Rushmore

INT. CLASSROOM DAY

A private day school. Twenty 10th grade boys are sitting in

desks in geometry class. They are dressed in school uniform,

light blue shirts and khakis. The boys look dazed and

sleepy.

The teacher, MR. ADAMS, is at the front of the room,

finishing a complicated equation on the chalkboard.

MR. ADAMS

Except when the value of the x coordinate is less than or

equal to the value of the -- Yes, Isaac?

A boy named ISAAC has raised his hand

ISAAC:

What about that problem?

Isaac points to a startling and intricate arrangement of

huge numbers and strange symbols filling up a forgotten

corner of the chalkboard. The heading above it says Extra

Credit.

MR. ADAMS

Oh, I really just put that up there as a joke. That's

probably the hardest geometry problem in the world.

ISAAC:

How much extra credit is it worth?

MR. ADAMS

Well, I've never seen anyone get it right before, including

my mentor, Dr. Leaky at MIT. So I guess if anyone here can

do it,

(pause)I'd see to it that none of you ever have to open

another math book again for the rest of your lives.

There is some quite murmuring. The name Fischer is repeated

over and over. The boys begin to look to a student in the

back row.

Unlike his classmates, he wears the Rushmore school blazer

with insignia on the breast pocket and a Rushmore rep tie

knotted tightly. His hair is smartly parted and swept back.

He is extremely skinny and pale. He is MAX FISCHER.

Max has a cup of coffee on his desk and he is reading the

Wall Street Journal.

MR. ADAMS

Max ? You want to try it ?

Max looks up.

MAX:

I'm sorry. Did someone say my name?

Everyone laughs. Max smiles slightly. He buttons his blazer

and straightens his tie. He picks up his cup of coffee and

takes a sip. He goes to the chalkboard and sets to work.

The boys watch with nervous anticipation. Mr. Adams compares

Max's progress with e notes in his book. Max's equations

quickly fills up most of the chalkboard. He finishes it with

a flourish, throws his piece of chalk in the trash, and

turns to face the

class.

Everyone looks to Mr. Adams. Mr. Adams raises an eyebrow. He

nods.

The classroom erupts into wild, ecstatic applause. Everyone

surrounds Max, cheering, as he walks calmly back to his

desk. They hoist him into the air.

CUT TO:

Max with his eyes closed, smiling serenely, listening to the

applause. He mutters:

MAX:

Gentlemen, gentlemen, please.

A little hand grabs Max's arm and shakes him. Max opens his

eyes. The person shaking him is his chapel partner, DIRK

CALLOWAY, a fourth grader with neatly white hair. Max looks

around.

They are in chapel, surrounded by rows of boys in school

uniforms. Dirk puts his finger to his lips.

DIRK:

Shh.

Max rubs his eyes and sits up in the pew. The applause dies

down and Max looks to the pulpit as the guest chapel

speaker, HERMAN BLUME, steps up to the microphone.

Mr. Blume is a tough looking guy about fifty years old in a

black suit. He begins his chapel speech.

MR. BLUME

You guys have it real easy. I never had it like this where I

grew up. But I send my kids here. Because, the fact is,

whether you deserve it or not: you go to one of the best

schools in the country.

Max's eyes light's up.

MR. BLUME

Rushmore. You lucked out.

Max leans forward to the railing and begins to listen

intently.

MR. BLUME

Now, for some of you it doesn't matter. You were born rich,

and you're going to stay rich. But here's my advice to the

rest of you:
take dead aim on the rich boys. Get them in the

crosshairs. And take them down.

Some of the students and faculty begin to look at each other

with puzzled expressions. Max is nodding and taking notes on

the flypage of a hymnal.

INSERT HYMNAL:

Rushmore -- best school in country.

rich kids -- bad?

MR. BLUME

Just remember:
they can buy anything. But they can't buy

backbone. Don't let them forget that. Thank you.

Mr. Blume leaves the podium. Max leaps to his feet and leads

the applause. The organ starts and everyone stands up.

EXT. QUADRANGLE DAY

Mr. Blume and the headmaster, DR. GUGGENHEIM, come out of

the chapel among the throng of students.

Dr. Guggenheim wears a wool coat and smokes a pipe. He is

very dashing with silver hair and a warmly patronizing

manner. He walks with his hands clasped behind his back.

Two Jack Russell terriers follow quickly at his heels.

DR. GUGGENHEIN

Are you free for graduation, Herman? Maybe you could give us

an encore. (whistles to the dogs) Nicholas! Copernicus!

MR. BLUME

(lighting a cigarette)

I don't give a sh*t. I paid for the whole damn natatorium.

The least these little pricks can do is hear me out.

MAX:

Mr. Blume.

Max has appeared beside them. Dirk tags along behind him.

MAX:

My name's Max Fischer. I just wanted to tell you, I strongly

agree with your views concerning Rushmore.

MR. BLUME

You don't say. Tell me something. How long have you gone

here?

MAX:

Ten years.

MR. BLUME

Then you've been living in a dreamworld for ten years.

MAX:

I know it, sir.

Max smiles broadly. They each notice that their haircuts are

identical, neatly parted on the side.

MAX:

Your speech was excellent. Except I disagree with your ideas

about rich kids. Because. After all, we don't choose who our

fathers are. But that's really my only criticism.

MR. BLUME

(hesitates) Thank you.

Mr. Blume looks at Dirk staring up at him. Dirk says softly:

DIRK:

Hello.

MAX:

This is my chapel partner, Dirk Calloway.

MR. BLUME

(shakes Dirk's hand) Nice to meet you, Dirk.

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