Malcolm X Page #16

Bembry's language is very unhip. He speaks carefully. He

respects words and he respects himself, something which sets

him apart from all the other prisoners.

PETE:

He bout to bust.

BEMBRY:

No, he's not gonna bust. But he's

not gonna fix his face to please

them, neither.

ANGLE. The check-in has reached the man next to Malcolm.

GUARD WILKINS:

Harrington.

THIRD PRISONER:

B 775717.

GUARD BARNES:

Yeah. Lucky Seven.

Door slammed and locked.

CLOSE SHOT - MALCOLM

The guards are now in front of him.

GUARD WILKINS:

Little.

Malcolm doesn't move.

GUARD BARNES:

State your number.

Malcolm doesn't answer, doesn't blink.

GUARD WILKINS:

Little.

ANGLE. Bembry in the FG of the scene.

BEMBRY:

He's a new fish, Mr. Barnes. Give

him a break.

It's a bold step by Bembry and the prisoners look over at

him with admiration. Barnes accepts the irregularity and

calls over to Bembry.

GUARD BARNES:

Okay, I'll give him a break. Now

state your number, Little.

CLOSE - MALCOLM

MALCOLM:

I forgot it.

CLOSE SHOT - BEMBRY

Shaking his head in anguish. He knows what's coming.

ANGLE. Barnes makes a small gesture and Wilkins seizes

Malcolm, grabbing his head and uniform at the same time.

Stenciled on the chest of his faded dungarees is Malcolm's

number. The guard bends Malcolm's head to the number, shoving

the material in Malcolm's face.

GUARD WILKINS:

Can you read, boy? Thass your number.

GUARD BARNES:

Now say it.

MALCOLM:

I'm Malcolm Little, not no goddam

number.

GUARD WILKINS:

Oh, yes you is, baby; thass all you

is.

And slams Malcolm hard. He slumps to the floor.

GUARD BARNES:

Two days in the hole. Take him.

Wilkins drags Malcolm off as Barnes resumes the roll call.

GUARD BARNES:

Burnham.

FOURTH PRISONER:

A 551613, sir.

JUMP CUT:

INT. A SOLITARY CELL - DAY

Only the faintest light comes into the hideous room, which

consists of a mattress and a slop bucket. If Malcolm were to

stretch out his arms, he could touch both walls. He lies

half on the stone floor, half on the mattress.

A clang as the heavy door is opened.

GUARD CONE:

Time's up. Get on your feet.

Malcolm stands.

GUARD CONE:

Little, state your number.

A beat as Malcolm stares at the man, refusing to answer.

GUARD CONE:

You just drew two more days.

And slams the door shut.

INT. SOLITARY - NIGHT

It is almost pitch black. We can almost smell the stench of

the room.

Malcolm sits stony-faced, his back against a wall.

TRUSTEE'S VOICE

Water.

The long spigot of a watering can is pushed through an opening

in the cell door. Malcolm, animal-like, leaps at it and bends

the spout, wrenching it off in his fury.

INT. SOLITARY CELL - DAY

TWO-SHOT - A WHITE CHAPLAIN AND MALCOLM

CHAPLAIN GILL:

Do you know what a friend you have

in Jesus, son?

MALCOLM:

Preacher, take your tin Jesus and

the Virgin Mary, both, and shove

'em.

Door slam.

INT. SOLITARY - NIGHT

Malcolm is alone at the bars: the hope of freedom filling

his mind.

Malcolm pulls at the bars, tries to shake them in impotent

fury. He pounds the walls. Empty, sick, defeated, his nails

scratching the walls, he slides to the floor of the cell.

It is the low point of his life: nowhere to turn, nothing to

hope for.

INT. SOLITARY - LATER

Guard Cone is shaking him into consciousness.

GUARD CONE:

All right, Little. Get up.

Malcolm just about makes it. The guard is in half-focus.

GUARD CONE:

State your number.

He is beaten.

MALCOLM:

A 859912.

A shower is heard.

INT. SHOWER ROOM - DAY

Malcolm stands with bowed head as the hot water cascades

over his broken body. He lets it run and run, but it cannot

really touch his problems. On a nearby bench are his clothes,

his towel and the makings for a conk: lye, Vaseline, comb,

etc.

He turns for a moment as he sees he is being watched by

someone. It's Bembry standing nearby. Malcolm turns away,

trying to find solace in the water. He wants no part of the

world or anyone, just to be left alone.

BEMBRY:

I know how you feel. Like you want

to lay down and die.

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