The Power of One Page #8

MORRIE:

What does it cost for you to train

him?

SOLLY:

For my personal attentinons, Mr.

Manager? Fifty pounds a month.

For one of them...

(points to the other

men working with

fighters)

... less.

Morrie pulls out a wad of money and proffers it to Solly.

MORRIE:

Here's for six months in advance.

Three hundred pounds.

Solly pushes the money back.

SOLLY:

Six months? I don't know your

boy'll last six minutes.

PK:

I'll last.

Solly notices that every black fighter in the gym has

stopped working and is staring at PK.

SOLLY:

41.

What are you staring? Punch,

don't stare. C'mon. Work or

you're out.

The blacks go back to work.

SOLLY:

That your gear?

PK:

Yes, sir.

SOLLY:

Go change in the back. We'll see

if you couldn't find a better use

for all that money.

PK:

Thank you, sir.

PK heads towards the rear. Solly turns to Morrie.

SOLLY:

Why's he want to do this, a nice-

looking schoolboy?

MORRIE:

He wants to be welterweight champ

of the world.

Solly breaks up laughing.

SOLLY:

Oh sure, sure. And I'd like to

be twenty-five again.

MORRIE:

You like to make book on it?

SOLLY:

(joking)

You giving odds?

MORRIE:

You name them.

Solly gives him a long look.

SOLLY:

You both meshugah.

Solly walks away.

CUT TO:

42.

56 INT. GYM - RING 56

PK is in the ring getting ready to spar with a well-built

opponent. Morrie stands at ringside with Solly.

SOLLY:

Let's just start out nice and

easy now.

He hits the bell. The fighters circle. PK's opponent

starts punching, jabbing, probing. After two feints he

comes after PK in earnest. PK steps left and peppers

him with three quick blows to the face. Solly's interest

is suddenly piqued. Again the fighters circle. Again

the opponent sets up with jabs and again he attacks.

This time PK dodges, hits him hard and spins him around,

hitting him twice more. A smile appears on Solly's face.

The opponent, angered now, gets more aggressive. PK

keeps bobbing and weaving, sticking and slipping punches.

The opponent unloads, banging away at PK with everything

he has. PK backs up two steps, then shifts positions.

The opponent's momentum carries him into the ropes. As

he comes off the ropes PK throws him an eight-punch

combination, demolishing his opponent. PK steps back.

The opponent sags. Solly hits the bell, clearly excited.

SOLLY:

Never I seen someone so young

throw an eight-punch combination.

Where did you learn such a thing?

PK:

In prison, sir.

SOLLY:

You trying to be a comedian and a

boxer? Mr. Manager, come to my

office. We'll talk terms. You,

get showered, and see me after.

We'll talk training.

Solly and Morrie head off toward Solly's office. PK

watches them go, a small victorious smile on his face.

CUT TO:

57 EXT. BARBETON PRISON GATE 57

Seven-year-old PK stands at the gate holding a bucket,

waiting to be let in.

CUT TO:

43.

58 INT. PRISON HALL 58

PK sits on a bench in the hall. Black prisoners are

marched by, guarded closely. At PK's feet is the metal

bucket. The door to Kommandant Von Zyl's office opens.

A guard summons PK. PK rises, takes his bucket and

enters the office.

CUT TO:

59 INT. VON ZYL'S OFFICE 59

The KOMMANDANT, a brusque man with a salt-and-pepper

brush cut sits behind his big desk.

VON ZYL (KOMMANDANT)

So you are PK.

PK:

Yes, sir.

VON ZYL:

I am Kommandant Von Zyl. The

professor has requested you to be

his visitor so you can continue

your studies on piano and he can

continue with his studies on

cactus. This is the first

specimen?

He alludes to the bucket.

PK:

Yes, sir. Kalanchoe Thrysiflora.

He holds the bucket up.

60 VON ZYL'S POV 60

A small cactus resting on some tobacco leaves.

61 BACK TO SCENE 61

VON ZYL:

The professor taught you this,

ja? Of course to your English

town he is a prisoner, a criminal.

To us who respect such learning

and culture, he is an honored

guest.

44.

He hands PK a pass.

VON ZYL:

This pass is good for any time,

any day. Would you like to see

him now?

PK:

Yes, sir.

VON ZYL:

Come. I will take you myself.

Von Zyl rises and opens the door for PK. They exit.

CUT TO:

62 INT. PRISON CORRIDOR 62

PK and Von Zyl walk together.

VON ZYL:

We have cleared a little plot

behind the cellblock for the

cactus. And tomorrow we have

the professor's piano moved here.

There is not another instrument

like it in the territory. Maybe

one day the two of you can give

a concert for us, hey?

PK:

Yes, sir.

Just then the sound of GRUNTING and THWACKING fills the

air. PK passes a room set up as a boxing gym. Through

a crack in the door he sees a dozen boys being coached

by some guards. Some guards are also being coached by

a second man. A third man, LIEUTENANT SMIT, oversees

the whole training session. PK watches, mesmerized.

VON ZYL:

You like to box?

PK:

I would like to learn, meneer.

Are the boys prisoners?

VON ZYL:

(laughs)

No, no. The sons of the guards.

See that one there?

(points to a

45.

little pudge boy

flailing away)

That's my son, Danie. It's a

club. Lieutenant Smit.

Smit comes over.

SMIT:

Sir?

VON ZYL:

We have room for one more on the

squad?

Smit looks down at PK.

SMIT:

He's a little small, Kommandant.

VON ZYL:

We'll build him up then.

SMIT:

Yes, sir. But I really don't

have anyone to spare to teach him

right now. You know, with the

tournament coming up.

VON ZYL:

There must be someone.

Smit looks around the hall.

63 HIS POV 63

A crumpled, old BLACK MAN, a lifer with broken, bandied

legs and a fighter's flattened face, wiping the floor,

picking up used towels.

64 BACK TO SCENE 64

SMIT:

Piet.

GEEL PIET comes shuffling over, properly submissive.

GEEL PIET (BLACK MAN)

Yes, sir.

SMIT:

You teach this boy basics, and

you teach him good or I knock

your black head flat, you hear?

46.

GEEL PIET:

I teach him best I know, baas.

SMIT:

We train every day. First thing

in the morning. Miss two

trainings, you're gone.

PK:

Yes, meneer.

SMIT:

Come tomorrow. See this old

kaffir.

PK:

Yes, meneer. Thank you, meneer.

VON ZYL:

Lieutenant, a word?

The two men step off to the side.

GEEL PIET:

Don't worry, little baas. Little

can beat big any day. First with

the head, then with the heart.

Little defeat big when little is

smart. You can remember that?

PK:

Yes, sir.

GEEL PIET:

No, no. Don't never call me sir.

'Specially in front of the guards.

PK:

What should I call you?

GEEL PIET:

Piet. Geel Piet.

COACH:

Kaffir. Towels.

Geel Piet assumes his submissive posture again.

GEEL PIET:

Okay, baas. Coming, baas.

He winks at PK and shuffles off. A BELL SOUNDS.

CUT TO:

47.

65 EXT. CARNIVAL 65

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