Lost Horizon Page #5

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Conway moodily pours himself a third. He downs the drink

as we

DISSOLVE TO:

INT. PLANE

CLOSE SHOT OF CONWAY

We find Conway, asleep in his seat, his head on his hands.

George approaches and tenderly spreads a jacket over his

shoulders. Conway stirs, opens an eye.

CONWAY:

(drunkenly)

Hello, Freshie. Did you make that

report out yet?

GEORGE:

Yes, Bob.

CONWAY:

Did you say we saved ninety white

people?

GEORGE:

Yes.

CONWAY:

Hurray for us. Did you say that we

left ten thousand natives down

there to be annihilated? No, you

wouldn't say that. They don't count.

GEORGE:

You'd better try to get some sleep,

Bob.

CONWAY:

Just you wait until I'm Foreign

Secretary. Can't you just see me,

Freshie, with all those other

shrewd, little Foreign Secretaries?

(confidentially -

screws up face)

You see, the trick is to see who

can out-talk the other. Everybody

wants something for nothing, and

if you can't get it with smooth

talk, you send an army in. I'm

going to fool them, Freshie. I'm

not going to have an army. I'm

going to disband mine. I'm going

to sink my battleships - I'm going

to destroy every piece of warcraft.

Then when the enemy approaches

we'll say, "Come in, gentlemen -

what can we do for you?" So then

the poor enemy soldiers will stop

and think. And what will they think,

Freshie? They'll think to themselves -

"Something's wrong here. We've

been duped. This is not according

to form. These people seem to be

quite friendly, and why should we

shoot them?" Then they'll lay down

their arms. You see how simple the

whole thing is? Centuries of

tradition kicked right in the pants—

(pause - drily)

—and I'll be slapped straight into

the nearest insane asylum.

He starts to pour himself another drink.

GEORGE:

You'd better not drink any more,

Bob. You're not talking sense.

Conway downs the drink, and then chuckles cynically.

CONWAY:

Don't worry, George. Nothing's

going to happen. I'll fall right

into line. I'll be the good little

boy that everybody wants me to be.

I'll be the best little Foreign

Secretary we ever had, just because

I haven't the nerve to be anything

else.

GEORGE:

Do try to sleep, Bob.

CONWAY:

Huh? Oh, sure, Freshie. Good thing,

sleep.

He grunts and squirms. George tucks him in.

CONWAY:

Did you ever notice the sunrise in

China, George? Ah, you should.

It's beautiful.

He gets settled. George relaxes and, leaning back, shuts

his eyes.

LONG SHOT OF CABIN

It is quiet. All are asleep. CAMERA MOVES FORWARD SLOWLY

until it reaches the glass panel leading to the cockpit.

The pilot's face turns. Instead of Fenner we see a strange,

Mongolian face - with sharp, piercing eyes. A half-smile

plays across his mouth.

EXT. SHOT OF PLANE

LONG SHOT OF PLANE

Flying at high speed against a moonlit sky. We stay on the

shot until it vanishes, a mere speck, over the horizon.

DISSOLVE TO:

EXT. SHOT - DAWN

42. LONG SHOT

The morning sun peeks over a mountain top. From the same

direction, as if arriving with the sun, the ship looms up,

and comes roaring toward us.

INT. PLANE

43. FULL SHOT

All are asleep except Lovett, who fidgets on his seat.

Then Barnard stirs - opens his eyes - and stretches. As he

does so, he sees that Lovett is awake.

BARNARD:

Good morning, Lovey.

LOVETT:

I beg your pardon.

BARNARD:

I say, good morning, Lovey.

LOVETT:

Good morning—

(CATCHES HIMSELF)

Look here, young man.

BARNARD:

Eh?

LOVETT:

I didn't care for 'sister' last

night, and I don't like 'Lovey'

this morning. My name is Lovett -

Alexander, P.

BARNARD:

I see.

LOVETT:

I see.

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