The Manchurian Candidate Page #14

RAYMOND:

I’m sure the press would have a field day

with that.

MARCO:

Raymond. They put an implant in me. I

found it yesterday. Maybe they put one

in you.

RAYMOND:

(horrified)

Nobody’s put anything in me.

8/18/03 68.

MARCO:

Great. Let’s prove it. We can go get an

x-ray -- we can check it right now --

Marco moves toward him, Raymond backs away --

RAYMOND:

I want to be supportive of you, Ben, I

do, but -

MARCO:

Just check your back, Raymond --

RAYMOND:

-- this can wait until after the

election.

MARCO:

What are you afraid of? See if there’s a

bump.

RAYMOND:

You should leave. This is not, this is

not --

MARCO:

-- just check --

RAYMOND:

(without checking)

There’s nothing there!

Marco LUNGES at Raymond -- they fall, together, over the

desk, onto the floor -- Chinese food scattering.

MARCO:

Somebody was in your head, with big steel-

toe boots, a couple of cable cutters and

a chainsaw, and they went to town!

Neurons got wasted, circuits rewired,

brain cells obliterated --

KNOCKING at the door:

ANDERSON (O.S.)

Congressman Shaw?

MARCO:

-- you don’t even know what they did!

You don’t -- you can’t CONCEIVE what they

did to you -- and you’re worried about

some lame-ass reporters!?

-- where Marco (stronger, better-trained) wraps Raymond in a

headlock, RIPS Raymond’s shirt from the shoulder --

8/18/03 69.

MARCO:

If I’m wrong they can put me the f***

away --

ANDERSON (O.S.)

-- are you okay?

Ben --

RAYMOND:

MARCO:

-- there -- there’s -- something --

INSISTENT KNOCKING at the door. Marco CLAWS AT THE SKIN on

RAYMOND’S BACK -- sinks his teeth in --

-- Raymond shakes him off, and MARCO slams into the wall.

The office door BANGS open -Anderson

and other agents SWARM Marco -- there’s blood

smeared on Marco’s mouth, his jaws are clenched --

ANDERSON:

(disbelief)

He bit him.

(at Raymond)

Sir, did he bite you?

No.

RAYMOND:

MARCO -- shoved to the floor -- twisted -- handcuffed --

blood SMEARING across the carpet -- his eyes wild with

adrenaline and fear --

RAYMOND -- his hand goes to his back -- his eyes LOCK with

Marco’s for an instant -- then Marco is hustled out the

door.

Sir --

ANDERSON:

RAYMOND:

NOTHING HAPPENED!

Horrified campaign workers crane necks to see inside.

with shock, Raymond pulls his hand away from his back.

Hides the blood.

Mute

120 OMITTED 120

A121 EXT. MANHATTAN - STATUE OF LIBERTY - DAY A121

The giant lady is gilded by sunlight, virgin and

unapproachable.

8/18/03 70.

ELLIE (V.O.)

You want to help him?

121 INT. ELEGANT MANHATTAN RESTAURANT - PRIVATE ROOM - DAY 121

Raymond and Ellie. Through the wavy glass we see a crowded

dining room, the ever-present Secret Service.

RAYMOND:

No. That’d be political suicide. Of

course not. I want you to help him.

ELLIE:

I can’t even imagine why.

RAYMOND:

Because I feel sorry for him. Because I

said I would.

ELLIE:

What should we do? Make him a General?

RAYMOND:

Mother. Look. My campaign people are

getting a restraining order, he’s going

on all the security watch-lists -- but I

won’t lock him up. I’m not pressing

charges.

ELLIE:

What?

RAYMOND:

It’s complicated -- I don’t know. It’s

just complicated and I don’t want to talk

about it, I want to get back to the

campaign and focus on --

ELLIE:

You don’t actually believe his story?

RAYMOND:

No. But he does. And he’s a fine

soldier and ... my friend. And if his

slim hold on sanity requires that I

tolerate his delusions until he can get

help, I’ll do it. It doesn’t diminish

me. And I’m not afraid of him.

