The Truman Show Page #17

MERYL:

(dispassionate)

Rape on the subway.

Truman's eyes widen. We see a quick flashback in Truman's head

of the two YOUTHS assaulting the WOMAN on his train.

MERYL:

They're guilty as hell but they'll walk. No

witnesses. Her word against theirs.

(picking up her bag to leave)

Maybe we could meet for lunch today.

Meryl gives him an affectionate kiss and exits the back door.

Truman waits for the sound of Meryl's car to disappear down the

road and exits himself.

INT. COURT BUILDING. MORNING.

TRUMAN enters the courtroom building. A crush of DEFENDENTS,

FAMILIES, ATTORNEYS and POLICE OFFICERS. Truman goes to enter

a courtroom but a SECURITY GUARD blocks his path.

SECURITY GUARD:

You a witness?

TRUMAN:

Er, yes...

(suddenly losing heart)

No, no I'm not.

SECURITY GUARD:

Closed session.

Before the guard can move him on. Truman sneaks a look at

proceedings through the courtroom door window.

He recognizes the two YOUTHS sitting at the defendent's table.

A PROSECUTOR is on his feet, addressing the JURY. MERYL is

working attentively at her stenotype machine, her fingers

rapidly pressing the keys. However, Truman notices a glaring

omission. There is no paper emerging from Meryl's machine. The

roll of paper tape sits on the floor beside her chair leg.

INT. TRAVEL AGENCY. DAY.

The EMPLOYEES and CUSTOMERS inside GLOBAL TRAVEL are all doing

a last-minute primp, fixing their hair and checking their

clothes. Suddenly, in unison, they take their positions and

begin working. As TRUMAN enters GLOBAL TRAVEL, one CUSTOMER

looks up a fraction too quickly, anticipating his arrival.

Truman takes a seat at the only unoccupied desk, opposite a

female TRAVEL AGENT. Feeling uneasy about a surveillance camera

in the corner of the room, he nervously obscures his face with

his hand.

TRUMAN:

I wanna book a flight to Australia.

AGENT:

Where exactly?

TRUMAN:

(believing she is being

deliberately obtuse)

Australia.

AGENT:

(a trace of condescension)

Where in Australia? What city?

TRUMAN:

Sorry, Sydney. Sydney, Australia. That's right.

AGENT:

(entering the destination in her

computer)

For how many?

TRUMAN:

(finding the question suspicious)

One.

AGENT:

When do you want to leave, remembering, of

course, that you do lose a day on the way there?

TRUMAN:

(more urgent than he intended)

Today.

AGENT:

(reading off her computer screen)

I'm sorry. I don't have anything for a

week.

TRUMAN:

(suspicious)

A week.

AGENT:

(patiently explaining)

It's the busy season.

TRUMAN:

(paranoia showing)

You sure you're not trying to keep me here?

You are a travel agent, aren't you? Your

job is to help people travel, not keep 'em

where they are.

(pointing to the agent's

name tag, "DORIS - Travel Agent")

Or maybe you're a different kind of agent, Doris?

AGENT:

(showing amazing restraint)

I do have a fabulous rate on a cruise ship

departing for Australia tomorrow. But you

wouldn't want to do that.

TRUMAN:

Why wouldn't I?

AGENT:

I thought you were in a hurry.

TRUMAN:

(calming down)

That's right.

AGENT:

You want to book the flight?

Truman pulls out a wad of money from his pocket and several

rolls of quarters from Marlon's vending machines. The agent

looks askance at the pile of cash.

TRUMAN:

You were expecting me, weren't you?

The travel agent ignores the question and prints the ticket.

AGENT:

It's non-refundable.

EXT. SYDNEY, AUSTRALIA. DAY.

CHRISTOF stands with a PRODUCTION MANAGER, mid-thirties, on the

forecourt of the Sydney Opera House, its sail-like roofs soaring

above them. Framing the background, the coathanger-shaped

Sydney Harbor Bridge.

PROD. MANAGER

(unable to conceal his pride)

Happy?

Christof gives a grudgingly complimentary nod.

CHRISTOF:

(staring out at the pleasure

craft littering the harbor)

Can we contain him long enough?

PROD. MANAGER

I think so.

Christof looks skyward at the cottonwool clouds above the

harbor.

PROD. MANAGER

(anticipating his next question)

He flies at night. Thick cloud cover to

disorient him. Hopefully we'll knock him

out with complimentary cocktails, pull the

shades down during the movies. He'll never know.

Christof gives another grudging nod of approval. The Production

Manager is beckoned by a group of CONSTRUCTION WORKERS who are

putting the finishing touches to a corner of the Opera House.

CHLOE drifts to Christof's side, a Watchman TV in her hand.

CHLOE:

(referring to the surrounding scene)

Why go to all the trouble?

Christof glances at the TV screen in her hand, showing TRUMAN

sitting in his office gazing at his composite picture of SYLVIA.

CHRISTOF:

He believes she has the answer.

CHLOE:

Why not just tell him she's dead?

CHRISTOF:

It's too late for that. That won't satisfy

him. He's going to have to find out for himself.

See it with his own eyes. Right now he needs

something genuine.

(rueful, all too aware

of the contradiction)

Even if we have to fake it.

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