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NLP Research Group 9

Akka had commanded the wild geese to start out--two and two--in different directions, to search for him. But after a two days' hunt, whether or not they had found him, they were to meet in northwestern Sm land on a high mountain-top, which resembled an abrupt, chopped-off tower, and was called Taberg. After Akka had given them the best directions, and described carefully how they should find Taberg, they had separated. The white goosey-gander had chosen Dunfin as travelling companion, and they had flown about hither and thither with the greatest anxiety for Thumbietot. During this ramble they had heard a thrush, who sat in a tree-top, cry and wail that someone, who called himself Kidnapped-by-Crows, had made fun of him. They had talked with the thrush, and he had shown them in which direction that Kidnapped-by-Crows had travelled. Afterward, they had met a dove-cock, a starling and a drake; they had all wailed about a little culprit who had disturbed their song, and who was named Caught-by-Crows, Captured-by-Crows, and Stolen-by-Crows. In this way, they were enabled to trace Thumbietot all the way to the heather-heath in Sonnerbo township. As soon as the goosey-gander and Dunfin had found Thumbietot, they had started toward the north, in order to reach Taberg. But it had been a long road to travel, and the darkness was upon them before they had sighted the mountain top. "If we only get there by to-morrow, surely all our troubles will be over," thought the boy, and dug down into the straw to have it warmer. All the while the cow fussed and fumed in the stall. Then, all of a sudden, she began to talk to the boy. "Everything is wrong with me," said the cow. "I am neither milked nor tended. I have no night fodder in my manger, and no bed has been made under me. My mistress came here at dusk, to put things in order for me, but she felt so ill, that she had to go in soon again, and she has not returned." "It's distressing that I should be little and powerless," said the boy. "I don't believe that I am able to help you." "You can't make me believe that you are powerless because you are little," said the cow. "All the elves that I've ever heard of, were so strong that they could pull a whole load of hay and strike a cow dead with one fist." The boy couldn't help laughing at the cow. "They were a very different kind of elf from me," said he. "But I'll loosen your halter and open the door for you, so that you can go out and drink in one of the pools on the place, and then I'll try to climb up to the hayloft and throw down some hay in your manger." "Yes, that would be some help," said the cow. The boy did as he had said; and when the cow stood with a full manger in front of her, he thought that at last he should get some sleep. But he had hardly crept down in the bed before she began, anew, to talk to him. "You'll be clean put out with me if I ask you for one thing more," said the cow. "Oh, no I won't, if it's only something that I'm able to do," said the boy. "Then I will ask you to go into the cabin, directly opposite, and find out how my mistress is getting along. I fear some misfortune has come to her." "No! I can't do that," said the boy. "I dare not show myself before human beings." "'Surely you're not afraid of an old and sick woman," said the cow. "But you do not need to go into the cabin. Just stand outside the door and peep in through the crack!" "Oh! if that is all you ask of me, I'll do it of course," said the boy. With that he opened the cowshed door and went out in the yard. It was a fearful night! Neither moon nor stars shone; the wind blew a gale, and the rain came down in torrents. And the worst of all was that seven great owls sat in a row on the eaves of the cabin. It was awful just to hear them, where they sat and grumbled at the weather; but it was even worse to think what would happen to him if one of them should set eyes on him. That would be the last of him. "Pity him who is little!" said the boy as he ventured out in the yard. And he had a right to say this, for he was blown down twice before he got to the house: once the wind swept him into a pool, which was so deep that he came near drowning. But he got there nevertheless. He clambered up a pair of steps, scrambled over a threshold, and came into the hallway. The cabin door was closed, but down in one corner a large piece had been cut away, that the cat might go in and out. It was no difficulty whatever for the boy to see how things were in the cabin. He had hardly cast a glance in there before he staggered back and turned his head away. An old, gray-haired woman lay stretched out on the floor within. She neither moved nor moaned; and her face shone strangely white. It was as if an invisible moon had thrown a feeble light over it. The boy remembered that when his grandfather had died, his face had also become so strangely white-like. And he understood that the old woman who lay on the cabin floor must be dead. Death had probably come to her so suddenly that she didn't even have time to lie down on her bed. As he thought of being alone with the dead in the middle of the dark night, he was terribly afraid. He threw himself headlong down the steps, and rushed back to the cowshed. When he told the cow what he had seen in the cabin, she stopped eating. "So my mistress is dead," said she. "Then it will soon be over for me as well." "There will always be someone to look out for you," said the boy comfortingly. "Ah! you don't know," said the cow, "that I am already twice as old as a cow usually is before she is laid upon the slaughter-bench. But then I do not care to live any longer, since she, in there, can come no more to care for me." She said nothing more for a while, but the boy observed, no doubt, that she neither slept nor ate. It was not long before she began to speak again. "Is she lying on the bare floor?" she asked. "She is," said the boy. "She had a habit of coming out to the cowshed," she continued, "and talking about everything that troubled her. I understood what she said, although I could not answer her. These last few days she talked of how afraid she was lest there would be no one with her when she died. She was anxious for fear no one should close her eyes and fold her hands across her breast, after she was dead. Perhaps you'll go in and do this?" The boy hesitated. He remembered that when his grandfather had died, mother had been very careful about putting everything to rights. He knew this was something which had to be done. But, on the other hand, he felt that he didn't care go to the dead, in the ghastly night. He didn't say no; neither did he take a step toward the cowshed door. For a couple of seconds the old cow was silent--just as if she had expected an answer. But when the boy said nothing, she did not repeat her request. Instead, she began to talk with him of her mistress. There was much to tell, first and foremost, about all the children which she had brought up. They had been in the cowshed every day, and in the summer they had taken the cattle to pasture on the swamp and in the groves, so the old cow knew all about them. They had been splendid, all of them, and happy and industrious. A cow knew well enough what her caretakers were good for. There was also much to be said about the farm. It had not always been as poor as it was now. It was very large--although the greater part of it consisted of swamps and stony groves. There was not much room for fields, but there was plenty of good fodder everywhere. At one time there had been a cow for every stall in the cowshed; and the oxshed, which was now empty, had at one time been filled with oxen. And then there was life and gayety, both in cabin and cowhouse. When the mistress opened the cowshed door she would hum and sing, and all the cows lowed with gladness when they heard her coming. But the good man had died when the children were so small that they could not be of any assistance, and the mistress had to take charge of the farm, and all the work and responsibility. She had been as strong as a man, and had both ploughed and reaped. In the evenings, when she came into the cowshed to milk, sometimes she was so tired that she wept. Then she dashed away her tears, and was cheerful again. "It doesn't matter. Good times are coming again for me too, if only my children grow up. Yes, if they only grow up." But as soon as the children were grown, a strange longing came over them. They didn't want to stay at home, but went away to a strange country. Their mother never got any help from them. A couple of her children were married before they went away, and they had left their children behind, in the old home. And now these children followed the mistress in the cowshed, just as her own had done. They tended the cows, and were fine, good folk. And, in the evenings, when the mistress was so tired out that she could fall asleep in the middle of the milking, she would rouse herself again to renewed courage by thinking of them. "Good times are coming for me, too," said she--and shook off sleep--"when once they are grown." But when these children grew up, they went away to their parents in the strange land. No one came back--no one stayed at home--the old mistress was left alone on the farm. Probably she had never asked them to remain with her. "Think you, R dlinna, that I would ask them to stay here with me, when they can go out in the world and have things comfortable?" she would say as she stood in the stall with the old cow. "Here in Sm land they have only poverty to look forward to." But when the last grandchild was gone, it was all up with the mistress. All at once she became bent and gray, and tottered as she walked; as if she no longer had the strength to move about. She stopped working. She did not care to look after the farm, but let everything go to rack and ruin. She didn't repair the houses; and she sold both the cows and the oxen. The only one that she kept was the old cow who now talked with Thumbietot. Her she let live because all the children had tended her. She could have taken maids and farm-hands into her service, who would have helped her with the work, but she couldn't bear to see strangers around her, since her own had deserted her. Perhaps she was better satisfied to let the farm go to ruin, since none of her children were coming back to take it after she was gone. She did not mind that she herself became poor, because she didn't value that which was only hers. But she was troubled lest the children should find out how hard she had it. "If only the children do not hear of this! If only the children do not hear of this!" she sighed as she tottered through the cowhouse. The children wrote constantly, and begged her to come out to them; but this she did not wish. She didn't want to see the land that had taken them from her. She was angry with it. "It's foolish of me, perhaps, that I do not like that land which has been so good for them," said she. "But I don't want to see it." She never thought of anything but the children, and of this--that they must needs have gone. When summer came, she led the cow out to graze in the big swamp. All day she would sit on the edge of the swamp, her hands in her lap; and on the way home she would say: "You see, R dlinna, if there had been large, rich fields here, in place of these barren swamps, then there would have been no need for them to leave." She could become furious with the swamp which spread out so big, and did no good. She could sit and talk about how it was the swamp's fault that the children had left her. This last evening she had been more trembly and feeble than ever before. She could not even do the milking. She had leaned against the manger and talked about two strangers who had been to see her, and had asked if they might buy the swamp. They wanted to drain it, and sow and raise grain on it. This had made her both anxious and glad. "Do you hear, R dlinna," she had said, "do you hear they said that grain can grow on the swamp? Now I shall write to the children to come home. Now they'll not have to stay away any longer; for now they can get their bread here at home." It was this that she had gone into the cabin to do-- The boy heard no more of what the old cow said. He had opened the cowhouse door and gone across the yard, and in to the dead whom he had but lately been so afraid of. It was not so poor in the cabin as he had expected. It was well supplied with the sort of things one generally finds among those who have relatives in America. In a corner there was an American rocking chair; on the table before the window lay a brocaded plush cover; there was a pretty spread on the bed; on the walls, in carved-wood frames, hung the photographs of the children and grandchildren who had gone away; on the bureau stood high vases and a couple of candlesticks, with thick, spiral candles in them. The boy searched for a matchbox and lighted these candles, not because he needed more light than he already had; but because he thought that this was one way to honour the dead. Then he went up to her, closed her eyes, folded her hands across her breast, and stroked back the thin gray hair from her face. He thought no more about being afraid of her. He was so deeply grieved because she had been forced to live out her old age in loneliness and longing. He, at least, would watch over her dead body this night. He hunted up the psalm book, and seated himself to read a couple of psalms in an undertone. But in the middle of the reading he paused--because he had begun to think about his mother and father. Think, that parents can long so for their children! This he had never known. Think, that life can be as though it was over for them when the children are away! Think, if those at home longed for him in the same way that this old peasant woman had longed! This thought made him happy, but he dared not believe in it. He had not been such a one that anybody could long for him. But what he had not been, perhaps he could become. Round about him he saw the portraits of those who were away. They were big, strong men and women with earnest faces. There were brides in long veils, and gentlemen in fine clothes; and there were children with waved hair and pretty white dresses. And he thought that they all stared blindly into vacancy--and did not want to see. "Poor you!" said the boy to the portraits. "Your mother is dead. You cannot make reparation now, because you went away from her. But my mother is living!" Here he paused, and nodded and smiled to himself. "My mother is living," said he. "Both father and mother are living." FROM TABERG TO HUSKVARNA _Friday, April fifteenth_. The boy sat awake nearly all night, but toward morning he fell asleep and then he dreamed of his father and mother. He could hardly recognise them. They had both grown gray, and had old and wrinkled faces. He asked how this had come about, and they answered that they had aged so because they had longed for him. He was both touched and astonished, for he had never believed but what they were glad to be rid of him. When the boy awoke the morning was come, with fine, clear weather. First, he himself ate a bit of bread which he found in the cabin; then he gave morning feed to both geese and cow, and opened the cowhouse door so that the cow could go over to the nearest farm. When the cow came along all by herself the neighbours would no doubt understand that something was wrong with her mistress. They would hurry over to the desolate farm to see how the old woman was getting along, and then they would find her dead body and bury it. The boy and the geese had barely raised themselves into the air, when they caught a glimpse of a high mountain, with almost perpendicular walls, and an abrupt, broken-off top; and they understood that this must be Taberg. On the summit stood Akka, with Yksi and Kaksi, Kolmi and Nelj , Viisi and Knusi, and all six goslings and waited for them. There was a rejoicing, and a cackling, and a fluttering, and a calling which no one can describe, when they saw that the goosey-gander and Dunfin had succeeded in finding Thumbietot. The woods grew pretty high up on Taberg's sides, but her highest peak was barren; and from there one could look out in all directions. If one gazed toward the east, or south, or west, then there was hardly anything to be seen but a poor highland with dark spruce-trees, brown morasses, ice-clad lakes, and bluish mountain-ridges. The boy couldn't keep from thinking it was true that the one who had created this hadn't taken very great pains with his work, but had thrown it together in a hurry. But if one glanced to the north, it was altogether different. Here it looked as if it had been worked out with the utmost care and affection. In this direction one saw only beautiful mountains, soft valleys, and winding rivers, all the way to the big Lake Vettern, which lay ice-free and transparently clear, and shone as if it wasn't filled with water but with blue light. It was Vettern that made it so pretty to look toward the north, because it looked as though a blue stream had risen up from the lake, and spread itself over land also. Groves and hills and roofs, and the spires of J nk ping City--which shimmered along Vettern's shores--lay enveloped in pale blue which caressed the eye. If there were countries in heaven, they, too, must be blue like this, thought the boy, and imagined that he had gotten a faint idea of how it must look in Paradise. Later in the day, when the geese continued their journey, they flew up toward the blue valley. They were in holiday humour; shrieked and made such a racket that no one who had ears could help hearing them. This happened to be the first really fine spring day they had had in this section. Until now, the spring had done its work under rain and bluster; and now, when it had all of a sudden become fine weather, the people were filled with such a longing after summer warmth and green woods that they could hardly perform their tasks. And when the wild geese rode by, high above the ground, cheerful and free, there wasn't one who did not drop what he had in hand, and glance at them. The first ones who saw the wild geese that day were miners on Taberg, who were digging ore at the mouth of the mine. When they heard them cackle, they paused in their drilling for ore, and one of them called to the birds: "Where are you going? Where are you going?" The geese didn't understand what he said, but the boy leaned forward over the goose-back, and answered for them: "Where there is neither pick nor hammer." When the miners heard the words, they thought it was their own longing that made the goose-cackle sound like human speech. "Take us along with you! Take us along with you!" they cried. "Not this year," shrieked the boy. "Not this year." The wild geese followed Taberg River down toward Monk Lake, and all the while they made the same racket. Here, on the narrow land-strip between Monk and Vettern lakes, lay J nk ping with its great factories. The wild geese rode first over Monksj paper mills. The noon rest hour was just over, and the big workmen were streaming down to the mill-gate. When they heard the wild geese, they stopped a moment to listen to them. "Where are you going? Where are you going?" called the workmen. The wild geese understood nothing of what they said, but the boy answered for them: "There, where there are neither machines nor steam-boxes." When the workmen heard the answer, they believed it was their own longing that made the goose-cackle sound like human speech. "Take us along with you!" "Not this year," answered the boy. "Not this year." Next, the geese rode over the well-known match factory, which lies on the shores of Vettern--large as a fortress--and lifts its high chimneys toward the sky. Not a soul moved out in the yards; but in a large hall young working-women sat and filled match-boxes. They had opened a window on account of the beautiful weather, and through it came the wild geese's call. The one who sat nearest the window, leaned out with a match-box in her hand, and cried: "Where are you going? Where are you going?" "To that land where there is no need of either light or matches," said the boy. The girl thought that what she had heard was only goose-cackle; but since she thought she had distinguished a couple of words, she called out in answer: "Take me along with you!" "Not this year," replied the boy. "Not this year." East of the factories rises J nk ping, on the most glorious spot that any city can occupy. The narrow Vettern has high, steep sand-shores, both on the eastern and western sides; but straight south, the sand-walls are broken down, just as if to make room for a large gate, through which one reaches the lake. And in the middle of the gate--with mountains to the left, and mountains to the right, with Monk Lake behind it, and Vettern in front of it--lies J nk ping. The wild geese travelled forward over the long, narrow city, and behaved themselves here just as they had done in the country. But in the city there was no one who answered them. It was not to be expected that city folks should stop out in the streets, and call to the wild geese. The trip extended further along Vettern's shores; and after a little they came to Sanna Sanitarium. Some of the patients had gone out on the veranda to enjoy the spring air, and in this way they heard the goose-cackle. "Where are you going?" asked one of them with such a feeble voice that he was scarcely heard. "To that land where there is neither sorrow nor sickness," answered the boy. "Take us along with you!" said the sick ones. "Not this year," answered the boy. "Not this year." When they had travelled still farther on, they came to Huskvarna. It lay in a valley. The mountains around it were steep and beautifully formed. A river rushed along the heights in long and narrow falls. Big workshops and factories lay below the mountain walls; and scattered over the valley-bottom were the workingmens' homes, encircled by little gardens; and in the centre of the valley lay the schoolhouse. Just as the wild geese came along, a bell rang, and a crowd of school children marched out in line. They were so numerous that the whole schoolyard was filled with them. "Where are you going? Where are you going?" the children shouted when they heard the wild geese. "Where there are neither books nor lessons to be found," answered the boy. "Take us along!" shrieked the children. "Not this year, but next," cried the boy. "Not this year, but next." THE BIG BIRD LAKE JARRO, THE WILD DUCK On the eastern shore of Vettern lies Mount Omberg; east of Omberg lies Dagmosse; east of Dagmosse lies Lake Takern. Around the whole of Takern spreads the big, even sterg ta plain. Takern is a pretty large lake and in olden times it must have been still larger. But then the people thought it covered entirely too much of the fertile plain, so they attempted to drain the water from it, that they might sow and reap on the lake-bottom. But they did not succeed in laying waste the entire lake--which had evidently been their intention--therefore it still hides a lot of land. Since the draining the lake has become so shallow that hardly at any point is it more than a couple of metres deep. The shores have become marshy and muddy; and out in the lake, little mud-islets stick up above the water's surface. Now, there is one who loves to stand with his feet in the water, if he can just keep his body and head in the air, and that is the reed. And it cannot find a better place to grow upon, than the long, shallow Takern shores, and around the little mud-islets. It thrives so well that it grows taller than a man's height, and so thick that it is almost impossible to push a boat through it. It forms a broad green enclosure around the whole lake, so that it is only accessible in a few places where the people have taken away the reeds. But if the reeds shut the people out, they give, in return, shelter and protection to many other things. In the reeds there are a lot of little dams and canals with green, still water, where duckweed and pondweed run to seed; and where gnat-eggs and blackfish and worms are hatched out in uncountable masses. And all along the shores of these little dams and canals, there are many well-concealed places, where seabirds hatch their eggs, and bring up their young without being disturbed, either by enemies or food worries. An incredible number of birds live in the Takern reeds; and more and more gather there every year, as it becomes known what a splendid abode it is. The first who settled there were the wild ducks; and they still live there by thousands. But they no longer own the entire lake, for they have been obliged to share it with swans, grebes, coots, loons, fen-ducks, and a lot of others. Takern is certainly the largest and choicest bird lake in the whole country; and the birds may count themselves lucky as long as they own such a retreat. But it is uncertain just how long they will be in control of reeds and mud-banks, for human beings cannot forget that the lake extends over a considerable portion of good and fertile soil; and every now and then the proposition to drain it comes up among them. And if these propositions were carried out, the many thousands of water-birds would be forced to move from this quarter. At the time when Nils Holgersson travelled around with the wild geese, there lived at Takern a wild duck named Jarro. He was a young bird, who had only lived one summer, one fall, and a winter; now, it was his first spring. He had just returned from South Africa, and had reached Takern in such good season that the ice was still on the lake. One evening, when he and the other young wild ducks played at racing backward and forward over the lake, a hunter fired a couple of shots at them, and Jarro was wounded in the breast. He thought he should die; but in order that the one who had shot him shouldn't get him into his power, he continued to fly as long as he possibly could. He didn't think whither he was directing his course, but only struggled to get far away. When his strength failed him, so that he could not fly any farther, he was no longer on the lake. He had flown a bit inland, and now he sank down before the entrance to one of the big farms which lie along the shores of Takern. A moment later a young farm-hand happened along. He saw Jarro,

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How many times the word 'gone' appears in the text?

Akka had commanded the wild geese to start out--two and two--in different directions, to search for him. But after a two days' hunt, whether or not they had found him, they were to meet in northwestern Sm land on a high mountain-top, which resembled an abrupt, chopped-off tower, and was called Taberg. After Akka had given them the best directions, and described carefully how they should find Taberg, they had separated. The white goosey-gander had chosen Dunfin as travelling companion, and they had flown about hither and thither with the greatest anxiety for Thumbietot. During this ramble they had heard a thrush, who sat in a tree-top, cry and wail that someone, who called himself Kidnapped-by-Crows, had made fun of him. They had talked with the thrush, and he had shown them in which direction that Kidnapped-by-Crows had travelled. Afterward, they had met a dove-cock, a starling and a drake; they had all wailed about a little culprit who had disturbed their song, and who was named Caught-by-Crows, Captured-by-Crows, and Stolen-by-Crows. In this way, they were enabled to trace Thumbietot all the way to the heather-heath in Sonnerbo township. As soon as the goosey-gander and Dunfin had found Thumbietot, they had started toward the north, in order to reach Taberg. But it had been a long road to travel, and the darkness was upon them before they had sighted the mountain top. "If we only get there by to-morrow, surely all our troubles will be over," thought the boy, and dug down into the straw to have it warmer. All the while the cow fussed and fumed in the stall. Then, all of a sudden, she began to talk to the boy. "Everything is wrong with me," said the cow. "I am neither milked nor tended. I have no night fodder in my manger, and no bed has been made under me. My mistress came here at dusk, to put things in order for me, but she felt so ill, that she had to go in soon again, and she has not returned." "It's distressing that I should be little and powerless," said the boy. "I don't believe that I am able to help you." "You can't make me believe that you are powerless because you are little," said the cow. "All the elves that I've ever heard of, were so strong that they could pull a whole load of hay and strike a cow dead with one fist." The boy couldn't help laughing at the cow. "They were a very different kind of elf from me," said he. "But I'll loosen your halter and open the door for you, so that you can go out and drink in one of the pools on the place, and then I'll try to climb up to the hayloft and throw down some hay in your manger." "Yes, that would be some help," said the cow. The boy did as he had said; and when the cow stood with a full manger in front of her, he thought that at last he should get some sleep. But he had hardly crept down in the bed before she began, anew, to talk to him. "You'll be clean put out with me if I ask you for one thing more," said the cow. "Oh, no I won't, if it's only something that I'm able to do," said the boy. "Then I will ask you to go into the cabin, directly opposite, and find out how my mistress is getting along. I fear some misfortune has come to her." "No! I can't do that," said the boy. "I dare not show myself before human beings." "'Surely you're not afraid of an old and sick woman," said the cow. "But you do not need to go into the cabin. Just stand outside the door and peep in through the crack!" "Oh! if that is all you ask of me, I'll do it of course," said the boy. With that he opened the cowshed door and went out in the yard. It was a fearful night! Neither moon nor stars shone; the wind blew a gale, and the rain came down in torrents. And the worst of all was that seven great owls sat in a row on the eaves of the cabin. It was awful just to hear them, where they sat and grumbled at the weather; but it was even worse to think what would happen to him if one of them should set eyes on him. That would be the last of him. "Pity him who is little!" said the boy as he ventured out in the yard. And he had a right to say this, for he was blown down twice before he got to the house: once the wind swept him into a pool, which was so deep that he came near drowning. But he got there nevertheless. He clambered up a pair of steps, scrambled over a threshold, and came into the hallway. The cabin door was closed, but down in one corner a large piece had been cut away, that the cat might go in and out. It was no difficulty whatever for the boy to see how things were in the cabin. He had hardly cast a glance in there before he staggered back and turned his head away. An old, gray-haired woman lay stretched out on the floor within. She neither moved nor moaned; and her face shone strangely white. It was as if an invisible moon had thrown a feeble light over it. The boy remembered that when his grandfather had died, his face had also become so strangely white-like. And he understood that the old woman who lay on the cabin floor must be dead. Death had probably come to her so suddenly that she didn't even have time to lie down on her bed. As he thought of being alone with the dead in the middle of the dark night, he was terribly afraid. He threw himself headlong down the steps, and rushed back to the cowshed. When he told the cow what he had seen in the cabin, she stopped eating. "So my mistress is dead," said she. "Then it will soon be over for me as well." "There will always be someone to look out for you," said the boy comfortingly. "Ah! you don't know," said the cow, "that I am already twice as old as a cow usually is before she is laid upon the slaughter-bench. But then I do not care to live any longer, since she, in there, can come no more to care for me." She said nothing more for a while, but the boy observed, no doubt, that she neither slept nor ate. It was not long before she began to speak again. "Is she lying on the bare floor?" she asked. "She is," said the boy. "She had a habit of coming out to the cowshed," she continued, "and talking about everything that troubled her. I understood what she said, although I could not answer her. These last few days she talked of how afraid she was lest there would be no one with her when she died. She was anxious for fear no one should close her eyes and fold her hands across her breast, after she was dead. Perhaps you'll go in and do this?" The boy hesitated. He remembered that when his grandfather had died, mother had been very careful about putting everything to rights. He knew this was something which had to be done. But, on the other hand, he felt that he didn't care go to the dead, in the ghastly night. He didn't say no; neither did he take a step toward the cowshed door. For a couple of seconds the old cow was silent--just as if she had expected an answer. But when the boy said nothing, she did not repeat her request. Instead, she began to talk with him of her mistress. There was much to tell, first and foremost, about all the children which she had brought up. They had been in the cowshed every day, and in the summer they had taken the cattle to pasture on the swamp and in the groves, so the old cow knew all about them. They had been splendid, all of them, and happy and industrious. A cow knew well enough what her caretakers were good for. There was also much to be said about the farm. It had not always been as poor as it was now. It was very large--although the greater part of it consisted of swamps and stony groves. There was not much room for fields, but there was plenty of good fodder everywhere. At one time there had been a cow for every stall in the cowshed; and the oxshed, which was now empty, had at one time been filled with oxen. And then there was life and gayety, both in cabin and cowhouse. When the mistress opened the cowshed door she would hum and sing, and all the cows lowed with gladness when they heard her coming. But the good man had died when the children were so small that they could not be of any assistance, and the mistress had to take charge of the farm, and all the work and responsibility. She had been as strong as a man, and had both ploughed and reaped. In the evenings, when she came into the cowshed to milk, sometimes she was so tired that she wept. Then she dashed away her tears, and was cheerful again. "It doesn't matter. Good times are coming again for me too, if only my children grow up. Yes, if they only grow up." But as soon as the children were grown, a strange longing came over them. They didn't want to stay at home, but went away to a strange country. Their mother never got any help from them. A couple of her children were married before they went away, and they had left their children behind, in the old home. And now these children followed the mistress in the cowshed, just as her own had done. They tended the cows, and were fine, good folk. And, in the evenings, when the mistress was so tired out that she could fall asleep in the middle of the milking, she would rouse herself again to renewed courage by thinking of them. "Good times are coming for me, too," said she--and shook off sleep--"when once they are grown." But when these children grew up, they went away to their parents in the strange land. No one came back--no one stayed at home--the old mistress was left alone on the farm. Probably she had never asked them to remain with her. "Think you, R dlinna, that I would ask them to stay here with me, when they can go out in the world and have things comfortable?" she would say as she stood in the stall with the old cow. "Here in Sm land they have only poverty to look forward to." But when the last grandchild was gone, it was all up with the mistress. All at once she became bent and gray, and tottered as she walked; as if she no longer had the strength to move about. She stopped working. She did not care to look after the farm, but let everything go to rack and ruin. She didn't repair the houses; and she sold both the cows and the oxen. The only one that she kept was the old cow who now talked with Thumbietot. Her she let live because all the children had tended her. She could have taken maids and farm-hands into her service, who would have helped her with the work, but she couldn't bear to see strangers around her, since her own had deserted her. Perhaps she was better satisfied to let the farm go to ruin, since none of her children were coming back to take it after she was gone. She did not mind that she herself became poor, because she didn't value that which was only hers. But she was troubled lest the children should find out how hard she had it. "If only the children do not hear of this! If only the children do not hear of this!" she sighed as she tottered through the cowhouse. The children wrote constantly, and begged her to come out to them; but this she did not wish. She didn't want to see the land that had taken them from her. She was angry with it. "It's foolish of me, perhaps, that I do not like that land which has been so good for them," said she. "But I don't want to see it." She never thought of anything but the children, and of this--that they must needs have gone. When summer came, she led the cow out to graze in the big swamp. All day she would sit on the edge of the swamp, her hands in her lap; and on the way home she would say: "You see, R dlinna, if there had been large, rich fields here, in place of these barren swamps, then there would have been no need for them to leave." She could become furious with the swamp which spread out so big, and did no good. She could sit and talk about how it was the swamp's fault that the children had left her. This last evening she had been more trembly and feeble than ever before. She could not even do the milking. She had leaned against the manger and talked about two strangers who had been to see her, and had asked if they might buy the swamp. They wanted to drain it, and sow and raise grain on it. This had made her both anxious and glad. "Do you hear, R dlinna," she had said, "do you hear they said that grain can grow on the swamp? Now I shall write to the children to come home. Now they'll not have to stay away any longer; for now they can get their bread here at home." It was this that she had gone into the cabin to do-- The boy heard no more of what the old cow said. He had opened the cowhouse door and gone across the yard, and in to the dead whom he had but lately been so afraid of. It was not so poor in the cabin as he had expected. It was well supplied with the sort of things one generally finds among those who have relatives in America. In a corner there was an American rocking chair; on the table before the window lay a brocaded plush cover; there was a pretty spread on the bed; on the walls, in carved-wood frames, hung the photographs of the children and grandchildren who had gone away; on the bureau stood high vases and a couple of candlesticks, with thick, spiral candles in them. The boy searched for a matchbox and lighted these candles, not because he needed more light than he already had; but because he thought that this was one way to honour the dead. Then he went up to her, closed her eyes, folded her hands across her breast, and stroked back the thin gray hair from her face. He thought no more about being afraid of her. He was so deeply grieved because she had been forced to live out her old age in loneliness and longing. He, at least, would watch over her dead body this night. He hunted up the psalm book, and seated himself to read a couple of psalms in an undertone. But in the middle of the reading he paused--because he had begun to think about his mother and father. Think, that parents can long so for their children! This he had never known. Think, that life can be as though it was over for them when the children are away! Think, if those at home longed for him in the same way that this old peasant woman had longed! This thought made him happy, but he dared not believe in it. He had not been such a one that anybody could long for him. But what he had not been, perhaps he could become. Round about him he saw the portraits of those who were away. They were big, strong men and women with earnest faces. There were brides in long veils, and gentlemen in fine clothes; and there were children with waved hair and pretty white dresses. And he thought that they all stared blindly into vacancy--and did not want to see. "Poor you!" said the boy to the portraits. "Your mother is dead. You cannot make reparation now, because you went away from her. But my mother is living!" Here he paused, and nodded and smiled to himself. "My mother is living," said he. "Both father and mother are living." FROM TABERG TO HUSKVARNA _Friday, April fifteenth_. The boy sat awake nearly all night, but toward morning he fell asleep and then he dreamed of his father and mother. He could hardly recognise them. They had both grown gray, and had old and wrinkled faces. He asked how this had come about, and they answered that they had aged so because they had longed for him. He was both touched and astonished, for he had never believed but what they were glad to be rid of him. When the boy awoke the morning was come, with fine, clear weather. First, he himself ate a bit of bread which he found in the cabin; then he gave morning feed to both geese and cow, and opened the cowhouse door so that the cow could go over to the nearest farm. When the cow came along all by herself the neighbours would no doubt understand that something was wrong with her mistress. They would hurry over to the desolate farm to see how the old woman was getting along, and then they would find her dead body and bury it. The boy and the geese had barely raised themselves into the air, when they caught a glimpse of a high mountain, with almost perpendicular walls, and an abrupt, broken-off top; and they understood that this must be Taberg. On the summit stood Akka, with Yksi and Kaksi, Kolmi and Nelj , Viisi and Knusi, and all six goslings and waited for them. There was a rejoicing, and a cackling, and a fluttering, and a calling which no one can describe, when they saw that the goosey-gander and Dunfin had succeeded in finding Thumbietot. The woods grew pretty high up on Taberg's sides, but her highest peak was barren; and from there one could look out in all directions. If one gazed toward the east, or south, or west, then there was hardly anything to be seen but a poor highland with dark spruce-trees, brown morasses, ice-clad lakes, and bluish mountain-ridges. The boy couldn't keep from thinking it was true that the one who had created this hadn't taken very great pains with his work, but had thrown it together in a hurry. But if one glanced to the north, it was altogether different. Here it looked as if it had been worked out with the utmost care and affection. In this direction one saw only beautiful mountains, soft valleys, and winding rivers, all the way to the big Lake Vettern, which lay ice-free and transparently clear, and shone as if it wasn't filled with water but with blue light. It was Vettern that made it so pretty to look toward the north, because it looked as though a blue stream had risen up from the lake, and spread itself over land also. Groves and hills and roofs, and the spires of J nk ping City--which shimmered along Vettern's shores--lay enveloped in pale blue which caressed the eye. If there were countries in heaven, they, too, must be blue like this, thought the boy, and imagined that he had gotten a faint idea of how it must look in Paradise. Later in the day, when the geese continued their journey, they flew up toward the blue valley. They were in holiday humour; shrieked and made such a racket that no one who had ears could help hearing them. This happened to be the first really fine spring day they had had in this section. Until now, the spring had done its work under rain and bluster; and now, when it had all of a sudden become fine weather, the people were filled with such a longing after summer warmth and green woods that they could hardly perform their tasks. And when the wild geese rode by, high above the ground, cheerful and free, there wasn't one who did not drop what he had in hand, and glance at them. The first ones who saw the wild geese that day were miners on Taberg, who were digging ore at the mouth of the mine. When they heard them cackle, they paused in their drilling for ore, and one of them called to the birds: "Where are you going? Where are you going?" The geese didn't understand what he said, but the boy leaned forward over the goose-back, and answered for them: "Where there is neither pick nor hammer." When the miners heard the words, they thought it was their own longing that made the goose-cackle sound like human speech. "Take us along with you! Take us along with you!" they cried. "Not this year," shrieked the boy. "Not this year." The wild geese followed Taberg River down toward Monk Lake, and all the while they made the same racket. Here, on the narrow land-strip between Monk and Vettern lakes, lay J nk ping with its great factories. The wild geese rode first over Monksj paper mills. The noon rest hour was just over, and the big workmen were streaming down to the mill-gate. When they heard the wild geese, they stopped a moment to listen to them. "Where are you going? Where are you going?" called the workmen. The wild geese understood nothing of what they said, but the boy answered for them: "There, where there are neither machines nor steam-boxes." When the workmen heard the answer, they believed it was their own longing that made the goose-cackle sound like human speech. "Take us along with you!" "Not this year," answered the boy. "Not this year." Next, the geese rode over the well-known match factory, which lies on the shores of Vettern--large as a fortress--and lifts its high chimneys toward the sky. Not a soul moved out in the yards; but in a large hall young working-women sat and filled match-boxes. They had opened a window on account of the beautiful weather, and through it came the wild geese's call. The one who sat nearest the window, leaned out with a match-box in her hand, and cried: "Where are you going? Where are you going?" "To that land where there is no need of either light or matches," said the boy. The girl thought that what she had heard was only goose-cackle; but since she thought she had distinguished a couple of words, she called out in answer: "Take me along with you!" "Not this year," replied the boy. "Not this year." East of the factories rises J nk ping, on the most glorious spot that any city can occupy. The narrow Vettern has high, steep sand-shores, both on the eastern and western sides; but straight south, the sand-walls are broken down, just as if to make room for a large gate, through which one reaches the lake. And in the middle of the gate--with mountains to the left, and mountains to the right, with Monk Lake behind it, and Vettern in front of it--lies J nk ping. The wild geese travelled forward over the long, narrow city, and behaved themselves here just as they had done in the country. But in the city there was no one who answered them. It was not to be expected that city folks should stop out in the streets, and call to the wild geese. The trip extended further along Vettern's shores; and after a little they came to Sanna Sanitarium. Some of the patients had gone out on the veranda to enjoy the spring air, and in this way they heard the goose-cackle. "Where are you going?" asked one of them with such a feeble voice that he was scarcely heard. "To that land where there is neither sorrow nor sickness," answered the boy. "Take us along with you!" said the sick ones. "Not this year," answered the boy. "Not this year." When they had travelled still farther on, they came to Huskvarna. It lay in a valley. The mountains around it were steep and beautifully formed. A river rushed along the heights in long and narrow falls. Big workshops and factories lay below the mountain walls; and scattered over the valley-bottom were the workingmens' homes, encircled by little gardens; and in the centre of the valley lay the schoolhouse. Just as the wild geese came along, a bell rang, and a crowd of school children marched out in line. They were so numerous that the whole schoolyard was filled with them. "Where are you going? Where are you going?" the children shouted when they heard the wild geese. "Where there are neither books nor lessons to be found," answered the boy. "Take us along!" shrieked the children. "Not this year, but next," cried the boy. "Not this year, but next." THE BIG BIRD LAKE JARRO, THE WILD DUCK On the eastern shore of Vettern lies Mount Omberg; east of Omberg lies Dagmosse; east of Dagmosse lies Lake Takern. Around the whole of Takern spreads the big, even sterg ta plain. Takern is a pretty large lake and in olden times it must have been still larger. But then the people thought it covered entirely too much of the fertile plain, so they attempted to drain the water from it, that they might sow and reap on the lake-bottom. But they did not succeed in laying waste the entire lake--which had evidently been their intention--therefore it still hides a lot of land. Since the draining the lake has become so shallow that hardly at any point is it more than a couple of metres deep. The shores have become marshy and muddy; and out in the lake, little mud-islets stick up above the water's surface. Now, there is one who loves to stand with his feet in the water, if he can just keep his body and head in the air, and that is the reed. And it cannot find a better place to grow upon, than the long, shallow Takern shores, and around the little mud-islets. It thrives so well that it grows taller than a man's height, and so thick that it is almost impossible to push a boat through it. It forms a broad green enclosure around the whole lake, so that it is only accessible in a few places where the people have taken away the reeds. But if the reeds shut the people out, they give, in return, shelter and protection to many other things. In the reeds there are a lot of little dams and canals with green, still water, where duckweed and pondweed run to seed; and where gnat-eggs and blackfish and worms are hatched out in uncountable masses. And all along the shores of these little dams and canals, there are many well-concealed places, where seabirds hatch their eggs, and bring up their young without being disturbed, either by enemies or food worries. An incredible number of birds live in the Takern reeds; and more and more gather there every year, as it becomes known what a splendid abode it is. The first who settled there were the wild ducks; and they still live there by thousands. But they no longer own the entire lake, for they have been obliged to share it with swans, grebes, coots, loons, fen-ducks, and a lot of others. Takern is certainly the largest and choicest bird lake in the whole country; and the birds may count themselves lucky as long as they own such a retreat. But it is uncertain just how long they will be in control of reeds and mud-banks, for human beings cannot forget that the lake extends over a considerable portion of good and fertile soil; and every now and then the proposition to drain it comes up among them. And if these propositions were carried out, the many thousands of water-birds would be forced to move from this quarter. At the time when Nils Holgersson travelled around with the wild geese, there lived at Takern a wild duck named Jarro. He was a young bird, who had only lived one summer, one fall, and a winter; now, it was his first spring. He had just returned from South Africa, and had reached Takern in such good season that the ice was still on the lake. One evening, when he and the other young wild ducks played at racing backward and forward over the lake, a hunter fired a couple of shots at them, and Jarro was wounded in the breast. He thought he should die; but in order that the one who had shot him shouldn't get him into his power, he continued to fly as long as he possibly could. He didn't think whither he was directing his course, but only struggled to get far away. When his strength failed him, so that he could not fly any farther, he was no longer on the lake. He had flown a bit inland, and now he sank down before the entrance to one of the big farms which lie along the shores of Takern. A moment later a young farm-hand happened along. He saw Jarro,

never

How many times the word 'never' appears in the text?

Akka had commanded the wild geese to start out--two and two--in different directions, to search for him. But after a two days' hunt, whether or not they had found him, they were to meet in northwestern Sm land on a high mountain-top, which resembled an abrupt, chopped-off tower, and was called Taberg. After Akka had given them the best directions, and described carefully how they should find Taberg, they had separated. The white goosey-gander had chosen Dunfin as travelling companion, and they had flown about hither and thither with the greatest anxiety for Thumbietot. During this ramble they had heard a thrush, who sat in a tree-top, cry and wail that someone, who called himself Kidnapped-by-Crows, had made fun of him. They had talked with the thrush, and he had shown them in which direction that Kidnapped-by-Crows had travelled. Afterward, they had met a dove-cock, a starling and a drake; they had all wailed about a little culprit who had disturbed their song, and who was named Caught-by-Crows, Captured-by-Crows, and Stolen-by-Crows. In this way, they were enabled to trace Thumbietot all the way to the heather-heath in Sonnerbo township. As soon as the goosey-gander and Dunfin had found Thumbietot, they had started toward the north, in order to reach Taberg. But it had been a long road to travel, and the darkness was upon them before they had sighted the mountain top. "If we only get there by to-morrow, surely all our troubles will be over," thought the boy, and dug down into the straw to have it warmer. All the while the cow fussed and fumed in the stall. Then, all of a sudden, she began to talk to the boy. "Everything is wrong with me," said the cow. "I am neither milked nor tended. I have no night fodder in my manger, and no bed has been made under me. My mistress came here at dusk, to put things in order for me, but she felt so ill, that she had to go in soon again, and she has not returned." "It's distressing that I should be little and powerless," said the boy. "I don't believe that I am able to help you." "You can't make me believe that you are powerless because you are little," said the cow. "All the elves that I've ever heard of, were so strong that they could pull a whole load of hay and strike a cow dead with one fist." The boy couldn't help laughing at the cow. "They were a very different kind of elf from me," said he. "But I'll loosen your halter and open the door for you, so that you can go out and drink in one of the pools on the place, and then I'll try to climb up to the hayloft and throw down some hay in your manger." "Yes, that would be some help," said the cow. The boy did as he had said; and when the cow stood with a full manger in front of her, he thought that at last he should get some sleep. But he had hardly crept down in the bed before she began, anew, to talk to him. "You'll be clean put out with me if I ask you for one thing more," said the cow. "Oh, no I won't, if it's only something that I'm able to do," said the boy. "Then I will ask you to go into the cabin, directly opposite, and find out how my mistress is getting along. I fear some misfortune has come to her." "No! I can't do that," said the boy. "I dare not show myself before human beings." "'Surely you're not afraid of an old and sick woman," said the cow. "But you do not need to go into the cabin. Just stand outside the door and peep in through the crack!" "Oh! if that is all you ask of me, I'll do it of course," said the boy. With that he opened the cowshed door and went out in the yard. It was a fearful night! Neither moon nor stars shone; the wind blew a gale, and the rain came down in torrents. And the worst of all was that seven great owls sat in a row on the eaves of the cabin. It was awful just to hear them, where they sat and grumbled at the weather; but it was even worse to think what would happen to him if one of them should set eyes on him. That would be the last of him. "Pity him who is little!" said the boy as he ventured out in the yard. And he had a right to say this, for he was blown down twice before he got to the house: once the wind swept him into a pool, which was so deep that he came near drowning. But he got there nevertheless. He clambered up a pair of steps, scrambled over a threshold, and came into the hallway. The cabin door was closed, but down in one corner a large piece had been cut away, that the cat might go in and out. It was no difficulty whatever for the boy to see how things were in the cabin. He had hardly cast a glance in there before he staggered back and turned his head away. An old, gray-haired woman lay stretched out on the floor within. She neither moved nor moaned; and her face shone strangely white. It was as if an invisible moon had thrown a feeble light over it. The boy remembered that when his grandfather had died, his face had also become so strangely white-like. And he understood that the old woman who lay on the cabin floor must be dead. Death had probably come to her so suddenly that she didn't even have time to lie down on her bed. As he thought of being alone with the dead in the middle of the dark night, he was terribly afraid. He threw himself headlong down the steps, and rushed back to the cowshed. When he told the cow what he had seen in the cabin, she stopped eating. "So my mistress is dead," said she. "Then it will soon be over for me as well." "There will always be someone to look out for you," said the boy comfortingly. "Ah! you don't know," said the cow, "that I am already twice as old as a cow usually is before she is laid upon the slaughter-bench. But then I do not care to live any longer, since she, in there, can come no more to care for me." She said nothing more for a while, but the boy observed, no doubt, that she neither slept nor ate. It was not long before she began to speak again. "Is she lying on the bare floor?" she asked. "She is," said the boy. "She had a habit of coming out to the cowshed," she continued, "and talking about everything that troubled her. I understood what she said, although I could not answer her. These last few days she talked of how afraid she was lest there would be no one with her when she died. She was anxious for fear no one should close her eyes and fold her hands across her breast, after she was dead. Perhaps you'll go in and do this?" The boy hesitated. He remembered that when his grandfather had died, mother had been very careful about putting everything to rights. He knew this was something which had to be done. But, on the other hand, he felt that he didn't care go to the dead, in the ghastly night. He didn't say no; neither did he take a step toward the cowshed door. For a couple of seconds the old cow was silent--just as if she had expected an answer. But when the boy said nothing, she did not repeat her request. Instead, she began to talk with him of her mistress. There was much to tell, first and foremost, about all the children which she had brought up. They had been in the cowshed every day, and in the summer they had taken the cattle to pasture on the swamp and in the groves, so the old cow knew all about them. They had been splendid, all of them, and happy and industrious. A cow knew well enough what her caretakers were good for. There was also much to be said about the farm. It had not always been as poor as it was now. It was very large--although the greater part of it consisted of swamps and stony groves. There was not much room for fields, but there was plenty of good fodder everywhere. At one time there had been a cow for every stall in the cowshed; and the oxshed, which was now empty, had at one time been filled with oxen. And then there was life and gayety, both in cabin and cowhouse. When the mistress opened the cowshed door she would hum and sing, and all the cows lowed with gladness when they heard her coming. But the good man had died when the children were so small that they could not be of any assistance, and the mistress had to take charge of the farm, and all the work and responsibility. She had been as strong as a man, and had both ploughed and reaped. In the evenings, when she came into the cowshed to milk, sometimes she was so tired that she wept. Then she dashed away her tears, and was cheerful again. "It doesn't matter. Good times are coming again for me too, if only my children grow up. Yes, if they only grow up." But as soon as the children were grown, a strange longing came over them. They didn't want to stay at home, but went away to a strange country. Their mother never got any help from them. A couple of her children were married before they went away, and they had left their children behind, in the old home. And now these children followed the mistress in the cowshed, just as her own had done. They tended the cows, and were fine, good folk. And, in the evenings, when the mistress was so tired out that she could fall asleep in the middle of the milking, she would rouse herself again to renewed courage by thinking of them. "Good times are coming for me, too," said she--and shook off sleep--"when once they are grown." But when these children grew up, they went away to their parents in the strange land. No one came back--no one stayed at home--the old mistress was left alone on the farm. Probably she had never asked them to remain with her. "Think you, R dlinna, that I would ask them to stay here with me, when they can go out in the world and have things comfortable?" she would say as she stood in the stall with the old cow. "Here in Sm land they have only poverty to look forward to." But when the last grandchild was gone, it was all up with the mistress. All at once she became bent and gray, and tottered as she walked; as if she no longer had the strength to move about. She stopped working. She did not care to look after the farm, but let everything go to rack and ruin. She didn't repair the houses; and she sold both the cows and the oxen. The only one that she kept was the old cow who now talked with Thumbietot. Her she let live because all the children had tended her. She could have taken maids and farm-hands into her service, who would have helped her with the work, but she couldn't bear to see strangers around her, since her own had deserted her. Perhaps she was better satisfied to let the farm go to ruin, since none of her children were coming back to take it after she was gone. She did not mind that she herself became poor, because she didn't value that which was only hers. But she was troubled lest the children should find out how hard she had it. "If only the children do not hear of this! If only the children do not hear of this!" she sighed as she tottered through the cowhouse. The children wrote constantly, and begged her to come out to them; but this she did not wish. She didn't want to see the land that had taken them from her. She was angry with it. "It's foolish of me, perhaps, that I do not like that land which has been so good for them," said she. "But I don't want to see it." She never thought of anything but the children, and of this--that they must needs have gone. When summer came, she led the cow out to graze in the big swamp. All day she would sit on the edge of the swamp, her hands in her lap; and on the way home she would say: "You see, R dlinna, if there had been large, rich fields here, in place of these barren swamps, then there would have been no need for them to leave." She could become furious with the swamp which spread out so big, and did no good. She could sit and talk about how it was the swamp's fault that the children had left her. This last evening she had been more trembly and feeble than ever before. She could not even do the milking. She had leaned against the manger and talked about two strangers who had been to see her, and had asked if they might buy the swamp. They wanted to drain it, and sow and raise grain on it. This had made her both anxious and glad. "Do you hear, R dlinna," she had said, "do you hear they said that grain can grow on the swamp? Now I shall write to the children to come home. Now they'll not have to stay away any longer; for now they can get their bread here at home." It was this that she had gone into the cabin to do-- The boy heard no more of what the old cow said. He had opened the cowhouse door and gone across the yard, and in to the dead whom he had but lately been so afraid of. It was not so poor in the cabin as he had expected. It was well supplied with the sort of things one generally finds among those who have relatives in America. In a corner there was an American rocking chair; on the table before the window lay a brocaded plush cover; there was a pretty spread on the bed; on the walls, in carved-wood frames, hung the photographs of the children and grandchildren who had gone away; on the bureau stood high vases and a couple of candlesticks, with thick, spiral candles in them. The boy searched for a matchbox and lighted these candles, not because he needed more light than he already had; but because he thought that this was one way to honour the dead. Then he went up to her, closed her eyes, folded her hands across her breast, and stroked back the thin gray hair from her face. He thought no more about being afraid of her. He was so deeply grieved because she had been forced to live out her old age in loneliness and longing. He, at least, would watch over her dead body this night. He hunted up the psalm book, and seated himself to read a couple of psalms in an undertone. But in the middle of the reading he paused--because he had begun to think about his mother and father. Think, that parents can long so for their children! This he had never known. Think, that life can be as though it was over for them when the children are away! Think, if those at home longed for him in the same way that this old peasant woman had longed! This thought made him happy, but he dared not believe in it. He had not been such a one that anybody could long for him. But what he had not been, perhaps he could become. Round about him he saw the portraits of those who were away. They were big, strong men and women with earnest faces. There were brides in long veils, and gentlemen in fine clothes; and there were children with waved hair and pretty white dresses. And he thought that they all stared blindly into vacancy--and did not want to see. "Poor you!" said the boy to the portraits. "Your mother is dead. You cannot make reparation now, because you went away from her. But my mother is living!" Here he paused, and nodded and smiled to himself. "My mother is living," said he. "Both father and mother are living." FROM TABERG TO HUSKVARNA _Friday, April fifteenth_. The boy sat awake nearly all night, but toward morning he fell asleep and then he dreamed of his father and mother. He could hardly recognise them. They had both grown gray, and had old and wrinkled faces. He asked how this had come about, and they answered that they had aged so because they had longed for him. He was both touched and astonished, for he had never believed but what they were glad to be rid of him. When the boy awoke the morning was come, with fine, clear weather. First, he himself ate a bit of bread which he found in the cabin; then he gave morning feed to both geese and cow, and opened the cowhouse door so that the cow could go over to the nearest farm. When the cow came along all by herself the neighbours would no doubt understand that something was wrong with her mistress. They would hurry over to the desolate farm to see how the old woman was getting along, and then they would find her dead body and bury it. The boy and the geese had barely raised themselves into the air, when they caught a glimpse of a high mountain, with almost perpendicular walls, and an abrupt, broken-off top; and they understood that this must be Taberg. On the summit stood Akka, with Yksi and Kaksi, Kolmi and Nelj , Viisi and Knusi, and all six goslings and waited for them. There was a rejoicing, and a cackling, and a fluttering, and a calling which no one can describe, when they saw that the goosey-gander and Dunfin had succeeded in finding Thumbietot. The woods grew pretty high up on Taberg's sides, but her highest peak was barren; and from there one could look out in all directions. If one gazed toward the east, or south, or west, then there was hardly anything to be seen but a poor highland with dark spruce-trees, brown morasses, ice-clad lakes, and bluish mountain-ridges. The boy couldn't keep from thinking it was true that the one who had created this hadn't taken very great pains with his work, but had thrown it together in a hurry. But if one glanced to the north, it was altogether different. Here it looked as if it had been worked out with the utmost care and affection. In this direction one saw only beautiful mountains, soft valleys, and winding rivers, all the way to the big Lake Vettern, which lay ice-free and transparently clear, and shone as if it wasn't filled with water but with blue light. It was Vettern that made it so pretty to look toward the north, because it looked as though a blue stream had risen up from the lake, and spread itself over land also. Groves and hills and roofs, and the spires of J nk ping City--which shimmered along Vettern's shores--lay enveloped in pale blue which caressed the eye. If there were countries in heaven, they, too, must be blue like this, thought the boy, and imagined that he had gotten a faint idea of how it must look in Paradise. Later in the day, when the geese continued their journey, they flew up toward the blue valley. They were in holiday humour; shrieked and made such a racket that no one who had ears could help hearing them. This happened to be the first really fine spring day they had had in this section. Until now, the spring had done its work under rain and bluster; and now, when it had all of a sudden become fine weather, the people were filled with such a longing after summer warmth and green woods that they could hardly perform their tasks. And when the wild geese rode by, high above the ground, cheerful and free, there wasn't one who did not drop what he had in hand, and glance at them. The first ones who saw the wild geese that day were miners on Taberg, who were digging ore at the mouth of the mine. When they heard them cackle, they paused in their drilling for ore, and one of them called to the birds: "Where are you going? Where are you going?" The geese didn't understand what he said, but the boy leaned forward over the goose-back, and answered for them: "Where there is neither pick nor hammer." When the miners heard the words, they thought it was their own longing that made the goose-cackle sound like human speech. "Take us along with you! Take us along with you!" they cried. "Not this year," shrieked the boy. "Not this year." The wild geese followed Taberg River down toward Monk Lake, and all the while they made the same racket. Here, on the narrow land-strip between Monk and Vettern lakes, lay J nk ping with its great factories. The wild geese rode first over Monksj paper mills. The noon rest hour was just over, and the big workmen were streaming down to the mill-gate. When they heard the wild geese, they stopped a moment to listen to them. "Where are you going? Where are you going?" called the workmen. The wild geese understood nothing of what they said, but the boy answered for them: "There, where there are neither machines nor steam-boxes." When the workmen heard the answer, they believed it was their own longing that made the goose-cackle sound like human speech. "Take us along with you!" "Not this year," answered the boy. "Not this year." Next, the geese rode over the well-known match factory, which lies on the shores of Vettern--large as a fortress--and lifts its high chimneys toward the sky. Not a soul moved out in the yards; but in a large hall young working-women sat and filled match-boxes. They had opened a window on account of the beautiful weather, and through it came the wild geese's call. The one who sat nearest the window, leaned out with a match-box in her hand, and cried: "Where are you going? Where are you going?" "To that land where there is no need of either light or matches," said the boy. The girl thought that what she had heard was only goose-cackle; but since she thought she had distinguished a couple of words, she called out in answer: "Take me along with you!" "Not this year," replied the boy. "Not this year." East of the factories rises J nk ping, on the most glorious spot that any city can occupy. The narrow Vettern has high, steep sand-shores, both on the eastern and western sides; but straight south, the sand-walls are broken down, just as if to make room for a large gate, through which one reaches the lake. And in the middle of the gate--with mountains to the left, and mountains to the right, with Monk Lake behind it, and Vettern in front of it--lies J nk ping. The wild geese travelled forward over the long, narrow city, and behaved themselves here just as they had done in the country. But in the city there was no one who answered them. It was not to be expected that city folks should stop out in the streets, and call to the wild geese. The trip extended further along Vettern's shores; and after a little they came to Sanna Sanitarium. Some of the patients had gone out on the veranda to enjoy the spring air, and in this way they heard the goose-cackle. "Where are you going?" asked one of them with such a feeble voice that he was scarcely heard. "To that land where there is neither sorrow nor sickness," answered the boy. "Take us along with you!" said the sick ones. "Not this year," answered the boy. "Not this year." When they had travelled still farther on, they came to Huskvarna. It lay in a valley. The mountains around it were steep and beautifully formed. A river rushed along the heights in long and narrow falls. Big workshops and factories lay below the mountain walls; and scattered over the valley-bottom were the workingmens' homes, encircled by little gardens; and in the centre of the valley lay the schoolhouse. Just as the wild geese came along, a bell rang, and a crowd of school children marched out in line. They were so numerous that the whole schoolyard was filled with them. "Where are you going? Where are you going?" the children shouted when they heard the wild geese. "Where there are neither books nor lessons to be found," answered the boy. "Take us along!" shrieked the children. "Not this year, but next," cried the boy. "Not this year, but next." THE BIG BIRD LAKE JARRO, THE WILD DUCK On the eastern shore of Vettern lies Mount Omberg; east of Omberg lies Dagmosse; east of Dagmosse lies Lake Takern. Around the whole of Takern spreads the big, even sterg ta plain. Takern is a pretty large lake and in olden times it must have been still larger. But then the people thought it covered entirely too much of the fertile plain, so they attempted to drain the water from it, that they might sow and reap on the lake-bottom. But they did not succeed in laying waste the entire lake--which had evidently been their intention--therefore it still hides a lot of land. Since the draining the lake has become so shallow that hardly at any point is it more than a couple of metres deep. The shores have become marshy and muddy; and out in the lake, little mud-islets stick up above the water's surface. Now, there is one who loves to stand with his feet in the water, if he can just keep his body and head in the air, and that is the reed. And it cannot find a better place to grow upon, than the long, shallow Takern shores, and around the little mud-islets. It thrives so well that it grows taller than a man's height, and so thick that it is almost impossible to push a boat through it. It forms a broad green enclosure around the whole lake, so that it is only accessible in a few places where the people have taken away the reeds. But if the reeds shut the people out, they give, in return, shelter and protection to many other things. In the reeds there are a lot of little dams and canals with green, still water, where duckweed and pondweed run to seed; and where gnat-eggs and blackfish and worms are hatched out in uncountable masses. And all along the shores of these little dams and canals, there are many well-concealed places, where seabirds hatch their eggs, and bring up their young without being disturbed, either by enemies or food worries. An incredible number of birds live in the Takern reeds; and more and more gather there every year, as it becomes known what a splendid abode it is. The first who settled there were the wild ducks; and they still live there by thousands. But they no longer own the entire lake, for they have been obliged to share it with swans, grebes, coots, loons, fen-ducks, and a lot of others. Takern is certainly the largest and choicest bird lake in the whole country; and the birds may count themselves lucky as long as they own such a retreat. But it is uncertain just how long they will be in control of reeds and mud-banks, for human beings cannot forget that the lake extends over a considerable portion of good and fertile soil; and every now and then the proposition to drain it comes up among them. And if these propositions were carried out, the many thousands of water-birds would be forced to move from this quarter. At the time when Nils Holgersson travelled around with the wild geese, there lived at Takern a wild duck named Jarro. He was a young bird, who had only lived one summer, one fall, and a winter; now, it was his first spring. He had just returned from South Africa, and had reached Takern in such good season that the ice was still on the lake. One evening, when he and the other young wild ducks played at racing backward and forward over the lake, a hunter fired a couple of shots at them, and Jarro was wounded in the breast. He thought he should die; but in order that the one who had shot him shouldn't get him into his power, he continued to fly as long as he possibly could. He didn't think whither he was directing his course, but only struggled to get far away. When his strength failed him, so that he could not fly any farther, he was no longer on the lake. He had flown a bit inland, and now he sank down before the entrance to one of the big farms which lie along the shores of Takern. A moment later a young farm-hand happened along. He saw Jarro,

yard

How many times the word 'yard' appears in the text?

Akka had commanded the wild geese to start out--two and two--in different directions, to search for him. But after a two days' hunt, whether or not they had found him, they were to meet in northwestern Sm land on a high mountain-top, which resembled an abrupt, chopped-off tower, and was called Taberg. After Akka had given them the best directions, and described carefully how they should find Taberg, they had separated. The white goosey-gander had chosen Dunfin as travelling companion, and they had flown about hither and thither with the greatest anxiety for Thumbietot. During this ramble they had heard a thrush, who sat in a tree-top, cry and wail that someone, who called himself Kidnapped-by-Crows, had made fun of him. They had talked with the thrush, and he had shown them in which direction that Kidnapped-by-Crows had travelled. Afterward, they had met a dove-cock, a starling and a drake; they had all wailed about a little culprit who had disturbed their song, and who was named Caught-by-Crows, Captured-by-Crows, and Stolen-by-Crows. In this way, they were enabled to trace Thumbietot all the way to the heather-heath in Sonnerbo township. As soon as the goosey-gander and Dunfin had found Thumbietot, they had started toward the north, in order to reach Taberg. But it had been a long road to travel, and the darkness was upon them before they had sighted the mountain top. "If we only get there by to-morrow, surely all our troubles will be over," thought the boy, and dug down into the straw to have it warmer. All the while the cow fussed and fumed in the stall. Then, all of a sudden, she began to talk to the boy. "Everything is wrong with me," said the cow. "I am neither milked nor tended. I have no night fodder in my manger, and no bed has been made under me. My mistress came here at dusk, to put things in order for me, but she felt so ill, that she had to go in soon again, and she has not returned." "It's distressing that I should be little and powerless," said the boy. "I don't believe that I am able to help you." "You can't make me believe that you are powerless because you are little," said the cow. "All the elves that I've ever heard of, were so strong that they could pull a whole load of hay and strike a cow dead with one fist." The boy couldn't help laughing at the cow. "They were a very different kind of elf from me," said he. "But I'll loosen your halter and open the door for you, so that you can go out and drink in one of the pools on the place, and then I'll try to climb up to the hayloft and throw down some hay in your manger." "Yes, that would be some help," said the cow. The boy did as he had said; and when the cow stood with a full manger in front of her, he thought that at last he should get some sleep. But he had hardly crept down in the bed before she began, anew, to talk to him. "You'll be clean put out with me if I ask you for one thing more," said the cow. "Oh, no I won't, if it's only something that I'm able to do," said the boy. "Then I will ask you to go into the cabin, directly opposite, and find out how my mistress is getting along. I fear some misfortune has come to her." "No! I can't do that," said the boy. "I dare not show myself before human beings." "'Surely you're not afraid of an old and sick woman," said the cow. "But you do not need to go into the cabin. Just stand outside the door and peep in through the crack!" "Oh! if that is all you ask of me, I'll do it of course," said the boy. With that he opened the cowshed door and went out in the yard. It was a fearful night! Neither moon nor stars shone; the wind blew a gale, and the rain came down in torrents. And the worst of all was that seven great owls sat in a row on the eaves of the cabin. It was awful just to hear them, where they sat and grumbled at the weather; but it was even worse to think what would happen to him if one of them should set eyes on him. That would be the last of him. "Pity him who is little!" said the boy as he ventured out in the yard. And he had a right to say this, for he was blown down twice before he got to the house: once the wind swept him into a pool, which was so deep that he came near drowning. But he got there nevertheless. He clambered up a pair of steps, scrambled over a threshold, and came into the hallway. The cabin door was closed, but down in one corner a large piece had been cut away, that the cat might go in and out. It was no difficulty whatever for the boy to see how things were in the cabin. He had hardly cast a glance in there before he staggered back and turned his head away. An old, gray-haired woman lay stretched out on the floor within. She neither moved nor moaned; and her face shone strangely white. It was as if an invisible moon had thrown a feeble light over it. The boy remembered that when his grandfather had died, his face had also become so strangely white-like. And he understood that the old woman who lay on the cabin floor must be dead. Death had probably come to her so suddenly that she didn't even have time to lie down on her bed. As he thought of being alone with the dead in the middle of the dark night, he was terribly afraid. He threw himself headlong down the steps, and rushed back to the cowshed. When he told the cow what he had seen in the cabin, she stopped eating. "So my mistress is dead," said she. "Then it will soon be over for me as well." "There will always be someone to look out for you," said the boy comfortingly. "Ah! you don't know," said the cow, "that I am already twice as old as a cow usually is before she is laid upon the slaughter-bench. But then I do not care to live any longer, since she, in there, can come no more to care for me." She said nothing more for a while, but the boy observed, no doubt, that she neither slept nor ate. It was not long before she began to speak again. "Is she lying on the bare floor?" she asked. "She is," said the boy. "She had a habit of coming out to the cowshed," she continued, "and talking about everything that troubled her. I understood what she said, although I could not answer her. These last few days she talked of how afraid she was lest there would be no one with her when she died. She was anxious for fear no one should close her eyes and fold her hands across her breast, after she was dead. Perhaps you'll go in and do this?" The boy hesitated. He remembered that when his grandfather had died, mother had been very careful about putting everything to rights. He knew this was something which had to be done. But, on the other hand, he felt that he didn't care go to the dead, in the ghastly night. He didn't say no; neither did he take a step toward the cowshed door. For a couple of seconds the old cow was silent--just as if she had expected an answer. But when the boy said nothing, she did not repeat her request. Instead, she began to talk with him of her mistress. There was much to tell, first and foremost, about all the children which she had brought up. They had been in the cowshed every day, and in the summer they had taken the cattle to pasture on the swamp and in the groves, so the old cow knew all about them. They had been splendid, all of them, and happy and industrious. A cow knew well enough what her caretakers were good for. There was also much to be said about the farm. It had not always been as poor as it was now. It was very large--although the greater part of it consisted of swamps and stony groves. There was not much room for fields, but there was plenty of good fodder everywhere. At one time there had been a cow for every stall in the cowshed; and the oxshed, which was now empty, had at one time been filled with oxen. And then there was life and gayety, both in cabin and cowhouse. When the mistress opened the cowshed door she would hum and sing, and all the cows lowed with gladness when they heard her coming. But the good man had died when the children were so small that they could not be of any assistance, and the mistress had to take charge of the farm, and all the work and responsibility. She had been as strong as a man, and had both ploughed and reaped. In the evenings, when she came into the cowshed to milk, sometimes she was so tired that she wept. Then she dashed away her tears, and was cheerful again. "It doesn't matter. Good times are coming again for me too, if only my children grow up. Yes, if they only grow up." But as soon as the children were grown, a strange longing came over them. They didn't want to stay at home, but went away to a strange country. Their mother never got any help from them. A couple of her children were married before they went away, and they had left their children behind, in the old home. And now these children followed the mistress in the cowshed, just as her own had done. They tended the cows, and were fine, good folk. And, in the evenings, when the mistress was so tired out that she could fall asleep in the middle of the milking, she would rouse herself again to renewed courage by thinking of them. "Good times are coming for me, too," said she--and shook off sleep--"when once they are grown." But when these children grew up, they went away to their parents in the strange land. No one came back--no one stayed at home--the old mistress was left alone on the farm. Probably she had never asked them to remain with her. "Think you, R dlinna, that I would ask them to stay here with me, when they can go out in the world and have things comfortable?" she would say as she stood in the stall with the old cow. "Here in Sm land they have only poverty to look forward to." But when the last grandchild was gone, it was all up with the mistress. All at once she became bent and gray, and tottered as she walked; as if she no longer had the strength to move about. She stopped working. She did not care to look after the farm, but let everything go to rack and ruin. She didn't repair the houses; and she sold both the cows and the oxen. The only one that she kept was the old cow who now talked with Thumbietot. Her she let live because all the children had tended her. She could have taken maids and farm-hands into her service, who would have helped her with the work, but she couldn't bear to see strangers around her, since her own had deserted her. Perhaps she was better satisfied to let the farm go to ruin, since none of her children were coming back to take it after she was gone. She did not mind that she herself became poor, because she didn't value that which was only hers. But she was troubled lest the children should find out how hard she had it. "If only the children do not hear of this! If only the children do not hear of this!" she sighed as she tottered through the cowhouse. The children wrote constantly, and begged her to come out to them; but this she did not wish. She didn't want to see the land that had taken them from her. She was angry with it. "It's foolish of me, perhaps, that I do not like that land which has been so good for them," said she. "But I don't want to see it." She never thought of anything but the children, and of this--that they must needs have gone. When summer came, she led the cow out to graze in the big swamp. All day she would sit on the edge of the swamp, her hands in her lap; and on the way home she would say: "You see, R dlinna, if there had been large, rich fields here, in place of these barren swamps, then there would have been no need for them to leave." She could become furious with the swamp which spread out so big, and did no good. She could sit and talk about how it was the swamp's fault that the children had left her. This last evening she had been more trembly and feeble than ever before. She could not even do the milking. She had leaned against the manger and talked about two strangers who had been to see her, and had asked if they might buy the swamp. They wanted to drain it, and sow and raise grain on it. This had made her both anxious and glad. "Do you hear, R dlinna," she had said, "do you hear they said that grain can grow on the swamp? Now I shall write to the children to come home. Now they'll not have to stay away any longer; for now they can get their bread here at home." It was this that she had gone into the cabin to do-- The boy heard no more of what the old cow said. He had opened the cowhouse door and gone across the yard, and in to the dead whom he had but lately been so afraid of. It was not so poor in the cabin as he had expected. It was well supplied with the sort of things one generally finds among those who have relatives in America. In a corner there was an American rocking chair; on the table before the window lay a brocaded plush cover; there was a pretty spread on the bed; on the walls, in carved-wood frames, hung the photographs of the children and grandchildren who had gone away; on the bureau stood high vases and a couple of candlesticks, with thick, spiral candles in them. The boy searched for a matchbox and lighted these candles, not because he needed more light than he already had; but because he thought that this was one way to honour the dead. Then he went up to her, closed her eyes, folded her hands across her breast, and stroked back the thin gray hair from her face. He thought no more about being afraid of her. He was so deeply grieved because she had been forced to live out her old age in loneliness and longing. He, at least, would watch over her dead body this night. He hunted up the psalm book, and seated himself to read a couple of psalms in an undertone. But in the middle of the reading he paused--because he had begun to think about his mother and father. Think, that parents can long so for their children! This he had never known. Think, that life can be as though it was over for them when the children are away! Think, if those at home longed for him in the same way that this old peasant woman had longed! This thought made him happy, but he dared not believe in it. He had not been such a one that anybody could long for him. But what he had not been, perhaps he could become. Round about him he saw the portraits of those who were away. They were big, strong men and women with earnest faces. There were brides in long veils, and gentlemen in fine clothes; and there were children with waved hair and pretty white dresses. And he thought that they all stared blindly into vacancy--and did not want to see. "Poor you!" said the boy to the portraits. "Your mother is dead. You cannot make reparation now, because you went away from her. But my mother is living!" Here he paused, and nodded and smiled to himself. "My mother is living," said he. "Both father and mother are living." FROM TABERG TO HUSKVARNA _Friday, April fifteenth_. The boy sat awake nearly all night, but toward morning he fell asleep and then he dreamed of his father and mother. He could hardly recognise them. They had both grown gray, and had old and wrinkled faces. He asked how this had come about, and they answered that they had aged so because they had longed for him. He was both touched and astonished, for he had never believed but what they were glad to be rid of him. When the boy awoke the morning was come, with fine, clear weather. First, he himself ate a bit of bread which he found in the cabin; then he gave morning feed to both geese and cow, and opened the cowhouse door so that the cow could go over to the nearest farm. When the cow came along all by herself the neighbours would no doubt understand that something was wrong with her mistress. They would hurry over to the desolate farm to see how the old woman was getting along, and then they would find her dead body and bury it. The boy and the geese had barely raised themselves into the air, when they caught a glimpse of a high mountain, with almost perpendicular walls, and an abrupt, broken-off top; and they understood that this must be Taberg. On the summit stood Akka, with Yksi and Kaksi, Kolmi and Nelj , Viisi and Knusi, and all six goslings and waited for them. There was a rejoicing, and a cackling, and a fluttering, and a calling which no one can describe, when they saw that the goosey-gander and Dunfin had succeeded in finding Thumbietot. The woods grew pretty high up on Taberg's sides, but her highest peak was barren; and from there one could look out in all directions. If one gazed toward the east, or south, or west, then there was hardly anything to be seen but a poor highland with dark spruce-trees, brown morasses, ice-clad lakes, and bluish mountain-ridges. The boy couldn't keep from thinking it was true that the one who had created this hadn't taken very great pains with his work, but had thrown it together in a hurry. But if one glanced to the north, it was altogether different. Here it looked as if it had been worked out with the utmost care and affection. In this direction one saw only beautiful mountains, soft valleys, and winding rivers, all the way to the big Lake Vettern, which lay ice-free and transparently clear, and shone as if it wasn't filled with water but with blue light. It was Vettern that made it so pretty to look toward the north, because it looked as though a blue stream had risen up from the lake, and spread itself over land also. Groves and hills and roofs, and the spires of J nk ping City--which shimmered along Vettern's shores--lay enveloped in pale blue which caressed the eye. If there were countries in heaven, they, too, must be blue like this, thought the boy, and imagined that he had gotten a faint idea of how it must look in Paradise. Later in the day, when the geese continued their journey, they flew up toward the blue valley. They were in holiday humour; shrieked and made such a racket that no one who had ears could help hearing them. This happened to be the first really fine spring day they had had in this section. Until now, the spring had done its work under rain and bluster; and now, when it had all of a sudden become fine weather, the people were filled with such a longing after summer warmth and green woods that they could hardly perform their tasks. And when the wild geese rode by, high above the ground, cheerful and free, there wasn't one who did not drop what he had in hand, and glance at them. The first ones who saw the wild geese that day were miners on Taberg, who were digging ore at the mouth of the mine. When they heard them cackle, they paused in their drilling for ore, and one of them called to the birds: "Where are you going? Where are you going?" The geese didn't understand what he said, but the boy leaned forward over the goose-back, and answered for them: "Where there is neither pick nor hammer." When the miners heard the words, they thought it was their own longing that made the goose-cackle sound like human speech. "Take us along with you! Take us along with you!" they cried. "Not this year," shrieked the boy. "Not this year." The wild geese followed Taberg River down toward Monk Lake, and all the while they made the same racket. Here, on the narrow land-strip between Monk and Vettern lakes, lay J nk ping with its great factories. The wild geese rode first over Monksj paper mills. The noon rest hour was just over, and the big workmen were streaming down to the mill-gate. When they heard the wild geese, they stopped a moment to listen to them. "Where are you going? Where are you going?" called the workmen. The wild geese understood nothing of what they said, but the boy answered for them: "There, where there are neither machines nor steam-boxes." When the workmen heard the answer, they believed it was their own longing that made the goose-cackle sound like human speech. "Take us along with you!" "Not this year," answered the boy. "Not this year." Next, the geese rode over the well-known match factory, which lies on the shores of Vettern--large as a fortress--and lifts its high chimneys toward the sky. Not a soul moved out in the yards; but in a large hall young working-women sat and filled match-boxes. They had opened a window on account of the beautiful weather, and through it came the wild geese's call. The one who sat nearest the window, leaned out with a match-box in her hand, and cried: "Where are you going? Where are you going?" "To that land where there is no need of either light or matches," said the boy. The girl thought that what she had heard was only goose-cackle; but since she thought she had distinguished a couple of words, she called out in answer: "Take me along with you!" "Not this year," replied the boy. "Not this year." East of the factories rises J nk ping, on the most glorious spot that any city can occupy. The narrow Vettern has high, steep sand-shores, both on the eastern and western sides; but straight south, the sand-walls are broken down, just as if to make room for a large gate, through which one reaches the lake. And in the middle of the gate--with mountains to the left, and mountains to the right, with Monk Lake behind it, and Vettern in front of it--lies J nk ping. The wild geese travelled forward over the long, narrow city, and behaved themselves here just as they had done in the country. But in the city there was no one who answered them. It was not to be expected that city folks should stop out in the streets, and call to the wild geese. The trip extended further along Vettern's shores; and after a little they came to Sanna Sanitarium. Some of the patients had gone out on the veranda to enjoy the spring air, and in this way they heard the goose-cackle. "Where are you going?" asked one of them with such a feeble voice that he was scarcely heard. "To that land where there is neither sorrow nor sickness," answered the boy. "Take us along with you!" said the sick ones. "Not this year," answered the boy. "Not this year." When they had travelled still farther on, they came to Huskvarna. It lay in a valley. The mountains around it were steep and beautifully formed. A river rushed along the heights in long and narrow falls. Big workshops and factories lay below the mountain walls; and scattered over the valley-bottom were the workingmens' homes, encircled by little gardens; and in the centre of the valley lay the schoolhouse. Just as the wild geese came along, a bell rang, and a crowd of school children marched out in line. They were so numerous that the whole schoolyard was filled with them. "Where are you going? Where are you going?" the children shouted when they heard the wild geese. "Where there are neither books nor lessons to be found," answered the boy. "Take us along!" shrieked the children. "Not this year, but next," cried the boy. "Not this year, but next." THE BIG BIRD LAKE JARRO, THE WILD DUCK On the eastern shore of Vettern lies Mount Omberg; east of Omberg lies Dagmosse; east of Dagmosse lies Lake Takern. Around the whole of Takern spreads the big, even sterg ta plain. Takern is a pretty large lake and in olden times it must have been still larger. But then the people thought it covered entirely too much of the fertile plain, so they attempted to drain the water from it, that they might sow and reap on the lake-bottom. But they did not succeed in laying waste the entire lake--which had evidently been their intention--therefore it still hides a lot of land. Since the draining the lake has become so shallow that hardly at any point is it more than a couple of metres deep. The shores have become marshy and muddy; and out in the lake, little mud-islets stick up above the water's surface. Now, there is one who loves to stand with his feet in the water, if he can just keep his body and head in the air, and that is the reed. And it cannot find a better place to grow upon, than the long, shallow Takern shores, and around the little mud-islets. It thrives so well that it grows taller than a man's height, and so thick that it is almost impossible to push a boat through it. It forms a broad green enclosure around the whole lake, so that it is only accessible in a few places where the people have taken away the reeds. But if the reeds shut the people out, they give, in return, shelter and protection to many other things. In the reeds there are a lot of little dams and canals with green, still water, where duckweed and pondweed run to seed; and where gnat-eggs and blackfish and worms are hatched out in uncountable masses. And all along the shores of these little dams and canals, there are many well-concealed places, where seabirds hatch their eggs, and bring up their young without being disturbed, either by enemies or food worries. An incredible number of birds live in the Takern reeds; and more and more gather there every year, as it becomes known what a splendid abode it is. The first who settled there were the wild ducks; and they still live there by thousands. But they no longer own the entire lake, for they have been obliged to share it with swans, grebes, coots, loons, fen-ducks, and a lot of others. Takern is certainly the largest and choicest bird lake in the whole country; and the birds may count themselves lucky as long as they own such a retreat. But it is uncertain just how long they will be in control of reeds and mud-banks, for human beings cannot forget that the lake extends over a considerable portion of good and fertile soil; and every now and then the proposition to drain it comes up among them. And if these propositions were carried out, the many thousands of water-birds would be forced to move from this quarter. At the time when Nils Holgersson travelled around with the wild geese, there lived at Takern a wild duck named Jarro. He was a young bird, who had only lived one summer, one fall, and a winter; now, it was his first spring. He had just returned from South Africa, and had reached Takern in such good season that the ice was still on the lake. One evening, when he and the other young wild ducks played at racing backward and forward over the lake, a hunter fired a couple of shots at them, and Jarro was wounded in the breast. He thought he should die; but in order that the one who had shot him shouldn't get him into his power, he continued to fly as long as he possibly could. He didn't think whither he was directing his course, but only struggled to get far away. When his strength failed him, so that he could not fly any farther, he was no longer on the lake. He had flown a bit inland, and now he sank down before the entrance to one of the big farms which lie along the shores of Takern. A moment later a young farm-hand happened along. He saw Jarro,

came

How many times the word 'came' appears in the text?

Akka had commanded the wild geese to start out--two and two--in different directions, to search for him. But after a two days' hunt, whether or not they had found him, they were to meet in northwestern Sm land on a high mountain-top, which resembled an abrupt, chopped-off tower, and was called Taberg. After Akka had given them the best directions, and described carefully how they should find Taberg, they had separated. The white goosey-gander had chosen Dunfin as travelling companion, and they had flown about hither and thither with the greatest anxiety for Thumbietot. During this ramble they had heard a thrush, who sat in a tree-top, cry and wail that someone, who called himself Kidnapped-by-Crows, had made fun of him. They had talked with the thrush, and he had shown them in which direction that Kidnapped-by-Crows had travelled. Afterward, they had met a dove-cock, a starling and a drake; they had all wailed about a little culprit who had disturbed their song, and who was named Caught-by-Crows, Captured-by-Crows, and Stolen-by-Crows. In this way, they were enabled to trace Thumbietot all the way to the heather-heath in Sonnerbo township. As soon as the goosey-gander and Dunfin had found Thumbietot, they had started toward the north, in order to reach Taberg. But it had been a long road to travel, and the darkness was upon them before they had sighted the mountain top. "If we only get there by to-morrow, surely all our troubles will be over," thought the boy, and dug down into the straw to have it warmer. All the while the cow fussed and fumed in the stall. Then, all of a sudden, she began to talk to the boy. "Everything is wrong with me," said the cow. "I am neither milked nor tended. I have no night fodder in my manger, and no bed has been made under me. My mistress came here at dusk, to put things in order for me, but she felt so ill, that she had to go in soon again, and she has not returned." "It's distressing that I should be little and powerless," said the boy. "I don't believe that I am able to help you." "You can't make me believe that you are powerless because you are little," said the cow. "All the elves that I've ever heard of, were so strong that they could pull a whole load of hay and strike a cow dead with one fist." The boy couldn't help laughing at the cow. "They were a very different kind of elf from me," said he. "But I'll loosen your halter and open the door for you, so that you can go out and drink in one of the pools on the place, and then I'll try to climb up to the hayloft and throw down some hay in your manger." "Yes, that would be some help," said the cow. The boy did as he had said; and when the cow stood with a full manger in front of her, he thought that at last he should get some sleep. But he had hardly crept down in the bed before she began, anew, to talk to him. "You'll be clean put out with me if I ask you for one thing more," said the cow. "Oh, no I won't, if it's only something that I'm able to do," said the boy. "Then I will ask you to go into the cabin, directly opposite, and find out how my mistress is getting along. I fear some misfortune has come to her." "No! I can't do that," said the boy. "I dare not show myself before human beings." "'Surely you're not afraid of an old and sick woman," said the cow. "But you do not need to go into the cabin. Just stand outside the door and peep in through the crack!" "Oh! if that is all you ask of me, I'll do it of course," said the boy. With that he opened the cowshed door and went out in the yard. It was a fearful night! Neither moon nor stars shone; the wind blew a gale, and the rain came down in torrents. And the worst of all was that seven great owls sat in a row on the eaves of the cabin. It was awful just to hear them, where they sat and grumbled at the weather; but it was even worse to think what would happen to him if one of them should set eyes on him. That would be the last of him. "Pity him who is little!" said the boy as he ventured out in the yard. And he had a right to say this, for he was blown down twice before he got to the house: once the wind swept him into a pool, which was so deep that he came near drowning. But he got there nevertheless. He clambered up a pair of steps, scrambled over a threshold, and came into the hallway. The cabin door was closed, but down in one corner a large piece had been cut away, that the cat might go in and out. It was no difficulty whatever for the boy to see how things were in the cabin. He had hardly cast a glance in there before he staggered back and turned his head away. An old, gray-haired woman lay stretched out on the floor within. She neither moved nor moaned; and her face shone strangely white. It was as if an invisible moon had thrown a feeble light over it. The boy remembered that when his grandfather had died, his face had also become so strangely white-like. And he understood that the old woman who lay on the cabin floor must be dead. Death had probably come to her so suddenly that she didn't even have time to lie down on her bed. As he thought of being alone with the dead in the middle of the dark night, he was terribly afraid. He threw himself headlong down the steps, and rushed back to the cowshed. When he told the cow what he had seen in the cabin, she stopped eating. "So my mistress is dead," said she. "Then it will soon be over for me as well." "There will always be someone to look out for you," said the boy comfortingly. "Ah! you don't know," said the cow, "that I am already twice as old as a cow usually is before she is laid upon the slaughter-bench. But then I do not care to live any longer, since she, in there, can come no more to care for me." She said nothing more for a while, but the boy observed, no doubt, that she neither slept nor ate. It was not long before she began to speak again. "Is she lying on the bare floor?" she asked. "She is," said the boy. "She had a habit of coming out to the cowshed," she continued, "and talking about everything that troubled her. I understood what she said, although I could not answer her. These last few days she talked of how afraid she was lest there would be no one with her when she died. She was anxious for fear no one should close her eyes and fold her hands across her breast, after she was dead. Perhaps you'll go in and do this?" The boy hesitated. He remembered that when his grandfather had died, mother had been very careful about putting everything to rights. He knew this was something which had to be done. But, on the other hand, he felt that he didn't care go to the dead, in the ghastly night. He didn't say no; neither did he take a step toward the cowshed door. For a couple of seconds the old cow was silent--just as if she had expected an answer. But when the boy said nothing, she did not repeat her request. Instead, she began to talk with him of her mistress. There was much to tell, first and foremost, about all the children which she had brought up. They had been in the cowshed every day, and in the summer they had taken the cattle to pasture on the swamp and in the groves, so the old cow knew all about them. They had been splendid, all of them, and happy and industrious. A cow knew well enough what her caretakers were good for. There was also much to be said about the farm. It had not always been as poor as it was now. It was very large--although the greater part of it consisted of swamps and stony groves. There was not much room for fields, but there was plenty of good fodder everywhere. At one time there had been a cow for every stall in the cowshed; and the oxshed, which was now empty, had at one time been filled with oxen. And then there was life and gayety, both in cabin and cowhouse. When the mistress opened the cowshed door she would hum and sing, and all the cows lowed with gladness when they heard her coming. But the good man had died when the children were so small that they could not be of any assistance, and the mistress had to take charge of the farm, and all the work and responsibility. She had been as strong as a man, and had both ploughed and reaped. In the evenings, when she came into the cowshed to milk, sometimes she was so tired that she wept. Then she dashed away her tears, and was cheerful again. "It doesn't matter. Good times are coming again for me too, if only my children grow up. Yes, if they only grow up." But as soon as the children were grown, a strange longing came over them. They didn't want to stay at home, but went away to a strange country. Their mother never got any help from them. A couple of her children were married before they went away, and they had left their children behind, in the old home. And now these children followed the mistress in the cowshed, just as her own had done. They tended the cows, and were fine, good folk. And, in the evenings, when the mistress was so tired out that she could fall asleep in the middle of the milking, she would rouse herself again to renewed courage by thinking of them. "Good times are coming for me, too," said she--and shook off sleep--"when once they are grown." But when these children grew up, they went away to their parents in the strange land. No one came back--no one stayed at home--the old mistress was left alone on the farm. Probably she had never asked them to remain with her. "Think you, R dlinna, that I would ask them to stay here with me, when they can go out in the world and have things comfortable?" she would say as she stood in the stall with the old cow. "Here in Sm land they have only poverty to look forward to." But when the last grandchild was gone, it was all up with the mistress. All at once she became bent and gray, and tottered as she walked; as if she no longer had the strength to move about. She stopped working. She did not care to look after the farm, but let everything go to rack and ruin. She didn't repair the houses; and she sold both the cows and the oxen. The only one that she kept was the old cow who now talked with Thumbietot. Her she let live because all the children had tended her. She could have taken maids and farm-hands into her service, who would have helped her with the work, but she couldn't bear to see strangers around her, since her own had deserted her. Perhaps she was better satisfied to let the farm go to ruin, since none of her children were coming back to take it after she was gone. She did not mind that she herself became poor, because she didn't value that which was only hers. But she was troubled lest the children should find out how hard she had it. "If only the children do not hear of this! If only the children do not hear of this!" she sighed as she tottered through the cowhouse. The children wrote constantly, and begged her to come out to them; but this she did not wish. She didn't want to see the land that had taken them from her. She was angry with it. "It's foolish of me, perhaps, that I do not like that land which has been so good for them," said she. "But I don't want to see it." She never thought of anything but the children, and of this--that they must needs have gone. When summer came, she led the cow out to graze in the big swamp. All day she would sit on the edge of the swamp, her hands in her lap; and on the way home she would say: "You see, R dlinna, if there had been large, rich fields here, in place of these barren swamps, then there would have been no need for them to leave." She could become furious with the swamp which spread out so big, and did no good. She could sit and talk about how it was the swamp's fault that the children had left her. This last evening she had been more trembly and feeble than ever before. She could not even do the milking. She had leaned against the manger and talked about two strangers who had been to see her, and had asked if they might buy the swamp. They wanted to drain it, and sow and raise grain on it. This had made her both anxious and glad. "Do you hear, R dlinna," she had said, "do you hear they said that grain can grow on the swamp? Now I shall write to the children to come home. Now they'll not have to stay away any longer; for now they can get their bread here at home." It was this that she had gone into the cabin to do-- The boy heard no more of what the old cow said. He had opened the cowhouse door and gone across the yard, and in to the dead whom he had but lately been so afraid of. It was not so poor in the cabin as he had expected. It was well supplied with the sort of things one generally finds among those who have relatives in America. In a corner there was an American rocking chair; on the table before the window lay a brocaded plush cover; there was a pretty spread on the bed; on the walls, in carved-wood frames, hung the photographs of the children and grandchildren who had gone away; on the bureau stood high vases and a couple of candlesticks, with thick, spiral candles in them. The boy searched for a matchbox and lighted these candles, not because he needed more light than he already had; but because he thought that this was one way to honour the dead. Then he went up to her, closed her eyes, folded her hands across her breast, and stroked back the thin gray hair from her face. He thought no more about being afraid of her. He was so deeply grieved because she had been forced to live out her old age in loneliness and longing. He, at least, would watch over her dead body this night. He hunted up the psalm book, and seated himself to read a couple of psalms in an undertone. But in the middle of the reading he paused--because he had begun to think about his mother and father. Think, that parents can long so for their children! This he had never known. Think, that life can be as though it was over for them when the children are away! Think, if those at home longed for him in the same way that this old peasant woman had longed! This thought made him happy, but he dared not believe in it. He had not been such a one that anybody could long for him. But what he had not been, perhaps he could become. Round about him he saw the portraits of those who were away. They were big, strong men and women with earnest faces. There were brides in long veils, and gentlemen in fine clothes; and there were children with waved hair and pretty white dresses. And he thought that they all stared blindly into vacancy--and did not want to see. "Poor you!" said the boy to the portraits. "Your mother is dead. You cannot make reparation now, because you went away from her. But my mother is living!" Here he paused, and nodded and smiled to himself. "My mother is living," said he. "Both father and mother are living." FROM TABERG TO HUSKVARNA _Friday, April fifteenth_. The boy sat awake nearly all night, but toward morning he fell asleep and then he dreamed of his father and mother. He could hardly recognise them. They had both grown gray, and had old and wrinkled faces. He asked how this had come about, and they answered that they had aged so because they had longed for him. He was both touched and astonished, for he had never believed but what they were glad to be rid of him. When the boy awoke the morning was come, with fine, clear weather. First, he himself ate a bit of bread which he found in the cabin; then he gave morning feed to both geese and cow, and opened the cowhouse door so that the cow could go over to the nearest farm. When the cow came along all by herself the neighbours would no doubt understand that something was wrong with her mistress. They would hurry over to the desolate farm to see how the old woman was getting along, and then they would find her dead body and bury it. The boy and the geese had barely raised themselves into the air, when they caught a glimpse of a high mountain, with almost perpendicular walls, and an abrupt, broken-off top; and they understood that this must be Taberg. On the summit stood Akka, with Yksi and Kaksi, Kolmi and Nelj , Viisi and Knusi, and all six goslings and waited for them. There was a rejoicing, and a cackling, and a fluttering, and a calling which no one can describe, when they saw that the goosey-gander and Dunfin had succeeded in finding Thumbietot. The woods grew pretty high up on Taberg's sides, but her highest peak was barren; and from there one could look out in all directions. If one gazed toward the east, or south, or west, then there was hardly anything to be seen but a poor highland with dark spruce-trees, brown morasses, ice-clad lakes, and bluish mountain-ridges. The boy couldn't keep from thinking it was true that the one who had created this hadn't taken very great pains with his work, but had thrown it together in a hurry. But if one glanced to the north, it was altogether different. Here it looked as if it had been worked out with the utmost care and affection. In this direction one saw only beautiful mountains, soft valleys, and winding rivers, all the way to the big Lake Vettern, which lay ice-free and transparently clear, and shone as if it wasn't filled with water but with blue light. It was Vettern that made it so pretty to look toward the north, because it looked as though a blue stream had risen up from the lake, and spread itself over land also. Groves and hills and roofs, and the spires of J nk ping City--which shimmered along Vettern's shores--lay enveloped in pale blue which caressed the eye. If there were countries in heaven, they, too, must be blue like this, thought the boy, and imagined that he had gotten a faint idea of how it must look in Paradise. Later in the day, when the geese continued their journey, they flew up toward the blue valley. They were in holiday humour; shrieked and made such a racket that no one who had ears could help hearing them. This happened to be the first really fine spring day they had had in this section. Until now, the spring had done its work under rain and bluster; and now, when it had all of a sudden become fine weather, the people were filled with such a longing after summer warmth and green woods that they could hardly perform their tasks. And when the wild geese rode by, high above the ground, cheerful and free, there wasn't one who did not drop what he had in hand, and glance at them. The first ones who saw the wild geese that day were miners on Taberg, who were digging ore at the mouth of the mine. When they heard them cackle, they paused in their drilling for ore, and one of them called to the birds: "Where are you going? Where are you going?" The geese didn't understand what he said, but the boy leaned forward over the goose-back, and answered for them: "Where there is neither pick nor hammer." When the miners heard the words, they thought it was their own longing that made the goose-cackle sound like human speech. "Take us along with you! Take us along with you!" they cried. "Not this year," shrieked the boy. "Not this year." The wild geese followed Taberg River down toward Monk Lake, and all the while they made the same racket. Here, on the narrow land-strip between Monk and Vettern lakes, lay J nk ping with its great factories. The wild geese rode first over Monksj paper mills. The noon rest hour was just over, and the big workmen were streaming down to the mill-gate. When they heard the wild geese, they stopped a moment to listen to them. "Where are you going? Where are you going?" called the workmen. The wild geese understood nothing of what they said, but the boy answered for them: "There, where there are neither machines nor steam-boxes." When the workmen heard the answer, they believed it was their own longing that made the goose-cackle sound like human speech. "Take us along with you!" "Not this year," answered the boy. "Not this year." Next, the geese rode over the well-known match factory, which lies on the shores of Vettern--large as a fortress--and lifts its high chimneys toward the sky. Not a soul moved out in the yards; but in a large hall young working-women sat and filled match-boxes. They had opened a window on account of the beautiful weather, and through it came the wild geese's call. The one who sat nearest the window, leaned out with a match-box in her hand, and cried: "Where are you going? Where are you going?" "To that land where there is no need of either light or matches," said the boy. The girl thought that what she had heard was only goose-cackle; but since she thought she had distinguished a couple of words, she called out in answer: "Take me along with you!" "Not this year," replied the boy. "Not this year." East of the factories rises J nk ping, on the most glorious spot that any city can occupy. The narrow Vettern has high, steep sand-shores, both on the eastern and western sides; but straight south, the sand-walls are broken down, just as if to make room for a large gate, through which one reaches the lake. And in the middle of the gate--with mountains to the left, and mountains to the right, with Monk Lake behind it, and Vettern in front of it--lies J nk ping. The wild geese travelled forward over the long, narrow city, and behaved themselves here just as they had done in the country. But in the city there was no one who answered them. It was not to be expected that city folks should stop out in the streets, and call to the wild geese. The trip extended further along Vettern's shores; and after a little they came to Sanna Sanitarium. Some of the patients had gone out on the veranda to enjoy the spring air, and in this way they heard the goose-cackle. "Where are you going?" asked one of them with such a feeble voice that he was scarcely heard. "To that land where there is neither sorrow nor sickness," answered the boy. "Take us along with you!" said the sick ones. "Not this year," answered the boy. "Not this year." When they had travelled still farther on, they came to Huskvarna. It lay in a valley. The mountains around it were steep and beautifully formed. A river rushed along the heights in long and narrow falls. Big workshops and factories lay below the mountain walls; and scattered over the valley-bottom were the workingmens' homes, encircled by little gardens; and in the centre of the valley lay the schoolhouse. Just as the wild geese came along, a bell rang, and a crowd of school children marched out in line. They were so numerous that the whole schoolyard was filled with them. "Where are you going? Where are you going?" the children shouted when they heard the wild geese. "Where there are neither books nor lessons to be found," answered the boy. "Take us along!" shrieked the children. "Not this year, but next," cried the boy. "Not this year, but next." THE BIG BIRD LAKE JARRO, THE WILD DUCK On the eastern shore of Vettern lies Mount Omberg; east of Omberg lies Dagmosse; east of Dagmosse lies Lake Takern. Around the whole of Takern spreads the big, even sterg ta plain. Takern is a pretty large lake and in olden times it must have been still larger. But then the people thought it covered entirely too much of the fertile plain, so they attempted to drain the water from it, that they might sow and reap on the lake-bottom. But they did not succeed in laying waste the entire lake--which had evidently been their intention--therefore it still hides a lot of land. Since the draining the lake has become so shallow that hardly at any point is it more than a couple of metres deep. The shores have become marshy and muddy; and out in the lake, little mud-islets stick up above the water's surface. Now, there is one who loves to stand with his feet in the water, if he can just keep his body and head in the air, and that is the reed. And it cannot find a better place to grow upon, than the long, shallow Takern shores, and around the little mud-islets. It thrives so well that it grows taller than a man's height, and so thick that it is almost impossible to push a boat through it. It forms a broad green enclosure around the whole lake, so that it is only accessible in a few places where the people have taken away the reeds. But if the reeds shut the people out, they give, in return, shelter and protection to many other things. In the reeds there are a lot of little dams and canals with green, still water, where duckweed and pondweed run to seed; and where gnat-eggs and blackfish and worms are hatched out in uncountable masses. And all along the shores of these little dams and canals, there are many well-concealed places, where seabirds hatch their eggs, and bring up their young without being disturbed, either by enemies or food worries. An incredible number of birds live in the Takern reeds; and more and more gather there every year, as it becomes known what a splendid abode it is. The first who settled there were the wild ducks; and they still live there by thousands. But they no longer own the entire lake, for they have been obliged to share it with swans, grebes, coots, loons, fen-ducks, and a lot of others. Takern is certainly the largest and choicest bird lake in the whole country; and the birds may count themselves lucky as long as they own such a retreat. But it is uncertain just how long they will be in control of reeds and mud-banks, for human beings cannot forget that the lake extends over a considerable portion of good and fertile soil; and every now and then the proposition to drain it comes up among them. And if these propositions were carried out, the many thousands of water-birds would be forced to move from this quarter. At the time when Nils Holgersson travelled around with the wild geese, there lived at Takern a wild duck named Jarro. He was a young bird, who had only lived one summer, one fall, and a winter; now, it was his first spring. He had just returned from South Africa, and had reached Takern in such good season that the ice was still on the lake. One evening, when he and the other young wild ducks played at racing backward and forward over the lake, a hunter fired a couple of shots at them, and Jarro was wounded in the breast. He thought he should die; but in order that the one who had shot him shouldn't get him into his power, he continued to fly as long as he possibly could. He didn't think whither he was directing his course, but only struggled to get far away. When his strength failed him, so that he could not fly any farther, he was no longer on the lake. He had flown a bit inland, and now he sank down before the entrance to one of the big farms which lie along the shores of Takern. A moment later a young farm-hand happened along. He saw Jarro,

threshold

How many times the word 'threshold' appears in the text?

Akka had commanded the wild geese to start out--two and two--in different directions, to search for him. But after a two days' hunt, whether or not they had found him, they were to meet in northwestern Sm land on a high mountain-top, which resembled an abrupt, chopped-off tower, and was called Taberg. After Akka had given them the best directions, and described carefully how they should find Taberg, they had separated. The white goosey-gander had chosen Dunfin as travelling companion, and they had flown about hither and thither with the greatest anxiety for Thumbietot. During this ramble they had heard a thrush, who sat in a tree-top, cry and wail that someone, who called himself Kidnapped-by-Crows, had made fun of him. They had talked with the thrush, and he had shown them in which direction that Kidnapped-by-Crows had travelled. Afterward, they had met a dove-cock, a starling and a drake; they had all wailed about a little culprit who had disturbed their song, and who was named Caught-by-Crows, Captured-by-Crows, and Stolen-by-Crows. In this way, they were enabled to trace Thumbietot all the way to the heather-heath in Sonnerbo township. As soon as the goosey-gander and Dunfin had found Thumbietot, they had started toward the north, in order to reach Taberg. But it had been a long road to travel, and the darkness was upon them before they had sighted the mountain top. "If we only get there by to-morrow, surely all our troubles will be over," thought the boy, and dug down into the straw to have it warmer. All the while the cow fussed and fumed in the stall. Then, all of a sudden, she began to talk to the boy. "Everything is wrong with me," said the cow. "I am neither milked nor tended. I have no night fodder in my manger, and no bed has been made under me. My mistress came here at dusk, to put things in order for me, but she felt so ill, that she had to go in soon again, and she has not returned." "It's distressing that I should be little and powerless," said the boy. "I don't believe that I am able to help you." "You can't make me believe that you are powerless because you are little," said the cow. "All the elves that I've ever heard of, were so strong that they could pull a whole load of hay and strike a cow dead with one fist." The boy couldn't help laughing at the cow. "They were a very different kind of elf from me," said he. "But I'll loosen your halter and open the door for you, so that you can go out and drink in one of the pools on the place, and then I'll try to climb up to the hayloft and throw down some hay in your manger." "Yes, that would be some help," said the cow. The boy did as he had said; and when the cow stood with a full manger in front of her, he thought that at last he should get some sleep. But he had hardly crept down in the bed before she began, anew, to talk to him. "You'll be clean put out with me if I ask you for one thing more," said the cow. "Oh, no I won't, if it's only something that I'm able to do," said the boy. "Then I will ask you to go into the cabin, directly opposite, and find out how my mistress is getting along. I fear some misfortune has come to her." "No! I can't do that," said the boy. "I dare not show myself before human beings." "'Surely you're not afraid of an old and sick woman," said the cow. "But you do not need to go into the cabin. Just stand outside the door and peep in through the crack!" "Oh! if that is all you ask of me, I'll do it of course," said the boy. With that he opened the cowshed door and went out in the yard. It was a fearful night! Neither moon nor stars shone; the wind blew a gale, and the rain came down in torrents. And the worst of all was that seven great owls sat in a row on the eaves of the cabin. It was awful just to hear them, where they sat and grumbled at the weather; but it was even worse to think what would happen to him if one of them should set eyes on him. That would be the last of him. "Pity him who is little!" said the boy as he ventured out in the yard. And he had a right to say this, for he was blown down twice before he got to the house: once the wind swept him into a pool, which was so deep that he came near drowning. But he got there nevertheless. He clambered up a pair of steps, scrambled over a threshold, and came into the hallway. The cabin door was closed, but down in one corner a large piece had been cut away, that the cat might go in and out. It was no difficulty whatever for the boy to see how things were in the cabin. He had hardly cast a glance in there before he staggered back and turned his head away. An old, gray-haired woman lay stretched out on the floor within. She neither moved nor moaned; and her face shone strangely white. It was as if an invisible moon had thrown a feeble light over it. The boy remembered that when his grandfather had died, his face had also become so strangely white-like. And he understood that the old woman who lay on the cabin floor must be dead. Death had probably come to her so suddenly that she didn't even have time to lie down on her bed. As he thought of being alone with the dead in the middle of the dark night, he was terribly afraid. He threw himself headlong down the steps, and rushed back to the cowshed. When he told the cow what he had seen in the cabin, she stopped eating. "So my mistress is dead," said she. "Then it will soon be over for me as well." "There will always be someone to look out for you," said the boy comfortingly. "Ah! you don't know," said the cow, "that I am already twice as old as a cow usually is before she is laid upon the slaughter-bench. But then I do not care to live any longer, since she, in there, can come no more to care for me." She said nothing more for a while, but the boy observed, no doubt, that she neither slept nor ate. It was not long before she began to speak again. "Is she lying on the bare floor?" she asked. "She is," said the boy. "She had a habit of coming out to the cowshed," she continued, "and talking about everything that troubled her. I understood what she said, although I could not answer her. These last few days she talked of how afraid she was lest there would be no one with her when she died. She was anxious for fear no one should close her eyes and fold her hands across her breast, after she was dead. Perhaps you'll go in and do this?" The boy hesitated. He remembered that when his grandfather had died, mother had been very careful about putting everything to rights. He knew this was something which had to be done. But, on the other hand, he felt that he didn't care go to the dead, in the ghastly night. He didn't say no; neither did he take a step toward the cowshed door. For a couple of seconds the old cow was silent--just as if she had expected an answer. But when the boy said nothing, she did not repeat her request. Instead, she began to talk with him of her mistress. There was much to tell, first and foremost, about all the children which she had brought up. They had been in the cowshed every day, and in the summer they had taken the cattle to pasture on the swamp and in the groves, so the old cow knew all about them. They had been splendid, all of them, and happy and industrious. A cow knew well enough what her caretakers were good for. There was also much to be said about the farm. It had not always been as poor as it was now. It was very large--although the greater part of it consisted of swamps and stony groves. There was not much room for fields, but there was plenty of good fodder everywhere. At one time there had been a cow for every stall in the cowshed; and the oxshed, which was now empty, had at one time been filled with oxen. And then there was life and gayety, both in cabin and cowhouse. When the mistress opened the cowshed door she would hum and sing, and all the cows lowed with gladness when they heard her coming. But the good man had died when the children were so small that they could not be of any assistance, and the mistress had to take charge of the farm, and all the work and responsibility. She had been as strong as a man, and had both ploughed and reaped. In the evenings, when she came into the cowshed to milk, sometimes she was so tired that she wept. Then she dashed away her tears, and was cheerful again. "It doesn't matter. Good times are coming again for me too, if only my children grow up. Yes, if they only grow up." But as soon as the children were grown, a strange longing came over them. They didn't want to stay at home, but went away to a strange country. Their mother never got any help from them. A couple of her children were married before they went away, and they had left their children behind, in the old home. And now these children followed the mistress in the cowshed, just as her own had done. They tended the cows, and were fine, good folk. And, in the evenings, when the mistress was so tired out that she could fall asleep in the middle of the milking, she would rouse herself again to renewed courage by thinking of them. "Good times are coming for me, too," said she--and shook off sleep--"when once they are grown." But when these children grew up, they went away to their parents in the strange land. No one came back--no one stayed at home--the old mistress was left alone on the farm. Probably she had never asked them to remain with her. "Think you, R dlinna, that I would ask them to stay here with me, when they can go out in the world and have things comfortable?" she would say as she stood in the stall with the old cow. "Here in Sm land they have only poverty to look forward to." But when the last grandchild was gone, it was all up with the mistress. All at once she became bent and gray, and tottered as she walked; as if she no longer had the strength to move about. She stopped working. She did not care to look after the farm, but let everything go to rack and ruin. She didn't repair the houses; and she sold both the cows and the oxen. The only one that she kept was the old cow who now talked with Thumbietot. Her she let live because all the children had tended her. She could have taken maids and farm-hands into her service, who would have helped her with the work, but she couldn't bear to see strangers around her, since her own had deserted her. Perhaps she was better satisfied to let the farm go to ruin, since none of her children were coming back to take it after she was gone. She did not mind that she herself became poor, because she didn't value that which was only hers. But she was troubled lest the children should find out how hard she had it. "If only the children do not hear of this! If only the children do not hear of this!" she sighed as she tottered through the cowhouse. The children wrote constantly, and begged her to come out to them; but this she did not wish. She didn't want to see the land that had taken them from her. She was angry with it. "It's foolish of me, perhaps, that I do not like that land which has been so good for them," said she. "But I don't want to see it." She never thought of anything but the children, and of this--that they must needs have gone. When summer came, she led the cow out to graze in the big swamp. All day she would sit on the edge of the swamp, her hands in her lap; and on the way home she would say: "You see, R dlinna, if there had been large, rich fields here, in place of these barren swamps, then there would have been no need for them to leave." She could become furious with the swamp which spread out so big, and did no good. She could sit and talk about how it was the swamp's fault that the children had left her. This last evening she had been more trembly and feeble than ever before. She could not even do the milking. She had leaned against the manger and talked about two strangers who had been to see her, and had asked if they might buy the swamp. They wanted to drain it, and sow and raise grain on it. This had made her both anxious and glad. "Do you hear, R dlinna," she had said, "do you hear they said that grain can grow on the swamp? Now I shall write to the children to come home. Now they'll not have to stay away any longer; for now they can get their bread here at home." It was this that she had gone into the cabin to do-- The boy heard no more of what the old cow said. He had opened the cowhouse door and gone across the yard, and in to the dead whom he had but lately been so afraid of. It was not so poor in the cabin as he had expected. It was well supplied with the sort of things one generally finds among those who have relatives in America. In a corner there was an American rocking chair; on the table before the window lay a brocaded plush cover; there was a pretty spread on the bed; on the walls, in carved-wood frames, hung the photographs of the children and grandchildren who had gone away; on the bureau stood high vases and a couple of candlesticks, with thick, spiral candles in them. The boy searched for a matchbox and lighted these candles, not because he needed more light than he already had; but because he thought that this was one way to honour the dead. Then he went up to her, closed her eyes, folded her hands across her breast, and stroked back the thin gray hair from her face. He thought no more about being afraid of her. He was so deeply grieved because she had been forced to live out her old age in loneliness and longing. He, at least, would watch over her dead body this night. He hunted up the psalm book, and seated himself to read a couple of psalms in an undertone. But in the middle of the reading he paused--because he had begun to think about his mother and father. Think, that parents can long so for their children! This he had never known. Think, that life can be as though it was over for them when the children are away! Think, if those at home longed for him in the same way that this old peasant woman had longed! This thought made him happy, but he dared not believe in it. He had not been such a one that anybody could long for him. But what he had not been, perhaps he could become. Round about him he saw the portraits of those who were away. They were big, strong men and women with earnest faces. There were brides in long veils, and gentlemen in fine clothes; and there were children with waved hair and pretty white dresses. And he thought that they all stared blindly into vacancy--and did not want to see. "Poor you!" said the boy to the portraits. "Your mother is dead. You cannot make reparation now, because you went away from her. But my mother is living!" Here he paused, and nodded and smiled to himself. "My mother is living," said he. "Both father and mother are living." FROM TABERG TO HUSKVARNA _Friday, April fifteenth_. The boy sat awake nearly all night, but toward morning he fell asleep and then he dreamed of his father and mother. He could hardly recognise them. They had both grown gray, and had old and wrinkled faces. He asked how this had come about, and they answered that they had aged so because they had longed for him. He was both touched and astonished, for he had never believed but what they were glad to be rid of him. When the boy awoke the morning was come, with fine, clear weather. First, he himself ate a bit of bread which he found in the cabin; then he gave morning feed to both geese and cow, and opened the cowhouse door so that the cow could go over to the nearest farm. When the cow came along all by herself the neighbours would no doubt understand that something was wrong with her mistress. They would hurry over to the desolate farm to see how the old woman was getting along, and then they would find her dead body and bury it. The boy and the geese had barely raised themselves into the air, when they caught a glimpse of a high mountain, with almost perpendicular walls, and an abrupt, broken-off top; and they understood that this must be Taberg. On the summit stood Akka, with Yksi and Kaksi, Kolmi and Nelj , Viisi and Knusi, and all six goslings and waited for them. There was a rejoicing, and a cackling, and a fluttering, and a calling which no one can describe, when they saw that the goosey-gander and Dunfin had succeeded in finding Thumbietot. The woods grew pretty high up on Taberg's sides, but her highest peak was barren; and from there one could look out in all directions. If one gazed toward the east, or south, or west, then there was hardly anything to be seen but a poor highland with dark spruce-trees, brown morasses, ice-clad lakes, and bluish mountain-ridges. The boy couldn't keep from thinking it was true that the one who had created this hadn't taken very great pains with his work, but had thrown it together in a hurry. But if one glanced to the north, it was altogether different. Here it looked as if it had been worked out with the utmost care and affection. In this direction one saw only beautiful mountains, soft valleys, and winding rivers, all the way to the big Lake Vettern, which lay ice-free and transparently clear, and shone as if it wasn't filled with water but with blue light. It was Vettern that made it so pretty to look toward the north, because it looked as though a blue stream had risen up from the lake, and spread itself over land also. Groves and hills and roofs, and the spires of J nk ping City--which shimmered along Vettern's shores--lay enveloped in pale blue which caressed the eye. If there were countries in heaven, they, too, must be blue like this, thought the boy, and imagined that he had gotten a faint idea of how it must look in Paradise. Later in the day, when the geese continued their journey, they flew up toward the blue valley. They were in holiday humour; shrieked and made such a racket that no one who had ears could help hearing them. This happened to be the first really fine spring day they had had in this section. Until now, the spring had done its work under rain and bluster; and now, when it had all of a sudden become fine weather, the people were filled with such a longing after summer warmth and green woods that they could hardly perform their tasks. And when the wild geese rode by, high above the ground, cheerful and free, there wasn't one who did not drop what he had in hand, and glance at them. The first ones who saw the wild geese that day were miners on Taberg, who were digging ore at the mouth of the mine. When they heard them cackle, they paused in their drilling for ore, and one of them called to the birds: "Where are you going? Where are you going?" The geese didn't understand what he said, but the boy leaned forward over the goose-back, and answered for them: "Where there is neither pick nor hammer." When the miners heard the words, they thought it was their own longing that made the goose-cackle sound like human speech. "Take us along with you! Take us along with you!" they cried. "Not this year," shrieked the boy. "Not this year." The wild geese followed Taberg River down toward Monk Lake, and all the while they made the same racket. Here, on the narrow land-strip between Monk and Vettern lakes, lay J nk ping with its great factories. The wild geese rode first over Monksj paper mills. The noon rest hour was just over, and the big workmen were streaming down to the mill-gate. When they heard the wild geese, they stopped a moment to listen to them. "Where are you going? Where are you going?" called the workmen. The wild geese understood nothing of what they said, but the boy answered for them: "There, where there are neither machines nor steam-boxes." When the workmen heard the answer, they believed it was their own longing that made the goose-cackle sound like human speech. "Take us along with you!" "Not this year," answered the boy. "Not this year." Next, the geese rode over the well-known match factory, which lies on the shores of Vettern--large as a fortress--and lifts its high chimneys toward the sky. Not a soul moved out in the yards; but in a large hall young working-women sat and filled match-boxes. They had opened a window on account of the beautiful weather, and through it came the wild geese's call. The one who sat nearest the window, leaned out with a match-box in her hand, and cried: "Where are you going? Where are you going?" "To that land where there is no need of either light or matches," said the boy. The girl thought that what she had heard was only goose-cackle; but since she thought she had distinguished a couple of words, she called out in answer: "Take me along with you!" "Not this year," replied the boy. "Not this year." East of the factories rises J nk ping, on the most glorious spot that any city can occupy. The narrow Vettern has high, steep sand-shores, both on the eastern and western sides; but straight south, the sand-walls are broken down, just as if to make room for a large gate, through which one reaches the lake. And in the middle of the gate--with mountains to the left, and mountains to the right, with Monk Lake behind it, and Vettern in front of it--lies J nk ping. The wild geese travelled forward over the long, narrow city, and behaved themselves here just as they had done in the country. But in the city there was no one who answered them. It was not to be expected that city folks should stop out in the streets, and call to the wild geese. The trip extended further along Vettern's shores; and after a little they came to Sanna Sanitarium. Some of the patients had gone out on the veranda to enjoy the spring air, and in this way they heard the goose-cackle. "Where are you going?" asked one of them with such a feeble voice that he was scarcely heard. "To that land where there is neither sorrow nor sickness," answered the boy. "Take us along with you!" said the sick ones. "Not this year," answered the boy. "Not this year." When they had travelled still farther on, they came to Huskvarna. It lay in a valley. The mountains around it were steep and beautifully formed. A river rushed along the heights in long and narrow falls. Big workshops and factories lay below the mountain walls; and scattered over the valley-bottom were the workingmens' homes, encircled by little gardens; and in the centre of the valley lay the schoolhouse. Just as the wild geese came along, a bell rang, and a crowd of school children marched out in line. They were so numerous that the whole schoolyard was filled with them. "Where are you going? Where are you going?" the children shouted when they heard the wild geese. "Where there are neither books nor lessons to be found," answered the boy. "Take us along!" shrieked the children. "Not this year, but next," cried the boy. "Not this year, but next." THE BIG BIRD LAKE JARRO, THE WILD DUCK On the eastern shore of Vettern lies Mount Omberg; east of Omberg lies Dagmosse; east of Dagmosse lies Lake Takern. Around the whole of Takern spreads the big, even sterg ta plain. Takern is a pretty large lake and in olden times it must have been still larger. But then the people thought it covered entirely too much of the fertile plain, so they attempted to drain the water from it, that they might sow and reap on the lake-bottom. But they did not succeed in laying waste the entire lake--which had evidently been their intention--therefore it still hides a lot of land. Since the draining the lake has become so shallow that hardly at any point is it more than a couple of metres deep. The shores have become marshy and muddy; and out in the lake, little mud-islets stick up above the water's surface. Now, there is one who loves to stand with his feet in the water, if he can just keep his body and head in the air, and that is the reed. And it cannot find a better place to grow upon, than the long, shallow Takern shores, and around the little mud-islets. It thrives so well that it grows taller than a man's height, and so thick that it is almost impossible to push a boat through it. It forms a broad green enclosure around the whole lake, so that it is only accessible in a few places where the people have taken away the reeds. But if the reeds shut the people out, they give, in return, shelter and protection to many other things. In the reeds there are a lot of little dams and canals with green, still water, where duckweed and pondweed run to seed; and where gnat-eggs and blackfish and worms are hatched out in uncountable masses. And all along the shores of these little dams and canals, there are many well-concealed places, where seabirds hatch their eggs, and bring up their young without being disturbed, either by enemies or food worries. An incredible number of birds live in the Takern reeds; and more and more gather there every year, as it becomes known what a splendid abode it is. The first who settled there were the wild ducks; and they still live there by thousands. But they no longer own the entire lake, for they have been obliged to share it with swans, grebes, coots, loons, fen-ducks, and a lot of others. Takern is certainly the largest and choicest bird lake in the whole country; and the birds may count themselves lucky as long as they own such a retreat. But it is uncertain just how long they will be in control of reeds and mud-banks, for human beings cannot forget that the lake extends over a considerable portion of good and fertile soil; and every now and then the proposition to drain it comes up among them. And if these propositions were carried out, the many thousands of water-birds would be forced to move from this quarter. At the time when Nils Holgersson travelled around with the wild geese, there lived at Takern a wild duck named Jarro. He was a young bird, who had only lived one summer, one fall, and a winter; now, it was his first spring. He had just returned from South Africa, and had reached Takern in such good season that the ice was still on the lake. One evening, when he and the other young wild ducks played at racing backward and forward over the lake, a hunter fired a couple of shots at them, and Jarro was wounded in the breast. He thought he should die; but in order that the one who had shot him shouldn't get him into his power, he continued to fly as long as he possibly could. He didn't think whither he was directing his course, but only struggled to get far away. When his strength failed him, so that he could not fly any farther, he was no longer on the lake. He had flown a bit inland, and now he sank down before the entrance to one of the big farms which lie along the shores of Takern. A moment later a young farm-hand happened along. He saw Jarro,

afraid

How many times the word 'afraid' appears in the text?

Akka had commanded the wild geese to start out--two and two--in different directions, to search for him. But after a two days' hunt, whether or not they had found him, they were to meet in northwestern Sm land on a high mountain-top, which resembled an abrupt, chopped-off tower, and was called Taberg. After Akka had given them the best directions, and described carefully how they should find Taberg, they had separated. The white goosey-gander had chosen Dunfin as travelling companion, and they had flown about hither and thither with the greatest anxiety for Thumbietot. During this ramble they had heard a thrush, who sat in a tree-top, cry and wail that someone, who called himself Kidnapped-by-Crows, had made fun of him. They had talked with the thrush, and he had shown them in which direction that Kidnapped-by-Crows had travelled. Afterward, they had met a dove-cock, a starling and a drake; they had all wailed about a little culprit who had disturbed their song, and who was named Caught-by-Crows, Captured-by-Crows, and Stolen-by-Crows. In this way, they were enabled to trace Thumbietot all the way to the heather-heath in Sonnerbo township. As soon as the goosey-gander and Dunfin had found Thumbietot, they had started toward the north, in order to reach Taberg. But it had been a long road to travel, and the darkness was upon them before they had sighted the mountain top. "If we only get there by to-morrow, surely all our troubles will be over," thought the boy, and dug down into the straw to have it warmer. All the while the cow fussed and fumed in the stall. Then, all of a sudden, she began to talk to the boy. "Everything is wrong with me," said the cow. "I am neither milked nor tended. I have no night fodder in my manger, and no bed has been made under me. My mistress came here at dusk, to put things in order for me, but she felt so ill, that she had to go in soon again, and she has not returned." "It's distressing that I should be little and powerless," said the boy. "I don't believe that I am able to help you." "You can't make me believe that you are powerless because you are little," said the cow. "All the elves that I've ever heard of, were so strong that they could pull a whole load of hay and strike a cow dead with one fist." The boy couldn't help laughing at the cow. "They were a very different kind of elf from me," said he. "But I'll loosen your halter and open the door for you, so that you can go out and drink in one of the pools on the place, and then I'll try to climb up to the hayloft and throw down some hay in your manger." "Yes, that would be some help," said the cow. The boy did as he had said; and when the cow stood with a full manger in front of her, he thought that at last he should get some sleep. But he had hardly crept down in the bed before she began, anew, to talk to him. "You'll be clean put out with me if I ask you for one thing more," said the cow. "Oh, no I won't, if it's only something that I'm able to do," said the boy. "Then I will ask you to go into the cabin, directly opposite, and find out how my mistress is getting along. I fear some misfortune has come to her." "No! I can't do that," said the boy. "I dare not show myself before human beings." "'Surely you're not afraid of an old and sick woman," said the cow. "But you do not need to go into the cabin. Just stand outside the door and peep in through the crack!" "Oh! if that is all you ask of me, I'll do it of course," said the boy. With that he opened the cowshed door and went out in the yard. It was a fearful night! Neither moon nor stars shone; the wind blew a gale, and the rain came down in torrents. And the worst of all was that seven great owls sat in a row on the eaves of the cabin. It was awful just to hear them, where they sat and grumbled at the weather; but it was even worse to think what would happen to him if one of them should set eyes on him. That would be the last of him. "Pity him who is little!" said the boy as he ventured out in the yard. And he had a right to say this, for he was blown down twice before he got to the house: once the wind swept him into a pool, which was so deep that he came near drowning. But he got there nevertheless. He clambered up a pair of steps, scrambled over a threshold, and came into the hallway. The cabin door was closed, but down in one corner a large piece had been cut away, that the cat might go in and out. It was no difficulty whatever for the boy to see how things were in the cabin. He had hardly cast a glance in there before he staggered back and turned his head away. An old, gray-haired woman lay stretched out on the floor within. She neither moved nor moaned; and her face shone strangely white. It was as if an invisible moon had thrown a feeble light over it. The boy remembered that when his grandfather had died, his face had also become so strangely white-like. And he understood that the old woman who lay on the cabin floor must be dead. Death had probably come to her so suddenly that she didn't even have time to lie down on her bed. As he thought of being alone with the dead in the middle of the dark night, he was terribly afraid. He threw himself headlong down the steps, and rushed back to the cowshed. When he told the cow what he had seen in the cabin, she stopped eating. "So my mistress is dead," said she. "Then it will soon be over for me as well." "There will always be someone to look out for you," said the boy comfortingly. "Ah! you don't know," said the cow, "that I am already twice as old as a cow usually is before she is laid upon the slaughter-bench. But then I do not care to live any longer, since she, in there, can come no more to care for me." She said nothing more for a while, but the boy observed, no doubt, that she neither slept nor ate. It was not long before she began to speak again. "Is she lying on the bare floor?" she asked. "She is," said the boy. "She had a habit of coming out to the cowshed," she continued, "and talking about everything that troubled her. I understood what she said, although I could not answer her. These last few days she talked of how afraid she was lest there would be no one with her when she died. She was anxious for fear no one should close her eyes and fold her hands across her breast, after she was dead. Perhaps you'll go in and do this?" The boy hesitated. He remembered that when his grandfather had died, mother had been very careful about putting everything to rights. He knew this was something which had to be done. But, on the other hand, he felt that he didn't care go to the dead, in the ghastly night. He didn't say no; neither did he take a step toward the cowshed door. For a couple of seconds the old cow was silent--just as if she had expected an answer. But when the boy said nothing, she did not repeat her request. Instead, she began to talk with him of her mistress. There was much to tell, first and foremost, about all the children which she had brought up. They had been in the cowshed every day, and in the summer they had taken the cattle to pasture on the swamp and in the groves, so the old cow knew all about them. They had been splendid, all of them, and happy and industrious. A cow knew well enough what her caretakers were good for. There was also much to be said about the farm. It had not always been as poor as it was now. It was very large--although the greater part of it consisted of swamps and stony groves. There was not much room for fields, but there was plenty of good fodder everywhere. At one time there had been a cow for every stall in the cowshed; and the oxshed, which was now empty, had at one time been filled with oxen. And then there was life and gayety, both in cabin and cowhouse. When the mistress opened the cowshed door she would hum and sing, and all the cows lowed with gladness when they heard her coming. But the good man had died when the children were so small that they could not be of any assistance, and the mistress had to take charge of the farm, and all the work and responsibility. She had been as strong as a man, and had both ploughed and reaped. In the evenings, when she came into the cowshed to milk, sometimes she was so tired that she wept. Then she dashed away her tears, and was cheerful again. "It doesn't matter. Good times are coming again for me too, if only my children grow up. Yes, if they only grow up." But as soon as the children were grown, a strange longing came over them. They didn't want to stay at home, but went away to a strange country. Their mother never got any help from them. A couple of her children were married before they went away, and they had left their children behind, in the old home. And now these children followed the mistress in the cowshed, just as her own had done. They tended the cows, and were fine, good folk. And, in the evenings, when the mistress was so tired out that she could fall asleep in the middle of the milking, she would rouse herself again to renewed courage by thinking of them. "Good times are coming for me, too," said she--and shook off sleep--"when once they are grown." But when these children grew up, they went away to their parents in the strange land. No one came back--no one stayed at home--the old mistress was left alone on the farm. Probably she had never asked them to remain with her. "Think you, R dlinna, that I would ask them to stay here with me, when they can go out in the world and have things comfortable?" she would say as she stood in the stall with the old cow. "Here in Sm land they have only poverty to look forward to." But when the last grandchild was gone, it was all up with the mistress. All at once she became bent and gray, and tottered as she walked; as if she no longer had the strength to move about. She stopped working. She did not care to look after the farm, but let everything go to rack and ruin. She didn't repair the houses; and she sold both the cows and the oxen. The only one that she kept was the old cow who now talked with Thumbietot. Her she let live because all the children had tended her. She could have taken maids and farm-hands into her service, who would have helped her with the work, but she couldn't bear to see strangers around her, since her own had deserted her. Perhaps she was better satisfied to let the farm go to ruin, since none of her children were coming back to take it after she was gone. She did not mind that she herself became poor, because she didn't value that which was only hers. But she was troubled lest the children should find out how hard she had it. "If only the children do not hear of this! If only the children do not hear of this!" she sighed as she tottered through the cowhouse. The children wrote constantly, and begged her to come out to them; but this she did not wish. She didn't want to see the land that had taken them from her. She was angry with it. "It's foolish of me, perhaps, that I do not like that land which has been so good for them," said she. "But I don't want to see it." She never thought of anything but the children, and of this--that they must needs have gone. When summer came, she led the cow out to graze in the big swamp. All day she would sit on the edge of the swamp, her hands in her lap; and on the way home she would say: "You see, R dlinna, if there had been large, rich fields here, in place of these barren swamps, then there would have been no need for them to leave." She could become furious with the swamp which spread out so big, and did no good. She could sit and talk about how it was the swamp's fault that the children had left her. This last evening she had been more trembly and feeble than ever before. She could not even do the milking. She had leaned against the manger and talked about two strangers who had been to see her, and had asked if they might buy the swamp. They wanted to drain it, and sow and raise grain on it. This had made her both anxious and glad. "Do you hear, R dlinna," she had said, "do you hear they said that grain can grow on the swamp? Now I shall write to the children to come home. Now they'll not have to stay away any longer; for now they can get their bread here at home." It was this that she had gone into the cabin to do-- The boy heard no more of what the old cow said. He had opened the cowhouse door and gone across the yard, and in to the dead whom he had but lately been so afraid of. It was not so poor in the cabin as he had expected. It was well supplied with the sort of things one generally finds among those who have relatives in America. In a corner there was an American rocking chair; on the table before the window lay a brocaded plush cover; there was a pretty spread on the bed; on the walls, in carved-wood frames, hung the photographs of the children and grandchildren who had gone away; on the bureau stood high vases and a couple of candlesticks, with thick, spiral candles in them. The boy searched for a matchbox and lighted these candles, not because he needed more light than he already had; but because he thought that this was one way to honour the dead. Then he went up to her, closed her eyes, folded her hands across her breast, and stroked back the thin gray hair from her face. He thought no more about being afraid of her. He was so deeply grieved because she had been forced to live out her old age in loneliness and longing. He, at least, would watch over her dead body this night. He hunted up the psalm book, and seated himself to read a couple of psalms in an undertone. But in the middle of the reading he paused--because he had begun to think about his mother and father. Think, that parents can long so for their children! This he had never known. Think, that life can be as though it was over for them when the children are away! Think, if those at home longed for him in the same way that this old peasant woman had longed! This thought made him happy, but he dared not believe in it. He had not been such a one that anybody could long for him. But what he had not been, perhaps he could become. Round about him he saw the portraits of those who were away. They were big, strong men and women with earnest faces. There were brides in long veils, and gentlemen in fine clothes; and there were children with waved hair and pretty white dresses. And he thought that they all stared blindly into vacancy--and did not want to see. "Poor you!" said the boy to the portraits. "Your mother is dead. You cannot make reparation now, because you went away from her. But my mother is living!" Here he paused, and nodded and smiled to himself. "My mother is living," said he. "Both father and mother are living." FROM TABERG TO HUSKVARNA _Friday, April fifteenth_. The boy sat awake nearly all night, but toward morning he fell asleep and then he dreamed of his father and mother. He could hardly recognise them. They had both grown gray, and had old and wrinkled faces. He asked how this had come about, and they answered that they had aged so because they had longed for him. He was both touched and astonished, for he had never believed but what they were glad to be rid of him. When the boy awoke the morning was come, with fine, clear weather. First, he himself ate a bit of bread which he found in the cabin; then he gave morning feed to both geese and cow, and opened the cowhouse door so that the cow could go over to the nearest farm. When the cow came along all by herself the neighbours would no doubt understand that something was wrong with her mistress. They would hurry over to the desolate farm to see how the old woman was getting along, and then they would find her dead body and bury it. The boy and the geese had barely raised themselves into the air, when they caught a glimpse of a high mountain, with almost perpendicular walls, and an abrupt, broken-off top; and they understood that this must be Taberg. On the summit stood Akka, with Yksi and Kaksi, Kolmi and Nelj , Viisi and Knusi, and all six goslings and waited for them. There was a rejoicing, and a cackling, and a fluttering, and a calling which no one can describe, when they saw that the goosey-gander and Dunfin had succeeded in finding Thumbietot. The woods grew pretty high up on Taberg's sides, but her highest peak was barren; and from there one could look out in all directions. If one gazed toward the east, or south, or west, then there was hardly anything to be seen but a poor highland with dark spruce-trees, brown morasses, ice-clad lakes, and bluish mountain-ridges. The boy couldn't keep from thinking it was true that the one who had created this hadn't taken very great pains with his work, but had thrown it together in a hurry. But if one glanced to the north, it was altogether different. Here it looked as if it had been worked out with the utmost care and affection. In this direction one saw only beautiful mountains, soft valleys, and winding rivers, all the way to the big Lake Vettern, which lay ice-free and transparently clear, and shone as if it wasn't filled with water but with blue light. It was Vettern that made it so pretty to look toward the north, because it looked as though a blue stream had risen up from the lake, and spread itself over land also. Groves and hills and roofs, and the spires of J nk ping City--which shimmered along Vettern's shores--lay enveloped in pale blue which caressed the eye. If there were countries in heaven, they, too, must be blue like this, thought the boy, and imagined that he had gotten a faint idea of how it must look in Paradise. Later in the day, when the geese continued their journey, they flew up toward the blue valley. They were in holiday humour; shrieked and made such a racket that no one who had ears could help hearing them. This happened to be the first really fine spring day they had had in this section. Until now, the spring had done its work under rain and bluster; and now, when it had all of a sudden become fine weather, the people were filled with such a longing after summer warmth and green woods that they could hardly perform their tasks. And when the wild geese rode by, high above the ground, cheerful and free, there wasn't one who did not drop what he had in hand, and glance at them. The first ones who saw the wild geese that day were miners on Taberg, who were digging ore at the mouth of the mine. When they heard them cackle, they paused in their drilling for ore, and one of them called to the birds: "Where are you going? Where are you going?" The geese didn't understand what he said, but the boy leaned forward over the goose-back, and answered for them: "Where there is neither pick nor hammer." When the miners heard the words, they thought it was their own longing that made the goose-cackle sound like human speech. "Take us along with you! Take us along with you!" they cried. "Not this year," shrieked the boy. "Not this year." The wild geese followed Taberg River down toward Monk Lake, and all the while they made the same racket. Here, on the narrow land-strip between Monk and Vettern lakes, lay J nk ping with its great factories. The wild geese rode first over Monksj paper mills. The noon rest hour was just over, and the big workmen were streaming down to the mill-gate. When they heard the wild geese, they stopped a moment to listen to them. "Where are you going? Where are you going?" called the workmen. The wild geese understood nothing of what they said, but the boy answered for them: "There, where there are neither machines nor steam-boxes." When the workmen heard the answer, they believed it was their own longing that made the goose-cackle sound like human speech. "Take us along with you!" "Not this year," answered the boy. "Not this year." Next, the geese rode over the well-known match factory, which lies on the shores of Vettern--large as a fortress--and lifts its high chimneys toward the sky. Not a soul moved out in the yards; but in a large hall young working-women sat and filled match-boxes. They had opened a window on account of the beautiful weather, and through it came the wild geese's call. The one who sat nearest the window, leaned out with a match-box in her hand, and cried: "Where are you going? Where are you going?" "To that land where there is no need of either light or matches," said the boy. The girl thought that what she had heard was only goose-cackle; but since she thought she had distinguished a couple of words, she called out in answer: "Take me along with you!" "Not this year," replied the boy. "Not this year." East of the factories rises J nk ping, on the most glorious spot that any city can occupy. The narrow Vettern has high, steep sand-shores, both on the eastern and western sides; but straight south, the sand-walls are broken down, just as if to make room for a large gate, through which one reaches the lake. And in the middle of the gate--with mountains to the left, and mountains to the right, with Monk Lake behind it, and Vettern in front of it--lies J nk ping. The wild geese travelled forward over the long, narrow city, and behaved themselves here just as they had done in the country. But in the city there was no one who answered them. It was not to be expected that city folks should stop out in the streets, and call to the wild geese. The trip extended further along Vettern's shores; and after a little they came to Sanna Sanitarium. Some of the patients had gone out on the veranda to enjoy the spring air, and in this way they heard the goose-cackle. "Where are you going?" asked one of them with such a feeble voice that he was scarcely heard. "To that land where there is neither sorrow nor sickness," answered the boy. "Take us along with you!" said the sick ones. "Not this year," answered the boy. "Not this year." When they had travelled still farther on, they came to Huskvarna. It lay in a valley. The mountains around it were steep and beautifully formed. A river rushed along the heights in long and narrow falls. Big workshops and factories lay below the mountain walls; and scattered over the valley-bottom were the workingmens' homes, encircled by little gardens; and in the centre of the valley lay the schoolhouse. Just as the wild geese came along, a bell rang, and a crowd of school children marched out in line. They were so numerous that the whole schoolyard was filled with them. "Where are you going? Where are you going?" the children shouted when they heard the wild geese. "Where there are neither books nor lessons to be found," answered the boy. "Take us along!" shrieked the children. "Not this year, but next," cried the boy. "Not this year, but next." THE BIG BIRD LAKE JARRO, THE WILD DUCK On the eastern shore of Vettern lies Mount Omberg; east of Omberg lies Dagmosse; east of Dagmosse lies Lake Takern. Around the whole of Takern spreads the big, even sterg ta plain. Takern is a pretty large lake and in olden times it must have been still larger. But then the people thought it covered entirely too much of the fertile plain, so they attempted to drain the water from it, that they might sow and reap on the lake-bottom. But they did not succeed in laying waste the entire lake--which had evidently been their intention--therefore it still hides a lot of land. Since the draining the lake has become so shallow that hardly at any point is it more than a couple of metres deep. The shores have become marshy and muddy; and out in the lake, little mud-islets stick up above the water's surface. Now, there is one who loves to stand with his feet in the water, if he can just keep his body and head in the air, and that is the reed. And it cannot find a better place to grow upon, than the long, shallow Takern shores, and around the little mud-islets. It thrives so well that it grows taller than a man's height, and so thick that it is almost impossible to push a boat through it. It forms a broad green enclosure around the whole lake, so that it is only accessible in a few places where the people have taken away the reeds. But if the reeds shut the people out, they give, in return, shelter and protection to many other things. In the reeds there are a lot of little dams and canals with green, still water, where duckweed and pondweed run to seed; and where gnat-eggs and blackfish and worms are hatched out in uncountable masses. And all along the shores of these little dams and canals, there are many well-concealed places, where seabirds hatch their eggs, and bring up their young without being disturbed, either by enemies or food worries. An incredible number of birds live in the Takern reeds; and more and more gather there every year, as it becomes known what a splendid abode it is. The first who settled there were the wild ducks; and they still live there by thousands. But they no longer own the entire lake, for they have been obliged to share it with swans, grebes, coots, loons, fen-ducks, and a lot of others. Takern is certainly the largest and choicest bird lake in the whole country; and the birds may count themselves lucky as long as they own such a retreat. But it is uncertain just how long they will be in control of reeds and mud-banks, for human beings cannot forget that the lake extends over a considerable portion of good and fertile soil; and every now and then the proposition to drain it comes up among them. And if these propositions were carried out, the many thousands of water-birds would be forced to move from this quarter. At the time when Nils Holgersson travelled around with the wild geese, there lived at Takern a wild duck named Jarro. He was a young bird, who had only lived one summer, one fall, and a winter; now, it was his first spring. He had just returned from South Africa, and had reached Takern in such good season that the ice was still on the lake. One evening, when he and the other young wild ducks played at racing backward and forward over the lake, a hunter fired a couple of shots at them, and Jarro was wounded in the breast. He thought he should die; but in order that the one who had shot him shouldn't get him into his power, he continued to fly as long as he possibly could. He didn't think whither he was directing his course, but only struggled to get far away. When his strength failed him, so that he could not fly any farther, he was no longer on the lake. He had flown a bit inland, and now he sank down before the entrance to one of the big farms which lie along the shores of Takern. A moment later a young farm-hand happened along. He saw Jarro,

after

How many times the word 'after' appears in the text?

Akka had commanded the wild geese to start out--two and two--in different directions, to search for him. But after a two days' hunt, whether or not they had found him, they were to meet in northwestern Sm land on a high mountain-top, which resembled an abrupt, chopped-off tower, and was called Taberg. After Akka had given them the best directions, and described carefully how they should find Taberg, they had separated. The white goosey-gander had chosen Dunfin as travelling companion, and they had flown about hither and thither with the greatest anxiety for Thumbietot. During this ramble they had heard a thrush, who sat in a tree-top, cry and wail that someone, who called himself Kidnapped-by-Crows, had made fun of him. They had talked with the thrush, and he had shown them in which direction that Kidnapped-by-Crows had travelled. Afterward, they had met a dove-cock, a starling and a drake; they had all wailed about a little culprit who had disturbed their song, and who was named Caught-by-Crows, Captured-by-Crows, and Stolen-by-Crows. In this way, they were enabled to trace Thumbietot all the way to the heather-heath in Sonnerbo township. As soon as the goosey-gander and Dunfin had found Thumbietot, they had started toward the north, in order to reach Taberg. But it had been a long road to travel, and the darkness was upon them before they had sighted the mountain top. "If we only get there by to-morrow, surely all our troubles will be over," thought the boy, and dug down into the straw to have it warmer. All the while the cow fussed and fumed in the stall. Then, all of a sudden, she began to talk to the boy. "Everything is wrong with me," said the cow. "I am neither milked nor tended. I have no night fodder in my manger, and no bed has been made under me. My mistress came here at dusk, to put things in order for me, but she felt so ill, that she had to go in soon again, and she has not returned." "It's distressing that I should be little and powerless," said the boy. "I don't believe that I am able to help you." "You can't make me believe that you are powerless because you are little," said the cow. "All the elves that I've ever heard of, were so strong that they could pull a whole load of hay and strike a cow dead with one fist." The boy couldn't help laughing at the cow. "They were a very different kind of elf from me," said he. "But I'll loosen your halter and open the door for you, so that you can go out and drink in one of the pools on the place, and then I'll try to climb up to the hayloft and throw down some hay in your manger." "Yes, that would be some help," said the cow. The boy did as he had said; and when the cow stood with a full manger in front of her, he thought that at last he should get some sleep. But he had hardly crept down in the bed before she began, anew, to talk to him. "You'll be clean put out with me if I ask you for one thing more," said the cow. "Oh, no I won't, if it's only something that I'm able to do," said the boy. "Then I will ask you to go into the cabin, directly opposite, and find out how my mistress is getting along. I fear some misfortune has come to her." "No! I can't do that," said the boy. "I dare not show myself before human beings." "'Surely you're not afraid of an old and sick woman," said the cow. "But you do not need to go into the cabin. Just stand outside the door and peep in through the crack!" "Oh! if that is all you ask of me, I'll do it of course," said the boy. With that he opened the cowshed door and went out in the yard. It was a fearful night! Neither moon nor stars shone; the wind blew a gale, and the rain came down in torrents. And the worst of all was that seven great owls sat in a row on the eaves of the cabin. It was awful just to hear them, where they sat and grumbled at the weather; but it was even worse to think what would happen to him if one of them should set eyes on him. That would be the last of him. "Pity him who is little!" said the boy as he ventured out in the yard. And he had a right to say this, for he was blown down twice before he got to the house: once the wind swept him into a pool, which was so deep that he came near drowning. But he got there nevertheless. He clambered up a pair of steps, scrambled over a threshold, and came into the hallway. The cabin door was closed, but down in one corner a large piece had been cut away, that the cat might go in and out. It was no difficulty whatever for the boy to see how things were in the cabin. He had hardly cast a glance in there before he staggered back and turned his head away. An old, gray-haired woman lay stretched out on the floor within. She neither moved nor moaned; and her face shone strangely white. It was as if an invisible moon had thrown a feeble light over it. The boy remembered that when his grandfather had died, his face had also become so strangely white-like. And he understood that the old woman who lay on the cabin floor must be dead. Death had probably come to her so suddenly that she didn't even have time to lie down on her bed. As he thought of being alone with the dead in the middle of the dark night, he was terribly afraid. He threw himself headlong down the steps, and rushed back to the cowshed. When he told the cow what he had seen in the cabin, she stopped eating. "So my mistress is dead," said she. "Then it will soon be over for me as well." "There will always be someone to look out for you," said the boy comfortingly. "Ah! you don't know," said the cow, "that I am already twice as old as a cow usually is before she is laid upon the slaughter-bench. But then I do not care to live any longer, since she, in there, can come no more to care for me." She said nothing more for a while, but the boy observed, no doubt, that she neither slept nor ate. It was not long before she began to speak again. "Is she lying on the bare floor?" she asked. "She is," said the boy. "She had a habit of coming out to the cowshed," she continued, "and talking about everything that troubled her. I understood what she said, although I could not answer her. These last few days she talked of how afraid she was lest there would be no one with her when she died. She was anxious for fear no one should close her eyes and fold her hands across her breast, after she was dead. Perhaps you'll go in and do this?" The boy hesitated. He remembered that when his grandfather had died, mother had been very careful about putting everything to rights. He knew this was something which had to be done. But, on the other hand, he felt that he didn't care go to the dead, in the ghastly night. He didn't say no; neither did he take a step toward the cowshed door. For a couple of seconds the old cow was silent--just as if she had expected an answer. But when the boy said nothing, she did not repeat her request. Instead, she began to talk with him of her mistress. There was much to tell, first and foremost, about all the children which she had brought up. They had been in the cowshed every day, and in the summer they had taken the cattle to pasture on the swamp and in the groves, so the old cow knew all about them. They had been splendid, all of them, and happy and industrious. A cow knew well enough what her caretakers were good for. There was also much to be said about the farm. It had not always been as poor as it was now. It was very large--although the greater part of it consisted of swamps and stony groves. There was not much room for fields, but there was plenty of good fodder everywhere. At one time there had been a cow for every stall in the cowshed; and the oxshed, which was now empty, had at one time been filled with oxen. And then there was life and gayety, both in cabin and cowhouse. When the mistress opened the cowshed door she would hum and sing, and all the cows lowed with gladness when they heard her coming. But the good man had died when the children were so small that they could not be of any assistance, and the mistress had to take charge of the farm, and all the work and responsibility. She had been as strong as a man, and had both ploughed and reaped. In the evenings, when she came into the cowshed to milk, sometimes she was so tired that she wept. Then she dashed away her tears, and was cheerful again. "It doesn't matter. Good times are coming again for me too, if only my children grow up. Yes, if they only grow up." But as soon as the children were grown, a strange longing came over them. They didn't want to stay at home, but went away to a strange country. Their mother never got any help from them. A couple of her children were married before they went away, and they had left their children behind, in the old home. And now these children followed the mistress in the cowshed, just as her own had done. They tended the cows, and were fine, good folk. And, in the evenings, when the mistress was so tired out that she could fall asleep in the middle of the milking, she would rouse herself again to renewed courage by thinking of them. "Good times are coming for me, too," said she--and shook off sleep--"when once they are grown." But when these children grew up, they went away to their parents in the strange land. No one came back--no one stayed at home--the old mistress was left alone on the farm. Probably she had never asked them to remain with her. "Think you, R dlinna, that I would ask them to stay here with me, when they can go out in the world and have things comfortable?" she would say as she stood in the stall with the old cow. "Here in Sm land they have only poverty to look forward to." But when the last grandchild was gone, it was all up with the mistress. All at once she became bent and gray, and tottered as she walked; as if she no longer had the strength to move about. She stopped working. She did not care to look after the farm, but let everything go to rack and ruin. She didn't repair the houses; and she sold both the cows and the oxen. The only one that she kept was the old cow who now talked with Thumbietot. Her she let live because all the children had tended her. She could have taken maids and farm-hands into her service, who would have helped her with the work, but she couldn't bear to see strangers around her, since her own had deserted her. Perhaps she was better satisfied to let the farm go to ruin, since none of her children were coming back to take it after she was gone. She did not mind that she herself became poor, because she didn't value that which was only hers. But she was troubled lest the children should find out how hard she had it. "If only the children do not hear of this! If only the children do not hear of this!" she sighed as she tottered through the cowhouse. The children wrote constantly, and begged her to come out to them; but this she did not wish. She didn't want to see the land that had taken them from her. She was angry with it. "It's foolish of me, perhaps, that I do not like that land which has been so good for them," said she. "But I don't want to see it." She never thought of anything but the children, and of this--that they must needs have gone. When summer came, she led the cow out to graze in the big swamp. All day she would sit on the edge of the swamp, her hands in her lap; and on the way home she would say: "You see, R dlinna, if there had been large, rich fields here, in place of these barren swamps, then there would have been no need for them to leave." She could become furious with the swamp which spread out so big, and did no good. She could sit and talk about how it was the swamp's fault that the children had left her. This last evening she had been more trembly and feeble than ever before. She could not even do the milking. She had leaned against the manger and talked about two strangers who had been to see her, and had asked if they might buy the swamp. They wanted to drain it, and sow and raise grain on it. This had made her both anxious and glad. "Do you hear, R dlinna," she had said, "do you hear they said that grain can grow on the swamp? Now I shall write to the children to come home. Now they'll not have to stay away any longer; for now they can get their bread here at home." It was this that she had gone into the cabin to do-- The boy heard no more of what the old cow said. He had opened the cowhouse door and gone across the yard, and in to the dead whom he had but lately been so afraid of. It was not so poor in the cabin as he had expected. It was well supplied with the sort of things one generally finds among those who have relatives in America. In a corner there was an American rocking chair; on the table before the window lay a brocaded plush cover; there was a pretty spread on the bed; on the walls, in carved-wood frames, hung the photographs of the children and grandchildren who had gone away; on the bureau stood high vases and a couple of candlesticks, with thick, spiral candles in them. The boy searched for a matchbox and lighted these candles, not because he needed more light than he already had; but because he thought that this was one way to honour the dead. Then he went up to her, closed her eyes, folded her hands across her breast, and stroked back the thin gray hair from her face. He thought no more about being afraid of her. He was so deeply grieved because she had been forced to live out her old age in loneliness and longing. He, at least, would watch over her dead body this night. He hunted up the psalm book, and seated himself to read a couple of psalms in an undertone. But in the middle of the reading he paused--because he had begun to think about his mother and father. Think, that parents can long so for their children! This he had never known. Think, that life can be as though it was over for them when the children are away! Think, if those at home longed for him in the same way that this old peasant woman had longed! This thought made him happy, but he dared not believe in it. He had not been such a one that anybody could long for him. But what he had not been, perhaps he could become. Round about him he saw the portraits of those who were away. They were big, strong men and women with earnest faces. There were brides in long veils, and gentlemen in fine clothes; and there were children with waved hair and pretty white dresses. And he thought that they all stared blindly into vacancy--and did not want to see. "Poor you!" said the boy to the portraits. "Your mother is dead. You cannot make reparation now, because you went away from her. But my mother is living!" Here he paused, and nodded and smiled to himself. "My mother is living," said he. "Both father and mother are living." FROM TABERG TO HUSKVARNA _Friday, April fifteenth_. The boy sat awake nearly all night, but toward morning he fell asleep and then he dreamed of his father and mother. He could hardly recognise them. They had both grown gray, and had old and wrinkled faces. He asked how this had come about, and they answered that they had aged so because they had longed for him. He was both touched and astonished, for he had never believed but what they were glad to be rid of him. When the boy awoke the morning was come, with fine, clear weather. First, he himself ate a bit of bread which he found in the cabin; then he gave morning feed to both geese and cow, and opened the cowhouse door so that the cow could go over to the nearest farm. When the cow came along all by herself the neighbours would no doubt understand that something was wrong with her mistress. They would hurry over to the desolate farm to see how the old woman was getting along, and then they would find her dead body and bury it. The boy and the geese had barely raised themselves into the air, when they caught a glimpse of a high mountain, with almost perpendicular walls, and an abrupt, broken-off top; and they understood that this must be Taberg. On the summit stood Akka, with Yksi and Kaksi, Kolmi and Nelj , Viisi and Knusi, and all six goslings and waited for them. There was a rejoicing, and a cackling, and a fluttering, and a calling which no one can describe, when they saw that the goosey-gander and Dunfin had succeeded in finding Thumbietot. The woods grew pretty high up on Taberg's sides, but her highest peak was barren; and from there one could look out in all directions. If one gazed toward the east, or south, or west, then there was hardly anything to be seen but a poor highland with dark spruce-trees, brown morasses, ice-clad lakes, and bluish mountain-ridges. The boy couldn't keep from thinking it was true that the one who had created this hadn't taken very great pains with his work, but had thrown it together in a hurry. But if one glanced to the north, it was altogether different. Here it looked as if it had been worked out with the utmost care and affection. In this direction one saw only beautiful mountains, soft valleys, and winding rivers, all the way to the big Lake Vettern, which lay ice-free and transparently clear, and shone as if it wasn't filled with water but with blue light. It was Vettern that made it so pretty to look toward the north, because it looked as though a blue stream had risen up from the lake, and spread itself over land also. Groves and hills and roofs, and the spires of J nk ping City--which shimmered along Vettern's shores--lay enveloped in pale blue which caressed the eye. If there were countries in heaven, they, too, must be blue like this, thought the boy, and imagined that he had gotten a faint idea of how it must look in Paradise. Later in the day, when the geese continued their journey, they flew up toward the blue valley. They were in holiday humour; shrieked and made such a racket that no one who had ears could help hearing them. This happened to be the first really fine spring day they had had in this section. Until now, the spring had done its work under rain and bluster; and now, when it had all of a sudden become fine weather, the people were filled with such a longing after summer warmth and green woods that they could hardly perform their tasks. And when the wild geese rode by, high above the ground, cheerful and free, there wasn't one who did not drop what he had in hand, and glance at them. The first ones who saw the wild geese that day were miners on Taberg, who were digging ore at the mouth of the mine. When they heard them cackle, they paused in their drilling for ore, and one of them called to the birds: "Where are you going? Where are you going?" The geese didn't understand what he said, but the boy leaned forward over the goose-back, and answered for them: "Where there is neither pick nor hammer." When the miners heard the words, they thought it was their own longing that made the goose-cackle sound like human speech. "Take us along with you! Take us along with you!" they cried. "Not this year," shrieked the boy. "Not this year." The wild geese followed Taberg River down toward Monk Lake, and all the while they made the same racket. Here, on the narrow land-strip between Monk and Vettern lakes, lay J nk ping with its great factories. The wild geese rode first over Monksj paper mills. The noon rest hour was just over, and the big workmen were streaming down to the mill-gate. When they heard the wild geese, they stopped a moment to listen to them. "Where are you going? Where are you going?" called the workmen. The wild geese understood nothing of what they said, but the boy answered for them: "There, where there are neither machines nor steam-boxes." When the workmen heard the answer, they believed it was their own longing that made the goose-cackle sound like human speech. "Take us along with you!" "Not this year," answered the boy. "Not this year." Next, the geese rode over the well-known match factory, which lies on the shores of Vettern--large as a fortress--and lifts its high chimneys toward the sky. Not a soul moved out in the yards; but in a large hall young working-women sat and filled match-boxes. They had opened a window on account of the beautiful weather, and through it came the wild geese's call. The one who sat nearest the window, leaned out with a match-box in her hand, and cried: "Where are you going? Where are you going?" "To that land where there is no need of either light or matches," said the boy. The girl thought that what she had heard was only goose-cackle; but since she thought she had distinguished a couple of words, she called out in answer: "Take me along with you!" "Not this year," replied the boy. "Not this year." East of the factories rises J nk ping, on the most glorious spot that any city can occupy. The narrow Vettern has high, steep sand-shores, both on the eastern and western sides; but straight south, the sand-walls are broken down, just as if to make room for a large gate, through which one reaches the lake. And in the middle of the gate--with mountains to the left, and mountains to the right, with Monk Lake behind it, and Vettern in front of it--lies J nk ping. The wild geese travelled forward over the long, narrow city, and behaved themselves here just as they had done in the country. But in the city there was no one who answered them. It was not to be expected that city folks should stop out in the streets, and call to the wild geese. The trip extended further along Vettern's shores; and after a little they came to Sanna Sanitarium. Some of the patients had gone out on the veranda to enjoy the spring air, and in this way they heard the goose-cackle. "Where are you going?" asked one of them with such a feeble voice that he was scarcely heard. "To that land where there is neither sorrow nor sickness," answered the boy. "Take us along with you!" said the sick ones. "Not this year," answered the boy. "Not this year." When they had travelled still farther on, they came to Huskvarna. It lay in a valley. The mountains around it were steep and beautifully formed. A river rushed along the heights in long and narrow falls. Big workshops and factories lay below the mountain walls; and scattered over the valley-bottom were the workingmens' homes, encircled by little gardens; and in the centre of the valley lay the schoolhouse. Just as the wild geese came along, a bell rang, and a crowd of school children marched out in line. They were so numerous that the whole schoolyard was filled with them. "Where are you going? Where are you going?" the children shouted when they heard the wild geese. "Where there are neither books nor lessons to be found," answered the boy. "Take us along!" shrieked the children. "Not this year, but next," cried the boy. "Not this year, but next." THE BIG BIRD LAKE JARRO, THE WILD DUCK On the eastern shore of Vettern lies Mount Omberg; east of Omberg lies Dagmosse; east of Dagmosse lies Lake Takern. Around the whole of Takern spreads the big, even sterg ta plain. Takern is a pretty large lake and in olden times it must have been still larger. But then the people thought it covered entirely too much of the fertile plain, so they attempted to drain the water from it, that they might sow and reap on the lake-bottom. But they did not succeed in laying waste the entire lake--which had evidently been their intention--therefore it still hides a lot of land. Since the draining the lake has become so shallow that hardly at any point is it more than a couple of metres deep. The shores have become marshy and muddy; and out in the lake, little mud-islets stick up above the water's surface. Now, there is one who loves to stand with his feet in the water, if he can just keep his body and head in the air, and that is the reed. And it cannot find a better place to grow upon, than the long, shallow Takern shores, and around the little mud-islets. It thrives so well that it grows taller than a man's height, and so thick that it is almost impossible to push a boat through it. It forms a broad green enclosure around the whole lake, so that it is only accessible in a few places where the people have taken away the reeds. But if the reeds shut the people out, they give, in return, shelter and protection to many other things. In the reeds there are a lot of little dams and canals with green, still water, where duckweed and pondweed run to seed; and where gnat-eggs and blackfish and worms are hatched out in uncountable masses. And all along the shores of these little dams and canals, there are many well-concealed places, where seabirds hatch their eggs, and bring up their young without being disturbed, either by enemies or food worries. An incredible number of birds live in the Takern reeds; and more and more gather there every year, as it becomes known what a splendid abode it is. The first who settled there were the wild ducks; and they still live there by thousands. But they no longer own the entire lake, for they have been obliged to share it with swans, grebes, coots, loons, fen-ducks, and a lot of others. Takern is certainly the largest and choicest bird lake in the whole country; and the birds may count themselves lucky as long as they own such a retreat. But it is uncertain just how long they will be in control of reeds and mud-banks, for human beings cannot forget that the lake extends over a considerable portion of good and fertile soil; and every now and then the proposition to drain it comes up among them. And if these propositions were carried out, the many thousands of water-birds would be forced to move from this quarter. At the time when Nils Holgersson travelled around with the wild geese, there lived at Takern a wild duck named Jarro. He was a young bird, who had only lived one summer, one fall, and a winter; now, it was his first spring. He had just returned from South Africa, and had reached Takern in such good season that the ice was still on the lake. One evening, when he and the other young wild ducks played at racing backward and forward over the lake, a hunter fired a couple of shots at them, and Jarro was wounded in the breast. He thought he should die; but in order that the one who had shot him shouldn't get him into his power, he continued to fly as long as he possibly could. He didn't think whither he was directing his course, but only struggled to get far away. When his strength failed him, so that he could not fly any farther, he was no longer on the lake. He had flown a bit inland, and now he sank down before the entrance to one of the big farms which lie along the shores of Takern. A moment later a young farm-hand happened along. He saw Jarro,

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Akka had commanded the wild geese to start out--two and two--in different directions, to search for him. But after a two days' hunt, whether or not they had found him, they were to meet in northwestern Sm land on a high mountain-top, which resembled an abrupt, chopped-off tower, and was called Taberg. After Akka had given them the best directions, and described carefully how they should find Taberg, they had separated. The white goosey-gander had chosen Dunfin as travelling companion, and they had flown about hither and thither with the greatest anxiety for Thumbietot. During this ramble they had heard a thrush, who sat in a tree-top, cry and wail that someone, who called himself Kidnapped-by-Crows, had made fun of him. They had talked with the thrush, and he had shown them in which direction that Kidnapped-by-Crows had travelled. Afterward, they had met a dove-cock, a starling and a drake; they had all wailed about a little culprit who had disturbed their song, and who was named Caught-by-Crows, Captured-by-Crows, and Stolen-by-Crows. In this way, they were enabled to trace Thumbietot all the way to the heather-heath in Sonnerbo township. As soon as the goosey-gander and Dunfin had found Thumbietot, they had started toward the north, in order to reach Taberg. But it had been a long road to travel, and the darkness was upon them before they had sighted the mountain top. "If we only get there by to-morrow, surely all our troubles will be over," thought the boy, and dug down into the straw to have it warmer. All the while the cow fussed and fumed in the stall. Then, all of a sudden, she began to talk to the boy. "Everything is wrong with me," said the cow. "I am neither milked nor tended. I have no night fodder in my manger, and no bed has been made under me. My mistress came here at dusk, to put things in order for me, but she felt so ill, that she had to go in soon again, and she has not returned." "It's distressing that I should be little and powerless," said the boy. "I don't believe that I am able to help you." "You can't make me believe that you are powerless because you are little," said the cow. "All the elves that I've ever heard of, were so strong that they could pull a whole load of hay and strike a cow dead with one fist." The boy couldn't help laughing at the cow. "They were a very different kind of elf from me," said he. "But I'll loosen your halter and open the door for you, so that you can go out and drink in one of the pools on the place, and then I'll try to climb up to the hayloft and throw down some hay in your manger." "Yes, that would be some help," said the cow. The boy did as he had said; and when the cow stood with a full manger in front of her, he thought that at last he should get some sleep. But he had hardly crept down in the bed before she began, anew, to talk to him. "You'll be clean put out with me if I ask you for one thing more," said the cow. "Oh, no I won't, if it's only something that I'm able to do," said the boy. "Then I will ask you to go into the cabin, directly opposite, and find out how my mistress is getting along. I fear some misfortune has come to her." "No! I can't do that," said the boy. "I dare not show myself before human beings." "'Surely you're not afraid of an old and sick woman," said the cow. "But you do not need to go into the cabin. Just stand outside the door and peep in through the crack!" "Oh! if that is all you ask of me, I'll do it of course," said the boy. With that he opened the cowshed door and went out in the yard. It was a fearful night! Neither moon nor stars shone; the wind blew a gale, and the rain came down in torrents. And the worst of all was that seven great owls sat in a row on the eaves of the cabin. It was awful just to hear them, where they sat and grumbled at the weather; but it was even worse to think what would happen to him if one of them should set eyes on him. That would be the last of him. "Pity him who is little!" said the boy as he ventured out in the yard. And he had a right to say this, for he was blown down twice before he got to the house: once the wind swept him into a pool, which was so deep that he came near drowning. But he got there nevertheless. He clambered up a pair of steps, scrambled over a threshold, and came into the hallway. The cabin door was closed, but down in one corner a large piece had been cut away, that the cat might go in and out. It was no difficulty whatever for the boy to see how things were in the cabin. He had hardly cast a glance in there before he staggered back and turned his head away. An old, gray-haired woman lay stretched out on the floor within. She neither moved nor moaned; and her face shone strangely white. It was as if an invisible moon had thrown a feeble light over it. The boy remembered that when his grandfather had died, his face had also become so strangely white-like. And he understood that the old woman who lay on the cabin floor must be dead. Death had probably come to her so suddenly that she didn't even have time to lie down on her bed. As he thought of being alone with the dead in the middle of the dark night, he was terribly afraid. He threw himself headlong down the steps, and rushed back to the cowshed. When he told the cow what he had seen in the cabin, she stopped eating. "So my mistress is dead," said she. "Then it will soon be over for me as well." "There will always be someone to look out for you," said the boy comfortingly. "Ah! you don't know," said the cow, "that I am already twice as old as a cow usually is before she is laid upon the slaughter-bench. But then I do not care to live any longer, since she, in there, can come no more to care for me." She said nothing more for a while, but the boy observed, no doubt, that she neither slept nor ate. It was not long before she began to speak again. "Is she lying on the bare floor?" she asked. "She is," said the boy. "She had a habit of coming out to the cowshed," she continued, "and talking about everything that troubled her. I understood what she said, although I could not answer her. These last few days she talked of how afraid she was lest there would be no one with her when she died. She was anxious for fear no one should close her eyes and fold her hands across her breast, after she was dead. Perhaps you'll go in and do this?" The boy hesitated. He remembered that when his grandfather had died, mother had been very careful about putting everything to rights. He knew this was something which had to be done. But, on the other hand, he felt that he didn't care go to the dead, in the ghastly night. He didn't say no; neither did he take a step toward the cowshed door. For a couple of seconds the old cow was silent--just as if she had expected an answer. But when the boy said nothing, she did not repeat her request. Instead, she began to talk with him of her mistress. There was much to tell, first and foremost, about all the children which she had brought up. They had been in the cowshed every day, and in the summer they had taken the cattle to pasture on the swamp and in the groves, so the old cow knew all about them. They had been splendid, all of them, and happy and industrious. A cow knew well enough what her caretakers were good for. There was also much to be said about the farm. It had not always been as poor as it was now. It was very large--although the greater part of it consisted of swamps and stony groves. There was not much room for fields, but there was plenty of good fodder everywhere. At one time there had been a cow for every stall in the cowshed; and the oxshed, which was now empty, had at one time been filled with oxen. And then there was life and gayety, both in cabin and cowhouse. When the mistress opened the cowshed door she would hum and sing, and all the cows lowed with gladness when they heard her coming. But the good man had died when the children were so small that they could not be of any assistance, and the mistress had to take charge of the farm, and all the work and responsibility. She had been as strong as a man, and had both ploughed and reaped. In the evenings, when she came into the cowshed to milk, sometimes she was so tired that she wept. Then she dashed away her tears, and was cheerful again. "It doesn't matter. Good times are coming again for me too, if only my children grow up. Yes, if they only grow up." But as soon as the children were grown, a strange longing came over them. They didn't want to stay at home, but went away to a strange country. Their mother never got any help from them. A couple of her children were married before they went away, and they had left their children behind, in the old home. And now these children followed the mistress in the cowshed, just as her own had done. They tended the cows, and were fine, good folk. And, in the evenings, when the mistress was so tired out that she could fall asleep in the middle of the milking, she would rouse herself again to renewed courage by thinking of them. "Good times are coming for me, too," said she--and shook off sleep--"when once they are grown." But when these children grew up, they went away to their parents in the strange land. No one came back--no one stayed at home--the old mistress was left alone on the farm. Probably she had never asked them to remain with her. "Think you, R dlinna, that I would ask them to stay here with me, when they can go out in the world and have things comfortable?" she would say as she stood in the stall with the old cow. "Here in Sm land they have only poverty to look forward to." But when the last grandchild was gone, it was all up with the mistress. All at once she became bent and gray, and tottered as she walked; as if she no longer had the strength to move about. She stopped working. She did not care to look after the farm, but let everything go to rack and ruin. She didn't repair the houses; and she sold both the cows and the oxen. The only one that she kept was the old cow who now talked with Thumbietot. Her she let live because all the children had tended her. She could have taken maids and farm-hands into her service, who would have helped her with the work, but she couldn't bear to see strangers around her, since her own had deserted her. Perhaps she was better satisfied to let the farm go to ruin, since none of her children were coming back to take it after she was gone. She did not mind that she herself became poor, because she didn't value that which was only hers. But she was troubled lest the children should find out how hard she had it. "If only the children do not hear of this! If only the children do not hear of this!" she sighed as she tottered through the cowhouse. The children wrote constantly, and begged her to come out to them; but this she did not wish. She didn't want to see the land that had taken them from her. She was angry with it. "It's foolish of me, perhaps, that I do not like that land which has been so good for them," said she. "But I don't want to see it." She never thought of anything but the children, and of this--that they must needs have gone. When summer came, she led the cow out to graze in the big swamp. All day she would sit on the edge of the swamp, her hands in her lap; and on the way home she would say: "You see, R dlinna, if there had been large, rich fields here, in place of these barren swamps, then there would have been no need for them to leave." She could become furious with the swamp which spread out so big, and did no good. She could sit and talk about how it was the swamp's fault that the children had left her. This last evening she had been more trembly and feeble than ever before. She could not even do the milking. She had leaned against the manger and talked about two strangers who had been to see her, and had asked if they might buy the swamp. They wanted to drain it, and sow and raise grain on it. This had made her both anxious and glad. "Do you hear, R dlinna," she had said, "do you hear they said that grain can grow on the swamp? Now I shall write to the children to come home. Now they'll not have to stay away any longer; for now they can get their bread here at home." It was this that she had gone into the cabin to do-- The boy heard no more of what the old cow said. He had opened the cowhouse door and gone across the yard, and in to the dead whom he had but lately been so afraid of. It was not so poor in the cabin as he had expected. It was well supplied with the sort of things one generally finds among those who have relatives in America. In a corner there was an American rocking chair; on the table before the window lay a brocaded plush cover; there was a pretty spread on the bed; on the walls, in carved-wood frames, hung the photographs of the children and grandchildren who had gone away; on the bureau stood high vases and a couple of candlesticks, with thick, spiral candles in them. The boy searched for a matchbox and lighted these candles, not because he needed more light than he already had; but because he thought that this was one way to honour the dead. Then he went up to her, closed her eyes, folded her hands across her breast, and stroked back the thin gray hair from her face. He thought no more about being afraid of her. He was so deeply grieved because she had been forced to live out her old age in loneliness and longing. He, at least, would watch over her dead body this night. He hunted up the psalm book, and seated himself to read a couple of psalms in an undertone. But in the middle of the reading he paused--because he had begun to think about his mother and father. Think, that parents can long so for their children! This he had never known. Think, that life can be as though it was over for them when the children are away! Think, if those at home longed for him in the same way that this old peasant woman had longed! This thought made him happy, but he dared not believe in it. He had not been such a one that anybody could long for him. But what he had not been, perhaps he could become. Round about him he saw the portraits of those who were away. They were big, strong men and women with earnest faces. There were brides in long veils, and gentlemen in fine clothes; and there were children with waved hair and pretty white dresses. And he thought that they all stared blindly into vacancy--and did not want to see. "Poor you!" said the boy to the portraits. "Your mother is dead. You cannot make reparation now, because you went away from her. But my mother is living!" Here he paused, and nodded and smiled to himself. "My mother is living," said he. "Both father and mother are living." FROM TABERG TO HUSKVARNA _Friday, April fifteenth_. The boy sat awake nearly all night, but toward morning he fell asleep and then he dreamed of his father and mother. He could hardly recognise them. They had both grown gray, and had old and wrinkled faces. He asked how this had come about, and they answered that they had aged so because they had longed for him. He was both touched and astonished, for he had never believed but what they were glad to be rid of him. When the boy awoke the morning was come, with fine, clear weather. First, he himself ate a bit of bread which he found in the cabin; then he gave morning feed to both geese and cow, and opened the cowhouse door so that the cow could go over to the nearest farm. When the cow came along all by herself the neighbours would no doubt understand that something was wrong with her mistress. They would hurry over to the desolate farm to see how the old woman was getting along, and then they would find her dead body and bury it. The boy and the geese had barely raised themselves into the air, when they caught a glimpse of a high mountain, with almost perpendicular walls, and an abrupt, broken-off top; and they understood that this must be Taberg. On the summit stood Akka, with Yksi and Kaksi, Kolmi and Nelj , Viisi and Knusi, and all six goslings and waited for them. There was a rejoicing, and a cackling, and a fluttering, and a calling which no one can describe, when they saw that the goosey-gander and Dunfin had succeeded in finding Thumbietot. The woods grew pretty high up on Taberg's sides, but her highest peak was barren; and from there one could look out in all directions. If one gazed toward the east, or south, or west, then there was hardly anything to be seen but a poor highland with dark spruce-trees, brown morasses, ice-clad lakes, and bluish mountain-ridges. The boy couldn't keep from thinking it was true that the one who had created this hadn't taken very great pains with his work, but had thrown it together in a hurry. But if one glanced to the north, it was altogether different. Here it looked as if it had been worked out with the utmost care and affection. In this direction one saw only beautiful mountains, soft valleys, and winding rivers, all the way to the big Lake Vettern, which lay ice-free and transparently clear, and shone as if it wasn't filled with water but with blue light. It was Vettern that made it so pretty to look toward the north, because it looked as though a blue stream had risen up from the lake, and spread itself over land also. Groves and hills and roofs, and the spires of J nk ping City--which shimmered along Vettern's shores--lay enveloped in pale blue which caressed the eye. If there were countries in heaven, they, too, must be blue like this, thought the boy, and imagined that he had gotten a faint idea of how it must look in Paradise. Later in the day, when the geese continued their journey, they flew up toward the blue valley. They were in holiday humour; shrieked and made such a racket that no one who had ears could help hearing them. This happened to be the first really fine spring day they had had in this section. Until now, the spring had done its work under rain and bluster; and now, when it had all of a sudden become fine weather, the people were filled with such a longing after summer warmth and green woods that they could hardly perform their tasks. And when the wild geese rode by, high above the ground, cheerful and free, there wasn't one who did not drop what he had in hand, and glance at them. The first ones who saw the wild geese that day were miners on Taberg, who were digging ore at the mouth of the mine. When they heard them cackle, they paused in their drilling for ore, and one of them called to the birds: "Where are you going? Where are you going?" The geese didn't understand what he said, but the boy leaned forward over the goose-back, and answered for them: "Where there is neither pick nor hammer." When the miners heard the words, they thought it was their own longing that made the goose-cackle sound like human speech. "Take us along with you! Take us along with you!" they cried. "Not this year," shrieked the boy. "Not this year." The wild geese followed Taberg River down toward Monk Lake, and all the while they made the same racket. Here, on the narrow land-strip between Monk and Vettern lakes, lay J nk ping with its great factories. The wild geese rode first over Monksj paper mills. The noon rest hour was just over, and the big workmen were streaming down to the mill-gate. When they heard the wild geese, they stopped a moment to listen to them. "Where are you going? Where are you going?" called the workmen. The wild geese understood nothing of what they said, but the boy answered for them: "There, where there are neither machines nor steam-boxes." When the workmen heard the answer, they believed it was their own longing that made the goose-cackle sound like human speech. "Take us along with you!" "Not this year," answered the boy. "Not this year." Next, the geese rode over the well-known match factory, which lies on the shores of Vettern--large as a fortress--and lifts its high chimneys toward the sky. Not a soul moved out in the yards; but in a large hall young working-women sat and filled match-boxes. They had opened a window on account of the beautiful weather, and through it came the wild geese's call. The one who sat nearest the window, leaned out with a match-box in her hand, and cried: "Where are you going? Where are you going?" "To that land where there is no need of either light or matches," said the boy. The girl thought that what she had heard was only goose-cackle; but since she thought she had distinguished a couple of words, she called out in answer: "Take me along with you!" "Not this year," replied the boy. "Not this year." East of the factories rises J nk ping, on the most glorious spot that any city can occupy. The narrow Vettern has high, steep sand-shores, both on the eastern and western sides; but straight south, the sand-walls are broken down, just as if to make room for a large gate, through which one reaches the lake. And in the middle of the gate--with mountains to the left, and mountains to the right, with Monk Lake behind it, and Vettern in front of it--lies J nk ping. The wild geese travelled forward over the long, narrow city, and behaved themselves here just as they had done in the country. But in the city there was no one who answered them. It was not to be expected that city folks should stop out in the streets, and call to the wild geese. The trip extended further along Vettern's shores; and after a little they came to Sanna Sanitarium. Some of the patients had gone out on the veranda to enjoy the spring air, and in this way they heard the goose-cackle. "Where are you going?" asked one of them with such a feeble voice that he was scarcely heard. "To that land where there is neither sorrow nor sickness," answered the boy. "Take us along with you!" said the sick ones. "Not this year," answered the boy. "Not this year." When they had travelled still farther on, they came to Huskvarna. It lay in a valley. The mountains around it were steep and beautifully formed. A river rushed along the heights in long and narrow falls. Big workshops and factories lay below the mountain walls; and scattered over the valley-bottom were the workingmens' homes, encircled by little gardens; and in the centre of the valley lay the schoolhouse. Just as the wild geese came along, a bell rang, and a crowd of school children marched out in line. They were so numerous that the whole schoolyard was filled with them. "Where are you going? Where are you going?" the children shouted when they heard the wild geese. "Where there are neither books nor lessons to be found," answered the boy. "Take us along!" shrieked the children. "Not this year, but next," cried the boy. "Not this year, but next." THE BIG BIRD LAKE JARRO, THE WILD DUCK On the eastern shore of Vettern lies Mount Omberg; east of Omberg lies Dagmosse; east of Dagmosse lies Lake Takern. Around the whole of Takern spreads the big, even sterg ta plain. Takern is a pretty large lake and in olden times it must have been still larger. But then the people thought it covered entirely too much of the fertile plain, so they attempted to drain the water from it, that they might sow and reap on the lake-bottom. But they did not succeed in laying waste the entire lake--which had evidently been their intention--therefore it still hides a lot of land. Since the draining the lake has become so shallow that hardly at any point is it more than a couple of metres deep. The shores have become marshy and muddy; and out in the lake, little mud-islets stick up above the water's surface. Now, there is one who loves to stand with his feet in the water, if he can just keep his body and head in the air, and that is the reed. And it cannot find a better place to grow upon, than the long, shallow Takern shores, and around the little mud-islets. It thrives so well that it grows taller than a man's height, and so thick that it is almost impossible to push a boat through it. It forms a broad green enclosure around the whole lake, so that it is only accessible in a few places where the people have taken away the reeds. But if the reeds shut the people out, they give, in return, shelter and protection to many other things. In the reeds there are a lot of little dams and canals with green, still water, where duckweed and pondweed run to seed; and where gnat-eggs and blackfish and worms are hatched out in uncountable masses. And all along the shores of these little dams and canals, there are many well-concealed places, where seabirds hatch their eggs, and bring up their young without being disturbed, either by enemies or food worries. An incredible number of birds live in the Takern reeds; and more and more gather there every year, as it becomes known what a splendid abode it is. The first who settled there were the wild ducks; and they still live there by thousands. But they no longer own the entire lake, for they have been obliged to share it with swans, grebes, coots, loons, fen-ducks, and a lot of others. Takern is certainly the largest and choicest bird lake in the whole country; and the birds may count themselves lucky as long as they own such a retreat. But it is uncertain just how long they will be in control of reeds and mud-banks, for human beings cannot forget that the lake extends over a considerable portion of good and fertile soil; and every now and then the proposition to drain it comes up among them. And if these propositions were carried out, the many thousands of water-birds would be forced to move from this quarter. At the time when Nils Holgersson travelled around with the wild geese, there lived at Takern a wild duck named Jarro. He was a young bird, who had only lived one summer, one fall, and a winter; now, it was his first spring. He had just returned from South Africa, and had reached Takern in such good season that the ice was still on the lake. One evening, when he and the other young wild ducks played at racing backward and forward over the lake, a hunter fired a couple of shots at them, and Jarro was wounded in the breast. He thought he should die; but in order that the one who had shot him shouldn't get him into his power, he continued to fly as long as he possibly could. He didn't think whither he was directing his course, but only struggled to get far away. When his strength failed him, so that he could not fly any farther, he was no longer on the lake. He had flown a bit inland, and now he sank down before the entrance to one of the big farms which lie along the shores of Takern. A moment later a young farm-hand happened along. He saw Jarro,

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How many times the word 'am' appears in the text?

Akka had commanded the wild geese to start out--two and two--in different directions, to search for him. But after a two days' hunt, whether or not they had found him, they were to meet in northwestern Sm land on a high mountain-top, which resembled an abrupt, chopped-off tower, and was called Taberg. After Akka had given them the best directions, and described carefully how they should find Taberg, they had separated. The white goosey-gander had chosen Dunfin as travelling companion, and they had flown about hither and thither with the greatest anxiety for Thumbietot. During this ramble they had heard a thrush, who sat in a tree-top, cry and wail that someone, who called himself Kidnapped-by-Crows, had made fun of him. They had talked with the thrush, and he had shown them in which direction that Kidnapped-by-Crows had travelled. Afterward, they had met a dove-cock, a starling and a drake; they had all wailed about a little culprit who had disturbed their song, and who was named Caught-by-Crows, Captured-by-Crows, and Stolen-by-Crows. In this way, they were enabled to trace Thumbietot all the way to the heather-heath in Sonnerbo township. As soon as the goosey-gander and Dunfin had found Thumbietot, they had started toward the north, in order to reach Taberg. But it had been a long road to travel, and the darkness was upon them before they had sighted the mountain top. "If we only get there by to-morrow, surely all our troubles will be over," thought the boy, and dug down into the straw to have it warmer. All the while the cow fussed and fumed in the stall. Then, all of a sudden, she began to talk to the boy. "Everything is wrong with me," said the cow. "I am neither milked nor tended. I have no night fodder in my manger, and no bed has been made under me. My mistress came here at dusk, to put things in order for me, but she felt so ill, that she had to go in soon again, and she has not returned." "It's distressing that I should be little and powerless," said the boy. "I don't believe that I am able to help you." "You can't make me believe that you are powerless because you are little," said the cow. "All the elves that I've ever heard of, were so strong that they could pull a whole load of hay and strike a cow dead with one fist." The boy couldn't help laughing at the cow. "They were a very different kind of elf from me," said he. "But I'll loosen your halter and open the door for you, so that you can go out and drink in one of the pools on the place, and then I'll try to climb up to the hayloft and throw down some hay in your manger." "Yes, that would be some help," said the cow. The boy did as he had said; and when the cow stood with a full manger in front of her, he thought that at last he should get some sleep. But he had hardly crept down in the bed before she began, anew, to talk to him. "You'll be clean put out with me if I ask you for one thing more," said the cow. "Oh, no I won't, if it's only something that I'm able to do," said the boy. "Then I will ask you to go into the cabin, directly opposite, and find out how my mistress is getting along. I fear some misfortune has come to her." "No! I can't do that," said the boy. "I dare not show myself before human beings." "'Surely you're not afraid of an old and sick woman," said the cow. "But you do not need to go into the cabin. Just stand outside the door and peep in through the crack!" "Oh! if that is all you ask of me, I'll do it of course," said the boy. With that he opened the cowshed door and went out in the yard. It was a fearful night! Neither moon nor stars shone; the wind blew a gale, and the rain came down in torrents. And the worst of all was that seven great owls sat in a row on the eaves of the cabin. It was awful just to hear them, where they sat and grumbled at the weather; but it was even worse to think what would happen to him if one of them should set eyes on him. That would be the last of him. "Pity him who is little!" said the boy as he ventured out in the yard. And he had a right to say this, for he was blown down twice before he got to the house: once the wind swept him into a pool, which was so deep that he came near drowning. But he got there nevertheless. He clambered up a pair of steps, scrambled over a threshold, and came into the hallway. The cabin door was closed, but down in one corner a large piece had been cut away, that the cat might go in and out. It was no difficulty whatever for the boy to see how things were in the cabin. He had hardly cast a glance in there before he staggered back and turned his head away. An old, gray-haired woman lay stretched out on the floor within. She neither moved nor moaned; and her face shone strangely white. It was as if an invisible moon had thrown a feeble light over it. The boy remembered that when his grandfather had died, his face had also become so strangely white-like. And he understood that the old woman who lay on the cabin floor must be dead. Death had probably come to her so suddenly that she didn't even have time to lie down on her bed. As he thought of being alone with the dead in the middle of the dark night, he was terribly afraid. He threw himself headlong down the steps, and rushed back to the cowshed. When he told the cow what he had seen in the cabin, she stopped eating. "So my mistress is dead," said she. "Then it will soon be over for me as well." "There will always be someone to look out for you," said the boy comfortingly. "Ah! you don't know," said the cow, "that I am already twice as old as a cow usually is before she is laid upon the slaughter-bench. But then I do not care to live any longer, since she, in there, can come no more to care for me." She said nothing more for a while, but the boy observed, no doubt, that she neither slept nor ate. It was not long before she began to speak again. "Is she lying on the bare floor?" she asked. "She is," said the boy. "She had a habit of coming out to the cowshed," she continued, "and talking about everything that troubled her. I understood what she said, although I could not answer her. These last few days she talked of how afraid she was lest there would be no one with her when she died. She was anxious for fear no one should close her eyes and fold her hands across her breast, after she was dead. Perhaps you'll go in and do this?" The boy hesitated. He remembered that when his grandfather had died, mother had been very careful about putting everything to rights. He knew this was something which had to be done. But, on the other hand, he felt that he didn't care go to the dead, in the ghastly night. He didn't say no; neither did he take a step toward the cowshed door. For a couple of seconds the old cow was silent--just as if she had expected an answer. But when the boy said nothing, she did not repeat her request. Instead, she began to talk with him of her mistress. There was much to tell, first and foremost, about all the children which she had brought up. They had been in the cowshed every day, and in the summer they had taken the cattle to pasture on the swamp and in the groves, so the old cow knew all about them. They had been splendid, all of them, and happy and industrious. A cow knew well enough what her caretakers were good for. There was also much to be said about the farm. It had not always been as poor as it was now. It was very large--although the greater part of it consisted of swamps and stony groves. There was not much room for fields, but there was plenty of good fodder everywhere. At one time there had been a cow for every stall in the cowshed; and the oxshed, which was now empty, had at one time been filled with oxen. And then there was life and gayety, both in cabin and cowhouse. When the mistress opened the cowshed door she would hum and sing, and all the cows lowed with gladness when they heard her coming. But the good man had died when the children were so small that they could not be of any assistance, and the mistress had to take charge of the farm, and all the work and responsibility. She had been as strong as a man, and had both ploughed and reaped. In the evenings, when she came into the cowshed to milk, sometimes she was so tired that she wept. Then she dashed away her tears, and was cheerful again. "It doesn't matter. Good times are coming again for me too, if only my children grow up. Yes, if they only grow up." But as soon as the children were grown, a strange longing came over them. They didn't want to stay at home, but went away to a strange country. Their mother never got any help from them. A couple of her children were married before they went away, and they had left their children behind, in the old home. And now these children followed the mistress in the cowshed, just as her own had done. They tended the cows, and were fine, good folk. And, in the evenings, when the mistress was so tired out that she could fall asleep in the middle of the milking, she would rouse herself again to renewed courage by thinking of them. "Good times are coming for me, too," said she--and shook off sleep--"when once they are grown." But when these children grew up, they went away to their parents in the strange land. No one came back--no one stayed at home--the old mistress was left alone on the farm. Probably she had never asked them to remain with her. "Think you, R dlinna, that I would ask them to stay here with me, when they can go out in the world and have things comfortable?" she would say as she stood in the stall with the old cow. "Here in Sm land they have only poverty to look forward to." But when the last grandchild was gone, it was all up with the mistress. All at once she became bent and gray, and tottered as she walked; as if she no longer had the strength to move about. She stopped working. She did not care to look after the farm, but let everything go to rack and ruin. She didn't repair the houses; and she sold both the cows and the oxen. The only one that she kept was the old cow who now talked with Thumbietot. Her she let live because all the children had tended her. She could have taken maids and farm-hands into her service, who would have helped her with the work, but she couldn't bear to see strangers around her, since her own had deserted her. Perhaps she was better satisfied to let the farm go to ruin, since none of her children were coming back to take it after she was gone. She did not mind that she herself became poor, because she didn't value that which was only hers. But she was troubled lest the children should find out how hard she had it. "If only the children do not hear of this! If only the children do not hear of this!" she sighed as she tottered through the cowhouse. The children wrote constantly, and begged her to come out to them; but this she did not wish. She didn't want to see the land that had taken them from her. She was angry with it. "It's foolish of me, perhaps, that I do not like that land which has been so good for them," said she. "But I don't want to see it." She never thought of anything but the children, and of this--that they must needs have gone. When summer came, she led the cow out to graze in the big swamp. All day she would sit on the edge of the swamp, her hands in her lap; and on the way home she would say: "You see, R dlinna, if there had been large, rich fields here, in place of these barren swamps, then there would have been no need for them to leave." She could become furious with the swamp which spread out so big, and did no good. She could sit and talk about how it was the swamp's fault that the children had left her. This last evening she had been more trembly and feeble than ever before. She could not even do the milking. She had leaned against the manger and talked about two strangers who had been to see her, and had asked if they might buy the swamp. They wanted to drain it, and sow and raise grain on it. This had made her both anxious and glad. "Do you hear, R dlinna," she had said, "do you hear they said that grain can grow on the swamp? Now I shall write to the children to come home. Now they'll not have to stay away any longer; for now they can get their bread here at home." It was this that she had gone into the cabin to do-- The boy heard no more of what the old cow said. He had opened the cowhouse door and gone across the yard, and in to the dead whom he had but lately been so afraid of. It was not so poor in the cabin as he had expected. It was well supplied with the sort of things one generally finds among those who have relatives in America. In a corner there was an American rocking chair; on the table before the window lay a brocaded plush cover; there was a pretty spread on the bed; on the walls, in carved-wood frames, hung the photographs of the children and grandchildren who had gone away; on the bureau stood high vases and a couple of candlesticks, with thick, spiral candles in them. The boy searched for a matchbox and lighted these candles, not because he needed more light than he already had; but because he thought that this was one way to honour the dead. Then he went up to her, closed her eyes, folded her hands across her breast, and stroked back the thin gray hair from her face. He thought no more about being afraid of her. He was so deeply grieved because she had been forced to live out her old age in loneliness and longing. He, at least, would watch over her dead body this night. He hunted up the psalm book, and seated himself to read a couple of psalms in an undertone. But in the middle of the reading he paused--because he had begun to think about his mother and father. Think, that parents can long so for their children! This he had never known. Think, that life can be as though it was over for them when the children are away! Think, if those at home longed for him in the same way that this old peasant woman had longed! This thought made him happy, but he dared not believe in it. He had not been such a one that anybody could long for him. But what he had not been, perhaps he could become. Round about him he saw the portraits of those who were away. They were big, strong men and women with earnest faces. There were brides in long veils, and gentlemen in fine clothes; and there were children with waved hair and pretty white dresses. And he thought that they all stared blindly into vacancy--and did not want to see. "Poor you!" said the boy to the portraits. "Your mother is dead. You cannot make reparation now, because you went away from her. But my mother is living!" Here he paused, and nodded and smiled to himself. "My mother is living," said he. "Both father and mother are living." FROM TABERG TO HUSKVARNA _Friday, April fifteenth_. The boy sat awake nearly all night, but toward morning he fell asleep and then he dreamed of his father and mother. He could hardly recognise them. They had both grown gray, and had old and wrinkled faces. He asked how this had come about, and they answered that they had aged so because they had longed for him. He was both touched and astonished, for he had never believed but what they were glad to be rid of him. When the boy awoke the morning was come, with fine, clear weather. First, he himself ate a bit of bread which he found in the cabin; then he gave morning feed to both geese and cow, and opened the cowhouse door so that the cow could go over to the nearest farm. When the cow came along all by herself the neighbours would no doubt understand that something was wrong with her mistress. They would hurry over to the desolate farm to see how the old woman was getting along, and then they would find her dead body and bury it. The boy and the geese had barely raised themselves into the air, when they caught a glimpse of a high mountain, with almost perpendicular walls, and an abrupt, broken-off top; and they understood that this must be Taberg. On the summit stood Akka, with Yksi and Kaksi, Kolmi and Nelj , Viisi and Knusi, and all six goslings and waited for them. There was a rejoicing, and a cackling, and a fluttering, and a calling which no one can describe, when they saw that the goosey-gander and Dunfin had succeeded in finding Thumbietot. The woods grew pretty high up on Taberg's sides, but her highest peak was barren; and from there one could look out in all directions. If one gazed toward the east, or south, or west, then there was hardly anything to be seen but a poor highland with dark spruce-trees, brown morasses, ice-clad lakes, and bluish mountain-ridges. The boy couldn't keep from thinking it was true that the one who had created this hadn't taken very great pains with his work, but had thrown it together in a hurry. But if one glanced to the north, it was altogether different. Here it looked as if it had been worked out with the utmost care and affection. In this direction one saw only beautiful mountains, soft valleys, and winding rivers, all the way to the big Lake Vettern, which lay ice-free and transparently clear, and shone as if it wasn't filled with water but with blue light. It was Vettern that made it so pretty to look toward the north, because it looked as though a blue stream had risen up from the lake, and spread itself over land also. Groves and hills and roofs, and the spires of J nk ping City--which shimmered along Vettern's shores--lay enveloped in pale blue which caressed the eye. If there were countries in heaven, they, too, must be blue like this, thought the boy, and imagined that he had gotten a faint idea of how it must look in Paradise. Later in the day, when the geese continued their journey, they flew up toward the blue valley. They were in holiday humour; shrieked and made such a racket that no one who had ears could help hearing them. This happened to be the first really fine spring day they had had in this section. Until now, the spring had done its work under rain and bluster; and now, when it had all of a sudden become fine weather, the people were filled with such a longing after summer warmth and green woods that they could hardly perform their tasks. And when the wild geese rode by, high above the ground, cheerful and free, there wasn't one who did not drop what he had in hand, and glance at them. The first ones who saw the wild geese that day were miners on Taberg, who were digging ore at the mouth of the mine. When they heard them cackle, they paused in their drilling for ore, and one of them called to the birds: "Where are you going? Where are you going?" The geese didn't understand what he said, but the boy leaned forward over the goose-back, and answered for them: "Where there is neither pick nor hammer." When the miners heard the words, they thought it was their own longing that made the goose-cackle sound like human speech. "Take us along with you! Take us along with you!" they cried. "Not this year," shrieked the boy. "Not this year." The wild geese followed Taberg River down toward Monk Lake, and all the while they made the same racket. Here, on the narrow land-strip between Monk and Vettern lakes, lay J nk ping with its great factories. The wild geese rode first over Monksj paper mills. The noon rest hour was just over, and the big workmen were streaming down to the mill-gate. When they heard the wild geese, they stopped a moment to listen to them. "Where are you going? Where are you going?" called the workmen. The wild geese understood nothing of what they said, but the boy answered for them: "There, where there are neither machines nor steam-boxes." When the workmen heard the answer, they believed it was their own longing that made the goose-cackle sound like human speech. "Take us along with you!" "Not this year," answered the boy. "Not this year." Next, the geese rode over the well-known match factory, which lies on the shores of Vettern--large as a fortress--and lifts its high chimneys toward the sky. Not a soul moved out in the yards; but in a large hall young working-women sat and filled match-boxes. They had opened a window on account of the beautiful weather, and through it came the wild geese's call. The one who sat nearest the window, leaned out with a match-box in her hand, and cried: "Where are you going? Where are you going?" "To that land where there is no need of either light or matches," said the boy. The girl thought that what she had heard was only goose-cackle; but since she thought she had distinguished a couple of words, she called out in answer: "Take me along with you!" "Not this year," replied the boy. "Not this year." East of the factories rises J nk ping, on the most glorious spot that any city can occupy. The narrow Vettern has high, steep sand-shores, both on the eastern and western sides; but straight south, the sand-walls are broken down, just as if to make room for a large gate, through which one reaches the lake. And in the middle of the gate--with mountains to the left, and mountains to the right, with Monk Lake behind it, and Vettern in front of it--lies J nk ping. The wild geese travelled forward over the long, narrow city, and behaved themselves here just as they had done in the country. But in the city there was no one who answered them. It was not to be expected that city folks should stop out in the streets, and call to the wild geese. The trip extended further along Vettern's shores; and after a little they came to Sanna Sanitarium. Some of the patients had gone out on the veranda to enjoy the spring air, and in this way they heard the goose-cackle. "Where are you going?" asked one of them with such a feeble voice that he was scarcely heard. "To that land where there is neither sorrow nor sickness," answered the boy. "Take us along with you!" said the sick ones. "Not this year," answered the boy. "Not this year." When they had travelled still farther on, they came to Huskvarna. It lay in a valley. The mountains around it were steep and beautifully formed. A river rushed along the heights in long and narrow falls. Big workshops and factories lay below the mountain walls; and scattered over the valley-bottom were the workingmens' homes, encircled by little gardens; and in the centre of the valley lay the schoolhouse. Just as the wild geese came along, a bell rang, and a crowd of school children marched out in line. They were so numerous that the whole schoolyard was filled with them. "Where are you going? Where are you going?" the children shouted when they heard the wild geese. "Where there are neither books nor lessons to be found," answered the boy. "Take us along!" shrieked the children. "Not this year, but next," cried the boy. "Not this year, but next." THE BIG BIRD LAKE JARRO, THE WILD DUCK On the eastern shore of Vettern lies Mount Omberg; east of Omberg lies Dagmosse; east of Dagmosse lies Lake Takern. Around the whole of Takern spreads the big, even sterg ta plain. Takern is a pretty large lake and in olden times it must have been still larger. But then the people thought it covered entirely too much of the fertile plain, so they attempted to drain the water from it, that they might sow and reap on the lake-bottom. But they did not succeed in laying waste the entire lake--which had evidently been their intention--therefore it still hides a lot of land. Since the draining the lake has become so shallow that hardly at any point is it more than a couple of metres deep. The shores have become marshy and muddy; and out in the lake, little mud-islets stick up above the water's surface. Now, there is one who loves to stand with his feet in the water, if he can just keep his body and head in the air, and that is the reed. And it cannot find a better place to grow upon, than the long, shallow Takern shores, and around the little mud-islets. It thrives so well that it grows taller than a man's height, and so thick that it is almost impossible to push a boat through it. It forms a broad green enclosure around the whole lake, so that it is only accessible in a few places where the people have taken away the reeds. But if the reeds shut the people out, they give, in return, shelter and protection to many other things. In the reeds there are a lot of little dams and canals with green, still water, where duckweed and pondweed run to seed; and where gnat-eggs and blackfish and worms are hatched out in uncountable masses. And all along the shores of these little dams and canals, there are many well-concealed places, where seabirds hatch their eggs, and bring up their young without being disturbed, either by enemies or food worries. An incredible number of birds live in the Takern reeds; and more and more gather there every year, as it becomes known what a splendid abode it is. The first who settled there were the wild ducks; and they still live there by thousands. But they no longer own the entire lake, for they have been obliged to share it with swans, grebes, coots, loons, fen-ducks, and a lot of others. Takern is certainly the largest and choicest bird lake in the whole country; and the birds may count themselves lucky as long as they own such a retreat. But it is uncertain just how long they will be in control of reeds and mud-banks, for human beings cannot forget that the lake extends over a considerable portion of good and fertile soil; and every now and then the proposition to drain it comes up among them. And if these propositions were carried out, the many thousands of water-birds would be forced to move from this quarter. At the time when Nils Holgersson travelled around with the wild geese, there lived at Takern a wild duck named Jarro. He was a young bird, who had only lived one summer, one fall, and a winter; now, it was his first spring. He had just returned from South Africa, and had reached Takern in such good season that the ice was still on the lake. One evening, when he and the other young wild ducks played at racing backward and forward over the lake, a hunter fired a couple of shots at them, and Jarro was wounded in the breast. He thought he should die; but in order that the one who had shot him shouldn't get him into his power, he continued to fly as long as he possibly could. He didn't think whither he was directing his course, but only struggled to get far away. When his strength failed him, so that he could not fly any farther, he was no longer on the lake. He had flown a bit inland, and now he sank down before the entrance to one of the big farms which lie along the shores of Takern. A moment later a young farm-hand happened along. He saw Jarro,

oxen

How many times the word 'oxen' appears in the text?

Akka had commanded the wild geese to start out--two and two--in different directions, to search for him. But after a two days' hunt, whether or not they had found him, they were to meet in northwestern Sm land on a high mountain-top, which resembled an abrupt, chopped-off tower, and was called Taberg. After Akka had given them the best directions, and described carefully how they should find Taberg, they had separated. The white goosey-gander had chosen Dunfin as travelling companion, and they had flown about hither and thither with the greatest anxiety for Thumbietot. During this ramble they had heard a thrush, who sat in a tree-top, cry and wail that someone, who called himself Kidnapped-by-Crows, had made fun of him. They had talked with the thrush, and he had shown them in which direction that Kidnapped-by-Crows had travelled. Afterward, they had met a dove-cock, a starling and a drake; they had all wailed about a little culprit who had disturbed their song, and who was named Caught-by-Crows, Captured-by-Crows, and Stolen-by-Crows. In this way, they were enabled to trace Thumbietot all the way to the heather-heath in Sonnerbo township. As soon as the goosey-gander and Dunfin had found Thumbietot, they had started toward the north, in order to reach Taberg. But it had been a long road to travel, and the darkness was upon them before they had sighted the mountain top. "If we only get there by to-morrow, surely all our troubles will be over," thought the boy, and dug down into the straw to have it warmer. All the while the cow fussed and fumed in the stall. Then, all of a sudden, she began to talk to the boy. "Everything is wrong with me," said the cow. "I am neither milked nor tended. I have no night fodder in my manger, and no bed has been made under me. My mistress came here at dusk, to put things in order for me, but she felt so ill, that she had to go in soon again, and she has not returned." "It's distressing that I should be little and powerless," said the boy. "I don't believe that I am able to help you." "You can't make me believe that you are powerless because you are little," said the cow. "All the elves that I've ever heard of, were so strong that they could pull a whole load of hay and strike a cow dead with one fist." The boy couldn't help laughing at the cow. "They were a very different kind of elf from me," said he. "But I'll loosen your halter and open the door for you, so that you can go out and drink in one of the pools on the place, and then I'll try to climb up to the hayloft and throw down some hay in your manger." "Yes, that would be some help," said the cow. The boy did as he had said; and when the cow stood with a full manger in front of her, he thought that at last he should get some sleep. But he had hardly crept down in the bed before she began, anew, to talk to him. "You'll be clean put out with me if I ask you for one thing more," said the cow. "Oh, no I won't, if it's only something that I'm able to do," said the boy. "Then I will ask you to go into the cabin, directly opposite, and find out how my mistress is getting along. I fear some misfortune has come to her." "No! I can't do that," said the boy. "I dare not show myself before human beings." "'Surely you're not afraid of an old and sick woman," said the cow. "But you do not need to go into the cabin. Just stand outside the door and peep in through the crack!" "Oh! if that is all you ask of me, I'll do it of course," said the boy. With that he opened the cowshed door and went out in the yard. It was a fearful night! Neither moon nor stars shone; the wind blew a gale, and the rain came down in torrents. And the worst of all was that seven great owls sat in a row on the eaves of the cabin. It was awful just to hear them, where they sat and grumbled at the weather; but it was even worse to think what would happen to him if one of them should set eyes on him. That would be the last of him. "Pity him who is little!" said the boy as he ventured out in the yard. And he had a right to say this, for he was blown down twice before he got to the house: once the wind swept him into a pool, which was so deep that he came near drowning. But he got there nevertheless. He clambered up a pair of steps, scrambled over a threshold, and came into the hallway. The cabin door was closed, but down in one corner a large piece had been cut away, that the cat might go in and out. It was no difficulty whatever for the boy to see how things were in the cabin. He had hardly cast a glance in there before he staggered back and turned his head away. An old, gray-haired woman lay stretched out on the floor within. She neither moved nor moaned; and her face shone strangely white. It was as if an invisible moon had thrown a feeble light over it. The boy remembered that when his grandfather had died, his face had also become so strangely white-like. And he understood that the old woman who lay on the cabin floor must be dead. Death had probably come to her so suddenly that she didn't even have time to lie down on her bed. As he thought of being alone with the dead in the middle of the dark night, he was terribly afraid. He threw himself headlong down the steps, and rushed back to the cowshed. When he told the cow what he had seen in the cabin, she stopped eating. "So my mistress is dead," said she. "Then it will soon be over for me as well." "There will always be someone to look out for you," said the boy comfortingly. "Ah! you don't know," said the cow, "that I am already twice as old as a cow usually is before she is laid upon the slaughter-bench. But then I do not care to live any longer, since she, in there, can come no more to care for me." She said nothing more for a while, but the boy observed, no doubt, that she neither slept nor ate. It was not long before she began to speak again. "Is she lying on the bare floor?" she asked. "She is," said the boy. "She had a habit of coming out to the cowshed," she continued, "and talking about everything that troubled her. I understood what she said, although I could not answer her. These last few days she talked of how afraid she was lest there would be no one with her when she died. She was anxious for fear no one should close her eyes and fold her hands across her breast, after she was dead. Perhaps you'll go in and do this?" The boy hesitated. He remembered that when his grandfather had died, mother had been very careful about putting everything to rights. He knew this was something which had to be done. But, on the other hand, he felt that he didn't care go to the dead, in the ghastly night. He didn't say no; neither did he take a step toward the cowshed door. For a couple of seconds the old cow was silent--just as if she had expected an answer. But when the boy said nothing, she did not repeat her request. Instead, she began to talk with him of her mistress. There was much to tell, first and foremost, about all the children which she had brought up. They had been in the cowshed every day, and in the summer they had taken the cattle to pasture on the swamp and in the groves, so the old cow knew all about them. They had been splendid, all of them, and happy and industrious. A cow knew well enough what her caretakers were good for. There was also much to be said about the farm. It had not always been as poor as it was now. It was very large--although the greater part of it consisted of swamps and stony groves. There was not much room for fields, but there was plenty of good fodder everywhere. At one time there had been a cow for every stall in the cowshed; and the oxshed, which was now empty, had at one time been filled with oxen. And then there was life and gayety, both in cabin and cowhouse. When the mistress opened the cowshed door she would hum and sing, and all the cows lowed with gladness when they heard her coming. But the good man had died when the children were so small that they could not be of any assistance, and the mistress had to take charge of the farm, and all the work and responsibility. She had been as strong as a man, and had both ploughed and reaped. In the evenings, when she came into the cowshed to milk, sometimes she was so tired that she wept. Then she dashed away her tears, and was cheerful again. "It doesn't matter. Good times are coming again for me too, if only my children grow up. Yes, if they only grow up." But as soon as the children were grown, a strange longing came over them. They didn't want to stay at home, but went away to a strange country. Their mother never got any help from them. A couple of her children were married before they went away, and they had left their children behind, in the old home. And now these children followed the mistress in the cowshed, just as her own had done. They tended the cows, and were fine, good folk. And, in the evenings, when the mistress was so tired out that she could fall asleep in the middle of the milking, she would rouse herself again to renewed courage by thinking of them. "Good times are coming for me, too," said she--and shook off sleep--"when once they are grown." But when these children grew up, they went away to their parents in the strange land. No one came back--no one stayed at home--the old mistress was left alone on the farm. Probably she had never asked them to remain with her. "Think you, R dlinna, that I would ask them to stay here with me, when they can go out in the world and have things comfortable?" she would say as she stood in the stall with the old cow. "Here in Sm land they have only poverty to look forward to." But when the last grandchild was gone, it was all up with the mistress. All at once she became bent and gray, and tottered as she walked; as if she no longer had the strength to move about. She stopped working. She did not care to look after the farm, but let everything go to rack and ruin. She didn't repair the houses; and she sold both the cows and the oxen. The only one that she kept was the old cow who now talked with Thumbietot. Her she let live because all the children had tended her. She could have taken maids and farm-hands into her service, who would have helped her with the work, but she couldn't bear to see strangers around her, since her own had deserted her. Perhaps she was better satisfied to let the farm go to ruin, since none of her children were coming back to take it after she was gone. She did not mind that she herself became poor, because she didn't value that which was only hers. But she was troubled lest the children should find out how hard she had it. "If only the children do not hear of this! If only the children do not hear of this!" she sighed as she tottered through the cowhouse. The children wrote constantly, and begged her to come out to them; but this she did not wish. She didn't want to see the land that had taken them from her. She was angry with it. "It's foolish of me, perhaps, that I do not like that land which has been so good for them," said she. "But I don't want to see it." She never thought of anything but the children, and of this--that they must needs have gone. When summer came, she led the cow out to graze in the big swamp. All day she would sit on the edge of the swamp, her hands in her lap; and on the way home she would say: "You see, R dlinna, if there had been large, rich fields here, in place of these barren swamps, then there would have been no need for them to leave." She could become furious with the swamp which spread out so big, and did no good. She could sit and talk about how it was the swamp's fault that the children had left her. This last evening she had been more trembly and feeble than ever before. She could not even do the milking. She had leaned against the manger and talked about two strangers who had been to see her, and had asked if they might buy the swamp. They wanted to drain it, and sow and raise grain on it. This had made her both anxious and glad. "Do you hear, R dlinna," she had said, "do you hear they said that grain can grow on the swamp? Now I shall write to the children to come home. Now they'll not have to stay away any longer; for now they can get their bread here at home." It was this that she had gone into the cabin to do-- The boy heard no more of what the old cow said. He had opened the cowhouse door and gone across the yard, and in to the dead whom he had but lately been so afraid of. It was not so poor in the cabin as he had expected. It was well supplied with the sort of things one generally finds among those who have relatives in America. In a corner there was an American rocking chair; on the table before the window lay a brocaded plush cover; there was a pretty spread on the bed; on the walls, in carved-wood frames, hung the photographs of the children and grandchildren who had gone away; on the bureau stood high vases and a couple of candlesticks, with thick, spiral candles in them. The boy searched for a matchbox and lighted these candles, not because he needed more light than he already had; but because he thought that this was one way to honour the dead. Then he went up to her, closed her eyes, folded her hands across her breast, and stroked back the thin gray hair from her face. He thought no more about being afraid of her. He was so deeply grieved because she had been forced to live out her old age in loneliness and longing. He, at least, would watch over her dead body this night. He hunted up the psalm book, and seated himself to read a couple of psalms in an undertone. But in the middle of the reading he paused--because he had begun to think about his mother and father. Think, that parents can long so for their children! This he had never known. Think, that life can be as though it was over for them when the children are away! Think, if those at home longed for him in the same way that this old peasant woman had longed! This thought made him happy, but he dared not believe in it. He had not been such a one that anybody could long for him. But what he had not been, perhaps he could become. Round about him he saw the portraits of those who were away. They were big, strong men and women with earnest faces. There were brides in long veils, and gentlemen in fine clothes; and there were children with waved hair and pretty white dresses. And he thought that they all stared blindly into vacancy--and did not want to see. "Poor you!" said the boy to the portraits. "Your mother is dead. You cannot make reparation now, because you went away from her. But my mother is living!" Here he paused, and nodded and smiled to himself. "My mother is living," said he. "Both father and mother are living." FROM TABERG TO HUSKVARNA _Friday, April fifteenth_. The boy sat awake nearly all night, but toward morning he fell asleep and then he dreamed of his father and mother. He could hardly recognise them. They had both grown gray, and had old and wrinkled faces. He asked how this had come about, and they answered that they had aged so because they had longed for him. He was both touched and astonished, for he had never believed but what they were glad to be rid of him. When the boy awoke the morning was come, with fine, clear weather. First, he himself ate a bit of bread which he found in the cabin; then he gave morning feed to both geese and cow, and opened the cowhouse door so that the cow could go over to the nearest farm. When the cow came along all by herself the neighbours would no doubt understand that something was wrong with her mistress. They would hurry over to the desolate farm to see how the old woman was getting along, and then they would find her dead body and bury it. The boy and the geese had barely raised themselves into the air, when they caught a glimpse of a high mountain, with almost perpendicular walls, and an abrupt, broken-off top; and they understood that this must be Taberg. On the summit stood Akka, with Yksi and Kaksi, Kolmi and Nelj , Viisi and Knusi, and all six goslings and waited for them. There was a rejoicing, and a cackling, and a fluttering, and a calling which no one can describe, when they saw that the goosey-gander and Dunfin had succeeded in finding Thumbietot. The woods grew pretty high up on Taberg's sides, but her highest peak was barren; and from there one could look out in all directions. If one gazed toward the east, or south, or west, then there was hardly anything to be seen but a poor highland with dark spruce-trees, brown morasses, ice-clad lakes, and bluish mountain-ridges. The boy couldn't keep from thinking it was true that the one who had created this hadn't taken very great pains with his work, but had thrown it together in a hurry. But if one glanced to the north, it was altogether different. Here it looked as if it had been worked out with the utmost care and affection. In this direction one saw only beautiful mountains, soft valleys, and winding rivers, all the way to the big Lake Vettern, which lay ice-free and transparently clear, and shone as if it wasn't filled with water but with blue light. It was Vettern that made it so pretty to look toward the north, because it looked as though a blue stream had risen up from the lake, and spread itself over land also. Groves and hills and roofs, and the spires of J nk ping City--which shimmered along Vettern's shores--lay enveloped in pale blue which caressed the eye. If there were countries in heaven, they, too, must be blue like this, thought the boy, and imagined that he had gotten a faint idea of how it must look in Paradise. Later in the day, when the geese continued their journey, they flew up toward the blue valley. They were in holiday humour; shrieked and made such a racket that no one who had ears could help hearing them. This happened to be the first really fine spring day they had had in this section. Until now, the spring had done its work under rain and bluster; and now, when it had all of a sudden become fine weather, the people were filled with such a longing after summer warmth and green woods that they could hardly perform their tasks. And when the wild geese rode by, high above the ground, cheerful and free, there wasn't one who did not drop what he had in hand, and glance at them. The first ones who saw the wild geese that day were miners on Taberg, who were digging ore at the mouth of the mine. When they heard them cackle, they paused in their drilling for ore, and one of them called to the birds: "Where are you going? Where are you going?" The geese didn't understand what he said, but the boy leaned forward over the goose-back, and answered for them: "Where there is neither pick nor hammer." When the miners heard the words, they thought it was their own longing that made the goose-cackle sound like human speech. "Take us along with you! Take us along with you!" they cried. "Not this year," shrieked the boy. "Not this year." The wild geese followed Taberg River down toward Monk Lake, and all the while they made the same racket. Here, on the narrow land-strip between Monk and Vettern lakes, lay J nk ping with its great factories. The wild geese rode first over Monksj paper mills. The noon rest hour was just over, and the big workmen were streaming down to the mill-gate. When they heard the wild geese, they stopped a moment to listen to them. "Where are you going? Where are you going?" called the workmen. The wild geese understood nothing of what they said, but the boy answered for them: "There, where there are neither machines nor steam-boxes." When the workmen heard the answer, they believed it was their own longing that made the goose-cackle sound like human speech. "Take us along with you!" "Not this year," answered the boy. "Not this year." Next, the geese rode over the well-known match factory, which lies on the shores of Vettern--large as a fortress--and lifts its high chimneys toward the sky. Not a soul moved out in the yards; but in a large hall young working-women sat and filled match-boxes. They had opened a window on account of the beautiful weather, and through it came the wild geese's call. The one who sat nearest the window, leaned out with a match-box in her hand, and cried: "Where are you going? Where are you going?" "To that land where there is no need of either light or matches," said the boy. The girl thought that what she had heard was only goose-cackle; but since she thought she had distinguished a couple of words, she called out in answer: "Take me along with you!" "Not this year," replied the boy. "Not this year." East of the factories rises J nk ping, on the most glorious spot that any city can occupy. The narrow Vettern has high, steep sand-shores, both on the eastern and western sides; but straight south, the sand-walls are broken down, just as if to make room for a large gate, through which one reaches the lake. And in the middle of the gate--with mountains to the left, and mountains to the right, with Monk Lake behind it, and Vettern in front of it--lies J nk ping. The wild geese travelled forward over the long, narrow city, and behaved themselves here just as they had done in the country. But in the city there was no one who answered them. It was not to be expected that city folks should stop out in the streets, and call to the wild geese. The trip extended further along Vettern's shores; and after a little they came to Sanna Sanitarium. Some of the patients had gone out on the veranda to enjoy the spring air, and in this way they heard the goose-cackle. "Where are you going?" asked one of them with such a feeble voice that he was scarcely heard. "To that land where there is neither sorrow nor sickness," answered the boy. "Take us along with you!" said the sick ones. "Not this year," answered the boy. "Not this year." When they had travelled still farther on, they came to Huskvarna. It lay in a valley. The mountains around it were steep and beautifully formed. A river rushed along the heights in long and narrow falls. Big workshops and factories lay below the mountain walls; and scattered over the valley-bottom were the workingmens' homes, encircled by little gardens; and in the centre of the valley lay the schoolhouse. Just as the wild geese came along, a bell rang, and a crowd of school children marched out in line. They were so numerous that the whole schoolyard was filled with them. "Where are you going? Where are you going?" the children shouted when they heard the wild geese. "Where there are neither books nor lessons to be found," answered the boy. "Take us along!" shrieked the children. "Not this year, but next," cried the boy. "Not this year, but next." THE BIG BIRD LAKE JARRO, THE WILD DUCK On the eastern shore of Vettern lies Mount Omberg; east of Omberg lies Dagmosse; east of Dagmosse lies Lake Takern. Around the whole of Takern spreads the big, even sterg ta plain. Takern is a pretty large lake and in olden times it must have been still larger. But then the people thought it covered entirely too much of the fertile plain, so they attempted to drain the water from it, that they might sow and reap on the lake-bottom. But they did not succeed in laying waste the entire lake--which had evidently been their intention--therefore it still hides a lot of land. Since the draining the lake has become so shallow that hardly at any point is it more than a couple of metres deep. The shores have become marshy and muddy; and out in the lake, little mud-islets stick up above the water's surface. Now, there is one who loves to stand with his feet in the water, if he can just keep his body and head in the air, and that is the reed. And it cannot find a better place to grow upon, than the long, shallow Takern shores, and around the little mud-islets. It thrives so well that it grows taller than a man's height, and so thick that it is almost impossible to push a boat through it. It forms a broad green enclosure around the whole lake, so that it is only accessible in a few places where the people have taken away the reeds. But if the reeds shut the people out, they give, in return, shelter and protection to many other things. In the reeds there are a lot of little dams and canals with green, still water, where duckweed and pondweed run to seed; and where gnat-eggs and blackfish and worms are hatched out in uncountable masses. And all along the shores of these little dams and canals, there are many well-concealed places, where seabirds hatch their eggs, and bring up their young without being disturbed, either by enemies or food worries. An incredible number of birds live in the Takern reeds; and more and more gather there every year, as it becomes known what a splendid abode it is. The first who settled there were the wild ducks; and they still live there by thousands. But they no longer own the entire lake, for they have been obliged to share it with swans, grebes, coots, loons, fen-ducks, and a lot of others. Takern is certainly the largest and choicest bird lake in the whole country; and the birds may count themselves lucky as long as they own such a retreat. But it is uncertain just how long they will be in control of reeds and mud-banks, for human beings cannot forget that the lake extends over a considerable portion of good and fertile soil; and every now and then the proposition to drain it comes up among them. And if these propositions were carried out, the many thousands of water-birds would be forced to move from this quarter. At the time when Nils Holgersson travelled around with the wild geese, there lived at Takern a wild duck named Jarro. He was a young bird, who had only lived one summer, one fall, and a winter; now, it was his first spring. He had just returned from South Africa, and had reached Takern in such good season that the ice was still on the lake. One evening, when he and the other young wild ducks played at racing backward and forward over the lake, a hunter fired a couple of shots at them, and Jarro was wounded in the breast. He thought he should die; but in order that the one who had shot him shouldn't get him into his power, he continued to fly as long as he possibly could. He didn't think whither he was directing his course, but only struggled to get far away. When his strength failed him, so that he could not fly any farther, he was no longer on the lake. He had flown a bit inland, and now he sank down before the entrance to one of the big farms which lie along the shores of Takern. A moment later a young farm-hand happened along. He saw Jarro,

unmarked

How many times the word 'unmarked' appears in the text?

Akka had commanded the wild geese to start out--two and two--in different directions, to search for him. But after a two days' hunt, whether or not they had found him, they were to meet in northwestern Sm land on a high mountain-top, which resembled an abrupt, chopped-off tower, and was called Taberg. After Akka had given them the best directions, and described carefully how they should find Taberg, they had separated. The white goosey-gander had chosen Dunfin as travelling companion, and they had flown about hither and thither with the greatest anxiety for Thumbietot. During this ramble they had heard a thrush, who sat in a tree-top, cry and wail that someone, who called himself Kidnapped-by-Crows, had made fun of him. They had talked with the thrush, and he had shown them in which direction that Kidnapped-by-Crows had travelled. Afterward, they had met a dove-cock, a starling and a drake; they had all wailed about a little culprit who had disturbed their song, and who was named Caught-by-Crows, Captured-by-Crows, and Stolen-by-Crows. In this way, they were enabled to trace Thumbietot all the way to the heather-heath in Sonnerbo township. As soon as the goosey-gander and Dunfin had found Thumbietot, they had started toward the north, in order to reach Taberg. But it had been a long road to travel, and the darkness was upon them before they had sighted the mountain top. "If we only get there by to-morrow, surely all our troubles will be over," thought the boy, and dug down into the straw to have it warmer. All the while the cow fussed and fumed in the stall. Then, all of a sudden, she began to talk to the boy. "Everything is wrong with me," said the cow. "I am neither milked nor tended. I have no night fodder in my manger, and no bed has been made under me. My mistress came here at dusk, to put things in order for me, but she felt so ill, that she had to go in soon again, and she has not returned." "It's distressing that I should be little and powerless," said the boy. "I don't believe that I am able to help you." "You can't make me believe that you are powerless because you are little," said the cow. "All the elves that I've ever heard of, were so strong that they could pull a whole load of hay and strike a cow dead with one fist." The boy couldn't help laughing at the cow. "They were a very different kind of elf from me," said he. "But I'll loosen your halter and open the door for you, so that you can go out and drink in one of the pools on the place, and then I'll try to climb up to the hayloft and throw down some hay in your manger." "Yes, that would be some help," said the cow. The boy did as he had said; and when the cow stood with a full manger in front of her, he thought that at last he should get some sleep. But he had hardly crept down in the bed before she began, anew, to talk to him. "You'll be clean put out with me if I ask you for one thing more," said the cow. "Oh, no I won't, if it's only something that I'm able to do," said the boy. "Then I will ask you to go into the cabin, directly opposite, and find out how my mistress is getting along. I fear some misfortune has come to her." "No! I can't do that," said the boy. "I dare not show myself before human beings." "'Surely you're not afraid of an old and sick woman," said the cow. "But you do not need to go into the cabin. Just stand outside the door and peep in through the crack!" "Oh! if that is all you ask of me, I'll do it of course," said the boy. With that he opened the cowshed door and went out in the yard. It was a fearful night! Neither moon nor stars shone; the wind blew a gale, and the rain came down in torrents. And the worst of all was that seven great owls sat in a row on the eaves of the cabin. It was awful just to hear them, where they sat and grumbled at the weather; but it was even worse to think what would happen to him if one of them should set eyes on him. That would be the last of him. "Pity him who is little!" said the boy as he ventured out in the yard. And he had a right to say this, for he was blown down twice before he got to the house: once the wind swept him into a pool, which was so deep that he came near drowning. But he got there nevertheless. He clambered up a pair of steps, scrambled over a threshold, and came into the hallway. The cabin door was closed, but down in one corner a large piece had been cut away, that the cat might go in and out. It was no difficulty whatever for the boy to see how things were in the cabin. He had hardly cast a glance in there before he staggered back and turned his head away. An old, gray-haired woman lay stretched out on the floor within. She neither moved nor moaned; and her face shone strangely white. It was as if an invisible moon had thrown a feeble light over it. The boy remembered that when his grandfather had died, his face had also become so strangely white-like. And he understood that the old woman who lay on the cabin floor must be dead. Death had probably come to her so suddenly that she didn't even have time to lie down on her bed. As he thought of being alone with the dead in the middle of the dark night, he was terribly afraid. He threw himself headlong down the steps, and rushed back to the cowshed. When he told the cow what he had seen in the cabin, she stopped eating. "So my mistress is dead," said she. "Then it will soon be over for me as well." "There will always be someone to look out for you," said the boy comfortingly. "Ah! you don't know," said the cow, "that I am already twice as old as a cow usually is before she is laid upon the slaughter-bench. But then I do not care to live any longer, since she, in there, can come no more to care for me." She said nothing more for a while, but the boy observed, no doubt, that she neither slept nor ate. It was not long before she began to speak again. "Is she lying on the bare floor?" she asked. "She is," said the boy. "She had a habit of coming out to the cowshed," she continued, "and talking about everything that troubled her. I understood what she said, although I could not answer her. These last few days she talked of how afraid she was lest there would be no one with her when she died. She was anxious for fear no one should close her eyes and fold her hands across her breast, after she was dead. Perhaps you'll go in and do this?" The boy hesitated. He remembered that when his grandfather had died, mother had been very careful about putting everything to rights. He knew this was something which had to be done. But, on the other hand, he felt that he didn't care go to the dead, in the ghastly night. He didn't say no; neither did he take a step toward the cowshed door. For a couple of seconds the old cow was silent--just as if she had expected an answer. But when the boy said nothing, she did not repeat her request. Instead, she began to talk with him of her mistress. There was much to tell, first and foremost, about all the children which she had brought up. They had been in the cowshed every day, and in the summer they had taken the cattle to pasture on the swamp and in the groves, so the old cow knew all about them. They had been splendid, all of them, and happy and industrious. A cow knew well enough what her caretakers were good for. There was also much to be said about the farm. It had not always been as poor as it was now. It was very large--although the greater part of it consisted of swamps and stony groves. There was not much room for fields, but there was plenty of good fodder everywhere. At one time there had been a cow for every stall in the cowshed; and the oxshed, which was now empty, had at one time been filled with oxen. And then there was life and gayety, both in cabin and cowhouse. When the mistress opened the cowshed door she would hum and sing, and all the cows lowed with gladness when they heard her coming. But the good man had died when the children were so small that they could not be of any assistance, and the mistress had to take charge of the farm, and all the work and responsibility. She had been as strong as a man, and had both ploughed and reaped. In the evenings, when she came into the cowshed to milk, sometimes she was so tired that she wept. Then she dashed away her tears, and was cheerful again. "It doesn't matter. Good times are coming again for me too, if only my children grow up. Yes, if they only grow up." But as soon as the children were grown, a strange longing came over them. They didn't want to stay at home, but went away to a strange country. Their mother never got any help from them. A couple of her children were married before they went away, and they had left their children behind, in the old home. And now these children followed the mistress in the cowshed, just as her own had done. They tended the cows, and were fine, good folk. And, in the evenings, when the mistress was so tired out that she could fall asleep in the middle of the milking, she would rouse herself again to renewed courage by thinking of them. "Good times are coming for me, too," said she--and shook off sleep--"when once they are grown." But when these children grew up, they went away to their parents in the strange land. No one came back--no one stayed at home--the old mistress was left alone on the farm. Probably she had never asked them to remain with her. "Think you, R dlinna, that I would ask them to stay here with me, when they can go out in the world and have things comfortable?" she would say as she stood in the stall with the old cow. "Here in Sm land they have only poverty to look forward to." But when the last grandchild was gone, it was all up with the mistress. All at once she became bent and gray, and tottered as she walked; as if she no longer had the strength to move about. She stopped working. She did not care to look after the farm, but let everything go to rack and ruin. She didn't repair the houses; and she sold both the cows and the oxen. The only one that she kept was the old cow who now talked with Thumbietot. Her she let live because all the children had tended her. She could have taken maids and farm-hands into her service, who would have helped her with the work, but she couldn't bear to see strangers around her, since her own had deserted her. Perhaps she was better satisfied to let the farm go to ruin, since none of her children were coming back to take it after she was gone. She did not mind that she herself became poor, because she didn't value that which was only hers. But she was troubled lest the children should find out how hard she had it. "If only the children do not hear of this! If only the children do not hear of this!" she sighed as she tottered through the cowhouse. The children wrote constantly, and begged her to come out to them; but this she did not wish. She didn't want to see the land that had taken them from her. She was angry with it. "It's foolish of me, perhaps, that I do not like that land which has been so good for them," said she. "But I don't want to see it." She never thought of anything but the children, and of this--that they must needs have gone. When summer came, she led the cow out to graze in the big swamp. All day she would sit on the edge of the swamp, her hands in her lap; and on the way home she would say: "You see, R dlinna, if there had been large, rich fields here, in place of these barren swamps, then there would have been no need for them to leave." She could become furious with the swamp which spread out so big, and did no good. She could sit and talk about how it was the swamp's fault that the children had left her. This last evening she had been more trembly and feeble than ever before. She could not even do the milking. She had leaned against the manger and talked about two strangers who had been to see her, and had asked if they might buy the swamp. They wanted to drain it, and sow and raise grain on it. This had made her both anxious and glad. "Do you hear, R dlinna," she had said, "do you hear they said that grain can grow on the swamp? Now I shall write to the children to come home. Now they'll not have to stay away any longer; for now they can get their bread here at home." It was this that she had gone into the cabin to do-- The boy heard no more of what the old cow said. He had opened the cowhouse door and gone across the yard, and in to the dead whom he had but lately been so afraid of. It was not so poor in the cabin as he had expected. It was well supplied with the sort of things one generally finds among those who have relatives in America. In a corner there was an American rocking chair; on the table before the window lay a brocaded plush cover; there was a pretty spread on the bed; on the walls, in carved-wood frames, hung the photographs of the children and grandchildren who had gone away; on the bureau stood high vases and a couple of candlesticks, with thick, spiral candles in them. The boy searched for a matchbox and lighted these candles, not because he needed more light than he already had; but because he thought that this was one way to honour the dead. Then he went up to her, closed her eyes, folded her hands across her breast, and stroked back the thin gray hair from her face. He thought no more about being afraid of her. He was so deeply grieved because she had been forced to live out her old age in loneliness and longing. He, at least, would watch over her dead body this night. He hunted up the psalm book, and seated himself to read a couple of psalms in an undertone. But in the middle of the reading he paused--because he had begun to think about his mother and father. Think, that parents can long so for their children! This he had never known. Think, that life can be as though it was over for them when the children are away! Think, if those at home longed for him in the same way that this old peasant woman had longed! This thought made him happy, but he dared not believe in it. He had not been such a one that anybody could long for him. But what he had not been, perhaps he could become. Round about him he saw the portraits of those who were away. They were big, strong men and women with earnest faces. There were brides in long veils, and gentlemen in fine clothes; and there were children with waved hair and pretty white dresses. And he thought that they all stared blindly into vacancy--and did not want to see. "Poor you!" said the boy to the portraits. "Your mother is dead. You cannot make reparation now, because you went away from her. But my mother is living!" Here he paused, and nodded and smiled to himself. "My mother is living," said he. "Both father and mother are living." FROM TABERG TO HUSKVARNA _Friday, April fifteenth_. The boy sat awake nearly all night, but toward morning he fell asleep and then he dreamed of his father and mother. He could hardly recognise them. They had both grown gray, and had old and wrinkled faces. He asked how this had come about, and they answered that they had aged so because they had longed for him. He was both touched and astonished, for he had never believed but what they were glad to be rid of him. When the boy awoke the morning was come, with fine, clear weather. First, he himself ate a bit of bread which he found in the cabin; then he gave morning feed to both geese and cow, and opened the cowhouse door so that the cow could go over to the nearest farm. When the cow came along all by herself the neighbours would no doubt understand that something was wrong with her mistress. They would hurry over to the desolate farm to see how the old woman was getting along, and then they would find her dead body and bury it. The boy and the geese had barely raised themselves into the air, when they caught a glimpse of a high mountain, with almost perpendicular walls, and an abrupt, broken-off top; and they understood that this must be Taberg. On the summit stood Akka, with Yksi and Kaksi, Kolmi and Nelj , Viisi and Knusi, and all six goslings and waited for them. There was a rejoicing, and a cackling, and a fluttering, and a calling which no one can describe, when they saw that the goosey-gander and Dunfin had succeeded in finding Thumbietot. The woods grew pretty high up on Taberg's sides, but her highest peak was barren; and from there one could look out in all directions. If one gazed toward the east, or south, or west, then there was hardly anything to be seen but a poor highland with dark spruce-trees, brown morasses, ice-clad lakes, and bluish mountain-ridges. The boy couldn't keep from thinking it was true that the one who had created this hadn't taken very great pains with his work, but had thrown it together in a hurry. But if one glanced to the north, it was altogether different. Here it looked as if it had been worked out with the utmost care and affection. In this direction one saw only beautiful mountains, soft valleys, and winding rivers, all the way to the big Lake Vettern, which lay ice-free and transparently clear, and shone as if it wasn't filled with water but with blue light. It was Vettern that made it so pretty to look toward the north, because it looked as though a blue stream had risen up from the lake, and spread itself over land also. Groves and hills and roofs, and the spires of J nk ping City--which shimmered along Vettern's shores--lay enveloped in pale blue which caressed the eye. If there were countries in heaven, they, too, must be blue like this, thought the boy, and imagined that he had gotten a faint idea of how it must look in Paradise. Later in the day, when the geese continued their journey, they flew up toward the blue valley. They were in holiday humour; shrieked and made such a racket that no one who had ears could help hearing them. This happened to be the first really fine spring day they had had in this section. Until now, the spring had done its work under rain and bluster; and now, when it had all of a sudden become fine weather, the people were filled with such a longing after summer warmth and green woods that they could hardly perform their tasks. And when the wild geese rode by, high above the ground, cheerful and free, there wasn't one who did not drop what he had in hand, and glance at them. The first ones who saw the wild geese that day were miners on Taberg, who were digging ore at the mouth of the mine. When they heard them cackle, they paused in their drilling for ore, and one of them called to the birds: "Where are you going? Where are you going?" The geese didn't understand what he said, but the boy leaned forward over the goose-back, and answered for them: "Where there is neither pick nor hammer." When the miners heard the words, they thought it was their own longing that made the goose-cackle sound like human speech. "Take us along with you! Take us along with you!" they cried. "Not this year," shrieked the boy. "Not this year." The wild geese followed Taberg River down toward Monk Lake, and all the while they made the same racket. Here, on the narrow land-strip between Monk and Vettern lakes, lay J nk ping with its great factories. The wild geese rode first over Monksj paper mills. The noon rest hour was just over, and the big workmen were streaming down to the mill-gate. When they heard the wild geese, they stopped a moment to listen to them. "Where are you going? Where are you going?" called the workmen. The wild geese understood nothing of what they said, but the boy answered for them: "There, where there are neither machines nor steam-boxes." When the workmen heard the answer, they believed it was their own longing that made the goose-cackle sound like human speech. "Take us along with you!" "Not this year," answered the boy. "Not this year." Next, the geese rode over the well-known match factory, which lies on the shores of Vettern--large as a fortress--and lifts its high chimneys toward the sky. Not a soul moved out in the yards; but in a large hall young working-women sat and filled match-boxes. They had opened a window on account of the beautiful weather, and through it came the wild geese's call. The one who sat nearest the window, leaned out with a match-box in her hand, and cried: "Where are you going? Where are you going?" "To that land where there is no need of either light or matches," said the boy. The girl thought that what she had heard was only goose-cackle; but since she thought she had distinguished a couple of words, she called out in answer: "Take me along with you!" "Not this year," replied the boy. "Not this year." East of the factories rises J nk ping, on the most glorious spot that any city can occupy. The narrow Vettern has high, steep sand-shores, both on the eastern and western sides; but straight south, the sand-walls are broken down, just as if to make room for a large gate, through which one reaches the lake. And in the middle of the gate--with mountains to the left, and mountains to the right, with Monk Lake behind it, and Vettern in front of it--lies J nk ping. The wild geese travelled forward over the long, narrow city, and behaved themselves here just as they had done in the country. But in the city there was no one who answered them. It was not to be expected that city folks should stop out in the streets, and call to the wild geese. The trip extended further along Vettern's shores; and after a little they came to Sanna Sanitarium. Some of the patients had gone out on the veranda to enjoy the spring air, and in this way they heard the goose-cackle. "Where are you going?" asked one of them with such a feeble voice that he was scarcely heard. "To that land where there is neither sorrow nor sickness," answered the boy. "Take us along with you!" said the sick ones. "Not this year," answered the boy. "Not this year." When they had travelled still farther on, they came to Huskvarna. It lay in a valley. The mountains around it were steep and beautifully formed. A river rushed along the heights in long and narrow falls. Big workshops and factories lay below the mountain walls; and scattered over the valley-bottom were the workingmens' homes, encircled by little gardens; and in the centre of the valley lay the schoolhouse. Just as the wild geese came along, a bell rang, and a crowd of school children marched out in line. They were so numerous that the whole schoolyard was filled with them. "Where are you going? Where are you going?" the children shouted when they heard the wild geese. "Where there are neither books nor lessons to be found," answered the boy. "Take us along!" shrieked the children. "Not this year, but next," cried the boy. "Not this year, but next." THE BIG BIRD LAKE JARRO, THE WILD DUCK On the eastern shore of Vettern lies Mount Omberg; east of Omberg lies Dagmosse; east of Dagmosse lies Lake Takern. Around the whole of Takern spreads the big, even sterg ta plain. Takern is a pretty large lake and in olden times it must have been still larger. But then the people thought it covered entirely too much of the fertile plain, so they attempted to drain the water from it, that they might sow and reap on the lake-bottom. But they did not succeed in laying waste the entire lake--which had evidently been their intention--therefore it still hides a lot of land. Since the draining the lake has become so shallow that hardly at any point is it more than a couple of metres deep. The shores have become marshy and muddy; and out in the lake, little mud-islets stick up above the water's surface. Now, there is one who loves to stand with his feet in the water, if he can just keep his body and head in the air, and that is the reed. And it cannot find a better place to grow upon, than the long, shallow Takern shores, and around the little mud-islets. It thrives so well that it grows taller than a man's height, and so thick that it is almost impossible to push a boat through it. It forms a broad green enclosure around the whole lake, so that it is only accessible in a few places where the people have taken away the reeds. But if the reeds shut the people out, they give, in return, shelter and protection to many other things. In the reeds there are a lot of little dams and canals with green, still water, where duckweed and pondweed run to seed; and where gnat-eggs and blackfish and worms are hatched out in uncountable masses. And all along the shores of these little dams and canals, there are many well-concealed places, where seabirds hatch their eggs, and bring up their young without being disturbed, either by enemies or food worries. An incredible number of birds live in the Takern reeds; and more and more gather there every year, as it becomes known what a splendid abode it is. The first who settled there were the wild ducks; and they still live there by thousands. But they no longer own the entire lake, for they have been obliged to share it with swans, grebes, coots, loons, fen-ducks, and a lot of others. Takern is certainly the largest and choicest bird lake in the whole country; and the birds may count themselves lucky as long as they own such a retreat. But it is uncertain just how long they will be in control of reeds and mud-banks, for human beings cannot forget that the lake extends over a considerable portion of good and fertile soil; and every now and then the proposition to drain it comes up among them. And if these propositions were carried out, the many thousands of water-birds would be forced to move from this quarter. At the time when Nils Holgersson travelled around with the wild geese, there lived at Takern a wild duck named Jarro. He was a young bird, who had only lived one summer, one fall, and a winter; now, it was his first spring. He had just returned from South Africa, and had reached Takern in such good season that the ice was still on the lake. One evening, when he and the other young wild ducks played at racing backward and forward over the lake, a hunter fired a couple of shots at them, and Jarro was wounded in the breast. He thought he should die; but in order that the one who had shot him shouldn't get him into his power, he continued to fly as long as he possibly could. He didn't think whither he was directing his course, but only struggled to get far away. When his strength failed him, so that he could not fly any farther, he was no longer on the lake. He had flown a bit inland, and now he sank down before the entrance to one of the big farms which lie along the shores of Takern. A moment later a young farm-hand happened along. He saw Jarro,

racial

How many times the word 'racial' appears in the text?

Akka had commanded the wild geese to start out--two and two--in different directions, to search for him. But after a two days' hunt, whether or not they had found him, they were to meet in northwestern Sm land on a high mountain-top, which resembled an abrupt, chopped-off tower, and was called Taberg. After Akka had given them the best directions, and described carefully how they should find Taberg, they had separated. The white goosey-gander had chosen Dunfin as travelling companion, and they had flown about hither and thither with the greatest anxiety for Thumbietot. During this ramble they had heard a thrush, who sat in a tree-top, cry and wail that someone, who called himself Kidnapped-by-Crows, had made fun of him. They had talked with the thrush, and he had shown them in which direction that Kidnapped-by-Crows had travelled. Afterward, they had met a dove-cock, a starling and a drake; they had all wailed about a little culprit who had disturbed their song, and who was named Caught-by-Crows, Captured-by-Crows, and Stolen-by-Crows. In this way, they were enabled to trace Thumbietot all the way to the heather-heath in Sonnerbo township. As soon as the goosey-gander and Dunfin had found Thumbietot, they had started toward the north, in order to reach Taberg. But it had been a long road to travel, and the darkness was upon them before they had sighted the mountain top. "If we only get there by to-morrow, surely all our troubles will be over," thought the boy, and dug down into the straw to have it warmer. All the while the cow fussed and fumed in the stall. Then, all of a sudden, she began to talk to the boy. "Everything is wrong with me," said the cow. "I am neither milked nor tended. I have no night fodder in my manger, and no bed has been made under me. My mistress came here at dusk, to put things in order for me, but she felt so ill, that she had to go in soon again, and she has not returned." "It's distressing that I should be little and powerless," said the boy. "I don't believe that I am able to help you." "You can't make me believe that you are powerless because you are little," said the cow. "All the elves that I've ever heard of, were so strong that they could pull a whole load of hay and strike a cow dead with one fist." The boy couldn't help laughing at the cow. "They were a very different kind of elf from me," said he. "But I'll loosen your halter and open the door for you, so that you can go out and drink in one of the pools on the place, and then I'll try to climb up to the hayloft and throw down some hay in your manger." "Yes, that would be some help," said the cow. The boy did as he had said; and when the cow stood with a full manger in front of her, he thought that at last he should get some sleep. But he had hardly crept down in the bed before she began, anew, to talk to him. "You'll be clean put out with me if I ask you for one thing more," said the cow. "Oh, no I won't, if it's only something that I'm able to do," said the boy. "Then I will ask you to go into the cabin, directly opposite, and find out how my mistress is getting along. I fear some misfortune has come to her." "No! I can't do that," said the boy. "I dare not show myself before human beings." "'Surely you're not afraid of an old and sick woman," said the cow. "But you do not need to go into the cabin. Just stand outside the door and peep in through the crack!" "Oh! if that is all you ask of me, I'll do it of course," said the boy. With that he opened the cowshed door and went out in the yard. It was a fearful night! Neither moon nor stars shone; the wind blew a gale, and the rain came down in torrents. And the worst of all was that seven great owls sat in a row on the eaves of the cabin. It was awful just to hear them, where they sat and grumbled at the weather; but it was even worse to think what would happen to him if one of them should set eyes on him. That would be the last of him. "Pity him who is little!" said the boy as he ventured out in the yard. And he had a right to say this, for he was blown down twice before he got to the house: once the wind swept him into a pool, which was so deep that he came near drowning. But he got there nevertheless. He clambered up a pair of steps, scrambled over a threshold, and came into the hallway. The cabin door was closed, but down in one corner a large piece had been cut away, that the cat might go in and out. It was no difficulty whatever for the boy to see how things were in the cabin. He had hardly cast a glance in there before he staggered back and turned his head away. An old, gray-haired woman lay stretched out on the floor within. She neither moved nor moaned; and her face shone strangely white. It was as if an invisible moon had thrown a feeble light over it. The boy remembered that when his grandfather had died, his face had also become so strangely white-like. And he understood that the old woman who lay on the cabin floor must be dead. Death had probably come to her so suddenly that she didn't even have time to lie down on her bed. As he thought of being alone with the dead in the middle of the dark night, he was terribly afraid. He threw himself headlong down the steps, and rushed back to the cowshed. When he told the cow what he had seen in the cabin, she stopped eating. "So my mistress is dead," said she. "Then it will soon be over for me as well." "There will always be someone to look out for you," said the boy comfortingly. "Ah! you don't know," said the cow, "that I am already twice as old as a cow usually is before she is laid upon the slaughter-bench. But then I do not care to live any longer, since she, in there, can come no more to care for me." She said nothing more for a while, but the boy observed, no doubt, that she neither slept nor ate. It was not long before she began to speak again. "Is she lying on the bare floor?" she asked. "She is," said the boy. "She had a habit of coming out to the cowshed," she continued, "and talking about everything that troubled her. I understood what she said, although I could not answer her. These last few days she talked of how afraid she was lest there would be no one with her when she died. She was anxious for fear no one should close her eyes and fold her hands across her breast, after she was dead. Perhaps you'll go in and do this?" The boy hesitated. He remembered that when his grandfather had died, mother had been very careful about putting everything to rights. He knew this was something which had to be done. But, on the other hand, he felt that he didn't care go to the dead, in the ghastly night. He didn't say no; neither did he take a step toward the cowshed door. For a couple of seconds the old cow was silent--just as if she had expected an answer. But when the boy said nothing, she did not repeat her request. Instead, she began to talk with him of her mistress. There was much to tell, first and foremost, about all the children which she had brought up. They had been in the cowshed every day, and in the summer they had taken the cattle to pasture on the swamp and in the groves, so the old cow knew all about them. They had been splendid, all of them, and happy and industrious. A cow knew well enough what her caretakers were good for. There was also much to be said about the farm. It had not always been as poor as it was now. It was very large--although the greater part of it consisted of swamps and stony groves. There was not much room for fields, but there was plenty of good fodder everywhere. At one time there had been a cow for every stall in the cowshed; and the oxshed, which was now empty, had at one time been filled with oxen. And then there was life and gayety, both in cabin and cowhouse. When the mistress opened the cowshed door she would hum and sing, and all the cows lowed with gladness when they heard her coming. But the good man had died when the children were so small that they could not be of any assistance, and the mistress had to take charge of the farm, and all the work and responsibility. She had been as strong as a man, and had both ploughed and reaped. In the evenings, when she came into the cowshed to milk, sometimes she was so tired that she wept. Then she dashed away her tears, and was cheerful again. "It doesn't matter. Good times are coming again for me too, if only my children grow up. Yes, if they only grow up." But as soon as the children were grown, a strange longing came over them. They didn't want to stay at home, but went away to a strange country. Their mother never got any help from them. A couple of her children were married before they went away, and they had left their children behind, in the old home. And now these children followed the mistress in the cowshed, just as her own had done. They tended the cows, and were fine, good folk. And, in the evenings, when the mistress was so tired out that she could fall asleep in the middle of the milking, she would rouse herself again to renewed courage by thinking of them. "Good times are coming for me, too," said she--and shook off sleep--"when once they are grown." But when these children grew up, they went away to their parents in the strange land. No one came back--no one stayed at home--the old mistress was left alone on the farm. Probably she had never asked them to remain with her. "Think you, R dlinna, that I would ask them to stay here with me, when they can go out in the world and have things comfortable?" she would say as she stood in the stall with the old cow. "Here in Sm land they have only poverty to look forward to." But when the last grandchild was gone, it was all up with the mistress. All at once she became bent and gray, and tottered as she walked; as if she no longer had the strength to move about. She stopped working. She did not care to look after the farm, but let everything go to rack and ruin. She didn't repair the houses; and she sold both the cows and the oxen. The only one that she kept was the old cow who now talked with Thumbietot. Her she let live because all the children had tended her. She could have taken maids and farm-hands into her service, who would have helped her with the work, but she couldn't bear to see strangers around her, since her own had deserted her. Perhaps she was better satisfied to let the farm go to ruin, since none of her children were coming back to take it after she was gone. She did not mind that she herself became poor, because she didn't value that which was only hers. But she was troubled lest the children should find out how hard she had it. "If only the children do not hear of this! If only the children do not hear of this!" she sighed as she tottered through the cowhouse. The children wrote constantly, and begged her to come out to them; but this she did not wish. She didn't want to see the land that had taken them from her. She was angry with it. "It's foolish of me, perhaps, that I do not like that land which has been so good for them," said she. "But I don't want to see it." She never thought of anything but the children, and of this--that they must needs have gone. When summer came, she led the cow out to graze in the big swamp. All day she would sit on the edge of the swamp, her hands in her lap; and on the way home she would say: "You see, R dlinna, if there had been large, rich fields here, in place of these barren swamps, then there would have been no need for them to leave." She could become furious with the swamp which spread out so big, and did no good. She could sit and talk about how it was the swamp's fault that the children had left her. This last evening she had been more trembly and feeble than ever before. She could not even do the milking. She had leaned against the manger and talked about two strangers who had been to see her, and had asked if they might buy the swamp. They wanted to drain it, and sow and raise grain on it. This had made her both anxious and glad. "Do you hear, R dlinna," she had said, "do you hear they said that grain can grow on the swamp? Now I shall write to the children to come home. Now they'll not have to stay away any longer; for now they can get their bread here at home." It was this that she had gone into the cabin to do-- The boy heard no more of what the old cow said. He had opened the cowhouse door and gone across the yard, and in to the dead whom he had but lately been so afraid of. It was not so poor in the cabin as he had expected. It was well supplied with the sort of things one generally finds among those who have relatives in America. In a corner there was an American rocking chair; on the table before the window lay a brocaded plush cover; there was a pretty spread on the bed; on the walls, in carved-wood frames, hung the photographs of the children and grandchildren who had gone away; on the bureau stood high vases and a couple of candlesticks, with thick, spiral candles in them. The boy searched for a matchbox and lighted these candles, not because he needed more light than he already had; but because he thought that this was one way to honour the dead. Then he went up to her, closed her eyes, folded her hands across her breast, and stroked back the thin gray hair from her face. He thought no more about being afraid of her. He was so deeply grieved because she had been forced to live out her old age in loneliness and longing. He, at least, would watch over her dead body this night. He hunted up the psalm book, and seated himself to read a couple of psalms in an undertone. But in the middle of the reading he paused--because he had begun to think about his mother and father. Think, that parents can long so for their children! This he had never known. Think, that life can be as though it was over for them when the children are away! Think, if those at home longed for him in the same way that this old peasant woman had longed! This thought made him happy, but he dared not believe in it. He had not been such a one that anybody could long for him. But what he had not been, perhaps he could become. Round about him he saw the portraits of those who were away. They were big, strong men and women with earnest faces. There were brides in long veils, and gentlemen in fine clothes; and there were children with waved hair and pretty white dresses. And he thought that they all stared blindly into vacancy--and did not want to see. "Poor you!" said the boy to the portraits. "Your mother is dead. You cannot make reparation now, because you went away from her. But my mother is living!" Here he paused, and nodded and smiled to himself. "My mother is living," said he. "Both father and mother are living." FROM TABERG TO HUSKVARNA _Friday, April fifteenth_. The boy sat awake nearly all night, but toward morning he fell asleep and then he dreamed of his father and mother. He could hardly recognise them. They had both grown gray, and had old and wrinkled faces. He asked how this had come about, and they answered that they had aged so because they had longed for him. He was both touched and astonished, for he had never believed but what they were glad to be rid of him. When the boy awoke the morning was come, with fine, clear weather. First, he himself ate a bit of bread which he found in the cabin; then he gave morning feed to both geese and cow, and opened the cowhouse door so that the cow could go over to the nearest farm. When the cow came along all by herself the neighbours would no doubt understand that something was wrong with her mistress. They would hurry over to the desolate farm to see how the old woman was getting along, and then they would find her dead body and bury it. The boy and the geese had barely raised themselves into the air, when they caught a glimpse of a high mountain, with almost perpendicular walls, and an abrupt, broken-off top; and they understood that this must be Taberg. On the summit stood Akka, with Yksi and Kaksi, Kolmi and Nelj , Viisi and Knusi, and all six goslings and waited for them. There was a rejoicing, and a cackling, and a fluttering, and a calling which no one can describe, when they saw that the goosey-gander and Dunfin had succeeded in finding Thumbietot. The woods grew pretty high up on Taberg's sides, but her highest peak was barren; and from there one could look out in all directions. If one gazed toward the east, or south, or west, then there was hardly anything to be seen but a poor highland with dark spruce-trees, brown morasses, ice-clad lakes, and bluish mountain-ridges. The boy couldn't keep from thinking it was true that the one who had created this hadn't taken very great pains with his work, but had thrown it together in a hurry. But if one glanced to the north, it was altogether different. Here it looked as if it had been worked out with the utmost care and affection. In this direction one saw only beautiful mountains, soft valleys, and winding rivers, all the way to the big Lake Vettern, which lay ice-free and transparently clear, and shone as if it wasn't filled with water but with blue light. It was Vettern that made it so pretty to look toward the north, because it looked as though a blue stream had risen up from the lake, and spread itself over land also. Groves and hills and roofs, and the spires of J nk ping City--which shimmered along Vettern's shores--lay enveloped in pale blue which caressed the eye. If there were countries in heaven, they, too, must be blue like this, thought the boy, and imagined that he had gotten a faint idea of how it must look in Paradise. Later in the day, when the geese continued their journey, they flew up toward the blue valley. They were in holiday humour; shrieked and made such a racket that no one who had ears could help hearing them. This happened to be the first really fine spring day they had had in this section. Until now, the spring had done its work under rain and bluster; and now, when it had all of a sudden become fine weather, the people were filled with such a longing after summer warmth and green woods that they could hardly perform their tasks. And when the wild geese rode by, high above the ground, cheerful and free, there wasn't one who did not drop what he had in hand, and glance at them. The first ones who saw the wild geese that day were miners on Taberg, who were digging ore at the mouth of the mine. When they heard them cackle, they paused in their drilling for ore, and one of them called to the birds: "Where are you going? Where are you going?" The geese didn't understand what he said, but the boy leaned forward over the goose-back, and answered for them: "Where there is neither pick nor hammer." When the miners heard the words, they thought it was their own longing that made the goose-cackle sound like human speech. "Take us along with you! Take us along with you!" they cried. "Not this year," shrieked the boy. "Not this year." The wild geese followed Taberg River down toward Monk Lake, and all the while they made the same racket. Here, on the narrow land-strip between Monk and Vettern lakes, lay J nk ping with its great factories. The wild geese rode first over Monksj paper mills. The noon rest hour was just over, and the big workmen were streaming down to the mill-gate. When they heard the wild geese, they stopped a moment to listen to them. "Where are you going? Where are you going?" called the workmen. The wild geese understood nothing of what they said, but the boy answered for them: "There, where there are neither machines nor steam-boxes." When the workmen heard the answer, they believed it was their own longing that made the goose-cackle sound like human speech. "Take us along with you!" "Not this year," answered the boy. "Not this year." Next, the geese rode over the well-known match factory, which lies on the shores of Vettern--large as a fortress--and lifts its high chimneys toward the sky. Not a soul moved out in the yards; but in a large hall young working-women sat and filled match-boxes. They had opened a window on account of the beautiful weather, and through it came the wild geese's call. The one who sat nearest the window, leaned out with a match-box in her hand, and cried: "Where are you going? Where are you going?" "To that land where there is no need of either light or matches," said the boy. The girl thought that what she had heard was only goose-cackle; but since she thought she had distinguished a couple of words, she called out in answer: "Take me along with you!" "Not this year," replied the boy. "Not this year." East of the factories rises J nk ping, on the most glorious spot that any city can occupy. The narrow Vettern has high, steep sand-shores, both on the eastern and western sides; but straight south, the sand-walls are broken down, just as if to make room for a large gate, through which one reaches the lake. And in the middle of the gate--with mountains to the left, and mountains to the right, with Monk Lake behind it, and Vettern in front of it--lies J nk ping. The wild geese travelled forward over the long, narrow city, and behaved themselves here just as they had done in the country. But in the city there was no one who answered them. It was not to be expected that city folks should stop out in the streets, and call to the wild geese. The trip extended further along Vettern's shores; and after a little they came to Sanna Sanitarium. Some of the patients had gone out on the veranda to enjoy the spring air, and in this way they heard the goose-cackle. "Where are you going?" asked one of them with such a feeble voice that he was scarcely heard. "To that land where there is neither sorrow nor sickness," answered the boy. "Take us along with you!" said the sick ones. "Not this year," answered the boy. "Not this year." When they had travelled still farther on, they came to Huskvarna. It lay in a valley. The mountains around it were steep and beautifully formed. A river rushed along the heights in long and narrow falls. Big workshops and factories lay below the mountain walls; and scattered over the valley-bottom were the workingmens' homes, encircled by little gardens; and in the centre of the valley lay the schoolhouse. Just as the wild geese came along, a bell rang, and a crowd of school children marched out in line. They were so numerous that the whole schoolyard was filled with them. "Where are you going? Where are you going?" the children shouted when they heard the wild geese. "Where there are neither books nor lessons to be found," answered the boy. "Take us along!" shrieked the children. "Not this year, but next," cried the boy. "Not this year, but next." THE BIG BIRD LAKE JARRO, THE WILD DUCK On the eastern shore of Vettern lies Mount Omberg; east of Omberg lies Dagmosse; east of Dagmosse lies Lake Takern. Around the whole of Takern spreads the big, even sterg ta plain. Takern is a pretty large lake and in olden times it must have been still larger. But then the people thought it covered entirely too much of the fertile plain, so they attempted to drain the water from it, that they might sow and reap on the lake-bottom. But they did not succeed in laying waste the entire lake--which had evidently been their intention--therefore it still hides a lot of land. Since the draining the lake has become so shallow that hardly at any point is it more than a couple of metres deep. The shores have become marshy and muddy; and out in the lake, little mud-islets stick up above the water's surface. Now, there is one who loves to stand with his feet in the water, if he can just keep his body and head in the air, and that is the reed. And it cannot find a better place to grow upon, than the long, shallow Takern shores, and around the little mud-islets. It thrives so well that it grows taller than a man's height, and so thick that it is almost impossible to push a boat through it. It forms a broad green enclosure around the whole lake, so that it is only accessible in a few places where the people have taken away the reeds. But if the reeds shut the people out, they give, in return, shelter and protection to many other things. In the reeds there are a lot of little dams and canals with green, still water, where duckweed and pondweed run to seed; and where gnat-eggs and blackfish and worms are hatched out in uncountable masses. And all along the shores of these little dams and canals, there are many well-concealed places, where seabirds hatch their eggs, and bring up their young without being disturbed, either by enemies or food worries. An incredible number of birds live in the Takern reeds; and more and more gather there every year, as it becomes known what a splendid abode it is. The first who settled there were the wild ducks; and they still live there by thousands. But they no longer own the entire lake, for they have been obliged to share it with swans, grebes, coots, loons, fen-ducks, and a lot of others. Takern is certainly the largest and choicest bird lake in the whole country; and the birds may count themselves lucky as long as they own such a retreat. But it is uncertain just how long they will be in control of reeds and mud-banks, for human beings cannot forget that the lake extends over a considerable portion of good and fertile soil; and every now and then the proposition to drain it comes up among them. And if these propositions were carried out, the many thousands of water-birds would be forced to move from this quarter. At the time when Nils Holgersson travelled around with the wild geese, there lived at Takern a wild duck named Jarro. He was a young bird, who had only lived one summer, one fall, and a winter; now, it was his first spring. He had just returned from South Africa, and had reached Takern in such good season that the ice was still on the lake. One evening, when he and the other young wild ducks played at racing backward and forward over the lake, a hunter fired a couple of shots at them, and Jarro was wounded in the breast. He thought he should die; but in order that the one who had shot him shouldn't get him into his power, he continued to fly as long as he possibly could. He didn't think whither he was directing his course, but only struggled to get far away. When his strength failed him, so that he could not fly any farther, he was no longer on the lake. He had flown a bit inland, and now he sank down before the entrance to one of the big farms which lie along the shores of Takern. A moment later a young farm-hand happened along. He saw Jarro,

tort

How many times the word 'tort' appears in the text?

Akka had commanded the wild geese to start out--two and two--in different directions, to search for him. But after a two days' hunt, whether or not they had found him, they were to meet in northwestern Sm land on a high mountain-top, which resembled an abrupt, chopped-off tower, and was called Taberg. After Akka had given them the best directions, and described carefully how they should find Taberg, they had separated. The white goosey-gander had chosen Dunfin as travelling companion, and they had flown about hither and thither with the greatest anxiety for Thumbietot. During this ramble they had heard a thrush, who sat in a tree-top, cry and wail that someone, who called himself Kidnapped-by-Crows, had made fun of him. They had talked with the thrush, and he had shown them in which direction that Kidnapped-by-Crows had travelled. Afterward, they had met a dove-cock, a starling and a drake; they had all wailed about a little culprit who had disturbed their song, and who was named Caught-by-Crows, Captured-by-Crows, and Stolen-by-Crows. In this way, they were enabled to trace Thumbietot all the way to the heather-heath in Sonnerbo township. As soon as the goosey-gander and Dunfin had found Thumbietot, they had started toward the north, in order to reach Taberg. But it had been a long road to travel, and the darkness was upon them before they had sighted the mountain top. "If we only get there by to-morrow, surely all our troubles will be over," thought the boy, and dug down into the straw to have it warmer. All the while the cow fussed and fumed in the stall. Then, all of a sudden, she began to talk to the boy. "Everything is wrong with me," said the cow. "I am neither milked nor tended. I have no night fodder in my manger, and no bed has been made under me. My mistress came here at dusk, to put things in order for me, but she felt so ill, that she had to go in soon again, and she has not returned." "It's distressing that I should be little and powerless," said the boy. "I don't believe that I am able to help you." "You can't make me believe that you are powerless because you are little," said the cow. "All the elves that I've ever heard of, were so strong that they could pull a whole load of hay and strike a cow dead with one fist." The boy couldn't help laughing at the cow. "They were a very different kind of elf from me," said he. "But I'll loosen your halter and open the door for you, so that you can go out and drink in one of the pools on the place, and then I'll try to climb up to the hayloft and throw down some hay in your manger." "Yes, that would be some help," said the cow. The boy did as he had said; and when the cow stood with a full manger in front of her, he thought that at last he should get some sleep. But he had hardly crept down in the bed before she began, anew, to talk to him. "You'll be clean put out with me if I ask you for one thing more," said the cow. "Oh, no I won't, if it's only something that I'm able to do," said the boy. "Then I will ask you to go into the cabin, directly opposite, and find out how my mistress is getting along. I fear some misfortune has come to her." "No! I can't do that," said the boy. "I dare not show myself before human beings." "'Surely you're not afraid of an old and sick woman," said the cow. "But you do not need to go into the cabin. Just stand outside the door and peep in through the crack!" "Oh! if that is all you ask of me, I'll do it of course," said the boy. With that he opened the cowshed door and went out in the yard. It was a fearful night! Neither moon nor stars shone; the wind blew a gale, and the rain came down in torrents. And the worst of all was that seven great owls sat in a row on the eaves of the cabin. It was awful just to hear them, where they sat and grumbled at the weather; but it was even worse to think what would happen to him if one of them should set eyes on him. That would be the last of him. "Pity him who is little!" said the boy as he ventured out in the yard. And he had a right to say this, for he was blown down twice before he got to the house: once the wind swept him into a pool, which was so deep that he came near drowning. But he got there nevertheless. He clambered up a pair of steps, scrambled over a threshold, and came into the hallway. The cabin door was closed, but down in one corner a large piece had been cut away, that the cat might go in and out. It was no difficulty whatever for the boy to see how things were in the cabin. He had hardly cast a glance in there before he staggered back and turned his head away. An old, gray-haired woman lay stretched out on the floor within. She neither moved nor moaned; and her face shone strangely white. It was as if an invisible moon had thrown a feeble light over it. The boy remembered that when his grandfather had died, his face had also become so strangely white-like. And he understood that the old woman who lay on the cabin floor must be dead. Death had probably come to her so suddenly that she didn't even have time to lie down on her bed. As he thought of being alone with the dead in the middle of the dark night, he was terribly afraid. He threw himself headlong down the steps, and rushed back to the cowshed. When he told the cow what he had seen in the cabin, she stopped eating. "So my mistress is dead," said she. "Then it will soon be over for me as well." "There will always be someone to look out for you," said the boy comfortingly. "Ah! you don't know," said the cow, "that I am already twice as old as a cow usually is before she is laid upon the slaughter-bench. But then I do not care to live any longer, since she, in there, can come no more to care for me." She said nothing more for a while, but the boy observed, no doubt, that she neither slept nor ate. It was not long before she began to speak again. "Is she lying on the bare floor?" she asked. "She is," said the boy. "She had a habit of coming out to the cowshed," she continued, "and talking about everything that troubled her. I understood what she said, although I could not answer her. These last few days she talked of how afraid she was lest there would be no one with her when she died. She was anxious for fear no one should close her eyes and fold her hands across her breast, after she was dead. Perhaps you'll go in and do this?" The boy hesitated. He remembered that when his grandfather had died, mother had been very careful about putting everything to rights. He knew this was something which had to be done. But, on the other hand, he felt that he didn't care go to the dead, in the ghastly night. He didn't say no; neither did he take a step toward the cowshed door. For a couple of seconds the old cow was silent--just as if she had expected an answer. But when the boy said nothing, she did not repeat her request. Instead, she began to talk with him of her mistress. There was much to tell, first and foremost, about all the children which she had brought up. They had been in the cowshed every day, and in the summer they had taken the cattle to pasture on the swamp and in the groves, so the old cow knew all about them. They had been splendid, all of them, and happy and industrious. A cow knew well enough what her caretakers were good for. There was also much to be said about the farm. It had not always been as poor as it was now. It was very large--although the greater part of it consisted of swamps and stony groves. There was not much room for fields, but there was plenty of good fodder everywhere. At one time there had been a cow for every stall in the cowshed; and the oxshed, which was now empty, had at one time been filled with oxen. And then there was life and gayety, both in cabin and cowhouse. When the mistress opened the cowshed door she would hum and sing, and all the cows lowed with gladness when they heard her coming. But the good man had died when the children were so small that they could not be of any assistance, and the mistress had to take charge of the farm, and all the work and responsibility. She had been as strong as a man, and had both ploughed and reaped. In the evenings, when she came into the cowshed to milk, sometimes she was so tired that she wept. Then she dashed away her tears, and was cheerful again. "It doesn't matter. Good times are coming again for me too, if only my children grow up. Yes, if they only grow up." But as soon as the children were grown, a strange longing came over them. They didn't want to stay at home, but went away to a strange country. Their mother never got any help from them. A couple of her children were married before they went away, and they had left their children behind, in the old home. And now these children followed the mistress in the cowshed, just as her own had done. They tended the cows, and were fine, good folk. And, in the evenings, when the mistress was so tired out that she could fall asleep in the middle of the milking, she would rouse herself again to renewed courage by thinking of them. "Good times are coming for me, too," said she--and shook off sleep--"when once they are grown." But when these children grew up, they went away to their parents in the strange land. No one came back--no one stayed at home--the old mistress was left alone on the farm. Probably she had never asked them to remain with her. "Think you, R dlinna, that I would ask them to stay here with me, when they can go out in the world and have things comfortable?" she would say as she stood in the stall with the old cow. "Here in Sm land they have only poverty to look forward to." But when the last grandchild was gone, it was all up with the mistress. All at once she became bent and gray, and tottered as she walked; as if she no longer had the strength to move about. She stopped working. She did not care to look after the farm, but let everything go to rack and ruin. She didn't repair the houses; and she sold both the cows and the oxen. The only one that she kept was the old cow who now talked with Thumbietot. Her she let live because all the children had tended her. She could have taken maids and farm-hands into her service, who would have helped her with the work, but she couldn't bear to see strangers around her, since her own had deserted her. Perhaps she was better satisfied to let the farm go to ruin, since none of her children were coming back to take it after she was gone. She did not mind that she herself became poor, because she didn't value that which was only hers. But she was troubled lest the children should find out how hard she had it. "If only the children do not hear of this! If only the children do not hear of this!" she sighed as she tottered through the cowhouse. The children wrote constantly, and begged her to come out to them; but this she did not wish. She didn't want to see the land that had taken them from her. She was angry with it. "It's foolish of me, perhaps, that I do not like that land which has been so good for them," said she. "But I don't want to see it." She never thought of anything but the children, and of this--that they must needs have gone. When summer came, she led the cow out to graze in the big swamp. All day she would sit on the edge of the swamp, her hands in her lap; and on the way home she would say: "You see, R dlinna, if there had been large, rich fields here, in place of these barren swamps, then there would have been no need for them to leave." She could become furious with the swamp which spread out so big, and did no good. She could sit and talk about how it was the swamp's fault that the children had left her. This last evening she had been more trembly and feeble than ever before. She could not even do the milking. She had leaned against the manger and talked about two strangers who had been to see her, and had asked if they might buy the swamp. They wanted to drain it, and sow and raise grain on it. This had made her both anxious and glad. "Do you hear, R dlinna," she had said, "do you hear they said that grain can grow on the swamp? Now I shall write to the children to come home. Now they'll not have to stay away any longer; for now they can get their bread here at home." It was this that she had gone into the cabin to do-- The boy heard no more of what the old cow said. He had opened the cowhouse door and gone across the yard, and in to the dead whom he had but lately been so afraid of. It was not so poor in the cabin as he had expected. It was well supplied with the sort of things one generally finds among those who have relatives in America. In a corner there was an American rocking chair; on the table before the window lay a brocaded plush cover; there was a pretty spread on the bed; on the walls, in carved-wood frames, hung the photographs of the children and grandchildren who had gone away; on the bureau stood high vases and a couple of candlesticks, with thick, spiral candles in them. The boy searched for a matchbox and lighted these candles, not because he needed more light than he already had; but because he thought that this was one way to honour the dead. Then he went up to her, closed her eyes, folded her hands across her breast, and stroked back the thin gray hair from her face. He thought no more about being afraid of her. He was so deeply grieved because she had been forced to live out her old age in loneliness and longing. He, at least, would watch over her dead body this night. He hunted up the psalm book, and seated himself to read a couple of psalms in an undertone. But in the middle of the reading he paused--because he had begun to think about his mother and father. Think, that parents can long so for their children! This he had never known. Think, that life can be as though it was over for them when the children are away! Think, if those at home longed for him in the same way that this old peasant woman had longed! This thought made him happy, but he dared not believe in it. He had not been such a one that anybody could long for him. But what he had not been, perhaps he could become. Round about him he saw the portraits of those who were away. They were big, strong men and women with earnest faces. There were brides in long veils, and gentlemen in fine clothes; and there were children with waved hair and pretty white dresses. And he thought that they all stared blindly into vacancy--and did not want to see. "Poor you!" said the boy to the portraits. "Your mother is dead. You cannot make reparation now, because you went away from her. But my mother is living!" Here he paused, and nodded and smiled to himself. "My mother is living," said he. "Both father and mother are living." FROM TABERG TO HUSKVARNA _Friday, April fifteenth_. The boy sat awake nearly all night, but toward morning he fell asleep and then he dreamed of his father and mother. He could hardly recognise them. They had both grown gray, and had old and wrinkled faces. He asked how this had come about, and they answered that they had aged so because they had longed for him. He was both touched and astonished, for he had never believed but what they were glad to be rid of him. When the boy awoke the morning was come, with fine, clear weather. First, he himself ate a bit of bread which he found in the cabin; then he gave morning feed to both geese and cow, and opened the cowhouse door so that the cow could go over to the nearest farm. When the cow came along all by herself the neighbours would no doubt understand that something was wrong with her mistress. They would hurry over to the desolate farm to see how the old woman was getting along, and then they would find her dead body and bury it. The boy and the geese had barely raised themselves into the air, when they caught a glimpse of a high mountain, with almost perpendicular walls, and an abrupt, broken-off top; and they understood that this must be Taberg. On the summit stood Akka, with Yksi and Kaksi, Kolmi and Nelj , Viisi and Knusi, and all six goslings and waited for them. There was a rejoicing, and a cackling, and a fluttering, and a calling which no one can describe, when they saw that the goosey-gander and Dunfin had succeeded in finding Thumbietot. The woods grew pretty high up on Taberg's sides, but her highest peak was barren; and from there one could look out in all directions. If one gazed toward the east, or south, or west, then there was hardly anything to be seen but a poor highland with dark spruce-trees, brown morasses, ice-clad lakes, and bluish mountain-ridges. The boy couldn't keep from thinking it was true that the one who had created this hadn't taken very great pains with his work, but had thrown it together in a hurry. But if one glanced to the north, it was altogether different. Here it looked as if it had been worked out with the utmost care and affection. In this direction one saw only beautiful mountains, soft valleys, and winding rivers, all the way to the big Lake Vettern, which lay ice-free and transparently clear, and shone as if it wasn't filled with water but with blue light. It was Vettern that made it so pretty to look toward the north, because it looked as though a blue stream had risen up from the lake, and spread itself over land also. Groves and hills and roofs, and the spires of J nk ping City--which shimmered along Vettern's shores--lay enveloped in pale blue which caressed the eye. If there were countries in heaven, they, too, must be blue like this, thought the boy, and imagined that he had gotten a faint idea of how it must look in Paradise. Later in the day, when the geese continued their journey, they flew up toward the blue valley. They were in holiday humour; shrieked and made such a racket that no one who had ears could help hearing them. This happened to be the first really fine spring day they had had in this section. Until now, the spring had done its work under rain and bluster; and now, when it had all of a sudden become fine weather, the people were filled with such a longing after summer warmth and green woods that they could hardly perform their tasks. And when the wild geese rode by, high above the ground, cheerful and free, there wasn't one who did not drop what he had in hand, and glance at them. The first ones who saw the wild geese that day were miners on Taberg, who were digging ore at the mouth of the mine. When they heard them cackle, they paused in their drilling for ore, and one of them called to the birds: "Where are you going? Where are you going?" The geese didn't understand what he said, but the boy leaned forward over the goose-back, and answered for them: "Where there is neither pick nor hammer." When the miners heard the words, they thought it was their own longing that made the goose-cackle sound like human speech. "Take us along with you! Take us along with you!" they cried. "Not this year," shrieked the boy. "Not this year." The wild geese followed Taberg River down toward Monk Lake, and all the while they made the same racket. Here, on the narrow land-strip between Monk and Vettern lakes, lay J nk ping with its great factories. The wild geese rode first over Monksj paper mills. The noon rest hour was just over, and the big workmen were streaming down to the mill-gate. When they heard the wild geese, they stopped a moment to listen to them. "Where are you going? Where are you going?" called the workmen. The wild geese understood nothing of what they said, but the boy answered for them: "There, where there are neither machines nor steam-boxes." When the workmen heard the answer, they believed it was their own longing that made the goose-cackle sound like human speech. "Take us along with you!" "Not this year," answered the boy. "Not this year." Next, the geese rode over the well-known match factory, which lies on the shores of Vettern--large as a fortress--and lifts its high chimneys toward the sky. Not a soul moved out in the yards; but in a large hall young working-women sat and filled match-boxes. They had opened a window on account of the beautiful weather, and through it came the wild geese's call. The one who sat nearest the window, leaned out with a match-box in her hand, and cried: "Where are you going? Where are you going?" "To that land where there is no need of either light or matches," said the boy. The girl thought that what she had heard was only goose-cackle; but since she thought she had distinguished a couple of words, she called out in answer: "Take me along with you!" "Not this year," replied the boy. "Not this year." East of the factories rises J nk ping, on the most glorious spot that any city can occupy. The narrow Vettern has high, steep sand-shores, both on the eastern and western sides; but straight south, the sand-walls are broken down, just as if to make room for a large gate, through which one reaches the lake. And in the middle of the gate--with mountains to the left, and mountains to the right, with Monk Lake behind it, and Vettern in front of it--lies J nk ping. The wild geese travelled forward over the long, narrow city, and behaved themselves here just as they had done in the country. But in the city there was no one who answered them. It was not to be expected that city folks should stop out in the streets, and call to the wild geese. The trip extended further along Vettern's shores; and after a little they came to Sanna Sanitarium. Some of the patients had gone out on the veranda to enjoy the spring air, and in this way they heard the goose-cackle. "Where are you going?" asked one of them with such a feeble voice that he was scarcely heard. "To that land where there is neither sorrow nor sickness," answered the boy. "Take us along with you!" said the sick ones. "Not this year," answered the boy. "Not this year." When they had travelled still farther on, they came to Huskvarna. It lay in a valley. The mountains around it were steep and beautifully formed. A river rushed along the heights in long and narrow falls. Big workshops and factories lay below the mountain walls; and scattered over the valley-bottom were the workingmens' homes, encircled by little gardens; and in the centre of the valley lay the schoolhouse. Just as the wild geese came along, a bell rang, and a crowd of school children marched out in line. They were so numerous that the whole schoolyard was filled with them. "Where are you going? Where are you going?" the children shouted when they heard the wild geese. "Where there are neither books nor lessons to be found," answered the boy. "Take us along!" shrieked the children. "Not this year, but next," cried the boy. "Not this year, but next." THE BIG BIRD LAKE JARRO, THE WILD DUCK On the eastern shore of Vettern lies Mount Omberg; east of Omberg lies Dagmosse; east of Dagmosse lies Lake Takern. Around the whole of Takern spreads the big, even sterg ta plain. Takern is a pretty large lake and in olden times it must have been still larger. But then the people thought it covered entirely too much of the fertile plain, so they attempted to drain the water from it, that they might sow and reap on the lake-bottom. But they did not succeed in laying waste the entire lake--which had evidently been their intention--therefore it still hides a lot of land. Since the draining the lake has become so shallow that hardly at any point is it more than a couple of metres deep. The shores have become marshy and muddy; and out in the lake, little mud-islets stick up above the water's surface. Now, there is one who loves to stand with his feet in the water, if he can just keep his body and head in the air, and that is the reed. And it cannot find a better place to grow upon, than the long, shallow Takern shores, and around the little mud-islets. It thrives so well that it grows taller than a man's height, and so thick that it is almost impossible to push a boat through it. It forms a broad green enclosure around the whole lake, so that it is only accessible in a few places where the people have taken away the reeds. But if the reeds shut the people out, they give, in return, shelter and protection to many other things. In the reeds there are a lot of little dams and canals with green, still water, where duckweed and pondweed run to seed; and where gnat-eggs and blackfish and worms are hatched out in uncountable masses. And all along the shores of these little dams and canals, there are many well-concealed places, where seabirds hatch their eggs, and bring up their young without being disturbed, either by enemies or food worries. An incredible number of birds live in the Takern reeds; and more and more gather there every year, as it becomes known what a splendid abode it is. The first who settled there were the wild ducks; and they still live there by thousands. But they no longer own the entire lake, for they have been obliged to share it with swans, grebes, coots, loons, fen-ducks, and a lot of others. Takern is certainly the largest and choicest bird lake in the whole country; and the birds may count themselves lucky as long as they own such a retreat. But it is uncertain just how long they will be in control of reeds and mud-banks, for human beings cannot forget that the lake extends over a considerable portion of good and fertile soil; and every now and then the proposition to drain it comes up among them. And if these propositions were carried out, the many thousands of water-birds would be forced to move from this quarter. At the time when Nils Holgersson travelled around with the wild geese, there lived at Takern a wild duck named Jarro. He was a young bird, who had only lived one summer, one fall, and a winter; now, it was his first spring. He had just returned from South Africa, and had reached Takern in such good season that the ice was still on the lake. One evening, when he and the other young wild ducks played at racing backward and forward over the lake, a hunter fired a couple of shots at them, and Jarro was wounded in the breast. He thought he should die; but in order that the one who had shot him shouldn't get him into his power, he continued to fly as long as he possibly could. He didn't think whither he was directing his course, but only struggled to get far away. When his strength failed him, so that he could not fly any farther, he was no longer on the lake. He had flown a bit inland, and now he sank down before the entrance to one of the big farms which lie along the shores of Takern. A moment later a young farm-hand happened along. He saw Jarro,

thrush

How many times the word 'thrush' appears in the text?

Akka had commanded the wild geese to start out--two and two--in different directions, to search for him. But after a two days' hunt, whether or not they had found him, they were to meet in northwestern Sm land on a high mountain-top, which resembled an abrupt, chopped-off tower, and was called Taberg. After Akka had given them the best directions, and described carefully how they should find Taberg, they had separated. The white goosey-gander had chosen Dunfin as travelling companion, and they had flown about hither and thither with the greatest anxiety for Thumbietot. During this ramble they had heard a thrush, who sat in a tree-top, cry and wail that someone, who called himself Kidnapped-by-Crows, had made fun of him. They had talked with the thrush, and he had shown them in which direction that Kidnapped-by-Crows had travelled. Afterward, they had met a dove-cock, a starling and a drake; they had all wailed about a little culprit who had disturbed their song, and who was named Caught-by-Crows, Captured-by-Crows, and Stolen-by-Crows. In this way, they were enabled to trace Thumbietot all the way to the heather-heath in Sonnerbo township. As soon as the goosey-gander and Dunfin had found Thumbietot, they had started toward the north, in order to reach Taberg. But it had been a long road to travel, and the darkness was upon them before they had sighted the mountain top. "If we only get there by to-morrow, surely all our troubles will be over," thought the boy, and dug down into the straw to have it warmer. All the while the cow fussed and fumed in the stall. Then, all of a sudden, she began to talk to the boy. "Everything is wrong with me," said the cow. "I am neither milked nor tended. I have no night fodder in my manger, and no bed has been made under me. My mistress came here at dusk, to put things in order for me, but she felt so ill, that she had to go in soon again, and she has not returned." "It's distressing that I should be little and powerless," said the boy. "I don't believe that I am able to help you." "You can't make me believe that you are powerless because you are little," said the cow. "All the elves that I've ever heard of, were so strong that they could pull a whole load of hay and strike a cow dead with one fist." The boy couldn't help laughing at the cow. "They were a very different kind of elf from me," said he. "But I'll loosen your halter and open the door for you, so that you can go out and drink in one of the pools on the place, and then I'll try to climb up to the hayloft and throw down some hay in your manger." "Yes, that would be some help," said the cow. The boy did as he had said; and when the cow stood with a full manger in front of her, he thought that at last he should get some sleep. But he had hardly crept down in the bed before she began, anew, to talk to him. "You'll be clean put out with me if I ask you for one thing more," said the cow. "Oh, no I won't, if it's only something that I'm able to do," said the boy. "Then I will ask you to go into the cabin, directly opposite, and find out how my mistress is getting along. I fear some misfortune has come to her." "No! I can't do that," said the boy. "I dare not show myself before human beings." "'Surely you're not afraid of an old and sick woman," said the cow. "But you do not need to go into the cabin. Just stand outside the door and peep in through the crack!" "Oh! if that is all you ask of me, I'll do it of course," said the boy. With that he opened the cowshed door and went out in the yard. It was a fearful night! Neither moon nor stars shone; the wind blew a gale, and the rain came down in torrents. And the worst of all was that seven great owls sat in a row on the eaves of the cabin. It was awful just to hear them, where they sat and grumbled at the weather; but it was even worse to think what would happen to him if one of them should set eyes on him. That would be the last of him. "Pity him who is little!" said the boy as he ventured out in the yard. And he had a right to say this, for he was blown down twice before he got to the house: once the wind swept him into a pool, which was so deep that he came near drowning. But he got there nevertheless. He clambered up a pair of steps, scrambled over a threshold, and came into the hallway. The cabin door was closed, but down in one corner a large piece had been cut away, that the cat might go in and out. It was no difficulty whatever for the boy to see how things were in the cabin. He had hardly cast a glance in there before he staggered back and turned his head away. An old, gray-haired woman lay stretched out on the floor within. She neither moved nor moaned; and her face shone strangely white. It was as if an invisible moon had thrown a feeble light over it. The boy remembered that when his grandfather had died, his face had also become so strangely white-like. And he understood that the old woman who lay on the cabin floor must be dead. Death had probably come to her so suddenly that she didn't even have time to lie down on her bed. As he thought of being alone with the dead in the middle of the dark night, he was terribly afraid. He threw himself headlong down the steps, and rushed back to the cowshed. When he told the cow what he had seen in the cabin, she stopped eating. "So my mistress is dead," said she. "Then it will soon be over for me as well." "There will always be someone to look out for you," said the boy comfortingly. "Ah! you don't know," said the cow, "that I am already twice as old as a cow usually is before she is laid upon the slaughter-bench. But then I do not care to live any longer, since she, in there, can come no more to care for me." She said nothing more for a while, but the boy observed, no doubt, that she neither slept nor ate. It was not long before she began to speak again. "Is she lying on the bare floor?" she asked. "She is," said the boy. "She had a habit of coming out to the cowshed," she continued, "and talking about everything that troubled her. I understood what she said, although I could not answer her. These last few days she talked of how afraid she was lest there would be no one with her when she died. She was anxious for fear no one should close her eyes and fold her hands across her breast, after she was dead. Perhaps you'll go in and do this?" The boy hesitated. He remembered that when his grandfather had died, mother had been very careful about putting everything to rights. He knew this was something which had to be done. But, on the other hand, he felt that he didn't care go to the dead, in the ghastly night. He didn't say no; neither did he take a step toward the cowshed door. For a couple of seconds the old cow was silent--just as if she had expected an answer. But when the boy said nothing, she did not repeat her request. Instead, she began to talk with him of her mistress. There was much to tell, first and foremost, about all the children which she had brought up. They had been in the cowshed every day, and in the summer they had taken the cattle to pasture on the swamp and in the groves, so the old cow knew all about them. They had been splendid, all of them, and happy and industrious. A cow knew well enough what her caretakers were good for. There was also much to be said about the farm. It had not always been as poor as it was now. It was very large--although the greater part of it consisted of swamps and stony groves. There was not much room for fields, but there was plenty of good fodder everywhere. At one time there had been a cow for every stall in the cowshed; and the oxshed, which was now empty, had at one time been filled with oxen. And then there was life and gayety, both in cabin and cowhouse. When the mistress opened the cowshed door she would hum and sing, and all the cows lowed with gladness when they heard her coming. But the good man had died when the children were so small that they could not be of any assistance, and the mistress had to take charge of the farm, and all the work and responsibility. She had been as strong as a man, and had both ploughed and reaped. In the evenings, when she came into the cowshed to milk, sometimes she was so tired that she wept. Then she dashed away her tears, and was cheerful again. "It doesn't matter. Good times are coming again for me too, if only my children grow up. Yes, if they only grow up." But as soon as the children were grown, a strange longing came over them. They didn't want to stay at home, but went away to a strange country. Their mother never got any help from them. A couple of her children were married before they went away, and they had left their children behind, in the old home. And now these children followed the mistress in the cowshed, just as her own had done. They tended the cows, and were fine, good folk. And, in the evenings, when the mistress was so tired out that she could fall asleep in the middle of the milking, she would rouse herself again to renewed courage by thinking of them. "Good times are coming for me, too," said she--and shook off sleep--"when once they are grown." But when these children grew up, they went away to their parents in the strange land. No one came back--no one stayed at home--the old mistress was left alone on the farm. Probably she had never asked them to remain with her. "Think you, R dlinna, that I would ask them to stay here with me, when they can go out in the world and have things comfortable?" she would say as she stood in the stall with the old cow. "Here in Sm land they have only poverty to look forward to." But when the last grandchild was gone, it was all up with the mistress. All at once she became bent and gray, and tottered as she walked; as if she no longer had the strength to move about. She stopped working. She did not care to look after the farm, but let everything go to rack and ruin. She didn't repair the houses; and she sold both the cows and the oxen. The only one that she kept was the old cow who now talked with Thumbietot. Her she let live because all the children had tended her. She could have taken maids and farm-hands into her service, who would have helped her with the work, but she couldn't bear to see strangers around her, since her own had deserted her. Perhaps she was better satisfied to let the farm go to ruin, since none of her children were coming back to take it after she was gone. She did not mind that she herself became poor, because she didn't value that which was only hers. But she was troubled lest the children should find out how hard she had it. "If only the children do not hear of this! If only the children do not hear of this!" she sighed as she tottered through the cowhouse. The children wrote constantly, and begged her to come out to them; but this she did not wish. She didn't want to see the land that had taken them from her. She was angry with it. "It's foolish of me, perhaps, that I do not like that land which has been so good for them," said she. "But I don't want to see it." She never thought of anything but the children, and of this--that they must needs have gone. When summer came, she led the cow out to graze in the big swamp. All day she would sit on the edge of the swamp, her hands in her lap; and on the way home she would say: "You see, R dlinna, if there had been large, rich fields here, in place of these barren swamps, then there would have been no need for them to leave." She could become furious with the swamp which spread out so big, and did no good. She could sit and talk about how it was the swamp's fault that the children had left her. This last evening she had been more trembly and feeble than ever before. She could not even do the milking. She had leaned against the manger and talked about two strangers who had been to see her, and had asked if they might buy the swamp. They wanted to drain it, and sow and raise grain on it. This had made her both anxious and glad. "Do you hear, R dlinna," she had said, "do you hear they said that grain can grow on the swamp? Now I shall write to the children to come home. Now they'll not have to stay away any longer; for now they can get their bread here at home." It was this that she had gone into the cabin to do-- The boy heard no more of what the old cow said. He had opened the cowhouse door and gone across the yard, and in to the dead whom he had but lately been so afraid of. It was not so poor in the cabin as he had expected. It was well supplied with the sort of things one generally finds among those who have relatives in America. In a corner there was an American rocking chair; on the table before the window lay a brocaded plush cover; there was a pretty spread on the bed; on the walls, in carved-wood frames, hung the photographs of the children and grandchildren who had gone away; on the bureau stood high vases and a couple of candlesticks, with thick, spiral candles in them. The boy searched for a matchbox and lighted these candles, not because he needed more light than he already had; but because he thought that this was one way to honour the dead. Then he went up to her, closed her eyes, folded her hands across her breast, and stroked back the thin gray hair from her face. He thought no more about being afraid of her. He was so deeply grieved because she had been forced to live out her old age in loneliness and longing. He, at least, would watch over her dead body this night. He hunted up the psalm book, and seated himself to read a couple of psalms in an undertone. But in the middle of the reading he paused--because he had begun to think about his mother and father. Think, that parents can long so for their children! This he had never known. Think, that life can be as though it was over for them when the children are away! Think, if those at home longed for him in the same way that this old peasant woman had longed! This thought made him happy, but he dared not believe in it. He had not been such a one that anybody could long for him. But what he had not been, perhaps he could become. Round about him he saw the portraits of those who were away. They were big, strong men and women with earnest faces. There were brides in long veils, and gentlemen in fine clothes; and there were children with waved hair and pretty white dresses. And he thought that they all stared blindly into vacancy--and did not want to see. "Poor you!" said the boy to the portraits. "Your mother is dead. You cannot make reparation now, because you went away from her. But my mother is living!" Here he paused, and nodded and smiled to himself. "My mother is living," said he. "Both father and mother are living." FROM TABERG TO HUSKVARNA _Friday, April fifteenth_. The boy sat awake nearly all night, but toward morning he fell asleep and then he dreamed of his father and mother. He could hardly recognise them. They had both grown gray, and had old and wrinkled faces. He asked how this had come about, and they answered that they had aged so because they had longed for him. He was both touched and astonished, for he had never believed but what they were glad to be rid of him. When the boy awoke the morning was come, with fine, clear weather. First, he himself ate a bit of bread which he found in the cabin; then he gave morning feed to both geese and cow, and opened the cowhouse door so that the cow could go over to the nearest farm. When the cow came along all by herself the neighbours would no doubt understand that something was wrong with her mistress. They would hurry over to the desolate farm to see how the old woman was getting along, and then they would find her dead body and bury it. The boy and the geese had barely raised themselves into the air, when they caught a glimpse of a high mountain, with almost perpendicular walls, and an abrupt, broken-off top; and they understood that this must be Taberg. On the summit stood Akka, with Yksi and Kaksi, Kolmi and Nelj , Viisi and Knusi, and all six goslings and waited for them. There was a rejoicing, and a cackling, and a fluttering, and a calling which no one can describe, when they saw that the goosey-gander and Dunfin had succeeded in finding Thumbietot. The woods grew pretty high up on Taberg's sides, but her highest peak was barren; and from there one could look out in all directions. If one gazed toward the east, or south, or west, then there was hardly anything to be seen but a poor highland with dark spruce-trees, brown morasses, ice-clad lakes, and bluish mountain-ridges. The boy couldn't keep from thinking it was true that the one who had created this hadn't taken very great pains with his work, but had thrown it together in a hurry. But if one glanced to the north, it was altogether different. Here it looked as if it had been worked out with the utmost care and affection. In this direction one saw only beautiful mountains, soft valleys, and winding rivers, all the way to the big Lake Vettern, which lay ice-free and transparently clear, and shone as if it wasn't filled with water but with blue light. It was Vettern that made it so pretty to look toward the north, because it looked as though a blue stream had risen up from the lake, and spread itself over land also. Groves and hills and roofs, and the spires of J nk ping City--which shimmered along Vettern's shores--lay enveloped in pale blue which caressed the eye. If there were countries in heaven, they, too, must be blue like this, thought the boy, and imagined that he had gotten a faint idea of how it must look in Paradise. Later in the day, when the geese continued their journey, they flew up toward the blue valley. They were in holiday humour; shrieked and made such a racket that no one who had ears could help hearing them. This happened to be the first really fine spring day they had had in this section. Until now, the spring had done its work under rain and bluster; and now, when it had all of a sudden become fine weather, the people were filled with such a longing after summer warmth and green woods that they could hardly perform their tasks. And when the wild geese rode by, high above the ground, cheerful and free, there wasn't one who did not drop what he had in hand, and glance at them. The first ones who saw the wild geese that day were miners on Taberg, who were digging ore at the mouth of the mine. When they heard them cackle, they paused in their drilling for ore, and one of them called to the birds: "Where are you going? Where are you going?" The geese didn't understand what he said, but the boy leaned forward over the goose-back, and answered for them: "Where there is neither pick nor hammer." When the miners heard the words, they thought it was their own longing that made the goose-cackle sound like human speech. "Take us along with you! Take us along with you!" they cried. "Not this year," shrieked the boy. "Not this year." The wild geese followed Taberg River down toward Monk Lake, and all the while they made the same racket. Here, on the narrow land-strip between Monk and Vettern lakes, lay J nk ping with its great factories. The wild geese rode first over Monksj paper mills. The noon rest hour was just over, and the big workmen were streaming down to the mill-gate. When they heard the wild geese, they stopped a moment to listen to them. "Where are you going? Where are you going?" called the workmen. The wild geese understood nothing of what they said, but the boy answered for them: "There, where there are neither machines nor steam-boxes." When the workmen heard the answer, they believed it was their own longing that made the goose-cackle sound like human speech. "Take us along with you!" "Not this year," answered the boy. "Not this year." Next, the geese rode over the well-known match factory, which lies on the shores of Vettern--large as a fortress--and lifts its high chimneys toward the sky. Not a soul moved out in the yards; but in a large hall young working-women sat and filled match-boxes. They had opened a window on account of the beautiful weather, and through it came the wild geese's call. The one who sat nearest the window, leaned out with a match-box in her hand, and cried: "Where are you going? Where are you going?" "To that land where there is no need of either light or matches," said the boy. The girl thought that what she had heard was only goose-cackle; but since she thought she had distinguished a couple of words, she called out in answer: "Take me along with you!" "Not this year," replied the boy. "Not this year." East of the factories rises J nk ping, on the most glorious spot that any city can occupy. The narrow Vettern has high, steep sand-shores, both on the eastern and western sides; but straight south, the sand-walls are broken down, just as if to make room for a large gate, through which one reaches the lake. And in the middle of the gate--with mountains to the left, and mountains to the right, with Monk Lake behind it, and Vettern in front of it--lies J nk ping. The wild geese travelled forward over the long, narrow city, and behaved themselves here just as they had done in the country. But in the city there was no one who answered them. It was not to be expected that city folks should stop out in the streets, and call to the wild geese. The trip extended further along Vettern's shores; and after a little they came to Sanna Sanitarium. Some of the patients had gone out on the veranda to enjoy the spring air, and in this way they heard the goose-cackle. "Where are you going?" asked one of them with such a feeble voice that he was scarcely heard. "To that land where there is neither sorrow nor sickness," answered the boy. "Take us along with you!" said the sick ones. "Not this year," answered the boy. "Not this year." When they had travelled still farther on, they came to Huskvarna. It lay in a valley. The mountains around it were steep and beautifully formed. A river rushed along the heights in long and narrow falls. Big workshops and factories lay below the mountain walls; and scattered over the valley-bottom were the workingmens' homes, encircled by little gardens; and in the centre of the valley lay the schoolhouse. Just as the wild geese came along, a bell rang, and a crowd of school children marched out in line. They were so numerous that the whole schoolyard was filled with them. "Where are you going? Where are you going?" the children shouted when they heard the wild geese. "Where there are neither books nor lessons to be found," answered the boy. "Take us along!" shrieked the children. "Not this year, but next," cried the boy. "Not this year, but next." THE BIG BIRD LAKE JARRO, THE WILD DUCK On the eastern shore of Vettern lies Mount Omberg; east of Omberg lies Dagmosse; east of Dagmosse lies Lake Takern. Around the whole of Takern spreads the big, even sterg ta plain. Takern is a pretty large lake and in olden times it must have been still larger. But then the people thought it covered entirely too much of the fertile plain, so they attempted to drain the water from it, that they might sow and reap on the lake-bottom. But they did not succeed in laying waste the entire lake--which had evidently been their intention--therefore it still hides a lot of land. Since the draining the lake has become so shallow that hardly at any point is it more than a couple of metres deep. The shores have become marshy and muddy; and out in the lake, little mud-islets stick up above the water's surface. Now, there is one who loves to stand with his feet in the water, if he can just keep his body and head in the air, and that is the reed. And it cannot find a better place to grow upon, than the long, shallow Takern shores, and around the little mud-islets. It thrives so well that it grows taller than a man's height, and so thick that it is almost impossible to push a boat through it. It forms a broad green enclosure around the whole lake, so that it is only accessible in a few places where the people have taken away the reeds. But if the reeds shut the people out, they give, in return, shelter and protection to many other things. In the reeds there are a lot of little dams and canals with green, still water, where duckweed and pondweed run to seed; and where gnat-eggs and blackfish and worms are hatched out in uncountable masses. And all along the shores of these little dams and canals, there are many well-concealed places, where seabirds hatch their eggs, and bring up their young without being disturbed, either by enemies or food worries. An incredible number of birds live in the Takern reeds; and more and more gather there every year, as it becomes known what a splendid abode it is. The first who settled there were the wild ducks; and they still live there by thousands. But they no longer own the entire lake, for they have been obliged to share it with swans, grebes, coots, loons, fen-ducks, and a lot of others. Takern is certainly the largest and choicest bird lake in the whole country; and the birds may count themselves lucky as long as they own such a retreat. But it is uncertain just how long they will be in control of reeds and mud-banks, for human beings cannot forget that the lake extends over a considerable portion of good and fertile soil; and every now and then the proposition to drain it comes up among them. And if these propositions were carried out, the many thousands of water-birds would be forced to move from this quarter. At the time when Nils Holgersson travelled around with the wild geese, there lived at Takern a wild duck named Jarro. He was a young bird, who had only lived one summer, one fall, and a winter; now, it was his first spring. He had just returned from South Africa, and had reached Takern in such good season that the ice was still on the lake. One evening, when he and the other young wild ducks played at racing backward and forward over the lake, a hunter fired a couple of shots at them, and Jarro was wounded in the breast. He thought he should die; but in order that the one who had shot him shouldn't get him into his power, he continued to fly as long as he possibly could. He didn't think whither he was directing his course, but only struggled to get far away. When his strength failed him, so that he could not fly any farther, he was no longer on the lake. He had flown a bit inland, and now he sank down before the entrance to one of the big farms which lie along the shores of Takern. A moment later a young farm-hand happened along. He saw Jarro,

each

How many times the word 'each' appears in the text?

Akka had commanded the wild geese to start out--two and two--in different directions, to search for him. But after a two days' hunt, whether or not they had found him, they were to meet in northwestern Sm land on a high mountain-top, which resembled an abrupt, chopped-off tower, and was called Taberg. After Akka had given them the best directions, and described carefully how they should find Taberg, they had separated. The white goosey-gander had chosen Dunfin as travelling companion, and they had flown about hither and thither with the greatest anxiety for Thumbietot. During this ramble they had heard a thrush, who sat in a tree-top, cry and wail that someone, who called himself Kidnapped-by-Crows, had made fun of him. They had talked with the thrush, and he had shown them in which direction that Kidnapped-by-Crows had travelled. Afterward, they had met a dove-cock, a starling and a drake; they had all wailed about a little culprit who had disturbed their song, and who was named Caught-by-Crows, Captured-by-Crows, and Stolen-by-Crows. In this way, they were enabled to trace Thumbietot all the way to the heather-heath in Sonnerbo township. As soon as the goosey-gander and Dunfin had found Thumbietot, they had started toward the north, in order to reach Taberg. But it had been a long road to travel, and the darkness was upon them before they had sighted the mountain top. "If we only get there by to-morrow, surely all our troubles will be over," thought the boy, and dug down into the straw to have it warmer. All the while the cow fussed and fumed in the stall. Then, all of a sudden, she began to talk to the boy. "Everything is wrong with me," said the cow. "I am neither milked nor tended. I have no night fodder in my manger, and no bed has been made under me. My mistress came here at dusk, to put things in order for me, but she felt so ill, that she had to go in soon again, and she has not returned." "It's distressing that I should be little and powerless," said the boy. "I don't believe that I am able to help you." "You can't make me believe that you are powerless because you are little," said the cow. "All the elves that I've ever heard of, were so strong that they could pull a whole load of hay and strike a cow dead with one fist." The boy couldn't help laughing at the cow. "They were a very different kind of elf from me," said he. "But I'll loosen your halter and open the door for you, so that you can go out and drink in one of the pools on the place, and then I'll try to climb up to the hayloft and throw down some hay in your manger." "Yes, that would be some help," said the cow. The boy did as he had said; and when the cow stood with a full manger in front of her, he thought that at last he should get some sleep. But he had hardly crept down in the bed before she began, anew, to talk to him. "You'll be clean put out with me if I ask you for one thing more," said the cow. "Oh, no I won't, if it's only something that I'm able to do," said the boy. "Then I will ask you to go into the cabin, directly opposite, and find out how my mistress is getting along. I fear some misfortune has come to her." "No! I can't do that," said the boy. "I dare not show myself before human beings." "'Surely you're not afraid of an old and sick woman," said the cow. "But you do not need to go into the cabin. Just stand outside the door and peep in through the crack!" "Oh! if that is all you ask of me, I'll do it of course," said the boy. With that he opened the cowshed door and went out in the yard. It was a fearful night! Neither moon nor stars shone; the wind blew a gale, and the rain came down in torrents. And the worst of all was that seven great owls sat in a row on the eaves of the cabin. It was awful just to hear them, where they sat and grumbled at the weather; but it was even worse to think what would happen to him if one of them should set eyes on him. That would be the last of him. "Pity him who is little!" said the boy as he ventured out in the yard. And he had a right to say this, for he was blown down twice before he got to the house: once the wind swept him into a pool, which was so deep that he came near drowning. But he got there nevertheless. He clambered up a pair of steps, scrambled over a threshold, and came into the hallway. The cabin door was closed, but down in one corner a large piece had been cut away, that the cat might go in and out. It was no difficulty whatever for the boy to see how things were in the cabin. He had hardly cast a glance in there before he staggered back and turned his head away. An old, gray-haired woman lay stretched out on the floor within. She neither moved nor moaned; and her face shone strangely white. It was as if an invisible moon had thrown a feeble light over it. The boy remembered that when his grandfather had died, his face had also become so strangely white-like. And he understood that the old woman who lay on the cabin floor must be dead. Death had probably come to her so suddenly that she didn't even have time to lie down on her bed. As he thought of being alone with the dead in the middle of the dark night, he was terribly afraid. He threw himself headlong down the steps, and rushed back to the cowshed. When he told the cow what he had seen in the cabin, she stopped eating. "So my mistress is dead," said she. "Then it will soon be over for me as well." "There will always be someone to look out for you," said the boy comfortingly. "Ah! you don't know," said the cow, "that I am already twice as old as a cow usually is before she is laid upon the slaughter-bench. But then I do not care to live any longer, since she, in there, can come no more to care for me." She said nothing more for a while, but the boy observed, no doubt, that she neither slept nor ate. It was not long before she began to speak again. "Is she lying on the bare floor?" she asked. "She is," said the boy. "She had a habit of coming out to the cowshed," she continued, "and talking about everything that troubled her. I understood what she said, although I could not answer her. These last few days she talked of how afraid she was lest there would be no one with her when she died. She was anxious for fear no one should close her eyes and fold her hands across her breast, after she was dead. Perhaps you'll go in and do this?" The boy hesitated. He remembered that when his grandfather had died, mother had been very careful about putting everything to rights. He knew this was something which had to be done. But, on the other hand, he felt that he didn't care go to the dead, in the ghastly night. He didn't say no; neither did he take a step toward the cowshed door. For a couple of seconds the old cow was silent--just as if she had expected an answer. But when the boy said nothing, she did not repeat her request. Instead, she began to talk with him of her mistress. There was much to tell, first and foremost, about all the children which she had brought up. They had been in the cowshed every day, and in the summer they had taken the cattle to pasture on the swamp and in the groves, so the old cow knew all about them. They had been splendid, all of them, and happy and industrious. A cow knew well enough what her caretakers were good for. There was also much to be said about the farm. It had not always been as poor as it was now. It was very large--although the greater part of it consisted of swamps and stony groves. There was not much room for fields, but there was plenty of good fodder everywhere. At one time there had been a cow for every stall in the cowshed; and the oxshed, which was now empty, had at one time been filled with oxen. And then there was life and gayety, both in cabin and cowhouse. When the mistress opened the cowshed door she would hum and sing, and all the cows lowed with gladness when they heard her coming. But the good man had died when the children were so small that they could not be of any assistance, and the mistress had to take charge of the farm, and all the work and responsibility. She had been as strong as a man, and had both ploughed and reaped. In the evenings, when she came into the cowshed to milk, sometimes she was so tired that she wept. Then she dashed away her tears, and was cheerful again. "It doesn't matter. Good times are coming again for me too, if only my children grow up. Yes, if they only grow up." But as soon as the children were grown, a strange longing came over them. They didn't want to stay at home, but went away to a strange country. Their mother never got any help from them. A couple of her children were married before they went away, and they had left their children behind, in the old home. And now these children followed the mistress in the cowshed, just as her own had done. They tended the cows, and were fine, good folk. And, in the evenings, when the mistress was so tired out that she could fall asleep in the middle of the milking, she would rouse herself again to renewed courage by thinking of them. "Good times are coming for me, too," said she--and shook off sleep--"when once they are grown." But when these children grew up, they went away to their parents in the strange land. No one came back--no one stayed at home--the old mistress was left alone on the farm. Probably she had never asked them to remain with her. "Think you, R dlinna, that I would ask them to stay here with me, when they can go out in the world and have things comfortable?" she would say as she stood in the stall with the old cow. "Here in Sm land they have only poverty to look forward to." But when the last grandchild was gone, it was all up with the mistress. All at once she became bent and gray, and tottered as she walked; as if she no longer had the strength to move about. She stopped working. She did not care to look after the farm, but let everything go to rack and ruin. She didn't repair the houses; and she sold both the cows and the oxen. The only one that she kept was the old cow who now talked with Thumbietot. Her she let live because all the children had tended her. She could have taken maids and farm-hands into her service, who would have helped her with the work, but she couldn't bear to see strangers around her, since her own had deserted her. Perhaps she was better satisfied to let the farm go to ruin, since none of her children were coming back to take it after she was gone. She did not mind that she herself became poor, because she didn't value that which was only hers. But she was troubled lest the children should find out how hard she had it. "If only the children do not hear of this! If only the children do not hear of this!" she sighed as she tottered through the cowhouse. The children wrote constantly, and begged her to come out to them; but this she did not wish. She didn't want to see the land that had taken them from her. She was angry with it. "It's foolish of me, perhaps, that I do not like that land which has been so good for them," said she. "But I don't want to see it." She never thought of anything but the children, and of this--that they must needs have gone. When summer came, she led the cow out to graze in the big swamp. All day she would sit on the edge of the swamp, her hands in her lap; and on the way home she would say: "You see, R dlinna, if there had been large, rich fields here, in place of these barren swamps, then there would have been no need for them to leave." She could become furious with the swamp which spread out so big, and did no good. She could sit and talk about how it was the swamp's fault that the children had left her. This last evening she had been more trembly and feeble than ever before. She could not even do the milking. She had leaned against the manger and talked about two strangers who had been to see her, and had asked if they might buy the swamp. They wanted to drain it, and sow and raise grain on it. This had made her both anxious and glad. "Do you hear, R dlinna," she had said, "do you hear they said that grain can grow on the swamp? Now I shall write to the children to come home. Now they'll not have to stay away any longer; for now they can get their bread here at home." It was this that she had gone into the cabin to do-- The boy heard no more of what the old cow said. He had opened the cowhouse door and gone across the yard, and in to the dead whom he had but lately been so afraid of. It was not so poor in the cabin as he had expected. It was well supplied with the sort of things one generally finds among those who have relatives in America. In a corner there was an American rocking chair; on the table before the window lay a brocaded plush cover; there was a pretty spread on the bed; on the walls, in carved-wood frames, hung the photographs of the children and grandchildren who had gone away; on the bureau stood high vases and a couple of candlesticks, with thick, spiral candles in them. The boy searched for a matchbox and lighted these candles, not because he needed more light than he already had; but because he thought that this was one way to honour the dead. Then he went up to her, closed her eyes, folded her hands across her breast, and stroked back the thin gray hair from her face. He thought no more about being afraid of her. He was so deeply grieved because she had been forced to live out her old age in loneliness and longing. He, at least, would watch over her dead body this night. He hunted up the psalm book, and seated himself to read a couple of psalms in an undertone. But in the middle of the reading he paused--because he had begun to think about his mother and father. Think, that parents can long so for their children! This he had never known. Think, that life can be as though it was over for them when the children are away! Think, if those at home longed for him in the same way that this old peasant woman had longed! This thought made him happy, but he dared not believe in it. He had not been such a one that anybody could long for him. But what he had not been, perhaps he could become. Round about him he saw the portraits of those who were away. They were big, strong men and women with earnest faces. There were brides in long veils, and gentlemen in fine clothes; and there were children with waved hair and pretty white dresses. And he thought that they all stared blindly into vacancy--and did not want to see. "Poor you!" said the boy to the portraits. "Your mother is dead. You cannot make reparation now, because you went away from her. But my mother is living!" Here he paused, and nodded and smiled to himself. "My mother is living," said he. "Both father and mother are living." FROM TABERG TO HUSKVARNA _Friday, April fifteenth_. The boy sat awake nearly all night, but toward morning he fell asleep and then he dreamed of his father and mother. He could hardly recognise them. They had both grown gray, and had old and wrinkled faces. He asked how this had come about, and they answered that they had aged so because they had longed for him. He was both touched and astonished, for he had never believed but what they were glad to be rid of him. When the boy awoke the morning was come, with fine, clear weather. First, he himself ate a bit of bread which he found in the cabin; then he gave morning feed to both geese and cow, and opened the cowhouse door so that the cow could go over to the nearest farm. When the cow came along all by herself the neighbours would no doubt understand that something was wrong with her mistress. They would hurry over to the desolate farm to see how the old woman was getting along, and then they would find her dead body and bury it. The boy and the geese had barely raised themselves into the air, when they caught a glimpse of a high mountain, with almost perpendicular walls, and an abrupt, broken-off top; and they understood that this must be Taberg. On the summit stood Akka, with Yksi and Kaksi, Kolmi and Nelj , Viisi and Knusi, and all six goslings and waited for them. There was a rejoicing, and a cackling, and a fluttering, and a calling which no one can describe, when they saw that the goosey-gander and Dunfin had succeeded in finding Thumbietot. The woods grew pretty high up on Taberg's sides, but her highest peak was barren; and from there one could look out in all directions. If one gazed toward the east, or south, or west, then there was hardly anything to be seen but a poor highland with dark spruce-trees, brown morasses, ice-clad lakes, and bluish mountain-ridges. The boy couldn't keep from thinking it was true that the one who had created this hadn't taken very great pains with his work, but had thrown it together in a hurry. But if one glanced to the north, it was altogether different. Here it looked as if it had been worked out with the utmost care and affection. In this direction one saw only beautiful mountains, soft valleys, and winding rivers, all the way to the big Lake Vettern, which lay ice-free and transparently clear, and shone as if it wasn't filled with water but with blue light. It was Vettern that made it so pretty to look toward the north, because it looked as though a blue stream had risen up from the lake, and spread itself over land also. Groves and hills and roofs, and the spires of J nk ping City--which shimmered along Vettern's shores--lay enveloped in pale blue which caressed the eye. If there were countries in heaven, they, too, must be blue like this, thought the boy, and imagined that he had gotten a faint idea of how it must look in Paradise. Later in the day, when the geese continued their journey, they flew up toward the blue valley. They were in holiday humour; shrieked and made such a racket that no one who had ears could help hearing them. This happened to be the first really fine spring day they had had in this section. Until now, the spring had done its work under rain and bluster; and now, when it had all of a sudden become fine weather, the people were filled with such a longing after summer warmth and green woods that they could hardly perform their tasks. And when the wild geese rode by, high above the ground, cheerful and free, there wasn't one who did not drop what he had in hand, and glance at them. The first ones who saw the wild geese that day were miners on Taberg, who were digging ore at the mouth of the mine. When they heard them cackle, they paused in their drilling for ore, and one of them called to the birds: "Where are you going? Where are you going?" The geese didn't understand what he said, but the boy leaned forward over the goose-back, and answered for them: "Where there is neither pick nor hammer." When the miners heard the words, they thought it was their own longing that made the goose-cackle sound like human speech. "Take us along with you! Take us along with you!" they cried. "Not this year," shrieked the boy. "Not this year." The wild geese followed Taberg River down toward Monk Lake, and all the while they made the same racket. Here, on the narrow land-strip between Monk and Vettern lakes, lay J nk ping with its great factories. The wild geese rode first over Monksj paper mills. The noon rest hour was just over, and the big workmen were streaming down to the mill-gate. When they heard the wild geese, they stopped a moment to listen to them. "Where are you going? Where are you going?" called the workmen. The wild geese understood nothing of what they said, but the boy answered for them: "There, where there are neither machines nor steam-boxes." When the workmen heard the answer, they believed it was their own longing that made the goose-cackle sound like human speech. "Take us along with you!" "Not this year," answered the boy. "Not this year." Next, the geese rode over the well-known match factory, which lies on the shores of Vettern--large as a fortress--and lifts its high chimneys toward the sky. Not a soul moved out in the yards; but in a large hall young working-women sat and filled match-boxes. They had opened a window on account of the beautiful weather, and through it came the wild geese's call. The one who sat nearest the window, leaned out with a match-box in her hand, and cried: "Where are you going? Where are you going?" "To that land where there is no need of either light or matches," said the boy. The girl thought that what she had heard was only goose-cackle; but since she thought she had distinguished a couple of words, she called out in answer: "Take me along with you!" "Not this year," replied the boy. "Not this year." East of the factories rises J nk ping, on the most glorious spot that any city can occupy. The narrow Vettern has high, steep sand-shores, both on the eastern and western sides; but straight south, the sand-walls are broken down, just as if to make room for a large gate, through which one reaches the lake. And in the middle of the gate--with mountains to the left, and mountains to the right, with Monk Lake behind it, and Vettern in front of it--lies J nk ping. The wild geese travelled forward over the long, narrow city, and behaved themselves here just as they had done in the country. But in the city there was no one who answered them. It was not to be expected that city folks should stop out in the streets, and call to the wild geese. The trip extended further along Vettern's shores; and after a little they came to Sanna Sanitarium. Some of the patients had gone out on the veranda to enjoy the spring air, and in this way they heard the goose-cackle. "Where are you going?" asked one of them with such a feeble voice that he was scarcely heard. "To that land where there is neither sorrow nor sickness," answered the boy. "Take us along with you!" said the sick ones. "Not this year," answered the boy. "Not this year." When they had travelled still farther on, they came to Huskvarna. It lay in a valley. The mountains around it were steep and beautifully formed. A river rushed along the heights in long and narrow falls. Big workshops and factories lay below the mountain walls; and scattered over the valley-bottom were the workingmens' homes, encircled by little gardens; and in the centre of the valley lay the schoolhouse. Just as the wild geese came along, a bell rang, and a crowd of school children marched out in line. They were so numerous that the whole schoolyard was filled with them. "Where are you going? Where are you going?" the children shouted when they heard the wild geese. "Where there are neither books nor lessons to be found," answered the boy. "Take us along!" shrieked the children. "Not this year, but next," cried the boy. "Not this year, but next." THE BIG BIRD LAKE JARRO, THE WILD DUCK On the eastern shore of Vettern lies Mount Omberg; east of Omberg lies Dagmosse; east of Dagmosse lies Lake Takern. Around the whole of Takern spreads the big, even sterg ta plain. Takern is a pretty large lake and in olden times it must have been still larger. But then the people thought it covered entirely too much of the fertile plain, so they attempted to drain the water from it, that they might sow and reap on the lake-bottom. But they did not succeed in laying waste the entire lake--which had evidently been their intention--therefore it still hides a lot of land. Since the draining the lake has become so shallow that hardly at any point is it more than a couple of metres deep. The shores have become marshy and muddy; and out in the lake, little mud-islets stick up above the water's surface. Now, there is one who loves to stand with his feet in the water, if he can just keep his body and head in the air, and that is the reed. And it cannot find a better place to grow upon, than the long, shallow Takern shores, and around the little mud-islets. It thrives so well that it grows taller than a man's height, and so thick that it is almost impossible to push a boat through it. It forms a broad green enclosure around the whole lake, so that it is only accessible in a few places where the people have taken away the reeds. But if the reeds shut the people out, they give, in return, shelter and protection to many other things. In the reeds there are a lot of little dams and canals with green, still water, where duckweed and pondweed run to seed; and where gnat-eggs and blackfish and worms are hatched out in uncountable masses. And all along the shores of these little dams and canals, there are many well-concealed places, where seabirds hatch their eggs, and bring up their young without being disturbed, either by enemies or food worries. An incredible number of birds live in the Takern reeds; and more and more gather there every year, as it becomes known what a splendid abode it is. The first who settled there were the wild ducks; and they still live there by thousands. But they no longer own the entire lake, for they have been obliged to share it with swans, grebes, coots, loons, fen-ducks, and a lot of others. Takern is certainly the largest and choicest bird lake in the whole country; and the birds may count themselves lucky as long as they own such a retreat. But it is uncertain just how long they will be in control of reeds and mud-banks, for human beings cannot forget that the lake extends over a considerable portion of good and fertile soil; and every now and then the proposition to drain it comes up among them. And if these propositions were carried out, the many thousands of water-birds would be forced to move from this quarter. At the time when Nils Holgersson travelled around with the wild geese, there lived at Takern a wild duck named Jarro. He was a young bird, who had only lived one summer, one fall, and a winter; now, it was his first spring. He had just returned from South Africa, and had reached Takern in such good season that the ice was still on the lake. One evening, when he and the other young wild ducks played at racing backward and forward over the lake, a hunter fired a couple of shots at them, and Jarro was wounded in the breast. He thought he should die; but in order that the one who had shot him shouldn't get him into his power, he continued to fly as long as he possibly could. He didn't think whither he was directing his course, but only struggled to get far away. When his strength failed him, so that he could not fly any farther, he was no longer on the lake. He had flown a bit inland, and now he sank down before the entrance to one of the big farms which lie along the shores of Takern. A moment later a young farm-hand happened along. He saw Jarro,

evenings

How many times the word 'evenings' appears in the text?

