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    Scree nplay by

   Steven 2ai11Ian

Based on t he Book by

    Olive r Sac ks

                        OCTOBER 2, 1989
                        REV .10/1 3/89
                        REV.1 0/16/ 89   (PINK)
                        REV.1 0/25/ 89   (YELLOW)
                        REV.1 1/6/8 9    (GREEN)
                        REV.1 1/10/ 89   (GOLDENROD
                        REV .11/1 4/89   (SALMON)
                        REV .11/1 6/89   (LAVENDER)
                        REV .11/2 2/89   (CHERRY)
                        REV .12/4 /89    (WHITE)
                        REV.1 2/5/8 9    (BLUE)
                        REV.1 2/12/ 89   (PINK)
                        REV .12/ 13/89   (YELLOW)
                        REV. 1,2/15/89   (GREEN)

 1. A dusty deserted street - saloon, livery stable, sunset.
 Only there is something unsettling about it all. The colors
 are too muted and the angles not quite in perspective. Pulling
slowly back eventually reveals the edges of a narrow wooden
picture frame ...

Drifting away from the painting and slowly across a room.
Across Venetian blinds, open, letting in moonlight, across
intricate handmade wooden models, dime novels and comic books,
across the arm of a metronome gently slapping back and forth,
and settling finally on a small hand writing slowly and
deliberately, over and over, in synchronization, it seems, to
the rhythm of the metronome, the word, " L E O N A R D . "

The pendulum of a clock. An adult hand placing a bowl of
cereal on a table. Leonard, ten or eleven, waits a moment for
the adult to leave, grasps his spoon, and manipulates it from
bowl to mouth in time with the soft regular rhythm of the

3.   EXT. STREET - NEW YORK - MORNING - 1930                      3.
Schoolbooks slung over their shoulders, Leonard and another boy
his age, a classmate, move along a street.
All around them are "visual rhythms" - lines in the sidewalk,
the even placement of trees, the sunlight breaking through the
branches above them - and somewhere unseen, the rhythmic
pounding of an elevator train.
As they climb a fence, a pocket watch, Leonard's, falls to the

4.   INT. CLASSROOM - DAY - 1930
An adult hand chalking the words of a poem on a blackboard.
Children at desks dutifully transcribing the lesson.
All but one. Leonard. Whose hands are trembling slightly and
whose paper is blank. There is a noticeable lack of rhythms.
A cold silence. The broken watch rests on his desk.
The boy from the train, glancing at Leonard, begins gently
tapping the end of his pen against his desk. Leonard, "guided"
by the cadence of his friend's tapping, begins to write.

(o   The teacher's hand at the blackboard hesitates. Distracted by     4.
     the rhythmic noise, he traces it to the offender and silences
     him with a look.
                            \      '
     Without the rhythm, and without, apparently, inner natural
     rhythms to replace it, Leonard's hand begins dragging the pen
     across the paper, forming vague scrawl, each word less defined
     than the last, until they begin melding together into what
     resembles nothing so much as a child's rendering of ocean
     The teacher resumes chalking on the board. The boy from the
     train begins tapping his pen again, and, "guided" again by the
     rhythm, Leonard is able to give definition to the "ocean
     waves," to form recognizable letters.and words.
     The teacher hesitates again and glares at the boy making the
     irritating noise. The boy stops tapping and Leonard's writing
     again becomes formless.

     5. INT. CLASSROOM.- LATER - DAY - 1930
     The finished poem on the blackboard. The sounds of children at
     play on the schoolyard. The teacher, alone in the classroom,

o    at his desk grading the penmanship lesson.
     He circles offending errors on the last page of the last
     composition book. He scribbles a grade opposite the student's
     name in a grade book. He notices the absence of a grade in
     Leonard's column.                         .
     Leonard's desk. The teacher locates the missing composition
     book buried under textbooks. He takes it back to his own desk,
     opens it, and stares curiously at the last lesson, the poem, or
     rather Leonard's illegible representation of it.
     He considers earlier lessons in the book. He begins to see in
     the script a pattern of deterioration. He reaches the last
     entry again and stares at the few recognizable words drowning
     In "the waves."
     6.   INT. LEONARD'S BEDROOM - DAY - 1930 - WINTER
     The painting on the wall. The intricate wooden models and dime
     novels. The Venetian blinds, closed, shutting out sunlight.
     Voices, barely audible, from somewhere else in the house:
                          BOY'S VOICE
                When can I see him?
                          WOMAN'S VOICE
                When he's well.

                                       REV.12/15/89 (GREEN)   Pg.3

6.C0NT.              BOY'S VOICE                              6.CONT,
           When will he be well?
After a moment --
                     WOMAN'S VOICE
           I don't know.
-- and the sound of a door closing.
A small twisted hand lifts a slat of the Venetian blinds
revealing the snow-patched street below. Leonard's friend,
crossing it, glances back . . . then disappears around a corner.
And the small gnarled hand lets the slat slide down,
extinguishing the single ray of light.

                                             FADE TO BLACK

6A.   EXT. BAINBRIDGE -HOSPITAL - THE. BRONX - DAY - 1970 .        6A
Tight on the face of a man (SAYER), late thirties, glasses,
staring up at the face of a building, imposing in its
institutional dullness.

6B.    INT. LOBBY - BAINBRIDGE - DAY                               6B.
A dim, sleepy cavern of a lobby. No one but a switchboard
operator thumbing through a magazine. Echoing footsteps reach
her station and she glances up and at the man from outside.

He seems uncomfortable. Perhaps it's the suit. Or the place.
Or the situation. Or the hard straight-backed chair he's in.
When he does finally speak, it's with great sincerity --
           When you say people ... you mean
           living people,                 .
Behind an old oak desk, the hospital's Director glances over
to its Chief of Medicine, Dr. Kaufman, with a look that seems
to wonder, As opposed to what?
           Living people, yes.   Patients.

                                   REV.12/15/89 (GREEN)        Pg.4

 7.C0NT.                                                    7.
  There's some mistake. And Sayer's chair begins to feel more *
uncomfortable. He tries to clear up the confusion -
          I ' m here for the research                                 *
          position . . . in your neurology                            *
          Neurology lab?
He doesn't laugh at Sayer, just at the thought of it.
          We have an x-ray room.
Sayer tries to share the Director's amusement with a good- *
natured smile, but doesn't really understand it. Kaufman seems *
to have less time for this, and in plain English, unadorned -  *
         - The-position-ds-Staff-^Neurologist.            .
Sayer looks like a man who's just learned that everything he *
knows about the world is wrong.         f
          A doctor ... doctor.
The Director refers to stapled sheets of paper in his hands,
Sayer's resume.
          The Camel Institute. Tell me                                *
          about that, anything with patients                          *
          there? Or . . .                                             *
                (burying it)
The Director isn't sure he heard right.
          Sorry?                               ,
          It was an immense project. "
          I was trying to extract a decigram
          of myelin from four tons of

                                        REV.12/15/89 (GREEN)         Pg.5

     7.C0NT.              DIRECTOR                                          7.
               I was on it for five years.
               I was the only one who really
               believed in it. The rest of them
               said it couldn't be done.                         t

               It can't.
               Well, I know that now.       I proved
    The director offers a slow tentative nod before consulting the
    resume again.
               Maybe before. At Saint Thomas.
                    (Sayer is already
                     shaking his head no)
               All research. Earth - ?
               Pigs brains . . . they·re quite
               similar to human brains.
               Are they?
               Oh, yes . . . three years.
    As the Director retreats back to the resume, hoping against
    hope of finding in it something germane, Sayer glances away to
    a window. He wishes he were outside it. He has no business
    being here. He should leave.
               Excuse me, I made a mistake coming
               here. Clearly you're looking for
               someone with more of a clinical
    He stands up to leave. Kaufman stands to see him out.      But the       *
    director keeps searching the resume.


                                        REV.12/15/89 (GREEN)        Pg.6

7.C0NT.              SAYER                                      .    7.
           I've taken enough of your time.
           You must have a hundred applicants
           more suitable.
           Thanks anyway.
           Back in medical school ...
Kaufman shoots the Director a look that says, No, we're not
that desperate.
           I mean, you couldn't have
           graduated without some clinical
           experience. .
Sayer hesitates. And eventually manages sort of a shrug and a
n od .,            v'

           Well, there we are, doctor.
Kaufman can't believe it, but is sent back a look that says,
We have no choice. The Director gets up out of his chair, and,
smiling broadly, extends his hand to Sayer. Which unsettles
Sayer. Which in turn unsettles the Director.
                (not far from                 v
           You do want the job, don't you?
Sayer isn't so sure.   He thinks about it long and hard . . .

8.   INT. CORRIDOR   - BAINBRIDGE - DAY                                8.
Moving along a corridor crowded "with patients, some ambulatory,
some in wheelchairs, "living people" living with profound
neurological disease.
                     ANTHONY O.S.
           Spent much time in chronic
           hospitals, doctor?
A patient approaches, and, passing Sayer and the orderly who's
escorting him (ANTHONY), offers -
                     FEMALE PATIENT 1
           Hello. Hello. Hello. Hello . . .

                                   REV.12/15/89 (GREEN)               pg.7

8.C0NT.               ANTHONY                                          8.
                 (to Sayer)
           You'd remember.
           I guess not.
As they pass an old patient in a wheelchair -
           Hey, how you doing?
                 (calling to someone
                  down the hall)
           Dr. Sullivan.
Staying on the old patient, he eventually manages, too late -
                     OLD PATIENT
           Fn ...
Down the hall in an alcove, Dr. Sullivan glances up long
sufferingly from-a.patient~with'.an .Ouij a-board who !.s mumbling,          *
complaining, unintelligibly. Anthony and Sayer arrrive.
           Dr. Sullivan, this is Dr. Sayer;
                     ' ': : '                      '   -'.
 There's a kind a "deadness" in Sullivan's eyes and voice; he's
been here too long.
          Not the neurologist, that'd be
           asking too much. You're not the
           I think I am.
Sayer extends his hand. Instead of shaking it -
           Well, come on, Anthony, get him a
           coat for Christ's sake.
- Sullivan thrusts his clipboard into Sayer's hand.
9.   OMITTED                                                                9.
10. INT. DAYROOM (A) - DAY                                              10.
A woman in a wheelchair uttering high-pitched screams (FEMALE
PATIENT 2 ) . Sayer in a lab coat trying to calm her.

                                  REV.12/15/89 (GREEN)        Pg.7

10.CONT.            SAYER                .                    10.
          They're just pencils, pens.
He tries to prove it to her by removing one of them from the
pocket of his white coat. Screaming louder at the sight of it,
she tries to protect her face with her hands like a boxer being
beaten senseless.

11.   INT. DAYROOM (B) - DAY                                  11.
A man in his sixties confronts Sayer with an announcement in a
loud commanding voice -
                       MALE PATIENT 1
           X was born in I911f in
           Kinasbridae, New York. I came
           here in July of 1955. Prior to
           July of 1955. I resided a£ the
           Brooklyn Psychiatric Centerf
           Brooklyn. New York. Prior to
           thatP I was a person. And you.
           sir.- i Who the* hell >are.*v.ou?       .

