Hellboy

OMIT:

INT. DARKROOM - INTERVIEW 1

In a photographic DARKROOM: old optical enlargers, porcelain

trays, timers, and stills hanging out to dry.

GEORGE MATLIN, a slightly obese, nearsighted man in his

seventies.

OLD MATLIN:

Is he real? Oh yeah -- Absolutely.

Super:
CPL. GEORGE MATLIN, combat photographer.

OLD MATLIN:

I haven't talked about it for years,

you know?

(looks at the camera)

Everyone called me crazy...

Matlin smiles as he paws through a box of old negatives.

OLD MATLIN:

But I have the negative.

Someone turns on the darkroom's red safety light for an eerie,

dramatic effect.

TECHNICIAN'S VOICE

Get ready, 3-2-1... Roll tape.

OLD MATLIN:

It all started back in �44. I was a

Corps photographer aboard an allied

submarine...

CUT TO:

INT. SUBMARINE HALLWAY - NIGHT

YOUNG MATLIN's hands again paw through a bunch of negatives,

again under a red light. Now, at 21, he's wedged in a

submarine corridor, a crowded maze of pipes and gauges.

35mm still cameras dangle from his neck. He shrinks back as

a squad of MARINES hustles past him, loading weapons.

OLD MATLIN'S VOICE

...off the coast of Scotland.

Classified mission. I was 21...

SGT. WHITMAN, 44, tough as nails, pushes through, his uniform

soaked in sweat.

OLD MATLIN'S VOICE

We had an English civilian on board.

Not much older than me but already

an advisor to President Roosevelt.

"Paranormal" advisor, I kid you not --

Whitman continues down the passageway until he reaches a

small...

INT. SUBMARINE STATEROOM - NIGHT

Within, an incongruously proper young Englishman "reading"

an ancient set of Tarot cards.

OLD MATLIN'S VOICE

His name was Trevor. Profesor Trevor --

WHITMAN:

-- Broom! Topside, now.

TREVOR "BROOM" BRUTTENHOLM is a gaunt, olive-skinned man in

his late twenties. In his hands, a tarot deck. He turns the

cards face up:
THE FOOL, THE MOON...

WHITMAN:

The sooner we're done, the better.

Broom grabs a worn-down wooden box full of books and amulets.

It has a leather strap that allows him to carry it, much

like a carpenter's tool box.

BROOM:

This is an important mission, Sgt.

Whitman. I hope you realize that.

WHITMAN:

Oh -- you don't wanna know what I

think. Topside, now.

He moves away. Broom takes a small box and a few amulets.

Before exiting, he pauses and tensely turns the last TAROT

CARD:
THE DEVIL.

CUT TO:

OMIT:

INT/EXT. SCOTLAND - TUNNEL - NIGHT

Super:
OCTOBER 9, 1944, SCOTLAND.

It's raining like hell now. Soldiers move through a short

tunnel carved into the mountain.

Whitman signals his men to spread out, then comes alongside

Broom.

BROOM:

Sgt. Whitman!! Sgt. Whitman!! May I

have a word??

WHITMAN:

(impatient)

What is it?

BROOM:

In private, if you don't mind...

EXT. SCOTLAND CHAPEL REMAINS

They enter the remains of a small chapel. Broom produces the

small box. It's full of rosaries.

BROOM:

Your men -- They'll need these --

Whitman scowls and huffs. A life-sized wooden Christ

contemplates the scene from above.

WHITMAN:

You are a Catholic??

BROOM:

Amongst other things, yes -- but

that's hardly the point.

Whitman locks and loads an automatic.

WHITMAN:

Here. You'll need one of these.

BROOM:

I abhor violence.

(Whitman moves away)

Sergeant Whitman, I hope you don't

think me mad --

WHITMAN:

Three days too late for that one,

"professor."

He moves away. Broom looks up to the wooden Christ: It has

no eyes.

EXT. DITCH

MATLIN hauls his tripod and gear and joins the troops on the

move. Broom catches up with Whitman.

WHITMAN:

You're wasting our time: There's

nothing on this island but sheep and

rocks.