Akka had commanded the wild geese to start out--two and two--in different directions, to search for him. But after a two days' hunt, whether or not they had found him, they were to meet in northwestern Sm land on a high mountain-top, which resembled an abrupt, chopped-off tower, and was called Taberg. After Akka had given them the best directions, and described carefully how they should find Taberg, they had separated. The white goosey-gander had chosen Dunfin as travelling companion, and they had flown about hither and thither with the greatest anxiety for Thumbietot. During this ramble they had heard a thrush, who sat in a tree-top, cry and wail that someone, who called himself Kidnapped-by-Crows, had made fun of him. They had talked with the thrush, and he had shown them in which direction that Kidnapped-by-Crows had travelled. Afterward, they had met a dove-cock, a starling and a drake; they had all wailed about a little culprit who had disturbed their song, and who was named Caught-by-Crows, Captured-by-Crows, and Stolen-by-Crows. In this way, they were enabled to trace Thumbietot all the way to the heather-heath in Sonnerbo township. As soon as the goosey-gander and Dunfin had found Thumbietot, they had started toward the north, in order to reach Taberg. But it had been a long road to travel, and the darkness was upon them before they had sighted the mountain top. "If we only get there by to-morrow, surely all our troubles will be over," thought the boy, and dug down into the straw to have it warmer. All the while the cow fussed and fumed in the stall. Then, all of a sudden, she began to talk to the boy. "Everything is wrong with me," said the cow. "I am neither milked nor tended. I have no night fodder in my manger, and no bed has been made under me. My mistress came here at dusk, to put things in order for me, but she felt so ill, that she had to go in soon again, and she has not returned." "It's distressing that I should be little and powerless," said the boy. "I don't believe that I am able to help you." "You can't make me believe that you are powerless because you are little," said the cow. "All the elves that I've ever heard of, were so strong that they could pull a whole load of hay and strike a cow dead with one fist." The boy couldn't help laughing at the cow. "They were a very different kind of elf from me," said he. "But I'll loosen your halter and open the door for you, so that you can go out and drink in one of the pools on the place, and then I'll try to climb up to the hayloft and throw down some hay in your manger." "Yes, that would be some help," said the cow. The boy did as he had said; and when the cow stood with a full manger in front of her, he thought that at last he should get some sleep. But he had hardly crept down in the bed before she began, anew, to talk to him. "You'll be clean put out with me if I ask you for one thing more," said the cow. "Oh, no I won't, if it's only something that I'm able to do," said the boy. "Then I will ask you to go into the cabin, directly opposite, and find out how my mistress is getting along. I fear some misfortune has come to her." "No! I can't do that," said the boy. "I dare not show myself before human beings." "'Surely you're not afraid of an old and sick woman," said the cow. "But you do not need to go into the cabin. Just stand outside the door and peep in through the crack!" "Oh! if that is all you ask of me, I'll do it of course," said the boy. With that he opened the cowshed door and went out in the yard. It was a fearful night! Neither moon nor stars shone; the wind blew a gale, and the rain came down in torrents. And the worst of all was that seven great owls sat in a row on the eaves of the cabin. It was awful just to hear them, where they sat and grumbled at the weather; but it was even worse to think what would happen to him if one of them should set eyes on him. That would be the last of him. "Pity him who is little!" said the boy as he ventured out in the yard. And he had a right to say this, for he was blown down twice before he got to the house: once the wind swept him into a pool, which was so deep that he came near drowning. But he got there nevertheless. He clambered up a pair of steps, scrambled over a threshold, and came into the hallway. The cabin door was closed, but down in one corner a large piece had been cut away, that the cat might go in and out. It was no difficulty whatever for the boy to see how things were in the cabin. He had hardly cast a glance in there before he staggered back and turned his head away. An old, gray-haired woman lay stretched out on the floor within. She neither moved nor moaned; and her face shone strangely white. It was as if an invisible moon had thrown a feeble light over it. The boy remembered that when his grandfather had died, his face had also become so strangely white-like. And he understood that the old woman who lay on the cabin floor must be dead. Death had probably come to her so suddenly that she didn't even have time to lie down on her bed. As he thought of being alone with the dead in the middle of the dark night, he was terribly afraid. He threw himself headlong down the steps, and rushed back to the cowshed. When he told the cow what he had seen in the cabin, she stopped eating. "So my mistress is dead," said she. "Then it will soon be over for me as well." "There will always be someone to look out for you," said the boy comfortingly. "Ah! you don't know," said the cow, "that I am already twice as old as a cow usually is before she is laid upon the slaughter-bench. But then I do not care to live any longer, since she, in there, can come no more to care for me." She said nothing more for a while, but the boy observed, no doubt, that she neither slept nor ate. It was not long before she began to speak again. "Is she lying on the bare floor?" she asked. "She is," said the boy. "She had a habit of coming out to the cowshed," she continued, "and talking about everything that troubled her. I understood what she said, although I could not answer her. These last few days she talked of how afraid she was lest there would be no one with her when she died. She was anxious for fear no one should close her eyes and fold her hands across her breast, after she was dead. Perhaps you'll go in and do this?" The boy hesitated. He remembered that when his grandfather had died, mother had been very careful about putting everything to rights. He knew this was something which had to be done. But, on the other hand, he felt that he didn't care go to the dead, in the ghastly night. He didn't say no; neither did he take a step toward the cowshed door. For a couple of seconds the old cow was silent--just as if she had expected an answer. But when the boy said nothing, she did not repeat her request. Instead, she began to talk with him of her mistress. There was much to tell, first and foremost, about all the children which she had brought up. They had been in the cowshed every day, and in the summer they had taken the cattle to pasture on the swamp and in the groves, so the old cow knew all about them. They had been splendid, all of them, and happy and industrious. A cow knew well enough what her caretakers were good for. There was also much to be said about the farm. It had not always been as poor as it was now. It was very large--although the greater part of it consisted of swamps and stony groves. There was not much room for fields, but there was plenty of good fodder everywhere. At one time there had been a cow for every stall in the cowshed; and the oxshed, which was now empty, had at one time been filled with oxen. And then there was life and gayety, both in cabin and cowhouse. When the mistress opened the cowshed door she would hum and sing, and all the cows lowed with gladness when they heard her coming. But the good man had died when the children were so small that they could not be of any assistance, and the mistress had to take charge of the farm, and all the work and responsibility. She had been as strong as a man, and had both ploughed and reaped. In the evenings, when she came into the cowshed to milk, sometimes she was so tired that she wept. Then she dashed away her tears, and was cheerful again. "It doesn't matter. Good times are coming again for me too, if only my children grow up. Yes, if they only grow up." But as soon as the children were grown, a strange longing came over them. They didn't want to stay at home, but went away to a strange country. Their mother never got any help from them. A couple of her children were married before they went away, and they had left their children behind, in the old home. And now these children followed the mistress in the cowshed, just as her own had done. They tended the cows, and were fine, good folk. And, in the evenings, when the mistress was so tired out that she could fall asleep in the middle of the milking, she would rouse herself again to renewed courage by thinking of them. "Good times are coming for me, too," said she--and shook off sleep--"when once they are grown." But when these children grew up, they went away to their parents in the strange land. No one came back--no one stayed at home--the old mistress was left alone on the farm. Probably she had never asked them to remain with her. "Think you, R dlinna, that I would ask them to stay here with me, when they can go out in the world and have things comfortable?" she would say as she stood in the stall with the old cow. "Here in Sm land they have only poverty to look forward to." But when the last grandchild was gone, it was all up with the mistress. All at once she became bent and gray, and tottered as she walked; as if she no longer had the strength to move about. She stopped working. She did not care to look after the farm, but let everything go to rack and ruin. She didn't repair the houses; and she sold both the cows and the oxen. The only one that she kept was the old cow who now talked with Thumbietot. Her she let live because all the children had tended her. She could have taken maids and farm-hands into her service, who would have helped her with the work, but she couldn't bear to see strangers around her, since her own had deserted her. Perhaps she was better satisfied to let the farm go to ruin, since none of her children were coming back to take it after she was gone. She did not mind that she herself became poor, because she didn't value that which was only hers. But she was troubled lest the children should find out how hard she had it. "If only the children do not hear of this! If only the children do not hear of this!" she sighed as she tottered through the cowhouse. The children wrote constantly, and begged her to come out to them; but this she did not wish. She didn't want to see the land that had taken them from her. She was angry with it. "It's foolish of me, perhaps, that I do not like that land which has been so good for them," said she. "But I don't want to see it." She never thought of anything but the children, and of this--that they must needs have gone. When summer came, she led the cow out to graze in the big swamp. All day she would sit on the edge of the swamp, her hands in her lap; and on the way home she would say: "You see, R dlinna, if there had been large, rich fields here, in place of these barren swamps, then there would have been no need for them to leave." She could become furious with the swamp which spread out so big, and did no good. She could sit and talk about how it was the swamp's fault that the children had left her. This last evening she had been more trembly and feeble than ever before. She could not even do the milking. She had leaned against the manger and talked about two strangers who had been to see her, and had asked if they might buy the swamp. They wanted to drain it, and sow and raise grain on it. This had made her both anxious and glad. "Do you hear, R dlinna," she had said, "do you hear they said that grain can grow on the swamp? Now I shall write to the children to come home. Now they'll not have to stay away any longer; for now they can get their bread here at home." It was this that she had gone into the cabin to do-- The boy heard no more of what the old cow said. He had opened the cowhouse door and gone across the yard, and in to the dead whom he had but lately been so afraid of. It was not so poor in the cabin as he had expected. It was well supplied with the sort of things one generally finds among those who have relatives in America. In a corner there was an American rocking chair; on the table before the window lay a brocaded plush cover; there was a pretty spread on the bed; on the walls, in carved-wood frames, hung the photographs of the children and grandchildren who had gone away; on the bureau stood high vases and a couple of candlesticks, with thick, spiral candles in them. The boy searched for a matchbox and lighted these candles, not because he needed more light than he already had; but because he thought that this was one way to honour the dead. Then he went up to her, closed her eyes, folded her hands across her breast, and stroked back the thin gray hair from her face. He thought no more about being afraid of her. He was so deeply grieved because she had been forced to live out her old age in loneliness and longing. He, at least, would watch over her dead body this night. He hunted up the psalm book, and seated himself to read a couple of psalms in an undertone. But in the middle of the reading he paused--because he had begun to think about his mother and father. Think, that parents can long so for their children! This he had never known. Think, that life can be as though it was over for them when the children are away! Think, if those at home longed for him in the same way that this old peasant woman had longed! This thought made him happy, but he dared not believe in it. He had not been such a one that anybody could long for him. But what he had not been, perhaps he could become. Round about him he saw the portraits of those who were away. They were big, strong men and women with earnest faces. There were brides in long veils, and gentlemen in fine clothes; and there were children with waved hair and pretty white dresses. And he thought that they all stared blindly into vacancy--and did not want to see. "Poor you!" said the boy to the portraits. "Your mother is dead. You cannot make reparation now, because you went away from her. But my mother is living!" Here he paused, and nodded and smiled to himself. "My mother is living," said he. "Both father and mother are living." FROM TABERG TO HUSKVARNA _Friday, April fifteenth_. The boy sat awake nearly all night, but toward morning he fell asleep and then he dreamed of his father and mother. He could hardly recognise them. They had both grown gray, and had old and wrinkled faces. He asked how this had come about, and they answered that they had aged so because they had longed for him. He was both touched and astonished, for he had never believed but what they were glad to be rid of him. When the boy awoke the morning was come, with fine, clear weather. First, he himself ate a bit of bread which he found in the cabin; then he gave morning feed to both geese and cow, and opened the cowhouse door so that the cow could go over to the nearest farm. When the cow came along all by herself the neighbours would no doubt understand that something was wrong with her mistress. They would hurry over to the desolate farm to see how the old woman was getting along, and then they would find her dead body and bury it. The boy and the geese had barely raised themselves into the air, when they caught a glimpse of a high mountain, with almost perpendicular walls, and an abrupt, broken-off top; and they understood that this must be Taberg. On the summit stood Akka, with Yksi and Kaksi, Kolmi and Nelj , Viisi and Knusi, and all six goslings and waited for them. There was a rejoicing, and a cackling, and a fluttering, and a calling which no one can describe, when they saw that the goosey-gander and Dunfin had succeeded in finding Thumbietot. The woods grew pretty high up on Taberg's sides, but her highest peak was barren; and from there one could look out in all directions. If one gazed toward the east, or south, or west, then there was hardly anything to be seen but a poor highland with dark spruce-trees, brown morasses, ice-clad lakes, and bluish mountain-ridges. The boy couldn't keep from thinking it was true that the one who had created this hadn't taken very great pains with his work, but had thrown it together in a hurry. But if one glanced to the north, it was altogether different. Here it looked as if it had been worked out with the utmost care and affection. In this direction one saw only beautiful mountains, soft valleys, and winding rivers, all the way to the big Lake Vettern, which lay ice-free and transparently clear, and shone as if it wasn't filled with water but with blue light. It was Vettern that made it so pretty to look toward the north, because it looked as though a blue stream had risen up from the lake, and spread itself over land also. Groves and hills and roofs, and the spires of J nk ping City--which shimmered along Vettern's shores--lay enveloped in pale blue which caressed the eye. If there were countries in heaven, they, too, must be blue like this, thought the boy, and imagined that he had gotten a faint idea of how it must look in Paradise. Later in the day, when the geese continued their journey, they flew up toward the blue valley. They were in holiday humour; shrieked and made such a racket that no one who had ears could help hearing them. This happened to be the first really fine spring day they had had in this section. Until now, the spring had done its work under rain and bluster; and now, when it had all of a sudden become fine weather, the people were filled with such a longing after summer warmth and green woods that they could hardly perform their tasks. And when the wild geese rode by, high above the ground, cheerful and free, there wasn't one who did not drop what he had in hand, and glance at them. The first ones who saw the wild geese that day were miners on Taberg, who were digging ore at the mouth of the mine. When they heard them cackle, they paused in their drilling for ore, and one of them called to the birds: "Where are you going? Where are you going?" The geese didn't understand what he said, but the boy leaned forward over the goose-back, and answered for them: "Where there is neither pick nor hammer." When the miners heard the words, they thought it was their own longing that made the goose-cackle sound like human speech. "Take us along with you! Take us along with you!" they cried. "Not this year," shrieked the boy. "Not this year." The wild geese followed Taberg River down toward Monk Lake, and all the while they made the same racket. Here, on the narrow land-strip between Monk and Vettern lakes, lay J nk ping with its great factories. The wild geese rode first over Monksj paper mills. The noon rest hour was just over, and the big workmen were streaming down to the mill-gate. When they heard the wild geese, they stopped a moment to listen to them. "Where are you going? Where are you going?" called the workmen. The wild geese understood nothing of what they said, but the boy answered for them: "There, where there are neither machines nor steam-boxes." When the workmen heard the answer, they believed it was their own longing that made the goose-cackle sound like human speech. "Take us along with you!" "Not this year," answered the boy. "Not this year." Next, the geese rode over the well-known match factory, which lies on the shores of Vettern--large as a fortress--and lifts its high chimneys toward the sky. Not a soul moved out in the yards; but in a large hall young working-women sat and filled match-boxes. They had opened a window on account of the beautiful weather, and through it came the wild geese's call. The one who sat nearest the window, leaned out with a match-box in her hand, and cried: "Where are you going? Where are you going?" "To that land where there is no need of either light or matches," said the boy. The girl thought that what she had heard was only goose-cackle; but since she thought she had distinguished a couple of words, she called out in answer: "Take me along with you!" "Not this year," replied the boy. "Not this year." East of the factories rises J nk ping, on the most glorious spot that any city can occupy. The narrow Vettern has high, steep sand-shores, both on the eastern and western sides; but straight south, the sand-walls are broken down, just as if to make room for a large gate, through which one reaches the lake. And in the middle of the gate--with mountains to the left, and mountains to the right, with Monk Lake behind it, and Vettern in front of it--lies J nk ping. The wild geese travelled forward over the long, narrow city, and behaved themselves here just as they had done in the country. But in the city there was no one who answered them. It was not to be expected that city folks should stop out in the streets, and call to the wild geese. The trip extended further along Vettern's shores; and after a little they came to Sanna Sanitarium. Some of the patients had gone out on the veranda to enjoy the spring air, and in this way they heard the goose-cackle. "Where are you going?" asked one of them with such a feeble voice that he was scarcely heard. "To that land where there is neither sorrow nor sickness," answered the boy. "Take us along with you!" said the sick ones. "Not this year," answered the boy. "Not this year." When they had travelled still farther on, they came to Huskvarna. It lay in a valley. The mountains around it were steep and beautifully formed. A river rushed along the heights in long and narrow falls. Big workshops and factories lay below the mountain walls; and scattered over the valley-bottom were the workingmens' homes, encircled by little gardens; and in the centre of the valley lay the schoolhouse. Just as the wild geese came along, a bell rang, and a crowd of school children marched out in line. They were so numerous that the whole schoolyard was filled with them. "Where are you going? Where are you going?" the children shouted when they heard the wild geese. "Where there are neither books nor lessons to be found," answered the boy. "Take us along!" shrieked the children. "Not this year, but next," cried the boy. "Not this year, but next." THE BIG BIRD LAKE JARRO, THE WILD DUCK On the eastern shore of Vettern lies Mount Omberg; east of Omberg lies Dagmosse; east of Dagmosse lies Lake Takern. Around the whole of Takern spreads the big, even sterg ta plain. Takern is a pretty large lake and in olden times it must have been still larger. But then the people thought it covered entirely too much of the fertile plain, so they attempted to drain the water from it, that they might sow and reap on the lake-bottom. But they did not succeed in laying waste the entire lake--which had evidently been their intention--therefore it still hides a lot of land. Since the draining the lake has become so shallow that hardly at any point is it more than a couple of metres deep. The shores have become marshy and muddy; and out in the lake, little mud-islets stick up above the water's surface. Now, there is one who loves to stand with his feet in the water, if he can just keep his body and head in the air, and that is the reed. And it cannot find a better place to grow upon, than the long, shallow Takern shores, and around the little mud-islets. It thrives so well that it grows taller than a man's height, and so thick that it is almost impossible to push a boat through it. It forms a broad green enclosure around the whole lake, so that it is only accessible in a few places where the people have taken away the reeds. But if the reeds shut the people out, they give, in return, shelter and protection to many other things. In the reeds there are a lot of little dams and canals with green, still water, where duckweed and pondweed run to seed; and where gnat-eggs and blackfish and worms are hatched out in uncountable masses. And all along the shores of these little dams and canals, there are many well-concealed places, where seabirds hatch their eggs, and bring up their young without being disturbed, either by enemies or food worries. An incredible number of birds live in the Takern reeds; and more and more gather there every year, as it becomes known what a splendid abode it is. The first who settled there were the wild ducks; and they still live there by thousands. But they no longer own the entire lake, for they have been obliged to share it with swans, grebes, coots, loons, fen-ducks, and a lot of others. Takern is certainly the largest and choicest bird lake in the whole country; and the birds may count themselves lucky as long as they own such a retreat. But it is uncertain just how long they will be in control of reeds and mud-banks, for human beings cannot forget that the lake extends over a considerable portion of good and fertile soil; and every now and then the proposition to drain it comes up among them. And if these propositions were carried out, the many thousands of water-birds would be forced to move from this quarter. At the time when Nils Holgersson travelled around with the wild geese, there lived at Takern a wild duck named Jarro. He was a young bird, who had only lived one summer, one fall, and a winter; now, it was his first spring. He had just returned from South Africa, and had reached Takern in such good season that the ice was still on the lake. One evening, when he and the other young wild ducks played at racing backward and forward over the lake, a hunter fired a couple of shots at them, and Jarro was wounded in the breast. He thought he should die; but in order that the one who had shot him shouldn't get him into his power, he continued to fly as long as he possibly could. He didn't think whither he was directing his course, but only struggled to get far away. When his strength failed him, so that he could not fly any farther, he was no longer on the lake. He had flown a bit inland, and now he sank down before the entrance to one of the big farms which lie along the shores of Takern. A moment later a young farm-hand happened along. He saw Jarro,

solemn

How many times the word 'solemn' appears in the text?

Akka had commanded the wild geese to start out--two and two--in different directions, to search for him. But after a two days' hunt, whether or not they had found him, they were to meet in northwestern Sm land on a high mountain-top, which resembled an abrupt, chopped-off tower, and was called Taberg. After Akka had given them the best directions, and described carefully how they should find Taberg, they had separated. The white goosey-gander had chosen Dunfin as travelling companion, and they had flown about hither and thither with the greatest anxiety for Thumbietot. During this ramble they had heard a thrush, who sat in a tree-top, cry and wail that someone, who called himself Kidnapped-by-Crows, had made fun of him. They had talked with the thrush, and he had shown them in which direction that Kidnapped-by-Crows had travelled. Afterward, they had met a dove-cock, a starling and a drake; they had all wailed about a little culprit who had disturbed their song, and who was named Caught-by-Crows, Captured-by-Crows, and Stolen-by-Crows. In this way, they were enabled to trace Thumbietot all the way to the heather-heath in Sonnerbo township. As soon as the goosey-gander and Dunfin had found Thumbietot, they had started toward the north, in order to reach Taberg. But it had been a long road to travel, and the darkness was upon them before they had sighted the mountain top. "If we only get there by to-morrow, surely all our troubles will be over," thought the boy, and dug down into the straw to have it warmer. All the while the cow fussed and fumed in the stall. Then, all of a sudden, she began to talk to the boy. "Everything is wrong with me," said the cow. "I am neither milked nor tended. I have no night fodder in my manger, and no bed has been made under me. My mistress came here at dusk, to put things in order for me, but she felt so ill, that she had to go in soon again, and she has not returned." "It's distressing that I should be little and powerless," said the boy. "I don't believe that I am able to help you." "You can't make me believe that you are powerless because you are little," said the cow. "All the elves that I've ever heard of, were so strong that they could pull a whole load of hay and strike a cow dead with one fist." The boy couldn't help laughing at the cow. "They were a very different kind of elf from me," said he. "But I'll loosen your halter and open the door for you, so that you can go out and drink in one of the pools on the place, and then I'll try to climb up to the hayloft and throw down some hay in your manger." "Yes, that would be some help," said the cow. The boy did as he had said; and when the cow stood with a full manger in front of her, he thought that at last he should get some sleep. But he had hardly crept down in the bed before she began, anew, to talk to him. "You'll be clean put out with me if I ask you for one thing more," said the cow. "Oh, no I won't, if it's only something that I'm able to do," said the boy. "Then I will ask you to go into the cabin, directly opposite, and find out how my mistress is getting along. I fear some misfortune has come to her." "No! I can't do that," said the boy. "I dare not show myself before human beings." "'Surely you're not afraid of an old and sick woman," said the cow. "But you do not need to go into the cabin. Just stand outside the door and peep in through the crack!" "Oh! if that is all you ask of me, I'll do it of course," said the boy. With that he opened the cowshed door and went out in the yard. It was a fearful night! Neither moon nor stars shone; the wind blew a gale, and the rain came down in torrents. And the worst of all was that seven great owls sat in a row on the eaves of the cabin. It was awful just to hear them, where they sat and grumbled at the weather; but it was even worse to think what would happen to him if one of them should set eyes on him. That would be the last of him. "Pity him who is little!" said the boy as he ventured out in the yard. And he had a right to say this, for he was blown down twice before he got to the house: once the wind swept him into a pool, which was so deep that he came near drowning. But he got there nevertheless. He clambered up a pair of steps, scrambled over a threshold, and came into the hallway. The cabin door was closed, but down in one corner a large piece had been cut away, that the cat might go in and out. It was no difficulty whatever for the boy to see how things were in the cabin. He had hardly cast a glance in there before he staggered back and turned his head away. An old, gray-haired woman lay stretched out on the floor within. She neither moved nor moaned; and her face shone strangely white. It was as if an invisible moon had thrown a feeble light over it. The boy remembered that when his grandfather had died, his face had also become so strangely white-like. And he understood that the old woman who lay on the cabin floor must be dead. Death had probably come to her so suddenly that she didn't even have time to lie down on her bed. As he thought of being alone with the dead in the middle of the dark night, he was terribly afraid. He threw himself headlong down the steps, and rushed back to the cowshed. When he told the cow what he had seen in the cabin, she stopped eating. "So my mistress is dead," said she. "Then it will soon be over for me as well." "There will always be someone to look out for you," said the boy comfortingly. "Ah! you don't know," said the cow, "that I am already twice as old as a cow usually is before she is laid upon the slaughter-bench. But then I do not care to live any longer, since she, in there, can come no more to care for me." She said nothing more for a while, but the boy observed, no doubt, that she neither slept nor ate. It was not long before she began to speak again. "Is she lying on the bare floor?" she asked. "She is," said the boy. "She had a habit of coming out to the cowshed," she continued, "and talking about everything that troubled her. I understood what she said, although I could not answer her. These last few days she talked of how afraid she was lest there would be no one with her when she died. She was anxious for fear no one should close her eyes and fold her hands across her breast, after she was dead. Perhaps you'll go in and do this?" The boy hesitated. He remembered that when his grandfather had died, mother had been very careful about putting everything to rights. He knew this was something which had to be done. But, on the other hand, he felt that he didn't care go to the dead, in the ghastly night. He didn't say no; neither did he take a step toward the cowshed door. For a couple of seconds the old cow was silent--just as if she had expected an answer. But when the boy said nothing, she did not repeat her request. Instead, she began to talk with him of her mistress. There was much to tell, first and foremost, about all the children which she had brought up. They had been in the cowshed every day, and in the summer they had taken the cattle to pasture on the swamp and in the groves, so the old cow knew all about them. They had been splendid, all of them, and happy and industrious. A cow knew well enough what her caretakers were good for. There was also much to be said about the farm. It had not always been as poor as it was now. It was very large--although the greater part of it consisted of swamps and stony groves. There was not much room for fields, but there was plenty of good fodder everywhere. At one time there had been a cow for every stall in the cowshed; and the oxshed, which was now empty, had at one time been filled with oxen. And then there was life and gayety, both in cabin and cowhouse. When the mistress opened the cowshed door she would hum and sing, and all the cows lowed with gladness when they heard her coming. But the good man had died when the children were so small that they could not be of any assistance, and the mistress had to take charge of the farm, and all the work and responsibility. She had been as strong as a man, and had both ploughed and reaped. In the evenings, when she came into the cowshed to milk, sometimes she was so tired that she wept. Then she dashed away her tears, and was cheerful again. "It doesn't matter. Good times are coming again for me too, if only my children grow up. Yes, if they only grow up." But as soon as the children were grown, a strange longing came over them. They didn't want to stay at home, but went away to a strange country. Their mother never got any help from them. A couple of her children were married before they went away, and they had left their children behind, in the old home. And now these children followed the mistress in the cowshed, just as her own had done. They tended the cows, and were fine, good folk. And, in the evenings, when the mistress was so tired out that she could fall asleep in the middle of the milking, she would rouse herself again to renewed courage by thinking of them. "Good times are coming for me, too," said she--and shook off sleep--"when once they are grown." But when these children grew up, they went away to their parents in the strange land. No one came back--no one stayed at home--the old mistress was left alone on the farm. Probably she had never asked them to remain with her. "Think you, R dlinna, that I would ask them to stay here with me, when they can go out in the world and have things comfortable?" she would say as she stood in the stall with the old cow. "Here in Sm land they have only poverty to look forward to." But when the last grandchild was gone, it was all up with the mistress. All at once she became bent and gray, and tottered as she walked; as if she no longer had the strength to move about. She stopped working. She did not care to look after the farm, but let everything go to rack and ruin. She didn't repair the houses; and she sold both the cows and the oxen. The only one that she kept was the old cow who now talked with Thumbietot. Her she let live because all the children had tended her. She could have taken maids and farm-hands into her service, who would have helped her with the work, but she couldn't bear to see strangers around her, since her own had deserted her. Perhaps she was better satisfied to let the farm go to ruin, since none of her children were coming back to take it after she was gone. She did not mind that she herself became poor, because she didn't value that which was only hers. But she was troubled lest the children should find out how hard she had it. "If only the children do not hear of this! If only the children do not hear of this!" she sighed as she tottered through the cowhouse. The children wrote constantly, and begged her to come out to them; but this she did not wish. She didn't want to see the land that had taken them from her. She was angry with it. "It's foolish of me, perhaps, that I do not like that land which has been so good for them," said she. "But I don't want to see it." She never thought of anything but the children, and of this--that they must needs have gone. When summer came, she led the cow out to graze in the big swamp. All day she would sit on the edge of the swamp, her hands in her lap; and on the way home she would say: "You see, R dlinna, if there had been large, rich fields here, in place of these barren swamps, then there would have been no need for them to leave." She could become furious with the swamp which spread out so big, and did no good. She could sit and talk about how it was the swamp's fault that the children had left her. This last evening she had been more trembly and feeble than ever before. She could not even do the milking. She had leaned against the manger and talked about two strangers who had been to see her, and had asked if they might buy the swamp. They wanted to drain it, and sow and raise grain on it. This had made her both anxious and glad. "Do you hear, R dlinna," she had said, "do you hear they said that grain can grow on the swamp? Now I shall write to the children to come home. Now they'll not have to stay away any longer; for now they can get their bread here at home." It was this that she had gone into the cabin to do-- The boy heard no more of what the old cow said. He had opened the cowhouse door and gone across the yard, and in to the dead whom he had but lately been so afraid of. It was not so poor in the cabin as he had expected. It was well supplied with the sort of things one generally finds among those who have relatives in America. In a corner there was an American rocking chair; on the table before the window lay a brocaded plush cover; there was a pretty spread on the bed; on the walls, in carved-wood frames, hung the photographs of the children and grandchildren who had gone away; on the bureau stood high vases and a couple of candlesticks, with thick, spiral candles in them. The boy searched for a matchbox and lighted these candles, not because he needed more light than he already had; but because he thought that this was one way to honour the dead. Then he went up to her, closed her eyes, folded her hands across her breast, and stroked back the thin gray hair from her face. He thought no more about being afraid of her. He was so deeply grieved because she had been forced to live out her old age in loneliness and longing. He, at least, would watch over her dead body this night. He hunted up the psalm book, and seated himself to read a couple of psalms in an undertone. But in the middle of the reading he paused--because he had begun to think about his mother and father. Think, that parents can long so for their children! This he had never known. Think, that life can be as though it was over for them when the children are away! Think, if those at home longed for him in the same way that this old peasant woman had longed! This thought made him happy, but he dared not believe in it. He had not been such a one that anybody could long for him. But what he had not been, perhaps he could become. Round about him he saw the portraits of those who were away. They were big, strong men and women with earnest faces. There were brides in long veils, and gentlemen in fine clothes; and there were children with waved hair and pretty white dresses. And he thought that they all stared blindly into vacancy--and did not want to see. "Poor you!" said the boy to the portraits. "Your mother is dead. You cannot make reparation now, because you went away from her. But my mother is living!" Here he paused, and nodded and smiled to himself. "My mother is living," said he. "Both father and mother are living." FROM TABERG TO HUSKVARNA _Friday, April fifteenth_. The boy sat awake nearly all night, but toward morning he fell asleep and then he dreamed of his father and mother. He could hardly recognise them. They had both grown gray, and had old and wrinkled faces. He asked how this had come about, and they answered that they had aged so because they had longed for him. He was both touched and astonished, for he had never believed but what they were glad to be rid of him. When the boy awoke the morning was come, with fine, clear weather. First, he himself ate a bit of bread which he found in the cabin; then he gave morning feed to both geese and cow, and opened the cowhouse door so that the cow could go over to the nearest farm. When the cow came along all by herself the neighbours would no doubt understand that something was wrong with her mistress. They would hurry over to the desolate farm to see how the old woman was getting along, and then they would find her dead body and bury it. The boy and the geese had barely raised themselves into the air, when they caught a glimpse of a high mountain, with almost perpendicular walls, and an abrupt, broken-off top; and they understood that this must be Taberg. On the summit stood Akka, with Yksi and Kaksi, Kolmi and Nelj , Viisi and Knusi, and all six goslings and waited for them. There was a rejoicing, and a cackling, and a fluttering, and a calling which no one can describe, when they saw that the goosey-gander and Dunfin had succeeded in finding Thumbietot. The woods grew pretty high up on Taberg's sides, but her highest peak was barren; and from there one could look out in all directions. If one gazed toward the east, or south, or west, then there was hardly anything to be seen but a poor highland with dark spruce-trees, brown morasses, ice-clad lakes, and bluish mountain-ridges. The boy couldn't keep from thinking it was true that the one who had created this hadn't taken very great pains with his work, but had thrown it together in a hurry. But if one glanced to the north, it was altogether different. Here it looked as if it had been worked out with the utmost care and affection. In this direction one saw only beautiful mountains, soft valleys, and winding rivers, all the way to the big Lake Vettern, which lay ice-free and transparently clear, and shone as if it wasn't filled with water but with blue light. It was Vettern that made it so pretty to look toward the north, because it looked as though a blue stream had risen up from the lake, and spread itself over land also. Groves and hills and roofs, and the spires of J nk ping City--which shimmered along Vettern's shores--lay enveloped in pale blue which caressed the eye. If there were countries in heaven, they, too, must be blue like this, thought the boy, and imagined that he had gotten a faint idea of how it must look in Paradise. Later in the day, when the geese continued their journey, they flew up toward the blue valley. They were in holiday humour; shrieked and made such a racket that no one who had ears could help hearing them. This happened to be the first really fine spring day they had had in this section. Until now, the spring had done its work under rain and bluster; and now, when it had all of a sudden become fine weather, the people were filled with such a longing after summer warmth and green woods that they could hardly perform their tasks. And when the wild geese rode by, high above the ground, cheerful and free, there wasn't one who did not drop what he had in hand, and glance at them. The first ones who saw the wild geese that day were miners on Taberg, who were digging ore at the mouth of the mine. When they heard them cackle, they paused in their drilling for ore, and one of them called to the birds: "Where are you going? Where are you going?" The geese didn't understand what he said, but the boy leaned forward over the goose-back, and answered for them: "Where there is neither pick nor hammer." When the miners heard the words, they thought it was their own longing that made the goose-cackle sound like human speech. "Take us along with you! Take us along with you!" they cried. "Not this year," shrieked the boy. "Not this year." The wild geese followed Taberg River down toward Monk Lake, and all the while they made the same racket. Here, on the narrow land-strip between Monk and Vettern lakes, lay J nk ping with its great factories. The wild geese rode first over Monksj paper mills. The noon rest hour was just over, and the big workmen were streaming down to the mill-gate. When they heard the wild geese, they stopped a moment to listen to them. "Where are you going? Where are you going?" called the workmen. The wild geese understood nothing of what they said, but the boy answered for them: "There, where there are neither machines nor steam-boxes." When the workmen heard the answer, they believed it was their own longing that made the goose-cackle sound like human speech. "Take us along with you!" "Not this year," answered the boy. "Not this year." Next, the geese rode over the well-known match factory, which lies on the shores of Vettern--large as a fortress--and lifts its high chimneys toward the sky. Not a soul moved out in the yards; but in a large hall young working-women sat and filled match-boxes. They had opened a window on account of the beautiful weather, and through it came the wild geese's call. The one who sat nearest the window, leaned out with a match-box in her hand, and cried: "Where are you going? Where are you going?" "To that land where there is no need of either light or matches," said the boy. The girl thought that what she had heard was only goose-cackle; but since she thought she had distinguished a couple of words, she called out in answer: "Take me along with you!" "Not this year," replied the boy. "Not this year." East of the factories rises J nk ping, on the most glorious spot that any city can occupy. The narrow Vettern has high, steep sand-shores, both on the eastern and western sides; but straight south, the sand-walls are broken down, just as if to make room for a large gate, through which one reaches the lake. And in the middle of the gate--with mountains to the left, and mountains to the right, with Monk Lake behind it, and Vettern in front of it--lies J nk ping. The wild geese travelled forward over the long, narrow city, and behaved themselves here just as they had done in the country. But in the city there was no one who answered them. It was not to be expected that city folks should stop out in the streets, and call to the wild geese. The trip extended further along Vettern's shores; and after a little they came to Sanna Sanitarium. Some of the patients had gone out on the veranda to enjoy the spring air, and in this way they heard the goose-cackle. "Where are you going?" asked one of them with such a feeble voice that he was scarcely heard. "To that land where there is neither sorrow nor sickness," answered the boy. "Take us along with you!" said the sick ones. "Not this year," answered the boy. "Not this year." When they had travelled still farther on, they came to Huskvarna. It lay in a valley. The mountains around it were steep and beautifully formed. A river rushed along the heights in long and narrow falls. Big workshops and factories lay below the mountain walls; and scattered over the valley-bottom were the workingmens' homes, encircled by little gardens; and in the centre of the valley lay the schoolhouse. Just as the wild geese came along, a bell rang, and a crowd of school children marched out in line. They were so numerous that the whole schoolyard was filled with them. "Where are you going? Where are you going?" the children shouted when they heard the wild geese. "Where there are neither books nor lessons to be found," answered the boy. "Take us along!" shrieked the children. "Not this year, but next," cried the boy. "Not this year, but next." THE BIG BIRD LAKE JARRO, THE WILD DUCK On the eastern shore of Vettern lies Mount Omberg; east of Omberg lies Dagmosse; east of Dagmosse lies Lake Takern. Around the whole of Takern spreads the big, even sterg ta plain. Takern is a pretty large lake and in olden times it must have been still larger. But then the people thought it covered entirely too much of the fertile plain, so they attempted to drain the water from it, that they might sow and reap on the lake-bottom. But they did not succeed in laying waste the entire lake--which had evidently been their intention--therefore it still hides a lot of land. Since the draining the lake has become so shallow that hardly at any point is it more than a couple of metres deep. The shores have become marshy and muddy; and out in the lake, little mud-islets stick up above the water's surface. Now, there is one who loves to stand with his feet in the water, if he can just keep his body and head in the air, and that is the reed. And it cannot find a better place to grow upon, than the long, shallow Takern shores, and around the little mud-islets. It thrives so well that it grows taller than a man's height, and so thick that it is almost impossible to push a boat through it. It forms a broad green enclosure around the whole lake, so that it is only accessible in a few places where the people have taken away the reeds. But if the reeds shut the people out, they give, in return, shelter and protection to many other things. In the reeds there are a lot of little dams and canals with green, still water, where duckweed and pondweed run to seed; and where gnat-eggs and blackfish and worms are hatched out in uncountable masses. And all along the shores of these little dams and canals, there are many well-concealed places, where seabirds hatch their eggs, and bring up their young without being disturbed, either by enemies or food worries. An incredible number of birds live in the Takern reeds; and more and more gather there every year, as it becomes known what a splendid abode it is. The first who settled there were the wild ducks; and they still live there by thousands. But they no longer own the entire lake, for they have been obliged to share it with swans, grebes, coots, loons, fen-ducks, and a lot of others. Takern is certainly the largest and choicest bird lake in the whole country; and the birds may count themselves lucky as long as they own such a retreat. But it is uncertain just how long they will be in control of reeds and mud-banks, for human beings cannot forget that the lake extends over a considerable portion of good and fertile soil; and every now and then the proposition to drain it comes up among them. And if these propositions were carried out, the many thousands of water-birds would be forced to move from this quarter. At the time when Nils Holgersson travelled around with the wild geese, there lived at Takern a wild duck named Jarro. He was a young bird, who had only lived one summer, one fall, and a winter; now, it was his first spring. He had just returned from South Africa, and had reached Takern in such good season that the ice was still on the lake. One evening, when he and the other young wild ducks played at racing backward and forward over the lake, a hunter fired a couple of shots at them, and Jarro was wounded in the breast. He thought he should die; but in order that the one who had shot him shouldn't get him into his power, he continued to fly as long as he possibly could. He didn't think whither he was directing his course, but only struggled to get far away. When his strength failed him, so that he could not fly any farther, he was no longer on the lake. He had flown a bit inland, and now he sank down before the entrance to one of the big farms which lie along the shores of Takern. A moment later a young farm-hand happened along. He saw Jarro,

difficulty

How many times the word 'difficulty' appears in the text?

Akka had commanded the wild geese to start out--two and two--in different directions, to search for him. But after a two days' hunt, whether or not they had found him, they were to meet in northwestern Sm land on a high mountain-top, which resembled an abrupt, chopped-off tower, and was called Taberg. After Akka had given them the best directions, and described carefully how they should find Taberg, they had separated. The white goosey-gander had chosen Dunfin as travelling companion, and they had flown about hither and thither with the greatest anxiety for Thumbietot. During this ramble they had heard a thrush, who sat in a tree-top, cry and wail that someone, who called himself Kidnapped-by-Crows, had made fun of him. They had talked with the thrush, and he had shown them in which direction that Kidnapped-by-Crows had travelled. Afterward, they had met a dove-cock, a starling and a drake; they had all wailed about a little culprit who had disturbed their song, and who was named Caught-by-Crows, Captured-by-Crows, and Stolen-by-Crows. In this way, they were enabled to trace Thumbietot all the way to the heather-heath in Sonnerbo township. As soon as the goosey-gander and Dunfin had found Thumbietot, they had started toward the north, in order to reach Taberg. But it had been a long road to travel, and the darkness was upon them before they had sighted the mountain top. "If we only get there by to-morrow, surely all our troubles will be over," thought the boy, and dug down into the straw to have it warmer. All the while the cow fussed and fumed in the stall. Then, all of a sudden, she began to talk to the boy. "Everything is wrong with me," said the cow. "I am neither milked nor tended. I have no night fodder in my manger, and no bed has been made under me. My mistress came here at dusk, to put things in order for me, but she felt so ill, that she had to go in soon again, and she has not returned." "It's distressing that I should be little and powerless," said the boy. "I don't believe that I am able to help you." "You can't make me believe that you are powerless because you are little," said the cow. "All the elves that I've ever heard of, were so strong that they could pull a whole load of hay and strike a cow dead with one fist." The boy couldn't help laughing at the cow. "They were a very different kind of elf from me," said he. "But I'll loosen your halter and open the door for you, so that you can go out and drink in one of the pools on the place, and then I'll try to climb up to the hayloft and throw down some hay in your manger." "Yes, that would be some help," said the cow. The boy did as he had said; and when the cow stood with a full manger in front of her, he thought that at last he should get some sleep. But he had hardly crept down in the bed before she began, anew, to talk to him. "You'll be clean put out with me if I ask you for one thing more," said the cow. "Oh, no I won't, if it's only something that I'm able to do," said the boy. "Then I will ask you to go into the cabin, directly opposite, and find out how my mistress is getting along. I fear some misfortune has come to her." "No! I can't do that," said the boy. "I dare not show myself before human beings." "'Surely you're not afraid of an old and sick woman," said the cow. "But you do not need to go into the cabin. Just stand outside the door and peep in through the crack!" "Oh! if that is all you ask of me, I'll do it of course," said the boy. With that he opened the cowshed door and went out in the yard. It was a fearful night! Neither moon nor stars shone; the wind blew a gale, and the rain came down in torrents. And the worst of all was that seven great owls sat in a row on the eaves of the cabin. It was awful just to hear them, where they sat and grumbled at the weather; but it was even worse to think what would happen to him if one of them should set eyes on him. That would be the last of him. "Pity him who is little!" said the boy as he ventured out in the yard. And he had a right to say this, for he was blown down twice before he got to the house: once the wind swept him into a pool, which was so deep that he came near drowning. But he got there nevertheless. He clambered up a pair of steps, scrambled over a threshold, and came into the hallway. The cabin door was closed, but down in one corner a large piece had been cut away, that the cat might go in and out. It was no difficulty whatever for the boy to see how things were in the cabin. He had hardly cast a glance in there before he staggered back and turned his head away. An old, gray-haired woman lay stretched out on the floor within. She neither moved nor moaned; and her face shone strangely white. It was as if an invisible moon had thrown a feeble light over it. The boy remembered that when his grandfather had died, his face had also become so strangely white-like. And he understood that the old woman who lay on the cabin floor must be dead. Death had probably come to her so suddenly that she didn't even have time to lie down on her bed. As he thought of being alone with the dead in the middle of the dark night, he was terribly afraid. He threw himself headlong down the steps, and rushed back to the cowshed. When he told the cow what he had seen in the cabin, she stopped eating. "So my mistress is dead," said she. "Then it will soon be over for me as well." "There will always be someone to look out for you," said the boy comfortingly. "Ah! you don't know," said the cow, "that I am already twice as old as a cow usually is before she is laid upon the slaughter-bench. But then I do not care to live any longer, since she, in there, can come no more to care for me." She said nothing more for a while, but the boy observed, no doubt, that she neither slept nor ate. It was not long before she began to speak again. "Is she lying on the bare floor?" she asked. "She is," said the boy. "She had a habit of coming out to the cowshed," she continued, "and talking about everything that troubled her. I understood what she said, although I could not answer her. These last few days she talked of how afraid she was lest there would be no one with her when she died. She was anxious for fear no one should close her eyes and fold her hands across her breast, after she was dead. Perhaps you'll go in and do this?" The boy hesitated. He remembered that when his grandfather had died, mother had been very careful about putting everything to rights. He knew this was something which had to be done. But, on the other hand, he felt that he didn't care go to the dead, in the ghastly night. He didn't say no; neither did he take a step toward the cowshed door. For a couple of seconds the old cow was silent--just as if she had expected an answer. But when the boy said nothing, she did not repeat her request. Instead, she began to talk with him of her mistress. There was much to tell, first and foremost, about all the children which she had brought up. They had been in the cowshed every day, and in the summer they had taken the cattle to pasture on the swamp and in the groves, so the old cow knew all about them. They had been splendid, all of them, and happy and industrious. A cow knew well enough what her caretakers were good for. There was also much to be said about the farm. It had not always been as poor as it was now. It was very large--although the greater part of it consisted of swamps and stony groves. There was not much room for fields, but there was plenty of good fodder everywhere. At one time there had been a cow for every stall in the cowshed; and the oxshed, which was now empty, had at one time been filled with oxen. And then there was life and gayety, both in cabin and cowhouse. When the mistress opened the cowshed door she would hum and sing, and all the cows lowed with gladness when they heard her coming. But the good man had died when the children were so small that they could not be of any assistance, and the mistress had to take charge of the farm, and all the work and responsibility. She had been as strong as a man, and had both ploughed and reaped. In the evenings, when she came into the cowshed to milk, sometimes she was so tired that she wept. Then she dashed away her tears, and was cheerful again. "It doesn't matter. Good times are coming again for me too, if only my children grow up. Yes, if they only grow up." But as soon as the children were grown, a strange longing came over them. They didn't want to stay at home, but went away to a strange country. Their mother never got any help from them. A couple of her children were married before they went away, and they had left their children behind, in the old home. And now these children followed the mistress in the cowshed, just as her own had done. They tended the cows, and were fine, good folk. And, in the evenings, when the mistress was so tired out that she could fall asleep in the middle of the milking, she would rouse herself again to renewed courage by thinking of them. "Good times are coming for me, too," said she--and shook off sleep--"when once they are grown." But when these children grew up, they went away to their parents in the strange land. No one came back--no one stayed at home--the old mistress was left alone on the farm. Probably she had never asked them to remain with her. "Think you, R dlinna, that I would ask them to stay here with me, when they can go out in the world and have things comfortable?" she would say as she stood in the stall with the old cow. "Here in Sm land they have only poverty to look forward to." But when the last grandchild was gone, it was all up with the mistress. All at once she became bent and gray, and tottered as she walked; as if she no longer had the strength to move about. She stopped working. She did not care to look after the farm, but let everything go to rack and ruin. She didn't repair the houses; and she sold both the cows and the oxen. The only one that she kept was the old cow who now talked with Thumbietot. Her she let live because all the children had tended her. She could have taken maids and farm-hands into her service, who would have helped her with the work, but she couldn't bear to see strangers around her, since her own had deserted her. Perhaps she was better satisfied to let the farm go to ruin, since none of her children were coming back to take it after she was gone. She did not mind that she herself became poor, because she didn't value that which was only hers. But she was troubled lest the children should find out how hard she had it. "If only the children do not hear of this! If only the children do not hear of this!" she sighed as she tottered through the cowhouse. The children wrote constantly, and begged her to come out to them; but this she did not wish. She didn't want to see the land that had taken them from her. She was angry with it. "It's foolish of me, perhaps, that I do not like that land which has been so good for them," said she. "But I don't want to see it." She never thought of anything but the children, and of this--that they must needs have gone. When summer came, she led the cow out to graze in the big swamp. All day she would sit on the edge of the swamp, her hands in her lap; and on the way home she would say: "You see, R dlinna, if there had been large, rich fields here, in place of these barren swamps, then there would have been no need for them to leave." She could become furious with the swamp which spread out so big, and did no good. She could sit and talk about how it was the swamp's fault that the children had left her. This last evening she had been more trembly and feeble than ever before. She could not even do the milking. She had leaned against the manger and talked about two strangers who had been to see her, and had asked if they might buy the swamp. They wanted to drain it, and sow and raise grain on it. This had made her both anxious and glad. "Do you hear, R dlinna," she had said, "do you hear they said that grain can grow on the swamp? Now I shall write to the children to come home. Now they'll not have to stay away any longer; for now they can get their bread here at home." It was this that she had gone into the cabin to do-- The boy heard no more of what the old cow said. He had opened the cowhouse door and gone across the yard, and in to the dead whom he had but lately been so afraid of. It was not so poor in the cabin as he had expected. It was well supplied with the sort of things one generally finds among those who have relatives in America. In a corner there was an American rocking chair; on the table before the window lay a brocaded plush cover; there was a pretty spread on the bed; on the walls, in carved-wood frames, hung the photographs of the children and grandchildren who had gone away; on the bureau stood high vases and a couple of candlesticks, with thick, spiral candles in them. The boy searched for a matchbox and lighted these candles, not because he needed more light than he already had; but because he thought that this was one way to honour the dead. Then he went up to her, closed her eyes, folded her hands across her breast, and stroked back the thin gray hair from her face. He thought no more about being afraid of her. He was so deeply grieved because she had been forced to live out her old age in loneliness and longing. He, at least, would watch over her dead body this night. He hunted up the psalm book, and seated himself to read a couple of psalms in an undertone. But in the middle of the reading he paused--because he had begun to think about his mother and father. Think, that parents can long so for their children! This he had never known. Think, that life can be as though it was over for them when the children are away! Think, if those at home longed for him in the same way that this old peasant woman had longed! This thought made him happy, but he dared not believe in it. He had not been such a one that anybody could long for him. But what he had not been, perhaps he could become. Round about him he saw the portraits of those who were away. They were big, strong men and women with earnest faces. There were brides in long veils, and gentlemen in fine clothes; and there were children with waved hair and pretty white dresses. And he thought that they all stared blindly into vacancy--and did not want to see. "Poor you!" said the boy to the portraits. "Your mother is dead. You cannot make reparation now, because you went away from her. But my mother is living!" Here he paused, and nodded and smiled to himself. "My mother is living," said he. "Both father and mother are living." FROM TABERG TO HUSKVARNA _Friday, April fifteenth_. The boy sat awake nearly all night, but toward morning he fell asleep and then he dreamed of his father and mother. He could hardly recognise them. They had both grown gray, and had old and wrinkled faces. He asked how this had come about, and they answered that they had aged so because they had longed for him. He was both touched and astonished, for he had never believed but what they were glad to be rid of him. When the boy awoke the morning was come, with fine, clear weather. First, he himself ate a bit of bread which he found in the cabin; then he gave morning feed to both geese and cow, and opened the cowhouse door so that the cow could go over to the nearest farm. When the cow came along all by herself the neighbours would no doubt understand that something was wrong with her mistress. They would hurry over to the desolate farm to see how the old woman was getting along, and then they would find her dead body and bury it. The boy and the geese had barely raised themselves into the air, when they caught a glimpse of a high mountain, with almost perpendicular walls, and an abrupt, broken-off top; and they understood that this must be Taberg. On the summit stood Akka, with Yksi and Kaksi, Kolmi and Nelj , Viisi and Knusi, and all six goslings and waited for them. There was a rejoicing, and a cackling, and a fluttering, and a calling which no one can describe, when they saw that the goosey-gander and Dunfin had succeeded in finding Thumbietot. The woods grew pretty high up on Taberg's sides, but her highest peak was barren; and from there one could look out in all directions. If one gazed toward the east, or south, or west, then there was hardly anything to be seen but a poor highland with dark spruce-trees, brown morasses, ice-clad lakes, and bluish mountain-ridges. The boy couldn't keep from thinking it was true that the one who had created this hadn't taken very great pains with his work, but had thrown it together in a hurry. But if one glanced to the north, it was altogether different. Here it looked as if it had been worked out with the utmost care and affection. In this direction one saw only beautiful mountains, soft valleys, and winding rivers, all the way to the big Lake Vettern, which lay ice-free and transparently clear, and shone as if it wasn't filled with water but with blue light. It was Vettern that made it so pretty to look toward the north, because it looked as though a blue stream had risen up from the lake, and spread itself over land also. Groves and hills and roofs, and the spires of J nk ping City--which shimmered along Vettern's shores--lay enveloped in pale blue which caressed the eye. If there were countries in heaven, they, too, must be blue like this, thought the boy, and imagined that he had gotten a faint idea of how it must look in Paradise. Later in the day, when the geese continued their journey, they flew up toward the blue valley. They were in holiday humour; shrieked and made such a racket that no one who had ears could help hearing them. This happened to be the first really fine spring day they had had in this section. Until now, the spring had done its work under rain and bluster; and now, when it had all of a sudden become fine weather, the people were filled with such a longing after summer warmth and green woods that they could hardly perform their tasks. And when the wild geese rode by, high above the ground, cheerful and free, there wasn't one who did not drop what he had in hand, and glance at them. The first ones who saw the wild geese that day were miners on Taberg, who were digging ore at the mouth of the mine. When they heard them cackle, they paused in their drilling for ore, and one of them called to the birds: "Where are you going? Where are you going?" The geese didn't understand what he said, but the boy leaned forward over the goose-back, and answered for them: "Where there is neither pick nor hammer." When the miners heard the words, they thought it was their own longing that made the goose-cackle sound like human speech. "Take us along with you! Take us along with you!" they cried. "Not this year," shrieked the boy. "Not this year." The wild geese followed Taberg River down toward Monk Lake, and all the while they made the same racket. Here, on the narrow land-strip between Monk and Vettern lakes, lay J nk ping with its great factories. The wild geese rode first over Monksj paper mills. The noon rest hour was just over, and the big workmen were streaming down to the mill-gate. When they heard the wild geese, they stopped a moment to listen to them. "Where are you going? Where are you going?" called the workmen. The wild geese understood nothing of what they said, but the boy answered for them: "There, where there are neither machines nor steam-boxes." When the workmen heard the answer, they believed it was their own longing that made the goose-cackle sound like human speech. "Take us along with you!" "Not this year," answered the boy. "Not this year." Next, the geese rode over the well-known match factory, which lies on the shores of Vettern--large as a fortress--and lifts its high chimneys toward the sky. Not a soul moved out in the yards; but in a large hall young working-women sat and filled match-boxes. They had opened a window on account of the beautiful weather, and through it came the wild geese's call. The one who sat nearest the window, leaned out with a match-box in her hand, and cried: "Where are you going? Where are you going?" "To that land where there is no need of either light or matches," said the boy. The girl thought that what she had heard was only goose-cackle; but since she thought she had distinguished a couple of words, she called out in answer: "Take me along with you!" "Not this year," replied the boy. "Not this year." East of the factories rises J nk ping, on the most glorious spot that any city can occupy. The narrow Vettern has high, steep sand-shores, both on the eastern and western sides; but straight south, the sand-walls are broken down, just as if to make room for a large gate, through which one reaches the lake. And in the middle of the gate--with mountains to the left, and mountains to the right, with Monk Lake behind it, and Vettern in front of it--lies J nk ping. The wild geese travelled forward over the long, narrow city, and behaved themselves here just as they had done in the country. But in the city there was no one who answered them. It was not to be expected that city folks should stop out in the streets, and call to the wild geese. The trip extended further along Vettern's shores; and after a little they came to Sanna Sanitarium. Some of the patients had gone out on the veranda to enjoy the spring air, and in this way they heard the goose-cackle. "Where are you going?" asked one of them with such a feeble voice that he was scarcely heard. "To that land where there is neither sorrow nor sickness," answered the boy. "Take us along with you!" said the sick ones. "Not this year," answered the boy. "Not this year." When they had travelled still farther on, they came to Huskvarna. It lay in a valley. The mountains around it were steep and beautifully formed. A river rushed along the heights in long and narrow falls. Big workshops and factories lay below the mountain walls; and scattered over the valley-bottom were the workingmens' homes, encircled by little gardens; and in the centre of the valley lay the schoolhouse. Just as the wild geese came along, a bell rang, and a crowd of school children marched out in line. They were so numerous that the whole schoolyard was filled with them. "Where are you going? Where are you going?" the children shouted when they heard the wild geese. "Where there are neither books nor lessons to be found," answered the boy. "Take us along!" shrieked the children. "Not this year, but next," cried the boy. "Not this year, but next." THE BIG BIRD LAKE JARRO, THE WILD DUCK On the eastern shore of Vettern lies Mount Omberg; east of Omberg lies Dagmosse; east of Dagmosse lies Lake Takern. Around the whole of Takern spreads the big, even sterg ta plain. Takern is a pretty large lake and in olden times it must have been still larger. But then the people thought it covered entirely too much of the fertile plain, so they attempted to drain the water from it, that they might sow and reap on the lake-bottom. But they did not succeed in laying waste the entire lake--which had evidently been their intention--therefore it still hides a lot of land. Since the draining the lake has become so shallow that hardly at any point is it more than a couple of metres deep. The shores have become marshy and muddy; and out in the lake, little mud-islets stick up above the water's surface. Now, there is one who loves to stand with his feet in the water, if he can just keep his body and head in the air, and that is the reed. And it cannot find a better place to grow upon, than the long, shallow Takern shores, and around the little mud-islets. It thrives so well that it grows taller than a man's height, and so thick that it is almost impossible to push a boat through it. It forms a broad green enclosure around the whole lake, so that it is only accessible in a few places where the people have taken away the reeds. But if the reeds shut the people out, they give, in return, shelter and protection to many other things. In the reeds there are a lot of little dams and canals with green, still water, where duckweed and pondweed run to seed; and where gnat-eggs and blackfish and worms are hatched out in uncountable masses. And all along the shores of these little dams and canals, there are many well-concealed places, where seabirds hatch their eggs, and bring up their young without being disturbed, either by enemies or food worries. An incredible number of birds live in the Takern reeds; and more and more gather there every year, as it becomes known what a splendid abode it is. The first who settled there were the wild ducks; and they still live there by thousands. But they no longer own the entire lake, for they have been obliged to share it with swans, grebes, coots, loons, fen-ducks, and a lot of others. Takern is certainly the largest and choicest bird lake in the whole country; and the birds may count themselves lucky as long as they own such a retreat. But it is uncertain just how long they will be in control of reeds and mud-banks, for human beings cannot forget that the lake extends over a considerable portion of good and fertile soil; and every now and then the proposition to drain it comes up among them. And if these propositions were carried out, the many thousands of water-birds would be forced to move from this quarter. At the time when Nils Holgersson travelled around with the wild geese, there lived at Takern a wild duck named Jarro. He was a young bird, who had only lived one summer, one fall, and a winter; now, it was his first spring. He had just returned from South Africa, and had reached Takern in such good season that the ice was still on the lake. One evening, when he and the other young wild ducks played at racing backward and forward over the lake, a hunter fired a couple of shots at them, and Jarro was wounded in the breast. He thought he should die; but in order that the one who had shot him shouldn't get him into his power, he continued to fly as long as he possibly could. He didn't think whither he was directing his course, but only struggled to get far away. When his strength failed him, so that he could not fly any farther, he was no longer on the lake. He had flown a bit inland, and now he sank down before the entrance to one of the big farms which lie along the shores of Takern. A moment later a young farm-hand happened along. He saw Jarro,

be

How many times the word 'be' appears in the text?

Akka had commanded the wild geese to start out--two and two--in different directions, to search for him. But after a two days' hunt, whether or not they had found him, they were to meet in northwestern Sm land on a high mountain-top, which resembled an abrupt, chopped-off tower, and was called Taberg. After Akka had given them the best directions, and described carefully how they should find Taberg, they had separated. The white goosey-gander had chosen Dunfin as travelling companion, and they had flown about hither and thither with the greatest anxiety for Thumbietot. During this ramble they had heard a thrush, who sat in a tree-top, cry and wail that someone, who called himself Kidnapped-by-Crows, had made fun of him. They had talked with the thrush, and he had shown them in which direction that Kidnapped-by-Crows had travelled. Afterward, they had met a dove-cock, a starling and a drake; they had all wailed about a little culprit who had disturbed their song, and who was named Caught-by-Crows, Captured-by-Crows, and Stolen-by-Crows. In this way, they were enabled to trace Thumbietot all the way to the heather-heath in Sonnerbo township. As soon as the goosey-gander and Dunfin had found Thumbietot, they had started toward the north, in order to reach Taberg. But it had been a long road to travel, and the darkness was upon them before they had sighted the mountain top. "If we only get there by to-morrow, surely all our troubles will be over," thought the boy, and dug down into the straw to have it warmer. All the while the cow fussed and fumed in the stall. Then, all of a sudden, she began to talk to the boy. "Everything is wrong with me," said the cow. "I am neither milked nor tended. I have no night fodder in my manger, and no bed has been made under me. My mistress came here at dusk, to put things in order for me, but she felt so ill, that she had to go in soon again, and she has not returned." "It's distressing that I should be little and powerless," said the boy. "I don't believe that I am able to help you." "You can't make me believe that you are powerless because you are little," said the cow. "All the elves that I've ever heard of, were so strong that they could pull a whole load of hay and strike a cow dead with one fist." The boy couldn't help laughing at the cow. "They were a very different kind of elf from me," said he. "But I'll loosen your halter and open the door for you, so that you can go out and drink in one of the pools on the place, and then I'll try to climb up to the hayloft and throw down some hay in your manger." "Yes, that would be some help," said the cow. The boy did as he had said; and when the cow stood with a full manger in front of her, he thought that at last he should get some sleep. But he had hardly crept down in the bed before she began, anew, to talk to him. "You'll be clean put out with me if I ask you for one thing more," said the cow. "Oh, no I won't, if it's only something that I'm able to do," said the boy. "Then I will ask you to go into the cabin, directly opposite, and find out how my mistress is getting along. I fear some misfortune has come to her." "No! I can't do that," said the boy. "I dare not show myself before human beings." "'Surely you're not afraid of an old and sick woman," said the cow. "But you do not need to go into the cabin. Just stand outside the door and peep in through the crack!" "Oh! if that is all you ask of me, I'll do it of course," said the boy. With that he opened the cowshed door and went out in the yard. It was a fearful night! Neither moon nor stars shone; the wind blew a gale, and the rain came down in torrents. And the worst of all was that seven great owls sat in a row on the eaves of the cabin. It was awful just to hear them, where they sat and grumbled at the weather; but it was even worse to think what would happen to him if one of them should set eyes on him. That would be the last of him. "Pity him who is little!" said the boy as he ventured out in the yard. And he had a right to say this, for he was blown down twice before he got to the house: once the wind swept him into a pool, which was so deep that he came near drowning. But he got there nevertheless. He clambered up a pair of steps, scrambled over a threshold, and came into the hallway. The cabin door was closed, but down in one corner a large piece had been cut away, that the cat might go in and out. It was no difficulty whatever for the boy to see how things were in the cabin. He had hardly cast a glance in there before he staggered back and turned his head away. An old, gray-haired woman lay stretched out on the floor within. She neither moved nor moaned; and her face shone strangely white. It was as if an invisible moon had thrown a feeble light over it. The boy remembered that when his grandfather had died, his face had also become so strangely white-like. And he understood that the old woman who lay on the cabin floor must be dead. Death had probably come to her so suddenly that she didn't even have time to lie down on her bed. As he thought of being alone with the dead in the middle of the dark night, he was terribly afraid. He threw himself headlong down the steps, and rushed back to the cowshed. When he told the cow what he had seen in the cabin, she stopped eating. "So my mistress is dead," said she. "Then it will soon be over for me as well." "There will always be someone to look out for you," said the boy comfortingly. "Ah! you don't know," said the cow, "that I am already twice as old as a cow usually is before she is laid upon the slaughter-bench. But then I do not care to live any longer, since she, in there, can come no more to care for me." She said nothing more for a while, but the boy observed, no doubt, that she neither slept nor ate. It was not long before she began to speak again. "Is she lying on the bare floor?" she asked. "She is," said the boy. "She had a habit of coming out to the cowshed," she continued, "and talking about everything that troubled her. I understood what she said, although I could not answer her. These last few days she talked of how afraid she was lest there would be no one with her when she died. She was anxious for fear no one should close her eyes and fold her hands across her breast, after she was dead. Perhaps you'll go in and do this?" The boy hesitated. He remembered that when his grandfather had died, mother had been very careful about putting everything to rights. He knew this was something which had to be done. But, on the other hand, he felt that he didn't care go to the dead, in the ghastly night. He didn't say no; neither did he take a step toward the cowshed door. For a couple of seconds the old cow was silent--just as if she had expected an answer. But when the boy said nothing, she did not repeat her request. Instead, she began to talk with him of her mistress. There was much to tell, first and foremost, about all the children which she had brought up. They had been in the cowshed every day, and in the summer they had taken the cattle to pasture on the swamp and in the groves, so the old cow knew all about them. They had been splendid, all of them, and happy and industrious. A cow knew well enough what her caretakers were good for. There was also much to be said about the farm. It had not always been as poor as it was now. It was very large--although the greater part of it consisted of swamps and stony groves. There was not much room for fields, but there was plenty of good fodder everywhere. At one time there had been a cow for every stall in the cowshed; and the oxshed, which was now empty, had at one time been filled with oxen. And then there was life and gayety, both in cabin and cowhouse. When the mistress opened the cowshed door she would hum and sing, and all the cows lowed with gladness when they heard her coming. But the good man had died when the children were so small that they could not be of any assistance, and the mistress had to take charge of the farm, and all the work and responsibility. She had been as strong as a man, and had both ploughed and reaped. In the evenings, when she came into the cowshed to milk, sometimes she was so tired that she wept. Then she dashed away her tears, and was cheerful again. "It doesn't matter. Good times are coming again for me too, if only my children grow up. Yes, if they only grow up." But as soon as the children were grown, a strange longing came over them. They didn't want to stay at home, but went away to a strange country. Their mother never got any help from them. A couple of her children were married before they went away, and they had left their children behind, in the old home. And now these children followed the mistress in the cowshed, just as her own had done. They tended the cows, and were fine, good folk. And, in the evenings, when the mistress was so tired out that she could fall asleep in the middle of the milking, she would rouse herself again to renewed courage by thinking of them. "Good times are coming for me, too," said she--and shook off sleep--"when once they are grown." But when these children grew up, they went away to their parents in the strange land. No one came back--no one stayed at home--the old mistress was left alone on the farm. Probably she had never asked them to remain with her. "Think you, R dlinna, that I would ask them to stay here with me, when they can go out in the world and have things comfortable?" she would say as she stood in the stall with the old cow. "Here in Sm land they have only poverty to look forward to." But when the last grandchild was gone, it was all up with the mistress. All at once she became bent and gray, and tottered as she walked; as if she no longer had the strength to move about. She stopped working. She did not care to look after the farm, but let everything go to rack and ruin. She didn't repair the houses; and she sold both the cows and the oxen. The only one that she kept was the old cow who now talked with Thumbietot. Her she let live because all the children had tended her. She could have taken maids and farm-hands into her service, who would have helped her with the work, but she couldn't bear to see strangers around her, since her own had deserted her. Perhaps she was better satisfied to let the farm go to ruin, since none of her children were coming back to take it after she was gone. She did not mind that she herself became poor, because she didn't value that which was only hers. But she was troubled lest the children should find out how hard she had it. "If only the children do not hear of this! If only the children do not hear of this!" she sighed as she tottered through the cowhouse. The children wrote constantly, and begged her to come out to them; but this she did not wish. She didn't want to see the land that had taken them from her. She was angry with it. "It's foolish of me, perhaps, that I do not like that land which has been so good for them," said she. "But I don't want to see it." She never thought of anything but the children, and of this--that they must needs have gone. When summer came, she led the cow out to graze in the big swamp. All day she would sit on the edge of the swamp, her hands in her lap; and on the way home she would say: "You see, R dlinna, if there had been large, rich fields here, in place of these barren swamps, then there would have been no need for them to leave." She could become furious with the swamp which spread out so big, and did no good. She could sit and talk about how it was the swamp's fault that the children had left her. This last evening she had been more trembly and feeble than ever before. She could not even do the milking. She had leaned against the manger and talked about two strangers who had been to see her, and had asked if they might buy the swamp. They wanted to drain it, and sow and raise grain on it. This had made her both anxious and glad. "Do you hear, R dlinna," she had said, "do you hear they said that grain can grow on the swamp? Now I shall write to the children to come home. Now they'll not have to stay away any longer; for now they can get their bread here at home." It was this that she had gone into the cabin to do-- The boy heard no more of what the old cow said. He had opened the cowhouse door and gone across the yard, and in to the dead whom he had but lately been so afraid of. It was not so poor in the cabin as he had expected. It was well supplied with the sort of things one generally finds among those who have relatives in America. In a corner there was an American rocking chair; on the table before the window lay a brocaded plush cover; there was a pretty spread on the bed; on the walls, in carved-wood frames, hung the photographs of the children and grandchildren who had gone away; on the bureau stood high vases and a couple of candlesticks, with thick, spiral candles in them. The boy searched for a matchbox and lighted these candles, not because he needed more light than he already had; but because he thought that this was one way to honour the dead. Then he went up to her, closed her eyes, folded her hands across her breast, and stroked back the thin gray hair from her face. He thought no more about being afraid of her. He was so deeply grieved because she had been forced to live out her old age in loneliness and longing. He, at least, would watch over her dead body this night. He hunted up the psalm book, and seated himself to read a couple of psalms in an undertone. But in the middle of the reading he paused--because he had begun to think about his mother and father. Think, that parents can long so for their children! This he had never known. Think, that life can be as though it was over for them when the children are away! Think, if those at home longed for him in the same way that this old peasant woman had longed! This thought made him happy, but he dared not believe in it. He had not been such a one that anybody could long for him. But what he had not been, perhaps he could become. Round about him he saw the portraits of those who were away. They were big, strong men and women with earnest faces. There were brides in long veils, and gentlemen in fine clothes; and there were children with waved hair and pretty white dresses. And he thought that they all stared blindly into vacancy--and did not want to see. "Poor you!" said the boy to the portraits. "Your mother is dead. You cannot make reparation now, because you went away from her. But my mother is living!" Here he paused, and nodded and smiled to himself. "My mother is living," said he. "Both father and mother are living." FROM TABERG TO HUSKVARNA _Friday, April fifteenth_. The boy sat awake nearly all night, but toward morning he fell asleep and then he dreamed of his father and mother. He could hardly recognise them. They had both grown gray, and had old and wrinkled faces. He asked how this had come about, and they answered that they had aged so because they had longed for him. He was both touched and astonished, for he had never believed but what they were glad to be rid of him. When the boy awoke the morning was come, with fine, clear weather. First, he himself ate a bit of bread which he found in the cabin; then he gave morning feed to both geese and cow, and opened the cowhouse door so that the cow could go over to the nearest farm. When the cow came along all by herself the neighbours would no doubt understand that something was wrong with her mistress. They would hurry over to the desolate farm to see how the old woman was getting along, and then they would find her dead body and bury it. The boy and the geese had barely raised themselves into the air, when they caught a glimpse of a high mountain, with almost perpendicular walls, and an abrupt, broken-off top; and they understood that this must be Taberg. On the summit stood Akka, with Yksi and Kaksi, Kolmi and Nelj , Viisi and Knusi, and all six goslings and waited for them. There was a rejoicing, and a cackling, and a fluttering, and a calling which no one can describe, when they saw that the goosey-gander and Dunfin had succeeded in finding Thumbietot. The woods grew pretty high up on Taberg's sides, but her highest peak was barren; and from there one could look out in all directions. If one gazed toward the east, or south, or west, then there was hardly anything to be seen but a poor highland with dark spruce-trees, brown morasses, ice-clad lakes, and bluish mountain-ridges. The boy couldn't keep from thinking it was true that the one who had created this hadn't taken very great pains with his work, but had thrown it together in a hurry. But if one glanced to the north, it was altogether different. Here it looked as if it had been worked out with the utmost care and affection. In this direction one saw only beautiful mountains, soft valleys, and winding rivers, all the way to the big Lake Vettern, which lay ice-free and transparently clear, and shone as if it wasn't filled with water but with blue light. It was Vettern that made it so pretty to look toward the north, because it looked as though a blue stream had risen up from the lake, and spread itself over land also. Groves and hills and roofs, and the spires of J nk ping City--which shimmered along Vettern's shores--lay enveloped in pale blue which caressed the eye. If there were countries in heaven, they, too, must be blue like this, thought the boy, and imagined that he had gotten a faint idea of how it must look in Paradise. Later in the day, when the geese continued their journey, they flew up toward the blue valley. They were in holiday humour; shrieked and made such a racket that no one who had ears could help hearing them. This happened to be the first really fine spring day they had had in this section. Until now, the spring had done its work under rain and bluster; and now, when it had all of a sudden become fine weather, the people were filled with such a longing after summer warmth and green woods that they could hardly perform their tasks. And when the wild geese rode by, high above the ground, cheerful and free, there wasn't one who did not drop what he had in hand, and glance at them. The first ones who saw the wild geese that day were miners on Taberg, who were digging ore at the mouth of the mine. When they heard them cackle, they paused in their drilling for ore, and one of them called to the birds: "Where are you going? Where are you going?" The geese didn't understand what he said, but the boy leaned forward over the goose-back, and answered for them: "Where there is neither pick nor hammer." When the miners heard the words, they thought it was their own longing that made the goose-cackle sound like human speech. "Take us along with you! Take us along with you!" they cried. "Not this year," shrieked the boy. "Not this year." The wild geese followed Taberg River down toward Monk Lake, and all the while they made the same racket. Here, on the narrow land-strip between Monk and Vettern lakes, lay J nk ping with its great factories. The wild geese rode first over Monksj paper mills. The noon rest hour was just over, and the big workmen were streaming down to the mill-gate. When they heard the wild geese, they stopped a moment to listen to them. "Where are you going? Where are you going?" called the workmen. The wild geese understood nothing of what they said, but the boy answered for them: "There, where there are neither machines nor steam-boxes." When the workmen heard the answer, they believed it was their own longing that made the goose-cackle sound like human speech. "Take us along with you!" "Not this year," answered the boy. "Not this year." Next, the geese rode over the well-known match factory, which lies on the shores of Vettern--large as a fortress--and lifts its high chimneys toward the sky. Not a soul moved out in the yards; but in a large hall young working-women sat and filled match-boxes. They had opened a window on account of the beautiful weather, and through it came the wild geese's call. The one who sat nearest the window, leaned out with a match-box in her hand, and cried: "Where are you going? Where are you going?" "To that land where there is no need of either light or matches," said the boy. The girl thought that what she had heard was only goose-cackle; but since she thought she had distinguished a couple of words, she called out in answer: "Take me along with you!" "Not this year," replied the boy. "Not this year." East of the factories rises J nk ping, on the most glorious spot that any city can occupy. The narrow Vettern has high, steep sand-shores, both on the eastern and western sides; but straight south, the sand-walls are broken down, just as if to make room for a large gate, through which one reaches the lake. And in the middle of the gate--with mountains to the left, and mountains to the right, with Monk Lake behind it, and Vettern in front of it--lies J nk ping. The wild geese travelled forward over the long, narrow city, and behaved themselves here just as they had done in the country. But in the city there was no one who answered them. It was not to be expected that city folks should stop out in the streets, and call to the wild geese. The trip extended further along Vettern's shores; and after a little they came to Sanna Sanitarium. Some of the patients had gone out on the veranda to enjoy the spring air, and in this way they heard the goose-cackle. "Where are you going?" asked one of them with such a feeble voice that he was scarcely heard. "To that land where there is neither sorrow nor sickness," answered the boy. "Take us along with you!" said the sick ones. "Not this year," answered the boy. "Not this year." When they had travelled still farther on, they came to Huskvarna. It lay in a valley. The mountains around it were steep and beautifully formed. A river rushed along the heights in long and narrow falls. Big workshops and factories lay below the mountain walls; and scattered over the valley-bottom were the workingmens' homes, encircled by little gardens; and in the centre of the valley lay the schoolhouse. Just as the wild geese came along, a bell rang, and a crowd of school children marched out in line. They were so numerous that the whole schoolyard was filled with them. "Where are you going? Where are you going?" the children shouted when they heard the wild geese. "Where there are neither books nor lessons to be found," answered the boy. "Take us along!" shrieked the children. "Not this year, but next," cried the boy. "Not this year, but next." THE BIG BIRD LAKE JARRO, THE WILD DUCK On the eastern shore of Vettern lies Mount Omberg; east of Omberg lies Dagmosse; east of Dagmosse lies Lake Takern. Around the whole of Takern spreads the big, even sterg ta plain. Takern is a pretty large lake and in olden times it must have been still larger. But then the people thought it covered entirely too much of the fertile plain, so they attempted to drain the water from it, that they might sow and reap on the lake-bottom. But they did not succeed in laying waste the entire lake--which had evidently been their intention--therefore it still hides a lot of land. Since the draining the lake has become so shallow that hardly at any point is it more than a couple of metres deep. The shores have become marshy and muddy; and out in the lake, little mud-islets stick up above the water's surface. Now, there is one who loves to stand with his feet in the water, if he can just keep his body and head in the air, and that is the reed. And it cannot find a better place to grow upon, than the long, shallow Takern shores, and around the little mud-islets. It thrives so well that it grows taller than a man's height, and so thick that it is almost impossible to push a boat through it. It forms a broad green enclosure around the whole lake, so that it is only accessible in a few places where the people have taken away the reeds. But if the reeds shut the people out, they give, in return, shelter and protection to many other things. In the reeds there are a lot of little dams and canals with green, still water, where duckweed and pondweed run to seed; and where gnat-eggs and blackfish and worms are hatched out in uncountable masses. And all along the shores of these little dams and canals, there are many well-concealed places, where seabirds hatch their eggs, and bring up their young without being disturbed, either by enemies or food worries. An incredible number of birds live in the Takern reeds; and more and more gather there every year, as it becomes known what a splendid abode it is. The first who settled there were the wild ducks; and they still live there by thousands. But they no longer own the entire lake, for they have been obliged to share it with swans, grebes, coots, loons, fen-ducks, and a lot of others. Takern is certainly the largest and choicest bird lake in the whole country; and the birds may count themselves lucky as long as they own such a retreat. But it is uncertain just how long they will be in control of reeds and mud-banks, for human beings cannot forget that the lake extends over a considerable portion of good and fertile soil; and every now and then the proposition to drain it comes up among them. And if these propositions were carried out, the many thousands of water-birds would be forced to move from this quarter. At the time when Nils Holgersson travelled around with the wild geese, there lived at Takern a wild duck named Jarro. He was a young bird, who had only lived one summer, one fall, and a winter; now, it was his first spring. He had just returned from South Africa, and had reached Takern in such good season that the ice was still on the lake. One evening, when he and the other young wild ducks played at racing backward and forward over the lake, a hunter fired a couple of shots at them, and Jarro was wounded in the breast. He thought he should die; but in order that the one who had shot him shouldn't get him into his power, he continued to fly as long as he possibly could. He didn't think whither he was directing his course, but only struggled to get far away. When his strength failed him, so that he could not fly any farther, he was no longer on the lake. He had flown a bit inland, and now he sank down before the entrance to one of the big farms which lie along the shores of Takern. A moment later a young farm-hand happened along. He saw Jarro,

nation

How many times the word 'nation' appears in the text?

Alex starts off... BAM! He's blown back by a shot half lost in the noisy club. No panic yet. ONSTAGE the strippers break character, looking. The audience turns as... ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- 63. NEAR THE ENTRANCE The First Bouncer goes flying above the heads of the crowd, getting off a dramatic SHOT while airborne, inducing... PANDEMONIUM Patrons stampeding as BAM BAM! Alex taking bullets, the miracle lost in the chaotic exit. The Bouncers out of sight underfoot. ON ALEX visible again, back on his feet. Buffeted, stationary as everyone flees. With the exodus still at flood stage... CUT TO: INT. WALSH'S OFFICE - NIGHT ON WALSH, in motion as he puts on a jacket, throws some papers into a briefcase. He's nervous, ill-suited for this cloak and dagger stuff, chattering... WALSH We'll be safe in my car. Nobody will recognize it. Let's move yours in back, no, down the block. Hope it's nothing fancy. There's a chop shop around the corner. She's looking elsewhere, at the door that has quietly opened. The Captain stands there. Somber reptile. Holding a sheaf of papers in one hand. ERIN You followed me here. CAPTAIN No... Erin, I put out a bulletin on your car because... there's bad news. And I thought you should hear it from me. She stares at him expressionless. CAPTAIN (CONT'D) Your father got involved with some bad cops. On my force, so I take responsibility. (beat, then) He killed himself. She talks with great difficulty. ERIN How? CAPTAIN How did he kill himself? She nods. ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- 64. CAPTAIN (CONT'D) With a gun. Is that what you mean? ERIN No. I mean... how did he kill himself How do you figure he killed himself--with a gun, right--when it wasn't anywhere near where you found him? He takes a step toward her. She pulls out the Blood Pistol. Seems crazy enough to use it. ERIN (CONT'D) You killed him. WALSH Erin. Don't. ERIN Back the fuck off! Now! The Captain stops, gently tosses the sheaf of papers toward her, onto Walsh's desk. The papers Nathan was preparing. Walsh looks at them while... CAPTAIN He left this. Names, addresses, a note to you. These people he was involved with killed Lauren. He couldn't bear it anymore. WALSH My God. He's right, it's all here. ERIN The note. Show it to me. Erin has one eye on the papers now, recognizes her dad's hand. The Captain inches forward. ERIN (CONT'D) (to Captain) Not you! (to Walsh) Show it to me. The Captain steps forward, right to the desk. Erin backed into a corner now. CAPTAIN It's right there, under that paper. (grabs a note) Here. Look. She holds a hand out for the note, taking her eye off the situation for one second as she reads... ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- 65. THE NOTE A bunch of numbers added together in her father's hand. Not a suicide note. THE CAPTAIN grabs Erin's wrist and BAM! A chunk of the ceiling falls as the weapon discharges. The Captain throws her in a chokehold, her finger still on the trigger. CAPTAIN (CONT'D) You were always the stupid one. She fights as the Captain wraps his own hand over hers, wrestles her arm toward Walsh, in the sights now. BAM! WALSH blown backward, collapsing by the Chess Board. Trying to pull himself up. Erin struggling. As... MADDEN enters from the hall, in a hurry, gun drawn. MADDEN You need help? He nods toward Walsh, who is moving, barely. CAPTAIN Hurry. We don't have much time. BAM. A shot from Madden drops Walsh for god. As Madden drags Walsh toward the door, the Captain grabs... THE PICTURE OF ALEX AND LAUREN pulled off the lid of the Chess box, one of the pieces of tape left behind. The Captain exits. CUT TO: INT. "THE HOLE" - NIGHT MUSIC STILL POUNDS, lights swirl. But the club has cleared out, leaving human detritus, a handful of casualties from the stampede. WITH ALEX as he steps over the Two Bouncers, expired on the floor. A soft WHIMPERING marks the silence. The girl cuffed onstage. Alex goes up to the terrified girl. Close up, she looks way underage. He gathers her clothes, spots a key on the floor. ALEX How old are you? She listens as he unlocks the cuffs. ALEX (CONT'D) You have one chance to value your life. Take it. ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- 66. He watches as she hightails it out the front door, still half naked. As she leaves... THE CROW appears in the doorway near the broken bodies. Alex takes a deep breath, as if it hurts. The casualties. CAW. The Crow flies on, disappearing into the back rooms. Alex turns, follows... INT. "THE HOLE" - BACKSTAGE - NIGHT Alex moves past the empty makeup table. A lipstick cigarette smolders in an ashtray. People left in a hurry. MUSIC LOUD, as if inside our heads now. Alex continues... INT. "THE HOLE" - INTERNET PORN FACILITY Nobody home. Empty images refreshed every six seconds. Number of hits static now. Alex drawn now by the "No Admittance" Curtain which he approaches slowly, touching it and FLASH! ALEX'S INTERNAL POV - LAUREN looking over her shoulder, pulling back the "No Admittance" Curtain, going where she shouldn't go. ALEX Lauren? You were here? Lauren makes her stealthy way into.... INT. "THE HOLE" - BACK HALL - NIGHT revealed as Alex slips past the Curtain, retracing Lauren's footsteps. CAMERA FOLLOWS Alex CREEPING down the hall to... ALEX'S INTERNAL POV - LAUREN down the hall, peering inside the partially open Back Room door, then turning back startled TOWARD CAMERA as if suddenly overtaken. AT THE DOOR Alex turns back, like Lauren, looks behind him. The hallway is empty. He enters... INT. "THE HOLE" - BACK ROOM - NIGHT Darkness. As Alex gropes for a lightswitch, a LIGHTER FLARES. Toomey and Larkin lean in, light up in synch. Alex takes in the dark fringes, dim reflections off lots of eyes. Not taxidermy specimens. BAM BAM BAM BAM. A dozen police officers lining the walls empty cartridges into Alex in an angry, STROBING fusillade. In the silence that follows... LARKIN (after the fact) Don't move. ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- 67. The gang LAUGHS. Larkin makes his way to a light switch by the door. LARKIN (CONT'D) Drinks are on me. Larkin flips on the low-watt BARE BULBS hanging down past industrial pipes and conduit, casting a dim light on the cinderblock space. NO ALEX. ALEX Cheers. They look up and... BAM! Alex DROPS LARKIN with a shot to the forehead. BAM! He MISSES TOOMEY as bullets from below EXPLODE all around him. Alex scampers across framing as... The BARE BULBS burst, all but one, plunging us back in to near darkness as Alex drops to the ground near Larkin's fallen body. Jacks up the sleeve. No scar. Alex spots Toomey, rolls out as... THREE COPS pump rounds into Alex. BAM! Alex takes the middle Cop out, a TOONEY-LIKE GUY who falls onto Toomey, behind him. ALEX turns, forced to defend himself as FULL AUTO FIRE breaks open, the other flank, more advancing cops. While... TOOMEY crawls out from under the fallen copy, then backs out the door on hands and knees while... A FINAL EXPLOSIVE FUSILLADE leaves only Alex standing. As the echoes dissolve... Alex Alex moves to where Toomey was, bends down to check the body... THE NAMEPLATE - "TOOMEY" But the pin isn't fastened properly. The badge askew. RESUME - ALEX rolls the body over, finds another nameplate underneath. "Hauser." Heads off in search of... ALEX (CONT'D) Toomey! INT - "THE HOLE" - INTERNET PORN FACILITY - NIGHT Toomey is clearing the "No Admittance" curtain when... ALEX You dripped something! Toomey panics as he approaches... ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- 68. INTERNET FANTASY SETS Monitors still updating every six seconds. Toomey hears Alex coming, slips through the "Dungeon." BEHIND THE SHOWER FANTASY SET Toomey takes refuge out of sight, next to a GAS HOT WATER HEATER, quiet as a mouse. ALEX tears the "No Admittance" curtain completely off its rod, arriving at the fantasy sets just in time to see... THE DUNGEON MONITOR Toomey (frozen) scurrying through. Gone now as the monitor updates. Then Alex appears, following him through the set... WITH ALEX moving to the rear of the "dungeon," on Toomey's heels. WAM. Toomey hits him full force with A PIPE, sending Alex sprawling backward, COLLAPSING the flimsy Shower set. WAM. Toomey swings again, misses Alex, but connects with... THE GAS LINE to the water heater ripped out by the blow. HISS. The sound of gas, loud, as the line breaks. RESUME Alex straddles Toomey, just as Toomey manages to get his gun pointed in Alex's face. Hissing gas nearby. CLICK. Toomey cocks the gun. ALEX (CONT'D) Spark, gas... bad combination. And it's not this leak here, that's the least of your worries. WAM! Alex swings Toomey's pipe HARD at a much bigger GAS LINE right behind the gas heater, leaving it badly cracked. The hiss magnified 100% nos. ALEX (CONT'D) We're going to play a little game called "Who's got the Scar." TOOMEY What Scar? What fucking scar? ALEX (buzzer sound) AAAANK. That's not how we play the game. Alex jacks Toomey's sleeve down. No Scar. Alex pissed as Toomey locks eyes with him. Really seeing him now. TOOMEY You're him! You're Corvis! We fried your ass. You're dead, man! ALEX Good thing in a situation like this. We pick up... ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- 69. INT. "THE HOLE" - BACK ROOM - NIGHT Some light filters in as a door opens to the outside. A FIGURE enters, squats among the bodies. He leans in, closes larkin's eyes, and we see... It's Madden. Blood on his hands. He hears Alex's VOICE faintly, then Toomey cries out in pain. Madden moves toward... INT. "THE HOLE" - INTERNET PORN FACILITY - NIGHT Madden creeps down the hallway to the back room. VOICES growing louder. TOOMEY Fucking Zombie. ALEX The scar. TOOMEY There is no scar. I'm telling you. As Madden moves toward the conversation, his face registers the slightest of smiles. MADDEN'S CREEPING POV MONITORS obliquely visible as he reaches the end of the hall by the Fantasy sets. The "Shower" monitor shows Alex and Toomey, visible through the trashed set, updated every six seconds. MADDEN SNIFFS gas. The HISS now audible along with Alex's voice. Madden smiles. Pulls out his 9mm. And BACKS UP, away from the Fantasy Sets toward the back room. Madden takes aim at... THE FIRST MONITOR The images is Alex threatening Toomey. Updating now--LOSING ALEX on the Monitor as he steps into frame in person, looks up and BAM! CROWVISION a speeding bullet passes narrowly by and... ANGLE - GROUND ZERO as the bullet hits the monitor in a shower of sparks, followed by... BOOM! A ROILING FIREBALL Seems to vaporize Alex before flying down the hallway right at CAMERA. Madden manages a couple steps in retreat before it blows him into the back room with a deafening roar. EXT. "THE HOLE" - INFERNO - NIGHT BOOM! Windows blow out in a gas fired inferno. A body flung out the rear door. BOOM! ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- 70. EXT. "THE HOLE" - NIGHT Interior/exterior being less meaningful than seconds ago. Walls crumbled, roof blown off. BRIGHT FIRE consumes the frame, consumes the bodies of downed cops, consumes every last bit of oxygen and life. Distant SIRENS draw closer. A SLOW SCAN, someone's OBSTRUCTED POV of Hell. INCLUDE ALEX watching from under a collapsed cinderblock wall that offers some protection from the flames, if not the heat. He looks, intent now, spotting... THE ARM WITH THE ZIGZAG SCARIFICATION sticking out of the rubble, murky through the flames, growing clearer as camera PUSHES, flames licking at it... ALEX tries to move toward the arm. Forced back by too- intense flame as another beam falls, the rubble shifts and... THE ARM WITH THE ZIGZAG SCARIFICATION skeletal now, baked down to bones. A dozen short metal rods on the ground under it. He picks a few up. THE CAPTAIN drawn now to... UNDER THE RUBBLE - WHERE ALEX WAS water dripping off the concrete, collecting in the place where Alex hid. But he's long gone. The Captain drops the rods. Satisfied it's over. CUT TO: EXT. CITY STREET #5 - NIGHT Alex staggers along in bad shape. Up ahead... A GIRL in her twenties exits a building down a flight of stairs, waits at the bottom for her BOYFRIEND, who's locking the door. She sees Alex, gives him an empathetic look. Alex walks slowly closer. ALEX'S INTERNAL POV Lauren appearing to him, playing their game. But the words are wrong, distorted. LAUREN Your witness list is no match for my kung fu. Her Bruce Lee "Oooo" a siren call. RESUME Alex moving slowly forward on the street, drawn toward the girl who watches with horrified fascination. ALEX I'm losing you. ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- 71. ALEX'S INTERNAL POV LAUREN Your zigzag love scar is no match for... Lauren and Alex drawing very close now when... RESUME WAM. A FIST clocks Alex in the face, dropping him hard onto the pavement. GIRL Did you have to do that? BOYFRIEND How about "thank you." GIRL He's bleeding. ALEX I don't bleed. BOYFRIEND And delirious. Better steer clear. ALEX'S POV The Guy wraps his arm protectively around the girl, walks her off. Running into a COP at the next intersection. They POINT at... ALEX takes off, ducking into an alley. Confused. CAMERA CREEPS BACKWARD as he gathers his thoughts. CUT TO: INT. WALSH'S OFFICE - NIGHT RATTLE RATTLE. Alex's shadow visible through the frosted glass, jostling the locked door. ALEX Erin! SMASH. His arm PUNCHES through the glass, turn the knob. Alex enters, arm bleeding badly. He yanks a large piece of glass from his flesh. Painful. Alex registers that the rules have changed. He finds a necktie of Walsh's, uses it to bind the wound, staunch the flow. He scans the room again looking for... Something. But everything seems ok. He passes... The Chess Box, the picture of Lauren and Alex gone. Just a piece of TAPE left, sticking to the top of the open lid. ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- 72. OVER THE CHESS BOARD - ALEX the missing pic lost on him, drawn to the chess board where Walsh collapsed. Something wrong with the game. He finds... THE BLACK KING Off the board. On top of a stack of news clippings lying on the floor. Alex picks it up, LEAVING a RING OF BLOOD under. CAMERA PUSHES on the clipping underneath, the headline "City Leaders Vow Crackdown in Wake of Randall Murder." PUSHING, finding among the City Leaders... ALEX (CONT'D) The King. THE CAPTAIN'S FACE circled in blood. Camera continues to PUSH on the grainy newsprint, through it, until all we see are halftone pixels and the picture loses meaning. EXT. CITY - AIRBORNE - NIGHT The Police Station in sinister CROWVISION as we approach, swoop in and... INT. POLICE STATION - HALLWAY Alex walks the long approach to the Captain's office, past the empty Secretary's desk. KICKING the door open CRASH! into... INT. POLICE STATION - CAPTAIN'S OFFICE The Captain works alone at his desk under a standing lamp. Looks up unconcerned as Alex enters, walks to the desk, and SLAPS down the ring-of-blood clipping. CAPTAIN I hate that picture. ALEX Where are they? CAPTAIN Can I get you something? A glass of water? A transfusion? ALEX Where are they? Last chance. CAPTAIN Or what? You'll bleed all over my carpet? The Captain rises. CAPTAIN (CONT'D) You know crime was actually down until you showed up, or stuck (MORE) ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- 73. CAPTAIN (CONT'D) around, or whatever the hell you're doing here. (then) What are you doing here? ALEX I'm looking for my friends. CAPTAIN See, I heard you were looking for some guy with a scar. How's that going? You find him? Yes? No? Alex tenses as the Captain starts toward him. CAPTAIN (CONT'D) You are like the guest who would not leave, you know that? And judging from your condition, maybe you've overstayed your welcome. That's not a criticism. Just an observation. Alex draws the knife from his clothes. CAPTAIN (CONT'D) I don't think you're going to use it. That's Lauren's knife. Enraged, Alex SWIPES the knife. The Captain grabs his arm right at the blood soaked necktie, squeezes hard. Alex writhes in pain. In each other's faces now. CAPTAIN (CONT'D) You come in here al lfull of righteous indignation, but what have you got to be righteous about? THE KNIFE starting to fall from Alex's hand as the Captain continues to clamp down on his wound. CAPTAIN (CONT'D) How many innocent people did you leave dead back there? ALEX You sent them. I had no choice. CAPTAIN Bullshit. You're a killer, that's all you are. A clown with a bird and a rising death toll. You think the world did you wrong?! You did the world wrong. The Captain snatches the knife, RAMS it into Alex's midriff. ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- 74. CAPTAIN (CONT'D) You and Lauren had a fight. You couldn't let it go. FLASH EXT. OLD GROWTH GROVE - DAY ALEX'S INTERNAL POV Lauren in tears in Alex's car. LAUREN I can't say. ALEX He grabs for her. She pulls violently away. LAUREN Don't touch me! RESUME INT. POLICE STATION - CAPTAIN'S OFFICE - NIGHT WHOOMP. Another stab into Alex. There will be fifty three. CAPTAIN It was one thing her dad rejected you. But when she did you lost it. ALEX You're wrong. CAPTAIN Yeah? I see doubt oozing out your arm. Where do people go when they kill their girlfriends? FLASH ALEX'S INTERNAL POV Alex back at the inferno, cowering from flames. RESUME The Captain full of righteous conviction. CAPTAIN (CONT'D) Screwed up kid stabs her fifty three times. Where would he end up? The Captain bent over Alex, stabbing him. ALEX'S INTERNAL POV (INTERCUT WITH PREVIOUS) FLASHES move us backward along the path we've taken so far, a tour of hell on earth, the blast of infernal winds and the ever-present voice of the Captain, condemning. CAPTAIN'S VOICE Take a look! Strippers writhe at "The Hole." ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- 75. CAPTAIN'S VOICE (CONT'D) That's who you are! The Porsche explodes. CAPTAIN'S VOICE (CONT'D) You sick fuck! Look at it! Alex blasts Dutton. BAM! CAPTAIN'S VOICE (CONT'D) Every loser name anyone ever called you was true! Alex escapes the taser. Mercer drops. CAPTAIN'S VOICE (CONT'D) Are you looking? Answer me! Time SCREECHING to a halt, all the movement converging on a single, quiet image. One we've seen before... Alex in the chair. But his last words are different. ALEX I loved Lauren. I never meant to hurt her. ZAP. Electro-spasm as the switch is thrown. No scar, no meltdown, just violent fibrillations that moderate, finally as we MATCH TO... RESUME - THE CAPTAIN'S OFFICE The Captain shaking Alex, holding something in front of Alex's face. CAPTAIN You see it? Huh? Did you see it? Alex's eye's gone dead, no longer seeing... THE PHOTO - LAUREN AND ALEX IN THE WOODS arms around each other. Familiar, but on second take, it's like the crime scene photos... Lauren's NECK is SLASHED, her body riddled with stab wounds. Alex has a big smile on his face, his arm around her, her head on his shoulder. 100% sociopath. RESUME CAPTAIN (CONT'D) Yeah. I think you fucking saw it. The Captain drops Alex lifeless and bloody to the floor. Only the sound of the Captain panting now, then... The sound of slow clapping. Madden walks into the room from behind perimeter curtains. CLAP CLAP CLAP. ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- 76. MADDEN You were right. Picture's worth a thousand words. Madden kicks Alex lightly, nudging him. No life signes. The Captain rips the picture in two. Tosses it in the trash. CAPTAIN Just don't believe everything you see. MADDEN Doubt is a motherfucker. CAPTAIN Give me a hand with this sack of shit. INT. MYSTERY ROOM - NIGHT NEW ANGLE - THROUGH A WINDOW DARKLY Madden and the Captain grab Alex, one at each end. SECRETARY He's cute. Was cute. REVEAL, this is the Secretary's POV through the window. She's bent over someone's toes, painting them BLUE. WIDE. The Mystery Room revealed. Taxidermy specimens line the wall and the table. Erin stands in PROFILE in the middle of the room, strangely silent, hands tied overhead by a rope that runs to the ceiling. The Secretary brushing polish on Erin's toes. SECRETARY (CONT'D) But the face, well, makeup can work for you or against you. Right? The Secretary applies a last flourish of polish, then stands, kisses Erin gently. SECRETARY (CONT'D) All done. Very nice. (then) You're a good listener. The Secretary moves off REVEALING... ERIN'S FACE MOUTH SEWN shut in a rough zigzag stitch, like the scar. Her eyes dart as... THE DOOR opens. The Captain and Madden carry Alex in. Madden sweeps the TAXIDERMY SPECIMENS back with his hand, clearing a space for Alex on the table. Among them... ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- 77. THE CROW on its Corvus Brachyrhynchos stand takes a small hop backward, this sign of life unnoticed as... RESUME WHUMP. Alex heaved onto the table. MADDEN So was he dead? Or alive? The Secretary puts her ear to Alex's lifeless lips. CAPTAIN I've seen birds stuffed and mounted so lifelike you'd swear you saw them breathing. This reminds him... he looks at the Crow on the stand. Lifeless, stuffed. As it should be. CAPTAIN (CONT'D) Maybe we had a case of that here. (to Secretary) Get me my kit. MADDEN You two are majorly demented. Anyone ever tell you that? The Secretary steps off to grab thekit, leaving Alex's lifeless open eyes pointing toward Erin, reflected in his eyeballs first before... ANGLE - ERIN looking up at her own hands, bound above her as she eases them apart and... The HEART SHAPED LOCKET slips from between her palms and she closes them again in time to catch the chain, the locket swinging. ON THE TABLE X-CLOSE. The locket reflected in Alex's lifeless open eyes a second before... The Secretary returns, blocking the sightline. Lays out the Kit, nasty looking tools left over from the Inquisition. Then unbuttons Alex's tattered shirt, undressing him for the procedure. Stab wounds everywhere. SECRETARY Fifty three? CAPTAIN In all the excitement I kind of lost count. (then) I think I'll mount him with his head up his ass. A large KNIFE, the Lauren murder weapon, angles in at the base of Alex'sneck where the Secretary's head was. ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- 78. THE CROW - OVERCRANKED moves on the table. Takes flight. THE TRIO turn toward the commotion. CAPTAIN (CONT'D) Grab it! THE LOCKET - OVERCRANKED Snatched in midair by the Crow from Erin's praying hands. FLASH! ALEX/CROW'S INTERNAL POV HIGH ANGLE CROWVISION. Dim memories from the woods. Anamorphic and dark. Two figures--Alex and Erin--kneeling. RESUME - THE LOCKET released from the Crow's beak, passing through the TRIO'S HANDS uncaught, bouncing off Alex onto the table, in front of his open eyes. ALEX/CROW'S INTERNAL POV FLASH. AT GROUND LEVEL. Alex fastens the LOCKET around her neck. The distortion lessening, becoming Alex's POV. ALEX ... it connects you to me... FLASH. ERIN No matter what happens... you're innocent... I promise... FLASH. Alex painting her face. RESUME Alex BLINKS. The Captain reacts--oh shit--starts to bring the knife down, a hurried strike at Alex's chest. WAM! Alex grabs the Captain's arm in his hand, stopping the movement on a dime. ALEX All lies. Everything you ever showed me. MADDEN pulls a gun, points it at Erin. ALEX jumps up, flying INTO the gun as it goes off. CRASH! They tumble THROUGH THE WINDOW into the Captain's office while... THE CAPTAIN cuts down the rope holding Erin. She collapses... ON THE TABLE strewn with blades, secreting one between her hands, in the second before... THE CAPTAIN drags Erin off. The Secretary flails at the Crow with a metal ROD, while... IN THE CAPTAIN'S OFFICE Madden has the gun on Alex now. BAM! No effect. BAM! ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- 79. Madden sweating it now, continuing to shoot with no effect as... THE MYSTERY ROOM The Secretary finally connects with the Crow, batting it against the wall, noticing this coincides with... Alex goes flying against the desk, winged himself. Madden c Onfused, not understanding. SECRETARY (O.S.) It's the bird! Kill it! Madden wheels, points the gun through the busted-out picture window into... The SECRETARY dives for cover as bullets explode around her. The Crow dancing, sprayed with debris. CUT TO: INT. POLICE STATION - ELEVATOR - NIGHT CLOSE. Floor lights sequence above the door, heading for underground parking. "5 - 4 - 3..." The Captain watches the lights. Erin is slumped face first against the side of the elevator opposite him. CAPTAIN You brought him back. Good. He owes you. We'll stick together, you and I. ON ERIN face pressed against the elevator wall, intent. CAPTAIN (CONT'D) Seen but not heard. They ought to make it a law. Erin winces, looks down... THE BLADE emerging from her sleeve as she tries to hold it with her two bound hands. DING. The elevator jerks to a stop. THE CAPTAIN grabs her off the floor and she RAMS the blade into his abdomen with the force of the entire body. Twists it. The elevator doors open. ERIN pulls out the blade, claws her way out the door, the Captain hanging on to her, finally getting free as she swipes at him again, drawing fresh blood. Running now, into... INT. POLICE STATION - PARKING GARAGE - NIGHT Erin stumbles between cars in the dark underground garage, cutting the cord off her hands, leaving it behind as... ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- 80. Behind her, the Captain unsteady on his feet, a wounded animal. He pulls out a GLOCK 9MM and KA-CHUNK. Cycles it. Erin dives between cars, scrambling on hands and knees. Looks around. HER POV - SCANNING a small garage with a few police cruisers by a SERVICE AREA and no people. A barred GATE over the exit. No way out. ERIN winces. Then stifles a cry as she cuts the stitches off her mouth with the knife. Drops the threads on the floor and moves off... CUT TO: INT. POLICE STATION - CAPTAIN'S OFFICE - NIGHT Alex runs past the glass AWARDS CASE, takes a flying leap behind the desk, seeking cover as Madden empties a clip at him. The slide ratchets back. Madden SLAMS another clip in, advances on Alex, hidden behind the shredded desk as... THE SECRETARY clears stuffed birds off the table trying to expose the wounded crow cowering back against the wall. SECRETARY Here pretty bird. Here birdy. WHOP! She grabs it, the Crow flapping desperately as... IN THE CAPTAIN'S OFFICE Madden creeps up on the desk, peers over it. Nothing. Out of nowhere... WAM! Alex rushes Madden, bulldozing him across the room with a pained cry of brute force toward... THE AWARDS CASE CRASH! Glass shatters as Alex hurls Madden, who swivels around in time to get off a last shot BAM! That collapses Alex to the floor. IN THE MYSTERY ROOM The Crow squeezes out of the Secretary's grasp, leaving her holding a couple feathers. AT THE AWARD'S CASE Alex hauls himself off the floor as the Crow joins him. Seeing... MADDEN'S HEAD has taken its place among glass bowls and trophies, half decapitated by the glass shelf it now rests on. Down the shelf from the stuffed bird. ALEX rushes through the blown out window into... Seeing for the first time that Erin is gone, the rope hanging from the ceiling, finding... THE SECRETARY ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- 81. SECRETARY (CONT'D) sitting on the floor, painting her own toenails BLUE, leaning up against the wall. ALEX Where'd they go? Alex eases the Secretary to her feet with a hand around her neck, her back to the wall. She looks UP, smiling at... WALSH - RIGHT ARM MISSING hangs high overhead from some kind of hook. His arm has been crudely removed. Underneath him, on the table, a BOX of 2" surgical stainless steel rods sits by a pool of blood. ALEX yells, reeling, as... The door flies open. A half dozen cops in, all targeting Alex as... THE SECRETARY plunges the Lauren KNIFE in Alex's back. He spins violently THROWING her HARD against the wall. WAM! Surprise!-she sticks. REVEAL, she's impaled on ANTELOPE ANTLERS, hanging off the wall. Her head drops, looking down as a stream of blood flows down her legs, drips off her toes... SECRETARY (dying words) My nails. BAM BAM BAM. The new arrivals open fire. Alex reaches over his shoulder, yanks out the knife with an odd slurping sound as... CUT TO: INT. POLICE STATION - PARKING GARAGE The sound of GUNFIRE filters down from above as the Captain hunts his hidden prey. He stops, studies... ERIN'S POV - LOW ANGLE LOOKING UNDER A CAR The Captain's feet, joined by his hand as he picks up the thread she left on the ground. INCLUDE ERIN SECRETARY reproving herself as she turns toward camera. She looks back under the car, but... The Captain's feet have moved off. Where? She listens, hears nothing. Slips off... NEW ANGLE - ERIN takes refuge in the service area, crouching behind stacks of TIRES. Knife at the ready. ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- 82. The Captain's FOOTSTEPS audible. HER OBSTRUCTED POV between stacks of tires, the Captain, Glock at ready, PASSES BY, moving out of sight. Footsteps RECEDING. Then silent. ERIN Listening, neurons firing. Cranes her neck to see. Nothing. WIDER the Captain appears BEHIND ERIN, over the stacks of tires. She's oblivious, then... Erin wheels, slashes across his wrist. The Glock falls, Erin grabs it, levels it at the Captain. Her finger tense on the trigger. CAPTAIN (re: gun) I know you too well. You won't do it. ERIN You don't know me at all. BAM! She pulls the trigger, simultaneously wrenching the gun, aiming just enough off that... THE CAPTAIN yells in pain, rushes his hand to his ear, a bloody mess. He starts advancing again toward her and Erin pulls... THE TRIGGER again, again, again.

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How many times the word 'rubble' appears in the text?

Alex starts off... BAM! He's blown back by a shot half lost in the noisy club. No panic yet. ONSTAGE the strippers break character, looking. The audience turns as... ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- 63. NEAR THE ENTRANCE The First Bouncer goes flying above the heads of the crowd, getting off a dramatic SHOT while airborne, inducing... PANDEMONIUM Patrons stampeding as BAM BAM! Alex taking bullets, the miracle lost in the chaotic exit. The Bouncers out of sight underfoot. ON ALEX visible again, back on his feet. Buffeted, stationary as everyone flees. With the exodus still at flood stage... CUT TO: INT. WALSH'S OFFICE - NIGHT ON WALSH, in motion as he puts on a jacket, throws some papers into a briefcase. He's nervous, ill-suited for this cloak and dagger stuff, chattering... WALSH We'll be safe in my car. Nobody will recognize it. Let's move yours in back, no, down the block. Hope it's nothing fancy. There's a chop shop around the corner. She's looking elsewhere, at the door that has quietly opened. The Captain stands there. Somber reptile. Holding a sheaf of papers in one hand. ERIN You followed me here. CAPTAIN No... Erin, I put out a bulletin on your car because... there's bad news. And I thought you should hear it from me. She stares at him expressionless. CAPTAIN (CONT'D) Your father got involved with some bad cops. On my force, so I take responsibility. (beat, then) He killed himself. She talks with great difficulty. ERIN How? CAPTAIN How did he kill himself? She nods. ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- 64. CAPTAIN (CONT'D) With a gun. Is that what you mean? ERIN No. I mean... how did he kill himself How do you figure he killed himself--with a gun, right--when it wasn't anywhere near where you found him? He takes a step toward her. She pulls out the Blood Pistol. Seems crazy enough to use it. ERIN (CONT'D) You killed him. WALSH Erin. Don't. ERIN Back the fuck off! Now! The Captain stops, gently tosses the sheaf of papers toward her, onto Walsh's desk. The papers Nathan was preparing. Walsh looks at them while... CAPTAIN He left this. Names, addresses, a note to you. These people he was involved with killed Lauren. He couldn't bear it anymore. WALSH My God. He's right, it's all here. ERIN The note. Show it to me. Erin has one eye on the papers now, recognizes her dad's hand. The Captain inches forward. ERIN (CONT'D) (to Captain) Not you! (to Walsh) Show it to me. The Captain steps forward, right to the desk. Erin backed into a corner now. CAPTAIN It's right there, under that paper. (grabs a note) Here. Look. She holds a hand out for the note, taking her eye off the situation for one second as she reads... ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- 65. THE NOTE A bunch of numbers added together in her father's hand. Not a suicide note. THE CAPTAIN grabs Erin's wrist and BAM! A chunk of the ceiling falls as the weapon discharges. The Captain throws her in a chokehold, her finger still on the trigger. CAPTAIN (CONT'D) You were always the stupid one. She fights as the Captain wraps his own hand over hers, wrestles her arm toward Walsh, in the sights now. BAM! WALSH blown backward, collapsing by the Chess Board. Trying to pull himself up. Erin struggling. As... MADDEN enters from the hall, in a hurry, gun drawn. MADDEN You need help? He nods toward Walsh, who is moving, barely. CAPTAIN Hurry. We don't have much time. BAM. A shot from Madden drops Walsh for god. As Madden drags Walsh toward the door, the Captain grabs... THE PICTURE OF ALEX AND LAUREN pulled off the lid of the Chess box, one of the pieces of tape left behind. The Captain exits. CUT TO: INT. "THE HOLE" - NIGHT MUSIC STILL POUNDS, lights swirl. But the club has cleared out, leaving human detritus, a handful of casualties from the stampede. WITH ALEX as he steps over the Two Bouncers, expired on the floor. A soft WHIMPERING marks the silence. The girl cuffed onstage. Alex goes up to the terrified girl. Close up, she looks way underage. He gathers her clothes, spots a key on the floor. ALEX How old are you? She listens as he unlocks the cuffs. ALEX (CONT'D) You have one chance to value your life. Take it. ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- 66. He watches as she hightails it out the front door, still half naked. As she leaves... THE CROW appears in the doorway near the broken bodies. Alex takes a deep breath, as if it hurts. The casualties. CAW. The Crow flies on, disappearing into the back rooms. Alex turns, follows... INT. "THE HOLE" - BACKSTAGE - NIGHT Alex moves past the empty makeup table. A lipstick cigarette smolders in an ashtray. People left in a hurry. MUSIC LOUD, as if inside our heads now. Alex continues... INT. "THE HOLE" - INTERNET PORN FACILITY Nobody home. Empty images refreshed every six seconds. Number of hits static now. Alex drawn now by the "No Admittance" Curtain which he approaches slowly, touching it and FLASH! ALEX'S INTERNAL POV - LAUREN looking over her shoulder, pulling back the "No Admittance" Curtain, going where she shouldn't go. ALEX Lauren? You were here? Lauren makes her stealthy way into.... INT. "THE HOLE" - BACK HALL - NIGHT revealed as Alex slips past the Curtain, retracing Lauren's footsteps. CAMERA FOLLOWS Alex CREEPING down the hall to... ALEX'S INTERNAL POV - LAUREN down the hall, peering inside the partially open Back Room door, then turning back startled TOWARD CAMERA as if suddenly overtaken. AT THE DOOR Alex turns back, like Lauren, looks behind him. The hallway is empty. He enters... INT. "THE HOLE" - BACK ROOM - NIGHT Darkness. As Alex gropes for a lightswitch, a LIGHTER FLARES. Toomey and Larkin lean in, light up in synch. Alex takes in the dark fringes, dim reflections off lots of eyes. Not taxidermy specimens. BAM BAM BAM BAM. A dozen police officers lining the walls empty cartridges into Alex in an angry, STROBING fusillade. In the silence that follows... LARKIN (after the fact) Don't move. ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- 67. The gang LAUGHS. Larkin makes his way to a light switch by the door. LARKIN (CONT'D) Drinks are on me. Larkin flips on the low-watt BARE BULBS hanging down past industrial pipes and conduit, casting a dim light on the cinderblock space. NO ALEX. ALEX Cheers. They look up and... BAM! Alex DROPS LARKIN with a shot to the forehead. BAM! He MISSES TOOMEY as bullets from below EXPLODE all around him. Alex scampers across framing as... The BARE BULBS burst, all but one, plunging us back in to near darkness as Alex drops to the ground near Larkin's fallen body. Jacks up the sleeve. No scar. Alex spots Toomey, rolls out as... THREE COPS pump rounds into Alex. BAM! Alex takes the middle Cop out, a TOONEY-LIKE GUY who falls onto Toomey, behind him. ALEX turns, forced to defend himself as FULL AUTO FIRE breaks open, the other flank, more advancing cops. While... TOOMEY crawls out from under the fallen copy, then backs out the door on hands and knees while... A FINAL EXPLOSIVE FUSILLADE leaves only Alex standing. As the echoes dissolve... Alex Alex moves to where Toomey was, bends down to check the body... THE NAMEPLATE - "TOOMEY" But the pin isn't fastened properly. The badge askew. RESUME - ALEX rolls the body over, finds another nameplate underneath. "Hauser." Heads off in search of... ALEX (CONT'D) Toomey! INT - "THE HOLE" - INTERNET PORN FACILITY - NIGHT Toomey is clearing the "No Admittance" curtain when... ALEX You dripped something! Toomey panics as he approaches... ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- 68. INTERNET FANTASY SETS Monitors still updating every six seconds. Toomey hears Alex coming, slips through the "Dungeon." BEHIND THE SHOWER FANTASY SET Toomey takes refuge out of sight, next to a GAS HOT WATER HEATER, quiet as a mouse. ALEX tears the "No Admittance" curtain completely off its rod, arriving at the fantasy sets just in time to see... THE DUNGEON MONITOR Toomey (frozen) scurrying through. Gone now as the monitor updates. Then Alex appears, following him through the set... WITH ALEX moving to the rear of the "dungeon," on Toomey's heels. WAM. Toomey hits him full force with A PIPE, sending Alex sprawling backward, COLLAPSING the flimsy Shower set. WAM. Toomey swings again, misses Alex, but connects with... THE GAS LINE to the water heater ripped out by the blow. HISS. The sound of gas, loud, as the line breaks. RESUME Alex straddles Toomey, just as Toomey manages to get his gun pointed in Alex's face. Hissing gas nearby. CLICK. Toomey cocks the gun. ALEX (CONT'D) Spark, gas... bad combination. And it's not this leak here, that's the least of your worries. WAM! Alex swings Toomey's pipe HARD at a much bigger GAS LINE right behind the gas heater, leaving it badly cracked. The hiss magnified 100% nos. ALEX (CONT'D) We're going to play a little game called "Who's got the Scar." TOOMEY What Scar? What fucking scar? ALEX (buzzer sound) AAAANK. That's not how we play the game. Alex jacks Toomey's sleeve down. No Scar. Alex pissed as Toomey locks eyes with him. Really seeing him now. TOOMEY You're him! You're Corvis! We fried your ass. You're dead, man! ALEX Good thing in a situation like this. We pick up... ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- 69. INT. "THE HOLE" - BACK ROOM - NIGHT Some light filters in as a door opens to the outside. A FIGURE enters, squats among the bodies. He leans in, closes larkin's eyes, and we see... It's Madden. Blood on his hands. He hears Alex's VOICE faintly, then Toomey cries out in pain. Madden moves toward... INT. "THE HOLE" - INTERNET PORN FACILITY - NIGHT Madden creeps down the hallway to the back room. VOICES growing louder. TOOMEY Fucking Zombie. ALEX The scar. TOOMEY There is no scar. I'm telling you. As Madden moves toward the conversation, his face registers the slightest of smiles. MADDEN'S CREEPING POV MONITORS obliquely visible as he reaches the end of the hall by the Fantasy sets. The "Shower" monitor shows Alex and Toomey, visible through the trashed set, updated every six seconds. MADDEN SNIFFS gas. The HISS now audible along with Alex's voice. Madden smiles. Pulls out his 9mm. And BACKS UP, away from the Fantasy Sets toward the back room. Madden takes aim at... THE FIRST MONITOR The images is Alex threatening Toomey. Updating now--LOSING ALEX on the Monitor as he steps into frame in person, looks up and BAM! CROWVISION a speeding bullet passes narrowly by and... ANGLE - GROUND ZERO as the bullet hits the monitor in a shower of sparks, followed by... BOOM! A ROILING FIREBALL Seems to vaporize Alex before flying down the hallway right at CAMERA. Madden manages a couple steps in retreat before it blows him into the back room with a deafening roar. EXT. "THE HOLE" - INFERNO - NIGHT BOOM! Windows blow out in a gas fired inferno. A body flung out the rear door. BOOM! ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- 70. EXT. "THE HOLE" - NIGHT Interior/exterior being less meaningful than seconds ago. Walls crumbled, roof blown off. BRIGHT FIRE consumes the frame, consumes the bodies of downed cops, consumes every last bit of oxygen and life. Distant SIRENS draw closer. A SLOW SCAN, someone's OBSTRUCTED POV of Hell. INCLUDE ALEX watching from under a collapsed cinderblock wall that offers some protection from the flames, if not the heat. He looks, intent now, spotting... THE ARM WITH THE ZIGZAG SCARIFICATION sticking out of the rubble, murky through the flames, growing clearer as camera PUSHES, flames licking at it... ALEX tries to move toward the arm. Forced back by too- intense flame as another beam falls, the rubble shifts and... THE ARM WITH THE ZIGZAG SCARIFICATION skeletal now, baked down to bones. A dozen short metal rods on the ground under it. He picks a few up. THE CAPTAIN drawn now to... UNDER THE RUBBLE - WHERE ALEX WAS water dripping off the concrete, collecting in the place where Alex hid. But he's long gone. The Captain drops the rods. Satisfied it's over. CUT TO: EXT. CITY STREET #5 - NIGHT Alex staggers along in bad shape. Up ahead... A GIRL in her twenties exits a building down a flight of stairs, waits at the bottom for her BOYFRIEND, who's locking the door. She sees Alex, gives him an empathetic look. Alex walks slowly closer. ALEX'S INTERNAL POV Lauren appearing to him, playing their game. But the words are wrong, distorted. LAUREN Your witness list is no match for my kung fu. Her Bruce Lee "Oooo" a siren call. RESUME Alex moving slowly forward on the street, drawn toward the girl who watches with horrified fascination. ALEX I'm losing you. ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- 71. ALEX'S INTERNAL POV LAUREN Your zigzag love scar is no match for... Lauren and Alex drawing very close now when... RESUME WAM. A FIST clocks Alex in the face, dropping him hard onto the pavement. GIRL Did you have to do that? BOYFRIEND How about "thank you." GIRL He's bleeding. ALEX I don't bleed. BOYFRIEND And delirious. Better steer clear. ALEX'S POV The Guy wraps his arm protectively around the girl, walks her off. Running into a COP at the next intersection. They POINT at... ALEX takes off, ducking into an alley. Confused. CAMERA CREEPS BACKWARD as he gathers his thoughts. CUT TO: INT. WALSH'S OFFICE - NIGHT RATTLE RATTLE. Alex's shadow visible through the frosted glass, jostling the locked door. ALEX Erin! SMASH. His arm PUNCHES through the glass, turn the knob. Alex enters, arm bleeding badly. He yanks a large piece of glass from his flesh. Painful. Alex registers that the rules have changed. He finds a necktie of Walsh's, uses it to bind the wound, staunch the flow. He scans the room again looking for... Something. But everything seems ok. He passes... The Chess Box, the picture of Lauren and Alex gone. Just a piece of TAPE left, sticking to the top of the open lid. ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- 72. OVER THE CHESS BOARD - ALEX the missing pic lost on him, drawn to the chess board where Walsh collapsed. Something wrong with the game. He finds... THE BLACK KING Off the board. On top of a stack of news clippings lying on the floor. Alex picks it up, LEAVING a RING OF BLOOD under. CAMERA PUSHES on the clipping underneath, the headline "City Leaders Vow Crackdown in Wake of Randall Murder." PUSHING, finding among the City Leaders... ALEX (CONT'D) The King. THE CAPTAIN'S FACE circled in blood. Camera continues to PUSH on the grainy newsprint, through it, until all we see are halftone pixels and the picture loses meaning. EXT. CITY - AIRBORNE - NIGHT The Police Station in sinister CROWVISION as we approach, swoop in and... INT. POLICE STATION - HALLWAY Alex walks the long approach to the Captain's office, past the empty Secretary's desk. KICKING the door open CRASH! into... INT. POLICE STATION - CAPTAIN'S OFFICE The Captain works alone at his desk under a standing lamp. Looks up unconcerned as Alex enters, walks to the desk, and SLAPS down the ring-of-blood clipping. CAPTAIN I hate that picture. ALEX Where are they? CAPTAIN Can I get you something? A glass of water? A transfusion? ALEX Where are they? Last chance. CAPTAIN Or what? You'll bleed all over my carpet? The Captain rises. CAPTAIN (CONT'D) You know crime was actually down until you showed up, or stuck (MORE) ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- 73. CAPTAIN (CONT'D) around, or whatever the hell you're doing here. (then) What are you doing here? ALEX I'm looking for my friends. CAPTAIN See, I heard you were looking for some guy with a scar. How's that going? You find him? Yes? No? Alex tenses as the Captain starts toward him. CAPTAIN (CONT'D) You are like the guest who would not leave, you know that? And judging from your condition, maybe you've overstayed your welcome. That's not a criticism. Just an observation. Alex draws the knife from his clothes. CAPTAIN (CONT'D) I don't think you're going to use it. That's Lauren's knife. Enraged, Alex SWIPES the knife. The Captain grabs his arm right at the blood soaked necktie, squeezes hard. Alex writhes in pain. In each other's faces now. CAPTAIN (CONT'D) You come in here al lfull of righteous indignation, but what have you got to be righteous about? THE KNIFE starting to fall from Alex's hand as the Captain continues to clamp down on his wound. CAPTAIN (CONT'D) How many innocent people did you leave dead back there? ALEX You sent them. I had no choice. CAPTAIN Bullshit. You're a killer, that's all you are. A clown with a bird and a rising death toll. You think the world did you wrong?! You did the world wrong. The Captain snatches the knife, RAMS it into Alex's midriff. ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- 74. CAPTAIN (CONT'D) You and Lauren had a fight. You couldn't let it go. FLASH EXT. OLD GROWTH GROVE - DAY ALEX'S INTERNAL POV Lauren in tears in Alex's car. LAUREN I can't say. ALEX He grabs for her. She pulls violently away. LAUREN Don't touch me! RESUME INT. POLICE STATION - CAPTAIN'S OFFICE - NIGHT WHOOMP. Another stab into Alex. There will be fifty three. CAPTAIN It was one thing her dad rejected you. But when she did you lost it. ALEX You're wrong. CAPTAIN Yeah? I see doubt oozing out your arm. Where do people go when they kill their girlfriends? FLASH ALEX'S INTERNAL POV Alex back at the inferno, cowering from flames. RESUME The Captain full of righteous conviction. CAPTAIN (CONT'D) Screwed up kid stabs her fifty three times. Where would he end up? The Captain bent over Alex, stabbing him. ALEX'S INTERNAL POV (INTERCUT WITH PREVIOUS) FLASHES move us backward along the path we've taken so far, a tour of hell on earth, the blast of infernal winds and the ever-present voice of the Captain, condemning. CAPTAIN'S VOICE Take a look! Strippers writhe at "The Hole." ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- 75. CAPTAIN'S VOICE (CONT'D) That's who you are! The Porsche explodes. CAPTAIN'S VOICE (CONT'D) You sick fuck! Look at it! Alex blasts Dutton. BAM! CAPTAIN'S VOICE (CONT'D) Every loser name anyone ever called you was true! Alex escapes the taser. Mercer drops. CAPTAIN'S VOICE (CONT'D) Are you looking? Answer me! Time SCREECHING to a halt, all the movement converging on a single, quiet image. One we've seen before... Alex in the chair. But his last words are different. ALEX I loved Lauren. I never meant to hurt her. ZAP. Electro-spasm as the switch is thrown. No scar, no meltdown, just violent fibrillations that moderate, finally as we MATCH TO... RESUME - THE CAPTAIN'S OFFICE The Captain shaking Alex, holding something in front of Alex's face. CAPTAIN You see it? Huh? Did you see it? Alex's eye's gone dead, no longer seeing... THE PHOTO - LAUREN AND ALEX IN THE WOODS arms around each other. Familiar, but on second take, it's like the crime scene photos... Lauren's NECK is SLASHED, her body riddled with stab wounds. Alex has a big smile on his face, his arm around her, her head on his shoulder. 100% sociopath. RESUME CAPTAIN (CONT'D) Yeah. I think you fucking saw it. The Captain drops Alex lifeless and bloody to the floor. Only the sound of the Captain panting now, then... The sound of slow clapping. Madden walks into the room from behind perimeter curtains. CLAP CLAP CLAP. ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- 76. MADDEN You were right. Picture's worth a thousand words. Madden kicks Alex lightly, nudging him. No life signes. The Captain rips the picture in two. Tosses it in the trash. CAPTAIN Just don't believe everything you see. MADDEN Doubt is a motherfucker. CAPTAIN Give me a hand with this sack of shit. INT. MYSTERY ROOM - NIGHT NEW ANGLE - THROUGH A WINDOW DARKLY Madden and the Captain grab Alex, one at each end. SECRETARY He's cute. Was cute. REVEAL, this is the Secretary's POV through the window. She's bent over someone's toes, painting them BLUE. WIDE. The Mystery Room revealed. Taxidermy specimens line the wall and the table. Erin stands in PROFILE in the middle of the room, strangely silent, hands tied overhead by a rope that runs to the ceiling. The Secretary brushing polish on Erin's toes. SECRETARY (CONT'D) But the face, well, makeup can work for you or against you. Right? The Secretary applies a last flourish of polish, then stands, kisses Erin gently. SECRETARY (CONT'D) All done. Very nice. (then) You're a good listener. The Secretary moves off REVEALING... ERIN'S FACE MOUTH SEWN shut in a rough zigzag stitch, like the scar. Her eyes dart as... THE DOOR opens. The Captain and Madden carry Alex in. Madden sweeps the TAXIDERMY SPECIMENS back with his hand, clearing a space for Alex on the table. Among them... ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- 77. THE CROW on its Corvus Brachyrhynchos stand takes a small hop backward, this sign of life unnoticed as... RESUME WHUMP. Alex heaved onto the table. MADDEN So was he dead? Or alive? The Secretary puts her ear to Alex's lifeless lips. CAPTAIN I've seen birds stuffed and mounted so lifelike you'd swear you saw them breathing. This reminds him... he looks at the Crow on the stand. Lifeless, stuffed. As it should be. CAPTAIN (CONT'D) Maybe we had a case of that here. (to Secretary) Get me my kit. MADDEN You two are majorly demented. Anyone ever tell you that? The Secretary steps off to grab thekit, leaving Alex's lifeless open eyes pointing toward Erin, reflected in his eyeballs first before... ANGLE - ERIN looking up at her own hands, bound above her as she eases them apart and... The HEART SHAPED LOCKET slips from between her palms and she closes them again in time to catch the chain, the locket swinging. ON THE TABLE X-CLOSE. The locket reflected in Alex's lifeless open eyes a second before... The Secretary returns, blocking the sightline. Lays out the Kit, nasty looking tools left over from the Inquisition. Then unbuttons Alex's tattered shirt, undressing him for the procedure. Stab wounds everywhere. SECRETARY Fifty three? CAPTAIN In all the excitement I kind of lost count. (then) I think I'll mount him with his head up his ass. A large KNIFE, the Lauren murder weapon, angles in at the base of Alex'sneck where the Secretary's head was. ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- 78. THE CROW - OVERCRANKED moves on the table. Takes flight. THE TRIO turn toward the commotion. CAPTAIN (CONT'D) Grab it! THE LOCKET - OVERCRANKED Snatched in midair by the Crow from Erin's praying hands. FLASH! ALEX/CROW'S INTERNAL POV HIGH ANGLE CROWVISION. Dim memories from the woods. Anamorphic and dark. Two figures--Alex and Erin--kneeling. RESUME - THE LOCKET released from the Crow's beak, passing through the TRIO'S HANDS uncaught, bouncing off Alex onto the table, in front of his open eyes. ALEX/CROW'S INTERNAL POV FLASH. AT GROUND LEVEL. Alex fastens the LOCKET around her neck. The distortion lessening, becoming Alex's POV. ALEX ... it connects you to me... FLASH. ERIN No matter what happens... you're innocent... I promise... FLASH. Alex painting her face. RESUME Alex BLINKS. The Captain reacts--oh shit--starts to bring the knife down, a hurried strike at Alex's chest. WAM! Alex grabs the Captain's arm in his hand, stopping the movement on a dime. ALEX All lies. Everything you ever showed me. MADDEN pulls a gun, points it at Erin. ALEX jumps up, flying INTO the gun as it goes off. CRASH! They tumble THROUGH THE WINDOW into the Captain's office while... THE CAPTAIN cuts down the rope holding Erin. She collapses... ON THE TABLE strewn with blades, secreting one between her hands, in the second before... THE CAPTAIN drags Erin off. The Secretary flails at the Crow with a metal ROD, while... IN THE CAPTAIN'S OFFICE Madden has the gun on Alex now. BAM! No effect. BAM! ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- 79. Madden sweating it now, continuing to shoot with no effect as... THE MYSTERY ROOM The Secretary finally connects with the Crow, batting it against the wall, noticing this coincides with... Alex goes flying against the desk, winged himself. Madden c Onfused, not understanding. SECRETARY (O.S.) It's the bird! Kill it! Madden wheels, points the gun through the busted-out picture window into... The SECRETARY dives for cover as bullets explode around her. The Crow dancing, sprayed with debris. CUT TO: INT. POLICE STATION - ELEVATOR - NIGHT CLOSE. Floor lights sequence above the door, heading for underground parking. "5 - 4 - 3..." The Captain watches the lights. Erin is slumped face first against the side of the elevator opposite him. CAPTAIN You brought him back. Good. He owes you. We'll stick together, you and I. ON ERIN face pressed against the elevator wall, intent. CAPTAIN (CONT'D) Seen but not heard. They ought to make it a law. Erin winces, looks down... THE BLADE emerging from her sleeve as she tries to hold it with her two bound hands. DING. The elevator jerks to a stop. THE CAPTAIN grabs her off the floor and she RAMS the blade into his abdomen with the force of the entire body. Twists it. The elevator doors open. ERIN pulls out the blade, claws her way out the door, the Captain hanging on to her, finally getting free as she swipes at him again, drawing fresh blood. Running now, into... INT. POLICE STATION - PARKING GARAGE - NIGHT Erin stumbles between cars in the dark underground garage, cutting the cord off her hands, leaving it behind as... ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- 80. Behind her, the Captain unsteady on his feet, a wounded animal. He pulls out a GLOCK 9MM and KA-CHUNK. Cycles it. Erin dives between cars, scrambling on hands and knees. Looks around. HER POV - SCANNING a small garage with a few police cruisers by a SERVICE AREA and no people. A barred GATE over the exit. No way out. ERIN winces. Then stifles a cry as she cuts the stitches off her mouth with the knife. Drops the threads on the floor and moves off... CUT TO: INT. POLICE STATION - CAPTAIN'S OFFICE - NIGHT Alex runs past the glass AWARDS CASE, takes a flying leap behind the desk, seeking cover as Madden empties a clip at him. The slide ratchets back. Madden SLAMS another clip in, advances on Alex, hidden behind the shredded desk as... THE SECRETARY clears stuffed birds off the table trying to expose the wounded crow cowering back against the wall. SECRETARY Here pretty bird. Here birdy. WHOP! She grabs it, the Crow flapping desperately as... IN THE CAPTAIN'S OFFICE Madden creeps up on the desk, peers over it. Nothing. Out of nowhere... WAM! Alex rushes Madden, bulldozing him across the room with a pained cry of brute force toward... THE AWARDS CASE CRASH! Glass shatters as Alex hurls Madden, who swivels around in time to get off a last shot BAM! That collapses Alex to the floor. IN THE MYSTERY ROOM The Crow squeezes out of the Secretary's grasp, leaving her holding a couple feathers. AT THE AWARD'S CASE Alex hauls himself off the floor as the Crow joins him. Seeing... MADDEN'S HEAD has taken its place among glass bowls and trophies, half decapitated by the glass shelf it now rests on. Down the shelf from the stuffed bird. ALEX rushes through the blown out window into... Seeing for the first time that Erin is gone, the rope hanging from the ceiling, finding... THE SECRETARY ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- 81. SECRETARY (CONT'D) sitting on the floor, painting her own toenails BLUE, leaning up against the wall. ALEX Where'd they go? Alex eases the Secretary to her feet with a hand around her neck, her back to the wall. She looks UP, smiling at... WALSH - RIGHT ARM MISSING hangs high overhead from some kind of hook. His arm has been crudely removed. Underneath him, on the table, a BOX of 2" surgical stainless steel rods sits by a pool of blood. ALEX yells, reeling, as... The door flies open. A half dozen cops in, all targeting Alex as... THE SECRETARY plunges the Lauren KNIFE in Alex's back. He spins violently THROWING her HARD against the wall. WAM! Surprise!-she sticks. REVEAL, she's impaled on ANTELOPE ANTLERS, hanging off the wall. Her head drops, looking down as a stream of blood flows down her legs, drips off her toes... SECRETARY (dying words) My nails. BAM BAM BAM. The new arrivals open fire. Alex reaches over his shoulder, yanks out the knife with an odd slurping sound as... CUT TO: INT. POLICE STATION - PARKING GARAGE The sound of GUNFIRE filters down from above as the Captain hunts his hidden prey. He stops, studies... ERIN'S POV - LOW ANGLE LOOKING UNDER A CAR The Captain's feet, joined by his hand as he picks up the thread she left on the ground. INCLUDE ERIN SECRETARY reproving herself as she turns toward camera. She looks back under the car, but... The Captain's feet have moved off. Where? She listens, hears nothing. Slips off... NEW ANGLE - ERIN takes refuge in the service area, crouching behind stacks of TIRES. Knife at the ready. ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- 82. The Captain's FOOTSTEPS audible. HER OBSTRUCTED POV between stacks of tires, the Captain, Glock at ready, PASSES BY, moving out of sight. Footsteps RECEDING. Then silent. ERIN Listening, neurons firing. Cranes her neck to see. Nothing. WIDER the Captain appears BEHIND ERIN, over the stacks of tires. She's oblivious, then... Erin wheels, slashes across his wrist. The Glock falls, Erin grabs it, levels it at the Captain. Her finger tense on the trigger. CAPTAIN (re: gun) I know you too well. You won't do it. ERIN You don't know me at all. BAM! She pulls the trigger, simultaneously wrenching the gun, aiming just enough off that... THE CAPTAIN yells in pain, rushes his hand to his ear, a bloody mess. He starts advancing again toward her and Erin pulls... THE TRIGGER again, again, again.

attained

How many times the word 'attained' appears in the text?

Alex starts off... BAM! He's blown back by a shot half lost in the noisy club. No panic yet. ONSTAGE the strippers break character, looking. The audience turns as... ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- 63. NEAR THE ENTRANCE The First Bouncer goes flying above the heads of the crowd, getting off a dramatic SHOT while airborne, inducing... PANDEMONIUM Patrons stampeding as BAM BAM! Alex taking bullets, the miracle lost in the chaotic exit. The Bouncers out of sight underfoot. ON ALEX visible again, back on his feet. Buffeted, stationary as everyone flees. With the exodus still at flood stage... CUT TO: INT. WALSH'S OFFICE - NIGHT ON WALSH, in motion as he puts on a jacket, throws some papers into a briefcase. He's nervous, ill-suited for this cloak and dagger stuff, chattering... WALSH We'll be safe in my car. Nobody will recognize it. Let's move yours in back, no, down the block. Hope it's nothing fancy. There's a chop shop around the corner. She's looking elsewhere, at the door that has quietly opened. The Captain stands there. Somber reptile. Holding a sheaf of papers in one hand. ERIN You followed me here. CAPTAIN No... Erin, I put out a bulletin on your car because... there's bad news. And I thought you should hear it from me. She stares at him expressionless. CAPTAIN (CONT'D) Your father got involved with some bad cops. On my force, so I take responsibility. (beat, then) He killed himself. She talks with great difficulty. ERIN How? CAPTAIN How did he kill himself? She nods. ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- 64. CAPTAIN (CONT'D) With a gun. Is that what you mean? ERIN No. I mean... how did he kill himself How do you figure he killed himself--with a gun, right--when it wasn't anywhere near where you found him? He takes a step toward her. She pulls out the Blood Pistol. Seems crazy enough to use it. ERIN (CONT'D) You killed him. WALSH Erin. Don't. ERIN Back the fuck off! Now! The Captain stops, gently tosses the sheaf of papers toward her, onto Walsh's desk. The papers Nathan was preparing. Walsh looks at them while... CAPTAIN He left this. Names, addresses, a note to you. These people he was involved with killed Lauren. He couldn't bear it anymore. WALSH My God. He's right, it's all here. ERIN The note. Show it to me. Erin has one eye on the papers now, recognizes her dad's hand. The Captain inches forward. ERIN (CONT'D) (to Captain) Not you! (to Walsh) Show it to me. The Captain steps forward, right to the desk. Erin backed into a corner now. CAPTAIN It's right there, under that paper. (grabs a note) Here. Look. She holds a hand out for the note, taking her eye off the situation for one second as she reads... ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- 65. THE NOTE A bunch of numbers added together in her father's hand. Not a suicide note. THE CAPTAIN grabs Erin's wrist and BAM! A chunk of the ceiling falls as the weapon discharges. The Captain throws her in a chokehold, her finger still on the trigger. CAPTAIN (CONT'D) You were always the stupid one. She fights as the Captain wraps his own hand over hers, wrestles her arm toward Walsh, in the sights now. BAM! WALSH blown backward, collapsing by the Chess Board. Trying to pull himself up. Erin struggling. As... MADDEN enters from the hall, in a hurry, gun drawn. MADDEN You need help? He nods toward Walsh, who is moving, barely. CAPTAIN Hurry. We don't have much time. BAM. A shot from Madden drops Walsh for god. As Madden drags Walsh toward the door, the Captain grabs... THE PICTURE OF ALEX AND LAUREN pulled off the lid of the Chess box, one of the pieces of tape left behind. The Captain exits. CUT TO: INT. "THE HOLE" - NIGHT MUSIC STILL POUNDS, lights swirl. But the club has cleared out, leaving human detritus, a handful of casualties from the stampede. WITH ALEX as he steps over the Two Bouncers, expired on the floor. A soft WHIMPERING marks the silence. The girl cuffed onstage. Alex goes up to the terrified girl. Close up, she looks way underage. He gathers her clothes, spots a key on the floor. ALEX How old are you? She listens as he unlocks the cuffs. ALEX (CONT'D) You have one chance to value your life. Take it. ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- 66. He watches as she hightails it out the front door, still half naked. As she leaves... THE CROW appears in the doorway near the broken bodies. Alex takes a deep breath, as if it hurts. The casualties. CAW. The Crow flies on, disappearing into the back rooms. Alex turns, follows... INT. "THE HOLE" - BACKSTAGE - NIGHT Alex moves past the empty makeup table. A lipstick cigarette smolders in an ashtray. People left in a hurry. MUSIC LOUD, as if inside our heads now. Alex continues... INT. "THE HOLE" - INTERNET PORN FACILITY Nobody home. Empty images refreshed every six seconds. Number of hits static now. Alex drawn now by the "No Admittance" Curtain which he approaches slowly, touching it and FLASH! ALEX'S INTERNAL POV - LAUREN looking over her shoulder, pulling back the "No Admittance" Curtain, going where she shouldn't go. ALEX Lauren? You were here? Lauren makes her stealthy way into.... INT. "THE HOLE" - BACK HALL - NIGHT revealed as Alex slips past the Curtain, retracing Lauren's footsteps. CAMERA FOLLOWS Alex CREEPING down the hall to... ALEX'S INTERNAL POV - LAUREN down the hall, peering inside the partially open Back Room door, then turning back startled TOWARD CAMERA as if suddenly overtaken. AT THE DOOR Alex turns back, like Lauren, looks behind him. The hallway is empty. He enters... INT. "THE HOLE" - BACK ROOM - NIGHT Darkness. As Alex gropes for a lightswitch, a LIGHTER FLARES. Toomey and Larkin lean in, light up in synch. Alex takes in the dark fringes, dim reflections off lots of eyes. Not taxidermy specimens. BAM BAM BAM BAM. A dozen police officers lining the walls empty cartridges into Alex in an angry, STROBING fusillade. In the silence that follows... LARKIN (after the fact) Don't move. ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- 67. The gang LAUGHS. Larkin makes his way to a light switch by the door. LARKIN (CONT'D) Drinks are on me. Larkin flips on the low-watt BARE BULBS hanging down past industrial pipes and conduit, casting a dim light on the cinderblock space. NO ALEX. ALEX Cheers. They look up and... BAM! Alex DROPS LARKIN with a shot to the forehead. BAM! He MISSES TOOMEY as bullets from below EXPLODE all around him. Alex scampers across framing as... The BARE BULBS burst, all but one, plunging us back in to near darkness as Alex drops to the ground near Larkin's fallen body. Jacks up the sleeve. No scar. Alex spots Toomey, rolls out as... THREE COPS pump rounds into Alex. BAM! Alex takes the middle Cop out, a TOONEY-LIKE GUY who falls onto Toomey, behind him. ALEX turns, forced to defend himself as FULL AUTO FIRE breaks open, the other flank, more advancing cops. While... TOOMEY crawls out from under the fallen copy, then backs out the door on hands and knees while... A FINAL EXPLOSIVE FUSILLADE leaves only Alex standing. As the echoes dissolve... Alex Alex moves to where Toomey was, bends down to check the body... THE NAMEPLATE - "TOOMEY" But the pin isn't fastened properly. The badge askew. RESUME - ALEX rolls the body over, finds another nameplate underneath. "Hauser." Heads off in search of... ALEX (CONT'D) Toomey! INT - "THE HOLE" - INTERNET PORN FACILITY - NIGHT Toomey is clearing the "No Admittance" curtain when... ALEX You dripped something! Toomey panics as he approaches... ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- 68. INTERNET FANTASY SETS Monitors still updating every six seconds. Toomey hears Alex coming, slips through the "Dungeon." BEHIND THE SHOWER FANTASY SET Toomey takes refuge out of sight, next to a GAS HOT WATER HEATER, quiet as a mouse. ALEX tears the "No Admittance" curtain completely off its rod, arriving at the fantasy sets just in time to see... THE DUNGEON MONITOR Toomey (frozen) scurrying through. Gone now as the monitor updates. Then Alex appears, following him through the set... WITH ALEX moving to the rear of the "dungeon," on Toomey's heels. WAM. Toomey hits him full force with A PIPE, sending Alex sprawling backward, COLLAPSING the flimsy Shower set. WAM. Toomey swings again, misses Alex, but connects with... THE GAS LINE to the water heater ripped out by the blow. HISS. The sound of gas, loud, as the line breaks. RESUME Alex straddles Toomey, just as Toomey manages to get his gun pointed in Alex's face. Hissing gas nearby. CLICK. Toomey cocks the gun. ALEX (CONT'D) Spark, gas... bad combination. And it's not this leak here, that's the least of your worries. WAM! Alex swings Toomey's pipe HARD at a much bigger GAS LINE right behind the gas heater, leaving it badly cracked. The hiss magnified 100% nos. ALEX (CONT'D) We're going to play a little game called "Who's got the Scar." TOOMEY What Scar? What fucking scar? ALEX (buzzer sound) AAAANK. That's not how we play the game. Alex jacks Toomey's sleeve down. No Scar. Alex pissed as Toomey locks eyes with him. Really seeing him now. TOOMEY You're him! You're Corvis! We fried your ass. You're dead, man! ALEX Good thing in a situation like this. We pick up... ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- 69. INT. "THE HOLE" - BACK ROOM - NIGHT Some light filters in as a door opens to the outside. A FIGURE enters, squats among the bodies. He leans in, closes larkin's eyes, and we see... It's Madden. Blood on his hands. He hears Alex's VOICE faintly, then Toomey cries out in pain. Madden moves toward... INT. "THE HOLE" - INTERNET PORN FACILITY - NIGHT Madden creeps down the hallway to the back room. VOICES growing louder. TOOMEY Fucking Zombie. ALEX The scar. TOOMEY There is no scar. I'm telling you. As Madden moves toward the conversation, his face registers the slightest of smiles. MADDEN'S CREEPING POV MONITORS obliquely visible as he reaches the end of the hall by the Fantasy sets. The "Shower" monitor shows Alex and Toomey, visible through the trashed set, updated every six seconds. MADDEN SNIFFS gas. The HISS now audible along with Alex's voice. Madden smiles. Pulls out his 9mm. And BACKS UP, away from the Fantasy Sets toward the back room. Madden takes aim at... THE FIRST MONITOR The images is Alex threatening Toomey. Updating now--LOSING ALEX on the Monitor as he steps into frame in person, looks up and BAM! CROWVISION a speeding bullet passes narrowly by and... ANGLE - GROUND ZERO as the bullet hits the monitor in a shower of sparks, followed by... BOOM! A ROILING FIREBALL Seems to vaporize Alex before flying down the hallway right at CAMERA. Madden manages a couple steps in retreat before it blows him into the back room with a deafening roar. EXT. "THE HOLE" - INFERNO - NIGHT BOOM! Windows blow out in a gas fired inferno. A body flung out the rear door. BOOM! ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- 70. EXT. "THE HOLE" - NIGHT Interior/exterior being less meaningful than seconds ago. Walls crumbled, roof blown off. BRIGHT FIRE consumes the frame, consumes the bodies of downed cops, consumes every last bit of oxygen and life. Distant SIRENS draw closer. A SLOW SCAN, someone's OBSTRUCTED POV of Hell. INCLUDE ALEX watching from under a collapsed cinderblock wall that offers some protection from the flames, if not the heat. He looks, intent now, spotting... THE ARM WITH THE ZIGZAG SCARIFICATION sticking out of the rubble, murky through the flames, growing clearer as camera PUSHES, flames licking at it... ALEX tries to move toward the arm. Forced back by too- intense flame as another beam falls, the rubble shifts and... THE ARM WITH THE ZIGZAG SCARIFICATION skeletal now, baked down to bones. A dozen short metal rods on the ground under it. He picks a few up. THE CAPTAIN drawn now to... UNDER THE RUBBLE - WHERE ALEX WAS water dripping off the concrete, collecting in the place where Alex hid. But he's long gone. The Captain drops the rods. Satisfied it's over. CUT TO: EXT. CITY STREET #5 - NIGHT Alex staggers along in bad shape. Up ahead... A GIRL in her twenties exits a building down a flight of stairs, waits at the bottom for her BOYFRIEND, who's locking the door. She sees Alex, gives him an empathetic look. Alex walks slowly closer. ALEX'S INTERNAL POV Lauren appearing to him, playing their game. But the words are wrong, distorted. LAUREN Your witness list is no match for my kung fu. Her Bruce Lee "Oooo" a siren call. RESUME Alex moving slowly forward on the street, drawn toward the girl who watches with horrified fascination. ALEX I'm losing you. ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- 71. ALEX'S INTERNAL POV LAUREN Your zigzag love scar is no match for... Lauren and Alex drawing very close now when... RESUME WAM. A FIST clocks Alex in the face, dropping him hard onto the pavement. GIRL Did you have to do that? BOYFRIEND How about "thank you." GIRL He's bleeding. ALEX I don't bleed. BOYFRIEND And delirious. Better steer clear. ALEX'S POV The Guy wraps his arm protectively around the girl, walks her off. Running into a COP at the next intersection. They POINT at... ALEX takes off, ducking into an alley. Confused. CAMERA CREEPS BACKWARD as he gathers his thoughts. CUT TO: INT. WALSH'S OFFICE - NIGHT RATTLE RATTLE. Alex's shadow visible through the frosted glass, jostling the locked door. ALEX Erin! SMASH. His arm PUNCHES through the glass, turn the knob. Alex enters, arm bleeding badly. He yanks a large piece of glass from his flesh. Painful. Alex registers that the rules have changed. He finds a necktie of Walsh's, uses it to bind the wound, staunch the flow. He scans the room again looking for... Something. But everything seems ok. He passes... The Chess Box, the picture of Lauren and Alex gone. Just a piece of TAPE left, sticking to the top of the open lid. ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- 72. OVER THE CHESS BOARD - ALEX the missing pic lost on him, drawn to the chess board where Walsh collapsed. Something wrong with the game. He finds... THE BLACK KING Off the board. On top of a stack of news clippings lying on the floor. Alex picks it up, LEAVING a RING OF BLOOD under. CAMERA PUSHES on the clipping underneath, the headline "City Leaders Vow Crackdown in Wake of Randall Murder." PUSHING, finding among the City Leaders... ALEX (CONT'D) The King. THE CAPTAIN'S FACE circled in blood. Camera continues to PUSH on the grainy newsprint, through it, until all we see are halftone pixels and the picture loses meaning. EXT. CITY - AIRBORNE - NIGHT The Police Station in sinister CROWVISION as we approach, swoop in and... INT. POLICE STATION - HALLWAY Alex walks the long approach to the Captain's office, past the empty Secretary's desk. KICKING the door open CRASH! into... INT. POLICE STATION - CAPTAIN'S OFFICE The Captain works alone at his desk under a standing lamp. Looks up unconcerned as Alex enters, walks to the desk, and SLAPS down the ring-of-blood clipping. CAPTAIN I hate that picture. ALEX Where are they? CAPTAIN Can I get you something? A glass of water? A transfusion? ALEX Where are they? Last chance. CAPTAIN Or what? You'll bleed all over my carpet? The Captain rises. CAPTAIN (CONT'D) You know crime was actually down until you showed up, or stuck (MORE) ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- 73. CAPTAIN (CONT'D) around, or whatever the hell you're doing here. (then) What are you doing here? ALEX I'm looking for my friends. CAPTAIN See, I heard you were looking for some guy with a scar. How's that going? You find him? Yes? No? Alex tenses as the Captain starts toward him. CAPTAIN (CONT'D) You are like the guest who would not leave, you know that? And judging from your condition, maybe you've overstayed your welcome. That's not a criticism. Just an observation. Alex draws the knife from his clothes. CAPTAIN (CONT'D) I don't think you're going to use it. That's Lauren's knife. Enraged, Alex SWIPES the knife. The Captain grabs his arm right at the blood soaked necktie, squeezes hard. Alex writhes in pain. In each other's faces now. CAPTAIN (CONT'D) You come in here al lfull of righteous indignation, but what have you got to be righteous about? THE KNIFE starting to fall from Alex's hand as the Captain continues to clamp down on his wound. CAPTAIN (CONT'D) How many innocent people did you leave dead back there? ALEX You sent them. I had no choice. CAPTAIN Bullshit. You're a killer, that's all you are. A clown with a bird and a rising death toll. You think the world did you wrong?! You did the world wrong. The Captain snatches the knife, RAMS it into Alex's midriff. ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- 74. CAPTAIN (CONT'D) You and Lauren had a fight. You couldn't let it go. FLASH EXT. OLD GROWTH GROVE - DAY ALEX'S INTERNAL POV Lauren in tears in Alex's car. LAUREN I can't say. ALEX He grabs for her. She pulls violently away. LAUREN Don't touch me! RESUME INT. POLICE STATION - CAPTAIN'S OFFICE - NIGHT WHOOMP. Another stab into Alex. There will be fifty three. CAPTAIN It was one thing her dad rejected you. But when she did you lost it. ALEX You're wrong. CAPTAIN Yeah? I see doubt oozing out your arm. Where do people go when they kill their girlfriends? FLASH ALEX'S INTERNAL POV Alex back at the inferno, cowering from flames. RESUME The Captain full of righteous conviction. CAPTAIN (CONT'D) Screwed up kid stabs her fifty three times. Where would he end up? The Captain bent over Alex, stabbing him. ALEX'S INTERNAL POV (INTERCUT WITH PREVIOUS) FLASHES move us backward along the path we've taken so far, a tour of hell on earth, the blast of infernal winds and the ever-present voice of the Captain, condemning. CAPTAIN'S VOICE Take a look! Strippers writhe at "The Hole." ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- 75. CAPTAIN'S VOICE (CONT'D) That's who you are! The Porsche explodes. CAPTAIN'S VOICE (CONT'D) You sick fuck! Look at it! Alex blasts Dutton. BAM! CAPTAIN'S VOICE (CONT'D) Every loser name anyone ever called you was true! Alex escapes the taser. Mercer drops. CAPTAIN'S VOICE (CONT'D) Are you looking? Answer me! Time SCREECHING to a halt, all the movement converging on a single, quiet image. One we've seen before... Alex in the chair. But his last words are different. ALEX I loved Lauren. I never meant to hurt her. ZAP. Electro-spasm as the switch is thrown. No scar, no meltdown, just violent fibrillations that moderate, finally as we MATCH TO... RESUME - THE CAPTAIN'S OFFICE The Captain shaking Alex, holding something in front of Alex's face. CAPTAIN You see it? Huh? Did you see it? Alex's eye's gone dead, no longer seeing... THE PHOTO - LAUREN AND ALEX IN THE WOODS arms around each other. Familiar, but on second take, it's like the crime scene photos... Lauren's NECK is SLASHED, her body riddled with stab wounds. Alex has a big smile on his face, his arm around her, her head on his shoulder. 100% sociopath. RESUME CAPTAIN (CONT'D) Yeah. I think you fucking saw it. The Captain drops Alex lifeless and bloody to the floor. Only the sound of the Captain panting now, then... The sound of slow clapping. Madden walks into the room from behind perimeter curtains. CLAP CLAP CLAP. ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- 76. MADDEN You were right. Picture's worth a thousand words. Madden kicks Alex lightly, nudging him. No life signes. The Captain rips the picture in two. Tosses it in the trash. CAPTAIN Just don't believe everything you see. MADDEN Doubt is a motherfucker. CAPTAIN Give me a hand with this sack of shit. INT. MYSTERY ROOM - NIGHT NEW ANGLE - THROUGH A WINDOW DARKLY Madden and the Captain grab Alex, one at each end. SECRETARY He's cute. Was cute. REVEAL, this is the Secretary's POV through the window. She's bent over someone's toes, painting them BLUE. WIDE. The Mystery Room revealed. Taxidermy specimens line the wall and the table. Erin stands in PROFILE in the middle of the room, strangely silent, hands tied overhead by a rope that runs to the ceiling. The Secretary brushing polish on Erin's toes. SECRETARY (CONT'D) But the face, well, makeup can work for you or against you. Right? The Secretary applies a last flourish of polish, then stands, kisses Erin gently. SECRETARY (CONT'D) All done. Very nice. (then) You're a good listener. The Secretary moves off REVEALING... ERIN'S FACE MOUTH SEWN shut in a rough zigzag stitch, like the scar. Her eyes dart as... THE DOOR opens. The Captain and Madden carry Alex in. Madden sweeps the TAXIDERMY SPECIMENS back with his hand, clearing a space for Alex on the table. Among them... ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- 77. THE CROW on its Corvus Brachyrhynchos stand takes a small hop backward, this sign of life unnoticed as... RESUME WHUMP. Alex heaved onto the table. MADDEN So was he dead? Or alive? The Secretary puts her ear to Alex's lifeless lips. CAPTAIN I've seen birds stuffed and mounted so lifelike you'd swear you saw them breathing. This reminds him... he looks at the Crow on the stand. Lifeless, stuffed. As it should be. CAPTAIN (CONT'D) Maybe we had a case of that here. (to Secretary) Get me my kit. MADDEN You two are majorly demented. Anyone ever tell you that? The Secretary steps off to grab thekit, leaving Alex's lifeless open eyes pointing toward Erin, reflected in his eyeballs first before... ANGLE - ERIN looking up at her own hands, bound above her as she eases them apart and... The HEART SHAPED LOCKET slips from between her palms and she closes them again in time to catch the chain, the locket swinging. ON THE TABLE X-CLOSE. The locket reflected in Alex's lifeless open eyes a second before... The Secretary returns, blocking the sightline. Lays out the Kit, nasty looking tools left over from the Inquisition. Then unbuttons Alex's tattered shirt, undressing him for the procedure. Stab wounds everywhere. SECRETARY Fifty three? CAPTAIN In all the excitement I kind of lost count. (then) I think I'll mount him with his head up his ass. A large KNIFE, the Lauren murder weapon, angles in at the base of Alex'sneck where the Secretary's head was. ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- 78. THE CROW - OVERCRANKED moves on the table. Takes flight. THE TRIO turn toward the commotion. CAPTAIN (CONT'D) Grab it! THE LOCKET - OVERCRANKED Snatched in midair by the Crow from Erin's praying hands. FLASH! ALEX/CROW'S INTERNAL POV HIGH ANGLE CROWVISION. Dim memories from the woods. Anamorphic and dark. Two figures--Alex and Erin--kneeling. RESUME - THE LOCKET released from the Crow's beak, passing through the TRIO'S HANDS uncaught, bouncing off Alex onto the table, in front of his open eyes. ALEX/CROW'S INTERNAL POV FLASH. AT GROUND LEVEL. Alex fastens the LOCKET around her neck. The distortion lessening, becoming Alex's POV. ALEX ... it connects you to me... FLASH. ERIN No matter what happens... you're innocent... I promise... FLASH. Alex painting her face. RESUME Alex BLINKS. The Captain reacts--oh shit--starts to bring the knife down, a hurried strike at Alex's chest. WAM! Alex grabs the Captain's arm in his hand, stopping the movement on a dime. ALEX All lies. Everything you ever showed me. MADDEN pulls a gun, points it at Erin. ALEX jumps up, flying INTO the gun as it goes off. CRASH! They tumble THROUGH THE WINDOW into the Captain's office while... THE CAPTAIN cuts down the rope holding Erin. She collapses... ON THE TABLE strewn with blades, secreting one between her hands, in the second before... THE CAPTAIN drags Erin off. The Secretary flails at the Crow with a metal ROD, while... IN THE CAPTAIN'S OFFICE Madden has the gun on Alex now. BAM! No effect. BAM! ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- 79. Madden sweating it now, continuing to shoot with no effect as... THE MYSTERY ROOM The Secretary finally connects with the Crow, batting it against the wall, noticing this coincides with... Alex goes flying against the desk, winged himself. Madden c Onfused, not understanding. SECRETARY (O.S.) It's the bird! Kill it! Madden wheels, points the gun through the busted-out picture window into... The SECRETARY dives for cover as bullets explode around her. The Crow dancing, sprayed with debris. CUT TO: INT. POLICE STATION - ELEVATOR - NIGHT CLOSE. Floor lights sequence above the door, heading for underground parking. "5 - 4 - 3..." The Captain watches the lights. Erin is slumped face first against the side of the elevator opposite him. CAPTAIN You brought him back. Good. He owes you. We'll stick together, you and I. ON ERIN face pressed against the elevator wall, intent. CAPTAIN (CONT'D) Seen but not heard. They ought to make it a law. Erin winces, looks down... THE BLADE emerging from her sleeve as she tries to hold it with her two bound hands. DING. The elevator jerks to a stop. THE CAPTAIN grabs her off the floor and she RAMS the blade into his abdomen with the force of the entire body. Twists it. The elevator doors open. ERIN pulls out the blade, claws her way out the door, the Captain hanging on to her, finally getting free as she swipes at him again, drawing fresh blood. Running now, into... INT. POLICE STATION - PARKING GARAGE - NIGHT Erin stumbles between cars in the dark underground garage, cutting the cord off her hands, leaving it behind as... ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- 80. Behind her, the Captain unsteady on his feet, a wounded animal. He pulls out a GLOCK 9MM and KA-CHUNK. Cycles it. Erin dives between cars, scrambling on hands and knees. Looks around. HER POV - SCANNING a small garage with a few police cruisers by a SERVICE AREA and no people. A barred GATE over the exit. No way out. ERIN winces. Then stifles a cry as she cuts the stitches off her mouth with the knife. Drops the threads on the floor and moves off... CUT TO: INT. POLICE STATION - CAPTAIN'S OFFICE - NIGHT Alex runs past the glass AWARDS CASE, takes a flying leap behind the desk, seeking cover as Madden empties a clip at him. The slide ratchets back. Madden SLAMS another clip in, advances on Alex, hidden behind the shredded desk as... THE SECRETARY clears stuffed birds off the table trying to expose the wounded crow cowering back against the wall. SECRETARY Here pretty bird. Here birdy. WHOP! She grabs it, the Crow flapping desperately as... IN THE CAPTAIN'S OFFICE Madden creeps up on the desk, peers over it. Nothing. Out of nowhere... WAM! Alex rushes Madden, bulldozing him across the room with a pained cry of brute force toward... THE AWARDS CASE CRASH! Glass shatters as Alex hurls Madden, who swivels around in time to get off a last shot BAM! That collapses Alex to the floor. IN THE MYSTERY ROOM The Crow squeezes out of the Secretary's grasp, leaving her holding a couple feathers. AT THE AWARD'S CASE Alex hauls himself off the floor as the Crow joins him. Seeing... MADDEN'S HEAD has taken its place among glass bowls and trophies, half decapitated by the glass shelf it now rests on. Down the shelf from the stuffed bird. ALEX rushes through the blown out window into... Seeing for the first time that Erin is gone, the rope hanging from the ceiling, finding... THE SECRETARY ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- 81. SECRETARY (CONT'D) sitting on the floor, painting her own toenails BLUE, leaning up against the wall. ALEX Where'd they go? Alex eases the Secretary to her feet with a hand around her neck, her back to the wall. She looks UP, smiling at... WALSH - RIGHT ARM MISSING hangs high overhead from some kind of hook. His arm has been crudely removed. Underneath him, on the table, a BOX of 2" surgical stainless steel rods sits by a pool of blood. ALEX yells, reeling, as... The door flies open. A half dozen cops in, all targeting Alex as... THE SECRETARY plunges the Lauren KNIFE in Alex's back. He spins violently THROWING her HARD against the wall. WAM! Surprise!-she sticks. REVEAL, she's impaled on ANTELOPE ANTLERS, hanging off the wall. Her head drops, looking down as a stream of blood flows down her legs, drips off her toes... SECRETARY (dying words) My nails. BAM BAM BAM. The new arrivals open fire. Alex reaches over his shoulder, yanks out the knife with an odd slurping sound as... CUT TO: INT. POLICE STATION - PARKING GARAGE The sound of GUNFIRE filters down from above as the Captain hunts his hidden prey. He stops, studies... ERIN'S POV - LOW ANGLE LOOKING UNDER A CAR The Captain's feet, joined by his hand as he picks up the thread she left on the ground. INCLUDE ERIN SECRETARY reproving herself as she turns toward camera. She looks back under the car, but... The Captain's feet have moved off. Where? She listens, hears nothing. Slips off... NEW ANGLE - ERIN takes refuge in the service area, crouching behind stacks of TIRES. Knife at the ready. ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- 82. The Captain's FOOTSTEPS audible. HER OBSTRUCTED POV between stacks of tires, the Captain, Glock at ready, PASSES BY, moving out of sight. Footsteps RECEDING. Then silent. ERIN Listening, neurons firing. Cranes her neck to see. Nothing. WIDER the Captain appears BEHIND ERIN, over the stacks of tires. She's oblivious, then... Erin wheels, slashes across his wrist. The Glock falls, Erin grabs it, levels it at the Captain. Her finger tense on the trigger. CAPTAIN (re: gun) I know you too well. You won't do it. ERIN You don't know me at all. BAM! She pulls the trigger, simultaneously wrenching the gun, aiming just enough off that... THE CAPTAIN yells in pain, rushes his hand to his ear, a bloody mess. He starts advancing again toward her and Erin pulls... THE TRIGGER again, again, again.

hightails

How many times the word 'hightails' appears in the text?

Alex starts off... BAM! He's blown back by a shot half lost in the noisy club. No panic yet. ONSTAGE the strippers break character, looking. The audience turns as... ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- 63. NEAR THE ENTRANCE The First Bouncer goes flying above the heads of the crowd, getting off a dramatic SHOT while airborne, inducing... PANDEMONIUM Patrons stampeding as BAM BAM! Alex taking bullets, the miracle lost in the chaotic exit. The Bouncers out of sight underfoot. ON ALEX visible again, back on his feet. Buffeted, stationary as everyone flees. With the exodus still at flood stage... CUT TO: INT. WALSH'S OFFICE - NIGHT ON WALSH, in motion as he puts on a jacket, throws some papers into a briefcase. He's nervous, ill-suited for this cloak and dagger stuff, chattering... WALSH We'll be safe in my car. Nobody will recognize it. Let's move yours in back, no, down the block. Hope it's nothing fancy. There's a chop shop around the corner. She's looking elsewhere, at the door that has quietly opened. The Captain stands there. Somber reptile. Holding a sheaf of papers in one hand. ERIN You followed me here. CAPTAIN No... Erin, I put out a bulletin on your car because... there's bad news. And I thought you should hear it from me. She stares at him expressionless. CAPTAIN (CONT'D) Your father got involved with some bad cops. On my force, so I take responsibility. (beat, then) He killed himself. She talks with great difficulty. ERIN How? CAPTAIN How did he kill himself? She nods. ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- 64. CAPTAIN (CONT'D) With a gun. Is that what you mean? ERIN No. I mean... how did he kill himself How do you figure he killed himself--with a gun, right--when it wasn't anywhere near where you found him? He takes a step toward her. She pulls out the Blood Pistol. Seems crazy enough to use it. ERIN (CONT'D) You killed him. WALSH Erin. Don't. ERIN Back the fuck off! Now! The Captain stops, gently tosses the sheaf of papers toward her, onto Walsh's desk. The papers Nathan was preparing. Walsh looks at them while... CAPTAIN He left this. Names, addresses, a note to you. These people he was involved with killed Lauren. He couldn't bear it anymore. WALSH My God. He's right, it's all here. ERIN The note. Show it to me. Erin has one eye on the papers now, recognizes her dad's hand. The Captain inches forward. ERIN (CONT'D) (to Captain) Not you! (to Walsh) Show it to me. The Captain steps forward, right to the desk. Erin backed into a corner now. CAPTAIN It's right there, under that paper. (grabs a note) Here. Look. She holds a hand out for the note, taking her eye off the situation for one second as she reads... ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- 65. THE NOTE A bunch of numbers added together in her father's hand. Not a suicide note. THE CAPTAIN grabs Erin's wrist and BAM! A chunk of the ceiling falls as the weapon discharges. The Captain throws her in a chokehold, her finger still on the trigger. CAPTAIN (CONT'D) You were always the stupid one. She fights as the Captain wraps his own hand over hers, wrestles her arm toward Walsh, in the sights now. BAM! WALSH blown backward, collapsing by the Chess Board. Trying to pull himself up. Erin struggling. As... MADDEN enters from the hall, in a hurry, gun drawn. MADDEN You need help? He nods toward Walsh, who is moving, barely. CAPTAIN Hurry. We don't have much time. BAM. A shot from Madden drops Walsh for god. As Madden drags Walsh toward the door, the Captain grabs... THE PICTURE OF ALEX AND LAUREN pulled off the lid of the Chess box, one of the pieces of tape left behind. The Captain exits. CUT TO: INT. "THE HOLE" - NIGHT MUSIC STILL POUNDS, lights swirl. But the club has cleared out, leaving human detritus, a handful of casualties from the stampede. WITH ALEX as he steps over the Two Bouncers, expired on the floor. A soft WHIMPERING marks the silence. The girl cuffed onstage. Alex goes up to the terrified girl. Close up, she looks way underage. He gathers her clothes, spots a key on the floor. ALEX How old are you? She listens as he unlocks the cuffs. ALEX (CONT'D) You have one chance to value your life. Take it. ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- 66. He watches as she hightails it out the front door, still half naked. As she leaves... THE CROW appears in the doorway near the broken bodies. Alex takes a deep breath, as if it hurts. The casualties. CAW. The Crow flies on, disappearing into the back rooms. Alex turns, follows... INT. "THE HOLE" - BACKSTAGE - NIGHT Alex moves past the empty makeup table. A lipstick cigarette smolders in an ashtray. People left in a hurry. MUSIC LOUD, as if inside our heads now. Alex continues... INT. "THE HOLE" - INTERNET PORN FACILITY Nobody home. Empty images refreshed every six seconds. Number of hits static now. Alex drawn now by the "No Admittance" Curtain which he approaches slowly, touching it and FLASH! ALEX'S INTERNAL POV - LAUREN looking over her shoulder, pulling back the "No Admittance" Curtain, going where she shouldn't go. ALEX Lauren? You were here? Lauren makes her stealthy way into.... INT. "THE HOLE" - BACK HALL - NIGHT revealed as Alex slips past the Curtain, retracing Lauren's footsteps. CAMERA FOLLOWS Alex CREEPING down the hall to... ALEX'S INTERNAL POV - LAUREN down the hall, peering inside the partially open Back Room door, then turning back startled TOWARD CAMERA as if suddenly overtaken. AT THE DOOR Alex turns back, like Lauren, looks behind him. The hallway is empty. He enters... INT. "THE HOLE" - BACK ROOM - NIGHT Darkness. As Alex gropes for a lightswitch, a LIGHTER FLARES. Toomey and Larkin lean in, light up in synch. Alex takes in the dark fringes, dim reflections off lots of eyes. Not taxidermy specimens. BAM BAM BAM BAM. A dozen police officers lining the walls empty cartridges into Alex in an angry, STROBING fusillade. In the silence that follows... LARKIN (after the fact) Don't move. ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- 67. The gang LAUGHS. Larkin makes his way to a light switch by the door. LARKIN (CONT'D) Drinks are on me. Larkin flips on the low-watt BARE BULBS hanging down past industrial pipes and conduit, casting a dim light on the cinderblock space. NO ALEX. ALEX Cheers. They look up and... BAM! Alex DROPS LARKIN with a shot to the forehead. BAM! He MISSES TOOMEY as bullets from below EXPLODE all around him. Alex scampers across framing as... The BARE BULBS burst, all but one, plunging us back in to near darkness as Alex drops to the ground near Larkin's fallen body. Jacks up the sleeve. No scar. Alex spots Toomey, rolls out as... THREE COPS pump rounds into Alex. BAM! Alex takes the middle Cop out, a TOONEY-LIKE GUY who falls onto Toomey, behind him. ALEX turns, forced to defend himself as FULL AUTO FIRE breaks open, the other flank, more advancing cops. While... TOOMEY crawls out from under the fallen copy, then backs out the door on hands and knees while... A FINAL EXPLOSIVE FUSILLADE leaves only Alex standing. As the echoes dissolve... Alex Alex moves to where Toomey was, bends down to check the body... THE NAMEPLATE - "TOOMEY" But the pin isn't fastened properly. The badge askew. RESUME - ALEX rolls the body over, finds another nameplate underneath. "Hauser." Heads off in search of... ALEX (CONT'D) Toomey! INT - "THE HOLE" - INTERNET PORN FACILITY - NIGHT Toomey is clearing the "No Admittance" curtain when... ALEX You dripped something! Toomey panics as he approaches... ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- 68. INTERNET FANTASY SETS Monitors still updating every six seconds. Toomey hears Alex coming, slips through the "Dungeon." BEHIND THE SHOWER FANTASY SET Toomey takes refuge out of sight, next to a GAS HOT WATER HEATER, quiet as a mouse. ALEX tears the "No Admittance" curtain completely off its rod, arriving at the fantasy sets just in time to see... THE DUNGEON MONITOR Toomey (frozen) scurrying through. Gone now as the monitor updates. Then Alex appears, following him through the set... WITH ALEX moving to the rear of the "dungeon," on Toomey's heels. WAM. Toomey hits him full force with A PIPE, sending Alex sprawling backward, COLLAPSING the flimsy Shower set. WAM. Toomey swings again, misses Alex, but connects with... THE GAS LINE to the water heater ripped out by the blow. HISS. The sound of gas, loud, as the line breaks. RESUME Alex straddles Toomey, just as Toomey manages to get his gun pointed in Alex's face. Hissing gas nearby. CLICK. Toomey cocks the gun. ALEX (CONT'D) Spark, gas... bad combination. And it's not this leak here, that's the least of your worries. WAM! Alex swings Toomey's pipe HARD at a much bigger GAS LINE right behind the gas heater, leaving it badly cracked. The hiss magnified 100% nos. ALEX (CONT'D) We're going to play a little game called "Who's got the Scar." TOOMEY What Scar? What fucking scar? ALEX (buzzer sound) AAAANK. That's not how we play the game. Alex jacks Toomey's sleeve down. No Scar. Alex pissed as Toomey locks eyes with him. Really seeing him now. TOOMEY You're him! You're Corvis! We fried your ass. You're dead, man! ALEX Good thing in a situation like this. We pick up... ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- 69. INT. "THE HOLE" - BACK ROOM - NIGHT Some light filters in as a door opens to the outside. A FIGURE enters, squats among the bodies. He leans in, closes larkin's eyes, and we see... It's Madden. Blood on his hands. He hears Alex's VOICE faintly, then Toomey cries out in pain. Madden moves toward... INT. "THE HOLE" - INTERNET PORN FACILITY - NIGHT Madden creeps down the hallway to the back room. VOICES growing louder. TOOMEY Fucking Zombie. ALEX The scar. TOOMEY There is no scar. I'm telling you. As Madden moves toward the conversation, his face registers the slightest of smiles. MADDEN'S CREEPING POV MONITORS obliquely visible as he reaches the end of the hall by the Fantasy sets. The "Shower" monitor shows Alex and Toomey, visible through the trashed set, updated every six seconds. MADDEN SNIFFS gas. The HISS now audible along with Alex's voice. Madden smiles. Pulls out his 9mm. And BACKS UP, away from the Fantasy Sets toward the back room. Madden takes aim at... THE FIRST MONITOR The images is Alex threatening Toomey. Updating now--LOSING ALEX on the Monitor as he steps into frame in person, looks up and BAM! CROWVISION a speeding bullet passes narrowly by and... ANGLE - GROUND ZERO as the bullet hits the monitor in a shower of sparks, followed by... BOOM! A ROILING FIREBALL Seems to vaporize Alex before flying down the hallway right at CAMERA. Madden manages a couple steps in retreat before it blows him into the back room with a deafening roar. EXT. "THE HOLE" - INFERNO - NIGHT BOOM! Windows blow out in a gas fired inferno. A body flung out the rear door. BOOM! ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- 70. EXT. "THE HOLE" - NIGHT Interior/exterior being less meaningful than seconds ago. Walls crumbled, roof blown off. BRIGHT FIRE consumes the frame, consumes the bodies of downed cops, consumes every last bit of oxygen and life. Distant SIRENS draw closer. A SLOW SCAN, someone's OBSTRUCTED POV of Hell. INCLUDE ALEX watching from under a collapsed cinderblock wall that offers some protection from the flames, if not the heat. He looks, intent now, spotting... THE ARM WITH THE ZIGZAG SCARIFICATION sticking out of the rubble, murky through the flames, growing clearer as camera PUSHES, flames licking at it... ALEX tries to move toward the arm. Forced back by too- intense flame as another beam falls, the rubble shifts and... THE ARM WITH THE ZIGZAG SCARIFICATION skeletal now, baked down to bones. A dozen short metal rods on the ground under it. He picks a few up. THE CAPTAIN drawn now to... UNDER THE RUBBLE - WHERE ALEX WAS water dripping off the concrete, collecting in the place where Alex hid. But he's long gone. The Captain drops the rods. Satisfied it's over. CUT TO: EXT. CITY STREET #5 - NIGHT Alex staggers along in bad shape. Up ahead... A GIRL in her twenties exits a building down a flight of stairs, waits at the bottom for her BOYFRIEND, who's locking the door. She sees Alex, gives him an empathetic look. Alex walks slowly closer. ALEX'S INTERNAL POV Lauren appearing to him, playing their game. But the words are wrong, distorted. LAUREN Your witness list is no match for my kung fu. Her Bruce Lee "Oooo" a siren call. RESUME Alex moving slowly forward on the street, drawn toward the girl who watches with horrified fascination. ALEX I'm losing you. ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- 71. ALEX'S INTERNAL POV LAUREN Your zigzag love scar is no match for... Lauren and Alex drawing very close now when... RESUME WAM. A FIST clocks Alex in the face, dropping him hard onto the pavement. GIRL Did you have to do that? BOYFRIEND How about "thank you." GIRL He's bleeding. ALEX I don't bleed. BOYFRIEND And delirious. Better steer clear. ALEX'S POV The Guy wraps his arm protectively around the girl, walks her off. Running into a COP at the next intersection. They POINT at... ALEX takes off, ducking into an alley. Confused. CAMERA CREEPS BACKWARD as he gathers his thoughts. CUT TO: INT. WALSH'S OFFICE - NIGHT RATTLE RATTLE. Alex's shadow visible through the frosted glass, jostling the locked door. ALEX Erin! SMASH. His arm PUNCHES through the glass, turn the knob. Alex enters, arm bleeding badly. He yanks a large piece of glass from his flesh. Painful. Alex registers that the rules have changed. He finds a necktie of Walsh's, uses it to bind the wound, staunch the flow. He scans the room again looking for... Something. But everything seems ok. He passes... The Chess Box, the picture of Lauren and Alex gone. Just a piece of TAPE left, sticking to the top of the open lid. ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- 72. OVER THE CHESS BOARD - ALEX the missing pic lost on him, drawn to the chess board where Walsh collapsed. Something wrong with the game. He finds... THE BLACK KING Off the board. On top of a stack of news clippings lying on the floor. Alex picks it up, LEAVING a RING OF BLOOD under. CAMERA PUSHES on the clipping underneath, the headline "City Leaders Vow Crackdown in Wake of Randall Murder." PUSHING, finding among the City Leaders... ALEX (CONT'D) The King. THE CAPTAIN'S FACE circled in blood. Camera continues to PUSH on the grainy newsprint, through it, until all we see are halftone pixels and the picture loses meaning. EXT. CITY - AIRBORNE - NIGHT The Police Station in sinister CROWVISION as we approach, swoop in and... INT. POLICE STATION - HALLWAY Alex walks the long approach to the Captain's office, past the empty Secretary's desk. KICKING the door open CRASH! into... INT. POLICE STATION - CAPTAIN'S OFFICE The Captain works alone at his desk under a standing lamp. Looks up unconcerned as Alex enters, walks to the desk, and SLAPS down the ring-of-blood clipping. CAPTAIN I hate that picture. ALEX Where are they? CAPTAIN Can I get you something? A glass of water? A transfusion? ALEX Where are they? Last chance. CAPTAIN Or what? You'll bleed all over my carpet? The Captain rises. CAPTAIN (CONT'D) You know crime was actually down until you showed up, or stuck (MORE) ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- 73. CAPTAIN (CONT'D) around, or whatever the hell you're doing here. (then) What are you doing here? ALEX I'm looking for my friends. CAPTAIN See, I heard you were looking for some guy with a scar. How's that going? You find him? Yes? No? Alex tenses as the Captain starts toward him. CAPTAIN (CONT'D) You are like the guest who would not leave, you know that? And judging from your condition, maybe you've overstayed your welcome. That's not a criticism. Just an observation. Alex draws the knife from his clothes. CAPTAIN (CONT'D) I don't think you're going to use it. That's Lauren's knife. Enraged, Alex SWIPES the knife. The Captain grabs his arm right at the blood soaked necktie, squeezes hard. Alex writhes in pain. In each other's faces now. CAPTAIN (CONT'D) You come in here al lfull of righteous indignation, but what have you got to be righteous about? THE KNIFE starting to fall from Alex's hand as the Captain continues to clamp down on his wound. CAPTAIN (CONT'D) How many innocent people did you leave dead back there? ALEX You sent them. I had no choice. CAPTAIN Bullshit. You're a killer, that's all you are. A clown with a bird and a rising death toll. You think the world did you wrong?! You did the world wrong. The Captain snatches the knife, RAMS it into Alex's midriff. ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- 74. CAPTAIN (CONT'D) You and Lauren had a fight. You couldn't let it go. FLASH EXT. OLD GROWTH GROVE - DAY ALEX'S INTERNAL POV Lauren in tears in Alex's car. LAUREN I can't say. ALEX He grabs for her. She pulls violently away. LAUREN Don't touch me! RESUME INT. POLICE STATION - CAPTAIN'S OFFICE - NIGHT WHOOMP. Another stab into Alex. There will be fifty three. CAPTAIN It was one thing her dad rejected you. But when she did you lost it. ALEX You're wrong. CAPTAIN Yeah? I see doubt oozing out your arm. Where do people go when they kill their girlfriends? FLASH ALEX'S INTERNAL POV Alex back at the inferno, cowering from flames. RESUME The Captain full of righteous conviction. CAPTAIN (CONT'D) Screwed up kid stabs her fifty three times. Where would he end up? The Captain bent over Alex, stabbing him. ALEX'S INTERNAL POV (INTERCUT WITH PREVIOUS) FLASHES move us backward along the path we've taken so far, a tour of hell on earth, the blast of infernal winds and the ever-present voice of the Captain, condemning. CAPTAIN'S VOICE Take a look! Strippers writhe at "The Hole." ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- 75. CAPTAIN'S VOICE (CONT'D) That's who you are! The Porsche explodes. CAPTAIN'S VOICE (CONT'D) You sick fuck! Look at it! Alex blasts Dutton. BAM! CAPTAIN'S VOICE (CONT'D) Every loser name anyone ever called you was true! Alex escapes the taser. Mercer drops. CAPTAIN'S VOICE (CONT'D) Are you looking? Answer me! Time SCREECHING to a halt, all the movement converging on a single, quiet image. One we've seen before... Alex in the chair. But his last words are different. ALEX I loved Lauren. I never meant to hurt her. ZAP. Electro-spasm as the switch is thrown. No scar, no meltdown, just violent fibrillations that moderate, finally as we MATCH TO... RESUME - THE CAPTAIN'S OFFICE The Captain shaking Alex, holding something in front of Alex's face. CAPTAIN You see it? Huh? Did you see it? Alex's eye's gone dead, no longer seeing... THE PHOTO - LAUREN AND ALEX IN THE WOODS arms around each other. Familiar, but on second take, it's like the crime scene photos... Lauren's NECK is SLASHED, her body riddled with stab wounds. Alex has a big smile on his face, his arm around her, her head on his shoulder. 100% sociopath. RESUME CAPTAIN (CONT'D) Yeah. I think you fucking saw it. The Captain drops Alex lifeless and bloody to the floor. Only the sound of the Captain panting now, then... The sound of slow clapping. Madden walks into the room from behind perimeter curtains. CLAP CLAP CLAP. ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- 76. MADDEN You were right. Picture's worth a thousand words. Madden kicks Alex lightly, nudging him. No life signes. The Captain rips the picture in two. Tosses it in the trash. CAPTAIN Just don't believe everything you see. MADDEN Doubt is a motherfucker. CAPTAIN Give me a hand with this sack of shit. INT. MYSTERY ROOM - NIGHT NEW ANGLE - THROUGH A WINDOW DARKLY Madden and the Captain grab Alex, one at each end. SECRETARY He's cute. Was cute. REVEAL, this is the Secretary's POV through the window. She's bent over someone's toes, painting them BLUE. WIDE. The Mystery Room revealed. Taxidermy specimens line the wall and the table. Erin stands in PROFILE in the middle of the room, strangely silent, hands tied overhead by a rope that runs to the ceiling. The Secretary brushing polish on Erin's toes. SECRETARY (CONT'D) But the face, well, makeup can work for you or against you. Right? The Secretary applies a last flourish of polish, then stands, kisses Erin gently. SECRETARY (CONT'D) All done. Very nice. (then) You're a good listener. The Secretary moves off REVEALING... ERIN'S FACE MOUTH SEWN shut in a rough zigzag stitch, like the scar. Her eyes dart as... THE DOOR opens. The Captain and Madden carry Alex in. Madden sweeps the TAXIDERMY SPECIMENS back with his hand, clearing a space for Alex on the table. Among them... ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- 77. THE CROW on its Corvus Brachyrhynchos stand takes a small hop backward, this sign of life unnoticed as... RESUME WHUMP. Alex heaved onto the table. MADDEN So was he dead? Or alive? The Secretary puts her ear to Alex's lifeless lips. CAPTAIN I've seen birds stuffed and mounted so lifelike you'd swear you saw them breathing. This reminds him... he looks at the Crow on the stand. Lifeless, stuffed. As it should be. CAPTAIN (CONT'D) Maybe we had a case of that here. (to Secretary) Get me my kit. MADDEN You two are majorly demented. Anyone ever tell you that? The Secretary steps off to grab thekit, leaving Alex's lifeless open eyes pointing toward Erin, reflected in his eyeballs first before... ANGLE - ERIN looking up at her own hands, bound above her as she eases them apart and... The HEART SHAPED LOCKET slips from between her palms and she closes them again in time to catch the chain, the locket swinging. ON THE TABLE X-CLOSE. The locket reflected in Alex's lifeless open eyes a second before... The Secretary returns, blocking the sightline. Lays out the Kit, nasty looking tools left over from the Inquisition. Then unbuttons Alex's tattered shirt, undressing him for the procedure. Stab wounds everywhere. SECRETARY Fifty three? CAPTAIN In all the excitement I kind of lost count. (then) I think I'll mount him with his head up his ass. A large KNIFE, the Lauren murder weapon, angles in at the base of Alex'sneck where the Secretary's head was. ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- 78. THE CROW - OVERCRANKED moves on the table. Takes flight. THE TRIO turn toward the commotion. CAPTAIN (CONT'D) Grab it! THE LOCKET - OVERCRANKED Snatched in midair by the Crow from Erin's praying hands. FLASH! ALEX/CROW'S INTERNAL POV HIGH ANGLE CROWVISION. Dim memories from the woods. Anamorphic and dark. Two figures--Alex and Erin--kneeling. RESUME - THE LOCKET released from the Crow's beak, passing through the TRIO'S HANDS uncaught, bouncing off Alex onto the table, in front of his open eyes. ALEX/CROW'S INTERNAL POV FLASH. AT GROUND LEVEL. Alex fastens the LOCKET around her neck. The distortion lessening, becoming Alex's POV. ALEX ... it connects you to me... FLASH. ERIN No matter what happens... you're innocent... I promise... FLASH. Alex painting her face. RESUME Alex BLINKS. The Captain reacts--oh shit--starts to bring the knife down, a hurried strike at Alex's chest. WAM! Alex grabs the Captain's arm in his hand, stopping the movement on a dime. ALEX All lies. Everything you ever showed me. MADDEN pulls a gun, points it at Erin. ALEX jumps up, flying INTO the gun as it goes off. CRASH! They tumble THROUGH THE WINDOW into the Captain's office while... THE CAPTAIN cuts down the rope holding Erin. She collapses... ON THE TABLE strewn with blades, secreting one between her hands, in the second before... THE CAPTAIN drags Erin off. The Secretary flails at the Crow with a metal ROD, while... IN THE CAPTAIN'S OFFICE Madden has the gun on Alex now. BAM! No effect. BAM! ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- 79. Madden sweating it now, continuing to shoot with no effect as... THE MYSTERY ROOM The Secretary finally connects with the Crow, batting it against the wall, noticing this coincides with... Alex goes flying against the desk, winged himself. Madden c Onfused, not understanding. SECRETARY (O.S.) It's the bird! Kill it! Madden wheels, points the gun through the busted-out picture window into... The SECRETARY dives for cover as bullets explode around her. The Crow dancing, sprayed with debris. CUT TO: INT. POLICE STATION - ELEVATOR - NIGHT CLOSE. Floor lights sequence above the door, heading for underground parking. "5 - 4 - 3..." The Captain watches the lights. Erin is slumped face first against the side of the elevator opposite him. CAPTAIN You brought him back. Good. He owes you. We'll stick together, you and I. ON ERIN face pressed against the elevator wall, intent. CAPTAIN (CONT'D) Seen but not heard. They ought to make it a law. Erin winces, looks down... THE BLADE emerging from her sleeve as she tries to hold it with her two bound hands. DING. The elevator jerks to a stop. THE CAPTAIN grabs her off the floor and she RAMS the blade into his abdomen with the force of the entire body. Twists it. The elevator doors open. ERIN pulls out the blade, claws her way out the door, the Captain hanging on to her, finally getting free as she swipes at him again, drawing fresh blood. Running now, into... INT. POLICE STATION - PARKING GARAGE - NIGHT Erin stumbles between cars in the dark underground garage, cutting the cord off her hands, leaving it behind as... ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- 80. Behind her, the Captain unsteady on his feet, a wounded animal. He pulls out a GLOCK 9MM and KA-CHUNK. Cycles it. Erin dives between cars, scrambling on hands and knees. Looks around. HER POV - SCANNING a small garage with a few police cruisers by a SERVICE AREA and no people. A barred GATE over the exit. No way out. ERIN winces. Then stifles a cry as she cuts the stitches off her mouth with the knife. Drops the threads on the floor and moves off... CUT TO: INT. POLICE STATION - CAPTAIN'S OFFICE - NIGHT Alex runs past the glass AWARDS CASE, takes a flying leap behind the desk, seeking cover as Madden empties a clip at him. The slide ratchets back. Madden SLAMS another clip in, advances on Alex, hidden behind the shredded desk as... THE SECRETARY clears stuffed birds off the table trying to expose the wounded crow cowering back against the wall. SECRETARY Here pretty bird. Here birdy. WHOP! She grabs it, the Crow flapping desperately as... IN THE CAPTAIN'S OFFICE Madden creeps up on the desk, peers over it. Nothing. Out of nowhere... WAM! Alex rushes Madden, bulldozing him across the room with a pained cry of brute force toward... THE AWARDS CASE CRASH! Glass shatters as Alex hurls Madden, who swivels around in time to get off a last shot BAM! That collapses Alex to the floor. IN THE MYSTERY ROOM The Crow squeezes out of the Secretary's grasp, leaving her holding a couple feathers. AT THE AWARD'S CASE Alex hauls himself off the floor as the Crow joins him. Seeing... MADDEN'S HEAD has taken its place among glass bowls and trophies, half decapitated by the glass shelf it now rests on. Down the shelf from the stuffed bird. ALEX rushes through the blown out window into... Seeing for the first time that Erin is gone, the rope hanging from the ceiling, finding... THE SECRETARY ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- 81. SECRETARY (CONT'D) sitting on the floor, painting her own toenails BLUE, leaning up against the wall. ALEX Where'd they go? Alex eases the Secretary to her feet with a hand around her neck, her back to the wall. She looks UP, smiling at... WALSH - RIGHT ARM MISSING hangs high overhead from some kind of hook. His arm has been crudely removed. Underneath him, on the table, a BOX of 2" surgical stainless steel rods sits by a pool of blood. ALEX yells, reeling, as... The door flies open. A half dozen cops in, all targeting Alex as... THE SECRETARY plunges the Lauren KNIFE in Alex's back. He spins violently THROWING her HARD against the wall. WAM! Surprise!-she sticks. REVEAL, she's impaled on ANTELOPE ANTLERS, hanging off the wall. Her head drops, looking down as a stream of blood flows down her legs, drips off her toes... SECRETARY (dying words) My nails. BAM BAM BAM. The new arrivals open fire. Alex reaches over his shoulder, yanks out the knife with an odd slurping sound as... CUT TO: INT. POLICE STATION - PARKING GARAGE The sound of GUNFIRE filters down from above as the Captain hunts his hidden prey. He stops, studies... ERIN'S POV - LOW ANGLE LOOKING UNDER A CAR The Captain's feet, joined by his hand as he picks up the thread she left on the ground. INCLUDE ERIN SECRETARY reproving herself as she turns toward camera. She looks back under the car, but... The Captain's feet have moved off. Where? She listens, hears nothing. Slips off... NEW ANGLE - ERIN takes refuge in the service area, crouching behind stacks of TIRES. Knife at the ready. ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- 82. The Captain's FOOTSTEPS audible. HER OBSTRUCTED POV between stacks of tires, the Captain, Glock at ready, PASSES BY, moving out of sight. Footsteps RECEDING. Then silent. ERIN Listening, neurons firing. Cranes her neck to see. Nothing. WIDER the Captain appears BEHIND ERIN, over the stacks of tires. She's oblivious, then... Erin wheels, slashes across his wrist. The Glock falls, Erin grabs it, levels it at the Captain. Her finger tense on the trigger. CAPTAIN (re: gun) I know you too well. You won't do it. ERIN You don't know me at all. BAM! She pulls the trigger, simultaneously wrenching the gun, aiming just enough off that... THE CAPTAIN yells in pain, rushes his hand to his ear, a bloody mess. He starts advancing again toward her and Erin pulls... THE TRIGGER again, again, again.

bulbs

How many times the word 'bulbs' appears in the text?

Alex starts off... BAM! He's blown back by a shot half lost in the noisy club. No panic yet. ONSTAGE the strippers break character, looking. The audience turns as... ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- 63. NEAR THE ENTRANCE The First Bouncer goes flying above the heads of the crowd, getting off a dramatic SHOT while airborne, inducing... PANDEMONIUM Patrons stampeding as BAM BAM! Alex taking bullets, the miracle lost in the chaotic exit. The Bouncers out of sight underfoot. ON ALEX visible again, back on his feet. Buffeted, stationary as everyone flees. With the exodus still at flood stage... CUT TO: INT. WALSH'S OFFICE - NIGHT ON WALSH, in motion as he puts on a jacket, throws some papers into a briefcase. He's nervous, ill-suited for this cloak and dagger stuff, chattering... WALSH We'll be safe in my car. Nobody will recognize it. Let's move yours in back, no, down the block. Hope it's nothing fancy. There's a chop shop around the corner. She's looking elsewhere, at the door that has quietly opened. The Captain stands there. Somber reptile. Holding a sheaf of papers in one hand. ERIN You followed me here. CAPTAIN No... Erin, I put out a bulletin on your car because... there's bad news. And I thought you should hear it from me. She stares at him expressionless. CAPTAIN (CONT'D) Your father got involved with some bad cops. On my force, so I take responsibility. (beat, then) He killed himself. She talks with great difficulty. ERIN How? CAPTAIN How did he kill himself? She nods. ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- 64. CAPTAIN (CONT'D) With a gun. Is that what you mean? ERIN No. I mean... how did he kill himself How do you figure he killed himself--with a gun, right--when it wasn't anywhere near where you found him? He takes a step toward her. She pulls out the Blood Pistol. Seems crazy enough to use it. ERIN (CONT'D) You killed him. WALSH Erin. Don't. ERIN Back the fuck off! Now! The Captain stops, gently tosses the sheaf of papers toward her, onto Walsh's desk. The papers Nathan was preparing. Walsh looks at them while... CAPTAIN He left this. Names, addresses, a note to you. These people he was involved with killed Lauren. He couldn't bear it anymore. WALSH My God. He's right, it's all here. ERIN The note. Show it to me. Erin has one eye on the papers now, recognizes her dad's hand. The Captain inches forward. ERIN (CONT'D) (to Captain) Not you! (to Walsh) Show it to me. The Captain steps forward, right to the desk. Erin backed into a corner now. CAPTAIN It's right there, under that paper. (grabs a note) Here. Look. She holds a hand out for the note, taking her eye off the situation for one second as she reads... ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- 65. THE NOTE A bunch of numbers added together in her father's hand. Not a suicide note. THE CAPTAIN grabs Erin's wrist and BAM! A chunk of the ceiling falls as the weapon discharges. The Captain throws her in a chokehold, her finger still on the trigger. CAPTAIN (CONT'D) You were always the stupid one. She fights as the Captain wraps his own hand over hers, wrestles her arm toward Walsh, in the sights now. BAM! WALSH blown backward, collapsing by the Chess Board. Trying to pull himself up. Erin struggling. As... MADDEN enters from the hall, in a hurry, gun drawn. MADDEN You need help? He nods toward Walsh, who is moving, barely. CAPTAIN Hurry. We don't have much time. BAM. A shot from Madden drops Walsh for god. As Madden drags Walsh toward the door, the Captain grabs... THE PICTURE OF ALEX AND LAUREN pulled off the lid of the Chess box, one of the pieces of tape left behind. The Captain exits. CUT TO: INT. "THE HOLE" - NIGHT MUSIC STILL POUNDS, lights swirl. But the club has cleared out, leaving human detritus, a handful of casualties from the stampede. WITH ALEX as he steps over the Two Bouncers, expired on the floor. A soft WHIMPERING marks the silence. The girl cuffed onstage. Alex goes up to the terrified girl. Close up, she looks way underage. He gathers her clothes, spots a key on the floor. ALEX How old are you? She listens as he unlocks the cuffs. ALEX (CONT'D) You have one chance to value your life. Take it. ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- 66. He watches as she hightails it out the front door, still half naked. As she leaves... THE CROW appears in the doorway near the broken bodies. Alex takes a deep breath, as if it hurts. The casualties. CAW. The Crow flies on, disappearing into the back rooms. Alex turns, follows... INT. "THE HOLE" - BACKSTAGE - NIGHT Alex moves past the empty makeup table. A lipstick cigarette smolders in an ashtray. People left in a hurry. MUSIC LOUD, as if inside our heads now. Alex continues... INT. "THE HOLE" - INTERNET PORN FACILITY Nobody home. Empty images refreshed every six seconds. Number of hits static now. Alex drawn now by the "No Admittance" Curtain which he approaches slowly, touching it and FLASH! ALEX'S INTERNAL POV - LAUREN looking over her shoulder, pulling back the "No Admittance" Curtain, going where she shouldn't go. ALEX Lauren? You were here? Lauren makes her stealthy way into.... INT. "THE HOLE" - BACK HALL - NIGHT revealed as Alex slips past the Curtain, retracing Lauren's footsteps. CAMERA FOLLOWS Alex CREEPING down the hall to... ALEX'S INTERNAL POV - LAUREN down the hall, peering inside the partially open Back Room door, then turning back startled TOWARD CAMERA as if suddenly overtaken. AT THE DOOR Alex turns back, like Lauren, looks behind him. The hallway is empty. He enters... INT. "THE HOLE" - BACK ROOM - NIGHT Darkness. As Alex gropes for a lightswitch, a LIGHTER FLARES. Toomey and Larkin lean in, light up in synch. Alex takes in the dark fringes, dim reflections off lots of eyes. Not taxidermy specimens. BAM BAM BAM BAM. A dozen police officers lining the walls empty cartridges into Alex in an angry, STROBING fusillade. In the silence that follows... LARKIN (after the fact) Don't move. ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- 67. The gang LAUGHS. Larkin makes his way to a light switch by the door. LARKIN (CONT'D) Drinks are on me. Larkin flips on the low-watt BARE BULBS hanging down past industrial pipes and conduit, casting a dim light on the cinderblock space. NO ALEX. ALEX Cheers. They look up and... BAM! Alex DROPS LARKIN with a shot to the forehead. BAM! He MISSES TOOMEY as bullets from below EXPLODE all around him. Alex scampers across framing as... The BARE BULBS burst, all but one, plunging us back in to near darkness as Alex drops to the ground near Larkin's fallen body. Jacks up the sleeve. No scar. Alex spots Toomey, rolls out as... THREE COPS pump rounds into Alex. BAM! Alex takes the middle Cop out, a TOONEY-LIKE GUY who falls onto Toomey, behind him. ALEX turns, forced to defend himself as FULL AUTO FIRE breaks open, the other flank, more advancing cops. While... TOOMEY crawls out from under the fallen copy, then backs out the door on hands and knees while... A FINAL EXPLOSIVE FUSILLADE leaves only Alex standing. As the echoes dissolve... Alex Alex moves to where Toomey was, bends down to check the body... THE NAMEPLATE - "TOOMEY" But the pin isn't fastened properly. The badge askew. RESUME - ALEX rolls the body over, finds another nameplate underneath. "Hauser." Heads off in search of... ALEX (CONT'D) Toomey! INT - "THE HOLE" - INTERNET PORN FACILITY - NIGHT Toomey is clearing the "No Admittance" curtain when... ALEX You dripped something! Toomey panics as he approaches... ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- 68. INTERNET FANTASY SETS Monitors still updating every six seconds. Toomey hears Alex coming, slips through the "Dungeon." BEHIND THE SHOWER FANTASY SET Toomey takes refuge out of sight, next to a GAS HOT WATER HEATER, quiet as a mouse. ALEX tears the "No Admittance" curtain completely off its rod, arriving at the fantasy sets just in time to see... THE DUNGEON MONITOR Toomey (frozen) scurrying through. Gone now as the monitor updates. Then Alex appears, following him through the set... WITH ALEX moving to the rear of the "dungeon," on Toomey's heels. WAM. Toomey hits him full force with A PIPE, sending Alex sprawling backward, COLLAPSING the flimsy Shower set. WAM. Toomey swings again, misses Alex, but connects with... THE GAS LINE to the water heater ripped out by the blow. HISS. The sound of gas, loud, as the line breaks. RESUME Alex straddles Toomey, just as Toomey manages to get his gun pointed in Alex's face. Hissing gas nearby. CLICK. Toomey cocks the gun. ALEX (CONT'D) Spark, gas... bad combination. And it's not this leak here, that's the least of your worries. WAM! Alex swings Toomey's pipe HARD at a much bigger GAS LINE right behind the gas heater, leaving it badly cracked. The hiss magnified 100% nos. ALEX (CONT'D) We're going to play a little game called "Who's got the Scar." TOOMEY What Scar? What fucking scar? ALEX (buzzer sound) AAAANK. That's not how we play the game. Alex jacks Toomey's sleeve down. No Scar. Alex pissed as Toomey locks eyes with him. Really seeing him now. TOOMEY You're him! You're Corvis! We fried your ass. You're dead, man! ALEX Good thing in a situation like this. We pick up... ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- 69. INT. "THE HOLE" - BACK ROOM - NIGHT Some light filters in as a door opens to the outside. A FIGURE enters, squats among the bodies. He leans in, closes larkin's eyes, and we see... It's Madden. Blood on his hands. He hears Alex's VOICE faintly, then Toomey cries out in pain. Madden moves toward... INT. "THE HOLE" - INTERNET PORN FACILITY - NIGHT Madden creeps down the hallway to the back room. VOICES growing louder. TOOMEY Fucking Zombie. ALEX The scar. TOOMEY There is no scar. I'm telling you. As Madden moves toward the conversation, his face registers the slightest of smiles. MADDEN'S CREEPING POV MONITORS obliquely visible as he reaches the end of the hall by the Fantasy sets. The "Shower" monitor shows Alex and Toomey, visible through the trashed set, updated every six seconds. MADDEN SNIFFS gas. The HISS now audible along with Alex's voice. Madden smiles. Pulls out his 9mm. And BACKS UP, away from the Fantasy Sets toward the back room. Madden takes aim at... THE FIRST MONITOR The images is Alex threatening Toomey. Updating now--LOSING ALEX on the Monitor as he steps into frame in person, looks up and BAM! CROWVISION a speeding bullet passes narrowly by and... ANGLE - GROUND ZERO as the bullet hits the monitor in a shower of sparks, followed by... BOOM! A ROILING FIREBALL Seems to vaporize Alex before flying down the hallway right at CAMERA. Madden manages a couple steps in retreat before it blows him into the back room with a deafening roar. EXT. "THE HOLE" - INFERNO - NIGHT BOOM! Windows blow out in a gas fired inferno. A body flung out the rear door. BOOM! ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- 70. EXT. "THE HOLE" - NIGHT Interior/exterior being less meaningful than seconds ago. Walls crumbled, roof blown off. BRIGHT FIRE consumes the frame, consumes the bodies of downed cops, consumes every last bit of oxygen and life. Distant SIRENS draw closer. A SLOW SCAN, someone's OBSTRUCTED POV of Hell. INCLUDE ALEX watching from under a collapsed cinderblock wall that offers some protection from the flames, if not the heat. He looks, intent now, spotting... THE ARM WITH THE ZIGZAG SCARIFICATION sticking out of the rubble, murky through the flames, growing clearer as camera PUSHES, flames licking at it... ALEX tries to move toward the arm. Forced back by too- intense flame as another beam falls, the rubble shifts and... THE ARM WITH THE ZIGZAG SCARIFICATION skeletal now, baked down to bones. A dozen short metal rods on the ground under it. He picks a few up. THE CAPTAIN drawn now to... UNDER THE RUBBLE - WHERE ALEX WAS water dripping off the concrete, collecting in the place where Alex hid. But he's long gone. The Captain drops the rods. Satisfied it's over. CUT TO: EXT. CITY STREET #5 - NIGHT Alex staggers along in bad shape. Up ahead... A GIRL in her twenties exits a building down a flight of stairs, waits at the bottom for her BOYFRIEND, who's locking the door. She sees Alex, gives him an empathetic look. Alex walks slowly closer. ALEX'S INTERNAL POV Lauren appearing to him, playing their game. But the words are wrong, distorted. LAUREN Your witness list is no match for my kung fu. Her Bruce Lee "Oooo" a siren call. RESUME Alex moving slowly forward on the street, drawn toward the girl who watches with horrified fascination. ALEX I'm losing you. ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- 71. ALEX'S INTERNAL POV LAUREN Your zigzag love scar is no match for... Lauren and Alex drawing very close now when... RESUME WAM. A FIST clocks Alex in the face, dropping him hard onto the pavement. GIRL Did you have to do that? BOYFRIEND How about "thank you." GIRL He's bleeding. ALEX I don't bleed. BOYFRIEND And delirious. Better steer clear. ALEX'S POV The Guy wraps his arm protectively around the girl, walks her off. Running into a COP at the next intersection. They POINT at... ALEX takes off, ducking into an alley. Confused. CAMERA CREEPS BACKWARD as he gathers his thoughts. CUT TO: INT. WALSH'S OFFICE - NIGHT RATTLE RATTLE. Alex's shadow visible through the frosted glass, jostling the locked door. ALEX Erin! SMASH. His arm PUNCHES through the glass, turn the knob. Alex enters, arm bleeding badly. He yanks a large piece of glass from his flesh. Painful. Alex registers that the rules have changed. He finds a necktie of Walsh's, uses it to bind the wound, staunch the flow. He scans the room again looking for... Something. But everything seems ok. He passes... The Chess Box, the picture of Lauren and Alex gone. Just a piece of TAPE left, sticking to the top of the open lid. ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- 72. OVER THE CHESS BOARD - ALEX the missing pic lost on him, drawn to the chess board where Walsh collapsed. Something wrong with the game. He finds... THE BLACK KING Off the board. On top of a stack of news clippings lying on the floor. Alex picks it up, LEAVING a RING OF BLOOD under. CAMERA PUSHES on the clipping underneath, the headline "City Leaders Vow Crackdown in Wake of Randall Murder." PUSHING, finding among the City Leaders... ALEX (CONT'D) The King. THE CAPTAIN'S FACE circled in blood. Camera continues to PUSH on the grainy newsprint, through it, until all we see are halftone pixels and the picture loses meaning. EXT. CITY - AIRBORNE - NIGHT The Police Station in sinister CROWVISION as we approach, swoop in and... INT. POLICE STATION - HALLWAY Alex walks the long approach to the Captain's office, past the empty Secretary's desk. KICKING the door open CRASH! into... INT. POLICE STATION - CAPTAIN'S OFFICE The Captain works alone at his desk under a standing lamp. Looks up unconcerned as Alex enters, walks to the desk, and SLAPS down the ring-of-blood clipping. CAPTAIN I hate that picture. ALEX Where are they? CAPTAIN Can I get you something? A glass of water? A transfusion? ALEX Where are they? Last chance. CAPTAIN Or what? You'll bleed all over my carpet? The Captain rises. CAPTAIN (CONT'D) You know crime was actually down until you showed up, or stuck (MORE) ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- 73. CAPTAIN (CONT'D) around, or whatever the hell you're doing here. (then) What are you doing here? ALEX I'm looking for my friends. CAPTAIN See, I heard you were looking for some guy with a scar. How's that going? You find him? Yes? No? Alex tenses as the Captain starts toward him. CAPTAIN (CONT'D) You are like the guest who would not leave, you know that? And judging from your condition, maybe you've overstayed your welcome. That's not a criticism. Just an observation. Alex draws the knife from his clothes. CAPTAIN (CONT'D) I don't think you're going to use it. That's Lauren's knife. Enraged, Alex SWIPES the knife. The Captain grabs his arm right at the blood soaked necktie, squeezes hard. Alex writhes in pain. In each other's faces now. CAPTAIN (CONT'D) You come in here al lfull of righteous indignation, but what have you got to be righteous about? THE KNIFE starting to fall from Alex's hand as the Captain continues to clamp down on his wound. CAPTAIN (CONT'D) How many innocent people did you leave dead back there? ALEX You sent them. I had no choice. CAPTAIN Bullshit. You're a killer, that's all you are. A clown with a bird and a rising death toll. You think the world did you wrong?! You did the world wrong. The Captain snatches the knife, RAMS it into Alex's midriff. ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- 74. CAPTAIN (CONT'D) You and Lauren had a fight. You couldn't let it go. FLASH EXT. OLD GROWTH GROVE - DAY ALEX'S INTERNAL POV Lauren in tears in Alex's car. LAUREN I can't say. ALEX He grabs for her. She pulls violently away. LAUREN Don't touch me! RESUME INT. POLICE STATION - CAPTAIN'S OFFICE - NIGHT WHOOMP. Another stab into Alex. There will be fifty three. CAPTAIN It was one thing her dad rejected you. But when she did you lost it. ALEX You're wrong. CAPTAIN Yeah? I see doubt oozing out your arm. Where do people go when they kill their girlfriends? FLASH ALEX'S INTERNAL POV Alex back at the inferno, cowering from flames. RESUME The Captain full of righteous conviction. CAPTAIN (CONT'D) Screwed up kid stabs her fifty three times. Where would he end up? The Captain bent over Alex, stabbing him. ALEX'S INTERNAL POV (INTERCUT WITH PREVIOUS) FLASHES move us backward along the path we've taken so far, a tour of hell on earth, the blast of infernal winds and the ever-present voice of the Captain, condemning. CAPTAIN'S VOICE Take a look! Strippers writhe at "The Hole." ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- 75. CAPTAIN'S VOICE (CONT'D) That's who you are! The Porsche explodes. CAPTAIN'S VOICE (CONT'D) You sick fuck! Look at it! Alex blasts Dutton. BAM! CAPTAIN'S VOICE (CONT'D) Every loser name anyone ever called you was true! Alex escapes the taser. Mercer drops. CAPTAIN'S VOICE (CONT'D) Are you looking? Answer me! Time SCREECHING to a halt, all the movement converging on a single, quiet image. One we've seen before... Alex in the chair. But his last words are different. ALEX I loved Lauren. I never meant to hurt her. ZAP. Electro-spasm as the switch is thrown. No scar, no meltdown, just violent fibrillations that moderate, finally as we MATCH TO... RESUME - THE CAPTAIN'S OFFICE The Captain shaking Alex, holding something in front of Alex's face. CAPTAIN You see it? Huh? Did you see it? Alex's eye's gone dead, no longer seeing... THE PHOTO - LAUREN AND ALEX IN THE WOODS arms around each other. Familiar, but on second take, it's like the crime scene photos... Lauren's NECK is SLASHED, her body riddled with stab wounds. Alex has a big smile on his face, his arm around her, her head on his shoulder. 100% sociopath. RESUME CAPTAIN (CONT'D) Yeah. I think you fucking saw it. The Captain drops Alex lifeless and bloody to the floor. Only the sound of the Captain panting now, then... The sound of slow clapping. Madden walks into the room from behind perimeter curtains. CLAP CLAP CLAP. ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- 76. MADDEN You were right. Picture's worth a thousand words. Madden kicks Alex lightly, nudging him. No life signes. The Captain rips the picture in two. Tosses it in the trash. CAPTAIN Just don't believe everything you see. MADDEN Doubt is a motherfucker. CAPTAIN Give me a hand with this sack of shit. INT. MYSTERY ROOM - NIGHT NEW ANGLE - THROUGH A WINDOW DARKLY Madden and the Captain grab Alex, one at each end. SECRETARY He's cute. Was cute. REVEAL, this is the Secretary's POV through the window. She's bent over someone's toes, painting them BLUE. WIDE. The Mystery Room revealed. Taxidermy specimens line the wall and the table. Erin stands in PROFILE in the middle of the room, strangely silent, hands tied overhead by a rope that runs to the ceiling. The Secretary brushing polish on Erin's toes. SECRETARY (CONT'D) But the face, well, makeup can work for you or against you. Right? The Secretary applies a last flourish of polish, then stands, kisses Erin gently. SECRETARY (CONT'D) All done. Very nice. (then) You're a good listener. The Secretary moves off REVEALING... ERIN'S FACE MOUTH SEWN shut in a rough zigzag stitch, like the scar. Her eyes dart as... THE DOOR opens. The Captain and Madden carry Alex in. Madden sweeps the TAXIDERMY SPECIMENS back with his hand, clearing a space for Alex on the table. Among them... ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- 77. THE CROW on its Corvus Brachyrhynchos stand takes a small hop backward, this sign of life unnoticed as... RESUME WHUMP. Alex heaved onto the table. MADDEN So was he dead? Or alive? The Secretary puts her ear to Alex's lifeless lips. CAPTAIN I've seen birds stuffed and mounted so lifelike you'd swear you saw them breathing. This reminds him... he looks at the Crow on the stand. Lifeless, stuffed. As it should be. CAPTAIN (CONT'D) Maybe we had a case of that here. (to Secretary) Get me my kit. MADDEN You two are majorly demented. Anyone ever tell you that? The Secretary steps off to grab thekit, leaving Alex's lifeless open eyes pointing toward Erin, reflected in his eyeballs first before... ANGLE - ERIN looking up at her own hands, bound above her as she eases them apart and... The HEART SHAPED LOCKET slips from between her palms and she closes them again in time to catch the chain, the locket swinging. ON THE TABLE X-CLOSE. The locket reflected in Alex's lifeless open eyes a second before... The Secretary returns, blocking the sightline. Lays out the Kit, nasty looking tools left over from the Inquisition. Then unbuttons Alex's tattered shirt, undressing him for the procedure. Stab wounds everywhere. SECRETARY Fifty three? CAPTAIN In all the excitement I kind of lost count. (then) I think I'll mount him with his head up his ass. A large KNIFE, the Lauren murder weapon, angles in at the base of Alex'sneck where the Secretary's head was. ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- 78. THE CROW - OVERCRANKED moves on the table. Takes flight. THE TRIO turn toward the commotion. CAPTAIN (CONT'D) Grab it! THE LOCKET - OVERCRANKED Snatched in midair by the Crow from Erin's praying hands. FLASH! ALEX/CROW'S INTERNAL POV HIGH ANGLE CROWVISION. Dim memories from the woods. Anamorphic and dark. Two figures--Alex and Erin--kneeling. RESUME - THE LOCKET released from the Crow's beak, passing through the TRIO'S HANDS uncaught, bouncing off Alex onto the table, in front of his open eyes. ALEX/CROW'S INTERNAL POV FLASH. AT GROUND LEVEL. Alex fastens the LOCKET around her neck. The distortion lessening, becoming Alex's POV. ALEX ... it connects you to me... FLASH. ERIN No matter what happens... you're innocent... I promise... FLASH. Alex painting her face. RESUME Alex BLINKS. The Captain reacts--oh shit--starts to bring the knife down, a hurried strike at Alex's chest. WAM! Alex grabs the Captain's arm in his hand, stopping the movement on a dime. ALEX All lies. Everything you ever showed me. MADDEN pulls a gun, points it at Erin. ALEX jumps up, flying INTO the gun as it goes off. CRASH! They tumble THROUGH THE WINDOW into the Captain's office while... THE CAPTAIN cuts down the rope holding Erin. She collapses... ON THE TABLE strewn with blades, secreting one between her hands, in the second before... THE CAPTAIN drags Erin off. The Secretary flails at the Crow with a metal ROD, while... IN THE CAPTAIN'S OFFICE Madden has the gun on Alex now. BAM! No effect. BAM! ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- 79. Madden sweating it now, continuing to shoot with no effect as... THE MYSTERY ROOM The Secretary finally connects with the Crow, batting it against the wall, noticing this coincides with... Alex goes flying against the desk, winged himself. Madden c Onfused, not understanding. SECRETARY (O.S.) It's the bird! Kill it! Madden wheels, points the gun through the busted-out picture window into... The SECRETARY dives for cover as bullets explode around her. The Crow dancing, sprayed with debris. CUT TO: INT. POLICE STATION - ELEVATOR - NIGHT CLOSE. Floor lights sequence above the door, heading for underground parking. "5 - 4 - 3..." The Captain watches the lights. Erin is slumped face first against the side of the elevator opposite him. CAPTAIN You brought him back. Good. He owes you. We'll stick together, you and I. ON ERIN face pressed against the elevator wall, intent. CAPTAIN (CONT'D) Seen but not heard. They ought to make it a law. Erin winces, looks down... THE BLADE emerging from her sleeve as she tries to hold it with her two bound hands. DING. The elevator jerks to a stop. THE CAPTAIN grabs her off the floor and she RAMS the blade into his abdomen with the force of the entire body. Twists it. The elevator doors open. ERIN pulls out the blade, claws her way out the door, the Captain hanging on to her, finally getting free as she swipes at him again, drawing fresh blood. Running now, into... INT. POLICE STATION - PARKING GARAGE - NIGHT Erin stumbles between cars in the dark underground garage, cutting the cord off her hands, leaving it behind as... ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- 80. Behind her, the Captain unsteady on his feet, a wounded animal. He pulls out a GLOCK 9MM and KA-CHUNK. Cycles it. Erin dives between cars, scrambling on hands and knees. Looks around. HER POV - SCANNING a small garage with a few police cruisers by a SERVICE AREA and no people. A barred GATE over the exit. No way out. ERIN winces. Then stifles a cry as she cuts the stitches off her mouth with the knife. Drops the threads on the floor and moves off... CUT TO: INT. POLICE STATION - CAPTAIN'S OFFICE - NIGHT Alex runs past the glass AWARDS CASE, takes a flying leap behind the desk, seeking cover as Madden empties a clip at him. The slide ratchets back. Madden SLAMS another clip in, advances on Alex, hidden behind the shredded desk as... THE SECRETARY clears stuffed birds off the table trying to expose the wounded crow cowering back against the wall. SECRETARY Here pretty bird. Here birdy. WHOP! She grabs it, the Crow flapping desperately as... IN THE CAPTAIN'S OFFICE Madden creeps up on the desk, peers over it. Nothing. Out of nowhere... WAM! Alex rushes Madden, bulldozing him across the room with a pained cry of brute force toward... THE AWARDS CASE CRASH! Glass shatters as Alex hurls Madden, who swivels around in time to get off a last shot BAM! That collapses Alex to the floor. IN THE MYSTERY ROOM The Crow squeezes out of the Secretary's grasp, leaving her holding a couple feathers. AT THE AWARD'S CASE Alex hauls himself off the floor as the Crow joins him. Seeing... MADDEN'S HEAD has taken its place among glass bowls and trophies, half decapitated by the glass shelf it now rests on. Down the shelf from the stuffed bird. ALEX rushes through the blown out window into... Seeing for the first time that Erin is gone, the rope hanging from the ceiling, finding... THE SECRETARY ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- 81. SECRETARY (CONT'D) sitting on the floor, painting her own toenails BLUE, leaning up against the wall. ALEX Where'd they go? Alex eases the Secretary to her feet with a hand around her neck, her back to the wall. She looks UP, smiling at... WALSH - RIGHT ARM MISSING hangs high overhead from some kind of hook. His arm has been crudely removed. Underneath him, on the table, a BOX of 2" surgical stainless steel rods sits by a pool of blood. ALEX yells, reeling, as... The door flies open. A half dozen cops in, all targeting Alex as... THE SECRETARY plunges the Lauren KNIFE in Alex's back. He spins violently THROWING her HARD against the wall. WAM! Surprise!-she sticks. REVEAL, she's impaled on ANTELOPE ANTLERS, hanging off the wall. Her head drops, looking down as a stream of blood flows down her legs, drips off her toes... SECRETARY (dying words) My nails. BAM BAM BAM. The new arrivals open fire. Alex reaches over his shoulder, yanks out the knife with an odd slurping sound as... CUT TO: INT. POLICE STATION - PARKING GARAGE The sound of GUNFIRE filters down from above as the Captain hunts his hidden prey. He stops, studies... ERIN'S POV - LOW ANGLE LOOKING UNDER A CAR The Captain's feet, joined by his hand as he picks up the thread she left on the ground. INCLUDE ERIN SECRETARY reproving herself as she turns toward camera. She looks back under the car, but... The Captain's feet have moved off. Where? She listens, hears nothing. Slips off... NEW ANGLE - ERIN takes refuge in the service area, crouching behind stacks of TIRES. Knife at the ready. ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- 82. The Captain's FOOTSTEPS audible. HER OBSTRUCTED POV between stacks of tires, the Captain, Glock at ready, PASSES BY, moving out of sight. Footsteps RECEDING. Then silent. ERIN Listening, neurons firing. Cranes her neck to see. Nothing. WIDER the Captain appears BEHIND ERIN, over the stacks of tires. She's oblivious, then... Erin wheels, slashes across his wrist. The Glock falls, Erin grabs it, levels it at the Captain. Her finger tense on the trigger. CAPTAIN (re: gun) I know you too well. You won't do it. ERIN You don't know me at all. BAM! She pulls the trigger, simultaneously wrenching the gun, aiming just enough off that... THE CAPTAIN yells in pain, rushes his hand to his ear, a bloody mess. He starts advancing again toward her and Erin pulls... THE TRIGGER again, again, again.

triumph

How many times the word 'triumph' appears in the text?

Alex starts off... BAM! He's blown back by a shot half lost in the noisy club. No panic yet. ONSTAGE the strippers break character, looking. The audience turns as... ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- 63. NEAR THE ENTRANCE The First Bouncer goes flying above the heads of the crowd, getting off a dramatic SHOT while airborne, inducing... PANDEMONIUM Patrons stampeding as BAM BAM! Alex taking bullets, the miracle lost in the chaotic exit. The Bouncers out of sight underfoot. ON ALEX visible again, back on his feet. Buffeted, stationary as everyone flees. With the exodus still at flood stage... CUT TO: INT. WALSH'S OFFICE - NIGHT ON WALSH, in motion as he puts on a jacket, throws some papers into a briefcase. He's nervous, ill-suited for this cloak and dagger stuff, chattering... WALSH We'll be safe in my car. Nobody will recognize it. Let's move yours in back, no, down the block. Hope it's nothing fancy. There's a chop shop around the corner. She's looking elsewhere, at the door that has quietly opened. The Captain stands there. Somber reptile. Holding a sheaf of papers in one hand. ERIN You followed me here. CAPTAIN No... Erin, I put out a bulletin on your car because... there's bad news. And I thought you should hear it from me. She stares at him expressionless. CAPTAIN (CONT'D) Your father got involved with some bad cops. On my force, so I take responsibility. (beat, then) He killed himself. She talks with great difficulty. ERIN How? CAPTAIN How did he kill himself? She nods. ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- 64. CAPTAIN (CONT'D) With a gun. Is that what you mean? ERIN No. I mean... how did he kill himself How do you figure he killed himself--with a gun, right--when it wasn't anywhere near where you found him? He takes a step toward her. She pulls out the Blood Pistol. Seems crazy enough to use it. ERIN (CONT'D) You killed him. WALSH Erin. Don't. ERIN Back the fuck off! Now! The Captain stops, gently tosses the sheaf of papers toward her, onto Walsh's desk. The papers Nathan was preparing. Walsh looks at them while... CAPTAIN He left this. Names, addresses, a note to you. These people he was involved with killed Lauren. He couldn't bear it anymore. WALSH My God. He's right, it's all here. ERIN The note. Show it to me. Erin has one eye on the papers now, recognizes her dad's hand. The Captain inches forward. ERIN (CONT'D) (to Captain) Not you! (to Walsh) Show it to me. The Captain steps forward, right to the desk. Erin backed into a corner now. CAPTAIN It's right there, under that paper. (grabs a note) Here. Look. She holds a hand out for the note, taking her eye off the situation for one second as she reads... ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- 65. THE NOTE A bunch of numbers added together in her father's hand. Not a suicide note. THE CAPTAIN grabs Erin's wrist and BAM! A chunk of the ceiling falls as the weapon discharges. The Captain throws her in a chokehold, her finger still on the trigger. CAPTAIN (CONT'D) You were always the stupid one. She fights as the Captain wraps his own hand over hers, wrestles her arm toward Walsh, in the sights now. BAM! WALSH blown backward, collapsing by the Chess Board. Trying to pull himself up. Erin struggling. As... MADDEN enters from the hall, in a hurry, gun drawn. MADDEN You need help? He nods toward Walsh, who is moving, barely. CAPTAIN Hurry. We don't have much time. BAM. A shot from Madden drops Walsh for god. As Madden drags Walsh toward the door, the Captain grabs... THE PICTURE OF ALEX AND LAUREN pulled off the lid of the Chess box, one of the pieces of tape left behind. The Captain exits. CUT TO: INT. "THE HOLE" - NIGHT MUSIC STILL POUNDS, lights swirl. But the club has cleared out, leaving human detritus, a handful of casualties from the stampede. WITH ALEX as he steps over the Two Bouncers, expired on the floor. A soft WHIMPERING marks the silence. The girl cuffed onstage. Alex goes up to the terrified girl. Close up, she looks way underage. He gathers her clothes, spots a key on the floor. ALEX How old are you? She listens as he unlocks the cuffs. ALEX (CONT'D) You have one chance to value your life. Take it. ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- 66. He watches as she hightails it out the front door, still half naked. As she leaves... THE CROW appears in the doorway near the broken bodies. Alex takes a deep breath, as if it hurts. The casualties. CAW. The Crow flies on, disappearing into the back rooms. Alex turns, follows... INT. "THE HOLE" - BACKSTAGE - NIGHT Alex moves past the empty makeup table. A lipstick cigarette smolders in an ashtray. People left in a hurry. MUSIC LOUD, as if inside our heads now. Alex continues... INT. "THE HOLE" - INTERNET PORN FACILITY Nobody home. Empty images refreshed every six seconds. Number of hits static now. Alex drawn now by the "No Admittance" Curtain which he approaches slowly, touching it and FLASH! ALEX'S INTERNAL POV - LAUREN looking over her shoulder, pulling back the "No Admittance" Curtain, going where she shouldn't go. ALEX Lauren? You were here? Lauren makes her stealthy way into.... INT. "THE HOLE" - BACK HALL - NIGHT revealed as Alex slips past the Curtain, retracing Lauren's footsteps. CAMERA FOLLOWS Alex CREEPING down the hall to... ALEX'S INTERNAL POV - LAUREN down the hall, peering inside the partially open Back Room door, then turning back startled TOWARD CAMERA as if suddenly overtaken. AT THE DOOR Alex turns back, like Lauren, looks behind him. The hallway is empty. He enters... INT. "THE HOLE" - BACK ROOM - NIGHT Darkness. As Alex gropes for a lightswitch, a LIGHTER FLARES. Toomey and Larkin lean in, light up in synch. Alex takes in the dark fringes, dim reflections off lots of eyes. Not taxidermy specimens. BAM BAM BAM BAM. A dozen police officers lining the walls empty cartridges into Alex in an angry, STROBING fusillade. In the silence that follows... LARKIN (after the fact) Don't move. ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- 67. The gang LAUGHS. Larkin makes his way to a light switch by the door. LARKIN (CONT'D) Drinks are on me. Larkin flips on the low-watt BARE BULBS hanging down past industrial pipes and conduit, casting a dim light on the cinderblock space. NO ALEX. ALEX Cheers. They look up and... BAM! Alex DROPS LARKIN with a shot to the forehead. BAM! He MISSES TOOMEY as bullets from below EXPLODE all around him. Alex scampers across framing as... The BARE BULBS burst, all but one, plunging us back in to near darkness as Alex drops to the ground near Larkin's fallen body. Jacks up the sleeve. No scar. Alex spots Toomey, rolls out as... THREE COPS pump rounds into Alex. BAM! Alex takes the middle Cop out, a TOONEY-LIKE GUY who falls onto Toomey, behind him. ALEX turns, forced to defend himself as FULL AUTO FIRE breaks open, the other flank, more advancing cops. While... TOOMEY crawls out from under the fallen copy, then backs out the door on hands and knees while... A FINAL EXPLOSIVE FUSILLADE leaves only Alex standing. As the echoes dissolve... Alex Alex moves to where Toomey was, bends down to check the body... THE NAMEPLATE - "TOOMEY" But the pin isn't fastened properly. The badge askew. RESUME - ALEX rolls the body over, finds another nameplate underneath. "Hauser." Heads off in search of... ALEX (CONT'D) Toomey! INT - "THE HOLE" - INTERNET PORN FACILITY - NIGHT Toomey is clearing the "No Admittance" curtain when... ALEX You dripped something! Toomey panics as he approaches... ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- 68. INTERNET FANTASY SETS Monitors still updating every six seconds. Toomey hears Alex coming, slips through the "Dungeon." BEHIND THE SHOWER FANTASY SET Toomey takes refuge out of sight, next to a GAS HOT WATER HEATER, quiet as a mouse. ALEX tears the "No Admittance" curtain completely off its rod, arriving at the fantasy sets just in time to see... THE DUNGEON MONITOR Toomey (frozen) scurrying through. Gone now as the monitor updates. Then Alex appears, following him through the set... WITH ALEX moving to the rear of the "dungeon," on Toomey's heels. WAM. Toomey hits him full force with A PIPE, sending Alex sprawling backward, COLLAPSING the flimsy Shower set. WAM. Toomey swings again, misses Alex, but connects with... THE GAS LINE to the water heater ripped out by the blow. HISS. The sound of gas, loud, as the line breaks. RESUME Alex straddles Toomey, just as Toomey manages to get his gun pointed in Alex's face. Hissing gas nearby. CLICK. Toomey cocks the gun. ALEX (CONT'D) Spark, gas... bad combination. And it's not this leak here, that's the least of your worries. WAM! Alex swings Toomey's pipe HARD at a much bigger GAS LINE right behind the gas heater, leaving it badly cracked. The hiss magnified 100% nos. ALEX (CONT'D) We're going to play a little game called "Who's got the Scar." TOOMEY What Scar? What fucking scar? ALEX (buzzer sound) AAAANK. That's not how we play the game. Alex jacks Toomey's sleeve down. No Scar. Alex pissed as Toomey locks eyes with him. Really seeing him now. TOOMEY You're him! You're Corvis! We fried your ass. You're dead, man! ALEX Good thing in a situation like this. We pick up... ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- 69. INT. "THE HOLE" - BACK ROOM - NIGHT Some light filters in as a door opens to the outside. A FIGURE enters, squats among the bodies. He leans in, closes larkin's eyes, and we see... It's Madden. Blood on his hands. He hears Alex's VOICE faintly, then Toomey cries out in pain. Madden moves toward... INT. "THE HOLE" - INTERNET PORN FACILITY - NIGHT Madden creeps down the hallway to the back room. VOICES growing louder. TOOMEY Fucking Zombie. ALEX The scar. TOOMEY There is no scar. I'm telling you. As Madden moves toward the conversation, his face registers the slightest of smiles. MADDEN'S CREEPING POV MONITORS obliquely visible as he reaches the end of the hall by the Fantasy sets. The "Shower" monitor shows Alex and Toomey, visible through the trashed set, updated every six seconds. MADDEN SNIFFS gas. The HISS now audible along with Alex's voice. Madden smiles. Pulls out his 9mm. And BACKS UP, away from the Fantasy Sets toward the back room. Madden takes aim at... THE FIRST MONITOR The images is Alex threatening Toomey. Updating now--LOSING ALEX on the Monitor as he steps into frame in person, looks up and BAM! CROWVISION a speeding bullet passes narrowly by and... ANGLE - GROUND ZERO as the bullet hits the monitor in a shower of sparks, followed by... BOOM! A ROILING FIREBALL Seems to vaporize Alex before flying down the hallway right at CAMERA. Madden manages a couple steps in retreat before it blows him into the back room with a deafening roar. EXT. "THE HOLE" - INFERNO - NIGHT BOOM! Windows blow out in a gas fired inferno. A body flung out the rear door. BOOM! ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- 70. EXT. "THE HOLE" - NIGHT Interior/exterior being less meaningful than seconds ago. Walls crumbled, roof blown off. BRIGHT FIRE consumes the frame, consumes the bodies of downed cops, consumes every last bit of oxygen and life. Distant SIRENS draw closer. A SLOW SCAN, someone's OBSTRUCTED POV of Hell. INCLUDE ALEX watching from under a collapsed cinderblock wall that offers some protection from the flames, if not the heat. He looks, intent now, spotting... THE ARM WITH THE ZIGZAG SCARIFICATION sticking out of the rubble, murky through the flames, growing clearer as camera PUSHES, flames licking at it... ALEX tries to move toward the arm. Forced back by too- intense flame as another beam falls, the rubble shifts and... THE ARM WITH THE ZIGZAG SCARIFICATION skeletal now, baked down to bones. A dozen short metal rods on the ground under it. He picks a few up. THE CAPTAIN drawn now to... UNDER THE RUBBLE - WHERE ALEX WAS water dripping off the concrete, collecting in the place where Alex hid. But he's long gone. The Captain drops the rods. Satisfied it's over. CUT TO: EXT. CITY STREET #5 - NIGHT Alex staggers along in bad shape. Up ahead... A GIRL in her twenties exits a building down a flight of stairs, waits at the bottom for her BOYFRIEND, who's locking the door. She sees Alex, gives him an empathetic look. Alex walks slowly closer. ALEX'S INTERNAL POV Lauren appearing to him, playing their game. But the words are wrong, distorted. LAUREN Your witness list is no match for my kung fu. Her Bruce Lee "Oooo" a siren call. RESUME Alex moving slowly forward on the street, drawn toward the girl who watches with horrified fascination. ALEX I'm losing you. ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- 71. ALEX'S INTERNAL POV LAUREN Your zigzag love scar is no match for... Lauren and Alex drawing very close now when... RESUME WAM. A FIST clocks Alex in the face, dropping him hard onto the pavement. GIRL Did you have to do that? BOYFRIEND How about "thank you." GIRL He's bleeding. ALEX I don't bleed. BOYFRIEND And delirious. Better steer clear. ALEX'S POV The Guy wraps his arm protectively around the girl, walks her off. Running into a COP at the next intersection. They POINT at... ALEX takes off, ducking into an alley. Confused. CAMERA CREEPS BACKWARD as he gathers his thoughts. CUT TO: INT. WALSH'S OFFICE - NIGHT RATTLE RATTLE. Alex's shadow visible through the frosted glass, jostling the locked door. ALEX Erin! SMASH. His arm PUNCHES through the glass, turn the knob. Alex enters, arm bleeding badly. He yanks a large piece of glass from his flesh. Painful. Alex registers that the rules have changed. He finds a necktie of Walsh's, uses it to bind the wound, staunch the flow. He scans the room again looking for... Something. But everything seems ok. He passes... The Chess Box, the picture of Lauren and Alex gone. Just a piece of TAPE left, sticking to the top of the open lid. ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- 72. OVER THE CHESS BOARD - ALEX the missing pic lost on him, drawn to the chess board where Walsh collapsed. Something wrong with the game. He finds... THE BLACK KING Off the board. On top of a stack of news clippings lying on the floor. Alex picks it up, LEAVING a RING OF BLOOD under. CAMERA PUSHES on the clipping underneath, the headline "City Leaders Vow Crackdown in Wake of Randall Murder." PUSHING, finding among the City Leaders... ALEX (CONT'D) The King. THE CAPTAIN'S FACE circled in blood. Camera continues to PUSH on the grainy newsprint, through it, until all we see are halftone pixels and the picture loses meaning. EXT. CITY - AIRBORNE - NIGHT The Police Station in sinister CROWVISION as we approach, swoop in and... INT. POLICE STATION - HALLWAY Alex walks the long approach to the Captain's office, past the empty Secretary's desk. KICKING the door open CRASH! into... INT. POLICE STATION - CAPTAIN'S OFFICE The Captain works alone at his desk under a standing lamp. Looks up unconcerned as Alex enters, walks to the desk, and SLAPS down the ring-of-blood clipping. CAPTAIN I hate that picture. ALEX Where are they? CAPTAIN Can I get you something? A glass of water? A transfusion? ALEX Where are they? Last chance. CAPTAIN Or what? You'll bleed all over my carpet? The Captain rises. CAPTAIN (CONT'D) You know crime was actually down until you showed up, or stuck (MORE) ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- 73. CAPTAIN (CONT'D) around, or whatever the hell you're doing here. (then) What are you doing here? ALEX I'm looking for my friends. CAPTAIN See, I heard you were looking for some guy with a scar. How's that going? You find him? Yes? No? Alex tenses as the Captain starts toward him. CAPTAIN (CONT'D) You are like the guest who would not leave, you know that? And judging from your condition, maybe you've overstayed your welcome. That's not a criticism. Just an observation. Alex draws the knife from his clothes. CAPTAIN (CONT'D) I don't think you're going to use it. That's Lauren's knife. Enraged, Alex SWIPES the knife. The Captain grabs his arm right at the blood soaked necktie, squeezes hard. Alex writhes in pain. In each other's faces now. CAPTAIN (CONT'D) You come in here al lfull of righteous indignation, but what have you got to be righteous about? THE KNIFE starting to fall from Alex's hand as the Captain continues to clamp down on his wound. CAPTAIN (CONT'D) How many innocent people did you leave dead back there? ALEX You sent them. I had no choice. CAPTAIN Bullshit. You're a killer, that's all you are. A clown with a bird and a rising death toll. You think the world did you wrong?! You did the world wrong. The Captain snatches the knife, RAMS it into Alex's midriff. ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- 74. CAPTAIN (CONT'D) You and Lauren had a fight. You couldn't let it go. FLASH EXT. OLD GROWTH GROVE - DAY ALEX'S INTERNAL POV Lauren in tears in Alex's car. LAUREN I can't say. ALEX He grabs for her. She pulls violently away. LAUREN Don't touch me! RESUME INT. POLICE STATION - CAPTAIN'S OFFICE - NIGHT WHOOMP. Another stab into Alex. There will be fifty three. CAPTAIN It was one thing her dad rejected you. But when she did you lost it. ALEX You're wrong. CAPTAIN Yeah? I see doubt oozing out your arm. Where do people go when they kill their girlfriends? FLASH ALEX'S INTERNAL POV Alex back at the inferno, cowering from flames. RESUME The Captain full of righteous conviction. CAPTAIN (CONT'D) Screwed up kid stabs her fifty three times. Where would he end up? The Captain bent over Alex, stabbing him. ALEX'S INTERNAL POV (INTERCUT WITH PREVIOUS) FLASHES move us backward along the path we've taken so far, a tour of hell on earth, the blast of infernal winds and the ever-present voice of the Captain, condemning. CAPTAIN'S VOICE Take a look! Strippers writhe at "The Hole." ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- 75. CAPTAIN'S VOICE (CONT'D) That's who you are! The Porsche explodes. CAPTAIN'S VOICE (CONT'D) You sick fuck! Look at it! Alex blasts Dutton. BAM! CAPTAIN'S VOICE (CONT'D) Every loser name anyone ever called you was true! Alex escapes the taser. Mercer drops. CAPTAIN'S VOICE (CONT'D) Are you looking? Answer me! Time SCREECHING to a halt, all the movement converging on a single, quiet image. One we've seen before... Alex in the chair. But his last words are different. ALEX I loved Lauren. I never meant to hurt her. ZAP. Electro-spasm as the switch is thrown. No scar, no meltdown, just violent fibrillations that moderate, finally as we MATCH TO... RESUME - THE CAPTAIN'S OFFICE The Captain shaking Alex, holding something in front of Alex's face. CAPTAIN You see it? Huh? Did you see it? Alex's eye's gone dead, no longer seeing... THE PHOTO - LAUREN AND ALEX IN THE WOODS arms around each other. Familiar, but on second take, it's like the crime scene photos... Lauren's NECK is SLASHED, her body riddled with stab wounds. Alex has a big smile on his face, his arm around her, her head on his shoulder. 100% sociopath. RESUME CAPTAIN (CONT'D) Yeah. I think you fucking saw it. The Captain drops Alex lifeless and bloody to the floor. Only the sound of the Captain panting now, then... The sound of slow clapping. Madden walks into the room from behind perimeter curtains. CLAP CLAP CLAP. ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- 76. MADDEN You were right. Picture's worth a thousand words. Madden kicks Alex lightly, nudging him. No life signes. The Captain rips the picture in two. Tosses it in the trash. CAPTAIN Just don't believe everything you see. MADDEN Doubt is a motherfucker. CAPTAIN Give me a hand with this sack of shit. INT. MYSTERY ROOM - NIGHT NEW ANGLE - THROUGH A WINDOW DARKLY Madden and the Captain grab Alex, one at each end. SECRETARY He's cute. Was cute. REVEAL, this is the Secretary's POV through the window. She's bent over someone's toes, painting them BLUE. WIDE. The Mystery Room revealed. Taxidermy specimens line the wall and the table. Erin stands in PROFILE in the middle of the room, strangely silent, hands tied overhead by a rope that runs to the ceiling. The Secretary brushing polish on Erin's toes. SECRETARY (CONT'D) But the face, well, makeup can work for you or against you. Right? The Secretary applies a last flourish of polish, then stands, kisses Erin gently. SECRETARY (CONT'D) All done. Very nice. (then) You're a good listener. The Secretary moves off REVEALING... ERIN'S FACE MOUTH SEWN shut in a rough zigzag stitch, like the scar. Her eyes dart as... THE DOOR opens. The Captain and Madden carry Alex in. Madden sweeps the TAXIDERMY SPECIMENS back with his hand, clearing a space for Alex on the table. Among them... ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- 77. THE CROW on its Corvus Brachyrhynchos stand takes a small hop backward, this sign of life unnoticed as... RESUME WHUMP. Alex heaved onto the table. MADDEN So was he dead? Or alive? The Secretary puts her ear to Alex's lifeless lips. CAPTAIN I've seen birds stuffed and mounted so lifelike you'd swear you saw them breathing. This reminds him... he looks at the Crow on the stand. Lifeless, stuffed. As it should be. CAPTAIN (CONT'D) Maybe we had a case of that here. (to Secretary) Get me my kit. MADDEN You two are majorly demented. Anyone ever tell you that? The Secretary steps off to grab thekit, leaving Alex's lifeless open eyes pointing toward Erin, reflected in his eyeballs first before... ANGLE - ERIN looking up at her own hands, bound above her as she eases them apart and... The HEART SHAPED LOCKET slips from between her palms and she closes them again in time to catch the chain, the locket swinging. ON THE TABLE X-CLOSE. The locket reflected in Alex's lifeless open eyes a second before... The Secretary returns, blocking the sightline. Lays out the Kit, nasty looking tools left over from the Inquisition. Then unbuttons Alex's tattered shirt, undressing him for the procedure. Stab wounds everywhere. SECRETARY Fifty three? CAPTAIN In all the excitement I kind of lost count. (then) I think I'll mount him with his head up his ass. A large KNIFE, the Lauren murder weapon, angles in at the base of Alex'sneck where the Secretary's head was. ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- 78. THE CROW - OVERCRANKED moves on the table. Takes flight. THE TRIO turn toward the commotion. CAPTAIN (CONT'D) Grab it! THE LOCKET - OVERCRANKED Snatched in midair by the Crow from Erin's praying hands. FLASH! ALEX/CROW'S INTERNAL POV HIGH ANGLE CROWVISION. Dim memories from the woods. Anamorphic and dark. Two figures--Alex and Erin--kneeling. RESUME - THE LOCKET released from the Crow's beak, passing through the TRIO'S HANDS uncaught, bouncing off Alex onto the table, in front of his open eyes. ALEX/CROW'S INTERNAL POV FLASH. AT GROUND LEVEL. Alex fastens the LOCKET around her neck. The distortion lessening, becoming Alex's POV. ALEX ... it connects you to me... FLASH. ERIN No matter what happens... you're innocent... I promise... FLASH. Alex painting her face. RESUME Alex BLINKS. The Captain reacts--oh shit--starts to bring the knife down, a hurried strike at Alex's chest. WAM! Alex grabs the Captain's arm in his hand, stopping the movement on a dime. ALEX All lies. Everything you ever showed me. MADDEN pulls a gun, points it at Erin. ALEX jumps up, flying INTO the gun as it goes off. CRASH! They tumble THROUGH THE WINDOW into the Captain's office while... THE CAPTAIN cuts down the rope holding Erin. She collapses... ON THE TABLE strewn with blades, secreting one between her hands, in the second before... THE CAPTAIN drags Erin off. The Secretary flails at the Crow with a metal ROD, while... IN THE CAPTAIN'S OFFICE Madden has the gun on Alex now. BAM! No effect. BAM! ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- 79. Madden sweating it now, continuing to shoot with no effect as... THE MYSTERY ROOM The Secretary finally connects with the Crow, batting it against the wall, noticing this coincides with... Alex goes flying against the desk, winged himself. Madden c Onfused, not understanding. SECRETARY (O.S.) It's the bird! Kill it! Madden wheels, points the gun through the busted-out picture window into... The SECRETARY dives for cover as bullets explode around her. The Crow dancing, sprayed with debris. CUT TO: INT. POLICE STATION - ELEVATOR - NIGHT CLOSE. Floor lights sequence above the door, heading for underground parking. "5 - 4 - 3..." The Captain watches the lights. Erin is slumped face first against the side of the elevator opposite him. CAPTAIN You brought him back. Good. He owes you. We'll stick together, you and I. ON ERIN face pressed against the elevator wall, intent. CAPTAIN (CONT'D) Seen but not heard. They ought to make it a law. Erin winces, looks down... THE BLADE emerging from her sleeve as she tries to hold it with her two bound hands. DING. The elevator jerks to a stop. THE CAPTAIN grabs her off the floor and she RAMS the blade into his abdomen with the force of the entire body. Twists it. The elevator doors open. ERIN pulls out the blade, claws her way out the door, the Captain hanging on to her, finally getting free as she swipes at him again, drawing fresh blood. Running now, into... INT. POLICE STATION - PARKING GARAGE - NIGHT Erin stumbles between cars in the dark underground garage, cutting the cord off her hands, leaving it behind as... ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- 80. Behind her, the Captain unsteady on his feet, a wounded animal. He pulls out a GLOCK 9MM and KA-CHUNK. Cycles it. Erin dives between cars, scrambling on hands and knees. Looks around. HER POV - SCANNING a small garage with a few police cruisers by a SERVICE AREA and no people. A barred GATE over the exit. No way out. ERIN winces. Then stifles a cry as she cuts the stitches off her mouth with the knife. Drops the threads on the floor and moves off... CUT TO: INT. POLICE STATION - CAPTAIN'S OFFICE - NIGHT Alex runs past the glass AWARDS CASE, takes a flying leap behind the desk, seeking cover as Madden empties a clip at him. The slide ratchets back. Madden SLAMS another clip in, advances on Alex, hidden behind the shredded desk as... THE SECRETARY clears stuffed birds off the table trying to expose the wounded crow cowering back against the wall. SECRETARY Here pretty bird. Here birdy. WHOP! She grabs it, the Crow flapping desperately as... IN THE CAPTAIN'S OFFICE Madden creeps up on the desk, peers over it. Nothing. Out of nowhere... WAM! Alex rushes Madden, bulldozing him across the room with a pained cry of brute force toward... THE AWARDS CASE CRASH! Glass shatters as Alex hurls Madden, who swivels around in time to get off a last shot BAM! That collapses Alex to the floor. IN THE MYSTERY ROOM The Crow squeezes out of the Secretary's grasp, leaving her holding a couple feathers. AT THE AWARD'S CASE Alex hauls himself off the floor as the Crow joins him. Seeing... MADDEN'S HEAD has taken its place among glass bowls and trophies, half decapitated by the glass shelf it now rests on. Down the shelf from the stuffed bird. ALEX rushes through the blown out window into... Seeing for the first time that Erin is gone, the rope hanging from the ceiling, finding... THE SECRETARY ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- 81. SECRETARY (CONT'D) sitting on the floor, painting her own toenails BLUE, leaning up against the wall. ALEX Where'd they go? Alex eases the Secretary to her feet with a hand around her neck, her back to the wall. She looks UP, smiling at... WALSH - RIGHT ARM MISSING hangs high overhead from some kind of hook. His arm has been crudely removed. Underneath him, on the table, a BOX of 2" surgical stainless steel rods sits by a pool of blood. ALEX yells, reeling, as... The door flies open. A half dozen cops in, all targeting Alex as... THE SECRETARY plunges the Lauren KNIFE in Alex's back. He spins violently THROWING her HARD against the wall. WAM! Surprise!-she sticks. REVEAL, she's impaled on ANTELOPE ANTLERS, hanging off the wall. Her head drops, looking down as a stream of blood flows down her legs, drips off her toes... SECRETARY (dying words) My nails. BAM BAM BAM. The new arrivals open fire. Alex reaches over his shoulder, yanks out the knife with an odd slurping sound as... CUT TO: INT. POLICE STATION - PARKING GARAGE The sound of GUNFIRE filters down from above as the Captain hunts his hidden prey. He stops, studies... ERIN'S POV - LOW ANGLE LOOKING UNDER A CAR The Captain's feet, joined by his hand as he picks up the thread she left on the ground. INCLUDE ERIN SECRETARY reproving herself as she turns toward camera. She looks back under the car, but... The Captain's feet have moved off. Where? She listens, hears nothing. Slips off... NEW ANGLE - ERIN takes refuge in the service area, crouching behind stacks of TIRES. Knife at the ready. ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- 82. The Captain's FOOTSTEPS audible. HER OBSTRUCTED POV between stacks of tires, the Captain, Glock at ready, PASSES BY, moving out of sight. Footsteps RECEDING. Then silent. ERIN Listening, neurons firing. Cranes her neck to see. Nothing. WIDER the Captain appears BEHIND ERIN, over the stacks of tires. She's oblivious, then... Erin wheels, slashes across his wrist. The Glock falls, Erin grabs it, levels it at the Captain. Her finger tense on the trigger. CAPTAIN (re: gun) I know you too well. You won't do it. ERIN You don't know me at all. BAM! She pulls the trigger, simultaneously wrenching the gun, aiming just enough off that... THE CAPTAIN yells in pain, rushes his hand to his ear, a bloody mess. He starts advancing again toward her and Erin pulls... THE TRIGGER again, again, again.

hurry

How many times the word 'hurry' appears in the text?

Alex starts off... BAM! He's blown back by a shot half lost in the noisy club. No panic yet. ONSTAGE the strippers break character, looking. The audience turns as... ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- 63. NEAR THE ENTRANCE The First Bouncer goes flying above the heads of the crowd, getting off a dramatic SHOT while airborne, inducing... PANDEMONIUM Patrons stampeding as BAM BAM! Alex taking bullets, the miracle lost in the chaotic exit. The Bouncers out of sight underfoot. ON ALEX visible again, back on his feet. Buffeted, stationary as everyone flees. With the exodus still at flood stage... CUT TO: INT. WALSH'S OFFICE - NIGHT ON WALSH, in motion as he puts on a jacket, throws some papers into a briefcase. He's nervous, ill-suited for this cloak and dagger stuff, chattering... WALSH We'll be safe in my car. Nobody will recognize it. Let's move yours in back, no, down the block. Hope it's nothing fancy. There's a chop shop around the corner. She's looking elsewhere, at the door that has quietly opened. The Captain stands there. Somber reptile. Holding a sheaf of papers in one hand. ERIN You followed me here. CAPTAIN No... Erin, I put out a bulletin on your car because... there's bad news. And I thought you should hear it from me. She stares at him expressionless. CAPTAIN (CONT'D) Your father got involved with some bad cops. On my force, so I take responsibility. (beat, then) He killed himself. She talks with great difficulty. ERIN How? CAPTAIN How did he kill himself? She nods. ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- 64. CAPTAIN (CONT'D) With a gun. Is that what you mean? ERIN No. I mean... how did he kill himself How do you figure he killed himself--with a gun, right--when it wasn't anywhere near where you found him? He takes a step toward her. She pulls out the Blood Pistol. Seems crazy enough to use it. ERIN (CONT'D) You killed him. WALSH Erin. Don't. ERIN Back the fuck off! Now! The Captain stops, gently tosses the sheaf of papers toward her, onto Walsh's desk. The papers Nathan was preparing. Walsh looks at them while... CAPTAIN He left this. Names, addresses, a note to you. These people he was involved with killed Lauren. He couldn't bear it anymore. WALSH My God. He's right, it's all here. ERIN The note. Show it to me. Erin has one eye on the papers now, recognizes her dad's hand. The Captain inches forward. ERIN (CONT'D) (to Captain) Not you! (to Walsh) Show it to me. The Captain steps forward, right to the desk. Erin backed into a corner now. CAPTAIN It's right there, under that paper. (grabs a note) Here. Look. She holds a hand out for the note, taking her eye off the situation for one second as she reads... ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- 65. THE NOTE A bunch of numbers added together in her father's hand. Not a suicide note. THE CAPTAIN grabs Erin's wrist and BAM! A chunk of the ceiling falls as the weapon discharges. The Captain throws her in a chokehold, her finger still on the trigger. CAPTAIN (CONT'D) You were always the stupid one. She fights as the Captain wraps his own hand over hers, wrestles her arm toward Walsh, in the sights now. BAM! WALSH blown backward, collapsing by the Chess Board. Trying to pull himself up. Erin struggling. As... MADDEN enters from the hall, in a hurry, gun drawn. MADDEN You need help? He nods toward Walsh, who is moving, barely. CAPTAIN Hurry. We don't have much time. BAM. A shot from Madden drops Walsh for god. As Madden drags Walsh toward the door, the Captain grabs... THE PICTURE OF ALEX AND LAUREN pulled off the lid of the Chess box, one of the pieces of tape left behind. The Captain exits. CUT TO: INT. "THE HOLE" - NIGHT MUSIC STILL POUNDS, lights swirl. But the club has cleared out, leaving human detritus, a handful of casualties from the stampede. WITH ALEX as he steps over the Two Bouncers, expired on the floor. A soft WHIMPERING marks the silence. The girl cuffed onstage. Alex goes up to the terrified girl. Close up, she looks way underage. He gathers her clothes, spots a key on the floor. ALEX How old are you? She listens as he unlocks the cuffs. ALEX (CONT'D) You have one chance to value your life. Take it. ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- 66. He watches as she hightails it out the front door, still half naked. As she leaves... THE CROW appears in the doorway near the broken bodies. Alex takes a deep breath, as if it hurts. The casualties. CAW. The Crow flies on, disappearing into the back rooms. Alex turns, follows... INT. "THE HOLE" - BACKSTAGE - NIGHT Alex moves past the empty makeup table. A lipstick cigarette smolders in an ashtray. People left in a hurry. MUSIC LOUD, as if inside our heads now. Alex continues... INT. "THE HOLE" - INTERNET PORN FACILITY Nobody home. Empty images refreshed every six seconds. Number of hits static now. Alex drawn now by the "No Admittance" Curtain which he approaches slowly, touching it and FLASH! ALEX'S INTERNAL POV - LAUREN looking over her shoulder, pulling back the "No Admittance" Curtain, going where she shouldn't go. ALEX Lauren? You were here? Lauren makes her stealthy way into.... INT. "THE HOLE" - BACK HALL - NIGHT revealed as Alex slips past the Curtain, retracing Lauren's footsteps. CAMERA FOLLOWS Alex CREEPING down the hall to... ALEX'S INTERNAL POV - LAUREN down the hall, peering inside the partially open Back Room door, then turning back startled TOWARD CAMERA as if suddenly overtaken. AT THE DOOR Alex turns back, like Lauren, looks behind him. The hallway is empty. He enters... INT. "THE HOLE" - BACK ROOM - NIGHT Darkness. As Alex gropes for a lightswitch, a LIGHTER FLARES. Toomey and Larkin lean in, light up in synch. Alex takes in the dark fringes, dim reflections off lots of eyes. Not taxidermy specimens. BAM BAM BAM BAM. A dozen police officers lining the walls empty cartridges into Alex in an angry, STROBING fusillade. In the silence that follows... LARKIN (after the fact) Don't move. ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- 67. The gang LAUGHS. Larkin makes his way to a light switch by the door. LARKIN (CONT'D) Drinks are on me. Larkin flips on the low-watt BARE BULBS hanging down past industrial pipes and conduit, casting a dim light on the cinderblock space. NO ALEX. ALEX Cheers. They look up and... BAM! Alex DROPS LARKIN with a shot to the forehead. BAM! He MISSES TOOMEY as bullets from below EXPLODE all around him. Alex scampers across framing as... The BARE BULBS burst, all but one, plunging us back in to near darkness as Alex drops to the ground near Larkin's fallen body. Jacks up the sleeve. No scar. Alex spots Toomey, rolls out as... THREE COPS pump rounds into Alex. BAM! Alex takes the middle Cop out, a TOONEY-LIKE GUY who falls onto Toomey, behind him. ALEX turns, forced to defend himself as FULL AUTO FIRE breaks open, the other flank, more advancing cops. While... TOOMEY crawls out from under the fallen copy, then backs out the door on hands and knees while... A FINAL EXPLOSIVE FUSILLADE leaves only Alex standing. As the echoes dissolve... Alex Alex moves to where Toomey was, bends down to check the body... THE NAMEPLATE - "TOOMEY" But the pin isn't fastened properly. The badge askew. RESUME - ALEX rolls the body over, finds another nameplate underneath. "Hauser." Heads off in search of... ALEX (CONT'D) Toomey! INT - "THE HOLE" - INTERNET PORN FACILITY - NIGHT Toomey is clearing the "No Admittance" curtain when... ALEX You dripped something! Toomey panics as he approaches... ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- 68. INTERNET FANTASY SETS Monitors still updating every six seconds. Toomey hears Alex coming, slips through the "Dungeon." BEHIND THE SHOWER FANTASY SET Toomey takes refuge out of sight, next to a GAS HOT WATER HEATER, quiet as a mouse. ALEX tears the "No Admittance" curtain completely off its rod, arriving at the fantasy sets just in time to see... THE DUNGEON MONITOR Toomey (frozen) scurrying through. Gone now as the monitor updates. Then Alex appears, following him through the set... WITH ALEX moving to the rear of the "dungeon," on Toomey's heels. WAM. Toomey hits him full force with A PIPE, sending Alex sprawling backward, COLLAPSING the flimsy Shower set. WAM. Toomey swings again, misses Alex, but connects with... THE GAS LINE to the water heater ripped out by the blow. HISS. The sound of gas, loud, as the line breaks. RESUME Alex straddles Toomey, just as Toomey manages to get his gun pointed in Alex's face. Hissing gas nearby. CLICK. Toomey cocks the gun. ALEX (CONT'D) Spark, gas... bad combination. And it's not this leak here, that's the least of your worries. WAM! Alex swings Toomey's pipe HARD at a much bigger GAS LINE right behind the gas heater, leaving it badly cracked. The hiss magnified 100% nos. ALEX (CONT'D) We're going to play a little game called "Who's got the Scar." TOOMEY What Scar? What fucking scar? ALEX (buzzer sound) AAAANK. That's not how we play the game. Alex jacks Toomey's sleeve down. No Scar. Alex pissed as Toomey locks eyes with him. Really seeing him now. TOOMEY You're him! You're Corvis! We fried your ass. You're dead, man! ALEX Good thing in a situation like this. We pick up... ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- 69. INT. "THE HOLE" - BACK ROOM - NIGHT Some light filters in as a door opens to the outside. A FIGURE enters, squats among the bodies. He leans in, closes larkin's eyes, and we see... It's Madden. Blood on his hands. He hears Alex's VOICE faintly, then Toomey cries out in pain. Madden moves toward... INT. "THE HOLE" - INTERNET PORN FACILITY - NIGHT Madden creeps down the hallway to the back room. VOICES growing louder. TOOMEY Fucking Zombie. ALEX The scar. TOOMEY There is no scar. I'm telling you. As Madden moves toward the conversation, his face registers the slightest of smiles. MADDEN'S CREEPING POV MONITORS obliquely visible as he reaches the end of the hall by the Fantasy sets. The "Shower" monitor shows Alex and Toomey, visible through the trashed set, updated every six seconds. MADDEN SNIFFS gas. The HISS now audible along with Alex's voice. Madden smiles. Pulls out his 9mm. And BACKS UP, away from the Fantasy Sets toward the back room. Madden takes aim at... THE FIRST MONITOR The images is Alex threatening Toomey. Updating now--LOSING ALEX on the Monitor as he steps into frame in person, looks up and BAM! CROWVISION a speeding bullet passes narrowly by and... ANGLE - GROUND ZERO as the bullet hits the monitor in a shower of sparks, followed by... BOOM! A ROILING FIREBALL Seems to vaporize Alex before flying down the hallway right at CAMERA. Madden manages a couple steps in retreat before it blows him into the back room with a deafening roar. EXT. "THE HOLE" - INFERNO - NIGHT BOOM! Windows blow out in a gas fired inferno. A body flung out the rear door. BOOM! ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- 70. EXT. "THE HOLE" - NIGHT Interior/exterior being less meaningful than seconds ago. Walls crumbled, roof blown off. BRIGHT FIRE consumes the frame, consumes the bodies of downed cops, consumes every last bit of oxygen and life. Distant SIRENS draw closer. A SLOW SCAN, someone's OBSTRUCTED POV of Hell. INCLUDE ALEX watching from under a collapsed cinderblock wall that offers some protection from the flames, if not the heat. He looks, intent now, spotting... THE ARM WITH THE ZIGZAG SCARIFICATION sticking out of the rubble, murky through the flames, growing clearer as camera PUSHES, flames licking at it... ALEX tries to move toward the arm. Forced back by too- intense flame as another beam falls, the rubble shifts and... THE ARM WITH THE ZIGZAG SCARIFICATION skeletal now, baked down to bones. A dozen short metal rods on the ground under it. He picks a few up. THE CAPTAIN drawn now to... UNDER THE RUBBLE - WHERE ALEX WAS water dripping off the concrete, collecting in the place where Alex hid. But he's long gone. The Captain drops the rods. Satisfied it's over. CUT TO: EXT. CITY STREET #5 - NIGHT Alex staggers along in bad shape. Up ahead... A GIRL in her twenties exits a building down a flight of stairs, waits at the bottom for her BOYFRIEND, who's locking the door. She sees Alex, gives him an empathetic look. Alex walks slowly closer. ALEX'S INTERNAL POV Lauren appearing to him, playing their game. But the words are wrong, distorted. LAUREN Your witness list is no match for my kung fu. Her Bruce Lee "Oooo" a siren call. RESUME Alex moving slowly forward on the street, drawn toward the girl who watches with horrified fascination. ALEX I'm losing you. ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- 71. ALEX'S INTERNAL POV LAUREN Your zigzag love scar is no match for... Lauren and Alex drawing very close now when... RESUME WAM. A FIST clocks Alex in the face, dropping him hard onto the pavement. GIRL Did you have to do that? BOYFRIEND How about "thank you." GIRL He's bleeding. ALEX I don't bleed. BOYFRIEND And delirious. Better steer clear. ALEX'S POV The Guy wraps his arm protectively around the girl, walks her off. Running into a COP at the next intersection. They POINT at... ALEX takes off, ducking into an alley. Confused. CAMERA CREEPS BACKWARD as he gathers his thoughts. CUT TO: INT. WALSH'S OFFICE - NIGHT RATTLE RATTLE. Alex's shadow visible through the frosted glass, jostling the locked door. ALEX Erin! SMASH. His arm PUNCHES through the glass, turn the knob. Alex enters, arm bleeding badly. He yanks a large piece of glass from his flesh. Painful. Alex registers that the rules have changed. He finds a necktie of Walsh's, uses it to bind the wound, staunch the flow. He scans the room again looking for... Something. But everything seems ok. He passes... The Chess Box, the picture of Lauren and Alex gone. Just a piece of TAPE left, sticking to the top of the open lid. ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- 72. OVER THE CHESS BOARD - ALEX the missing pic lost on him, drawn to the chess board where Walsh collapsed. Something wrong with the game. He finds... THE BLACK KING Off the board. On top of a stack of news clippings lying on the floor. Alex picks it up, LEAVING a RING OF BLOOD under. CAMERA PUSHES on the clipping underneath, the headline "City Leaders Vow Crackdown in Wake of Randall Murder." PUSHING, finding among the City Leaders... ALEX (CONT'D) The King. THE CAPTAIN'S FACE circled in blood. Camera continues to PUSH on the grainy newsprint, through it, until all we see are halftone pixels and the picture loses meaning. EXT. CITY - AIRBORNE - NIGHT The Police Station in sinister CROWVISION as we approach, swoop in and... INT. POLICE STATION - HALLWAY Alex walks the long approach to the Captain's office, past the empty Secretary's desk. KICKING the door open CRASH! into... INT. POLICE STATION - CAPTAIN'S OFFICE The Captain works alone at his desk under a standing lamp. Looks up unconcerned as Alex enters, walks to the desk, and SLAPS down the ring-of-blood clipping. CAPTAIN I hate that picture. ALEX Where are they? CAPTAIN Can I get you something? A glass of water? A transfusion? ALEX Where are they? Last chance. CAPTAIN Or what? You'll bleed all over my carpet? The Captain rises. CAPTAIN (CONT'D) You know crime was actually down until you showed up, or stuck (MORE) ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- 73. CAPTAIN (CONT'D) around, or whatever the hell you're doing here. (then) What are you doing here? ALEX I'm looking for my friends. CAPTAIN See, I heard you were looking for some guy with a scar. How's that going? You find him? Yes? No? Alex tenses as the Captain starts toward him. CAPTAIN (CONT'D) You are like the guest who would not leave, you know that? And judging from your condition, maybe you've overstayed your welcome. That's not a criticism. Just an observation. Alex draws the knife from his clothes. CAPTAIN (CONT'D) I don't think you're going to use it. That's Lauren's knife. Enraged, Alex SWIPES the knife. The Captain grabs his arm right at the blood soaked necktie, squeezes hard. Alex writhes in pain. In each other's faces now. CAPTAIN (CONT'D) You come in here al lfull of righteous indignation, but what have you got to be righteous about? THE KNIFE starting to fall from Alex's hand as the Captain continues to clamp down on his wound. CAPTAIN (CONT'D) How many innocent people did you leave dead back there? ALEX You sent them. I had no choice. CAPTAIN Bullshit. You're a killer, that's all you are. A clown with a bird and a rising death toll. You think the world did you wrong?! You did the world wrong. The Captain snatches the knife, RAMS it into Alex's midriff. ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- 74. CAPTAIN (CONT'D) You and Lauren had a fight. You couldn't let it go. FLASH EXT. OLD GROWTH GROVE - DAY ALEX'S INTERNAL POV Lauren in tears in Alex's car. LAUREN I can't say. ALEX He grabs for her. She pulls violently away. LAUREN Don't touch me! RESUME INT. POLICE STATION - CAPTAIN'S OFFICE - NIGHT WHOOMP. Another stab into Alex. There will be fifty three. CAPTAIN It was one thing her dad rejected you. But when she did you lost it. ALEX You're wrong. CAPTAIN Yeah? I see doubt oozing out your arm. Where do people go when they kill their girlfriends? FLASH ALEX'S INTERNAL POV Alex back at the inferno, cowering from flames. RESUME The Captain full of righteous conviction. CAPTAIN (CONT'D) Screwed up kid stabs her fifty three times. Where would he end up? The Captain bent over Alex, stabbing him. ALEX'S INTERNAL POV (INTERCUT WITH PREVIOUS) FLASHES move us backward along the path we've taken so far, a tour of hell on earth, the blast of infernal winds and the ever-present voice of the Captain, condemning. CAPTAIN'S VOICE Take a look! Strippers writhe at "The Hole." ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- 75. CAPTAIN'S VOICE (CONT'D) That's who you are! The Porsche explodes. CAPTAIN'S VOICE (CONT'D) You sick fuck! Look at it! Alex blasts Dutton. BAM! CAPTAIN'S VOICE (CONT'D) Every loser name anyone ever called you was true! Alex escapes the taser. Mercer drops. CAPTAIN'S VOICE (CONT'D) Are you looking? Answer me! Time SCREECHING to a halt, all the movement converging on a single, quiet image. One we've seen before... Alex in the chair. But his last words are different. ALEX I loved Lauren. I never meant to hurt her. ZAP. Electro-spasm as the switch is thrown. No scar, no meltdown, just violent fibrillations that moderate, finally as we MATCH TO... RESUME - THE CAPTAIN'S OFFICE The Captain shaking Alex, holding something in front of Alex's face. CAPTAIN You see it? Huh? Did you see it? Alex's eye's gone dead, no longer seeing... THE PHOTO - LAUREN AND ALEX IN THE WOODS arms around each other. Familiar, but on second take, it's like the crime scene photos... Lauren's NECK is SLASHED, her body riddled with stab wounds. Alex has a big smile on his face, his arm around her, her head on his shoulder. 100% sociopath. RESUME CAPTAIN (CONT'D) Yeah. I think you fucking saw it. The Captain drops Alex lifeless and bloody to the floor. Only the sound of the Captain panting now, then... The sound of slow clapping. Madden walks into the room from behind perimeter curtains. CLAP CLAP CLAP. ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- 76. MADDEN You were right. Picture's worth a thousand words. Madden kicks Alex lightly, nudging him. No life signes. The Captain rips the picture in two. Tosses it in the trash. CAPTAIN Just don't believe everything you see. MADDEN Doubt is a motherfucker. CAPTAIN Give me a hand with this sack of shit. INT. MYSTERY ROOM - NIGHT NEW ANGLE - THROUGH A WINDOW DARKLY Madden and the Captain grab Alex, one at each end. SECRETARY He's cute. Was cute. REVEAL, this is the Secretary's POV through the window. She's bent over someone's toes, painting them BLUE. WIDE. The Mystery Room revealed. Taxidermy specimens line the wall and the table. Erin stands in PROFILE in the middle of the room, strangely silent, hands tied overhead by a rope that runs to the ceiling. The Secretary brushing polish on Erin's toes. SECRETARY (CONT'D) But the face, well, makeup can work for you or against you. Right? The Secretary applies a last flourish of polish, then stands, kisses Erin gently. SECRETARY (CONT'D) All done. Very nice. (then) You're a good listener. The Secretary moves off REVEALING... ERIN'S FACE MOUTH SEWN shut in a rough zigzag stitch, like the scar. Her eyes dart as... THE DOOR opens. The Captain and Madden carry Alex in. Madden sweeps the TAXIDERMY SPECIMENS back with his hand, clearing a space for Alex on the table. Among them... ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- 77. THE CROW on its Corvus Brachyrhynchos stand takes a small hop backward, this sign of life unnoticed as... RESUME WHUMP. Alex heaved onto the table. MADDEN So was he dead? Or alive? The Secretary puts her ear to Alex's lifeless lips. CAPTAIN I've seen birds stuffed and mounted so lifelike you'd swear you saw them breathing. This reminds him... he looks at the Crow on the stand. Lifeless, stuffed. As it should be. CAPTAIN (CONT'D) Maybe we had a case of that here. (to Secretary) Get me my kit. MADDEN You two are majorly demented. Anyone ever tell you that? The Secretary steps off to grab thekit, leaving Alex's lifeless open eyes pointing toward Erin, reflected in his eyeballs first before... ANGLE - ERIN looking up at her own hands, bound above her as she eases them apart and... The HEART SHAPED LOCKET slips from between her palms and she closes them again in time to catch the chain, the locket swinging. ON THE TABLE X-CLOSE. The locket reflected in Alex's lifeless open eyes a second before... The Secretary returns, blocking the sightline. Lays out the Kit, nasty looking tools left over from the Inquisition. Then unbuttons Alex's tattered shirt, undressing him for the procedure. Stab wounds everywhere. SECRETARY Fifty three? CAPTAIN In all the excitement I kind of lost count. (then) I think I'll mount him with his head up his ass. A large KNIFE, the Lauren murder weapon, angles in at the base of Alex'sneck where the Secretary's head was. ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- 78. THE CROW - OVERCRANKED moves on the table. Takes flight. THE TRIO turn toward the commotion. CAPTAIN (CONT'D) Grab it! THE LOCKET - OVERCRANKED Snatched in midair by the Crow from Erin's praying hands. FLASH! ALEX/CROW'S INTERNAL POV HIGH ANGLE CROWVISION. Dim memories from the woods. Anamorphic and dark. Two figures--Alex and Erin--kneeling. RESUME - THE LOCKET released from the Crow's beak, passing through the TRIO'S HANDS uncaught, bouncing off Alex onto the table, in front of his open eyes. ALEX/CROW'S INTERNAL POV FLASH. AT GROUND LEVEL. Alex fastens the LOCKET around her neck. The distortion lessening, becoming Alex's POV. ALEX ... it connects you to me... FLASH. ERIN No matter what happens... you're innocent... I promise... FLASH. Alex painting her face. RESUME Alex BLINKS. The Captain reacts--oh shit--starts to bring the knife down, a hurried strike at Alex's chest. WAM! Alex grabs the Captain's arm in his hand, stopping the movement on a dime. ALEX All lies. Everything you ever showed me. MADDEN pulls a gun, points it at Erin. ALEX jumps up, flying INTO the gun as it goes off. CRASH! They tumble THROUGH THE WINDOW into the Captain's office while... THE CAPTAIN cuts down the rope holding Erin. She collapses... ON THE TABLE strewn with blades, secreting one between her hands, in the second before... THE CAPTAIN drags Erin off. The Secretary flails at the Crow with a metal ROD, while... IN THE CAPTAIN'S OFFICE Madden has the gun on Alex now. BAM! No effect. BAM! ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- 79. Madden sweating it now, continuing to shoot with no effect as... THE MYSTERY ROOM The Secretary finally connects with the Crow, batting it against the wall, noticing this coincides with... Alex goes flying against the desk, winged himself. Madden c Onfused, not understanding. SECRETARY (O.S.) It's the bird! Kill it! Madden wheels, points the gun through the busted-out picture window into... The SECRETARY dives for cover as bullets explode around her. The Crow dancing, sprayed with debris. CUT TO: INT. POLICE STATION - ELEVATOR - NIGHT CLOSE. Floor lights sequence above the door, heading for underground parking. "5 - 4 - 3..." The Captain watches the lights. Erin is slumped face first against the side of the elevator opposite him. CAPTAIN You brought him back. Good. He owes you. We'll stick together, you and I. ON ERIN face pressed against the elevator wall, intent. CAPTAIN (CONT'D) Seen but not heard. They ought to make it a law. Erin winces, looks down... THE BLADE emerging from her sleeve as she tries to hold it with her two bound hands. DING. The elevator jerks to a stop. THE CAPTAIN grabs her off the floor and she RAMS the blade into his abdomen with the force of the entire body. Twists it. The elevator doors open. ERIN pulls out the blade, claws her way out the door, the Captain hanging on to her, finally getting free as she swipes at him again, drawing fresh blood. Running now, into... INT. POLICE STATION - PARKING GARAGE - NIGHT Erin stumbles between cars in the dark underground garage, cutting the cord off her hands, leaving it behind as... ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- 80. Behind her, the Captain unsteady on his feet, a wounded animal. He pulls out a GLOCK 9MM and KA-CHUNK. Cycles it. Erin dives between cars, scrambling on hands and knees. Looks around. HER POV - SCANNING a small garage with a few police cruisers by a SERVICE AREA and no people. A barred GATE over the exit. No way out. ERIN winces. Then stifles a cry as she cuts the stitches off her mouth with the knife. Drops the threads on the floor and moves off... CUT TO: INT. POLICE STATION - CAPTAIN'S OFFICE - NIGHT Alex runs past the glass AWARDS CASE, takes a flying leap behind the desk, seeking cover as Madden empties a clip at him. The slide ratchets back. Madden SLAMS another clip in, advances on Alex, hidden behind the shredded desk as... THE SECRETARY clears stuffed birds off the table trying to expose the wounded crow cowering back against the wall. SECRETARY Here pretty bird. Here birdy. WHOP! She grabs it, the Crow flapping desperately as... IN THE CAPTAIN'S OFFICE Madden creeps up on the desk, peers over it. Nothing. Out of nowhere... WAM! Alex rushes Madden, bulldozing him across the room with a pained cry of brute force toward... THE AWARDS CASE CRASH! Glass shatters as Alex hurls Madden, who swivels around in time to get off a last shot BAM! That collapses Alex to the floor. IN THE MYSTERY ROOM The Crow squeezes out of the Secretary's grasp, leaving her holding a couple feathers. AT THE AWARD'S CASE Alex hauls himself off the floor as the Crow joins him. Seeing... MADDEN'S HEAD has taken its place among glass bowls and trophies, half decapitated by the glass shelf it now rests on. Down the shelf from the stuffed bird. ALEX rushes through the blown out window into... Seeing for the first time that Erin is gone, the rope hanging from the ceiling, finding... THE SECRETARY ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- 81. SECRETARY (CONT'D) sitting on the floor, painting her own toenails BLUE, leaning up against the wall. ALEX Where'd they go? Alex eases the Secretary to her feet with a hand around her neck, her back to the wall. She looks UP, smiling at... WALSH - RIGHT ARM MISSING hangs high overhead from some kind of hook. His arm has been crudely removed. Underneath him, on the table, a BOX of 2" surgical stainless steel rods sits by a pool of blood. ALEX yells, reeling, as... The door flies open. A half dozen cops in, all targeting Alex as... THE SECRETARY plunges the Lauren KNIFE in Alex's back. He spins violently THROWING her HARD against the wall. WAM! Surprise!-she sticks. REVEAL, she's impaled on ANTELOPE ANTLERS, hanging off the wall. Her head drops, looking down as a stream of blood flows down her legs, drips off her toes... SECRETARY (dying words) My nails. BAM BAM BAM. The new arrivals open fire. Alex reaches over his shoulder, yanks out the knife with an odd slurping sound as... CUT TO: INT. POLICE STATION - PARKING GARAGE The sound of GUNFIRE filters down from above as the Captain hunts his hidden prey. He stops, studies... ERIN'S POV - LOW ANGLE LOOKING UNDER A CAR The Captain's feet, joined by his hand as he picks up the thread she left on the ground. INCLUDE ERIN SECRETARY reproving herself as she turns toward camera. She looks back under the car, but... The Captain's feet have moved off. Where? She listens, hears nothing. Slips off... NEW ANGLE - ERIN takes refuge in the service area, crouching behind stacks of TIRES. Knife at the ready. ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- 82. The Captain's FOOTSTEPS audible. HER OBSTRUCTED POV between stacks of tires, the Captain, Glock at ready, PASSES BY, moving out of sight. Footsteps RECEDING. Then silent. ERIN Listening, neurons firing. Cranes her neck to see. Nothing. WIDER the Captain appears BEHIND ERIN, over the stacks of tires. She's oblivious, then... Erin wheels, slashes across his wrist. The Glock falls, Erin grabs it, levels it at the Captain. Her finger tense on the trigger. CAPTAIN (re: gun) I know you too well. You won't do it. ERIN You don't know me at all. BAM! She pulls the trigger, simultaneously wrenching the gun, aiming just enough off that... THE CAPTAIN yells in pain, rushes his hand to his ear, a bloody mess. He starts advancing again toward her and Erin pulls... THE TRIGGER again, again, again.

great

How many times the word 'great' appears in the text?

Alex starts off... BAM! He's blown back by a shot half lost in the noisy club. No panic yet. ONSTAGE the strippers break character, looking. The audience turns as... ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- 63. NEAR THE ENTRANCE The First Bouncer goes flying above the heads of the crowd, getting off a dramatic SHOT while airborne, inducing... PANDEMONIUM Patrons stampeding as BAM BAM! Alex taking bullets, the miracle lost in the chaotic exit. The Bouncers out of sight underfoot. ON ALEX visible again, back on his feet. Buffeted, stationary as everyone flees. With the exodus still at flood stage... CUT TO: INT. WALSH'S OFFICE - NIGHT ON WALSH, in motion as he puts on a jacket, throws some papers into a briefcase. He's nervous, ill-suited for this cloak and dagger stuff, chattering... WALSH We'll be safe in my car. Nobody will recognize it. Let's move yours in back, no, down the block. Hope it's nothing fancy. There's a chop shop around the corner. She's looking elsewhere, at the door that has quietly opened. The Captain stands there. Somber reptile. Holding a sheaf of papers in one hand. ERIN You followed me here. CAPTAIN No... Erin, I put out a bulletin on your car because... there's bad news. And I thought you should hear it from me. She stares at him expressionless. CAPTAIN (CONT'D) Your father got involved with some bad cops. On my force, so I take responsibility. (beat, then) He killed himself. She talks with great difficulty. ERIN How? CAPTAIN How did he kill himself? She nods. ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- 64. CAPTAIN (CONT'D) With a gun. Is that what you mean? ERIN No. I mean... how did he kill himself How do you figure he killed himself--with a gun, right--when it wasn't anywhere near where you found him? He takes a step toward her. She pulls out the Blood Pistol. Seems crazy enough to use it. ERIN (CONT'D) You killed him. WALSH Erin. Don't. ERIN Back the fuck off! Now! The Captain stops, gently tosses the sheaf of papers toward her, onto Walsh's desk. The papers Nathan was preparing. Walsh looks at them while... CAPTAIN He left this. Names, addresses, a note to you. These people he was involved with killed Lauren. He couldn't bear it anymore. WALSH My God. He's right, it's all here. ERIN The note. Show it to me. Erin has one eye on the papers now, recognizes her dad's hand. The Captain inches forward. ERIN (CONT'D) (to Captain) Not you! (to Walsh) Show it to me. The Captain steps forward, right to the desk. Erin backed into a corner now. CAPTAIN It's right there, under that paper. (grabs a note) Here. Look. She holds a hand out for the note, taking her eye off the situation for one second as she reads... ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- 65. THE NOTE A bunch of numbers added together in her father's hand. Not a suicide note. THE CAPTAIN grabs Erin's wrist and BAM! A chunk of the ceiling falls as the weapon discharges. The Captain throws her in a chokehold, her finger still on the trigger. CAPTAIN (CONT'D) You were always the stupid one. She fights as the Captain wraps his own hand over hers, wrestles her arm toward Walsh, in the sights now. BAM! WALSH blown backward, collapsing by the Chess Board. Trying to pull himself up. Erin struggling. As... MADDEN enters from the hall, in a hurry, gun drawn. MADDEN You need help? He nods toward Walsh, who is moving, barely. CAPTAIN Hurry. We don't have much time. BAM. A shot from Madden drops Walsh for god. As Madden drags Walsh toward the door, the Captain grabs... THE PICTURE OF ALEX AND LAUREN pulled off the lid of the Chess box, one of the pieces of tape left behind. The Captain exits. CUT TO: INT. "THE HOLE" - NIGHT MUSIC STILL POUNDS, lights swirl. But the club has cleared out, leaving human detritus, a handful of casualties from the stampede. WITH ALEX as he steps over the Two Bouncers, expired on the floor. A soft WHIMPERING marks the silence. The girl cuffed onstage. Alex goes up to the terrified girl. Close up, she looks way underage. He gathers her clothes, spots a key on the floor. ALEX How old are you? She listens as he unlocks the cuffs. ALEX (CONT'D) You have one chance to value your life. Take it. ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- 66. He watches as she hightails it out the front door, still half naked. As she leaves... THE CROW appears in the doorway near the broken bodies. Alex takes a deep breath, as if it hurts. The casualties. CAW. The Crow flies on, disappearing into the back rooms. Alex turns, follows... INT. "THE HOLE" - BACKSTAGE - NIGHT Alex moves past the empty makeup table. A lipstick cigarette smolders in an ashtray. People left in a hurry. MUSIC LOUD, as if inside our heads now. Alex continues... INT. "THE HOLE" - INTERNET PORN FACILITY Nobody home. Empty images refreshed every six seconds. Number of hits static now. Alex drawn now by the "No Admittance" Curtain which he approaches slowly, touching it and FLASH! ALEX'S INTERNAL POV - LAUREN looking over her shoulder, pulling back the "No Admittance" Curtain, going where she shouldn't go. ALEX Lauren? You were here? Lauren makes her stealthy way into.... INT. "THE HOLE" - BACK HALL - NIGHT revealed as Alex slips past the Curtain, retracing Lauren's footsteps. CAMERA FOLLOWS Alex CREEPING down the hall to... ALEX'S INTERNAL POV - LAUREN down the hall, peering inside the partially open Back Room door, then turning back startled TOWARD CAMERA as if suddenly overtaken. AT THE DOOR Alex turns back, like Lauren, looks behind him. The hallway is empty. He enters... INT. "THE HOLE" - BACK ROOM - NIGHT Darkness. As Alex gropes for a lightswitch, a LIGHTER FLARES. Toomey and Larkin lean in, light up in synch. Alex takes in the dark fringes, dim reflections off lots of eyes. Not taxidermy specimens. BAM BAM BAM BAM. A dozen police officers lining the walls empty cartridges into Alex in an angry, STROBING fusillade. In the silence that follows... LARKIN (after the fact) Don't move. ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- 67. The gang LAUGHS. Larkin makes his way to a light switch by the door. LARKIN (CONT'D) Drinks are on me. Larkin flips on the low-watt BARE BULBS hanging down past industrial pipes and conduit, casting a dim light on the cinderblock space. NO ALEX. ALEX Cheers. They look up and... BAM! Alex DROPS LARKIN with a shot to the forehead. BAM! He MISSES TOOMEY as bullets from below EXPLODE all around him. Alex scampers across framing as... The BARE BULBS burst, all but one, plunging us back in to near darkness as Alex drops to the ground near Larkin's fallen body. Jacks up the sleeve. No scar. Alex spots Toomey, rolls out as... THREE COPS pump rounds into Alex. BAM! Alex takes the middle Cop out, a TOONEY-LIKE GUY who falls onto Toomey, behind him. ALEX turns, forced to defend himself as FULL AUTO FIRE breaks open, the other flank, more advancing cops. While... TOOMEY crawls out from under the fallen copy, then backs out the door on hands and knees while... A FINAL EXPLOSIVE FUSILLADE leaves only Alex standing. As the echoes dissolve... Alex Alex moves to where Toomey was, bends down to check the body... THE NAMEPLATE - "TOOMEY" But the pin isn't fastened properly. The badge askew. RESUME - ALEX rolls the body over, finds another nameplate underneath. "Hauser." Heads off in search of... ALEX (CONT'D) Toomey! INT - "THE HOLE" - INTERNET PORN FACILITY - NIGHT Toomey is clearing the "No Admittance" curtain when... ALEX You dripped something! Toomey panics as he approaches... ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- 68. INTERNET FANTASY SETS Monitors still updating every six seconds. Toomey hears Alex coming, slips through the "Dungeon." BEHIND THE SHOWER FANTASY SET Toomey takes refuge out of sight, next to a GAS HOT WATER HEATER, quiet as a mouse. ALEX tears the "No Admittance" curtain completely off its rod, arriving at the fantasy sets just in time to see... THE DUNGEON MONITOR Toomey (frozen) scurrying through. Gone now as the monitor updates. Then Alex appears, following him through the set... WITH ALEX moving to the rear of the "dungeon," on Toomey's heels. WAM. Toomey hits him full force with A PIPE, sending Alex sprawling backward, COLLAPSING the flimsy Shower set. WAM. Toomey swings again, misses Alex, but connects with... THE GAS LINE to the water heater ripped out by the blow. HISS. The sound of gas, loud, as the line breaks. RESUME Alex straddles Toomey, just as Toomey manages to get his gun pointed in Alex's face. Hissing gas nearby. CLICK. Toomey cocks the gun. ALEX (CONT'D) Spark, gas... bad combination. And it's not this leak here, that's the least of your worries. WAM! Alex swings Toomey's pipe HARD at a much bigger GAS LINE right behind the gas heater, leaving it badly cracked. The hiss magnified 100% nos. ALEX (CONT'D) We're going to play a little game called "Who's got the Scar." TOOMEY What Scar? What fucking scar? ALEX (buzzer sound) AAAANK. That's not how we play the game. Alex jacks Toomey's sleeve down. No Scar. Alex pissed as Toomey locks eyes with him. Really seeing him now. TOOMEY You're him! You're Corvis! We fried your ass. You're dead, man! ALEX Good thing in a situation like this. We pick up... ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- 69. INT. "THE HOLE" - BACK ROOM - NIGHT Some light filters in as a door opens to the outside. A FIGURE enters, squats among the bodies. He leans in, closes larkin's eyes, and we see... It's Madden. Blood on his hands. He hears Alex's VOICE faintly, then Toomey cries out in pain. Madden moves toward... INT. "THE HOLE" - INTERNET PORN FACILITY - NIGHT Madden creeps down the hallway to the back room. VOICES growing louder. TOOMEY Fucking Zombie. ALEX The scar. TOOMEY There is no scar. I'm telling you. As Madden moves toward the conversation, his face registers the slightest of smiles. MADDEN'S CREEPING POV MONITORS obliquely visible as he reaches the end of the hall by the Fantasy sets. The "Shower" monitor shows Alex and Toomey, visible through the trashed set, updated every six seconds. MADDEN SNIFFS gas. The HISS now audible along with Alex's voice. Madden smiles. Pulls out his 9mm. And BACKS UP, away from the Fantasy Sets toward the back room. Madden takes aim at... THE FIRST MONITOR The images is Alex threatening Toomey. Updating now--LOSING ALEX on the Monitor as he steps into frame in person, looks up and BAM! CROWVISION a speeding bullet passes narrowly by and... ANGLE - GROUND ZERO as the bullet hits the monitor in a shower of sparks, followed by... BOOM! A ROILING FIREBALL Seems to vaporize Alex before flying down the hallway right at CAMERA. Madden manages a couple steps in retreat before it blows him into the back room with a deafening roar. EXT. "THE HOLE" - INFERNO - NIGHT BOOM! Windows blow out in a gas fired inferno. A body flung out the rear door. BOOM! ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- 70. EXT. "THE HOLE" - NIGHT Interior/exterior being less meaningful than seconds ago. Walls crumbled, roof blown off. BRIGHT FIRE consumes the frame, consumes the bodies of downed cops, consumes every last bit of oxygen and life. Distant SIRENS draw closer. A SLOW SCAN, someone's OBSTRUCTED POV of Hell. INCLUDE ALEX watching from under a collapsed cinderblock wall that offers some protection from the flames, if not the heat. He looks, intent now, spotting... THE ARM WITH THE ZIGZAG SCARIFICATION sticking out of the rubble, murky through the flames, growing clearer as camera PUSHES, flames licking at it... ALEX tries to move toward the arm. Forced back by too- intense flame as another beam falls, the rubble shifts and... THE ARM WITH THE ZIGZAG SCARIFICATION skeletal now, baked down to bones. A dozen short metal rods on the ground under it. He picks a few up. THE CAPTAIN drawn now to... UNDER THE RUBBLE - WHERE ALEX WAS water dripping off the concrete, collecting in the place where Alex hid. But he's long gone. The Captain drops the rods. Satisfied it's over. CUT TO: EXT. CITY STREET #5 - NIGHT Alex staggers along in bad shape. Up ahead... A GIRL in her twenties exits a building down a flight of stairs, waits at the bottom for her BOYFRIEND, who's locking the door. She sees Alex, gives him an empathetic look. Alex walks slowly closer. ALEX'S INTERNAL POV Lauren appearing to him, playing their game. But the words are wrong, distorted. LAUREN Your witness list is no match for my kung fu. Her Bruce Lee "Oooo" a siren call. RESUME Alex moving slowly forward on the street, drawn toward the girl who watches with horrified fascination. ALEX I'm losing you. ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- 71. ALEX'S INTERNAL POV LAUREN Your zigzag love scar is no match for... Lauren and Alex drawing very close now when... RESUME WAM. A FIST clocks Alex in the face, dropping him hard onto the pavement. GIRL Did you have to do that? BOYFRIEND How about "thank you." GIRL He's bleeding. ALEX I don't bleed. BOYFRIEND And delirious. Better steer clear. ALEX'S POV The Guy wraps his arm protectively around the girl, walks her off. Running into a COP at the next intersection. They POINT at... ALEX takes off, ducking into an alley. Confused. CAMERA CREEPS BACKWARD as he gathers his thoughts. CUT TO: INT. WALSH'S OFFICE - NIGHT RATTLE RATTLE. Alex's shadow visible through the frosted glass, jostling the locked door. ALEX Erin! SMASH. His arm PUNCHES through the glass, turn the knob. Alex enters, arm bleeding badly. He yanks a large piece of glass from his flesh. Painful. Alex registers that the rules have changed. He finds a necktie of Walsh's, uses it to bind the wound, staunch the flow. He scans the room again looking for... Something. But everything seems ok. He passes... The Chess Box, the picture of Lauren and Alex gone. Just a piece of TAPE left, sticking to the top of the open lid. ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- 72. OVER THE CHESS BOARD - ALEX the missing pic lost on him, drawn to the chess board where Walsh collapsed. Something wrong with the game. He finds... THE BLACK KING Off the board. On top of a stack of news clippings lying on the floor. Alex picks it up, LEAVING a RING OF BLOOD under. CAMERA PUSHES on the clipping underneath, the headline "City Leaders Vow Crackdown in Wake of Randall Murder." PUSHING, finding among the City Leaders... ALEX (CONT'D) The King. THE CAPTAIN'S FACE circled in blood. Camera continues to PUSH on the grainy newsprint, through it, until all we see are halftone pixels and the picture loses meaning. EXT. CITY - AIRBORNE - NIGHT The Police Station in sinister CROWVISION as we approach, swoop in and... INT. POLICE STATION - HALLWAY Alex walks the long approach to the Captain's office, past the empty Secretary's desk. KICKING the door open CRASH! into... INT. POLICE STATION - CAPTAIN'S OFFICE The Captain works alone at his desk under a standing lamp. Looks up unconcerned as Alex enters, walks to the desk, and SLAPS down the ring-of-blood clipping. CAPTAIN I hate that picture. ALEX Where are they? CAPTAIN Can I get you something? A glass of water? A transfusion? ALEX Where are they? Last chance. CAPTAIN Or what? You'll bleed all over my carpet? The Captain rises. CAPTAIN (CONT'D) You know crime was actually down until you showed up, or stuck (MORE) ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- 73. CAPTAIN (CONT'D) around, or whatever the hell you're doing here. (then) What are you doing here? ALEX I'm looking for my friends. CAPTAIN See, I heard you were looking for some guy with a scar. How's that going? You find him? Yes? No? Alex tenses as the Captain starts toward him. CAPTAIN (CONT'D) You are like the guest who would not leave, you know that? And judging from your condition, maybe you've overstayed your welcome. That's not a criticism. Just an observation. Alex draws the knife from his clothes. CAPTAIN (CONT'D) I don't think you're going to use it. That's Lauren's knife. Enraged, Alex SWIPES the knife. The Captain grabs his arm right at the blood soaked necktie, squeezes hard. Alex writhes in pain. In each other's faces now. CAPTAIN (CONT'D) You come in here al lfull of righteous indignation, but what have you got to be righteous about? THE KNIFE starting to fall from Alex's hand as the Captain continues to clamp down on his wound. CAPTAIN (CONT'D) How many innocent people did you leave dead back there? ALEX You sent them. I had no choice. CAPTAIN Bullshit. You're a killer, that's all you are. A clown with a bird and a rising death toll. You think the world did you wrong?! You did the world wrong. The Captain snatches the knife, RAMS it into Alex's midriff. ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- 74. CAPTAIN (CONT'D) You and Lauren had a fight. You couldn't let it go. FLASH EXT. OLD GROWTH GROVE - DAY ALEX'S INTERNAL POV Lauren in tears in Alex's car. LAUREN I can't say. ALEX He grabs for her. She pulls violently away. LAUREN Don't touch me! RESUME INT. POLICE STATION - CAPTAIN'S OFFICE - NIGHT WHOOMP. Another stab into Alex. There will be fifty three. CAPTAIN It was one thing her dad rejected you. But when she did you lost it. ALEX You're wrong. CAPTAIN Yeah? I see doubt oozing out your arm. Where do people go when they kill their girlfriends? FLASH ALEX'S INTERNAL POV Alex back at the inferno, cowering from flames. RESUME The Captain full of righteous conviction. CAPTAIN (CONT'D) Screwed up kid stabs her fifty three times. Where would he end up? The Captain bent over Alex, stabbing him. ALEX'S INTERNAL POV (INTERCUT WITH PREVIOUS) FLASHES move us backward along the path we've taken so far, a tour of hell on earth, the blast of infernal winds and the ever-present voice of the Captain, condemning. CAPTAIN'S VOICE Take a look! Strippers writhe at "The Hole." ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- 75. CAPTAIN'S VOICE (CONT'D) That's who you are! The Porsche explodes. CAPTAIN'S VOICE (CONT'D) You sick fuck! Look at it! Alex blasts Dutton. BAM! CAPTAIN'S VOICE (CONT'D) Every loser name anyone ever called you was true! Alex escapes the taser. Mercer drops. CAPTAIN'S VOICE (CONT'D) Are you looking? Answer me! Time SCREECHING to a halt, all the movement converging on a single, quiet image. One we've seen before... Alex in the chair. But his last words are different. ALEX I loved Lauren. I never meant to hurt her. ZAP. Electro-spasm as the switch is thrown. No scar, no meltdown, just violent fibrillations that moderate, finally as we MATCH TO... RESUME - THE CAPTAIN'S OFFICE The Captain shaking Alex, holding something in front of Alex's face. CAPTAIN You see it? Huh? Did you see it? Alex's eye's gone dead, no longer seeing... THE PHOTO - LAUREN AND ALEX IN THE WOODS arms around each other. Familiar, but on second take, it's like the crime scene photos... Lauren's NECK is SLASHED, her body riddled with stab wounds. Alex has a big smile on his face, his arm around her, her head on his shoulder. 100% sociopath. RESUME CAPTAIN (CONT'D) Yeah. I think you fucking saw it. The Captain drops Alex lifeless and bloody to the floor. Only the sound of the Captain panting now, then... The sound of slow clapping. Madden walks into the room from behind perimeter curtains. CLAP CLAP CLAP. ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- 76. MADDEN You were right. Picture's worth a thousand words. Madden kicks Alex lightly, nudging him. No life signes. The Captain rips the picture in two. Tosses it in the trash. CAPTAIN Just don't believe everything you see. MADDEN Doubt is a motherfucker. CAPTAIN Give me a hand with this sack of shit. INT. MYSTERY ROOM - NIGHT NEW ANGLE - THROUGH A WINDOW DARKLY Madden and the Captain grab Alex, one at each end. SECRETARY He's cute. Was cute. REVEAL, this is the Secretary's POV through the window. She's bent over someone's toes, painting them BLUE. WIDE. The Mystery Room revealed. Taxidermy specimens line the wall and the table. Erin stands in PROFILE in the middle of the room, strangely silent, hands tied overhead by a rope that runs to the ceiling. The Secretary brushing polish on Erin's toes. SECRETARY (CONT'D) But the face, well, makeup can work for you or against you. Right? The Secretary applies a last flourish of polish, then stands, kisses Erin gently. SECRETARY (CONT'D) All done. Very nice. (then) You're a good listener. The Secretary moves off REVEALING... ERIN'S FACE MOUTH SEWN shut in a rough zigzag stitch, like the scar. Her eyes dart as... THE DOOR opens. The Captain and Madden carry Alex in. Madden sweeps the TAXIDERMY SPECIMENS back with his hand, clearing a space for Alex on the table. Among them... ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- 77. THE CROW on its Corvus Brachyrhynchos stand takes a small hop backward, this sign of life unnoticed as... RESUME WHUMP. Alex heaved onto the table. MADDEN So was he dead? Or alive? The Secretary puts her ear to Alex's lifeless lips. CAPTAIN I've seen birds stuffed and mounted so lifelike you'd swear you saw them breathing. This reminds him... he looks at the Crow on the stand. Lifeless, stuffed. As it should be. CAPTAIN (CONT'D) Maybe we had a case of that here. (to Secretary) Get me my kit. MADDEN You two are majorly demented. Anyone ever tell you that? The Secretary steps off to grab thekit, leaving Alex's lifeless open eyes pointing toward Erin, reflected in his eyeballs first before... ANGLE - ERIN looking up at her own hands, bound above her as she eases them apart and... The HEART SHAPED LOCKET slips from between her palms and she closes them again in time to catch the chain, the locket swinging. ON THE TABLE X-CLOSE. The locket reflected in Alex's lifeless open eyes a second before... The Secretary returns, blocking the sightline. Lays out the Kit, nasty looking tools left over from the Inquisition. Then unbuttons Alex's tattered shirt, undressing him for the procedure. Stab wounds everywhere. SECRETARY Fifty three? CAPTAIN In all the excitement I kind of lost count. (then) I think I'll mount him with his head up his ass. A large KNIFE, the Lauren murder weapon, angles in at the base of Alex'sneck where the Secretary's head was. ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- 78. THE CROW - OVERCRANKED moves on the table. Takes flight. THE TRIO turn toward the commotion. CAPTAIN (CONT'D) Grab it! THE LOCKET - OVERCRANKED Snatched in midair by the Crow from Erin's praying hands. FLASH! ALEX/CROW'S INTERNAL POV HIGH ANGLE CROWVISION. Dim memories from the woods. Anamorphic and dark. Two figures--Alex and Erin--kneeling. RESUME - THE LOCKET released from the Crow's beak, passing through the TRIO'S HANDS uncaught, bouncing off Alex onto the table, in front of his open eyes. ALEX/CROW'S INTERNAL POV FLASH. AT GROUND LEVEL. Alex fastens the LOCKET around her neck. The distortion lessening, becoming Alex's POV. ALEX ... it connects you to me... FLASH. ERIN No matter what happens... you're innocent... I promise... FLASH. Alex painting her face. RESUME Alex BLINKS. The Captain reacts--oh shit--starts to bring the knife down, a hurried strike at Alex's chest. WAM! Alex grabs the Captain's arm in his hand, stopping the movement on a dime. ALEX All lies. Everything you ever showed me. MADDEN pulls a gun, points it at Erin. ALEX jumps up, flying INTO the gun as it goes off. CRASH! They tumble THROUGH THE WINDOW into the Captain's office while... THE CAPTAIN cuts down the rope holding Erin. She collapses... ON THE TABLE strewn with blades, secreting one between her hands, in the second before... THE CAPTAIN drags Erin off. The Secretary flails at the Crow with a metal ROD, while... IN THE CAPTAIN'S OFFICE Madden has the gun on Alex now. BAM! No effect. BAM! ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- 79. Madden sweating it now, continuing to shoot with no effect as... THE MYSTERY ROOM The Secretary finally connects with the Crow, batting it against the wall, noticing this coincides with... Alex goes flying against the desk, winged himself. Madden c Onfused, not understanding. SECRETARY (O.S.) It's the bird! Kill it! Madden wheels, points the gun through the busted-out picture window into... The SECRETARY dives for cover as bullets explode around her. The Crow dancing, sprayed with debris. CUT TO: INT. POLICE STATION - ELEVATOR - NIGHT CLOSE. Floor lights sequence above the door, heading for underground parking. "5 - 4 - 3..." The Captain watches the lights. Erin is slumped face first against the side of the elevator opposite him. CAPTAIN You brought him back. Good. He owes you. We'll stick together, you and I. ON ERIN face pressed against the elevator wall, intent. CAPTAIN (CONT'D) Seen but not heard. They ought to make it a law. Erin winces, looks down... THE BLADE emerging from her sleeve as she tries to hold it with her two bound hands. DING. The elevator jerks to a stop. THE CAPTAIN grabs her off the floor and she RAMS the blade into his abdomen with the force of the entire body. Twists it. The elevator doors open. ERIN pulls out the blade, claws her way out the door, the Captain hanging on to her, finally getting free as she swipes at him again, drawing fresh blood. Running now, into... INT. POLICE STATION - PARKING GARAGE - NIGHT Erin stumbles between cars in the dark underground garage, cutting the cord off her hands, leaving it behind as... ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- 80. Behind her, the Captain unsteady on his feet, a wounded animal. He pulls out a GLOCK 9MM and KA-CHUNK. Cycles it. Erin dives between cars, scrambling on hands and knees. Looks around. HER POV - SCANNING a small garage with a few police cruisers by a SERVICE AREA and no people. A barred GATE over the exit. No way out. ERIN winces. Then stifles a cry as she cuts the stitches off her mouth with the knife. Drops the threads on the floor and moves off... CUT TO: INT. POLICE STATION - CAPTAIN'S OFFICE - NIGHT Alex runs past the glass AWARDS CASE, takes a flying leap behind the desk, seeking cover as Madden empties a clip at him. The slide ratchets back. Madden SLAMS another clip in, advances on Alex, hidden behind the shredded desk as... THE SECRETARY clears stuffed birds off the table trying to expose the wounded crow cowering back against the wall. SECRETARY Here pretty bird. Here birdy. WHOP! She grabs it, the Crow flapping desperately as... IN THE CAPTAIN'S OFFICE Madden creeps up on the desk, peers over it. Nothing. Out of nowhere... WAM! Alex rushes Madden, bulldozing him across the room with a pained cry of brute force toward... THE AWARDS CASE CRASH! Glass shatters as Alex hurls Madden, who swivels around in time to get off a last shot BAM! That collapses Alex to the floor. IN THE MYSTERY ROOM The Crow squeezes out of the Secretary's grasp, leaving her holding a couple feathers. AT THE AWARD'S CASE Alex hauls himself off the floor as the Crow joins him. Seeing... MADDEN'S HEAD has taken its place among glass bowls and trophies, half decapitated by the glass shelf it now rests on. Down the shelf from the stuffed bird. ALEX rushes through the blown out window into... Seeing for the first time that Erin is gone, the rope hanging from the ceiling, finding... THE SECRETARY ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- 81. SECRETARY (CONT'D) sitting on the floor, painting her own toenails BLUE, leaning up against the wall. ALEX Where'd they go? Alex eases the Secretary to her feet with a hand around her neck, her back to the wall. She looks UP, smiling at... WALSH - RIGHT ARM MISSING hangs high overhead from some kind of hook. His arm has been crudely removed. Underneath him, on the table, a BOX of 2" surgical stainless steel rods sits by a pool of blood. ALEX yells, reeling, as... The door flies open. A half dozen cops in, all targeting Alex as... THE SECRETARY plunges the Lauren KNIFE in Alex's back. He spins violently THROWING her HARD against the wall. WAM! Surprise!-she sticks. REVEAL, she's impaled on ANTELOPE ANTLERS, hanging off the wall. Her head drops, looking down as a stream of blood flows down her legs, drips off her toes... SECRETARY (dying words) My nails. BAM BAM BAM. The new arrivals open fire. Alex reaches over his shoulder, yanks out the knife with an odd slurping sound as... CUT TO: INT. POLICE STATION - PARKING GARAGE The sound of GUNFIRE filters down from above as the Captain hunts his hidden prey. He stops, studies... ERIN'S POV - LOW ANGLE LOOKING UNDER A CAR The Captain's feet, joined by his hand as he picks up the thread she left on the ground. INCLUDE ERIN SECRETARY reproving herself as she turns toward camera. She looks back under the car, but... The Captain's feet have moved off. Where? She listens, hears nothing. Slips off... NEW ANGLE - ERIN takes refuge in the service area, crouching behind stacks of TIRES. Knife at the ready. ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- 82. The Captain's FOOTSTEPS audible. HER OBSTRUCTED POV between stacks of tires, the Captain, Glock at ready, PASSES BY, moving out of sight. Footsteps RECEDING. Then silent. ERIN Listening, neurons firing. Cranes her neck to see. Nothing. WIDER the Captain appears BEHIND ERIN, over the stacks of tires. She's oblivious, then... Erin wheels, slashes across his wrist. The Glock falls, Erin grabs it, levels it at the Captain. Her finger tense on the trigger. CAPTAIN (re: gun) I know you too well. You won't do it. ERIN You don't know me at all. BAM! She pulls the trigger, simultaneously wrenching the gun, aiming just enough off that... THE CAPTAIN yells in pain, rushes his hand to his ear, a bloody mess. He starts advancing again toward her and Erin pulls... THE TRIGGER again, again, again.

pulled

How many times the word 'pulled' appears in the text?

Alex starts off... BAM! He's blown back by a shot half lost in the noisy club. No panic yet. ONSTAGE the strippers break character, looking. The audience turns as... ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- 63. NEAR THE ENTRANCE The First Bouncer goes flying above the heads of the crowd, getting off a dramatic SHOT while airborne, inducing... PANDEMONIUM Patrons stampeding as BAM BAM! Alex taking bullets, the miracle lost in the chaotic exit. The Bouncers out of sight underfoot. ON ALEX visible again, back on his feet. Buffeted, stationary as everyone flees. With the exodus still at flood stage... CUT TO: INT. WALSH'S OFFICE - NIGHT ON WALSH, in motion as he puts on a jacket, throws some papers into a briefcase. He's nervous, ill-suited for this cloak and dagger stuff, chattering... WALSH We'll be safe in my car. Nobody will recognize it. Let's move yours in back, no, down the block. Hope it's nothing fancy. There's a chop shop around the corner. She's looking elsewhere, at the door that has quietly opened. The Captain stands there. Somber reptile. Holding a sheaf of papers in one hand. ERIN You followed me here. CAPTAIN No... Erin, I put out a bulletin on your car because... there's bad news. And I thought you should hear it from me. She stares at him expressionless. CAPTAIN (CONT'D) Your father got involved with some bad cops. On my force, so I take responsibility. (beat, then) He killed himself. She talks with great difficulty. ERIN How? CAPTAIN How did he kill himself? She nods. ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- 64. CAPTAIN (CONT'D) With a gun. Is that what you mean? ERIN No. I mean... how did he kill himself How do you figure he killed himself--with a gun, right--when it wasn't anywhere near where you found him? He takes a step toward her. She pulls out the Blood Pistol. Seems crazy enough to use it. ERIN (CONT'D) You killed him. WALSH Erin. Don't. ERIN Back the fuck off! Now! The Captain stops, gently tosses the sheaf of papers toward her, onto Walsh's desk. The papers Nathan was preparing. Walsh looks at them while... CAPTAIN He left this. Names, addresses, a note to you. These people he was involved with killed Lauren. He couldn't bear it anymore. WALSH My God. He's right, it's all here. ERIN The note. Show it to me. Erin has one eye on the papers now, recognizes her dad's hand. The Captain inches forward. ERIN (CONT'D) (to Captain) Not you! (to Walsh) Show it to me. The Captain steps forward, right to the desk. Erin backed into a corner now. CAPTAIN It's right there, under that paper. (grabs a note) Here. Look. She holds a hand out for the note, taking her eye off the situation for one second as she reads... ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- 65. THE NOTE A bunch of numbers added together in her father's hand. Not a suicide note. THE CAPTAIN grabs Erin's wrist and BAM! A chunk of the ceiling falls as the weapon discharges. The Captain throws her in a chokehold, her finger still on the trigger. CAPTAIN (CONT'D) You were always the stupid one. She fights as the Captain wraps his own hand over hers, wrestles her arm toward Walsh, in the sights now. BAM! WALSH blown backward, collapsing by the Chess Board. Trying to pull himself up. Erin struggling. As... MADDEN enters from the hall, in a hurry, gun drawn. MADDEN You need help? He nods toward Walsh, who is moving, barely. CAPTAIN Hurry. We don't have much time. BAM. A shot from Madden drops Walsh for god. As Madden drags Walsh toward the door, the Captain grabs... THE PICTURE OF ALEX AND LAUREN pulled off the lid of the Chess box, one of the pieces of tape left behind. The Captain exits. CUT TO: INT. "THE HOLE" - NIGHT MUSIC STILL POUNDS, lights swirl. But the club has cleared out, leaving human detritus, a handful of casualties from the stampede. WITH ALEX as he steps over the Two Bouncers, expired on the floor. A soft WHIMPERING marks the silence. The girl cuffed onstage. Alex goes up to the terrified girl. Close up, she looks way underage. He gathers her clothes, spots a key on the floor. ALEX How old are you? She listens as he unlocks the cuffs. ALEX (CONT'D) You have one chance to value your life. Take it. ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- 66. He watches as she hightails it out the front door, still half naked. As she leaves... THE CROW appears in the doorway near the broken bodies. Alex takes a deep breath, as if it hurts. The casualties. CAW. The Crow flies on, disappearing into the back rooms. Alex turns, follows... INT. "THE HOLE" - BACKSTAGE - NIGHT Alex moves past the empty makeup table. A lipstick cigarette smolders in an ashtray. People left in a hurry. MUSIC LOUD, as if inside our heads now. Alex continues... INT. "THE HOLE" - INTERNET PORN FACILITY Nobody home. Empty images refreshed every six seconds. Number of hits static now. Alex drawn now by the "No Admittance" Curtain which he approaches slowly, touching it and FLASH! ALEX'S INTERNAL POV - LAUREN looking over her shoulder, pulling back the "No Admittance" Curtain, going where she shouldn't go. ALEX Lauren? You were here? Lauren makes her stealthy way into.... INT. "THE HOLE" - BACK HALL - NIGHT revealed as Alex slips past the Curtain, retracing Lauren's footsteps. CAMERA FOLLOWS Alex CREEPING down the hall to... ALEX'S INTERNAL POV - LAUREN down the hall, peering inside the partially open Back Room door, then turning back startled TOWARD CAMERA as if suddenly overtaken. AT THE DOOR Alex turns back, like Lauren, looks behind him. The hallway is empty. He enters... INT. "THE HOLE" - BACK ROOM - NIGHT Darkness. As Alex gropes for a lightswitch, a LIGHTER FLARES. Toomey and Larkin lean in, light up in synch. Alex takes in the dark fringes, dim reflections off lots of eyes. Not taxidermy specimens. BAM BAM BAM BAM. A dozen police officers lining the walls empty cartridges into Alex in an angry, STROBING fusillade. In the silence that follows... LARKIN (after the fact) Don't move. ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- 67. The gang LAUGHS. Larkin makes his way to a light switch by the door. LARKIN (CONT'D) Drinks are on me. Larkin flips on the low-watt BARE BULBS hanging down past industrial pipes and conduit, casting a dim light on the cinderblock space. NO ALEX. ALEX Cheers. They look up and... BAM! Alex DROPS LARKIN with a shot to the forehead. BAM! He MISSES TOOMEY as bullets from below EXPLODE all around him. Alex scampers across framing as... The BARE BULBS burst, all but one, plunging us back in to near darkness as Alex drops to the ground near Larkin's fallen body. Jacks up the sleeve. No scar. Alex spots Toomey, rolls out as... THREE COPS pump rounds into Alex. BAM! Alex takes the middle Cop out, a TOONEY-LIKE GUY who falls onto Toomey, behind him. ALEX turns, forced to defend himself as FULL AUTO FIRE breaks open, the other flank, more advancing cops. While... TOOMEY crawls out from under the fallen copy, then backs out the door on hands and knees while... A FINAL EXPLOSIVE FUSILLADE leaves only Alex standing. As the echoes dissolve... Alex Alex moves to where Toomey was, bends down to check the body... THE NAMEPLATE - "TOOMEY" But the pin isn't fastened properly. The badge askew. RESUME - ALEX rolls the body over, finds another nameplate underneath. "Hauser." Heads off in search of... ALEX (CONT'D) Toomey! INT - "THE HOLE" - INTERNET PORN FACILITY - NIGHT Toomey is clearing the "No Admittance" curtain when... ALEX You dripped something! Toomey panics as he approaches... ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- 68. INTERNET FANTASY SETS Monitors still updating every six seconds. Toomey hears Alex coming, slips through the "Dungeon." BEHIND THE SHOWER FANTASY SET Toomey takes refuge out of sight, next to a GAS HOT WATER HEATER, quiet as a mouse. ALEX tears the "No Admittance" curtain completely off its rod, arriving at the fantasy sets just in time to see... THE DUNGEON MONITOR Toomey (frozen) scurrying through. Gone now as the monitor updates. Then Alex appears, following him through the set... WITH ALEX moving to the rear of the "dungeon," on Toomey's heels. WAM. Toomey hits him full force with A PIPE, sending Alex sprawling backward, COLLAPSING the flimsy Shower set. WAM. Toomey swings again, misses Alex, but connects with... THE GAS LINE to the water heater ripped out by the blow. HISS. The sound of gas, loud, as the line breaks. RESUME Alex straddles Toomey, just as Toomey manages to get his gun pointed in Alex's face. Hissing gas nearby. CLICK. Toomey cocks the gun. ALEX (CONT'D) Spark, gas... bad combination. And it's not this leak here, that's the least of your worries. WAM! Alex swings Toomey's pipe HARD at a much bigger GAS LINE right behind the gas heater, leaving it badly cracked. The hiss magnified 100% nos. ALEX (CONT'D) We're going to play a little game called "Who's got the Scar." TOOMEY What Scar? What fucking scar? ALEX (buzzer sound) AAAANK. That's not how we play the game. Alex jacks Toomey's sleeve down. No Scar. Alex pissed as Toomey locks eyes with him. Really seeing him now. TOOMEY You're him! You're Corvis! We fried your ass. You're dead, man! ALEX Good thing in a situation like this. We pick up... ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- 69. INT. "THE HOLE" - BACK ROOM - NIGHT Some light filters in as a door opens to the outside. A FIGURE enters, squats among the bodies. He leans in, closes larkin's eyes, and we see... It's Madden. Blood on his hands. He hears Alex's VOICE faintly, then Toomey cries out in pain. Madden moves toward... INT. "THE HOLE" - INTERNET PORN FACILITY - NIGHT Madden creeps down the hallway to the back room. VOICES growing louder. TOOMEY Fucking Zombie. ALEX The scar. TOOMEY There is no scar. I'm telling you. As Madden moves toward the conversation, his face registers the slightest of smiles. MADDEN'S CREEPING POV MONITORS obliquely visible as he reaches the end of the hall by the Fantasy sets. The "Shower" monitor shows Alex and Toomey, visible through the trashed set, updated every six seconds. MADDEN SNIFFS gas. The HISS now audible along with Alex's voice. Madden smiles. Pulls out his 9mm. And BACKS UP, away from the Fantasy Sets toward the back room. Madden takes aim at... THE FIRST MONITOR The images is Alex threatening Toomey. Updating now--LOSING ALEX on the Monitor as he steps into frame in person, looks up and BAM! CROWVISION a speeding bullet passes narrowly by and... ANGLE - GROUND ZERO as the bullet hits the monitor in a shower of sparks, followed by... BOOM! A ROILING FIREBALL Seems to vaporize Alex before flying down the hallway right at CAMERA. Madden manages a couple steps in retreat before it blows him into the back room with a deafening roar. EXT. "THE HOLE" - INFERNO - NIGHT BOOM! Windows blow out in a gas fired inferno. A body flung out the rear door. BOOM! ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- 70. EXT. "THE HOLE" - NIGHT Interior/exterior being less meaningful than seconds ago. Walls crumbled, roof blown off. BRIGHT FIRE consumes the frame, consumes the bodies of downed cops, consumes every last bit of oxygen and life. Distant SIRENS draw closer. A SLOW SCAN, someone's OBSTRUCTED POV of Hell. INCLUDE ALEX watching from under a collapsed cinderblock wall that offers some protection from the flames, if not the heat. He looks, intent now, spotting... THE ARM WITH THE ZIGZAG SCARIFICATION sticking out of the rubble, murky through the flames, growing clearer as camera PUSHES, flames licking at it... ALEX tries to move toward the arm. Forced back by too- intense flame as another beam falls, the rubble shifts and... THE ARM WITH THE ZIGZAG SCARIFICATION skeletal now, baked down to bones. A dozen short metal rods on the ground under it. He picks a few up. THE CAPTAIN drawn now to... UNDER THE RUBBLE - WHERE ALEX WAS water dripping off the concrete, collecting in the place where Alex hid. But he's long gone. The Captain drops the rods. Satisfied it's over. CUT TO: EXT. CITY STREET #5 - NIGHT Alex staggers along in bad shape. Up ahead... A GIRL in her twenties exits a building down a flight of stairs, waits at the bottom for her BOYFRIEND, who's locking the door. She sees Alex, gives him an empathetic look. Alex walks slowly closer. ALEX'S INTERNAL POV Lauren appearing to him, playing their game. But the words are wrong, distorted. LAUREN Your witness list is no match for my kung fu. Her Bruce Lee "Oooo" a siren call. RESUME Alex moving slowly forward on the street, drawn toward the girl who watches with horrified fascination. ALEX I'm losing you. ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- 71. ALEX'S INTERNAL POV LAUREN Your zigzag love scar is no match for... Lauren and Alex drawing very close now when... RESUME WAM. A FIST clocks Alex in the face, dropping him hard onto the pavement. GIRL Did you have to do that? BOYFRIEND How about "thank you." GIRL He's bleeding. ALEX I don't bleed. BOYFRIEND And delirious. Better steer clear. ALEX'S POV The Guy wraps his arm protectively around the girl, walks her off. Running into a COP at the next intersection. They POINT at... ALEX takes off, ducking into an alley. Confused. CAMERA CREEPS BACKWARD as he gathers his thoughts. CUT TO: INT. WALSH'S OFFICE - NIGHT RATTLE RATTLE. Alex's shadow visible through the frosted glass, jostling the locked door. ALEX Erin! SMASH. His arm PUNCHES through the glass, turn the knob. Alex enters, arm bleeding badly. He yanks a large piece of glass from his flesh. Painful. Alex registers that the rules have changed. He finds a necktie of Walsh's, uses it to bind the wound, staunch the flow. He scans the room again looking for... Something. But everything seems ok. He passes... The Chess Box, the picture of Lauren and Alex gone. Just a piece of TAPE left, sticking to the top of the open lid. ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- 72. OVER THE CHESS BOARD - ALEX the missing pic lost on him, drawn to the chess board where Walsh collapsed. Something wrong with the game. He finds... THE BLACK KING Off the board. On top of a stack of news clippings lying on the floor. Alex picks it up, LEAVING a RING OF BLOOD under. CAMERA PUSHES on the clipping underneath, the headline "City Leaders Vow Crackdown in Wake of Randall Murder." PUSHING, finding among the City Leaders... ALEX (CONT'D) The King. THE CAPTAIN'S FACE circled in blood. Camera continues to PUSH on the grainy newsprint, through it, until all we see are halftone pixels and the picture loses meaning. EXT. CITY - AIRBORNE - NIGHT The Police Station in sinister CROWVISION as we approach, swoop in and... INT. POLICE STATION - HALLWAY Alex walks the long approach to the Captain's office, past the empty Secretary's desk. KICKING the door open CRASH! into... INT. POLICE STATION - CAPTAIN'S OFFICE The Captain works alone at his desk under a standing lamp. Looks up unconcerned as Alex enters, walks to the desk, and SLAPS down the ring-of-blood clipping. CAPTAIN I hate that picture. ALEX Where are they? CAPTAIN Can I get you something? A glass of water? A transfusion? ALEX Where are they? Last chance. CAPTAIN Or what? You'll bleed all over my carpet? The Captain rises. CAPTAIN (CONT'D) You know crime was actually down until you showed up, or stuck (MORE) ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- 73. CAPTAIN (CONT'D) around, or whatever the hell you're doing here. (then) What are you doing here? ALEX I'm looking for my friends. CAPTAIN See, I heard you were looking for some guy with a scar. How's that going? You find him? Yes? No? Alex tenses as the Captain starts toward him. CAPTAIN (CONT'D) You are like the guest who would not leave, you know that? And judging from your condition, maybe you've overstayed your welcome. That's not a criticism. Just an observation. Alex draws the knife from his clothes. CAPTAIN (CONT'D) I don't think you're going to use it. That's Lauren's knife. Enraged, Alex SWIPES the knife. The Captain grabs his arm right at the blood soaked necktie, squeezes hard. Alex writhes in pain. In each other's faces now. CAPTAIN (CONT'D) You come in here al lfull of righteous indignation, but what have you got to be righteous about? THE KNIFE starting to fall from Alex's hand as the Captain continues to clamp down on his wound. CAPTAIN (CONT'D) How many innocent people did you leave dead back there? ALEX You sent them. I had no choice. CAPTAIN Bullshit. You're a killer, that's all you are. A clown with a bird and a rising death toll. You think the world did you wrong?! You did the world wrong. The Captain snatches the knife, RAMS it into Alex's midriff. ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- 74. CAPTAIN (CONT'D) You and Lauren had a fight. You couldn't let it go. FLASH EXT. OLD GROWTH GROVE - DAY ALEX'S INTERNAL POV Lauren in tears in Alex's car. LAUREN I can't say. ALEX He grabs for her. She pulls violently away. LAUREN Don't touch me! RESUME INT. POLICE STATION - CAPTAIN'S OFFICE - NIGHT WHOOMP. Another stab into Alex. There will be fifty three. CAPTAIN It was one thing her dad rejected you. But when she did you lost it. ALEX You're wrong. CAPTAIN Yeah? I see doubt oozing out your arm. Where do people go when they kill their girlfriends? FLASH ALEX'S INTERNAL POV Alex back at the inferno, cowering from flames. RESUME The Captain full of righteous conviction. CAPTAIN (CONT'D) Screwed up kid stabs her fifty three times. Where would he end up? The Captain bent over Alex, stabbing him. ALEX'S INTERNAL POV (INTERCUT WITH PREVIOUS) FLASHES move us backward along the path we've taken so far, a tour of hell on earth, the blast of infernal winds and the ever-present voice of the Captain, condemning. CAPTAIN'S VOICE Take a look! Strippers writhe at "The Hole." ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- 75. CAPTAIN'S VOICE (CONT'D) That's who you are! The Porsche explodes. CAPTAIN'S VOICE (CONT'D) You sick fuck! Look at it! Alex blasts Dutton. BAM! CAPTAIN'S VOICE (CONT'D) Every loser name anyone ever called you was true! Alex escapes the taser. Mercer drops. CAPTAIN'S VOICE (CONT'D) Are you looking? Answer me! Time SCREECHING to a halt, all the movement converging on a single, quiet image. One we've seen before... Alex in the chair. But his last words are different. ALEX I loved Lauren. I never meant to hurt her. ZAP. Electro-spasm as the switch is thrown. No scar, no meltdown, just violent fibrillations that moderate, finally as we MATCH TO... RESUME - THE CAPTAIN'S OFFICE The Captain shaking Alex, holding something in front of Alex's face. CAPTAIN You see it? Huh? Did you see it? Alex's eye's gone dead, no longer seeing... THE PHOTO - LAUREN AND ALEX IN THE WOODS arms around each other. Familiar, but on second take, it's like the crime scene photos... Lauren's NECK is SLASHED, her body riddled with stab wounds. Alex has a big smile on his face, his arm around her, her head on his shoulder. 100% sociopath. RESUME CAPTAIN (CONT'D) Yeah. I think you fucking saw it. The Captain drops Alex lifeless and bloody to the floor. Only the sound of the Captain panting now, then... The sound of slow clapping. Madden walks into the room from behind perimeter curtains. CLAP CLAP CLAP. ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- 76. MADDEN You were right. Picture's worth a thousand words. Madden kicks Alex lightly, nudging him. No life signes. The Captain rips the picture in two. Tosses it in the trash. CAPTAIN Just don't believe everything you see. MADDEN Doubt is a motherfucker. CAPTAIN Give me a hand with this sack of shit. INT. MYSTERY ROOM - NIGHT NEW ANGLE - THROUGH A WINDOW DARKLY Madden and the Captain grab Alex, one at each end. SECRETARY He's cute. Was cute. REVEAL, this is the Secretary's POV through the window. She's bent over someone's toes, painting them BLUE. WIDE. The Mystery Room revealed. Taxidermy specimens line the wall and the table. Erin stands in PROFILE in the middle of the room, strangely silent, hands tied overhead by a rope that runs to the ceiling. The Secretary brushing polish on Erin's toes. SECRETARY (CONT'D) But the face, well, makeup can work for you or against you. Right? The Secretary applies a last flourish of polish, then stands, kisses Erin gently. SECRETARY (CONT'D) All done. Very nice. (then) You're a good listener. The Secretary moves off REVEALING... ERIN'S FACE MOUTH SEWN shut in a rough zigzag stitch, like the scar. Her eyes dart as... THE DOOR opens. The Captain and Madden carry Alex in. Madden sweeps the TAXIDERMY SPECIMENS back with his hand, clearing a space for Alex on the table. Among them... ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- 77. THE CROW on its Corvus Brachyrhynchos stand takes a small hop backward, this sign of life unnoticed as... RESUME WHUMP. Alex heaved onto the table. MADDEN So was he dead? Or alive? The Secretary puts her ear to Alex's lifeless lips. CAPTAIN I've seen birds stuffed and mounted so lifelike you'd swear you saw them breathing. This reminds him... he looks at the Crow on the stand. Lifeless, stuffed. As it should be. CAPTAIN (CONT'D) Maybe we had a case of that here. (to Secretary) Get me my kit. MADDEN You two are majorly demented. Anyone ever tell you that? The Secretary steps off to grab thekit, leaving Alex's lifeless open eyes pointing toward Erin, reflected in his eyeballs first before... ANGLE - ERIN looking up at her own hands, bound above her as she eases them apart and... The HEART SHAPED LOCKET slips from between her palms and she closes them again in time to catch the chain, the locket swinging. ON THE TABLE X-CLOSE. The locket reflected in Alex's lifeless open eyes a second before... The Secretary returns, blocking the sightline. Lays out the Kit, nasty looking tools left over from the Inquisition. Then unbuttons Alex's tattered shirt, undressing him for the procedure. Stab wounds everywhere. SECRETARY Fifty three? CAPTAIN In all the excitement I kind of lost count. (then) I think I'll mount him with his head up his ass. A large KNIFE, the Lauren murder weapon, angles in at the base of Alex'sneck where the Secretary's head was. ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- 78. THE CROW - OVERCRANKED moves on the table. Takes flight. THE TRIO turn toward the commotion. CAPTAIN (CONT'D) Grab it! THE LOCKET - OVERCRANKED Snatched in midair by the Crow from Erin's praying hands. FLASH! ALEX/CROW'S INTERNAL POV HIGH ANGLE CROWVISION. Dim memories from the woods. Anamorphic and dark. Two figures--Alex and Erin--kneeling. RESUME - THE LOCKET released from the Crow's beak, passing through the TRIO'S HANDS uncaught, bouncing off Alex onto the table, in front of his open eyes. ALEX/CROW'S INTERNAL POV FLASH. AT GROUND LEVEL. Alex fastens the LOCKET around her neck. The distortion lessening, becoming Alex's POV. ALEX ... it connects you to me... FLASH. ERIN No matter what happens... you're innocent... I promise... FLASH. Alex painting her face. RESUME Alex BLINKS. The Captain reacts--oh shit--starts to bring the knife down, a hurried strike at Alex's chest. WAM! Alex grabs the Captain's arm in his hand, stopping the movement on a dime. ALEX All lies. Everything you ever showed me. MADDEN pulls a gun, points it at Erin. ALEX jumps up, flying INTO the gun as it goes off. CRASH! They tumble THROUGH THE WINDOW into the Captain's office while... THE CAPTAIN cuts down the rope holding Erin. She collapses... ON THE TABLE strewn with blades, secreting one between her hands, in the second before... THE CAPTAIN drags Erin off. The Secretary flails at the Crow with a metal ROD, while... IN THE CAPTAIN'S OFFICE Madden has the gun on Alex now. BAM! No effect. BAM! ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- 79. Madden sweating it now, continuing to shoot with no effect as... THE MYSTERY ROOM The Secretary finally connects with the Crow, batting it against the wall, noticing this coincides with... Alex goes flying against the desk, winged himself. Madden c Onfused, not understanding. SECRETARY (O.S.) It's the bird! Kill it! Madden wheels, points the gun through the busted-out picture window into... The SECRETARY dives for cover as bullets explode around her. The Crow dancing, sprayed with debris. CUT TO: INT. POLICE STATION - ELEVATOR - NIGHT CLOSE. Floor lights sequence above the door, heading for underground parking. "5 - 4 - 3..." The Captain watches the lights. Erin is slumped face first against the side of the elevator opposite him. CAPTAIN You brought him back. Good. He owes you. We'll stick together, you and I. ON ERIN face pressed against the elevator wall, intent. CAPTAIN (CONT'D) Seen but not heard. They ought to make it a law. Erin winces, looks down... THE BLADE emerging from her sleeve as she tries to hold it with her two bound hands. DING. The elevator jerks to a stop. THE CAPTAIN grabs her off the floor and she RAMS the blade into his abdomen with the force of the entire body. Twists it. The elevator doors open. ERIN pulls out the blade, claws her way out the door, the Captain hanging on to her, finally getting free as she swipes at him again, drawing fresh blood. Running now, into... INT. POLICE STATION - PARKING GARAGE - NIGHT Erin stumbles between cars in the dark underground garage, cutting the cord off her hands, leaving it behind as... ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- 80. Behind her, the Captain unsteady on his feet, a wounded animal. He pulls out a GLOCK 9MM and KA-CHUNK. Cycles it. Erin dives between cars, scrambling on hands and knees. Looks around. HER POV - SCANNING a small garage with a few police cruisers by a SERVICE AREA and no people. A barred GATE over the exit. No way out. ERIN winces. Then stifles a cry as she cuts the stitches off her mouth with the knife. Drops the threads on the floor and moves off... CUT TO: INT. POLICE STATION - CAPTAIN'S OFFICE - NIGHT Alex runs past the glass AWARDS CASE, takes a flying leap behind the desk, seeking cover as Madden empties a clip at him. The slide ratchets back. Madden SLAMS another clip in, advances on Alex, hidden behind the shredded desk as... THE SECRETARY clears stuffed birds off the table trying to expose the wounded crow cowering back against the wall. SECRETARY Here pretty bird. Here birdy. WHOP! She grabs it, the Crow flapping desperately as... IN THE CAPTAIN'S OFFICE Madden creeps up on the desk, peers over it. Nothing. Out of nowhere... WAM! Alex rushes Madden, bulldozing him across the room with a pained cry of brute force toward... THE AWARDS CASE CRASH! Glass shatters as Alex hurls Madden, who swivels around in time to get off a last shot BAM! That collapses Alex to the floor. IN THE MYSTERY ROOM The Crow squeezes out of the Secretary's grasp, leaving her holding a couple feathers. AT THE AWARD'S CASE Alex hauls himself off the floor as the Crow joins him. Seeing... MADDEN'S HEAD has taken its place among glass bowls and trophies, half decapitated by the glass shelf it now rests on. Down the shelf from the stuffed bird. ALEX rushes through the blown out window into... Seeing for the first time that Erin is gone, the rope hanging from the ceiling, finding... THE SECRETARY ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- 81. SECRETARY (CONT'D) sitting on the floor, painting her own toenails BLUE, leaning up against the wall. ALEX Where'd they go? Alex eases the Secretary to her feet with a hand around her neck, her back to the wall. She looks UP, smiling at... WALSH - RIGHT ARM MISSING hangs high overhead from some kind of hook. His arm has been crudely removed. Underneath him, on the table, a BOX of 2" surgical stainless steel rods sits by a pool of blood. ALEX yells, reeling, as... The door flies open. A half dozen cops in, all targeting Alex as... THE SECRETARY plunges the Lauren KNIFE in Alex's back. He spins violently THROWING her HARD against the wall. WAM! Surprise!-she sticks. REVEAL, she's impaled on ANTELOPE ANTLERS, hanging off the wall. Her head drops, looking down as a stream of blood flows down her legs, drips off her toes... SECRETARY (dying words) My nails. BAM BAM BAM. The new arrivals open fire. Alex reaches over his shoulder, yanks out the knife with an odd slurping sound as... CUT TO: INT. POLICE STATION - PARKING GARAGE The sound of GUNFIRE filters down from above as the Captain hunts his hidden prey. He stops, studies... ERIN'S POV - LOW ANGLE LOOKING UNDER A CAR The Captain's feet, joined by his hand as he picks up the thread she left on the ground. INCLUDE ERIN SECRETARY reproving herself as she turns toward camera. She looks back under the car, but... The Captain's feet have moved off. Where? She listens, hears nothing. Slips off... NEW ANGLE - ERIN takes refuge in the service area, crouching behind stacks of TIRES. Knife at the ready. ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- 82. The Captain's FOOTSTEPS audible. HER OBSTRUCTED POV between stacks of tires, the Captain, Glock at ready, PASSES BY, moving out of sight. Footsteps RECEDING. Then silent. ERIN Listening, neurons firing. Cranes her neck to see. Nothing. WIDER the Captain appears BEHIND ERIN, over the stacks of tires. She's oblivious, then... Erin wheels, slashes across his wrist. The Glock falls, Erin grabs it, levels it at the Captain. Her finger tense on the trigger. CAPTAIN (re: gun) I know you too well. You won't do it. ERIN You don't know me at all. BAM! She pulls the trigger, simultaneously wrenching the gun, aiming just enough off that... THE CAPTAIN yells in pain, rushes his hand to his ear, a bloody mess. He starts advancing again toward her and Erin pulls... THE TRIGGER again, again, again.

virtue

How many times the word 'virtue' appears in the text?

