The Deer Hunter Page #7

VINCE:

(hopping now)

Take last night...! Last night he

coulda had twenty f***in' deer!

More! He coulda had more! And look

what he does! I mean look what he

f***in' does!!!

JOHN:

Vince!!!

JOHN throws up his hands in a comical way.

JOHN (CONT'D)

I'll get the boots.

ALBERT:

(in agreement)

Get the boots.

JOHN:

(crossing to Merle's

knapsack)

I mean let's get going before --

MERLE -- who has remained completely calm throughout VINCE's

tirade -- pumps a shell in the chamber of his rifle. JOHN

freezes in his tracks and stares at him, his face gone white.

MERLE:

I said no.

JOHN looks at ALBERT, who is right behind him, and they both

back away. VINCE, who is standing directly opposite MERLE,

begins to tremble. His mouth comes open, closes and comes

open again. Urine begins trickling out from the bottom of his

pants leg, staining the snow. Suddenly, NICK steps forward.

He looks at MERLE, crosses to the knapsack, takes out the

boots, walks over to VINCE and throws them on the road.

NICK:

(gently, to Merle)

Let's hunt.

INT. BUSTED-DOWN OLD LOGGERS SHACK - NIGHT

The place is about nine-by-twelve. The floor is rotted out,

boards are missing from the walls and the entire structure is

canted to the right. Hanging from the roof peak is a hissing

Coleman lantern which sways in the wind.

VINCE, ALBERT and JOHN are sacked out, sound asleep. Beer

cans -- some old, some new -- litter the floor. Wet clothes,

most of them bloody, hang from tie-boards and nails. Strung

up on the end wall are two deer carcasses, one of them with a

knife jammed in it where steaks have been cut out.

Snow is blowing in -- dry, crystal bright. It swirls over

everything and settles on the sleeping figures on the floor.

CAMERA DISCOVERS MERLE AND NICK. They are both in sleeping

bags, lying on rusted bedsprings at either side of the broken

door. The wind gusts and moans. The cabin shudders and then

there is a sudden lull.

MERLE:

Hey, Nick?

NICK:

Huh?

MERLE:

Tomorrow I go with Vince.

NICK:

Hunt with Vince?

MERLE:

Yeah... I mean so he knows... He

doesn't even know.

EXT. THRUWAY PITTSBURGH OFF-RAMP - TWILIGHT

Traffic is heavy, an unending flow of cars, a river of

headlights suspended on a curved concrete trestle which seems

to float in thin air. Behind is the mill, belching steam and

ablaze with fire.

NICK's Cadillac appears, horn blaring, weaving through the

traffic. The car sits low. Trussed to the hood, to the roof,

to the trunk, are the carcasses of five deer. Rope-ends

flutter and bang in the wind. The car shudders and thuds.

Inside, grinning maniacally, NICK, MERLE, VINCE, ALBERT and

JOHN are all shouting and guzzling beer.

EXT. COLUMBINE STREET - TWILIGHT

The Caddy appears, swerving onto Columbine with tires

screaming and NICK still leaning on the horn. The guys are

all hanging out the windows, shouting to FRIENDS, whistling

at GIRLS and banging a triumphant tatoo on the doors.

ALBERT:

Maxie! Hey Maxie wha'd'ya say!

JOHN:

Hey Geraldine, let's eat!

VINCE:

Nothin' to it, a**hole! Piece o'

f***in' cake!

As the car ascends the grade the mill appears behind it,

seeming to loom upward under the pink-streaked twilight sky.

CAMERA HOLDS AS THE CAR COMES TOWARD IT. The headlights blaze

white, like huge hungry stars, and the eyes of the dead deer

on the fenders glitter gold and green and red.

ALBERT leans out the window and gives his Tarzan call... IT

SEEMS TO ECHO, AS IF COMING FROM FAR AWAY,

FREEZE FRAME...

