The Manchurian Candidate Page #3

MELVIN:

-- I’ve been to doctors!

The notebook DROPS BETWEEN THEM, and PAGES SCATTER on the

floor. Both men go down to collect them --

MELVIN:

I’m so stuck, sir. I mean -- I remember

Shaw saving us, but it does not make

sense -- it should have been you. And

Shaw, he --

8/18/03 12.

MARCO:

Well, that’s -- it’s over and done.

We’ve got to move on --

-- Marco rocks back on his heels as he stares down at a

SKETCHY PORTRAIT OF AN ARABIC WOMAN whose face is covered

with intricate designs -- Marco stares curiously, as if he

recognizes her --

MELVIN:

I can’t get my hand around it. I thought

maybe, if you had the dreams ...

MARCO:

(shaken)

You need money --?

MELVIN:

No. No sir.

Self-conscious (people are staring) Melvin shoves the

notebook back inside his jacket.

MARCO:

-- here -

Marco already digging for a crumpled twenty. Melvin waves

it off, backing away, suddenly pissed.

MELVIN:

I don’t need your money.

MARCO:

Okay. Okay. Well, look, Al, I gotta --

MELVIN:

Go.

MARCO:

-- run, yeah. But.

(awkward)

It was great seeing you. And good luck

to you.

Melvin just scowls sadly at Marco. Flash of glass, a door

opens and closes, and Marco is gone.

38 EXT. H.S. PARKING LOT - DAY 38

Marco is motionless in his car, head resting against the

steering wheel. He straightens up, with a thousand-yard

stare. His hands are trembling. Slowly, he grips the

steering wheel ... tighter and tighter ... until the

trembling stops.

8/18/03 13.

39 INT. SUPERMARKET - CHECK-OUT COUNTER - NIGHT 39

A pretty CASHIER (ROSIE) empties Marco’s basket: bottled

water, three romance novels, a bottle of No-Doz, a bag of

tomatoes and two dozen boxes of instant noodles.

40 INT. APARTMENT BUILDING - CORRIDOR - NIGHT 40

Marco comes up the stairs with his groceries. An ELDERLY

WOMAN sticks her head out from her apartment door:

WOMAN:

-- Thirty seven.

Marco stops, looks at her blankly.

WOMAN:

From the landing. Every week it gets

longer. I’m worried about you.

He takes the romance novels out of his grocery bag and hands

them to her.

MARCO:

From the landing. Every week it gets

longer. I’m worried about you.

He takes the romance novels out of his grocery bag and hands

them to her.

MARCO:

None of these involve slave traders or

sheiks, Abby. I checked.

WOMAN:

(blushes)

What do I owe you?

MARCO:

(sad)

A smile.

She does.

41 INT. MARCO’S STUDIO APARTMENT - NIGHT 41

He enters, and a visible exhaustion overtakes him. He turns

on the t.v., and sags to the sofa bed, drained.

BEHIND HIM - ON A BULLETIN BOARD:

yellowing newspaper clippings and wire photographs of

Raymond Shaw. SENATOR’S SON SAVES UNIT IN KUWAIT. "LOST

PATROL" FOUND AFTER THREE DAYS IN DESERT; ALL BUT TWO

SURVIVE ORDEAL. SHAW RECEIVES NATION’S HIGHEST HONOR. GULF

HERO HONORED AT WHITE HOUSE DINNER. SHAW WINS N.Y.

CONGRESSIONAL SEAT; WILL BE YOUNGEST MEMBER OF HOUSE ...

Marco’s not letting anything go.

TV41 ON THE TELEVISION TV41

News coverage, the crowded floor of a political convention:

8/18/03 14.

MARCO:

ROVING REPORTER:

-- with public anxiety rekindled by the

events of Bloody Friday, with the war on

terror marching into yet another year, no

end in sight --

Yawns -- his eyelids flutter -- he shudders awake, digs in

his grocery bag for the No Doz and shakes out half a dozen.

Which he swallows dry.

ROVING REPORTER:

-- the American people are looking for a

new agenda -- but because this party

remains deeply divided on so many issues,

the choice of a vice presidential nominee

may be the key unifying factor for the

delegates of this convention in much the

way Johnson helped Kennedy in 1960 ...

Then he’s up on his feet, moving to the kitchen through the

small, cramped space overflowing with books, unopened boxes

from Amazon.com and Barnes and Noble.

42 INT. MARCO’S APARTMENT - LATER 42

TV42

Marco sits at a clearing on the tiny kitchen table, eating

instant noodles and trying to read Prizzi’s Honor.

VOICE/JORDAN

(on the t.v.)

We need to look inward -- attend to our

own house -- the danger to our country is

not from some terrorists at large --

terrorists we’ve helped engender with

twenty years of failed foreign policy --

An open cabinet door behind Marco reveals ROWS AND ROWS OF

INSTANT NOODLES in the cupboard.

ON THE TELEVISION

TV42

News coverage, the crowded floor of a political convention.

A poised, silvery, avuncular man, SENATOR THOMAS JORDAN

(according to the title on the screen) on the podium:

JORDAN:

-- no, the real danger is from suspending

civil liberties, gutting the Bill of

Rights, allowing our fear to destroy our

democratic ideals --

43 INT. HOTEL SUITE - NIGHT 43

The same speech continues, largely ignored by Congressman

RAYMOND PRENTISS SHAW. Still intense and moody, the new

8/18/03 15.

Raymond Shaw’s suit is expensive and crisp, his hair

perfect. He’s playing solitaire. And winning.

RAYMOND:

(murmurs)

... I am not a professional politician.

I am not a professional politician ...

TV43 JORDAN (T.V.) TV43

-- because once we start overturning our

constitutional protections, our enemies

have won.

RAYMOND:

... I am ... a professional politician.

Not.

KNOCKING on his door -- it opens, and Secret Service AGENT

EVAN ANDERSON removes his key while SEN. ELEANOR SHAW,

pretty and ageless, sweeps in -- closing the door on her

aide (GILLESPIE) --

ELLIE:

Raymond? Darling, what were you going to

do, make me stand out there like room

service?

-- soft curves conceal razor claws and titanium backbone --

she kisses her son on the lips, straightens his collar, his

tie, lets her hands smooth his shirt to his chest for a

little too long, and never stops talking:

ELLIE:

I asked downstairs and Miss Freeman, your

’wrangler’ -- helpful Ms. Freeman -- said

you were up here practicing your speech.

Honestly, I don’t understand why you

insist upon isolating yourself, people

adore you, Raymond, they crave your

company and yet here you are, holed up,

as if you were some kind of emotionally

challenged individual like your father

instead of Raymond Prentiss Shaw, a

handsome, intelligent, people-loving war

hero with a great deal to offer to his

party and his country.

RAYMOND:

No.

ELLIE:

No what? Baby, I haven’t even asked you

a question. Your hair is too flat. And

that tie. The tie is wrong.

8/18/03 16.

RAYMOND:

No to the question you’re going to ask.

No to all the questions you pretend to

want to ask --

ELLIE:

(the tie)

Something a little less busy.

RAYMOND:

-- and no you may not engage in your

usual back-door political thuggery to

shovel me onto the presidential ticket.

ELLIE:

Oh. You’re not interested? I thought

you were. Did I miss my cue?

RAYMOND:

Of course I’m interested -- I wouldn’t be

here if I wasn’t -- but not if it means

attacking the reputation of a statesman

like Thomas Jordan, which I’m sure was

your plan. Let democracy run its course,

mother. Let the people decide.

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