ELLIE:

This is why voters love you. Your

humanity and everything. I’ve never

projected humanity.

RAYMOND:

Yes I think telling people you want to

"round up all the towelheads and throw

(MORE)

8/18/03 71.

RAYMOND (CONT’D)

them in a deep pit" probably tips your

hand.

ELLIE:

(laughs)

That was a joke, you dreadful boy.

A BUSBOY delivers Ellie her meal: a thick steak stuffed with

viscous grey -- off Raymond’s disgust:

ELLIE:

Carpetbag steak.

RAYMOND:

Stuffed. With oysters?

She starts to cut meat into child-like, bite-sized pieces

and put them on a side plate, for Raymond.

ELLIE:

The steak part is mostly for you.

Doesn’t it look yummy?

RAYMOND:

My God. In the world’s literature of

food could there possibly be a more

vulgar dish?

ELLIE:

And eating it is an absolute sexual

experience. Try some.

RAYMOND:

Promise me that you’ll help him.

Ellie stops, sighs, puts her fork down and reaches for the

oversized-satchel that doubles as her briefcase and purse.

ELLIE:

Oh, Raymond, how much do you really know

about your friend?

Ellie finds two thick files and plops them down, as

punctuation, in front of Raymond.

122 EXT. FEDERAL BUILDING (MANHATTAN) - DAY 122

Establishing --

PHOTOGRAPHS - SCENE PHOTOS - AL MELVIN’S DEAD BODY

being pulled from the chilly waters of the Potomac. Some

clinical AUTOPSY glossies.

MARCO (V.O.)

Al Melvin ...

8/18/03 72.

123 INT. FEDERAL BUILDING - CONFERENCE ROOM - DAY 123

Marco stares, troubled and sad, at bleak photographs of Al

Melvin’s bloated, waterlogged corpse.

MARCO:

I went to talk to him. But he wasn’t

there.

Across from him are three impatient FBI AGENTS (RAMIREZ,

GOLDRING and JONAS). Ramirez has the notebook Marco took

from Melvin’s. Goldring pushes a tiny digital tape recorder

closer to Marco:

AGENT GOLDRING:

Talk about what?

Marco hesitates -- looks to Lt. Col. Howard, who sits

grimly, off the one side, with Col. Garret.

AGENT GOLDRING:

Dreams?

A lone woman, SPECIAL AGENT VOLK, sits in a distant corner

on a folding chair. She’s implacable, staring intently at

Marco. Ramirez holds up the notebook -- a page of crazy

drawings and text.

MARCO:

Yeah, there are hundreds more of those in

his apartment. Did your people check out

his place --?

AGENT JONAS:

Colonel Garret kindly showed us the file

on you, Marco, you’re the sh*t: Special

Forces. Rangers. Delta.

MARCO:

I wanted to talk to Corporal Melvin about

some unanswered questions involving our

reconnaissance mission in Kuwait, back in

’91 --

AGENT JONAS:

(talks over him)

And he wasn’t there, so, what -- you

thought it’d be okay to break in and wait

for him?

Marco carefully, respectfully stacks the photographs of

Melvin and turns them over. Exchanges a glance with the

female agent.

8/18/03 73.

MARCO:

(at Howard)

I know this game. Will you explain to

them that I know this game?

AGENT RAMIREZ:

Oh right. Army Intelligence. Isn’t that

an oxymoron?

MARCO:

Yeah. Kinda like ’special agent.’

COLONEL GARRET:

Cut it out, Major.

AGENT GOLDRING:

What’s your obsession with Raymond Shaw?

AGENT RAMIREZ:

Man of his dreams.

MARCO:

Listen, you might want to advise your ME

to check for an implant in Corporal

Melvin’s back -- under the skin, just shy

of the scapula, left side ... if he’s not

looking for it, he won’t find it.

Implant. The Feds just stare at him. Like he’s nuts.

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