Alex starts off... BAM! He's blown back by a shot half lost in the noisy club. No panic yet. ONSTAGE the strippers break character, looking. The audience turns as... ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- 63. NEAR THE ENTRANCE The First Bouncer goes flying above the heads of the crowd, getting off a dramatic SHOT while airborne, inducing... PANDEMONIUM Patrons stampeding as BAM BAM! Alex taking bullets, the miracle lost in the chaotic exit. The Bouncers out of sight underfoot. ON ALEX visible again, back on his feet. Buffeted, stationary as everyone flees. With the exodus still at flood stage... CUT TO: INT. WALSH'S OFFICE - NIGHT ON WALSH, in motion as he puts on a jacket, throws some papers into a briefcase. He's nervous, ill-suited for this cloak and dagger stuff, chattering... WALSH We'll be safe in my car. Nobody will recognize it. Let's move yours in back, no, down the block. Hope it's nothing fancy. There's a chop shop around the corner. She's looking elsewhere, at the door that has quietly opened. The Captain stands there. Somber reptile. Holding a sheaf of papers in one hand. ERIN You followed me here. CAPTAIN No... Erin, I put out a bulletin on your car because... there's bad news. And I thought you should hear it from me. She stares at him expressionless. CAPTAIN (CONT'D) Your father got involved with some bad cops. On my force, so I take responsibility. (beat, then) He killed himself. She talks with great difficulty. ERIN How? CAPTAIN How did he kill himself? She nods. ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- 64. CAPTAIN (CONT'D) With a gun. Is that what you mean? ERIN No. I mean... how did he kill himself How do you figure he killed himself--with a gun, right--when it wasn't anywhere near where you found him? He takes a step toward her. She pulls out the Blood Pistol. Seems crazy enough to use it. ERIN (CONT'D) You killed him. WALSH Erin. Don't. ERIN Back the fuck off! Now! The Captain stops, gently tosses the sheaf of papers toward her, onto Walsh's desk. The papers Nathan was preparing. Walsh looks at them while... CAPTAIN He left this. Names, addresses, a note to you. These people he was involved with killed Lauren. He couldn't bear it anymore. WALSH My God. He's right, it's all here. ERIN The note. Show it to me. Erin has one eye on the papers now, recognizes her dad's hand. The Captain inches forward. ERIN (CONT'D) (to Captain) Not you! (to Walsh) Show it to me. The Captain steps forward, right to the desk. Erin backed into a corner now. CAPTAIN It's right there, under that paper. (grabs a note) Here. Look. She holds a hand out for the note, taking her eye off the situation for one second as she reads... ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- 65. THE NOTE A bunch of numbers added together in her father's hand. Not a suicide note. THE CAPTAIN grabs Erin's wrist and BAM! A chunk of the ceiling falls as the weapon discharges. The Captain throws her in a chokehold, her finger still on the trigger. CAPTAIN (CONT'D) You were always the stupid one. She fights as the Captain wraps his own hand over hers, wrestles her arm toward Walsh, in the sights now. BAM! WALSH blown backward, collapsing by the Chess Board. Trying to pull himself up. Erin struggling. As... MADDEN enters from the hall, in a hurry, gun drawn. MADDEN You need help? He nods toward Walsh, who is moving, barely. CAPTAIN Hurry. We don't have much time. BAM. A shot from Madden drops Walsh for god. As Madden drags Walsh toward the door, the Captain grabs... THE PICTURE OF ALEX AND LAUREN pulled off the lid of the Chess box, one of the pieces of tape left behind. The Captain exits. CUT TO: INT. "THE HOLE" - NIGHT MUSIC STILL POUNDS, lights swirl. But the club has cleared out, leaving human detritus, a handful of casualties from the stampede. WITH ALEX as he steps over the Two Bouncers, expired on the floor. A soft WHIMPERING marks the silence. The girl cuffed onstage. Alex goes up to the terrified girl. Close up, she looks way underage. He gathers her clothes, spots a key on the floor. ALEX How old are you? She listens as he unlocks the cuffs. ALEX (CONT'D) You have one chance to value your life. Take it. ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- 66. He watches as she hightails it out the front door, still half naked. As she leaves... THE CROW appears in the doorway near the broken bodies. Alex takes a deep breath, as if it hurts. The casualties. CAW. The Crow flies on, disappearing into the back rooms. Alex turns, follows... INT. "THE HOLE" - BACKSTAGE - NIGHT Alex moves past the empty makeup table. A lipstick cigarette smolders in an ashtray. People left in a hurry. MUSIC LOUD, as if inside our heads now. Alex continues... INT. "THE HOLE" - INTERNET PORN FACILITY Nobody home. Empty images refreshed every six seconds. Number of hits static now. Alex drawn now by the "No Admittance" Curtain which he approaches slowly, touching it and FLASH! ALEX'S INTERNAL POV - LAUREN looking over her shoulder, pulling back the "No Admittance" Curtain, going where she shouldn't go. ALEX Lauren? You were here? Lauren makes her stealthy way into.... INT. "THE HOLE" - BACK HALL - NIGHT revealed as Alex slips past the Curtain, retracing Lauren's footsteps. CAMERA FOLLOWS Alex CREEPING down the hall to... ALEX'S INTERNAL POV - LAUREN down the hall, peering inside the partially open Back Room door, then turning back startled TOWARD CAMERA as if suddenly overtaken. AT THE DOOR Alex turns back, like Lauren, looks behind him. The hallway is empty. He enters... INT. "THE HOLE" - BACK ROOM - NIGHT Darkness. As Alex gropes for a lightswitch, a LIGHTER FLARES. Toomey and Larkin lean in, light up in synch. Alex takes in the dark fringes, dim reflections off lots of eyes. Not taxidermy specimens. BAM BAM BAM BAM. A dozen police officers lining the walls empty cartridges into Alex in an angry, STROBING fusillade. In the silence that follows... LARKIN (after the fact) Don't move. ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- 67. The gang LAUGHS. Larkin makes his way to a light switch by the door. LARKIN (CONT'D) Drinks are on me. Larkin flips on the low-watt BARE BULBS hanging down past industrial pipes and conduit, casting a dim light on the cinderblock space. NO ALEX. ALEX Cheers. They look up and... BAM! Alex DROPS LARKIN with a shot to the forehead. BAM! He MISSES TOOMEY as bullets from below EXPLODE all around him. Alex scampers across framing as... The BARE BULBS burst, all but one, plunging us back in to near darkness as Alex drops to the ground near Larkin's fallen body. Jacks up the sleeve. No scar. Alex spots Toomey, rolls out as... THREE COPS pump rounds into Alex. BAM! Alex takes the middle Cop out, a TOONEY-LIKE GUY who falls onto Toomey, behind him. ALEX turns, forced to defend himself as FULL AUTO FIRE breaks open, the other flank, more advancing cops. While... TOOMEY crawls out from under the fallen copy, then backs out the door on hands and knees while... A FINAL EXPLOSIVE FUSILLADE leaves only Alex standing. As the echoes dissolve... Alex Alex moves to where Toomey was, bends down to check the body... THE NAMEPLATE - "TOOMEY" But the pin isn't fastened properly. The badge askew. RESUME - ALEX rolls the body over, finds another nameplate underneath. "Hauser." Heads off in search of... ALEX (CONT'D) Toomey! INT - "THE HOLE" - INTERNET PORN FACILITY - NIGHT Toomey is clearing the "No Admittance" curtain when... ALEX You dripped something! Toomey panics as he approaches... ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- 68. INTERNET FANTASY SETS Monitors still updating every six seconds. Toomey hears Alex coming, slips through the "Dungeon." BEHIND THE SHOWER FANTASY SET Toomey takes refuge out of sight, next to a GAS HOT WATER HEATER, quiet as a mouse. ALEX tears the "No Admittance" curtain completely off its rod, arriving at the fantasy sets just in time to see... THE DUNGEON MONITOR Toomey (frozen) scurrying through. Gone now as the monitor updates. Then Alex appears, following him through the set... WITH ALEX moving to the rear of the "dungeon," on Toomey's heels. WAM. Toomey hits him full force with A PIPE, sending Alex sprawling backward, COLLAPSING the flimsy Shower set. WAM. Toomey swings again, misses Alex, but connects with... THE GAS LINE to the water heater ripped out by the blow. HISS. The sound of gas, loud, as the line breaks. RESUME Alex straddles Toomey, just as Toomey manages to get his gun pointed in Alex's face. Hissing gas nearby. CLICK. Toomey cocks the gun. ALEX (CONT'D) Spark, gas... bad combination. And it's not this leak here, that's the least of your worries. WAM! Alex swings Toomey's pipe HARD at a much bigger GAS LINE right behind the gas heater, leaving it badly cracked. The hiss magnified 100% nos. ALEX (CONT'D) We're going to play a little game called "Who's got the Scar." TOOMEY What Scar? What fucking scar? ALEX (buzzer sound) AAAANK. That's not how we play the game. Alex jacks Toomey's sleeve down. No Scar. Alex pissed as Toomey locks eyes with him. Really seeing him now. TOOMEY You're him! You're Corvis! We fried your ass. You're dead, man! ALEX Good thing in a situation like this. We pick up... ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- 69. INT. "THE HOLE" - BACK ROOM - NIGHT Some light filters in as a door opens to the outside. A FIGURE enters, squats among the bodies. He leans in, closes larkin's eyes, and we see... It's Madden. Blood on his hands. He hears Alex's VOICE faintly, then Toomey cries out in pain. Madden moves toward... INT. "THE HOLE" - INTERNET PORN FACILITY - NIGHT Madden creeps down the hallway to the back room. VOICES growing louder. TOOMEY Fucking Zombie. ALEX The scar. TOOMEY There is no scar. I'm telling you. As Madden moves toward the conversation, his face registers the slightest of smiles. MADDEN'S CREEPING POV MONITORS obliquely visible as he reaches the end of the hall by the Fantasy sets. The "Shower" monitor shows Alex and Toomey, visible through the trashed set, updated every six seconds. MADDEN SNIFFS gas. The HISS now audible along with Alex's voice. Madden smiles. Pulls out his 9mm. And BACKS UP, away from the Fantasy Sets toward the back room. Madden takes aim at... THE FIRST MONITOR The images is Alex threatening Toomey. Updating now--LOSING ALEX on the Monitor as he steps into frame in person, looks up and BAM! CROWVISION a speeding bullet passes narrowly by and... ANGLE - GROUND ZERO as the bullet hits the monitor in a shower of sparks, followed by... BOOM! A ROILING FIREBALL Seems to vaporize Alex before flying down the hallway right at CAMERA. Madden manages a couple steps in retreat before it blows him into the back room with a deafening roar. EXT. "THE HOLE" - INFERNO - NIGHT BOOM! Windows blow out in a gas fired inferno. A body flung out the rear door. BOOM! ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- 70. EXT. "THE HOLE" - NIGHT Interior/exterior being less meaningful than seconds ago. Walls crumbled, roof blown off. BRIGHT FIRE consumes the frame, consumes the bodies of downed cops, consumes every last bit of oxygen and life. Distant SIRENS draw closer. A SLOW SCAN, someone's OBSTRUCTED POV of Hell. INCLUDE ALEX watching from under a collapsed cinderblock wall that offers some protection from the flames, if not the heat. He looks, intent now, spotting... THE ARM WITH THE ZIGZAG SCARIFICATION sticking out of the rubble, murky through the flames, growing clearer as camera PUSHES, flames licking at it... ALEX tries to move toward the arm. Forced back by too- intense flame as another beam falls, the rubble shifts and... THE ARM WITH THE ZIGZAG SCARIFICATION skeletal now, baked down to bones. A dozen short metal rods on the ground under it. He picks a few up. THE CAPTAIN drawn now to... UNDER THE RUBBLE - WHERE ALEX WAS water dripping off the concrete, collecting in the place where Alex hid. But he's long gone. The Captain drops the rods. Satisfied it's over. CUT TO: EXT. CITY STREET #5 - NIGHT Alex staggers along in bad shape. Up ahead... A GIRL in her twenties exits a building down a flight of stairs, waits at the bottom for her BOYFRIEND, who's locking the door. She sees Alex, gives him an empathetic look. Alex walks slowly closer. ALEX'S INTERNAL POV Lauren appearing to him, playing their game. But the words are wrong, distorted. LAUREN Your witness list is no match for my kung fu. Her Bruce Lee "Oooo" a siren call. RESUME Alex moving slowly forward on the street, drawn toward the girl who watches with horrified fascination. ALEX I'm losing you. ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- 71. ALEX'S INTERNAL POV LAUREN Your zigzag love scar is no match for... Lauren and Alex drawing very close now when... RESUME WAM. A FIST clocks Alex in the face, dropping him hard onto the pavement. GIRL Did you have to do that? BOYFRIEND How about "thank you." GIRL He's bleeding. ALEX I don't bleed. BOYFRIEND And delirious. Better steer clear. ALEX'S POV The Guy wraps his arm protectively around the girl, walks her off. Running into a COP at the next intersection. They POINT at... ALEX takes off, ducking into an alley. Confused. CAMERA CREEPS BACKWARD as he gathers his thoughts. CUT TO: INT. WALSH'S OFFICE - NIGHT RATTLE RATTLE. Alex's shadow visible through the frosted glass, jostling the locked door. ALEX Erin! SMASH. His arm PUNCHES through the glass, turn the knob. Alex enters, arm bleeding badly. He yanks a large piece of glass from his flesh. Painful. Alex registers that the rules have changed. He finds a necktie of Walsh's, uses it to bind the wound, staunch the flow. He scans the room again looking for... Something. But everything seems ok. He passes... The Chess Box, the picture of Lauren and Alex gone. Just a piece of TAPE left, sticking to the top of the open lid. ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- 72. OVER THE CHESS BOARD - ALEX the missing pic lost on him, drawn to the chess board where Walsh collapsed. Something wrong with the game. He finds... THE BLACK KING Off the board. On top of a stack of news clippings lying on the floor. Alex picks it up, LEAVING a RING OF BLOOD under. CAMERA PUSHES on the clipping underneath, the headline "City Leaders Vow Crackdown in Wake of Randall Murder." PUSHING, finding among the City Leaders... ALEX (CONT'D) The King. THE CAPTAIN'S FACE circled in blood. Camera continues to PUSH on the grainy newsprint, through it, until all we see are halftone pixels and the picture loses meaning. EXT. CITY - AIRBORNE - NIGHT The Police Station in sinister CROWVISION as we approach, swoop in and... INT. POLICE STATION - HALLWAY Alex walks the long approach to the Captain's office, past the empty Secretary's desk. KICKING the door open CRASH! into... INT. POLICE STATION - CAPTAIN'S OFFICE The Captain works alone at his desk under a standing lamp. Looks up unconcerned as Alex enters, walks to the desk, and SLAPS down the ring-of-blood clipping. CAPTAIN I hate that picture. ALEX Where are they? CAPTAIN Can I get you something? A glass of water? A transfusion? ALEX Where are they? Last chance. CAPTAIN Or what? You'll bleed all over my carpet? The Captain rises. CAPTAIN (CONT'D) You know crime was actually down until you showed up, or stuck (MORE) ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- 73. CAPTAIN (CONT'D) around, or whatever the hell you're doing here. (then) What are you doing here? ALEX I'm looking for my friends. CAPTAIN See, I heard you were looking for some guy with a scar. How's that going? You find him? Yes? No? Alex tenses as the Captain starts toward him. CAPTAIN (CONT'D) You are like the guest who would not leave, you know that? And judging from your condition, maybe you've overstayed your welcome. That's not a criticism. Just an observation. Alex draws the knife from his clothes. CAPTAIN (CONT'D) I don't think you're going to use it. That's Lauren's knife. Enraged, Alex SWIPES the knife. The Captain grabs his arm right at the blood soaked necktie, squeezes hard. Alex writhes in pain. In each other's faces now. CAPTAIN (CONT'D) You come in here al lfull of righteous indignation, but what have you got to be righteous about? THE KNIFE starting to fall from Alex's hand as the Captain continues to clamp down on his wound. CAPTAIN (CONT'D) How many innocent people did you leave dead back there? ALEX You sent them. I had no choice. CAPTAIN Bullshit. You're a killer, that's all you are. A clown with a bird and a rising death toll. You think the world did you wrong?! You did the world wrong. The Captain snatches the knife, RAMS it into Alex's midriff. ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- 74. CAPTAIN (CONT'D) You and Lauren had a fight. You couldn't let it go. FLASH EXT. OLD GROWTH GROVE - DAY ALEX'S INTERNAL POV Lauren in tears in Alex's car. LAUREN I can't say. ALEX He grabs for her. She pulls violently away. LAUREN Don't touch me! RESUME INT. POLICE STATION - CAPTAIN'S OFFICE - NIGHT WHOOMP. Another stab into Alex. There will be fifty three. CAPTAIN It was one thing her dad rejected you. But when she did you lost it. ALEX You're wrong. CAPTAIN Yeah? I see doubt oozing out your arm. Where do people go when they kill their girlfriends? FLASH ALEX'S INTERNAL POV Alex back at the inferno, cowering from flames. RESUME The Captain full of righteous conviction. CAPTAIN (CONT'D) Screwed up kid stabs her fifty three times. Where would he end up? The Captain bent over Alex, stabbing him. ALEX'S INTERNAL POV (INTERCUT WITH PREVIOUS) FLASHES move us backward along the path we've taken so far, a tour of hell on earth, the blast of infernal winds and the ever-present voice of the Captain, condemning. CAPTAIN'S VOICE Take a look! Strippers writhe at "The Hole." ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- 75. CAPTAIN'S VOICE (CONT'D) That's who you are! The Porsche explodes. CAPTAIN'S VOICE (CONT'D) You sick fuck! Look at it! Alex blasts Dutton. BAM! CAPTAIN'S VOICE (CONT'D) Every loser name anyone ever called you was true! Alex escapes the taser. Mercer drops. CAPTAIN'S VOICE (CONT'D) Are you looking? Answer me! Time SCREECHING to a halt, all the movement converging on a single, quiet image. One we've seen before... Alex in the chair. But his last words are different. ALEX I loved Lauren. I never meant to hurt her. ZAP. Electro-spasm as the switch is thrown. No scar, no meltdown, just violent fibrillations that moderate, finally as we MATCH TO... RESUME - THE CAPTAIN'S OFFICE The Captain shaking Alex, holding something in front of Alex's face. CAPTAIN You see it? Huh? Did you see it? Alex's eye's gone dead, no longer seeing... THE PHOTO - LAUREN AND ALEX IN THE WOODS arms around each other. Familiar, but on second take, it's like the crime scene photos... Lauren's NECK is SLASHED, her body riddled with stab wounds. Alex has a big smile on his face, his arm around her, her head on his shoulder. 100% sociopath. RESUME CAPTAIN (CONT'D) Yeah. I think you fucking saw it. The Captain drops Alex lifeless and bloody to the floor. Only the sound of the Captain panting now, then... The sound of slow clapping. Madden walks into the room from behind perimeter curtains. CLAP CLAP CLAP. ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- 76. MADDEN You were right. Picture's worth a thousand words. Madden kicks Alex lightly, nudging him. No life signes. The Captain rips the picture in two. Tosses it in the trash. CAPTAIN Just don't believe everything you see. MADDEN Doubt is a motherfucker. CAPTAIN Give me a hand with this sack of shit. INT. MYSTERY ROOM - NIGHT NEW ANGLE - THROUGH A WINDOW DARKLY Madden and the Captain grab Alex, one at each end. SECRETARY He's cute. Was cute. REVEAL, this is the Secretary's POV through the window. She's bent over someone's toes, painting them BLUE. WIDE. The Mystery Room revealed. Taxidermy specimens line the wall and the table. Erin stands in PROFILE in the middle of the room, strangely silent, hands tied overhead by a rope that runs to the ceiling. The Secretary brushing polish on Erin's toes. SECRETARY (CONT'D) But the face, well, makeup can work for you or against you. Right? The Secretary applies a last flourish of polish, then stands, kisses Erin gently. SECRETARY (CONT'D) All done. Very nice. (then) You're a good listener. The Secretary moves off REVEALING... ERIN'S FACE MOUTH SEWN shut in a rough zigzag stitch, like the scar. Her eyes dart as... THE DOOR opens. The Captain and Madden carry Alex in. Madden sweeps the TAXIDERMY SPECIMENS back with his hand, clearing a space for Alex on the table. Among them... ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- 77. THE CROW on its Corvus Brachyrhynchos stand takes a small hop backward, this sign of life unnoticed as... RESUME WHUMP. Alex heaved onto the table. MADDEN So was he dead? Or alive? The Secretary puts her ear to Alex's lifeless lips. CAPTAIN I've seen birds stuffed and mounted so lifelike you'd swear you saw them breathing. This reminds him... he looks at the Crow on the stand. Lifeless, stuffed. As it should be. CAPTAIN (CONT'D) Maybe we had a case of that here. (to Secretary) Get me my kit. MADDEN You two are majorly demented. Anyone ever tell you that? The Secretary steps off to grab thekit, leaving Alex's lifeless open eyes pointing toward Erin, reflected in his eyeballs first before... ANGLE - ERIN looking up at her own hands, bound above her as she eases them apart and... The HEART SHAPED LOCKET slips from between her palms and she closes them again in time to catch the chain, the locket swinging. ON THE TABLE X-CLOSE. The locket reflected in Alex's lifeless open eyes a second before... The Secretary returns, blocking the sightline. Lays out the Kit, nasty looking tools left over from the Inquisition. Then unbuttons Alex's tattered shirt, undressing him for the procedure. Stab wounds everywhere. SECRETARY Fifty three? CAPTAIN In all the excitement I kind of lost count. (then) I think I'll mount him with his head up his ass. A large KNIFE, the Lauren murder weapon, angles in at the base of Alex'sneck where the Secretary's head was. ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- 78. THE CROW - OVERCRANKED moves on the table. Takes flight. THE TRIO turn toward the commotion. CAPTAIN (CONT'D) Grab it! THE LOCKET - OVERCRANKED Snatched in midair by the Crow from Erin's praying hands. FLASH! ALEX/CROW'S INTERNAL POV HIGH ANGLE CROWVISION. Dim memories from the woods. Anamorphic and dark. Two figures--Alex and Erin--kneeling. RESUME - THE LOCKET released from the Crow's beak, passing through the TRIO'S HANDS uncaught, bouncing off Alex onto the table, in front of his open eyes. ALEX/CROW'S INTERNAL POV FLASH. AT GROUND LEVEL. Alex fastens the LOCKET around her neck. The distortion lessening, becoming Alex's POV. ALEX ... it connects you to me... FLASH. ERIN No matter what happens... you're innocent... I promise... FLASH. Alex painting her face. RESUME Alex BLINKS. The Captain reacts--oh shit--starts to bring the knife down, a hurried strike at Alex's chest. WAM! Alex grabs the Captain's arm in his hand, stopping the movement on a dime. ALEX All lies. Everything you ever showed me. MADDEN pulls a gun, points it at Erin. ALEX jumps up, flying INTO the gun as it goes off. CRASH! They tumble THROUGH THE WINDOW into the Captain's office while... THE CAPTAIN cuts down the rope holding Erin. She collapses... ON THE TABLE strewn with blades, secreting one between her hands, in the second before... THE CAPTAIN drags Erin off. The Secretary flails at the Crow with a metal ROD, while... IN THE CAPTAIN'S OFFICE Madden has the gun on Alex now. BAM! No effect. BAM! ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- 79. Madden sweating it now, continuing to shoot with no effect as... THE MYSTERY ROOM The Secretary finally connects with the Crow, batting it against the wall, noticing this coincides with... Alex goes flying against the desk, winged himself. Madden c Onfused, not understanding. SECRETARY (O.S.) It's the bird! Kill it! Madden wheels, points the gun through the busted-out picture window into... The SECRETARY dives for cover as bullets explode around her. The Crow dancing, sprayed with debris. CUT TO: INT. POLICE STATION - ELEVATOR - NIGHT CLOSE. Floor lights sequence above the door, heading for underground parking. "5 - 4 - 3..." The Captain watches the lights. Erin is slumped face first against the side of the elevator opposite him. CAPTAIN You brought him back. Good. He owes you. We'll stick together, you and I. ON ERIN face pressed against the elevator wall, intent. CAPTAIN (CONT'D) Seen but not heard. They ought to make it a law. Erin winces, looks down... THE BLADE emerging from her sleeve as she tries to hold it with her two bound hands. DING. The elevator jerks to a stop. THE CAPTAIN grabs her off the floor and she RAMS the blade into his abdomen with the force of the entire body. Twists it. The elevator doors open. ERIN pulls out the blade, claws her way out the door, the Captain hanging on to her, finally getting free as she swipes at him again, drawing fresh blood. Running now, into... INT. POLICE STATION - PARKING GARAGE - NIGHT Erin stumbles between cars in the dark underground garage, cutting the cord off her hands, leaving it behind as... ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- 80. Behind her, the Captain unsteady on his feet, a wounded animal. He pulls out a GLOCK 9MM and KA-CHUNK. Cycles it. Erin dives between cars, scrambling on hands and knees. Looks around. HER POV - SCANNING a small garage with a few police cruisers by a SERVICE AREA and no people. A barred GATE over the exit. No way out. ERIN winces. Then stifles a cry as she cuts the stitches off her mouth with the knife. Drops the threads on the floor and moves off... CUT TO: INT. POLICE STATION - CAPTAIN'S OFFICE - NIGHT Alex runs past the glass AWARDS CASE, takes a flying leap behind the desk, seeking cover as Madden empties a clip at him. The slide ratchets back. Madden SLAMS another clip in, advances on Alex, hidden behind the shredded desk as... THE SECRETARY clears stuffed birds off the table trying to expose the wounded crow cowering back against the wall. SECRETARY Here pretty bird. Here birdy. WHOP! She grabs it, the Crow flapping desperately as... IN THE CAPTAIN'S OFFICE Madden creeps up on the desk, peers over it. Nothing. Out of nowhere... WAM! Alex rushes Madden, bulldozing him across the room with a pained cry of brute force toward... THE AWARDS CASE CRASH! Glass shatters as Alex hurls Madden, who swivels around in time to get off a last shot BAM! That collapses Alex to the floor. IN THE MYSTERY ROOM The Crow squeezes out of the Secretary's grasp, leaving her holding a couple feathers. AT THE AWARD'S CASE Alex hauls himself off the floor as the Crow joins him. Seeing... MADDEN'S HEAD has taken its place among glass bowls and trophies, half decapitated by the glass shelf it now rests on. Down the shelf from the stuffed bird. ALEX rushes through the blown out window into... Seeing for the first time that Erin is gone, the rope hanging from the ceiling, finding... THE SECRETARY ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- 81. SECRETARY (CONT'D) sitting on the floor, painting her own toenails BLUE, leaning up against the wall. ALEX Where'd they go? Alex eases the Secretary to her feet with a hand around her neck, her back to the wall. She looks UP, smiling at... WALSH - RIGHT ARM MISSING hangs high overhead from some kind of hook. His arm has been crudely removed. Underneath him, on the table, a BOX of 2" surgical stainless steel rods sits by a pool of blood. ALEX yells, reeling, as... The door flies open. A half dozen cops in, all targeting Alex as... THE SECRETARY plunges the Lauren KNIFE in Alex's back. He spins violently THROWING her HARD against the wall. WAM! Surprise!-she sticks. REVEAL, she's impaled on ANTELOPE ANTLERS, hanging off the wall. Her head drops, looking down as a stream of blood flows down her legs, drips off her toes... SECRETARY (dying words) My nails. BAM BAM BAM. The new arrivals open fire. Alex reaches over his shoulder, yanks out the knife with an odd slurping sound as... CUT TO: INT. POLICE STATION - PARKING GARAGE The sound of GUNFIRE filters down from above as the Captain hunts his hidden prey. He stops, studies... ERIN'S POV - LOW ANGLE LOOKING UNDER A CAR The Captain's feet, joined by his hand as he picks up the thread she left on the ground. INCLUDE ERIN SECRETARY reproving herself as she turns toward camera. She looks back under the car, but... The Captain's feet have moved off. Where? She listens, hears nothing. Slips off... NEW ANGLE - ERIN takes refuge in the service area, crouching behind stacks of TIRES. Knife at the ready. ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- 82. The Captain's FOOTSTEPS audible. HER OBSTRUCTED POV between stacks of tires, the Captain, Glock at ready, PASSES BY, moving out of sight. Footsteps RECEDING. Then silent. ERIN Listening, neurons firing. Cranes her neck to see. Nothing. WIDER the Captain appears BEHIND ERIN, over the stacks of tires. She's oblivious, then... Erin wheels, slashes across his wrist. The Glock falls, Erin grabs it, levels it at the Captain. Her finger tense on the trigger. CAPTAIN (re: gun) I know you too well. You won't do it. ERIN You don't know me at all. BAM! She pulls the trigger, simultaneously wrenching the gun, aiming just enough off that... THE CAPTAIN yells in pain, rushes his hand to his ear, a bloody mess. He starts advancing again toward her and Erin pulls... THE TRIGGER again, again, again.

figure

How many times the word 'figure' appears in the text?

Alex starts off... BAM! He's blown back by a shot half lost in the noisy club. No panic yet. ONSTAGE the strippers break character, looking. The audience turns as... ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- 63. NEAR THE ENTRANCE The First Bouncer goes flying above the heads of the crowd, getting off a dramatic SHOT while airborne, inducing... PANDEMONIUM Patrons stampeding as BAM BAM! Alex taking bullets, the miracle lost in the chaotic exit. The Bouncers out of sight underfoot. ON ALEX visible again, back on his feet. Buffeted, stationary as everyone flees. With the exodus still at flood stage... CUT TO: INT. WALSH'S OFFICE - NIGHT ON WALSH, in motion as he puts on a jacket, throws some papers into a briefcase. He's nervous, ill-suited for this cloak and dagger stuff, chattering... WALSH We'll be safe in my car. Nobody will recognize it. Let's move yours in back, no, down the block. Hope it's nothing fancy. There's a chop shop around the corner. She's looking elsewhere, at the door that has quietly opened. The Captain stands there. Somber reptile. Holding a sheaf of papers in one hand. ERIN You followed me here. CAPTAIN No... Erin, I put out a bulletin on your car because... there's bad news. And I thought you should hear it from me. She stares at him expressionless. CAPTAIN (CONT'D) Your father got involved with some bad cops. On my force, so I take responsibility. (beat, then) He killed himself. She talks with great difficulty. ERIN How? CAPTAIN How did he kill himself? She nods. ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- 64. CAPTAIN (CONT'D) With a gun. Is that what you mean? ERIN No. I mean... how did he kill himself How do you figure he killed himself--with a gun, right--when it wasn't anywhere near where you found him? He takes a step toward her. She pulls out the Blood Pistol. Seems crazy enough to use it. ERIN (CONT'D) You killed him. WALSH Erin. Don't. ERIN Back the fuck off! Now! The Captain stops, gently tosses the sheaf of papers toward her, onto Walsh's desk. The papers Nathan was preparing. Walsh looks at them while... CAPTAIN He left this. Names, addresses, a note to you. These people he was involved with killed Lauren. He couldn't bear it anymore. WALSH My God. He's right, it's all here. ERIN The note. Show it to me. Erin has one eye on the papers now, recognizes her dad's hand. The Captain inches forward. ERIN (CONT'D) (to Captain) Not you! (to Walsh) Show it to me. The Captain steps forward, right to the desk. Erin backed into a corner now. CAPTAIN It's right there, under that paper. (grabs a note) Here. Look. She holds a hand out for the note, taking her eye off the situation for one second as she reads... ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- 65. THE NOTE A bunch of numbers added together in her father's hand. Not a suicide note. THE CAPTAIN grabs Erin's wrist and BAM! A chunk of the ceiling falls as the weapon discharges. The Captain throws her in a chokehold, her finger still on the trigger. CAPTAIN (CONT'D) You were always the stupid one. She fights as the Captain wraps his own hand over hers, wrestles her arm toward Walsh, in the sights now. BAM! WALSH blown backward, collapsing by the Chess Board. Trying to pull himself up. Erin struggling. As... MADDEN enters from the hall, in a hurry, gun drawn. MADDEN You need help? He nods toward Walsh, who is moving, barely. CAPTAIN Hurry. We don't have much time. BAM. A shot from Madden drops Walsh for god. As Madden drags Walsh toward the door, the Captain grabs... THE PICTURE OF ALEX AND LAUREN pulled off the lid of the Chess box, one of the pieces of tape left behind. The Captain exits. CUT TO: INT. "THE HOLE" - NIGHT MUSIC STILL POUNDS, lights swirl. But the club has cleared out, leaving human detritus, a handful of casualties from the stampede. WITH ALEX as he steps over the Two Bouncers, expired on the floor. A soft WHIMPERING marks the silence. The girl cuffed onstage. Alex goes up to the terrified girl. Close up, she looks way underage. He gathers her clothes, spots a key on the floor. ALEX How old are you? She listens as he unlocks the cuffs. ALEX (CONT'D) You have one chance to value your life. Take it. ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- 66. He watches as she hightails it out the front door, still half naked. As she leaves... THE CROW appears in the doorway near the broken bodies. Alex takes a deep breath, as if it hurts. The casualties. CAW. The Crow flies on, disappearing into the back rooms. Alex turns, follows... INT. "THE HOLE" - BACKSTAGE - NIGHT Alex moves past the empty makeup table. A lipstick cigarette smolders in an ashtray. People left in a hurry. MUSIC LOUD, as if inside our heads now. Alex continues... INT. "THE HOLE" - INTERNET PORN FACILITY Nobody home. Empty images refreshed every six seconds. Number of hits static now. Alex drawn now by the "No Admittance" Curtain which he approaches slowly, touching it and FLASH! ALEX'S INTERNAL POV - LAUREN looking over her shoulder, pulling back the "No Admittance" Curtain, going where she shouldn't go. ALEX Lauren? You were here? Lauren makes her stealthy way into.... INT. "THE HOLE" - BACK HALL - NIGHT revealed as Alex slips past the Curtain, retracing Lauren's footsteps. CAMERA FOLLOWS Alex CREEPING down the hall to... ALEX'S INTERNAL POV - LAUREN down the hall, peering inside the partially open Back Room door, then turning back startled TOWARD CAMERA as if suddenly overtaken. AT THE DOOR Alex turns back, like Lauren, looks behind him. The hallway is empty. He enters... INT. "THE HOLE" - BACK ROOM - NIGHT Darkness. As Alex gropes for a lightswitch, a LIGHTER FLARES. Toomey and Larkin lean in, light up in synch. Alex takes in the dark fringes, dim reflections off lots of eyes. Not taxidermy specimens. BAM BAM BAM BAM. A dozen police officers lining the walls empty cartridges into Alex in an angry, STROBING fusillade. In the silence that follows... LARKIN (after the fact) Don't move. ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- 67. The gang LAUGHS. Larkin makes his way to a light switch by the door. LARKIN (CONT'D) Drinks are on me. Larkin flips on the low-watt BARE BULBS hanging down past industrial pipes and conduit, casting a dim light on the cinderblock space. NO ALEX. ALEX Cheers. They look up and... BAM! Alex DROPS LARKIN with a shot to the forehead. BAM! He MISSES TOOMEY as bullets from below EXPLODE all around him. Alex scampers across framing as... The BARE BULBS burst, all but one, plunging us back in to near darkness as Alex drops to the ground near Larkin's fallen body. Jacks up the sleeve. No scar. Alex spots Toomey, rolls out as... THREE COPS pump rounds into Alex. BAM! Alex takes the middle Cop out, a TOONEY-LIKE GUY who falls onto Toomey, behind him. ALEX turns, forced to defend himself as FULL AUTO FIRE breaks open, the other flank, more advancing cops. While... TOOMEY crawls out from under the fallen copy, then backs out the door on hands and knees while... A FINAL EXPLOSIVE FUSILLADE leaves only Alex standing. As the echoes dissolve... Alex Alex moves to where Toomey was, bends down to check the body... THE NAMEPLATE - "TOOMEY" But the pin isn't fastened properly. The badge askew. RESUME - ALEX rolls the body over, finds another nameplate underneath. "Hauser." Heads off in search of... ALEX (CONT'D) Toomey! INT - "THE HOLE" - INTERNET PORN FACILITY - NIGHT Toomey is clearing the "No Admittance" curtain when... ALEX You dripped something! Toomey panics as he approaches... ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- 68. INTERNET FANTASY SETS Monitors still updating every six seconds. Toomey hears Alex coming, slips through the "Dungeon." BEHIND THE SHOWER FANTASY SET Toomey takes refuge out of sight, next to a GAS HOT WATER HEATER, quiet as a mouse. ALEX tears the "No Admittance" curtain completely off its rod, arriving at the fantasy sets just in time to see... THE DUNGEON MONITOR Toomey (frozen) scurrying through. Gone now as the monitor updates. Then Alex appears, following him through the set... WITH ALEX moving to the rear of the "dungeon," on Toomey's heels. WAM. Toomey hits him full force with A PIPE, sending Alex sprawling backward, COLLAPSING the flimsy Shower set. WAM. Toomey swings again, misses Alex, but connects with... THE GAS LINE to the water heater ripped out by the blow. HISS. The sound of gas, loud, as the line breaks. RESUME Alex straddles Toomey, just as Toomey manages to get his gun pointed in Alex's face. Hissing gas nearby. CLICK. Toomey cocks the gun. ALEX (CONT'D) Spark, gas... bad combination. And it's not this leak here, that's the least of your worries. WAM! Alex swings Toomey's pipe HARD at a much bigger GAS LINE right behind the gas heater, leaving it badly cracked. The hiss magnified 100% nos. ALEX (CONT'D) We're going to play a little game called "Who's got the Scar." TOOMEY What Scar? What fucking scar? ALEX (buzzer sound) AAAANK. That's not how we play the game. Alex jacks Toomey's sleeve down. No Scar. Alex pissed as Toomey locks eyes with him. Really seeing him now. TOOMEY You're him! You're Corvis! We fried your ass. You're dead, man! ALEX Good thing in a situation like this. We pick up... ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- 69. INT. "THE HOLE" - BACK ROOM - NIGHT Some light filters in as a door opens to the outside. A FIGURE enters, squats among the bodies. He leans in, closes larkin's eyes, and we see... It's Madden. Blood on his hands. He hears Alex's VOICE faintly, then Toomey cries out in pain. Madden moves toward... INT. "THE HOLE" - INTERNET PORN FACILITY - NIGHT Madden creeps down the hallway to the back room. VOICES growing louder. TOOMEY Fucking Zombie. ALEX The scar. TOOMEY There is no scar. I'm telling you. As Madden moves toward the conversation, his face registers the slightest of smiles. MADDEN'S CREEPING POV MONITORS obliquely visible as he reaches the end of the hall by the Fantasy sets. The "Shower" monitor shows Alex and Toomey, visible through the trashed set, updated every six seconds. MADDEN SNIFFS gas. The HISS now audible along with Alex's voice. Madden smiles. Pulls out his 9mm. And BACKS UP, away from the Fantasy Sets toward the back room. Madden takes aim at... THE FIRST MONITOR The images is Alex threatening Toomey. Updating now--LOSING ALEX on the Monitor as he steps into frame in person, looks up and BAM! CROWVISION a speeding bullet passes narrowly by and... ANGLE - GROUND ZERO as the bullet hits the monitor in a shower of sparks, followed by... BOOM! A ROILING FIREBALL Seems to vaporize Alex before flying down the hallway right at CAMERA. Madden manages a couple steps in retreat before it blows him into the back room with a deafening roar. EXT. "THE HOLE" - INFERNO - NIGHT BOOM! Windows blow out in a gas fired inferno. A body flung out the rear door. BOOM! ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- 70. EXT. "THE HOLE" - NIGHT Interior/exterior being less meaningful than seconds ago. Walls crumbled, roof blown off. BRIGHT FIRE consumes the frame, consumes the bodies of downed cops, consumes every last bit of oxygen and life. Distant SIRENS draw closer. A SLOW SCAN, someone's OBSTRUCTED POV of Hell. INCLUDE ALEX watching from under a collapsed cinderblock wall that offers some protection from the flames, if not the heat. He looks, intent now, spotting... THE ARM WITH THE ZIGZAG SCARIFICATION sticking out of the rubble, murky through the flames, growing clearer as camera PUSHES, flames licking at it... ALEX tries to move toward the arm. Forced back by too- intense flame as another beam falls, the rubble shifts and... THE ARM WITH THE ZIGZAG SCARIFICATION skeletal now, baked down to bones. A dozen short metal rods on the ground under it. He picks a few up. THE CAPTAIN drawn now to... UNDER THE RUBBLE - WHERE ALEX WAS water dripping off the concrete, collecting in the place where Alex hid. But he's long gone. The Captain drops the rods. Satisfied it's over. CUT TO: EXT. CITY STREET #5 - NIGHT Alex staggers along in bad shape. Up ahead... A GIRL in her twenties exits a building down a flight of stairs, waits at the bottom for her BOYFRIEND, who's locking the door. She sees Alex, gives him an empathetic look. Alex walks slowly closer. ALEX'S INTERNAL POV Lauren appearing to him, playing their game. But the words are wrong, distorted. LAUREN Your witness list is no match for my kung fu. Her Bruce Lee "Oooo" a siren call. RESUME Alex moving slowly forward on the street, drawn toward the girl who watches with horrified fascination. ALEX I'm losing you. ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- 71. ALEX'S INTERNAL POV LAUREN Your zigzag love scar is no match for... Lauren and Alex drawing very close now when... RESUME WAM. A FIST clocks Alex in the face, dropping him hard onto the pavement. GIRL Did you have to do that? BOYFRIEND How about "thank you." GIRL He's bleeding. ALEX I don't bleed. BOYFRIEND And delirious. Better steer clear. ALEX'S POV The Guy wraps his arm protectively around the girl, walks her off. Running into a COP at the next intersection. They POINT at... ALEX takes off, ducking into an alley. Confused. CAMERA CREEPS BACKWARD as he gathers his thoughts. CUT TO: INT. WALSH'S OFFICE - NIGHT RATTLE RATTLE. Alex's shadow visible through the frosted glass, jostling the locked door. ALEX Erin! SMASH. His arm PUNCHES through the glass, turn the knob. Alex enters, arm bleeding badly. He yanks a large piece of glass from his flesh. Painful. Alex registers that the rules have changed. He finds a necktie of Walsh's, uses it to bind the wound, staunch the flow. He scans the room again looking for... Something. But everything seems ok. He passes... The Chess Box, the picture of Lauren and Alex gone. Just a piece of TAPE left, sticking to the top of the open lid. ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- 72. OVER THE CHESS BOARD - ALEX the missing pic lost on him, drawn to the chess board where Walsh collapsed. Something wrong with the game. He finds... THE BLACK KING Off the board. On top of a stack of news clippings lying on the floor. Alex picks it up, LEAVING a RING OF BLOOD under. CAMERA PUSHES on the clipping underneath, the headline "City Leaders Vow Crackdown in Wake of Randall Murder." PUSHING, finding among the City Leaders... ALEX (CONT'D) The King. THE CAPTAIN'S FACE circled in blood. Camera continues to PUSH on the grainy newsprint, through it, until all we see are halftone pixels and the picture loses meaning. EXT. CITY - AIRBORNE - NIGHT The Police Station in sinister CROWVISION as we approach, swoop in and... INT. POLICE STATION - HALLWAY Alex walks the long approach to the Captain's office, past the empty Secretary's desk. KICKING the door open CRASH! into... INT. POLICE STATION - CAPTAIN'S OFFICE The Captain works alone at his desk under a standing lamp. Looks up unconcerned as Alex enters, walks to the desk, and SLAPS down the ring-of-blood clipping. CAPTAIN I hate that picture. ALEX Where are they? CAPTAIN Can I get you something? A glass of water? A transfusion? ALEX Where are they? Last chance. CAPTAIN Or what? You'll bleed all over my carpet? The Captain rises. CAPTAIN (CONT'D) You know crime was actually down until you showed up, or stuck (MORE) ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- 73. CAPTAIN (CONT'D) around, or whatever the hell you're doing here. (then) What are you doing here? ALEX I'm looking for my friends. CAPTAIN See, I heard you were looking for some guy with a scar. How's that going? You find him? Yes? No? Alex tenses as the Captain starts toward him. CAPTAIN (CONT'D) You are like the guest who would not leave, you know that? And judging from your condition, maybe you've overstayed your welcome. That's not a criticism. Just an observation. Alex draws the knife from his clothes. CAPTAIN (CONT'D) I don't think you're going to use it. That's Lauren's knife. Enraged, Alex SWIPES the knife. The Captain grabs his arm right at the blood soaked necktie, squeezes hard. Alex writhes in pain. In each other's faces now. CAPTAIN (CONT'D) You come in here al lfull of righteous indignation, but what have you got to be righteous about? THE KNIFE starting to fall from Alex's hand as the Captain continues to clamp down on his wound. CAPTAIN (CONT'D) How many innocent people did you leave dead back there? ALEX You sent them. I had no choice. CAPTAIN Bullshit. You're a killer, that's all you are. A clown with a bird and a rising death toll. You think the world did you wrong?! You did the world wrong. The Captain snatches the knife, RAMS it into Alex's midriff. ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- 74. CAPTAIN (CONT'D) You and Lauren had a fight. You couldn't let it go. FLASH EXT. OLD GROWTH GROVE - DAY ALEX'S INTERNAL POV Lauren in tears in Alex's car. LAUREN I can't say. ALEX He grabs for her. She pulls violently away. LAUREN Don't touch me! RESUME INT. POLICE STATION - CAPTAIN'S OFFICE - NIGHT WHOOMP. Another stab into Alex. There will be fifty three. CAPTAIN It was one thing her dad rejected you. But when she did you lost it. ALEX You're wrong. CAPTAIN Yeah? I see doubt oozing out your arm. Where do people go when they kill their girlfriends? FLASH ALEX'S INTERNAL POV Alex back at the inferno, cowering from flames. RESUME The Captain full of righteous conviction. CAPTAIN (CONT'D) Screwed up kid stabs her fifty three times. Where would he end up? The Captain bent over Alex, stabbing him. ALEX'S INTERNAL POV (INTERCUT WITH PREVIOUS) FLASHES move us backward along the path we've taken so far, a tour of hell on earth, the blast of infernal winds and the ever-present voice of the Captain, condemning. CAPTAIN'S VOICE Take a look! Strippers writhe at "The Hole." ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- 75. CAPTAIN'S VOICE (CONT'D) That's who you are! The Porsche explodes. CAPTAIN'S VOICE (CONT'D) You sick fuck! Look at it! Alex blasts Dutton. BAM! CAPTAIN'S VOICE (CONT'D) Every loser name anyone ever called you was true! Alex escapes the taser. Mercer drops. CAPTAIN'S VOICE (CONT'D) Are you looking? Answer me! Time SCREECHING to a halt, all the movement converging on a single, quiet image. One we've seen before... Alex in the chair. But his last words are different. ALEX I loved Lauren. I never meant to hurt her. ZAP. Electro-spasm as the switch is thrown. No scar, no meltdown, just violent fibrillations that moderate, finally as we MATCH TO... RESUME - THE CAPTAIN'S OFFICE The Captain shaking Alex, holding something in front of Alex's face. CAPTAIN You see it? Huh? Did you see it? Alex's eye's gone dead, no longer seeing... THE PHOTO - LAUREN AND ALEX IN THE WOODS arms around each other. Familiar, but on second take, it's like the crime scene photos... Lauren's NECK is SLASHED, her body riddled with stab wounds. Alex has a big smile on his face, his arm around her, her head on his shoulder. 100% sociopath. RESUME CAPTAIN (CONT'D) Yeah. I think you fucking saw it. The Captain drops Alex lifeless and bloody to the floor. Only the sound of the Captain panting now, then... The sound of slow clapping. Madden walks into the room from behind perimeter curtains. CLAP CLAP CLAP. ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- 76. MADDEN You were right. Picture's worth a thousand words. Madden kicks Alex lightly, nudging him. No life signes. The Captain rips the picture in two. Tosses it in the trash. CAPTAIN Just don't believe everything you see. MADDEN Doubt is a motherfucker. CAPTAIN Give me a hand with this sack of shit. INT. MYSTERY ROOM - NIGHT NEW ANGLE - THROUGH A WINDOW DARKLY Madden and the Captain grab Alex, one at each end. SECRETARY He's cute. Was cute. REVEAL, this is the Secretary's POV through the window. She's bent over someone's toes, painting them BLUE. WIDE. The Mystery Room revealed. Taxidermy specimens line the wall and the table. Erin stands in PROFILE in the middle of the room, strangely silent, hands tied overhead by a rope that runs to the ceiling. The Secretary brushing polish on Erin's toes. SECRETARY (CONT'D) But the face, well, makeup can work for you or against you. Right? The Secretary applies a last flourish of polish, then stands, kisses Erin gently. SECRETARY (CONT'D) All done. Very nice. (then) You're a good listener. The Secretary moves off REVEALING... ERIN'S FACE MOUTH SEWN shut in a rough zigzag stitch, like the scar. Her eyes dart as... THE DOOR opens. The Captain and Madden carry Alex in. Madden sweeps the TAXIDERMY SPECIMENS back with his hand, clearing a space for Alex on the table. Among them... ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- 77. THE CROW on its Corvus Brachyrhynchos stand takes a small hop backward, this sign of life unnoticed as... RESUME WHUMP. Alex heaved onto the table. MADDEN So was he dead? Or alive? The Secretary puts her ear to Alex's lifeless lips. CAPTAIN I've seen birds stuffed and mounted so lifelike you'd swear you saw them breathing. This reminds him... he looks at the Crow on the stand. Lifeless, stuffed. As it should be. CAPTAIN (CONT'D) Maybe we had a case of that here. (to Secretary) Get me my kit. MADDEN You two are majorly demented. Anyone ever tell you that? The Secretary steps off to grab thekit, leaving Alex's lifeless open eyes pointing toward Erin, reflected in his eyeballs first before... ANGLE - ERIN looking up at her own hands, bound above her as she eases them apart and... The HEART SHAPED LOCKET slips from between her palms and she closes them again in time to catch the chain, the locket swinging. ON THE TABLE X-CLOSE. The locket reflected in Alex's lifeless open eyes a second before... The Secretary returns, blocking the sightline. Lays out the Kit, nasty looking tools left over from the Inquisition. Then unbuttons Alex's tattered shirt, undressing him for the procedure. Stab wounds everywhere. SECRETARY Fifty three? CAPTAIN In all the excitement I kind of lost count. (then) I think I'll mount him with his head up his ass. A large KNIFE, the Lauren murder weapon, angles in at the base of Alex'sneck where the Secretary's head was. ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- 78. THE CROW - OVERCRANKED moves on the table. Takes flight. THE TRIO turn toward the commotion. CAPTAIN (CONT'D) Grab it! THE LOCKET - OVERCRANKED Snatched in midair by the Crow from Erin's praying hands. FLASH! ALEX/CROW'S INTERNAL POV HIGH ANGLE CROWVISION. Dim memories from the woods. Anamorphic and dark. Two figures--Alex and Erin--kneeling. RESUME - THE LOCKET released from the Crow's beak, passing through the TRIO'S HANDS uncaught, bouncing off Alex onto the table, in front of his open eyes. ALEX/CROW'S INTERNAL POV FLASH. AT GROUND LEVEL. Alex fastens the LOCKET around her neck. The distortion lessening, becoming Alex's POV. ALEX ... it connects you to me... FLASH. ERIN No matter what happens... you're innocent... I promise... FLASH. Alex painting her face. RESUME Alex BLINKS. The Captain reacts--oh shit--starts to bring the knife down, a hurried strike at Alex's chest. WAM! Alex grabs the Captain's arm in his hand, stopping the movement on a dime. ALEX All lies. Everything you ever showed me. MADDEN pulls a gun, points it at Erin. ALEX jumps up, flying INTO the gun as it goes off. CRASH! They tumble THROUGH THE WINDOW into the Captain's office while... THE CAPTAIN cuts down the rope holding Erin. She collapses... ON THE TABLE strewn with blades, secreting one between her hands, in the second before... THE CAPTAIN drags Erin off. The Secretary flails at the Crow with a metal ROD, while... IN THE CAPTAIN'S OFFICE Madden has the gun on Alex now. BAM! No effect. BAM! ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- 79. Madden sweating it now, continuing to shoot with no effect as... THE MYSTERY ROOM The Secretary finally connects with the Crow, batting it against the wall, noticing this coincides with... Alex goes flying against the desk, winged himself. Madden c Onfused, not understanding. SECRETARY (O.S.) It's the bird! Kill it! Madden wheels, points the gun through the busted-out picture window into... The SECRETARY dives for cover as bullets explode around her. The Crow dancing, sprayed with debris. CUT TO: INT. POLICE STATION - ELEVATOR - NIGHT CLOSE. Floor lights sequence above the door, heading for underground parking. "5 - 4 - 3..." The Captain watches the lights. Erin is slumped face first against the side of the elevator opposite him. CAPTAIN You brought him back. Good. He owes you. We'll stick together, you and I. ON ERIN face pressed against the elevator wall, intent. CAPTAIN (CONT'D) Seen but not heard. They ought to make it a law. Erin winces, looks down... THE BLADE emerging from her sleeve as she tries to hold it with her two bound hands. DING. The elevator jerks to a stop. THE CAPTAIN grabs her off the floor and she RAMS the blade into his abdomen with the force of the entire body. Twists it. The elevator doors open. ERIN pulls out the blade, claws her way out the door, the Captain hanging on to her, finally getting free as she swipes at him again, drawing fresh blood. Running now, into... INT. POLICE STATION - PARKING GARAGE - NIGHT Erin stumbles between cars in the dark underground garage, cutting the cord off her hands, leaving it behind as... ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- 80. Behind her, the Captain unsteady on his feet, a wounded animal. He pulls out a GLOCK 9MM and KA-CHUNK. Cycles it. Erin dives between cars, scrambling on hands and knees. Looks around. HER POV - SCANNING a small garage with a few police cruisers by a SERVICE AREA and no people. A barred GATE over the exit. No way out. ERIN winces. Then stifles a cry as she cuts the stitches off her mouth with the knife. Drops the threads on the floor and moves off... CUT TO: INT. POLICE STATION - CAPTAIN'S OFFICE - NIGHT Alex runs past the glass AWARDS CASE, takes a flying leap behind the desk, seeking cover as Madden empties a clip at him. The slide ratchets back. Madden SLAMS another clip in, advances on Alex, hidden behind the shredded desk as... THE SECRETARY clears stuffed birds off the table trying to expose the wounded crow cowering back against the wall. SECRETARY Here pretty bird. Here birdy. WHOP! She grabs it, the Crow flapping desperately as... IN THE CAPTAIN'S OFFICE Madden creeps up on the desk, peers over it. Nothing. Out of nowhere... WAM! Alex rushes Madden, bulldozing him across the room with a pained cry of brute force toward... THE AWARDS CASE CRASH! Glass shatters as Alex hurls Madden, who swivels around in time to get off a last shot BAM! That collapses Alex to the floor. IN THE MYSTERY ROOM The Crow squeezes out of the Secretary's grasp, leaving her holding a couple feathers. AT THE AWARD'S CASE Alex hauls himself off the floor as the Crow joins him. Seeing... MADDEN'S HEAD has taken its place among glass bowls and trophies, half decapitated by the glass shelf it now rests on. Down the shelf from the stuffed bird. ALEX rushes through the blown out window into... Seeing for the first time that Erin is gone, the rope hanging from the ceiling, finding... THE SECRETARY ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- 81. SECRETARY (CONT'D) sitting on the floor, painting her own toenails BLUE, leaning up against the wall. ALEX Where'd they go? Alex eases the Secretary to her feet with a hand around her neck, her back to the wall. She looks UP, smiling at... WALSH - RIGHT ARM MISSING hangs high overhead from some kind of hook. His arm has been crudely removed. Underneath him, on the table, a BOX of 2" surgical stainless steel rods sits by a pool of blood. ALEX yells, reeling, as... The door flies open. A half dozen cops in, all targeting Alex as... THE SECRETARY plunges the Lauren KNIFE in Alex's back. He spins violently THROWING her HARD against the wall. WAM! Surprise!-she sticks. REVEAL, she's impaled on ANTELOPE ANTLERS, hanging off the wall. Her head drops, looking down as a stream of blood flows down her legs, drips off her toes... SECRETARY (dying words) My nails. BAM BAM BAM. The new arrivals open fire. Alex reaches over his shoulder, yanks out the knife with an odd slurping sound as... CUT TO: INT. POLICE STATION - PARKING GARAGE The sound of GUNFIRE filters down from above as the Captain hunts his hidden prey. He stops, studies... ERIN'S POV - LOW ANGLE LOOKING UNDER A CAR The Captain's feet, joined by his hand as he picks up the thread she left on the ground. INCLUDE ERIN SECRETARY reproving herself as she turns toward camera. She looks back under the car, but... The Captain's feet have moved off. Where? She listens, hears nothing. Slips off... NEW ANGLE - ERIN takes refuge in the service area, crouching behind stacks of TIRES. Knife at the ready. ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- 82. The Captain's FOOTSTEPS audible. HER OBSTRUCTED POV between stacks of tires, the Captain, Glock at ready, PASSES BY, moving out of sight. Footsteps RECEDING. Then silent. ERIN Listening, neurons firing. Cranes her neck to see. Nothing. WIDER the Captain appears BEHIND ERIN, over the stacks of tires. She's oblivious, then... Erin wheels, slashes across his wrist. The Glock falls, Erin grabs it, levels it at the Captain. Her finger tense on the trigger. CAPTAIN (re: gun) I know you too well. You won't do it. ERIN You don't know me at all. BAM! She pulls the trigger, simultaneously wrenching the gun, aiming just enough off that... THE CAPTAIN yells in pain, rushes his hand to his ear, a bloody mess. He starts advancing again toward her and Erin pulls... THE TRIGGER again, again, again.

intended

How many times the word 'intended' appears in the text?

Alex starts off... BAM! He's blown back by a shot half lost in the noisy club. No panic yet. ONSTAGE the strippers break character, looking. The audience turns as... ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- 63. NEAR THE ENTRANCE The First Bouncer goes flying above the heads of the crowd, getting off a dramatic SHOT while airborne, inducing... PANDEMONIUM Patrons stampeding as BAM BAM! Alex taking bullets, the miracle lost in the chaotic exit. The Bouncers out of sight underfoot. ON ALEX visible again, back on his feet. Buffeted, stationary as everyone flees. With the exodus still at flood stage... CUT TO: INT. WALSH'S OFFICE - NIGHT ON WALSH, in motion as he puts on a jacket, throws some papers into a briefcase. He's nervous, ill-suited for this cloak and dagger stuff, chattering... WALSH We'll be safe in my car. Nobody will recognize it. Let's move yours in back, no, down the block. Hope it's nothing fancy. There's a chop shop around the corner. She's looking elsewhere, at the door that has quietly opened. The Captain stands there. Somber reptile. Holding a sheaf of papers in one hand. ERIN You followed me here. CAPTAIN No... Erin, I put out a bulletin on your car because... there's bad news. And I thought you should hear it from me. She stares at him expressionless. CAPTAIN (CONT'D) Your father got involved with some bad cops. On my force, so I take responsibility. (beat, then) He killed himself. She talks with great difficulty. ERIN How? CAPTAIN How did he kill himself? She nods. ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- 64. CAPTAIN (CONT'D) With a gun. Is that what you mean? ERIN No. I mean... how did he kill himself How do you figure he killed himself--with a gun, right--when it wasn't anywhere near where you found him? He takes a step toward her. She pulls out the Blood Pistol. Seems crazy enough to use it. ERIN (CONT'D) You killed him. WALSH Erin. Don't. ERIN Back the fuck off! Now! The Captain stops, gently tosses the sheaf of papers toward her, onto Walsh's desk. The papers Nathan was preparing. Walsh looks at them while... CAPTAIN He left this. Names, addresses, a note to you. These people he was involved with killed Lauren. He couldn't bear it anymore. WALSH My God. He's right, it's all here. ERIN The note. Show it to me. Erin has one eye on the papers now, recognizes her dad's hand. The Captain inches forward. ERIN (CONT'D) (to Captain) Not you! (to Walsh) Show it to me. The Captain steps forward, right to the desk. Erin backed into a corner now. CAPTAIN It's right there, under that paper. (grabs a note) Here. Look. She holds a hand out for the note, taking her eye off the situation for one second as she reads... ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- 65. THE NOTE A bunch of numbers added together in her father's hand. Not a suicide note. THE CAPTAIN grabs Erin's wrist and BAM! A chunk of the ceiling falls as the weapon discharges. The Captain throws her in a chokehold, her finger still on the trigger. CAPTAIN (CONT'D) You were always the stupid one. She fights as the Captain wraps his own hand over hers, wrestles her arm toward Walsh, in the sights now. BAM! WALSH blown backward, collapsing by the Chess Board. Trying to pull himself up. Erin struggling. As... MADDEN enters from the hall, in a hurry, gun drawn. MADDEN You need help? He nods toward Walsh, who is moving, barely. CAPTAIN Hurry. We don't have much time. BAM. A shot from Madden drops Walsh for god. As Madden drags Walsh toward the door, the Captain grabs... THE PICTURE OF ALEX AND LAUREN pulled off the lid of the Chess box, one of the pieces of tape left behind. The Captain exits. CUT TO: INT. "THE HOLE" - NIGHT MUSIC STILL POUNDS, lights swirl. But the club has cleared out, leaving human detritus, a handful of casualties from the stampede. WITH ALEX as he steps over the Two Bouncers, expired on the floor. A soft WHIMPERING marks the silence. The girl cuffed onstage. Alex goes up to the terrified girl. Close up, she looks way underage. He gathers her clothes, spots a key on the floor. ALEX How old are you? She listens as he unlocks the cuffs. ALEX (CONT'D) You have one chance to value your life. Take it. ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- 66. He watches as she hightails it out the front door, still half naked. As she leaves... THE CROW appears in the doorway near the broken bodies. Alex takes a deep breath, as if it hurts. The casualties. CAW. The Crow flies on, disappearing into the back rooms. Alex turns, follows... INT. "THE HOLE" - BACKSTAGE - NIGHT Alex moves past the empty makeup table. A lipstick cigarette smolders in an ashtray. People left in a hurry. MUSIC LOUD, as if inside our heads now. Alex continues... INT. "THE HOLE" - INTERNET PORN FACILITY Nobody home. Empty images refreshed every six seconds. Number of hits static now. Alex drawn now by the "No Admittance" Curtain which he approaches slowly, touching it and FLASH! ALEX'S INTERNAL POV - LAUREN looking over her shoulder, pulling back the "No Admittance" Curtain, going where she shouldn't go. ALEX Lauren? You were here? Lauren makes her stealthy way into.... INT. "THE HOLE" - BACK HALL - NIGHT revealed as Alex slips past the Curtain, retracing Lauren's footsteps. CAMERA FOLLOWS Alex CREEPING down the hall to... ALEX'S INTERNAL POV - LAUREN down the hall, peering inside the partially open Back Room door, then turning back startled TOWARD CAMERA as if suddenly overtaken. AT THE DOOR Alex turns back, like Lauren, looks behind him. The hallway is empty. He enters... INT. "THE HOLE" - BACK ROOM - NIGHT Darkness. As Alex gropes for a lightswitch, a LIGHTER FLARES. Toomey and Larkin lean in, light up in synch. Alex takes in the dark fringes, dim reflections off lots of eyes. Not taxidermy specimens. BAM BAM BAM BAM. A dozen police officers lining the walls empty cartridges into Alex in an angry, STROBING fusillade. In the silence that follows... LARKIN (after the fact) Don't move. ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- 67. The gang LAUGHS. Larkin makes his way to a light switch by the door. LARKIN (CONT'D) Drinks are on me. Larkin flips on the low-watt BARE BULBS hanging down past industrial pipes and conduit, casting a dim light on the cinderblock space. NO ALEX. ALEX Cheers. They look up and... BAM! Alex DROPS LARKIN with a shot to the forehead. BAM! He MISSES TOOMEY as bullets from below EXPLODE all around him. Alex scampers across framing as... The BARE BULBS burst, all but one, plunging us back in to near darkness as Alex drops to the ground near Larkin's fallen body. Jacks up the sleeve. No scar. Alex spots Toomey, rolls out as... THREE COPS pump rounds into Alex. BAM! Alex takes the middle Cop out, a TOONEY-LIKE GUY who falls onto Toomey, behind him. ALEX turns, forced to defend himself as FULL AUTO FIRE breaks open, the other flank, more advancing cops. While... TOOMEY crawls out from under the fallen copy, then backs out the door on hands and knees while... A FINAL EXPLOSIVE FUSILLADE leaves only Alex standing. As the echoes dissolve... Alex Alex moves to where Toomey was, bends down to check the body... THE NAMEPLATE - "TOOMEY" But the pin isn't fastened properly. The badge askew. RESUME - ALEX rolls the body over, finds another nameplate underneath. "Hauser." Heads off in search of... ALEX (CONT'D) Toomey! INT - "THE HOLE" - INTERNET PORN FACILITY - NIGHT Toomey is clearing the "No Admittance" curtain when... ALEX You dripped something! Toomey panics as he approaches... ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- 68. INTERNET FANTASY SETS Monitors still updating every six seconds. Toomey hears Alex coming, slips through the "Dungeon." BEHIND THE SHOWER FANTASY SET Toomey takes refuge out of sight, next to a GAS HOT WATER HEATER, quiet as a mouse. ALEX tears the "No Admittance" curtain completely off its rod, arriving at the fantasy sets just in time to see... THE DUNGEON MONITOR Toomey (frozen) scurrying through. Gone now as the monitor updates. Then Alex appears, following him through the set... WITH ALEX moving to the rear of the "dungeon," on Toomey's heels. WAM. Toomey hits him full force with A PIPE, sending Alex sprawling backward, COLLAPSING the flimsy Shower set. WAM. Toomey swings again, misses Alex, but connects with... THE GAS LINE to the water heater ripped out by the blow. HISS. The sound of gas, loud, as the line breaks. RESUME Alex straddles Toomey, just as Toomey manages to get his gun pointed in Alex's face. Hissing gas nearby. CLICK. Toomey cocks the gun. ALEX (CONT'D) Spark, gas... bad combination. And it's not this leak here, that's the least of your worries. WAM! Alex swings Toomey's pipe HARD at a much bigger GAS LINE right behind the gas heater, leaving it badly cracked. The hiss magnified 100% nos. ALEX (CONT'D) We're going to play a little game called "Who's got the Scar." TOOMEY What Scar? What fucking scar? ALEX (buzzer sound) AAAANK. That's not how we play the game. Alex jacks Toomey's sleeve down. No Scar. Alex pissed as Toomey locks eyes with him. Really seeing him now. TOOMEY You're him! You're Corvis! We fried your ass. You're dead, man! ALEX Good thing in a situation like this. We pick up... ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- 69. INT. "THE HOLE" - BACK ROOM - NIGHT Some light filters in as a door opens to the outside. A FIGURE enters, squats among the bodies. He leans in, closes larkin's eyes, and we see... It's Madden. Blood on his hands. He hears Alex's VOICE faintly, then Toomey cries out in pain. Madden moves toward... INT. "THE HOLE" - INTERNET PORN FACILITY - NIGHT Madden creeps down the hallway to the back room. VOICES growing louder. TOOMEY Fucking Zombie. ALEX The scar. TOOMEY There is no scar. I'm telling you. As Madden moves toward the conversation, his face registers the slightest of smiles. MADDEN'S CREEPING POV MONITORS obliquely visible as he reaches the end of the hall by the Fantasy sets. The "Shower" monitor shows Alex and Toomey, visible through the trashed set, updated every six seconds. MADDEN SNIFFS gas. The HISS now audible along with Alex's voice. Madden smiles. Pulls out his 9mm. And BACKS UP, away from the Fantasy Sets toward the back room. Madden takes aim at... THE FIRST MONITOR The images is Alex threatening Toomey. Updating now--LOSING ALEX on the Monitor as he steps into frame in person, looks up and BAM! CROWVISION a speeding bullet passes narrowly by and... ANGLE - GROUND ZERO as the bullet hits the monitor in a shower of sparks, followed by... BOOM! A ROILING FIREBALL Seems to vaporize Alex before flying down the hallway right at CAMERA. Madden manages a couple steps in retreat before it blows him into the back room with a deafening roar. EXT. "THE HOLE" - INFERNO - NIGHT BOOM! Windows blow out in a gas fired inferno. A body flung out the rear door. BOOM! ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- 70. EXT. "THE HOLE" - NIGHT Interior/exterior being less meaningful than seconds ago. Walls crumbled, roof blown off. BRIGHT FIRE consumes the frame, consumes the bodies of downed cops, consumes every last bit of oxygen and life. Distant SIRENS draw closer. A SLOW SCAN, someone's OBSTRUCTED POV of Hell. INCLUDE ALEX watching from under a collapsed cinderblock wall that offers some protection from the flames, if not the heat. He looks, intent now, spotting... THE ARM WITH THE ZIGZAG SCARIFICATION sticking out of the rubble, murky through the flames, growing clearer as camera PUSHES, flames licking at it... ALEX tries to move toward the arm. Forced back by too- intense flame as another beam falls, the rubble shifts and... THE ARM WITH THE ZIGZAG SCARIFICATION skeletal now, baked down to bones. A dozen short metal rods on the ground under it. He picks a few up. THE CAPTAIN drawn now to... UNDER THE RUBBLE - WHERE ALEX WAS water dripping off the concrete, collecting in the place where Alex hid. But he's long gone. The Captain drops the rods. Satisfied it's over. CUT TO: EXT. CITY STREET #5 - NIGHT Alex staggers along in bad shape. Up ahead... A GIRL in her twenties exits a building down a flight of stairs, waits at the bottom for her BOYFRIEND, who's locking the door. She sees Alex, gives him an empathetic look. Alex walks slowly closer. ALEX'S INTERNAL POV Lauren appearing to him, playing their game. But the words are wrong, distorted. LAUREN Your witness list is no match for my kung fu. Her Bruce Lee "Oooo" a siren call. RESUME Alex moving slowly forward on the street, drawn toward the girl who watches with horrified fascination. ALEX I'm losing you. ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- 71. ALEX'S INTERNAL POV LAUREN Your zigzag love scar is no match for... Lauren and Alex drawing very close now when... RESUME WAM. A FIST clocks Alex in the face, dropping him hard onto the pavement. GIRL Did you have to do that? BOYFRIEND How about "thank you." GIRL He's bleeding. ALEX I don't bleed. BOYFRIEND And delirious. Better steer clear. ALEX'S POV The Guy wraps his arm protectively around the girl, walks her off. Running into a COP at the next intersection. They POINT at... ALEX takes off, ducking into an alley. Confused. CAMERA CREEPS BACKWARD as he gathers his thoughts. CUT TO: INT. WALSH'S OFFICE - NIGHT RATTLE RATTLE. Alex's shadow visible through the frosted glass, jostling the locked door. ALEX Erin! SMASH. His arm PUNCHES through the glass, turn the knob. Alex enters, arm bleeding badly. He yanks a large piece of glass from his flesh. Painful. Alex registers that the rules have changed. He finds a necktie of Walsh's, uses it to bind the wound, staunch the flow. He scans the room again looking for... Something. But everything seems ok. He passes... The Chess Box, the picture of Lauren and Alex gone. Just a piece of TAPE left, sticking to the top of the open lid. ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- 72. OVER THE CHESS BOARD - ALEX the missing pic lost on him, drawn to the chess board where Walsh collapsed. Something wrong with the game. He finds... THE BLACK KING Off the board. On top of a stack of news clippings lying on the floor. Alex picks it up, LEAVING a RING OF BLOOD under. CAMERA PUSHES on the clipping underneath, the headline "City Leaders Vow Crackdown in Wake of Randall Murder." PUSHING, finding among the City Leaders... ALEX (CONT'D) The King. THE CAPTAIN'S FACE circled in blood. Camera continues to PUSH on the grainy newsprint, through it, until all we see are halftone pixels and the picture loses meaning. EXT. CITY - AIRBORNE - NIGHT The Police Station in sinister CROWVISION as we approach, swoop in and... INT. POLICE STATION - HALLWAY Alex walks the long approach to the Captain's office, past the empty Secretary's desk. KICKING the door open CRASH! into... INT. POLICE STATION - CAPTAIN'S OFFICE The Captain works alone at his desk under a standing lamp. Looks up unconcerned as Alex enters, walks to the desk, and SLAPS down the ring-of-blood clipping. CAPTAIN I hate that picture. ALEX Where are they? CAPTAIN Can I get you something? A glass of water? A transfusion? ALEX Where are they? Last chance. CAPTAIN Or what? You'll bleed all over my carpet? The Captain rises. CAPTAIN (CONT'D) You know crime was actually down until you showed up, or stuck (MORE) ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- 73. CAPTAIN (CONT'D) around, or whatever the hell you're doing here. (then) What are you doing here? ALEX I'm looking for my friends. CAPTAIN See, I heard you were looking for some guy with a scar. How's that going? You find him? Yes? No? Alex tenses as the Captain starts toward him. CAPTAIN (CONT'D) You are like the guest who would not leave, you know that? And judging from your condition, maybe you've overstayed your welcome. That's not a criticism. Just an observation. Alex draws the knife from his clothes. CAPTAIN (CONT'D) I don't think you're going to use it. That's Lauren's knife. Enraged, Alex SWIPES the knife. The Captain grabs his arm right at the blood soaked necktie, squeezes hard. Alex writhes in pain. In each other's faces now. CAPTAIN (CONT'D) You come in here al lfull of righteous indignation, but what have you got to be righteous about? THE KNIFE starting to fall from Alex's hand as the Captain continues to clamp down on his wound. CAPTAIN (CONT'D) How many innocent people did you leave dead back there? ALEX You sent them. I had no choice. CAPTAIN Bullshit. You're a killer, that's all you are. A clown with a bird and a rising death toll. You think the world did you wrong?! You did the world wrong. The Captain snatches the knife, RAMS it into Alex's midriff. ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- 74. CAPTAIN (CONT'D) You and Lauren had a fight. You couldn't let it go. FLASH EXT. OLD GROWTH GROVE - DAY ALEX'S INTERNAL POV Lauren in tears in Alex's car. LAUREN I can't say. ALEX He grabs for her. She pulls violently away. LAUREN Don't touch me! RESUME INT. POLICE STATION - CAPTAIN'S OFFICE - NIGHT WHOOMP. Another stab into Alex. There will be fifty three. CAPTAIN It was one thing her dad rejected you. But when she did you lost it. ALEX You're wrong. CAPTAIN Yeah? I see doubt oozing out your arm. Where do people go when they kill their girlfriends? FLASH ALEX'S INTERNAL POV Alex back at the inferno, cowering from flames. RESUME The Captain full of righteous conviction. CAPTAIN (CONT'D) Screwed up kid stabs her fifty three times. Where would he end up? The Captain bent over Alex, stabbing him. ALEX'S INTERNAL POV (INTERCUT WITH PREVIOUS) FLASHES move us backward along the path we've taken so far, a tour of hell on earth, the blast of infernal winds and the ever-present voice of the Captain, condemning. CAPTAIN'S VOICE Take a look! Strippers writhe at "The Hole." ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- 75. CAPTAIN'S VOICE (CONT'D) That's who you are! The Porsche explodes. CAPTAIN'S VOICE (CONT'D) You sick fuck! Look at it! Alex blasts Dutton. BAM! CAPTAIN'S VOICE (CONT'D) Every loser name anyone ever called you was true! Alex escapes the taser. Mercer drops. CAPTAIN'S VOICE (CONT'D) Are you looking? Answer me! Time SCREECHING to a halt, all the movement converging on a single, quiet image. One we've seen before... Alex in the chair. But his last words are different. ALEX I loved Lauren. I never meant to hurt her. ZAP. Electro-spasm as the switch is thrown. No scar, no meltdown, just violent fibrillations that moderate, finally as we MATCH TO... RESUME - THE CAPTAIN'S OFFICE The Captain shaking Alex, holding something in front of Alex's face. CAPTAIN You see it? Huh? Did you see it? Alex's eye's gone dead, no longer seeing... THE PHOTO - LAUREN AND ALEX IN THE WOODS arms around each other. Familiar, but on second take, it's like the crime scene photos... Lauren's NECK is SLASHED, her body riddled with stab wounds. Alex has a big smile on his face, his arm around her, her head on his shoulder. 100% sociopath. RESUME CAPTAIN (CONT'D) Yeah. I think you fucking saw it. The Captain drops Alex lifeless and bloody to the floor. Only the sound of the Captain panting now, then... The sound of slow clapping. Madden walks into the room from behind perimeter curtains. CLAP CLAP CLAP. ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- 76. MADDEN You were right. Picture's worth a thousand words. Madden kicks Alex lightly, nudging him. No life signes. The Captain rips the picture in two. Tosses it in the trash. CAPTAIN Just don't believe everything you see. MADDEN Doubt is a motherfucker. CAPTAIN Give me a hand with this sack of shit. INT. MYSTERY ROOM - NIGHT NEW ANGLE - THROUGH A WINDOW DARKLY Madden and the Captain grab Alex, one at each end. SECRETARY He's cute. Was cute. REVEAL, this is the Secretary's POV through the window. She's bent over someone's toes, painting them BLUE. WIDE. The Mystery Room revealed. Taxidermy specimens line the wall and the table. Erin stands in PROFILE in the middle of the room, strangely silent, hands tied overhead by a rope that runs to the ceiling. The Secretary brushing polish on Erin's toes. SECRETARY (CONT'D) But the face, well, makeup can work for you or against you. Right? The Secretary applies a last flourish of polish, then stands, kisses Erin gently. SECRETARY (CONT'D) All done. Very nice. (then) You're a good listener. The Secretary moves off REVEALING... ERIN'S FACE MOUTH SEWN shut in a rough zigzag stitch, like the scar. Her eyes dart as... THE DOOR opens. The Captain and Madden carry Alex in. Madden sweeps the TAXIDERMY SPECIMENS back with his hand, clearing a space for Alex on the table. Among them... ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- 77. THE CROW on its Corvus Brachyrhynchos stand takes a small hop backward, this sign of life unnoticed as... RESUME WHUMP. Alex heaved onto the table. MADDEN So was he dead? Or alive? The Secretary puts her ear to Alex's lifeless lips. CAPTAIN I've seen birds stuffed and mounted so lifelike you'd swear you saw them breathing. This reminds him... he looks at the Crow on the stand. Lifeless, stuffed. As it should be. CAPTAIN (CONT'D) Maybe we had a case of that here. (to Secretary) Get me my kit. MADDEN You two are majorly demented. Anyone ever tell you that? The Secretary steps off to grab thekit, leaving Alex's lifeless open eyes pointing toward Erin, reflected in his eyeballs first before... ANGLE - ERIN looking up at her own hands, bound above her as she eases them apart and... The HEART SHAPED LOCKET slips from between her palms and she closes them again in time to catch the chain, the locket swinging. ON THE TABLE X-CLOSE. The locket reflected in Alex's lifeless open eyes a second before... The Secretary returns, blocking the sightline. Lays out the Kit, nasty looking tools left over from the Inquisition. Then unbuttons Alex's tattered shirt, undressing him for the procedure. Stab wounds everywhere. SECRETARY Fifty three? CAPTAIN In all the excitement I kind of lost count. (then) I think I'll mount him with his head up his ass. A large KNIFE, the Lauren murder weapon, angles in at the base of Alex'sneck where the Secretary's head was. ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- 78. THE CROW - OVERCRANKED moves on the table. Takes flight. THE TRIO turn toward the commotion. CAPTAIN (CONT'D) Grab it! THE LOCKET - OVERCRANKED Snatched in midair by the Crow from Erin's praying hands. FLASH! ALEX/CROW'S INTERNAL POV HIGH ANGLE CROWVISION. Dim memories from the woods. Anamorphic and dark. Two figures--Alex and Erin--kneeling. RESUME - THE LOCKET released from the Crow's beak, passing through the TRIO'S HANDS uncaught, bouncing off Alex onto the table, in front of his open eyes. ALEX/CROW'S INTERNAL POV FLASH. AT GROUND LEVEL. Alex fastens the LOCKET around her neck. The distortion lessening, becoming Alex's POV. ALEX ... it connects you to me... FLASH. ERIN No matter what happens... you're innocent... I promise... FLASH. Alex painting her face. RESUME Alex BLINKS. The Captain reacts--oh shit--starts to bring the knife down, a hurried strike at Alex's chest. WAM! Alex grabs the Captain's arm in his hand, stopping the movement on a dime. ALEX All lies. Everything you ever showed me. MADDEN pulls a gun, points it at Erin. ALEX jumps up, flying INTO the gun as it goes off. CRASH! They tumble THROUGH THE WINDOW into the Captain's office while... THE CAPTAIN cuts down the rope holding Erin. She collapses... ON THE TABLE strewn with blades, secreting one between her hands, in the second before... THE CAPTAIN drags Erin off. The Secretary flails at the Crow with a metal ROD, while... IN THE CAPTAIN'S OFFICE Madden has the gun on Alex now. BAM! No effect. BAM! ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- 79. Madden sweating it now, continuing to shoot with no effect as... THE MYSTERY ROOM The Secretary finally connects with the Crow, batting it against the wall, noticing this coincides with... Alex goes flying against the desk, winged himself. Madden c Onfused, not understanding. SECRETARY (O.S.) It's the bird! Kill it! Madden wheels, points the gun through the busted-out picture window into... The SECRETARY dives for cover as bullets explode around her. The Crow dancing, sprayed with debris. CUT TO: INT. POLICE STATION - ELEVATOR - NIGHT CLOSE. Floor lights sequence above the door, heading for underground parking. "5 - 4 - 3..." The Captain watches the lights. Erin is slumped face first against the side of the elevator opposite him. CAPTAIN You brought him back. Good. He owes you. We'll stick together, you and I. ON ERIN face pressed against the elevator wall, intent. CAPTAIN (CONT'D) Seen but not heard. They ought to make it a law. Erin winces, looks down... THE BLADE emerging from her sleeve as she tries to hold it with her two bound hands. DING. The elevator jerks to a stop. THE CAPTAIN grabs her off the floor and she RAMS the blade into his abdomen with the force of the entire body. Twists it. The elevator doors open. ERIN pulls out the blade, claws her way out the door, the Captain hanging on to her, finally getting free as she swipes at him again, drawing fresh blood. Running now, into... INT. POLICE STATION - PARKING GARAGE - NIGHT Erin stumbles between cars in the dark underground garage, cutting the cord off her hands, leaving it behind as... ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- 80. Behind her, the Captain unsteady on his feet, a wounded animal. He pulls out a GLOCK 9MM and KA-CHUNK. Cycles it. Erin dives between cars, scrambling on hands and knees. Looks around. HER POV - SCANNING a small garage with a few police cruisers by a SERVICE AREA and no people. A barred GATE over the exit. No way out. ERIN winces. Then stifles a cry as she cuts the stitches off her mouth with the knife. Drops the threads on the floor and moves off... CUT TO: INT. POLICE STATION - CAPTAIN'S OFFICE - NIGHT Alex runs past the glass AWARDS CASE, takes a flying leap behind the desk, seeking cover as Madden empties a clip at him. The slide ratchets back. Madden SLAMS another clip in, advances on Alex, hidden behind the shredded desk as... THE SECRETARY clears stuffed birds off the table trying to expose the wounded crow cowering back against the wall. SECRETARY Here pretty bird. Here birdy. WHOP! She grabs it, the Crow flapping desperately as... IN THE CAPTAIN'S OFFICE Madden creeps up on the desk, peers over it. Nothing. Out of nowhere... WAM! Alex rushes Madden, bulldozing him across the room with a pained cry of brute force toward... THE AWARDS CASE CRASH! Glass shatters as Alex hurls Madden, who swivels around in time to get off a last shot BAM! That collapses Alex to the floor. IN THE MYSTERY ROOM The Crow squeezes out of the Secretary's grasp, leaving her holding a couple feathers. AT THE AWARD'S CASE Alex hauls himself off the floor as the Crow joins him. Seeing... MADDEN'S HEAD has taken its place among glass bowls and trophies, half decapitated by the glass shelf it now rests on. Down the shelf from the stuffed bird. ALEX rushes through the blown out window into... Seeing for the first time that Erin is gone, the rope hanging from the ceiling, finding... THE SECRETARY ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- 81. SECRETARY (CONT'D) sitting on the floor, painting her own toenails BLUE, leaning up against the wall. ALEX Where'd they go? Alex eases the Secretary to her feet with a hand around her neck, her back to the wall. She looks UP, smiling at... WALSH - RIGHT ARM MISSING hangs high overhead from some kind of hook. His arm has been crudely removed. Underneath him, on the table, a BOX of 2" surgical stainless steel rods sits by a pool of blood. ALEX yells, reeling, as... The door flies open. A half dozen cops in, all targeting Alex as... THE SECRETARY plunges the Lauren KNIFE in Alex's back. He spins violently THROWING her HARD against the wall. WAM! Surprise!-she sticks. REVEAL, she's impaled on ANTELOPE ANTLERS, hanging off the wall. Her head drops, looking down as a stream of blood flows down her legs, drips off her toes... SECRETARY (dying words) My nails. BAM BAM BAM. The new arrivals open fire. Alex reaches over his shoulder, yanks out the knife with an odd slurping sound as... CUT TO: INT. POLICE STATION - PARKING GARAGE The sound of GUNFIRE filters down from above as the Captain hunts his hidden prey. He stops, studies... ERIN'S POV - LOW ANGLE LOOKING UNDER A CAR The Captain's feet, joined by his hand as he picks up the thread she left on the ground. INCLUDE ERIN SECRETARY reproving herself as she turns toward camera. She looks back under the car, but... The Captain's feet have moved off. Where? She listens, hears nothing. Slips off... NEW ANGLE - ERIN takes refuge in the service area, crouching behind stacks of TIRES. Knife at the ready. ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- 82. The Captain's FOOTSTEPS audible. HER OBSTRUCTED POV between stacks of tires, the Captain, Glock at ready, PASSES BY, moving out of sight. Footsteps RECEDING. Then silent. ERIN Listening, neurons firing. Cranes her neck to see. Nothing. WIDER the Captain appears BEHIND ERIN, over the stacks of tires. She's oblivious, then... Erin wheels, slashes across his wrist. The Glock falls, Erin grabs it, levels it at the Captain. Her finger tense on the trigger. CAPTAIN (re: gun) I know you too well. You won't do it. ERIN You don't know me at all. BAM! She pulls the trigger, simultaneously wrenching the gun, aiming just enough off that... THE CAPTAIN yells in pain, rushes his hand to his ear, a bloody mess. He starts advancing again toward her and Erin pulls... THE TRIGGER again, again, again.

peering

How many times the word 'peering' appears in the text?

Alex starts off... BAM! He's blown back by a shot half lost in the noisy club. No panic yet. ONSTAGE the strippers break character, looking. The audience turns as... ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- 63. NEAR THE ENTRANCE The First Bouncer goes flying above the heads of the crowd, getting off a dramatic SHOT while airborne, inducing... PANDEMONIUM Patrons stampeding as BAM BAM! Alex taking bullets, the miracle lost in the chaotic exit. The Bouncers out of sight underfoot. ON ALEX visible again, back on his feet. Buffeted, stationary as everyone flees. With the exodus still at flood stage... CUT TO: INT. WALSH'S OFFICE - NIGHT ON WALSH, in motion as he puts on a jacket, throws some papers into a briefcase. He's nervous, ill-suited for this cloak and dagger stuff, chattering... WALSH We'll be safe in my car. Nobody will recognize it. Let's move yours in back, no, down the block. Hope it's nothing fancy. There's a chop shop around the corner. She's looking elsewhere, at the door that has quietly opened. The Captain stands there. Somber reptile. Holding a sheaf of papers in one hand. ERIN You followed me here. CAPTAIN No... Erin, I put out a bulletin on your car because... there's bad news. And I thought you should hear it from me. She stares at him expressionless. CAPTAIN (CONT'D) Your father got involved with some bad cops. On my force, so I take responsibility. (beat, then) He killed himself. She talks with great difficulty. ERIN How? CAPTAIN How did he kill himself? She nods. ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- 64. CAPTAIN (CONT'D) With a gun. Is that what you mean? ERIN No. I mean... how did he kill himself How do you figure he killed himself--with a gun, right--when it wasn't anywhere near where you found him? He takes a step toward her. She pulls out the Blood Pistol. Seems crazy enough to use it. ERIN (CONT'D) You killed him. WALSH Erin. Don't. ERIN Back the fuck off! Now! The Captain stops, gently tosses the sheaf of papers toward her, onto Walsh's desk. The papers Nathan was preparing. Walsh looks at them while... CAPTAIN He left this. Names, addresses, a note to you. These people he was involved with killed Lauren. He couldn't bear it anymore. WALSH My God. He's right, it's all here. ERIN The note. Show it to me. Erin has one eye on the papers now, recognizes her dad's hand. The Captain inches forward. ERIN (CONT'D) (to Captain) Not you! (to Walsh) Show it to me. The Captain steps forward, right to the desk. Erin backed into a corner now. CAPTAIN It's right there, under that paper. (grabs a note) Here. Look. She holds a hand out for the note, taking her eye off the situation for one second as she reads... ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- 65. THE NOTE A bunch of numbers added together in her father's hand. Not a suicide note. THE CAPTAIN grabs Erin's wrist and BAM! A chunk of the ceiling falls as the weapon discharges. The Captain throws her in a chokehold, her finger still on the trigger. CAPTAIN (CONT'D) You were always the stupid one. She fights as the Captain wraps his own hand over hers, wrestles her arm toward Walsh, in the sights now. BAM! WALSH blown backward, collapsing by the Chess Board. Trying to pull himself up. Erin struggling. As... MADDEN enters from the hall, in a hurry, gun drawn. MADDEN You need help? He nods toward Walsh, who is moving, barely. CAPTAIN Hurry. We don't have much time. BAM. A shot from Madden drops Walsh for god. As Madden drags Walsh toward the door, the Captain grabs... THE PICTURE OF ALEX AND LAUREN pulled off the lid of the Chess box, one of the pieces of tape left behind. The Captain exits. CUT TO: INT. "THE HOLE" - NIGHT MUSIC STILL POUNDS, lights swirl. But the club has cleared out, leaving human detritus, a handful of casualties from the stampede. WITH ALEX as he steps over the Two Bouncers, expired on the floor. A soft WHIMPERING marks the silence. The girl cuffed onstage. Alex goes up to the terrified girl. Close up, she looks way underage. He gathers her clothes, spots a key on the floor. ALEX How old are you? She listens as he unlocks the cuffs. ALEX (CONT'D) You have one chance to value your life. Take it. ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- 66. He watches as she hightails it out the front door, still half naked. As she leaves... THE CROW appears in the doorway near the broken bodies. Alex takes a deep breath, as if it hurts. The casualties. CAW. The Crow flies on, disappearing into the back rooms. Alex turns, follows... INT. "THE HOLE" - BACKSTAGE - NIGHT Alex moves past the empty makeup table. A lipstick cigarette smolders in an ashtray. People left in a hurry. MUSIC LOUD, as if inside our heads now. Alex continues... INT. "THE HOLE" - INTERNET PORN FACILITY Nobody home. Empty images refreshed every six seconds. Number of hits static now. Alex drawn now by the "No Admittance" Curtain which he approaches slowly, touching it and FLASH! ALEX'S INTERNAL POV - LAUREN looking over her shoulder, pulling back the "No Admittance" Curtain, going where she shouldn't go. ALEX Lauren? You were here? Lauren makes her stealthy way into.... INT. "THE HOLE" - BACK HALL - NIGHT revealed as Alex slips past the Curtain, retracing Lauren's footsteps. CAMERA FOLLOWS Alex CREEPING down the hall to... ALEX'S INTERNAL POV - LAUREN down the hall, peering inside the partially open Back Room door, then turning back startled TOWARD CAMERA as if suddenly overtaken. AT THE DOOR Alex turns back, like Lauren, looks behind him. The hallway is empty. He enters... INT. "THE HOLE" - BACK ROOM - NIGHT Darkness. As Alex gropes for a lightswitch, a LIGHTER FLARES. Toomey and Larkin lean in, light up in synch. Alex takes in the dark fringes, dim reflections off lots of eyes. Not taxidermy specimens. BAM BAM BAM BAM. A dozen police officers lining the walls empty cartridges into Alex in an angry, STROBING fusillade. In the silence that follows... LARKIN (after the fact) Don't move. ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- 67. The gang LAUGHS. Larkin makes his way to a light switch by the door. LARKIN (CONT'D) Drinks are on me. Larkin flips on the low-watt BARE BULBS hanging down past industrial pipes and conduit, casting a dim light on the cinderblock space. NO ALEX. ALEX Cheers. They look up and... BAM! Alex DROPS LARKIN with a shot to the forehead. BAM! He MISSES TOOMEY as bullets from below EXPLODE all around him. Alex scampers across framing as... The BARE BULBS burst, all but one, plunging us back in to near darkness as Alex drops to the ground near Larkin's fallen body. Jacks up the sleeve. No scar. Alex spots Toomey, rolls out as... THREE COPS pump rounds into Alex. BAM! Alex takes the middle Cop out, a TOONEY-LIKE GUY who falls onto Toomey, behind him. ALEX turns, forced to defend himself as FULL AUTO FIRE breaks open, the other flank, more advancing cops. While... TOOMEY crawls out from under the fallen copy, then backs out the door on hands and knees while... A FINAL EXPLOSIVE FUSILLADE leaves only Alex standing. As the echoes dissolve... Alex Alex moves to where Toomey was, bends down to check the body... THE NAMEPLATE - "TOOMEY" But the pin isn't fastened properly. The badge askew. RESUME - ALEX rolls the body over, finds another nameplate underneath. "Hauser." Heads off in search of... ALEX (CONT'D) Toomey! INT - "THE HOLE" - INTERNET PORN FACILITY - NIGHT Toomey is clearing the "No Admittance" curtain when... ALEX You dripped something! Toomey panics as he approaches... ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- 68. INTERNET FANTASY SETS Monitors still updating every six seconds. Toomey hears Alex coming, slips through the "Dungeon." BEHIND THE SHOWER FANTASY SET Toomey takes refuge out of sight, next to a GAS HOT WATER HEATER, quiet as a mouse. ALEX tears the "No Admittance" curtain completely off its rod, arriving at the fantasy sets just in time to see... THE DUNGEON MONITOR Toomey (frozen) scurrying through. Gone now as the monitor updates. Then Alex appears, following him through the set... WITH ALEX moving to the rear of the "dungeon," on Toomey's heels. WAM. Toomey hits him full force with A PIPE, sending Alex sprawling backward, COLLAPSING the flimsy Shower set. WAM. Toomey swings again, misses Alex, but connects with... THE GAS LINE to the water heater ripped out by the blow. HISS. The sound of gas, loud, as the line breaks. RESUME Alex straddles Toomey, just as Toomey manages to get his gun pointed in Alex's face. Hissing gas nearby. CLICK. Toomey cocks the gun. ALEX (CONT'D) Spark, gas... bad combination. And it's not this leak here, that's the least of your worries. WAM! Alex swings Toomey's pipe HARD at a much bigger GAS LINE right behind the gas heater, leaving it badly cracked. The hiss magnified 100% nos. ALEX (CONT'D) We're going to play a little game called "Who's got the Scar." TOOMEY What Scar? What fucking scar? ALEX (buzzer sound) AAAANK. That's not how we play the game. Alex jacks Toomey's sleeve down. No Scar. Alex pissed as Toomey locks eyes with him. Really seeing him now. TOOMEY You're him! You're Corvis! We fried your ass. You're dead, man! ALEX Good thing in a situation like this. We pick up... ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- 69. INT. "THE HOLE" - BACK ROOM - NIGHT Some light filters in as a door opens to the outside. A FIGURE enters, squats among the bodies. He leans in, closes larkin's eyes, and we see... It's Madden. Blood on his hands. He hears Alex's VOICE faintly, then Toomey cries out in pain. Madden moves toward... INT. "THE HOLE" - INTERNET PORN FACILITY - NIGHT Madden creeps down the hallway to the back room. VOICES growing louder. TOOMEY Fucking Zombie. ALEX The scar. TOOMEY There is no scar. I'm telling you. As Madden moves toward the conversation, his face registers the slightest of smiles. MADDEN'S CREEPING POV MONITORS obliquely visible as he reaches the end of the hall by the Fantasy sets. The "Shower" monitor shows Alex and Toomey, visible through the trashed set, updated every six seconds. MADDEN SNIFFS gas. The HISS now audible along with Alex's voice. Madden smiles. Pulls out his 9mm. And BACKS UP, away from the Fantasy Sets toward the back room. Madden takes aim at... THE FIRST MONITOR The images is Alex threatening Toomey. Updating now--LOSING ALEX on the Monitor as he steps into frame in person, looks up and BAM! CROWVISION a speeding bullet passes narrowly by and... ANGLE - GROUND ZERO as the bullet hits the monitor in a shower of sparks, followed by... BOOM! A ROILING FIREBALL Seems to vaporize Alex before flying down the hallway right at CAMERA. Madden manages a couple steps in retreat before it blows him into the back room with a deafening roar. EXT. "THE HOLE" - INFERNO - NIGHT BOOM! Windows blow out in a gas fired inferno. A body flung out the rear door. BOOM! ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- 70. EXT. "THE HOLE" - NIGHT Interior/exterior being less meaningful than seconds ago. Walls crumbled, roof blown off. BRIGHT FIRE consumes the frame, consumes the bodies of downed cops, consumes every last bit of oxygen and life. Distant SIRENS draw closer. A SLOW SCAN, someone's OBSTRUCTED POV of Hell. INCLUDE ALEX watching from under a collapsed cinderblock wall that offers some protection from the flames, if not the heat. He looks, intent now, spotting... THE ARM WITH THE ZIGZAG SCARIFICATION sticking out of the rubble, murky through the flames, growing clearer as camera PUSHES, flames licking at it... ALEX tries to move toward the arm. Forced back by too- intense flame as another beam falls, the rubble shifts and... THE ARM WITH THE ZIGZAG SCARIFICATION skeletal now, baked down to bones. A dozen short metal rods on the ground under it. He picks a few up. THE CAPTAIN drawn now to... UNDER THE RUBBLE - WHERE ALEX WAS water dripping off the concrete, collecting in the place where Alex hid. But he's long gone. The Captain drops the rods. Satisfied it's over. CUT TO: EXT. CITY STREET #5 - NIGHT Alex staggers along in bad shape. Up ahead... A GIRL in her twenties exits a building down a flight of stairs, waits at the bottom for her BOYFRIEND, who's locking the door. She sees Alex, gives him an empathetic look. Alex walks slowly closer. ALEX'S INTERNAL POV Lauren appearing to him, playing their game. But the words are wrong, distorted. LAUREN Your witness list is no match for my kung fu. Her Bruce Lee "Oooo" a siren call. RESUME Alex moving slowly forward on the street, drawn toward the girl who watches with horrified fascination. ALEX I'm losing you. ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- 71. ALEX'S INTERNAL POV LAUREN Your zigzag love scar is no match for... Lauren and Alex drawing very close now when... RESUME WAM. A FIST clocks Alex in the face, dropping him hard onto the pavement. GIRL Did you have to do that? BOYFRIEND How about "thank you." GIRL He's bleeding. ALEX I don't bleed. BOYFRIEND And delirious. Better steer clear. ALEX'S POV The Guy wraps his arm protectively around the girl, walks her off. Running into a COP at the next intersection. They POINT at... ALEX takes off, ducking into an alley. Confused. CAMERA CREEPS BACKWARD as he gathers his thoughts. CUT TO: INT. WALSH'S OFFICE - NIGHT RATTLE RATTLE. Alex's shadow visible through the frosted glass, jostling the locked door. ALEX Erin! SMASH. His arm PUNCHES through the glass, turn the knob. Alex enters, arm bleeding badly. He yanks a large piece of glass from his flesh. Painful. Alex registers that the rules have changed. He finds a necktie of Walsh's, uses it to bind the wound, staunch the flow. He scans the room again looking for... Something. But everything seems ok. He passes... The Chess Box, the picture of Lauren and Alex gone. Just a piece of TAPE left, sticking to the top of the open lid. ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- 72. OVER THE CHESS BOARD - ALEX the missing pic lost on him, drawn to the chess board where Walsh collapsed. Something wrong with the game. He finds... THE BLACK KING Off the board. On top of a stack of news clippings lying on the floor. Alex picks it up, LEAVING a RING OF BLOOD under. CAMERA PUSHES on the clipping underneath, the headline "City Leaders Vow Crackdown in Wake of Randall Murder." PUSHING, finding among the City Leaders... ALEX (CONT'D) The King. THE CAPTAIN'S FACE circled in blood. Camera continues to PUSH on the grainy newsprint, through it, until all we see are halftone pixels and the picture loses meaning. EXT. CITY - AIRBORNE - NIGHT The Police Station in sinister CROWVISION as we approach, swoop in and... INT. POLICE STATION - HALLWAY Alex walks the long approach to the Captain's office, past the empty Secretary's desk. KICKING the door open CRASH! into... INT. POLICE STATION - CAPTAIN'S OFFICE The Captain works alone at his desk under a standing lamp. Looks up unconcerned as Alex enters, walks to the desk, and SLAPS down the ring-of-blood clipping. CAPTAIN I hate that picture. ALEX Where are they? CAPTAIN Can I get you something? A glass of water? A transfusion? ALEX Where are they? Last chance. CAPTAIN Or what? You'll bleed all over my carpet? The Captain rises. CAPTAIN (CONT'D) You know crime was actually down until you showed up, or stuck (MORE) ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- 73. CAPTAIN (CONT'D) around, or whatever the hell you're doing here. (then) What are you doing here? ALEX I'm looking for my friends. CAPTAIN See, I heard you were looking for some guy with a scar. How's that going? You find him? Yes? No? Alex tenses as the Captain starts toward him. CAPTAIN (CONT'D) You are like the guest who would not leave, you know that? And judging from your condition, maybe you've overstayed your welcome. That's not a criticism. Just an observation. Alex draws the knife from his clothes. CAPTAIN (CONT'D) I don't think you're going to use it. That's Lauren's knife. Enraged, Alex SWIPES the knife. The Captain grabs his arm right at the blood soaked necktie, squeezes hard. Alex writhes in pain. In each other's faces now. CAPTAIN (CONT'D) You come in here al lfull of righteous indignation, but what have you got to be righteous about? THE KNIFE starting to fall from Alex's hand as the Captain continues to clamp down on his wound. CAPTAIN (CONT'D) How many innocent people did you leave dead back there? ALEX You sent them. I had no choice. CAPTAIN Bullshit. You're a killer, that's all you are. A clown with a bird and a rising death toll. You think the world did you wrong?! You did the world wrong. The Captain snatches the knife, RAMS it into Alex's midriff. ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- 74. CAPTAIN (CONT'D) You and Lauren had a fight. You couldn't let it go. FLASH EXT. OLD GROWTH GROVE - DAY ALEX'S INTERNAL POV Lauren in tears in Alex's car. LAUREN I can't say. ALEX He grabs for her. She pulls violently away. LAUREN Don't touch me! RESUME INT. POLICE STATION - CAPTAIN'S OFFICE - NIGHT WHOOMP. Another stab into Alex. There will be fifty three. CAPTAIN It was one thing her dad rejected you. But when she did you lost it. ALEX You're wrong. CAPTAIN Yeah? I see doubt oozing out your arm. Where do people go when they kill their girlfriends? FLASH ALEX'S INTERNAL POV Alex back at the inferno, cowering from flames. RESUME The Captain full of righteous conviction. CAPTAIN (CONT'D) Screwed up kid stabs her fifty three times. Where would he end up? The Captain bent over Alex, stabbing him. ALEX'S INTERNAL POV (INTERCUT WITH PREVIOUS) FLASHES move us backward along the path we've taken so far, a tour of hell on earth, the blast of infernal winds and the ever-present voice of the Captain, condemning. CAPTAIN'S VOICE Take a look! Strippers writhe at "The Hole." ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- 75. CAPTAIN'S VOICE (CONT'D) That's who you are! The Porsche explodes. CAPTAIN'S VOICE (CONT'D) You sick fuck! Look at it! Alex blasts Dutton. BAM! CAPTAIN'S VOICE (CONT'D) Every loser name anyone ever called you was true! Alex escapes the taser. Mercer drops. CAPTAIN'S VOICE (CONT'D) Are you looking? Answer me! Time SCREECHING to a halt, all the movement converging on a single, quiet image. One we've seen before... Alex in the chair. But his last words are different. ALEX I loved Lauren. I never meant to hurt her. ZAP. Electro-spasm as the switch is thrown. No scar, no meltdown, just violent fibrillations that moderate, finally as we MATCH TO... RESUME - THE CAPTAIN'S OFFICE The Captain shaking Alex, holding something in front of Alex's face. CAPTAIN You see it? Huh? Did you see it? Alex's eye's gone dead, no longer seeing... THE PHOTO - LAUREN AND ALEX IN THE WOODS arms around each other. Familiar, but on second take, it's like the crime scene photos... Lauren's NECK is SLASHED, her body riddled with stab wounds. Alex has a big smile on his face, his arm around her, her head on his shoulder. 100% sociopath. RESUME CAPTAIN (CONT'D) Yeah. I think you fucking saw it. The Captain drops Alex lifeless and bloody to the floor. Only the sound of the Captain panting now, then... The sound of slow clapping. Madden walks into the room from behind perimeter curtains. CLAP CLAP CLAP. ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- 76. MADDEN You were right. Picture's worth a thousand words. Madden kicks Alex lightly, nudging him. No life signes. The Captain rips the picture in two. Tosses it in the trash. CAPTAIN Just don't believe everything you see. MADDEN Doubt is a motherfucker. CAPTAIN Give me a hand with this sack of shit. INT. MYSTERY ROOM - NIGHT NEW ANGLE - THROUGH A WINDOW DARKLY Madden and the Captain grab Alex, one at each end. SECRETARY He's cute. Was cute. REVEAL, this is the Secretary's POV through the window. She's bent over someone's toes, painting them BLUE. WIDE. The Mystery Room revealed. Taxidermy specimens line the wall and the table. Erin stands in PROFILE in the middle of the room, strangely silent, hands tied overhead by a rope that runs to the ceiling. The Secretary brushing polish on Erin's toes. SECRETARY (CONT'D) But the face, well, makeup can work for you or against you. Right? The Secretary applies a last flourish of polish, then stands, kisses Erin gently. SECRETARY (CONT'D) All done. Very nice. (then) You're a good listener. The Secretary moves off REVEALING... ERIN'S FACE MOUTH SEWN shut in a rough zigzag stitch, like the scar. Her eyes dart as... THE DOOR opens. The Captain and Madden carry Alex in. Madden sweeps the TAXIDERMY SPECIMENS back with his hand, clearing a space for Alex on the table. Among them... ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- 77. THE CROW on its Corvus Brachyrhynchos stand takes a small hop backward, this sign of life unnoticed as... RESUME WHUMP. Alex heaved onto the table. MADDEN So was he dead? Or alive? The Secretary puts her ear to Alex's lifeless lips. CAPTAIN I've seen birds stuffed and mounted so lifelike you'd swear you saw them breathing. This reminds him... he looks at the Crow on the stand. Lifeless, stuffed. As it should be. CAPTAIN (CONT'D) Maybe we had a case of that here. (to Secretary) Get me my kit. MADDEN You two are majorly demented. Anyone ever tell you that? The Secretary steps off to grab thekit, leaving Alex's lifeless open eyes pointing toward Erin, reflected in his eyeballs first before... ANGLE - ERIN looking up at her own hands, bound above her as she eases them apart and... The HEART SHAPED LOCKET slips from between her palms and she closes them again in time to catch the chain, the locket swinging. ON THE TABLE X-CLOSE. The locket reflected in Alex's lifeless open eyes a second before... The Secretary returns, blocking the sightline. Lays out the Kit, nasty looking tools left over from the Inquisition. Then unbuttons Alex's tattered shirt, undressing him for the procedure. Stab wounds everywhere. SECRETARY Fifty three? CAPTAIN In all the excitement I kind of lost count. (then) I think I'll mount him with his head up his ass. A large KNIFE, the Lauren murder weapon, angles in at the base of Alex'sneck where the Secretary's head was. ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- 78. THE CROW - OVERCRANKED moves on the table. Takes flight. THE TRIO turn toward the commotion. CAPTAIN (CONT'D) Grab it! THE LOCKET - OVERCRANKED Snatched in midair by the Crow from Erin's praying hands. FLASH! ALEX/CROW'S INTERNAL POV HIGH ANGLE CROWVISION. Dim memories from the woods. Anamorphic and dark. Two figures--Alex and Erin--kneeling. RESUME - THE LOCKET released from the Crow's beak, passing through the TRIO'S HANDS uncaught, bouncing off Alex onto the table, in front of his open eyes. ALEX/CROW'S INTERNAL POV FLASH. AT GROUND LEVEL. Alex fastens the LOCKET around her neck. The distortion lessening, becoming Alex's POV. ALEX ... it connects you to me... FLASH. ERIN No matter what happens... you're innocent... I promise... FLASH. Alex painting her face. RESUME Alex BLINKS. The Captain reacts--oh shit--starts to bring the knife down, a hurried strike at Alex's chest. WAM! Alex grabs the Captain's arm in his hand, stopping the movement on a dime. ALEX All lies. Everything you ever showed me. MADDEN pulls a gun, points it at Erin. ALEX jumps up, flying INTO the gun as it goes off. CRASH! They tumble THROUGH THE WINDOW into the Captain's office while... THE CAPTAIN cuts down the rope holding Erin. She collapses... ON THE TABLE strewn with blades, secreting one between her hands, in the second before... THE CAPTAIN drags Erin off. The Secretary flails at the Crow with a metal ROD, while... IN THE CAPTAIN'S OFFICE Madden has the gun on Alex now. BAM! No effect. BAM! ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- 79. Madden sweating it now, continuing to shoot with no effect as... THE MYSTERY ROOM The Secretary finally connects with the Crow, batting it against the wall, noticing this coincides with... Alex goes flying against the desk, winged himself. Madden c Onfused, not understanding. SECRETARY (O.S.) It's the bird! Kill it! Madden wheels, points the gun through the busted-out picture window into... The SECRETARY dives for cover as bullets explode around her. The Crow dancing, sprayed with debris. CUT TO: INT. POLICE STATION - ELEVATOR - NIGHT CLOSE. Floor lights sequence above the door, heading for underground parking. "5 - 4 - 3..." The Captain watches the lights. Erin is slumped face first against the side of the elevator opposite him. CAPTAIN You brought him back. Good. He owes you. We'll stick together, you and I. ON ERIN face pressed against the elevator wall, intent. CAPTAIN (CONT'D) Seen but not heard. They ought to make it a law. Erin winces, looks down... THE BLADE emerging from her sleeve as she tries to hold it with her two bound hands. DING. The elevator jerks to a stop. THE CAPTAIN grabs her off the floor and she RAMS the blade into his abdomen with the force of the entire body. Twists it. The elevator doors open. ERIN pulls out the blade, claws her way out the door, the Captain hanging on to her, finally getting free as she swipes at him again, drawing fresh blood. Running now, into... INT. POLICE STATION - PARKING GARAGE - NIGHT Erin stumbles between cars in the dark underground garage, cutting the cord off her hands, leaving it behind as... ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- 80. Behind her, the Captain unsteady on his feet, a wounded animal. He pulls out a GLOCK 9MM and KA-CHUNK. Cycles it. Erin dives between cars, scrambling on hands and knees. Looks around. HER POV - SCANNING a small garage with a few police cruisers by a SERVICE AREA and no people. A barred GATE over the exit. No way out. ERIN winces. Then stifles a cry as she cuts the stitches off her mouth with the knife. Drops the threads on the floor and moves off... CUT TO: INT. POLICE STATION - CAPTAIN'S OFFICE - NIGHT Alex runs past the glass AWARDS CASE, takes a flying leap behind the desk, seeking cover as Madden empties a clip at him. The slide ratchets back. Madden SLAMS another clip in, advances on Alex, hidden behind the shredded desk as... THE SECRETARY clears stuffed birds off the table trying to expose the wounded crow cowering back against the wall. SECRETARY Here pretty bird. Here birdy. WHOP! She grabs it, the Crow flapping desperately as... IN THE CAPTAIN'S OFFICE Madden creeps up on the desk, peers over it. Nothing. Out of nowhere... WAM! Alex rushes Madden, bulldozing him across the room with a pained cry of brute force toward... THE AWARDS CASE CRASH! Glass shatters as Alex hurls Madden, who swivels around in time to get off a last shot BAM! That collapses Alex to the floor. IN THE MYSTERY ROOM The Crow squeezes out of the Secretary's grasp, leaving her holding a couple feathers. AT THE AWARD'S CASE Alex hauls himself off the floor as the Crow joins him. Seeing... MADDEN'S HEAD has taken its place among glass bowls and trophies, half decapitated by the glass shelf it now rests on. Down the shelf from the stuffed bird. ALEX rushes through the blown out window into... Seeing for the first time that Erin is gone, the rope hanging from the ceiling, finding... THE SECRETARY ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- 81. SECRETARY (CONT'D) sitting on the floor, painting her own toenails BLUE, leaning up against the wall. ALEX Where'd they go? Alex eases the Secretary to her feet with a hand around her neck, her back to the wall. She looks UP, smiling at... WALSH - RIGHT ARM MISSING hangs high overhead from some kind of hook. His arm has been crudely removed. Underneath him, on the table, a BOX of 2" surgical stainless steel rods sits by a pool of blood. ALEX yells, reeling, as... The door flies open. A half dozen cops in, all targeting Alex as... THE SECRETARY plunges the Lauren KNIFE in Alex's back. He spins violently THROWING her HARD against the wall. WAM! Surprise!-she sticks. REVEAL, she's impaled on ANTELOPE ANTLERS, hanging off the wall. Her head drops, looking down as a stream of blood flows down her legs, drips off her toes... SECRETARY (dying words) My nails. BAM BAM BAM. The new arrivals open fire. Alex reaches over his shoulder, yanks out the knife with an odd slurping sound as... CUT TO: INT. POLICE STATION - PARKING GARAGE The sound of GUNFIRE filters down from above as the Captain hunts his hidden prey. He stops, studies... ERIN'S POV - LOW ANGLE LOOKING UNDER A CAR The Captain's feet, joined by his hand as he picks up the thread she left on the ground. INCLUDE ERIN SECRETARY reproving herself as she turns toward camera. She looks back under the car, but... The Captain's feet have moved off. Where? She listens, hears nothing. Slips off... NEW ANGLE - ERIN takes refuge in the service area, crouching behind stacks of TIRES. Knife at the ready. ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- 82. The Captain's FOOTSTEPS audible. HER OBSTRUCTED POV between stacks of tires, the Captain, Glock at ready, PASSES BY, moving out of sight. Footsteps RECEDING. Then silent. ERIN Listening, neurons firing. Cranes her neck to see. Nothing. WIDER the Captain appears BEHIND ERIN, over the stacks of tires. She's oblivious, then... Erin wheels, slashes across his wrist. The Glock falls, Erin grabs it, levels it at the Captain. Her finger tense on the trigger. CAPTAIN (re: gun) I know you too well. You won't do it. ERIN You don't know me at all. BAM! She pulls the trigger, simultaneously wrenching the gun, aiming just enough off that... THE CAPTAIN yells in pain, rushes his hand to his ear, a bloody mess. He starts advancing again toward her and Erin pulls... THE TRIGGER again, again, again.

lot

How many times the word 'lot' appears in the text?

Alex starts off... BAM! He's blown back by a shot half lost in the noisy club. No panic yet. ONSTAGE the strippers break character, looking. The audience turns as... ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- 63. NEAR THE ENTRANCE The First Bouncer goes flying above the heads of the crowd, getting off a dramatic SHOT while airborne, inducing... PANDEMONIUM Patrons stampeding as BAM BAM! Alex taking bullets, the miracle lost in the chaotic exit. The Bouncers out of sight underfoot. ON ALEX visible again, back on his feet. Buffeted, stationary as everyone flees. With the exodus still at flood stage... CUT TO: INT. WALSH'S OFFICE - NIGHT ON WALSH, in motion as he puts on a jacket, throws some papers into a briefcase. He's nervous, ill-suited for this cloak and dagger stuff, chattering... WALSH We'll be safe in my car. Nobody will recognize it. Let's move yours in back, no, down the block. Hope it's nothing fancy. There's a chop shop around the corner. She's looking elsewhere, at the door that has quietly opened. The Captain stands there. Somber reptile. Holding a sheaf of papers in one hand. ERIN You followed me here. CAPTAIN No... Erin, I put out a bulletin on your car because... there's bad news. And I thought you should hear it from me. She stares at him expressionless. CAPTAIN (CONT'D) Your father got involved with some bad cops. On my force, so I take responsibility. (beat, then) He killed himself. She talks with great difficulty. ERIN How? CAPTAIN How did he kill himself? She nods. ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- 64. CAPTAIN (CONT'D) With a gun. Is that what you mean? ERIN No. I mean... how did he kill himself How do you figure he killed himself--with a gun, right--when it wasn't anywhere near where you found him? He takes a step toward her. She pulls out the Blood Pistol. Seems crazy enough to use it. ERIN (CONT'D) You killed him. WALSH Erin. Don't. ERIN Back the fuck off! Now! The Captain stops, gently tosses the sheaf of papers toward her, onto Walsh's desk. The papers Nathan was preparing. Walsh looks at them while... CAPTAIN He left this. Names, addresses, a note to you. These people he was involved with killed Lauren. He couldn't bear it anymore. WALSH My God. He's right, it's all here. ERIN The note. Show it to me. Erin has one eye on the papers now, recognizes her dad's hand. The Captain inches forward. ERIN (CONT'D) (to Captain) Not you! (to Walsh) Show it to me. The Captain steps forward, right to the desk. Erin backed into a corner now. CAPTAIN It's right there, under that paper. (grabs a note) Here. Look. She holds a hand out for the note, taking her eye off the situation for one second as she reads... ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- 65. THE NOTE A bunch of numbers added together in her father's hand. Not a suicide note. THE CAPTAIN grabs Erin's wrist and BAM! A chunk of the ceiling falls as the weapon discharges. The Captain throws her in a chokehold, her finger still on the trigger. CAPTAIN (CONT'D) You were always the stupid one. She fights as the Captain wraps his own hand over hers, wrestles her arm toward Walsh, in the sights now. BAM! WALSH blown backward, collapsing by the Chess Board. Trying to pull himself up. Erin struggling. As... MADDEN enters from the hall, in a hurry, gun drawn. MADDEN You need help? He nods toward Walsh, who is moving, barely. CAPTAIN Hurry. We don't have much time. BAM. A shot from Madden drops Walsh for god. As Madden drags Walsh toward the door, the Captain grabs... THE PICTURE OF ALEX AND LAUREN pulled off the lid of the Chess box, one of the pieces of tape left behind. The Captain exits. CUT TO: INT. "THE HOLE" - NIGHT MUSIC STILL POUNDS, lights swirl. But the club has cleared out, leaving human detritus, a handful of casualties from the stampede. WITH ALEX as he steps over the Two Bouncers, expired on the floor. A soft WHIMPERING marks the silence. The girl cuffed onstage. Alex goes up to the terrified girl. Close up, she looks way underage. He gathers her clothes, spots a key on the floor. ALEX How old are you? She listens as he unlocks the cuffs. ALEX (CONT'D) You have one chance to value your life. Take it. ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- 66. He watches as she hightails it out the front door, still half naked. As she leaves... THE CROW appears in the doorway near the broken bodies. Alex takes a deep breath, as if it hurts. The casualties. CAW. The Crow flies on, disappearing into the back rooms. Alex turns, follows... INT. "THE HOLE" - BACKSTAGE - NIGHT Alex moves past the empty makeup table. A lipstick cigarette smolders in an ashtray. People left in a hurry. MUSIC LOUD, as if inside our heads now. Alex continues... INT. "THE HOLE" - INTERNET PORN FACILITY Nobody home. Empty images refreshed every six seconds. Number of hits static now. Alex drawn now by the "No Admittance" Curtain which he approaches slowly, touching it and FLASH! ALEX'S INTERNAL POV - LAUREN looking over her shoulder, pulling back the "No Admittance" Curtain, going where she shouldn't go. ALEX Lauren? You were here? Lauren makes her stealthy way into.... INT. "THE HOLE" - BACK HALL - NIGHT revealed as Alex slips past the Curtain, retracing Lauren's footsteps. CAMERA FOLLOWS Alex CREEPING down the hall to... ALEX'S INTERNAL POV - LAUREN down the hall, peering inside the partially open Back Room door, then turning back startled TOWARD CAMERA as if suddenly overtaken. AT THE DOOR Alex turns back, like Lauren, looks behind him. The hallway is empty. He enters... INT. "THE HOLE" - BACK ROOM - NIGHT Darkness. As Alex gropes for a lightswitch, a LIGHTER FLARES. Toomey and Larkin lean in, light up in synch. Alex takes in the dark fringes, dim reflections off lots of eyes. Not taxidermy specimens. BAM BAM BAM BAM. A dozen police officers lining the walls empty cartridges into Alex in an angry, STROBING fusillade. In the silence that follows... LARKIN (after the fact) Don't move. ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- 67. The gang LAUGHS. Larkin makes his way to a light switch by the door. LARKIN (CONT'D) Drinks are on me. Larkin flips on the low-watt BARE BULBS hanging down past industrial pipes and conduit, casting a dim light on the cinderblock space. NO ALEX. ALEX Cheers. They look up and... BAM! Alex DROPS LARKIN with a shot to the forehead. BAM! He MISSES TOOMEY as bullets from below EXPLODE all around him. Alex scampers across framing as... The BARE BULBS burst, all but one, plunging us back in to near darkness as Alex drops to the ground near Larkin's fallen body. Jacks up the sleeve. No scar. Alex spots Toomey, rolls out as... THREE COPS pump rounds into Alex. BAM! Alex takes the middle Cop out, a TOONEY-LIKE GUY who falls onto Toomey, behind him. ALEX turns, forced to defend himself as FULL AUTO FIRE breaks open, the other flank, more advancing cops. While... TOOMEY crawls out from under the fallen copy, then backs out the door on hands and knees while... A FINAL EXPLOSIVE FUSILLADE leaves only Alex standing. As the echoes dissolve... Alex Alex moves to where Toomey was, bends down to check the body... THE NAMEPLATE - "TOOMEY" But the pin isn't fastened properly. The badge askew. RESUME - ALEX rolls the body over, finds another nameplate underneath. "Hauser." Heads off in search of... ALEX (CONT'D) Toomey! INT - "THE HOLE" - INTERNET PORN FACILITY - NIGHT Toomey is clearing the "No Admittance" curtain when... ALEX You dripped something! Toomey panics as he approaches... ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- 68. INTERNET FANTASY SETS Monitors still updating every six seconds. Toomey hears Alex coming, slips through the "Dungeon." BEHIND THE SHOWER FANTASY SET Toomey takes refuge out of sight, next to a GAS HOT WATER HEATER, quiet as a mouse. ALEX tears the "No Admittance" curtain completely off its rod, arriving at the fantasy sets just in time to see... THE DUNGEON MONITOR Toomey (frozen) scurrying through. Gone now as the monitor updates. Then Alex appears, following him through the set... WITH ALEX moving to the rear of the "dungeon," on Toomey's heels. WAM. Toomey hits him full force with A PIPE, sending Alex sprawling backward, COLLAPSING the flimsy Shower set. WAM. Toomey swings again, misses Alex, but connects with... THE GAS LINE to the water heater ripped out by the blow. HISS. The sound of gas, loud, as the line breaks. RESUME Alex straddles Toomey, just as Toomey manages to get his gun pointed in Alex's face. Hissing gas nearby. CLICK. Toomey cocks the gun. ALEX (CONT'D) Spark, gas... bad combination. And it's not this leak here, that's the least of your worries. WAM! Alex swings Toomey's pipe HARD at a much bigger GAS LINE right behind the gas heater, leaving it badly cracked. The hiss magnified 100% nos. ALEX (CONT'D) We're going to play a little game called "Who's got the Scar." TOOMEY What Scar? What fucking scar? ALEX (buzzer sound) AAAANK. That's not how we play the game. Alex jacks Toomey's sleeve down. No Scar. Alex pissed as Toomey locks eyes with him. Really seeing him now. TOOMEY You're him! You're Corvis! We fried your ass. You're dead, man! ALEX Good thing in a situation like this. We pick up... ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- 69. INT. "THE HOLE" - BACK ROOM - NIGHT Some light filters in as a door opens to the outside. A FIGURE enters, squats among the bodies. He leans in, closes larkin's eyes, and we see... It's Madden. Blood on his hands. He hears Alex's VOICE faintly, then Toomey cries out in pain. Madden moves toward... INT. "THE HOLE" - INTERNET PORN FACILITY - NIGHT Madden creeps down the hallway to the back room. VOICES growing louder. TOOMEY Fucking Zombie. ALEX The scar. TOOMEY There is no scar. I'm telling you. As Madden moves toward the conversation, his face registers the slightest of smiles. MADDEN'S CREEPING POV MONITORS obliquely visible as he reaches the end of the hall by the Fantasy sets. The "Shower" monitor shows Alex and Toomey, visible through the trashed set, updated every six seconds. MADDEN SNIFFS gas. The HISS now audible along with Alex's voice. Madden smiles. Pulls out his 9mm. And BACKS UP, away from the Fantasy Sets toward the back room. Madden takes aim at... THE FIRST MONITOR The images is Alex threatening Toomey. Updating now--LOSING ALEX on the Monitor as he steps into frame in person, looks up and BAM! CROWVISION a speeding bullet passes narrowly by and... ANGLE - GROUND ZERO as the bullet hits the monitor in a shower of sparks, followed by... BOOM! A ROILING FIREBALL Seems to vaporize Alex before flying down the hallway right at CAMERA. Madden manages a couple steps in retreat before it blows him into the back room with a deafening roar. EXT. "THE HOLE" - INFERNO - NIGHT BOOM! Windows blow out in a gas fired inferno. A body flung out the rear door. BOOM! ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- 70. EXT. "THE HOLE" - NIGHT Interior/exterior being less meaningful than seconds ago. Walls crumbled, roof blown off. BRIGHT FIRE consumes the frame, consumes the bodies of downed cops, consumes every last bit of oxygen and life. Distant SIRENS draw closer. A SLOW SCAN, someone's OBSTRUCTED POV of Hell. INCLUDE ALEX watching from under a collapsed cinderblock wall that offers some protection from the flames, if not the heat. He looks, intent now, spotting... THE ARM WITH THE ZIGZAG SCARIFICATION sticking out of the rubble, murky through the flames, growing clearer as camera PUSHES, flames licking at it... ALEX tries to move toward the arm. Forced back by too- intense flame as another beam falls, the rubble shifts and... THE ARM WITH THE ZIGZAG SCARIFICATION skeletal now, baked down to bones. A dozen short metal rods on the ground under it. He picks a few up. THE CAPTAIN drawn now to... UNDER THE RUBBLE - WHERE ALEX WAS water dripping off the concrete, collecting in the place where Alex hid. But he's long gone. The Captain drops the rods. Satisfied it's over. CUT TO: EXT. CITY STREET #5 - NIGHT Alex staggers along in bad shape. Up ahead... A GIRL in her twenties exits a building down a flight of stairs, waits at the bottom for her BOYFRIEND, who's locking the door. She sees Alex, gives him an empathetic look. Alex walks slowly closer. ALEX'S INTERNAL POV Lauren appearing to him, playing their game. But the words are wrong, distorted. LAUREN Your witness list is no match for my kung fu. Her Bruce Lee "Oooo" a siren call. RESUME Alex moving slowly forward on the street, drawn toward the girl who watches with horrified fascination. ALEX I'm losing you. ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- 71. ALEX'S INTERNAL POV LAUREN Your zigzag love scar is no match for... Lauren and Alex drawing very close now when... RESUME WAM. A FIST clocks Alex in the face, dropping him hard onto the pavement. GIRL Did you have to do that? BOYFRIEND How about "thank you." GIRL He's bleeding. ALEX I don't bleed. BOYFRIEND And delirious. Better steer clear. ALEX'S POV The Guy wraps his arm protectively around the girl, walks her off. Running into a COP at the next intersection. They POINT at... ALEX takes off, ducking into an alley. Confused. CAMERA CREEPS BACKWARD as he gathers his thoughts. CUT TO: INT. WALSH'S OFFICE - NIGHT RATTLE RATTLE. Alex's shadow visible through the frosted glass, jostling the locked door. ALEX Erin! SMASH. His arm PUNCHES through the glass, turn the knob. Alex enters, arm bleeding badly. He yanks a large piece of glass from his flesh. Painful. Alex registers that the rules have changed. He finds a necktie of Walsh's, uses it to bind the wound, staunch the flow. He scans the room again looking for... Something. But everything seems ok. He passes... The Chess Box, the picture of Lauren and Alex gone. Just a piece of TAPE left, sticking to the top of the open lid. ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- 72. OVER THE CHESS BOARD - ALEX the missing pic lost on him, drawn to the chess board where Walsh collapsed. Something wrong with the game. He finds... THE BLACK KING Off the board. On top of a stack of news clippings lying on the floor. Alex picks it up, LEAVING a RING OF BLOOD under. CAMERA PUSHES on the clipping underneath, the headline "City Leaders Vow Crackdown in Wake of Randall Murder." PUSHING, finding among the City Leaders... ALEX (CONT'D) The King. THE CAPTAIN'S FACE circled in blood. Camera continues to PUSH on the grainy newsprint, through it, until all we see are halftone pixels and the picture loses meaning. EXT. CITY - AIRBORNE - NIGHT The Police Station in sinister CROWVISION as we approach, swoop in and... INT. POLICE STATION - HALLWAY Alex walks the long approach to the Captain's office, past the empty Secretary's desk. KICKING the door open CRASH! into... INT. POLICE STATION - CAPTAIN'S OFFICE The Captain works alone at his desk under a standing lamp. Looks up unconcerned as Alex enters, walks to the desk, and SLAPS down the ring-of-blood clipping. CAPTAIN I hate that picture. ALEX Where are they? CAPTAIN Can I get you something? A glass of water? A transfusion? ALEX Where are they? Last chance. CAPTAIN Or what? You'll bleed all over my carpet? The Captain rises. CAPTAIN (CONT'D) You know crime was actually down until you showed up, or stuck (MORE) ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- 73. CAPTAIN (CONT'D) around, or whatever the hell you're doing here. (then) What are you doing here? ALEX I'm looking for my friends. CAPTAIN See, I heard you were looking for some guy with a scar. How's that going? You find him? Yes? No? Alex tenses as the Captain starts toward him. CAPTAIN (CONT'D) You are like the guest who would not leave, you know that? And judging from your condition, maybe you've overstayed your welcome. That's not a criticism. Just an observation. Alex draws the knife from his clothes. CAPTAIN (CONT'D) I don't think you're going to use it. That's Lauren's knife. Enraged, Alex SWIPES the knife. The Captain grabs his arm right at the blood soaked necktie, squeezes hard. Alex writhes in pain. In each other's faces now. CAPTAIN (CONT'D) You come in here al lfull of righteous indignation, but what have you got to be righteous about? THE KNIFE starting to fall from Alex's hand as the Captain continues to clamp down on his wound. CAPTAIN (CONT'D) How many innocent people did you leave dead back there? ALEX You sent them. I had no choice. CAPTAIN Bullshit. You're a killer, that's all you are. A clown with a bird and a rising death toll. You think the world did you wrong?! You did the world wrong. The Captain snatches the knife, RAMS it into Alex's midriff. ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- 74. CAPTAIN (CONT'D) You and Lauren had a fight. You couldn't let it go. FLASH EXT. OLD GROWTH GROVE - DAY ALEX'S INTERNAL POV Lauren in tears in Alex's car. LAUREN I can't say. ALEX He grabs for her. She pulls violently away. LAUREN Don't touch me! RESUME INT. POLICE STATION - CAPTAIN'S OFFICE - NIGHT WHOOMP. Another stab into Alex. There will be fifty three. CAPTAIN It was one thing her dad rejected you. But when she did you lost it. ALEX You're wrong. CAPTAIN Yeah? I see doubt oozing out your arm. Where do people go when they kill their girlfriends? FLASH ALEX'S INTERNAL POV Alex back at the inferno, cowering from flames. RESUME The Captain full of righteous conviction. CAPTAIN (CONT'D) Screwed up kid stabs her fifty three times. Where would he end up? The Captain bent over Alex, stabbing him. ALEX'S INTERNAL POV (INTERCUT WITH PREVIOUS) FLASHES move us backward along the path we've taken so far, a tour of hell on earth, the blast of infernal winds and the ever-present voice of the Captain, condemning. CAPTAIN'S VOICE Take a look! Strippers writhe at "The Hole." ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- 75. CAPTAIN'S VOICE (CONT'D) That's who you are! The Porsche explodes. CAPTAIN'S VOICE (CONT'D) You sick fuck! Look at it! Alex blasts Dutton. BAM! CAPTAIN'S VOICE (CONT'D) Every loser name anyone ever called you was true! Alex escapes the taser. Mercer drops. CAPTAIN'S VOICE (CONT'D) Are you looking? Answer me! Time SCREECHING to a halt, all the movement converging on a single, quiet image. One we've seen before... Alex in the chair. But his last words are different. ALEX I loved Lauren. I never meant to hurt her. ZAP. Electro-spasm as the switch is thrown. No scar, no meltdown, just violent fibrillations that moderate, finally as we MATCH TO... RESUME - THE CAPTAIN'S OFFICE The Captain shaking Alex, holding something in front of Alex's face. CAPTAIN You see it? Huh? Did you see it? Alex's eye's gone dead, no longer seeing... THE PHOTO - LAUREN AND ALEX IN THE WOODS arms around each other. Familiar, but on second take, it's like the crime scene photos... Lauren's NECK is SLASHED, her body riddled with stab wounds. Alex has a big smile on his face, his arm around her, her head on his shoulder. 100% sociopath. RESUME CAPTAIN (CONT'D) Yeah. I think you fucking saw it. The Captain drops Alex lifeless and bloody to the floor. Only the sound of the Captain panting now, then... The sound of slow clapping. Madden walks into the room from behind perimeter curtains. CLAP CLAP CLAP. ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- 76. MADDEN You were right. Picture's worth a thousand words. Madden kicks Alex lightly, nudging him. No life signes. The Captain rips the picture in two. Tosses it in the trash. CAPTAIN Just don't believe everything you see. MADDEN Doubt is a motherfucker. CAPTAIN Give me a hand with this sack of shit. INT. MYSTERY ROOM - NIGHT NEW ANGLE - THROUGH A WINDOW DARKLY Madden and the Captain grab Alex, one at each end. SECRETARY He's cute. Was cute. REVEAL, this is the Secretary's POV through the window. She's bent over someone's toes, painting them BLUE. WIDE. The Mystery Room revealed. Taxidermy specimens line the wall and the table. Erin stands in PROFILE in the middle of the room, strangely silent, hands tied overhead by a rope that runs to the ceiling. The Secretary brushing polish on Erin's toes. SECRETARY (CONT'D) But the face, well, makeup can work for you or against you. Right? The Secretary applies a last flourish of polish, then stands, kisses Erin gently. SECRETARY (CONT'D) All done. Very nice. (then) You're a good listener. The Secretary moves off REVEALING... ERIN'S FACE MOUTH SEWN shut in a rough zigzag stitch, like the scar. Her eyes dart as... THE DOOR opens. The Captain and Madden carry Alex in. Madden sweeps the TAXIDERMY SPECIMENS back with his hand, clearing a space for Alex on the table. Among them... ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- 77. THE CROW on its Corvus Brachyrhynchos stand takes a small hop backward, this sign of life unnoticed as... RESUME WHUMP. Alex heaved onto the table. MADDEN So was he dead? Or alive? The Secretary puts her ear to Alex's lifeless lips. CAPTAIN I've seen birds stuffed and mounted so lifelike you'd swear you saw them breathing. This reminds him... he looks at the Crow on the stand. Lifeless, stuffed. As it should be. CAPTAIN (CONT'D) Maybe we had a case of that here. (to Secretary) Get me my kit. MADDEN You two are majorly demented. Anyone ever tell you that? The Secretary steps off to grab thekit, leaving Alex's lifeless open eyes pointing toward Erin, reflected in his eyeballs first before... ANGLE - ERIN looking up at her own hands, bound above her as she eases them apart and... The HEART SHAPED LOCKET slips from between her palms and she closes them again in time to catch the chain, the locket swinging. ON THE TABLE X-CLOSE. The locket reflected in Alex's lifeless open eyes a second before... The Secretary returns, blocking the sightline. Lays out the Kit, nasty looking tools left over from the Inquisition. Then unbuttons Alex's tattered shirt, undressing him for the procedure. Stab wounds everywhere. SECRETARY Fifty three? CAPTAIN In all the excitement I kind of lost count. (then) I think I'll mount him with his head up his ass. A large KNIFE, the Lauren murder weapon, angles in at the base of Alex'sneck where the Secretary's head was. ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- 78. THE CROW - OVERCRANKED moves on the table. Takes flight. THE TRIO turn toward the commotion. CAPTAIN (CONT'D) Grab it! THE LOCKET - OVERCRANKED Snatched in midair by the Crow from Erin's praying hands. FLASH! ALEX/CROW'S INTERNAL POV HIGH ANGLE CROWVISION. Dim memories from the woods. Anamorphic and dark. Two figures--Alex and Erin--kneeling. RESUME - THE LOCKET released from the Crow's beak, passing through the TRIO'S HANDS uncaught, bouncing off Alex onto the table, in front of his open eyes. ALEX/CROW'S INTERNAL POV FLASH. AT GROUND LEVEL. Alex fastens the LOCKET around her neck. The distortion lessening, becoming Alex's POV. ALEX ... it connects you to me... FLASH. ERIN No matter what happens... you're innocent... I promise... FLASH. Alex painting her face. RESUME Alex BLINKS. The Captain reacts--oh shit--starts to bring the knife down, a hurried strike at Alex's chest. WAM! Alex grabs the Captain's arm in his hand, stopping the movement on a dime. ALEX All lies. Everything you ever showed me. MADDEN pulls a gun, points it at Erin. ALEX jumps up, flying INTO the gun as it goes off. CRASH! They tumble THROUGH THE WINDOW into the Captain's office while... THE CAPTAIN cuts down the rope holding Erin. She collapses... ON THE TABLE strewn with blades, secreting one between her hands, in the second before... THE CAPTAIN drags Erin off. The Secretary flails at the Crow with a metal ROD, while... IN THE CAPTAIN'S OFFICE Madden has the gun on Alex now. BAM! No effect. BAM! ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- 79. Madden sweating it now, continuing to shoot with no effect as... THE MYSTERY ROOM The Secretary finally connects with the Crow, batting it against the wall, noticing this coincides with... Alex goes flying against the desk, winged himself. Madden c Onfused, not understanding. SECRETARY (O.S.) It's the bird! Kill it! Madden wheels, points the gun through the busted-out picture window into... The SECRETARY dives for cover as bullets explode around her. The Crow dancing, sprayed with debris. CUT TO: INT. POLICE STATION - ELEVATOR - NIGHT CLOSE. Floor lights sequence above the door, heading for underground parking. "5 - 4 - 3..." The Captain watches the lights. Erin is slumped face first against the side of the elevator opposite him. CAPTAIN You brought him back. Good. He owes you. We'll stick together, you and I. ON ERIN face pressed against the elevator wall, intent. CAPTAIN (CONT'D) Seen but not heard. They ought to make it a law. Erin winces, looks down... THE BLADE emerging from her sleeve as she tries to hold it with her two bound hands. DING. The elevator jerks to a stop. THE CAPTAIN grabs her off the floor and she RAMS the blade into his abdomen with the force of the entire body. Twists it. The elevator doors open. ERIN pulls out the blade, claws her way out the door, the Captain hanging on to her, finally getting free as she swipes at him again, drawing fresh blood. Running now, into... INT. POLICE STATION - PARKING GARAGE - NIGHT Erin stumbles between cars in the dark underground garage, cutting the cord off her hands, leaving it behind as... ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- 80. Behind her, the Captain unsteady on his feet, a wounded animal. He pulls out a GLOCK 9MM and KA-CHUNK. Cycles it. Erin dives between cars, scrambling on hands and knees. Looks around. HER POV - SCANNING a small garage with a few police cruisers by a SERVICE AREA and no people. A barred GATE over the exit. No way out. ERIN winces. Then stifles a cry as she cuts the stitches off her mouth with the knife. Drops the threads on the floor and moves off... CUT TO: INT. POLICE STATION - CAPTAIN'S OFFICE - NIGHT Alex runs past the glass AWARDS CASE, takes a flying leap behind the desk, seeking cover as Madden empties a clip at him. The slide ratchets back. Madden SLAMS another clip in, advances on Alex, hidden behind the shredded desk as... THE SECRETARY clears stuffed birds off the table trying to expose the wounded crow cowering back against the wall. SECRETARY Here pretty bird. Here birdy. WHOP! She grabs it, the Crow flapping desperately as... IN THE CAPTAIN'S OFFICE Madden creeps up on the desk, peers over it. Nothing. Out of nowhere... WAM! Alex rushes Madden, bulldozing him across the room with a pained cry of brute force toward... THE AWARDS CASE CRASH! Glass shatters as Alex hurls Madden, who swivels around in time to get off a last shot BAM! That collapses Alex to the floor. IN THE MYSTERY ROOM The Crow squeezes out of the Secretary's grasp, leaving her holding a couple feathers. AT THE AWARD'S CASE Alex hauls himself off the floor as the Crow joins him. Seeing... MADDEN'S HEAD has taken its place among glass bowls and trophies, half decapitated by the glass shelf it now rests on. Down the shelf from the stuffed bird. ALEX rushes through the blown out window into... Seeing for the first time that Erin is gone, the rope hanging from the ceiling, finding... THE SECRETARY ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- 81. SECRETARY (CONT'D) sitting on the floor, painting her own toenails BLUE, leaning up against the wall. ALEX Where'd they go? Alex eases the Secretary to her feet with a hand around her neck, her back to the wall. She looks UP, smiling at... WALSH - RIGHT ARM MISSING hangs high overhead from some kind of hook. His arm has been crudely removed. Underneath him, on the table, a BOX of 2" surgical stainless steel rods sits by a pool of blood. ALEX yells, reeling, as... The door flies open. A half dozen cops in, all targeting Alex as... THE SECRETARY plunges the Lauren KNIFE in Alex's back. He spins violently THROWING her HARD against the wall. WAM! Surprise!-she sticks. REVEAL, she's impaled on ANTELOPE ANTLERS, hanging off the wall. Her head drops, looking down as a stream of blood flows down her legs, drips off her toes... SECRETARY (dying words) My nails. BAM BAM BAM. The new arrivals open fire. Alex reaches over his shoulder, yanks out the knife with an odd slurping sound as... CUT TO: INT. POLICE STATION - PARKING GARAGE The sound of GUNFIRE filters down from above as the Captain hunts his hidden prey. He stops, studies... ERIN'S POV - LOW ANGLE LOOKING UNDER A CAR The Captain's feet, joined by his hand as he picks up the thread she left on the ground. INCLUDE ERIN SECRETARY reproving herself as she turns toward camera. She looks back under the car, but... The Captain's feet have moved off. Where? She listens, hears nothing. Slips off... NEW ANGLE - ERIN takes refuge in the service area, crouching behind stacks of TIRES. Knife at the ready. ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- 82. The Captain's FOOTSTEPS audible. HER OBSTRUCTED POV between stacks of tires, the Captain, Glock at ready, PASSES BY, moving out of sight. Footsteps RECEDING. Then silent. ERIN Listening, neurons firing. Cranes her neck to see. Nothing. WIDER the Captain appears BEHIND ERIN, over the stacks of tires. She's oblivious, then... Erin wheels, slashes across his wrist. The Glock falls, Erin grabs it, levels it at the Captain. Her finger tense on the trigger. CAPTAIN (re: gun) I know you too well. You won't do it. ERIN You don't know me at all. BAM! She pulls the trigger, simultaneously wrenching the gun, aiming just enough off that... THE CAPTAIN yells in pain, rushes his hand to his ear, a bloody mess. He starts advancing again toward her and Erin pulls... THE TRIGGER again, again, again.

boom

How many times the word 'boom' appears in the text?

Alex starts off... BAM! He's blown back by a shot half lost in the noisy club. No panic yet. ONSTAGE the strippers break character, looking. The audience turns as... ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- 63. NEAR THE ENTRANCE The First Bouncer goes flying above the heads of the crowd, getting off a dramatic SHOT while airborne, inducing... PANDEMONIUM Patrons stampeding as BAM BAM! Alex taking bullets, the miracle lost in the chaotic exit. The Bouncers out of sight underfoot. ON ALEX visible again, back on his feet. Buffeted, stationary as everyone flees. With the exodus still at flood stage... CUT TO: INT. WALSH'S OFFICE - NIGHT ON WALSH, in motion as he puts on a jacket, throws some papers into a briefcase. He's nervous, ill-suited for this cloak and dagger stuff, chattering... WALSH We'll be safe in my car. Nobody will recognize it. Let's move yours in back, no, down the block. Hope it's nothing fancy. There's a chop shop around the corner. She's looking elsewhere, at the door that has quietly opened. The Captain stands there. Somber reptile. Holding a sheaf of papers in one hand. ERIN You followed me here. CAPTAIN No... Erin, I put out a bulletin on your car because... there's bad news. And I thought you should hear it from me. She stares at him expressionless. CAPTAIN (CONT'D) Your father got involved with some bad cops. On my force, so I take responsibility. (beat, then) He killed himself. She talks with great difficulty. ERIN How? CAPTAIN How did he kill himself? She nods. ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- 64. CAPTAIN (CONT'D) With a gun. Is that what you mean? ERIN No. I mean... how did he kill himself How do you figure he killed himself--with a gun, right--when it wasn't anywhere near where you found him? He takes a step toward her. She pulls out the Blood Pistol. Seems crazy enough to use it. ERIN (CONT'D) You killed him. WALSH Erin. Don't. ERIN Back the fuck off! Now! The Captain stops, gently tosses the sheaf of papers toward her, onto Walsh's desk. The papers Nathan was preparing. Walsh looks at them while... CAPTAIN He left this. Names, addresses, a note to you. These people he was involved with killed Lauren. He couldn't bear it anymore. WALSH My God. He's right, it's all here. ERIN The note. Show it to me. Erin has one eye on the papers now, recognizes her dad's hand. The Captain inches forward. ERIN (CONT'D) (to Captain) Not you! (to Walsh) Show it to me. The Captain steps forward, right to the desk. Erin backed into a corner now. CAPTAIN It's right there, under that paper. (grabs a note) Here. Look. She holds a hand out for the note, taking her eye off the situation for one second as she reads... ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- 65. THE NOTE A bunch of numbers added together in her father's hand. Not a suicide note. THE CAPTAIN grabs Erin's wrist and BAM! A chunk of the ceiling falls as the weapon discharges. The Captain throws her in a chokehold, her finger still on the trigger. CAPTAIN (CONT'D) You were always the stupid one. She fights as the Captain wraps his own hand over hers, wrestles her arm toward Walsh, in the sights now. BAM! WALSH blown backward, collapsing by the Chess Board. Trying to pull himself up. Erin struggling. As... MADDEN enters from the hall, in a hurry, gun drawn. MADDEN You need help? He nods toward Walsh, who is moving, barely. CAPTAIN Hurry. We don't have much time. BAM. A shot from Madden drops Walsh for god. As Madden drags Walsh toward the door, the Captain grabs... THE PICTURE OF ALEX AND LAUREN pulled off the lid of the Chess box, one of the pieces of tape left behind. The Captain exits. CUT TO: INT. "THE HOLE" - NIGHT MUSIC STILL POUNDS, lights swirl. But the club has cleared out, leaving human detritus, a handful of casualties from the stampede. WITH ALEX as he steps over the Two Bouncers, expired on the floor. A soft WHIMPERING marks the silence. The girl cuffed onstage. Alex goes up to the terrified girl. Close up, she looks way underage. He gathers her clothes, spots a key on the floor. ALEX How old are you? She listens as he unlocks the cuffs. ALEX (CONT'D) You have one chance to value your life. Take it. ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- 66. He watches as she hightails it out the front door, still half naked. As she leaves... THE CROW appears in the doorway near the broken bodies. Alex takes a deep breath, as if it hurts. The casualties. CAW. The Crow flies on, disappearing into the back rooms. Alex turns, follows... INT. "THE HOLE" - BACKSTAGE - NIGHT Alex moves past the empty makeup table. A lipstick cigarette smolders in an ashtray. People left in a hurry. MUSIC LOUD, as if inside our heads now. Alex continues... INT. "THE HOLE" - INTERNET PORN FACILITY Nobody home. Empty images refreshed every six seconds. Number of hits static now. Alex drawn now by the "No Admittance" Curtain which he approaches slowly, touching it and FLASH! ALEX'S INTERNAL POV - LAUREN looking over her shoulder, pulling back the "No Admittance" Curtain, going where she shouldn't go. ALEX Lauren? You were here? Lauren makes her stealthy way into.... INT. "THE HOLE" - BACK HALL - NIGHT revealed as Alex slips past the Curtain, retracing Lauren's footsteps. CAMERA FOLLOWS Alex CREEPING down the hall to... ALEX'S INTERNAL POV - LAUREN down the hall, peering inside the partially open Back Room door, then turning back startled TOWARD CAMERA as if suddenly overtaken. AT THE DOOR Alex turns back, like Lauren, looks behind him. The hallway is empty. He enters... INT. "THE HOLE" - BACK ROOM - NIGHT Darkness. As Alex gropes for a lightswitch, a LIGHTER FLARES. Toomey and Larkin lean in, light up in synch. Alex takes in the dark fringes, dim reflections off lots of eyes. Not taxidermy specimens. BAM BAM BAM BAM. A dozen police officers lining the walls empty cartridges into Alex in an angry, STROBING fusillade. In the silence that follows... LARKIN (after the fact) Don't move. ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- 67. The gang LAUGHS. Larkin makes his way to a light switch by the door. LARKIN (CONT'D) Drinks are on me. Larkin flips on the low-watt BARE BULBS hanging down past industrial pipes and conduit, casting a dim light on the cinderblock space. NO ALEX. ALEX Cheers. They look up and... BAM! Alex DROPS LARKIN with a shot to the forehead. BAM! He MISSES TOOMEY as bullets from below EXPLODE all around him. Alex scampers across framing as... The BARE BULBS burst, all but one, plunging us back in to near darkness as Alex drops to the ground near Larkin's fallen body. Jacks up the sleeve. No scar. Alex spots Toomey, rolls out as... THREE COPS pump rounds into Alex. BAM! Alex takes the middle Cop out, a TOONEY-LIKE GUY who falls onto Toomey, behind him. ALEX turns, forced to defend himself as FULL AUTO FIRE breaks open, the other flank, more advancing cops. While... TOOMEY crawls out from under the fallen copy, then backs out the door on hands and knees while... A FINAL EXPLOSIVE FUSILLADE leaves only Alex standing. As the echoes dissolve... Alex Alex moves to where Toomey was, bends down to check the body... THE NAMEPLATE - "TOOMEY" But the pin isn't fastened properly. The badge askew. RESUME - ALEX rolls the body over, finds another nameplate underneath. "Hauser." Heads off in search of... ALEX (CONT'D) Toomey! INT - "THE HOLE" - INTERNET PORN FACILITY - NIGHT Toomey is clearing the "No Admittance" curtain when... ALEX You dripped something! Toomey panics as he approaches... ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- 68. INTERNET FANTASY SETS Monitors still updating every six seconds. Toomey hears Alex coming, slips through the "Dungeon." BEHIND THE SHOWER FANTASY SET Toomey takes refuge out of sight, next to a GAS HOT WATER HEATER, quiet as a mouse. ALEX tears the "No Admittance" curtain completely off its rod, arriving at the fantasy sets just in time to see... THE DUNGEON MONITOR Toomey (frozen) scurrying through. Gone now as the monitor updates. Then Alex appears, following him through the set... WITH ALEX moving to the rear of the "dungeon," on Toomey's heels. WAM. Toomey hits him full force with A PIPE, sending Alex sprawling backward, COLLAPSING the flimsy Shower set. WAM. Toomey swings again, misses Alex, but connects with... THE GAS LINE to the water heater ripped out by the blow. HISS. The sound of gas, loud, as the line breaks. RESUME Alex straddles Toomey, just as Toomey manages to get his gun pointed in Alex's face. Hissing gas nearby. CLICK. Toomey cocks the gun. ALEX (CONT'D) Spark, gas... bad combination. And it's not this leak here, that's the least of your worries. WAM! Alex swings Toomey's pipe HARD at a much bigger GAS LINE right behind the gas heater, leaving it badly cracked. The hiss magnified 100% nos. ALEX (CONT'D) We're going to play a little game called "Who's got the Scar." TOOMEY What Scar? What fucking scar? ALEX (buzzer sound) AAAANK. That's not how we play the game. Alex jacks Toomey's sleeve down. No Scar. Alex pissed as Toomey locks eyes with him. Really seeing him now. TOOMEY You're him! You're Corvis! We fried your ass. You're dead, man! ALEX Good thing in a situation like this. We pick up... ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- 69. INT. "THE HOLE" - BACK ROOM - NIGHT Some light filters in as a door opens to the outside. A FIGURE enters, squats among the bodies. He leans in, closes larkin's eyes, and we see... It's Madden. Blood on his hands. He hears Alex's VOICE faintly, then Toomey cries out in pain. Madden moves toward... INT. "THE HOLE" - INTERNET PORN FACILITY - NIGHT Madden creeps down the hallway to the back room. VOICES growing louder. TOOMEY Fucking Zombie. ALEX The scar. TOOMEY There is no scar. I'm telling you. As Madden moves toward the conversation, his face registers the slightest of smiles. MADDEN'S CREEPING POV MONITORS obliquely visible as he reaches the end of the hall by the Fantasy sets. The "Shower" monitor shows Alex and Toomey, visible through the trashed set, updated every six seconds. MADDEN SNIFFS gas. The HISS now audible along with Alex's voice. Madden smiles. Pulls out his 9mm. And BACKS UP, away from the Fantasy Sets toward the back room. Madden takes aim at... THE FIRST MONITOR The images is Alex threatening Toomey. Updating now--LOSING ALEX on the Monitor as he steps into frame in person, looks up and BAM! CROWVISION a speeding bullet passes narrowly by and... ANGLE - GROUND ZERO as the bullet hits the monitor in a shower of sparks, followed by... BOOM! A ROILING FIREBALL Seems to vaporize Alex before flying down the hallway right at CAMERA. Madden manages a couple steps in retreat before it blows him into the back room with a deafening roar. EXT. "THE HOLE" - INFERNO - NIGHT BOOM! Windows blow out in a gas fired inferno. A body flung out the rear door. BOOM! ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- 70. EXT. "THE HOLE" - NIGHT Interior/exterior being less meaningful than seconds ago. Walls crumbled, roof blown off. BRIGHT FIRE consumes the frame, consumes the bodies of downed cops, consumes every last bit of oxygen and life. Distant SIRENS draw closer. A SLOW SCAN, someone's OBSTRUCTED POV of Hell. INCLUDE ALEX watching from under a collapsed cinderblock wall that offers some protection from the flames, if not the heat. He looks, intent now, spotting... THE ARM WITH THE ZIGZAG SCARIFICATION sticking out of the rubble, murky through the flames, growing clearer as camera PUSHES, flames licking at it... ALEX tries to move toward the arm. Forced back by too- intense flame as another beam falls, the rubble shifts and... THE ARM WITH THE ZIGZAG SCARIFICATION skeletal now, baked down to bones. A dozen short metal rods on the ground under it. He picks a few up. THE CAPTAIN drawn now to... UNDER THE RUBBLE - WHERE ALEX WAS water dripping off the concrete, collecting in the place where Alex hid. But he's long gone. The Captain drops the rods. Satisfied it's over. CUT TO: EXT. CITY STREET #5 - NIGHT Alex staggers along in bad shape. Up ahead... A GIRL in her twenties exits a building down a flight of stairs, waits at the bottom for her BOYFRIEND, who's locking the door. She sees Alex, gives him an empathetic look. Alex walks slowly closer. ALEX'S INTERNAL POV Lauren appearing to him, playing their game. But the words are wrong, distorted. LAUREN Your witness list is no match for my kung fu. Her Bruce Lee "Oooo" a siren call. RESUME Alex moving slowly forward on the street, drawn toward the girl who watches with horrified fascination. ALEX I'm losing you. ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- 71. ALEX'S INTERNAL POV LAUREN Your zigzag love scar is no match for... Lauren and Alex drawing very close now when... RESUME WAM. A FIST clocks Alex in the face, dropping him hard onto the pavement. GIRL Did you have to do that? BOYFRIEND How about "thank you." GIRL He's bleeding. ALEX I don't bleed. BOYFRIEND And delirious. Better steer clear. ALEX'S POV The Guy wraps his arm protectively around the girl, walks her off. Running into a COP at the next intersection. They POINT at... ALEX takes off, ducking into an alley. Confused. CAMERA CREEPS BACKWARD as he gathers his thoughts. CUT TO: INT. WALSH'S OFFICE - NIGHT RATTLE RATTLE. Alex's shadow visible through the frosted glass, jostling the locked door. ALEX Erin! SMASH. His arm PUNCHES through the glass, turn the knob. Alex enters, arm bleeding badly. He yanks a large piece of glass from his flesh. Painful. Alex registers that the rules have changed. He finds a necktie of Walsh's, uses it to bind the wound, staunch the flow. He scans the room again looking for... Something. But everything seems ok. He passes... The Chess Box, the picture of Lauren and Alex gone. Just a piece of TAPE left, sticking to the top of the open lid. ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- 72. OVER THE CHESS BOARD - ALEX the missing pic lost on him, drawn to the chess board where Walsh collapsed. Something wrong with the game. He finds... THE BLACK KING Off the board. On top of a stack of news clippings lying on the floor. Alex picks it up, LEAVING a RING OF BLOOD under. CAMERA PUSHES on the clipping underneath, the headline "City Leaders Vow Crackdown in Wake of Randall Murder." PUSHING, finding among the City Leaders... ALEX (CONT'D) The King. THE CAPTAIN'S FACE circled in blood. Camera continues to PUSH on the grainy newsprint, through it, until all we see are halftone pixels and the picture loses meaning. EXT. CITY - AIRBORNE - NIGHT The Police Station in sinister CROWVISION as we approach, swoop in and... INT. POLICE STATION - HALLWAY Alex walks the long approach to the Captain's office, past the empty Secretary's desk. KICKING the door open CRASH! into... INT. POLICE STATION - CAPTAIN'S OFFICE The Captain works alone at his desk under a standing lamp. Looks up unconcerned as Alex enters, walks to the desk, and SLAPS down the ring-of-blood clipping. CAPTAIN I hate that picture. ALEX Where are they? CAPTAIN Can I get you something? A glass of water? A transfusion? ALEX Where are they? Last chance. CAPTAIN Or what? You'll bleed all over my carpet? The Captain rises. CAPTAIN (CONT'D) You know crime was actually down until you showed up, or stuck (MORE) ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- 73. CAPTAIN (CONT'D) around, or whatever the hell you're doing here. (then) What are you doing here? ALEX I'm looking for my friends. CAPTAIN See, I heard you were looking for some guy with a scar. How's that going? You find him? Yes? No? Alex tenses as the Captain starts toward him. CAPTAIN (CONT'D) You are like the guest who would not leave, you know that? And judging from your condition, maybe you've overstayed your welcome. That's not a criticism. Just an observation. Alex draws the knife from his clothes. CAPTAIN (CONT'D) I don't think you're going to use it. That's Lauren's knife. Enraged, Alex SWIPES the knife. The Captain grabs his arm right at the blood soaked necktie, squeezes hard. Alex writhes in pain. In each other's faces now. CAPTAIN (CONT'D) You come in here al lfull of righteous indignation, but what have you got to be righteous about? THE KNIFE starting to fall from Alex's hand as the Captain continues to clamp down on his wound. CAPTAIN (CONT'D) How many innocent people did you leave dead back there? ALEX You sent them. I had no choice. CAPTAIN Bullshit. You're a killer, that's all you are. A clown with a bird and a rising death toll. You think the world did you wrong?! You did the world wrong. The Captain snatches the knife, RAMS it into Alex's midriff. ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- 74. CAPTAIN (CONT'D) You and Lauren had a fight. You couldn't let it go. FLASH EXT. OLD GROWTH GROVE - DAY ALEX'S INTERNAL POV Lauren in tears in Alex's car. LAUREN I can't say. ALEX He grabs for her. She pulls violently away. LAUREN Don't touch me! RESUME INT. POLICE STATION - CAPTAIN'S OFFICE - NIGHT WHOOMP. Another stab into Alex. There will be fifty three. CAPTAIN It was one thing her dad rejected you. But when she did you lost it. ALEX You're wrong. CAPTAIN Yeah? I see doubt oozing out your arm. Where do people go when they kill their girlfriends? FLASH ALEX'S INTERNAL POV Alex back at the inferno, cowering from flames. RESUME The Captain full of righteous conviction. CAPTAIN (CONT'D) Screwed up kid stabs her fifty three times. Where would he end up? The Captain bent over Alex, stabbing him. ALEX'S INTERNAL POV (INTERCUT WITH PREVIOUS) FLASHES move us backward along the path we've taken so far, a tour of hell on earth, the blast of infernal winds and the ever-present voice of the Captain, condemning. CAPTAIN'S VOICE Take a look! Strippers writhe at "The Hole." ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- 75. CAPTAIN'S VOICE (CONT'D) That's who you are! The Porsche explodes. CAPTAIN'S VOICE (CONT'D) You sick fuck! Look at it! Alex blasts Dutton. BAM! CAPTAIN'S VOICE (CONT'D) Every loser name anyone ever called you was true! Alex escapes the taser. Mercer drops. CAPTAIN'S VOICE (CONT'D) Are you looking? Answer me! Time SCREECHING to a halt, all the movement converging on a single, quiet image. One we've seen before... Alex in the chair. But his last words are different. ALEX I loved Lauren. I never meant to hurt her. ZAP. Electro-spasm as the switch is thrown. No scar, no meltdown, just violent fibrillations that moderate, finally as we MATCH TO... RESUME - THE CAPTAIN'S OFFICE The Captain shaking Alex, holding something in front of Alex's face. CAPTAIN You see it? Huh? Did you see it? Alex's eye's gone dead, no longer seeing... THE PHOTO - LAUREN AND ALEX IN THE WOODS arms around each other. Familiar, but on second take, it's like the crime scene photos... Lauren's NECK is SLASHED, her body riddled with stab wounds. Alex has a big smile on his face, his arm around her, her head on his shoulder. 100% sociopath. RESUME CAPTAIN (CONT'D) Yeah. I think you fucking saw it. The Captain drops Alex lifeless and bloody to the floor. Only the sound of the Captain panting now, then... The sound of slow clapping. Madden walks into the room from behind perimeter curtains. CLAP CLAP CLAP. ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- 76. MADDEN You were right. Picture's worth a thousand words. Madden kicks Alex lightly, nudging him. No life signes. The Captain rips the picture in two. Tosses it in the trash. CAPTAIN Just don't believe everything you see. MADDEN Doubt is a motherfucker. CAPTAIN Give me a hand with this sack of shit. INT. MYSTERY ROOM - NIGHT NEW ANGLE - THROUGH A WINDOW DARKLY Madden and the Captain grab Alex, one at each end. SECRETARY He's cute. Was cute. REVEAL, this is the Secretary's POV through the window. She's bent over someone's toes, painting them BLUE. WIDE. The Mystery Room revealed. Taxidermy specimens line the wall and the table. Erin stands in PROFILE in the middle of the room, strangely silent, hands tied overhead by a rope that runs to the ceiling. The Secretary brushing polish on Erin's toes. SECRETARY (CONT'D) But the face, well, makeup can work for you or against you. Right? The Secretary applies a last flourish of polish, then stands, kisses Erin gently. SECRETARY (CONT'D) All done. Very nice. (then) You're a good listener. The Secretary moves off REVEALING... ERIN'S FACE MOUTH SEWN shut in a rough zigzag stitch, like the scar. Her eyes dart as... THE DOOR opens. The Captain and Madden carry Alex in. Madden sweeps the TAXIDERMY SPECIMENS back with his hand, clearing a space for Alex on the table. Among them... ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- 77. THE CROW on its Corvus Brachyrhynchos stand takes a small hop backward, this sign of life unnoticed as... RESUME WHUMP. Alex heaved onto the table. MADDEN So was he dead? Or alive? The Secretary puts her ear to Alex's lifeless lips. CAPTAIN I've seen birds stuffed and mounted so lifelike you'd swear you saw them breathing. This reminds him... he looks at the Crow on the stand. Lifeless, stuffed. As it should be. CAPTAIN (CONT'D) Maybe we had a case of that here. (to Secretary) Get me my kit. MADDEN You two are majorly demented. Anyone ever tell you that? The Secretary steps off to grab thekit, leaving Alex's lifeless open eyes pointing toward Erin, reflected in his eyeballs first before... ANGLE - ERIN looking up at her own hands, bound above her as she eases them apart and... The HEART SHAPED LOCKET slips from between her palms and she closes them again in time to catch the chain, the locket swinging. ON THE TABLE X-CLOSE. The locket reflected in Alex's lifeless open eyes a second before... The Secretary returns, blocking the sightline. Lays out the Kit, nasty looking tools left over from the Inquisition. Then unbuttons Alex's tattered shirt, undressing him for the procedure. Stab wounds everywhere. SECRETARY Fifty three? CAPTAIN In all the excitement I kind of lost count. (then) I think I'll mount him with his head up his ass. A large KNIFE, the Lauren murder weapon, angles in at the base of Alex'sneck where the Secretary's head was. ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- 78. THE CROW - OVERCRANKED moves on the table. Takes flight. THE TRIO turn toward the commotion. CAPTAIN (CONT'D) Grab it! THE LOCKET - OVERCRANKED Snatched in midair by the Crow from Erin's praying hands. FLASH! ALEX/CROW'S INTERNAL POV HIGH ANGLE CROWVISION. Dim memories from the woods. Anamorphic and dark. Two figures--Alex and Erin--kneeling. RESUME - THE LOCKET released from the Crow's beak, passing through the TRIO'S HANDS uncaught, bouncing off Alex onto the table, in front of his open eyes. ALEX/CROW'S INTERNAL POV FLASH. AT GROUND LEVEL. Alex fastens the LOCKET around her neck. The distortion lessening, becoming Alex's POV. ALEX ... it connects you to me... FLASH. ERIN No matter what happens... you're innocent... I promise... FLASH. Alex painting her face. RESUME Alex BLINKS. The Captain reacts--oh shit--starts to bring the knife down, a hurried strike at Alex's chest. WAM! Alex grabs the Captain's arm in his hand, stopping the movement on a dime. ALEX All lies. Everything you ever showed me. MADDEN pulls a gun, points it at Erin. ALEX jumps up, flying INTO the gun as it goes off. CRASH! They tumble THROUGH THE WINDOW into the Captain's office while... THE CAPTAIN cuts down the rope holding Erin. She collapses... ON THE TABLE strewn with blades, secreting one between her hands, in the second before... THE CAPTAIN drags Erin off. The Secretary flails at the Crow with a metal ROD, while... IN THE CAPTAIN'S OFFICE Madden has the gun on Alex now. BAM! No effect. BAM! ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- 79. Madden sweating it now, continuing to shoot with no effect as... THE MYSTERY ROOM The Secretary finally connects with the Crow, batting it against the wall, noticing this coincides with... Alex goes flying against the desk, winged himself. Madden c Onfused, not understanding. SECRETARY (O.S.) It's the bird! Kill it! Madden wheels, points the gun through the busted-out picture window into... The SECRETARY dives for cover as bullets explode around her. The Crow dancing, sprayed with debris. CUT TO: INT. POLICE STATION - ELEVATOR - NIGHT CLOSE. Floor lights sequence above the door, heading for underground parking. "5 - 4 - 3..." The Captain watches the lights. Erin is slumped face first against the side of the elevator opposite him. CAPTAIN You brought him back. Good. He owes you. We'll stick together, you and I. ON ERIN face pressed against the elevator wall, intent. CAPTAIN (CONT'D) Seen but not heard. They ought to make it a law. Erin winces, looks down... THE BLADE emerging from her sleeve as she tries to hold it with her two bound hands. DING. The elevator jerks to a stop. THE CAPTAIN grabs her off the floor and she RAMS the blade into his abdomen with the force of the entire body. Twists it. The elevator doors open. ERIN pulls out the blade, claws her way out the door, the Captain hanging on to her, finally getting free as she swipes at him again, drawing fresh blood. Running now, into... INT. POLICE STATION - PARKING GARAGE - NIGHT Erin stumbles between cars in the dark underground garage, cutting the cord off her hands, leaving it behind as... ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- 80. Behind her, the Captain unsteady on his feet, a wounded animal. He pulls out a GLOCK 9MM and KA-CHUNK. Cycles it. Erin dives between cars, scrambling on hands and knees. Looks around. HER POV - SCANNING a small garage with a few police cruisers by a SERVICE AREA and no people. A barred GATE over the exit. No way out. ERIN winces. Then stifles a cry as she cuts the stitches off her mouth with the knife. Drops the threads on the floor and moves off... CUT TO: INT. POLICE STATION - CAPTAIN'S OFFICE - NIGHT Alex runs past the glass AWARDS CASE, takes a flying leap behind the desk, seeking cover as Madden empties a clip at him. The slide ratchets back. Madden SLAMS another clip in, advances on Alex, hidden behind the shredded desk as... THE SECRETARY clears stuffed birds off the table trying to expose the wounded crow cowering back against the wall. SECRETARY Here pretty bird. Here birdy. WHOP! She grabs it, the Crow flapping desperately as... IN THE CAPTAIN'S OFFICE Madden creeps up on the desk, peers over it. Nothing. Out of nowhere... WAM! Alex rushes Madden, bulldozing him across the room with a pained cry of brute force toward... THE AWARDS CASE CRASH! Glass shatters as Alex hurls Madden, who swivels around in time to get off a last shot BAM! That collapses Alex to the floor. IN THE MYSTERY ROOM The Crow squeezes out of the Secretary's grasp, leaving her holding a couple feathers. AT THE AWARD'S CASE Alex hauls himself off the floor as the Crow joins him. Seeing... MADDEN'S HEAD has taken its place among glass bowls and trophies, half decapitated by the glass shelf it now rests on. Down the shelf from the stuffed bird. ALEX rushes through the blown out window into... Seeing for the first time that Erin is gone, the rope hanging from the ceiling, finding... THE SECRETARY ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- 81. SECRETARY (CONT'D) sitting on the floor, painting her own toenails BLUE, leaning up against the wall. ALEX Where'd they go? Alex eases the Secretary to her feet with a hand around her neck, her back to the wall. She looks UP, smiling at... WALSH - RIGHT ARM MISSING hangs high overhead from some kind of hook. His arm has been crudely removed. Underneath him, on the table, a BOX of 2" surgical stainless steel rods sits by a pool of blood. ALEX yells, reeling, as... The door flies open. A half dozen cops in, all targeting Alex as... THE SECRETARY plunges the Lauren KNIFE in Alex's back. He spins violently THROWING her HARD against the wall. WAM! Surprise!-she sticks. REVEAL, she's impaled on ANTELOPE ANTLERS, hanging off the wall. Her head drops, looking down as a stream of blood flows down her legs, drips off her toes... SECRETARY (dying words) My nails. BAM BAM BAM. The new arrivals open fire. Alex reaches over his shoulder, yanks out the knife with an odd slurping sound as... CUT TO: INT. POLICE STATION - PARKING GARAGE The sound of GUNFIRE filters down from above as the Captain hunts his hidden prey. He stops, studies... ERIN'S POV - LOW ANGLE LOOKING UNDER A CAR The Captain's feet, joined by his hand as he picks up the thread she left on the ground. INCLUDE ERIN SECRETARY reproving herself as she turns toward camera. She looks back under the car, but... The Captain's feet have moved off. Where? She listens, hears nothing. Slips off... NEW ANGLE - ERIN takes refuge in the service area, crouching behind stacks of TIRES. Knife at the ready. ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- 82. The Captain's FOOTSTEPS audible. HER OBSTRUCTED POV between stacks of tires, the Captain, Glock at ready, PASSES BY, moving out of sight. Footsteps RECEDING. Then silent. ERIN Listening, neurons firing. Cranes her neck to see. Nothing. WIDER the Captain appears BEHIND ERIN, over the stacks of tires. She's oblivious, then... Erin wheels, slashes across his wrist. The Glock falls, Erin grabs it, levels it at the Captain. Her finger tense on the trigger. CAPTAIN (re: gun) I know you too well. You won't do it. ERIN You don't know me at all. BAM! She pulls the trigger, simultaneously wrenching the gun, aiming just enough off that... THE CAPTAIN yells in pain, rushes his hand to his ear, a bloody mess. He starts advancing again toward her and Erin pulls... THE TRIGGER again, again, again.

backed

How many times the word 'backed' appears in the text?

Alex starts off... BAM! He's blown back by a shot half lost in the noisy club. No panic yet. ONSTAGE the strippers break character, looking. The audience turns as... ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- 63. NEAR THE ENTRANCE The First Bouncer goes flying above the heads of the crowd, getting off a dramatic SHOT while airborne, inducing... PANDEMONIUM Patrons stampeding as BAM BAM! Alex taking bullets, the miracle lost in the chaotic exit. The Bouncers out of sight underfoot. ON ALEX visible again, back on his feet. Buffeted, stationary as everyone flees. With the exodus still at flood stage... CUT TO: INT. WALSH'S OFFICE - NIGHT ON WALSH, in motion as he puts on a jacket, throws some papers into a briefcase. He's nervous, ill-suited for this cloak and dagger stuff, chattering... WALSH We'll be safe in my car. Nobody will recognize it. Let's move yours in back, no, down the block. Hope it's nothing fancy. There's a chop shop around the corner. She's looking elsewhere, at the door that has quietly opened. The Captain stands there. Somber reptile. Holding a sheaf of papers in one hand. ERIN You followed me here. CAPTAIN No... Erin, I put out a bulletin on your car because... there's bad news. And I thought you should hear it from me. She stares at him expressionless. CAPTAIN (CONT'D) Your father got involved with some bad cops. On my force, so I take responsibility. (beat, then) He killed himself. She talks with great difficulty. ERIN How? CAPTAIN How did he kill himself? She nods. ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- 64. CAPTAIN (CONT'D) With a gun. Is that what you mean? ERIN No. I mean... how did he kill himself How do you figure he killed himself--with a gun, right--when it wasn't anywhere near where you found him? He takes a step toward her. She pulls out the Blood Pistol. Seems crazy enough to use it. ERIN (CONT'D) You killed him. WALSH Erin. Don't. ERIN Back the fuck off! Now! The Captain stops, gently tosses the sheaf of papers toward her, onto Walsh's desk. The papers Nathan was preparing. Walsh looks at them while... CAPTAIN He left this. Names, addresses, a note to you. These people he was involved with killed Lauren. He couldn't bear it anymore. WALSH My God. He's right, it's all here. ERIN The note. Show it to me. Erin has one eye on the papers now, recognizes her dad's hand. The Captain inches forward. ERIN (CONT'D) (to Captain) Not you! (to Walsh) Show it to me. The Captain steps forward, right to the desk. Erin backed into a corner now. CAPTAIN It's right there, under that paper. (grabs a note) Here. Look. She holds a hand out for the note, taking her eye off the situation for one second as she reads... ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- 65. THE NOTE A bunch of numbers added together in her father's hand. Not a suicide note. THE CAPTAIN grabs Erin's wrist and BAM! A chunk of the ceiling falls as the weapon discharges. The Captain throws her in a chokehold, her finger still on the trigger. CAPTAIN (CONT'D) You were always the stupid one. She fights as the Captain wraps his own hand over hers, wrestles her arm toward Walsh, in the sights now. BAM! WALSH blown backward, collapsing by the Chess Board. Trying to pull himself up. Erin struggling. As... MADDEN enters from the hall, in a hurry, gun drawn. MADDEN You need help? He nods toward Walsh, who is moving, barely. CAPTAIN Hurry. We don't have much time. BAM. A shot from Madden drops Walsh for god. As Madden drags Walsh toward the door, the Captain grabs... THE PICTURE OF ALEX AND LAUREN pulled off the lid of the Chess box, one of the pieces of tape left behind. The Captain exits. CUT TO: INT. "THE HOLE" - NIGHT MUSIC STILL POUNDS, lights swirl. But the club has cleared out, leaving human detritus, a handful of casualties from the stampede. WITH ALEX as he steps over the Two Bouncers, expired on the floor. A soft WHIMPERING marks the silence. The girl cuffed onstage. Alex goes up to the terrified girl. Close up, she looks way underage. He gathers her clothes, spots a key on the floor. ALEX How old are you? She listens as he unlocks the cuffs. ALEX (CONT'D) You have one chance to value your life. Take it. ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- 66. He watches as she hightails it out the front door, still half naked. As she leaves... THE CROW appears in the doorway near the broken bodies. Alex takes a deep breath, as if it hurts. The casualties. CAW. The Crow flies on, disappearing into the back rooms. Alex turns, follows... INT. "THE HOLE" - BACKSTAGE - NIGHT Alex moves past the empty makeup table. A lipstick cigarette smolders in an ashtray. People left in a hurry. MUSIC LOUD, as if inside our heads now. Alex continues... INT. "THE HOLE" - INTERNET PORN FACILITY Nobody home. Empty images refreshed every six seconds. Number of hits static now. Alex drawn now by the "No Admittance" Curtain which he approaches slowly, touching it and FLASH! ALEX'S INTERNAL POV - LAUREN looking over her shoulder, pulling back the "No Admittance" Curtain, going where she shouldn't go. ALEX Lauren? You were here? Lauren makes her stealthy way into.... INT. "THE HOLE" - BACK HALL - NIGHT revealed as Alex slips past the Curtain, retracing Lauren's footsteps. CAMERA FOLLOWS Alex CREEPING down the hall to... ALEX'S INTERNAL POV - LAUREN down the hall, peering inside the partially open Back Room door, then turning back startled TOWARD CAMERA as if suddenly overtaken. AT THE DOOR Alex turns back, like Lauren, looks behind him. The hallway is empty. He enters... INT. "THE HOLE" - BACK ROOM - NIGHT Darkness. As Alex gropes for a lightswitch, a LIGHTER FLARES. Toomey and Larkin lean in, light up in synch. Alex takes in the dark fringes, dim reflections off lots of eyes. Not taxidermy specimens. BAM BAM BAM BAM. A dozen police officers lining the walls empty cartridges into Alex in an angry, STROBING fusillade. In the silence that follows... LARKIN (after the fact) Don't move. ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- 67. The gang LAUGHS. Larkin makes his way to a light switch by the door. LARKIN (CONT'D) Drinks are on me. Larkin flips on the low-watt BARE BULBS hanging down past industrial pipes and conduit, casting a dim light on the cinderblock space. NO ALEX. ALEX Cheers. They look up and... BAM! Alex DROPS LARKIN with a shot to the forehead. BAM! He MISSES TOOMEY as bullets from below EXPLODE all around him. Alex scampers across framing as... The BARE BULBS burst, all but one, plunging us back in to near darkness as Alex drops to the ground near Larkin's fallen body. Jacks up the sleeve. No scar. Alex spots Toomey, rolls out as... THREE COPS pump rounds into Alex. BAM! Alex takes the middle Cop out, a TOONEY-LIKE GUY who falls onto Toomey, behind him. ALEX turns, forced to defend himself as FULL AUTO FIRE breaks open, the other flank, more advancing cops. While... TOOMEY crawls out from under the fallen copy, then backs out the door on hands and knees while... A FINAL EXPLOSIVE FUSILLADE leaves only Alex standing. As the echoes dissolve... Alex Alex moves to where Toomey was, bends down to check the body... THE NAMEPLATE - "TOOMEY" But the pin isn't fastened properly. The badge askew. RESUME - ALEX rolls the body over, finds another nameplate underneath. "Hauser." Heads off in search of... ALEX (CONT'D) Toomey! INT - "THE HOLE" - INTERNET PORN FACILITY - NIGHT Toomey is clearing the "No Admittance" curtain when... ALEX You dripped something! Toomey panics as he approaches... ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- 68. INTERNET FANTASY SETS Monitors still updating every six seconds. Toomey hears Alex coming, slips through the "Dungeon." BEHIND THE SHOWER FANTASY SET Toomey takes refuge out of sight, next to a GAS HOT WATER HEATER, quiet as a mouse. ALEX tears the "No Admittance" curtain completely off its rod, arriving at the fantasy sets just in time to see... THE DUNGEON MONITOR Toomey (frozen) scurrying through. Gone now as the monitor updates. Then Alex appears, following him through the set... WITH ALEX moving to the rear of the "dungeon," on Toomey's heels. WAM. Toomey hits him full force with A PIPE, sending Alex sprawling backward, COLLAPSING the flimsy Shower set. WAM. Toomey swings again, misses Alex, but connects with... THE GAS LINE to the water heater ripped out by the blow. HISS. The sound of gas, loud, as the line breaks. RESUME Alex straddles Toomey, just as Toomey manages to get his gun pointed in Alex's face. Hissing gas nearby. CLICK. Toomey cocks the gun. ALEX (CONT'D) Spark, gas... bad combination. And it's not this leak here, that's the least of your worries. WAM! Alex swings Toomey's pipe HARD at a much bigger GAS LINE right behind the gas heater, leaving it badly cracked. The hiss magnified 100% nos. ALEX (CONT'D) We're going to play a little game called "Who's got the Scar." TOOMEY What Scar? What fucking scar? ALEX (buzzer sound) AAAANK. That's not how we play the game. Alex jacks Toomey's sleeve down. No Scar. Alex pissed as Toomey locks eyes with him. Really seeing him now. TOOMEY You're him! You're Corvis! We fried your ass. You're dead, man! ALEX Good thing in a situation like this. We pick up... ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- 69. INT. "THE HOLE" - BACK ROOM - NIGHT Some light filters in as a door opens to the outside. A FIGURE enters, squats among the bodies. He leans in, closes larkin's eyes, and we see... It's Madden. Blood on his hands. He hears Alex's VOICE faintly, then Toomey cries out in pain. Madden moves toward... INT. "THE HOLE" - INTERNET PORN FACILITY - NIGHT Madden creeps down the hallway to the back room. VOICES growing louder. TOOMEY Fucking Zombie. ALEX The scar. TOOMEY There is no scar. I'm telling you. As Madden moves toward the conversation, his face registers the slightest of smiles. MADDEN'S CREEPING POV MONITORS obliquely visible as he reaches the end of the hall by the Fantasy sets. The "Shower" monitor shows Alex and Toomey, visible through the trashed set, updated every six seconds. MADDEN SNIFFS gas. The HISS now audible along with Alex's voice. Madden smiles. Pulls out his 9mm. And BACKS UP, away from the Fantasy Sets toward the back room. Madden takes aim at... THE FIRST MONITOR The images is Alex threatening Toomey. Updating now--LOSING ALEX on the Monitor as he steps into frame in person, looks up and BAM! CROWVISION a speeding bullet passes narrowly by and... ANGLE - GROUND ZERO as the bullet hits the monitor in a shower of sparks, followed by... BOOM! A ROILING FIREBALL Seems to vaporize Alex before flying down the hallway right at CAMERA. Madden manages a couple steps in retreat before it blows him into the back room with a deafening roar. EXT. "THE HOLE" - INFERNO - NIGHT BOOM! Windows blow out in a gas fired inferno. A body flung out the rear door. BOOM! ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- 70. EXT. "THE HOLE" - NIGHT Interior/exterior being less meaningful than seconds ago. Walls crumbled, roof blown off. BRIGHT FIRE consumes the frame, consumes the bodies of downed cops, consumes every last bit of oxygen and life. Distant SIRENS draw closer. A SLOW SCAN, someone's OBSTRUCTED POV of Hell. INCLUDE ALEX watching from under a collapsed cinderblock wall that offers some protection from the flames, if not the heat. He looks, intent now, spotting... THE ARM WITH THE ZIGZAG SCARIFICATION sticking out of the rubble, murky through the flames, growing clearer as camera PUSHES, flames licking at it... ALEX tries to move toward the arm. Forced back by too- intense flame as another beam falls, the rubble shifts and... THE ARM WITH THE ZIGZAG SCARIFICATION skeletal now, baked down to bones. A dozen short metal rods on the ground under it. He picks a few up. THE CAPTAIN drawn now to... UNDER THE RUBBLE - WHERE ALEX WAS water dripping off the concrete, collecting in the place where Alex hid. But he's long gone. The Captain drops the rods. Satisfied it's over. CUT TO: EXT. CITY STREET #5 - NIGHT Alex staggers along in bad shape. Up ahead... A GIRL in her twenties exits a building down a flight of stairs, waits at the bottom for her BOYFRIEND, who's locking the door. She sees Alex, gives him an empathetic look. Alex walks slowly closer. ALEX'S INTERNAL POV Lauren appearing to him, playing their game. But the words are wrong, distorted. LAUREN Your witness list is no match for my kung fu. Her Bruce Lee "Oooo" a siren call. RESUME Alex moving slowly forward on the street, drawn toward the girl who watches with horrified fascination. ALEX I'm losing you. ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- 71. ALEX'S INTERNAL POV LAUREN Your zigzag love scar is no match for... Lauren and Alex drawing very close now when... RESUME WAM. A FIST clocks Alex in the face, dropping him hard onto the pavement. GIRL Did you have to do that? BOYFRIEND How about "thank you." GIRL He's bleeding. ALEX I don't bleed. BOYFRIEND And delirious. Better steer clear. ALEX'S POV The Guy wraps his arm protectively around the girl, walks her off. Running into a COP at the next intersection. They POINT at... ALEX takes off, ducking into an alley. Confused. CAMERA CREEPS BACKWARD as he gathers his thoughts. CUT TO: INT. WALSH'S OFFICE - NIGHT RATTLE RATTLE. Alex's shadow visible through the frosted glass, jostling the locked door. ALEX Erin! SMASH. His arm PUNCHES through the glass, turn the knob. Alex enters, arm bleeding badly. He yanks a large piece of glass from his flesh. Painful. Alex registers that the rules have changed. He finds a necktie of Walsh's, uses it to bind the wound, staunch the flow. He scans the room again looking for... Something. But everything seems ok. He passes... The Chess Box, the picture of Lauren and Alex gone. Just a piece of TAPE left, sticking to the top of the open lid. ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- 72. OVER THE CHESS BOARD - ALEX the missing pic lost on him, drawn to the chess board where Walsh collapsed. Something wrong with the game. He finds... THE BLACK KING Off the board. On top of a stack of news clippings lying on the floor. Alex picks it up, LEAVING a RING OF BLOOD under. CAMERA PUSHES on the clipping underneath, the headline "City Leaders Vow Crackdown in Wake of Randall Murder." PUSHING, finding among the City Leaders... ALEX (CONT'D) The King. THE CAPTAIN'S FACE circled in blood. Camera continues to PUSH on the grainy newsprint, through it, until all we see are halftone pixels and the picture loses meaning. EXT. CITY - AIRBORNE - NIGHT The Police Station in sinister CROWVISION as we approach, swoop in and... INT. POLICE STATION - HALLWAY Alex walks the long approach to the Captain's office, past the empty Secretary's desk. KICKING the door open CRASH! into... INT. POLICE STATION - CAPTAIN'S OFFICE The Captain works alone at his desk under a standing lamp. Looks up unconcerned as Alex enters, walks to the desk, and SLAPS down the ring-of-blood clipping. CAPTAIN I hate that picture. ALEX Where are they? CAPTAIN Can I get you something? A glass of water? A transfusion? ALEX Where are they? Last chance. CAPTAIN Or what? You'll bleed all over my carpet? The Captain rises. CAPTAIN (CONT'D) You know crime was actually down until you showed up, or stuck (MORE) ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- 73. CAPTAIN (CONT'D) around, or whatever the hell you're doing here. (then) What are you doing here? ALEX I'm looking for my friends. CAPTAIN See, I heard you were looking for some guy with a scar. How's that going? You find him? Yes? No? Alex tenses as the Captain starts toward him. CAPTAIN (CONT'D) You are like the guest who would not leave, you know that? And judging from your condition, maybe you've overstayed your welcome. That's not a criticism. Just an observation. Alex draws the knife from his clothes. CAPTAIN (CONT'D) I don't think you're going to use it. That's Lauren's knife. Enraged, Alex SWIPES the knife. The Captain grabs his arm right at the blood soaked necktie, squeezes hard. Alex writhes in pain. In each other's faces now. CAPTAIN (CONT'D) You come in here al lfull of righteous indignation, but what have you got to be righteous about? THE KNIFE starting to fall from Alex's hand as the Captain continues to clamp down on his wound. CAPTAIN (CONT'D) How many innocent people did you leave dead back there? ALEX You sent them. I had no choice. CAPTAIN Bullshit. You're a killer, that's all you are. A clown with a bird and a rising death toll. You think the world did you wrong?! You did the world wrong. The Captain snatches the knife, RAMS it into Alex's midriff. ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- 74. CAPTAIN (CONT'D) You and Lauren had a fight. You couldn't let it go. FLASH EXT. OLD GROWTH GROVE - DAY ALEX'S INTERNAL POV Lauren in tears in Alex's car. LAUREN I can't say. ALEX He grabs for her. She pulls violently away. LAUREN Don't touch me! RESUME INT. POLICE STATION - CAPTAIN'S OFFICE - NIGHT WHOOMP. Another stab into Alex. There will be fifty three. CAPTAIN It was one thing her dad rejected you. But when she did you lost it. ALEX You're wrong. CAPTAIN Yeah? I see doubt oozing out your arm. Where do people go when they kill their girlfriends? FLASH ALEX'S INTERNAL POV Alex back at the inferno, cowering from flames. RESUME The Captain full of righteous conviction. CAPTAIN (CONT'D) Screwed up kid stabs her fifty three times. Where would he end up? The Captain bent over Alex, stabbing him. ALEX'S INTERNAL POV (INTERCUT WITH PREVIOUS) FLASHES move us backward along the path we've taken so far, a tour of hell on earth, the blast of infernal winds and the ever-present voice of the Captain, condemning. CAPTAIN'S VOICE Take a look! Strippers writhe at "The Hole." ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- 75. CAPTAIN'S VOICE (CONT'D) That's who you are! The Porsche explodes. CAPTAIN'S VOICE (CONT'D) You sick fuck! Look at it! Alex blasts Dutton. BAM! CAPTAIN'S VOICE (CONT'D) Every loser name anyone ever called you was true! Alex escapes the taser. Mercer drops. CAPTAIN'S VOICE (CONT'D) Are you looking? Answer me! Time SCREECHING to a halt, all the movement converging on a single, quiet image. One we've seen before... Alex in the chair. But his last words are different. ALEX I loved Lauren. I never meant to hurt her. ZAP. Electro-spasm as the switch is thrown. No scar, no meltdown, just violent fibrillations that moderate, finally as we MATCH TO... RESUME - THE CAPTAIN'S OFFICE The Captain shaking Alex, holding something in front of Alex's face. CAPTAIN You see it? Huh? Did you see it? Alex's eye's gone dead, no longer seeing... THE PHOTO - LAUREN AND ALEX IN THE WOODS arms around each other. Familiar, but on second take, it's like the crime scene photos... Lauren's NECK is SLASHED, her body riddled with stab wounds. Alex has a big smile on his face, his arm around her, her head on his shoulder. 100% sociopath. RESUME CAPTAIN (CONT'D) Yeah. I think you fucking saw it. The Captain drops Alex lifeless and bloody to the floor. Only the sound of the Captain panting now, then... The sound of slow clapping. Madden walks into the room from behind perimeter curtains. CLAP CLAP CLAP. ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- 76. MADDEN You were right. Picture's worth a thousand words. Madden kicks Alex lightly, nudging him. No life signes. The Captain rips the picture in two. Tosses it in the trash. CAPTAIN Just don't believe everything you see. MADDEN Doubt is a motherfucker. CAPTAIN Give me a hand with this sack of shit. INT. MYSTERY ROOM - NIGHT NEW ANGLE - THROUGH A WINDOW DARKLY Madden and the Captain grab Alex, one at each end. SECRETARY He's cute. Was cute. REVEAL, this is the Secretary's POV through the window. She's bent over someone's toes, painting them BLUE. WIDE. The Mystery Room revealed. Taxidermy specimens line the wall and the table. Erin stands in PROFILE in the middle of the room, strangely silent, hands tied overhead by a rope that runs to the ceiling. The Secretary brushing polish on Erin's toes. SECRETARY (CONT'D) But the face, well, makeup can work for you or against you. Right? The Secretary applies a last flourish of polish, then stands, kisses Erin gently. SECRETARY (CONT'D) All done. Very nice. (then) You're a good listener. The Secretary moves off REVEALING... ERIN'S FACE MOUTH SEWN shut in a rough zigzag stitch, like the scar. Her eyes dart as... THE DOOR opens. The Captain and Madden carry Alex in. Madden sweeps the TAXIDERMY SPECIMENS back with his hand, clearing a space for Alex on the table. Among them... ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- 77. THE CROW on its Corvus Brachyrhynchos stand takes a small hop backward, this sign of life unnoticed as... RESUME WHUMP. Alex heaved onto the table. MADDEN So was he dead? Or alive? The Secretary puts her ear to Alex's lifeless lips. CAPTAIN I've seen birds stuffed and mounted so lifelike you'd swear you saw them breathing. This reminds him... he looks at the Crow on the stand. Lifeless, stuffed. As it should be. CAPTAIN (CONT'D) Maybe we had a case of that here. (to Secretary) Get me my kit. MADDEN You two are majorly demented. Anyone ever tell you that? The Secretary steps off to grab thekit, leaving Alex's lifeless open eyes pointing toward Erin, reflected in his eyeballs first before... ANGLE - ERIN looking up at her own hands, bound above her as she eases them apart and... The HEART SHAPED LOCKET slips from between her palms and she closes them again in time to catch the chain, the locket swinging. ON THE TABLE X-CLOSE. The locket reflected in Alex's lifeless open eyes a second before... The Secretary returns, blocking the sightline. Lays out the Kit, nasty looking tools left over from the Inquisition. Then unbuttons Alex's tattered shirt, undressing him for the procedure. Stab wounds everywhere. SECRETARY Fifty three? CAPTAIN In all the excitement I kind of lost count. (then) I think I'll mount him with his head up his ass. A large KNIFE, the Lauren murder weapon, angles in at the base of Alex'sneck where the Secretary's head was. ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- 78. THE CROW - OVERCRANKED moves on the table. Takes flight. THE TRIO turn toward the commotion. CAPTAIN (CONT'D) Grab it! THE LOCKET - OVERCRANKED Snatched in midair by the Crow from Erin's praying hands. FLASH! ALEX/CROW'S INTERNAL POV HIGH ANGLE CROWVISION. Dim memories from the woods. Anamorphic and dark. Two figures--Alex and Erin--kneeling. RESUME - THE LOCKET released from the Crow's beak, passing through the TRIO'S HANDS uncaught, bouncing off Alex onto the table, in front of his open eyes. ALEX/CROW'S INTERNAL POV FLASH. AT GROUND LEVEL. Alex fastens the LOCKET around her neck. The distortion lessening, becoming Alex's POV. ALEX ... it connects you to me... FLASH. ERIN No matter what happens... you're innocent... I promise... FLASH. Alex painting her face. RESUME Alex BLINKS. The Captain reacts--oh shit--starts to bring the knife down, a hurried strike at Alex's chest. WAM! Alex grabs the Captain's arm in his hand, stopping the movement on a dime. ALEX All lies. Everything you ever showed me. MADDEN pulls a gun, points it at Erin. ALEX jumps up, flying INTO the gun as it goes off. CRASH! They tumble THROUGH THE WINDOW into the Captain's office while... THE CAPTAIN cuts down the rope holding Erin. She collapses... ON THE TABLE strewn with blades, secreting one between her hands, in the second before... THE CAPTAIN drags Erin off. The Secretary flails at the Crow with a metal ROD, while... IN THE CAPTAIN'S OFFICE Madden has the gun on Alex now. BAM! No effect. BAM! ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- 79. Madden sweating it now, continuing to shoot with no effect as... THE MYSTERY ROOM The Secretary finally connects with the Crow, batting it against the wall, noticing this coincides with... Alex goes flying against the desk, winged himself. Madden c Onfused, not understanding. SECRETARY (O.S.) It's the bird! Kill it! Madden wheels, points the gun through the busted-out picture window into... The SECRETARY dives for cover as bullets explode around her. The Crow dancing, sprayed with debris. CUT TO: INT. POLICE STATION - ELEVATOR - NIGHT CLOSE. Floor lights sequence above the door, heading for underground parking. "5 - 4 - 3..." The Captain watches the lights. Erin is slumped face first against the side of the elevator opposite him. CAPTAIN You brought him back. Good. He owes you. We'll stick together, you and I. ON ERIN face pressed against the elevator wall, intent. CAPTAIN (CONT'D) Seen but not heard. They ought to make it a law. Erin winces, looks down... THE BLADE emerging from her sleeve as she tries to hold it with her two bound hands. DING. The elevator jerks to a stop. THE CAPTAIN grabs her off the floor and she RAMS the blade into his abdomen with the force of the entire body. Twists it. The elevator doors open. ERIN pulls out the blade, claws her way out the door, the Captain hanging on to her, finally getting free as she swipes at him again, drawing fresh blood. Running now, into... INT. POLICE STATION - PARKING GARAGE - NIGHT Erin stumbles between cars in the dark underground garage, cutting the cord off her hands, leaving it behind as... ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- 80. Behind her, the Captain unsteady on his feet, a wounded animal. He pulls out a GLOCK 9MM and KA-CHUNK. Cycles it. Erin dives between cars, scrambling on hands and knees. Looks around. HER POV - SCANNING a small garage with a few police cruisers by a SERVICE AREA and no people. A barred GATE over the exit. No way out. ERIN winces. Then stifles a cry as she cuts the stitches off her mouth with the knife. Drops the threads on the floor and moves off... CUT TO: INT. POLICE STATION - CAPTAIN'S OFFICE - NIGHT Alex runs past the glass AWARDS CASE, takes a flying leap behind the desk, seeking cover as Madden empties a clip at him. The slide ratchets back. Madden SLAMS another clip in, advances on Alex, hidden behind the shredded desk as... THE SECRETARY clears stuffed birds off the table trying to expose the wounded crow cowering back against the wall. SECRETARY Here pretty bird. Here birdy. WHOP! She grabs it, the Crow flapping desperately as... IN THE CAPTAIN'S OFFICE Madden creeps up on the desk, peers over it. Nothing. Out of nowhere... WAM! Alex rushes Madden, bulldozing him across the room with a pained cry of brute force toward... THE AWARDS CASE CRASH! Glass shatters as Alex hurls Madden, who swivels around in time to get off a last shot BAM! That collapses Alex to the floor. IN THE MYSTERY ROOM The Crow squeezes out of the Secretary's grasp, leaving her holding a couple feathers. AT THE AWARD'S CASE Alex hauls himself off the floor as the Crow joins him. Seeing... MADDEN'S HEAD has taken its place among glass bowls and trophies, half decapitated by the glass shelf it now rests on. Down the shelf from the stuffed bird. ALEX rushes through the blown out window into... Seeing for the first time that Erin is gone, the rope hanging from the ceiling, finding... THE SECRETARY ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- 81. SECRETARY (CONT'D) sitting on the floor, painting her own toenails BLUE, leaning up against the wall. ALEX Where'd they go? Alex eases the Secretary to her feet with a hand around her neck, her back to the wall. She looks UP, smiling at... WALSH - RIGHT ARM MISSING hangs high overhead from some kind of hook. His arm has been crudely removed. Underneath him, on the table, a BOX of 2" surgical stainless steel rods sits by a pool of blood. ALEX yells, reeling, as... The door flies open. A half dozen cops in, all targeting Alex as... THE SECRETARY plunges the Lauren KNIFE in Alex's back. He spins violently THROWING her HARD against the wall. WAM! Surprise!-she sticks. REVEAL, she's impaled on ANTELOPE ANTLERS, hanging off the wall. Her head drops, looking down as a stream of blood flows down her legs, drips off her toes... SECRETARY (dying words) My nails. BAM BAM BAM. The new arrivals open fire. Alex reaches over his shoulder, yanks out the knife with an odd slurping sound as... CUT TO: INT. POLICE STATION - PARKING GARAGE The sound of GUNFIRE filters down from above as the Captain hunts his hidden prey. He stops, studies... ERIN'S POV - LOW ANGLE LOOKING UNDER A CAR The Captain's feet, joined by his hand as he picks up the thread she left on the ground. INCLUDE ERIN SECRETARY reproving herself as she turns toward camera. She looks back under the car, but... The Captain's feet have moved off. Where? She listens, hears nothing. Slips off... NEW ANGLE - ERIN takes refuge in the service area, crouching behind stacks of TIRES. Knife at the ready. ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- 82. The Captain's FOOTSTEPS audible. HER OBSTRUCTED POV between stacks of tires, the Captain, Glock at ready, PASSES BY, moving out of sight. Footsteps RECEDING. Then silent. ERIN Listening, neurons firing. Cranes her neck to see. Nothing. WIDER the Captain appears BEHIND ERIN, over the stacks of tires. She's oblivious, then... Erin wheels, slashes across his wrist. The Glock falls, Erin grabs it, levels it at the Captain. Her finger tense on the trigger. CAPTAIN (re: gun) I know you too well. You won't do it. ERIN You don't know me at all. BAM! She pulls the trigger, simultaneously wrenching the gun, aiming just enough off that... THE CAPTAIN yells in pain, rushes his hand to his ear, a bloody mess. He starts advancing again toward her and Erin pulls... THE TRIGGER again, again, again.

barefooted

How many times the word 'barefooted' appears in the text?

Alex starts off... BAM! He's blown back by a shot half lost in the noisy club. No panic yet. ONSTAGE the strippers break character, looking. The audience turns as... ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- 63. NEAR THE ENTRANCE The First Bouncer goes flying above the heads of the crowd, getting off a dramatic SHOT while airborne, inducing... PANDEMONIUM Patrons stampeding as BAM BAM! Alex taking bullets, the miracle lost in the chaotic exit. The Bouncers out of sight underfoot. ON ALEX visible again, back on his feet. Buffeted, stationary as everyone flees. With the exodus still at flood stage... CUT TO: INT. WALSH'S OFFICE - NIGHT ON WALSH, in motion as he puts on a jacket, throws some papers into a briefcase. He's nervous, ill-suited for this cloak and dagger stuff, chattering... WALSH We'll be safe in my car. Nobody will recognize it. Let's move yours in back, no, down the block. Hope it's nothing fancy. There's a chop shop around the corner. She's looking elsewhere, at the door that has quietly opened. The Captain stands there. Somber reptile. Holding a sheaf of papers in one hand. ERIN You followed me here. CAPTAIN No... Erin, I put out a bulletin on your car because... there's bad news. And I thought you should hear it from me. She stares at him expressionless. CAPTAIN (CONT'D) Your father got involved with some bad cops. On my force, so I take responsibility. (beat, then) He killed himself. She talks with great difficulty. ERIN How? CAPTAIN How did he kill himself? She nods. ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- 64. CAPTAIN (CONT'D) With a gun. Is that what you mean? ERIN No. I mean... how did he kill himself How do you figure he killed himself--with a gun, right--when it wasn't anywhere near where you found him? He takes a step toward her. She pulls out the Blood Pistol. Seems crazy enough to use it. ERIN (CONT'D) You killed him. WALSH Erin. Don't. ERIN Back the fuck off! Now! The Captain stops, gently tosses the sheaf of papers toward her, onto Walsh's desk. The papers Nathan was preparing. Walsh looks at them while... CAPTAIN He left this. Names, addresses, a note to you. These people he was involved with killed Lauren. He couldn't bear it anymore. WALSH My God. He's right, it's all here. ERIN The note. Show it to me. Erin has one eye on the papers now, recognizes her dad's hand. The Captain inches forward. ERIN (CONT'D) (to Captain) Not you! (to Walsh) Show it to me. The Captain steps forward, right to the desk. Erin backed into a corner now. CAPTAIN It's right there, under that paper. (grabs a note) Here. Look. She holds a hand out for the note, taking her eye off the situation for one second as she reads... ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- 65. THE NOTE A bunch of numbers added together in her father's hand. Not a suicide note. THE CAPTAIN grabs Erin's wrist and BAM! A chunk of the ceiling falls as the weapon discharges. The Captain throws her in a chokehold, her finger still on the trigger. CAPTAIN (CONT'D) You were always the stupid one. She fights as the Captain wraps his own hand over hers, wrestles her arm toward Walsh, in the sights now. BAM! WALSH blown backward, collapsing by the Chess Board. Trying to pull himself up. Erin struggling. As... MADDEN enters from the hall, in a hurry, gun drawn. MADDEN You need help? He nods toward Walsh, who is moving, barely. CAPTAIN Hurry. We don't have much time. BAM. A shot from Madden drops Walsh for god. As Madden drags Walsh toward the door, the Captain grabs... THE PICTURE OF ALEX AND LAUREN pulled off the lid of the Chess box, one of the pieces of tape left behind. The Captain exits. CUT TO: INT. "THE HOLE" - NIGHT MUSIC STILL POUNDS, lights swirl. But the club has cleared out, leaving human detritus, a handful of casualties from the stampede. WITH ALEX as he steps over the Two Bouncers, expired on the floor. A soft WHIMPERING marks the silence. The girl cuffed onstage. Alex goes up to the terrified girl. Close up, she looks way underage. He gathers her clothes, spots a key on the floor. ALEX How old are you? She listens as he unlocks the cuffs. ALEX (CONT'D) You have one chance to value your life. Take it. ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- 66. He watches as she hightails it out the front door, still half naked. As she leaves... THE CROW appears in the doorway near the broken bodies. Alex takes a deep breath, as if it hurts. The casualties. CAW. The Crow flies on, disappearing into the back rooms. Alex turns, follows... INT. "THE HOLE" - BACKSTAGE - NIGHT Alex moves past the empty makeup table. A lipstick cigarette smolders in an ashtray. People left in a hurry. MUSIC LOUD, as if inside our heads now. Alex continues... INT. "THE HOLE" - INTERNET PORN FACILITY Nobody home. Empty images refreshed every six seconds. Number of hits static now. Alex drawn now by the "No Admittance" Curtain which he approaches slowly, touching it and FLASH! ALEX'S INTERNAL POV - LAUREN looking over her shoulder, pulling back the "No Admittance" Curtain, going where she shouldn't go. ALEX Lauren? You were here? Lauren makes her stealthy way into.... INT. "THE HOLE" - BACK HALL - NIGHT revealed as Alex slips past the Curtain, retracing Lauren's footsteps. CAMERA FOLLOWS Alex CREEPING down the hall to... ALEX'S INTERNAL POV - LAUREN down the hall, peering inside the partially open Back Room door, then turning back startled TOWARD CAMERA as if suddenly overtaken. AT THE DOOR Alex turns back, like Lauren, looks behind him. The hallway is empty. He enters... INT. "THE HOLE" - BACK ROOM - NIGHT Darkness. As Alex gropes for a lightswitch, a LIGHTER FLARES. Toomey and Larkin lean in, light up in synch. Alex takes in the dark fringes, dim reflections off lots of eyes. Not taxidermy specimens. BAM BAM BAM BAM. A dozen police officers lining the walls empty cartridges into Alex in an angry, STROBING fusillade. In the silence that follows... LARKIN (after the fact) Don't move. ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- 67. The gang LAUGHS. Larkin makes his way to a light switch by the door. LARKIN (CONT'D) Drinks are on me. Larkin flips on the low-watt BARE BULBS hanging down past industrial pipes and conduit, casting a dim light on the cinderblock space. NO ALEX. ALEX Cheers. They look up and... BAM! Alex DROPS LARKIN with a shot to the forehead. BAM! He MISSES TOOMEY as bullets from below EXPLODE all around him. Alex scampers across framing as... The BARE BULBS burst, all but one, plunging us back in to near darkness as Alex drops to the ground near Larkin's fallen body. Jacks up the sleeve. No scar. Alex spots Toomey, rolls out as... THREE COPS pump rounds into Alex. BAM! Alex takes the middle Cop out, a TOONEY-LIKE GUY who falls onto Toomey, behind him. ALEX turns, forced to defend himself as FULL AUTO FIRE breaks open, the other flank, more advancing cops. While... TOOMEY crawls out from under the fallen copy, then backs out the door on hands and knees while... A FINAL EXPLOSIVE FUSILLADE leaves only Alex standing. As the echoes dissolve... Alex Alex moves to where Toomey was, bends down to check the body... THE NAMEPLATE - "TOOMEY" But the pin isn't fastened properly. The badge askew. RESUME - ALEX rolls the body over, finds another nameplate underneath. "Hauser." Heads off in search of... ALEX (CONT'D) Toomey! INT - "THE HOLE" - INTERNET PORN FACILITY - NIGHT Toomey is clearing the "No Admittance" curtain when... ALEX You dripped something! Toomey panics as he approaches... ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- 68. INTERNET FANTASY SETS Monitors still updating every six seconds. Toomey hears Alex coming, slips through the "Dungeon." BEHIND THE SHOWER FANTASY SET Toomey takes refuge out of sight, next to a GAS HOT WATER HEATER, quiet as a mouse. ALEX tears the "No Admittance" curtain completely off its rod, arriving at the fantasy sets just in time to see... THE DUNGEON MONITOR Toomey (frozen) scurrying through. Gone now as the monitor updates. Then Alex appears, following him through the set... WITH ALEX moving to the rear of the "dungeon," on Toomey's heels. WAM. Toomey hits him full force with A PIPE, sending Alex sprawling backward, COLLAPSING the flimsy Shower set. WAM. Toomey swings again, misses Alex, but connects with... THE GAS LINE to the water heater ripped out by the blow. HISS. The sound of gas, loud, as the line breaks. RESUME Alex straddles Toomey, just as Toomey manages to get his gun pointed in Alex's face. Hissing gas nearby. CLICK. Toomey cocks the gun. ALEX (CONT'D) Spark, gas... bad combination. And it's not this leak here, that's the least of your worries. WAM! Alex swings Toomey's pipe HARD at a much bigger GAS LINE right behind the gas heater, leaving it badly cracked. The hiss magnified 100% nos. ALEX (CONT'D) We're going to play a little game called "Who's got the Scar." TOOMEY What Scar? What fucking scar? ALEX (buzzer sound) AAAANK. That's not how we play the game. Alex jacks Toomey's sleeve down. No Scar. Alex pissed as Toomey locks eyes with him. Really seeing him now. TOOMEY You're him! You're Corvis! We fried your ass. You're dead, man! ALEX Good thing in a situation like this. We pick up... ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- 69. INT. "THE HOLE" - BACK ROOM - NIGHT Some light filters in as a door opens to the outside. A FIGURE enters, squats among the bodies. He leans in, closes larkin's eyes, and we see... It's Madden. Blood on his hands. He hears Alex's VOICE faintly, then Toomey cries out in pain. Madden moves toward... INT. "THE HOLE" - INTERNET PORN FACILITY - NIGHT Madden creeps down the hallway to the back room. VOICES growing louder. TOOMEY Fucking Zombie. ALEX The scar. TOOMEY There is no scar. I'm telling you. As Madden moves toward the conversation, his face registers the slightest of smiles. MADDEN'S CREEPING POV MONITORS obliquely visible as he reaches the end of the hall by the Fantasy sets. The "Shower" monitor shows Alex and Toomey, visible through the trashed set, updated every six seconds. MADDEN SNIFFS gas. The HISS now audible along with Alex's voice. Madden smiles. Pulls out his 9mm. And BACKS UP, away from the Fantasy Sets toward the back room. Madden takes aim at... THE FIRST MONITOR The images is Alex threatening Toomey. Updating now--LOSING ALEX on the Monitor as he steps into frame in person, looks up and BAM! CROWVISION a speeding bullet passes narrowly by and... ANGLE - GROUND ZERO as the bullet hits the monitor in a shower of sparks, followed by... BOOM! A ROILING FIREBALL Seems to vaporize Alex before flying down the hallway right at CAMERA. Madden manages a couple steps in retreat before it blows him into the back room with a deafening roar. EXT. "THE HOLE" - INFERNO - NIGHT BOOM! Windows blow out in a gas fired inferno. A body flung out the rear door. BOOM! ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- 70. EXT. "THE HOLE" - NIGHT Interior/exterior being less meaningful than seconds ago. Walls crumbled, roof blown off. BRIGHT FIRE consumes the frame, consumes the bodies of downed cops, consumes every last bit of oxygen and life. Distant SIRENS draw closer. A SLOW SCAN, someone's OBSTRUCTED POV of Hell. INCLUDE ALEX watching from under a collapsed cinderblock wall that offers some protection from the flames, if not the heat. He looks, intent now, spotting... THE ARM WITH THE ZIGZAG SCARIFICATION sticking out of the rubble, murky through the flames, growing clearer as camera PUSHES, flames licking at it... ALEX tries to move toward the arm. Forced back by too- intense flame as another beam falls, the rubble shifts and... THE ARM WITH THE ZIGZAG SCARIFICATION skeletal now, baked down to bones. A dozen short metal rods on the ground under it. He picks a few up. THE CAPTAIN drawn now to... UNDER THE RUBBLE - WHERE ALEX WAS water dripping off the concrete, collecting in the place where Alex hid. But he's long gone. The Captain drops the rods. Satisfied it's over. CUT TO: EXT. CITY STREET #5 - NIGHT Alex staggers along in bad shape. Up ahead... A GIRL in her twenties exits a building down a flight of stairs, waits at the bottom for her BOYFRIEND, who's locking the door. She sees Alex, gives him an empathetic look. Alex walks slowly closer. ALEX'S INTERNAL POV Lauren appearing to him, playing their game. But the words are wrong, distorted. LAUREN Your witness list is no match for my kung fu. Her Bruce Lee "Oooo" a siren call. RESUME Alex moving slowly forward on the street, drawn toward the girl who watches with horrified fascination. ALEX I'm losing you. ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- 71. ALEX'S INTERNAL POV LAUREN Your zigzag love scar is no match for... Lauren and Alex drawing very close now when... RESUME WAM. A FIST clocks Alex in the face, dropping him hard onto the pavement. GIRL Did you have to do that? BOYFRIEND How about "thank you." GIRL He's bleeding. ALEX I don't bleed. BOYFRIEND And delirious. Better steer clear. ALEX'S POV The Guy wraps his arm protectively around the girl, walks her off. Running into a COP at the next intersection. They POINT at... ALEX takes off, ducking into an alley. Confused. CAMERA CREEPS BACKWARD as he gathers his thoughts. CUT TO: INT. WALSH'S OFFICE - NIGHT RATTLE RATTLE. Alex's shadow visible through the frosted glass, jostling the locked door. ALEX Erin! SMASH. His arm PUNCHES through the glass, turn the knob. Alex enters, arm bleeding badly. He yanks a large piece of glass from his flesh. Painful. Alex registers that the rules have changed. He finds a necktie of Walsh's, uses it to bind the wound, staunch the flow. He scans the room again looking for... Something. But everything seems ok. He passes... The Chess Box, the picture of Lauren and Alex gone. Just a piece of TAPE left, sticking to the top of the open lid. ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- 72. OVER THE CHESS BOARD - ALEX the missing pic lost on him, drawn to the chess board where Walsh collapsed. Something wrong with the game. He finds... THE BLACK KING Off the board. On top of a stack of news clippings lying on the floor. Alex picks it up, LEAVING a RING OF BLOOD under. CAMERA PUSHES on the clipping underneath, the headline "City Leaders Vow Crackdown in Wake of Randall Murder." PUSHING, finding among the City Leaders... ALEX (CONT'D) The King. THE CAPTAIN'S FACE circled in blood. Camera continues to PUSH on the grainy newsprint, through it, until all we see are halftone pixels and the picture loses meaning. EXT. CITY - AIRBORNE - NIGHT The Police Station in sinister CROWVISION as we approach, swoop in and... INT. POLICE STATION - HALLWAY Alex walks the long approach to the Captain's office, past the empty Secretary's desk. KICKING the door open CRASH! into... INT. POLICE STATION - CAPTAIN'S OFFICE The Captain works alone at his desk under a standing lamp. Looks up unconcerned as Alex enters, walks to the desk, and SLAPS down the ring-of-blood clipping. CAPTAIN I hate that picture. ALEX Where are they? CAPTAIN Can I get you something? A glass of water? A transfusion? ALEX Where are they? Last chance. CAPTAIN Or what? You'll bleed all over my carpet? The Captain rises. CAPTAIN (CONT'D) You know crime was actually down until you showed up, or stuck (MORE) ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- 73. CAPTAIN (CONT'D) around, or whatever the hell you're doing here. (then) What are you doing here? ALEX I'm looking for my friends. CAPTAIN See, I heard you were looking for some guy with a scar. How's that going? You find him? Yes? No? Alex tenses as the Captain starts toward him. CAPTAIN (CONT'D) You are like the guest who would not leave, you know that? And judging from your condition, maybe you've overstayed your welcome. That's not a criticism. Just an observation. Alex draws the knife from his clothes. CAPTAIN (CONT'D) I don't think you're going to use it. That's Lauren's knife. Enraged, Alex SWIPES the knife. The Captain grabs his arm right at the blood soaked necktie, squeezes hard. Alex writhes in pain. In each other's faces now. CAPTAIN (CONT'D) You come in here al lfull of righteous indignation, but what have you got to be righteous about? THE KNIFE starting to fall from Alex's hand as the Captain continues to clamp down on his wound. CAPTAIN (CONT'D) How many innocent people did you leave dead back there? ALEX You sent them. I had no choice. CAPTAIN Bullshit. You're a killer, that's all you are. A clown with a bird and a rising death toll. You think the world did you wrong?! You did the world wrong. The Captain snatches the knife, RAMS it into Alex's midriff. ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- 74. CAPTAIN (CONT'D) You and Lauren had a fight. You couldn't let it go. FLASH EXT. OLD GROWTH GROVE - DAY ALEX'S INTERNAL POV Lauren in tears in Alex's car. LAUREN I can't say. ALEX He grabs for her. She pulls violently away. LAUREN Don't touch me! RESUME INT. POLICE STATION - CAPTAIN'S OFFICE - NIGHT WHOOMP. Another stab into Alex. There will be fifty three. CAPTAIN It was one thing her dad rejected you. But when she did you lost it. ALEX You're wrong. CAPTAIN Yeah? I see doubt oozing out your arm. Where do people go when they kill their girlfriends? FLASH ALEX'S INTERNAL POV Alex back at the inferno, cowering from flames. RESUME The Captain full of righteous conviction. CAPTAIN (CONT'D) Screwed up kid stabs her fifty three times. Where would he end up? The Captain bent over Alex, stabbing him. ALEX'S INTERNAL POV (INTERCUT WITH PREVIOUS) FLASHES move us backward along the path we've taken so far, a tour of hell on earth, the blast of infernal winds and the ever-present voice of the Captain, condemning. CAPTAIN'S VOICE Take a look! Strippers writhe at "The Hole." ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- 75. CAPTAIN'S VOICE (CONT'D) That's who you are! The Porsche explodes. CAPTAIN'S VOICE (CONT'D) You sick fuck! Look at it! Alex blasts Dutton. BAM! CAPTAIN'S VOICE (CONT'D) Every loser name anyone ever called you was true! Alex escapes the taser. Mercer drops. CAPTAIN'S VOICE (CONT'D) Are you looking? Answer me! Time SCREECHING to a halt, all the movement converging on a single, quiet image. One we've seen before... Alex in the chair. But his last words are different. ALEX I loved Lauren. I never meant to hurt her. ZAP. Electro-spasm as the switch is thrown. No scar, no meltdown, just violent fibrillations that moderate, finally as we MATCH TO... RESUME - THE CAPTAIN'S OFFICE The Captain shaking Alex, holding something in front of Alex's face. CAPTAIN You see it? Huh? Did you see it? Alex's eye's gone dead, no longer seeing... THE PHOTO - LAUREN AND ALEX IN THE WOODS arms around each other. Familiar, but on second take, it's like the crime scene photos... Lauren's NECK is SLASHED, her body riddled with stab wounds. Alex has a big smile on his face, his arm around her, her head on his shoulder. 100% sociopath. RESUME CAPTAIN (CONT'D) Yeah. I think you fucking saw it. The Captain drops Alex lifeless and bloody to the floor. Only the sound of the Captain panting now, then... The sound of slow clapping. Madden walks into the room from behind perimeter curtains. CLAP CLAP CLAP. ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- 76. MADDEN You were right. Picture's worth a thousand words. Madden kicks Alex lightly, nudging him. No life signes. The Captain rips the picture in two. Tosses it in the trash. CAPTAIN Just don't believe everything you see. MADDEN Doubt is a motherfucker. CAPTAIN Give me a hand with this sack of shit. INT. MYSTERY ROOM - NIGHT NEW ANGLE - THROUGH A WINDOW DARKLY Madden and the Captain grab Alex, one at each end. SECRETARY He's cute. Was cute. REVEAL, this is the Secretary's POV through the window. She's bent over someone's toes, painting them BLUE. WIDE. The Mystery Room revealed. Taxidermy specimens line the wall and the table. Erin stands in PROFILE in the middle of the room, strangely silent, hands tied overhead by a rope that runs to the ceiling. The Secretary brushing polish on Erin's toes. SECRETARY (CONT'D) But the face, well, makeup can work for you or against you. Right? The Secretary applies a last flourish of polish, then stands, kisses Erin gently. SECRETARY (CONT'D) All done. Very nice. (then) You're a good listener. The Secretary moves off REVEALING... ERIN'S FACE MOUTH SEWN shut in a rough zigzag stitch, like the scar. Her eyes dart as... THE DOOR opens. The Captain and Madden carry Alex in. Madden sweeps the TAXIDERMY SPECIMENS back with his hand, clearing a space for Alex on the table. Among them... ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- 77. THE CROW on its Corvus Brachyrhynchos stand takes a small hop backward, this sign of life unnoticed as... RESUME WHUMP. Alex heaved onto the table. MADDEN So was he dead? Or alive? The Secretary puts her ear to Alex's lifeless lips. CAPTAIN I've seen birds stuffed and mounted so lifelike you'd swear you saw them breathing. This reminds him... he looks at the Crow on the stand. Lifeless, stuffed. As it should be. CAPTAIN (CONT'D) Maybe we had a case of that here. (to Secretary) Get me my kit. MADDEN You two are majorly demented. Anyone ever tell you that? The Secretary steps off to grab thekit, leaving Alex's lifeless open eyes pointing toward Erin, reflected in his eyeballs first before... ANGLE - ERIN looking up at her own hands, bound above her as she eases them apart and... The HEART SHAPED LOCKET slips from between her palms and she closes them again in time to catch the chain, the locket swinging. ON THE TABLE X-CLOSE. The locket reflected in Alex's lifeless open eyes a second before... The Secretary returns, blocking the sightline. Lays out the Kit, nasty looking tools left over from the Inquisition. Then unbuttons Alex's tattered shirt, undressing him for the procedure. Stab wounds everywhere. SECRETARY Fifty three? CAPTAIN In all the excitement I kind of lost count. (then) I think I'll mount him with his head up his ass. A large KNIFE, the Lauren murder weapon, angles in at the base of Alex'sneck where the Secretary's head was. ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- 78. THE CROW - OVERCRANKED moves on the table. Takes flight. THE TRIO turn toward the commotion. CAPTAIN (CONT'D) Grab it! THE LOCKET - OVERCRANKED Snatched in midair by the Crow from Erin's praying hands. FLASH! ALEX/CROW'S INTERNAL POV HIGH ANGLE CROWVISION. Dim memories from the woods. Anamorphic and dark. Two figures--Alex and Erin--kneeling. RESUME - THE LOCKET released from the Crow's beak, passing through the TRIO'S HANDS uncaught, bouncing off Alex onto the table, in front of his open eyes. ALEX/CROW'S INTERNAL POV FLASH. AT GROUND LEVEL. Alex fastens the LOCKET around her neck. The distortion lessening, becoming Alex's POV. ALEX ... it connects you to me... FLASH. ERIN No matter what happens... you're innocent... I promise... FLASH. Alex painting her face. RESUME Alex BLINKS. The Captain reacts--oh shit--starts to bring the knife down, a hurried strike at Alex's chest. WAM! Alex grabs the Captain's arm in his hand, stopping the movement on a dime. ALEX All lies. Everything you ever showed me. MADDEN pulls a gun, points it at Erin. ALEX jumps up, flying INTO the gun as it goes off. CRASH! They tumble THROUGH THE WINDOW into the Captain's office while... THE CAPTAIN cuts down the rope holding Erin. She collapses... ON THE TABLE strewn with blades, secreting one between her hands, in the second before... THE CAPTAIN drags Erin off. The Secretary flails at the Crow with a metal ROD, while... IN THE CAPTAIN'S OFFICE Madden has the gun on Alex now. BAM! No effect. BAM! ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- 79. Madden sweating it now, continuing to shoot with no effect as... THE MYSTERY ROOM The Secretary finally connects with the Crow, batting it against the wall, noticing this coincides with... Alex goes flying against the desk, winged himself. Madden c Onfused, not understanding. SECRETARY (O.S.) It's the bird! Kill it! Madden wheels, points the gun through the busted-out picture window into... The SECRETARY dives for cover as bullets explode around her. The Crow dancing, sprayed with debris. CUT TO: INT. POLICE STATION - ELEVATOR - NIGHT CLOSE. Floor lights sequence above the door, heading for underground parking. "5 - 4 - 3..." The Captain watches the lights. Erin is slumped face first against the side of the elevator opposite him. CAPTAIN You brought him back. Good. He owes you. We'll stick together, you and I. ON ERIN face pressed against the elevator wall, intent. CAPTAIN (CONT'D) Seen but not heard. They ought to make it a law. Erin winces, looks down... THE BLADE emerging from her sleeve as she tries to hold it with her two bound hands. DING. The elevator jerks to a stop. THE CAPTAIN grabs her off the floor and she RAMS the blade into his abdomen with the force of the entire body. Twists it. The elevator doors open. ERIN pulls out the blade, claws her way out the door, the Captain hanging on to her, finally getting free as she swipes at him again, drawing fresh blood. Running now, into... INT. POLICE STATION - PARKING GARAGE - NIGHT Erin stumbles between cars in the dark underground garage, cutting the cord off her hands, leaving it behind as... ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- 80. Behind her, the Captain unsteady on his feet, a wounded animal. He pulls out a GLOCK 9MM and KA-CHUNK. Cycles it. Erin dives between cars, scrambling on hands and knees. Looks around. HER POV - SCANNING a small garage with a few police cruisers by a SERVICE AREA and no people. A barred GATE over the exit. No way out. ERIN winces. Then stifles a cry as she cuts the stitches off her mouth with the knife. Drops the threads on the floor and moves off... CUT TO: INT. POLICE STATION - CAPTAIN'S OFFICE - NIGHT Alex runs past the glass AWARDS CASE, takes a flying leap behind the desk, seeking cover as Madden empties a clip at him. The slide ratchets back. Madden SLAMS another clip in, advances on Alex, hidden behind the shredded desk as... THE SECRETARY clears stuffed birds off the table trying to expose the wounded crow cowering back against the wall. SECRETARY Here pretty bird. Here birdy. WHOP! She grabs it, the Crow flapping desperately as... IN THE CAPTAIN'S OFFICE Madden creeps up on the desk, peers over it. Nothing. Out of nowhere... WAM! Alex rushes Madden, bulldozing him across the room with a pained cry of brute force toward... THE AWARDS CASE CRASH! Glass shatters as Alex hurls Madden, who swivels around in time to get off a last shot BAM! That collapses Alex to the floor. IN THE MYSTERY ROOM The Crow squeezes out of the Secretary's grasp, leaving her holding a couple feathers. AT THE AWARD'S CASE Alex hauls himself off the floor as the Crow joins him. Seeing... MADDEN'S HEAD has taken its place among glass bowls and trophies, half decapitated by the glass shelf it now rests on. Down the shelf from the stuffed bird. ALEX rushes through the blown out window into... Seeing for the first time that Erin is gone, the rope hanging from the ceiling, finding... THE SECRETARY ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- 81. SECRETARY (CONT'D) sitting on the floor, painting her own toenails BLUE, leaning up against the wall. ALEX Where'd they go? Alex eases the Secretary to her feet with a hand around her neck, her back to the wall. She looks UP, smiling at... WALSH - RIGHT ARM MISSING hangs high overhead from some kind of hook. His arm has been crudely removed. Underneath him, on the table, a BOX of 2" surgical stainless steel rods sits by a pool of blood. ALEX yells, reeling, as... The door flies open. A half dozen cops in, all targeting Alex as... THE SECRETARY plunges the Lauren KNIFE in Alex's back. He spins violently THROWING her HARD against the wall. WAM! Surprise!-she sticks. REVEAL, she's impaled on ANTELOPE ANTLERS, hanging off the wall. Her head drops, looking down as a stream of blood flows down her legs, drips off her toes... SECRETARY (dying words) My nails. BAM BAM BAM. The new arrivals open fire. Alex reaches over his shoulder, yanks out the knife with an odd slurping sound as... CUT TO: INT. POLICE STATION - PARKING GARAGE The sound of GUNFIRE filters down from above as the Captain hunts his hidden prey. He stops, studies... ERIN'S POV - LOW ANGLE LOOKING UNDER A CAR The Captain's feet, joined by his hand as he picks up the thread she left on the ground. INCLUDE ERIN SECRETARY reproving herself as she turns toward camera. She looks back under the car, but... The Captain's feet have moved off. Where? She listens, hears nothing. Slips off... NEW ANGLE - ERIN takes refuge in the service area, crouching behind stacks of TIRES. Knife at the ready. ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- 82. The Captain's FOOTSTEPS audible. HER OBSTRUCTED POV between stacks of tires, the Captain, Glock at ready, PASSES BY, moving out of sight. Footsteps RECEDING. Then silent. ERIN Listening, neurons firing. Cranes her neck to see. Nothing. WIDER the Captain appears BEHIND ERIN, over the stacks of tires. She's oblivious, then... Erin wheels, slashes across his wrist. The Glock falls, Erin grabs it, levels it at the Captain. Her finger tense on the trigger. CAPTAIN (re: gun) I know you too well. You won't do it. ERIN You don't know me at all. BAM! She pulls the trigger, simultaneously wrenching the gun, aiming just enough off that... THE CAPTAIN yells in pain, rushes his hand to his ear, a bloody mess. He starts advancing again toward her and Erin pulls... THE TRIGGER again, again, again.

advocated

How many times the word 'advocated' appears in the text?

Alex starts off... BAM! He's blown back by a shot half lost in the noisy club. No panic yet. ONSTAGE the strippers break character, looking. The audience turns as... ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- 63. NEAR THE ENTRANCE The First Bouncer goes flying above the heads of the crowd, getting off a dramatic SHOT while airborne, inducing... PANDEMONIUM Patrons stampeding as BAM BAM! Alex taking bullets, the miracle lost in the chaotic exit. The Bouncers out of sight underfoot. ON ALEX visible again, back on his feet. Buffeted, stationary as everyone flees. With the exodus still at flood stage... CUT TO: INT. WALSH'S OFFICE - NIGHT ON WALSH, in motion as he puts on a jacket, throws some papers into a briefcase. He's nervous, ill-suited for this cloak and dagger stuff, chattering... WALSH We'll be safe in my car. Nobody will recognize it. Let's move yours in back, no, down the block. Hope it's nothing fancy. There's a chop shop around the corner. She's looking elsewhere, at the door that has quietly opened. The Captain stands there. Somber reptile. Holding a sheaf of papers in one hand. ERIN You followed me here. CAPTAIN No... Erin, I put out a bulletin on your car because... there's bad news. And I thought you should hear it from me. She stares at him expressionless. CAPTAIN (CONT'D) Your father got involved with some bad cops. On my force, so I take responsibility. (beat, then) He killed himself. She talks with great difficulty. ERIN How? CAPTAIN How did he kill himself? She nods. ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- 64. CAPTAIN (CONT'D) With a gun. Is that what you mean? ERIN No. I mean... how did he kill himself How do you figure he killed himself--with a gun, right--when it wasn't anywhere near where you found him? He takes a step toward her. She pulls out the Blood Pistol. Seems crazy enough to use it. ERIN (CONT'D) You killed him. WALSH Erin. Don't. ERIN Back the fuck off! Now! The Captain stops, gently tosses the sheaf of papers toward her, onto Walsh's desk. The papers Nathan was preparing. Walsh looks at them while... CAPTAIN He left this. Names, addresses, a note to you. These people he was involved with killed Lauren. He couldn't bear it anymore. WALSH My God. He's right, it's all here. ERIN The note. Show it to me. Erin has one eye on the papers now, recognizes her dad's hand. The Captain inches forward. ERIN (CONT'D) (to Captain) Not you! (to Walsh) Show it to me. The Captain steps forward, right to the desk. Erin backed into a corner now. CAPTAIN It's right there, under that paper. (grabs a note) Here. Look. She holds a hand out for the note, taking her eye off the situation for one second as she reads... ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- 65. THE NOTE A bunch of numbers added together in her father's hand. Not a suicide note. THE CAPTAIN grabs Erin's wrist and BAM! A chunk of the ceiling falls as the weapon discharges. The Captain throws her in a chokehold, her finger still on the trigger. CAPTAIN (CONT'D) You were always the stupid one. She fights as the Captain wraps his own hand over hers, wrestles her arm toward Walsh, in the sights now. BAM! WALSH blown backward, collapsing by the Chess Board. Trying to pull himself up. Erin struggling. As... MADDEN enters from the hall, in a hurry, gun drawn. MADDEN You need help? He nods toward Walsh, who is moving, barely. CAPTAIN Hurry. We don't have much time. BAM. A shot from Madden drops Walsh for god. As Madden drags Walsh toward the door, the Captain grabs... THE PICTURE OF ALEX AND LAUREN pulled off the lid of the Chess box, one of the pieces of tape left behind. The Captain exits. CUT TO: INT. "THE HOLE" - NIGHT MUSIC STILL POUNDS, lights swirl. But the club has cleared out, leaving human detritus, a handful of casualties from the stampede. WITH ALEX as he steps over the Two Bouncers, expired on the floor. A soft WHIMPERING marks the silence. The girl cuffed onstage. Alex goes up to the terrified girl. Close up, she looks way underage. He gathers her clothes, spots a key on the floor. ALEX How old are you? She listens as he unlocks the cuffs. ALEX (CONT'D) You have one chance to value your life. Take it. ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- 66. He watches as she hightails it out the front door, still half naked. As she leaves... THE CROW appears in the doorway near the broken bodies. Alex takes a deep breath, as if it hurts. The casualties. CAW. The Crow flies on, disappearing into the back rooms. Alex turns, follows... INT. "THE HOLE" - BACKSTAGE - NIGHT Alex moves past the empty makeup table. A lipstick cigarette smolders in an ashtray. People left in a hurry. MUSIC LOUD, as if inside our heads now. Alex continues... INT. "THE HOLE" - INTERNET PORN FACILITY Nobody home. Empty images refreshed every six seconds. Number of hits static now. Alex drawn now by the "No Admittance" Curtain which he approaches slowly, touching it and FLASH! ALEX'S INTERNAL POV - LAUREN looking over her shoulder, pulling back the "No Admittance" Curtain, going where she shouldn't go. ALEX Lauren? You were here? Lauren makes her stealthy way into.... INT. "THE HOLE" - BACK HALL - NIGHT revealed as Alex slips past the Curtain, retracing Lauren's footsteps. CAMERA FOLLOWS Alex CREEPING down the hall to... ALEX'S INTERNAL POV - LAUREN down the hall, peering inside the partially open Back Room door, then turning back startled TOWARD CAMERA as if suddenly overtaken. AT THE DOOR Alex turns back, like Lauren, looks behind him. The hallway is empty. He enters... INT. "THE HOLE" - BACK ROOM - NIGHT Darkness. As Alex gropes for a lightswitch, a LIGHTER FLARES. Toomey and Larkin lean in, light up in synch. Alex takes in the dark fringes, dim reflections off lots of eyes. Not taxidermy specimens. BAM BAM BAM BAM. A dozen police officers lining the walls empty cartridges into Alex in an angry, STROBING fusillade. In the silence that follows... LARKIN (after the fact) Don't move. ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- 67. The gang LAUGHS. Larkin makes his way to a light switch by the door. LARKIN (CONT'D) Drinks are on me. Larkin flips on the low-watt BARE BULBS hanging down past industrial pipes and conduit, casting a dim light on the cinderblock space. NO ALEX. ALEX Cheers. They look up and... BAM! Alex DROPS LARKIN with a shot to the forehead. BAM! He MISSES TOOMEY as bullets from below EXPLODE all around him. Alex scampers across framing as... The BARE BULBS burst, all but one, plunging us back in to near darkness as Alex drops to the ground near Larkin's fallen body. Jacks up the sleeve. No scar. Alex spots Toomey, rolls out as... THREE COPS pump rounds into Alex. BAM! Alex takes the middle Cop out, a TOONEY-LIKE GUY who falls onto Toomey, behind him. ALEX turns, forced to defend himself as FULL AUTO FIRE breaks open, the other flank, more advancing cops. While... TOOMEY crawls out from under the fallen copy, then backs out the door on hands and knees while... A FINAL EXPLOSIVE FUSILLADE leaves only Alex standing. As the echoes dissolve... Alex Alex moves to where Toomey was, bends down to check the body... THE NAMEPLATE - "TOOMEY" But the pin isn't fastened properly. The badge askew. RESUME - ALEX rolls the body over, finds another nameplate underneath. "Hauser." Heads off in search of... ALEX (CONT'D) Toomey! INT - "THE HOLE" - INTERNET PORN FACILITY - NIGHT Toomey is clearing the "No Admittance" curtain when... ALEX You dripped something! Toomey panics as he approaches... ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- 68. INTERNET FANTASY SETS Monitors still updating every six seconds. Toomey hears Alex coming, slips through the "Dungeon." BEHIND THE SHOWER FANTASY SET Toomey takes refuge out of sight, next to a GAS HOT WATER HEATER, quiet as a mouse. ALEX tears the "No Admittance" curtain completely off its rod, arriving at the fantasy sets just in time to see... THE DUNGEON MONITOR Toomey (frozen) scurrying through. Gone now as the monitor updates. Then Alex appears, following him through the set... WITH ALEX moving to the rear of the "dungeon," on Toomey's heels. WAM. Toomey hits him full force with A PIPE, sending Alex sprawling backward, COLLAPSING the flimsy Shower set. WAM. Toomey swings again, misses Alex, but connects with... THE GAS LINE to the water heater ripped out by the blow. HISS. The sound of gas, loud, as the line breaks. RESUME Alex straddles Toomey, just as Toomey manages to get his gun pointed in Alex's face. Hissing gas nearby. CLICK. Toomey cocks the gun. ALEX (CONT'D) Spark, gas... bad combination. And it's not this leak here, that's the least of your worries. WAM! Alex swings Toomey's pipe HARD at a much bigger GAS LINE right behind the gas heater, leaving it badly cracked. The hiss magnified 100% nos. ALEX (CONT'D) We're going to play a little game called "Who's got the Scar." TOOMEY What Scar? What fucking scar? ALEX (buzzer sound) AAAANK. That's not how we play the game. Alex jacks Toomey's sleeve down. No Scar. Alex pissed as Toomey locks eyes with him. Really seeing him now. TOOMEY You're him! You're Corvis! We fried your ass. You're dead, man! ALEX Good thing in a situation like this. We pick up... ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- 69. INT. "THE HOLE" - BACK ROOM - NIGHT Some light filters in as a door opens to the outside. A FIGURE enters, squats among the bodies. He leans in, closes larkin's eyes, and we see... It's Madden. Blood on his hands. He hears Alex's VOICE faintly, then Toomey cries out in pain. Madden moves toward... INT. "THE HOLE" - INTERNET PORN FACILITY - NIGHT Madden creeps down the hallway to the back room. VOICES growing louder. TOOMEY Fucking Zombie. ALEX The scar. TOOMEY There is no scar. I'm telling you. As Madden moves toward the conversation, his face registers the slightest of smiles. MADDEN'S CREEPING POV MONITORS obliquely visible as he reaches the end of the hall by the Fantasy sets. The "Shower" monitor shows Alex and Toomey, visible through the trashed set, updated every six seconds. MADDEN SNIFFS gas. The HISS now audible along with Alex's voice. Madden smiles. Pulls out his 9mm. And BACKS UP, away from the Fantasy Sets toward the back room. Madden takes aim at... THE FIRST MONITOR The images is Alex threatening Toomey. Updating now--LOSING ALEX on the Monitor as he steps into frame in person, looks up and BAM! CROWVISION a speeding bullet passes narrowly by and... ANGLE - GROUND ZERO as the bullet hits the monitor in a shower of sparks, followed by... BOOM! A ROILING FIREBALL Seems to vaporize Alex before flying down the hallway right at CAMERA. Madden manages a couple steps in retreat before it blows him into the back room with a deafening roar. EXT. "THE HOLE" - INFERNO - NIGHT BOOM! Windows blow out in a gas fired inferno. A body flung out the rear door. BOOM! ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- 70. EXT. "THE HOLE" - NIGHT Interior/exterior being less meaningful than seconds ago. Walls crumbled, roof blown off. BRIGHT FIRE consumes the frame, consumes the bodies of downed cops, consumes every last bit of oxygen and life. Distant SIRENS draw closer. A SLOW SCAN, someone's OBSTRUCTED POV of Hell. INCLUDE ALEX watching from under a collapsed cinderblock wall that offers some protection from the flames, if not the heat. He looks, intent now, spotting... THE ARM WITH THE ZIGZAG SCARIFICATION sticking out of the rubble, murky through the flames, growing clearer as camera PUSHES, flames licking at it... ALEX tries to move toward the arm. Forced back by too- intense flame as another beam falls, the rubble shifts and... THE ARM WITH THE ZIGZAG SCARIFICATION skeletal now, baked down to bones. A dozen short metal rods on the ground under it. He picks a few up. THE CAPTAIN drawn now to... UNDER THE RUBBLE - WHERE ALEX WAS water dripping off the concrete, collecting in the place where Alex hid. But he's long gone. The Captain drops the rods. Satisfied it's over. CUT TO: EXT. CITY STREET #5 - NIGHT Alex staggers along in bad shape. Up ahead... A GIRL in her twenties exits a building down a flight of stairs, waits at the bottom for her BOYFRIEND, who's locking the door. She sees Alex, gives him an empathetic look. Alex walks slowly closer. ALEX'S INTERNAL POV Lauren appearing to him, playing their game. But the words are wrong, distorted. LAUREN Your witness list is no match for my kung fu. Her Bruce Lee "Oooo" a siren call. RESUME Alex moving slowly forward on the street, drawn toward the girl who watches with horrified fascination. ALEX I'm losing you. ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- 71. ALEX'S INTERNAL POV LAUREN Your zigzag love scar is no match for... Lauren and Alex drawing very close now when... RESUME WAM. A FIST clocks Alex in the face, dropping him hard onto the pavement. GIRL Did you have to do that? BOYFRIEND How about "thank you." GIRL He's bleeding. ALEX I don't bleed. BOYFRIEND And delirious. Better steer clear. ALEX'S POV The Guy wraps his arm protectively around the girl, walks her off. Running into a COP at the next intersection. They POINT at... ALEX takes off, ducking into an alley. Confused. CAMERA CREEPS BACKWARD as he gathers his thoughts. CUT TO: INT. WALSH'S OFFICE - NIGHT RATTLE RATTLE. Alex's shadow visible through the frosted glass, jostling the locked door. ALEX Erin! SMASH. His arm PUNCHES through the glass, turn the knob. Alex enters, arm bleeding badly. He yanks a large piece of glass from his flesh. Painful. Alex registers that the rules have changed. He finds a necktie of Walsh's, uses it to bind the wound, staunch the flow. He scans the room again looking for... Something. But everything seems ok. He passes... The Chess Box, the picture of Lauren and Alex gone. Just a piece of TAPE left, sticking to the top of the open lid. ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- 72. OVER THE CHESS BOARD - ALEX the missing pic lost on him, drawn to the chess board where Walsh collapsed. Something wrong with the game. He finds... THE BLACK KING Off the board. On top of a stack of news clippings lying on the floor. Alex picks it up, LEAVING a RING OF BLOOD under. CAMERA PUSHES on the clipping underneath, the headline "City Leaders Vow Crackdown in Wake of Randall Murder." PUSHING, finding among the City Leaders... ALEX (CONT'D) The King. THE CAPTAIN'S FACE circled in blood. Camera continues to PUSH on the grainy newsprint, through it, until all we see are halftone pixels and the picture loses meaning. EXT. CITY - AIRBORNE - NIGHT The Police Station in sinister CROWVISION as we approach, swoop in and... INT. POLICE STATION - HALLWAY Alex walks the long approach to the Captain's office, past the empty Secretary's desk. KICKING the door open CRASH! into... INT. POLICE STATION - CAPTAIN'S OFFICE The Captain works alone at his desk under a standing lamp. Looks up unconcerned as Alex enters, walks to the desk, and SLAPS down the ring-of-blood clipping. CAPTAIN I hate that picture. ALEX Where are they? CAPTAIN Can I get you something? A glass of water? A transfusion? ALEX Where are they? Last chance. CAPTAIN Or what? You'll bleed all over my carpet? The Captain rises. CAPTAIN (CONT'D) You know crime was actually down until you showed up, or stuck (MORE) ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- 73. CAPTAIN (CONT'D) around, or whatever the hell you're doing here. (then) What are you doing here? ALEX I'm looking for my friends. CAPTAIN See, I heard you were looking for some guy with a scar. How's that going? You find him? Yes? No? Alex tenses as the Captain starts toward him. CAPTAIN (CONT'D) You are like the guest who would not leave, you know that? And judging from your condition, maybe you've overstayed your welcome. That's not a criticism. Just an observation. Alex draws the knife from his clothes. CAPTAIN (CONT'D) I don't think you're going to use it. That's Lauren's knife. Enraged, Alex SWIPES the knife. The Captain grabs his arm right at the blood soaked necktie, squeezes hard. Alex writhes in pain. In each other's faces now. CAPTAIN (CONT'D) You come in here al lfull of righteous indignation, but what have you got to be righteous about? THE KNIFE starting to fall from Alex's hand as the Captain continues to clamp down on his wound. CAPTAIN (CONT'D) How many innocent people did you leave dead back there? ALEX You sent them. I had no choice. CAPTAIN Bullshit. You're a killer, that's all you are. A clown with a bird and a rising death toll. You think the world did you wrong?! You did the world wrong. The Captain snatches the knife, RAMS it into Alex's midriff. ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- 74. CAPTAIN (CONT'D) You and Lauren had a fight. You couldn't let it go. FLASH EXT. OLD GROWTH GROVE - DAY ALEX'S INTERNAL POV Lauren in tears in Alex's car. LAUREN I can't say. ALEX He grabs for her. She pulls violently away. LAUREN Don't touch me! RESUME INT. POLICE STATION - CAPTAIN'S OFFICE - NIGHT WHOOMP. Another stab into Alex. There will be fifty three. CAPTAIN It was one thing her dad rejected you. But when she did you lost it. ALEX You're wrong. CAPTAIN Yeah? I see doubt oozing out your arm. Where do people go when they kill their girlfriends? FLASH ALEX'S INTERNAL POV Alex back at the inferno, cowering from flames. RESUME The Captain full of righteous conviction. CAPTAIN (CONT'D) Screwed up kid stabs her fifty three times. Where would he end up? The Captain bent over Alex, stabbing him. ALEX'S INTERNAL POV (INTERCUT WITH PREVIOUS) FLASHES move us backward along the path we've taken so far, a tour of hell on earth, the blast of infernal winds and the ever-present voice of the Captain, condemning. CAPTAIN'S VOICE Take a look! Strippers writhe at "The Hole." ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- 75. CAPTAIN'S VOICE (CONT'D) That's who you are! The Porsche explodes. CAPTAIN'S VOICE (CONT'D) You sick fuck! Look at it! Alex blasts Dutton. BAM! CAPTAIN'S VOICE (CONT'D) Every loser name anyone ever called you was true! Alex escapes the taser. Mercer drops. CAPTAIN'S VOICE (CONT'D) Are you looking? Answer me! Time SCREECHING to a halt, all the movement converging on a single, quiet image. One we've seen before... Alex in the chair. But his last words are different. ALEX I loved Lauren. I never meant to hurt her. ZAP. Electro-spasm as the switch is thrown. No scar, no meltdown, just violent fibrillations that moderate, finally as we MATCH TO... RESUME - THE CAPTAIN'S OFFICE The Captain shaking Alex, holding something in front of Alex's face. CAPTAIN You see it? Huh? Did you see it? Alex's eye's gone dead, no longer seeing... THE PHOTO - LAUREN AND ALEX IN THE WOODS arms around each other. Familiar, but on second take, it's like the crime scene photos... Lauren's NECK is SLASHED, her body riddled with stab wounds. Alex has a big smile on his face, his arm around her, her head on his shoulder. 100% sociopath. RESUME CAPTAIN (CONT'D) Yeah. I think you fucking saw it. The Captain drops Alex lifeless and bloody to the floor. Only the sound of the Captain panting now, then... The sound of slow clapping. Madden walks into the room from behind perimeter curtains. CLAP CLAP CLAP. ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- 76. MADDEN You were right. Picture's worth a thousand words. Madden kicks Alex lightly, nudging him. No life signes. The Captain rips the picture in two. Tosses it in the trash. CAPTAIN Just don't believe everything you see. MADDEN Doubt is a motherfucker. CAPTAIN Give me a hand with this sack of shit. INT. MYSTERY ROOM - NIGHT NEW ANGLE - THROUGH A WINDOW DARKLY Madden and the Captain grab Alex, one at each end. SECRETARY He's cute. Was cute. REVEAL, this is the Secretary's POV through the window. She's bent over someone's toes, painting them BLUE. WIDE. The Mystery Room revealed. Taxidermy specimens line the wall and the table. Erin stands in PROFILE in the middle of the room, strangely silent, hands tied overhead by a rope that runs to the ceiling. The Secretary brushing polish on Erin's toes. SECRETARY (CONT'D) But the face, well, makeup can work for you or against you. Right? The Secretary applies a last flourish of polish, then stands, kisses Erin gently. SECRETARY (CONT'D) All done. Very nice. (then) You're a good listener. The Secretary moves off REVEALING... ERIN'S FACE MOUTH SEWN shut in a rough zigzag stitch, like the scar. Her eyes dart as... THE DOOR opens. The Captain and Madden carry Alex in. Madden sweeps the TAXIDERMY SPECIMENS back with his hand, clearing a space for Alex on the table. Among them... ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- 77. THE CROW on its Corvus Brachyrhynchos stand takes a small hop backward, this sign of life unnoticed as... RESUME WHUMP. Alex heaved onto the table. MADDEN So was he dead? Or alive? The Secretary puts her ear to Alex's lifeless lips. CAPTAIN I've seen birds stuffed and mounted so lifelike you'd swear you saw them breathing. This reminds him... he looks at the Crow on the stand. Lifeless, stuffed. As it should be. CAPTAIN (CONT'D) Maybe we had a case of that here. (to Secretary) Get me my kit. MADDEN You two are majorly demented. Anyone ever tell you that? The Secretary steps off to grab thekit, leaving Alex's lifeless open eyes pointing toward Erin, reflected in his eyeballs first before... ANGLE - ERIN looking up at her own hands, bound above her as she eases them apart and... The HEART SHAPED LOCKET slips from between her palms and she closes them again in time to catch the chain, the locket swinging. ON THE TABLE X-CLOSE. The locket reflected in Alex's lifeless open eyes a second before... The Secretary returns, blocking the sightline. Lays out the Kit, nasty looking tools left over from the Inquisition. Then unbuttons Alex's tattered shirt, undressing him for the procedure. Stab wounds everywhere. SECRETARY Fifty three? CAPTAIN In all the excitement I kind of lost count. (then) I think I'll mount him with his head up his ass. A large KNIFE, the Lauren murder weapon, angles in at the base of Alex'sneck where the Secretary's head was. ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- 78. THE CROW - OVERCRANKED moves on the table. Takes flight. THE TRIO turn toward the commotion. CAPTAIN (CONT'D) Grab it! THE LOCKET - OVERCRANKED Snatched in midair by the Crow from Erin's praying hands. FLASH! ALEX/CROW'S INTERNAL POV HIGH ANGLE CROWVISION. Dim memories from the woods. Anamorphic and dark. Two figures--Alex and Erin--kneeling. RESUME - THE LOCKET released from the Crow's beak, passing through the TRIO'S HANDS uncaught, bouncing off Alex onto the table, in front of his open eyes. ALEX/CROW'S INTERNAL POV FLASH. AT GROUND LEVEL. Alex fastens the LOCKET around her neck. The distortion lessening, becoming Alex's POV. ALEX ... it connects you to me... FLASH. ERIN No matter what happens... you're innocent... I promise... FLASH. Alex painting her face. RESUME Alex BLINKS. The Captain reacts--oh shit--starts to bring the knife down, a hurried strike at Alex's chest. WAM! Alex grabs the Captain's arm in his hand, stopping the movement on a dime. ALEX All lies. Everything you ever showed me. MADDEN pulls a gun, points it at Erin. ALEX jumps up, flying INTO the gun as it goes off. CRASH! They tumble THROUGH THE WINDOW into the Captain's office while... THE CAPTAIN cuts down the rope holding Erin. She collapses... ON THE TABLE strewn with blades, secreting one between her hands, in the second before... THE CAPTAIN drags Erin off. The Secretary flails at the Crow with a metal ROD, while... IN THE CAPTAIN'S OFFICE Madden has the gun on Alex now. BAM! No effect. BAM! ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- 79. Madden sweating it now, continuing to shoot with no effect as... THE MYSTERY ROOM The Secretary finally connects with the Crow, batting it against the wall, noticing this coincides with... Alex goes flying against the desk, winged himself. Madden c Onfused, not understanding. SECRETARY (O.S.) It's the bird! Kill it! Madden wheels, points the gun through the busted-out picture window into... The SECRETARY dives for cover as bullets explode around her. The Crow dancing, sprayed with debris. CUT TO: INT. POLICE STATION - ELEVATOR - NIGHT CLOSE. Floor lights sequence above the door, heading for underground parking. "5 - 4 - 3..." The Captain watches the lights. Erin is slumped face first against the side of the elevator opposite him. CAPTAIN You brought him back. Good. He owes you. We'll stick together, you and I. ON ERIN face pressed against the elevator wall, intent. CAPTAIN (CONT'D) Seen but not heard. They ought to make it a law. Erin winces, looks down... THE BLADE emerging from her sleeve as she tries to hold it with her two bound hands. DING. The elevator jerks to a stop. THE CAPTAIN grabs her off the floor and she RAMS the blade into his abdomen with the force of the entire body. Twists it. The elevator doors open. ERIN pulls out the blade, claws her way out the door, the Captain hanging on to her, finally getting free as she swipes at him again, drawing fresh blood. Running now, into... INT. POLICE STATION - PARKING GARAGE - NIGHT Erin stumbles between cars in the dark underground garage, cutting the cord off her hands, leaving it behind as... ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- 80. Behind her, the Captain unsteady on his feet, a wounded animal. He pulls out a GLOCK 9MM and KA-CHUNK. Cycles it. Erin dives between cars, scrambling on hands and knees. Looks around. HER POV - SCANNING a small garage with a few police cruisers by a SERVICE AREA and no people. A barred GATE over the exit. No way out. ERIN winces. Then stifles a cry as she cuts the stitches off her mouth with the knife. Drops the threads on the floor and moves off... CUT TO: INT. POLICE STATION - CAPTAIN'S OFFICE - NIGHT Alex runs past the glass AWARDS CASE, takes a flying leap behind the desk, seeking cover as Madden empties a clip at him. The slide ratchets back. Madden SLAMS another clip in, advances on Alex, hidden behind the shredded desk as... THE SECRETARY clears stuffed birds off the table trying to expose the wounded crow cowering back against the wall. SECRETARY Here pretty bird. Here birdy. WHOP! She grabs it, the Crow flapping desperately as... IN THE CAPTAIN'S OFFICE Madden creeps up on the desk, peers over it. Nothing. Out of nowhere... WAM! Alex rushes Madden, bulldozing him across the room with a pained cry of brute force toward... THE AWARDS CASE CRASH! Glass shatters as Alex hurls Madden, who swivels around in time to get off a last shot BAM! That collapses Alex to the floor. IN THE MYSTERY ROOM The Crow squeezes out of the Secretary's grasp, leaving her holding a couple feathers. AT THE AWARD'S CASE Alex hauls himself off the floor as the Crow joins him. Seeing... MADDEN'S HEAD has taken its place among glass bowls and trophies, half decapitated by the glass shelf it now rests on. Down the shelf from the stuffed bird. ALEX rushes through the blown out window into... Seeing for the first time that Erin is gone, the rope hanging from the ceiling, finding... THE SECRETARY ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- 81. SECRETARY (CONT'D) sitting on the floor, painting her own toenails BLUE, leaning up against the wall. ALEX Where'd they go? Alex eases the Secretary to her feet with a hand around her neck, her back to the wall. She looks UP, smiling at... WALSH - RIGHT ARM MISSING hangs high overhead from some kind of hook. His arm has been crudely removed. Underneath him, on the table, a BOX of 2" surgical stainless steel rods sits by a pool of blood. ALEX yells, reeling, as... The door flies open. A half dozen cops in, all targeting Alex as... THE SECRETARY plunges the Lauren KNIFE in Alex's back. He spins violently THROWING her HARD against the wall. WAM! Surprise!-she sticks. REVEAL, she's impaled on ANTELOPE ANTLERS, hanging off the wall. Her head drops, looking down as a stream of blood flows down her legs, drips off her toes... SECRETARY (dying words) My nails. BAM BAM BAM. The new arrivals open fire. Alex reaches over his shoulder, yanks out the knife with an odd slurping sound as... CUT TO: INT. POLICE STATION - PARKING GARAGE The sound of GUNFIRE filters down from above as the Captain hunts his hidden prey. He stops, studies... ERIN'S POV - LOW ANGLE LOOKING UNDER A CAR The Captain's feet, joined by his hand as he picks up the thread she left on the ground. INCLUDE ERIN SECRETARY reproving herself as she turns toward camera. She looks back under the car, but... The Captain's feet have moved off. Where? She listens, hears nothing. Slips off... NEW ANGLE - ERIN takes refuge in the service area, crouching behind stacks of TIRES. Knife at the ready. ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- 82. The Captain's FOOTSTEPS audible. HER OBSTRUCTED POV between stacks of tires, the Captain, Glock at ready, PASSES BY, moving out of sight. Footsteps RECEDING. Then silent. ERIN Listening, neurons firing. Cranes her neck to see. Nothing. WIDER the Captain appears BEHIND ERIN, over the stacks of tires. She's oblivious, then... Erin wheels, slashes across his wrist. The Glock falls, Erin grabs it, levels it at the Captain. Her finger tense on the trigger. CAPTAIN (re: gun) I know you too well. You won't do it. ERIN You don't know me at all. BAM! She pulls the trigger, simultaneously wrenching the gun, aiming just enough off that... THE CAPTAIN yells in pain, rushes his hand to his ear, a bloody mess. He starts advancing again toward her and Erin pulls... THE TRIGGER again, again, again.

exterior

How many times the word 'exterior' appears in the text?

Alex starts off... BAM! He's blown back by a shot half lost in the noisy club. No panic yet. ONSTAGE the strippers break character, looking. The audience turns as... ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- 63. NEAR THE ENTRANCE The First Bouncer goes flying above the heads of the crowd, getting off a dramatic SHOT while airborne, inducing... PANDEMONIUM Patrons stampeding as BAM BAM! Alex taking bullets, the miracle lost in the chaotic exit. The Bouncers out of sight underfoot. ON ALEX visible again, back on his feet. Buffeted, stationary as everyone flees. With the exodus still at flood stage... CUT TO: INT. WALSH'S OFFICE - NIGHT ON WALSH, in motion as he puts on a jacket, throws some papers into a briefcase. He's nervous, ill-suited for this cloak and dagger stuff, chattering... WALSH We'll be safe in my car. Nobody will recognize it. Let's move yours in back, no, down the block. Hope it's nothing fancy. There's a chop shop around the corner. She's looking elsewhere, at the door that has quietly opened. The Captain stands there. Somber reptile. Holding a sheaf of papers in one hand. ERIN You followed me here. CAPTAIN No... Erin, I put out a bulletin on your car because... there's bad news. And I thought you should hear it from me. She stares at him expressionless. CAPTAIN (CONT'D) Your father got involved with some bad cops. On my force, so I take responsibility. (beat, then) He killed himself. She talks with great difficulty. ERIN How? CAPTAIN How did he kill himself? She nods. ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- 64. CAPTAIN (CONT'D) With a gun. Is that what you mean? ERIN No. I mean... how did he kill himself How do you figure he killed himself--with a gun, right--when it wasn't anywhere near where you found him? He takes a step toward her. She pulls out the Blood Pistol. Seems crazy enough to use it. ERIN (CONT'D) You killed him. WALSH Erin. Don't. ERIN Back the fuck off! Now! The Captain stops, gently tosses the sheaf of papers toward her, onto Walsh's desk. The papers Nathan was preparing. Walsh looks at them while... CAPTAIN He left this. Names, addresses, a note to you. These people he was involved with killed Lauren. He couldn't bear it anymore. WALSH My God. He's right, it's all here. ERIN The note. Show it to me. Erin has one eye on the papers now, recognizes her dad's hand. The Captain inches forward. ERIN (CONT'D) (to Captain) Not you! (to Walsh) Show it to me. The Captain steps forward, right to the desk. Erin backed into a corner now. CAPTAIN It's right there, under that paper. (grabs a note) Here. Look. She holds a hand out for the note, taking her eye off the situation for one second as she reads... ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- 65. THE NOTE A bunch of numbers added together in her father's hand. Not a suicide note. THE CAPTAIN grabs Erin's wrist and BAM! A chunk of the ceiling falls as the weapon discharges. The Captain throws her in a chokehold, her finger still on the trigger. CAPTAIN (CONT'D) You were always the stupid one. She fights as the Captain wraps his own hand over hers, wrestles her arm toward Walsh, in the sights now. BAM! WALSH blown backward, collapsing by the Chess Board. Trying to pull himself up. Erin struggling. As... MADDEN enters from the hall, in a hurry, gun drawn. MADDEN You need help? He nods toward Walsh, who is moving, barely. CAPTAIN Hurry. We don't have much time. BAM. A shot from Madden drops Walsh for god. As Madden drags Walsh toward the door, the Captain grabs... THE PICTURE OF ALEX AND LAUREN pulled off the lid of the Chess box, one of the pieces of tape left behind. The Captain exits. CUT TO: INT. "THE HOLE" - NIGHT MUSIC STILL POUNDS, lights swirl. But the club has cleared out, leaving human detritus, a handful of casualties from the stampede. WITH ALEX as he steps over the Two Bouncers, expired on the floor. A soft WHIMPERING marks the silence. The girl cuffed onstage. Alex goes up to the terrified girl. Close up, she looks way underage. He gathers her clothes, spots a key on the floor. ALEX How old are you? She listens as he unlocks the cuffs. ALEX (CONT'D) You have one chance to value your life. Take it. ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- 66. He watches as she hightails it out the front door, still half naked. As she leaves... THE CROW appears in the doorway near the broken bodies. Alex takes a deep breath, as if it hurts. The casualties. CAW. The Crow flies on, disappearing into the back rooms. Alex turns, follows... INT. "THE HOLE" - BACKSTAGE - NIGHT Alex moves past the empty makeup table. A lipstick cigarette smolders in an ashtray. People left in a hurry. MUSIC LOUD, as if inside our heads now. Alex continues... INT. "THE HOLE" - INTERNET PORN FACILITY Nobody home. Empty images refreshed every six seconds. Number of hits static now. Alex drawn now by the "No Admittance" Curtain which he approaches slowly, touching it and FLASH! ALEX'S INTERNAL POV - LAUREN looking over her shoulder, pulling back the "No Admittance" Curtain, going where she shouldn't go. ALEX Lauren? You were here? Lauren makes her stealthy way into.... INT. "THE HOLE" - BACK HALL - NIGHT revealed as Alex slips past the Curtain, retracing Lauren's footsteps. CAMERA FOLLOWS Alex CREEPING down the hall to... ALEX'S INTERNAL POV - LAUREN down the hall, peering inside the partially open Back Room door, then turning back startled TOWARD CAMERA as if suddenly overtaken. AT THE DOOR Alex turns back, like Lauren, looks behind him. The hallway is empty. He enters... INT. "THE HOLE" - BACK ROOM - NIGHT Darkness. As Alex gropes for a lightswitch, a LIGHTER FLARES. Toomey and Larkin lean in, light up in synch. Alex takes in the dark fringes, dim reflections off lots of eyes. Not taxidermy specimens. BAM BAM BAM BAM. A dozen police officers lining the walls empty cartridges into Alex in an angry, STROBING fusillade. In the silence that follows... LARKIN (after the fact) Don't move. ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- 67. The gang LAUGHS. Larkin makes his way to a light switch by the door. LARKIN (CONT'D) Drinks are on me. Larkin flips on the low-watt BARE BULBS hanging down past industrial pipes and conduit, casting a dim light on the cinderblock space. NO ALEX. ALEX Cheers. They look up and... BAM! Alex DROPS LARKIN with a shot to the forehead. BAM! He MISSES TOOMEY as bullets from below EXPLODE all around him. Alex scampers across framing as... The BARE BULBS burst, all but one, plunging us back in to near darkness as Alex drops to the ground near Larkin's fallen body. Jacks up the sleeve. No scar. Alex spots Toomey, rolls out as... THREE COPS pump rounds into Alex. BAM! Alex takes the middle Cop out, a TOONEY-LIKE GUY who falls onto Toomey, behind him. ALEX turns, forced to defend himself as FULL AUTO FIRE breaks open, the other flank, more advancing cops. While... TOOMEY crawls out from under the fallen copy, then backs out the door on hands and knees while... A FINAL EXPLOSIVE FUSILLADE leaves only Alex standing. As the echoes dissolve... Alex Alex moves to where Toomey was, bends down to check the body... THE NAMEPLATE - "TOOMEY" But the pin isn't fastened properly. The badge askew. RESUME - ALEX rolls the body over, finds another nameplate underneath. "Hauser." Heads off in search of... ALEX (CONT'D) Toomey! INT - "THE HOLE" - INTERNET PORN FACILITY - NIGHT Toomey is clearing the "No Admittance" curtain when... ALEX You dripped something! Toomey panics as he approaches... ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- 68. INTERNET FANTASY SETS Monitors still updating every six seconds. Toomey hears Alex coming, slips through the "Dungeon." BEHIND THE SHOWER FANTASY SET Toomey takes refuge out of sight, next to a GAS HOT WATER HEATER, quiet as a mouse. ALEX tears the "No Admittance" curtain completely off its rod, arriving at the fantasy sets just in time to see... THE DUNGEON MONITOR Toomey (frozen) scurrying through. Gone now as the monitor updates. Then Alex appears, following him through the set... WITH ALEX moving to the rear of the "dungeon," on Toomey's heels. WAM. Toomey hits him full force with A PIPE, sending Alex sprawling backward, COLLAPSING the flimsy Shower set. WAM. Toomey swings again, misses Alex, but connects with... THE GAS LINE to the water heater ripped out by the blow. HISS. The sound of gas, loud, as the line breaks. RESUME Alex straddles Toomey, just as Toomey manages to get his gun pointed in Alex's face. Hissing gas nearby. CLICK. Toomey cocks the gun. ALEX (CONT'D) Spark, gas... bad combination. And it's not this leak here, that's the least of your worries. WAM! Alex swings Toomey's pipe HARD at a much bigger GAS LINE right behind the gas heater, leaving it badly cracked. The hiss magnified 100% nos. ALEX (CONT'D) We're going to play a little game called "Who's got the Scar." TOOMEY What Scar? What fucking scar? ALEX (buzzer sound) AAAANK. That's not how we play the game. Alex jacks Toomey's sleeve down. No Scar. Alex pissed as Toomey locks eyes with him. Really seeing him now. TOOMEY You're him! You're Corvis! We fried your ass. You're dead, man! ALEX Good thing in a situation like this. We pick up... ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- 69. INT. "THE HOLE" - BACK ROOM - NIGHT Some light filters in as a door opens to the outside. A FIGURE enters, squats among the bodies. He leans in, closes larkin's eyes, and we see... It's Madden. Blood on his hands. He hears Alex's VOICE faintly, then Toomey cries out in pain. Madden moves toward... INT. "THE HOLE" - INTERNET PORN FACILITY - NIGHT Madden creeps down the hallway to the back room. VOICES growing louder. TOOMEY Fucking Zombie. ALEX The scar. TOOMEY There is no scar. I'm telling you. As Madden moves toward the conversation, his face registers the slightest of smiles. MADDEN'S CREEPING POV MONITORS obliquely visible as he reaches the end of the hall by the Fantasy sets. The "Shower" monitor shows Alex and Toomey, visible through the trashed set, updated every six seconds. MADDEN SNIFFS gas. The HISS now audible along with Alex's voice. Madden smiles. Pulls out his 9mm. And BACKS UP, away from the Fantasy Sets toward the back room. Madden takes aim at... THE FIRST MONITOR The images is Alex threatening Toomey. Updating now--LOSING ALEX on the Monitor as he steps into frame in person, looks up and BAM! CROWVISION a speeding bullet passes narrowly by and... ANGLE - GROUND ZERO as the bullet hits the monitor in a shower of sparks, followed by... BOOM! A ROILING FIREBALL Seems to vaporize Alex before flying down the hallway right at CAMERA. Madden manages a couple steps in retreat before it blows him into the back room with a deafening roar. EXT. "THE HOLE" - INFERNO - NIGHT BOOM! Windows blow out in a gas fired inferno. A body flung out the rear door. BOOM! ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- 70. EXT. "THE HOLE" - NIGHT Interior/exterior being less meaningful than seconds ago. Walls crumbled, roof blown off. BRIGHT FIRE consumes the frame, consumes the bodies of downed cops, consumes every last bit of oxygen and life. Distant SIRENS draw closer. A SLOW SCAN, someone's OBSTRUCTED POV of Hell. INCLUDE ALEX watching from under a collapsed cinderblock wall that offers some protection from the flames, if not the heat. He looks, intent now, spotting... THE ARM WITH THE ZIGZAG SCARIFICATION sticking out of the rubble, murky through the flames, growing clearer as camera PUSHES, flames licking at it... ALEX tries to move toward the arm. Forced back by too- intense flame as another beam falls, the rubble shifts and... THE ARM WITH THE ZIGZAG SCARIFICATION skeletal now, baked down to bones. A dozen short metal rods on the ground under it. He picks a few up. THE CAPTAIN drawn now to... UNDER THE RUBBLE - WHERE ALEX WAS water dripping off the concrete, collecting in the place where Alex hid. But he's long gone. The Captain drops the rods. Satisfied it's over. CUT TO: EXT. CITY STREET #5 - NIGHT Alex staggers along in bad shape. Up ahead... A GIRL in her twenties exits a building down a flight of stairs, waits at the bottom for her BOYFRIEND, who's locking the door. She sees Alex, gives him an empathetic look. Alex walks slowly closer. ALEX'S INTERNAL POV Lauren appearing to him, playing their game. But the words are wrong, distorted. LAUREN Your witness list is no match for my kung fu. Her Bruce Lee "Oooo" a siren call. RESUME Alex moving slowly forward on the street, drawn toward the girl who watches with horrified fascination. ALEX I'm losing you. ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- 71. ALEX'S INTERNAL POV LAUREN Your zigzag love scar is no match for... Lauren and Alex drawing very close now when... RESUME WAM. A FIST clocks Alex in the face, dropping him hard onto the pavement. GIRL Did you have to do that? BOYFRIEND How about "thank you." GIRL He's bleeding. ALEX I don't bleed. BOYFRIEND And delirious. Better steer clear. ALEX'S POV The Guy wraps his arm protectively around the girl, walks her off. Running into a COP at the next intersection. They POINT at... ALEX takes off, ducking into an alley. Confused. CAMERA CREEPS BACKWARD as he gathers his thoughts. CUT TO: INT. WALSH'S OFFICE - NIGHT RATTLE RATTLE. Alex's shadow visible through the frosted glass, jostling the locked door. ALEX Erin! SMASH. His arm PUNCHES through the glass, turn the knob. Alex enters, arm bleeding badly. He yanks a large piece of glass from his flesh. Painful. Alex registers that the rules have changed. He finds a necktie of Walsh's, uses it to bind the wound, staunch the flow. He scans the room again looking for... Something. But everything seems ok. He passes... The Chess Box, the picture of Lauren and Alex gone. Just a piece of TAPE left, sticking to the top of the open lid. ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- 72. OVER THE CHESS BOARD - ALEX the missing pic lost on him, drawn to the chess board where Walsh collapsed. Something wrong with the game. He finds... THE BLACK KING Off the board. On top of a stack of news clippings lying on the floor. Alex picks it up, LEAVING a RING OF BLOOD under. CAMERA PUSHES on the clipping underneath, the headline "City Leaders Vow Crackdown in Wake of Randall Murder." PUSHING, finding among the City Leaders... ALEX (CONT'D) The King. THE CAPTAIN'S FACE circled in blood. Camera continues to PUSH on the grainy newsprint, through it, until all we see are halftone pixels and the picture loses meaning. EXT. CITY - AIRBORNE - NIGHT The Police Station in sinister CROWVISION as we approach, swoop in and... INT. POLICE STATION - HALLWAY Alex walks the long approach to the Captain's office, past the empty Secretary's desk. KICKING the door open CRASH! into... INT. POLICE STATION - CAPTAIN'S OFFICE The Captain works alone at his desk under a standing lamp. Looks up unconcerned as Alex enters, walks to the desk, and SLAPS down the ring-of-blood clipping. CAPTAIN I hate that picture. ALEX Where are they? CAPTAIN Can I get you something? A glass of water? A transfusion? ALEX Where are they? Last chance. CAPTAIN Or what? You'll bleed all over my carpet? The Captain rises. CAPTAIN (CONT'D) You know crime was actually down until you showed up, or stuck (MORE) ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- 73. CAPTAIN (CONT'D) around, or whatever the hell you're doing here. (then) What are you doing here? ALEX I'm looking for my friends. CAPTAIN See, I heard you were looking for some guy with a scar. How's that going? You find him? Yes? No? Alex tenses as the Captain starts toward him. CAPTAIN (CONT'D) You are like the guest who would not leave, you know that? And judging from your condition, maybe you've overstayed your welcome. That's not a criticism. Just an observation. Alex draws the knife from his clothes. CAPTAIN (CONT'D) I don't think you're going to use it. That's Lauren's knife. Enraged, Alex SWIPES the knife. The Captain grabs his arm right at the blood soaked necktie, squeezes hard. Alex writhes in pain. In each other's faces now. CAPTAIN (CONT'D) You come in here al lfull of righteous indignation, but what have you got to be righteous about? THE KNIFE starting to fall from Alex's hand as the Captain continues to clamp down on his wound. CAPTAIN (CONT'D) How many innocent people did you leave dead back there? ALEX You sent them. I had no choice. CAPTAIN Bullshit. You're a killer, that's all you are. A clown with a bird and a rising death toll. You think the world did you wrong?! You did the world wrong. The Captain snatches the knife, RAMS it into Alex's midriff. ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- 74. CAPTAIN (CONT'D) You and Lauren had a fight. You couldn't let it go. FLASH EXT. OLD GROWTH GROVE - DAY ALEX'S INTERNAL POV Lauren in tears in Alex's car. LAUREN I can't say. ALEX He grabs for her. She pulls violently away. LAUREN Don't touch me! RESUME INT. POLICE STATION - CAPTAIN'S OFFICE - NIGHT WHOOMP. Another stab into Alex. There will be fifty three. CAPTAIN It was one thing her dad rejected you. But when she did you lost it. ALEX You're wrong. CAPTAIN Yeah? I see doubt oozing out your arm. Where do people go when they kill their girlfriends? FLASH ALEX'S INTERNAL POV Alex back at the inferno, cowering from flames. RESUME The Captain full of righteous conviction. CAPTAIN (CONT'D) Screwed up kid stabs her fifty three times. Where would he end up? The Captain bent over Alex, stabbing him. ALEX'S INTERNAL POV (INTERCUT WITH PREVIOUS) FLASHES move us backward along the path we've taken so far, a tour of hell on earth, the blast of infernal winds and the ever-present voice of the Captain, condemning. CAPTAIN'S VOICE Take a look! Strippers writhe at "The Hole." ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- 75. CAPTAIN'S VOICE (CONT'D) That's who you are! The Porsche explodes. CAPTAIN'S VOICE (CONT'D) You sick fuck! Look at it! Alex blasts Dutton. BAM! CAPTAIN'S VOICE (CONT'D) Every loser name anyone ever called you was true! Alex escapes the taser. Mercer drops. CAPTAIN'S VOICE (CONT'D) Are you looking? Answer me! Time SCREECHING to a halt, all the movement converging on a single, quiet image. One we've seen before... Alex in the chair. But his last words are different. ALEX I loved Lauren. I never meant to hurt her. ZAP. Electro-spasm as the switch is thrown. No scar, no meltdown, just violent fibrillations that moderate, finally as we MATCH TO... RESUME - THE CAPTAIN'S OFFICE The Captain shaking Alex, holding something in front of Alex's face. CAPTAIN You see it? Huh? Did you see it? Alex's eye's gone dead, no longer seeing... THE PHOTO - LAUREN AND ALEX IN THE WOODS arms around each other. Familiar, but on second take, it's like the crime scene photos... Lauren's NECK is SLASHED, her body riddled with stab wounds. Alex has a big smile on his face, his arm around her, her head on his shoulder. 100% sociopath. RESUME CAPTAIN (CONT'D) Yeah. I think you fucking saw it. The Captain drops Alex lifeless and bloody to the floor. Only the sound of the Captain panting now, then... The sound of slow clapping. Madden walks into the room from behind perimeter curtains. CLAP CLAP CLAP. ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- 76. MADDEN You were right. Picture's worth a thousand words. Madden kicks Alex lightly, nudging him. No life signes. The Captain rips the picture in two. Tosses it in the trash. CAPTAIN Just don't believe everything you see. MADDEN Doubt is a motherfucker. CAPTAIN Give me a hand with this sack of shit. INT. MYSTERY ROOM - NIGHT NEW ANGLE - THROUGH A WINDOW DARKLY Madden and the Captain grab Alex, one at each end. SECRETARY He's cute. Was cute. REVEAL, this is the Secretary's POV through the window. She's bent over someone's toes, painting them BLUE. WIDE. The Mystery Room revealed. Taxidermy specimens line the wall and the table. Erin stands in PROFILE in the middle of the room, strangely silent, hands tied overhead by a rope that runs to the ceiling. The Secretary brushing polish on Erin's toes. SECRETARY (CONT'D) But the face, well, makeup can work for you or against you. Right? The Secretary applies a last flourish of polish, then stands, kisses Erin gently. SECRETARY (CONT'D) All done. Very nice. (then) You're a good listener. The Secretary moves off REVEALING... ERIN'S FACE MOUTH SEWN shut in a rough zigzag stitch, like the scar. Her eyes dart as... THE DOOR opens. The Captain and Madden carry Alex in. Madden sweeps the TAXIDERMY SPECIMENS back with his hand, clearing a space for Alex on the table. Among them... ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- 77. THE CROW on its Corvus Brachyrhynchos stand takes a small hop backward, this sign of life unnoticed as... RESUME WHUMP. Alex heaved onto the table. MADDEN So was he dead? Or alive? The Secretary puts her ear to Alex's lifeless lips. CAPTAIN I've seen birds stuffed and mounted so lifelike you'd swear you saw them breathing. This reminds him... he looks at the Crow on the stand. Lifeless, stuffed. As it should be. CAPTAIN (CONT'D) Maybe we had a case of that here. (to Secretary) Get me my kit. MADDEN You two are majorly demented. Anyone ever tell you that? The Secretary steps off to grab thekit, leaving Alex's lifeless open eyes pointing toward Erin, reflected in his eyeballs first before... ANGLE - ERIN looking up at her own hands, bound above her as she eases them apart and... The HEART SHAPED LOCKET slips from between her palms and she closes them again in time to catch the chain, the locket swinging. ON THE TABLE X-CLOSE. The locket reflected in Alex's lifeless open eyes a second before... The Secretary returns, blocking the sightline. Lays out the Kit, nasty looking tools left over from the Inquisition. Then unbuttons Alex's tattered shirt, undressing him for the procedure. Stab wounds everywhere. SECRETARY Fifty three? CAPTAIN In all the excitement I kind of lost count. (then) I think I'll mount him with his head up his ass. A large KNIFE, the Lauren murder weapon, angles in at the base of Alex'sneck where the Secretary's head was. ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- 78. THE CROW - OVERCRANKED moves on the table. Takes flight. THE TRIO turn toward the commotion. CAPTAIN (CONT'D) Grab it! THE LOCKET - OVERCRANKED Snatched in midair by the Crow from Erin's praying hands. FLASH! ALEX/CROW'S INTERNAL POV HIGH ANGLE CROWVISION. Dim memories from the woods. Anamorphic and dark. Two figures--Alex and Erin--kneeling. RESUME - THE LOCKET released from the Crow's beak, passing through the TRIO'S HANDS uncaught, bouncing off Alex onto the table, in front of his open eyes. ALEX/CROW'S INTERNAL POV FLASH. AT GROUND LEVEL. Alex fastens the LOCKET around her neck. The distortion lessening, becoming Alex's POV. ALEX ... it connects you to me... FLASH. ERIN No matter what happens... you're innocent... I promise... FLASH. Alex painting her face. RESUME Alex BLINKS. The Captain reacts--oh shit--starts to bring the knife down, a hurried strike at Alex's chest. WAM! Alex grabs the Captain's arm in his hand, stopping the movement on a dime. ALEX All lies. Everything you ever showed me. MADDEN pulls a gun, points it at Erin. ALEX jumps up, flying INTO the gun as it goes off. CRASH! They tumble THROUGH THE WINDOW into the Captain's office while... THE CAPTAIN cuts down the rope holding Erin. She collapses... ON THE TABLE strewn with blades, secreting one between her hands, in the second before... THE CAPTAIN drags Erin off. The Secretary flails at the Crow with a metal ROD, while... IN THE CAPTAIN'S OFFICE Madden has the gun on Alex now. BAM! No effect. BAM! ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- 79. Madden sweating it now, continuing to shoot with no effect as... THE MYSTERY ROOM The Secretary finally connects with the Crow, batting it against the wall, noticing this coincides with... Alex goes flying against the desk, winged himself. Madden c Onfused, not understanding. SECRETARY (O.S.) It's the bird! Kill it! Madden wheels, points the gun through the busted-out picture window into... The SECRETARY dives for cover as bullets explode around her. The Crow dancing, sprayed with debris. CUT TO: INT. POLICE STATION - ELEVATOR - NIGHT CLOSE. Floor lights sequence above the door, heading for underground parking. "5 - 4 - 3..." The Captain watches the lights. Erin is slumped face first against the side of the elevator opposite him. CAPTAIN You brought him back. Good. He owes you. We'll stick together, you and I. ON ERIN face pressed against the elevator wall, intent. CAPTAIN (CONT'D) Seen but not heard. They ought to make it a law. Erin winces, looks down... THE BLADE emerging from her sleeve as she tries to hold it with her two bound hands. DING. The elevator jerks to a stop. THE CAPTAIN grabs her off the floor and she RAMS the blade into his abdomen with the force of the entire body. Twists it. The elevator doors open. ERIN pulls out the blade, claws her way out the door, the Captain hanging on to her, finally getting free as she swipes at him again, drawing fresh blood. Running now, into... INT. POLICE STATION - PARKING GARAGE - NIGHT Erin stumbles between cars in the dark underground garage, cutting the cord off her hands, leaving it behind as... ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- 80. Behind her, the Captain unsteady on his feet, a wounded animal. He pulls out a GLOCK 9MM and KA-CHUNK. Cycles it. Erin dives between cars, scrambling on hands and knees. Looks around. HER POV - SCANNING a small garage with a few police cruisers by a SERVICE AREA and no people. A barred GATE over the exit. No way out. ERIN winces. Then stifles a cry as she cuts the stitches off her mouth with the knife. Drops the threads on the floor and moves off... CUT TO: INT. POLICE STATION - CAPTAIN'S OFFICE - NIGHT Alex runs past the glass AWARDS CASE, takes a flying leap behind the desk, seeking cover as Madden empties a clip at him. The slide ratchets back. Madden SLAMS another clip in, advances on Alex, hidden behind the shredded desk as... THE SECRETARY clears stuffed birds off the table trying to expose the wounded crow cowering back against the wall. SECRETARY Here pretty bird. Here birdy. WHOP! She grabs it, the Crow flapping desperately as... IN THE CAPTAIN'S OFFICE Madden creeps up on the desk, peers over it. Nothing. Out of nowhere... WAM! Alex rushes Madden, bulldozing him across the room with a pained cry of brute force toward... THE AWARDS CASE CRASH! Glass shatters as Alex hurls Madden, who swivels around in time to get off a last shot BAM! That collapses Alex to the floor. IN THE MYSTERY ROOM The Crow squeezes out of the Secretary's grasp, leaving her holding a couple feathers. AT THE AWARD'S CASE Alex hauls himself off the floor as the Crow joins him. Seeing... MADDEN'S HEAD has taken its place among glass bowls and trophies, half decapitated by the glass shelf it now rests on. Down the shelf from the stuffed bird. ALEX rushes through the blown out window into... Seeing for the first time that Erin is gone, the rope hanging from the ceiling, finding... THE SECRETARY ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- 81. SECRETARY (CONT'D) sitting on the floor, painting her own toenails BLUE, leaning up against the wall. ALEX Where'd they go? Alex eases the Secretary to her feet with a hand around her neck, her back to the wall. She looks UP, smiling at... WALSH - RIGHT ARM MISSING hangs high overhead from some kind of hook. His arm has been crudely removed. Underneath him, on the table, a BOX of 2" surgical stainless steel rods sits by a pool of blood. ALEX yells, reeling, as... The door flies open. A half dozen cops in, all targeting Alex as... THE SECRETARY plunges the Lauren KNIFE in Alex's back. He spins violently THROWING her HARD against the wall. WAM! Surprise!-she sticks. REVEAL, she's impaled on ANTELOPE ANTLERS, hanging off the wall. Her head drops, looking down as a stream of blood flows down her legs, drips off her toes... SECRETARY (dying words) My nails. BAM BAM BAM. The new arrivals open fire. Alex reaches over his shoulder, yanks out the knife with an odd slurping sound as... CUT TO: INT. POLICE STATION - PARKING GARAGE The sound of GUNFIRE filters down from above as the Captain hunts his hidden prey. He stops, studies... ERIN'S POV - LOW ANGLE LOOKING UNDER A CAR The Captain's feet, joined by his hand as he picks up the thread she left on the ground. INCLUDE ERIN SECRETARY reproving herself as she turns toward camera. She looks back under the car, but... The Captain's feet have moved off. Where? She listens, hears nothing. Slips off... NEW ANGLE - ERIN takes refuge in the service area, crouching behind stacks of TIRES. Knife at the ready. ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- 82. The Captain's FOOTSTEPS audible. HER OBSTRUCTED POV between stacks of tires, the Captain, Glock at ready, PASSES BY, moving out of sight. Footsteps RECEDING. Then silent. ERIN Listening, neurons firing. Cranes her neck to see. Nothing. WIDER the Captain appears BEHIND ERIN, over the stacks of tires. She's oblivious, then... Erin wheels, slashes across his wrist. The Glock falls, Erin grabs it, levels it at the Captain. Her finger tense on the trigger. CAPTAIN (re: gun) I know you too well. You won't do it. ERIN You don't know me at all. BAM! She pulls the trigger, simultaneously wrenching the gun, aiming just enough off that... THE CAPTAIN yells in pain, rushes his hand to his ear, a bloody mess. He starts advancing again toward her and Erin pulls... THE TRIGGER again, again, again.

reptile

How many times the word 'reptile' appears in the text?

Alex starts off... BAM! He's blown back by a shot half lost in the noisy club. No panic yet. ONSTAGE the strippers break character, looking. The audience turns as... ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- 63. NEAR THE ENTRANCE The First Bouncer goes flying above the heads of the crowd, getting off a dramatic SHOT while airborne, inducing... PANDEMONIUM Patrons stampeding as BAM BAM! Alex taking bullets, the miracle lost in the chaotic exit. The Bouncers out of sight underfoot. ON ALEX visible again, back on his feet. Buffeted, stationary as everyone flees. With the exodus still at flood stage... CUT TO: INT. WALSH'S OFFICE - NIGHT ON WALSH, in motion as he puts on a jacket, throws some papers into a briefcase. He's nervous, ill-suited for this cloak and dagger stuff, chattering... WALSH We'll be safe in my car. Nobody will recognize it. Let's move yours in back, no, down the block. Hope it's nothing fancy. There's a chop shop around the corner. She's looking elsewhere, at the door that has quietly opened. The Captain stands there. Somber reptile. Holding a sheaf of papers in one hand. ERIN You followed me here. CAPTAIN No... Erin, I put out a bulletin on your car because... there's bad news. And I thought you should hear it from me. She stares at him expressionless. CAPTAIN (CONT'D) Your father got involved with some bad cops. On my force, so I take responsibility. (beat, then) He killed himself. She talks with great difficulty. ERIN How? CAPTAIN How did he kill himself? She nods. ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- 64. CAPTAIN (CONT'D) With a gun. Is that what you mean? ERIN No. I mean... how did he kill himself How do you figure he killed himself--with a gun, right--when it wasn't anywhere near where you found him? He takes a step toward her. She pulls out the Blood Pistol. Seems crazy enough to use it. ERIN (CONT'D) You killed him. WALSH Erin. Don't. ERIN Back the fuck off! Now! The Captain stops, gently tosses the sheaf of papers toward her, onto Walsh's desk. The papers Nathan was preparing. Walsh looks at them while... CAPTAIN He left this. Names, addresses, a note to you. These people he was involved with killed Lauren. He couldn't bear it anymore. WALSH My God. He's right, it's all here. ERIN The note. Show it to me. Erin has one eye on the papers now, recognizes her dad's hand. The Captain inches forward. ERIN (CONT'D) (to Captain) Not you! (to Walsh) Show it to me. The Captain steps forward, right to the desk. Erin backed into a corner now. CAPTAIN It's right there, under that paper. (grabs a note) Here. Look. She holds a hand out for the note, taking her eye off the situation for one second as she reads... ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- 65. THE NOTE A bunch of numbers added together in her father's hand. Not a suicide note. THE CAPTAIN grabs Erin's wrist and BAM! A chunk of the ceiling falls as the weapon discharges. The Captain throws her in a chokehold, her finger still on the trigger. CAPTAIN (CONT'D) You were always the stupid one. She fights as the Captain wraps his own hand over hers, wrestles her arm toward Walsh, in the sights now. BAM! WALSH blown backward, collapsing by the Chess Board. Trying to pull himself up. Erin struggling. As... MADDEN enters from the hall, in a hurry, gun drawn. MADDEN You need help? He nods toward Walsh, who is moving, barely. CAPTAIN Hurry. We don't have much time. BAM. A shot from Madden drops Walsh for god. As Madden drags Walsh toward the door, the Captain grabs... THE PICTURE OF ALEX AND LAUREN pulled off the lid of the Chess box, one of the pieces of tape left behind. The Captain exits. CUT TO: INT. "THE HOLE" - NIGHT MUSIC STILL POUNDS, lights swirl. But the club has cleared out, leaving human detritus, a handful of casualties from the stampede. WITH ALEX as he steps over the Two Bouncers, expired on the floor. A soft WHIMPERING marks the silence. The girl cuffed onstage. Alex goes up to the terrified girl. Close up, she looks way underage. He gathers her clothes, spots a key on the floor. ALEX How old are you? She listens as he unlocks the cuffs. ALEX (CONT'D) You have one chance to value your life. Take it. ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- 66. He watches as she hightails it out the front door, still half naked. As she leaves... THE CROW appears in the doorway near the broken bodies. Alex takes a deep breath, as if it hurts. The casualties. CAW. The Crow flies on, disappearing into the back rooms. Alex turns, follows... INT. "THE HOLE" - BACKSTAGE - NIGHT Alex moves past the empty makeup table. A lipstick cigarette smolders in an ashtray. People left in a hurry. MUSIC LOUD, as if inside our heads now. Alex continues... INT. "THE HOLE" - INTERNET PORN FACILITY Nobody home. Empty images refreshed every six seconds. Number of hits static now. Alex drawn now by the "No Admittance" Curtain which he approaches slowly, touching it and FLASH! ALEX'S INTERNAL POV - LAUREN looking over her shoulder, pulling back the "No Admittance" Curtain, going where she shouldn't go. ALEX Lauren? You were here? Lauren makes her stealthy way into.... INT. "THE HOLE" - BACK HALL - NIGHT revealed as Alex slips past the Curtain, retracing Lauren's footsteps. CAMERA FOLLOWS Alex CREEPING down the hall to... ALEX'S INTERNAL POV - LAUREN down the hall, peering inside the partially open Back Room door, then turning back startled TOWARD CAMERA as if suddenly overtaken. AT THE DOOR Alex turns back, like Lauren, looks behind him. The hallway is empty. He enters... INT. "THE HOLE" - BACK ROOM - NIGHT Darkness. As Alex gropes for a lightswitch, a LIGHTER FLARES. Toomey and Larkin lean in, light up in synch. Alex takes in the dark fringes, dim reflections off lots of eyes. Not taxidermy specimens. BAM BAM BAM BAM. A dozen police officers lining the walls empty cartridges into Alex in an angry, STROBING fusillade. In the silence that follows... LARKIN (after the fact) Don't move. ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- 67. The gang LAUGHS. Larkin makes his way to a light switch by the door. LARKIN (CONT'D) Drinks are on me. Larkin flips on the low-watt BARE BULBS hanging down past industrial pipes and conduit, casting a dim light on the cinderblock space. NO ALEX. ALEX Cheers. They look up and... BAM! Alex DROPS LARKIN with a shot to the forehead. BAM! He MISSES TOOMEY as bullets from below EXPLODE all around him. Alex scampers across framing as... The BARE BULBS burst, all but one, plunging us back in to near darkness as Alex drops to the ground near Larkin's fallen body. Jacks up the sleeve. No scar. Alex spots Toomey, rolls out as... THREE COPS pump rounds into Alex. BAM! Alex takes the middle Cop out, a TOONEY-LIKE GUY who falls onto Toomey, behind him. ALEX turns, forced to defend himself as FULL AUTO FIRE breaks open, the other flank, more advancing cops. While... TOOMEY crawls out from under the fallen copy, then backs out the door on hands and knees while... A FINAL EXPLOSIVE FUSILLADE leaves only Alex standing. As the echoes dissolve... Alex Alex moves to where Toomey was, bends down to check the body... THE NAMEPLATE - "TOOMEY" But the pin isn't fastened properly. The badge askew. RESUME - ALEX rolls the body over, finds another nameplate underneath. "Hauser." Heads off in search of... ALEX (CONT'D) Toomey! INT - "THE HOLE" - INTERNET PORN FACILITY - NIGHT Toomey is clearing the "No Admittance" curtain when... ALEX You dripped something! Toomey panics as he approaches... ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- 68. INTERNET FANTASY SETS Monitors still updating every six seconds. Toomey hears Alex coming, slips through the "Dungeon." BEHIND THE SHOWER FANTASY SET Toomey takes refuge out of sight, next to a GAS HOT WATER HEATER, quiet as a mouse. ALEX tears the "No Admittance" curtain completely off its rod, arriving at the fantasy sets just in time to see... THE DUNGEON MONITOR Toomey (frozen) scurrying through. Gone now as the monitor updates. Then Alex appears, following him through the set... WITH ALEX moving to the rear of the "dungeon," on Toomey's heels. WAM. Toomey hits him full force with A PIPE, sending Alex sprawling backward, COLLAPSING the flimsy Shower set. WAM. Toomey swings again, misses Alex, but connects with... THE GAS LINE to the water heater ripped out by the blow. HISS. The sound of gas, loud, as the line breaks. RESUME Alex straddles Toomey, just as Toomey manages to get his gun pointed in Alex's face. Hissing gas nearby. CLICK. Toomey cocks the gun. ALEX (CONT'D) Spark, gas... bad combination. And it's not this leak here, that's the least of your worries. WAM! Alex swings Toomey's pipe HARD at a much bigger GAS LINE right behind the gas heater, leaving it badly cracked. The hiss magnified 100% nos. ALEX (CONT'D) We're going to play a little game called "Who's got the Scar." TOOMEY What Scar? What fucking scar? ALEX (buzzer sound) AAAANK. That's not how we play the game. Alex jacks Toomey's sleeve down. No Scar. Alex pissed as Toomey locks eyes with him. Really seeing him now. TOOMEY You're him! You're Corvis! We fried your ass. You're dead, man! ALEX Good thing in a situation like this. We pick up... ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- 69. INT. "THE HOLE" - BACK ROOM - NIGHT Some light filters in as a door opens to the outside. A FIGURE enters, squats among the bodies. He leans in, closes larkin's eyes, and we see... It's Madden. Blood on his hands. He hears Alex's VOICE faintly, then Toomey cries out in pain. Madden moves toward... INT. "THE HOLE" - INTERNET PORN FACILITY - NIGHT Madden creeps down the hallway to the back room. VOICES growing louder. TOOMEY Fucking Zombie. ALEX The scar. TOOMEY There is no scar. I'm telling you. As Madden moves toward the conversation, his face registers the slightest of smiles. MADDEN'S CREEPING POV MONITORS obliquely visible as he reaches the end of the hall by the Fantasy sets. The "Shower" monitor shows Alex and Toomey, visible through the trashed set, updated every six seconds. MADDEN SNIFFS gas. The HISS now audible along with Alex's voice. Madden smiles. Pulls out his 9mm. And BACKS UP, away from the Fantasy Sets toward the back room. Madden takes aim at... THE FIRST MONITOR The images is Alex threatening Toomey. Updating now--LOSING ALEX on the Monitor as he steps into frame in person, looks up and BAM! CROWVISION a speeding bullet passes narrowly by and... ANGLE - GROUND ZERO as the bullet hits the monitor in a shower of sparks, followed by... BOOM! A ROILING FIREBALL Seems to vaporize Alex before flying down the hallway right at CAMERA. Madden manages a couple steps in retreat before it blows him into the back room with a deafening roar. EXT. "THE HOLE" - INFERNO - NIGHT BOOM! Windows blow out in a gas fired inferno. A body flung out the rear door. BOOM! ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- 70. EXT. "THE HOLE" - NIGHT Interior/exterior being less meaningful than seconds ago. Walls crumbled, roof blown off. BRIGHT FIRE consumes the frame, consumes the bodies of downed cops, consumes every last bit of oxygen and life. Distant SIRENS draw closer. A SLOW SCAN, someone's OBSTRUCTED POV of Hell. INCLUDE ALEX watching from under a collapsed cinderblock wall that offers some protection from the flames, if not the heat. He looks, intent now, spotting... THE ARM WITH THE ZIGZAG SCARIFICATION sticking out of the rubble, murky through the flames, growing clearer as camera PUSHES, flames licking at it... ALEX tries to move toward the arm. Forced back by too- intense flame as another beam falls, the rubble shifts and... THE ARM WITH THE ZIGZAG SCARIFICATION skeletal now, baked down to bones. A dozen short metal rods on the ground under it. He picks a few up. THE CAPTAIN drawn now to... UNDER THE RUBBLE - WHERE ALEX WAS water dripping off the concrete, collecting in the place where Alex hid. But he's long gone. The Captain drops the rods. Satisfied it's over. CUT TO: EXT. CITY STREET #5 - NIGHT Alex staggers along in bad shape. Up ahead... A GIRL in her twenties exits a building down a flight of stairs, waits at the bottom for her BOYFRIEND, who's locking the door. She sees Alex, gives him an empathetic look. Alex walks slowly closer. ALEX'S INTERNAL POV Lauren appearing to him, playing their game. But the words are wrong, distorted. LAUREN Your witness list is no match for my kung fu. Her Bruce Lee "Oooo" a siren call. RESUME Alex moving slowly forward on the street, drawn toward the girl who watches with horrified fascination. ALEX I'm losing you. ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- 71. ALEX'S INTERNAL POV LAUREN Your zigzag love scar is no match for... Lauren and Alex drawing very close now when... RESUME WAM. A FIST clocks Alex in the face, dropping him hard onto the pavement. GIRL Did you have to do that? BOYFRIEND How about "thank you." GIRL He's bleeding. ALEX I don't bleed. BOYFRIEND And delirious. Better steer clear. ALEX'S POV The Guy wraps his arm protectively around the girl, walks her off. Running into a COP at the next intersection. They POINT at... ALEX takes off, ducking into an alley. Confused. CAMERA CREEPS BACKWARD as he gathers his thoughts. CUT TO: INT. WALSH'S OFFICE - NIGHT RATTLE RATTLE. Alex's shadow visible through the frosted glass, jostling the locked door. ALEX Erin! SMASH. His arm PUNCHES through the glass, turn the knob. Alex enters, arm bleeding badly. He yanks a large piece of glass from his flesh. Painful. Alex registers that the rules have changed. He finds a necktie of Walsh's, uses it to bind the wound, staunch the flow. He scans the room again looking for... Something. But everything seems ok. He passes... The Chess Box, the picture of Lauren and Alex gone. Just a piece of TAPE left, sticking to the top of the open lid. ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- 72. OVER THE CHESS BOARD - ALEX the missing pic lost on him, drawn to the chess board where Walsh collapsed. Something wrong with the game. He finds... THE BLACK KING Off the board. On top of a stack of news clippings lying on the floor. Alex picks it up, LEAVING a RING OF BLOOD under. CAMERA PUSHES on the clipping underneath, the headline "City Leaders Vow Crackdown in Wake of Randall Murder." PUSHING, finding among the City Leaders... ALEX (CONT'D) The King. THE CAPTAIN'S FACE circled in blood. Camera continues to PUSH on the grainy newsprint, through it, until all we see are halftone pixels and the picture loses meaning. EXT. CITY - AIRBORNE - NIGHT The Police Station in sinister CROWVISION as we approach, swoop in and... INT. POLICE STATION - HALLWAY Alex walks the long approach to the Captain's office, past the empty Secretary's desk. KICKING the door open CRASH! into... INT. POLICE STATION - CAPTAIN'S OFFICE The Captain works alone at his desk under a standing lamp. Looks up unconcerned as Alex enters, walks to the desk, and SLAPS down the ring-of-blood clipping. CAPTAIN I hate that picture. ALEX Where are they? CAPTAIN Can I get you something? A glass of water? A transfusion? ALEX Where are they? Last chance. CAPTAIN Or what? You'll bleed all over my carpet? The Captain rises. CAPTAIN (CONT'D) You know crime was actually down until you showed up, or stuck (MORE) ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- 73. CAPTAIN (CONT'D) around, or whatever the hell you're doing here. (then) What are you doing here? ALEX I'm looking for my friends. CAPTAIN See, I heard you were looking for some guy with a scar. How's that going? You find him? Yes? No? Alex tenses as the Captain starts toward him. CAPTAIN (CONT'D) You are like the guest who would not leave, you know that? And judging from your condition, maybe you've overstayed your welcome. That's not a criticism. Just an observation. Alex draws the knife from his clothes. CAPTAIN (CONT'D) I don't think you're going to use it. That's Lauren's knife. Enraged, Alex SWIPES the knife. The Captain grabs his arm right at the blood soaked necktie, squeezes hard. Alex writhes in pain. In each other's faces now. CAPTAIN (CONT'D) You come in here al lfull of righteous indignation, but what have you got to be righteous about? THE KNIFE starting to fall from Alex's hand as the Captain continues to clamp down on his wound. CAPTAIN (CONT'D) How many innocent people did you leave dead back there? ALEX You sent them. I had no choice. CAPTAIN Bullshit. You're a killer, that's all you are. A clown with a bird and a rising death toll. You think the world did you wrong?! You did the world wrong. The Captain snatches the knife, RAMS it into Alex's midriff. ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- 74. CAPTAIN (CONT'D) You and Lauren had a fight. You couldn't let it go. FLASH EXT. OLD GROWTH GROVE - DAY ALEX'S INTERNAL POV Lauren in tears in Alex's car. LAUREN I can't say. ALEX He grabs for her. She pulls violently away. LAUREN Don't touch me! RESUME INT. POLICE STATION - CAPTAIN'S OFFICE - NIGHT WHOOMP. Another stab into Alex. There will be fifty three. CAPTAIN It was one thing her dad rejected you. But when she did you lost it. ALEX You're wrong. CAPTAIN Yeah? I see doubt oozing out your arm. Where do people go when they kill their girlfriends? FLASH ALEX'S INTERNAL POV Alex back at the inferno, cowering from flames. RESUME The Captain full of righteous conviction. CAPTAIN (CONT'D) Screwed up kid stabs her fifty three times. Where would he end up? The Captain bent over Alex, stabbing him. ALEX'S INTERNAL POV (INTERCUT WITH PREVIOUS) FLASHES move us backward along the path we've taken so far, a tour of hell on earth, the blast of infernal winds and the ever-present voice of the Captain, condemning. CAPTAIN'S VOICE Take a look! Strippers writhe at "The Hole." ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- 75. CAPTAIN'S VOICE (CONT'D) That's who you are! The Porsche explodes. CAPTAIN'S VOICE (CONT'D) You sick fuck! Look at it! Alex blasts Dutton. BAM! CAPTAIN'S VOICE (CONT'D) Every loser name anyone ever called you was true! Alex escapes the taser. Mercer drops. CAPTAIN'S VOICE (CONT'D) Are you looking? Answer me! Time SCREECHING to a halt, all the movement converging on a single, quiet image. One we've seen before... Alex in the chair. But his last words are different. ALEX I loved Lauren. I never meant to hurt her. ZAP. Electro-spasm as the switch is thrown. No scar, no meltdown, just violent fibrillations that moderate, finally as we MATCH TO... RESUME - THE CAPTAIN'S OFFICE The Captain shaking Alex, holding something in front of Alex's face. CAPTAIN You see it? Huh? Did you see it? Alex's eye's gone dead, no longer seeing... THE PHOTO - LAUREN AND ALEX IN THE WOODS arms around each other. Familiar, but on second take, it's like the crime scene photos... Lauren's NECK is SLASHED, her body riddled with stab wounds. Alex has a big smile on his face, his arm around her, her head on his shoulder. 100% sociopath. RESUME CAPTAIN (CONT'D) Yeah. I think you fucking saw it. The Captain drops Alex lifeless and bloody to the floor. Only the sound of the Captain panting now, then... The sound of slow clapping. Madden walks into the room from behind perimeter curtains. CLAP CLAP CLAP. ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- 76. MADDEN You were right. Picture's worth a thousand words. Madden kicks Alex lightly, nudging him. No life signes. The Captain rips the picture in two. Tosses it in the trash. CAPTAIN Just don't believe everything you see. MADDEN Doubt is a motherfucker. CAPTAIN Give me a hand with this sack of shit. INT. MYSTERY ROOM - NIGHT NEW ANGLE - THROUGH A WINDOW DARKLY Madden and the Captain grab Alex, one at each end. SECRETARY He's cute. Was cute. REVEAL, this is the Secretary's POV through the window. She's bent over someone's toes, painting them BLUE. WIDE. The Mystery Room revealed. Taxidermy specimens line the wall and the table. Erin stands in PROFILE in the middle of the room, strangely silent, hands tied overhead by a rope that runs to the ceiling. The Secretary brushing polish on Erin's toes. SECRETARY (CONT'D) But the face, well, makeup can work for you or against you. Right? The Secretary applies a last flourish of polish, then stands, kisses Erin gently. SECRETARY (CONT'D) All done. Very nice. (then) You're a good listener. The Secretary moves off REVEALING... ERIN'S FACE MOUTH SEWN shut in a rough zigzag stitch, like the scar. Her eyes dart as... THE DOOR opens. The Captain and Madden carry Alex in. Madden sweeps the TAXIDERMY SPECIMENS back with his hand, clearing a space for Alex on the table. Among them... ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- 77. THE CROW on its Corvus Brachyrhynchos stand takes a small hop backward, this sign of life unnoticed as... RESUME WHUMP. Alex heaved onto the table. MADDEN So was he dead? Or alive? The Secretary puts her ear to Alex's lifeless lips. CAPTAIN I've seen birds stuffed and mounted so lifelike you'd swear you saw them breathing. This reminds him... he looks at the Crow on the stand. Lifeless, stuffed. As it should be. CAPTAIN (CONT'D) Maybe we had a case of that here. (to Secretary) Get me my kit. MADDEN You two are majorly demented. Anyone ever tell you that? The Secretary steps off to grab thekit, leaving Alex's lifeless open eyes pointing toward Erin, reflected in his eyeballs first before... ANGLE - ERIN looking up at her own hands, bound above her as she eases them apart and... The HEART SHAPED LOCKET slips from between her palms and she closes them again in time to catch the chain, the locket swinging. ON THE TABLE X-CLOSE. The locket reflected in Alex's lifeless open eyes a second before... The Secretary returns, blocking the sightline. Lays out the Kit, nasty looking tools left over from the Inquisition. Then unbuttons Alex's tattered shirt, undressing him for the procedure. Stab wounds everywhere. SECRETARY Fifty three? CAPTAIN In all the excitement I kind of lost count. (then) I think I'll mount him with his head up his ass. A large KNIFE, the Lauren murder weapon, angles in at the base of Alex'sneck where the Secretary's head was. ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- 78. THE CROW - OVERCRANKED moves on the table. Takes flight. THE TRIO turn toward the commotion. CAPTAIN (CONT'D) Grab it! THE LOCKET - OVERCRANKED Snatched in midair by the Crow from Erin's praying hands. FLASH! ALEX/CROW'S INTERNAL POV HIGH ANGLE CROWVISION. Dim memories from the woods. Anamorphic and dark. Two figures--Alex and Erin--kneeling. RESUME - THE LOCKET released from the Crow's beak, passing through the TRIO'S HANDS uncaught, bouncing off Alex onto the table, in front of his open eyes. ALEX/CROW'S INTERNAL POV FLASH. AT GROUND LEVEL. Alex fastens the LOCKET around her neck. The distortion lessening, becoming Alex's POV. ALEX ... it connects you to me... FLASH. ERIN No matter what happens... you're innocent... I promise... FLASH. Alex painting her face. RESUME Alex BLINKS. The Captain reacts--oh shit--starts to bring the knife down, a hurried strike at Alex's chest. WAM! Alex grabs the Captain's arm in his hand, stopping the movement on a dime. ALEX All lies. Everything you ever showed me. MADDEN pulls a gun, points it at Erin. ALEX jumps up, flying INTO the gun as it goes off. CRASH! They tumble THROUGH THE WINDOW into the Captain's office while... THE CAPTAIN cuts down the rope holding Erin. She collapses... ON THE TABLE strewn with blades, secreting one between her hands, in the second before... THE CAPTAIN drags Erin off. The Secretary flails at the Crow with a metal ROD, while... IN THE CAPTAIN'S OFFICE Madden has the gun on Alex now. BAM! No effect. BAM! ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- 79. Madden sweating it now, continuing to shoot with no effect as... THE MYSTERY ROOM The Secretary finally connects with the Crow, batting it against the wall, noticing this coincides with... Alex goes flying against the desk, winged himself. Madden c Onfused, not understanding. SECRETARY (O.S.) It's the bird! Kill it! Madden wheels, points the gun through the busted-out picture window into... The SECRETARY dives for cover as bullets explode around her. The Crow dancing, sprayed with debris. CUT TO: INT. POLICE STATION - ELEVATOR - NIGHT CLOSE. Floor lights sequence above the door, heading for underground parking. "5 - 4 - 3..." The Captain watches the lights. Erin is slumped face first against the side of the elevator opposite him. CAPTAIN You brought him back. Good. He owes you. We'll stick together, you and I. ON ERIN face pressed against the elevator wall, intent. CAPTAIN (CONT'D) Seen but not heard. They ought to make it a law. Erin winces, looks down... THE BLADE emerging from her sleeve as she tries to hold it with her two bound hands. DING. The elevator jerks to a stop. THE CAPTAIN grabs her off the floor and she RAMS the blade into his abdomen with the force of the entire body. Twists it. The elevator doors open. ERIN pulls out the blade, claws her way out the door, the Captain hanging on to her, finally getting free as she swipes at him again, drawing fresh blood. Running now, into... INT. POLICE STATION - PARKING GARAGE - NIGHT Erin stumbles between cars in the dark underground garage, cutting the cord off her hands, leaving it behind as... ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- 80. Behind her, the Captain unsteady on his feet, a wounded animal. He pulls out a GLOCK 9MM and KA-CHUNK. Cycles it. Erin dives between cars, scrambling on hands and knees. Looks around. HER POV - SCANNING a small garage with a few police cruisers by a SERVICE AREA and no people. A barred GATE over the exit. No way out. ERIN winces. Then stifles a cry as she cuts the stitches off her mouth with the knife. Drops the threads on the floor and moves off... CUT TO: INT. POLICE STATION - CAPTAIN'S OFFICE - NIGHT Alex runs past the glass AWARDS CASE, takes a flying leap behind the desk, seeking cover as Madden empties a clip at him. The slide ratchets back. Madden SLAMS another clip in, advances on Alex, hidden behind the shredded desk as... THE SECRETARY clears stuffed birds off the table trying to expose the wounded crow cowering back against the wall. SECRETARY Here pretty bird. Here birdy. WHOP! She grabs it, the Crow flapping desperately as... IN THE CAPTAIN'S OFFICE Madden creeps up on the desk, peers over it. Nothing. Out of nowhere... WAM! Alex rushes Madden, bulldozing him across the room with a pained cry of brute force toward... THE AWARDS CASE CRASH! Glass shatters as Alex hurls Madden, who swivels around in time to get off a last shot BAM! That collapses Alex to the floor. IN THE MYSTERY ROOM The Crow squeezes out of the Secretary's grasp, leaving her holding a couple feathers. AT THE AWARD'S CASE Alex hauls himself off the floor as the Crow joins him. Seeing... MADDEN'S HEAD has taken its place among glass bowls and trophies, half decapitated by the glass shelf it now rests on. Down the shelf from the stuffed bird. ALEX rushes through the blown out window into... Seeing for the first time that Erin is gone, the rope hanging from the ceiling, finding... THE SECRETARY ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- 81. SECRETARY (CONT'D) sitting on the floor, painting her own toenails BLUE, leaning up against the wall. ALEX Where'd they go? Alex eases the Secretary to her feet with a hand around her neck, her back to the wall. She looks UP, smiling at... WALSH - RIGHT ARM MISSING hangs high overhead from some kind of hook. His arm has been crudely removed. Underneath him, on the table, a BOX of 2" surgical stainless steel rods sits by a pool of blood. ALEX yells, reeling, as... The door flies open. A half dozen cops in, all targeting Alex as... THE SECRETARY plunges the Lauren KNIFE in Alex's back. He spins violently THROWING her HARD against the wall. WAM! Surprise!-she sticks. REVEAL, she's impaled on ANTELOPE ANTLERS, hanging off the wall. Her head drops, looking down as a stream of blood flows down her legs, drips off her toes... SECRETARY (dying words) My nails. BAM BAM BAM. The new arrivals open fire. Alex reaches over his shoulder, yanks out the knife with an odd slurping sound as... CUT TO: INT. POLICE STATION - PARKING GARAGE The sound of GUNFIRE filters down from above as the Captain hunts his hidden prey. He stops, studies... ERIN'S POV - LOW ANGLE LOOKING UNDER A CAR The Captain's feet, joined by his hand as he picks up the thread she left on the ground. INCLUDE ERIN SECRETARY reproving herself as she turns toward camera. She looks back under the car, but... The Captain's feet have moved off. Where? She listens, hears nothing. Slips off... NEW ANGLE - ERIN takes refuge in the service area, crouching behind stacks of TIRES. Knife at the ready. ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- 82. The Captain's FOOTSTEPS audible. HER OBSTRUCTED POV between stacks of tires, the Captain, Glock at ready, PASSES BY, moving out of sight. Footsteps RECEDING. Then silent. ERIN Listening, neurons firing. Cranes her neck to see. Nothing. WIDER the Captain appears BEHIND ERIN, over the stacks of tires. She's oblivious, then... Erin wheels, slashes across his wrist. The Glock falls, Erin grabs it, levels it at the Captain. Her finger tense on the trigger. CAPTAIN (re: gun) I know you too well. You won't do it. ERIN You don't know me at all. BAM! She pulls the trigger, simultaneously wrenching the gun, aiming just enough off that... THE CAPTAIN yells in pain, rushes his hand to his ear, a bloody mess. He starts advancing again toward her and Erin pulls... THE TRIGGER again, again, again.

handful

How many times the word 'handful' appears in the text?

