The English Patient

1EXT. LATE 1942. THE SAHARA DESERT. DAY.

SILENCE. THE DESERT seen from the air. An ocean of dunes for mile

after mile. The late sun turns the sand every color from crimson to

black.

An old AEROPLANE is flying over the Sahara. Its shadow swims over the

contours of sand.

A woman's voice begins to sing unaccompanied on the track. Szerelem,

szerelem, she cries, in a haunting lament for her loved one.

INSIDE the aeroplane are two figures. One, A WOMAN, seems to be

asleep. Her pale head rests against the side of the cockpit. THE

PILOT, a man, wears goggles and a leather helmet. He is singing, too,

but we can't hear him or the plane or anything save the singer's

plaintive voice.

The plane shudders over a ridge. Beneath it A SUDDEN CLUSTER OF MEN

AND MACHINES, camouflage nets draped over the sprawl of gasoline tanks

and armored vehicles. An OFFICER, GERMAN, focuses his field glasses.

The glasses pick out the MARKINGS on the plane. They are English. An

ANTI-AIRCRAFT GUN swivels furiously.

Shocking bursts of GUNFIRE. Explosions rock the plane, which lurches

violently. THE WOMAN SLUMPS FORWARD, slamming her head against the

instruments. The pilot grabs her, pulls her back, but she's not

conscious. The fuel tank above their heads is punctured. It sprays

them both, then EXPLODES.

THE MAN FALLS OUT OF THE SKY, clinging to his dead lover. The are both

ON FIRE. She is wrapped in a parachute silk and it burns fiercely. He

looks up to see the flames licking at his own parachute as it carries

them slowly to earth. Even his helmet is on fire, but the man makes no

sound as the flames erase all that matters - his name, his past, his

face, his lover...

2EXT. THE DESERT. 1942. DAY.

THE PILOT HAS BEEN RESCUED BY BEDOUIN TRIBESMEN. Behind them the

wreckage of the plane, still smoking, the Arabs picking over it. A

SILVER THIMBLE glints in the sun, is retrieved. Another man comes

across A LARGE LEATHER-BOUND BOOK and takes it over to the Pilot. The

Pilot is charred. His helmet has melted into his head. He's oblivious

to this, cares only about the woman who crashed with him. He twists

frantically to find her. Two men pick him up and carry him across to a

litter where they carefully wrap him in blankets.

3EXT. THE DESERT. DUSK.

The Pilot is being carried across the desert. A mask covers his face.

His view of the world is through the slats of reed. He glimpses

camels, fierce low sun, the men who carry him.

4EXT. AN OASIS. DUSK.

The Pilot sees a man squat down beside him, takes a date from a sack

and begin to chew it. Carefully, the Bedouin eases the mask from the

Pilot's face, leaving bandages of cloth and oil, but revealing a mouth.

He stops chewing and passes the pulped date into the Pilot's mouth.

Mouth to mouth.

4a*.EXT. DESERT. DAWN.

THE CARAVANSERAI CROSSES THE DESERT, silhouetted against the dunes.

5EXT. AN OASIS. NIGHT.

The SOUND OF GLASS, of tiny chimes. A music of glass.

AN ARAB HEAD APPEARS ON A MOVING TABLE IN THE DESERT. It floats in

darkness, shimmering from the light of a fire. The image develops to

reveal a man carrying a giant wooden yoke from which hang DOZENS OF

SMALL GLASS BOTTLES, on different lengths of string and wire. He could

be an angel.

The man approaches the litter which carries the Pilot. He's still in

the protective reed mask, wrapped in blankets. The MERCHANT DOCTOR

stands over the burned body and sinks sticks either side of him deep

into the sand, then moves away, free of the yoke, which balances in the

support of the two crutches. He puts some liquid in the Pilot's

tongue, whose eyes almost instantly begin to roll. Then he slowly sets

about peeling away the layers of oiled cloth which protect the Pilot's

flesh.

The Merchant Doctor crouches in front of the curtain of bottles and

MAKES A SKIN CUP with the soles of his feet, then leans back to pluck,

hardly looking, certain bottles, which he uncorks and mixes in the bowl

he'd made with his feet. This mixture he uses to anoint the burned

skin. Next he finds green-black PASTE - ground Peacock Bone - and

BEGINS TO RUB IT on to the Pilot's rib cage. All the while he us

humming and chanting. The bottles continue to jingle.

6*.EXT. ITALIAN HILL ROAD. EARLY 1945. DAY.

The sand gives way to trees, the jingling bottles to distant church

bells, as A CONVOY OF TWENTY TRUCKS - Red Cross vehicles and some

supply vehicles - snakes along a bumpy hill road. The war in Italy is

largely over and the Allies are moving up the country, the wounded and

supply lines slowly following.

7*.INT. RED CROSS TRUCK. DAY.

A young CANADIAN NURSE, HANA, sits in a truck full of patients. Hana

pays special care to the PATIENT lying in the stretcher alongside her.

This is the PILOT - now known as THE ENGLISH PATIENT. A web of scars

covers the Patient's face and body. They have the quality of a livid

tattoo, magenta and green-black. The hair has largely gone and the

effect is curious, lassoing his features, the strong nose, the eyes

liquid. It's a warrior's face. But he has no physical strength. He

coughs violently as the trucks shudders along the road.

8*.EXT. ITALIAN HILL ROAD. DAY.

A JEEP pulls out of the line and approaches the Red Cross truck

containing Hana and the Patient. The horn blows and Hana looks out to

see it contains her best friend, JAN. TWO YOUNG SOLDIERS sit up front,

one driving, both grinning. Jan signals for Hana's attention.

JAN:

There's meant to be lace in the next

village - the boys are taking me.

HANA:

I'm not sewing anything else.

JAN:

(mischievously)

You don't have any money, do you?

Just in case there's silk.

HANA:

No!

JAN:

Hana, I know you do!

Hana leans under the tarpaulin, holding some DOLLARS. The two hands -

hers and Jan's - reach for each other as the vehicles bump along side

by side. They laugh at the effort. Jan's GOLD BRACELET catches the

sun and glints.

HANA:

I'm not sewing anything else for you!

JAN:

(getting the money)

I love you.

The Jeep accelerates away. Hana sighs to the patient.

Suddenly AN EXPLOSION shatters the calm as the jeep runs over a MINE.

The jeep is THROWN into the air. The convoy halts and there's chaos as

soldiers run back pulling people out of the vehicles. Hana runs the

other way, towards the accident, until she is prevented from passing by

a soldier.

9*.EXT. ITALIAN HILL ROAD. LATER.

-- and there's still chaos as two SAPPERS arrive on motorcycles. One

of them, a SIKH, wears a turban.

The motorcycles arrive at the front of the convoy. A nurse, MARY, is

helping a doctor, OLIVER, attend to the injured driver. The other two

bodies are covered with blankets. There's blood everywhere. The Sikh

and his colleague pull out the paraphernalia of their bomb disposal

equipment.

10EXT. ITALIAN HILL ROAD. DAY.

KIP, the Sikh Lieutenant, and HARDY, his sergeant, explore the road

ahead of the becalmed convoy, using saucer-like METAL DETECTORS and

HEADSETS. Kip is young, lithe, contained, utterly focused as they inch

along the debris-strewn road. He stiffens as he registers metal. With

a bayonet he carefully scrapes at the mud-caked surface. Something

GLEAMS. Suddenly, A PAIR OF FEET walks across his vision as HANA

HURRIES PAST, walking carelessly up the road. It's so surreal that

neither man registers at first, and then Kip is shouting.

Rate this script:0.0 / 0 votes