The Manchurian Candidate Page #6

-- all coiling up into the shadows of the high ceiling, into

thicker cables and tubes beneath which robotic BRACKET ARMS

adjust, whirring softly, with his every movement ... he’s

drugged to the gills, jerking with spasms as low voltage

electricity courses through his brain ...

... and the women’s shrill zaghareet PEAKS --

NOYLE (O.S.)

Captain Marco --

DR. ATTICUS NOYLE

the mysterious Arabic woman has become the sleek, Caucasian

scientist, ATTICUS NOYLE, whose oddly accented English is

flawless:

NOYLE:

-- when you’re rescued and returned with

your patrol to command headquarters, what

will be among the first duties you will

undertake?

56 ON MARCO all rigged up with his wires --56

MARCO:

I’ll recommend Sergeant Shaw for the

Medal of Honor, ma’am. He saved our

lives, terminated the enemy and led us

across the desert to safety.

Now the dreamscape visuals seem REAR-PROJECTED on luminous,

rippling white fabric ... the Bedouin people, tomato/brain

images, the mystery woman, appear as TWO-DIMENSIONAL FILMED

IMAGES, flickering across draperies ...

NOYLE:

Yes. Brilliant. But there were

casualties?

MARCO:

There are always casualties, ma’am.

... the DREAM SOUNDS (wind, fabric, women chanting) emanate

from audio speakers, the sandstorm’s wind caused by huge,

moveable FANS ...

... IMPRESSION of an OLD MAN shaking a percussive gourd,

mesmerizing ...

... IMPRESSIONS of the squad all rigged up like Marco, with

tubes and wires ... Laurent glides behind them -- lab coat,

SURGICAL GLOVES on his hands ...

8/18/03 26.

A collection of remote cameras on scaffolding and tripods

BUZZ and WHIR as they swivel to follow him.

NOYLE:

Here, then, are ten subject soldiers in a

clinically-induced functional fugue

state. Hyperdelusional that they’ve been

bivouacked in a small caravansary to wait

out a sandstorm.

Marco blinks:
sees the mysterious Arabic woman dressed in

Noyle’s simple suit.

MYSTERIOUS WOMAN

(smiles)

A simple Pavlovian parlor trick.

SNAPPING of fabric, the wind gets louder.

57

MARCO -- looks around -- no more tubes or wires, and NOYLE 57

is now a PROJECTED IMAGE on the fabric. The dreamscape is

bending, smearing ... realities overlapping.

PUSHING IN ON SPOOKY, HERKY-JERKY, STREAMING-VIDEO-STYLE

NOYLE IMAGE:

NOYLE:

Our Candidate’s course of treatment will,

of course, involve considerably more

sophisticated intervention over a

sustained time period, to ensure that a

stable mechanism is irrevocably in place.

We employ a kind of neurocellular

conversion. Psychological abreaction

through genomic repurposing.

(then)

"But Dr. Noyle, all the literature -- all

the literature says you cannot make an

individual act against his deepest moral

nature -- or his own self interest."

(beat)

Hmmm. Let’s see.

(then)

Sgt. Shaw. Ever killed anyone?

IMPRESSIONS of RAYMOND -- hyper-alert -- frighteningly

engaged, and agreeable.

RAYMOND:

No ma’am.

NOYLE:

Not even in combat?

RAYMOND:

No ma’am.

8/18/03 27.

NOYLE:

Brilliant. Casualty time.

Raymond’s wires and tubes float with him as he circles,

pleasantly exchanging greetings with Marco --

RAYMOND:

Captain.

MARCO:

Sergeant.

NOYLE:

Raymond. Suffocate Private Mavole.

IMPRESSION of Raymond thrusting a plastic bag over Mavole’s

head --

MAVOLE:

Whoawhoa -- wait -- wait a sec --

-- Raymond’s hands twist it TIGHTLY -- Mavole’s limbs in

turmoil, hands fluttering, his SHROUDED FACE suffocating in

the translucent fog of the plastic bag --

PFC. BOBBY BAKER -- intent upon Raymond’s killing of Mavole,

gaze unwavering, untroubled -- SOUND of the zaghareet,

peaking -

NOYLE (O.S.)

And at the instant he completes this, or

any task, Raymond has already forgotten

that he has ever been involved in it.

RAYMOND SHAW -- all business -- focused and purposeful --

twists the bag even tighter -- the plastic bag steaming --

tubes break, spit liquid, blood -- wires SPARK -- while

Noyle floats through the b.g., a blur --

58 INT. MARCO’S STUDIO APARTMENT - NIGHT 58

Marco willing himself awake -- like a man shaking off death

itself -- the t.v.’s a blurred reflection warped across the

window glass behind him:

TV58 NEWSCASTER #2 TV58

(distant)

... Wisconsin makes it official. Raymond

Shaw is the vice-presidential nominee ...