12.   INT. DAYROOM (C) - DAY                                     12.
Stepping around a wheelchair, Sayer finds in it an elderly
woman, nicely dressed, her hair done-up, a ribbon in it.
Glancing at the chart in his hand -
           Mrs. Cohen?
                     MRS. COHEN
           He·s here?
She smiles, glances around. Sayer hesitates, uncertain who she
           I 'm here.
           To examine you.
                      MRS. COHEN
           Oh, no, I ' m leaving today. My
           son's coming to take me home.

(6   Confused, Sayer tries to find a discharge form among the papers
     on the clipboard. Unsuccessful, he excuses himself from her
     and crosses the room to a nurse.
                 Excuse me. Mrs. Cohen's son.
                 He's coming today?
                           NURSE 1
                 I wouldn't bet on it, he hasn't
                 for twenty years.
     The nurse turns away. Sayer crosses slowly back to Mrs. Cohen,
     trying to find the words to tell her. He doesn't have to; his
     discomfort does it. Her hand slowly reaches up and pulls the
     ribbon from her hair.
     13.    OMITTED                                    .

     Silence. Institutional beige walls. Glass cabinets, locked,
     containing medical instruments. A metal examination table with
     leather straps.
     Sayer alone at one of three old desks in the large room, still
     unsettled from the experience with Mrs. Cohen. Eventually, he
     gets up, crosses to a window and tries to open it.
     It's jammed shut, painted shut perhaps, but finally gives way,
     sliding up. He lets the air from outside wash over his face as
     he stares out absently at children on an elementary school
     playground beyond a debris-strewn field.
                           MISS COSTELLO O.S.
                      (a matter of fact)
                 It gets easier.
     Sayer turns to the voice, to Miss Costello, the hospital's head
     nurse, a veteran of this place, a woman who has seen it all.
     She's standing in the doorway.
                           MISS COSTELLO
                 You don't think it will, but it
     A moment and she A urns and leaves.


15.    INT. TENEMENT - NEW YORK.- DAY                                  1
The needle of a Victrola clawing at the endless music-less
inner bands of a 78 . . .                                .*       .
Cold eggs and toast and prescription medicine on a kitchenette
table. A puddle of coffee on the floor. Ceramic shards, a
broken cup. .
An old woman on her knees, eyes closed, arms tangled in an
aluminum walker, limp and stiff at once somehow, like the limbs
of a discarded marionette. Beyond her, beyond a threshold, a
shuttered living room. Furniture from another era and the
clutter of a lifetime.
A shadowy figure in a wicker wheelchair near the Victrola.
Another old woman, with spindly limbs, profoundly afflicted and
preposterously still. The back of her head is flat and bald,
the result of lying supine upon it for much of several decades.
On her passive face rest round wire-rim glasses. Insane or
retarded and unaware of the dead woman, she mumbles, just
barely audibly, a melody.
                     SAYER'S VOICE
           Can you hear me?                 .

Distant music of children's laughter. Perhaps real, emanating
from outside; perhaps imagined, remembered, playing in a remote
region of the woman's damaged mind. Arrested of all movement,
she stares, transfixed, at the blades of a fan.
                      SAYER'S VOICE
           Do you know where you are?
                 (nothing back)
           Do you remember being brought
                 (nothing back)
           Do you know what has happened?
If she does, she gives no indication. No word or gesture. No
change of expression on her mask of a face. She is elsewhere
(or nowhere), cut adrift by her illness, living in a private
world (or hell).
                    SAYER'S VOICE
          Can you hear me?
Sayer, wearing a white lab coat, tries to read her eyes.
Behind thick lenses, uncleaned for weeks or months, the eyes
are inscrutable.                                         .   ··

                                        REV. 12/5/89 (BLUE)       Pg.-lO
16.CONT.                                                            16.
Sayer reaches to her face and carefully pulls the glasses from
it. He cleans them with a flap of his lab coat -- they are
loose, bent out of shape*-- and gently slides the temples back
over her ears.
He turns away from her and types at a manual Underwood. The
form in the machine, at the top, reads -- BAINBRIDGE HOSPITAL /
a lower section headed -- FINDINGS / DIAGNOSIS.
He turns back in his chair to find the woman doubled-over in
her wheelchair, one arm very close to the floor, the hand
clutching the glasses. She is not moving, but she has moved.
That, or she is dead.
Sayer rights her, takes the glasses from her hand and slips
them back onto her face. He studies her for a moment, and for
that moment remains as still, as entranced, as her.
He takes the glasses from her face again and sets them on the
floor. He waits. She doesn't retrieve them. He picks them up
and holds them out to her. She doesn't move to take them. He
lets go of them and she lunges forward, catching them the
instant before they hit the floor. Sayer just stares.
                       SAYER«S VOICE
            Her name is Lucy Fishman . . .

Dr. Kaufman, the hospital's Chief of Medicine, notices a number
of patients lined up in their wheelchairs as he passes them on
his way into Sayer's examination room -
                        SAYER'S VOICE
            She was found by neighbors with                               *
            her sister, several days after the ,
            sister had died . . .

17.    INT. EXAMINATION ROOM - LATE AFTERNOON                       17.
The same room as before. The same woman. All that has changed
is the light. It's late afternoon.
                      SAYER (CONT'D)
           According to the neighbors,                                    *
           she's never set foot outside her                               *
           apartment, has no other living                                 *
           relatives, and has always been the                             *
           way she is now - without any                                   *
           comprehension or response.                                     *

Kaufman tries to feign interest. He glances to the others         1
Sayer has summoned to the room -- two other doctors, Tyler and
Sullivan, and Miss Costello.
          And yet . . .
Without any warning whatsoever Sayer tosses a tennis ball at
her. Her hand suddenly jerks up out of her lap and catches it.
And stays there, stiff, still.
Sayer is delighted but the expression on Kaufman's face is that
of one who has long ago learned and tired of simple card
tricks. Dismissing the phenomenon --·
                       DR. KAUFMAN
          A reflex.
          If she batted it away I might call
          that a reflex. She doesn't bat it
          away, she catches it.
                    DR. KAUFMAN
 -        It's still a reflex.
         ..·.    :        · ·' .· " .'
          I'm sorry, if you were right I'd
          agree with you.
Kaufman, understandably, takes some offense at the comment.
Sayer, however, is unaware that he has caused any.
          It's as if . . . having lost all
          will of her own on which to act,
          she borrows the will of the ball.
Awkward silence.    Eventually--
                     DR. TYLER
          The "will of the ball?"
Sayer nods. Kaufman and the other doctors concur with glances
that the theory and theorist are absurd.
                       DR. SULLIVAN
          Excuse me.
Sullivan has better things to do and leaves the room.   So does
Tyler. Kaufman and Miss Costello remain.

                                 DR. KAUFMAN                                 .       I
                      You're trying to make a good
                      impression. That's it, isn't it?
                      You're still settling in.
           Sayer isn't sure if he should agree or not.   He does neither.
                                DR. KAUFMAN
                      Miss Costello, you'll see that Dr.
                      Saver's patients waiting out there
                      are rescheduled for tomorrow?
                                  MISS COSTELLO
                      Yes, sir.
                                 DR. KAUFMAN
                      Good night.
           Sayer watches Kaufman leave. So does Miss Costello. Lucy,
           looking less like a woman than a Diane Arbus photograph of one,

C'\      Sayer climbs into his Toyota and, as he buckles his seat belt,
 -*©     recites in a mumble to himself --
                      One . . .                                                  .
                              (he turns the key)
                      Two . . .
                              (puts on sunglasses)
                      Three . . .
                              (releases the brake)
                      Four . . .
                              (shifts out of
           Just as he's depressing the accelerator, someone raps on his
           window. He slams on the brakes. Miss Costello's face appears
           at the window. Recovering, Sayer rolls it down.
                     What'd I forget?
                               MISS COSTELLO
                     I just wanted to say to you I
                     preferred your explanation.
    ()   It's unclear whether he knows what she's referring to.

                         MISS COSTELLO
               And that I'll look after things
               for you until you've "settled in."
               Good night, doctor.
    She leaves. He stares blankly out after her, then at his
    dashboard. To it eventually, quietly --
               Thank you . . .
    He glances to his rear view mirror and can see her walking away
    toward her car. To the reflection --
               Thank you very much.

    18A. EXT. SAMMY'S FISH GROTTO - ESTABLISH - NIGHT             18A.

    Sayer at a table eating dinner alone. He should've brought
    along something to read. He glances at the little "Catch of
    the Day" notice on his table for the tenth time, then absently
    in at an eel in a fish tank, which seems to be peering back out
    at him.
                          SIDNEY V.O.
               I am not mad ... not mad . . .

    20.   EXT. SCHOOLYARD & BAINBRIDGE HOSPITAL - DAY                 20.
    A tether ball dangling from a rope, resting against a pole.
    The chains of a swing. Pigeons scavenging scraps on the
    asphalt of the elementary school playground, deserted.
                          SIDNEY V.O.
               I know the difference between what
               is real and what is not . . .
    Beyond a chain-link fence, across the field, on the roof of one
    of Bainbridge's brick buildings, peering down from the edge of
    it, coat over his smock, hat on his head, an elderly man.

    21.   INT. SIDNEY'S DAYROOM - DAY                                   21.
    Tight on the elderly man's face.
               The voice was real.

                                     REV.12/12/89 (PINK)      Pg.14
21.C0NT.                                                          21.
Sayer nods in agreement though he is not altogether as certain
of tne claim. They are in a ward crowded with many patients
who are mad, obviously and irretrievably so.
           What did the voice say?
           "Mr. Titch, get your coat and hat,
           go up to the roof and jump off."
           Did you recognize it as belonging
           to a person? Or was it just a
Sidney considers Sayer suspiciously ... then smiles slyly.        *
           You don't deny it was you.                                  *
Sayer is taken aback. As is Sidney. One of them, and Sidney
believes he knows which, is lying or crazy.
                  ' ' · * SAYER '        .
            I do deny it. It wasn't me.
           It wasn't real.
           We've only just now met, sir.       »
Sidney, suddenly completely disoriented, withdraws.
           If that's true . . . I'm in a

22.   INT. STAFF CAFETERIA - BAINBRIDGE - DAY                    22.
Sayer in line with Drs. Tyler and Sullivan, both younger than      *
himself. He seems distracted, Sayer, lost in the color of the
beets on his tray. Or a thought.
Like George telling Lenny again about the rabbits:
                     DR. SULLIVAN
           We'd be high up - 40th, 50th
           floor, nice midtown view - suite                            *
           of offices, carpeted, good-looking                          *
           receptionist -                                              *

                                            REV.12/12/89 (PINK)        Pg.15

         22.CONT.            DR. TYLER                                    22
fp\    ·        Aquarium in the waiting room,
\_J)               George.                          ,
                               DR. SULLIVAN
                   We could have all that ... but
                   we'd miss all this. We'd miss        the
                               DR. TYLER
                   The smell of them.
                               DR. SULLIVAN
                   We'd miss this place -
                         (this cafeteria)
                   We'd miss this . . .
                         (the plate of mush as
                          it's set down onto
                          his tray)
                   Whatever this is.        .
                   Ye ....
        Sayer glances up at them, having paid attention to nothing
        they've said, and nods at some other thought.
               .        '    SAYER
                   Yes . . .    ,'
        He leaves his tray where he stands, and heads out of the
        cafeteria.                                 v

        23.   INT. SIDNEY'S DAYROOM - DAY                                23.
        Sayer back with Sidney.
                   Did you see me when-1 "spoke?"
       Sidney thinks about it, tries to remember, to summon back the
       moment in question, to picture it exactly as it happened, or
       didn't happen.
                   You see me now though.