BROOM:

Ruins. Not rocks. The remains of

Trondham Abbey. Built on an

intersection of Ley Lines, the

boundaries between our world and the

other --

WHITMAN:

(interrupts him)

What a load of crap. Hell, a week

ago I hadn't even heard the word

parabnormal --

BROOM:

"Paranormal"

(Whitman moves on)

But -- you read the transmission.

WHITMAN:

Half transmission. Nonsense -- German

ghost stories!

BROOM:

I have seen ghosts, Whitman.

WHITMAN:

Oh, I'll bet you have.

Reaching a slope, Matlin sets down his camera. Turning, he

sees lights.

MATLIN:

Sweet Jesus.

Drenched, Broom and Whitman look down upon an impressive

ROMANESQUE RUIN. Under worklights, dozens of NAZI SOLDIERS

swarm among thick stone walls and archways.

BROOM:

They must be here for the sheep.

OMIT:

EXT. AMONG THE RUINS - NIGHT

A dozen German soldiers swiftly assemble a large steel

MACHINE. The work is monitored by a spindly Nazi in BLACK

LEATHER, his face covered by an odd gas mask: KROENEN.

WHITMAN:

The freak in the gas mask --

BROOM:

Karl Ruprecht Kroenen, one of the

Reich's top Scientists. Head of the

Thule Occult Society.

EXT. NEARBY - BROOM - NIGHT

He lowers a pair of binoculars and passes them to Whitman.

BROOM:

If he's here, this is worse than I

thought.

WHITMAN:

(to the radio man)

Air and sea backup. What's closest?

The RADIOMAN cranks a transmitter to life.

RADIO MAN:

Londonderry, sir. Forty minutes away.

BROOM:

We don't have forty minutes.

EXT. ABBEY RUINS - ALTAR AREA - NIGHT

Kroenen throws a switch: On the machine, dozens of gears

respond!

Steam pistons thrust copper rails upright, lifting two mighty

metal rings, not unlike a gyroscope. Kroenen grunts and

signals for more floodlights to be turned on.

EXT. BEHIND THE ALTAR - NIGHT

The lights flood an ancient sacristy lined with eroded stone

saints. GRIGORY, tall and gaunt, stands naked, arms fully

extended.

GRIGORY:

No matter what happens to me, you

must carry on with the work.

ILSA, a severe, ageless Aryan beauty, reverentially drapes

an embroidered robe over his bony shoulders.

ILSA:

I will not leave you.

GRIGORY:

Yes, you will... Leave me. Deny me.

ILSA:

Never --

He hands her a small LEATHER-BOUND BOOK. It contains hand-

drawn notes and illustrations.

GRIGORY:

This will guide you back to me.

He pulls her close, the clouds of their breath mingling.

GRIGORY:

I grant you everlasting life, youth

and the power to serve me.

He dips his fingers in a wooden bowl full of blood, then

wipes her tears away with a crimson thumb, both a consolation

and a ritual.

VON KRUPT, an acrid German General, wearing dark SCARLET

glasses and LEATHER GLOVES, appears. Looks at his pocket

watch. On the gold lid: a SWASTIKA.

VON KRUPT:

It's time.

OMIT:

EXT. ABBEY RUINS - ALTAR AREA - CEREMONY - NIGHT

Grigory walks towards the machine, its colossal steel and

copper clockworks gleaming in the floodlights.

VON KRUPT:

Five years of research and

construction, Grigory. Five years!!

He strides alongside Grigory and Ilsa, who holds an umbrella

to shield her master from the pouring rain.

VON KRUPT:

The furhrer doesn't look kindly on

failure.

GRIGORY:

There will be no failure, General. I

promised Herr Hitler a miracle. I'll

deliver one.

Kroenen mutters excitedly as he opens a polished oak box

containing a massive gold and copper MECHA-GLOVE.

Grigory extends his hand so that KROENEN may fit him with

the contraption, which is attached to cables and hoses.

EXT. THE HILLTOP - ALLIED SOLDIERS - NIGHT

Rate this script:4.5 / 2 votes