Pleasantville Page #24

There is some clapping from the back of the crowd. Bob's eyes

widen. His face goes flushed (darker gray). A vein bulges in

his neck. He turns to the police chief.

BOB:

Dan! Arrest them!

DAN (POLICE CHIEF)

(quietly)

Um ... I don't know how to do that,

Bob.

BOB:

What do you mean!?

DAN:

Well, I never had to do it before.

BOB:

You put handcuffs on them and you

take them to the police station.

DAN:

(thinks)

Oh. guess I could do that, then.

DAVID:

(suddenly stronger)

C'mere, Dan. I'll help you.

David walks toward the police chief and sticks his hands out.

A louder murmur moves through the crowd as David actually

helps him fasten on the cuffs. Mr. Johnson comes over to join

them and the murmur starts to grow ...

CUT TO:

NIGHT TIME.

A bright full moon stands out against a jet black sky ...

EXT. MAIN STREET. NIGHT.

A group of "colored" kids hangs out on Main Street near the

police station. They gaze off into the distance at the barred

window of a jail cell. It is elevated half a story above the

street. Everything is black and white except for the warm

YELLOW LIGHT, that glows through the bars. They know in a

glance who's inside.

INT. JAIL CELL. NIGHT.

David sits on his bunk staring at the ceiling. The place has

never been used so there is still plastic wrapping on all the

sheets and pillow cases. He can't help smiling.

INT. DIFFERENT JAIL CELL. WAY OFF DOWN THE HALL ...

Mr. Johnson crouches on his bunk, ignoring his food. He

clutches a rusty nail and scratches at the plaster wall in

true "inmate" fashion.

REVERSE ANGLE. WALL.

Rather than scratching the days or even the hours, Mr.

Johnson has carved a huge pastoral landscape into the wall

complete with lush forest and a running brook. He looks at

his work and smiles.

SHOT. POLICE CHIEF.

He approaches David's cell from the other direction and

knocks gently on the bars. David turns around.

DAN:

There's someone to see you Bud.

DAVID.

David sits upright on his bunk trying to think who it could

be. After a moment or two, a strange look of understanding

crosses his face. He HEARS the sound of a KEY TURNING IN THE

LOCK. David looks up at the doorway and smiles.

DAVID:

I thought it might be you.

REVERSE ANGLE. DICK VAN DYKE.

He stands in the doorway, still dressed in his TV repairman's

outfit. FOR THE FIRST TIME, HE IS COMPLETELY IN BLACK AND

WHITE.

DICK VAN DYKE:

Hope you're proud of yourself.

DAVID:

I am actually ... Glad to see you've

finally shown your true colors.

Dick Van Dyke gives a tight smile and shuts the door of the

cell behind him.

DICK VAN DYKE:

Okay, let's cut the sh*t and get

right to it. Where's that remote

control?

DAVID:

Why?

DICK VAN DYKE:

Because you're coming home.

DAVID:

(smiles)

Why don't you just take me back

without it?

DICK VAN DYKE:

Oh. You're a smart little bastard

aren't you?

(tightly)

It's kind of like a restricted

ticket. You gotta leave the same

way you came.

David just looks at him. He smiles, confidently. Leans back

on the bunk ...

DAVID:

So ... I guess as long as I'm

here, all sorts of things could

happen to this place. We could

have pink lawns and blue trees ...

DICK VAN DYKE:

Just gimme the damn remote!

DAVID:

I'm sorry. I can't do that.

Dick Van Dyke takes a deep breath. He glances toward the

barred window.

DICK VAN DYKE:

I don't know what went wrong.

You answered every question. You

knew every detail. The senior

Prom ... McIntire's Department

Store. We had all the same warm

memories:
Sock hops. The Church

Social ...

DAVID:

They weren't my memories.

(beat)

I borrowed them. It's no good when

you borrow them.

Dick Van Dyke's eyes go wide and he literally starts to

tremble.

DICK VAN DYKE:

(containing his rage)

How long do you think you've been

here?

DAVID:

(warily)

I don't know ... Three, four weeks.

DICK VAN DYKE:

Much less than that.

(checks his watch)

An hour and a half.

David looks at him uneasily. Dick Van Dyke flashes a broad

nasty smile.

DICK VAN DYKE (CONT)

See--and this is really great--

the show was on for what--half an

hour a week? So that means for

every week that goes by in

Pleasantville, only half an hour

goes by in the real world.

The smile gets bigger. Dick Van Dyke moves closer to him.

DICK VAN DYKE (CONT)

Now Buddy, you're going on trial

tomorrow. And if they find you

guilty, you're gonna be stuck here

forever. Well, not forever--lemme

think ...

(calculates)

Five year sentence ... Carry the

three ... That comes out to ...

sixteen and a half centuries, and

that's rounding down.

DAVID:

I'm going on trial tomorrow?

DICK VAN DYKE:

This is TV pal. They don't fool

around.

David is rocked but tries not to show it.

DAVID:

(stoicly)

There's worse places.

DICK VAN DYKE:

Oh sure. For the first hundred

years. Then it starts to get a

little monotonous.

(beat)

Sleep well.

He taps on the bars for Dan who opens the lock and lets him

out. The door CLANGS shut as the two of them disappear down

the hall. The minute they are gone, the stoicism falls. David

looks around his cell, truly afraid.

CLOSER.

He stares at the tiny cot ... The plain light bulb in the

ceiling ... The single pillow with the plastic covering it

... Forever is starting to look like a long time. David

crosses to the small window and looks out.

HIS POV. OUT THE WINDOW.

Across the town square he can see the side of the Town Hall

complete with the newly painted mural. The "Utopian" view of

Pleasantville is just as he left it with one notable

exception:
The edges of painting are starting to turn back to

BLACK AND WHITE.

CUT TO:

EXT. TOWN HALL. DAY.

It is bathed in sunlight. Dozens of people stream through the

front door for the first trial in Pleasantville's history.

There is a weird carnival atmosphere in the air.

INT. TOWN HALL. DAY.

The place has been transformed from the Chamber of Commerce

meeting hall to a small town courtroom, complete with pews

and ceiling fans. The only carry over from its previous

configuration is the huge CHAMBER OF COMMERCE banner draped

across the back wall.

ANGLE. BENCH.

At the center of the courtroom where the podium used to be is

a large, elevated judge's bench with a Rotary insignia on the

front. Big Bob sits six or seven feet above the proceedings

finally living up to his name. The whole thing is a strange

combination of Franz Kafka and "Inherit the Wind." Big Bob

bangs the gavel ...

CLOSER.

The undertone begins to quiet down. All of the faces in the

pews are Black and White. There is a "colored" section in the

back for standing room only.

ANGLE. JURORS BOX.

George is seated in the front row of the jury, despite his

relationship to one of the defendants. He is dressed

impeccably with his Rotary Pin still gleaming on his lapel.

After a moment or two he sneaks a glance toward the back of

the room ...

ANGLE. BETTY.

She stands in the back with the rest of the "colored" faces.

Betty cranes her head to catch a glimpse of David or Mr.

Johnson. All at once, a hush goes through the crowd.

ANGLE. DOORWAY.

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