                             REV.12/12/89 (PINK)               Pg.l5
23.CONT,                       (continuity only)
Sidney turns to a patient, an elderly woman in a wheelchair
beside him. Her state resembles that of Lucy's, that is, she
appears to have no awareness of Sidney, Sayer, or anything else
in her environment. It is only now, in fact, as Sidney spoons
soup into her mouth, careful not to spill any, that Sayer
notices her.


sr^                                                   SAY    ER
(y--\                         I   f    it    ha p   pe n s     ag a   in ,     M r. Ti t ch , I
 v_y                          w   an   ty    ou     to l     oo k     a ro u   nd . If yo u
                              d   on   't    act    u al l   y se     e me     , i f yo u o n ly
                              h   ea   rm    e,     you      c an     be s     u re th a t I ' m
                              n   ot    re   a l,    a nd     y ou     c an     i g no re m e.
         Sa ye r sm il es , pl ea se d w it h hi s so lu ti on .
                                          SID NE Y
                              U nle ss you us e th e P .A. sy ste m.
         S a ye r' s sm il e fa de s. Si d ne y is s ti ll i n a pr ed ic a me nt a nd
         Sa ye r has n' t t he a nsw er .

         2 4.          INT . NUR SE S' ST AT ION - D AY                                                                          24

         Sa ye r di al s th e ho sp it a l op er at or .
                                          S AY E R
                              Mai nten ance, plea se.
         W ai     ti n g t   o be        co n ne ct e d, he n o ti c es a n ot h er " s ta t         ue " ( BE R T) .
         W ha     t's un     se t t    l i n g a b ou t t h i s o n e, a pa r t f r om t he          ma n ' s g h os t -
         l ik     e ap p e   ar a n    ce , i s th e an g le o f h i s w he e l ch a i r.              I t ' s l i ke a n
P~ -\    ask      e w p ai   n ti n    g, a s i f w ho e ve r w as wh e el in g i t s im             p ly le t g o o f
\TS?    the       c h ai r   and       t h i s i s wh e r e i t a n d i t s c a r g o h a p p        e n e d to c o m e
        *to       r est,     faci      n g th e wal l.
         N   ot       wa nt i ng    to l o se th e c al l , Sa y er mo ve s t o wa r               d th   e p at i    en t ,
         k   ee   p   ing the       r e c e i ve r t o h i s e a r . At f u l l e x t e n          sion     of th     e
         c   or   d   , un f or t   un at e ly , h e' s s t il l t wo pa ce s s h or t             .R     e ac hi n   g b ac k
         w   it   h    the arm       w it h th e ph o ne , he g ai n s d i st a n ce               a nd   tu r n s    the
         w   he   e   lc ha i r q   ui ck l y j us t a s h is c a ll co nn e ct s .
                                            SA Y ER
                              Yes. Hi. I need                      a lock installed
                              on th e d oo r to th                e E as t Win g roo f.
                              A b ig l oc k . T he                s oo n e r t he
                                    ( pa us e )
                              I'm sor ry, th is i                 s D r. Say er. .
                                    (p au se )
                              I'm sorry, form . .                 .
        H e s c ri b b le s a n um b e r o n t h e b a ck o f h is h an d an d h a n gs u p.                               He
        wa nd e rs ov er to th e " st a tu e" ag a in .
                                           S AY E R
                              H ow ar e y ou ?
        No re s p on s e w h at s o ev e r . Sa y e r m a na g es h is p en i nt o t h e m a n 's
        ha nd an d s ea r ch e s hi s p o ck et s f o r pa p er .

                                                           REV. 10/13/89   p. 17
      He glances around. Sees an orderly reading a newspaper.
(P\   Borrows a section, returns with it, slides it under the pen and
       waits. The man doesn't write. Doesn't move.
      Sayer takes the pen back, returns it to his coat pocket,
      hesitates, pulls it out again, holds it out . . . and lets it go.
      The man, lightning quick, catches it.

      25.   INT. ANOT HE R DAYRO OM ( B) - L ATE R - DAY                           2 5.

      Another man rigid as stone (FRANK). This one peering up at a
      television set with a horizontal hold problem.
      Sayer drags a chair over, stands       on it, adjusts the set,
      corrects it, gets a picture . . .      but the man's "attention"
      slowly drifts away. Sayer "read       justs" it, gets the jumping
      horizontal lines again, and the       man's vacant eyes return.

      26.   INT. LEONARD'S DAYROOM - LATER - DAY                                . 26.
      Another dayroom crowded with patients, one of which stands
      before a table, absolutely motionless, on thin bird-like legs.
      It is Lucy, the one who caught/the tennis ball. The movement
      of nurses and other patients only accentuates her stillness.
       Sayer considers her from all      angles as    one considers an
       abstract art piece that baff     les but in   trigues. Unlike the
      others, she's on her feet. A      nd unlike    the others, she seems,
      to Sayer, to have been headed      somewhere    before turning to stone
                                   - ."        »
      He decides that her destination was the drinking fountain
      across the room. And that it's the table, like a barrier, that
      has arrested her progress. He moves the table.
      In what appears to be slow motion, she takes a tiny step. And
      another. And another before encountering and being "blocked"
      by an empty wheelchair. She stops.
      Sayer moves the wheelchair and all other obstacles out of her
      path. She continues and eventually makes it halfway to the
      fountain before mysteriously stopping again.
      Sayer studies the puzzle ... there are no longer any barriers
      in her way, but she's not moving. Defeated, he goes to the
      fountain himself, fills a paper cup, and takes it to her.
      Across the room, a man in a wheelchair, another "ghost"
      (LEONARD), stares through eyes which seem more dead than alive.
      "At" Sayer.

    27.   INT. FILE ROOM, BAINBRIDGE - DAY                            27

o   An admission form, yellowed and brittle with age --
                           STATE OF NEW YORK
    A typed date / AUGUST 2, 1929. The admitting physician's name.
    The patient's name. And age / 15. An identification number
    and ward assignment number.
    As Sayer pulls the folder and closes the drawer of one of
    several filing cabinets lining the walls of a claustrophobic
    room, Miss Costello slides open another, locates a particular
    folder in it and in the folder another admitting form -- The
    date / MAY 7, 1932. Names and numbers.
    Another drawer. Sayer pulling another folder. Another
    admission form ~ Date / DECEMBER 12, 1930. Age of the patient
    / 22.

    The files spread out on a table. Sayer and Miss Costello
    leafing through them.                    .
    Sayer considers one's original admission forms. He scans
    bodies of text and finds a diagnosis -- ATYPICAL SCHIZOPHRENIA.
    He sets it aside and picks up another.
                         MISS COSTELLO
               "Atypical Hysteria," this one.
    Sayer nods to himself and keeps reading his. He eventually
    finds in its text -- ATYPICAL RABIES. He flips to the end of
    the file. "No change since last examination" it reads. He
    turns the page. "No change, no therapy recommended." He turns
    the page, the last entry. "No change." The date, "11/9/44."
              There must be more recent files we
              missed somehow. "Part Twos" to
              their medical histories.
                    (Miss Costello is
                     shaking head 'no.')
              In some other filing cabinet
              somewhere.                 . ..
                          MISS COSTELLO


                                                                 REV. 10/13/89   p.19
            29.   EXT. PARKING LOT - BAINBRIDGE - EVENING                               29.
(>~s,       Sayer and Miss Costello walking to their cars.
                      One would think that after a point
                      enough atypical somethings would
                      amount to a typical something.
                      But a typical "what?"
            Miss Costello, no doubt, has less of an idea than Sayer what
            the "what" could be.
                                 MISS COSTELLO
        ,            Doctor . . . would you like      to g e t a
                       cup of coffee somewhere?
                       Ah . . . normally I'd say yes . . .
                       only I've made other plans . . .
            She nods quickly.    She seems, strangely, relieved.
                                 MISS COSTELLO
                       Some other time.
                                 MISS COSTELLO
                       Good night.
                       Good night.
            They veer apart to their respective cars.

            30.   INT. SAMMY'S GROTTO, CITY ISLAND - NIGHT                              30.
            The tiny gree/i eyes in the head of the eel staring out at
            refracted light and shadow. Sayer, alone at the same table as
            before, finished with his meal.
                      Tea, right?                 ·
                      P e s . '...-·
            The waiter leaves. Sayer glances back into the fish tank at
            the eel behind the rock, its rock, its home.

                                                                                (RE V. 10 /1 6/ 89) Pin k      _ p. 2 0

       31.    EXT. CITY ISLAND - LATER - NIGHT                                                                   31.
        Sayer strolling down a dark side street. He reaches a snail
        wooden house near the water and climbs three steps to the
        porch. He gets the front door opened and bends to pick up mail
        (including a few book parcels from antiquarian shops) just     *
        inside the threshold.                                            *

        32.    OMITTED                                                                                           32.

        33.    INT. SAYER'S HOUSE - DINING ROOM - LATER - NIGHT                                                  33.
       Tight on (Ernst Heckle) drawings of primitive life forms.                                                   *
       Sayer, in his dining room, leafs through the old first edition,                                             *
       pleased it has arrived, intrigued by its pictures. The parcel                                               *
       paper lies beside it on the table.                                                                          *

        34.    INT. SAYER'S HOUSE - LIVING ROOM - LATER - NIGHT                                                  34.
       Fingers on the keys of a baby grand piano that seems out of
       scale with Sayer's small living room. Wrapped in a robe, he
       plays a melody.
fcuJ   All around him lay packing boxes, some empty, many not. The
*^^    books are out at least - many of a medical nature, many others
        on nature itself,, botany, many first editions - two and three
        deep on shelves, on the floor, on tables, stacked on the couch -
        and chairs almost like figures of people.t

       35.     INT. SAYER'S HOUSE - LIVING ROOM - LATER - NIGHT                                                  35.
       A lamp, on, in the living room. Sayer asleep on the couch, an
       open book and reading glasses resting on his chest.
       His eyes blink open. Not at a noise. At a thought.

       36.     INT. EXAMINATION ROOM - BAINBRIDGE - LATER - NIGHT                                              36.
       A n i g h t ja n i to r w i th a p a i l -o n -w h e e l s a n d a m o p m o v e s p a s t
       da r k e n e d o ffi c e s.   H e p a u s e s a t o n e , th e fi l e r o o m , l i g h t u n d e r
       i ts d o o r , a n d o p e n s i t.                        .                   -..                  *
                       I'm sorry, doctor. I thought
                       someone left the lights on.


