Shawshank Redemption

1INT -- CABIN -- NIGHT (1946)

A dark, empty room.

The door bursts open. A MAN and WOMAN enter, drunk and

giggling, horny as hell. No sooner is the door shut than

they're all over each other, ripping at clothes, pawing at

flesh, mouths locked together.

He gropes for a lamp, tries to turn it on, knocks it over

instead. Hell with it. He's got more urgent things to do, like

getting her blouse open and his hands on her breasts. She

arches, moaning, fumbling with his fly. He slams her against

the wall, ripping her skirt. We hear fabric tear.

He enters her right then and there, roughly, up against the

wall. She cries out, hitting her head against the wall but not

caring, grinding against him, clawing his back, shivering with

the sensations running through her. He carries her across the

room with her legs wrapped around him. They fall onto the bed.

CAMERA PULLS BACK, exiting through the window, traveling

smoothly outside...

2EXT -- CABIN -- NIGHT (1946) 2

...to reveal the bungalow, remote in a wooded area, the

lovers' cries spilling into the night...

...and we drift down a wooded path, the sounds of rutting

passion growing fainter, mingling now with the night sounds of

crickets and hoot owls...

...and we begin to hear FAINT MUSIC in the woods, tinny and

incongruous, and still we keep PULLING BACK until...

...a car is revealed. A 1946 Plymouth. Parked in a clearing.

3INT -- PLYMOUTH -- NIGHT (1946) 3

ANDY DUFRESNE, mid-20's, wire rim glasses, three-piece suit.

Under normal circumstances a respectable, solid citizen; hardly

dangerous, perhaps even meek. But these circumstances are far

from normal. He is disheveled, unshaven, and very drunk. A

cigarette smolders in his mouth. His eyes, flinty and hard, are

riveted to the bungalow up the path.

He can hear them f***ing from here.

He raises a bottle of bourbon and knocks it back. The radio

plays softly, painfully romantic, taunting him:

You stepped out of a dream...

You are too wonderful...

To be what you seem...

He opens the glove compartment, pulls out an object wrapped

in a rag. He lays it in his lap and unwraps it carefully --

-- revealing a .38 revolver. Oily, black, evil.

He grabs a box of bullets. Spills them everywhere, all over

the seats and floor. Clumsy. He picks bullets off his lap,

loading them into the gun, one by one, methodical and grim.

Six in the chamber. His gaze goes back to the bungalow.

He shuts off the radio. Abrupt silence, except for the distant

lovers' moans. He takes another shot of bourbon courage, then

opens the door and steps from the car.

4EXT -- PLYMOUTH -- NIGHT (1946) 4

His wingtip shoes crunch on gravel. Loose bullets scatter to

the ground. The bourbon bottle drops and shatters.

He starts up the path, unsteady on his feet. The closer he

gets, the louder the lovemaking becomes. Louder and more

frenzied. The lovers are reaching a climax, their sounds of

passion degenerating into rhythmic gasps and grunts.

WOMAN (O.S.)

Oh god...oh god...oh god...

Andy lurches to a stop, listening. The woman cries out in

orgasm. The sound slams into Andy's brain like an icepick. He

shuts his eyes tightly, wishing the sound would stop.

It finally does, dying away like a siren until all that's left

is the shallow gasping and panting of post-coitus. We hear

languorous laughter, moans of satisfaction.

WOMAN (O.S.)

Oh god...that's sooo good...you're

the best...the best I ever had...

Andy just stands and listens, devastated. He doesn't look like

much of a killer now; he's just a sad little man on a dirt

path in the woods, tears streaming down his face, a loaded gun

held loosely at his side. A pathetic figure, really.

FADE TO BLACK:
1ST TITLE UP

5INT -- COURTROOM -- DAY (1946) 5

THE JURY listens like a gallery of mannequins on display,

pale-faced and stupefied.

D.A. (O.S.)

Mr. Dufresne, describe the

confrontation you had with your

wife the night she was murdered.

ANDY DUFRESNE:

is on the witness stand, hands folded, suit and tie pressed,

hair meticulously combed. He speaks in soft, measured tones:

ANDY:

It was very bitter. She said she

was glad I knew, that she hated all

the sneaking around. She said she

wanted a divorce in Reno.

D.A.

What was your response?

ANDY:

I told her I would not grant one.

D.A.

(refers to his notes)

I'll see you in Hell before I see

you in Reno. Those were the words

you used, Mr. Dufresne, according

to the testimony of your neighbors.

ANDY:

If they say so. I really don't

remember. I was upset.

FADE TO BLACK:
2ND TITLE UP

D.A.

What happened after you and your

wife argued?

ANDY:

She packed a bag and went to stay

with Mr. Quentin.

D.A.

Glenn Quentin. The golf pro at the

Falmouth Hills Country Club. The

man you had recently discovered was

her lover.

(Andy nods)

Did you follow her?

ANDY:

I went to a few bars first. Later,

I decided to drive to Mr. Quentin's

home and confront them. They

weren't there...so I parked my car

in the turnout...and waited.

D.A.

With what intention?

ANDY:

I'm not sure. I was confused. Drunk.

I think mostly I wanted to scare them.

D.A.

You had a gun with you?

ANDY:

Yes. I did.

FADE TO BLACK:
3RD TITLE UP

D.A.

When they arrived, you went up

to the house and murdered them?

ANDY:

No. I was sobering up. I realized

she wasn't worth it. I decided to

let her have her quickie divorce.

D.A.

Quickie divorce indeed. A .38

caliber divorce, wrapped in a

handtowel to muffle the shots,

isn't that what you mean? And then

you shot her lover!

ANDY:

I did not. I got back in the car

and drove home to sleep it off.

Along the way, I stopped and threw

my gun into the Royal River. I feel

I've been very clear on this point.

D.A.

Yes, you have. Where I get hazy,

though, is the part where the

cleaning woman shows up the next

morning and finds your wife and her

lover in bed, riddled with .38

caliber bullets. Does that strike

you as a fantastic coincidence, Mr.

Dufresne, or is it just me?

ANDY:

(softly)

Yes. It does.

D.A.

I'm sorry, Mr. Dufresne, I don't

think the jury heard that.

ANDY:

Yes. It does.

D.A.

Does what?

ANDY:

Strike me as a fantastic coincidence.

D.A.

On that, sir, we are in accord...

FADE TO BLACK! 4TH TITLE UP

D.A.

You claim you threw your gun into

the Royal River before the murders

took place. That's rather convenient.

ANDY:

It's the truth.

D.A.

You recall Lt. Mincher's testimony?

He and his men dragged that river

for three days and nary a gun was

found. So no comparison can be made

between your gun and the bullets

taken from the bloodstained corpses

of the victims. That's also rather

convenient, isn't it, Mr. Dufresne?

ANDY:

(faint, bitter smile)

Since I am innocent of this crime,

sir, I find it decidedly inconvenient

the gun was never found.

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