The Pianist Page #15

SZPILMAN:

Very appropriate.

HENRYK:

(taking the book

back and resuming

his reading)

Yes, that's why I brought it.

Later:

The Szpilmans seated on the kerb. Their attention is caught

by a BOY who has a box of sweets on a string round his

neck. And he's setting the sweets, pocketing money.

HENRYK:

Idiot. What's he think he's going

to do with the money?

Father calls to the Sweet Boy and beckons him over.

FATHER:

How much for a caramel?

THE SWEET BOY:

Twenty zlotys.

FATHER:

What? For one caramel? What d'you

think you're going to do with the

money?

THE SWEET BOY:

Twenty zlotys.

FATHER:

(turning to the

family)

Have we got twenty between us?

They search their pockets and handbags, hand over to Father

what change they can find. He, in turn, hands the money to

the Sweet Boy, who hands over one caramel and goes on his

way.

Father holds the caramel between thumb and forefinger and

examines it carefully. Then, carefully takes out his

penknife and with great care divides the caramel into six

pans. He hands a part to each of the family.

They all exchange a look, an acknowledgement of each other,

almost like a toast, and then they chew, slowly,

deliberately.

The whistle of a locomotive. Sound of trucks rattling over

the rails.

At once, a sound of great agitation from the Jews in the

compound.

EXT. RAILWAY SIDING - DAY

The locomotive pulling cattle and goods trucks comes into

sight, rolling slowly towards the boundary of the

Umschlagplatz and coming to a halt.

EXT. RAILWAY SIDING - DAY

A cordon of Jewish policeman and SS guards. Among the great

throng of people, the Szpilmans trudge towards the train.

Szpilman and Halina walking.

SZPILMAN:

Halina?

HALINA:

What?

SZPILMAN:

Funny time to say this.

HALINA:

What?

SZPILMAN:

wish I knew you better.

HALINA:

(a smile)

Thanks.

THE TRAIN:

The Szpilmans near the train. The first trucks are already

full, the people inside pressed close together, SS men

pushing them with their rifle butts.

People in the trucks cry out in desperation.

The Szpilmans are pushed along by SS men along the cordon

of Jewish policemen, past loaded trucks.

Then, suddenly:

A VOICE:

Szpilman! Szpilman!

A Jewish policeman grabs Szpilman by his collar and pulls

him back out of the police cordon. It's Heller. The rest

of the family have reached the next truck to be filled.

A scuffle as Szpilman tries to resist. Another Jewish

policeman shoves him.

Szpilman stumbles, falls to the ground, in front of him

the closed ranks of the Jewish policemen's backs.

He stands, runs at the cordon, seeing between their heads,

shoulders, Mother, Regina, Henryk and Halina clambering

into the trucks. Father is looking around, bewildered.

SZPILMAN:

(yelling)

Papa!

Father sees him, takes a step towards him, but stops,

smiling helplessly. He raises his hand and waves, then

turns and goes towards the trucks.

Again, Szpilman flings himself at the policemen's shoulders.

SZPILMAN:

(desperate)

Papa! Mama! Halina!

Heller turns on him.

HELLER:

What do you think you're doing,

Szpilman? I've saved your life!

Now, go on, save yourself!

Szpilman stands for a moment, confused, terrified. Then he

turns and starts to run.

HELLER:

Don't run!

Szpilman drops to walking pace, makes for the gates. Workers

are pushing carts piled with the bloated corpses that lay

against the wall. Szpilman falls in with them and they

pass through the gates.

EXT. TRAIN - DAY

The doors of the trucks are closed. The train begins to

move. Slow, laborious. From the trucks, the faint cries of

the occupants.

EXT. STREET BY THE SIDING - DAY

Szpilman catches his breath by a building. An SS man and

Jewish policeman emerge. The Jewish policeman is servile,

crawling to the German. He points to the train -

JEWISH POLICEMAN

Well, off they go for meltdown!

They laugh as they walk away. Szpilman turns and stumbles

down the empty street. The cries from the trucks fading.

He begins to weep, loud, agonised sobs, and staggers on.

EXT. GHETTO STREET - EVENING

Szpilman, lost, empty, aimless, tries to catch his breath

in the aftermath of his tears.

He wanders forlornly down the street, passing empty

buildings with their doors open, windows smashed. Furniture,

torn mattresses and pillows lie scattered. Feathers fly.

Desolation.

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