                                           REV.,12/5/89 (BLUE)       Pg.2
 36'.CONT.                                                         36.
  Glancing up from files strewn across the table, Sayer shares a
  discovery with the janitor -
           They all survived encephalitis
           years before they came here. In
           the 1920' s .
He taps a finger at the files - the patients' medical histories
prior to admission - forms listing childhood diseases and
ailments. The janitor, having no idea of course what he means,
retreats with his pail and mop, closing the door.
37.   INT. MEDICAL LIBRARY, NEW YORK - DAY                         37.
Sayer displays what he has written on the back of his hand to
an assistant librarian: NEJM 4-6-35.
           The New England Journal of
           Medicine, April 6th, 1935.                                    *

38.   INT. MEDICAL LIBRARY - LATER - DAY    .                      38.
A microfilm machine. Sayer manipulating its levers and
eventually finding what he's after, an article titled:
Accompanying the text are grainy black and white photographs
taken in an old operating theatre. An anatomical skeleton, a
doctor in a white coat, subjects-- men, women and children
with haunting eyes.

39.   EXT. RESIDENTIAL GARDEN, NEW YORK - DAY                      39.
Close on the doctor from the photographs - ancient and ill.
                     OLD DOCTOR
          Pus and pain, that's the final                                *
          reward. Pus and pain and
He's in a small unkept rose garden. With Sayer.                         *

No te: To g et c lear anc e fr om t he N ew En gla nd Jo urn al of *
Medicine, we must indicate that it is a weekly publication, *
which is why the "6th" has been added.                             *

                    OLD DOCTOR                .
          I believe you when you say some
          still live. But I can assure you
          they're medically irrelevant. As
          they were thirty years ago when I
          fought to get my work published.
He smiles at a thought, at once wistful and bitter.
                    OLD DOCTOR
          That's the problem with a unique
          disease. Once it no longer rages,
          I'm telling you, it becomes very
          unfashionable.         .
He buries his face into his mask, manages to get some deep
breaths into his lungs and shakes his head at Sayer.
                     OLD DOCTOR
          What would I be without this
          thing? A man with a1 shred of
          dignity le_ft.
          Should I get your nurse?
                    OLD DOCTOR
           God forbid, no.
He lights a cigarette, coughs and puts it out.
                    OLD DOCTOR
          How many have you found there?
          Five. So far. I think there may
          be more.
The old doctor nods. He has the torn look of someone reminded
of an unfaithful lover just when he'd managed to forget about
her. He wants and doesn't want to know how they're doing.
Finally --
                    OLD DOCTOR
          How are they?
         As you described them. As they
         were back then. As "insubstantial
         as ghosts." Only I guess most of
         them were children then.
                     OLD DOCTOR
          Yes.   Children who fell asleep.

o   40.   INT. OLD DOCTOR'S STUDY - DAY                               40
    Boxes of ancient history have been dragged out of storage, the
    emphysema-plagued doctor's post-encephalitic research, files
    and photographs and cans of 16mm film.
                         OLD DOCTOR
               Most died during the acute stage
               of the illness, during a sleep so
               deep they couldn't be roused. A
               sleep that in most cases lasted
               several months.
    The doctors, in the dark, watch forty year old footage
    projected onto a screen by a pre-World War II Bell & Howell -
    a motionless man in a chair, his head thrust back, mouth gaping
    open, arms suspended out from an emaciated torso as if from
    invisible strings.
                        OLD DOCTOR
              Those who survived, who awoke,
              seemed fine, as though nothing had
              happened. Years went by - five,
              ten, fifteen - before anyone
              suspected they were not well. .
              They were not.
    A doctor, this doctor decades younger, appears beside the
    subject on the screen and lowers the man's arms.
                        OLD DOCTOR
              I began to see them in the early
              1930's - old people brought in by
              their children, young people
              brought in by their parents - all
              of them complaining they weren't
              "themselves" anymore. They'd
              grown distant, aloof, anti-social,
              they daydreamed at the dinner
              table. I referred them to
    The man on the screen disappears and is replaced by a seal-
    shaped woman in whom a hundred strange diseases seem to reside.
    They conspire against her, torment and harass her, force her to
    perform incessant and meaningless actions with her hands, to
    paw her chin, to flutter, to adjust glasses that aren't there.

                                             REV.12/5/89 (BLUE)       Pg.24

     40.CONT.                  DOCTOR                                    40

                Before long they were being
                referred back to me. They could
                no longer dress themselves or feed
                themselves. They could no longer
                speak in most cases. Families
                went mad. People who were
                normal, were now . . .        *
                      (searches for the
                . . . elsewhere ...
    The woman on the screen is replaced by a young man, a teenager,
    who seems composed less of flesh than wax, a wax figure with
    real eyes.
              What must it be like to be them?
    On the screen, the young man's eyes, entranced, gaze upward as
    if trying hard to remember something. Or trying hard to forget
              What are they thinking?       .
                           OLD DOCTOR

0               They're not. The virus didn't   :
                spare the higher faculties.
                We know that for a fact.
                                OLD DOCTOR
                Bec use . . .

    Sayer waits for the old doctor to tell him the reasons, the
    data, to support the merciful truth. But he doesn't seem to
    possess it any more than Sayer does. Long silence before:
                          OLD DOCTOR
                Because the alternative is

    40A. INT. DAYROOM (C) - DAY                     '                 40A.
    The hand of a stone-like woman catches the tennis ball while
    the rest of her remains absolutely still. Sayer gestures to
    Anthony, Okay, and the orderly wheels her out of the crowded

4OB. INT. WARD 5 DAYROOM - DAY                   ·                4OB
The hand of an otherwise still-life man snaps to catch the
ball. Sayer nods to an orderly who wheels him out past younger
patients, Ward 5's residents.

40C. INT. CORRIDOR - DAY                                          40C
The ball glances off the face of a nan who turns in his
wheelchair and glares at Sayer.
           Sorry.                                      .

Sayer has assembled them all, the fourteen or fifteen he has
decided are post-encephalitics, and wanders among them like a
naturalist in a garden of stone.
He lifts an arm of one particularly remote male patient.   It
remains suspended, doll-like.
He tries to follow the trajectory of another's gaze.   It leads
 only to blank space.
He considers another who appears "deeply involved" in some
minute and curious activity with his twisted hands, a kind of
tearing, shredding motion.
                     .                       v
Across the room, paying no attention to Sayer, are Sidney and
Lolly. He's gently brushing her hair.
Sayer manages a pen into the hand of another woman and she
"draws" a kind a kind of circular shape that spirals in on
itself until it reaches a "vanishing point" in the center.

42.   INT. EXAMINATION ROOM - LATER - DAY                         42.
The results of standard perception tests scotch-taped to a wall
of the examination room.
Sayer and Miss Costello, like visitors to a museum, consider
each for a moment before moving onto the next.
Printed in the left column of each are a circle, square,
triangle and daisy. In the right are the post-encephalitics'
failed "attempts" to copy them.

                                              REV. 10/13/83   p.26
Sayer keeps coming back to one in particular. Unlike the
others which, if you use your imagination, vaguely correspond
somewhat positionally to the pre-printed shapes, this one bears
no resemblance. This patient has instead scrawled over the
shapes, seemingly violently.
Miss Costello joins Sayer and ponders it along with him.
Eventually, as if to excuse it and its maker--
                     MISS COSTELLO
           It's different.
           Quite.   It's quite bad.
Sayer keeps studying it.
               (more to himself)
          Did he fail to understand? Or was
          he unwilling to fail?
He isn't really asking her to answer, which is fine with her
since she doubts equally both hypotheses.
          Could he be saying, "I can't draw
          a triangle, don't make me"?
               (before she can
          Could it be willfully bad?
She doesn't say it but it's clear she thinks Sayer is reading
far too much into the "badness" of the patient's scrawl. To
himself -
          Which one is this?
He leans closer to see the typed name . . .

43.   INT. LEONARD'S WARD - DAY                                      43.
The painting of the Western town from the prologue - saloon,
livery stable, sunset. Below it, in his wheelchair, Leonard.
His face is unlined and passive, like a mask. His body is
still, like the dead.
                    SAYER'S VOICE          >|           v
          Does he ever speak to you?
Leonard's mother, a woman of seventy or so, is combing her
son's hair, being careful to get the part straight.

                                              REV. 10/13/89 p.27

                     MRS. LOWE
           Of course not. Not in words.
           He speaks to you in other ways.
           How do you mean?
                     MRS. LOWE   i
           You don't have children.
           No. ,
                     MRS. LOWE
           If you did you'd know.
Finished with his hair, she wheels him from the sleeping ward         *
and into the -

43A.   INT. LEONARD'S DAYROOM - CONTINUOUS - DAY                     43A
Sayer, trailing after Mrs. Lowe and her sonr becomes
momentarily distracted by Lucy, the most recently arrived post-
encephalitic, the one he tried unsuccessfully to coax to the
drinking fountain. She is there again, "stuck" at the same
point, angled toward the fountain but unable to reach it.
Sayer brings her a cup of water and rejoins Mrs. Lowe.       -
           I'd like to examine him again-if
           that's all right with you.
                     MRS. LOWE                              ,
           He did well.
           In a sense.
                     MRS. LOWE
           He's very clever. Aren't you,
           Leonard.                    .
Sayer shows her the perception test "drawing** Leonard made.
           Does this mean anything to you?
                     MRS. LOWE                          .
                (more to Leonard)                               ;·
          It's very good.                                       '·
She glances back to Sayer who nods uncertainly. She recognizes.
the look on his face; she's seen it before on the faces of more
doctors than she cares to remember.                 '         f

                                                REV. 10/13/89 p.28
                      MRS. LOWE
                 (becoming impatient
                  with him)
           Well it's abstract, isn't it.
Sayer can't bring himself to agree with her.
                     MRS. LOWE
           That's the problem with all you
           doctors, you have no imagination.
           Everything has to be real to you.
No longer having any use for him, she pointedly ignores him.
Taking the hint, Sayer's wanders off, past Lucy, looking like a
statue, holding the paper cup he brought her.


44.   INT. MRS. LOWE'S APARTMENT - NIGHT                               44
The door opens from the inside revealing Sayer in street
clothes. Judging from the look on Mrs. Lowe's face, he has
arrived unannounced.
                     SAYER                  .
           I want to know more about him.

An old photograph. A sixth grade class picture from 1930?,
Moving slowly across the young faces to Leonard, eleven, at the
end of a row.

                     MRS. LOWE 0.8.
           Something was wrong, they said,
           with his hands. He couldn't write
           anymore, he couldn't do the work,
           I should take him out of school,
           they said. He was eleven.
They're in Leonard's old bedroom, Sayer and Mrs. Lowe. Except
for the Western painting that's missing, nothing has changed in
it in thirty years.


                                     REV. 10/13/89   p.28A
          MRS. LOWE
He slowly got worse. He'd be
talking, suddenly he'd come to a
stop. After a few seconds he'd
finish what he was saying like
nothing happened, but these
standstills got longer. Sometimes
he'd call to me and I'd come in
and find him at his desk in a
trance. An hour, two hours. Then
he'd be okay again.