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Search IMSDb Alphabetical # A B C D E F G H I J K L M N O P Q R S T U V W X Y Z Genre Action Adventure Animation Comedy Crime Drama Family Fantasy Film-Noir Horror Musical Mystery Romance Sci-Fi Short Thriller War Western Sponsor TV Transcripts Futurama Seinfeld South Park Stargate SG-1 Lost The 4400 International French scripts Movie Software Rip from DVD Rip Blu-Ray Latest Comments Star Wars: Revenge of the Sith10/10 Star Wars: The Force Awakens10/10 Batman Begins9/10 Collateral10/10 Jackie Brown8/10 Movie Chat Message Yell ! ALL SCRIPTS ALL THE PRESIDENT'S MEN - by William Goldman if (window!= top) top.location.href=location.href // --> "ALL THE PRESIDENT'S MEN" by William Goldman Based on the novel "All The President's Men" by Carl Bernstein and Bob Woodward Pre-rehearsal version March, 1975 Start with as few credits as possible. When they're over-- FADE IN ON: A TINY BLACK PIECE OF TAPE. We see it in the center of the large, dimly lit screen. As the tape is pressed around a door-- BEGIN THE BREAK-IN SEQUENCE. It's a major piece of action, running maybe five minutes and it's all as detailed and accurate as we can make it, with as many "if only's" included as possible. ("If only" the tape had been attached up and down instead of around the door, Wills wouldn't have spotted it and alerted the police; "if only" the first police car called had gone to investigate, Baldwin, watching from the Howard Johnson Motor Inn, would have seen their uniforms and radioed Hunt and Liddy in time for them to have gotten to the five burglars and then safely away.) The break-in ends when Leeper arrests the five men. He thought he only had one guy, so when ten hands were raised he was surprised. The hands are all encased in Playtex rubber surgical gloves. HOLD on the hands a moment; then-- GO TO: A DARK APARTMENT. The phone rings. WOODWARD fumbles for the receiver, turns on the bed light. He listens a moment. WOODWARD No, no trouble, Harry, be right down. (he hangs up) Son of a bitch. He lies back. The apartment is one room, a small terrace beyond. Not much of a place. WOODWARD lies still, staring at the ceiling. He blinks, blinks again. HOLD... CUT TO: THE ENORMOUS FIFTH FLOOR OF THE WASHINGTON POST. It looks, early of a Saturday morning, pretty deserted. Those reporters that are around are young, bright, and presently involved in nothing more taxing than drinking coffee and thumbing through the papers. HARRY ROSENFELD surveys the scene from his office doorway as WOODWARD approaches, hangs his coat at his desk, not far from where ROSENFELD is standing. ROSENFELD Where's that cheery face we've come to know and love? WOODWARD You call me in on my day off because some idiots have broken into local Democratic Headquarters--tell me, Harry, why should I be smiling? ROSENFELD As usual, that keen mind of yours has pegged the situation perfectly. (chomps on some Maalox tablets) Except (a) it wasn't local Democratic Headquarters, it was National Democratic Headquarters-- (WOODWARD is surprised-- he hadn't known) --and (b) these weren't just any idiots, these were special idiots, seeing as when they were arrested at 2:30 this morning, they were all wearing business suits and Playtex gloves and were carrying-- (consults a piece of paper) --a walkie-talkie, forty rolls of film, cameras, lock picks, pen-sized tear gas guns, plus various bugging devices. (puts paper down) Not to mention over two thousand dollars, mostly in sequenced hundred dollar bills. WOODWARD Preliminary hearing at Superior Courthouse? ROSENFELD (nods) Two o'clock, work the phones 'til you go. CUT TO: THE CRIMINAL COURTS BUILDING. WOODWARD hurries along, goes inside as we CUT TO: A CORRIDOR INSIDE. WOODWARD comes down it, looks around, sees a door marked "Counsel's Offices" and heads toward it. Now-- CUT TO: A CLERK AT A DESK as WOODWARD comes up. Behind them, two lawyers are clearly angry about something, talking and gesticulating to each other. WOODWARD (to the COUNSEL'S CLERK) Could you give me the names of the lawyers for the men arrested in the Watergate. CLERK These two were appointed-- (indicates the angry men) --only now it turns out the burglars got their own counsel. (he starts to laugh) FIRST ANGRY LAWYER (to CLERK) When you gonna stop thinking it's so funny. SECOND ANGRY LAWYER (To CLERK) We wouldda done a terrific job protecting those guys. (neither lawyer, by the way, is Clarence Darrow) FIRST ANGRY LAWYER You think we're not as good as some hotshot fancy lawyer?-- CUT TO: THE COURTROOM and business is booming. Muggers, pimp, hookers, their families and friends. In the scene that follows, a constant counterpoint is what's going on up at the front as an endless succession of petty criminals caught the previous night, the aforementioned muggers, pimps, and hookers, are shuttled in, given a quick appearance before a JUDGE who sets bond, and then shuttled out. In the audience, one man stands out--DOUGLAS CADDY. He is extremely well-dressed and obviously successful. Beside him sits another smaller man, who is unshaven and squints. WOODWARD moves in, sits alongside CADDY. WOODWARD Mr. Caddy? My name's Bob Woodward, I'm from the Post and I wanted to ask about how you happened to come on this case-- CADDY --I'm not here. WOODWARD (nods) OK. He takes out a small notebook, writes, muttering aloud as he does. WOODWARD Douglas Caddy, the attorney of record, when questioned about his presence in the courtroom, denied he was in the courtroom, "I'm not here," Mr. Caddy said. CADDY (impatiently) Clearly, I am here, but only as an individual, I'm not the attorney of record. (indicating unshaven man) Mr. Rafferty has that position. Whatever you want, you'll have to get from him, I have nothing more to say. And as he gets up, walks off-- CUT TO: THE WATER FOUNTAIN IN THE CORRIDOR. There is a small line. CADDY waits at the end of it. WOODWARD (moving in behind him) Mr. Rafferty was very helpful. Four Cuban-Americans and this other man, James McCord. CADDY Look, I told you inside-- WOODWARD --you have nothing more to say, I understand that. CADDY turns away; WOODWARD goes right on. WOODWARD What I don't understand is how you got here. CADDY I assure you, there's nothing mysterious involved. WOODWARD Probably you're right, but a little while ago, I was talking to a couple of lawyers who'd been assigned to represent the burglars. CADDY So? WOODWARD Well, they never would have been assigned if anyone had known the burglars had arranged for their own counsel. And that could only mean the burglars didn't arrange for their own counsel--they never even made a phone call. (looks at CADDY) So if they didn't ask for you to be here, how did you know to come? Without a word, CADDY turns, leaves the line without getting a drink. Silently, WOODWARD watches. Now-- CUT TO: CADDY seated as before beside RAFFERTY. WOODWARD's voice come from behind him, and as CADDY turns, WOODWARD is seated one row back. WOODWARD Did you know to come because one of the other men involved in the break- in called you? CADDY (turning) There is no reason to assume other people were involved. WOODWARD Your clients were arrested with a walkie-talkie; they didn't need that to talk among themselves. CADDY looks at WOODWARD, turns back. CADDY (turning back) They are not my clients. WOODWARD You're a lawyer and you're here-- CADDY --I met one of the defendants, Mr. Barker, at a social occasion once-- (stops himself) --I have nothing more to say. WOODWARD (leaning forward as CADDY turns away again) A Miami social occasion? (explaining) Mr. Rafferty told me the Cubans were from Miami. CADDY (sighing) Barker's wife called me at three this morning; her husband apparently had told her to call if he hadn't called her by then. WOODWARD It was really nice of you to come, since you'd only met him once. CADDY Are you implying you don't believe me? WOODWARD I have nothing more to say. CADDY You don't mind getting on people's nerves, do you? WOODWARD considers this a moment. Then-- WOODWARD Nope. And on that word-- CUT TO: THE COURTROOM as without warning, it quiets. There is suddenly a tremendous air of expectancy, you can feel it. Now we see why as five men in dark business suits are led in; they've been stripped of belts, ties, and shoelaces. McCord is taller than the others. They stand, facing the JUDGE, backs to the audience. WOODWARD sits watching as the proceedings start, but it's hard to hear. He concentrates as the JUDGE starts speaking. JUDGE Will you please state your professions. The five men do not move or reply. Then, after a long pause, Barker says-- BARKER Anti-Communists. JUDGE Anti-Communists? (perplexed) That, sir, is not your average occupation. WOODWARD starts moving forward now, down an aisle, moving past kids and whores and all the rest, trying to hear what the hell's going on. At the front of the spectator's section is a fence-like wooden barricade about three feet high. As he approaches it-- The JUDGE indicates the bald burglar. JUDGE Your name, please. MCCORD James McCord. JUDGE Will you step forward, sir. (MCCORD obeys) WOODWARD at the bench is leaning forward, trying to hear but it's hard. JUDGE And what is your occupation, Mr. McCord? MCCORD (softly) Security consultant. JUDGE Where? MCCORD (softer) Government. Recently retired. JUDGE Where in government? MCCORD (we can't really make this out) ...Central... Intelligence... Agency... JUDGE (he can't either) Where? MCCORD (clearing his throat) The C.I.A. And on these words, ZOOM TO: CLOSE UP--WOODWARD leaning over the fence practically falling over it in a desperate straining effort to catch what's going on. WOODWARD (stunned) Holy shit. Now from the courtroom-- CUT TO: THOUSANDS AND THOUSANDS OF WASHINGTON POSTS. We are at the end of the press run, the papers are all assembled and being cabled and sent off by machine to various places. As the papers continue to roll past-- A UNION TYPE EMPLOYEE grabs a paper, looks at the front page. The Watergate story, headlined whatever it was headlined, is visible. The byline was by Alfred E. Lewis. The union type Post employee glances at the article-- UNION POST EMPLOYEE (reading half-aloud) "Five men, one of whom said he is a former employee..." (stops reading, gives a shrug) Schmucks. And he turns happily to the sports section-- CUT TO: A CLOSE UP OF HUNDRED DOLLAR BILLS. It's new money and looks as if it's been recently ironed. Someone is going through the cash, making a quick count. During this-- FIRST VOICE (V.O.) Hurry it, huh, Bachinski? BACHINSKI You said I could look at it-- PULL BACK TO REVEAL We're in a room in a police station and two men are present. One, a COP, is nervous as hell and constantly aware of the door. The other, BACHINSKI, is taking hurried notes in a reporter's type notebook as he examines the evidence. COP --I said look, not memorize-- BACHINSKI --almost done, give it a rest, all right... (and he looks at an address book, he stops) CUT TO: THE ADDRESS BOOK. Beside the name "Howard E. Hunt" is the notation "W.House." Now, BACHINSKI hurriedly opens the other book to the letter "H" and there is the same name, "Howard E. Hunt" and beside it, the letters, "W.H." COP (V.O.) What'd you find? BACHINSKI (V.O.) Beats me. These notebooks belonged to Cuban guys? COP (V.O.) S'right. BACHINSKI (V.O.) It's gotta mean either White House or whore house, one or the other. We HOLD on the HUNT name, and the address notations. Then-- CUT TO: WOODWARD'S APARTMENT - NIGHT. The phone rings, waking him. He fumbles for the phone and the light, finally gets them both. WOODWARD Bachinski? (reaches for a notebook) What?--hold it-- (gets it open, starts to write) --OK, go on, go on... CUT TO: A BOX OF MAALOX TABLETS. ROSENFELD is opening them, we're in his office, WOODWARD sits across the desk, holding the notebook we saw him writing in. ROSENFELD ...go on, go on... WOODWARD That's everything Bachinski had, I think it's worth following up. ROSENFELD Don't know; who the hell's Howard Hunt? (crunches tablets) It's probably nothing but check it out. Just go easy, it could be crazy Cubans. HOWARD SIMONS sticks his head in the office. SIMONS Anything? ROSENFELD Woodward's onto a new wrinkle with the break-in thing--absolute page one stuff-- SIMONS --in other words, you got nothing, you're thumbsucking. ROSENFELD (shrugs) Could develop. SIMONS Let me see what you get, but don't jump--The New York Times thinks it's crazy Cubans. He moves on. ROSENFELD turns quickly to WOODWARD. ROSENFELD OK, get on this W.House guy and do a better job then you did on McCord. WOODWARD I did all right on McCord. ROSENFELD Then how come the Associated Press were the ones found out that Mr. McCord is security coordinator for the Committee to Re-elect the President, otherwise known as CREEP? WOODWARD (getting it straight) The head of security for the reelection of a Republican President got caught bugging the national offices of the Democrats? What the hell does that mean? ROSENFELD (hasn't the foggiest) Mr. John Mitchell, the head of CREEP, says it means nothing. (reads) "...This man and the other people involved were not operating on either our behalf or with our consent. These is no place in our campaign or in the electoral process for this type of activity, and we will not forget it or condone it." WOODWARD (getting up) You can't believe that. ROSENFELD As a rough rule of thumb, as far as I can throw Bronco Nagurski, that's how much I trust John Mitchell... Now-- CUT TO: A MOON-FACED MAN RINGING A TRIANGLE. CUT TO: THE NEWSROOM as the triangle sound echoes. HOWARD SIMONS leaves large Managing Editor's office, walks past another office, knocks twice on the glass wall. Inside the Executive Editor's office, BEN BRADLEE sits. As SIMONS knocks, he turns, nods. He appears, for the moment, deep in thought. HARRY ROSENFELD on the opposite end of the room hurries out of his office, following a bunch of editors, all of them heading across the huge room. As he passes WOODWARD's desk ROSENFELD pauses. ROSENFELD What'd you get on W.House? WOODWARD (massaging his neck) Lotsa hints-- ROSENFELD (not happy) I can't sell hints to Simons-- (stops, looks at piece of yellow paper) --you called everyone you know? (WOODWARD makes a nod) Call someone you don't know. WOODWARD continues to rub his neck as ROSENFELD hurries off, all the editors still moving toward the place where the moon- faced man intermittently rings the triangle. WOODWARD picks up the sheet of yellow paper from his desk. Lined, legal-sized, it is crammed with names and numbers and addresses. They are in no neat order; looking at them it's almost like following a path; chicken tracks in ink. WOODWARD mutters "to hell with it" and reaches for a thick book, flips it open. NOW WE SEE THE BOOK: It's the Washington Phone Directory and we're in the W's. As WOODWARD's finger stops, we can see he's looking at the White HOuse entry number. There it is, just like your name and mine. Listed. Now WOODWARD starts to dial, visibly nervous, a fact he tries very hard to keep out of his voice tone. WHITE HOUSE OPERATOR (V.O.) White House. WOODWARD (casually) Howard Hunt, please. Throughout the following call, we stay on WOODWARD's face, hear the other voices. WHITE HOUSE OPERATOR (V.O.) Mr. Hunt does not answer. WOODWARD is delighted he's even there. WOODWARD Thanks, anyway-- And he's about to hang up, when-- WHITE HOUSE OPERATOR (V.O.) I'll bet he's in Mr. Colson's office. Let me connect you. SECRETARY (V.O.) Charles Colson's wire. WOODWARD (a little more excited) Howard Hunt, please. SECRETARY (V.O.) Mr. Hunt isn't here just now. WOODWARD Thanks, anyway. And he's about to hang up again when-- SECRETARY (V.O.) Have you tried Mullen and Company Public Relations? He works at Mullen and Company Public Relations as a writer. The number is 555-1313. I'm sorry I couldn't be more helpful. WOODWARD Listen, forget it. He hangs up, sits there. His hands are a little twitchy... HOLD. Now-- CUT TO: ROSENFELD hurrying (he always hurries) toward his office. WOODWARD, looking for something in his desk throughout this scene, speaks to him. WOODWARD Who's Charles Colson? ROSENFELD (stops dead) I would liken your query to being in Russia half a century ago and asking someone, "I understand who Lenin is and Trotsky I got too, but who's this yokel Stalin?" WOODWARD Who's Colson, Harry? ROSENFELD The most powerful man in America is President Nixon, probably you've heard his name. WOODWARD, unfazed by anything, continues to open drawers, close them, as ROSENFELD rolls on. ROSENFELD The second most powerful man is Robert Haldeman. Just below him are a trio: Mr. Erlichman is Haldeman's friend, and they protect the President from everybody which is why they are referred to as either The German Shepherds or the Berlin Wall. Mr. Mitchell we've already discussed. Mr. Colson is the President's special counsel. WOODWARD (rising) Thanks, Harry. (looks at ROSENFELD) Know anything about Colson? ROSENFELD Just that on his office wall there's a cartoon with a caption reading, "When you've got them by the balls, their hearts and minds will follow." WOODWARD nods, heads back toward the files as we CUT TO: WOODWARD AT HIS DESK dialing the phone. He's got the Colson file spread out now, and we see pictures of the man and articles the Post had done on him. But basically what we see is WOODWARD plugging away on the goddamn phone and you'd think his finger would fall off from all the dialing and you know his voice is tiring as this montage goes on, you can hear it grow raspy. But a lot of what a reporter does he does on the phone, and that's what we're compressing here. The dialing never stops, the voices are continuous. WOODWARD Hello, I'm Bob Woodward of the Washing Post and... (beat) Mullen and Company Public Relations? Could you tell me when you expect Mr. Hunt? (surprised) He is? HUNT (V.O.) Howard Hunt here. WOODWARD Hi, I'm Bob Woodward of the Post and-- HUNT (V.O.) (impatient) --yes, yes, what is it? WOODWARD I was just kind of wondering why your name and phone number were in the address books of two of the men arrested at Watergate? HUNT (V.O.) (blind panic) Good God! And he bangs the phone down sharply-- --more dialing SOUNDS. Now snatches of conversation-- WOODWARD I'm sorry to bother you, Mr. Bennett, but we're doing some investigating of one of your employees, Howard Hunt. BENNETT (V.O.) Well, if you've been doing some investigating then obviously it's no secret to you that Howard was with the C.I.A. WOODWARD (he hadn't known) No secret at all. More dialing. Then-- WOODWARD (tired, voice deeper) Hello, C.I.A. This is R.W. Woodward, of the Washington Post--get me Personnel-- Dialing again. WOODWARD's voice is showing genuine fatigue. WOODWARD Hi, I'm Bob Woodward of the Washington Post--and--what's that?--you've never heard of me?--I can't help that--you don't believe I'm with the Post?-- what do you want me to do, Madam, shout "extra--extra"? There is the SOUND of the phone being slammed down in his ear. Hard. Now-- CUT TO: ROSENFELD AND SIMONS approaching WOODWARD who is working at his desk. He has put in a lot of hours on this and looks it. ROSENFELD Whaddya got, whaddya got? WOODWARD Hunt is Colson's man-- (to SIMONS, explaining) --that's Charles Colson, Nixon's special counsel-- (SIMONS almost says something, decides against it) --they both went to Brown University-- (consulting his notes) --Hunt worked for the C.I.A. till '70, and this is on deep background, the FBI thinks he's involved with the break-in. SIMONS What else have you got? WOODWARD According to White House personnel, Hunt definitely works there as a consultant for Colson. But when I called the White House Press office, they said he hadn't worked there for three months. Then the P.R. guy said the weirdest thing to me. (reading) "I am convinced that neither Mr. Colson nor anyone else at the White House had any knowledge of, or participation in, this deplorable incident at the Democratic National Committee." He looks up at them. SIMONS Isn't that what you'd expect them to say? WOODWARD Absolutely. ROSENFELD So? WOODWARD (he's got something and he knows it) I never asked them about Watergate. I only said what were Hunt's duties at the White House. They volunteered that he was innocent when nobody asked was he guilty. ROSENFELD (to SIMONS) I think we got a White House consultant linked to the bugging. SIMONS (nods) Just be careful how you write it. CUT TO: WOODWARD TYPING LIKE MAD, makes a mistake, corrects it, types on muttering to himself, and-- CUT TO: ROSENFELD IN HIS OFFICE munching a handful of Maalox tablets and-- CUT TO: WOODWARD taking a sheet from his typewriter, hurrying off and-- CUT TO: ROSENFELD taking the sheet from WOODWARD-- WOODWARD Here's the first take-- ROSENFELD nods, shows him out and-- CUT TO: WOODWARD BACK AT HIS MACHINE typing faster then before, makes another mistake, starts to correct it, glances around and-- CUT TO: ROSENFELD IN HIS OFFICE gesturing to somebody but not WOODWARD and-- CUT TO: WOODWARD watching as BERNSTEIN appears in view from behind the wide pillar by WOODWARD's desk, heads toward ROSENFELD's office. WOODWARD shrugs, goes back to his typing, makes a typo immediately, glances over toward ROSENFELD's office, freezes as we-- CUT TO: ROSENFELD handing some papers to BERNSTEIN. They look, from this distance, suspiciously like WOODWARD's story. CUT TO: BERNSTEIN hurrying out of ROSENFELD's office, and-- CUT TO: WOODWARD watching BERNSTEIN until he disappears out of sight behind the pillar. WOODWARD hesitates, finally goes back to his typing, makes another mistake, fixes it, makes still another, his temper is shortly to make itself known-- CUT TO: ROSENFELD as WOODWARD hands him another sheet of paper. WOODWARD This is all of it, Harry. ROSENFELD NODS, takes it, immediately starts to read as we-- CUT TO: WOODWARD AT HIS DESK watching as ROSENFELD gestures again. There is a pause. Then BERNSTEIN appears from behind the pillar and-- CUT TO: ROSENFELD handing BERNSTEIN another sheet of paper. BERSTEIN nods, takes it, walks back toward his desk, disappears behind the pillar again. WOODWARD is starting to steam. Now-- CUT TO: BERNSTEIN AT HIS DESK typing magnificently, his hands rising and falling like Rubinstein's. Behind him is the pillar and for a moment there is nothing--then, very slowly, a figure peers out from behind the pillar--it is WOODWARD. He watches. BERNSTEIN continues to type, then after a moment, rests, thinks, shifts around in his chair and as his glance starts toward the pillar-- CUT TO: THE PILLAR. WOODWARD is gone. CUT TO: BERNSTEIN typing madly away. THE PILLAR. WOODWARD is visible again, eyes very bright... now-- CUT TO: BERNSTEIN finishing typing, his hands moving majestically. WOODWARD comes up behind him, stands looking a second. Then-- WOODWARD We have to talk. BERNSTEIN nods, grabs the papers both that he's been typing and that he's been copying from. And as he rises-- PAN TO: WOODWARD AND BERNSTEIN walking silently out of the newsroom then turning left down a darker corridor, passing bulletin boards and wall lockers and it's all nice and quiet as they amble on, nodding to the few people they pass on their way and after a while they turn right and enter the coffee lounge which is empty; the walls are lined with Norman Rockwell reproductions and various kinds of vending machines are visible, selling coffee or milk or fruit or sandwiches and there are some plastic tables and chairs and the minute they are alone, the silence ends. WOODWARD What the hell were you doing rewriting my story-- BERNSTEIN --I sure couldn't hurt it, could I?-- WOODWARD --it was fine the way it was-- BERNSTEIN --it was bullshit the way it was-- WOODWARD --I have to stand here and listen to the staff correspondent from Virginia?-- BERNSTEIN (a sore subject) --what have you been here, nine months?--I been in this business since I was sixteen-- WOODWARD --and you've had some fucking meteoric rise, that's for sure--by the time you turn forty you might be the head of the Montana bureau-- BERNSTEIN --you only got the job because both you and Bradlee went to Yale-- WOODWARD --Bradlee went to Harvard-- BERNSTEIN --they're all the same, all those Ivy League places--they teach you about striped ties and suddenly you're smart-- WOODWARD --I'm smart enough to know my story was solid-- BERNSTEIN --mine's better-- WOODWARD --no way-- BERNSTEIN (handing them over) --read 'em both and you'll see-- And as WOODWARD glances at the two stories-- CUT TO: BERNSTEIN watching. Now-- CUT TO: WOODWARD. He glances from one story to the other. Then, disconsolately-- WOODWARD ...crap... And he sinks down in a chair. BERNSTEIN Is mine better? WOODWARD nods. WOODWARD (handing the stories back) What is it about my writing that's so rotten? BERNSTEIN (as he exits) Mainly it has to do with your choice of words. And as he goes, leaving WOODWARD just sitting there-- CUT TO: BERSTEIN, re-entering the newsroom, returning to his desk. He starts to insert some papers into his typewriter, hesitates, lights a cigarette. He inhales, as, behind him, WOODWARD briefly is visible going to his desk behind the pillar. Finally BERNSTEIN inserts the paper, starts to type as WOODWARD (V.O.) (from behind the pillar) Carl? BERNSTEIN (turns) Yeah? WOODWARD (pushing his chair briefly into view) Fuck you, Carl. And as he rolls forward again, out of sight-- CUT TO: RICHARD NIXON ON THE TUBE. (It's the June 22 Press Conference.) He talks on about something, it doesn't matter exactly what here, the point is, it should include that strange smile of his that kept appearing when the man should not have been smiling. Hints of pressure maybe, that's all, and once it's established-- PULL BACK TO REVEAL: WOODWARD sitting alone, gloomily staring at the set. We're in the Post Cafeteria, it's the next morning, and the place is pretty much empty. He sips the coffee, it tastes rotten. BERNSTEIN moves up behind him, carrying a cup of coffee of his own. He stands by WOODWARD briefly. BERNSTEIN You heard? (WOODWARD glances up) They put us both on the break-in thing. Simons liked the way we worked together. (WOODWARD nods, BERNSTEIN sits down) Listen, I'm sorry I said your story was bullshit. WOODWARD It's OK; I'm sorry I called you a failure. BERNSTEIN Forget it, the main thing-- (stops) --did you call me a failure? WOODWARD I was sure trying. CUT TO: WOODWARD, BERNSTEIN, AND NIXON. The way it's shot, it's almost as if they're watching each other; NIXON staring out from the TV set, answering questions. WOODWARD and BERNSTEIN sip coffee. We don't know yet--or better, they don't know it yet, but these are our adversaries. CUT TO: WOODWARD AND BERNSTEIN, without NIXON now. They sit at the table. Occasionally, NIXON is audible in the background. WOODWARD All right, what do we know? BERNSTEIN Let me lay a little theory on you-- WOODWARD (cutting him off) --I'm not interested in theory. What do we know? For example, Hunt's disappeared. BERNSTEIN Well, Barker tried to get blueprints of the Miami Convention Center and the air-conditioning system. WOODWARD And McCord was carrying an application for college press credentials for the Democratic convention. (to BERNSTEIN) The Times has got to be full of it-- it can't be crazy Cubans. BERNSTEIN What, though? (points to Nixon) It can't be the Republicans--he'd never allow something as stupid as this, not when he's gonna slaughter McGovern anyway. WOODWARD Right. Nixon didn't get where he got by being dumb-- (stops abruptly) --listen, that was a Watergate question-- CUT TO: NIXON ON THE TUBE. Serious now. NIXON The White House has had no involvement whatever in this particular incident. CUT TO: WOODWARD AND BERNSTEIN staring at the set thinking... CUT TO: WOODWARD AND BERNSTEIN walking toward BERSTEIN'S desk. WOODWARD Hey? BERNSTEIN Hmm. WOODWARD What do you think he meant, this particular incident? Were there others? How would we find out? You know anyone important? BERNSTEIN (sits, shakes his head) I lived here all my life, I got a million contacts, but they're all bus boys and bellhops. The reporter KEN RINGLE at the next desk watches them a moment. Then-- RINGLE What do you need? BERNSTEIN Someone inside the White House would be nice. RINGLE (writes down phone number) Call her. She worked for Colson, if that's any help. As BERNSTEIN grabs for the phone-- CUT TO: A SECRETARIAL POOL IN A LARGE OFFICE. BERNSTEIN is talking off to one side with an attractive girl. GIRL Kenny's crazy, I never worked for Colson, I worked for an assistant. Colson was big on secrets anyway. Even if I had worked for him, I wouldn't have known anything. BERNSTEIN Nothing at all you can remember? SECRETARY (headshake) Sorry. (pause) Now if it was Hunt you were interested in-- BERNSTEIN --Howard Hunt? SECRETARY Sure. Him I liked, he was a very nice person. Secretive too, traveled all over, but a decent man. BERNSTEIN Any idea what he did? SECRETARY Oh, the scuttlebutt for awhile was he was investigating Kennedy-- BERNSTEIN --Teddy Kennedy? SECRETARY Sure. I remember seeing a book about Chappaquiddick on his desk and he was always getting material out of the White House Library and the Library of Congress and-- And as

say

How many times the word 'say' appears in the text?

All the President's Men Script at IMSDb. var _gaq = _gaq || []; _gaq.push(['_setAccount', 'UA-3785444-3']); _gaq.push(['_trackPageview']); (function() { var ga = document.createElement('script'); ga.type = 'text/javascript'; ga.async = true; ga.src = ('https:' == document.location.protocol ? 'https://ssl' : 'http://www') + '.google-analytics.com/ga.js'; var s = document.getElementsByTagName('script')[0]; s.parentNode.insertBefore(ga, s); })(); The Internet Movie Script Database (IMSDb) The web's largest movie script resource! Search IMSDb Alphabetical # A B C D E F G H I J K L M N O P Q R S T U V W X Y Z Genre Action Adventure Animation Comedy Crime Drama Family Fantasy Film-Noir Horror Musical Mystery Romance Sci-Fi Short Thriller War Western Sponsor TV Transcripts Futurama Seinfeld South Park Stargate SG-1 Lost The 4400 International French scripts Movie Software Rip from DVD Rip Blu-Ray Latest Comments Star Wars: Revenge of the Sith10/10 Star Wars: The Force Awakens10/10 Batman Begins9/10 Collateral10/10 Jackie Brown8/10 Movie Chat Message Yell ! ALL SCRIPTS ALL THE PRESIDENT'S MEN - by William Goldman if (window!= top) top.location.href=location.href // --> "ALL THE PRESIDENT'S MEN" by William Goldman Based on the novel "All The President's Men" by Carl Bernstein and Bob Woodward Pre-rehearsal version March, 1975 Start with as few credits as possible. When they're over-- FADE IN ON: A TINY BLACK PIECE OF TAPE. We see it in the center of the large, dimly lit screen. As the tape is pressed around a door-- BEGIN THE BREAK-IN SEQUENCE. It's a major piece of action, running maybe five minutes and it's all as detailed and accurate as we can make it, with as many "if only's" included as possible. ("If only" the tape had been attached up and down instead of around the door, Wills wouldn't have spotted it and alerted the police; "if only" the first police car called had gone to investigate, Baldwin, watching from the Howard Johnson Motor Inn, would have seen their uniforms and radioed Hunt and Liddy in time for them to have gotten to the five burglars and then safely away.) The break-in ends when Leeper arrests the five men. He thought he only had one guy, so when ten hands were raised he was surprised. The hands are all encased in Playtex rubber surgical gloves. HOLD on the hands a moment; then-- GO TO: A DARK APARTMENT. The phone rings. WOODWARD fumbles for the receiver, turns on the bed light. He listens a moment. WOODWARD No, no trouble, Harry, be right down. (he hangs up) Son of a bitch. He lies back. The apartment is one room, a small terrace beyond. Not much of a place. WOODWARD lies still, staring at the ceiling. He blinks, blinks again. HOLD... CUT TO: THE ENORMOUS FIFTH FLOOR OF THE WASHINGTON POST. It looks, early of a Saturday morning, pretty deserted. Those reporters that are around are young, bright, and presently involved in nothing more taxing than drinking coffee and thumbing through the papers. HARRY ROSENFELD surveys the scene from his office doorway as WOODWARD approaches, hangs his coat at his desk, not far from where ROSENFELD is standing. ROSENFELD Where's that cheery face we've come to know and love? WOODWARD You call me in on my day off because some idiots have broken into local Democratic Headquarters--tell me, Harry, why should I be smiling? ROSENFELD As usual, that keen mind of yours has pegged the situation perfectly. (chomps on some Maalox tablets) Except (a) it wasn't local Democratic Headquarters, it was National Democratic Headquarters-- (WOODWARD is surprised-- he hadn't known) --and (b) these weren't just any idiots, these were special idiots, seeing as when they were arrested at 2:30 this morning, they were all wearing business suits and Playtex gloves and were carrying-- (consults a piece of paper) --a walkie-talkie, forty rolls of film, cameras, lock picks, pen-sized tear gas guns, plus various bugging devices. (puts paper down) Not to mention over two thousand dollars, mostly in sequenced hundred dollar bills. WOODWARD Preliminary hearing at Superior Courthouse? ROSENFELD (nods) Two o'clock, work the phones 'til you go. CUT TO: THE CRIMINAL COURTS BUILDING. WOODWARD hurries along, goes inside as we CUT TO: A CORRIDOR INSIDE. WOODWARD comes down it, looks around, sees a door marked "Counsel's Offices" and heads toward it. Now-- CUT TO: A CLERK AT A DESK as WOODWARD comes up. Behind them, two lawyers are clearly angry about something, talking and gesticulating to each other. WOODWARD (to the COUNSEL'S CLERK) Could you give me the names of the lawyers for the men arrested in the Watergate. CLERK These two were appointed-- (indicates the angry men) --only now it turns out the burglars got their own counsel. (he starts to laugh) FIRST ANGRY LAWYER (to CLERK) When you gonna stop thinking it's so funny. SECOND ANGRY LAWYER (To CLERK) We wouldda done a terrific job protecting those guys. (neither lawyer, by the way, is Clarence Darrow) FIRST ANGRY LAWYER You think we're not as good as some hotshot fancy lawyer?-- CUT TO: THE COURTROOM and business is booming. Muggers, pimp, hookers, their families and friends. In the scene that follows, a constant counterpoint is what's going on up at the front as an endless succession of petty criminals caught the previous night, the aforementioned muggers, pimps, and hookers, are shuttled in, given a quick appearance before a JUDGE who sets bond, and then shuttled out. In the audience, one man stands out--DOUGLAS CADDY. He is extremely well-dressed and obviously successful. Beside him sits another smaller man, who is unshaven and squints. WOODWARD moves in, sits alongside CADDY. WOODWARD Mr. Caddy? My name's Bob Woodward, I'm from the Post and I wanted to ask about how you happened to come on this case-- CADDY --I'm not here. WOODWARD (nods) OK. He takes out a small notebook, writes, muttering aloud as he does. WOODWARD Douglas Caddy, the attorney of record, when questioned about his presence in the courtroom, denied he was in the courtroom, "I'm not here," Mr. Caddy said. CADDY (impatiently) Clearly, I am here, but only as an individual, I'm not the attorney of record. (indicating unshaven man) Mr. Rafferty has that position. Whatever you want, you'll have to get from him, I have nothing more to say. And as he gets up, walks off-- CUT TO: THE WATER FOUNTAIN IN THE CORRIDOR. There is a small line. CADDY waits at the end of it. WOODWARD (moving in behind him) Mr. Rafferty was very helpful. Four Cuban-Americans and this other man, James McCord. CADDY Look, I told you inside-- WOODWARD --you have nothing more to say, I understand that. CADDY turns away; WOODWARD goes right on. WOODWARD What I don't understand is how you got here. CADDY I assure you, there's nothing mysterious involved. WOODWARD Probably you're right, but a little while ago, I was talking to a couple of lawyers who'd been assigned to represent the burglars. CADDY So? WOODWARD Well, they never would have been assigned if anyone had known the burglars had arranged for their own counsel. And that could only mean the burglars didn't arrange for their own counsel--they never even made a phone call. (looks at CADDY) So if they didn't ask for you to be here, how did you know to come? Without a word, CADDY turns, leaves the line without getting a drink. Silently, WOODWARD watches. Now-- CUT TO: CADDY seated as before beside RAFFERTY. WOODWARD's voice come from behind him, and as CADDY turns, WOODWARD is seated one row back. WOODWARD Did you know to come because one of the other men involved in the break- in called you? CADDY (turning) There is no reason to assume other people were involved. WOODWARD Your clients were arrested with a walkie-talkie; they didn't need that to talk among themselves. CADDY looks at WOODWARD, turns back. CADDY (turning back) They are not my clients. WOODWARD You're a lawyer and you're here-- CADDY --I met one of the defendants, Mr. Barker, at a social occasion once-- (stops himself) --I have nothing more to say. WOODWARD (leaning forward as CADDY turns away again) A Miami social occasion? (explaining) Mr. Rafferty told me the Cubans were from Miami. CADDY (sighing) Barker's wife called me at three this morning; her husband apparently had told her to call if he hadn't called her by then. WOODWARD It was really nice of you to come, since you'd only met him once. CADDY Are you implying you don't believe me? WOODWARD I have nothing more to say. CADDY You don't mind getting on people's nerves, do you? WOODWARD considers this a moment. Then-- WOODWARD Nope. And on that word-- CUT TO: THE COURTROOM as without warning, it quiets. There is suddenly a tremendous air of expectancy, you can feel it. Now we see why as five men in dark business suits are led in; they've been stripped of belts, ties, and shoelaces. McCord is taller than the others. They stand, facing the JUDGE, backs to the audience. WOODWARD sits watching as the proceedings start, but it's hard to hear. He concentrates as the JUDGE starts speaking. JUDGE Will you please state your professions. The five men do not move or reply. Then, after a long pause, Barker says-- BARKER Anti-Communists. JUDGE Anti-Communists? (perplexed) That, sir, is not your average occupation. WOODWARD starts moving forward now, down an aisle, moving past kids and whores and all the rest, trying to hear what the hell's going on. At the front of the spectator's section is a fence-like wooden barricade about three feet high. As he approaches it-- The JUDGE indicates the bald burglar. JUDGE Your name, please. MCCORD James McCord. JUDGE Will you step forward, sir. (MCCORD obeys) WOODWARD at the bench is leaning forward, trying to hear but it's hard. JUDGE And what is your occupation, Mr. McCord? MCCORD (softly) Security consultant. JUDGE Where? MCCORD (softer) Government. Recently retired. JUDGE Where in government? MCCORD (we can't really make this out) ...Central... Intelligence... Agency... JUDGE (he can't either) Where? MCCORD (clearing his throat) The C.I.A. And on these words, ZOOM TO: CLOSE UP--WOODWARD leaning over the fence practically falling over it in a desperate straining effort to catch what's going on. WOODWARD (stunned) Holy shit. Now from the courtroom-- CUT TO: THOUSANDS AND THOUSANDS OF WASHINGTON POSTS. We are at the end of the press run, the papers are all assembled and being cabled and sent off by machine to various places. As the papers continue to roll past-- A UNION TYPE EMPLOYEE grabs a paper, looks at the front page. The Watergate story, headlined whatever it was headlined, is visible. The byline was by Alfred E. Lewis. The union type Post employee glances at the article-- UNION POST EMPLOYEE (reading half-aloud) "Five men, one of whom said he is a former employee..." (stops reading, gives a shrug) Schmucks. And he turns happily to the sports section-- CUT TO: A CLOSE UP OF HUNDRED DOLLAR BILLS. It's new money and looks as if it's been recently ironed. Someone is going through the cash, making a quick count. During this-- FIRST VOICE (V.O.) Hurry it, huh, Bachinski? BACHINSKI You said I could look at it-- PULL BACK TO REVEAL We're in a room in a police station and two men are present. One, a COP, is nervous as hell and constantly aware of the door. The other, BACHINSKI, is taking hurried notes in a reporter's type notebook as he examines the evidence. COP --I said look, not memorize-- BACHINSKI --almost done, give it a rest, all right... (and he looks at an address book, he stops) CUT TO: THE ADDRESS BOOK. Beside the name "Howard E. Hunt" is the notation "W.House." Now, BACHINSKI hurriedly opens the other book to the letter "H" and there is the same name, "Howard E. Hunt" and beside it, the letters, "W.H." COP (V.O.) What'd you find? BACHINSKI (V.O.) Beats me. These notebooks belonged to Cuban guys? COP (V.O.) S'right. BACHINSKI (V.O.) It's gotta mean either White House or whore house, one or the other. We HOLD on the HUNT name, and the address notations. Then-- CUT TO: WOODWARD'S APARTMENT - NIGHT. The phone rings, waking him. He fumbles for the phone and the light, finally gets them both. WOODWARD Bachinski? (reaches for a notebook) What?--hold it-- (gets it open, starts to write) --OK, go on, go on... CUT TO: A BOX OF MAALOX TABLETS. ROSENFELD is opening them, we're in his office, WOODWARD sits across the desk, holding the notebook we saw him writing in. ROSENFELD ...go on, go on... WOODWARD That's everything Bachinski had, I think it's worth following up. ROSENFELD Don't know; who the hell's Howard Hunt? (crunches tablets) It's probably nothing but check it out. Just go easy, it could be crazy Cubans. HOWARD SIMONS sticks his head in the office. SIMONS Anything? ROSENFELD Woodward's onto a new wrinkle with the break-in thing--absolute page one stuff-- SIMONS --in other words, you got nothing, you're thumbsucking. ROSENFELD (shrugs) Could develop. SIMONS Let me see what you get, but don't jump--The New York Times thinks it's crazy Cubans. He moves on. ROSENFELD turns quickly to WOODWARD. ROSENFELD OK, get on this W.House guy and do a better job then you did on McCord. WOODWARD I did all right on McCord. ROSENFELD Then how come the Associated Press were the ones found out that Mr. McCord is security coordinator for the Committee to Re-elect the President, otherwise known as CREEP? WOODWARD (getting it straight) The head of security for the reelection of a Republican President got caught bugging the national offices of the Democrats? What the hell does that mean? ROSENFELD (hasn't the foggiest) Mr. John Mitchell, the head of CREEP, says it means nothing. (reads) "...This man and the other people involved were not operating on either our behalf or with our consent. These is no place in our campaign or in the electoral process for this type of activity, and we will not forget it or condone it." WOODWARD (getting up) You can't believe that. ROSENFELD As a rough rule of thumb, as far as I can throw Bronco Nagurski, that's how much I trust John Mitchell... Now-- CUT TO: A MOON-FACED MAN RINGING A TRIANGLE. CUT TO: THE NEWSROOM as the triangle sound echoes. HOWARD SIMONS leaves large Managing Editor's office, walks past another office, knocks twice on the glass wall. Inside the Executive Editor's office, BEN BRADLEE sits. As SIMONS knocks, he turns, nods. He appears, for the moment, deep in thought. HARRY ROSENFELD on the opposite end of the room hurries out of his office, following a bunch of editors, all of them heading across the huge room. As he passes WOODWARD's desk ROSENFELD pauses. ROSENFELD What'd you get on W.House? WOODWARD (massaging his neck) Lotsa hints-- ROSENFELD (not happy) I can't sell hints to Simons-- (stops, looks at piece of yellow paper) --you called everyone you know? (WOODWARD makes a nod) Call someone you don't know. WOODWARD continues to rub his neck as ROSENFELD hurries off, all the editors still moving toward the place where the moon- faced man intermittently rings the triangle. WOODWARD picks up the sheet of yellow paper from his desk. Lined, legal-sized, it is crammed with names and numbers and addresses. They are in no neat order; looking at them it's almost like following a path; chicken tracks in ink. WOODWARD mutters "to hell with it" and reaches for a thick book, flips it open. NOW WE SEE THE BOOK: It's the Washington Phone Directory and we're in the W's. As WOODWARD's finger stops, we can see he's looking at the White HOuse entry number. There it is, just like your name and mine. Listed. Now WOODWARD starts to dial, visibly nervous, a fact he tries very hard to keep out of his voice tone. WHITE HOUSE OPERATOR (V.O.) White House. WOODWARD (casually) Howard Hunt, please. Throughout the following call, we stay on WOODWARD's face, hear the other voices. WHITE HOUSE OPERATOR (V.O.) Mr. Hunt does not answer. WOODWARD is delighted he's even there. WOODWARD Thanks, anyway-- And he's about to hang up, when-- WHITE HOUSE OPERATOR (V.O.) I'll bet he's in Mr. Colson's office. Let me connect you. SECRETARY (V.O.) Charles Colson's wire. WOODWARD (a little more excited) Howard Hunt, please. SECRETARY (V.O.) Mr. Hunt isn't here just now. WOODWARD Thanks, anyway. And he's about to hang up again when-- SECRETARY (V.O.) Have you tried Mullen and Company Public Relations? He works at Mullen and Company Public Relations as a writer. The number is 555-1313. I'm sorry I couldn't be more helpful. WOODWARD Listen, forget it. He hangs up, sits there. His hands are a little twitchy... HOLD. Now-- CUT TO: ROSENFELD hurrying (he always hurries) toward his office. WOODWARD, looking for something in his desk throughout this scene, speaks to him. WOODWARD Who's Charles Colson? ROSENFELD (stops dead) I would liken your query to being in Russia half a century ago and asking someone, "I understand who Lenin is and Trotsky I got too, but who's this yokel Stalin?" WOODWARD Who's Colson, Harry? ROSENFELD The most powerful man in America is President Nixon, probably you've heard his name. WOODWARD, unfazed by anything, continues to open drawers, close them, as ROSENFELD rolls on. ROSENFELD The second most powerful man is Robert Haldeman. Just below him are a trio: Mr. Erlichman is Haldeman's friend, and they protect the President from everybody which is why they are referred to as either The German Shepherds or the Berlin Wall. Mr. Mitchell we've already discussed. Mr. Colson is the President's special counsel. WOODWARD (rising) Thanks, Harry. (looks at ROSENFELD) Know anything about Colson? ROSENFELD Just that on his office wall there's a cartoon with a caption reading, "When you've got them by the balls, their hearts and minds will follow." WOODWARD nods, heads back toward the files as we CUT TO: WOODWARD AT HIS DESK dialing the phone. He's got the Colson file spread out now, and we see pictures of the man and articles the Post had done on him. But basically what we see is WOODWARD plugging away on the goddamn phone and you'd think his finger would fall off from all the dialing and you know his voice is tiring as this montage goes on, you can hear it grow raspy. But a lot of what a reporter does he does on the phone, and that's what we're compressing here. The dialing never stops, the voices are continuous. WOODWARD Hello, I'm Bob Woodward of the Washing Post and... (beat) Mullen and Company Public Relations? Could you tell me when you expect Mr. Hunt? (surprised) He is? HUNT (V.O.) Howard Hunt here. WOODWARD Hi, I'm Bob Woodward of the Post and-- HUNT (V.O.) (impatient) --yes, yes, what is it? WOODWARD I was just kind of wondering why your name and phone number were in the address books of two of the men arrested at Watergate? HUNT (V.O.) (blind panic) Good God! And he bangs the phone down sharply-- --more dialing SOUNDS. Now snatches of conversation-- WOODWARD I'm sorry to bother you, Mr. Bennett, but we're doing some investigating of one of your employees, Howard Hunt. BENNETT (V.O.) Well, if you've been doing some investigating then obviously it's no secret to you that Howard was with the C.I.A. WOODWARD (he hadn't known) No secret at all. More dialing. Then-- WOODWARD (tired, voice deeper) Hello, C.I.A. This is R.W. Woodward, of the Washington Post--get me Personnel-- Dialing again. WOODWARD's voice is showing genuine fatigue. WOODWARD Hi, I'm Bob Woodward of the Washington Post--and--what's that?--you've never heard of me?--I can't help that--you don't believe I'm with the Post?-- what do you want me to do, Madam, shout "extra--extra"? There is the SOUND of the phone being slammed down in his ear. Hard. Now-- CUT TO: ROSENFELD AND SIMONS approaching WOODWARD who is working at his desk. He has put in a lot of hours on this and looks it. ROSENFELD Whaddya got, whaddya got? WOODWARD Hunt is Colson's man-- (to SIMONS, explaining) --that's Charles Colson, Nixon's special counsel-- (SIMONS almost says something, decides against it) --they both went to Brown University-- (consulting his notes) --Hunt worked for the C.I.A. till '70, and this is on deep background, the FBI thinks he's involved with the break-in. SIMONS What else have you got? WOODWARD According to White House personnel, Hunt definitely works there as a consultant for Colson. But when I called the White House Press office, they said he hadn't worked there for three months. Then the P.R. guy said the weirdest thing to me. (reading) "I am convinced that neither Mr. Colson nor anyone else at the White House had any knowledge of, or participation in, this deplorable incident at the Democratic National Committee." He looks up at them. SIMONS Isn't that what you'd expect them to say? WOODWARD Absolutely. ROSENFELD So? WOODWARD (he's got something and he knows it) I never asked them about Watergate. I only said what were Hunt's duties at the White House. They volunteered that he was innocent when nobody asked was he guilty. ROSENFELD (to SIMONS) I think we got a White House consultant linked to the bugging. SIMONS (nods) Just be careful how you write it. CUT TO: WOODWARD TYPING LIKE MAD, makes a mistake, corrects it, types on muttering to himself, and-- CUT TO: ROSENFELD IN HIS OFFICE munching a handful of Maalox tablets and-- CUT TO: WOODWARD taking a sheet from his typewriter, hurrying off and-- CUT TO: ROSENFELD taking the sheet from WOODWARD-- WOODWARD Here's the first take-- ROSENFELD nods, shows him out and-- CUT TO: WOODWARD BACK AT HIS MACHINE typing faster then before, makes another mistake, starts to correct it, glances around and-- CUT TO: ROSENFELD IN HIS OFFICE gesturing to somebody but not WOODWARD and-- CUT TO: WOODWARD watching as BERNSTEIN appears in view from behind the wide pillar by WOODWARD's desk, heads toward ROSENFELD's office. WOODWARD shrugs, goes back to his typing, makes a typo immediately, glances over toward ROSENFELD's office, freezes as we-- CUT TO: ROSENFELD handing some papers to BERNSTEIN. They look, from this distance, suspiciously like WOODWARD's story. CUT TO: BERNSTEIN hurrying out of ROSENFELD's office, and-- CUT TO: WOODWARD watching BERNSTEIN until he disappears out of sight behind the pillar. WOODWARD hesitates, finally goes back to his typing, makes another mistake, fixes it, makes still another, his temper is shortly to make itself known-- CUT TO: ROSENFELD as WOODWARD hands him another sheet of paper. WOODWARD This is all of it, Harry. ROSENFELD NODS, takes it, immediately starts to read as we-- CUT TO: WOODWARD AT HIS DESK watching as ROSENFELD gestures again. There is a pause. Then BERNSTEIN appears from behind the pillar and-- CUT TO: ROSENFELD handing BERNSTEIN another sheet of paper. BERSTEIN nods, takes it, walks back toward his desk, disappears behind the pillar again. WOODWARD is starting to steam. Now-- CUT TO: BERNSTEIN AT HIS DESK typing magnificently, his hands rising and falling like Rubinstein's. Behind him is the pillar and for a moment there is nothing--then, very slowly, a figure peers out from behind the pillar--it is WOODWARD. He watches. BERNSTEIN continues to type, then after a moment, rests, thinks, shifts around in his chair and as his glance starts toward the pillar-- CUT TO: THE PILLAR. WOODWARD is gone. CUT TO: BERNSTEIN typing madly away. THE PILLAR. WOODWARD is visible again, eyes very bright... now-- CUT TO: BERNSTEIN finishing typing, his hands moving majestically. WOODWARD comes up behind him, stands looking a second. Then-- WOODWARD We have to talk. BERNSTEIN nods, grabs the papers both that he's been typing and that he's been copying from. And as he rises-- PAN TO: WOODWARD AND BERNSTEIN walking silently out of the newsroom then turning left down a darker corridor, passing bulletin boards and wall lockers and it's all nice and quiet as they amble on, nodding to the few people they pass on their way and after a while they turn right and enter the coffee lounge which is empty; the walls are lined with Norman Rockwell reproductions and various kinds of vending machines are visible, selling coffee or milk or fruit or sandwiches and there are some plastic tables and chairs and the minute they are alone, the silence ends. WOODWARD What the hell were you doing rewriting my story-- BERNSTEIN --I sure couldn't hurt it, could I?-- WOODWARD --it was fine the way it was-- BERNSTEIN --it was bullshit the way it was-- WOODWARD --I have to stand here and listen to the staff correspondent from Virginia?-- BERNSTEIN (a sore subject) --what have you been here, nine months?--I been in this business since I was sixteen-- WOODWARD --and you've had some fucking meteoric rise, that's for sure--by the time you turn forty you might be the head of the Montana bureau-- BERNSTEIN --you only got the job because both you and Bradlee went to Yale-- WOODWARD --Bradlee went to Harvard-- BERNSTEIN --they're all the same, all those Ivy League places--they teach you about striped ties and suddenly you're smart-- WOODWARD --I'm smart enough to know my story was solid-- BERNSTEIN --mine's better-- WOODWARD --no way-- BERNSTEIN (handing them over) --read 'em both and you'll see-- And as WOODWARD glances at the two stories-- CUT TO: BERNSTEIN watching. Now-- CUT TO: WOODWARD. He glances from one story to the other. Then, disconsolately-- WOODWARD ...crap... And he sinks down in a chair. BERNSTEIN Is mine better? WOODWARD nods. WOODWARD (handing the stories back) What is it about my writing that's so rotten? BERNSTEIN (as he exits) Mainly it has to do with your choice of words. And as he goes, leaving WOODWARD just sitting there-- CUT TO: BERSTEIN, re-entering the newsroom, returning to his desk. He starts to insert some papers into his typewriter, hesitates, lights a cigarette. He inhales, as, behind him, WOODWARD briefly is visible going to his desk behind the pillar. Finally BERNSTEIN inserts the paper, starts to type as WOODWARD (V.O.) (from behind the pillar) Carl? BERNSTEIN (turns) Yeah? WOODWARD (pushing his chair briefly into view) Fuck you, Carl. And as he rolls forward again, out of sight-- CUT TO: RICHARD NIXON ON THE TUBE. (It's the June 22 Press Conference.) He talks on about something, it doesn't matter exactly what here, the point is, it should include that strange smile of his that kept appearing when the man should not have been smiling. Hints of pressure maybe, that's all, and once it's established-- PULL BACK TO REVEAL: WOODWARD sitting alone, gloomily staring at the set. We're in the Post Cafeteria, it's the next morning, and the place is pretty much empty. He sips the coffee, it tastes rotten. BERNSTEIN moves up behind him, carrying a cup of coffee of his own. He stands by WOODWARD briefly. BERNSTEIN You heard? (WOODWARD glances up) They put us both on the break-in thing. Simons liked the way we worked together. (WOODWARD nods, BERNSTEIN sits down) Listen, I'm sorry I said your story was bullshit. WOODWARD It's OK; I'm sorry I called you a failure. BERNSTEIN Forget it, the main thing-- (stops) --did you call me a failure? WOODWARD I was sure trying. CUT TO: WOODWARD, BERNSTEIN, AND NIXON. The way it's shot, it's almost as if they're watching each other; NIXON staring out from the TV set, answering questions. WOODWARD and BERNSTEIN sip coffee. We don't know yet--or better, they don't know it yet, but these are our adversaries. CUT TO: WOODWARD AND BERNSTEIN, without NIXON now. They sit at the table. Occasionally, NIXON is audible in the background. WOODWARD All right, what do we know? BERNSTEIN Let me lay a little theory on you-- WOODWARD (cutting him off) --I'm not interested in theory. What do we know? For example, Hunt's disappeared. BERNSTEIN Well, Barker tried to get blueprints of the Miami Convention Center and the air-conditioning system. WOODWARD And McCord was carrying an application for college press credentials for the Democratic convention. (to BERNSTEIN) The Times has got to be full of it-- it can't be crazy Cubans. BERNSTEIN What, though? (points to Nixon) It can't be the Republicans--he'd never allow something as stupid as this, not when he's gonna slaughter McGovern anyway. WOODWARD Right. Nixon didn't get where he got by being dumb-- (stops abruptly) --listen, that was a Watergate question-- CUT TO: NIXON ON THE TUBE. Serious now. NIXON The White House has had no involvement whatever in this particular incident. CUT TO: WOODWARD AND BERNSTEIN staring at the set thinking... CUT TO: WOODWARD AND BERNSTEIN walking toward BERSTEIN'S desk. WOODWARD Hey? BERNSTEIN Hmm. WOODWARD What do you think he meant, this particular incident? Were there others? How would we find out? You know anyone important? BERNSTEIN (sits, shakes his head) I lived here all my life, I got a million contacts, but they're all bus boys and bellhops. The reporter KEN RINGLE at the next desk watches them a moment. Then-- RINGLE What do you need? BERNSTEIN Someone inside the White House would be nice. RINGLE (writes down phone number) Call her. She worked for Colson, if that's any help. As BERNSTEIN grabs for the phone-- CUT TO: A SECRETARIAL POOL IN A LARGE OFFICE. BERNSTEIN is talking off to one side with an attractive girl. GIRL Kenny's crazy, I never worked for Colson, I worked for an assistant. Colson was big on secrets anyway. Even if I had worked for him, I wouldn't have known anything. BERNSTEIN Nothing at all you can remember? SECRETARY (headshake) Sorry. (pause) Now if it was Hunt you were interested in-- BERNSTEIN --Howard Hunt? SECRETARY Sure. Him I liked, he was a very nice person. Secretive too, traveled all over, but a decent man. BERNSTEIN Any idea what he did? SECRETARY Oh, the scuttlebutt for awhile was he was investigating Kennedy-- BERNSTEIN --Teddy Kennedy? SECRETARY Sure. I remember seeing a book about Chappaquiddick on his desk and he was always getting material out of the White House Library and the Library of Congress and-- And as

motor

How many times the word 'motor' appears in the text?

All the President's Men Script at IMSDb. var _gaq = _gaq || []; _gaq.push(['_setAccount', 'UA-3785444-3']); _gaq.push(['_trackPageview']); (function() { var ga = document.createElement('script'); ga.type = 'text/javascript'; ga.async = true; ga.src = ('https:' == document.location.protocol ? 'https://ssl' : 'http://www') + '.google-analytics.com/ga.js'; var s = document.getElementsByTagName('script')[0]; s.parentNode.insertBefore(ga, s); })(); The Internet Movie Script Database (IMSDb) The web's largest movie script resource! Search IMSDb Alphabetical # A B C D E F G H I J K L M N O P Q R S T U V W X Y Z Genre Action Adventure Animation Comedy Crime Drama Family Fantasy Film-Noir Horror Musical Mystery Romance Sci-Fi Short Thriller War Western Sponsor TV Transcripts Futurama Seinfeld South Park Stargate SG-1 Lost The 4400 International French scripts Movie Software Rip from DVD Rip Blu-Ray Latest Comments Star Wars: Revenge of the Sith10/10 Star Wars: The Force Awakens10/10 Batman Begins9/10 Collateral10/10 Jackie Brown8/10 Movie Chat Message Yell ! ALL SCRIPTS ALL THE PRESIDENT'S MEN - by William Goldman if (window!= top) top.location.href=location.href // --> "ALL THE PRESIDENT'S MEN" by William Goldman Based on the novel "All The President's Men" by Carl Bernstein and Bob Woodward Pre-rehearsal version March, 1975 Start with as few credits as possible. When they're over-- FADE IN ON: A TINY BLACK PIECE OF TAPE. We see it in the center of the large, dimly lit screen. As the tape is pressed around a door-- BEGIN THE BREAK-IN SEQUENCE. It's a major piece of action, running maybe five minutes and it's all as detailed and accurate as we can make it, with as many "if only's" included as possible. ("If only" the tape had been attached up and down instead of around the door, Wills wouldn't have spotted it and alerted the police; "if only" the first police car called had gone to investigate, Baldwin, watching from the Howard Johnson Motor Inn, would have seen their uniforms and radioed Hunt and Liddy in time for them to have gotten to the five burglars and then safely away.) The break-in ends when Leeper arrests the five men. He thought he only had one guy, so when ten hands were raised he was surprised. The hands are all encased in Playtex rubber surgical gloves. HOLD on the hands a moment; then-- GO TO: A DARK APARTMENT. The phone rings. WOODWARD fumbles for the receiver, turns on the bed light. He listens a moment. WOODWARD No, no trouble, Harry, be right down. (he hangs up) Son of a bitch. He lies back. The apartment is one room, a small terrace beyond. Not much of a place. WOODWARD lies still, staring at the ceiling. He blinks, blinks again. HOLD... CUT TO: THE ENORMOUS FIFTH FLOOR OF THE WASHINGTON POST. It looks, early of a Saturday morning, pretty deserted. Those reporters that are around are young, bright, and presently involved in nothing more taxing than drinking coffee and thumbing through the papers. HARRY ROSENFELD surveys the scene from his office doorway as WOODWARD approaches, hangs his coat at his desk, not far from where ROSENFELD is standing. ROSENFELD Where's that cheery face we've come to know and love? WOODWARD You call me in on my day off because some idiots have broken into local Democratic Headquarters--tell me, Harry, why should I be smiling? ROSENFELD As usual, that keen mind of yours has pegged the situation perfectly. (chomps on some Maalox tablets) Except (a) it wasn't local Democratic Headquarters, it was National Democratic Headquarters-- (WOODWARD is surprised-- he hadn't known) --and (b) these weren't just any idiots, these were special idiots, seeing as when they were arrested at 2:30 this morning, they were all wearing business suits and Playtex gloves and were carrying-- (consults a piece of paper) --a walkie-talkie, forty rolls of film, cameras, lock picks, pen-sized tear gas guns, plus various bugging devices. (puts paper down) Not to mention over two thousand dollars, mostly in sequenced hundred dollar bills. WOODWARD Preliminary hearing at Superior Courthouse? ROSENFELD (nods) Two o'clock, work the phones 'til you go. CUT TO: THE CRIMINAL COURTS BUILDING. WOODWARD hurries along, goes inside as we CUT TO: A CORRIDOR INSIDE. WOODWARD comes down it, looks around, sees a door marked "Counsel's Offices" and heads toward it. Now-- CUT TO: A CLERK AT A DESK as WOODWARD comes up. Behind them, two lawyers are clearly angry about something, talking and gesticulating to each other. WOODWARD (to the COUNSEL'S CLERK) Could you give me the names of the lawyers for the men arrested in the Watergate. CLERK These two were appointed-- (indicates the angry men) --only now it turns out the burglars got their own counsel. (he starts to laugh) FIRST ANGRY LAWYER (to CLERK) When you gonna stop thinking it's so funny. SECOND ANGRY LAWYER (To CLERK) We wouldda done a terrific job protecting those guys. (neither lawyer, by the way, is Clarence Darrow) FIRST ANGRY LAWYER You think we're not as good as some hotshot fancy lawyer?-- CUT TO: THE COURTROOM and business is booming. Muggers, pimp, hookers, their families and friends. In the scene that follows, a constant counterpoint is what's going on up at the front as an endless succession of petty criminals caught the previous night, the aforementioned muggers, pimps, and hookers, are shuttled in, given a quick appearance before a JUDGE who sets bond, and then shuttled out. In the audience, one man stands out--DOUGLAS CADDY. He is extremely well-dressed and obviously successful. Beside him sits another smaller man, who is unshaven and squints. WOODWARD moves in, sits alongside CADDY. WOODWARD Mr. Caddy? My name's Bob Woodward, I'm from the Post and I wanted to ask about how you happened to come on this case-- CADDY --I'm not here. WOODWARD (nods) OK. He takes out a small notebook, writes, muttering aloud as he does. WOODWARD Douglas Caddy, the attorney of record, when questioned about his presence in the courtroom, denied he was in the courtroom, "I'm not here," Mr. Caddy said. CADDY (impatiently) Clearly, I am here, but only as an individual, I'm not the attorney of record. (indicating unshaven man) Mr. Rafferty has that position. Whatever you want, you'll have to get from him, I have nothing more to say. And as he gets up, walks off-- CUT TO: THE WATER FOUNTAIN IN THE CORRIDOR. There is a small line. CADDY waits at the end of it. WOODWARD (moving in behind him) Mr. Rafferty was very helpful. Four Cuban-Americans and this other man, James McCord. CADDY Look, I told you inside-- WOODWARD --you have nothing more to say, I understand that. CADDY turns away; WOODWARD goes right on. WOODWARD What I don't understand is how you got here. CADDY I assure you, there's nothing mysterious involved. WOODWARD Probably you're right, but a little while ago, I was talking to a couple of lawyers who'd been assigned to represent the burglars. CADDY So? WOODWARD Well, they never would have been assigned if anyone had known the burglars had arranged for their own counsel. And that could only mean the burglars didn't arrange for their own counsel--they never even made a phone call. (looks at CADDY) So if they didn't ask for you to be here, how did you know to come? Without a word, CADDY turns, leaves the line without getting a drink. Silently, WOODWARD watches. Now-- CUT TO: CADDY seated as before beside RAFFERTY. WOODWARD's voice come from behind him, and as CADDY turns, WOODWARD is seated one row back. WOODWARD Did you know to come because one of the other men involved in the break- in called you? CADDY (turning) There is no reason to assume other people were involved. WOODWARD Your clients were arrested with a walkie-talkie; they didn't need that to talk among themselves. CADDY looks at WOODWARD, turns back. CADDY (turning back) They are not my clients. WOODWARD You're a lawyer and you're here-- CADDY --I met one of the defendants, Mr. Barker, at a social occasion once-- (stops himself) --I have nothing more to say. WOODWARD (leaning forward as CADDY turns away again) A Miami social occasion? (explaining) Mr. Rafferty told me the Cubans were from Miami. CADDY (sighing) Barker's wife called me at three this morning; her husband apparently had told her to call if he hadn't called her by then. WOODWARD It was really nice of you to come, since you'd only met him once. CADDY Are you implying you don't believe me? WOODWARD I have nothing more to say. CADDY You don't mind getting on people's nerves, do you? WOODWARD considers this a moment. Then-- WOODWARD Nope. And on that word-- CUT TO: THE COURTROOM as without warning, it quiets. There is suddenly a tremendous air of expectancy, you can feel it. Now we see why as five men in dark business suits are led in; they've been stripped of belts, ties, and shoelaces. McCord is taller than the others. They stand, facing the JUDGE, backs to the audience. WOODWARD sits watching as the proceedings start, but it's hard to hear. He concentrates as the JUDGE starts speaking. JUDGE Will you please state your professions. The five men do not move or reply. Then, after a long pause, Barker says-- BARKER Anti-Communists. JUDGE Anti-Communists? (perplexed) That, sir, is not your average occupation. WOODWARD starts moving forward now, down an aisle, moving past kids and whores and all the rest, trying to hear what the hell's going on. At the front of the spectator's section is a fence-like wooden barricade about three feet high. As he approaches it-- The JUDGE indicates the bald burglar. JUDGE Your name, please. MCCORD James McCord. JUDGE Will you step forward, sir. (MCCORD obeys) WOODWARD at the bench is leaning forward, trying to hear but it's hard. JUDGE And what is your occupation, Mr. McCord? MCCORD (softly) Security consultant. JUDGE Where? MCCORD (softer) Government. Recently retired. JUDGE Where in government? MCCORD (we can't really make this out) ...Central... Intelligence... Agency... JUDGE (he can't either) Where? MCCORD (clearing his throat) The C.I.A. And on these words, ZOOM TO: CLOSE UP--WOODWARD leaning over the fence practically falling over it in a desperate straining effort to catch what's going on. WOODWARD (stunned) Holy shit. Now from the courtroom-- CUT TO: THOUSANDS AND THOUSANDS OF WASHINGTON POSTS. We are at the end of the press run, the papers are all assembled and being cabled and sent off by machine to various places. As the papers continue to roll past-- A UNION TYPE EMPLOYEE grabs a paper, looks at the front page. The Watergate story, headlined whatever it was headlined, is visible. The byline was by Alfred E. Lewis. The union type Post employee glances at the article-- UNION POST EMPLOYEE (reading half-aloud) "Five men, one of whom said he is a former employee..." (stops reading, gives a shrug) Schmucks. And he turns happily to the sports section-- CUT TO: A CLOSE UP OF HUNDRED DOLLAR BILLS. It's new money and looks as if it's been recently ironed. Someone is going through the cash, making a quick count. During this-- FIRST VOICE (V.O.) Hurry it, huh, Bachinski? BACHINSKI You said I could look at it-- PULL BACK TO REVEAL We're in a room in a police station and two men are present. One, a COP, is nervous as hell and constantly aware of the door. The other, BACHINSKI, is taking hurried notes in a reporter's type notebook as he examines the evidence. COP --I said look, not memorize-- BACHINSKI --almost done, give it a rest, all right... (and he looks at an address book, he stops) CUT TO: THE ADDRESS BOOK. Beside the name "Howard E. Hunt" is the notation "W.House." Now, BACHINSKI hurriedly opens the other book to the letter "H" and there is the same name, "Howard E. Hunt" and beside it, the letters, "W.H." COP (V.O.) What'd you find? BACHINSKI (V.O.) Beats me. These notebooks belonged to Cuban guys? COP (V.O.) S'right. BACHINSKI (V.O.) It's gotta mean either White House or whore house, one or the other. We HOLD on the HUNT name, and the address notations. Then-- CUT TO: WOODWARD'S APARTMENT - NIGHT. The phone rings, waking him. He fumbles for the phone and the light, finally gets them both. WOODWARD Bachinski? (reaches for a notebook) What?--hold it-- (gets it open, starts to write) --OK, go on, go on... CUT TO: A BOX OF MAALOX TABLETS. ROSENFELD is opening them, we're in his office, WOODWARD sits across the desk, holding the notebook we saw him writing in. ROSENFELD ...go on, go on... WOODWARD That's everything Bachinski had, I think it's worth following up. ROSENFELD Don't know; who the hell's Howard Hunt? (crunches tablets) It's probably nothing but check it out. Just go easy, it could be crazy Cubans. HOWARD SIMONS sticks his head in the office. SIMONS Anything? ROSENFELD Woodward's onto a new wrinkle with the break-in thing--absolute page one stuff-- SIMONS --in other words, you got nothing, you're thumbsucking. ROSENFELD (shrugs) Could develop. SIMONS Let me see what you get, but don't jump--The New York Times thinks it's crazy Cubans. He moves on. ROSENFELD turns quickly to WOODWARD. ROSENFELD OK, get on this W.House guy and do a better job then you did on McCord. WOODWARD I did all right on McCord. ROSENFELD Then how come the Associated Press were the ones found out that Mr. McCord is security coordinator for the Committee to Re-elect the President, otherwise known as CREEP? WOODWARD (getting it straight) The head of security for the reelection of a Republican President got caught bugging the national offices of the Democrats? What the hell does that mean? ROSENFELD (hasn't the foggiest) Mr. John Mitchell, the head of CREEP, says it means nothing. (reads) "...This man and the other people involved were not operating on either our behalf or with our consent. These is no place in our campaign or in the electoral process for this type of activity, and we will not forget it or condone it." WOODWARD (getting up) You can't believe that. ROSENFELD As a rough rule of thumb, as far as I can throw Bronco Nagurski, that's how much I trust John Mitchell... Now-- CUT TO: A MOON-FACED MAN RINGING A TRIANGLE. CUT TO: THE NEWSROOM as the triangle sound echoes. HOWARD SIMONS leaves large Managing Editor's office, walks past another office, knocks twice on the glass wall. Inside the Executive Editor's office, BEN BRADLEE sits. As SIMONS knocks, he turns, nods. He appears, for the moment, deep in thought. HARRY ROSENFELD on the opposite end of the room hurries out of his office, following a bunch of editors, all of them heading across the huge room. As he passes WOODWARD's desk ROSENFELD pauses. ROSENFELD What'd you get on W.House? WOODWARD (massaging his neck) Lotsa hints-- ROSENFELD (not happy) I can't sell hints to Simons-- (stops, looks at piece of yellow paper) --you called everyone you know? (WOODWARD makes a nod) Call someone you don't know. WOODWARD continues to rub his neck as ROSENFELD hurries off, all the editors still moving toward the place where the moon- faced man intermittently rings the triangle. WOODWARD picks up the sheet of yellow paper from his desk. Lined, legal-sized, it is crammed with names and numbers and addresses. They are in no neat order; looking at them it's almost like following a path; chicken tracks in ink. WOODWARD mutters "to hell with it" and reaches for a thick book, flips it open. NOW WE SEE THE BOOK: It's the Washington Phone Directory and we're in the W's. As WOODWARD's finger stops, we can see he's looking at the White HOuse entry number. There it is, just like your name and mine. Listed. Now WOODWARD starts to dial, visibly nervous, a fact he tries very hard to keep out of his voice tone. WHITE HOUSE OPERATOR (V.O.) White House. WOODWARD (casually) Howard Hunt, please. Throughout the following call, we stay on WOODWARD's face, hear the other voices. WHITE HOUSE OPERATOR (V.O.) Mr. Hunt does not answer. WOODWARD is delighted he's even there. WOODWARD Thanks, anyway-- And he's about to hang up, when-- WHITE HOUSE OPERATOR (V.O.) I'll bet he's in Mr. Colson's office. Let me connect you. SECRETARY (V.O.) Charles Colson's wire. WOODWARD (a little more excited) Howard Hunt, please. SECRETARY (V.O.) Mr. Hunt isn't here just now. WOODWARD Thanks, anyway. And he's about to hang up again when-- SECRETARY (V.O.) Have you tried Mullen and Company Public Relations? He works at Mullen and Company Public Relations as a writer. The number is 555-1313. I'm sorry I couldn't be more helpful. WOODWARD Listen, forget it. He hangs up, sits there. His hands are a little twitchy... HOLD. Now-- CUT TO: ROSENFELD hurrying (he always hurries) toward his office. WOODWARD, looking for something in his desk throughout this scene, speaks to him. WOODWARD Who's Charles Colson? ROSENFELD (stops dead) I would liken your query to being in Russia half a century ago and asking someone, "I understand who Lenin is and Trotsky I got too, but who's this yokel Stalin?" WOODWARD Who's Colson, Harry? ROSENFELD The most powerful man in America is President Nixon, probably you've heard his name. WOODWARD, unfazed by anything, continues to open drawers, close them, as ROSENFELD rolls on. ROSENFELD The second most powerful man is Robert Haldeman. Just below him are a trio: Mr. Erlichman is Haldeman's friend, and they protect the President from everybody which is why they are referred to as either The German Shepherds or the Berlin Wall. Mr. Mitchell we've already discussed. Mr. Colson is the President's special counsel. WOODWARD (rising) Thanks, Harry. (looks at ROSENFELD) Know anything about Colson? ROSENFELD Just that on his office wall there's a cartoon with a caption reading, "When you've got them by the balls, their hearts and minds will follow." WOODWARD nods, heads back toward the files as we CUT TO: WOODWARD AT HIS DESK dialing the phone. He's got the Colson file spread out now, and we see pictures of the man and articles the Post had done on him. But basically what we see is WOODWARD plugging away on the goddamn phone and you'd think his finger would fall off from all the dialing and you know his voice is tiring as this montage goes on, you can hear it grow raspy. But a lot of what a reporter does he does on the phone, and that's what we're compressing here. The dialing never stops, the voices are continuous. WOODWARD Hello, I'm Bob Woodward of the Washing Post and... (beat) Mullen and Company Public Relations? Could you tell me when you expect Mr. Hunt? (surprised) He is? HUNT (V.O.) Howard Hunt here. WOODWARD Hi, I'm Bob Woodward of the Post and-- HUNT (V.O.) (impatient) --yes, yes, what is it? WOODWARD I was just kind of wondering why your name and phone number were in the address books of two of the men arrested at Watergate? HUNT (V.O.) (blind panic) Good God! And he bangs the phone down sharply-- --more dialing SOUNDS. Now snatches of conversation-- WOODWARD I'm sorry to bother you, Mr. Bennett, but we're doing some investigating of one of your employees, Howard Hunt. BENNETT (V.O.) Well, if you've been doing some investigating then obviously it's no secret to you that Howard was with the C.I.A. WOODWARD (he hadn't known) No secret at all. More dialing. Then-- WOODWARD (tired, voice deeper) Hello, C.I.A. This is R.W. Woodward, of the Washington Post--get me Personnel-- Dialing again. WOODWARD's voice is showing genuine fatigue. WOODWARD Hi, I'm Bob Woodward of the Washington Post--and--what's that?--you've never heard of me?--I can't help that--you don't believe I'm with the Post?-- what do you want me to do, Madam, shout "extra--extra"? There is the SOUND of the phone being slammed down in his ear. Hard. Now-- CUT TO: ROSENFELD AND SIMONS approaching WOODWARD who is working at his desk. He has put in a lot of hours on this and looks it. ROSENFELD Whaddya got, whaddya got? WOODWARD Hunt is Colson's man-- (to SIMONS, explaining) --that's Charles Colson, Nixon's special counsel-- (SIMONS almost says something, decides against it) --they both went to Brown University-- (consulting his notes) --Hunt worked for the C.I.A. till '70, and this is on deep background, the FBI thinks he's involved with the break-in. SIMONS What else have you got? WOODWARD According to White House personnel, Hunt definitely works there as a consultant for Colson. But when I called the White House Press office, they said he hadn't worked there for three months. Then the P.R. guy said the weirdest thing to me. (reading) "I am convinced that neither Mr. Colson nor anyone else at the White House had any knowledge of, or participation in, this deplorable incident at the Democratic National Committee." He looks up at them. SIMONS Isn't that what you'd expect them to say? WOODWARD Absolutely. ROSENFELD So? WOODWARD (he's got something and he knows it) I never asked them about Watergate. I only said what were Hunt's duties at the White House. They volunteered that he was innocent when nobody asked was he guilty. ROSENFELD (to SIMONS) I think we got a White House consultant linked to the bugging. SIMONS (nods) Just be careful how you write it. CUT TO: WOODWARD TYPING LIKE MAD, makes a mistake, corrects it, types on muttering to himself, and-- CUT TO: ROSENFELD IN HIS OFFICE munching a handful of Maalox tablets and-- CUT TO: WOODWARD taking a sheet from his typewriter, hurrying off and-- CUT TO: ROSENFELD taking the sheet from WOODWARD-- WOODWARD Here's the first take-- ROSENFELD nods, shows him out and-- CUT TO: WOODWARD BACK AT HIS MACHINE typing faster then before, makes another mistake, starts to correct it, glances around and-- CUT TO: ROSENFELD IN HIS OFFICE gesturing to somebody but not WOODWARD and-- CUT TO: WOODWARD watching as BERNSTEIN appears in view from behind the wide pillar by WOODWARD's desk, heads toward ROSENFELD's office. WOODWARD shrugs, goes back to his typing, makes a typo immediately, glances over toward ROSENFELD's office, freezes as we-- CUT TO: ROSENFELD handing some papers to BERNSTEIN. They look, from this distance, suspiciously like WOODWARD's story. CUT TO: BERNSTEIN hurrying out of ROSENFELD's office, and-- CUT TO: WOODWARD watching BERNSTEIN until he disappears out of sight behind the pillar. WOODWARD hesitates, finally goes back to his typing, makes another mistake, fixes it, makes still another, his temper is shortly to make itself known-- CUT TO: ROSENFELD as WOODWARD hands him another sheet of paper. WOODWARD This is all of it, Harry. ROSENFELD NODS, takes it, immediately starts to read as we-- CUT TO: WOODWARD AT HIS DESK watching as ROSENFELD gestures again. There is a pause. Then BERNSTEIN appears from behind the pillar and-- CUT TO: ROSENFELD handing BERNSTEIN another sheet of paper. BERSTEIN nods, takes it, walks back toward his desk, disappears behind the pillar again. WOODWARD is starting to steam. Now-- CUT TO: BERNSTEIN AT HIS DESK typing magnificently, his hands rising and falling like Rubinstein's. Behind him is the pillar and for a moment there is nothing--then, very slowly, a figure peers out from behind the pillar--it is WOODWARD. He watches. BERNSTEIN continues to type, then after a moment, rests, thinks, shifts around in his chair and as his glance starts toward the pillar-- CUT TO: THE PILLAR. WOODWARD is gone. CUT TO: BERNSTEIN typing madly away. THE PILLAR. WOODWARD is visible again, eyes very bright... now-- CUT TO: BERNSTEIN finishing typing, his hands moving majestically. WOODWARD comes up behind him, stands looking a second. Then-- WOODWARD We have to talk. BERNSTEIN nods, grabs the papers both that he's been typing and that he's been copying from. And as he rises-- PAN TO: WOODWARD AND BERNSTEIN walking silently out of the newsroom then turning left down a darker corridor, passing bulletin boards and wall lockers and it's all nice and quiet as they amble on, nodding to the few people they pass on their way and after a while they turn right and enter the coffee lounge which is empty; the walls are lined with Norman Rockwell reproductions and various kinds of vending machines are visible, selling coffee or milk or fruit or sandwiches and there are some plastic tables and chairs and the minute they are alone, the silence ends. WOODWARD What the hell were you doing rewriting my story-- BERNSTEIN --I sure couldn't hurt it, could I?-- WOODWARD --it was fine the way it was-- BERNSTEIN --it was bullshit the way it was-- WOODWARD --I have to stand here and listen to the staff correspondent from Virginia?-- BERNSTEIN (a sore subject) --what have you been here, nine months?--I been in this business since I was sixteen-- WOODWARD --and you've had some fucking meteoric rise, that's for sure--by the time you turn forty you might be the head of the Montana bureau-- BERNSTEIN --you only got the job because both you and Bradlee went to Yale-- WOODWARD --Bradlee went to Harvard-- BERNSTEIN --they're all the same, all those Ivy League places--they teach you about striped ties and suddenly you're smart-- WOODWARD --I'm smart enough to know my story was solid-- BERNSTEIN --mine's better-- WOODWARD --no way-- BERNSTEIN (handing them over) --read 'em both and you'll see-- And as WOODWARD glances at the two stories-- CUT TO: BERNSTEIN watching. Now-- CUT TO: WOODWARD. He glances from one story to the other. Then, disconsolately-- WOODWARD ...crap... And he sinks down in a chair. BERNSTEIN Is mine better? WOODWARD nods. WOODWARD (handing the stories back) What is it about my writing that's so rotten? BERNSTEIN (as he exits) Mainly it has to do with your choice of words. And as he goes, leaving WOODWARD just sitting there-- CUT TO: BERSTEIN, re-entering the newsroom, returning to his desk. He starts to insert some papers into his typewriter, hesitates, lights a cigarette. He inhales, as, behind him, WOODWARD briefly is visible going to his desk behind the pillar. Finally BERNSTEIN inserts the paper, starts to type as WOODWARD (V.O.) (from behind the pillar) Carl? BERNSTEIN (turns) Yeah? WOODWARD (pushing his chair briefly into view) Fuck you, Carl. And as he rolls forward again, out of sight-- CUT TO: RICHARD NIXON ON THE TUBE. (It's the June 22 Press Conference.) He talks on about something, it doesn't matter exactly what here, the point is, it should include that strange smile of his that kept appearing when the man should not have been smiling. Hints of pressure maybe, that's all, and once it's established-- PULL BACK TO REVEAL: WOODWARD sitting alone, gloomily staring at the set. We're in the Post Cafeteria, it's the next morning, and the place is pretty much empty. He sips the coffee, it tastes rotten. BERNSTEIN moves up behind him, carrying a cup of coffee of his own. He stands by WOODWARD briefly. BERNSTEIN You heard? (WOODWARD glances up) They put us both on the break-in thing. Simons liked the way we worked together. (WOODWARD nods, BERNSTEIN sits down) Listen, I'm sorry I said your story was bullshit. WOODWARD It's OK; I'm sorry I called you a failure. BERNSTEIN Forget it, the main thing-- (stops) --did you call me a failure? WOODWARD I was sure trying. CUT TO: WOODWARD, BERNSTEIN, AND NIXON. The way it's shot, it's almost as if they're watching each other; NIXON staring out from the TV set, answering questions. WOODWARD and BERNSTEIN sip coffee. We don't know yet--or better, they don't know it yet, but these are our adversaries. CUT TO: WOODWARD AND BERNSTEIN, without NIXON now. They sit at the table. Occasionally, NIXON is audible in the background. WOODWARD All right, what do we know? BERNSTEIN Let me lay a little theory on you-- WOODWARD (cutting him off) --I'm not interested in theory. What do we know? For example, Hunt's disappeared. BERNSTEIN Well, Barker tried to get blueprints of the Miami Convention Center and the air-conditioning system. WOODWARD And McCord was carrying an application for college press credentials for the Democratic convention. (to BERNSTEIN) The Times has got to be full of it-- it can't be crazy Cubans. BERNSTEIN What, though? (points to Nixon) It can't be the Republicans--he'd never allow something as stupid as this, not when he's gonna slaughter McGovern anyway. WOODWARD Right. Nixon didn't get where he got by being dumb-- (stops abruptly) --listen, that was a Watergate question-- CUT TO: NIXON ON THE TUBE. Serious now. NIXON The White House has had no involvement whatever in this particular incident. CUT TO: WOODWARD AND BERNSTEIN staring at the set thinking... CUT TO: WOODWARD AND BERNSTEIN walking toward BERSTEIN'S desk. WOODWARD Hey? BERNSTEIN Hmm. WOODWARD What do you think he meant, this particular incident? Were there others? How would we find out? You know anyone important? BERNSTEIN (sits, shakes his head) I lived here all my life, I got a million contacts, but they're all bus boys and bellhops. The reporter KEN RINGLE at the next desk watches them a moment. Then-- RINGLE What do you need? BERNSTEIN Someone inside the White House would be nice. RINGLE (writes down phone number) Call her. She worked for Colson, if that's any help. As BERNSTEIN grabs for the phone-- CUT TO: A SECRETARIAL POOL IN A LARGE OFFICE. BERNSTEIN is talking off to one side with an attractive girl. GIRL Kenny's crazy, I never worked for Colson, I worked for an assistant. Colson was big on secrets anyway. Even if I had worked for him, I wouldn't have known anything. BERNSTEIN Nothing at all you can remember? SECRETARY (headshake) Sorry. (pause) Now if it was Hunt you were interested in-- BERNSTEIN --Howard Hunt? SECRETARY Sure. Him I liked, he was a very nice person. Secretive too, traveled all over, but a decent man. BERNSTEIN Any idea what he did? SECRETARY Oh, the scuttlebutt for awhile was he was investigating Kennedy-- BERNSTEIN --Teddy Kennedy? SECRETARY Sure. I remember seeing a book about Chappaquiddick on his desk and he was always getting material out of the White House Library and the Library of Congress and-- And as

walkie

How many times the word 'walkie' appears in the text?

All the President's Men Script at IMSDb. var _gaq = _gaq || []; _gaq.push(['_setAccount', 'UA-3785444-3']); _gaq.push(['_trackPageview']); (function() { var ga = document.createElement('script'); ga.type = 'text/javascript'; ga.async = true; ga.src = ('https:' == document.location.protocol ? 'https://ssl' : 'http://www') + '.google-analytics.com/ga.js'; var s = document.getElementsByTagName('script')[0]; s.parentNode.insertBefore(ga, s); })(); The Internet Movie Script Database (IMSDb) The web's largest movie script resource! Search IMSDb Alphabetical # A B C D E F G H I J K L M N O P Q R S T U V W X Y Z Genre Action Adventure Animation Comedy Crime Drama Family Fantasy Film-Noir Horror Musical Mystery Romance Sci-Fi Short Thriller War Western Sponsor TV Transcripts Futurama Seinfeld South Park Stargate SG-1 Lost The 4400 International French scripts Movie Software Rip from DVD Rip Blu-Ray Latest Comments Star Wars: Revenge of the Sith10/10 Star Wars: The Force Awakens10/10 Batman Begins9/10 Collateral10/10 Jackie Brown8/10 Movie Chat Message Yell ! ALL SCRIPTS ALL THE PRESIDENT'S MEN - by William Goldman if (window!= top) top.location.href=location.href // --> "ALL THE PRESIDENT'S MEN" by William Goldman Based on the novel "All The President's Men" by Carl Bernstein and Bob Woodward Pre-rehearsal version March, 1975 Start with as few credits as possible. When they're over-- FADE IN ON: A TINY BLACK PIECE OF TAPE. We see it in the center of the large, dimly lit screen. As the tape is pressed around a door-- BEGIN THE BREAK-IN SEQUENCE. It's a major piece of action, running maybe five minutes and it's all as detailed and accurate as we can make it, with as many "if only's" included as possible. ("If only" the tape had been attached up and down instead of around the door, Wills wouldn't have spotted it and alerted the police; "if only" the first police car called had gone to investigate, Baldwin, watching from the Howard Johnson Motor Inn, would have seen their uniforms and radioed Hunt and Liddy in time for them to have gotten to the five burglars and then safely away.) The break-in ends when Leeper arrests the five men. He thought he only had one guy, so when ten hands were raised he was surprised. The hands are all encased in Playtex rubber surgical gloves. HOLD on the hands a moment; then-- GO TO: A DARK APARTMENT. The phone rings. WOODWARD fumbles for the receiver, turns on the bed light. He listens a moment. WOODWARD No, no trouble, Harry, be right down. (he hangs up) Son of a bitch. He lies back. The apartment is one room, a small terrace beyond. Not much of a place. WOODWARD lies still, staring at the ceiling. He blinks, blinks again. HOLD... CUT TO: THE ENORMOUS FIFTH FLOOR OF THE WASHINGTON POST. It looks, early of a Saturday morning, pretty deserted. Those reporters that are around are young, bright, and presently involved in nothing more taxing than drinking coffee and thumbing through the papers. HARRY ROSENFELD surveys the scene from his office doorway as WOODWARD approaches, hangs his coat at his desk, not far from where ROSENFELD is standing. ROSENFELD Where's that cheery face we've come to know and love? WOODWARD You call me in on my day off because some idiots have broken into local Democratic Headquarters--tell me, Harry, why should I be smiling? ROSENFELD As usual, that keen mind of yours has pegged the situation perfectly. (chomps on some Maalox tablets) Except (a) it wasn't local Democratic Headquarters, it was National Democratic Headquarters-- (WOODWARD is surprised-- he hadn't known) --and (b) these weren't just any idiots, these were special idiots, seeing as when they were arrested at 2:30 this morning, they were all wearing business suits and Playtex gloves and were carrying-- (consults a piece of paper) --a walkie-talkie, forty rolls of film, cameras, lock picks, pen-sized tear gas guns, plus various bugging devices. (puts paper down) Not to mention over two thousand dollars, mostly in sequenced hundred dollar bills. WOODWARD Preliminary hearing at Superior Courthouse? ROSENFELD (nods) Two o'clock, work the phones 'til you go. CUT TO: THE CRIMINAL COURTS BUILDING. WOODWARD hurries along, goes inside as we CUT TO: A CORRIDOR INSIDE. WOODWARD comes down it, looks around, sees a door marked "Counsel's Offices" and heads toward it. Now-- CUT TO: A CLERK AT A DESK as WOODWARD comes up. Behind them, two lawyers are clearly angry about something, talking and gesticulating to each other. WOODWARD (to the COUNSEL'S CLERK) Could you give me the names of the lawyers for the men arrested in the Watergate. CLERK These two were appointed-- (indicates the angry men) --only now it turns out the burglars got their own counsel. (he starts to laugh) FIRST ANGRY LAWYER (to CLERK) When you gonna stop thinking it's so funny. SECOND ANGRY LAWYER (To CLERK) We wouldda done a terrific job protecting those guys. (neither lawyer, by the way, is Clarence Darrow) FIRST ANGRY LAWYER You think we're not as good as some hotshot fancy lawyer?-- CUT TO: THE COURTROOM and business is booming. Muggers, pimp, hookers, their families and friends. In the scene that follows, a constant counterpoint is what's going on up at the front as an endless succession of petty criminals caught the previous night, the aforementioned muggers, pimps, and hookers, are shuttled in, given a quick appearance before a JUDGE who sets bond, and then shuttled out. In the audience, one man stands out--DOUGLAS CADDY. He is extremely well-dressed and obviously successful. Beside him sits another smaller man, who is unshaven and squints. WOODWARD moves in, sits alongside CADDY. WOODWARD Mr. Caddy? My name's Bob Woodward, I'm from the Post and I wanted to ask about how you happened to come on this case-- CADDY --I'm not here. WOODWARD (nods) OK. He takes out a small notebook, writes, muttering aloud as he does. WOODWARD Douglas Caddy, the attorney of record, when questioned about his presence in the courtroom, denied he was in the courtroom, "I'm not here," Mr. Caddy said. CADDY (impatiently) Clearly, I am here, but only as an individual, I'm not the attorney of record. (indicating unshaven man) Mr. Rafferty has that position. Whatever you want, you'll have to get from him, I have nothing more to say. And as he gets up, walks off-- CUT TO: THE WATER FOUNTAIN IN THE CORRIDOR. There is a small line. CADDY waits at the end of it. WOODWARD (moving in behind him) Mr. Rafferty was very helpful. Four Cuban-Americans and this other man, James McCord. CADDY Look, I told you inside-- WOODWARD --you have nothing more to say, I understand that. CADDY turns away; WOODWARD goes right on. WOODWARD What I don't understand is how you got here. CADDY I assure you, there's nothing mysterious involved. WOODWARD Probably you're right, but a little while ago, I was talking to a couple of lawyers who'd been assigned to represent the burglars. CADDY So? WOODWARD Well, they never would have been assigned if anyone had known the burglars had arranged for their own counsel. And that could only mean the burglars didn't arrange for their own counsel--they never even made a phone call. (looks at CADDY) So if they didn't ask for you to be here, how did you know to come? Without a word, CADDY turns, leaves the line without getting a drink. Silently, WOODWARD watches. Now-- CUT TO: CADDY seated as before beside RAFFERTY. WOODWARD's voice come from behind him, and as CADDY turns, WOODWARD is seated one row back. WOODWARD Did you know to come because one of the other men involved in the break- in called you? CADDY (turning) There is no reason to assume other people were involved. WOODWARD Your clients were arrested with a walkie-talkie; they didn't need that to talk among themselves. CADDY looks at WOODWARD, turns back. CADDY (turning back) They are not my clients. WOODWARD You're a lawyer and you're here-- CADDY --I met one of the defendants, Mr. Barker, at a social occasion once-- (stops himself) --I have nothing more to say. WOODWARD (leaning forward as CADDY turns away again) A Miami social occasion? (explaining) Mr. Rafferty told me the Cubans were from Miami. CADDY (sighing) Barker's wife called me at three this morning; her husband apparently had told her to call if he hadn't called her by then. WOODWARD It was really nice of you to come, since you'd only met him once. CADDY Are you implying you don't believe me? WOODWARD I have nothing more to say. CADDY You don't mind getting on people's nerves, do you? WOODWARD considers this a moment. Then-- WOODWARD Nope. And on that word-- CUT TO: THE COURTROOM as without warning, it quiets. There is suddenly a tremendous air of expectancy, you can feel it. Now we see why as five men in dark business suits are led in; they've been stripped of belts, ties, and shoelaces. McCord is taller than the others. They stand, facing the JUDGE, backs to the audience. WOODWARD sits watching as the proceedings start, but it's hard to hear. He concentrates as the JUDGE starts speaking. JUDGE Will you please state your professions. The five men do not move or reply. Then, after a long pause, Barker says-- BARKER Anti-Communists. JUDGE Anti-Communists? (perplexed) That, sir, is not your average occupation. WOODWARD starts moving forward now, down an aisle, moving past kids and whores and all the rest, trying to hear what the hell's going on. At the front of the spectator's section is a fence-like wooden barricade about three feet high. As he approaches it-- The JUDGE indicates the bald burglar. JUDGE Your name, please. MCCORD James McCord. JUDGE Will you step forward, sir. (MCCORD obeys) WOODWARD at the bench is leaning forward, trying to hear but it's hard. JUDGE And what is your occupation, Mr. McCord? MCCORD (softly) Security consultant. JUDGE Where? MCCORD (softer) Government. Recently retired. JUDGE Where in government? MCCORD (we can't really make this out) ...Central... Intelligence... Agency... JUDGE (he can't either) Where? MCCORD (clearing his throat) The C.I.A. And on these words, ZOOM TO: CLOSE UP--WOODWARD leaning over the fence practically falling over it in a desperate straining effort to catch what's going on. WOODWARD (stunned) Holy shit. Now from the courtroom-- CUT TO: THOUSANDS AND THOUSANDS OF WASHINGTON POSTS. We are at the end of the press run, the papers are all assembled and being cabled and sent off by machine to various places. As the papers continue to roll past-- A UNION TYPE EMPLOYEE grabs a paper, looks at the front page. The Watergate story, headlined whatever it was headlined, is visible. The byline was by Alfred E. Lewis. The union type Post employee glances at the article-- UNION POST EMPLOYEE (reading half-aloud) "Five men, one of whom said he is a former employee..." (stops reading, gives a shrug) Schmucks. And he turns happily to the sports section-- CUT TO: A CLOSE UP OF HUNDRED DOLLAR BILLS. It's new money and looks as if it's been recently ironed. Someone is going through the cash, making a quick count. During this-- FIRST VOICE (V.O.) Hurry it, huh, Bachinski? BACHINSKI You said I could look at it-- PULL BACK TO REVEAL We're in a room in a police station and two men are present. One, a COP, is nervous as hell and constantly aware of the door. The other, BACHINSKI, is taking hurried notes in a reporter's type notebook as he examines the evidence. COP --I said look, not memorize-- BACHINSKI --almost done, give it a rest, all right... (and he looks at an address book, he stops) CUT TO: THE ADDRESS BOOK. Beside the name "Howard E. Hunt" is the notation "W.House." Now, BACHINSKI hurriedly opens the other book to the letter "H" and there is the same name, "Howard E. Hunt" and beside it, the letters, "W.H." COP (V.O.) What'd you find? BACHINSKI (V.O.) Beats me. These notebooks belonged to Cuban guys? COP (V.O.) S'right. BACHINSKI (V.O.) It's gotta mean either White House or whore house, one or the other. We HOLD on the HUNT name, and the address notations. Then-- CUT TO: WOODWARD'S APARTMENT - NIGHT. The phone rings, waking him. He fumbles for the phone and the light, finally gets them both. WOODWARD Bachinski? (reaches for a notebook) What?--hold it-- (gets it open, starts to write) --OK, go on, go on... CUT TO: A BOX OF MAALOX TABLETS. ROSENFELD is opening them, we're in his office, WOODWARD sits across the desk, holding the notebook we saw him writing in. ROSENFELD ...go on, go on... WOODWARD That's everything Bachinski had, I think it's worth following up. ROSENFELD Don't know; who the hell's Howard Hunt? (crunches tablets) It's probably nothing but check it out. Just go easy, it could be crazy Cubans. HOWARD SIMONS sticks his head in the office. SIMONS Anything? ROSENFELD Woodward's onto a new wrinkle with the break-in thing--absolute page one stuff-- SIMONS --in other words, you got nothing, you're thumbsucking. ROSENFELD (shrugs) Could develop. SIMONS Let me see what you get, but don't jump--The New York Times thinks it's crazy Cubans. He moves on. ROSENFELD turns quickly to WOODWARD. ROSENFELD OK, get on this W.House guy and do a better job then you did on McCord. WOODWARD I did all right on McCord. ROSENFELD Then how come the Associated Press were the ones found out that Mr. McCord is security coordinator for the Committee to Re-elect the President, otherwise known as CREEP? WOODWARD (getting it straight) The head of security for the reelection of a Republican President got caught bugging the national offices of the Democrats? What the hell does that mean? ROSENFELD (hasn't the foggiest) Mr. John Mitchell, the head of CREEP, says it means nothing. (reads) "...This man and the other people involved were not operating on either our behalf or with our consent. These is no place in our campaign or in the electoral process for this type of activity, and we will not forget it or condone it." WOODWARD (getting up) You can't believe that. ROSENFELD As a rough rule of thumb, as far as I can throw Bronco Nagurski, that's how much I trust John Mitchell... Now-- CUT TO: A MOON-FACED MAN RINGING A TRIANGLE. CUT TO: THE NEWSROOM as the triangle sound echoes. HOWARD SIMONS leaves large Managing Editor's office, walks past another office, knocks twice on the glass wall. Inside the Executive Editor's office, BEN BRADLEE sits. As SIMONS knocks, he turns, nods. He appears, for the moment, deep in thought. HARRY ROSENFELD on the opposite end of the room hurries out of his office, following a bunch of editors, all of them heading across the huge room. As he passes WOODWARD's desk ROSENFELD pauses. ROSENFELD What'd you get on W.House? WOODWARD (massaging his neck) Lotsa hints-- ROSENFELD (not happy) I can't sell hints to Simons-- (stops, looks at piece of yellow paper) --you called everyone you know? (WOODWARD makes a nod) Call someone you don't know. WOODWARD continues to rub his neck as ROSENFELD hurries off, all the editors still moving toward the place where the moon- faced man intermittently rings the triangle. WOODWARD picks up the sheet of yellow paper from his desk. Lined, legal-sized, it is crammed with names and numbers and addresses. They are in no neat order; looking at them it's almost like following a path; chicken tracks in ink. WOODWARD mutters "to hell with it" and reaches for a thick book, flips it open. NOW WE SEE THE BOOK: It's the Washington Phone Directory and we're in the W's. As WOODWARD's finger stops, we can see he's looking at the White HOuse entry number. There it is, just like your name and mine. Listed. Now WOODWARD starts to dial, visibly nervous, a fact he tries very hard to keep out of his voice tone. WHITE HOUSE OPERATOR (V.O.) White House. WOODWARD (casually) Howard Hunt, please. Throughout the following call, we stay on WOODWARD's face, hear the other voices. WHITE HOUSE OPERATOR (V.O.) Mr. Hunt does not answer. WOODWARD is delighted he's even there. WOODWARD Thanks, anyway-- And he's about to hang up, when-- WHITE HOUSE OPERATOR (V.O.) I'll bet he's in Mr. Colson's office. Let me connect you. SECRETARY (V.O.) Charles Colson's wire. WOODWARD (a little more excited) Howard Hunt, please. SECRETARY (V.O.) Mr. Hunt isn't here just now. WOODWARD Thanks, anyway. And he's about to hang up again when-- SECRETARY (V.O.) Have you tried Mullen and Company Public Relations? He works at Mullen and Company Public Relations as a writer. The number is 555-1313. I'm sorry I couldn't be more helpful. WOODWARD Listen, forget it. He hangs up, sits there. His hands are a little twitchy... HOLD. Now-- CUT TO: ROSENFELD hurrying (he always hurries) toward his office. WOODWARD, looking for something in his desk throughout this scene, speaks to him. WOODWARD Who's Charles Colson? ROSENFELD (stops dead) I would liken your query to being in Russia half a century ago and asking someone, "I understand who Lenin is and Trotsky I got too, but who's this yokel Stalin?" WOODWARD Who's Colson, Harry? ROSENFELD The most powerful man in America is President Nixon, probably you've heard his name. WOODWARD, unfazed by anything, continues to open drawers, close them, as ROSENFELD rolls on. ROSENFELD The second most powerful man is Robert Haldeman. Just below him are a trio: Mr. Erlichman is Haldeman's friend, and they protect the President from everybody which is why they are referred to as either The German Shepherds or the Berlin Wall. Mr. Mitchell we've already discussed. Mr. Colson is the President's special counsel. WOODWARD (rising) Thanks, Harry. (looks at ROSENFELD) Know anything about Colson? ROSENFELD Just that on his office wall there's a cartoon with a caption reading, "When you've got them by the balls, their hearts and minds will follow." WOODWARD nods, heads back toward the files as we CUT TO: WOODWARD AT HIS DESK dialing the phone. He's got the Colson file spread out now, and we see pictures of the man and articles the Post had done on him. But basically what we see is WOODWARD plugging away on the goddamn phone and you'd think his finger would fall off from all the dialing and you know his voice is tiring as this montage goes on, you can hear it grow raspy. But a lot of what a reporter does he does on the phone, and that's what we're compressing here. The dialing never stops, the voices are continuous. WOODWARD Hello, I'm Bob Woodward of the Washing Post and... (beat) Mullen and Company Public Relations? Could you tell me when you expect Mr. Hunt? (surprised) He is? HUNT (V.O.) Howard Hunt here. WOODWARD Hi, I'm Bob Woodward of the Post and-- HUNT (V.O.) (impatient) --yes, yes, what is it? WOODWARD I was just kind of wondering why your name and phone number were in the address books of two of the men arrested at Watergate? HUNT (V.O.) (blind panic) Good God! And he bangs the phone down sharply-- --more dialing SOUNDS. Now snatches of conversation-- WOODWARD I'm sorry to bother you, Mr. Bennett, but we're doing some investigating of one of your employees, Howard Hunt. BENNETT (V.O.) Well, if you've been doing some investigating then obviously it's no secret to you that Howard was with the C.I.A. WOODWARD (he hadn't known) No secret at all. More dialing. Then-- WOODWARD (tired, voice deeper) Hello, C.I.A. This is R.W. Woodward, of the Washington Post--get me Personnel-- Dialing again. WOODWARD's voice is showing genuine fatigue. WOODWARD Hi, I'm Bob Woodward of the Washington Post--and--what's that?--you've never heard of me?--I can't help that--you don't believe I'm with the Post?-- what do you want me to do, Madam, shout "extra--extra"? There is the SOUND of the phone being slammed down in his ear. Hard. Now-- CUT TO: ROSENFELD AND SIMONS approaching WOODWARD who is working at his desk. He has put in a lot of hours on this and looks it. ROSENFELD Whaddya got, whaddya got? WOODWARD Hunt is Colson's man-- (to SIMONS, explaining) --that's Charles Colson, Nixon's special counsel-- (SIMONS almost says something, decides against it) --they both went to Brown University-- (consulting his notes) --Hunt worked for the C.I.A. till '70, and this is on deep background, the FBI thinks he's involved with the break-in. SIMONS What else have you got? WOODWARD According to White House personnel, Hunt definitely works there as a consultant for Colson. But when I called the White House Press office, they said he hadn't worked there for three months. Then the P.R. guy said the weirdest thing to me. (reading) "I am convinced that neither Mr. Colson nor anyone else at the White House had any knowledge of, or participation in, this deplorable incident at the Democratic National Committee." He looks up at them. SIMONS Isn't that what you'd expect them to say? WOODWARD Absolutely. ROSENFELD So? WOODWARD (he's got something and he knows it) I never asked them about Watergate. I only said what were Hunt's duties at the White House. They volunteered that he was innocent when nobody asked was he guilty. ROSENFELD (to SIMONS) I think we got a White House consultant linked to the bugging. SIMONS (nods) Just be careful how you write it. CUT TO: WOODWARD TYPING LIKE MAD, makes a mistake, corrects it, types on muttering to himself, and-- CUT TO: ROSENFELD IN HIS OFFICE munching a handful of Maalox tablets and-- CUT TO: WOODWARD taking a sheet from his typewriter, hurrying off and-- CUT TO: ROSENFELD taking the sheet from WOODWARD-- WOODWARD Here's the first take-- ROSENFELD nods, shows him out and-- CUT TO: WOODWARD BACK AT HIS MACHINE typing faster then before, makes another mistake, starts to correct it, glances around and-- CUT TO: ROSENFELD IN HIS OFFICE gesturing to somebody but not WOODWARD and-- CUT TO: WOODWARD watching as BERNSTEIN appears in view from behind the wide pillar by WOODWARD's desk, heads toward ROSENFELD's office. WOODWARD shrugs, goes back to his typing, makes a typo immediately, glances over toward ROSENFELD's office, freezes as we-- CUT TO: ROSENFELD handing some papers to BERNSTEIN. They look, from this distance, suspiciously like WOODWARD's story. CUT TO: BERNSTEIN hurrying out of ROSENFELD's office, and-- CUT TO: WOODWARD watching BERNSTEIN until he disappears out of sight behind the pillar. WOODWARD hesitates, finally goes back to his typing, makes another mistake, fixes it, makes still another, his temper is shortly to make itself known-- CUT TO: ROSENFELD as WOODWARD hands him another sheet of paper. WOODWARD This is all of it, Harry. ROSENFELD NODS, takes it, immediately starts to read as we-- CUT TO: WOODWARD AT HIS DESK watching as ROSENFELD gestures again. There is a pause. Then BERNSTEIN appears from behind the pillar and-- CUT TO: ROSENFELD handing BERNSTEIN another sheet of paper. BERSTEIN nods, takes it, walks back toward his desk, disappears behind the pillar again. WOODWARD is starting to steam. Now-- CUT TO: BERNSTEIN AT HIS DESK typing magnificently, his hands rising and falling like Rubinstein's. Behind him is the pillar and for a moment there is nothing--then, very slowly, a figure peers out from behind the pillar--it is WOODWARD. He watches. BERNSTEIN continues to type, then after a moment, rests, thinks, shifts around in his chair and as his glance starts toward the pillar-- CUT TO: THE PILLAR. WOODWARD is gone. CUT TO: BERNSTEIN typing madly away. THE PILLAR. WOODWARD is visible again, eyes very bright... now-- CUT TO: BERNSTEIN finishing typing, his hands moving majestically. WOODWARD comes up behind him, stands looking a second. Then-- WOODWARD We have to talk. BERNSTEIN nods, grabs the papers both that he's been typing and that he's been copying from. And as he rises-- PAN TO: WOODWARD AND BERNSTEIN walking silently out of the newsroom then turning left down a darker corridor, passing bulletin boards and wall lockers and it's all nice and quiet as they amble on, nodding to the few people they pass on their way and after a while they turn right and enter the coffee lounge which is empty; the walls are lined with Norman Rockwell reproductions and various kinds of vending machines are visible, selling coffee or milk or fruit or sandwiches and there are some plastic tables and chairs and the minute they are alone, the silence ends. WOODWARD What the hell were you doing rewriting my story-- BERNSTEIN --I sure couldn't hurt it, could I?-- WOODWARD --it was fine the way it was-- BERNSTEIN --it was bullshit the way it was-- WOODWARD --I have to stand here and listen to the staff correspondent from Virginia?-- BERNSTEIN (a sore subject) --what have you been here, nine months?--I been in this business since I was sixteen-- WOODWARD --and you've had some fucking meteoric rise, that's for sure--by the time you turn forty you might be the head of the Montana bureau-- BERNSTEIN --you only got the job because both you and Bradlee went to Yale-- WOODWARD --Bradlee went to Harvard-- BERNSTEIN --they're all the same, all those Ivy League places--they teach you about striped ties and suddenly you're smart-- WOODWARD --I'm smart enough to know my story was solid-- BERNSTEIN --mine's better-- WOODWARD --no way-- BERNSTEIN (handing them over) --read 'em both and you'll see-- And as WOODWARD glances at the two stories-- CUT TO: BERNSTEIN watching. Now-- CUT TO: WOODWARD. He glances from one story to the other. Then, disconsolately-- WOODWARD ...crap... And he sinks down in a chair. BERNSTEIN Is mine better? WOODWARD nods. WOODWARD (handing the stories back) What is it about my writing that's so rotten? BERNSTEIN (as he exits) Mainly it has to do with your choice of words. And as he goes, leaving WOODWARD just sitting there-- CUT TO: BERSTEIN, re-entering the newsroom, returning to his desk. He starts to insert some papers into his typewriter, hesitates, lights a cigarette. He inhales, as, behind him, WOODWARD briefly is visible going to his desk behind the pillar. Finally BERNSTEIN inserts the paper, starts to type as WOODWARD (V.O.) (from behind the pillar) Carl? BERNSTEIN (turns) Yeah? WOODWARD (pushing his chair briefly into view) Fuck you, Carl. And as he rolls forward again, out of sight-- CUT TO: RICHARD NIXON ON THE TUBE. (It's the June 22 Press Conference.) He talks on about something, it doesn't matter exactly what here, the point is, it should include that strange smile of his that kept appearing when the man should not have been smiling. Hints of pressure maybe, that's all, and once it's established-- PULL BACK TO REVEAL: WOODWARD sitting alone, gloomily staring at the set. We're in the Post Cafeteria, it's the next morning, and the place is pretty much empty. He sips the coffee, it tastes rotten. BERNSTEIN moves up behind him, carrying a cup of coffee of his own. He stands by WOODWARD briefly. BERNSTEIN You heard? (WOODWARD glances up) They put us both on the break-in thing. Simons liked the way we worked together. (WOODWARD nods, BERNSTEIN sits down) Listen, I'm sorry I said your story was bullshit. WOODWARD It's OK; I'm sorry I called you a failure. BERNSTEIN Forget it, the main thing-- (stops) --did you call me a failure? WOODWARD I was sure trying. CUT TO: WOODWARD, BERNSTEIN, AND NIXON. The way it's shot, it's almost as if they're watching each other; NIXON staring out from the TV set, answering questions. WOODWARD and BERNSTEIN sip coffee. We don't know yet--or better, they don't know it yet, but these are our adversaries. CUT TO: WOODWARD AND BERNSTEIN, without NIXON now. They sit at the table. Occasionally, NIXON is audible in the background. WOODWARD All right, what do we know? BERNSTEIN Let me lay a little theory on you-- WOODWARD (cutting him off) --I'm not interested in theory. What do we know? For example, Hunt's disappeared. BERNSTEIN Well, Barker tried to get blueprints of the Miami Convention Center and the air-conditioning system. WOODWARD And McCord was carrying an application for college press credentials for the Democratic convention. (to BERNSTEIN) The Times has got to be full of it-- it can't be crazy Cubans. BERNSTEIN What, though? (points to Nixon) It can't be the Republicans--he'd never allow something as stupid as this, not when he's gonna slaughter McGovern anyway. WOODWARD Right. Nixon didn't get where he got by being dumb-- (stops abruptly) --listen, that was a Watergate question-- CUT TO: NIXON ON THE TUBE. Serious now. NIXON The White House has had no involvement whatever in this particular incident. CUT TO: WOODWARD AND BERNSTEIN staring at the set thinking... CUT TO: WOODWARD AND BERNSTEIN walking toward BERSTEIN'S desk. WOODWARD Hey? BERNSTEIN Hmm. WOODWARD What do you think he meant, this particular incident? Were there others? How would we find out? You know anyone important? BERNSTEIN (sits, shakes his head) I lived here all my life, I got a million contacts, but they're all bus boys and bellhops. The reporter KEN RINGLE at the next desk watches them a moment. Then-- RINGLE What do you need? BERNSTEIN Someone inside the White House would be nice. RINGLE (writes down phone number) Call her. She worked for Colson, if that's any help. As BERNSTEIN grabs for the phone-- CUT TO: A SECRETARIAL POOL IN A LARGE OFFICE. BERNSTEIN is talking off to one side with an attractive girl. GIRL Kenny's crazy, I never worked for Colson, I worked for an assistant. Colson was big on secrets anyway. Even if I had worked for him, I wouldn't have known anything. BERNSTEIN Nothing at all you can remember? SECRETARY (headshake) Sorry. (pause) Now if it was Hunt you were interested in-- BERNSTEIN --Howard Hunt? SECRETARY Sure. Him I liked, he was a very nice person. Secretive too, traveled all over, but a decent man. BERNSTEIN Any idea what he did? SECRETARY Oh, the scuttlebutt for awhile was he was investigating Kennedy-- BERNSTEIN --Teddy Kennedy? SECRETARY Sure. I remember seeing a book about Chappaquiddick on his desk and he was always getting material out of the White House Library and the Library of Congress and-- And as

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All the President's Men Script at IMSDb. var _gaq = _gaq || []; _gaq.push(['_setAccount', 'UA-3785444-3']); _gaq.push(['_trackPageview']); (function() { var ga = document.createElement('script'); ga.type = 'text/javascript'; ga.async = true; ga.src = ('https:' == document.location.protocol ? 'https://ssl' : 'http://www') + '.google-analytics.com/ga.js'; var s = document.getElementsByTagName('script')[0]; s.parentNode.insertBefore(ga, s); })(); The Internet Movie Script Database (IMSDb) The web's largest movie script resource! Search IMSDb Alphabetical # A B C D E F G H I J K L M N O P Q R S T U V W X Y Z Genre Action Adventure Animation Comedy Crime Drama Family Fantasy Film-Noir Horror Musical Mystery Romance Sci-Fi Short Thriller War Western Sponsor TV Transcripts Futurama Seinfeld South Park Stargate SG-1 Lost The 4400 International French scripts Movie Software Rip from DVD Rip Blu-Ray Latest Comments Star Wars: Revenge of the Sith10/10 Star Wars: The Force Awakens10/10 Batman Begins9/10 Collateral10/10 Jackie Brown8/10 Movie Chat Message Yell ! ALL SCRIPTS ALL THE PRESIDENT'S MEN - by William Goldman if (window!= top) top.location.href=location.href // --> "ALL THE PRESIDENT'S MEN" by William Goldman Based on the novel "All The President's Men" by Carl Bernstein and Bob Woodward Pre-rehearsal version March, 1975 Start with as few credits as possible. When they're over-- FADE IN ON: A TINY BLACK PIECE OF TAPE. We see it in the center of the large, dimly lit screen. As the tape is pressed around a door-- BEGIN THE BREAK-IN SEQUENCE. It's a major piece of action, running maybe five minutes and it's all as detailed and accurate as we can make it, with as many "if only's" included as possible. ("If only" the tape had been attached up and down instead of around the door, Wills wouldn't have spotted it and alerted the police; "if only" the first police car called had gone to investigate, Baldwin, watching from the Howard Johnson Motor Inn, would have seen their uniforms and radioed Hunt and Liddy in time for them to have gotten to the five burglars and then safely away.) The break-in ends when Leeper arrests the five men. He thought he only had one guy, so when ten hands were raised he was surprised. The hands are all encased in Playtex rubber surgical gloves. HOLD on the hands a moment; then-- GO TO: A DARK APARTMENT. The phone rings. WOODWARD fumbles for the receiver, turns on the bed light. He listens a moment. WOODWARD No, no trouble, Harry, be right down. (he hangs up) Son of a bitch. He lies back. The apartment is one room, a small terrace beyond. Not much of a place. WOODWARD lies still, staring at the ceiling. He blinks, blinks again. HOLD... CUT TO: THE ENORMOUS FIFTH FLOOR OF THE WASHINGTON POST. It looks, early of a Saturday morning, pretty deserted. Those reporters that are around are young, bright, and presently involved in nothing more taxing than drinking coffee and thumbing through the papers. HARRY ROSENFELD surveys the scene from his office doorway as WOODWARD approaches, hangs his coat at his desk, not far from where ROSENFELD is standing. ROSENFELD Where's that cheery face we've come to know and love? WOODWARD You call me in on my day off because some idiots have broken into local Democratic Headquarters--tell me, Harry, why should I be smiling? ROSENFELD As usual, that keen mind of yours has pegged the situation perfectly. (chomps on some Maalox tablets) Except (a) it wasn't local Democratic Headquarters, it was National Democratic Headquarters-- (WOODWARD is surprised-- he hadn't known) --and (b) these weren't just any idiots, these were special idiots, seeing as when they were arrested at 2:30 this morning, they were all wearing business suits and Playtex gloves and were carrying-- (consults a piece of paper) --a walkie-talkie, forty rolls of film, cameras, lock picks, pen-sized tear gas guns, plus various bugging devices. (puts paper down) Not to mention over two thousand dollars, mostly in sequenced hundred dollar bills. WOODWARD Preliminary hearing at Superior Courthouse? ROSENFELD (nods) Two o'clock, work the phones 'til you go. CUT TO: THE CRIMINAL COURTS BUILDING. WOODWARD hurries along, goes inside as we CUT TO: A CORRIDOR INSIDE. WOODWARD comes down it, looks around, sees a door marked "Counsel's Offices" and heads toward it. Now-- CUT TO: A CLERK AT A DESK as WOODWARD comes up. Behind them, two lawyers are clearly angry about something, talking and gesticulating to each other. WOODWARD (to the COUNSEL'S CLERK) Could you give me the names of the lawyers for the men arrested in the Watergate. CLERK These two were appointed-- (indicates the angry men) --only now it turns out the burglars got their own counsel. (he starts to laugh) FIRST ANGRY LAWYER (to CLERK) When you gonna stop thinking it's so funny. SECOND ANGRY LAWYER (To CLERK) We wouldda done a terrific job protecting those guys. (neither lawyer, by the way, is Clarence Darrow) FIRST ANGRY LAWYER You think we're not as good as some hotshot fancy lawyer?-- CUT TO: THE COURTROOM and business is booming. Muggers, pimp, hookers, their families and friends. In the scene that follows, a constant counterpoint is what's going on up at the front as an endless succession of petty criminals caught the previous night, the aforementioned muggers, pimps, and hookers, are shuttled in, given a quick appearance before a JUDGE who sets bond, and then shuttled out. In the audience, one man stands out--DOUGLAS CADDY. He is extremely well-dressed and obviously successful. Beside him sits another smaller man, who is unshaven and squints. WOODWARD moves in, sits alongside CADDY. WOODWARD Mr. Caddy? My name's Bob Woodward, I'm from the Post and I wanted to ask about how you happened to come on this case-- CADDY --I'm not here. WOODWARD (nods) OK. He takes out a small notebook, writes, muttering aloud as he does. WOODWARD Douglas Caddy, the attorney of record, when questioned about his presence in the courtroom, denied he was in the courtroom, "I'm not here," Mr. Caddy said. CADDY (impatiently) Clearly, I am here, but only as an individual, I'm not the attorney of record. (indicating unshaven man) Mr. Rafferty has that position. Whatever you want, you'll have to get from him, I have nothing more to say. And as he gets up, walks off-- CUT TO: THE WATER FOUNTAIN IN THE CORRIDOR. There is a small line. CADDY waits at the end of it. WOODWARD (moving in behind him) Mr. Rafferty was very helpful. Four Cuban-Americans and this other man, James McCord. CADDY Look, I told you inside-- WOODWARD --you have nothing more to say, I understand that. CADDY turns away; WOODWARD goes right on. WOODWARD What I don't understand is how you got here. CADDY I assure you, there's nothing mysterious involved. WOODWARD Probably you're right, but a little while ago, I was talking to a couple of lawyers who'd been assigned to represent the burglars. CADDY So? WOODWARD Well, they never would have been assigned if anyone had known the burglars had arranged for their own counsel. And that could only mean the burglars didn't arrange for their own counsel--they never even made a phone call. (looks at CADDY) So if they didn't ask for you to be here, how did you know to come? Without a word, CADDY turns, leaves the line without getting a drink. Silently, WOODWARD watches. Now-- CUT TO: CADDY seated as before beside RAFFERTY. WOODWARD's voice come from behind him, and as CADDY turns, WOODWARD is seated one row back. WOODWARD Did you know to come because one of the other men involved in the break- in called you? CADDY (turning) There is no reason to assume other people were involved. WOODWARD Your clients were arrested with a walkie-talkie; they didn't need that to talk among themselves. CADDY looks at WOODWARD, turns back. CADDY (turning back) They are not my clients. WOODWARD You're a lawyer and you're here-- CADDY --I met one of the defendants, Mr. Barker, at a social occasion once-- (stops himself) --I have nothing more to say. WOODWARD (leaning forward as CADDY turns away again) A Miami social occasion? (explaining) Mr. Rafferty told me the Cubans were from Miami. CADDY (sighing) Barker's wife called me at three this morning; her husband apparently had told her to call if he hadn't called her by then. WOODWARD It was really nice of you to come, since you'd only met him once. CADDY Are you implying you don't believe me? WOODWARD I have nothing more to say. CADDY You don't mind getting on people's nerves, do you? WOODWARD considers this a moment. Then-- WOODWARD Nope. And on that word-- CUT TO: THE COURTROOM as without warning, it quiets. There is suddenly a tremendous air of expectancy, you can feel it. Now we see why as five men in dark business suits are led in; they've been stripped of belts, ties, and shoelaces. McCord is taller than the others. They stand, facing the JUDGE, backs to the audience. WOODWARD sits watching as the proceedings start, but it's hard to hear. He concentrates as the JUDGE starts speaking. JUDGE Will you please state your professions. The five men do not move or reply. Then, after a long pause, Barker says-- BARKER Anti-Communists. JUDGE Anti-Communists? (perplexed) That, sir, is not your average occupation. WOODWARD starts moving forward now, down an aisle, moving past kids and whores and all the rest, trying to hear what the hell's going on. At the front of the spectator's section is a fence-like wooden barricade about three feet high. As he approaches it-- The JUDGE indicates the bald burglar. JUDGE Your name, please. MCCORD James McCord. JUDGE Will you step forward, sir. (MCCORD obeys) WOODWARD at the bench is leaning forward, trying to hear but it's hard. JUDGE And what is your occupation, Mr. McCord? MCCORD (softly) Security consultant. JUDGE Where? MCCORD (softer) Government. Recently retired. JUDGE Where in government? MCCORD (we can't really make this out) ...Central... Intelligence... Agency... JUDGE (he can't either) Where? MCCORD (clearing his throat) The C.I.A. And on these words, ZOOM TO: CLOSE UP--WOODWARD leaning over the fence practically falling over it in a desperate straining effort to catch what's going on. WOODWARD (stunned) Holy shit. Now from the courtroom-- CUT TO: THOUSANDS AND THOUSANDS OF WASHINGTON POSTS. We are at the end of the press run, the papers are all assembled and being cabled and sent off by machine to various places. As the papers continue to roll past-- A UNION TYPE EMPLOYEE grabs a paper, looks at the front page. The Watergate story, headlined whatever it was headlined, is visible. The byline was by Alfred E. Lewis. The union type Post employee glances at the article-- UNION POST EMPLOYEE (reading half-aloud) "Five men, one of whom said he is a former employee..." (stops reading, gives a shrug) Schmucks. And he turns happily to the sports section-- CUT TO: A CLOSE UP OF HUNDRED DOLLAR BILLS. It's new money and looks as if it's been recently ironed. Someone is going through the cash, making a quick count. During this-- FIRST VOICE (V.O.) Hurry it, huh, Bachinski? BACHINSKI You said I could look at it-- PULL BACK TO REVEAL We're in a room in a police station and two men are present. One, a COP, is nervous as hell and constantly aware of the door. The other, BACHINSKI, is taking hurried notes in a reporter's type notebook as he examines the evidence. COP --I said look, not memorize-- BACHINSKI --almost done, give it a rest, all right... (and he looks at an address book, he stops) CUT TO: THE ADDRESS BOOK. Beside the name "Howard E. Hunt" is the notation "W.House." Now, BACHINSKI hurriedly opens the other book to the letter "H" and there is the same name, "Howard E. Hunt" and beside it, the letters, "W.H." COP (V.O.) What'd you find? BACHINSKI (V.O.) Beats me. These notebooks belonged to Cuban guys? COP (V.O.) S'right. BACHINSKI (V.O.) It's gotta mean either White House or whore house, one or the other. We HOLD on the HUNT name, and the address notations. Then-- CUT TO: WOODWARD'S APARTMENT - NIGHT. The phone rings, waking him. He fumbles for the phone and the light, finally gets them both. WOODWARD Bachinski? (reaches for a notebook) What?--hold it-- (gets it open, starts to write) --OK, go on, go on... CUT TO: A BOX OF MAALOX TABLETS. ROSENFELD is opening them, we're in his office, WOODWARD sits across the desk, holding the notebook we saw him writing in. ROSENFELD ...go on, go on... WOODWARD That's everything Bachinski had, I think it's worth following up. ROSENFELD Don't know; who the hell's Howard Hunt? (crunches tablets) It's probably nothing but check it out. Just go easy, it could be crazy Cubans. HOWARD SIMONS sticks his head in the office. SIMONS Anything? ROSENFELD Woodward's onto a new wrinkle with the break-in thing--absolute page one stuff-- SIMONS --in other words, you got nothing, you're thumbsucking. ROSENFELD (shrugs) Could develop. SIMONS Let me see what you get, but don't jump--The New York Times thinks it's crazy Cubans. He moves on. ROSENFELD turns quickly to WOODWARD. ROSENFELD OK, get on this W.House guy and do a better job then you did on McCord. WOODWARD I did all right on McCord. ROSENFELD Then how come the Associated Press were the ones found out that Mr. McCord is security coordinator for the Committee to Re-elect the President, otherwise known as CREEP? WOODWARD (getting it straight) The head of security for the reelection of a Republican President got caught bugging the national offices of the Democrats? What the hell does that mean? ROSENFELD (hasn't the foggiest) Mr. John Mitchell, the head of CREEP, says it means nothing. (reads) "...This man and the other people involved were not operating on either our behalf or with our consent. These is no place in our campaign or in the electoral process for this type of activity, and we will not forget it or condone it." WOODWARD (getting up) You can't believe that. ROSENFELD As a rough rule of thumb, as far as I can throw Bronco Nagurski, that's how much I trust John Mitchell... Now-- CUT TO: A MOON-FACED MAN RINGING A TRIANGLE. CUT TO: THE NEWSROOM as the triangle sound echoes. HOWARD SIMONS leaves large Managing Editor's office, walks past another office, knocks twice on the glass wall. Inside the Executive Editor's office, BEN BRADLEE sits. As SIMONS knocks, he turns, nods. He appears, for the moment, deep in thought. HARRY ROSENFELD on the opposite end of the room hurries out of his office, following a bunch of editors, all of them heading across the huge room. As he passes WOODWARD's desk ROSENFELD pauses. ROSENFELD What'd you get on W.House? WOODWARD (massaging his neck) Lotsa hints-- ROSENFELD (not happy) I can't sell hints to Simons-- (stops, looks at piece of yellow paper) --you called everyone you know? (WOODWARD makes a nod) Call someone you don't know. WOODWARD continues to rub his neck as ROSENFELD hurries off, all the editors still moving toward the place where the moon- faced man intermittently rings the triangle. WOODWARD picks up the sheet of yellow paper from his desk. Lined, legal-sized, it is crammed with names and numbers and addresses. They are in no neat order; looking at them it's almost like following a path; chicken tracks in ink. WOODWARD mutters "to hell with it" and reaches for a thick book, flips it open. NOW WE SEE THE BOOK: It's the Washington Phone Directory and we're in the W's. As WOODWARD's finger stops, we can see he's looking at the White HOuse entry number. There it is, just like your name and mine. Listed. Now WOODWARD starts to dial, visibly nervous, a fact he tries very hard to keep out of his voice tone. WHITE HOUSE OPERATOR (V.O.) White House. WOODWARD (casually) Howard Hunt, please. Throughout the following call, we stay on WOODWARD's face, hear the other voices. WHITE HOUSE OPERATOR (V.O.) Mr. Hunt does not answer. WOODWARD is delighted he's even there. WOODWARD Thanks, anyway-- And he's about to hang up, when-- WHITE HOUSE OPERATOR (V.O.) I'll bet he's in Mr. Colson's office. Let me connect you. SECRETARY (V.O.) Charles Colson's wire. WOODWARD (a little more excited) Howard Hunt, please. SECRETARY (V.O.) Mr. Hunt isn't here just now. WOODWARD Thanks, anyway. And he's about to hang up again when-- SECRETARY (V.O.) Have you tried Mullen and Company Public Relations? He works at Mullen and Company Public Relations as a writer. The number is 555-1313. I'm sorry I couldn't be more helpful. WOODWARD Listen, forget it. He hangs up, sits there. His hands are a little twitchy... HOLD. Now-- CUT TO: ROSENFELD hurrying (he always hurries) toward his office. WOODWARD, looking for something in his desk throughout this scene, speaks to him. WOODWARD Who's Charles Colson? ROSENFELD (stops dead) I would liken your query to being in Russia half a century ago and asking someone, "I understand who Lenin is and Trotsky I got too, but who's this yokel Stalin?" WOODWARD Who's Colson, Harry? ROSENFELD The most powerful man in America is President Nixon, probably you've heard his name. WOODWARD, unfazed by anything, continues to open drawers, close them, as ROSENFELD rolls on. ROSENFELD The second most powerful man is Robert Haldeman. Just below him are a trio: Mr. Erlichman is Haldeman's friend, and they protect the President from everybody which is why they are referred to as either The German Shepherds or the Berlin Wall. Mr. Mitchell we've already discussed. Mr. Colson is the President's special counsel. WOODWARD (rising) Thanks, Harry. (looks at ROSENFELD) Know anything about Colson? ROSENFELD Just that on his office wall there's a cartoon with a caption reading, "When you've got them by the balls, their hearts and minds will follow." WOODWARD nods, heads back toward the files as we CUT TO: WOODWARD AT HIS DESK dialing the phone. He's got the Colson file spread out now, and we see pictures of the man and articles the Post had done on him. But basically what we see is WOODWARD plugging away on the goddamn phone and you'd think his finger would fall off from all the dialing and you know his voice is tiring as this montage goes on, you can hear it grow raspy. But a lot of what a reporter does he does on the phone, and that's what we're compressing here. The dialing never stops, the voices are continuous. WOODWARD Hello, I'm Bob Woodward of the Washing Post and... (beat) Mullen and Company Public Relations? Could you tell me when you expect Mr. Hunt? (surprised) He is? HUNT (V.O.) Howard Hunt here. WOODWARD Hi, I'm Bob Woodward of the Post and-- HUNT (V.O.) (impatient) --yes, yes, what is it? WOODWARD I was just kind of wondering why your name and phone number were in the address books of two of the men arrested at Watergate? HUNT (V.O.) (blind panic) Good God! And he bangs the phone down sharply-- --more dialing SOUNDS. Now snatches of conversation-- WOODWARD I'm sorry to bother you, Mr. Bennett, but we're doing some investigating of one of your employees, Howard Hunt. BENNETT (V.O.) Well, if you've been doing some investigating then obviously it's no secret to you that Howard was with the C.I.A. WOODWARD (he hadn't known) No secret at all. More dialing. Then-- WOODWARD (tired, voice deeper) Hello, C.I.A. This is R.W. Woodward, of the Washington Post--get me Personnel-- Dialing again. WOODWARD's voice is showing genuine fatigue. WOODWARD Hi, I'm Bob Woodward of the Washington Post--and--what's that?--you've never heard of me?--I can't help that--you don't believe I'm with the Post?-- what do you want me to do, Madam, shout "extra--extra"? There is the SOUND of the phone being slammed down in his ear. Hard. Now-- CUT TO: ROSENFELD AND SIMONS approaching WOODWARD who is working at his desk. He has put in a lot of hours on this and looks it. ROSENFELD Whaddya got, whaddya got? WOODWARD Hunt is Colson's man-- (to SIMONS, explaining) --that's Charles Colson, Nixon's special counsel-- (SIMONS almost says something, decides against it) --they both went to Brown University-- (consulting his notes) --Hunt worked for the C.I.A. till '70, and this is on deep background, the FBI thinks he's involved with the break-in. SIMONS What else have you got? WOODWARD According to White House personnel, Hunt definitely works there as a consultant for Colson. But when I called the White House Press office, they said he hadn't worked there for three months. Then the P.R. guy said the weirdest thing to me. (reading) "I am convinced that neither Mr. Colson nor anyone else at the White House had any knowledge of, or participation in, this deplorable incident at the Democratic National Committee." He looks up at them. SIMONS Isn't that what you'd expect them to say? WOODWARD Absolutely. ROSENFELD So? WOODWARD (he's got something and he knows it) I never asked them about Watergate. I only said what were Hunt's duties at the White House. They volunteered that he was innocent when nobody asked was he guilty. ROSENFELD (to SIMONS) I think we got a White House consultant linked to the bugging. SIMONS (nods) Just be careful how you write it. CUT TO: WOODWARD TYPING LIKE MAD, makes a mistake, corrects it, types on muttering to himself, and-- CUT TO: ROSENFELD IN HIS OFFICE munching a handful of Maalox tablets and-- CUT TO: WOODWARD taking a sheet from his typewriter, hurrying off and-- CUT TO: ROSENFELD taking the sheet from WOODWARD-- WOODWARD Here's the first take-- ROSENFELD nods, shows him out and-- CUT TO: WOODWARD BACK AT HIS MACHINE typing faster then before, makes another mistake, starts to correct it, glances around and-- CUT TO: ROSENFELD IN HIS OFFICE gesturing to somebody but not WOODWARD and-- CUT TO: WOODWARD watching as BERNSTEIN appears in view from behind the wide pillar by WOODWARD's desk, heads toward ROSENFELD's office. WOODWARD shrugs, goes back to his typing, makes a typo immediately, glances over toward ROSENFELD's office, freezes as we-- CUT TO: ROSENFELD handing some papers to BERNSTEIN. They look, from this distance, suspiciously like WOODWARD's story. CUT TO: BERNSTEIN hurrying out of ROSENFELD's office, and-- CUT TO: WOODWARD watching BERNSTEIN until he disappears out of sight behind the pillar. WOODWARD hesitates, finally goes back to his typing, makes another mistake, fixes it, makes still another, his temper is shortly to make itself known-- CUT TO: ROSENFELD as WOODWARD hands him another sheet of paper. WOODWARD This is all of it, Harry. ROSENFELD NODS, takes it, immediately starts to read as we-- CUT TO: WOODWARD AT HIS DESK watching as ROSENFELD gestures again. There is a pause. Then BERNSTEIN appears from behind the pillar and-- CUT TO: ROSENFELD handing BERNSTEIN another sheet of paper. BERSTEIN nods, takes it, walks back toward his desk, disappears behind the pillar again. WOODWARD is starting to steam. Now-- CUT TO: BERNSTEIN AT HIS DESK typing magnificently, his hands rising and falling like Rubinstein's. Behind him is the pillar and for a moment there is nothing--then, very slowly, a figure peers out from behind the pillar--it is WOODWARD. He watches. BERNSTEIN continues to type, then after a moment, rests, thinks, shifts around in his chair and as his glance starts toward the pillar-- CUT TO: THE PILLAR. WOODWARD is gone. CUT TO: BERNSTEIN typing madly away. THE PILLAR. WOODWARD is visible again, eyes very bright... now-- CUT TO: BERNSTEIN finishing typing, his hands moving majestically. WOODWARD comes up behind him, stands looking a second. Then-- WOODWARD We have to talk. BERNSTEIN nods, grabs the papers both that he's been typing and that he's been copying from. And as he rises-- PAN TO: WOODWARD AND BERNSTEIN walking silently out of the newsroom then turning left down a darker corridor, passing bulletin boards and wall lockers and it's all nice and quiet as they amble on, nodding to the few people they pass on their way and after a while they turn right and enter the coffee lounge which is empty; the walls are lined with Norman Rockwell reproductions and various kinds of vending machines are visible, selling coffee or milk or fruit or sandwiches and there are some plastic tables and chairs and the minute they are alone, the silence ends. WOODWARD What the hell were you doing rewriting my story-- BERNSTEIN --I sure couldn't hurt it, could I?-- WOODWARD --it was fine the way it was-- BERNSTEIN --it was bullshit the way it was-- WOODWARD --I have to stand here and listen to the staff correspondent from Virginia?-- BERNSTEIN (a sore subject) --what have you been here, nine months?--I been in this business since I was sixteen-- WOODWARD --and you've had some fucking meteoric rise, that's for sure--by the time you turn forty you might be the head of the Montana bureau-- BERNSTEIN --you only got the job because both you and Bradlee went to Yale-- WOODWARD --Bradlee went to Harvard-- BERNSTEIN --they're all the same, all those Ivy League places--they teach you about striped ties and suddenly you're smart-- WOODWARD --I'm smart enough to know my story was solid-- BERNSTEIN --mine's better-- WOODWARD --no way-- BERNSTEIN (handing them over) --read 'em both and you'll see-- And as WOODWARD glances at the two stories-- CUT TO: BERNSTEIN watching. Now-- CUT TO: WOODWARD. He glances from one story to the other. Then, disconsolately-- WOODWARD ...crap... And he sinks down in a chair. BERNSTEIN Is mine better? WOODWARD nods. WOODWARD (handing the stories back) What is it about my writing that's so rotten? BERNSTEIN (as he exits) Mainly it has to do with your choice of words. And as he goes, leaving WOODWARD just sitting there-- CUT TO: BERSTEIN, re-entering the newsroom, returning to his desk. He starts to insert some papers into his typewriter, hesitates, lights a cigarette. He inhales, as, behind him, WOODWARD briefly is visible going to his desk behind the pillar. Finally BERNSTEIN inserts the paper, starts to type as WOODWARD (V.O.) (from behind the pillar) Carl? BERNSTEIN (turns) Yeah? WOODWARD (pushing his chair briefly into view) Fuck you, Carl. And as he rolls forward again, out of sight-- CUT TO: RICHARD NIXON ON THE TUBE. (It's the June 22 Press Conference.) He talks on about something, it doesn't matter exactly what here, the point is, it should include that strange smile of his that kept appearing when the man should not have been smiling. Hints of pressure maybe, that's all, and once it's established-- PULL BACK TO REVEAL: WOODWARD sitting alone, gloomily staring at the set. We're in the Post Cafeteria, it's the next morning, and the place is pretty much empty. He sips the coffee, it tastes rotten. BERNSTEIN moves up behind him, carrying a cup of coffee of his own. He stands by WOODWARD briefly. BERNSTEIN You heard? (WOODWARD glances up) They put us both on the break-in thing. Simons liked the way we worked together. (WOODWARD nods, BERNSTEIN sits down) Listen, I'm sorry I said your story was bullshit. WOODWARD It's OK; I'm sorry I called you a failure. BERNSTEIN Forget it, the main thing-- (stops) --did you call me a failure? WOODWARD I was sure trying. CUT TO: WOODWARD, BERNSTEIN, AND NIXON. The way it's shot, it's almost as if they're watching each other; NIXON staring out from the TV set, answering questions. WOODWARD and BERNSTEIN sip coffee. We don't know yet--or better, they don't know it yet, but these are our adversaries. CUT TO: WOODWARD AND BERNSTEIN, without NIXON now. They sit at the table. Occasionally, NIXON is audible in the background. WOODWARD All right, what do we know? BERNSTEIN Let me lay a little theory on you-- WOODWARD (cutting him off) --I'm not interested in theory. What do we know? For example, Hunt's disappeared. BERNSTEIN Well, Barker tried to get blueprints of the Miami Convention Center and the air-conditioning system. WOODWARD And McCord was carrying an application for college press credentials for the Democratic convention. (to BERNSTEIN) The Times has got to be full of it-- it can't be crazy Cubans. BERNSTEIN What, though? (points to Nixon) It can't be the Republicans--he'd never allow something as stupid as this, not when he's gonna slaughter McGovern anyway. WOODWARD Right. Nixon didn't get where he got by being dumb-- (stops abruptly) --listen, that was a Watergate question-- CUT TO: NIXON ON THE TUBE. Serious now. NIXON The White House has had no involvement whatever in this particular incident. CUT TO: WOODWARD AND BERNSTEIN staring at the set thinking... CUT TO: WOODWARD AND BERNSTEIN walking toward BERSTEIN'S desk. WOODWARD Hey? BERNSTEIN Hmm. WOODWARD What do you think he meant, this particular incident? Were there others? How would we find out? You know anyone important? BERNSTEIN (sits, shakes his head) I lived here all my life, I got a million contacts, but they're all bus boys and bellhops. The reporter KEN RINGLE at the next desk watches them a moment. Then-- RINGLE What do you need? BERNSTEIN Someone inside the White House would be nice. RINGLE (writes down phone number) Call her. She worked for Colson, if that's any help. As BERNSTEIN grabs for the phone-- CUT TO: A SECRETARIAL POOL IN A LARGE OFFICE. BERNSTEIN is talking off to one side with an attractive girl. GIRL Kenny's crazy, I never worked for Colson, I worked for an assistant. Colson was big on secrets anyway. Even if I had worked for him, I wouldn't have known anything. BERNSTEIN Nothing at all you can remember? SECRETARY (headshake) Sorry. (pause) Now if it was Hunt you were interested in-- BERNSTEIN --Howard Hunt? SECRETARY Sure. Him I liked, he was a very nice person. Secretive too, traveled all over, but a decent man. BERNSTEIN Any idea what he did? SECRETARY Oh, the scuttlebutt for awhile was he was investigating Kennedy-- BERNSTEIN --Teddy Kennedy? SECRETARY Sure. I remember seeing a book about Chappaquiddick on his desk and he was always getting material out of the White House Library and the Library of Congress and-- And as

door

How many times the word 'door' appears in the text?

All the President's Men Script at IMSDb. var _gaq = _gaq || []; _gaq.push(['_setAccount', 'UA-3785444-3']); _gaq.push(['_trackPageview']); (function() { var ga = document.createElement('script'); ga.type = 'text/javascript'; ga.async = true; ga.src = ('https:' == document.location.protocol ? 'https://ssl' : 'http://www') + '.google-analytics.com/ga.js'; var s = document.getElementsByTagName('script')[0]; s.parentNode.insertBefore(ga, s); })(); The Internet Movie Script Database (IMSDb) The web's largest movie script resource! Search IMSDb Alphabetical # A B C D E F G H I J K L M N O P Q R S T U V W X Y Z Genre Action Adventure Animation Comedy Crime Drama Family Fantasy Film-Noir Horror Musical Mystery Romance Sci-Fi Short Thriller War Western Sponsor TV Transcripts Futurama Seinfeld South Park Stargate SG-1 Lost The 4400 International French scripts Movie Software Rip from DVD Rip Blu-Ray Latest Comments Star Wars: Revenge of the Sith10/10 Star Wars: The Force Awakens10/10 Batman Begins9/10 Collateral10/10 Jackie Brown8/10 Movie Chat Message Yell ! ALL SCRIPTS ALL THE PRESIDENT'S MEN - by William Goldman if (window!= top) top.location.href=location.href // --> "ALL THE PRESIDENT'S MEN" by William Goldman Based on the novel "All The President's Men" by Carl Bernstein and Bob Woodward Pre-rehearsal version March, 1975 Start with as few credits as possible. When they're over-- FADE IN ON: A TINY BLACK PIECE OF TAPE. We see it in the center of the large, dimly lit screen. As the tape is pressed around a door-- BEGIN THE BREAK-IN SEQUENCE. It's a major piece of action, running maybe five minutes and it's all as detailed and accurate as we can make it, with as many "if only's" included as possible. ("If only" the tape had been attached up and down instead of around the door, Wills wouldn't have spotted it and alerted the police; "if only" the first police car called had gone to investigate, Baldwin, watching from the Howard Johnson Motor Inn, would have seen their uniforms and radioed Hunt and Liddy in time for them to have gotten to the five burglars and then safely away.) The break-in ends when Leeper arrests the five men. He thought he only had one guy, so when ten hands were raised he was surprised. The hands are all encased in Playtex rubber surgical gloves. HOLD on the hands a moment; then-- GO TO: A DARK APARTMENT. The phone rings. WOODWARD fumbles for the receiver, turns on the bed light. He listens a moment. WOODWARD No, no trouble, Harry, be right down. (he hangs up) Son of a bitch. He lies back. The apartment is one room, a small terrace beyond. Not much of a place. WOODWARD lies still, staring at the ceiling. He blinks, blinks again. HOLD... CUT TO: THE ENORMOUS FIFTH FLOOR OF THE WASHINGTON POST. It looks, early of a Saturday morning, pretty deserted. Those reporters that are around are young, bright, and presently involved in nothing more taxing than drinking coffee and thumbing through the papers. HARRY ROSENFELD surveys the scene from his office doorway as WOODWARD approaches, hangs his coat at his desk, not far from where ROSENFELD is standing. ROSENFELD Where's that cheery face we've come to know and love? WOODWARD You call me in on my day off because some idiots have broken into local Democratic Headquarters--tell me, Harry, why should I be smiling? ROSENFELD As usual, that keen mind of yours has pegged the situation perfectly. (chomps on some Maalox tablets) Except (a) it wasn't local Democratic Headquarters, it was National Democratic Headquarters-- (WOODWARD is surprised-- he hadn't known) --and (b) these weren't just any idiots, these were special idiots, seeing as when they were arrested at 2:30 this morning, they were all wearing business suits and Playtex gloves and were carrying-- (consults a piece of paper) --a walkie-talkie, forty rolls of film, cameras, lock picks, pen-sized tear gas guns, plus various bugging devices. (puts paper down) Not to mention over two thousand dollars, mostly in sequenced hundred dollar bills. WOODWARD Preliminary hearing at Superior Courthouse? ROSENFELD (nods) Two o'clock, work the phones 'til you go. CUT TO: THE CRIMINAL COURTS BUILDING. WOODWARD hurries along, goes inside as we CUT TO: A CORRIDOR INSIDE. WOODWARD comes down it, looks around, sees a door marked "Counsel's Offices" and heads toward it. Now-- CUT TO: A CLERK AT A DESK as WOODWARD comes up. Behind them, two lawyers are clearly angry about something, talking and gesticulating to each other. WOODWARD (to the COUNSEL'S CLERK) Could you give me the names of the lawyers for the men arrested in the Watergate. CLERK These two were appointed-- (indicates the angry men) --only now it turns out the burglars got their own counsel. (he starts to laugh) FIRST ANGRY LAWYER (to CLERK) When you gonna stop thinking it's so funny. SECOND ANGRY LAWYER (To CLERK) We wouldda done a terrific job protecting those guys. (neither lawyer, by the way, is Clarence Darrow) FIRST ANGRY LAWYER You think we're not as good as some hotshot fancy lawyer?-- CUT TO: THE COURTROOM and business is booming. Muggers, pimp, hookers, their families and friends. In the scene that follows, a constant counterpoint is what's going on up at the front as an endless succession of petty criminals caught the previous night, the aforementioned muggers, pimps, and hookers, are shuttled in, given a quick appearance before a JUDGE who sets bond, and then shuttled out. In the audience, one man stands out--DOUGLAS CADDY. He is extremely well-dressed and obviously successful. Beside him sits another smaller man, who is unshaven and squints. WOODWARD moves in, sits alongside CADDY. WOODWARD Mr. Caddy? My name's Bob Woodward, I'm from the Post and I wanted to ask about how you happened to come on this case-- CADDY --I'm not here. WOODWARD (nods) OK. He takes out a small notebook, writes, muttering aloud as he does. WOODWARD Douglas Caddy, the attorney of record, when questioned about his presence in the courtroom, denied he was in the courtroom, "I'm not here," Mr. Caddy said. CADDY (impatiently) Clearly, I am here, but only as an individual, I'm not the attorney of record. (indicating unshaven man) Mr. Rafferty has that position. Whatever you want, you'll have to get from him, I have nothing more to say. And as he gets up, walks off-- CUT TO: THE WATER FOUNTAIN IN THE CORRIDOR. There is a small line. CADDY waits at the end of it. WOODWARD (moving in behind him) Mr. Rafferty was very helpful. Four Cuban-Americans and this other man, James McCord. CADDY Look, I told you inside-- WOODWARD --you have nothing more to say, I understand that. CADDY turns away; WOODWARD goes right on. WOODWARD What I don't understand is how you got here. CADDY I assure you, there's nothing mysterious involved. WOODWARD Probably you're right, but a little while ago, I was talking to a couple of lawyers who'd been assigned to represent the burglars. CADDY So? WOODWARD Well, they never would have been assigned if anyone had known the burglars had arranged for their own counsel. And that could only mean the burglars didn't arrange for their own counsel--they never even made a phone call. (looks at CADDY) So if they didn't ask for you to be here, how did you know to come? Without a word, CADDY turns, leaves the line without getting a drink. Silently, WOODWARD watches. Now-- CUT TO: CADDY seated as before beside RAFFERTY. WOODWARD's voice come from behind him, and as CADDY turns, WOODWARD is seated one row back. WOODWARD Did you know to come because one of the other men involved in the break- in called you? CADDY (turning) There is no reason to assume other people were involved. WOODWARD Your clients were arrested with a walkie-talkie; they didn't need that to talk among themselves. CADDY looks at WOODWARD, turns back. CADDY (turning back) They are not my clients. WOODWARD You're a lawyer and you're here-- CADDY --I met one of the defendants, Mr. Barker, at a social occasion once-- (stops himself) --I have nothing more to say. WOODWARD (leaning forward as CADDY turns away again) A Miami social occasion? (explaining) Mr. Rafferty told me the Cubans were from Miami. CADDY (sighing) Barker's wife called me at three this morning; her husband apparently had told her to call if he hadn't called her by then. WOODWARD It was really nice of you to come, since you'd only met him once. CADDY Are you implying you don't believe me? WOODWARD I have nothing more to say. CADDY You don't mind getting on people's nerves, do you? WOODWARD considers this a moment. Then-- WOODWARD Nope. And on that word-- CUT TO: THE COURTROOM as without warning, it quiets. There is suddenly a tremendous air of expectancy, you can feel it. Now we see why as five men in dark business suits are led in; they've been stripped of belts, ties, and shoelaces. McCord is taller than the others. They stand, facing the JUDGE, backs to the audience. WOODWARD sits watching as the proceedings start, but it's hard to hear. He concentrates as the JUDGE starts speaking. JUDGE Will you please state your professions. The five men do not move or reply. Then, after a long pause, Barker says-- BARKER Anti-Communists. JUDGE Anti-Communists? (perplexed) That, sir, is not your average occupation. WOODWARD starts moving forward now, down an aisle, moving past kids and whores and all the rest, trying to hear what the hell's going on. At the front of the spectator's section is a fence-like wooden barricade about three feet high. As he approaches it-- The JUDGE indicates the bald burglar. JUDGE Your name, please. MCCORD James McCord. JUDGE Will you step forward, sir. (MCCORD obeys) WOODWARD at the bench is leaning forward, trying to hear but it's hard. JUDGE And what is your occupation, Mr. McCord? MCCORD (softly) Security consultant. JUDGE Where? MCCORD (softer) Government. Recently retired. JUDGE Where in government? MCCORD (we can't really make this out) ...Central... Intelligence... Agency... JUDGE (he can't either) Where? MCCORD (clearing his throat) The C.I.A. And on these words, ZOOM TO: CLOSE UP--WOODWARD leaning over the fence practically falling over it in a desperate straining effort to catch what's going on. WOODWARD (stunned) Holy shit. Now from the courtroom-- CUT TO: THOUSANDS AND THOUSANDS OF WASHINGTON POSTS. We are at the end of the press run, the papers are all assembled and being cabled and sent off by machine to various places. As the papers continue to roll past-- A UNION TYPE EMPLOYEE grabs a paper, looks at the front page. The Watergate story, headlined whatever it was headlined, is visible. The byline was by Alfred E. Lewis. The union type Post employee glances at the article-- UNION POST EMPLOYEE (reading half-aloud) "Five men, one of whom said he is a former employee..." (stops reading, gives a shrug) Schmucks. And he turns happily to the sports section-- CUT TO: A CLOSE UP OF HUNDRED DOLLAR BILLS. It's new money and looks as if it's been recently ironed. Someone is going through the cash, making a quick count. During this-- FIRST VOICE (V.O.) Hurry it, huh, Bachinski? BACHINSKI You said I could look at it-- PULL BACK TO REVEAL We're in a room in a police station and two men are present. One, a COP, is nervous as hell and constantly aware of the door. The other, BACHINSKI, is taking hurried notes in a reporter's type notebook as he examines the evidence. COP --I said look, not memorize-- BACHINSKI --almost done, give it a rest, all right... (and he looks at an address book, he stops) CUT TO: THE ADDRESS BOOK. Beside the name "Howard E. Hunt" is the notation "W.House." Now, BACHINSKI hurriedly opens the other book to the letter "H" and there is the same name, "Howard E. Hunt" and beside it, the letters, "W.H." COP (V.O.) What'd you find? BACHINSKI (V.O.) Beats me. These notebooks belonged to Cuban guys? COP (V.O.) S'right. BACHINSKI (V.O.) It's gotta mean either White House or whore house, one or the other. We HOLD on the HUNT name, and the address notations. Then-- CUT TO: WOODWARD'S APARTMENT - NIGHT. The phone rings, waking him. He fumbles for the phone and the light, finally gets them both. WOODWARD Bachinski? (reaches for a notebook) What?--hold it-- (gets it open, starts to write) --OK, go on, go on... CUT TO: A BOX OF MAALOX TABLETS. ROSENFELD is opening them, we're in his office, WOODWARD sits across the desk, holding the notebook we saw him writing in. ROSENFELD ...go on, go on... WOODWARD That's everything Bachinski had, I think it's worth following up. ROSENFELD Don't know; who the hell's Howard Hunt? (crunches tablets) It's probably nothing but check it out. Just go easy, it could be crazy Cubans. HOWARD SIMONS sticks his head in the office. SIMONS Anything? ROSENFELD Woodward's onto a new wrinkle with the break-in thing--absolute page one stuff-- SIMONS --in other words, you got nothing, you're thumbsucking. ROSENFELD (shrugs) Could develop. SIMONS Let me see what you get, but don't jump--The New York Times thinks it's crazy Cubans. He moves on. ROSENFELD turns quickly to WOODWARD. ROSENFELD OK, get on this W.House guy and do a better job then you did on McCord. WOODWARD I did all right on McCord. ROSENFELD Then how come the Associated Press were the ones found out that Mr. McCord is security coordinator for the Committee to Re-elect the President, otherwise known as CREEP? WOODWARD (getting it straight) The head of security for the reelection of a Republican President got caught bugging the national offices of the Democrats? What the hell does that mean? ROSENFELD (hasn't the foggiest) Mr. John Mitchell, the head of CREEP, says it means nothing. (reads) "...This man and the other people involved were not operating on either our behalf or with our consent. These is no place in our campaign or in the electoral process for this type of activity, and we will not forget it or condone it." WOODWARD (getting up) You can't believe that. ROSENFELD As a rough rule of thumb, as far as I can throw Bronco Nagurski, that's how much I trust John Mitchell... Now-- CUT TO: A MOON-FACED MAN RINGING A TRIANGLE. CUT TO: THE NEWSROOM as the triangle sound echoes. HOWARD SIMONS leaves large Managing Editor's office, walks past another office, knocks twice on the glass wall. Inside the Executive Editor's office, BEN BRADLEE sits. As SIMONS knocks, he turns, nods. He appears, for the moment, deep in thought. HARRY ROSENFELD on the opposite end of the room hurries out of his office, following a bunch of editors, all of them heading across the huge room. As he passes WOODWARD's desk ROSENFELD pauses. ROSENFELD What'd you get on W.House? WOODWARD (massaging his neck) Lotsa hints-- ROSENFELD (not happy) I can't sell hints to Simons-- (stops, looks at piece of yellow paper) --you called everyone you know? (WOODWARD makes a nod) Call someone you don't know. WOODWARD continues to rub his neck as ROSENFELD hurries off, all the editors still moving toward the place where the moon- faced man intermittently rings the triangle. WOODWARD picks up the sheet of yellow paper from his desk. Lined, legal-sized, it is crammed with names and numbers and addresses. They are in no neat order; looking at them it's almost like following a path; chicken tracks in ink. WOODWARD mutters "to hell with it" and reaches for a thick book, flips it open. NOW WE SEE THE BOOK: It's the Washington Phone Directory and we're in the W's. As WOODWARD's finger stops, we can see he's looking at the White HOuse entry number. There it is, just like your name and mine. Listed. Now WOODWARD starts to dial, visibly nervous, a fact he tries very hard to keep out of his voice tone. WHITE HOUSE OPERATOR (V.O.) White House. WOODWARD (casually) Howard Hunt, please. Throughout the following call, we stay on WOODWARD's face, hear the other voices. WHITE HOUSE OPERATOR (V.O.) Mr. Hunt does not answer. WOODWARD is delighted he's even there. WOODWARD Thanks, anyway-- And he's about to hang up, when-- WHITE HOUSE OPERATOR (V.O.) I'll bet he's in Mr. Colson's office. Let me connect you. SECRETARY (V.O.) Charles Colson's wire. WOODWARD (a little more excited) Howard Hunt, please. SECRETARY (V.O.) Mr. Hunt isn't here just now. WOODWARD Thanks, anyway. And he's about to hang up again when-- SECRETARY (V.O.) Have you tried Mullen and Company Public Relations? He works at Mullen and Company Public Relations as a writer. The number is 555-1313. I'm sorry I couldn't be more helpful. WOODWARD Listen, forget it. He hangs up, sits there. His hands are a little twitchy... HOLD. Now-- CUT TO: ROSENFELD hurrying (he always hurries) toward his office. WOODWARD, looking for something in his desk throughout this scene, speaks to him. WOODWARD Who's Charles Colson? ROSENFELD (stops dead) I would liken your query to being in Russia half a century ago and asking someone, "I understand who Lenin is and Trotsky I got too, but who's this yokel Stalin?" WOODWARD Who's Colson, Harry? ROSENFELD The most powerful man in America is President Nixon, probably you've heard his name. WOODWARD, unfazed by anything, continues to open drawers, close them, as ROSENFELD rolls on. ROSENFELD The second most powerful man is Robert Haldeman. Just below him are a trio: Mr. Erlichman is Haldeman's friend, and they protect the President from everybody which is why they are referred to as either The German Shepherds or the Berlin Wall. Mr. Mitchell we've already discussed. Mr. Colson is the President's special counsel. WOODWARD (rising) Thanks, Harry. (looks at ROSENFELD) Know anything about Colson? ROSENFELD Just that on his office wall there's a cartoon with a caption reading, "When you've got them by the balls, their hearts and minds will follow." WOODWARD nods, heads back toward the files as we CUT TO: WOODWARD AT HIS DESK dialing the phone. He's got the Colson file spread out now, and we see pictures of the man and articles the Post had done on him. But basically what we see is WOODWARD plugging away on the goddamn phone and you'd think his finger would fall off from all the dialing and you know his voice is tiring as this montage goes on, you can hear it grow raspy. But a lot of what a reporter does he does on the phone, and that's what we're compressing here. The dialing never stops, the voices are continuous. WOODWARD Hello, I'm Bob Woodward of the Washing Post and... (beat) Mullen and Company Public Relations? Could you tell me when you expect Mr. Hunt? (surprised) He is? HUNT (V.O.) Howard Hunt here. WOODWARD Hi, I'm Bob Woodward of the Post and-- HUNT (V.O.) (impatient) --yes, yes, what is it? WOODWARD I was just kind of wondering why your name and phone number were in the address books of two of the men arrested at Watergate? HUNT (V.O.) (blind panic) Good God! And he bangs the phone down sharply-- --more dialing SOUNDS. Now snatches of conversation-- WOODWARD I'm sorry to bother you, Mr. Bennett, but we're doing some investigating of one of your employees, Howard Hunt. BENNETT (V.O.) Well, if you've been doing some investigating then obviously it's no secret to you that Howard was with the C.I.A. WOODWARD (he hadn't known) No secret at all. More dialing. Then-- WOODWARD (tired, voice deeper) Hello, C.I.A. This is R.W. Woodward, of the Washington Post--get me Personnel-- Dialing again. WOODWARD's voice is showing genuine fatigue. WOODWARD Hi, I'm Bob Woodward of the Washington Post--and--what's that?--you've never heard of me?--I can't help that--you don't believe I'm with the Post?-- what do you want me to do, Madam, shout "extra--extra"? There is the SOUND of the phone being slammed down in his ear. Hard. Now-- CUT TO: ROSENFELD AND SIMONS approaching WOODWARD who is working at his desk. He has put in a lot of hours on this and looks it. ROSENFELD Whaddya got, whaddya got? WOODWARD Hunt is Colson's man-- (to SIMONS, explaining) --that's Charles Colson, Nixon's special counsel-- (SIMONS almost says something, decides against it) --they both went to Brown University-- (consulting his notes) --Hunt worked for the C.I.A. till '70, and this is on deep background, the FBI thinks he's involved with the break-in. SIMONS What else have you got? WOODWARD According to White House personnel, Hunt definitely works there as a consultant for Colson. But when I called the White House Press office, they said he hadn't worked there for three months. Then the P.R. guy said the weirdest thing to me. (reading) "I am convinced that neither Mr. Colson nor anyone else at the White House had any knowledge of, or participation in, this deplorable incident at the Democratic National Committee." He looks up at them. SIMONS Isn't that what you'd expect them to say? WOODWARD Absolutely. ROSENFELD So? WOODWARD (he's got something and he knows it) I never asked them about Watergate. I only said what were Hunt's duties at the White House. They volunteered that he was innocent when nobody asked was he guilty. ROSENFELD (to SIMONS) I think we got a White House consultant linked to the bugging. SIMONS (nods) Just be careful how you write it. CUT TO: WOODWARD TYPING LIKE MAD, makes a mistake, corrects it, types on muttering to himself, and-- CUT TO: ROSENFELD IN HIS OFFICE munching a handful of Maalox tablets and-- CUT TO: WOODWARD taking a sheet from his typewriter, hurrying off and-- CUT TO: ROSENFELD taking the sheet from WOODWARD-- WOODWARD Here's the first take-- ROSENFELD nods, shows him out and-- CUT TO: WOODWARD BACK AT HIS MACHINE typing faster then before, makes another mistake, starts to correct it, glances around and-- CUT TO: ROSENFELD IN HIS OFFICE gesturing to somebody but not WOODWARD and-- CUT TO: WOODWARD watching as BERNSTEIN appears in view from behind the wide pillar by WOODWARD's desk, heads toward ROSENFELD's office. WOODWARD shrugs, goes back to his typing, makes a typo immediately, glances over toward ROSENFELD's office, freezes as we-- CUT TO: ROSENFELD handing some papers to BERNSTEIN. They look, from this distance, suspiciously like WOODWARD's story. CUT TO: BERNSTEIN hurrying out of ROSENFELD's office, and-- CUT TO: WOODWARD watching BERNSTEIN until he disappears out of sight behind the pillar. WOODWARD hesitates, finally goes back to his typing, makes another mistake, fixes it, makes still another, his temper is shortly to make itself known-- CUT TO: ROSENFELD as WOODWARD hands him another sheet of paper. WOODWARD This is all of it, Harry. ROSENFELD NODS, takes it, immediately starts to read as we-- CUT TO: WOODWARD AT HIS DESK watching as ROSENFELD gestures again. There is a pause. Then BERNSTEIN appears from behind the pillar and-- CUT TO: ROSENFELD handing BERNSTEIN another sheet of paper. BERSTEIN nods, takes it, walks back toward his desk, disappears behind the pillar again. WOODWARD is starting to steam. Now-- CUT TO: BERNSTEIN AT HIS DESK typing magnificently, his hands rising and falling like Rubinstein's. Behind him is the pillar and for a moment there is nothing--then, very slowly, a figure peers out from behind the pillar--it is WOODWARD. He watches. BERNSTEIN continues to type, then after a moment, rests, thinks, shifts around in his chair and as his glance starts toward the pillar-- CUT TO: THE PILLAR. WOODWARD is gone. CUT TO: BERNSTEIN typing madly away. THE PILLAR. WOODWARD is visible again, eyes very bright... now-- CUT TO: BERNSTEIN finishing typing, his hands moving majestically. WOODWARD comes up behind him, stands looking a second. Then-- WOODWARD We have to talk. BERNSTEIN nods, grabs the papers both that he's been typing and that he's been copying from. And as he rises-- PAN TO: WOODWARD AND BERNSTEIN walking silently out of the newsroom then turning left down a darker corridor, passing bulletin boards and wall lockers and it's all nice and quiet as they amble on, nodding to the few people they pass on their way and after a while they turn right and enter the coffee lounge which is empty; the walls are lined with Norman Rockwell reproductions and various kinds of vending machines are visible, selling coffee or milk or fruit or sandwiches and there are some plastic tables and chairs and the minute they are alone, the silence ends. WOODWARD What the hell were you doing rewriting my story-- BERNSTEIN --I sure couldn't hurt it, could I?-- WOODWARD --it was fine the way it was-- BERNSTEIN --it was bullshit the way it was-- WOODWARD --I have to stand here and listen to the staff correspondent from Virginia?-- BERNSTEIN (a sore subject) --what have you been here, nine months?--I been in this business since I was sixteen-- WOODWARD --and you've had some fucking meteoric rise, that's for sure--by the time you turn forty you might be the head of the Montana bureau-- BERNSTEIN --you only got the job because both you and Bradlee went to Yale-- WOODWARD --Bradlee went to Harvard-- BERNSTEIN --they're all the same, all those Ivy League places--they teach you about striped ties and suddenly you're smart-- WOODWARD --I'm smart enough to know my story was solid-- BERNSTEIN --mine's better-- WOODWARD --no way-- BERNSTEIN (handing them over) --read 'em both and you'll see-- And as WOODWARD glances at the two stories-- CUT TO: BERNSTEIN watching. Now-- CUT TO: WOODWARD. He glances from one story to the other. Then, disconsolately-- WOODWARD ...crap... And he sinks down in a chair. BERNSTEIN Is mine better? WOODWARD nods. WOODWARD (handing the stories back) What is it about my writing that's so rotten? BERNSTEIN (as he exits) Mainly it has to do with your choice of words. And as he goes, leaving WOODWARD just sitting there-- CUT TO: BERSTEIN, re-entering the newsroom, returning to his desk. He starts to insert some papers into his typewriter, hesitates, lights a cigarette. He inhales, as, behind him, WOODWARD briefly is visible going to his desk behind the pillar. Finally BERNSTEIN inserts the paper, starts to type as WOODWARD (V.O.) (from behind the pillar) Carl? BERNSTEIN (turns) Yeah? WOODWARD (pushing his chair briefly into view) Fuck you, Carl. And as he rolls forward again, out of sight-- CUT TO: RICHARD NIXON ON THE TUBE. (It's the June 22 Press Conference.) He talks on about something, it doesn't matter exactly what here, the point is, it should include that strange smile of his that kept appearing when the man should not have been smiling. Hints of pressure maybe, that's all, and once it's established-- PULL BACK TO REVEAL: WOODWARD sitting alone, gloomily staring at the set. We're in the Post Cafeteria, it's the next morning, and the place is pretty much empty. He sips the coffee, it tastes rotten. BERNSTEIN moves up behind him, carrying a cup of coffee of his own. He stands by WOODWARD briefly. BERNSTEIN You heard? (WOODWARD glances up) They put us both on the break-in thing. Simons liked the way we worked together. (WOODWARD nods, BERNSTEIN sits down) Listen, I'm sorry I said your story was bullshit. WOODWARD It's OK; I'm sorry I called you a failure. BERNSTEIN Forget it, the main thing-- (stops) --did you call me a failure? WOODWARD I was sure trying. CUT TO: WOODWARD, BERNSTEIN, AND NIXON. The way it's shot, it's almost as if they're watching each other; NIXON staring out from the TV set, answering questions. WOODWARD and BERNSTEIN sip coffee. We don't know yet--or better, they don't know it yet, but these are our adversaries. CUT TO: WOODWARD AND BERNSTEIN, without NIXON now. They sit at the table. Occasionally, NIXON is audible in the background. WOODWARD All right, what do we know? BERNSTEIN Let me lay a little theory on you-- WOODWARD (cutting him off) --I'm not interested in theory. What do we know? For example, Hunt's disappeared. BERNSTEIN Well, Barker tried to get blueprints of the Miami Convention Center and the air-conditioning system. WOODWARD And McCord was carrying an application for college press credentials for the Democratic convention. (to BERNSTEIN) The Times has got to be full of it-- it can't be crazy Cubans. BERNSTEIN What, though? (points to Nixon) It can't be the Republicans--he'd never allow something as stupid as this, not when he's gonna slaughter McGovern anyway. WOODWARD Right. Nixon didn't get where he got by being dumb-- (stops abruptly) --listen, that was a Watergate question-- CUT TO: NIXON ON THE TUBE. Serious now. NIXON The White House has had no involvement whatever in this particular incident. CUT TO: WOODWARD AND BERNSTEIN staring at the set thinking... CUT TO: WOODWARD AND BERNSTEIN walking toward BERSTEIN'S desk. WOODWARD Hey? BERNSTEIN Hmm. WOODWARD What do you think he meant, this particular incident? Were there others? How would we find out? You know anyone important? BERNSTEIN (sits, shakes his head) I lived here all my life, I got a million contacts, but they're all bus boys and bellhops. The reporter KEN RINGLE at the next desk watches them a moment. Then-- RINGLE What do you need? BERNSTEIN Someone inside the White House would be nice. RINGLE (writes down phone number) Call her. She worked for Colson, if that's any help. As BERNSTEIN grabs for the phone-- CUT TO: A SECRETARIAL POOL IN A LARGE OFFICE. BERNSTEIN is talking off to one side with an attractive girl. GIRL Kenny's crazy, I never worked for Colson, I worked for an assistant. Colson was big on secrets anyway. Even if I had worked for him, I wouldn't have known anything. BERNSTEIN Nothing at all you can remember? SECRETARY (headshake) Sorry. (pause) Now if it was Hunt you were interested in-- BERNSTEIN --Howard Hunt? SECRETARY Sure. Him I liked, he was a very nice person. Secretive too, traveled all over, but a decent man. BERNSTEIN Any idea what he did? SECRETARY Oh, the scuttlebutt for awhile was he was investigating Kennedy-- BERNSTEIN --Teddy Kennedy? SECRETARY Sure. I remember seeing a book about Chappaquiddick on his desk and he was always getting material out of the White House Library and the Library of Congress and-- And as

instead

How many times the word 'instead' appears in the text?

All the President's Men Script at IMSDb. var _gaq = _gaq || []; _gaq.push(['_setAccount', 'UA-3785444-3']); _gaq.push(['_trackPageview']); (function() { var ga = document.createElement('script'); ga.type = 'text/javascript'; ga.async = true; ga.src = ('https:' == document.location.protocol ? 'https://ssl' : 'http://www') + '.google-analytics.com/ga.js'; var s = document.getElementsByTagName('script')[0]; s.parentNode.insertBefore(ga, s); })(); The Internet Movie Script Database (IMSDb) The web's largest movie script resource! Search IMSDb Alphabetical # A B C D E F G H I J K L M N O P Q R S T U V W X Y Z Genre Action Adventure Animation Comedy Crime Drama Family Fantasy Film-Noir Horror Musical Mystery Romance Sci-Fi Short Thriller War Western Sponsor TV Transcripts Futurama Seinfeld South Park Stargate SG-1 Lost The 4400 International French scripts Movie Software Rip from DVD Rip Blu-Ray Latest Comments Star Wars: Revenge of the Sith10/10 Star Wars: The Force Awakens10/10 Batman Begins9/10 Collateral10/10 Jackie Brown8/10 Movie Chat Message Yell ! ALL SCRIPTS ALL THE PRESIDENT'S MEN - by William Goldman if (window!= top) top.location.href=location.href // --> "ALL THE PRESIDENT'S MEN" by William Goldman Based on the novel "All The President's Men" by Carl Bernstein and Bob Woodward Pre-rehearsal version March, 1975 Start with as few credits as possible. When they're over-- FADE IN ON: A TINY BLACK PIECE OF TAPE. We see it in the center of the large, dimly lit screen. As the tape is pressed around a door-- BEGIN THE BREAK-IN SEQUENCE. It's a major piece of action, running maybe five minutes and it's all as detailed and accurate as we can make it, with as many "if only's" included as possible. ("If only" the tape had been attached up and down instead of around the door, Wills wouldn't have spotted it and alerted the police; "if only" the first police car called had gone to investigate, Baldwin, watching from the Howard Johnson Motor Inn, would have seen their uniforms and radioed Hunt and Liddy in time for them to have gotten to the five burglars and then safely away.) The break-in ends when Leeper arrests the five men. He thought he only had one guy, so when ten hands were raised he was surprised. The hands are all encased in Playtex rubber surgical gloves. HOLD on the hands a moment; then-- GO TO: A DARK APARTMENT. The phone rings. WOODWARD fumbles for the receiver, turns on the bed light. He listens a moment. WOODWARD No, no trouble, Harry, be right down. (he hangs up) Son of a bitch. He lies back. The apartment is one room, a small terrace beyond. Not much of a place. WOODWARD lies still, staring at the ceiling. He blinks, blinks again. HOLD... CUT TO: THE ENORMOUS FIFTH FLOOR OF THE WASHINGTON POST. It looks, early of a Saturday morning, pretty deserted. Those reporters that are around are young, bright, and presently involved in nothing more taxing than drinking coffee and thumbing through the papers. HARRY ROSENFELD surveys the scene from his office doorway as WOODWARD approaches, hangs his coat at his desk, not far from where ROSENFELD is standing. ROSENFELD Where's that cheery face we've come to know and love? WOODWARD You call me in on my day off because some idiots have broken into local Democratic Headquarters--tell me, Harry, why should I be smiling? ROSENFELD As usual, that keen mind of yours has pegged the situation perfectly. (chomps on some Maalox tablets) Except (a) it wasn't local Democratic Headquarters, it was National Democratic Headquarters-- (WOODWARD is surprised-- he hadn't known) --and (b) these weren't just any idiots, these were special idiots, seeing as when they were arrested at 2:30 this morning, they were all wearing business suits and Playtex gloves and were carrying-- (consults a piece of paper) --a walkie-talkie, forty rolls of film, cameras, lock picks, pen-sized tear gas guns, plus various bugging devices. (puts paper down) Not to mention over two thousand dollars, mostly in sequenced hundred dollar bills. WOODWARD Preliminary hearing at Superior Courthouse? ROSENFELD (nods) Two o'clock, work the phones 'til you go. CUT TO: THE CRIMINAL COURTS BUILDING. WOODWARD hurries along, goes inside as we CUT TO: A CORRIDOR INSIDE. WOODWARD comes down it, looks around, sees a door marked "Counsel's Offices" and heads toward it. Now-- CUT TO: A CLERK AT A DESK as WOODWARD comes up. Behind them, two lawyers are clearly angry about something, talking and gesticulating to each other. WOODWARD (to the COUNSEL'S CLERK) Could you give me the names of the lawyers for the men arrested in the Watergate. CLERK These two were appointed-- (indicates the angry men) --only now it turns out the burglars got their own counsel. (he starts to laugh) FIRST ANGRY LAWYER (to CLERK) When you gonna stop thinking it's so funny. SECOND ANGRY LAWYER (To CLERK) We wouldda done a terrific job protecting those guys. (neither lawyer, by the way, is Clarence Darrow) FIRST ANGRY LAWYER You think we're not as good as some hotshot fancy lawyer?-- CUT TO: THE COURTROOM and business is booming. Muggers, pimp, hookers, their families and friends. In the scene that follows, a constant counterpoint is what's going on up at the front as an endless succession of petty criminals caught the previous night, the aforementioned muggers, pimps, and hookers, are shuttled in, given a quick appearance before a JUDGE who sets bond, and then shuttled out. In the audience, one man stands out--DOUGLAS CADDY. He is extremely well-dressed and obviously successful. Beside him sits another smaller man, who is unshaven and squints. WOODWARD moves in, sits alongside CADDY. WOODWARD Mr. Caddy? My name's Bob Woodward, I'm from the Post and I wanted to ask about how you happened to come on this case-- CADDY --I'm not here. WOODWARD (nods) OK. He takes out a small notebook, writes, muttering aloud as he does. WOODWARD Douglas Caddy, the attorney of record, when questioned about his presence in the courtroom, denied he was in the courtroom, "I'm not here," Mr. Caddy said. CADDY (impatiently) Clearly, I am here, but only as an individual, I'm not the attorney of record. (indicating unshaven man) Mr. Rafferty has that position. Whatever you want, you'll have to get from him, I have nothing more to say. And as he gets up, walks off-- CUT TO: THE WATER FOUNTAIN IN THE CORRIDOR. There is a small line. CADDY waits at the end of it. WOODWARD (moving in behind him) Mr. Rafferty was very helpful. Four Cuban-Americans and this other man, James McCord. CADDY Look, I told you inside-- WOODWARD --you have nothing more to say, I understand that. CADDY turns away; WOODWARD goes right on. WOODWARD What I don't understand is how you got here. CADDY I assure you, there's nothing mysterious involved. WOODWARD Probably you're right, but a little while ago, I was talking to a couple of lawyers who'd been assigned to represent the burglars. CADDY So? WOODWARD Well, they never would have been assigned if anyone had known the burglars had arranged for their own counsel. And that could only mean the burglars didn't arrange for their own counsel--they never even made a phone call. (looks at CADDY) So if they didn't ask for you to be here, how did you know to come? Without a word, CADDY turns, leaves the line without getting a drink. Silently, WOODWARD watches. Now-- CUT TO: CADDY seated as before beside RAFFERTY. WOODWARD's voice come from behind him, and as CADDY turns, WOODWARD is seated one row back. WOODWARD Did you know to come because one of the other men involved in the break- in called you? CADDY (turning) There is no reason to assume other people were involved. WOODWARD Your clients were arrested with a walkie-talkie; they didn't need that to talk among themselves. CADDY looks at WOODWARD, turns back. CADDY (turning back) They are not my clients. WOODWARD You're a lawyer and you're here-- CADDY --I met one of the defendants, Mr. Barker, at a social occasion once-- (stops himself) --I have nothing more to say. WOODWARD (leaning forward as CADDY turns away again) A Miami social occasion? (explaining) Mr. Rafferty told me the Cubans were from Miami. CADDY (sighing) Barker's wife called me at three this morning; her husband apparently had told her to call if he hadn't called her by then. WOODWARD It was really nice of you to come, since you'd only met him once. CADDY Are you implying you don't believe me? WOODWARD I have nothing more to say. CADDY You don't mind getting on people's nerves, do you? WOODWARD considers this a moment. Then-- WOODWARD Nope. And on that word-- CUT TO: THE COURTROOM as without warning, it quiets. There is suddenly a tremendous air of expectancy, you can feel it. Now we see why as five men in dark business suits are led in; they've been stripped of belts, ties, and shoelaces. McCord is taller than the others. They stand, facing the JUDGE, backs to the audience. WOODWARD sits watching as the proceedings start, but it's hard to hear. He concentrates as the JUDGE starts speaking. JUDGE Will you please state your professions. The five men do not move or reply. Then, after a long pause, Barker says-- BARKER Anti-Communists. JUDGE Anti-Communists? (perplexed) That, sir, is not your average occupation. WOODWARD starts moving forward now, down an aisle, moving past kids and whores and all the rest, trying to hear what the hell's going on. At the front of the spectator's section is a fence-like wooden barricade about three feet high. As he approaches it-- The JUDGE indicates the bald burglar. JUDGE Your name, please. MCCORD James McCord. JUDGE Will you step forward, sir. (MCCORD obeys) WOODWARD at the bench is leaning forward, trying to hear but it's hard. JUDGE And what is your occupation, Mr. McCord? MCCORD (softly) Security consultant. JUDGE Where? MCCORD (softer) Government. Recently retired. JUDGE Where in government? MCCORD (we can't really make this out) ...Central... Intelligence... Agency... JUDGE (he can't either) Where? MCCORD (clearing his throat) The C.I.A. And on these words, ZOOM TO: CLOSE UP--WOODWARD leaning over the fence practically falling over it in a desperate straining effort to catch what's going on. WOODWARD (stunned) Holy shit. Now from the courtroom-- CUT TO: THOUSANDS AND THOUSANDS OF WASHINGTON POSTS. We are at the end of the press run, the papers are all assembled and being cabled and sent off by machine to various places. As the papers continue to roll past-- A UNION TYPE EMPLOYEE grabs a paper, looks at the front page. The Watergate story, headlined whatever it was headlined, is visible. The byline was by Alfred E. Lewis. The union type Post employee glances at the article-- UNION POST EMPLOYEE (reading half-aloud) "Five men, one of whom said he is a former employee..." (stops reading, gives a shrug) Schmucks. And he turns happily to the sports section-- CUT TO: A CLOSE UP OF HUNDRED DOLLAR BILLS. It's new money and looks as if it's been recently ironed. Someone is going through the cash, making a quick count. During this-- FIRST VOICE (V.O.) Hurry it, huh, Bachinski? BACHINSKI You said I could look at it-- PULL BACK TO REVEAL We're in a room in a police station and two men are present. One, a COP, is nervous as hell and constantly aware of the door. The other, BACHINSKI, is taking hurried notes in a reporter's type notebook as he examines the evidence. COP --I said look, not memorize-- BACHINSKI --almost done, give it a rest, all right... (and he looks at an address book, he stops) CUT TO: THE ADDRESS BOOK. Beside the name "Howard E. Hunt" is the notation "W.House." Now, BACHINSKI hurriedly opens the other book to the letter "H" and there is the same name, "Howard E. Hunt" and beside it, the letters, "W.H." COP (V.O.) What'd you find? BACHINSKI (V.O.) Beats me. These notebooks belonged to Cuban guys? COP (V.O.) S'right. BACHINSKI (V.O.) It's gotta mean either White House or whore house, one or the other. We HOLD on the HUNT name, and the address notations. Then-- CUT TO: WOODWARD'S APARTMENT - NIGHT. The phone rings, waking him. He fumbles for the phone and the light, finally gets them both. WOODWARD Bachinski? (reaches for a notebook) What?--hold it-- (gets it open, starts to write) --OK, go on, go on... CUT TO: A BOX OF MAALOX TABLETS. ROSENFELD is opening them, we're in his office, WOODWARD sits across the desk, holding the notebook we saw him writing in. ROSENFELD ...go on, go on... WOODWARD That's everything Bachinski had, I think it's worth following up. ROSENFELD Don't know; who the hell's Howard Hunt? (crunches tablets) It's probably nothing but check it out. Just go easy, it could be crazy Cubans. HOWARD SIMONS sticks his head in the office. SIMONS Anything? ROSENFELD Woodward's onto a new wrinkle with the break-in thing--absolute page one stuff-- SIMONS --in other words, you got nothing, you're thumbsucking. ROSENFELD (shrugs) Could develop. SIMONS Let me see what you get, but don't jump--The New York Times thinks it's crazy Cubans. He moves on. ROSENFELD turns quickly to WOODWARD. ROSENFELD OK, get on this W.House guy and do a better job then you did on McCord. WOODWARD I did all right on McCord. ROSENFELD Then how come the Associated Press were the ones found out that Mr. McCord is security coordinator for the Committee to Re-elect the President, otherwise known as CREEP? WOODWARD (getting it straight) The head of security for the reelection of a Republican President got caught bugging the national offices of the Democrats? What the hell does that mean? ROSENFELD (hasn't the foggiest) Mr. John Mitchell, the head of CREEP, says it means nothing. (reads) "...This man and the other people involved were not operating on either our behalf or with our consent. These is no place in our campaign or in the electoral process for this type of activity, and we will not forget it or condone it." WOODWARD (getting up) You can't believe that. ROSENFELD As a rough rule of thumb, as far as I can throw Bronco Nagurski, that's how much I trust John Mitchell... Now-- CUT TO: A MOON-FACED MAN RINGING A TRIANGLE. CUT TO: THE NEWSROOM as the triangle sound echoes. HOWARD SIMONS leaves large Managing Editor's office, walks past another office, knocks twice on the glass wall. Inside the Executive Editor's office, BEN BRADLEE sits. As SIMONS knocks, he turns, nods. He appears, for the moment, deep in thought. HARRY ROSENFELD on the opposite end of the room hurries out of his office, following a bunch of editors, all of them heading across the huge room. As he passes WOODWARD's desk ROSENFELD pauses. ROSENFELD What'd you get on W.House? WOODWARD (massaging his neck) Lotsa hints-- ROSENFELD (not happy) I can't sell hints to Simons-- (stops, looks at piece of yellow paper) --you called everyone you know? (WOODWARD makes a nod) Call someone you don't know. WOODWARD continues to rub his neck as ROSENFELD hurries off, all the editors still moving toward the place where the moon- faced man intermittently rings the triangle. WOODWARD picks up the sheet of yellow paper from his desk. Lined, legal-sized, it is crammed with names and numbers and addresses. They are in no neat order; looking at them it's almost like following a path; chicken tracks in ink. WOODWARD mutters "to hell with it" and reaches for a thick book, flips it open. NOW WE SEE THE BOOK: It's the Washington Phone Directory and we're in the W's. As WOODWARD's finger stops, we can see he's looking at the White HOuse entry number. There it is, just like your name and mine. Listed. Now WOODWARD starts to dial, visibly nervous, a fact he tries very hard to keep out of his voice tone. WHITE HOUSE OPERATOR (V.O.) White House. WOODWARD (casually) Howard Hunt, please. Throughout the following call, we stay on WOODWARD's face, hear the other voices. WHITE HOUSE OPERATOR (V.O.) Mr. Hunt does not answer. WOODWARD is delighted he's even there. WOODWARD Thanks, anyway-- And he's about to hang up, when-- WHITE HOUSE OPERATOR (V.O.) I'll bet he's in Mr. Colson's office. Let me connect you. SECRETARY (V.O.) Charles Colson's wire. WOODWARD (a little more excited) Howard Hunt, please. SECRETARY (V.O.) Mr. Hunt isn't here just now. WOODWARD Thanks, anyway. And he's about to hang up again when-- SECRETARY (V.O.) Have you tried Mullen and Company Public Relations? He works at Mullen and Company Public Relations as a writer. The number is 555-1313. I'm sorry I couldn't be more helpful. WOODWARD Listen, forget it. He hangs up, sits there. His hands are a little twitchy... HOLD. Now-- CUT TO: ROSENFELD hurrying (he always hurries) toward his office. WOODWARD, looking for something in his desk throughout this scene, speaks to him. WOODWARD Who's Charles Colson? ROSENFELD (stops dead) I would liken your query to being in Russia half a century ago and asking someone, "I understand who Lenin is and Trotsky I got too, but who's this yokel Stalin?" WOODWARD Who's Colson, Harry? ROSENFELD The most powerful man in America is President Nixon, probably you've heard his name. WOODWARD, unfazed by anything, continues to open drawers, close them, as ROSENFELD rolls on. ROSENFELD The second most powerful man is Robert Haldeman. Just below him are a trio: Mr. Erlichman is Haldeman's friend, and they protect the President from everybody which is why they are referred to as either The German Shepherds or the Berlin Wall. Mr. Mitchell we've already discussed. Mr. Colson is the President's special counsel. WOODWARD (rising) Thanks, Harry. (looks at ROSENFELD) Know anything about Colson? ROSENFELD Just that on his office wall there's a cartoon with a caption reading, "When you've got them by the balls, their hearts and minds will follow." WOODWARD nods, heads back toward the files as we CUT TO: WOODWARD AT HIS DESK dialing the phone. He's got the Colson file spread out now, and we see pictures of the man and articles the Post had done on him. But basically what we see is WOODWARD plugging away on the goddamn phone and you'd think his finger would fall off from all the dialing and you know his voice is tiring as this montage goes on, you can hear it grow raspy. But a lot of what a reporter does he does on the phone, and that's what we're compressing here. The dialing never stops, the voices are continuous. WOODWARD Hello, I'm Bob Woodward of the Washing Post and... (beat) Mullen and Company Public Relations? Could you tell me when you expect Mr. Hunt? (surprised) He is? HUNT (V.O.) Howard Hunt here. WOODWARD Hi, I'm Bob Woodward of the Post and-- HUNT (V.O.) (impatient) --yes, yes, what is it? WOODWARD I was just kind of wondering why your name and phone number were in the address books of two of the men arrested at Watergate? HUNT (V.O.) (blind panic) Good God! And he bangs the phone down sharply-- --more dialing SOUNDS. Now snatches of conversation-- WOODWARD I'm sorry to bother you, Mr. Bennett, but we're doing some investigating of one of your employees, Howard Hunt. BENNETT (V.O.) Well, if you've been doing some investigating then obviously it's no secret to you that Howard was with the C.I.A. WOODWARD (he hadn't known) No secret at all. More dialing. Then-- WOODWARD (tired, voice deeper) Hello, C.I.A. This is R.W. Woodward, of the Washington Post--get me Personnel-- Dialing again. WOODWARD's voice is showing genuine fatigue. WOODWARD Hi, I'm Bob Woodward of the Washington Post--and--what's that?--you've never heard of me?--I can't help that--you don't believe I'm with the Post?-- what do you want me to do, Madam, shout "extra--extra"? There is the SOUND of the phone being slammed down in his ear. Hard. Now-- CUT TO: ROSENFELD AND SIMONS approaching WOODWARD who is working at his desk. He has put in a lot of hours on this and looks it. ROSENFELD Whaddya got, whaddya got? WOODWARD Hunt is Colson's man-- (to SIMONS, explaining) --that's Charles Colson, Nixon's special counsel-- (SIMONS almost says something, decides against it) --they both went to Brown University-- (consulting his notes) --Hunt worked for the C.I.A. till '70, and this is on deep background, the FBI thinks he's involved with the break-in. SIMONS What else have you got? WOODWARD According to White House personnel, Hunt definitely works there as a consultant for Colson. But when I called the White House Press office, they said he hadn't worked there for three months. Then the P.R. guy said the weirdest thing to me. (reading) "I am convinced that neither Mr. Colson nor anyone else at the White House had any knowledge of, or participation in, this deplorable incident at the Democratic National Committee." He looks up at them. SIMONS Isn't that what you'd expect them to say? WOODWARD Absolutely. ROSENFELD So? WOODWARD (he's got something and he knows it) I never asked them about Watergate. I only said what were Hunt's duties at the White House. They volunteered that he was innocent when nobody asked was he guilty. ROSENFELD (to SIMONS) I think we got a White House consultant linked to the bugging. SIMONS (nods) Just be careful how you write it. CUT TO: WOODWARD TYPING LIKE MAD, makes a mistake, corrects it, types on muttering to himself, and-- CUT TO: ROSENFELD IN HIS OFFICE munching a handful of Maalox tablets and-- CUT TO: WOODWARD taking a sheet from his typewriter, hurrying off and-- CUT TO: ROSENFELD taking the sheet from WOODWARD-- WOODWARD Here's the first take-- ROSENFELD nods, shows him out and-- CUT TO: WOODWARD BACK AT HIS MACHINE typing faster then before, makes another mistake, starts to correct it, glances around and-- CUT TO: ROSENFELD IN HIS OFFICE gesturing to somebody but not WOODWARD and-- CUT TO: WOODWARD watching as BERNSTEIN appears in view from behind the wide pillar by WOODWARD's desk, heads toward ROSENFELD's office. WOODWARD shrugs, goes back to his typing, makes a typo immediately, glances over toward ROSENFELD's office, freezes as we-- CUT TO: ROSENFELD handing some papers to BERNSTEIN. They look, from this distance, suspiciously like WOODWARD's story. CUT TO: BERNSTEIN hurrying out of ROSENFELD's office, and-- CUT TO: WOODWARD watching BERNSTEIN until he disappears out of sight behind the pillar. WOODWARD hesitates, finally goes back to his typing, makes another mistake, fixes it, makes still another, his temper is shortly to make itself known-- CUT TO: ROSENFELD as WOODWARD hands him another sheet of paper. WOODWARD This is all of it, Harry. ROSENFELD NODS, takes it, immediately starts to read as we-- CUT TO: WOODWARD AT HIS DESK watching as ROSENFELD gestures again. There is a pause. Then BERNSTEIN appears from behind the pillar and-- CUT TO: ROSENFELD handing BERNSTEIN another sheet of paper. BERSTEIN nods, takes it, walks back toward his desk, disappears behind the pillar again. WOODWARD is starting to steam. Now-- CUT TO: BERNSTEIN AT HIS DESK typing magnificently, his hands rising and falling like Rubinstein's. Behind him is the pillar and for a moment there is nothing--then, very slowly, a figure peers out from behind the pillar--it is WOODWARD. He watches. BERNSTEIN continues to type, then after a moment, rests, thinks, shifts around in his chair and as his glance starts toward the pillar-- CUT TO: THE PILLAR. WOODWARD is gone. CUT TO: BERNSTEIN typing madly away. THE PILLAR. WOODWARD is visible again, eyes very bright... now-- CUT TO: BERNSTEIN finishing typing, his hands moving majestically. WOODWARD comes up behind him, stands looking a second. Then-- WOODWARD We have to talk. BERNSTEIN nods, grabs the papers both that he's been typing and that he's been copying from. And as he rises-- PAN TO: WOODWARD AND BERNSTEIN walking silently out of the newsroom then turning left down a darker corridor, passing bulletin boards and wall lockers and it's all nice and quiet as they amble on, nodding to the few people they pass on their way and after a while they turn right and enter the coffee lounge which is empty; the walls are lined with Norman Rockwell reproductions and various kinds of vending machines are visible, selling coffee or milk or fruit or sandwiches and there are some plastic tables and chairs and the minute they are alone, the silence ends. WOODWARD What the hell were you doing rewriting my story-- BERNSTEIN --I sure couldn't hurt it, could I?-- WOODWARD --it was fine the way it was-- BERNSTEIN --it was bullshit the way it was-- WOODWARD --I have to stand here and listen to the staff correspondent from Virginia?-- BERNSTEIN (a sore subject) --what have you been here, nine months?--I been in this business since I was sixteen-- WOODWARD --and you've had some fucking meteoric rise, that's for sure--by the time you turn forty you might be the head of the Montana bureau-- BERNSTEIN --you only got the job because both you and Bradlee went to Yale-- WOODWARD --Bradlee went to Harvard-- BERNSTEIN --they're all the same, all those Ivy League places--they teach you about striped ties and suddenly you're smart-- WOODWARD --I'm smart enough to know my story was solid-- BERNSTEIN --mine's better-- WOODWARD --no way-- BERNSTEIN (handing them over) --read 'em both and you'll see-- And as WOODWARD glances at the two stories-- CUT TO: BERNSTEIN watching. Now-- CUT TO: WOODWARD. He glances from one story to the other. Then, disconsolately-- WOODWARD ...crap... And he sinks down in a chair. BERNSTEIN Is mine better? WOODWARD nods. WOODWARD (handing the stories back) What is it about my writing that's so rotten? BERNSTEIN (as he exits) Mainly it has to do with your choice of words. And as he goes, leaving WOODWARD just sitting there-- CUT TO: BERSTEIN, re-entering the newsroom, returning to his desk. He starts to insert some papers into his typewriter, hesitates, lights a cigarette. He inhales, as, behind him, WOODWARD briefly is visible going to his desk behind the pillar. Finally BERNSTEIN inserts the paper, starts to type as WOODWARD (V.O.) (from behind the pillar) Carl? BERNSTEIN (turns) Yeah? WOODWARD (pushing his chair briefly into view) Fuck you, Carl. And as he rolls forward again, out of sight-- CUT TO: RICHARD NIXON ON THE TUBE. (It's the June 22 Press Conference.) He talks on about something, it doesn't matter exactly what here, the point is, it should include that strange smile of his that kept appearing when the man should not have been smiling. Hints of pressure maybe, that's all, and once it's established-- PULL BACK TO REVEAL: WOODWARD sitting alone, gloomily staring at the set. We're in the Post Cafeteria, it's the next morning, and the place is pretty much empty. He sips the coffee, it tastes rotten. BERNSTEIN moves up behind him, carrying a cup of coffee of his own. He stands by WOODWARD briefly. BERNSTEIN You heard? (WOODWARD glances up) They put us both on the break-in thing. Simons liked the way we worked together. (WOODWARD nods, BERNSTEIN sits down) Listen, I'm sorry I said your story was bullshit. WOODWARD It's OK; I'm sorry I called you a failure. BERNSTEIN Forget it, the main thing-- (stops) --did you call me a failure? WOODWARD I was sure trying. CUT TO: WOODWARD, BERNSTEIN, AND NIXON. The way it's shot, it's almost as if they're watching each other; NIXON staring out from the TV set, answering questions. WOODWARD and BERNSTEIN sip coffee. We don't know yet--or better, they don't know it yet, but these are our adversaries. CUT TO: WOODWARD AND BERNSTEIN, without NIXON now. They sit at the table. Occasionally, NIXON is audible in the background. WOODWARD All right, what do we know? BERNSTEIN Let me lay a little theory on you-- WOODWARD (cutting him off) --I'm not interested in theory. What do we know? For example, Hunt's disappeared. BERNSTEIN Well, Barker tried to get blueprints of the Miami Convention Center and the air-conditioning system. WOODWARD And McCord was carrying an application for college press credentials for the Democratic convention. (to BERNSTEIN) The Times has got to be full of it-- it can't be crazy Cubans. BERNSTEIN What, though? (points to Nixon) It can't be the Republicans--he'd never allow something as stupid as this, not when he's gonna slaughter McGovern anyway. WOODWARD Right. Nixon didn't get where he got by being dumb-- (stops abruptly) --listen, that was a Watergate question-- CUT TO: NIXON ON THE TUBE. Serious now. NIXON The White House has had no involvement whatever in this particular incident. CUT TO: WOODWARD AND BERNSTEIN staring at the set thinking... CUT TO: WOODWARD AND BERNSTEIN walking toward BERSTEIN'S desk. WOODWARD Hey? BERNSTEIN Hmm. WOODWARD What do you think he meant, this particular incident? Were there others? How would we find out? You know anyone important? BERNSTEIN (sits, shakes his head) I lived here all my life, I got a million contacts, but they're all bus boys and bellhops. The reporter KEN RINGLE at the next desk watches them a moment. Then-- RINGLE What do you need? BERNSTEIN Someone inside the White House would be nice. RINGLE (writes down phone number) Call her. She worked for Colson, if that's any help. As BERNSTEIN grabs for the phone-- CUT TO: A SECRETARIAL POOL IN A LARGE OFFICE. BERNSTEIN is talking off to one side with an attractive girl. GIRL Kenny's crazy, I never worked for Colson, I worked for an assistant. Colson was big on secrets anyway. Even if I had worked for him, I wouldn't have known anything. BERNSTEIN Nothing at all you can remember? SECRETARY (headshake) Sorry. (pause) Now if it was Hunt you were interested in-- BERNSTEIN --Howard Hunt? SECRETARY Sure. Him I liked, he was a very nice person. Secretive too, traveled all over, but a decent man. BERNSTEIN Any idea what he did? SECRETARY Oh, the scuttlebutt for awhile was he was investigating Kennedy-- BERNSTEIN --Teddy Kennedy? SECRETARY Sure. I remember seeing a book about Chappaquiddick on his desk and he was always getting material out of the White House Library and the Library of Congress and-- And as

killing

How many times the word 'killing' appears in the text?

All the President's Men Script at IMSDb. var _gaq = _gaq || []; _gaq.push(['_setAccount', 'UA-3785444-3']); _gaq.push(['_trackPageview']); (function() { var ga = document.createElement('script'); ga.type = 'text/javascript'; ga.async = true; ga.src = ('https:' == document.location.protocol ? 'https://ssl' : 'http://www') + '.google-analytics.com/ga.js'; var s = document.getElementsByTagName('script')[0]; s.parentNode.insertBefore(ga, s); })(); The Internet Movie Script Database (IMSDb) The web's largest movie script resource! Search IMSDb Alphabetical # A B C D E F G H I J K L M N O P Q R S T U V W X Y Z Genre Action Adventure Animation Comedy Crime Drama Family Fantasy Film-Noir Horror Musical Mystery Romance Sci-Fi Short Thriller War Western Sponsor TV Transcripts Futurama Seinfeld South Park Stargate SG-1 Lost The 4400 International French scripts Movie Software Rip from DVD Rip Blu-Ray Latest Comments Star Wars: Revenge of the Sith10/10 Star Wars: The Force Awakens10/10 Batman Begins9/10 Collateral10/10 Jackie Brown8/10 Movie Chat Message Yell ! ALL SCRIPTS ALL THE PRESIDENT'S MEN - by William Goldman if (window!= top) top.location.href=location.href // --> "ALL THE PRESIDENT'S MEN" by William Goldman Based on the novel "All The President's Men" by Carl Bernstein and Bob Woodward Pre-rehearsal version March, 1975 Start with as few credits as possible. When they're over-- FADE IN ON: A TINY BLACK PIECE OF TAPE. We see it in the center of the large, dimly lit screen. As the tape is pressed around a door-- BEGIN THE BREAK-IN SEQUENCE. It's a major piece of action, running maybe five minutes and it's all as detailed and accurate as we can make it, with as many "if only's" included as possible. ("If only" the tape had been attached up and down instead of around the door, Wills wouldn't have spotted it and alerted the police; "if only" the first police car called had gone to investigate, Baldwin, watching from the Howard Johnson Motor Inn, would have seen their uniforms and radioed Hunt and Liddy in time for them to have gotten to the five burglars and then safely away.) The break-in ends when Leeper arrests the five men. He thought he only had one guy, so when ten hands were raised he was surprised. The hands are all encased in Playtex rubber surgical gloves. HOLD on the hands a moment; then-- GO TO: A DARK APARTMENT. The phone rings. WOODWARD fumbles for the receiver, turns on the bed light. He listens a moment. WOODWARD No, no trouble, Harry, be right down. (he hangs up) Son of a bitch. He lies back. The apartment is one room, a small terrace beyond. Not much of a place. WOODWARD lies still, staring at the ceiling. He blinks, blinks again. HOLD... CUT TO: THE ENORMOUS FIFTH FLOOR OF THE WASHINGTON POST. It looks, early of a Saturday morning, pretty deserted. Those reporters that are around are young, bright, and presently involved in nothing more taxing than drinking coffee and thumbing through the papers. HARRY ROSENFELD surveys the scene from his office doorway as WOODWARD approaches, hangs his coat at his desk, not far from where ROSENFELD is standing. ROSENFELD Where's that cheery face we've come to know and love? WOODWARD You call me in on my day off because some idiots have broken into local Democratic Headquarters--tell me, Harry, why should I be smiling? ROSENFELD As usual, that keen mind of yours has pegged the situation perfectly. (chomps on some Maalox tablets) Except (a) it wasn't local Democratic Headquarters, it was National Democratic Headquarters-- (WOODWARD is surprised-- he hadn't known) --and (b) these weren't just any idiots, these were special idiots, seeing as when they were arrested at 2:30 this morning, they were all wearing business suits and Playtex gloves and were carrying-- (consults a piece of paper) --a walkie-talkie, forty rolls of film, cameras, lock picks, pen-sized tear gas guns, plus various bugging devices. (puts paper down) Not to mention over two thousand dollars, mostly in sequenced hundred dollar bills. WOODWARD Preliminary hearing at Superior Courthouse? ROSENFELD (nods) Two o'clock, work the phones 'til you go. CUT TO: THE CRIMINAL COURTS BUILDING. WOODWARD hurries along, goes inside as we CUT TO: A CORRIDOR INSIDE. WOODWARD comes down it, looks around, sees a door marked "Counsel's Offices" and heads toward it. Now-- CUT TO: A CLERK AT A DESK as WOODWARD comes up. Behind them, two lawyers are clearly angry about something, talking and gesticulating to each other. WOODWARD (to the COUNSEL'S CLERK) Could you give me the names of the lawyers for the men arrested in the Watergate. CLERK These two were appointed-- (indicates the angry men) --only now it turns out the burglars got their own counsel. (he starts to laugh) FIRST ANGRY LAWYER (to CLERK) When you gonna stop thinking it's so funny. SECOND ANGRY LAWYER (To CLERK) We wouldda done a terrific job protecting those guys. (neither lawyer, by the way, is Clarence Darrow) FIRST ANGRY LAWYER You think we're not as good as some hotshot fancy lawyer?-- CUT TO: THE COURTROOM and business is booming. Muggers, pimp, hookers, their families and friends. In the scene that follows, a constant counterpoint is what's going on up at the front as an endless succession of petty criminals caught the previous night, the aforementioned muggers, pimps, and hookers, are shuttled in, given a quick appearance before a JUDGE who sets bond, and then shuttled out. In the audience, one man stands out--DOUGLAS CADDY. He is extremely well-dressed and obviously successful. Beside him sits another smaller man, who is unshaven and squints. WOODWARD moves in, sits alongside CADDY. WOODWARD Mr. Caddy? My name's Bob Woodward, I'm from the Post and I wanted to ask about how you happened to come on this case-- CADDY --I'm not here. WOODWARD (nods) OK. He takes out a small notebook, writes, muttering aloud as he does. WOODWARD Douglas Caddy, the attorney of record, when questioned about his presence in the courtroom, denied he was in the courtroom, "I'm not here," Mr. Caddy said. CADDY (impatiently) Clearly, I am here, but only as an individual, I'm not the attorney of record. (indicating unshaven man) Mr. Rafferty has that position. Whatever you want, you'll have to get from him, I have nothing more to say. And as he gets up, walks off-- CUT TO: THE WATER FOUNTAIN IN THE CORRIDOR. There is a small line. CADDY waits at the end of it. WOODWARD (moving in behind him) Mr. Rafferty was very helpful. Four Cuban-Americans and this other man, James McCord. CADDY Look, I told you inside-- WOODWARD --you have nothing more to say, I understand that. CADDY turns away; WOODWARD goes right on. WOODWARD What I don't understand is how you got here. CADDY I assure you, there's nothing mysterious involved. WOODWARD Probably you're right, but a little while ago, I was talking to a couple of lawyers who'd been assigned to represent the burglars. CADDY So? WOODWARD Well, they never would have been assigned if anyone had known the burglars had arranged for their own counsel. And that could only mean the burglars didn't arrange for their own counsel--they never even made a phone call. (looks at CADDY) So if they didn't ask for you to be here, how did you know to come? Without a word, CADDY turns, leaves the line without getting a drink. Silently, WOODWARD watches. Now-- CUT TO: CADDY seated as before beside RAFFERTY. WOODWARD's voice come from behind him, and as CADDY turns, WOODWARD is seated one row back. WOODWARD Did you know to come because one of the other men involved in the break- in called you? CADDY (turning) There is no reason to assume other people were involved. WOODWARD Your clients were arrested with a walkie-talkie; they didn't need that to talk among themselves. CADDY looks at WOODWARD, turns back. CADDY (turning back) They are not my clients. WOODWARD You're a lawyer and you're here-- CADDY --I met one of the defendants, Mr. Barker, at a social occasion once-- (stops himself) --I have nothing more to say. WOODWARD (leaning forward as CADDY turns away again) A Miami social occasion? (explaining) Mr. Rafferty told me the Cubans were from Miami. CADDY (sighing) Barker's wife called me at three this morning; her husband apparently had told her to call if he hadn't called her by then. WOODWARD It was really nice of you to come, since you'd only met him once. CADDY Are you implying you don't believe me? WOODWARD I have nothing more to say. CADDY You don't mind getting on people's nerves, do you? WOODWARD considers this a moment. Then-- WOODWARD Nope. And on that word-- CUT TO: THE COURTROOM as without warning, it quiets. There is suddenly a tremendous air of expectancy, you can feel it. Now we see why as five men in dark business suits are led in; they've been stripped of belts, ties, and shoelaces. McCord is taller than the others. They stand, facing the JUDGE, backs to the audience. WOODWARD sits watching as the proceedings start, but it's hard to hear. He concentrates as the JUDGE starts speaking. JUDGE Will you please state your professions. The five men do not move or reply. Then, after a long pause, Barker says-- BARKER Anti-Communists. JUDGE Anti-Communists? (perplexed) That, sir, is not your average occupation. WOODWARD starts moving forward now, down an aisle, moving past kids and whores and all the rest, trying to hear what the hell's going on. At the front of the spectator's section is a fence-like wooden barricade about three feet high. As he approaches it-- The JUDGE indicates the bald burglar. JUDGE Your name, please. MCCORD James McCord. JUDGE Will you step forward, sir. (MCCORD obeys) WOODWARD at the bench is leaning forward, trying to hear but it's hard. JUDGE And what is your occupation, Mr. McCord? MCCORD (softly) Security consultant. JUDGE Where? MCCORD (softer) Government. Recently retired. JUDGE Where in government? MCCORD (we can't really make this out) ...Central... Intelligence... Agency... JUDGE (he can't either) Where? MCCORD (clearing his throat) The C.I.A. And on these words, ZOOM TO: CLOSE UP--WOODWARD leaning over the fence practically falling over it in a desperate straining effort to catch what's going on. WOODWARD (stunned) Holy shit. Now from the courtroom-- CUT TO: THOUSANDS AND THOUSANDS OF WASHINGTON POSTS. We are at the end of the press run, the papers are all assembled and being cabled and sent off by machine to various places. As the papers continue to roll past-- A UNION TYPE EMPLOYEE grabs a paper, looks at the front page. The Watergate story, headlined whatever it was headlined, is visible. The byline was by Alfred E. Lewis. The union type Post employee glances at the article-- UNION POST EMPLOYEE (reading half-aloud) "Five men, one of whom said he is a former employee..." (stops reading, gives a shrug) Schmucks. And he turns happily to the sports section-- CUT TO: A CLOSE UP OF HUNDRED DOLLAR BILLS. It's new money and looks as if it's been recently ironed. Someone is going through the cash, making a quick count. During this-- FIRST VOICE (V.O.) Hurry it, huh, Bachinski? BACHINSKI You said I could look at it-- PULL BACK TO REVEAL We're in a room in a police station and two men are present. One, a COP, is nervous as hell and constantly aware of the door. The other, BACHINSKI, is taking hurried notes in a reporter's type notebook as he examines the evidence. COP --I said look, not memorize-- BACHINSKI --almost done, give it a rest, all right... (and he looks at an address book, he stops) CUT TO: THE ADDRESS BOOK. Beside the name "Howard E. Hunt" is the notation "W.House." Now, BACHINSKI hurriedly opens the other book to the letter "H" and there is the same name, "Howard E. Hunt" and beside it, the letters, "W.H." COP (V.O.) What'd you find? BACHINSKI (V.O.) Beats me. These notebooks belonged to Cuban guys? COP (V.O.) S'right. BACHINSKI (V.O.) It's gotta mean either White House or whore house, one or the other. We HOLD on the HUNT name, and the address notations. Then-- CUT TO: WOODWARD'S APARTMENT - NIGHT. The phone rings, waking him. He fumbles for the phone and the light, finally gets them both. WOODWARD Bachinski? (reaches for a notebook) What?--hold it-- (gets it open, starts to write) --OK, go on, go on... CUT TO: A BOX OF MAALOX TABLETS. ROSENFELD is opening them, we're in his office, WOODWARD sits across the desk, holding the notebook we saw him writing in. ROSENFELD ...go on, go on... WOODWARD That's everything Bachinski had, I think it's worth following up. ROSENFELD Don't know; who the hell's Howard Hunt? (crunches tablets) It's probably nothing but check it out. Just go easy, it could be crazy Cubans. HOWARD SIMONS sticks his head in the office. SIMONS Anything? ROSENFELD Woodward's onto a new wrinkle with the break-in thing--absolute page one stuff-- SIMONS --in other words, you got nothing, you're thumbsucking. ROSENFELD (shrugs) Could develop. SIMONS Let me see what you get, but don't jump--The New York Times thinks it's crazy Cubans. He moves on. ROSENFELD turns quickly to WOODWARD. ROSENFELD OK, get on this W.House guy and do a better job then you did on McCord. WOODWARD I did all right on McCord. ROSENFELD Then how come the Associated Press were the ones found out that Mr. McCord is security coordinator for the Committee to Re-elect the President, otherwise known as CREEP? WOODWARD (getting it straight) The head of security for the reelection of a Republican President got caught bugging the national offices of the Democrats? What the hell does that mean? ROSENFELD (hasn't the foggiest) Mr. John Mitchell, the head of CREEP, says it means nothing. (reads) "...This man and the other people involved were not operating on either our behalf or with our consent. These is no place in our campaign or in the electoral process for this type of activity, and we will not forget it or condone it." WOODWARD (getting up) You can't believe that. ROSENFELD As a rough rule of thumb, as far as I can throw Bronco Nagurski, that's how much I trust John Mitchell... Now-- CUT TO: A MOON-FACED MAN RINGING A TRIANGLE. CUT TO: THE NEWSROOM as the triangle sound echoes. HOWARD SIMONS leaves large Managing Editor's office, walks past another office, knocks twice on the glass wall. Inside the Executive Editor's office, BEN BRADLEE sits. As SIMONS knocks, he turns, nods. He appears, for the moment, deep in thought. HARRY ROSENFELD on the opposite end of the room hurries out of his office, following a bunch of editors, all of them heading across the huge room. As he passes WOODWARD's desk ROSENFELD pauses. ROSENFELD What'd you get on W.House? WOODWARD (massaging his neck) Lotsa hints-- ROSENFELD (not happy) I can't sell hints to Simons-- (stops, looks at piece of yellow paper) --you called everyone you know? (WOODWARD makes a nod) Call someone you don't know. WOODWARD continues to rub his neck as ROSENFELD hurries off, all the editors still moving toward the place where the moon- faced man intermittently rings the triangle. WOODWARD picks up the sheet of yellow paper from his desk. Lined, legal-sized, it is crammed with names and numbers and addresses. They are in no neat order; looking at them it's almost like following a path; chicken tracks in ink. WOODWARD mutters "to hell with it" and reaches for a thick book, flips it open. NOW WE SEE THE BOOK: It's the Washington Phone Directory and we're in the W's. As WOODWARD's finger stops, we can see he's looking at the White HOuse entry number. There it is, just like your name and mine. Listed. Now WOODWARD starts to dial, visibly nervous, a fact he tries very hard to keep out of his voice tone. WHITE HOUSE OPERATOR (V.O.) White House. WOODWARD (casually) Howard Hunt, please. Throughout the following call, we stay on WOODWARD's face, hear the other voices. WHITE HOUSE OPERATOR (V.O.) Mr. Hunt does not answer. WOODWARD is delighted he's even there. WOODWARD Thanks, anyway-- And he's about to hang up, when-- WHITE HOUSE OPERATOR (V.O.) I'll bet he's in Mr. Colson's office. Let me connect you. SECRETARY (V.O.) Charles Colson's wire. WOODWARD (a little more excited) Howard Hunt, please. SECRETARY (V.O.) Mr. Hunt isn't here just now. WOODWARD Thanks, anyway. And he's about to hang up again when-- SECRETARY (V.O.) Have you tried Mullen and Company Public Relations? He works at Mullen and Company Public Relations as a writer. The number is 555-1313. I'm sorry I couldn't be more helpful. WOODWARD Listen, forget it. He hangs up, sits there. His hands are a little twitchy... HOLD. Now-- CUT TO: ROSENFELD hurrying (he always hurries) toward his office. WOODWARD, looking for something in his desk throughout this scene, speaks to him. WOODWARD Who's Charles Colson? ROSENFELD (stops dead) I would liken your query to being in Russia half a century ago and asking someone, "I understand who Lenin is and Trotsky I got too, but who's this yokel Stalin?" WOODWARD Who's Colson, Harry? ROSENFELD The most powerful man in America is President Nixon, probably you've heard his name. WOODWARD, unfazed by anything, continues to open drawers, close them, as ROSENFELD rolls on. ROSENFELD The second most powerful man is Robert Haldeman. Just below him are a trio: Mr. Erlichman is Haldeman's friend, and they protect the President from everybody which is why they are referred to as either The German Shepherds or the Berlin Wall. Mr. Mitchell we've already discussed. Mr. Colson is the President's special counsel. WOODWARD (rising) Thanks, Harry. (looks at ROSENFELD) Know anything about Colson? ROSENFELD Just that on his office wall there's a cartoon with a caption reading, "When you've got them by the balls, their hearts and minds will follow." WOODWARD nods, heads back toward the files as we CUT TO: WOODWARD AT HIS DESK dialing the phone. He's got the Colson file spread out now, and we see pictures of the man and articles the Post had done on him. But basically what we see is WOODWARD plugging away on the goddamn phone and you'd think his finger would fall off from all the dialing and you know his voice is tiring as this montage goes on, you can hear it grow raspy. But a lot of what a reporter does he does on the phone, and that's what we're compressing here. The dialing never stops, the voices are continuous. WOODWARD Hello, I'm Bob Woodward of the Washing Post and... (beat) Mullen and Company Public Relations? Could you tell me when you expect Mr. Hunt? (surprised) He is? HUNT (V.O.) Howard Hunt here. WOODWARD Hi, I'm Bob Woodward of the Post and-- HUNT (V.O.) (impatient) --yes, yes, what is it? WOODWARD I was just kind of wondering why your name and phone number were in the address books of two of the men arrested at Watergate? HUNT (V.O.) (blind panic) Good God! And he bangs the phone down sharply-- --more dialing SOUNDS. Now snatches of conversation-- WOODWARD I'm sorry to bother you, Mr. Bennett, but we're doing some investigating of one of your employees, Howard Hunt. BENNETT (V.O.) Well, if you've been doing some investigating then obviously it's no secret to you that Howard was with the C.I.A. WOODWARD (he hadn't known) No secret at all. More dialing. Then-- WOODWARD (tired, voice deeper) Hello, C.I.A. This is R.W. Woodward, of the Washington Post--get me Personnel-- Dialing again. WOODWARD's voice is showing genuine fatigue. WOODWARD Hi, I'm Bob Woodward of the Washington Post--and--what's that?--you've never heard of me?--I can't help that--you don't believe I'm with the Post?-- what do you want me to do, Madam, shout "extra--extra"? There is the SOUND of the phone being slammed down in his ear. Hard. Now-- CUT TO: ROSENFELD AND SIMONS approaching WOODWARD who is working at his desk. He has put in a lot of hours on this and looks it. ROSENFELD Whaddya got, whaddya got? WOODWARD Hunt is Colson's man-- (to SIMONS, explaining) --that's Charles Colson, Nixon's special counsel-- (SIMONS almost says something, decides against it) --they both went to Brown University-- (consulting his notes) --Hunt worked for the C.I.A. till '70, and this is on deep background, the FBI thinks he's involved with the break-in. SIMONS What else have you got? WOODWARD According to White House personnel, Hunt definitely works there as a consultant for Colson. But when I called the White House Press office, they said he hadn't worked there for three months. Then the P.R. guy said the weirdest thing to me. (reading) "I am convinced that neither Mr. Colson nor anyone else at the White House had any knowledge of, or participation in, this deplorable incident at the Democratic National Committee." He looks up at them. SIMONS Isn't that what you'd expect them to say? WOODWARD Absolutely. ROSENFELD So? WOODWARD (he's got something and he knows it) I never asked them about Watergate. I only said what were Hunt's duties at the White House. They volunteered that he was innocent when nobody asked was he guilty. ROSENFELD (to SIMONS) I think we got a White House consultant linked to the bugging. SIMONS (nods) Just be careful how you write it. CUT TO: WOODWARD TYPING LIKE MAD, makes a mistake, corrects it, types on muttering to himself, and-- CUT TO: ROSENFELD IN HIS OFFICE munching a handful of Maalox tablets and-- CUT TO: WOODWARD taking a sheet from his typewriter, hurrying off and-- CUT TO: ROSENFELD taking the sheet from WOODWARD-- WOODWARD Here's the first take-- ROSENFELD nods, shows him out and-- CUT TO: WOODWARD BACK AT HIS MACHINE typing faster then before, makes another mistake, starts to correct it, glances around and-- CUT TO: ROSENFELD IN HIS OFFICE gesturing to somebody but not WOODWARD and-- CUT TO: WOODWARD watching as BERNSTEIN appears in view from behind the wide pillar by WOODWARD's desk, heads toward ROSENFELD's office. WOODWARD shrugs, goes back to his typing, makes a typo immediately, glances over toward ROSENFELD's office, freezes as we-- CUT TO: ROSENFELD handing some papers to BERNSTEIN. They look, from this distance, suspiciously like WOODWARD's story. CUT TO: BERNSTEIN hurrying out of ROSENFELD's office, and-- CUT TO: WOODWARD watching BERNSTEIN until he disappears out of sight behind the pillar. WOODWARD hesitates, finally goes back to his typing, makes another mistake, fixes it, makes still another, his temper is shortly to make itself known-- CUT TO: ROSENFELD as WOODWARD hands him another sheet of paper. WOODWARD This is all of it, Harry. ROSENFELD NODS, takes it, immediately starts to read as we-- CUT TO: WOODWARD AT HIS DESK watching as ROSENFELD gestures again. There is a pause. Then BERNSTEIN appears from behind the pillar and-- CUT TO: ROSENFELD handing BERNSTEIN another sheet of paper. BERSTEIN nods, takes it, walks back toward his desk, disappears behind the pillar again. WOODWARD is starting to steam. Now-- CUT TO: BERNSTEIN AT HIS DESK typing magnificently, his hands rising and falling like Rubinstein's. Behind him is the pillar and for a moment there is nothing--then, very slowly, a figure peers out from behind the pillar--it is WOODWARD. He watches. BERNSTEIN continues to type, then after a moment, rests, thinks, shifts around in his chair and as his glance starts toward the pillar-- CUT TO: THE PILLAR. WOODWARD is gone. CUT TO: BERNSTEIN typing madly away. THE PILLAR. WOODWARD is visible again, eyes very bright... now-- CUT TO: BERNSTEIN finishing typing, his hands moving majestically. WOODWARD comes up behind him, stands looking a second. Then-- WOODWARD We have to talk. BERNSTEIN nods, grabs the papers both that he's been typing and that he's been copying from. And as he rises-- PAN TO: WOODWARD AND BERNSTEIN walking silently out of the newsroom then turning left down a darker corridor, passing bulletin boards and wall lockers and it's all nice and quiet as they amble on, nodding to the few people they pass on their way and after a while they turn right and enter the coffee lounge which is empty; the walls are lined with Norman Rockwell reproductions and various kinds of vending machines are visible, selling coffee or milk or fruit or sandwiches and there are some plastic tables and chairs and the minute they are alone, the silence ends. WOODWARD What the hell were you doing rewriting my story-- BERNSTEIN --I sure couldn't hurt it, could I?-- WOODWARD --it was fine the way it was-- BERNSTEIN --it was bullshit the way it was-- WOODWARD --I have to stand here and listen to the staff correspondent from Virginia?-- BERNSTEIN (a sore subject) --what have you been here, nine months?--I been in this business since I was sixteen-- WOODWARD --and you've had some fucking meteoric rise, that's for sure--by the time you turn forty you might be the head of the Montana bureau-- BERNSTEIN --you only got the job because both you and Bradlee went to Yale-- WOODWARD --Bradlee went to Harvard-- BERNSTEIN --they're all the same, all those Ivy League places--they teach you about striped ties and suddenly you're smart-- WOODWARD --I'm smart enough to know my story was solid-- BERNSTEIN --mine's better-- WOODWARD --no way-- BERNSTEIN (handing them over) --read 'em both and you'll see-- And as WOODWARD glances at the two stories-- CUT TO: BERNSTEIN watching. Now-- CUT TO: WOODWARD. He glances from one story to the other. Then, disconsolately-- WOODWARD ...crap... And he sinks down in a chair. BERNSTEIN Is mine better? WOODWARD nods. WOODWARD (handing the stories back) What is it about my writing that's so rotten? BERNSTEIN (as he exits) Mainly it has to do with your choice of words. And as he goes, leaving WOODWARD just sitting there-- CUT TO: BERSTEIN, re-entering the newsroom, returning to his desk. He starts to insert some papers into his typewriter, hesitates, lights a cigarette. He inhales, as, behind him, WOODWARD briefly is visible going to his desk behind the pillar. Finally BERNSTEIN inserts the paper, starts to type as WOODWARD (V.O.) (from behind the pillar) Carl? BERNSTEIN (turns) Yeah? WOODWARD (pushing his chair briefly into view) Fuck you, Carl. And as he rolls forward again, out of sight-- CUT TO: RICHARD NIXON ON THE TUBE. (It's the June 22 Press Conference.) He talks on about something, it doesn't matter exactly what here, the point is, it should include that strange smile of his that kept appearing when the man should not have been smiling. Hints of pressure maybe, that's all, and once it's established-- PULL BACK TO REVEAL: WOODWARD sitting alone, gloomily staring at the set. We're in the Post Cafeteria, it's the next morning, and the place is pretty much empty. He sips the coffee, it tastes rotten. BERNSTEIN moves up behind him, carrying a cup of coffee of his own. He stands by WOODWARD briefly. BERNSTEIN You heard? (WOODWARD glances up) They put us both on the break-in thing. Simons liked the way we worked together. (WOODWARD nods, BERNSTEIN sits down) Listen, I'm sorry I said your story was bullshit. WOODWARD It's OK; I'm sorry I called you a failure. BERNSTEIN Forget it, the main thing-- (stops) --did you call me a failure? WOODWARD I was sure trying. CUT TO: WOODWARD, BERNSTEIN, AND NIXON. The way it's shot, it's almost as if they're watching each other; NIXON staring out from the TV set, answering questions. WOODWARD and BERNSTEIN sip coffee. We don't know yet--or better, they don't know it yet, but these are our adversaries. CUT TO: WOODWARD AND BERNSTEIN, without NIXON now. They sit at the table. Occasionally, NIXON is audible in the background. WOODWARD All right, what do we know? BERNSTEIN Let me lay a little theory on you-- WOODWARD (cutting him off) --I'm not interested in theory. What do we know? For example, Hunt's disappeared. BERNSTEIN Well, Barker tried to get blueprints of the Miami Convention Center and the air-conditioning system. WOODWARD And McCord was carrying an application for college press credentials for the Democratic convention. (to BERNSTEIN) The Times has got to be full of it-- it can't be crazy Cubans. BERNSTEIN What, though? (points to Nixon) It can't be the Republicans--he'd never allow something as stupid as this, not when he's gonna slaughter McGovern anyway. WOODWARD Right. Nixon didn't get where he got by being dumb-- (stops abruptly) --listen, that was a Watergate question-- CUT TO: NIXON ON THE TUBE. Serious now. NIXON The White House has had no involvement whatever in this particular incident. CUT TO: WOODWARD AND BERNSTEIN staring at the set thinking... CUT TO: WOODWARD AND BERNSTEIN walking toward BERSTEIN'S desk. WOODWARD Hey? BERNSTEIN Hmm. WOODWARD What do you think he meant, this particular incident? Were there others? How would we find out? You know anyone important? BERNSTEIN (sits, shakes his head) I lived here all my life, I got a million contacts, but they're all bus boys and bellhops. The reporter KEN RINGLE at the next desk watches them a moment. Then-- RINGLE What do you need? BERNSTEIN Someone inside the White House would be nice. RINGLE (writes down phone number) Call her. She worked for Colson, if that's any help. As BERNSTEIN grabs for the phone-- CUT TO: A SECRETARIAL POOL IN A LARGE OFFICE. BERNSTEIN is talking off to one side with an attractive girl. GIRL Kenny's crazy, I never worked for Colson, I worked for an assistant. Colson was big on secrets anyway. Even if I had worked for him, I wouldn't have known anything. BERNSTEIN Nothing at all you can remember? SECRETARY (headshake) Sorry. (pause) Now if it was Hunt you were interested in-- BERNSTEIN --Howard Hunt? SECRETARY Sure. Him I liked, he was a very nice person. Secretive too, traveled all over, but a decent man. BERNSTEIN Any idea what he did? SECRETARY Oh, the scuttlebutt for awhile was he was investigating Kennedy-- BERNSTEIN --Teddy Kennedy? SECRETARY Sure. I remember seeing a book about Chappaquiddick on his desk and he was always getting material out of the White House Library and the Library of Congress and-- And as

fence

How many times the word 'fence' appears in the text?

All the President's Men Script at IMSDb. var _gaq = _gaq || []; _gaq.push(['_setAccount', 'UA-3785444-3']); _gaq.push(['_trackPageview']); (function() { var ga = document.createElement('script'); ga.type = 'text/javascript'; ga.async = true; ga.src = ('https:' == document.location.protocol ? 'https://ssl' : 'http://www') + '.google-analytics.com/ga.js'; var s = document.getElementsByTagName('script')[0]; s.parentNode.insertBefore(ga, s); })(); The Internet Movie Script Database (IMSDb) The web's largest movie script resource! Search IMSDb Alphabetical # A B C D E F G H I J K L M N O P Q R S T U V W X Y Z Genre Action Adventure Animation Comedy Crime Drama Family Fantasy Film-Noir Horror Musical Mystery Romance Sci-Fi Short Thriller War Western Sponsor TV Transcripts Futurama Seinfeld South Park Stargate SG-1 Lost The 4400 International French scripts Movie Software Rip from DVD Rip Blu-Ray Latest Comments Star Wars: Revenge of the Sith10/10 Star Wars: The Force Awakens10/10 Batman Begins9/10 Collateral10/10 Jackie Brown8/10 Movie Chat Message Yell ! ALL SCRIPTS ALL THE PRESIDENT'S MEN - by William Goldman if (window!= top) top.location.href=location.href // --> "ALL THE PRESIDENT'S MEN" by William Goldman Based on the novel "All The President's Men" by Carl Bernstein and Bob Woodward Pre-rehearsal version March, 1975 Start with as few credits as possible. When they're over-- FADE IN ON: A TINY BLACK PIECE OF TAPE. We see it in the center of the large, dimly lit screen. As the tape is pressed around a door-- BEGIN THE BREAK-IN SEQUENCE. It's a major piece of action, running maybe five minutes and it's all as detailed and accurate as we can make it, with as many "if only's" included as possible. ("If only" the tape had been attached up and down instead of around the door, Wills wouldn't have spotted it and alerted the police; "if only" the first police car called had gone to investigate, Baldwin, watching from the Howard Johnson Motor Inn, would have seen their uniforms and radioed Hunt and Liddy in time for them to have gotten to the five burglars and then safely away.) The break-in ends when Leeper arrests the five men. He thought he only had one guy, so when ten hands were raised he was surprised. The hands are all encased in Playtex rubber surgical gloves. HOLD on the hands a moment; then-- GO TO: A DARK APARTMENT. The phone rings. WOODWARD fumbles for the receiver, turns on the bed light. He listens a moment. WOODWARD No, no trouble, Harry, be right down. (he hangs up) Son of a bitch. He lies back. The apartment is one room, a small terrace beyond. Not much of a place. WOODWARD lies still, staring at the ceiling. He blinks, blinks again. HOLD... CUT TO: THE ENORMOUS FIFTH FLOOR OF THE WASHINGTON POST. It looks, early of a Saturday morning, pretty deserted. Those reporters that are around are young, bright, and presently involved in nothing more taxing than drinking coffee and thumbing through the papers. HARRY ROSENFELD surveys the scene from his office doorway as WOODWARD approaches, hangs his coat at his desk, not far from where ROSENFELD is standing. ROSENFELD Where's that cheery face we've come to know and love? WOODWARD You call me in on my day off because some idiots have broken into local Democratic Headquarters--tell me, Harry, why should I be smiling? ROSENFELD As usual, that keen mind of yours has pegged the situation perfectly. (chomps on some Maalox tablets) Except (a) it wasn't local Democratic Headquarters, it was National Democratic Headquarters-- (WOODWARD is surprised-- he hadn't known) --and (b) these weren't just any idiots, these were special idiots, seeing as when they were arrested at 2:30 this morning, they were all wearing business suits and Playtex gloves and were carrying-- (consults a piece of paper) --a walkie-talkie, forty rolls of film, cameras, lock picks, pen-sized tear gas guns, plus various bugging devices. (puts paper down) Not to mention over two thousand dollars, mostly in sequenced hundred dollar bills. WOODWARD Preliminary hearing at Superior Courthouse? ROSENFELD (nods) Two o'clock, work the phones 'til you go. CUT TO: THE CRIMINAL COURTS BUILDING. WOODWARD hurries along, goes inside as we CUT TO: A CORRIDOR INSIDE. WOODWARD comes down it, looks around, sees a door marked "Counsel's Offices" and heads toward it. Now-- CUT TO: A CLERK AT A DESK as WOODWARD comes up. Behind them, two lawyers are clearly angry about something, talking and gesticulating to each other. WOODWARD (to the COUNSEL'S CLERK) Could you give me the names of the lawyers for the men arrested in the Watergate. CLERK These two were appointed-- (indicates the angry men) --only now it turns out the burglars got their own counsel. (he starts to laugh) FIRST ANGRY LAWYER (to CLERK) When you gonna stop thinking it's so funny. SECOND ANGRY LAWYER (To CLERK) We wouldda done a terrific job protecting those guys. (neither lawyer, by the way, is Clarence Darrow) FIRST ANGRY LAWYER You think we're not as good as some hotshot fancy lawyer?-- CUT TO: THE COURTROOM and business is booming. Muggers, pimp, hookers, their families and friends. In the scene that follows, a constant counterpoint is what's going on up at the front as an endless succession of petty criminals caught the previous night, the aforementioned muggers, pimps, and hookers, are shuttled in, given a quick appearance before a JUDGE who sets bond, and then shuttled out. In the audience, one man stands out--DOUGLAS CADDY. He is extremely well-dressed and obviously successful. Beside him sits another smaller man, who is unshaven and squints. WOODWARD moves in, sits alongside CADDY. WOODWARD Mr. Caddy? My name's Bob Woodward, I'm from the Post and I wanted to ask about how you happened to come on this case-- CADDY --I'm not here. WOODWARD (nods) OK. He takes out a small notebook, writes, muttering aloud as he does. WOODWARD Douglas Caddy, the attorney of record, when questioned about his presence in the courtroom, denied he was in the courtroom, "I'm not here," Mr. Caddy said. CADDY (impatiently) Clearly, I am here, but only as an individual, I'm not the attorney of record. (indicating unshaven man) Mr. Rafferty has that position. Whatever you want, you'll have to get from him, I have nothing more to say. And as he gets up, walks off-- CUT TO: THE WATER FOUNTAIN IN THE CORRIDOR. There is a small line. CADDY waits at the end of it. WOODWARD (moving in behind him) Mr. Rafferty was very helpful. Four Cuban-Americans and this other man, James McCord. CADDY Look, I told you inside-- WOODWARD --you have nothing more to say, I understand that. CADDY turns away; WOODWARD goes right on. WOODWARD What I don't understand is how you got here. CADDY I assure you, there's nothing mysterious involved. WOODWARD Probably you're right, but a little while ago, I was talking to a couple of lawyers who'd been assigned to represent the burglars. CADDY So? WOODWARD Well, they never would have been assigned if anyone had known the burglars had arranged for their own counsel. And that could only mean the burglars didn't arrange for their own counsel--they never even made a phone call. (looks at CADDY) So if they didn't ask for you to be here, how did you know to come? Without a word, CADDY turns, leaves the line without getting a drink. Silently, WOODWARD watches. Now-- CUT TO: CADDY seated as before beside RAFFERTY. WOODWARD's voice come from behind him, and as CADDY turns, WOODWARD is seated one row back. WOODWARD Did you know to come because one of the other men involved in the break- in called you? CADDY (turning) There is no reason to assume other people were involved. WOODWARD Your clients were arrested with a walkie-talkie; they didn't need that to talk among themselves. CADDY looks at WOODWARD, turns back. CADDY (turning back) They are not my clients. WOODWARD You're a lawyer and you're here-- CADDY --I met one of the defendants, Mr. Barker, at a social occasion once-- (stops himself) --I have nothing more to say. WOODWARD (leaning forward as CADDY turns away again) A Miami social occasion? (explaining) Mr. Rafferty told me the Cubans were from Miami. CADDY (sighing) Barker's wife called me at three this morning; her husband apparently had told her to call if he hadn't called her by then. WOODWARD It was really nice of you to come, since you'd only met him once. CADDY Are you implying you don't believe me? WOODWARD I have nothing more to say. CADDY You don't mind getting on people's nerves, do you? WOODWARD considers this a moment. Then-- WOODWARD Nope. And on that word-- CUT TO: THE COURTROOM as without warning, it quiets. There is suddenly a tremendous air of expectancy, you can feel it. Now we see why as five men in dark business suits are led in; they've been stripped of belts, ties, and shoelaces. McCord is taller than the others. They stand, facing the JUDGE, backs to the audience. WOODWARD sits watching as the proceedings start, but it's hard to hear. He concentrates as the JUDGE starts speaking. JUDGE Will you please state your professions. The five men do not move or reply. Then, after a long pause, Barker says-- BARKER Anti-Communists. JUDGE Anti-Communists? (perplexed) That, sir, is not your average occupation. WOODWARD starts moving forward now, down an aisle, moving past kids and whores and all the rest, trying to hear what the hell's going on. At the front of the spectator's section is a fence-like wooden barricade about three feet high. As he approaches it-- The JUDGE indicates the bald burglar. JUDGE Your name, please. MCCORD James McCord. JUDGE Will you step forward, sir. (MCCORD obeys) WOODWARD at the bench is leaning forward, trying to hear but it's hard. JUDGE And what is your occupation, Mr. McCord? MCCORD (softly) Security consultant. JUDGE Where? MCCORD (softer) Government. Recently retired. JUDGE Where in government? MCCORD (we can't really make this out) ...Central... Intelligence... Agency... JUDGE (he can't either) Where? MCCORD (clearing his throat) The C.I.A. And on these words, ZOOM TO: CLOSE UP--WOODWARD leaning over the fence practically falling over it in a desperate straining effort to catch what's going on. WOODWARD (stunned) Holy shit. Now from the courtroom-- CUT TO: THOUSANDS AND THOUSANDS OF WASHINGTON POSTS. We are at the end of the press run, the papers are all assembled and being cabled and sent off by machine to various places. As the papers continue to roll past-- A UNION TYPE EMPLOYEE grabs a paper, looks at the front page. The Watergate story, headlined whatever it was headlined, is visible. The byline was by Alfred E. Lewis. The union type Post employee glances at the article-- UNION POST EMPLOYEE (reading half-aloud) "Five men, one of whom said he is a former employee..." (stops reading, gives a shrug) Schmucks. And he turns happily to the sports section-- CUT TO: A CLOSE UP OF HUNDRED DOLLAR BILLS. It's new money and looks as if it's been recently ironed. Someone is going through the cash, making a quick count. During this-- FIRST VOICE (V.O.) Hurry it, huh, Bachinski? BACHINSKI You said I could look at it-- PULL BACK TO REVEAL We're in a room in a police station and two men are present. One, a COP, is nervous as hell and constantly aware of the door. The other, BACHINSKI, is taking hurried notes in a reporter's type notebook as he examines the evidence. COP --I said look, not memorize-- BACHINSKI --almost done, give it a rest, all right... (and he looks at an address book, he stops) CUT TO: THE ADDRESS BOOK. Beside the name "Howard E. Hunt" is the notation "W.House." Now, BACHINSKI hurriedly opens the other book to the letter "H" and there is the same name, "Howard E. Hunt" and beside it, the letters, "W.H." COP (V.O.) What'd you find? BACHINSKI (V.O.) Beats me. These notebooks belonged to Cuban guys? COP (V.O.) S'right. BACHINSKI (V.O.) It's gotta mean either White House or whore house, one or the other. We HOLD on the HUNT name, and the address notations. Then-- CUT TO: WOODWARD'S APARTMENT - NIGHT. The phone rings, waking him. He fumbles for the phone and the light, finally gets them both. WOODWARD Bachinski? (reaches for a notebook) What?--hold it-- (gets it open, starts to write) --OK, go on, go on... CUT TO: A BOX OF MAALOX TABLETS. ROSENFELD is opening them, we're in his office, WOODWARD sits across the desk, holding the notebook we saw him writing in. ROSENFELD ...go on, go on... WOODWARD That's everything Bachinski had, I think it's worth following up. ROSENFELD Don't know; who the hell's Howard Hunt? (crunches tablets) It's probably nothing but check it out. Just go easy, it could be crazy Cubans. HOWARD SIMONS sticks his head in the office. SIMONS Anything? ROSENFELD Woodward's onto a new wrinkle with the break-in thing--absolute page one stuff-- SIMONS --in other words, you got nothing, you're thumbsucking. ROSENFELD (shrugs) Could develop. SIMONS Let me see what you get, but don't jump--The New York Times thinks it's crazy Cubans. He moves on. ROSENFELD turns quickly to WOODWARD. ROSENFELD OK, get on this W.House guy and do a better job then you did on McCord. WOODWARD I did all right on McCord. ROSENFELD Then how come the Associated Press were the ones found out that Mr. McCord is security coordinator for the Committee to Re-elect the President, otherwise known as CREEP? WOODWARD (getting it straight) The head of security for the reelection of a Republican President got caught bugging the national offices of the Democrats? What the hell does that mean? ROSENFELD (hasn't the foggiest) Mr. John Mitchell, the head of CREEP, says it means nothing. (reads) "...This man and the other people involved were not operating on either our behalf or with our consent. These is no place in our campaign or in the electoral process for this type of activity, and we will not forget it or condone it." WOODWARD (getting up) You can't believe that. ROSENFELD As a rough rule of thumb, as far as I can throw Bronco Nagurski, that's how much I trust John Mitchell... Now-- CUT TO: A MOON-FACED MAN RINGING A TRIANGLE. CUT TO: THE NEWSROOM as the triangle sound echoes. HOWARD SIMONS leaves large Managing Editor's office, walks past another office, knocks twice on the glass wall. Inside the Executive Editor's office, BEN BRADLEE sits. As SIMONS knocks, he turns, nods. He appears, for the moment, deep in thought. HARRY ROSENFELD on the opposite end of the room hurries out of his office, following a bunch of editors, all of them heading across the huge room. As he passes WOODWARD's desk ROSENFELD pauses. ROSENFELD What'd you get on W.House? WOODWARD (massaging his neck) Lotsa hints-- ROSENFELD (not happy) I can't sell hints to Simons-- (stops, looks at piece of yellow paper) --you called everyone you know? (WOODWARD makes a nod) Call someone you don't know. WOODWARD continues to rub his neck as ROSENFELD hurries off, all the editors still moving toward the place where the moon- faced man intermittently rings the triangle. WOODWARD picks up the sheet of yellow paper from his desk. Lined, legal-sized, it is crammed with names and numbers and addresses. They are in no neat order; looking at them it's almost like following a path; chicken tracks in ink. WOODWARD mutters "to hell with it" and reaches for a thick book, flips it open. NOW WE SEE THE BOOK: It's the Washington Phone Directory and we're in the W's. As WOODWARD's finger stops, we can see he's looking at the White HOuse entry number. There it is, just like your name and mine. Listed. Now WOODWARD starts to dial, visibly nervous, a fact he tries very hard to keep out of his voice tone. WHITE HOUSE OPERATOR (V.O.) White House. WOODWARD (casually) Howard Hunt, please. Throughout the following call, we stay on WOODWARD's face, hear the other voices. WHITE HOUSE OPERATOR (V.O.) Mr. Hunt does not answer. WOODWARD is delighted he's even there. WOODWARD Thanks, anyway-- And he's about to hang up, when-- WHITE HOUSE OPERATOR (V.O.) I'll bet he's in Mr. Colson's office. Let me connect you. SECRETARY (V.O.) Charles Colson's wire. WOODWARD (a little more excited) Howard Hunt, please. SECRETARY (V.O.) Mr. Hunt isn't here just now. WOODWARD Thanks, anyway. And he's about to hang up again when-- SECRETARY (V.O.) Have you tried Mullen and Company Public Relations? He works at Mullen and Company Public Relations as a writer. The number is 555-1313. I'm sorry I couldn't be more helpful. WOODWARD Listen, forget it. He hangs up, sits there. His hands are a little twitchy... HOLD. Now-- CUT TO: ROSENFELD hurrying (he always hurries) toward his office. WOODWARD, looking for something in his desk throughout this scene, speaks to him. WOODWARD Who's Charles Colson? ROSENFELD (stops dead) I would liken your query to being in Russia half a century ago and asking someone, "I understand who Lenin is and Trotsky I got too, but who's this yokel Stalin?" WOODWARD Who's Colson, Harry? ROSENFELD The most powerful man in America is President Nixon, probably you've heard his name. WOODWARD, unfazed by anything, continues to open drawers, close them, as ROSENFELD rolls on. ROSENFELD The second most powerful man is Robert Haldeman. Just below him are a trio: Mr. Erlichman is Haldeman's friend, and they protect the President from everybody which is why they are referred to as either The German Shepherds or the Berlin Wall. Mr. Mitchell we've already discussed. Mr. Colson is the President's special counsel. WOODWARD (rising) Thanks, Harry. (looks at ROSENFELD) Know anything about Colson? ROSENFELD Just that on his office wall there's a cartoon with a caption reading, "When you've got them by the balls, their hearts and minds will follow." WOODWARD nods, heads back toward the files as we CUT TO: WOODWARD AT HIS DESK dialing the phone. He's got the Colson file spread out now, and we see pictures of the man and articles the Post had done on him. But basically what we see is WOODWARD plugging away on the goddamn phone and you'd think his finger would fall off from all the dialing and you know his voice is tiring as this montage goes on, you can hear it grow raspy. But a lot of what a reporter does he does on the phone, and that's what we're compressing here. The dialing never stops, the voices are continuous. WOODWARD Hello, I'm Bob Woodward of the Washing Post and... (beat) Mullen and Company Public Relations? Could you tell me when you expect Mr. Hunt? (surprised) He is? HUNT (V.O.) Howard Hunt here. WOODWARD Hi, I'm Bob Woodward of the Post and-- HUNT (V.O.) (impatient) --yes, yes, what is it? WOODWARD I was just kind of wondering why your name and phone number were in the address books of two of the men arrested at Watergate? HUNT (V.O.) (blind panic) Good God! And he bangs the phone down sharply-- --more dialing SOUNDS. Now snatches of conversation-- WOODWARD I'm sorry to bother you, Mr. Bennett, but we're doing some investigating of one of your employees, Howard Hunt. BENNETT (V.O.) Well, if you've been doing some investigating then obviously it's no secret to you that Howard was with the C.I.A. WOODWARD (he hadn't known) No secret at all. More dialing. Then-- WOODWARD (tired, voice deeper) Hello, C.I.A. This is R.W. Woodward, of the Washington Post--get me Personnel-- Dialing again. WOODWARD's voice is showing genuine fatigue. WOODWARD Hi, I'm Bob Woodward of the Washington Post--and--what's that?--you've never heard of me?--I can't help that--you don't believe I'm with the Post?-- what do you want me to do, Madam, shout "extra--extra"? There is the SOUND of the phone being slammed down in his ear. Hard. Now-- CUT TO: ROSENFELD AND SIMONS approaching WOODWARD who is working at his desk. He has put in a lot of hours on this and looks it. ROSENFELD Whaddya got, whaddya got? WOODWARD Hunt is Colson's man-- (to SIMONS, explaining) --that's Charles Colson, Nixon's special counsel-- (SIMONS almost says something, decides against it) --they both went to Brown University-- (consulting his notes) --Hunt worked for the C.I.A. till '70, and this is on deep background, the FBI thinks he's involved with the break-in. SIMONS What else have you got? WOODWARD According to White House personnel, Hunt definitely works there as a consultant for Colson. But when I called the White House Press office, they said he hadn't worked there for three months. Then the P.R. guy said the weirdest thing to me. (reading) "I am convinced that neither Mr. Colson nor anyone else at the White House had any knowledge of, or participation in, this deplorable incident at the Democratic National Committee." He looks up at them. SIMONS Isn't that what you'd expect them to say? WOODWARD Absolutely. ROSENFELD So? WOODWARD (he's got something and he knows it) I never asked them about Watergate. I only said what were Hunt's duties at the White House. They volunteered that he was innocent when nobody asked was he guilty. ROSENFELD (to SIMONS) I think we got a White House consultant linked to the bugging. SIMONS (nods) Just be careful how you write it. CUT TO: WOODWARD TYPING LIKE MAD, makes a mistake, corrects it, types on muttering to himself, and-- CUT TO: ROSENFELD IN HIS OFFICE munching a handful of Maalox tablets and-- CUT TO: WOODWARD taking a sheet from his typewriter, hurrying off and-- CUT TO: ROSENFELD taking the sheet from WOODWARD-- WOODWARD Here's the first take-- ROSENFELD nods, shows him out and-- CUT TO: WOODWARD BACK AT HIS MACHINE typing faster then before, makes another mistake, starts to correct it, glances around and-- CUT TO: ROSENFELD IN HIS OFFICE gesturing to somebody but not WOODWARD and-- CUT TO: WOODWARD watching as BERNSTEIN appears in view from behind the wide pillar by WOODWARD's desk, heads toward ROSENFELD's office. WOODWARD shrugs, goes back to his typing, makes a typo immediately, glances over toward ROSENFELD's office, freezes as we-- CUT TO: ROSENFELD handing some papers to BERNSTEIN. They look, from this distance, suspiciously like WOODWARD's story. CUT TO: BERNSTEIN hurrying out of ROSENFELD's office, and-- CUT TO: WOODWARD watching BERNSTEIN until he disappears out of sight behind the pillar. WOODWARD hesitates, finally goes back to his typing, makes another mistake, fixes it, makes still another, his temper is shortly to make itself known-- CUT TO: ROSENFELD as WOODWARD hands him another sheet of paper. WOODWARD This is all of it, Harry. ROSENFELD NODS, takes it, immediately starts to read as we-- CUT TO: WOODWARD AT HIS DESK watching as ROSENFELD gestures again. There is a pause. Then BERNSTEIN appears from behind the pillar and-- CUT TO: ROSENFELD handing BERNSTEIN another sheet of paper. BERSTEIN nods, takes it, walks back toward his desk, disappears behind the pillar again. WOODWARD is starting to steam. Now-- CUT TO: BERNSTEIN AT HIS DESK typing magnificently, his hands rising and falling like Rubinstein's. Behind him is the pillar and for a moment there is nothing--then, very slowly, a figure peers out from behind the pillar--it is WOODWARD. He watches. BERNSTEIN continues to type, then after a moment, rests, thinks, shifts around in his chair and as his glance starts toward the pillar-- CUT TO: THE PILLAR. WOODWARD is gone. CUT TO: BERNSTEIN typing madly away. THE PILLAR. WOODWARD is visible again, eyes very bright... now-- CUT TO: BERNSTEIN finishing typing, his hands moving majestically. WOODWARD comes up behind him, stands looking a second. Then-- WOODWARD We have to talk. BERNSTEIN nods, grabs the papers both that he's been typing and that he's been copying from. And as he rises-- PAN TO: WOODWARD AND BERNSTEIN walking silently out of the newsroom then turning left down a darker corridor, passing bulletin boards and wall lockers and it's all nice and quiet as they amble on, nodding to the few people they pass on their way and after a while they turn right and enter the coffee lounge which is empty; the walls are lined with Norman Rockwell reproductions and various kinds of vending machines are visible, selling coffee or milk or fruit or sandwiches and there are some plastic tables and chairs and the minute they are alone, the silence ends. WOODWARD What the hell were you doing rewriting my story-- BERNSTEIN --I sure couldn't hurt it, could I?-- WOODWARD --it was fine the way it was-- BERNSTEIN --it was bullshit the way it was-- WOODWARD --I have to stand here and listen to the staff correspondent from Virginia?-- BERNSTEIN (a sore subject) --what have you been here, nine months?--I been in this business since I was sixteen-- WOODWARD --and you've had some fucking meteoric rise, that's for sure--by the time you turn forty you might be the head of the Montana bureau-- BERNSTEIN --you only got the job because both you and Bradlee went to Yale-- WOODWARD --Bradlee went to Harvard-- BERNSTEIN --they're all the same, all those Ivy League places--they teach you about striped ties and suddenly you're smart-- WOODWARD --I'm smart enough to know my story was solid-- BERNSTEIN --mine's better-- WOODWARD --no way-- BERNSTEIN (handing them over) --read 'em both and you'll see-- And as WOODWARD glances at the two stories-- CUT TO: BERNSTEIN watching. Now-- CUT TO: WOODWARD. He glances from one story to the other. Then, disconsolately-- WOODWARD ...crap... And he sinks down in a chair. BERNSTEIN Is mine better? WOODWARD nods. WOODWARD (handing the stories back) What is it about my writing that's so rotten? BERNSTEIN (as he exits) Mainly it has to do with your choice of words. And as he goes, leaving WOODWARD just sitting there-- CUT TO: BERSTEIN, re-entering the newsroom, returning to his desk. He starts to insert some papers into his typewriter, hesitates, lights a cigarette. He inhales, as, behind him, WOODWARD briefly is visible going to his desk behind the pillar. Finally BERNSTEIN inserts the paper, starts to type as WOODWARD (V.O.) (from behind the pillar) Carl? BERNSTEIN (turns) Yeah? WOODWARD (pushing his chair briefly into view) Fuck you, Carl. And as he rolls forward again, out of sight-- CUT TO: RICHARD NIXON ON THE TUBE. (It's the June 22 Press Conference.) He talks on about something, it doesn't matter exactly what here, the point is, it should include that strange smile of his that kept appearing when the man should not have been smiling. Hints of pressure maybe, that's all, and once it's established-- PULL BACK TO REVEAL: WOODWARD sitting alone, gloomily staring at the set. We're in the Post Cafeteria, it's the next morning, and the place is pretty much empty. He sips the coffee, it tastes rotten. BERNSTEIN moves up behind him, carrying a cup of coffee of his own. He stands by WOODWARD briefly. BERNSTEIN You heard? (WOODWARD glances up) They put us both on the break-in thing. Simons liked the way we worked together. (WOODWARD nods, BERNSTEIN sits down) Listen, I'm sorry I said your story was bullshit. WOODWARD It's OK; I'm sorry I called you a failure. BERNSTEIN Forget it, the main thing-- (stops) --did you call me a failure? WOODWARD I was sure trying. CUT TO: WOODWARD, BERNSTEIN, AND NIXON. The way it's shot, it's almost as if they're watching each other; NIXON staring out from the TV set, answering questions. WOODWARD and BERNSTEIN sip coffee. We don't know yet--or better, they don't know it yet, but these are our adversaries. CUT TO: WOODWARD AND BERNSTEIN, without NIXON now. They sit at the table. Occasionally, NIXON is audible in the background. WOODWARD All right, what do we know? BERNSTEIN Let me lay a little theory on you-- WOODWARD (cutting him off) --I'm not interested in theory. What do we know? For example, Hunt's disappeared. BERNSTEIN Well, Barker tried to get blueprints of the Miami Convention Center and the air-conditioning system. WOODWARD And McCord was carrying an application for college press credentials for the Democratic convention. (to BERNSTEIN) The Times has got to be full of it-- it can't be crazy Cubans. BERNSTEIN What, though? (points to Nixon) It can't be the Republicans--he'd never allow something as stupid as this, not when he's gonna slaughter McGovern anyway. WOODWARD Right. Nixon didn't get where he got by being dumb-- (stops abruptly) --listen, that was a Watergate question-- CUT TO: NIXON ON THE TUBE. Serious now. NIXON The White House has had no involvement whatever in this particular incident. CUT TO: WOODWARD AND BERNSTEIN staring at the set thinking... CUT TO: WOODWARD AND BERNSTEIN walking toward BERSTEIN'S desk. WOODWARD Hey? BERNSTEIN Hmm. WOODWARD What do you think he meant, this particular incident? Were there others? How would we find out? You know anyone important? BERNSTEIN (sits, shakes his head) I lived here all my life, I got a million contacts, but they're all bus boys and bellhops. The reporter KEN RINGLE at the next desk watches them a moment. Then-- RINGLE What do you need? BERNSTEIN Someone inside the White House would be nice. RINGLE (writes down phone number) Call her. She worked for Colson, if that's any help. As BERNSTEIN grabs for the phone-- CUT TO: A SECRETARIAL POOL IN A LARGE OFFICE. BERNSTEIN is talking off to one side with an attractive girl. GIRL Kenny's crazy, I never worked for Colson, I worked for an assistant. Colson was big on secrets anyway. Even if I had worked for him, I wouldn't have known anything. BERNSTEIN Nothing at all you can remember? SECRETARY (headshake) Sorry. (pause) Now if it was Hunt you were interested in-- BERNSTEIN --Howard Hunt? SECRETARY Sure. Him I liked, he was a very nice person. Secretive too, traveled all over, but a decent man. BERNSTEIN Any idea what he did? SECRETARY Oh, the scuttlebutt for awhile was he was investigating Kennedy-- BERNSTEIN --Teddy Kennedy? SECRETARY Sure. I remember seeing a book about Chappaquiddick on his desk and he was always getting material out of the White House Library and the Library of Congress and-- And as

experiencing

How many times the word 'experiencing' appears in the text?

All the President's Men Script at IMSDb. var _gaq = _gaq || []; _gaq.push(['_setAccount', 'UA-3785444-3']); _gaq.push(['_trackPageview']); (function() { var ga = document.createElement('script'); ga.type = 'text/javascript'; ga.async = true; ga.src = ('https:' == document.location.protocol ? 'https://ssl' : 'http://www') + '.google-analytics.com/ga.js'; var s = document.getElementsByTagName('script')[0]; s.parentNode.insertBefore(ga, s); })(); The Internet Movie Script Database (IMSDb) The web's largest movie script resource! Search IMSDb Alphabetical # A B C D E F G H I J K L M N O P Q R S T U V W X Y Z Genre Action Adventure Animation Comedy Crime Drama Family Fantasy Film-Noir Horror Musical Mystery Romance Sci-Fi Short Thriller War Western Sponsor TV Transcripts Futurama Seinfeld South Park Stargate SG-1 Lost The 4400 International French scripts Movie Software Rip from DVD Rip Blu-Ray Latest Comments Star Wars: Revenge of the Sith10/10 Star Wars: The Force Awakens10/10 Batman Begins9/10 Collateral10/10 Jackie Brown8/10 Movie Chat Message Yell ! ALL SCRIPTS ALL THE PRESIDENT'S MEN - by William Goldman if (window!= top) top.location.href=location.href // --> "ALL THE PRESIDENT'S MEN" by William Goldman Based on the novel "All The President's Men" by Carl Bernstein and Bob Woodward Pre-rehearsal version March, 1975 Start with as few credits as possible. When they're over-- FADE IN ON: A TINY BLACK PIECE OF TAPE. We see it in the center of the large, dimly lit screen. As the tape is pressed around a door-- BEGIN THE BREAK-IN SEQUENCE. It's a major piece of action, running maybe five minutes and it's all as detailed and accurate as we can make it, with as many "if only's" included as possible. ("If only" the tape had been attached up and down instead of around the door, Wills wouldn't have spotted it and alerted the police; "if only" the first police car called had gone to investigate, Baldwin, watching from the Howard Johnson Motor Inn, would have seen their uniforms and radioed Hunt and Liddy in time for them to have gotten to the five burglars and then safely away.) The break-in ends when Leeper arrests the five men. He thought he only had one guy, so when ten hands were raised he was surprised. The hands are all encased in Playtex rubber surgical gloves. HOLD on the hands a moment; then-- GO TO: A DARK APARTMENT. The phone rings. WOODWARD fumbles for the receiver, turns on the bed light. He listens a moment. WOODWARD No, no trouble, Harry, be right down. (he hangs up) Son of a bitch. He lies back. The apartment is one room, a small terrace beyond. Not much of a place. WOODWARD lies still, staring at the ceiling. He blinks, blinks again. HOLD... CUT TO: THE ENORMOUS FIFTH FLOOR OF THE WASHINGTON POST. It looks, early of a Saturday morning, pretty deserted. Those reporters that are around are young, bright, and presently involved in nothing more taxing than drinking coffee and thumbing through the papers. HARRY ROSENFELD surveys the scene from his office doorway as WOODWARD approaches, hangs his coat at his desk, not far from where ROSENFELD is standing. ROSENFELD Where's that cheery face we've come to know and love? WOODWARD You call me in on my day off because some idiots have broken into local Democratic Headquarters--tell me, Harry, why should I be smiling? ROSENFELD As usual, that keen mind of yours has pegged the situation perfectly. (chomps on some Maalox tablets) Except (a) it wasn't local Democratic Headquarters, it was National Democratic Headquarters-- (WOODWARD is surprised-- he hadn't known) --and (b) these weren't just any idiots, these were special idiots, seeing as when they were arrested at 2:30 this morning, they were all wearing business suits and Playtex gloves and were carrying-- (consults a piece of paper) --a walkie-talkie, forty rolls of film, cameras, lock picks, pen-sized tear gas guns, plus various bugging devices. (puts paper down) Not to mention over two thousand dollars, mostly in sequenced hundred dollar bills. WOODWARD Preliminary hearing at Superior Courthouse? ROSENFELD (nods) Two o'clock, work the phones 'til you go. CUT TO: THE CRIMINAL COURTS BUILDING. WOODWARD hurries along, goes inside as we CUT TO: A CORRIDOR INSIDE. WOODWARD comes down it, looks around, sees a door marked "Counsel's Offices" and heads toward it. Now-- CUT TO: A CLERK AT A DESK as WOODWARD comes up. Behind them, two lawyers are clearly angry about something, talking and gesticulating to each other. WOODWARD (to the COUNSEL'S CLERK) Could you give me the names of the lawyers for the men arrested in the Watergate. CLERK These two were appointed-- (indicates the angry men) --only now it turns out the burglars got their own counsel. (he starts to laugh) FIRST ANGRY LAWYER (to CLERK) When you gonna stop thinking it's so funny. SECOND ANGRY LAWYER (To CLERK) We wouldda done a terrific job protecting those guys. (neither lawyer, by the way, is Clarence Darrow) FIRST ANGRY LAWYER You think we're not as good as some hotshot fancy lawyer?-- CUT TO: THE COURTROOM and business is booming. Muggers, pimp, hookers, their families and friends. In the scene that follows, a constant counterpoint is what's going on up at the front as an endless succession of petty criminals caught the previous night, the aforementioned muggers, pimps, and hookers, are shuttled in, given a quick appearance before a JUDGE who sets bond, and then shuttled out. In the audience, one man stands out--DOUGLAS CADDY. He is extremely well-dressed and obviously successful. Beside him sits another smaller man, who is unshaven and squints. WOODWARD moves in, sits alongside CADDY. WOODWARD Mr. Caddy? My name's Bob Woodward, I'm from the Post and I wanted to ask about how you happened to come on this case-- CADDY --I'm not here. WOODWARD (nods) OK. He takes out a small notebook, writes, muttering aloud as he does. WOODWARD Douglas Caddy, the attorney of record, when questioned about his presence in the courtroom, denied he was in the courtroom, "I'm not here," Mr. Caddy said. CADDY (impatiently) Clearly, I am here, but only as an individual, I'm not the attorney of record. (indicating unshaven man) Mr. Rafferty has that position. Whatever you want, you'll have to get from him, I have nothing more to say. And as he gets up, walks off-- CUT TO: THE WATER FOUNTAIN IN THE CORRIDOR. There is a small line. CADDY waits at the end of it. WOODWARD (moving in behind him) Mr. Rafferty was very helpful. Four Cuban-Americans and this other man, James McCord. CADDY Look, I told you inside-- WOODWARD --you have nothing more to say, I understand that. CADDY turns away; WOODWARD goes right on. WOODWARD What I don't understand is how you got here. CADDY I assure you, there's nothing mysterious involved. WOODWARD Probably you're right, but a little while ago, I was talking to a couple of lawyers who'd been assigned to represent the burglars. CADDY So? WOODWARD Well, they never would have been assigned if anyone had known the burglars had arranged for their own counsel. And that could only mean the burglars didn't arrange for their own counsel--they never even made a phone call. (looks at CADDY) So if they didn't ask for you to be here, how did you know to come? Without a word, CADDY turns, leaves the line without getting a drink. Silently, WOODWARD watches. Now-- CUT TO: CADDY seated as before beside RAFFERTY. WOODWARD's voice come from behind him, and as CADDY turns, WOODWARD is seated one row back. WOODWARD Did you know to come because one of the other men involved in the break- in called you? CADDY (turning) There is no reason to assume other people were involved. WOODWARD Your clients were arrested with a walkie-talkie; they didn't need that to talk among themselves. CADDY looks at WOODWARD, turns back. CADDY (turning back) They are not my clients. WOODWARD You're a lawyer and you're here-- CADDY --I met one of the defendants, Mr. Barker, at a social occasion once-- (stops himself) --I have nothing more to say. WOODWARD (leaning forward as CADDY turns away again) A Miami social occasion? (explaining) Mr. Rafferty told me the Cubans were from Miami. CADDY (sighing) Barker's wife called me at three this morning; her husband apparently had told her to call if he hadn't called her by then. WOODWARD It was really nice of you to come, since you'd only met him once. CADDY Are you implying you don't believe me? WOODWARD I have nothing more to say. CADDY You don't mind getting on people's nerves, do you? WOODWARD considers this a moment. Then-- WOODWARD Nope. And on that word-- CUT TO: THE COURTROOM as without warning, it quiets. There is suddenly a tremendous air of expectancy, you can feel it. Now we see why as five men in dark business suits are led in; they've been stripped of belts, ties, and shoelaces. McCord is taller than the others. They stand, facing the JUDGE, backs to the audience. WOODWARD sits watching as the proceedings start, but it's hard to hear. He concentrates as the JUDGE starts speaking. JUDGE Will you please state your professions. The five men do not move or reply. Then, after a long pause, Barker says-- BARKER Anti-Communists. JUDGE Anti-Communists? (perplexed) That, sir, is not your average occupation. WOODWARD starts moving forward now, down an aisle, moving past kids and whores and all the rest, trying to hear what the hell's going on. At the front of the spectator's section is a fence-like wooden barricade about three feet high. As he approaches it-- The JUDGE indicates the bald burglar. JUDGE Your name, please. MCCORD James McCord. JUDGE Will you step forward, sir. (MCCORD obeys) WOODWARD at the bench is leaning forward, trying to hear but it's hard. JUDGE And what is your occupation, Mr. McCord? MCCORD (softly) Security consultant. JUDGE Where? MCCORD (softer) Government. Recently retired. JUDGE Where in government? MCCORD (we can't really make this out) ...Central... Intelligence... Agency... JUDGE (he can't either) Where? MCCORD (clearing his throat) The C.I.A. And on these words, ZOOM TO: CLOSE UP--WOODWARD leaning over the fence practically falling over it in a desperate straining effort to catch what's going on. WOODWARD (stunned) Holy shit. Now from the courtroom-- CUT TO: THOUSANDS AND THOUSANDS OF WASHINGTON POSTS. We are at the end of the press run, the papers are all assembled and being cabled and sent off by machine to various places. As the papers continue to roll past-- A UNION TYPE EMPLOYEE grabs a paper, looks at the front page. The Watergate story, headlined whatever it was headlined, is visible. The byline was by Alfred E. Lewis. The union type Post employee glances at the article-- UNION POST EMPLOYEE (reading half-aloud) "Five men, one of whom said he is a former employee..." (stops reading, gives a shrug) Schmucks. And he turns happily to the sports section-- CUT TO: A CLOSE UP OF HUNDRED DOLLAR BILLS. It's new money and looks as if it's been recently ironed. Someone is going through the cash, making a quick count. During this-- FIRST VOICE (V.O.) Hurry it, huh, Bachinski? BACHINSKI You said I could look at it-- PULL BACK TO REVEAL We're in a room in a police station and two men are present. One, a COP, is nervous as hell and constantly aware of the door. The other, BACHINSKI, is taking hurried notes in a reporter's type notebook as he examines the evidence. COP --I said look, not memorize-- BACHINSKI --almost done, give it a rest, all right... (and he looks at an address book, he stops) CUT TO: THE ADDRESS BOOK. Beside the name "Howard E. Hunt" is the notation "W.House." Now, BACHINSKI hurriedly opens the other book to the letter "H" and there is the same name, "Howard E. Hunt" and beside it, the letters, "W.H." COP (V.O.) What'd you find? BACHINSKI (V.O.) Beats me. These notebooks belonged to Cuban guys? COP (V.O.) S'right. BACHINSKI (V.O.) It's gotta mean either White House or whore house, one or the other. We HOLD on the HUNT name, and the address notations. Then-- CUT TO: WOODWARD'S APARTMENT - NIGHT. The phone rings, waking him. He fumbles for the phone and the light, finally gets them both. WOODWARD Bachinski? (reaches for a notebook) What?--hold it-- (gets it open, starts to write) --OK, go on, go on... CUT TO: A BOX OF MAALOX TABLETS. ROSENFELD is opening them, we're in his office, WOODWARD sits across the desk, holding the notebook we saw him writing in. ROSENFELD ...go on, go on... WOODWARD That's everything Bachinski had, I think it's worth following up. ROSENFELD Don't know; who the hell's Howard Hunt? (crunches tablets) It's probably nothing but check it out. Just go easy, it could be crazy Cubans. HOWARD SIMONS sticks his head in the office. SIMONS Anything? ROSENFELD Woodward's onto a new wrinkle with the break-in thing--absolute page one stuff-- SIMONS --in other words, you got nothing, you're thumbsucking. ROSENFELD (shrugs) Could develop. SIMONS Let me see what you get, but don't jump--The New York Times thinks it's crazy Cubans. He moves on. ROSENFELD turns quickly to WOODWARD. ROSENFELD OK, get on this W.House guy and do a better job then you did on McCord. WOODWARD I did all right on McCord. ROSENFELD Then how come the Associated Press were the ones found out that Mr. McCord is security coordinator for the Committee to Re-elect the President, otherwise known as CREEP? WOODWARD (getting it straight) The head of security for the reelection of a Republican President got caught bugging the national offices of the Democrats? What the hell does that mean? ROSENFELD (hasn't the foggiest) Mr. John Mitchell, the head of CREEP, says it means nothing. (reads) "...This man and the other people involved were not operating on either our behalf or with our consent. These is no place in our campaign or in the electoral process for this type of activity, and we will not forget it or condone it." WOODWARD (getting up) You can't believe that. ROSENFELD As a rough rule of thumb, as far as I can throw Bronco Nagurski, that's how much I trust John Mitchell... Now-- CUT TO: A MOON-FACED MAN RINGING A TRIANGLE. CUT TO: THE NEWSROOM as the triangle sound echoes. HOWARD SIMONS leaves large Managing Editor's office, walks past another office, knocks twice on the glass wall. Inside the Executive Editor's office, BEN BRADLEE sits. As SIMONS knocks, he turns, nods. He appears, for the moment, deep in thought. HARRY ROSENFELD on the opposite end of the room hurries out of his office, following a bunch of editors, all of them heading across the huge room. As he passes WOODWARD's desk ROSENFELD pauses. ROSENFELD What'd you get on W.House? WOODWARD (massaging his neck) Lotsa hints-- ROSENFELD (not happy) I can't sell hints to Simons-- (stops, looks at piece of yellow paper) --you called everyone you know? (WOODWARD makes a nod) Call someone you don't know. WOODWARD continues to rub his neck as ROSENFELD hurries off, all the editors still moving toward the place where the moon- faced man intermittently rings the triangle. WOODWARD picks up the sheet of yellow paper from his desk. Lined, legal-sized, it is crammed with names and numbers and addresses. They are in no neat order; looking at them it's almost like following a path; chicken tracks in ink. WOODWARD mutters "to hell with it" and reaches for a thick book, flips it open. NOW WE SEE THE BOOK: It's the Washington Phone Directory and we're in the W's. As WOODWARD's finger stops, we can see he's looking at the White HOuse entry number. There it is, just like your name and mine. Listed. Now WOODWARD starts to dial, visibly nervous, a fact he tries very hard to keep out of his voice tone. WHITE HOUSE OPERATOR (V.O.) White House. WOODWARD (casually) Howard Hunt, please. Throughout the following call, we stay on WOODWARD's face, hear the other voices. WHITE HOUSE OPERATOR (V.O.) Mr. Hunt does not answer. WOODWARD is delighted he's even there. WOODWARD Thanks, anyway-- And he's about to hang up, when-- WHITE HOUSE OPERATOR (V.O.) I'll bet he's in Mr. Colson's office. Let me connect you. SECRETARY (V.O.) Charles Colson's wire. WOODWARD (a little more excited) Howard Hunt, please. SECRETARY (V.O.) Mr. Hunt isn't here just now. WOODWARD Thanks, anyway. And he's about to hang up again when-- SECRETARY (V.O.) Have you tried Mullen and Company Public Relations? He works at Mullen and Company Public Relations as a writer. The number is 555-1313. I'm sorry I couldn't be more helpful. WOODWARD Listen, forget it. He hangs up, sits there. His hands are a little twitchy... HOLD. Now-- CUT TO: ROSENFELD hurrying (he always hurries) toward his office. WOODWARD, looking for something in his desk throughout this scene, speaks to him. WOODWARD Who's Charles Colson? ROSENFELD (stops dead) I would liken your query to being in Russia half a century ago and asking someone, "I understand who Lenin is and Trotsky I got too, but who's this yokel Stalin?" WOODWARD Who's Colson, Harry? ROSENFELD The most powerful man in America is President Nixon, probably you've heard his name. WOODWARD, unfazed by anything, continues to open drawers, close them, as ROSENFELD rolls on. ROSENFELD The second most powerful man is Robert Haldeman. Just below him are a trio: Mr. Erlichman is Haldeman's friend, and they protect the President from everybody which is why they are referred to as either The German Shepherds or the Berlin Wall. Mr. Mitchell we've already discussed. Mr. Colson is the President's special counsel. WOODWARD (rising) Thanks, Harry. (looks at ROSENFELD) Know anything about Colson? ROSENFELD Just that on his office wall there's a cartoon with a caption reading, "When you've got them by the balls, their hearts and minds will follow." WOODWARD nods, heads back toward the files as we CUT TO: WOODWARD AT HIS DESK dialing the phone. He's got the Colson file spread out now, and we see pictures of the man and articles the Post had done on him. But basically what we see is WOODWARD plugging away on the goddamn phone and you'd think his finger would fall off from all the dialing and you know his voice is tiring as this montage goes on, you can hear it grow raspy. But a lot of what a reporter does he does on the phone, and that's what we're compressing here. The dialing never stops, the voices are continuous. WOODWARD Hello, I'm Bob Woodward of the Washing Post and... (beat) Mullen and Company Public Relations? Could you tell me when you expect Mr. Hunt? (surprised) He is? HUNT (V.O.) Howard Hunt here. WOODWARD Hi, I'm Bob Woodward of the Post and-- HUNT (V.O.) (impatient) --yes, yes, what is it? WOODWARD I was just kind of wondering why your name and phone number were in the address books of two of the men arrested at Watergate? HUNT (V.O.) (blind panic) Good God! And he bangs the phone down sharply-- --more dialing SOUNDS. Now snatches of conversation-- WOODWARD I'm sorry to bother you, Mr. Bennett, but we're doing some investigating of one of your employees, Howard Hunt. BENNETT (V.O.) Well, if you've been doing some investigating then obviously it's no secret to you that Howard was with the C.I.A. WOODWARD (he hadn't known) No secret at all. More dialing. Then-- WOODWARD (tired, voice deeper) Hello, C.I.A. This is R.W. Woodward, of the Washington Post--get me Personnel-- Dialing again. WOODWARD's voice is showing genuine fatigue. WOODWARD Hi, I'm Bob Woodward of the Washington Post--and--what's that?--you've never heard of me?--I can't help that--you don't believe I'm with the Post?-- what do you want me to do, Madam, shout "extra--extra"? There is the SOUND of the phone being slammed down in his ear. Hard. Now-- CUT TO: ROSENFELD AND SIMONS approaching WOODWARD who is working at his desk. He has put in a lot of hours on this and looks it. ROSENFELD Whaddya got, whaddya got? WOODWARD Hunt is Colson's man-- (to SIMONS, explaining) --that's Charles Colson, Nixon's special counsel-- (SIMONS almost says something, decides against it) --they both went to Brown University-- (consulting his notes) --Hunt worked for the C.I.A. till '70, and this is on deep background, the FBI thinks he's involved with the break-in. SIMONS What else have you got? WOODWARD According to White House personnel, Hunt definitely works there as a consultant for Colson. But when I called the White House Press office, they said he hadn't worked there for three months. Then the P.R. guy said the weirdest thing to me. (reading) "I am convinced that neither Mr. Colson nor anyone else at the White House had any knowledge of, or participation in, this deplorable incident at the Democratic National Committee." He looks up at them. SIMONS Isn't that what you'd expect them to say? WOODWARD Absolutely. ROSENFELD So? WOODWARD (he's got something and he knows it) I never asked them about Watergate. I only said what were Hunt's duties at the White House. They volunteered that he was innocent when nobody asked was he guilty. ROSENFELD (to SIMONS) I think we got a White House consultant linked to the bugging. SIMONS (nods) Just be careful how you write it. CUT TO: WOODWARD TYPING LIKE MAD, makes a mistake, corrects it, types on muttering to himself, and-- CUT TO: ROSENFELD IN HIS OFFICE munching a handful of Maalox tablets and-- CUT TO: WOODWARD taking a sheet from his typewriter, hurrying off and-- CUT TO: ROSENFELD taking the sheet from WOODWARD-- WOODWARD Here's the first take-- ROSENFELD nods, shows him out and-- CUT TO: WOODWARD BACK AT HIS MACHINE typing faster then before, makes another mistake, starts to correct it, glances around and-- CUT TO: ROSENFELD IN HIS OFFICE gesturing to somebody but not WOODWARD and-- CUT TO: WOODWARD watching as BERNSTEIN appears in view from behind the wide pillar by WOODWARD's desk, heads toward ROSENFELD's office. WOODWARD shrugs, goes back to his typing, makes a typo immediately, glances over toward ROSENFELD's office, freezes as we-- CUT TO: ROSENFELD handing some papers to BERNSTEIN. They look, from this distance, suspiciously like WOODWARD's story. CUT TO: BERNSTEIN hurrying out of ROSENFELD's office, and-- CUT TO: WOODWARD watching BERNSTEIN until he disappears out of sight behind the pillar. WOODWARD hesitates, finally goes back to his typing, makes another mistake, fixes it, makes still another, his temper is shortly to make itself known-- CUT TO: ROSENFELD as WOODWARD hands him another sheet of paper. WOODWARD This is all of it, Harry. ROSENFELD NODS, takes it, immediately starts to read as we-- CUT TO: WOODWARD AT HIS DESK watching as ROSENFELD gestures again. There is a pause. Then BERNSTEIN appears from behind the pillar and-- CUT TO: ROSENFELD handing BERNSTEIN another sheet of paper. BERSTEIN nods, takes it, walks back toward his desk, disappears behind the pillar again. WOODWARD is starting to steam. Now-- CUT TO: BERNSTEIN AT HIS DESK typing magnificently, his hands rising and falling like Rubinstein's. Behind him is the pillar and for a moment there is nothing--then, very slowly, a figure peers out from behind the pillar--it is WOODWARD. He watches. BERNSTEIN continues to type, then after a moment, rests, thinks, shifts around in his chair and as his glance starts toward the pillar-- CUT TO: THE PILLAR. WOODWARD is gone. CUT TO: BERNSTEIN typing madly away. THE PILLAR. WOODWARD is visible again, eyes very bright... now-- CUT TO: BERNSTEIN finishing typing, his hands moving majestically. WOODWARD comes up behind him, stands looking a second. Then-- WOODWARD We have to talk. BERNSTEIN nods, grabs the papers both that he's been typing and that he's been copying from. And as he rises-- PAN TO: WOODWARD AND BERNSTEIN walking silently out of the newsroom then turning left down a darker corridor, passing bulletin boards and wall lockers and it's all nice and quiet as they amble on, nodding to the few people they pass on their way and after a while they turn right and enter the coffee lounge which is empty; the walls are lined with Norman Rockwell reproductions and various kinds of vending machines are visible, selling coffee or milk or fruit or sandwiches and there are some plastic tables and chairs and the minute they are alone, the silence ends. WOODWARD What the hell were you doing rewriting my story-- BERNSTEIN --I sure couldn't hurt it, could I?-- WOODWARD --it was fine the way it was-- BERNSTEIN --it was bullshit the way it was-- WOODWARD --I have to stand here and listen to the staff correspondent from Virginia?-- BERNSTEIN (a sore subject) --what have you been here, nine months?--I been in this business since I was sixteen-- WOODWARD --and you've had some fucking meteoric rise, that's for sure--by the time you turn forty you might be the head of the Montana bureau-- BERNSTEIN --you only got the job because both you and Bradlee went to Yale-- WOODWARD --Bradlee went to Harvard-- BERNSTEIN --they're all the same, all those Ivy League places--they teach you about striped ties and suddenly you're smart-- WOODWARD --I'm smart enough to know my story was solid-- BERNSTEIN --mine's better-- WOODWARD --no way-- BERNSTEIN (handing them over) --read 'em both and you'll see-- And as WOODWARD glances at the two stories-- CUT TO: BERNSTEIN watching. Now-- CUT TO: WOODWARD. He glances from one story to the other. Then, disconsolately-- WOODWARD ...crap... And he sinks down in a chair. BERNSTEIN Is mine better? WOODWARD nods. WOODWARD (handing the stories back) What is it about my writing that's so rotten? BERNSTEIN (as he exits) Mainly it has to do with your choice of words. And as he goes, leaving WOODWARD just sitting there-- CUT TO: BERSTEIN, re-entering the newsroom, returning to his desk. He starts to insert some papers into his typewriter, hesitates, lights a cigarette. He inhales, as, behind him, WOODWARD briefly is visible going to his desk behind the pillar. Finally BERNSTEIN inserts the paper, starts to type as WOODWARD (V.O.) (from behind the pillar) Carl? BERNSTEIN (turns) Yeah? WOODWARD (pushing his chair briefly into view) Fuck you, Carl. And as he rolls forward again, out of sight-- CUT TO: RICHARD NIXON ON THE TUBE. (It's the June 22 Press Conference.) He talks on about something, it doesn't matter exactly what here, the point is, it should include that strange smile of his that kept appearing when the man should not have been smiling. Hints of pressure maybe, that's all, and once it's established-- PULL BACK TO REVEAL: WOODWARD sitting alone, gloomily staring at the set. We're in the Post Cafeteria, it's the next morning, and the place is pretty much empty. He sips the coffee, it tastes rotten. BERNSTEIN moves up behind him, carrying a cup of coffee of his own. He stands by WOODWARD briefly. BERNSTEIN You heard? (WOODWARD glances up) They put us both on the break-in thing. Simons liked the way we worked together. (WOODWARD nods, BERNSTEIN sits down) Listen, I'm sorry I said your story was bullshit. WOODWARD It's OK; I'm sorry I called you a failure. BERNSTEIN Forget it, the main thing-- (stops) --did you call me a failure? WOODWARD I was sure trying. CUT TO: WOODWARD, BERNSTEIN, AND NIXON. The way it's shot, it's almost as if they're watching each other; NIXON staring out from the TV set, answering questions. WOODWARD and BERNSTEIN sip coffee. We don't know yet--or better, they don't know it yet, but these are our adversaries. CUT TO: WOODWARD AND BERNSTEIN, without NIXON now. They sit at the table. Occasionally, NIXON is audible in the background. WOODWARD All right, what do we know? BERNSTEIN Let me lay a little theory on you-- WOODWARD (cutting him off) --I'm not interested in theory. What do we know? For example, Hunt's disappeared. BERNSTEIN Well, Barker tried to get blueprints of the Miami Convention Center and the air-conditioning system. WOODWARD And McCord was carrying an application for college press credentials for the Democratic convention. (to BERNSTEIN) The Times has got to be full of it-- it can't be crazy Cubans. BERNSTEIN What, though? (points to Nixon) It can't be the Republicans--he'd never allow something as stupid as this, not when he's gonna slaughter McGovern anyway. WOODWARD Right. Nixon didn't get where he got by being dumb-- (stops abruptly) --listen, that was a Watergate question-- CUT TO: NIXON ON THE TUBE. Serious now. NIXON The White House has had no involvement whatever in this particular incident. CUT TO: WOODWARD AND BERNSTEIN staring at the set thinking... CUT TO: WOODWARD AND BERNSTEIN walking toward BERSTEIN'S desk. WOODWARD Hey? BERNSTEIN Hmm. WOODWARD What do you think he meant, this particular incident? Were there others? How would we find out? You know anyone important? BERNSTEIN (sits, shakes his head) I lived here all my life, I got a million contacts, but they're all bus boys and bellhops. The reporter KEN RINGLE at the next desk watches them a moment. Then-- RINGLE What do you need? BERNSTEIN Someone inside the White House would be nice. RINGLE (writes down phone number) Call her. She worked for Colson, if that's any help. As BERNSTEIN grabs for the phone-- CUT TO: A SECRETARIAL POOL IN A LARGE OFFICE. BERNSTEIN is talking off to one side with an attractive girl. GIRL Kenny's crazy, I never worked for Colson, I worked for an assistant. Colson was big on secrets anyway. Even if I had worked for him, I wouldn't have known anything. BERNSTEIN Nothing at all you can remember? SECRETARY (headshake) Sorry. (pause) Now if it was Hunt you were interested in-- BERNSTEIN --Howard Hunt? SECRETARY Sure. Him I liked, he was a very nice person. Secretive too, traveled all over, but a decent man. BERNSTEIN Any idea what he did? SECRETARY Oh, the scuttlebutt for awhile was he was investigating Kennedy-- BERNSTEIN --Teddy Kennedy? SECRETARY Sure. I remember seeing a book about Chappaquiddick on his desk and he was always getting material out of the White House Library and the Library of Congress and-- And as

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How many times the word 'ell' appears in the text?