59 EXT. SERIES OF SHOTS - WASHINGTON D.C. - DAY 59

Monuments, stark and cold. Capitol Hill. Supreme Court.

The White House. The Lincoln Memorial ... the Pentagon.

8/18/03 28.

A60 EXT. WALTER REED ARMY HOSPITAL - DAY A60

Establishing, as:

LT. COL. HOWARD (O.S.)

Taking your meds?

60 INT. WALTER REED HOSPITAL - ARMY SHRINK’S OFFICE - DAY 60

Marco with LT. COL. HOWARD, a kindly but pedantic Army staff

psychiatrist, referring to notes:

MARCO (O.S.)

Yes sir.

(beat)

No sir.

Beat. Howard looks up at Marco.

MARCO:

The meds make me ... spongy.

I’m not sharp --

I float.

LT. COL. HOWARD

The meds help you sleep.

MARCO:

When I sleep, I dream.

dream, sir.

I don’t want to

LT. COL. HOWARD

You’re off your meds, sleep-deprived, you

have an unexpected encounter with a

member of your Gulf War recon team, Al

Melvin, who mentions some dreams he’s

been having --

MARCO:

Dreams like mine.

LT. COL. HOWARD

(ignores)

-- and suddenly your own bad dreams come

charging back. Made worse by your

chronic fear of them. Add in all the

recent campaign news about Congressman

Shaw, which is obviously rekindling your

feelings of guilt and jealousy --

MARCO:

-- I’m not jealous of Raymond Shaw, sir.

LT. COL. HOWARD

Okay. How did you feel when you heard

the news from the convention?

Marco shrugs.

8/18/03 29.

LT. COL. HOWARD

A shrug isn’t a feeling.

MARCO:

I felt ... fine. No big deal.

LT. COL. HOWARD

Fine.

MARCO:

Yes.

(almost angry)

Glad for him. He deserves it. Raymond

Shaw is probably the kindest, bravest,

warmest -

MARCO LT. COL. HOWARD

-- most selfless human being -- most selfless human being

I’ve ever ... you’ve ever known.

Half a beat --

LT. COL. HOWARD

You’re f***ing with me, Major.

MARCO:

No sir. I wouldn’t do that, sir.

LT. COL. HOWARD

What other conclusion can I draw?

Marco says nothing. Holding back what he’s thinking.

LT. COL. HOWARD

Look, we’ve been over this a million

times. Until you forgive yourself for

what happened that night in Kuwait, the

loss of your men -- for what you did, for

what you didn’t do ...

No reaction from Marco. The Lt. Colonel sighs.

LT. COL. HOWARD

How’s Public Affairs?

MARCO:

It sucks, sir. I want to get back to

Intelligence.

LT. COL. HOWARD

Then for God’s sake, Ben, go back on your

meds. And stay on them, this time. Get

some sleep. I’ll see you in two weeks.

MARCO:

Yes sir. Same time, same station.

8/18/03 30.

Marco starts to get up --

LT. COL. HOWARD

And stay the hell away from television.

61 OMITTED 61

62 OMITTED 62

63 INT./EXT. D.C. BOTANICAL GARDENS - DAY 63

Festive champagne brunch. Lush indoor foliage. The Capitol

Dome visible in the b.g. Huge, graphic banners declaim the

campaign slogan:
SECURE TOMORROW and the ticket: ARTHUR-

SHAW.

An elegant ALL-WOMAN HARP ORCHESTRA plays new-age patriotic

music, and a thick crowd of WEALTHY PARTY INNER CIRCLE

members jostle between elegant food stations, or cue up for

thirty seconds with presidential-hopeful Robert Arthur.

MOVING WITH - MARCO

who has two retired, old bastard Generals in his company,

stars gleaming on their shoulders. Marco’s eyes scan the

room; he’s a man on a mission:

GENERAL SLOAN:

No offense, Major, but it chaps my ass we

gotta have a babysitter.

MARCO:

Sir, I’m just here to keep you from

getting into fist-fights with the Navy

guys.

The old generals laugh, appreciate this.

eureka -- he’s found his target:

Marco stops --

MARCO’S P.O.V. - ACROSS THE HUGE ROOM - RAYMOND

holding side-show vice-presidential court for some enamored

young women and their banker husbands. SECRET SERVICE

agents, including his everpresent Anderson, maintaining a

careful perimeter.

GENERAL WILSON (O.S.)

Major Marco --

MARCO AND THE GENERALS

Marco forced to pull his gaze away from Raymond:

GENERAL WILSON:

-- this Army of Two’s gonna do some recon

on the no host bar.

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