Sayer glances around the room.    It's been preserved, like a
                     MRS. LOWE
           One day I came hone from work and
           found him in his bed, his arm like
           this, reaching.
           "What do you want, Leonard?"
She pictures the moment in her mind, and waits, it seems, for
the young Leonard to speak, to tell her what it is he wants.
Finally she lowers her arm and shrugs.
                     MR.S LOWE
           He never spoke again. It was like
           he'd disappeared. I took him to
           Bainbridge later that year.
           November fourteenth, 1937.
           He was twenty.
Sayer glances away from her to the room itself again.
           What'd he do with himself, Mrs.
           Lowe, those nine years he stayed
           in this room?
She smiles to herself, proudly it seems.
                      MRS. LOWE
           He read.                        y

45.   INT. EXAMINATION ROOM - BAINBRIDGE - DAY                   45
Leonard's face in shadow. Wires emerging from his scalp. A
sluggish EEG pattern.
A blinding flash from a strobe.suddenly lights up the room.
The pupils of Leonard's eyes shrink, but his EEG remains
stuporously slow.


46.   INT. RESEARCH LAB - DAY                                    46
A monkey flipping switches on a panel built into a laboratory
room, searching for a sequence.
In an observation booth, years of collected data - charts and
graphs, EEG's and notes.

There, Dr. Mann, a contemporary of Sayer's, stares at Sayer      Ay
curiously. Eventually he manages --
          When you say you're working with
          people, you don't mean living
          people.                               (

          Living people, yes. Patients.
Mann just stares. He's a scientist, they both are, and the
idea of Sayer working with living people, rather than expired
ones laid out on the pathology table, is inconceivable to him.
               (fearing the answer)
          It's in The Bronx. It's a poor
          private chronic hospital called
          M ou nt --
           Oh, Malcolm, Malcolm, come back,
           come on. You're a benchman,
          you're no clinician, why would you
          lower yourself?
Sayer hasn't an answer for him.           »·
          How's Hank?
          How's Hank? He's great, he's
          brilliant, look at him.
Sayer glances away to Hank the monkey, watches him. Mann
studies Sayer, chagrined and incredulous.
          A physician? You?
He slaps him angrily across the shoulders with some papers.
The monkey completes a complex sequence which opens a chamber
revealing an electric train. The animal jumps and hoots with
wild glee. Sayer reaches out and presses the button on the
stop watch dangling from Mann's neck.
           Subtract two seconds off his

 47. OMITTED                                                         47
48.   INT. RESEARCH LAB - LATER - DAY                                48
Rats in cages, wired up, manipulating elaborate series of
ladders and pulleys, traversing catwalks, or ratwalks, leading
to glucose rewards.
While Mann, with something less than great enthusiasm,
considers an EEG Sayer has brought, his monkey drags toys over
to Sayer and tries to engage him in play. One of the toys is
an Ouija Board.
                (to, Sayer)
          Don't look at me like that. It's
          for his alphabet lessons.
                (to the monkey)
          We're busy, Hank, go play
The monkey obediently goes off in search of a deck of cards.
Gesturing at patterns on the EEG --
           Asleep. First stage normal.
           Second a little dull. Normal
He shrugs, lays out a second EEG, and gestures at patterns on
it --
          Awake. Slightly erratic. No more
          so than a lot of people walking
          the streets of New York.
                (shrugs again)
          I give up, what's wrong with him?
          You have them backwards. This is
          him awake . . .
                (points to one EEG;
                 then the other)
          This is him asleep.
           .-," -           .                            ^       ·
Mann thinks Sayer is kidding. He isn't.
          This is him awake? This is him
Sayer nods. Mann tries, without success, to make some sort of
sense out of that.

          What are you saying? When he's
          awake, what, he's dreaming?
          When there's any brain activity at
          all, which is infrequent, yes.
          Dreaming or hallucinating.
          And when he's asleep . . . ?
          When he's asleep he manages to
          create a kind of reality. What we
          might call reality.
          That's what you think these say?
          1 don't know.
Mann studies the "waking" EEC     He points to its one and only
large electrical peak.                     ;

          What's this peak? Strobe?
          No. This is the strobe.
Sayer indicates a flat section of the pattern where there is
scribbled in pencil a small "s."
          This . . .
  ,               (the large peak,
                   marked with an "L")                /
          . . . is me saying his name to him.
Mann stares rather dumbly at Sayer. Then at Hank the monkey on
the floor dealing solitaire.

49. INT. LEONARD'S DAYROOM - DAY                                  49
Tight on Leonard. Something blurs past him but his eyes don't
follow it. Pulling back, the object blurs by again from the
other direction.
Tight on Sayer. The thing blurs past his face. His eyes don't
follow it either. Pulling back, it blurs again.

                                               REV. 10.13/89 p.33
A circle of patients in wheelchairs. The post-encephalitics
reunited. "Waking" just long enough to catch and release the
object, a small beach ball.
Leonard and Sayer, on opposite sides of the circle, ignoring
the ball and the other patients. He's reached a dead end,
Sayer, right where he began, his only "accomplishment,"
this, ball-catching patients.

50.   INT. EXAMINATION ROOM - DAY                                   50.
Sayer alone in the examination room, tired, at its window
staring blankly out.
His perspective: The empty lot below littered with abandoned
couches, refrigerators, rusting automobile carcasses.
And beyond the lot, the elementary school playground. Laughing
children on swings and slides. Jumping rope. Batting tether
balls. Playing hopscotch.
Moving slowly in on one of the hopscotch games. On a girl
tossing a bean bag into a square. Jumping over it and into the
next square. Turning and jumping back. Balancing on one foot.
Retrieving the bean bag and tossing it down again. Into the
next square of the tile pattern chalked on the asphalt.

51.   INT. LEONARD'S DAYROOM - DAY                                  51.
From above, patients in wheelchairs dot the black and white
checkerboard linoleum-tile floor like chess pieces. The
pattern is regular to a point but then breaks up -- is
interrupted by an area of solid white, where a wall once stood
-- before being restored. It forms a kind of narrow "sea," the
white area, on either side of which lies "land."

At floor level Sayer and Miss Costello, on their hands and
knees, are "blacking in" the missing tiles with shoe polish,
"bridging" the gap between the two checkerboards. The retarded
patients around them ignore them. The ward nurses pretend to. '
Completing the pattern Sayer glances across the room to
Leonard. He seems to be "watching." His mother, nearby, idly
thumbing through a magazine as she brings Leonard up to date on
neighborhood news, isn't.
                                     ·t,   .

Sayer crosses to Lucy. Lifts her gently out of her chair.
Points her in the direction of the drinking fountain.
She begins to move. To step slowly over each tile. She
reaches the "bridge" and hesitates. Then crosses it.

                                                REV. 10/13/89   p.34
Sayer doesn't know whether to applaud or cry. He does neither,
burying his emotions behind a professional mask instead, and
watches as Lucy, "delivered" to the other side, free now, lets
the regularity of the pattern guide her toward the fountain.
She nears it. She is almost there. Then she is. there. But
doesn't drink. Doesn't stop. She continues past it . . .
To a window, the window bevond the drinking fountain which
Sayer hadn't noticed before, had no reason to notice, had no
need to notice, with a broken pane allowing a view to the
She stares out at the traffic below, in hopes no doubt of
figuring out where she is.
And Sayer's eyes, behind which exhilaration and horror rise up,
shift from her to Miss Costello, and then to Leonard, in whose
mask of a face Sayer thinks he sees a faint glimmer.
These people are alive inside.

52.   INT. DAYROOM (B) - DAY
A soap opera on a portable black and white TV in a narrow
passageway of a nurses' station., beyond a glass
partition, a crowded idle dayroom.
Miss Costello crosses into and out of view and reappears
moments later next to the TV. She switches it off and turns to
face the three RNs who were watching it. In their defense --
           The patients have all been given
           their morning medication.
                     MISS COSTELLO
           Good. Dr. Sayer was hoping you'd
           have some free time.
She hands a book to the nurse who spoke (MARGARET), a first
edition worn /rom many readings. Margaret glances from it to
the other nurses and back to Miss Costello.

53.   INT. DAYROOM (B) - LATER - DAY                                   53
The nurse holds the book like it's something quite foreign to
her. She finds the beginning of the first chapter, clears her
throat, and reads --
           "Call me . . . Ish-ma-el . . .

She glances up at her audience: three blank-faced post-          ,55
encephalitics. Miss Costello, who is nearby, nods to her to
continue. She clears her throat again, and, feeling like a
fool, reads --
           "Some years ago, never mind how
           long precisely, having little or
           no money in my purse, and nothing
           particular to interest me on
           shore, I thought I would sail
           about a little and see the watery
           part of the world . . . "
Miss Costello leaves.

Leonard's head locked on his shoulders at an improbable angle
that forces his entranced gaze upward to a point well above
           Can you hear me, Leonard? I want
           to hear you speak your name. :
            .               -
 Sayer waits . . . but Leonard remains mute.

55.   INT. SAYER'S HOUSE - MORNING   "                               55
Tight on Sayer pulling record albums from his extensive
classical collection.

56.   INT. DAYROOM (D) - DAY                                         56
An.old box-style phonograph. The kind whose top is also a
detachable speaker.
An orderly, Fernando, dusts it off, rigs it, takes the record
Miss Costello holds out to him, gets it spinning, and sets the
needle down.
Opera music. For the "enjoyment" of two more post-
encephalitics. The eyes of one narrow slightly, almost
imperceptibly.                         -.

57.   INT. EXAMINATION ROOM - DAY                                    57
The keys of Sayer's old manual Underwood typewriter. And
Leonard's claw of a hand hanging over them like one of those
unmanageable penny arcade cranes.

                                                    REV. 10/2/85

                         SAYER                                              57
           L . . . Leonard . . . L . . .
Leonard's hand remains still, suspended above the keys, for
what seems an eternity.

58.   INT. LEONARD'S DAYROOM - DAY                                         58.
Under Miss Costello's supervision, maintenance men remove the
gratings from the windows and washhthe panes.

      INT.- DAYROOM (D) - DAY                                              59.
30's jazz music. The orderly from before with "his" two post-
encephalitics. Each has a tray of cafeteria food, but only one
is eating, and mechanically at that.         <
            . . . not just any music, it has to
           be the right, music for them. Jazz
           does nothing for Bert. Only Rose.
           It's like they're only moved by
           music that moves them. I'm that
           w ay .
            Yes, so am I.                       >
The moment Fernando takes the record off, Rose stops eating,
stops moving. The orderly puts on Mozart and waits. Neither
patient moves.
           I haven't found anything that
           moves Bert yet.

59A. INT. CORRIDOR - DAY                                           '     59A.
A " no r ma l" pa t ie nt wi t h m ul t ip le sc l er os is h as ma na g ed to
inte rcep t S ayer on hi s w ay some wher e el se, his ar ms f ull wit h
an 8mm camera and tripod and screen.
                    j MS WOMAN
           I don't interest you like those
           other people, those ones with that
           That's not true.

                                                REV. 10/2/89

                     MS WOMAN
           I wish I had something like that.
           SSmething that would interest you
           instead of this stupid boring MS.

60.   INT. EXAMINATION ROOM - DAY                                  6
Leonard in his wheelchair, absolutely motionless. Sayer behind
the lens of the 8mm camera on the tripod. Drs. Tyler and
Sullivan, at the doorway, watch with some amusement.

60A. INT. DAYROOM (A) - DAY                                       60A
Miss Costello wheels the man who shreds invisible things to a
window and places a piece of toast from a tray into his hands.
He tears at it, the crumbs sailing out onto a landing, and a
flock of pigeons swoops up.