All the President's Men Script at IMSDb. var _gaq = _gaq || []; _gaq.push(['_setAccount', 'UA-3785444-3']); _gaq.push(['_trackPageview']); (function() { var ga = document.createElement('script'); ga.type = 'text/javascript'; ga.async = true; ga.src = ('https:' == document.location.protocol ? 'https://ssl' : 'http://www') + '.google-analytics.com/ga.js'; var s = document.getElementsByTagName('script')[0]; s.parentNode.insertBefore(ga, s); })(); The Internet Movie Script Database (IMSDb) The web's largest movie script resource! Search IMSDb Alphabetical # A B C D E F G H I J K L M N O P Q R S T U V W X Y Z Genre Action Adventure Animation Comedy Crime Drama Family Fantasy Film-Noir Horror Musical Mystery Romance Sci-Fi Short Thriller War Western Sponsor TV Transcripts Futurama Seinfeld South Park Stargate SG-1 Lost The 4400 International French scripts Movie Software Rip from DVD Rip Blu-Ray Latest Comments Star Wars: Revenge of the Sith10/10 Star Wars: The Force Awakens10/10 Batman Begins9/10 Collateral10/10 Jackie Brown8/10 Movie Chat Message Yell ! ALL SCRIPTS ALL THE PRESIDENT'S MEN - by William Goldman if (window!= top) top.location.href=location.href // --> "ALL THE PRESIDENT'S MEN" by William Goldman Based on the novel "All The President's Men" by Carl Bernstein and Bob Woodward Pre-rehearsal version March, 1975 Start with as few credits as possible. When they're over-- FADE IN ON: A TINY BLACK PIECE OF TAPE. We see it in the center of the large, dimly lit screen. As the tape is pressed around a door-- BEGIN THE BREAK-IN SEQUENCE. It's a major piece of action, running maybe five minutes and it's all as detailed and accurate as we can make it, with as many "if only's" included as possible. ("If only" the tape had been attached up and down instead of around the door, Wills wouldn't have spotted it and alerted the police; "if only" the first police car called had gone to investigate, Baldwin, watching from the Howard Johnson Motor Inn, would have seen their uniforms and radioed Hunt and Liddy in time for them to have gotten to the five burglars and then safely away.) The break-in ends when Leeper arrests the five men. He thought he only had one guy, so when ten hands were raised he was surprised. The hands are all encased in Playtex rubber surgical gloves. HOLD on the hands a moment; then-- GO TO: A DARK APARTMENT. The phone rings. WOODWARD fumbles for the receiver, turns on the bed light. He listens a moment. WOODWARD No, no trouble, Harry, be right down. (he hangs up) Son of a bitch. He lies back. The apartment is one room, a small terrace beyond. Not much of a place. WOODWARD lies still, staring at the ceiling. He blinks, blinks again. HOLD... CUT TO: THE ENORMOUS FIFTH FLOOR OF THE WASHINGTON POST. It looks, early of a Saturday morning, pretty deserted. Those reporters that are around are young, bright, and presently involved in nothing more taxing than drinking coffee and thumbing through the papers. HARRY ROSENFELD surveys the scene from his office doorway as WOODWARD approaches, hangs his coat at his desk, not far from where ROSENFELD is standing. ROSENFELD Where's that cheery face we've come to know and love? WOODWARD You call me in on my day off because some idiots have broken into local Democratic Headquarters--tell me, Harry, why should I be smiling? ROSENFELD As usual, that keen mind of yours has pegged the situation perfectly. (chomps on some Maalox tablets) Except (a) it wasn't local Democratic Headquarters, it was National Democratic Headquarters-- (WOODWARD is surprised-- he hadn't known) --and (b) these weren't just any idiots, these were special idiots, seeing as when they were arrested at 2:30 this morning, they were all wearing business suits and Playtex gloves and were carrying-- (consults a piece of paper) --a walkie-talkie, forty rolls of film, cameras, lock picks, pen-sized tear gas guns, plus various bugging devices. (puts paper down) Not to mention over two thousand dollars, mostly in sequenced hundred dollar bills. WOODWARD Preliminary hearing at Superior Courthouse? ROSENFELD (nods) Two o'clock, work the phones 'til you go. CUT TO: THE CRIMINAL COURTS BUILDING. WOODWARD hurries along, goes inside as we CUT TO: A CORRIDOR INSIDE. WOODWARD comes down it, looks around, sees a door marked "Counsel's Offices" and heads toward it. Now-- CUT TO: A CLERK AT A DESK as WOODWARD comes up. Behind them, two lawyers are clearly angry about something, talking and gesticulating to each other. WOODWARD (to the COUNSEL'S CLERK) Could you give me the names of the lawyers for the men arrested in the Watergate. CLERK These two were appointed-- (indicates the angry men) --only now it turns out the burglars got their own counsel. (he starts to laugh) FIRST ANGRY LAWYER (to CLERK) When you gonna stop thinking it's so funny. SECOND ANGRY LAWYER (To CLERK) We wouldda done a terrific job protecting those guys. (neither lawyer, by the way, is Clarence Darrow) FIRST ANGRY LAWYER You think we're not as good as some hotshot fancy lawyer?-- CUT TO: THE COURTROOM and business is booming. Muggers, pimp, hookers, their families and friends. In the scene that follows, a constant counterpoint is what's going on up at the front as an endless succession of petty criminals caught the previous night, the aforementioned muggers, pimps, and hookers, are shuttled in, given a quick appearance before a JUDGE who sets bond, and then shuttled out. In the audience, one man stands out--DOUGLAS CADDY. He is extremely well-dressed and obviously successful. Beside him sits another smaller man, who is unshaven and squints. WOODWARD moves in, sits alongside CADDY. WOODWARD Mr. Caddy? My name's Bob Woodward, I'm from the Post and I wanted to ask about how you happened to come on this case-- CADDY --I'm not here. WOODWARD (nods) OK. He takes out a small notebook, writes, muttering aloud as he does. WOODWARD Douglas Caddy, the attorney of record, when questioned about his presence in the courtroom, denied he was in the courtroom, "I'm not here," Mr. Caddy said. CADDY (impatiently) Clearly, I am here, but only as an individual, I'm not the attorney of record. (indicating unshaven man) Mr. Rafferty has that position. Whatever you want, you'll have to get from him, I have nothing more to say. And as he gets up, walks off-- CUT TO: THE WATER FOUNTAIN IN THE CORRIDOR. There is a small line. CADDY waits at the end of it. WOODWARD (moving in behind him) Mr. Rafferty was very helpful. Four Cuban-Americans and this other man, James McCord. CADDY Look, I told you inside-- WOODWARD --you have nothing more to say, I understand that. CADDY turns away; WOODWARD goes right on. WOODWARD What I don't understand is how you got here. CADDY I assure you, there's nothing mysterious involved. WOODWARD Probably you're right, but a little while ago, I was talking to a couple of lawyers who'd been assigned to represent the burglars. CADDY So? WOODWARD Well, they never would have been assigned if anyone had known the burglars had arranged for their own counsel. And that could only mean the burglars didn't arrange for their own counsel--they never even made a phone call. (looks at CADDY) So if they didn't ask for you to be here, how did you know to come? Without a word, CADDY turns, leaves the line without getting a drink. Silently, WOODWARD watches. Now-- CUT TO: CADDY seated as before beside RAFFERTY. WOODWARD's voice come from behind him, and as CADDY turns, WOODWARD is seated one row back. WOODWARD Did you know to come because one of the other men involved in the break- in called you? CADDY (turning) There is no reason to assume other people were involved. WOODWARD Your clients were arrested with a walkie-talkie; they didn't need that to talk among themselves. CADDY looks at WOODWARD, turns back. CADDY (turning back) They are not my clients. WOODWARD You're a lawyer and you're here-- CADDY --I met one of the defendants, Mr. Barker, at a social occasion once-- (stops himself) --I have nothing more to say. WOODWARD (leaning forward as CADDY turns away again) A Miami social occasion? (explaining) Mr. Rafferty told me the Cubans were from Miami. CADDY (sighing) Barker's wife called me at three this morning; her husband apparently had told her to call if he hadn't called her by then. WOODWARD It was really nice of you to come, since you'd only met him once. CADDY Are you implying you don't believe me? WOODWARD I have nothing more to say. CADDY You don't mind getting on people's nerves, do you? WOODWARD considers this a moment. Then-- WOODWARD Nope. And on that word-- CUT TO: THE COURTROOM as without warning, it quiets. There is suddenly a tremendous air of expectancy, you can feel it. Now we see why as five men in dark business suits are led in; they've been stripped of belts, ties, and shoelaces. McCord is taller than the others. They stand, facing the JUDGE, backs to the audience. WOODWARD sits watching as the proceedings start, but it's hard to hear. He concentrates as the JUDGE starts speaking. JUDGE Will you please state your professions. The five men do not move or reply. Then, after a long pause, Barker says-- BARKER Anti-Communists. JUDGE Anti-Communists? (perplexed) That, sir, is not your average occupation. WOODWARD starts moving forward now, down an aisle, moving past kids and whores and all the rest, trying to hear what the hell's going on. At the front of the spectator's section is a fence-like wooden barricade about three feet high. As he approaches it-- The JUDGE indicates the bald burglar. JUDGE Your name, please. MCCORD James McCord. JUDGE Will you step forward, sir. (MCCORD obeys) WOODWARD at the bench is leaning forward, trying to hear but it's hard. JUDGE And what is your occupation, Mr. McCord? MCCORD (softly) Security consultant. JUDGE Where? MCCORD (softer) Government. Recently retired. JUDGE Where in government? MCCORD (we can't really make this out) ...Central... Intelligence... Agency... JUDGE (he can't either) Where? MCCORD (clearing his throat) The C.I.A. And on these words, ZOOM TO: CLOSE UP--WOODWARD leaning over the fence practically falling over it in a desperate straining effort to catch what's going on. WOODWARD (stunned) Holy shit. Now from the courtroom-- CUT TO: THOUSANDS AND THOUSANDS OF WASHINGTON POSTS. We are at the end of the press run, the papers are all assembled and being cabled and sent off by machine to various places. As the papers continue to roll past-- A UNION TYPE EMPLOYEE grabs a paper, looks at the front page. The Watergate story, headlined whatever it was headlined, is visible. The byline was by Alfred E. Lewis. The union type Post employee glances at the article-- UNION POST EMPLOYEE (reading half-aloud) "Five men, one of whom said he is a former employee..." (stops reading, gives a shrug) Schmucks. And he turns happily to the sports section-- CUT TO: A CLOSE UP OF HUNDRED DOLLAR BILLS. It's new money and looks as if it's been recently ironed. Someone is going through the cash, making a quick count. During this-- FIRST VOICE (V.O.) Hurry it, huh, Bachinski? BACHINSKI You said I could look at it-- PULL BACK TO REVEAL We're in a room in a police station and two men are present. One, a COP, is nervous as hell and constantly aware of the door. The other, BACHINSKI, is taking hurried notes in a reporter's type notebook as he examines the evidence. COP --I said look, not memorize-- BACHINSKI --almost done, give it a rest, all right... (and he looks at an address book, he stops) CUT TO: THE ADDRESS BOOK. Beside the name "Howard E. Hunt" is the notation "W.House." Now, BACHINSKI hurriedly opens the other book to the letter "H" and there is the same name, "Howard E. Hunt" and beside it, the letters, "W.H." COP (V.O.) What'd you find? BACHINSKI (V.O.) Beats me. These notebooks belonged to Cuban guys? COP (V.O.) S'right. BACHINSKI (V.O.) It's gotta mean either White House or whore house, one or the other. We HOLD on the HUNT name, and the address notations. Then-- CUT TO: WOODWARD'S APARTMENT - NIGHT. The phone rings, waking him. He fumbles for the phone and the light, finally gets them both. WOODWARD Bachinski? (reaches for a notebook) What?--hold it-- (gets it open, starts to write) --OK, go on, go on... CUT TO: A BOX OF MAALOX TABLETS. ROSENFELD is opening them, we're in his office, WOODWARD sits across the desk, holding the notebook we saw him writing in. ROSENFELD ...go on, go on... WOODWARD That's everything Bachinski had, I think it's worth following up. ROSENFELD Don't know; who the hell's Howard Hunt? (crunches tablets) It's probably nothing but check it out. Just go easy, it could be crazy Cubans. HOWARD SIMONS sticks his head in the office. SIMONS Anything? ROSENFELD Woodward's onto a new wrinkle with the break-in thing--absolute page one stuff-- SIMONS --in other words, you got nothing, you're thumbsucking. ROSENFELD (shrugs) Could develop. SIMONS Let me see what you get, but don't jump--The New York Times thinks it's crazy Cubans. He moves on. ROSENFELD turns quickly to WOODWARD. ROSENFELD OK, get on this W.House guy and do a better job then you did on McCord. WOODWARD I did all right on McCord. ROSENFELD Then how come the Associated Press were the ones found out that Mr. McCord is security coordinator for the Committee to Re-elect the President, otherwise known as CREEP? WOODWARD (getting it straight) The head of security for the reelection of a Republican President got caught bugging the national offices of the Democrats? What the hell does that mean? ROSENFELD (hasn't the foggiest) Mr. John Mitchell, the head of CREEP, says it means nothing. (reads) "...This man and the other people involved were not operating on either our behalf or with our consent. These is no place in our campaign or in the electoral process for this type of activity, and we will not forget it or condone it." WOODWARD (getting up) You can't believe that. ROSENFELD As a rough rule of thumb, as far as I can throw Bronco Nagurski, that's how much I trust John Mitchell... Now-- CUT TO: A MOON-FACED MAN RINGING A TRIANGLE. CUT TO: THE NEWSROOM as the triangle sound echoes. HOWARD SIMONS leaves large Managing Editor's office, walks past another office, knocks twice on the glass wall. Inside the Executive Editor's office, BEN BRADLEE sits. As SIMONS knocks, he turns, nods. He appears, for the moment, deep in thought. HARRY ROSENFELD on the opposite end of the room hurries out of his office, following a bunch of editors, all of them heading across the huge room. As he passes WOODWARD's desk ROSENFELD pauses. ROSENFELD What'd you get on W.House? WOODWARD (massaging his neck) Lotsa hints-- ROSENFELD (not happy) I can't sell hints to Simons-- (stops, looks at piece of yellow paper) --you called everyone you know? (WOODWARD makes a nod) Call someone you don't know. WOODWARD continues to rub his neck as ROSENFELD hurries off, all the editors still moving toward the place where the moon- faced man intermittently rings the triangle. WOODWARD picks up the sheet of yellow paper from his desk. Lined, legal-sized, it is crammed with names and numbers and addresses. They are in no neat order; looking at them it's almost like following a path; chicken tracks in ink. WOODWARD mutters "to hell with it" and reaches for a thick book, flips it open. NOW WE SEE THE BOOK: It's the Washington Phone Directory and we're in the W's. As WOODWARD's finger stops, we can see he's looking at the White HOuse entry number. There it is, just like your name and mine. Listed. Now WOODWARD starts to dial, visibly nervous, a fact he tries very hard to keep out of his voice tone. WHITE HOUSE OPERATOR (V.O.) White House. WOODWARD (casually) Howard Hunt, please. Throughout the following call, we stay on WOODWARD's face, hear the other voices. WHITE HOUSE OPERATOR (V.O.) Mr. Hunt does not answer. WOODWARD is delighted he's even there. WOODWARD Thanks, anyway-- And he's about to hang up, when-- WHITE HOUSE OPERATOR (V.O.) I'll bet he's in Mr. Colson's office. Let me connect you. SECRETARY (V.O.) Charles Colson's wire. WOODWARD (a little more excited) Howard Hunt, please. SECRETARY (V.O.) Mr. Hunt isn't here just now. WOODWARD Thanks, anyway. And he's about to hang up again when-- SECRETARY (V.O.) Have you tried Mullen and Company Public Relations? He works at Mullen and Company Public Relations as a writer. The number is 555-1313. I'm sorry I couldn't be more helpful. WOODWARD Listen, forget it. He hangs up, sits there. His hands are a little twitchy... HOLD. Now-- CUT TO: ROSENFELD hurrying (he always hurries) toward his office. WOODWARD, looking for something in his desk throughout this scene, speaks to him. WOODWARD Who's Charles Colson? ROSENFELD (stops dead) I would liken your query to being in Russia half a century ago and asking someone, "I understand who Lenin is and Trotsky I got too, but who's this yokel Stalin?" WOODWARD Who's Colson, Harry? ROSENFELD The most powerful man in America is President Nixon, probably you've heard his name. WOODWARD, unfazed by anything, continues to open drawers, close them, as ROSENFELD rolls on. ROSENFELD The second most powerful man is Robert Haldeman. Just below him are a trio: Mr. Erlichman is Haldeman's friend, and they protect the President from everybody which is why they are referred to as either The German Shepherds or the Berlin Wall. Mr. Mitchell we've already discussed. Mr. Colson is the President's special counsel. WOODWARD (rising) Thanks, Harry. (looks at ROSENFELD) Know anything about Colson? ROSENFELD Just that on his office wall there's a cartoon with a caption reading, "When you've got them by the balls, their hearts and minds will follow." WOODWARD nods, heads back toward the files as we CUT TO: WOODWARD AT HIS DESK dialing the phone. He's got the Colson file spread out now, and we see pictures of the man and articles the Post had done on him. But basically what we see is WOODWARD plugging away on the goddamn phone and you'd think his finger would fall off from all the dialing and you know his voice is tiring as this montage goes on, you can hear it grow raspy. But a lot of what a reporter does he does on the phone, and that's what we're compressing here. The dialing never stops, the voices are continuous. WOODWARD Hello, I'm Bob Woodward of the Washing Post and... (beat) Mullen and Company Public Relations? Could you tell me when you expect Mr. Hunt? (surprised) He is? HUNT (V.O.) Howard Hunt here. WOODWARD Hi, I'm Bob Woodward of the Post and-- HUNT (V.O.) (impatient) --yes, yes, what is it? WOODWARD I was just kind of wondering why your name and phone number were in the address books of two of the men arrested at Watergate? HUNT (V.O.) (blind panic) Good God! And he bangs the phone down sharply-- --more dialing SOUNDS. Now snatches of conversation-- WOODWARD I'm sorry to bother you, Mr. Bennett, but we're doing some investigating of one of your employees, Howard Hunt. BENNETT (V.O.) Well, if you've been doing some investigating then obviously it's no secret to you that Howard was with the C.I.A. WOODWARD (he hadn't known) No secret at all. More dialing. Then-- WOODWARD (tired, voice deeper) Hello, C.I.A. This is R.W. Woodward, of the Washington Post--get me Personnel-- Dialing again. WOODWARD's voice is showing genuine fatigue. WOODWARD Hi, I'm Bob Woodward of the Washington Post--and--what's that?--you've never heard of me?--I can't help that--you don't believe I'm with the Post?-- what do you want me to do, Madam, shout "extra--extra"? There is the SOUND of the phone being slammed down in his ear. Hard. Now-- CUT TO: ROSENFELD AND SIMONS approaching WOODWARD who is working at his desk. He has put in a lot of hours on this and looks it. ROSENFELD Whaddya got, whaddya got? WOODWARD Hunt is Colson's man-- (to SIMONS, explaining) --that's Charles Colson, Nixon's special counsel-- (SIMONS almost says something, decides against it) --they both went to Brown University-- (consulting his notes) --Hunt worked for the C.I.A. till '70, and this is on deep background, the FBI thinks he's involved with the break-in. SIMONS What else have you got? WOODWARD According to White House personnel, Hunt definitely works there as a consultant for Colson. But when I called the White House Press office, they said he hadn't worked there for three months. Then the P.R. guy said the weirdest thing to me. (reading) "I am convinced that neither Mr. Colson nor anyone else at the White House had any knowledge of, or participation in, this deplorable incident at the Democratic National Committee." He looks up at them. SIMONS Isn't that what you'd expect them to say? WOODWARD Absolutely. ROSENFELD So? WOODWARD (he's got something and he knows it) I never asked them about Watergate. I only said what were Hunt's duties at the White House. They volunteered that he was innocent when nobody asked was he guilty. ROSENFELD (to SIMONS) I think we got a White House consultant linked to the bugging. SIMONS (nods) Just be careful how you write it. CUT TO: WOODWARD TYPING LIKE MAD, makes a mistake, corrects it, types on muttering to himself, and-- CUT TO: ROSENFELD IN HIS OFFICE munching a handful of Maalox tablets and-- CUT TO: WOODWARD taking a sheet from his typewriter, hurrying off and-- CUT TO: ROSENFELD taking the sheet from WOODWARD-- WOODWARD Here's the first take-- ROSENFELD nods, shows him out and-- CUT TO: WOODWARD BACK AT HIS MACHINE typing faster then before, makes another mistake, starts to correct it, glances around and-- CUT TO: ROSENFELD IN HIS OFFICE gesturing to somebody but not WOODWARD and-- CUT TO: WOODWARD watching as BERNSTEIN appears in view from behind the wide pillar by WOODWARD's desk, heads toward ROSENFELD's office. WOODWARD shrugs, goes back to his typing, makes a typo immediately, glances over toward ROSENFELD's office, freezes as we-- CUT TO: ROSENFELD handing some papers to BERNSTEIN. They look, from this distance, suspiciously like WOODWARD's story. CUT TO: BERNSTEIN hurrying out of ROSENFELD's office, and-- CUT TO: WOODWARD watching BERNSTEIN until he disappears out of sight behind the pillar. WOODWARD hesitates, finally goes back to his typing, makes another mistake, fixes it, makes still another, his temper is shortly to make itself known-- CUT TO: ROSENFELD as WOODWARD hands him another sheet of paper. WOODWARD This is all of it, Harry. ROSENFELD NODS, takes it, immediately starts to read as we-- CUT TO: WOODWARD AT HIS DESK watching as ROSENFELD gestures again. There is a pause. Then BERNSTEIN appears from behind the pillar and-- CUT TO: ROSENFELD handing BERNSTEIN another sheet of paper. BERSTEIN nods, takes it, walks back toward his desk, disappears behind the pillar again. WOODWARD is starting to steam. Now-- CUT TO: BERNSTEIN AT HIS DESK typing magnificently, his hands rising and falling like Rubinstein's. Behind him is the pillar and for a moment there is nothing--then, very slowly, a figure peers out from behind the pillar--it is WOODWARD. He watches. BERNSTEIN continues to type, then after a moment, rests, thinks, shifts around in his chair and as his glance starts toward the pillar-- CUT TO: THE PILLAR. WOODWARD is gone. CUT TO: BERNSTEIN typing madly away. THE PILLAR. WOODWARD is visible again, eyes very bright... now-- CUT TO: BERNSTEIN finishing typing, his hands moving majestically. WOODWARD comes up behind him, stands looking a second. Then-- WOODWARD We have to talk. BERNSTEIN nods, grabs the papers both that he's been typing and that he's been copying from. And as he rises-- PAN TO: WOODWARD AND BERNSTEIN walking silently out of the newsroom then turning left down a darker corridor, passing bulletin boards and wall lockers and it's all nice and quiet as they amble on, nodding to the few people they pass on their way and after a while they turn right and enter the coffee lounge which is empty; the walls are lined with Norman Rockwell reproductions and various kinds of vending machines are visible, selling coffee or milk or fruit or sandwiches and there are some plastic tables and chairs and the minute they are alone, the silence ends. WOODWARD What the hell were you doing rewriting my story-- BERNSTEIN --I sure couldn't hurt it, could I?-- WOODWARD --it was fine the way it was-- BERNSTEIN --it was bullshit the way it was-- WOODWARD --I have to stand here and listen to the staff correspondent from Virginia?-- BERNSTEIN (a sore subject) --what have you been here, nine months?--I been in this business since I was sixteen-- WOODWARD --and you've had some fucking meteoric rise, that's for sure--by the time you turn forty you might be the head of the Montana bureau-- BERNSTEIN --you only got the job because both you and Bradlee went to Yale-- WOODWARD --Bradlee went to Harvard-- BERNSTEIN --they're all the same, all those Ivy League places--they teach you about striped ties and suddenly you're smart-- WOODWARD --I'm smart enough to know my story was solid-- BERNSTEIN --mine's better-- WOODWARD --no way-- BERNSTEIN (handing them over) --read 'em both and you'll see-- And as WOODWARD glances at the two stories-- CUT TO: BERNSTEIN watching. Now-- CUT TO: WOODWARD. He glances from one story to the other. Then, disconsolately-- WOODWARD ...crap... And he sinks down in a chair. BERNSTEIN Is mine better? WOODWARD nods. WOODWARD (handing the stories back) What is it about my writing that's so rotten? BERNSTEIN (as he exits) Mainly it has to do with your choice of words. And as he goes, leaving WOODWARD just sitting there-- CUT TO: BERSTEIN, re-entering the newsroom, returning to his desk. He starts to insert some papers into his typewriter, hesitates, lights a cigarette. He inhales, as, behind him, WOODWARD briefly is visible going to his desk behind the pillar. Finally BERNSTEIN inserts the paper, starts to type as WOODWARD (V.O.) (from behind the pillar) Carl? BERNSTEIN (turns) Yeah? WOODWARD (pushing his chair briefly into view) Fuck you, Carl. And as he rolls forward again, out of sight-- CUT TO: RICHARD NIXON ON THE TUBE. (It's the June 22 Press Conference.) He talks on about something, it doesn't matter exactly what here, the point is, it should include that strange smile of his that kept appearing when the man should not have been smiling. Hints of pressure maybe, that's all, and once it's established-- PULL BACK TO REVEAL: WOODWARD sitting alone, gloomily staring at the set. We're in the Post Cafeteria, it's the next morning, and the place is pretty much empty. He sips the coffee, it tastes rotten. BERNSTEIN moves up behind him, carrying a cup of coffee of his own. He stands by WOODWARD briefly. BERNSTEIN You heard? (WOODWARD glances up) They put us both on the break-in thing. Simons liked the way we worked together. (WOODWARD nods, BERNSTEIN sits down) Listen, I'm sorry I said your story was bullshit. WOODWARD It's OK; I'm sorry I called you a failure. BERNSTEIN Forget it, the main thing-- (stops) --did you call me a failure? WOODWARD I was sure trying. CUT TO: WOODWARD, BERNSTEIN, AND NIXON. The way it's shot, it's almost as if they're watching each other; NIXON staring out from the TV set, answering questions. WOODWARD and BERNSTEIN sip coffee. We don't know yet--or better, they don't know it yet, but these are our adversaries. CUT TO: WOODWARD AND BERNSTEIN, without NIXON now. They sit at the table. Occasionally, NIXON is audible in the background. WOODWARD All right, what do we know? BERNSTEIN Let me lay a little theory on you-- WOODWARD (cutting him off) --I'm not interested in theory. What do we know? For example, Hunt's disappeared. BERNSTEIN Well, Barker tried to get blueprints of the Miami Convention Center and the air-conditioning system. WOODWARD And McCord was carrying an application for college press credentials for the Democratic convention. (to BERNSTEIN) The Times has got to be full of it-- it can't be crazy Cubans. BERNSTEIN What, though? (points to Nixon) It can't be the Republicans--he'd never allow something as stupid as this, not when he's gonna slaughter McGovern anyway. WOODWARD Right. Nixon didn't get where he got by being dumb-- (stops abruptly) --listen, that was a Watergate question-- CUT TO: NIXON ON THE TUBE. Serious now. NIXON The White House has had no involvement whatever in this particular incident. CUT TO: WOODWARD AND BERNSTEIN staring at the set thinking... CUT TO: WOODWARD AND BERNSTEIN walking toward BERSTEIN'S desk. WOODWARD Hey? BERNSTEIN Hmm. WOODWARD What do you think he meant, this particular incident? Were there others? How would we find out? You know anyone important? BERNSTEIN (sits, shakes his head) I lived here all my life, I got a million contacts, but they're all bus boys and bellhops. The reporter KEN RINGLE at the next desk watches them a moment. Then-- RINGLE What do you need? BERNSTEIN Someone inside the White House would be nice. RINGLE (writes down phone number) Call her. She worked for Colson, if that's any help. As BERNSTEIN grabs for the phone-- CUT TO: A SECRETARIAL POOL IN A LARGE OFFICE. BERNSTEIN is talking off to one side with an attractive girl. GIRL Kenny's crazy, I never worked for Colson, I worked for an assistant. Colson was big on secrets anyway. Even if I had worked for him, I wouldn't have known anything. BERNSTEIN Nothing at all you can remember? SECRETARY (headshake) Sorry. (pause) Now if it was Hunt you were interested in-- BERNSTEIN --Howard Hunt? SECRETARY Sure. Him I liked, he was a very nice person. Secretive too, traveled all over, but a decent man. BERNSTEIN Any idea what he did? SECRETARY Oh, the scuttlebutt for awhile was he was investigating Kennedy-- BERNSTEIN --Teddy Kennedy? SECRETARY Sure. I remember seeing a book about Chappaquiddick on his desk and he was always getting material out of the White House Library and the Library of Congress and-- And as

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All the President's Men Script at IMSDb. var _gaq = _gaq || []; _gaq.push(['_setAccount', 'UA-3785444-3']); _gaq.push(['_trackPageview']); (function() { var ga = document.createElement('script'); ga.type = 'text/javascript'; ga.async = true; ga.src = ('https:' == document.location.protocol ? 'https://ssl' : 'http://www') + '.google-analytics.com/ga.js'; var s = document.getElementsByTagName('script')[0]; s.parentNode.insertBefore(ga, s); })(); The Internet Movie Script Database (IMSDb) The web's largest movie script resource! Search IMSDb Alphabetical # A B C D E F G H I J K L M N O P Q R S T U V W X Y Z Genre Action Adventure Animation Comedy Crime Drama Family Fantasy Film-Noir Horror Musical Mystery Romance Sci-Fi Short Thriller War Western Sponsor TV Transcripts Futurama Seinfeld South Park Stargate SG-1 Lost The 4400 International French scripts Movie Software Rip from DVD Rip Blu-Ray Latest Comments Star Wars: Revenge of the Sith10/10 Star Wars: The Force Awakens10/10 Batman Begins9/10 Collateral10/10 Jackie Brown8/10 Movie Chat Message Yell ! ALL SCRIPTS ALL THE PRESIDENT'S MEN - by William Goldman if (window!= top) top.location.href=location.href // --> "ALL THE PRESIDENT'S MEN" by William Goldman Based on the novel "All The President's Men" by Carl Bernstein and Bob Woodward Pre-rehearsal version March, 1975 Start with as few credits as possible. When they're over-- FADE IN ON: A TINY BLACK PIECE OF TAPE. We see it in the center of the large, dimly lit screen. As the tape is pressed around a door-- BEGIN THE BREAK-IN SEQUENCE. It's a major piece of action, running maybe five minutes and it's all as detailed and accurate as we can make it, with as many "if only's" included as possible. ("If only" the tape had been attached up and down instead of around the door, Wills wouldn't have spotted it and alerted the police; "if only" the first police car called had gone to investigate, Baldwin, watching from the Howard Johnson Motor Inn, would have seen their uniforms and radioed Hunt and Liddy in time for them to have gotten to the five burglars and then safely away.) The break-in ends when Leeper arrests the five men. He thought he only had one guy, so when ten hands were raised he was surprised. The hands are all encased in Playtex rubber surgical gloves. HOLD on the hands a moment; then-- GO TO: A DARK APARTMENT. The phone rings. WOODWARD fumbles for the receiver, turns on the bed light. He listens a moment. WOODWARD No, no trouble, Harry, be right down. (he hangs up) Son of a bitch. He lies back. The apartment is one room, a small terrace beyond. Not much of a place. WOODWARD lies still, staring at the ceiling. He blinks, blinks again. HOLD... CUT TO: THE ENORMOUS FIFTH FLOOR OF THE WASHINGTON POST. It looks, early of a Saturday morning, pretty deserted. Those reporters that are around are young, bright, and presently involved in nothing more taxing than drinking coffee and thumbing through the papers. HARRY ROSENFELD surveys the scene from his office doorway as WOODWARD approaches, hangs his coat at his desk, not far from where ROSENFELD is standing. ROSENFELD Where's that cheery face we've come to know and love? WOODWARD You call me in on my day off because some idiots have broken into local Democratic Headquarters--tell me, Harry, why should I be smiling? ROSENFELD As usual, that keen mind of yours has pegged the situation perfectly. (chomps on some Maalox tablets) Except (a) it wasn't local Democratic Headquarters, it was National Democratic Headquarters-- (WOODWARD is surprised-- he hadn't known) --and (b) these weren't just any idiots, these were special idiots, seeing as when they were arrested at 2:30 this morning, they were all wearing business suits and Playtex gloves and were carrying-- (consults a piece of paper) --a walkie-talkie, forty rolls of film, cameras, lock picks, pen-sized tear gas guns, plus various bugging devices. (puts paper down) Not to mention over two thousand dollars, mostly in sequenced hundred dollar bills. WOODWARD Preliminary hearing at Superior Courthouse? ROSENFELD (nods) Two o'clock, work the phones 'til you go. CUT TO: THE CRIMINAL COURTS BUILDING. WOODWARD hurries along, goes inside as we CUT TO: A CORRIDOR INSIDE. WOODWARD comes down it, looks around, sees a door marked "Counsel's Offices" and heads toward it. Now-- CUT TO: A CLERK AT A DESK as WOODWARD comes up. Behind them, two lawyers are clearly angry about something, talking and gesticulating to each other. WOODWARD (to the COUNSEL'S CLERK) Could you give me the names of the lawyers for the men arrested in the Watergate. CLERK These two were appointed-- (indicates the angry men) --only now it turns out the burglars got their own counsel. (he starts to laugh) FIRST ANGRY LAWYER (to CLERK) When you gonna stop thinking it's so funny. SECOND ANGRY LAWYER (To CLERK) We wouldda done a terrific job protecting those guys. (neither lawyer, by the way, is Clarence Darrow) FIRST ANGRY LAWYER You think we're not as good as some hotshot fancy lawyer?-- CUT TO: THE COURTROOM and business is booming. Muggers, pimp, hookers, their families and friends. In the scene that follows, a constant counterpoint is what's going on up at the front as an endless succession of petty criminals caught the previous night, the aforementioned muggers, pimps, and hookers, are shuttled in, given a quick appearance before a JUDGE who sets bond, and then shuttled out. In the audience, one man stands out--DOUGLAS CADDY. He is extremely well-dressed and obviously successful. Beside him sits another smaller man, who is unshaven and squints. WOODWARD moves in, sits alongside CADDY. WOODWARD Mr. Caddy? My name's Bob Woodward, I'm from the Post and I wanted to ask about how you happened to come on this case-- CADDY --I'm not here. WOODWARD (nods) OK. He takes out a small notebook, writes, muttering aloud as he does. WOODWARD Douglas Caddy, the attorney of record, when questioned about his presence in the courtroom, denied he was in the courtroom, "I'm not here," Mr. Caddy said. CADDY (impatiently) Clearly, I am here, but only as an individual, I'm not the attorney of record. (indicating unshaven man) Mr. Rafferty has that position. Whatever you want, you'll have to get from him, I have nothing more to say. And as he gets up, walks off-- CUT TO: THE WATER FOUNTAIN IN THE CORRIDOR. There is a small line. CADDY waits at the end of it. WOODWARD (moving in behind him) Mr. Rafferty was very helpful. Four Cuban-Americans and this other man, James McCord. CADDY Look, I told you inside-- WOODWARD --you have nothing more to say, I understand that. CADDY turns away; WOODWARD goes right on. WOODWARD What I don't understand is how you got here. CADDY I assure you, there's nothing mysterious involved. WOODWARD Probably you're right, but a little while ago, I was talking to a couple of lawyers who'd been assigned to represent the burglars. CADDY So? WOODWARD Well, they never would have been assigned if anyone had known the burglars had arranged for their own counsel. And that could only mean the burglars didn't arrange for their own counsel--they never even made a phone call. (looks at CADDY) So if they didn't ask for you to be here, how did you know to come? Without a word, CADDY turns, leaves the line without getting a drink. Silently, WOODWARD watches. Now-- CUT TO: CADDY seated as before beside RAFFERTY. WOODWARD's voice come from behind him, and as CADDY turns, WOODWARD is seated one row back. WOODWARD Did you know to come because one of the other men involved in the break- in called you? CADDY (turning) There is no reason to assume other people were involved. WOODWARD Your clients were arrested with a walkie-talkie; they didn't need that to talk among themselves. CADDY looks at WOODWARD, turns back. CADDY (turning back) They are not my clients. WOODWARD You're a lawyer and you're here-- CADDY --I met one of the defendants, Mr. Barker, at a social occasion once-- (stops himself) --I have nothing more to say. WOODWARD (leaning forward as CADDY turns away again) A Miami social occasion? (explaining) Mr. Rafferty told me the Cubans were from Miami. CADDY (sighing) Barker's wife called me at three this morning; her husband apparently had told her to call if he hadn't called her by then. WOODWARD It was really nice of you to come, since you'd only met him once. CADDY Are you implying you don't believe me? WOODWARD I have nothing more to say. CADDY You don't mind getting on people's nerves, do you? WOODWARD considers this a moment. Then-- WOODWARD Nope. And on that word-- CUT TO: THE COURTROOM as without warning, it quiets. There is suddenly a tremendous air of expectancy, you can feel it. Now we see why as five men in dark business suits are led in; they've been stripped of belts, ties, and shoelaces. McCord is taller than the others. They stand, facing the JUDGE, backs to the audience. WOODWARD sits watching as the proceedings start, but it's hard to hear. He concentrates as the JUDGE starts speaking. JUDGE Will you please state your professions. The five men do not move or reply. Then, after a long pause, Barker says-- BARKER Anti-Communists. JUDGE Anti-Communists? (perplexed) That, sir, is not your average occupation. WOODWARD starts moving forward now, down an aisle, moving past kids and whores and all the rest, trying to hear what the hell's going on. At the front of the spectator's section is a fence-like wooden barricade about three feet high. As he approaches it-- The JUDGE indicates the bald burglar. JUDGE Your name, please. MCCORD James McCord. JUDGE Will you step forward, sir. (MCCORD obeys) WOODWARD at the bench is leaning forward, trying to hear but it's hard. JUDGE And what is your occupation, Mr. McCord? MCCORD (softly) Security consultant. JUDGE Where? MCCORD (softer) Government. Recently retired. JUDGE Where in government? MCCORD (we can't really make this out) ...Central... Intelligence... Agency... JUDGE (he can't either) Where? MCCORD (clearing his throat) The C.I.A. And on these words, ZOOM TO: CLOSE UP--WOODWARD leaning over the fence practically falling over it in a desperate straining effort to catch what's going on. WOODWARD (stunned) Holy shit. Now from the courtroom-- CUT TO: THOUSANDS AND THOUSANDS OF WASHINGTON POSTS. We are at the end of the press run, the papers are all assembled and being cabled and sent off by machine to various places. As the papers continue to roll past-- A UNION TYPE EMPLOYEE grabs a paper, looks at the front page. The Watergate story, headlined whatever it was headlined, is visible. The byline was by Alfred E. Lewis. The union type Post employee glances at the article-- UNION POST EMPLOYEE (reading half-aloud) "Five men, one of whom said he is a former employee..." (stops reading, gives a shrug) Schmucks. And he turns happily to the sports section-- CUT TO: A CLOSE UP OF HUNDRED DOLLAR BILLS. It's new money and looks as if it's been recently ironed. Someone is going through the cash, making a quick count. During this-- FIRST VOICE (V.O.) Hurry it, huh, Bachinski? BACHINSKI You said I could look at it-- PULL BACK TO REVEAL We're in a room in a police station and two men are present. One, a COP, is nervous as hell and constantly aware of the door. The other, BACHINSKI, is taking hurried notes in a reporter's type notebook as he examines the evidence. COP --I said look, not memorize-- BACHINSKI --almost done, give it a rest, all right... (and he looks at an address book, he stops) CUT TO: THE ADDRESS BOOK. Beside the name "Howard E. Hunt" is the notation "W.House." Now, BACHINSKI hurriedly opens the other book to the letter "H" and there is the same name, "Howard E. Hunt" and beside it, the letters, "W.H." COP (V.O.) What'd you find? BACHINSKI (V.O.) Beats me. These notebooks belonged to Cuban guys? COP (V.O.) S'right. BACHINSKI (V.O.) It's gotta mean either White House or whore house, one or the other. We HOLD on the HUNT name, and the address notations. Then-- CUT TO: WOODWARD'S APARTMENT - NIGHT. The phone rings, waking him. He fumbles for the phone and the light, finally gets them both. WOODWARD Bachinski? (reaches for a notebook) What?--hold it-- (gets it open, starts to write) --OK, go on, go on... CUT TO: A BOX OF MAALOX TABLETS. ROSENFELD is opening them, we're in his office, WOODWARD sits across the desk, holding the notebook we saw him writing in. ROSENFELD ...go on, go on... WOODWARD That's everything Bachinski had, I think it's worth following up. ROSENFELD Don't know; who the hell's Howard Hunt? (crunches tablets) It's probably nothing but check it out. Just go easy, it could be crazy Cubans. HOWARD SIMONS sticks his head in the office. SIMONS Anything? ROSENFELD Woodward's onto a new wrinkle with the break-in thing--absolute page one stuff-- SIMONS --in other words, you got nothing, you're thumbsucking. ROSENFELD (shrugs) Could develop. SIMONS Let me see what you get, but don't jump--The New York Times thinks it's crazy Cubans. He moves on. ROSENFELD turns quickly to WOODWARD. ROSENFELD OK, get on this W.House guy and do a better job then you did on McCord. WOODWARD I did all right on McCord. ROSENFELD Then how come the Associated Press were the ones found out that Mr. McCord is security coordinator for the Committee to Re-elect the President, otherwise known as CREEP? WOODWARD (getting it straight) The head of security for the reelection of a Republican President got caught bugging the national offices of the Democrats? What the hell does that mean? ROSENFELD (hasn't the foggiest) Mr. John Mitchell, the head of CREEP, says it means nothing. (reads) "...This man and the other people involved were not operating on either our behalf or with our consent. These is no place in our campaign or in the electoral process for this type of activity, and we will not forget it or condone it." WOODWARD (getting up) You can't believe that. ROSENFELD As a rough rule of thumb, as far as I can throw Bronco Nagurski, that's how much I trust John Mitchell... Now-- CUT TO: A MOON-FACED MAN RINGING A TRIANGLE. CUT TO: THE NEWSROOM as the triangle sound echoes. HOWARD SIMONS leaves large Managing Editor's office, walks past another office, knocks twice on the glass wall. Inside the Executive Editor's office, BEN BRADLEE sits. As SIMONS knocks, he turns, nods. He appears, for the moment, deep in thought. HARRY ROSENFELD on the opposite end of the room hurries out of his office, following a bunch of editors, all of them heading across the huge room. As he passes WOODWARD's desk ROSENFELD pauses. ROSENFELD What'd you get on W.House? WOODWARD (massaging his neck) Lotsa hints-- ROSENFELD (not happy) I can't sell hints to Simons-- (stops, looks at piece of yellow paper) --you called everyone you know? (WOODWARD makes a nod) Call someone you don't know. WOODWARD continues to rub his neck as ROSENFELD hurries off, all the editors still moving toward the place where the moon- faced man intermittently rings the triangle. WOODWARD picks up the sheet of yellow paper from his desk. Lined, legal-sized, it is crammed with names and numbers and addresses. They are in no neat order; looking at them it's almost like following a path; chicken tracks in ink. WOODWARD mutters "to hell with it" and reaches for a thick book, flips it open. NOW WE SEE THE BOOK: It's the Washington Phone Directory and we're in the W's. As WOODWARD's finger stops, we can see he's looking at the White HOuse entry number. There it is, just like your name and mine. Listed. Now WOODWARD starts to dial, visibly nervous, a fact he tries very hard to keep out of his voice tone. WHITE HOUSE OPERATOR (V.O.) White House. WOODWARD (casually) Howard Hunt, please. Throughout the following call, we stay on WOODWARD's face, hear the other voices. WHITE HOUSE OPERATOR (V.O.) Mr. Hunt does not answer. WOODWARD is delighted he's even there. WOODWARD Thanks, anyway-- And he's about to hang up, when-- WHITE HOUSE OPERATOR (V.O.) I'll bet he's in Mr. Colson's office. Let me connect you. SECRETARY (V.O.) Charles Colson's wire. WOODWARD (a little more excited) Howard Hunt, please. SECRETARY (V.O.) Mr. Hunt isn't here just now. WOODWARD Thanks, anyway. And he's about to hang up again when-- SECRETARY (V.O.) Have you tried Mullen and Company Public Relations? He works at Mullen and Company Public Relations as a writer. The number is 555-1313. I'm sorry I couldn't be more helpful. WOODWARD Listen, forget it. He hangs up, sits there. His hands are a little twitchy... HOLD. Now-- CUT TO: ROSENFELD hurrying (he always hurries) toward his office. WOODWARD, looking for something in his desk throughout this scene, speaks to him. WOODWARD Who's Charles Colson? ROSENFELD (stops dead) I would liken your query to being in Russia half a century ago and asking someone, "I understand who Lenin is and Trotsky I got too, but who's this yokel Stalin?" WOODWARD Who's Colson, Harry? ROSENFELD The most powerful man in America is President Nixon, probably you've heard his name. WOODWARD, unfazed by anything, continues to open drawers, close them, as ROSENFELD rolls on. ROSENFELD The second most powerful man is Robert Haldeman. Just below him are a trio: Mr. Erlichman is Haldeman's friend, and they protect the President from everybody which is why they are referred to as either The German Shepherds or the Berlin Wall. Mr. Mitchell we've already discussed. Mr. Colson is the President's special counsel. WOODWARD (rising) Thanks, Harry. (looks at ROSENFELD) Know anything about Colson? ROSENFELD Just that on his office wall there's a cartoon with a caption reading, "When you've got them by the balls, their hearts and minds will follow." WOODWARD nods, heads back toward the files as we CUT TO: WOODWARD AT HIS DESK dialing the phone. He's got the Colson file spread out now, and we see pictures of the man and articles the Post had done on him. But basically what we see is WOODWARD plugging away on the goddamn phone and you'd think his finger would fall off from all the dialing and you know his voice is tiring as this montage goes on, you can hear it grow raspy. But a lot of what a reporter does he does on the phone, and that's what we're compressing here. The dialing never stops, the voices are continuous. WOODWARD Hello, I'm Bob Woodward of the Washing Post and... (beat) Mullen and Company Public Relations? Could you tell me when you expect Mr. Hunt? (surprised) He is? HUNT (V.O.) Howard Hunt here. WOODWARD Hi, I'm Bob Woodward of the Post and-- HUNT (V.O.) (impatient) --yes, yes, what is it? WOODWARD I was just kind of wondering why your name and phone number were in the address books of two of the men arrested at Watergate? HUNT (V.O.) (blind panic) Good God! And he bangs the phone down sharply-- --more dialing SOUNDS. Now snatches of conversation-- WOODWARD I'm sorry to bother you, Mr. Bennett, but we're doing some investigating of one of your employees, Howard Hunt. BENNETT (V.O.) Well, if you've been doing some investigating then obviously it's no secret to you that Howard was with the C.I.A. WOODWARD (he hadn't known) No secret at all. More dialing. Then-- WOODWARD (tired, voice deeper) Hello, C.I.A. This is R.W. Woodward, of the Washington Post--get me Personnel-- Dialing again. WOODWARD's voice is showing genuine fatigue. WOODWARD Hi, I'm Bob Woodward of the Washington Post--and--what's that?--you've never heard of me?--I can't help that--you don't believe I'm with the Post?-- what do you want me to do, Madam, shout "extra--extra"? There is the SOUND of the phone being slammed down in his ear. Hard. Now-- CUT TO: ROSENFELD AND SIMONS approaching WOODWARD who is working at his desk. He has put in a lot of hours on this and looks it. ROSENFELD Whaddya got, whaddya got? WOODWARD Hunt is Colson's man-- (to SIMONS, explaining) --that's Charles Colson, Nixon's special counsel-- (SIMONS almost says something, decides against it) --they both went to Brown University-- (consulting his notes) --Hunt worked for the C.I.A. till '70, and this is on deep background, the FBI thinks he's involved with the break-in. SIMONS What else have you got? WOODWARD According to White House personnel, Hunt definitely works there as a consultant for Colson. But when I called the White House Press office, they said he hadn't worked there for three months. Then the P.R. guy said the weirdest thing to me. (reading) "I am convinced that neither Mr. Colson nor anyone else at the White House had any knowledge of, or participation in, this deplorable incident at the Democratic National Committee." He looks up at them. SIMONS Isn't that what you'd expect them to say? WOODWARD Absolutely. ROSENFELD So? WOODWARD (he's got something and he knows it) I never asked them about Watergate. I only said what were Hunt's duties at the White House. They volunteered that he was innocent when nobody asked was he guilty. ROSENFELD (to SIMONS) I think we got a White House consultant linked to the bugging. SIMONS (nods) Just be careful how you write it. CUT TO: WOODWARD TYPING LIKE MAD, makes a mistake, corrects it, types on muttering to himself, and-- CUT TO: ROSENFELD IN HIS OFFICE munching a handful of Maalox tablets and-- CUT TO: WOODWARD taking a sheet from his typewriter, hurrying off and-- CUT TO: ROSENFELD taking the sheet from WOODWARD-- WOODWARD Here's the first take-- ROSENFELD nods, shows him out and-- CUT TO: WOODWARD BACK AT HIS MACHINE typing faster then before, makes another mistake, starts to correct it, glances around and-- CUT TO: ROSENFELD IN HIS OFFICE gesturing to somebody but not WOODWARD and-- CUT TO: WOODWARD watching as BERNSTEIN appears in view from behind the wide pillar by WOODWARD's desk, heads toward ROSENFELD's office. WOODWARD shrugs, goes back to his typing, makes a typo immediately, glances over toward ROSENFELD's office, freezes as we-- CUT TO: ROSENFELD handing some papers to BERNSTEIN. They look, from this distance, suspiciously like WOODWARD's story. CUT TO: BERNSTEIN hurrying out of ROSENFELD's office, and-- CUT TO: WOODWARD watching BERNSTEIN until he disappears out of sight behind the pillar. WOODWARD hesitates, finally goes back to his typing, makes another mistake, fixes it, makes still another, his temper is shortly to make itself known-- CUT TO: ROSENFELD as WOODWARD hands him another sheet of paper. WOODWARD This is all of it, Harry. ROSENFELD NODS, takes it, immediately starts to read as we-- CUT TO: WOODWARD AT HIS DESK watching as ROSENFELD gestures again. There is a pause. Then BERNSTEIN appears from behind the pillar and-- CUT TO: ROSENFELD handing BERNSTEIN another sheet of paper. BERSTEIN nods, takes it, walks back toward his desk, disappears behind the pillar again. WOODWARD is starting to steam. Now-- CUT TO: BERNSTEIN AT HIS DESK typing magnificently, his hands rising and falling like Rubinstein's. Behind him is the pillar and for a moment there is nothing--then, very slowly, a figure peers out from behind the pillar--it is WOODWARD. He watches. BERNSTEIN continues to type, then after a moment, rests, thinks, shifts around in his chair and as his glance starts toward the pillar-- CUT TO: THE PILLAR. WOODWARD is gone. CUT TO: BERNSTEIN typing madly away. THE PILLAR. WOODWARD is visible again, eyes very bright... now-- CUT TO: BERNSTEIN finishing typing, his hands moving majestically. WOODWARD comes up behind him, stands looking a second. Then-- WOODWARD We have to talk. BERNSTEIN nods, grabs the papers both that he's been typing and that he's been copying from. And as he rises-- PAN TO: WOODWARD AND BERNSTEIN walking silently out of the newsroom then turning left down a darker corridor, passing bulletin boards and wall lockers and it's all nice and quiet as they amble on, nodding to the few people they pass on their way and after a while they turn right and enter the coffee lounge which is empty; the walls are lined with Norman Rockwell reproductions and various kinds of vending machines are visible, selling coffee or milk or fruit or sandwiches and there are some plastic tables and chairs and the minute they are alone, the silence ends. WOODWARD What the hell were you doing rewriting my story-- BERNSTEIN --I sure couldn't hurt it, could I?-- WOODWARD --it was fine the way it was-- BERNSTEIN --it was bullshit the way it was-- WOODWARD --I have to stand here and listen to the staff correspondent from Virginia?-- BERNSTEIN (a sore subject) --what have you been here, nine months?--I been in this business since I was sixteen-- WOODWARD --and you've had some fucking meteoric rise, that's for sure--by the time you turn forty you might be the head of the Montana bureau-- BERNSTEIN --you only got the job because both you and Bradlee went to Yale-- WOODWARD --Bradlee went to Harvard-- BERNSTEIN --they're all the same, all those Ivy League places--they teach you about striped ties and suddenly you're smart-- WOODWARD --I'm smart enough to know my story was solid-- BERNSTEIN --mine's better-- WOODWARD --no way-- BERNSTEIN (handing them over) --read 'em both and you'll see-- And as WOODWARD glances at the two stories-- CUT TO: BERNSTEIN watching. Now-- CUT TO: WOODWARD. He glances from one story to the other. Then, disconsolately-- WOODWARD ...crap... And he sinks down in a chair. BERNSTEIN Is mine better? WOODWARD nods. WOODWARD (handing the stories back) What is it about my writing that's so rotten? BERNSTEIN (as he exits) Mainly it has to do with your choice of words. And as he goes, leaving WOODWARD just sitting there-- CUT TO: BERSTEIN, re-entering the newsroom, returning to his desk. He starts to insert some papers into his typewriter, hesitates, lights a cigarette. He inhales, as, behind him, WOODWARD briefly is visible going to his desk behind the pillar. Finally BERNSTEIN inserts the paper, starts to type as WOODWARD (V.O.) (from behind the pillar) Carl? BERNSTEIN (turns) Yeah? WOODWARD (pushing his chair briefly into view) Fuck you, Carl. And as he rolls forward again, out of sight-- CUT TO: RICHARD NIXON ON THE TUBE. (It's the June 22 Press Conference.) He talks on about something, it doesn't matter exactly what here, the point is, it should include that strange smile of his that kept appearing when the man should not have been smiling. Hints of pressure maybe, that's all, and once it's established-- PULL BACK TO REVEAL: WOODWARD sitting alone, gloomily staring at the set. We're in the Post Cafeteria, it's the next morning, and the place is pretty much empty. He sips the coffee, it tastes rotten. BERNSTEIN moves up behind him, carrying a cup of coffee of his own. He stands by WOODWARD briefly. BERNSTEIN You heard? (WOODWARD glances up) They put us both on the break-in thing. Simons liked the way we worked together. (WOODWARD nods, BERNSTEIN sits down) Listen, I'm sorry I said your story was bullshit. WOODWARD It's OK; I'm sorry I called you a failure. BERNSTEIN Forget it, the main thing-- (stops) --did you call me a failure? WOODWARD I was sure trying. CUT TO: WOODWARD, BERNSTEIN, AND NIXON. The way it's shot, it's almost as if they're watching each other; NIXON staring out from the TV set, answering questions. WOODWARD and BERNSTEIN sip coffee. We don't know yet--or better, they don't know it yet, but these are our adversaries. CUT TO: WOODWARD AND BERNSTEIN, without NIXON now. They sit at the table. Occasionally, NIXON is audible in the background. WOODWARD All right, what do we know? BERNSTEIN Let me lay a little theory on you-- WOODWARD (cutting him off) --I'm not interested in theory. What do we know? For example, Hunt's disappeared. BERNSTEIN Well, Barker tried to get blueprints of the Miami Convention Center and the air-conditioning system. WOODWARD And McCord was carrying an application for college press credentials for the Democratic convention. (to BERNSTEIN) The Times has got to be full of it-- it can't be crazy Cubans. BERNSTEIN What, though? (points to Nixon) It can't be the Republicans--he'd never allow something as stupid as this, not when he's gonna slaughter McGovern anyway. WOODWARD Right. Nixon didn't get where he got by being dumb-- (stops abruptly) --listen, that was a Watergate question-- CUT TO: NIXON ON THE TUBE. Serious now. NIXON The White House has had no involvement whatever in this particular incident. CUT TO: WOODWARD AND BERNSTEIN staring at the set thinking... CUT TO: WOODWARD AND BERNSTEIN walking toward BERSTEIN'S desk. WOODWARD Hey? BERNSTEIN Hmm. WOODWARD What do you think he meant, this particular incident? Were there others? How would we find out? You know anyone important? BERNSTEIN (sits, shakes his head) I lived here all my life, I got a million contacts, but they're all bus boys and bellhops. The reporter KEN RINGLE at the next desk watches them a moment. Then-- RINGLE What do you need? BERNSTEIN Someone inside the White House would be nice. RINGLE (writes down phone number) Call her. She worked for Colson, if that's any help. As BERNSTEIN grabs for the phone-- CUT TO: A SECRETARIAL POOL IN A LARGE OFFICE. BERNSTEIN is talking off to one side with an attractive girl. GIRL Kenny's crazy, I never worked for Colson, I worked for an assistant. Colson was big on secrets anyway. Even if I had worked for him, I wouldn't have known anything. BERNSTEIN Nothing at all you can remember? SECRETARY (headshake) Sorry. (pause) Now if it was Hunt you were interested in-- BERNSTEIN --Howard Hunt? SECRETARY Sure. Him I liked, he was a very nice person. Secretive too, traveled all over, but a decent man. BERNSTEIN Any idea what he did? SECRETARY Oh, the scuttlebutt for awhile was he was investigating Kennedy-- BERNSTEIN --Teddy Kennedy? SECRETARY Sure. I remember seeing a book about Chappaquiddick on his desk and he was always getting material out of the White House Library and the Library of Congress and-- And as

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All the President's Men Script at IMSDb. var _gaq = _gaq || []; _gaq.push(['_setAccount', 'UA-3785444-3']); _gaq.push(['_trackPageview']); (function() { var ga = document.createElement('script'); ga.type = 'text/javascript'; ga.async = true; ga.src = ('https:' == document.location.protocol ? 'https://ssl' : 'http://www') + '.google-analytics.com/ga.js'; var s = document.getElementsByTagName('script')[0]; s.parentNode.insertBefore(ga, s); })(); The Internet Movie Script Database (IMSDb) The web's largest movie script resource! Search IMSDb Alphabetical # A B C D E F G H I J K L M N O P Q R S T U V W X Y Z Genre Action Adventure Animation Comedy Crime Drama Family Fantasy Film-Noir Horror Musical Mystery Romance Sci-Fi Short Thriller War Western Sponsor TV Transcripts Futurama Seinfeld South Park Stargate SG-1 Lost The 4400 International French scripts Movie Software Rip from DVD Rip Blu-Ray Latest Comments Star Wars: Revenge of the Sith10/10 Star Wars: The Force Awakens10/10 Batman Begins9/10 Collateral10/10 Jackie Brown8/10 Movie Chat Message Yell ! ALL SCRIPTS ALL THE PRESIDENT'S MEN - by William Goldman if (window!= top) top.location.href=location.href // --> "ALL THE PRESIDENT'S MEN" by William Goldman Based on the novel "All The President's Men" by Carl Bernstein and Bob Woodward Pre-rehearsal version March, 1975 Start with as few credits as possible. When they're over-- FADE IN ON: A TINY BLACK PIECE OF TAPE. We see it in the center of the large, dimly lit screen. As the tape is pressed around a door-- BEGIN THE BREAK-IN SEQUENCE. It's a major piece of action, running maybe five minutes and it's all as detailed and accurate as we can make it, with as many "if only's" included as possible. ("If only" the tape had been attached up and down instead of around the door, Wills wouldn't have spotted it and alerted the police; "if only" the first police car called had gone to investigate, Baldwin, watching from the Howard Johnson Motor Inn, would have seen their uniforms and radioed Hunt and Liddy in time for them to have gotten to the five burglars and then safely away.) The break-in ends when Leeper arrests the five men. He thought he only had one guy, so when ten hands were raised he was surprised. The hands are all encased in Playtex rubber surgical gloves. HOLD on the hands a moment; then-- GO TO: A DARK APARTMENT. The phone rings. WOODWARD fumbles for the receiver, turns on the bed light. He listens a moment. WOODWARD No, no trouble, Harry, be right down. (he hangs up) Son of a bitch. He lies back. The apartment is one room, a small terrace beyond. Not much of a place. WOODWARD lies still, staring at the ceiling. He blinks, blinks again. HOLD... CUT TO: THE ENORMOUS FIFTH FLOOR OF THE WASHINGTON POST. It looks, early of a Saturday morning, pretty deserted. Those reporters that are around are young, bright, and presently involved in nothing more taxing than drinking coffee and thumbing through the papers. HARRY ROSENFELD surveys the scene from his office doorway as WOODWARD approaches, hangs his coat at his desk, not far from where ROSENFELD is standing. ROSENFELD Where's that cheery face we've come to know and love? WOODWARD You call me in on my day off because some idiots have broken into local Democratic Headquarters--tell me, Harry, why should I be smiling? ROSENFELD As usual, that keen mind of yours has pegged the situation perfectly. (chomps on some Maalox tablets) Except (a) it wasn't local Democratic Headquarters, it was National Democratic Headquarters-- (WOODWARD is surprised-- he hadn't known) --and (b) these weren't just any idiots, these were special idiots, seeing as when they were arrested at 2:30 this morning, they were all wearing business suits and Playtex gloves and were carrying-- (consults a piece of paper) --a walkie-talkie, forty rolls of film, cameras, lock picks, pen-sized tear gas guns, plus various bugging devices. (puts paper down) Not to mention over two thousand dollars, mostly in sequenced hundred dollar bills. WOODWARD Preliminary hearing at Superior Courthouse? ROSENFELD (nods) Two o'clock, work the phones 'til you go. CUT TO: THE CRIMINAL COURTS BUILDING. WOODWARD hurries along, goes inside as we CUT TO: A CORRIDOR INSIDE. WOODWARD comes down it, looks around, sees a door marked "Counsel's Offices" and heads toward it. Now-- CUT TO: A CLERK AT A DESK as WOODWARD comes up. Behind them, two lawyers are clearly angry about something, talking and gesticulating to each other. WOODWARD (to the COUNSEL'S CLERK) Could you give me the names of the lawyers for the men arrested in the Watergate. CLERK These two were appointed-- (indicates the angry men) --only now it turns out the burglars got their own counsel. (he starts to laugh) FIRST ANGRY LAWYER (to CLERK) When you gonna stop thinking it's so funny. SECOND ANGRY LAWYER (To CLERK) We wouldda done a terrific job protecting those guys. (neither lawyer, by the way, is Clarence Darrow) FIRST ANGRY LAWYER You think we're not as good as some hotshot fancy lawyer?-- CUT TO: THE COURTROOM and business is booming. Muggers, pimp, hookers, their families and friends. In the scene that follows, a constant counterpoint is what's going on up at the front as an endless succession of petty criminals caught the previous night, the aforementioned muggers, pimps, and hookers, are shuttled in, given a quick appearance before a JUDGE who sets bond, and then shuttled out. In the audience, one man stands out--DOUGLAS CADDY. He is extremely well-dressed and obviously successful. Beside him sits another smaller man, who is unshaven and squints. WOODWARD moves in, sits alongside CADDY. WOODWARD Mr. Caddy? My name's Bob Woodward, I'm from the Post and I wanted to ask about how you happened to come on this case-- CADDY --I'm not here. WOODWARD (nods) OK. He takes out a small notebook, writes, muttering aloud as he does. WOODWARD Douglas Caddy, the attorney of record, when questioned about his presence in the courtroom, denied he was in the courtroom, "I'm not here," Mr. Caddy said. CADDY (impatiently) Clearly, I am here, but only as an individual, I'm not the attorney of record. (indicating unshaven man) Mr. Rafferty has that position. Whatever you want, you'll have to get from him, I have nothing more to say. And as he gets up, walks off-- CUT TO: THE WATER FOUNTAIN IN THE CORRIDOR. There is a small line. CADDY waits at the end of it. WOODWARD (moving in behind him) Mr. Rafferty was very helpful. Four Cuban-Americans and this other man, James McCord. CADDY Look, I told you inside-- WOODWARD --you have nothing more to say, I understand that. CADDY turns away; WOODWARD goes right on. WOODWARD What I don't understand is how you got here. CADDY I assure you, there's nothing mysterious involved. WOODWARD Probably you're right, but a little while ago, I was talking to a couple of lawyers who'd been assigned to represent the burglars. CADDY So? WOODWARD Well, they never would have been assigned if anyone had known the burglars had arranged for their own counsel. And that could only mean the burglars didn't arrange for their own counsel--they never even made a phone call. (looks at CADDY) So if they didn't ask for you to be here, how did you know to come? Without a word, CADDY turns, leaves the line without getting a drink. Silently, WOODWARD watches. Now-- CUT TO: CADDY seated as before beside RAFFERTY. WOODWARD's voice come from behind him, and as CADDY turns, WOODWARD is seated one row back. WOODWARD Did you know to come because one of the other men involved in the break- in called you? CADDY (turning) There is no reason to assume other people were involved. WOODWARD Your clients were arrested with a walkie-talkie; they didn't need that to talk among themselves. CADDY looks at WOODWARD, turns back. CADDY (turning back) They are not my clients. WOODWARD You're a lawyer and you're here-- CADDY --I met one of the defendants, Mr. Barker, at a social occasion once-- (stops himself) --I have nothing more to say. WOODWARD (leaning forward as CADDY turns away again) A Miami social occasion? (explaining) Mr. Rafferty told me the Cubans were from Miami. CADDY (sighing) Barker's wife called me at three this morning; her husband apparently had told her to call if he hadn't called her by then. WOODWARD It was really nice of you to come, since you'd only met him once. CADDY Are you implying you don't believe me? WOODWARD I have nothing more to say. CADDY You don't mind getting on people's nerves, do you? WOODWARD considers this a moment. Then-- WOODWARD Nope. And on that word-- CUT TO: THE COURTROOM as without warning, it quiets. There is suddenly a tremendous air of expectancy, you can feel it. Now we see why as five men in dark business suits are led in; they've been stripped of belts, ties, and shoelaces. McCord is taller than the others. They stand, facing the JUDGE, backs to the audience. WOODWARD sits watching as the proceedings start, but it's hard to hear. He concentrates as the JUDGE starts speaking. JUDGE Will you please state your professions. The five men do not move or reply. Then, after a long pause, Barker says-- BARKER Anti-Communists. JUDGE Anti-Communists? (perplexed) That, sir, is not your average occupation. WOODWARD starts moving forward now, down an aisle, moving past kids and whores and all the rest, trying to hear what the hell's going on. At the front of the spectator's section is a fence-like wooden barricade about three feet high. As he approaches it-- The JUDGE indicates the bald burglar. JUDGE Your name, please. MCCORD James McCord. JUDGE Will you step forward, sir. (MCCORD obeys) WOODWARD at the bench is leaning forward, trying to hear but it's hard. JUDGE And what is your occupation, Mr. McCord? MCCORD (softly) Security consultant. JUDGE Where? MCCORD (softer) Government. Recently retired. JUDGE Where in government? MCCORD (we can't really make this out) ...Central... Intelligence... Agency... JUDGE (he can't either) Where? MCCORD (clearing his throat) The C.I.A. And on these words, ZOOM TO: CLOSE UP--WOODWARD leaning over the fence practically falling over it in a desperate straining effort to catch what's going on. WOODWARD (stunned) Holy shit. Now from the courtroom-- CUT TO: THOUSANDS AND THOUSANDS OF WASHINGTON POSTS. We are at the end of the press run, the papers are all assembled and being cabled and sent off by machine to various places. As the papers continue to roll past-- A UNION TYPE EMPLOYEE grabs a paper, looks at the front page. The Watergate story, headlined whatever it was headlined, is visible. The byline was by Alfred E. Lewis. The union type Post employee glances at the article-- UNION POST EMPLOYEE (reading half-aloud) "Five men, one of whom said he is a former employee..." (stops reading, gives a shrug) Schmucks. And he turns happily to the sports section-- CUT TO: A CLOSE UP OF HUNDRED DOLLAR BILLS. It's new money and looks as if it's been recently ironed. Someone is going through the cash, making a quick count. During this-- FIRST VOICE (V.O.) Hurry it, huh, Bachinski? BACHINSKI You said I could look at it-- PULL BACK TO REVEAL We're in a room in a police station and two men are present. One, a COP, is nervous as hell and constantly aware of the door. The other, BACHINSKI, is taking hurried notes in a reporter's type notebook as he examines the evidence. COP --I said look, not memorize-- BACHINSKI --almost done, give it a rest, all right... (and he looks at an address book, he stops) CUT TO: THE ADDRESS BOOK. Beside the name "Howard E. Hunt" is the notation "W.House." Now, BACHINSKI hurriedly opens the other book to the letter "H" and there is the same name, "Howard E. Hunt" and beside it, the letters, "W.H." COP (V.O.) What'd you find? BACHINSKI (V.O.) Beats me. These notebooks belonged to Cuban guys? COP (V.O.) S'right. BACHINSKI (V.O.) It's gotta mean either White House or whore house, one or the other. We HOLD on the HUNT name, and the address notations. Then-- CUT TO: WOODWARD'S APARTMENT - NIGHT. The phone rings, waking him. He fumbles for the phone and the light, finally gets them both. WOODWARD Bachinski? (reaches for a notebook) What?--hold it-- (gets it open, starts to write) --OK, go on, go on... CUT TO: A BOX OF MAALOX TABLETS. ROSENFELD is opening them, we're in his office, WOODWARD sits across the desk, holding the notebook we saw him writing in. ROSENFELD ...go on, go on... WOODWARD That's everything Bachinski had, I think it's worth following up. ROSENFELD Don't know; who the hell's Howard Hunt? (crunches tablets) It's probably nothing but check it out. Just go easy, it could be crazy Cubans. HOWARD SIMONS sticks his head in the office. SIMONS Anything? ROSENFELD Woodward's onto a new wrinkle with the break-in thing--absolute page one stuff-- SIMONS --in other words, you got nothing, you're thumbsucking. ROSENFELD (shrugs) Could develop. SIMONS Let me see what you get, but don't jump--The New York Times thinks it's crazy Cubans. He moves on. ROSENFELD turns quickly to WOODWARD. ROSENFELD OK, get on this W.House guy and do a better job then you did on McCord. WOODWARD I did all right on McCord. ROSENFELD Then how come the Associated Press were the ones found out that Mr. McCord is security coordinator for the Committee to Re-elect the President, otherwise known as CREEP? WOODWARD (getting it straight) The head of security for the reelection of a Republican President got caught bugging the national offices of the Democrats? What the hell does that mean? ROSENFELD (hasn't the foggiest) Mr. John Mitchell, the head of CREEP, says it means nothing. (reads) "...This man and the other people involved were not operating on either our behalf or with our consent. These is no place in our campaign or in the electoral process for this type of activity, and we will not forget it or condone it." WOODWARD (getting up) You can't believe that. ROSENFELD As a rough rule of thumb, as far as I can throw Bronco Nagurski, that's how much I trust John Mitchell... Now-- CUT TO: A MOON-FACED MAN RINGING A TRIANGLE. CUT TO: THE NEWSROOM as the triangle sound echoes. HOWARD SIMONS leaves large Managing Editor's office, walks past another office, knocks twice on the glass wall. Inside the Executive Editor's office, BEN BRADLEE sits. As SIMONS knocks, he turns, nods. He appears, for the moment, deep in thought. HARRY ROSENFELD on the opposite end of the room hurries out of his office, following a bunch of editors, all of them heading across the huge room. As he passes WOODWARD's desk ROSENFELD pauses. ROSENFELD What'd you get on W.House? WOODWARD (massaging his neck) Lotsa hints-- ROSENFELD (not happy) I can't sell hints to Simons-- (stops, looks at piece of yellow paper) --you called everyone you know? (WOODWARD makes a nod) Call someone you don't know. WOODWARD continues to rub his neck as ROSENFELD hurries off, all the editors still moving toward the place where the moon- faced man intermittently rings the triangle. WOODWARD picks up the sheet of yellow paper from his desk. Lined, legal-sized, it is crammed with names and numbers and addresses. They are in no neat order; looking at them it's almost like following a path; chicken tracks in ink. WOODWARD mutters "to hell with it" and reaches for a thick book, flips it open. NOW WE SEE THE BOOK: It's the Washington Phone Directory and we're in the W's. As WOODWARD's finger stops, we can see he's looking at the White HOuse entry number. There it is, just like your name and mine. Listed. Now WOODWARD starts to dial, visibly nervous, a fact he tries very hard to keep out of his voice tone. WHITE HOUSE OPERATOR (V.O.) White House. WOODWARD (casually) Howard Hunt, please. Throughout the following call, we stay on WOODWARD's face, hear the other voices. WHITE HOUSE OPERATOR (V.O.) Mr. Hunt does not answer. WOODWARD is delighted he's even there. WOODWARD Thanks, anyway-- And he's about to hang up, when-- WHITE HOUSE OPERATOR (V.O.) I'll bet he's in Mr. Colson's office. Let me connect you. SECRETARY (V.O.) Charles Colson's wire. WOODWARD (a little more excited) Howard Hunt, please. SECRETARY (V.O.) Mr. Hunt isn't here just now. WOODWARD Thanks, anyway. And he's about to hang up again when-- SECRETARY (V.O.) Have you tried Mullen and Company Public Relations? He works at Mullen and Company Public Relations as a writer. The number is 555-1313. I'm sorry I couldn't be more helpful. WOODWARD Listen, forget it. He hangs up, sits there. His hands are a little twitchy... HOLD. Now-- CUT TO: ROSENFELD hurrying (he always hurries) toward his office. WOODWARD, looking for something in his desk throughout this scene, speaks to him. WOODWARD Who's Charles Colson? ROSENFELD (stops dead) I would liken your query to being in Russia half a century ago and asking someone, "I understand who Lenin is and Trotsky I got too, but who's this yokel Stalin?" WOODWARD Who's Colson, Harry? ROSENFELD The most powerful man in America is President Nixon, probably you've heard his name. WOODWARD, unfazed by anything, continues to open drawers, close them, as ROSENFELD rolls on. ROSENFELD The second most powerful man is Robert Haldeman. Just below him are a trio: Mr. Erlichman is Haldeman's friend, and they protect the President from everybody which is why they are referred to as either The German Shepherds or the Berlin Wall. Mr. Mitchell we've already discussed. Mr. Colson is the President's special counsel. WOODWARD (rising) Thanks, Harry. (looks at ROSENFELD) Know anything about Colson? ROSENFELD Just that on his office wall there's a cartoon with a caption reading, "When you've got them by the balls, their hearts and minds will follow." WOODWARD nods, heads back toward the files as we CUT TO: WOODWARD AT HIS DESK dialing the phone. He's got the Colson file spread out now, and we see pictures of the man and articles the Post had done on him. But basically what we see is WOODWARD plugging away on the goddamn phone and you'd think his finger would fall off from all the dialing and you know his voice is tiring as this montage goes on, you can hear it grow raspy. But a lot of what a reporter does he does on the phone, and that's what we're compressing here. The dialing never stops, the voices are continuous. WOODWARD Hello, I'm Bob Woodward of the Washing Post and... (beat) Mullen and Company Public Relations? Could you tell me when you expect Mr. Hunt? (surprised) He is? HUNT (V.O.) Howard Hunt here. WOODWARD Hi, I'm Bob Woodward of the Post and-- HUNT (V.O.) (impatient) --yes, yes, what is it? WOODWARD I was just kind of wondering why your name and phone number were in the address books of two of the men arrested at Watergate? HUNT (V.O.) (blind panic) Good God! And he bangs the phone down sharply-- --more dialing SOUNDS. Now snatches of conversation-- WOODWARD I'm sorry to bother you, Mr. Bennett, but we're doing some investigating of one of your employees, Howard Hunt. BENNETT (V.O.) Well, if you've been doing some investigating then obviously it's no secret to you that Howard was with the C.I.A. WOODWARD (he hadn't known) No secret at all. More dialing. Then-- WOODWARD (tired, voice deeper) Hello, C.I.A. This is R.W. Woodward, of the Washington Post--get me Personnel-- Dialing again. WOODWARD's voice is showing genuine fatigue. WOODWARD Hi, I'm Bob Woodward of the Washington Post--and--what's that?--you've never heard of me?--I can't help that--you don't believe I'm with the Post?-- what do you want me to do, Madam, shout "extra--extra"? There is the SOUND of the phone being slammed down in his ear. Hard. Now-- CUT TO: ROSENFELD AND SIMONS approaching WOODWARD who is working at his desk. He has put in a lot of hours on this and looks it. ROSENFELD Whaddya got, whaddya got? WOODWARD Hunt is Colson's man-- (to SIMONS, explaining) --that's Charles Colson, Nixon's special counsel-- (SIMONS almost says something, decides against it) --they both went to Brown University-- (consulting his notes) --Hunt worked for the C.I.A. till '70, and this is on deep background, the FBI thinks he's involved with the break-in. SIMONS What else have you got? WOODWARD According to White House personnel, Hunt definitely works there as a consultant for Colson. But when I called the White House Press office, they said he hadn't worked there for three months. Then the P.R. guy said the weirdest thing to me. (reading) "I am convinced that neither Mr. Colson nor anyone else at the White House had any knowledge of, or participation in, this deplorable incident at the Democratic National Committee." He looks up at them. SIMONS Isn't that what you'd expect them to say? WOODWARD Absolutely. ROSENFELD So? WOODWARD (he's got something and he knows it) I never asked them about Watergate. I only said what were Hunt's duties at the White House. They volunteered that he was innocent when nobody asked was he guilty. ROSENFELD (to SIMONS) I think we got a White House consultant linked to the bugging. SIMONS (nods) Just be careful how you write it. CUT TO: WOODWARD TYPING LIKE MAD, makes a mistake, corrects it, types on muttering to himself, and-- CUT TO: ROSENFELD IN HIS OFFICE munching a handful of Maalox tablets and-- CUT TO: WOODWARD taking a sheet from his typewriter, hurrying off and-- CUT TO: ROSENFELD taking the sheet from WOODWARD-- WOODWARD Here's the first take-- ROSENFELD nods, shows him out and-- CUT TO: WOODWARD BACK AT HIS MACHINE typing faster then before, makes another mistake, starts to correct it, glances around and-- CUT TO: ROSENFELD IN HIS OFFICE gesturing to somebody but not WOODWARD and-- CUT TO: WOODWARD watching as BERNSTEIN appears in view from behind the wide pillar by WOODWARD's desk, heads toward ROSENFELD's office. WOODWARD shrugs, goes back to his typing, makes a typo immediately, glances over toward ROSENFELD's office, freezes as we-- CUT TO: ROSENFELD handing some papers to BERNSTEIN. They look, from this distance, suspiciously like WOODWARD's story. CUT TO: BERNSTEIN hurrying out of ROSENFELD's office, and-- CUT TO: WOODWARD watching BERNSTEIN until he disappears out of sight behind the pillar. WOODWARD hesitates, finally goes back to his typing, makes another mistake, fixes it, makes still another, his temper is shortly to make itself known-- CUT TO: ROSENFELD as WOODWARD hands him another sheet of paper. WOODWARD This is all of it, Harry. ROSENFELD NODS, takes it, immediately starts to read as we-- CUT TO: WOODWARD AT HIS DESK watching as ROSENFELD gestures again. There is a pause. Then BERNSTEIN appears from behind the pillar and-- CUT TO: ROSENFELD handing BERNSTEIN another sheet of paper. BERSTEIN nods, takes it, walks back toward his desk, disappears behind the pillar again. WOODWARD is starting to steam. Now-- CUT TO: BERNSTEIN AT HIS DESK typing magnificently, his hands rising and falling like Rubinstein's. Behind him is the pillar and for a moment there is nothing--then, very slowly, a figure peers out from behind the pillar--it is WOODWARD. He watches. BERNSTEIN continues to type, then after a moment, rests, thinks, shifts around in his chair and as his glance starts toward the pillar-- CUT TO: THE PILLAR. WOODWARD is gone. CUT TO: BERNSTEIN typing madly away. THE PILLAR. WOODWARD is visible again, eyes very bright... now-- CUT TO: BERNSTEIN finishing typing, his hands moving majestically. WOODWARD comes up behind him, stands looking a second. Then-- WOODWARD We have to talk. BERNSTEIN nods, grabs the papers both that he's been typing and that he's been copying from. And as he rises-- PAN TO: WOODWARD AND BERNSTEIN walking silently out of the newsroom then turning left down a darker corridor, passing bulletin boards and wall lockers and it's all nice and quiet as they amble on, nodding to the few people they pass on their way and after a while they turn right and enter the coffee lounge which is empty; the walls are lined with Norman Rockwell reproductions and various kinds of vending machines are visible, selling coffee or milk or fruit or sandwiches and there are some plastic tables and chairs and the minute they are alone, the silence ends. WOODWARD What the hell were you doing rewriting my story-- BERNSTEIN --I sure couldn't hurt it, could I?-- WOODWARD --it was fine the way it was-- BERNSTEIN --it was bullshit the way it was-- WOODWARD --I have to stand here and listen to the staff correspondent from Virginia?-- BERNSTEIN (a sore subject) --what have you been here, nine months?--I been in this business since I was sixteen-- WOODWARD --and you've had some fucking meteoric rise, that's for sure--by the time you turn forty you might be the head of the Montana bureau-- BERNSTEIN --you only got the job because both you and Bradlee went to Yale-- WOODWARD --Bradlee went to Harvard-- BERNSTEIN --they're all the same, all those Ivy League places--they teach you about striped ties and suddenly you're smart-- WOODWARD --I'm smart enough to know my story was solid-- BERNSTEIN --mine's better-- WOODWARD --no way-- BERNSTEIN (handing them over) --read 'em both and you'll see-- And as WOODWARD glances at the two stories-- CUT TO: BERNSTEIN watching. Now-- CUT TO: WOODWARD. He glances from one story to the other. Then, disconsolately-- WOODWARD ...crap... And he sinks down in a chair. BERNSTEIN Is mine better? WOODWARD nods. WOODWARD (handing the stories back) What is it about my writing that's so rotten? BERNSTEIN (as he exits) Mainly it has to do with your choice of words. And as he goes, leaving WOODWARD just sitting there-- CUT TO: BERSTEIN, re-entering the newsroom, returning to his desk. He starts to insert some papers into his typewriter, hesitates, lights a cigarette. He inhales, as, behind him, WOODWARD briefly is visible going to his desk behind the pillar. Finally BERNSTEIN inserts the paper, starts to type as WOODWARD (V.O.) (from behind the pillar) Carl? BERNSTEIN (turns) Yeah? WOODWARD (pushing his chair briefly into view) Fuck you, Carl. And as he rolls forward again, out of sight-- CUT TO: RICHARD NIXON ON THE TUBE. (It's the June 22 Press Conference.) He talks on about something, it doesn't matter exactly what here, the point is, it should include that strange smile of his that kept appearing when the man should not have been smiling. Hints of pressure maybe, that's all, and once it's established-- PULL BACK TO REVEAL: WOODWARD sitting alone, gloomily staring at the set. We're in the Post Cafeteria, it's the next morning, and the place is pretty much empty. He sips the coffee, it tastes rotten. BERNSTEIN moves up behind him, carrying a cup of coffee of his own. He stands by WOODWARD briefly. BERNSTEIN You heard? (WOODWARD glances up) They put us both on the break-in thing. Simons liked the way we worked together. (WOODWARD nods, BERNSTEIN sits down) Listen, I'm sorry I said your story was bullshit. WOODWARD It's OK; I'm sorry I called you a failure. BERNSTEIN Forget it, the main thing-- (stops) --did you call me a failure? WOODWARD I was sure trying. CUT TO: WOODWARD, BERNSTEIN, AND NIXON. The way it's shot, it's almost as if they're watching each other; NIXON staring out from the TV set, answering questions. WOODWARD and BERNSTEIN sip coffee. We don't know yet--or better, they don't know it yet, but these are our adversaries. CUT TO: WOODWARD AND BERNSTEIN, without NIXON now. They sit at the table. Occasionally, NIXON is audible in the background. WOODWARD All right, what do we know? BERNSTEIN Let me lay a little theory on you-- WOODWARD (cutting him off) --I'm not interested in theory. What do we know? For example, Hunt's disappeared. BERNSTEIN Well, Barker tried to get blueprints of the Miami Convention Center and the air-conditioning system. WOODWARD And McCord was carrying an application for college press credentials for the Democratic convention. (to BERNSTEIN) The Times has got to be full of it-- it can't be crazy Cubans. BERNSTEIN What, though? (points to Nixon) It can't be the Republicans--he'd never allow something as stupid as this, not when he's gonna slaughter McGovern anyway. WOODWARD Right. Nixon didn't get where he got by being dumb-- (stops abruptly) --listen, that was a Watergate question-- CUT TO: NIXON ON THE TUBE. Serious now. NIXON The White House has had no involvement whatever in this particular incident. CUT TO: WOODWARD AND BERNSTEIN staring at the set thinking... CUT TO: WOODWARD AND BERNSTEIN walking toward BERSTEIN'S desk. WOODWARD Hey? BERNSTEIN Hmm. WOODWARD What do you think he meant, this particular incident? Were there others? How would we find out? You know anyone important? BERNSTEIN (sits, shakes his head) I lived here all my life, I got a million contacts, but they're all bus boys and bellhops. The reporter KEN RINGLE at the next desk watches them a moment. Then-- RINGLE What do you need? BERNSTEIN Someone inside the White House would be nice. RINGLE (writes down phone number) Call her. She worked for Colson, if that's any help. As BERNSTEIN grabs for the phone-- CUT TO: A SECRETARIAL POOL IN A LARGE OFFICE. BERNSTEIN is talking off to one side with an attractive girl. GIRL Kenny's crazy, I never worked for Colson, I worked for an assistant. Colson was big on secrets anyway. Even if I had worked for him, I wouldn't have known anything. BERNSTEIN Nothing at all you can remember? SECRETARY (headshake) Sorry. (pause) Now if it was Hunt you were interested in-- BERNSTEIN --Howard Hunt? SECRETARY Sure. Him I liked, he was a very nice person. Secretive too, traveled all over, but a decent man. BERNSTEIN Any idea what he did? SECRETARY Oh, the scuttlebutt for awhile was he was investigating Kennedy-- BERNSTEIN --Teddy Kennedy? SECRETARY Sure. I remember seeing a book about Chappaquiddick on his desk and he was always getting material out of the White House Library and the Library of Congress and-- And as

wooden

How many times the word 'wooden' appears in the text?

All the President's Men Script at IMSDb. var _gaq = _gaq || []; _gaq.push(['_setAccount', 'UA-3785444-3']); _gaq.push(['_trackPageview']); (function() { var ga = document.createElement('script'); ga.type = 'text/javascript'; ga.async = true; ga.src = ('https:' == document.location.protocol ? 'https://ssl' : 'http://www') + '.google-analytics.com/ga.js'; var s = document.getElementsByTagName('script')[0]; s.parentNode.insertBefore(ga, s); })(); The Internet Movie Script Database (IMSDb) The web's largest movie script resource! Search IMSDb Alphabetical # A B C D E F G H I J K L M N O P Q R S T U V W X Y Z Genre Action Adventure Animation Comedy Crime Drama Family Fantasy Film-Noir Horror Musical Mystery Romance Sci-Fi Short Thriller War Western Sponsor TV Transcripts Futurama Seinfeld South Park Stargate SG-1 Lost The 4400 International French scripts Movie Software Rip from DVD Rip Blu-Ray Latest Comments Star Wars: Revenge of the Sith10/10 Star Wars: The Force Awakens10/10 Batman Begins9/10 Collateral10/10 Jackie Brown8/10 Movie Chat Message Yell ! ALL SCRIPTS ALL THE PRESIDENT'S MEN - by William Goldman if (window!= top) top.location.href=location.href // --> "ALL THE PRESIDENT'S MEN" by William Goldman Based on the novel "All The President's Men" by Carl Bernstein and Bob Woodward Pre-rehearsal version March, 1975 Start with as few credits as possible. When they're over-- FADE IN ON: A TINY BLACK PIECE OF TAPE. We see it in the center of the large, dimly lit screen. As the tape is pressed around a door-- BEGIN THE BREAK-IN SEQUENCE. It's a major piece of action, running maybe five minutes and it's all as detailed and accurate as we can make it, with as many "if only's" included as possible. ("If only" the tape had been attached up and down instead of around the door, Wills wouldn't have spotted it and alerted the police; "if only" the first police car called had gone to investigate, Baldwin, watching from the Howard Johnson Motor Inn, would have seen their uniforms and radioed Hunt and Liddy in time for them to have gotten to the five burglars and then safely away.) The break-in ends when Leeper arrests the five men. He thought he only had one guy, so when ten hands were raised he was surprised. The hands are all encased in Playtex rubber surgical gloves. HOLD on the hands a moment; then-- GO TO: A DARK APARTMENT. The phone rings. WOODWARD fumbles for the receiver, turns on the bed light. He listens a moment. WOODWARD No, no trouble, Harry, be right down. (he hangs up) Son of a bitch. He lies back. The apartment is one room, a small terrace beyond. Not much of a place. WOODWARD lies still, staring at the ceiling. He blinks, blinks again. HOLD... CUT TO: THE ENORMOUS FIFTH FLOOR OF THE WASHINGTON POST. It looks, early of a Saturday morning, pretty deserted. Those reporters that are around are young, bright, and presently involved in nothing more taxing than drinking coffee and thumbing through the papers. HARRY ROSENFELD surveys the scene from his office doorway as WOODWARD approaches, hangs his coat at his desk, not far from where ROSENFELD is standing. ROSENFELD Where's that cheery face we've come to know and love? WOODWARD You call me in on my day off because some idiots have broken into local Democratic Headquarters--tell me, Harry, why should I be smiling? ROSENFELD As usual, that keen mind of yours has pegged the situation perfectly. (chomps on some Maalox tablets) Except (a) it wasn't local Democratic Headquarters, it was National Democratic Headquarters-- (WOODWARD is surprised-- he hadn't known) --and (b) these weren't just any idiots, these were special idiots, seeing as when they were arrested at 2:30 this morning, they were all wearing business suits and Playtex gloves and were carrying-- (consults a piece of paper) --a walkie-talkie, forty rolls of film, cameras, lock picks, pen-sized tear gas guns, plus various bugging devices. (puts paper down) Not to mention over two thousand dollars, mostly in sequenced hundred dollar bills. WOODWARD Preliminary hearing at Superior Courthouse? ROSENFELD (nods) Two o'clock, work the phones 'til you go. CUT TO: THE CRIMINAL COURTS BUILDING. WOODWARD hurries along, goes inside as we CUT TO: A CORRIDOR INSIDE. WOODWARD comes down it, looks around, sees a door marked "Counsel's Offices" and heads toward it. Now-- CUT TO: A CLERK AT A DESK as WOODWARD comes up. Behind them, two lawyers are clearly angry about something, talking and gesticulating to each other. WOODWARD (to the COUNSEL'S CLERK) Could you give me the names of the lawyers for the men arrested in the Watergate. CLERK These two were appointed-- (indicates the angry men) --only now it turns out the burglars got their own counsel. (he starts to laugh) FIRST ANGRY LAWYER (to CLERK) When you gonna stop thinking it's so funny. SECOND ANGRY LAWYER (To CLERK) We wouldda done a terrific job protecting those guys. (neither lawyer, by the way, is Clarence Darrow) FIRST ANGRY LAWYER You think we're not as good as some hotshot fancy lawyer?-- CUT TO: THE COURTROOM and business is booming. Muggers, pimp, hookers, their families and friends. In the scene that follows, a constant counterpoint is what's going on up at the front as an endless succession of petty criminals caught the previous night, the aforementioned muggers, pimps, and hookers, are shuttled in, given a quick appearance before a JUDGE who sets bond, and then shuttled out. In the audience, one man stands out--DOUGLAS CADDY. He is extremely well-dressed and obviously successful. Beside him sits another smaller man, who is unshaven and squints. WOODWARD moves in, sits alongside CADDY. WOODWARD Mr. Caddy? My name's Bob Woodward, I'm from the Post and I wanted to ask about how you happened to come on this case-- CADDY --I'm not here. WOODWARD (nods) OK. He takes out a small notebook, writes, muttering aloud as he does. WOODWARD Douglas Caddy, the attorney of record, when questioned about his presence in the courtroom, denied he was in the courtroom, "I'm not here," Mr. Caddy said. CADDY (impatiently) Clearly, I am here, but only as an individual, I'm not the attorney of record. (indicating unshaven man) Mr. Rafferty has that position. Whatever you want, you'll have to get from him, I have nothing more to say. And as he gets up, walks off-- CUT TO: THE WATER FOUNTAIN IN THE CORRIDOR. There is a small line. CADDY waits at the end of it. WOODWARD (moving in behind him) Mr. Rafferty was very helpful. Four Cuban-Americans and this other man, James McCord. CADDY Look, I told you inside-- WOODWARD --you have nothing more to say, I understand that. CADDY turns away; WOODWARD goes right on. WOODWARD What I don't understand is how you got here. CADDY I assure you, there's nothing mysterious involved. WOODWARD Probably you're right, but a little while ago, I was talking to a couple of lawyers who'd been assigned to represent the burglars. CADDY So? WOODWARD Well, they never would have been assigned if anyone had known the burglars had arranged for their own counsel. And that could only mean the burglars didn't arrange for their own counsel--they never even made a phone call. (looks at CADDY) So if they didn't ask for you to be here, how did you know to come? Without a word, CADDY turns, leaves the line without getting a drink. Silently, WOODWARD watches. Now-- CUT TO: CADDY seated as before beside RAFFERTY. WOODWARD's voice come from behind him, and as CADDY turns, WOODWARD is seated one row back. WOODWARD Did you know to come because one of the other men involved in the break- in called you? CADDY (turning) There is no reason to assume other people were involved. WOODWARD Your clients were arrested with a walkie-talkie; they didn't need that to talk among themselves. CADDY looks at WOODWARD, turns back. CADDY (turning back) They are not my clients. WOODWARD You're a lawyer and you're here-- CADDY --I met one of the defendants, Mr. Barker, at a social occasion once-- (stops himself) --I have nothing more to say. WOODWARD (leaning forward as CADDY turns away again) A Miami social occasion? (explaining) Mr. Rafferty told me the Cubans were from Miami. CADDY (sighing) Barker's wife called me at three this morning; her husband apparently had told her to call if he hadn't called her by then. WOODWARD It was really nice of you to come, since you'd only met him once. CADDY Are you implying you don't believe me? WOODWARD I have nothing more to say. CADDY You don't mind getting on people's nerves, do you? WOODWARD considers this a moment. Then-- WOODWARD Nope. And on that word-- CUT TO: THE COURTROOM as without warning, it quiets. There is suddenly a tremendous air of expectancy, you can feel it. Now we see why as five men in dark business suits are led in; they've been stripped of belts, ties, and shoelaces. McCord is taller than the others. They stand, facing the JUDGE, backs to the audience. WOODWARD sits watching as the proceedings start, but it's hard to hear. He concentrates as the JUDGE starts speaking. JUDGE Will you please state your professions. The five men do not move or reply. Then, after a long pause, Barker says-- BARKER Anti-Communists. JUDGE Anti-Communists? (perplexed) That, sir, is not your average occupation. WOODWARD starts moving forward now, down an aisle, moving past kids and whores and all the rest, trying to hear what the hell's going on. At the front of the spectator's section is a fence-like wooden barricade about three feet high. As he approaches it-- The JUDGE indicates the bald burglar. JUDGE Your name, please. MCCORD James McCord. JUDGE Will you step forward, sir. (MCCORD obeys) WOODWARD at the bench is leaning forward, trying to hear but it's hard. JUDGE And what is your occupation, Mr. McCord? MCCORD (softly) Security consultant. JUDGE Where? MCCORD (softer) Government. Recently retired. JUDGE Where in government? MCCORD (we can't really make this out) ...Central... Intelligence... Agency... JUDGE (he can't either) Where? MCCORD (clearing his throat) The C.I.A. And on these words, ZOOM TO: CLOSE UP--WOODWARD leaning over the fence practically falling over it in a desperate straining effort to catch what's going on. WOODWARD (stunned) Holy shit. Now from the courtroom-- CUT TO: THOUSANDS AND THOUSANDS OF WASHINGTON POSTS. We are at the end of the press run, the papers are all assembled and being cabled and sent off by machine to various places. As the papers continue to roll past-- A UNION TYPE EMPLOYEE grabs a paper, looks at the front page. The Watergate story, headlined whatever it was headlined, is visible. The byline was by Alfred E. Lewis. The union type Post employee glances at the article-- UNION POST EMPLOYEE (reading half-aloud) "Five men, one of whom said he is a former employee..." (stops reading, gives a shrug) Schmucks. And he turns happily to the sports section-- CUT TO: A CLOSE UP OF HUNDRED DOLLAR BILLS. It's new money and looks as if it's been recently ironed. Someone is going through the cash, making a quick count. During this-- FIRST VOICE (V.O.) Hurry it, huh, Bachinski? BACHINSKI You said I could look at it-- PULL BACK TO REVEAL We're in a room in a police station and two men are present. One, a COP, is nervous as hell and constantly aware of the door. The other, BACHINSKI, is taking hurried notes in a reporter's type notebook as he examines the evidence. COP --I said look, not memorize-- BACHINSKI --almost done, give it a rest, all right... (and he looks at an address book, he stops) CUT TO: THE ADDRESS BOOK. Beside the name "Howard E. Hunt" is the notation "W.House." Now, BACHINSKI hurriedly opens the other book to the letter "H" and there is the same name, "Howard E. Hunt" and beside it, the letters, "W.H." COP (V.O.) What'd you find? BACHINSKI (V.O.) Beats me. These notebooks belonged to Cuban guys? COP (V.O.) S'right. BACHINSKI (V.O.) It's gotta mean either White House or whore house, one or the other. We HOLD on the HUNT name, and the address notations. Then-- CUT TO: WOODWARD'S APARTMENT - NIGHT. The phone rings, waking him. He fumbles for the phone and the light, finally gets them both. WOODWARD Bachinski? (reaches for a notebook) What?--hold it-- (gets it open, starts to write) --OK, go on, go on... CUT TO: A BOX OF MAALOX TABLETS. ROSENFELD is opening them, we're in his office, WOODWARD sits across the desk, holding the notebook we saw him writing in. ROSENFELD ...go on, go on... WOODWARD That's everything Bachinski had, I think it's worth following up. ROSENFELD Don't know; who the hell's Howard Hunt? (crunches tablets) It's probably nothing but check it out. Just go easy, it could be crazy Cubans. HOWARD SIMONS sticks his head in the office. SIMONS Anything? ROSENFELD Woodward's onto a new wrinkle with the break-in thing--absolute page one stuff-- SIMONS --in other words, you got nothing, you're thumbsucking. ROSENFELD (shrugs) Could develop. SIMONS Let me see what you get, but don't jump--The New York Times thinks it's crazy Cubans. He moves on. ROSENFELD turns quickly to WOODWARD. ROSENFELD OK, get on this W.House guy and do a better job then you did on McCord. WOODWARD I did all right on McCord. ROSENFELD Then how come the Associated Press were the ones found out that Mr. McCord is security coordinator for the Committee to Re-elect the President, otherwise known as CREEP? WOODWARD (getting it straight) The head of security for the reelection of a Republican President got caught bugging the national offices of the Democrats? What the hell does that mean? ROSENFELD (hasn't the foggiest) Mr. John Mitchell, the head of CREEP, says it means nothing. (reads) "...This man and the other people involved were not operating on either our behalf or with our consent. These is no place in our campaign or in the electoral process for this type of activity, and we will not forget it or condone it." WOODWARD (getting up) You can't believe that. ROSENFELD As a rough rule of thumb, as far as I can throw Bronco Nagurski, that's how much I trust John Mitchell... Now-- CUT TO: A MOON-FACED MAN RINGING A TRIANGLE. CUT TO: THE NEWSROOM as the triangle sound echoes. HOWARD SIMONS leaves large Managing Editor's office, walks past another office, knocks twice on the glass wall. Inside the Executive Editor's office, BEN BRADLEE sits. As SIMONS knocks, he turns, nods. He appears, for the moment, deep in thought. HARRY ROSENFELD on the opposite end of the room hurries out of his office, following a bunch of editors, all of them heading across the huge room. As he passes WOODWARD's desk ROSENFELD pauses. ROSENFELD What'd you get on W.House? WOODWARD (massaging his neck) Lotsa hints-- ROSENFELD (not happy) I can't sell hints to Simons-- (stops, looks at piece of yellow paper) --you called everyone you know? (WOODWARD makes a nod) Call someone you don't know. WOODWARD continues to rub his neck as ROSENFELD hurries off, all the editors still moving toward the place where the moon- faced man intermittently rings the triangle. WOODWARD picks up the sheet of yellow paper from his desk. Lined, legal-sized, it is crammed with names and numbers and addresses. They are in no neat order; looking at them it's almost like following a path; chicken tracks in ink. WOODWARD mutters "to hell with it" and reaches for a thick book, flips it open. NOW WE SEE THE BOOK: It's the Washington Phone Directory and we're in the W's. As WOODWARD's finger stops, we can see he's looking at the White HOuse entry number. There it is, just like your name and mine. Listed. Now WOODWARD starts to dial, visibly nervous, a fact he tries very hard to keep out of his voice tone. WHITE HOUSE OPERATOR (V.O.) White House. WOODWARD (casually) Howard Hunt, please. Throughout the following call, we stay on WOODWARD's face, hear the other voices. WHITE HOUSE OPERATOR (V.O.) Mr. Hunt does not answer. WOODWARD is delighted he's even there. WOODWARD Thanks, anyway-- And he's about to hang up, when-- WHITE HOUSE OPERATOR (V.O.) I'll bet he's in Mr. Colson's office. Let me connect you. SECRETARY (V.O.) Charles Colson's wire. WOODWARD (a little more excited) Howard Hunt, please. SECRETARY (V.O.) Mr. Hunt isn't here just now. WOODWARD Thanks, anyway. And he's about to hang up again when-- SECRETARY (V.O.) Have you tried Mullen and Company Public Relations? He works at Mullen and Company Public Relations as a writer. The number is 555-1313. I'm sorry I couldn't be more helpful. WOODWARD Listen, forget it. He hangs up, sits there. His hands are a little twitchy... HOLD. Now-- CUT TO: ROSENFELD hurrying (he always hurries) toward his office. WOODWARD, looking for something in his desk throughout this scene, speaks to him. WOODWARD Who's Charles Colson? ROSENFELD (stops dead) I would liken your query to being in Russia half a century ago and asking someone, "I understand who Lenin is and Trotsky I got too, but who's this yokel Stalin?" WOODWARD Who's Colson, Harry? ROSENFELD The most powerful man in America is President Nixon, probably you've heard his name. WOODWARD, unfazed by anything, continues to open drawers, close them, as ROSENFELD rolls on. ROSENFELD The second most powerful man is Robert Haldeman. Just below him are a trio: Mr. Erlichman is Haldeman's friend, and they protect the President from everybody which is why they are referred to as either The German Shepherds or the Berlin Wall. Mr. Mitchell we've already discussed. Mr. Colson is the President's special counsel. WOODWARD (rising) Thanks, Harry. (looks at ROSENFELD) Know anything about Colson? ROSENFELD Just that on his office wall there's a cartoon with a caption reading, "When you've got them by the balls, their hearts and minds will follow." WOODWARD nods, heads back toward the files as we CUT TO: WOODWARD AT HIS DESK dialing the phone. He's got the Colson file spread out now, and we see pictures of the man and articles the Post had done on him. But basically what we see is WOODWARD plugging away on the goddamn phone and you'd think his finger would fall off from all the dialing and you know his voice is tiring as this montage goes on, you can hear it grow raspy. But a lot of what a reporter does he does on the phone, and that's what we're compressing here. The dialing never stops, the voices are continuous. WOODWARD Hello, I'm Bob Woodward of the Washing Post and... (beat) Mullen and Company Public Relations? Could you tell me when you expect Mr. Hunt? (surprised) He is? HUNT (V.O.) Howard Hunt here. WOODWARD Hi, I'm Bob Woodward of the Post and-- HUNT (V.O.) (impatient) --yes, yes, what is it? WOODWARD I was just kind of wondering why your name and phone number were in the address books of two of the men arrested at Watergate? HUNT (V.O.) (blind panic) Good God! And he bangs the phone down sharply-- --more dialing SOUNDS. Now snatches of conversation-- WOODWARD I'm sorry to bother you, Mr. Bennett, but we're doing some investigating of one of your employees, Howard Hunt. BENNETT (V.O.) Well, if you've been doing some investigating then obviously it's no secret to you that Howard was with the C.I.A. WOODWARD (he hadn't known) No secret at all. More dialing. Then-- WOODWARD (tired, voice deeper) Hello, C.I.A. This is R.W. Woodward, of the Washington Post--get me Personnel-- Dialing again. WOODWARD's voice is showing genuine fatigue. WOODWARD Hi, I'm Bob Woodward of the Washington Post--and--what's that?--you've never heard of me?--I can't help that--you don't believe I'm with the Post?-- what do you want me to do, Madam, shout "extra--extra"? There is the SOUND of the phone being slammed down in his ear. Hard. Now-- CUT TO: ROSENFELD AND SIMONS approaching WOODWARD who is working at his desk. He has put in a lot of hours on this and looks it. ROSENFELD Whaddya got, whaddya got? WOODWARD Hunt is Colson's man-- (to SIMONS, explaining) --that's Charles Colson, Nixon's special counsel-- (SIMONS almost says something, decides against it) --they both went to Brown University-- (consulting his notes) --Hunt worked for the C.I.A. till '70, and this is on deep background, the FBI thinks he's involved with the break-in. SIMONS What else have you got? WOODWARD According to White House personnel, Hunt definitely works there as a consultant for Colson. But when I called the White House Press office, they said he hadn't worked there for three months. Then the P.R. guy said the weirdest thing to me. (reading) "I am convinced that neither Mr. Colson nor anyone else at the White House had any knowledge of, or participation in, this deplorable incident at the Democratic National Committee." He looks up at them. SIMONS Isn't that what you'd expect them to say? WOODWARD Absolutely. ROSENFELD So? WOODWARD (he's got something and he knows it) I never asked them about Watergate. I only said what were Hunt's duties at the White House. They volunteered that he was innocent when nobody asked was he guilty. ROSENFELD (to SIMONS) I think we got a White House consultant linked to the bugging. SIMONS (nods) Just be careful how you write it. CUT TO: WOODWARD TYPING LIKE MAD, makes a mistake, corrects it, types on muttering to himself, and-- CUT TO: ROSENFELD IN HIS OFFICE munching a handful of Maalox tablets and-- CUT TO: WOODWARD taking a sheet from his typewriter, hurrying off and-- CUT TO: ROSENFELD taking the sheet from WOODWARD-- WOODWARD Here's the first take-- ROSENFELD nods, shows him out and-- CUT TO: WOODWARD BACK AT HIS MACHINE typing faster then before, makes another mistake, starts to correct it, glances around and-- CUT TO: ROSENFELD IN HIS OFFICE gesturing to somebody but not WOODWARD and-- CUT TO: WOODWARD watching as BERNSTEIN appears in view from behind the wide pillar by WOODWARD's desk, heads toward ROSENFELD's office. WOODWARD shrugs, goes back to his typing, makes a typo immediately, glances over toward ROSENFELD's office, freezes as we-- CUT TO: ROSENFELD handing some papers to BERNSTEIN. They look, from this distance, suspiciously like WOODWARD's story. CUT TO: BERNSTEIN hurrying out of ROSENFELD's office, and-- CUT TO: WOODWARD watching BERNSTEIN until he disappears out of sight behind the pillar. WOODWARD hesitates, finally goes back to his typing, makes another mistake, fixes it, makes still another, his temper is shortly to make itself known-- CUT TO: ROSENFELD as WOODWARD hands him another sheet of paper. WOODWARD This is all of it, Harry. ROSENFELD NODS, takes it, immediately starts to read as we-- CUT TO: WOODWARD AT HIS DESK watching as ROSENFELD gestures again. There is a pause. Then BERNSTEIN appears from behind the pillar and-- CUT TO: ROSENFELD handing BERNSTEIN another sheet of paper. BERSTEIN nods, takes it, walks back toward his desk, disappears behind the pillar again. WOODWARD is starting to steam. Now-- CUT TO: BERNSTEIN AT HIS DESK typing magnificently, his hands rising and falling like Rubinstein's. Behind him is the pillar and for a moment there is nothing--then, very slowly, a figure peers out from behind the pillar--it is WOODWARD. He watches. BERNSTEIN continues to type, then after a moment, rests, thinks, shifts around in his chair and as his glance starts toward the pillar-- CUT TO: THE PILLAR. WOODWARD is gone. CUT TO: BERNSTEIN typing madly away. THE PILLAR. WOODWARD is visible again, eyes very bright... now-- CUT TO: BERNSTEIN finishing typing, his hands moving majestically. WOODWARD comes up behind him, stands looking a second. Then-- WOODWARD We have to talk. BERNSTEIN nods, grabs the papers both that he's been typing and that he's been copying from. And as he rises-- PAN TO: WOODWARD AND BERNSTEIN walking silently out of the newsroom then turning left down a darker corridor, passing bulletin boards and wall lockers and it's all nice and quiet as they amble on, nodding to the few people they pass on their way and after a while they turn right and enter the coffee lounge which is empty; the walls are lined with Norman Rockwell reproductions and various kinds of vending machines are visible, selling coffee or milk or fruit or sandwiches and there are some plastic tables and chairs and the minute they are alone, the silence ends. WOODWARD What the hell were you doing rewriting my story-- BERNSTEIN --I sure couldn't hurt it, could I?-- WOODWARD --it was fine the way it was-- BERNSTEIN --it was bullshit the way it was-- WOODWARD --I have to stand here and listen to the staff correspondent from Virginia?-- BERNSTEIN (a sore subject) --what have you been here, nine months?--I been in this business since I was sixteen-- WOODWARD --and you've had some fucking meteoric rise, that's for sure--by the time you turn forty you might be the head of the Montana bureau-- BERNSTEIN --you only got the job because both you and Bradlee went to Yale-- WOODWARD --Bradlee went to Harvard-- BERNSTEIN --they're all the same, all those Ivy League places--they teach you about striped ties and suddenly you're smart-- WOODWARD --I'm smart enough to know my story was solid-- BERNSTEIN --mine's better-- WOODWARD --no way-- BERNSTEIN (handing them over) --read 'em both and you'll see-- And as WOODWARD glances at the two stories-- CUT TO: BERNSTEIN watching. Now-- CUT TO: WOODWARD. He glances from one story to the other. Then, disconsolately-- WOODWARD ...crap... And he sinks down in a chair. BERNSTEIN Is mine better? WOODWARD nods. WOODWARD (handing the stories back) What is it about my writing that's so rotten? BERNSTEIN (as he exits) Mainly it has to do with your choice of words. And as he goes, leaving WOODWARD just sitting there-- CUT TO: BERSTEIN, re-entering the newsroom, returning to his desk. He starts to insert some papers into his typewriter, hesitates, lights a cigarette. He inhales, as, behind him, WOODWARD briefly is visible going to his desk behind the pillar. Finally BERNSTEIN inserts the paper, starts to type as WOODWARD (V.O.) (from behind the pillar) Carl? BERNSTEIN (turns) Yeah? WOODWARD (pushing his chair briefly into view) Fuck you, Carl. And as he rolls forward again, out of sight-- CUT TO: RICHARD NIXON ON THE TUBE. (It's the June 22 Press Conference.) He talks on about something, it doesn't matter exactly what here, the point is, it should include that strange smile of his that kept appearing when the man should not have been smiling. Hints of pressure maybe, that's all, and once it's established-- PULL BACK TO REVEAL: WOODWARD sitting alone, gloomily staring at the set. We're in the Post Cafeteria, it's the next morning, and the place is pretty much empty. He sips the coffee, it tastes rotten. BERNSTEIN moves up behind him, carrying a cup of coffee of his own. He stands by WOODWARD briefly. BERNSTEIN You heard? (WOODWARD glances up) They put us both on the break-in thing. Simons liked the way we worked together. (WOODWARD nods, BERNSTEIN sits down) Listen, I'm sorry I said your story was bullshit. WOODWARD It's OK; I'm sorry I called you a failure. BERNSTEIN Forget it, the main thing-- (stops) --did you call me a failure? WOODWARD I was sure trying. CUT TO: WOODWARD, BERNSTEIN, AND NIXON. The way it's shot, it's almost as if they're watching each other; NIXON staring out from the TV set, answering questions. WOODWARD and BERNSTEIN sip coffee. We don't know yet--or better, they don't know it yet, but these are our adversaries. CUT TO: WOODWARD AND BERNSTEIN, without NIXON now. They sit at the table. Occasionally, NIXON is audible in the background. WOODWARD All right, what do we know? BERNSTEIN Let me lay a little theory on you-- WOODWARD (cutting him off) --I'm not interested in theory. What do we know? For example, Hunt's disappeared. BERNSTEIN Well, Barker tried to get blueprints of the Miami Convention Center and the air-conditioning system. WOODWARD And McCord was carrying an application for college press credentials for the Democratic convention. (to BERNSTEIN) The Times has got to be full of it-- it can't be crazy Cubans. BERNSTEIN What, though? (points to Nixon) It can't be the Republicans--he'd never allow something as stupid as this, not when he's gonna slaughter McGovern anyway. WOODWARD Right. Nixon didn't get where he got by being dumb-- (stops abruptly) --listen, that was a Watergate question-- CUT TO: NIXON ON THE TUBE. Serious now. NIXON The White House has had no involvement whatever in this particular incident. CUT TO: WOODWARD AND BERNSTEIN staring at the set thinking... CUT TO: WOODWARD AND BERNSTEIN walking toward BERSTEIN'S desk. WOODWARD Hey? BERNSTEIN Hmm. WOODWARD What do you think he meant, this particular incident? Were there others? How would we find out? You know anyone important? BERNSTEIN (sits, shakes his head) I lived here all my life, I got a million contacts, but they're all bus boys and bellhops. The reporter KEN RINGLE at the next desk watches them a moment. Then-- RINGLE What do you need? BERNSTEIN Someone inside the White House would be nice. RINGLE (writes down phone number) Call her. She worked for Colson, if that's any help. As BERNSTEIN grabs for the phone-- CUT TO: A SECRETARIAL POOL IN A LARGE OFFICE. BERNSTEIN is talking off to one side with an attractive girl. GIRL Kenny's crazy, I never worked for Colson, I worked for an assistant. Colson was big on secrets anyway. Even if I had worked for him, I wouldn't have known anything. BERNSTEIN Nothing at all you can remember? SECRETARY (headshake) Sorry. (pause) Now if it was Hunt you were interested in-- BERNSTEIN --Howard Hunt? SECRETARY Sure. Him I liked, he was a very nice person. Secretive too, traveled all over, but a decent man. BERNSTEIN Any idea what he did? SECRETARY Oh, the scuttlebutt for awhile was he was investigating Kennedy-- BERNSTEIN --Teddy Kennedy? SECRETARY Sure. I remember seeing a book about Chappaquiddick on his desk and he was always getting material out of the White House Library and the Library of Congress and-- And as

running

How many times the word 'running' appears in the text?

All the President's Men Script at IMSDb. var _gaq = _gaq || []; _gaq.push(['_setAccount', 'UA-3785444-3']); _gaq.push(['_trackPageview']); (function() { var ga = document.createElement('script'); ga.type = 'text/javascript'; ga.async = true; ga.src = ('https:' == document.location.protocol ? 'https://ssl' : 'http://www') + '.google-analytics.com/ga.js'; var s = document.getElementsByTagName('script')[0]; s.parentNode.insertBefore(ga, s); })(); The Internet Movie Script Database (IMSDb) The web's largest movie script resource! Search IMSDb Alphabetical # A B C D E F G H I J K L M N O P Q R S T U V W X Y Z Genre Action Adventure Animation Comedy Crime Drama Family Fantasy Film-Noir Horror Musical Mystery Romance Sci-Fi Short Thriller War Western Sponsor TV Transcripts Futurama Seinfeld South Park Stargate SG-1 Lost The 4400 International French scripts Movie Software Rip from DVD Rip Blu-Ray Latest Comments Star Wars: Revenge of the Sith10/10 Star Wars: The Force Awakens10/10 Batman Begins9/10 Collateral10/10 Jackie Brown8/10 Movie Chat Message Yell ! ALL SCRIPTS ALL THE PRESIDENT'S MEN - by William Goldman if (window!= top) top.location.href=location.href // --> "ALL THE PRESIDENT'S MEN" by William Goldman Based on the novel "All The President's Men" by Carl Bernstein and Bob Woodward Pre-rehearsal version March, 1975 Start with as few credits as possible. When they're over-- FADE IN ON: A TINY BLACK PIECE OF TAPE. We see it in the center of the large, dimly lit screen. As the tape is pressed around a door-- BEGIN THE BREAK-IN SEQUENCE. It's a major piece of action, running maybe five minutes and it's all as detailed and accurate as we can make it, with as many "if only's" included as possible. ("If only" the tape had been attached up and down instead of around the door, Wills wouldn't have spotted it and alerted the police; "if only" the first police car called had gone to investigate, Baldwin, watching from the Howard Johnson Motor Inn, would have seen their uniforms and radioed Hunt and Liddy in time for them to have gotten to the five burglars and then safely away.) The break-in ends when Leeper arrests the five men. He thought he only had one guy, so when ten hands were raised he was surprised. The hands are all encased in Playtex rubber surgical gloves. HOLD on the hands a moment; then-- GO TO: A DARK APARTMENT. The phone rings. WOODWARD fumbles for the receiver, turns on the bed light. He listens a moment. WOODWARD No, no trouble, Harry, be right down. (he hangs up) Son of a bitch. He lies back. The apartment is one room, a small terrace beyond. Not much of a place. WOODWARD lies still, staring at the ceiling. He blinks, blinks again. HOLD... CUT TO: THE ENORMOUS FIFTH FLOOR OF THE WASHINGTON POST. It looks, early of a Saturday morning, pretty deserted. Those reporters that are around are young, bright, and presently involved in nothing more taxing than drinking coffee and thumbing through the papers. HARRY ROSENFELD surveys the scene from his office doorway as WOODWARD approaches, hangs his coat at his desk, not far from where ROSENFELD is standing. ROSENFELD Where's that cheery face we've come to know and love? WOODWARD You call me in on my day off because some idiots have broken into local Democratic Headquarters--tell me, Harry, why should I be smiling? ROSENFELD As usual, that keen mind of yours has pegged the situation perfectly. (chomps on some Maalox tablets) Except (a) it wasn't local Democratic Headquarters, it was National Democratic Headquarters-- (WOODWARD is surprised-- he hadn't known) --and (b) these weren't just any idiots, these were special idiots, seeing as when they were arrested at 2:30 this morning, they were all wearing business suits and Playtex gloves and were carrying-- (consults a piece of paper) --a walkie-talkie, forty rolls of film, cameras, lock picks, pen-sized tear gas guns, plus various bugging devices. (puts paper down) Not to mention over two thousand dollars, mostly in sequenced hundred dollar bills. WOODWARD Preliminary hearing at Superior Courthouse? ROSENFELD (nods) Two o'clock, work the phones 'til you go. CUT TO: THE CRIMINAL COURTS BUILDING. WOODWARD hurries along, goes inside as we CUT TO: A CORRIDOR INSIDE. WOODWARD comes down it, looks around, sees a door marked "Counsel's Offices" and heads toward it. Now-- CUT TO: A CLERK AT A DESK as WOODWARD comes up. Behind them, two lawyers are clearly angry about something, talking and gesticulating to each other. WOODWARD (to the COUNSEL'S CLERK) Could you give me the names of the lawyers for the men arrested in the Watergate. CLERK These two were appointed-- (indicates the angry men) --only now it turns out the burglars got their own counsel. (he starts to laugh) FIRST ANGRY LAWYER (to CLERK) When you gonna stop thinking it's so funny. SECOND ANGRY LAWYER (To CLERK) We wouldda done a terrific job protecting those guys. (neither lawyer, by the way, is Clarence Darrow) FIRST ANGRY LAWYER You think we're not as good as some hotshot fancy lawyer?-- CUT TO: THE COURTROOM and business is booming. Muggers, pimp, hookers, their families and friends. In the scene that follows, a constant counterpoint is what's going on up at the front as an endless succession of petty criminals caught the previous night, the aforementioned muggers, pimps, and hookers, are shuttled in, given a quick appearance before a JUDGE who sets bond, and then shuttled out. In the audience, one man stands out--DOUGLAS CADDY. He is extremely well-dressed and obviously successful. Beside him sits another smaller man, who is unshaven and squints. WOODWARD moves in, sits alongside CADDY. WOODWARD Mr. Caddy? My name's Bob Woodward, I'm from the Post and I wanted to ask about how you happened to come on this case-- CADDY --I'm not here. WOODWARD (nods) OK. He takes out a small notebook, writes, muttering aloud as he does. WOODWARD Douglas Caddy, the attorney of record, when questioned about his presence in the courtroom, denied he was in the courtroom, "I'm not here," Mr. Caddy said. CADDY (impatiently) Clearly, I am here, but only as an individual, I'm not the attorney of record. (indicating unshaven man) Mr. Rafferty has that position. Whatever you want, you'll have to get from him, I have nothing more to say. And as he gets up, walks off-- CUT TO: THE WATER FOUNTAIN IN THE CORRIDOR. There is a small line. CADDY waits at the end of it. WOODWARD (moving in behind him) Mr. Rafferty was very helpful. Four Cuban-Americans and this other man, James McCord. CADDY Look, I told you inside-- WOODWARD --you have nothing more to say, I understand that. CADDY turns away; WOODWARD goes right on. WOODWARD What I don't understand is how you got here. CADDY I assure you, there's nothing mysterious involved. WOODWARD Probably you're right, but a little while ago, I was talking to a couple of lawyers who'd been assigned to represent the burglars. CADDY So? WOODWARD Well, they never would have been assigned if anyone had known the burglars had arranged for their own counsel. And that could only mean the burglars didn't arrange for their own counsel--they never even made a phone call. (looks at CADDY) So if they didn't ask for you to be here, how did you know to come? Without a word, CADDY turns, leaves the line without getting a drink. Silently, WOODWARD watches. Now-- CUT TO: CADDY seated as before beside RAFFERTY. WOODWARD's voice come from behind him, and as CADDY turns, WOODWARD is seated one row back. WOODWARD Did you know to come because one of the other men involved in the break- in called you? CADDY (turning) There is no reason to assume other people were involved. WOODWARD Your clients were arrested with a walkie-talkie; they didn't need that to talk among themselves. CADDY looks at WOODWARD, turns back. CADDY (turning back) They are not my clients. WOODWARD You're a lawyer and you're here-- CADDY --I met one of the defendants, Mr. Barker, at a social occasion once-- (stops himself) --I have nothing more to say. WOODWARD (leaning forward as CADDY turns away again) A Miami social occasion? (explaining) Mr. Rafferty told me the Cubans were from Miami. CADDY (sighing) Barker's wife called me at three this morning; her husband apparently had told her to call if he hadn't called her by then. WOODWARD It was really nice of you to come, since you'd only met him once. CADDY Are you implying you don't believe me? WOODWARD I have nothing more to say. CADDY You don't mind getting on people's nerves, do you? WOODWARD considers this a moment. Then-- WOODWARD Nope. And on that word-- CUT TO: THE COURTROOM as without warning, it quiets. There is suddenly a tremendous air of expectancy, you can feel it. Now we see why as five men in dark business suits are led in; they've been stripped of belts, ties, and shoelaces. McCord is taller than the others. They stand, facing the JUDGE, backs to the audience. WOODWARD sits watching as the proceedings start, but it's hard to hear. He concentrates as the JUDGE starts speaking. JUDGE Will you please state your professions. The five men do not move or reply. Then, after a long pause, Barker says-- BARKER Anti-Communists. JUDGE Anti-Communists? (perplexed) That, sir, is not your average occupation. WOODWARD starts moving forward now, down an aisle, moving past kids and whores and all the rest, trying to hear what the hell's going on. At the front of the spectator's section is a fence-like wooden barricade about three feet high. As he approaches it-- The JUDGE indicates the bald burglar. JUDGE Your name, please. MCCORD James McCord. JUDGE Will you step forward, sir. (MCCORD obeys) WOODWARD at the bench is leaning forward, trying to hear but it's hard. JUDGE And what is your occupation, Mr. McCord? MCCORD (softly) Security consultant. JUDGE Where? MCCORD (softer) Government. Recently retired. JUDGE Where in government? MCCORD (we can't really make this out) ...Central... Intelligence... Agency... JUDGE (he can't either) Where? MCCORD (clearing his throat) The C.I.A. And on these words, ZOOM TO: CLOSE UP--WOODWARD leaning over the fence practically falling over it in a desperate straining effort to catch what's going on. WOODWARD (stunned) Holy shit. Now from the courtroom-- CUT TO: THOUSANDS AND THOUSANDS OF WASHINGTON POSTS. We are at the end of the press run, the papers are all assembled and being cabled and sent off by machine to various places. As the papers continue to roll past-- A UNION TYPE EMPLOYEE grabs a paper, looks at the front page. The Watergate story, headlined whatever it was headlined, is visible. The byline was by Alfred E. Lewis. The union type Post employee glances at the article-- UNION POST EMPLOYEE (reading half-aloud) "Five men, one of whom said he is a former employee..." (stops reading, gives a shrug) Schmucks. And he turns happily to the sports section-- CUT TO: A CLOSE UP OF HUNDRED DOLLAR BILLS. It's new money and looks as if it's been recently ironed. Someone is going through the cash, making a quick count. During this-- FIRST VOICE (V.O.) Hurry it, huh, Bachinski? BACHINSKI You said I could look at it-- PULL BACK TO REVEAL We're in a room in a police station and two men are present. One, a COP, is nervous as hell and constantly aware of the door. The other, BACHINSKI, is taking hurried notes in a reporter's type notebook as he examines the evidence. COP --I said look, not memorize-- BACHINSKI --almost done, give it a rest, all right... (and he looks at an address book, he stops) CUT TO: THE ADDRESS BOOK. Beside the name "Howard E. Hunt" is the notation "W.House." Now, BACHINSKI hurriedly opens the other book to the letter "H" and there is the same name, "Howard E. Hunt" and beside it, the letters, "W.H." COP (V.O.) What'd you find? BACHINSKI (V.O.) Beats me. These notebooks belonged to Cuban guys? COP (V.O.) S'right. BACHINSKI (V.O.) It's gotta mean either White House or whore house, one or the other. We HOLD on the HUNT name, and the address notations. Then-- CUT TO: WOODWARD'S APARTMENT - NIGHT. The phone rings, waking him. He fumbles for the phone and the light, finally gets them both. WOODWARD Bachinski? (reaches for a notebook) What?--hold it-- (gets it open, starts to write) --OK, go on, go on... CUT TO: A BOX OF MAALOX TABLETS. ROSENFELD is opening them, we're in his office, WOODWARD sits across the desk, holding the notebook we saw him writing in. ROSENFELD ...go on, go on... WOODWARD That's everything Bachinski had, I think it's worth following up. ROSENFELD Don't know; who the hell's Howard Hunt? (crunches tablets) It's probably nothing but check it out. Just go easy, it could be crazy Cubans. HOWARD SIMONS sticks his head in the office. SIMONS Anything? ROSENFELD Woodward's onto a new wrinkle with the break-in thing--absolute page one stuff-- SIMONS --in other words, you got nothing, you're thumbsucking. ROSENFELD (shrugs) Could develop. SIMONS Let me see what you get, but don't jump--The New York Times thinks it's crazy Cubans. He moves on. ROSENFELD turns quickly to WOODWARD. ROSENFELD OK, get on this W.House guy and do a better job then you did on McCord. WOODWARD I did all right on McCord. ROSENFELD Then how come the Associated Press were the ones found out that Mr. McCord is security coordinator for the Committee to Re-elect the President, otherwise known as CREEP? WOODWARD (getting it straight) The head of security for the reelection of a Republican President got caught bugging the national offices of the Democrats? What the hell does that mean? ROSENFELD (hasn't the foggiest) Mr. John Mitchell, the head of CREEP, says it means nothing. (reads) "...This man and the other people involved were not operating on either our behalf or with our consent. These is no place in our campaign or in the electoral process for this type of activity, and we will not forget it or condone it." WOODWARD (getting up) You can't believe that. ROSENFELD As a rough rule of thumb, as far as I can throw Bronco Nagurski, that's how much I trust John Mitchell... Now-- CUT TO: A MOON-FACED MAN RINGING A TRIANGLE. CUT TO: THE NEWSROOM as the triangle sound echoes. HOWARD SIMONS leaves large Managing Editor's office, walks past another office, knocks twice on the glass wall. Inside the Executive Editor's office, BEN BRADLEE sits. As SIMONS knocks, he turns, nods. He appears, for the moment, deep in thought. HARRY ROSENFELD on the opposite end of the room hurries out of his office, following a bunch of editors, all of them heading across the huge room. As he passes WOODWARD's desk ROSENFELD pauses. ROSENFELD What'd you get on W.House? WOODWARD (massaging his neck) Lotsa hints-- ROSENFELD (not happy) I can't sell hints to Simons-- (stops, looks at piece of yellow paper) --you called everyone you know? (WOODWARD makes a nod) Call someone you don't know. WOODWARD continues to rub his neck as ROSENFELD hurries off, all the editors still moving toward the place where the moon- faced man intermittently rings the triangle. WOODWARD picks up the sheet of yellow paper from his desk. Lined, legal-sized, it is crammed with names and numbers and addresses. They are in no neat order; looking at them it's almost like following a path; chicken tracks in ink. WOODWARD mutters "to hell with it" and reaches for a thick book, flips it open. NOW WE SEE THE BOOK: It's the Washington Phone Directory and we're in the W's. As WOODWARD's finger stops, we can see he's looking at the White HOuse entry number. There it is, just like your name and mine. Listed. Now WOODWARD starts to dial, visibly nervous, a fact he tries very hard to keep out of his voice tone. WHITE HOUSE OPERATOR (V.O.) White House. WOODWARD (casually) Howard Hunt, please. Throughout the following call, we stay on WOODWARD's face, hear the other voices. WHITE HOUSE OPERATOR (V.O.) Mr. Hunt does not answer. WOODWARD is delighted he's even there. WOODWARD Thanks, anyway-- And he's about to hang up, when-- WHITE HOUSE OPERATOR (V.O.) I'll bet he's in Mr. Colson's office. Let me connect you. SECRETARY (V.O.) Charles Colson's wire. WOODWARD (a little more excited) Howard Hunt, please. SECRETARY (V.O.) Mr. Hunt isn't here just now. WOODWARD Thanks, anyway. And he's about to hang up again when-- SECRETARY (V.O.) Have you tried Mullen and Company Public Relations? He works at Mullen and Company Public Relations as a writer. The number is 555-1313. I'm sorry I couldn't be more helpful. WOODWARD Listen, forget it. He hangs up, sits there. His hands are a little twitchy... HOLD. Now-- CUT TO: ROSENFELD hurrying (he always hurries) toward his office. WOODWARD, looking for something in his desk throughout this scene, speaks to him. WOODWARD Who's Charles Colson? ROSENFELD (stops dead) I would liken your query to being in Russia half a century ago and asking someone, "I understand who Lenin is and Trotsky I got too, but who's this yokel Stalin?" WOODWARD Who's Colson, Harry? ROSENFELD The most powerful man in America is President Nixon, probably you've heard his name. WOODWARD, unfazed by anything, continues to open drawers, close them, as ROSENFELD rolls on. ROSENFELD The second most powerful man is Robert Haldeman. Just below him are a trio: Mr. Erlichman is Haldeman's friend, and they protect the President from everybody which is why they are referred to as either The German Shepherds or the Berlin Wall. Mr. Mitchell we've already discussed. Mr. Colson is the President's special counsel. WOODWARD (rising) Thanks, Harry. (looks at ROSENFELD) Know anything about Colson? ROSENFELD Just that on his office wall there's a cartoon with a caption reading, "When you've got them by the balls, their hearts and minds will follow." WOODWARD nods, heads back toward the files as we CUT TO: WOODWARD AT HIS DESK dialing the phone. He's got the Colson file spread out now, and we see pictures of the man and articles the Post had done on him. But basically what we see is WOODWARD plugging away on the goddamn phone and you'd think his finger would fall off from all the dialing and you know his voice is tiring as this montage goes on, you can hear it grow raspy. But a lot of what a reporter does he does on the phone, and that's what we're compressing here. The dialing never stops, the voices are continuous. WOODWARD Hello, I'm Bob Woodward of the Washing Post and... (beat) Mullen and Company Public Relations? Could you tell me when you expect Mr. Hunt? (surprised) He is? HUNT (V.O.) Howard Hunt here. WOODWARD Hi, I'm Bob Woodward of the Post and-- HUNT (V.O.) (impatient) --yes, yes, what is it? WOODWARD I was just kind of wondering why your name and phone number were in the address books of two of the men arrested at Watergate? HUNT (V.O.) (blind panic) Good God! And he bangs the phone down sharply-- --more dialing SOUNDS. Now snatches of conversation-- WOODWARD I'm sorry to bother you, Mr. Bennett, but we're doing some investigating of one of your employees, Howard Hunt. BENNETT (V.O.) Well, if you've been doing some investigating then obviously it's no secret to you that Howard was with the C.I.A. WOODWARD (he hadn't known) No secret at all. More dialing. Then-- WOODWARD (tired, voice deeper) Hello, C.I.A. This is R.W. Woodward, of the Washington Post--get me Personnel-- Dialing again. WOODWARD's voice is showing genuine fatigue. WOODWARD Hi, I'm Bob Woodward of the Washington Post--and--what's that?--you've never heard of me?--I can't help that--you don't believe I'm with the Post?-- what do you want me to do, Madam, shout "extra--extra"? There is the SOUND of the phone being slammed down in his ear. Hard. Now-- CUT TO: ROSENFELD AND SIMONS approaching WOODWARD who is working at his desk. He has put in a lot of hours on this and looks it. ROSENFELD Whaddya got, whaddya got? WOODWARD Hunt is Colson's man-- (to SIMONS, explaining) --that's Charles Colson, Nixon's special counsel-- (SIMONS almost says something, decides against it) --they both went to Brown University-- (consulting his notes) --Hunt worked for the C.I.A. till '70, and this is on deep background, the FBI thinks he's involved with the break-in. SIMONS What else have you got? WOODWARD According to White House personnel, Hunt definitely works there as a consultant for Colson. But when I called the White House Press office, they said he hadn't worked there for three months. Then the P.R. guy said the weirdest thing to me. (reading) "I am convinced that neither Mr. Colson nor anyone else at the White House had any knowledge of, or participation in, this deplorable incident at the Democratic National Committee." He looks up at them. SIMONS Isn't that what you'd expect them to say? WOODWARD Absolutely. ROSENFELD So? WOODWARD (he's got something and he knows it) I never asked them about Watergate. I only said what were Hunt's duties at the White House. They volunteered that he was innocent when nobody asked was he guilty. ROSENFELD (to SIMONS) I think we got a White House consultant linked to the bugging. SIMONS (nods) Just be careful how you write it. CUT TO: WOODWARD TYPING LIKE MAD, makes a mistake, corrects it, types on muttering to himself, and-- CUT TO: ROSENFELD IN HIS OFFICE munching a handful of Maalox tablets and-- CUT TO: WOODWARD taking a sheet from his typewriter, hurrying off and-- CUT TO: ROSENFELD taking the sheet from WOODWARD-- WOODWARD Here's the first take-- ROSENFELD nods, shows him out and-- CUT TO: WOODWARD BACK AT HIS MACHINE typing faster then before, makes another mistake, starts to correct it, glances around and-- CUT TO: ROSENFELD IN HIS OFFICE gesturing to somebody but not WOODWARD and-- CUT TO: WOODWARD watching as BERNSTEIN appears in view from behind the wide pillar by WOODWARD's desk, heads toward ROSENFELD's office. WOODWARD shrugs, goes back to his typing, makes a typo immediately, glances over toward ROSENFELD's office, freezes as we-- CUT TO: ROSENFELD handing some papers to BERNSTEIN. They look, from this distance, suspiciously like WOODWARD's story. CUT TO: BERNSTEIN hurrying out of ROSENFELD's office, and-- CUT TO: WOODWARD watching BERNSTEIN until he disappears out of sight behind the pillar. WOODWARD hesitates, finally goes back to his typing, makes another mistake, fixes it, makes still another, his temper is shortly to make itself known-- CUT TO: ROSENFELD as WOODWARD hands him another sheet of paper. WOODWARD This is all of it, Harry. ROSENFELD NODS, takes it, immediately starts to read as we-- CUT TO: WOODWARD AT HIS DESK watching as ROSENFELD gestures again. There is a pause. Then BERNSTEIN appears from behind the pillar and-- CUT TO: ROSENFELD handing BERNSTEIN another sheet of paper. BERSTEIN nods, takes it, walks back toward his desk, disappears behind the pillar again. WOODWARD is starting to steam. Now-- CUT TO: BERNSTEIN AT HIS DESK typing magnificently, his hands rising and falling like Rubinstein's. Behind him is the pillar and for a moment there is nothing--then, very slowly, a figure peers out from behind the pillar--it is WOODWARD. He watches. BERNSTEIN continues to type, then after a moment, rests, thinks, shifts around in his chair and as his glance starts toward the pillar-- CUT TO: THE PILLAR. WOODWARD is gone. CUT TO: BERNSTEIN typing madly away. THE PILLAR. WOODWARD is visible again, eyes very bright... now-- CUT TO: BERNSTEIN finishing typing, his hands moving majestically. WOODWARD comes up behind him, stands looking a second. Then-- WOODWARD We have to talk. BERNSTEIN nods, grabs the papers both that he's been typing and that he's been copying from. And as he rises-- PAN TO: WOODWARD AND BERNSTEIN walking silently out of the newsroom then turning left down a darker corridor, passing bulletin boards and wall lockers and it's all nice and quiet as they amble on, nodding to the few people they pass on their way and after a while they turn right and enter the coffee lounge which is empty; the walls are lined with Norman Rockwell reproductions and various kinds of vending machines are visible, selling coffee or milk or fruit or sandwiches and there are some plastic tables and chairs and the minute they are alone, the silence ends. WOODWARD What the hell were you doing rewriting my story-- BERNSTEIN --I sure couldn't hurt it, could I?-- WOODWARD --it was fine the way it was-- BERNSTEIN --it was bullshit the way it was-- WOODWARD --I have to stand here and listen to the staff correspondent from Virginia?-- BERNSTEIN (a sore subject) --what have you been here, nine months?--I been in this business since I was sixteen-- WOODWARD --and you've had some fucking meteoric rise, that's for sure--by the time you turn forty you might be the head of the Montana bureau-- BERNSTEIN --you only got the job because both you and Bradlee went to Yale-- WOODWARD --Bradlee went to Harvard-- BERNSTEIN --they're all the same, all those Ivy League places--they teach you about striped ties and suddenly you're smart-- WOODWARD --I'm smart enough to know my story was solid-- BERNSTEIN --mine's better-- WOODWARD --no way-- BERNSTEIN (handing them over) --read 'em both and you'll see-- And as WOODWARD glances at the two stories-- CUT TO: BERNSTEIN watching. Now-- CUT TO: WOODWARD. He glances from one story to the other. Then, disconsolately-- WOODWARD ...crap... And he sinks down in a chair. BERNSTEIN Is mine better? WOODWARD nods. WOODWARD (handing the stories back) What is it about my writing that's so rotten? BERNSTEIN (as he exits) Mainly it has to do with your choice of words. And as he goes, leaving WOODWARD just sitting there-- CUT TO: BERSTEIN, re-entering the newsroom, returning to his desk. He starts to insert some papers into his typewriter, hesitates, lights a cigarette. He inhales, as, behind him, WOODWARD briefly is visible going to his desk behind the pillar. Finally BERNSTEIN inserts the paper, starts to type as WOODWARD (V.O.) (from behind the pillar) Carl? BERNSTEIN (turns) Yeah? WOODWARD (pushing his chair briefly into view) Fuck you, Carl. And as he rolls forward again, out of sight-- CUT TO: RICHARD NIXON ON THE TUBE. (It's the June 22 Press Conference.) He talks on about something, it doesn't matter exactly what here, the point is, it should include that strange smile of his that kept appearing when the man should not have been smiling. Hints of pressure maybe, that's all, and once it's established-- PULL BACK TO REVEAL: WOODWARD sitting alone, gloomily staring at the set. We're in the Post Cafeteria, it's the next morning, and the place is pretty much empty. He sips the coffee, it tastes rotten. BERNSTEIN moves up behind him, carrying a cup of coffee of his own. He stands by WOODWARD briefly. BERNSTEIN You heard? (WOODWARD glances up) They put us both on the break-in thing. Simons liked the way we worked together. (WOODWARD nods, BERNSTEIN sits down) Listen, I'm sorry I said your story was bullshit. WOODWARD It's OK; I'm sorry I called you a failure. BERNSTEIN Forget it, the main thing-- (stops) --did you call me a failure? WOODWARD I was sure trying. CUT TO: WOODWARD, BERNSTEIN, AND NIXON. The way it's shot, it's almost as if they're watching each other; NIXON staring out from the TV set, answering questions. WOODWARD and BERNSTEIN sip coffee. We don't know yet--or better, they don't know it yet, but these are our adversaries. CUT TO: WOODWARD AND BERNSTEIN, without NIXON now. They sit at the table. Occasionally, NIXON is audible in the background. WOODWARD All right, what do we know? BERNSTEIN Let me lay a little theory on you-- WOODWARD (cutting him off) --I'm not interested in theory. What do we know? For example, Hunt's disappeared. BERNSTEIN Well, Barker tried to get blueprints of the Miami Convention Center and the air-conditioning system. WOODWARD And McCord was carrying an application for college press credentials for the Democratic convention. (to BERNSTEIN) The Times has got to be full of it-- it can't be crazy Cubans. BERNSTEIN What, though? (points to Nixon) It can't be the Republicans--he'd never allow something as stupid as this, not when he's gonna slaughter McGovern anyway. WOODWARD Right. Nixon didn't get where he got by being dumb-- (stops abruptly) --listen, that was a Watergate question-- CUT TO: NIXON ON THE TUBE. Serious now. NIXON The White House has had no involvement whatever in this particular incident. CUT TO: WOODWARD AND BERNSTEIN staring at the set thinking... CUT TO: WOODWARD AND BERNSTEIN walking toward BERSTEIN'S desk. WOODWARD Hey? BERNSTEIN Hmm. WOODWARD What do you think he meant, this particular incident? Were there others? How would we find out? You know anyone important? BERNSTEIN (sits, shakes his head) I lived here all my life, I got a million contacts, but they're all bus boys and bellhops. The reporter KEN RINGLE at the next desk watches them a moment. Then-- RINGLE What do you need? BERNSTEIN Someone inside the White House would be nice. RINGLE (writes down phone number) Call her. She worked for Colson, if that's any help. As BERNSTEIN grabs for the phone-- CUT TO: A SECRETARIAL POOL IN A LARGE OFFICE. BERNSTEIN is talking off to one side with an attractive girl. GIRL Kenny's crazy, I never worked for Colson, I worked for an assistant. Colson was big on secrets anyway. Even if I had worked for him, I wouldn't have known anything. BERNSTEIN Nothing at all you can remember? SECRETARY (headshake) Sorry. (pause) Now if it was Hunt you were interested in-- BERNSTEIN --Howard Hunt? SECRETARY Sure. Him I liked, he was a very nice person. Secretive too, traveled all over, but a decent man. BERNSTEIN Any idea what he did? SECRETARY Oh, the scuttlebutt for awhile was he was investigating Kennedy-- BERNSTEIN --Teddy Kennedy? SECRETARY Sure. I remember seeing a book about Chappaquiddick on his desk and he was always getting material out of the White House Library and the Library of Congress and-- And as

listened

How many times the word 'listened' appears in the text?

All the President's Men Script at IMSDb. var _gaq = _gaq || []; _gaq.push(['_setAccount', 'UA-3785444-3']); _gaq.push(['_trackPageview']); (function() { var ga = document.createElement('script'); ga.type = 'text/javascript'; ga.async = true; ga.src = ('https:' == document.location.protocol ? 'https://ssl' : 'http://www') + '.google-analytics.com/ga.js'; var s = document.getElementsByTagName('script')[0]; s.parentNode.insertBefore(ga, s); })(); The Internet Movie Script Database (IMSDb) The web's largest movie script resource! Search IMSDb Alphabetical # A B C D E F G H I J K L M N O P Q R S T U V W X Y Z Genre Action Adventure Animation Comedy Crime Drama Family Fantasy Film-Noir Horror Musical Mystery Romance Sci-Fi Short Thriller War Western Sponsor TV Transcripts Futurama Seinfeld South Park Stargate SG-1 Lost The 4400 International French scripts Movie Software Rip from DVD Rip Blu-Ray Latest Comments Star Wars: Revenge of the Sith10/10 Star Wars: The Force Awakens10/10 Batman Begins9/10 Collateral10/10 Jackie Brown8/10 Movie Chat Message Yell ! ALL SCRIPTS ALL THE PRESIDENT'S MEN - by William Goldman if (window!= top) top.location.href=location.href // --> "ALL THE PRESIDENT'S MEN" by William Goldman Based on the novel "All The President's Men" by Carl Bernstein and Bob Woodward Pre-rehearsal version March, 1975 Start with as few credits as possible. When they're over-- FADE IN ON: A TINY BLACK PIECE OF TAPE. We see it in the center of the large, dimly lit screen. As the tape is pressed around a door-- BEGIN THE BREAK-IN SEQUENCE. It's a major piece of action, running maybe five minutes and it's all as detailed and accurate as we can make it, with as many "if only's" included as possible. ("If only" the tape had been attached up and down instead of around the door, Wills wouldn't have spotted it and alerted the police; "if only" the first police car called had gone to investigate, Baldwin, watching from the Howard Johnson Motor Inn, would have seen their uniforms and radioed Hunt and Liddy in time for them to have gotten to the five burglars and then safely away.) The break-in ends when Leeper arrests the five men. He thought he only had one guy, so when ten hands were raised he was surprised. The hands are all encased in Playtex rubber surgical gloves. HOLD on the hands a moment; then-- GO TO: A DARK APARTMENT. The phone rings. WOODWARD fumbles for the receiver, turns on the bed light. He listens a moment. WOODWARD No, no trouble, Harry, be right down. (he hangs up) Son of a bitch. He lies back. The apartment is one room, a small terrace beyond. Not much of a place. WOODWARD lies still, staring at the ceiling. He blinks, blinks again. HOLD... CUT TO: THE ENORMOUS FIFTH FLOOR OF THE WASHINGTON POST. It looks, early of a Saturday morning, pretty deserted. Those reporters that are around are young, bright, and presently involved in nothing more taxing than drinking coffee and thumbing through the papers. HARRY ROSENFELD surveys the scene from his office doorway as WOODWARD approaches, hangs his coat at his desk, not far from where ROSENFELD is standing. ROSENFELD Where's that cheery face we've come to know and love? WOODWARD You call me in on my day off because some idiots have broken into local Democratic Headquarters--tell me, Harry, why should I be smiling? ROSENFELD As usual, that keen mind of yours has pegged the situation perfectly. (chomps on some Maalox tablets) Except (a) it wasn't local Democratic Headquarters, it was National Democratic Headquarters-- (WOODWARD is surprised-- he hadn't known) --and (b) these weren't just any idiots, these were special idiots, seeing as when they were arrested at 2:30 this morning, they were all wearing business suits and Playtex gloves and were carrying-- (consults a piece of paper) --a walkie-talkie, forty rolls of film, cameras, lock picks, pen-sized tear gas guns, plus various bugging devices. (puts paper down) Not to mention over two thousand dollars, mostly in sequenced hundred dollar bills. WOODWARD Preliminary hearing at Superior Courthouse? ROSENFELD (nods) Two o'clock, work the phones 'til you go. CUT TO: THE CRIMINAL COURTS BUILDING. WOODWARD hurries along, goes inside as we CUT TO: A CORRIDOR INSIDE. WOODWARD comes down it, looks around, sees a door marked "Counsel's Offices" and heads toward it. Now-- CUT TO: A CLERK AT A DESK as WOODWARD comes up. Behind them, two lawyers are clearly angry about something, talking and gesticulating to each other. WOODWARD (to the COUNSEL'S CLERK) Could you give me the names of the lawyers for the men arrested in the Watergate. CLERK These two were appointed-- (indicates the angry men) --only now it turns out the burglars got their own counsel. (he starts to laugh) FIRST ANGRY LAWYER (to CLERK) When you gonna stop thinking it's so funny. SECOND ANGRY LAWYER (To CLERK) We wouldda done a terrific job protecting those guys. (neither lawyer, by the way, is Clarence Darrow) FIRST ANGRY LAWYER You think we're not as good as some hotshot fancy lawyer?-- CUT TO: THE COURTROOM and business is booming. Muggers, pimp, hookers, their families and friends. In the scene that follows, a constant counterpoint is what's going on up at the front as an endless succession of petty criminals caught the previous night, the aforementioned muggers, pimps, and hookers, are shuttled in, given a quick appearance before a JUDGE who sets bond, and then shuttled out. In the audience, one man stands out--DOUGLAS CADDY. He is extremely well-dressed and obviously successful. Beside him sits another smaller man, who is unshaven and squints. WOODWARD moves in, sits alongside CADDY. WOODWARD Mr. Caddy? My name's Bob Woodward, I'm from the Post and I wanted to ask about how you happened to come on this case-- CADDY --I'm not here. WOODWARD (nods) OK. He takes out a small notebook, writes, muttering aloud as he does. WOODWARD Douglas Caddy, the attorney of record, when questioned about his presence in the courtroom, denied he was in the courtroom, "I'm not here," Mr. Caddy said. CADDY (impatiently) Clearly, I am here, but only as an individual, I'm not the attorney of record. (indicating unshaven man) Mr. Rafferty has that position. Whatever you want, you'll have to get from him, I have nothing more to say. And as he gets up, walks off-- CUT TO: THE WATER FOUNTAIN IN THE CORRIDOR. There is a small line. CADDY waits at the end of it. WOODWARD (moving in behind him) Mr. Rafferty was very helpful. Four Cuban-Americans and this other man, James McCord. CADDY Look, I told you inside-- WOODWARD --you have nothing more to say, I understand that. CADDY turns away; WOODWARD goes right on. WOODWARD What I don't understand is how you got here. CADDY I assure you, there's nothing mysterious involved. WOODWARD Probably you're right, but a little while ago, I was talking to a couple of lawyers who'd been assigned to represent the burglars. CADDY So? WOODWARD Well, they never would have been assigned if anyone had known the burglars had arranged for their own counsel. And that could only mean the burglars didn't arrange for their own counsel--they never even made a phone call. (looks at CADDY) So if they didn't ask for you to be here, how did you know to come? Without a word, CADDY turns, leaves the line without getting a drink. Silently, WOODWARD watches. Now-- CUT TO: CADDY seated as before beside RAFFERTY. WOODWARD's voice come from behind him, and as CADDY turns, WOODWARD is seated one row back. WOODWARD Did you know to come because one of the other men involved in the break- in called you? CADDY (turning) There is no reason to assume other people were involved. WOODWARD Your clients were arrested with a walkie-talkie; they didn't need that to talk among themselves. CADDY looks at WOODWARD, turns back. CADDY (turning back) They are not my clients. WOODWARD You're a lawyer and you're here-- CADDY --I met one of the defendants, Mr. Barker, at a social occasion once-- (stops himself) --I have nothing more to say. WOODWARD (leaning forward as CADDY turns away again) A Miami social occasion? (explaining) Mr. Rafferty told me the Cubans were from Miami. CADDY (sighing) Barker's wife called me at three this morning; her husband apparently had told her to call if he hadn't called her by then. WOODWARD It was really nice of you to come, since you'd only met him once. CADDY Are you implying you don't believe me? WOODWARD I have nothing more to say. CADDY You don't mind getting on people's nerves, do you? WOODWARD considers this a moment. Then-- WOODWARD Nope. And on that word-- CUT TO: THE COURTROOM as without warning, it quiets. There is suddenly a tremendous air of expectancy, you can feel it. Now we see why as five men in dark business suits are led in; they've been stripped of belts, ties, and shoelaces. McCord is taller than the others. They stand, facing the JUDGE, backs to the audience. WOODWARD sits watching as the proceedings start, but it's hard to hear. He concentrates as the JUDGE starts speaking. JUDGE Will you please state your professions. The five men do not move or reply. Then, after a long pause, Barker says-- BARKER Anti-Communists. JUDGE Anti-Communists? (perplexed) That, sir, is not your average occupation. WOODWARD starts moving forward now, down an aisle, moving past kids and whores and all the rest, trying to hear what the hell's going on. At the front of the spectator's section is a fence-like wooden barricade about three feet high. As he approaches it-- The JUDGE indicates the bald burglar. JUDGE Your name, please. MCCORD James McCord. JUDGE Will you step forward, sir. (MCCORD obeys) WOODWARD at the bench is leaning forward, trying to hear but it's hard. JUDGE And what is your occupation, Mr. McCord? MCCORD (softly) Security consultant. JUDGE Where? MCCORD (softer) Government. Recently retired. JUDGE Where in government? MCCORD (we can't really make this out) ...Central... Intelligence... Agency... JUDGE (he can't either) Where? MCCORD (clearing his throat) The C.I.A. And on these words, ZOOM TO: CLOSE UP--WOODWARD leaning over the fence practically falling over it in a desperate straining effort to catch what's going on. WOODWARD (stunned) Holy shit. Now from the courtroom-- CUT TO: THOUSANDS AND THOUSANDS OF WASHINGTON POSTS. We are at the end of the press run, the papers are all assembled and being cabled and sent off by machine to various places. As the papers continue to roll past-- A UNION TYPE EMPLOYEE grabs a paper, looks at the front page. The Watergate story, headlined whatever it was headlined, is visible. The byline was by Alfred E. Lewis. The union type Post employee glances at the article-- UNION POST EMPLOYEE (reading half-aloud) "Five men, one of whom said he is a former employee..." (stops reading, gives a shrug) Schmucks. And he turns happily to the sports section-- CUT TO: A CLOSE UP OF HUNDRED DOLLAR BILLS. It's new money and looks as if it's been recently ironed. Someone is going through the cash, making a quick count. During this-- FIRST VOICE (V.O.) Hurry it, huh, Bachinski? BACHINSKI You said I could look at it-- PULL BACK TO REVEAL We're in a room in a police station and two men are present. One, a COP, is nervous as hell and constantly aware of the door. The other, BACHINSKI, is taking hurried notes in a reporter's type notebook as he examines the evidence. COP --I said look, not memorize-- BACHINSKI --almost done, give it a rest, all right... (and he looks at an address book, he stops) CUT TO: THE ADDRESS BOOK. Beside the name "Howard E. Hunt" is the notation "W.House." Now, BACHINSKI hurriedly opens the other book to the letter "H" and there is the same name, "Howard E. Hunt" and beside it, the letters, "W.H." COP (V.O.) What'd you find? BACHINSKI (V.O.) Beats me. These notebooks belonged to Cuban guys? COP (V.O.) S'right. BACHINSKI (V.O.) It's gotta mean either White House or whore house, one or the other. We HOLD on the HUNT name, and the address notations. Then-- CUT TO: WOODWARD'S APARTMENT - NIGHT. The phone rings, waking him. He fumbles for the phone and the light, finally gets them both. WOODWARD Bachinski? (reaches for a notebook) What?--hold it-- (gets it open, starts to write) --OK, go on, go on... CUT TO: A BOX OF MAALOX TABLETS. ROSENFELD is opening them, we're in his office, WOODWARD sits across the desk, holding the notebook we saw him writing in. ROSENFELD ...go on, go on... WOODWARD That's everything Bachinski had, I think it's worth following up. ROSENFELD Don't know; who the hell's Howard Hunt? (crunches tablets) It's probably nothing but check it out. Just go easy, it could be crazy Cubans. HOWARD SIMONS sticks his head in the office. SIMONS Anything? ROSENFELD Woodward's onto a new wrinkle with the break-in thing--absolute page one stuff-- SIMONS --in other words, you got nothing, you're thumbsucking. ROSENFELD (shrugs) Could develop. SIMONS Let me see what you get, but don't jump--The New York Times thinks it's crazy Cubans. He moves on. ROSENFELD turns quickly to WOODWARD. ROSENFELD OK, get on this W.House guy and do a better job then you did on McCord. WOODWARD I did all right on McCord. ROSENFELD Then how come the Associated Press were the ones found out that Mr. McCord is security coordinator for the Committee to Re-elect the President, otherwise known as CREEP? WOODWARD (getting it straight) The head of security for the reelection of a Republican President got caught bugging the national offices of the Democrats? What the hell does that mean? ROSENFELD (hasn't the foggiest) Mr. John Mitchell, the head of CREEP, says it means nothing. (reads) "...This man and the other people involved were not operating on either our behalf or with our consent. These is no place in our campaign or in the electoral process for this type of activity, and we will not forget it or condone it." WOODWARD (getting up) You can't believe that. ROSENFELD As a rough rule of thumb, as far as I can throw Bronco Nagurski, that's how much I trust John Mitchell... Now-- CUT TO: A MOON-FACED MAN RINGING A TRIANGLE. CUT TO: THE NEWSROOM as the triangle sound echoes. HOWARD SIMONS leaves large Managing Editor's office, walks past another office, knocks twice on the glass wall. Inside the Executive Editor's office, BEN BRADLEE sits. As SIMONS knocks, he turns, nods. He appears, for the moment, deep in thought. HARRY ROSENFELD on the opposite end of the room hurries out of his office, following a bunch of editors, all of them heading across the huge room. As he passes WOODWARD's desk ROSENFELD pauses. ROSENFELD What'd you get on W.House? WOODWARD (massaging his neck) Lotsa hints-- ROSENFELD (not happy) I can't sell hints to Simons-- (stops, looks at piece of yellow paper) --you called everyone you know? (WOODWARD makes a nod) Call someone you don't know. WOODWARD continues to rub his neck as ROSENFELD hurries off, all the editors still moving toward the place where the moon- faced man intermittently rings the triangle. WOODWARD picks up the sheet of yellow paper from his desk. Lined, legal-sized, it is crammed with names and numbers and addresses. They are in no neat order; looking at them it's almost like following a path; chicken tracks in ink. WOODWARD mutters "to hell with it" and reaches for a thick book, flips it open. NOW WE SEE THE BOOK: It's the Washington Phone Directory and we're in the W's. As WOODWARD's finger stops, we can see he's looking at the White HOuse entry number. There it is, just like your name and mine. Listed. Now WOODWARD starts to dial, visibly nervous, a fact he tries very hard to keep out of his voice tone. WHITE HOUSE OPERATOR (V.O.) White House. WOODWARD (casually) Howard Hunt, please. Throughout the following call, we stay on WOODWARD's face, hear the other voices. WHITE HOUSE OPERATOR (V.O.) Mr. Hunt does not answer. WOODWARD is delighted he's even there. WOODWARD Thanks, anyway-- And he's about to hang up, when-- WHITE HOUSE OPERATOR (V.O.) I'll bet he's in Mr. Colson's office. Let me connect you. SECRETARY (V.O.) Charles Colson's wire. WOODWARD (a little more excited) Howard Hunt, please. SECRETARY (V.O.) Mr. Hunt isn't here just now. WOODWARD Thanks, anyway. And he's about to hang up again when-- SECRETARY (V.O.) Have you tried Mullen and Company Public Relations? He works at Mullen and Company Public Relations as a writer. The number is 555-1313. I'm sorry I couldn't be more helpful. WOODWARD Listen, forget it. He hangs up, sits there. His hands are a little twitchy... HOLD. Now-- CUT TO: ROSENFELD hurrying (he always hurries) toward his office. WOODWARD, looking for something in his desk throughout this scene, speaks to him. WOODWARD Who's Charles Colson? ROSENFELD (stops dead) I would liken your query to being in Russia half a century ago and asking someone, "I understand who Lenin is and Trotsky I got too, but who's this yokel Stalin?" WOODWARD Who's Colson, Harry? ROSENFELD The most powerful man in America is President Nixon, probably you've heard his name. WOODWARD, unfazed by anything, continues to open drawers, close them, as ROSENFELD rolls on. ROSENFELD The second most powerful man is Robert Haldeman. Just below him are a trio: Mr. Erlichman is Haldeman's friend, and they protect the President from everybody which is why they are referred to as either The German Shepherds or the Berlin Wall. Mr. Mitchell we've already discussed. Mr. Colson is the President's special counsel. WOODWARD (rising) Thanks, Harry. (looks at ROSENFELD) Know anything about Colson? ROSENFELD Just that on his office wall there's a cartoon with a caption reading, "When you've got them by the balls, their hearts and minds will follow." WOODWARD nods, heads back toward the files as we CUT TO: WOODWARD AT HIS DESK dialing the phone. He's got the Colson file spread out now, and we see pictures of the man and articles the Post had done on him. But basically what we see is WOODWARD plugging away on the goddamn phone and you'd think his finger would fall off from all the dialing and you know his voice is tiring as this montage goes on, you can hear it grow raspy. But a lot of what a reporter does he does on the phone, and that's what we're compressing here. The dialing never stops, the voices are continuous. WOODWARD Hello, I'm Bob Woodward of the Washing Post and... (beat) Mullen and Company Public Relations? Could you tell me when you expect Mr. Hunt? (surprised) He is? HUNT (V.O.) Howard Hunt here. WOODWARD Hi, I'm Bob Woodward of the Post and-- HUNT (V.O.) (impatient) --yes, yes, what is it? WOODWARD I was just kind of wondering why your name and phone number were in the address books of two of the men arrested at Watergate? HUNT (V.O.) (blind panic) Good God! And he bangs the phone down sharply-- --more dialing SOUNDS. Now snatches of conversation-- WOODWARD I'm sorry to bother you, Mr. Bennett, but we're doing some investigating of one of your employees, Howard Hunt. BENNETT (V.O.) Well, if you've been doing some investigating then obviously it's no secret to you that Howard was with the C.I.A. WOODWARD (he hadn't known) No secret at all. More dialing. Then-- WOODWARD (tired, voice deeper) Hello, C.I.A. This is R.W. Woodward, of the Washington Post--get me Personnel-- Dialing again. WOODWARD's voice is showing genuine fatigue. WOODWARD Hi, I'm Bob Woodward of the Washington Post--and--what's that?--you've never heard of me?--I can't help that--you don't believe I'm with the Post?-- what do you want me to do, Madam, shout "extra--extra"? There is the SOUND of the phone being slammed down in his ear. Hard. Now-- CUT TO: ROSENFELD AND SIMONS approaching WOODWARD who is working at his desk. He has put in a lot of hours on this and looks it. ROSENFELD Whaddya got, whaddya got? WOODWARD Hunt is Colson's man-- (to SIMONS, explaining) --that's Charles Colson, Nixon's special counsel-- (SIMONS almost says something, decides against it) --they both went to Brown University-- (consulting his notes) --Hunt worked for the C.I.A. till '70, and this is on deep background, the FBI thinks he's involved with the break-in. SIMONS What else have you got? WOODWARD According to White House personnel, Hunt definitely works there as a consultant for Colson. But when I called the White House Press office, they said he hadn't worked there for three months. Then the P.R. guy said the weirdest thing to me. (reading) "I am convinced that neither Mr. Colson nor anyone else at the White House had any knowledge of, or participation in, this deplorable incident at the Democratic National Committee." He looks up at them. SIMONS Isn't that what you'd expect them to say? WOODWARD Absolutely. ROSENFELD So? WOODWARD (he's got something and he knows it) I never asked them about Watergate. I only said what were Hunt's duties at the White House. They volunteered that he was innocent when nobody asked was he guilty. ROSENFELD (to SIMONS) I think we got a White House consultant linked to the bugging. SIMONS (nods) Just be careful how you write it. CUT TO: WOODWARD TYPING LIKE MAD, makes a mistake, corrects it, types on muttering to himself, and-- CUT TO: ROSENFELD IN HIS OFFICE munching a handful of Maalox tablets and-- CUT TO: WOODWARD taking a sheet from his typewriter, hurrying off and-- CUT TO: ROSENFELD taking the sheet from WOODWARD-- WOODWARD Here's the first take-- ROSENFELD nods, shows him out and-- CUT TO: WOODWARD BACK AT HIS MACHINE typing faster then before, makes another mistake, starts to correct it, glances around and-- CUT TO: ROSENFELD IN HIS OFFICE gesturing to somebody but not WOODWARD and-- CUT TO: WOODWARD watching as BERNSTEIN appears in view from behind the wide pillar by WOODWARD's desk, heads toward ROSENFELD's office. WOODWARD shrugs, goes back to his typing, makes a typo immediately, glances over toward ROSENFELD's office, freezes as we-- CUT TO: ROSENFELD handing some papers to BERNSTEIN. They look, from this distance, suspiciously like WOODWARD's story. CUT TO: BERNSTEIN hurrying out of ROSENFELD's office, and-- CUT TO: WOODWARD watching BERNSTEIN until he disappears out of sight behind the pillar. WOODWARD hesitates, finally goes back to his typing, makes another mistake, fixes it, makes still another, his temper is shortly to make itself known-- CUT TO: ROSENFELD as WOODWARD hands him another sheet of paper. WOODWARD This is all of it, Harry. ROSENFELD NODS, takes it, immediately starts to read as we-- CUT TO: WOODWARD AT HIS DESK watching as ROSENFELD gestures again. There is a pause. Then BERNSTEIN appears from behind the pillar and-- CUT TO: ROSENFELD handing BERNSTEIN another sheet of paper. BERSTEIN nods, takes it, walks back toward his desk, disappears behind the pillar again. WOODWARD is starting to steam. Now-- CUT TO: BERNSTEIN AT HIS DESK typing magnificently, his hands rising and falling like Rubinstein's. Behind him is the pillar and for a moment there is nothing--then, very slowly, a figure peers out from behind the pillar--it is WOODWARD. He watches. BERNSTEIN continues to type, then after a moment, rests, thinks, shifts around in his chair and as his glance starts toward the pillar-- CUT TO: THE PILLAR. WOODWARD is gone. CUT TO: BERNSTEIN typing madly away. THE PILLAR. WOODWARD is visible again, eyes very bright... now-- CUT TO: BERNSTEIN finishing typing, his hands moving majestically. WOODWARD comes up behind him, stands looking a second. Then-- WOODWARD We have to talk. BERNSTEIN nods, grabs the papers both that he's been typing and that he's been copying from. And as he rises-- PAN TO: WOODWARD AND BERNSTEIN walking silently out of the newsroom then turning left down a darker corridor, passing bulletin boards and wall lockers and it's all nice and quiet as they amble on, nodding to the few people they pass on their way and after a while they turn right and enter the coffee lounge which is empty; the walls are lined with Norman Rockwell reproductions and various kinds of vending machines are visible, selling coffee or milk or fruit or sandwiches and there are some plastic tables and chairs and the minute they are alone, the silence ends. WOODWARD What the hell were you doing rewriting my story-- BERNSTEIN --I sure couldn't hurt it, could I?-- WOODWARD --it was fine the way it was-- BERNSTEIN --it was bullshit the way it was-- WOODWARD --I have to stand here and listen to the staff correspondent from Virginia?-- BERNSTEIN (a sore subject) --what have you been here, nine months?--I been in this business since I was sixteen-- WOODWARD --and you've had some fucking meteoric rise, that's for sure--by the time you turn forty you might be the head of the Montana bureau-- BERNSTEIN --you only got the job because both you and Bradlee went to Yale-- WOODWARD --Bradlee went to Harvard-- BERNSTEIN --they're all the same, all those Ivy League places--they teach you about striped ties and suddenly you're smart-- WOODWARD --I'm smart enough to know my story was solid-- BERNSTEIN --mine's better-- WOODWARD --no way-- BERNSTEIN (handing them over) --read 'em both and you'll see-- And as WOODWARD glances at the two stories-- CUT TO: BERNSTEIN watching. Now-- CUT TO: WOODWARD. He glances from one story to the other. Then, disconsolately-- WOODWARD ...crap... And he sinks down in a chair. BERNSTEIN Is mine better? WOODWARD nods. WOODWARD (handing the stories back) What is it about my writing that's so rotten? BERNSTEIN (as he exits) Mainly it has to do with your choice of words. And as he goes, leaving WOODWARD just sitting there-- CUT TO: BERSTEIN, re-entering the newsroom, returning to his desk. He starts to insert some papers into his typewriter, hesitates, lights a cigarette. He inhales, as, behind him, WOODWARD briefly is visible going to his desk behind the pillar. Finally BERNSTEIN inserts the paper, starts to type as WOODWARD (V.O.) (from behind the pillar) Carl? BERNSTEIN (turns) Yeah? WOODWARD (pushing his chair briefly into view) Fuck you, Carl. And as he rolls forward again, out of sight-- CUT TO: RICHARD NIXON ON THE TUBE. (It's the June 22 Press Conference.) He talks on about something, it doesn't matter exactly what here, the point is, it should include that strange smile of his that kept appearing when the man should not have been smiling. Hints of pressure maybe, that's all, and once it's established-- PULL BACK TO REVEAL: WOODWARD sitting alone, gloomily staring at the set. We're in the Post Cafeteria, it's the next morning, and the place is pretty much empty. He sips the coffee, it tastes rotten. BERNSTEIN moves up behind him, carrying a cup of coffee of his own. He stands by WOODWARD briefly. BERNSTEIN You heard? (WOODWARD glances up) They put us both on the break-in thing. Simons liked the way we worked together. (WOODWARD nods, BERNSTEIN sits down) Listen, I'm sorry I said your story was bullshit. WOODWARD It's OK; I'm sorry I called you a failure. BERNSTEIN Forget it, the main thing-- (stops) --did you call me a failure? WOODWARD I was sure trying. CUT TO: WOODWARD, BERNSTEIN, AND NIXON. The way it's shot, it's almost as if they're watching each other; NIXON staring out from the TV set, answering questions. WOODWARD and BERNSTEIN sip coffee. We don't know yet--or better, they don't know it yet, but these are our adversaries. CUT TO: WOODWARD AND BERNSTEIN, without NIXON now. They sit at the table. Occasionally, NIXON is audible in the background. WOODWARD All right, what do we know? BERNSTEIN Let me lay a little theory on you-- WOODWARD (cutting him off) --I'm not interested in theory. What do we know? For example, Hunt's disappeared. BERNSTEIN Well, Barker tried to get blueprints of the Miami Convention Center and the air-conditioning system. WOODWARD And McCord was carrying an application for college press credentials for the Democratic convention. (to BERNSTEIN) The Times has got to be full of it-- it can't be crazy Cubans. BERNSTEIN What, though? (points to Nixon) It can't be the Republicans--he'd never allow something as stupid as this, not when he's gonna slaughter McGovern anyway. WOODWARD Right. Nixon didn't get where he got by being dumb-- (stops abruptly) --listen, that was a Watergate question-- CUT TO: NIXON ON THE TUBE. Serious now. NIXON The White House has had no involvement whatever in this particular incident. CUT TO: WOODWARD AND BERNSTEIN staring at the set thinking... CUT TO: WOODWARD AND BERNSTEIN walking toward BERSTEIN'S desk. WOODWARD Hey? BERNSTEIN Hmm. WOODWARD What do you think he meant, this particular incident? Were there others? How would we find out? You know anyone important? BERNSTEIN (sits, shakes his head) I lived here all my life, I got a million contacts, but they're all bus boys and bellhops. The reporter KEN RINGLE at the next desk watches them a moment. Then-- RINGLE What do you need? BERNSTEIN Someone inside the White House would be nice. RINGLE (writes down phone number) Call her. She worked for Colson, if that's any help. As BERNSTEIN grabs for the phone-- CUT TO: A SECRETARIAL POOL IN A LARGE OFFICE. BERNSTEIN is talking off to one side with an attractive girl. GIRL Kenny's crazy, I never worked for Colson, I worked for an assistant. Colson was big on secrets anyway. Even if I had worked for him, I wouldn't have known anything. BERNSTEIN Nothing at all you can remember? SECRETARY (headshake) Sorry. (pause) Now if it was Hunt you were interested in-- BERNSTEIN --Howard Hunt? SECRETARY Sure. Him I liked, he was a very nice person. Secretive too, traveled all over, but a decent man. BERNSTEIN Any idea what he did? SECRETARY Oh, the scuttlebutt for awhile was he was investigating Kennedy-- BERNSTEIN --Teddy Kennedy? SECRETARY Sure. I remember seeing a book about Chappaquiddick on his desk and he was always getting material out of the White House Library and the Library of Congress and-- And as

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How many times the word 'rest' appears in the text?

All the President's Men Script at IMSDb. var _gaq = _gaq || []; _gaq.push(['_setAccount', 'UA-3785444-3']); _gaq.push(['_trackPageview']); (function() { var ga = document.createElement('script'); ga.type = 'text/javascript'; ga.async = true; ga.src = ('https:' == document.location.protocol ? 'https://ssl' : 'http://www') + '.google-analytics.com/ga.js'; var s = document.getElementsByTagName('script')[0]; s.parentNode.insertBefore(ga, s); })(); The Internet Movie Script Database (IMSDb) The web's largest movie script resource! Search IMSDb Alphabetical # A B C D E F G H I J K L M N O P Q R S T U V W X Y Z Genre Action Adventure Animation Comedy Crime Drama Family Fantasy Film-Noir Horror Musical Mystery Romance Sci-Fi Short Thriller War Western Sponsor TV Transcripts Futurama Seinfeld South Park Stargate SG-1 Lost The 4400 International French scripts Movie Software Rip from DVD Rip Blu-Ray Latest Comments Star Wars: Revenge of the Sith10/10 Star Wars: The Force Awakens10/10 Batman Begins9/10 Collateral10/10 Jackie Brown8/10 Movie Chat Message Yell ! ALL SCRIPTS ALL THE PRESIDENT'S MEN - by William Goldman if (window!= top) top.location.href=location.href // --> "ALL THE PRESIDENT'S MEN" by William Goldman Based on the novel "All The President's Men" by Carl Bernstein and Bob Woodward Pre-rehearsal version March, 1975 Start with as few credits as possible. When they're over-- FADE IN ON: A TINY BLACK PIECE OF TAPE. We see it in the center of the large, dimly lit screen. As the tape is pressed around a door-- BEGIN THE BREAK-IN SEQUENCE. It's a major piece of action, running maybe five minutes and it's all as detailed and accurate as we can make it, with as many "if only's" included as possible. ("If only" the tape had been attached up and down instead of around the door, Wills wouldn't have spotted it and alerted the police; "if only" the first police car called had gone to investigate, Baldwin, watching from the Howard Johnson Motor Inn, would have seen their uniforms and radioed Hunt and Liddy in time for them to have gotten to the five burglars and then safely away.) The break-in ends when Leeper arrests the five men. He thought he only had one guy, so when ten hands were raised he was surprised. The hands are all encased in Playtex rubber surgical gloves. HOLD on the hands a moment; then-- GO TO: A DARK APARTMENT. The phone rings. WOODWARD fumbles for the receiver, turns on the bed light. He listens a moment. WOODWARD No, no trouble, Harry, be right down. (he hangs up) Son of a bitch. He lies back. The apartment is one room, a small terrace beyond. Not much of a place. WOODWARD lies still, staring at the ceiling. He blinks, blinks again. HOLD... CUT TO: THE ENORMOUS FIFTH FLOOR OF THE WASHINGTON POST. It looks, early of a Saturday morning, pretty deserted. Those reporters that are around are young, bright, and presently involved in nothing more taxing than drinking coffee and thumbing through the papers. HARRY ROSENFELD surveys the scene from his office doorway as WOODWARD approaches, hangs his coat at his desk, not far from where ROSENFELD is standing. ROSENFELD Where's that cheery face we've come to know and love? WOODWARD You call me in on my day off because some idiots have broken into local Democratic Headquarters--tell me, Harry, why should I be smiling? ROSENFELD As usual, that keen mind of yours has pegged the situation perfectly. (chomps on some Maalox tablets) Except (a) it wasn't local Democratic Headquarters, it was National Democratic Headquarters-- (WOODWARD is surprised-- he hadn't known) --and (b) these weren't just any idiots, these were special idiots, seeing as when they were arrested at 2:30 this morning, they were all wearing business suits and Playtex gloves and were carrying-- (consults a piece of paper) --a walkie-talkie, forty rolls of film, cameras, lock picks, pen-sized tear gas guns, plus various bugging devices. (puts paper down) Not to mention over two thousand dollars, mostly in sequenced hundred dollar bills. WOODWARD Preliminary hearing at Superior Courthouse? ROSENFELD (nods) Two o'clock, work the phones 'til you go. CUT TO: THE CRIMINAL COURTS BUILDING. WOODWARD hurries along, goes inside as we CUT TO: A CORRIDOR INSIDE. WOODWARD comes down it, looks around, sees a door marked "Counsel's Offices" and heads toward it. Now-- CUT TO: A CLERK AT A DESK as WOODWARD comes up. Behind them, two lawyers are clearly angry about something, talking and gesticulating to each other. WOODWARD (to the COUNSEL'S CLERK) Could you give me the names of the lawyers for the men arrested in the Watergate. CLERK These two were appointed-- (indicates the angry men) --only now it turns out the burglars got their own counsel. (he starts to laugh) FIRST ANGRY LAWYER (to CLERK) When you gonna stop thinking it's so funny. SECOND ANGRY LAWYER (To CLERK) We wouldda done a terrific job protecting those guys. (neither lawyer, by the way, is Clarence Darrow) FIRST ANGRY LAWYER You think we're not as good as some hotshot fancy lawyer?-- CUT TO: THE COURTROOM and business is booming. Muggers, pimp, hookers, their families and friends. In the scene that follows, a constant counterpoint is what's going on up at the front as an endless succession of petty criminals caught the previous night, the aforementioned muggers, pimps, and hookers, are shuttled in, given a quick appearance before a JUDGE who sets bond, and then shuttled out. In the audience, one man stands out--DOUGLAS CADDY. He is extremely well-dressed and obviously successful. Beside him sits another smaller man, who is unshaven and squints. WOODWARD moves in, sits alongside CADDY. WOODWARD Mr. Caddy? My name's Bob Woodward, I'm from the Post and I wanted to ask about how you happened to come on this case-- CADDY --I'm not here. WOODWARD (nods) OK. He takes out a small notebook, writes, muttering aloud as he does. WOODWARD Douglas Caddy, the attorney of record, when questioned about his presence in the courtroom, denied he was in the courtroom, "I'm not here," Mr. Caddy said. CADDY (impatiently) Clearly, I am here, but only as an individual, I'm not the attorney of record. (indicating unshaven man) Mr. Rafferty has that position. Whatever you want, you'll have to get from him, I have nothing more to say. And as he gets up, walks off-- CUT TO: THE WATER FOUNTAIN IN THE CORRIDOR. There is a small line. CADDY waits at the end of it. WOODWARD (moving in behind him) Mr. Rafferty was very helpful. Four Cuban-Americans and this other man, James McCord. CADDY Look, I told you inside-- WOODWARD --you have nothing more to say, I understand that. CADDY turns away; WOODWARD goes right on. WOODWARD What I don't understand is how you got here. CADDY I assure you, there's nothing mysterious involved. WOODWARD Probably you're right, but a little while ago, I was talking to a couple of lawyers who'd been assigned to represent the burglars. CADDY So? WOODWARD Well, they never would have been assigned if anyone had known the burglars had arranged for their own counsel. And that could only mean the burglars didn't arrange for their own counsel--they never even made a phone call. (looks at CADDY) So if they didn't ask for you to be here, how did you know to come? Without a word, CADDY turns, leaves the line without getting a drink. Silently, WOODWARD watches. Now-- CUT TO: CADDY seated as before beside RAFFERTY. WOODWARD's voice come from behind him, and as CADDY turns, WOODWARD is seated one row back. WOODWARD Did you know to come because one of the other men involved in the break- in called you? CADDY (turning) There is no reason to assume other people were involved. WOODWARD Your clients were arrested with a walkie-talkie; they didn't need that to talk among themselves. CADDY looks at WOODWARD, turns back. CADDY (turning back) They are not my clients. WOODWARD You're a lawyer and you're here-- CADDY --I met one of the defendants, Mr. Barker, at a social occasion once-- (stops himself) --I have nothing more to say. WOODWARD (leaning forward as CADDY turns away again) A Miami social occasion? (explaining) Mr. Rafferty told me the Cubans were from Miami. CADDY (sighing) Barker's wife called me at three this morning; her husband apparently had told her to call if he hadn't called her by then. WOODWARD It was really nice of you to come, since you'd only met him once. CADDY Are you implying you don't believe me? WOODWARD I have nothing more to say. CADDY You don't mind getting on people's nerves, do you? WOODWARD considers this a moment. Then-- WOODWARD Nope. And on that word-- CUT TO: THE COURTROOM as without warning, it quiets. There is suddenly a tremendous air of expectancy, you can feel it. Now we see why as five men in dark business suits are led in; they've been stripped of belts, ties, and shoelaces. McCord is taller than the others. They stand, facing the JUDGE, backs to the audience. WOODWARD sits watching as the proceedings start, but it's hard to hear. He concentrates as the JUDGE starts speaking. JUDGE Will you please state your professions. The five men do not move or reply. Then, after a long pause, Barker says-- BARKER Anti-Communists. JUDGE Anti-Communists? (perplexed) That, sir, is not your average occupation. WOODWARD starts moving forward now, down an aisle, moving past kids and whores and all the rest, trying to hear what the hell's going on. At the front of the spectator's section is a fence-like wooden barricade about three feet high. As he approaches it-- The JUDGE indicates the bald burglar. JUDGE Your name, please. MCCORD James McCord. JUDGE Will you step forward, sir. (MCCORD obeys) WOODWARD at the bench is leaning forward, trying to hear but it's hard. JUDGE And what is your occupation, Mr. McCord? MCCORD (softly) Security consultant. JUDGE Where? MCCORD (softer) Government. Recently retired. JUDGE Where in government? MCCORD (we can't really make this out) ...Central... Intelligence... Agency... JUDGE (he can't either) Where? MCCORD (clearing his throat) The C.I.A. And on these words, ZOOM TO: CLOSE UP--WOODWARD leaning over the fence practically falling over it in a desperate straining effort to catch what's going on. WOODWARD (stunned) Holy shit. Now from the courtroom-- CUT TO: THOUSANDS AND THOUSANDS OF WASHINGTON POSTS. We are at the end of the press run, the papers are all assembled and being cabled and sent off by machine to various places. As the papers continue to roll past-- A UNION TYPE EMPLOYEE grabs a paper, looks at the front page. The Watergate story, headlined whatever it was headlined, is visible. The byline was by Alfred E. Lewis. The union type Post employee glances at the article-- UNION POST EMPLOYEE (reading half-aloud) "Five men, one of whom said he is a former employee..." (stops reading, gives a shrug) Schmucks. And he turns happily to the sports section-- CUT TO: A CLOSE UP OF HUNDRED DOLLAR BILLS. It's new money and looks as if it's been recently ironed. Someone is going through the cash, making a quick count. During this-- FIRST VOICE (V.O.) Hurry it, huh, Bachinski? BACHINSKI You said I could look at it-- PULL BACK TO REVEAL We're in a room in a police station and two men are present. One, a COP, is nervous as hell and constantly aware of the door. The other, BACHINSKI, is taking hurried notes in a reporter's type notebook as he examines the evidence. COP --I said look, not memorize-- BACHINSKI --almost done, give it a rest, all right... (and he looks at an address book, he stops) CUT TO: THE ADDRESS BOOK. Beside the name "Howard E. Hunt" is the notation "W.House." Now, BACHINSKI hurriedly opens the other book to the letter "H" and there is the same name, "Howard E. Hunt" and beside it, the letters, "W.H." COP (V.O.) What'd you find? BACHINSKI (V.O.) Beats me. These notebooks belonged to Cuban guys? COP (V.O.) S'right. BACHINSKI (V.O.) It's gotta mean either White House or whore house, one or the other. We HOLD on the HUNT name, and the address notations. Then-- CUT TO: WOODWARD'S APARTMENT - NIGHT. The phone rings, waking him. He fumbles for the phone and the light, finally gets them both. WOODWARD Bachinski? (reaches for a notebook) What?--hold it-- (gets it open, starts to write) --OK, go on, go on... CUT TO: A BOX OF MAALOX TABLETS. ROSENFELD is opening them, we're in his office, WOODWARD sits across the desk, holding the notebook we saw him writing in. ROSENFELD ...go on, go on... WOODWARD That's everything Bachinski had, I think it's worth following up. ROSENFELD Don't know; who the hell's Howard Hunt? (crunches tablets) It's probably nothing but check it out. Just go easy, it could be crazy Cubans. HOWARD SIMONS sticks his head in the office. SIMONS Anything? ROSENFELD Woodward's onto a new wrinkle with the break-in thing--absolute page one stuff-- SIMONS --in other words, you got nothing, you're thumbsucking. ROSENFELD (shrugs) Could develop. SIMONS Let me see what you get, but don't jump--The New York Times thinks it's crazy Cubans. He moves on. ROSENFELD turns quickly to WOODWARD. ROSENFELD OK, get on this W.House guy and do a better job then you did on McCord. WOODWARD I did all right on McCord. ROSENFELD Then how come the Associated Press were the ones found out that Mr. McCord is security coordinator for the Committee to Re-elect the President, otherwise known as CREEP? WOODWARD (getting it straight) The head of security for the reelection of a Republican President got caught bugging the national offices of the Democrats? What the hell does that mean? ROSENFELD (hasn't the foggiest) Mr. John Mitchell, the head of CREEP, says it means nothing. (reads) "...This man and the other people involved were not operating on either our behalf or with our consent. These is no place in our campaign or in the electoral process for this type of activity, and we will not forget it or condone it." WOODWARD (getting up) You can't believe that. ROSENFELD As a rough rule of thumb, as far as I can throw Bronco Nagurski, that's how much I trust John Mitchell... Now-- CUT TO: A MOON-FACED MAN RINGING A TRIANGLE. CUT TO: THE NEWSROOM as the triangle sound echoes. HOWARD SIMONS leaves large Managing Editor's office, walks past another office, knocks twice on the glass wall. Inside the Executive Editor's office, BEN BRADLEE sits. As SIMONS knocks, he turns, nods. He appears, for the moment, deep in thought. HARRY ROSENFELD on the opposite end of the room hurries out of his office, following a bunch of editors, all of them heading across the huge room. As he passes WOODWARD's desk ROSENFELD pauses. ROSENFELD What'd you get on W.House? WOODWARD (massaging his neck) Lotsa hints-- ROSENFELD (not happy) I can't sell hints to Simons-- (stops, looks at piece of yellow paper) --you called everyone you know? (WOODWARD makes a nod) Call someone you don't know. WOODWARD continues to rub his neck as ROSENFELD hurries off, all the editors still moving toward the place where the moon- faced man intermittently rings the triangle. WOODWARD picks up the sheet of yellow paper from his desk. Lined, legal-sized, it is crammed with names and numbers and addresses. They are in no neat order; looking at them it's almost like following a path; chicken tracks in ink. WOODWARD mutters "to hell with it" and reaches for a thick book, flips it open. NOW WE SEE THE BOOK: It's the Washington Phone Directory and we're in the W's. As WOODWARD's finger stops, we can see he's looking at the White HOuse entry number. There it is, just like your name and mine. Listed. Now WOODWARD starts to dial, visibly nervous, a fact he tries very hard to keep out of his voice tone. WHITE HOUSE OPERATOR (V.O.) White House. WOODWARD (casually) Howard Hunt, please. Throughout the following call, we stay on WOODWARD's face, hear the other voices. WHITE HOUSE OPERATOR (V.O.) Mr. Hunt does not answer. WOODWARD is delighted he's even there. WOODWARD Thanks, anyway-- And he's about to hang up, when-- WHITE HOUSE OPERATOR (V.O.) I'll bet he's in Mr. Colson's office. Let me connect you. SECRETARY (V.O.) Charles Colson's wire. WOODWARD (a little more excited) Howard Hunt, please. SECRETARY (V.O.) Mr. Hunt isn't here just now. WOODWARD Thanks, anyway. And he's about to hang up again when-- SECRETARY (V.O.) Have you tried Mullen and Company Public Relations? He works at Mullen and Company Public Relations as a writer. The number is 555-1313. I'm sorry I couldn't be more helpful. WOODWARD Listen, forget it. He hangs up, sits there. His hands are a little twitchy... HOLD. Now-- CUT TO: ROSENFELD hurrying (he always hurries) toward his office. WOODWARD, looking for something in his desk throughout this scene, speaks to him. WOODWARD Who's Charles Colson? ROSENFELD (stops dead) I would liken your query to being in Russia half a century ago and asking someone, "I understand who Lenin is and Trotsky I got too, but who's this yokel Stalin?" WOODWARD Who's Colson, Harry? ROSENFELD The most powerful man in America is President Nixon, probably you've heard his name. WOODWARD, unfazed by anything, continues to open drawers, close them, as ROSENFELD rolls on. ROSENFELD The second most powerful man is Robert Haldeman. Just below him are a trio: Mr. Erlichman is Haldeman's friend, and they protect the President from everybody which is why they are referred to as either The German Shepherds or the Berlin Wall. Mr. Mitchell we've already discussed. Mr. Colson is the President's special counsel. WOODWARD (rising) Thanks, Harry. (looks at ROSENFELD) Know anything about Colson? ROSENFELD Just that on his office wall there's a cartoon with a caption reading, "When you've got them by the balls, their hearts and minds will follow." WOODWARD nods, heads back toward the files as we CUT TO: WOODWARD AT HIS DESK dialing the phone. He's got the Colson file spread out now, and we see pictures of the man and articles the Post had done on him. But basically what we see is WOODWARD plugging away on the goddamn phone and you'd think his finger would fall off from all the dialing and you know his voice is tiring as this montage goes on, you can hear it grow raspy. But a lot of what a reporter does he does on the phone, and that's what we're compressing here. The dialing never stops, the voices are continuous. WOODWARD Hello, I'm Bob Woodward of the Washing Post and... (beat) Mullen and Company Public Relations? Could you tell me when you expect Mr. Hunt? (surprised) He is? HUNT (V.O.) Howard Hunt here. WOODWARD Hi, I'm Bob Woodward of the Post and-- HUNT (V.O.) (impatient) --yes, yes, what is it? WOODWARD I was just kind of wondering why your name and phone number were in the address books of two of the men arrested at Watergate? HUNT (V.O.) (blind panic) Good God! And he bangs the phone down sharply-- --more dialing SOUNDS. Now snatches of conversation-- WOODWARD I'm sorry to bother you, Mr. Bennett, but we're doing some investigating of one of your employees, Howard Hunt. BENNETT (V.O.) Well, if you've been doing some investigating then obviously it's no secret to you that Howard was with the C.I.A. WOODWARD (he hadn't known) No secret at all. More dialing. Then-- WOODWARD (tired, voice deeper) Hello, C.I.A. This is R.W. Woodward, of the Washington Post--get me Personnel-- Dialing again. WOODWARD's voice is showing genuine fatigue. WOODWARD Hi, I'm Bob Woodward of the Washington Post--and--what's that?--you've never heard of me?--I can't help that--you don't believe I'm with the Post?-- what do you want me to do, Madam, shout "extra--extra"? There is the SOUND of the phone being slammed down in his ear. Hard. Now-- CUT TO: ROSENFELD AND SIMONS approaching WOODWARD who is working at his desk. He has put in a lot of hours on this and looks it. ROSENFELD Whaddya got, whaddya got? WOODWARD Hunt is Colson's man-- (to SIMONS, explaining) --that's Charles Colson, Nixon's special counsel-- (SIMONS almost says something, decides against it) --they both went to Brown University-- (consulting his notes) --Hunt worked for the C.I.A. till '70, and this is on deep background, the FBI thinks he's involved with the break-in. SIMONS What else have you got? WOODWARD According to White House personnel, Hunt definitely works there as a consultant for Colson. But when I called the White House Press office, they said he hadn't worked there for three months. Then the P.R. guy said the weirdest thing to me. (reading) "I am convinced that neither Mr. Colson nor anyone else at the White House had any knowledge of, or participation in, this deplorable incident at the Democratic National Committee." He looks up at them. SIMONS Isn't that what you'd expect them to say? WOODWARD Absolutely. ROSENFELD So? WOODWARD (he's got something and he knows it) I never asked them about Watergate. I only said what were Hunt's duties at the White House. They volunteered that he was innocent when nobody asked was he guilty. ROSENFELD (to SIMONS) I think we got a White House consultant linked to the bugging. SIMONS (nods) Just be careful how you write it. CUT TO: WOODWARD TYPING LIKE MAD, makes a mistake, corrects it, types on muttering to himself, and-- CUT TO: ROSENFELD IN HIS OFFICE munching a handful of Maalox tablets and-- CUT TO: WOODWARD taking a sheet from his typewriter, hurrying off and-- CUT TO: ROSENFELD taking the sheet from WOODWARD-- WOODWARD Here's the first take-- ROSENFELD nods, shows him out and-- CUT TO: WOODWARD BACK AT HIS MACHINE typing faster then before, makes another mistake, starts to correct it, glances around and-- CUT TO: ROSENFELD IN HIS OFFICE gesturing to somebody but not WOODWARD and-- CUT TO: WOODWARD watching as BERNSTEIN appears in view from behind the wide pillar by WOODWARD's desk, heads toward ROSENFELD's office. WOODWARD shrugs, goes back to his typing, makes a typo immediately, glances over toward ROSENFELD's office, freezes as we-- CUT TO: ROSENFELD handing some papers to BERNSTEIN. They look, from this distance, suspiciously like WOODWARD's story. CUT TO: BERNSTEIN hurrying out of ROSENFELD's office, and-- CUT TO: WOODWARD watching BERNSTEIN until he disappears out of sight behind the pillar. WOODWARD hesitates, finally goes back to his typing, makes another mistake, fixes it, makes still another, his temper is shortly to make itself known-- CUT TO: ROSENFELD as WOODWARD hands him another sheet of paper. WOODWARD This is all of it, Harry. ROSENFELD NODS, takes it, immediately starts to read as we-- CUT TO: WOODWARD AT HIS DESK watching as ROSENFELD gestures again. There is a pause. Then BERNSTEIN appears from behind the pillar and-- CUT TO: ROSENFELD handing BERNSTEIN another sheet of paper. BERSTEIN nods, takes it, walks back toward his desk, disappears behind the pillar again. WOODWARD is starting to steam. Now-- CUT TO: BERNSTEIN AT HIS DESK typing magnificently, his hands rising and falling like Rubinstein's. Behind him is the pillar and for a moment there is nothing--then, very slowly, a figure peers out from behind the pillar--it is WOODWARD. He watches. BERNSTEIN continues to type, then after a moment, rests, thinks, shifts around in his chair and as his glance starts toward the pillar-- CUT TO: THE PILLAR. WOODWARD is gone. CUT TO: BERNSTEIN typing madly away. THE PILLAR. WOODWARD is visible again, eyes very bright... now-- CUT TO: BERNSTEIN finishing typing, his hands moving majestically. WOODWARD comes up behind him, stands looking a second. Then-- WOODWARD We have to talk. BERNSTEIN nods, grabs the papers both that he's been typing and that he's been copying from. And as he rises-- PAN TO: WOODWARD AND BERNSTEIN walking silently out of the newsroom then turning left down a darker corridor, passing bulletin boards and wall lockers and it's all nice and quiet as they amble on, nodding to the few people they pass on their way and after a while they turn right and enter the coffee lounge which is empty; the walls are lined with Norman Rockwell reproductions and various kinds of vending machines are visible, selling coffee or milk or fruit or sandwiches and there are some plastic tables and chairs and the minute they are alone, the silence ends. WOODWARD What the hell were you doing rewriting my story-- BERNSTEIN --I sure couldn't hurt it, could I?-- WOODWARD --it was fine the way it was-- BERNSTEIN --it was bullshit the way it was-- WOODWARD --I have to stand here and listen to the staff correspondent from Virginia?-- BERNSTEIN (a sore subject) --what have you been here, nine months?--I been in this business since I was sixteen-- WOODWARD --and you've had some fucking meteoric rise, that's for sure--by the time you turn forty you might be the head of the Montana bureau-- BERNSTEIN --you only got the job because both you and Bradlee went to Yale-- WOODWARD --Bradlee went to Harvard-- BERNSTEIN --they're all the same, all those Ivy League places--they teach you about striped ties and suddenly you're smart-- WOODWARD --I'm smart enough to know my story was solid-- BERNSTEIN --mine's better-- WOODWARD --no way-- BERNSTEIN (handing them over) --read 'em both and you'll see-- And as WOODWARD glances at the two stories-- CUT TO: BERNSTEIN watching. Now-- CUT TO: WOODWARD. He glances from one story to the other. Then, disconsolately-- WOODWARD ...crap... And he sinks down in a chair. BERNSTEIN Is mine better? WOODWARD nods. WOODWARD (handing the stories back) What is it about my writing that's so rotten? BERNSTEIN (as he exits) Mainly it has to do with your choice of words. And as he goes, leaving WOODWARD just sitting there-- CUT TO: BERSTEIN, re-entering the newsroom, returning to his desk. He starts to insert some papers into his typewriter, hesitates, lights a cigarette. He inhales, as, behind him, WOODWARD briefly is visible going to his desk behind the pillar. Finally BERNSTEIN inserts the paper, starts to type as WOODWARD (V.O.) (from behind the pillar) Carl? BERNSTEIN (turns) Yeah? WOODWARD (pushing his chair briefly into view) Fuck you, Carl. And as he rolls forward again, out of sight-- CUT TO: RICHARD NIXON ON THE TUBE. (It's the June 22 Press Conference.) He talks on about something, it doesn't matter exactly what here, the point is, it should include that strange smile of his that kept appearing when the man should not have been smiling. Hints of pressure maybe, that's all, and once it's established-- PULL BACK TO REVEAL: WOODWARD sitting alone, gloomily staring at the set. We're in the Post Cafeteria, it's the next morning, and the place is pretty much empty. He sips the coffee, it tastes rotten. BERNSTEIN moves up behind him, carrying a cup of coffee of his own. He stands by WOODWARD briefly. BERNSTEIN You heard? (WOODWARD glances up) They put us both on the break-in thing. Simons liked the way we worked together. (WOODWARD nods, BERNSTEIN sits down) Listen, I'm sorry I said your story was bullshit. WOODWARD It's OK; I'm sorry I called you a failure. BERNSTEIN Forget it, the main thing-- (stops) --did you call me a failure? WOODWARD I was sure trying. CUT TO: WOODWARD, BERNSTEIN, AND NIXON. The way it's shot, it's almost as if they're watching each other; NIXON staring out from the TV set, answering questions. WOODWARD and BERNSTEIN sip coffee. We don't know yet--or better, they don't know it yet, but these are our adversaries. CUT TO: WOODWARD AND BERNSTEIN, without NIXON now. They sit at the table. Occasionally, NIXON is audible in the background. WOODWARD All right, what do we know? BERNSTEIN Let me lay a little theory on you-- WOODWARD (cutting him off) --I'm not interested in theory. What do we know? For example, Hunt's disappeared. BERNSTEIN Well, Barker tried to get blueprints of the Miami Convention Center and the air-conditioning system. WOODWARD And McCord was carrying an application for college press credentials for the Democratic convention. (to BERNSTEIN) The Times has got to be full of it-- it can't be crazy Cubans. BERNSTEIN What, though? (points to Nixon) It can't be the Republicans--he'd never allow something as stupid as this, not when he's gonna slaughter McGovern anyway. WOODWARD Right. Nixon didn't get where he got by being dumb-- (stops abruptly) --listen, that was a Watergate question-- CUT TO: NIXON ON THE TUBE. Serious now. NIXON The White House has had no involvement whatever in this particular incident. CUT TO: WOODWARD AND BERNSTEIN staring at the set thinking... CUT TO: WOODWARD AND BERNSTEIN walking toward BERSTEIN'S desk. WOODWARD Hey? BERNSTEIN Hmm. WOODWARD What do you think he meant, this particular incident? Were there others? How would we find out? You know anyone important? BERNSTEIN (sits, shakes his head) I lived here all my life, I got a million contacts, but they're all bus boys and bellhops. The reporter KEN RINGLE at the next desk watches them a moment. Then-- RINGLE What do you need? BERNSTEIN Someone inside the White House would be nice. RINGLE (writes down phone number) Call her. She worked for Colson, if that's any help. As BERNSTEIN grabs for the phone-- CUT TO: A SECRETARIAL POOL IN A LARGE OFFICE. BERNSTEIN is talking off to one side with an attractive girl. GIRL Kenny's crazy, I never worked for Colson, I worked for an assistant. Colson was big on secrets anyway. Even if I had worked for him, I wouldn't have known anything. BERNSTEIN Nothing at all you can remember? SECRETARY (headshake) Sorry. (pause) Now if it was Hunt you were interested in-- BERNSTEIN --Howard Hunt? SECRETARY Sure. Him I liked, he was a very nice person. Secretive too, traveled all over, but a decent man. BERNSTEIN Any idea what he did? SECRETARY Oh, the scuttlebutt for awhile was he was investigating Kennedy-- BERNSTEIN --Teddy Kennedy? SECRETARY Sure. I remember seeing a book about Chappaquiddick on his desk and he was always getting material out of the White House Library and the Library of Congress and-- And as

make

How many times the word 'make' appears in the text?

All the President's Men Script at IMSDb. var _gaq = _gaq || []; _gaq.push(['_setAccount', 'UA-3785444-3']); _gaq.push(['_trackPageview']); (function() { var ga = document.createElement('script'); ga.type = 'text/javascript'; ga.async = true; ga.src = ('https:' == document.location.protocol ? 'https://ssl' : 'http://www') + '.google-analytics.com/ga.js'; var s = document.getElementsByTagName('script')[0]; s.parentNode.insertBefore(ga, s); })(); The Internet Movie Script Database (IMSDb) The web's largest movie script resource! Search IMSDb Alphabetical # A B C D E F G H I J K L M N O P Q R S T U V W X Y Z Genre Action Adventure Animation Comedy Crime Drama Family Fantasy Film-Noir Horror Musical Mystery Romance Sci-Fi Short Thriller War Western Sponsor TV Transcripts Futurama Seinfeld South Park Stargate SG-1 Lost The 4400 International French scripts Movie Software Rip from DVD Rip Blu-Ray Latest Comments Star Wars: Revenge of the Sith10/10 Star Wars: The Force Awakens10/10 Batman Begins9/10 Collateral10/10 Jackie Brown8/10 Movie Chat Message Yell ! ALL SCRIPTS ALL THE PRESIDENT'S MEN - by William Goldman if (window!= top) top.location.href=location.href // --> "ALL THE PRESIDENT'S MEN" by William Goldman Based on the novel "All The President's Men" by Carl Bernstein and Bob Woodward Pre-rehearsal version March, 1975 Start with as few credits as possible. When they're over-- FADE IN ON: A TINY BLACK PIECE OF TAPE. We see it in the center of the large, dimly lit screen. As the tape is pressed around a door-- BEGIN THE BREAK-IN SEQUENCE. It's a major piece of action, running maybe five minutes and it's all as detailed and accurate as we can make it, with as many "if only's" included as possible. ("If only" the tape had been attached up and down instead of around the door, Wills wouldn't have spotted it and alerted the police; "if only" the first police car called had gone to investigate, Baldwin, watching from the Howard Johnson Motor Inn, would have seen their uniforms and radioed Hunt and Liddy in time for them to have gotten to the five burglars and then safely away.) The break-in ends when Leeper arrests the five men. He thought he only had one guy, so when ten hands were raised he was surprised. The hands are all encased in Playtex rubber surgical gloves. HOLD on the hands a moment; then-- GO TO: A DARK APARTMENT. The phone rings. WOODWARD fumbles for the receiver, turns on the bed light. He listens a moment. WOODWARD No, no trouble, Harry, be right down. (he hangs up) Son of a bitch. He lies back. The apartment is one room, a small terrace beyond. Not much of a place. WOODWARD lies still, staring at the ceiling. He blinks, blinks again. HOLD... CUT TO: THE ENORMOUS FIFTH FLOOR OF THE WASHINGTON POST. It looks, early of a Saturday morning, pretty deserted. Those reporters that are around are young, bright, and presently involved in nothing more taxing than drinking coffee and thumbing through the papers. HARRY ROSENFELD surveys the scene from his office doorway as WOODWARD approaches, hangs his coat at his desk, not far from where ROSENFELD is standing. ROSENFELD Where's that cheery face we've come to know and love? WOODWARD You call me in on my day off because some idiots have broken into local Democratic Headquarters--tell me, Harry, why should I be smiling? ROSENFELD As usual, that keen mind of yours has pegged the situation perfectly. (chomps on some Maalox tablets) Except (a) it wasn't local Democratic Headquarters, it was National Democratic Headquarters-- (WOODWARD is surprised-- he hadn't known) --and (b) these weren't just any idiots, these were special idiots, seeing as when they were arrested at 2:30 this morning, they were all wearing business suits and Playtex gloves and were carrying-- (consults a piece of paper) --a walkie-talkie, forty rolls of film, cameras, lock picks, pen-sized tear gas guns, plus various bugging devices. (puts paper down) Not to mention over two thousand dollars, mostly in sequenced hundred dollar bills. WOODWARD Preliminary hearing at Superior Courthouse? ROSENFELD (nods) Two o'clock, work the phones 'til you go. CUT TO: THE CRIMINAL COURTS BUILDING. WOODWARD hurries along, goes inside as we CUT TO: A CORRIDOR INSIDE. WOODWARD comes down it, looks around, sees a door marked "Counsel's Offices" and heads toward it. Now-- CUT TO: A CLERK AT A DESK as WOODWARD comes up. Behind them, two lawyers are clearly angry about something, talking and gesticulating to each other. WOODWARD (to the COUNSEL'S CLERK) Could you give me the names of the lawyers for the men arrested in the Watergate. CLERK These two were appointed-- (indicates the angry men) --only now it turns out the burglars got their own counsel. (he starts to laugh) FIRST ANGRY LAWYER (to CLERK) When you gonna stop thinking it's so funny. SECOND ANGRY LAWYER (To CLERK) We wouldda done a terrific job protecting those guys. (neither lawyer, by the way, is Clarence Darrow) FIRST ANGRY LAWYER You think we're not as good as some hotshot fancy lawyer?-- CUT TO: THE COURTROOM and business is booming. Muggers, pimp, hookers, their families and friends. In the scene that follows, a constant counterpoint is what's going on up at the front as an endless succession of petty criminals caught the previous night, the aforementioned muggers, pimps, and hookers, are shuttled in, given a quick appearance before a JUDGE who sets bond, and then shuttled out. In the audience, one man stands out--DOUGLAS CADDY. He is extremely well-dressed and obviously successful. Beside him sits another smaller man, who is unshaven and squints. WOODWARD moves in, sits alongside CADDY. WOODWARD Mr. Caddy? My name's Bob Woodward, I'm from the Post and I wanted to ask about how you happened to come on this case-- CADDY --I'm not here. WOODWARD (nods) OK. He takes out a small notebook, writes, muttering aloud as he does. WOODWARD Douglas Caddy, the attorney of record, when questioned about his presence in the courtroom, denied he was in the courtroom, "I'm not here," Mr. Caddy said. CADDY (impatiently) Clearly, I am here, but only as an individual, I'm not the attorney of record. (indicating unshaven man) Mr. Rafferty has that position. Whatever you want, you'll have to get from him, I have nothing more to say. And as he gets up, walks off-- CUT TO: THE WATER FOUNTAIN IN THE CORRIDOR. There is a small line. CADDY waits at the end of it. WOODWARD (moving in behind him) Mr. Rafferty was very helpful. Four Cuban-Americans and this other man, James McCord. CADDY Look, I told you inside-- WOODWARD --you have nothing more to say, I understand that. CADDY turns away; WOODWARD goes right on. WOODWARD What I don't understand is how you got here. CADDY I assure you, there's nothing mysterious involved. WOODWARD Probably you're right, but a little while ago, I was talking to a couple of lawyers who'd been assigned to represent the burglars. CADDY So? WOODWARD Well, they never would have been assigned if anyone had known the burglars had arranged for their own counsel. And that could only mean the burglars didn't arrange for their own counsel--they never even made a phone call. (looks at CADDY) So if they didn't ask for you to be here, how did you know to come? Without a word, CADDY turns, leaves the line without getting a drink. Silently, WOODWARD watches. Now-- CUT TO: CADDY seated as before beside RAFFERTY. WOODWARD's voice come from behind him, and as CADDY turns, WOODWARD is seated one row back. WOODWARD Did you know to come because one of the other men involved in the break- in called you? CADDY (turning) There is no reason to assume other people were involved. WOODWARD Your clients were arrested with a walkie-talkie; they didn't need that to talk among themselves. CADDY looks at WOODWARD, turns back. CADDY (turning back) They are not my clients. WOODWARD You're a lawyer and you're here-- CADDY --I met one of the defendants, Mr. Barker, at a social occasion once-- (stops himself) --I have nothing more to say. WOODWARD (leaning forward as CADDY turns away again) A Miami social occasion? (explaining) Mr. Rafferty told me the Cubans were from Miami. CADDY (sighing) Barker's wife called me at three this morning; her husband apparently had told her to call if he hadn't called her by then. WOODWARD It was really nice of you to come, since you'd only met him once. CADDY Are you implying you don't believe me? WOODWARD I have nothing more to say. CADDY You don't mind getting on people's nerves, do you? WOODWARD considers this a moment. Then-- WOODWARD Nope. And on that word-- CUT TO: THE COURTROOM as without warning, it quiets. There is suddenly a tremendous air of expectancy, you can feel it. Now we see why as five men in dark business suits are led in; they've been stripped of belts, ties, and shoelaces. McCord is taller than the others. They stand, facing the JUDGE, backs to the audience. WOODWARD sits watching as the proceedings start, but it's hard to hear. He concentrates as the JUDGE starts speaking. JUDGE Will you please state your professions. The five men do not move or reply. Then, after a long pause, Barker says-- BARKER Anti-Communists. JUDGE Anti-Communists? (perplexed) That, sir, is not your average occupation. WOODWARD starts moving forward now, down an aisle, moving past kids and whores and all the rest, trying to hear what the hell's going on. At the front of the spectator's section is a fence-like wooden barricade about three feet high. As he approaches it-- The JUDGE indicates the bald burglar. JUDGE Your name, please. MCCORD James McCord. JUDGE Will you step forward, sir. (MCCORD obeys) WOODWARD at the bench is leaning forward, trying to hear but it's hard. JUDGE And what is your occupation, Mr. McCord? MCCORD (softly) Security consultant. JUDGE Where? MCCORD (softer) Government. Recently retired. JUDGE Where in government? MCCORD (we can't really make this out) ...Central... Intelligence... Agency... JUDGE (he can't either) Where? MCCORD (clearing his throat) The C.I.A. And on these words, ZOOM TO: CLOSE UP--WOODWARD leaning over the fence practically falling over it in a desperate straining effort to catch what's going on. WOODWARD (stunned) Holy shit. Now from the courtroom-- CUT TO: THOUSANDS AND THOUSANDS OF WASHINGTON POSTS. We are at the end of the press run, the papers are all assembled and being cabled and sent off by machine to various places. As the papers continue to roll past-- A UNION TYPE EMPLOYEE grabs a paper, looks at the front page. The Watergate story, headlined whatever it was headlined, is visible. The byline was by Alfred E. Lewis. The union type Post employee glances at the article-- UNION POST EMPLOYEE (reading half-aloud) "Five men, one of whom said he is a former employee..." (stops reading, gives a shrug) Schmucks. And he turns happily to the sports section-- CUT TO: A CLOSE UP OF HUNDRED DOLLAR BILLS. It's new money and looks as if it's been recently ironed. Someone is going through the cash, making a quick count. During this-- FIRST VOICE (V.O.) Hurry it, huh, Bachinski? BACHINSKI You said I could look at it-- PULL BACK TO REVEAL We're in a room in a police station and two men are present. One, a COP, is nervous as hell and constantly aware of the door. The other, BACHINSKI, is taking hurried notes in a reporter's type notebook as he examines the evidence. COP --I said look, not memorize-- BACHINSKI --almost done, give it a rest, all right... (and he looks at an address book, he stops) CUT TO: THE ADDRESS BOOK. Beside the name "Howard E. Hunt" is the notation "W.House." Now, BACHINSKI hurriedly opens the other book to the letter "H" and there is the same name, "Howard E. Hunt" and beside it, the letters, "W.H." COP (V.O.) What'd you find? BACHINSKI (V.O.) Beats me. These notebooks belonged to Cuban guys? COP (V.O.) S'right. BACHINSKI (V.O.) It's gotta mean either White House or whore house, one or the other. We HOLD on the HUNT name, and the address notations. Then-- CUT TO: WOODWARD'S APARTMENT - NIGHT. The phone rings, waking him. He fumbles for the phone and the light, finally gets them both. WOODWARD Bachinski? (reaches for a notebook) What?--hold it-- (gets it open, starts to write) --OK, go on, go on... CUT TO: A BOX OF MAALOX TABLETS. ROSENFELD is opening them, we're in his office, WOODWARD sits across the desk, holding the notebook we saw him writing in. ROSENFELD ...go on, go on... WOODWARD That's everything Bachinski had, I think it's worth following up. ROSENFELD Don't know; who the hell's Howard Hunt? (crunches tablets) It's probably nothing but check it out. Just go easy, it could be crazy Cubans. HOWARD SIMONS sticks his head in the office. SIMONS Anything? ROSENFELD Woodward's onto a new wrinkle with the break-in thing--absolute page one stuff-- SIMONS --in other words, you got nothing, you're thumbsucking. ROSENFELD (shrugs) Could develop. SIMONS Let me see what you get, but don't jump--The New York Times thinks it's crazy Cubans. He moves on. ROSENFELD turns quickly to WOODWARD. ROSENFELD OK, get on this W.House guy and do a better job then you did on McCord. WOODWARD I did all right on McCord. ROSENFELD Then how come the Associated Press were the ones found out that Mr. McCord is security coordinator for the Committee to Re-elect the President, otherwise known as CREEP? WOODWARD (getting it straight) The head of security for the reelection of a Republican President got caught bugging the national offices of the Democrats? What the hell does that mean? ROSENFELD (hasn't the foggiest) Mr. John Mitchell, the head of CREEP, says it means nothing. (reads) "...This man and the other people involved were not operating on either our behalf or with our consent. These is no place in our campaign or in the electoral process for this type of activity, and we will not forget it or condone it." WOODWARD (getting up) You can't believe that. ROSENFELD As a rough rule of thumb, as far as I can throw Bronco Nagurski, that's how much I trust John Mitchell... Now-- CUT TO: A MOON-FACED MAN RINGING A TRIANGLE. CUT TO: THE NEWSROOM as the triangle sound echoes. HOWARD SIMONS leaves large Managing Editor's office, walks past another office, knocks twice on the glass wall. Inside the Executive Editor's office, BEN BRADLEE sits. As SIMONS knocks, he turns, nods. He appears, for the moment, deep in thought. HARRY ROSENFELD on the opposite end of the room hurries out of his office, following a bunch of editors, all of them heading across the huge room. As he passes WOODWARD's desk ROSENFELD pauses. ROSENFELD What'd you get on W.House? WOODWARD (massaging his neck) Lotsa hints-- ROSENFELD (not happy) I can't sell hints to Simons-- (stops, looks at piece of yellow paper) --you called everyone you know? (WOODWARD makes a nod) Call someone you don't know. WOODWARD continues to rub his neck as ROSENFELD hurries off, all the editors still moving toward the place where the moon- faced man intermittently rings the triangle. WOODWARD picks up the sheet of yellow paper from his desk. Lined, legal-sized, it is crammed with names and numbers and addresses. They are in no neat order; looking at them it's almost like following a path; chicken tracks in ink. WOODWARD mutters "to hell with it" and reaches for a thick book, flips it open. NOW WE SEE THE BOOK: It's the Washington Phone Directory and we're in the W's. As WOODWARD's finger stops, we can see he's looking at the White HOuse entry number. There it is, just like your name and mine. Listed. Now WOODWARD starts to dial, visibly nervous, a fact he tries very hard to keep out of his voice tone. WHITE HOUSE OPERATOR (V.O.) White House. WOODWARD (casually) Howard Hunt, please. Throughout the following call, we stay on WOODWARD's face, hear the other voices. WHITE HOUSE OPERATOR (V.O.) Mr. Hunt does not answer. WOODWARD is delighted he's even there. WOODWARD Thanks, anyway-- And he's about to hang up, when-- WHITE HOUSE OPERATOR (V.O.) I'll bet he's in Mr. Colson's office. Let me connect you. SECRETARY (V.O.) Charles Colson's wire. WOODWARD (a little more excited) Howard Hunt, please. SECRETARY (V.O.) Mr. Hunt isn't here just now. WOODWARD Thanks, anyway. And he's about to hang up again when-- SECRETARY (V.O.) Have you tried Mullen and Company Public Relations? He works at Mullen and Company Public Relations as a writer. The number is 555-1313. I'm sorry I couldn't be more helpful. WOODWARD Listen, forget it. He hangs up, sits there. His hands are a little twitchy... HOLD. Now-- CUT TO: ROSENFELD hurrying (he always hurries) toward his office. WOODWARD, looking for something in his desk throughout this scene, speaks to him. WOODWARD Who's Charles Colson? ROSENFELD (stops dead) I would liken your query to being in Russia half a century ago and asking someone, "I understand who Lenin is and Trotsky I got too, but who's this yokel Stalin?" WOODWARD Who's Colson, Harry? ROSENFELD The most powerful man in America is President Nixon, probably you've heard his name. WOODWARD, unfazed by anything, continues to open drawers, close them, as ROSENFELD rolls on. ROSENFELD The second most powerful man is Robert Haldeman. Just below him are a trio: Mr. Erlichman is Haldeman's friend, and they protect the President from everybody which is why they are referred to as either The German Shepherds or the Berlin Wall. Mr. Mitchell we've already discussed. Mr. Colson is the President's special counsel. WOODWARD (rising) Thanks, Harry. (looks at ROSENFELD) Know anything about Colson? ROSENFELD Just that on his office wall there's a cartoon with a caption reading, "When you've got them by the balls, their hearts and minds will follow." WOODWARD nods, heads back toward the files as we CUT TO: WOODWARD AT HIS DESK dialing the phone. He's got the Colson file spread out now, and we see pictures of the man and articles the Post had done on him. But basically what we see is WOODWARD plugging away on the goddamn phone and you'd think his finger would fall off from all the dialing and you know his voice is tiring as this montage goes on, you can hear it grow raspy. But a lot of what a reporter does he does on the phone, and that's what we're compressing here. The dialing never stops, the voices are continuous. WOODWARD Hello, I'm Bob Woodward of the Washing Post and... (beat) Mullen and Company Public Relations? Could you tell me when you expect Mr. Hunt? (surprised) He is? HUNT (V.O.) Howard Hunt here. WOODWARD Hi, I'm Bob Woodward of the Post and-- HUNT (V.O.) (impatient) --yes, yes, what is it? WOODWARD I was just kind of wondering why your name and phone number were in the address books of two of the men arrested at Watergate? HUNT (V.O.) (blind panic) Good God! And he bangs the phone down sharply-- --more dialing SOUNDS. Now snatches of conversation-- WOODWARD I'm sorry to bother you, Mr. Bennett, but we're doing some investigating of one of your employees, Howard Hunt. BENNETT (V.O.) Well, if you've been doing some investigating then obviously it's no secret to you that Howard was with the C.I.A. WOODWARD (he hadn't known) No secret at all. More dialing. Then-- WOODWARD (tired, voice deeper) Hello, C.I.A. This is R.W. Woodward, of the Washington Post--get me Personnel-- Dialing again. WOODWARD's voice is showing genuine fatigue. WOODWARD Hi, I'm Bob Woodward of the Washington Post--and--what's that?--you've never heard of me?--I can't help that--you don't believe I'm with the Post?-- what do you want me to do, Madam, shout "extra--extra"? There is the SOUND of the phone being slammed down in his ear. Hard. Now-- CUT TO: ROSENFELD AND SIMONS approaching WOODWARD who is working at his desk. He has put in a lot of hours on this and looks it. ROSENFELD Whaddya got, whaddya got? WOODWARD Hunt is Colson's man-- (to SIMONS, explaining) --that's Charles Colson, Nixon's special counsel-- (SIMONS almost says something, decides against it) --they both went to Brown University-- (consulting his notes) --Hunt worked for the C.I.A. till '70, and this is on deep background, the FBI thinks he's involved with the break-in. SIMONS What else have you got? WOODWARD According to White House personnel, Hunt definitely works there as a consultant for Colson. But when I called the White House Press office, they said he hadn't worked there for three months. Then the P.R. guy said the weirdest thing to me. (reading) "I am convinced that neither Mr. Colson nor anyone else at the White House had any knowledge of, or participation in, this deplorable incident at the Democratic National Committee." He looks up at them. SIMONS Isn't that what you'd expect them to say? WOODWARD Absolutely. ROSENFELD So? WOODWARD (he's got something and he knows it) I never asked them about Watergate. I only said what were Hunt's duties at the White House. They volunteered that he was innocent when nobody asked was he guilty. ROSENFELD (to SIMONS) I think we got a White House consultant linked to the bugging. SIMONS (nods) Just be careful how you write it. CUT TO: WOODWARD TYPING LIKE MAD, makes a mistake, corrects it, types on muttering to himself, and-- CUT TO: ROSENFELD IN HIS OFFICE munching a handful of Maalox tablets and-- CUT TO: WOODWARD taking a sheet from his typewriter, hurrying off and-- CUT TO: ROSENFELD taking the sheet from WOODWARD-- WOODWARD Here's the first take-- ROSENFELD nods, shows him out and-- CUT TO: WOODWARD BACK AT HIS MACHINE typing faster then before, makes another mistake, starts to correct it, glances around and-- CUT TO: ROSENFELD IN HIS OFFICE gesturing to somebody but not WOODWARD and-- CUT TO: WOODWARD watching as BERNSTEIN appears in view from behind the wide pillar by WOODWARD's desk, heads toward ROSENFELD's office. WOODWARD shrugs, goes back to his typing, makes a typo immediately, glances over toward ROSENFELD's office, freezes as we-- CUT TO: ROSENFELD handing some papers to BERNSTEIN. They look, from this distance, suspiciously like WOODWARD's story. CUT TO: BERNSTEIN hurrying out of ROSENFELD's office, and-- CUT TO: WOODWARD watching BERNSTEIN until he disappears out of sight behind the pillar. WOODWARD hesitates, finally goes back to his typing, makes another mistake, fixes it, makes still another, his temper is shortly to make itself known-- CUT TO: ROSENFELD as WOODWARD hands him another sheet of paper. WOODWARD This is all of it, Harry. ROSENFELD NODS, takes it, immediately starts to read as we-- CUT TO: WOODWARD AT HIS DESK watching as ROSENFELD gestures again. There is a pause. Then BERNSTEIN appears from behind the pillar and-- CUT TO: ROSENFELD handing BERNSTEIN another sheet of paper. BERSTEIN nods, takes it, walks back toward his desk, disappears behind the pillar again. WOODWARD is starting to steam. Now-- CUT TO: BERNSTEIN AT HIS DESK typing magnificently, his hands rising and falling like Rubinstein's. Behind him is the pillar and for a moment there is nothing--then, very slowly, a figure peers out from behind the pillar--it is WOODWARD. He watches. BERNSTEIN continues to type, then after a moment, rests, thinks, shifts around in his chair and as his glance starts toward the pillar-- CUT TO: THE PILLAR. WOODWARD is gone. CUT TO: BERNSTEIN typing madly away. THE PILLAR. WOODWARD is visible again, eyes very bright... now-- CUT TO: BERNSTEIN finishing typing, his hands moving majestically. WOODWARD comes up behind him, stands looking a second. Then-- WOODWARD We have to talk. BERNSTEIN nods, grabs the papers both that he's been typing and that he's been copying from. And as he rises-- PAN TO: WOODWARD AND BERNSTEIN walking silently out of the newsroom then turning left down a darker corridor, passing bulletin boards and wall lockers and it's all nice and quiet as they amble on, nodding to the few people they pass on their way and after a while they turn right and enter the coffee lounge which is empty; the walls are lined with Norman Rockwell reproductions and various kinds of vending machines are visible, selling coffee or milk or fruit or sandwiches and there are some plastic tables and chairs and the minute they are alone, the silence ends. WOODWARD What the hell were you doing rewriting my story-- BERNSTEIN --I sure couldn't hurt it, could I?-- WOODWARD --it was fine the way it was-- BERNSTEIN --it was bullshit the way it was-- WOODWARD --I have to stand here and listen to the staff correspondent from Virginia?-- BERNSTEIN (a sore subject) --what have you been here, nine months?--I been in this business since I was sixteen-- WOODWARD --and you've had some fucking meteoric rise, that's for sure--by the time you turn forty you might be the head of the Montana bureau-- BERNSTEIN --you only got the job because both you and Bradlee went to Yale-- WOODWARD --Bradlee went to Harvard-- BERNSTEIN --they're all the same, all those Ivy League places--they teach you about striped ties and suddenly you're smart-- WOODWARD --I'm smart enough to know my story was solid-- BERNSTEIN --mine's better-- WOODWARD --no way-- BERNSTEIN (handing them over) --read 'em both and you'll see-- And as WOODWARD glances at the two stories-- CUT TO: BERNSTEIN watching. Now-- CUT TO: WOODWARD. He glances from one story to the other. Then, disconsolately-- WOODWARD ...crap... And he sinks down in a chair. BERNSTEIN Is mine better? WOODWARD nods. WOODWARD (handing the stories back) What is it about my writing that's so rotten? BERNSTEIN (as he exits) Mainly it has to do with your choice of words. And as he goes, leaving WOODWARD just sitting there-- CUT TO: BERSTEIN, re-entering the newsroom, returning to his desk. He starts to insert some papers into his typewriter, hesitates, lights a cigarette. He inhales, as, behind him, WOODWARD briefly is visible going to his desk behind the pillar. Finally BERNSTEIN inserts the paper, starts to type as WOODWARD (V.O.) (from behind the pillar) Carl? BERNSTEIN (turns) Yeah? WOODWARD (pushing his chair briefly into view) Fuck you, Carl. And as he rolls forward again, out of sight-- CUT TO: RICHARD NIXON ON THE TUBE. (It's the June 22 Press Conference.) He talks on about something, it doesn't matter exactly what here, the point is, it should include that strange smile of his that kept appearing when the man should not have been smiling. Hints of pressure maybe, that's all, and once it's established-- PULL BACK TO REVEAL: WOODWARD sitting alone, gloomily staring at the set. We're in the Post Cafeteria, it's the next morning, and the place is pretty much empty. He sips the coffee, it tastes rotten. BERNSTEIN moves up behind him, carrying a cup of coffee of his own. He stands by WOODWARD briefly. BERNSTEIN You heard? (WOODWARD glances up) They put us both on the break-in thing. Simons liked the way we worked together. (WOODWARD nods, BERNSTEIN sits down) Listen, I'm sorry I said your story was bullshit. WOODWARD It's OK; I'm sorry I called you a failure. BERNSTEIN Forget it, the main thing-- (stops) --did you call me a failure? WOODWARD I was sure trying. CUT TO: WOODWARD, BERNSTEIN, AND NIXON. The way it's shot, it's almost as if they're watching each other; NIXON staring out from the TV set, answering questions. WOODWARD and BERNSTEIN sip coffee. We don't know yet--or better, they don't know it yet, but these are our adversaries. CUT TO: WOODWARD AND BERNSTEIN, without NIXON now. They sit at the table. Occasionally, NIXON is audible in the background. WOODWARD All right, what do we know? BERNSTEIN Let me lay a little theory on you-- WOODWARD (cutting him off) --I'm not interested in theory. What do we know? For example, Hunt's disappeared. BERNSTEIN Well, Barker tried to get blueprints of the Miami Convention Center and the air-conditioning system. WOODWARD And McCord was carrying an application for college press credentials for the Democratic convention. (to BERNSTEIN) The Times has got to be full of it-- it can't be crazy Cubans. BERNSTEIN What, though? (points to Nixon) It can't be the Republicans--he'd never allow something as stupid as this, not when he's gonna slaughter McGovern anyway. WOODWARD Right. Nixon didn't get where he got by being dumb-- (stops abruptly) --listen, that was a Watergate question-- CUT TO: NIXON ON THE TUBE. Serious now. NIXON The White House has had no involvement whatever in this particular incident. CUT TO: WOODWARD AND BERNSTEIN staring at the set thinking... CUT TO: WOODWARD AND BERNSTEIN walking toward BERSTEIN'S desk. WOODWARD Hey? BERNSTEIN Hmm. WOODWARD What do you think he meant, this particular incident? Were there others? How would we find out? You know anyone important? BERNSTEIN (sits, shakes his head) I lived here all my life, I got a million contacts, but they're all bus boys and bellhops. The reporter KEN RINGLE at the next desk watches them a moment. Then-- RINGLE What do you need? BERNSTEIN Someone inside the White House would be nice. RINGLE (writes down phone number) Call her. She worked for Colson, if that's any help. As BERNSTEIN grabs for the phone-- CUT TO: A SECRETARIAL POOL IN A LARGE OFFICE. BERNSTEIN is talking off to one side with an attractive girl. GIRL Kenny's crazy, I never worked for Colson, I worked for an assistant. Colson was big on secrets anyway. Even if I had worked for him, I wouldn't have known anything. BERNSTEIN Nothing at all you can remember? SECRETARY (headshake) Sorry. (pause) Now if it was Hunt you were interested in-- BERNSTEIN --Howard Hunt? SECRETARY Sure. Him I liked, he was a very nice person. Secretive too, traveled all over, but a decent man. BERNSTEIN Any idea what he did? SECRETARY Oh, the scuttlebutt for awhile was he was investigating Kennedy-- BERNSTEIN --Teddy Kennedy? SECRETARY Sure. I remember seeing a book about Chappaquiddick on his desk and he was always getting material out of the White House Library and the Library of Congress and-- And as

hunted

How many times the word 'hunted' appears in the text?

All the President's Men Script at IMSDb. var _gaq = _gaq || []; _gaq.push(['_setAccount', 'UA-3785444-3']); _gaq.push(['_trackPageview']); (function() { var ga = document.createElement('script'); ga.type = 'text/javascript'; ga.async = true; ga.src = ('https:' == document.location.protocol ? 'https://ssl' : 'http://www') + '.google-analytics.com/ga.js'; var s = document.getElementsByTagName('script')[0]; s.parentNode.insertBefore(ga, s); })(); The Internet Movie Script Database (IMSDb) The web's largest movie script resource! Search IMSDb Alphabetical # A B C D E F G H I J K L M N O P Q R S T U V W X Y Z Genre Action Adventure Animation Comedy Crime Drama Family Fantasy Film-Noir Horror Musical Mystery Romance Sci-Fi Short Thriller War Western Sponsor TV Transcripts Futurama Seinfeld South Park Stargate SG-1 Lost The 4400 International French scripts Movie Software Rip from DVD Rip Blu-Ray Latest Comments Star Wars: Revenge of the Sith10/10 Star Wars: The Force Awakens10/10 Batman Begins9/10 Collateral10/10 Jackie Brown8/10 Movie Chat Message Yell ! ALL SCRIPTS ALL THE PRESIDENT'S MEN - by William Goldman if (window!= top) top.location.href=location.href // --> "ALL THE PRESIDENT'S MEN" by William Goldman Based on the novel "All The President's Men" by Carl Bernstein and Bob Woodward Pre-rehearsal version March, 1975 Start with as few credits as possible. When they're over-- FADE IN ON: A TINY BLACK PIECE OF TAPE. We see it in the center of the large, dimly lit screen. As the tape is pressed around a door-- BEGIN THE BREAK-IN SEQUENCE. It's a major piece of action, running maybe five minutes and it's all as detailed and accurate as we can make it, with as many "if only's" included as possible. ("If only" the tape had been attached up and down instead of around the door, Wills wouldn't have spotted it and alerted the police; "if only" the first police car called had gone to investigate, Baldwin, watching from the Howard Johnson Motor Inn, would have seen their uniforms and radioed Hunt and Liddy in time for them to have gotten to the five burglars and then safely away.) The break-in ends when Leeper arrests the five men. He thought he only had one guy, so when ten hands were raised he was surprised. The hands are all encased in Playtex rubber surgical gloves. HOLD on the hands a moment; then-- GO TO: A DARK APARTMENT. The phone rings. WOODWARD fumbles for the receiver, turns on the bed light. He listens a moment. WOODWARD No, no trouble, Harry, be right down. (he hangs up) Son of a bitch. He lies back. The apartment is one room, a small terrace beyond. Not much of a place. WOODWARD lies still, staring at the ceiling. He blinks, blinks again. HOLD... CUT TO: THE ENORMOUS FIFTH FLOOR OF THE WASHINGTON POST. It looks, early of a Saturday morning, pretty deserted. Those reporters that are around are young, bright, and presently involved in nothing more taxing than drinking coffee and thumbing through the papers. HARRY ROSENFELD surveys the scene from his office doorway as WOODWARD approaches, hangs his coat at his desk, not far from where ROSENFELD is standing. ROSENFELD Where's that cheery face we've come to know and love? WOODWARD You call me in on my day off because some idiots have broken into local Democratic Headquarters--tell me, Harry, why should I be smiling? ROSENFELD As usual, that keen mind of yours has pegged the situation perfectly. (chomps on some Maalox tablets) Except (a) it wasn't local Democratic Headquarters, it was National Democratic Headquarters-- (WOODWARD is surprised-- he hadn't known) --and (b) these weren't just any idiots, these were special idiots, seeing as when they were arrested at 2:30 this morning, they were all wearing business suits and Playtex gloves and were carrying-- (consults a piece of paper) --a walkie-talkie, forty rolls of film, cameras, lock picks, pen-sized tear gas guns, plus various bugging devices. (puts paper down) Not to mention over two thousand dollars, mostly in sequenced hundred dollar bills. WOODWARD Preliminary hearing at Superior Courthouse? ROSENFELD (nods) Two o'clock, work the phones 'til you go. CUT TO: THE CRIMINAL COURTS BUILDING. WOODWARD hurries along, goes inside as we CUT TO: A CORRIDOR INSIDE. WOODWARD comes down it, looks around, sees a door marked "Counsel's Offices" and heads toward it. Now-- CUT TO: A CLERK AT A DESK as WOODWARD comes up. Behind them, two lawyers are clearly angry about something, talking and gesticulating to each other. WOODWARD (to the COUNSEL'S CLERK) Could you give me the names of the lawyers for the men arrested in the Watergate. CLERK These two were appointed-- (indicates the angry men) --only now it turns out the burglars got their own counsel. (he starts to laugh) FIRST ANGRY LAWYER (to CLERK) When you gonna stop thinking it's so funny. SECOND ANGRY LAWYER (To CLERK) We wouldda done a terrific job protecting those guys. (neither lawyer, by the way, is Clarence Darrow) FIRST ANGRY LAWYER You think we're not as good as some hotshot fancy lawyer?-- CUT TO: THE COURTROOM and business is booming. Muggers, pimp, hookers, their families and friends. In the scene that follows, a constant counterpoint is what's going on up at the front as an endless succession of petty criminals caught the previous night, the aforementioned muggers, pimps, and hookers, are shuttled in, given a quick appearance before a JUDGE who sets bond, and then shuttled out. In the audience, one man stands out--DOUGLAS CADDY. He is extremely well-dressed and obviously successful. Beside him sits another smaller man, who is unshaven and squints. WOODWARD moves in, sits alongside CADDY. WOODWARD Mr. Caddy? My name's Bob Woodward, I'm from the Post and I wanted to ask about how you happened to come on this case-- CADDY --I'm not here. WOODWARD (nods) OK. He takes out a small notebook, writes, muttering aloud as he does. WOODWARD Douglas Caddy, the attorney of record, when questioned about his presence in the courtroom, denied he was in the courtroom, "I'm not here," Mr. Caddy said. CADDY (impatiently) Clearly, I am here, but only as an individual, I'm not the attorney of record. (indicating unshaven man) Mr. Rafferty has that position. Whatever you want, you'll have to get from him, I have nothing more to say. And as he gets up, walks off-- CUT TO: THE WATER FOUNTAIN IN THE CORRIDOR. There is a small line. CADDY waits at the end of it. WOODWARD (moving in behind him) Mr. Rafferty was very helpful. Four Cuban-Americans and this other man, James McCord. CADDY Look, I told you inside-- WOODWARD --you have nothing more to say, I understand that. CADDY turns away; WOODWARD goes right on. WOODWARD What I don't understand is how you got here. CADDY I assure you, there's nothing mysterious involved. WOODWARD Probably you're right, but a little while ago, I was talking to a couple of lawyers who'd been assigned to represent the burglars. CADDY So? WOODWARD Well, they never would have been assigned if anyone had known the burglars had arranged for their own counsel. And that could only mean the burglars didn't arrange for their own counsel--they never even made a phone call. (looks at CADDY) So if they didn't ask for you to be here, how did you know to come? Without a word, CADDY turns, leaves the line without getting a drink. Silently, WOODWARD watches. Now-- CUT TO: CADDY seated as before beside RAFFERTY. WOODWARD's voice come from behind him, and as CADDY turns, WOODWARD is seated one row back. WOODWARD Did you know to come because one of the other men involved in the break- in called you? CADDY (turning) There is no reason to assume other people were involved. WOODWARD Your clients were arrested with a walkie-talkie; they didn't need that to talk among themselves. CADDY looks at WOODWARD, turns back. CADDY (turning back) They are not my clients. WOODWARD You're a lawyer and you're here-- CADDY --I met one of the defendants, Mr. Barker, at a social occasion once-- (stops himself) --I have nothing more to say. WOODWARD (leaning forward as CADDY turns away again) A Miami social occasion? (explaining) Mr. Rafferty told me the Cubans were from Miami. CADDY (sighing) Barker's wife called me at three this morning; her husband apparently had told her to call if he hadn't called her by then. WOODWARD It was really nice of you to come, since you'd only met him once. CADDY Are you implying you don't believe me? WOODWARD I have nothing more to say. CADDY You don't mind getting on people's nerves, do you? WOODWARD considers this a moment. Then-- WOODWARD Nope. And on that word-- CUT TO: THE COURTROOM as without warning, it quiets. There is suddenly a tremendous air of expectancy, you can feel it. Now we see why as five men in dark business suits are led in; they've been stripped of belts, ties, and shoelaces. McCord is taller than the others. They stand, facing the JUDGE, backs to the audience. WOODWARD sits watching as the proceedings start, but it's hard to hear. He concentrates as the JUDGE starts speaking. JUDGE Will you please state your professions. The five men do not move or reply. Then, after a long pause, Barker says-- BARKER Anti-Communists. JUDGE Anti-Communists? (perplexed) That, sir, is not your average occupation. WOODWARD starts moving forward now, down an aisle, moving past kids and whores and all the rest, trying to hear what the hell's going on. At the front of the spectator's section is a fence-like wooden barricade about three feet high. As he approaches it-- The JUDGE indicates the bald burglar. JUDGE Your name, please. MCCORD James McCord. JUDGE Will you step forward, sir. (MCCORD obeys) WOODWARD at the bench is leaning forward, trying to hear but it's hard. JUDGE And what is your occupation, Mr. McCord? MCCORD (softly) Security consultant. JUDGE Where? MCCORD (softer) Government. Recently retired. JUDGE Where in government? MCCORD (we can't really make this out) ...Central... Intelligence... Agency... JUDGE (he can't either) Where? MCCORD (clearing his throat) The C.I.A. And on these words, ZOOM TO: CLOSE UP--WOODWARD leaning over the fence practically falling over it in a desperate straining effort to catch what's going on. WOODWARD (stunned) Holy shit. Now from the courtroom-- CUT TO: THOUSANDS AND THOUSANDS OF WASHINGTON POSTS. We are at the end of the press run, the papers are all assembled and being cabled and sent off by machine to various places. As the papers continue to roll past-- A UNION TYPE EMPLOYEE grabs a paper, looks at the front page. The Watergate story, headlined whatever it was headlined, is visible. The byline was by Alfred E. Lewis. The union type Post employee glances at the article-- UNION POST EMPLOYEE (reading half-aloud) "Five men, one of whom said he is a former employee..." (stops reading, gives a shrug) Schmucks. And he turns happily to the sports section-- CUT TO: A CLOSE UP OF HUNDRED DOLLAR BILLS. It's new money and looks as if it's been recently ironed. Someone is going through the cash, making a quick count. During this-- FIRST VOICE (V.O.) Hurry it, huh, Bachinski? BACHINSKI You said I could look at it-- PULL BACK TO REVEAL We're in a room in a police station and two men are present. One, a COP, is nervous as hell and constantly aware of the door. The other, BACHINSKI, is taking hurried notes in a reporter's type notebook as he examines the evidence. COP --I said look, not memorize-- BACHINSKI --almost done, give it a rest, all right... (and he looks at an address book, he stops) CUT TO: THE ADDRESS BOOK. Beside the name "Howard E. Hunt" is the notation "W.House." Now, BACHINSKI hurriedly opens the other book to the letter "H" and there is the same name, "Howard E. Hunt" and beside it, the letters, "W.H." COP (V.O.) What'd you find? BACHINSKI (V.O.) Beats me. These notebooks belonged to Cuban guys? COP (V.O.) S'right. BACHINSKI (V.O.) It's gotta mean either White House or whore house, one or the other. We HOLD on the HUNT name, and the address notations. Then-- CUT TO: WOODWARD'S APARTMENT - NIGHT. The phone rings, waking him. He fumbles for the phone and the light, finally gets them both. WOODWARD Bachinski? (reaches for a notebook) What?--hold it-- (gets it open, starts to write) --OK, go on, go on... CUT TO: A BOX OF MAALOX TABLETS. ROSENFELD is opening them, we're in his office, WOODWARD sits across the desk, holding the notebook we saw him writing in. ROSENFELD ...go on, go on... WOODWARD That's everything Bachinski had, I think it's worth following up. ROSENFELD Don't know; who the hell's Howard Hunt? (crunches tablets) It's probably nothing but check it out. Just go easy, it could be crazy Cubans. HOWARD SIMONS sticks his head in the office. SIMONS Anything? ROSENFELD Woodward's onto a new wrinkle with the break-in thing--absolute page one stuff-- SIMONS --in other words, you got nothing, you're thumbsucking. ROSENFELD (shrugs) Could develop. SIMONS Let me see what you get, but don't jump--The New York Times thinks it's crazy Cubans. He moves on. ROSENFELD turns quickly to WOODWARD. ROSENFELD OK, get on this W.House guy and do a better job then you did on McCord. WOODWARD I did all right on McCord. ROSENFELD Then how come the Associated Press were the ones found out that Mr. McCord is security coordinator for the Committee to Re-elect the President, otherwise known as CREEP? WOODWARD (getting it straight) The head of security for the reelection of a Republican President got caught bugging the national offices of the Democrats? What the hell does that mean? ROSENFELD (hasn't the foggiest) Mr. John Mitchell, the head of CREEP, says it means nothing. (reads) "...This man and the other people involved were not operating on either our behalf or with our consent. These is no place in our campaign or in the electoral process for this type of activity, and we will not forget it or condone it." WOODWARD (getting up) You can't believe that. ROSENFELD As a rough rule of thumb, as far as I can throw Bronco Nagurski, that's how much I trust John Mitchell... Now-- CUT TO: A MOON-FACED MAN RINGING A TRIANGLE. CUT TO: THE NEWSROOM as the triangle sound echoes. HOWARD SIMONS leaves large Managing Editor's office, walks past another office, knocks twice on the glass wall. Inside the Executive Editor's office, BEN BRADLEE sits. As SIMONS knocks, he turns, nods. He appears, for the moment, deep in thought. HARRY ROSENFELD on the opposite end of the room hurries out of his office, following a bunch of editors, all of them heading across the huge room. As he passes WOODWARD's desk ROSENFELD pauses. ROSENFELD What'd you get on W.House? WOODWARD (massaging his neck) Lotsa hints-- ROSENFELD (not happy) I can't sell hints to Simons-- (stops, looks at piece of yellow paper) --you called everyone you know? (WOODWARD makes a nod) Call someone you don't know. WOODWARD continues to rub his neck as ROSENFELD hurries off, all the editors still moving toward the place where the moon- faced man intermittently rings the triangle. WOODWARD picks up the sheet of yellow paper from his desk. Lined, legal-sized, it is crammed with names and numbers and addresses. They are in no neat order; looking at them it's almost like following a path; chicken tracks in ink. WOODWARD mutters "to hell with it" and reaches for a thick book, flips it open. NOW WE SEE THE BOOK: It's the Washington Phone Directory and we're in the W's. As WOODWARD's finger stops, we can see he's looking at the White HOuse entry number. There it is, just like your name and mine. Listed. Now WOODWARD starts to dial, visibly nervous, a fact he tries very hard to keep out of his voice tone. WHITE HOUSE OPERATOR (V.O.) White House. WOODWARD (casually) Howard Hunt, please. Throughout the following call, we stay on WOODWARD's face, hear the other voices. WHITE HOUSE OPERATOR (V.O.) Mr. Hunt does not answer. WOODWARD is delighted he's even there. WOODWARD Thanks, anyway-- And he's about to hang up, when-- WHITE HOUSE OPERATOR (V.O.) I'll bet he's in Mr. Colson's office. Let me connect you. SECRETARY (V.O.) Charles Colson's wire. WOODWARD (a little more excited) Howard Hunt, please. SECRETARY (V.O.) Mr. Hunt isn't here just now. WOODWARD Thanks, anyway. And he's about to hang up again when-- SECRETARY (V.O.) Have you tried Mullen and Company Public Relations? He works at Mullen and Company Public Relations as a writer. The number is 555-1313. I'm sorry I couldn't be more helpful. WOODWARD Listen, forget it. He hangs up, sits there. His hands are a little twitchy... HOLD. Now-- CUT TO: ROSENFELD hurrying (he always hurries) toward his office. WOODWARD, looking for something in his desk throughout this scene, speaks to him. WOODWARD Who's Charles Colson? ROSENFELD (stops dead) I would liken your query to being in Russia half a century ago and asking someone, "I understand who Lenin is and Trotsky I got too, but who's this yokel Stalin?" WOODWARD Who's Colson, Harry? ROSENFELD The most powerful man in America is President Nixon, probably you've heard his name. WOODWARD, unfazed by anything, continues to open drawers, close them, as ROSENFELD rolls on. ROSENFELD The second most powerful man is Robert Haldeman. Just below him are a trio: Mr. Erlichman is Haldeman's friend, and they protect the President from everybody which is why they are referred to as either The German Shepherds or the Berlin Wall. Mr. Mitchell we've already discussed. Mr. Colson is the President's special counsel. WOODWARD (rising) Thanks, Harry. (looks at ROSENFELD) Know anything about Colson? ROSENFELD Just that on his office wall there's a cartoon with a caption reading, "When you've got them by the balls, their hearts and minds will follow." WOODWARD nods, heads back toward the files as we CUT TO: WOODWARD AT HIS DESK dialing the phone. He's got the Colson file spread out now, and we see pictures of the man and articles the Post had done on him. But basically what we see is WOODWARD plugging away on the goddamn phone and you'd think his finger would fall off from all the dialing and you know his voice is tiring as this montage goes on, you can hear it grow raspy. But a lot of what a reporter does he does on the phone, and that's what we're compressing here. The dialing never stops, the voices are continuous. WOODWARD Hello, I'm Bob Woodward of the Washing Post and... (beat) Mullen and Company Public Relations? Could you tell me when you expect Mr. Hunt? (surprised) He is? HUNT (V.O.) Howard Hunt here. WOODWARD Hi, I'm Bob Woodward of the Post and-- HUNT (V.O.) (impatient) --yes, yes, what is it? WOODWARD I was just kind of wondering why your name and phone number were in the address books of two of the men arrested at Watergate? HUNT (V.O.) (blind panic) Good God! And he bangs the phone down sharply-- --more dialing SOUNDS. Now snatches of conversation-- WOODWARD I'm sorry to bother you, Mr. Bennett, but we're doing some investigating of one of your employees, Howard Hunt. BENNETT (V.O.) Well, if you've been doing some investigating then obviously it's no secret to you that Howard was with the C.I.A. WOODWARD (he hadn't known) No secret at all. More dialing. Then-- WOODWARD (tired, voice deeper) Hello, C.I.A. This is R.W. Woodward, of the Washington Post--get me Personnel-- Dialing again. WOODWARD's voice is showing genuine fatigue. WOODWARD Hi, I'm Bob Woodward of the Washington Post--and--what's that?--you've never heard of me?--I can't help that--you don't believe I'm with the Post?-- what do you want me to do, Madam, shout "extra--extra"? There is the SOUND of the phone being slammed down in his ear. Hard. Now-- CUT TO: ROSENFELD AND SIMONS approaching WOODWARD who is working at his desk. He has put in a lot of hours on this and looks it. ROSENFELD Whaddya got, whaddya got? WOODWARD Hunt is Colson's man-- (to SIMONS, explaining) --that's Charles Colson, Nixon's special counsel-- (SIMONS almost says something, decides against it) --they both went to Brown University-- (consulting his notes) --Hunt worked for the C.I.A. till '70, and this is on deep background, the FBI thinks he's involved with the break-in. SIMONS What else have you got? WOODWARD According to White House personnel, Hunt definitely works there as a consultant for Colson. But when I called the White House Press office, they said he hadn't worked there for three months. Then the P.R. guy said the weirdest thing to me. (reading) "I am convinced that neither Mr. Colson nor anyone else at the White House had any knowledge of, or participation in, this deplorable incident at the Democratic National Committee." He looks up at them. SIMONS Isn't that what you'd expect them to say? WOODWARD Absolutely. ROSENFELD So? WOODWARD (he's got something and he knows it) I never asked them about Watergate. I only said what were Hunt's duties at the White House. They volunteered that he was innocent when nobody asked was he guilty. ROSENFELD (to SIMONS) I think we got a White House consultant linked to the bugging. SIMONS (nods) Just be careful how you write it. CUT TO: WOODWARD TYPING LIKE MAD, makes a mistake, corrects it, types on muttering to himself, and-- CUT TO: ROSENFELD IN HIS OFFICE munching a handful of Maalox tablets and-- CUT TO: WOODWARD taking a sheet from his typewriter, hurrying off and-- CUT TO: ROSENFELD taking the sheet from WOODWARD-- WOODWARD Here's the first take-- ROSENFELD nods, shows him out and-- CUT TO: WOODWARD BACK AT HIS MACHINE typing faster then before, makes another mistake, starts to correct it, glances around and-- CUT TO: ROSENFELD IN HIS OFFICE gesturing to somebody but not WOODWARD and-- CUT TO: WOODWARD watching as BERNSTEIN appears in view from behind the wide pillar by WOODWARD's desk, heads toward ROSENFELD's office. WOODWARD shrugs, goes back to his typing, makes a typo immediately, glances over toward ROSENFELD's office, freezes as we-- CUT TO: ROSENFELD handing some papers to BERNSTEIN. They look, from this distance, suspiciously like WOODWARD's story. CUT TO: BERNSTEIN hurrying out of ROSENFELD's office, and-- CUT TO: WOODWARD watching BERNSTEIN until he disappears out of sight behind the pillar. WOODWARD hesitates, finally goes back to his typing, makes another mistake, fixes it, makes still another, his temper is shortly to make itself known-- CUT TO: ROSENFELD as WOODWARD hands him another sheet of paper. WOODWARD This is all of it, Harry. ROSENFELD NODS, takes it, immediately starts to read as we-- CUT TO: WOODWARD AT HIS DESK watching as ROSENFELD gestures again. There is a pause. Then BERNSTEIN appears from behind the pillar and-- CUT TO: ROSENFELD handing BERNSTEIN another sheet of paper. BERSTEIN nods, takes it, walks back toward his desk, disappears behind the pillar again. WOODWARD is starting to steam. Now-- CUT TO: BERNSTEIN AT HIS DESK typing magnificently, his hands rising and falling like Rubinstein's. Behind him is the pillar and for a moment there is nothing--then, very slowly, a figure peers out from behind the pillar--it is WOODWARD. He watches. BERNSTEIN continues to type, then after a moment, rests, thinks, shifts around in his chair and as his glance starts toward the pillar-- CUT TO: THE PILLAR. WOODWARD is gone. CUT TO: BERNSTEIN typing madly away. THE PILLAR. WOODWARD is visible again, eyes very bright... now-- CUT TO: BERNSTEIN finishing typing, his hands moving majestically. WOODWARD comes up behind him, stands looking a second. Then-- WOODWARD We have to talk. BERNSTEIN nods, grabs the papers both that he's been typing and that he's been copying from. And as he rises-- PAN TO: WOODWARD AND BERNSTEIN walking silently out of the newsroom then turning left down a darker corridor, passing bulletin boards and wall lockers and it's all nice and quiet as they amble on, nodding to the few people they pass on their way and after a while they turn right and enter the coffee lounge which is empty; the walls are lined with Norman Rockwell reproductions and various kinds of vending machines are visible, selling coffee or milk or fruit or sandwiches and there are some plastic tables and chairs and the minute they are alone, the silence ends. WOODWARD What the hell were you doing rewriting my story-- BERNSTEIN --I sure couldn't hurt it, could I?-- WOODWARD --it was fine the way it was-- BERNSTEIN --it was bullshit the way it was-- WOODWARD --I have to stand here and listen to the staff correspondent from Virginia?-- BERNSTEIN (a sore subject) --what have you been here, nine months?--I been in this business since I was sixteen-- WOODWARD --and you've had some fucking meteoric rise, that's for sure--by the time you turn forty you might be the head of the Montana bureau-- BERNSTEIN --you only got the job because both you and Bradlee went to Yale-- WOODWARD --Bradlee went to Harvard-- BERNSTEIN --they're all the same, all those Ivy League places--they teach you about striped ties and suddenly you're smart-- WOODWARD --I'm smart enough to know my story was solid-- BERNSTEIN --mine's better-- WOODWARD --no way-- BERNSTEIN (handing them over) --read 'em both and you'll see-- And as WOODWARD glances at the two stories-- CUT TO: BERNSTEIN watching. Now-- CUT TO: WOODWARD. He glances from one story to the other. Then, disconsolately-- WOODWARD ...crap... And he sinks down in a chair. BERNSTEIN Is mine better? WOODWARD nods. WOODWARD (handing the stories back) What is it about my writing that's so rotten? BERNSTEIN (as he exits) Mainly it has to do with your choice of words. And as he goes, leaving WOODWARD just sitting there-- CUT TO: BERSTEIN, re-entering the newsroom, returning to his desk. He starts to insert some papers into his typewriter, hesitates, lights a cigarette. He inhales, as, behind him, WOODWARD briefly is visible going to his desk behind the pillar. Finally BERNSTEIN inserts the paper, starts to type as WOODWARD (V.O.) (from behind the pillar) Carl? BERNSTEIN (turns) Yeah? WOODWARD (pushing his chair briefly into view) Fuck you, Carl. And as he rolls forward again, out of sight-- CUT TO: RICHARD NIXON ON THE TUBE. (It's the June 22 Press Conference.) He talks on about something, it doesn't matter exactly what here, the point is, it should include that strange smile of his that kept appearing when the man should not have been smiling. Hints of pressure maybe, that's all, and once it's established-- PULL BACK TO REVEAL: WOODWARD sitting alone, gloomily staring at the set. We're in the Post Cafeteria, it's the next morning, and the place is pretty much empty. He sips the coffee, it tastes rotten. BERNSTEIN moves up behind him, carrying a cup of coffee of his own. He stands by WOODWARD briefly. BERNSTEIN You heard? (WOODWARD glances up) They put us both on the break-in thing. Simons liked the way we worked together. (WOODWARD nods, BERNSTEIN sits down) Listen, I'm sorry I said your story was bullshit. WOODWARD It's OK; I'm sorry I called you a failure. BERNSTEIN Forget it, the main thing-- (stops) --did you call me a failure? WOODWARD I was sure trying. CUT TO: WOODWARD, BERNSTEIN, AND NIXON. The way it's shot, it's almost as if they're watching each other; NIXON staring out from the TV set, answering questions. WOODWARD and BERNSTEIN sip coffee. We don't know yet--or better, they don't know it yet, but these are our adversaries. CUT TO: WOODWARD AND BERNSTEIN, without NIXON now. They sit at the table. Occasionally, NIXON is audible in the background. WOODWARD All right, what do we know? BERNSTEIN Let me lay a little theory on you-- WOODWARD (cutting him off) --I'm not interested in theory. What do we know? For example, Hunt's disappeared. BERNSTEIN Well, Barker tried to get blueprints of the Miami Convention Center and the air-conditioning system. WOODWARD And McCord was carrying an application for college press credentials for the Democratic convention. (to BERNSTEIN) The Times has got to be full of it-- it can't be crazy Cubans. BERNSTEIN What, though? (points to Nixon) It can't be the Republicans--he'd never allow something as stupid as this, not when he's gonna slaughter McGovern anyway. WOODWARD Right. Nixon didn't get where he got by being dumb-- (stops abruptly) --listen, that was a Watergate question-- CUT TO: NIXON ON THE TUBE. Serious now. NIXON The White House has had no involvement whatever in this particular incident. CUT TO: WOODWARD AND BERNSTEIN staring at the set thinking... CUT TO: WOODWARD AND BERNSTEIN walking toward BERSTEIN'S desk. WOODWARD Hey? BERNSTEIN Hmm. WOODWARD What do you think he meant, this particular incident? Were there others? How would we find out? You know anyone important? BERNSTEIN (sits, shakes his head) I lived here all my life, I got a million contacts, but they're all bus boys and bellhops. The reporter KEN RINGLE at the next desk watches them a moment. Then-- RINGLE What do you need? BERNSTEIN Someone inside the White House would be nice. RINGLE (writes down phone number) Call her. She worked for Colson, if that's any help. As BERNSTEIN grabs for the phone-- CUT TO: A SECRETARIAL POOL IN A LARGE OFFICE. BERNSTEIN is talking off to one side with an attractive girl. GIRL Kenny's crazy, I never worked for Colson, I worked for an assistant. Colson was big on secrets anyway. Even if I had worked for him, I wouldn't have known anything. BERNSTEIN Nothing at all you can remember? SECRETARY (headshake) Sorry. (pause) Now if it was Hunt you were interested in-- BERNSTEIN --Howard Hunt? SECRETARY Sure. Him I liked, he was a very nice person. Secretive too, traveled all over, but a decent man. BERNSTEIN Any idea what he did? SECRETARY Oh, the scuttlebutt for awhile was he was investigating Kennedy-- BERNSTEIN --Teddy Kennedy? SECRETARY Sure. I remember seeing a book about Chappaquiddick on his desk and he was always getting material out of the White House Library and the Library of Congress and-- And as

occasion

How many times the word 'occasion' appears in the text?

All the President's Men Script at IMSDb. var _gaq = _gaq || []; _gaq.push(['_setAccount', 'UA-3785444-3']); _gaq.push(['_trackPageview']); (function() { var ga = document.createElement('script'); ga.type = 'text/javascript'; ga.async = true; ga.src = ('https:' == document.location.protocol ? 'https://ssl' : 'http://www') + '.google-analytics.com/ga.js'; var s = document.getElementsByTagName('script')[0]; s.parentNode.insertBefore(ga, s); })(); The Internet Movie Script Database (IMSDb) The web's largest movie script resource! Search IMSDb Alphabetical # A B C D E F G H I J K L M N O P Q R S T U V W X Y Z Genre Action Adventure Animation Comedy Crime Drama Family Fantasy Film-Noir Horror Musical Mystery Romance Sci-Fi Short Thriller War Western Sponsor TV Transcripts Futurama Seinfeld South Park Stargate SG-1 Lost The 4400 International French scripts Movie Software Rip from DVD Rip Blu-Ray Latest Comments Star Wars: Revenge of the Sith10/10 Star Wars: The Force Awakens10/10 Batman Begins9/10 Collateral10/10 Jackie Brown8/10 Movie Chat Message Yell ! ALL SCRIPTS ALL THE PRESIDENT'S MEN - by William Goldman if (window!= top) top.location.href=location.href // --> "ALL THE PRESIDENT'S MEN" by William Goldman Based on the novel "All The President's Men" by Carl Bernstein and Bob Woodward Pre-rehearsal version March, 1975 Start with as few credits as possible. When they're over-- FADE IN ON: A TINY BLACK PIECE OF TAPE. We see it in the center of the large, dimly lit screen. As the tape is pressed around a door-- BEGIN THE BREAK-IN SEQUENCE. It's a major piece of action, running maybe five minutes and it's all as detailed and accurate as we can make it, with as many "if only's" included as possible. ("If only" the tape had been attached up and down instead of around the door, Wills wouldn't have spotted it and alerted the police; "if only" the first police car called had gone to investigate, Baldwin, watching from the Howard Johnson Motor Inn, would have seen their uniforms and radioed Hunt and Liddy in time for them to have gotten to the five burglars and then safely away.) The break-in ends when Leeper arrests the five men. He thought he only had one guy, so when ten hands were raised he was surprised. The hands are all encased in Playtex rubber surgical gloves. HOLD on the hands a moment; then-- GO TO: A DARK APARTMENT. The phone rings. WOODWARD fumbles for the receiver, turns on the bed light. He listens a moment. WOODWARD No, no trouble, Harry, be right down. (he hangs up) Son of a bitch. He lies back. The apartment is one room, a small terrace beyond. Not much of a place. WOODWARD lies still, staring at the ceiling. He blinks, blinks again. HOLD... CUT TO: THE ENORMOUS FIFTH FLOOR OF THE WASHINGTON POST. It looks, early of a Saturday morning, pretty deserted. Those reporters that are around are young, bright, and presently involved in nothing more taxing than drinking coffee and thumbing through the papers. HARRY ROSENFELD surveys the scene from his office doorway as WOODWARD approaches, hangs his coat at his desk, not far from where ROSENFELD is standing. ROSENFELD Where's that cheery face we've come to know and love? WOODWARD You call me in on my day off because some idiots have broken into local Democratic Headquarters--tell me, Harry, why should I be smiling? ROSENFELD As usual, that keen mind of yours has pegged the situation perfectly. (chomps on some Maalox tablets) Except (a) it wasn't local Democratic Headquarters, it was National Democratic Headquarters-- (WOODWARD is surprised-- he hadn't known) --and (b) these weren't just any idiots, these were special idiots, seeing as when they were arrested at 2:30 this morning, they were all wearing business suits and Playtex gloves and were carrying-- (consults a piece of paper) --a walkie-talkie, forty rolls of film, cameras, lock picks, pen-sized tear gas guns, plus various bugging devices. (puts paper down) Not to mention over two thousand dollars, mostly in sequenced hundred dollar bills. WOODWARD Preliminary hearing at Superior Courthouse? ROSENFELD (nods) Two o'clock, work the phones 'til you go. CUT TO: THE CRIMINAL COURTS BUILDING. WOODWARD hurries along, goes inside as we CUT TO: A CORRIDOR INSIDE. WOODWARD comes down it, looks around, sees a door marked "Counsel's Offices" and heads toward it. Now-- CUT TO: A CLERK AT A DESK as WOODWARD comes up. Behind them, two lawyers are clearly angry about something, talking and gesticulating to each other. WOODWARD (to the COUNSEL'S CLERK) Could you give me the names of the lawyers for the men arrested in the Watergate. CLERK These two were appointed-- (indicates the angry men) --only now it turns out the burglars got their own counsel. (he starts to laugh) FIRST ANGRY LAWYER (to CLERK) When you gonna stop thinking it's so funny. SECOND ANGRY LAWYER (To CLERK) We wouldda done a terrific job protecting those guys. (neither lawyer, by the way, is Clarence Darrow) FIRST ANGRY LAWYER You think we're not as good as some hotshot fancy lawyer?-- CUT TO: THE COURTROOM and business is booming. Muggers, pimp, hookers, their families and friends. In the scene that follows, a constant counterpoint is what's going on up at the front as an endless succession of petty criminals caught the previous night, the aforementioned muggers, pimps, and hookers, are shuttled in, given a quick appearance before a JUDGE who sets bond, and then shuttled out. In the audience, one man stands out--DOUGLAS CADDY. He is extremely well-dressed and obviously successful. Beside him sits another smaller man, who is unshaven and squints. WOODWARD moves in, sits alongside CADDY. WOODWARD Mr. Caddy? My name's Bob Woodward, I'm from the Post and I wanted to ask about how you happened to come on this case-- CADDY --I'm not here. WOODWARD (nods) OK. He takes out a small notebook, writes, muttering aloud as he does. WOODWARD Douglas Caddy, the attorney of record, when questioned about his presence in the courtroom, denied he was in the courtroom, "I'm not here," Mr. Caddy said. CADDY (impatiently) Clearly, I am here, but only as an individual, I'm not the attorney of record. (indicating unshaven man) Mr. Rafferty has that position. Whatever you want, you'll have to get from him, I have nothing more to say. And as he gets up, walks off-- CUT TO: THE WATER FOUNTAIN IN THE CORRIDOR. There is a small line. CADDY waits at the end of it. WOODWARD (moving in behind him) Mr. Rafferty was very helpful. Four Cuban-Americans and this other man, James McCord. CADDY Look, I told you inside-- WOODWARD --you have nothing more to say, I understand that. CADDY turns away; WOODWARD goes right on. WOODWARD What I don't understand is how you got here. CADDY I assure you, there's nothing mysterious involved. WOODWARD Probably you're right, but a little while ago, I was talking to a couple of lawyers who'd been assigned to represent the burglars. CADDY So? WOODWARD Well, they never would have been assigned if anyone had known the burglars had arranged for their own counsel. And that could only mean the burglars didn't arrange for their own counsel--they never even made a phone call. (looks at CADDY) So if they didn't ask for you to be here, how did you know to come? Without a word, CADDY turns, leaves the line without getting a drink. Silently, WOODWARD watches. Now-- CUT TO: CADDY seated as before beside RAFFERTY. WOODWARD's voice come from behind him, and as CADDY turns, WOODWARD is seated one row back. WOODWARD Did you know to come because one of the other men involved in the break- in called you? CADDY (turning) There is no reason to assume other people were involved. WOODWARD Your clients were arrested with a walkie-talkie; they didn't need that to talk among themselves. CADDY looks at WOODWARD, turns back. CADDY (turning back) They are not my clients. WOODWARD You're a lawyer and you're here-- CADDY --I met one of the defendants, Mr. Barker, at a social occasion once-- (stops himself) --I have nothing more to say. WOODWARD (leaning forward as CADDY turns away again) A Miami social occasion? (explaining) Mr. Rafferty told me the Cubans were from Miami. CADDY (sighing) Barker's wife called me at three this morning; her husband apparently had told her to call if he hadn't called her by then. WOODWARD It was really nice of you to come, since you'd only met him once. CADDY Are you implying you don't believe me? WOODWARD I have nothing more to say. CADDY You don't mind getting on people's nerves, do you? WOODWARD considers this a moment. Then-- WOODWARD Nope. And on that word-- CUT TO: THE COURTROOM as without warning, it quiets. There is suddenly a tremendous air of expectancy, you can feel it. Now we see why as five men in dark business suits are led in; they've been stripped of belts, ties, and shoelaces. McCord is taller than the others. They stand, facing the JUDGE, backs to the audience. WOODWARD sits watching as the proceedings start, but it's hard to hear. He concentrates as the JUDGE starts speaking. JUDGE Will you please state your professions. The five men do not move or reply. Then, after a long pause, Barker says-- BARKER Anti-Communists. JUDGE Anti-Communists? (perplexed) That, sir, is not your average occupation. WOODWARD starts moving forward now, down an aisle, moving past kids and whores and all the rest, trying to hear what the hell's going on. At the front of the spectator's section is a fence-like wooden barricade about three feet high. As he approaches it-- The JUDGE indicates the bald burglar. JUDGE Your name, please. MCCORD James McCord. JUDGE Will you step forward, sir. (MCCORD obeys) WOODWARD at the bench is leaning forward, trying to hear but it's hard. JUDGE And what is your occupation, Mr. McCord? MCCORD (softly) Security consultant. JUDGE Where? MCCORD (softer) Government. Recently retired. JUDGE Where in government? MCCORD (we can't really make this out) ...Central... Intelligence... Agency... JUDGE (he can't either) Where? MCCORD (clearing his throat) The C.I.A. And on these words, ZOOM TO: CLOSE UP--WOODWARD leaning over the fence practically falling over it in a desperate straining effort to catch what's going on. WOODWARD (stunned) Holy shit. Now from the courtroom-- CUT TO: THOUSANDS AND THOUSANDS OF WASHINGTON POSTS. We are at the end of the press run, the papers are all assembled and being cabled and sent off by machine to various places. As the papers continue to roll past-- A UNION TYPE EMPLOYEE grabs a paper, looks at the front page. The Watergate story, headlined whatever it was headlined, is visible. The byline was by Alfred E. Lewis. The union type Post employee glances at the article-- UNION POST EMPLOYEE (reading half-aloud) "Five men, one of whom said he is a former employee..." (stops reading, gives a shrug) Schmucks. And he turns happily to the sports section-- CUT TO: A CLOSE UP OF HUNDRED DOLLAR BILLS. It's new money and looks as if it's been recently ironed. Someone is going through the cash, making a quick count. During this-- FIRST VOICE (V.O.) Hurry it, huh, Bachinski? BACHINSKI You said I could look at it-- PULL BACK TO REVEAL We're in a room in a police station and two men are present. One, a COP, is nervous as hell and constantly aware of the door. The other, BACHINSKI, is taking hurried notes in a reporter's type notebook as he examines the evidence. COP --I said look, not memorize-- BACHINSKI --almost done, give it a rest, all right... (and he looks at an address book, he stops) CUT TO: THE ADDRESS BOOK. Beside the name "Howard E. Hunt" is the notation "W.House." Now, BACHINSKI hurriedly opens the other book to the letter "H" and there is the same name, "Howard E. Hunt" and beside it, the letters, "W.H." COP (V.O.) What'd you find? BACHINSKI (V.O.) Beats me. These notebooks belonged to Cuban guys? COP (V.O.) S'right. BACHINSKI (V.O.) It's gotta mean either White House or whore house, one or the other. We HOLD on the HUNT name, and the address notations. Then-- CUT TO: WOODWARD'S APARTMENT - NIGHT. The phone rings, waking him. He fumbles for the phone and the light, finally gets them both. WOODWARD Bachinski? (reaches for a notebook) What?--hold it-- (gets it open, starts to write) --OK, go on, go on... CUT TO: A BOX OF MAALOX TABLETS. ROSENFELD is opening them, we're in his office, WOODWARD sits across the desk, holding the notebook we saw him writing in. ROSENFELD ...go on, go on... WOODWARD That's everything Bachinski had, I think it's worth following up. ROSENFELD Don't know; who the hell's Howard Hunt? (crunches tablets) It's probably nothing but check it out. Just go easy, it could be crazy Cubans. HOWARD SIMONS sticks his head in the office. SIMONS Anything? ROSENFELD Woodward's onto a new wrinkle with the break-in thing--absolute page one stuff-- SIMONS --in other words, you got nothing, you're thumbsucking. ROSENFELD (shrugs) Could develop. SIMONS Let me see what you get, but don't jump--The New York Times thinks it's crazy Cubans. He moves on. ROSENFELD turns quickly to WOODWARD. ROSENFELD OK, get on this W.House guy and do a better job then you did on McCord. WOODWARD I did all right on McCord. ROSENFELD Then how come the Associated Press were the ones found out that Mr. McCord is security coordinator for the Committee to Re-elect the President, otherwise known as CREEP? WOODWARD (getting it straight) The head of security for the reelection of a Republican President got caught bugging the national offices of the Democrats? What the hell does that mean? ROSENFELD (hasn't the foggiest) Mr. John Mitchell, the head of CREEP, says it means nothing. (reads) "...This man and the other people involved were not operating on either our behalf or with our consent. These is no place in our campaign or in the electoral process for this type of activity, and we will not forget it or condone it." WOODWARD (getting up) You can't believe that. ROSENFELD As a rough rule of thumb, as far as I can throw Bronco Nagurski, that's how much I trust John Mitchell... Now-- CUT TO: A MOON-FACED MAN RINGING A TRIANGLE. CUT TO: THE NEWSROOM as the triangle sound echoes. HOWARD SIMONS leaves large Managing Editor's office, walks past another office, knocks twice on the glass wall. Inside the Executive Editor's office, BEN BRADLEE sits. As SIMONS knocks, he turns, nods. He appears, for the moment, deep in thought. HARRY ROSENFELD on the opposite end of the room hurries out of his office, following a bunch of editors, all of them heading across the huge room. As he passes WOODWARD's desk ROSENFELD pauses. ROSENFELD What'd you get on W.House? WOODWARD (massaging his neck) Lotsa hints-- ROSENFELD (not happy) I can't sell hints to Simons-- (stops, looks at piece of yellow paper) --you called everyone you know? (WOODWARD makes a nod) Call someone you don't know. WOODWARD continues to rub his neck as ROSENFELD hurries off, all the editors still moving toward the place where the moon- faced man intermittently rings the triangle. WOODWARD picks up the sheet of yellow paper from his desk. Lined, legal-sized, it is crammed with names and numbers and addresses. They are in no neat order; looking at them it's almost like following a path; chicken tracks in ink. WOODWARD mutters "to hell with it" and reaches for a thick book, flips it open. NOW WE SEE THE BOOK: It's the Washington Phone Directory and we're in the W's. As WOODWARD's finger stops, we can see he's looking at the White HOuse entry number. There it is, just like your name and mine. Listed. Now WOODWARD starts to dial, visibly nervous, a fact he tries very hard to keep out of his voice tone. WHITE HOUSE OPERATOR (V.O.) White House. WOODWARD (casually) Howard Hunt, please. Throughout the following call, we stay on WOODWARD's face, hear the other voices. WHITE HOUSE OPERATOR (V.O.) Mr. Hunt does not answer. WOODWARD is delighted he's even there. WOODWARD Thanks, anyway-- And he's about to hang up, when-- WHITE HOUSE OPERATOR (V.O.) I'll bet he's in Mr. Colson's office. Let me connect you. SECRETARY (V.O.) Charles Colson's wire. WOODWARD (a little more excited) Howard Hunt, please. SECRETARY (V.O.) Mr. Hunt isn't here just now. WOODWARD Thanks, anyway. And he's about to hang up again when-- SECRETARY (V.O.) Have you tried Mullen and Company Public Relations? He works at Mullen and Company Public Relations as a writer. The number is 555-1313. I'm sorry I couldn't be more helpful. WOODWARD Listen, forget it. He hangs up, sits there. His hands are a little twitchy... HOLD. Now-- CUT TO: ROSENFELD hurrying (he always hurries) toward his office. WOODWARD, looking for something in his desk throughout this scene, speaks to him. WOODWARD Who's Charles Colson? ROSENFELD (stops dead) I would liken your query to being in Russia half a century ago and asking someone, "I understand who Lenin is and Trotsky I got too, but who's this yokel Stalin?" WOODWARD Who's Colson, Harry? ROSENFELD The most powerful man in America is President Nixon, probably you've heard his name. WOODWARD, unfazed by anything, continues to open drawers, close them, as ROSENFELD rolls on. ROSENFELD The second most powerful man is Robert Haldeman. Just below him are a trio: Mr. Erlichman is Haldeman's friend, and they protect the President from everybody which is why they are referred to as either The German Shepherds or the Berlin Wall. Mr. Mitchell we've already discussed. Mr. Colson is the President's special counsel. WOODWARD (rising) Thanks, Harry. (looks at ROSENFELD) Know anything about Colson? ROSENFELD Just that on his office wall there's a cartoon with a caption reading, "When you've got them by the balls, their hearts and minds will follow." WOODWARD nods, heads back toward the files as we CUT TO: WOODWARD AT HIS DESK dialing the phone. He's got the Colson file spread out now, and we see pictures of the man and articles the Post had done on him. But basically what we see is WOODWARD plugging away on the goddamn phone and you'd think his finger would fall off from all the dialing and you know his voice is tiring as this montage goes on, you can hear it grow raspy. But a lot of what a reporter does he does on the phone, and that's what we're compressing here. The dialing never stops, the voices are continuous. WOODWARD Hello, I'm Bob Woodward of the Washing Post and... (beat) Mullen and Company Public Relations? Could you tell me when you expect Mr. Hunt? (surprised) He is? HUNT (V.O.) Howard Hunt here. WOODWARD Hi, I'm Bob Woodward of the Post and-- HUNT (V.O.) (impatient) --yes, yes, what is it? WOODWARD I was just kind of wondering why your name and phone number were in the address books of two of the men arrested at Watergate? HUNT (V.O.) (blind panic) Good God! And he bangs the phone down sharply-- --more dialing SOUNDS. Now snatches of conversation-- WOODWARD I'm sorry to bother you, Mr. Bennett, but we're doing some investigating of one of your employees, Howard Hunt. BENNETT (V.O.) Well, if you've been doing some investigating then obviously it's no secret to you that Howard was with the C.I.A. WOODWARD (he hadn't known) No secret at all. More dialing. Then-- WOODWARD (tired, voice deeper) Hello, C.I.A. This is R.W. Woodward, of the Washington Post--get me Personnel-- Dialing again. WOODWARD's voice is showing genuine fatigue. WOODWARD Hi, I'm Bob Woodward of the Washington Post--and--what's that?--you've never heard of me?--I can't help that--you don't believe I'm with the Post?-- what do you want me to do, Madam, shout "extra--extra"? There is the SOUND of the phone being slammed down in his ear. Hard. Now-- CUT TO: ROSENFELD AND SIMONS approaching WOODWARD who is working at his desk. He has put in a lot of hours on this and looks it. ROSENFELD Whaddya got, whaddya got? WOODWARD Hunt is Colson's man-- (to SIMONS, explaining) --that's Charles Colson, Nixon's special counsel-- (SIMONS almost says something, decides against it) --they both went to Brown University-- (consulting his notes) --Hunt worked for the C.I.A. till '70, and this is on deep background, the FBI thinks he's involved with the break-in. SIMONS What else have you got? WOODWARD According to White House personnel, Hunt definitely works there as a consultant for Colson. But when I called the White House Press office, they said he hadn't worked there for three months. Then the P.R. guy said the weirdest thing to me. (reading) "I am convinced that neither Mr. Colson nor anyone else at the White House had any knowledge of, or participation in, this deplorable incident at the Democratic National Committee." He looks up at them. SIMONS Isn't that what you'd expect them to say? WOODWARD Absolutely. ROSENFELD So? WOODWARD (he's got something and he knows it) I never asked them about Watergate. I only said what were Hunt's duties at the White House. They volunteered that he was innocent when nobody asked was he guilty. ROSENFELD (to SIMONS) I think we got a White House consultant linked to the bugging. SIMONS (nods) Just be careful how you write it. CUT TO: WOODWARD TYPING LIKE MAD, makes a mistake, corrects it, types on muttering to himself, and-- CUT TO: ROSENFELD IN HIS OFFICE munching a handful of Maalox tablets and-- CUT TO: WOODWARD taking a sheet from his typewriter, hurrying off and-- CUT TO: ROSENFELD taking the sheet from WOODWARD-- WOODWARD Here's the first take-- ROSENFELD nods, shows him out and-- CUT TO: WOODWARD BACK AT HIS MACHINE typing faster then before, makes another mistake, starts to correct it, glances around and-- CUT TO: ROSENFELD IN HIS OFFICE gesturing to somebody but not WOODWARD and-- CUT TO: WOODWARD watching as BERNSTEIN appears in view from behind the wide pillar by WOODWARD's desk, heads toward ROSENFELD's office. WOODWARD shrugs, goes back to his typing, makes a typo immediately, glances over toward ROSENFELD's office, freezes as we-- CUT TO: ROSENFELD handing some papers to BERNSTEIN. They look, from this distance, suspiciously like WOODWARD's story. CUT TO: BERNSTEIN hurrying out of ROSENFELD's office, and-- CUT TO: WOODWARD watching BERNSTEIN until he disappears out of sight behind the pillar. WOODWARD hesitates, finally goes back to his typing, makes another mistake, fixes it, makes still another, his temper is shortly to make itself known-- CUT TO: ROSENFELD as WOODWARD hands him another sheet of paper. WOODWARD This is all of it, Harry. ROSENFELD NODS, takes it, immediately starts to read as we-- CUT TO: WOODWARD AT HIS DESK watching as ROSENFELD gestures again. There is a pause. Then BERNSTEIN appears from behind the pillar and-- CUT TO: ROSENFELD handing BERNSTEIN another sheet of paper. BERSTEIN nods, takes it, walks back toward his desk, disappears behind the pillar again. WOODWARD is starting to steam. Now-- CUT TO: BERNSTEIN AT HIS DESK typing magnificently, his hands rising and falling like Rubinstein's. Behind him is the pillar and for a moment there is nothing--then, very slowly, a figure peers out from behind the pillar--it is WOODWARD. He watches. BERNSTEIN continues to type, then after a moment, rests, thinks, shifts around in his chair and as his glance starts toward the pillar-- CUT TO: THE PILLAR. WOODWARD is gone. CUT TO: BERNSTEIN typing madly away. THE PILLAR. WOODWARD is visible again, eyes very bright... now-- CUT TO: BERNSTEIN finishing typing, his hands moving majestically. WOODWARD comes up behind him, stands looking a second. Then-- WOODWARD We have to talk. BERNSTEIN nods, grabs the papers both that he's been typing and that he's been copying from. And as he rises-- PAN TO: WOODWARD AND BERNSTEIN walking silently out of the newsroom then turning left down a darker corridor, passing bulletin boards and wall lockers and it's all nice and quiet as they amble on, nodding to the few people they pass on their way and after a while they turn right and enter the coffee lounge which is empty; the walls are lined with Norman Rockwell reproductions and various kinds of vending machines are visible, selling coffee or milk or fruit or sandwiches and there are some plastic tables and chairs and the minute they are alone, the silence ends. WOODWARD What the hell were you doing rewriting my story-- BERNSTEIN --I sure couldn't hurt it, could I?-- WOODWARD --it was fine the way it was-- BERNSTEIN --it was bullshit the way it was-- WOODWARD --I have to stand here and listen to the staff correspondent from Virginia?-- BERNSTEIN (a sore subject) --what have you been here, nine months?--I been in this business since I was sixteen-- WOODWARD --and you've had some fucking meteoric rise, that's for sure--by the time you turn forty you might be the head of the Montana bureau-- BERNSTEIN --you only got the job because both you and Bradlee went to Yale-- WOODWARD --Bradlee went to Harvard-- BERNSTEIN --they're all the same, all those Ivy League places--they teach you about striped ties and suddenly you're smart-- WOODWARD --I'm smart enough to know my story was solid-- BERNSTEIN --mine's better-- WOODWARD --no way-- BERNSTEIN (handing them over) --read 'em both and you'll see-- And as WOODWARD glances at the two stories-- CUT TO: BERNSTEIN watching. Now-- CUT TO: WOODWARD. He glances from one story to the other. Then, disconsolately-- WOODWARD ...crap... And he sinks down in a chair. BERNSTEIN Is mine better? WOODWARD nods. WOODWARD (handing the stories back) What is it about my writing that's so rotten? BERNSTEIN (as he exits) Mainly it has to do with your choice of words. And as he goes, leaving WOODWARD just sitting there-- CUT TO: BERSTEIN, re-entering the newsroom, returning to his desk. He starts to insert some papers into his typewriter, hesitates, lights a cigarette. He inhales, as, behind him, WOODWARD briefly is visible going to his desk behind the pillar. Finally BERNSTEIN inserts the paper, starts to type as WOODWARD (V.O.) (from behind the pillar) Carl? BERNSTEIN (turns) Yeah? WOODWARD (pushing his chair briefly into view) Fuck you, Carl. And as he rolls forward again, out of sight-- CUT TO: RICHARD NIXON ON THE TUBE. (It's the June 22 Press Conference.) He talks on about something, it doesn't matter exactly what here, the point is, it should include that strange smile of his that kept appearing when the man should not have been smiling. Hints of pressure maybe, that's all, and once it's established-- PULL BACK TO REVEAL: WOODWARD sitting alone, gloomily staring at the set. We're in the Post Cafeteria, it's the next morning, and the place is pretty much empty. He sips the coffee, it tastes rotten. BERNSTEIN moves up behind him, carrying a cup of coffee of his own. He stands by WOODWARD briefly. BERNSTEIN You heard? (WOODWARD glances up) They put us both on the break-in thing. Simons liked the way we worked together. (WOODWARD nods, BERNSTEIN sits down) Listen, I'm sorry I said your story was bullshit. WOODWARD It's OK; I'm sorry I called you a failure. BERNSTEIN Forget it, the main thing-- (stops) --did you call me a failure? WOODWARD I was sure trying. CUT TO: WOODWARD, BERNSTEIN, AND NIXON. The way it's shot, it's almost as if they're watching each other; NIXON staring out from the TV set, answering questions. WOODWARD and BERNSTEIN sip coffee. We don't know yet--or better, they don't know it yet, but these are our adversaries. CUT TO: WOODWARD AND BERNSTEIN, without NIXON now. They sit at the table. Occasionally, NIXON is audible in the background. WOODWARD All right, what do we know? BERNSTEIN Let me lay a little theory on you-- WOODWARD (cutting him off) --I'm not interested in theory. What do we know? For example, Hunt's disappeared. BERNSTEIN Well, Barker tried to get blueprints of the Miami Convention Center and the air-conditioning system. WOODWARD And McCord was carrying an application for college press credentials for the Democratic convention. (to BERNSTEIN) The Times has got to be full of it-- it can't be crazy Cubans. BERNSTEIN What, though? (points to Nixon) It can't be the Republicans--he'd never allow something as stupid as this, not when he's gonna slaughter McGovern anyway. WOODWARD Right. Nixon didn't get where he got by being dumb-- (stops abruptly) --listen, that was a Watergate question-- CUT TO: NIXON ON THE TUBE. Serious now. NIXON The White House has had no involvement whatever in this particular incident. CUT TO: WOODWARD AND BERNSTEIN staring at the set thinking... CUT TO: WOODWARD AND BERNSTEIN walking toward BERSTEIN'S desk. WOODWARD Hey? BERNSTEIN Hmm. WOODWARD What do you think he meant, this particular incident? Were there others? How would we find out? You know anyone important? BERNSTEIN (sits, shakes his head) I lived here all my life, I got a million contacts, but they're all bus boys and bellhops. The reporter KEN RINGLE at the next desk watches them a moment. Then-- RINGLE What do you need? BERNSTEIN Someone inside the White House would be nice. RINGLE (writes down phone number) Call her. She worked for Colson, if that's any help. As BERNSTEIN grabs for the phone-- CUT TO: A SECRETARIAL POOL IN A LARGE OFFICE. BERNSTEIN is talking off to one side with an attractive girl. GIRL Kenny's crazy, I never worked for Colson, I worked for an assistant. Colson was big on secrets anyway. Even if I had worked for him, I wouldn't have known anything. BERNSTEIN Nothing at all you can remember? SECRETARY (headshake) Sorry. (pause) Now if it was Hunt you were interested in-- BERNSTEIN --Howard Hunt? SECRETARY Sure. Him I liked, he was a very nice person. Secretive too, traveled all over, but a decent man. BERNSTEIN Any idea what he did? SECRETARY Oh, the scuttlebutt for awhile was he was investigating Kennedy-- BERNSTEIN --Teddy Kennedy? SECRETARY Sure. I remember seeing a book about Chappaquiddick on his desk and he was always getting material out of the White House Library and the Library of Congress and-- And as

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How many times the word 'script' appears in the text?

All the same, why him? Why use Mozart to teach me lessons in humility? My heart was filling up with such hatred for that little man. For the first time in my life I began to know really violent thoughts. I couldn't stop them. VOGLER Did you try? OLD SALIERI Every day. Sometimes for hours I would pray! INT. SALIERI'S APARTMENT - BEDROOM - DAY - 1780'S The young Salieri is kneeling in desperation before the Cross. SALIERI Please! Please! Send him away, back to Salzburg. For his sake as well as mine. CU, Christ staring from the Cross. CUT BACK TO: INT. AUDIENCE HALL - ARCHBISHOP'S PALACE - SALZBURG - DAY - 1780'S We see Leopold kneeling now not to the Cross but to Archbishop Colloredo, sitting impassively on his throne. Count Arco stands beside him. Leopold is a desperate, once-handsome man of sixty, now far too much the subservient courtier. COLLOREDO No! I won't have him back. LEOPOLD But he needs to be here in Salzburg, Your Grace. He needs me and he needs you. Your protection, your understanding. COLLOREDO Hardly. LEOPOLD Oh sir, yes! He's about to make the worst mistake of his life. Some little Viennese slut is trying to trick him into marriage. I know my son. He is too simple to see the trap - and there is no one there who really cares for him. COLLOREDO I'm not surprised. Money seems to be more important to him than loyalty or friendship. He has sold himself to Vienna. Let Vienna look out for him. LEOPOLD Sir - COLLOREDO Your son is an unprincipled, spoiled, conceited brat. LEOPOLD Yes, sir, that's the truth. But don't blame him. The fault is mine. I was too indulgent with him. But not again. Never again, I promise! I implore you - let me bring him back here. I'll make him give his word to serve you faithfully. COLLOREDO And how will you make him keep it? LEOPOLD Oh, sir, he's never disobeyed me in anything. Please, Your Grace, give him one more chance. COLLOREDO You have leave to try. LEOPOLD Oh, Your Grace - I thank Your Grace! I thank you! In deepest gratitude he kisses the Archbishop's hand. He motions Leopold to rise. We hear the first dark fortissimo chord which begins the Overture to Don Giovanni: the theme associated with the character of the Commendatore. LEOPOLD (V.O.) My dear son. The second fortissimo chord sounds. INT. A BAROQUE CHURCH - DAY - 1780'S We see a huge CU, of Mozart's head, looking front and down, as if reading his father's letter. We hear Leopold's voice over this image, no longer whining and anxious, but impressive. LEOPOLD (V.O.) I write to you with urgent news. I am coming to Vienna. Take no further steps toward marriage until we meet. You are too gullible to see your own danger. As you honour the father who has devoted his entire life to yours, do as I bid, and await my coming. MOZART I will. The camera pulls back to see that he is in fact kneeling beside Constanze. A PRIEST faces them. Behind them are Madame Weber, Josefa and Sophie Weber, and a very few others. Among them, a merry looking lady in bright clothes: the BARONESS WALDSTADTEN. PRIEST And will you, Constanze Weber, take this man, Wolfgang to be your lawful husband? CONSTANZE I will. PRIEST I now pronounce you man and wife. The opening kyrie of the great Mass in C Minor is heard. Mozart and Constanze kiss. They are in tears. Madame Weber and her daughters look on approvingly. The music swells and continues under the following: INT. A ROOM IN LEOPOLD'S HOUSE - SALZBURG - NIGHT - 1780'S There is a view of a castle in background. Leopold sits alone in his room. He is reading a letter from Wolfgang. At his feet are his trunks, half-packed for the journey he will not now take. We hear Mozart's voice reading the following letter and we see, as the camera roves around the room, mementos of the young prodigy's early life: the little forte-piano made for him; the little violin made for him; an Order presented to him. We see a little starling in a wicker cage. And we see portraits of the boy on the walls, concluding with the familiar family portrait of Wolfgang and his sister Nannerl seated at the keyboard with Leopold standing, and the picture of their mother on the wall behind them. MOZART (V.O.) Most beloved father, it is done. Do not blame me that I did not wait to see your dear face. I knew you would have tried to dissuade me from my truest happiness and I could not have borne it. Your every word is precious to me. Remember how you have always told me Vienna is the City of Musicians. To conquer here is to conquer Europe! With my wife I can do it. I vow I will become regular in my habits and productive as never before. She is wonderful, Papa, and I know that you will love her. And one day soon when I am a wealthy man, you will come and live with us, and we will be so happy. I long for that day, best of Papas, and kiss your hand a hundred thousand times. The music of the Mass fades as Leopold crumples the letter in his hand. EXT. THE IMPERIAL GARDENS - VIENNA - DAY - 1780'S Salieri stands waiting, hat in hand. Beside him stands a royal servant. Behind him, gardeners are glimpsed tending the shrubs and bushes along a grassy ride. Down this ride are seen cantering two people on horseback: the Emperor Joseph and his niece, the PRINCESS ELIZABETH. They are mounted on glossy horses. The Princess rides side-saddle. Running beside her is a panting groom. The Emperor rides elegantly; his niece, a dumpy little Hapsburg girl of sixteen, like a sack of potatoes. As they draw level with Salieri they stop, and the groom holds the head of the Princess' horse. Salieri bows respectfully. JOSEPH Good morning, Court Composer. This is my niece, the Princess Elizabeth. SALIERI Your Highness. Out of breath, the Princess nods nervously. JOSEPH She has asked me to advise her on a suitable musical instructor. I think I've come up with an excellent idea. He smiles at Salieri. SALIERI Oh, Your Majesty, it would be such a tremendous honour! JOSEPH I'm thinking about Herr Mozart. What is your view? Salieri's face falls, almost imperceptibly. SALIERI An interesting idea, Majesty. But - JOSEPH Yes? SALIERI You already commissioned an opera from Mozart. JOSEPH And the result satisfies. SALIERI Yes, of course. My concern is to protect you from any suspicion of favouritism. JOSEPH Ah-ha. Favouritism. But I so want Mozart. SALIERI I'm sure there is a way, Majesty. Some kind of a little contest. I could perhaps put together a small Committee, and I could see to it naturally that it will select according to Your Majesty's wishes. JOSEPH You please me, Court Composer. A very clever idea. SALIERI (bowing) Sire. JOSEPH Well. There it is. He rides on. The groom releases her horse's head, and runs on after the Princess. CUT TO: INT. CHAMBERLAIN VON STRACK'S STUDY - DAY - 1780'S Von Strack sits stiffly behind his gilded desk. Mozart stands before him, trembling with anger. MOZART What is this, Herr Chamberlain? VON STRACK What is what? MOZART Why do I have to submit samples of my work to some stupid committee? Just to teach a sixteen-year-old girl. VON STRACK Because His Majesty wishes it. MOZART Is the Emperor angry with me? VON STRACK On the contrary. MOZART Then why doesn't he simply appoint me to the post? VON STRACK Mozart, you are not the only composer in Vienna. MOZART No, but I'm the best. VON STRACK A little modesty would suit you better. MOZART Who is on this committee? VON STRACK Kapellmeister Bonno, Count Orsini- Rosenberg and Court Composer Salieri. MOZART Naturally, the Italians! Of course! Always the Italians! VON STRACK Mozart - MOZART They hate my music. It terrifies them. The only sound Italians understand is banality. Tonic and dominant, tonic and dominant, from here to Resurrection! (singing angrily) Ba-ba! Ba-ba! Ba-ba! Ba-ba! Anything else is morbid. VON STRACK Mozart - MOZART Show them one interesting modulation and they faint. Ohime! Morbidezza! Morbidezza! Italians are musical idiots and you want them to judge my music! VON STRACK Look, young man, the issue is simple. If you want this post, you must submit your stuff in the same way as all your colleagues. MOZART Must I? Well, I won't! I tell you straight: I will not! CUT TO: INT. MOZART'S APARTMENT - BEDROOM - VIENNA - DAY - 1780'S The room is very small and untidy. Constanze is marching up and down it, upset. Mozart is lying on the bed. CONSTANZE I think you're mad! You're really mad! MOZART Oh, leave me alone. CONSTANZE One royal pupil and the whole of Vienna will come flocking. We'd be set up for life! MOZART They'll come anyway. They love me here. CONSTANZE No, they will not. I know how things work in this city. MOZART Oh yes? You always know everything. CONSTANZE Well, I'm not borrowing any more money from my mother, and that's that! MOZART You borrowed money from your mother? CONSTANZE Yes! MOZART Well, don't do that again! CONSTANZE How are we going to live, Wolfi? Do you want me to go into the streets and beg? MOZART Don't be stupid. CONSTANZE All they want to see is your work. What's wrong with that? MOZART Shut up! Just shut up! I don't need them. CONSTANZE This isn't pride. It's sheer stupidity! She glares at him, almost in tears. CUT TO: INT. SALIERI'S MUSIC ROOM - LATE AFTERNOON - 1780'S Salieri is giving a lesson to a girl student, who is singing the Italian art song, Caro Mio Ben. There is a knock on the door. SALIERI Yes. A SERVANT enters. SERVANT Excuse me, sir, there is a lady who insists on talking to you. SALIERI Who is she? SERVANT She didn't say. But she says it's urgent. SALIERI (to the pupil) Excuse me, my dear. Salieri goes into the salon. CUT TO: INT. THE SALON - LATE AFTERNOON - 1780'S Constanze stands, closely veiled, holding a portfolio stuffed with manuscripts. The singing lesson ends, with two chords on the instrument. Salieri enters the salon. Constanze drops him a shy curtsey. CONSTANZE Excellency! SALIERI Madame. How can I help you? Shyly, she unveils. SALIERI Frau Mozart? CONSTANZE That's right, Your Excellency. I've come on behalf of my hus band. I'm - I'm bringing some samples of his work so he can be considered for the royal appointment. SALIERI How charming. But why did he not come himself? CONSTANZE He's terribly busy, sir. SALIERI I understand. He takes the portfolio and puts it on a table. SALIERI I will look at them, of course, the moment I can. It will be an honour. Please give him my warmest. CONSTANZE Would it be too much trouble, sir, to ask you to look at them now? While I wait. SALIERI I'm afraid I'm not at leisure this very moment. Just leave them with me. I assure you they will be quite safe. CONSTANZE I - I really cannot do that, Your Excellency. You see, he doesn't know I'm here. SALIERI Really? CONSTANZE My husband is a proud man, sir. He would be furious if he knew I'd come. SALIERI Then he didn't send you? CONSTANZE No, sir. This is my own idea. SALIERI I see. CONSTANZE Sir, we really need this job. We're desperate. My husband spends far more than he can ever earn. I don't mean he's lazy - he's not at all - he works all day long. It's just! he's not practical. Money simply slips through his fingers, it's really ridiculous, Your Excellency. I know you help musicians. You're famous for it. Give him just this one post. We'd be forever indebted! A short pause. SALIERI Let me offer you some refreshment. Do you know what these are? He indicates a dish piled high with glazed chestnuts. SALIERI Cappezzoli di Venere. Nipples of Venus. Roman chestnuts in brandied sugar. Won't you try one? They're quite surprising. He offers her the dish. She takes one and puts it in her mouth. He watches carefully. CONSTANZE Oh! They're wonderful. He takes one himself. We notice on his finger a heavy gold signet-ring. CONSTANZE Thank you very much, Your Excellency. SALIERI Don't keep calling me that. It puts me at such a distance. I was not born a Court Composer, you know. I'm from a small town, just like your husband. He smiles at her. She takes another chestnut. SALIERI Are you sure you can't leave that music, and come back again? I have other things you might like. CONSTANZE That's very tempting, but it's impossible, I'm afraid. Wolfi would be frantic if he found those were missing. You see, they're all originals. SALIERI Originals? CONSTANZE Yes. A pause. He puts out his hand and takes up the portfolio from the table. He opens it. He looks at the music. He is puzzled. SALIERI These are originals? CONSTANZE Yes, sir. He doesn't make copies. CUT TO: INT. OLD SALIERI'S HOSPITAL ROOM - NIGHT - 1823 The old man faces the Priest. OLD SALIERI Astounding! It was actually beyond belief. These were first and only drafts of music yet they showed no corrections of any kind. Not one. Do you realize what that meant? Vogler stares at him. OLD SALIERI He'd simply put down music already finished in his head. Page after page of it, as if he was just taking dictation. And music finished as no music is ever finished. INT. SALIERI'S SALON - LATE AFTERNOON - 1780'S CU, The manuscript in Mozart's handwriting. The music begins to sound under the following: OLD SALIERI (V.O.) Displace one note and there would be diminishment. Displace one phrase, and the structure would fall. It was clear to me. That sound I had heard in the Archbishop's palace had been no accident. Here again was the very voice of God! I was staring through the cage of those meticulous ink- strokes at an absolute, inimitable beauty. The music swells. What we now hear is an amazing collage of great passages from Mozart's music, ravishing to Salieri and to us. The Court Composer, oblivious to Constanze, who sits happily chewing chestnuts, her mouth covered in sugar, walks around and around his salon, reading the pages and dropping them on the floor when he is done with them. We see his agonized and wondering face: he shudders as if in a rough and tumbling sea; he experiences the point where beauty and great pain coalesce. More pages fall than he can read, scattering across the floor in a white cascade, as he circles the room. Finally, we hear the tremendous Qui Tollis from the Mass in C Minor. It seems to break over him like a wave and, unable to bear any more of it, he slams the portfolio shut. Instantly, the music breaks off, reverberating in his head. He stands shaking, staring wildly. Constanze gets up, perplexed. CONSTANZE Is it no good? A pause. SALIERI It is miraculous. CONSTANZE Oh yes. He's really proud of his work. Another pause. CONSTANZE So, will you help him? Salieri tries to recover himself. SALIERI Tomorrow night I dine with the Emperor. One word from me and the post is his. CONSTANZE Oh, thank you, sir! Overjoyed, she stops and kisses his hand. He raises her - and then clasps her to him clumsily. She pushes herself away. SALIERI Come back tonight. CONSTANZE Tonight? SALIERI Alone. CONSTANZE What for? SALIERI Some service deserves service in return. No? CONSTANZE What do you mean? SALIERI Isn't it obvious? They stare at one another: Constanze in total disbelief. SALIERI It's a post all Vienna seeks. If you want it for your husband, come tonight. CONSTANZE But! I'm a married woman! SALIERI Then don't. It's up to you. Not to be vague, that is the price. He glares at her. SALIERI Yes. He rings a silver bell for a servant and abruptly leaves the roam. Constanze stares after him, horrified. The servant enters. Shocked and stunned, Constanze goes down an her knees and starts picking up the music from the floor. CUT TO: INT. OLD SALIERI'S HOSPITAL ROOM - NIGHT - 1823 CU, Father Vogler, horrified. OLD SALIERI Yes, Father. Yes! So much for my vow of chastity. What did it matter? Good, patient, hard-working, chaste - what did it matter? Had goodness made me a good composer? I realized it absolutely then - that moment: goodness is nothing in the furnace of art. And I was nothing to God. VOGLER (crying out) You cannot say that! OLD SALIERI No? Was Mozart a good man? VOGLER God's ways are not yours. And you are not here to question Him. Offer him the salt of penitence. He will give you back the bread of eternal life. He is all merciful. That is all you need to know. OLD SALIERI All I ever wanted was to sing to Him. That's His doing, isn't it? He gave me that longing - then made me mute. Why? Tell me that. If He didn't want me to serve Him with music, why implant the desire, like a lust in my body, then deny me the talent? Go on, tell me! Speak for Him! VOGLER My son, no one can speak for God. OLD SALIERI Oh? I thought you did so every day. So speak now. Answer me! VOGLER I do not claim to unravel the mysteries. I treasure them. As you should. OLD SALIERI (impatiently) Oh yes, yes, yes, yes, yes! Always the same stale answers! (intimately to the priest) There is no God of Mercy, Father. Just a God of torture. CUT TO: INT. SALIERI'S APARTMENT - BEDROOM - NIGHT - 1780'S Salieri sits at his desk, staring up at the cross. OLD SALIERI (V.O.) Evening came to that room. I sat there not knowing whether the girl would return or not. I prayed as I'd never prayed before. SALIERI Dear God, enter me now. Fill me with one piece of true music. One piece with your breath in it, so I know that you love me. Please. Just one. Show me one sign of your favour, and I will show mine to Mozart and his wife. I will get him the royal position, and if she comes, I'll receive her with all respect and send her home in joy. Enter me! Enter me! Please! Te imploro. Long, long silence. Salieri stares at the cross. Christ stares back at him impassively. Finally in this silence we hear a faint knocking at the door. Salieri stirs himself. A servant appears. SERVANT That lady is back, sir. SALIERI Show her in. Then go to bed. The Servant bows and leaves. We follow him through: INT. MUSIC ROOM IN SALIERI'S APARTMENT - NIGHT - 1780'S The Servant crosses it and enters: INT. SALON IN SALIERI'S APARTMENT - NIGHT - 1780'S Constanze is sitting on an upright chair, veiled as before, the portfolio of music on her lap. Through the far door leading from the hall, another servant is peering at her. The first servant joins him and shuts the door on the girl, leaving her alone. We stay with her. The clock ticks on the mantelpiece. We hear an old carriage pass in the street below. Nervously she lifts her veil and looks about her. Suddenly Salieri appears from the music room. He is pale and very tight. They regard each other. She smiles and rises to greet him, affecting a relaxed and warm manner, as if to put him at his ease. CONSTANZE Well, I'm here. My husband has gone to a concert. He didn't think I would enjoy it. A pause. CONSTANZE I do apologize for this afternoon. I behaved like a silly girl. Where shall we go? SALIERI What? CONSTANZE Should we stay here? It's a charming room. I love these candlesticks. Were they here earlier? I didn't notice them I suppose I was too nervous. As she talks, she extinguishes the candles in a pair of Venetian candelabra and subsequently other candles around the room. CONSTANZE Wolfgang was given some candlesticks by King George in England, but they were only wood. Oh, excuse me. Let's not talk about him. What do you think of this? It's real lace. Brussels. She turns and takes off her shawl. CONSTANZE Well, it's much too good for every day. I keep saying to Wolfi, don't be so extravagant. Presents are lovely, but we can't afford them. It doesn't do any good. The more I tell him, the more he spends. Oh, excuse me! There I go again. She picks up the portfolio. CONSTANZE Do you still want to look at this? Or don't we need to bother anymore? I imagine we don't, really. She looks at him inquiringly, and drops the portfolio on the floor; pages of music pour out of it. Instantly we hear a massive chord, and the great Qui Tollis from the Mass in C Minor fills the room. To its grand and weighty sound, Constanze starts to undress, watched by the horrified Salieri. Between him and her, music is an active presence, hurting and baffling him. He opens his mouth in distress. The music pounds in his head. The candle flickers over her as she removes her clothes and prepares for his embrace. Suddenly he cries out. SALIERI Go! Go! Go! He snatches up the bell and shakes it frantically, not stopping until the two servants we saw earlier appear at the door. The music stops abruptly. They stare at the appalled and frightened Constanze, who is desperately trying to cover her nakedness. SALIERI Show this woman out! Constanze hurls herself at him. CONSTANZE You shit! You shit! You rotten shit! He seizes her wrists and thrusts her back. Then he leaves the room quickly, slamming the door behind him. Constanze turns and sees the two servants goggling at her in the room. CONSTANZE What are you staring at? Wildly, she picks up the candelabrum and throws it at them. It shatters on the floor. INT. SALIERI'S APARTMENT - BEDROOM - NIGHT - 1780'S CU, Salieri standing, his eyes shut, shaking in distress. He opens them and sees Christ across the room, staring at him from the wall. OLD SALIERI (V.O.) From now on, we are enemies, You and I! CUT TO: INT. OLD SALIERI'S HOSPITAL ROOM - NIGHT - 1823 The old man is reliving the experience. Vogler looks at him, horrified. OLD SALIERI Because You will not enter me, with all my need for you; because You scorn my attempts at virtue; because You choose for Your instrument a boastful, lustful, smutty infantile boy and give me for reward only the ability to recognize the Incarnation; because You are unjust, unfair, unkind, I will block You! I swear it! I will hinder and harm Your creature on earth as far as I am able. I will ruin Your Incarnation. CUT BACK TO: INT. SALIERI'S APARTMENT - BEDROOM - NIGHT - 1780'S CU, the fireplace. In it lies the olivewood Christ on the cross, burning. OLD SALIERI (V.O.) What use after all is Man, if not to teach God His lessons? The cross flames up and disintegrates. Salieri stares at it. CUT TO: INT. MOZART'S APARTMENT - LIVING ROOM - NIGHT - 1780'S The front door bursts open. Mozart stumbles in, followed by EMMANUEL SCHIKANEDER, three young actresses, and another man, all fairly drunk. Schikaneder (who appears everywhere accompanied by young girls) is a large, fleshy, extravagant man of about thirty-five. MOZART Stanzi! Stanzi! Stanzi-Manzi! The others laugh. MOZART Sssh! SCHIKANEDER (imitating Mozart) Stanzi-Manzi-Banzi-Wanzi! MOZART Sssh! Stay here. He walks unsteadily to the bedroom door and opens it. SCHIKANEDER (to the girls, very tipsy) Sssh! You're dishgrashful! INT. MOZART'S APARTMENT - BEDROOM - NIGHT - 1780'S Constanze lies in bed, her back turned to her husband, who comes into the room and shuts the door. MOZART (playfully) Stanzi? How's my mouse? Mouse-wouse? I'm back - puss-wuss is back! She turns around abruptly. She looks dreadful; her eyes red with weeping. Mozart is shocked. MOZART Stanzi! He approaches the bed and sits on it. Immediately she starts crying again, desperately. MOZART What's the matter? What is it? Stanzi! He holds her and she clings to him in a fierce embrace, crying a flood of tears. MOZART Stop it now. Stop it. I've brought some friends to meet you. They're next door waiting. Do we have anything to eat? They're all starving. CONSTANZE Tell them to go away. I don't want to see anybody. MOZART What's the matter with you? CONSTANZE Tell them to go! MOZART Sssh. What is it? Tell me. CONSTANZE No! MOZART Yes! CONSTANZE I love you! I love you! She starts crying again, throwing her arms around his neck. CONSTANZE I love you. Please stay with me. I'm frightened. INT. THE ROYAL PALACE - DINING ROOM - DAY - 1780'S Joseph sits eating. A butler serves him goat's milk to drink. Joseph is holding a memorandum from Salieri in his hand. Salieri stands before him. JOSEPH I don't think you understand me, Court Composer. SALIERI Majesty, I did. Believe me, it was a most agonizing. decision. But finally, I simply could not recommend Herr Mozart. JOSEPH Why not? SALIERI Well, Sire, I made some inquiries in a routine way. I was curious to know why he had so few pupils. It is rather alarming. JOSEPH Oh? With a gesture Joseph dismisses the butler, who bows and leaves the room. SALIERI Majesty, I don't like to talk against a fellow musician. JOSEPH Of course not. SALIERI I have to tell you, Mozart is not entirely to be trusted alone with young ladies. JOSEPH Really? SALIERI As a matter of fact, one of my own pupils - a very young singer - told me she was - er - well! JOSEPH Yes? SALIERI Molested, Majesty. Twice, in the course of the same lesson. A pause. JOSEPH Ah-ha. Well. There it is. INT. SALIERI'S HOUSE - STAIRCASE - VIENNA - DAY - 1780'S Salieri has just returned from the palace and is coming up the staircase. He is met by his servant. SERVANT Sir, there is a Herr Mozart waiting for you in the salon. Salieri is plainly alarmed. SALIERI What does he want? SERVANT He didn't say, sir. I told him I didn't know when you would be back, but he insisted on waiting. SALIERI Come with me. And stay in the room. He mounts the stairs. INT. SALIERI'S APARTMENT - SALON - DAY - 1780'S Mozart is waiting for Salieri, holding a portfolio. Salieri approaches him nervously. Mozart stands not belligerently, but humbly. SALIERI Herr Mozart, what brings you here? MOZART Your Excellency, you requested some specimens of my work. Here they are. I don't have to tell you how much I need your help. I truly appreciate your looking at these. I have pressures on me - financial pressures. As you know, I'm a married man now. SALIERI So you are. How is your pretty wife? MOZART She is well. She is - well, actually, I'm about to become a father! She only told me last night. You are the first to know. SALIERI I'm flattered. And congratulations to you, of course. MOZART So you see, this post is very important to me right now. Salieri looks at him in distress. SALIERI Why didn't you come to me yesterday, Mozart? This is a most painful situation. Yesterday I could have helped you. Today, I can't. MOZART Why? Here is the music. It's here. I am submitting it humbly. Isn't that what you wanted? SALIERI I have just come from the palace. The post has been filled. MOZART Filled? That's impossible! They haven't even seen my work. I need this post. Please, can't you help me? Please! SALIERI My dear Mozart, there is no one in the world I would rather help, but now it is too late. MOZART Whom did they choose? SALIERI Herr Sommer. MOZART Sommer? Herr Sommer? But the man's a fool! He's a total mediocrity. SALIERI No, no, no: he has yet to achieve mediocrity. MOZART But I can't lose this post, I simply can't! Excellency, please. Let's go to the palace, and you can explain to the Emperor that Herr Sommer is an awful choice. He could actually do musical harm to the Princess! SALIERI An implausible idea. Between you and me, no one in the world could do musical harm to the Princess Elizabeth. Mozart chuckles delightedly. Salieri offers him a glass of white dessert and a spoon. Mozart takes it absently and goes on talking. MOZART Look, I must have pupils. Without pupils I can't manage. SALIERI You don't mean to tell me you are living in poverty? MOZART No, but I'm broke. I'm always broke. I don't know why. SALIERI It has been said, my friend, that you are inclined to live somewhat above your means. MOZART How can anyone say that? We have no cook, no maid. We have no footman. Nothing at all! SALIERI How is that possible? You give concerts, don't you? I hear they are quite successful. MOZART They're stupendously successful. You can't get a seat. The only problem is none will hire me. They all want to hear me play, but they won't let me teach their daughters. As if I was some kind of fiend. I'm not a fiend! SALIERI Of course not. MOZART Do you have a daughter? SALIERI I'm afraid not. MOZART Well, could you lend me some money till you have one?

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How many times the word 'half' appears in the text?

All the same, why him? Why use Mozart to teach me lessons in humility? My heart was filling up with such hatred for that little man. For the first time in my life I began to know really violent thoughts. I couldn't stop them. VOGLER Did you try? OLD SALIERI Every day. Sometimes for hours I would pray! INT. SALIERI'S APARTMENT - BEDROOM - DAY - 1780'S The young Salieri is kneeling in desperation before the Cross. SALIERI Please! Please! Send him away, back to Salzburg. For his sake as well as mine. CU, Christ staring from the Cross. CUT BACK TO: INT. AUDIENCE HALL - ARCHBISHOP'S PALACE - SALZBURG - DAY - 1780'S We see Leopold kneeling now not to the Cross but to Archbishop Colloredo, sitting impassively on his throne. Count Arco stands beside him. Leopold is a desperate, once-handsome man of sixty, now far too much the subservient courtier. COLLOREDO No! I won't have him back. LEOPOLD But he needs to be here in Salzburg, Your Grace. He needs me and he needs you. Your protection, your understanding. COLLOREDO Hardly. LEOPOLD Oh sir, yes! He's about to make the worst mistake of his life. Some little Viennese slut is trying to trick him into marriage. I know my son. He is too simple to see the trap - and there is no one there who really cares for him. COLLOREDO I'm not surprised. Money seems to be more important to him than loyalty or friendship. He has sold himself to Vienna. Let Vienna look out for him. LEOPOLD Sir - COLLOREDO Your son is an unprincipled, spoiled, conceited brat. LEOPOLD Yes, sir, that's the truth. But don't blame him. The fault is mine. I was too indulgent with him. But not again. Never again, I promise! I implore you - let me bring him back here. I'll make him give his word to serve you faithfully. COLLOREDO And how will you make him keep it? LEOPOLD Oh, sir, he's never disobeyed me in anything. Please, Your Grace, give him one more chance. COLLOREDO You have leave to try. LEOPOLD Oh, Your Grace - I thank Your Grace! I thank you! In deepest gratitude he kisses the Archbishop's hand. He motions Leopold to rise. We hear the first dark fortissimo chord which begins the Overture to Don Giovanni: the theme associated with the character of the Commendatore. LEOPOLD (V.O.) My dear son. The second fortissimo chord sounds. INT. A BAROQUE CHURCH - DAY - 1780'S We see a huge CU, of Mozart's head, looking front and down, as if reading his father's letter. We hear Leopold's voice over this image, no longer whining and anxious, but impressive. LEOPOLD (V.O.) I write to you with urgent news. I am coming to Vienna. Take no further steps toward marriage until we meet. You are too gullible to see your own danger. As you honour the father who has devoted his entire life to yours, do as I bid, and await my coming. MOZART I will. The camera pulls back to see that he is in fact kneeling beside Constanze. A PRIEST faces them. Behind them are Madame Weber, Josefa and Sophie Weber, and a very few others. Among them, a merry looking lady in bright clothes: the BARONESS WALDSTADTEN. PRIEST And will you, Constanze Weber, take this man, Wolfgang to be your lawful husband? CONSTANZE I will. PRIEST I now pronounce you man and wife. The opening kyrie of the great Mass in C Minor is heard. Mozart and Constanze kiss. They are in tears. Madame Weber and her daughters look on approvingly. The music swells and continues under the following: INT. A ROOM IN LEOPOLD'S HOUSE - SALZBURG - NIGHT - 1780'S There is a view of a castle in background. Leopold sits alone in his room. He is reading a letter from Wolfgang. At his feet are his trunks, half-packed for the journey he will not now take. We hear Mozart's voice reading the following letter and we see, as the camera roves around the room, mementos of the young prodigy's early life: the little forte-piano made for him; the little violin made for him; an Order presented to him. We see a little starling in a wicker cage. And we see portraits of the boy on the walls, concluding with the familiar family portrait of Wolfgang and his sister Nannerl seated at the keyboard with Leopold standing, and the picture of their mother on the wall behind them. MOZART (V.O.) Most beloved father, it is done. Do not blame me that I did not wait to see your dear face. I knew you would have tried to dissuade me from my truest happiness and I could not have borne it. Your every word is precious to me. Remember how you have always told me Vienna is the City of Musicians. To conquer here is to conquer Europe! With my wife I can do it. I vow I will become regular in my habits and productive as never before. She is wonderful, Papa, and I know that you will love her. And one day soon when I am a wealthy man, you will come and live with us, and we will be so happy. I long for that day, best of Papas, and kiss your hand a hundred thousand times. The music of the Mass fades as Leopold crumples the letter in his hand. EXT. THE IMPERIAL GARDENS - VIENNA - DAY - 1780'S Salieri stands waiting, hat in hand. Beside him stands a royal servant. Behind him, gardeners are glimpsed tending the shrubs and bushes along a grassy ride. Down this ride are seen cantering two people on horseback: the Emperor Joseph and his niece, the PRINCESS ELIZABETH. They are mounted on glossy horses. The Princess rides side-saddle. Running beside her is a panting groom. The Emperor rides elegantly; his niece, a dumpy little Hapsburg girl of sixteen, like a sack of potatoes. As they draw level with Salieri they stop, and the groom holds the head of the Princess' horse. Salieri bows respectfully. JOSEPH Good morning, Court Composer. This is my niece, the Princess Elizabeth. SALIERI Your Highness. Out of breath, the Princess nods nervously. JOSEPH She has asked me to advise her on a suitable musical instructor. I think I've come up with an excellent idea. He smiles at Salieri. SALIERI Oh, Your Majesty, it would be such a tremendous honour! JOSEPH I'm thinking about Herr Mozart. What is your view? Salieri's face falls, almost imperceptibly. SALIERI An interesting idea, Majesty. But - JOSEPH Yes? SALIERI You already commissioned an opera from Mozart. JOSEPH And the result satisfies. SALIERI Yes, of course. My concern is to protect you from any suspicion of favouritism. JOSEPH Ah-ha. Favouritism. But I so want Mozart. SALIERI I'm sure there is a way, Majesty. Some kind of a little contest. I could perhaps put together a small Committee, and I could see to it naturally that it will select according to Your Majesty's wishes. JOSEPH You please me, Court Composer. A very clever idea. SALIERI (bowing) Sire. JOSEPH Well. There it is. He rides on. The groom releases her horse's head, and runs on after the Princess. CUT TO: INT. CHAMBERLAIN VON STRACK'S STUDY - DAY - 1780'S Von Strack sits stiffly behind his gilded desk. Mozart stands before him, trembling with anger. MOZART What is this, Herr Chamberlain? VON STRACK What is what? MOZART Why do I have to submit samples of my work to some stupid committee? Just to teach a sixteen-year-old girl. VON STRACK Because His Majesty wishes it. MOZART Is the Emperor angry with me? VON STRACK On the contrary. MOZART Then why doesn't he simply appoint me to the post? VON STRACK Mozart, you are not the only composer in Vienna. MOZART No, but I'm the best. VON STRACK A little modesty would suit you better. MOZART Who is on this committee? VON STRACK Kapellmeister Bonno, Count Orsini- Rosenberg and Court Composer Salieri. MOZART Naturally, the Italians! Of course! Always the Italians! VON STRACK Mozart - MOZART They hate my music. It terrifies them. The only sound Italians understand is banality. Tonic and dominant, tonic and dominant, from here to Resurrection! (singing angrily) Ba-ba! Ba-ba! Ba-ba! Ba-ba! Anything else is morbid. VON STRACK Mozart - MOZART Show them one interesting modulation and they faint. Ohime! Morbidezza! Morbidezza! Italians are musical idiots and you want them to judge my music! VON STRACK Look, young man, the issue is simple. If you want this post, you must submit your stuff in the same way as all your colleagues. MOZART Must I? Well, I won't! I tell you straight: I will not! CUT TO: INT. MOZART'S APARTMENT - BEDROOM - VIENNA - DAY - 1780'S The room is very small and untidy. Constanze is marching up and down it, upset. Mozart is lying on the bed. CONSTANZE I think you're mad! You're really mad! MOZART Oh, leave me alone. CONSTANZE One royal pupil and the whole of Vienna will come flocking. We'd be set up for life! MOZART They'll come anyway. They love me here. CONSTANZE No, they will not. I know how things work in this city. MOZART Oh yes? You always know everything. CONSTANZE Well, I'm not borrowing any more money from my mother, and that's that! MOZART You borrowed money from your mother? CONSTANZE Yes! MOZART Well, don't do that again! CONSTANZE How are we going to live, Wolfi? Do you want me to go into the streets and beg? MOZART Don't be stupid. CONSTANZE All they want to see is your work. What's wrong with that? MOZART Shut up! Just shut up! I don't need them. CONSTANZE This isn't pride. It's sheer stupidity! She glares at him, almost in tears. CUT TO: INT. SALIERI'S MUSIC ROOM - LATE AFTERNOON - 1780'S Salieri is giving a lesson to a girl student, who is singing the Italian art song, Caro Mio Ben. There is a knock on the door. SALIERI Yes. A SERVANT enters. SERVANT Excuse me, sir, there is a lady who insists on talking to you. SALIERI Who is she? SERVANT She didn't say. But she says it's urgent. SALIERI (to the pupil) Excuse me, my dear. Salieri goes into the salon. CUT TO: INT. THE SALON - LATE AFTERNOON - 1780'S Constanze stands, closely veiled, holding a portfolio stuffed with manuscripts. The singing lesson ends, with two chords on the instrument. Salieri enters the salon. Constanze drops him a shy curtsey. CONSTANZE Excellency! SALIERI Madame. How can I help you? Shyly, she unveils. SALIERI Frau Mozart? CONSTANZE That's right, Your Excellency. I've come on behalf of my hus band. I'm - I'm bringing some samples of his work so he can be considered for the royal appointment. SALIERI How charming. But why did he not come himself? CONSTANZE He's terribly busy, sir. SALIERI I understand. He takes the portfolio and puts it on a table. SALIERI I will look at them, of course, the moment I can. It will be an honour. Please give him my warmest. CONSTANZE Would it be too much trouble, sir, to ask you to look at them now? While I wait. SALIERI I'm afraid I'm not at leisure this very moment. Just leave them with me. I assure you they will be quite safe. CONSTANZE I - I really cannot do that, Your Excellency. You see, he doesn't know I'm here. SALIERI Really? CONSTANZE My husband is a proud man, sir. He would be furious if he knew I'd come. SALIERI Then he didn't send you? CONSTANZE No, sir. This is my own idea. SALIERI I see. CONSTANZE Sir, we really need this job. We're desperate. My husband spends far more than he can ever earn. I don't mean he's lazy - he's not at all - he works all day long. It's just! he's not practical. Money simply slips through his fingers, it's really ridiculous, Your Excellency. I know you help musicians. You're famous for it. Give him just this one post. We'd be forever indebted! A short pause. SALIERI Let me offer you some refreshment. Do you know what these are? He indicates a dish piled high with glazed chestnuts. SALIERI Cappezzoli di Venere. Nipples of Venus. Roman chestnuts in brandied sugar. Won't you try one? They're quite surprising. He offers her the dish. She takes one and puts it in her mouth. He watches carefully. CONSTANZE Oh! They're wonderful. He takes one himself. We notice on his finger a heavy gold signet-ring. CONSTANZE Thank you very much, Your Excellency. SALIERI Don't keep calling me that. It puts me at such a distance. I was not born a Court Composer, you know. I'm from a small town, just like your husband. He smiles at her. She takes another chestnut. SALIERI Are you sure you can't leave that music, and come back again? I have other things you might like. CONSTANZE That's very tempting, but it's impossible, I'm afraid. Wolfi would be frantic if he found those were missing. You see, they're all originals. SALIERI Originals? CONSTANZE Yes. A pause. He puts out his hand and takes up the portfolio from the table. He opens it. He looks at the music. He is puzzled. SALIERI These are originals? CONSTANZE Yes, sir. He doesn't make copies. CUT TO: INT. OLD SALIERI'S HOSPITAL ROOM - NIGHT - 1823 The old man faces the Priest. OLD SALIERI Astounding! It was actually beyond belief. These were first and only drafts of music yet they showed no corrections of any kind. Not one. Do you realize what that meant? Vogler stares at him. OLD SALIERI He'd simply put down music already finished in his head. Page after page of it, as if he was just taking dictation. And music finished as no music is ever finished. INT. SALIERI'S SALON - LATE AFTERNOON - 1780'S CU, The manuscript in Mozart's handwriting. The music begins to sound under the following: OLD SALIERI (V.O.) Displace one note and there would be diminishment. Displace one phrase, and the structure would fall. It was clear to me. That sound I had heard in the Archbishop's palace had been no accident. Here again was the very voice of God! I was staring through the cage of those meticulous ink- strokes at an absolute, inimitable beauty. The music swells. What we now hear is an amazing collage of great passages from Mozart's music, ravishing to Salieri and to us. The Court Composer, oblivious to Constanze, who sits happily chewing chestnuts, her mouth covered in sugar, walks around and around his salon, reading the pages and dropping them on the floor when he is done with them. We see his agonized and wondering face: he shudders as if in a rough and tumbling sea; he experiences the point where beauty and great pain coalesce. More pages fall than he can read, scattering across the floor in a white cascade, as he circles the room. Finally, we hear the tremendous Qui Tollis from the Mass in C Minor. It seems to break over him like a wave and, unable to bear any more of it, he slams the portfolio shut. Instantly, the music breaks off, reverberating in his head. He stands shaking, staring wildly. Constanze gets up, perplexed. CONSTANZE Is it no good? A pause. SALIERI It is miraculous. CONSTANZE Oh yes. He's really proud of his work. Another pause. CONSTANZE So, will you help him? Salieri tries to recover himself. SALIERI Tomorrow night I dine with the Emperor. One word from me and the post is his. CONSTANZE Oh, thank you, sir! Overjoyed, she stops and kisses his hand. He raises her - and then clasps her to him clumsily. She pushes herself away. SALIERI Come back tonight. CONSTANZE Tonight? SALIERI Alone. CONSTANZE What for? SALIERI Some service deserves service in return. No? CONSTANZE What do you mean? SALIERI Isn't it obvious? They stare at one another: Constanze in total disbelief. SALIERI It's a post all Vienna seeks. If you want it for your husband, come tonight. CONSTANZE But! I'm a married woman! SALIERI Then don't. It's up to you. Not to be vague, that is the price. He glares at her. SALIERI Yes. He rings a silver bell for a servant and abruptly leaves the roam. Constanze stares after him, horrified. The servant enters. Shocked and stunned, Constanze goes down an her knees and starts picking up the music from the floor. CUT TO: INT. OLD SALIERI'S HOSPITAL ROOM - NIGHT - 1823 CU, Father Vogler, horrified. OLD SALIERI Yes, Father. Yes! So much for my vow of chastity. What did it matter? Good, patient, hard-working, chaste - what did it matter? Had goodness made me a good composer? I realized it absolutely then - that moment: goodness is nothing in the furnace of art. And I was nothing to God. VOGLER (crying out) You cannot say that! OLD SALIERI No? Was Mozart a good man? VOGLER God's ways are not yours. And you are not here to question Him. Offer him the salt of penitence. He will give you back the bread of eternal life. He is all merciful. That is all you need to know. OLD SALIERI All I ever wanted was to sing to Him. That's His doing, isn't it? He gave me that longing - then made me mute. Why? Tell me that. If He didn't want me to serve Him with music, why implant the desire, like a lust in my body, then deny me the talent? Go on, tell me! Speak for Him! VOGLER My son, no one can speak for God. OLD SALIERI Oh? I thought you did so every day. So speak now. Answer me! VOGLER I do not claim to unravel the mysteries. I treasure them. As you should. OLD SALIERI (impatiently) Oh yes, yes, yes, yes, yes! Always the same stale answers! (intimately to the priest) There is no God of Mercy, Father. Just a God of torture. CUT TO: INT. SALIERI'S APARTMENT - BEDROOM - NIGHT - 1780'S Salieri sits at his desk, staring up at the cross. OLD SALIERI (V.O.) Evening came to that room. I sat there not knowing whether the girl would return or not. I prayed as I'd never prayed before. SALIERI Dear God, enter me now. Fill me with one piece of true music. One piece with your breath in it, so I know that you love me. Please. Just one. Show me one sign of your favour, and I will show mine to Mozart and his wife. I will get him the royal position, and if she comes, I'll receive her with all respect and send her home in joy. Enter me! Enter me! Please! Te imploro. Long, long silence. Salieri stares at the cross. Christ stares back at him impassively. Finally in this silence we hear a faint knocking at the door. Salieri stirs himself. A servant appears. SERVANT That lady is back, sir. SALIERI Show her in. Then go to bed. The Servant bows and leaves. We follow him through: INT. MUSIC ROOM IN SALIERI'S APARTMENT - NIGHT - 1780'S The Servant crosses it and enters: INT. SALON IN SALIERI'S APARTMENT - NIGHT - 1780'S Constanze is sitting on an upright chair, veiled as before, the portfolio of music on her lap. Through the far door leading from the hall, another servant is peering at her. The first servant joins him and shuts the door on the girl, leaving her alone. We stay with her. The clock ticks on the mantelpiece. We hear an old carriage pass in the street below. Nervously she lifts her veil and looks about her. Suddenly Salieri appears from the music room. He is pale and very tight. They regard each other. She smiles and rises to greet him, affecting a relaxed and warm manner, as if to put him at his ease. CONSTANZE Well, I'm here. My husband has gone to a concert. He didn't think I would enjoy it. A pause. CONSTANZE I do apologize for this afternoon. I behaved like a silly girl. Where shall we go? SALIERI What? CONSTANZE Should we stay here? It's a charming room. I love these candlesticks. Were they here earlier? I didn't notice them I suppose I was too nervous. As she talks, she extinguishes the candles in a pair of Venetian candelabra and subsequently other candles around the room. CONSTANZE Wolfgang was given some candlesticks by King George in England, but they were only wood. Oh, excuse me. Let's not talk about him. What do you think of this? It's real lace. Brussels. She turns and takes off her shawl. CONSTANZE Well, it's much too good for every day. I keep saying to Wolfi, don't be so extravagant. Presents are lovely, but we can't afford them. It doesn't do any good. The more I tell him, the more he spends. Oh, excuse me! There I go again. She picks up the portfolio. CONSTANZE Do you still want to look at this? Or don't we need to bother anymore? I imagine we don't, really. She looks at him inquiringly, and drops the portfolio on the floor; pages of music pour out of it. Instantly we hear a massive chord, and the great Qui Tollis from the Mass in C Minor fills the room. To its grand and weighty sound, Constanze starts to undress, watched by the horrified Salieri. Between him and her, music is an active presence, hurting and baffling him. He opens his mouth in distress. The music pounds in his head. The candle flickers over her as she removes her clothes and prepares for his embrace. Suddenly he cries out. SALIERI Go! Go! Go! He snatches up the bell and shakes it frantically, not stopping until the two servants we saw earlier appear at the door. The music stops abruptly. They stare at the appalled and frightened Constanze, who is desperately trying to cover her nakedness. SALIERI Show this woman out! Constanze hurls herself at him. CONSTANZE You shit! You shit! You rotten shit! He seizes her wrists and thrusts her back. Then he leaves the room quickly, slamming the door behind him. Constanze turns and sees the two servants goggling at her in the room. CONSTANZE What are you staring at? Wildly, she picks up the candelabrum and throws it at them. It shatters on the floor. INT. SALIERI'S APARTMENT - BEDROOM - NIGHT - 1780'S CU, Salieri standing, his eyes shut, shaking in distress. He opens them and sees Christ across the room, staring at him from the wall. OLD SALIERI (V.O.) From now on, we are enemies, You and I! CUT TO: INT. OLD SALIERI'S HOSPITAL ROOM - NIGHT - 1823 The old man is reliving the experience. Vogler looks at him, horrified. OLD SALIERI Because You will not enter me, with all my need for you; because You scorn my attempts at virtue; because You choose for Your instrument a boastful, lustful, smutty infantile boy and give me for reward only the ability to recognize the Incarnation; because You are unjust, unfair, unkind, I will block You! I swear it! I will hinder and harm Your creature on earth as far as I am able. I will ruin Your Incarnation. CUT BACK TO: INT. SALIERI'S APARTMENT - BEDROOM - NIGHT - 1780'S CU, the fireplace. In it lies the olivewood Christ on the cross, burning. OLD SALIERI (V.O.) What use after all is Man, if not to teach God His lessons? The cross flames up and disintegrates. Salieri stares at it. CUT TO: INT. MOZART'S APARTMENT - LIVING ROOM - NIGHT - 1780'S The front door bursts open. Mozart stumbles in, followed by EMMANUEL SCHIKANEDER, three young actresses, and another man, all fairly drunk. Schikaneder (who appears everywhere accompanied by young girls) is a large, fleshy, extravagant man of about thirty-five. MOZART Stanzi! Stanzi! Stanzi-Manzi! The others laugh. MOZART Sssh! SCHIKANEDER (imitating Mozart) Stanzi-Manzi-Banzi-Wanzi! MOZART Sssh! Stay here. He walks unsteadily to the bedroom door and opens it. SCHIKANEDER (to the girls, very tipsy) Sssh! You're dishgrashful! INT. MOZART'S APARTMENT - BEDROOM - NIGHT - 1780'S Constanze lies in bed, her back turned to her husband, who comes into the room and shuts the door. MOZART (playfully) Stanzi? How's my mouse? Mouse-wouse? I'm back - puss-wuss is back! She turns around abruptly. She looks dreadful; her eyes red with weeping. Mozart is shocked. MOZART Stanzi! He approaches the bed and sits on it. Immediately she starts crying again, desperately. MOZART What's the matter? What is it? Stanzi! He holds her and she clings to him in a fierce embrace, crying a flood of tears. MOZART Stop it now. Stop it. I've brought some friends to meet you. They're next door waiting. Do we have anything to eat? They're all starving. CONSTANZE Tell them to go away. I don't want to see anybody. MOZART What's the matter with you? CONSTANZE Tell them to go! MOZART Sssh. What is it? Tell me. CONSTANZE No! MOZART Yes! CONSTANZE I love you! I love you! She starts crying again, throwing her arms around his neck. CONSTANZE I love you. Please stay with me. I'm frightened. INT. THE ROYAL PALACE - DINING ROOM - DAY - 1780'S Joseph sits eating. A butler serves him goat's milk to drink. Joseph is holding a memorandum from Salieri in his hand. Salieri stands before him. JOSEPH I don't think you understand me, Court Composer. SALIERI Majesty, I did. Believe me, it was a most agonizing. decision. But finally, I simply could not recommend Herr Mozart. JOSEPH Why not? SALIERI Well, Sire, I made some inquiries in a routine way. I was curious to know why he had so few pupils. It is rather alarming. JOSEPH Oh? With a gesture Joseph dismisses the butler, who bows and leaves the room. SALIERI Majesty, I don't like to talk against a fellow musician. JOSEPH Of course not. SALIERI I have to tell you, Mozart is not entirely to be trusted alone with young ladies. JOSEPH Really? SALIERI As a matter of fact, one of my own pupils - a very young singer - told me she was - er - well! JOSEPH Yes? SALIERI Molested, Majesty. Twice, in the course of the same lesson. A pause. JOSEPH Ah-ha. Well. There it is. INT. SALIERI'S HOUSE - STAIRCASE - VIENNA - DAY - 1780'S Salieri has just returned from the palace and is coming up the staircase. He is met by his servant. SERVANT Sir, there is a Herr Mozart waiting for you in the salon. Salieri is plainly alarmed. SALIERI What does he want? SERVANT He didn't say, sir. I told him I didn't know when you would be back, but he insisted on waiting. SALIERI Come with me. And stay in the room. He mounts the stairs. INT. SALIERI'S APARTMENT - SALON - DAY - 1780'S Mozart is waiting for Salieri, holding a portfolio. Salieri approaches him nervously. Mozart stands not belligerently, but humbly. SALIERI Herr Mozart, what brings you here? MOZART Your Excellency, you requested some specimens of my work. Here they are. I don't have to tell you how much I need your help. I truly appreciate your looking at these. I have pressures on me - financial pressures. As you know, I'm a married man now. SALIERI So you are. How is your pretty wife? MOZART She is well. She is - well, actually, I'm about to become a father! She only told me last night. You are the first to know. SALIERI I'm flattered. And congratulations to you, of course. MOZART So you see, this post is very important to me right now. Salieri looks at him in distress. SALIERI Why didn't you come to me yesterday, Mozart? This is a most painful situation. Yesterday I could have helped you. Today, I can't. MOZART Why? Here is the music. It's here. I am submitting it humbly. Isn't that what you wanted? SALIERI I have just come from the palace. The post has been filled. MOZART Filled? That's impossible! They haven't even seen my work. I need this post. Please, can't you help me? Please! SALIERI My dear Mozart, there is no one in the world I would rather help, but now it is too late. MOZART Whom did they choose? SALIERI Herr Sommer. MOZART Sommer? Herr Sommer? But the man's a fool! He's a total mediocrity. SALIERI No, no, no: he has yet to achieve mediocrity. MOZART But I can't lose this post, I simply can't! Excellency, please. Let's go to the palace, and you can explain to the Emperor that Herr Sommer is an awful choice. He could actually do musical harm to the Princess! SALIERI An implausible idea. Between you and me, no one in the world could do musical harm to the Princess Elizabeth. Mozart chuckles delightedly. Salieri offers him a glass of white dessert and a spoon. Mozart takes it absently and goes on talking. MOZART Look, I must have pupils. Without pupils I can't manage. SALIERI You don't mean to tell me you are living in poverty? MOZART No, but I'm broke. I'm always broke. I don't know why. SALIERI It has been said, my friend, that you are inclined to live somewhat above your means. MOZART How can anyone say that? We have no cook, no maid. We have no footman. Nothing at all! SALIERI How is that possible? You give concerts, don't you? I hear they are quite successful. MOZART They're stupendously successful. You can't get a seat. The only problem is none will hire me. They all want to hear me play, but they won't let me teach their daughters. As if I was some kind of fiend. I'm not a fiend! SALIERI Of course not. MOZART Do you have a daughter? SALIERI I'm afraid not. MOZART Well, could you lend me some money till you have one?

spires

How many times the word 'spires' appears in the text?

All the same, why him? Why use Mozart to teach me lessons in humility? My heart was filling up with such hatred for that little man. For the first time in my life I began to know really violent thoughts. I couldn't stop them. VOGLER Did you try? OLD SALIERI Every day. Sometimes for hours I would pray! INT. SALIERI'S APARTMENT - BEDROOM - DAY - 1780'S The young Salieri is kneeling in desperation before the Cross. SALIERI Please! Please! Send him away, back to Salzburg. For his sake as well as mine. CU, Christ staring from the Cross. CUT BACK TO: INT. AUDIENCE HALL - ARCHBISHOP'S PALACE - SALZBURG - DAY - 1780'S We see Leopold kneeling now not to the Cross but to Archbishop Colloredo, sitting impassively on his throne. Count Arco stands beside him. Leopold is a desperate, once-handsome man of sixty, now far too much the subservient courtier. COLLOREDO No! I won't have him back. LEOPOLD But he needs to be here in Salzburg, Your Grace. He needs me and he needs you. Your protection, your understanding. COLLOREDO Hardly. LEOPOLD Oh sir, yes! He's about to make the worst mistake of his life. Some little Viennese slut is trying to trick him into marriage. I know my son. He is too simple to see the trap - and there is no one there who really cares for him. COLLOREDO I'm not surprised. Money seems to be more important to him than loyalty or friendship. He has sold himself to Vienna. Let Vienna look out for him. LEOPOLD Sir - COLLOREDO Your son is an unprincipled, spoiled, conceited brat. LEOPOLD Yes, sir, that's the truth. But don't blame him. The fault is mine. I was too indulgent with him. But not again. Never again, I promise! I implore you - let me bring him back here. I'll make him give his word to serve you faithfully. COLLOREDO And how will you make him keep it? LEOPOLD Oh, sir, he's never disobeyed me in anything. Please, Your Grace, give him one more chance. COLLOREDO You have leave to try. LEOPOLD Oh, Your Grace - I thank Your Grace! I thank you! In deepest gratitude he kisses the Archbishop's hand. He motions Leopold to rise. We hear the first dark fortissimo chord which begins the Overture to Don Giovanni: the theme associated with the character of the Commendatore. LEOPOLD (V.O.) My dear son. The second fortissimo chord sounds. INT. A BAROQUE CHURCH - DAY - 1780'S We see a huge CU, of Mozart's head, looking front and down, as if reading his father's letter. We hear Leopold's voice over this image, no longer whining and anxious, but impressive. LEOPOLD (V.O.) I write to you with urgent news. I am coming to Vienna. Take no further steps toward marriage until we meet. You are too gullible to see your own danger. As you honour the father who has devoted his entire life to yours, do as I bid, and await my coming. MOZART I will. The camera pulls back to see that he is in fact kneeling beside Constanze. A PRIEST faces them. Behind them are Madame Weber, Josefa and Sophie Weber, and a very few others. Among them, a merry looking lady in bright clothes: the BARONESS WALDSTADTEN. PRIEST And will you, Constanze Weber, take this man, Wolfgang to be your lawful husband? CONSTANZE I will. PRIEST I now pronounce you man and wife. The opening kyrie of the great Mass in C Minor is heard. Mozart and Constanze kiss. They are in tears. Madame Weber and her daughters look on approvingly. The music swells and continues under the following: INT. A ROOM IN LEOPOLD'S HOUSE - SALZBURG - NIGHT - 1780'S There is a view of a castle in background. Leopold sits alone in his room. He is reading a letter from Wolfgang. At his feet are his trunks, half-packed for the journey he will not now take. We hear Mozart's voice reading the following letter and we see, as the camera roves around the room, mementos of the young prodigy's early life: the little forte-piano made for him; the little violin made for him; an Order presented to him. We see a little starling in a wicker cage. And we see portraits of the boy on the walls, concluding with the familiar family portrait of Wolfgang and his sister Nannerl seated at the keyboard with Leopold standing, and the picture of their mother on the wall behind them. MOZART (V.O.) Most beloved father, it is done. Do not blame me that I did not wait to see your dear face. I knew you would have tried to dissuade me from my truest happiness and I could not have borne it. Your every word is precious to me. Remember how you have always told me Vienna is the City of Musicians. To conquer here is to conquer Europe! With my wife I can do it. I vow I will become regular in my habits and productive as never before. She is wonderful, Papa, and I know that you will love her. And one day soon when I am a wealthy man, you will come and live with us, and we will be so happy. I long for that day, best of Papas, and kiss your hand a hundred thousand times. The music of the Mass fades as Leopold crumples the letter in his hand. EXT. THE IMPERIAL GARDENS - VIENNA - DAY - 1780'S Salieri stands waiting, hat in hand. Beside him stands a royal servant. Behind him, gardeners are glimpsed tending the shrubs and bushes along a grassy ride. Down this ride are seen cantering two people on horseback: the Emperor Joseph and his niece, the PRINCESS ELIZABETH. They are mounted on glossy horses. The Princess rides side-saddle. Running beside her is a panting groom. The Emperor rides elegantly; his niece, a dumpy little Hapsburg girl of sixteen, like a sack of potatoes. As they draw level with Salieri they stop, and the groom holds the head of the Princess' horse. Salieri bows respectfully. JOSEPH Good morning, Court Composer. This is my niece, the Princess Elizabeth. SALIERI Your Highness. Out of breath, the Princess nods nervously. JOSEPH She has asked me to advise her on a suitable musical instructor. I think I've come up with an excellent idea. He smiles at Salieri. SALIERI Oh, Your Majesty, it would be such a tremendous honour! JOSEPH I'm thinking about Herr Mozart. What is your view? Salieri's face falls, almost imperceptibly. SALIERI An interesting idea, Majesty. But - JOSEPH Yes? SALIERI You already commissioned an opera from Mozart. JOSEPH And the result satisfies. SALIERI Yes, of course. My concern is to protect you from any suspicion of favouritism. JOSEPH Ah-ha. Favouritism. But I so want Mozart. SALIERI I'm sure there is a way, Majesty. Some kind of a little contest. I could perhaps put together a small Committee, and I could see to it naturally that it will select according to Your Majesty's wishes. JOSEPH You please me, Court Composer. A very clever idea. SALIERI (bowing) Sire. JOSEPH Well. There it is. He rides on. The groom releases her horse's head, and runs on after the Princess. CUT TO: INT. CHAMBERLAIN VON STRACK'S STUDY - DAY - 1780'S Von Strack sits stiffly behind his gilded desk. Mozart stands before him, trembling with anger. MOZART What is this, Herr Chamberlain? VON STRACK What is what? MOZART Why do I have to submit samples of my work to some stupid committee? Just to teach a sixteen-year-old girl. VON STRACK Because His Majesty wishes it. MOZART Is the Emperor angry with me? VON STRACK On the contrary. MOZART Then why doesn't he simply appoint me to the post? VON STRACK Mozart, you are not the only composer in Vienna. MOZART No, but I'm the best. VON STRACK A little modesty would suit you better. MOZART Who is on this committee? VON STRACK Kapellmeister Bonno, Count Orsini- Rosenberg and Court Composer Salieri. MOZART Naturally, the Italians! Of course! Always the Italians! VON STRACK Mozart - MOZART They hate my music. It terrifies them. The only sound Italians understand is banality. Tonic and dominant, tonic and dominant, from here to Resurrection! (singing angrily) Ba-ba! Ba-ba! Ba-ba! Ba-ba! Anything else is morbid. VON STRACK Mozart - MOZART Show them one interesting modulation and they faint. Ohime! Morbidezza! Morbidezza! Italians are musical idiots and you want them to judge my music! VON STRACK Look, young man, the issue is simple. If you want this post, you must submit your stuff in the same way as all your colleagues. MOZART Must I? Well, I won't! I tell you straight: I will not! CUT TO: INT. MOZART'S APARTMENT - BEDROOM - VIENNA - DAY - 1780'S The room is very small and untidy. Constanze is marching up and down it, upset. Mozart is lying on the bed. CONSTANZE I think you're mad! You're really mad! MOZART Oh, leave me alone. CONSTANZE One royal pupil and the whole of Vienna will come flocking. We'd be set up for life! MOZART They'll come anyway. They love me here. CONSTANZE No, they will not. I know how things work in this city. MOZART Oh yes? You always know everything. CONSTANZE Well, I'm not borrowing any more money from my mother, and that's that! MOZART You borrowed money from your mother? CONSTANZE Yes! MOZART Well, don't do that again! CONSTANZE How are we going to live, Wolfi? Do you want me to go into the streets and beg? MOZART Don't be stupid. CONSTANZE All they want to see is your work. What's wrong with that? MOZART Shut up! Just shut up! I don't need them. CONSTANZE This isn't pride. It's sheer stupidity! She glares at him, almost in tears. CUT TO: INT. SALIERI'S MUSIC ROOM - LATE AFTERNOON - 1780'S Salieri is giving a lesson to a girl student, who is singing the Italian art song, Caro Mio Ben. There is a knock on the door. SALIERI Yes. A SERVANT enters. SERVANT Excuse me, sir, there is a lady who insists on talking to you. SALIERI Who is she? SERVANT She didn't say. But she says it's urgent. SALIERI (to the pupil) Excuse me, my dear. Salieri goes into the salon. CUT TO: INT. THE SALON - LATE AFTERNOON - 1780'S Constanze stands, closely veiled, holding a portfolio stuffed with manuscripts. The singing lesson ends, with two chords on the instrument. Salieri enters the salon. Constanze drops him a shy curtsey. CONSTANZE Excellency! SALIERI Madame. How can I help you? Shyly, she unveils. SALIERI Frau Mozart? CONSTANZE That's right, Your Excellency. I've come on behalf of my hus band. I'm - I'm bringing some samples of his work so he can be considered for the royal appointment. SALIERI How charming. But why did he not come himself? CONSTANZE He's terribly busy, sir. SALIERI I understand. He takes the portfolio and puts it on a table. SALIERI I will look at them, of course, the moment I can. It will be an honour. Please give him my warmest. CONSTANZE Would it be too much trouble, sir, to ask you to look at them now? While I wait. SALIERI I'm afraid I'm not at leisure this very moment. Just leave them with me. I assure you they will be quite safe. CONSTANZE I - I really cannot do that, Your Excellency. You see, he doesn't know I'm here. SALIERI Really? CONSTANZE My husband is a proud man, sir. He would be furious if he knew I'd come. SALIERI Then he didn't send you? CONSTANZE No, sir. This is my own idea. SALIERI I see. CONSTANZE Sir, we really need this job. We're desperate. My husband spends far more than he can ever earn. I don't mean he's lazy - he's not at all - he works all day long. It's just! he's not practical. Money simply slips through his fingers, it's really ridiculous, Your Excellency. I know you help musicians. You're famous for it. Give him just this one post. We'd be forever indebted! A short pause. SALIERI Let me offer you some refreshment. Do you know what these are? He indicates a dish piled high with glazed chestnuts. SALIERI Cappezzoli di Venere. Nipples of Venus. Roman chestnuts in brandied sugar. Won't you try one? They're quite surprising. He offers her the dish. She takes one and puts it in her mouth. He watches carefully. CONSTANZE Oh! They're wonderful. He takes one himself. We notice on his finger a heavy gold signet-ring. CONSTANZE Thank you very much, Your Excellency. SALIERI Don't keep calling me that. It puts me at such a distance. I was not born a Court Composer, you know. I'm from a small town, just like your husband. He smiles at her. She takes another chestnut. SALIERI Are you sure you can't leave that music, and come back again? I have other things you might like. CONSTANZE That's very tempting, but it's impossible, I'm afraid. Wolfi would be frantic if he found those were missing. You see, they're all originals. SALIERI Originals? CONSTANZE Yes. A pause. He puts out his hand and takes up the portfolio from the table. He opens it. He looks at the music. He is puzzled. SALIERI These are originals? CONSTANZE Yes, sir. He doesn't make copies. CUT TO: INT. OLD SALIERI'S HOSPITAL ROOM - NIGHT - 1823 The old man faces the Priest. OLD SALIERI Astounding! It was actually beyond belief. These were first and only drafts of music yet they showed no corrections of any kind. Not one. Do you realize what that meant? Vogler stares at him. OLD SALIERI He'd simply put down music already finished in his head. Page after page of it, as if he was just taking dictation. And music finished as no music is ever finished. INT. SALIERI'S SALON - LATE AFTERNOON - 1780'S CU, The manuscript in Mozart's handwriting. The music begins to sound under the following: OLD SALIERI (V.O.) Displace one note and there would be diminishment. Displace one phrase, and the structure would fall. It was clear to me. That sound I had heard in the Archbishop's palace had been no accident. Here again was the very voice of God! I was staring through the cage of those meticulous ink- strokes at an absolute, inimitable beauty. The music swells. What we now hear is an amazing collage of great passages from Mozart's music, ravishing to Salieri and to us. The Court Composer, oblivious to Constanze, who sits happily chewing chestnuts, her mouth covered in sugar, walks around and around his salon, reading the pages and dropping them on the floor when he is done with them. We see his agonized and wondering face: he shudders as if in a rough and tumbling sea; he experiences the point where beauty and great pain coalesce. More pages fall than he can read, scattering across the floor in a white cascade, as he circles the room. Finally, we hear the tremendous Qui Tollis from the Mass in C Minor. It seems to break over him like a wave and, unable to bear any more of it, he slams the portfolio shut. Instantly, the music breaks off, reverberating in his head. He stands shaking, staring wildly. Constanze gets up, perplexed. CONSTANZE Is it no good? A pause. SALIERI It is miraculous. CONSTANZE Oh yes. He's really proud of his work. Another pause. CONSTANZE So, will you help him? Salieri tries to recover himself. SALIERI Tomorrow night I dine with the Emperor. One word from me and the post is his. CONSTANZE Oh, thank you, sir! Overjoyed, she stops and kisses his hand. He raises her - and then clasps her to him clumsily. She pushes herself away. SALIERI Come back tonight. CONSTANZE Tonight? SALIERI Alone. CONSTANZE What for? SALIERI Some service deserves service in return. No? CONSTANZE What do you mean? SALIERI Isn't it obvious? They stare at one another: Constanze in total disbelief. SALIERI It's a post all Vienna seeks. If you want it for your husband, come tonight. CONSTANZE But! I'm a married woman! SALIERI Then don't. It's up to you. Not to be vague, that is the price. He glares at her. SALIERI Yes. He rings a silver bell for a servant and abruptly leaves the roam. Constanze stares after him, horrified. The servant enters. Shocked and stunned, Constanze goes down an her knees and starts picking up the music from the floor. CUT TO: INT. OLD SALIERI'S HOSPITAL ROOM - NIGHT - 1823 CU, Father Vogler, horrified. OLD SALIERI Yes, Father. Yes! So much for my vow of chastity. What did it matter? Good, patient, hard-working, chaste - what did it matter? Had goodness made me a good composer? I realized it absolutely then - that moment: goodness is nothing in the furnace of art. And I was nothing to God. VOGLER (crying out) You cannot say that! OLD SALIERI No? Was Mozart a good man? VOGLER God's ways are not yours. And you are not here to question Him. Offer him the salt of penitence. He will give you back the bread of eternal life. He is all merciful. That is all you need to know. OLD SALIERI All I ever wanted was to sing to Him. That's His doing, isn't it? He gave me that longing - then made me mute. Why? Tell me that. If He didn't want me to serve Him with music, why implant the desire, like a lust in my body, then deny me the talent? Go on, tell me! Speak for Him! VOGLER My son, no one can speak for God. OLD SALIERI Oh? I thought you did so every day. So speak now. Answer me! VOGLER I do not claim to unravel the mysteries. I treasure them. As you should. OLD SALIERI (impatiently) Oh yes, yes, yes, yes, yes! Always the same stale answers! (intimately to the priest) There is no God of Mercy, Father. Just a God of torture. CUT TO: INT. SALIERI'S APARTMENT - BEDROOM - NIGHT - 1780'S Salieri sits at his desk, staring up at the cross. OLD SALIERI (V.O.) Evening came to that room. I sat there not knowing whether the girl would return or not. I prayed as I'd never prayed before. SALIERI Dear God, enter me now. Fill me with one piece of true music. One piece with your breath in it, so I know that you love me. Please. Just one. Show me one sign of your favour, and I will show mine to Mozart and his wife. I will get him the royal position, and if she comes, I'll receive her with all respect and send her home in joy. Enter me! Enter me! Please! Te imploro. Long, long silence. Salieri stares at the cross. Christ stares back at him impassively. Finally in this silence we hear a faint knocking at the door. Salieri stirs himself. A servant appears. SERVANT That lady is back, sir. SALIERI Show her in. Then go to bed. The Servant bows and leaves. We follow him through: INT. MUSIC ROOM IN SALIERI'S APARTMENT - NIGHT - 1780'S The Servant crosses it and enters: INT. SALON IN SALIERI'S APARTMENT - NIGHT - 1780'S Constanze is sitting on an upright chair, veiled as before, the portfolio of music on her lap. Through the far door leading from the hall, another servant is peering at her. The first servant joins him and shuts the door on the girl, leaving her alone. We stay with her. The clock ticks on the mantelpiece. We hear an old carriage pass in the street below. Nervously she lifts her veil and looks about her. Suddenly Salieri appears from the music room. He is pale and very tight. They regard each other. She smiles and rises to greet him, affecting a relaxed and warm manner, as if to put him at his ease. CONSTANZE Well, I'm here. My husband has gone to a concert. He didn't think I would enjoy it. A pause. CONSTANZE I do apologize for this afternoon. I behaved like a silly girl. Where shall we go? SALIERI What? CONSTANZE Should we stay here? It's a charming room. I love these candlesticks. Were they here earlier? I didn't notice them I suppose I was too nervous. As she talks, she extinguishes the candles in a pair of Venetian candelabra and subsequently other candles around the room. CONSTANZE Wolfgang was given some candlesticks by King George in England, but they were only wood. Oh, excuse me. Let's not talk about him. What do you think of this? It's real lace. Brussels. She turns and takes off her shawl. CONSTANZE Well, it's much too good for every day. I keep saying to Wolfi, don't be so extravagant. Presents are lovely, but we can't afford them. It doesn't do any good. The more I tell him, the more he spends. Oh, excuse me! There I go again. She picks up the portfolio. CONSTANZE Do you still want to look at this? Or don't we need to bother anymore? I imagine we don't, really. She looks at him inquiringly, and drops the portfolio on the floor; pages of music pour out of it. Instantly we hear a massive chord, and the great Qui Tollis from the Mass in C Minor fills the room. To its grand and weighty sound, Constanze starts to undress, watched by the horrified Salieri. Between him and her, music is an active presence, hurting and baffling him. He opens his mouth in distress. The music pounds in his head. The candle flickers over her as she removes her clothes and prepares for his embrace. Suddenly he cries out. SALIERI Go! Go! Go! He snatches up the bell and shakes it frantically, not stopping until the two servants we saw earlier appear at the door. The music stops abruptly. They stare at the appalled and frightened Constanze, who is desperately trying to cover her nakedness. SALIERI Show this woman out! Constanze hurls herself at him. CONSTANZE You shit! You shit! You rotten shit! He seizes her wrists and thrusts her back. Then he leaves the room quickly, slamming the door behind him. Constanze turns and sees the two servants goggling at her in the room. CONSTANZE What are you staring at? Wildly, she picks up the candelabrum and throws it at them. It shatters on the floor. INT. SALIERI'S APARTMENT - BEDROOM - NIGHT - 1780'S CU, Salieri standing, his eyes shut, shaking in distress. He opens them and sees Christ across the room, staring at him from the wall. OLD SALIERI (V.O.) From now on, we are enemies, You and I! CUT TO: INT. OLD SALIERI'S HOSPITAL ROOM - NIGHT - 1823 The old man is reliving the experience. Vogler looks at him, horrified. OLD SALIERI Because You will not enter me, with all my need for you; because You scorn my attempts at virtue; because You choose for Your instrument a boastful, lustful, smutty infantile boy and give me for reward only the ability to recognize the Incarnation; because You are unjust, unfair, unkind, I will block You! I swear it! I will hinder and harm Your creature on earth as far as I am able. I will ruin Your Incarnation. CUT BACK TO: INT. SALIERI'S APARTMENT - BEDROOM - NIGHT - 1780'S CU, the fireplace. In it lies the olivewood Christ on the cross, burning. OLD SALIERI (V.O.) What use after all is Man, if not to teach God His lessons? The cross flames up and disintegrates. Salieri stares at it. CUT TO: INT. MOZART'S APARTMENT - LIVING ROOM - NIGHT - 1780'S The front door bursts open. Mozart stumbles in, followed by EMMANUEL SCHIKANEDER, three young actresses, and another man, all fairly drunk. Schikaneder (who appears everywhere accompanied by young girls) is a large, fleshy, extravagant man of about thirty-five. MOZART Stanzi! Stanzi! Stanzi-Manzi! The others laugh. MOZART Sssh! SCHIKANEDER (imitating Mozart) Stanzi-Manzi-Banzi-Wanzi! MOZART Sssh! Stay here. He walks unsteadily to the bedroom door and opens it. SCHIKANEDER (to the girls, very tipsy) Sssh! You're dishgrashful! INT. MOZART'S APARTMENT - BEDROOM - NIGHT - 1780'S Constanze lies in bed, her back turned to her husband, who comes into the room and shuts the door. MOZART (playfully) Stanzi? How's my mouse? Mouse-wouse? I'm back - puss-wuss is back! She turns around abruptly. She looks dreadful; her eyes red with weeping. Mozart is shocked. MOZART Stanzi! He approaches the bed and sits on it. Immediately she starts crying again, desperately. MOZART What's the matter? What is it? Stanzi! He holds her and she clings to him in a fierce embrace, crying a flood of tears. MOZART Stop it now. Stop it. I've brought some friends to meet you. They're next door waiting. Do we have anything to eat? They're all starving. CONSTANZE Tell them to go away. I don't want to see anybody. MOZART What's the matter with you? CONSTANZE Tell them to go! MOZART Sssh. What is it? Tell me. CONSTANZE No! MOZART Yes! CONSTANZE I love you! I love you! She starts crying again, throwing her arms around his neck. CONSTANZE I love you. Please stay with me. I'm frightened. INT. THE ROYAL PALACE - DINING ROOM - DAY - 1780'S Joseph sits eating. A butler serves him goat's milk to drink. Joseph is holding a memorandum from Salieri in his hand. Salieri stands before him. JOSEPH I don't think you understand me, Court Composer. SALIERI Majesty, I did. Believe me, it was a most agonizing. decision. But finally, I simply could not recommend Herr Mozart. JOSEPH Why not? SALIERI Well, Sire, I made some inquiries in a routine way. I was curious to know why he had so few pupils. It is rather alarming. JOSEPH Oh? With a gesture Joseph dismisses the butler, who bows and leaves the room. SALIERI Majesty, I don't like to talk against a fellow musician. JOSEPH Of course not. SALIERI I have to tell you, Mozart is not entirely to be trusted alone with young ladies. JOSEPH Really? SALIERI As a matter of fact, one of my own pupils - a very young singer - told me she was - er - well! JOSEPH Yes? SALIERI Molested, Majesty. Twice, in the course of the same lesson. A pause. JOSEPH Ah-ha. Well. There it is. INT. SALIERI'S HOUSE - STAIRCASE - VIENNA - DAY - 1780'S Salieri has just returned from the palace and is coming up the staircase. He is met by his servant. SERVANT Sir, there is a Herr Mozart waiting for you in the salon. Salieri is plainly alarmed. SALIERI What does he want? SERVANT He didn't say, sir. I told him I didn't know when you would be back, but he insisted on waiting. SALIERI Come with me. And stay in the room. He mounts the stairs. INT. SALIERI'S APARTMENT - SALON - DAY - 1780'S Mozart is waiting for Salieri, holding a portfolio. Salieri approaches him nervously. Mozart stands not belligerently, but humbly. SALIERI Herr Mozart, what brings you here? MOZART Your Excellency, you requested some specimens of my work. Here they are. I don't have to tell you how much I need your help. I truly appreciate your looking at these. I have pressures on me - financial pressures. As you know, I'm a married man now. SALIERI So you are. How is your pretty wife? MOZART She is well. She is - well, actually, I'm about to become a father! She only told me last night. You are the first to know. SALIERI I'm flattered. And congratulations to you, of course. MOZART So you see, this post is very important to me right now. Salieri looks at him in distress. SALIERI Why didn't you come to me yesterday, Mozart? This is a most painful situation. Yesterday I could have helped you. Today, I can't. MOZART Why? Here is the music. It's here. I am submitting it humbly. Isn't that what you wanted? SALIERI I have just come from the palace. The post has been filled. MOZART Filled? That's impossible! They haven't even seen my work. I need this post. Please, can't you help me? Please! SALIERI My dear Mozart, there is no one in the world I would rather help, but now it is too late. MOZART Whom did they choose? SALIERI Herr Sommer. MOZART Sommer? Herr Sommer? But the man's a fool! He's a total mediocrity. SALIERI No, no, no: he has yet to achieve mediocrity. MOZART But I can't lose this post, I simply can't! Excellency, please. Let's go to the palace, and you can explain to the Emperor that Herr Sommer is an awful choice. He could actually do musical harm to the Princess! SALIERI An implausible idea. Between you and me, no one in the world could do musical harm to the Princess Elizabeth. Mozart chuckles delightedly. Salieri offers him a glass of white dessert and a spoon. Mozart takes it absently and goes on talking. MOZART Look, I must have pupils. Without pupils I can't manage. SALIERI You don't mean to tell me you are living in poverty? MOZART No, but I'm broke. I'm always broke. I don't know why. SALIERI It has been said, my friend, that you are inclined to live somewhat above your means. MOZART How can anyone say that? We have no cook, no maid. We have no footman. Nothing at all! SALIERI How is that possible? You give concerts, don't you? I hear they are quite successful. MOZART They're stupendously successful. You can't get a seat. The only problem is none will hire me. They all want to hear me play, but they won't let me teach their daughters. As if I was some kind of fiend. I'm not a fiend! SALIERI Of course not. MOZART Do you have a daughter? SALIERI I'm afraid not. MOZART Well, could you lend me some money till you have one?

beloved

How many times the word 'beloved' appears in the text?

