Good Will Hunting

FADE IN:

EXT. SOUTH BOSTON ST. PATRICK'S DAY PARADE -- DAY

CUT TO:

INT. L STREET BAR & GRILLE, SOUTH BOSTON -- EVENING

The bar is dirty, more than a little run down. If there is

ever a cook on duty, he's not here now. As we pan across

several empty tables, we can almost smell the odor of last

nights beer and crushed pretzels on the floor.

CHUCKIE:

Oh my God, I got the most f***ed up

thing I been meanin' to tell you.

As the camera rises, we find FOUR YOUNG MEN seated around a

table near the back of the bar.

ALL:

Oh Jesus. Here we go.

The guy holding court is CHUCKIE SULLIVAN, 20, and the largest

of the bunch. He is loud, boisterous, a born entertainer.

Next to him is WILL HUNTING, 20, handsome and confident, a

softspoken leader. On Will's right sits BILLY MCBRIDE, 22,

heavy, quiet, someone you definitely wouldn't want to tangle

with.

Finally there is MORGAN O'MALLY, 19, smaller than the other

guys. Wiry and anxious, Morgan listens to Chuckie's horror

stories with eager disgust.

All four boys speak with thick Boston accents. This is a

rough, working class Irish neighborhood and these boys are

its product.

CHUCKIE:

You guys know my cousin Mikey

Sullivan?

ALL:

Yeah.

CHUCKIE:

Well you know how he loves animals

right? Anyway, last week he's drivin'

home...

(laughs)

ALL:

What? Come on!

CHUCKIE:

(trying not to laugh)

I'm sorry, 'cause you know Mikey,

the f***in guy loves animals, and

this is the last person you'd want

this to happen to.

WILL:

Chuckie, what the f*** happened?

CHUCKIE:

Okay. He's driving along and this

f***in' cat jumps in front of his

car, and so he hits this cat--

Chuckie is really laughing now.

MORGAN:

--That isn't funny--

CHUCKIE:

--and he's like "sh*t! Motherf***er!"

And he looks in his rearview and

sees this cat -- I'm sorry--

BILLY:

F***in' Chuckie!

CHUCKIE:

So he sees this cat tryin to make it

across the street and it's not lookin'

so good.

WILL:

It's walkin' pretty slow at this

point.

MORGAN:

You guys are f***in' sick.

CHUCKIE:

So Mikey's like "F***, I gotta put

this thing out of its misery"--So he

gets a hammer--

WILL/MORGAN/BILLY

OH!

CHUCKIE:

out of his tool box, and starts

chasin' the cat and starts whackin'

it with the hammer. You know, tryin'

to put the thing out of its misery.

MORGAN:

Jesus.

CHUCKIE:

And all the time he's apologizin' to

the cat, goin' "I'm sorry." BANG,

"I'm sorry." BANG!

BILLY:

Like it can understand.

CHUCKIE:

And this Samoan guy comes runnin'

out of his house and he's like "What

the f*** are you doing to my cat?!"

Mikey's like "I'm sorry" --BANG--" I

hit your cat with my truck, and I'm

just trying to put it out of it's

misery" -- BANG! And the cat dies.

So Mikey's like "Why don't you come

look at the front of the truck."

'Cause the other guy's all f***in

flipped out about--

WILL:

Watching his cat get brained.

Morgan gives Will a look, but Will only smiles.

CHUCKIE:

Yeah, so he's like "Check the front

of my truck, I can prove I hit it

'cause there's probably some blood

or something"--

WILL:

--or a tail--

MORGAN:

WILL!

CHUCKIE:

And so they go around to the front

of his truck... and there's another

cat on the grille.

WILL/MORGAN/BILLY

No! Ugh!

CHUCKIE:

Is that unbelievable? He brained an

innocent cat!

BLACKOUT:

The opening credits roll over a series of shots of the city

and the real people who live and work there, going about

their daily lives.

We see a panoramic view of South Boston.

Will sits in his apartment, walls completely bare. A bed, a

small night table and an empty basket adorn the room. A stack

of twenty or so LIBRARY BOOKS sit by his bed. He is flipping

through a book at about a page a second.

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