61.   INT. DAYROOM (C) - DAY                                      61
Three post-encephalitics with cards in their hands and the best
poker faces you ever saw.                :

           They'll sit there all day like
           that if I let them. I have to
           play the first card.
Sayer watches her pull a card from one of their hands and place
it on the table. All three "wake" and begin throwing down
cards, one after another.
           Is it a real game I wonder?
           If it is, I don't know it. Maybe
           it's three different games.
62.   OMITTED                               ,

63.   INT. CORRIDOR / DAYROOM (B) - DAY                            6
Sayer moving past "normal" patients lined up in the hall like
planes on tarmac. Suddenly, from a dayroom, booms the opening
bass line of Hendrix's "Foxy Lady."

                                                          (WHITE) REV. 12/4/89         P. 38
63.CONT.                      .. ..                   ,,    .     ,,        «            63.
Sa ye r pe er s cu ri ou sl y i nt o th e    ro om . B er t is ea ti ng a nd
An tho ny is g rin nin g. He see s S         aye r i n t he d oor way an d s ends
him a s elf -sa tis fied th umb s-u p        s ign.

64.    INT . DAY ROOM (C) - DAY                                                           64.

Mi ss C os te ll o si tt in g wi t h a po st -e nc ep ha li ti c m an . (F RA NK )

                            M IS S COS TE LLO
                Ther e's so met hin g el se tha t
                r eaches th em.
She t ouc he s the m an' s ha nd, h old s it , a nd hi s he ad sl owl y tu rns
to fa ce her.

                           M ISS CO STE LLO
                Human cont act.

Sh e pu ll s hi m ge nt ly t o h is if ee t an d wa lk s wi t h hi m a fe w
steps.                                                                                   .

                             M IS S CO ST EL LO
                H e ca n' t wa lk w it ho ut m e . I f I
                let go -                                 ;
                       (to the patient)
                I won't let go of you' -
                       (to Sayer)
                - if I let go , he 'll fa ll. H e'll
                wa lk wit h me an ywh ere .

They wa lk a f ew more st eps an d t ears be gin to fo rm i n M iss
Coste llo's eyes .

                           M IS S CO ST EL LO
                It's like the ball . . . only it's
                my wi ll he's bo rro win g.

Sa ye r, to o, is m ov ed. But a s he wa tch es M iss C ost el lo an d her
p at ie nt w al k aw ay , hi s e xp re ss io n ch an ge s; s om e th in g sh e ha s
sa id o r do ne h as s tr uc k a c ho rd , or u nl oc ke d a d oo r:

Close on their hands . . .

65.    OM IT TE D    -                                                                    65.

66.    IN T. BAI NBRI DGE - NIG HT                                                        66.

Em pt y cor ri dor .     E cho in g f oo ts tep s.

67.    IN T. LEO NARD 'S WAR D - NI GHT                                                   67.

Le o na r d .   T uc k ed i n b u t " a wa k e. " St a r in g a t th e ce i li n g .

                                            REV. 10/13/89   p.39

                       SAYER O.S.

68.   INT. LEONARD'S WARD - LATER - NIGHT                               68.
In a far corner of the darkened ward, in a pool of lamp light,
two silhouetted figures. Sayer and Leonard. Sleeping patients
all around them.
Sayer carefully, awkwardly, places   his hand on Leonard's.
After a moment, the contact brings   the useless appendage "to
life." As it slowly turns over and   grasps the doctor's hand, a
glimmer of life seems to appear in   Leonard's eyes as well.
Sayer, unfamiliar, it seems, with the feeling the contact
produces in him, nonetheless places his other hand on Leonard's
other. Soon it too turns and holds onto Sayer's.
The doctor draws both of Leonard's hands toward him and sets
them down on the pointer of an Ouija Board.
           I'll begin moving the pointer
           toward the "L." For "Leonard."
           Once I feel you beginning to move
           it, I'll stop and you'll take .
           over. Do you understand?
 Leonard, of course, cannot say whether he does or not. The
look on his face is "thoughtful." The look on Sayer's, hopeful
and foolish.
           I'm beginning . . .
The pointer begins to slowly move past stars and moons.
Judging from Sayer's expression he begins to feel Leonard's
movement of it and, presumably, stops his own.
          Yes, good . . .
The pointer moves across the letters, but passes the "L"
without stopping. It stops on the "R."
          No. No, I didn't make myself
          clear. My fault. I . . .     .
The pointer begins moving again, "interrupting" Sayer.      It
passes the "L" again, reaches the "I" and stops.
                      SAYER                                      '    ".,
           No. No, I . . .                                  .     .

                                                REV. 10/13/89   p.40
 But the pointer is moving again.      It stops on the "L."
            Yes. Yes. That's what I meant. .
            "L." Good. Now the "E."
 It begins moving again. But not to the "E." To the nK," where
 it hesitates briefly before moving again.
                   (realizing, to
            . . . you're spelling something
            el e . . .
Keeping one hand on the moving pointer, Sayer fumbles a pen
from his shirt pocket and scribbles on his lab coat what
Leonard has and is continuing to "write":

Sayer alone in the examining room, standing over his desk.           The
lab coat is on it. And on it is scrawled:
He has to study it only a moment before he sees the meaning of
it; he quickly scratches out the last four letters,and adds a
slash between the "S" and the "P," so that it reads:
             R I L K E s/p A N T H E R     BmBJUP*

69A. EXT. PUBLIC LIBRARY. - ESTABLISH - DAY                                69

70.    INT. PUBLIC LIBRARY - DAY                      '                    7
 A card catalogue.   Cards flipping by, stopping on one that
      831 R Rilke, Rainer Maria
            German poet and fiction>fwriter;
            1875-1926; Collected Poems
            tr. fr. German by --

71.    INT. PUBLIC LIBRARY - LATER - DAY                  .     .,         7
Moving slowly in on Sayer at one of the library tables with a V            .
book.        ,                                         ·..

                                                   REV. 10/13/89 p."
                                                        (continuity onxy;
                      SAYER'S VOICE
           "His gaze from staring through the
           bars has grown so weary that it
           can take in nothing more . . .

72.                                                                      72.
Moving slowly into the Western painting.
                      SAYER'S VOICE
           "For him it is as though there
           were a thousand bars, and behind
           the thousand bars, no world . . .

72A. EXT. BRONX ZOO - DAY                                               72A.
Moving in on a panther, limbs weakened, spirit broken, slowly
pacing back and forth before the bars of a small cage.
                       SAYER V.O.
           "As he paces in cramped circles,
           over and over, his powerful
           strides are like a ritual dance
           around a center where a great will
            stands paralyzed . . .
 Moving slowly away from Sayer watching, moving high above him;
the place is virtually deserted.

73.   INT. LEONARD'S WARD - DAY                                          73.
Moving slowly in on Leonard as, in bed, flannel pajamas, as his
mother diapers him for the night.
                      SAYER V.O.
           "At times the curtains of the eye
           lift without a sound . . .
Moving slowly< in on Sayer, unseen in a doorway, staring at
Leonard, at the look of contentment on his face. Or is it a
look of impotent rage?
                         SAYER V.O.
           ".    . . and a shape enters, '.slips
           thr   ough the tightened silence of
           the    shoulders, reaches the heart
           and    dies .i."                         .            ...
                                              FADE TO BLACK   . '''.'

                                            REV. 10/13/89 p.41A
                                                 (continuity only)
73A. EXT. AUDITORIUM - NEW YORK - AFTERNOON                       73A.
Professional and    professorial types filing in past a placard,
an enlargement of    an article from the Journal of Neurochemistry
There's excitement (and jealousy) in the air.

74.   INT. AUDITORIUM - AFTERNOON                                74
An anatomical skeleton dangling from a metal stand.
           There's an ordinary medicine with
           which we are all familiar. An
           everyday medicine of stubbed toes
           and bunions and boils.
A man at a podium in a modern version of the 1920's basement
operating theatre.
          And then there is another kind.
          A medicine that holds out to the
          afflicted the promise of restored
He glances to a point above his listeners, and an overhead
projector splashes a diagram of molecular structure (and the
silhouette of a raised hand) onto a screen. The neurochemist
traces the shadow to its maker in the audience.
           Thank you. Yes. Yes, I'm very
           much interested in your work with
           this drug. I'm curious if . . .
           Doctor ...?
           Sayer. I'm curious if you . . .
          After I'm through, Dr. Sayer.      If
          you wouldn't mind.
Sayer glances around the auditorium. Everyone's looking at
him. He grasps the offending hand and holds it in his lap with
the other.

75.   INT. AUDITORIUM LOBBY - LATER - AFTERNOON                  75,
Refreshments on tables. Sayer, uncomfortable in his suit,
wandering around the crowded room with a glass of wine. He
approaches its hub of activity, the neurochemist surrounded by
several impressed colleagues, but can't manage to get close
enough to speak with him.

The neurochemist walks in and crosses to the urinals. A moment
later, he hears the door opening, and footsteps, and then
nothing, until --
                       SAYER O.S.
           Do you   think it's possible that
           simple   Parkinsonian tremor taken
           to its   furthest extreme could
           appear   as no tremor at all?
When no one answers, the chemist glances over his shoulder.
Sayer is there, quite alone, looking at him.
           Are you speaking to me?
Sayer is. And really wants to know the answer. The chemist
zips up and moves to the sinks to wash his hands.
          If jail the compulsions in the
          Parkinson's patient were somehow
          accelerated -
               (demonstrating what
                he means)
          - the hands, the shaking, the
          tics, the head bobbing, the
          quickening speech -
               (he's become a mass       »
                of tics and
                accelerated speech)
          - might they not cave in on
          themselves and, in effect, turn
          the person into stone?
He comes to a abrupt stop, his eyes transfixed like a post-
encephalitic's, staring. The chemist slowly dries his hands
with a paper towel.
          Dr. Sayer, yes?
               (Sayer nods)
          I'm a chemist, doctor. I leave it
          to you guys to do the damage.
He drops the paper towel into the trash and leaves

77.   EXT. PARKING LOT - BAINBRIDGE - MORNING                 77
Emerging from his car with some papers, Dr. Kaufman is ambushed
by Sayer.                                                  ..

                                          REV.12/13/89 (YELLOW)    Pg.

77.CONT.              SAYER                                       77.
           Did you have a chance to look at
           any of the -.
           Freud believed in miracles.
           Prescribing cocaine like it was
           candy . . .
Sayer has to hurry to keep up with his supervisor as he heads
toward the hospital.
           We all believed in the "miracle"
           of Cortisone until our patients
           went psychotic on it. Now it's
He hands over the papers - xeroxed articles from medical
journals and newspapers which Sayer gave him to read - and
keeps going, Sayer straggling a few steps back.
           With all due respect, I think it's
           rather too soon to say that.
           With all due "respect," it's
           rather way too soon. Let the
           chemists do the damage.
The gap between them widens as Sayer slows. He expected this
sort of reaction from Kaufman, but had hoped for another.
Kaufman disappears into the building.

