The Insider
FADE IN:
All we can see is black filling the screen... Black on
black...
INT. A JEEP, LEBANON - DAY
And we're in a speeding SOVIET JEEP... Two men in front,
shouldering assault rifles. HEZBOLLAH SOLDIERS... And there
are three MEN in the back. A middle-aged Man wearing a tired
suit and tinted sunglasses trying to hold on. And on either
side of him, two Men, blindfolded. The man on one side is in
his forties, hands pressed in the pockets of a well-travelled
black-leather jacket... A stocky man, with the edge of a
J.D. Salinger character, he's seen everything at least once.
But even he has lost some of his self-confidence, here,
turning his head, sensing the wind, a blast of Arabic music
that disappears behind him... He's LOWELL BERGMAN. On the
other side of the man in the tired suit is a lanky Man with a
voltmeter around his neck, NORMAN.
EXT. THE BEQA'A VALLEY, BAALBEK, LEBANON - DAY
The Jeep races up narrow winding streets of a Lebanese
village. It's shadowed by a Jeep in front, and in back, each
carrying personnel armed with AK's and a few RPG's... And in
the third Jeep are two blindfolded, not very threatening
Lebanese soldiers. And as the speeding convoy passes a
captured Israeli Armored Personnel Carrier covered with
Arabic graffiti, looking down on them from huge murals are
the stern visages of the Ayatollah Khomeini, and a Hezbollah
religious leader, the Sheikh Fadlallah... And, suddenly the
convoy skids to a stop... And blindfolded Lowell and Norman
are roughly taken out, and pushed, stumbling, through the
cloud of dust without sight... The lanky cameraman is
stopped, told to wait, while Lowell is pushed past armed men
guarding a small stone house, and inside...
A round-faced Man in his mid-forties, with large-framed
glasses, black hair and a grey-black beard, wearing a
dullbend, a turban, sits informally at a kitchen table...
It's the Sheikh Fadlallah whose face stares out at us from
walls. A Gunman cradling an AK-47 sits in an incongruous
purple armchair in a corner. A torn poster of the Seychelles
is on one wall. Another Gunman stands by a window. Lowell
is sat down in a chair at the kitchen table...
THE SHEIKH:
Coffee?
LOWELL:
Yeah... Thank you.
THE SHEIKH:
How have you liked your stay?
LOWELL:
(droll)
What I've seen...I've liked.
The Sheikh smiles. And the smile passes as quickly as it
came. A steaming cup of coffee in a small Arabic demitasse
is put down.
THE SHEIKH:
Please to explain, why I should agree to
interview...with pro-Zionist American
media?
LOWELL:
Because I think Hezbollah is trying to
broaden into a political party right now.
So you care about what you're thought of
in America. And in America, at this
moment in time, Hezbollah does not have a
face.
(confident)
That's why.
And we've first realized this man is not a hostage; he's come
here voluntarily.
THE SHEIKH:
Perhaps you prove journalism objectivity
and I see the questions first. Then I
decide if I grant the interview.
LOWELL:
(blunt)
No. We don't do that.
(beat)
You've seen "60 Minutes" and Mike
Wallace. So you know our reputation for
integrity and objectivity. You also know
we are the highest-rated, most-respected,
TV-magazine news show in America.
The Sheikh quietly looks out his glasses at him, studying
him. And Lowell "closes":
LOWELL (cont'd)
So. Mr. Wallace. Should he get on a
plane or not?
The Sheikh thinks it over and then...
THE SHEIKH:
Tell him I will see him day after
tomorrow.
LOWELL:
That's good. That works.
(after a beat)
Uh, you know, I want to ask you
something...I know it sounds odd...but...
It's quiet...too quiet...
LOWELL (CONT'D)
Hello, Sheikh...?
(no answer)
Hello, Sheikh...?
Silence. He hesitates, starts to lift his blindfold... He
lifts it. And he sees the Sheikh, and his gunmen, are gone.
The house empty. Only his Cameraman, the lanky man, left
there, standing by the door still in his blindfold...
LOWELL (CONT'D)
Norman.
NORMAN:
What? What?
LOWELL:
Take your blindfold off.
The lanky man does and we see the cameraman is Asian-
American.
LOWELL (CONT'D)
(sarcastic)
Welcome to the world.
Norman gives Lowell an ironic look and tests the local
current at an electrical outlet.
NORMAN:
Fluctuating all over the place. Anywhere
we shoot, here, it's gonna be portable
gennies and we'll run cable...
Lowell nods and opens the curtains from this commanding
height. Baalbek and the Beqa'a Valley below gold-domed
mosques. A moment of triumph. He dials his cell phone...
MIKE WALLACE'S VOICE (OVER)
Hello?
LOWELL:
(into phone)
Mike, it's me. We're on...
AND WE HEAR PEOPLE LAUGHING AND ENCOURAGING "GO AHEAD...
OPEN IT..."
INT. A LABORATORY, BROWN & WILLIAMSON, LOUISVILLE, KENTUCKY
- DAY
We're in a SCIENCE LABORATORY... OUT OF FOCUS LAB
TECHNICIANS, in white lab coats, celebrating a heavyset Black
woman's birthday... Half her presents are opened. Balloons,
incongruous, floating above the lab... And there's a sense
that somebody is watching... And from the waist up, a
disembodied figure comes into FOCUS behind a glass partition,
as if quarantined, isolated, an expressionless MAN in his
late forties, watching them...
INT. JEFFREY WIGAND'S OFFICE - DAY
The office soundproofed, he watches the people laughing,
their lips moving. His hair not yet settled on grey, his
face is changing, always interesting. Born in the Bronx,
educated in Upstate New York, he retains little of the accent
and much of the directness. He's JEFFREY WIGAND. He turns
to resume gathering things from his desk...some technical
books, a medical text on asthma...putting them in his
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"The Insider" Scripts.com. STANDS4 LLC, 2024. Web. 5 Nov. 2024. <https://www.scripts.com/script/the_insider_479>.
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