The Saint

FADE IN:

The majestic city and bay, as seen from the elevation of the surrounding Shan Ho hills as we SUPER –

HONG KONG – 1965

PANNING away from the city, we come before the bleak facade of the SAINT IGNATIUS ORPHANAGE.

BOY'S VOICE (o.s.)

Simon Magus was a magician and sorcerer in uhhm... Sumatra.

INT. HONG KONG - SAINT IGNATIUS ORPHANAGE - DAY

Twenty boys, aged 7 to 12, sit at spartan desks, bibles raised. FATHER O'NEAL walks amongst them. A career Jesuit with razor eyes and thin lips. An awful man.

FATHER 0'NEAL

(sternly)

Sumeria. And what happened to him Francis?

FRANCIS, 12, is the eldest and largest boy.

FRANCIS:

Jesus' disciples came and performed miracles. When Simon Magus saw the miracles he offered disciple Peter gold for the powers of God.

FATHER 0'NEAL

What did disciple Peter say to that? Michael Quinn?

Father O'Neal stands before the youngest, littlest boy, who, unlike the others, exhibits no fear in his huge, intelligent eyes. Father O'Neal hates this boy.

The boy, MICHAEL QUINN, doesn't respond. Father O'Neal snatches his bible, revealing a SECOND BOOK hidden behind it.

It's a dime store pulp adventure with a gaudy cover entitled "THE KNIGHTS TEMPLAR."

FATHER 0'NEAL

Answer the question Michael.

The little boy stares up at him.

MICHAEL QUINN:

That's not my name.

Father O'Neal yanks the boy from the chair. Drags him by the arm across the room and out into the corridor.

THE OTHER BOYS wait two seconds, then they spring up and run, en masse, to the door. Grouped in the threshold, straining for a good view, they watch as --

FATHER O'NEIL pulls Michael Quinn into an office down the corridor. The door has a stained-glass window.

It begins. We see it in SILHOUETTE: Father O'Neal with a CANE SWITCH in his hand, the boy beneath him. Down the switch comes. Again. And again. The boy YELPS. And again and again and again... and now he SCREAMS...

THE BOYS HUDDLED IN THE DOORWAY begin to wince. With every repeated, merciless descent of the switch...

INT. SAINT IGNATIUS ORPHANAGE - EATING HALL - NIGHT

THE BOYS sit at benches. Michael Quinn stares stoically ahead. The back of his shirt is striped with blood.

FATHER YIN, 50's, a Chinese Jesuit, grim in black frock and white collar, paces amongst the benches. Father O'Neal watches from the side.

FATHER YIN:

Why one child is born into a good home and another into poverty - that is but part of God's design. All of you are unwanted, put here because of the sins of your unwedded mothers. The church has fed you and educated you. Given you a home. A name. An identity.

Stopping before Michael Quinn, he points to a PORTRAIT ON THE WALL of a stern-faced Jesuit.

FATHER YIN:

Who is that, boy?

MICHAEL QUINN:

Father Michael Quinn.

FATHER YIN:

Yes. A great man. You ungrateful little cur, you will sit here without food until you appreciate your namesake.

(to the other boys)

All of you will sit with him. Put lunch away, Mr. Fong.

MR. FONG, the orphanage cook, wheels a FOOD CART into the kitchen and locks the door. Father Yin exits, followed by Father O'Neal and Mr. Fong, leaving --

A HUNDRED BOYS staring at Michael Quinn.

DISSOLVE TO:

INT. ORPHANAGE - NIGHT

Again, Father Yin stands before Michael Quinn. The boys are seated for their evening meal.

FATHER YIN:

What is your name, boy?

Silence. Michael Quinn stares straight ahead.

FATHER YIN:

Put supper away, Mr. Fong.

MR. FONG wheels the FOOD CART into the kitchen and locks the door. Again, a hundred boys stare at Michael Quinn.

INT . ORPHANAGE BUNKROOM - NIGHT

A long, narrow room with bunkbeds. The boys aren't sleeping. They're grouped around Michael Quinn's bunk. One boy has his hand clamped to Michael's, mouth, the others are wailing on him... and outside --

INT. ORPHANAGE - CORRIDOR OUTSIDE BUNKROOM - NIGHT

Fathers O'Neal and Yin watch through the door.

FATHER YIN:

Spareth the rod, spoileth the child.

INT. ORPHANAGE - MORNING

Father Yin grits his teeth, staring down at Michael Quinn, whose face is welted. Nothing has changed.

FATHER YIN:

Put breakfast away, Mr. Fong.

Again, the FOOD CART goes into the kitchen. The Fathers and Mr. Fong exit. The boys rise, moving toward Michael Quinn. They're going to kick the living sh*t out of him.

MICHAEL QUINN:

Stop. You'll have your breakfast.

Michael Quinn walks to the locked kitchen door. The other boys, curious, follow.

Michael Quinn kneels before the door, examining the lock. He looks around. On a counter next to the door are EATING UTENSILS. Michael Quinn picks up A FORK. He bends the fork's tines. Inserts it in the lock. He fishes around for a second. Nothing happens. He pulls the fork out, rebends it, and inserts it in the lock again. And CLICK.. ..the lock pops.

Michael Quinn turns and smiles. The boys flood inside. The hungry boys go for the food cart, scooping up eggs and sausage. They're ravenous. Francis, mouth full of sausage, beams at Michael Quinn.

FRANCIS:

They should've named you Simon, like Simon Magus the sorcerer.

MICHAEL QUINN:

No. Simon. . . .

(pulls the "KNIGHTS TEMPLAR" paperback from his back pocket)

...Templar.

Suddenly a SHARP WHISTLE. The boys, startled, whip their necks around. MR. FONG stands in the doorway. Father O'Neal and Father Yin enter quickly. The boys back away from the food cart.

FATHER YIN:

Who.. . who did this...?

The boys look at Michael Quinn. Then Francis speaks:

FRANCIS:

I did father.

And another boy, James:

JAMES:

I did father. .

And another and another: "I did father." They all say it. And the littlest youngest boy, surrounded by his new confederates, smiles slightly. His eyes glint.

CUT TO:

Begin MAIN TITLE SEQUENCE

EXT. ST. PETERSBURG, RUSSIA - NIGHT

A chilly September night. A rally is underway in the Dvortsovaya Ploshchad, the vast square at the foot of Nevsky Prospect Boulevard. The Winter Palace and Hermitage loom in the b.g. 500,000 ST. PETERS BURGERS' stand shoulder-to-shoulder, listening to a SPEECH. INTERNATIONAL T.V. CREWS (the BBC, CNN, etc.) are transmitting the event.

SPEAKER (o.s.)

In I917 Lenin stood here and promised a new age. The result? Tyranny. Poverty. The darkest years in our history.

THE SPEAKER stands on a platform behind a cluster of microphones, his image projected on a huge screen (like the Sony screen in Times Square) above and behind him.

He is MICHAEL ROMANOV, coal-haired, fierce, ardent, eyes glinting like onyx, voice cutting the night air.

ROMANOV:

In 1987 Gorbachev stood here and promised a new age. The result? An end to communism. Democracy. A free economy. And what else? Chaos.

(crowd CHEERS)

The economy run by criminals, the government run by charlatans. And they are in league together! Thieves! Traitors!

(louder CHEERS)

Men and women of St. Petersburg, citizens of Russia, the salt of this country, this must end!

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