All the same, why him? Why use Mozart to teach me lessons in humility? My heart was filling up with such hatred for that little man. For the first time in my life I began to know really violent thoughts. I couldn't stop them. VOGLER Did you try? OLD SALIERI Every day. Sometimes for hours I would pray! INT. SALIERI'S APARTMENT - BEDROOM - DAY - 1780'S The young Salieri is kneeling in desperation before the Cross. SALIERI Please! Please! Send him away, back to Salzburg. For his sake as well as mine. CU, Christ staring from the Cross. CUT BACK TO: INT. AUDIENCE HALL - ARCHBISHOP'S PALACE - SALZBURG - DAY - 1780'S We see Leopold kneeling now not to the Cross but to Archbishop Colloredo, sitting impassively on his throne. Count Arco stands beside him. Leopold is a desperate, once-handsome man of sixty, now far too much the subservient courtier. COLLOREDO No! I won't have him back. LEOPOLD But he needs to be here in Salzburg, Your Grace. He needs me and he needs you. Your protection, your understanding. COLLOREDO Hardly. LEOPOLD Oh sir, yes! He's about to make the worst mistake of his life. Some little Viennese slut is trying to trick him into marriage. I know my son. He is too simple to see the trap - and there is no one there who really cares for him. COLLOREDO I'm not surprised. Money seems to be more important to him than loyalty or friendship. He has sold himself to Vienna. Let Vienna look out for him. LEOPOLD Sir - COLLOREDO Your son is an unprincipled, spoiled, conceited brat. LEOPOLD Yes, sir, that's the truth. But don't blame him. The fault is mine. I was too indulgent with him. But not again. Never again, I promise! I implore you - let me bring him back here. I'll make him give his word to serve you faithfully. COLLOREDO And how will you make him keep it? LEOPOLD Oh, sir, he's never disobeyed me in anything. Please, Your Grace, give him one more chance. COLLOREDO You have leave to try. LEOPOLD Oh, Your Grace - I thank Your Grace! I thank you! In deepest gratitude he kisses the Archbishop's hand. He motions Leopold to rise. We hear the first dark fortissimo chord which begins the Overture to Don Giovanni: the theme associated with the character of the Commendatore. LEOPOLD (V.O.) My dear son. The second fortissimo chord sounds. INT. A BAROQUE CHURCH - DAY - 1780'S We see a huge CU, of Mozart's head, looking front and down, as if reading his father's letter. We hear Leopold's voice over this image, no longer whining and anxious, but impressive. LEOPOLD (V.O.) I write to you with urgent news. I am coming to Vienna. Take no further steps toward marriage until we meet. You are too gullible to see your own danger. As you honour the father who has devoted his entire life to yours, do as I bid, and await my coming. MOZART I will. The camera pulls back to see that he is in fact kneeling beside Constanze. A PRIEST faces them. Behind them are Madame Weber, Josefa and Sophie Weber, and a very few others. Among them, a merry looking lady in bright clothes: the BARONESS WALDSTADTEN. PRIEST And will you, Constanze Weber, take this man, Wolfgang to be your lawful husband? CONSTANZE I will. PRIEST I now pronounce you man and wife. The opening kyrie of the great Mass in C Minor is heard. Mozart and Constanze kiss. They are in tears. Madame Weber and her daughters look on approvingly. The music swells and continues under the following: INT. A ROOM IN LEOPOLD'S HOUSE - SALZBURG - NIGHT - 1780'S There is a view of a castle in background. Leopold sits alone in his room. He is reading a letter from Wolfgang. At his feet are his trunks, half-packed for the journey he will not now take. We hear Mozart's voice reading the following letter and we see, as the camera roves around the room, mementos of the young prodigy's early life: the little forte-piano made for him; the little violin made for him; an Order presented to him. We see a little starling in a wicker cage. And we see portraits of the boy on the walls, concluding with the familiar family portrait of Wolfgang and his sister Nannerl seated at the keyboard with Leopold standing, and the picture of their mother on the wall behind them. MOZART (V.O.) Most beloved father, it is done. Do not blame me that I did not wait to see your dear face. I knew you would have tried to dissuade me from my truest happiness and I could not have borne it. Your every word is precious to me. Remember how you have always told me Vienna is the City of Musicians. To conquer here is to conquer Europe! With my wife I can do it. I vow I will become regular in my habits and productive as never before. She is wonderful, Papa, and I know that you will love her. And one day soon when I am a wealthy man, you will come and live with us, and we will be so happy. I long for that day, best of Papas, and kiss your hand a hundred thousand times. The music of the Mass fades as Leopold crumples the letter in his hand. EXT. THE IMPERIAL GARDENS - VIENNA - DAY - 1780'S Salieri stands waiting, hat in hand. Beside him stands a royal servant. Behind him, gardeners are glimpsed tending the shrubs and bushes along a grassy ride. Down this ride are seen cantering two people on horseback: the Emperor Joseph and his niece, the PRINCESS ELIZABETH. They are mounted on glossy horses. The Princess rides side-saddle. Running beside her is a panting groom. The Emperor rides elegantly; his niece, a dumpy little Hapsburg girl of sixteen, like a sack of potatoes. As they draw level with Salieri they stop, and the groom holds the head of the Princess' horse. Salieri bows respectfully. JOSEPH Good morning, Court Composer. This is my niece, the Princess Elizabeth. SALIERI Your Highness. Out of breath, the Princess nods nervously. JOSEPH She has asked me to advise her on a suitable musical instructor. I think I've come up with an excellent idea. He smiles at Salieri. SALIERI Oh, Your Majesty, it would be such a tremendous honour! JOSEPH I'm thinking about Herr Mozart. What is your view? Salieri's face falls, almost imperceptibly. SALIERI An interesting idea, Majesty. But - JOSEPH Yes? SALIERI You already commissioned an opera from Mozart. JOSEPH And the result satisfies. SALIERI Yes, of course. My concern is to protect you from any suspicion of favouritism. JOSEPH Ah-ha. Favouritism. But I so want Mozart. SALIERI I'm sure there is a way, Majesty. Some kind of a little contest. I could perhaps put together a small Committee, and I could see to it naturally that it will select according to Your Majesty's wishes. JOSEPH You please me, Court Composer. A very clever idea. SALIERI (bowing) Sire. JOSEPH Well. There it is. He rides on. The groom releases her horse's head, and runs on after the Princess. CUT TO: INT. CHAMBERLAIN VON STRACK'S STUDY - DAY - 1780'S Von Strack sits stiffly behind his gilded desk. Mozart stands before him, trembling with anger. MOZART What is this, Herr Chamberlain? VON STRACK What is what? MOZART Why do I have to submit samples of my work to some stupid committee? Just to teach a sixteen-year-old girl. VON STRACK Because His Majesty wishes it. MOZART Is the Emperor angry with me? VON STRACK On the contrary. MOZART Then why doesn't he simply appoint me to the post? VON STRACK Mozart, you are not the only composer in Vienna. MOZART No, but I'm the best. VON STRACK A little modesty would suit you better. MOZART Who is on this committee? VON STRACK Kapellmeister Bonno, Count Orsini- Rosenberg and Court Composer Salieri. MOZART Naturally, the Italians! Of course! Always the Italians! VON STRACK Mozart - MOZART They hate my music. It terrifies them. The only sound Italians understand is banality. Tonic and dominant, tonic and dominant, from here to Resurrection! (singing angrily) Ba-ba! Ba-ba! Ba-ba! Ba-ba! Anything else is morbid. VON STRACK Mozart - MOZART Show them one interesting modulation and they faint. Ohime! Morbidezza! Morbidezza! Italians are musical idiots and you want them to judge my music! VON STRACK Look, young man, the issue is simple. If you want this post, you must submit your stuff in the same way as all your colleagues. MOZART Must I? Well, I won't! I tell you straight: I will not! CUT TO: INT. MOZART'S APARTMENT - BEDROOM - VIENNA - DAY - 1780'S The room is very small and untidy. Constanze is marching up and down it, upset. Mozart is lying on the bed. CONSTANZE I think you're mad! You're really mad! MOZART Oh, leave me alone. CONSTANZE One royal pupil and the whole of Vienna will come flocking. We'd be set up for life! MOZART They'll come anyway. They love me here. CONSTANZE No, they will not. I know how things work in this city. MOZART Oh yes? You always know everything. CONSTANZE Well, I'm not borrowing any more money from my mother, and that's that! MOZART You borrowed money from your mother? CONSTANZE Yes! MOZART Well, don't do that again! CONSTANZE How are we going to live, Wolfi? Do you want me to go into the streets and beg? MOZART Don't be stupid. CONSTANZE All they want to see is your work. What's wrong with that? MOZART Shut up! Just shut up! I don't need them. CONSTANZE This isn't pride. It's sheer stupidity! She glares at him, almost in tears. CUT TO: INT. SALIERI'S MUSIC ROOM - LATE AFTERNOON - 1780'S Salieri is giving a lesson to a girl student, who is singing the Italian art song, Caro Mio Ben. There is a knock on the door. SALIERI Yes. A SERVANT enters. SERVANT Excuse me, sir, there is a lady who insists on talking to you. SALIERI Who is she? SERVANT She didn't say. But she says it's urgent. SALIERI (to the pupil) Excuse me, my dear. Salieri goes into the salon. CUT TO: INT. THE SALON - LATE AFTERNOON - 1780'S Constanze stands, closely veiled, holding a portfolio stuffed with manuscripts. The singing lesson ends, with two chords on the instrument. Salieri enters the salon. Constanze drops him a shy curtsey. CONSTANZE Excellency! SALIERI Madame. How can I help you? Shyly, she unveils. SALIERI Frau Mozart? CONSTANZE That's right, Your Excellency. I've come on behalf of my hus band. I'm - I'm bringing some samples of his work so he can be considered for the royal appointment. SALIERI How charming. But why did he not come himself? CONSTANZE He's terribly busy, sir. SALIERI I understand. He takes the portfolio and puts it on a table. SALIERI I will look at them, of course, the moment I can. It will be an honour. Please give him my warmest. CONSTANZE Would it be too much trouble, sir, to ask you to look at them now? While I wait. SALIERI I'm afraid I'm not at leisure this very moment. Just leave them with me. I assure you they will be quite safe. CONSTANZE I - I really cannot do that, Your Excellency. You see, he doesn't know I'm here. SALIERI Really? CONSTANZE My husband is a proud man, sir. He would be furious if he knew I'd come. SALIERI Then he didn't send you? CONSTANZE No, sir. This is my own idea. SALIERI I see. CONSTANZE Sir, we really need this job. We're desperate. My husband spends far more than he can ever earn. I don't mean he's lazy - he's not at all - he works all day long. It's just! he's not practical. Money simply slips through his fingers, it's really ridiculous, Your Excellency. I know you help musicians. You're famous for it. Give him just this one post. We'd be forever indebted! A short pause. SALIERI Let me offer you some refreshment. Do you know what these are? He indicates a dish piled high with glazed chestnuts. SALIERI Cappezzoli di Venere. Nipples of Venus. Roman chestnuts in brandied sugar. Won't you try one? They're quite surprising. He offers her the dish. She takes one and puts it in her mouth. He watches carefully. CONSTANZE Oh! They're wonderful. He takes one himself. We notice on his finger a heavy gold signet-ring. CONSTANZE Thank you very much, Your Excellency. SALIERI Don't keep calling me that. It puts me at such a distance. I was not born a Court Composer, you know. I'm from a small town, just like your husband. He smiles at her. She takes another chestnut. SALIERI Are you sure you can't leave that music, and come back again? I have other things you might like. CONSTANZE That's very tempting, but it's impossible, I'm afraid. Wolfi would be frantic if he found those were missing. You see, they're all originals. SALIERI Originals? CONSTANZE Yes. A pause. He puts out his hand and takes up the portfolio from the table. He opens it. He looks at the music. He is puzzled. SALIERI These are originals? CONSTANZE Yes, sir. He doesn't make copies. CUT TO: INT. OLD SALIERI'S HOSPITAL ROOM - NIGHT - 1823 The old man faces the Priest. OLD SALIERI Astounding! It was actually beyond belief. These were first and only drafts of music yet they showed no corrections of any kind. Not one. Do you realize what that meant? Vogler stares at him. OLD SALIERI He'd simply put down music already finished in his head. Page after page of it, as if he was just taking dictation. And music finished as no music is ever finished. INT. SALIERI'S SALON - LATE AFTERNOON - 1780'S CU, The manuscript in Mozart's handwriting. The music begins to sound under the following: OLD SALIERI (V.O.) Displace one note and there would be diminishment. Displace one phrase, and the structure would fall. It was clear to me. That sound I had heard in the Archbishop's palace had been no accident. Here again was the very voice of God! I was staring through the cage of those meticulous ink- strokes at an absolute, inimitable beauty. The music swells. What we now hear is an amazing collage of great passages from Mozart's music, ravishing to Salieri and to us. The Court Composer, oblivious to Constanze, who sits happily chewing chestnuts, her mouth covered in sugar, walks around and around his salon, reading the pages and dropping them on the floor when he is done with them. We see his agonized and wondering face: he shudders as if in a rough and tumbling sea; he experiences the point where beauty and great pain coalesce. More pages fall than he can read, scattering across the floor in a white cascade, as he circles the room. Finally, we hear the tremendous Qui Tollis from the Mass in C Minor. It seems to break over him like a wave and, unable to bear any more of it, he slams the portfolio shut. Instantly, the music breaks off, reverberating in his head. He stands shaking, staring wildly. Constanze gets up, perplexed. CONSTANZE Is it no good? A pause. SALIERI It is miraculous. CONSTANZE Oh yes. He's really proud of his work. Another pause. CONSTANZE So, will you help him? Salieri tries to recover himself. SALIERI Tomorrow night I dine with the Emperor. One word from me and the post is his. CONSTANZE Oh, thank you, sir! Overjoyed, she stops and kisses his hand. He raises her - and then clasps her to him clumsily. She pushes herself away. SALIERI Come back tonight. CONSTANZE Tonight? SALIERI Alone. CONSTANZE What for? SALIERI Some service deserves service in return. No? CONSTANZE What do you mean? SALIERI Isn't it obvious? They stare at one another: Constanze in total disbelief. SALIERI It's a post all Vienna seeks. If you want it for your husband, come tonight. CONSTANZE But! I'm a married woman! SALIERI Then don't. It's up to you. Not to be vague, that is the price. He glares at her. SALIERI Yes. He rings a silver bell for a servant and abruptly leaves the roam. Constanze stares after him, horrified. The servant enters. Shocked and stunned, Constanze goes down an her knees and starts picking up the music from the floor. CUT TO: INT. OLD SALIERI'S HOSPITAL ROOM - NIGHT - 1823 CU, Father Vogler, horrified. OLD SALIERI Yes, Father. Yes! So much for my vow of chastity. What did it matter? Good, patient, hard-working, chaste - what did it matter? Had goodness made me a good composer? I realized it absolutely then - that moment: goodness is nothing in the furnace of art. And I was nothing to God. VOGLER (crying out) You cannot say that! OLD SALIERI No? Was Mozart a good man? VOGLER God's ways are not yours. And you are not here to question Him. Offer him the salt of penitence. He will give you back the bread of eternal life. He is all merciful. That is all you need to know. OLD SALIERI All I ever wanted was to sing to Him. That's His doing, isn't it? He gave me that longing - then made me mute. Why? Tell me that. If He didn't want me to serve Him with music, why implant the desire, like a lust in my body, then deny me the talent? Go on, tell me! Speak for Him! VOGLER My son, no one can speak for God. OLD SALIERI Oh? I thought you did so every day. So speak now. Answer me! VOGLER I do not claim to unravel the mysteries. I treasure them. As you should. OLD SALIERI (impatiently) Oh yes, yes, yes, yes, yes! Always the same stale answers! (intimately to the priest) There is no God of Mercy, Father. Just a God of torture. CUT TO: INT. SALIERI'S APARTMENT - BEDROOM - NIGHT - 1780'S Salieri sits at his desk, staring up at the cross. OLD SALIERI (V.O.) Evening came to that room. I sat there not knowing whether the girl would return or not. I prayed as I'd never prayed before. SALIERI Dear God, enter me now. Fill me with one piece of true music. One piece with your breath in it, so I know that you love me. Please. Just one. Show me one sign of your favour, and I will show mine to Mozart and his wife. I will get him the royal position, and if she comes, I'll receive her with all respect and send her home in joy. Enter me! Enter me! Please! Te imploro. Long, long silence. Salieri stares at the cross. Christ stares back at him impassively. Finally in this silence we hear a faint knocking at the door. Salieri stirs himself. A servant appears. SERVANT That lady is back, sir. SALIERI Show her in. Then go to bed. The Servant bows and leaves. We follow him through: INT. MUSIC ROOM IN SALIERI'S APARTMENT - NIGHT - 1780'S The Servant crosses it and enters: INT. SALON IN SALIERI'S APARTMENT - NIGHT - 1780'S Constanze is sitting on an upright chair, veiled as before, the portfolio of music on her lap. Through the far door leading from the hall, another servant is peering at her. The first servant joins him and shuts the door on the girl, leaving her alone. We stay with her. The clock ticks on the mantelpiece. We hear an old carriage pass in the street below. Nervously she lifts her veil and looks about her. Suddenly Salieri appears from the music room. He is pale and very tight. They regard each other. She smiles and rises to greet him, affecting a relaxed and warm manner, as if to put him at his ease. CONSTANZE Well, I'm here. My husband has gone to a concert. He didn't think I would enjoy it. A pause. CONSTANZE I do apologize for this afternoon. I behaved like a silly girl. Where shall we go? SALIERI What? CONSTANZE Should we stay here? It's a charming room. I love these candlesticks. Were they here earlier? I didn't notice them I suppose I was too nervous. As she talks, she extinguishes the candles in a pair of Venetian candelabra and subsequently other candles around the room. CONSTANZE Wolfgang was given some candlesticks by King George in England, but they were only wood. Oh, excuse me. Let's not talk about him. What do you think of this? It's real lace. Brussels. She turns and takes off her shawl. CONSTANZE Well, it's much too good for every day. I keep saying to Wolfi, don't be so extravagant. Presents are lovely, but we can't afford them. It doesn't do any good. The more I tell him, the more he spends. Oh, excuse me! There I go again. She picks up the portfolio. CONSTANZE Do you still want to look at this? Or don't we need to bother anymore? I imagine we don't, really. She looks at him inquiringly, and drops the portfolio on the floor; pages of music pour out of it. Instantly we hear a massive chord, and the great Qui Tollis from the Mass in C Minor fills the room. To its grand and weighty sound, Constanze starts to undress, watched by the horrified Salieri. Between him and her, music is an active presence, hurting and baffling him. He opens his mouth in distress. The music pounds in his head. The candle flickers over her as she removes her clothes and prepares for his embrace. Suddenly he cries out. SALIERI Go! Go! Go! He snatches up the bell and shakes it frantically, not stopping until the two servants we saw earlier appear at the door. The music stops abruptly. They stare at the appalled and frightened Constanze, who is desperately trying to cover her nakedness. SALIERI Show this woman out! Constanze hurls herself at him. CONSTANZE You shit! You shit! You rotten shit! He seizes her wrists and thrusts her back. Then he leaves the room quickly, slamming the door behind him. Constanze turns and sees the two servants goggling at her in the room. CONSTANZE What are you staring at? Wildly, she picks up the candelabrum and throws it at them. It shatters on the floor. INT. SALIERI'S APARTMENT - BEDROOM - NIGHT - 1780'S CU, Salieri standing, his eyes shut, shaking in distress. He opens them and sees Christ across the room, staring at him from the wall. OLD SALIERI (V.O.) From now on, we are enemies, You and I! CUT TO: INT. OLD SALIERI'S HOSPITAL ROOM - NIGHT - 1823 The old man is reliving the experience. Vogler looks at him, horrified. OLD SALIERI Because You will not enter me, with all my need for you; because You scorn my attempts at virtue; because You choose for Your instrument a boastful, lustful, smutty infantile boy and give me for reward only the ability to recognize the Incarnation; because You are unjust, unfair, unkind, I will block You! I swear it! I will hinder and harm Your creature on earth as far as I am able. I will ruin Your Incarnation. CUT BACK TO: INT. SALIERI'S APARTMENT - BEDROOM - NIGHT - 1780'S CU, the fireplace. In it lies the olivewood Christ on the cross, burning. OLD SALIERI (V.O.) What use after all is Man, if not to teach God His lessons? The cross flames up and disintegrates. Salieri stares at it. CUT TO: INT. MOZART'S APARTMENT - LIVING ROOM - NIGHT - 1780'S The front door bursts open. Mozart stumbles in, followed by EMMANUEL SCHIKANEDER, three young actresses, and another man, all fairly drunk. Schikaneder (who appears everywhere accompanied by young girls) is a large, fleshy, extravagant man of about thirty-five. MOZART Stanzi! Stanzi! Stanzi-Manzi! The others laugh. MOZART Sssh! SCHIKANEDER (imitating Mozart) Stanzi-Manzi-Banzi-Wanzi! MOZART Sssh! Stay here. He walks unsteadily to the bedroom door and opens it. SCHIKANEDER (to the girls, very tipsy) Sssh! You're dishgrashful! INT. MOZART'S APARTMENT - BEDROOM - NIGHT - 1780'S Constanze lies in bed, her back turned to her husband, who comes into the room and shuts the door. MOZART (playfully) Stanzi? How's my mouse? Mouse-wouse? I'm back - puss-wuss is back! She turns around abruptly. She looks dreadful; her eyes red with weeping. Mozart is shocked. MOZART Stanzi! He approaches the bed and sits on it. Immediately she starts crying again, desperately. MOZART What's the matter? What is it? Stanzi! He holds her and she clings to him in a fierce embrace, crying a flood of tears. MOZART Stop it now. Stop it. I've brought some friends to meet you. They're next door waiting. Do we have anything to eat? They're all starving. CONSTANZE Tell them to go away. I don't want to see anybody. MOZART What's the matter with you? CONSTANZE Tell them to go! MOZART Sssh. What is it? Tell me. CONSTANZE No! MOZART Yes! CONSTANZE I love you! I love you! She starts crying again, throwing her arms around his neck. CONSTANZE I love you. Please stay with me. I'm frightened. INT. THE ROYAL PALACE - DINING ROOM - DAY - 1780'S Joseph sits eating. A butler serves him goat's milk to drink. Joseph is holding a memorandum from Salieri in his hand. Salieri stands before him. JOSEPH I don't think you understand me, Court Composer. SALIERI Majesty, I did. Believe me, it was a most agonizing. decision. But finally, I simply could not recommend Herr Mozart. JOSEPH Why not? SALIERI Well, Sire, I made some inquiries in a routine way. I was curious to know why he had so few pupils. It is rather alarming. JOSEPH Oh? With a gesture Joseph dismisses the butler, who bows and leaves the room. SALIERI Majesty, I don't like to talk against a fellow musician. JOSEPH Of course not. SALIERI I have to tell you, Mozart is not entirely to be trusted alone with young ladies. JOSEPH Really? SALIERI As a matter of fact, one of my own pupils - a very young singer - told me she was - er - well! JOSEPH Yes? SALIERI Molested, Majesty. Twice, in the course of the same lesson. A pause. JOSEPH Ah-ha. Well. There it is. INT. SALIERI'S HOUSE - STAIRCASE - VIENNA - DAY - 1780'S Salieri has just returned from the palace and is coming up the staircase. He is met by his servant. SERVANT Sir, there is a Herr Mozart waiting for you in the salon. Salieri is plainly alarmed. SALIERI What does he want? SERVANT He didn't say, sir. I told him I didn't know when you would be back, but he insisted on waiting. SALIERI Come with me. And stay in the room. He mounts the stairs. INT. SALIERI'S APARTMENT - SALON - DAY - 1780'S Mozart is waiting for Salieri, holding a portfolio. Salieri approaches him nervously. Mozart stands not belligerently, but humbly. SALIERI Herr Mozart, what brings you here? MOZART Your Excellency, you requested some specimens of my work. Here they are. I don't have to tell you how much I need your help. I truly appreciate your looking at these. I have pressures on me - financial pressures. As you know, I'm a married man now. SALIERI So you are. How is your pretty wife? MOZART She is well. She is - well, actually, I'm about to become a father! She only told me last night. You are the first to know. SALIERI I'm flattered. And congratulations to you, of course. MOZART So you see, this post is very important to me right now. Salieri looks at him in distress. SALIERI Why didn't you come to me yesterday, Mozart? This is a most painful situation. Yesterday I could have helped you. Today, I can't. MOZART Why? Here is the music. It's here. I am submitting it humbly. Isn't that what you wanted? SALIERI I have just come from the palace. The post has been filled. MOZART Filled? That's impossible! They haven't even seen my work. I need this post. Please, can't you help me? Please! SALIERI My dear Mozart, there is no one in the world I would rather help, but now it is too late. MOZART Whom did they choose? SALIERI Herr Sommer. MOZART Sommer? Herr Sommer? But the man's a fool! He's a total mediocrity. SALIERI No, no, no: he has yet to achieve mediocrity. MOZART But I can't lose this post, I simply can't! Excellency, please. Let's go to the palace, and you can explain to the Emperor that Herr Sommer is an awful choice. He could actually do musical harm to the Princess! SALIERI An implausible idea. Between you and me, no one in the world could do musical harm to the Princess Elizabeth. Mozart chuckles delightedly. Salieri offers him a glass of white dessert and a spoon. Mozart takes it absently and goes on talking. MOZART Look, I must have pupils. Without pupils I can't manage. SALIERI You don't mean to tell me you are living in poverty? MOZART No, but I'm broke. I'm always broke. I don't know why. SALIERI It has been said, my friend, that you are inclined to live somewhat above your means. MOZART How can anyone say that? We have no cook, no maid. We have no footman. Nothing at all! SALIERI How is that possible? You give concerts, don't you? I hear they are quite successful. MOZART They're stupendously successful. You can't get a seat. The only problem is none will hire me. They all want to hear me play, but they won't let me teach their daughters. As if I was some kind of fiend. I'm not a fiend! SALIERI Of course not. MOZART Do you have a daughter? SALIERI I'm afraid not. MOZART Well, could you lend me some money till you have one?

behind

How many times the word 'behind' appears in the text?

All the same, why him? Why use Mozart to teach me lessons in humility? My heart was filling up with such hatred for that little man. For the first time in my life I began to know really violent thoughts. I couldn't stop them. VOGLER Did you try? OLD SALIERI Every day. Sometimes for hours I would pray! INT. SALIERI'S APARTMENT - BEDROOM - DAY - 1780'S The young Salieri is kneeling in desperation before the Cross. SALIERI Please! Please! Send him away, back to Salzburg. For his sake as well as mine. CU, Christ staring from the Cross. CUT BACK TO: INT. AUDIENCE HALL - ARCHBISHOP'S PALACE - SALZBURG - DAY - 1780'S We see Leopold kneeling now not to the Cross but to Archbishop Colloredo, sitting impassively on his throne. Count Arco stands beside him. Leopold is a desperate, once-handsome man of sixty, now far too much the subservient courtier. COLLOREDO No! I won't have him back. LEOPOLD But he needs to be here in Salzburg, Your Grace. He needs me and he needs you. Your protection, your understanding. COLLOREDO Hardly. LEOPOLD Oh sir, yes! He's about to make the worst mistake of his life. Some little Viennese slut is trying to trick him into marriage. I know my son. He is too simple to see the trap - and there is no one there who really cares for him. COLLOREDO I'm not surprised. Money seems to be more important to him than loyalty or friendship. He has sold himself to Vienna. Let Vienna look out for him. LEOPOLD Sir - COLLOREDO Your son is an unprincipled, spoiled, conceited brat. LEOPOLD Yes, sir, that's the truth. But don't blame him. The fault is mine. I was too indulgent with him. But not again. Never again, I promise! I implore you - let me bring him back here. I'll make him give his word to serve you faithfully. COLLOREDO And how will you make him keep it? LEOPOLD Oh, sir, he's never disobeyed me in anything. Please, Your Grace, give him one more chance. COLLOREDO You have leave to try. LEOPOLD Oh, Your Grace - I thank Your Grace! I thank you! In deepest gratitude he kisses the Archbishop's hand. He motions Leopold to rise. We hear the first dark fortissimo chord which begins the Overture to Don Giovanni: the theme associated with the character of the Commendatore. LEOPOLD (V.O.) My dear son. The second fortissimo chord sounds. INT. A BAROQUE CHURCH - DAY - 1780'S We see a huge CU, of Mozart's head, looking front and down, as if reading his father's letter. We hear Leopold's voice over this image, no longer whining and anxious, but impressive. LEOPOLD (V.O.) I write to you with urgent news. I am coming to Vienna. Take no further steps toward marriage until we meet. You are too gullible to see your own danger. As you honour the father who has devoted his entire life to yours, do as I bid, and await my coming. MOZART I will. The camera pulls back to see that he is in fact kneeling beside Constanze. A PRIEST faces them. Behind them are Madame Weber, Josefa and Sophie Weber, and a very few others. Among them, a merry looking lady in bright clothes: the BARONESS WALDSTADTEN. PRIEST And will you, Constanze Weber, take this man, Wolfgang to be your lawful husband? CONSTANZE I will. PRIEST I now pronounce you man and wife. The opening kyrie of the great Mass in C Minor is heard. Mozart and Constanze kiss. They are in tears. Madame Weber and her daughters look on approvingly. The music swells and continues under the following: INT. A ROOM IN LEOPOLD'S HOUSE - SALZBURG - NIGHT - 1780'S There is a view of a castle in background. Leopold sits alone in his room. He is reading a letter from Wolfgang. At his feet are his trunks, half-packed for the journey he will not now take. We hear Mozart's voice reading the following letter and we see, as the camera roves around the room, mementos of the young prodigy's early life: the little forte-piano made for him; the little violin made for him; an Order presented to him. We see a little starling in a wicker cage. And we see portraits of the boy on the walls, concluding with the familiar family portrait of Wolfgang and his sister Nannerl seated at the keyboard with Leopold standing, and the picture of their mother on the wall behind them. MOZART (V.O.) Most beloved father, it is done. Do not blame me that I did not wait to see your dear face. I knew you would have tried to dissuade me from my truest happiness and I could not have borne it. Your every word is precious to me. Remember how you have always told me Vienna is the City of Musicians. To conquer here is to conquer Europe! With my wife I can do it. I vow I will become regular in my habits and productive as never before. She is wonderful, Papa, and I know that you will love her. And one day soon when I am a wealthy man, you will come and live with us, and we will be so happy. I long for that day, best of Papas, and kiss your hand a hundred thousand times. The music of the Mass fades as Leopold crumples the letter in his hand. EXT. THE IMPERIAL GARDENS - VIENNA - DAY - 1780'S Salieri stands waiting, hat in hand. Beside him stands a royal servant. Behind him, gardeners are glimpsed tending the shrubs and bushes along a grassy ride. Down this ride are seen cantering two people on horseback: the Emperor Joseph and his niece, the PRINCESS ELIZABETH. They are mounted on glossy horses. The Princess rides side-saddle. Running beside her is a panting groom. The Emperor rides elegantly; his niece, a dumpy little Hapsburg girl of sixteen, like a sack of potatoes. As they draw level with Salieri they stop, and the groom holds the head of the Princess' horse. Salieri bows respectfully. JOSEPH Good morning, Court Composer. This is my niece, the Princess Elizabeth. SALIERI Your Highness. Out of breath, the Princess nods nervously. JOSEPH She has asked me to advise her on a suitable musical instructor. I think I've come up with an excellent idea. He smiles at Salieri. SALIERI Oh, Your Majesty, it would be such a tremendous honour! JOSEPH I'm thinking about Herr Mozart. What is your view? Salieri's face falls, almost imperceptibly. SALIERI An interesting idea, Majesty. But - JOSEPH Yes? SALIERI You already commissioned an opera from Mozart. JOSEPH And the result satisfies. SALIERI Yes, of course. My concern is to protect you from any suspicion of favouritism. JOSEPH Ah-ha. Favouritism. But I so want Mozart. SALIERI I'm sure there is a way, Majesty. Some kind of a little contest. I could perhaps put together a small Committee, and I could see to it naturally that it will select according to Your Majesty's wishes. JOSEPH You please me, Court Composer. A very clever idea. SALIERI (bowing) Sire. JOSEPH Well. There it is. He rides on. The groom releases her horse's head, and runs on after the Princess. CUT TO: INT. CHAMBERLAIN VON STRACK'S STUDY - DAY - 1780'S Von Strack sits stiffly behind his gilded desk. Mozart stands before him, trembling with anger. MOZART What is this, Herr Chamberlain? VON STRACK What is what? MOZART Why do I have to submit samples of my work to some stupid committee? Just to teach a sixteen-year-old girl. VON STRACK Because His Majesty wishes it. MOZART Is the Emperor angry with me? VON STRACK On the contrary. MOZART Then why doesn't he simply appoint me to the post? VON STRACK Mozart, you are not the only composer in Vienna. MOZART No, but I'm the best. VON STRACK A little modesty would suit you better. MOZART Who is on this committee? VON STRACK Kapellmeister Bonno, Count Orsini- Rosenberg and Court Composer Salieri. MOZART Naturally, the Italians! Of course! Always the Italians! VON STRACK Mozart - MOZART They hate my music. It terrifies them. The only sound Italians understand is banality. Tonic and dominant, tonic and dominant, from here to Resurrection! (singing angrily) Ba-ba! Ba-ba! Ba-ba! Ba-ba! Anything else is morbid. VON STRACK Mozart - MOZART Show them one interesting modulation and they faint. Ohime! Morbidezza! Morbidezza! Italians are musical idiots and you want them to judge my music! VON STRACK Look, young man, the issue is simple. If you want this post, you must submit your stuff in the same way as all your colleagues. MOZART Must I? Well, I won't! I tell you straight: I will not! CUT TO: INT. MOZART'S APARTMENT - BEDROOM - VIENNA - DAY - 1780'S The room is very small and untidy. Constanze is marching up and down it, upset. Mozart is lying on the bed. CONSTANZE I think you're mad! You're really mad! MOZART Oh, leave me alone. CONSTANZE One royal pupil and the whole of Vienna will come flocking. We'd be set up for life! MOZART They'll come anyway. They love me here. CONSTANZE No, they will not. I know how things work in this city. MOZART Oh yes? You always know everything. CONSTANZE Well, I'm not borrowing any more money from my mother, and that's that! MOZART You borrowed money from your mother? CONSTANZE Yes! MOZART Well, don't do that again! CONSTANZE How are we going to live, Wolfi? Do you want me to go into the streets and beg? MOZART Don't be stupid. CONSTANZE All they want to see is your work. What's wrong with that? MOZART Shut up! Just shut up! I don't need them. CONSTANZE This isn't pride. It's sheer stupidity! She glares at him, almost in tears. CUT TO: INT. SALIERI'S MUSIC ROOM - LATE AFTERNOON - 1780'S Salieri is giving a lesson to a girl student, who is singing the Italian art song, Caro Mio Ben. There is a knock on the door. SALIERI Yes. A SERVANT enters. SERVANT Excuse me, sir, there is a lady who insists on talking to you. SALIERI Who is she? SERVANT She didn't say. But she says it's urgent. SALIERI (to the pupil) Excuse me, my dear. Salieri goes into the salon. CUT TO: INT. THE SALON - LATE AFTERNOON - 1780'S Constanze stands, closely veiled, holding a portfolio stuffed with manuscripts. The singing lesson ends, with two chords on the instrument. Salieri enters the salon. Constanze drops him a shy curtsey. CONSTANZE Excellency! SALIERI Madame. How can I help you? Shyly, she unveils. SALIERI Frau Mozart? CONSTANZE That's right, Your Excellency. I've come on behalf of my hus band. I'm - I'm bringing some samples of his work so he can be considered for the royal appointment. SALIERI How charming. But why did he not come himself? CONSTANZE He's terribly busy, sir. SALIERI I understand. He takes the portfolio and puts it on a table. SALIERI I will look at them, of course, the moment I can. It will be an honour. Please give him my warmest. CONSTANZE Would it be too much trouble, sir, to ask you to look at them now? While I wait. SALIERI I'm afraid I'm not at leisure this very moment. Just leave them with me. I assure you they will be quite safe. CONSTANZE I - I really cannot do that, Your Excellency. You see, he doesn't know I'm here. SALIERI Really? CONSTANZE My husband is a proud man, sir. He would be furious if he knew I'd come. SALIERI Then he didn't send you? CONSTANZE No, sir. This is my own idea. SALIERI I see. CONSTANZE Sir, we really need this job. We're desperate. My husband spends far more than he can ever earn. I don't mean he's lazy - he's not at all - he works all day long. It's just! he's not practical. Money simply slips through his fingers, it's really ridiculous, Your Excellency. I know you help musicians. You're famous for it. Give him just this one post. We'd be forever indebted! A short pause. SALIERI Let me offer you some refreshment. Do you know what these are? He indicates a dish piled high with glazed chestnuts. SALIERI Cappezzoli di Venere. Nipples of Venus. Roman chestnuts in brandied sugar. Won't you try one? They're quite surprising. He offers her the dish. She takes one and puts it in her mouth. He watches carefully. CONSTANZE Oh! They're wonderful. He takes one himself. We notice on his finger a heavy gold signet-ring. CONSTANZE Thank you very much, Your Excellency. SALIERI Don't keep calling me that. It puts me at such a distance. I was not born a Court Composer, you know. I'm from a small town, just like your husband. He smiles at her. She takes another chestnut. SALIERI Are you sure you can't leave that music, and come back again? I have other things you might like. CONSTANZE That's very tempting, but it's impossible, I'm afraid. Wolfi would be frantic if he found those were missing. You see, they're all originals. SALIERI Originals? CONSTANZE Yes. A pause. He puts out his hand and takes up the portfolio from the table. He opens it. He looks at the music. He is puzzled. SALIERI These are originals? CONSTANZE Yes, sir. He doesn't make copies. CUT TO: INT. OLD SALIERI'S HOSPITAL ROOM - NIGHT - 1823 The old man faces the Priest. OLD SALIERI Astounding! It was actually beyond belief. These were first and only drafts of music yet they showed no corrections of any kind. Not one. Do you realize what that meant? Vogler stares at him. OLD SALIERI He'd simply put down music already finished in his head. Page after page of it, as if he was just taking dictation. And music finished as no music is ever finished. INT. SALIERI'S SALON - LATE AFTERNOON - 1780'S CU, The manuscript in Mozart's handwriting. The music begins to sound under the following: OLD SALIERI (V.O.) Displace one note and there would be diminishment. Displace one phrase, and the structure would fall. It was clear to me. That sound I had heard in the Archbishop's palace had been no accident. Here again was the very voice of God! I was staring through the cage of those meticulous ink- strokes at an absolute, inimitable beauty. The music swells. What we now hear is an amazing collage of great passages from Mozart's music, ravishing to Salieri and to us. The Court Composer, oblivious to Constanze, who sits happily chewing chestnuts, her mouth covered in sugar, walks around and around his salon, reading the pages and dropping them on the floor when he is done with them. We see his agonized and wondering face: he shudders as if in a rough and tumbling sea; he experiences the point where beauty and great pain coalesce. More pages fall than he can read, scattering across the floor in a white cascade, as he circles the room. Finally, we hear the tremendous Qui Tollis from the Mass in C Minor. It seems to break over him like a wave and, unable to bear any more of it, he slams the portfolio shut. Instantly, the music breaks off, reverberating in his head. He stands shaking, staring wildly. Constanze gets up, perplexed. CONSTANZE Is it no good? A pause. SALIERI It is miraculous. CONSTANZE Oh yes. He's really proud of his work. Another pause. CONSTANZE So, will you help him? Salieri tries to recover himself. SALIERI Tomorrow night I dine with the Emperor. One word from me and the post is his. CONSTANZE Oh, thank you, sir! Overjoyed, she stops and kisses his hand. He raises her - and then clasps her to him clumsily. She pushes herself away. SALIERI Come back tonight. CONSTANZE Tonight? SALIERI Alone. CONSTANZE What for? SALIERI Some service deserves service in return. No? CONSTANZE What do you mean? SALIERI Isn't it obvious? They stare at one another: Constanze in total disbelief. SALIERI It's a post all Vienna seeks. If you want it for your husband, come tonight. CONSTANZE But! I'm a married woman! SALIERI Then don't. It's up to you. Not to be vague, that is the price. He glares at her. SALIERI Yes. He rings a silver bell for a servant and abruptly leaves the roam. Constanze stares after him, horrified. The servant enters. Shocked and stunned, Constanze goes down an her knees and starts picking up the music from the floor. CUT TO: INT. OLD SALIERI'S HOSPITAL ROOM - NIGHT - 1823 CU, Father Vogler, horrified. OLD SALIERI Yes, Father. Yes! So much for my vow of chastity. What did it matter? Good, patient, hard-working, chaste - what did it matter? Had goodness made me a good composer? I realized it absolutely then - that moment: goodness is nothing in the furnace of art. And I was nothing to God. VOGLER (crying out) You cannot say that! OLD SALIERI No? Was Mozart a good man? VOGLER God's ways are not yours. And you are not here to question Him. Offer him the salt of penitence. He will give you back the bread of eternal life. He is all merciful. That is all you need to know. OLD SALIERI All I ever wanted was to sing to Him. That's His doing, isn't it? He gave me that longing - then made me mute. Why? Tell me that. If He didn't want me to serve Him with music, why implant the desire, like a lust in my body, then deny me the talent? Go on, tell me! Speak for Him! VOGLER My son, no one can speak for God. OLD SALIERI Oh? I thought you did so every day. So speak now. Answer me! VOGLER I do not claim to unravel the mysteries. I treasure them. As you should. OLD SALIERI (impatiently) Oh yes, yes, yes, yes, yes! Always the same stale answers! (intimately to the priest) There is no God of Mercy, Father. Just a God of torture. CUT TO: INT. SALIERI'S APARTMENT - BEDROOM - NIGHT - 1780'S Salieri sits at his desk, staring up at the cross. OLD SALIERI (V.O.) Evening came to that room. I sat there not knowing whether the girl would return or not. I prayed as I'd never prayed before. SALIERI Dear God, enter me now. Fill me with one piece of true music. One piece with your breath in it, so I know that you love me. Please. Just one. Show me one sign of your favour, and I will show mine to Mozart and his wife. I will get him the royal position, and if she comes, I'll receive her with all respect and send her home in joy. Enter me! Enter me! Please! Te imploro. Long, long silence. Salieri stares at the cross. Christ stares back at him impassively. Finally in this silence we hear a faint knocking at the door. Salieri stirs himself. A servant appears. SERVANT That lady is back, sir. SALIERI Show her in. Then go to bed. The Servant bows and leaves. We follow him through: INT. MUSIC ROOM IN SALIERI'S APARTMENT - NIGHT - 1780'S The Servant crosses it and enters: INT. SALON IN SALIERI'S APARTMENT - NIGHT - 1780'S Constanze is sitting on an upright chair, veiled as before, the portfolio of music on her lap. Through the far door leading from the hall, another servant is peering at her. The first servant joins him and shuts the door on the girl, leaving her alone. We stay with her. The clock ticks on the mantelpiece. We hear an old carriage pass in the street below. Nervously she lifts her veil and looks about her. Suddenly Salieri appears from the music room. He is pale and very tight. They regard each other. She smiles and rises to greet him, affecting a relaxed and warm manner, as if to put him at his ease. CONSTANZE Well, I'm here. My husband has gone to a concert. He didn't think I would enjoy it. A pause. CONSTANZE I do apologize for this afternoon. I behaved like a silly girl. Where shall we go? SALIERI What? CONSTANZE Should we stay here? It's a charming room. I love these candlesticks. Were they here earlier? I didn't notice them I suppose I was too nervous. As she talks, she extinguishes the candles in a pair of Venetian candelabra and subsequently other candles around the room. CONSTANZE Wolfgang was given some candlesticks by King George in England, but they were only wood. Oh, excuse me. Let's not talk about him. What do you think of this? It's real lace. Brussels. She turns and takes off her shawl. CONSTANZE Well, it's much too good for every day. I keep saying to Wolfi, don't be so extravagant. Presents are lovely, but we can't afford them. It doesn't do any good. The more I tell him, the more he spends. Oh, excuse me! There I go again. She picks up the portfolio. CONSTANZE Do you still want to look at this? Or don't we need to bother anymore? I imagine we don't, really. She looks at him inquiringly, and drops the portfolio on the floor; pages of music pour out of it. Instantly we hear a massive chord, and the great Qui Tollis from the Mass in C Minor fills the room. To its grand and weighty sound, Constanze starts to undress, watched by the horrified Salieri. Between him and her, music is an active presence, hurting and baffling him. He opens his mouth in distress. The music pounds in his head. The candle flickers over her as she removes her clothes and prepares for his embrace. Suddenly he cries out. SALIERI Go! Go! Go! He snatches up the bell and shakes it frantically, not stopping until the two servants we saw earlier appear at the door. The music stops abruptly. They stare at the appalled and frightened Constanze, who is desperately trying to cover her nakedness. SALIERI Show this woman out! Constanze hurls herself at him. CONSTANZE You shit! You shit! You rotten shit! He seizes her wrists and thrusts her back. Then he leaves the room quickly, slamming the door behind him. Constanze turns and sees the two servants goggling at her in the room. CONSTANZE What are you staring at? Wildly, she picks up the candelabrum and throws it at them. It shatters on the floor. INT. SALIERI'S APARTMENT - BEDROOM - NIGHT - 1780'S CU, Salieri standing, his eyes shut, shaking in distress. He opens them and sees Christ across the room, staring at him from the wall. OLD SALIERI (V.O.) From now on, we are enemies, You and I! CUT TO: INT. OLD SALIERI'S HOSPITAL ROOM - NIGHT - 1823 The old man is reliving the experience. Vogler looks at him, horrified. OLD SALIERI Because You will not enter me, with all my need for you; because You scorn my attempts at virtue; because You choose for Your instrument a boastful, lustful, smutty infantile boy and give me for reward only the ability to recognize the Incarnation; because You are unjust, unfair, unkind, I will block You! I swear it! I will hinder and harm Your creature on earth as far as I am able. I will ruin Your Incarnation. CUT BACK TO: INT. SALIERI'S APARTMENT - BEDROOM - NIGHT - 1780'S CU, the fireplace. In it lies the olivewood Christ on the cross, burning. OLD SALIERI (V.O.) What use after all is Man, if not to teach God His lessons? The cross flames up and disintegrates. Salieri stares at it. CUT TO: INT. MOZART'S APARTMENT - LIVING ROOM - NIGHT - 1780'S The front door bursts open. Mozart stumbles in, followed by EMMANUEL SCHIKANEDER, three young actresses, and another man, all fairly drunk. Schikaneder (who appears everywhere accompanied by young girls) is a large, fleshy, extravagant man of about thirty-five. MOZART Stanzi! Stanzi! Stanzi-Manzi! The others laugh. MOZART Sssh! SCHIKANEDER (imitating Mozart) Stanzi-Manzi-Banzi-Wanzi! MOZART Sssh! Stay here. He walks unsteadily to the bedroom door and opens it. SCHIKANEDER (to the girls, very tipsy) Sssh! You're dishgrashful! INT. MOZART'S APARTMENT - BEDROOM - NIGHT - 1780'S Constanze lies in bed, her back turned to her husband, who comes into the room and shuts the door. MOZART (playfully) Stanzi? How's my mouse? Mouse-wouse? I'm back - puss-wuss is back! She turns around abruptly. She looks dreadful; her eyes red with weeping. Mozart is shocked. MOZART Stanzi! He approaches the bed and sits on it. Immediately she starts crying again, desperately. MOZART What's the matter? What is it? Stanzi! He holds her and she clings to him in a fierce embrace, crying a flood of tears. MOZART Stop it now. Stop it. I've brought some friends to meet you. They're next door waiting. Do we have anything to eat? They're all starving. CONSTANZE Tell them to go away. I don't want to see anybody. MOZART What's the matter with you? CONSTANZE Tell them to go! MOZART Sssh. What is it? Tell me. CONSTANZE No! MOZART Yes! CONSTANZE I love you! I love you! She starts crying again, throwing her arms around his neck. CONSTANZE I love you. Please stay with me. I'm frightened. INT. THE ROYAL PALACE - DINING ROOM - DAY - 1780'S Joseph sits eating. A butler serves him goat's milk to drink. Joseph is holding a memorandum from Salieri in his hand. Salieri stands before him. JOSEPH I don't think you understand me, Court Composer. SALIERI Majesty, I did. Believe me, it was a most agonizing. decision. But finally, I simply could not recommend Herr Mozart. JOSEPH Why not? SALIERI Well, Sire, I made some inquiries in a routine way. I was curious to know why he had so few pupils. It is rather alarming. JOSEPH Oh? With a gesture Joseph dismisses the butler, who bows and leaves the room. SALIERI Majesty, I don't like to talk against a fellow musician. JOSEPH Of course not. SALIERI I have to tell you, Mozart is not entirely to be trusted alone with young ladies. JOSEPH Really? SALIERI As a matter of fact, one of my own pupils - a very young singer - told me she was - er - well! JOSEPH Yes? SALIERI Molested, Majesty. Twice, in the course of the same lesson. A pause. JOSEPH Ah-ha. Well. There it is. INT. SALIERI'S HOUSE - STAIRCASE - VIENNA - DAY - 1780'S Salieri has just returned from the palace and is coming up the staircase. He is met by his servant. SERVANT Sir, there is a Herr Mozart waiting for you in the salon. Salieri is plainly alarmed. SALIERI What does he want? SERVANT He didn't say, sir. I told him I didn't know when you would be back, but he insisted on waiting. SALIERI Come with me. And stay in the room. He mounts the stairs. INT. SALIERI'S APARTMENT - SALON - DAY - 1780'S Mozart is waiting for Salieri, holding a portfolio. Salieri approaches him nervously. Mozart stands not belligerently, but humbly. SALIERI Herr Mozart, what brings you here? MOZART Your Excellency, you requested some specimens of my work. Here they are. I don't have to tell you how much I need your help. I truly appreciate your looking at these. I have pressures on me - financial pressures. As you know, I'm a married man now. SALIERI So you are. How is your pretty wife? MOZART She is well. She is - well, actually, I'm about to become a father! She only told me last night. You are the first to know. SALIERI I'm flattered. And congratulations to you, of course. MOZART So you see, this post is very important to me right now. Salieri looks at him in distress. SALIERI Why didn't you come to me yesterday, Mozart? This is a most painful situation. Yesterday I could have helped you. Today, I can't. MOZART Why? Here is the music. It's here. I am submitting it humbly. Isn't that what you wanted? SALIERI I have just come from the palace. The post has been filled. MOZART Filled? That's impossible! They haven't even seen my work. I need this post. Please, can't you help me? Please! SALIERI My dear Mozart, there is no one in the world I would rather help, but now it is too late. MOZART Whom did they choose? SALIERI Herr Sommer. MOZART Sommer? Herr Sommer? But the man's a fool! He's a total mediocrity. SALIERI No, no, no: he has yet to achieve mediocrity. MOZART But I can't lose this post, I simply can't! Excellency, please. Let's go to the palace, and you can explain to the Emperor that Herr Sommer is an awful choice. He could actually do musical harm to the Princess! SALIERI An implausible idea. Between you and me, no one in the world could do musical harm to the Princess Elizabeth. Mozart chuckles delightedly. Salieri offers him a glass of white dessert and a spoon. Mozart takes it absently and goes on talking. MOZART Look, I must have pupils. Without pupils I can't manage. SALIERI You don't mean to tell me you are living in poverty? MOZART No, but I'm broke. I'm always broke. I don't know why. SALIERI It has been said, my friend, that you are inclined to live somewhat above your means. MOZART How can anyone say that? We have no cook, no maid. We have no footman. Nothing at all! SALIERI How is that possible? You give concerts, don't you? I hear they are quite successful. MOZART They're stupendously successful. You can't get a seat. The only problem is none will hire me. They all want to hear me play, but they won't let me teach their daughters. As if I was some kind of fiend. I'm not a fiend! SALIERI Of course not. MOZART Do you have a daughter? SALIERI I'm afraid not. MOZART Well, could you lend me some money till you have one?

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All the same, why him? Why use Mozart to teach me lessons in humility? My heart was filling up with such hatred for that little man. For the first time in my life I began to know really violent thoughts. I couldn't stop them. VOGLER Did you try? OLD SALIERI Every day. Sometimes for hours I would pray! INT. SALIERI'S APARTMENT - BEDROOM - DAY - 1780'S The young Salieri is kneeling in desperation before the Cross. SALIERI Please! Please! Send him away, back to Salzburg. For his sake as well as mine. CU, Christ staring from the Cross. CUT BACK TO: INT. AUDIENCE HALL - ARCHBISHOP'S PALACE - SALZBURG - DAY - 1780'S We see Leopold kneeling now not to the Cross but to Archbishop Colloredo, sitting impassively on his throne. Count Arco stands beside him. Leopold is a desperate, once-handsome man of sixty, now far too much the subservient courtier. COLLOREDO No! I won't have him back. LEOPOLD But he needs to be here in Salzburg, Your Grace. He needs me and he needs you. Your protection, your understanding. COLLOREDO Hardly. LEOPOLD Oh sir, yes! He's about to make the worst mistake of his life. Some little Viennese slut is trying to trick him into marriage. I know my son. He is too simple to see the trap - and there is no one there who really cares for him. COLLOREDO I'm not surprised. Money seems to be more important to him than loyalty or friendship. He has sold himself to Vienna. Let Vienna look out for him. LEOPOLD Sir - COLLOREDO Your son is an unprincipled, spoiled, conceited brat. LEOPOLD Yes, sir, that's the truth. But don't blame him. The fault is mine. I was too indulgent with him. But not again. Never again, I promise! I implore you - let me bring him back here. I'll make him give his word to serve you faithfully. COLLOREDO And how will you make him keep it? LEOPOLD Oh, sir, he's never disobeyed me in anything. Please, Your Grace, give him one more chance. COLLOREDO You have leave to try. LEOPOLD Oh, Your Grace - I thank Your Grace! I thank you! In deepest gratitude he kisses the Archbishop's hand. He motions Leopold to rise. We hear the first dark fortissimo chord which begins the Overture to Don Giovanni: the theme associated with the character of the Commendatore. LEOPOLD (V.O.) My dear son. The second fortissimo chord sounds. INT. A BAROQUE CHURCH - DAY - 1780'S We see a huge CU, of Mozart's head, looking front and down, as if reading his father's letter. We hear Leopold's voice over this image, no longer whining and anxious, but impressive. LEOPOLD (V.O.) I write to you with urgent news. I am coming to Vienna. Take no further steps toward marriage until we meet. You are too gullible to see your own danger. As you honour the father who has devoted his entire life to yours, do as I bid, and await my coming. MOZART I will. The camera pulls back to see that he is in fact kneeling beside Constanze. A PRIEST faces them. Behind them are Madame Weber, Josefa and Sophie Weber, and a very few others. Among them, a merry looking lady in bright clothes: the BARONESS WALDSTADTEN. PRIEST And will you, Constanze Weber, take this man, Wolfgang to be your lawful husband? CONSTANZE I will. PRIEST I now pronounce you man and wife. The opening kyrie of the great Mass in C Minor is heard. Mozart and Constanze kiss. They are in tears. Madame Weber and her daughters look on approvingly. The music swells and continues under the following: INT. A ROOM IN LEOPOLD'S HOUSE - SALZBURG - NIGHT - 1780'S There is a view of a castle in background. Leopold sits alone in his room. He is reading a letter from Wolfgang. At his feet are his trunks, half-packed for the journey he will not now take. We hear Mozart's voice reading the following letter and we see, as the camera roves around the room, mementos of the young prodigy's early life: the little forte-piano made for him; the little violin made for him; an Order presented to him. We see a little starling in a wicker cage. And we see portraits of the boy on the walls, concluding with the familiar family portrait of Wolfgang and his sister Nannerl seated at the keyboard with Leopold standing, and the picture of their mother on the wall behind them. MOZART (V.O.) Most beloved father, it is done. Do not blame me that I did not wait to see your dear face. I knew you would have tried to dissuade me from my truest happiness and I could not have borne it. Your every word is precious to me. Remember how you have always told me Vienna is the City of Musicians. To conquer here is to conquer Europe! With my wife I can do it. I vow I will become regular in my habits and productive as never before. She is wonderful, Papa, and I know that you will love her. And one day soon when I am a wealthy man, you will come and live with us, and we will be so happy. I long for that day, best of Papas, and kiss your hand a hundred thousand times. The music of the Mass fades as Leopold crumples the letter in his hand. EXT. THE IMPERIAL GARDENS - VIENNA - DAY - 1780'S Salieri stands waiting, hat in hand. Beside him stands a royal servant. Behind him, gardeners are glimpsed tending the shrubs and bushes along a grassy ride. Down this ride are seen cantering two people on horseback: the Emperor Joseph and his niece, the PRINCESS ELIZABETH. They are mounted on glossy horses. The Princess rides side-saddle. Running beside her is a panting groom. The Emperor rides elegantly; his niece, a dumpy little Hapsburg girl of sixteen, like a sack of potatoes. As they draw level with Salieri they stop, and the groom holds the head of the Princess' horse. Salieri bows respectfully. JOSEPH Good morning, Court Composer. This is my niece, the Princess Elizabeth. SALIERI Your Highness. Out of breath, the Princess nods nervously. JOSEPH She has asked me to advise her on a suitable musical instructor. I think I've come up with an excellent idea. He smiles at Salieri. SALIERI Oh, Your Majesty, it would be such a tremendous honour! JOSEPH I'm thinking about Herr Mozart. What is your view? Salieri's face falls, almost imperceptibly. SALIERI An interesting idea, Majesty. But - JOSEPH Yes? SALIERI You already commissioned an opera from Mozart. JOSEPH And the result satisfies. SALIERI Yes, of course. My concern is to protect you from any suspicion of favouritism. JOSEPH Ah-ha. Favouritism. But I so want Mozart. SALIERI I'm sure there is a way, Majesty. Some kind of a little contest. I could perhaps put together a small Committee, and I could see to it naturally that it will select according to Your Majesty's wishes. JOSEPH You please me, Court Composer. A very clever idea. SALIERI (bowing) Sire. JOSEPH Well. There it is. He rides on. The groom releases her horse's head, and runs on after the Princess. CUT TO: INT. CHAMBERLAIN VON STRACK'S STUDY - DAY - 1780'S Von Strack sits stiffly behind his gilded desk. Mozart stands before him, trembling with anger. MOZART What is this, Herr Chamberlain? VON STRACK What is what? MOZART Why do I have to submit samples of my work to some stupid committee? Just to teach a sixteen-year-old girl. VON STRACK Because His Majesty wishes it. MOZART Is the Emperor angry with me? VON STRACK On the contrary. MOZART Then why doesn't he simply appoint me to the post? VON STRACK Mozart, you are not the only composer in Vienna. MOZART No, but I'm the best. VON STRACK A little modesty would suit you better. MOZART Who is on this committee? VON STRACK Kapellmeister Bonno, Count Orsini- Rosenberg and Court Composer Salieri. MOZART Naturally, the Italians! Of course! Always the Italians! VON STRACK Mozart - MOZART They hate my music. It terrifies them. The only sound Italians understand is banality. Tonic and dominant, tonic and dominant, from here to Resurrection! (singing angrily) Ba-ba! Ba-ba! Ba-ba! Ba-ba! Anything else is morbid. VON STRACK Mozart - MOZART Show them one interesting modulation and they faint. Ohime! Morbidezza! Morbidezza! Italians are musical idiots and you want them to judge my music! VON STRACK Look, young man, the issue is simple. If you want this post, you must submit your stuff in the same way as all your colleagues. MOZART Must I? Well, I won't! I tell you straight: I will not! CUT TO: INT. MOZART'S APARTMENT - BEDROOM - VIENNA - DAY - 1780'S The room is very small and untidy. Constanze is marching up and down it, upset. Mozart is lying on the bed. CONSTANZE I think you're mad! You're really mad! MOZART Oh, leave me alone. CONSTANZE One royal pupil and the whole of Vienna will come flocking. We'd be set up for life! MOZART They'll come anyway. They love me here. CONSTANZE No, they will not. I know how things work in this city. MOZART Oh yes? You always know everything. CONSTANZE Well, I'm not borrowing any more money from my mother, and that's that! MOZART You borrowed money from your mother? CONSTANZE Yes! MOZART Well, don't do that again! CONSTANZE How are we going to live, Wolfi? Do you want me to go into the streets and beg? MOZART Don't be stupid. CONSTANZE All they want to see is your work. What's wrong with that? MOZART Shut up! Just shut up! I don't need them. CONSTANZE This isn't pride. It's sheer stupidity! She glares at him, almost in tears. CUT TO: INT. SALIERI'S MUSIC ROOM - LATE AFTERNOON - 1780'S Salieri is giving a lesson to a girl student, who is singing the Italian art song, Caro Mio Ben. There is a knock on the door. SALIERI Yes. A SERVANT enters. SERVANT Excuse me, sir, there is a lady who insists on talking to you. SALIERI Who is she? SERVANT She didn't say. But she says it's urgent. SALIERI (to the pupil) Excuse me, my dear. Salieri goes into the salon. CUT TO: INT. THE SALON - LATE AFTERNOON - 1780'S Constanze stands, closely veiled, holding a portfolio stuffed with manuscripts. The singing lesson ends, with two chords on the instrument. Salieri enters the salon. Constanze drops him a shy curtsey. CONSTANZE Excellency! SALIERI Madame. How can I help you? Shyly, she unveils. SALIERI Frau Mozart? CONSTANZE That's right, Your Excellency. I've come on behalf of my hus band. I'm - I'm bringing some samples of his work so he can be considered for the royal appointment. SALIERI How charming. But why did he not come himself? CONSTANZE He's terribly busy, sir. SALIERI I understand. He takes the portfolio and puts it on a table. SALIERI I will look at them, of course, the moment I can. It will be an honour. Please give him my warmest. CONSTANZE Would it be too much trouble, sir, to ask you to look at them now? While I wait. SALIERI I'm afraid I'm not at leisure this very moment. Just leave them with me. I assure you they will be quite safe. CONSTANZE I - I really cannot do that, Your Excellency. You see, he doesn't know I'm here. SALIERI Really? CONSTANZE My husband is a proud man, sir. He would be furious if he knew I'd come. SALIERI Then he didn't send you? CONSTANZE No, sir. This is my own idea. SALIERI I see. CONSTANZE Sir, we really need this job. We're desperate. My husband spends far more than he can ever earn. I don't mean he's lazy - he's not at all - he works all day long. It's just! he's not practical. Money simply slips through his fingers, it's really ridiculous, Your Excellency. I know you help musicians. You're famous for it. Give him just this one post. We'd be forever indebted! A short pause. SALIERI Let me offer you some refreshment. Do you know what these are? He indicates a dish piled high with glazed chestnuts. SALIERI Cappezzoli di Venere. Nipples of Venus. Roman chestnuts in brandied sugar. Won't you try one? They're quite surprising. He offers her the dish. She takes one and puts it in her mouth. He watches carefully. CONSTANZE Oh! They're wonderful. He takes one himself. We notice on his finger a heavy gold signet-ring. CONSTANZE Thank you very much, Your Excellency. SALIERI Don't keep calling me that. It puts me at such a distance. I was not born a Court Composer, you know. I'm from a small town, just like your husband. He smiles at her. She takes another chestnut. SALIERI Are you sure you can't leave that music, and come back again? I have other things you might like. CONSTANZE That's very tempting, but it's impossible, I'm afraid. Wolfi would be frantic if he found those were missing. You see, they're all originals. SALIERI Originals? CONSTANZE Yes. A pause. He puts out his hand and takes up the portfolio from the table. He opens it. He looks at the music. He is puzzled. SALIERI These are originals? CONSTANZE Yes, sir. He doesn't make copies. CUT TO: INT. OLD SALIERI'S HOSPITAL ROOM - NIGHT - 1823 The old man faces the Priest. OLD SALIERI Astounding! It was actually beyond belief. These were first and only drafts of music yet they showed no corrections of any kind. Not one. Do you realize what that meant? Vogler stares at him. OLD SALIERI He'd simply put down music already finished in his head. Page after page of it, as if he was just taking dictation. And music finished as no music is ever finished. INT. SALIERI'S SALON - LATE AFTERNOON - 1780'S CU, The manuscript in Mozart's handwriting. The music begins to sound under the following: OLD SALIERI (V.O.) Displace one note and there would be diminishment. Displace one phrase, and the structure would fall. It was clear to me. That sound I had heard in the Archbishop's palace had been no accident. Here again was the very voice of God! I was staring through the cage of those meticulous ink- strokes at an absolute, inimitable beauty. The music swells. What we now hear is an amazing collage of great passages from Mozart's music, ravishing to Salieri and to us. The Court Composer, oblivious to Constanze, who sits happily chewing chestnuts, her mouth covered in sugar, walks around and around his salon, reading the pages and dropping them on the floor when he is done with them. We see his agonized and wondering face: he shudders as if in a rough and tumbling sea; he experiences the point where beauty and great pain coalesce. More pages fall than he can read, scattering across the floor in a white cascade, as he circles the room. Finally, we hear the tremendous Qui Tollis from the Mass in C Minor. It seems to break over him like a wave and, unable to bear any more of it, he slams the portfolio shut. Instantly, the music breaks off, reverberating in his head. He stands shaking, staring wildly. Constanze gets up, perplexed. CONSTANZE Is it no good? A pause. SALIERI It is miraculous. CONSTANZE Oh yes. He's really proud of his work. Another pause. CONSTANZE So, will you help him? Salieri tries to recover himself. SALIERI Tomorrow night I dine with the Emperor. One word from me and the post is his. CONSTANZE Oh, thank you, sir! Overjoyed, she stops and kisses his hand. He raises her - and then clasps her to him clumsily. She pushes herself away. SALIERI Come back tonight. CONSTANZE Tonight? SALIERI Alone. CONSTANZE What for? SALIERI Some service deserves service in return. No? CONSTANZE What do you mean? SALIERI Isn't it obvious? They stare at one another: Constanze in total disbelief. SALIERI It's a post all Vienna seeks. If you want it for your husband, come tonight. CONSTANZE But! I'm a married woman! SALIERI Then don't. It's up to you. Not to be vague, that is the price. He glares at her. SALIERI Yes. He rings a silver bell for a servant and abruptly leaves the roam. Constanze stares after him, horrified. The servant enters. Shocked and stunned, Constanze goes down an her knees and starts picking up the music from the floor. CUT TO: INT. OLD SALIERI'S HOSPITAL ROOM - NIGHT - 1823 CU, Father Vogler, horrified. OLD SALIERI Yes, Father. Yes! So much for my vow of chastity. What did it matter? Good, patient, hard-working, chaste - what did it matter? Had goodness made me a good composer? I realized it absolutely then - that moment: goodness is nothing in the furnace of art. And I was nothing to God. VOGLER (crying out) You cannot say that! OLD SALIERI No? Was Mozart a good man? VOGLER God's ways are not yours. And you are not here to question Him. Offer him the salt of penitence. He will give you back the bread of eternal life. He is all merciful. That is all you need to know. OLD SALIERI All I ever wanted was to sing to Him. That's His doing, isn't it? He gave me that longing - then made me mute. Why? Tell me that. If He didn't want me to serve Him with music, why implant the desire, like a lust in my body, then deny me the talent? Go on, tell me! Speak for Him! VOGLER My son, no one can speak for God. OLD SALIERI Oh? I thought you did so every day. So speak now. Answer me! VOGLER I do not claim to unravel the mysteries. I treasure them. As you should. OLD SALIERI (impatiently) Oh yes, yes, yes, yes, yes! Always the same stale answers! (intimately to the priest) There is no God of Mercy, Father. Just a God of torture. CUT TO: INT. SALIERI'S APARTMENT - BEDROOM - NIGHT - 1780'S Salieri sits at his desk, staring up at the cross. OLD SALIERI (V.O.) Evening came to that room. I sat there not knowing whether the girl would return or not. I prayed as I'd never prayed before. SALIERI Dear God, enter me now. Fill me with one piece of true music. One piece with your breath in it, so I know that you love me. Please. Just one. Show me one sign of your favour, and I will show mine to Mozart and his wife. I will get him the royal position, and if she comes, I'll receive her with all respect and send her home in joy. Enter me! Enter me! Please! Te imploro. Long, long silence. Salieri stares at the cross. Christ stares back at him impassively. Finally in this silence we hear a faint knocking at the door. Salieri stirs himself. A servant appears. SERVANT That lady is back, sir. SALIERI Show her in. Then go to bed. The Servant bows and leaves. We follow him through: INT. MUSIC ROOM IN SALIERI'S APARTMENT - NIGHT - 1780'S The Servant crosses it and enters: INT. SALON IN SALIERI'S APARTMENT - NIGHT - 1780'S Constanze is sitting on an upright chair, veiled as before, the portfolio of music on her lap. Through the far door leading from the hall, another servant is peering at her. The first servant joins him and shuts the door on the girl, leaving her alone. We stay with her. The clock ticks on the mantelpiece. We hear an old carriage pass in the street below. Nervously she lifts her veil and looks about her. Suddenly Salieri appears from the music room. He is pale and very tight. They regard each other. She smiles and rises to greet him, affecting a relaxed and warm manner, as if to put him at his ease. CONSTANZE Well, I'm here. My husband has gone to a concert. He didn't think I would enjoy it. A pause. CONSTANZE I do apologize for this afternoon. I behaved like a silly girl. Where shall we go? SALIERI What? CONSTANZE Should we stay here? It's a charming room. I love these candlesticks. Were they here earlier? I didn't notice them I suppose I was too nervous. As she talks, she extinguishes the candles in a pair of Venetian candelabra and subsequently other candles around the room. CONSTANZE Wolfgang was given some candlesticks by King George in England, but they were only wood. Oh, excuse me. Let's not talk about him. What do you think of this? It's real lace. Brussels. She turns and takes off her shawl. CONSTANZE Well, it's much too good for every day. I keep saying to Wolfi, don't be so extravagant. Presents are lovely, but we can't afford them. It doesn't do any good. The more I tell him, the more he spends. Oh, excuse me! There I go again. She picks up the portfolio. CONSTANZE Do you still want to look at this? Or don't we need to bother anymore? I imagine we don't, really. She looks at him inquiringly, and drops the portfolio on the floor; pages of music pour out of it. Instantly we hear a massive chord, and the great Qui Tollis from the Mass in C Minor fills the room. To its grand and weighty sound, Constanze starts to undress, watched by the horrified Salieri. Between him and her, music is an active presence, hurting and baffling him. He opens his mouth in distress. The music pounds in his head. The candle flickers over her as she removes her clothes and prepares for his embrace. Suddenly he cries out. SALIERI Go! Go! Go! He snatches up the bell and shakes it frantically, not stopping until the two servants we saw earlier appear at the door. The music stops abruptly. They stare at the appalled and frightened Constanze, who is desperately trying to cover her nakedness. SALIERI Show this woman out! Constanze hurls herself at him. CONSTANZE You shit! You shit! You rotten shit! He seizes her wrists and thrusts her back. Then he leaves the room quickly, slamming the door behind him. Constanze turns and sees the two servants goggling at her in the room. CONSTANZE What are you staring at? Wildly, she picks up the candelabrum and throws it at them. It shatters on the floor. INT. SALIERI'S APARTMENT - BEDROOM - NIGHT - 1780'S CU, Salieri standing, his eyes shut, shaking in distress. He opens them and sees Christ across the room, staring at him from the wall. OLD SALIERI (V.O.) From now on, we are enemies, You and I! CUT TO: INT. OLD SALIERI'S HOSPITAL ROOM - NIGHT - 1823 The old man is reliving the experience. Vogler looks at him, horrified. OLD SALIERI Because You will not enter me, with all my need for you; because You scorn my attempts at virtue; because You choose for Your instrument a boastful, lustful, smutty infantile boy and give me for reward only the ability to recognize the Incarnation; because You are unjust, unfair, unkind, I will block You! I swear it! I will hinder and harm Your creature on earth as far as I am able. I will ruin Your Incarnation. CUT BACK TO: INT. SALIERI'S APARTMENT - BEDROOM - NIGHT - 1780'S CU, the fireplace. In it lies the olivewood Christ on the cross, burning. OLD SALIERI (V.O.) What use after all is Man, if not to teach God His lessons? The cross flames up and disintegrates. Salieri stares at it. CUT TO: INT. MOZART'S APARTMENT - LIVING ROOM - NIGHT - 1780'S The front door bursts open. Mozart stumbles in, followed by EMMANUEL SCHIKANEDER, three young actresses, and another man, all fairly drunk. Schikaneder (who appears everywhere accompanied by young girls) is a large, fleshy, extravagant man of about thirty-five. MOZART Stanzi! Stanzi! Stanzi-Manzi! The others laugh. MOZART Sssh! SCHIKANEDER (imitating Mozart) Stanzi-Manzi-Banzi-Wanzi! MOZART Sssh! Stay here. He walks unsteadily to the bedroom door and opens it. SCHIKANEDER (to the girls, very tipsy) Sssh! You're dishgrashful! INT. MOZART'S APARTMENT - BEDROOM - NIGHT - 1780'S Constanze lies in bed, her back turned to her husband, who comes into the room and shuts the door. MOZART (playfully) Stanzi? How's my mouse? Mouse-wouse? I'm back - puss-wuss is back! She turns around abruptly. She looks dreadful; her eyes red with weeping. Mozart is shocked. MOZART Stanzi! He approaches the bed and sits on it. Immediately she starts crying again, desperately. MOZART What's the matter? What is it? Stanzi! He holds her and she clings to him in a fierce embrace, crying a flood of tears. MOZART Stop it now. Stop it. I've brought some friends to meet you. They're next door waiting. Do we have anything to eat? They're all starving. CONSTANZE Tell them to go away. I don't want to see anybody. MOZART What's the matter with you? CONSTANZE Tell them to go! MOZART Sssh. What is it? Tell me. CONSTANZE No! MOZART Yes! CONSTANZE I love you! I love you! She starts crying again, throwing her arms around his neck. CONSTANZE I love you. Please stay with me. I'm frightened. INT. THE ROYAL PALACE - DINING ROOM - DAY - 1780'S Joseph sits eating. A butler serves him goat's milk to drink. Joseph is holding a memorandum from Salieri in his hand. Salieri stands before him. JOSEPH I don't think you understand me, Court Composer. SALIERI Majesty, I did. Believe me, it was a most agonizing. decision. But finally, I simply could not recommend Herr Mozart. JOSEPH Why not? SALIERI Well, Sire, I made some inquiries in a routine way. I was curious to know why he had so few pupils. It is rather alarming. JOSEPH Oh? With a gesture Joseph dismisses the butler, who bows and leaves the room. SALIERI Majesty, I don't like to talk against a fellow musician. JOSEPH Of course not. SALIERI I have to tell you, Mozart is not entirely to be trusted alone with young ladies. JOSEPH Really? SALIERI As a matter of fact, one of my own pupils - a very young singer - told me she was - er - well! JOSEPH Yes? SALIERI Molested, Majesty. Twice, in the course of the same lesson. A pause. JOSEPH Ah-ha. Well. There it is. INT. SALIERI'S HOUSE - STAIRCASE - VIENNA - DAY - 1780'S Salieri has just returned from the palace and is coming up the staircase. He is met by his servant. SERVANT Sir, there is a Herr Mozart waiting for you in the salon. Salieri is plainly alarmed. SALIERI What does he want? SERVANT He didn't say, sir. I told him I didn't know when you would be back, but he insisted on waiting. SALIERI Come with me. And stay in the room. He mounts the stairs. INT. SALIERI'S APARTMENT - SALON - DAY - 1780'S Mozart is waiting for Salieri, holding a portfolio. Salieri approaches him nervously. Mozart stands not belligerently, but humbly. SALIERI Herr Mozart, what brings you here? MOZART Your Excellency, you requested some specimens of my work. Here they are. I don't have to tell you how much I need your help. I truly appreciate your looking at these. I have pressures on me - financial pressures. As you know, I'm a married man now. SALIERI So you are. How is your pretty wife? MOZART She is well. She is - well, actually, I'm about to become a father! She only told me last night. You are the first to know. SALIERI I'm flattered. And congratulations to you, of course. MOZART So you see, this post is very important to me right now. Salieri looks at him in distress. SALIERI Why didn't you come to me yesterday, Mozart? This is a most painful situation. Yesterday I could have helped you. Today, I can't. MOZART Why? Here is the music. It's here. I am submitting it humbly. Isn't that what you wanted? SALIERI I have just come from the palace. The post has been filled. MOZART Filled? That's impossible! They haven't even seen my work. I need this post. Please, can't you help me? Please! SALIERI My dear Mozart, there is no one in the world I would rather help, but now it is too late. MOZART Whom did they choose? SALIERI Herr Sommer. MOZART Sommer? Herr Sommer? But the man's a fool! He's a total mediocrity. SALIERI No, no, no: he has yet to achieve mediocrity. MOZART But I can't lose this post, I simply can't! Excellency, please. Let's go to the palace, and you can explain to the Emperor that Herr Sommer is an awful choice. He could actually do musical harm to the Princess! SALIERI An implausible idea. Between you and me, no one in the world could do musical harm to the Princess Elizabeth. Mozart chuckles delightedly. Salieri offers him a glass of white dessert and a spoon. Mozart takes it absently and goes on talking. MOZART Look, I must have pupils. Without pupils I can't manage. SALIERI You don't mean to tell me you are living in poverty? MOZART No, but I'm broke. I'm always broke. I don't know why. SALIERI It has been said, my friend, that you are inclined to live somewhat above your means. MOZART How can anyone say that? We have no cook, no maid. We have no footman. Nothing at all! SALIERI How is that possible? You give concerts, don't you? I hear they are quite successful. MOZART They're stupendously successful. You can't get a seat. The only problem is none will hire me. They all want to hear me play, but they won't let me teach their daughters. As if I was some kind of fiend. I'm not a fiend! SALIERI Of course not. MOZART Do you have a daughter? SALIERI I'm afraid not. MOZART Well, could you lend me some money till you have one?

designs

How many times the word 'designs' appears in the text?

All the same, why him? Why use Mozart to teach me lessons in humility? My heart was filling up with such hatred for that little man. For the first time in my life I began to know really violent thoughts. I couldn't stop them. VOGLER Did you try? OLD SALIERI Every day. Sometimes for hours I would pray! INT. SALIERI'S APARTMENT - BEDROOM - DAY - 1780'S The young Salieri is kneeling in desperation before the Cross. SALIERI Please! Please! Send him away, back to Salzburg. For his sake as well as mine. CU, Christ staring from the Cross. CUT BACK TO: INT. AUDIENCE HALL - ARCHBISHOP'S PALACE - SALZBURG - DAY - 1780'S We see Leopold kneeling now not to the Cross but to Archbishop Colloredo, sitting impassively on his throne. Count Arco stands beside him. Leopold is a desperate, once-handsome man of sixty, now far too much the subservient courtier. COLLOREDO No! I won't have him back. LEOPOLD But he needs to be here in Salzburg, Your Grace. He needs me and he needs you. Your protection, your understanding. COLLOREDO Hardly. LEOPOLD Oh sir, yes! He's about to make the worst mistake of his life. Some little Viennese slut is trying to trick him into marriage. I know my son. He is too simple to see the trap - and there is no one there who really cares for him. COLLOREDO I'm not surprised. Money seems to be more important to him than loyalty or friendship. He has sold himself to Vienna. Let Vienna look out for him. LEOPOLD Sir - COLLOREDO Your son is an unprincipled, spoiled, conceited brat. LEOPOLD Yes, sir, that's the truth. But don't blame him. The fault is mine. I was too indulgent with him. But not again. Never again, I promise! I implore you - let me bring him back here. I'll make him give his word to serve you faithfully. COLLOREDO And how will you make him keep it? LEOPOLD Oh, sir, he's never disobeyed me in anything. Please, Your Grace, give him one more chance. COLLOREDO You have leave to try. LEOPOLD Oh, Your Grace - I thank Your Grace! I thank you! In deepest gratitude he kisses the Archbishop's hand. He motions Leopold to rise. We hear the first dark fortissimo chord which begins the Overture to Don Giovanni: the theme associated with the character of the Commendatore. LEOPOLD (V.O.) My dear son. The second fortissimo chord sounds. INT. A BAROQUE CHURCH - DAY - 1780'S We see a huge CU, of Mozart's head, looking front and down, as if reading his father's letter. We hear Leopold's voice over this image, no longer whining and anxious, but impressive. LEOPOLD (V.O.) I write to you with urgent news. I am coming to Vienna. Take no further steps toward marriage until we meet. You are too gullible to see your own danger. As you honour the father who has devoted his entire life to yours, do as I bid, and await my coming. MOZART I will. The camera pulls back to see that he is in fact kneeling beside Constanze. A PRIEST faces them. Behind them are Madame Weber, Josefa and Sophie Weber, and a very few others. Among them, a merry looking lady in bright clothes: the BARONESS WALDSTADTEN. PRIEST And will you, Constanze Weber, take this man, Wolfgang to be your lawful husband? CONSTANZE I will. PRIEST I now pronounce you man and wife. The opening kyrie of the great Mass in C Minor is heard. Mozart and Constanze kiss. They are in tears. Madame Weber and her daughters look on approvingly. The music swells and continues under the following: INT. A ROOM IN LEOPOLD'S HOUSE - SALZBURG - NIGHT - 1780'S There is a view of a castle in background. Leopold sits alone in his room. He is reading a letter from Wolfgang. At his feet are his trunks, half-packed for the journey he will not now take. We hear Mozart's voice reading the following letter and we see, as the camera roves around the room, mementos of the young prodigy's early life: the little forte-piano made for him; the little violin made for him; an Order presented to him. We see a little starling in a wicker cage. And we see portraits of the boy on the walls, concluding with the familiar family portrait of Wolfgang and his sister Nannerl seated at the keyboard with Leopold standing, and the picture of their mother on the wall behind them. MOZART (V.O.) Most beloved father, it is done. Do not blame me that I did not wait to see your dear face. I knew you would have tried to dissuade me from my truest happiness and I could not have borne it. Your every word is precious to me. Remember how you have always told me Vienna is the City of Musicians. To conquer here is to conquer Europe! With my wife I can do it. I vow I will become regular in my habits and productive as never before. She is wonderful, Papa, and I know that you will love her. And one day soon when I am a wealthy man, you will come and live with us, and we will be so happy. I long for that day, best of Papas, and kiss your hand a hundred thousand times. The music of the Mass fades as Leopold crumples the letter in his hand. EXT. THE IMPERIAL GARDENS - VIENNA - DAY - 1780'S Salieri stands waiting, hat in hand. Beside him stands a royal servant. Behind him, gardeners are glimpsed tending the shrubs and bushes along a grassy ride. Down this ride are seen cantering two people on horseback: the Emperor Joseph and his niece, the PRINCESS ELIZABETH. They are mounted on glossy horses. The Princess rides side-saddle. Running beside her is a panting groom. The Emperor rides elegantly; his niece, a dumpy little Hapsburg girl of sixteen, like a sack of potatoes. As they draw level with Salieri they stop, and the groom holds the head of the Princess' horse. Salieri bows respectfully. JOSEPH Good morning, Court Composer. This is my niece, the Princess Elizabeth. SALIERI Your Highness. Out of breath, the Princess nods nervously. JOSEPH She has asked me to advise her on a suitable musical instructor. I think I've come up with an excellent idea. He smiles at Salieri. SALIERI Oh, Your Majesty, it would be such a tremendous honour! JOSEPH I'm thinking about Herr Mozart. What is your view? Salieri's face falls, almost imperceptibly. SALIERI An interesting idea, Majesty. But - JOSEPH Yes? SALIERI You already commissioned an opera from Mozart. JOSEPH And the result satisfies. SALIERI Yes, of course. My concern is to protect you from any suspicion of favouritism. JOSEPH Ah-ha. Favouritism. But I so want Mozart. SALIERI I'm sure there is a way, Majesty. Some kind of a little contest. I could perhaps put together a small Committee, and I could see to it naturally that it will select according to Your Majesty's wishes. JOSEPH You please me, Court Composer. A very clever idea. SALIERI (bowing) Sire. JOSEPH Well. There it is. He rides on. The groom releases her horse's head, and runs on after the Princess. CUT TO: INT. CHAMBERLAIN VON STRACK'S STUDY - DAY - 1780'S Von Strack sits stiffly behind his gilded desk. Mozart stands before him, trembling with anger. MOZART What is this, Herr Chamberlain? VON STRACK What is what? MOZART Why do I have to submit samples of my work to some stupid committee? Just to teach a sixteen-year-old girl. VON STRACK Because His Majesty wishes it. MOZART Is the Emperor angry with me? VON STRACK On the contrary. MOZART Then why doesn't he simply appoint me to the post? VON STRACK Mozart, you are not the only composer in Vienna. MOZART No, but I'm the best. VON STRACK A little modesty would suit you better. MOZART Who is on this committee? VON STRACK Kapellmeister Bonno, Count Orsini- Rosenberg and Court Composer Salieri. MOZART Naturally, the Italians! Of course! Always the Italians! VON STRACK Mozart - MOZART They hate my music. It terrifies them. The only sound Italians understand is banality. Tonic and dominant, tonic and dominant, from here to Resurrection! (singing angrily) Ba-ba! Ba-ba! Ba-ba! Ba-ba! Anything else is morbid. VON STRACK Mozart - MOZART Show them one interesting modulation and they faint. Ohime! Morbidezza! Morbidezza! Italians are musical idiots and you want them to judge my music! VON STRACK Look, young man, the issue is simple. If you want this post, you must submit your stuff in the same way as all your colleagues. MOZART Must I? Well, I won't! I tell you straight: I will not! CUT TO: INT. MOZART'S APARTMENT - BEDROOM - VIENNA - DAY - 1780'S The room is very small and untidy. Constanze is marching up and down it, upset. Mozart is lying on the bed. CONSTANZE I think you're mad! You're really mad! MOZART Oh, leave me alone. CONSTANZE One royal pupil and the whole of Vienna will come flocking. We'd be set up for life! MOZART They'll come anyway. They love me here. CONSTANZE No, they will not. I know how things work in this city. MOZART Oh yes? You always know everything. CONSTANZE Well, I'm not borrowing any more money from my mother, and that's that! MOZART You borrowed money from your mother? CONSTANZE Yes! MOZART Well, don't do that again! CONSTANZE How are we going to live, Wolfi? Do you want me to go into the streets and beg? MOZART Don't be stupid. CONSTANZE All they want to see is your work. What's wrong with that? MOZART Shut up! Just shut up! I don't need them. CONSTANZE This isn't pride. It's sheer stupidity! She glares at him, almost in tears. CUT TO: INT. SALIERI'S MUSIC ROOM - LATE AFTERNOON - 1780'S Salieri is giving a lesson to a girl student, who is singing the Italian art song, Caro Mio Ben. There is a knock on the door. SALIERI Yes. A SERVANT enters. SERVANT Excuse me, sir, there is a lady who insists on talking to you. SALIERI Who is she? SERVANT She didn't say. But she says it's urgent. SALIERI (to the pupil) Excuse me, my dear. Salieri goes into the salon. CUT TO: INT. THE SALON - LATE AFTERNOON - 1780'S Constanze stands, closely veiled, holding a portfolio stuffed with manuscripts. The singing lesson ends, with two chords on the instrument. Salieri enters the salon. Constanze drops him a shy curtsey. CONSTANZE Excellency! SALIERI Madame. How can I help you? Shyly, she unveils. SALIERI Frau Mozart? CONSTANZE That's right, Your Excellency. I've come on behalf of my hus band. I'm - I'm bringing some samples of his work so he can be considered for the royal appointment. SALIERI How charming. But why did he not come himself? CONSTANZE He's terribly busy, sir. SALIERI I understand. He takes the portfolio and puts it on a table. SALIERI I will look at them, of course, the moment I can. It will be an honour. Please give him my warmest. CONSTANZE Would it be too much trouble, sir, to ask you to look at them now? While I wait. SALIERI I'm afraid I'm not at leisure this very moment. Just leave them with me. I assure you they will be quite safe. CONSTANZE I - I really cannot do that, Your Excellency. You see, he doesn't know I'm here. SALIERI Really? CONSTANZE My husband is a proud man, sir. He would be furious if he knew I'd come. SALIERI Then he didn't send you? CONSTANZE No, sir. This is my own idea. SALIERI I see. CONSTANZE Sir, we really need this job. We're desperate. My husband spends far more than he can ever earn. I don't mean he's lazy - he's not at all - he works all day long. It's just! he's not practical. Money simply slips through his fingers, it's really ridiculous, Your Excellency. I know you help musicians. You're famous for it. Give him just this one post. We'd be forever indebted! A short pause. SALIERI Let me offer you some refreshment. Do you know what these are? He indicates a dish piled high with glazed chestnuts. SALIERI Cappezzoli di Venere. Nipples of Venus. Roman chestnuts in brandied sugar. Won't you try one? They're quite surprising. He offers her the dish. She takes one and puts it in her mouth. He watches carefully. CONSTANZE Oh! They're wonderful. He takes one himself. We notice on his finger a heavy gold signet-ring. CONSTANZE Thank you very much, Your Excellency. SALIERI Don't keep calling me that. It puts me at such a distance. I was not born a Court Composer, you know. I'm from a small town, just like your husband. He smiles at her. She takes another chestnut. SALIERI Are you sure you can't leave that music, and come back again? I have other things you might like. CONSTANZE That's very tempting, but it's impossible, I'm afraid. Wolfi would be frantic if he found those were missing. You see, they're all originals. SALIERI Originals? CONSTANZE Yes. A pause. He puts out his hand and takes up the portfolio from the table. He opens it. He looks at the music. He is puzzled. SALIERI These are originals? CONSTANZE Yes, sir. He doesn't make copies. CUT TO: INT. OLD SALIERI'S HOSPITAL ROOM - NIGHT - 1823 The old man faces the Priest. OLD SALIERI Astounding! It was actually beyond belief. These were first and only drafts of music yet they showed no corrections of any kind. Not one. Do you realize what that meant? Vogler stares at him. OLD SALIERI He'd simply put down music already finished in his head. Page after page of it, as if he was just taking dictation. And music finished as no music is ever finished. INT. SALIERI'S SALON - LATE AFTERNOON - 1780'S CU, The manuscript in Mozart's handwriting. The music begins to sound under the following: OLD SALIERI (V.O.) Displace one note and there would be diminishment. Displace one phrase, and the structure would fall. It was clear to me. That sound I had heard in the Archbishop's palace had been no accident. Here again was the very voice of God! I was staring through the cage of those meticulous ink- strokes at an absolute, inimitable beauty. The music swells. What we now hear is an amazing collage of great passages from Mozart's music, ravishing to Salieri and to us. The Court Composer, oblivious to Constanze, who sits happily chewing chestnuts, her mouth covered in sugar, walks around and around his salon, reading the pages and dropping them on the floor when he is done with them. We see his agonized and wondering face: he shudders as if in a rough and tumbling sea; he experiences the point where beauty and great pain coalesce. More pages fall than he can read, scattering across the floor in a white cascade, as he circles the room. Finally, we hear the tremendous Qui Tollis from the Mass in C Minor. It seems to break over him like a wave and, unable to bear any more of it, he slams the portfolio shut. Instantly, the music breaks off, reverberating in his head. He stands shaking, staring wildly. Constanze gets up, perplexed. CONSTANZE Is it no good? A pause. SALIERI It is miraculous. CONSTANZE Oh yes. He's really proud of his work. Another pause. CONSTANZE So, will you help him? Salieri tries to recover himself. SALIERI Tomorrow night I dine with the Emperor. One word from me and the post is his. CONSTANZE Oh, thank you, sir! Overjoyed, she stops and kisses his hand. He raises her - and then clasps her to him clumsily. She pushes herself away. SALIERI Come back tonight. CONSTANZE Tonight? SALIERI Alone. CONSTANZE What for? SALIERI Some service deserves service in return. No? CONSTANZE What do you mean? SALIERI Isn't it obvious? They stare at one another: Constanze in total disbelief. SALIERI It's a post all Vienna seeks. If you want it for your husband, come tonight. CONSTANZE But! I'm a married woman! SALIERI Then don't. It's up to you. Not to be vague, that is the price. He glares at her. SALIERI Yes. He rings a silver bell for a servant and abruptly leaves the roam. Constanze stares after him, horrified. The servant enters. Shocked and stunned, Constanze goes down an her knees and starts picking up the music from the floor. CUT TO: INT. OLD SALIERI'S HOSPITAL ROOM - NIGHT - 1823 CU, Father Vogler, horrified. OLD SALIERI Yes, Father. Yes! So much for my vow of chastity. What did it matter? Good, patient, hard-working, chaste - what did it matter? Had goodness made me a good composer? I realized it absolutely then - that moment: goodness is nothing in the furnace of art. And I was nothing to God. VOGLER (crying out) You cannot say that! OLD SALIERI No? Was Mozart a good man? VOGLER God's ways are not yours. And you are not here to question Him. Offer him the salt of penitence. He will give you back the bread of eternal life. He is all merciful. That is all you need to know. OLD SALIERI All I ever wanted was to sing to Him. That's His doing, isn't it? He gave me that longing - then made me mute. Why? Tell me that. If He didn't want me to serve Him with music, why implant the desire, like a lust in my body, then deny me the talent? Go on, tell me! Speak for Him! VOGLER My son, no one can speak for God. OLD SALIERI Oh? I thought you did so every day. So speak now. Answer me! VOGLER I do not claim to unravel the mysteries. I treasure them. As you should. OLD SALIERI (impatiently) Oh yes, yes, yes, yes, yes! Always the same stale answers! (intimately to the priest) There is no God of Mercy, Father. Just a God of torture. CUT TO: INT. SALIERI'S APARTMENT - BEDROOM - NIGHT - 1780'S Salieri sits at his desk, staring up at the cross. OLD SALIERI (V.O.) Evening came to that room. I sat there not knowing whether the girl would return or not. I prayed as I'd never prayed before. SALIERI Dear God, enter me now. Fill me with one piece of true music. One piece with your breath in it, so I know that you love me. Please. Just one. Show me one sign of your favour, and I will show mine to Mozart and his wife. I will get him the royal position, and if she comes, I'll receive her with all respect and send her home in joy. Enter me! Enter me! Please! Te imploro. Long, long silence. Salieri stares at the cross. Christ stares back at him impassively. Finally in this silence we hear a faint knocking at the door. Salieri stirs himself. A servant appears. SERVANT That lady is back, sir. SALIERI Show her in. Then go to bed. The Servant bows and leaves. We follow him through: INT. MUSIC ROOM IN SALIERI'S APARTMENT - NIGHT - 1780'S The Servant crosses it and enters: INT. SALON IN SALIERI'S APARTMENT - NIGHT - 1780'S Constanze is sitting on an upright chair, veiled as before, the portfolio of music on her lap. Through the far door leading from the hall, another servant is peering at her. The first servant joins him and shuts the door on the girl, leaving her alone. We stay with her. The clock ticks on the mantelpiece. We hear an old carriage pass in the street below. Nervously she lifts her veil and looks about her. Suddenly Salieri appears from the music room. He is pale and very tight. They regard each other. She smiles and rises to greet him, affecting a relaxed and warm manner, as if to put him at his ease. CONSTANZE Well, I'm here. My husband has gone to a concert. He didn't think I would enjoy it. A pause. CONSTANZE I do apologize for this afternoon. I behaved like a silly girl. Where shall we go? SALIERI What? CONSTANZE Should we stay here? It's a charming room. I love these candlesticks. Were they here earlier? I didn't notice them I suppose I was too nervous. As she talks, she extinguishes the candles in a pair of Venetian candelabra and subsequently other candles around the room. CONSTANZE Wolfgang was given some candlesticks by King George in England, but they were only wood. Oh, excuse me. Let's not talk about him. What do you think of this? It's real lace. Brussels. She turns and takes off her shawl. CONSTANZE Well, it's much too good for every day. I keep saying to Wolfi, don't be so extravagant. Presents are lovely, but we can't afford them. It doesn't do any good. The more I tell him, the more he spends. Oh, excuse me! There I go again. She picks up the portfolio. CONSTANZE Do you still want to look at this? Or don't we need to bother anymore? I imagine we don't, really. She looks at him inquiringly, and drops the portfolio on the floor; pages of music pour out of it. Instantly we hear a massive chord, and the great Qui Tollis from the Mass in C Minor fills the room. To its grand and weighty sound, Constanze starts to undress, watched by the horrified Salieri. Between him and her, music is an active presence, hurting and baffling him. He opens his mouth in distress. The music pounds in his head. The candle flickers over her as she removes her clothes and prepares for his embrace. Suddenly he cries out. SALIERI Go! Go! Go! He snatches up the bell and shakes it frantically, not stopping until the two servants we saw earlier appear at the door. The music stops abruptly. They stare at the appalled and frightened Constanze, who is desperately trying to cover her nakedness. SALIERI Show this woman out! Constanze hurls herself at him. CONSTANZE You shit! You shit! You rotten shit! He seizes her wrists and thrusts her back. Then he leaves the room quickly, slamming the door behind him. Constanze turns and sees the two servants goggling at her in the room. CONSTANZE What are you staring at? Wildly, she picks up the candelabrum and throws it at them. It shatters on the floor. INT. SALIERI'S APARTMENT - BEDROOM - NIGHT - 1780'S CU, Salieri standing, his eyes shut, shaking in distress. He opens them and sees Christ across the room, staring at him from the wall. OLD SALIERI (V.O.) From now on, we are enemies, You and I! CUT TO: INT. OLD SALIERI'S HOSPITAL ROOM - NIGHT - 1823 The old man is reliving the experience. Vogler looks at him, horrified. OLD SALIERI Because You will not enter me, with all my need for you; because You scorn my attempts at virtue; because You choose for Your instrument a boastful, lustful, smutty infantile boy and give me for reward only the ability to recognize the Incarnation; because You are unjust, unfair, unkind, I will block You! I swear it! I will hinder and harm Your creature on earth as far as I am able. I will ruin Your Incarnation. CUT BACK TO: INT. SALIERI'S APARTMENT - BEDROOM - NIGHT - 1780'S CU, the fireplace. In it lies the olivewood Christ on the cross, burning. OLD SALIERI (V.O.) What use after all is Man, if not to teach God His lessons? The cross flames up and disintegrates. Salieri stares at it. CUT TO: INT. MOZART'S APARTMENT - LIVING ROOM - NIGHT - 1780'S The front door bursts open. Mozart stumbles in, followed by EMMANUEL SCHIKANEDER, three young actresses, and another man, all fairly drunk. Schikaneder (who appears everywhere accompanied by young girls) is a large, fleshy, extravagant man of about thirty-five. MOZART Stanzi! Stanzi! Stanzi-Manzi! The others laugh. MOZART Sssh! SCHIKANEDER (imitating Mozart) Stanzi-Manzi-Banzi-Wanzi! MOZART Sssh! Stay here. He walks unsteadily to the bedroom door and opens it. SCHIKANEDER (to the girls, very tipsy) Sssh! You're dishgrashful! INT. MOZART'S APARTMENT - BEDROOM - NIGHT - 1780'S Constanze lies in bed, her back turned to her husband, who comes into the room and shuts the door. MOZART (playfully) Stanzi? How's my mouse? Mouse-wouse? I'm back - puss-wuss is back! She turns around abruptly. She looks dreadful; her eyes red with weeping. Mozart is shocked. MOZART Stanzi! He approaches the bed and sits on it. Immediately she starts crying again, desperately. MOZART What's the matter? What is it? Stanzi! He holds her and she clings to him in a fierce embrace, crying a flood of tears. MOZART Stop it now. Stop it. I've brought some friends to meet you. They're next door waiting. Do we have anything to eat? They're all starving. CONSTANZE Tell them to go away. I don't want to see anybody. MOZART What's the matter with you? CONSTANZE Tell them to go! MOZART Sssh. What is it? Tell me. CONSTANZE No! MOZART Yes! CONSTANZE I love you! I love you! She starts crying again, throwing her arms around his neck. CONSTANZE I love you. Please stay with me. I'm frightened. INT. THE ROYAL PALACE - DINING ROOM - DAY - 1780'S Joseph sits eating. A butler serves him goat's milk to drink. Joseph is holding a memorandum from Salieri in his hand. Salieri stands before him. JOSEPH I don't think you understand me, Court Composer. SALIERI Majesty, I did. Believe me, it was a most agonizing. decision. But finally, I simply could not recommend Herr Mozart. JOSEPH Why not? SALIERI Well, Sire, I made some inquiries in a routine way. I was curious to know why he had so few pupils. It is rather alarming. JOSEPH Oh? With a gesture Joseph dismisses the butler, who bows and leaves the room. SALIERI Majesty, I don't like to talk against a fellow musician. JOSEPH Of course not. SALIERI I have to tell you, Mozart is not entirely to be trusted alone with young ladies. JOSEPH Really? SALIERI As a matter of fact, one of my own pupils - a very young singer - told me she was - er - well! JOSEPH Yes? SALIERI Molested, Majesty. Twice, in the course of the same lesson. A pause. JOSEPH Ah-ha. Well. There it is. INT. SALIERI'S HOUSE - STAIRCASE - VIENNA - DAY - 1780'S Salieri has just returned from the palace and is coming up the staircase. He is met by his servant. SERVANT Sir, there is a Herr Mozart waiting for you in the salon. Salieri is plainly alarmed. SALIERI What does he want? SERVANT He didn't say, sir. I told him I didn't know when you would be back, but he insisted on waiting. SALIERI Come with me. And stay in the room. He mounts the stairs. INT. SALIERI'S APARTMENT - SALON - DAY - 1780'S Mozart is waiting for Salieri, holding a portfolio. Salieri approaches him nervously. Mozart stands not belligerently, but humbly. SALIERI Herr Mozart, what brings you here? MOZART Your Excellency, you requested some specimens of my work. Here they are. I don't have to tell you how much I need your help. I truly appreciate your looking at these. I have pressures on me - financial pressures. As you know, I'm a married man now. SALIERI So you are. How is your pretty wife? MOZART She is well. She is - well, actually, I'm about to become a father! She only told me last night. You are the first to know. SALIERI I'm flattered. And congratulations to you, of course. MOZART So you see, this post is very important to me right now. Salieri looks at him in distress. SALIERI Why didn't you come to me yesterday, Mozart? This is a most painful situation. Yesterday I could have helped you. Today, I can't. MOZART Why? Here is the music. It's here. I am submitting it humbly. Isn't that what you wanted? SALIERI I have just come from the palace. The post has been filled. MOZART Filled? That's impossible! They haven't even seen my work. I need this post. Please, can't you help me? Please! SALIERI My dear Mozart, there is no one in the world I would rather help, but now it is too late. MOZART Whom did they choose? SALIERI Herr Sommer. MOZART Sommer? Herr Sommer? But the man's a fool! He's a total mediocrity. SALIERI No, no, no: he has yet to achieve mediocrity. MOZART But I can't lose this post, I simply can't! Excellency, please. Let's go to the palace, and you can explain to the Emperor that Herr Sommer is an awful choice. He could actually do musical harm to the Princess! SALIERI An implausible idea. Between you and me, no one in the world could do musical harm to the Princess Elizabeth. Mozart chuckles delightedly. Salieri offers him a glass of white dessert and a spoon. Mozart takes it absently and goes on talking. MOZART Look, I must have pupils. Without pupils I can't manage. SALIERI You don't mean to tell me you are living in poverty? MOZART No, but I'm broke. I'm always broke. I don't know why. SALIERI It has been said, my friend, that you are inclined to live somewhat above your means. MOZART How can anyone say that? We have no cook, no maid. We have no footman. Nothing at all! SALIERI How is that possible? You give concerts, don't you? I hear they are quite successful. MOZART They're stupendously successful. You can't get a seat. The only problem is none will hire me. They all want to hear me play, but they won't let me teach their daughters. As if I was some kind of fiend. I'm not a fiend! SALIERI Of course not. MOZART Do you have a daughter? SALIERI I'm afraid not. MOZART Well, could you lend me some money till you have one?

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All the same, why him? Why use Mozart to teach me lessons in humility? My heart was filling up with such hatred for that little man. For the first time in my life I began to know really violent thoughts. I couldn't stop them. VOGLER Did you try? OLD SALIERI Every day. Sometimes for hours I would pray! INT. SALIERI'S APARTMENT - BEDROOM - DAY - 1780'S The young Salieri is kneeling in desperation before the Cross. SALIERI Please! Please! Send him away, back to Salzburg. For his sake as well as mine. CU, Christ staring from the Cross. CUT BACK TO: INT. AUDIENCE HALL - ARCHBISHOP'S PALACE - SALZBURG - DAY - 1780'S We see Leopold kneeling now not to the Cross but to Archbishop Colloredo, sitting impassively on his throne. Count Arco stands beside him. Leopold is a desperate, once-handsome man of sixty, now far too much the subservient courtier. COLLOREDO No! I won't have him back. LEOPOLD But he needs to be here in Salzburg, Your Grace. He needs me and he needs you. Your protection, your understanding. COLLOREDO Hardly. LEOPOLD Oh sir, yes! He's about to make the worst mistake of his life. Some little Viennese slut is trying to trick him into marriage. I know my son. He is too simple to see the trap - and there is no one there who really cares for him. COLLOREDO I'm not surprised. Money seems to be more important to him than loyalty or friendship. He has sold himself to Vienna. Let Vienna look out for him. LEOPOLD Sir - COLLOREDO Your son is an unprincipled, spoiled, conceited brat. LEOPOLD Yes, sir, that's the truth. But don't blame him. The fault is mine. I was too indulgent with him. But not again. Never again, I promise! I implore you - let me bring him back here. I'll make him give his word to serve you faithfully. COLLOREDO And how will you make him keep it? LEOPOLD Oh, sir, he's never disobeyed me in anything. Please, Your Grace, give him one more chance. COLLOREDO You have leave to try. LEOPOLD Oh, Your Grace - I thank Your Grace! I thank you! In deepest gratitude he kisses the Archbishop's hand. He motions Leopold to rise. We hear the first dark fortissimo chord which begins the Overture to Don Giovanni: the theme associated with the character of the Commendatore. LEOPOLD (V.O.) My dear son. The second fortissimo chord sounds. INT. A BAROQUE CHURCH - DAY - 1780'S We see a huge CU, of Mozart's head, looking front and down, as if reading his father's letter. We hear Leopold's voice over this image, no longer whining and anxious, but impressive. LEOPOLD (V.O.) I write to you with urgent news. I am coming to Vienna. Take no further steps toward marriage until we meet. You are too gullible to see your own danger. As you honour the father who has devoted his entire life to yours, do as I bid, and await my coming. MOZART I will. The camera pulls back to see that he is in fact kneeling beside Constanze. A PRIEST faces them. Behind them are Madame Weber, Josefa and Sophie Weber, and a very few others. Among them, a merry looking lady in bright clothes: the BARONESS WALDSTADTEN. PRIEST And will you, Constanze Weber, take this man, Wolfgang to be your lawful husband? CONSTANZE I will. PRIEST I now pronounce you man and wife. The opening kyrie of the great Mass in C Minor is heard. Mozart and Constanze kiss. They are in tears. Madame Weber and her daughters look on approvingly. The music swells and continues under the following: INT. A ROOM IN LEOPOLD'S HOUSE - SALZBURG - NIGHT - 1780'S There is a view of a castle in background. Leopold sits alone in his room. He is reading a letter from Wolfgang. At his feet are his trunks, half-packed for the journey he will not now take. We hear Mozart's voice reading the following letter and we see, as the camera roves around the room, mementos of the young prodigy's early life: the little forte-piano made for him; the little violin made for him; an Order presented to him. We see a little starling in a wicker cage. And we see portraits of the boy on the walls, concluding with the familiar family portrait of Wolfgang and his sister Nannerl seated at the keyboard with Leopold standing, and the picture of their mother on the wall behind them. MOZART (V.O.) Most beloved father, it is done. Do not blame me that I did not wait to see your dear face. I knew you would have tried to dissuade me from my truest happiness and I could not have borne it. Your every word is precious to me. Remember how you have always told me Vienna is the City of Musicians. To conquer here is to conquer Europe! With my wife I can do it. I vow I will become regular in my habits and productive as never before. She is wonderful, Papa, and I know that you will love her. And one day soon when I am a wealthy man, you will come and live with us, and we will be so happy. I long for that day, best of Papas, and kiss your hand a hundred thousand times. The music of the Mass fades as Leopold crumples the letter in his hand. EXT. THE IMPERIAL GARDENS - VIENNA - DAY - 1780'S Salieri stands waiting, hat in hand. Beside him stands a royal servant. Behind him, gardeners are glimpsed tending the shrubs and bushes along a grassy ride. Down this ride are seen cantering two people on horseback: the Emperor Joseph and his niece, the PRINCESS ELIZABETH. They are mounted on glossy horses. The Princess rides side-saddle. Running beside her is a panting groom. The Emperor rides elegantly; his niece, a dumpy little Hapsburg girl of sixteen, like a sack of potatoes. As they draw level with Salieri they stop, and the groom holds the head of the Princess' horse. Salieri bows respectfully. JOSEPH Good morning, Court Composer. This is my niece, the Princess Elizabeth. SALIERI Your Highness. Out of breath, the Princess nods nervously. JOSEPH She has asked me to advise her on a suitable musical instructor. I think I've come up with an excellent idea. He smiles at Salieri. SALIERI Oh, Your Majesty, it would be such a tremendous honour! JOSEPH I'm thinking about Herr Mozart. What is your view? Salieri's face falls, almost imperceptibly. SALIERI An interesting idea, Majesty. But - JOSEPH Yes? SALIERI You already commissioned an opera from Mozart. JOSEPH And the result satisfies. SALIERI Yes, of course. My concern is to protect you from any suspicion of favouritism. JOSEPH Ah-ha. Favouritism. But I so want Mozart. SALIERI I'm sure there is a way, Majesty. Some kind of a little contest. I could perhaps put together a small Committee, and I could see to it naturally that it will select according to Your Majesty's wishes. JOSEPH You please me, Court Composer. A very clever idea. SALIERI (bowing) Sire. JOSEPH Well. There it is. He rides on. The groom releases her horse's head, and runs on after the Princess. CUT TO: INT. CHAMBERLAIN VON STRACK'S STUDY - DAY - 1780'S Von Strack sits stiffly behind his gilded desk. Mozart stands before him, trembling with anger. MOZART What is this, Herr Chamberlain? VON STRACK What is what? MOZART Why do I have to submit samples of my work to some stupid committee? Just to teach a sixteen-year-old girl. VON STRACK Because His Majesty wishes it. MOZART Is the Emperor angry with me? VON STRACK On the contrary. MOZART Then why doesn't he simply appoint me to the post? VON STRACK Mozart, you are not the only composer in Vienna. MOZART No, but I'm the best. VON STRACK A little modesty would suit you better. MOZART Who is on this committee? VON STRACK Kapellmeister Bonno, Count Orsini- Rosenberg and Court Composer Salieri. MOZART Naturally, the Italians! Of course! Always the Italians! VON STRACK Mozart - MOZART They hate my music. It terrifies them. The only sound Italians understand is banality. Tonic and dominant, tonic and dominant, from here to Resurrection! (singing angrily) Ba-ba! Ba-ba! Ba-ba! Ba-ba! Anything else is morbid. VON STRACK Mozart - MOZART Show them one interesting modulation and they faint. Ohime! Morbidezza! Morbidezza! Italians are musical idiots and you want them to judge my music! VON STRACK Look, young man, the issue is simple. If you want this post, you must submit your stuff in the same way as all your colleagues. MOZART Must I? Well, I won't! I tell you straight: I will not! CUT TO: INT. MOZART'S APARTMENT - BEDROOM - VIENNA - DAY - 1780'S The room is very small and untidy. Constanze is marching up and down it, upset. Mozart is lying on the bed. CONSTANZE I think you're mad! You're really mad! MOZART Oh, leave me alone. CONSTANZE One royal pupil and the whole of Vienna will come flocking. We'd be set up for life! MOZART They'll come anyway. They love me here. CONSTANZE No, they will not. I know how things work in this city. MOZART Oh yes? You always know everything. CONSTANZE Well, I'm not borrowing any more money from my mother, and that's that! MOZART You borrowed money from your mother? CONSTANZE Yes! MOZART Well, don't do that again! CONSTANZE How are we going to live, Wolfi? Do you want me to go into the streets and beg? MOZART Don't be stupid. CONSTANZE All they want to see is your work. What's wrong with that? MOZART Shut up! Just shut up! I don't need them. CONSTANZE This isn't pride. It's sheer stupidity! She glares at him, almost in tears. CUT TO: INT. SALIERI'S MUSIC ROOM - LATE AFTERNOON - 1780'S Salieri is giving a lesson to a girl student, who is singing the Italian art song, Caro Mio Ben. There is a knock on the door. SALIERI Yes. A SERVANT enters. SERVANT Excuse me, sir, there is a lady who insists on talking to you. SALIERI Who is she? SERVANT She didn't say. But she says it's urgent. SALIERI (to the pupil) Excuse me, my dear. Salieri goes into the salon. CUT TO: INT. THE SALON - LATE AFTERNOON - 1780'S Constanze stands, closely veiled, holding a portfolio stuffed with manuscripts. The singing lesson ends, with two chords on the instrument. Salieri enters the salon. Constanze drops him a shy curtsey. CONSTANZE Excellency! SALIERI Madame. How can I help you? Shyly, she unveils. SALIERI Frau Mozart? CONSTANZE That's right, Your Excellency. I've come on behalf of my hus band. I'm - I'm bringing some samples of his work so he can be considered for the royal appointment. SALIERI How charming. But why did he not come himself? CONSTANZE He's terribly busy, sir. SALIERI I understand. He takes the portfolio and puts it on a table. SALIERI I will look at them, of course, the moment I can. It will be an honour. Please give him my warmest. CONSTANZE Would it be too much trouble, sir, to ask you to look at them now? While I wait. SALIERI I'm afraid I'm not at leisure this very moment. Just leave them with me. I assure you they will be quite safe. CONSTANZE I - I really cannot do that, Your Excellency. You see, he doesn't know I'm here. SALIERI Really? CONSTANZE My husband is a proud man, sir. He would be furious if he knew I'd come. SALIERI Then he didn't send you? CONSTANZE No, sir. This is my own idea. SALIERI I see. CONSTANZE Sir, we really need this job. We're desperate. My husband spends far more than he can ever earn. I don't mean he's lazy - he's not at all - he works all day long. It's just! he's not practical. Money simply slips through his fingers, it's really ridiculous, Your Excellency. I know you help musicians. You're famous for it. Give him just this one post. We'd be forever indebted! A short pause. SALIERI Let me offer you some refreshment. Do you know what these are? He indicates a dish piled high with glazed chestnuts. SALIERI Cappezzoli di Venere. Nipples of Venus. Roman chestnuts in brandied sugar. Won't you try one? They're quite surprising. He offers her the dish. She takes one and puts it in her mouth. He watches carefully. CONSTANZE Oh! They're wonderful. He takes one himself. We notice on his finger a heavy gold signet-ring. CONSTANZE Thank you very much, Your Excellency. SALIERI Don't keep calling me that. It puts me at such a distance. I was not born a Court Composer, you know. I'm from a small town, just like your husband. He smiles at her. She takes another chestnut. SALIERI Are you sure you can't leave that music, and come back again? I have other things you might like. CONSTANZE That's very tempting, but it's impossible, I'm afraid. Wolfi would be frantic if he found those were missing. You see, they're all originals. SALIERI Originals? CONSTANZE Yes. A pause. He puts out his hand and takes up the portfolio from the table. He opens it. He looks at the music. He is puzzled. SALIERI These are originals? CONSTANZE Yes, sir. He doesn't make copies. CUT TO: INT. OLD SALIERI'S HOSPITAL ROOM - NIGHT - 1823 The old man faces the Priest. OLD SALIERI Astounding! It was actually beyond belief. These were first and only drafts of music yet they showed no corrections of any kind. Not one. Do you realize what that meant? Vogler stares at him. OLD SALIERI He'd simply put down music already finished in his head. Page after page of it, as if he was just taking dictation. And music finished as no music is ever finished. INT. SALIERI'S SALON - LATE AFTERNOON - 1780'S CU, The manuscript in Mozart's handwriting. The music begins to sound under the following: OLD SALIERI (V.O.) Displace one note and there would be diminishment. Displace one phrase, and the structure would fall. It was clear to me. That sound I had heard in the Archbishop's palace had been no accident. Here again was the very voice of God! I was staring through the cage of those meticulous ink- strokes at an absolute, inimitable beauty. The music swells. What we now hear is an amazing collage of great passages from Mozart's music, ravishing to Salieri and to us. The Court Composer, oblivious to Constanze, who sits happily chewing chestnuts, her mouth covered in sugar, walks around and around his salon, reading the pages and dropping them on the floor when he is done with them. We see his agonized and wondering face: he shudders as if in a rough and tumbling sea; he experiences the point where beauty and great pain coalesce. More pages fall than he can read, scattering across the floor in a white cascade, as he circles the room. Finally, we hear the tremendous Qui Tollis from the Mass in C Minor. It seems to break over him like a wave and, unable to bear any more of it, he slams the portfolio shut. Instantly, the music breaks off, reverberating in his head. He stands shaking, staring wildly. Constanze gets up, perplexed. CONSTANZE Is it no good? A pause. SALIERI It is miraculous. CONSTANZE Oh yes. He's really proud of his work. Another pause. CONSTANZE So, will you help him? Salieri tries to recover himself. SALIERI Tomorrow night I dine with the Emperor. One word from me and the post is his. CONSTANZE Oh, thank you, sir! Overjoyed, she stops and kisses his hand. He raises her - and then clasps her to him clumsily. She pushes herself away. SALIERI Come back tonight. CONSTANZE Tonight? SALIERI Alone. CONSTANZE What for? SALIERI Some service deserves service in return. No? CONSTANZE What do you mean? SALIERI Isn't it obvious? They stare at one another: Constanze in total disbelief. SALIERI It's a post all Vienna seeks. If you want it for your husband, come tonight. CONSTANZE But! I'm a married woman! SALIERI Then don't. It's up to you. Not to be vague, that is the price. He glares at her. SALIERI Yes. He rings a silver bell for a servant and abruptly leaves the roam. Constanze stares after him, horrified. The servant enters. Shocked and stunned, Constanze goes down an her knees and starts picking up the music from the floor. CUT TO: INT. OLD SALIERI'S HOSPITAL ROOM - NIGHT - 1823 CU, Father Vogler, horrified. OLD SALIERI Yes, Father. Yes! So much for my vow of chastity. What did it matter? Good, patient, hard-working, chaste - what did it matter? Had goodness made me a good composer? I realized it absolutely then - that moment: goodness is nothing in the furnace of art. And I was nothing to God. VOGLER (crying out) You cannot say that! OLD SALIERI No? Was Mozart a good man? VOGLER God's ways are not yours. And you are not here to question Him. Offer him the salt of penitence. He will give you back the bread of eternal life. He is all merciful. That is all you need to know. OLD SALIERI All I ever wanted was to sing to Him. That's His doing, isn't it? He gave me that longing - then made me mute. Why? Tell me that. If He didn't want me to serve Him with music, why implant the desire, like a lust in my body, then deny me the talent? Go on, tell me! Speak for Him! VOGLER My son, no one can speak for God. OLD SALIERI Oh? I thought you did so every day. So speak now. Answer me! VOGLER I do not claim to unravel the mysteries. I treasure them. As you should. OLD SALIERI (impatiently) Oh yes, yes, yes, yes, yes! Always the same stale answers! (intimately to the priest) There is no God of Mercy, Father. Just a God of torture. CUT TO: INT. SALIERI'S APARTMENT - BEDROOM - NIGHT - 1780'S Salieri sits at his desk, staring up at the cross. OLD SALIERI (V.O.) Evening came to that room. I sat there not knowing whether the girl would return or not. I prayed as I'd never prayed before. SALIERI Dear God, enter me now. Fill me with one piece of true music. One piece with your breath in it, so I know that you love me. Please. Just one. Show me one sign of your favour, and I will show mine to Mozart and his wife. I will get him the royal position, and if she comes, I'll receive her with all respect and send her home in joy. Enter me! Enter me! Please! Te imploro. Long, long silence. Salieri stares at the cross. Christ stares back at him impassively. Finally in this silence we hear a faint knocking at the door. Salieri stirs himself. A servant appears. SERVANT That lady is back, sir. SALIERI Show her in. Then go to bed. The Servant bows and leaves. We follow him through: INT. MUSIC ROOM IN SALIERI'S APARTMENT - NIGHT - 1780'S The Servant crosses it and enters: INT. SALON IN SALIERI'S APARTMENT - NIGHT - 1780'S Constanze is sitting on an upright chair, veiled as before, the portfolio of music on her lap. Through the far door leading from the hall, another servant is peering at her. The first servant joins him and shuts the door on the girl, leaving her alone. We stay with her. The clock ticks on the mantelpiece. We hear an old carriage pass in the street below. Nervously she lifts her veil and looks about her. Suddenly Salieri appears from the music room. He is pale and very tight. They regard each other. She smiles and rises to greet him, affecting a relaxed and warm manner, as if to put him at his ease. CONSTANZE Well, I'm here. My husband has gone to a concert. He didn't think I would enjoy it. A pause. CONSTANZE I do apologize for this afternoon. I behaved like a silly girl. Where shall we go? SALIERI What? CONSTANZE Should we stay here? It's a charming room. I love these candlesticks. Were they here earlier? I didn't notice them I suppose I was too nervous. As she talks, she extinguishes the candles in a pair of Venetian candelabra and subsequently other candles around the room. CONSTANZE Wolfgang was given some candlesticks by King George in England, but they were only wood. Oh, excuse me. Let's not talk about him. What do you think of this? It's real lace. Brussels. She turns and takes off her shawl. CONSTANZE Well, it's much too good for every day. I keep saying to Wolfi, don't be so extravagant. Presents are lovely, but we can't afford them. It doesn't do any good. The more I tell him, the more he spends. Oh, excuse me! There I go again. She picks up the portfolio. CONSTANZE Do you still want to look at this? Or don't we need to bother anymore? I imagine we don't, really. She looks at him inquiringly, and drops the portfolio on the floor; pages of music pour out of it. Instantly we hear a massive chord, and the great Qui Tollis from the Mass in C Minor fills the room. To its grand and weighty sound, Constanze starts to undress, watched by the horrified Salieri. Between him and her, music is an active presence, hurting and baffling him. He opens his mouth in distress. The music pounds in his head. The candle flickers over her as she removes her clothes and prepares for his embrace. Suddenly he cries out. SALIERI Go! Go! Go! He snatches up the bell and shakes it frantically, not stopping until the two servants we saw earlier appear at the door. The music stops abruptly. They stare at the appalled and frightened Constanze, who is desperately trying to cover her nakedness. SALIERI Show this woman out! Constanze hurls herself at him. CONSTANZE You shit! You shit! You rotten shit! He seizes her wrists and thrusts her back. Then he leaves the room quickly, slamming the door behind him. Constanze turns and sees the two servants goggling at her in the room. CONSTANZE What are you staring at? Wildly, she picks up the candelabrum and throws it at them. It shatters on the floor. INT. SALIERI'S APARTMENT - BEDROOM - NIGHT - 1780'S CU, Salieri standing, his eyes shut, shaking in distress. He opens them and sees Christ across the room, staring at him from the wall. OLD SALIERI (V.O.) From now on, we are enemies, You and I! CUT TO: INT. OLD SALIERI'S HOSPITAL ROOM - NIGHT - 1823 The old man is reliving the experience. Vogler looks at him, horrified. OLD SALIERI Because You will not enter me, with all my need for you; because You scorn my attempts at virtue; because You choose for Your instrument a boastful, lustful, smutty infantile boy and give me for reward only the ability to recognize the Incarnation; because You are unjust, unfair, unkind, I will block You! I swear it! I will hinder and harm Your creature on earth as far as I am able. I will ruin Your Incarnation. CUT BACK TO: INT. SALIERI'S APARTMENT - BEDROOM - NIGHT - 1780'S CU, the fireplace. In it lies the olivewood Christ on the cross, burning. OLD SALIERI (V.O.) What use after all is Man, if not to teach God His lessons? The cross flames up and disintegrates. Salieri stares at it. CUT TO: INT. MOZART'S APARTMENT - LIVING ROOM - NIGHT - 1780'S The front door bursts open. Mozart stumbles in, followed by EMMANUEL SCHIKANEDER, three young actresses, and another man, all fairly drunk. Schikaneder (who appears everywhere accompanied by young girls) is a large, fleshy, extravagant man of about thirty-five. MOZART Stanzi! Stanzi! Stanzi-Manzi! The others laugh. MOZART Sssh! SCHIKANEDER (imitating Mozart) Stanzi-Manzi-Banzi-Wanzi! MOZART Sssh! Stay here. He walks unsteadily to the bedroom door and opens it. SCHIKANEDER (to the girls, very tipsy) Sssh! You're dishgrashful! INT. MOZART'S APARTMENT - BEDROOM - NIGHT - 1780'S Constanze lies in bed, her back turned to her husband, who comes into the room and shuts the door. MOZART (playfully) Stanzi? How's my mouse? Mouse-wouse? I'm back - puss-wuss is back! She turns around abruptly. She looks dreadful; her eyes red with weeping. Mozart is shocked. MOZART Stanzi! He approaches the bed and sits on it. Immediately she starts crying again, desperately. MOZART What's the matter? What is it? Stanzi! He holds her and she clings to him in a fierce embrace, crying a flood of tears. MOZART Stop it now. Stop it. I've brought some friends to meet you. They're next door waiting. Do we have anything to eat? They're all starving. CONSTANZE Tell them to go away. I don't want to see anybody. MOZART What's the matter with you? CONSTANZE Tell them to go! MOZART Sssh. What is it? Tell me. CONSTANZE No! MOZART Yes! CONSTANZE I love you! I love you! She starts crying again, throwing her arms around his neck. CONSTANZE I love you. Please stay with me. I'm frightened. INT. THE ROYAL PALACE - DINING ROOM - DAY - 1780'S Joseph sits eating. A butler serves him goat's milk to drink. Joseph is holding a memorandum from Salieri in his hand. Salieri stands before him. JOSEPH I don't think you understand me, Court Composer. SALIERI Majesty, I did. Believe me, it was a most agonizing. decision. But finally, I simply could not recommend Herr Mozart. JOSEPH Why not? SALIERI Well, Sire, I made some inquiries in a routine way. I was curious to know why he had so few pupils. It is rather alarming. JOSEPH Oh? With a gesture Joseph dismisses the butler, who bows and leaves the room. SALIERI Majesty, I don't like to talk against a fellow musician. JOSEPH Of course not. SALIERI I have to tell you, Mozart is not entirely to be trusted alone with young ladies. JOSEPH Really? SALIERI As a matter of fact, one of my own pupils - a very young singer - told me she was - er - well! JOSEPH Yes? SALIERI Molested, Majesty. Twice, in the course of the same lesson. A pause. JOSEPH Ah-ha. Well. There it is. INT. SALIERI'S HOUSE - STAIRCASE - VIENNA - DAY - 1780'S Salieri has just returned from the palace and is coming up the staircase. He is met by his servant. SERVANT Sir, there is a Herr Mozart waiting for you in the salon. Salieri is plainly alarmed. SALIERI What does he want? SERVANT He didn't say, sir. I told him I didn't know when you would be back, but he insisted on waiting. SALIERI Come with me. And stay in the room. He mounts the stairs. INT. SALIERI'S APARTMENT - SALON - DAY - 1780'S Mozart is waiting for Salieri, holding a portfolio. Salieri approaches him nervously. Mozart stands not belligerently, but humbly. SALIERI Herr Mozart, what brings you here? MOZART Your Excellency, you requested some specimens of my work. Here they are. I don't have to tell you how much I need your help. I truly appreciate your looking at these. I have pressures on me - financial pressures. As you know, I'm a married man now. SALIERI So you are. How is your pretty wife? MOZART She is well. She is - well, actually, I'm about to become a father! She only told me last night. You are the first to know. SALIERI I'm flattered. And congratulations to you, of course. MOZART So you see, this post is very important to me right now. Salieri looks at him in distress. SALIERI Why didn't you come to me yesterday, Mozart? This is a most painful situation. Yesterday I could have helped you. Today, I can't. MOZART Why? Here is the music. It's here. I am submitting it humbly. Isn't that what you wanted? SALIERI I have just come from the palace. The post has been filled. MOZART Filled? That's impossible! They haven't even seen my work. I need this post. Please, can't you help me? Please! SALIERI My dear Mozart, there is no one in the world I would rather help, but now it is too late. MOZART Whom did they choose? SALIERI Herr Sommer. MOZART Sommer? Herr Sommer? But the man's a fool! He's a total mediocrity. SALIERI No, no, no: he has yet to achieve mediocrity. MOZART But I can't lose this post, I simply can't! Excellency, please. Let's go to the palace, and you can explain to the Emperor that Herr Sommer is an awful choice. He could actually do musical harm to the Princess! SALIERI An implausible idea. Between you and me, no one in the world could do musical harm to the Princess Elizabeth. Mozart chuckles delightedly. Salieri offers him a glass of white dessert and a spoon. Mozart takes it absently and goes on talking. MOZART Look, I must have pupils. Without pupils I can't manage. SALIERI You don't mean to tell me you are living in poverty? MOZART No, but I'm broke. I'm always broke. I don't know why. SALIERI It has been said, my friend, that you are inclined to live somewhat above your means. MOZART How can anyone say that? We have no cook, no maid. We have no footman. Nothing at all! SALIERI How is that possible? You give concerts, don't you? I hear they are quite successful. MOZART They're stupendously successful. You can't get a seat. The only problem is none will hire me. They all want to hear me play, but they won't let me teach their daughters. As if I was some kind of fiend. I'm not a fiend! SALIERI Of course not. MOZART Do you have a daughter? SALIERI I'm afraid not. MOZART Well, could you lend me some money till you have one?

singing

How many times the word 'singing' appears in the text?

All the same, why him? Why use Mozart to teach me lessons in humility? My heart was filling up with such hatred for that little man. For the first time in my life I began to know really violent thoughts. I couldn't stop them. VOGLER Did you try? OLD SALIERI Every day. Sometimes for hours I would pray! INT. SALIERI'S APARTMENT - BEDROOM - DAY - 1780'S The young Salieri is kneeling in desperation before the Cross. SALIERI Please! Please! Send him away, back to Salzburg. For his sake as well as mine. CU, Christ staring from the Cross. CUT BACK TO: INT. AUDIENCE HALL - ARCHBISHOP'S PALACE - SALZBURG - DAY - 1780'S We see Leopold kneeling now not to the Cross but to Archbishop Colloredo, sitting impassively on his throne. Count Arco stands beside him. Leopold is a desperate, once-handsome man of sixty, now far too much the subservient courtier. COLLOREDO No! I won't have him back. LEOPOLD But he needs to be here in Salzburg, Your Grace. He needs me and he needs you. Your protection, your understanding. COLLOREDO Hardly. LEOPOLD Oh sir, yes! He's about to make the worst mistake of his life. Some little Viennese slut is trying to trick him into marriage. I know my son. He is too simple to see the trap - and there is no one there who really cares for him. COLLOREDO I'm not surprised. Money seems to be more important to him than loyalty or friendship. He has sold himself to Vienna. Let Vienna look out for him. LEOPOLD Sir - COLLOREDO Your son is an unprincipled, spoiled, conceited brat. LEOPOLD Yes, sir, that's the truth. But don't blame him. The fault is mine. I was too indulgent with him. But not again. Never again, I promise! I implore you - let me bring him back here. I'll make him give his word to serve you faithfully. COLLOREDO And how will you make him keep it? LEOPOLD Oh, sir, he's never disobeyed me in anything. Please, Your Grace, give him one more chance. COLLOREDO You have leave to try. LEOPOLD Oh, Your Grace - I thank Your Grace! I thank you! In deepest gratitude he kisses the Archbishop's hand. He motions Leopold to rise. We hear the first dark fortissimo chord which begins the Overture to Don Giovanni: the theme associated with the character of the Commendatore. LEOPOLD (V.O.) My dear son. The second fortissimo chord sounds. INT. A BAROQUE CHURCH - DAY - 1780'S We see a huge CU, of Mozart's head, looking front and down, as if reading his father's letter. We hear Leopold's voice over this image, no longer whining and anxious, but impressive. LEOPOLD (V.O.) I write to you with urgent news. I am coming to Vienna. Take no further steps toward marriage until we meet. You are too gullible to see your own danger. As you honour the father who has devoted his entire life to yours, do as I bid, and await my coming. MOZART I will. The camera pulls back to see that he is in fact kneeling beside Constanze. A PRIEST faces them. Behind them are Madame Weber, Josefa and Sophie Weber, and a very few others. Among them, a merry looking lady in bright clothes: the BARONESS WALDSTADTEN. PRIEST And will you, Constanze Weber, take this man, Wolfgang to be your lawful husband? CONSTANZE I will. PRIEST I now pronounce you man and wife. The opening kyrie of the great Mass in C Minor is heard. Mozart and Constanze kiss. They are in tears. Madame Weber and her daughters look on approvingly. The music swells and continues under the following: INT. A ROOM IN LEOPOLD'S HOUSE - SALZBURG - NIGHT - 1780'S There is a view of a castle in background. Leopold sits alone in his room. He is reading a letter from Wolfgang. At his feet are his trunks, half-packed for the journey he will not now take. We hear Mozart's voice reading the following letter and we see, as the camera roves around the room, mementos of the young prodigy's early life: the little forte-piano made for him; the little violin made for him; an Order presented to him. We see a little starling in a wicker cage. And we see portraits of the boy on the walls, concluding with the familiar family portrait of Wolfgang and his sister Nannerl seated at the keyboard with Leopold standing, and the picture of their mother on the wall behind them. MOZART (V.O.) Most beloved father, it is done. Do not blame me that I did not wait to see your dear face. I knew you would have tried to dissuade me from my truest happiness and I could not have borne it. Your every word is precious to me. Remember how you have always told me Vienna is the City of Musicians. To conquer here is to conquer Europe! With my wife I can do it. I vow I will become regular in my habits and productive as never before. She is wonderful, Papa, and I know that you will love her. And one day soon when I am a wealthy man, you will come and live with us, and we will be so happy. I long for that day, best of Papas, and kiss your hand a hundred thousand times. The music of the Mass fades as Leopold crumples the letter in his hand. EXT. THE IMPERIAL GARDENS - VIENNA - DAY - 1780'S Salieri stands waiting, hat in hand. Beside him stands a royal servant. Behind him, gardeners are glimpsed tending the shrubs and bushes along a grassy ride. Down this ride are seen cantering two people on horseback: the Emperor Joseph and his niece, the PRINCESS ELIZABETH. They are mounted on glossy horses. The Princess rides side-saddle. Running beside her is a panting groom. The Emperor rides elegantly; his niece, a dumpy little Hapsburg girl of sixteen, like a sack of potatoes. As they draw level with Salieri they stop, and the groom holds the head of the Princess' horse. Salieri bows respectfully. JOSEPH Good morning, Court Composer. This is my niece, the Princess Elizabeth. SALIERI Your Highness. Out of breath, the Princess nods nervously. JOSEPH She has asked me to advise her on a suitable musical instructor. I think I've come up with an excellent idea. He smiles at Salieri. SALIERI Oh, Your Majesty, it would be such a tremendous honour! JOSEPH I'm thinking about Herr Mozart. What is your view? Salieri's face falls, almost imperceptibly. SALIERI An interesting idea, Majesty. But - JOSEPH Yes? SALIERI You already commissioned an opera from Mozart. JOSEPH And the result satisfies. SALIERI Yes, of course. My concern is to protect you from any suspicion of favouritism. JOSEPH Ah-ha. Favouritism. But I so want Mozart. SALIERI I'm sure there is a way, Majesty. Some kind of a little contest. I could perhaps put together a small Committee, and I could see to it naturally that it will select according to Your Majesty's wishes. JOSEPH You please me, Court Composer. A very clever idea. SALIERI (bowing) Sire. JOSEPH Well. There it is. He rides on. The groom releases her horse's head, and runs on after the Princess. CUT TO: INT. CHAMBERLAIN VON STRACK'S STUDY - DAY - 1780'S Von Strack sits stiffly behind his gilded desk. Mozart stands before him, trembling with anger. MOZART What is this, Herr Chamberlain? VON STRACK What is what? MOZART Why do I have to submit samples of my work to some stupid committee? Just to teach a sixteen-year-old girl. VON STRACK Because His Majesty wishes it. MOZART Is the Emperor angry with me? VON STRACK On the contrary. MOZART Then why doesn't he simply appoint me to the post? VON STRACK Mozart, you are not the only composer in Vienna. MOZART No, but I'm the best. VON STRACK A little modesty would suit you better. MOZART Who is on this committee? VON STRACK Kapellmeister Bonno, Count Orsini- Rosenberg and Court Composer Salieri. MOZART Naturally, the Italians! Of course! Always the Italians! VON STRACK Mozart - MOZART They hate my music. It terrifies them. The only sound Italians understand is banality. Tonic and dominant, tonic and dominant, from here to Resurrection! (singing angrily) Ba-ba! Ba-ba! Ba-ba! Ba-ba! Anything else is morbid. VON STRACK Mozart - MOZART Show them one interesting modulation and they faint. Ohime! Morbidezza! Morbidezza! Italians are musical idiots and you want them to judge my music! VON STRACK Look, young man, the issue is simple. If you want this post, you must submit your stuff in the same way as all your colleagues. MOZART Must I? Well, I won't! I tell you straight: I will not! CUT TO: INT. MOZART'S APARTMENT - BEDROOM - VIENNA - DAY - 1780'S The room is very small and untidy. Constanze is marching up and down it, upset. Mozart is lying on the bed. CONSTANZE I think you're mad! You're really mad! MOZART Oh, leave me alone. CONSTANZE One royal pupil and the whole of Vienna will come flocking. We'd be set up for life! MOZART They'll come anyway. They love me here. CONSTANZE No, they will not. I know how things work in this city. MOZART Oh yes? You always know everything. CONSTANZE Well, I'm not borrowing any more money from my mother, and that's that! MOZART You borrowed money from your mother? CONSTANZE Yes! MOZART Well, don't do that again! CONSTANZE How are we going to live, Wolfi? Do you want me to go into the streets and beg? MOZART Don't be stupid. CONSTANZE All they want to see is your work. What's wrong with that? MOZART Shut up! Just shut up! I don't need them. CONSTANZE This isn't pride. It's sheer stupidity! She glares at him, almost in tears. CUT TO: INT. SALIERI'S MUSIC ROOM - LATE AFTERNOON - 1780'S Salieri is giving a lesson to a girl student, who is singing the Italian art song, Caro Mio Ben. There is a knock on the door. SALIERI Yes. A SERVANT enters. SERVANT Excuse me, sir, there is a lady who insists on talking to you. SALIERI Who is she? SERVANT She didn't say. But she says it's urgent. SALIERI (to the pupil) Excuse me, my dear. Salieri goes into the salon. CUT TO: INT. THE SALON - LATE AFTERNOON - 1780'S Constanze stands, closely veiled, holding a portfolio stuffed with manuscripts. The singing lesson ends, with two chords on the instrument. Salieri enters the salon. Constanze drops him a shy curtsey. CONSTANZE Excellency! SALIERI Madame. How can I help you? Shyly, she unveils. SALIERI Frau Mozart? CONSTANZE That's right, Your Excellency. I've come on behalf of my hus band. I'm - I'm bringing some samples of his work so he can be considered for the royal appointment. SALIERI How charming. But why did he not come himself? CONSTANZE He's terribly busy, sir. SALIERI I understand. He takes the portfolio and puts it on a table. SALIERI I will look at them, of course, the moment I can. It will be an honour. Please give him my warmest. CONSTANZE Would it be too much trouble, sir, to ask you to look at them now? While I wait. SALIERI I'm afraid I'm not at leisure this very moment. Just leave them with me. I assure you they will be quite safe. CONSTANZE I - I really cannot do that, Your Excellency. You see, he doesn't know I'm here. SALIERI Really? CONSTANZE My husband is a proud man, sir. He would be furious if he knew I'd come. SALIERI Then he didn't send you? CONSTANZE No, sir. This is my own idea. SALIERI I see. CONSTANZE Sir, we really need this job. We're desperate. My husband spends far more than he can ever earn. I don't mean he's lazy - he's not at all - he works all day long. It's just! he's not practical. Money simply slips through his fingers, it's really ridiculous, Your Excellency. I know you help musicians. You're famous for it. Give him just this one post. We'd be forever indebted! A short pause. SALIERI Let me offer you some refreshment. Do you know what these are? He indicates a dish piled high with glazed chestnuts. SALIERI Cappezzoli di Venere. Nipples of Venus. Roman chestnuts in brandied sugar. Won't you try one? They're quite surprising. He offers her the dish. She takes one and puts it in her mouth. He watches carefully. CONSTANZE Oh! They're wonderful. He takes one himself. We notice on his finger a heavy gold signet-ring. CONSTANZE Thank you very much, Your Excellency. SALIERI Don't keep calling me that. It puts me at such a distance. I was not born a Court Composer, you know. I'm from a small town, just like your husband. He smiles at her. She takes another chestnut. SALIERI Are you sure you can't leave that music, and come back again? I have other things you might like. CONSTANZE That's very tempting, but it's impossible, I'm afraid. Wolfi would be frantic if he found those were missing. You see, they're all originals. SALIERI Originals? CONSTANZE Yes. A pause. He puts out his hand and takes up the portfolio from the table. He opens it. He looks at the music. He is puzzled. SALIERI These are originals? CONSTANZE Yes, sir. He doesn't make copies. CUT TO: INT. OLD SALIERI'S HOSPITAL ROOM - NIGHT - 1823 The old man faces the Priest. OLD SALIERI Astounding! It was actually beyond belief. These were first and only drafts of music yet they showed no corrections of any kind. Not one. Do you realize what that meant? Vogler stares at him. OLD SALIERI He'd simply put down music already finished in his head. Page after page of it, as if he was just taking dictation. And music finished as no music is ever finished. INT. SALIERI'S SALON - LATE AFTERNOON - 1780'S CU, The manuscript in Mozart's handwriting. The music begins to sound under the following: OLD SALIERI (V.O.) Displace one note and there would be diminishment. Displace one phrase, and the structure would fall. It was clear to me. That sound I had heard in the Archbishop's palace had been no accident. Here again was the very voice of God! I was staring through the cage of those meticulous ink- strokes at an absolute, inimitable beauty. The music swells. What we now hear is an amazing collage of great passages from Mozart's music, ravishing to Salieri and to us. The Court Composer, oblivious to Constanze, who sits happily chewing chestnuts, her mouth covered in sugar, walks around and around his salon, reading the pages and dropping them on the floor when he is done with them. We see his agonized and wondering face: he shudders as if in a rough and tumbling sea; he experiences the point where beauty and great pain coalesce. More pages fall than he can read, scattering across the floor in a white cascade, as he circles the room. Finally, we hear the tremendous Qui Tollis from the Mass in C Minor. It seems to break over him like a wave and, unable to bear any more of it, he slams the portfolio shut. Instantly, the music breaks off, reverberating in his head. He stands shaking, staring wildly. Constanze gets up, perplexed. CONSTANZE Is it no good? A pause. SALIERI It is miraculous. CONSTANZE Oh yes. He's really proud of his work. Another pause. CONSTANZE So, will you help him? Salieri tries to recover himself. SALIERI Tomorrow night I dine with the Emperor. One word from me and the post is his. CONSTANZE Oh, thank you, sir! Overjoyed, she stops and kisses his hand. He raises her - and then clasps her to him clumsily. She pushes herself away. SALIERI Come back tonight. CONSTANZE Tonight? SALIERI Alone. CONSTANZE What for? SALIERI Some service deserves service in return. No? CONSTANZE What do you mean? SALIERI Isn't it obvious? They stare at one another: Constanze in total disbelief. SALIERI It's a post all Vienna seeks. If you want it for your husband, come tonight. CONSTANZE But! I'm a married woman! SALIERI Then don't. It's up to you. Not to be vague, that is the price. He glares at her. SALIERI Yes. He rings a silver bell for a servant and abruptly leaves the roam. Constanze stares after him, horrified. The servant enters. Shocked and stunned, Constanze goes down an her knees and starts picking up the music from the floor. CUT TO: INT. OLD SALIERI'S HOSPITAL ROOM - NIGHT - 1823 CU, Father Vogler, horrified. OLD SALIERI Yes, Father. Yes! So much for my vow of chastity. What did it matter? Good, patient, hard-working, chaste - what did it matter? Had goodness made me a good composer? I realized it absolutely then - that moment: goodness is nothing in the furnace of art. And I was nothing to God. VOGLER (crying out) You cannot say that! OLD SALIERI No? Was Mozart a good man? VOGLER God's ways are not yours. And you are not here to question Him. Offer him the salt of penitence. He will give you back the bread of eternal life. He is all merciful. That is all you need to know. OLD SALIERI All I ever wanted was to sing to Him. That's His doing, isn't it? He gave me that longing - then made me mute. Why? Tell me that. If He didn't want me to serve Him with music, why implant the desire, like a lust in my body, then deny me the talent? Go on, tell me! Speak for Him! VOGLER My son, no one can speak for God. OLD SALIERI Oh? I thought you did so every day. So speak now. Answer me! VOGLER I do not claim to unravel the mysteries. I treasure them. As you should. OLD SALIERI (impatiently) Oh yes, yes, yes, yes, yes! Always the same stale answers! (intimately to the priest) There is no God of Mercy, Father. Just a God of torture. CUT TO: INT. SALIERI'S APARTMENT - BEDROOM - NIGHT - 1780'S Salieri sits at his desk, staring up at the cross. OLD SALIERI (V.O.) Evening came to that room. I sat there not knowing whether the girl would return or not. I prayed as I'd never prayed before. SALIERI Dear God, enter me now. Fill me with one piece of true music. One piece with your breath in it, so I know that you love me. Please. Just one. Show me one sign of your favour, and I will show mine to Mozart and his wife. I will get him the royal position, and if she comes, I'll receive her with all respect and send her home in joy. Enter me! Enter me! Please! Te imploro. Long, long silence. Salieri stares at the cross. Christ stares back at him impassively. Finally in this silence we hear a faint knocking at the door. Salieri stirs himself. A servant appears. SERVANT That lady is back, sir. SALIERI Show her in. Then go to bed. The Servant bows and leaves. We follow him through: INT. MUSIC ROOM IN SALIERI'S APARTMENT - NIGHT - 1780'S The Servant crosses it and enters: INT. SALON IN SALIERI'S APARTMENT - NIGHT - 1780'S Constanze is sitting on an upright chair, veiled as before, the portfolio of music on her lap. Through the far door leading from the hall, another servant is peering at her. The first servant joins him and shuts the door on the girl, leaving her alone. We stay with her. The clock ticks on the mantelpiece. We hear an old carriage pass in the street below. Nervously she lifts her veil and looks about her. Suddenly Salieri appears from the music room. He is pale and very tight. They regard each other. She smiles and rises to greet him, affecting a relaxed and warm manner, as if to put him at his ease. CONSTANZE Well, I'm here. My husband has gone to a concert. He didn't think I would enjoy it. A pause. CONSTANZE I do apologize for this afternoon. I behaved like a silly girl. Where shall we go? SALIERI What? CONSTANZE Should we stay here? It's a charming room. I love these candlesticks. Were they here earlier? I didn't notice them I suppose I was too nervous. As she talks, she extinguishes the candles in a pair of Venetian candelabra and subsequently other candles around the room. CONSTANZE Wolfgang was given some candlesticks by King George in England, but they were only wood. Oh, excuse me. Let's not talk about him. What do you think of this? It's real lace. Brussels. She turns and takes off her shawl. CONSTANZE Well, it's much too good for every day. I keep saying to Wolfi, don't be so extravagant. Presents are lovely, but we can't afford them. It doesn't do any good. The more I tell him, the more he spends. Oh, excuse me! There I go again. She picks up the portfolio. CONSTANZE Do you still want to look at this? Or don't we need to bother anymore? I imagine we don't, really. She looks at him inquiringly, and drops the portfolio on the floor; pages of music pour out of it. Instantly we hear a massive chord, and the great Qui Tollis from the Mass in C Minor fills the room. To its grand and weighty sound, Constanze starts to undress, watched by the horrified Salieri. Between him and her, music is an active presence, hurting and baffling him. He opens his mouth in distress. The music pounds in his head. The candle flickers over her as she removes her clothes and prepares for his embrace. Suddenly he cries out. SALIERI Go! Go! Go! He snatches up the bell and shakes it frantically, not stopping until the two servants we saw earlier appear at the door. The music stops abruptly. They stare at the appalled and frightened Constanze, who is desperately trying to cover her nakedness. SALIERI Show this woman out! Constanze hurls herself at him. CONSTANZE You shit! You shit! You rotten shit! He seizes her wrists and thrusts her back. Then he leaves the room quickly, slamming the door behind him. Constanze turns and sees the two servants goggling at her in the room. CONSTANZE What are you staring at? Wildly, she picks up the candelabrum and throws it at them. It shatters on the floor. INT. SALIERI'S APARTMENT - BEDROOM - NIGHT - 1780'S CU, Salieri standing, his eyes shut, shaking in distress. He opens them and sees Christ across the room, staring at him from the wall. OLD SALIERI (V.O.) From now on, we are enemies, You and I! CUT TO: INT. OLD SALIERI'S HOSPITAL ROOM - NIGHT - 1823 The old man is reliving the experience. Vogler looks at him, horrified. OLD SALIERI Because You will not enter me, with all my need for you; because You scorn my attempts at virtue; because You choose for Your instrument a boastful, lustful, smutty infantile boy and give me for reward only the ability to recognize the Incarnation; because You are unjust, unfair, unkind, I will block You! I swear it! I will hinder and harm Your creature on earth as far as I am able. I will ruin Your Incarnation. CUT BACK TO: INT. SALIERI'S APARTMENT - BEDROOM - NIGHT - 1780'S CU, the fireplace. In it lies the olivewood Christ on the cross, burning. OLD SALIERI (V.O.) What use after all is Man, if not to teach God His lessons? The cross flames up and disintegrates. Salieri stares at it. CUT TO: INT. MOZART'S APARTMENT - LIVING ROOM - NIGHT - 1780'S The front door bursts open. Mozart stumbles in, followed by EMMANUEL SCHIKANEDER, three young actresses, and another man, all fairly drunk. Schikaneder (who appears everywhere accompanied by young girls) is a large, fleshy, extravagant man of about thirty-five. MOZART Stanzi! Stanzi! Stanzi-Manzi! The others laugh. MOZART Sssh! SCHIKANEDER (imitating Mozart) Stanzi-Manzi-Banzi-Wanzi! MOZART Sssh! Stay here. He walks unsteadily to the bedroom door and opens it. SCHIKANEDER (to the girls, very tipsy) Sssh! You're dishgrashful! INT. MOZART'S APARTMENT - BEDROOM - NIGHT - 1780'S Constanze lies in bed, her back turned to her husband, who comes into the room and shuts the door. MOZART (playfully) Stanzi? How's my mouse? Mouse-wouse? I'm back - puss-wuss is back! She turns around abruptly. She looks dreadful; her eyes red with weeping. Mozart is shocked. MOZART Stanzi! He approaches the bed and sits on it. Immediately she starts crying again, desperately. MOZART What's the matter? What is it? Stanzi! He holds her and she clings to him in a fierce embrace, crying a flood of tears. MOZART Stop it now. Stop it. I've brought some friends to meet you. They're next door waiting. Do we have anything to eat? They're all starving. CONSTANZE Tell them to go away. I don't want to see anybody. MOZART What's the matter with you? CONSTANZE Tell them to go! MOZART Sssh. What is it? Tell me. CONSTANZE No! MOZART Yes! CONSTANZE I love you! I love you! She starts crying again, throwing her arms around his neck. CONSTANZE I love you. Please stay with me. I'm frightened. INT. THE ROYAL PALACE - DINING ROOM - DAY - 1780'S Joseph sits eating. A butler serves him goat's milk to drink. Joseph is holding a memorandum from Salieri in his hand. Salieri stands before him. JOSEPH I don't think you understand me, Court Composer. SALIERI Majesty, I did. Believe me, it was a most agonizing. decision. But finally, I simply could not recommend Herr Mozart. JOSEPH Why not? SALIERI Well, Sire, I made some inquiries in a routine way. I was curious to know why he had so few pupils. It is rather alarming. JOSEPH Oh? With a gesture Joseph dismisses the butler, who bows and leaves the room. SALIERI Majesty, I don't like to talk against a fellow musician. JOSEPH Of course not. SALIERI I have to tell you, Mozart is not entirely to be trusted alone with young ladies. JOSEPH Really? SALIERI As a matter of fact, one of my own pupils - a very young singer - told me she was - er - well! JOSEPH Yes? SALIERI Molested, Majesty. Twice, in the course of the same lesson. A pause. JOSEPH Ah-ha. Well. There it is. INT. SALIERI'S HOUSE - STAIRCASE - VIENNA - DAY - 1780'S Salieri has just returned from the palace and is coming up the staircase. He is met by his servant. SERVANT Sir, there is a Herr Mozart waiting for you in the salon. Salieri is plainly alarmed. SALIERI What does he want? SERVANT He didn't say, sir. I told him I didn't know when you would be back, but he insisted on waiting. SALIERI Come with me. And stay in the room. He mounts the stairs. INT. SALIERI'S APARTMENT - SALON - DAY - 1780'S Mozart is waiting for Salieri, holding a portfolio. Salieri approaches him nervously. Mozart stands not belligerently, but humbly. SALIERI Herr Mozart, what brings you here? MOZART Your Excellency, you requested some specimens of my work. Here they are. I don't have to tell you how much I need your help. I truly appreciate your looking at these. I have pressures on me - financial pressures. As you know, I'm a married man now. SALIERI So you are. How is your pretty wife? MOZART She is well. She is - well, actually, I'm about to become a father! She only told me last night. You are the first to know. SALIERI I'm flattered. And congratulations to you, of course. MOZART So you see, this post is very important to me right now. Salieri looks at him in distress. SALIERI Why didn't you come to me yesterday, Mozart? This is a most painful situation. Yesterday I could have helped you. Today, I can't. MOZART Why? Here is the music. It's here. I am submitting it humbly. Isn't that what you wanted? SALIERI I have just come from the palace. The post has been filled. MOZART Filled? That's impossible! They haven't even seen my work. I need this post. Please, can't you help me? Please! SALIERI My dear Mozart, there is no one in the world I would rather help, but now it is too late. MOZART Whom did they choose? SALIERI Herr Sommer. MOZART Sommer? Herr Sommer? But the man's a fool! He's a total mediocrity. SALIERI No, no, no: he has yet to achieve mediocrity. MOZART But I can't lose this post, I simply can't! Excellency, please. Let's go to the palace, and you can explain to the Emperor that Herr Sommer is an awful choice. He could actually do musical harm to the Princess! SALIERI An implausible idea. Between you and me, no one in the world could do musical harm to the Princess Elizabeth. Mozart chuckles delightedly. Salieri offers him a glass of white dessert and a spoon. Mozart takes it absently and goes on talking. MOZART Look, I must have pupils. Without pupils I can't manage. SALIERI You don't mean to tell me you are living in poverty? MOZART No, but I'm broke. I'm always broke. I don't know why. SALIERI It has been said, my friend, that you are inclined to live somewhat above your means. MOZART How can anyone say that? We have no cook, no maid. We have no footman. Nothing at all! SALIERI How is that possible? You give concerts, don't you? I hear they are quite successful. MOZART They're stupendously successful. You can't get a seat. The only problem is none will hire me. They all want to hear me play, but they won't let me teach their daughters. As if I was some kind of fiend. I'm not a fiend! SALIERI Of course not. MOZART Do you have a daughter? SALIERI I'm afraid not. MOZART Well, could you lend me some money till you have one?

tried

How many times the word 'tried' appears in the text?

All the same, why him? Why use Mozart to teach me lessons in humility? My heart was filling up with such hatred for that little man. For the first time in my life I began to know really violent thoughts. I couldn't stop them. VOGLER Did you try? OLD SALIERI Every day. Sometimes for hours I would pray! INT. SALIERI'S APARTMENT - BEDROOM - DAY - 1780'S The young Salieri is kneeling in desperation before the Cross. SALIERI Please! Please! Send him away, back to Salzburg. For his sake as well as mine. CU, Christ staring from the Cross. CUT BACK TO: INT. AUDIENCE HALL - ARCHBISHOP'S PALACE - SALZBURG - DAY - 1780'S We see Leopold kneeling now not to the Cross but to Archbishop Colloredo, sitting impassively on his throne. Count Arco stands beside him. Leopold is a desperate, once-handsome man of sixty, now far too much the subservient courtier. COLLOREDO No! I won't have him back. LEOPOLD But he needs to be here in Salzburg, Your Grace. He needs me and he needs you. Your protection, your understanding. COLLOREDO Hardly. LEOPOLD Oh sir, yes! He's about to make the worst mistake of his life. Some little Viennese slut is trying to trick him into marriage. I know my son. He is too simple to see the trap - and there is no one there who really cares for him. COLLOREDO I'm not surprised. Money seems to be more important to him than loyalty or friendship. He has sold himself to Vienna. Let Vienna look out for him. LEOPOLD Sir - COLLOREDO Your son is an unprincipled, spoiled, conceited brat. LEOPOLD Yes, sir, that's the truth. But don't blame him. The fault is mine. I was too indulgent with him. But not again. Never again, I promise! I implore you - let me bring him back here. I'll make him give his word to serve you faithfully. COLLOREDO And how will you make him keep it? LEOPOLD Oh, sir, he's never disobeyed me in anything. Please, Your Grace, give him one more chance. COLLOREDO You have leave to try. LEOPOLD Oh, Your Grace - I thank Your Grace! I thank you! In deepest gratitude he kisses the Archbishop's hand. He motions Leopold to rise. We hear the first dark fortissimo chord which begins the Overture to Don Giovanni: the theme associated with the character of the Commendatore. LEOPOLD (V.O.) My dear son. The second fortissimo chord sounds. INT. A BAROQUE CHURCH - DAY - 1780'S We see a huge CU, of Mozart's head, looking front and down, as if reading his father's letter. We hear Leopold's voice over this image, no longer whining and anxious, but impressive. LEOPOLD (V.O.) I write to you with urgent news. I am coming to Vienna. Take no further steps toward marriage until we meet. You are too gullible to see your own danger. As you honour the father who has devoted his entire life to yours, do as I bid, and await my coming. MOZART I will. The camera pulls back to see that he is in fact kneeling beside Constanze. A PRIEST faces them. Behind them are Madame Weber, Josefa and Sophie Weber, and a very few others. Among them, a merry looking lady in bright clothes: the BARONESS WALDSTADTEN. PRIEST And will you, Constanze Weber, take this man, Wolfgang to be your lawful husband? CONSTANZE I will. PRIEST I now pronounce you man and wife. The opening kyrie of the great Mass in C Minor is heard. Mozart and Constanze kiss. They are in tears. Madame Weber and her daughters look on approvingly. The music swells and continues under the following: INT. A ROOM IN LEOPOLD'S HOUSE - SALZBURG - NIGHT - 1780'S There is a view of a castle in background. Leopold sits alone in his room. He is reading a letter from Wolfgang. At his feet are his trunks, half-packed for the journey he will not now take. We hear Mozart's voice reading the following letter and we see, as the camera roves around the room, mementos of the young prodigy's early life: the little forte-piano made for him; the little violin made for him; an Order presented to him. We see a little starling in a wicker cage. And we see portraits of the boy on the walls, concluding with the familiar family portrait of Wolfgang and his sister Nannerl seated at the keyboard with Leopold standing, and the picture of their mother on the wall behind them. MOZART (V.O.) Most beloved father, it is done. Do not blame me that I did not wait to see your dear face. I knew you would have tried to dissuade me from my truest happiness and I could not have borne it. Your every word is precious to me. Remember how you have always told me Vienna is the City of Musicians. To conquer here is to conquer Europe! With my wife I can do it. I vow I will become regular in my habits and productive as never before. She is wonderful, Papa, and I know that you will love her. And one day soon when I am a wealthy man, you will come and live with us, and we will be so happy. I long for that day, best of Papas, and kiss your hand a hundred thousand times. The music of the Mass fades as Leopold crumples the letter in his hand. EXT. THE IMPERIAL GARDENS - VIENNA - DAY - 1780'S Salieri stands waiting, hat in hand. Beside him stands a royal servant. Behind him, gardeners are glimpsed tending the shrubs and bushes along a grassy ride. Down this ride are seen cantering two people on horseback: the Emperor Joseph and his niece, the PRINCESS ELIZABETH. They are mounted on glossy horses. The Princess rides side-saddle. Running beside her is a panting groom. The Emperor rides elegantly; his niece, a dumpy little Hapsburg girl of sixteen, like a sack of potatoes. As they draw level with Salieri they stop, and the groom holds the head of the Princess' horse. Salieri bows respectfully. JOSEPH Good morning, Court Composer. This is my niece, the Princess Elizabeth. SALIERI Your Highness. Out of breath, the Princess nods nervously. JOSEPH She has asked me to advise her on a suitable musical instructor. I think I've come up with an excellent idea. He smiles at Salieri. SALIERI Oh, Your Majesty, it would be such a tremendous honour! JOSEPH I'm thinking about Herr Mozart. What is your view? Salieri's face falls, almost imperceptibly. SALIERI An interesting idea, Majesty. But - JOSEPH Yes? SALIERI You already commissioned an opera from Mozart. JOSEPH And the result satisfies. SALIERI Yes, of course. My concern is to protect you from any suspicion of favouritism. JOSEPH Ah-ha. Favouritism. But I so want Mozart. SALIERI I'm sure there is a way, Majesty. Some kind of a little contest. I could perhaps put together a small Committee, and I could see to it naturally that it will select according to Your Majesty's wishes. JOSEPH You please me, Court Composer. A very clever idea. SALIERI (bowing) Sire. JOSEPH Well. There it is. He rides on. The groom releases her horse's head, and runs on after the Princess. CUT TO: INT. CHAMBERLAIN VON STRACK'S STUDY - DAY - 1780'S Von Strack sits stiffly behind his gilded desk. Mozart stands before him, trembling with anger. MOZART What is this, Herr Chamberlain? VON STRACK What is what? MOZART Why do I have to submit samples of my work to some stupid committee? Just to teach a sixteen-year-old girl. VON STRACK Because His Majesty wishes it. MOZART Is the Emperor angry with me? VON STRACK On the contrary. MOZART Then why doesn't he simply appoint me to the post? VON STRACK Mozart, you are not the only composer in Vienna. MOZART No, but I'm the best. VON STRACK A little modesty would suit you better. MOZART Who is on this committee? VON STRACK Kapellmeister Bonno, Count Orsini- Rosenberg and Court Composer Salieri. MOZART Naturally, the Italians! Of course! Always the Italians! VON STRACK Mozart - MOZART They hate my music. It terrifies them. The only sound Italians understand is banality. Tonic and dominant, tonic and dominant, from here to Resurrection! (singing angrily) Ba-ba! Ba-ba! Ba-ba! Ba-ba! Anything else is morbid. VON STRACK Mozart - MOZART Show them one interesting modulation and they faint. Ohime! Morbidezza! Morbidezza! Italians are musical idiots and you want them to judge my music! VON STRACK Look, young man, the issue is simple. If you want this post, you must submit your stuff in the same way as all your colleagues. MOZART Must I? Well, I won't! I tell you straight: I will not! CUT TO: INT. MOZART'S APARTMENT - BEDROOM - VIENNA - DAY - 1780'S The room is very small and untidy. Constanze is marching up and down it, upset. Mozart is lying on the bed. CONSTANZE I think you're mad! You're really mad! MOZART Oh, leave me alone. CONSTANZE One royal pupil and the whole of Vienna will come flocking. We'd be set up for life! MOZART They'll come anyway. They love me here. CONSTANZE No, they will not. I know how things work in this city. MOZART Oh yes? You always know everything. CONSTANZE Well, I'm not borrowing any more money from my mother, and that's that! MOZART You borrowed money from your mother? CONSTANZE Yes! MOZART Well, don't do that again! CONSTANZE How are we going to live, Wolfi? Do you want me to go into the streets and beg? MOZART Don't be stupid. CONSTANZE All they want to see is your work. What's wrong with that? MOZART Shut up! Just shut up! I don't need them. CONSTANZE This isn't pride. It's sheer stupidity! She glares at him, almost in tears. CUT TO: INT. SALIERI'S MUSIC ROOM - LATE AFTERNOON - 1780'S Salieri is giving a lesson to a girl student, who is singing the Italian art song, Caro Mio Ben. There is a knock on the door. SALIERI Yes. A SERVANT enters. SERVANT Excuse me, sir, there is a lady who insists on talking to you. SALIERI Who is she? SERVANT She didn't say. But she says it's urgent. SALIERI (to the pupil) Excuse me, my dear. Salieri goes into the salon. CUT TO: INT. THE SALON - LATE AFTERNOON - 1780'S Constanze stands, closely veiled, holding a portfolio stuffed with manuscripts. The singing lesson ends, with two chords on the instrument. Salieri enters the salon. Constanze drops him a shy curtsey. CONSTANZE Excellency! SALIERI Madame. How can I help you? Shyly, she unveils. SALIERI Frau Mozart? CONSTANZE That's right, Your Excellency. I've come on behalf of my hus band. I'm - I'm bringing some samples of his work so he can be considered for the royal appointment. SALIERI How charming. But why did he not come himself? CONSTANZE He's terribly busy, sir. SALIERI I understand. He takes the portfolio and puts it on a table. SALIERI I will look at them, of course, the moment I can. It will be an honour. Please give him my warmest. CONSTANZE Would it be too much trouble, sir, to ask you to look at them now? While I wait. SALIERI I'm afraid I'm not at leisure this very moment. Just leave them with me. I assure you they will be quite safe. CONSTANZE I - I really cannot do that, Your Excellency. You see, he doesn't know I'm here. SALIERI Really? CONSTANZE My husband is a proud man, sir. He would be furious if he knew I'd come. SALIERI Then he didn't send you? CONSTANZE No, sir. This is my own idea. SALIERI I see. CONSTANZE Sir, we really need this job. We're desperate. My husband spends far more than he can ever earn. I don't mean he's lazy - he's not at all - he works all day long. It's just! he's not practical. Money simply slips through his fingers, it's really ridiculous, Your Excellency. I know you help musicians. You're famous for it. Give him just this one post. We'd be forever indebted! A short pause. SALIERI Let me offer you some refreshment. Do you know what these are? He indicates a dish piled high with glazed chestnuts. SALIERI Cappezzoli di Venere. Nipples of Venus. Roman chestnuts in brandied sugar. Won't you try one? They're quite surprising. He offers her the dish. She takes one and puts it in her mouth. He watches carefully. CONSTANZE Oh! They're wonderful. He takes one himself. We notice on his finger a heavy gold signet-ring. CONSTANZE Thank you very much, Your Excellency. SALIERI Don't keep calling me that. It puts me at such a distance. I was not born a Court Composer, you know. I'm from a small town, just like your husband. He smiles at her. She takes another chestnut. SALIERI Are you sure you can't leave that music, and come back again? I have other things you might like. CONSTANZE That's very tempting, but it's impossible, I'm afraid. Wolfi would be frantic if he found those were missing. You see, they're all originals. SALIERI Originals? CONSTANZE Yes. A pause. He puts out his hand and takes up the portfolio from the table. He opens it. He looks at the music. He is puzzled. SALIERI These are originals? CONSTANZE Yes, sir. He doesn't make copies. CUT TO: INT. OLD SALIERI'S HOSPITAL ROOM - NIGHT - 1823 The old man faces the Priest. OLD SALIERI Astounding! It was actually beyond belief. These were first and only drafts of music yet they showed no corrections of any kind. Not one. Do you realize what that meant? Vogler stares at him. OLD SALIERI He'd simply put down music already finished in his head. Page after page of it, as if he was just taking dictation. And music finished as no music is ever finished. INT. SALIERI'S SALON - LATE AFTERNOON - 1780'S CU, The manuscript in Mozart's handwriting. The music begins to sound under the following: OLD SALIERI (V.O.) Displace one note and there would be diminishment. Displace one phrase, and the structure would fall. It was clear to me. That sound I had heard in the Archbishop's palace had been no accident. Here again was the very voice of God! I was staring through the cage of those meticulous ink- strokes at an absolute, inimitable beauty. The music swells. What we now hear is an amazing collage of great passages from Mozart's music, ravishing to Salieri and to us. The Court Composer, oblivious to Constanze, who sits happily chewing chestnuts, her mouth covered in sugar, walks around and around his salon, reading the pages and dropping them on the floor when he is done with them. We see his agonized and wondering face: he shudders as if in a rough and tumbling sea; he experiences the point where beauty and great pain coalesce. More pages fall than he can read, scattering across the floor in a white cascade, as he circles the room. Finally, we hear the tremendous Qui Tollis from the Mass in C Minor. It seems to break over him like a wave and, unable to bear any more of it, he slams the portfolio shut. Instantly, the music breaks off, reverberating in his head. He stands shaking, staring wildly. Constanze gets up, perplexed. CONSTANZE Is it no good? A pause. SALIERI It is miraculous. CONSTANZE Oh yes. He's really proud of his work. Another pause. CONSTANZE So, will you help him? Salieri tries to recover himself. SALIERI Tomorrow night I dine with the Emperor. One word from me and the post is his. CONSTANZE Oh, thank you, sir! Overjoyed, she stops and kisses his hand. He raises her - and then clasps her to him clumsily. She pushes herself away. SALIERI Come back tonight. CONSTANZE Tonight? SALIERI Alone. CONSTANZE What for? SALIERI Some service deserves service in return. No? CONSTANZE What do you mean? SALIERI Isn't it obvious? They stare at one another: Constanze in total disbelief. SALIERI It's a post all Vienna seeks. If you want it for your husband, come tonight. CONSTANZE But! I'm a married woman! SALIERI Then don't. It's up to you. Not to be vague, that is the price. He glares at her. SALIERI Yes. He rings a silver bell for a servant and abruptly leaves the roam. Constanze stares after him, horrified. The servant enters. Shocked and stunned, Constanze goes down an her knees and starts picking up the music from the floor. CUT TO: INT. OLD SALIERI'S HOSPITAL ROOM - NIGHT - 1823 CU, Father Vogler, horrified. OLD SALIERI Yes, Father. Yes! So much for my vow of chastity. What did it matter? Good, patient, hard-working, chaste - what did it matter? Had goodness made me a good composer? I realized it absolutely then - that moment: goodness is nothing in the furnace of art. And I was nothing to God. VOGLER (crying out) You cannot say that! OLD SALIERI No? Was Mozart a good man? VOGLER God's ways are not yours. And you are not here to question Him. Offer him the salt of penitence. He will give you back the bread of eternal life. He is all merciful. That is all you need to know. OLD SALIERI All I ever wanted was to sing to Him. That's His doing, isn't it? He gave me that longing - then made me mute. Why? Tell me that. If He didn't want me to serve Him with music, why implant the desire, like a lust in my body, then deny me the talent? Go on, tell me! Speak for Him! VOGLER My son, no one can speak for God. OLD SALIERI Oh? I thought you did so every day. So speak now. Answer me! VOGLER I do not claim to unravel the mysteries. I treasure them. As you should. OLD SALIERI (impatiently) Oh yes, yes, yes, yes, yes! Always the same stale answers! (intimately to the priest) There is no God of Mercy, Father. Just a God of torture. CUT TO: INT. SALIERI'S APARTMENT - BEDROOM - NIGHT - 1780'S Salieri sits at his desk, staring up at the cross. OLD SALIERI (V.O.) Evening came to that room. I sat there not knowing whether the girl would return or not. I prayed as I'd never prayed before. SALIERI Dear God, enter me now. Fill me with one piece of true music. One piece with your breath in it, so I know that you love me. Please. Just one. Show me one sign of your favour, and I will show mine to Mozart and his wife. I will get him the royal position, and if she comes, I'll receive her with all respect and send her home in joy. Enter me! Enter me! Please! Te imploro. Long, long silence. Salieri stares at the cross. Christ stares back at him impassively. Finally in this silence we hear a faint knocking at the door. Salieri stirs himself. A servant appears. SERVANT That lady is back, sir. SALIERI Show her in. Then go to bed. The Servant bows and leaves. We follow him through: INT. MUSIC ROOM IN SALIERI'S APARTMENT - NIGHT - 1780'S The Servant crosses it and enters: INT. SALON IN SALIERI'S APARTMENT - NIGHT - 1780'S Constanze is sitting on an upright chair, veiled as before, the portfolio of music on her lap. Through the far door leading from the hall, another servant is peering at her. The first servant joins him and shuts the door on the girl, leaving her alone. We stay with her. The clock ticks on the mantelpiece. We hear an old carriage pass in the street below. Nervously she lifts her veil and looks about her. Suddenly Salieri appears from the music room. He is pale and very tight. They regard each other. She smiles and rises to greet him, affecting a relaxed and warm manner, as if to put him at his ease. CONSTANZE Well, I'm here. My husband has gone to a concert. He didn't think I would enjoy it. A pause. CONSTANZE I do apologize for this afternoon. I behaved like a silly girl. Where shall we go? SALIERI What? CONSTANZE Should we stay here? It's a charming room. I love these candlesticks. Were they here earlier? I didn't notice them I suppose I was too nervous. As she talks, she extinguishes the candles in a pair of Venetian candelabra and subsequently other candles around the room. CONSTANZE Wolfgang was given some candlesticks by King George in England, but they were only wood. Oh, excuse me. Let's not talk about him. What do you think of this? It's real lace. Brussels. She turns and takes off her shawl. CONSTANZE Well, it's much too good for every day. I keep saying to Wolfi, don't be so extravagant. Presents are lovely, but we can't afford them. It doesn't do any good. The more I tell him, the more he spends. Oh, excuse me! There I go again. She picks up the portfolio. CONSTANZE Do you still want to look at this? Or don't we need to bother anymore? I imagine we don't, really. She looks at him inquiringly, and drops the portfolio on the floor; pages of music pour out of it. Instantly we hear a massive chord, and the great Qui Tollis from the Mass in C Minor fills the room. To its grand and weighty sound, Constanze starts to undress, watched by the horrified Salieri. Between him and her, music is an active presence, hurting and baffling him. He opens his mouth in distress. The music pounds in his head. The candle flickers over her as she removes her clothes and prepares for his embrace. Suddenly he cries out. SALIERI Go! Go! Go! He snatches up the bell and shakes it frantically, not stopping until the two servants we saw earlier appear at the door. The music stops abruptly. They stare at the appalled and frightened Constanze, who is desperately trying to cover her nakedness. SALIERI Show this woman out! Constanze hurls herself at him. CONSTANZE You shit! You shit! You rotten shit! He seizes her wrists and thrusts her back. Then he leaves the room quickly, slamming the door behind him. Constanze turns and sees the two servants goggling at her in the room. CONSTANZE What are you staring at? Wildly, she picks up the candelabrum and throws it at them. It shatters on the floor. INT. SALIERI'S APARTMENT - BEDROOM - NIGHT - 1780'S CU, Salieri standing, his eyes shut, shaking in distress. He opens them and sees Christ across the room, staring at him from the wall. OLD SALIERI (V.O.) From now on, we are enemies, You and I! CUT TO: INT. OLD SALIERI'S HOSPITAL ROOM - NIGHT - 1823 The old man is reliving the experience. Vogler looks at him, horrified. OLD SALIERI Because You will not enter me, with all my need for you; because You scorn my attempts at virtue; because You choose for Your instrument a boastful, lustful, smutty infantile boy and give me for reward only the ability to recognize the Incarnation; because You are unjust, unfair, unkind, I will block You! I swear it! I will hinder and harm Your creature on earth as far as I am able. I will ruin Your Incarnation. CUT BACK TO: INT. SALIERI'S APARTMENT - BEDROOM - NIGHT - 1780'S CU, the fireplace. In it lies the olivewood Christ on the cross, burning. OLD SALIERI (V.O.) What use after all is Man, if not to teach God His lessons? The cross flames up and disintegrates. Salieri stares at it. CUT TO: INT. MOZART'S APARTMENT - LIVING ROOM - NIGHT - 1780'S The front door bursts open. Mozart stumbles in, followed by EMMANUEL SCHIKANEDER, three young actresses, and another man, all fairly drunk. Schikaneder (who appears everywhere accompanied by young girls) is a large, fleshy, extravagant man of about thirty-five. MOZART Stanzi! Stanzi! Stanzi-Manzi! The others laugh. MOZART Sssh! SCHIKANEDER (imitating Mozart) Stanzi-Manzi-Banzi-Wanzi! MOZART Sssh! Stay here. He walks unsteadily to the bedroom door and opens it. SCHIKANEDER (to the girls, very tipsy) Sssh! You're dishgrashful! INT. MOZART'S APARTMENT - BEDROOM - NIGHT - 1780'S Constanze lies in bed, her back turned to her husband, who comes into the room and shuts the door. MOZART (playfully) Stanzi? How's my mouse? Mouse-wouse? I'm back - puss-wuss is back! She turns around abruptly. She looks dreadful; her eyes red with weeping. Mozart is shocked. MOZART Stanzi! He approaches the bed and sits on it. Immediately she starts crying again, desperately. MOZART What's the matter? What is it? Stanzi! He holds her and she clings to him in a fierce embrace, crying a flood of tears. MOZART Stop it now. Stop it. I've brought some friends to meet you. They're next door waiting. Do we have anything to eat? They're all starving. CONSTANZE Tell them to go away. I don't want to see anybody. MOZART What's the matter with you? CONSTANZE Tell them to go! MOZART Sssh. What is it? Tell me. CONSTANZE No! MOZART Yes! CONSTANZE I love you! I love you! She starts crying again, throwing her arms around his neck. CONSTANZE I love you. Please stay with me. I'm frightened. INT. THE ROYAL PALACE - DINING ROOM - DAY - 1780'S Joseph sits eating. A butler serves him goat's milk to drink. Joseph is holding a memorandum from Salieri in his hand. Salieri stands before him. JOSEPH I don't think you understand me, Court Composer. SALIERI Majesty, I did. Believe me, it was a most agonizing. decision. But finally, I simply could not recommend Herr Mozart. JOSEPH Why not? SALIERI Well, Sire, I made some inquiries in a routine way. I was curious to know why he had so few pupils. It is rather alarming. JOSEPH Oh? With a gesture Joseph dismisses the butler, who bows and leaves the room. SALIERI Majesty, I don't like to talk against a fellow musician. JOSEPH Of course not. SALIERI I have to tell you, Mozart is not entirely to be trusted alone with young ladies. JOSEPH Really? SALIERI As a matter of fact, one of my own pupils - a very young singer - told me she was - er - well! JOSEPH Yes? SALIERI Molested, Majesty. Twice, in the course of the same lesson. A pause. JOSEPH Ah-ha. Well. There it is. INT. SALIERI'S HOUSE - STAIRCASE - VIENNA - DAY - 1780'S Salieri has just returned from the palace and is coming up the staircase. He is met by his servant. SERVANT Sir, there is a Herr Mozart waiting for you in the salon. Salieri is plainly alarmed. SALIERI What does he want? SERVANT He didn't say, sir. I told him I didn't know when you would be back, but he insisted on waiting. SALIERI Come with me. And stay in the room. He mounts the stairs. INT. SALIERI'S APARTMENT - SALON - DAY - 1780'S Mozart is waiting for Salieri, holding a portfolio. Salieri approaches him nervously. Mozart stands not belligerently, but humbly. SALIERI Herr Mozart, what brings you here? MOZART Your Excellency, you requested some specimens of my work. Here they are. I don't have to tell you how much I need your help. I truly appreciate your looking at these. I have pressures on me - financial pressures. As you know, I'm a married man now. SALIERI So you are. How is your pretty wife? MOZART She is well. She is - well, actually, I'm about to become a father! She only told me last night. You are the first to know. SALIERI I'm flattered. And congratulations to you, of course. MOZART So you see, this post is very important to me right now. Salieri looks at him in distress. SALIERI Why didn't you come to me yesterday, Mozart? This is a most painful situation. Yesterday I could have helped you. Today, I can't. MOZART Why? Here is the music. It's here. I am submitting it humbly. Isn't that what you wanted? SALIERI I have just come from the palace. The post has been filled. MOZART Filled? That's impossible! They haven't even seen my work. I need this post. Please, can't you help me? Please! SALIERI My dear Mozart, there is no one in the world I would rather help, but now it is too late. MOZART Whom did they choose? SALIERI Herr Sommer. MOZART Sommer? Herr Sommer? But the man's a fool! He's a total mediocrity. SALIERI No, no, no: he has yet to achieve mediocrity. MOZART But I can't lose this post, I simply can't! Excellency, please. Let's go to the palace, and you can explain to the Emperor that Herr Sommer is an awful choice. He could actually do musical harm to the Princess! SALIERI An implausible idea. Between you and me, no one in the world could do musical harm to the Princess Elizabeth. Mozart chuckles delightedly. Salieri offers him a glass of white dessert and a spoon. Mozart takes it absently and goes on talking. MOZART Look, I must have pupils. Without pupils I can't manage. SALIERI You don't mean to tell me you are living in poverty? MOZART No, but I'm broke. I'm always broke. I don't know why. SALIERI It has been said, my friend, that you are inclined to live somewhat above your means. MOZART How can anyone say that? We have no cook, no maid. We have no footman. Nothing at all! SALIERI How is that possible? You give concerts, don't you? I hear they are quite successful. MOZART They're stupendously successful. You can't get a seat. The only problem is none will hire me. They all want to hear me play, but they won't let me teach their daughters. As if I was some kind of fiend. I'm not a fiend! SALIERI Of course not. MOZART Do you have a daughter? SALIERI I'm afraid not. MOZART Well, could you lend me some money till you have one?

horses

How many times the word 'horses' appears in the text?

All the same, why him? Why use Mozart to teach me lessons in humility? My heart was filling up with such hatred for that little man. For the first time in my life I began to know really violent thoughts. I couldn't stop them. VOGLER Did you try? OLD SALIERI Every day. Sometimes for hours I would pray! INT. SALIERI'S APARTMENT - BEDROOM - DAY - 1780'S The young Salieri is kneeling in desperation before the Cross. SALIERI Please! Please! Send him away, back to Salzburg. For his sake as well as mine. CU, Christ staring from the Cross. CUT BACK TO: INT. AUDIENCE HALL - ARCHBISHOP'S PALACE - SALZBURG - DAY - 1780'S We see Leopold kneeling now not to the Cross but to Archbishop Colloredo, sitting impassively on his throne. Count Arco stands beside him. Leopold is a desperate, once-handsome man of sixty, now far too much the subservient courtier. COLLOREDO No! I won't have him back. LEOPOLD But he needs to be here in Salzburg, Your Grace. He needs me and he needs you. Your protection, your understanding. COLLOREDO Hardly. LEOPOLD Oh sir, yes! He's about to make the worst mistake of his life. Some little Viennese slut is trying to trick him into marriage. I know my son. He is too simple to see the trap - and there is no one there who really cares for him. COLLOREDO I'm not surprised. Money seems to be more important to him than loyalty or friendship. He has sold himself to Vienna. Let Vienna look out for him. LEOPOLD Sir - COLLOREDO Your son is an unprincipled, spoiled, conceited brat. LEOPOLD Yes, sir, that's the truth. But don't blame him. The fault is mine. I was too indulgent with him. But not again. Never again, I promise! I implore you - let me bring him back here. I'll make him give his word to serve you faithfully. COLLOREDO And how will you make him keep it? LEOPOLD Oh, sir, he's never disobeyed me in anything. Please, Your Grace, give him one more chance. COLLOREDO You have leave to try. LEOPOLD Oh, Your Grace - I thank Your Grace! I thank you! In deepest gratitude he kisses the Archbishop's hand. He motions Leopold to rise. We hear the first dark fortissimo chord which begins the Overture to Don Giovanni: the theme associated with the character of the Commendatore. LEOPOLD (V.O.) My dear son. The second fortissimo chord sounds. INT. A BAROQUE CHURCH - DAY - 1780'S We see a huge CU, of Mozart's head, looking front and down, as if reading his father's letter. We hear Leopold's voice over this image, no longer whining and anxious, but impressive. LEOPOLD (V.O.) I write to you with urgent news. I am coming to Vienna. Take no further steps toward marriage until we meet. You are too gullible to see your own danger. As you honour the father who has devoted his entire life to yours, do as I bid, and await my coming. MOZART I will. The camera pulls back to see that he is in fact kneeling beside Constanze. A PRIEST faces them. Behind them are Madame Weber, Josefa and Sophie Weber, and a very few others. Among them, a merry looking lady in bright clothes: the BARONESS WALDSTADTEN. PRIEST And will you, Constanze Weber, take this man, Wolfgang to be your lawful husband? CONSTANZE I will. PRIEST I now pronounce you man and wife. The opening kyrie of the great Mass in C Minor is heard. Mozart and Constanze kiss. They are in tears. Madame Weber and her daughters look on approvingly. The music swells and continues under the following: INT. A ROOM IN LEOPOLD'S HOUSE - SALZBURG - NIGHT - 1780'S There is a view of a castle in background. Leopold sits alone in his room. He is reading a letter from Wolfgang. At his feet are his trunks, half-packed for the journey he will not now take. We hear Mozart's voice reading the following letter and we see, as the camera roves around the room, mementos of the young prodigy's early life: the little forte-piano made for him; the little violin made for him; an Order presented to him. We see a little starling in a wicker cage. And we see portraits of the boy on the walls, concluding with the familiar family portrait of Wolfgang and his sister Nannerl seated at the keyboard with Leopold standing, and the picture of their mother on the wall behind them. MOZART (V.O.) Most beloved father, it is done. Do not blame me that I did not wait to see your dear face. I knew you would have tried to dissuade me from my truest happiness and I could not have borne it. Your every word is precious to me. Remember how you have always told me Vienna is the City of Musicians. To conquer here is to conquer Europe! With my wife I can do it. I vow I will become regular in my habits and productive as never before. She is wonderful, Papa, and I know that you will love her. And one day soon when I am a wealthy man, you will come and live with us, and we will be so happy. I long for that day, best of Papas, and kiss your hand a hundred thousand times. The music of the Mass fades as Leopold crumples the letter in his hand. EXT. THE IMPERIAL GARDENS - VIENNA - DAY - 1780'S Salieri stands waiting, hat in hand. Beside him stands a royal servant. Behind him, gardeners are glimpsed tending the shrubs and bushes along a grassy ride. Down this ride are seen cantering two people on horseback: the Emperor Joseph and his niece, the PRINCESS ELIZABETH. They are mounted on glossy horses. The Princess rides side-saddle. Running beside her is a panting groom. The Emperor rides elegantly; his niece, a dumpy little Hapsburg girl of sixteen, like a sack of potatoes. As they draw level with Salieri they stop, and the groom holds the head of the Princess' horse. Salieri bows respectfully. JOSEPH Good morning, Court Composer. This is my niece, the Princess Elizabeth. SALIERI Your Highness. Out of breath, the Princess nods nervously. JOSEPH She has asked me to advise her on a suitable musical instructor. I think I've come up with an excellent idea. He smiles at Salieri. SALIERI Oh, Your Majesty, it would be such a tremendous honour! JOSEPH I'm thinking about Herr Mozart. What is your view? Salieri's face falls, almost imperceptibly. SALIERI An interesting idea, Majesty. But - JOSEPH Yes? SALIERI You already commissioned an opera from Mozart. JOSEPH And the result satisfies. SALIERI Yes, of course. My concern is to protect you from any suspicion of favouritism. JOSEPH Ah-ha. Favouritism. But I so want Mozart. SALIERI I'm sure there is a way, Majesty. Some kind of a little contest. I could perhaps put together a small Committee, and I could see to it naturally that it will select according to Your Majesty's wishes. JOSEPH You please me, Court Composer. A very clever idea. SALIERI (bowing) Sire. JOSEPH Well. There it is. He rides on. The groom releases her horse's head, and runs on after the Princess. CUT TO: INT. CHAMBERLAIN VON STRACK'S STUDY - DAY - 1780'S Von Strack sits stiffly behind his gilded desk. Mozart stands before him, trembling with anger. MOZART What is this, Herr Chamberlain? VON STRACK What is what? MOZART Why do I have to submit samples of my work to some stupid committee? Just to teach a sixteen-year-old girl. VON STRACK Because His Majesty wishes it. MOZART Is the Emperor angry with me? VON STRACK On the contrary. MOZART Then why doesn't he simply appoint me to the post? VON STRACK Mozart, you are not the only composer in Vienna. MOZART No, but I'm the best. VON STRACK A little modesty would suit you better. MOZART Who is on this committee? VON STRACK Kapellmeister Bonno, Count Orsini- Rosenberg and Court Composer Salieri. MOZART Naturally, the Italians! Of course! Always the Italians! VON STRACK Mozart - MOZART They hate my music. It terrifies them. The only sound Italians understand is banality. Tonic and dominant, tonic and dominant, from here to Resurrection! (singing angrily) Ba-ba! Ba-ba! Ba-ba! Ba-ba! Anything else is morbid. VON STRACK Mozart - MOZART Show them one interesting modulation and they faint. Ohime! Morbidezza! Morbidezza! Italians are musical idiots and you want them to judge my music! VON STRACK Look, young man, the issue is simple. If you want this post, you must submit your stuff in the same way as all your colleagues. MOZART Must I? Well, I won't! I tell you straight: I will not! CUT TO: INT. MOZART'S APARTMENT - BEDROOM - VIENNA - DAY - 1780'S The room is very small and untidy. Constanze is marching up and down it, upset. Mozart is lying on the bed. CONSTANZE I think you're mad! You're really mad! MOZART Oh, leave me alone. CONSTANZE One royal pupil and the whole of Vienna will come flocking. We'd be set up for life! MOZART They'll come anyway. They love me here. CONSTANZE No, they will not. I know how things work in this city. MOZART Oh yes? You always know everything. CONSTANZE Well, I'm not borrowing any more money from my mother, and that's that! MOZART You borrowed money from your mother? CONSTANZE Yes! MOZART Well, don't do that again! CONSTANZE How are we going to live, Wolfi? Do you want me to go into the streets and beg? MOZART Don't be stupid. CONSTANZE All they want to see is your work. What's wrong with that? MOZART Shut up! Just shut up! I don't need them. CONSTANZE This isn't pride. It's sheer stupidity! She glares at him, almost in tears. CUT TO: INT. SALIERI'S MUSIC ROOM - LATE AFTERNOON - 1780'S Salieri is giving a lesson to a girl student, who is singing the Italian art song, Caro Mio Ben. There is a knock on the door. SALIERI Yes. A SERVANT enters. SERVANT Excuse me, sir, there is a lady who insists on talking to you. SALIERI Who is she? SERVANT She didn't say. But she says it's urgent. SALIERI (to the pupil) Excuse me, my dear. Salieri goes into the salon. CUT TO: INT. THE SALON - LATE AFTERNOON - 1780'S Constanze stands, closely veiled, holding a portfolio stuffed with manuscripts. The singing lesson ends, with two chords on the instrument. Salieri enters the salon. Constanze drops him a shy curtsey. CONSTANZE Excellency! SALIERI Madame. How can I help you? Shyly, she unveils. SALIERI Frau Mozart? CONSTANZE That's right, Your Excellency. I've come on behalf of my hus band. I'm - I'm bringing some samples of his work so he can be considered for the royal appointment. SALIERI How charming. But why did he not come himself? CONSTANZE He's terribly busy, sir. SALIERI I understand. He takes the portfolio and puts it on a table. SALIERI I will look at them, of course, the moment I can. It will be an honour. Please give him my warmest. CONSTANZE Would it be too much trouble, sir, to ask you to look at them now? While I wait. SALIERI I'm afraid I'm not at leisure this very moment. Just leave them with me. I assure you they will be quite safe. CONSTANZE I - I really cannot do that, Your Excellency. You see, he doesn't know I'm here. SALIERI Really? CONSTANZE My husband is a proud man, sir. He would be furious if he knew I'd come. SALIERI Then he didn't send you? CONSTANZE No, sir. This is my own idea. SALIERI I see. CONSTANZE Sir, we really need this job. We're desperate. My husband spends far more than he can ever earn. I don't mean he's lazy - he's not at all - he works all day long. It's just! he's not practical. Money simply slips through his fingers, it's really ridiculous, Your Excellency. I know you help musicians. You're famous for it. Give him just this one post. We'd be forever indebted! A short pause. SALIERI Let me offer you some refreshment. Do you know what these are? He indicates a dish piled high with glazed chestnuts. SALIERI Cappezzoli di Venere. Nipples of Venus. Roman chestnuts in brandied sugar. Won't you try one? They're quite surprising. He offers her the dish. She takes one and puts it in her mouth. He watches carefully. CONSTANZE Oh! They're wonderful. He takes one himself. We notice on his finger a heavy gold signet-ring. CONSTANZE Thank you very much, Your Excellency. SALIERI Don't keep calling me that. It puts me at such a distance. I was not born a Court Composer, you know. I'm from a small town, just like your husband. He smiles at her. She takes another chestnut. SALIERI Are you sure you can't leave that music, and come back again? I have other things you might like. CONSTANZE That's very tempting, but it's impossible, I'm afraid. Wolfi would be frantic if he found those were missing. You see, they're all originals. SALIERI Originals? CONSTANZE Yes. A pause. He puts out his hand and takes up the portfolio from the table. He opens it. He looks at the music. He is puzzled. SALIERI These are originals? CONSTANZE Yes, sir. He doesn't make copies. CUT TO: INT. OLD SALIERI'S HOSPITAL ROOM - NIGHT - 1823 The old man faces the Priest. OLD SALIERI Astounding! It was actually beyond belief. These were first and only drafts of music yet they showed no corrections of any kind. Not one. Do you realize what that meant? Vogler stares at him. OLD SALIERI He'd simply put down music already finished in his head. Page after page of it, as if he was just taking dictation. And music finished as no music is ever finished. INT. SALIERI'S SALON - LATE AFTERNOON - 1780'S CU, The manuscript in Mozart's handwriting. The music begins to sound under the following: OLD SALIERI (V.O.) Displace one note and there would be diminishment. Displace one phrase, and the structure would fall. It was clear to me. That sound I had heard in the Archbishop's palace had been no accident. Here again was the very voice of God! I was staring through the cage of those meticulous ink- strokes at an absolute, inimitable beauty. The music swells. What we now hear is an amazing collage of great passages from Mozart's music, ravishing to Salieri and to us. The Court Composer, oblivious to Constanze, who sits happily chewing chestnuts, her mouth covered in sugar, walks around and around his salon, reading the pages and dropping them on the floor when he is done with them. We see his agonized and wondering face: he shudders as if in a rough and tumbling sea; he experiences the point where beauty and great pain coalesce. More pages fall than he can read, scattering across the floor in a white cascade, as he circles the room. Finally, we hear the tremendous Qui Tollis from the Mass in C Minor. It seems to break over him like a wave and, unable to bear any more of it, he slams the portfolio shut. Instantly, the music breaks off, reverberating in his head. He stands shaking, staring wildly. Constanze gets up, perplexed. CONSTANZE Is it no good? A pause. SALIERI It is miraculous. CONSTANZE Oh yes. He's really proud of his work. Another pause. CONSTANZE So, will you help him? Salieri tries to recover himself. SALIERI Tomorrow night I dine with the Emperor. One word from me and the post is his. CONSTANZE Oh, thank you, sir! Overjoyed, she stops and kisses his hand. He raises her - and then clasps her to him clumsily. She pushes herself away. SALIERI Come back tonight. CONSTANZE Tonight? SALIERI Alone. CONSTANZE What for? SALIERI Some service deserves service in return. No? CONSTANZE What do you mean? SALIERI Isn't it obvious? They stare at one another: Constanze in total disbelief. SALIERI It's a post all Vienna seeks. If you want it for your husband, come tonight. CONSTANZE But! I'm a married woman! SALIERI Then don't. It's up to you. Not to be vague, that is the price. He glares at her. SALIERI Yes. He rings a silver bell for a servant and abruptly leaves the roam. Constanze stares after him, horrified. The servant enters. Shocked and stunned, Constanze goes down an her knees and starts picking up the music from the floor. CUT TO: INT. OLD SALIERI'S HOSPITAL ROOM - NIGHT - 1823 CU, Father Vogler, horrified. OLD SALIERI Yes, Father. Yes! So much for my vow of chastity. What did it matter? Good, patient, hard-working, chaste - what did it matter? Had goodness made me a good composer? I realized it absolutely then - that moment: goodness is nothing in the furnace of art. And I was nothing to God. VOGLER (crying out) You cannot say that! OLD SALIERI No? Was Mozart a good man? VOGLER God's ways are not yours. And you are not here to question Him. Offer him the salt of penitence. He will give you back the bread of eternal life. He is all merciful. That is all you need to know. OLD SALIERI All I ever wanted was to sing to Him. That's His doing, isn't it? He gave me that longing - then made me mute. Why? Tell me that. If He didn't want me to serve Him with music, why implant the desire, like a lust in my body, then deny me the talent? Go on, tell me! Speak for Him! VOGLER My son, no one can speak for God. OLD SALIERI Oh? I thought you did so every day. So speak now. Answer me! VOGLER I do not claim to unravel the mysteries. I treasure them. As you should. OLD SALIERI (impatiently) Oh yes, yes, yes, yes, yes! Always the same stale answers! (intimately to the priest) There is no God of Mercy, Father. Just a God of torture. CUT TO: INT. SALIERI'S APARTMENT - BEDROOM - NIGHT - 1780'S Salieri sits at his desk, staring up at the cross. OLD SALIERI (V.O.) Evening came to that room. I sat there not knowing whether the girl would return or not. I prayed as I'd never prayed before. SALIERI Dear God, enter me now. Fill me with one piece of true music. One piece with your breath in it, so I know that you love me. Please. Just one. Show me one sign of your favour, and I will show mine to Mozart and his wife. I will get him the royal position, and if she comes, I'll receive her with all respect and send her home in joy. Enter me! Enter me! Please! Te imploro. Long, long silence. Salieri stares at the cross. Christ stares back at him impassively. Finally in this silence we hear a faint knocking at the door. Salieri stirs himself. A servant appears. SERVANT That lady is back, sir. SALIERI Show her in. Then go to bed. The Servant bows and leaves. We follow him through: INT. MUSIC ROOM IN SALIERI'S APARTMENT - NIGHT - 1780'S The Servant crosses it and enters: INT. SALON IN SALIERI'S APARTMENT - NIGHT - 1780'S Constanze is sitting on an upright chair, veiled as before, the portfolio of music on her lap. Through the far door leading from the hall, another servant is peering at her. The first servant joins him and shuts the door on the girl, leaving her alone. We stay with her. The clock ticks on the mantelpiece. We hear an old carriage pass in the street below. Nervously she lifts her veil and looks about her. Suddenly Salieri appears from the music room. He is pale and very tight. They regard each other. She smiles and rises to greet him, affecting a relaxed and warm manner, as if to put him at his ease. CONSTANZE Well, I'm here. My husband has gone to a concert. He didn't think I would enjoy it. A pause. CONSTANZE I do apologize for this afternoon. I behaved like a silly girl. Where shall we go? SALIERI What? CONSTANZE Should we stay here? It's a charming room. I love these candlesticks. Were they here earlier? I didn't notice them I suppose I was too nervous. As she talks, she extinguishes the candles in a pair of Venetian candelabra and subsequently other candles around the room. CONSTANZE Wolfgang was given some candlesticks by King George in England, but they were only wood. Oh, excuse me. Let's not talk about him. What do you think of this? It's real lace. Brussels. She turns and takes off her shawl. CONSTANZE Well, it's much too good for every day. I keep saying to Wolfi, don't be so extravagant. Presents are lovely, but we can't afford them. It doesn't do any good. The more I tell him, the more he spends. Oh, excuse me! There I go again. She picks up the portfolio. CONSTANZE Do you still want to look at this? Or don't we need to bother anymore? I imagine we don't, really. She looks at him inquiringly, and drops the portfolio on the floor; pages of music pour out of it. Instantly we hear a massive chord, and the great Qui Tollis from the Mass in C Minor fills the room. To its grand and weighty sound, Constanze starts to undress, watched by the horrified Salieri. Between him and her, music is an active presence, hurting and baffling him. He opens his mouth in distress. The music pounds in his head. The candle flickers over her as she removes her clothes and prepares for his embrace. Suddenly he cries out. SALIERI Go! Go! Go! He snatches up the bell and shakes it frantically, not stopping until the two servants we saw earlier appear at the door. The music stops abruptly. They stare at the appalled and frightened Constanze, who is desperately trying to cover her nakedness. SALIERI Show this woman out! Constanze hurls herself at him. CONSTANZE You shit! You shit! You rotten shit! He seizes her wrists and thrusts her back. Then he leaves the room quickly, slamming the door behind him. Constanze turns and sees the two servants goggling at her in the room. CONSTANZE What are you staring at? Wildly, she picks up the candelabrum and throws it at them. It shatters on the floor. INT. SALIERI'S APARTMENT - BEDROOM - NIGHT - 1780'S CU, Salieri standing, his eyes shut, shaking in distress. He opens them and sees Christ across the room, staring at him from the wall. OLD SALIERI (V.O.) From now on, we are enemies, You and I! CUT TO: INT. OLD SALIERI'S HOSPITAL ROOM - NIGHT - 1823 The old man is reliving the experience. Vogler looks at him, horrified. OLD SALIERI Because You will not enter me, with all my need for you; because You scorn my attempts at virtue; because You choose for Your instrument a boastful, lustful, smutty infantile boy and give me for reward only the ability to recognize the Incarnation; because You are unjust, unfair, unkind, I will block You! I swear it! I will hinder and harm Your creature on earth as far as I am able. I will ruin Your Incarnation. CUT BACK TO: INT. SALIERI'S APARTMENT - BEDROOM - NIGHT - 1780'S CU, the fireplace. In it lies the olivewood Christ on the cross, burning. OLD SALIERI (V.O.) What use after all is Man, if not to teach God His lessons? The cross flames up and disintegrates. Salieri stares at it. CUT TO: INT. MOZART'S APARTMENT - LIVING ROOM - NIGHT - 1780'S The front door bursts open. Mozart stumbles in, followed by EMMANUEL SCHIKANEDER, three young actresses, and another man, all fairly drunk. Schikaneder (who appears everywhere accompanied by young girls) is a large, fleshy, extravagant man of about thirty-five. MOZART Stanzi! Stanzi! Stanzi-Manzi! The others laugh. MOZART Sssh! SCHIKANEDER (imitating Mozart) Stanzi-Manzi-Banzi-Wanzi! MOZART Sssh! Stay here. He walks unsteadily to the bedroom door and opens it. SCHIKANEDER (to the girls, very tipsy) Sssh! You're dishgrashful! INT. MOZART'S APARTMENT - BEDROOM - NIGHT - 1780'S Constanze lies in bed, her back turned to her husband, who comes into the room and shuts the door. MOZART (playfully) Stanzi? How's my mouse? Mouse-wouse? I'm back - puss-wuss is back! She turns around abruptly. She looks dreadful; her eyes red with weeping. Mozart is shocked. MOZART Stanzi! He approaches the bed and sits on it. Immediately she starts crying again, desperately. MOZART What's the matter? What is it? Stanzi! He holds her and she clings to him in a fierce embrace, crying a flood of tears. MOZART Stop it now. Stop it. I've brought some friends to meet you. They're next door waiting. Do we have anything to eat? They're all starving. CONSTANZE Tell them to go away. I don't want to see anybody. MOZART What's the matter with you? CONSTANZE Tell them to go! MOZART Sssh. What is it? Tell me. CONSTANZE No! MOZART Yes! CONSTANZE I love you! I love you! She starts crying again, throwing her arms around his neck. CONSTANZE I love you. Please stay with me. I'm frightened. INT. THE ROYAL PALACE - DINING ROOM - DAY - 1780'S Joseph sits eating. A butler serves him goat's milk to drink. Joseph is holding a memorandum from Salieri in his hand. Salieri stands before him. JOSEPH I don't think you understand me, Court Composer. SALIERI Majesty, I did. Believe me, it was a most agonizing. decision. But finally, I simply could not recommend Herr Mozart. JOSEPH Why not? SALIERI Well, Sire, I made some inquiries in a routine way. I was curious to know why he had so few pupils. It is rather alarming. JOSEPH Oh? With a gesture Joseph dismisses the butler, who bows and leaves the room. SALIERI Majesty, I don't like to talk against a fellow musician. JOSEPH Of course not. SALIERI I have to tell you, Mozart is not entirely to be trusted alone with young ladies. JOSEPH Really? SALIERI As a matter of fact, one of my own pupils - a very young singer - told me she was - er - well! JOSEPH Yes? SALIERI Molested, Majesty. Twice, in the course of the same lesson. A pause. JOSEPH Ah-ha. Well. There it is. INT. SALIERI'S HOUSE - STAIRCASE - VIENNA - DAY - 1780'S Salieri has just returned from the palace and is coming up the staircase. He is met by his servant. SERVANT Sir, there is a Herr Mozart waiting for you in the salon. Salieri is plainly alarmed. SALIERI What does he want? SERVANT He didn't say, sir. I told him I didn't know when you would be back, but he insisted on waiting. SALIERI Come with me. And stay in the room. He mounts the stairs. INT. SALIERI'S APARTMENT - SALON - DAY - 1780'S Mozart is waiting for Salieri, holding a portfolio. Salieri approaches him nervously. Mozart stands not belligerently, but humbly. SALIERI Herr Mozart, what brings you here? MOZART Your Excellency, you requested some specimens of my work. Here they are. I don't have to tell you how much I need your help. I truly appreciate your looking at these. I have pressures on me - financial pressures. As you know, I'm a married man now. SALIERI So you are. How is your pretty wife? MOZART She is well. She is - well, actually, I'm about to become a father! She only told me last night. You are the first to know. SALIERI I'm flattered. And congratulations to you, of course. MOZART So you see, this post is very important to me right now. Salieri looks at him in distress. SALIERI Why didn't you come to me yesterday, Mozart? This is a most painful situation. Yesterday I could have helped you. Today, I can't. MOZART Why? Here is the music. It's here. I am submitting it humbly. Isn't that what you wanted? SALIERI I have just come from the palace. The post has been filled. MOZART Filled? That's impossible! They haven't even seen my work. I need this post. Please, can't you help me? Please! SALIERI My dear Mozart, there is no one in the world I would rather help, but now it is too late. MOZART Whom did they choose? SALIERI Herr Sommer. MOZART Sommer? Herr Sommer? But the man's a fool! He's a total mediocrity. SALIERI No, no, no: he has yet to achieve mediocrity. MOZART But I can't lose this post, I simply can't! Excellency, please. Let's go to the palace, and you can explain to the Emperor that Herr Sommer is an awful choice. He could actually do musical harm to the Princess! SALIERI An implausible idea. Between you and me, no one in the world could do musical harm to the Princess Elizabeth. Mozart chuckles delightedly. Salieri offers him a glass of white dessert and a spoon. Mozart takes it absently and goes on talking. MOZART Look, I must have pupils. Without pupils I can't manage. SALIERI You don't mean to tell me you are living in poverty? MOZART No, but I'm broke. I'm always broke. I don't know why. SALIERI It has been said, my friend, that you are inclined to live somewhat above your means. MOZART How can anyone say that? We have no cook, no maid. We have no footman. Nothing at all! SALIERI How is that possible? You give concerts, don't you? I hear they are quite successful. MOZART They're stupendously successful. You can't get a seat. The only problem is none will hire me. They all want to hear me play, but they won't let me teach their daughters. As if I was some kind of fiend. I'm not a fiend! SALIERI Of course not. MOZART Do you have a daughter? SALIERI I'm afraid not. MOZART Well, could you lend me some money till you have one?

majesty

How many times the word 'majesty' appears in the text?

All the same, why him? Why use Mozart to teach me lessons in humility? My heart was filling up with such hatred for that little man. For the first time in my life I began to know really violent thoughts. I couldn't stop them. VOGLER Did you try? OLD SALIERI Every day. Sometimes for hours I would pray! INT. SALIERI'S APARTMENT - BEDROOM - DAY - 1780'S The young Salieri is kneeling in desperation before the Cross. SALIERI Please! Please! Send him away, back to Salzburg. For his sake as well as mine. CU, Christ staring from the Cross. CUT BACK TO: INT. AUDIENCE HALL - ARCHBISHOP'S PALACE - SALZBURG - DAY - 1780'S We see Leopold kneeling now not to the Cross but to Archbishop Colloredo, sitting impassively on his throne. Count Arco stands beside him. Leopold is a desperate, once-handsome man of sixty, now far too much the subservient courtier. COLLOREDO No! I won't have him back. LEOPOLD But he needs to be here in Salzburg, Your Grace. He needs me and he needs you. Your protection, your understanding. COLLOREDO Hardly. LEOPOLD Oh sir, yes! He's about to make the worst mistake of his life. Some little Viennese slut is trying to trick him into marriage. I know my son. He is too simple to see the trap - and there is no one there who really cares for him. COLLOREDO I'm not surprised. Money seems to be more important to him than loyalty or friendship. He has sold himself to Vienna. Let Vienna look out for him. LEOPOLD Sir - COLLOREDO Your son is an unprincipled, spoiled, conceited brat. LEOPOLD Yes, sir, that's the truth. But don't blame him. The fault is mine. I was too indulgent with him. But not again. Never again, I promise! I implore you - let me bring him back here. I'll make him give his word to serve you faithfully. COLLOREDO And how will you make him keep it? LEOPOLD Oh, sir, he's never disobeyed me in anything. Please, Your Grace, give him one more chance. COLLOREDO You have leave to try. LEOPOLD Oh, Your Grace - I thank Your Grace! I thank you! In deepest gratitude he kisses the Archbishop's hand. He motions Leopold to rise. We hear the first dark fortissimo chord which begins the Overture to Don Giovanni: the theme associated with the character of the Commendatore. LEOPOLD (V.O.) My dear son. The second fortissimo chord sounds. INT. A BAROQUE CHURCH - DAY - 1780'S We see a huge CU, of Mozart's head, looking front and down, as if reading his father's letter. We hear Leopold's voice over this image, no longer whining and anxious, but impressive. LEOPOLD (V.O.) I write to you with urgent news. I am coming to Vienna. Take no further steps toward marriage until we meet. You are too gullible to see your own danger. As you honour the father who has devoted his entire life to yours, do as I bid, and await my coming. MOZART I will. The camera pulls back to see that he is in fact kneeling beside Constanze. A PRIEST faces them. Behind them are Madame Weber, Josefa and Sophie Weber, and a very few others. Among them, a merry looking lady in bright clothes: the BARONESS WALDSTADTEN. PRIEST And will you, Constanze Weber, take this man, Wolfgang to be your lawful husband? CONSTANZE I will. PRIEST I now pronounce you man and wife. The opening kyrie of the great Mass in C Minor is heard. Mozart and Constanze kiss. They are in tears. Madame Weber and her daughters look on approvingly. The music swells and continues under the following: INT. A ROOM IN LEOPOLD'S HOUSE - SALZBURG - NIGHT - 1780'S There is a view of a castle in background. Leopold sits alone in his room. He is reading a letter from Wolfgang. At his feet are his trunks, half-packed for the journey he will not now take. We hear Mozart's voice reading the following letter and we see, as the camera roves around the room, mementos of the young prodigy's early life: the little forte-piano made for him; the little violin made for him; an Order presented to him. We see a little starling in a wicker cage. And we see portraits of the boy on the walls, concluding with the familiar family portrait of Wolfgang and his sister Nannerl seated at the keyboard with Leopold standing, and the picture of their mother on the wall behind them. MOZART (V.O.) Most beloved father, it is done. Do not blame me that I did not wait to see your dear face. I knew you would have tried to dissuade me from my truest happiness and I could not have borne it. Your every word is precious to me. Remember how you have always told me Vienna is the City of Musicians. To conquer here is to conquer Europe! With my wife I can do it. I vow I will become regular in my habits and productive as never before. She is wonderful, Papa, and I know that you will love her. And one day soon when I am a wealthy man, you will come and live with us, and we will be so happy. I long for that day, best of Papas, and kiss your hand a hundred thousand times. The music of the Mass fades as Leopold crumples the letter in his hand. EXT. THE IMPERIAL GARDENS - VIENNA - DAY - 1780'S Salieri stands waiting, hat in hand. Beside him stands a royal servant. Behind him, gardeners are glimpsed tending the shrubs and bushes along a grassy ride. Down this ride are seen cantering two people on horseback: the Emperor Joseph and his niece, the PRINCESS ELIZABETH. They are mounted on glossy horses. The Princess rides side-saddle. Running beside her is a panting groom. The Emperor rides elegantly; his niece, a dumpy little Hapsburg girl of sixteen, like a sack of potatoes. As they draw level with Salieri they stop, and the groom holds the head of the Princess' horse. Salieri bows respectfully. JOSEPH Good morning, Court Composer. This is my niece, the Princess Elizabeth. SALIERI Your Highness. Out of breath, the Princess nods nervously. JOSEPH She has asked me to advise her on a suitable musical instructor. I think I've come up with an excellent idea. He smiles at Salieri. SALIERI Oh, Your Majesty, it would be such a tremendous honour! JOSEPH I'm thinking about Herr Mozart. What is your view? Salieri's face falls, almost imperceptibly. SALIERI An interesting idea, Majesty. But - JOSEPH Yes? SALIERI You already commissioned an opera from Mozart. JOSEPH And the result satisfies. SALIERI Yes, of course. My concern is to protect you from any suspicion of favouritism. JOSEPH Ah-ha. Favouritism. But I so want Mozart. SALIERI I'm sure there is a way, Majesty. Some kind of a little contest. I could perhaps put together a small Committee, and I could see to it naturally that it will select according to Your Majesty's wishes. JOSEPH You please me, Court Composer. A very clever idea. SALIERI (bowing) Sire. JOSEPH Well. There it is. He rides on. The groom releases her horse's head, and runs on after the Princess. CUT TO: INT. CHAMBERLAIN VON STRACK'S STUDY - DAY - 1780'S Von Strack sits stiffly behind his gilded desk. Mozart stands before him, trembling with anger. MOZART What is this, Herr Chamberlain? VON STRACK What is what? MOZART Why do I have to submit samples of my work to some stupid committee? Just to teach a sixteen-year-old girl. VON STRACK Because His Majesty wishes it. MOZART Is the Emperor angry with me? VON STRACK On the contrary. MOZART Then why doesn't he simply appoint me to the post? VON STRACK Mozart, you are not the only composer in Vienna. MOZART No, but I'm the best. VON STRACK A little modesty would suit you better. MOZART Who is on this committee? VON STRACK Kapellmeister Bonno, Count Orsini- Rosenberg and Court Composer Salieri. MOZART Naturally, the Italians! Of course! Always the Italians! VON STRACK Mozart - MOZART They hate my music. It terrifies them. The only sound Italians understand is banality. Tonic and dominant, tonic and dominant, from here to Resurrection! (singing angrily) Ba-ba! Ba-ba! Ba-ba! Ba-ba! Anything else is morbid. VON STRACK Mozart - MOZART Show them one interesting modulation and they faint. Ohime! Morbidezza! Morbidezza! Italians are musical idiots and you want them to judge my music! VON STRACK Look, young man, the issue is simple. If you want this post, you must submit your stuff in the same way as all your colleagues. MOZART Must I? Well, I won't! I tell you straight: I will not! CUT TO: INT. MOZART'S APARTMENT - BEDROOM - VIENNA - DAY - 1780'S The room is very small and untidy. Constanze is marching up and down it, upset. Mozart is lying on the bed. CONSTANZE I think you're mad! You're really mad! MOZART Oh, leave me alone. CONSTANZE One royal pupil and the whole of Vienna will come flocking. We'd be set up for life! MOZART They'll come anyway. They love me here. CONSTANZE No, they will not. I know how things work in this city. MOZART Oh yes? You always know everything. CONSTANZE Well, I'm not borrowing any more money from my mother, and that's that! MOZART You borrowed money from your mother? CONSTANZE Yes! MOZART Well, don't do that again! CONSTANZE How are we going to live, Wolfi? Do you want me to go into the streets and beg? MOZART Don't be stupid. CONSTANZE All they want to see is your work. What's wrong with that? MOZART Shut up! Just shut up! I don't need them. CONSTANZE This isn't pride. It's sheer stupidity! She glares at him, almost in tears. CUT TO: INT. SALIERI'S MUSIC ROOM - LATE AFTERNOON - 1780'S Salieri is giving a lesson to a girl student, who is singing the Italian art song, Caro Mio Ben. There is a knock on the door. SALIERI Yes. A SERVANT enters. SERVANT Excuse me, sir, there is a lady who insists on talking to you. SALIERI Who is she? SERVANT She didn't say. But she says it's urgent. SALIERI (to the pupil) Excuse me, my dear. Salieri goes into the salon. CUT TO: INT. THE SALON - LATE AFTERNOON - 1780'S Constanze stands, closely veiled, holding a portfolio stuffed with manuscripts. The singing lesson ends, with two chords on the instrument. Salieri enters the salon. Constanze drops him a shy curtsey. CONSTANZE Excellency! SALIERI Madame. How can I help you? Shyly, she unveils. SALIERI Frau Mozart? CONSTANZE That's right, Your Excellency. I've come on behalf of my hus band. I'm - I'm bringing some samples of his work so he can be considered for the royal appointment. SALIERI How charming. But why did he not come himself? CONSTANZE He's terribly busy, sir. SALIERI I understand. He takes the portfolio and puts it on a table. SALIERI I will look at them, of course, the moment I can. It will be an honour. Please give him my warmest. CONSTANZE Would it be too much trouble, sir, to ask you to look at them now? While I wait. SALIERI I'm afraid I'm not at leisure this very moment. Just leave them with me. I assure you they will be quite safe. CONSTANZE I - I really cannot do that, Your Excellency. You see, he doesn't know I'm here. SALIERI Really? CONSTANZE My husband is a proud man, sir. He would be furious if he knew I'd come. SALIERI Then he didn't send you? CONSTANZE No, sir. This is my own idea. SALIERI I see. CONSTANZE Sir, we really need this job. We're desperate. My husband spends far more than he can ever earn. I don't mean he's lazy - he's not at all - he works all day long. It's just! he's not practical. Money simply slips through his fingers, it's really ridiculous, Your Excellency. I know you help musicians. You're famous for it. Give him just this one post. We'd be forever indebted! A short pause. SALIERI Let me offer you some refreshment. Do you know what these are? He indicates a dish piled high with glazed chestnuts. SALIERI Cappezzoli di Venere. Nipples of Venus. Roman chestnuts in brandied sugar. Won't you try one? They're quite surprising. He offers her the dish. She takes one and puts it in her mouth. He watches carefully. CONSTANZE Oh! They're wonderful. He takes one himself. We notice on his finger a heavy gold signet-ring. CONSTANZE Thank you very much, Your Excellency. SALIERI Don't keep calling me that. It puts me at such a distance. I was not born a Court Composer, you know. I'm from a small town, just like your husband. He smiles at her. She takes another chestnut. SALIERI Are you sure you can't leave that music, and come back again? I have other things you might like. CONSTANZE That's very tempting, but it's impossible, I'm afraid. Wolfi would be frantic if he found those were missing. You see, they're all originals. SALIERI Originals? CONSTANZE Yes. A pause. He puts out his hand and takes up the portfolio from the table. He opens it. He looks at the music. He is puzzled. SALIERI These are originals? CONSTANZE Yes, sir. He doesn't make copies. CUT TO: INT. OLD SALIERI'S HOSPITAL ROOM - NIGHT - 1823 The old man faces the Priest. OLD SALIERI Astounding! It was actually beyond belief. These were first and only drafts of music yet they showed no corrections of any kind. Not one. Do you realize what that meant? Vogler stares at him. OLD SALIERI He'd simply put down music already finished in his head. Page after page of it, as if he was just taking dictation. And music finished as no music is ever finished. INT. SALIERI'S SALON - LATE AFTERNOON - 1780'S CU, The manuscript in Mozart's handwriting. The music begins to sound under the following: OLD SALIERI (V.O.) Displace one note and there would be diminishment. Displace one phrase, and the structure would fall. It was clear to me. That sound I had heard in the Archbishop's palace had been no accident. Here again was the very voice of God! I was staring through the cage of those meticulous ink- strokes at an absolute, inimitable beauty. The music swells. What we now hear is an amazing collage of great passages from Mozart's music, ravishing to Salieri and to us. The Court Composer, oblivious to Constanze, who sits happily chewing chestnuts, her mouth covered in sugar, walks around and around his salon, reading the pages and dropping them on the floor when he is done with them. We see his agonized and wondering face: he shudders as if in a rough and tumbling sea; he experiences the point where beauty and great pain coalesce. More pages fall than he can read, scattering across the floor in a white cascade, as he circles the room. Finally, we hear the tremendous Qui Tollis from the Mass in C Minor. It seems to break over him like a wave and, unable to bear any more of it, he slams the portfolio shut. Instantly, the music breaks off, reverberating in his head. He stands shaking, staring wildly. Constanze gets up, perplexed. CONSTANZE Is it no good? A pause. SALIERI It is miraculous. CONSTANZE Oh yes. He's really proud of his work. Another pause. CONSTANZE So, will you help him? Salieri tries to recover himself. SALIERI Tomorrow night I dine with the Emperor. One word from me and the post is his. CONSTANZE Oh, thank you, sir! Overjoyed, she stops and kisses his hand. He raises her - and then clasps her to him clumsily. She pushes herself away. SALIERI Come back tonight. CONSTANZE Tonight? SALIERI Alone. CONSTANZE What for? SALIERI Some service deserves service in return. No? CONSTANZE What do you mean? SALIERI Isn't it obvious? They stare at one another: Constanze in total disbelief. SALIERI It's a post all Vienna seeks. If you want it for your husband, come tonight. CONSTANZE But! I'm a married woman! SALIERI Then don't. It's up to you. Not to be vague, that is the price. He glares at her. SALIERI Yes. He rings a silver bell for a servant and abruptly leaves the roam. Constanze stares after him, horrified. The servant enters. Shocked and stunned, Constanze goes down an her knees and starts picking up the music from the floor. CUT TO: INT. OLD SALIERI'S HOSPITAL ROOM - NIGHT - 1823 CU, Father Vogler, horrified. OLD SALIERI Yes, Father. Yes! So much for my vow of chastity. What did it matter? Good, patient, hard-working, chaste - what did it matter? Had goodness made me a good composer? I realized it absolutely then - that moment: goodness is nothing in the furnace of art. And I was nothing to God. VOGLER (crying out) You cannot say that! OLD SALIERI No? Was Mozart a good man? VOGLER God's ways are not yours. And you are not here to question Him. Offer him the salt of penitence. He will give you back the bread of eternal life. He is all merciful. That is all you need to know. OLD SALIERI All I ever wanted was to sing to Him. That's His doing, isn't it? He gave me that longing - then made me mute. Why? Tell me that. If He didn't want me to serve Him with music, why implant the desire, like a lust in my body, then deny me the talent? Go on, tell me! Speak for Him! VOGLER My son, no one can speak for God. OLD SALIERI Oh? I thought you did so every day. So speak now. Answer me! VOGLER I do not claim to unravel the mysteries. I treasure them. As you should. OLD SALIERI (impatiently) Oh yes, yes, yes, yes, yes! Always the same stale answers! (intimately to the priest) There is no God of Mercy, Father. Just a God of torture. CUT TO: INT. SALIERI'S APARTMENT - BEDROOM - NIGHT - 1780'S Salieri sits at his desk, staring up at the cross. OLD SALIERI (V.O.) Evening came to that room. I sat there not knowing whether the girl would return or not. I prayed as I'd never prayed before. SALIERI Dear God, enter me now. Fill me with one piece of true music. One piece with your breath in it, so I know that you love me. Please. Just one. Show me one sign of your favour, and I will show mine to Mozart and his wife. I will get him the royal position, and if she comes, I'll receive her with all respect and send her home in joy. Enter me! Enter me! Please! Te imploro. Long, long silence. Salieri stares at the cross. Christ stares back at him impassively. Finally in this silence we hear a faint knocking at the door. Salieri stirs himself. A servant appears. SERVANT That lady is back, sir. SALIERI Show her in. Then go to bed. The Servant bows and leaves. We follow him through: INT. MUSIC ROOM IN SALIERI'S APARTMENT - NIGHT - 1780'S The Servant crosses it and enters: INT. SALON IN SALIERI'S APARTMENT - NIGHT - 1780'S Constanze is sitting on an upright chair, veiled as before, the portfolio of music on her lap. Through the far door leading from the hall, another servant is peering at her. The first servant joins him and shuts the door on the girl, leaving her alone. We stay with her. The clock ticks on the mantelpiece. We hear an old carriage pass in the street below. Nervously she lifts her veil and looks about her. Suddenly Salieri appears from the music room. He is pale and very tight. They regard each other. She smiles and rises to greet him, affecting a relaxed and warm manner, as if to put him at his ease. CONSTANZE Well, I'm here. My husband has gone to a concert. He didn't think I would enjoy it. A pause. CONSTANZE I do apologize for this afternoon. I behaved like a silly girl. Where shall we go? SALIERI What? CONSTANZE Should we stay here? It's a charming room. I love these candlesticks. Were they here earlier? I didn't notice them I suppose I was too nervous. As she talks, she extinguishes the candles in a pair of Venetian candelabra and subsequently other candles around the room. CONSTANZE Wolfgang was given some candlesticks by King George in England, but they were only wood. Oh, excuse me. Let's not talk about him. What do you think of this? It's real lace. Brussels. She turns and takes off her shawl. CONSTANZE Well, it's much too good for every day. I keep saying to Wolfi, don't be so extravagant. Presents are lovely, but we can't afford them. It doesn't do any good. The more I tell him, the more he spends. Oh, excuse me! There I go again. She picks up the portfolio. CONSTANZE Do you still want to look at this? Or don't we need to bother anymore? I imagine we don't, really. She looks at him inquiringly, and drops the portfolio on the floor; pages of music pour out of it. Instantly we hear a massive chord, and the great Qui Tollis from the Mass in C Minor fills the room. To its grand and weighty sound, Constanze starts to undress, watched by the horrified Salieri. Between him and her, music is an active presence, hurting and baffling him. He opens his mouth in distress. The music pounds in his head. The candle flickers over her as she removes her clothes and prepares for his embrace. Suddenly he cries out. SALIERI Go! Go! Go! He snatches up the bell and shakes it frantically, not stopping until the two servants we saw earlier appear at the door. The music stops abruptly. They stare at the appalled and frightened Constanze, who is desperately trying to cover her nakedness. SALIERI Show this woman out! Constanze hurls herself at him. CONSTANZE You shit! You shit! You rotten shit! He seizes her wrists and thrusts her back. Then he leaves the room quickly, slamming the door behind him. Constanze turns and sees the two servants goggling at her in the room. CONSTANZE What are you staring at? Wildly, she picks up the candelabrum and throws it at them. It shatters on the floor. INT. SALIERI'S APARTMENT - BEDROOM - NIGHT - 1780'S CU, Salieri standing, his eyes shut, shaking in distress. He opens them and sees Christ across the room, staring at him from the wall. OLD SALIERI (V.O.) From now on, we are enemies, You and I! CUT TO: INT. OLD SALIERI'S HOSPITAL ROOM - NIGHT - 1823 The old man is reliving the experience. Vogler looks at him, horrified. OLD SALIERI Because You will not enter me, with all my need for you; because You scorn my attempts at virtue; because You choose for Your instrument a boastful, lustful, smutty infantile boy and give me for reward only the ability to recognize the Incarnation; because You are unjust, unfair, unkind, I will block You! I swear it! I will hinder and harm Your creature on earth as far as I am able. I will ruin Your Incarnation. CUT BACK TO: INT. SALIERI'S APARTMENT - BEDROOM - NIGHT - 1780'S CU, the fireplace. In it lies the olivewood Christ on the cross, burning. OLD SALIERI (V.O.) What use after all is Man, if not to teach God His lessons? The cross flames up and disintegrates. Salieri stares at it. CUT TO: INT. MOZART'S APARTMENT - LIVING ROOM - NIGHT - 1780'S The front door bursts open. Mozart stumbles in, followed by EMMANUEL SCHIKANEDER, three young actresses, and another man, all fairly drunk. Schikaneder (who appears everywhere accompanied by young girls) is a large, fleshy, extravagant man of about thirty-five. MOZART Stanzi! Stanzi! Stanzi-Manzi! The others laugh. MOZART Sssh! SCHIKANEDER (imitating Mozart) Stanzi-Manzi-Banzi-Wanzi! MOZART Sssh! Stay here. He walks unsteadily to the bedroom door and opens it. SCHIKANEDER (to the girls, very tipsy) Sssh! You're dishgrashful! INT. MOZART'S APARTMENT - BEDROOM - NIGHT - 1780'S Constanze lies in bed, her back turned to her husband, who comes into the room and shuts the door. MOZART (playfully) Stanzi? How's my mouse? Mouse-wouse? I'm back - puss-wuss is back! She turns around abruptly. She looks dreadful; her eyes red with weeping. Mozart is shocked. MOZART Stanzi! He approaches the bed and sits on it. Immediately she starts crying again, desperately. MOZART What's the matter? What is it? Stanzi! He holds her and she clings to him in a fierce embrace, crying a flood of tears. MOZART Stop it now. Stop it. I've brought some friends to meet you. They're next door waiting. Do we have anything to eat? They're all starving. CONSTANZE Tell them to go away. I don't want to see anybody. MOZART What's the matter with you? CONSTANZE Tell them to go! MOZART Sssh. What is it? Tell me. CONSTANZE No! MOZART Yes! CONSTANZE I love you! I love you! She starts crying again, throwing her arms around his neck. CONSTANZE I love you. Please stay with me. I'm frightened. INT. THE ROYAL PALACE - DINING ROOM - DAY - 1780'S Joseph sits eating. A butler serves him goat's milk to drink. Joseph is holding a memorandum from Salieri in his hand. Salieri stands before him. JOSEPH I don't think you understand me, Court Composer. SALIERI Majesty, I did. Believe me, it was a most agonizing. decision. But finally, I simply could not recommend Herr Mozart. JOSEPH Why not? SALIERI Well, Sire, I made some inquiries in a routine way. I was curious to know why he had so few pupils. It is rather alarming. JOSEPH Oh? With a gesture Joseph dismisses the butler, who bows and leaves the room. SALIERI Majesty, I don't like to talk against a fellow musician. JOSEPH Of course not. SALIERI I have to tell you, Mozart is not entirely to be trusted alone with young ladies. JOSEPH Really? SALIERI As a matter of fact, one of my own pupils - a very young singer - told me she was - er - well! JOSEPH Yes? SALIERI Molested, Majesty. Twice, in the course of the same lesson. A pause. JOSEPH Ah-ha. Well. There it is. INT. SALIERI'S HOUSE - STAIRCASE - VIENNA - DAY - 1780'S Salieri has just returned from the palace and is coming up the staircase. He is met by his servant. SERVANT Sir, there is a Herr Mozart waiting for you in the salon. Salieri is plainly alarmed. SALIERI What does he want? SERVANT He didn't say, sir. I told him I didn't know when you would be back, but he insisted on waiting. SALIERI Come with me. And stay in the room. He mounts the stairs. INT. SALIERI'S APARTMENT - SALON - DAY - 1780'S Mozart is waiting for Salieri, holding a portfolio. Salieri approaches him nervously. Mozart stands not belligerently, but humbly. SALIERI Herr Mozart, what brings you here? MOZART Your Excellency, you requested some specimens of my work. Here they are. I don't have to tell you how much I need your help. I truly appreciate your looking at these. I have pressures on me - financial pressures. As you know, I'm a married man now. SALIERI So you are. How is your pretty wife? MOZART She is well. She is - well, actually, I'm about to become a father! She only told me last night. You are the first to know. SALIERI I'm flattered. And congratulations to you, of course. MOZART So you see, this post is very important to me right now. Salieri looks at him in distress. SALIERI Why didn't you come to me yesterday, Mozart? This is a most painful situation. Yesterday I could have helped you. Today, I can't. MOZART Why? Here is the music. It's here. I am submitting it humbly. Isn't that what you wanted? SALIERI I have just come from the palace. The post has been filled. MOZART Filled? That's impossible! They haven't even seen my work. I need this post. Please, can't you help me? Please! SALIERI My dear Mozart, there is no one in the world I would rather help, but now it is too late. MOZART Whom did they choose? SALIERI Herr Sommer. MOZART Sommer? Herr Sommer? But the man's a fool! He's a total mediocrity. SALIERI No, no, no: he has yet to achieve mediocrity. MOZART But I can't lose this post, I simply can't! Excellency, please. Let's go to the palace, and you can explain to the Emperor that Herr Sommer is an awful choice. He could actually do musical harm to the Princess! SALIERI An implausible idea. Between you and me, no one in the world could do musical harm to the Princess Elizabeth. Mozart chuckles delightedly. Salieri offers him a glass of white dessert and a spoon. Mozart takes it absently and goes on talking. MOZART Look, I must have pupils. Without pupils I can't manage. SALIERI You don't mean to tell me you are living in poverty? MOZART No, but I'm broke. I'm always broke. I don't know why. SALIERI It has been said, my friend, that you are inclined to live somewhat above your means. MOZART How can anyone say that? We have no cook, no maid. We have no footman. Nothing at all! SALIERI How is that possible? You give concerts, don't you? I hear they are quite successful. MOZART They're stupendously successful. You can't get a seat. The only problem is none will hire me. They all want to hear me play, but they won't let me teach their daughters. As if I was some kind of fiend. I'm not a fiend! SALIERI Of course not. MOZART Do you have a daughter? SALIERI I'm afraid not. MOZART Well, could you lend me some money till you have one?

violent

How many times the word 'violent' appears in the text?

All the same, why him? Why use Mozart to teach me lessons in humility? My heart was filling up with such hatred for that little man. For the first time in my life I began to know really violent thoughts. I couldn't stop them. VOGLER Did you try? OLD SALIERI Every day. Sometimes for hours I would pray! INT. SALIERI'S APARTMENT - BEDROOM - DAY - 1780'S The young Salieri is kneeling in desperation before the Cross. SALIERI Please! Please! Send him away, back to Salzburg. For his sake as well as mine. CU, Christ staring from the Cross. CUT BACK TO: INT. AUDIENCE HALL - ARCHBISHOP'S PALACE - SALZBURG - DAY - 1780'S We see Leopold kneeling now not to the Cross but to Archbishop Colloredo, sitting impassively on his throne. Count Arco stands beside him. Leopold is a desperate, once-handsome man of sixty, now far too much the subservient courtier. COLLOREDO No! I won't have him back. LEOPOLD But he needs to be here in Salzburg, Your Grace. He needs me and he needs you. Your protection, your understanding. COLLOREDO Hardly. LEOPOLD Oh sir, yes! He's about to make the worst mistake of his life. Some little Viennese slut is trying to trick him into marriage. I know my son. He is too simple to see the trap - and there is no one there who really cares for him. COLLOREDO I'm not surprised. Money seems to be more important to him than loyalty or friendship. He has sold himself to Vienna. Let Vienna look out for him. LEOPOLD Sir - COLLOREDO Your son is an unprincipled, spoiled, conceited brat. LEOPOLD Yes, sir, that's the truth. But don't blame him. The fault is mine. I was too indulgent with him. But not again. Never again, I promise! I implore you - let me bring him back here. I'll make him give his word to serve you faithfully. COLLOREDO And how will you make him keep it? LEOPOLD Oh, sir, he's never disobeyed me in anything. Please, Your Grace, give him one more chance. COLLOREDO You have leave to try. LEOPOLD Oh, Your Grace - I thank Your Grace! I thank you! In deepest gratitude he kisses the Archbishop's hand. He motions Leopold to rise. We hear the first dark fortissimo chord which begins the Overture to Don Giovanni: the theme associated with the character of the Commendatore. LEOPOLD (V.O.) My dear son. The second fortissimo chord sounds. INT. A BAROQUE CHURCH - DAY - 1780'S We see a huge CU, of Mozart's head, looking front and down, as if reading his father's letter. We hear Leopold's voice over this image, no longer whining and anxious, but impressive. LEOPOLD (V.O.) I write to you with urgent news. I am coming to Vienna. Take no further steps toward marriage until we meet. You are too gullible to see your own danger. As you honour the father who has devoted his entire life to yours, do as I bid, and await my coming. MOZART I will. The camera pulls back to see that he is in fact kneeling beside Constanze. A PRIEST faces them. Behind them are Madame Weber, Josefa and Sophie Weber, and a very few others. Among them, a merry looking lady in bright clothes: the BARONESS WALDSTADTEN. PRIEST And will you, Constanze Weber, take this man, Wolfgang to be your lawful husband? CONSTANZE I will. PRIEST I now pronounce you man and wife. The opening kyrie of the great Mass in C Minor is heard. Mozart and Constanze kiss. They are in tears. Madame Weber and her daughters look on approvingly. The music swells and continues under the following: INT. A ROOM IN LEOPOLD'S HOUSE - SALZBURG - NIGHT - 1780'S There is a view of a castle in background. Leopold sits alone in his room. He is reading a letter from Wolfgang. At his feet are his trunks, half-packed for the journey he will not now take. We hear Mozart's voice reading the following letter and we see, as the camera roves around the room, mementos of the young prodigy's early life: the little forte-piano made for him; the little violin made for him; an Order presented to him. We see a little starling in a wicker cage. And we see portraits of the boy on the walls, concluding with the familiar family portrait of Wolfgang and his sister Nannerl seated at the keyboard with Leopold standing, and the picture of their mother on the wall behind them. MOZART (V.O.) Most beloved father, it is done. Do not blame me that I did not wait to see your dear face. I knew you would have tried to dissuade me from my truest happiness and I could not have borne it. Your every word is precious to me. Remember how you have always told me Vienna is the City of Musicians. To conquer here is to conquer Europe! With my wife I can do it. I vow I will become regular in my habits and productive as never before. She is wonderful, Papa, and I know that you will love her. And one day soon when I am a wealthy man, you will come and live with us, and we will be so happy. I long for that day, best of Papas, and kiss your hand a hundred thousand times. The music of the Mass fades as Leopold crumples the letter in his hand. EXT. THE IMPERIAL GARDENS - VIENNA - DAY - 1780'S Salieri stands waiting, hat in hand. Beside him stands a royal servant. Behind him, gardeners are glimpsed tending the shrubs and bushes along a grassy ride. Down this ride are seen cantering two people on horseback: the Emperor Joseph and his niece, the PRINCESS ELIZABETH. They are mounted on glossy horses. The Princess rides side-saddle. Running beside her is a panting groom. The Emperor rides elegantly; his niece, a dumpy little Hapsburg girl of sixteen, like a sack of potatoes. As they draw level with Salieri they stop, and the groom holds the head of the Princess' horse. Salieri bows respectfully. JOSEPH Good morning, Court Composer. This is my niece, the Princess Elizabeth. SALIERI Your Highness. Out of breath, the Princess nods nervously. JOSEPH She has asked me to advise her on a suitable musical instructor. I think I've come up with an excellent idea. He smiles at Salieri. SALIERI Oh, Your Majesty, it would be such a tremendous honour! JOSEPH I'm thinking about Herr Mozart. What is your view? Salieri's face falls, almost imperceptibly. SALIERI An interesting idea, Majesty. But - JOSEPH Yes? SALIERI You already commissioned an opera from Mozart. JOSEPH And the result satisfies. SALIERI Yes, of course. My concern is to protect you from any suspicion of favouritism. JOSEPH Ah-ha. Favouritism. But I so want Mozart. SALIERI I'm sure there is a way, Majesty. Some kind of a little contest. I could perhaps put together a small Committee, and I could see to it naturally that it will select according to Your Majesty's wishes. JOSEPH You please me, Court Composer. A very clever idea. SALIERI (bowing) Sire. JOSEPH Well. There it is. He rides on. The groom releases her horse's head, and runs on after the Princess. CUT TO: INT. CHAMBERLAIN VON STRACK'S STUDY - DAY - 1780'S Von Strack sits stiffly behind his gilded desk. Mozart stands before him, trembling with anger. MOZART What is this, Herr Chamberlain? VON STRACK What is what? MOZART Why do I have to submit samples of my work to some stupid committee? Just to teach a sixteen-year-old girl. VON STRACK Because His Majesty wishes it. MOZART Is the Emperor angry with me? VON STRACK On the contrary. MOZART Then why doesn't he simply appoint me to the post? VON STRACK Mozart, you are not the only composer in Vienna. MOZART No, but I'm the best. VON STRACK A little modesty would suit you better. MOZART Who is on this committee? VON STRACK Kapellmeister Bonno, Count Orsini- Rosenberg and Court Composer Salieri. MOZART Naturally, the Italians! Of course! Always the Italians! VON STRACK Mozart - MOZART They hate my music. It terrifies them. The only sound Italians understand is banality. Tonic and dominant, tonic and dominant, from here to Resurrection! (singing angrily) Ba-ba! Ba-ba! Ba-ba! Ba-ba! Anything else is morbid. VON STRACK Mozart - MOZART Show them one interesting modulation and they faint. Ohime! Morbidezza! Morbidezza! Italians are musical idiots and you want them to judge my music! VON STRACK Look, young man, the issue is simple. If you want this post, you must submit your stuff in the same way as all your colleagues. MOZART Must I? Well, I won't! I tell you straight: I will not! CUT TO: INT. MOZART'S APARTMENT - BEDROOM - VIENNA - DAY - 1780'S The room is very small and untidy. Constanze is marching up and down it, upset. Mozart is lying on the bed. CONSTANZE I think you're mad! You're really mad! MOZART Oh, leave me alone. CONSTANZE One royal pupil and the whole of Vienna will come flocking. We'd be set up for life! MOZART They'll come anyway. They love me here. CONSTANZE No, they will not. I know how things work in this city. MOZART Oh yes? You always know everything. CONSTANZE Well, I'm not borrowing any more money from my mother, and that's that! MOZART You borrowed money from your mother? CONSTANZE Yes! MOZART Well, don't do that again! CONSTANZE How are we going to live, Wolfi? Do you want me to go into the streets and beg? MOZART Don't be stupid. CONSTANZE All they want to see is your work. What's wrong with that? MOZART Shut up! Just shut up! I don't need them. CONSTANZE This isn't pride. It's sheer stupidity! She glares at him, almost in tears. CUT TO: INT. SALIERI'S MUSIC ROOM - LATE AFTERNOON - 1780'S Salieri is giving a lesson to a girl student, who is singing the Italian art song, Caro Mio Ben. There is a knock on the door. SALIERI Yes. A SERVANT enters. SERVANT Excuse me, sir, there is a lady who insists on talking to you. SALIERI Who is she? SERVANT She didn't say. But she says it's urgent. SALIERI (to the pupil) Excuse me, my dear. Salieri goes into the salon. CUT TO: INT. THE SALON - LATE AFTERNOON - 1780'S Constanze stands, closely veiled, holding a portfolio stuffed with manuscripts. The singing lesson ends, with two chords on the instrument. Salieri enters the salon. Constanze drops him a shy curtsey. CONSTANZE Excellency! SALIERI Madame. How can I help you? Shyly, she unveils. SALIERI Frau Mozart? CONSTANZE That's right, Your Excellency. I've come on behalf of my hus band. I'm - I'm bringing some samples of his work so he can be considered for the royal appointment. SALIERI How charming. But why did he not come himself? CONSTANZE He's terribly busy, sir. SALIERI I understand. He takes the portfolio and puts it on a table. SALIERI I will look at them, of course, the moment I can. It will be an honour. Please give him my warmest. CONSTANZE Would it be too much trouble, sir, to ask you to look at them now? While I wait. SALIERI I'm afraid I'm not at leisure this very moment. Just leave them with me. I assure you they will be quite safe. CONSTANZE I - I really cannot do that, Your Excellency. You see, he doesn't know I'm here. SALIERI Really? CONSTANZE My husband is a proud man, sir. He would be furious if he knew I'd come. SALIERI Then he didn't send you? CONSTANZE No, sir. This is my own idea. SALIERI I see. CONSTANZE Sir, we really need this job. We're desperate. My husband spends far more than he can ever earn. I don't mean he's lazy - he's not at all - he works all day long. It's just! he's not practical. Money simply slips through his fingers, it's really ridiculous, Your Excellency. I know you help musicians. You're famous for it. Give him just this one post. We'd be forever indebted! A short pause. SALIERI Let me offer you some refreshment. Do you know what these are? He indicates a dish piled high with glazed chestnuts. SALIERI Cappezzoli di Venere. Nipples of Venus. Roman chestnuts in brandied sugar. Won't you try one? They're quite surprising. He offers her the dish. She takes one and puts it in her mouth. He watches carefully. CONSTANZE Oh! They're wonderful. He takes one himself. We notice on his finger a heavy gold signet-ring. CONSTANZE Thank you very much, Your Excellency. SALIERI Don't keep calling me that. It puts me at such a distance. I was not born a Court Composer, you know. I'm from a small town, just like your husband. He smiles at her. She takes another chestnut. SALIERI Are you sure you can't leave that music, and come back again? I have other things you might like. CONSTANZE That's very tempting, but it's impossible, I'm afraid. Wolfi would be frantic if he found those were missing. You see, they're all originals. SALIERI Originals? CONSTANZE Yes. A pause. He puts out his hand and takes up the portfolio from the table. He opens it. He looks at the music. He is puzzled. SALIERI These are originals? CONSTANZE Yes, sir. He doesn't make copies. CUT TO: INT. OLD SALIERI'S HOSPITAL ROOM - NIGHT - 1823 The old man faces the Priest. OLD SALIERI Astounding! It was actually beyond belief. These were first and only drafts of music yet they showed no corrections of any kind. Not one. Do you realize what that meant? Vogler stares at him. OLD SALIERI He'd simply put down music already finished in his head. Page after page of it, as if he was just taking dictation. And music finished as no music is ever finished. INT. SALIERI'S SALON - LATE AFTERNOON - 1780'S CU, The manuscript in Mozart's handwriting. The music begins to sound under the following: OLD SALIERI (V.O.) Displace one note and there would be diminishment. Displace one phrase, and the structure would fall. It was clear to me. That sound I had heard in the Archbishop's palace had been no accident. Here again was the very voice of God! I was staring through the cage of those meticulous ink- strokes at an absolute, inimitable beauty. The music swells. What we now hear is an amazing collage of great passages from Mozart's music, ravishing to Salieri and to us. The Court Composer, oblivious to Constanze, who sits happily chewing chestnuts, her mouth covered in sugar, walks around and around his salon, reading the pages and dropping them on the floor when he is done with them. We see his agonized and wondering face: he shudders as if in a rough and tumbling sea; he experiences the point where beauty and great pain coalesce. More pages fall than he can read, scattering across the floor in a white cascade, as he circles the room. Finally, we hear the tremendous Qui Tollis from the Mass in C Minor. It seems to break over him like a wave and, unable to bear any more of it, he slams the portfolio shut. Instantly, the music breaks off, reverberating in his head. He stands shaking, staring wildly. Constanze gets up, perplexed. CONSTANZE Is it no good? A pause. SALIERI It is miraculous. CONSTANZE Oh yes. He's really proud of his work. Another pause. CONSTANZE So, will you help him? Salieri tries to recover himself. SALIERI Tomorrow night I dine with the Emperor. One word from me and the post is his. CONSTANZE Oh, thank you, sir! Overjoyed, she stops and kisses his hand. He raises her - and then clasps her to him clumsily. She pushes herself away. SALIERI Come back tonight. CONSTANZE Tonight? SALIERI Alone. CONSTANZE What for? SALIERI Some service deserves service in return. No? CONSTANZE What do you mean? SALIERI Isn't it obvious? They stare at one another: Constanze in total disbelief. SALIERI It's a post all Vienna seeks. If you want it for your husband, come tonight. CONSTANZE But! I'm a married woman! SALIERI Then don't. It's up to you. Not to be vague, that is the price. He glares at her. SALIERI Yes. He rings a silver bell for a servant and abruptly leaves the roam. Constanze stares after him, horrified. The servant enters. Shocked and stunned, Constanze goes down an her knees and starts picking up the music from the floor. CUT TO: INT. OLD SALIERI'S HOSPITAL ROOM - NIGHT - 1823 CU, Father Vogler, horrified. OLD SALIERI Yes, Father. Yes! So much for my vow of chastity. What did it matter? Good, patient, hard-working, chaste - what did it matter? Had goodness made me a good composer? I realized it absolutely then - that moment: goodness is nothing in the furnace of art. And I was nothing to God. VOGLER (crying out) You cannot say that! OLD SALIERI No? Was Mozart a good man? VOGLER God's ways are not yours. And you are not here to question Him. Offer him the salt of penitence. He will give you back the bread of eternal life. He is all merciful. That is all you need to know. OLD SALIERI All I ever wanted was to sing to Him. That's His doing, isn't it? He gave me that longing - then made me mute. Why? Tell me that. If He didn't want me to serve Him with music, why implant the desire, like a lust in my body, then deny me the talent? Go on, tell me! Speak for Him! VOGLER My son, no one can speak for God. OLD SALIERI Oh? I thought you did so every day. So speak now. Answer me! VOGLER I do not claim to unravel the mysteries. I treasure them. As you should. OLD SALIERI (impatiently) Oh yes, yes, yes, yes, yes! Always the same stale answers! (intimately to the priest) There is no God of Mercy, Father. Just a God of torture. CUT TO: INT. SALIERI'S APARTMENT - BEDROOM - NIGHT - 1780'S Salieri sits at his desk, staring up at the cross. OLD SALIERI (V.O.) Evening came to that room. I sat there not knowing whether the girl would return or not. I prayed as I'd never prayed before. SALIERI Dear God, enter me now. Fill me with one piece of true music. One piece with your breath in it, so I know that you love me. Please. Just one. Show me one sign of your favour, and I will show mine to Mozart and his wife. I will get him the royal position, and if she comes, I'll receive her with all respect and send her home in joy. Enter me! Enter me! Please! Te imploro. Long, long silence. Salieri stares at the cross. Christ stares back at him impassively. Finally in this silence we hear a faint knocking at the door. Salieri stirs himself. A servant appears. SERVANT That lady is back, sir. SALIERI Show her in. Then go to bed. The Servant bows and leaves. We follow him through: INT. MUSIC ROOM IN SALIERI'S APARTMENT - NIGHT - 1780'S The Servant crosses it and enters: INT. SALON IN SALIERI'S APARTMENT - NIGHT - 1780'S Constanze is sitting on an upright chair, veiled as before, the portfolio of music on her lap. Through the far door leading from the hall, another servant is peering at her. The first servant joins him and shuts the door on the girl, leaving her alone. We stay with her. The clock ticks on the mantelpiece. We hear an old carriage pass in the street below. Nervously she lifts her veil and looks about her. Suddenly Salieri appears from the music room. He is pale and very tight. They regard each other. She smiles and rises to greet him, affecting a relaxed and warm manner, as if to put him at his ease. CONSTANZE Well, I'm here. My husband has gone to a concert. He didn't think I would enjoy it. A pause. CONSTANZE I do apologize for this afternoon. I behaved like a silly girl. Where shall we go? SALIERI What? CONSTANZE Should we stay here? It's a charming room. I love these candlesticks. Were they here earlier? I didn't notice them I suppose I was too nervous. As she talks, she extinguishes the candles in a pair of Venetian candelabra and subsequently other candles around the room. CONSTANZE Wolfgang was given some candlesticks by King George in England, but they were only wood. Oh, excuse me. Let's not talk about him. What do you think of this? It's real lace. Brussels. She turns and takes off her shawl. CONSTANZE Well, it's much too good for every day. I keep saying to Wolfi, don't be so extravagant. Presents are lovely, but we can't afford them. It doesn't do any good. The more I tell him, the more he spends. Oh, excuse me! There I go again. She picks up the portfolio. CONSTANZE Do you still want to look at this? Or don't we need to bother anymore? I imagine we don't, really. She looks at him inquiringly, and drops the portfolio on the floor; pages of music pour out of it. Instantly we hear a massive chord, and the great Qui Tollis from the Mass in C Minor fills the room. To its grand and weighty sound, Constanze starts to undress, watched by the horrified Salieri. Between him and her, music is an active presence, hurting and baffling him. He opens his mouth in distress. The music pounds in his head. The candle flickers over her as she removes her clothes and prepares for his embrace. Suddenly he cries out. SALIERI Go! Go! Go! He snatches up the bell and shakes it frantically, not stopping until the two servants we saw earlier appear at the door. The music stops abruptly. They stare at the appalled and frightened Constanze, who is desperately trying to cover her nakedness. SALIERI Show this woman out! Constanze hurls herself at him. CONSTANZE You shit! You shit! You rotten shit! He seizes her wrists and thrusts her back. Then he leaves the room quickly, slamming the door behind him. Constanze turns and sees the two servants goggling at her in the room. CONSTANZE What are you staring at? Wildly, she picks up the candelabrum and throws it at them. It shatters on the floor. INT. SALIERI'S APARTMENT - BEDROOM - NIGHT - 1780'S CU, Salieri standing, his eyes shut, shaking in distress. He opens them and sees Christ across the room, staring at him from the wall. OLD SALIERI (V.O.) From now on, we are enemies, You and I! CUT TO: INT. OLD SALIERI'S HOSPITAL ROOM - NIGHT - 1823 The old man is reliving the experience. Vogler looks at him, horrified. OLD SALIERI Because You will not enter me, with all my need for you; because You scorn my attempts at virtue; because You choose for Your instrument a boastful, lustful, smutty infantile boy and give me for reward only the ability to recognize the Incarnation; because You are unjust, unfair, unkind, I will block You! I swear it! I will hinder and harm Your creature on earth as far as I am able. I will ruin Your Incarnation. CUT BACK TO: INT. SALIERI'S APARTMENT - BEDROOM - NIGHT - 1780'S CU, the fireplace. In it lies the olivewood Christ on the cross, burning. OLD SALIERI (V.O.) What use after all is Man, if not to teach God His lessons? The cross flames up and disintegrates. Salieri stares at it. CUT TO: INT. MOZART'S APARTMENT - LIVING ROOM - NIGHT - 1780'S The front door bursts open. Mozart stumbles in, followed by EMMANUEL SCHIKANEDER, three young actresses, and another man, all fairly drunk. Schikaneder (who appears everywhere accompanied by young girls) is a large, fleshy, extravagant man of about thirty-five. MOZART Stanzi! Stanzi! Stanzi-Manzi! The others laugh. MOZART Sssh! SCHIKANEDER (imitating Mozart) Stanzi-Manzi-Banzi-Wanzi! MOZART Sssh! Stay here. He walks unsteadily to the bedroom door and opens it. SCHIKANEDER (to the girls, very tipsy) Sssh! You're dishgrashful! INT. MOZART'S APARTMENT - BEDROOM - NIGHT - 1780'S Constanze lies in bed, her back turned to her husband, who comes into the room and shuts the door. MOZART (playfully) Stanzi? How's my mouse? Mouse-wouse? I'm back - puss-wuss is back! She turns around abruptly. She looks dreadful; her eyes red with weeping. Mozart is shocked. MOZART Stanzi! He approaches the bed and sits on it. Immediately she starts crying again, desperately. MOZART What's the matter? What is it? Stanzi! He holds her and she clings to him in a fierce embrace, crying a flood of tears. MOZART Stop it now. Stop it. I've brought some friends to meet you. They're next door waiting. Do we have anything to eat? They're all starving. CONSTANZE Tell them to go away. I don't want to see anybody. MOZART What's the matter with you? CONSTANZE Tell them to go! MOZART Sssh. What is it? Tell me. CONSTANZE No! MOZART Yes! CONSTANZE I love you! I love you! She starts crying again, throwing her arms around his neck. CONSTANZE I love you. Please stay with me. I'm frightened. INT. THE ROYAL PALACE - DINING ROOM - DAY - 1780'S Joseph sits eating. A butler serves him goat's milk to drink. Joseph is holding a memorandum from Salieri in his hand. Salieri stands before him. JOSEPH I don't think you understand me, Court Composer. SALIERI Majesty, I did. Believe me, it was a most agonizing. decision. But finally, I simply could not recommend Herr Mozart. JOSEPH Why not? SALIERI Well, Sire, I made some inquiries in a routine way. I was curious to know why he had so few pupils. It is rather alarming. JOSEPH Oh? With a gesture Joseph dismisses the butler, who bows and leaves the room. SALIERI Majesty, I don't like to talk against a fellow musician. JOSEPH Of course not. SALIERI I have to tell you, Mozart is not entirely to be trusted alone with young ladies. JOSEPH Really? SALIERI As a matter of fact, one of my own pupils - a very young singer - told me she was - er - well! JOSEPH Yes? SALIERI Molested, Majesty. Twice, in the course of the same lesson. A pause. JOSEPH Ah-ha. Well. There it is. INT. SALIERI'S HOUSE - STAIRCASE - VIENNA - DAY - 1780'S Salieri has just returned from the palace and is coming up the staircase. He is met by his servant. SERVANT Sir, there is a Herr Mozart waiting for you in the salon. Salieri is plainly alarmed. SALIERI What does he want? SERVANT He didn't say, sir. I told him I didn't know when you would be back, but he insisted on waiting. SALIERI Come with me. And stay in the room. He mounts the stairs. INT. SALIERI'S APARTMENT - SALON - DAY - 1780'S Mozart is waiting for Salieri, holding a portfolio. Salieri approaches him nervously. Mozart stands not belligerently, but humbly. SALIERI Herr Mozart, what brings you here? MOZART Your Excellency, you requested some specimens of my work. Here they are. I don't have to tell you how much I need your help. I truly appreciate your looking at these. I have pressures on me - financial pressures. As you know, I'm a married man now. SALIERI So you are. How is your pretty wife? MOZART She is well. She is - well, actually, I'm about to become a father! She only told me last night. You are the first to know. SALIERI I'm flattered. And congratulations to you, of course. MOZART So you see, this post is very important to me right now. Salieri looks at him in distress. SALIERI Why didn't you come to me yesterday, Mozart? This is a most painful situation. Yesterday I could have helped you. Today, I can't. MOZART Why? Here is the music. It's here. I am submitting it humbly. Isn't that what you wanted? SALIERI I have just come from the palace. The post has been filled. MOZART Filled? That's impossible! They haven't even seen my work. I need this post. Please, can't you help me? Please! SALIERI My dear Mozart, there is no one in the world I would rather help, but now it is too late. MOZART Whom did they choose? SALIERI Herr Sommer. MOZART Sommer? Herr Sommer? But the man's a fool! He's a total mediocrity. SALIERI No, no, no: he has yet to achieve mediocrity. MOZART But I can't lose this post, I simply can't! Excellency, please. Let's go to the palace, and you can explain to the Emperor that Herr Sommer is an awful choice. He could actually do musical harm to the Princess! SALIERI An implausible idea. Between you and me, no one in the world could do musical harm to the Princess Elizabeth. Mozart chuckles delightedly. Salieri offers him a glass of white dessert and a spoon. Mozart takes it absently and goes on talking. MOZART Look, I must have pupils. Without pupils I can't manage. SALIERI You don't mean to tell me you are living in poverty? MOZART No, but I'm broke. I'm always broke. I don't know why. SALIERI It has been said, my friend, that you are inclined to live somewhat above your means. MOZART How can anyone say that? We have no cook, no maid. We have no footman. Nothing at all! SALIERI How is that possible? You give concerts, don't you? I hear they are quite successful. MOZART They're stupendously successful. You can't get a seat. The only problem is none will hire me. They all want to hear me play, but they won't let me teach their daughters. As if I was some kind of fiend. I'm not a fiend! SALIERI Of course not. MOZART Do you have a daughter? SALIERI I'm afraid not. MOZART Well, could you lend me some money till you have one?

stupid

How many times the word 'stupid' appears in the text?

All the same, why him? Why use Mozart to teach me lessons in humility? My heart was filling up with such hatred for that little man. For the first time in my life I began to know really violent thoughts. I couldn't stop them. VOGLER Did you try? OLD SALIERI Every day. Sometimes for hours I would pray! INT. SALIERI'S APARTMENT - BEDROOM - DAY - 1780'S The young Salieri is kneeling in desperation before the Cross. SALIERI Please! Please! Send him away, back to Salzburg. For his sake as well as mine. CU, Christ staring from the Cross. CUT BACK TO: INT. AUDIENCE HALL - ARCHBISHOP'S PALACE - SALZBURG - DAY - 1780'S We see Leopold kneeling now not to the Cross but to Archbishop Colloredo, sitting impassively on his throne. Count Arco stands beside him. Leopold is a desperate, once-handsome man of sixty, now far too much the subservient courtier. COLLOREDO No! I won't have him back. LEOPOLD But he needs to be here in Salzburg, Your Grace. He needs me and he needs you. Your protection, your understanding. COLLOREDO Hardly. LEOPOLD Oh sir, yes! He's about to make the worst mistake of his life. Some little Viennese slut is trying to trick him into marriage. I know my son. He is too simple to see the trap - and there is no one there who really cares for him. COLLOREDO I'm not surprised. Money seems to be more important to him than loyalty or friendship. He has sold himself to Vienna. Let Vienna look out for him. LEOPOLD Sir - COLLOREDO Your son is an unprincipled, spoiled, conceited brat. LEOPOLD Yes, sir, that's the truth. But don't blame him. The fault is mine. I was too indulgent with him. But not again. Never again, I promise! I implore you - let me bring him back here. I'll make him give his word to serve you faithfully. COLLOREDO And how will you make him keep it? LEOPOLD Oh, sir, he's never disobeyed me in anything. Please, Your Grace, give him one more chance. COLLOREDO You have leave to try. LEOPOLD Oh, Your Grace - I thank Your Grace! I thank you! In deepest gratitude he kisses the Archbishop's hand. He motions Leopold to rise. We hear the first dark fortissimo chord which begins the Overture to Don Giovanni: the theme associated with the character of the Commendatore. LEOPOLD (V.O.) My dear son. The second fortissimo chord sounds. INT. A BAROQUE CHURCH - DAY - 1780'S We see a huge CU, of Mozart's head, looking front and down, as if reading his father's letter. We hear Leopold's voice over this image, no longer whining and anxious, but impressive. LEOPOLD (V.O.) I write to you with urgent news. I am coming to Vienna. Take no further steps toward marriage until we meet. You are too gullible to see your own danger. As you honour the father who has devoted his entire life to yours, do as I bid, and await my coming. MOZART I will. The camera pulls back to see that he is in fact kneeling beside Constanze. A PRIEST faces them. Behind them are Madame Weber, Josefa and Sophie Weber, and a very few others. Among them, a merry looking lady in bright clothes: the BARONESS WALDSTADTEN. PRIEST And will you, Constanze Weber, take this man, Wolfgang to be your lawful husband? CONSTANZE I will. PRIEST I now pronounce you man and wife. The opening kyrie of the great Mass in C Minor is heard. Mozart and Constanze kiss. They are in tears. Madame Weber and her daughters look on approvingly. The music swells and continues under the following: INT. A ROOM IN LEOPOLD'S HOUSE - SALZBURG - NIGHT - 1780'S There is a view of a castle in background. Leopold sits alone in his room. He is reading a letter from Wolfgang. At his feet are his trunks, half-packed for the journey he will not now take. We hear Mozart's voice reading the following letter and we see, as the camera roves around the room, mementos of the young prodigy's early life: the little forte-piano made for him; the little violin made for him; an Order presented to him. We see a little starling in a wicker cage. And we see portraits of the boy on the walls, concluding with the familiar family portrait of Wolfgang and his sister Nannerl seated at the keyboard with Leopold standing, and the picture of their mother on the wall behind them. MOZART (V.O.) Most beloved father, it is done. Do not blame me that I did not wait to see your dear face. I knew you would have tried to dissuade me from my truest happiness and I could not have borne it. Your every word is precious to me. Remember how you have always told me Vienna is the City of Musicians. To conquer here is to conquer Europe! With my wife I can do it. I vow I will become regular in my habits and productive as never before. She is wonderful, Papa, and I know that you will love her. And one day soon when I am a wealthy man, you will come and live with us, and we will be so happy. I long for that day, best of Papas, and kiss your hand a hundred thousand times. The music of the Mass fades as Leopold crumples the letter in his hand. EXT. THE IMPERIAL GARDENS - VIENNA - DAY - 1780'S Salieri stands waiting, hat in hand. Beside him stands a royal servant. Behind him, gardeners are glimpsed tending the shrubs and bushes along a grassy ride. Down this ride are seen cantering two people on horseback: the Emperor Joseph and his niece, the PRINCESS ELIZABETH. They are mounted on glossy horses. The Princess rides side-saddle. Running beside her is a panting groom. The Emperor rides elegantly; his niece, a dumpy little Hapsburg girl of sixteen, like a sack of potatoes. As they draw level with Salieri they stop, and the groom holds the head of the Princess' horse. Salieri bows respectfully. JOSEPH Good morning, Court Composer. This is my niece, the Princess Elizabeth. SALIERI Your Highness. Out of breath, the Princess nods nervously. JOSEPH She has asked me to advise her on a suitable musical instructor. I think I've come up with an excellent idea. He smiles at Salieri. SALIERI Oh, Your Majesty, it would be such a tremendous honour! JOSEPH I'm thinking about Herr Mozart. What is your view? Salieri's face falls, almost imperceptibly. SALIERI An interesting idea, Majesty. But - JOSEPH Yes? SALIERI You already commissioned an opera from Mozart. JOSEPH And the result satisfies. SALIERI Yes, of course. My concern is to protect you from any suspicion of favouritism. JOSEPH Ah-ha. Favouritism. But I so want Mozart. SALIERI I'm sure there is a way, Majesty. Some kind of a little contest. I could perhaps put together a small Committee, and I could see to it naturally that it will select according to Your Majesty's wishes. JOSEPH You please me, Court Composer. A very clever idea. SALIERI (bowing) Sire. JOSEPH Well. There it is. He rides on. The groom releases her horse's head, and runs on after the Princess. CUT TO: INT. CHAMBERLAIN VON STRACK'S STUDY - DAY - 1780'S Von Strack sits stiffly behind his gilded desk. Mozart stands before him, trembling with anger. MOZART What is this, Herr Chamberlain? VON STRACK What is what? MOZART Why do I have to submit samples of my work to some stupid committee? Just to teach a sixteen-year-old girl. VON STRACK Because His Majesty wishes it. MOZART Is the Emperor angry with me? VON STRACK On the contrary. MOZART Then why doesn't he simply appoint me to the post? VON STRACK Mozart, you are not the only composer in Vienna. MOZART No, but I'm the best. VON STRACK A little modesty would suit you better. MOZART Who is on this committee? VON STRACK Kapellmeister Bonno, Count Orsini- Rosenberg and Court Composer Salieri. MOZART Naturally, the Italians! Of course! Always the Italians! VON STRACK Mozart - MOZART They hate my music. It terrifies them. The only sound Italians understand is banality. Tonic and dominant, tonic and dominant, from here to Resurrection! (singing angrily) Ba-ba! Ba-ba! Ba-ba! Ba-ba! Anything else is morbid. VON STRACK Mozart - MOZART Show them one interesting modulation and they faint. Ohime! Morbidezza! Morbidezza! Italians are musical idiots and you want them to judge my music! VON STRACK Look, young man, the issue is simple. If you want this post, you must submit your stuff in the same way as all your colleagues. MOZART Must I? Well, I won't! I tell you straight: I will not! CUT TO: INT. MOZART'S APARTMENT - BEDROOM - VIENNA - DAY - 1780'S The room is very small and untidy. Constanze is marching up and down it, upset. Mozart is lying on the bed. CONSTANZE I think you're mad! You're really mad! MOZART Oh, leave me alone. CONSTANZE One royal pupil and the whole of Vienna will come flocking. We'd be set up for life! MOZART They'll come anyway. They love me here. CONSTANZE No, they will not. I know how things work in this city. MOZART Oh yes? You always know everything. CONSTANZE Well, I'm not borrowing any more money from my mother, and that's that! MOZART You borrowed money from your mother? CONSTANZE Yes! MOZART Well, don't do that again! CONSTANZE How are we going to live, Wolfi? Do you want me to go into the streets and beg? MOZART Don't be stupid. CONSTANZE All they want to see is your work. What's wrong with that? MOZART Shut up! Just shut up! I don't need them. CONSTANZE This isn't pride. It's sheer stupidity! She glares at him, almost in tears. CUT TO: INT. SALIERI'S MUSIC ROOM - LATE AFTERNOON - 1780'S Salieri is giving a lesson to a girl student, who is singing the Italian art song, Caro Mio Ben. There is a knock on the door. SALIERI Yes. A SERVANT enters. SERVANT Excuse me, sir, there is a lady who insists on talking to you. SALIERI Who is she? SERVANT She didn't say. But she says it's urgent. SALIERI (to the pupil) Excuse me, my dear. Salieri goes into the salon. CUT TO: INT. THE SALON - LATE AFTERNOON - 1780'S Constanze stands, closely veiled, holding a portfolio stuffed with manuscripts. The singing lesson ends, with two chords on the instrument. Salieri enters the salon. Constanze drops him a shy curtsey. CONSTANZE Excellency! SALIERI Madame. How can I help you? Shyly, she unveils. SALIERI Frau Mozart? CONSTANZE That's right, Your Excellency. I've come on behalf of my hus band. I'm - I'm bringing some samples of his work so he can be considered for the royal appointment. SALIERI How charming. But why did he not come himself? CONSTANZE He's terribly busy, sir. SALIERI I understand. He takes the portfolio and puts it on a table. SALIERI I will look at them, of course, the moment I can. It will be an honour. Please give him my warmest. CONSTANZE Would it be too much trouble, sir, to ask you to look at them now? While I wait. SALIERI I'm afraid I'm not at leisure this very moment. Just leave them with me. I assure you they will be quite safe. CONSTANZE I - I really cannot do that, Your Excellency. You see, he doesn't know I'm here. SALIERI Really? CONSTANZE My husband is a proud man, sir. He would be furious if he knew I'd come. SALIERI Then he didn't send you? CONSTANZE No, sir. This is my own idea. SALIERI I see. CONSTANZE Sir, we really need this job. We're desperate. My husband spends far more than he can ever earn. I don't mean he's lazy - he's not at all - he works all day long. It's just! he's not practical. Money simply slips through his fingers, it's really ridiculous, Your Excellency. I know you help musicians. You're famous for it. Give him just this one post. We'd be forever indebted! A short pause. SALIERI Let me offer you some refreshment. Do you know what these are? He indicates a dish piled high with glazed chestnuts. SALIERI Cappezzoli di Venere. Nipples of Venus. Roman chestnuts in brandied sugar. Won't you try one? They're quite surprising. He offers her the dish. She takes one and puts it in her mouth. He watches carefully. CONSTANZE Oh! They're wonderful. He takes one himself. We notice on his finger a heavy gold signet-ring. CONSTANZE Thank you very much, Your Excellency. SALIERI Don't keep calling me that. It puts me at such a distance. I was not born a Court Composer, you know. I'm from a small town, just like your husband. He smiles at her. She takes another chestnut. SALIERI Are you sure you can't leave that music, and come back again? I have other things you might like. CONSTANZE That's very tempting, but it's impossible, I'm afraid. Wolfi would be frantic if he found those were missing. You see, they're all originals. SALIERI Originals? CONSTANZE Yes. A pause. He puts out his hand and takes up the portfolio from the table. He opens it. He looks at the music. He is puzzled. SALIERI These are originals? CONSTANZE Yes, sir. He doesn't make copies. CUT TO: INT. OLD SALIERI'S HOSPITAL ROOM - NIGHT - 1823 The old man faces the Priest. OLD SALIERI Astounding! It was actually beyond belief. These were first and only drafts of music yet they showed no corrections of any kind. Not one. Do you realize what that meant? Vogler stares at him. OLD SALIERI He'd simply put down music already finished in his head. Page after page of it, as if he was just taking dictation. And music finished as no music is ever finished. INT. SALIERI'S SALON - LATE AFTERNOON - 1780'S CU, The manuscript in Mozart's handwriting. The music begins to sound under the following: OLD SALIERI (V.O.) Displace one note and there would be diminishment. Displace one phrase, and the structure would fall. It was clear to me. That sound I had heard in the Archbishop's palace had been no accident. Here again was the very voice of God! I was staring through the cage of those meticulous ink- strokes at an absolute, inimitable beauty. The music swells. What we now hear is an amazing collage of great passages from Mozart's music, ravishing to Salieri and to us. The Court Composer, oblivious to Constanze, who sits happily chewing chestnuts, her mouth covered in sugar, walks around and around his salon, reading the pages and dropping them on the floor when he is done with them. We see his agonized and wondering face: he shudders as if in a rough and tumbling sea; he experiences the point where beauty and great pain coalesce. More pages fall than he can read, scattering across the floor in a white cascade, as he circles the room. Finally, we hear the tremendous Qui Tollis from the Mass in C Minor. It seems to break over him like a wave and, unable to bear any more of it, he slams the portfolio shut. Instantly, the music breaks off, reverberating in his head. He stands shaking, staring wildly. Constanze gets up, perplexed. CONSTANZE Is it no good? A pause. SALIERI It is miraculous. CONSTANZE Oh yes. He's really proud of his work. Another pause. CONSTANZE So, will you help him? Salieri tries to recover himself. SALIERI Tomorrow night I dine with the Emperor. One word from me and the post is his. CONSTANZE Oh, thank you, sir! Overjoyed, she stops and kisses his hand. He raises her - and then clasps her to him clumsily. She pushes herself away. SALIERI Come back tonight. CONSTANZE Tonight? SALIERI Alone. CONSTANZE What for? SALIERI Some service deserves service in return. No? CONSTANZE What do you mean? SALIERI Isn't it obvious? They stare at one another: Constanze in total disbelief. SALIERI It's a post all Vienna seeks. If you want it for your husband, come tonight. CONSTANZE But! I'm a married woman! SALIERI Then don't. It's up to you. Not to be vague, that is the price. He glares at her. SALIERI Yes. He rings a silver bell for a servant and abruptly leaves the roam. Constanze stares after him, horrified. The servant enters. Shocked and stunned, Constanze goes down an her knees and starts picking up the music from the floor. CUT TO: INT. OLD SALIERI'S HOSPITAL ROOM - NIGHT - 1823 CU, Father Vogler, horrified. OLD SALIERI Yes, Father. Yes! So much for my vow of chastity. What did it matter? Good, patient, hard-working, chaste - what did it matter? Had goodness made me a good composer? I realized it absolutely then - that moment: goodness is nothing in the furnace of art. And I was nothing to God. VOGLER (crying out) You cannot say that! OLD SALIERI No? Was Mozart a good man? VOGLER God's ways are not yours. And you are not here to question Him. Offer him the salt of penitence. He will give you back the bread of eternal life. He is all merciful. That is all you need to know. OLD SALIERI All I ever wanted was to sing to Him. That's His doing, isn't it? He gave me that longing - then made me mute. Why? Tell me that. If He didn't want me to serve Him with music, why implant the desire, like a lust in my body, then deny me the talent? Go on, tell me! Speak for Him! VOGLER My son, no one can speak for God. OLD SALIERI Oh? I thought you did so every day. So speak now. Answer me! VOGLER I do not claim to unravel the mysteries. I treasure them. As you should. OLD SALIERI (impatiently) Oh yes, yes, yes, yes, yes! Always the same stale answers! (intimately to the priest) There is no God of Mercy, Father. Just a God of torture. CUT TO: INT. SALIERI'S APARTMENT - BEDROOM - NIGHT - 1780'S Salieri sits at his desk, staring up at the cross. OLD SALIERI (V.O.) Evening came to that room. I sat there not knowing whether the girl would return or not. I prayed as I'd never prayed before. SALIERI Dear God, enter me now. Fill me with one piece of true music. One piece with your breath in it, so I know that you love me. Please. Just one. Show me one sign of your favour, and I will show mine to Mozart and his wife. I will get him the royal position, and if she comes, I'll receive her with all respect and send her home in joy. Enter me! Enter me! Please! Te imploro. Long, long silence. Salieri stares at the cross. Christ stares back at him impassively. Finally in this silence we hear a faint knocking at the door. Salieri stirs himself. A servant appears. SERVANT That lady is back, sir. SALIERI Show her in. Then go to bed. The Servant bows and leaves. We follow him through: INT. MUSIC ROOM IN SALIERI'S APARTMENT - NIGHT - 1780'S The Servant crosses it and enters: INT. SALON IN SALIERI'S APARTMENT - NIGHT - 1780'S Constanze is sitting on an upright chair, veiled as before, the portfolio of music on her lap. Through the far door leading from the hall, another servant is peering at her. The first servant joins him and shuts the door on the girl, leaving her alone. We stay with her. The clock ticks on the mantelpiece. We hear an old carriage pass in the street below. Nervously she lifts her veil and looks about her. Suddenly Salieri appears from the music room. He is pale and very tight. They regard each other. She smiles and rises to greet him, affecting a relaxed and warm manner, as if to put him at his ease. CONSTANZE Well, I'm here. My husband has gone to a concert. He didn't think I would enjoy it. A pause. CONSTANZE I do apologize for this afternoon. I behaved like a silly girl. Where shall we go? SALIERI What? CONSTANZE Should we stay here? It's a charming room. I love these candlesticks. Were they here earlier? I didn't notice them I suppose I was too nervous. As she talks, she extinguishes the candles in a pair of Venetian candelabra and subsequently other candles around the room. CONSTANZE Wolfgang was given some candlesticks by King George in England, but they were only wood. Oh, excuse me. Let's not talk about him. What do you think of this? It's real lace. Brussels. She turns and takes off her shawl. CONSTANZE Well, it's much too good for every day. I keep saying to Wolfi, don't be so extravagant. Presents are lovely, but we can't afford them. It doesn't do any good. The more I tell him, the more he spends. Oh, excuse me! There I go again. She picks up the portfolio. CONSTANZE Do you still want to look at this? Or don't we need to bother anymore? I imagine we don't, really. She looks at him inquiringly, and drops the portfolio on the floor; pages of music pour out of it. Instantly we hear a massive chord, and the great Qui Tollis from the Mass in C Minor fills the room. To its grand and weighty sound, Constanze starts to undress, watched by the horrified Salieri. Between him and her, music is an active presence, hurting and baffling him. He opens his mouth in distress. The music pounds in his head. The candle flickers over her as she removes her clothes and prepares for his embrace. Suddenly he cries out. SALIERI Go! Go! Go! He snatches up the bell and shakes it frantically, not stopping until the two servants we saw earlier appear at the door. The music stops abruptly. They stare at the appalled and frightened Constanze, who is desperately trying to cover her nakedness. SALIERI Show this woman out! Constanze hurls herself at him. CONSTANZE You shit! You shit! You rotten shit! He seizes her wrists and thrusts her back. Then he leaves the room quickly, slamming the door behind him. Constanze turns and sees the two servants goggling at her in the room. CONSTANZE What are you staring at? Wildly, she picks up the candelabrum and throws it at them. It shatters on the floor. INT. SALIERI'S APARTMENT - BEDROOM - NIGHT - 1780'S CU, Salieri standing, his eyes shut, shaking in distress. He opens them and sees Christ across the room, staring at him from the wall. OLD SALIERI (V.O.) From now on, we are enemies, You and I! CUT TO: INT. OLD SALIERI'S HOSPITAL ROOM - NIGHT - 1823 The old man is reliving the experience. Vogler looks at him, horrified. OLD SALIERI Because You will not enter me, with all my need for you; because You scorn my attempts at virtue; because You choose for Your instrument a boastful, lustful, smutty infantile boy and give me for reward only the ability to recognize the Incarnation; because You are unjust, unfair, unkind, I will block You! I swear it! I will hinder and harm Your creature on earth as far as I am able. I will ruin Your Incarnation. CUT BACK TO: INT. SALIERI'S APARTMENT - BEDROOM - NIGHT - 1780'S CU, the fireplace. In it lies the olivewood Christ on the cross, burning. OLD SALIERI (V.O.) What use after all is Man, if not to teach God His lessons? The cross flames up and disintegrates. Salieri stares at it. CUT TO: INT. MOZART'S APARTMENT - LIVING ROOM - NIGHT - 1780'S The front door bursts open. Mozart stumbles in, followed by EMMANUEL SCHIKANEDER, three young actresses, and another man, all fairly drunk. Schikaneder (who appears everywhere accompanied by young girls) is a large, fleshy, extravagant man of about thirty-five. MOZART Stanzi! Stanzi! Stanzi-Manzi! The others laugh. MOZART Sssh! SCHIKANEDER (imitating Mozart) Stanzi-Manzi-Banzi-Wanzi! MOZART Sssh! Stay here. He walks unsteadily to the bedroom door and opens it. SCHIKANEDER (to the girls, very tipsy) Sssh! You're dishgrashful! INT. MOZART'S APARTMENT - BEDROOM - NIGHT - 1780'S Constanze lies in bed, her back turned to her husband, who comes into the room and shuts the door. MOZART (playfully) Stanzi? How's my mouse? Mouse-wouse? I'm back - puss-wuss is back! She turns around abruptly. She looks dreadful; her eyes red with weeping. Mozart is shocked. MOZART Stanzi! He approaches the bed and sits on it. Immediately she starts crying again, desperately. MOZART What's the matter? What is it? Stanzi! He holds her and she clings to him in a fierce embrace, crying a flood of tears. MOZART Stop it now. Stop it. I've brought some friends to meet you. They're next door waiting. Do we have anything to eat? They're all starving. CONSTANZE Tell them to go away. I don't want to see anybody. MOZART What's the matter with you? CONSTANZE Tell them to go! MOZART Sssh. What is it? Tell me. CONSTANZE No! MOZART Yes! CONSTANZE I love you! I love you! She starts crying again, throwing her arms around his neck. CONSTANZE I love you. Please stay with me. I'm frightened. INT. THE ROYAL PALACE - DINING ROOM - DAY - 1780'S Joseph sits eating. A butler serves him goat's milk to drink. Joseph is holding a memorandum from Salieri in his hand. Salieri stands before him. JOSEPH I don't think you understand me, Court Composer. SALIERI Majesty, I did. Believe me, it was a most agonizing. decision. But finally, I simply could not recommend Herr Mozart. JOSEPH Why not? SALIERI Well, Sire, I made some inquiries in a routine way. I was curious to know why he had so few pupils. It is rather alarming. JOSEPH Oh? With a gesture Joseph dismisses the butler, who bows and leaves the room. SALIERI Majesty, I don't like to talk against a fellow musician. JOSEPH Of course not. SALIERI I have to tell you, Mozart is not entirely to be trusted alone with young ladies. JOSEPH Really? SALIERI As a matter of fact, one of my own pupils - a very young singer - told me she was - er - well! JOSEPH Yes? SALIERI Molested, Majesty. Twice, in the course of the same lesson. A pause. JOSEPH Ah-ha. Well. There it is. INT. SALIERI'S HOUSE - STAIRCASE - VIENNA - DAY - 1780'S Salieri has just returned from the palace and is coming up the staircase. He is met by his servant. SERVANT Sir, there is a Herr Mozart waiting for you in the salon. Salieri is plainly alarmed. SALIERI What does he want? SERVANT He didn't say, sir. I told him I didn't know when you would be back, but he insisted on waiting. SALIERI Come with me. And stay in the room. He mounts the stairs. INT. SALIERI'S APARTMENT - SALON - DAY - 1780'S Mozart is waiting for Salieri, holding a portfolio. Salieri approaches him nervously. Mozart stands not belligerently, but humbly. SALIERI Herr Mozart, what brings you here? MOZART Your Excellency, you requested some specimens of my work. Here they are. I don't have to tell you how much I need your help. I truly appreciate your looking at these. I have pressures on me - financial pressures. As you know, I'm a married man now. SALIERI So you are. How is your pretty wife? MOZART She is well. She is - well, actually, I'm about to become a father! She only told me last night. You are the first to know. SALIERI I'm flattered. And congratulations to you, of course. MOZART So you see, this post is very important to me right now. Salieri looks at him in distress. SALIERI Why didn't you come to me yesterday, Mozart? This is a most painful situation. Yesterday I could have helped you. Today, I can't. MOZART Why? Here is the music. It's here. I am submitting it humbly. Isn't that what you wanted? SALIERI I have just come from the palace. The post has been filled. MOZART Filled? That's impossible! They haven't even seen my work. I need this post. Please, can't you help me? Please! SALIERI My dear Mozart, there is no one in the world I would rather help, but now it is too late. MOZART Whom did they choose? SALIERI Herr Sommer. MOZART Sommer? Herr Sommer? But the man's a fool! He's a total mediocrity. SALIERI No, no, no: he has yet to achieve mediocrity. MOZART But I can't lose this post, I simply can't! Excellency, please. Let's go to the palace, and you can explain to the Emperor that Herr Sommer is an awful choice. He could actually do musical harm to the Princess! SALIERI An implausible idea. Between you and me, no one in the world could do musical harm to the Princess Elizabeth. Mozart chuckles delightedly. Salieri offers him a glass of white dessert and a spoon. Mozart takes it absently and goes on talking. MOZART Look, I must have pupils. Without pupils I can't manage. SALIERI You don't mean to tell me you are living in poverty? MOZART No, but I'm broke. I'm always broke. I don't know why. SALIERI It has been said, my friend, that you are inclined to live somewhat above your means. MOZART How can anyone say that? We have no cook, no maid. We have no footman. Nothing at all! SALIERI How is that possible? You give concerts, don't you? I hear they are quite successful. MOZART They're stupendously successful. You can't get a seat. The only problem is none will hire me. They all want to hear me play, but they won't let me teach their daughters. As if I was some kind of fiend. I'm not a fiend! SALIERI Of course not. MOZART Do you have a daughter? SALIERI I'm afraid not. MOZART Well, could you lend me some money till you have one?

almost

How many times the word 'almost' appears in the text?

All the same, why him? Why use Mozart to teach me lessons in humility? My heart was filling up with such hatred for that little man. For the first time in my life I began to know really violent thoughts. I couldn't stop them. VOGLER Did you try? OLD SALIERI Every day. Sometimes for hours I would pray! INT. SALIERI'S APARTMENT - BEDROOM - DAY - 1780'S The young Salieri is kneeling in desperation before the Cross. SALIERI Please! Please! Send him away, back to Salzburg. For his sake as well as mine. CU, Christ staring from the Cross. CUT BACK TO: INT. AUDIENCE HALL - ARCHBISHOP'S PALACE - SALZBURG - DAY - 1780'S We see Leopold kneeling now not to the Cross but to Archbishop Colloredo, sitting impassively on his throne. Count Arco stands beside him. Leopold is a desperate, once-handsome man of sixty, now far too much the subservient courtier. COLLOREDO No! I won't have him back. LEOPOLD But he needs to be here in Salzburg, Your Grace. He needs me and he needs you. Your protection, your understanding. COLLOREDO Hardly. LEOPOLD Oh sir, yes! He's about to make the worst mistake of his life. Some little Viennese slut is trying to trick him into marriage. I know my son. He is too simple to see the trap - and there is no one there who really cares for him. COLLOREDO I'm not surprised. Money seems to be more important to him than loyalty or friendship. He has sold himself to Vienna. Let Vienna look out for him. LEOPOLD Sir - COLLOREDO Your son is an unprincipled, spoiled, conceited brat. LEOPOLD Yes, sir, that's the truth. But don't blame him. The fault is mine. I was too indulgent with him. But not again. Never again, I promise! I implore you - let me bring him back here. I'll make him give his word to serve you faithfully. COLLOREDO And how will you make him keep it? LEOPOLD Oh, sir, he's never disobeyed me in anything. Please, Your Grace, give him one more chance. COLLOREDO You have leave to try. LEOPOLD Oh, Your Grace - I thank Your Grace! I thank you! In deepest gratitude he kisses the Archbishop's hand. He motions Leopold to rise. We hear the first dark fortissimo chord which begins the Overture to Don Giovanni: the theme associated with the character of the Commendatore. LEOPOLD (V.O.) My dear son. The second fortissimo chord sounds. INT. A BAROQUE CHURCH - DAY - 1780'S We see a huge CU, of Mozart's head, looking front and down, as if reading his father's letter. We hear Leopold's voice over this image, no longer whining and anxious, but impressive. LEOPOLD (V.O.) I write to you with urgent news. I am coming to Vienna. Take no further steps toward marriage until we meet. You are too gullible to see your own danger. As you honour the father who has devoted his entire life to yours, do as I bid, and await my coming. MOZART I will. The camera pulls back to see that he is in fact kneeling beside Constanze. A PRIEST faces them. Behind them are Madame Weber, Josefa and Sophie Weber, and a very few others. Among them, a merry looking lady in bright clothes: the BARONESS WALDSTADTEN. PRIEST And will you, Constanze Weber, take this man, Wolfgang to be your lawful husband? CONSTANZE I will. PRIEST I now pronounce you man and wife. The opening kyrie of the great Mass in C Minor is heard. Mozart and Constanze kiss. They are in tears. Madame Weber and her daughters look on approvingly. The music swells and continues under the following: INT. A ROOM IN LEOPOLD'S HOUSE - SALZBURG - NIGHT - 1780'S There is a view of a castle in background. Leopold sits alone in his room. He is reading a letter from Wolfgang. At his feet are his trunks, half-packed for the journey he will not now take. We hear Mozart's voice reading the following letter and we see, as the camera roves around the room, mementos of the young prodigy's early life: the little forte-piano made for him; the little violin made for him; an Order presented to him. We see a little starling in a wicker cage. And we see portraits of the boy on the walls, concluding with the familiar family portrait of Wolfgang and his sister Nannerl seated at the keyboard with Leopold standing, and the picture of their mother on the wall behind them. MOZART (V.O.) Most beloved father, it is done. Do not blame me that I did not wait to see your dear face. I knew you would have tried to dissuade me from my truest happiness and I could not have borne it. Your every word is precious to me. Remember how you have always told me Vienna is the City of Musicians. To conquer here is to conquer Europe! With my wife I can do it. I vow I will become regular in my habits and productive as never before. She is wonderful, Papa, and I know that you will love her. And one day soon when I am a wealthy man, you will come and live with us, and we will be so happy. I long for that day, best of Papas, and kiss your hand a hundred thousand times. The music of the Mass fades as Leopold crumples the letter in his hand. EXT. THE IMPERIAL GARDENS - VIENNA - DAY - 1780'S Salieri stands waiting, hat in hand. Beside him stands a royal servant. Behind him, gardeners are glimpsed tending the shrubs and bushes along a grassy ride. Down this ride are seen cantering two people on horseback: the Emperor Joseph and his niece, the PRINCESS ELIZABETH. They are mounted on glossy horses. The Princess rides side-saddle. Running beside her is a panting groom. The Emperor rides elegantly; his niece, a dumpy little Hapsburg girl of sixteen, like a sack of potatoes. As they draw level with Salieri they stop, and the groom holds the head of the Princess' horse. Salieri bows respectfully. JOSEPH Good morning, Court Composer. This is my niece, the Princess Elizabeth. SALIERI Your Highness. Out of breath, the Princess nods nervously. JOSEPH She has asked me to advise her on a suitable musical instructor. I think I've come up with an excellent idea. He smiles at Salieri. SALIERI Oh, Your Majesty, it would be such a tremendous honour! JOSEPH I'm thinking about Herr Mozart. What is your view? Salieri's face falls, almost imperceptibly. SALIERI An interesting idea, Majesty. But - JOSEPH Yes? SALIERI You already commissioned an opera from Mozart. JOSEPH And the result satisfies. SALIERI Yes, of course. My concern is to protect you from any suspicion of favouritism. JOSEPH Ah-ha. Favouritism. But I so want Mozart. SALIERI I'm sure there is a way, Majesty. Some kind of a little contest. I could perhaps put together a small Committee, and I could see to it naturally that it will select according to Your Majesty's wishes. JOSEPH You please me, Court Composer. A very clever idea. SALIERI (bowing) Sire. JOSEPH Well. There it is. He rides on. The groom releases her horse's head, and runs on after the Princess. CUT TO: INT. CHAMBERLAIN VON STRACK'S STUDY - DAY - 1780'S Von Strack sits stiffly behind his gilded desk. Mozart stands before him, trembling with anger. MOZART What is this, Herr Chamberlain? VON STRACK What is what? MOZART Why do I have to submit samples of my work to some stupid committee? Just to teach a sixteen-year-old girl. VON STRACK Because His Majesty wishes it. MOZART Is the Emperor angry with me? VON STRACK On the contrary. MOZART Then why doesn't he simply appoint me to the post? VON STRACK Mozart, you are not the only composer in Vienna. MOZART No, but I'm the best. VON STRACK A little modesty would suit you better. MOZART Who is on this committee? VON STRACK Kapellmeister Bonno, Count Orsini- Rosenberg and Court Composer Salieri. MOZART Naturally, the Italians! Of course! Always the Italians! VON STRACK Mozart - MOZART They hate my music. It terrifies them. The only sound Italians understand is banality. Tonic and dominant, tonic and dominant, from here to Resurrection! (singing angrily) Ba-ba! Ba-ba! Ba-ba! Ba-ba! Anything else is morbid. VON STRACK Mozart - MOZART Show them one interesting modulation and they faint. Ohime! Morbidezza! Morbidezza! Italians are musical idiots and you want them to judge my music! VON STRACK Look, young man, the issue is simple. If you want this post, you must submit your stuff in the same way as all your colleagues. MOZART Must I? Well, I won't! I tell you straight: I will not! CUT TO: INT. MOZART'S APARTMENT - BEDROOM - VIENNA - DAY - 1780'S The room is very small and untidy. Constanze is marching up and down it, upset. Mozart is lying on the bed. CONSTANZE I think you're mad! You're really mad! MOZART Oh, leave me alone. CONSTANZE One royal pupil and the whole of Vienna will come flocking. We'd be set up for life! MOZART They'll come anyway. They love me here. CONSTANZE No, they will not. I know how things work in this city. MOZART Oh yes? You always know everything. CONSTANZE Well, I'm not borrowing any more money from my mother, and that's that! MOZART You borrowed money from your mother? CONSTANZE Yes! MOZART Well, don't do that again! CONSTANZE How are we going to live, Wolfi? Do you want me to go into the streets and beg? MOZART Don't be stupid. CONSTANZE All they want to see is your work. What's wrong with that? MOZART Shut up! Just shut up! I don't need them. CONSTANZE This isn't pride. It's sheer stupidity! She glares at him, almost in tears. CUT TO: INT. SALIERI'S MUSIC ROOM - LATE AFTERNOON - 1780'S Salieri is giving a lesson to a girl student, who is singing the Italian art song, Caro Mio Ben. There is a knock on the door. SALIERI Yes. A SERVANT enters. SERVANT Excuse me, sir, there is a lady who insists on talking to you. SALIERI Who is she? SERVANT She didn't say. But she says it's urgent. SALIERI (to the pupil) Excuse me, my dear. Salieri goes into the salon. CUT TO: INT. THE SALON - LATE AFTERNOON - 1780'S Constanze stands, closely veiled, holding a portfolio stuffed with manuscripts. The singing lesson ends, with two chords on the instrument. Salieri enters the salon. Constanze drops him a shy curtsey. CONSTANZE Excellency! SALIERI Madame. How can I help you? Shyly, she unveils. SALIERI Frau Mozart? CONSTANZE That's right, Your Excellency. I've come on behalf of my hus band. I'm - I'm bringing some samples of his work so he can be considered for the royal appointment. SALIERI How charming. But why did he not come himself? CONSTANZE He's terribly busy, sir. SALIERI I understand. He takes the portfolio and puts it on a table. SALIERI I will look at them, of course, the moment I can. It will be an honour. Please give him my warmest. CONSTANZE Would it be too much trouble, sir, to ask you to look at them now? While I wait. SALIERI I'm afraid I'm not at leisure this very moment. Just leave them with me. I assure you they will be quite safe. CONSTANZE I - I really cannot do that, Your Excellency. You see, he doesn't know I'm here. SALIERI Really? CONSTANZE My husband is a proud man, sir. He would be furious if he knew I'd come. SALIERI Then he didn't send you? CONSTANZE No, sir. This is my own idea. SALIERI I see. CONSTANZE Sir, we really need this job. We're desperate. My husband spends far more than he can ever earn. I don't mean he's lazy - he's not at all - he works all day long. It's just! he's not practical. Money simply slips through his fingers, it's really ridiculous, Your Excellency. I know you help musicians. You're famous for it. Give him just this one post. We'd be forever indebted! A short pause. SALIERI Let me offer you some refreshment. Do you know what these are? He indicates a dish piled high with glazed chestnuts. SALIERI Cappezzoli di Venere. Nipples of Venus. Roman chestnuts in brandied sugar. Won't you try one? They're quite surprising. He offers her the dish. She takes one and puts it in her mouth. He watches carefully. CONSTANZE Oh! They're wonderful. He takes one himself. We notice on his finger a heavy gold signet-ring. CONSTANZE Thank you very much, Your Excellency. SALIERI Don't keep calling me that. It puts me at such a distance. I was not born a Court Composer, you know. I'm from a small town, just like your husband. He smiles at her. She takes another chestnut. SALIERI Are you sure you can't leave that music, and come back again? I have other things you might like. CONSTANZE That's very tempting, but it's impossible, I'm afraid. Wolfi would be frantic if he found those were missing. You see, they're all originals. SALIERI Originals? CONSTANZE Yes. A pause. He puts out his hand and takes up the portfolio from the table. He opens it. He looks at the music. He is puzzled. SALIERI These are originals? CONSTANZE Yes, sir. He doesn't make copies. CUT TO: INT. OLD SALIERI'S HOSPITAL ROOM - NIGHT - 1823 The old man faces the Priest. OLD SALIERI Astounding! It was actually beyond belief. These were first and only drafts of music yet they showed no corrections of any kind. Not one. Do you realize what that meant? Vogler stares at him. OLD SALIERI He'd simply put down music already finished in his head. Page after page of it, as if he was just taking dictation. And music finished as no music is ever finished. INT. SALIERI'S SALON - LATE AFTERNOON - 1780'S CU, The manuscript in Mozart's handwriting. The music begins to sound under the following: OLD SALIERI (V.O.) Displace one note and there would be diminishment. Displace one phrase, and the structure would fall. It was clear to me. That sound I had heard in the Archbishop's palace had been no accident. Here again was the very voice of God! I was staring through the cage of those meticulous ink- strokes at an absolute, inimitable beauty. The music swells. What we now hear is an amazing collage of great passages from Mozart's music, ravishing to Salieri and to us. The Court Composer, oblivious to Constanze, who sits happily chewing chestnuts, her mouth covered in sugar, walks around and around his salon, reading the pages and dropping them on the floor when he is done with them. We see his agonized and wondering face: he shudders as if in a rough and tumbling sea; he experiences the point where beauty and great pain coalesce. More pages fall than he can read, scattering across the floor in a white cascade, as he circles the room. Finally, we hear the tremendous Qui Tollis from the Mass in C Minor. It seems to break over him like a wave and, unable to bear any more of it, he slams the portfolio shut. Instantly, the music breaks off, reverberating in his head. He stands shaking, staring wildly. Constanze gets up, perplexed. CONSTANZE Is it no good? A pause. SALIERI It is miraculous. CONSTANZE Oh yes. He's really proud of his work. Another pause. CONSTANZE So, will you help him? Salieri tries to recover himself. SALIERI Tomorrow night I dine with the Emperor. One word from me and the post is his. CONSTANZE Oh, thank you, sir! Overjoyed, she stops and kisses his hand. He raises her - and then clasps her to him clumsily. She pushes herself away. SALIERI Come back tonight. CONSTANZE Tonight? SALIERI Alone. CONSTANZE What for? SALIERI Some service deserves service in return. No? CONSTANZE What do you mean? SALIERI Isn't it obvious? They stare at one another: Constanze in total disbelief. SALIERI It's a post all Vienna seeks. If you want it for your husband, come tonight. CONSTANZE But! I'm a married woman! SALIERI Then don't. It's up to you. Not to be vague, that is the price. He glares at her. SALIERI Yes. He rings a silver bell for a servant and abruptly leaves the roam. Constanze stares after him, horrified. The servant enters. Shocked and stunned, Constanze goes down an her knees and starts picking up the music from the floor. CUT TO: INT. OLD SALIERI'S HOSPITAL ROOM - NIGHT - 1823 CU, Father Vogler, horrified. OLD SALIERI Yes, Father. Yes! So much for my vow of chastity. What did it matter? Good, patient, hard-working, chaste - what did it matter? Had goodness made me a good composer? I realized it absolutely then - that moment: goodness is nothing in the furnace of art. And I was nothing to God. VOGLER (crying out) You cannot say that! OLD SALIERI No? Was Mozart a good man? VOGLER God's ways are not yours. And you are not here to question Him. Offer him the salt of penitence. He will give you back the bread of eternal life. He is all merciful. That is all you need to know. OLD SALIERI All I ever wanted was to sing to Him. That's His doing, isn't it? He gave me that longing - then made me mute. Why? Tell me that. If He didn't want me to serve Him with music, why implant the desire, like a lust in my body, then deny me the talent? Go on, tell me! Speak for Him! VOGLER My son, no one can speak for God. OLD SALIERI Oh? I thought you did so every day. So speak now. Answer me! VOGLER I do not claim to unravel the mysteries. I treasure them. As you should. OLD SALIERI (impatiently) Oh yes, yes, yes, yes, yes! Always the same stale answers! (intimately to the priest) There is no God of Mercy, Father. Just a God of torture. CUT TO: INT. SALIERI'S APARTMENT - BEDROOM - NIGHT - 1780'S Salieri sits at his desk, staring up at the cross. OLD SALIERI (V.O.) Evening came to that room. I sat there not knowing whether the girl would return or not. I prayed as I'd never prayed before. SALIERI Dear God, enter me now. Fill me with one piece of true music. One piece with your breath in it, so I know that you love me. Please. Just one. Show me one sign of your favour, and I will show mine to Mozart and his wife. I will get him the royal position, and if she comes, I'll receive her with all respect and send her home in joy. Enter me! Enter me! Please! Te imploro. Long, long silence. Salieri stares at the cross. Christ stares back at him impassively. Finally in this silence we hear a faint knocking at the door. Salieri stirs himself. A servant appears. SERVANT That lady is back, sir. SALIERI Show her in. Then go to bed. The Servant bows and leaves. We follow him through: INT. MUSIC ROOM IN SALIERI'S APARTMENT - NIGHT - 1780'S The Servant crosses it and enters: INT. SALON IN SALIERI'S APARTMENT - NIGHT - 1780'S Constanze is sitting on an upright chair, veiled as before, the portfolio of music on her lap. Through the far door leading from the hall, another servant is peering at her. The first servant joins him and shuts the door on the girl, leaving her alone. We stay with her. The clock ticks on the mantelpiece. We hear an old carriage pass in the street below. Nervously she lifts her veil and looks about her. Suddenly Salieri appears from the music room. He is pale and very tight. They regard each other. She smiles and rises to greet him, affecting a relaxed and warm manner, as if to put him at his ease. CONSTANZE Well, I'm here. My husband has gone to a concert. He didn't think I would enjoy it. A pause. CONSTANZE I do apologize for this afternoon. I behaved like a silly girl. Where shall we go? SALIERI What? CONSTANZE Should we stay here? It's a charming room. I love these candlesticks. Were they here earlier? I didn't notice them I suppose I was too nervous. As she talks, she extinguishes the candles in a pair of Venetian candelabra and subsequently other candles around the room. CONSTANZE Wolfgang was given some candlesticks by King George in England, but they were only wood. Oh, excuse me. Let's not talk about him. What do you think of this? It's real lace. Brussels. She turns and takes off her shawl. CONSTANZE Well, it's much too good for every day. I keep saying to Wolfi, don't be so extravagant. Presents are lovely, but we can't afford them. It doesn't do any good. The more I tell him, the more he spends. Oh, excuse me! There I go again. She picks up the portfolio. CONSTANZE Do you still want to look at this? Or don't we need to bother anymore? I imagine we don't, really. She looks at him inquiringly, and drops the portfolio on the floor; pages of music pour out of it. Instantly we hear a massive chord, and the great Qui Tollis from the Mass in C Minor fills the room. To its grand and weighty sound, Constanze starts to undress, watched by the horrified Salieri. Between him and her, music is an active presence, hurting and baffling him. He opens his mouth in distress. The music pounds in his head. The candle flickers over her as she removes her clothes and prepares for his embrace. Suddenly he cries out. SALIERI Go! Go! Go! He snatches up the bell and shakes it frantically, not stopping until the two servants we saw earlier appear at the door. The music stops abruptly. They stare at the appalled and frightened Constanze, who is desperately trying to cover her nakedness. SALIERI Show this woman out! Constanze hurls herself at him. CONSTANZE You shit! You shit! You rotten shit! He seizes her wrists and thrusts her back. Then he leaves the room quickly, slamming the door behind him. Constanze turns and sees the two servants goggling at her in the room. CONSTANZE What are you staring at? Wildly, she picks up the candelabrum and throws it at them. It shatters on the floor. INT. SALIERI'S APARTMENT - BEDROOM - NIGHT - 1780'S CU, Salieri standing, his eyes shut, shaking in distress. He opens them and sees Christ across the room, staring at him from the wall. OLD SALIERI (V.O.) From now on, we are enemies, You and I! CUT TO: INT. OLD SALIERI'S HOSPITAL ROOM - NIGHT - 1823 The old man is reliving the experience. Vogler looks at him, horrified. OLD SALIERI Because You will not enter me, with all my need for you; because You scorn my attempts at virtue; because You choose for Your instrument a boastful, lustful, smutty infantile boy and give me for reward only the ability to recognize the Incarnation; because You are unjust, unfair, unkind, I will block You! I swear it! I will hinder and harm Your creature on earth as far as I am able. I will ruin Your Incarnation. CUT BACK TO: INT. SALIERI'S APARTMENT - BEDROOM - NIGHT - 1780'S CU, the fireplace. In it lies the olivewood Christ on the cross, burning. OLD SALIERI (V.O.) What use after all is Man, if not to teach God His lessons? The cross flames up and disintegrates. Salieri stares at it. CUT TO: INT. MOZART'S APARTMENT - LIVING ROOM - NIGHT - 1780'S The front door bursts open. Mozart stumbles in, followed by EMMANUEL SCHIKANEDER, three young actresses, and another man, all fairly drunk. Schikaneder (who appears everywhere accompanied by young girls) is a large, fleshy, extravagant man of about thirty-five. MOZART Stanzi! Stanzi! Stanzi-Manzi! The others laugh. MOZART Sssh! SCHIKANEDER (imitating Mozart) Stanzi-Manzi-Banzi-Wanzi! MOZART Sssh! Stay here. He walks unsteadily to the bedroom door and opens it. SCHIKANEDER (to the girls, very tipsy) Sssh! You're dishgrashful! INT. MOZART'S APARTMENT - BEDROOM - NIGHT - 1780'S Constanze lies in bed, her back turned to her husband, who comes into the room and shuts the door. MOZART (playfully) Stanzi? How's my mouse? Mouse-wouse? I'm back - puss-wuss is back! She turns around abruptly. She looks dreadful; her eyes red with weeping. Mozart is shocked. MOZART Stanzi! He approaches the bed and sits on it. Immediately she starts crying again, desperately. MOZART What's the matter? What is it? Stanzi! He holds her and she clings to him in a fierce embrace, crying a flood of tears. MOZART Stop it now. Stop it. I've brought some friends to meet you. They're next door waiting. Do we have anything to eat? They're all starving. CONSTANZE Tell them to go away. I don't want to see anybody. MOZART What's the matter with you? CONSTANZE Tell them to go! MOZART Sssh. What is it? Tell me. CONSTANZE No! MOZART Yes! CONSTANZE I love you! I love you! She starts crying again, throwing her arms around his neck. CONSTANZE I love you. Please stay with me. I'm frightened. INT. THE ROYAL PALACE - DINING ROOM - DAY - 1780'S Joseph sits eating. A butler serves him goat's milk to drink. Joseph is holding a memorandum from Salieri in his hand. Salieri stands before him. JOSEPH I don't think you understand me, Court Composer. SALIERI Majesty, I did. Believe me, it was a most agonizing. decision. But finally, I simply could not recommend Herr Mozart. JOSEPH Why not? SALIERI Well, Sire, I made some inquiries in a routine way. I was curious to know why he had so few pupils. It is rather alarming. JOSEPH Oh? With a gesture Joseph dismisses the butler, who bows and leaves the room. SALIERI Majesty, I don't like to talk against a fellow musician. JOSEPH Of course not. SALIERI I have to tell you, Mozart is not entirely to be trusted alone with young ladies. JOSEPH Really? SALIERI As a matter of fact, one of my own pupils - a very young singer - told me she was - er - well! JOSEPH Yes? SALIERI Molested, Majesty. Twice, in the course of the same lesson. A pause. JOSEPH Ah-ha. Well. There it is. INT. SALIERI'S HOUSE - STAIRCASE - VIENNA - DAY - 1780'S Salieri has just returned from the palace and is coming up the staircase. He is met by his servant. SERVANT Sir, there is a Herr Mozart waiting for you in the salon. Salieri is plainly alarmed. SALIERI What does he want? SERVANT He didn't say, sir. I told him I didn't know when you would be back, but he insisted on waiting. SALIERI Come with me. And stay in the room. He mounts the stairs. INT. SALIERI'S APARTMENT - SALON - DAY - 1780'S Mozart is waiting for Salieri, holding a portfolio. Salieri approaches him nervously. Mozart stands not belligerently, but humbly. SALIERI Herr Mozart, what brings you here? MOZART Your Excellency, you requested some specimens of my work. Here they are. I don't have to tell you how much I need your help. I truly appreciate your looking at these. I have pressures on me - financial pressures. As you know, I'm a married man now. SALIERI So you are. How is your pretty wife? MOZART She is well. She is - well, actually, I'm about to become a father! She only told me last night. You are the first to know. SALIERI I'm flattered. And congratulations to you, of course. MOZART So you see, this post is very important to me right now. Salieri looks at him in distress. SALIERI Why didn't you come to me yesterday, Mozart? This is a most painful situation. Yesterday I could have helped you. Today, I can't. MOZART Why? Here is the music. It's here. I am submitting it humbly. Isn't that what you wanted? SALIERI I have just come from the palace. The post has been filled. MOZART Filled? That's impossible! They haven't even seen my work. I need this post. Please, can't you help me? Please! SALIERI My dear Mozart, there is no one in the world I would rather help, but now it is too late. MOZART Whom did they choose? SALIERI Herr Sommer. MOZART Sommer? Herr Sommer? But the man's a fool! He's a total mediocrity. SALIERI No, no, no: he has yet to achieve mediocrity. MOZART But I can't lose this post, I simply can't! Excellency, please. Let's go to the palace, and you can explain to the Emperor that Herr Sommer is an awful choice. He could actually do musical harm to the Princess! SALIERI An implausible idea. Between you and me, no one in the world could do musical harm to the Princess Elizabeth. Mozart chuckles delightedly. Salieri offers him a glass of white dessert and a spoon. Mozart takes it absently and goes on talking. MOZART Look, I must have pupils. Without pupils I can't manage. SALIERI You don't mean to tell me you are living in poverty? MOZART No, but I'm broke. I'm always broke. I don't know why. SALIERI It has been said, my friend, that you are inclined to live somewhat above your means. MOZART How can anyone say that? We have no cook, no maid. We have no footman. Nothing at all! SALIERI How is that possible? You give concerts, don't you? I hear they are quite successful. MOZART They're stupendously successful. You can't get a seat. The only problem is none will hire me. They all want to hear me play, but they won't let me teach their daughters. As if I was some kind of fiend. I'm not a fiend! SALIERI Of course not. MOZART Do you have a daughter? SALIERI I'm afraid not. MOZART Well, could you lend me some money till you have one?

drowsy

How many times the word 'drowsy' appears in the text?

