And he, too, is carried with the flow into the lobby. Debris
everywhere. Szpilman fights to get to the main door, when
another bomb explodes, filling the air with dust and debris,
obscuring him and everyone else.
INT. WARSAW APARTMENT - DUSK
The Szpilman family in panic: coming and going out of rooms,
packing clothes and belongings into open suitcases and a
trunk in a comfortable, tastefully furnished bourgeois
apartment, the living room lined with books, paintings and
boasting a boudoir grand, silver platters and candlesticks.
The family consist of MOTHER, in a state of great anxiety,
FATHER, REGINA, twenty-six, HALINA, twenty-two, and HENRYK,
twenty-four, the only one not in movement. He sits by the
radio set, ear to the speaker, trying to tune to a station.
No bombs now, just the distant sound of artillery fire.
Father, holding a silver-framed photograph, crosses to
What you think, should I take Uncle
Take it, don't take it, take what
you like. Can't you see I'm worried
He'll come home, he'll be all right.
He goes into his room. She can barely control her tears
and hurries into the kitchen just as the front door opens
and Szpilman enters, looks round bemused by the activity.