The Manchurian Candidate

FADE IN:

2 EXT. DESERT - NIGHT 2

PROWLING ACROSS undulating land dotted with BURNING OIL

WELLS that give the vague impression of, well, hell. The

inky sky is awash with stars.

ON THE CREST OF A DUNE

A U.S. ARMY BRADLEY FIGHTING VEHICLE and matching HUMMER

sit, waiting.

KUWAIT, 1991

Muffled THUMP of rap music thrums from the Bradley, and low

voices stray from the open doors of the Hummer.

MARCO (O.S.)

Why can’t we go directly in ...

3 INT./EXT. THE HUMMER - NIGHT 3

A topographical MAP glows on the LCD screen of a laptop

portable, faintly lighting the faces of CAPT. BEN MARCO and

his big, gentle, French guide, LAURENT TOKAR.

MARCO:

(pointing)

... this way --?

LAURENT:

Yes, well -- I see the Captain enjoys the

road less travelled.

Marco is seemingly unflappable, completely engaged by life.

MARCO:

The Captain enjoys not dragging his ass

down the highway for every Tom, Dick and

Qadhafi to take a whack at.

Laurent swings his finger on the arc of approach.

8/18/03 2.

LAURENT:

Well. Of course it is very bad, here.

And here. And here, here, here, here --

MARCO:

Mines?

LAURENT:

Tricky. Swedish-made.

MARCO:

Dammit.

He refers to some satellite surveillance maps --

MARCO:

Nobody at Command said anything about --

LAURENT:

Exxon and Global Petroleum hired private

contractors to do the work in ’86, as

part of their asset security program.

(beat)

Hired an Iraqi firm, in fact, who, now,

well -- only they know where the little

Nordic f***ers are planted.

MARCO:

(turns away)

Sgt. Shaw!

No response.

And we RUSH TOWARD: A SOLDIER IN A LAWN CHAIR, face lifted

to the heavens, sitting directly between the two armored

vehicles. This is SGT. RAYMOND PRENTISS SHAW, late

twenties, haunted and aloof.

MARCO:

(suddenly behind him)

Sergeant.

RAYMOND:

Sir.

MARCO:

Rolling in two minutes.

RAYMOND:

Yes sir.

Beat.

MARCO:

Everything okay?

8/18/03 3.

RAYMOND:

Yes, Captain. Everything’s fine.

(standing up)

I’ll "rally" the troops.

Here.

4 INT. THE BRADLEY FIGHTING VEHICLE - NIGHT 4

MUSIC blares around eight soldiers, including wiseguy PFC.

ED MAVOLE, crowded into space designed for four --

MAVOLE:

Yo Melvin. You gonna play that hand, or

hatch it?

-- CPL. AL MELVIN grunts, then they all look up, almost in

unison, at Raymond when he swings open the back door. PFC.

BOBBY BAKER, a slender man, barely eighteen, a driver,

ejects a CD from the onboard stereo. Silence.

RAYMOND:

We’re moving out.

5

Beat. He shuts the door again.

EXT. THE BRADLEY - NIGHT 5

Raymond waits. Another beat.

inside the vehicle.

Then some LAUGHTER from

He shifts his shoulders, walks back into the darkness.

6 OMITTED 6

7 OMITTED 7

8 INT. HUMMER - NIGHT - TRAVELLING 8

Marco, bug-like in night goggles, drives the infamous

Highway of Death -- a macabre landscape of abandoned cars,

trucks, minivans, shopping baskets, broken wooden pushcarts

and festering fires; pots and pans and clothes and personal

belongings are scattered out into the desert on either side

of the road. Laurent rides shotgun. Raymond is in the

back, facing forward, rifle at ease.

RAYMOND:

Captain?

MARCO:

Sergeant?

RAYMOND:

Why don’t I ever ride in the Bradley with

the other enlisted personnel?

8/18/03 4.

MARCO:

(hesitates)

Maybe I enjoy your company, Sergeant.

RAYMOND:

Sir, I don’t want to be singled out for

special treatment because of my mother’s

position --

MARCO:

Too late for that, Shaw. As a charter

member of the Lucky Sperm Club your

benefits include unlimited suck-up from

High-ranking Officers hoping to curry

Congressional favor for their future

career moves. But. If you want to ride

in the Bradley, hey, I got no objections.

RAYMOND:

(worried)

Trust me, sir, I don’t wish to ride in

the Bradley with the others, I’m just ...

(beat)

The men don’t care for me very much.

MARCO:

No, they don’t. But. On the plus side,

you don’t really like them, either.

RAYMOND:

That’s absolutely correct, Captain.

So. See?

MARCO:

It, you know. Balances out.

-- Uh-oh.

LAURENT:

Marco follows Laurent’s gaze out the side window --

9 NIGHT VISION GOGGLES: JUST OVER A DUNE 9

SOLDIERS ON CAMELS slip along like ghosts, pacing the

Hummer, parallel at maybe fifty yards --

WHIP PAN:

Through the driver’s side window: more of the CAMEL CAVALRY

tracks with them --

Camels.

MARCO:

You gotta be kidding me.

10 BACK TO - HUMMER - MARCO 10

glancing to his rear-view mirror --

8/18/03 5.

11 IN THE MIRROR - ON THE ROAD BEHIND THEM: 11

Two dark trucks converge suddenly out of the darkness, on

either side of the Bradley Fighting Vehicle --

They SLAM together in a pincer-wedge just in front of it,

and the Bradley CRASHES into them -- climbs over them, off-

balance, and SMASHES DOWN onto the roof of one of the trucks

and is effectively low-bridged -- tracks spinning, unable to

move -- DARK FIGURES scurry from the trucks.

12 THE HUMMER -- skids around in a tight 180, stops, facing

back at the helpless Bradley. Automatic weapons fire in

bursts, bright, and ricochet harmlessly away --

12

IN THE HUMMER -- MARCO scrambles up out of his seat, pops

the roof hatch and screams at Raymond --

MARCO:

Take the wheel, Sergeant!

13 EXT. HUMMER - NIGHT 13

-- as Marco emerges to take the handles of the roof-mounted

machine gun -- drops his NVGs back over his eyes and FIRES

at the dispersing enemy figures around the Bradley --

14 INT. BRADLEY FIGHTING VEHICLE - NIGHT 14

Marco’s cover fire RATTLES insanely off the armor --

MAVOLE:

(screaming)

LOCK AND LOAD! LOCK AND

LOAD!

BAKER:

(overlapping)

I CAN’T GET US OFF THIS

TRUCK!

MELVIN:

Quarter million dollars of U.S. Army

hardware rat-f***ed by a coupla used

Toyotas.

He grabs a fire extinguisher and aims it at flames flaring

from a console of instruments.

15 OMITTED 15

16 OMITTED 16

17 EXT. MARCO’S NIGHT VISION GOGGLES: THE DESERT 17

TRACER BULLETS. A lone enemy SOLDIER runs forward lugging a

personal rocket launcher -- disappears behind a dune --

18 MARCO -- coming off the machine gun, grabbing Raymond’s

rifle and rolling toward the back of the Hummer -- as he

kicks out of the rear door -18

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