All the same, why him? Why use Mozart to teach me lessons in humility? My heart was filling up with such hatred for that little man. For the first time in my life I began to know really violent thoughts. I couldn't stop them. VOGLER Did you try? OLD SALIERI Every day. Sometimes for hours I would pray! INT. SALIERI'S APARTMENT - BEDROOM - DAY - 1780'S The young Salieri is kneeling in desperation before the Cross. SALIERI Please! Please! Send him away, back to Salzburg. For his sake as well as mine. CU, Christ staring from the Cross. CUT BACK TO: INT. AUDIENCE HALL - ARCHBISHOP'S PALACE - SALZBURG - DAY - 1780'S We see Leopold kneeling now not to the Cross but to Archbishop Colloredo, sitting impassively on his throne. Count Arco stands beside him. Leopold is a desperate, once-handsome man of sixty, now far too much the subservient courtier. COLLOREDO No! I won't have him back. LEOPOLD But he needs to be here in Salzburg, Your Grace. He needs me and he needs you. Your protection, your understanding. COLLOREDO Hardly. LEOPOLD Oh sir, yes! He's about to make the worst mistake of his life. Some little Viennese slut is trying to trick him into marriage. I know my son. He is too simple to see the trap - and there is no one there who really cares for him. COLLOREDO I'm not surprised. Money seems to be more important to him than loyalty or friendship. He has sold himself to Vienna. Let Vienna look out for him. LEOPOLD Sir - COLLOREDO Your son is an unprincipled, spoiled, conceited brat. LEOPOLD Yes, sir, that's the truth. But don't blame him. The fault is mine. I was too indulgent with him. But not again. Never again, I promise! I implore you - let me bring him back here. I'll make him give his word to serve you faithfully. COLLOREDO And how will you make him keep it? LEOPOLD Oh, sir, he's never disobeyed me in anything. Please, Your Grace, give him one more chance. COLLOREDO You have leave to try. LEOPOLD Oh, Your Grace - I thank Your Grace! I thank you! In deepest gratitude he kisses the Archbishop's hand. He motions Leopold to rise. We hear the first dark fortissimo chord which begins the Overture to Don Giovanni: the theme associated with the character of the Commendatore. LEOPOLD (V.O.) My dear son. The second fortissimo chord sounds. INT. A BAROQUE CHURCH - DAY - 1780'S We see a huge CU, of Mozart's head, looking front and down, as if reading his father's letter. We hear Leopold's voice over this image, no longer whining and anxious, but impressive. LEOPOLD (V.O.) I write to you with urgent news. I am coming to Vienna. Take no further steps toward marriage until we meet. You are too gullible to see your own danger. As you honour the father who has devoted his entire life to yours, do as I bid, and await my coming. MOZART I will. The camera pulls back to see that he is in fact kneeling beside Constanze. A PRIEST faces them. Behind them are Madame Weber, Josefa and Sophie Weber, and a very few others. Among them, a merry looking lady in bright clothes: the BARONESS WALDSTADTEN. PRIEST And will you, Constanze Weber, take this man, Wolfgang to be your lawful husband? CONSTANZE I will. PRIEST I now pronounce you man and wife. The opening kyrie of the great Mass in C Minor is heard. Mozart and Constanze kiss. They are in tears. Madame Weber and her daughters look on approvingly. The music swells and continues under the following: INT. A ROOM IN LEOPOLD'S HOUSE - SALZBURG - NIGHT - 1780'S There is a view of a castle in background. Leopold sits alone in his room. He is reading a letter from Wolfgang. At his feet are his trunks, half-packed for the journey he will not now take. We hear Mozart's voice reading the following letter and we see, as the camera roves around the room, mementos of the young prodigy's early life: the little forte-piano made for him; the little violin made for him; an Order presented to him. We see a little starling in a wicker cage. And we see portraits of the boy on the walls, concluding with the familiar family portrait of Wolfgang and his sister Nannerl seated at the keyboard with Leopold standing, and the picture of their mother on the wall behind them. MOZART (V.O.) Most beloved father, it is done. Do not blame me that I did not wait to see your dear face. I knew you would have tried to dissuade me from my truest happiness and I could not have borne it. Your every word is precious to me. Remember how you have always told me Vienna is the City of Musicians. To conquer here is to conquer Europe! With my wife I can do it. I vow I will become regular in my habits and productive as never before. She is wonderful, Papa, and I know that you will love her. And one day soon when I am a wealthy man, you will come and live with us, and we will be so happy. I long for that day, best of Papas, and kiss your hand a hundred thousand times. The music of the Mass fades as Leopold crumples the letter in his hand. EXT. THE IMPERIAL GARDENS - VIENNA - DAY - 1780'S Salieri stands waiting, hat in hand. Beside him stands a royal servant. Behind him, gardeners are glimpsed tending the shrubs and bushes along a grassy ride. Down this ride are seen cantering two people on horseback: the Emperor Joseph and his niece, the PRINCESS ELIZABETH. They are mounted on glossy horses. The Princess rides side-saddle. Running beside her is a panting groom. The Emperor rides elegantly; his niece, a dumpy little Hapsburg girl of sixteen, like a sack of potatoes. As they draw level with Salieri they stop, and the groom holds the head of the Princess' horse. Salieri bows respectfully. JOSEPH Good morning, Court Composer. This is my niece, the Princess Elizabeth. SALIERI Your Highness. Out of breath, the Princess nods nervously. JOSEPH She has asked me to advise her on a suitable musical instructor. I think I've come up with an excellent idea. He smiles at Salieri. SALIERI Oh, Your Majesty, it would be such a tremendous honour! JOSEPH I'm thinking about Herr Mozart. What is your view? Salieri's face falls, almost imperceptibly. SALIERI An interesting idea, Majesty. But - JOSEPH Yes? SALIERI You already commissioned an opera from Mozart. JOSEPH And the result satisfies. SALIERI Yes, of course. My concern is to protect you from any suspicion of favouritism. JOSEPH Ah-ha. Favouritism. But I so want Mozart. SALIERI I'm sure there is a way, Majesty. Some kind of a little contest. I could perhaps put together a small Committee, and I could see to it naturally that it will select according to Your Majesty's wishes. JOSEPH You please me, Court Composer. A very clever idea. SALIERI (bowing) Sire. JOSEPH Well. There it is. He rides on. The groom releases her horse's head, and runs on after the Princess. CUT TO: INT. CHAMBERLAIN VON STRACK'S STUDY - DAY - 1780'S Von Strack sits stiffly behind his gilded desk. Mozart stands before him, trembling with anger. MOZART What is this, Herr Chamberlain? VON STRACK What is what? MOZART Why do I have to submit samples of my work to some stupid committee? Just to teach a sixteen-year-old girl. VON STRACK Because His Majesty wishes it. MOZART Is the Emperor angry with me? VON STRACK On the contrary. MOZART Then why doesn't he simply appoint me to the post? VON STRACK Mozart, you are not the only composer in Vienna. MOZART No, but I'm the best. VON STRACK A little modesty would suit you better. MOZART Who is on this committee? VON STRACK Kapellmeister Bonno, Count Orsini- Rosenberg and Court Composer Salieri. MOZART Naturally, the Italians! Of course! Always the Italians! VON STRACK Mozart - MOZART They hate my music. It terrifies them. The only sound Italians understand is banality. Tonic and dominant, tonic and dominant, from here to Resurrection! (singing angrily) Ba-ba! Ba-ba! Ba-ba! Ba-ba! Anything else is morbid. VON STRACK Mozart - MOZART Show them one interesting modulation and they faint. Ohime! Morbidezza! Morbidezza! Italians are musical idiots and you want them to judge my music! VON STRACK Look, young man, the issue is simple. If you want this post, you must submit your stuff in the same way as all your colleagues. MOZART Must I? Well, I won't! I tell you straight: I will not! CUT TO: INT. MOZART'S APARTMENT - BEDROOM - VIENNA - DAY - 1780'S The room is very small and untidy. Constanze is marching up and down it, upset. Mozart is lying on the bed. CONSTANZE I think you're mad! You're really mad! MOZART Oh, leave me alone. CONSTANZE One royal pupil and the whole of Vienna will come flocking. We'd be set up for life! MOZART They'll come anyway. They love me here. CONSTANZE No, they will not. I know how things work in this city. MOZART Oh yes? You always know everything. CONSTANZE Well, I'm not borrowing any more money from my mother, and that's that! MOZART You borrowed money from your mother? CONSTANZE Yes! MOZART Well, don't do that again! CONSTANZE How are we going to live, Wolfi? Do you want me to go into the streets and beg? MOZART Don't be stupid. CONSTANZE All they want to see is your work. What's wrong with that? MOZART Shut up! Just shut up! I don't need them. CONSTANZE This isn't pride. It's sheer stupidity! She glares at him, almost in tears. CUT TO: INT. SALIERI'S MUSIC ROOM - LATE AFTERNOON - 1780'S Salieri is giving a lesson to a girl student, who is singing the Italian art song, Caro Mio Ben. There is a knock on the door. SALIERI Yes. A SERVANT enters. SERVANT Excuse me, sir, there is a lady who insists on talking to you. SALIERI Who is she? SERVANT She didn't say. But she says it's urgent. SALIERI (to the pupil) Excuse me, my dear. Salieri goes into the salon. CUT TO: INT. THE SALON - LATE AFTERNOON - 1780'S Constanze stands, closely veiled, holding a portfolio stuffed with manuscripts. The singing lesson ends, with two chords on the instrument. Salieri enters the salon. Constanze drops him a shy curtsey. CONSTANZE Excellency! SALIERI Madame. How can I help you? Shyly, she unveils. SALIERI Frau Mozart? CONSTANZE That's right, Your Excellency. I've come on behalf of my hus band. I'm - I'm bringing some samples of his work so he can be considered for the royal appointment. SALIERI How charming. But why did he not come himself? CONSTANZE He's terribly busy, sir. SALIERI I understand. He takes the portfolio and puts it on a table. SALIERI I will look at them, of course, the moment I can. It will be an honour. Please give him my warmest. CONSTANZE Would it be too much trouble, sir, to ask you to look at them now? While I wait. SALIERI I'm afraid I'm not at leisure this very moment. Just leave them with me. I assure you they will be quite safe. CONSTANZE I - I really cannot do that, Your Excellency. You see, he doesn't know I'm here. SALIERI Really? CONSTANZE My husband is a proud man, sir. He would be furious if he knew I'd come. SALIERI Then he didn't send you? CONSTANZE No, sir. This is my own idea. SALIERI I see. CONSTANZE Sir, we really need this job. We're desperate. My husband spends far more than he can ever earn. I don't mean he's lazy - he's not at all - he works all day long. It's just! he's not practical. Money simply slips through his fingers, it's really ridiculous, Your Excellency. I know you help musicians. You're famous for it. Give him just this one post. We'd be forever indebted! A short pause. SALIERI Let me offer you some refreshment. Do you know what these are? He indicates a dish piled high with glazed chestnuts. SALIERI Cappezzoli di Venere. Nipples of Venus. Roman chestnuts in brandied sugar. Won't you try one? They're quite surprising. He offers her the dish. She takes one and puts it in her mouth. He watches carefully. CONSTANZE Oh! They're wonderful. He takes one himself. We notice on his finger a heavy gold signet-ring. CONSTANZE Thank you very much, Your Excellency. SALIERI Don't keep calling me that. It puts me at such a distance. I was not born a Court Composer, you know. I'm from a small town, just like your husband. He smiles at her. She takes another chestnut. SALIERI Are you sure you can't leave that music, and come back again? I have other things you might like. CONSTANZE That's very tempting, but it's impossible, I'm afraid. Wolfi would be frantic if he found those were missing. You see, they're all originals. SALIERI Originals? CONSTANZE Yes. A pause. He puts out his hand and takes up the portfolio from the table. He opens it. He looks at the music. He is puzzled. SALIERI These are originals? CONSTANZE Yes, sir. He doesn't make copies. CUT TO: INT. OLD SALIERI'S HOSPITAL ROOM - NIGHT - 1823 The old man faces the Priest. OLD SALIERI Astounding! It was actually beyond belief. These were first and only drafts of music yet they showed no corrections of any kind. Not one. Do you realize what that meant? Vogler stares at him. OLD SALIERI He'd simply put down music already finished in his head. Page after page of it, as if he was just taking dictation. And music finished as no music is ever finished. INT. SALIERI'S SALON - LATE AFTERNOON - 1780'S CU, The manuscript in Mozart's handwriting. The music begins to sound under the following: OLD SALIERI (V.O.) Displace one note and there would be diminishment. Displace one phrase, and the structure would fall. It was clear to me. That sound I had heard in the Archbishop's palace had been no accident. Here again was the very voice of God! I was staring through the cage of those meticulous ink- strokes at an absolute, inimitable beauty. The music swells. What we now hear is an amazing collage of great passages from Mozart's music, ravishing to Salieri and to us. The Court Composer, oblivious to Constanze, who sits happily chewing chestnuts, her mouth covered in sugar, walks around and around his salon, reading the pages and dropping them on the floor when he is done with them. We see his agonized and wondering face: he shudders as if in a rough and tumbling sea; he experiences the point where beauty and great pain coalesce. More pages fall than he can read, scattering across the floor in a white cascade, as he circles the room. Finally, we hear the tremendous Qui Tollis from the Mass in C Minor. It seems to break over him like a wave and, unable to bear any more of it, he slams the portfolio shut. Instantly, the music breaks off, reverberating in his head. He stands shaking, staring wildly. Constanze gets up, perplexed. CONSTANZE Is it no good? A pause. SALIERI It is miraculous. CONSTANZE Oh yes. He's really proud of his work. Another pause. CONSTANZE So, will you help him? Salieri tries to recover himself. SALIERI Tomorrow night I dine with the Emperor. One word from me and the post is his. CONSTANZE Oh, thank you, sir! Overjoyed, she stops and kisses his hand. He raises her - and then clasps her to him clumsily. She pushes herself away. SALIERI Come back tonight. CONSTANZE Tonight? SALIERI Alone. CONSTANZE What for? SALIERI Some service deserves service in return. No? CONSTANZE What do you mean? SALIERI Isn't it obvious? They stare at one another: Constanze in total disbelief. SALIERI It's a post all Vienna seeks. If you want it for your husband, come tonight. CONSTANZE But! I'm a married woman! SALIERI Then don't. It's up to you. Not to be vague, that is the price. He glares at her. SALIERI Yes. He rings a silver bell for a servant and abruptly leaves the roam. Constanze stares after him, horrified. The servant enters. Shocked and stunned, Constanze goes down an her knees and starts picking up the music from the floor. CUT TO: INT. OLD SALIERI'S HOSPITAL ROOM - NIGHT - 1823 CU, Father Vogler, horrified. OLD SALIERI Yes, Father. Yes! So much for my vow of chastity. What did it matter? Good, patient, hard-working, chaste - what did it matter? Had goodness made me a good composer? I realized it absolutely then - that moment: goodness is nothing in the furnace of art. And I was nothing to God. VOGLER (crying out) You cannot say that! OLD SALIERI No? Was Mozart a good man? VOGLER God's ways are not yours. And you are not here to question Him. Offer him the salt of penitence. He will give you back the bread of eternal life. He is all merciful. That is all you need to know. OLD SALIERI All I ever wanted was to sing to Him. That's His doing, isn't it? He gave me that longing - then made me mute. Why? Tell me that. If He didn't want me to serve Him with music, why implant the desire, like a lust in my body, then deny me the talent? Go on, tell me! Speak for Him! VOGLER My son, no one can speak for God. OLD SALIERI Oh? I thought you did so every day. So speak now. Answer me! VOGLER I do not claim to unravel the mysteries. I treasure them. As you should. OLD SALIERI (impatiently) Oh yes, yes, yes, yes, yes! Always the same stale answers! (intimately to the priest) There is no God of Mercy, Father. Just a God of torture. CUT TO: INT. SALIERI'S APARTMENT - BEDROOM - NIGHT - 1780'S Salieri sits at his desk, staring up at the cross. OLD SALIERI (V.O.) Evening came to that room. I sat there not knowing whether the girl would return or not. I prayed as I'd never prayed before. SALIERI Dear God, enter me now. Fill me with one piece of true music. One piece with your breath in it, so I know that you love me. Please. Just one. Show me one sign of your favour, and I will show mine to Mozart and his wife. I will get him the royal position, and if she comes, I'll receive her with all respect and send her home in joy. Enter me! Enter me! Please! Te imploro. Long, long silence. Salieri stares at the cross. Christ stares back at him impassively. Finally in this silence we hear a faint knocking at the door. Salieri stirs himself. A servant appears. SERVANT That lady is back, sir. SALIERI Show her in. Then go to bed. The Servant bows and leaves. We follow him through: INT. MUSIC ROOM IN SALIERI'S APARTMENT - NIGHT - 1780'S The Servant crosses it and enters: INT. SALON IN SALIERI'S APARTMENT - NIGHT - 1780'S Constanze is sitting on an upright chair, veiled as before, the portfolio of music on her lap. Through the far door leading from the hall, another servant is peering at her. The first servant joins him and shuts the door on the girl, leaving her alone. We stay with her. The clock ticks on the mantelpiece. We hear an old carriage pass in the street below. Nervously she lifts her veil and looks about her. Suddenly Salieri appears from the music room. He is pale and very tight. They regard each other. She smiles and rises to greet him, affecting a relaxed and warm manner, as if to put him at his ease. CONSTANZE Well, I'm here. My husband has gone to a concert. He didn't think I would enjoy it. A pause. CONSTANZE I do apologize for this afternoon. I behaved like a silly girl. Where shall we go? SALIERI What? CONSTANZE Should we stay here? It's a charming room. I love these candlesticks. Were they here earlier? I didn't notice them I suppose I was too nervous. As she talks, she extinguishes the candles in a pair of Venetian candelabra and subsequently other candles around the room. CONSTANZE Wolfgang was given some candlesticks by King George in England, but they were only wood. Oh, excuse me. Let's not talk about him. What do you think of this? It's real lace. Brussels. She turns and takes off her shawl. CONSTANZE Well, it's much too good for every day. I keep saying to Wolfi, don't be so extravagant. Presents are lovely, but we can't afford them. It doesn't do any good. The more I tell him, the more he spends. Oh, excuse me! There I go again. She picks up the portfolio. CONSTANZE Do you still want to look at this? Or don't we need to bother anymore? I imagine we don't, really. She looks at him inquiringly, and drops the portfolio on the floor; pages of music pour out of it. Instantly we hear a massive chord, and the great Qui Tollis from the Mass in C Minor fills the room. To its grand and weighty sound, Constanze starts to undress, watched by the horrified Salieri. Between him and her, music is an active presence, hurting and baffling him. He opens his mouth in distress. The music pounds in his head. The candle flickers over her as she removes her clothes and prepares for his embrace. Suddenly he cries out. SALIERI Go! Go! Go! He snatches up the bell and shakes it frantically, not stopping until the two servants we saw earlier appear at the door. The music stops abruptly. They stare at the appalled and frightened Constanze, who is desperately trying to cover her nakedness. SALIERI Show this woman out! Constanze hurls herself at him. CONSTANZE You shit! You shit! You rotten shit! He seizes her wrists and thrusts her back. Then he leaves the room quickly, slamming the door behind him. Constanze turns and sees the two servants goggling at her in the room. CONSTANZE What are you staring at? Wildly, she picks up the candelabrum and throws it at them. It shatters on the floor. INT. SALIERI'S APARTMENT - BEDROOM - NIGHT - 1780'S CU, Salieri standing, his eyes shut, shaking in distress. He opens them and sees Christ across the room, staring at him from the wall. OLD SALIERI (V.O.) From now on, we are enemies, You and I! CUT TO: INT. OLD SALIERI'S HOSPITAL ROOM - NIGHT - 1823 The old man is reliving the experience. Vogler looks at him, horrified. OLD SALIERI Because You will not enter me, with all my need for you; because You scorn my attempts at virtue; because You choose for Your instrument a boastful, lustful, smutty infantile boy and give me for reward only the ability to recognize the Incarnation; because You are unjust, unfair, unkind, I will block You! I swear it! I will hinder and harm Your creature on earth as far as I am able. I will ruin Your Incarnation. CUT BACK TO: INT. SALIERI'S APARTMENT - BEDROOM - NIGHT - 1780'S CU, the fireplace. In it lies the olivewood Christ on the cross, burning. OLD SALIERI (V.O.) What use after all is Man, if not to teach God His lessons? The cross flames up and disintegrates. Salieri stares at it. CUT TO: INT. MOZART'S APARTMENT - LIVING ROOM - NIGHT - 1780'S The front door bursts open. Mozart stumbles in, followed by EMMANUEL SCHIKANEDER, three young actresses, and another man, all fairly drunk. Schikaneder (who appears everywhere accompanied by young girls) is a large, fleshy, extravagant man of about thirty-five. MOZART Stanzi! Stanzi! Stanzi-Manzi! The others laugh. MOZART Sssh! SCHIKANEDER (imitating Mozart) Stanzi-Manzi-Banzi-Wanzi! MOZART Sssh! Stay here. He walks unsteadily to the bedroom door and opens it. SCHIKANEDER (to the girls, very tipsy) Sssh! You're dishgrashful! INT. MOZART'S APARTMENT - BEDROOM - NIGHT - 1780'S Constanze lies in bed, her back turned to her husband, who comes into the room and shuts the door. MOZART (playfully) Stanzi? How's my mouse? Mouse-wouse? I'm back - puss-wuss is back! She turns around abruptly. She looks dreadful; her eyes red with weeping. Mozart is shocked. MOZART Stanzi! He approaches the bed and sits on it. Immediately she starts crying again, desperately. MOZART What's the matter? What is it? Stanzi! He holds her and she clings to him in a fierce embrace, crying a flood of tears. MOZART Stop it now. Stop it. I've brought some friends to meet you. They're next door waiting. Do we have anything to eat? They're all starving. CONSTANZE Tell them to go away. I don't want to see anybody. MOZART What's the matter with you? CONSTANZE Tell them to go! MOZART Sssh. What is it? Tell me. CONSTANZE No! MOZART Yes! CONSTANZE I love you! I love you! She starts crying again, throwing her arms around his neck. CONSTANZE I love you. Please stay with me. I'm frightened. INT. THE ROYAL PALACE - DINING ROOM - DAY - 1780'S Joseph sits eating. A butler serves him goat's milk to drink. Joseph is holding a memorandum from Salieri in his hand. Salieri stands before him. JOSEPH I don't think you understand me, Court Composer. SALIERI Majesty, I did. Believe me, it was a most agonizing. decision. But finally, I simply could not recommend Herr Mozart. JOSEPH Why not? SALIERI Well, Sire, I made some inquiries in a routine way. I was curious to know why he had so few pupils. It is rather alarming. JOSEPH Oh? With a gesture Joseph dismisses the butler, who bows and leaves the room. SALIERI Majesty, I don't like to talk against a fellow musician. JOSEPH Of course not. SALIERI I have to tell you, Mozart is not entirely to be trusted alone with young ladies. JOSEPH Really? SALIERI As a matter of fact, one of my own pupils - a very young singer - told me she was - er - well! JOSEPH Yes? SALIERI Molested, Majesty. Twice, in the course of the same lesson. A pause. JOSEPH Ah-ha. Well. There it is. INT. SALIERI'S HOUSE - STAIRCASE - VIENNA - DAY - 1780'S Salieri has just returned from the palace and is coming up the staircase. He is met by his servant. SERVANT Sir, there is a Herr Mozart waiting for you in the salon. Salieri is plainly alarmed. SALIERI What does he want? SERVANT He didn't say, sir. I told him I didn't know when you would be back, but he insisted on waiting. SALIERI Come with me. And stay in the room. He mounts the stairs. INT. SALIERI'S APARTMENT - SALON - DAY - 1780'S Mozart is waiting for Salieri, holding a portfolio. Salieri approaches him nervously. Mozart stands not belligerently, but humbly. SALIERI Herr Mozart, what brings you here? MOZART Your Excellency, you requested some specimens of my work. Here they are. I don't have to tell you how much I need your help. I truly appreciate your looking at these. I have pressures on me - financial pressures. As you know, I'm a married man now. SALIERI So you are. How is your pretty wife? MOZART She is well. She is - well, actually, I'm about to become a father! She only told me last night. You are the first to know. SALIERI I'm flattered. And congratulations to you, of course. MOZART So you see, this post is very important to me right now. Salieri looks at him in distress. SALIERI Why didn't you come to me yesterday, Mozart? This is a most painful situation. Yesterday I could have helped you. Today, I can't. MOZART Why? Here is the music. It's here. I am submitting it humbly. Isn't that what you wanted? SALIERI I have just come from the palace. The post has been filled. MOZART Filled? That's impossible! They haven't even seen my work. I need this post. Please, can't you help me? Please! SALIERI My dear Mozart, there is no one in the world I would rather help, but now it is too late. MOZART Whom did they choose? SALIERI Herr Sommer. MOZART Sommer? Herr Sommer? But the man's a fool! He's a total mediocrity. SALIERI No, no, no: he has yet to achieve mediocrity. MOZART But I can't lose this post, I simply can't! Excellency, please. Let's go to the palace, and you can explain to the Emperor that Herr Sommer is an awful choice. He could actually do musical harm to the Princess! SALIERI An implausible idea. Between you and me, no one in the world could do musical harm to the Princess Elizabeth. Mozart chuckles delightedly. Salieri offers him a glass of white dessert and a spoon. Mozart takes it absently and goes on talking. MOZART Look, I must have pupils. Without pupils I can't manage. SALIERI You don't mean to tell me you are living in poverty? MOZART No, but I'm broke. I'm always broke. I don't know why. SALIERI It has been said, my friend, that you are inclined to live somewhat above your means. MOZART How can anyone say that? We have no cook, no maid. We have no footman. Nothing at all! SALIERI How is that possible? You give concerts, don't you? I hear they are quite successful. MOZART They're stupendously successful. You can't get a seat. The only problem is none will hire me. They all want to hear me play, but they won't let me teach their daughters. As if I was some kind of fiend. I'm not a fiend! SALIERI Of course not. MOZART Do you have a daughter? SALIERI I'm afraid not. MOZART Well, could you lend me some money till you have one?

jupelle

How many times the word 'jupelle' appears in the text?

All the same, why him? Why use Mozart to teach me lessons in humility? My heart was filling up with such hatred for that little man. For the first time in my life I began to know really violent thoughts. I couldn't stop them. VOGLER Did you try? OLD SALIERI Every day. Sometimes for hours I would pray! INT. SALIERI'S APARTMENT - BEDROOM - DAY - 1780'S The young Salieri is kneeling in desperation before the Cross. SALIERI Please! Please! Send him away, back to Salzburg. For his sake as well as mine. CU, Christ staring from the Cross. CUT BACK TO: INT. AUDIENCE HALL - ARCHBISHOP'S PALACE - SALZBURG - DAY - 1780'S We see Leopold kneeling now not to the Cross but to Archbishop Colloredo, sitting impassively on his throne. Count Arco stands beside him. Leopold is a desperate, once-handsome man of sixty, now far too much the subservient courtier. COLLOREDO No! I won't have him back. LEOPOLD But he needs to be here in Salzburg, Your Grace. He needs me and he needs you. Your protection, your understanding. COLLOREDO Hardly. LEOPOLD Oh sir, yes! He's about to make the worst mistake of his life. Some little Viennese slut is trying to trick him into marriage. I know my son. He is too simple to see the trap - and there is no one there who really cares for him. COLLOREDO I'm not surprised. Money seems to be more important to him than loyalty or friendship. He has sold himself to Vienna. Let Vienna look out for him. LEOPOLD Sir - COLLOREDO Your son is an unprincipled, spoiled, conceited brat. LEOPOLD Yes, sir, that's the truth. But don't blame him. The fault is mine. I was too indulgent with him. But not again. Never again, I promise! I implore you - let me bring him back here. I'll make him give his word to serve you faithfully. COLLOREDO And how will you make him keep it? LEOPOLD Oh, sir, he's never disobeyed me in anything. Please, Your Grace, give him one more chance. COLLOREDO You have leave to try. LEOPOLD Oh, Your Grace - I thank Your Grace! I thank you! In deepest gratitude he kisses the Archbishop's hand. He motions Leopold to rise. We hear the first dark fortissimo chord which begins the Overture to Don Giovanni: the theme associated with the character of the Commendatore. LEOPOLD (V.O.) My dear son. The second fortissimo chord sounds. INT. A BAROQUE CHURCH - DAY - 1780'S We see a huge CU, of Mozart's head, looking front and down, as if reading his father's letter. We hear Leopold's voice over this image, no longer whining and anxious, but impressive. LEOPOLD (V.O.) I write to you with urgent news. I am coming to Vienna. Take no further steps toward marriage until we meet. You are too gullible to see your own danger. As you honour the father who has devoted his entire life to yours, do as I bid, and await my coming. MOZART I will. The camera pulls back to see that he is in fact kneeling beside Constanze. A PRIEST faces them. Behind them are Madame Weber, Josefa and Sophie Weber, and a very few others. Among them, a merry looking lady in bright clothes: the BARONESS WALDSTADTEN. PRIEST And will you, Constanze Weber, take this man, Wolfgang to be your lawful husband? CONSTANZE I will. PRIEST I now pronounce you man and wife. The opening kyrie of the great Mass in C Minor is heard. Mozart and Constanze kiss. They are in tears. Madame Weber and her daughters look on approvingly. The music swells and continues under the following: INT. A ROOM IN LEOPOLD'S HOUSE - SALZBURG - NIGHT - 1780'S There is a view of a castle in background. Leopold sits alone in his room. He is reading a letter from Wolfgang. At his feet are his trunks, half-packed for the journey he will not now take. We hear Mozart's voice reading the following letter and we see, as the camera roves around the room, mementos of the young prodigy's early life: the little forte-piano made for him; the little violin made for him; an Order presented to him. We see a little starling in a wicker cage. And we see portraits of the boy on the walls, concluding with the familiar family portrait of Wolfgang and his sister Nannerl seated at the keyboard with Leopold standing, and the picture of their mother on the wall behind them. MOZART (V.O.) Most beloved father, it is done. Do not blame me that I did not wait to see your dear face. I knew you would have tried to dissuade me from my truest happiness and I could not have borne it. Your every word is precious to me. Remember how you have always told me Vienna is the City of Musicians. To conquer here is to conquer Europe! With my wife I can do it. I vow I will become regular in my habits and productive as never before. She is wonderful, Papa, and I know that you will love her. And one day soon when I am a wealthy man, you will come and live with us, and we will be so happy. I long for that day, best of Papas, and kiss your hand a hundred thousand times. The music of the Mass fades as Leopold crumples the letter in his hand. EXT. THE IMPERIAL GARDENS - VIENNA - DAY - 1780'S Salieri stands waiting, hat in hand. Beside him stands a royal servant. Behind him, gardeners are glimpsed tending the shrubs and bushes along a grassy ride. Down this ride are seen cantering two people on horseback: the Emperor Joseph and his niece, the PRINCESS ELIZABETH. They are mounted on glossy horses. The Princess rides side-saddle. Running beside her is a panting groom. The Emperor rides elegantly; his niece, a dumpy little Hapsburg girl of sixteen, like a sack of potatoes. As they draw level with Salieri they stop, and the groom holds the head of the Princess' horse. Salieri bows respectfully. JOSEPH Good morning, Court Composer. This is my niece, the Princess Elizabeth. SALIERI Your Highness. Out of breath, the Princess nods nervously. JOSEPH She has asked me to advise her on a suitable musical instructor. I think I've come up with an excellent idea. He smiles at Salieri. SALIERI Oh, Your Majesty, it would be such a tremendous honour! JOSEPH I'm thinking about Herr Mozart. What is your view? Salieri's face falls, almost imperceptibly. SALIERI An interesting idea, Majesty. But - JOSEPH Yes? SALIERI You already commissioned an opera from Mozart. JOSEPH And the result satisfies. SALIERI Yes, of course. My concern is to protect you from any suspicion of favouritism. JOSEPH Ah-ha. Favouritism. But I so want Mozart. SALIERI I'm sure there is a way, Majesty. Some kind of a little contest. I could perhaps put together a small Committee, and I could see to it naturally that it will select according to Your Majesty's wishes. JOSEPH You please me, Court Composer. A very clever idea. SALIERI (bowing) Sire. JOSEPH Well. There it is. He rides on. The groom releases her horse's head, and runs on after the Princess. CUT TO: INT. CHAMBERLAIN VON STRACK'S STUDY - DAY - 1780'S Von Strack sits stiffly behind his gilded desk. Mozart stands before him, trembling with anger. MOZART What is this, Herr Chamberlain? VON STRACK What is what? MOZART Why do I have to submit samples of my work to some stupid committee? Just to teach a sixteen-year-old girl. VON STRACK Because His Majesty wishes it. MOZART Is the Emperor angry with me? VON STRACK On the contrary. MOZART Then why doesn't he simply appoint me to the post? VON STRACK Mozart, you are not the only composer in Vienna. MOZART No, but I'm the best. VON STRACK A little modesty would suit you better. MOZART Who is on this committee? VON STRACK Kapellmeister Bonno, Count Orsini- Rosenberg and Court Composer Salieri. MOZART Naturally, the Italians! Of course! Always the Italians! VON STRACK Mozart - MOZART They hate my music. It terrifies them. The only sound Italians understand is banality. Tonic and dominant, tonic and dominant, from here to Resurrection! (singing angrily) Ba-ba! Ba-ba! Ba-ba! Ba-ba! Anything else is morbid. VON STRACK Mozart - MOZART Show them one interesting modulation and they faint. Ohime! Morbidezza! Morbidezza! Italians are musical idiots and you want them to judge my music! VON STRACK Look, young man, the issue is simple. If you want this post, you must submit your stuff in the same way as all your colleagues. MOZART Must I? Well, I won't! I tell you straight: I will not! CUT TO: INT. MOZART'S APARTMENT - BEDROOM - VIENNA - DAY - 1780'S The room is very small and untidy. Constanze is marching up and down it, upset. Mozart is lying on the bed. CONSTANZE I think you're mad! You're really mad! MOZART Oh, leave me alone. CONSTANZE One royal pupil and the whole of Vienna will come flocking. We'd be set up for life! MOZART They'll come anyway. They love me here. CONSTANZE No, they will not. I know how things work in this city. MOZART Oh yes? You always know everything. CONSTANZE Well, I'm not borrowing any more money from my mother, and that's that! MOZART You borrowed money from your mother? CONSTANZE Yes! MOZART Well, don't do that again! CONSTANZE How are we going to live, Wolfi? Do you want me to go into the streets and beg? MOZART Don't be stupid. CONSTANZE All they want to see is your work. What's wrong with that? MOZART Shut up! Just shut up! I don't need them. CONSTANZE This isn't pride. It's sheer stupidity! She glares at him, almost in tears. CUT TO: INT. SALIERI'S MUSIC ROOM - LATE AFTERNOON - 1780'S Salieri is giving a lesson to a girl student, who is singing the Italian art song, Caro Mio Ben. There is a knock on the door. SALIERI Yes. A SERVANT enters. SERVANT Excuse me, sir, there is a lady who insists on talking to you. SALIERI Who is she? SERVANT She didn't say. But she says it's urgent. SALIERI (to the pupil) Excuse me, my dear. Salieri goes into the salon. CUT TO: INT. THE SALON - LATE AFTERNOON - 1780'S Constanze stands, closely veiled, holding a portfolio stuffed with manuscripts. The singing lesson ends, with two chords on the instrument. Salieri enters the salon. Constanze drops him a shy curtsey. CONSTANZE Excellency! SALIERI Madame. How can I help you? Shyly, she unveils. SALIERI Frau Mozart? CONSTANZE That's right, Your Excellency. I've come on behalf of my hus band. I'm - I'm bringing some samples of his work so he can be considered for the royal appointment. SALIERI How charming. But why did he not come himself? CONSTANZE He's terribly busy, sir. SALIERI I understand. He takes the portfolio and puts it on a table. SALIERI I will look at them, of course, the moment I can. It will be an honour. Please give him my warmest. CONSTANZE Would it be too much trouble, sir, to ask you to look at them now? While I wait. SALIERI I'm afraid I'm not at leisure this very moment. Just leave them with me. I assure you they will be quite safe. CONSTANZE I - I really cannot do that, Your Excellency. You see, he doesn't know I'm here. SALIERI Really? CONSTANZE My husband is a proud man, sir. He would be furious if he knew I'd come. SALIERI Then he didn't send you? CONSTANZE No, sir. This is my own idea. SALIERI I see. CONSTANZE Sir, we really need this job. We're desperate. My husband spends far more than he can ever earn. I don't mean he's lazy - he's not at all - he works all day long. It's just! he's not practical. Money simply slips through his fingers, it's really ridiculous, Your Excellency. I know you help musicians. You're famous for it. Give him just this one post. We'd be forever indebted! A short pause. SALIERI Let me offer you some refreshment. Do you know what these are? He indicates a dish piled high with glazed chestnuts. SALIERI Cappezzoli di Venere. Nipples of Venus. Roman chestnuts in brandied sugar. Won't you try one? They're quite surprising. He offers her the dish. She takes one and puts it in her mouth. He watches carefully. CONSTANZE Oh! They're wonderful. He takes one himself. We notice on his finger a heavy gold signet-ring. CONSTANZE Thank you very much, Your Excellency. SALIERI Don't keep calling me that. It puts me at such a distance. I was not born a Court Composer, you know. I'm from a small town, just like your husband. He smiles at her. She takes another chestnut. SALIERI Are you sure you can't leave that music, and come back again? I have other things you might like. CONSTANZE That's very tempting, but it's impossible, I'm afraid. Wolfi would be frantic if he found those were missing. You see, they're all originals. SALIERI Originals? CONSTANZE Yes. A pause. He puts out his hand and takes up the portfolio from the table. He opens it. He looks at the music. He is puzzled. SALIERI These are originals? CONSTANZE Yes, sir. He doesn't make copies. CUT TO: INT. OLD SALIERI'S HOSPITAL ROOM - NIGHT - 1823 The old man faces the Priest. OLD SALIERI Astounding! It was actually beyond belief. These were first and only drafts of music yet they showed no corrections of any kind. Not one. Do you realize what that meant? Vogler stares at him. OLD SALIERI He'd simply put down music already finished in his head. Page after page of it, as if he was just taking dictation. And music finished as no music is ever finished. INT. SALIERI'S SALON - LATE AFTERNOON - 1780'S CU, The manuscript in Mozart's handwriting. The music begins to sound under the following: OLD SALIERI (V.O.) Displace one note and there would be diminishment. Displace one phrase, and the structure would fall. It was clear to me. That sound I had heard in the Archbishop's palace had been no accident. Here again was the very voice of God! I was staring through the cage of those meticulous ink- strokes at an absolute, inimitable beauty. The music swells. What we now hear is an amazing collage of great passages from Mozart's music, ravishing to Salieri and to us. The Court Composer, oblivious to Constanze, who sits happily chewing chestnuts, her mouth covered in sugar, walks around and around his salon, reading the pages and dropping them on the floor when he is done with them. We see his agonized and wondering face: he shudders as if in a rough and tumbling sea; he experiences the point where beauty and great pain coalesce. More pages fall than he can read, scattering across the floor in a white cascade, as he circles the room. Finally, we hear the tremendous Qui Tollis from the Mass in C Minor. It seems to break over him like a wave and, unable to bear any more of it, he slams the portfolio shut. Instantly, the music breaks off, reverberating in his head. He stands shaking, staring wildly. Constanze gets up, perplexed. CONSTANZE Is it no good? A pause. SALIERI It is miraculous. CONSTANZE Oh yes. He's really proud of his work. Another pause. CONSTANZE So, will you help him? Salieri tries to recover himself. SALIERI Tomorrow night I dine with the Emperor. One word from me and the post is his. CONSTANZE Oh, thank you, sir! Overjoyed, she stops and kisses his hand. He raises her - and then clasps her to him clumsily. She pushes herself away. SALIERI Come back tonight. CONSTANZE Tonight? SALIERI Alone. CONSTANZE What for? SALIERI Some service deserves service in return. No? CONSTANZE What do you mean? SALIERI Isn't it obvious? They stare at one another: Constanze in total disbelief. SALIERI It's a post all Vienna seeks. If you want it for your husband, come tonight. CONSTANZE But! I'm a married woman! SALIERI Then don't. It's up to you. Not to be vague, that is the price. He glares at her. SALIERI Yes. He rings a silver bell for a servant and abruptly leaves the roam. Constanze stares after him, horrified. The servant enters. Shocked and stunned, Constanze goes down an her knees and starts picking up the music from the floor. CUT TO: INT. OLD SALIERI'S HOSPITAL ROOM - NIGHT - 1823 CU, Father Vogler, horrified. OLD SALIERI Yes, Father. Yes! So much for my vow of chastity. What did it matter? Good, patient, hard-working, chaste - what did it matter? Had goodness made me a good composer? I realized it absolutely then - that moment: goodness is nothing in the furnace of art. And I was nothing to God. VOGLER (crying out) You cannot say that! OLD SALIERI No? Was Mozart a good man? VOGLER God's ways are not yours. And you are not here to question Him. Offer him the salt of penitence. He will give you back the bread of eternal life. He is all merciful. That is all you need to know. OLD SALIERI All I ever wanted was to sing to Him. That's His doing, isn't it? He gave me that longing - then made me mute. Why? Tell me that. If He didn't want me to serve Him with music, why implant the desire, like a lust in my body, then deny me the talent? Go on, tell me! Speak for Him! VOGLER My son, no one can speak for God. OLD SALIERI Oh? I thought you did so every day. So speak now. Answer me! VOGLER I do not claim to unravel the mysteries. I treasure them. As you should. OLD SALIERI (impatiently) Oh yes, yes, yes, yes, yes! Always the same stale answers! (intimately to the priest) There is no God of Mercy, Father. Just a God of torture. CUT TO: INT. SALIERI'S APARTMENT - BEDROOM - NIGHT - 1780'S Salieri sits at his desk, staring up at the cross. OLD SALIERI (V.O.) Evening came to that room. I sat there not knowing whether the girl would return or not. I prayed as I'd never prayed before. SALIERI Dear God, enter me now. Fill me with one piece of true music. One piece with your breath in it, so I know that you love me. Please. Just one. Show me one sign of your favour, and I will show mine to Mozart and his wife. I will get him the royal position, and if she comes, I'll receive her with all respect and send her home in joy. Enter me! Enter me! Please! Te imploro. Long, long silence. Salieri stares at the cross. Christ stares back at him impassively. Finally in this silence we hear a faint knocking at the door. Salieri stirs himself. A servant appears. SERVANT That lady is back, sir. SALIERI Show her in. Then go to bed. The Servant bows and leaves. We follow him through: INT. MUSIC ROOM IN SALIERI'S APARTMENT - NIGHT - 1780'S The Servant crosses it and enters: INT. SALON IN SALIERI'S APARTMENT - NIGHT - 1780'S Constanze is sitting on an upright chair, veiled as before, the portfolio of music on her lap. Through the far door leading from the hall, another servant is peering at her. The first servant joins him and shuts the door on the girl, leaving her alone. We stay with her. The clock ticks on the mantelpiece. We hear an old carriage pass in the street below. Nervously she lifts her veil and looks about her. Suddenly Salieri appears from the music room. He is pale and very tight. They regard each other. She smiles and rises to greet him, affecting a relaxed and warm manner, as if to put him at his ease. CONSTANZE Well, I'm here. My husband has gone to a concert. He didn't think I would enjoy it. A pause. CONSTANZE I do apologize for this afternoon. I behaved like a silly girl. Where shall we go? SALIERI What? CONSTANZE Should we stay here? It's a charming room. I love these candlesticks. Were they here earlier? I didn't notice them I suppose I was too nervous. As she talks, she extinguishes the candles in a pair of Venetian candelabra and subsequently other candles around the room. CONSTANZE Wolfgang was given some candlesticks by King George in England, but they were only wood. Oh, excuse me. Let's not talk about him. What do you think of this? It's real lace. Brussels. She turns and takes off her shawl. CONSTANZE Well, it's much too good for every day. I keep saying to Wolfi, don't be so extravagant. Presents are lovely, but we can't afford them. It doesn't do any good. The more I tell him, the more he spends. Oh, excuse me! There I go again. She picks up the portfolio. CONSTANZE Do you still want to look at this? Or don't we need to bother anymore? I imagine we don't, really. She looks at him inquiringly, and drops the portfolio on the floor; pages of music pour out of it. Instantly we hear a massive chord, and the great Qui Tollis from the Mass in C Minor fills the room. To its grand and weighty sound, Constanze starts to undress, watched by the horrified Salieri. Between him and her, music is an active presence, hurting and baffling him. He opens his mouth in distress. The music pounds in his head. The candle flickers over her as she removes her clothes and prepares for his embrace. Suddenly he cries out. SALIERI Go! Go! Go! He snatches up the bell and shakes it frantically, not stopping until the two servants we saw earlier appear at the door. The music stops abruptly. They stare at the appalled and frightened Constanze, who is desperately trying to cover her nakedness. SALIERI Show this woman out! Constanze hurls herself at him. CONSTANZE You shit! You shit! You rotten shit! He seizes her wrists and thrusts her back. Then he leaves the room quickly, slamming the door behind him. Constanze turns and sees the two servants goggling at her in the room. CONSTANZE What are you staring at? Wildly, she picks up the candelabrum and throws it at them. It shatters on the floor. INT. SALIERI'S APARTMENT - BEDROOM - NIGHT - 1780'S CU, Salieri standing, his eyes shut, shaking in distress. He opens them and sees Christ across the room, staring at him from the wall. OLD SALIERI (V.O.) From now on, we are enemies, You and I! CUT TO: INT. OLD SALIERI'S HOSPITAL ROOM - NIGHT - 1823 The old man is reliving the experience. Vogler looks at him, horrified. OLD SALIERI Because You will not enter me, with all my need for you; because You scorn my attempts at virtue; because You choose for Your instrument a boastful, lustful, smutty infantile boy and give me for reward only the ability to recognize the Incarnation; because You are unjust, unfair, unkind, I will block You! I swear it! I will hinder and harm Your creature on earth as far as I am able. I will ruin Your Incarnation. CUT BACK TO: INT. SALIERI'S APARTMENT - BEDROOM - NIGHT - 1780'S CU, the fireplace. In it lies the olivewood Christ on the cross, burning. OLD SALIERI (V.O.) What use after all is Man, if not to teach God His lessons? The cross flames up and disintegrates. Salieri stares at it. CUT TO: INT. MOZART'S APARTMENT - LIVING ROOM - NIGHT - 1780'S The front door bursts open. Mozart stumbles in, followed by EMMANUEL SCHIKANEDER, three young actresses, and another man, all fairly drunk. Schikaneder (who appears everywhere accompanied by young girls) is a large, fleshy, extravagant man of about thirty-five. MOZART Stanzi! Stanzi! Stanzi-Manzi! The others laugh. MOZART Sssh! SCHIKANEDER (imitating Mozart) Stanzi-Manzi-Banzi-Wanzi! MOZART Sssh! Stay here. He walks unsteadily to the bedroom door and opens it. SCHIKANEDER (to the girls, very tipsy) Sssh! You're dishgrashful! INT. MOZART'S APARTMENT - BEDROOM - NIGHT - 1780'S Constanze lies in bed, her back turned to her husband, who comes into the room and shuts the door. MOZART (playfully) Stanzi? How's my mouse? Mouse-wouse? I'm back - puss-wuss is back! She turns around abruptly. She looks dreadful; her eyes red with weeping. Mozart is shocked. MOZART Stanzi! He approaches the bed and sits on it. Immediately she starts crying again, desperately. MOZART What's the matter? What is it? Stanzi! He holds her and she clings to him in a fierce embrace, crying a flood of tears. MOZART Stop it now. Stop it. I've brought some friends to meet you. They're next door waiting. Do we have anything to eat? They're all starving. CONSTANZE Tell them to go away. I don't want to see anybody. MOZART What's the matter with you? CONSTANZE Tell them to go! MOZART Sssh. What is it? Tell me. CONSTANZE No! MOZART Yes! CONSTANZE I love you! I love you! She starts crying again, throwing her arms around his neck. CONSTANZE I love you. Please stay with me. I'm frightened. INT. THE ROYAL PALACE - DINING ROOM - DAY - 1780'S Joseph sits eating. A butler serves him goat's milk to drink. Joseph is holding a memorandum from Salieri in his hand. Salieri stands before him. JOSEPH I don't think you understand me, Court Composer. SALIERI Majesty, I did. Believe me, it was a most agonizing. decision. But finally, I simply could not recommend Herr Mozart. JOSEPH Why not? SALIERI Well, Sire, I made some inquiries in a routine way. I was curious to know why he had so few pupils. It is rather alarming. JOSEPH Oh? With a gesture Joseph dismisses the butler, who bows and leaves the room. SALIERI Majesty, I don't like to talk against a fellow musician. JOSEPH Of course not. SALIERI I have to tell you, Mozart is not entirely to be trusted alone with young ladies. JOSEPH Really? SALIERI As a matter of fact, one of my own pupils - a very young singer - told me she was - er - well! JOSEPH Yes? SALIERI Molested, Majesty. Twice, in the course of the same lesson. A pause. JOSEPH Ah-ha. Well. There it is. INT. SALIERI'S HOUSE - STAIRCASE - VIENNA - DAY - 1780'S Salieri has just returned from the palace and is coming up the staircase. He is met by his servant. SERVANT Sir, there is a Herr Mozart waiting for you in the salon. Salieri is plainly alarmed. SALIERI What does he want? SERVANT He didn't say, sir. I told him I didn't know when you would be back, but he insisted on waiting. SALIERI Come with me. And stay in the room. He mounts the stairs. INT. SALIERI'S APARTMENT - SALON - DAY - 1780'S Mozart is waiting for Salieri, holding a portfolio. Salieri approaches him nervously. Mozart stands not belligerently, but humbly. SALIERI Herr Mozart, what brings you here? MOZART Your Excellency, you requested some specimens of my work. Here they are. I don't have to tell you how much I need your help. I truly appreciate your looking at these. I have pressures on me - financial pressures. As you know, I'm a married man now. SALIERI So you are. How is your pretty wife? MOZART She is well. She is - well, actually, I'm about to become a father! She only told me last night. You are the first to know. SALIERI I'm flattered. And congratulations to you, of course. MOZART So you see, this post is very important to me right now. Salieri looks at him in distress. SALIERI Why didn't you come to me yesterday, Mozart? This is a most painful situation. Yesterday I could have helped you. Today, I can't. MOZART Why? Here is the music. It's here. I am submitting it humbly. Isn't that what you wanted? SALIERI I have just come from the palace. The post has been filled. MOZART Filled? That's impossible! They haven't even seen my work. I need this post. Please, can't you help me? Please! SALIERI My dear Mozart, there is no one in the world I would rather help, but now it is too late. MOZART Whom did they choose? SALIERI Herr Sommer. MOZART Sommer? Herr Sommer? But the man's a fool! He's a total mediocrity. SALIERI No, no, no: he has yet to achieve mediocrity. MOZART But I can't lose this post, I simply can't! Excellency, please. Let's go to the palace, and you can explain to the Emperor that Herr Sommer is an awful choice. He could actually do musical harm to the Princess! SALIERI An implausible idea. Between you and me, no one in the world could do musical harm to the Princess Elizabeth. Mozart chuckles delightedly. Salieri offers him a glass of white dessert and a spoon. Mozart takes it absently and goes on talking. MOZART Look, I must have pupils. Without pupils I can't manage. SALIERI You don't mean to tell me you are living in poverty? MOZART No, but I'm broke. I'm always broke. I don't know why. SALIERI It has been said, my friend, that you are inclined to live somewhat above your means. MOZART How can anyone say that? We have no cook, no maid. We have no footman. Nothing at all! SALIERI How is that possible? You give concerts, don't you? I hear they are quite successful. MOZART They're stupendously successful. You can't get a seat. The only problem is none will hire me. They all want to hear me play, but they won't let me teach their daughters. As if I was some kind of fiend. I'm not a fiend! SALIERI Of course not. MOZART Do you have a daughter? SALIERI I'm afraid not. MOZART Well, could you lend me some money till you have one?

look

How many times the word 'look' appears in the text?

All the same, why him? Why use Mozart to teach me lessons in humility? My heart was filling up with such hatred for that little man. For the first time in my life I began to know really violent thoughts. I couldn't stop them. VOGLER Did you try? OLD SALIERI Every day. Sometimes for hours I would pray! INT. SALIERI'S APARTMENT - BEDROOM - DAY - 1780'S The young Salieri is kneeling in desperation before the Cross. SALIERI Please! Please! Send him away, back to Salzburg. For his sake as well as mine. CU, Christ staring from the Cross. CUT BACK TO: INT. AUDIENCE HALL - ARCHBISHOP'S PALACE - SALZBURG - DAY - 1780'S We see Leopold kneeling now not to the Cross but to Archbishop Colloredo, sitting impassively on his throne. Count Arco stands beside him. Leopold is a desperate, once-handsome man of sixty, now far too much the subservient courtier. COLLOREDO No! I won't have him back. LEOPOLD But he needs to be here in Salzburg, Your Grace. He needs me and he needs you. Your protection, your understanding. COLLOREDO Hardly. LEOPOLD Oh sir, yes! He's about to make the worst mistake of his life. Some little Viennese slut is trying to trick him into marriage. I know my son. He is too simple to see the trap - and there is no one there who really cares for him. COLLOREDO I'm not surprised. Money seems to be more important to him than loyalty or friendship. He has sold himself to Vienna. Let Vienna look out for him. LEOPOLD Sir - COLLOREDO Your son is an unprincipled, spoiled, conceited brat. LEOPOLD Yes, sir, that's the truth. But don't blame him. The fault is mine. I was too indulgent with him. But not again. Never again, I promise! I implore you - let me bring him back here. I'll make him give his word to serve you faithfully. COLLOREDO And how will you make him keep it? LEOPOLD Oh, sir, he's never disobeyed me in anything. Please, Your Grace, give him one more chance. COLLOREDO You have leave to try. LEOPOLD Oh, Your Grace - I thank Your Grace! I thank you! In deepest gratitude he kisses the Archbishop's hand. He motions Leopold to rise. We hear the first dark fortissimo chord which begins the Overture to Don Giovanni: the theme associated with the character of the Commendatore. LEOPOLD (V.O.) My dear son. The second fortissimo chord sounds. INT. A BAROQUE CHURCH - DAY - 1780'S We see a huge CU, of Mozart's head, looking front and down, as if reading his father's letter. We hear Leopold's voice over this image, no longer whining and anxious, but impressive. LEOPOLD (V.O.) I write to you with urgent news. I am coming to Vienna. Take no further steps toward marriage until we meet. You are too gullible to see your own danger. As you honour the father who has devoted his entire life to yours, do as I bid, and await my coming. MOZART I will. The camera pulls back to see that he is in fact kneeling beside Constanze. A PRIEST faces them. Behind them are Madame Weber, Josefa and Sophie Weber, and a very few others. Among them, a merry looking lady in bright clothes: the BARONESS WALDSTADTEN. PRIEST And will you, Constanze Weber, take this man, Wolfgang to be your lawful husband? CONSTANZE I will. PRIEST I now pronounce you man and wife. The opening kyrie of the great Mass in C Minor is heard. Mozart and Constanze kiss. They are in tears. Madame Weber and her daughters look on approvingly. The music swells and continues under the following: INT. A ROOM IN LEOPOLD'S HOUSE - SALZBURG - NIGHT - 1780'S There is a view of a castle in background. Leopold sits alone in his room. He is reading a letter from Wolfgang. At his feet are his trunks, half-packed for the journey he will not now take. We hear Mozart's voice reading the following letter and we see, as the camera roves around the room, mementos of the young prodigy's early life: the little forte-piano made for him; the little violin made for him; an Order presented to him. We see a little starling in a wicker cage. And we see portraits of the boy on the walls, concluding with the familiar family portrait of Wolfgang and his sister Nannerl seated at the keyboard with Leopold standing, and the picture of their mother on the wall behind them. MOZART (V.O.) Most beloved father, it is done. Do not blame me that I did not wait to see your dear face. I knew you would have tried to dissuade me from my truest happiness and I could not have borne it. Your every word is precious to me. Remember how you have always told me Vienna is the City of Musicians. To conquer here is to conquer Europe! With my wife I can do it. I vow I will become regular in my habits and productive as never before. She is wonderful, Papa, and I know that you will love her. And one day soon when I am a wealthy man, you will come and live with us, and we will be so happy. I long for that day, best of Papas, and kiss your hand a hundred thousand times. The music of the Mass fades as Leopold crumples the letter in his hand. EXT. THE IMPERIAL GARDENS - VIENNA - DAY - 1780'S Salieri stands waiting, hat in hand. Beside him stands a royal servant. Behind him, gardeners are glimpsed tending the shrubs and bushes along a grassy ride. Down this ride are seen cantering two people on horseback: the Emperor Joseph and his niece, the PRINCESS ELIZABETH. They are mounted on glossy horses. The Princess rides side-saddle. Running beside her is a panting groom. The Emperor rides elegantly; his niece, a dumpy little Hapsburg girl of sixteen, like a sack of potatoes. As they draw level with Salieri they stop, and the groom holds the head of the Princess' horse. Salieri bows respectfully. JOSEPH Good morning, Court Composer. This is my niece, the Princess Elizabeth. SALIERI Your Highness. Out of breath, the Princess nods nervously. JOSEPH She has asked me to advise her on a suitable musical instructor. I think I've come up with an excellent idea. He smiles at Salieri. SALIERI Oh, Your Majesty, it would be such a tremendous honour! JOSEPH I'm thinking about Herr Mozart. What is your view? Salieri's face falls, almost imperceptibly. SALIERI An interesting idea, Majesty. But - JOSEPH Yes? SALIERI You already commissioned an opera from Mozart. JOSEPH And the result satisfies. SALIERI Yes, of course. My concern is to protect you from any suspicion of favouritism. JOSEPH Ah-ha. Favouritism. But I so want Mozart. SALIERI I'm sure there is a way, Majesty. Some kind of a little contest. I could perhaps put together a small Committee, and I could see to it naturally that it will select according to Your Majesty's wishes. JOSEPH You please me, Court Composer. A very clever idea. SALIERI (bowing) Sire. JOSEPH Well. There it is. He rides on. The groom releases her horse's head, and runs on after the Princess. CUT TO: INT. CHAMBERLAIN VON STRACK'S STUDY - DAY - 1780'S Von Strack sits stiffly behind his gilded desk. Mozart stands before him, trembling with anger. MOZART What is this, Herr Chamberlain? VON STRACK What is what? MOZART Why do I have to submit samples of my work to some stupid committee? Just to teach a sixteen-year-old girl. VON STRACK Because His Majesty wishes it. MOZART Is the Emperor angry with me? VON STRACK On the contrary. MOZART Then why doesn't he simply appoint me to the post? VON STRACK Mozart, you are not the only composer in Vienna. MOZART No, but I'm the best. VON STRACK A little modesty would suit you better. MOZART Who is on this committee? VON STRACK Kapellmeister Bonno, Count Orsini- Rosenberg and Court Composer Salieri. MOZART Naturally, the Italians! Of course! Always the Italians! VON STRACK Mozart - MOZART They hate my music. It terrifies them. The only sound Italians understand is banality. Tonic and dominant, tonic and dominant, from here to Resurrection! (singing angrily) Ba-ba! Ba-ba! Ba-ba! Ba-ba! Anything else is morbid. VON STRACK Mozart - MOZART Show them one interesting modulation and they faint. Ohime! Morbidezza! Morbidezza! Italians are musical idiots and you want them to judge my music! VON STRACK Look, young man, the issue is simple. If you want this post, you must submit your stuff in the same way as all your colleagues. MOZART Must I? Well, I won't! I tell you straight: I will not! CUT TO: INT. MOZART'S APARTMENT - BEDROOM - VIENNA - DAY - 1780'S The room is very small and untidy. Constanze is marching up and down it, upset. Mozart is lying on the bed. CONSTANZE I think you're mad! You're really mad! MOZART Oh, leave me alone. CONSTANZE One royal pupil and the whole of Vienna will come flocking. We'd be set up for life! MOZART They'll come anyway. They love me here. CONSTANZE No, they will not. I know how things work in this city. MOZART Oh yes? You always know everything. CONSTANZE Well, I'm not borrowing any more money from my mother, and that's that! MOZART You borrowed money from your mother? CONSTANZE Yes! MOZART Well, don't do that again! CONSTANZE How are we going to live, Wolfi? Do you want me to go into the streets and beg? MOZART Don't be stupid. CONSTANZE All they want to see is your work. What's wrong with that? MOZART Shut up! Just shut up! I don't need them. CONSTANZE This isn't pride. It's sheer stupidity! She glares at him, almost in tears. CUT TO: INT. SALIERI'S MUSIC ROOM - LATE AFTERNOON - 1780'S Salieri is giving a lesson to a girl student, who is singing the Italian art song, Caro Mio Ben. There is a knock on the door. SALIERI Yes. A SERVANT enters. SERVANT Excuse me, sir, there is a lady who insists on talking to you. SALIERI Who is she? SERVANT She didn't say. But she says it's urgent. SALIERI (to the pupil) Excuse me, my dear. Salieri goes into the salon. CUT TO: INT. THE SALON - LATE AFTERNOON - 1780'S Constanze stands, closely veiled, holding a portfolio stuffed with manuscripts. The singing lesson ends, with two chords on the instrument. Salieri enters the salon. Constanze drops him a shy curtsey. CONSTANZE Excellency! SALIERI Madame. How can I help you? Shyly, she unveils. SALIERI Frau Mozart? CONSTANZE That's right, Your Excellency. I've come on behalf of my hus band. I'm - I'm bringing some samples of his work so he can be considered for the royal appointment. SALIERI How charming. But why did he not come himself? CONSTANZE He's terribly busy, sir. SALIERI I understand. He takes the portfolio and puts it on a table. SALIERI I will look at them, of course, the moment I can. It will be an honour. Please give him my warmest. CONSTANZE Would it be too much trouble, sir, to ask you to look at them now? While I wait. SALIERI I'm afraid I'm not at leisure this very moment. Just leave them with me. I assure you they will be quite safe. CONSTANZE I - I really cannot do that, Your Excellency. You see, he doesn't know I'm here. SALIERI Really? CONSTANZE My husband is a proud man, sir. He would be furious if he knew I'd come. SALIERI Then he didn't send you? CONSTANZE No, sir. This is my own idea. SALIERI I see. CONSTANZE Sir, we really need this job. We're desperate. My husband spends far more than he can ever earn. I don't mean he's lazy - he's not at all - he works all day long. It's just! he's not practical. Money simply slips through his fingers, it's really ridiculous, Your Excellency. I know you help musicians. You're famous for it. Give him just this one post. We'd be forever indebted! A short pause. SALIERI Let me offer you some refreshment. Do you know what these are? He indicates a dish piled high with glazed chestnuts. SALIERI Cappezzoli di Venere. Nipples of Venus. Roman chestnuts in brandied sugar. Won't you try one? They're quite surprising. He offers her the dish. She takes one and puts it in her mouth. He watches carefully. CONSTANZE Oh! They're wonderful. He takes one himself. We notice on his finger a heavy gold signet-ring. CONSTANZE Thank you very much, Your Excellency. SALIERI Don't keep calling me that. It puts me at such a distance. I was not born a Court Composer, you know. I'm from a small town, just like your husband. He smiles at her. She takes another chestnut. SALIERI Are you sure you can't leave that music, and come back again? I have other things you might like. CONSTANZE That's very tempting, but it's impossible, I'm afraid. Wolfi would be frantic if he found those were missing. You see, they're all originals. SALIERI Originals? CONSTANZE Yes. A pause. He puts out his hand and takes up the portfolio from the table. He opens it. He looks at the music. He is puzzled. SALIERI These are originals? CONSTANZE Yes, sir. He doesn't make copies. CUT TO: INT. OLD SALIERI'S HOSPITAL ROOM - NIGHT - 1823 The old man faces the Priest. OLD SALIERI Astounding! It was actually beyond belief. These were first and only drafts of music yet they showed no corrections of any kind. Not one. Do you realize what that meant? Vogler stares at him. OLD SALIERI He'd simply put down music already finished in his head. Page after page of it, as if he was just taking dictation. And music finished as no music is ever finished. INT. SALIERI'S SALON - LATE AFTERNOON - 1780'S CU, The manuscript in Mozart's handwriting. The music begins to sound under the following: OLD SALIERI (V.O.) Displace one note and there would be diminishment. Displace one phrase, and the structure would fall. It was clear to me. That sound I had heard in the Archbishop's palace had been no accident. Here again was the very voice of God! I was staring through the cage of those meticulous ink- strokes at an absolute, inimitable beauty. The music swells. What we now hear is an amazing collage of great passages from Mozart's music, ravishing to Salieri and to us. The Court Composer, oblivious to Constanze, who sits happily chewing chestnuts, her mouth covered in sugar, walks around and around his salon, reading the pages and dropping them on the floor when he is done with them. We see his agonized and wondering face: he shudders as if in a rough and tumbling sea; he experiences the point where beauty and great pain coalesce. More pages fall than he can read, scattering across the floor in a white cascade, as he circles the room. Finally, we hear the tremendous Qui Tollis from the Mass in C Minor. It seems to break over him like a wave and, unable to bear any more of it, he slams the portfolio shut. Instantly, the music breaks off, reverberating in his head. He stands shaking, staring wildly. Constanze gets up, perplexed. CONSTANZE Is it no good? A pause. SALIERI It is miraculous. CONSTANZE Oh yes. He's really proud of his work. Another pause. CONSTANZE So, will you help him? Salieri tries to recover himself. SALIERI Tomorrow night I dine with the Emperor. One word from me and the post is his. CONSTANZE Oh, thank you, sir! Overjoyed, she stops and kisses his hand. He raises her - and then clasps her to him clumsily. She pushes herself away. SALIERI Come back tonight. CONSTANZE Tonight? SALIERI Alone. CONSTANZE What for? SALIERI Some service deserves service in return. No? CONSTANZE What do you mean? SALIERI Isn't it obvious? They stare at one another: Constanze in total disbelief. SALIERI It's a post all Vienna seeks. If you want it for your husband, come tonight. CONSTANZE But! I'm a married woman! SALIERI Then don't. It's up to you. Not to be vague, that is the price. He glares at her. SALIERI Yes. He rings a silver bell for a servant and abruptly leaves the roam. Constanze stares after him, horrified. The servant enters. Shocked and stunned, Constanze goes down an her knees and starts picking up the music from the floor. CUT TO: INT. OLD SALIERI'S HOSPITAL ROOM - NIGHT - 1823 CU, Father Vogler, horrified. OLD SALIERI Yes, Father. Yes! So much for my vow of chastity. What did it matter? Good, patient, hard-working, chaste - what did it matter? Had goodness made me a good composer? I realized it absolutely then - that moment: goodness is nothing in the furnace of art. And I was nothing to God. VOGLER (crying out) You cannot say that! OLD SALIERI No? Was Mozart a good man? VOGLER God's ways are not yours. And you are not here to question Him. Offer him the salt of penitence. He will give you back the bread of eternal life. He is all merciful. That is all you need to know. OLD SALIERI All I ever wanted was to sing to Him. That's His doing, isn't it? He gave me that longing - then made me mute. Why? Tell me that. If He didn't want me to serve Him with music, why implant the desire, like a lust in my body, then deny me the talent? Go on, tell me! Speak for Him! VOGLER My son, no one can speak for God. OLD SALIERI Oh? I thought you did so every day. So speak now. Answer me! VOGLER I do not claim to unravel the mysteries. I treasure them. As you should. OLD SALIERI (impatiently) Oh yes, yes, yes, yes, yes! Always the same stale answers! (intimately to the priest) There is no God of Mercy, Father. Just a God of torture. CUT TO: INT. SALIERI'S APARTMENT - BEDROOM - NIGHT - 1780'S Salieri sits at his desk, staring up at the cross. OLD SALIERI (V.O.) Evening came to that room. I sat there not knowing whether the girl would return or not. I prayed as I'd never prayed before. SALIERI Dear God, enter me now. Fill me with one piece of true music. One piece with your breath in it, so I know that you love me. Please. Just one. Show me one sign of your favour, and I will show mine to Mozart and his wife. I will get him the royal position, and if she comes, I'll receive her with all respect and send her home in joy. Enter me! Enter me! Please! Te imploro. Long, long silence. Salieri stares at the cross. Christ stares back at him impassively. Finally in this silence we hear a faint knocking at the door. Salieri stirs himself. A servant appears. SERVANT That lady is back, sir. SALIERI Show her in. Then go to bed. The Servant bows and leaves. We follow him through: INT. MUSIC ROOM IN SALIERI'S APARTMENT - NIGHT - 1780'S The Servant crosses it and enters: INT. SALON IN SALIERI'S APARTMENT - NIGHT - 1780'S Constanze is sitting on an upright chair, veiled as before, the portfolio of music on her lap. Through the far door leading from the hall, another servant is peering at her. The first servant joins him and shuts the door on the girl, leaving her alone. We stay with her. The clock ticks on the mantelpiece. We hear an old carriage pass in the street below. Nervously she lifts her veil and looks about her. Suddenly Salieri appears from the music room. He is pale and very tight. They regard each other. She smiles and rises to greet him, affecting a relaxed and warm manner, as if to put him at his ease. CONSTANZE Well, I'm here. My husband has gone to a concert. He didn't think I would enjoy it. A pause. CONSTANZE I do apologize for this afternoon. I behaved like a silly girl. Where shall we go? SALIERI What? CONSTANZE Should we stay here? It's a charming room. I love these candlesticks. Were they here earlier? I didn't notice them I suppose I was too nervous. As she talks, she extinguishes the candles in a pair of Venetian candelabra and subsequently other candles around the room. CONSTANZE Wolfgang was given some candlesticks by King George in England, but they were only wood. Oh, excuse me. Let's not talk about him. What do you think of this? It's real lace. Brussels. She turns and takes off her shawl. CONSTANZE Well, it's much too good for every day. I keep saying to Wolfi, don't be so extravagant. Presents are lovely, but we can't afford them. It doesn't do any good. The more I tell him, the more he spends. Oh, excuse me! There I go again. She picks up the portfolio. CONSTANZE Do you still want to look at this? Or don't we need to bother anymore? I imagine we don't, really. She looks at him inquiringly, and drops the portfolio on the floor; pages of music pour out of it. Instantly we hear a massive chord, and the great Qui Tollis from the Mass in C Minor fills the room. To its grand and weighty sound, Constanze starts to undress, watched by the horrified Salieri. Between him and her, music is an active presence, hurting and baffling him. He opens his mouth in distress. The music pounds in his head. The candle flickers over her as she removes her clothes and prepares for his embrace. Suddenly he cries out. SALIERI Go! Go! Go! He snatches up the bell and shakes it frantically, not stopping until the two servants we saw earlier appear at the door. The music stops abruptly. They stare at the appalled and frightened Constanze, who is desperately trying to cover her nakedness. SALIERI Show this woman out! Constanze hurls herself at him. CONSTANZE You shit! You shit! You rotten shit! He seizes her wrists and thrusts her back. Then he leaves the room quickly, slamming the door behind him. Constanze turns and sees the two servants goggling at her in the room. CONSTANZE What are you staring at? Wildly, she picks up the candelabrum and throws it at them. It shatters on the floor. INT. SALIERI'S APARTMENT - BEDROOM - NIGHT - 1780'S CU, Salieri standing, his eyes shut, shaking in distress. He opens them and sees Christ across the room, staring at him from the wall. OLD SALIERI (V.O.) From now on, we are enemies, You and I! CUT TO: INT. OLD SALIERI'S HOSPITAL ROOM - NIGHT - 1823 The old man is reliving the experience. Vogler looks at him, horrified. OLD SALIERI Because You will not enter me, with all my need for you; because You scorn my attempts at virtue; because You choose for Your instrument a boastful, lustful, smutty infantile boy and give me for reward only the ability to recognize the Incarnation; because You are unjust, unfair, unkind, I will block You! I swear it! I will hinder and harm Your creature on earth as far as I am able. I will ruin Your Incarnation. CUT BACK TO: INT. SALIERI'S APARTMENT - BEDROOM - NIGHT - 1780'S CU, the fireplace. In it lies the olivewood Christ on the cross, burning. OLD SALIERI (V.O.) What use after all is Man, if not to teach God His lessons? The cross flames up and disintegrates. Salieri stares at it. CUT TO: INT. MOZART'S APARTMENT - LIVING ROOM - NIGHT - 1780'S The front door bursts open. Mozart stumbles in, followed by EMMANUEL SCHIKANEDER, three young actresses, and another man, all fairly drunk. Schikaneder (who appears everywhere accompanied by young girls) is a large, fleshy, extravagant man of about thirty-five. MOZART Stanzi! Stanzi! Stanzi-Manzi! The others laugh. MOZART Sssh! SCHIKANEDER (imitating Mozart) Stanzi-Manzi-Banzi-Wanzi! MOZART Sssh! Stay here. He walks unsteadily to the bedroom door and opens it. SCHIKANEDER (to the girls, very tipsy) Sssh! You're dishgrashful! INT. MOZART'S APARTMENT - BEDROOM - NIGHT - 1780'S Constanze lies in bed, her back turned to her husband, who comes into the room and shuts the door. MOZART (playfully) Stanzi? How's my mouse? Mouse-wouse? I'm back - puss-wuss is back! She turns around abruptly. She looks dreadful; her eyes red with weeping. Mozart is shocked. MOZART Stanzi! He approaches the bed and sits on it. Immediately she starts crying again, desperately. MOZART What's the matter? What is it? Stanzi! He holds her and she clings to him in a fierce embrace, crying a flood of tears. MOZART Stop it now. Stop it. I've brought some friends to meet you. They're next door waiting. Do we have anything to eat? They're all starving. CONSTANZE Tell them to go away. I don't want to see anybody. MOZART What's the matter with you? CONSTANZE Tell them to go! MOZART Sssh. What is it? Tell me. CONSTANZE No! MOZART Yes! CONSTANZE I love you! I love you! She starts crying again, throwing her arms around his neck. CONSTANZE I love you. Please stay with me. I'm frightened. INT. THE ROYAL PALACE - DINING ROOM - DAY - 1780'S Joseph sits eating. A butler serves him goat's milk to drink. Joseph is holding a memorandum from Salieri in his hand. Salieri stands before him. JOSEPH I don't think you understand me, Court Composer. SALIERI Majesty, I did. Believe me, it was a most agonizing. decision. But finally, I simply could not recommend Herr Mozart. JOSEPH Why not? SALIERI Well, Sire, I made some inquiries in a routine way. I was curious to know why he had so few pupils. It is rather alarming. JOSEPH Oh? With a gesture Joseph dismisses the butler, who bows and leaves the room. SALIERI Majesty, I don't like to talk against a fellow musician. JOSEPH Of course not. SALIERI I have to tell you, Mozart is not entirely to be trusted alone with young ladies. JOSEPH Really? SALIERI As a matter of fact, one of my own pupils - a very young singer - told me she was - er - well! JOSEPH Yes? SALIERI Molested, Majesty. Twice, in the course of the same lesson. A pause. JOSEPH Ah-ha. Well. There it is. INT. SALIERI'S HOUSE - STAIRCASE - VIENNA - DAY - 1780'S Salieri has just returned from the palace and is coming up the staircase. He is met by his servant. SERVANT Sir, there is a Herr Mozart waiting for you in the salon. Salieri is plainly alarmed. SALIERI What does he want? SERVANT He didn't say, sir. I told him I didn't know when you would be back, but he insisted on waiting. SALIERI Come with me. And stay in the room. He mounts the stairs. INT. SALIERI'S APARTMENT - SALON - DAY - 1780'S Mozart is waiting for Salieri, holding a portfolio. Salieri approaches him nervously. Mozart stands not belligerently, but humbly. SALIERI Herr Mozart, what brings you here? MOZART Your Excellency, you requested some specimens of my work. Here they are. I don't have to tell you how much I need your help. I truly appreciate your looking at these. I have pressures on me - financial pressures. As you know, I'm a married man now. SALIERI So you are. How is your pretty wife? MOZART She is well. She is - well, actually, I'm about to become a father! She only told me last night. You are the first to know. SALIERI I'm flattered. And congratulations to you, of course. MOZART So you see, this post is very important to me right now. Salieri looks at him in distress. SALIERI Why didn't you come to me yesterday, Mozart? This is a most painful situation. Yesterday I could have helped you. Today, I can't. MOZART Why? Here is the music. It's here. I am submitting it humbly. Isn't that what you wanted? SALIERI I have just come from the palace. The post has been filled. MOZART Filled? That's impossible! They haven't even seen my work. I need this post. Please, can't you help me? Please! SALIERI My dear Mozart, there is no one in the world I would rather help, but now it is too late. MOZART Whom did they choose? SALIERI Herr Sommer. MOZART Sommer? Herr Sommer? But the man's a fool! He's a total mediocrity. SALIERI No, no, no: he has yet to achieve mediocrity. MOZART But I can't lose this post, I simply can't! Excellency, please. Let's go to the palace, and you can explain to the Emperor that Herr Sommer is an awful choice. He could actually do musical harm to the Princess! SALIERI An implausible idea. Between you and me, no one in the world could do musical harm to the Princess Elizabeth. Mozart chuckles delightedly. Salieri offers him a glass of white dessert and a spoon. Mozart takes it absently and goes on talking. MOZART Look, I must have pupils. Without pupils I can't manage. SALIERI You don't mean to tell me you are living in poverty? MOZART No, but I'm broke. I'm always broke. I don't know why. SALIERI It has been said, my friend, that you are inclined to live somewhat above your means. MOZART How can anyone say that? We have no cook, no maid. We have no footman. Nothing at all! SALIERI How is that possible? You give concerts, don't you? I hear they are quite successful. MOZART They're stupendously successful. You can't get a seat. The only problem is none will hire me. They all want to hear me play, but they won't let me teach their daughters. As if I was some kind of fiend. I'm not a fiend! SALIERI Of course not. MOZART Do you have a daughter? SALIERI I'm afraid not. MOZART Well, could you lend me some money till you have one?

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How many times the word 'count' appears in the text?

All the same, why him? Why use Mozart to teach me lessons in humility? My heart was filling up with such hatred for that little man. For the first time in my life I began to know really violent thoughts. I couldn't stop them. VOGLER Did you try? OLD SALIERI Every day. Sometimes for hours I would pray! INT. SALIERI'S APARTMENT - BEDROOM - DAY - 1780'S The young Salieri is kneeling in desperation before the Cross. SALIERI Please! Please! Send him away, back to Salzburg. For his sake as well as mine. CU, Christ staring from the Cross. CUT BACK TO: INT. AUDIENCE HALL - ARCHBISHOP'S PALACE - SALZBURG - DAY - 1780'S We see Leopold kneeling now not to the Cross but to Archbishop Colloredo, sitting impassively on his throne. Count Arco stands beside him. Leopold is a desperate, once-handsome man of sixty, now far too much the subservient courtier. COLLOREDO No! I won't have him back. LEOPOLD But he needs to be here in Salzburg, Your Grace. He needs me and he needs you. Your protection, your understanding. COLLOREDO Hardly. LEOPOLD Oh sir, yes! He's about to make the worst mistake of his life. Some little Viennese slut is trying to trick him into marriage. I know my son. He is too simple to see the trap - and there is no one there who really cares for him. COLLOREDO I'm not surprised. Money seems to be more important to him than loyalty or friendship. He has sold himself to Vienna. Let Vienna look out for him. LEOPOLD Sir - COLLOREDO Your son is an unprincipled, spoiled, conceited brat. LEOPOLD Yes, sir, that's the truth. But don't blame him. The fault is mine. I was too indulgent with him. But not again. Never again, I promise! I implore you - let me bring him back here. I'll make him give his word to serve you faithfully. COLLOREDO And how will you make him keep it? LEOPOLD Oh, sir, he's never disobeyed me in anything. Please, Your Grace, give him one more chance. COLLOREDO You have leave to try. LEOPOLD Oh, Your Grace - I thank Your Grace! I thank you! In deepest gratitude he kisses the Archbishop's hand. He motions Leopold to rise. We hear the first dark fortissimo chord which begins the Overture to Don Giovanni: the theme associated with the character of the Commendatore. LEOPOLD (V.O.) My dear son. The second fortissimo chord sounds. INT. A BAROQUE CHURCH - DAY - 1780'S We see a huge CU, of Mozart's head, looking front and down, as if reading his father's letter. We hear Leopold's voice over this image, no longer whining and anxious, but impressive. LEOPOLD (V.O.) I write to you with urgent news. I am coming to Vienna. Take no further steps toward marriage until we meet. You are too gullible to see your own danger. As you honour the father who has devoted his entire life to yours, do as I bid, and await my coming. MOZART I will. The camera pulls back to see that he is in fact kneeling beside Constanze. A PRIEST faces them. Behind them are Madame Weber, Josefa and Sophie Weber, and a very few others. Among them, a merry looking lady in bright clothes: the BARONESS WALDSTADTEN. PRIEST And will you, Constanze Weber, take this man, Wolfgang to be your lawful husband? CONSTANZE I will. PRIEST I now pronounce you man and wife. The opening kyrie of the great Mass in C Minor is heard. Mozart and Constanze kiss. They are in tears. Madame Weber and her daughters look on approvingly. The music swells and continues under the following: INT. A ROOM IN LEOPOLD'S HOUSE - SALZBURG - NIGHT - 1780'S There is a view of a castle in background. Leopold sits alone in his room. He is reading a letter from Wolfgang. At his feet are his trunks, half-packed for the journey he will not now take. We hear Mozart's voice reading the following letter and we see, as the camera roves around the room, mementos of the young prodigy's early life: the little forte-piano made for him; the little violin made for him; an Order presented to him. We see a little starling in a wicker cage. And we see portraits of the boy on the walls, concluding with the familiar family portrait of Wolfgang and his sister Nannerl seated at the keyboard with Leopold standing, and the picture of their mother on the wall behind them. MOZART (V.O.) Most beloved father, it is done. Do not blame me that I did not wait to see your dear face. I knew you would have tried to dissuade me from my truest happiness and I could not have borne it. Your every word is precious to me. Remember how you have always told me Vienna is the City of Musicians. To conquer here is to conquer Europe! With my wife I can do it. I vow I will become regular in my habits and productive as never before. She is wonderful, Papa, and I know that you will love her. And one day soon when I am a wealthy man, you will come and live with us, and we will be so happy. I long for that day, best of Papas, and kiss your hand a hundred thousand times. The music of the Mass fades as Leopold crumples the letter in his hand. EXT. THE IMPERIAL GARDENS - VIENNA - DAY - 1780'S Salieri stands waiting, hat in hand. Beside him stands a royal servant. Behind him, gardeners are glimpsed tending the shrubs and bushes along a grassy ride. Down this ride are seen cantering two people on horseback: the Emperor Joseph and his niece, the PRINCESS ELIZABETH. They are mounted on glossy horses. The Princess rides side-saddle. Running beside her is a panting groom. The Emperor rides elegantly; his niece, a dumpy little Hapsburg girl of sixteen, like a sack of potatoes. As they draw level with Salieri they stop, and the groom holds the head of the Princess' horse. Salieri bows respectfully. JOSEPH Good morning, Court Composer. This is my niece, the Princess Elizabeth. SALIERI Your Highness. Out of breath, the Princess nods nervously. JOSEPH She has asked me to advise her on a suitable musical instructor. I think I've come up with an excellent idea. He smiles at Salieri. SALIERI Oh, Your Majesty, it would be such a tremendous honour! JOSEPH I'm thinking about Herr Mozart. What is your view? Salieri's face falls, almost imperceptibly. SALIERI An interesting idea, Majesty. But - JOSEPH Yes? SALIERI You already commissioned an opera from Mozart. JOSEPH And the result satisfies. SALIERI Yes, of course. My concern is to protect you from any suspicion of favouritism. JOSEPH Ah-ha. Favouritism. But I so want Mozart. SALIERI I'm sure there is a way, Majesty. Some kind of a little contest. I could perhaps put together a small Committee, and I could see to it naturally that it will select according to Your Majesty's wishes. JOSEPH You please me, Court Composer. A very clever idea. SALIERI (bowing) Sire. JOSEPH Well. There it is. He rides on. The groom releases her horse's head, and runs on after the Princess. CUT TO: INT. CHAMBERLAIN VON STRACK'S STUDY - DAY - 1780'S Von Strack sits stiffly behind his gilded desk. Mozart stands before him, trembling with anger. MOZART What is this, Herr Chamberlain? VON STRACK What is what? MOZART Why do I have to submit samples of my work to some stupid committee? Just to teach a sixteen-year-old girl. VON STRACK Because His Majesty wishes it. MOZART Is the Emperor angry with me? VON STRACK On the contrary. MOZART Then why doesn't he simply appoint me to the post? VON STRACK Mozart, you are not the only composer in Vienna. MOZART No, but I'm the best. VON STRACK A little modesty would suit you better. MOZART Who is on this committee? VON STRACK Kapellmeister Bonno, Count Orsini- Rosenberg and Court Composer Salieri. MOZART Naturally, the Italians! Of course! Always the Italians! VON STRACK Mozart - MOZART They hate my music. It terrifies them. The only sound Italians understand is banality. Tonic and dominant, tonic and dominant, from here to Resurrection! (singing angrily) Ba-ba! Ba-ba! Ba-ba! Ba-ba! Anything else is morbid. VON STRACK Mozart - MOZART Show them one interesting modulation and they faint. Ohime! Morbidezza! Morbidezza! Italians are musical idiots and you want them to judge my music! VON STRACK Look, young man, the issue is simple. If you want this post, you must submit your stuff in the same way as all your colleagues. MOZART Must I? Well, I won't! I tell you straight: I will not! CUT TO: INT. MOZART'S APARTMENT - BEDROOM - VIENNA - DAY - 1780'S The room is very small and untidy. Constanze is marching up and down it, upset. Mozart is lying on the bed. CONSTANZE I think you're mad! You're really mad! MOZART Oh, leave me alone. CONSTANZE One royal pupil and the whole of Vienna will come flocking. We'd be set up for life! MOZART They'll come anyway. They love me here. CONSTANZE No, they will not. I know how things work in this city. MOZART Oh yes? You always know everything. CONSTANZE Well, I'm not borrowing any more money from my mother, and that's that! MOZART You borrowed money from your mother? CONSTANZE Yes! MOZART Well, don't do that again! CONSTANZE How are we going to live, Wolfi? Do you want me to go into the streets and beg? MOZART Don't be stupid. CONSTANZE All they want to see is your work. What's wrong with that? MOZART Shut up! Just shut up! I don't need them. CONSTANZE This isn't pride. It's sheer stupidity! She glares at him, almost in tears. CUT TO: INT. SALIERI'S MUSIC ROOM - LATE AFTERNOON - 1780'S Salieri is giving a lesson to a girl student, who is singing the Italian art song, Caro Mio Ben. There is a knock on the door. SALIERI Yes. A SERVANT enters. SERVANT Excuse me, sir, there is a lady who insists on talking to you. SALIERI Who is she? SERVANT She didn't say. But she says it's urgent. SALIERI (to the pupil) Excuse me, my dear. Salieri goes into the salon. CUT TO: INT. THE SALON - LATE AFTERNOON - 1780'S Constanze stands, closely veiled, holding a portfolio stuffed with manuscripts. The singing lesson ends, with two chords on the instrument. Salieri enters the salon. Constanze drops him a shy curtsey. CONSTANZE Excellency! SALIERI Madame. How can I help you? Shyly, she unveils. SALIERI Frau Mozart? CONSTANZE That's right, Your Excellency. I've come on behalf of my hus band. I'm - I'm bringing some samples of his work so he can be considered for the royal appointment. SALIERI How charming. But why did he not come himself? CONSTANZE He's terribly busy, sir. SALIERI I understand. He takes the portfolio and puts it on a table. SALIERI I will look at them, of course, the moment I can. It will be an honour. Please give him my warmest. CONSTANZE Would it be too much trouble, sir, to ask you to look at them now? While I wait. SALIERI I'm afraid I'm not at leisure this very moment. Just leave them with me. I assure you they will be quite safe. CONSTANZE I - I really cannot do that, Your Excellency. You see, he doesn't know I'm here. SALIERI Really? CONSTANZE My husband is a proud man, sir. He would be furious if he knew I'd come. SALIERI Then he didn't send you? CONSTANZE No, sir. This is my own idea. SALIERI I see. CONSTANZE Sir, we really need this job. We're desperate. My husband spends far more than he can ever earn. I don't mean he's lazy - he's not at all - he works all day long. It's just! he's not practical. Money simply slips through his fingers, it's really ridiculous, Your Excellency. I know you help musicians. You're famous for it. Give him just this one post. We'd be forever indebted! A short pause. SALIERI Let me offer you some refreshment. Do you know what these are? He indicates a dish piled high with glazed chestnuts. SALIERI Cappezzoli di Venere. Nipples of Venus. Roman chestnuts in brandied sugar. Won't you try one? They're quite surprising. He offers her the dish. She takes one and puts it in her mouth. He watches carefully. CONSTANZE Oh! They're wonderful. He takes one himself. We notice on his finger a heavy gold signet-ring. CONSTANZE Thank you very much, Your Excellency. SALIERI Don't keep calling me that. It puts me at such a distance. I was not born a Court Composer, you know. I'm from a small town, just like your husband. He smiles at her. She takes another chestnut. SALIERI Are you sure you can't leave that music, and come back again? I have other things you might like. CONSTANZE That's very tempting, but it's impossible, I'm afraid. Wolfi would be frantic if he found those were missing. You see, they're all originals. SALIERI Originals? CONSTANZE Yes. A pause. He puts out his hand and takes up the portfolio from the table. He opens it. He looks at the music. He is puzzled. SALIERI These are originals? CONSTANZE Yes, sir. He doesn't make copies. CUT TO: INT. OLD SALIERI'S HOSPITAL ROOM - NIGHT - 1823 The old man faces the Priest. OLD SALIERI Astounding! It was actually beyond belief. These were first and only drafts of music yet they showed no corrections of any kind. Not one. Do you realize what that meant? Vogler stares at him. OLD SALIERI He'd simply put down music already finished in his head. Page after page of it, as if he was just taking dictation. And music finished as no music is ever finished. INT. SALIERI'S SALON - LATE AFTERNOON - 1780'S CU, The manuscript in Mozart's handwriting. The music begins to sound under the following: OLD SALIERI (V.O.) Displace one note and there would be diminishment. Displace one phrase, and the structure would fall. It was clear to me. That sound I had heard in the Archbishop's palace had been no accident. Here again was the very voice of God! I was staring through the cage of those meticulous ink- strokes at an absolute, inimitable beauty. The music swells. What we now hear is an amazing collage of great passages from Mozart's music, ravishing to Salieri and to us. The Court Composer, oblivious to Constanze, who sits happily chewing chestnuts, her mouth covered in sugar, walks around and around his salon, reading the pages and dropping them on the floor when he is done with them. We see his agonized and wondering face: he shudders as if in a rough and tumbling sea; he experiences the point where beauty and great pain coalesce. More pages fall than he can read, scattering across the floor in a white cascade, as he circles the room. Finally, we hear the tremendous Qui Tollis from the Mass in C Minor. It seems to break over him like a wave and, unable to bear any more of it, he slams the portfolio shut. Instantly, the music breaks off, reverberating in his head. He stands shaking, staring wildly. Constanze gets up, perplexed. CONSTANZE Is it no good? A pause. SALIERI It is miraculous. CONSTANZE Oh yes. He's really proud of his work. Another pause. CONSTANZE So, will you help him? Salieri tries to recover himself. SALIERI Tomorrow night I dine with the Emperor. One word from me and the post is his. CONSTANZE Oh, thank you, sir! Overjoyed, she stops and kisses his hand. He raises her - and then clasps her to him clumsily. She pushes herself away. SALIERI Come back tonight. CONSTANZE Tonight? SALIERI Alone. CONSTANZE What for? SALIERI Some service deserves service in return. No? CONSTANZE What do you mean? SALIERI Isn't it obvious? They stare at one another: Constanze in total disbelief. SALIERI It's a post all Vienna seeks. If you want it for your husband, come tonight. CONSTANZE But! I'm a married woman! SALIERI Then don't. It's up to you. Not to be vague, that is the price. He glares at her. SALIERI Yes. He rings a silver bell for a servant and abruptly leaves the roam. Constanze stares after him, horrified. The servant enters. Shocked and stunned, Constanze goes down an her knees and starts picking up the music from the floor. CUT TO: INT. OLD SALIERI'S HOSPITAL ROOM - NIGHT - 1823 CU, Father Vogler, horrified. OLD SALIERI Yes, Father. Yes! So much for my vow of chastity. What did it matter? Good, patient, hard-working, chaste - what did it matter? Had goodness made me a good composer? I realized it absolutely then - that moment: goodness is nothing in the furnace of art. And I was nothing to God. VOGLER (crying out) You cannot say that! OLD SALIERI No? Was Mozart a good man? VOGLER God's ways are not yours. And you are not here to question Him. Offer him the salt of penitence. He will give you back the bread of eternal life. He is all merciful. That is all you need to know. OLD SALIERI All I ever wanted was to sing to Him. That's His doing, isn't it? He gave me that longing - then made me mute. Why? Tell me that. If He didn't want me to serve Him with music, why implant the desire, like a lust in my body, then deny me the talent? Go on, tell me! Speak for Him! VOGLER My son, no one can speak for God. OLD SALIERI Oh? I thought you did so every day. So speak now. Answer me! VOGLER I do not claim to unravel the mysteries. I treasure them. As you should. OLD SALIERI (impatiently) Oh yes, yes, yes, yes, yes! Always the same stale answers! (intimately to the priest) There is no God of Mercy, Father. Just a God of torture. CUT TO: INT. SALIERI'S APARTMENT - BEDROOM - NIGHT - 1780'S Salieri sits at his desk, staring up at the cross. OLD SALIERI (V.O.) Evening came to that room. I sat there not knowing whether the girl would return or not. I prayed as I'd never prayed before. SALIERI Dear God, enter me now. Fill me with one piece of true music. One piece with your breath in it, so I know that you love me. Please. Just one. Show me one sign of your favour, and I will show mine to Mozart and his wife. I will get him the royal position, and if she comes, I'll receive her with all respect and send her home in joy. Enter me! Enter me! Please! Te imploro. Long, long silence. Salieri stares at the cross. Christ stares back at him impassively. Finally in this silence we hear a faint knocking at the door. Salieri stirs himself. A servant appears. SERVANT That lady is back, sir. SALIERI Show her in. Then go to bed. The Servant bows and leaves. We follow him through: INT. MUSIC ROOM IN SALIERI'S APARTMENT - NIGHT - 1780'S The Servant crosses it and enters: INT. SALON IN SALIERI'S APARTMENT - NIGHT - 1780'S Constanze is sitting on an upright chair, veiled as before, the portfolio of music on her lap. Through the far door leading from the hall, another servant is peering at her. The first servant joins him and shuts the door on the girl, leaving her alone. We stay with her. The clock ticks on the mantelpiece. We hear an old carriage pass in the street below. Nervously she lifts her veil and looks about her. Suddenly Salieri appears from the music room. He is pale and very tight. They regard each other. She smiles and rises to greet him, affecting a relaxed and warm manner, as if to put him at his ease. CONSTANZE Well, I'm here. My husband has gone to a concert. He didn't think I would enjoy it. A pause. CONSTANZE I do apologize for this afternoon. I behaved like a silly girl. Where shall we go? SALIERI What? CONSTANZE Should we stay here? It's a charming room. I love these candlesticks. Were they here earlier? I didn't notice them I suppose I was too nervous. As she talks, she extinguishes the candles in a pair of Venetian candelabra and subsequently other candles around the room. CONSTANZE Wolfgang was given some candlesticks by King George in England, but they were only wood. Oh, excuse me. Let's not talk about him. What do you think of this? It's real lace. Brussels. She turns and takes off her shawl. CONSTANZE Well, it's much too good for every day. I keep saying to Wolfi, don't be so extravagant. Presents are lovely, but we can't afford them. It doesn't do any good. The more I tell him, the more he spends. Oh, excuse me! There I go again. She picks up the portfolio. CONSTANZE Do you still want to look at this? Or don't we need to bother anymore? I imagine we don't, really. She looks at him inquiringly, and drops the portfolio on the floor; pages of music pour out of it. Instantly we hear a massive chord, and the great Qui Tollis from the Mass in C Minor fills the room. To its grand and weighty sound, Constanze starts to undress, watched by the horrified Salieri. Between him and her, music is an active presence, hurting and baffling him. He opens his mouth in distress. The music pounds in his head. The candle flickers over her as she removes her clothes and prepares for his embrace. Suddenly he cries out. SALIERI Go! Go! Go! He snatches up the bell and shakes it frantically, not stopping until the two servants we saw earlier appear at the door. The music stops abruptly. They stare at the appalled and frightened Constanze, who is desperately trying to cover her nakedness. SALIERI Show this woman out! Constanze hurls herself at him. CONSTANZE You shit! You shit! You rotten shit! He seizes her wrists and thrusts her back. Then he leaves the room quickly, slamming the door behind him. Constanze turns and sees the two servants goggling at her in the room. CONSTANZE What are you staring at? Wildly, she picks up the candelabrum and throws it at them. It shatters on the floor. INT. SALIERI'S APARTMENT - BEDROOM - NIGHT - 1780'S CU, Salieri standing, his eyes shut, shaking in distress. He opens them and sees Christ across the room, staring at him from the wall. OLD SALIERI (V.O.) From now on, we are enemies, You and I! CUT TO: INT. OLD SALIERI'S HOSPITAL ROOM - NIGHT - 1823 The old man is reliving the experience. Vogler looks at him, horrified. OLD SALIERI Because You will not enter me, with all my need for you; because You scorn my attempts at virtue; because You choose for Your instrument a boastful, lustful, smutty infantile boy and give me for reward only the ability to recognize the Incarnation; because You are unjust, unfair, unkind, I will block You! I swear it! I will hinder and harm Your creature on earth as far as I am able. I will ruin Your Incarnation. CUT BACK TO: INT. SALIERI'S APARTMENT - BEDROOM - NIGHT - 1780'S CU, the fireplace. In it lies the olivewood Christ on the cross, burning. OLD SALIERI (V.O.) What use after all is Man, if not to teach God His lessons? The cross flames up and disintegrates. Salieri stares at it. CUT TO: INT. MOZART'S APARTMENT - LIVING ROOM - NIGHT - 1780'S The front door bursts open. Mozart stumbles in, followed by EMMANUEL SCHIKANEDER, three young actresses, and another man, all fairly drunk. Schikaneder (who appears everywhere accompanied by young girls) is a large, fleshy, extravagant man of about thirty-five. MOZART Stanzi! Stanzi! Stanzi-Manzi! The others laugh. MOZART Sssh! SCHIKANEDER (imitating Mozart) Stanzi-Manzi-Banzi-Wanzi! MOZART Sssh! Stay here. He walks unsteadily to the bedroom door and opens it. SCHIKANEDER (to the girls, very tipsy) Sssh! You're dishgrashful! INT. MOZART'S APARTMENT - BEDROOM - NIGHT - 1780'S Constanze lies in bed, her back turned to her husband, who comes into the room and shuts the door. MOZART (playfully) Stanzi? How's my mouse? Mouse-wouse? I'm back - puss-wuss is back! She turns around abruptly. She looks dreadful; her eyes red with weeping. Mozart is shocked. MOZART Stanzi! He approaches the bed and sits on it. Immediately she starts crying again, desperately. MOZART What's the matter? What is it? Stanzi! He holds her and she clings to him in a fierce embrace, crying a flood of tears. MOZART Stop it now. Stop it. I've brought some friends to meet you. They're next door waiting. Do we have anything to eat? They're all starving. CONSTANZE Tell them to go away. I don't want to see anybody. MOZART What's the matter with you? CONSTANZE Tell them to go! MOZART Sssh. What is it? Tell me. CONSTANZE No! MOZART Yes! CONSTANZE I love you! I love you! She starts crying again, throwing her arms around his neck. CONSTANZE I love you. Please stay with me. I'm frightened. INT. THE ROYAL PALACE - DINING ROOM - DAY - 1780'S Joseph sits eating. A butler serves him goat's milk to drink. Joseph is holding a memorandum from Salieri in his hand. Salieri stands before him. JOSEPH I don't think you understand me, Court Composer. SALIERI Majesty, I did. Believe me, it was a most agonizing. decision. But finally, I simply could not recommend Herr Mozart. JOSEPH Why not? SALIERI Well, Sire, I made some inquiries in a routine way. I was curious to know why he had so few pupils. It is rather alarming. JOSEPH Oh? With a gesture Joseph dismisses the butler, who bows and leaves the room. SALIERI Majesty, I don't like to talk against a fellow musician. JOSEPH Of course not. SALIERI I have to tell you, Mozart is not entirely to be trusted alone with young ladies. JOSEPH Really? SALIERI As a matter of fact, one of my own pupils - a very young singer - told me she was - er - well! JOSEPH Yes? SALIERI Molested, Majesty. Twice, in the course of the same lesson. A pause. JOSEPH Ah-ha. Well. There it is. INT. SALIERI'S HOUSE - STAIRCASE - VIENNA - DAY - 1780'S Salieri has just returned from the palace and is coming up the staircase. He is met by his servant. SERVANT Sir, there is a Herr Mozart waiting for you in the salon. Salieri is plainly alarmed. SALIERI What does he want? SERVANT He didn't say, sir. I told him I didn't know when you would be back, but he insisted on waiting. SALIERI Come with me. And stay in the room. He mounts the stairs. INT. SALIERI'S APARTMENT - SALON - DAY - 1780'S Mozart is waiting for Salieri, holding a portfolio. Salieri approaches him nervously. Mozart stands not belligerently, but humbly. SALIERI Herr Mozart, what brings you here? MOZART Your Excellency, you requested some specimens of my work. Here they are. I don't have to tell you how much I need your help. I truly appreciate your looking at these. I have pressures on me - financial pressures. As you know, I'm a married man now. SALIERI So you are. How is your pretty wife? MOZART She is well. She is - well, actually, I'm about to become a father! She only told me last night. You are the first to know. SALIERI I'm flattered. And congratulations to you, of course. MOZART So you see, this post is very important to me right now. Salieri looks at him in distress. SALIERI Why didn't you come to me yesterday, Mozart? This is a most painful situation. Yesterday I could have helped you. Today, I can't. MOZART Why? Here is the music. It's here. I am submitting it humbly. Isn't that what you wanted? SALIERI I have just come from the palace. The post has been filled. MOZART Filled? That's impossible! They haven't even seen my work. I need this post. Please, can't you help me? Please! SALIERI My dear Mozart, there is no one in the world I would rather help, but now it is too late. MOZART Whom did they choose? SALIERI Herr Sommer. MOZART Sommer? Herr Sommer? But the man's a fool! He's a total mediocrity. SALIERI No, no, no: he has yet to achieve mediocrity. MOZART But I can't lose this post, I simply can't! Excellency, please. Let's go to the palace, and you can explain to the Emperor that Herr Sommer is an awful choice. He could actually do musical harm to the Princess! SALIERI An implausible idea. Between you and me, no one in the world could do musical harm to the Princess Elizabeth. Mozart chuckles delightedly. Salieri offers him a glass of white dessert and a spoon. Mozart takes it absently and goes on talking. MOZART Look, I must have pupils. Without pupils I can't manage. SALIERI You don't mean to tell me you are living in poverty? MOZART No, but I'm broke. I'm always broke. I don't know why. SALIERI It has been said, my friend, that you are inclined to live somewhat above your means. MOZART How can anyone say that? We have no cook, no maid. We have no footman. Nothing at all! SALIERI How is that possible? You give concerts, don't you? I hear they are quite successful. MOZART They're stupendously successful. You can't get a seat. The only problem is none will hire me. They all want to hear me play, but they won't let me teach their daughters. As if I was some kind of fiend. I'm not a fiend! SALIERI Of course not. MOZART Do you have a daughter? SALIERI I'm afraid not. MOZART Well, could you lend me some money till you have one?

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All the same, why him? Why use Mozart to teach me lessons in humility? My heart was filling up with such hatred for that little man. For the first time in my life I began to know really violent thoughts. I couldn't stop them. VOGLER Did you try? OLD SALIERI Every day. Sometimes for hours I would pray! INT. SALIERI'S APARTMENT - BEDROOM - DAY - 1780'S The young Salieri is kneeling in desperation before the Cross. SALIERI Please! Please! Send him away, back to Salzburg. For his sake as well as mine. CU, Christ staring from the Cross. CUT BACK TO: INT. AUDIENCE HALL - ARCHBISHOP'S PALACE - SALZBURG - DAY - 1780'S We see Leopold kneeling now not to the Cross but to Archbishop Colloredo, sitting impassively on his throne. Count Arco stands beside him. Leopold is a desperate, once-handsome man of sixty, now far too much the subservient courtier. COLLOREDO No! I won't have him back. LEOPOLD But he needs to be here in Salzburg, Your Grace. He needs me and he needs you. Your protection, your understanding. COLLOREDO Hardly. LEOPOLD Oh sir, yes! He's about to make the worst mistake of his life. Some little Viennese slut is trying to trick him into marriage. I know my son. He is too simple to see the trap - and there is no one there who really cares for him. COLLOREDO I'm not surprised. Money seems to be more important to him than loyalty or friendship. He has sold himself to Vienna. Let Vienna look out for him. LEOPOLD Sir - COLLOREDO Your son is an unprincipled, spoiled, conceited brat. LEOPOLD Yes, sir, that's the truth. But don't blame him. The fault is mine. I was too indulgent with him. But not again. Never again, I promise! I implore you - let me bring him back here. I'll make him give his word to serve you faithfully. COLLOREDO And how will you make him keep it? LEOPOLD Oh, sir, he's never disobeyed me in anything. Please, Your Grace, give him one more chance. COLLOREDO You have leave to try. LEOPOLD Oh, Your Grace - I thank Your Grace! I thank you! In deepest gratitude he kisses the Archbishop's hand. He motions Leopold to rise. We hear the first dark fortissimo chord which begins the Overture to Don Giovanni: the theme associated with the character of the Commendatore. LEOPOLD (V.O.) My dear son. The second fortissimo chord sounds. INT. A BAROQUE CHURCH - DAY - 1780'S We see a huge CU, of Mozart's head, looking front and down, as if reading his father's letter. We hear Leopold's voice over this image, no longer whining and anxious, but impressive. LEOPOLD (V.O.) I write to you with urgent news. I am coming to Vienna. Take no further steps toward marriage until we meet. You are too gullible to see your own danger. As you honour the father who has devoted his entire life to yours, do as I bid, and await my coming. MOZART I will. The camera pulls back to see that he is in fact kneeling beside Constanze. A PRIEST faces them. Behind them are Madame Weber, Josefa and Sophie Weber, and a very few others. Among them, a merry looking lady in bright clothes: the BARONESS WALDSTADTEN. PRIEST And will you, Constanze Weber, take this man, Wolfgang to be your lawful husband? CONSTANZE I will. PRIEST I now pronounce you man and wife. The opening kyrie of the great Mass in C Minor is heard. Mozart and Constanze kiss. They are in tears. Madame Weber and her daughters look on approvingly. The music swells and continues under the following: INT. A ROOM IN LEOPOLD'S HOUSE - SALZBURG - NIGHT - 1780'S There is a view of a castle in background. Leopold sits alone in his room. He is reading a letter from Wolfgang. At his feet are his trunks, half-packed for the journey he will not now take. We hear Mozart's voice reading the following letter and we see, as the camera roves around the room, mementos of the young prodigy's early life: the little forte-piano made for him; the little violin made for him; an Order presented to him. We see a little starling in a wicker cage. And we see portraits of the boy on the walls, concluding with the familiar family portrait of Wolfgang and his sister Nannerl seated at the keyboard with Leopold standing, and the picture of their mother on the wall behind them. MOZART (V.O.) Most beloved father, it is done. Do not blame me that I did not wait to see your dear face. I knew you would have tried to dissuade me from my truest happiness and I could not have borne it. Your every word is precious to me. Remember how you have always told me Vienna is the City of Musicians. To conquer here is to conquer Europe! With my wife I can do it. I vow I will become regular in my habits and productive as never before. She is wonderful, Papa, and I know that you will love her. And one day soon when I am a wealthy man, you will come and live with us, and we will be so happy. I long for that day, best of Papas, and kiss your hand a hundred thousand times. The music of the Mass fades as Leopold crumples the letter in his hand. EXT. THE IMPERIAL GARDENS - VIENNA - DAY - 1780'S Salieri stands waiting, hat in hand. Beside him stands a royal servant. Behind him, gardeners are glimpsed tending the shrubs and bushes along a grassy ride. Down this ride are seen cantering two people on horseback: the Emperor Joseph and his niece, the PRINCESS ELIZABETH. They are mounted on glossy horses. The Princess rides side-saddle. Running beside her is a panting groom. The Emperor rides elegantly; his niece, a dumpy little Hapsburg girl of sixteen, like a sack of potatoes. As they draw level with Salieri they stop, and the groom holds the head of the Princess' horse. Salieri bows respectfully. JOSEPH Good morning, Court Composer. This is my niece, the Princess Elizabeth. SALIERI Your Highness. Out of breath, the Princess nods nervously. JOSEPH She has asked me to advise her on a suitable musical instructor. I think I've come up with an excellent idea. He smiles at Salieri. SALIERI Oh, Your Majesty, it would be such a tremendous honour! JOSEPH I'm thinking about Herr Mozart. What is your view? Salieri's face falls, almost imperceptibly. SALIERI An interesting idea, Majesty. But - JOSEPH Yes? SALIERI You already commissioned an opera from Mozart. JOSEPH And the result satisfies. SALIERI Yes, of course. My concern is to protect you from any suspicion of favouritism. JOSEPH Ah-ha. Favouritism. But I so want Mozart. SALIERI I'm sure there is a way, Majesty. Some kind of a little contest. I could perhaps put together a small Committee, and I could see to it naturally that it will select according to Your Majesty's wishes. JOSEPH You please me, Court Composer. A very clever idea. SALIERI (bowing) Sire. JOSEPH Well. There it is. He rides on. The groom releases her horse's head, and runs on after the Princess. CUT TO: INT. CHAMBERLAIN VON STRACK'S STUDY - DAY - 1780'S Von Strack sits stiffly behind his gilded desk. Mozart stands before him, trembling with anger. MOZART What is this, Herr Chamberlain? VON STRACK What is what? MOZART Why do I have to submit samples of my work to some stupid committee? Just to teach a sixteen-year-old girl. VON STRACK Because His Majesty wishes it. MOZART Is the Emperor angry with me? VON STRACK On the contrary. MOZART Then why doesn't he simply appoint me to the post? VON STRACK Mozart, you are not the only composer in Vienna. MOZART No, but I'm the best. VON STRACK A little modesty would suit you better. MOZART Who is on this committee? VON STRACK Kapellmeister Bonno, Count Orsini- Rosenberg and Court Composer Salieri. MOZART Naturally, the Italians! Of course! Always the Italians! VON STRACK Mozart - MOZART They hate my music. It terrifies them. The only sound Italians understand is banality. Tonic and dominant, tonic and dominant, from here to Resurrection! (singing angrily) Ba-ba! Ba-ba! Ba-ba! Ba-ba! Anything else is morbid. VON STRACK Mozart - MOZART Show them one interesting modulation and they faint. Ohime! Morbidezza! Morbidezza! Italians are musical idiots and you want them to judge my music! VON STRACK Look, young man, the issue is simple. If you want this post, you must submit your stuff in the same way as all your colleagues. MOZART Must I? Well, I won't! I tell you straight: I will not! CUT TO: INT. MOZART'S APARTMENT - BEDROOM - VIENNA - DAY - 1780'S The room is very small and untidy. Constanze is marching up and down it, upset. Mozart is lying on the bed. CONSTANZE I think you're mad! You're really mad! MOZART Oh, leave me alone. CONSTANZE One royal pupil and the whole of Vienna will come flocking. We'd be set up for life! MOZART They'll come anyway. They love me here. CONSTANZE No, they will not. I know how things work in this city. MOZART Oh yes? You always know everything. CONSTANZE Well, I'm not borrowing any more money from my mother, and that's that! MOZART You borrowed money from your mother? CONSTANZE Yes! MOZART Well, don't do that again! CONSTANZE How are we going to live, Wolfi? Do you want me to go into the streets and beg? MOZART Don't be stupid. CONSTANZE All they want to see is your work. What's wrong with that? MOZART Shut up! Just shut up! I don't need them. CONSTANZE This isn't pride. It's sheer stupidity! She glares at him, almost in tears. CUT TO: INT. SALIERI'S MUSIC ROOM - LATE AFTERNOON - 1780'S Salieri is giving a lesson to a girl student, who is singing the Italian art song, Caro Mio Ben. There is a knock on the door. SALIERI Yes. A SERVANT enters. SERVANT Excuse me, sir, there is a lady who insists on talking to you. SALIERI Who is she? SERVANT She didn't say. But she says it's urgent. SALIERI (to the pupil) Excuse me, my dear. Salieri goes into the salon. CUT TO: INT. THE SALON - LATE AFTERNOON - 1780'S Constanze stands, closely veiled, holding a portfolio stuffed with manuscripts. The singing lesson ends, with two chords on the instrument. Salieri enters the salon. Constanze drops him a shy curtsey. CONSTANZE Excellency! SALIERI Madame. How can I help you? Shyly, she unveils. SALIERI Frau Mozart? CONSTANZE That's right, Your Excellency. I've come on behalf of my hus band. I'm - I'm bringing some samples of his work so he can be considered for the royal appointment. SALIERI How charming. But why did he not come himself? CONSTANZE He's terribly busy, sir. SALIERI I understand. He takes the portfolio and puts it on a table. SALIERI I will look at them, of course, the moment I can. It will be an honour. Please give him my warmest. CONSTANZE Would it be too much trouble, sir, to ask you to look at them now? While I wait. SALIERI I'm afraid I'm not at leisure this very moment. Just leave them with me. I assure you they will be quite safe. CONSTANZE I - I really cannot do that, Your Excellency. You see, he doesn't know I'm here. SALIERI Really? CONSTANZE My husband is a proud man, sir. He would be furious if he knew I'd come. SALIERI Then he didn't send you? CONSTANZE No, sir. This is my own idea. SALIERI I see. CONSTANZE Sir, we really need this job. We're desperate. My husband spends far more than he can ever earn. I don't mean he's lazy - he's not at all - he works all day long. It's just! he's not practical. Money simply slips through his fingers, it's really ridiculous, Your Excellency. I know you help musicians. You're famous for it. Give him just this one post. We'd be forever indebted! A short pause. SALIERI Let me offer you some refreshment. Do you know what these are? He indicates a dish piled high with glazed chestnuts. SALIERI Cappezzoli di Venere. Nipples of Venus. Roman chestnuts in brandied sugar. Won't you try one? They're quite surprising. He offers her the dish. She takes one and puts it in her mouth. He watches carefully. CONSTANZE Oh! They're wonderful. He takes one himself. We notice on his finger a heavy gold signet-ring. CONSTANZE Thank you very much, Your Excellency. SALIERI Don't keep calling me that. It puts me at such a distance. I was not born a Court Composer, you know. I'm from a small town, just like your husband. He smiles at her. She takes another chestnut. SALIERI Are you sure you can't leave that music, and come back again? I have other things you might like. CONSTANZE That's very tempting, but it's impossible, I'm afraid. Wolfi would be frantic if he found those were missing. You see, they're all originals. SALIERI Originals? CONSTANZE Yes. A pause. He puts out his hand and takes up the portfolio from the table. He opens it. He looks at the music. He is puzzled. SALIERI These are originals? CONSTANZE Yes, sir. He doesn't make copies. CUT TO: INT. OLD SALIERI'S HOSPITAL ROOM - NIGHT - 1823 The old man faces the Priest. OLD SALIERI Astounding! It was actually beyond belief. These were first and only drafts of music yet they showed no corrections of any kind. Not one. Do you realize what that meant? Vogler stares at him. OLD SALIERI He'd simply put down music already finished in his head. Page after page of it, as if he was just taking dictation. And music finished as no music is ever finished. INT. SALIERI'S SALON - LATE AFTERNOON - 1780'S CU, The manuscript in Mozart's handwriting. The music begins to sound under the following: OLD SALIERI (V.O.) Displace one note and there would be diminishment. Displace one phrase, and the structure would fall. It was clear to me. That sound I had heard in the Archbishop's palace had been no accident. Here again was the very voice of God! I was staring through the cage of those meticulous ink- strokes at an absolute, inimitable beauty. The music swells. What we now hear is an amazing collage of great passages from Mozart's music, ravishing to Salieri and to us. The Court Composer, oblivious to Constanze, who sits happily chewing chestnuts, her mouth covered in sugar, walks around and around his salon, reading the pages and dropping them on the floor when he is done with them. We see his agonized and wondering face: he shudders as if in a rough and tumbling sea; he experiences the point where beauty and great pain coalesce. More pages fall than he can read, scattering across the floor in a white cascade, as he circles the room. Finally, we hear the tremendous Qui Tollis from the Mass in C Minor. It seems to break over him like a wave and, unable to bear any more of it, he slams the portfolio shut. Instantly, the music breaks off, reverberating in his head. He stands shaking, staring wildly. Constanze gets up, perplexed. CONSTANZE Is it no good? A pause. SALIERI It is miraculous. CONSTANZE Oh yes. He's really proud of his work. Another pause. CONSTANZE So, will you help him? Salieri tries to recover himself. SALIERI Tomorrow night I dine with the Emperor. One word from me and the post is his. CONSTANZE Oh, thank you, sir! Overjoyed, she stops and kisses his hand. He raises her - and then clasps her to him clumsily. She pushes herself away. SALIERI Come back tonight. CONSTANZE Tonight? SALIERI Alone. CONSTANZE What for? SALIERI Some service deserves service in return. No? CONSTANZE What do you mean? SALIERI Isn't it obvious? They stare at one another: Constanze in total disbelief. SALIERI It's a post all Vienna seeks. If you want it for your husband, come tonight. CONSTANZE But! I'm a married woman! SALIERI Then don't. It's up to you. Not to be vague, that is the price. He glares at her. SALIERI Yes. He rings a silver bell for a servant and abruptly leaves the roam. Constanze stares after him, horrified. The servant enters. Shocked and stunned, Constanze goes down an her knees and starts picking up the music from the floor. CUT TO: INT. OLD SALIERI'S HOSPITAL ROOM - NIGHT - 1823 CU, Father Vogler, horrified. OLD SALIERI Yes, Father. Yes! So much for my vow of chastity. What did it matter? Good, patient, hard-working, chaste - what did it matter? Had goodness made me a good composer? I realized it absolutely then - that moment: goodness is nothing in the furnace of art. And I was nothing to God. VOGLER (crying out) You cannot say that! OLD SALIERI No? Was Mozart a good man? VOGLER God's ways are not yours. And you are not here to question Him. Offer him the salt of penitence. He will give you back the bread of eternal life. He is all merciful. That is all you need to know. OLD SALIERI All I ever wanted was to sing to Him. That's His doing, isn't it? He gave me that longing - then made me mute. Why? Tell me that. If He didn't want me to serve Him with music, why implant the desire, like a lust in my body, then deny me the talent? Go on, tell me! Speak for Him! VOGLER My son, no one can speak for God. OLD SALIERI Oh? I thought you did so every day. So speak now. Answer me! VOGLER I do not claim to unravel the mysteries. I treasure them. As you should. OLD SALIERI (impatiently) Oh yes, yes, yes, yes, yes! Always the same stale answers! (intimately to the priest) There is no God of Mercy, Father. Just a God of torture. CUT TO: INT. SALIERI'S APARTMENT - BEDROOM - NIGHT - 1780'S Salieri sits at his desk, staring up at the cross. OLD SALIERI (V.O.) Evening came to that room. I sat there not knowing whether the girl would return or not. I prayed as I'd never prayed before. SALIERI Dear God, enter me now. Fill me with one piece of true music. One piece with your breath in it, so I know that you love me. Please. Just one. Show me one sign of your favour, and I will show mine to Mozart and his wife. I will get him the royal position, and if she comes, I'll receive her with all respect and send her home in joy. Enter me! Enter me! Please! Te imploro. Long, long silence. Salieri stares at the cross. Christ stares back at him impassively. Finally in this silence we hear a faint knocking at the door. Salieri stirs himself. A servant appears. SERVANT That lady is back, sir. SALIERI Show her in. Then go to bed. The Servant bows and leaves. We follow him through: INT. MUSIC ROOM IN SALIERI'S APARTMENT - NIGHT - 1780'S The Servant crosses it and enters: INT. SALON IN SALIERI'S APARTMENT - NIGHT - 1780'S Constanze is sitting on an upright chair, veiled as before, the portfolio of music on her lap. Through the far door leading from the hall, another servant is peering at her. The first servant joins him and shuts the door on the girl, leaving her alone. We stay with her. The clock ticks on the mantelpiece. We hear an old carriage pass in the street below. Nervously she lifts her veil and looks about her. Suddenly Salieri appears from the music room. He is pale and very tight. They regard each other. She smiles and rises to greet him, affecting a relaxed and warm manner, as if to put him at his ease. CONSTANZE Well, I'm here. My husband has gone to a concert. He didn't think I would enjoy it. A pause. CONSTANZE I do apologize for this afternoon. I behaved like a silly girl. Where shall we go? SALIERI What? CONSTANZE Should we stay here? It's a charming room. I love these candlesticks. Were they here earlier? I didn't notice them I suppose I was too nervous. As she talks, she extinguishes the candles in a pair of Venetian candelabra and subsequently other candles around the room. CONSTANZE Wolfgang was given some candlesticks by King George in England, but they were only wood. Oh, excuse me. Let's not talk about him. What do you think of this? It's real lace. Brussels. She turns and takes off her shawl. CONSTANZE Well, it's much too good for every day. I keep saying to Wolfi, don't be so extravagant. Presents are lovely, but we can't afford them. It doesn't do any good. The more I tell him, the more he spends. Oh, excuse me! There I go again. She picks up the portfolio. CONSTANZE Do you still want to look at this? Or don't we need to bother anymore? I imagine we don't, really. She looks at him inquiringly, and drops the portfolio on the floor; pages of music pour out of it. Instantly we hear a massive chord, and the great Qui Tollis from the Mass in C Minor fills the room. To its grand and weighty sound, Constanze starts to undress, watched by the horrified Salieri. Between him and her, music is an active presence, hurting and baffling him. He opens his mouth in distress. The music pounds in his head. The candle flickers over her as she removes her clothes and prepares for his embrace. Suddenly he cries out. SALIERI Go! Go! Go! He snatches up the bell and shakes it frantically, not stopping until the two servants we saw earlier appear at the door. The music stops abruptly. They stare at the appalled and frightened Constanze, who is desperately trying to cover her nakedness. SALIERI Show this woman out! Constanze hurls herself at him. CONSTANZE You shit! You shit! You rotten shit! He seizes her wrists and thrusts her back. Then he leaves the room quickly, slamming the door behind him. Constanze turns and sees the two servants goggling at her in the room. CONSTANZE What are you staring at? Wildly, she picks up the candelabrum and throws it at them. It shatters on the floor. INT. SALIERI'S APARTMENT - BEDROOM - NIGHT - 1780'S CU, Salieri standing, his eyes shut, shaking in distress. He opens them and sees Christ across the room, staring at him from the wall. OLD SALIERI (V.O.) From now on, we are enemies, You and I! CUT TO: INT. OLD SALIERI'S HOSPITAL ROOM - NIGHT - 1823 The old man is reliving the experience. Vogler looks at him, horrified. OLD SALIERI Because You will not enter me, with all my need for you; because You scorn my attempts at virtue; because You choose for Your instrument a boastful, lustful, smutty infantile boy and give me for reward only the ability to recognize the Incarnation; because You are unjust, unfair, unkind, I will block You! I swear it! I will hinder and harm Your creature on earth as far as I am able. I will ruin Your Incarnation. CUT BACK TO: INT. SALIERI'S APARTMENT - BEDROOM - NIGHT - 1780'S CU, the fireplace. In it lies the olivewood Christ on the cross, burning. OLD SALIERI (V.O.) What use after all is Man, if not to teach God His lessons? The cross flames up and disintegrates. Salieri stares at it. CUT TO: INT. MOZART'S APARTMENT - LIVING ROOM - NIGHT - 1780'S The front door bursts open. Mozart stumbles in, followed by EMMANUEL SCHIKANEDER, three young actresses, and another man, all fairly drunk. Schikaneder (who appears everywhere accompanied by young girls) is a large, fleshy, extravagant man of about thirty-five. MOZART Stanzi! Stanzi! Stanzi-Manzi! The others laugh. MOZART Sssh! SCHIKANEDER (imitating Mozart) Stanzi-Manzi-Banzi-Wanzi! MOZART Sssh! Stay here. He walks unsteadily to the bedroom door and opens it. SCHIKANEDER (to the girls, very tipsy) Sssh! You're dishgrashful! INT. MOZART'S APARTMENT - BEDROOM - NIGHT - 1780'S Constanze lies in bed, her back turned to her husband, who comes into the room and shuts the door. MOZART (playfully) Stanzi? How's my mouse? Mouse-wouse? I'm back - puss-wuss is back! She turns around abruptly. She looks dreadful; her eyes red with weeping. Mozart is shocked. MOZART Stanzi! He approaches the bed and sits on it. Immediately she starts crying again, desperately. MOZART What's the matter? What is it? Stanzi! He holds her and she clings to him in a fierce embrace, crying a flood of tears. MOZART Stop it now. Stop it. I've brought some friends to meet you. They're next door waiting. Do we have anything to eat? They're all starving. CONSTANZE Tell them to go away. I don't want to see anybody. MOZART What's the matter with you? CONSTANZE Tell them to go! MOZART Sssh. What is it? Tell me. CONSTANZE No! MOZART Yes! CONSTANZE I love you! I love you! She starts crying again, throwing her arms around his neck. CONSTANZE I love you. Please stay with me. I'm frightened. INT. THE ROYAL PALACE - DINING ROOM - DAY - 1780'S Joseph sits eating. A butler serves him goat's milk to drink. Joseph is holding a memorandum from Salieri in his hand. Salieri stands before him. JOSEPH I don't think you understand me, Court Composer. SALIERI Majesty, I did. Believe me, it was a most agonizing. decision. But finally, I simply could not recommend Herr Mozart. JOSEPH Why not? SALIERI Well, Sire, I made some inquiries in a routine way. I was curious to know why he had so few pupils. It is rather alarming. JOSEPH Oh? With a gesture Joseph dismisses the butler, who bows and leaves the room. SALIERI Majesty, I don't like to talk against a fellow musician. JOSEPH Of course not. SALIERI I have to tell you, Mozart is not entirely to be trusted alone with young ladies. JOSEPH Really? SALIERI As a matter of fact, one of my own pupils - a very young singer - told me she was - er - well! JOSEPH Yes? SALIERI Molested, Majesty. Twice, in the course of the same lesson. A pause. JOSEPH Ah-ha. Well. There it is. INT. SALIERI'S HOUSE - STAIRCASE - VIENNA - DAY - 1780'S Salieri has just returned from the palace and is coming up the staircase. He is met by his servant. SERVANT Sir, there is a Herr Mozart waiting for you in the salon. Salieri is plainly alarmed. SALIERI What does he want? SERVANT He didn't say, sir. I told him I didn't know when you would be back, but he insisted on waiting. SALIERI Come with me. And stay in the room. He mounts the stairs. INT. SALIERI'S APARTMENT - SALON - DAY - 1780'S Mozart is waiting for Salieri, holding a portfolio. Salieri approaches him nervously. Mozart stands not belligerently, but humbly. SALIERI Herr Mozart, what brings you here? MOZART Your Excellency, you requested some specimens of my work. Here they are. I don't have to tell you how much I need your help. I truly appreciate your looking at these. I have pressures on me - financial pressures. As you know, I'm a married man now. SALIERI So you are. How is your pretty wife? MOZART She is well. She is - well, actually, I'm about to become a father! She only told me last night. You are the first to know. SALIERI I'm flattered. And congratulations to you, of course. MOZART So you see, this post is very important to me right now. Salieri looks at him in distress. SALIERI Why didn't you come to me yesterday, Mozart? This is a most painful situation. Yesterday I could have helped you. Today, I can't. MOZART Why? Here is the music. It's here. I am submitting it humbly. Isn't that what you wanted? SALIERI I have just come from the palace. The post has been filled. MOZART Filled? That's impossible! They haven't even seen my work. I need this post. Please, can't you help me? Please! SALIERI My dear Mozart, there is no one in the world I would rather help, but now it is too late. MOZART Whom did they choose? SALIERI Herr Sommer. MOZART Sommer? Herr Sommer? But the man's a fool! He's a total mediocrity. SALIERI No, no, no: he has yet to achieve mediocrity. MOZART But I can't lose this post, I simply can't! Excellency, please. Let's go to the palace, and you can explain to the Emperor that Herr Sommer is an awful choice. He could actually do musical harm to the Princess! SALIERI An implausible idea. Between you and me, no one in the world could do musical harm to the Princess Elizabeth. Mozart chuckles delightedly. Salieri offers him a glass of white dessert and a spoon. Mozart takes it absently and goes on talking. MOZART Look, I must have pupils. Without pupils I can't manage. SALIERI You don't mean to tell me you are living in poverty? MOZART No, but I'm broke. I'm always broke. I don't know why. SALIERI It has been said, my friend, that you are inclined to live somewhat above your means. MOZART How can anyone say that? We have no cook, no maid. We have no footman. Nothing at all! SALIERI How is that possible? You give concerts, don't you? I hear they are quite successful. MOZART They're stupendously successful. You can't get a seat. The only problem is none will hire me. They all want to hear me play, but they won't let me teach their daughters. As if I was some kind of fiend. I'm not a fiend! SALIERI Of course not. MOZART Do you have a daughter? SALIERI I'm afraid not. MOZART Well, could you lend me some money till you have one?

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Amadeus Script at IMSDb. var _gaq = _gaq || []; _gaq.push(['_setAccount', 'UA-3785444-3']); _gaq.push(['_trackPageview']); (function() { var ga = document.createElement('script'); ga.type = 'text/javascript'; ga.async = true; ga.src = ('https:' == document.location.protocol ? 'https://ssl' : 'http://www') + '.google-analytics.com/ga.js'; var s = document.getElementsByTagName('script')[0]; s.parentNode.insertBefore(ga, s); })(); The Internet Movie Script Database (IMSDb) The web's largest movie script resource! Search IMSDb Alphabetical # A B C D E F G H I J K L M N O P Q R S T U V W X Y Z Genre Action Adventure Animation Comedy Crime Drama Family Fantasy Film-Noir Horror Musical Mystery Romance Sci-Fi Short Thriller War Western Sponsor TV Transcripts Futurama Seinfeld South Park Stargate SG-1 Lost The 4400 International French scripts Movie Software Rip from DVD Rip Blu-Ray Latest Comments Star Wars: Revenge of the Sith10/10 Star Wars: The Force Awakens10/10 Batman Begins9/10 Collateral10/10 Jackie Brown8/10 Movie Chat Message Yell ! ALL SCRIPTS if (window!= top) top.location.href=location.href // --> AMADEUS "AMADEUS" by Peter Shaffer Final Draft INT. STAIRCASE OUTSIDE OLD SALIERI'S SALON - NIGHT - 1823 Total darkness. We hear an old man's voice, distinct and in distress. It is OLD SALIERI. He uses a mixture of English and occasionally Italian. OLD SALIERI Mozart! Mozart! Mozart. Forgive me! Forgive your assassin! Mozart! A faint light illuminates the screen. Flickeringly, we see an eighteenth century balustrade and a flight of stone stairs. We are looking down into the wall of the staircase from the point of view of the landing. Up the stair is coming a branched candlestick held by Salieri's VALET. By his side is Salieri's COOK, bearing a large dish of sugared cakes and biscuits. Both men are desperately worried: the Valet is thin and middle-aged; the Cook, plump and Italian. It is very cold. They wear shawls over their night-dresses and clogs on their feet. They wheeze as they climb. The candles throw their shadows up onto the peeling walls of the house, which is evidently an old one and in bad decay. A cat scuttles swiftly between their bare legs, as they reach the salon door. The Valet tries the handle. It is locked. Behind it the voice goes on, rising in volume. OLD SALIERI Show some mercy! I beg you. I beg you! Show mercy to a guilty man! The Valet knocks gently on the door. The voice stops. VALET Open the door, Signore! Please! Be good now! We've brought you something special. Something you're going to love. Silence. VALET Signore Salieri! Open the door. Come now. Be good! The voice of Old Salieri continues again, further off now, and louder. We hear a noise as if a window is being opened. OLD SALIERI Mozart! Mozart! I confess it! Listen! I confess! The two servants look at each other in alarm. Then the Valet hands the candlestick to the Cook and takes a sugared cake from the dish, scrambling as quickly as he can back down the stairs. EXT. THE STREET OUTSIDE SALIERI'S HOUSE - VIENNA - NIGHT The street is filled with people: ten cabs with drivers, five children, fifteen adults, two doormen, fifteen dancing couples and a sled and three dogs. It is a windy night. Snow is falling and whirling about. People are passing on foot, holding their cloaks tightly around them. Some of them are revelers in fancy dress: they wear masks on their faces or hanging around their necks, as if returning from parties. Now they are glancing up at the facade of the old house. The window above the street is open and Old Salieri stands there calling to the sky: a sharp-featured, white-haired Italian over seventy years old, wearing a stained dressing gown. OLD SALIERI Mozart! Mozart! I cannot bear it any longer! I confess! I confess what I did! I'm guilty! I killed you! Sir I confess! I killed you! The door of the house bursts open. The Valet hobbles out, holding the sugared cake. The wind catches at his shawl. OLD SALIERI Mozart, perdonami! Forgive your assassin! Piet ! Piet ! Forgive your assassin! Forgive me! Forgive! Forgive! VALET (looking up to the window) That's all right, Signore! He heard you! He forgave you! He wants you to go inside now and shut the window! Old Salieri stares down at him. Some of the passersby have now stopped and are watching this spectacle. VALET Come on, Signore! Look what I have for you! I can't give it to you from down here, can I? Old Salieri looks at him in contempt. Then he turns away back into the room, shutting the window with a bang. Through the glass, the old man stares down at the group of onlookers in the street. They stare back at him in confusion. BYSTANDER Who is that? VALET No one, sir. He'll be all right. Poor man. He's a little unhappy, you know. He makes a sign indicating 'crazy,' and goes back inside the house. The onlookers keep staring. CUT TO: INT. LANDING OUTSIDE OLD SALIERI'S SALON - NIGHT The Cook is standing holding the candlestick in one hand, the dish of cakes in the other. The Valet arrives, panting. VALET Did he open? The Cook, scared, shakes his head: no. The Valet again knocks on the door. VALET Here I am, Signore. Now open the door. He eats the sugared cake in his hand, elaborately and noisily. VALET Mmmm - this is good! This is the most delicious thing I ever ate, believe me! Signore, you don't know what you're missing! Mmmm! We hear a thump from inside the bedroom. VALET Now that's enough, Signore! Open! We hear a terrible, throaty groaning. VALET If you don't open this door, we're going to eat everything. There'll be nothing left for you. And I'm not going to bring you anything more. He looks down. From under the door we see a trickle of blood flowing. In horror, the two men stare at it. The dish of cakes falls from the Cook's hand and shatters. He sets the candlestick down on the floor. Both servants run at the door frantically - once, twice, three times - and the frail lock gives. The door flies open. Immediately, the stormy, frenzied opening of Mozart's Symphony No. 25 (the Little G Minor) begins. We see what the servants see. INT. OLD SALIERI'S SALON - NIGHT Old Salieri lies on the floor in a pool of blood, an open razor in his hand. He has cut his throat but is still alive. He gestures at them. They run to him. Barely, we glimpse the room - an old chair, old tables piled with books, a forte- piano, a chamber-pot on the floor - as the Valet and the Cook struggle to lift their old Master, and bind his bleeding throat with a napkin. INT. BALLROOM - NIGHT Twenty-five dancing couples, fifty guests, ten servants, full orchestra. As the music slows a little, we see a Masquerade Ball in progress. A crowded room of dancers is executing the slow portion of a dance fashionable in the early 1820's. EXT. STREET OUTSIDE SALIERI'S HOUSE - NIGHT As the fast music returns, we see Old Salieri being carried out of his house on a stretcher by two attendants, and placed in a horse-drawn wagon under the supervision of a middle- aged doctor in a tall hat. This is DOCTOR GULDEN. He gets in beside his patient. The driver whips up the horse, and the wagon dashes off through the still-falling snow. MONTAGE: EXT. FOUR STREETS OF VIENNA AND INT. THE WAGON - NIGHT The wagon is galloping through the snowy streets of the city. Inside the conveyance we see Old Salieri wrapped in blankets, half-conscious, being held by the hospital attendants. Doctor Gulden stares at him grimly. The wagon arrives outside the General Hospital of Vienna. CUT TO: INT. A HOSPITAL CORRIDOR - LATE AFTERNOON A wide, white-washed corridor. Doctor Gulden is walking down it with a priest, a man of about forty, concerned, but somewhat self-important. This is Father VOGLER, Chaplain at the hospital. In the corridor as they walk, we note several patients -- some of them visibly disturbed mentally. All patients wear white linen smocks. Doctor Gulden wears a dark frock-coat; Vogler, a cassock. DOCTOR GULDEN He's going to live. It's much harder to cut your throat than most people imagine. They stop outside a door. DOCTOR GULDEN Here we are. Do you wish me to come in with you? VOGLER No, Doctor. Thank you. Vogler nods and opens the door. INT. OLD SALIERI'S HOSPITAL ROOM - LATE AFTERNOON A bare room - one of the best available in the General Hospital. It contains a bed, a table with candles, chairs, a small forte-piano of the early nineteenth century. As Vogler enters, Old Salieri is sitting in a wheel-chair, looking out the window. His back is to us. The priest closes the door quietly behind him. VOGLER Herr Salieri? Old Salieri turns around to look at him. We see that his throat is bandaged expertly. He wears hospital garb, and over it the Civilian Medal and Chain with which we will later see the EMPEROR invest him. OLD SALIERI What do you want? VOGLER I am Father Vogler. I am a Chaplain here. I thought you might like to talk to someone. OLD SALIERI About what? VOGLER You tried to take your life. You do remember that, don't you? OLD SALIERI So? VOGLER In the sight of God that is a sin. OLD SALIERI What do you want? VOGLER Do you understand that you have sinned? Gravely. OLD SALIERI Leave me alone. VOGLER I cannot leave alone a soul in pain. OLD SALIERI Do you know who I am? You never heard of me, did you? VOGLER That makes no difference. All men are equal in God's eyes. OLD SALIERI Are they? VOGLER Offer me your confession. I can offer you God's forgiveness. OLD SALIERI I do not seek forgiveness. VOGLER My son, there is something dreadful on your soul. Unburden it to me. I'm here only for you. Please talk to me. OLD SALIERI How well are you trained in music? VOGLER I know a little. I studied it in my youth. OLD SALIERI Where? VOGLER Here in Vienna. OLD SALIERI Then you must know this. He propels his wheelchair to the forte-piano, and plays an unrecognizable melody. VOGLER I can't say I do. What is it? OLD SALIERI I'm surprised you don't know. It was a very popular tune in its day. I wrote it. How about this? He plays another tune. OLD SALIERI This one brought down the house when we played it first. He plays it with growing enthusiasm. CUT TO: INT. THE STAGE OF AN OPERA HOUSE - NIGHT - 1780'S We see the pretty soprano KATHERINA CAVALIERI, now about twenty-four, dressed in an elaborate mythological Persian costume, singing on stage. She's near the end of a very florid aria by Salieri. The audience applauds wildly. INT. OLD SALIERI'S HOSPITAL ROOM - LATE AFTERNOON - 1823 OLD SALIERI (taking his hands off the keys) Well? VOGLER I regret it is not too familiar. OLD SALIERI Can you recall no melody of mine? I was the most famous composer in Europe when you were still a boy. I wrote forty operas alone. What about this little thing? Slyly he plays the opening measure of Mozart's Eine Kleine Nachtmusik. The priest nods, smiling suddenly, and hums a little with the music. VOGLER Oh, I know that! That's charming! I didn't know you wrote that. OLD SALIERI I didn't. That was Mozart. Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart. You know who that is? VOGLER Of course. The man you accuse yourself of killing. OLD SALIERI Ah - you've heard that? VOGLER All Vienna has heard that. OLD SALIERI ( eagerly) And do they believe it? VOGLER Is it true? OLD SALIERI Do you believe it? VOGLER Should I? A very long pause. Salieri stares above the priest, seemingly lost in his own private world. VOGLER For God's sake, my son, if you have anything to confess, do it now! Give yourself some peace! A further pause. VOGLER Do you hear me? OLD SALIERI He was murdered, Father! Mozart! Cruelly murdered. Pause. VOGLER (almost whispering) Yes? Did you do it? Suddenly Old Salieri turns to him, a look of extreme innocence. OLD SALIERI He was my idol! I can't remember a time when I didn't know his name! When I was only fourteen he was already famous. Even in Legnago - the tiniest town in Italy - I knew of him. CUT TO: EXT. A SMALL TOWN SQUARE IN LOMBARDY, ITALY - DAY - 1780'S There are twelve children and twenty adults in the square. We see the fourteen-year-old Salieri blindfolded, playing a game of Blindman's Bluff with other Italian children, running about in the bright sunshine and laughing. OLD SALIERI (V.O.) I was still playing childish games when he was playing music for kings and emperors. Even the Pope in Rome! CUT TO: INT. A SALON IN THE VATICAN - DAY - 1780'S We see the six-year-old MOZART, also blindfolded, seated in a gilded chair on a pile of books, playing the harpsichord for the POPE and a suite of CARDINALS and other churchmen. Beside the little boy stands LEOPOLD, his father, smirking with pride. OLD SALIERI (V.O.) I admit I was jealous when I heard the tales they told about him. Not of the brilliant little prodigy himself, but of his father, who had taught him everything. The piece finishes. Leopold lowers the lid of the harpsichord and lifts up his little son to stand on it. Mozart removes the blindfold to show a pale little face with staring eyes. Both father and son bow. A Papal Chamberlain presents Leopold with a gold snuff box whilst the cardinals decorously applaud. Over this scene Old Salieri speaks. OLD SALIERI (V.O.) My father did not care for music. He wanted me only to be a merchant, like himself. As anonymous as he was. When I told how I wished I could be like Mozart, he would say, Why? Do you want to be a trained monkey? Would you like me to drag you around Europe doing tricks like a circus freak? How could I tell him what music meant to me? CUT TO: EXT. A COUNTRY CHURCH IN NORTH ITALY - DAY - 1780'S Serene music of the Italian Baroque - Pergolesi's Stabat Mater - sung by a choir of boys with organ accompaniment. We see the outside of the 17th-century church sitting in the wide landscape of Lombardy: sunlit fields, a dusty, white road, poplar trees. INT. THE CHURCH AT LEGNAGO - DAY - 1780'S The music continues and swells. We see the twelve-year-old Salieri seated between his plump and placid parents in the congregation, listening in rapture. His father is a heavy- looking, self-approving man, obviously indifferent to the music. A large and austere Christ on the cross hangs over the altar. Candles burn below his image. OLD SALIERI (V.O.) Even then a spray of sounded notes could make me dizzy, almost to falling. The boy falls forward on his knees. So do his parents and the other members of the congregation. He stares up at Christ who stares back at him. OLD SALIERI (V.O.) Whilst my father prayed earnestly to God to protect commerce, I would offer up secretly the proudest prayer a boy could think of. Lord, make me a great composer! Let me celebrate your glory through music - and be celebrated myself! Make me famous through the world, dear God! Make me immortal! After I die let people speak my name forever with love for what I wrote! In return I vow I will give you my chastity - my industry, my deepest humility, every hour of my life. And I will help my fellow man all I can. Amen and amen! The music swells to a crescendo. The candles flare. We see the Christ through the flames looking at the boy benignly. OLD SALIERI (V.O.) And do you know what happened? A miracle! INT. DINING ROOM IN THE SALIERI HOUSE - DAY - 1780'S CU, a large cooked fish on a thick china plate. Camera pulls back to show the Salieri family at dinner. Father Salieri sits at the head of the table, a napkin tucked into his chin. Mother Salieri is serving the fish into portions and handing them round. Two maiden aunts are in attendance, wearing black, and of course the young boy. Father Salieri receives his plate of fish and starts to eat greedily. Suddenly there is a gasp - he starts to choke violently on a fish bone. All the women get up and crowd around him, thumping and pummeling him, but it is in vain. Father Salieri collapses. INT. OLD SALIERI'S HOSPITAL ROOM - LATE AFTERNOON - 1823 OLD SALIERI Suddenly he was dead. Just like that! And my life changed forever. My mother said, Go. Study music if you really want to. Off with you! And off I went as quick as I could and never saw Italy again. Of course, I knew God had arranged it all; that was obvious. One moment I was a frustrated boy in an obscure little town. The next I was here, in Vienna, city of musicians, sixteen years old and studying under Gluck! Gluck, Father. Do you know who he was? The greatest composer of his time. And he loved me! That was the wonder. He taught me everything he knew. And when I was ready, introduced me personally to the Emperor! Emperor Joseph - the musical king! Within a few years I was his court composer. Wasn't that incredible? Imperial Composer to His Majesty! Actually the man had no ear at all, but what did it matter? He adored my music, that was enough. Night after night I sat right next to the Emperor of Austria, playing duets with him, correcting the royal sight-reading. Tell me, if you had been me, wouldn't you have thought God had accepted your vow? And believe me, I honoured it. I was a model of virtue. I kept my hands off women, worked hours every day teaching students, many of them for free, sitting on endless committees to help poor musicians - work and work and work, that was all my life. And it was wonderful! Everybody liked me. I liked myself. I was the most successful musician in Vienna. And the happiest. Till he came. Mozart. CUT TO: INT. THE ARCHBISHOP OF SALZBURG'S RESIDENCE - VIENNA - DAY - 1780'S A grand room crowded with guests. A small group of Gypsy musicians is playing in the background. Thirteen members of the Archbishop's orchestra - all wind players, complete with 18th-century wind instruments: elaborate-looking bassoons, basset horns, etc. and wearing their employer's livery - are laying out music on stands at one end of the room. At the other end is a large gilded chair, bearing the arms of the ARCHBISHOP OF SALZBURG. A throng of people is standing, talking, and preparing to sit upon the rows of waiting chairs to hear a concert. OLD SALIERI (V.O.) One day he came to Vienna to play some of his music at the residence of his employer, the Prince-Archbishop of Salzburg. Eagerly I went there to seek him out. That night changed my life. We see Salieri, age thirty-one, a neat, carefully turned-cut man in decent black clothes and clean white linen, walking through the crowd of guests. We follow him. OLD SALIERI (V.O.) As I went through the salon, I played a game with myself. This man had written his first concerto at the age of four; his first symphony at seven; a full-scale opera at twelve. Did it show? Is talent like that written on the face? We see shots of assorted young men staring back at Salieri as he moves through the crowd. OLD SALIERI (V.O.) Which one of them could he be? Some of the men recognize Salieri and bow respectfully. Then suddenly a servant bearing a large tray of cakes and pastries stalks past. Instantly riveted by the sight of such delights, Salieri follows him out of the Grand Salon. INT. A PALACE CORRIDOR - DAY - 1780'S The servant marches along bearing his tray of pastries aloft. Salieri follows him. The servant turns into: INT. BUFFET ROOM IN THE PALACE - DAY - 1780'S Salieri's POV: several tables, dressed to the floor with cloths are loaded with many plates of confectionery. It is, in fact, Salieri's idea of paradise! The servant puts his tray down on one of the tables and withdraws from the room. INT. A PALACE CORRIDOR - DAY - 1780'S Salieri turns away so as not to be noticed by the servant. As soon as the man disappears, Salieri sneaks into the buffet room. INT. BUFFET ROOM IN THE PALACE - DAY - 1780'S Salieri enters the room and looks about him cautiously. He is salivating with anticipation as he stares at the feast of sweet things. His attention is attracted in particular by a huge pile of dark chocolate balls arranged in the shape of a pineapple. He reaches out a hand to steal one of the balls, but at the same moment he hears giggling coming toward him. He ducks down behind the pastry table. A girl - CONSTANZE - rushes into the room. She runs straight across it and hides herself behind one of the tables. After a beat of total silence, MOZART runs into the room, stops, and looks around. He is age twenty-six, wearing a fine wig and a brilliant coat with the insignia of the Archbishop of Salzburg upon it. He is puzzled; Constanze has disappeared. Baffled, he turns and is about to leave the room, when Constanze suddenly squeaks from under the cloth like a tiny mouse. Instantly Mozart drops to all fours and starts crawling across the floor, meowing and hissing like a naughty cat. Watched by an astonished Salieri, Mozart disappears under the cloth and obviously pounces upon Constanze. We hear a high-pitched giggle, which is going to characterize Mozart throughout the film. CUT TO: INT. PALACE GRAND SALON - DAY - 1780'S The throng is mostly seated. The musicians are in their places, holding their various exotic-looking wind instruments; the candles are all lit. A Majordomo appears and bangs his staff on the floor for attention. Immediately COLLOREDO, Prince-Archbishop of Salzburg enters. He is a small self- important figure of fifty in a wig, surmounted by a scarlet skullcap. He is followed by his Chamberlain, the Count ARCO. Everyone stands. The Archbishop goes to his throne and sits. His guests sit also. Arco gives the signal to start the music. Nothing happens. Instead, a wind musician gets up, approaches the Chamberlain and whispers in his ear. Arco in turn whispers to the Archbishop. ARCO Mozart is not here. COLLOREDO Where is he? ARCO They're looking for him, Your Grace. INT. A PALACE CORRIDOR - DAY - 1780'S Three servants are opening doors and looking into rooms going off the corridor. CUT TO: INT. PALACE GRAND SALON - DAY - 1780'S The guests are turning around and looking at the Archbishop. The musicians are watching. There is puzzlement and a murmur of comment. The Archbishop tightens his lip. COLLOREDO (to Arco) We'll start without him. INT. PALACE BUFFET ROOM - DAY - 1780'S Mozart is on his knees before the tablecloth, which reaches to the floor. Under it is Constanze. We hear her giggling as he talks. MOZART Miaouw! Miaouw! Mouse-wouse? It's Puss-wuss, fangs-wangs. Paws-claws. Pounce-bounce! He grabs her ankle. She screams. He pulls her out by her leg. CONSTANZE Stop it. Stop it! They roll on the floor. He tickles her. CONSTANZE Stop it! MOZART I am! I am! I'm stopping it - slowly. You see! Look, I've stopped. Now we are going back. He tries to drag her back under the table. CONSTANZE No! No! No! MOZART Yes! Back! Back! Listen - don't you know where you are? CONSTANZE Where? MOZART We are in the Residence of the Fartsbishop of Salzburg. CONSTANZE Fartsbishop! She laughs delightedly, then addresses an imaginary Archbishop. CONSTANZE Your Grace, I've got something to tell you. I want to complain about this man. MOZART Go ahead, tell him. Tell them all. They won't understand you anyway. CONSTANZE Why not? MOZART Because here everything goes backwards. People walk backwards, dance backwards, sing backwards, and talk backwards. CONSTANZE That's stupid. MOZART Why? People fart backwards. CONSTANZE Do you think that's funny? MOZART Yes, I think it's brilliant. You've been doing it for years. He gives a high pitched giggle. CONSTANZE Oh, ha, ha, ha. MOZART Sra-I'm-sick! Sra-I'm sick! CONSTANZE Yes, you are. You're very sick. MOZART No, no. Say it backwards, shit-wit. Sra-I'm-sick Say it backwards! CONSTANZE (working it out) Sra-I'm-sick. Sick - kiss I'm - my Kiss my! Sra-I'm-sick - Kiss my arse! MOZART Em iram! Em iram! CONSTANZE No, I'm not playing this game. MOZART No, this is serious. Say it backwards. CONSTANZE No! MOZART Just say it - you'll see. It's very serious. Em iram! Em iram! CONSTANZE Iram - marry Em - marry me! No, no! You're a fiend. I'm not going to marry a fiend. A dirty fiend at that. MOZART Ui-vol-i-tub! CONSTANZE Tub - but i-tub - but I vol - love but I love ui - You. I love you! The mood becomes suddenly softer. She kisses him. They embrace. Then he spoils it. MOZART Tish-I'm tee. What's that? CONSTANZE What? MOZART Tish-I'm-tee. CONSTANZE Eat MOZART Yes. CONSTANZE Eat my - ah! Shocked, she strikes at him. At the same moment the music starts in the salon next door. We hear the opening of the Serenade for Thirteen Wind Instruments, K. MOZART My music! They've started! They've started without me! He leaps up, disheveled and rumpled and runs out of the room. Salieri watches in amazement and disgust. CUT TO: INT. PALACE CORRIDOR - DAY - 1780'S The music is louder. Mozart hastens towards the Grand Salon away from the buffet room, adjusting his dress as he goes. INT. GRAND SALON - DAY - 1780'S The opening of the Serenade is being tentatively conducted by the leader of the wind-musicians. Guests turn around as Mozart appears - bowing to the Archbishop - and walks with an attempt at dignity to the dais where the wind band is playing. The leader yields his place to the composer and Mozart smoothly takes over conducting. Constanze, deeply embarrassed, sneaks into the room and seats herself at the back. INT. PALACE BUFFET ROOM - DAY - 1780'S The music fades down. Salieri stands shocked from his inadvertent eavesdropping. After a second he moves almost in a trance toward the door; the music dissolves. INT. GRAND SALON - DAY - 1780'S Mozart is conducting the Adagio from his Serenade (K. 361), guiding the thirteen wind instrumentalists. The squeezebox opening of the movement begins. Salieri appears at the door at the back of the salon. He stares in disbelief at Mozart. OLD SALIERI (V.O.) So that was he! That giggling, dirty- minded creature I'd just seen crawling on the floor. Mozart. The phenomenon whose legend had haunted my youth. Impossible. The music swells up and Salieri listens to it with eyes closed - amazed, transported - suddenly engulfed by the sound. Finally it fades down and away and changes into applause. Salieri opens his eyes. The audience is clearly delighted. Mozart bows to them, also delighted. Colloredo rises abruptly, and without looking at Mozart or applauding and leaves the Salon. Count Arco approaches the composer. Mozart turns to him, radiant. ARCO Follow me, please. The Archbishop would like a word. MOZART Certainly! He follows Arco out of the room, through a throng of admirers. INT. ANOTHER PALACE CORRIDOR - DAY - 1780'S Mozart and Arco walk side by side. They pass Salieri who is staring at Mozart in fascination. As they disappear, he steals toward the music stands, unable to help himself. MOZART Well, I think that went off remarkably well, don't you? ARCO Indeed. MOZART These Viennese certainly know good music when they hear it. ARCO His Grace is very angry with you. MOZART What do you mean? They arrive at the door of Colloredo's private apartment. ARCO You are to come in here and ask his pardon. Arco opens the door. INT. ARCHBISHOP'S PRIVATE ROOM - DAY - 1780'S The Archbishop is sitting, chatting to quests. Among them are several ladies. Arco approaches him obsequiously. ARCO Your Grace. COLLOREDO Ah, Mozart. Why? MOZART Why what, sir? COLLOREDO Why do I have to be humiliated in front of my guests by one of my own servants? MOZART Humiliated? COLLOREDO How much provocation am I to endure from you? The more license I allow you, the more you take. The company watches this scene, deeply interested. MOZART If His Grace is not satisfied with me, he can dismiss me. COLLOREDO I wish you to return immediately to Salzburg. Your father is waiting for you there patiently. I will speak to you further when I come. MOZART No, Your Grace! I mean with all humility, no. I would rather you dismissed me. It's obvious I don't satisfy. COLLOREDO Then try harder, Mozart. I have no intention of dismissing you. You will remain in my service and learn your place. Go now. He extends his hand to be kissed. Mozart does it with a furious grace, then leaves the room. As he opens the door we see: INT. PALACE CORRIDOR - DAY - 1780'S A group of people who have attended the concert, among them Constanze, are standing outside the private apartment. At sight of the composer they break into sustained applause. Mozart is suddenly delighted. He throws the door wide open so that the guests can see into the private apartment where the Archbishop sits

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Amadeus Script at IMSDb. var _gaq = _gaq || []; _gaq.push(['_setAccount', 'UA-3785444-3']); _gaq.push(['_trackPageview']); (function() { var ga = document.createElement('script'); ga.type = 'text/javascript'; ga.async = true; ga.src = ('https:' == document.location.protocol ? 'https://ssl' : 'http://www') + '.google-analytics.com/ga.js'; var s = document.getElementsByTagName('script')[0]; s.parentNode.insertBefore(ga, s); })(); The Internet Movie Script Database (IMSDb) The web's largest movie script resource! Search IMSDb Alphabetical # A B C D E F G H I J K L M N O P Q R S T U V W X Y Z Genre Action Adventure Animation Comedy Crime Drama Family Fantasy Film-Noir Horror Musical Mystery Romance Sci-Fi Short Thriller War Western Sponsor TV Transcripts Futurama Seinfeld South Park Stargate SG-1 Lost The 4400 International French scripts Movie Software Rip from DVD Rip Blu-Ray Latest Comments Star Wars: Revenge of the Sith10/10 Star Wars: The Force Awakens10/10 Batman Begins9/10 Collateral10/10 Jackie Brown8/10 Movie Chat Message Yell ! ALL SCRIPTS if (window!= top) top.location.href=location.href // --> AMADEUS "AMADEUS" by Peter Shaffer Final Draft INT. STAIRCASE OUTSIDE OLD SALIERI'S SALON - NIGHT - 1823 Total darkness. We hear an old man's voice, distinct and in distress. It is OLD SALIERI. He uses a mixture of English and occasionally Italian. OLD SALIERI Mozart! Mozart! Mozart. Forgive me! Forgive your assassin! Mozart! A faint light illuminates the screen. Flickeringly, we see an eighteenth century balustrade and a flight of stone stairs. We are looking down into the wall of the staircase from the point of view of the landing. Up the stair is coming a branched candlestick held by Salieri's VALET. By his side is Salieri's COOK, bearing a large dish of sugared cakes and biscuits. Both men are desperately worried: the Valet is thin and middle-aged; the Cook, plump and Italian. It is very cold. They wear shawls over their night-dresses and clogs on their feet. They wheeze as they climb. The candles throw their shadows up onto the peeling walls of the house, which is evidently an old one and in bad decay. A cat scuttles swiftly between their bare legs, as they reach the salon door. The Valet tries the handle. It is locked. Behind it the voice goes on, rising in volume. OLD SALIERI Show some mercy! I beg you. I beg you! Show mercy to a guilty man! The Valet knocks gently on the door. The voice stops. VALET Open the door, Signore! Please! Be good now! We've brought you something special. Something you're going to love. Silence. VALET Signore Salieri! Open the door. Come now. Be good! The voice of Old Salieri continues again, further off now, and louder. We hear a noise as if a window is being opened. OLD SALIERI Mozart! Mozart! I confess it! Listen! I confess! The two servants look at each other in alarm. Then the Valet hands the candlestick to the Cook and takes a sugared cake from the dish, scrambling as quickly as he can back down the stairs. EXT. THE STREET OUTSIDE SALIERI'S HOUSE - VIENNA - NIGHT The street is filled with people: ten cabs with drivers, five children, fifteen adults, two doormen, fifteen dancing couples and a sled and three dogs. It is a windy night. Snow is falling and whirling about. People are passing on foot, holding their cloaks tightly around them. Some of them are revelers in fancy dress: they wear masks on their faces or hanging around their necks, as if returning from parties. Now they are glancing up at the facade of the old house. The window above the street is open and Old Salieri stands there calling to the sky: a sharp-featured, white-haired Italian over seventy years old, wearing a stained dressing gown. OLD SALIERI Mozart! Mozart! I cannot bear it any longer! I confess! I confess what I did! I'm guilty! I killed you! Sir I confess! I killed you! The door of the house bursts open. The Valet hobbles out, holding the sugared cake. The wind catches at his shawl. OLD SALIERI Mozart, perdonami! Forgive your assassin! Piet ! Piet ! Forgive your assassin! Forgive me! Forgive! Forgive! VALET (looking up to the window) That's all right, Signore! He heard you! He forgave you! He wants you to go inside now and shut the window! Old Salieri stares down at him. Some of the passersby have now stopped and are watching this spectacle. VALET Come on, Signore! Look what I have for you! I can't give it to you from down here, can I? Old Salieri looks at him in contempt. Then he turns away back into the room, shutting the window with a bang. Through the glass, the old man stares down at the group of onlookers in the street. They stare back at him in confusion. BYSTANDER Who is that? VALET No one, sir. He'll be all right. Poor man. He's a little unhappy, you know. He makes a sign indicating 'crazy,' and goes back inside the house. The onlookers keep staring. CUT TO: INT. LANDING OUTSIDE OLD SALIERI'S SALON - NIGHT The Cook is standing holding the candlestick in one hand, the dish of cakes in the other. The Valet arrives, panting. VALET Did he open? The Cook, scared, shakes his head: no. The Valet again knocks on the door. VALET Here I am, Signore. Now open the door. He eats the sugared cake in his hand, elaborately and noisily. VALET Mmmm - this is good! This is the most delicious thing I ever ate, believe me! Signore, you don't know what you're missing! Mmmm! We hear a thump from inside the bedroom. VALET Now that's enough, Signore! Open! We hear a terrible, throaty groaning. VALET If you don't open this door, we're going to eat everything. There'll be nothing left for you. And I'm not going to bring you anything more. He looks down. From under the door we see a trickle of blood flowing. In horror, the two men stare at it. The dish of cakes falls from the Cook's hand and shatters. He sets the candlestick down on the floor. Both servants run at the door frantically - once, twice, three times - and the frail lock gives. The door flies open. Immediately, the stormy, frenzied opening of Mozart's Symphony No. 25 (the Little G Minor) begins. We see what the servants see. INT. OLD SALIERI'S SALON - NIGHT Old Salieri lies on the floor in a pool of blood, an open razor in his hand. He has cut his throat but is still alive. He gestures at them. They run to him. Barely, we glimpse the room - an old chair, old tables piled with books, a forte- piano, a chamber-pot on the floor - as the Valet and the Cook struggle to lift their old Master, and bind his bleeding throat with a napkin. INT. BALLROOM - NIGHT Twenty-five dancing couples, fifty guests, ten servants, full orchestra. As the music slows a little, we see a Masquerade Ball in progress. A crowded room of dancers is executing the slow portion of a dance fashionable in the early 1820's. EXT. STREET OUTSIDE SALIERI'S HOUSE - NIGHT As the fast music returns, we see Old Salieri being carried out of his house on a stretcher by two attendants, and placed in a horse-drawn wagon under the supervision of a middle- aged doctor in a tall hat. This is DOCTOR GULDEN. He gets in beside his patient. The driver whips up the horse, and the wagon dashes off through the still-falling snow. MONTAGE: EXT. FOUR STREETS OF VIENNA AND INT. THE WAGON - NIGHT The wagon is galloping through the snowy streets of the city. Inside the conveyance we see Old Salieri wrapped in blankets, half-conscious, being held by the hospital attendants. Doctor Gulden stares at him grimly. The wagon arrives outside the General Hospital of Vienna. CUT TO: INT. A HOSPITAL CORRIDOR - LATE AFTERNOON A wide, white-washed corridor. Doctor Gulden is walking down it with a priest, a man of about forty, concerned, but somewhat self-important. This is Father VOGLER, Chaplain at the hospital. In the corridor as they walk, we note several patients -- some of them visibly disturbed mentally. All patients wear white linen smocks. Doctor Gulden wears a dark frock-coat; Vogler, a cassock. DOCTOR GULDEN He's going to live. It's much harder to cut your throat than most people imagine. They stop outside a door. DOCTOR GULDEN Here we are. Do you wish me to come in with you? VOGLER No, Doctor. Thank you. Vogler nods and opens the door. INT. OLD SALIERI'S HOSPITAL ROOM - LATE AFTERNOON A bare room - one of the best available in the General Hospital. It contains a bed, a table with candles, chairs, a small forte-piano of the early nineteenth century. As Vogler enters, Old Salieri is sitting in a wheel-chair, looking out the window. His back is to us. The priest closes the door quietly behind him. VOGLER Herr Salieri? Old Salieri turns around to look at him. We see that his throat is bandaged expertly. He wears hospital garb, and over it the Civilian Medal and Chain with which we will later see the EMPEROR invest him. OLD SALIERI What do you want? VOGLER I am Father Vogler. I am a Chaplain here. I thought you might like to talk to someone. OLD SALIERI About what? VOGLER You tried to take your life. You do remember that, don't you? OLD SALIERI So? VOGLER In the sight of God that is a sin. OLD SALIERI What do you want? VOGLER Do you understand that you have sinned? Gravely. OLD SALIERI Leave me alone. VOGLER I cannot leave alone a soul in pain. OLD SALIERI Do you know who I am? You never heard of me, did you? VOGLER That makes no difference. All men are equal in God's eyes. OLD SALIERI Are they? VOGLER Offer me your confession. I can offer you God's forgiveness. OLD SALIERI I do not seek forgiveness. VOGLER My son, there is something dreadful on your soul. Unburden it to me. I'm here only for you. Please talk to me. OLD SALIERI How well are you trained in music? VOGLER I know a little. I studied it in my youth. OLD SALIERI Where? VOGLER Here in Vienna. OLD SALIERI Then you must know this. He propels his wheelchair to the forte-piano, and plays an unrecognizable melody. VOGLER I can't say I do. What is it? OLD SALIERI I'm surprised you don't know. It was a very popular tune in its day. I wrote it. How about this? He plays another tune. OLD SALIERI This one brought down the house when we played it first. He plays it with growing enthusiasm. CUT TO: INT. THE STAGE OF AN OPERA HOUSE - NIGHT - 1780'S We see the pretty soprano KATHERINA CAVALIERI, now about twenty-four, dressed in an elaborate mythological Persian costume, singing on stage. She's near the end of a very florid aria by Salieri. The audience applauds wildly. INT. OLD SALIERI'S HOSPITAL ROOM - LATE AFTERNOON - 1823 OLD SALIERI (taking his hands off the keys) Well? VOGLER I regret it is not too familiar. OLD SALIERI Can you recall no melody of mine? I was the most famous composer in Europe when you were still a boy. I wrote forty operas alone. What about this little thing? Slyly he plays the opening measure of Mozart's Eine Kleine Nachtmusik. The priest nods, smiling suddenly, and hums a little with the music. VOGLER Oh, I know that! That's charming! I didn't know you wrote that. OLD SALIERI I didn't. That was Mozart. Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart. You know who that is? VOGLER Of course. The man you accuse yourself of killing. OLD SALIERI Ah - you've heard that? VOGLER All Vienna has heard that. OLD SALIERI ( eagerly) And do they believe it? VOGLER Is it true? OLD SALIERI Do you believe it? VOGLER Should I? A very long pause. Salieri stares above the priest, seemingly lost in his own private world. VOGLER For God's sake, my son, if you have anything to confess, do it now! Give yourself some peace! A further pause. VOGLER Do you hear me? OLD SALIERI He was murdered, Father! Mozart! Cruelly murdered. Pause. VOGLER (almost whispering) Yes? Did you do it? Suddenly Old Salieri turns to him, a look of extreme innocence. OLD SALIERI He was my idol! I can't remember a time when I didn't know his name! When I was only fourteen he was already famous. Even in Legnago - the tiniest town in Italy - I knew of him. CUT TO: EXT. A SMALL TOWN SQUARE IN LOMBARDY, ITALY - DAY - 1780'S There are twelve children and twenty adults in the square. We see the fourteen-year-old Salieri blindfolded, playing a game of Blindman's Bluff with other Italian children, running about in the bright sunshine and laughing. OLD SALIERI (V.O.) I was still playing childish games when he was playing music for kings and emperors. Even the Pope in Rome! CUT TO: INT. A SALON IN THE VATICAN - DAY - 1780'S We see the six-year-old MOZART, also blindfolded, seated in a gilded chair on a pile of books, playing the harpsichord for the POPE and a suite of CARDINALS and other churchmen. Beside the little boy stands LEOPOLD, his father, smirking with pride. OLD SALIERI (V.O.) I admit I was jealous when I heard the tales they told about him. Not of the brilliant little prodigy himself, but of his father, who had taught him everything. The piece finishes. Leopold lowers the lid of the harpsichord and lifts up his little son to stand on it. Mozart removes the blindfold to show a pale little face with staring eyes. Both father and son bow. A Papal Chamberlain presents Leopold with a gold snuff box whilst the cardinals decorously applaud. Over this scene Old Salieri speaks. OLD SALIERI (V.O.) My father did not care for music. He wanted me only to be a merchant, like himself. As anonymous as he was. When I told how I wished I could be like Mozart, he would say, Why? Do you want to be a trained monkey? Would you like me to drag you around Europe doing tricks like a circus freak? How could I tell him what music meant to me? CUT TO: EXT. A COUNTRY CHURCH IN NORTH ITALY - DAY - 1780'S Serene music of the Italian Baroque - Pergolesi's Stabat Mater - sung by a choir of boys with organ accompaniment. We see the outside of the 17th-century church sitting in the wide landscape of Lombardy: sunlit fields, a dusty, white road, poplar trees. INT. THE CHURCH AT LEGNAGO - DAY - 1780'S The music continues and swells. We see the twelve-year-old Salieri seated between his plump and placid parents in the congregation, listening in rapture. His father is a heavy- looking, self-approving man, obviously indifferent to the music. A large and austere Christ on the cross hangs over the altar. Candles burn below his image. OLD SALIERI (V.O.) Even then a spray of sounded notes could make me dizzy, almost to falling. The boy falls forward on his knees. So do his parents and the other members of the congregation. He stares up at Christ who stares back at him. OLD SALIERI (V.O.) Whilst my father prayed earnestly to God to protect commerce, I would offer up secretly the proudest prayer a boy could think of. Lord, make me a great composer! Let me celebrate your glory through music - and be celebrated myself! Make me famous through the world, dear God! Make me immortal! After I die let people speak my name forever with love for what I wrote! In return I vow I will give you my chastity - my industry, my deepest humility, every hour of my life. And I will help my fellow man all I can. Amen and amen! The music swells to a crescendo. The candles flare. We see the Christ through the flames looking at the boy benignly. OLD SALIERI (V.O.) And do you know what happened? A miracle! INT. DINING ROOM IN THE SALIERI HOUSE - DAY - 1780'S CU, a large cooked fish on a thick china plate. Camera pulls back to show the Salieri family at dinner. Father Salieri sits at the head of the table, a napkin tucked into his chin. Mother Salieri is serving the fish into portions and handing them round. Two maiden aunts are in attendance, wearing black, and of course the young boy. Father Salieri receives his plate of fish and starts to eat greedily. Suddenly there is a gasp - he starts to choke violently on a fish bone. All the women get up and crowd around him, thumping and pummeling him, but it is in vain. Father Salieri collapses. INT. OLD SALIERI'S HOSPITAL ROOM - LATE AFTERNOON - 1823 OLD SALIERI Suddenly he was dead. Just like that! And my life changed forever. My mother said, Go. Study music if you really want to. Off with you! And off I went as quick as I could and never saw Italy again. Of course, I knew God had arranged it all; that was obvious. One moment I was a frustrated boy in an obscure little town. The next I was here, in Vienna, city of musicians, sixteen years old and studying under Gluck! Gluck, Father. Do you know who he was? The greatest composer of his time. And he loved me! That was the wonder. He taught me everything he knew. And when I was ready, introduced me personally to the Emperor! Emperor Joseph - the musical king! Within a few years I was his court composer. Wasn't that incredible? Imperial Composer to His Majesty! Actually the man had no ear at all, but what did it matter? He adored my music, that was enough. Night after night I sat right next to the Emperor of Austria, playing duets with him, correcting the royal sight-reading. Tell me, if you had been me, wouldn't you have thought God had accepted your vow? And believe me, I honoured it. I was a model of virtue. I kept my hands off women, worked hours every day teaching students, many of them for free, sitting on endless committees to help poor musicians - work and work and work, that was all my life. And it was wonderful! Everybody liked me. I liked myself. I was the most successful musician in Vienna. And the happiest. Till he came. Mozart. CUT TO: INT. THE ARCHBISHOP OF SALZBURG'S RESIDENCE - VIENNA - DAY - 1780'S A grand room crowded with guests. A small group of Gypsy musicians is playing in the background. Thirteen members of the Archbishop's orchestra - all wind players, complete with 18th-century wind instruments: elaborate-looking bassoons, basset horns, etc. and wearing their employer's livery - are laying out music on stands at one end of the room. At the other end is a large gilded chair, bearing the arms of the ARCHBISHOP OF SALZBURG. A throng of people is standing, talking, and preparing to sit upon the rows of waiting chairs to hear a concert. OLD SALIERI (V.O.) One day he came to Vienna to play some of his music at the residence of his employer, the Prince-Archbishop of Salzburg. Eagerly I went there to seek him out. That night changed my life. We see Salieri, age thirty-one, a neat, carefully turned-cut man in decent black clothes and clean white linen, walking through the crowd of guests. We follow him. OLD SALIERI (V.O.) As I went through the salon, I played a game with myself. This man had written his first concerto at the age of four; his first symphony at seven; a full-scale opera at twelve. Did it show? Is talent like that written on the face? We see shots of assorted young men staring back at Salieri as he moves through the crowd. OLD SALIERI (V.O.) Which one of them could he be? Some of the men recognize Salieri and bow respectfully. Then suddenly a servant bearing a large tray of cakes and pastries stalks past. Instantly riveted by the sight of such delights, Salieri follows him out of the Grand Salon. INT. A PALACE CORRIDOR - DAY - 1780'S The servant marches along bearing his tray of pastries aloft. Salieri follows him. The servant turns into: INT. BUFFET ROOM IN THE PALACE - DAY - 1780'S Salieri's POV: several tables, dressed to the floor with cloths are loaded with many plates of confectionery. It is, in fact, Salieri's idea of paradise! The servant puts his tray down on one of the tables and withdraws from the room. INT. A PALACE CORRIDOR - DAY - 1780'S Salieri turns away so as not to be noticed by the servant. As soon as the man disappears, Salieri sneaks into the buffet room. INT. BUFFET ROOM IN THE PALACE - DAY - 1780'S Salieri enters the room and looks about him cautiously. He is salivating with anticipation as he stares at the feast of sweet things. His attention is attracted in particular by a huge pile of dark chocolate balls arranged in the shape of a pineapple. He reaches out a hand to steal one of the balls, but at the same moment he hears giggling coming toward him. He ducks down behind the pastry table. A girl - CONSTANZE - rushes into the room. She runs straight across it and hides herself behind one of the tables. After a beat of total silence, MOZART runs into the room, stops, and looks around. He is age twenty-six, wearing a fine wig and a brilliant coat with the insignia of the Archbishop of Salzburg upon it. He is puzzled; Constanze has disappeared. Baffled, he turns and is about to leave the room, when Constanze suddenly squeaks from under the cloth like a tiny mouse. Instantly Mozart drops to all fours and starts crawling across the floor, meowing and hissing like a naughty cat. Watched by an astonished Salieri, Mozart disappears under the cloth and obviously pounces upon Constanze. We hear a high-pitched giggle, which is going to characterize Mozart throughout the film. CUT TO: INT. PALACE GRAND SALON - DAY - 1780'S The throng is mostly seated. The musicians are in their places, holding their various exotic-looking wind instruments; the candles are all lit. A Majordomo appears and bangs his staff on the floor for attention. Immediately COLLOREDO, Prince-Archbishop of Salzburg enters. He is a small self- important figure of fifty in a wig, surmounted by a scarlet skullcap. He is followed by his Chamberlain, the Count ARCO. Everyone stands. The Archbishop goes to his throne and sits. His guests sit also. Arco gives the signal to start the music. Nothing happens. Instead, a wind musician gets up, approaches the Chamberlain and whispers in his ear. Arco in turn whispers to the Archbishop. ARCO Mozart is not here. COLLOREDO Where is he? ARCO They're looking for him, Your Grace. INT. A PALACE CORRIDOR - DAY - 1780'S Three servants are opening doors and looking into rooms going off the corridor. CUT TO: INT. PALACE GRAND SALON - DAY - 1780'S The guests are turning around and looking at the Archbishop. The musicians are watching. There is puzzlement and a murmur of comment. The Archbishop tightens his lip. COLLOREDO (to Arco) We'll start without him. INT. PALACE BUFFET ROOM - DAY - 1780'S Mozart is on his knees before the tablecloth, which reaches to the floor. Under it is Constanze. We hear her giggling as he talks. MOZART Miaouw! Miaouw! Mouse-wouse? It's Puss-wuss, fangs-wangs. Paws-claws. Pounce-bounce! He grabs her ankle. She screams. He pulls her out by her leg. CONSTANZE Stop it. Stop it! They roll on the floor. He tickles her. CONSTANZE Stop it! MOZART I am! I am! I'm stopping it - slowly. You see! Look, I've stopped. Now we are going back. He tries to drag her back under the table. CONSTANZE No! No! No! MOZART Yes! Back! Back! Listen - don't you know where you are? CONSTANZE Where? MOZART We are in the Residence of the Fartsbishop of Salzburg. CONSTANZE Fartsbishop! She laughs delightedly, then addresses an imaginary Archbishop. CONSTANZE Your Grace, I've got something to tell you. I want to complain about this man. MOZART Go ahead, tell him. Tell them all. They won't understand you anyway. CONSTANZE Why not? MOZART Because here everything goes backwards. People walk backwards, dance backwards, sing backwards, and talk backwards. CONSTANZE That's stupid. MOZART Why? People fart backwards. CONSTANZE Do you think that's funny? MOZART Yes, I think it's brilliant. You've been doing it for years. He gives a high pitched giggle. CONSTANZE Oh, ha, ha, ha. MOZART Sra-I'm-sick! Sra-I'm sick! CONSTANZE Yes, you are. You're very sick. MOZART No, no. Say it backwards, shit-wit. Sra-I'm-sick Say it backwards! CONSTANZE (working it out) Sra-I'm-sick. Sick - kiss I'm - my Kiss my! Sra-I'm-sick - Kiss my arse! MOZART Em iram! Em iram! CONSTANZE No, I'm not playing this game. MOZART No, this is serious. Say it backwards. CONSTANZE No! MOZART Just say it - you'll see. It's very serious. Em iram! Em iram! CONSTANZE Iram - marry Em - marry me! No, no! You're a fiend. I'm not going to marry a fiend. A dirty fiend at that. MOZART Ui-vol-i-tub! CONSTANZE Tub - but i-tub - but I vol - love but I love ui - You. I love you! The mood becomes suddenly softer. She kisses him. They embrace. Then he spoils it. MOZART Tish-I'm tee. What's that? CONSTANZE What? MOZART Tish-I'm-tee. CONSTANZE Eat MOZART Yes. CONSTANZE Eat my - ah! Shocked, she strikes at him. At the same moment the music starts in the salon next door. We hear the opening of the Serenade for Thirteen Wind Instruments, K. MOZART My music! They've started! They've started without me! He leaps up, disheveled and rumpled and runs out of the room. Salieri watches in amazement and disgust. CUT TO: INT. PALACE CORRIDOR - DAY - 1780'S The music is louder. Mozart hastens towards the Grand Salon away from the buffet room, adjusting his dress as he goes. INT. GRAND SALON - DAY - 1780'S The opening of the Serenade is being tentatively conducted by the leader of the wind-musicians. Guests turn around as Mozart appears - bowing to the Archbishop - and walks with an attempt at dignity to the dais where the wind band is playing. The leader yields his place to the composer and Mozart smoothly takes over conducting. Constanze, deeply embarrassed, sneaks into the room and seats herself at the back. INT. PALACE BUFFET ROOM - DAY - 1780'S The music fades down. Salieri stands shocked from his inadvertent eavesdropping. After a second he moves almost in a trance toward the door; the music dissolves. INT. GRAND SALON - DAY - 1780'S Mozart is conducting the Adagio from his Serenade (K. 361), guiding the thirteen wind instrumentalists. The squeezebox opening of the movement begins. Salieri appears at the door at the back of the salon. He stares in disbelief at Mozart. OLD SALIERI (V.O.) So that was he! That giggling, dirty- minded creature I'd just seen crawling on the floor. Mozart. The phenomenon whose legend had haunted my youth. Impossible. The music swells up and Salieri listens to it with eyes closed - amazed, transported - suddenly engulfed by the sound. Finally it fades down and away and changes into applause. Salieri opens his eyes. The audience is clearly delighted. Mozart bows to them, also delighted. Colloredo rises abruptly, and without looking at Mozart or applauding and leaves the Salon. Count Arco approaches the composer. Mozart turns to him, radiant. ARCO Follow me, please. The Archbishop would like a word. MOZART Certainly! He follows Arco out of the room, through a throng of admirers. INT. ANOTHER PALACE CORRIDOR - DAY - 1780'S Mozart and Arco walk side by side. They pass Salieri who is staring at Mozart in fascination. As they disappear, he steals toward the music stands, unable to help himself. MOZART Well, I think that went off remarkably well, don't you? ARCO Indeed. MOZART These Viennese certainly know good music when they hear it. ARCO His Grace is very angry with you. MOZART What do you mean? They arrive at the door of Colloredo's private apartment. ARCO You are to come in here and ask his pardon. Arco opens the door. INT. ARCHBISHOP'S PRIVATE ROOM - DAY - 1780'S The Archbishop is sitting, chatting to quests. Among them are several ladies. Arco approaches him obsequiously. ARCO Your Grace. COLLOREDO Ah, Mozart. Why? MOZART Why what, sir? COLLOREDO Why do I have to be humiliated in front of my guests by one of my own servants? MOZART Humiliated? COLLOREDO How much provocation am I to endure from you? The more license I allow you, the more you take. The company watches this scene, deeply interested. MOZART If His Grace is not satisfied with me, he can dismiss me. COLLOREDO I wish you to return immediately to Salzburg. Your father is waiting for you there patiently. I will speak to you further when I come. MOZART No, Your Grace! I mean with all humility, no. I would rather you dismissed me. It's obvious I don't satisfy. COLLOREDO Then try harder, Mozart. I have no intention of dismissing you. You will remain in my service and learn your place. Go now. He extends his hand to be kissed. Mozart does it with a furious grace, then leaves the room. As he opens the door we see: INT. PALACE CORRIDOR - DAY - 1780'S A group of people who have attended the concert, among them Constanze, are standing outside the private apartment. At sight of the composer they break into sustained applause. Mozart is suddenly delighted. He throws the door wide open so that the guests can see into the private apartment where the Archbishop sits

mercy

How many times the word 'mercy' appears in the text?

Amadeus Script at IMSDb. var _gaq = _gaq || []; _gaq.push(['_setAccount', 'UA-3785444-3']); _gaq.push(['_trackPageview']); (function() { var ga = document.createElement('script'); ga.type = 'text/javascript'; ga.async = true; ga.src = ('https:' == document.location.protocol ? 'https://ssl' : 'http://www') + '.google-analytics.com/ga.js'; var s = document.getElementsByTagName('script')[0]; s.parentNode.insertBefore(ga, s); })(); The Internet Movie Script Database (IMSDb) The web's largest movie script resource! Search IMSDb Alphabetical # A B C D E F G H I J K L M N O P Q R S T U V W X Y Z Genre Action Adventure Animation Comedy Crime Drama Family Fantasy Film-Noir Horror Musical Mystery Romance Sci-Fi Short Thriller War Western Sponsor TV Transcripts Futurama Seinfeld South Park Stargate SG-1 Lost The 4400 International French scripts Movie Software Rip from DVD Rip Blu-Ray Latest Comments Star Wars: Revenge of the Sith10/10 Star Wars: The Force Awakens10/10 Batman Begins9/10 Collateral10/10 Jackie Brown8/10 Movie Chat Message Yell ! ALL SCRIPTS if (window!= top) top.location.href=location.href // --> AMADEUS "AMADEUS" by Peter Shaffer Final Draft INT. STAIRCASE OUTSIDE OLD SALIERI'S SALON - NIGHT - 1823 Total darkness. We hear an old man's voice, distinct and in distress. It is OLD SALIERI. He uses a mixture of English and occasionally Italian. OLD SALIERI Mozart! Mozart! Mozart. Forgive me! Forgive your assassin! Mozart! A faint light illuminates the screen. Flickeringly, we see an eighteenth century balustrade and a flight of stone stairs. We are looking down into the wall of the staircase from the point of view of the landing. Up the stair is coming a branched candlestick held by Salieri's VALET. By his side is Salieri's COOK, bearing a large dish of sugared cakes and biscuits. Both men are desperately worried: the Valet is thin and middle-aged; the Cook, plump and Italian. It is very cold. They wear shawls over their night-dresses and clogs on their feet. They wheeze as they climb. The candles throw their shadows up onto the peeling walls of the house, which is evidently an old one and in bad decay. A cat scuttles swiftly between their bare legs, as they reach the salon door. The Valet tries the handle. It is locked. Behind it the voice goes on, rising in volume. OLD SALIERI Show some mercy! I beg you. I beg you! Show mercy to a guilty man! The Valet knocks gently on the door. The voice stops. VALET Open the door, Signore! Please! Be good now! We've brought you something special. Something you're going to love. Silence. VALET Signore Salieri! Open the door. Come now. Be good! The voice of Old Salieri continues again, further off now, and louder. We hear a noise as if a window is being opened. OLD SALIERI Mozart! Mozart! I confess it! Listen! I confess! The two servants look at each other in alarm. Then the Valet hands the candlestick to the Cook and takes a sugared cake from the dish, scrambling as quickly as he can back down the stairs. EXT. THE STREET OUTSIDE SALIERI'S HOUSE - VIENNA - NIGHT The street is filled with people: ten cabs with drivers, five children, fifteen adults, two doormen, fifteen dancing couples and a sled and three dogs. It is a windy night. Snow is falling and whirling about. People are passing on foot, holding their cloaks tightly around them. Some of them are revelers in fancy dress: they wear masks on their faces or hanging around their necks, as if returning from parties. Now they are glancing up at the facade of the old house. The window above the street is open and Old Salieri stands there calling to the sky: a sharp-featured, white-haired Italian over seventy years old, wearing a stained dressing gown. OLD SALIERI Mozart! Mozart! I cannot bear it any longer! I confess! I confess what I did! I'm guilty! I killed you! Sir I confess! I killed you! The door of the house bursts open. The Valet hobbles out, holding the sugared cake. The wind catches at his shawl. OLD SALIERI Mozart, perdonami! Forgive your assassin! Piet ! Piet ! Forgive your assassin! Forgive me! Forgive! Forgive! VALET (looking up to the window) That's all right, Signore! He heard you! He forgave you! He wants you to go inside now and shut the window! Old Salieri stares down at him. Some of the passersby have now stopped and are watching this spectacle. VALET Come on, Signore! Look what I have for you! I can't give it to you from down here, can I? Old Salieri looks at him in contempt. Then he turns away back into the room, shutting the window with a bang. Through the glass, the old man stares down at the group of onlookers in the street. They stare back at him in confusion. BYSTANDER Who is that? VALET No one, sir. He'll be all right. Poor man. He's a little unhappy, you know. He makes a sign indicating 'crazy,' and goes back inside the house. The onlookers keep staring. CUT TO: INT. LANDING OUTSIDE OLD SALIERI'S SALON - NIGHT The Cook is standing holding the candlestick in one hand, the dish of cakes in the other. The Valet arrives, panting. VALET Did he open? The Cook, scared, shakes his head: no. The Valet again knocks on the door. VALET Here I am, Signore. Now open the door. He eats the sugared cake in his hand, elaborately and noisily. VALET Mmmm - this is good! This is the most delicious thing I ever ate, believe me! Signore, you don't know what you're missing! Mmmm! We hear a thump from inside the bedroom. VALET Now that's enough, Signore! Open! We hear a terrible, throaty groaning. VALET If you don't open this door, we're going to eat everything. There'll be nothing left for you. And I'm not going to bring you anything more. He looks down. From under the door we see a trickle of blood flowing. In horror, the two men stare at it. The dish of cakes falls from the Cook's hand and shatters. He sets the candlestick down on the floor. Both servants run at the door frantically - once, twice, three times - and the frail lock gives. The door flies open. Immediately, the stormy, frenzied opening of Mozart's Symphony No. 25 (the Little G Minor) begins. We see what the servants see. INT. OLD SALIERI'S SALON - NIGHT Old Salieri lies on the floor in a pool of blood, an open razor in his hand. He has cut his throat but is still alive. He gestures at them. They run to him. Barely, we glimpse the room - an old chair, old tables piled with books, a forte- piano, a chamber-pot on the floor - as the Valet and the Cook struggle to lift their old Master, and bind his bleeding throat with a napkin. INT. BALLROOM - NIGHT Twenty-five dancing couples, fifty guests, ten servants, full orchestra. As the music slows a little, we see a Masquerade Ball in progress. A crowded room of dancers is executing the slow portion of a dance fashionable in the early 1820's. EXT. STREET OUTSIDE SALIERI'S HOUSE - NIGHT As the fast music returns, we see Old Salieri being carried out of his house on a stretcher by two attendants, and placed in a horse-drawn wagon under the supervision of a middle- aged doctor in a tall hat. This is DOCTOR GULDEN. He gets in beside his patient. The driver whips up the horse, and the wagon dashes off through the still-falling snow. MONTAGE: EXT. FOUR STREETS OF VIENNA AND INT. THE WAGON - NIGHT The wagon is galloping through the snowy streets of the city. Inside the conveyance we see Old Salieri wrapped in blankets, half-conscious, being held by the hospital attendants. Doctor Gulden stares at him grimly. The wagon arrives outside the General Hospital of Vienna. CUT TO: INT. A HOSPITAL CORRIDOR - LATE AFTERNOON A wide, white-washed corridor. Doctor Gulden is walking down it with a priest, a man of about forty, concerned, but somewhat self-important. This is Father VOGLER, Chaplain at the hospital. In the corridor as they walk, we note several patients -- some of them visibly disturbed mentally. All patients wear white linen smocks. Doctor Gulden wears a dark frock-coat; Vogler, a cassock. DOCTOR GULDEN He's going to live. It's much harder to cut your throat than most people imagine. They stop outside a door. DOCTOR GULDEN Here we are. Do you wish me to come in with you? VOGLER No, Doctor. Thank you. Vogler nods and opens the door. INT. OLD SALIERI'S HOSPITAL ROOM - LATE AFTERNOON A bare room - one of the best available in the General Hospital. It contains a bed, a table with candles, chairs, a small forte-piano of the early nineteenth century. As Vogler enters, Old Salieri is sitting in a wheel-chair, looking out the window. His back is to us. The priest closes the door quietly behind him. VOGLER Herr Salieri? Old Salieri turns around to look at him. We see that his throat is bandaged expertly. He wears hospital garb, and over it the Civilian Medal and Chain with which we will later see the EMPEROR invest him. OLD SALIERI What do you want? VOGLER I am Father Vogler. I am a Chaplain here. I thought you might like to talk to someone. OLD SALIERI About what? VOGLER You tried to take your life. You do remember that, don't you? OLD SALIERI So? VOGLER In the sight of God that is a sin. OLD SALIERI What do you want? VOGLER Do you understand that you have sinned? Gravely. OLD SALIERI Leave me alone. VOGLER I cannot leave alone a soul in pain. OLD SALIERI Do you know who I am? You never heard of me, did you? VOGLER That makes no difference. All men are equal in God's eyes. OLD SALIERI Are they? VOGLER Offer me your confession. I can offer you God's forgiveness. OLD SALIERI I do not seek forgiveness. VOGLER My son, there is something dreadful on your soul. Unburden it to me. I'm here only for you. Please talk to me. OLD SALIERI How well are you trained in music? VOGLER I know a little. I studied it in my youth. OLD SALIERI Where? VOGLER Here in Vienna. OLD SALIERI Then you must know this. He propels his wheelchair to the forte-piano, and plays an unrecognizable melody. VOGLER I can't say I do. What is it? OLD SALIERI I'm surprised you don't know. It was a very popular tune in its day. I wrote it. How about this? He plays another tune. OLD SALIERI This one brought down the house when we played it first. He plays it with growing enthusiasm. CUT TO: INT. THE STAGE OF AN OPERA HOUSE - NIGHT - 1780'S We see the pretty soprano KATHERINA CAVALIERI, now about twenty-four, dressed in an elaborate mythological Persian costume, singing on stage. She's near the end of a very florid aria by Salieri. The audience applauds wildly. INT. OLD SALIERI'S HOSPITAL ROOM - LATE AFTERNOON - 1823 OLD SALIERI (taking his hands off the keys) Well? VOGLER I regret it is not too familiar. OLD SALIERI Can you recall no melody of mine? I was the most famous composer in Europe when you were still a boy. I wrote forty operas alone. What about this little thing? Slyly he plays the opening measure of Mozart's Eine Kleine Nachtmusik. The priest nods, smiling suddenly, and hums a little with the music. VOGLER Oh, I know that! That's charming! I didn't know you wrote that. OLD SALIERI I didn't. That was Mozart. Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart. You know who that is? VOGLER Of course. The man you accuse yourself of killing. OLD SALIERI Ah - you've heard that? VOGLER All Vienna has heard that. OLD SALIERI ( eagerly) And do they believe it? VOGLER Is it true? OLD SALIERI Do you believe it? VOGLER Should I? A very long pause. Salieri stares above the priest, seemingly lost in his own private world. VOGLER For God's sake, my son, if you have anything to confess, do it now! Give yourself some peace! A further pause. VOGLER Do you hear me? OLD SALIERI He was murdered, Father! Mozart! Cruelly murdered. Pause. VOGLER (almost whispering) Yes? Did you do it? Suddenly Old Salieri turns to him, a look of extreme innocence. OLD SALIERI He was my idol! I can't remember a time when I didn't know his name! When I was only fourteen he was already famous. Even in Legnago - the tiniest town in Italy - I knew of him. CUT TO: EXT. A SMALL TOWN SQUARE IN LOMBARDY, ITALY - DAY - 1780'S There are twelve children and twenty adults in the square. We see the fourteen-year-old Salieri blindfolded, playing a game of Blindman's Bluff with other Italian children, running about in the bright sunshine and laughing. OLD SALIERI (V.O.) I was still playing childish games when he was playing music for kings and emperors. Even the Pope in Rome! CUT TO: INT. A SALON IN THE VATICAN - DAY - 1780'S We see the six-year-old MOZART, also blindfolded, seated in a gilded chair on a pile of books, playing the harpsichord for the POPE and a suite of CARDINALS and other churchmen. Beside the little boy stands LEOPOLD, his father, smirking with pride. OLD SALIERI (V.O.) I admit I was jealous when I heard the tales they told about him. Not of the brilliant little prodigy himself, but of his father, who had taught him everything. The piece finishes. Leopold lowers the lid of the harpsichord and lifts up his little son to stand on it. Mozart removes the blindfold to show a pale little face with staring eyes. Both father and son bow. A Papal Chamberlain presents Leopold with a gold snuff box whilst the cardinals decorously applaud. Over this scene Old Salieri speaks. OLD SALIERI (V.O.) My father did not care for music. He wanted me only to be a merchant, like himself. As anonymous as he was. When I told how I wished I could be like Mozart, he would say, Why? Do you want to be a trained monkey? Would you like me to drag you around Europe doing tricks like a circus freak? How could I tell him what music meant to me? CUT TO: EXT. A COUNTRY CHURCH IN NORTH ITALY - DAY - 1780'S Serene music of the Italian Baroque - Pergolesi's Stabat Mater - sung by a choir of boys with organ accompaniment. We see the outside of the 17th-century church sitting in the wide landscape of Lombardy: sunlit fields, a dusty, white road, poplar trees. INT. THE CHURCH AT LEGNAGO - DAY - 1780'S The music continues and swells. We see the twelve-year-old Salieri seated between his plump and placid parents in the congregation, listening in rapture. His father is a heavy- looking, self-approving man, obviously indifferent to the music. A large and austere Christ on the cross hangs over the altar. Candles burn below his image. OLD SALIERI (V.O.) Even then a spray of sounded notes could make me dizzy, almost to falling. The boy falls forward on his knees. So do his parents and the other members of the congregation. He stares up at Christ who stares back at him. OLD SALIERI (V.O.) Whilst my father prayed earnestly to God to protect commerce, I would offer up secretly the proudest prayer a boy could think of. Lord, make me a great composer! Let me celebrate your glory through music - and be celebrated myself! Make me famous through the world, dear God! Make me immortal! After I die let people speak my name forever with love for what I wrote! In return I vow I will give you my chastity - my industry, my deepest humility, every hour of my life. And I will help my fellow man all I can. Amen and amen! The music swells to a crescendo. The candles flare. We see the Christ through the flames looking at the boy benignly. OLD SALIERI (V.O.) And do you know what happened? A miracle! INT. DINING ROOM IN THE SALIERI HOUSE - DAY - 1780'S CU, a large cooked fish on a thick china plate. Camera pulls back to show the Salieri family at dinner. Father Salieri sits at the head of the table, a napkin tucked into his chin. Mother Salieri is serving the fish into portions and handing them round. Two maiden aunts are in attendance, wearing black, and of course the young boy. Father Salieri receives his plate of fish and starts to eat greedily. Suddenly there is a gasp - he starts to choke violently on a fish bone. All the women get up and crowd around him, thumping and pummeling him, but it is in vain. Father Salieri collapses. INT. OLD SALIERI'S HOSPITAL ROOM - LATE AFTERNOON - 1823 OLD SALIERI Suddenly he was dead. Just like that! And my life changed forever. My mother said, Go. Study music if you really want to. Off with you! And off I went as quick as I could and never saw Italy again. Of course, I knew God had arranged it all; that was obvious. One moment I was a frustrated boy in an obscure little town. The next I was here, in Vienna, city of musicians, sixteen years old and studying under Gluck! Gluck, Father. Do you know who he was? The greatest composer of his time. And he loved me! That was the wonder. He taught me everything he knew. And when I was ready, introduced me personally to the Emperor! Emperor Joseph - the musical king! Within a few years I was his court composer. Wasn't that incredible? Imperial Composer to His Majesty! Actually the man had no ear at all, but what did it matter? He adored my music, that was enough. Night after night I sat right next to the Emperor of Austria, playing duets with him, correcting the royal sight-reading. Tell me, if you had been me, wouldn't you have thought God had accepted your vow? And believe me, I honoured it. I was a model of virtue. I kept my hands off women, worked hours every day teaching students, many of them for free, sitting on endless committees to help poor musicians - work and work and work, that was all my life. And it was wonderful! Everybody liked me. I liked myself. I was the most successful musician in Vienna. And the happiest. Till he came. Mozart. CUT TO: INT. THE ARCHBISHOP OF SALZBURG'S RESIDENCE - VIENNA - DAY - 1780'S A grand room crowded with guests. A small group of Gypsy musicians is playing in the background. Thirteen members of the Archbishop's orchestra - all wind players, complete with 18th-century wind instruments: elaborate-looking bassoons, basset horns, etc. and wearing their employer's livery - are laying out music on stands at one end of the room. At the other end is a large gilded chair, bearing the arms of the ARCHBISHOP OF SALZBURG. A throng of people is standing, talking, and preparing to sit upon the rows of waiting chairs to hear a concert. OLD SALIERI (V.O.) One day he came to Vienna to play some of his music at the residence of his employer, the Prince-Archbishop of Salzburg. Eagerly I went there to seek him out. That night changed my life. We see Salieri, age thirty-one, a neat, carefully turned-cut man in decent black clothes and clean white linen, walking through the crowd of guests. We follow him. OLD SALIERI (V.O.) As I went through the salon, I played a game with myself. This man had written his first concerto at the age of four; his first symphony at seven; a full-scale opera at twelve. Did it show? Is talent like that written on the face? We see shots of assorted young men staring back at Salieri as he moves through the crowd. OLD SALIERI (V.O.) Which one of them could he be? Some of the men recognize Salieri and bow respectfully. Then suddenly a servant bearing a large tray of cakes and pastries stalks past. Instantly riveted by the sight of such delights, Salieri follows him out of the Grand Salon. INT. A PALACE CORRIDOR - DAY - 1780'S The servant marches along bearing his tray of pastries aloft. Salieri follows him. The servant turns into: INT. BUFFET ROOM IN THE PALACE - DAY - 1780'S Salieri's POV: several tables, dressed to the floor with cloths are loaded with many plates of confectionery. It is, in fact, Salieri's idea of paradise! The servant puts his tray down on one of the tables and withdraws from the room. INT. A PALACE CORRIDOR - DAY - 1780'S Salieri turns away so as not to be noticed by the servant. As soon as the man disappears, Salieri sneaks into the buffet room. INT. BUFFET ROOM IN THE PALACE - DAY - 1780'S Salieri enters the room and looks about him cautiously. He is salivating with anticipation as he stares at the feast of sweet things. His attention is attracted in particular by a huge pile of dark chocolate balls arranged in the shape of a pineapple. He reaches out a hand to steal one of the balls, but at the same moment he hears giggling coming toward him. He ducks down behind the pastry table. A girl - CONSTANZE - rushes into the room. She runs straight across it and hides herself behind one of the tables. After a beat of total silence, MOZART runs into the room, stops, and looks around. He is age twenty-six, wearing a fine wig and a brilliant coat with the insignia of the Archbishop of Salzburg upon it. He is puzzled; Constanze has disappeared. Baffled, he turns and is about to leave the room, when Constanze suddenly squeaks from under the cloth like a tiny mouse. Instantly Mozart drops to all fours and starts crawling across the floor, meowing and hissing like a naughty cat. Watched by an astonished Salieri, Mozart disappears under the cloth and obviously pounces upon Constanze. We hear a high-pitched giggle, which is going to characterize Mozart throughout the film. CUT TO: INT. PALACE GRAND SALON - DAY - 1780'S The throng is mostly seated. The musicians are in their places, holding their various exotic-looking wind instruments; the candles are all lit. A Majordomo appears and bangs his staff on the floor for attention. Immediately COLLOREDO, Prince-Archbishop of Salzburg enters. He is a small self- important figure of fifty in a wig, surmounted by a scarlet skullcap. He is followed by his Chamberlain, the Count ARCO. Everyone stands. The Archbishop goes to his throne and sits. His guests sit also. Arco gives the signal to start the music. Nothing happens. Instead, a wind musician gets up, approaches the Chamberlain and whispers in his ear. Arco in turn whispers to the Archbishop. ARCO Mozart is not here. COLLOREDO Where is he? ARCO They're looking for him, Your Grace. INT. A PALACE CORRIDOR - DAY - 1780'S Three servants are opening doors and looking into rooms going off the corridor. CUT TO: INT. PALACE GRAND SALON - DAY - 1780'S The guests are turning around and looking at the Archbishop. The musicians are watching. There is puzzlement and a murmur of comment. The Archbishop tightens his lip. COLLOREDO (to Arco) We'll start without him. INT. PALACE BUFFET ROOM - DAY - 1780'S Mozart is on his knees before the tablecloth, which reaches to the floor. Under it is Constanze. We hear her giggling as he talks. MOZART Miaouw! Miaouw! Mouse-wouse? It's Puss-wuss, fangs-wangs. Paws-claws. Pounce-bounce! He grabs her ankle. She screams. He pulls her out by her leg. CONSTANZE Stop it. Stop it! They roll on the floor. He tickles her. CONSTANZE Stop it! MOZART I am! I am! I'm stopping it - slowly. You see! Look, I've stopped. Now we are going back. He tries to drag her back under the table. CONSTANZE No! No! No! MOZART Yes! Back! Back! Listen - don't you know where you are? CONSTANZE Where? MOZART We are in the Residence of the Fartsbishop of Salzburg. CONSTANZE Fartsbishop! She laughs delightedly, then addresses an imaginary Archbishop. CONSTANZE Your Grace, I've got something to tell you. I want to complain about this man. MOZART Go ahead, tell him. Tell them all. They won't understand you anyway. CONSTANZE Why not? MOZART Because here everything goes backwards. People walk backwards, dance backwards, sing backwards, and talk backwards. CONSTANZE That's stupid. MOZART Why? People fart backwards. CONSTANZE Do you think that's funny? MOZART Yes, I think it's brilliant. You've been doing it for years. He gives a high pitched giggle. CONSTANZE Oh, ha, ha, ha. MOZART Sra-I'm-sick! Sra-I'm sick! CONSTANZE Yes, you are. You're very sick. MOZART No, no. Say it backwards, shit-wit. Sra-I'm-sick Say it backwards! CONSTANZE (working it out) Sra-I'm-sick. Sick - kiss I'm - my Kiss my! Sra-I'm-sick - Kiss my arse! MOZART Em iram! Em iram! CONSTANZE No, I'm not playing this game. MOZART No, this is serious. Say it backwards. CONSTANZE No! MOZART Just say it - you'll see. It's very serious. Em iram! Em iram! CONSTANZE Iram - marry Em - marry me! No, no! You're a fiend. I'm not going to marry a fiend. A dirty fiend at that. MOZART Ui-vol-i-tub! CONSTANZE Tub - but i-tub - but I vol - love but I love ui - You. I love you! The mood becomes suddenly softer. She kisses him. They embrace. Then he spoils it. MOZART Tish-I'm tee. What's that? CONSTANZE What? MOZART Tish-I'm-tee. CONSTANZE Eat MOZART Yes. CONSTANZE Eat my - ah! Shocked, she strikes at him. At the same moment the music starts in the salon next door. We hear the opening of the Serenade for Thirteen Wind Instruments, K. MOZART My music! They've started! They've started without me! He leaps up, disheveled and rumpled and runs out of the room. Salieri watches in amazement and disgust. CUT TO: INT. PALACE CORRIDOR - DAY - 1780'S The music is louder. Mozart hastens towards the Grand Salon away from the buffet room, adjusting his dress as he goes. INT. GRAND SALON - DAY - 1780'S The opening of the Serenade is being tentatively conducted by the leader of the wind-musicians. Guests turn around as Mozart appears - bowing to the Archbishop - and walks with an attempt at dignity to the dais where the wind band is playing. The leader yields his place to the composer and Mozart smoothly takes over conducting. Constanze, deeply embarrassed, sneaks into the room and seats herself at the back. INT. PALACE BUFFET ROOM - DAY - 1780'S The music fades down. Salieri stands shocked from his inadvertent eavesdropping. After a second he moves almost in a trance toward the door; the music dissolves. INT. GRAND SALON - DAY - 1780'S Mozart is conducting the Adagio from his Serenade (K. 361), guiding the thirteen wind instrumentalists. The squeezebox opening of the movement begins. Salieri appears at the door at the back of the salon. He stares in disbelief at Mozart. OLD SALIERI (V.O.) So that was he! That giggling, dirty- minded creature I'd just seen crawling on the floor. Mozart. The phenomenon whose legend had haunted my youth. Impossible. The music swells up and Salieri listens to it with eyes closed - amazed, transported - suddenly engulfed by the sound. Finally it fades down and away and changes into applause. Salieri opens his eyes. The audience is clearly delighted. Mozart bows to them, also delighted. Colloredo rises abruptly, and without looking at Mozart or applauding and leaves the Salon. Count Arco approaches the composer. Mozart turns to him, radiant. ARCO Follow me, please. The Archbishop would like a word. MOZART Certainly! He follows Arco out of the room, through a throng of admirers. INT. ANOTHER PALACE CORRIDOR - DAY - 1780'S Mozart and Arco walk side by side. They pass Salieri who is staring at Mozart in fascination. As they disappear, he steals toward the music stands, unable to help himself. MOZART Well, I think that went off remarkably well, don't you? ARCO Indeed. MOZART These Viennese certainly know good music when they hear it. ARCO His Grace is very angry with you. MOZART What do you mean? They arrive at the door of Colloredo's private apartment. ARCO You are to come in here and ask his pardon. Arco opens the door. INT. ARCHBISHOP'S PRIVATE ROOM - DAY - 1780'S The Archbishop is sitting, chatting to quests. Among them are several ladies. Arco approaches him obsequiously. ARCO Your Grace. COLLOREDO Ah, Mozart. Why? MOZART Why what, sir? COLLOREDO Why do I have to be humiliated in front of my guests by one of my own servants? MOZART Humiliated? COLLOREDO How much provocation am I to endure from you? The more license I allow you, the more you take. The company watches this scene, deeply interested. MOZART If His Grace is not satisfied with me, he can dismiss me. COLLOREDO I wish you to return immediately to Salzburg. Your father is waiting for you there patiently. I will speak to you further when I come. MOZART No, Your Grace! I mean with all humility, no. I would rather you dismissed me. It's obvious I don't satisfy. COLLOREDO Then try harder, Mozart. I have no intention of dismissing you. You will remain in my service and learn your place. Go now. He extends his hand to be kissed. Mozart does it with a furious grace, then leaves the room. As he opens the door we see: INT. PALACE CORRIDOR - DAY - 1780'S A group of people who have attended the concert, among them Constanze, are standing outside the private apartment. At sight of the composer they break into sustained applause. Mozart is suddenly delighted. He throws the door wide open so that the guests can see into the private apartment where the Archbishop sits

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Search IMSDb Alphabetical # A B C D E F G H I J K L M N O P Q R S T U V W X Y Z Genre Action Adventure Animation Comedy Crime Drama Family Fantasy Film-Noir Horror Musical Mystery Romance Sci-Fi Short Thriller War Western Sponsor TV Transcripts Futurama Seinfeld South Park Stargate SG-1 Lost The 4400 International French scripts Movie Software Rip from DVD Rip Blu-Ray Latest Comments Star Wars: Revenge of the Sith10/10 Star Wars: The Force Awakens10/10 Batman Begins9/10 Collateral10/10 Jackie Brown8/10 Movie Chat Message Yell ! ALL SCRIPTS if (window!= top) top.location.href=location.href // --> AMADEUS "AMADEUS" by Peter Shaffer Final Draft INT. STAIRCASE OUTSIDE OLD SALIERI'S SALON - NIGHT - 1823 Total darkness. We hear an old man's voice, distinct and in distress. It is OLD SALIERI. He uses a mixture of English and occasionally Italian. OLD SALIERI Mozart! Mozart! Mozart. Forgive me! Forgive your assassin! Mozart! A faint light illuminates the screen. Flickeringly, we see an eighteenth century balustrade and a flight of stone stairs. We are looking down into the wall of the staircase from the point of view of the landing. Up the stair is coming a branched candlestick held by Salieri's VALET. By his side is Salieri's COOK, bearing a large dish of sugared cakes and biscuits. Both men are desperately worried: the Valet is thin and middle-aged; the Cook, plump and Italian. It is very cold. They wear shawls over their night-dresses and clogs on their feet. They wheeze as they climb. The candles throw their shadows up onto the peeling walls of the house, which is evidently an old one and in bad decay. A cat scuttles swiftly between their bare legs, as they reach the salon door. The Valet tries the handle. It is locked. Behind it the voice goes on, rising in volume. OLD SALIERI Show some mercy! I beg you. I beg you! Show mercy to a guilty man! The Valet knocks gently on the door. The voice stops. VALET Open the door, Signore! Please! Be good now! We've brought you something special. Something you're going to love. Silence. VALET Signore Salieri! Open the door. Come now. Be good! The voice of Old Salieri continues again, further off now, and louder. We hear a noise as if a window is being opened. OLD SALIERI Mozart! Mozart! I confess it! Listen! I confess! The two servants look at each other in alarm. Then the Valet hands the candlestick to the Cook and takes a sugared cake from the dish, scrambling as quickly as he can back down the stairs. EXT. THE STREET OUTSIDE SALIERI'S HOUSE - VIENNA - NIGHT The street is filled with people: ten cabs with drivers, five children, fifteen adults, two doormen, fifteen dancing couples and a sled and three dogs. It is a windy night. Snow is falling and whirling about. People are passing on foot, holding their cloaks tightly around them. Some of them are revelers in fancy dress: they wear masks on their faces or hanging around their necks, as if returning from parties. Now they are glancing up at the facade of the old house. The window above the street is open and Old Salieri stands there calling to the sky: a sharp-featured, white-haired Italian over seventy years old, wearing a stained dressing gown. OLD SALIERI Mozart! Mozart! I cannot bear it any longer! I confess! I confess what I did! I'm guilty! I killed you! Sir I confess! I killed you! The door of the house bursts open. The Valet hobbles out, holding the sugared cake. The wind catches at his shawl. OLD SALIERI Mozart, perdonami! Forgive your assassin! Piet ! Piet ! Forgive your assassin! Forgive me! Forgive! Forgive! VALET (looking up to the window) That's all right, Signore! He heard you! He forgave you! He wants you to go inside now and shut the window! Old Salieri stares down at him. Some of the passersby have now stopped and are watching this spectacle. VALET Come on, Signore! Look what I have for you! I can't give it to you from down here, can I? Old Salieri looks at him in contempt. Then he turns away back into the room, shutting the window with a bang. Through the glass, the old man stares down at the group of onlookers in the street. They stare back at him in confusion. BYSTANDER Who is that? VALET No one, sir. He'll be all right. Poor man. He's a little unhappy, you know. He makes a sign indicating 'crazy,' and goes back inside the house. The onlookers keep staring. CUT TO: INT. LANDING OUTSIDE OLD SALIERI'S SALON - NIGHT The Cook is standing holding the candlestick in one hand, the dish of cakes in the other. The Valet arrives, panting. VALET Did he open? The Cook, scared, shakes his head: no. The Valet again knocks on the door. VALET Here I am, Signore. Now open the door. He eats the sugared cake in his hand, elaborately and noisily. VALET Mmmm - this is good! This is the most delicious thing I ever ate, believe me! Signore, you don't know what you're missing! Mmmm! We hear a thump from inside the bedroom. VALET Now that's enough, Signore! Open! We hear a terrible, throaty groaning. VALET If you don't open this door, we're going to eat everything. There'll be nothing left for you. And I'm not going to bring you anything more. He looks down. From under the door we see a trickle of blood flowing. In horror, the two men stare at it. The dish of cakes falls from the Cook's hand and shatters. He sets the candlestick down on the floor. Both servants run at the door frantically - once, twice, three times - and the frail lock gives. The door flies open. Immediately, the stormy, frenzied opening of Mozart's Symphony No. 25 (the Little G Minor) begins. We see what the servants see. INT. OLD SALIERI'S SALON - NIGHT Old Salieri lies on the floor in a pool of blood, an open razor in his hand. He has cut his throat but is still alive. He gestures at them. They run to him. Barely, we glimpse the room - an old chair, old tables piled with books, a forte- piano, a chamber-pot on the floor - as the Valet and the Cook struggle to lift their old Master, and bind his bleeding throat with a napkin. INT. BALLROOM - NIGHT Twenty-five dancing couples, fifty guests, ten servants, full orchestra. As the music slows a little, we see a Masquerade Ball in progress. A crowded room of dancers is executing the slow portion of a dance fashionable in the early 1820's. EXT. STREET OUTSIDE SALIERI'S HOUSE - NIGHT As the fast music returns, we see Old Salieri being carried out of his house on a stretcher by two attendants, and placed in a horse-drawn wagon under the supervision of a middle- aged doctor in a tall hat. This is DOCTOR GULDEN. He gets in beside his patient. The driver whips up the horse, and the wagon dashes off through the still-falling snow. MONTAGE: EXT. FOUR STREETS OF VIENNA AND INT. THE WAGON - NIGHT The wagon is galloping through the snowy streets of the city. Inside the conveyance we see Old Salieri wrapped in blankets, half-conscious, being held by the hospital attendants. Doctor Gulden stares at him grimly. The wagon arrives outside the General Hospital of Vienna. CUT TO: INT. A HOSPITAL CORRIDOR - LATE AFTERNOON A wide, white-washed corridor. Doctor Gulden is walking down it with a priest, a man of about forty, concerned, but somewhat self-important. This is Father VOGLER, Chaplain at the hospital. In the corridor as they walk, we note several patients -- some of them visibly disturbed mentally. All patients wear white linen smocks. Doctor Gulden wears a dark frock-coat; Vogler, a cassock. DOCTOR GULDEN He's going to live. It's much harder to cut your throat than most people imagine. They stop outside a door. DOCTOR GULDEN Here we are. Do you wish me to come in with you? VOGLER No, Doctor. Thank you. Vogler nods and opens the door. INT. OLD SALIERI'S HOSPITAL ROOM - LATE AFTERNOON A bare room - one of the best available in the General Hospital. It contains a bed, a table with candles, chairs, a small forte-piano of the early nineteenth century. As Vogler enters, Old Salieri is sitting in a wheel-chair, looking out the window. His back is to us. The priest closes the door quietly behind him. VOGLER Herr Salieri? Old Salieri turns around to look at him. We see that his throat is bandaged expertly. He wears hospital garb, and over it the Civilian Medal and Chain with which we will later see the EMPEROR invest him. OLD SALIERI What do you want? VOGLER I am Father Vogler. I am a Chaplain here. I thought you might like to talk to someone. OLD SALIERI About what? VOGLER You tried to take your life. You do remember that, don't you? OLD SALIERI So? VOGLER In the sight of God that is a sin. OLD SALIERI What do you want? VOGLER Do you understand that you have sinned? Gravely. OLD SALIERI Leave me alone. VOGLER I cannot leave alone a soul in pain. OLD SALIERI Do you know who I am? You never heard of me, did you? VOGLER That makes no difference. All men are equal in God's eyes. OLD SALIERI Are they? VOGLER Offer me your confession. I can offer you God's forgiveness. OLD SALIERI I do not seek forgiveness. VOGLER My son, there is something dreadful on your soul. Unburden it to me. I'm here only for you. Please talk to me. OLD SALIERI How well are you trained in music? VOGLER I know a little. I studied it in my youth. OLD SALIERI Where? VOGLER Here in Vienna. OLD SALIERI Then you must know this. He propels his wheelchair to the forte-piano, and plays an unrecognizable melody. VOGLER I can't say I do. What is it? OLD SALIERI I'm surprised you don't know. It was a very popular tune in its day. I wrote it. How about this? He plays another tune. OLD SALIERI This one brought down the house when we played it first. He plays it with growing enthusiasm. CUT TO: INT. THE STAGE OF AN OPERA HOUSE - NIGHT - 1780'S We see the pretty soprano KATHERINA CAVALIERI, now about twenty-four, dressed in an elaborate mythological Persian costume, singing on stage. She's near the end of a very florid aria by Salieri. The audience applauds wildly. INT. OLD SALIERI'S HOSPITAL ROOM - LATE AFTERNOON - 1823 OLD SALIERI (taking his hands off the keys) Well? VOGLER I regret it is not too familiar. OLD SALIERI Can you recall no melody of mine? I was the most famous composer in Europe when you were still a boy. I wrote forty operas alone. What about this little thing? Slyly he plays the opening measure of Mozart's Eine Kleine Nachtmusik. The priest nods, smiling suddenly, and hums a little with the music. VOGLER Oh, I know that! That's charming! I didn't know you wrote that. OLD SALIERI I didn't. That was Mozart. Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart. You know who that is? VOGLER Of course. The man you accuse yourself of killing. OLD SALIERI Ah - you've heard that? VOGLER All Vienna has heard that. OLD SALIERI ( eagerly) And do they believe it? VOGLER Is it true? OLD SALIERI Do you believe it? VOGLER Should I? A very long pause. Salieri stares above the priest, seemingly lost in his own private world. VOGLER For God's sake, my son, if you have anything to confess, do it now! Give yourself some peace! A further pause. VOGLER Do you hear me? OLD SALIERI He was murdered, Father! Mozart! Cruelly murdered. Pause. VOGLER (almost whispering) Yes? Did you do it? Suddenly Old Salieri turns to him, a look of extreme innocence. OLD SALIERI He was my idol! I can't remember a time when I didn't know his name! When I was only fourteen he was already famous. Even in Legnago - the tiniest town in Italy - I knew of him. CUT TO: EXT. A SMALL TOWN SQUARE IN LOMBARDY, ITALY - DAY - 1780'S There are twelve children and twenty adults in the square. We see the fourteen-year-old Salieri blindfolded, playing a game of Blindman's Bluff with other Italian children, running about in the bright sunshine and laughing. OLD SALIERI (V.O.) I was still playing childish games when he was playing music for kings and emperors. Even the Pope in Rome! CUT TO: INT. A SALON IN THE VATICAN - DAY - 1780'S We see the six-year-old MOZART, also blindfolded, seated in a gilded chair on a pile of books, playing the harpsichord for the POPE and a suite of CARDINALS and other churchmen. Beside the little boy stands LEOPOLD, his father, smirking with pride. OLD SALIERI (V.O.) I admit I was jealous when I heard the tales they told about him. Not of the brilliant little prodigy himself, but of his father, who had taught him everything. The piece finishes. Leopold lowers the lid of the harpsichord and lifts up his little son to stand on it. Mozart removes the blindfold to show a pale little face with staring eyes. Both father and son bow. A Papal Chamberlain presents Leopold with a gold snuff box whilst the cardinals decorously applaud. Over this scene Old Salieri speaks. OLD SALIERI (V.O.) My father did not care for music. He wanted me only to be a merchant, like himself. As anonymous as he was. When I told how I wished I could be like Mozart, he would say, Why? Do you want to be a trained monkey? Would you like me to drag you around Europe doing tricks like a circus freak? How could I tell him what music meant to me? CUT TO: EXT. A COUNTRY CHURCH IN NORTH ITALY - DAY - 1780'S Serene music of the Italian Baroque - Pergolesi's Stabat Mater - sung by a choir of boys with organ accompaniment. We see the outside of the 17th-century church sitting in the wide landscape of Lombardy: sunlit fields, a dusty, white road, poplar trees. INT. THE CHURCH AT LEGNAGO - DAY - 1780'S The music continues and swells. We see the twelve-year-old Salieri seated between his plump and placid parents in the congregation, listening in rapture. His father is a heavy- looking, self-approving man, obviously indifferent to the music. A large and austere Christ on the cross hangs over the altar. Candles burn below his image. OLD SALIERI (V.O.) Even then a spray of sounded notes could make me dizzy, almost to falling. The boy falls forward on his knees. So do his parents and the other members of the congregation. He stares up at Christ who stares back at him. OLD SALIERI (V.O.) Whilst my father prayed earnestly to God to protect commerce, I would offer up secretly the proudest prayer a boy could think of. Lord, make me a great composer! Let me celebrate your glory through music - and be celebrated myself! Make me famous through the world, dear God! Make me immortal! After I die let people speak my name forever with love for what I wrote! In return I vow I will give you my chastity - my industry, my deepest humility, every hour of my life. And I will help my fellow man all I can. Amen and amen! The music swells to a crescendo. The candles flare. We see the Christ through the flames looking at the boy benignly. OLD SALIERI (V.O.) And do you know what happened? A miracle! INT. DINING ROOM IN THE SALIERI HOUSE - DAY - 1780'S CU, a large cooked fish on a thick china plate. Camera pulls back to show the Salieri family at dinner. Father Salieri sits at the head of the table, a napkin tucked into his chin. Mother Salieri is serving the fish into portions and handing them round. Two maiden aunts are in attendance, wearing black, and of course the young boy. Father Salieri receives his plate of fish and starts to eat greedily. Suddenly there is a gasp - he starts to choke violently on a fish bone. All the women get up and crowd around him, thumping and pummeling him, but it is in vain. Father Salieri collapses. INT. OLD SALIERI'S HOSPITAL ROOM - LATE AFTERNOON - 1823 OLD SALIERI Suddenly he was dead. Just like that! And my life changed forever. My mother said, Go. Study music if you really want to. Off with you! And off I went as quick as I could and never saw Italy again. Of course, I knew God had arranged it all; that was obvious. One moment I was a frustrated boy in an obscure little town. The next I was here, in Vienna, city of musicians, sixteen years old and studying under Gluck! Gluck, Father. Do you know who he was? The greatest composer of his time. And he loved me! That was the wonder. He taught me everything he knew. And when I was ready, introduced me personally to the Emperor! Emperor Joseph - the musical king! Within a few years I was his court composer. Wasn't that incredible? Imperial Composer to His Majesty! Actually the man had no ear at all, but what did it matter? He adored my music, that was enough. Night after night I sat right next to the Emperor of Austria, playing duets with him, correcting the royal sight-reading. Tell me, if you had been me, wouldn't you have thought God had accepted your vow? And believe me, I honoured it. I was a model of virtue. I kept my hands off women, worked hours every day teaching students, many of them for free, sitting on endless committees to help poor musicians - work and work and work, that was all my life. And it was wonderful! Everybody liked me. I liked myself. I was the most successful musician in Vienna. And the happiest. Till he came. Mozart. CUT TO: INT. THE ARCHBISHOP OF SALZBURG'S RESIDENCE - VIENNA - DAY - 1780'S A grand room crowded with guests. A small group of Gypsy musicians is playing in the background. Thirteen members of the Archbishop's orchestra - all wind players, complete with 18th-century wind instruments: elaborate-looking bassoons, basset horns, etc. and wearing their employer's livery - are laying out music on stands at one end of the room. At the other end is a large gilded chair, bearing the arms of the ARCHBISHOP OF SALZBURG. A throng of people is standing, talking, and preparing to sit upon the rows of waiting chairs to hear a concert. OLD SALIERI (V.O.) One day he came to Vienna to play some of his music at the residence of his employer, the Prince-Archbishop of Salzburg. Eagerly I went there to seek him out. That night changed my life. We see Salieri, age thirty-one, a neat, carefully turned-cut man in decent black clothes and clean white linen, walking through the crowd of guests. We follow him. OLD SALIERI (V.O.) As I went through the salon, I played a game with myself. This man had written his first concerto at the age of four; his first symphony at seven; a full-scale opera at twelve. Did it show? Is talent like that written on the face? We see shots of assorted young men staring back at Salieri as he moves through the crowd. OLD SALIERI (V.O.) Which one of them could he be? Some of the men recognize Salieri and bow respectfully. Then suddenly a servant bearing a large tray of cakes and pastries stalks past. Instantly riveted by the sight of such delights, Salieri follows him out of the Grand Salon. INT. A PALACE CORRIDOR - DAY - 1780'S The servant marches along bearing his tray of pastries aloft. Salieri follows him. The servant turns into: INT. BUFFET ROOM IN THE PALACE - DAY - 1780'S Salieri's POV: several tables, dressed to the floor with cloths are loaded with many plates of confectionery. It is, in fact, Salieri's idea of paradise! The servant puts his tray down on one of the tables and withdraws from the room. INT. A PALACE CORRIDOR - DAY - 1780'S Salieri turns away so as not to be noticed by the servant. As soon as the man disappears, Salieri sneaks into the buffet room. INT. BUFFET ROOM IN THE PALACE - DAY - 1780'S Salieri enters the room and looks about him cautiously. He is salivating with anticipation as he stares at the feast of sweet things. His attention is attracted in particular by a huge pile of dark chocolate balls arranged in the shape of a pineapple. He reaches out a hand to steal one of the balls, but at the same moment he hears giggling coming toward him. He ducks down behind the pastry table. A girl - CONSTANZE - rushes into the room. She runs straight across it and hides herself behind one of the tables. After a beat of total silence, MOZART runs into the room, stops, and looks around. He is age twenty-six, wearing a fine wig and a brilliant coat with the insignia of the Archbishop of Salzburg upon it. He is puzzled; Constanze has disappeared. Baffled, he turns and is about to leave the room, when Constanze suddenly squeaks from under the cloth like a tiny mouse. Instantly Mozart drops to all fours and starts crawling across the floor, meowing and hissing like a naughty cat. Watched by an astonished Salieri, Mozart disappears under the cloth and obviously pounces upon Constanze. We hear a high-pitched giggle, which is going to characterize Mozart throughout the film. CUT TO: INT. PALACE GRAND SALON - DAY - 1780'S The throng is mostly seated. The musicians are in their places, holding their various exotic-looking wind instruments; the candles are all lit. A Majordomo appears and bangs his staff on the floor for attention. Immediately COLLOREDO, Prince-Archbishop of Salzburg enters. He is a small self- important figure of fifty in a wig, surmounted by a scarlet skullcap. He is followed by his Chamberlain, the Count ARCO. Everyone stands. The Archbishop goes to his throne and sits. His guests sit also. Arco gives the signal to start the music. Nothing happens. Instead, a wind musician gets up, approaches the Chamberlain and whispers in his ear. Arco in turn whispers to the Archbishop. ARCO Mozart is not here. COLLOREDO Where is he? ARCO They're looking for him, Your Grace. INT. A PALACE CORRIDOR - DAY - 1780'S Three servants are opening doors and looking into rooms going off the corridor. CUT TO: INT. PALACE GRAND SALON - DAY - 1780'S The guests are turning around and looking at the Archbishop. The musicians are watching. There is puzzlement and a murmur of comment. The Archbishop tightens his lip. COLLOREDO (to Arco) We'll start without him. INT. PALACE BUFFET ROOM - DAY - 1780'S Mozart is on his knees before the tablecloth, which reaches to the floor. Under it is Constanze. We hear her giggling as he talks. MOZART Miaouw! Miaouw! Mouse-wouse? It's Puss-wuss, fangs-wangs. Paws-claws. Pounce-bounce! He grabs her ankle. She screams. He pulls her out by her leg. CONSTANZE Stop it. Stop it! They roll on the floor. He tickles her. CONSTANZE Stop it! MOZART I am! I am! I'm stopping it - slowly. You see! Look, I've stopped. Now we are going back. He tries to drag her back under the table. CONSTANZE No! No! No! MOZART Yes! Back! Back! Listen - don't you know where you are? CONSTANZE Where? MOZART We are in the Residence of the Fartsbishop of Salzburg. CONSTANZE Fartsbishop! She laughs delightedly, then addresses an imaginary Archbishop. CONSTANZE Your Grace, I've got something to tell you. I want to complain about this man. MOZART Go ahead, tell him. Tell them all. They won't understand you anyway. CONSTANZE Why not? MOZART Because here everything goes backwards. People walk backwards, dance backwards, sing backwards, and talk backwards. CONSTANZE That's stupid. MOZART Why? People fart backwards. CONSTANZE Do you think that's funny? MOZART Yes, I think it's brilliant. You've been doing it for years. He gives a high pitched giggle. CONSTANZE Oh, ha, ha, ha. MOZART Sra-I'm-sick! Sra-I'm sick! CONSTANZE Yes, you are. You're very sick. MOZART No, no. Say it backwards, shit-wit. Sra-I'm-sick Say it backwards! CONSTANZE (working it out) Sra-I'm-sick. Sick - kiss I'm - my Kiss my! Sra-I'm-sick - Kiss my arse! MOZART Em iram! Em iram! CONSTANZE No, I'm not playing this game. MOZART No, this is serious. Say it backwards. CONSTANZE No! MOZART Just say it - you'll see. It's very serious. Em iram! Em iram! CONSTANZE Iram - marry Em - marry me! No, no! You're a fiend. I'm not going to marry a fiend. A dirty fiend at that. MOZART Ui-vol-i-tub! CONSTANZE Tub - but i-tub - but I vol - love but I love ui - You. I love you! The mood becomes suddenly softer. She kisses him. They embrace. Then he spoils it. MOZART Tish-I'm tee. What's that? CONSTANZE What? MOZART Tish-I'm-tee. CONSTANZE Eat MOZART Yes. CONSTANZE Eat my - ah! Shocked, she strikes at him. At the same moment the music starts in the salon next door. We hear the opening of the Serenade for Thirteen Wind Instruments, K. MOZART My music! They've started! They've started without me! He leaps up, disheveled and rumpled and runs out of the room. Salieri watches in amazement and disgust. CUT TO: INT. PALACE CORRIDOR - DAY - 1780'S The music is louder. Mozart hastens towards the Grand Salon away from the buffet room, adjusting his dress as he goes. INT. GRAND SALON - DAY - 1780'S The opening of the Serenade is being tentatively conducted by the leader of the wind-musicians. Guests turn around as Mozart appears - bowing to the Archbishop - and walks with an attempt at dignity to the dais where the wind band is playing. The leader yields his place to the composer and Mozart smoothly takes over conducting. Constanze, deeply embarrassed, sneaks into the room and seats herself at the back. INT. PALACE BUFFET ROOM - DAY - 1780'S The music fades down. Salieri stands shocked from his inadvertent eavesdropping. After a second he moves almost in a trance toward the door; the music dissolves. INT. GRAND SALON - DAY - 1780'S Mozart is conducting the Adagio from his Serenade (K. 361), guiding the thirteen wind instrumentalists. The squeezebox opening of the movement begins. Salieri appears at the door at the back of the salon. He stares in disbelief at Mozart. OLD SALIERI (V.O.) So that was he! That giggling, dirty- minded creature I'd just seen crawling on the floor. Mozart. The phenomenon whose legend had haunted my youth. Impossible. The music swells up and Salieri listens to it with eyes closed - amazed, transported - suddenly engulfed by the sound. Finally it fades down and away and changes into applause. Salieri opens his eyes. The audience is clearly delighted. Mozart bows to them, also delighted. Colloredo rises abruptly, and without looking at Mozart or applauding and leaves the Salon. Count Arco approaches the composer. Mozart turns to him, radiant. ARCO Follow me, please. The Archbishop would like a word. MOZART Certainly! He follows Arco out of the room, through a throng of admirers. INT. ANOTHER PALACE CORRIDOR - DAY - 1780'S Mozart and Arco walk side by side. They pass Salieri who is staring at Mozart in fascination. As they disappear, he steals toward the music stands, unable to help himself. MOZART Well, I think that went off remarkably well, don't you? ARCO Indeed. MOZART These Viennese certainly know good music when they hear it. ARCO His Grace is very angry with you. MOZART What do you mean? They arrive at the door of Colloredo's private apartment. ARCO You are to come in here and ask his pardon. Arco opens the door. INT. ARCHBISHOP'S PRIVATE ROOM - DAY - 1780'S The Archbishop is sitting, chatting to quests. Among them are several ladies. Arco approaches him obsequiously. ARCO Your Grace. COLLOREDO Ah, Mozart. Why? MOZART Why what, sir? COLLOREDO Why do I have to be humiliated in front of my guests by one of my own servants? MOZART Humiliated? COLLOREDO How much provocation am I to endure from you? The more license I allow you, the more you take. The company watches this scene, deeply interested. MOZART If His Grace is not satisfied with me, he can dismiss me. COLLOREDO I wish you to return immediately to Salzburg. Your father is waiting for you there patiently. I will speak to you further when I come. MOZART No, Your Grace! I mean with all humility, no. I would rather you dismissed me. It's obvious I don't satisfy. COLLOREDO Then try harder, Mozart. I have no intention of dismissing you. You will remain in my service and learn your place. Go now. He extends his hand to be kissed. Mozart does it with a furious grace, then leaves the room. As he opens the door we see: INT. PALACE CORRIDOR - DAY - 1780'S A group of people who have attended the concert, among them Constanze, are standing outside the private apartment. At sight of the composer they break into sustained applause. Mozart is suddenly delighted. He throws the door wide open so that the guests can see into the private apartment where the Archbishop sits

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Amadeus Script at IMSDb. var _gaq = _gaq || []; _gaq.push(['_setAccount', 'UA-3785444-3']); _gaq.push(['_trackPageview']); (function() { var ga = document.createElement('script'); ga.type = 'text/javascript'; ga.async = true; ga.src = ('https:' == document.location.protocol ? 'https://ssl' : 'http://www') + '.google-analytics.com/ga.js'; var s = document.getElementsByTagName('script')[0]; s.parentNode.insertBefore(ga, s); })(); The Internet Movie Script Database (IMSDb) The web's largest movie script resource! Search IMSDb Alphabetical # A B C D E F G H I J K L M N O P Q R S T U V W X Y Z Genre Action Adventure Animation Comedy Crime Drama Family Fantasy Film-Noir Horror Musical Mystery Romance Sci-Fi Short Thriller War Western Sponsor TV Transcripts Futurama Seinfeld South Park Stargate SG-1 Lost The 4400 International French scripts Movie Software Rip from DVD Rip Blu-Ray Latest Comments Star Wars: Revenge of the Sith10/10 Star Wars: The Force Awakens10/10 Batman Begins9/10 Collateral10/10 Jackie Brown8/10 Movie Chat Message Yell ! ALL SCRIPTS if (window!= top) top.location.href=location.href // --> AMADEUS "AMADEUS" by Peter Shaffer Final Draft INT. STAIRCASE OUTSIDE OLD SALIERI'S SALON - NIGHT - 1823 Total darkness. We hear an old man's voice, distinct and in distress. It is OLD SALIERI. He uses a mixture of English and occasionally Italian. OLD SALIERI Mozart! Mozart! Mozart. Forgive me! Forgive your assassin! Mozart! A faint light illuminates the screen. Flickeringly, we see an eighteenth century balustrade and a flight of stone stairs. We are looking down into the wall of the staircase from the point of view of the landing. Up the stair is coming a branched candlestick held by Salieri's VALET. By his side is Salieri's COOK, bearing a large dish of sugared cakes and biscuits. Both men are desperately worried: the Valet is thin and middle-aged; the Cook, plump and Italian. It is very cold. They wear shawls over their night-dresses and clogs on their feet. They wheeze as they climb. The candles throw their shadows up onto the peeling walls of the house, which is evidently an old one and in bad decay. A cat scuttles swiftly between their bare legs, as they reach the salon door. The Valet tries the handle. It is locked. Behind it the voice goes on, rising in volume. OLD SALIERI Show some mercy! I beg you. I beg you! Show mercy to a guilty man! The Valet knocks gently on the door. The voice stops. VALET Open the door, Signore! Please! Be good now! We've brought you something special. Something you're going to love. Silence. VALET Signore Salieri! Open the door. Come now. Be good! The voice of Old Salieri continues again, further off now, and louder. We hear a noise as if a window is being opened. OLD SALIERI Mozart! Mozart! I confess it! Listen! I confess! The two servants look at each other in alarm. Then the Valet hands the candlestick to the Cook and takes a sugared cake from the dish, scrambling as quickly as he can back down the stairs. EXT. THE STREET OUTSIDE SALIERI'S HOUSE - VIENNA - NIGHT The street is filled with people: ten cabs with drivers, five children, fifteen adults, two doormen, fifteen dancing couples and a sled and three dogs. It is a windy night. Snow is falling and whirling about. People are passing on foot, holding their cloaks tightly around them. Some of them are revelers in fancy dress: they wear masks on their faces or hanging around their necks, as if returning from parties. Now they are glancing up at the facade of the old house. The window above the street is open and Old Salieri stands there calling to the sky: a sharp-featured, white-haired Italian over seventy years old, wearing a stained dressing gown. OLD SALIERI Mozart! Mozart! I cannot bear it any longer! I confess! I confess what I did! I'm guilty! I killed you! Sir I confess! I killed you! The door of the house bursts open. The Valet hobbles out, holding the sugared cake. The wind catches at his shawl. OLD SALIERI Mozart, perdonami! Forgive your assassin! Piet ! Piet ! Forgive your assassin! Forgive me! Forgive! Forgive! VALET (looking up to the window) That's all right, Signore! He heard you! He forgave you! He wants you to go inside now and shut the window! Old Salieri stares down at him. Some of the passersby have now stopped and are watching this spectacle. VALET Come on, Signore! Look what I have for you! I can't give it to you from down here, can I? Old Salieri looks at him in contempt. Then he turns away back into the room, shutting the window with a bang. Through the glass, the old man stares down at the group of onlookers in the street. They stare back at him in confusion. BYSTANDER Who is that? VALET No one, sir. He'll be all right. Poor man. He's a little unhappy, you know. He makes a sign indicating 'crazy,' and goes back inside the house. The onlookers keep staring. CUT TO: INT. LANDING OUTSIDE OLD SALIERI'S SALON - NIGHT The Cook is standing holding the candlestick in one hand, the dish of cakes in the other. The Valet arrives, panting. VALET Did he open? The Cook, scared, shakes his head: no. The Valet again knocks on the door. VALET Here I am, Signore. Now open the door. He eats the sugared cake in his hand, elaborately and noisily. VALET Mmmm - this is good! This is the most delicious thing I ever ate, believe me! Signore, you don't know what you're missing! Mmmm! We hear a thump from inside the bedroom. VALET Now that's enough, Signore! Open! We hear a terrible, throaty groaning. VALET If you don't open this door, we're going to eat everything. There'll be nothing left for you. And I'm not going to bring you anything more. He looks down. From under the door we see a trickle of blood flowing. In horror, the two men stare at it. The dish of cakes falls from the Cook's hand and shatters. He sets the candlestick down on the floor. Both servants run at the door frantically - once, twice, three times - and the frail lock gives. The door flies open. Immediately, the stormy, frenzied opening of Mozart's Symphony No. 25 (the Little G Minor) begins. We see what the servants see. INT. OLD SALIERI'S SALON - NIGHT Old Salieri lies on the floor in a pool of blood, an open razor in his hand. He has cut his throat but is still alive. He gestures at them. They run to him. Barely, we glimpse the room - an old chair, old tables piled with books, a forte- piano, a chamber-pot on the floor - as the Valet and the Cook struggle to lift their old Master, and bind his bleeding throat with a napkin. INT. BALLROOM - NIGHT Twenty-five dancing couples, fifty guests, ten servants, full orchestra. As the music slows a little, we see a Masquerade Ball in progress. A crowded room of dancers is executing the slow portion of a dance fashionable in the early 1820's. EXT. STREET OUTSIDE SALIERI'S HOUSE - NIGHT As the fast music returns, we see Old Salieri being carried out of his house on a stretcher by two attendants, and placed in a horse-drawn wagon under the supervision of a middle- aged doctor in a tall hat. This is DOCTOR GULDEN. He gets in beside his patient. The driver whips up the horse, and the wagon dashes off through the still-falling snow. MONTAGE: EXT. FOUR STREETS OF VIENNA AND INT. THE WAGON - NIGHT The wagon is galloping through the snowy streets of the city. Inside the conveyance we see Old Salieri wrapped in blankets, half-conscious, being held by the hospital attendants. Doctor Gulden stares at him grimly. The wagon arrives outside the General Hospital of Vienna. CUT TO: INT. A HOSPITAL CORRIDOR - LATE AFTERNOON A wide, white-washed corridor. Doctor Gulden is walking down it with a priest, a man of about forty, concerned, but somewhat self-important. This is Father VOGLER, Chaplain at the hospital. In the corridor as they walk, we note several patients -- some of them visibly disturbed mentally. All patients wear white linen smocks. Doctor Gulden wears a dark frock-coat; Vogler, a cassock. DOCTOR GULDEN He's going to live. It's much harder to cut your throat than most people imagine. They stop outside a door. DOCTOR GULDEN Here we are. Do you wish me to come in with you? VOGLER No, Doctor. Thank you. Vogler nods and opens the door. INT. OLD SALIERI'S HOSPITAL ROOM - LATE AFTERNOON A bare room - one of the best available in the General Hospital. It contains a bed, a table with candles, chairs, a small forte-piano of the early nineteenth century. As Vogler enters, Old Salieri is sitting in a wheel-chair, looking out the window. His back is to us. The priest closes the door quietly behind him. VOGLER Herr Salieri? Old Salieri turns around to look at him. We see that his throat is bandaged expertly. He wears hospital garb, and over it the Civilian Medal and Chain with which we will later see the EMPEROR invest him. OLD SALIERI What do you want? VOGLER I am Father Vogler. I am a Chaplain here. I thought you might like to talk to someone. OLD SALIERI About what? VOGLER You tried to take your life. You do remember that, don't you? OLD SALIERI So? VOGLER In the sight of God that is a sin. OLD SALIERI What do you want? VOGLER Do you understand that you have sinned? Gravely. OLD SALIERI Leave me alone. VOGLER I cannot leave alone a soul in pain. OLD SALIERI Do you know who I am? You never heard of me, did you? VOGLER That makes no difference. All men are equal in God's eyes. OLD SALIERI Are they? VOGLER Offer me your confession. I can offer you God's forgiveness. OLD SALIERI I do not seek forgiveness. VOGLER My son, there is something dreadful on your soul. Unburden it to me. I'm here only for you. Please talk to me. OLD SALIERI How well are you trained in music? VOGLER I know a little. I studied it in my youth. OLD SALIERI Where? VOGLER Here in Vienna. OLD SALIERI Then you must know this. He propels his wheelchair to the forte-piano, and plays an unrecognizable melody. VOGLER I can't say I do. What is it? OLD SALIERI I'm surprised you don't know. It was a very popular tune in its day. I wrote it. How about this? He plays another tune. OLD SALIERI This one brought down the house when we played it first. He plays it with growing enthusiasm. CUT TO: INT. THE STAGE OF AN OPERA HOUSE - NIGHT - 1780'S We see the pretty soprano KATHERINA CAVALIERI, now about twenty-four, dressed in an elaborate mythological Persian costume, singing on stage. She's near the end of a very florid aria by Salieri. The audience applauds wildly. INT. OLD SALIERI'S HOSPITAL ROOM - LATE AFTERNOON - 1823 OLD SALIERI (taking his hands off the keys) Well? VOGLER I regret it is not too familiar. OLD SALIERI Can you recall no melody of mine? I was the most famous composer in Europe when you were still a boy. I wrote forty operas alone. What about this little thing? Slyly he plays the opening measure of Mozart's Eine Kleine Nachtmusik. The priest nods, smiling suddenly, and hums a little with the music. VOGLER Oh, I know that! That's charming! I didn't know you wrote that. OLD SALIERI I didn't. That was Mozart. Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart. You know who that is? VOGLER Of course. The man you accuse yourself of killing. OLD SALIERI Ah - you've heard that? VOGLER All Vienna has heard that. OLD SALIERI ( eagerly) And do they believe it? VOGLER Is it true? OLD SALIERI Do you believe it? VOGLER Should I? A very long pause. Salieri stares above the priest, seemingly lost in his own private world. VOGLER For God's sake, my son, if you have anything to confess, do it now! Give yourself some peace! A further pause. VOGLER Do you hear me? OLD SALIERI He was murdered, Father! Mozart! Cruelly murdered. Pause. VOGLER (almost whispering) Yes? Did you do it? Suddenly Old Salieri turns to him, a look of extreme innocence. OLD SALIERI He was my idol! I can't remember a time when I didn't know his name! When I was only fourteen he was already famous. Even in Legnago - the tiniest town in Italy - I knew of him. CUT TO: EXT. A SMALL TOWN SQUARE IN LOMBARDY, ITALY - DAY - 1780'S There are twelve children and twenty adults in the square. We see the fourteen-year-old Salieri blindfolded, playing a game of Blindman's Bluff with other Italian children, running about in the bright sunshine and laughing. OLD SALIERI (V.O.) I was still playing childish games when he was playing music for kings and emperors. Even the Pope in Rome! CUT TO: INT. A SALON IN THE VATICAN - DAY - 1780'S We see the six-year-old MOZART, also blindfolded, seated in a gilded chair on a pile of books, playing the harpsichord for the POPE and a suite of CARDINALS and other churchmen. Beside the little boy stands LEOPOLD, his father, smirking with pride. OLD SALIERI (V.O.) I admit I was jealous when I heard the tales they told about him. Not of the brilliant little prodigy himself, but of his father, who had taught him everything. The piece finishes. Leopold lowers the lid of the harpsichord and lifts up his little son to stand on it. Mozart removes the blindfold to show a pale little face with staring eyes. Both father and son bow. A Papal Chamberlain presents Leopold with a gold snuff box whilst the cardinals decorously applaud. Over this scene Old Salieri speaks. OLD SALIERI (V.O.) My father did not care for music. He wanted me only to be a merchant, like himself. As anonymous as he was. When I told how I wished I could be like Mozart, he would say, Why? Do you want to be a trained monkey? Would you like me to drag you around Europe doing tricks like a circus freak? How could I tell him what music meant to me? CUT TO: EXT. A COUNTRY CHURCH IN NORTH ITALY - DAY - 1780'S Serene music of the Italian Baroque - Pergolesi's Stabat Mater - sung by a choir of boys with organ accompaniment. We see the outside of the 17th-century church sitting in the wide landscape of Lombardy: sunlit fields, a dusty, white road, poplar trees. INT. THE CHURCH AT LEGNAGO - DAY - 1780'S The music continues and swells. We see the twelve-year-old Salieri seated between his plump and placid parents in the congregation, listening in rapture. His father is a heavy- looking, self-approving man, obviously indifferent to the music. A large and austere Christ on the cross hangs over the altar. Candles burn below his image. OLD SALIERI (V.O.) Even then a spray of sounded notes could make me dizzy, almost to falling. The boy falls forward on his knees. So do his parents and the other members of the congregation. He stares up at Christ who stares back at him. OLD SALIERI (V.O.) Whilst my father prayed earnestly to God to protect commerce, I would offer up secretly the proudest prayer a boy could think of. Lord, make me a great composer! Let me celebrate your glory through music - and be celebrated myself! Make me famous through the world, dear God! Make me immortal! After I die let people speak my name forever with love for what I wrote! In return I vow I will give you my chastity - my industry, my deepest humility, every hour of my life. And I will help my fellow man all I can. Amen and amen! The music swells to a crescendo. The candles flare. We see the Christ through the flames looking at the boy benignly. OLD SALIERI (V.O.) And do you know what happened? A miracle! INT. DINING ROOM IN THE SALIERI HOUSE - DAY - 1780'S CU, a large cooked fish on a thick china plate. Camera pulls back to show the Salieri family at dinner. Father Salieri sits at the head of the table, a napkin tucked into his chin. Mother Salieri is serving the fish into portions and handing them round. Two maiden aunts are in attendance, wearing black, and of course the young boy. Father Salieri receives his plate of fish and starts to eat greedily. Suddenly there is a gasp - he starts to choke violently on a fish bone. All the women get up and crowd around him, thumping and pummeling him, but it is in vain. Father Salieri collapses. INT. OLD SALIERI'S HOSPITAL ROOM - LATE AFTERNOON - 1823 OLD SALIERI Suddenly he was dead. Just like that! And my life changed forever. My mother said, Go. Study music if you really want to. Off with you! And off I went as quick as I could and never saw Italy again. Of course, I knew God had arranged it all; that was obvious. One moment I was a frustrated boy in an obscure little town. The next I was here, in Vienna, city of musicians, sixteen years old and studying under Gluck! Gluck, Father. Do you know who he was? The greatest composer of his time. And he loved me! That was the wonder. He taught me everything he knew. And when I was ready, introduced me personally to the Emperor! Emperor Joseph - the musical king! Within a few years I was his court composer. Wasn't that incredible? Imperial Composer to His Majesty! Actually the man had no ear at all, but what did it matter? He adored my music, that was enough. Night after night I sat right next to the Emperor of Austria, playing duets with him, correcting the royal sight-reading. Tell me, if you had been me, wouldn't you have thought God had accepted your vow? And believe me, I honoured it. I was a model of virtue. I kept my hands off women, worked hours every day teaching students, many of them for free, sitting on endless committees to help poor musicians - work and work and work, that was all my life. And it was wonderful! Everybody liked me. I liked myself. I was the most successful musician in Vienna. And the happiest. Till he came. Mozart. CUT TO: INT. THE ARCHBISHOP OF SALZBURG'S RESIDENCE - VIENNA - DAY - 1780'S A grand room crowded with guests. A small group of Gypsy musicians is playing in the background. Thirteen members of the Archbishop's orchestra - all wind players, complete with 18th-century wind instruments: elaborate-looking bassoons, basset horns, etc. and wearing their employer's livery - are laying out music on stands at one end of the room. At the other end is a large gilded chair, bearing the arms of the ARCHBISHOP OF SALZBURG. A throng of people is standing, talking, and preparing to sit upon the rows of waiting chairs to hear a concert. OLD SALIERI (V.O.) One day he came to Vienna to play some of his music at the residence of his employer, the Prince-Archbishop of Salzburg. Eagerly I went there to seek him out. That night changed my life. We see Salieri, age thirty-one, a neat, carefully turned-cut man in decent black clothes and clean white linen, walking through the crowd of guests. We follow him. OLD SALIERI (V.O.) As I went through the salon, I played a game with myself. This man had written his first concerto at the age of four; his first symphony at seven; a full-scale opera at twelve. Did it show? Is talent like that written on the face? We see shots of assorted young men staring back at Salieri as he moves through the crowd. OLD SALIERI (V.O.) Which one of them could he be? Some of the men recognize Salieri and bow respectfully. Then suddenly a servant bearing a large tray of cakes and pastries stalks past. Instantly riveted by the sight of such delights, Salieri follows him out of the Grand Salon. INT. A PALACE CORRIDOR - DAY - 1780'S The servant marches along bearing his tray of pastries aloft. Salieri follows him. The servant turns into: INT. BUFFET ROOM IN THE PALACE - DAY - 1780'S Salieri's POV: several tables, dressed to the floor with cloths are loaded with many plates of confectionery. It is, in fact, Salieri's idea of paradise! The servant puts his tray down on one of the tables and withdraws from the room. INT. A PALACE CORRIDOR - DAY - 1780'S Salieri turns away so as not to be noticed by the servant. As soon as the man disappears, Salieri sneaks into the buffet room. INT. BUFFET ROOM IN THE PALACE - DAY - 1780'S Salieri enters the room and looks about him cautiously. He is salivating with anticipation as he stares at the feast of sweet things. His attention is attracted in particular by a huge pile of dark chocolate balls arranged in the shape of a pineapple. He reaches out a hand to steal one of the balls, but at the same moment he hears giggling coming toward him. He ducks down behind the pastry table. A girl - CONSTANZE - rushes into the room. She runs straight across it and hides herself behind one of the tables. After a beat of total silence, MOZART runs into the room, stops, and looks around. He is age twenty-six, wearing a fine wig and a brilliant coat with the insignia of the Archbishop of Salzburg upon it. He is puzzled; Constanze has disappeared. Baffled, he turns and is about to leave the room, when Constanze suddenly squeaks from under the cloth like a tiny mouse. Instantly Mozart drops to all fours and starts crawling across the floor, meowing and hissing like a naughty cat. Watched by an astonished Salieri, Mozart disappears under the cloth and obviously pounces upon Constanze. We hear a high-pitched giggle, which is going to characterize Mozart throughout the film. CUT TO: INT. PALACE GRAND SALON - DAY - 1780'S The throng is mostly seated. The musicians are in their places, holding their various exotic-looking wind instruments; the candles are all lit. A Majordomo appears and bangs his staff on the floor for attention. Immediately COLLOREDO, Prince-Archbishop of Salzburg enters. He is a small self- important figure of fifty in a wig, surmounted by a scarlet skullcap. He is followed by his Chamberlain, the Count ARCO. Everyone stands. The Archbishop goes to his throne and sits. His guests sit also. Arco gives the signal to start the music. Nothing happens. Instead, a wind musician gets up, approaches the Chamberlain and whispers in his ear. Arco in turn whispers to the Archbishop. ARCO Mozart is not here. COLLOREDO Where is he? ARCO They're looking for him, Your Grace. INT. A PALACE CORRIDOR - DAY - 1780'S Three servants are opening doors and looking into rooms going off the corridor. CUT TO: INT. PALACE GRAND SALON - DAY - 1780'S The guests are turning around and looking at the Archbishop. The musicians are watching. There is puzzlement and a murmur of comment. The Archbishop tightens his lip. COLLOREDO (to Arco) We'll start without him. INT. PALACE BUFFET ROOM - DAY - 1780'S Mozart is on his knees before the tablecloth, which reaches to the floor. Under it is Constanze. We hear her giggling as he talks. MOZART Miaouw! Miaouw! Mouse-wouse? It's Puss-wuss, fangs-wangs. Paws-claws. Pounce-bounce! He grabs her ankle. She screams. He pulls her out by her leg. CONSTANZE Stop it. Stop it! They roll on the floor. He tickles her. CONSTANZE Stop it! MOZART I am! I am! I'm stopping it - slowly. You see! Look, I've stopped. Now we are going back. He tries to drag her back under the table. CONSTANZE No! No! No! MOZART Yes! Back! Back! Listen - don't you know where you are? CONSTANZE Where? MOZART We are in the Residence of the Fartsbishop of Salzburg. CONSTANZE Fartsbishop! She laughs delightedly, then addresses an imaginary Archbishop. CONSTANZE Your Grace, I've got something to tell you. I want to complain about this man. MOZART Go ahead, tell him. Tell them all. They won't understand you anyway. CONSTANZE Why not? MOZART Because here everything goes backwards. People walk backwards, dance backwards, sing backwards, and talk backwards. CONSTANZE That's stupid. MOZART Why? People fart backwards. CONSTANZE Do you think that's funny? MOZART Yes, I think it's brilliant. You've been doing it for years. He gives a high pitched giggle. CONSTANZE Oh, ha, ha, ha. MOZART Sra-I'm-sick! Sra-I'm sick! CONSTANZE Yes, you are. You're very sick. MOZART No, no. Say it backwards, shit-wit. Sra-I'm-sick Say it backwards! CONSTANZE (working it out) Sra-I'm-sick. Sick - kiss I'm - my Kiss my! Sra-I'm-sick - Kiss my arse! MOZART Em iram! Em iram! CONSTANZE No, I'm not playing this game. MOZART No, this is serious. Say it backwards. CONSTANZE No! MOZART Just say it - you'll see. It's very serious. Em iram! Em iram! CONSTANZE Iram - marry Em - marry me! No, no! You're a fiend. I'm not going to marry a fiend. A dirty fiend at that. MOZART Ui-vol-i-tub! CONSTANZE Tub - but i-tub - but I vol - love but I love ui - You. I love you! The mood becomes suddenly softer. She kisses him. They embrace. Then he spoils it. MOZART Tish-I'm tee. What's that? CONSTANZE What? MOZART Tish-I'm-tee. CONSTANZE Eat MOZART Yes. CONSTANZE Eat my - ah! Shocked, she strikes at him. At the same moment the music starts in the salon next door. We hear the opening of the Serenade for Thirteen Wind Instruments, K. MOZART My music! They've started! They've started without me! He leaps up, disheveled and rumpled and runs out of the room. Salieri watches in amazement and disgust. CUT TO: INT. PALACE CORRIDOR - DAY - 1780'S The music is louder. Mozart hastens towards the Grand Salon away from the buffet room, adjusting his dress as he goes. INT. GRAND SALON - DAY - 1780'S The opening of the Serenade is being tentatively conducted by the leader of the wind-musicians. Guests turn around as Mozart appears - bowing to the Archbishop - and walks with an attempt at dignity to the dais where the wind band is playing. The leader yields his place to the composer and Mozart smoothly takes over conducting. Constanze, deeply embarrassed, sneaks into the room and seats herself at the back. INT. PALACE BUFFET ROOM - DAY - 1780'S The music fades down. Salieri stands shocked from his inadvertent eavesdropping. After a second he moves almost in a trance toward the door; the music dissolves. INT. GRAND SALON - DAY - 1780'S Mozart is conducting the Adagio from his Serenade (K. 361), guiding the thirteen wind instrumentalists. The squeezebox opening of the movement begins. Salieri appears at the door at the back of the salon. He stares in disbelief at Mozart. OLD SALIERI (V.O.) So that was he! That giggling, dirty- minded creature I'd just seen crawling on the floor. Mozart. The phenomenon whose legend had haunted my youth. Impossible. The music swells up and Salieri listens to it with eyes closed - amazed, transported - suddenly engulfed by the sound. Finally it fades down and away and changes into applause. Salieri opens his eyes. The audience is clearly delighted. Mozart bows to them, also delighted. Colloredo rises abruptly, and without looking at Mozart or applauding and leaves the Salon. Count Arco approaches the composer. Mozart turns to him, radiant. ARCO Follow me, please. The Archbishop would like a word. MOZART Certainly! He follows Arco out of the room, through a throng of admirers. INT. ANOTHER PALACE CORRIDOR - DAY - 1780'S Mozart and Arco walk side by side. They pass Salieri who is staring at Mozart in fascination. As they disappear, he steals toward the music stands, unable to help himself. MOZART Well, I think that went off remarkably well, don't you? ARCO Indeed. MOZART These Viennese certainly know good music when they hear it. ARCO His Grace is very angry with you. MOZART What do you mean? They arrive at the door of Colloredo's private apartment. ARCO You are to come in here and ask his pardon. Arco opens the door. INT. ARCHBISHOP'S PRIVATE ROOM - DAY - 1780'S The Archbishop is sitting, chatting to quests. Among them are several ladies. Arco approaches him obsequiously. ARCO Your Grace. COLLOREDO Ah, Mozart. Why? MOZART Why what, sir? COLLOREDO Why do I have to be humiliated in front of my guests by one of my own servants? MOZART Humiliated? COLLOREDO How much provocation am I to endure from you? The more license I allow you, the more you take. The company watches this scene, deeply interested. MOZART If His Grace is not satisfied with me, he can dismiss me. COLLOREDO I wish you to return immediately to Salzburg. Your father is waiting for you there patiently. I will speak to you further when I come. MOZART No, Your Grace! I mean with all humility, no. I would rather you dismissed me. It's obvious I don't satisfy. COLLOREDO Then try harder, Mozart. I have no intention of dismissing you. You will remain in my service and learn your place. Go now. He extends his hand to be kissed. Mozart does it with a furious grace, then leaves the room. As he opens the door we see: INT. PALACE CORRIDOR - DAY - 1780'S A group of people who have attended the concert, among them Constanze, are standing outside the private apartment. At sight of the composer they break into sustained applause. Mozart is suddenly delighted. He throws the door wide open so that the guests can see into the private apartment where the Archbishop sits

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Amadeus Script at IMSDb. var _gaq = _gaq || []; _gaq.push(['_setAccount', 'UA-3785444-3']); _gaq.push(['_trackPageview']); (function() { var ga = document.createElement('script'); ga.type = 'text/javascript'; ga.async = true; ga.src = ('https:' == document.location.protocol ? 'https://ssl' : 'http://www') + '.google-analytics.com/ga.js'; var s = document.getElementsByTagName('script')[0]; s.parentNode.insertBefore(ga, s); })(); The Internet Movie Script Database (IMSDb) The web's largest movie script resource! Search IMSDb Alphabetical # A B C D E F G H I J K L M N O P Q R S T U V W X Y Z Genre Action Adventure Animation Comedy Crime Drama Family Fantasy Film-Noir Horror Musical Mystery Romance Sci-Fi Short Thriller War Western Sponsor TV Transcripts Futurama Seinfeld South Park Stargate SG-1 Lost The 4400 International French scripts Movie Software Rip from DVD Rip Blu-Ray Latest Comments Star Wars: Revenge of the Sith10/10 Star Wars: The Force Awakens10/10 Batman Begins9/10 Collateral10/10 Jackie Brown8/10 Movie Chat Message Yell ! ALL SCRIPTS if (window!= top) top.location.href=location.href // --> AMADEUS "AMADEUS" by Peter Shaffer Final Draft INT. STAIRCASE OUTSIDE OLD SALIERI'S SALON - NIGHT - 1823 Total darkness. We hear an old man's voice, distinct and in distress. It is OLD SALIERI. He uses a mixture of English and occasionally Italian. OLD SALIERI Mozart! Mozart! Mozart. Forgive me! Forgive your assassin! Mozart! A faint light illuminates the screen. Flickeringly, we see an eighteenth century balustrade and a flight of stone stairs. We are looking down into the wall of the staircase from the point of view of the landing. Up the stair is coming a branched candlestick held by Salieri's VALET. By his side is Salieri's COOK, bearing a large dish of sugared cakes and biscuits. Both men are desperately worried: the Valet is thin and middle-aged; the Cook, plump and Italian. It is very cold. They wear shawls over their night-dresses and clogs on their feet. They wheeze as they climb. The candles throw their shadows up onto the peeling walls of the house, which is evidently an old one and in bad decay. A cat scuttles swiftly between their bare legs, as they reach the salon door. The Valet tries the handle. It is locked. Behind it the voice goes on, rising in volume. OLD SALIERI Show some mercy! I beg you. I beg you! Show mercy to a guilty man! The Valet knocks gently on the door. The voice stops. VALET Open the door, Signore! Please! Be good now! We've brought you something special. Something you're going to love. Silence. VALET Signore Salieri! Open the door. Come now. Be good! The voice of Old Salieri continues again, further off now, and louder. We hear a noise as if a window is being opened. OLD SALIERI Mozart! Mozart! I confess it! Listen! I confess! The two servants look at each other in alarm. Then the Valet hands the candlestick to the Cook and takes a sugared cake from the dish, scrambling as quickly as he can back down the stairs. EXT. THE STREET OUTSIDE SALIERI'S HOUSE - VIENNA - NIGHT The street is filled with people: ten cabs with drivers, five children, fifteen adults, two doormen, fifteen dancing couples and a sled and three dogs. It is a windy night. Snow is falling and whirling about. People are passing on foot, holding their cloaks tightly around them. Some of them are revelers in fancy dress: they wear masks on their faces or hanging around their necks, as if returning from parties. Now they are glancing up at the facade of the old house. The window above the street is open and Old Salieri stands there calling to the sky: a sharp-featured, white-haired Italian over seventy years old, wearing a stained dressing gown. OLD SALIERI Mozart! Mozart! I cannot bear it any longer! I confess! I confess what I did! I'm guilty! I killed you! Sir I confess! I killed you! The door of the house bursts open. The Valet hobbles out, holding the sugared cake. The wind catches at his shawl. OLD SALIERI Mozart, perdonami! Forgive your assassin! Piet ! Piet ! Forgive your assassin! Forgive me! Forgive! Forgive! VALET (looking up to the window) That's all right, Signore! He heard you! He forgave you! He wants you to go inside now and shut the window! Old Salieri stares down at him. Some of the passersby have now stopped and are watching this spectacle. VALET Come on, Signore! Look what I have for you! I can't give it to you from down here, can I? Old Salieri looks at him in contempt. Then he turns away back into the room, shutting the window with a bang. Through the glass, the old man stares down at the group of onlookers in the street. They stare back at him in confusion. BYSTANDER Who is that? VALET No one, sir. He'll be all right. Poor man. He's a little unhappy, you know. He makes a sign indicating 'crazy,' and goes back inside the house. The onlookers keep staring. CUT TO: INT. LANDING OUTSIDE OLD SALIERI'S SALON - NIGHT The Cook is standing holding the candlestick in one hand, the dish of cakes in the other. The Valet arrives, panting. VALET Did he open? The Cook, scared, shakes his head: no. The Valet again knocks on the door. VALET Here I am, Signore. Now open the door. He eats the sugared cake in his hand, elaborately and noisily. VALET Mmmm - this is good! This is the most delicious thing I ever ate, believe me! Signore, you don't know what you're missing! Mmmm! We hear a thump from inside the bedroom. VALET Now that's enough, Signore! Open! We hear a terrible, throaty groaning. VALET If you don't open this door, we're going to eat everything. There'll be nothing left for you. And I'm not going to bring you anything more. He looks down. From under the door we see a trickle of blood flowing. In horror, the two men stare at it. The dish of cakes falls from the Cook's hand and shatters. He sets the candlestick down on the floor. Both servants run at the door frantically - once, twice, three times - and the frail lock gives. The door flies open. Immediately, the stormy, frenzied opening of Mozart's Symphony No. 25 (the Little G Minor) begins. We see what the servants see. INT. OLD SALIERI'S SALON - NIGHT Old Salieri lies on the floor in a pool of blood, an open razor in his hand. He has cut his throat but is still alive. He gestures at them. They run to him. Barely, we glimpse the room - an old chair, old tables piled with books, a forte- piano, a chamber-pot on the floor - as the Valet and the Cook struggle to lift their old Master, and bind his bleeding throat with a napkin. INT. BALLROOM - NIGHT Twenty-five dancing couples, fifty guests, ten servants, full orchestra. As the music slows a little, we see a Masquerade Ball in progress. A crowded room of dancers is executing the slow portion of a dance fashionable in the early 1820's. EXT. STREET OUTSIDE SALIERI'S HOUSE - NIGHT As the fast music returns, we see Old Salieri being carried out of his house on a stretcher by two attendants, and placed in a horse-drawn wagon under the supervision of a middle- aged doctor in a tall hat. This is DOCTOR GULDEN. He gets in beside his patient. The driver whips up the horse, and the wagon dashes off through the still-falling snow. MONTAGE: EXT. FOUR STREETS OF VIENNA AND INT. THE WAGON - NIGHT The wagon is galloping through the snowy streets of the city. Inside the conveyance we see Old Salieri wrapped in blankets, half-conscious, being held by the hospital attendants. Doctor Gulden stares at him grimly. The wagon arrives outside the General Hospital of Vienna. CUT TO: INT. A HOSPITAL CORRIDOR - LATE AFTERNOON A wide, white-washed corridor. Doctor Gulden is walking down it with a priest, a man of about forty, concerned, but somewhat self-important. This is Father VOGLER, Chaplain at the hospital. In the corridor as they walk, we note several patients -- some of them visibly disturbed mentally. All patients wear white linen smocks. Doctor Gulden wears a dark frock-coat; Vogler, a cassock. DOCTOR GULDEN He's going to live. It's much harder to cut your throat than most people imagine. They stop outside a door. DOCTOR GULDEN Here we are. Do you wish me to come in with you? VOGLER No, Doctor. Thank you. Vogler nods and opens the door. INT. OLD SALIERI'S HOSPITAL ROOM - LATE AFTERNOON A bare room - one of the best available in the General Hospital. It contains a bed, a table with candles, chairs, a small forte-piano of the early nineteenth century. As Vogler enters, Old Salieri is sitting in a wheel-chair, looking out the window. His back is to us. The priest closes the door quietly behind him. VOGLER Herr Salieri? Old Salieri turns around to look at him. We see that his throat is bandaged expertly. He wears hospital garb, and over it the Civilian Medal and Chain with which we will later see the EMPEROR invest him. OLD SALIERI What do you want? VOGLER I am Father Vogler. I am a Chaplain here. I thought you might like to talk to someone. OLD SALIERI About what? VOGLER You tried to take your life. You do remember that, don't you? OLD SALIERI So? VOGLER In the sight of God that is a sin. OLD SALIERI What do you want? VOGLER Do you understand that you have sinned? Gravely. OLD SALIERI Leave me alone. VOGLER I cannot leave alone a soul in pain. OLD SALIERI Do you know who I am? You never heard of me, did you? VOGLER That makes no difference. All men are equal in God's eyes. OLD SALIERI Are they? VOGLER Offer me your confession. I can offer you God's forgiveness. OLD SALIERI I do not seek forgiveness. VOGLER My son, there is something dreadful on your soul. Unburden it to me. I'm here only for you. Please talk to me. OLD SALIERI How well are you trained in music? VOGLER I know a little. I studied it in my youth. OLD SALIERI Where? VOGLER Here in Vienna. OLD SALIERI Then you must know this. He propels his wheelchair to the forte-piano, and plays an unrecognizable melody. VOGLER I can't say I do. What is it? OLD SALIERI I'm surprised you don't know. It was a very popular tune in its day. I wrote it. How about this? He plays another tune. OLD SALIERI This one brought down the house when we played it first. He plays it with growing enthusiasm. CUT TO: INT. THE STAGE OF AN OPERA HOUSE - NIGHT - 1780'S We see the pretty soprano KATHERINA CAVALIERI, now about twenty-four, dressed in an elaborate mythological Persian costume, singing on stage. She's near the end of a very florid aria by Salieri. The audience applauds wildly. INT. OLD SALIERI'S HOSPITAL ROOM - LATE AFTERNOON - 1823 OLD SALIERI (taking his hands off the keys) Well? VOGLER I regret it is not too familiar. OLD SALIERI Can you recall no melody of mine? I was the most famous composer in Europe when you were still a boy. I wrote forty operas alone. What about this little thing? Slyly he plays the opening measure of Mozart's Eine Kleine Nachtmusik. The priest nods, smiling suddenly, and hums a little with the music. VOGLER Oh, I know that! That's charming! I didn't know you wrote that. OLD SALIERI I didn't. That was Mozart. Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart. You know who that is? VOGLER Of course. The man you accuse yourself of killing. OLD SALIERI Ah - you've heard that? VOGLER All Vienna has heard that. OLD SALIERI ( eagerly) And do they believe it? VOGLER Is it true? OLD SALIERI Do you believe it? VOGLER Should I? A very long pause. Salieri stares above the priest, seemingly lost in his own private world. VOGLER For God's sake, my son, if you have anything to confess, do it now! Give yourself some peace! A further pause. VOGLER Do you hear me? OLD SALIERI He was murdered, Father! Mozart! Cruelly murdered. Pause. VOGLER (almost whispering) Yes? Did you do it? Suddenly Old Salieri turns to him, a look of extreme innocence. OLD SALIERI He was my idol! I can't remember a time when I didn't know his name! When I was only fourteen he was already famous. Even in Legnago - the tiniest town in Italy - I knew of him. CUT TO: EXT. A SMALL TOWN SQUARE IN LOMBARDY, ITALY - DAY - 1780'S There are twelve children and twenty adults in the square. We see the fourteen-year-old Salieri blindfolded, playing a game of Blindman's Bluff with other Italian children, running about in the bright sunshine and laughing. OLD SALIERI (V.O.) I was still playing childish games when he was playing music for kings and emperors. Even the Pope in Rome! CUT TO: INT. A SALON IN THE VATICAN - DAY - 1780'S We see the six-year-old MOZART, also blindfolded, seated in a gilded chair on a pile of books, playing the harpsichord for the POPE and a suite of CARDINALS and other churchmen. Beside the little boy stands LEOPOLD, his father, smirking with pride. OLD SALIERI (V.O.) I admit I was jealous when I heard the tales they told about him. Not of the brilliant little prodigy himself, but of his father, who had taught him everything. The piece finishes. Leopold lowers the lid of the harpsichord and lifts up his little son to stand on it. Mozart removes the blindfold to show a pale little face with staring eyes. Both father and son bow. A Papal Chamberlain presents Leopold with a gold snuff box whilst the cardinals decorously applaud. Over this scene Old Salieri speaks. OLD SALIERI (V.O.) My father did not care for music. He wanted me only to be a merchant, like himself. As anonymous as he was. When I told how I wished I could be like Mozart, he would say, Why? Do you want to be a trained monkey? Would you like me to drag you around Europe doing tricks like a circus freak? How could I tell him what music meant to me? CUT TO: EXT. A COUNTRY CHURCH IN NORTH ITALY - DAY - 1780'S Serene music of the Italian Baroque - Pergolesi's Stabat Mater - sung by a choir of boys with organ accompaniment. We see the outside of the 17th-century church sitting in the wide landscape of Lombardy: sunlit fields, a dusty, white road, poplar trees. INT. THE CHURCH AT LEGNAGO - DAY - 1780'S The music continues and swells. We see the twelve-year-old Salieri seated between his plump and placid parents in the congregation, listening in rapture. His father is a heavy- looking, self-approving man, obviously indifferent to the music. A large and austere Christ on the cross hangs over the altar. Candles burn below his image. OLD SALIERI (V.O.) Even then a spray of sounded notes could make me dizzy, almost to falling. The boy falls forward on his knees. So do his parents and the other members of the congregation. He stares up at Christ who stares back at him. OLD SALIERI (V.O.) Whilst my father prayed earnestly to God to protect commerce, I would offer up secretly the proudest prayer a boy could think of. Lord, make me a great composer! Let me celebrate your glory through music - and be celebrated myself! Make me famous through the world, dear God! Make me immortal! After I die let people speak my name forever with love for what I wrote! In return I vow I will give you my chastity - my industry, my deepest humility, every hour of my life. And I will help my fellow man all I can. Amen and amen! The music swells to a crescendo. The candles flare. We see the Christ through the flames looking at the boy benignly. OLD SALIERI (V.O.) And do you know what happened? A miracle! INT. DINING ROOM IN THE SALIERI HOUSE - DAY - 1780'S CU, a large cooked fish on a thick china plate. Camera pulls back to show the Salieri family at dinner. Father Salieri sits at the head of the table, a napkin tucked into his chin. Mother Salieri is serving the fish into portions and handing them round. Two maiden aunts are in attendance, wearing black, and of course the young boy. Father Salieri receives his plate of fish and starts to eat greedily. Suddenly there is a gasp - he starts to choke violently on a fish bone. All the women get up and crowd around him, thumping and pummeling him, but it is in vain. Father Salieri collapses. INT. OLD SALIERI'S HOSPITAL ROOM - LATE AFTERNOON - 1823 OLD SALIERI Suddenly he was dead. Just like that! And my life changed forever. My mother said, Go. Study music if you really want to. Off with you! And off I went as quick as I could and never saw Italy again. Of course, I knew God had arranged it all; that was obvious. One moment I was a frustrated boy in an obscure little town. The next I was here, in Vienna, city of musicians, sixteen years old and studying under Gluck! Gluck, Father. Do you know who he was? The greatest composer of his time. And he loved me! That was the wonder. He taught me everything he knew. And when I was ready, introduced me personally to the Emperor! Emperor Joseph - the musical king! Within a few years I was his court composer. Wasn't that incredible? Imperial Composer to His Majesty! Actually the man had no ear at all, but what did it matter? He adored my music, that was enough. Night after night I sat right next to the Emperor of Austria, playing duets with him, correcting the royal sight-reading. Tell me, if you had been me, wouldn't you have thought God had accepted your vow? And believe me, I honoured it. I was a model of virtue. I kept my hands off women, worked hours every day teaching students, many of them for free, sitting on endless committees to help poor musicians - work and work and work, that was all my life. And it was wonderful! Everybody liked me. I liked myself. I was the most successful musician in Vienna. And the happiest. Till he came. Mozart. CUT TO: INT. THE ARCHBISHOP OF SALZBURG'S RESIDENCE - VIENNA - DAY - 1780'S A grand room crowded with guests. A small group of Gypsy musicians is playing in the background. Thirteen members of the Archbishop's orchestra - all wind players, complete with 18th-century wind instruments: elaborate-looking bassoons, basset horns, etc. and wearing their employer's livery - are laying out music on stands at one end of the room. At the other end is a large gilded chair, bearing the arms of the ARCHBISHOP OF SALZBURG. A throng of people is standing, talking, and preparing to sit upon the rows of waiting chairs to hear a concert. OLD SALIERI (V.O.) One day he came to Vienna to play some of his music at the residence of his employer, the Prince-Archbishop of Salzburg. Eagerly I went there to seek him out. That night changed my life. We see Salieri, age thirty-one, a neat, carefully turned-cut man in decent black clothes and clean white linen, walking through the crowd of guests. We follow him. OLD SALIERI (V.O.) As I went through the salon, I played a game with myself. This man had written his first concerto at the age of four; his first symphony at seven; a full-scale opera at twelve. Did it show? Is talent like that written on the face? We see shots of assorted young men staring back at Salieri as he moves through the crowd. OLD SALIERI (V.O.) Which one of them could he be? Some of the men recognize Salieri and bow respectfully. Then suddenly a servant bearing a large tray of cakes and pastries stalks past. Instantly riveted by the sight of such delights, Salieri follows him out of the Grand Salon. INT. A PALACE CORRIDOR - DAY - 1780'S The servant marches along bearing his tray of pastries aloft. Salieri follows him. The servant turns into: INT. BUFFET ROOM IN THE PALACE - DAY - 1780'S Salieri's POV: several tables, dressed to the floor with cloths are loaded with many plates of confectionery. It is, in fact, Salieri's idea of paradise! The servant puts his tray down on one of the tables and withdraws from the room. INT. A PALACE CORRIDOR - DAY - 1780'S Salieri turns away so as not to be noticed by the servant. As soon as the man disappears, Salieri sneaks into the buffet room. INT. BUFFET ROOM IN THE PALACE - DAY - 1780'S Salieri enters the room and looks about him cautiously. He is salivating with anticipation as he stares at the feast of sweet things. His attention is attracted in particular by a huge pile of dark chocolate balls arranged in the shape of a pineapple. He reaches out a hand to steal one of the balls, but at the same moment he hears giggling coming toward him. He ducks down behind the pastry table. A girl - CONSTANZE - rushes into the room. She runs straight across it and hides herself behind one of the tables. After a beat of total silence, MOZART runs into the room, stops, and looks around. He is age twenty-six, wearing a fine wig and a brilliant coat with the insignia of the Archbishop of Salzburg upon it. He is puzzled; Constanze has disappeared. Baffled, he turns and is about to leave the room, when Constanze suddenly squeaks from under the cloth like a tiny mouse. Instantly Mozart drops to all fours and starts crawling across the floor, meowing and hissing like a naughty cat. Watched by an astonished Salieri, Mozart disappears under the cloth and obviously pounces upon Constanze. We hear a high-pitched giggle, which is going to characterize Mozart throughout the film. CUT TO: INT. PALACE GRAND SALON - DAY - 1780'S The throng is mostly seated. The musicians are in their places, holding their various exotic-looking wind instruments; the candles are all lit. A Majordomo appears and bangs his staff on the floor for attention. Immediately COLLOREDO, Prince-Archbishop of Salzburg enters. He is a small self- important figure of fifty in a wig, surmounted by a scarlet skullcap. He is followed by his Chamberlain, the Count ARCO. Everyone stands. The Archbishop goes to his throne and sits. His guests sit also. Arco gives the signal to start the music. Nothing happens. Instead, a wind musician gets up, approaches the Chamberlain and whispers in his ear. Arco in turn whispers to the Archbishop. ARCO Mozart is not here. COLLOREDO Where is he? ARCO They're looking for him, Your Grace. INT. A PALACE CORRIDOR - DAY - 1780'S Three servants are opening doors and looking into rooms going off the corridor. CUT TO: INT. PALACE GRAND SALON - DAY - 1780'S The guests are turning around and looking at the Archbishop. The musicians are watching. There is puzzlement and a murmur of comment. The Archbishop tightens his lip. COLLOREDO (to Arco) We'll start without him. INT. PALACE BUFFET ROOM - DAY - 1780'S Mozart is on his knees before the tablecloth, which reaches to the floor. Under it is Constanze. We hear her giggling as he talks. MOZART Miaouw! Miaouw! Mouse-wouse? It's Puss-wuss, fangs-wangs. Paws-claws. Pounce-bounce! He grabs her ankle. She screams. He pulls her out by her leg. CONSTANZE Stop it. Stop it! They roll on the floor. He tickles her. CONSTANZE Stop it! MOZART I am! I am! I'm stopping it - slowly. You see! Look, I've stopped. Now we are going back. He tries to drag her back under the table. CONSTANZE No! No! No! MOZART Yes! Back! Back! Listen - don't you know where you are? CONSTANZE Where? MOZART We are in the Residence of the Fartsbishop of Salzburg. CONSTANZE Fartsbishop! She laughs delightedly, then addresses an imaginary Archbishop. CONSTANZE Your Grace, I've got something to tell you. I want to complain about this man. MOZART Go ahead, tell him. Tell them all. They won't understand you anyway. CONSTANZE Why not? MOZART Because here everything goes backwards. People walk backwards, dance backwards, sing backwards, and talk backwards. CONSTANZE That's stupid. MOZART Why? People fart backwards. CONSTANZE Do you think that's funny? MOZART Yes, I think it's brilliant. You've been doing it for years. He gives a high pitched giggle. CONSTANZE Oh, ha, ha, ha. MOZART Sra-I'm-sick! Sra-I'm sick! CONSTANZE Yes, you are. You're very sick. MOZART No, no. Say it backwards, shit-wit. Sra-I'm-sick Say it backwards! CONSTANZE (working it out) Sra-I'm-sick. Sick - kiss I'm - my Kiss my! Sra-I'm-sick - Kiss my arse! MOZART Em iram! Em iram! CONSTANZE No, I'm not playing this game. MOZART No, this is serious. Say it backwards. CONSTANZE No! MOZART Just say it - you'll see. It's very serious. Em iram! Em iram! CONSTANZE Iram - marry Em - marry me! No, no! You're a fiend. I'm not going to marry a fiend. A dirty fiend at that. MOZART Ui-vol-i-tub! CONSTANZE Tub - but i-tub - but I vol - love but I love ui - You. I love you! The mood becomes suddenly softer. She kisses him. They embrace. Then he spoils it. MOZART Tish-I'm tee. What's that? CONSTANZE What? MOZART Tish-I'm-tee. CONSTANZE Eat MOZART Yes. CONSTANZE Eat my - ah! Shocked, she strikes at him. At the same moment the music starts in the salon next door. We hear the opening of the Serenade for Thirteen Wind Instruments, K. MOZART My music! They've started! They've started without me! He leaps up, disheveled and rumpled and runs out of the room. Salieri watches in amazement and disgust. CUT TO: INT. PALACE CORRIDOR - DAY - 1780'S The music is louder. Mozart hastens towards the Grand Salon away from the buffet room, adjusting his dress as he goes. INT. GRAND SALON - DAY - 1780'S The opening of the Serenade is being tentatively conducted by the leader of the wind-musicians. Guests turn around as Mozart appears - bowing to the Archbishop - and walks with an attempt at dignity to the dais where the wind band is playing. The leader yields his place to the composer and Mozart smoothly takes over conducting. Constanze, deeply embarrassed, sneaks into the room and seats herself at the back. INT. PALACE BUFFET ROOM - DAY - 1780'S The music fades down. Salieri stands shocked from his inadvertent eavesdropping. After a second he moves almost in a trance toward the door; the music dissolves. INT. GRAND SALON - DAY - 1780'S Mozart is conducting the Adagio from his Serenade (K. 361), guiding the thirteen wind instrumentalists. The squeezebox opening of the movement begins. Salieri appears at the door at the back of the salon. He stares in disbelief at Mozart. OLD SALIERI (V.O.) So that was he! That giggling, dirty- minded creature I'd just seen crawling on the floor. Mozart. The phenomenon whose legend had haunted my youth. Impossible. The music swells up and Salieri listens to it with eyes closed - amazed, transported - suddenly engulfed by the sound. Finally it fades down and away and changes into applause. Salieri opens his eyes. The audience is clearly delighted. Mozart bows to them, also delighted. Colloredo rises abruptly, and without looking at Mozart or applauding and leaves the Salon. Count Arco approaches the composer. Mozart turns to him, radiant. ARCO Follow me, please. The Archbishop would like a word. MOZART Certainly! He follows Arco out of the room, through a throng of admirers. INT. ANOTHER PALACE CORRIDOR - DAY - 1780'S Mozart and Arco walk side by side. They pass Salieri who is staring at Mozart in fascination. As they disappear, he steals toward the music stands, unable to help himself. MOZART Well, I think that went off remarkably well, don't you? ARCO Indeed. MOZART These Viennese certainly know good music when they hear it. ARCO His Grace is very angry with you. MOZART What do you mean? They arrive at the door of Colloredo's private apartment. ARCO You are to come in here and ask his pardon. Arco opens the door. INT. ARCHBISHOP'S PRIVATE ROOM - DAY - 1780'S The Archbishop is sitting, chatting to quests. Among them are several ladies. Arco approaches him obsequiously. ARCO Your Grace. COLLOREDO Ah, Mozart. Why? MOZART Why what, sir? COLLOREDO Why do I have to be humiliated in front of my guests by one of my own servants? MOZART Humiliated? COLLOREDO How much provocation am I to endure from you? The more license I allow you, the more you take. The company watches this scene, deeply interested. MOZART If His Grace is not satisfied with me, he can dismiss me. COLLOREDO I wish you to return immediately to Salzburg. Your father is waiting for you there patiently. I will speak to you further when I come. MOZART No, Your Grace! I mean with all humility, no. I would rather you dismissed me. It's obvious I don't satisfy. COLLOREDO Then try harder, Mozart. I have no intention of dismissing you. You will remain in my service and learn your place. Go now. He extends his hand to be kissed. Mozart does it with a furious grace, then leaves the room. As he opens the door we see: INT. PALACE CORRIDOR - DAY - 1780'S A group of people who have attended the concert, among them Constanze, are standing outside the private apartment. At sight of the composer they break into sustained applause. Mozart is suddenly delighted. He throws the door wide open so that the guests can see into the private apartment where the Archbishop sits

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Amadeus Script at IMSDb. var _gaq = _gaq || []; _gaq.push(['_setAccount', 'UA-3785444-3']); _gaq.push(['_trackPageview']); (function() { var ga = document.createElement('script'); ga.type = 'text/javascript'; ga.async = true; ga.src = ('https:' == document.location.protocol ? 'https://ssl' : 'http://www') + '.google-analytics.com/ga.js'; var s = document.getElementsByTagName('script')[0]; s.parentNode.insertBefore(ga, s); })(); The Internet Movie Script Database (IMSDb) The web's largest movie script resource! Search IMSDb Alphabetical # A B C D E F G H I J K L M N O P Q R S T U V W X Y Z Genre Action Adventure Animation Comedy Crime Drama Family Fantasy Film-Noir Horror Musical Mystery Romance Sci-Fi Short Thriller War Western Sponsor TV Transcripts Futurama Seinfeld South Park Stargate SG-1 Lost The 4400 International French scripts Movie Software Rip from DVD Rip Blu-Ray Latest Comments Star Wars: Revenge of the Sith10/10 Star Wars: The Force Awakens10/10 Batman Begins9/10 Collateral10/10 Jackie Brown8/10 Movie Chat Message Yell ! ALL SCRIPTS if (window!= top) top.location.href=location.href // --> AMADEUS "AMADEUS" by Peter Shaffer Final Draft INT. STAIRCASE OUTSIDE OLD SALIERI'S SALON - NIGHT - 1823 Total darkness. We hear an old man's voice, distinct and in distress. It is OLD SALIERI. He uses a mixture of English and occasionally Italian. OLD SALIERI Mozart! Mozart! Mozart. Forgive me! Forgive your assassin! Mozart! A faint light illuminates the screen. Flickeringly, we see an eighteenth century balustrade and a flight of stone stairs. We are looking down into the wall of the staircase from the point of view of the landing. Up the stair is coming a branched candlestick held by Salieri's VALET. By his side is Salieri's COOK, bearing a large dish of sugared cakes and biscuits. Both men are desperately worried: the Valet is thin and middle-aged; the Cook, plump and Italian. It is very cold. They wear shawls over their night-dresses and clogs on their feet. They wheeze as they climb. The candles throw their shadows up onto the peeling walls of the house, which is evidently an old one and in bad decay. A cat scuttles swiftly between their bare legs, as they reach the salon door. The Valet tries the handle. It is locked. Behind it the voice goes on, rising in volume. OLD SALIERI Show some mercy! I beg you. I beg you! Show mercy to a guilty man! The Valet knocks gently on the door. The voice stops. VALET Open the door, Signore! Please! Be good now! We've brought you something special. Something you're going to love. Silence. VALET Signore Salieri! Open the door. Come now. Be good! The voice of Old Salieri continues again, further off now, and louder. We hear a noise as if a window is being opened. OLD SALIERI Mozart! Mozart! I confess it! Listen! I confess! The two servants look at each other in alarm. Then the Valet hands the candlestick to the Cook and takes a sugared cake from the dish, scrambling as quickly as he can back down the stairs. EXT. THE STREET OUTSIDE SALIERI'S HOUSE - VIENNA - NIGHT The street is filled with people: ten cabs with drivers, five children, fifteen adults, two doormen, fifteen dancing couples and a sled and three dogs. It is a windy night. Snow is falling and whirling about. People are passing on foot, holding their cloaks tightly around them. Some of them are revelers in fancy dress: they wear masks on their faces or hanging around their necks, as if returning from parties. Now they are glancing up at the facade of the old house. The window above the street is open and Old Salieri stands there calling to the sky: a sharp-featured, white-haired Italian over seventy years old, wearing a stained dressing gown. OLD SALIERI Mozart! Mozart! I cannot bear it any longer! I confess! I confess what I did! I'm guilty! I killed you! Sir I confess! I killed you! The door of the house bursts open. The Valet hobbles out, holding the sugared cake. The wind catches at his shawl. OLD SALIERI Mozart, perdonami! Forgive your assassin! Piet ! Piet ! Forgive your assassin! Forgive me! Forgive! Forgive! VALET (looking up to the window) That's all right, Signore! He heard you! He forgave you! He wants you to go inside now and shut the window! Old Salieri stares down at him. Some of the passersby have now stopped and are watching this spectacle. VALET Come on, Signore! Look what I have for you! I can't give it to you from down here, can I? Old Salieri looks at him in contempt. Then he turns away back into the room, shutting the window with a bang. Through the glass, the old man stares down at the group of onlookers in the street. They stare back at him in confusion. BYSTANDER Who is that? VALET No one, sir. He'll be all right. Poor man. He's a little unhappy, you know. He makes a sign indicating 'crazy,' and goes back inside the house. The onlookers keep staring. CUT TO: INT. LANDING OUTSIDE OLD SALIERI'S SALON - NIGHT The Cook is standing holding the candlestick in one hand, the dish of cakes in the other. The Valet arrives, panting. VALET Did he open? The Cook, scared, shakes his head: no. The Valet again knocks on the door. VALET Here I am, Signore. Now open the door. He eats the sugared cake in his hand, elaborately and noisily. VALET Mmmm - this is good! This is the most delicious thing I ever ate, believe me! Signore, you don't know what you're missing! Mmmm! We hear a thump from inside the bedroom. VALET Now that's enough, Signore! Open! We hear a terrible, throaty groaning. VALET If you don't open this door, we're going to eat everything. There'll be nothing left for you. And I'm not going to bring you anything more. He looks down. From under the door we see a trickle of blood flowing. In horror, the two men stare at it. The dish of cakes falls from the Cook's hand and shatters. He sets the candlestick down on the floor. Both servants run at the door frantically - once, twice, three times - and the frail lock gives. The door flies open. Immediately, the stormy, frenzied opening of Mozart's Symphony No. 25 (the Little G Minor) begins. We see what the servants see. INT. OLD SALIERI'S SALON - NIGHT Old Salieri lies on the floor in a pool of blood, an open razor in his hand. He has cut his throat but is still alive. He gestures at them. They run to him. Barely, we glimpse the room - an old chair, old tables piled with books, a forte- piano, a chamber-pot on the floor - as the Valet and the Cook struggle to lift their old Master, and bind his bleeding throat with a napkin. INT. BALLROOM - NIGHT Twenty-five dancing couples, fifty guests, ten servants, full orchestra. As the music slows a little, we see a Masquerade Ball in progress. A crowded room of dancers is executing the slow portion of a dance fashionable in the early 1820's. EXT. STREET OUTSIDE SALIERI'S HOUSE - NIGHT As the fast music returns, we see Old Salieri being carried out of his house on a stretcher by two attendants, and placed in a horse-drawn wagon under the supervision of a middle- aged doctor in a tall hat. This is DOCTOR GULDEN. He gets in beside his patient. The driver whips up the horse, and the wagon dashes off through the still-falling snow. MONTAGE: EXT. FOUR STREETS OF VIENNA AND INT. THE WAGON - NIGHT The wagon is galloping through the snowy streets of the city. Inside the conveyance we see Old Salieri wrapped in blankets, half-conscious, being held by the hospital attendants. Doctor Gulden stares at him grimly. The wagon arrives outside the General Hospital of Vienna. CUT TO: INT. A HOSPITAL CORRIDOR - LATE AFTERNOON A wide, white-washed corridor. Doctor Gulden is walking down it with a priest, a man of about forty, concerned, but somewhat self-important. This is Father VOGLER, Chaplain at the hospital. In the corridor as they walk, we note several patients -- some of them visibly disturbed mentally. All patients wear white linen smocks. Doctor Gulden wears a dark frock-coat; Vogler, a cassock. DOCTOR GULDEN He's going to live. It's much harder to cut your throat than most people imagine. They stop outside a door. DOCTOR GULDEN Here we are. Do you wish me to come in with you? VOGLER No, Doctor. Thank you. Vogler nods and opens the door. INT. OLD SALIERI'S HOSPITAL ROOM - LATE AFTERNOON A bare room - one of the best available in the General Hospital. It contains a bed, a table with candles, chairs, a small forte-piano of the early nineteenth century. As Vogler enters, Old Salieri is sitting in a wheel-chair, looking out the window. His back is to us. The priest closes the door quietly behind him. VOGLER Herr Salieri? Old Salieri turns around to look at him. We see that his throat is bandaged expertly. He wears hospital garb, and over it the Civilian Medal and Chain with which we will later see the EMPEROR invest him. OLD SALIERI What do you want? VOGLER I am Father Vogler. I am a Chaplain here. I thought you might like to talk to someone. OLD SALIERI About what? VOGLER You tried to take your life. You do remember that, don't you? OLD SALIERI So? VOGLER In the sight of God that is a sin. OLD SALIERI What do you want? VOGLER Do you understand that you have sinned? Gravely. OLD SALIERI Leave me alone. VOGLER I cannot leave alone a soul in pain. OLD SALIERI Do you know who I am? You never heard of me, did you? VOGLER That makes no difference. All men are equal in God's eyes. OLD SALIERI Are they? VOGLER Offer me your confession. I can offer you God's forgiveness. OLD SALIERI I do not seek forgiveness. VOGLER My son, there is something dreadful on your soul. Unburden it to me. I'm here only for you. Please talk to me. OLD SALIERI How well are you trained in music? VOGLER I know a little. I studied it in my youth. OLD SALIERI Where? VOGLER Here in Vienna. OLD SALIERI Then you must know this. He propels his wheelchair to the forte-piano, and plays an unrecognizable melody. VOGLER I can't say I do. What is it? OLD SALIERI I'm surprised you don't know. It was a very popular tune in its day. I wrote it. How about this? He plays another tune. OLD SALIERI This one brought down the house when we played it first. He plays it with growing enthusiasm. CUT TO: INT. THE STAGE OF AN OPERA HOUSE - NIGHT - 1780'S We see the pretty soprano KATHERINA CAVALIERI, now about twenty-four, dressed in an elaborate mythological Persian costume, singing on stage. She's near the end of a very florid aria by Salieri. The audience applauds wildly. INT. OLD SALIERI'S HOSPITAL ROOM - LATE AFTERNOON - 1823 OLD SALIERI (taking his hands off the keys) Well? VOGLER I regret it is not too familiar. OLD SALIERI Can you recall no melody of mine? I was the most famous composer in Europe when you were still a boy. I wrote forty operas alone. What about this little thing? Slyly he plays the opening measure of Mozart's Eine Kleine Nachtmusik. The priest nods, smiling suddenly, and hums a little with the music. VOGLER Oh, I know that! That's charming! I didn't know you wrote that. OLD SALIERI I didn't. That was Mozart. Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart. You know who that is? VOGLER Of course. The man you accuse yourself of killing. OLD SALIERI Ah - you've heard that? VOGLER All Vienna has heard that. OLD SALIERI ( eagerly) And do they believe it? VOGLER Is it true? OLD SALIERI Do you believe it? VOGLER Should I? A very long pause. Salieri stares above the priest, seemingly lost in his own private world. VOGLER For God's sake, my son, if you have anything to confess, do it now! Give yourself some peace! A further pause. VOGLER Do you hear me? OLD SALIERI He was murdered, Father! Mozart! Cruelly murdered. Pause. VOGLER (almost whispering) Yes? Did you do it? Suddenly Old Salieri turns to him, a look of extreme innocence. OLD SALIERI He was my idol! I can't remember a time when I didn't know his name! When I was only fourteen he was already famous. Even in Legnago - the tiniest town in Italy - I knew of him. CUT TO: EXT. A SMALL TOWN SQUARE IN LOMBARDY, ITALY - DAY - 1780'S There are twelve children and twenty adults in the square. We see the fourteen-year-old Salieri blindfolded, playing a game of Blindman's Bluff with other Italian children, running about in the bright sunshine and laughing. OLD SALIERI (V.O.) I was still playing childish games when he was playing music for kings and emperors. Even the Pope in Rome! CUT TO: INT. A SALON IN THE VATICAN - DAY - 1780'S We see the six-year-old MOZART, also blindfolded, seated in a gilded chair on a pile of books, playing the harpsichord for the POPE and a suite of CARDINALS and other churchmen. Beside the little boy stands LEOPOLD, his father, smirking with pride. OLD SALIERI (V.O.) I admit I was jealous when I heard the tales they told about him. Not of the brilliant little prodigy himself, but of his father, who had taught him everything. The piece finishes. Leopold lowers the lid of the harpsichord and lifts up his little son to stand on it. Mozart removes the blindfold to show a pale little face with staring eyes. Both father and son bow. A Papal Chamberlain presents Leopold with a gold snuff box whilst the cardinals decorously applaud. Over this scene Old Salieri speaks. OLD SALIERI (V.O.) My father did not care for music. He wanted me only to be a merchant, like himself. As anonymous as he was. When I told how I wished I could be like Mozart, he would say, Why? Do you want to be a trained monkey? Would you like me to drag you around Europe doing tricks like a circus freak? How could I tell him what music meant to me? CUT TO: EXT. A COUNTRY CHURCH IN NORTH ITALY - DAY - 1780'S Serene music of the Italian Baroque - Pergolesi's Stabat Mater - sung by a choir of boys with organ accompaniment. We see the outside of the 17th-century church sitting in the wide landscape of Lombardy: sunlit fields, a dusty, white road, poplar trees. INT. THE CHURCH AT LEGNAGO - DAY - 1780'S The music continues and swells. We see the twelve-year-old Salieri seated between his plump and placid parents in the congregation, listening in rapture. His father is a heavy- looking, self-approving man, obviously indifferent to the music. A large and austere Christ on the cross hangs over the altar. Candles burn below his image. OLD SALIERI (V.O.) Even then a spray of sounded notes could make me dizzy, almost to falling. The boy falls forward on his knees. So do his parents and the other members of the congregation. He stares up at Christ who stares back at him. OLD SALIERI (V.O.) Whilst my father prayed earnestly to God to protect commerce, I would offer up secretly the proudest prayer a boy could think of. Lord, make me a great composer! Let me celebrate your glory through music - and be celebrated myself! Make me famous through the world, dear God! Make me immortal! After I die let people speak my name forever with love for what I wrote! In return I vow I will give you my chastity - my industry, my deepest humility, every hour of my life. And I will help my fellow man all I can. Amen and amen! The music swells to a crescendo. The candles flare. We see the Christ through the flames looking at the boy benignly. OLD SALIERI (V.O.) And do you know what happened? A miracle! INT. DINING ROOM IN THE SALIERI HOUSE - DAY - 1780'S CU, a large cooked fish on a thick china plate. Camera pulls back to show the Salieri family at dinner. Father Salieri sits at the head of the table, a napkin tucked into his chin. Mother Salieri is serving the fish into portions and handing them round. Two maiden aunts are in attendance, wearing black, and of course the young boy. Father Salieri receives his plate of fish and starts to eat greedily. Suddenly there is a gasp - he starts to choke violently on a fish bone. All the women get up and crowd around him, thumping and pummeling him, but it is in vain. Father Salieri collapses. INT. OLD SALIERI'S HOSPITAL ROOM - LATE AFTERNOON - 1823 OLD SALIERI Suddenly he was dead. Just like that! And my life changed forever. My mother said, Go. Study music if you really want to. Off with you! And off I went as quick as I could and never saw Italy again. Of course, I knew God had arranged it all; that was obvious. One moment I was a frustrated boy in an obscure little town. The next I was here, in Vienna, city of musicians, sixteen years old and studying under Gluck! Gluck, Father. Do you know who he was? The greatest composer of his time. And he loved me! That was the wonder. He taught me everything he knew. And when I was ready, introduced me personally to the Emperor! Emperor Joseph - the musical king! Within a few years I was his court composer. Wasn't that incredible? Imperial Composer to His Majesty! Actually the man had no ear at all, but what did it matter? He adored my music, that was enough. Night after night I sat right next to the Emperor of Austria, playing duets with him, correcting the royal sight-reading. Tell me, if you had been me, wouldn't you have thought God had accepted your vow? And believe me, I honoured it. I was a model of virtue. I kept my hands off women, worked hours every day teaching students, many of them for free, sitting on endless committees to help poor musicians - work and work and work, that was all my life. And it was wonderful! Everybody liked me. I liked myself. I was the most successful musician in Vienna. And the happiest. Till he came. Mozart. CUT TO: INT. THE ARCHBISHOP OF SALZBURG'S RESIDENCE - VIENNA - DAY - 1780'S A grand room crowded with guests. A small group of Gypsy musicians is playing in the background. Thirteen members of the Archbishop's orchestra - all wind players, complete with 18th-century wind instruments: elaborate-looking bassoons, basset horns, etc. and wearing their employer's livery - are laying out music on stands at one end of the room. At the other end is a large gilded chair, bearing the arms of the ARCHBISHOP OF SALZBURG. A throng of people is standing, talking, and preparing to sit upon the rows of waiting chairs to hear a concert. OLD SALIERI (V.O.) One day he came to Vienna to play some of his music at the residence of his employer, the Prince-Archbishop of Salzburg. Eagerly I went there to seek him out. That night changed my life. We see Salieri, age thirty-one, a neat, carefully turned-cut man in decent black clothes and clean white linen, walking through the crowd of guests. We follow him. OLD SALIERI (V.O.) As I went through the salon, I played a game with myself. This man had written his first concerto at the age of four; his first symphony at seven; a full-scale opera at twelve. Did it show? Is talent like that written on the face? We see shots of assorted young men staring back at Salieri as he moves through the crowd. OLD SALIERI (V.O.) Which one of them could he be? Some of the men recognize Salieri and bow respectfully. Then suddenly a servant bearing a large tray of cakes and pastries stalks past. Instantly riveted by the sight of such delights, Salieri follows him out of the Grand Salon. INT. A PALACE CORRIDOR - DAY - 1780'S The servant marches along bearing his tray of pastries aloft. Salieri follows him. The servant turns into: INT. BUFFET ROOM IN THE PALACE - DAY - 1780'S Salieri's POV: several tables, dressed to the floor with cloths are loaded with many plates of confectionery. It is, in fact, Salieri's idea of paradise! The servant puts his tray down on one of the tables and withdraws from the room. INT. A PALACE CORRIDOR - DAY - 1780'S Salieri turns away so as not to be noticed by the servant. As soon as the man disappears, Salieri sneaks into the buffet room. INT. BUFFET ROOM IN THE PALACE - DAY - 1780'S Salieri enters the room and looks about him cautiously. He is salivating with anticipation as he stares at the feast of sweet things. His attention is attracted in particular by a huge pile of dark chocolate balls arranged in the shape of a pineapple. He reaches out a hand to steal one of the balls, but at the same moment he hears giggling coming toward him. He ducks down behind the pastry table. A girl - CONSTANZE - rushes into the room. She runs straight across it and hides herself behind one of the tables. After a beat of total silence, MOZART runs into the room, stops, and looks around. He is age twenty-six, wearing a fine wig and a brilliant coat with the insignia of the Archbishop of Salzburg upon it. He is puzzled; Constanze has disappeared. Baffled, he turns and is about to leave the room, when Constanze suddenly squeaks from under the cloth like a tiny mouse. Instantly Mozart drops to all fours and starts crawling across the floor, meowing and hissing like a naughty cat. Watched by an astonished Salieri, Mozart disappears under the cloth and obviously pounces upon Constanze. We hear a high-pitched giggle, which is going to characterize Mozart throughout the film. CUT TO: INT. PALACE GRAND SALON - DAY - 1780'S The throng is mostly seated. The musicians are in their places, holding their various exotic-looking wind instruments; the candles are all lit. A Majordomo appears and bangs his staff on the floor for attention. Immediately COLLOREDO, Prince-Archbishop of Salzburg enters. He is a small self- important figure of fifty in a wig, surmounted by a scarlet skullcap. He is followed by his Chamberlain, the Count ARCO. Everyone stands. The Archbishop goes to his throne and sits. His guests sit also. Arco gives the signal to start the music. Nothing happens. Instead, a wind musician gets up, approaches the Chamberlain and whispers in his ear. Arco in turn whispers to the Archbishop. ARCO Mozart is not here. COLLOREDO Where is he? ARCO They're looking for him, Your Grace. INT. A PALACE CORRIDOR - DAY - 1780'S Three servants are opening doors and looking into rooms going off the corridor. CUT TO: INT. PALACE GRAND SALON - DAY - 1780'S The guests are turning around and looking at the Archbishop. The musicians are watching. There is puzzlement and a murmur of comment. The Archbishop tightens his lip. COLLOREDO (to Arco) We'll start without him. INT. PALACE BUFFET ROOM - DAY - 1780'S Mozart is on his knees before the tablecloth, which reaches to the floor. Under it is Constanze. We hear her giggling as he talks. MOZART Miaouw! Miaouw! Mouse-wouse? It's Puss-wuss, fangs-wangs. Paws-claws. Pounce-bounce! He grabs her ankle. She screams. He pulls her out by her leg. CONSTANZE Stop it. Stop it! They roll on the floor. He tickles her. CONSTANZE Stop it! MOZART I am! I am! I'm stopping it - slowly. You see! Look, I've stopped. Now we are going back. He tries to drag her back under the table. CONSTANZE No! No! No! MOZART Yes! Back! Back! Listen - don't you know where you are? CONSTANZE Where? MOZART We are in the Residence of the Fartsbishop of Salzburg. CONSTANZE Fartsbishop! She laughs delightedly, then addresses an imaginary Archbishop. CONSTANZE Your Grace, I've got something to tell you. I want to complain about this man. MOZART Go ahead, tell him. Tell them all. They won't understand you anyway. CONSTANZE Why not? MOZART Because here everything goes backwards. People walk backwards, dance backwards, sing backwards, and talk backwards. CONSTANZE That's stupid. MOZART Why? People fart backwards. CONSTANZE Do you think that's funny? MOZART Yes, I think it's brilliant. You've been doing it for years. He gives a high pitched giggle. CONSTANZE Oh, ha, ha, ha. MOZART Sra-I'm-sick! Sra-I'm sick! CONSTANZE Yes, you are. You're very sick. MOZART No, no. Say it backwards, shit-wit. Sra-I'm-sick Say it backwards! CONSTANZE (working it out) Sra-I'm-sick. Sick - kiss I'm - my Kiss my! Sra-I'm-sick - Kiss my arse! MOZART Em iram! Em iram! CONSTANZE No, I'm not playing this game. MOZART No, this is serious. Say it backwards. CONSTANZE No! MOZART Just say it - you'll see. It's very serious. Em iram! Em iram! CONSTANZE Iram - marry Em - marry me! No, no! You're a fiend. I'm not going to marry a fiend. A dirty fiend at that. MOZART Ui-vol-i-tub! CONSTANZE Tub - but i-tub - but I vol - love but I love ui - You. I love you! The mood becomes suddenly softer. She kisses him. They embrace. Then he spoils it. MOZART Tish-I'm tee. What's that? CONSTANZE What? MOZART Tish-I'm-tee. CONSTANZE Eat MOZART Yes. CONSTANZE Eat my - ah! Shocked, she strikes at him. At the same moment the music starts in the salon next door. We hear the opening of the Serenade for Thirteen Wind Instruments, K. MOZART My music! They've started! They've started without me! He leaps up, disheveled and rumpled and runs out of the room. Salieri watches in amazement and disgust. CUT TO: INT. PALACE CORRIDOR - DAY - 1780'S The music is louder. Mozart hastens towards the Grand Salon away from the buffet room, adjusting his dress as he goes. INT. GRAND SALON - DAY - 1780'S The opening of the Serenade is being tentatively conducted by the leader of the wind-musicians. Guests turn around as Mozart appears - bowing to the Archbishop - and walks with an attempt at dignity to the dais where the wind band is playing. The leader yields his place to the composer and Mozart smoothly takes over conducting. Constanze, deeply embarrassed, sneaks into the room and seats herself at the back. INT. PALACE BUFFET ROOM - DAY - 1780'S The music fades down. Salieri stands shocked from his inadvertent eavesdropping. After a second he moves almost in a trance toward the door; the music dissolves. INT. GRAND SALON - DAY - 1780'S Mozart is conducting the Adagio from his Serenade (K. 361), guiding the thirteen wind instrumentalists. The squeezebox opening of the movement begins. Salieri appears at the door at the back of the salon. He stares in disbelief at Mozart. OLD SALIERI (V.O.) So that was he! That giggling, dirty- minded creature I'd just seen crawling on the floor. Mozart. The phenomenon whose legend had haunted my youth. Impossible. The music swells up and Salieri listens to it with eyes closed - amazed, transported - suddenly engulfed by the sound. Finally it fades down and away and changes into applause. Salieri opens his eyes. The audience is clearly delighted. Mozart bows to them, also delighted. Colloredo rises abruptly, and without looking at Mozart or applauding and leaves the Salon. Count Arco approaches the composer. Mozart turns to him, radiant. ARCO Follow me, please. The Archbishop would like a word. MOZART Certainly! He follows Arco out of the room, through a throng of admirers. INT. ANOTHER PALACE CORRIDOR - DAY - 1780'S Mozart and Arco walk side by side. They pass Salieri who is staring at Mozart in fascination. As they disappear, he steals toward the music stands, unable to help himself. MOZART Well, I think that went off remarkably well, don't you? ARCO Indeed. MOZART These Viennese certainly know good music when they hear it. ARCO His Grace is very angry with you. MOZART What do you mean? They arrive at the door of Colloredo's private apartment. ARCO You are to come in here and ask his pardon. Arco opens the door. INT. ARCHBISHOP'S PRIVATE ROOM - DAY - 1780'S The Archbishop is sitting, chatting to quests. Among them are several ladies. Arco approaches him obsequiously. ARCO Your Grace. COLLOREDO Ah, Mozart. Why? MOZART Why what, sir? COLLOREDO Why do I have to be humiliated in front of my guests by one of my own servants? MOZART Humiliated? COLLOREDO How much provocation am I to endure from you? The more license I allow you, the more you take. The company watches this scene, deeply interested. MOZART If His Grace is not satisfied with me, he can dismiss me. COLLOREDO I wish you to return immediately to Salzburg. Your father is waiting for you there patiently. I will speak to you further when I come. MOZART No, Your Grace! I mean with all humility, no. I would rather you dismissed me. It's obvious I don't satisfy. COLLOREDO Then try harder, Mozart. I have no intention of dismissing you. You will remain in my service and learn your place. Go now. He extends his hand to be kissed. Mozart does it with a furious grace, then leaves the room. As he opens the door we see: INT. PALACE CORRIDOR - DAY - 1780'S A group of people who have attended the concert, among them Constanze, are standing outside the private apartment. At sight of the composer they break into sustained applause. Mozart is suddenly delighted. He throws the door wide open so that the guests can see into the private apartment where the Archbishop sits

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Amadeus Script at IMSDb. var _gaq = _gaq || []; _gaq.push(['_setAccount', 'UA-3785444-3']); _gaq.push(['_trackPageview']); (function() { var ga = document.createElement('script'); ga.type = 'text/javascript'; ga.async = true; ga.src = ('https:' == document.location.protocol ? 'https://ssl' : 'http://www') + '.google-analytics.com/ga.js'; var s = document.getElementsByTagName('script')[0]; s.parentNode.insertBefore(ga, s); })(); The Internet Movie Script Database (IMSDb) The web's largest movie script resource! Search IMSDb Alphabetical # A B C D E F G H I J K L M N O P Q R S T U V W X Y Z Genre Action Adventure Animation Comedy Crime Drama Family Fantasy Film-Noir Horror Musical Mystery Romance Sci-Fi Short Thriller War Western Sponsor TV Transcripts Futurama Seinfeld South Park Stargate SG-1 Lost The 4400 International French scripts Movie Software Rip from DVD Rip Blu-Ray Latest Comments Star Wars: Revenge of the Sith10/10 Star Wars: The Force Awakens10/10 Batman Begins9/10 Collateral10/10 Jackie Brown8/10 Movie Chat Message Yell ! ALL SCRIPTS if (window!= top) top.location.href=location.href // --> AMADEUS "AMADEUS" by Peter Shaffer Final Draft INT. STAIRCASE OUTSIDE OLD SALIERI'S SALON - NIGHT - 1823 Total darkness. We hear an old man's voice, distinct and in distress. It is OLD SALIERI. He uses a mixture of English and occasionally Italian. OLD SALIERI Mozart! Mozart! Mozart. Forgive me! Forgive your assassin! Mozart! A faint light illuminates the screen. Flickeringly, we see an eighteenth century balustrade and a flight of stone stairs. We are looking down into the wall of the staircase from the point of view of the landing. Up the stair is coming a branched candlestick held by Salieri's VALET. By his side is Salieri's COOK, bearing a large dish of sugared cakes and biscuits. Both men are desperately worried: the Valet is thin and middle-aged; the Cook, plump and Italian. It is very cold. They wear shawls over their night-dresses and clogs on their feet. They wheeze as they climb. The candles throw their shadows up onto the peeling walls of the house, which is evidently an old one and in bad decay. A cat scuttles swiftly between their bare legs, as they reach the salon door. The Valet tries the handle. It is locked. Behind it the voice goes on, rising in volume. OLD SALIERI Show some mercy! I beg you. I beg you! Show mercy to a guilty man! The Valet knocks gently on the door. The voice stops. VALET Open the door, Signore! Please! Be good now! We've brought you something special. Something you're going to love. Silence. VALET Signore Salieri! Open the door. Come now. Be good! The voice of Old Salieri continues again, further off now, and louder. We hear a noise as if a window is being opened. OLD SALIERI Mozart! Mozart! I confess it! Listen! I confess! The two servants look at each other in alarm. Then the Valet hands the candlestick to the Cook and takes a sugared cake from the dish, scrambling as quickly as he can back down the stairs. EXT. THE STREET OUTSIDE SALIERI'S HOUSE - VIENNA - NIGHT The street is filled with people: ten cabs with drivers, five children, fifteen adults, two doormen, fifteen dancing couples and a sled and three dogs. It is a windy night. Snow is falling and whirling about. People are passing on foot, holding their cloaks tightly around them. Some of them are revelers in fancy dress: they wear masks on their faces or hanging around their necks, as if returning from parties. Now they are glancing up at the facade of the old house. The window above the street is open and Old Salieri stands there calling to the sky: a sharp-featured, white-haired Italian over seventy years old, wearing a stained dressing gown. OLD SALIERI Mozart! Mozart! I cannot bear it any longer! I confess! I confess what I did! I'm guilty! I killed you! Sir I confess! I killed you! The door of the house bursts open. The Valet hobbles out, holding the sugared cake. The wind catches at his shawl. OLD SALIERI Mozart, perdonami! Forgive your assassin! Piet ! Piet ! Forgive your assassin! Forgive me! Forgive! Forgive! VALET (looking up to the window) That's all right, Signore! He heard you! He forgave you! He wants you to go inside now and shut the window! Old Salieri stares down at him. Some of the passersby have now stopped and are watching this spectacle. VALET Come on, Signore! Look what I have for you! I can't give it to you from down here, can I? Old Salieri looks at him in contempt. Then he turns away back into the room, shutting the window with a bang. Through the glass, the old man stares down at the group of onlookers in the street. They stare back at him in confusion. BYSTANDER Who is that? VALET No one, sir. He'll be all right. Poor man. He's a little unhappy, you know. He makes a sign indicating 'crazy,' and goes back inside the house. The onlookers keep staring. CUT TO: INT. LANDING OUTSIDE OLD SALIERI'S SALON - NIGHT The Cook is standing holding the candlestick in one hand, the dish of cakes in the other. The Valet arrives, panting. VALET Did he open? The Cook, scared, shakes his head: no. The Valet again knocks on the door. VALET Here I am, Signore. Now open the door. He eats the sugared cake in his hand, elaborately and noisily. VALET Mmmm - this is good! This is the most delicious thing I ever ate, believe me! Signore, you don't know what you're missing! Mmmm! We hear a thump from inside the bedroom. VALET Now that's enough, Signore! Open! We hear a terrible, throaty groaning. VALET If you don't open this door, we're going to eat everything. There'll be nothing left for you. And I'm not going to bring you anything more. He looks down. From under the door we see a trickle of blood flowing. In horror, the two men stare at it. The dish of cakes falls from the Cook's hand and shatters. He sets the candlestick down on the floor. Both servants run at the door frantically - once, twice, three times - and the frail lock gives. The door flies open. Immediately, the stormy, frenzied opening of Mozart's Symphony No. 25 (the Little G Minor) begins. We see what the servants see. INT. OLD SALIERI'S SALON - NIGHT Old Salieri lies on the floor in a pool of blood, an open razor in his hand. He has cut his throat but is still alive. He gestures at them. They run to him. Barely, we glimpse the room - an old chair, old tables piled with books, a forte- piano, a chamber-pot on the floor - as the Valet and the Cook struggle to lift their old Master, and bind his bleeding throat with a napkin. INT. BALLROOM - NIGHT Twenty-five dancing couples, fifty guests, ten servants, full orchestra. As the music slows a little, we see a Masquerade Ball in progress. A crowded room of dancers is executing the slow portion of a dance fashionable in the early 1820's. EXT. STREET OUTSIDE SALIERI'S HOUSE - NIGHT As the fast music returns, we see Old Salieri being carried out of his house on a stretcher by two attendants, and placed in a horse-drawn wagon under the supervision of a middle- aged doctor in a tall hat. This is DOCTOR GULDEN. He gets in beside his patient. The driver whips up the horse, and the wagon dashes off through the still-falling snow. MONTAGE: EXT. FOUR STREETS OF VIENNA AND INT. THE WAGON - NIGHT The wagon is galloping through the snowy streets of the city. Inside the conveyance we see Old Salieri wrapped in blankets, half-conscious, being held by the hospital attendants. Doctor Gulden stares at him grimly. The wagon arrives outside the General Hospital of Vienna. CUT TO: INT. A HOSPITAL CORRIDOR - LATE AFTERNOON A wide, white-washed corridor. Doctor Gulden is walking down it with a priest, a man of about forty, concerned, but somewhat self-important. This is Father VOGLER, Chaplain at the hospital. In the corridor as they walk, we note several patients -- some of them visibly disturbed mentally. All patients wear white linen smocks. Doctor Gulden wears a dark frock-coat; Vogler, a cassock. DOCTOR GULDEN He's going to live. It's much harder to cut your throat than most people imagine. They stop outside a door. DOCTOR GULDEN Here we are. Do you wish me to come in with you? VOGLER No, Doctor. Thank you. Vogler nods and opens the door. INT. OLD SALIERI'S HOSPITAL ROOM - LATE AFTERNOON A bare room - one of the best available in the General Hospital. It contains a bed, a table with candles, chairs, a small forte-piano of the early nineteenth century. As Vogler enters, Old Salieri is sitting in a wheel-chair, looking out the window. His back is to us. The priest closes the door quietly behind him. VOGLER Herr Salieri? Old Salieri turns around to look at him. We see that his throat is bandaged expertly. He wears hospital garb, and over it the Civilian Medal and Chain with which we will later see the EMPEROR invest him. OLD SALIERI What do you want? VOGLER I am Father Vogler. I am a Chaplain here. I thought you might like to talk to someone. OLD SALIERI About what? VOGLER You tried to take your life. You do remember that, don't you? OLD SALIERI So? VOGLER In the sight of God that is a sin. OLD SALIERI What do you want? VOGLER Do you understand that you have sinned? Gravely. OLD SALIERI Leave me alone. VOGLER I cannot leave alone a soul in pain. OLD SALIERI Do you know who I am? You never heard of me, did you? VOGLER That makes no difference. All men are equal in God's eyes. OLD SALIERI Are they? VOGLER Offer me your confession. I can offer you God's forgiveness. OLD SALIERI I do not seek forgiveness. VOGLER My son, there is something dreadful on your soul. Unburden it to me. I'm here only for you. Please talk to me. OLD SALIERI How well are you trained in music? VOGLER I know a little. I studied it in my youth. OLD SALIERI Where? VOGLER Here in Vienna. OLD SALIERI Then you must know this. He propels his wheelchair to the forte-piano, and plays an unrecognizable melody. VOGLER I can't say I do. What is it? OLD SALIERI I'm surprised you don't know. It was a very popular tune in its day. I wrote it. How about this? He plays another tune. OLD SALIERI This one brought down the house when we played it first. He plays it with growing enthusiasm. CUT TO: INT. THE STAGE OF AN OPERA HOUSE - NIGHT - 1780'S We see the pretty soprano KATHERINA CAVALIERI, now about twenty-four, dressed in an elaborate mythological Persian costume, singing on stage. She's near the end of a very florid aria by Salieri. The audience applauds wildly. INT. OLD SALIERI'S HOSPITAL ROOM - LATE AFTERNOON - 1823 OLD SALIERI (taking his hands off the keys) Well? VOGLER I regret it is not too familiar. OLD SALIERI Can you recall no melody of mine? I was the most famous composer in Europe when you were still a boy. I wrote forty operas alone. What about this little thing? Slyly he plays the opening measure of Mozart's Eine Kleine Nachtmusik. The priest nods, smiling suddenly, and hums a little with the music. VOGLER Oh, I know that! That's charming! I didn't know you wrote that. OLD SALIERI I didn't. That was Mozart. Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart. You know who that is? VOGLER Of course. The man you accuse yourself of killing. OLD SALIERI Ah - you've heard that? VOGLER All Vienna has heard that. OLD SALIERI ( eagerly) And do they believe it? VOGLER Is it true? OLD SALIERI Do you believe it? VOGLER Should I? A very long pause. Salieri stares above the priest, seemingly lost in his own private world. VOGLER For God's sake, my son, if you have anything to confess, do it now! Give yourself some peace! A further pause. VOGLER Do you hear me? OLD SALIERI He was murdered, Father! Mozart! Cruelly murdered. Pause. VOGLER (almost whispering) Yes? Did you do it? Suddenly Old Salieri turns to him, a look of extreme innocence. OLD SALIERI He was my idol! I can't remember a time when I didn't know his name! When I was only fourteen he was already famous. Even in Legnago - the tiniest town in Italy - I knew of him. CUT TO: EXT. A SMALL TOWN SQUARE IN LOMBARDY, ITALY - DAY - 1780'S There are twelve children and twenty adults in the square. We see the fourteen-year-old Salieri blindfolded, playing a game of Blindman's Bluff with other Italian children, running about in the bright sunshine and laughing. OLD SALIERI (V.O.) I was still playing childish games when he was playing music for kings and emperors. Even the Pope in Rome! CUT TO: INT. A SALON IN THE VATICAN - DAY - 1780'S We see the six-year-old MOZART, also blindfolded, seated in a gilded chair on a pile of books, playing the harpsichord for the POPE and a suite of CARDINALS and other churchmen. Beside the little boy stands LEOPOLD, his father, smirking with pride. OLD SALIERI (V.O.) I admit I was jealous when I heard the tales they told about him. Not of the brilliant little prodigy himself, but of his father, who had taught him everything. The piece finishes. Leopold lowers the lid of the harpsichord and lifts up his little son to stand on it. Mozart removes the blindfold to show a pale little face with staring eyes. Both father and son bow. A Papal Chamberlain presents Leopold with a gold snuff box whilst the cardinals decorously applaud. Over this scene Old Salieri speaks. OLD SALIERI (V.O.) My father did not care for music. He wanted me only to be a merchant, like himself. As anonymous as he was. When I told how I wished I could be like Mozart, he would say, Why? Do you want to be a trained monkey? Would you like me to drag you around Europe doing tricks like a circus freak? How could I tell him what music meant to me? CUT TO: EXT. A COUNTRY CHURCH IN NORTH ITALY - DAY - 1780'S Serene music of the Italian Baroque - Pergolesi's Stabat Mater - sung by a choir of boys with organ accompaniment. We see the outside of the 17th-century church sitting in the wide landscape of Lombardy: sunlit fields, a dusty, white road, poplar trees. INT. THE CHURCH AT LEGNAGO - DAY - 1780'S The music continues and swells. We see the twelve-year-old Salieri seated between his plump and placid parents in the congregation, listening in rapture. His father is a heavy- looking, self-approving man, obviously indifferent to the music. A large and austere Christ on the cross hangs over the altar. Candles burn below his image. OLD SALIERI (V.O.) Even then a spray of sounded notes could make me dizzy, almost to falling. The boy falls forward on his knees. So do his parents and the other members of the congregation. He stares up at Christ who stares back at him. OLD SALIERI (V.O.) Whilst my father prayed earnestly to God to protect commerce, I would offer up secretly the proudest prayer a boy could think of. Lord, make me a great composer! Let me celebrate your glory through music - and be celebrated myself! Make me famous through the world, dear God! Make me immortal! After I die let people speak my name forever with love for what I wrote! In return I vow I will give you my chastity - my industry, my deepest humility, every hour of my life. And I will help my fellow man all I can. Amen and amen! The music swells to a crescendo. The candles flare. We see the Christ through the flames looking at the boy benignly. OLD SALIERI (V.O.) And do you know what happened? A miracle! INT. DINING ROOM IN THE SALIERI HOUSE - DAY - 1780'S CU, a large cooked fish on a thick china plate. Camera pulls back to show the Salieri family at dinner. Father Salieri sits at the head of the table, a napkin tucked into his chin. Mother Salieri is serving the fish into portions and handing them round. Two maiden aunts are in attendance, wearing black, and of course the young boy. Father Salieri receives his plate of fish and starts to eat greedily. Suddenly there is a gasp - he starts to choke violently on a fish bone. All the women get up and crowd around him, thumping and pummeling him, but it is in vain. Father Salieri collapses. INT. OLD SALIERI'S HOSPITAL ROOM - LATE AFTERNOON - 1823 OLD SALIERI Suddenly he was dead. Just like that! And my life changed forever. My mother said, Go. Study music if you really want to. Off with you! And off I went as quick as I could and never saw Italy again. Of course, I knew God had arranged it all; that was obvious. One moment I was a frustrated boy in an obscure little town. The next I was here, in Vienna, city of musicians, sixteen years old and studying under Gluck! Gluck, Father. Do you know who he was? The greatest composer of his time. And he loved me! That was the wonder. He taught me everything he knew. And when I was ready, introduced me personally to the Emperor! Emperor Joseph - the musical king! Within a few years I was his court composer. Wasn't that incredible? Imperial Composer to His Majesty! Actually the man had no ear at all, but what did it matter? He adored my music, that was enough. Night after night I sat right next to the Emperor of Austria, playing duets with him, correcting the royal sight-reading. Tell me, if you had been me, wouldn't you have thought God had accepted your vow? And believe me, I honoured it. I was a model of virtue. I kept my hands off women, worked hours every day teaching students, many of them for free, sitting on endless committees to help poor musicians - work and work and work, that was all my life. And it was wonderful! Everybody liked me. I liked myself. I was the most successful musician in Vienna. And the happiest. Till he came. Mozart. CUT TO: INT. THE ARCHBISHOP OF SALZBURG'S RESIDENCE - VIENNA - DAY - 1780'S A grand room crowded with guests. A small group of Gypsy musicians is playing in the background. Thirteen members of the Archbishop's orchestra - all wind players, complete with 18th-century wind instruments: elaborate-looking bassoons, basset horns, etc. and wearing their employer's livery - are laying out music on stands at one end of the room. At the other end is a large gilded chair, bearing the arms of the ARCHBISHOP OF SALZBURG. A throng of people is standing, talking, and preparing to sit upon the rows of waiting chairs to hear a concert. OLD SALIERI (V.O.) One day he came to Vienna to play some of his music at the residence of his employer, the Prince-Archbishop of Salzburg. Eagerly I went there to seek him out. That night changed my life. We see Salieri, age thirty-one, a neat, carefully turned-cut man in decent black clothes and clean white linen, walking through the crowd of guests. We follow him. OLD SALIERI (V.O.) As I went through the salon, I played a game with myself. This man had written his first concerto at the age of four; his first symphony at seven; a full-scale opera at twelve. Did it show? Is talent like that written on the face? We see shots of assorted young men staring back at Salieri as he moves through the crowd. OLD SALIERI (V.O.) Which one of them could he be? Some of the men recognize Salieri and bow respectfully. Then suddenly a servant bearing a large tray of cakes and pastries stalks past. Instantly riveted by the sight of such delights, Salieri follows him out of the Grand Salon. INT. A PALACE CORRIDOR - DAY - 1780'S The servant marches along bearing his tray of pastries aloft. Salieri follows him. The servant turns into: INT. BUFFET ROOM IN THE PALACE - DAY - 1780'S Salieri's POV: several tables, dressed to the floor with cloths are loaded with many plates of confectionery. It is, in fact, Salieri's idea of paradise! The servant puts his tray down on one of the tables and withdraws from the room. INT. A PALACE CORRIDOR - DAY - 1780'S Salieri turns away so as not to be noticed by the servant. As soon as the man disappears, Salieri sneaks into the buffet room. INT. BUFFET ROOM IN THE PALACE - DAY - 1780'S Salieri enters the room and looks about him cautiously. He is salivating with anticipation as he stares at the feast of sweet things. His attention is attracted in particular by a huge pile of dark chocolate balls arranged in the shape of a pineapple. He reaches out a hand to steal one of the balls, but at the same moment he hears giggling coming toward him. He ducks down behind the pastry table. A girl - CONSTANZE - rushes into the room. She runs straight across it and hides herself behind one of the tables. After a beat of total silence, MOZART runs into the room, stops, and looks around. He is age twenty-six, wearing a fine wig and a brilliant coat with the insignia of the Archbishop of Salzburg upon it. He is puzzled; Constanze has disappeared. Baffled, he turns and is about to leave the room, when Constanze suddenly squeaks from under the cloth like a tiny mouse. Instantly Mozart drops to all fours and starts crawling across the floor, meowing and hissing like a naughty cat. Watched by an astonished Salieri, Mozart disappears under the cloth and obviously pounces upon Constanze. We hear a high-pitched giggle, which is going to characterize Mozart throughout the film. CUT TO: INT. PALACE GRAND SALON - DAY - 1780'S The throng is mostly seated. The musicians are in their places, holding their various exotic-looking wind instruments; the candles are all lit. A Majordomo appears and bangs his staff on the floor for attention. Immediately COLLOREDO, Prince-Archbishop of Salzburg enters. He is a small self- important figure of fifty in a wig, surmounted by a scarlet skullcap. He is followed by his Chamberlain, the Count ARCO. Everyone stands. The Archbishop goes to his throne and sits. His guests sit also. Arco gives the signal to start the music. Nothing happens. Instead, a wind musician gets up, approaches the Chamberlain and whispers in his ear. Arco in turn whispers to the Archbishop. ARCO Mozart is not here. COLLOREDO Where is he? ARCO They're looking for him, Your Grace. INT. A PALACE CORRIDOR - DAY - 1780'S Three servants are opening doors and looking into rooms going off the corridor. CUT TO: INT. PALACE GRAND SALON - DAY - 1780'S The guests are turning around and looking at the Archbishop. The musicians are watching. There is puzzlement and a murmur of comment. The Archbishop tightens his lip. COLLOREDO (to Arco) We'll start without him. INT. PALACE BUFFET ROOM - DAY - 1780'S Mozart is on his knees before the tablecloth, which reaches to the floor. Under it is Constanze. We hear her giggling as he talks. MOZART Miaouw! Miaouw! Mouse-wouse? It's Puss-wuss, fangs-wangs. Paws-claws. Pounce-bounce! He grabs her ankle. She screams. He pulls her out by her leg. CONSTANZE Stop it. Stop it! They roll on the floor. He tickles her. CONSTANZE Stop it! MOZART I am! I am! I'm stopping it - slowly. You see! Look, I've stopped. Now we are going back. He tries to drag her back under the table. CONSTANZE No! No! No! MOZART Yes! Back! Back! Listen - don't you know where you are? CONSTANZE Where? MOZART We are in the Residence of the Fartsbishop of Salzburg. CONSTANZE Fartsbishop! She laughs delightedly, then addresses an imaginary Archbishop. CONSTANZE Your Grace, I've got something to tell you. I want to complain about this man. MOZART Go ahead, tell him. Tell them all. They won't understand you anyway. CONSTANZE Why not? MOZART Because here everything goes backwards. People walk backwards, dance backwards, sing backwards, and talk backwards. CONSTANZE That's stupid. MOZART Why? People fart backwards. CONSTANZE Do you think that's funny? MOZART Yes, I think it's brilliant. You've been doing it for years. He gives a high pitched giggle. CONSTANZE Oh, ha, ha, ha. MOZART Sra-I'm-sick! Sra-I'm sick! CONSTANZE Yes, you are. You're very sick. MOZART No, no. Say it backwards, shit-wit. Sra-I'm-sick Say it backwards! CONSTANZE (working it out) Sra-I'm-sick. Sick - kiss I'm - my Kiss my! Sra-I'm-sick - Kiss my arse! MOZART Em iram! Em iram! CONSTANZE No, I'm not playing this game. MOZART No, this is serious. Say it backwards. CONSTANZE No! MOZART Just say it - you'll see. It's very serious. Em iram! Em iram! CONSTANZE Iram - marry Em - marry me! No, no! You're a fiend. I'm not going to marry a fiend. A dirty fiend at that. MOZART Ui-vol-i-tub! CONSTANZE Tub - but i-tub - but I vol - love but I love ui - You. I love you! The mood becomes suddenly softer. She kisses him. They embrace. Then he spoils it. MOZART Tish-I'm tee. What's that? CONSTANZE What? MOZART Tish-I'm-tee. CONSTANZE Eat MOZART Yes. CONSTANZE Eat my - ah! Shocked, she strikes at him. At the same moment the music starts in the salon next door. We hear the opening of the Serenade for Thirteen Wind Instruments, K. MOZART My music! They've started! They've started without me! He leaps up, disheveled and rumpled and runs out of the room. Salieri watches in amazement and disgust. CUT TO: INT. PALACE CORRIDOR - DAY - 1780'S The music is louder. Mozart hastens towards the Grand Salon away from the buffet room, adjusting his dress as he goes. INT. GRAND SALON - DAY - 1780'S The opening of the Serenade is being tentatively conducted by the leader of the wind-musicians. Guests turn around as Mozart appears - bowing to the Archbishop - and walks with an attempt at dignity to the dais where the wind band is playing. The leader yields his place to the composer and Mozart smoothly takes over conducting. Constanze, deeply embarrassed, sneaks into the room and seats herself at the back. INT. PALACE BUFFET ROOM - DAY - 1780'S The music fades down. Salieri stands shocked from his inadvertent eavesdropping. After a second he moves almost in a trance toward the door; the music dissolves. INT. GRAND SALON - DAY - 1780'S Mozart is conducting the Adagio from his Serenade (K. 361), guiding the thirteen wind instrumentalists. The squeezebox opening of the movement begins. Salieri appears at the door at the back of the salon. He stares in disbelief at Mozart. OLD SALIERI (V.O.) So that was he! That giggling, dirty- minded creature I'd just seen crawling on the floor. Mozart. The phenomenon whose legend had haunted my youth. Impossible. The music swells up and Salieri listens to it with eyes closed - amazed, transported - suddenly engulfed by the sound. Finally it fades down and away and changes into applause. Salieri opens his eyes. The audience is clearly delighted. Mozart bows to them, also delighted. Colloredo rises abruptly, and without looking at Mozart or applauding and leaves the Salon. Count Arco approaches the composer. Mozart turns to him, radiant. ARCO Follow me, please. The Archbishop would like a word. MOZART Certainly! He follows Arco out of the room, through a throng of admirers. INT. ANOTHER PALACE CORRIDOR - DAY - 1780'S Mozart and Arco walk side by side. They pass Salieri who is staring at Mozart in fascination. As they disappear, he steals toward the music stands, unable to help himself. MOZART Well, I think that went off remarkably well, don't you? ARCO Indeed. MOZART These Viennese certainly know good music when they hear it. ARCO His Grace is very angry with you. MOZART What do you mean? They arrive at the door of Colloredo's private apartment. ARCO You are to come in here and ask his pardon. Arco opens the door. INT. ARCHBISHOP'S PRIVATE ROOM - DAY - 1780'S The Archbishop is sitting, chatting to quests. Among them are several ladies. Arco approaches him obsequiously. ARCO Your Grace. COLLOREDO Ah, Mozart. Why? MOZART Why what, sir? COLLOREDO Why do I have to be humiliated in front of my guests by one of my own servants? MOZART Humiliated? COLLOREDO How much provocation am I to endure from you? The more license I allow you, the more you take. The company watches this scene, deeply interested. MOZART If His Grace is not satisfied with me, he can dismiss me. COLLOREDO I wish you to return immediately to Salzburg. Your father is waiting for you there patiently. I will speak to you further when I come. MOZART No, Your Grace! I mean with all humility, no. I would rather you dismissed me. It's obvious I don't satisfy. COLLOREDO Then try harder, Mozart. I have no intention of dismissing you. You will remain in my service and learn your place. Go now. He extends his hand to be kissed. Mozart does it with a furious grace, then leaves the room. As he opens the door we see: INT. PALACE CORRIDOR - DAY - 1780'S A group of people who have attended the concert, among them Constanze, are standing outside the private apartment. At sight of the composer they break into sustained applause. Mozart is suddenly delighted. He throws the door wide open so that the guests can see into the private apartment where the Archbishop sits

