Reagan

EXT. MOUNT VERNON, BALTIMORE - SEPTEMBER 17, 1984 - DAY

Framed in a blue sky, a marble effigy of GEORGE WASHINGTON is

perched atop a stone-white column above red-brick row-houses.

Beneath, FRANK CORDEN (mid 20s, curly hair cut into a

preppier ‘do) does his door-to-door civic duty.

COURTNEY (30s, box-blonde mother of three, B’more accent)

answers his knock with a KENT ULTRA pinched in her fingers.

FRANK:

Good morning, Miss. Can I trouble

you for a moment of your time?

COURTNEY:

Oh Jesus, not another one. I bought

an electric cheese grater from you

people. Thing broke a‘soon as I

stuck in the Muenster.

FRANK:

You sound pretty ‘ungrateful.’

He likes his joke much more than she does.

COURTNEY:

Whadderya sellin’? You got a minute;

Card Sharks is in commercial.

FRANK:

I’m actually not a salesman, Miss.

I was wondering if you’re currently

registered to vote.

COURTNEY:

Not interested.

She tries to close the door. Frank gives it a stiff-arm.

FRANK:

You really should be.

COURTNEY:

Eh, politicians are all the same.

FRANK:

That’s not true. Perhaps if you

knew more about the candidates-

COURTNEY:

I know about the candidates. Reagan

did that movie where he was talkin’

to a monkey.

(MORE)

2.

COURTNEY (CONT'D)

That’s weird:
a president talkin’

to a monkey? It’s unnatural. And

the Mondale guy, you can’t say it,

but I will:
p*ssy.

FRANK:

Well, he’s certainly a little

skittish on foreign policy.

COURTNEY:

Big fat p*ssy. Betcha growin’ up he

got his ass kicked like...every

day. By like girls and stuff. Those

are my choices, why should I vote?

Frank was waiting for that question. He’s so good at this

speech, it sounds new even for the hundredth time.

FRANK:

Because voting is sacred. Because

everything this country is about

started with the right to be heard.

Our parents and grandparents and

great-great-grandparents fought and

died for that right. Where do your

ancestors come from?

COURTNEY:

(big nicotine exhale)

Down’a street.

FRANK:

Well, I’m sure I’ll talk to them in

a minute then. Miss, there are

people just like you in Russia,

China, East Germany and around the

world who would give everything for

the control that you have over how

your country is run. I’m not here

to say you have to vote, Miss. I’m

here to celebrate that you get to.

Courtney takes a pensive drag from the cigarette.

COURTNEY:

I can sign up with you?

FRANK:

Absolutely.

He hands her a clipboard and a pen.

3.

FRANK (CONT’D)

And if I may...

(reading her name)

Courtney:
I’d like to encourage you

to reelect President Ronald Reagan.

COURTNEY:

Nah, I’m votin’ for the p*ssy. That

monkey sh*t really creeps me out.

She hands back the clipboard and shuts the door. Frank

chooses to still count it as a victory.

Cue Johnny Cash’s cover of ‘PERSONAL JESUS’ as Frank

continues down the long street of identical row-houses. He

knocks on doors. Same smile, same speech. Some sign up, some

don’t. Neither fazes Frank. He believes in his mission.

INT. FRANK’S CAR - LATER

A shitbox ‘81 HYUNDAI PONY. The passenger seat is covered in

stacked registration CLIPBOARDS, Styrofoam BURGER BOXES, and

a MOUTHWASH BOTTLE. Frank takes a sip of mouthwash, spits it

back into a McDonald’s cup. No time for real hygiene.

Frank pilots this deathtrap down I-95 toward WASHINGTON, DC.

INT. REAGAN CAMPAIGN OFFICE, GEORGETOWN - DAY

Frank carefully prints names on COFFEE CUPS with a sharpie.

Pours each to order with the right cream and sugar levels.

Campaign posters adorn the walls as busy VOLUNTEERS hum with

the lines read verbatim from cold-calling scripts. ‘Have you

considered?’ ‘Are you better off now?’ ‘Continuing progress.’

Frank glides through the phone banks, handing out

personalized pick-me-ups to each volunteer.

The last is his least favorite to give, labeled ‘KARL.’

INT. CAMPAIGN OFFICE - PRIVATE OFFICE

The eponymous KARL (30s, suspenders, punchable face) squeezes

a HAND GRIP while sticking BLUE PINS in a map of the state of

Maryland. Frank sets his coffee on his desk.

KARL:

Look at this, Frankie. It’s an ass-

kicking in progress. Whole country’s

gonna be one big sea of blue.

4.

FRANK:

We’re red now. Democrats are blue.

KARL:

Bullshit they’re blue. Red’s the

Commie color. They’re our...Commies.

FRANK:

Well, they’re in disguise then. You

see my numbers? I had a big day.

KARL:

Could be better.

FRANK:

Could be better? I registered over

two hundred new voters.

KARL:

And forty of them are voting for

Mondale. Signing up Bad Guys

doesn’t count. I knocked ‘em off

your gross, subtracted them from

your Good Guys to give you a grand

total of...

(checking a sheet)

...Could Be Better.

FRANK:

Karl, you can’t do that. I need to

get credit for my work.

KARL:

You want credit, Frankie, you’re on

the wrong Hill.

Frank scowls at Karl in what seems like a daily occurrence.

He storms out of the office. Karl calls after him.

KARL (CONT’D)

Gonna need to get those stats up,

Frankie. The Good Guys are blue!

INT. CAMPAIGN OFFICE - NOVEMBER 6, 1984

The office buzzes again, this time with jubilant celebration

as the television announces good news. And DAN RATHER.

DAN RATHER:

And I’m getting word that CBS News

can confirm the projection of a

victory for the incumbent,

President Ronald Wilson Reagan.

5.

The primitive graphics color states in for Reagan...in RED.

DAN RATHER (CONT’D)

And it’s looking like a landslide.

A venerable sea of red...

Karl locks eyes with a celebrating Frank, who mouths the word

‘Red!’ to his adversary. Karl responds with a finger.

INT. CAPITOL HILL OFFICE - WAITING ROOM - DECEMBER 1, 1984

A stark waiting room, egg-white other than the dark wood

chairs and massive American flag. Frank sits nervously,

wiping his hands on the pants of his rarely-worn suit. He

pulls evidence of the last time he donned it from his inner

pocket:
a PROGRAM from his brother’s wedding in October ‘82.

INT. CAPITOL HILL OFFICE - PAYNE’S OFFICE - MINUTES LATER

Frank sits across from KEN PAYNE (50s, a doughy frog-man),

Coms Director for the Capitol Hill Internship Program.

PAYNE:

Excellent numbers, Mr. Corden.

FRANK:

Thank you sir. They’re actually

even better, I had a few deleted.

We don’t have to go into it.

PAYNE:

Frank-- May I call you Frank?

(before he can answer)

I’m going to. Frank, politics is a

noble profession.

FRANK:

The best.

PAYNE:

With your resume, you can do just

about anything. Why you picking us?

FRANK:

The whole ‘By the People’ thing.

It’s what makes our country

different. When someone votes for

you, you’re making them a promise. I

want to help keep it.

PAYNE:

Ah. One of those!

6.

Frank can’t tell if that’s a good thing.

FRANK:

Yup. Definitely.

PAYNE:

I’ve got an old friend over in the

Treasury. We go way back. At Yale,

we double-teamed this Chinese

prostitute. Two for one deal, if

you know what I mean!

He laughs as only old white dudes can. Frank tries to match

his ‘Hahs!’ and ‘Ho ho whoas!”

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