Michael Clayton Page #7

JERRY:

Couldn’t hurt.

MICHAEL:

I’ll have somebody call you.

JERRY nods. Okay. But lingering a moment, because --

JERRY:

So, Michael, look, I was thinking ofyou last week. My cousin Frank, fromBrooklyn Kings, right? He’s out in

Nassau now. They got an opening onthe probate bench. He’s kind of goingfor it.

MICHAEL:

That’s a tough crowd.

JERRY:

No sh*t. Can I have him call you?

Sure.

MICHAEL:

JERRY:

And don’t worry about this...

(re:
Mr. Greer)

I’ll put my back into it.

MICHAEL nods. Heading for the car and --

EXT. MANSION DRIVEWAY/COUNTRY ROAD -- NIGHT

THE MERCEDES speeding away from the house --

INT. THE MERCEDES -- NIGHT

MICHAEL driving. Escaping. Running from more than Mr. Greer

and Jerry Dante. More than just a bad night boiling behind

his eyes. Driving hard and wild. Turning suddenly and -EXT.

WESTCHESTER COUNTRY ROAD -- NIGHT

THE MERCEDES racing along.

INT. THE MERCEDES -- NIGHT/PRE-DAWN

MICHAEL -- turning again -- aimless -- windows open -cold

air whipping through -- braking suddenly -- impulsive

-- turning -- suddenly -- faster now and --

EXT. NEW COUNTRY ROAD -- PRE-DAWN

First light. A smaller road. THE MERCEDES speeding past

large estates tucked back in the fog and deep woods.

EXT. THE FIELD -- DAWN

A HUGE OPEN PASTURE. Surrounded by forest. The sun just

starting to rise. Cold mist hanging over the whole valley.

Nothing but gray and green. Stark. Perfect.

THE MERCEDES speeding toward us -- climbing around the turn --

eating up the valley road that runs along the pasture -- but

suddenly the car is slowing -- braking hard and --

INT. THE MERCEDES -- DAWN

MICHAEL pulling to a stop. Staring out the window.

EXT. THE FIELD -- DAWN

MICHAEL getting out of the car. Standing there.

THREE HORSES poised at the crest of the pasture. Hanging

there in the fog like ghosts.

MICHAEL jumping the fence. Walking slowly into the field.

Behind him, the MERCEDES with the engine running.

THE HORSES aware of him now. Watching him come.

MICHAEL’S FACE as he walks. And later on we’ll understand

all the forces roiling inside him, but for the moment, thesimplest thing to say is that this is a man who needs more

than anything to see one pure, natural thing, and by somemiracle has found his way to this place. The wet grass andcold air and no coat -- none of it makes any difference tohim right now -- he’s a pilgrim stumbling into the cathedral.

And he stops. Just standing there. Empty. Open. Lost.

Nothing but the field and the fog and the woods beyond.

THE HORSES staring at him.

MICHAEL staring back. And just like that...

THE MERCEDES EXPLODES!

THE HORSES already running before MICHAEL can turn back --

pieces of the car that have been blown into the sky stillraining down before he’s fully grasped what’s happening --

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