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Amadeus Script at IMSDb. var _gaq = _gaq || []; _gaq.push(['_setAccount', 'UA-3785444-3']); _gaq.push(['_trackPageview']); (function() { var ga = document.createElement('script'); ga.type = 'text/javascript'; ga.async = true; ga.src = ('https:' == document.location.protocol ? 'https://ssl' : 'http://www') + '.google-analytics.com/ga.js'; var s = document.getElementsByTagName('script')[0]; s.parentNode.insertBefore(ga, s); })(); The Internet Movie Script Database (IMSDb) The web's largest movie script resource! Search IMSDb Alphabetical # A B C D E F G H I J K L M N O P Q R S T U V W X Y Z Genre Action Adventure Animation Comedy Crime Drama Family Fantasy Film-Noir Horror Musical Mystery Romance Sci-Fi Short Thriller War Western Sponsor TV Transcripts Futurama Seinfeld South Park Stargate SG-1 Lost The 4400 International French scripts Movie Software Rip from DVD Rip Blu-Ray Latest Comments Star Wars: Revenge of the Sith10/10 Star Wars: The Force Awakens10/10 Batman Begins9/10 Collateral10/10 Jackie Brown8/10 Movie Chat Message Yell ! ALL SCRIPTS if (window!= top) top.location.href=location.href // --> AMADEUS "AMADEUS" by Peter Shaffer Final Draft INT. STAIRCASE OUTSIDE OLD SALIERI'S SALON - NIGHT - 1823 Total darkness. We hear an old man's voice, distinct and in distress. It is OLD SALIERI. He uses a mixture of English and occasionally Italian. OLD SALIERI Mozart! Mozart! Mozart. Forgive me! Forgive your assassin! Mozart! A faint light illuminates the screen. Flickeringly, we see an eighteenth century balustrade and a flight of stone stairs. We are looking down into the wall of the staircase from the point of view of the landing. Up the stair is coming a branched candlestick held by Salieri's VALET. By his side is Salieri's COOK, bearing a large dish of sugared cakes and biscuits. Both men are desperately worried: the Valet is thin and middle-aged; the Cook, plump and Italian. It is very cold. They wear shawls over their night-dresses and clogs on their feet. They wheeze as they climb. The candles throw their shadows up onto the peeling walls of the house, which is evidently an old one and in bad decay. A cat scuttles swiftly between their bare legs, as they reach the salon door. The Valet tries the handle. It is locked. Behind it the voice goes on, rising in volume. OLD SALIERI Show some mercy! I beg you. I beg you! Show mercy to a guilty man! The Valet knocks gently on the door. The voice stops. VALET Open the door, Signore! Please! Be good now! We've brought you something special. Something you're going to love. Silence. VALET Signore Salieri! Open the door. Come now. Be good! The voice of Old Salieri continues again, further off now, and louder. We hear a noise as if a window is being opened. OLD SALIERI Mozart! Mozart! I confess it! Listen! I confess! The two servants look at each other in alarm. Then the Valet hands the candlestick to the Cook and takes a sugared cake from the dish, scrambling as quickly as he can back down the stairs. EXT. THE STREET OUTSIDE SALIERI'S HOUSE - VIENNA - NIGHT The street is filled with people: ten cabs with drivers, five children, fifteen adults, two doormen, fifteen dancing couples and a sled and three dogs. It is a windy night. Snow is falling and whirling about. People are passing on foot, holding their cloaks tightly around them. Some of them are revelers in fancy dress: they wear masks on their faces or hanging around their necks, as if returning from parties. Now they are glancing up at the facade of the old house. The window above the street is open and Old Salieri stands there calling to the sky: a sharp-featured, white-haired Italian over seventy years old, wearing a stained dressing gown. OLD SALIERI Mozart! Mozart! I cannot bear it any longer! I confess! I confess what I did! I'm guilty! I killed you! Sir I confess! I killed you! The door of the house bursts open. The Valet hobbles out, holding the sugared cake. The wind catches at his shawl. OLD SALIERI Mozart, perdonami! Forgive your assassin! Piet ! Piet ! Forgive your assassin! Forgive me! Forgive! Forgive! VALET (looking up to the window) That's all right, Signore! He heard you! He forgave you! He wants you to go inside now and shut the window! Old Salieri stares down at him. Some of the passersby have now stopped and are watching this spectacle. VALET Come on, Signore! Look what I have for you! I can't give it to you from down here, can I? Old Salieri looks at him in contempt. Then he turns away back into the room, shutting the window with a bang. Through the glass, the old man stares down at the group of onlookers in the street. They stare back at him in confusion. BYSTANDER Who is that? VALET No one, sir. He'll be all right. Poor man. He's a little unhappy, you know. He makes a sign indicating 'crazy,' and goes back inside the house. The onlookers keep staring. CUT TO: INT. LANDING OUTSIDE OLD SALIERI'S SALON - NIGHT The Cook is standing holding the candlestick in one hand, the dish of cakes in the other. The Valet arrives, panting. VALET Did he open? The Cook, scared, shakes his head: no. The Valet again knocks on the door. VALET Here I am, Signore. Now open the door. He eats the sugared cake in his hand, elaborately and noisily. VALET Mmmm - this is good! This is the most delicious thing I ever ate, believe me! Signore, you don't know what you're missing! Mmmm! We hear a thump from inside the bedroom. VALET Now that's enough, Signore! Open! We hear a terrible, throaty groaning. VALET If you don't open this door, we're going to eat everything. There'll be nothing left for you. And I'm not going to bring you anything more. He looks down. From under the door we see a trickle of blood flowing. In horror, the two men stare at it. The dish of cakes falls from the Cook's hand and shatters. He sets the candlestick down on the floor. Both servants run at the door frantically - once, twice, three times - and the frail lock gives. The door flies open. Immediately, the stormy, frenzied opening of Mozart's Symphony No. 25 (the Little G Minor) begins. We see what the servants see. INT. OLD SALIERI'S SALON - NIGHT Old Salieri lies on the floor in a pool of blood, an open razor in his hand. He has cut his throat but is still alive. He gestures at them. They run to him. Barely, we glimpse the room - an old chair, old tables piled with books, a forte- piano, a chamber-pot on the floor - as the Valet and the Cook struggle to lift their old Master, and bind his bleeding throat with a napkin. INT. BALLROOM - NIGHT Twenty-five dancing couples, fifty guests, ten servants, full orchestra. As the music slows a little, we see a Masquerade Ball in progress. A crowded room of dancers is executing the slow portion of a dance fashionable in the early 1820's. EXT. STREET OUTSIDE SALIERI'S HOUSE - NIGHT As the fast music returns, we see Old Salieri being carried out of his house on a stretcher by two attendants, and placed in a horse-drawn wagon under the supervision of a middle- aged doctor in a tall hat. This is DOCTOR GULDEN. He gets in beside his patient. The driver whips up the horse, and the wagon dashes off through the still-falling snow. MONTAGE: EXT. FOUR STREETS OF VIENNA AND INT. THE WAGON - NIGHT The wagon is galloping through the snowy streets of the city. Inside the conveyance we see Old Salieri wrapped in blankets, half-conscious, being held by the hospital attendants. Doctor Gulden stares at him grimly. The wagon arrives outside the General Hospital of Vienna. CUT TO: INT. A HOSPITAL CORRIDOR - LATE AFTERNOON A wide, white-washed corridor. Doctor Gulden is walking down it with a priest, a man of about forty, concerned, but somewhat self-important. This is Father VOGLER, Chaplain at the hospital. In the corridor as they walk, we note several patients -- some of them visibly disturbed mentally. All patients wear white linen smocks. Doctor Gulden wears a dark frock-coat; Vogler, a cassock. DOCTOR GULDEN He's going to live. It's much harder to cut your throat than most people imagine. They stop outside a door. DOCTOR GULDEN Here we are. Do you wish me to come in with you? VOGLER No, Doctor. Thank you. Vogler nods and opens the door. INT. OLD SALIERI'S HOSPITAL ROOM - LATE AFTERNOON A bare room - one of the best available in the General Hospital. It contains a bed, a table with candles, chairs, a small forte-piano of the early nineteenth century. As Vogler enters, Old Salieri is sitting in a wheel-chair, looking out the window. His back is to us. The priest closes the door quietly behind him. VOGLER Herr Salieri? Old Salieri turns around to look at him. We see that his throat is bandaged expertly. He wears hospital garb, and over it the Civilian Medal and Chain with which we will later see the EMPEROR invest him. OLD SALIERI What do you want? VOGLER I am Father Vogler. I am a Chaplain here. I thought you might like to talk to someone. OLD SALIERI About what? VOGLER You tried to take your life. You do remember that, don't you? OLD SALIERI So? VOGLER In the sight of God that is a sin. OLD SALIERI What do you want? VOGLER Do you understand that you have sinned? Gravely. OLD SALIERI Leave me alone. VOGLER I cannot leave alone a soul in pain. OLD SALIERI Do you know who I am? You never heard of me, did you? VOGLER That makes no difference. All men are equal in God's eyes. OLD SALIERI Are they? VOGLER Offer me your confession. I can offer you God's forgiveness. OLD SALIERI I do not seek forgiveness. VOGLER My son, there is something dreadful on your soul. Unburden it to me. I'm here only for you. Please talk to me. OLD SALIERI How well are you trained in music? VOGLER I know a little. I studied it in my youth. OLD SALIERI Where? VOGLER Here in Vienna. OLD SALIERI Then you must know this. He propels his wheelchair to the forte-piano, and plays an unrecognizable melody. VOGLER I can't say I do. What is it? OLD SALIERI I'm surprised you don't know. It was a very popular tune in its day. I wrote it. How about this? He plays another tune. OLD SALIERI This one brought down the house when we played it first. He plays it with growing enthusiasm. CUT TO: INT. THE STAGE OF AN OPERA HOUSE - NIGHT - 1780'S We see the pretty soprano KATHERINA CAVALIERI, now about twenty-four, dressed in an elaborate mythological Persian costume, singing on stage. She's near the end of a very florid aria by Salieri. The audience applauds wildly. INT. OLD SALIERI'S HOSPITAL ROOM - LATE AFTERNOON - 1823 OLD SALIERI (taking his hands off the keys) Well? VOGLER I regret it is not too familiar. OLD SALIERI Can you recall no melody of mine? I was the most famous composer in Europe when you were still a boy. I wrote forty operas alone. What about this little thing? Slyly he plays the opening measure of Mozart's Eine Kleine Nachtmusik. The priest nods, smiling suddenly, and hums a little with the music. VOGLER Oh, I know that! That's charming! I didn't know you wrote that. OLD SALIERI I didn't. That was Mozart. Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart. You know who that is? VOGLER Of course. The man you accuse yourself of killing. OLD SALIERI Ah - you've heard that? VOGLER All Vienna has heard that. OLD SALIERI ( eagerly) And do they believe it? VOGLER Is it true? OLD SALIERI Do you believe it? VOGLER Should I? A very long pause. Salieri stares above the priest, seemingly lost in his own private world. VOGLER For God's sake, my son, if you have anything to confess, do it now! Give yourself some peace! A further pause. VOGLER Do you hear me? OLD SALIERI He was murdered, Father! Mozart! Cruelly murdered. Pause. VOGLER (almost whispering) Yes? Did you do it? Suddenly Old Salieri turns to him, a look of extreme innocence. OLD SALIERI He was my idol! I can't remember a time when I didn't know his name! When I was only fourteen he was already famous. Even in Legnago - the tiniest town in Italy - I knew of him. CUT TO: EXT. A SMALL TOWN SQUARE IN LOMBARDY, ITALY - DAY - 1780'S There are twelve children and twenty adults in the square. We see the fourteen-year-old Salieri blindfolded, playing a game of Blindman's Bluff with other Italian children, running about in the bright sunshine and laughing. OLD SALIERI (V.O.) I was still playing childish games when he was playing music for kings and emperors. Even the Pope in Rome! CUT TO: INT. A SALON IN THE VATICAN - DAY - 1780'S We see the six-year-old MOZART, also blindfolded, seated in a gilded chair on a pile of books, playing the harpsichord for the POPE and a suite of CARDINALS and other churchmen. Beside the little boy stands LEOPOLD, his father, smirking with pride. OLD SALIERI (V.O.) I admit I was jealous when I heard the tales they told about him. Not of the brilliant little prodigy himself, but of his father, who had taught him everything. The piece finishes. Leopold lowers the lid of the harpsichord and lifts up his little son to stand on it. Mozart removes the blindfold to show a pale little face with staring eyes. Both father and son bow. A Papal Chamberlain presents Leopold with a gold snuff box whilst the cardinals decorously applaud. Over this scene Old Salieri speaks. OLD SALIERI (V.O.) My father did not care for music. He wanted me only to be a merchant, like himself. As anonymous as he was. When I told how I wished I could be like Mozart, he would say, Why? Do you want to be a trained monkey? Would you like me to drag you around Europe doing tricks like a circus freak? How could I tell him what music meant to me? CUT TO: EXT. A COUNTRY CHURCH IN NORTH ITALY - DAY - 1780'S Serene music of the Italian Baroque - Pergolesi's Stabat Mater - sung by a choir of boys with organ accompaniment. We see the outside of the 17th-century church sitting in the wide landscape of Lombardy: sunlit fields, a dusty, white road, poplar trees. INT. THE CHURCH AT LEGNAGO - DAY - 1780'S The music continues and swells. We see the twelve-year-old Salieri seated between his plump and placid parents in the congregation, listening in rapture. His father is a heavy- looking, self-approving man, obviously indifferent to the music. A large and austere Christ on the cross hangs over the altar. Candles burn below his image. OLD SALIERI (V.O.) Even then a spray of sounded notes could make me dizzy, almost to falling. The boy falls forward on his knees. So do his parents and the other members of the congregation. He stares up at Christ who stares back at him. OLD SALIERI (V.O.) Whilst my father prayed earnestly to God to protect commerce, I would offer up secretly the proudest prayer a boy could think of. Lord, make me a great composer! Let me celebrate your glory through music - and be celebrated myself! Make me famous through the world, dear God! Make me immortal! After I die let people speak my name forever with love for what I wrote! In return I vow I will give you my chastity - my industry, my deepest humility, every hour of my life. And I will help my fellow man all I can. Amen and amen! The music swells to a crescendo. The candles flare. We see the Christ through the flames looking at the boy benignly. OLD SALIERI (V.O.) And do you know what happened? A miracle! INT. DINING ROOM IN THE SALIERI HOUSE - DAY - 1780'S CU, a large cooked fish on a thick china plate. Camera pulls back to show the Salieri family at dinner. Father Salieri sits at the head of the table, a napkin tucked into his chin. Mother Salieri is serving the fish into portions and handing them round. Two maiden aunts are in attendance, wearing black, and of course the young boy. Father Salieri receives his plate of fish and starts to eat greedily. Suddenly there is a gasp - he starts to choke violently on a fish bone. All the women get up and crowd around him, thumping and pummeling him, but it is in vain. Father Salieri collapses. INT. OLD SALIERI'S HOSPITAL ROOM - LATE AFTERNOON - 1823 OLD SALIERI Suddenly he was dead. Just like that! And my life changed forever. My mother said, Go. Study music if you really want to. Off with you! And off I went as quick as I could and never saw Italy again. Of course, I knew God had arranged it all; that was obvious. One moment I was a frustrated boy in an obscure little town. The next I was here, in Vienna, city of musicians, sixteen years old and studying under Gluck! Gluck, Father. Do you know who he was? The greatest composer of his time. And he loved me! That was the wonder. He taught me everything he knew. And when I was ready, introduced me personally to the Emperor! Emperor Joseph - the musical king! Within a few years I was his court composer. Wasn't that incredible? Imperial Composer to His Majesty! Actually the man had no ear at all, but what did it matter? He adored my music, that was enough. Night after night I sat right next to the Emperor of Austria, playing duets with him, correcting the royal sight-reading. Tell me, if you had been me, wouldn't you have thought God had accepted your vow? And believe me, I honoured it. I was a model of virtue. I kept my hands off women, worked hours every day teaching students, many of them for free, sitting on endless committees to help poor musicians - work and work and work, that was all my life. And it was wonderful! Everybody liked me. I liked myself. I was the most successful musician in Vienna. And the happiest. Till he came. Mozart. CUT TO: INT. THE ARCHBISHOP OF SALZBURG'S RESIDENCE - VIENNA - DAY - 1780'S A grand room crowded with guests. A small group of Gypsy musicians is playing in the background. Thirteen members of the Archbishop's orchestra - all wind players, complete with 18th-century wind instruments: elaborate-looking bassoons, basset horns, etc. and wearing their employer's livery - are laying out music on stands at one end of the room. At the other end is a large gilded chair, bearing the arms of the ARCHBISHOP OF SALZBURG. A throng of people is standing, talking, and preparing to sit upon the rows of waiting chairs to hear a concert. OLD SALIERI (V.O.) One day he came to Vienna to play some of his music at the residence of his employer, the Prince-Archbishop of Salzburg. Eagerly I went there to seek him out. That night changed my life. We see Salieri, age thirty-one, a neat, carefully turned-cut man in decent black clothes and clean white linen, walking through the crowd of guests. We follow him. OLD SALIERI (V.O.) As I went through the salon, I played a game with myself. This man had written his first concerto at the age of four; his first symphony at seven; a full-scale opera at twelve. Did it show? Is talent like that written on the face? We see shots of assorted young men staring back at Salieri as he moves through the crowd. OLD SALIERI (V.O.) Which one of them could he be? Some of the men recognize Salieri and bow respectfully. Then suddenly a servant bearing a large tray of cakes and pastries stalks past. Instantly riveted by the sight of such delights, Salieri follows him out of the Grand Salon. INT. A PALACE CORRIDOR - DAY - 1780'S The servant marches along bearing his tray of pastries aloft. Salieri follows him. The servant turns into: INT. BUFFET ROOM IN THE PALACE - DAY - 1780'S Salieri's POV: several tables, dressed to the floor with cloths are loaded with many plates of confectionery. It is, in fact, Salieri's idea of paradise! The servant puts his tray down on one of the tables and withdraws from the room. INT. A PALACE CORRIDOR - DAY - 1780'S Salieri turns away so as not to be noticed by the servant. As soon as the man disappears, Salieri sneaks into the buffet room. INT. BUFFET ROOM IN THE PALACE - DAY - 1780'S Salieri enters the room and looks about him cautiously. He is salivating with anticipation as he stares at the feast of sweet things. His attention is attracted in particular by a huge pile of dark chocolate balls arranged in the shape of a pineapple. He reaches out a hand to steal one of the balls, but at the same moment he hears giggling coming toward him. He ducks down behind the pastry table. A girl - CONSTANZE - rushes into the room. She runs straight across it and hides herself behind one of the tables. After a beat of total silence, MOZART runs into the room, stops, and looks around. He is age twenty-six, wearing a fine wig and a brilliant coat with the insignia of the Archbishop of Salzburg upon it. He is puzzled; Constanze has disappeared. Baffled, he turns and is about to leave the room, when Constanze suddenly squeaks from under the cloth like a tiny mouse. Instantly Mozart drops to all fours and starts crawling across the floor, meowing and hissing like a naughty cat. Watched by an astonished Salieri, Mozart disappears under the cloth and obviously pounces upon Constanze. We hear a high-pitched giggle, which is going to characterize Mozart throughout the film. CUT TO: INT. PALACE GRAND SALON - DAY - 1780'S The throng is mostly seated. The musicians are in their places, holding their various exotic-looking wind instruments; the candles are all lit. A Majordomo appears and bangs his staff on the floor for attention. Immediately COLLOREDO, Prince-Archbishop of Salzburg enters. He is a small self- important figure of fifty in a wig, surmounted by a scarlet skullcap. He is followed by his Chamberlain, the Count ARCO. Everyone stands. The Archbishop goes to his throne and sits. His guests sit also. Arco gives the signal to start the music. Nothing happens. Instead, a wind musician gets up, approaches the Chamberlain and whispers in his ear. Arco in turn whispers to the Archbishop. ARCO Mozart is not here. COLLOREDO Where is he? ARCO They're looking for him, Your Grace. INT. A PALACE CORRIDOR - DAY - 1780'S Three servants are opening doors and looking into rooms going off the corridor. CUT TO: INT. PALACE GRAND SALON - DAY - 1780'S The guests are turning around and looking at the Archbishop. The musicians are watching. There is puzzlement and a murmur of comment. The Archbishop tightens his lip. COLLOREDO (to Arco) We'll start without him. INT. PALACE BUFFET ROOM - DAY - 1780'S Mozart is on his knees before the tablecloth, which reaches to the floor. Under it is Constanze. We hear her giggling as he talks. MOZART Miaouw! Miaouw! Mouse-wouse? It's Puss-wuss, fangs-wangs. Paws-claws. Pounce-bounce! He grabs her ankle. She screams. He pulls her out by her leg. CONSTANZE Stop it. Stop it! They roll on the floor. He tickles her. CONSTANZE Stop it! MOZART I am! I am! I'm stopping it - slowly. You see! Look, I've stopped. Now we are going back. He tries to drag her back under the table. CONSTANZE No! No! No! MOZART Yes! Back! Back! Listen - don't you know where you are? CONSTANZE Where? MOZART We are in the Residence of the Fartsbishop of Salzburg. CONSTANZE Fartsbishop! She laughs delightedly, then addresses an imaginary Archbishop. CONSTANZE Your Grace, I've got something to tell you. I want to complain about this man. MOZART Go ahead, tell him. Tell them all. They won't understand you anyway. CONSTANZE Why not? MOZART Because here everything goes backwards. People walk backwards, dance backwards, sing backwards, and talk backwards. CONSTANZE That's stupid. MOZART Why? People fart backwards. CONSTANZE Do you think that's funny? MOZART Yes, I think it's brilliant. You've been doing it for years. He gives a high pitched giggle. CONSTANZE Oh, ha, ha, ha. MOZART Sra-I'm-sick! Sra-I'm sick! CONSTANZE Yes, you are. You're very sick. MOZART No, no. Say it backwards, shit-wit. Sra-I'm-sick Say it backwards! CONSTANZE (working it out) Sra-I'm-sick. Sick - kiss I'm - my Kiss my! Sra-I'm-sick - Kiss my arse! MOZART Em iram! Em iram! CONSTANZE No, I'm not playing this game. MOZART No, this is serious. Say it backwards. CONSTANZE No! MOZART Just say it - you'll see. It's very serious. Em iram! Em iram! CONSTANZE Iram - marry Em - marry me! No, no! You're a fiend. I'm not going to marry a fiend. A dirty fiend at that. MOZART Ui-vol-i-tub! CONSTANZE Tub - but i-tub - but I vol - love but I love ui - You. I love you! The mood becomes suddenly softer. She kisses him. They embrace. Then he spoils it. MOZART Tish-I'm tee. What's that? CONSTANZE What? MOZART Tish-I'm-tee. CONSTANZE Eat MOZART Yes. CONSTANZE Eat my - ah! Shocked, she strikes at him. At the same moment the music starts in the salon next door. We hear the opening of the Serenade for Thirteen Wind Instruments, K. MOZART My music! They've started! They've started without me! He leaps up, disheveled and rumpled and runs out of the room. Salieri watches in amazement and disgust. CUT TO: INT. PALACE CORRIDOR - DAY - 1780'S The music is louder. Mozart hastens towards the Grand Salon away from the buffet room, adjusting his dress as he goes. INT. GRAND SALON - DAY - 1780'S The opening of the Serenade is being tentatively conducted by the leader of the wind-musicians. Guests turn around as Mozart appears - bowing to the Archbishop - and walks with an attempt at dignity to the dais where the wind band is playing. The leader yields his place to the composer and Mozart smoothly takes over conducting. Constanze, deeply embarrassed, sneaks into the room and seats herself at the back. INT. PALACE BUFFET ROOM - DAY - 1780'S The music fades down. Salieri stands shocked from his inadvertent eavesdropping. After a second he moves almost in a trance toward the door; the music dissolves. INT. GRAND SALON - DAY - 1780'S Mozart is conducting the Adagio from his Serenade (K. 361), guiding the thirteen wind instrumentalists. The squeezebox opening of the movement begins. Salieri appears at the door at the back of the salon. He stares in disbelief at Mozart. OLD SALIERI (V.O.) So that was he! That giggling, dirty- minded creature I'd just seen crawling on the floor. Mozart. The phenomenon whose legend had haunted my youth. Impossible. The music swells up and Salieri listens to it with eyes closed - amazed, transported - suddenly engulfed by the sound. Finally it fades down and away and changes into applause. Salieri opens his eyes. The audience is clearly delighted. Mozart bows to them, also delighted. Colloredo rises abruptly, and without looking at Mozart or applauding and leaves the Salon. Count Arco approaches the composer. Mozart turns to him, radiant. ARCO Follow me, please. The Archbishop would like a word. MOZART Certainly! He follows Arco out of the room, through a throng of admirers. INT. ANOTHER PALACE CORRIDOR - DAY - 1780'S Mozart and Arco walk side by side. They pass Salieri who is staring at Mozart in fascination. As they disappear, he steals toward the music stands, unable to help himself. MOZART Well, I think that went off remarkably well, don't you? ARCO Indeed. MOZART These Viennese certainly know good music when they hear it. ARCO His Grace is very angry with you. MOZART What do you mean? They arrive at the door of Colloredo's private apartment. ARCO You are to come in here and ask his pardon. Arco opens the door. INT. ARCHBISHOP'S PRIVATE ROOM - DAY - 1780'S The Archbishop is sitting, chatting to quests. Among them are several ladies. Arco approaches him obsequiously. ARCO Your Grace. COLLOREDO Ah, Mozart. Why? MOZART Why what, sir? COLLOREDO Why do I have to be humiliated in front of my guests by one of my own servants? MOZART Humiliated? COLLOREDO How much provocation am I to endure from you? The more license I allow you, the more you take. The company watches this scene, deeply interested. MOZART If His Grace is not satisfied with me, he can dismiss me. COLLOREDO I wish you to return immediately to Salzburg. Your father is waiting for you there patiently. I will speak to you further when I come. MOZART No, Your Grace! I mean with all humility, no. I would rather you dismissed me. It's obvious I don't satisfy. COLLOREDO Then try harder, Mozart. I have no intention of dismissing you. You will remain in my service and learn your place. Go now. He extends his hand to be kissed. Mozart does it with a furious grace, then leaves the room. As he opens the door we see: INT. PALACE CORRIDOR - DAY - 1780'S A group of people who have attended the concert, among them Constanze, are standing outside the private apartment. At sight of the composer they break into sustained applause. Mozart is suddenly delighted. He throws the door wide open so that the guests can see into the private apartment where the Archbishop sits

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Amadeus Script at IMSDb. var _gaq = _gaq || []; _gaq.push(['_setAccount', 'UA-3785444-3']); _gaq.push(['_trackPageview']); (function() { var ga = document.createElement('script'); ga.type = 'text/javascript'; ga.async = true; ga.src = ('https:' == document.location.protocol ? 'https://ssl' : 'http://www') + '.google-analytics.com/ga.js'; var s = document.getElementsByTagName('script')[0]; s.parentNode.insertBefore(ga, s); })(); The Internet Movie Script Database (IMSDb) The web's largest movie script resource! Search IMSDb Alphabetical # A B C D E F G H I J K L M N O P Q R S T U V W X Y Z Genre Action Adventure Animation Comedy Crime Drama Family Fantasy Film-Noir Horror Musical Mystery Romance Sci-Fi Short Thriller War Western Sponsor TV Transcripts Futurama Seinfeld South Park Stargate SG-1 Lost The 4400 International French scripts Movie Software Rip from DVD Rip Blu-Ray Latest Comments Star Wars: Revenge of the Sith10/10 Star Wars: The Force Awakens10/10 Batman Begins9/10 Collateral10/10 Jackie Brown8/10 Movie Chat Message Yell ! ALL SCRIPTS if (window!= top) top.location.href=location.href // --> AMADEUS "AMADEUS" by Peter Shaffer Final Draft INT. STAIRCASE OUTSIDE OLD SALIERI'S SALON - NIGHT - 1823 Total darkness. We hear an old man's voice, distinct and in distress. It is OLD SALIERI. He uses a mixture of English and occasionally Italian. OLD SALIERI Mozart! Mozart! Mozart. Forgive me! Forgive your assassin! Mozart! A faint light illuminates the screen. Flickeringly, we see an eighteenth century balustrade and a flight of stone stairs. We are looking down into the wall of the staircase from the point of view of the landing. Up the stair is coming a branched candlestick held by Salieri's VALET. By his side is Salieri's COOK, bearing a large dish of sugared cakes and biscuits. Both men are desperately worried: the Valet is thin and middle-aged; the Cook, plump and Italian. It is very cold. They wear shawls over their night-dresses and clogs on their feet. They wheeze as they climb. The candles throw their shadows up onto the peeling walls of the house, which is evidently an old one and in bad decay. A cat scuttles swiftly between their bare legs, as they reach the salon door. The Valet tries the handle. It is locked. Behind it the voice goes on, rising in volume. OLD SALIERI Show some mercy! I beg you. I beg you! Show mercy to a guilty man! The Valet knocks gently on the door. The voice stops. VALET Open the door, Signore! Please! Be good now! We've brought you something special. Something you're going to love. Silence. VALET Signore Salieri! Open the door. Come now. Be good! The voice of Old Salieri continues again, further off now, and louder. We hear a noise as if a window is being opened. OLD SALIERI Mozart! Mozart! I confess it! Listen! I confess! The two servants look at each other in alarm. Then the Valet hands the candlestick to the Cook and takes a sugared cake from the dish, scrambling as quickly as he can back down the stairs. EXT. THE STREET OUTSIDE SALIERI'S HOUSE - VIENNA - NIGHT The street is filled with people: ten cabs with drivers, five children, fifteen adults, two doormen, fifteen dancing couples and a sled and three dogs. It is a windy night. Snow is falling and whirling about. People are passing on foot, holding their cloaks tightly around them. Some of them are revelers in fancy dress: they wear masks on their faces or hanging around their necks, as if returning from parties. Now they are glancing up at the facade of the old house. The window above the street is open and Old Salieri stands there calling to the sky: a sharp-featured, white-haired Italian over seventy years old, wearing a stained dressing gown. OLD SALIERI Mozart! Mozart! I cannot bear it any longer! I confess! I confess what I did! I'm guilty! I killed you! Sir I confess! I killed you! The door of the house bursts open. The Valet hobbles out, holding the sugared cake. The wind catches at his shawl. OLD SALIERI Mozart, perdonami! Forgive your assassin! Piet ! Piet ! Forgive your assassin! Forgive me! Forgive! Forgive! VALET (looking up to the window) That's all right, Signore! He heard you! He forgave you! He wants you to go inside now and shut the window! Old Salieri stares down at him. Some of the passersby have now stopped and are watching this spectacle. VALET Come on, Signore! Look what I have for you! I can't give it to you from down here, can I? Old Salieri looks at him in contempt. Then he turns away back into the room, shutting the window with a bang. Through the glass, the old man stares down at the group of onlookers in the street. They stare back at him in confusion. BYSTANDER Who is that? VALET No one, sir. He'll be all right. Poor man. He's a little unhappy, you know. He makes a sign indicating 'crazy,' and goes back inside the house. The onlookers keep staring. CUT TO: INT. LANDING OUTSIDE OLD SALIERI'S SALON - NIGHT The Cook is standing holding the candlestick in one hand, the dish of cakes in the other. The Valet arrives, panting. VALET Did he open? The Cook, scared, shakes his head: no. The Valet again knocks on the door. VALET Here I am, Signore. Now open the door. He eats the sugared cake in his hand, elaborately and noisily. VALET Mmmm - this is good! This is the most delicious thing I ever ate, believe me! Signore, you don't know what you're missing! Mmmm! We hear a thump from inside the bedroom. VALET Now that's enough, Signore! Open! We hear a terrible, throaty groaning. VALET If you don't open this door, we're going to eat everything. There'll be nothing left for you. And I'm not going to bring you anything more. He looks down. From under the door we see a trickle of blood flowing. In horror, the two men stare at it. The dish of cakes falls from the Cook's hand and shatters. He sets the candlestick down on the floor. Both servants run at the door frantically - once, twice, three times - and the frail lock gives. The door flies open. Immediately, the stormy, frenzied opening of Mozart's Symphony No. 25 (the Little G Minor) begins. We see what the servants see. INT. OLD SALIERI'S SALON - NIGHT Old Salieri lies on the floor in a pool of blood, an open razor in his hand. He has cut his throat but is still alive. He gestures at them. They run to him. Barely, we glimpse the room - an old chair, old tables piled with books, a forte- piano, a chamber-pot on the floor - as the Valet and the Cook struggle to lift their old Master, and bind his bleeding throat with a napkin. INT. BALLROOM - NIGHT Twenty-five dancing couples, fifty guests, ten servants, full orchestra. As the music slows a little, we see a Masquerade Ball in progress. A crowded room of dancers is executing the slow portion of a dance fashionable in the early 1820's. EXT. STREET OUTSIDE SALIERI'S HOUSE - NIGHT As the fast music returns, we see Old Salieri being carried out of his house on a stretcher by two attendants, and placed in a horse-drawn wagon under the supervision of a middle- aged doctor in a tall hat. This is DOCTOR GULDEN. He gets in beside his patient. The driver whips up the horse, and the wagon dashes off through the still-falling snow. MONTAGE: EXT. FOUR STREETS OF VIENNA AND INT. THE WAGON - NIGHT The wagon is galloping through the snowy streets of the city. Inside the conveyance we see Old Salieri wrapped in blankets, half-conscious, being held by the hospital attendants. Doctor Gulden stares at him grimly. The wagon arrives outside the General Hospital of Vienna. CUT TO: INT. A HOSPITAL CORRIDOR - LATE AFTERNOON A wide, white-washed corridor. Doctor Gulden is walking down it with a priest, a man of about forty, concerned, but somewhat self-important. This is Father VOGLER, Chaplain at the hospital. In the corridor as they walk, we note several patients -- some of them visibly disturbed mentally. All patients wear white linen smocks. Doctor Gulden wears a dark frock-coat; Vogler, a cassock. DOCTOR GULDEN He's going to live. It's much harder to cut your throat than most people imagine. They stop outside a door. DOCTOR GULDEN Here we are. Do you wish me to come in with you? VOGLER No, Doctor. Thank you. Vogler nods and opens the door. INT. OLD SALIERI'S HOSPITAL ROOM - LATE AFTERNOON A bare room - one of the best available in the General Hospital. It contains a bed, a table with candles, chairs, a small forte-piano of the early nineteenth century. As Vogler enters, Old Salieri is sitting in a wheel-chair, looking out the window. His back is to us. The priest closes the door quietly behind him. VOGLER Herr Salieri? Old Salieri turns around to look at him. We see that his throat is bandaged expertly. He wears hospital garb, and over it the Civilian Medal and Chain with which we will later see the EMPEROR invest him. OLD SALIERI What do you want? VOGLER I am Father Vogler. I am a Chaplain here. I thought you might like to talk to someone. OLD SALIERI About what? VOGLER You tried to take your life. You do remember that, don't you? OLD SALIERI So? VOGLER In the sight of God that is a sin. OLD SALIERI What do you want? VOGLER Do you understand that you have sinned? Gravely. OLD SALIERI Leave me alone. VOGLER I cannot leave alone a soul in pain. OLD SALIERI Do you know who I am? You never heard of me, did you? VOGLER That makes no difference. All men are equal in God's eyes. OLD SALIERI Are they? VOGLER Offer me your confession. I can offer you God's forgiveness. OLD SALIERI I do not seek forgiveness. VOGLER My son, there is something dreadful on your soul. Unburden it to me. I'm here only for you. Please talk to me. OLD SALIERI How well are you trained in music? VOGLER I know a little. I studied it in my youth. OLD SALIERI Where? VOGLER Here in Vienna. OLD SALIERI Then you must know this. He propels his wheelchair to the forte-piano, and plays an unrecognizable melody. VOGLER I can't say I do. What is it? OLD SALIERI I'm surprised you don't know. It was a very popular tune in its day. I wrote it. How about this? He plays another tune. OLD SALIERI This one brought down the house when we played it first. He plays it with growing enthusiasm. CUT TO: INT. THE STAGE OF AN OPERA HOUSE - NIGHT - 1780'S We see the pretty soprano KATHERINA CAVALIERI, now about twenty-four, dressed in an elaborate mythological Persian costume, singing on stage. She's near the end of a very florid aria by Salieri. The audience applauds wildly. INT. OLD SALIERI'S HOSPITAL ROOM - LATE AFTERNOON - 1823 OLD SALIERI (taking his hands off the keys) Well? VOGLER I regret it is not too familiar. OLD SALIERI Can you recall no melody of mine? I was the most famous composer in Europe when you were still a boy. I wrote forty operas alone. What about this little thing? Slyly he plays the opening measure of Mozart's Eine Kleine Nachtmusik. The priest nods, smiling suddenly, and hums a little with the music. VOGLER Oh, I know that! That's charming! I didn't know you wrote that. OLD SALIERI I didn't. That was Mozart. Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart. You know who that is? VOGLER Of course. The man you accuse yourself of killing. OLD SALIERI Ah - you've heard that? VOGLER All Vienna has heard that. OLD SALIERI ( eagerly) And do they believe it? VOGLER Is it true? OLD SALIERI Do you believe it? VOGLER Should I? A very long pause. Salieri stares above the priest, seemingly lost in his own private world. VOGLER For God's sake, my son, if you have anything to confess, do it now! Give yourself some peace! A further pause. VOGLER Do you hear me? OLD SALIERI He was murdered, Father! Mozart! Cruelly murdered. Pause. VOGLER (almost whispering) Yes? Did you do it? Suddenly Old Salieri turns to him, a look of extreme innocence. OLD SALIERI He was my idol! I can't remember a time when I didn't know his name! When I was only fourteen he was already famous. Even in Legnago - the tiniest town in Italy - I knew of him. CUT TO: EXT. A SMALL TOWN SQUARE IN LOMBARDY, ITALY - DAY - 1780'S There are twelve children and twenty adults in the square. We see the fourteen-year-old Salieri blindfolded, playing a game of Blindman's Bluff with other Italian children, running about in the bright sunshine and laughing. OLD SALIERI (V.O.) I was still playing childish games when he was playing music for kings and emperors. Even the Pope in Rome! CUT TO: INT. A SALON IN THE VATICAN - DAY - 1780'S We see the six-year-old MOZART, also blindfolded, seated in a gilded chair on a pile of books, playing the harpsichord for the POPE and a suite of CARDINALS and other churchmen. Beside the little boy stands LEOPOLD, his father, smirking with pride. OLD SALIERI (V.O.) I admit I was jealous when I heard the tales they told about him. Not of the brilliant little prodigy himself, but of his father, who had taught him everything. The piece finishes. Leopold lowers the lid of the harpsichord and lifts up his little son to stand on it. Mozart removes the blindfold to show a pale little face with staring eyes. Both father and son bow. A Papal Chamberlain presents Leopold with a gold snuff box whilst the cardinals decorously applaud. Over this scene Old Salieri speaks. OLD SALIERI (V.O.) My father did not care for music. He wanted me only to be a merchant, like himself. As anonymous as he was. When I told how I wished I could be like Mozart, he would say, Why? Do you want to be a trained monkey? Would you like me to drag you around Europe doing tricks like a circus freak? How could I tell him what music meant to me? CUT TO: EXT. A COUNTRY CHURCH IN NORTH ITALY - DAY - 1780'S Serene music of the Italian Baroque - Pergolesi's Stabat Mater - sung by a choir of boys with organ accompaniment. We see the outside of the 17th-century church sitting in the wide landscape of Lombardy: sunlit fields, a dusty, white road, poplar trees. INT. THE CHURCH AT LEGNAGO - DAY - 1780'S The music continues and swells. We see the twelve-year-old Salieri seated between his plump and placid parents in the congregation, listening in rapture. His father is a heavy- looking, self-approving man, obviously indifferent to the music. A large and austere Christ on the cross hangs over the altar. Candles burn below his image. OLD SALIERI (V.O.) Even then a spray of sounded notes could make me dizzy, almost to falling. The boy falls forward on his knees. So do his parents and the other members of the congregation. He stares up at Christ who stares back at him. OLD SALIERI (V.O.) Whilst my father prayed earnestly to God to protect commerce, I would offer up secretly the proudest prayer a boy could think of. Lord, make me a great composer! Let me celebrate your glory through music - and be celebrated myself! Make me famous through the world, dear God! Make me immortal! After I die let people speak my name forever with love for what I wrote! In return I vow I will give you my chastity - my industry, my deepest humility, every hour of my life. And I will help my fellow man all I can. Amen and amen! The music swells to a crescendo. The candles flare. We see the Christ through the flames looking at the boy benignly. OLD SALIERI (V.O.) And do you know what happened? A miracle! INT. DINING ROOM IN THE SALIERI HOUSE - DAY - 1780'S CU, a large cooked fish on a thick china plate. Camera pulls back to show the Salieri family at dinner. Father Salieri sits at the head of the table, a napkin tucked into his chin. Mother Salieri is serving the fish into portions and handing them round. Two maiden aunts are in attendance, wearing black, and of course the young boy. Father Salieri receives his plate of fish and starts to eat greedily. Suddenly there is a gasp - he starts to choke violently on a fish bone. All the women get up and crowd around him, thumping and pummeling him, but it is in vain. Father Salieri collapses. INT. OLD SALIERI'S HOSPITAL ROOM - LATE AFTERNOON - 1823 OLD SALIERI Suddenly he was dead. Just like that! And my life changed forever. My mother said, Go. Study music if you really want to. Off with you! And off I went as quick as I could and never saw Italy again. Of course, I knew God had arranged it all; that was obvious. One moment I was a frustrated boy in an obscure little town. The next I was here, in Vienna, city of musicians, sixteen years old and studying under Gluck! Gluck, Father. Do you know who he was? The greatest composer of his time. And he loved me! That was the wonder. He taught me everything he knew. And when I was ready, introduced me personally to the Emperor! Emperor Joseph - the musical king! Within a few years I was his court composer. Wasn't that incredible? Imperial Composer to His Majesty! Actually the man had no ear at all, but what did it matter? He adored my music, that was enough. Night after night I sat right next to the Emperor of Austria, playing duets with him, correcting the royal sight-reading. Tell me, if you had been me, wouldn't you have thought God had accepted your vow? And believe me, I honoured it. I was a model of virtue. I kept my hands off women, worked hours every day teaching students, many of them for free, sitting on endless committees to help poor musicians - work and work and work, that was all my life. And it was wonderful! Everybody liked me. I liked myself. I was the most successful musician in Vienna. And the happiest. Till he came. Mozart. CUT TO: INT. THE ARCHBISHOP OF SALZBURG'S RESIDENCE - VIENNA - DAY - 1780'S A grand room crowded with guests. A small group of Gypsy musicians is playing in the background. Thirteen members of the Archbishop's orchestra - all wind players, complete with 18th-century wind instruments: elaborate-looking bassoons, basset horns, etc. and wearing their employer's livery - are laying out music on stands at one end of the room. At the other end is a large gilded chair, bearing the arms of the ARCHBISHOP OF SALZBURG. A throng of people is standing, talking, and preparing to sit upon the rows of waiting chairs to hear a concert. OLD SALIERI (V.O.) One day he came to Vienna to play some of his music at the residence of his employer, the Prince-Archbishop of Salzburg. Eagerly I went there to seek him out. That night changed my life. We see Salieri, age thirty-one, a neat, carefully turned-cut man in decent black clothes and clean white linen, walking through the crowd of guests. We follow him. OLD SALIERI (V.O.) As I went through the salon, I played a game with myself. This man had written his first concerto at the age of four; his first symphony at seven; a full-scale opera at twelve. Did it show? Is talent like that written on the face? We see shots of assorted young men staring back at Salieri as he moves through the crowd. OLD SALIERI (V.O.) Which one of them could he be? Some of the men recognize Salieri and bow respectfully. Then suddenly a servant bearing a large tray of cakes and pastries stalks past. Instantly riveted by the sight of such delights, Salieri follows him out of the Grand Salon. INT. A PALACE CORRIDOR - DAY - 1780'S The servant marches along bearing his tray of pastries aloft. Salieri follows him. The servant turns into: INT. BUFFET ROOM IN THE PALACE - DAY - 1780'S Salieri's POV: several tables, dressed to the floor with cloths are loaded with many plates of confectionery. It is, in fact, Salieri's idea of paradise! The servant puts his tray down on one of the tables and withdraws from the room. INT. A PALACE CORRIDOR - DAY - 1780'S Salieri turns away so as not to be noticed by the servant. As soon as the man disappears, Salieri sneaks into the buffet room. INT. BUFFET ROOM IN THE PALACE - DAY - 1780'S Salieri enters the room and looks about him cautiously. He is salivating with anticipation as he stares at the feast of sweet things. His attention is attracted in particular by a huge pile of dark chocolate balls arranged in the shape of a pineapple. He reaches out a hand to steal one of the balls, but at the same moment he hears giggling coming toward him. He ducks down behind the pastry table. A girl - CONSTANZE - rushes into the room. She runs straight across it and hides herself behind one of the tables. After a beat of total silence, MOZART runs into the room, stops, and looks around. He is age twenty-six, wearing a fine wig and a brilliant coat with the insignia of the Archbishop of Salzburg upon it. He is puzzled; Constanze has disappeared. Baffled, he turns and is about to leave the room, when Constanze suddenly squeaks from under the cloth like a tiny mouse. Instantly Mozart drops to all fours and starts crawling across the floor, meowing and hissing like a naughty cat. Watched by an astonished Salieri, Mozart disappears under the cloth and obviously pounces upon Constanze. We hear a high-pitched giggle, which is going to characterize Mozart throughout the film. CUT TO: INT. PALACE GRAND SALON - DAY - 1780'S The throng is mostly seated. The musicians are in their places, holding their various exotic-looking wind instruments; the candles are all lit. A Majordomo appears and bangs his staff on the floor for attention. Immediately COLLOREDO, Prince-Archbishop of Salzburg enters. He is a small self- important figure of fifty in a wig, surmounted by a scarlet skullcap. He is followed by his Chamberlain, the Count ARCO. Everyone stands. The Archbishop goes to his throne and sits. His guests sit also. Arco gives the signal to start the music. Nothing happens. Instead, a wind musician gets up, approaches the Chamberlain and whispers in his ear. Arco in turn whispers to the Archbishop. ARCO Mozart is not here. COLLOREDO Where is he? ARCO They're looking for him, Your Grace. INT. A PALACE CORRIDOR - DAY - 1780'S Three servants are opening doors and looking into rooms going off the corridor. CUT TO: INT. PALACE GRAND SALON - DAY - 1780'S The guests are turning around and looking at the Archbishop. The musicians are watching. There is puzzlement and a murmur of comment. The Archbishop tightens his lip. COLLOREDO (to Arco) We'll start without him. INT. PALACE BUFFET ROOM - DAY - 1780'S Mozart is on his knees before the tablecloth, which reaches to the floor. Under it is Constanze. We hear her giggling as he talks. MOZART Miaouw! Miaouw! Mouse-wouse? It's Puss-wuss, fangs-wangs. Paws-claws. Pounce-bounce! He grabs her ankle. She screams. He pulls her out by her leg. CONSTANZE Stop it. Stop it! They roll on the floor. He tickles her. CONSTANZE Stop it! MOZART I am! I am! I'm stopping it - slowly. You see! Look, I've stopped. Now we are going back. He tries to drag her back under the table. CONSTANZE No! No! No! MOZART Yes! Back! Back! Listen - don't you know where you are? CONSTANZE Where? MOZART We are in the Residence of the Fartsbishop of Salzburg. CONSTANZE Fartsbishop! She laughs delightedly, then addresses an imaginary Archbishop. CONSTANZE Your Grace, I've got something to tell you. I want to complain about this man. MOZART Go ahead, tell him. Tell them all. They won't understand you anyway. CONSTANZE Why not? MOZART Because here everything goes backwards. People walk backwards, dance backwards, sing backwards, and talk backwards. CONSTANZE That's stupid. MOZART Why? People fart backwards. CONSTANZE Do you think that's funny? MOZART Yes, I think it's brilliant. You've been doing it for years. He gives a high pitched giggle. CONSTANZE Oh, ha, ha, ha. MOZART Sra-I'm-sick! Sra-I'm sick! CONSTANZE Yes, you are. You're very sick. MOZART No, no. Say it backwards, shit-wit. Sra-I'm-sick Say it backwards! CONSTANZE (working it out) Sra-I'm-sick. Sick - kiss I'm - my Kiss my! Sra-I'm-sick - Kiss my arse! MOZART Em iram! Em iram! CONSTANZE No, I'm not playing this game. MOZART No, this is serious. Say it backwards. CONSTANZE No! MOZART Just say it - you'll see. It's very serious. Em iram! Em iram! CONSTANZE Iram - marry Em - marry me! No, no! You're a fiend. I'm not going to marry a fiend. A dirty fiend at that. MOZART Ui-vol-i-tub! CONSTANZE Tub - but i-tub - but I vol - love but I love ui - You. I love you! The mood becomes suddenly softer. She kisses him. They embrace. Then he spoils it. MOZART Tish-I'm tee. What's that? CONSTANZE What? MOZART Tish-I'm-tee. CONSTANZE Eat MOZART Yes. CONSTANZE Eat my - ah! Shocked, she strikes at him. At the same moment the music starts in the salon next door. We hear the opening of the Serenade for Thirteen Wind Instruments, K. MOZART My music! They've started! They've started without me! He leaps up, disheveled and rumpled and runs out of the room. Salieri watches in amazement and disgust. CUT TO: INT. PALACE CORRIDOR - DAY - 1780'S The music is louder. Mozart hastens towards the Grand Salon away from the buffet room, adjusting his dress as he goes. INT. GRAND SALON - DAY - 1780'S The opening of the Serenade is being tentatively conducted by the leader of the wind-musicians. Guests turn around as Mozart appears - bowing to the Archbishop - and walks with an attempt at dignity to the dais where the wind band is playing. The leader yields his place to the composer and Mozart smoothly takes over conducting. Constanze, deeply embarrassed, sneaks into the room and seats herself at the back. INT. PALACE BUFFET ROOM - DAY - 1780'S The music fades down. Salieri stands shocked from his inadvertent eavesdropping. After a second he moves almost in a trance toward the door; the music dissolves. INT. GRAND SALON - DAY - 1780'S Mozart is conducting the Adagio from his Serenade (K. 361), guiding the thirteen wind instrumentalists. The squeezebox opening of the movement begins. Salieri appears at the door at the back of the salon. He stares in disbelief at Mozart. OLD SALIERI (V.O.) So that was he! That giggling, dirty- minded creature I'd just seen crawling on the floor. Mozart. The phenomenon whose legend had haunted my youth. Impossible. The music swells up and Salieri listens to it with eyes closed - amazed, transported - suddenly engulfed by the sound. Finally it fades down and away and changes into applause. Salieri opens his eyes. The audience is clearly delighted. Mozart bows to them, also delighted. Colloredo rises abruptly, and without looking at Mozart or applauding and leaves the Salon. Count Arco approaches the composer. Mozart turns to him, radiant. ARCO Follow me, please. The Archbishop would like a word. MOZART Certainly! He follows Arco out of the room, through a throng of admirers. INT. ANOTHER PALACE CORRIDOR - DAY - 1780'S Mozart and Arco walk side by side. They pass Salieri who is staring at Mozart in fascination. As they disappear, he steals toward the music stands, unable to help himself. MOZART Well, I think that went off remarkably well, don't you? ARCO Indeed. MOZART These Viennese certainly know good music when they hear it. ARCO His Grace is very angry with you. MOZART What do you mean? They arrive at the door of Colloredo's private apartment. ARCO You are to come in here and ask his pardon. Arco opens the door. INT. ARCHBISHOP'S PRIVATE ROOM - DAY - 1780'S The Archbishop is sitting, chatting to quests. Among them are several ladies. Arco approaches him obsequiously. ARCO Your Grace. COLLOREDO Ah, Mozart. Why? MOZART Why what, sir? COLLOREDO Why do I have to be humiliated in front of my guests by one of my own servants? MOZART Humiliated? COLLOREDO How much provocation am I to endure from you? The more license I allow you, the more you take. The company watches this scene, deeply interested. MOZART If His Grace is not satisfied with me, he can dismiss me. COLLOREDO I wish you to return immediately to Salzburg. Your father is waiting for you there patiently. I will speak to you further when I come. MOZART No, Your Grace! I mean with all humility, no. I would rather you dismissed me. It's obvious I don't satisfy. COLLOREDO Then try harder, Mozart. I have no intention of dismissing you. You will remain in my service and learn your place. Go now. He extends his hand to be kissed. Mozart does it with a furious grace, then leaves the room. As he opens the door we see: INT. PALACE CORRIDOR - DAY - 1780'S A group of people who have attended the concert, among them Constanze, are standing outside the private apartment. At sight of the composer they break into sustained applause. Mozart is suddenly delighted. He throws the door wide open so that the guests can see into the private apartment where the Archbishop sits

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Amadeus Script at IMSDb. var _gaq = _gaq || []; _gaq.push(['_setAccount', 'UA-3785444-3']); _gaq.push(['_trackPageview']); (function() { var ga = document.createElement('script'); ga.type = 'text/javascript'; ga.async = true; ga.src = ('https:' == document.location.protocol ? 'https://ssl' : 'http://www') + '.google-analytics.com/ga.js'; var s = document.getElementsByTagName('script')[0]; s.parentNode.insertBefore(ga, s); })(); The Internet Movie Script Database (IMSDb) The web's largest movie script resource! Search IMSDb Alphabetical # A B C D E F G H I J K L M N O P Q R S T U V W X Y Z Genre Action Adventure Animation Comedy Crime Drama Family Fantasy Film-Noir Horror Musical Mystery Romance Sci-Fi Short Thriller War Western Sponsor TV Transcripts Futurama Seinfeld South Park Stargate SG-1 Lost The 4400 International French scripts Movie Software Rip from DVD Rip Blu-Ray Latest Comments Star Wars: Revenge of the Sith10/10 Star Wars: The Force Awakens10/10 Batman Begins9/10 Collateral10/10 Jackie Brown8/10 Movie Chat Message Yell ! ALL SCRIPTS if (window!= top) top.location.href=location.href // --> AMADEUS "AMADEUS" by Peter Shaffer Final Draft INT. STAIRCASE OUTSIDE OLD SALIERI'S SALON - NIGHT - 1823 Total darkness. We hear an old man's voice, distinct and in distress. It is OLD SALIERI. He uses a mixture of English and occasionally Italian. OLD SALIERI Mozart! Mozart! Mozart. Forgive me! Forgive your assassin! Mozart! A faint light illuminates the screen. Flickeringly, we see an eighteenth century balustrade and a flight of stone stairs. We are looking down into the wall of the staircase from the point of view of the landing. Up the stair is coming a branched candlestick held by Salieri's VALET. By his side is Salieri's COOK, bearing a large dish of sugared cakes and biscuits. Both men are desperately worried: the Valet is thin and middle-aged; the Cook, plump and Italian. It is very cold. They wear shawls over their night-dresses and clogs on their feet. They wheeze as they climb. The candles throw their shadows up onto the peeling walls of the house, which is evidently an old one and in bad decay. A cat scuttles swiftly between their bare legs, as they reach the salon door. The Valet tries the handle. It is locked. Behind it the voice goes on, rising in volume. OLD SALIERI Show some mercy! I beg you. I beg you! Show mercy to a guilty man! The Valet knocks gently on the door. The voice stops. VALET Open the door, Signore! Please! Be good now! We've brought you something special. Something you're going to love. Silence. VALET Signore Salieri! Open the door. Come now. Be good! The voice of Old Salieri continues again, further off now, and louder. We hear a noise as if a window is being opened. OLD SALIERI Mozart! Mozart! I confess it! Listen! I confess! The two servants look at each other in alarm. Then the Valet hands the candlestick to the Cook and takes a sugared cake from the dish, scrambling as quickly as he can back down the stairs. EXT. THE STREET OUTSIDE SALIERI'S HOUSE - VIENNA - NIGHT The street is filled with people: ten cabs with drivers, five children, fifteen adults, two doormen, fifteen dancing couples and a sled and three dogs. It is a windy night. Snow is falling and whirling about. People are passing on foot, holding their cloaks tightly around them. Some of them are revelers in fancy dress: they wear masks on their faces or hanging around their necks, as if returning from parties. Now they are glancing up at the facade of the old house. The window above the street is open and Old Salieri stands there calling to the sky: a sharp-featured, white-haired Italian over seventy years old, wearing a stained dressing gown. OLD SALIERI Mozart! Mozart! I cannot bear it any longer! I confess! I confess what I did! I'm guilty! I killed you! Sir I confess! I killed you! The door of the house bursts open. The Valet hobbles out, holding the sugared cake. The wind catches at his shawl. OLD SALIERI Mozart, perdonami! Forgive your assassin! Piet ! Piet ! Forgive your assassin! Forgive me! Forgive! Forgive! VALET (looking up to the window) That's all right, Signore! He heard you! He forgave you! He wants you to go inside now and shut the window! Old Salieri stares down at him. Some of the passersby have now stopped and are watching this spectacle. VALET Come on, Signore! Look what I have for you! I can't give it to you from down here, can I? Old Salieri looks at him in contempt. Then he turns away back into the room, shutting the window with a bang. Through the glass, the old man stares down at the group of onlookers in the street. They stare back at him in confusion. BYSTANDER Who is that? VALET No one, sir. He'll be all right. Poor man. He's a little unhappy, you know. He makes a sign indicating 'crazy,' and goes back inside the house. The onlookers keep staring. CUT TO: INT. LANDING OUTSIDE OLD SALIERI'S SALON - NIGHT The Cook is standing holding the candlestick in one hand, the dish of cakes in the other. The Valet arrives, panting. VALET Did he open? The Cook, scared, shakes his head: no. The Valet again knocks on the door. VALET Here I am, Signore. Now open the door. He eats the sugared cake in his hand, elaborately and noisily. VALET Mmmm - this is good! This is the most delicious thing I ever ate, believe me! Signore, you don't know what you're missing! Mmmm! We hear a thump from inside the bedroom. VALET Now that's enough, Signore! Open! We hear a terrible, throaty groaning. VALET If you don't open this door, we're going to eat everything. There'll be nothing left for you. And I'm not going to bring you anything more. He looks down. From under the door we see a trickle of blood flowing. In horror, the two men stare at it. The dish of cakes falls from the Cook's hand and shatters. He sets the candlestick down on the floor. Both servants run at the door frantically - once, twice, three times - and the frail lock gives. The door flies open. Immediately, the stormy, frenzied opening of Mozart's Symphony No. 25 (the Little G Minor) begins. We see what the servants see. INT. OLD SALIERI'S SALON - NIGHT Old Salieri lies on the floor in a pool of blood, an open razor in his hand. He has cut his throat but is still alive. He gestures at them. They run to him. Barely, we glimpse the room - an old chair, old tables piled with books, a forte- piano, a chamber-pot on the floor - as the Valet and the Cook struggle to lift their old Master, and bind his bleeding throat with a napkin. INT. BALLROOM - NIGHT Twenty-five dancing couples, fifty guests, ten servants, full orchestra. As the music slows a little, we see a Masquerade Ball in progress. A crowded room of dancers is executing the slow portion of a dance fashionable in the early 1820's. EXT. STREET OUTSIDE SALIERI'S HOUSE - NIGHT As the fast music returns, we see Old Salieri being carried out of his house on a stretcher by two attendants, and placed in a horse-drawn wagon under the supervision of a middle- aged doctor in a tall hat. This is DOCTOR GULDEN. He gets in beside his patient. The driver whips up the horse, and the wagon dashes off through the still-falling snow. MONTAGE: EXT. FOUR STREETS OF VIENNA AND INT. THE WAGON - NIGHT The wagon is galloping through the snowy streets of the city. Inside the conveyance we see Old Salieri wrapped in blankets, half-conscious, being held by the hospital attendants. Doctor Gulden stares at him grimly. The wagon arrives outside the General Hospital of Vienna. CUT TO: INT. A HOSPITAL CORRIDOR - LATE AFTERNOON A wide, white-washed corridor. Doctor Gulden is walking down it with a priest, a man of about forty, concerned, but somewhat self-important. This is Father VOGLER, Chaplain at the hospital. In the corridor as they walk, we note several patients -- some of them visibly disturbed mentally. All patients wear white linen smocks. Doctor Gulden wears a dark frock-coat; Vogler, a cassock. DOCTOR GULDEN He's going to live. It's much harder to cut your throat than most people imagine. They stop outside a door. DOCTOR GULDEN Here we are. Do you wish me to come in with you? VOGLER No, Doctor. Thank you. Vogler nods and opens the door. INT. OLD SALIERI'S HOSPITAL ROOM - LATE AFTERNOON A bare room - one of the best available in the General Hospital. It contains a bed, a table with candles, chairs, a small forte-piano of the early nineteenth century. As Vogler enters, Old Salieri is sitting in a wheel-chair, looking out the window. His back is to us. The priest closes the door quietly behind him. VOGLER Herr Salieri? Old Salieri turns around to look at him. We see that his throat is bandaged expertly. He wears hospital garb, and over it the Civilian Medal and Chain with which we will later see the EMPEROR invest him. OLD SALIERI What do you want? VOGLER I am Father Vogler. I am a Chaplain here. I thought you might like to talk to someone. OLD SALIERI About what? VOGLER You tried to take your life. You do remember that, don't you? OLD SALIERI So? VOGLER In the sight of God that is a sin. OLD SALIERI What do you want? VOGLER Do you understand that you have sinned? Gravely. OLD SALIERI Leave me alone. VOGLER I cannot leave alone a soul in pain. OLD SALIERI Do you know who I am? You never heard of me, did you? VOGLER That makes no difference. All men are equal in God's eyes. OLD SALIERI Are they? VOGLER Offer me your confession. I can offer you God's forgiveness. OLD SALIERI I do not seek forgiveness. VOGLER My son, there is something dreadful on your soul. Unburden it to me. I'm here only for you. Please talk to me. OLD SALIERI How well are you trained in music? VOGLER I know a little. I studied it in my youth. OLD SALIERI Where? VOGLER Here in Vienna. OLD SALIERI Then you must know this. He propels his wheelchair to the forte-piano, and plays an unrecognizable melody. VOGLER I can't say I do. What is it? OLD SALIERI I'm surprised you don't know. It was a very popular tune in its day. I wrote it. How about this? He plays another tune. OLD SALIERI This one brought down the house when we played it first. He plays it with growing enthusiasm. CUT TO: INT. THE STAGE OF AN OPERA HOUSE - NIGHT - 1780'S We see the pretty soprano KATHERINA CAVALIERI, now about twenty-four, dressed in an elaborate mythological Persian costume, singing on stage. She's near the end of a very florid aria by Salieri. The audience applauds wildly. INT. OLD SALIERI'S HOSPITAL ROOM - LATE AFTERNOON - 1823 OLD SALIERI (taking his hands off the keys) Well? VOGLER I regret it is not too familiar. OLD SALIERI Can you recall no melody of mine? I was the most famous composer in Europe when you were still a boy. I wrote forty operas alone. What about this little thing? Slyly he plays the opening measure of Mozart's Eine Kleine Nachtmusik. The priest nods, smiling suddenly, and hums a little with the music. VOGLER Oh, I know that! That's charming! I didn't know you wrote that. OLD SALIERI I didn't. That was Mozart. Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart. You know who that is? VOGLER Of course. The man you accuse yourself of killing. OLD SALIERI Ah - you've heard that? VOGLER All Vienna has heard that. OLD SALIERI ( eagerly) And do they believe it? VOGLER Is it true? OLD SALIERI Do you believe it? VOGLER Should I? A very long pause. Salieri stares above the priest, seemingly lost in his own private world. VOGLER For God's sake, my son, if you have anything to confess, do it now! Give yourself some peace! A further pause. VOGLER Do you hear me? OLD SALIERI He was murdered, Father! Mozart! Cruelly murdered. Pause. VOGLER (almost whispering) Yes? Did you do it? Suddenly Old Salieri turns to him, a look of extreme innocence. OLD SALIERI He was my idol! I can't remember a time when I didn't know his name! When I was only fourteen he was already famous. Even in Legnago - the tiniest town in Italy - I knew of him. CUT TO: EXT. A SMALL TOWN SQUARE IN LOMBARDY, ITALY - DAY - 1780'S There are twelve children and twenty adults in the square. We see the fourteen-year-old Salieri blindfolded, playing a game of Blindman's Bluff with other Italian children, running about in the bright sunshine and laughing. OLD SALIERI (V.O.) I was still playing childish games when he was playing music for kings and emperors. Even the Pope in Rome! CUT TO: INT. A SALON IN THE VATICAN - DAY - 1780'S We see the six-year-old MOZART, also blindfolded, seated in a gilded chair on a pile of books, playing the harpsichord for the POPE and a suite of CARDINALS and other churchmen. Beside the little boy stands LEOPOLD, his father, smirking with pride. OLD SALIERI (V.O.) I admit I was jealous when I heard the tales they told about him. Not of the brilliant little prodigy himself, but of his father, who had taught him everything. The piece finishes. Leopold lowers the lid of the harpsichord and lifts up his little son to stand on it. Mozart removes the blindfold to show a pale little face with staring eyes. Both father and son bow. A Papal Chamberlain presents Leopold with a gold snuff box whilst the cardinals decorously applaud. Over this scene Old Salieri speaks. OLD SALIERI (V.O.) My father did not care for music. He wanted me only to be a merchant, like himself. As anonymous as he was. When I told how I wished I could be like Mozart, he would say, Why? Do you want to be a trained monkey? Would you like me to drag you around Europe doing tricks like a circus freak? How could I tell him what music meant to me? CUT TO: EXT. A COUNTRY CHURCH IN NORTH ITALY - DAY - 1780'S Serene music of the Italian Baroque - Pergolesi's Stabat Mater - sung by a choir of boys with organ accompaniment. We see the outside of the 17th-century church sitting in the wide landscape of Lombardy: sunlit fields, a dusty, white road, poplar trees. INT. THE CHURCH AT LEGNAGO - DAY - 1780'S The music continues and swells. We see the twelve-year-old Salieri seated between his plump and placid parents in the congregation, listening in rapture. His father is a heavy- looking, self-approving man, obviously indifferent to the music. A large and austere Christ on the cross hangs over the altar. Candles burn below his image. OLD SALIERI (V.O.) Even then a spray of sounded notes could make me dizzy, almost to falling. The boy falls forward on his knees. So do his parents and the other members of the congregation. He stares up at Christ who stares back at him. OLD SALIERI (V.O.) Whilst my father prayed earnestly to God to protect commerce, I would offer up secretly the proudest prayer a boy could think of. Lord, make me a great composer! Let me celebrate your glory through music - and be celebrated myself! Make me famous through the world, dear God! Make me immortal! After I die let people speak my name forever with love for what I wrote! In return I vow I will give you my chastity - my industry, my deepest humility, every hour of my life. And I will help my fellow man all I can. Amen and amen! The music swells to a crescendo. The candles flare. We see the Christ through the flames looking at the boy benignly. OLD SALIERI (V.O.) And do you know what happened? A miracle! INT. DINING ROOM IN THE SALIERI HOUSE - DAY - 1780'S CU, a large cooked fish on a thick china plate. Camera pulls back to show the Salieri family at dinner. Father Salieri sits at the head of the table, a napkin tucked into his chin. Mother Salieri is serving the fish into portions and handing them round. Two maiden aunts are in attendance, wearing black, and of course the young boy. Father Salieri receives his plate of fish and starts to eat greedily. Suddenly there is a gasp - he starts to choke violently on a fish bone. All the women get up and crowd around him, thumping and pummeling him, but it is in vain. Father Salieri collapses. INT. OLD SALIERI'S HOSPITAL ROOM - LATE AFTERNOON - 1823 OLD SALIERI Suddenly he was dead. Just like that! And my life changed forever. My mother said, Go. Study music if you really want to. Off with you! And off I went as quick as I could and never saw Italy again. Of course, I knew God had arranged it all; that was obvious. One moment I was a frustrated boy in an obscure little town. The next I was here, in Vienna, city of musicians, sixteen years old and studying under Gluck! Gluck, Father. Do you know who he was? The greatest composer of his time. And he loved me! That was the wonder. He taught me everything he knew. And when I was ready, introduced me personally to the Emperor! Emperor Joseph - the musical king! Within a few years I was his court composer. Wasn't that incredible? Imperial Composer to His Majesty! Actually the man had no ear at all, but what did it matter? He adored my music, that was enough. Night after night I sat right next to the Emperor of Austria, playing duets with him, correcting the royal sight-reading. Tell me, if you had been me, wouldn't you have thought God had accepted your vow? And believe me, I honoured it. I was a model of virtue. I kept my hands off women, worked hours every day teaching students, many of them for free, sitting on endless committees to help poor musicians - work and work and work, that was all my life. And it was wonderful! Everybody liked me. I liked myself. I was the most successful musician in Vienna. And the happiest. Till he came. Mozart. CUT TO: INT. THE ARCHBISHOP OF SALZBURG'S RESIDENCE - VIENNA - DAY - 1780'S A grand room crowded with guests. A small group of Gypsy musicians is playing in the background. Thirteen members of the Archbishop's orchestra - all wind players, complete with 18th-century wind instruments: elaborate-looking bassoons, basset horns, etc. and wearing their employer's livery - are laying out music on stands at one end of the room. At the other end is a large gilded chair, bearing the arms of the ARCHBISHOP OF SALZBURG. A throng of people is standing, talking, and preparing to sit upon the rows of waiting chairs to hear a concert. OLD SALIERI (V.O.) One day he came to Vienna to play some of his music at the residence of his employer, the Prince-Archbishop of Salzburg. Eagerly I went there to seek him out. That night changed my life. We see Salieri, age thirty-one, a neat, carefully turned-cut man in decent black clothes and clean white linen, walking through the crowd of guests. We follow him. OLD SALIERI (V.O.) As I went through the salon, I played a game with myself. This man had written his first concerto at the age of four; his first symphony at seven; a full-scale opera at twelve. Did it show? Is talent like that written on the face? We see shots of assorted young men staring back at Salieri as he moves through the crowd. OLD SALIERI (V.O.) Which one of them could he be? Some of the men recognize Salieri and bow respectfully. Then suddenly a servant bearing a large tray of cakes and pastries stalks past. Instantly riveted by the sight of such delights, Salieri follows him out of the Grand Salon. INT. A PALACE CORRIDOR - DAY - 1780'S The servant marches along bearing his tray of pastries aloft. Salieri follows him. The servant turns into: INT. BUFFET ROOM IN THE PALACE - DAY - 1780'S Salieri's POV: several tables, dressed to the floor with cloths are loaded with many plates of confectionery. It is, in fact, Salieri's idea of paradise! The servant puts his tray down on one of the tables and withdraws from the room. INT. A PALACE CORRIDOR - DAY - 1780'S Salieri turns away so as not to be noticed by the servant. As soon as the man disappears, Salieri sneaks into the buffet room. INT. BUFFET ROOM IN THE PALACE - DAY - 1780'S Salieri enters the room and looks about him cautiously. He is salivating with anticipation as he stares at the feast of sweet things. His attention is attracted in particular by a huge pile of dark chocolate balls arranged in the shape of a pineapple. He reaches out a hand to steal one of the balls, but at the same moment he hears giggling coming toward him. He ducks down behind the pastry table. A girl - CONSTANZE - rushes into the room. She runs straight across it and hides herself behind one of the tables. After a beat of total silence, MOZART runs into the room, stops, and looks around. He is age twenty-six, wearing a fine wig and a brilliant coat with the insignia of the Archbishop of Salzburg upon it. He is puzzled; Constanze has disappeared. Baffled, he turns and is about to leave the room, when Constanze suddenly squeaks from under the cloth like a tiny mouse. Instantly Mozart drops to all fours and starts crawling across the floor, meowing and hissing like a naughty cat. Watched by an astonished Salieri, Mozart disappears under the cloth and obviously pounces upon Constanze. We hear a high-pitched giggle, which is going to characterize Mozart throughout the film. CUT TO: INT. PALACE GRAND SALON - DAY - 1780'S The throng is mostly seated. The musicians are in their places, holding their various exotic-looking wind instruments; the candles are all lit. A Majordomo appears and bangs his staff on the floor for attention. Immediately COLLOREDO, Prince-Archbishop of Salzburg enters. He is a small self- important figure of fifty in a wig, surmounted by a scarlet skullcap. He is followed by his Chamberlain, the Count ARCO. Everyone stands. The Archbishop goes to his throne and sits. His guests sit also. Arco gives the signal to start the music. Nothing happens. Instead, a wind musician gets up, approaches the Chamberlain and whispers in his ear. Arco in turn whispers to the Archbishop. ARCO Mozart is not here. COLLOREDO Where is he? ARCO They're looking for him, Your Grace. INT. A PALACE CORRIDOR - DAY - 1780'S Three servants are opening doors and looking into rooms going off the corridor. CUT TO: INT. PALACE GRAND SALON - DAY - 1780'S The guests are turning around and looking at the Archbishop. The musicians are watching. There is puzzlement and a murmur of comment. The Archbishop tightens his lip. COLLOREDO (to Arco) We'll start without him. INT. PALACE BUFFET ROOM - DAY - 1780'S Mozart is on his knees before the tablecloth, which reaches to the floor. Under it is Constanze. We hear her giggling as he talks. MOZART Miaouw! Miaouw! Mouse-wouse? It's Puss-wuss, fangs-wangs. Paws-claws. Pounce-bounce! He grabs her ankle. She screams. He pulls her out by her leg. CONSTANZE Stop it. Stop it! They roll on the floor. He tickles her. CONSTANZE Stop it! MOZART I am! I am! I'm stopping it - slowly. You see! Look, I've stopped. Now we are going back. He tries to drag her back under the table. CONSTANZE No! No! No! MOZART Yes! Back! Back! Listen - don't you know where you are? CONSTANZE Where? MOZART We are in the Residence of the Fartsbishop of Salzburg. CONSTANZE Fartsbishop! She laughs delightedly, then addresses an imaginary Archbishop. CONSTANZE Your Grace, I've got something to tell you. I want to complain about this man. MOZART Go ahead, tell him. Tell them all. They won't understand you anyway. CONSTANZE Why not? MOZART Because here everything goes backwards. People walk backwards, dance backwards, sing backwards, and talk backwards. CONSTANZE That's stupid. MOZART Why? People fart backwards. CONSTANZE Do you think that's funny? MOZART Yes, I think it's brilliant. You've been doing it for years. He gives a high pitched giggle. CONSTANZE Oh, ha, ha, ha. MOZART Sra-I'm-sick! Sra-I'm sick! CONSTANZE Yes, you are. You're very sick. MOZART No, no. Say it backwards, shit-wit. Sra-I'm-sick Say it backwards! CONSTANZE (working it out) Sra-I'm-sick. Sick - kiss I'm - my Kiss my! Sra-I'm-sick - Kiss my arse! MOZART Em iram! Em iram! CONSTANZE No, I'm not playing this game. MOZART No, this is serious. Say it backwards. CONSTANZE No! MOZART Just say it - you'll see. It's very serious. Em iram! Em iram! CONSTANZE Iram - marry Em - marry me! No, no! You're a fiend. I'm not going to marry a fiend. A dirty fiend at that. MOZART Ui-vol-i-tub! CONSTANZE Tub - but i-tub - but I vol - love but I love ui - You. I love you! The mood becomes suddenly softer. She kisses him. They embrace. Then he spoils it. MOZART Tish-I'm tee. What's that? CONSTANZE What? MOZART Tish-I'm-tee. CONSTANZE Eat MOZART Yes. CONSTANZE Eat my - ah! Shocked, she strikes at him. At the same moment the music starts in the salon next door. We hear the opening of the Serenade for Thirteen Wind Instruments, K. MOZART My music! They've started! They've started without me! He leaps up, disheveled and rumpled and runs out of the room. Salieri watches in amazement and disgust. CUT TO: INT. PALACE CORRIDOR - DAY - 1780'S The music is louder. Mozart hastens towards the Grand Salon away from the buffet room, adjusting his dress as he goes. INT. GRAND SALON - DAY - 1780'S The opening of the Serenade is being tentatively conducted by the leader of the wind-musicians. Guests turn around as Mozart appears - bowing to the Archbishop - and walks with an attempt at dignity to the dais where the wind band is playing. The leader yields his place to the composer and Mozart smoothly takes over conducting. Constanze, deeply embarrassed, sneaks into the room and seats herself at the back. INT. PALACE BUFFET ROOM - DAY - 1780'S The music fades down. Salieri stands shocked from his inadvertent eavesdropping. After a second he moves almost in a trance toward the door; the music dissolves. INT. GRAND SALON - DAY - 1780'S Mozart is conducting the Adagio from his Serenade (K. 361), guiding the thirteen wind instrumentalists. The squeezebox opening of the movement begins. Salieri appears at the door at the back of the salon. He stares in disbelief at Mozart. OLD SALIERI (V.O.) So that was he! That giggling, dirty- minded creature I'd just seen crawling on the floor. Mozart. The phenomenon whose legend had haunted my youth. Impossible. The music swells up and Salieri listens to it with eyes closed - amazed, transported - suddenly engulfed by the sound. Finally it fades down and away and changes into applause. Salieri opens his eyes. The audience is clearly delighted. Mozart bows to them, also delighted. Colloredo rises abruptly, and without looking at Mozart or applauding and leaves the Salon. Count Arco approaches the composer. Mozart turns to him, radiant. ARCO Follow me, please. The Archbishop would like a word. MOZART Certainly! He follows Arco out of the room, through a throng of admirers. INT. ANOTHER PALACE CORRIDOR - DAY - 1780'S Mozart and Arco walk side by side. They pass Salieri who is staring at Mozart in fascination. As they disappear, he steals toward the music stands, unable to help himself. MOZART Well, I think that went off remarkably well, don't you? ARCO Indeed. MOZART These Viennese certainly know good music when they hear it. ARCO His Grace is very angry with you. MOZART What do you mean? They arrive at the door of Colloredo's private apartment. ARCO You are to come in here and ask his pardon. Arco opens the door. INT. ARCHBISHOP'S PRIVATE ROOM - DAY - 1780'S The Archbishop is sitting, chatting to quests. Among them are several ladies. Arco approaches him obsequiously. ARCO Your Grace. COLLOREDO Ah, Mozart. Why? MOZART Why what, sir? COLLOREDO Why do I have to be humiliated in front of my guests by one of my own servants? MOZART Humiliated? COLLOREDO How much provocation am I to endure from you? The more license I allow you, the more you take. The company watches this scene, deeply interested. MOZART If His Grace is not satisfied with me, he can dismiss me. COLLOREDO I wish you to return immediately to Salzburg. Your father is waiting for you there patiently. I will speak to you further when I come. MOZART No, Your Grace! I mean with all humility, no. I would rather you dismissed me. It's obvious I don't satisfy. COLLOREDO Then try harder, Mozart. I have no intention of dismissing you. You will remain in my service and learn your place. Go now. He extends his hand to be kissed. Mozart does it with a furious grace, then leaves the room. As he opens the door we see: INT. PALACE CORRIDOR - DAY - 1780'S A group of people who have attended the concert, among them Constanze, are standing outside the private apartment. At sight of the composer they break into sustained applause. Mozart is suddenly delighted. He throws the door wide open so that the guests can see into the private apartment where the Archbishop sits

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Amadeus Script at IMSDb. var _gaq = _gaq || []; _gaq.push(['_setAccount', 'UA-3785444-3']); _gaq.push(['_trackPageview']); (function() { var ga = document.createElement('script'); ga.type = 'text/javascript'; ga.async = true; ga.src = ('https:' == document.location.protocol ? 'https://ssl' : 'http://www') + '.google-analytics.com/ga.js'; var s = document.getElementsByTagName('script')[0]; s.parentNode.insertBefore(ga, s); })(); The Internet Movie Script Database (IMSDb) The web's largest movie script resource! Search IMSDb Alphabetical # A B C D E F G H I J K L M N O P Q R S T U V W X Y Z Genre Action Adventure Animation Comedy Crime Drama Family Fantasy Film-Noir Horror Musical Mystery Romance Sci-Fi Short Thriller War Western Sponsor TV Transcripts Futurama Seinfeld South Park Stargate SG-1 Lost The 4400 International French scripts Movie Software Rip from DVD Rip Blu-Ray Latest Comments Star Wars: Revenge of the Sith10/10 Star Wars: The Force Awakens10/10 Batman Begins9/10 Collateral10/10 Jackie Brown8/10 Movie Chat Message Yell ! ALL SCRIPTS if (window!= top) top.location.href=location.href // --> AMADEUS "AMADEUS" by Peter Shaffer Final Draft INT. STAIRCASE OUTSIDE OLD SALIERI'S SALON - NIGHT - 1823 Total darkness. We hear an old man's voice, distinct and in distress. It is OLD SALIERI. He uses a mixture of English and occasionally Italian. OLD SALIERI Mozart! Mozart! Mozart. Forgive me! Forgive your assassin! Mozart! A faint light illuminates the screen. Flickeringly, we see an eighteenth century balustrade and a flight of stone stairs. We are looking down into the wall of the staircase from the point of view of the landing. Up the stair is coming a branched candlestick held by Salieri's VALET. By his side is Salieri's COOK, bearing a large dish of sugared cakes and biscuits. Both men are desperately worried: the Valet is thin and middle-aged; the Cook, plump and Italian. It is very cold. They wear shawls over their night-dresses and clogs on their feet. They wheeze as they climb. The candles throw their shadows up onto the peeling walls of the house, which is evidently an old one and in bad decay. A cat scuttles swiftly between their bare legs, as they reach the salon door. The Valet tries the handle. It is locked. Behind it the voice goes on, rising in volume. OLD SALIERI Show some mercy! I beg you. I beg you! Show mercy to a guilty man! The Valet knocks gently on the door. The voice stops. VALET Open the door, Signore! Please! Be good now! We've brought you something special. Something you're going to love. Silence. VALET Signore Salieri! Open the door. Come now. Be good! The voice of Old Salieri continues again, further off now, and louder. We hear a noise as if a window is being opened. OLD SALIERI Mozart! Mozart! I confess it! Listen! I confess! The two servants look at each other in alarm. Then the Valet hands the candlestick to the Cook and takes a sugared cake from the dish, scrambling as quickly as he can back down the stairs. EXT. THE STREET OUTSIDE SALIERI'S HOUSE - VIENNA - NIGHT The street is filled with people: ten cabs with drivers, five children, fifteen adults, two doormen, fifteen dancing couples and a sled and three dogs. It is a windy night. Snow is falling and whirling about. People are passing on foot, holding their cloaks tightly around them. Some of them are revelers in fancy dress: they wear masks on their faces or hanging around their necks, as if returning from parties. Now they are glancing up at the facade of the old house. The window above the street is open and Old Salieri stands there calling to the sky: a sharp-featured, white-haired Italian over seventy years old, wearing a stained dressing gown. OLD SALIERI Mozart! Mozart! I cannot bear it any longer! I confess! I confess what I did! I'm guilty! I killed you! Sir I confess! I killed you! The door of the house bursts open. The Valet hobbles out, holding the sugared cake. The wind catches at his shawl. OLD SALIERI Mozart, perdonami! Forgive your assassin! Piet ! Piet ! Forgive your assassin! Forgive me! Forgive! Forgive! VALET (looking up to the window) That's all right, Signore! He heard you! He forgave you! He wants you to go inside now and shut the window! Old Salieri stares down at him. Some of the passersby have now stopped and are watching this spectacle. VALET Come on, Signore! Look what I have for you! I can't give it to you from down here, can I? Old Salieri looks at him in contempt. Then he turns away back into the room, shutting the window with a bang. Through the glass, the old man stares down at the group of onlookers in the street. They stare back at him in confusion. BYSTANDER Who is that? VALET No one, sir. He'll be all right. Poor man. He's a little unhappy, you know. He makes a sign indicating 'crazy,' and goes back inside the house. The onlookers keep staring. CUT TO: INT. LANDING OUTSIDE OLD SALIERI'S SALON - NIGHT The Cook is standing holding the candlestick in one hand, the dish of cakes in the other. The Valet arrives, panting. VALET Did he open? The Cook, scared, shakes his head: no. The Valet again knocks on the door. VALET Here I am, Signore. Now open the door. He eats the sugared cake in his hand, elaborately and noisily. VALET Mmmm - this is good! This is the most delicious thing I ever ate, believe me! Signore, you don't know what you're missing! Mmmm! We hear a thump from inside the bedroom. VALET Now that's enough, Signore! Open! We hear a terrible, throaty groaning. VALET If you don't open this door, we're going to eat everything. There'll be nothing left for you. And I'm not going to bring you anything more. He looks down. From under the door we see a trickle of blood flowing. In horror, the two men stare at it. The dish of cakes falls from the Cook's hand and shatters. He sets the candlestick down on the floor. Both servants run at the door frantically - once, twice, three times - and the frail lock gives. The door flies open. Immediately, the stormy, frenzied opening of Mozart's Symphony No. 25 (the Little G Minor) begins. We see what the servants see. INT. OLD SALIERI'S SALON - NIGHT Old Salieri lies on the floor in a pool of blood, an open razor in his hand. He has cut his throat but is still alive. He gestures at them. They run to him. Barely, we glimpse the room - an old chair, old tables piled with books, a forte- piano, a chamber-pot on the floor - as the Valet and the Cook struggle to lift their old Master, and bind his bleeding throat with a napkin. INT. BALLROOM - NIGHT Twenty-five dancing couples, fifty guests, ten servants, full orchestra. As the music slows a little, we see a Masquerade Ball in progress. A crowded room of dancers is executing the slow portion of a dance fashionable in the early 1820's. EXT. STREET OUTSIDE SALIERI'S HOUSE - NIGHT As the fast music returns, we see Old Salieri being carried out of his house on a stretcher by two attendants, and placed in a horse-drawn wagon under the supervision of a middle- aged doctor in a tall hat. This is DOCTOR GULDEN. He gets in beside his patient. The driver whips up the horse, and the wagon dashes off through the still-falling snow. MONTAGE: EXT. FOUR STREETS OF VIENNA AND INT. THE WAGON - NIGHT The wagon is galloping through the snowy streets of the city. Inside the conveyance we see Old Salieri wrapped in blankets, half-conscious, being held by the hospital attendants. Doctor Gulden stares at him grimly. The wagon arrives outside the General Hospital of Vienna. CUT TO: INT. A HOSPITAL CORRIDOR - LATE AFTERNOON A wide, white-washed corridor. Doctor Gulden is walking down it with a priest, a man of about forty, concerned, but somewhat self-important. This is Father VOGLER, Chaplain at the hospital. In the corridor as they walk, we note several patients -- some of them visibly disturbed mentally. All patients wear white linen smocks. Doctor Gulden wears a dark frock-coat; Vogler, a cassock. DOCTOR GULDEN He's going to live. It's much harder to cut your throat than most people imagine. They stop outside a door. DOCTOR GULDEN Here we are. Do you wish me to come in with you? VOGLER No, Doctor. Thank you. Vogler nods and opens the door. INT. OLD SALIERI'S HOSPITAL ROOM - LATE AFTERNOON A bare room - one of the best available in the General Hospital. It contains a bed, a table with candles, chairs, a small forte-piano of the early nineteenth century. As Vogler enters, Old Salieri is sitting in a wheel-chair, looking out the window. His back is to us. The priest closes the door quietly behind him. VOGLER Herr Salieri? Old Salieri turns around to look at him. We see that his throat is bandaged expertly. He wears hospital garb, and over it the Civilian Medal and Chain with which we will later see the EMPEROR invest him. OLD SALIERI What do you want? VOGLER I am Father Vogler. I am a Chaplain here. I thought you might like to talk to someone. OLD SALIERI About what? VOGLER You tried to take your life. You do remember that, don't you? OLD SALIERI So? VOGLER In the sight of God that is a sin. OLD SALIERI What do you want? VOGLER Do you understand that you have sinned? Gravely. OLD SALIERI Leave me alone. VOGLER I cannot leave alone a soul in pain. OLD SALIERI Do you know who I am? You never heard of me, did you? VOGLER That makes no difference. All men are equal in God's eyes. OLD SALIERI Are they? VOGLER Offer me your confession. I can offer you God's forgiveness. OLD SALIERI I do not seek forgiveness. VOGLER My son, there is something dreadful on your soul. Unburden it to me. I'm here only for you. Please talk to me. OLD SALIERI How well are you trained in music? VOGLER I know a little. I studied it in my youth. OLD SALIERI Where? VOGLER Here in Vienna. OLD SALIERI Then you must know this. He propels his wheelchair to the forte-piano, and plays an unrecognizable melody. VOGLER I can't say I do. What is it? OLD SALIERI I'm surprised you don't know. It was a very popular tune in its day. I wrote it. How about this? He plays another tune. OLD SALIERI This one brought down the house when we played it first. He plays it with growing enthusiasm. CUT TO: INT. THE STAGE OF AN OPERA HOUSE - NIGHT - 1780'S We see the pretty soprano KATHERINA CAVALIERI, now about twenty-four, dressed in an elaborate mythological Persian costume, singing on stage. She's near the end of a very florid aria by Salieri. The audience applauds wildly. INT. OLD SALIERI'S HOSPITAL ROOM - LATE AFTERNOON - 1823 OLD SALIERI (taking his hands off the keys) Well? VOGLER I regret it is not too familiar. OLD SALIERI Can you recall no melody of mine? I was the most famous composer in Europe when you were still a boy. I wrote forty operas alone. What about this little thing? Slyly he plays the opening measure of Mozart's Eine Kleine Nachtmusik. The priest nods, smiling suddenly, and hums a little with the music. VOGLER Oh, I know that! That's charming! I didn't know you wrote that. OLD SALIERI I didn't. That was Mozart. Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart. You know who that is? VOGLER Of course. The man you accuse yourself of killing. OLD SALIERI Ah - you've heard that? VOGLER All Vienna has heard that. OLD SALIERI ( eagerly) And do they believe it? VOGLER Is it true? OLD SALIERI Do you believe it? VOGLER Should I? A very long pause. Salieri stares above the priest, seemingly lost in his own private world. VOGLER For God's sake, my son, if you have anything to confess, do it now! Give yourself some peace! A further pause. VOGLER Do you hear me? OLD SALIERI He was murdered, Father! Mozart! Cruelly murdered. Pause. VOGLER (almost whispering) Yes? Did you do it? Suddenly Old Salieri turns to him, a look of extreme innocence. OLD SALIERI He was my idol! I can't remember a time when I didn't know his name! When I was only fourteen he was already famous. Even in Legnago - the tiniest town in Italy - I knew of him. CUT TO: EXT. A SMALL TOWN SQUARE IN LOMBARDY, ITALY - DAY - 1780'S There are twelve children and twenty adults in the square. We see the fourteen-year-old Salieri blindfolded, playing a game of Blindman's Bluff with other Italian children, running about in the bright sunshine and laughing. OLD SALIERI (V.O.) I was still playing childish games when he was playing music for kings and emperors. Even the Pope in Rome! CUT TO: INT. A SALON IN THE VATICAN - DAY - 1780'S We see the six-year-old MOZART, also blindfolded, seated in a gilded chair on a pile of books, playing the harpsichord for the POPE and a suite of CARDINALS and other churchmen. Beside the little boy stands LEOPOLD, his father, smirking with pride. OLD SALIERI (V.O.) I admit I was jealous when I heard the tales they told about him. Not of the brilliant little prodigy himself, but of his father, who had taught him everything. The piece finishes. Leopold lowers the lid of the harpsichord and lifts up his little son to stand on it. Mozart removes the blindfold to show a pale little face with staring eyes. Both father and son bow. A Papal Chamberlain presents Leopold with a gold snuff box whilst the cardinals decorously applaud. Over this scene Old Salieri speaks. OLD SALIERI (V.O.) My father did not care for music. He wanted me only to be a merchant, like himself. As anonymous as he was. When I told how I wished I could be like Mozart, he would say, Why? Do you want to be a trained monkey? Would you like me to drag you around Europe doing tricks like a circus freak? How could I tell him what music meant to me? CUT TO: EXT. A COUNTRY CHURCH IN NORTH ITALY - DAY - 1780'S Serene music of the Italian Baroque - Pergolesi's Stabat Mater - sung by a choir of boys with organ accompaniment. We see the outside of the 17th-century church sitting in the wide landscape of Lombardy: sunlit fields, a dusty, white road, poplar trees. INT. THE CHURCH AT LEGNAGO - DAY - 1780'S The music continues and swells. We see the twelve-year-old Salieri seated between his plump and placid parents in the congregation, listening in rapture. His father is a heavy- looking, self-approving man, obviously indifferent to the music. A large and austere Christ on the cross hangs over the altar. Candles burn below his image. OLD SALIERI (V.O.) Even then a spray of sounded notes could make me dizzy, almost to falling. The boy falls forward on his knees. So do his parents and the other members of the congregation. He stares up at Christ who stares back at him. OLD SALIERI (V.O.) Whilst my father prayed earnestly to God to protect commerce, I would offer up secretly the proudest prayer a boy could think of. Lord, make me a great composer! Let me celebrate your glory through music - and be celebrated myself! Make me famous through the world, dear God! Make me immortal! After I die let people speak my name forever with love for what I wrote! In return I vow I will give you my chastity - my industry, my deepest humility, every hour of my life. And I will help my fellow man all I can. Amen and amen! The music swells to a crescendo. The candles flare. We see the Christ through the flames looking at the boy benignly. OLD SALIERI (V.O.) And do you know what happened? A miracle! INT. DINING ROOM IN THE SALIERI HOUSE - DAY - 1780'S CU, a large cooked fish on a thick china plate. Camera pulls back to show the Salieri family at dinner. Father Salieri sits at the head of the table, a napkin tucked into his chin. Mother Salieri is serving the fish into portions and handing them round. Two maiden aunts are in attendance, wearing black, and of course the young boy. Father Salieri receives his plate of fish and starts to eat greedily. Suddenly there is a gasp - he starts to choke violently on a fish bone. All the women get up and crowd around him, thumping and pummeling him, but it is in vain. Father Salieri collapses. INT. OLD SALIERI'S HOSPITAL ROOM - LATE AFTERNOON - 1823 OLD SALIERI Suddenly he was dead. Just like that! And my life changed forever. My mother said, Go. Study music if you really want to. Off with you! And off I went as quick as I could and never saw Italy again. Of course, I knew God had arranged it all; that was obvious. One moment I was a frustrated boy in an obscure little town. The next I was here, in Vienna, city of musicians, sixteen years old and studying under Gluck! Gluck, Father. Do you know who he was? The greatest composer of his time. And he loved me! That was the wonder. He taught me everything he knew. And when I was ready, introduced me personally to the Emperor! Emperor Joseph - the musical king! Within a few years I was his court composer. Wasn't that incredible? Imperial Composer to His Majesty! Actually the man had no ear at all, but what did it matter? He adored my music, that was enough. Night after night I sat right next to the Emperor of Austria, playing duets with him, correcting the royal sight-reading. Tell me, if you had been me, wouldn't you have thought God had accepted your vow? And believe me, I honoured it. I was a model of virtue. I kept my hands off women, worked hours every day teaching students, many of them for free, sitting on endless committees to help poor musicians - work and work and work, that was all my life. And it was wonderful! Everybody liked me. I liked myself. I was the most successful musician in Vienna. And the happiest. Till he came. Mozart. CUT TO: INT. THE ARCHBISHOP OF SALZBURG'S RESIDENCE - VIENNA - DAY - 1780'S A grand room crowded with guests. A small group of Gypsy musicians is playing in the background. Thirteen members of the Archbishop's orchestra - all wind players, complete with 18th-century wind instruments: elaborate-looking bassoons, basset horns, etc. and wearing their employer's livery - are laying out music on stands at one end of the room. At the other end is a large gilded chair, bearing the arms of the ARCHBISHOP OF SALZBURG. A throng of people is standing, talking, and preparing to sit upon the rows of waiting chairs to hear a concert. OLD SALIERI (V.O.) One day he came to Vienna to play some of his music at the residence of his employer, the Prince-Archbishop of Salzburg. Eagerly I went there to seek him out. That night changed my life. We see Salieri, age thirty-one, a neat, carefully turned-cut man in decent black clothes and clean white linen, walking through the crowd of guests. We follow him. OLD SALIERI (V.O.) As I went through the salon, I played a game with myself. This man had written his first concerto at the age of four; his first symphony at seven; a full-scale opera at twelve. Did it show? Is talent like that written on the face? We see shots of assorted young men staring back at Salieri as he moves through the crowd. OLD SALIERI (V.O.) Which one of them could he be? Some of the men recognize Salieri and bow respectfully. Then suddenly a servant bearing a large tray of cakes and pastries stalks past. Instantly riveted by the sight of such delights, Salieri follows him out of the Grand Salon. INT. A PALACE CORRIDOR - DAY - 1780'S The servant marches along bearing his tray of pastries aloft. Salieri follows him. The servant turns into: INT. BUFFET ROOM IN THE PALACE - DAY - 1780'S Salieri's POV: several tables, dressed to the floor with cloths are loaded with many plates of confectionery. It is, in fact, Salieri's idea of paradise! The servant puts his tray down on one of the tables and withdraws from the room. INT. A PALACE CORRIDOR - DAY - 1780'S Salieri turns away so as not to be noticed by the servant. As soon as the man disappears, Salieri sneaks into the buffet room. INT. BUFFET ROOM IN THE PALACE - DAY - 1780'S Salieri enters the room and looks about him cautiously. He is salivating with anticipation as he stares at the feast of sweet things. His attention is attracted in particular by a huge pile of dark chocolate balls arranged in the shape of a pineapple. He reaches out a hand to steal one of the balls, but at the same moment he hears giggling coming toward him. He ducks down behind the pastry table. A girl - CONSTANZE - rushes into the room. She runs straight across it and hides herself behind one of the tables. After a beat of total silence, MOZART runs into the room, stops, and looks around. He is age twenty-six, wearing a fine wig and a brilliant coat with the insignia of the Archbishop of Salzburg upon it. He is puzzled; Constanze has disappeared. Baffled, he turns and is about to leave the room, when Constanze suddenly squeaks from under the cloth like a tiny mouse. Instantly Mozart drops to all fours and starts crawling across the floor, meowing and hissing like a naughty cat. Watched by an astonished Salieri, Mozart disappears under the cloth and obviously pounces upon Constanze. We hear a high-pitched giggle, which is going to characterize Mozart throughout the film. CUT TO: INT. PALACE GRAND SALON - DAY - 1780'S The throng is mostly seated. The musicians are in their places, holding their various exotic-looking wind instruments; the candles are all lit. A Majordomo appears and bangs his staff on the floor for attention. Immediately COLLOREDO, Prince-Archbishop of Salzburg enters. He is a small self- important figure of fifty in a wig, surmounted by a scarlet skullcap. He is followed by his Chamberlain, the Count ARCO. Everyone stands. The Archbishop goes to his throne and sits. His guests sit also. Arco gives the signal to start the music. Nothing happens. Instead, a wind musician gets up, approaches the Chamberlain and whispers in his ear. Arco in turn whispers to the Archbishop. ARCO Mozart is not here. COLLOREDO Where is he? ARCO They're looking for him, Your Grace. INT. A PALACE CORRIDOR - DAY - 1780'S Three servants are opening doors and looking into rooms going off the corridor. CUT TO: INT. PALACE GRAND SALON - DAY - 1780'S The guests are turning around and looking at the Archbishop. The musicians are watching. There is puzzlement and a murmur of comment. The Archbishop tightens his lip. COLLOREDO (to Arco) We'll start without him. INT. PALACE BUFFET ROOM - DAY - 1780'S Mozart is on his knees before the tablecloth, which reaches to the floor. Under it is Constanze. We hear her giggling as he talks. MOZART Miaouw! Miaouw! Mouse-wouse? It's Puss-wuss, fangs-wangs. Paws-claws. Pounce-bounce! He grabs her ankle. She screams. He pulls her out by her leg. CONSTANZE Stop it. Stop it! They roll on the floor. He tickles her. CONSTANZE Stop it! MOZART I am! I am! I'm stopping it - slowly. You see! Look, I've stopped. Now we are going back. He tries to drag her back under the table. CONSTANZE No! No! No! MOZART Yes! Back! Back! Listen - don't you know where you are? CONSTANZE Where? MOZART We are in the Residence of the Fartsbishop of Salzburg. CONSTANZE Fartsbishop! She laughs delightedly, then addresses an imaginary Archbishop. CONSTANZE Your Grace, I've got something to tell you. I want to complain about this man. MOZART Go ahead, tell him. Tell them all. They won't understand you anyway. CONSTANZE Why not? MOZART Because here everything goes backwards. People walk backwards, dance backwards, sing backwards, and talk backwards. CONSTANZE That's stupid. MOZART Why? People fart backwards. CONSTANZE Do you think that's funny? MOZART Yes, I think it's brilliant. You've been doing it for years. He gives a high pitched giggle. CONSTANZE Oh, ha, ha, ha. MOZART Sra-I'm-sick! Sra-I'm sick! CONSTANZE Yes, you are. You're very sick. MOZART No, no. Say it backwards, shit-wit. Sra-I'm-sick Say it backwards! CONSTANZE (working it out) Sra-I'm-sick. Sick - kiss I'm - my Kiss my! Sra-I'm-sick - Kiss my arse! MOZART Em iram! Em iram! CONSTANZE No, I'm not playing this game. MOZART No, this is serious. Say it backwards. CONSTANZE No! MOZART Just say it - you'll see. It's very serious. Em iram! Em iram! CONSTANZE Iram - marry Em - marry me! No, no! You're a fiend. I'm not going to marry a fiend. A dirty fiend at that. MOZART Ui-vol-i-tub! CONSTANZE Tub - but i-tub - but I vol - love but I love ui - You. I love you! The mood becomes suddenly softer. She kisses him. They embrace. Then he spoils it. MOZART Tish-I'm tee. What's that? CONSTANZE What? MOZART Tish-I'm-tee. CONSTANZE Eat MOZART Yes. CONSTANZE Eat my - ah! Shocked, she strikes at him. At the same moment the music starts in the salon next door. We hear the opening of the Serenade for Thirteen Wind Instruments, K. MOZART My music! They've started! They've started without me! He leaps up, disheveled and rumpled and runs out of the room. Salieri watches in amazement and disgust. CUT TO: INT. PALACE CORRIDOR - DAY - 1780'S The music is louder. Mozart hastens towards the Grand Salon away from the buffet room, adjusting his dress as he goes. INT. GRAND SALON - DAY - 1780'S The opening of the Serenade is being tentatively conducted by the leader of the wind-musicians. Guests turn around as Mozart appears - bowing to the Archbishop - and walks with an attempt at dignity to the dais where the wind band is playing. The leader yields his place to the composer and Mozart smoothly takes over conducting. Constanze, deeply embarrassed, sneaks into the room and seats herself at the back. INT. PALACE BUFFET ROOM - DAY - 1780'S The music fades down. Salieri stands shocked from his inadvertent eavesdropping. After a second he moves almost in a trance toward the door; the music dissolves. INT. GRAND SALON - DAY - 1780'S Mozart is conducting the Adagio from his Serenade (K. 361), guiding the thirteen wind instrumentalists. The squeezebox opening of the movement begins. Salieri appears at the door at the back of the salon. He stares in disbelief at Mozart. OLD SALIERI (V.O.) So that was he! That giggling, dirty- minded creature I'd just seen crawling on the floor. Mozart. The phenomenon whose legend had haunted my youth. Impossible. The music swells up and Salieri listens to it with eyes closed - amazed, transported - suddenly engulfed by the sound. Finally it fades down and away and changes into applause. Salieri opens his eyes. The audience is clearly delighted. Mozart bows to them, also delighted. Colloredo rises abruptly, and without looking at Mozart or applauding and leaves the Salon. Count Arco approaches the composer. Mozart turns to him, radiant. ARCO Follow me, please. The Archbishop would like a word. MOZART Certainly! He follows Arco out of the room, through a throng of admirers. INT. ANOTHER PALACE CORRIDOR - DAY - 1780'S Mozart and Arco walk side by side. They pass Salieri who is staring at Mozart in fascination. As they disappear, he steals toward the music stands, unable to help himself. MOZART Well, I think that went off remarkably well, don't you? ARCO Indeed. MOZART These Viennese certainly know good music when they hear it. ARCO His Grace is very angry with you. MOZART What do you mean? They arrive at the door of Colloredo's private apartment. ARCO You are to come in here and ask his pardon. Arco opens the door. INT. ARCHBISHOP'S PRIVATE ROOM - DAY - 1780'S The Archbishop is sitting, chatting to quests. Among them are several ladies. Arco approaches him obsequiously. ARCO Your Grace. COLLOREDO Ah, Mozart. Why? MOZART Why what, sir? COLLOREDO Why do I have to be humiliated in front of my guests by one of my own servants? MOZART Humiliated? COLLOREDO How much provocation am I to endure from you? The more license I allow you, the more you take. The company watches this scene, deeply interested. MOZART If His Grace is not satisfied with me, he can dismiss me. COLLOREDO I wish you to return immediately to Salzburg. Your father is waiting for you there patiently. I will speak to you further when I come. MOZART No, Your Grace! I mean with all humility, no. I would rather you dismissed me. It's obvious I don't satisfy. COLLOREDO Then try harder, Mozart. I have no intention of dismissing you. You will remain in my service and learn your place. Go now. He extends his hand to be kissed. Mozart does it with a furious grace, then leaves the room. As he opens the door we see: INT. PALACE CORRIDOR - DAY - 1780'S A group of people who have attended the concert, among them Constanze, are standing outside the private apartment. At sight of the composer they break into sustained applause. Mozart is suddenly delighted. He throws the door wide open so that the guests can see into the private apartment where the Archbishop sits

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Search IMSDb Alphabetical # A B C D E F G H I J K L M N O P Q R S T U V W X Y Z Genre Action Adventure Animation Comedy Crime Drama Family Fantasy Film-Noir Horror Musical Mystery Romance Sci-Fi Short Thriller War Western Sponsor TV Transcripts Futurama Seinfeld South Park Stargate SG-1 Lost The 4400 International French scripts Movie Software Rip from DVD Rip Blu-Ray Latest Comments Star Wars: Revenge of the Sith10/10 Star Wars: The Force Awakens10/10 Batman Begins9/10 Collateral10/10 Jackie Brown8/10 Movie Chat Message Yell ! ALL SCRIPTS if (window!= top) top.location.href=location.href // --> AMADEUS "AMADEUS" by Peter Shaffer Final Draft INT. STAIRCASE OUTSIDE OLD SALIERI'S SALON - NIGHT - 1823 Total darkness. We hear an old man's voice, distinct and in distress. It is OLD SALIERI. He uses a mixture of English and occasionally Italian. OLD SALIERI Mozart! Mozart! Mozart. Forgive me! Forgive your assassin! Mozart! A faint light illuminates the screen. Flickeringly, we see an eighteenth century balustrade and a flight of stone stairs. We are looking down into the wall of the staircase from the point of view of the landing. Up the stair is coming a branched candlestick held by Salieri's VALET. By his side is Salieri's COOK, bearing a large dish of sugared cakes and biscuits. Both men are desperately worried: the Valet is thin and middle-aged; the Cook, plump and Italian. It is very cold. They wear shawls over their night-dresses and clogs on their feet. They wheeze as they climb. The candles throw their shadows up onto the peeling walls of the house, which is evidently an old one and in bad decay. A cat scuttles swiftly between their bare legs, as they reach the salon door. The Valet tries the handle. It is locked. Behind it the voice goes on, rising in volume. OLD SALIERI Show some mercy! I beg you. I beg you! Show mercy to a guilty man! The Valet knocks gently on the door. The voice stops. VALET Open the door, Signore! Please! Be good now! We've brought you something special. Something you're going to love. Silence. VALET Signore Salieri! Open the door. Come now. Be good! The voice of Old Salieri continues again, further off now, and louder. We hear a noise as if a window is being opened. OLD SALIERI Mozart! Mozart! I confess it! Listen! I confess! The two servants look at each other in alarm. Then the Valet hands the candlestick to the Cook and takes a sugared cake from the dish, scrambling as quickly as he can back down the stairs. EXT. THE STREET OUTSIDE SALIERI'S HOUSE - VIENNA - NIGHT The street is filled with people: ten cabs with drivers, five children, fifteen adults, two doormen, fifteen dancing couples and a sled and three dogs. It is a windy night. Snow is falling and whirling about. People are passing on foot, holding their cloaks tightly around them. Some of them are revelers in fancy dress: they wear masks on their faces or hanging around their necks, as if returning from parties. Now they are glancing up at the facade of the old house. The window above the street is open and Old Salieri stands there calling to the sky: a sharp-featured, white-haired Italian over seventy years old, wearing a stained dressing gown. OLD SALIERI Mozart! Mozart! I cannot bear it any longer! I confess! I confess what I did! I'm guilty! I killed you! Sir I confess! I killed you! The door of the house bursts open. The Valet hobbles out, holding the sugared cake. The wind catches at his shawl. OLD SALIERI Mozart, perdonami! Forgive your assassin! Piet ! Piet ! Forgive your assassin! Forgive me! Forgive! Forgive! VALET (looking up to the window) That's all right, Signore! He heard you! He forgave you! He wants you to go inside now and shut the window! Old Salieri stares down at him. Some of the passersby have now stopped and are watching this spectacle. VALET Come on, Signore! Look what I have for you! I can't give it to you from down here, can I? Old Salieri looks at him in contempt. Then he turns away back into the room, shutting the window with a bang. Through the glass, the old man stares down at the group of onlookers in the street. They stare back at him in confusion. BYSTANDER Who is that? VALET No one, sir. He'll be all right. Poor man. He's a little unhappy, you know. He makes a sign indicating 'crazy,' and goes back inside the house. The onlookers keep staring. CUT TO: INT. LANDING OUTSIDE OLD SALIERI'S SALON - NIGHT The Cook is standing holding the candlestick in one hand, the dish of cakes in the other. The Valet arrives, panting. VALET Did he open? The Cook, scared, shakes his head: no. The Valet again knocks on the door. VALET Here I am, Signore. Now open the door. He eats the sugared cake in his hand, elaborately and noisily. VALET Mmmm - this is good! This is the most delicious thing I ever ate, believe me! Signore, you don't know what you're missing! Mmmm! We hear a thump from inside the bedroom. VALET Now that's enough, Signore! Open! We hear a terrible, throaty groaning. VALET If you don't open this door, we're going to eat everything. There'll be nothing left for you. And I'm not going to bring you anything more. He looks down. From under the door we see a trickle of blood flowing. In horror, the two men stare at it. The dish of cakes falls from the Cook's hand and shatters. He sets the candlestick down on the floor. Both servants run at the door frantically - once, twice, three times - and the frail lock gives. The door flies open. Immediately, the stormy, frenzied opening of Mozart's Symphony No. 25 (the Little G Minor) begins. We see what the servants see. INT. OLD SALIERI'S SALON - NIGHT Old Salieri lies on the floor in a pool of blood, an open razor in his hand. He has cut his throat but is still alive. He gestures at them. They run to him. Barely, we glimpse the room - an old chair, old tables piled with books, a forte- piano, a chamber-pot on the floor - as the Valet and the Cook struggle to lift their old Master, and bind his bleeding throat with a napkin. INT. BALLROOM - NIGHT Twenty-five dancing couples, fifty guests, ten servants, full orchestra. As the music slows a little, we see a Masquerade Ball in progress. A crowded room of dancers is executing the slow portion of a dance fashionable in the early 1820's. EXT. STREET OUTSIDE SALIERI'S HOUSE - NIGHT As the fast music returns, we see Old Salieri being carried out of his house on a stretcher by two attendants, and placed in a horse-drawn wagon under the supervision of a middle- aged doctor in a tall hat. This is DOCTOR GULDEN. He gets in beside his patient. The driver whips up the horse, and the wagon dashes off through the still-falling snow. MONTAGE: EXT. FOUR STREETS OF VIENNA AND INT. THE WAGON - NIGHT The wagon is galloping through the snowy streets of the city. Inside the conveyance we see Old Salieri wrapped in blankets, half-conscious, being held by the hospital attendants. Doctor Gulden stares at him grimly. The wagon arrives outside the General Hospital of Vienna. CUT TO: INT. A HOSPITAL CORRIDOR - LATE AFTERNOON A wide, white-washed corridor. Doctor Gulden is walking down it with a priest, a man of about forty, concerned, but somewhat self-important. This is Father VOGLER, Chaplain at the hospital. In the corridor as they walk, we note several patients -- some of them visibly disturbed mentally. All patients wear white linen smocks. Doctor Gulden wears a dark frock-coat; Vogler, a cassock. DOCTOR GULDEN He's going to live. It's much harder to cut your throat than most people imagine. They stop outside a door. DOCTOR GULDEN Here we are. Do you wish me to come in with you? VOGLER No, Doctor. Thank you. Vogler nods and opens the door. INT. OLD SALIERI'S HOSPITAL ROOM - LATE AFTERNOON A bare room - one of the best available in the General Hospital. It contains a bed, a table with candles, chairs, a small forte-piano of the early nineteenth century. As Vogler enters, Old Salieri is sitting in a wheel-chair, looking out the window. His back is to us. The priest closes the door quietly behind him. VOGLER Herr Salieri? Old Salieri turns around to look at him. We see that his throat is bandaged expertly. He wears hospital garb, and over it the Civilian Medal and Chain with which we will later see the EMPEROR invest him. OLD SALIERI What do you want? VOGLER I am Father Vogler. I am a Chaplain here. I thought you might like to talk to someone. OLD SALIERI About what? VOGLER You tried to take your life. You do remember that, don't you? OLD SALIERI So? VOGLER In the sight of God that is a sin. OLD SALIERI What do you want? VOGLER Do you understand that you have sinned? Gravely. OLD SALIERI Leave me alone. VOGLER I cannot leave alone a soul in pain. OLD SALIERI Do you know who I am? You never heard of me, did you? VOGLER That makes no difference. All men are equal in God's eyes. OLD SALIERI Are they? VOGLER Offer me your confession. I can offer you God's forgiveness. OLD SALIERI I do not seek forgiveness. VOGLER My son, there is something dreadful on your soul. Unburden it to me. I'm here only for you. Please talk to me. OLD SALIERI How well are you trained in music? VOGLER I know a little. I studied it in my youth. OLD SALIERI Where? VOGLER Here in Vienna. OLD SALIERI Then you must know this. He propels his wheelchair to the forte-piano, and plays an unrecognizable melody. VOGLER I can't say I do. What is it? OLD SALIERI I'm surprised you don't know. It was a very popular tune in its day. I wrote it. How about this? He plays another tune. OLD SALIERI This one brought down the house when we played it first. He plays it with growing enthusiasm. CUT TO: INT. THE STAGE OF AN OPERA HOUSE - NIGHT - 1780'S We see the pretty soprano KATHERINA CAVALIERI, now about twenty-four, dressed in an elaborate mythological Persian costume, singing on stage. She's near the end of a very florid aria by Salieri. The audience applauds wildly. INT. OLD SALIERI'S HOSPITAL ROOM - LATE AFTERNOON - 1823 OLD SALIERI (taking his hands off the keys) Well? VOGLER I regret it is not too familiar. OLD SALIERI Can you recall no melody of mine? I was the most famous composer in Europe when you were still a boy. I wrote forty operas alone. What about this little thing? Slyly he plays the opening measure of Mozart's Eine Kleine Nachtmusik. The priest nods, smiling suddenly, and hums a little with the music. VOGLER Oh, I know that! That's charming! I didn't know you wrote that. OLD SALIERI I didn't. That was Mozart. Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart. You know who that is? VOGLER Of course. The man you accuse yourself of killing. OLD SALIERI Ah - you've heard that? VOGLER All Vienna has heard that. OLD SALIERI ( eagerly) And do they believe it? VOGLER Is it true? OLD SALIERI Do you believe it? VOGLER Should I? A very long pause. Salieri stares above the priest, seemingly lost in his own private world. VOGLER For God's sake, my son, if you have anything to confess, do it now! Give yourself some peace! A further pause. VOGLER Do you hear me? OLD SALIERI He was murdered, Father! Mozart! Cruelly murdered. Pause. VOGLER (almost whispering) Yes? Did you do it? Suddenly Old Salieri turns to him, a look of extreme innocence. OLD SALIERI He was my idol! I can't remember a time when I didn't know his name! When I was only fourteen he was already famous. Even in Legnago - the tiniest town in Italy - I knew of him. CUT TO: EXT. A SMALL TOWN SQUARE IN LOMBARDY, ITALY - DAY - 1780'S There are twelve children and twenty adults in the square. We see the fourteen-year-old Salieri blindfolded, playing a game of Blindman's Bluff with other Italian children, running about in the bright sunshine and laughing. OLD SALIERI (V.O.) I was still playing childish games when he was playing music for kings and emperors. Even the Pope in Rome! CUT TO: INT. A SALON IN THE VATICAN - DAY - 1780'S We see the six-year-old MOZART, also blindfolded, seated in a gilded chair on a pile of books, playing the harpsichord for the POPE and a suite of CARDINALS and other churchmen. Beside the little boy stands LEOPOLD, his father, smirking with pride. OLD SALIERI (V.O.) I admit I was jealous when I heard the tales they told about him. Not of the brilliant little prodigy himself, but of his father, who had taught him everything. The piece finishes. Leopold lowers the lid of the harpsichord and lifts up his little son to stand on it. Mozart removes the blindfold to show a pale little face with staring eyes. Both father and son bow. A Papal Chamberlain presents Leopold with a gold snuff box whilst the cardinals decorously applaud. Over this scene Old Salieri speaks. OLD SALIERI (V.O.) My father did not care for music. He wanted me only to be a merchant, like himself. As anonymous as he was. When I told how I wished I could be like Mozart, he would say, Why? Do you want to be a trained monkey? Would you like me to drag you around Europe doing tricks like a circus freak? How could I tell him what music meant to me? CUT TO: EXT. A COUNTRY CHURCH IN NORTH ITALY - DAY - 1780'S Serene music of the Italian Baroque - Pergolesi's Stabat Mater - sung by a choir of boys with organ accompaniment. We see the outside of the 17th-century church sitting in the wide landscape of Lombardy: sunlit fields, a dusty, white road, poplar trees. INT. THE CHURCH AT LEGNAGO - DAY - 1780'S The music continues and swells. We see the twelve-year-old Salieri seated between his plump and placid parents in the congregation, listening in rapture. His father is a heavy- looking, self-approving man, obviously indifferent to the music. A large and austere Christ on the cross hangs over the altar. Candles burn below his image. OLD SALIERI (V.O.) Even then a spray of sounded notes could make me dizzy, almost to falling. The boy falls forward on his knees. So do his parents and the other members of the congregation. He stares up at Christ who stares back at him. OLD SALIERI (V.O.) Whilst my father prayed earnestly to God to protect commerce, I would offer up secretly the proudest prayer a boy could think of. Lord, make me a great composer! Let me celebrate your glory through music - and be celebrated myself! Make me famous through the world, dear God! Make me immortal! After I die let people speak my name forever with love for what I wrote! In return I vow I will give you my chastity - my industry, my deepest humility, every hour of my life. And I will help my fellow man all I can. Amen and amen! The music swells to a crescendo. The candles flare. We see the Christ through the flames looking at the boy benignly. OLD SALIERI (V.O.) And do you know what happened? A miracle! INT. DINING ROOM IN THE SALIERI HOUSE - DAY - 1780'S CU, a large cooked fish on a thick china plate. Camera pulls back to show the Salieri family at dinner. Father Salieri sits at the head of the table, a napkin tucked into his chin. Mother Salieri is serving the fish into portions and handing them round. Two maiden aunts are in attendance, wearing black, and of course the young boy. Father Salieri receives his plate of fish and starts to eat greedily. Suddenly there is a gasp - he starts to choke violently on a fish bone. All the women get up and crowd around him, thumping and pummeling him, but it is in vain. Father Salieri collapses. INT. OLD SALIERI'S HOSPITAL ROOM - LATE AFTERNOON - 1823 OLD SALIERI Suddenly he was dead. Just like that! And my life changed forever. My mother said, Go. Study music if you really want to. Off with you! And off I went as quick as I could and never saw Italy again. Of course, I knew God had arranged it all; that was obvious. One moment I was a frustrated boy in an obscure little town. The next I was here, in Vienna, city of musicians, sixteen years old and studying under Gluck! Gluck, Father. Do you know who he was? The greatest composer of his time. And he loved me! That was the wonder. He taught me everything he knew. And when I was ready, introduced me personally to the Emperor! Emperor Joseph - the musical king! Within a few years I was his court composer. Wasn't that incredible? Imperial Composer to His Majesty! Actually the man had no ear at all, but what did it matter? He adored my music, that was enough. Night after night I sat right next to the Emperor of Austria, playing duets with him, correcting the royal sight-reading. Tell me, if you had been me, wouldn't you have thought God had accepted your vow? And believe me, I honoured it. I was a model of virtue. I kept my hands off women, worked hours every day teaching students, many of them for free, sitting on endless committees to help poor musicians - work and work and work, that was all my life. And it was wonderful! Everybody liked me. I liked myself. I was the most successful musician in Vienna. And the happiest. Till he came. Mozart. CUT TO: INT. THE ARCHBISHOP OF SALZBURG'S RESIDENCE - VIENNA - DAY - 1780'S A grand room crowded with guests. A small group of Gypsy musicians is playing in the background. Thirteen members of the Archbishop's orchestra - all wind players, complete with 18th-century wind instruments: elaborate-looking bassoons, basset horns, etc. and wearing their employer's livery - are laying out music on stands at one end of the room. At the other end is a large gilded chair, bearing the arms of the ARCHBISHOP OF SALZBURG. A throng of people is standing, talking, and preparing to sit upon the rows of waiting chairs to hear a concert. OLD SALIERI (V.O.) One day he came to Vienna to play some of his music at the residence of his employer, the Prince-Archbishop of Salzburg. Eagerly I went there to seek him out. That night changed my life. We see Salieri, age thirty-one, a neat, carefully turned-cut man in decent black clothes and clean white linen, walking through the crowd of guests. We follow him. OLD SALIERI (V.O.) As I went through the salon, I played a game with myself. This man had written his first concerto at the age of four; his first symphony at seven; a full-scale opera at twelve. Did it show? Is talent like that written on the face? We see shots of assorted young men staring back at Salieri as he moves through the crowd. OLD SALIERI (V.O.) Which one of them could he be? Some of the men recognize Salieri and bow respectfully. Then suddenly a servant bearing a large tray of cakes and pastries stalks past. Instantly riveted by the sight of such delights, Salieri follows him out of the Grand Salon. INT. A PALACE CORRIDOR - DAY - 1780'S The servant marches along bearing his tray of pastries aloft. Salieri follows him. The servant turns into: INT. BUFFET ROOM IN THE PALACE - DAY - 1780'S Salieri's POV: several tables, dressed to the floor with cloths are loaded with many plates of confectionery. It is, in fact, Salieri's idea of paradise! The servant puts his tray down on one of the tables and withdraws from the room. INT. A PALACE CORRIDOR - DAY - 1780'S Salieri turns away so as not to be noticed by the servant. As soon as the man disappears, Salieri sneaks into the buffet room. INT. BUFFET ROOM IN THE PALACE - DAY - 1780'S Salieri enters the room and looks about him cautiously. He is salivating with anticipation as he stares at the feast of sweet things. His attention is attracted in particular by a huge pile of dark chocolate balls arranged in the shape of a pineapple. He reaches out a hand to steal one of the balls, but at the same moment he hears giggling coming toward him. He ducks down behind the pastry table. A girl - CONSTANZE - rushes into the room. She runs straight across it and hides herself behind one of the tables. After a beat of total silence, MOZART runs into the room, stops, and looks around. He is age twenty-six, wearing a fine wig and a brilliant coat with the insignia of the Archbishop of Salzburg upon it. He is puzzled; Constanze has disappeared. Baffled, he turns and is about to leave the room, when Constanze suddenly squeaks from under the cloth like a tiny mouse. Instantly Mozart drops to all fours and starts crawling across the floor, meowing and hissing like a naughty cat. Watched by an astonished Salieri, Mozart disappears under the cloth and obviously pounces upon Constanze. We hear a high-pitched giggle, which is going to characterize Mozart throughout the film. CUT TO: INT. PALACE GRAND SALON - DAY - 1780'S The throng is mostly seated. The musicians are in their places, holding their various exotic-looking wind instruments; the candles are all lit. A Majordomo appears and bangs his staff on the floor for attention. Immediately COLLOREDO, Prince-Archbishop of Salzburg enters. He is a small self- important figure of fifty in a wig, surmounted by a scarlet skullcap. He is followed by his Chamberlain, the Count ARCO. Everyone stands. The Archbishop goes to his throne and sits. His guests sit also. Arco gives the signal to start the music. Nothing happens. Instead, a wind musician gets up, approaches the Chamberlain and whispers in his ear. Arco in turn whispers to the Archbishop. ARCO Mozart is not here. COLLOREDO Where is he? ARCO They're looking for him, Your Grace. INT. A PALACE CORRIDOR - DAY - 1780'S Three servants are opening doors and looking into rooms going off the corridor. CUT TO: INT. PALACE GRAND SALON - DAY - 1780'S The guests are turning around and looking at the Archbishop. The musicians are watching. There is puzzlement and a murmur of comment. The Archbishop tightens his lip. COLLOREDO (to Arco) We'll start without him. INT. PALACE BUFFET ROOM - DAY - 1780'S Mozart is on his knees before the tablecloth, which reaches to the floor. Under it is Constanze. We hear her giggling as he talks. MOZART Miaouw! Miaouw! Mouse-wouse? It's Puss-wuss, fangs-wangs. Paws-claws. Pounce-bounce! He grabs her ankle. She screams. He pulls her out by her leg. CONSTANZE Stop it. Stop it! They roll on the floor. He tickles her. CONSTANZE Stop it! MOZART I am! I am! I'm stopping it - slowly. You see! Look, I've stopped. Now we are going back. He tries to drag her back under the table. CONSTANZE No! No! No! MOZART Yes! Back! Back! Listen - don't you know where you are? CONSTANZE Where? MOZART We are in the Residence of the Fartsbishop of Salzburg. CONSTANZE Fartsbishop! She laughs delightedly, then addresses an imaginary Archbishop. CONSTANZE Your Grace, I've got something to tell you. I want to complain about this man. MOZART Go ahead, tell him. Tell them all. They won't understand you anyway. CONSTANZE Why not? MOZART Because here everything goes backwards. People walk backwards, dance backwards, sing backwards, and talk backwards. CONSTANZE That's stupid. MOZART Why? People fart backwards. CONSTANZE Do you think that's funny? MOZART Yes, I think it's brilliant. You've been doing it for years. He gives a high pitched giggle. CONSTANZE Oh, ha, ha, ha. MOZART Sra-I'm-sick! Sra-I'm sick! CONSTANZE Yes, you are. You're very sick. MOZART No, no. Say it backwards, shit-wit. Sra-I'm-sick Say it backwards! CONSTANZE (working it out) Sra-I'm-sick. Sick - kiss I'm - my Kiss my! Sra-I'm-sick - Kiss my arse! MOZART Em iram! Em iram! CONSTANZE No, I'm not playing this game. MOZART No, this is serious. Say it backwards. CONSTANZE No! MOZART Just say it - you'll see. It's very serious. Em iram! Em iram! CONSTANZE Iram - marry Em - marry me! No, no! You're a fiend. I'm not going to marry a fiend. A dirty fiend at that. MOZART Ui-vol-i-tub! CONSTANZE Tub - but i-tub - but I vol - love but I love ui - You. I love you! The mood becomes suddenly softer. She kisses him. They embrace. Then he spoils it. MOZART Tish-I'm tee. What's that? CONSTANZE What? MOZART Tish-I'm-tee. CONSTANZE Eat MOZART Yes. CONSTANZE Eat my - ah! Shocked, she strikes at him. At the same moment the music starts in the salon next door. We hear the opening of the Serenade for Thirteen Wind Instruments, K. MOZART My music! They've started! They've started without me! He leaps up, disheveled and rumpled and runs out of the room. Salieri watches in amazement and disgust. CUT TO: INT. PALACE CORRIDOR - DAY - 1780'S The music is louder. Mozart hastens towards the Grand Salon away from the buffet room, adjusting his dress as he goes. INT. GRAND SALON - DAY - 1780'S The opening of the Serenade is being tentatively conducted by the leader of the wind-musicians. Guests turn around as Mozart appears - bowing to the Archbishop - and walks with an attempt at dignity to the dais where the wind band is playing. The leader yields his place to the composer and Mozart smoothly takes over conducting. Constanze, deeply embarrassed, sneaks into the room and seats herself at the back. INT. PALACE BUFFET ROOM - DAY - 1780'S The music fades down. Salieri stands shocked from his inadvertent eavesdropping. After a second he moves almost in a trance toward the door; the music dissolves. INT. GRAND SALON - DAY - 1780'S Mozart is conducting the Adagio from his Serenade (K. 361), guiding the thirteen wind instrumentalists. The squeezebox opening of the movement begins. Salieri appears at the door at the back of the salon. He stares in disbelief at Mozart. OLD SALIERI (V.O.) So that was he! That giggling, dirty- minded creature I'd just seen crawling on the floor. Mozart. The phenomenon whose legend had haunted my youth. Impossible. The music swells up and Salieri listens to it with eyes closed - amazed, transported - suddenly engulfed by the sound. Finally it fades down and away and changes into applause. Salieri opens his eyes. The audience is clearly delighted. Mozart bows to them, also delighted. Colloredo rises abruptly, and without looking at Mozart or applauding and leaves the Salon. Count Arco approaches the composer. Mozart turns to him, radiant. ARCO Follow me, please. The Archbishop would like a word. MOZART Certainly! He follows Arco out of the room, through a throng of admirers. INT. ANOTHER PALACE CORRIDOR - DAY - 1780'S Mozart and Arco walk side by side. They pass Salieri who is staring at Mozart in fascination. As they disappear, he steals toward the music stands, unable to help himself. MOZART Well, I think that went off remarkably well, don't you? ARCO Indeed. MOZART These Viennese certainly know good music when they hear it. ARCO His Grace is very angry with you. MOZART What do you mean? They arrive at the door of Colloredo's private apartment. ARCO You are to come in here and ask his pardon. Arco opens the door. INT. ARCHBISHOP'S PRIVATE ROOM - DAY - 1780'S The Archbishop is sitting, chatting to quests. Among them are several ladies. Arco approaches him obsequiously. ARCO Your Grace. COLLOREDO Ah, Mozart. Why? MOZART Why what, sir? COLLOREDO Why do I have to be humiliated in front of my guests by one of my own servants? MOZART Humiliated? COLLOREDO How much provocation am I to endure from you? The more license I allow you, the more you take. The company watches this scene, deeply interested. MOZART If His Grace is not satisfied with me, he can dismiss me. COLLOREDO I wish you to return immediately to Salzburg. Your father is waiting for you there patiently. I will speak to you further when I come. MOZART No, Your Grace! I mean with all humility, no. I would rather you dismissed me. It's obvious I don't satisfy. COLLOREDO Then try harder, Mozart. I have no intention of dismissing you. You will remain in my service and learn your place. Go now. He extends his hand to be kissed. Mozart does it with a furious grace, then leaves the room. As he opens the door we see: INT. PALACE CORRIDOR - DAY - 1780'S A group of people who have attended the concert, among them Constanze, are standing outside the private apartment. At sight of the composer they break into sustained applause. Mozart is suddenly delighted. He throws the door wide open so that the guests can see into the private apartment where the Archbishop sits

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Amadeus Script at IMSDb. var _gaq = _gaq || []; _gaq.push(['_setAccount', 'UA-3785444-3']); _gaq.push(['_trackPageview']); (function() { var ga = document.createElement('script'); ga.type = 'text/javascript'; ga.async = true; ga.src = ('https:' == document.location.protocol ? 'https://ssl' : 'http://www') + '.google-analytics.com/ga.js'; var s = document.getElementsByTagName('script')[0]; s.parentNode.insertBefore(ga, s); })(); The Internet Movie Script Database (IMSDb) The web's largest movie script resource! Search IMSDb Alphabetical # A B C D E F G H I J K L M N O P Q R S T U V W X Y Z Genre Action Adventure Animation Comedy Crime Drama Family Fantasy Film-Noir Horror Musical Mystery Romance Sci-Fi Short Thriller War Western Sponsor TV Transcripts Futurama Seinfeld South Park Stargate SG-1 Lost The 4400 International French scripts Movie Software Rip from DVD Rip Blu-Ray Latest Comments Star Wars: Revenge of the Sith10/10 Star Wars: The Force Awakens10/10 Batman Begins9/10 Collateral10/10 Jackie Brown8/10 Movie Chat Message Yell ! ALL SCRIPTS if (window!= top) top.location.href=location.href // --> AMADEUS "AMADEUS" by Peter Shaffer Final Draft INT. STAIRCASE OUTSIDE OLD SALIERI'S SALON - NIGHT - 1823 Total darkness. We hear an old man's voice, distinct and in distress. It is OLD SALIERI. He uses a mixture of English and occasionally Italian. OLD SALIERI Mozart! Mozart! Mozart. Forgive me! Forgive your assassin! Mozart! A faint light illuminates the screen. Flickeringly, we see an eighteenth century balustrade and a flight of stone stairs. We are looking down into the wall of the staircase from the point of view of the landing. Up the stair is coming a branched candlestick held by Salieri's VALET. By his side is Salieri's COOK, bearing a large dish of sugared cakes and biscuits. Both men are desperately worried: the Valet is thin and middle-aged; the Cook, plump and Italian. It is very cold. They wear shawls over their night-dresses and clogs on their feet. They wheeze as they climb. The candles throw their shadows up onto the peeling walls of the house, which is evidently an old one and in bad decay. A cat scuttles swiftly between their bare legs, as they reach the salon door. The Valet tries the handle. It is locked. Behind it the voice goes on, rising in volume. OLD SALIERI Show some mercy! I beg you. I beg you! Show mercy to a guilty man! The Valet knocks gently on the door. The voice stops. VALET Open the door, Signore! Please! Be good now! We've brought you something special. Something you're going to love. Silence. VALET Signore Salieri! Open the door. Come now. Be good! The voice of Old Salieri continues again, further off now, and louder. We hear a noise as if a window is being opened. OLD SALIERI Mozart! Mozart! I confess it! Listen! I confess! The two servants look at each other in alarm. Then the Valet hands the candlestick to the Cook and takes a sugared cake from the dish, scrambling as quickly as he can back down the stairs. EXT. THE STREET OUTSIDE SALIERI'S HOUSE - VIENNA - NIGHT The street is filled with people: ten cabs with drivers, five children, fifteen adults, two doormen, fifteen dancing couples and a sled and three dogs. It is a windy night. Snow is falling and whirling about. People are passing on foot, holding their cloaks tightly around them. Some of them are revelers in fancy dress: they wear masks on their faces or hanging around their necks, as if returning from parties. Now they are glancing up at the facade of the old house. The window above the street is open and Old Salieri stands there calling to the sky: a sharp-featured, white-haired Italian over seventy years old, wearing a stained dressing gown. OLD SALIERI Mozart! Mozart! I cannot bear it any longer! I confess! I confess what I did! I'm guilty! I killed you! Sir I confess! I killed you! The door of the house bursts open. The Valet hobbles out, holding the sugared cake. The wind catches at his shawl. OLD SALIERI Mozart, perdonami! Forgive your assassin! Piet ! Piet ! Forgive your assassin! Forgive me! Forgive! Forgive! VALET (looking up to the window) That's all right, Signore! He heard you! He forgave you! He wants you to go inside now and shut the window! Old Salieri stares down at him. Some of the passersby have now stopped and are watching this spectacle. VALET Come on, Signore! Look what I have for you! I can't give it to you from down here, can I? Old Salieri looks at him in contempt. Then he turns away back into the room, shutting the window with a bang. Through the glass, the old man stares down at the group of onlookers in the street. They stare back at him in confusion. BYSTANDER Who is that? VALET No one, sir. He'll be all right. Poor man. He's a little unhappy, you know. He makes a sign indicating 'crazy,' and goes back inside the house. The onlookers keep staring. CUT TO: INT. LANDING OUTSIDE OLD SALIERI'S SALON - NIGHT The Cook is standing holding the candlestick in one hand, the dish of cakes in the other. The Valet arrives, panting. VALET Did he open? The Cook, scared, shakes his head: no. The Valet again knocks on the door. VALET Here I am, Signore. Now open the door. He eats the sugared cake in his hand, elaborately and noisily. VALET Mmmm - this is good! This is the most delicious thing I ever ate, believe me! Signore, you don't know what you're missing! Mmmm! We hear a thump from inside the bedroom. VALET Now that's enough, Signore! Open! We hear a terrible, throaty groaning. VALET If you don't open this door, we're going to eat everything. There'll be nothing left for you. And I'm not going to bring you anything more. He looks down. From under the door we see a trickle of blood flowing. In horror, the two men stare at it. The dish of cakes falls from the Cook's hand and shatters. He sets the candlestick down on the floor. Both servants run at the door frantically - once, twice, three times - and the frail lock gives. The door flies open. Immediately, the stormy, frenzied opening of Mozart's Symphony No. 25 (the Little G Minor) begins. We see what the servants see. INT. OLD SALIERI'S SALON - NIGHT Old Salieri lies on the floor in a pool of blood, an open razor in his hand. He has cut his throat but is still alive. He gestures at them. They run to him. Barely, we glimpse the room - an old chair, old tables piled with books, a forte- piano, a chamber-pot on the floor - as the Valet and the Cook struggle to lift their old Master, and bind his bleeding throat with a napkin. INT. BALLROOM - NIGHT Twenty-five dancing couples, fifty guests, ten servants, full orchestra. As the music slows a little, we see a Masquerade Ball in progress. A crowded room of dancers is executing the slow portion of a dance fashionable in the early 1820's. EXT. STREET OUTSIDE SALIERI'S HOUSE - NIGHT As the fast music returns, we see Old Salieri being carried out of his house on a stretcher by two attendants, and placed in a horse-drawn wagon under the supervision of a middle- aged doctor in a tall hat. This is DOCTOR GULDEN. He gets in beside his patient. The driver whips up the horse, and the wagon dashes off through the still-falling snow. MONTAGE: EXT. FOUR STREETS OF VIENNA AND INT. THE WAGON - NIGHT The wagon is galloping through the snowy streets of the city. Inside the conveyance we see Old Salieri wrapped in blankets, half-conscious, being held by the hospital attendants. Doctor Gulden stares at him grimly. The wagon arrives outside the General Hospital of Vienna. CUT TO: INT. A HOSPITAL CORRIDOR - LATE AFTERNOON A wide, white-washed corridor. Doctor Gulden is walking down it with a priest, a man of about forty, concerned, but somewhat self-important. This is Father VOGLER, Chaplain at the hospital. In the corridor as they walk, we note several patients -- some of them visibly disturbed mentally. All patients wear white linen smocks. Doctor Gulden wears a dark frock-coat; Vogler, a cassock. DOCTOR GULDEN He's going to live. It's much harder to cut your throat than most people imagine. They stop outside a door. DOCTOR GULDEN Here we are. Do you wish me to come in with you? VOGLER No, Doctor. Thank you. Vogler nods and opens the door. INT. OLD SALIERI'S HOSPITAL ROOM - LATE AFTERNOON A bare room - one of the best available in the General Hospital. It contains a bed, a table with candles, chairs, a small forte-piano of the early nineteenth century. As Vogler enters, Old Salieri is sitting in a wheel-chair, looking out the window. His back is to us. The priest closes the door quietly behind him. VOGLER Herr Salieri? Old Salieri turns around to look at him. We see that his throat is bandaged expertly. He wears hospital garb, and over it the Civilian Medal and Chain with which we will later see the EMPEROR invest him. OLD SALIERI What do you want? VOGLER I am Father Vogler. I am a Chaplain here. I thought you might like to talk to someone. OLD SALIERI About what? VOGLER You tried to take your life. You do remember that, don't you? OLD SALIERI So? VOGLER In the sight of God that is a sin. OLD SALIERI What do you want? VOGLER Do you understand that you have sinned? Gravely. OLD SALIERI Leave me alone. VOGLER I cannot leave alone a soul in pain. OLD SALIERI Do you know who I am? You never heard of me, did you? VOGLER That makes no difference. All men are equal in God's eyes. OLD SALIERI Are they? VOGLER Offer me your confession. I can offer you God's forgiveness. OLD SALIERI I do not seek forgiveness. VOGLER My son, there is something dreadful on your soul. Unburden it to me. I'm here only for you. Please talk to me. OLD SALIERI How well are you trained in music? VOGLER I know a little. I studied it in my youth. OLD SALIERI Where? VOGLER Here in Vienna. OLD SALIERI Then you must know this. He propels his wheelchair to the forte-piano, and plays an unrecognizable melody. VOGLER I can't say I do. What is it? OLD SALIERI I'm surprised you don't know. It was a very popular tune in its day. I wrote it. How about this? He plays another tune. OLD SALIERI This one brought down the house when we played it first. He plays it with growing enthusiasm. CUT TO: INT. THE STAGE OF AN OPERA HOUSE - NIGHT - 1780'S We see the pretty soprano KATHERINA CAVALIERI, now about twenty-four, dressed in an elaborate mythological Persian costume, singing on stage. She's near the end of a very florid aria by Salieri. The audience applauds wildly. INT. OLD SALIERI'S HOSPITAL ROOM - LATE AFTERNOON - 1823 OLD SALIERI (taking his hands off the keys) Well? VOGLER I regret it is not too familiar. OLD SALIERI Can you recall no melody of mine? I was the most famous composer in Europe when you were still a boy. I wrote forty operas alone. What about this little thing? Slyly he plays the opening measure of Mozart's Eine Kleine Nachtmusik. The priest nods, smiling suddenly, and hums a little with the music. VOGLER Oh, I know that! That's charming! I didn't know you wrote that. OLD SALIERI I didn't. That was Mozart. Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart. You know who that is? VOGLER Of course. The man you accuse yourself of killing. OLD SALIERI Ah - you've heard that? VOGLER All Vienna has heard that. OLD SALIERI ( eagerly) And do they believe it? VOGLER Is it true? OLD SALIERI Do you believe it? VOGLER Should I? A very long pause. Salieri stares above the priest, seemingly lost in his own private world. VOGLER For God's sake, my son, if you have anything to confess, do it now! Give yourself some peace! A further pause. VOGLER Do you hear me? OLD SALIERI He was murdered, Father! Mozart! Cruelly murdered. Pause. VOGLER (almost whispering) Yes? Did you do it? Suddenly Old Salieri turns to him, a look of extreme innocence. OLD SALIERI He was my idol! I can't remember a time when I didn't know his name! When I was only fourteen he was already famous. Even in Legnago - the tiniest town in Italy - I knew of him. CUT TO: EXT. A SMALL TOWN SQUARE IN LOMBARDY, ITALY - DAY - 1780'S There are twelve children and twenty adults in the square. We see the fourteen-year-old Salieri blindfolded, playing a game of Blindman's Bluff with other Italian children, running about in the bright sunshine and laughing. OLD SALIERI (V.O.) I was still playing childish games when he was playing music for kings and emperors. Even the Pope in Rome! CUT TO: INT. A SALON IN THE VATICAN - DAY - 1780'S We see the six-year-old MOZART, also blindfolded, seated in a gilded chair on a pile of books, playing the harpsichord for the POPE and a suite of CARDINALS and other churchmen. Beside the little boy stands LEOPOLD, his father, smirking with pride. OLD SALIERI (V.O.) I admit I was jealous when I heard the tales they told about him. Not of the brilliant little prodigy himself, but of his father, who had taught him everything. The piece finishes. Leopold lowers the lid of the harpsichord and lifts up his little son to stand on it. Mozart removes the blindfold to show a pale little face with staring eyes. Both father and son bow. A Papal Chamberlain presents Leopold with a gold snuff box whilst the cardinals decorously applaud. Over this scene Old Salieri speaks. OLD SALIERI (V.O.) My father did not care for music. He wanted me only to be a merchant, like himself. As anonymous as he was. When I told how I wished I could be like Mozart, he would say, Why? Do you want to be a trained monkey? Would you like me to drag you around Europe doing tricks like a circus freak? How could I tell him what music meant to me? CUT TO: EXT. A COUNTRY CHURCH IN NORTH ITALY - DAY - 1780'S Serene music of the Italian Baroque - Pergolesi's Stabat Mater - sung by a choir of boys with organ accompaniment. We see the outside of the 17th-century church sitting in the wide landscape of Lombardy: sunlit fields, a dusty, white road, poplar trees. INT. THE CHURCH AT LEGNAGO - DAY - 1780'S The music continues and swells. We see the twelve-year-old Salieri seated between his plump and placid parents in the congregation, listening in rapture. His father is a heavy- looking, self-approving man, obviously indifferent to the music. A large and austere Christ on the cross hangs over the altar. Candles burn below his image. OLD SALIERI (V.O.) Even then a spray of sounded notes could make me dizzy, almost to falling. The boy falls forward on his knees. So do his parents and the other members of the congregation. He stares up at Christ who stares back at him. OLD SALIERI (V.O.) Whilst my father prayed earnestly to God to protect commerce, I would offer up secretly the proudest prayer a boy could think of. Lord, make me a great composer! Let me celebrate your glory through music - and be celebrated myself! Make me famous through the world, dear God! Make me immortal! After I die let people speak my name forever with love for what I wrote! In return I vow I will give you my chastity - my industry, my deepest humility, every hour of my life. And I will help my fellow man all I can. Amen and amen! The music swells to a crescendo. The candles flare. We see the Christ through the flames looking at the boy benignly. OLD SALIERI (V.O.) And do you know what happened? A miracle! INT. DINING ROOM IN THE SALIERI HOUSE - DAY - 1780'S CU, a large cooked fish on a thick china plate. Camera pulls back to show the Salieri family at dinner. Father Salieri sits at the head of the table, a napkin tucked into his chin. Mother Salieri is serving the fish into portions and handing them round. Two maiden aunts are in attendance, wearing black, and of course the young boy. Father Salieri receives his plate of fish and starts to eat greedily. Suddenly there is a gasp - he starts to choke violently on a fish bone. All the women get up and crowd around him, thumping and pummeling him, but it is in vain. Father Salieri collapses. INT. OLD SALIERI'S HOSPITAL ROOM - LATE AFTERNOON - 1823 OLD SALIERI Suddenly he was dead. Just like that! And my life changed forever. My mother said, Go. Study music if you really want to. Off with you! And off I went as quick as I could and never saw Italy again. Of course, I knew God had arranged it all; that was obvious. One moment I was a frustrated boy in an obscure little town. The next I was here, in Vienna, city of musicians, sixteen years old and studying under Gluck! Gluck, Father. Do you know who he was? The greatest composer of his time. And he loved me! That was the wonder. He taught me everything he knew. And when I was ready, introduced me personally to the Emperor! Emperor Joseph - the musical king! Within a few years I was his court composer. Wasn't that incredible? Imperial Composer to His Majesty! Actually the man had no ear at all, but what did it matter? He adored my music, that was enough. Night after night I sat right next to the Emperor of Austria, playing duets with him, correcting the royal sight-reading. Tell me, if you had been me, wouldn't you have thought God had accepted your vow? And believe me, I honoured it. I was a model of virtue. I kept my hands off women, worked hours every day teaching students, many of them for free, sitting on endless committees to help poor musicians - work and work and work, that was all my life. And it was wonderful! Everybody liked me. I liked myself. I was the most successful musician in Vienna. And the happiest. Till he came. Mozart. CUT TO: INT. THE ARCHBISHOP OF SALZBURG'S RESIDENCE - VIENNA - DAY - 1780'S A grand room crowded with guests. A small group of Gypsy musicians is playing in the background. Thirteen members of the Archbishop's orchestra - all wind players, complete with 18th-century wind instruments: elaborate-looking bassoons, basset horns, etc. and wearing their employer's livery - are laying out music on stands at one end of the room. At the other end is a large gilded chair, bearing the arms of the ARCHBISHOP OF SALZBURG. A throng of people is standing, talking, and preparing to sit upon the rows of waiting chairs to hear a concert. OLD SALIERI (V.O.) One day he came to Vienna to play some of his music at the residence of his employer, the Prince-Archbishop of Salzburg. Eagerly I went there to seek him out. That night changed my life. We see Salieri, age thirty-one, a neat, carefully turned-cut man in decent black clothes and clean white linen, walking through the crowd of guests. We follow him. OLD SALIERI (V.O.) As I went through the salon, I played a game with myself. This man had written his first concerto at the age of four; his first symphony at seven; a full-scale opera at twelve. Did it show? Is talent like that written on the face? We see shots of assorted young men staring back at Salieri as he moves through the crowd. OLD SALIERI (V.O.) Which one of them could he be? Some of the men recognize Salieri and bow respectfully. Then suddenly a servant bearing a large tray of cakes and pastries stalks past. Instantly riveted by the sight of such delights, Salieri follows him out of the Grand Salon. INT. A PALACE CORRIDOR - DAY - 1780'S The servant marches along bearing his tray of pastries aloft. Salieri follows him. The servant turns into: INT. BUFFET ROOM IN THE PALACE - DAY - 1780'S Salieri's POV: several tables, dressed to the floor with cloths are loaded with many plates of confectionery. It is, in fact, Salieri's idea of paradise! The servant puts his tray down on one of the tables and withdraws from the room. INT. A PALACE CORRIDOR - DAY - 1780'S Salieri turns away so as not to be noticed by the servant. As soon as the man disappears, Salieri sneaks into the buffet room. INT. BUFFET ROOM IN THE PALACE - DAY - 1780'S Salieri enters the room and looks about him cautiously. He is salivating with anticipation as he stares at the feast of sweet things. His attention is attracted in particular by a huge pile of dark chocolate balls arranged in the shape of a pineapple. He reaches out a hand to steal one of the balls, but at the same moment he hears giggling coming toward him. He ducks down behind the pastry table. A girl - CONSTANZE - rushes into the room. She runs straight across it and hides herself behind one of the tables. After a beat of total silence, MOZART runs into the room, stops, and looks around. He is age twenty-six, wearing a fine wig and a brilliant coat with the insignia of the Archbishop of Salzburg upon it. He is puzzled; Constanze has disappeared. Baffled, he turns and is about to leave the room, when Constanze suddenly squeaks from under the cloth like a tiny mouse. Instantly Mozart drops to all fours and starts crawling across the floor, meowing and hissing like a naughty cat. Watched by an astonished Salieri, Mozart disappears under the cloth and obviously pounces upon Constanze. We hear a high-pitched giggle, which is going to characterize Mozart throughout the film. CUT TO: INT. PALACE GRAND SALON - DAY - 1780'S The throng is mostly seated. The musicians are in their places, holding their various exotic-looking wind instruments; the candles are all lit. A Majordomo appears and bangs his staff on the floor for attention. Immediately COLLOREDO, Prince-Archbishop of Salzburg enters. He is a small self- important figure of fifty in a wig, surmounted by a scarlet skullcap. He is followed by his Chamberlain, the Count ARCO. Everyone stands. The Archbishop goes to his throne and sits. His guests sit also. Arco gives the signal to start the music. Nothing happens. Instead, a wind musician gets up, approaches the Chamberlain and whispers in his ear. Arco in turn whispers to the Archbishop. ARCO Mozart is not here. COLLOREDO Where is he? ARCO They're looking for him, Your Grace. INT. A PALACE CORRIDOR - DAY - 1780'S Three servants are opening doors and looking into rooms going off the corridor. CUT TO: INT. PALACE GRAND SALON - DAY - 1780'S The guests are turning around and looking at the Archbishop. The musicians are watching. There is puzzlement and a murmur of comment. The Archbishop tightens his lip. COLLOREDO (to Arco) We'll start without him. INT. PALACE BUFFET ROOM - DAY - 1780'S Mozart is on his knees before the tablecloth, which reaches to the floor. Under it is Constanze. We hear her giggling as he talks. MOZART Miaouw! Miaouw! Mouse-wouse? It's Puss-wuss, fangs-wangs. Paws-claws. Pounce-bounce! He grabs her ankle. She screams. He pulls her out by her leg. CONSTANZE Stop it. Stop it! They roll on the floor. He tickles her. CONSTANZE Stop it! MOZART I am! I am! I'm stopping it - slowly. You see! Look, I've stopped. Now we are going back. He tries to drag her back under the table. CONSTANZE No! No! No! MOZART Yes! Back! Back! Listen - don't you know where you are? CONSTANZE Where? MOZART We are in the Residence of the Fartsbishop of Salzburg. CONSTANZE Fartsbishop! She laughs delightedly, then addresses an imaginary Archbishop. CONSTANZE Your Grace, I've got something to tell you. I want to complain about this man. MOZART Go ahead, tell him. Tell them all. They won't understand you anyway. CONSTANZE Why not? MOZART Because here everything goes backwards. People walk backwards, dance backwards, sing backwards, and talk backwards. CONSTANZE That's stupid. MOZART Why? People fart backwards. CONSTANZE Do you think that's funny? MOZART Yes, I think it's brilliant. You've been doing it for years. He gives a high pitched giggle. CONSTANZE Oh, ha, ha, ha. MOZART Sra-I'm-sick! Sra-I'm sick! CONSTANZE Yes, you are. You're very sick. MOZART No, no. Say it backwards, shit-wit. Sra-I'm-sick Say it backwards! CONSTANZE (working it out) Sra-I'm-sick. Sick - kiss I'm - my Kiss my! Sra-I'm-sick - Kiss my arse! MOZART Em iram! Em iram! CONSTANZE No, I'm not playing this game. MOZART No, this is serious. Say it backwards. CONSTANZE No! MOZART Just say it - you'll see. It's very serious. Em iram! Em iram! CONSTANZE Iram - marry Em - marry me! No, no! You're a fiend. I'm not going to marry a fiend. A dirty fiend at that. MOZART Ui-vol-i-tub! CONSTANZE Tub - but i-tub - but I vol - love but I love ui - You. I love you! The mood becomes suddenly softer. She kisses him. They embrace. Then he spoils it. MOZART Tish-I'm tee. What's that? CONSTANZE What? MOZART Tish-I'm-tee. CONSTANZE Eat MOZART Yes. CONSTANZE Eat my - ah! Shocked, she strikes at him. At the same moment the music starts in the salon next door. We hear the opening of the Serenade for Thirteen Wind Instruments, K. MOZART My music! They've started! They've started without me! He leaps up, disheveled and rumpled and runs out of the room. Salieri watches in amazement and disgust. CUT TO: INT. PALACE CORRIDOR - DAY - 1780'S The music is louder. Mozart hastens towards the Grand Salon away from the buffet room, adjusting his dress as he goes. INT. GRAND SALON - DAY - 1780'S The opening of the Serenade is being tentatively conducted by the leader of the wind-musicians. Guests turn around as Mozart appears - bowing to the Archbishop - and walks with an attempt at dignity to the dais where the wind band is playing. The leader yields his place to the composer and Mozart smoothly takes over conducting. Constanze, deeply embarrassed, sneaks into the room and seats herself at the back. INT. PALACE BUFFET ROOM - DAY - 1780'S The music fades down. Salieri stands shocked from his inadvertent eavesdropping. After a second he moves almost in a trance toward the door; the music dissolves. INT. GRAND SALON - DAY - 1780'S Mozart is conducting the Adagio from his Serenade (K. 361), guiding the thirteen wind instrumentalists. The squeezebox opening of the movement begins. Salieri appears at the door at the back of the salon. He stares in disbelief at Mozart. OLD SALIERI (V.O.) So that was he! That giggling, dirty- minded creature I'd just seen crawling on the floor. Mozart. The phenomenon whose legend had haunted my youth. Impossible. The music swells up and Salieri listens to it with eyes closed - amazed, transported - suddenly engulfed by the sound. Finally it fades down and away and changes into applause. Salieri opens his eyes. The audience is clearly delighted. Mozart bows to them, also delighted. Colloredo rises abruptly, and without looking at Mozart or applauding and leaves the Salon. Count Arco approaches the composer. Mozart turns to him, radiant. ARCO Follow me, please. The Archbishop would like a word. MOZART Certainly! He follows Arco out of the room, through a throng of admirers. INT. ANOTHER PALACE CORRIDOR - DAY - 1780'S Mozart and Arco walk side by side. They pass Salieri who is staring at Mozart in fascination. As they disappear, he steals toward the music stands, unable to help himself. MOZART Well, I think that went off remarkably well, don't you? ARCO Indeed. MOZART These Viennese certainly know good music when they hear it. ARCO His Grace is very angry with you. MOZART What do you mean? They arrive at the door of Colloredo's private apartment. ARCO You are to come in here and ask his pardon. Arco opens the door. INT. ARCHBISHOP'S PRIVATE ROOM - DAY - 1780'S The Archbishop is sitting, chatting to quests. Among them are several ladies. Arco approaches him obsequiously. ARCO Your Grace. COLLOREDO Ah, Mozart. Why? MOZART Why what, sir? COLLOREDO Why do I have to be humiliated in front of my guests by one of my own servants? MOZART Humiliated? COLLOREDO How much provocation am I to endure from you? The more license I allow you, the more you take. The company watches this scene, deeply interested. MOZART If His Grace is not satisfied with me, he can dismiss me. COLLOREDO I wish you to return immediately to Salzburg. Your father is waiting for you there patiently. I will speak to you further when I come. MOZART No, Your Grace! I mean with all humility, no. I would rather you dismissed me. It's obvious I don't satisfy. COLLOREDO Then try harder, Mozart. I have no intention of dismissing you. You will remain in my service and learn your place. Go now. He extends his hand to be kissed. Mozart does it with a furious grace, then leaves the room. As he opens the door we see: INT. PALACE CORRIDOR - DAY - 1780'S A group of people who have attended the concert, among them Constanze, are standing outside the private apartment. At sight of the composer they break into sustained applause. Mozart is suddenly delighted. He throws the door wide open so that the guests can see into the private apartment where the Archbishop sits

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Amadeus Script at IMSDb. var _gaq = _gaq || []; _gaq.push(['_setAccount', 'UA-3785444-3']); _gaq.push(['_trackPageview']); (function() { var ga = document.createElement('script'); ga.type = 'text/javascript'; ga.async = true; ga.src = ('https:' == document.location.protocol ? 'https://ssl' : 'http://www') + '.google-analytics.com/ga.js'; var s = document.getElementsByTagName('script')[0]; s.parentNode.insertBefore(ga, s); })(); The Internet Movie Script Database (IMSDb) The web's largest movie script resource! Search IMSDb Alphabetical # A B C D E F G H I J K L M N O P Q R S T U V W X Y Z Genre Action Adventure Animation Comedy Crime Drama Family Fantasy Film-Noir Horror Musical Mystery Romance Sci-Fi Short Thriller War Western Sponsor TV Transcripts Futurama Seinfeld South Park Stargate SG-1 Lost The 4400 International French scripts Movie Software Rip from DVD Rip Blu-Ray Latest Comments Star Wars: Revenge of the Sith10/10 Star Wars: The Force Awakens10/10 Batman Begins9/10 Collateral10/10 Jackie Brown8/10 Movie Chat Message Yell ! ALL SCRIPTS if (window!= top) top.location.href=location.href // --> AMADEUS "AMADEUS" by Peter Shaffer Final Draft INT. STAIRCASE OUTSIDE OLD SALIERI'S SALON - NIGHT - 1823 Total darkness. We hear an old man's voice, distinct and in distress. It is OLD SALIERI. He uses a mixture of English and occasionally Italian. OLD SALIERI Mozart! Mozart! Mozart. Forgive me! Forgive your assassin! Mozart! A faint light illuminates the screen. Flickeringly, we see an eighteenth century balustrade and a flight of stone stairs. We are looking down into the wall of the staircase from the point of view of the landing. Up the stair is coming a branched candlestick held by Salieri's VALET. By his side is Salieri's COOK, bearing a large dish of sugared cakes and biscuits. Both men are desperately worried: the Valet is thin and middle-aged; the Cook, plump and Italian. It is very cold. They wear shawls over their night-dresses and clogs on their feet. They wheeze as they climb. The candles throw their shadows up onto the peeling walls of the house, which is evidently an old one and in bad decay. A cat scuttles swiftly between their bare legs, as they reach the salon door. The Valet tries the handle. It is locked. Behind it the voice goes on, rising in volume. OLD SALIERI Show some mercy! I beg you. I beg you! Show mercy to a guilty man! The Valet knocks gently on the door. The voice stops. VALET Open the door, Signore! Please! Be good now! We've brought you something special. Something you're going to love. Silence. VALET Signore Salieri! Open the door. Come now. Be good! The voice of Old Salieri continues again, further off now, and louder. We hear a noise as if a window is being opened. OLD SALIERI Mozart! Mozart! I confess it! Listen! I confess! The two servants look at each other in alarm. Then the Valet hands the candlestick to the Cook and takes a sugared cake from the dish, scrambling as quickly as he can back down the stairs. EXT. THE STREET OUTSIDE SALIERI'S HOUSE - VIENNA - NIGHT The street is filled with people: ten cabs with drivers, five children, fifteen adults, two doormen, fifteen dancing couples and a sled and three dogs. It is a windy night. Snow is falling and whirling about. People are passing on foot, holding their cloaks tightly around them. Some of them are revelers in fancy dress: they wear masks on their faces or hanging around their necks, as if returning from parties. Now they are glancing up at the facade of the old house. The window above the street is open and Old Salieri stands there calling to the sky: a sharp-featured, white-haired Italian over seventy years old, wearing a stained dressing gown. OLD SALIERI Mozart! Mozart! I cannot bear it any longer! I confess! I confess what I did! I'm guilty! I killed you! Sir I confess! I killed you! The door of the house bursts open. The Valet hobbles out, holding the sugared cake. The wind catches at his shawl. OLD SALIERI Mozart, perdonami! Forgive your assassin! Piet ! Piet ! Forgive your assassin! Forgive me! Forgive! Forgive! VALET (looking up to the window) That's all right, Signore! He heard you! He forgave you! He wants you to go inside now and shut the window! Old Salieri stares down at him. Some of the passersby have now stopped and are watching this spectacle. VALET Come on, Signore! Look what I have for you! I can't give it to you from down here, can I? Old Salieri looks at him in contempt. Then he turns away back into the room, shutting the window with a bang. Through the glass, the old man stares down at the group of onlookers in the street. They stare back at him in confusion. BYSTANDER Who is that? VALET No one, sir. He'll be all right. Poor man. He's a little unhappy, you know. He makes a sign indicating 'crazy,' and goes back inside the house. The onlookers keep staring. CUT TO: INT. LANDING OUTSIDE OLD SALIERI'S SALON - NIGHT The Cook is standing holding the candlestick in one hand, the dish of cakes in the other. The Valet arrives, panting. VALET Did he open? The Cook, scared, shakes his head: no. The Valet again knocks on the door. VALET Here I am, Signore. Now open the door. He eats the sugared cake in his hand, elaborately and noisily. VALET Mmmm - this is good! This is the most delicious thing I ever ate, believe me! Signore, you don't know what you're missing! Mmmm! We hear a thump from inside the bedroom. VALET Now that's enough, Signore! Open! We hear a terrible, throaty groaning. VALET If you don't open this door, we're going to eat everything. There'll be nothing left for you. And I'm not going to bring you anything more. He looks down. From under the door we see a trickle of blood flowing. In horror, the two men stare at it. The dish of cakes falls from the Cook's hand and shatters. He sets the candlestick down on the floor. Both servants run at the door frantically - once, twice, three times - and the frail lock gives. The door flies open. Immediately, the stormy, frenzied opening of Mozart's Symphony No. 25 (the Little G Minor) begins. We see what the servants see. INT. OLD SALIERI'S SALON - NIGHT Old Salieri lies on the floor in a pool of blood, an open razor in his hand. He has cut his throat but is still alive. He gestures at them. They run to him. Barely, we glimpse the room - an old chair, old tables piled with books, a forte- piano, a chamber-pot on the floor - as the Valet and the Cook struggle to lift their old Master, and bind his bleeding throat with a napkin. INT. BALLROOM - NIGHT Twenty-five dancing couples, fifty guests, ten servants, full orchestra. As the music slows a little, we see a Masquerade Ball in progress. A crowded room of dancers is executing the slow portion of a dance fashionable in the early 1820's. EXT. STREET OUTSIDE SALIERI'S HOUSE - NIGHT As the fast music returns, we see Old Salieri being carried out of his house on a stretcher by two attendants, and placed in a horse-drawn wagon under the supervision of a middle- aged doctor in a tall hat. This is DOCTOR GULDEN. He gets in beside his patient. The driver whips up the horse, and the wagon dashes off through the still-falling snow. MONTAGE: EXT. FOUR STREETS OF VIENNA AND INT. THE WAGON - NIGHT The wagon is galloping through the snowy streets of the city. Inside the conveyance we see Old Salieri wrapped in blankets, half-conscious, being held by the hospital attendants. Doctor Gulden stares at him grimly. The wagon arrives outside the General Hospital of Vienna. CUT TO: INT. A HOSPITAL CORRIDOR - LATE AFTERNOON A wide, white-washed corridor. Doctor Gulden is walking down it with a priest, a man of about forty, concerned, but somewhat self-important. This is Father VOGLER, Chaplain at the hospital. In the corridor as they walk, we note several patients -- some of them visibly disturbed mentally. All patients wear white linen smocks. Doctor Gulden wears a dark frock-coat; Vogler, a cassock. DOCTOR GULDEN He's going to live. It's much harder to cut your throat than most people imagine. They stop outside a door. DOCTOR GULDEN Here we are. Do you wish me to come in with you? VOGLER No, Doctor. Thank you. Vogler nods and opens the door. INT. OLD SALIERI'S HOSPITAL ROOM - LATE AFTERNOON A bare room - one of the best available in the General Hospital. It contains a bed, a table with candles, chairs, a small forte-piano of the early nineteenth century. As Vogler enters, Old Salieri is sitting in a wheel-chair, looking out the window. His back is to us. The priest closes the door quietly behind him. VOGLER Herr Salieri? Old Salieri turns around to look at him. We see that his throat is bandaged expertly. He wears hospital garb, and over it the Civilian Medal and Chain with which we will later see the EMPEROR invest him. OLD SALIERI What do you want? VOGLER I am Father Vogler. I am a Chaplain here. I thought you might like to talk to someone. OLD SALIERI About what? VOGLER You tried to take your life. You do remember that, don't you? OLD SALIERI So? VOGLER In the sight of God that is a sin. OLD SALIERI What do you want? VOGLER Do you understand that you have sinned? Gravely. OLD SALIERI Leave me alone. VOGLER I cannot leave alone a soul in pain. OLD SALIERI Do you know who I am? You never heard of me, did you? VOGLER That makes no difference. All men are equal in God's eyes. OLD SALIERI Are they? VOGLER Offer me your confession. I can offer you God's forgiveness. OLD SALIERI I do not seek forgiveness. VOGLER My son, there is something dreadful on your soul. Unburden it to me. I'm here only for you. Please talk to me. OLD SALIERI How well are you trained in music? VOGLER I know a little. I studied it in my youth. OLD SALIERI Where? VOGLER Here in Vienna. OLD SALIERI Then you must know this. He propels his wheelchair to the forte-piano, and plays an unrecognizable melody. VOGLER I can't say I do. What is it? OLD SALIERI I'm surprised you don't know. It was a very popular tune in its day. I wrote it. How about this? He plays another tune. OLD SALIERI This one brought down the house when we played it first. He plays it with growing enthusiasm. CUT TO: INT. THE STAGE OF AN OPERA HOUSE - NIGHT - 1780'S We see the pretty soprano KATHERINA CAVALIERI, now about twenty-four, dressed in an elaborate mythological Persian costume, singing on stage. She's near the end of a very florid aria by Salieri. The audience applauds wildly. INT. OLD SALIERI'S HOSPITAL ROOM - LATE AFTERNOON - 1823 OLD SALIERI (taking his hands off the keys) Well? VOGLER I regret it is not too familiar. OLD SALIERI Can you recall no melody of mine? I was the most famous composer in Europe when you were still a boy. I wrote forty operas alone. What about this little thing? Slyly he plays the opening measure of Mozart's Eine Kleine Nachtmusik. The priest nods, smiling suddenly, and hums a little with the music. VOGLER Oh, I know that! That's charming! I didn't know you wrote that. OLD SALIERI I didn't. That was Mozart. Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart. You know who that is? VOGLER Of course. The man you accuse yourself of killing. OLD SALIERI Ah - you've heard that? VOGLER All Vienna has heard that. OLD SALIERI ( eagerly) And do they believe it? VOGLER Is it true? OLD SALIERI Do you believe it? VOGLER Should I? A very long pause. Salieri stares above the priest, seemingly lost in his own private world. VOGLER For God's sake, my son, if you have anything to confess, do it now! Give yourself some peace! A further pause. VOGLER Do you hear me? OLD SALIERI He was murdered, Father! Mozart! Cruelly murdered. Pause. VOGLER (almost whispering) Yes? Did you do it? Suddenly Old Salieri turns to him, a look of extreme innocence. OLD SALIERI He was my idol! I can't remember a time when I didn't know his name! When I was only fourteen he was already famous. Even in Legnago - the tiniest town in Italy - I knew of him. CUT TO: EXT. A SMALL TOWN SQUARE IN LOMBARDY, ITALY - DAY - 1780'S There are twelve children and twenty adults in the square. We see the fourteen-year-old Salieri blindfolded, playing a game of Blindman's Bluff with other Italian children, running about in the bright sunshine and laughing. OLD SALIERI (V.O.) I was still playing childish games when he was playing music for kings and emperors. Even the Pope in Rome! CUT TO: INT. A SALON IN THE VATICAN - DAY - 1780'S We see the six-year-old MOZART, also blindfolded, seated in a gilded chair on a pile of books, playing the harpsichord for the POPE and a suite of CARDINALS and other churchmen. Beside the little boy stands LEOPOLD, his father, smirking with pride. OLD SALIERI (V.O.) I admit I was jealous when I heard the tales they told about him. Not of the brilliant little prodigy himself, but of his father, who had taught him everything. The piece finishes. Leopold lowers the lid of the harpsichord and lifts up his little son to stand on it. Mozart removes the blindfold to show a pale little face with staring eyes. Both father and son bow. A Papal Chamberlain presents Leopold with a gold snuff box whilst the cardinals decorously applaud. Over this scene Old Salieri speaks. OLD SALIERI (V.O.) My father did not care for music. He wanted me only to be a merchant, like himself. As anonymous as he was. When I told how I wished I could be like Mozart, he would say, Why? Do you want to be a trained monkey? Would you like me to drag you around Europe doing tricks like a circus freak? How could I tell him what music meant to me? CUT TO: EXT. A COUNTRY CHURCH IN NORTH ITALY - DAY - 1780'S Serene music of the Italian Baroque - Pergolesi's Stabat Mater - sung by a choir of boys with organ accompaniment. We see the outside of the 17th-century church sitting in the wide landscape of Lombardy: sunlit fields, a dusty, white road, poplar trees. INT. THE CHURCH AT LEGNAGO - DAY - 1780'S The music continues and swells. We see the twelve-year-old Salieri seated between his plump and placid parents in the congregation, listening in rapture. His father is a heavy- looking, self-approving man, obviously indifferent to the music. A large and austere Christ on the cross hangs over the altar. Candles burn below his image. OLD SALIERI (V.O.) Even then a spray of sounded notes could make me dizzy, almost to falling. The boy falls forward on his knees. So do his parents and the other members of the congregation. He stares up at Christ who stares back at him. OLD SALIERI (V.O.) Whilst my father prayed earnestly to God to protect commerce, I would offer up secretly the proudest prayer a boy could think of. Lord, make me a great composer! Let me celebrate your glory through music - and be celebrated myself! Make me famous through the world, dear God! Make me immortal! After I die let people speak my name forever with love for what I wrote! In return I vow I will give you my chastity - my industry, my deepest humility, every hour of my life. And I will help my fellow man all I can. Amen and amen! The music swells to a crescendo. The candles flare. We see the Christ through the flames looking at the boy benignly. OLD SALIERI (V.O.) And do you know what happened? A miracle! INT. DINING ROOM IN THE SALIERI HOUSE - DAY - 1780'S CU, a large cooked fish on a thick china plate. Camera pulls back to show the Salieri family at dinner. Father Salieri sits at the head of the table, a napkin tucked into his chin. Mother Salieri is serving the fish into portions and handing them round. Two maiden aunts are in attendance, wearing black, and of course the young boy. Father Salieri receives his plate of fish and starts to eat greedily. Suddenly there is a gasp - he starts to choke violently on a fish bone. All the women get up and crowd around him, thumping and pummeling him, but it is in vain. Father Salieri collapses. INT. OLD SALIERI'S HOSPITAL ROOM - LATE AFTERNOON - 1823 OLD SALIERI Suddenly he was dead. Just like that! And my life changed forever. My mother said, Go. Study music if you really want to. Off with you! And off I went as quick as I could and never saw Italy again. Of course, I knew God had arranged it all; that was obvious. One moment I was a frustrated boy in an obscure little town. The next I was here, in Vienna, city of musicians, sixteen years old and studying under Gluck! Gluck, Father. Do you know who he was? The greatest composer of his time. And he loved me! That was the wonder. He taught me everything he knew. And when I was ready, introduced me personally to the Emperor! Emperor Joseph - the musical king! Within a few years I was his court composer. Wasn't that incredible? Imperial Composer to His Majesty! Actually the man had no ear at all, but what did it matter? He adored my music, that was enough. Night after night I sat right next to the Emperor of Austria, playing duets with him, correcting the royal sight-reading. Tell me, if you had been me, wouldn't you have thought God had accepted your vow? And believe me, I honoured it. I was a model of virtue. I kept my hands off women, worked hours every day teaching students, many of them for free, sitting on endless committees to help poor musicians - work and work and work, that was all my life. And it was wonderful! Everybody liked me. I liked myself. I was the most successful musician in Vienna. And the happiest. Till he came. Mozart. CUT TO: INT. THE ARCHBISHOP OF SALZBURG'S RESIDENCE - VIENNA - DAY - 1780'S A grand room crowded with guests. A small group of Gypsy musicians is playing in the background. Thirteen members of the Archbishop's orchestra - all wind players, complete with 18th-century wind instruments: elaborate-looking bassoons, basset horns, etc. and wearing their employer's livery - are laying out music on stands at one end of the room. At the other end is a large gilded chair, bearing the arms of the ARCHBISHOP OF SALZBURG. A throng of people is standing, talking, and preparing to sit upon the rows of waiting chairs to hear a concert. OLD SALIERI (V.O.) One day he came to Vienna to play some of his music at the residence of his employer, the Prince-Archbishop of Salzburg. Eagerly I went there to seek him out. That night changed my life. We see Salieri, age thirty-one, a neat, carefully turned-cut man in decent black clothes and clean white linen, walking through the crowd of guests. We follow him. OLD SALIERI (V.O.) As I went through the salon, I played a game with myself. This man had written his first concerto at the age of four; his first symphony at seven; a full-scale opera at twelve. Did it show? Is talent like that written on the face? We see shots of assorted young men staring back at Salieri as he moves through the crowd. OLD SALIERI (V.O.) Which one of them could he be? Some of the men recognize Salieri and bow respectfully. Then suddenly a servant bearing a large tray of cakes and pastries stalks past. Instantly riveted by the sight of such delights, Salieri follows him out of the Grand Salon. INT. A PALACE CORRIDOR - DAY - 1780'S The servant marches along bearing his tray of pastries aloft. Salieri follows him. The servant turns into: INT. BUFFET ROOM IN THE PALACE - DAY - 1780'S Salieri's POV: several tables, dressed to the floor with cloths are loaded with many plates of confectionery. It is, in fact, Salieri's idea of paradise! The servant puts his tray down on one of the tables and withdraws from the room. INT. A PALACE CORRIDOR - DAY - 1780'S Salieri turns away so as not to be noticed by the servant. As soon as the man disappears, Salieri sneaks into the buffet room. INT. BUFFET ROOM IN THE PALACE - DAY - 1780'S Salieri enters the room and looks about him cautiously. He is salivating with anticipation as he stares at the feast of sweet things. His attention is attracted in particular by a huge pile of dark chocolate balls arranged in the shape of a pineapple. He reaches out a hand to steal one of the balls, but at the same moment he hears giggling coming toward him. He ducks down behind the pastry table. A girl - CONSTANZE - rushes into the room. She runs straight across it and hides herself behind one of the tables. After a beat of total silence, MOZART runs into the room, stops, and looks around. He is age twenty-six, wearing a fine wig and a brilliant coat with the insignia of the Archbishop of Salzburg upon it. He is puzzled; Constanze has disappeared. Baffled, he turns and is about to leave the room, when Constanze suddenly squeaks from under the cloth like a tiny mouse. Instantly Mozart drops to all fours and starts crawling across the floor, meowing and hissing like a naughty cat. Watched by an astonished Salieri, Mozart disappears under the cloth and obviously pounces upon Constanze. We hear a high-pitched giggle, which is going to characterize Mozart throughout the film. CUT TO: INT. PALACE GRAND SALON - DAY - 1780'S The throng is mostly seated. The musicians are in their places, holding their various exotic-looking wind instruments; the candles are all lit. A Majordomo appears and bangs his staff on the floor for attention. Immediately COLLOREDO, Prince-Archbishop of Salzburg enters. He is a small self- important figure of fifty in a wig, surmounted by a scarlet skullcap. He is followed by his Chamberlain, the Count ARCO. Everyone stands. The Archbishop goes to his throne and sits. His guests sit also. Arco gives the signal to start the music. Nothing happens. Instead, a wind musician gets up, approaches the Chamberlain and whispers in his ear. Arco in turn whispers to the Archbishop. ARCO Mozart is not here. COLLOREDO Where is he? ARCO They're looking for him, Your Grace. INT. A PALACE CORRIDOR - DAY - 1780'S Three servants are opening doors and looking into rooms going off the corridor. CUT TO: INT. PALACE GRAND SALON - DAY - 1780'S The guests are turning around and looking at the Archbishop. The musicians are watching. There is puzzlement and a murmur of comment. The Archbishop tightens his lip. COLLOREDO (to Arco) We'll start without him. INT. PALACE BUFFET ROOM - DAY - 1780'S Mozart is on his knees before the tablecloth, which reaches to the floor. Under it is Constanze. We hear her giggling as he talks. MOZART Miaouw! Miaouw! Mouse-wouse? It's Puss-wuss, fangs-wangs. Paws-claws. Pounce-bounce! He grabs her ankle. She screams. He pulls her out by her leg. CONSTANZE Stop it. Stop it! They roll on the floor. He tickles her. CONSTANZE Stop it! MOZART I am! I am! I'm stopping it - slowly. You see! Look, I've stopped. Now we are going back. He tries to drag her back under the table. CONSTANZE No! No! No! MOZART Yes! Back! Back! Listen - don't you know where you are? CONSTANZE Where? MOZART We are in the Residence of the Fartsbishop of Salzburg. CONSTANZE Fartsbishop! She laughs delightedly, then addresses an imaginary Archbishop. CONSTANZE Your Grace, I've got something to tell you. I want to complain about this man. MOZART Go ahead, tell him. Tell them all. They won't understand you anyway. CONSTANZE Why not? MOZART Because here everything goes backwards. People walk backwards, dance backwards, sing backwards, and talk backwards. CONSTANZE That's stupid. MOZART Why? People fart backwards. CONSTANZE Do you think that's funny? MOZART Yes, I think it's brilliant. You've been doing it for years. He gives a high pitched giggle. CONSTANZE Oh, ha, ha, ha. MOZART Sra-I'm-sick! Sra-I'm sick! CONSTANZE Yes, you are. You're very sick. MOZART No, no. Say it backwards, shit-wit. Sra-I'm-sick Say it backwards! CONSTANZE (working it out) Sra-I'm-sick. Sick - kiss I'm - my Kiss my! Sra-I'm-sick - Kiss my arse! MOZART Em iram! Em iram! CONSTANZE No, I'm not playing this game. MOZART No, this is serious. Say it backwards. CONSTANZE No! MOZART Just say it - you'll see. It's very serious. Em iram! Em iram! CONSTANZE Iram - marry Em - marry me! No, no! You're a fiend. I'm not going to marry a fiend. A dirty fiend at that. MOZART Ui-vol-i-tub! CONSTANZE Tub - but i-tub - but I vol - love but I love ui - You. I love you! The mood becomes suddenly softer. She kisses him. They embrace. Then he spoils it. MOZART Tish-I'm tee. What's that? CONSTANZE What? MOZART Tish-I'm-tee. CONSTANZE Eat MOZART Yes. CONSTANZE Eat my - ah! Shocked, she strikes at him. At the same moment the music starts in the salon next door. We hear the opening of the Serenade for Thirteen Wind Instruments, K. MOZART My music! They've started! They've started without me! He leaps up, disheveled and rumpled and runs out of the room. Salieri watches in amazement and disgust. CUT TO: INT. PALACE CORRIDOR - DAY - 1780'S The music is louder. Mozart hastens towards the Grand Salon away from the buffet room, adjusting his dress as he goes. INT. GRAND SALON - DAY - 1780'S The opening of the Serenade is being tentatively conducted by the leader of the wind-musicians. Guests turn around as Mozart appears - bowing to the Archbishop - and walks with an attempt at dignity to the dais where the wind band is playing. The leader yields his place to the composer and Mozart smoothly takes over conducting. Constanze, deeply embarrassed, sneaks into the room and seats herself at the back. INT. PALACE BUFFET ROOM - DAY - 1780'S The music fades down. Salieri stands shocked from his inadvertent eavesdropping. After a second he moves almost in a trance toward the door; the music dissolves. INT. GRAND SALON - DAY - 1780'S Mozart is conducting the Adagio from his Serenade (K. 361), guiding the thirteen wind instrumentalists. The squeezebox opening of the movement begins. Salieri appears at the door at the back of the salon. He stares in disbelief at Mozart. OLD SALIERI (V.O.) So that was he! That giggling, dirty- minded creature I'd just seen crawling on the floor. Mozart. The phenomenon whose legend had haunted my youth. Impossible. The music swells up and Salieri listens to it with eyes closed - amazed, transported - suddenly engulfed by the sound. Finally it fades down and away and changes into applause. Salieri opens his eyes. The audience is clearly delighted. Mozart bows to them, also delighted. Colloredo rises abruptly, and without looking at Mozart or applauding and leaves the Salon. Count Arco approaches the composer. Mozart turns to him, radiant. ARCO Follow me, please. The Archbishop would like a word. MOZART Certainly! He follows Arco out of the room, through a throng of admirers. INT. ANOTHER PALACE CORRIDOR - DAY - 1780'S Mozart and Arco walk side by side. They pass Salieri who is staring at Mozart in fascination. As they disappear, he steals toward the music stands, unable to help himself. MOZART Well, I think that went off remarkably well, don't you? ARCO Indeed. MOZART These Viennese certainly know good music when they hear it. ARCO His Grace is very angry with you. MOZART What do you mean? They arrive at the door of Colloredo's private apartment. ARCO You are to come in here and ask his pardon. Arco opens the door. INT. ARCHBISHOP'S PRIVATE ROOM - DAY - 1780'S The Archbishop is sitting, chatting to quests. Among them are several ladies. Arco approaches him obsequiously. ARCO Your Grace. COLLOREDO Ah, Mozart. Why? MOZART Why what, sir? COLLOREDO Why do I have to be humiliated in front of my guests by one of my own servants? MOZART Humiliated? COLLOREDO How much provocation am I to endure from you? The more license I allow you, the more you take. The company watches this scene, deeply interested. MOZART If His Grace is not satisfied with me, he can dismiss me. COLLOREDO I wish you to return immediately to Salzburg. Your father is waiting for you there patiently. I will speak to you further when I come. MOZART No, Your Grace! I mean with all humility, no. I would rather you dismissed me. It's obvious I don't satisfy. COLLOREDO Then try harder, Mozart. I have no intention of dismissing you. You will remain in my service and learn your place. Go now. He extends his hand to be kissed. Mozart does it with a furious grace, then leaves the room. As he opens the door we see: INT. PALACE CORRIDOR - DAY - 1780'S A group of people who have attended the concert, among them Constanze, are standing outside the private apartment. At sight of the composer they break into sustained applause. Mozart is suddenly delighted. He throws the door wide open so that the guests can see into the private apartment where the Archbishop sits

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Amadeus Script at IMSDb. var _gaq = _gaq || []; _gaq.push(['_setAccount', 'UA-3785444-3']); _gaq.push(['_trackPageview']); (function() { var ga = document.createElement('script'); ga.type = 'text/javascript'; ga.async = true; ga.src = ('https:' == document.location.protocol ? 'https://ssl' : 'http://www') + '.google-analytics.com/ga.js'; var s = document.getElementsByTagName('script')[0]; s.parentNode.insertBefore(ga, s); })(); The Internet Movie Script Database (IMSDb) The web's largest movie script resource! Search IMSDb Alphabetical # A B C D E F G H I J K L M N O P Q R S T U V W X Y Z Genre Action Adventure Animation Comedy Crime Drama Family Fantasy Film-Noir Horror Musical Mystery Romance Sci-Fi Short Thriller War Western Sponsor TV Transcripts Futurama Seinfeld South Park Stargate SG-1 Lost The 4400 International French scripts Movie Software Rip from DVD Rip Blu-Ray Latest Comments Star Wars: Revenge of the Sith10/10 Star Wars: The Force Awakens10/10 Batman Begins9/10 Collateral10/10 Jackie Brown8/10 Movie Chat Message Yell ! ALL SCRIPTS if (window!= top) top.location.href=location.href // --> AMADEUS "AMADEUS" by Peter Shaffer Final Draft INT. STAIRCASE OUTSIDE OLD SALIERI'S SALON - NIGHT - 1823 Total darkness. We hear an old man's voice, distinct and in distress. It is OLD SALIERI. He uses a mixture of English and occasionally Italian. OLD SALIERI Mozart! Mozart! Mozart. Forgive me! Forgive your assassin! Mozart! A faint light illuminates the screen. Flickeringly, we see an eighteenth century balustrade and a flight of stone stairs. We are looking down into the wall of the staircase from the point of view of the landing. Up the stair is coming a branched candlestick held by Salieri's VALET. By his side is Salieri's COOK, bearing a large dish of sugared cakes and biscuits. Both men are desperately worried: the Valet is thin and middle-aged; the Cook, plump and Italian. It is very cold. They wear shawls over their night-dresses and clogs on their feet. They wheeze as they climb. The candles throw their shadows up onto the peeling walls of the house, which is evidently an old one and in bad decay. A cat scuttles swiftly between their bare legs, as they reach the salon door. The Valet tries the handle. It is locked. Behind it the voice goes on, rising in volume. OLD SALIERI Show some mercy! I beg you. I beg you! Show mercy to a guilty man! The Valet knocks gently on the door. The voice stops. VALET Open the door, Signore! Please! Be good now! We've brought you something special. Something you're going to love. Silence. VALET Signore Salieri! Open the door. Come now. Be good! The voice of Old Salieri continues again, further off now, and louder. We hear a noise as if a window is being opened. OLD SALIERI Mozart! Mozart! I confess it! Listen! I confess! The two servants look at each other in alarm. Then the Valet hands the candlestick to the Cook and takes a sugared cake from the dish, scrambling as quickly as he can back down the stairs. EXT. THE STREET OUTSIDE SALIERI'S HOUSE - VIENNA - NIGHT The street is filled with people: ten cabs with drivers, five children, fifteen adults, two doormen, fifteen dancing couples and a sled and three dogs. It is a windy night. Snow is falling and whirling about. People are passing on foot, holding their cloaks tightly around them. Some of them are revelers in fancy dress: they wear masks on their faces or hanging around their necks, as if returning from parties. Now they are glancing up at the facade of the old house. The window above the street is open and Old Salieri stands there calling to the sky: a sharp-featured, white-haired Italian over seventy years old, wearing a stained dressing gown. OLD SALIERI Mozart! Mozart! I cannot bear it any longer! I confess! I confess what I did! I'm guilty! I killed you! Sir I confess! I killed you! The door of the house bursts open. The Valet hobbles out, holding the sugared cake. The wind catches at his shawl. OLD SALIERI Mozart, perdonami! Forgive your assassin! Piet ! Piet ! Forgive your assassin! Forgive me! Forgive! Forgive! VALET (looking up to the window) That's all right, Signore! He heard you! He forgave you! He wants you to go inside now and shut the window! Old Salieri stares down at him. Some of the passersby have now stopped and are watching this spectacle. VALET Come on, Signore! Look what I have for you! I can't give it to you from down here, can I? Old Salieri looks at him in contempt. Then he turns away back into the room, shutting the window with a bang. Through the glass, the old man stares down at the group of onlookers in the street. They stare back at him in confusion. BYSTANDER Who is that? VALET No one, sir. He'll be all right. Poor man. He's a little unhappy, you know. He makes a sign indicating 'crazy,' and goes back inside the house. The onlookers keep staring. CUT TO: INT. LANDING OUTSIDE OLD SALIERI'S SALON - NIGHT The Cook is standing holding the candlestick in one hand, the dish of cakes in the other. The Valet arrives, panting. VALET Did he open? The Cook, scared, shakes his head: no. The Valet again knocks on the door. VALET Here I am, Signore. Now open the door. He eats the sugared cake in his hand, elaborately and noisily. VALET Mmmm - this is good! This is the most delicious thing I ever ate, believe me! Signore, you don't know what you're missing! Mmmm! We hear a thump from inside the bedroom. VALET Now that's enough, Signore! Open! We hear a terrible, throaty groaning. VALET If you don't open this door, we're going to eat everything. There'll be nothing left for you. And I'm not going to bring you anything more. He looks down. From under the door we see a trickle of blood flowing. In horror, the two men stare at it. The dish of cakes falls from the Cook's hand and shatters. He sets the candlestick down on the floor. Both servants run at the door frantically - once, twice, three times - and the frail lock gives. The door flies open. Immediately, the stormy, frenzied opening of Mozart's Symphony No. 25 (the Little G Minor) begins. We see what the servants see. INT. OLD SALIERI'S SALON - NIGHT Old Salieri lies on the floor in a pool of blood, an open razor in his hand. He has cut his throat but is still alive. He gestures at them. They run to him. Barely, we glimpse the room - an old chair, old tables piled with books, a forte- piano, a chamber-pot on the floor - as the Valet and the Cook struggle to lift their old Master, and bind his bleeding throat with a napkin. INT. BALLROOM - NIGHT Twenty-five dancing couples, fifty guests, ten servants, full orchestra. As the music slows a little, we see a Masquerade Ball in progress. A crowded room of dancers is executing the slow portion of a dance fashionable in the early 1820's. EXT. STREET OUTSIDE SALIERI'S HOUSE - NIGHT As the fast music returns, we see Old Salieri being carried out of his house on a stretcher by two attendants, and placed in a horse-drawn wagon under the supervision of a middle- aged doctor in a tall hat. This is DOCTOR GULDEN. He gets in beside his patient. The driver whips up the horse, and the wagon dashes off through the still-falling snow. MONTAGE: EXT. FOUR STREETS OF VIENNA AND INT. THE WAGON - NIGHT The wagon is galloping through the snowy streets of the city. Inside the conveyance we see Old Salieri wrapped in blankets, half-conscious, being held by the hospital attendants. Doctor Gulden stares at him grimly. The wagon arrives outside the General Hospital of Vienna. CUT TO: INT. A HOSPITAL CORRIDOR - LATE AFTERNOON A wide, white-washed corridor. Doctor Gulden is walking down it with a priest, a man of about forty, concerned, but somewhat self-important. This is Father VOGLER, Chaplain at the hospital. In the corridor as they walk, we note several patients -- some of them visibly disturbed mentally. All patients wear white linen smocks. Doctor Gulden wears a dark frock-coat; Vogler, a cassock. DOCTOR GULDEN He's going to live. It's much harder to cut your throat than most people imagine. They stop outside a door. DOCTOR GULDEN Here we are. Do you wish me to come in with you? VOGLER No, Doctor. Thank you. Vogler nods and opens the door. INT. OLD SALIERI'S HOSPITAL ROOM - LATE AFTERNOON A bare room - one of the best available in the General Hospital. It contains a bed, a table with candles, chairs, a small forte-piano of the early nineteenth century. As Vogler enters, Old Salieri is sitting in a wheel-chair, looking out the window. His back is to us. The priest closes the door quietly behind him. VOGLER Herr Salieri? Old Salieri turns around to look at him. We see that his throat is bandaged expertly. He wears hospital garb, and over it the Civilian Medal and Chain with which we will later see the EMPEROR invest him. OLD SALIERI What do you want? VOGLER I am Father Vogler. I am a Chaplain here. I thought you might like to talk to someone. OLD SALIERI About what? VOGLER You tried to take your life. You do remember that, don't you? OLD SALIERI So? VOGLER In the sight of God that is a sin. OLD SALIERI What do you want? VOGLER Do you understand that you have sinned? Gravely. OLD SALIERI Leave me alone. VOGLER I cannot leave alone a soul in pain. OLD SALIERI Do you know who I am? You never heard of me, did you? VOGLER That makes no difference. All men are equal in God's eyes. OLD SALIERI Are they? VOGLER Offer me your confession. I can offer you God's forgiveness. OLD SALIERI I do not seek forgiveness. VOGLER My son, there is something dreadful on your soul. Unburden it to me. I'm here only for you. Please talk to me. OLD SALIERI How well are you trained in music? VOGLER I know a little. I studied it in my youth. OLD SALIERI Where? VOGLER Here in Vienna. OLD SALIERI Then you must know this. He propels his wheelchair to the forte-piano, and plays an unrecognizable melody. VOGLER I can't say I do. What is it? OLD SALIERI I'm surprised you don't know. It was a very popular tune in its day. I wrote it. How about this? He plays another tune. OLD SALIERI This one brought down the house when we played it first. He plays it with growing enthusiasm. CUT TO: INT. THE STAGE OF AN OPERA HOUSE - NIGHT - 1780'S We see the pretty soprano KATHERINA CAVALIERI, now about twenty-four, dressed in an elaborate mythological Persian costume, singing on stage. She's near the end of a very florid aria by Salieri. The audience applauds wildly. INT. OLD SALIERI'S HOSPITAL ROOM - LATE AFTERNOON - 1823 OLD SALIERI (taking his hands off the keys) Well? VOGLER I regret it is not too familiar. OLD SALIERI Can you recall no melody of mine? I was the most famous composer in Europe when you were still a boy. I wrote forty operas alone. What about this little thing? Slyly he plays the opening measure of Mozart's Eine Kleine Nachtmusik. The priest nods, smiling suddenly, and hums a little with the music. VOGLER Oh, I know that! That's charming! I didn't know you wrote that. OLD SALIERI I didn't. That was Mozart. Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart. You know who that is? VOGLER Of course. The man you accuse yourself of killing. OLD SALIERI Ah - you've heard that? VOGLER All Vienna has heard that. OLD SALIERI ( eagerly) And do they believe it? VOGLER Is it true? OLD SALIERI Do you believe it? VOGLER Should I? A very long pause. Salieri stares above the priest, seemingly lost in his own private world. VOGLER For God's sake, my son, if you have anything to confess, do it now! Give yourself some peace! A further pause. VOGLER Do you hear me? OLD SALIERI He was murdered, Father! Mozart! Cruelly murdered. Pause. VOGLER (almost whispering) Yes? Did you do it? Suddenly Old Salieri turns to him, a look of extreme innocence. OLD SALIERI He was my idol! I can't remember a time when I didn't know his name! When I was only fourteen he was already famous. Even in Legnago - the tiniest town in Italy - I knew of him. CUT TO: EXT. A SMALL TOWN SQUARE IN LOMBARDY, ITALY - DAY - 1780'S There are twelve children and twenty adults in the square. We see the fourteen-year-old Salieri blindfolded, playing a game of Blindman's Bluff with other Italian children, running about in the bright sunshine and laughing. OLD SALIERI (V.O.) I was still playing childish games when he was playing music for kings and emperors. Even the Pope in Rome! CUT TO: INT. A SALON IN THE VATICAN - DAY - 1780'S We see the six-year-old MOZART, also blindfolded, seated in a gilded chair on a pile of books, playing the harpsichord for the POPE and a suite of CARDINALS and other churchmen. Beside the little boy stands LEOPOLD, his father, smirking with pride. OLD SALIERI (V.O.) I admit I was jealous when I heard the tales they told about him. Not of the brilliant little prodigy himself, but of his father, who had taught him everything. The piece finishes. Leopold lowers the lid of the harpsichord and lifts up his little son to stand on it. Mozart removes the blindfold to show a pale little face with staring eyes. Both father and son bow. A Papal Chamberlain presents Leopold with a gold snuff box whilst the cardinals decorously applaud. Over this scene Old Salieri speaks. OLD SALIERI (V.O.) My father did not care for music. He wanted me only to be a merchant, like himself. As anonymous as he was. When I told how I wished I could be like Mozart, he would say, Why? Do you want to be a trained monkey? Would you like me to drag you around Europe doing tricks like a circus freak? How could I tell him what music meant to me? CUT TO: EXT. A COUNTRY CHURCH IN NORTH ITALY - DAY - 1780'S Serene music of the Italian Baroque - Pergolesi's Stabat Mater - sung by a choir of boys with organ accompaniment. We see the outside of the 17th-century church sitting in the wide landscape of Lombardy: sunlit fields, a dusty, white road, poplar trees. INT. THE CHURCH AT LEGNAGO - DAY - 1780'S The music continues and swells. We see the twelve-year-old Salieri seated between his plump and placid parents in the congregation, listening in rapture. His father is a heavy- looking, self-approving man, obviously indifferent to the music. A large and austere Christ on the cross hangs over the altar. Candles burn below his image. OLD SALIERI (V.O.) Even then a spray of sounded notes could make me dizzy, almost to falling. The boy falls forward on his knees. So do his parents and the other members of the congregation. He stares up at Christ who stares back at him. OLD SALIERI (V.O.) Whilst my father prayed earnestly to God to protect commerce, I would offer up secretly the proudest prayer a boy could think of. Lord, make me a great composer! Let me celebrate your glory through music - and be celebrated myself! Make me famous through the world, dear God! Make me immortal! After I die let people speak my name forever with love for what I wrote! In return I vow I will give you my chastity - my industry, my deepest humility, every hour of my life. And I will help my fellow man all I can. Amen and amen! The music swells to a crescendo. The candles flare. We see the Christ through the flames looking at the boy benignly. OLD SALIERI (V.O.) And do you know what happened? A miracle! INT. DINING ROOM IN THE SALIERI HOUSE - DAY - 1780'S CU, a large cooked fish on a thick china plate. Camera pulls back to show the Salieri family at dinner. Father Salieri sits at the head of the table, a napkin tucked into his chin. Mother Salieri is serving the fish into portions and handing them round. Two maiden aunts are in attendance, wearing black, and of course the young boy. Father Salieri receives his plate of fish and starts to eat greedily. Suddenly there is a gasp - he starts to choke violently on a fish bone. All the women get up and crowd around him, thumping and pummeling him, but it is in vain. Father Salieri collapses. INT. OLD SALIERI'S HOSPITAL ROOM - LATE AFTERNOON - 1823 OLD SALIERI Suddenly he was dead. Just like that! And my life changed forever. My mother said, Go. Study music if you really want to. Off with you! And off I went as quick as I could and never saw Italy again. Of course, I knew God had arranged it all; that was obvious. One moment I was a frustrated boy in an obscure little town. The next I was here, in Vienna, city of musicians, sixteen years old and studying under Gluck! Gluck, Father. Do you know who he was? The greatest composer of his time. And he loved me! That was the wonder. He taught me everything he knew. And when I was ready, introduced me personally to the Emperor! Emperor Joseph - the musical king! Within a few years I was his court composer. Wasn't that incredible? Imperial Composer to His Majesty! Actually the man had no ear at all, but what did it matter? He adored my music, that was enough. Night after night I sat right next to the Emperor of Austria, playing duets with him, correcting the royal sight-reading. Tell me, if you had been me, wouldn't you have thought God had accepted your vow? And believe me, I honoured it. I was a model of virtue. I kept my hands off women, worked hours every day teaching students, many of them for free, sitting on endless committees to help poor musicians - work and work and work, that was all my life. And it was wonderful! Everybody liked me. I liked myself. I was the most successful musician in Vienna. And the happiest. Till he came. Mozart. CUT TO: INT. THE ARCHBISHOP OF SALZBURG'S RESIDENCE - VIENNA - DAY - 1780'S A grand room crowded with guests. A small group of Gypsy musicians is playing in the background. Thirteen members of the Archbishop's orchestra - all wind players, complete with 18th-century wind instruments: elaborate-looking bassoons, basset horns, etc. and wearing their employer's livery - are laying out music on stands at one end of the room. At the other end is a large gilded chair, bearing the arms of the ARCHBISHOP OF SALZBURG. A throng of people is standing, talking, and preparing to sit upon the rows of waiting chairs to hear a concert. OLD SALIERI (V.O.) One day he came to Vienna to play some of his music at the residence of his employer, the Prince-Archbishop of Salzburg. Eagerly I went there to seek him out. That night changed my life. We see Salieri, age thirty-one, a neat, carefully turned-cut man in decent black clothes and clean white linen, walking through the crowd of guests. We follow him. OLD SALIERI (V.O.) As I went through the salon, I played a game with myself. This man had written his first concerto at the age of four; his first symphony at seven; a full-scale opera at twelve. Did it show? Is talent like that written on the face? We see shots of assorted young men staring back at Salieri as he moves through the crowd. OLD SALIERI (V.O.) Which one of them could he be? Some of the men recognize Salieri and bow respectfully. Then suddenly a servant bearing a large tray of cakes and pastries stalks past. Instantly riveted by the sight of such delights, Salieri follows him out of the Grand Salon. INT. A PALACE CORRIDOR - DAY - 1780'S The servant marches along bearing his tray of pastries aloft. Salieri follows him. The servant turns into: INT. BUFFET ROOM IN THE PALACE - DAY - 1780'S Salieri's POV: several tables, dressed to the floor with cloths are loaded with many plates of confectionery. It is, in fact, Salieri's idea of paradise! The servant puts his tray down on one of the tables and withdraws from the room. INT. A PALACE CORRIDOR - DAY - 1780'S Salieri turns away so as not to be noticed by the servant. As soon as the man disappears, Salieri sneaks into the buffet room. INT. BUFFET ROOM IN THE PALACE - DAY - 1780'S Salieri enters the room and looks about him cautiously. He is salivating with anticipation as he stares at the feast of sweet things. His attention is attracted in particular by a huge pile of dark chocolate balls arranged in the shape of a pineapple. He reaches out a hand to steal one of the balls, but at the same moment he hears giggling coming toward him. He ducks down behind the pastry table. A girl - CONSTANZE - rushes into the room. She runs straight across it and hides herself behind one of the tables. After a beat of total silence, MOZART runs into the room, stops, and looks around. He is age twenty-six, wearing a fine wig and a brilliant coat with the insignia of the Archbishop of Salzburg upon it. He is puzzled; Constanze has disappeared. Baffled, he turns and is about to leave the room, when Constanze suddenly squeaks from under the cloth like a tiny mouse. Instantly Mozart drops to all fours and starts crawling across the floor, meowing and hissing like a naughty cat. Watched by an astonished Salieri, Mozart disappears under the cloth and obviously pounces upon Constanze. We hear a high-pitched giggle, which is going to characterize Mozart throughout the film. CUT TO: INT. PALACE GRAND SALON - DAY - 1780'S The throng is mostly seated. The musicians are in their places, holding their various exotic-looking wind instruments; the candles are all lit. A Majordomo appears and bangs his staff on the floor for attention. Immediately COLLOREDO, Prince-Archbishop of Salzburg enters. He is a small self- important figure of fifty in a wig, surmounted by a scarlet skullcap. He is followed by his Chamberlain, the Count ARCO. Everyone stands. The Archbishop goes to his throne and sits. His guests sit also. Arco gives the signal to start the music. Nothing happens. Instead, a wind musician gets up, approaches the Chamberlain and whispers in his ear. Arco in turn whispers to the Archbishop. ARCO Mozart is not here. COLLOREDO Where is he? ARCO They're looking for him, Your Grace. INT. A PALACE CORRIDOR - DAY - 1780'S Three servants are opening doors and looking into rooms going off the corridor. CUT TO: INT. PALACE GRAND SALON - DAY - 1780'S The guests are turning around and looking at the Archbishop. The musicians are watching. There is puzzlement and a murmur of comment. The Archbishop tightens his lip. COLLOREDO (to Arco) We'll start without him. INT. PALACE BUFFET ROOM - DAY - 1780'S Mozart is on his knees before the tablecloth, which reaches to the floor. Under it is Constanze. We hear her giggling as he talks. MOZART Miaouw! Miaouw! Mouse-wouse? It's Puss-wuss, fangs-wangs. Paws-claws. Pounce-bounce! He grabs her ankle. She screams. He pulls her out by her leg. CONSTANZE Stop it. Stop it! They roll on the floor. He tickles her. CONSTANZE Stop it! MOZART I am! I am! I'm stopping it - slowly. You see! Look, I've stopped. Now we are going back. He tries to drag her back under the table. CONSTANZE No! No! No! MOZART Yes! Back! Back! Listen - don't you know where you are? CONSTANZE Where? MOZART We are in the Residence of the Fartsbishop of Salzburg. CONSTANZE Fartsbishop! She laughs delightedly, then addresses an imaginary Archbishop. CONSTANZE Your Grace, I've got something to tell you. I want to complain about this man. MOZART Go ahead, tell him. Tell them all. They won't understand you anyway. CONSTANZE Why not? MOZART Because here everything goes backwards. People walk backwards, dance backwards, sing backwards, and talk backwards. CONSTANZE That's stupid. MOZART Why? People fart backwards. CONSTANZE Do you think that's funny? MOZART Yes, I think it's brilliant. You've been doing it for years. He gives a high pitched giggle. CONSTANZE Oh, ha, ha, ha. MOZART Sra-I'm-sick! Sra-I'm sick! CONSTANZE Yes, you are. You're very sick. MOZART No, no. Say it backwards, shit-wit. Sra-I'm-sick Say it backwards! CONSTANZE (working it out) Sra-I'm-sick. Sick - kiss I'm - my Kiss my! Sra-I'm-sick - Kiss my arse! MOZART Em iram! Em iram! CONSTANZE No, I'm not playing this game. MOZART No, this is serious. Say it backwards. CONSTANZE No! MOZART Just say it - you'll see. It's very serious. Em iram! Em iram! CONSTANZE Iram - marry Em - marry me! No, no! You're a fiend. I'm not going to marry a fiend. A dirty fiend at that. MOZART Ui-vol-i-tub! CONSTANZE Tub - but i-tub - but I vol - love but I love ui - You. I love you! The mood becomes suddenly softer. She kisses him. They embrace. Then he spoils it. MOZART Tish-I'm tee. What's that? CONSTANZE What? MOZART Tish-I'm-tee. CONSTANZE Eat MOZART Yes. CONSTANZE Eat my - ah! Shocked, she strikes at him. At the same moment the music starts in the salon next door. We hear the opening of the Serenade for Thirteen Wind Instruments, K. MOZART My music! They've started! They've started without me! He leaps up, disheveled and rumpled and runs out of the room. Salieri watches in amazement and disgust. CUT TO: INT. PALACE CORRIDOR - DAY - 1780'S The music is louder. Mozart hastens towards the Grand Salon away from the buffet room, adjusting his dress as he goes. INT. GRAND SALON - DAY - 1780'S The opening of the Serenade is being tentatively conducted by the leader of the wind-musicians. Guests turn around as Mozart appears - bowing to the Archbishop - and walks with an attempt at dignity to the dais where the wind band is playing. The leader yields his place to the composer and Mozart smoothly takes over conducting. Constanze, deeply embarrassed, sneaks into the room and seats herself at the back. INT. PALACE BUFFET ROOM - DAY - 1780'S The music fades down. Salieri stands shocked from his inadvertent eavesdropping. After a second he moves almost in a trance toward the door; the music dissolves. INT. GRAND SALON - DAY - 1780'S Mozart is conducting the Adagio from his Serenade (K. 361), guiding the thirteen wind instrumentalists. The squeezebox opening of the movement begins. Salieri appears at the door at the back of the salon. He stares in disbelief at Mozart. OLD SALIERI (V.O.) So that was he! That giggling, dirty- minded creature I'd just seen crawling on the floor. Mozart. The phenomenon whose legend had haunted my youth. Impossible. The music swells up and Salieri listens to it with eyes closed - amazed, transported - suddenly engulfed by the sound. Finally it fades down and away and changes into applause. Salieri opens his eyes. The audience is clearly delighted. Mozart bows to them, also delighted. Colloredo rises abruptly, and without looking at Mozart or applauding and leaves the Salon. Count Arco approaches the composer. Mozart turns to him, radiant. ARCO Follow me, please. The Archbishop would like a word. MOZART Certainly! He follows Arco out of the room, through a throng of admirers. INT. ANOTHER PALACE CORRIDOR - DAY - 1780'S Mozart and Arco walk side by side. They pass Salieri who is staring at Mozart in fascination. As they disappear, he steals toward the music stands, unable to help himself. MOZART Well, I think that went off remarkably well, don't you? ARCO Indeed. MOZART These Viennese certainly know good music when they hear it. ARCO His Grace is very angry with you. MOZART What do you mean? They arrive at the door of Colloredo's private apartment. ARCO You are to come in here and ask his pardon. Arco opens the door. INT. ARCHBISHOP'S PRIVATE ROOM - DAY - 1780'S The Archbishop is sitting, chatting to quests. Among them are several ladies. Arco approaches him obsequiously. ARCO Your Grace. COLLOREDO Ah, Mozart. Why? MOZART Why what, sir? COLLOREDO Why do I have to be humiliated in front of my guests by one of my own servants? MOZART Humiliated? COLLOREDO How much provocation am I to endure from you? The more license I allow you, the more you take. The company watches this scene, deeply interested. MOZART If His Grace is not satisfied with me, he can dismiss me. COLLOREDO I wish you to return immediately to Salzburg. Your father is waiting for you there patiently. I will speak to you further when I come. MOZART No, Your Grace! I mean with all humility, no. I would rather you dismissed me. It's obvious I don't satisfy. COLLOREDO Then try harder, Mozart. I have no intention of dismissing you. You will remain in my service and learn your place. Go now. He extends his hand to be kissed. Mozart does it with a furious grace, then leaves the room. As he opens the door we see: INT. PALACE CORRIDOR - DAY - 1780'S A group of people who have attended the concert, among them Constanze, are standing outside the private apartment. At sight of the composer they break into sustained applause. Mozart is suddenly delighted. He throws the door wide open so that the guests can see into the private apartment where the Archbishop sits

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Amadeus Script at IMSDb. var _gaq = _gaq || []; _gaq.push(['_setAccount', 'UA-3785444-3']); _gaq.push(['_trackPageview']); (function() { var ga = document.createElement('script'); ga.type = 'text/javascript'; ga.async = true; ga.src = ('https:' == document.location.protocol ? 'https://ssl' : 'http://www') + '.google-analytics.com/ga.js'; var s = document.getElementsByTagName('script')[0]; s.parentNode.insertBefore(ga, s); })(); The Internet Movie Script Database (IMSDb) The web's largest movie script resource! Search IMSDb Alphabetical # A B C D E F G H I J K L M N O P Q R S T U V W X Y Z Genre Action Adventure Animation Comedy Crime Drama Family Fantasy Film-Noir Horror Musical Mystery Romance Sci-Fi Short Thriller War Western Sponsor TV Transcripts Futurama Seinfeld South Park Stargate SG-1 Lost The 4400 International French scripts Movie Software Rip from DVD Rip Blu-Ray Latest Comments Star Wars: Revenge of the Sith10/10 Star Wars: The Force Awakens10/10 Batman Begins9/10 Collateral10/10 Jackie Brown8/10 Movie Chat Message Yell ! ALL SCRIPTS if (window!= top) top.location.href=location.href // --> AMADEUS "AMADEUS" by Peter Shaffer Final Draft INT. STAIRCASE OUTSIDE OLD SALIERI'S SALON - NIGHT - 1823 Total darkness. We hear an old man's voice, distinct and in distress. It is OLD SALIERI. He uses a mixture of English and occasionally Italian. OLD SALIERI Mozart! Mozart! Mozart. Forgive me! Forgive your assassin! Mozart! A faint light illuminates the screen. Flickeringly, we see an eighteenth century balustrade and a flight of stone stairs. We are looking down into the wall of the staircase from the point of view of the landing. Up the stair is coming a branched candlestick held by Salieri's VALET. By his side is Salieri's COOK, bearing a large dish of sugared cakes and biscuits. Both men are desperately worried: the Valet is thin and middle-aged; the Cook, plump and Italian. It is very cold. They wear shawls over their night-dresses and clogs on their feet. They wheeze as they climb. The candles throw their shadows up onto the peeling walls of the house, which is evidently an old one and in bad decay. A cat scuttles swiftly between their bare legs, as they reach the salon door. The Valet tries the handle. It is locked. Behind it the voice goes on, rising in volume. OLD SALIERI Show some mercy! I beg you. I beg you! Show mercy to a guilty man! The Valet knocks gently on the door. The voice stops. VALET Open the door, Signore! Please! Be good now! We've brought you something special. Something you're going to love. Silence. VALET Signore Salieri! Open the door. Come now. Be good! The voice of Old Salieri continues again, further off now, and louder. We hear a noise as if a window is being opened. OLD SALIERI Mozart! Mozart! I confess it! Listen! I confess! The two servants look at each other in alarm. Then the Valet hands the candlestick to the Cook and takes a sugared cake from the dish, scrambling as quickly as he can back down the stairs. EXT. THE STREET OUTSIDE SALIERI'S HOUSE - VIENNA - NIGHT The street is filled with people: ten cabs with drivers, five children, fifteen adults, two doormen, fifteen dancing couples and a sled and three dogs. It is a windy night. Snow is falling and whirling about. People are passing on foot, holding their cloaks tightly around them. Some of them are revelers in fancy dress: they wear masks on their faces or hanging around their necks, as if returning from parties. Now they are glancing up at the facade of the old house. The window above the street is open and Old Salieri stands there calling to the sky: a sharp-featured, white-haired Italian over seventy years old, wearing a stained dressing gown. OLD SALIERI Mozart! Mozart! I cannot bear it any longer! I confess! I confess what I did! I'm guilty! I killed you! Sir I confess! I killed you! The door of the house bursts open. The Valet hobbles out, holding the sugared cake. The wind catches at his shawl. OLD SALIERI Mozart, perdonami! Forgive your assassin! Piet ! Piet ! Forgive your assassin! Forgive me! Forgive! Forgive! VALET (looking up to the window) That's all right, Signore! He heard you! He forgave you! He wants you to go inside now and shut the window! Old Salieri stares down at him. Some of the passersby have now stopped and are watching this spectacle. VALET Come on, Signore! Look what I have for you! I can't give it to you from down here, can I? Old Salieri looks at him in contempt. Then he turns away back into the room, shutting the window with a bang. Through the glass, the old man stares down at the group of onlookers in the street. They stare back at him in confusion. BYSTANDER Who is that? VALET No one, sir. He'll be all right. Poor man. He's a little unhappy, you know. He makes a sign indicating 'crazy,' and goes back inside the house. The onlookers keep staring. CUT TO: INT. LANDING OUTSIDE OLD SALIERI'S SALON - NIGHT The Cook is standing holding the candlestick in one hand, the dish of cakes in the other. The Valet arrives, panting. VALET Did he open? The Cook, scared, shakes his head: no. The Valet again knocks on the door. VALET Here I am, Signore. Now open the door. He eats the sugared cake in his hand, elaborately and noisily. VALET Mmmm - this is good! This is the most delicious thing I ever ate, believe me! Signore, you don't know what you're missing! Mmmm! We hear a thump from inside the bedroom. VALET Now that's enough, Signore! Open! We hear a terrible, throaty groaning. VALET If you don't open this door, we're going to eat everything. There'll be nothing left for you. And I'm not going to bring you anything more. He looks down. From under the door we see a trickle of blood flowing. In horror, the two men stare at it. The dish of cakes falls from the Cook's hand and shatters. He sets the candlestick down on the floor. Both servants run at the door frantically - once, twice, three times - and the frail lock gives. The door flies open. Immediately, the stormy, frenzied opening of Mozart's Symphony No. 25 (the Little G Minor) begins. We see what the servants see. INT. OLD SALIERI'S SALON - NIGHT Old Salieri lies on the floor in a pool of blood, an open razor in his hand. He has cut his throat but is still alive. He gestures at them. They run to him. Barely, we glimpse the room - an old chair, old tables piled with books, a forte- piano, a chamber-pot on the floor - as the Valet and the Cook struggle to lift their old Master, and bind his bleeding throat with a napkin. INT. BALLROOM - NIGHT Twenty-five dancing couples, fifty guests, ten servants, full orchestra. As the music slows a little, we see a Masquerade Ball in progress. A crowded room of dancers is executing the slow portion of a dance fashionable in the early 1820's. EXT. STREET OUTSIDE SALIERI'S HOUSE - NIGHT As the fast music returns, we see Old Salieri being carried out of his house on a stretcher by two attendants, and placed in a horse-drawn wagon under the supervision of a middle- aged doctor in a tall hat. This is DOCTOR GULDEN. He gets in beside his patient. The driver whips up the horse, and the wagon dashes off through the still-falling snow. MONTAGE: EXT. FOUR STREETS OF VIENNA AND INT. THE WAGON - NIGHT The wagon is galloping through the snowy streets of the city. Inside the conveyance we see Old Salieri wrapped in blankets, half-conscious, being held by the hospital attendants. Doctor Gulden stares at him grimly. The wagon arrives outside the General Hospital of Vienna. CUT TO: INT. A HOSPITAL CORRIDOR - LATE AFTERNOON A wide, white-washed corridor. Doctor Gulden is walking down it with a priest, a man of about forty, concerned, but somewhat self-important. This is Father VOGLER, Chaplain at the hospital. In the corridor as they walk, we note several patients -- some of them visibly disturbed mentally. All patients wear white linen smocks. Doctor Gulden wears a dark frock-coat; Vogler, a cassock. DOCTOR GULDEN He's going to live. It's much harder to cut your throat than most people imagine. They stop outside a door. DOCTOR GULDEN Here we are. Do you wish me to come in with you? VOGLER No, Doctor. Thank you. Vogler nods and opens the door. INT. OLD SALIERI'S HOSPITAL ROOM - LATE AFTERNOON A bare room - one of the best available in the General Hospital. It contains a bed, a table with candles, chairs, a small forte-piano of the early nineteenth century. As Vogler enters, Old Salieri is sitting in a wheel-chair, looking out the window. His back is to us. The priest closes the door quietly behind him. VOGLER Herr Salieri? Old Salieri turns around to look at him. We see that his throat is bandaged expertly. He wears hospital garb, and over it the Civilian Medal and Chain with which we will later see the EMPEROR invest him. OLD SALIERI What do you want? VOGLER I am Father Vogler. I am a Chaplain here. I thought you might like to talk to someone. OLD SALIERI About what? VOGLER You tried to take your life. You do remember that, don't you? OLD SALIERI So? VOGLER In the sight of God that is a sin. OLD SALIERI What do you want? VOGLER Do you understand that you have sinned? Gravely. OLD SALIERI Leave me alone. VOGLER I cannot leave alone a soul in pain. OLD SALIERI Do you know who I am? You never heard of me, did you? VOGLER That makes no difference. All men are equal in God's eyes. OLD SALIERI Are they? VOGLER Offer me your confession. I can offer you God's forgiveness. OLD SALIERI I do not seek forgiveness. VOGLER My son, there is something dreadful on your soul. Unburden it to me. I'm here only for you. Please talk to me. OLD SALIERI How well are you trained in music? VOGLER I know a little. I studied it in my youth. OLD SALIERI Where? VOGLER Here in Vienna. OLD SALIERI Then you must know this. He propels his wheelchair to the forte-piano, and plays an unrecognizable melody. VOGLER I can't say I do. What is it? OLD SALIERI I'm surprised you don't know. It was a very popular tune in its day. I wrote it. How about this? He plays another tune. OLD SALIERI This one brought down the house when we played it first. He plays it with growing enthusiasm. CUT TO: INT. THE STAGE OF AN OPERA HOUSE - NIGHT - 1780'S We see the pretty soprano KATHERINA CAVALIERI, now about twenty-four, dressed in an elaborate mythological Persian costume, singing on stage. She's near the end of a very florid aria by Salieri. The audience applauds wildly. INT. OLD SALIERI'S HOSPITAL ROOM - LATE AFTERNOON - 1823 OLD SALIERI (taking his hands off the keys) Well? VOGLER I regret it is not too familiar. OLD SALIERI Can you recall no melody of mine? I was the most famous composer in Europe when you were still a boy. I wrote forty operas alone. What about this little thing? Slyly he plays the opening measure of Mozart's Eine Kleine Nachtmusik. The priest nods, smiling suddenly, and hums a little with the music. VOGLER Oh, I know that! That's charming! I didn't know you wrote that. OLD SALIERI I didn't. That was Mozart. Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart. You know who that is? VOGLER Of course. The man you accuse yourself of killing. OLD SALIERI Ah - you've heard that? VOGLER All Vienna has heard that. OLD SALIERI ( eagerly) And do they believe it? VOGLER Is it true? OLD SALIERI Do you believe it? VOGLER Should I? A very long pause. Salieri stares above the priest, seemingly lost in his own private world. VOGLER For God's sake, my son, if you have anything to confess, do it now! Give yourself some peace! A further pause. VOGLER Do you hear me? OLD SALIERI He was murdered, Father! Mozart! Cruelly murdered. Pause. VOGLER (almost whispering) Yes? Did you do it? Suddenly Old Salieri turns to him, a look of extreme innocence. OLD SALIERI He was my idol! I can't remember a time when I didn't know his name! When I was only fourteen he was already famous. Even in Legnago - the tiniest town in Italy - I knew of him. CUT TO: EXT. A SMALL TOWN SQUARE IN LOMBARDY, ITALY - DAY - 1780'S There are twelve children and twenty adults in the square. We see the fourteen-year-old Salieri blindfolded, playing a game of Blindman's Bluff with other Italian children, running about in the bright sunshine and laughing. OLD SALIERI (V.O.) I was still playing childish games when he was playing music for kings and emperors. Even the Pope in Rome! CUT TO: INT. A SALON IN THE VATICAN - DAY - 1780'S We see the six-year-old MOZART, also blindfolded, seated in a gilded chair on a pile of books, playing the harpsichord for the POPE and a suite of CARDINALS and other churchmen. Beside the little boy stands LEOPOLD, his father, smirking with pride. OLD SALIERI (V.O.) I admit I was jealous when I heard the tales they told about him. Not of the brilliant little prodigy himself, but of his father, who had taught him everything. The piece finishes. Leopold lowers the lid of the harpsichord and lifts up his little son to stand on it. Mozart removes the blindfold to show a pale little face with staring eyes. Both father and son bow. A Papal Chamberlain presents Leopold with a gold snuff box whilst the cardinals decorously applaud. Over this scene Old Salieri speaks. OLD SALIERI (V.O.) My father did not care for music. He wanted me only to be a merchant, like himself. As anonymous as he was. When I told how I wished I could be like Mozart, he would say, Why? Do you want to be a trained monkey? Would you like me to drag you around Europe doing tricks like a circus freak? How could I tell him what music meant to me? CUT TO: EXT. A COUNTRY CHURCH IN NORTH ITALY - DAY - 1780'S Serene music of the Italian Baroque - Pergolesi's Stabat Mater - sung by a choir of boys with organ accompaniment. We see the outside of the 17th-century church sitting in the wide landscape of Lombardy: sunlit fields, a dusty, white road, poplar trees. INT. THE CHURCH AT LEGNAGO - DAY - 1780'S The music continues and swells. We see the twelve-year-old Salieri seated between his plump and placid parents in the congregation, listening in rapture. His father is a heavy- looking, self-approving man, obviously indifferent to the music. A large and austere Christ on the cross hangs over the altar. Candles burn below his image. OLD SALIERI (V.O.) Even then a spray of sounded notes could make me dizzy, almost to falling. The boy falls forward on his knees. So do his parents and the other members of the congregation. He stares up at Christ who stares back at him. OLD SALIERI (V.O.) Whilst my father prayed earnestly to God to protect commerce, I would offer up secretly the proudest prayer a boy could think of. Lord, make me a great composer! Let me celebrate your glory through music - and be celebrated myself! Make me famous through the world, dear God! Make me immortal! After I die let people speak my name forever with love for what I wrote! In return I vow I will give you my chastity - my industry, my deepest humility, every hour of my life. And I will help my fellow man all I can. Amen and amen! The music swells to a crescendo. The candles flare. We see the Christ through the flames looking at the boy benignly. OLD SALIERI (V.O.) And do you know what happened? A miracle! INT. DINING ROOM IN THE SALIERI HOUSE - DAY - 1780'S CU, a large cooked fish on a thick china plate. Camera pulls back to show the Salieri family at dinner. Father Salieri sits at the head of the table, a napkin tucked into his chin. Mother Salieri is serving the fish into portions and handing them round. Two maiden aunts are in attendance, wearing black, and of course the young boy. Father Salieri receives his plate of fish and starts to eat greedily. Suddenly there is a gasp - he starts to choke violently on a fish bone. All the women get up and crowd around him, thumping and pummeling him, but it is in vain. Father Salieri collapses. INT. OLD SALIERI'S HOSPITAL ROOM - LATE AFTERNOON - 1823 OLD SALIERI Suddenly he was dead. Just like that! And my life changed forever. My mother said, Go. Study music if you really want to. Off with you! And off I went as quick as I could and never saw Italy again. Of course, I knew God had arranged it all; that was obvious. One moment I was a frustrated boy in an obscure little town. The next I was here, in Vienna, city of musicians, sixteen years old and studying under Gluck! Gluck, Father. Do you know who he was? The greatest composer of his time. And he loved me! That was the wonder. He taught me everything he knew. And when I was ready, introduced me personally to the Emperor! Emperor Joseph - the musical king! Within a few years I was his court composer. Wasn't that incredible? Imperial Composer to His Majesty! Actually the man had no ear at all, but what did it matter? He adored my music, that was enough. Night after night I sat right next to the Emperor of Austria, playing duets with him, correcting the royal sight-reading. Tell me, if you had been me, wouldn't you have thought God had accepted your vow? And believe me, I honoured it. I was a model of virtue. I kept my hands off women, worked hours every day teaching students, many of them for free, sitting on endless committees to help poor musicians - work and work and work, that was all my life. And it was wonderful! Everybody liked me. I liked myself. I was the most successful musician in Vienna. And the happiest. Till he came. Mozart. CUT TO: INT. THE ARCHBISHOP OF SALZBURG'S RESIDENCE - VIENNA - DAY - 1780'S A grand room crowded with guests. A small group of Gypsy musicians is playing in the background. Thirteen members of the Archbishop's orchestra - all wind players, complete with 18th-century wind instruments: elaborate-looking bassoons, basset horns, etc. and wearing their employer's livery - are laying out music on stands at one end of the room. At the other end is a large gilded chair, bearing the arms of the ARCHBISHOP OF SALZBURG. A throng of people is standing, talking, and preparing to sit upon the rows of waiting chairs to hear a concert. OLD SALIERI (V.O.) One day he came to Vienna to play some of his music at the residence of his employer, the Prince-Archbishop of Salzburg. Eagerly I went there to seek him out. That night changed my life. We see Salieri, age thirty-one, a neat, carefully turned-cut man in decent black clothes and clean white linen, walking through the crowd of guests. We follow him. OLD SALIERI (V.O.) As I went through the salon, I played a game with myself. This man had written his first concerto at the age of four; his first symphony at seven; a full-scale opera at twelve. Did it show? Is talent like that written on the face? We see shots of assorted young men staring back at Salieri as he moves through the crowd. OLD SALIERI (V.O.) Which one of them could he be? Some of the men recognize Salieri and bow respectfully. Then suddenly a servant bearing a large tray of cakes and pastries stalks past. Instantly riveted by the sight of such delights, Salieri follows him out of the Grand Salon. INT. A PALACE CORRIDOR - DAY - 1780'S The servant marches along bearing his tray of pastries aloft. Salieri follows him. The servant turns into: INT. BUFFET ROOM IN THE PALACE - DAY - 1780'S Salieri's POV: several tables, dressed to the floor with cloths are loaded with many plates of confectionery. It is, in fact, Salieri's idea of paradise! The servant puts his tray down on one of the tables and withdraws from the room. INT. A PALACE CORRIDOR - DAY - 1780'S Salieri turns away so as not to be noticed by the servant. As soon as the man disappears, Salieri sneaks into the buffet room. INT. BUFFET ROOM IN THE PALACE - DAY - 1780'S Salieri enters the room and looks about him cautiously. He is salivating with anticipation as he stares at the feast of sweet things. His attention is attracted in particular by a huge pile of dark chocolate balls arranged in the shape of a pineapple. He reaches out a hand to steal one of the balls, but at the same moment he hears giggling coming toward him. He ducks down behind the pastry table. A girl - CONSTANZE - rushes into the room. She runs straight across it and hides herself behind one of the tables. After a beat of total silence, MOZART runs into the room, stops, and looks around. He is age twenty-six, wearing a fine wig and a brilliant coat with the insignia of the Archbishop of Salzburg upon it. He is puzzled; Constanze has disappeared. Baffled, he turns and is about to leave the room, when Constanze suddenly squeaks from under the cloth like a tiny mouse. Instantly Mozart drops to all fours and starts crawling across the floor, meowing and hissing like a naughty cat. Watched by an astonished Salieri, Mozart disappears under the cloth and obviously pounces upon Constanze. We hear a high-pitched giggle, which is going to characterize Mozart throughout the film. CUT TO: INT. PALACE GRAND SALON - DAY - 1780'S The throng is mostly seated. The musicians are in their places, holding their various exotic-looking wind instruments; the candles are all lit. A Majordomo appears and bangs his staff on the floor for attention. Immediately COLLOREDO, Prince-Archbishop of Salzburg enters. He is a small self- important figure of fifty in a wig, surmounted by a scarlet skullcap. He is followed by his Chamberlain, the Count ARCO. Everyone stands. The Archbishop goes to his throne and sits. His guests sit also. Arco gives the signal to start the music. Nothing happens. Instead, a wind musician gets up, approaches the Chamberlain and whispers in his ear. Arco in turn whispers to the Archbishop. ARCO Mozart is not here. COLLOREDO Where is he? ARCO They're looking for him, Your Grace. INT. A PALACE CORRIDOR - DAY - 1780'S Three servants are opening doors and looking into rooms going off the corridor. CUT TO: INT. PALACE GRAND SALON - DAY - 1780'S The guests are turning around and looking at the Archbishop. The musicians are watching. There is puzzlement and a murmur of comment. The Archbishop tightens his lip. COLLOREDO (to Arco) We'll start without him. INT. PALACE BUFFET ROOM - DAY - 1780'S Mozart is on his knees before the tablecloth, which reaches to the floor. Under it is Constanze. We hear her giggling as he talks. MOZART Miaouw! Miaouw! Mouse-wouse? It's Puss-wuss, fangs-wangs. Paws-claws. Pounce-bounce! He grabs her ankle. She screams. He pulls her out by her leg. CONSTANZE Stop it. Stop it! They roll on the floor. He tickles her. CONSTANZE Stop it! MOZART I am! I am! I'm stopping it - slowly. You see! Look, I've stopped. Now we are going back. He tries to drag her back under the table. CONSTANZE No! No! No! MOZART Yes! Back! Back! Listen - don't you know where you are? CONSTANZE Where? MOZART We are in the Residence of the Fartsbishop of Salzburg. CONSTANZE Fartsbishop! She laughs delightedly, then addresses an imaginary Archbishop. CONSTANZE Your Grace, I've got something to tell you. I want to complain about this man. MOZART Go ahead, tell him. Tell them all. They won't understand you anyway. CONSTANZE Why not? MOZART Because here everything goes backwards. People walk backwards, dance backwards, sing backwards, and talk backwards. CONSTANZE That's stupid. MOZART Why? People fart backwards. CONSTANZE Do you think that's funny? MOZART Yes, I think it's brilliant. You've been doing it for years. He gives a high pitched giggle. CONSTANZE Oh, ha, ha, ha. MOZART Sra-I'm-sick! Sra-I'm sick! CONSTANZE Yes, you are. You're very sick. MOZART No, no. Say it backwards, shit-wit. Sra-I'm-sick Say it backwards! CONSTANZE (working it out) Sra-I'm-sick. Sick - kiss I'm - my Kiss my! Sra-I'm-sick - Kiss my arse! MOZART Em iram! Em iram! CONSTANZE No, I'm not playing this game. MOZART No, this is serious. Say it backwards. CONSTANZE No! MOZART Just say it - you'll see. It's very serious. Em iram! Em iram! CONSTANZE Iram - marry Em - marry me! No, no! You're a fiend. I'm not going to marry a fiend. A dirty fiend at that. MOZART Ui-vol-i-tub! CONSTANZE Tub - but i-tub - but I vol - love but I love ui - You. I love you! The mood becomes suddenly softer. She kisses him. They embrace. Then he spoils it. MOZART Tish-I'm tee. What's that? CONSTANZE What? MOZART Tish-I'm-tee. CONSTANZE Eat MOZART Yes. CONSTANZE Eat my - ah! Shocked, she strikes at him. At the same moment the music starts in the salon next door. We hear the opening of the Serenade for Thirteen Wind Instruments, K. MOZART My music! They've started! They've started without me! He leaps up, disheveled and rumpled and runs out of the room. Salieri watches in amazement and disgust. CUT TO: INT. PALACE CORRIDOR - DAY - 1780'S The music is louder. Mozart hastens towards the Grand Salon away from the buffet room, adjusting his dress as he goes. INT. GRAND SALON - DAY - 1780'S The opening of the Serenade is being tentatively conducted by the leader of the wind-musicians. Guests turn around as Mozart appears - bowing to the Archbishop - and walks with an attempt at dignity to the dais where the wind band is playing. The leader yields his place to the composer and Mozart smoothly takes over conducting. Constanze, deeply embarrassed, sneaks into the room and seats herself at the back. INT. PALACE BUFFET ROOM - DAY - 1780'S The music fades down. Salieri stands shocked from his inadvertent eavesdropping. After a second he moves almost in a trance toward the door; the music dissolves. INT. GRAND SALON - DAY - 1780'S Mozart is conducting the Adagio from his Serenade (K. 361), guiding the thirteen wind instrumentalists. The squeezebox opening of the movement begins. Salieri appears at the door at the back of the salon. He stares in disbelief at Mozart. OLD SALIERI (V.O.) So that was he! That giggling, dirty- minded creature I'd just seen crawling on the floor. Mozart. The phenomenon whose legend had haunted my youth. Impossible. The music swells up and Salieri listens to it with eyes closed - amazed, transported - suddenly engulfed by the sound. Finally it fades down and away and changes into applause. Salieri opens his eyes. The audience is clearly delighted. Mozart bows to them, also delighted. Colloredo rises abruptly, and without looking at Mozart or applauding and leaves the Salon. Count Arco approaches the composer. Mozart turns to him, radiant. ARCO Follow me, please. The Archbishop would like a word. MOZART Certainly! He follows Arco out of the room, through a throng of admirers. INT. ANOTHER PALACE CORRIDOR - DAY - 1780'S Mozart and Arco walk side by side. They pass Salieri who is staring at Mozart in fascination. As they disappear, he steals toward the music stands, unable to help himself. MOZART Well, I think that went off remarkably well, don't you? ARCO Indeed. MOZART These Viennese certainly know good music when they hear it. ARCO His Grace is very angry with you. MOZART What do you mean? They arrive at the door of Colloredo's private apartment. ARCO You are to come in here and ask his pardon. Arco opens the door. INT. ARCHBISHOP'S PRIVATE ROOM - DAY - 1780'S The Archbishop is sitting, chatting to quests. Among them are several ladies. Arco approaches him obsequiously. ARCO Your Grace. COLLOREDO Ah, Mozart. Why? MOZART Why what, sir? COLLOREDO Why do I have to be humiliated in front of my guests by one of my own servants? MOZART Humiliated? COLLOREDO How much provocation am I to endure from you? The more license I allow you, the more you take. The company watches this scene, deeply interested. MOZART If His Grace is not satisfied with me, he can dismiss me. COLLOREDO I wish you to return immediately to Salzburg. Your father is waiting for you there patiently. I will speak to you further when I come. MOZART No, Your Grace! I mean with all humility, no. I would rather you dismissed me. It's obvious I don't satisfy. COLLOREDO Then try harder, Mozart. I have no intention of dismissing you. You will remain in my service and learn your place. Go now. He extends his hand to be kissed. Mozart does it with a furious grace, then leaves the room. As he opens the door we see: INT. PALACE CORRIDOR - DAY - 1780'S A group of people who have attended the concert, among them Constanze, are standing outside the private apartment. At sight of the composer they break into sustained applause. Mozart is suddenly delighted. He throws the door wide open so that the guests can see into the private apartment where the Archbishop sits

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Amadeus Script at IMSDb. var _gaq = _gaq || []; _gaq.push(['_setAccount', 'UA-3785444-3']); _gaq.push(['_trackPageview']); (function() { var ga = document.createElement('script'); ga.type = 'text/javascript'; ga.async = true; ga.src = ('https:' == document.location.protocol ? 'https://ssl' : 'http://www') + '.google-analytics.com/ga.js'; var s = document.getElementsByTagName('script')[0]; s.parentNode.insertBefore(ga, s); })(); The Internet Movie Script Database (IMSDb) The web's largest movie script resource! Search IMSDb Alphabetical # A B C D E F G H I J K L M N O P Q R S T U V W X Y Z Genre Action Adventure Animation Comedy Crime Drama Family Fantasy Film-Noir Horror Musical Mystery Romance Sci-Fi Short Thriller War Western Sponsor TV Transcripts Futurama Seinfeld South Park Stargate SG-1 Lost The 4400 International French scripts Movie Software Rip from DVD Rip Blu-Ray Latest Comments Star Wars: Revenge of the Sith10/10 Star Wars: The Force Awakens10/10 Batman Begins9/10 Collateral10/10 Jackie Brown8/10 Movie Chat Message Yell ! ALL SCRIPTS if (window!= top) top.location.href=location.href // --> AMADEUS "AMADEUS" by Peter Shaffer Final Draft INT. STAIRCASE OUTSIDE OLD SALIERI'S SALON - NIGHT - 1823 Total darkness. We hear an old man's voice, distinct and in distress. It is OLD SALIERI. He uses a mixture of English and occasionally Italian. OLD SALIERI Mozart! Mozart! Mozart. Forgive me! Forgive your assassin! Mozart! A faint light illuminates the screen. Flickeringly, we see an eighteenth century balustrade and a flight of stone stairs. We are looking down into the wall of the staircase from the point of view of the landing. Up the stair is coming a branched candlestick held by Salieri's VALET. By his side is Salieri's COOK, bearing a large dish of sugared cakes and biscuits. Both men are desperately worried: the Valet is thin and middle-aged; the Cook, plump and Italian. It is very cold. They wear shawls over their night-dresses and clogs on their feet. They wheeze as they climb. The candles throw their shadows up onto the peeling walls of the house, which is evidently an old one and in bad decay. A cat scuttles swiftly between their bare legs, as they reach the salon door. The Valet tries the handle. It is locked. Behind it the voice goes on, rising in volume. OLD SALIERI Show some mercy! I beg you. I beg you! Show mercy to a guilty man! The Valet knocks gently on the door. The voice stops. VALET Open the door, Signore! Please! Be good now! We've brought you something special. Something you're going to love. Silence. VALET Signore Salieri! Open the door. Come now. Be good! The voice of Old Salieri continues again, further off now, and louder. We hear a noise as if a window is being opened. OLD SALIERI Mozart! Mozart! I confess it! Listen! I confess! The two servants look at each other in alarm. Then the Valet hands the candlestick to the Cook and takes a sugared cake from the dish, scrambling as quickly as he can back down the stairs. EXT. THE STREET OUTSIDE SALIERI'S HOUSE - VIENNA - NIGHT The street is filled with people: ten cabs with drivers, five children, fifteen adults, two doormen, fifteen dancing couples and a sled and three dogs. It is a windy night. Snow is falling and whirling about. People are passing on foot, holding their cloaks tightly around them. Some of them are revelers in fancy dress: they wear masks on their faces or hanging around their necks, as if returning from parties. Now they are glancing up at the facade of the old house. The window above the street is open and Old Salieri stands there calling to the sky: a sharp-featured, white-haired Italian over seventy years old, wearing a stained dressing gown. OLD SALIERI Mozart! Mozart! I cannot bear it any longer! I confess! I confess what I did! I'm guilty! I killed you! Sir I confess! I killed you! The door of the house bursts open. The Valet hobbles out, holding the sugared cake. The wind catches at his shawl. OLD SALIERI Mozart, perdonami! Forgive your assassin! Piet ! Piet ! Forgive your assassin! Forgive me! Forgive! Forgive! VALET (looking up to the window) That's all right, Signore! He heard you! He forgave you! He wants you to go inside now and shut the window! Old Salieri stares down at him. Some of the passersby have now stopped and are watching this spectacle. VALET Come on, Signore! Look what I have for you! I can't give it to you from down here, can I? Old Salieri looks at him in contempt. Then he turns away back into the room, shutting the window with a bang. Through the glass, the old man stares down at the group of onlookers in the street. They stare back at him in confusion. BYSTANDER Who is that? VALET No one, sir. He'll be all right. Poor man. He's a little unhappy, you know. He makes a sign indicating 'crazy,' and goes back inside the house. The onlookers keep staring. CUT TO: INT. LANDING OUTSIDE OLD SALIERI'S SALON - NIGHT The Cook is standing holding the candlestick in one hand, the dish of cakes in the other. The Valet arrives, panting. VALET Did he open? The Cook, scared, shakes his head: no. The Valet again knocks on the door. VALET Here I am, Signore. Now open the door. He eats the sugared cake in his hand, elaborately and noisily. VALET Mmmm - this is good! This is the most delicious thing I ever ate, believe me! Signore, you don't know what you're missing! Mmmm! We hear a thump from inside the bedroom. VALET Now that's enough, Signore! Open! We hear a terrible, throaty groaning. VALET If you don't open this door, we're going to eat everything. There'll be nothing left for you. And I'm not going to bring you anything more. He looks down. From under the door we see a trickle of blood flowing. In horror, the two men stare at it. The dish of cakes falls from the Cook's hand and shatters. He sets the candlestick down on the floor. Both servants run at the door frantically - once, twice, three times - and the frail lock gives. The door flies open. Immediately, the stormy, frenzied opening of Mozart's Symphony No. 25 (the Little G Minor) begins. We see what the servants see. INT. OLD SALIERI'S SALON - NIGHT Old Salieri lies on the floor in a pool of blood, an open razor in his hand. He has cut his throat but is still alive. He gestures at them. They run to him. Barely, we glimpse the room - an old chair, old tables piled with books, a forte- piano, a chamber-pot on the floor - as the Valet and the Cook struggle to lift their old Master, and bind his bleeding throat with a napkin. INT. BALLROOM - NIGHT Twenty-five dancing couples, fifty guests, ten servants, full orchestra. As the music slows a little, we see a Masquerade Ball in progress. A crowded room of dancers is executing the slow portion of a dance fashionable in the early 1820's. EXT. STREET OUTSIDE SALIERI'S HOUSE - NIGHT As the fast music returns, we see Old Salieri being carried out of his house on a stretcher by two attendants, and placed in a horse-drawn wagon under the supervision of a middle- aged doctor in a tall hat. This is DOCTOR GULDEN. He gets in beside his patient. The driver whips up the horse, and the wagon dashes off through the still-falling snow. MONTAGE: EXT. FOUR STREETS OF VIENNA AND INT. THE WAGON - NIGHT The wagon is galloping through the snowy streets of the city. Inside the conveyance we see Old Salieri wrapped in blankets, half-conscious, being held by the hospital attendants. Doctor Gulden stares at him grimly. The wagon arrives outside the General Hospital of Vienna. CUT TO: INT. A HOSPITAL CORRIDOR - LATE AFTERNOON A wide, white-washed corridor. Doctor Gulden is walking down it with a priest, a man of about forty, concerned, but somewhat self-important. This is Father VOGLER, Chaplain at the hospital. In the corridor as they walk, we note several patients -- some of them visibly disturbed mentally. All patients wear white linen smocks. Doctor Gulden wears a dark frock-coat; Vogler, a cassock. DOCTOR GULDEN He's going to live. It's much harder to cut your throat than most people imagine. They stop outside a door. DOCTOR GULDEN Here we are. Do you wish me to come in with you? VOGLER No, Doctor. Thank you. Vogler nods and opens the door. INT. OLD SALIERI'S HOSPITAL ROOM - LATE AFTERNOON A bare room - one of the best available in the General Hospital. It contains a bed, a table with candles, chairs, a small forte-piano of the early nineteenth century. As Vogler enters, Old Salieri is sitting in a wheel-chair, looking out the window. His back is to us. The priest closes the door quietly behind him. VOGLER Herr Salieri? Old Salieri turns around to look at him. We see that his throat is bandaged expertly. He wears hospital garb, and over it the Civilian Medal and Chain with which we will later see the EMPEROR invest him. OLD SALIERI What do you want? VOGLER I am Father Vogler. I am a Chaplain here. I thought you might like to talk to someone. OLD SALIERI About what? VOGLER You tried to take your life. You do remember that, don't you? OLD SALIERI So? VOGLER In the sight of God that is a sin. OLD SALIERI What do you want? VOGLER Do you understand that you have sinned? Gravely. OLD SALIERI Leave me alone. VOGLER I cannot leave alone a soul in pain. OLD SALIERI Do you know who I am? You never heard of me, did you? VOGLER That makes no difference. All men are equal in God's eyes. OLD SALIERI Are they? VOGLER Offer me your confession. I can offer you God's forgiveness. OLD SALIERI I do not seek forgiveness. VOGLER My son, there is something dreadful on your soul. Unburden it to me. I'm here only for you. Please talk to me. OLD SALIERI How well are you trained in music? VOGLER I know a little. I studied it in my youth. OLD SALIERI Where? VOGLER Here in Vienna. OLD SALIERI Then you must know this. He propels his wheelchair to the forte-piano, and plays an unrecognizable melody. VOGLER I can't say I do. What is it? OLD SALIERI I'm surprised you don't know. It was a very popular tune in its day. I wrote it. How about this? He plays another tune. OLD SALIERI This one brought down the house when we played it first. He plays it with growing enthusiasm. CUT TO: INT. THE STAGE OF AN OPERA HOUSE - NIGHT - 1780'S We see the pretty soprano KATHERINA CAVALIERI, now about twenty-four, dressed in an elaborate mythological Persian costume, singing on stage. She's near the end of a very florid aria by Salieri. The audience applauds wildly. INT. OLD SALIERI'S HOSPITAL ROOM - LATE AFTERNOON - 1823 OLD SALIERI (taking his hands off the keys) Well? VOGLER I regret it is not too familiar. OLD SALIERI Can you recall no melody of mine? I was the most famous composer in Europe when you were still a boy. I wrote forty operas alone. What about this little thing? Slyly he plays the opening measure of Mozart's Eine Kleine Nachtmusik. The priest nods, smiling suddenly, and hums a little with the music. VOGLER Oh, I know that! That's charming! I didn't know you wrote that. OLD SALIERI I didn't. That was Mozart. Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart. You know who that is? VOGLER Of course. The man you accuse yourself of killing. OLD SALIERI Ah - you've heard that? VOGLER All Vienna has heard that. OLD SALIERI ( eagerly) And do they believe it? VOGLER Is it true? OLD SALIERI Do you believe it? VOGLER Should I? A very long pause. Salieri stares above the priest, seemingly lost in his own private world. VOGLER For God's sake, my son, if you have anything to confess, do it now! Give yourself some peace! A further pause. VOGLER Do you hear me? OLD SALIERI He was murdered, Father! Mozart! Cruelly murdered. Pause. VOGLER (almost whispering) Yes? Did you do it? Suddenly Old Salieri turns to him, a look of extreme innocence. OLD SALIERI He was my idol! I can't remember a time when I didn't know his name! When I was only fourteen he was already famous. Even in Legnago - the tiniest town in Italy - I knew of him. CUT TO: EXT. A SMALL TOWN SQUARE IN LOMBARDY, ITALY - DAY - 1780'S There are twelve children and twenty adults in the square. We see the fourteen-year-old Salieri blindfolded, playing a game of Blindman's Bluff with other Italian children, running about in the bright sunshine and laughing. OLD SALIERI (V.O.) I was still playing childish games when he was playing music for kings and emperors. Even the Pope in Rome! CUT TO: INT. A SALON IN THE VATICAN - DAY - 1780'S We see the six-year-old MOZART, also blindfolded, seated in a gilded chair on a pile of books, playing the harpsichord for the POPE and a suite of CARDINALS and other churchmen. Beside the little boy stands LEOPOLD, his father, smirking with pride. OLD SALIERI (V.O.) I admit I was jealous when I heard the tales they told about him. Not of the brilliant little prodigy himself, but of his father, who had taught him everything. The piece finishes. Leopold lowers the lid of the harpsichord and lifts up his little son to stand on it. Mozart removes the blindfold to show a pale little face with staring eyes. Both father and son bow. A Papal Chamberlain presents Leopold with a gold snuff box whilst the cardinals decorously applaud. Over this scene Old Salieri speaks. OLD SALIERI (V.O.) My father did not care for music. He wanted me only to be a merchant, like himself. As anonymous as he was. When I told how I wished I could be like Mozart, he would say, Why? Do you want to be a trained monkey? Would you like me to drag you around Europe doing tricks like a circus freak? How could I tell him what music meant to me? CUT TO: EXT. A COUNTRY CHURCH IN NORTH ITALY - DAY - 1780'S Serene music of the Italian Baroque - Pergolesi's Stabat Mater - sung by a choir of boys with organ accompaniment. We see the outside of the 17th-century church sitting in the wide landscape of Lombardy: sunlit fields, a dusty, white road, poplar trees. INT. THE CHURCH AT LEGNAGO - DAY - 1780'S The music continues and swells. We see the twelve-year-old Salieri seated between his plump and placid parents in the congregation, listening in rapture. His father is a heavy- looking, self-approving man, obviously indifferent to the music. A large and austere Christ on the cross hangs over the altar. Candles burn below his image. OLD SALIERI (V.O.) Even then a spray of sounded notes could make me dizzy, almost to falling. The boy falls forward on his knees. So do his parents and the other members of the congregation. He stares up at Christ who stares back at him. OLD SALIERI (V.O.) Whilst my father prayed earnestly to God to protect commerce, I would offer up secretly the proudest prayer a boy could think of. Lord, make me a great composer! Let me celebrate your glory through music - and be celebrated myself! Make me famous through the world, dear God! Make me immortal! After I die let people speak my name forever with love for what I wrote! In return I vow I will give you my chastity - my industry, my deepest humility, every hour of my life. And I will help my fellow man all I can. Amen and amen! The music swells to a crescendo. The candles flare. We see the Christ through the flames looking at the boy benignly. OLD SALIERI (V.O.) And do you know what happened? A miracle! INT. DINING ROOM IN THE SALIERI HOUSE - DAY - 1780'S CU, a large cooked fish on a thick china plate. Camera pulls back to show the Salieri family at dinner. Father Salieri sits at the head of the table, a napkin tucked into his chin. Mother Salieri is serving the fish into portions and handing them round. Two maiden aunts are in attendance, wearing black, and of course the young boy. Father Salieri receives his plate of fish and starts to eat greedily. Suddenly there is a gasp - he starts to choke violently on a fish bone. All the women get up and crowd around him, thumping and pummeling him, but it is in vain. Father Salieri collapses. INT. OLD SALIERI'S HOSPITAL ROOM - LATE AFTERNOON - 1823 OLD SALIERI Suddenly he was dead. Just like that! And my life changed forever. My mother said, Go. Study music if you really want to. Off with you! And off I went as quick as I could and never saw Italy again. Of course, I knew God had arranged it all; that was obvious. One moment I was a frustrated boy in an obscure little town. The next I was here, in Vienna, city of musicians, sixteen years old and studying under Gluck! Gluck, Father. Do you know who he was? The greatest composer of his time. And he loved me! That was the wonder. He taught me everything he knew. And when I was ready, introduced me personally to the Emperor! Emperor Joseph - the musical king! Within a few years I was his court composer. Wasn't that incredible? Imperial Composer to His Majesty! Actually the man had no ear at all, but what did it matter? He adored my music, that was enough. Night after night I sat right next to the Emperor of Austria, playing duets with him, correcting the royal sight-reading. Tell me, if you had been me, wouldn't you have thought God had accepted your vow? And believe me, I honoured it. I was a model of virtue. I kept my hands off women, worked hours every day teaching students, many of them for free, sitting on endless committees to help poor musicians - work and work and work, that was all my life. And it was wonderful! Everybody liked me. I liked myself. I was the most successful musician in Vienna. And the happiest. Till he came. Mozart. CUT TO: INT. THE ARCHBISHOP OF SALZBURG'S RESIDENCE - VIENNA - DAY - 1780'S A grand room crowded with guests. A small group of Gypsy musicians is playing in the background. Thirteen members of the Archbishop's orchestra - all wind players, complete with 18th-century wind instruments: elaborate-looking bassoons, basset horns, etc. and wearing their employer's livery - are laying out music on stands at one end of the room. At the other end is a large gilded chair, bearing the arms of the ARCHBISHOP OF SALZBURG. A throng of people is standing, talking, and preparing to sit upon the rows of waiting chairs to hear a concert. OLD SALIERI (V.O.) One day he came to Vienna to play some of his music at the residence of his employer, the Prince-Archbishop of Salzburg. Eagerly I went there to seek him out. That night changed my life. We see Salieri, age thirty-one, a neat, carefully turned-cut man in decent black clothes and clean white linen, walking through the crowd of guests. We follow him. OLD SALIERI (V.O.) As I went through the salon, I played a game with myself. This man had written his first concerto at the age of four; his first symphony at seven; a full-scale opera at twelve. Did it show? Is talent like that written on the face? We see shots of assorted young men staring back at Salieri as he moves through the crowd. OLD SALIERI (V.O.) Which one of them could he be? Some of the men recognize Salieri and bow respectfully. Then suddenly a servant bearing a large tray of cakes and pastries stalks past. Instantly riveted by the sight of such delights, Salieri follows him out of the Grand Salon. INT. A PALACE CORRIDOR - DAY - 1780'S The servant marches along bearing his tray of pastries aloft. Salieri follows him. The servant turns into: INT. BUFFET ROOM IN THE PALACE - DAY - 1780'S Salieri's POV: several tables, dressed to the floor with cloths are loaded with many plates of confectionery. It is, in fact, Salieri's idea of paradise! The servant puts his tray down on one of the tables and withdraws from the room. INT. A PALACE CORRIDOR - DAY - 1780'S Salieri turns away so as not to be noticed by the servant. As soon as the man disappears, Salieri sneaks into the buffet room. INT. BUFFET ROOM IN THE PALACE - DAY - 1780'S Salieri enters the room and looks about him cautiously. He is salivating with anticipation as he stares at the feast of sweet things. His attention is attracted in particular by a huge pile of dark chocolate balls arranged in the shape of a pineapple. He reaches out a hand to steal one of the balls, but at the same moment he hears giggling coming toward him. He ducks down behind the pastry table. A girl - CONSTANZE - rushes into the room. She runs straight across it and hides herself behind one of the tables. After a beat of total silence, MOZART runs into the room, stops, and looks around. He is age twenty-six, wearing a fine wig and a brilliant coat with the insignia of the Archbishop of Salzburg upon it. He is puzzled; Constanze has disappeared. Baffled, he turns and is about to leave the room, when Constanze suddenly squeaks from under the cloth like a tiny mouse. Instantly Mozart drops to all fours and starts crawling across the floor, meowing and hissing like a naughty cat. Watched by an astonished Salieri, Mozart disappears under the cloth and obviously pounces upon Constanze. We hear a high-pitched giggle, which is going to characterize Mozart throughout the film. CUT TO: INT. PALACE GRAND SALON - DAY - 1780'S The throng is mostly seated. The musicians are in their places, holding their various exotic-looking wind instruments; the candles are all lit. A Majordomo appears and bangs his staff on the floor for attention. Immediately COLLOREDO, Prince-Archbishop of Salzburg enters. He is a small self- important figure of fifty in a wig, surmounted by a scarlet skullcap. He is followed by his Chamberlain, the Count ARCO. Everyone stands. The Archbishop goes to his throne and sits. His guests sit also. Arco gives the signal to start the music. Nothing happens. Instead, a wind musician gets up, approaches the Chamberlain and whispers in his ear. Arco in turn whispers to the Archbishop. ARCO Mozart is not here. COLLOREDO Where is he? ARCO They're looking for him, Your Grace. INT. A PALACE CORRIDOR - DAY - 1780'S Three servants are opening doors and looking into rooms going off the corridor. CUT TO: INT. PALACE GRAND SALON - DAY - 1780'S The guests are turning around and looking at the Archbishop. The musicians are watching. There is puzzlement and a murmur of comment. The Archbishop tightens his lip. COLLOREDO (to Arco) We'll start without him. INT. PALACE BUFFET ROOM - DAY - 1780'S Mozart is on his knees before the tablecloth, which reaches to the floor. Under it is Constanze. We hear her giggling as he talks. MOZART Miaouw! Miaouw! Mouse-wouse? It's Puss-wuss, fangs-wangs. Paws-claws. Pounce-bounce! He grabs her ankle. She screams. He pulls her out by her leg. CONSTANZE Stop it. Stop it! They roll on the floor. He tickles her. CONSTANZE Stop it! MOZART I am! I am! I'm stopping it - slowly. You see! Look, I've stopped. Now we are going back. He tries to drag her back under the table. CONSTANZE No! No! No! MOZART Yes! Back! Back! Listen - don't you know where you are? CONSTANZE Where? MOZART We are in the Residence of the Fartsbishop of Salzburg. CONSTANZE Fartsbishop! She laughs delightedly, then addresses an imaginary Archbishop. CONSTANZE Your Grace, I've got something to tell you. I want to complain about this man. MOZART Go ahead, tell him. Tell them all. They won't understand you anyway. CONSTANZE Why not? MOZART Because here everything goes backwards. People walk backwards, dance backwards, sing backwards, and talk backwards. CONSTANZE That's stupid. MOZART Why? People fart backwards. CONSTANZE Do you think that's funny? MOZART Yes, I think it's brilliant. You've been doing it for years. He gives a high pitched giggle. CONSTANZE Oh, ha, ha, ha. MOZART Sra-I'm-sick! Sra-I'm sick! CONSTANZE Yes, you are. You're very sick. MOZART No, no. Say it backwards, shit-wit. Sra-I'm-sick Say it backwards! CONSTANZE (working it out) Sra-I'm-sick. Sick - kiss I'm - my Kiss my! Sra-I'm-sick - Kiss my arse! MOZART Em iram! Em iram! CONSTANZE No, I'm not playing this game. MOZART No, this is serious. Say it backwards. CONSTANZE No! MOZART Just say it - you'll see. It's very serious. Em iram! Em iram! CONSTANZE Iram - marry Em - marry me! No, no! You're a fiend. I'm not going to marry a fiend. A dirty fiend at that. MOZART Ui-vol-i-tub! CONSTANZE Tub - but i-tub - but I vol - love but I love ui - You. I love you! The mood becomes suddenly softer. She kisses him. They embrace. Then he spoils it. MOZART Tish-I'm tee. What's that? CONSTANZE What? MOZART Tish-I'm-tee. CONSTANZE Eat MOZART Yes. CONSTANZE Eat my - ah! Shocked, she strikes at him. At the same moment the music starts in the salon next door. We hear the opening of the Serenade for Thirteen Wind Instruments, K. MOZART My music! They've started! They've started without me! He leaps up, disheveled and rumpled and runs out of the room. Salieri watches in amazement and disgust. CUT TO: INT. PALACE CORRIDOR - DAY - 1780'S The music is louder. Mozart hastens towards the Grand Salon away from the buffet room, adjusting his dress as he goes. INT. GRAND SALON - DAY - 1780'S The opening of the Serenade is being tentatively conducted by the leader of the wind-musicians. Guests turn around as Mozart appears - bowing to the Archbishop - and walks with an attempt at dignity to the dais where the wind band is playing. The leader yields his place to the composer and Mozart smoothly takes over conducting. Constanze, deeply embarrassed, sneaks into the room and seats herself at the back. INT. PALACE BUFFET ROOM - DAY - 1780'S The music fades down. Salieri stands shocked from his inadvertent eavesdropping. After a second he moves almost in a trance toward the door; the music dissolves. INT. GRAND SALON - DAY - 1780'S Mozart is conducting the Adagio from his Serenade (K. 361), guiding the thirteen wind instrumentalists. The squeezebox opening of the movement begins. Salieri appears at the door at the back of the salon. He stares in disbelief at Mozart. OLD SALIERI (V.O.) So that was he! That giggling, dirty- minded creature I'd just seen crawling on the floor. Mozart. The phenomenon whose legend had haunted my youth. Impossible. The music swells up and Salieri listens to it with eyes closed - amazed, transported - suddenly engulfed by the sound. Finally it fades down and away and changes into applause. Salieri opens his eyes. The audience is clearly delighted. Mozart bows to them, also delighted. Colloredo rises abruptly, and without looking at Mozart or applauding and leaves the Salon. Count Arco approaches the composer. Mozart turns to him, radiant. ARCO Follow me, please. The Archbishop would like a word. MOZART Certainly! He follows Arco out of the room, through a throng of admirers. INT. ANOTHER PALACE CORRIDOR - DAY - 1780'S Mozart and Arco walk side by side. They pass Salieri who is staring at Mozart in fascination. As they disappear, he steals toward the music stands, unable to help himself. MOZART Well, I think that went off remarkably well, don't you? ARCO Indeed. MOZART These Viennese certainly know good music when they hear it. ARCO His Grace is very angry with you. MOZART What do you mean? They arrive at the door of Colloredo's private apartment. ARCO You are to come in here and ask his pardon. Arco opens the door. INT. ARCHBISHOP'S PRIVATE ROOM - DAY - 1780'S The Archbishop is sitting, chatting to quests. Among them are several ladies. Arco approaches him obsequiously. ARCO Your Grace. COLLOREDO Ah, Mozart. Why? MOZART Why what, sir? COLLOREDO Why do I have to be humiliated in front of my guests by one of my own servants? MOZART Humiliated? COLLOREDO How much provocation am I to endure from you? The more license I allow you, the more you take. The company watches this scene, deeply interested. MOZART If His Grace is not satisfied with me, he can dismiss me. COLLOREDO I wish you to return immediately to Salzburg. Your father is waiting for you there patiently. I will speak to you further when I come. MOZART No, Your Grace! I mean with all humility, no. I would rather you dismissed me. It's obvious I don't satisfy. COLLOREDO Then try harder, Mozart. I have no intention of dismissing you. You will remain in my service and learn your place. Go now. He extends his hand to be kissed. Mozart does it with a furious grace, then leaves the room. As he opens the door we see: INT. PALACE CORRIDOR - DAY - 1780'S A group of people who have attended the concert, among them Constanze, are standing outside the private apartment. At sight of the composer they break into sustained applause. Mozart is suddenly delighted. He throws the door wide open so that the guests can see into the private apartment where the Archbishop sits

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How many times the word 'closer' appears in the text?

Amadeus Script at IMSDb. var _gaq = _gaq || []; _gaq.push(['_setAccount', 'UA-3785444-3']); _gaq.push(['_trackPageview']); (function() { var ga = document.createElement('script'); ga.type = 'text/javascript'; ga.async = true; ga.src = ('https:' == document.location.protocol ? 'https://ssl' : 'http://www') + '.google-analytics.com/ga.js'; var s = document.getElementsByTagName('script')[0]; s.parentNode.insertBefore(ga, s); })(); The Internet Movie Script Database (IMSDb) The web's largest movie script resource! Search IMSDb Alphabetical # A B C D E F G H I J K L M N O P Q R S T U V W X Y Z Genre Action Adventure Animation Comedy Crime Drama Family Fantasy Film-Noir Horror Musical Mystery Romance Sci-Fi Short Thriller War Western Sponsor TV Transcripts Futurama Seinfeld South Park Stargate SG-1 Lost The 4400 International French scripts Movie Software Rip from DVD Rip Blu-Ray Latest Comments Star Wars: Revenge of the Sith10/10 Star Wars: The Force Awakens10/10 Batman Begins9/10 Collateral10/10 Jackie Brown8/10 Movie Chat Message Yell ! ALL SCRIPTS if (window!= top) top.location.href=location.href // --> AMADEUS "AMADEUS" by Peter Shaffer Final Draft INT. STAIRCASE OUTSIDE OLD SALIERI'S SALON - NIGHT - 1823 Total darkness. We hear an old man's voice, distinct and in distress. It is OLD SALIERI. He uses a mixture of English and occasionally Italian. OLD SALIERI Mozart! Mozart! Mozart. Forgive me! Forgive your assassin! Mozart! A faint light illuminates the screen. Flickeringly, we see an eighteenth century balustrade and a flight of stone stairs. We are looking down into the wall of the staircase from the point of view of the landing. Up the stair is coming a branched candlestick held by Salieri's VALET. By his side is Salieri's COOK, bearing a large dish of sugared cakes and biscuits. Both men are desperately worried: the Valet is thin and middle-aged; the Cook, plump and Italian. It is very cold. They wear shawls over their night-dresses and clogs on their feet. They wheeze as they climb. The candles throw their shadows up onto the peeling walls of the house, which is evidently an old one and in bad decay. A cat scuttles swiftly between their bare legs, as they reach the salon door. The Valet tries the handle. It is locked. Behind it the voice goes on, rising in volume. OLD SALIERI Show some mercy! I beg you. I beg you! Show mercy to a guilty man! The Valet knocks gently on the door. The voice stops. VALET Open the door, Signore! Please! Be good now! We've brought you something special. Something you're going to love. Silence. VALET Signore Salieri! Open the door. Come now. Be good! The voice of Old Salieri continues again, further off now, and louder. We hear a noise as if a window is being opened. OLD SALIERI Mozart! Mozart! I confess it! Listen! I confess! The two servants look at each other in alarm. Then the Valet hands the candlestick to the Cook and takes a sugared cake from the dish, scrambling as quickly as he can back down the stairs. EXT. THE STREET OUTSIDE SALIERI'S HOUSE - VIENNA - NIGHT The street is filled with people: ten cabs with drivers, five children, fifteen adults, two doormen, fifteen dancing couples and a sled and three dogs. It is a windy night. Snow is falling and whirling about. People are passing on foot, holding their cloaks tightly around them. Some of them are revelers in fancy dress: they wear masks on their faces or hanging around their necks, as if returning from parties. Now they are glancing up at the facade of the old house. The window above the street is open and Old Salieri stands there calling to the sky: a sharp-featured, white-haired Italian over seventy years old, wearing a stained dressing gown. OLD SALIERI Mozart! Mozart! I cannot bear it any longer! I confess! I confess what I did! I'm guilty! I killed you! Sir I confess! I killed you! The door of the house bursts open. The Valet hobbles out, holding the sugared cake. The wind catches at his shawl. OLD SALIERI Mozart, perdonami! Forgive your assassin! Piet ! Piet ! Forgive your assassin! Forgive me! Forgive! Forgive! VALET (looking up to the window) That's all right, Signore! He heard you! He forgave you! He wants you to go inside now and shut the window! Old Salieri stares down at him. Some of the passersby have now stopped and are watching this spectacle. VALET Come on, Signore! Look what I have for you! I can't give it to you from down here, can I? Old Salieri looks at him in contempt. Then he turns away back into the room, shutting the window with a bang. Through the glass, the old man stares down at the group of onlookers in the street. They stare back at him in confusion. BYSTANDER Who is that? VALET No one, sir. He'll be all right. Poor man. He's a little unhappy, you know. He makes a sign indicating 'crazy,' and goes back inside the house. The onlookers keep staring. CUT TO: INT. LANDING OUTSIDE OLD SALIERI'S SALON - NIGHT The Cook is standing holding the candlestick in one hand, the dish of cakes in the other. The Valet arrives, panting. VALET Did he open? The Cook, scared, shakes his head: no. The Valet again knocks on the door. VALET Here I am, Signore. Now open the door. He eats the sugared cake in his hand, elaborately and noisily. VALET Mmmm - this is good! This is the most delicious thing I ever ate, believe me! Signore, you don't know what you're missing! Mmmm! We hear a thump from inside the bedroom. VALET Now that's enough, Signore! Open! We hear a terrible, throaty groaning. VALET If you don't open this door, we're going to eat everything. There'll be nothing left for you. And I'm not going to bring you anything more. He looks down. From under the door we see a trickle of blood flowing. In horror, the two men stare at it. The dish of cakes falls from the Cook's hand and shatters. He sets the candlestick down on the floor. Both servants run at the door frantically - once, twice, three times - and the frail lock gives. The door flies open. Immediately, the stormy, frenzied opening of Mozart's Symphony No. 25 (the Little G Minor) begins. We see what the servants see. INT. OLD SALIERI'S SALON - NIGHT Old Salieri lies on the floor in a pool of blood, an open razor in his hand. He has cut his throat but is still alive. He gestures at them. They run to him. Barely, we glimpse the room - an old chair, old tables piled with books, a forte- piano, a chamber-pot on the floor - as the Valet and the Cook struggle to lift their old Master, and bind his bleeding throat with a napkin. INT. BALLROOM - NIGHT Twenty-five dancing couples, fifty guests, ten servants, full orchestra. As the music slows a little, we see a Masquerade Ball in progress. A crowded room of dancers is executing the slow portion of a dance fashionable in the early 1820's. EXT. STREET OUTSIDE SALIERI'S HOUSE - NIGHT As the fast music returns, we see Old Salieri being carried out of his house on a stretcher by two attendants, and placed in a horse-drawn wagon under the supervision of a middle- aged doctor in a tall hat. This is DOCTOR GULDEN. He gets in beside his patient. The driver whips up the horse, and the wagon dashes off through the still-falling snow. MONTAGE: EXT. FOUR STREETS OF VIENNA AND INT. THE WAGON - NIGHT The wagon is galloping through the snowy streets of the city. Inside the conveyance we see Old Salieri wrapped in blankets, half-conscious, being held by the hospital attendants. Doctor Gulden stares at him grimly. The wagon arrives outside the General Hospital of Vienna. CUT TO: INT. A HOSPITAL CORRIDOR - LATE AFTERNOON A wide, white-washed corridor. Doctor Gulden is walking down it with a priest, a man of about forty, concerned, but somewhat self-important. This is Father VOGLER, Chaplain at the hospital. In the corridor as they walk, we note several patients -- some of them visibly disturbed mentally. All patients wear white linen smocks. Doctor Gulden wears a dark frock-coat; Vogler, a cassock. DOCTOR GULDEN He's going to live. It's much harder to cut your throat than most people imagine. They stop outside a door. DOCTOR GULDEN Here we are. Do you wish me to come in with you? VOGLER No, Doctor. Thank you. Vogler nods and opens the door. INT. OLD SALIERI'S HOSPITAL ROOM - LATE AFTERNOON A bare room - one of the best available in the General Hospital. It contains a bed, a table with candles, chairs, a small forte-piano of the early nineteenth century. As Vogler enters, Old Salieri is sitting in a wheel-chair, looking out the window. His back is to us. The priest closes the door quietly behind him. VOGLER Herr Salieri? Old Salieri turns around to look at him. We see that his throat is bandaged expertly. He wears hospital garb, and over it the Civilian Medal and Chain with which we will later see the EMPEROR invest him. OLD SALIERI What do you want? VOGLER I am Father Vogler. I am a Chaplain here. I thought you might like to talk to someone. OLD SALIERI About what? VOGLER You tried to take your life. You do remember that, don't you? OLD SALIERI So? VOGLER In the sight of God that is a sin. OLD SALIERI What do you want? VOGLER Do you understand that you have sinned? Gravely. OLD SALIERI Leave me alone. VOGLER I cannot leave alone a soul in pain. OLD SALIERI Do you know who I am? You never heard of me, did you? VOGLER That makes no difference. All men are equal in God's eyes. OLD SALIERI Are they? VOGLER Offer me your confession. I can offer you God's forgiveness. OLD SALIERI I do not seek forgiveness. VOGLER My son, there is something dreadful on your soul. Unburden it to me. I'm here only for you. Please talk to me. OLD SALIERI How well are you trained in music? VOGLER I know a little. I studied it in my youth. OLD SALIERI Where? VOGLER Here in Vienna. OLD SALIERI Then you must know this. He propels his wheelchair to the forte-piano, and plays an unrecognizable melody. VOGLER I can't say I do. What is it? OLD SALIERI I'm surprised you don't know. It was a very popular tune in its day. I wrote it. How about this? He plays another tune. OLD SALIERI This one brought down the house when we played it first. He plays it with growing enthusiasm. CUT TO: INT. THE STAGE OF AN OPERA HOUSE - NIGHT - 1780'S We see the pretty soprano KATHERINA CAVALIERI, now about twenty-four, dressed in an elaborate mythological Persian costume, singing on stage. She's near the end of a very florid aria by Salieri. The audience applauds wildly. INT. OLD SALIERI'S HOSPITAL ROOM - LATE AFTERNOON - 1823 OLD SALIERI (taking his hands off the keys) Well? VOGLER I regret it is not too familiar. OLD SALIERI Can you recall no melody of mine? I was the most famous composer in Europe when you were still a boy. I wrote forty operas alone. What about this little thing? Slyly he plays the opening measure of Mozart's Eine Kleine Nachtmusik. The priest nods, smiling suddenly, and hums a little with the music. VOGLER Oh, I know that! That's charming! I didn't know you wrote that. OLD SALIERI I didn't. That was Mozart. Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart. You know who that is? VOGLER Of course. The man you accuse yourself of killing. OLD SALIERI Ah - you've heard that? VOGLER All Vienna has heard that. OLD SALIERI ( eagerly) And do they believe it? VOGLER Is it true? OLD SALIERI Do you believe it? VOGLER Should I? A very long pause. Salieri stares above the priest, seemingly lost in his own private world. VOGLER For God's sake, my son, if you have anything to confess, do it now! Give yourself some peace! A further pause. VOGLER Do you hear me? OLD SALIERI He was murdered, Father! Mozart! Cruelly murdered. Pause. VOGLER (almost whispering) Yes? Did you do it? Suddenly Old Salieri turns to him, a look of extreme innocence. OLD SALIERI He was my idol! I can't remember a time when I didn't know his name! When I was only fourteen he was already famous. Even in Legnago - the tiniest town in Italy - I knew of him. CUT TO: EXT. A SMALL TOWN SQUARE IN LOMBARDY, ITALY - DAY - 1780'S There are twelve children and twenty adults in the square. We see the fourteen-year-old Salieri blindfolded, playing a game of Blindman's Bluff with other Italian children, running about in the bright sunshine and laughing. OLD SALIERI (V.O.) I was still playing childish games when he was playing music for kings and emperors. Even the Pope in Rome! CUT TO: INT. A SALON IN THE VATICAN - DAY - 1780'S We see the six-year-old MOZART, also blindfolded, seated in a gilded chair on a pile of books, playing the harpsichord for the POPE and a suite of CARDINALS and other churchmen. Beside the little boy stands LEOPOLD, his father, smirking with pride. OLD SALIERI (V.O.) I admit I was jealous when I heard the tales they told about him. Not of the brilliant little prodigy himself, but of his father, who had taught him everything. The piece finishes. Leopold lowers the lid of the harpsichord and lifts up his little son to stand on it. Mozart removes the blindfold to show a pale little face with staring eyes. Both father and son bow. A Papal Chamberlain presents Leopold with a gold snuff box whilst the cardinals decorously applaud. Over this scene Old Salieri speaks. OLD SALIERI (V.O.) My father did not care for music. He wanted me only to be a merchant, like himself. As anonymous as he was. When I told how I wished I could be like Mozart, he would say, Why? Do you want to be a trained monkey? Would you like me to drag you around Europe doing tricks like a circus freak? How could I tell him what music meant to me? CUT TO: EXT. A COUNTRY CHURCH IN NORTH ITALY - DAY - 1780'S Serene music of the Italian Baroque - Pergolesi's Stabat Mater - sung by a choir of boys with organ accompaniment. We see the outside of the 17th-century church sitting in the wide landscape of Lombardy: sunlit fields, a dusty, white road, poplar trees. INT. THE CHURCH AT LEGNAGO - DAY - 1780'S The music continues and swells. We see the twelve-year-old Salieri seated between his plump and placid parents in the congregation, listening in rapture. His father is a heavy- looking, self-approving man, obviously indifferent to the music. A large and austere Christ on the cross hangs over the altar. Candles burn below his image. OLD SALIERI (V.O.) Even then a spray of sounded notes could make me dizzy, almost to falling. The boy falls forward on his knees. So do his parents and the other members of the congregation. He stares up at Christ who stares back at him. OLD SALIERI (V.O.) Whilst my father prayed earnestly to God to protect commerce, I would offer up secretly the proudest prayer a boy could think of. Lord, make me a great composer! Let me celebrate your glory through music - and be celebrated myself! Make me famous through the world, dear God! Make me immortal! After I die let people speak my name forever with love for what I wrote! In return I vow I will give you my chastity - my industry, my deepest humility, every hour of my life. And I will help my fellow man all I can. Amen and amen! The music swells to a crescendo. The candles flare. We see the Christ through the flames looking at the boy benignly. OLD SALIERI (V.O.) And do you know what happened? A miracle! INT. DINING ROOM IN THE SALIERI HOUSE - DAY - 1780'S CU, a large cooked fish on a thick china plate. Camera pulls back to show the Salieri family at dinner. Father Salieri sits at the head of the table, a napkin tucked into his chin. Mother Salieri is serving the fish into portions and handing them round. Two maiden aunts are in attendance, wearing black, and of course the young boy. Father Salieri receives his plate of fish and starts to eat greedily. Suddenly there is a gasp - he starts to choke violently on a fish bone. All the women get up and crowd around him, thumping and pummeling him, but it is in vain. Father Salieri collapses. INT. OLD SALIERI'S HOSPITAL ROOM - LATE AFTERNOON - 1823 OLD SALIERI Suddenly he was dead. Just like that! And my life changed forever. My mother said, Go. Study music if you really want to. Off with you! And off I went as quick as I could and never saw Italy again. Of course, I knew God had arranged it all; that was obvious. One moment I was a frustrated boy in an obscure little town. The next I was here, in Vienna, city of musicians, sixteen years old and studying under Gluck! Gluck, Father. Do you know who he was? The greatest composer of his time. And he loved me! That was the wonder. He taught me everything he knew. And when I was ready, introduced me personally to the Emperor! Emperor Joseph - the musical king! Within a few years I was his court composer. Wasn't that incredible? Imperial Composer to His Majesty! Actually the man had no ear at all, but what did it matter? He adored my music, that was enough. Night after night I sat right next to the Emperor of Austria, playing duets with him, correcting the royal sight-reading. Tell me, if you had been me, wouldn't you have thought God had accepted your vow? And believe me, I honoured it. I was a model of virtue. I kept my hands off women, worked hours every day teaching students, many of them for free, sitting on endless committees to help poor musicians - work and work and work, that was all my life. And it was wonderful! Everybody liked me. I liked myself. I was the most successful musician in Vienna. And the happiest. Till he came. Mozart. CUT TO: INT. THE ARCHBISHOP OF SALZBURG'S RESIDENCE - VIENNA - DAY - 1780'S A grand room crowded with guests. A small group of Gypsy musicians is playing in the background. Thirteen members of the Archbishop's orchestra - all wind players, complete with 18th-century wind instruments: elaborate-looking bassoons, basset horns, etc. and wearing their employer's livery - are laying out music on stands at one end of the room. At the other end is a large gilded chair, bearing the arms of the ARCHBISHOP OF SALZBURG. A throng of people is standing, talking, and preparing to sit upon the rows of waiting chairs to hear a concert. OLD SALIERI (V.O.) One day he came to Vienna to play some of his music at the residence of his employer, the Prince-Archbishop of Salzburg. Eagerly I went there to seek him out. That night changed my life. We see Salieri, age thirty-one, a neat, carefully turned-cut man in decent black clothes and clean white linen, walking through the crowd of guests. We follow him. OLD SALIERI (V.O.) As I went through the salon, I played a game with myself. This man had written his first concerto at the age of four; his first symphony at seven; a full-scale opera at twelve. Did it show? Is talent like that written on the face? We see shots of assorted young men staring back at Salieri as he moves through the crowd. OLD SALIERI (V.O.) Which one of them could he be? Some of the men recognize Salieri and bow respectfully. Then suddenly a servant bearing a large tray of cakes and pastries stalks past. Instantly riveted by the sight of such delights, Salieri follows him out of the Grand Salon. INT. A PALACE CORRIDOR - DAY - 1780'S The servant marches along bearing his tray of pastries aloft. Salieri follows him. The servant turns into: INT. BUFFET ROOM IN THE PALACE - DAY - 1780'S Salieri's POV: several tables, dressed to the floor with cloths are loaded with many plates of confectionery. It is, in fact, Salieri's idea of paradise! The servant puts his tray down on one of the tables and withdraws from the room. INT. A PALACE CORRIDOR - DAY - 1780'S Salieri turns away so as not to be noticed by the servant. As soon as the man disappears, Salieri sneaks into the buffet room. INT. BUFFET ROOM IN THE PALACE - DAY - 1780'S Salieri enters the room and looks about him cautiously. He is salivating with anticipation as he stares at the feast of sweet things. His attention is attracted in particular by a huge pile of dark chocolate balls arranged in the shape of a pineapple. He reaches out a hand to steal one of the balls, but at the same moment he hears giggling coming toward him. He ducks down behind the pastry table. A girl - CONSTANZE - rushes into the room. She runs straight across it and hides herself behind one of the tables. After a beat of total silence, MOZART runs into the room, stops, and looks around. He is age twenty-six, wearing a fine wig and a brilliant coat with the insignia of the Archbishop of Salzburg upon it. He is puzzled; Constanze has disappeared. Baffled, he turns and is about to leave the room, when Constanze suddenly squeaks from under the cloth like a tiny mouse. Instantly Mozart drops to all fours and starts crawling across the floor, meowing and hissing like a naughty cat. Watched by an astonished Salieri, Mozart disappears under the cloth and obviously pounces upon Constanze. We hear a high-pitched giggle, which is going to characterize Mozart throughout the film. CUT TO: INT. PALACE GRAND SALON - DAY - 1780'S The throng is mostly seated. The musicians are in their places, holding their various exotic-looking wind instruments; the candles are all lit. A Majordomo appears and bangs his staff on the floor for attention. Immediately COLLOREDO, Prince-Archbishop of Salzburg enters. He is a small self- important figure of fifty in a wig, surmounted by a scarlet skullcap. He is followed by his Chamberlain, the Count ARCO. Everyone stands. The Archbishop goes to his throne and sits. His guests sit also. Arco gives the signal to start the music. Nothing happens. Instead, a wind musician gets up, approaches the Chamberlain and whispers in his ear. Arco in turn whispers to the Archbishop. ARCO Mozart is not here. COLLOREDO Where is he? ARCO They're looking for him, Your Grace. INT. A PALACE CORRIDOR - DAY - 1780'S Three servants are opening doors and looking into rooms going off the corridor. CUT TO: INT. PALACE GRAND SALON - DAY - 1780'S The guests are turning around and looking at the Archbishop. The musicians are watching. There is puzzlement and a murmur of comment. The Archbishop tightens his lip. COLLOREDO (to Arco) We'll start without him. INT. PALACE BUFFET ROOM - DAY - 1780'S Mozart is on his knees before the tablecloth, which reaches to the floor. Under it is Constanze. We hear her giggling as he talks. MOZART Miaouw! Miaouw! Mouse-wouse? It's Puss-wuss, fangs-wangs. Paws-claws. Pounce-bounce! He grabs her ankle. She screams. He pulls her out by her leg. CONSTANZE Stop it. Stop it! They roll on the floor. He tickles her. CONSTANZE Stop it! MOZART I am! I am! I'm stopping it - slowly. You see! Look, I've stopped. Now we are going back. He tries to drag her back under the table. CONSTANZE No! No! No! MOZART Yes! Back! Back! Listen - don't you know where you are? CONSTANZE Where? MOZART We are in the Residence of the Fartsbishop of Salzburg. CONSTANZE Fartsbishop! She laughs delightedly, then addresses an imaginary Archbishop. CONSTANZE Your Grace, I've got something to tell you. I want to complain about this man. MOZART Go ahead, tell him. Tell them all. They won't understand you anyway. CONSTANZE Why not? MOZART Because here everything goes backwards. People walk backwards, dance backwards, sing backwards, and talk backwards. CONSTANZE That's stupid. MOZART Why? People fart backwards. CONSTANZE Do you think that's funny? MOZART Yes, I think it's brilliant. You've been doing it for years. He gives a high pitched giggle. CONSTANZE Oh, ha, ha, ha. MOZART Sra-I'm-sick! Sra-I'm sick! CONSTANZE Yes, you are. You're very sick. MOZART No, no. Say it backwards, shit-wit. Sra-I'm-sick Say it backwards! CONSTANZE (working it out) Sra-I'm-sick. Sick - kiss I'm - my Kiss my! Sra-I'm-sick - Kiss my arse! MOZART Em iram! Em iram! CONSTANZE No, I'm not playing this game. MOZART No, this is serious. Say it backwards. CONSTANZE No! MOZART Just say it - you'll see. It's very serious. Em iram! Em iram! CONSTANZE Iram - marry Em - marry me! No, no! You're a fiend. I'm not going to marry a fiend. A dirty fiend at that. MOZART Ui-vol-i-tub! CONSTANZE Tub - but i-tub - but I vol - love but I love ui - You. I love you! The mood becomes suddenly softer. She kisses him. They embrace. Then he spoils it. MOZART Tish-I'm tee. What's that? CONSTANZE What? MOZART Tish-I'm-tee. CONSTANZE Eat MOZART Yes. CONSTANZE Eat my - ah! Shocked, she strikes at him. At the same moment the music starts in the salon next door. We hear the opening of the Serenade for Thirteen Wind Instruments, K. MOZART My music! They've started! They've started without me! He leaps up, disheveled and rumpled and runs out of the room. Salieri watches in amazement and disgust. CUT TO: INT. PALACE CORRIDOR - DAY - 1780'S The music is louder. Mozart hastens towards the Grand Salon away from the buffet room, adjusting his dress as he goes. INT. GRAND SALON - DAY - 1780'S The opening of the Serenade is being tentatively conducted by the leader of the wind-musicians. Guests turn around as Mozart appears - bowing to the Archbishop - and walks with an attempt at dignity to the dais where the wind band is playing. The leader yields his place to the composer and Mozart smoothly takes over conducting. Constanze, deeply embarrassed, sneaks into the room and seats herself at the back. INT. PALACE BUFFET ROOM - DAY - 1780'S The music fades down. Salieri stands shocked from his inadvertent eavesdropping. After a second he moves almost in a trance toward the door; the music dissolves. INT. GRAND SALON - DAY - 1780'S Mozart is conducting the Adagio from his Serenade (K. 361), guiding the thirteen wind instrumentalists. The squeezebox opening of the movement begins. Salieri appears at the door at the back of the salon. He stares in disbelief at Mozart. OLD SALIERI (V.O.) So that was he! That giggling, dirty- minded creature I'd just seen crawling on the floor. Mozart. The phenomenon whose legend had haunted my youth. Impossible. The music swells up and Salieri listens to it with eyes closed - amazed, transported - suddenly engulfed by the sound. Finally it fades down and away and changes into applause. Salieri opens his eyes. The audience is clearly delighted. Mozart bows to them, also delighted. Colloredo rises abruptly, and without looking at Mozart or applauding and leaves the Salon. Count Arco approaches the composer. Mozart turns to him, radiant. ARCO Follow me, please. The Archbishop would like a word. MOZART Certainly! He follows Arco out of the room, through a throng of admirers. INT. ANOTHER PALACE CORRIDOR - DAY - 1780'S Mozart and Arco walk side by side. They pass Salieri who is staring at Mozart in fascination. As they disappear, he steals toward the music stands, unable to help himself. MOZART Well, I think that went off remarkably well, don't you? ARCO Indeed. MOZART These Viennese certainly know good music when they hear it. ARCO His Grace is very angry with you. MOZART What do you mean? They arrive at the door of Colloredo's private apartment. ARCO You are to come in here and ask his pardon. Arco opens the door. INT. ARCHBISHOP'S PRIVATE ROOM - DAY - 1780'S The Archbishop is sitting, chatting to quests. Among them are several ladies. Arco approaches him obsequiously. ARCO Your Grace. COLLOREDO Ah, Mozart. Why? MOZART Why what, sir? COLLOREDO Why do I have to be humiliated in front of my guests by one of my own servants? MOZART Humiliated? COLLOREDO How much provocation am I to endure from you? The more license I allow you, the more you take. The company watches this scene, deeply interested. MOZART If His Grace is not satisfied with me, he can dismiss me. COLLOREDO I wish you to return immediately to Salzburg. Your father is waiting for you there patiently. I will speak to you further when I come. MOZART No, Your Grace! I mean with all humility, no. I would rather you dismissed me. It's obvious I don't satisfy. COLLOREDO Then try harder, Mozart. I have no intention of dismissing you. You will remain in my service and learn your place. Go now. He extends his hand to be kissed. Mozart does it with a furious grace, then leaves the room. As he opens the door we see: INT. PALACE CORRIDOR - DAY - 1780'S A group of people who have attended the concert, among them Constanze, are standing outside the private apartment. At sight of the composer they break into sustained applause. Mozart is suddenly delighted. He throws the door wide open so that the guests can see into the private apartment where the Archbishop sits

nevertheless

How many times the word 'nevertheless' appears in the text?

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Search IMSDb Alphabetical # A B C D E F G H I J K L M N O P Q R S T U V W X Y Z Genre Action Adventure Animation Comedy Crime Drama Family Fantasy Film-Noir Horror Musical Mystery Romance Sci-Fi Short Thriller War Western Sponsor TV Transcripts Futurama Seinfeld South Park Stargate SG-1 Lost The 4400 International French scripts Movie Software Rip from DVD Rip Blu-Ray Latest Comments Star Wars: Revenge of the Sith10/10 Star Wars: The Force Awakens10/10 Batman Begins9/10 Collateral10/10 Jackie Brown8/10 Movie Chat Message Yell ! ALL SCRIPTS if (window!= top) top.location.href=location.href // --> AMADEUS "AMADEUS" by Peter Shaffer Final Draft INT. STAIRCASE OUTSIDE OLD SALIERI'S SALON - NIGHT - 1823 Total darkness. We hear an old man's voice, distinct and in distress. It is OLD SALIERI. He uses a mixture of English and occasionally Italian. OLD SALIERI Mozart! Mozart! Mozart. Forgive me! Forgive your assassin! Mozart! A faint light illuminates the screen. Flickeringly, we see an eighteenth century balustrade and a flight of stone stairs. We are looking down into the wall of the staircase from the point of view of the landing. Up the stair is coming a branched candlestick held by Salieri's VALET. By his side is Salieri's COOK, bearing a large dish of sugared cakes and biscuits. Both men are desperately worried: the Valet is thin and middle-aged; the Cook, plump and Italian. It is very cold. They wear shawls over their night-dresses and clogs on their feet. They wheeze as they climb. The candles throw their shadows up onto the peeling walls of the house, which is evidently an old one and in bad decay. A cat scuttles swiftly between their bare legs, as they reach the salon door. The Valet tries the handle. It is locked. Behind it the voice goes on, rising in volume. OLD SALIERI Show some mercy! I beg you. I beg you! Show mercy to a guilty man! The Valet knocks gently on the door. The voice stops. VALET Open the door, Signore! Please! Be good now! We've brought you something special. Something you're going to love. Silence. VALET Signore Salieri! Open the door. Come now. Be good! The voice of Old Salieri continues again, further off now, and louder. We hear a noise as if a window is being opened. OLD SALIERI Mozart! Mozart! I confess it! Listen! I confess! The two servants look at each other in alarm. Then the Valet hands the candlestick to the Cook and takes a sugared cake from the dish, scrambling as quickly as he can back down the stairs. EXT. THE STREET OUTSIDE SALIERI'S HOUSE - VIENNA - NIGHT The street is filled with people: ten cabs with drivers, five children, fifteen adults, two doormen, fifteen dancing couples and a sled and three dogs. It is a windy night. Snow is falling and whirling about. People are passing on foot, holding their cloaks tightly around them. Some of them are revelers in fancy dress: they wear masks on their faces or hanging around their necks, as if returning from parties. Now they are glancing up at the facade of the old house. The window above the street is open and Old Salieri stands there calling to the sky: a sharp-featured, white-haired Italian over seventy years old, wearing a stained dressing gown. OLD SALIERI Mozart! Mozart! I cannot bear it any longer! I confess! I confess what I did! I'm guilty! I killed you! Sir I confess! I killed you! The door of the house bursts open. The Valet hobbles out, holding the sugared cake. The wind catches at his shawl. OLD SALIERI Mozart, perdonami! Forgive your assassin! Piet ! Piet ! Forgive your assassin! Forgive me! Forgive! Forgive! VALET (looking up to the window) That's all right, Signore! He heard you! He forgave you! He wants you to go inside now and shut the window! Old Salieri stares down at him. Some of the passersby have now stopped and are watching this spectacle. VALET Come on, Signore! Look what I have for you! I can't give it to you from down here, can I? Old Salieri looks at him in contempt. Then he turns away back into the room, shutting the window with a bang. Through the glass, the old man stares down at the group of onlookers in the street. They stare back at him in confusion. BYSTANDER Who is that? VALET No one, sir. He'll be all right. Poor man. He's a little unhappy, you know. He makes a sign indicating 'crazy,' and goes back inside the house. The onlookers keep staring. CUT TO: INT. LANDING OUTSIDE OLD SALIERI'S SALON - NIGHT The Cook is standing holding the candlestick in one hand, the dish of cakes in the other. The Valet arrives, panting. VALET Did he open? The Cook, scared, shakes his head: no. The Valet again knocks on the door. VALET Here I am, Signore. Now open the door. He eats the sugared cake in his hand, elaborately and noisily. VALET Mmmm - this is good! This is the most delicious thing I ever ate, believe me! Signore, you don't know what you're missing! Mmmm! We hear a thump from inside the bedroom. VALET Now that's enough, Signore! Open! We hear a terrible, throaty groaning. VALET If you don't open this door, we're going to eat everything. There'll be nothing left for you. And I'm not going to bring you anything more. He looks down. From under the door we see a trickle of blood flowing. In horror, the two men stare at it. The dish of cakes falls from the Cook's hand and shatters. He sets the candlestick down on the floor. Both servants run at the door frantically - once, twice, three times - and the frail lock gives. The door flies open. Immediately, the stormy, frenzied opening of Mozart's Symphony No. 25 (the Little G Minor) begins. We see what the servants see. INT. OLD SALIERI'S SALON - NIGHT Old Salieri lies on the floor in a pool of blood, an open razor in his hand. He has cut his throat but is still alive. He gestures at them. They run to him. Barely, we glimpse the room - an old chair, old tables piled with books, a forte- piano, a chamber-pot on the floor - as the Valet and the Cook struggle to lift their old Master, and bind his bleeding throat with a napkin. INT. BALLROOM - NIGHT Twenty-five dancing couples, fifty guests, ten servants, full orchestra. As the music slows a little, we see a Masquerade Ball in progress. A crowded room of dancers is executing the slow portion of a dance fashionable in the early 1820's. EXT. STREET OUTSIDE SALIERI'S HOUSE - NIGHT As the fast music returns, we see Old Salieri being carried out of his house on a stretcher by two attendants, and placed in a horse-drawn wagon under the supervision of a middle- aged doctor in a tall hat. This is DOCTOR GULDEN. He gets in beside his patient. The driver whips up the horse, and the wagon dashes off through the still-falling snow. MONTAGE: EXT. FOUR STREETS OF VIENNA AND INT. THE WAGON - NIGHT The wagon is galloping through the snowy streets of the city. Inside the conveyance we see Old Salieri wrapped in blankets, half-conscious, being held by the hospital attendants. Doctor Gulden stares at him grimly. The wagon arrives outside the General Hospital of Vienna. CUT TO: INT. A HOSPITAL CORRIDOR - LATE AFTERNOON A wide, white-washed corridor. Doctor Gulden is walking down it with a priest, a man of about forty, concerned, but somewhat self-important. This is Father VOGLER, Chaplain at the hospital. In the corridor as they walk, we note several patients -- some of them visibly disturbed mentally. All patients wear white linen smocks. Doctor Gulden wears a dark frock-coat; Vogler, a cassock. DOCTOR GULDEN He's going to live. It's much harder to cut your throat than most people imagine. They stop outside a door. DOCTOR GULDEN Here we are. Do you wish me to come in with you? VOGLER No, Doctor. Thank you. Vogler nods and opens the door. INT. OLD SALIERI'S HOSPITAL ROOM - LATE AFTERNOON A bare room - one of the best available in the General Hospital. It contains a bed, a table with candles, chairs, a small forte-piano of the early nineteenth century. As Vogler enters, Old Salieri is sitting in a wheel-chair, looking out the window. His back is to us. The priest closes the door quietly behind him. VOGLER Herr Salieri? Old Salieri turns around to look at him. We see that his throat is bandaged expertly. He wears hospital garb, and over it the Civilian Medal and Chain with which we will later see the EMPEROR invest him. OLD SALIERI What do you want? VOGLER I am Father Vogler. I am a Chaplain here. I thought you might like to talk to someone. OLD SALIERI About what? VOGLER You tried to take your life. You do remember that, don't you? OLD SALIERI So? VOGLER In the sight of God that is a sin. OLD SALIERI What do you want? VOGLER Do you understand that you have sinned? Gravely. OLD SALIERI Leave me alone. VOGLER I cannot leave alone a soul in pain. OLD SALIERI Do you know who I am? You never heard of me, did you? VOGLER That makes no difference. All men are equal in God's eyes. OLD SALIERI Are they? VOGLER Offer me your confession. I can offer you God's forgiveness. OLD SALIERI I do not seek forgiveness. VOGLER My son, there is something dreadful on your soul. Unburden it to me. I'm here only for you. Please talk to me. OLD SALIERI How well are you trained in music? VOGLER I know a little. I studied it in my youth. OLD SALIERI Where? VOGLER Here in Vienna. OLD SALIERI Then you must know this. He propels his wheelchair to the forte-piano, and plays an unrecognizable melody. VOGLER I can't say I do. What is it? OLD SALIERI I'm surprised you don't know. It was a very popular tune in its day. I wrote it. How about this? He plays another tune. OLD SALIERI This one brought down the house when we played it first. He plays it with growing enthusiasm. CUT TO: INT. THE STAGE OF AN OPERA HOUSE - NIGHT - 1780'S We see the pretty soprano KATHERINA CAVALIERI, now about twenty-four, dressed in an elaborate mythological Persian costume, singing on stage. She's near the end of a very florid aria by Salieri. The audience applauds wildly. INT. OLD SALIERI'S HOSPITAL ROOM - LATE AFTERNOON - 1823 OLD SALIERI (taking his hands off the keys) Well? VOGLER I regret it is not too familiar. OLD SALIERI Can you recall no melody of mine? I was the most famous composer in Europe when you were still a boy. I wrote forty operas alone. What about this little thing? Slyly he plays the opening measure of Mozart's Eine Kleine Nachtmusik. The priest nods, smiling suddenly, and hums a little with the music. VOGLER Oh, I know that! That's charming! I didn't know you wrote that. OLD SALIERI I didn't. That was Mozart. Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart. You know who that is? VOGLER Of course. The man you accuse yourself of killing. OLD SALIERI Ah - you've heard that? VOGLER All Vienna has heard that. OLD SALIERI ( eagerly) And do they believe it? VOGLER Is it true? OLD SALIERI Do you believe it? VOGLER Should I? A very long pause. Salieri stares above the priest, seemingly lost in his own private world. VOGLER For God's sake, my son, if you have anything to confess, do it now! Give yourself some peace! A further pause. VOGLER Do you hear me? OLD SALIERI He was murdered, Father! Mozart! Cruelly murdered. Pause. VOGLER (almost whispering) Yes? Did you do it? Suddenly Old Salieri turns to him, a look of extreme innocence. OLD SALIERI He was my idol! I can't remember a time when I didn't know his name! When I was only fourteen he was already famous. Even in Legnago - the tiniest town in Italy - I knew of him. CUT TO: EXT. A SMALL TOWN SQUARE IN LOMBARDY, ITALY - DAY - 1780'S There are twelve children and twenty adults in the square. We see the fourteen-year-old Salieri blindfolded, playing a game of Blindman's Bluff with other Italian children, running about in the bright sunshine and laughing. OLD SALIERI (V.O.) I was still playing childish games when he was playing music for kings and emperors. Even the Pope in Rome! CUT TO: INT. A SALON IN THE VATICAN - DAY - 1780'S We see the six-year-old MOZART, also blindfolded, seated in a gilded chair on a pile of books, playing the harpsichord for the POPE and a suite of CARDINALS and other churchmen. Beside the little boy stands LEOPOLD, his father, smirking with pride. OLD SALIERI (V.O.) I admit I was jealous when I heard the tales they told about him. Not of the brilliant little prodigy himself, but of his father, who had taught him everything. The piece finishes. Leopold lowers the lid of the harpsichord and lifts up his little son to stand on it. Mozart removes the blindfold to show a pale little face with staring eyes. Both father and son bow. A Papal Chamberlain presents Leopold with a gold snuff box whilst the cardinals decorously applaud. Over this scene Old Salieri speaks. OLD SALIERI (V.O.) My father did not care for music. He wanted me only to be a merchant, like himself. As anonymous as he was. When I told how I wished I could be like Mozart, he would say, Why? Do you want to be a trained monkey? Would you like me to drag you around Europe doing tricks like a circus freak? How could I tell him what music meant to me? CUT TO: EXT. A COUNTRY CHURCH IN NORTH ITALY - DAY - 1780'S Serene music of the Italian Baroque - Pergolesi's Stabat Mater - sung by a choir of boys with organ accompaniment. We see the outside of the 17th-century church sitting in the wide landscape of Lombardy: sunlit fields, a dusty, white road, poplar trees. INT. THE CHURCH AT LEGNAGO - DAY - 1780'S The music continues and swells. We see the twelve-year-old Salieri seated between his plump and placid parents in the congregation, listening in rapture. His father is a heavy- looking, self-approving man, obviously indifferent to the music. A large and austere Christ on the cross hangs over the altar. Candles burn below his image. OLD SALIERI (V.O.) Even then a spray of sounded notes could make me dizzy, almost to falling. The boy falls forward on his knees. So do his parents and the other members of the congregation. He stares up at Christ who stares back at him. OLD SALIERI (V.O.) Whilst my father prayed earnestly to God to protect commerce, I would offer up secretly the proudest prayer a boy could think of. Lord, make me a great composer! Let me celebrate your glory through music - and be celebrated myself! Make me famous through the world, dear God! Make me immortal! After I die let people speak my name forever with love for what I wrote! In return I vow I will give you my chastity - my industry, my deepest humility, every hour of my life. And I will help my fellow man all I can. Amen and amen! The music swells to a crescendo. The candles flare. We see the Christ through the flames looking at the boy benignly. OLD SALIERI (V.O.) And do you know what happened? A miracle! INT. DINING ROOM IN THE SALIERI HOUSE - DAY - 1780'S CU, a large cooked fish on a thick china plate. Camera pulls back to show the Salieri family at dinner. Father Salieri sits at the head of the table, a napkin tucked into his chin. Mother Salieri is serving the fish into portions and handing them round. Two maiden aunts are in attendance, wearing black, and of course the young boy. Father Salieri receives his plate of fish and starts to eat greedily. Suddenly there is a gasp - he starts to choke violently on a fish bone. All the women get up and crowd around him, thumping and pummeling him, but it is in vain. Father Salieri collapses. INT. OLD SALIERI'S HOSPITAL ROOM - LATE AFTERNOON - 1823 OLD SALIERI Suddenly he was dead. Just like that! And my life changed forever. My mother said, Go. Study music if you really want to. Off with you! And off I went as quick as I could and never saw Italy again. Of course, I knew God had arranged it all; that was obvious. One moment I was a frustrated boy in an obscure little town. The next I was here, in Vienna, city of musicians, sixteen years old and studying under Gluck! Gluck, Father. Do you know who he was? The greatest composer of his time. And he loved me! That was the wonder. He taught me everything he knew. And when I was ready, introduced me personally to the Emperor! Emperor Joseph - the musical king! Within a few years I was his court composer. Wasn't that incredible? Imperial Composer to His Majesty! Actually the man had no ear at all, but what did it matter? He adored my music, that was enough. Night after night I sat right next to the Emperor of Austria, playing duets with him, correcting the royal sight-reading. Tell me, if you had been me, wouldn't you have thought God had accepted your vow? And believe me, I honoured it. I was a model of virtue. I kept my hands off women, worked hours every day teaching students, many of them for free, sitting on endless committees to help poor musicians - work and work and work, that was all my life. And it was wonderful! Everybody liked me. I liked myself. I was the most successful musician in Vienna. And the happiest. Till he came. Mozart. CUT TO: INT. THE ARCHBISHOP OF SALZBURG'S RESIDENCE - VIENNA - DAY - 1780'S A grand room crowded with guests. A small group of Gypsy musicians is playing in the background. Thirteen members of the Archbishop's orchestra - all wind players, complete with 18th-century wind instruments: elaborate-looking bassoons, basset horns, etc. and wearing their employer's livery - are laying out music on stands at one end of the room. At the other end is a large gilded chair, bearing the arms of the ARCHBISHOP OF SALZBURG. A throng of people is standing, talking, and preparing to sit upon the rows of waiting chairs to hear a concert. OLD SALIERI (V.O.) One day he came to Vienna to play some of his music at the residence of his employer, the Prince-Archbishop of Salzburg. Eagerly I went there to seek him out. That night changed my life. We see Salieri, age thirty-one, a neat, carefully turned-cut man in decent black clothes and clean white linen, walking through the crowd of guests. We follow him. OLD SALIERI (V.O.) As I went through the salon, I played a game with myself. This man had written his first concerto at the age of four; his first symphony at seven; a full-scale opera at twelve. Did it show? Is talent like that written on the face? We see shots of assorted young men staring back at Salieri as he moves through the crowd. OLD SALIERI (V.O.) Which one of them could he be? Some of the men recognize Salieri and bow respectfully. Then suddenly a servant bearing a large tray of cakes and pastries stalks past. Instantly riveted by the sight of such delights, Salieri follows him out of the Grand Salon. INT. A PALACE CORRIDOR - DAY - 1780'S The servant marches along bearing his tray of pastries aloft. Salieri follows him. The servant turns into: INT. BUFFET ROOM IN THE PALACE - DAY - 1780'S Salieri's POV: several tables, dressed to the floor with cloths are loaded with many plates of confectionery. It is, in fact, Salieri's idea of paradise! The servant puts his tray down on one of the tables and withdraws from the room. INT. A PALACE CORRIDOR - DAY - 1780'S Salieri turns away so as not to be noticed by the servant. As soon as the man disappears, Salieri sneaks into the buffet room. INT. BUFFET ROOM IN THE PALACE - DAY - 1780'S Salieri enters the room and looks about him cautiously. He is salivating with anticipation as he stares at the feast of sweet things. His attention is attracted in particular by a huge pile of dark chocolate balls arranged in the shape of a pineapple. He reaches out a hand to steal one of the balls, but at the same moment he hears giggling coming toward him. He ducks down behind the pastry table. A girl - CONSTANZE - rushes into the room. She runs straight across it and hides herself behind one of the tables. After a beat of total silence, MOZART runs into the room, stops, and looks around. He is age twenty-six, wearing a fine wig and a brilliant coat with the insignia of the Archbishop of Salzburg upon it. He is puzzled; Constanze has disappeared. Baffled, he turns and is about to leave the room, when Constanze suddenly squeaks from under the cloth like a tiny mouse. Instantly Mozart drops to all fours and starts crawling across the floor, meowing and hissing like a naughty cat. Watched by an astonished Salieri, Mozart disappears under the cloth and obviously pounces upon Constanze. We hear a high-pitched giggle, which is going to characterize Mozart throughout the film. CUT TO: INT. PALACE GRAND SALON - DAY - 1780'S The throng is mostly seated. The musicians are in their places, holding their various exotic-looking wind instruments; the candles are all lit. A Majordomo appears and bangs his staff on the floor for attention. Immediately COLLOREDO, Prince-Archbishop of Salzburg enters. He is a small self- important figure of fifty in a wig, surmounted by a scarlet skullcap. He is followed by his Chamberlain, the Count ARCO. Everyone stands. The Archbishop goes to his throne and sits. His guests sit also. Arco gives the signal to start the music. Nothing happens. Instead, a wind musician gets up, approaches the Chamberlain and whispers in his ear. Arco in turn whispers to the Archbishop. ARCO Mozart is not here. COLLOREDO Where is he? ARCO They're looking for him, Your Grace. INT. A PALACE CORRIDOR - DAY - 1780'S Three servants are opening doors and looking into rooms going off the corridor. CUT TO: INT. PALACE GRAND SALON - DAY - 1780'S The guests are turning around and looking at the Archbishop. The musicians are watching. There is puzzlement and a murmur of comment. The Archbishop tightens his lip. COLLOREDO (to Arco) We'll start without him. INT. PALACE BUFFET ROOM - DAY - 1780'S Mozart is on his knees before the tablecloth, which reaches to the floor. Under it is Constanze. We hear her giggling as he talks. MOZART Miaouw! Miaouw! Mouse-wouse? It's Puss-wuss, fangs-wangs. Paws-claws. Pounce-bounce! He grabs her ankle. She screams. He pulls her out by her leg. CONSTANZE Stop it. Stop it! They roll on the floor. He tickles her. CONSTANZE Stop it! MOZART I am! I am! I'm stopping it - slowly. You see! Look, I've stopped. Now we are going back. He tries to drag her back under the table. CONSTANZE No! No! No! MOZART Yes! Back! Back! Listen - don't you know where you are? CONSTANZE Where? MOZART We are in the Residence of the Fartsbishop of Salzburg. CONSTANZE Fartsbishop! She laughs delightedly, then addresses an imaginary Archbishop. CONSTANZE Your Grace, I've got something to tell you. I want to complain about this man. MOZART Go ahead, tell him. Tell them all. They won't understand you anyway. CONSTANZE Why not? MOZART Because here everything goes backwards. People walk backwards, dance backwards, sing backwards, and talk backwards. CONSTANZE That's stupid. MOZART Why? People fart backwards. CONSTANZE Do you think that's funny? MOZART Yes, I think it's brilliant. You've been doing it for years. He gives a high pitched giggle. CONSTANZE Oh, ha, ha, ha. MOZART Sra-I'm-sick! Sra-I'm sick! CONSTANZE Yes, you are. You're very sick. MOZART No, no. Say it backwards, shit-wit. Sra-I'm-sick Say it backwards! CONSTANZE (working it out) Sra-I'm-sick. Sick - kiss I'm - my Kiss my! Sra-I'm-sick - Kiss my arse! MOZART Em iram! Em iram! CONSTANZE No, I'm not playing this game. MOZART No, this is serious. Say it backwards. CONSTANZE No! MOZART Just say it - you'll see. It's very serious. Em iram! Em iram! CONSTANZE Iram - marry Em - marry me! No, no! You're a fiend. I'm not going to marry a fiend. A dirty fiend at that. MOZART Ui-vol-i-tub! CONSTANZE Tub - but i-tub - but I vol - love but I love ui - You. I love you! The mood becomes suddenly softer. She kisses him. They embrace. Then he spoils it. MOZART Tish-I'm tee. What's that? CONSTANZE What? MOZART Tish-I'm-tee. CONSTANZE Eat MOZART Yes. CONSTANZE Eat my - ah! Shocked, she strikes at him. At the same moment the music starts in the salon next door. We hear the opening of the Serenade for Thirteen Wind Instruments, K. MOZART My music! They've started! They've started without me! He leaps up, disheveled and rumpled and runs out of the room. Salieri watches in amazement and disgust. CUT TO: INT. PALACE CORRIDOR - DAY - 1780'S The music is louder. Mozart hastens towards the Grand Salon away from the buffet room, adjusting his dress as he goes. INT. GRAND SALON - DAY - 1780'S The opening of the Serenade is being tentatively conducted by the leader of the wind-musicians. Guests turn around as Mozart appears - bowing to the Archbishop - and walks with an attempt at dignity to the dais where the wind band is playing. The leader yields his place to the composer and Mozart smoothly takes over conducting. Constanze, deeply embarrassed, sneaks into the room and seats herself at the back. INT. PALACE BUFFET ROOM - DAY - 1780'S The music fades down. Salieri stands shocked from his inadvertent eavesdropping. After a second he moves almost in a trance toward the door; the music dissolves. INT. GRAND SALON - DAY - 1780'S Mozart is conducting the Adagio from his Serenade (K. 361), guiding the thirteen wind instrumentalists. The squeezebox opening of the movement begins. Salieri appears at the door at the back of the salon. He stares in disbelief at Mozart. OLD SALIERI (V.O.) So that was he! That giggling, dirty- minded creature I'd just seen crawling on the floor. Mozart. The phenomenon whose legend had haunted my youth. Impossible. The music swells up and Salieri listens to it with eyes closed - amazed, transported - suddenly engulfed by the sound. Finally it fades down and away and changes into applause. Salieri opens his eyes. The audience is clearly delighted. Mozart bows to them, also delighted. Colloredo rises abruptly, and without looking at Mozart or applauding and leaves the Salon. Count Arco approaches the composer. Mozart turns to him, radiant. ARCO Follow me, please. The Archbishop would like a word. MOZART Certainly! He follows Arco out of the room, through a throng of admirers. INT. ANOTHER PALACE CORRIDOR - DAY - 1780'S Mozart and Arco walk side by side. They pass Salieri who is staring at Mozart in fascination. As they disappear, he steals toward the music stands, unable to help himself. MOZART Well, I think that went off remarkably well, don't you? ARCO Indeed. MOZART These Viennese certainly know good music when they hear it. ARCO His Grace is very angry with you. MOZART What do you mean? They arrive at the door of Colloredo's private apartment. ARCO You are to come in here and ask his pardon. Arco opens the door. INT. ARCHBISHOP'S PRIVATE ROOM - DAY - 1780'S The Archbishop is sitting, chatting to quests. Among them are several ladies. Arco approaches him obsequiously. ARCO Your Grace. COLLOREDO Ah, Mozart. Why? MOZART Why what, sir? COLLOREDO Why do I have to be humiliated in front of my guests by one of my own servants? MOZART Humiliated? COLLOREDO How much provocation am I to endure from you? The more license I allow you, the more you take. The company watches this scene, deeply interested. MOZART If His Grace is not satisfied with me, he can dismiss me. COLLOREDO I wish you to return immediately to Salzburg. Your father is waiting for you there patiently. I will speak to you further when I come. MOZART No, Your Grace! I mean with all humility, no. I would rather you dismissed me. It's obvious I don't satisfy. COLLOREDO Then try harder, Mozart. I have no intention of dismissing you. You will remain in my service and learn your place. Go now. He extends his hand to be kissed. Mozart does it with a furious grace, then leaves the room. As he opens the door we see: INT. PALACE CORRIDOR - DAY - 1780'S A group of people who have attended the concert, among them Constanze, are standing outside the private apartment. At sight of the composer they break into sustained applause. Mozart is suddenly delighted. He throws the door wide open so that the guests can see into the private apartment where the Archbishop sits

soul

How many times the word 'soul' appears in the text?