77A. INT. KAUFMAN'S OFFICE - LATER - MORNING                       77A
The stack of papers drops onto Kaufman's desk. The one on top
           Did you read the case - the
           husband who came home to find his
           wife singing. She hadn't felt
           like singing in years.
Kaufman, on the phone, glances to Sayer long-sufferingly, lets
him wait while he finishes with his call, and eventually sets
down the receiver.

                                                 REV.12/13/89 (YELLOW)     Pg.

           77A.CONT.             KAUFMAN                                   77A.
                       I read them all. Soberly. All
                       thirty cases had mild Parkinson's.
                       Your Parkies - if that's what they
                       are - haven't moved for decades.
                       You know better than to make a
                       leap like that, you want to
                       believe there's a connection, that
                       doesn't mean there is one.
                       What I believe, what I know, is
                       that these people are alive
                       How do you know? Because they
                       catch tennis balls?
                       I know it.
           Sayer doesn't elaborate, but his tone is resolute. And it has
           the intended effect on Kaufman, causing him to consider the
           possibility that Sayer could, somehow, know it as a fact.
r..iiJi!                And what if this drug were to
                        kill them?
                                SAYER -
                           (right back)              >
                     And what if this drug were to
                     cure them?
           Somewhere behind Kaufman's eyes Sayer can see, he thinks, a
           change, or reminiscence, long ago, long buried, of things he
           once believed or wanted to believe.
                       How many did you think I ' d let you
                       put on it?
                       All of them ... some of them ...
                       one of them . . .
                       One. With the family's consent.
           Sayer tries to hide his elation and turns to leave before
           Kaufman changes his mind.

                                        REV.12/13/89 (YELLOW)       Pg.46

    77A.CONT.                KAUFMAN                                 77A.
                Sayer -
    Sayer turns. He was almost to the door. He had almost made            *
    it out.
                That "immense" project of yours.
                The myelin? The worms? When that
                failed, what was the reaction of
                your lab supervisor?                                  ·
    Sayer thinks about lying, but senses Kaufman knows the answer         *
    already and just wants to hear him say it. So he does:
                He asked me to leave.   .
    Kaufman nods like, Just checking. And -
                             KAUFMAN                     .
                Good luck.
    Sayer leaves.

    78.   INT. MRS. LOWE'S APARTMENT - NIGHT                          78.

    A standard consent form and pen on a kitchenette table. Two
    coffee cups. One used tea bag.
                People with ordinary Parkinson's
                Disease sometimes complain that
                they've "lost their grace . . . "
                      (he picks up a cup
                       with a shaking hand)
                They have to think about the
                things we just do . . .
                      (with great "trouble"
                       he sets it down)
                It has to do with a chemical in
                the midbrain, or rather the lack
                of it, called dopamine. L-Dopa
                replenishes this dopamine, making
                it possible for these patients
                to move more naturally.
    He picks up the cup again, gracefully, and sets it down.
                          MRS. LOWE
                Leonard has Parkinson's Disease?


                                    REV.12/13/89 (YELLOW)

78.CONT.              SAYER
           No. No, his symptoms ... are
           like Parkinsons ... and then again
           they're not.
She doesn't understand what he means; there's no reason why she
                      MRS. LOWE
           Then what will this medicine dp.
           for him?
           I don't know what it'll do for
           him, if anything.
                     MRS. LOWE
           What do you think it will do?
           I don't know.
                      MRS. LOWE
           What db< you hope it will do?

                                                   REV. 10/13/89   p.47
                I hope it'll bring him back from
                wherever he is.
(O                         MRS. LOWE
                To what?
                To the world.
                           MRS. LOWE
                What's here for him after all
                these years?       '
                You are here.
     She ponders that and the enormity of the whole situation, all
     the while staring at the consent form.

     The hospital pharmacy, a subterranean structure built into the
     basement, cluttered from floor to ceiling with medicines.
     Ray, the pharmacist, dips into a bag of powder. He spoons some
     out onto a scale and looks to Sayer to tell him the dosage.
                I have no idea. What do you say
                we ease into it with ... what, »      .
                fifty milligrams?
     Ray begins to measure five milligrams.
                Let's say a hundred.
     Ray shrugs; it's okay with him. He knifes at the powder,
     removing all but 100 milligrams.

     80.   INT. LEONARD'S DAYROOM - DAY                                   80
     Leonard, sphinx-like in his wheelchair, his mother by his side.
     Sayer, stirring the L-Dopa into a paper cup of orange juice.
     Miss Costello, in the doorway, watching. Sayer hands the glass
     to Mrs. Lowe.                                  v
     (NOTE: Consult w/Sacks on this; may need the contents of a '          *
     capsule emptied into the cup)  -             '-'

                                                          RSV. 10/13/89   p.48
                     Leonard? Your mother's going to
                     give you some juice. There's
                     medicine in it which is why it may
                     taste more bitter than usual.
          Sayer glances to Mrs. Lowe. It's as if they've rehearsed it
          all. She holds the glass to her son's lips and gradually
          drains the liquid down his throat.
          Nothing immediately happens, of course, but they all, with the
          exception of Leonard, look as if they expect it to. Mrs. Lowe
          hands the empty glass back to Sayer.
          And they all wait.

          81.   INT. THE PHARMACY, LATER - DAY                                   81.
          Ray measuring out another 100 milligram dose.
                    Maybe the acid in the orange juice,
                     neutralized it.
                    Or maybe it's not enough.
                                    .                *                           ·
^··,-N    . Ray tosses Sayer a look that says, "don't push it." Sayer
\0     " n od s .             ·      ."'·          "
                     I'll try it in milk.

          82.   INT. LEONARD'S WARD - NIGHT                                      82.
          An empty milk glass on a night table. "
          Leonard, in his wheelchair, in pajamas, still and silent under             *
          the painting of the boat.
          His mother, Sayer and Miss Costello watch and wait while around            *
          them nurses atid orderlies hoist other patients into bed.

          83.   INT. THE PHARMACY - DAY                                          83.
          Ray scrapes powder from the scale into a pharmaceutical funnel
          which takes it down onto a miniature glass dish. Handing the
          dis h to Say er --     ;
                     Five hundred milligrams.

                                              REV. 10/13/89 p.49

84.   INT. LEONARD'S DAYROOM - DAY                                   84.
Another empty milk glass. Leonard, stoic, or     so it seems, in
his wheelchair. His mother and Sayer and Miss     Costello waiting
for a movement, a change of expression, a sign    of any kind that
something is happening inside him. But there's   nothing . . .

85.   INT. BAINBRIDGE - NIGHT                                        85.
A corridor. Mrs. Lowe is leaving.    Sayer is with her, seeing *
her to the door.
           I'll call if there's any change.
                     MRS. LOWE
Neither really knows what else to say except for good night.
She leaves.

86.   INT. LEONARD'S WARD - NIGHT                                    86.
Sayer and Miss Costello lift Leonard out of his wheelchair and
into his bed.
                     MISS COSTELLO
           I'm going home too. If you need
           me . · *
           Yes, I'll call.
They nod "good night" atT each other and Miss Costello leaves.
Sayer slumps into Leonard's wheelchair. lAnd waits.

87.   INT. THE PHARMACY - NIGHT                                      87.
Ray has gonejhome, too. Sayer, alone in the pharmacy, measures
out 1000 milligrams, ten times the original dose.

88.   INT. LEONARD'S WARD - NIGHT                                    88.
Sayer at Leonard's bedside, holding the glass to Leonard's
lips, draining the liquid into him, all of it.

89.   INT. LEONARD'S WARD - LATER - NIGHT      .                   8
Sayer asleep in the wheelchair. He stirs. Wakes. And takes a
moment to remind himself where he is. And why. His eyes
narrow, uncomprehending.
Leonard's bed is empty.

A claw of a hand dragging a crayon across a sheet of paper.
Tight on Sayer, framed in a doorway, as still and silent and
entranced as a post-encephalitic.
His perspective of the dayroom -- deserted except for a figure,
a patient, Leonard, hunched over the table.
As Sayer crosses toward him, Leonard's head slowly rises.
Sayer sits opposite him and they consider each other in silence
for several moments.
Leonard struggles to speak, to form words. They come out in a
halting cadence, flat, without inflection, and are only barely .
recognizable as words:                   .
           It's quiet.
           It's late.    Everyone's asleep·>
           I'm not asleep?
          No.   You're awake.
Though he nods, it's unclear whether Leonard realizes how
significant that is. Sayer gestures at the piece of paper
beneath Leonard's hands.
          May I?
Sayer draws the paper across the table. It's covered with what
seems imponderable hieroglyphic-like scrawl. But there is
order in the chaos. Letters. Leonard's name.

91.    INT. EXAMINATION ROOM - DAWN                                 91
Alone in the room, Leonard moves slowly around it, feeling
things: the smoothness of the cabinet glass/ the warmth thrown
by a desk lamp, water from the cooler splashing onto his hand.
                       SAYER O.S.
Leonard turns to Sayer's voice with an expression of child-like       ,
wonder on his face.
            Your mother is here.
She appears in the doorway of the room. She's done her hair,
her face, she's put on a nice dress, yet she remains unprepared
for this reunion. She can do nothing but stare at her "infant
son" who is now, "suddenly," a man.
As he slowly crosses toward her, she is struck by the fact she
must look u£ in order to meet his eyes. He reaches her.
Reaches out to her. And she embraces him.

92.    INT. CORRIDOR - MORNING                                     .92.

 A corridor crowded with patients in wheelchairs with nowhere to
go and nothing much to do.
                      MISS COSTELLO
            My name is Elizabeth. It's a »
            pleasure to meet you.
Leonard, standing, reaches for her hand and struggles to
pronounce her name correctly. Fighting to keep from crying in
front of him, Miss Costello glances to Sayer and Mrs. Lowe.

Miss Costello, flanked by Sayer and Mrs. Lowe, watches as
Leonard extends his hand to the "card playing nurse."
           How do you do, sir? My name is

o   94.   INT. ANOTHER CORRIDOR - MORNING                              9
    Margaret has joined the "tour, group" and introduces Leonard to
    the "music orderly." They shake hands.
               Fernando. How are you?
               Great, man. How're you?
               Great, too.

    Fernando is along for the ride and watches Leonard shaking Ray
    the pharmacist's hand.
               How do you do, Mr. Lowe?
               Good, sir.

    The cooks and kitchen workers around Leonard and his entourage,
    shaking his hand.
                                             >.                .
    96. INT. STAFF CAFETERIA - LATER - DAY                            9
    A tray of truly awful cafeteria food. The group, minus Sayer
    and Miss Costello, watches Leonard dip a fork into some mush-
    like concoction and manipulate it, with difficulty, to and into
    his mouth. He seems amazed by its flavor.
               It's delicious.
               I wouldn't go that far, Len.
    Sayer and Miss Costello, at another table, glance over to the
    others who are all laughing. Sayer smiles.
                         MISS COSTELLO
               I don't think I could deal with
               losing 3D years of my life. I
                can't even imagine it.

                                             REV. 10/13/89 p.53
Sayer's smile fades. The possibility that Leonard might not
have realized the extent of the passage of time had not, until
 this moment, occurred to him. He stares blankly at Miss
                     MISS COSTELLO
           He does realize it, doesn't he?
Sayer nods uncertainly.
           He must.

