The Manchurian Candidate
PROWLING ACROSS undulating land dotted with BURNING OIL
WELLS that give the vague impression of, well, hell. The
inky sky is awash with stars.
A U.S. ARMY BRADLEY FIGHTING VEHICLE and matching HUMMER
Muffled THUMP of rap music thrums from the Bradley, and low
voices stray from the open doors of the Hummer.
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.
... this way --?
Yes, well -- I see the Captain enjoys the
road less travelled.
Marco is seemingly unflappable, completely engaged by life.
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.
Well. Of course it is very bad, here.
And here. And here, here, here, here --
He refers to some satellite surveillance maps --
Nobody at Command said anything about --
Exxon and Global Petroleum hired private
contractors to do the work in ’86, as
part of their asset security program.
Hired an Iraqi firm, in fact, who, now,
well -- only they know where the little
Nordic f***ers are planted.
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.
(suddenly behind him)
Rolling in two minutes.
Yes, Captain. Everything’s fine.
I’ll "rally" the troops.
4 INT. THE BRADLEY FIGHTING VEHICLE - NIGHT 4
MUSIC blares around eight soldiers, including wiseguy PFC.
ED MAVOLE, crowded into space designed for four --
Yo Melvin. You gonna play that hand, or
-- 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.
We’re moving out.
Beat. He shuts the door again.
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.
Why don’t I ever ride in the Bradley with
Maybe I enjoy your company, Sergeant.
Sir, I don’t want to be singled out for
special treatment because of my mother’s
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.
Trust me, sir, I don’t wish to ride in
the Bradley with the others, I’m just ...
The men don’t care for me very much.
No, they don’t. But. On the plus side,
you don’t really like them, either.
That’s absolutely correct, Captain.
It, you know. Balances out.
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 --
Through the driver’s side window: more of the CAMEL CAVALRY
tracks with them --
10 BACK TO - HUMMER - MARCO 10
glancing to his rear-view mirror --Rate this script:4.0 / 1 vote
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"The Manchurian Candidate" Scripts.com. STANDS4 LLC, 2023. Web. 24 Mar. 2023. <https://www.scripts.com/script/the_manchurian_candidate_494>.
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