12 Years a Slave Page #21

CELESTE:

My freedom been nothin' but adaydream. So was Celeste's

thoughts of slaves conjoinin' inthe bayou.

SOLOMON:

Better the loneliness. You have

been free most of the summer.

Return now and your master willmake example of you.

CELESTE:

It is lonely dwellin' waiting forothers who won't never come.

(CONTINUED)

1/24/13 FINAL SHOOTING SCRIPT 92.

138 CONTINUED:
(2) 138 138 CONTINUED: (2) 138

SOLOMON:

Go north. Make your way bynight...

CELESTE:

It'll only be worse if'n Celestedon't go back of her own will.

SOLOMON:

You won't be caught. The dogswon't track you. You are...youare unique. Celeste...

CELESTE:

You got alternatives, Solomon.

SOLOMON:

To return is to die!

CELESTE:

Celeste got no one to write aletter to.

As if to punctuate her resolve, without a word moreCeleste departs toward the swamp. Solomon starts on into

the swamp after her.

SOLOMON:

Celeste... Celeste!

Solomon continues after Celeste, wading deeper into thedark night and murky waters.

SOLOMON (CONT’D)

Celeste, I will guide you north!

Wait, and I will take you.

Celeste is too nimble. She outpaces Solomon, continueson and disappears into the night.

SOLOMON (CONT’D)

Let me take you! Let me go withyou!

Solomon runs on, then splashes to a stop. He stumbles

around disoriented, calling into the blackness:

SOLOMON (CONT’D)

Celeste...

Nothing. No answer. Not a human one. There are sounds

and echoes - some in the distance, some perhaps movingcloser - which, moment by moment, become more and morefrightening. Soon, Solomon realizes he is in quiteliterally over his head; the water first chest deep, thenneck deep. With no way to orient himself, no means toguide him in the dark, Solomon's reserve begins tocrumble. He thrashes in the water trying to find his way

(CONTINUED)

1/24/13 FINAL SHOOTING SCRIPT 93.

138 CONTINUED:
(3) 138 138 CONTINUED: (3) 138

back to shore. No longer trying to save Celeste, Solomoncalls to her - desperately - for assistance.

SOLOMON (CONT’D)

Celeste! Come to me, Celeste!

In that moment Solomon is quite certain he is nearlydone; that he will not find land, nor aid and that thisis his final moment. His panic should be that tangible.

It is either force of will, or survival instinct...ormaybe just pure luck that carries Solomon on until hereaches first muddy ground, then firm footing. Haulinghimself onto the swamps edge, Solomon finally collapsesin a drenched, worn heap. His life spared, but Celestenever to be seen again.

BLACK:

139 EXT. EPPS'S PLANTATION - DAY 139

-MAY/JUNE, 1847

We come up now outside of Master Epps's plantation. Eppsstands in the drive. He's in surprisingly good spiritsas Solomon, Uncle Abram, Henry and Bob trudge their waywearily toward Epps and his other slaves who aregathered.

The cotton field is in full bloom, the crop fullyreturned.

EPPS:

A joyous day. A joyous day. Dark

times is behind us. Clean livin'

'n prayer done lifted the plague.

Indicating to the cotton:

EPPS (CONT'D)

As thick 'n white as New England

snow. 'N now my n*ggers is

returned to me.

(to Solomon)

Heard Judge Turner gave you favor.

Oh, did you beguile him, Platt,

with your slick n*gger ways?

Well, yah won't stand idle, boy.

Not on my land. Much work to do.

Days of old long since, eh?

Joyous! Joyous indeed!

Throughout Epps's welcome, Solomon's focus is on Patseywho is lined up with the other slaves. SHE IS NOW MORE

HAGGARD THAN WHEN WE LAST SAW HER. Her face and arms

display many new scars. It's clear that in the

intervening years she has quite literally been a whippingboy for Epps and the Mistress.

1/24/13 FINAL SHOOTING SCRIPT 94.

140 EXT. EPPS'S PLANTATION/COTTON FIELD - DAY 140

-JULY, 1847

The slaves are out working on the field. White hands

appear, picking cotton: ARMSBY. He is wholly unskilled atpicking cotton, and he puts little effort into the job.

As we meet him he seems a decent sort if a little short

on self-motivation. In anachronistic terminology, he'dbe called a "slacker." He joins in with the slaves,

singing a spiritual.

141 INT. MASTER EPPS'S PLANTATION/GIN HOUSE - EVENING 141

As Epps said, it is days of long since. The slaves are

back to having their cotton weighed in the Gin House

EPPS:

Wiley...?

TREACH:

Two hundred sixty pounds.

EPPS:

Bob?

TREACH:

Three hundred forty pounds for

Bob.

EPPS:

Patsey?

TREACH:

Five hundred twenty pounds.

EPPS:

Tha's a girl. Don't never let me

down. Platt?

TREACH:

One hundred sixty pounds.

Before Treach is even done announcing the weight, Eppshas pulled Solomon aside to where Uncle Abram alreadyawaits his fate.

EPPS:

Armsby?

TREACH:

Sixty four pounds.

Epps speaks to Armsby sternly, but nothing of the mannerin which he would address the slaves.

(CONTINUED)

1/24/13 FINAL SHOOTING SCRIPT 95.

141 CONTINUED:
141 141 CONTINUED: 141

EPPS:

A good days labor would average

two hundred pounds.

ARMSBY:

Yes, sir.

EPPS:

I'm sure in time y'll develope as

a picker, but it takes effort,

boy. Put some damn effort into

it.

ARMSBY:

Yes, sir.

To Treach, regarding Solomon and Abram:

EPPS:

Take 'em out. Get to whippin'.

No force is needed. The slaves understand the situation.

They follow Treach out of the Gin house.

142 EXT. EPPS'S PLANTATION/SLAVE SHACK - NIGHT 142

We come in after the punishment has been dealt. Patseytends to Uncle Abram's back as Armsby applies linimentsto Solomon's. As he does, Armsby muses:

ARMSBY:

It's a tragedy. How does such

come to pass? Working a field and

picking cotton like a lowly hand.

I'm of a damn sight better

station. And my desires never

lacked for a grandiose component,

though I will admit they have at

times been short on ingenuity.

But only at times. I've worked as

an overseer, you know.

SOLOMON:

I did not, sir.

ARMSBY:

Not "sir." Just Armsby. Not owed

more than any other in the field.

I worked plantations from

Virginia, down into Alabama. I

could manage easy a hundred slaves

and have done so. But to toil in

the field? Never thought that

would come to pass. Never. But

times are desperate. Where once I

had said "no" to Epps and his

merger offerings, I returned cap

(MORE)

(CONTINUED)

1/24/13 FINAL SHOOTING SCRIPT

142 CONTINUED:

ARMSBY (CONT'D)

in hand. ...Look at what I've

become.

SOLOMON:

How did you arrive at such a

place, if I may ask?

ARMSBY:

Ask. It's just conversation.

From a pocket Armsby produces a flask.

ARMSBY (CONT'D)

I became a little too dependant on

the whisky, a little too

undependable on the job. Before

you say I'm just a sorry drunkard,

let me state my case: As reliable

Rate this script:4.2 / 13 votes