The Power of One Page #12

GEEL PIET:

Not possible. The kommandant

never allow the people to have

such a thing.

DOC:

He'll think it's a concert for him

and the brass. But we'll know,

ay? And the people will know.

PK:

He'll never let black be with

white here, Doc.

DOC:

If the black is part of the

68.

orchestra, like the piano, he

will.

GEEL PIET:

But the people have no instruments

in this place, big baas.

DOC:

They have their voices. Each

tribe a different voice, a

different language -- all singing

together. It is brilliant, no?

PK:

Except the tribes don't trust each

other. They don't even talk to

each other.

DOC:

(crestfallen)

Oh. This is correct. This stupid

hatred.

GEEL PIET:

They will do it for you, kleine

baas. You are Onoshobishobi

Ingelosi. You bring the tobacco.

You write the letters. You put

clothes on their children's bodies

and food in their bellies. All

you do is ask and they all sing

for you.

DOC:

He's right. Wunderbar. You are

the smartest of us all.

Geel Piet smiles as he lifts the watering pot to exit. A

truncheon stops him. All turn to Sergeant Bormann.

BORMANN:

A kaffir smarter than all of us?

You are a strange German,

Professor.

DOC:

That little maniac with the

moustache in Berlin you admire.

He is the strange German. And

soon kaput, I hope.

BORMANN:

If that's true you'll not be long

for this place, eh, Professor?

69.

DOC:

No, Sergeant. God willing.

BORMANN:

And you, too, little Rooinek. But

you, kaffir, Hitler comes or

goes...

He takes Geel Piet's hand.

BORMANN:

You are going to stay with me.

He forces Geel Piet's hand closer and closer to a cactus

with long thorns.

BORMANN:

And I will find out all your

secrets once your friends are

gone. One slip...

He pushes Geel Piet's hands onto the cactus needle. Geel

Piet does not cry out.

BORMANN:

I have you.

He lets go of Geel Piet's hand. Geel Piet removes it

from the cactus, bloodied.

BORMANN:

Get out of here.

Geel Piet takes his watering can and goes.

BORMANN:

You see, Professor, they are not

like us. A white man would scream

bloody murder.

Doc and PK glare at Bormann. He smirks and walks away.

PK (V.O.)

As the weeks went by and the date

for the concert grew closer, my

life was a whirlwind.

PK and Geel Piet appear before various tribal leaders,

talking, agreeing, shaking hands.

PK (V.O.)

Having obtained the cooperation of

all the tribal groups, we set

about instructing them. Four men

from each tribe were taught the

70.

intricacies of their group's

parts. They were the choralleaders responsible for teachingthe others.

PK and Doc instruct. Doc plays the piano. PK leads the

singers. Geel Piet turns the pages for Doc.

PK (V.O.)

At night the prison hummed withthe men in their cells practicing.

CUT TO:

83 EXT. PRISON TOWER 83

Nervous guards patrol as the SOUNDS of the prisonerssinging wafts through the air.

CUT TO:

84 INT. BOXING ROOM 84

Geel Piet instructs PK.

P.K. (V.O.)

My boxing instruction acceleratedas well. It was as if Geel Piet

was trying to give me every bitof boxing knowledge he had beforewe parted. And always from thecorners and shadows Bormann

watched and waited.

Bormann watches PK and Geel Piet from the door of his

room, his truncheon beating idly against his leg.

CUT TO:

85 INT. RING 85

A photographer sets up a group picture of the boxingsquad -- kids and guards. Geel Piet stands off to one

side, OUT OF FRAME.

PK (V.O.)

Our boxing squad, the BarbertonBlues, won the State Championshipwith a perfect record. I won at

100 lbs. It was my firstchampionship. It made me want

71.

more.

The group disperses. PK beckons the photographer to

wait. He grabs Geel Piet and forces him to stand,

much to the little man's protestations, for a photo

of the two of them. As the picture is taken Geel

Piet has the widest smile imaginable.

86 86

INT. PRISON YARD - NIGHT

The guards, all in crisp uniforms, patrol nervously,

truncheons at the ready. The towers bristle with guns

as hundreds of black prisoners file into the yard.

PK (V.O.)

Finally the night of the concert

arrived. The prison atmosphere,

normally tense, was keening.

Each prisoner entering the yard

is searched. It was prison policy

to keep tribal rivalries boiling.

Divide and conquer. The policy

of control.

PK (V.O.) (CONT'D)

This was to be the first time

in the history of the South

African prison system that the

tribes were allowed to mingle.

And if trouble came, it would be

the last.

All the prisoners are seated on the ground behind Doc,

who is raised with the piano on a small stage. Guards

surround the prisoners -- a solid, edgy border encasing

a black center. The front of the yard is filled with

seats on which sit the Kommandant, his wife, assorted

prison brass, politicians, and a smattering of the local

Afrikaan Hierarchy. PK is overseeing the seating of the

prisoners when Doc comes up to him.

DOC:

Have you seen my page turner?

PK:

No.

He asks a prisoner in Zulu.

PK:

Have you seen Geel Piet?

The man shakes his head. PK looks worried.

72.

DOC:

(reassuring)

He will come.

The Kommandant, all medals and polished leather, mounts

the stage, signaling a beginning to the festivities.

VON ZYL:

Where is Bormann? I need Bormann

to translate to the prisoners.

SMIT:

I don't know, Kommandant.

DOC:

Is there a problem here,

Kommandant?

VON ZYL:

I want to address these filthy

kaffirs but I don't have a

translator.

PK:

I'll translate.

VON ZYL:

You can speak Zulu, PK?

PK:

Yes, sir.

VON ZYL:

All right. Listen up.

He addresses the prisoners.

VON ZYL:

Tell them this concert is the gift

to them from the professor who,

even though he is in prison, is

not a dirty criminal like them

but a man of culture and learning.

PK:

(subtitled)

The Kommandant welcomes you and

looks forward to the great

singing.

VON ZYL:

For such a man I am happy to do

this. But one hair of trouble

and it's finish.

73.

PK:

(subtitled)

He hopes each tribe will sing itsbest and bring honor to itspeople.

VON ZYL:

One wrong move and you get marchedback to your cells and don't comeout for a month.

PK:

(subtitled)

He says tonight let us be onepeople under the African sky.

The prisoners break into spontaneous applause.

looks at PK, unsuspecting, pleased.

VON ZYL:

You did a good job.

Von Zyl

PK:

Thank you, sir.

Professor?

VON ZYL:

He turns the stage over to the professor and takes his

seat. The professor sits at his stool, poised. PK, in

front of the singers, watches him for a cue. Doc dropshis head. PK points to a group of singers. MUSIC and

VOICE blend spontaneously. "The Concerto for the Great

Southland" begins.

Doc plays magnificently with great style. PK focuses on

leading the singers. Each section, each tribe singingits own songs with its own distinct cultural imprints onrhythm, pace and tone.

87 CLOSE UP ON PK 87

leading the singers in and out of the MUSIC.

88 FLASH TO TRUNCHEON 88

being raised and lowered on a familiar back.

89 BACK TO SCENE 89

PK is caught short by the flash.

regains his concentration.

He falters a bit, then

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