The Last Samurai

FADE IN:

BRIGHT BLUE TIGER

Surrounded by a pack of dogs, ten of them snarling and

gnashing their teeth.

The TIGER'S, eyes burn with fury as he wheels in a circle,

lunging at one dog clawing at another, keeping them all at

bay.

Suddenly, the TIGER leaps over the dogs and transforms into

a WHITE BIRD, soaring majestically into the sky.

THE FACE OF A JAPANESE MAN

Sits up into frame, sweating, waking from a dream. He is

KATSUMOTO.

We will come to know him later.

Fade to black. CREDITS OVER.

The faint SOUND of a BRASS BAND.

WINCHESTER REP (V.O.)

...the leader in all forms of armament

used by the United States Army. When

you need a friend, Winchester is by

your side.

THE FACE OF AN AMERICAN MAN

As he smokes a cigar, barely listening. CAPTAIN NATHAN ALGREN,

U.S. Army, ret, 36 years old and looking every day of it.

His eyes are lined and saddened. He takes a swig from a flask.

He is BACKSTAGE at:

INT. CONVENTION HALL - SAN FRANCISCO - DAY

Where a trade show is in progress. Scantily clad lovelies in

red-white-and-blue undies demonstrate the nation's most

important new export: arms.

Every weapon imaginable is on display: rifles, pistols, even

howitzers. Banners declaim the virtues of Winchester and

Springfield. Of Colt and Remington and Smith & Wesson. Crowds

mill around a stage. where:

WINCHESTER REP:

Ladies and Gentlemen... the Winchester

Corporation is proud to bring to

you... a true American hero. A patriot

who has proven his gallantry time

and again on the field of battle.

LITTLE TIN SOLDIERS are all lined up. A mass of grey. Rebel

troops surrounding a band of blue Union cavalry. A large,

metal diorama.

WINCHESTER REP:

I hope you will join us in

welcoming... Late of the U.S. Cavalry.

The Savior of Sutter Hill... Captain

Nathan Algren!

A last swig. Algren steels himself, then strides onstage as

we reveal a banner:

WINCHESTER PRESENTS: THE MIRACLE AT SUTTER'S HILL!

Garish limelight from a row of foot lights illuminates Algren.

ALGREN:

My thanks, Mr. McCabe. Ladies and

Gents.

He looks down at the little metal soldiers and begins to

tell the story of the battle that made him famous. His

narration is halting, unsteady:

ALGREN:

...On that fateful day, Johnny Reb

had us in a spot, perched on the

lonely top of Sutter's Hill, nothing

but grey as far as the eye could

see:
Unhorsed and out of ammunition,

I gazed down into the, um, mael...

mael...

(squints to see better)

-- maelstrom below us, and saw them

moving up.

We realize he is reading from cue cards. The little Rebel

soldiers begin sliding up the metal hill.

ALGREN:

I knew it was fight or die. Into the

teeth of the enemy or we would all

be buried... buried...

(loses his place,

under his breath)

Sh*t...

(finds it again)

...on the same hill with our comrades

already gone to Merciful Heaven...

A SUDDEN FLASH:

Algren's mind. The real battle of Sutter's Hill. The grim

reality is very different from the dashing tale. Union

soldiers scream in agony. Those horses still alive buck and

froth at their tether.

Algren, a lieutenant then, moves among the panicked, bloody

men. He stops beside a PRIVATE, his brother, DAVID ALGREN,

19, blonde, not much more than a boy.

DAVEY:

They're coming, Nate.

He looks over the wall. Rebel troops are moving up the hill.

ALGREN:

Keep your head down.

DAVEY:

(smiling)

Papa always said we should've joined

the navy.

ALGREN:

What'd he know?

(looks fondly at his

brother)

You watch me now. Do whatever I say...

DAVEY:

Aye-aye, lieutenant.

Algren punches his shoulder and moves on down the line.

Nearby, Algren's friend, SERGEANT ZEBULAH GANT, though

severely wounded, reloads his revolver with the last of his

ammunition.

GANT:

How're the horses?

ALGREN:

Better than you. Smell better, too.

(looks at him)

Can you hold on, Zeb?

GANT:

(fighting the pain)

I got I choice?

Algren smiles sadly. His mend will die loon without medical

attention.

Algren moves down the line, bullets whizzing overhead. He

kneels beside COLONEL BAGLEY, his commanding officer.

BAGLEY:

(panicking)

We need a flag. Find me a goddamn

white flag!

ALGREN:

What are you talking about?!

BAGLEY:

Surrender, damn it! That's an order!

BACK TO THE CONVENTION HALL:

ALGREN:

No thought of surrender among those

boys. Better to die as God made us,

we thought, as soldiers... So I gave

the order. Mister Bugler, sound mount

up. Mister Bugler, sound prepare

arms. There were only thirty of us,

but we had fire in us yet. I looked

down the hill at the destiny ordained

for us. And gave the order. Mister

Bugler, charge!

The little Union cavalry soldiers begin moving down slots in

the hill.

ON SUTTER'S HILL:

Algren leads a chaotic cavalry charge down the hill toward

the advancing rebel infantry -- artillery explosions --

bullets snapping, trees shattering.

Algren's brother, Davey, rides beside him.

The wounded Sergeant Gant pulls himself up, waves his cap

and yells.

Bagley remains cowering behind the stone wall.

BACK TO THE CONVENTION HALL:

ALGREN:

And straight into them we went...

ON SUTTER'S HILL:

Carnage. Union and Confederate soldiers slam together,

falling, drowning in mud and blood, stepped on by panicked

horses.

Algren wields his saber in one hand and his revolver in the

other, serving death on all sides.

A soldier riding next to Davey is shot. A horse falls into a

shellhole.

BACK TO THE CONVENTION HALL:

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