The Truman Show Page #7

Stepping blindly into the street, he tries to hail a taxi.

A vacant cab suddenly switches off its "FOR HIRE" light as he

reaches it. Truman pleads with the TAXI DRIVER through the

closed windows and locked doors of the cab but the driver is

apparently oblivious to Truman's shouts.

Frantic, Truman, dashes into a nearby parking structure and

grabs a bunch of car keys from the key rack of the unsupervised

parking attendant's kiosk. Running along the rows of parked

cars, Truman desperately presses the car security buttons

attached to the key rings

A car alarm chirps and Truman turns in time to see the car's

winking sidelights. He jumps inside a brand new BMW and guns

the car. The PARKING ATTENDANT, alerted by the squealing tires,

appears from the Men's Room and attempts to wave Truman down.

ATTENDANT:

(running after the car)

Hey!

Truman ignores the attendant and accelerates into the street

without looking, causing a taxi and a postal van to take

evasive action.

Catching sight of the bus in the distance, Truman leans on the

car's horn as he recklessly weaves past other motorists. He is

only a couple of car-lengths from the bus.

TRUMAN:

(reading aloud, the

ID number of the bus)

Two, four, oh, six.

Suddenly the taxis and cars directly in front of him start to

slow for no apparent reason. Truman looks for a way around

but the cars crab across the street, blocking any passage,

working together almost as if they are running interference.

TRUMAN:

(shouting at the cars)

Outta the way! Outta the way!

The bus is escaping.

Truman suddenly jumps the sidewalk in the car, scattering

PEDESTRIANS.

The same cars on the street that seemed intent on slowing his

progress suddenly accelerate in unison, anticipating his move.

By the time Truman reaches the end of the sidewalk, the cars are

clustered together on the corner in an impenetrable jam. Truman

spies the bus turn the corner at the far end of the street and

disappear from view.

Fumbling with the gear stick. he finally finds reverse but turns

to find a hostile group of PEDESTRIANS herded tightly together

behind the car, leaving Truman with nowhere left to go.

The car door is suddenly jerked open and the out-of-breath

PARKING ATTENDANT yanks Truman from the driver's seat.

ATTENDANT:

What the f*** are you trying to pull?!

TRUMAN:

(cowering, the fight instantly

gone out of him)

I'm sorry! I'm sorry! No harm done!

No harm done!

ATTENDANT:

(feverishly inspecting the

fenders for dents, he finds none)

I oughta f*** you up!

The Attendant looks into Truman's terrified eyes. They get

the better of him.

ATTENDANT:

Get the f*** outta here.

The Attendant shoves Truman's briefcase into his arms and

brushes him aside. As he departs, Truman notices that the

traffic jam in the street and the mysterious crowd of

pedestrians has dissolved.

EXT. BUS DEPOT. DAY.

Row after row of parked buses. TRUMAN and MARLON exit an

administration office. Instead of heading for the exit, Truman

begins marching down the first row of buses, inspecting the

number painted on the rear of each one.

MARLON:

What're you doing?

(gesturing to the office)

The man told you there's no such bus.

TRUMAN:

He's lying. Two, four, oh, six was

definitely the number.

Marlon stops walking. Truman continues his inspection. Seeing

there is no reasoning with him, Marlon hurries to catch him up.

TRUMAN:

I never believed he was dead.

MARLON:

(trying to be patient)

C'mon, Truman, a lotta times they don't find

a body. You know what the currents are like

in that water.

TRUMAN:

(shudders, a memory

flashing in his head)

You had to see his face when that wave hit.

He wasn't scared Marion. It was like he

was expecting it, waiting for it. He

knew it was coming.

MARLON:

Why would he fake it?

(trying to make light)

He's not Elvis Presley.

TRUMAN:

(ignoring the joke, pondering

the morning's events)

You know what was really strange about today?

An old woman with a little dog and a

businessman, walking in opposite directions

on the sidewalk, both react like clockwork.

They force him onto a bus against his will,

a bus that doesn't normally stop outside

my building. And when I'm giving chase, the

bus never makes another stop and I get the

feeling that the traffic and the pedestrians

are working together to make sure I never

catch up with it.

MARLON:

(sarcastic)

Oh, so now it's also the pedestrians and

the buses and the cars? What are you

saying, the entire population of Lower

Manhattan is conspiring to stop you finding

out that your father staged his death to

pursue a life as a street person? Oh yeah,

that makes sense.

Truman has no answer. We see an aerial shot of Truman and

Marlon on a television screen, continuing to check the rows of

buses, Marlon still marveling at Truman's obstinance. They

have come to the last bus in the final row. Truman hangs his

head. The offending bus is not amongst them. He makes towards

the exit without comment and Marlon follows.

Unseen by the pair, we focus on the ID number on one of the

buses they have previously checked - "2400". A single drip of

black paint trickles off the last freshly painted digit.

EXT. MANHATTAN STREET. DAY.

TRUMAN and MARLON, drinking beer, sit in the rear doorway of

Marion's delivery van, wholesale-sized boxes of candy stacked

behind them.

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