EXT. CLOSE-UP OF JUNGLE LEAF - DAY

The leaf is being eaten by an exotic-looking insect. After

each bite, the insect lifts its head, produces an exceedingly

thoughtful expression, and chews.

WE HEAR THE BUZZ AND CREAK OF OTHER INSECTS, THEN A DULL,

FLUTTERING DRONE. THE DRONE GROWS LOUDER...

EXT. HELICOPTER SQUADRON - SOUTH VIETNAM - DAY

There are twenty of them, coming fast and low, just over the

tops of the trees. Sunlight gleams on their paint and

murderous-looking rockets are packed to their bellies in fat

clusters, like eggs.

Suddenly, in unison, they fire the rockets.

EXT. RANGE OF LOW HILLS - SOUTH VIETNAM - DAY

As the rockets streak away the lightened choppers shoot

upward, lost to sight. There is an eerie silence and then the

hillside explodes, vanishes in a sheet of smoke and flame two

miles wide.

EXT. DUSTY ROAD - DAY

A platoon of AMERICANS have been ambushed on the road. The

bodies lie helter-skelter -- headless, armless, legless, guts

spilled in the dirt. No one moves and there is absolute

silence except for the low buzz of flies.

A V.C. LIEUTENANT steps into sight. He gives a brusque

command and V.C. SOLDIERS step out of the jungle. The

LIEUTENANT bayonets a few of the fallen U.S. SOLDIERS --

idly, without much interest -- and then cracks a joke as he

rubs his finger in the Americans' blood. The V.C. SOLDIERS

laugh, spear a few AMERICANS themselves and repeat the joke.

There is a slight sound. The V.C. LIEUTENANT spins and gives

a low command. Fifty feet away there are three grass huts.

He signals his SOLDIERS to spread out and then he starts

toward them.

INT. GRASS HUT - DAY

South Vietnamese VILLAGERS -- women, children, and a few old

men -- sit huddled in the semi-darkness. The WOMEN hold their

hands over their BABIES' mouths. Flies buzz and there is a

look of stark terror in their faces.

EXT. DUSTY ROAD - DAY

One of the fallen AMERICANS moves. CAMERA CLOSES ON THE

SOLDIER. His face is in the dirt and flies are nuzzling at a

gash in his temple. The face is unshaven, frighteningly

gaunt, but we recognize that it is MERLE.

A WOMAN'S SCREAM comes from the direction of the huts. A shot

rings out. MERLE pulls himself to his hands and knees and

stands there, on all fours, like a dog.

EXT. GRASS HUTS - DAY

The V.C. roust the VILLAGERS from their huts, smashing them

in the back with rifle butts. One of the SOLDIERS emerges

from a hut carrying two small BABIES upside-down by their

feet. One of the WOMEN cries out. The SOLDIER gives her a

kick, swings one of her BABIES in the air and lets it go. The

BABY turns over and over against the blue sky. As the BABY

comes down ANOTHER SOLDIER catches it through the neck on the

end of his bayonet.

EXT. DUSTY ROAD - DAY

MERLE strips a B.A.R. from one of his dead companions, slams

a fresh clip in it, jams two extras in his pants and starts

for the grass huts. His movements are slow, almost dreamlike,

and his face is expressionless, like someone risen from the

dead.

EXT. GRASS HUTS DAY

The VILLAGERS -- about twenty of them -- have been formed in

a line. As the SOLDIERS look on the V.C. LIEUTENANT walks up

and down trying to extract information. The SPEARED BABY lies

in the dust between the two groups. The SECOND BABY tries to

play with it. The SOLDIER who threw the dead baby in the air

squats nearby and yawns.

EXT. GRASS HUTS - ANOTHER ANGLE - DAY

MERLE approaches between the huts. He takes a quick look

around the corner, finds the V.C. all bunched in a neat

package and draws back.

CAMERA CLOSES ON MERLE'S EYES. They are cold, dreaming

things, glittering blankly.

Rate this script:4.0 / 1 vote