The Green Mile

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A SONG BEGINS, distant as a faded memory on an old Victrola:

Once I built a railroad, made it run... Made it race against

time...Once I built a railroad, now it's done...Brother, can

you spare a dime...

Opening credit sequence

plays against footage of the Great Depression, images

haunting and sepia-toned, defining an era. The bread

lines...the soup kitchens...the dust bowl refugees heading

west with their possessions on their backs and no hope in

their eyes...the strutting gangster royalty flaunting their

bootleg riches...an entire generation of lost youth riding

the rials...the U.S. army troops raining truncheon blows on

the half-starved and forgotten veterans of World War One as

"Hooverville" is set afire in the very shadow of the nation's

capitol...

All these faces, all these lives, in a world not really so

very long ago...

EXT. FIELD - DAY(SLOW MOTION)

...where cattails sway in the sepia-toned heat. A small scrap

of fabric is snagged in the nettles, fluttering languidly...

COLOR BLEEDS SLOWLY IN as mosquitoes swarm and dragonflies

skitter, showing the fabric scrap to be pale yellow...

Suddenly, a MAN WITH A SHOTGUN comes crashing through the

cattails, wiping through frame and exiting...

...then ANOTHER MAN...and ANOTHER...armed with rifles,

plowing through the brush, exiting frame...

...and now comes KLAUS DETTERICK, a farmer one step above

shirt-tail poor, a double-barrel shotgun in the crook of his

arm. He pauses, horrified, seeing the scrap of cloth. He

pulls it loose, turns back, screaming something in anguish...

...and still more men come crashing into view, flooding by us

with dreamlike, slow-motion grace. ONE MAN is leading a team

of DOGS, trying to untangle the leads. DEPUTY ROB McGEE is

shouting for everybody to stay together...

...and under it all, we hear a sibilant, frightening whisper:

WHISPERING VOICE (V.O.)

You love your sister? You make any

noise, know what happens?

And off that horrible voice, we

CUT TO:

INT. GEORGIA PINES NURSING HOME - MORNING(PRESENT DAY)

A CLOCK RADIO spews the morning weather report, abruptly

pulling us into the present with a prediction of rain. PAUL

EDGECOMB, late 70's/early 80's, wakes to another day...

INT. PAUL'S ROOM - MORNING

Paul stands at his bathroom mirror, meticulously buttoning

his shirt. He picks up a hairbrush, starts tidying his hair...

INT. CORRIDOR - MORNING

THE OLD AND INFIRM haunt these corridors like ghosts. A WOMAN

inches along on a walker. A MAN shuffles by with a rolling

I.V. stand. The floor is a limey, institutional green.

Paul comes into view, spry for his age, murmurs an occasional

greeting.

INT. BREAKFAST ROOM - MORNING

DOZENS OF RETIREES are having breakfast, sipping weak coffee

or tea. Some chat and gossip, other are content to keep their

own company, some just stare slackly into space.

Paul enters, sees ELAINE CONNELLY sitting with a few other

ladies, sipping tea. She's 80, refined and elegant, his best

friend here. She gives him a good-morning smile. He gives her

a rakish wink in return, which makes her smiles all the more.

Paul reaches past the people at the counter and sneaks two

pieces of cold leftover toast off a serving plate. He tosses

Elaine another look--catch ya later--and exits.

INT. HALLWAY PAST KITCHEN - MORNING

Paul slips to the back door unnoticed. Identical red plastic

rain ponchos line the wall on pegs. He helps himself to one

and eases outside, making good his escape.

EXT. NURSING HOME - ESTABLISHING - MORNING

Nestled in a valley of wooded hills, a drizzly mist rolling

over the treetops.

Paul appears f.g., coming up the ridge in his borrowed

poncho. He looks back at the valley below, inhales deeply--

this is a man who loves his walks.

He pulls a piece of toast from his pocket and starts to

nibble as he presses up on the ridge...

Low angle:
nursing home and ridge beyond

...and we see Paul from a distance, just a speck trudging up

toward the treeline. A PICKUP TRUCK rumbles into frame and

parks, a bumper sticker looming large: "I Have Seen God and

His Name Is Newt Gingrich".

BRAD DOLAN gets out, an orderly in his late 20's/early 30's,

arriving for work in jeans and cheesy plaid shirt. He gazes

up toward the ridge, scowling and muttering softly:

BRAD:

Old f***.

He slams the door and heads for the nursing home...

EXT. WOODS - MORNING

...as CAMERA BOOMS DOWN through the trees to find Paul

wandering a wooded path, munching a tidbit of toast, looking

for all the world like Red Riding Hood in his plastic poncho.

It's silent here, like a church. The only sounds we hear are

the twittering of the birds and the hammering of the

woodpecker.

A RUSTLING SOUND makes Paul freeze. He turns, becomes

transfixed. Softly:

PAUL:

Oh, my...

Reverse angle

reveals a magnificent BUCK, not twenty feet away, misty

breath punching the cold morning air. They watch each other

for an endless moment, both standing stock still...

...and then the animal bounds away, vanishing into the

foliage. Paul lets out a breath, shakes his head in wonder.

He takes another bite of toast, moves on...

...and WE PAN WITH HIM to reveal a pair of old wooden storage

shacks along the path up ahead.

INT. SHACK - MORNING

Dark in here, cobwebby and decrepit. We see Paul approaching

outside the grimy window. He steps up to the glass and shades

his eyes, peering curiously in as we

DISSOLVE TO:

EXT. NURSING HOME - DAY

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