Sayer demonstrates a clapping motion. Leonard repeats it more
slowly but with decent motor control.

Sayer makes a note. They are alone in the examination room
which, like most of the hospital, has little in it to indicate
that it is not the 1930's.
           Can I see you walk the length of
           the room?                        *
Leonard walks slowly across the room past the perception tests
and notes and Polaroids cluttering the wall. Coming back, he
pauses. He's looking at a picture of himself taped there.
Sayer watches him slowly reach his hands to his face to feel
his features. He stares at the photograph of himself, trying
to comprehend that which cannot be comprehended.
He's not younjg anymore.
99.   INT. LEONARD'S WARD - NIGHT                                 99.
Sayer and Mrs. Lowe at Leonard's bedside.

                                                                  RE V. 10 /1 3/ 89   p .54
                                 L EO N AR D
                 I ' m af r ai d to cl os e m y ey e s . . . If
(y\              I close my eyes . . .
      He hesitates, as if saying it may make the fear more real.
                 . . . you'll sleep. And when you
                 wake up in the morning, it will be
                 the next morning. I promise.
      Sayer's smile tries to assure them both that it will happen
      just that way. He excuses himself, leaving Leonard with his
      mother, joins Miss Costello by the door and glances back. Mrs.
      Lowe is stroking Leonard's head as she hums a lullaby.

      100.   INT. ROOM ADJACENT TO EXAMINATION ROOM - MORNING                             100.
      Sayer comes in with some books, sets them on Miss Costello's
      desk and crosses to a closet.
                 I didn't sleep, did you?
                           MISS COSTELLO
                 Does it look like it?                   .
      Sayer hangs up his jacket and slips into a lab coat.
                 Do you know if Leonard's awake?
      She smiles and points toward the adjoining examination room.

      101.   INT. THE EXAMINATION ROOM - MORNING                                              101.
      Showered and shaved and groomed and bright-eyed, Leonard sits
      listening to his own heartbeat with Sayer's stethoscope.
      Coming in --
                    i      SAYER
                 Good morning.
                Good morning.     .
      His speech is still rather flat, halting.,
                 Been waiting for me long?

                                                      REV. 10/13/89 p.55

      Sayer smiles.    He hands Leonard the books.   History books. An
                Some things have happened while
                you've been away. I thought you'd
                be interested.
      Leonard opens one carefully, reverently, and begins reading
      from it to himself.
                 You don't have to read them now,
                 Leonard. They're yours. At your
      Leonard closes the book but holds onto it and the others like
      they're gold.
                I used to read quite a lot.
                          SAYER i
                Yes, I know.      .
                Thank you for these.
            i                       .
      Sayer nods that he's welcome.
                Have you thought about what you'd
                like to do today?
                I'm not sure I can arrange that.
      Sayer smiles again. For a man who just yesterday learned he
      has been cheated out of the greater"- part of his life, Leonard
      seems to have recovered extraordinarily.
                Let's approach it this way. What              . ".
  x             do you think you'd like to do                    .
1J              first?                                       ..·

                                             REV. 10/13/89 p.55A
                                             (continuity only)
          I'd like to go outside.

101A. EXT. BAINBRIDGE HOSPITAL - DAY                              101A
Sayer and Leonard emerge from the hospital and move under trees
along a path toward the parking lot. At a point, the doctor
realizes his patient is no longer at his side; he's several
steps back, feeling the sunshine on his skin.

      102.   EXT. PARKING LOT, BAINBRIDGE - MORNING                      102
      Though it is only a Toyota, its dashboard, to Leonard,
      resembles something out of Jules Verne. He allows Sayer to
      buckle his seatbelt for him and watches with fascination as
      Sayer performs the "complex" preparatory sequence necessary,
      apparently, to make the car go.
      The car pulls away. Above, framed in a second story window of
      one of the buildings, stands a lone figure looking out --
      Leonard's mother.

      103.   INT. SAYER'S CAR - MOVING - MORNING                         103
      Tight on the radio. Sayer switches it on. To Leonard's
      amazement, classical music fills the interior


      104.   EXT. THE BRONX - MOVING SHOTS - MORNING                     104
      Billboards advertising color televisions and electric shavers.
      Buses which have grown over the decades to a behemoth scale.
      "Ultra-modern" housing projects and gas stations.
      "Futuristic" cars.
      Leonard cannot imagine a more enthralling re-introduction to
      the world and stares at it all with wonder. Everywhere he
      looks there is something "extraordinary."
                 What a wonderful place The Bronx
                 has become.
      The music CONTINUES OVER:
                        ''   '                           *

      105.   INT/EXT. NEW YORK BOTANICAL GARDENS - DAY                   105
      A rose.       ,
      Leonard puts his face close to it to appreciate its fragrance.
      He touches its petals gently, explores them, and is quietly
      astonished by the tactile sensation.
      Sayer watches. He, too, can appreciate wonders of the real
      world, especially those of a botanical nature, but not with, the
      purity or intensity Leonard can.
      Pulling back reveals them in the middle of a vast garden of
      countless thousands of roses.

106.   INT. SAYER'S CAR - MOVING - DAY                            106
Leonard turns the radio dial from the classical station to
another playing a very different kind of music, and listens to
it bemused but intrigued. It's John Lennon singing "A DAY IN

107.   EXT. PARK - THE BRONX - LATER - DAY                        107
Children playing flag-football on an expanse of grass. Dogs
running around, nannies with prams, lovers.
A disk, a frisbee, falls at Leonard's feet. He retrieves it
but has no idea what it is or what to do with it. Sayer
demonstrates the wrist action with an invisible one. Leonard
doesn't get it. Sayer takes it from him and flings it
pathetically not halfway back to its owners.

Leonard watches with interest a Carvel ice cream machine. He
and Sayer are handed cones and Leonard's attention moves to a
girl wearing an unbelievably short skirt.
Her boyfriend stares at Leonard. Sayer tries to pull his
charge's attention elsewhere. Leonard, finally, glances away,
up, to a sound overhead.

A 747 roaring down a runway. At the edge of it, it lifts off
and thunders over Sayer and Leonard and the parked Toyota.
Exhilerated, Leonard waves.
110.   OMITTED                                                    110
111.   EXT. THE BRONX / CITY ISLAND - DAY                         111
An expressway. The Toyota traveling at "astounding" speed,
passing a sign that reads CITY ISLAND.

                                               R!V. 10/13/89   p.58
    Boats and fish markets and lush vegetation. Paradise compared
    to the Bronx. The Toyota turns down a side road near the water         t
    and into the driveway of Sayer's small wooden house.
w   '.·.                     .         '
    And the mus ic ends.

    112.   INT. SAYER'S KITCHEN / DINING ROOM - DAY                       112.
    Tea bags steeping in a pot on a cluttered kitchen counter.
    Sayer, exhausted from the day, hunts in vain through packing
    boxes on the floor for crackers, cookies, something he can
    offer his guest.
    He keeps glancing in at Leonard, who's wandering around the
    dining room, navigating around packing boxes, to browse at the
    spines of books. Noticing Sayer watching -
               You just moved here.
               Yeah. Well, five years ago.                                 ,
    Sayer shrugs, disappears into the kitchen a moment . . . before            ;
    peeking back in to see what Leonard is looking at now: a small             i
    framed photograph of a boy with a toy sailboat and a forlorn
    expression posed in front of a curtain; the boat obviously a
    photography studio prop.
               Your son?
               Me, actually.
                                       '      ,,"                     t
                     (looking closely at                              '
                      the photograph)
               You seem uncomfortable.
               I probably was.
    Sayer disappears into the kitchen again. And a moment later
    glances back in around the door frame at Leonard who has moved
    over to an old sideboard on which several pairs of glasses are
    neatly arranged.                   ·
               Each has a specific purpose.

                                                   REV. 10/13/89   p.59
    As Leonard considers each pair of glasses ...
               Those are my normal interior
               glasses. And spare pair. Those,
               I wear outside. Two pairs, in
               case I los.e one. Those, those are
               my daytime reading glasses. And
               spare. Those are for close work.
               For fine print. Those are my
               nighttime reading glasses -

    Leonard's examining the frames of this last pair closely.
               That's heavy-gauge metal so when I
               fall asleep and roll over on them
               I don't wreck them. They're
    Leonard returns the indestructible ones to their proper place
    and considers them all together.
               As long as I pretty much know
               ahead of time what I'll be looking '
               at, it works out, I don't have to
               carry all five pairs around.
               What if you just want to go for a
               Walks are a problem. Walks are
               the hardest thing. You just never
    He's absolutely serious, like a man plagued for years by an
    imponderable dilemma. He retreats back into his kitchen before
    reappearing again with the pot of tea, two mismatched cups and
    some saltine% on a tray.
               I hope you'll forgive the
               inelegant presentation. I don't
               entertain much.       ·/·       .

    They've cleared places on the sofa and chair and sit there
Q   sipping their tea.       *

                                                  REV. 10/13/89 p.60
           I can date my interest in science
           precisely, actually. I'd been                                   *
           sent off to boarding school - a
           place perhaps not quite as
           Dickensian as I remember it - when
           I happened to come across the
           periodic table of elements.
                 (smiles at the
           I memorized it. Which I admit was
           a rather precocious thing for a
           seven year old to do. And I
           remember feeling . . . not so much a
           sense of accomplishment . . . as
           comfort. The halogens were what
           they were. The alkali metals were
           what they were. Each element had
           its place, and nothing could                                    *
           change that. They were secure, no                               *
           matter what.                                                    *
 Leonard nods, perhaps more out of politeness than                      *
 understanding. Sayer nods too, feeling, perhaps, a little             *
           You're not married.
* It seems to Sayer a non sequitor.                                        *
He smiles. Sips his tea. Silence except for the ticking of a           *
clock somewhere. Then, very matter of factly -
           I'm not terribly good with people.
           I like them. I wish I could say I
           had more than a rudimentary
           understanding of them.
           Maybe if they were less
           unpredictable . . .
He shrugs. Silence again.
           Eleanor would disagree with you.                                *
Sayer stares at him blankly. He doesn't seem to know who
"Eleanor11 is.                                .                            *

                                                        REV.10/13/89    p.61
-~                   Eleanor?
^r *                           LEONARD
                     Miss Costello.
                     Oh, yes, of course.
                     She's spoken to you about me?
          Leonard nods. Sayer can't imagine why, nor what she might have
          said. Fearing the worst --
                     What'd she say?
                               LEONARD           '
                     That you're a kind man. That you
                     care very much for people.
          Sayer shifts in his chair uncomfortably.
                     But you meant normal people.
          Sayer seems at a loss as to how to respond.   The accompanying
/til**)    silence grows awkward.                                 7

                     We should be getting back.
          Sayer crosses over to the sideboard, to the pairs of glasses,
          stares at them for several moments, and picks up two pairs.
          114.   OMITTED                                                       114
          114A. EXT. PARKING LOT - BAINBRIDGE - DAY                        114A.
          Climbing out of his car, Kaufman sees Sayer striding toward
          him. He glances to the sky, Kaufman, to God, and silently
          complains to Him.
          115.   INT. STAFF CAFETERIA, BAINBRIDGE - LATER - DAY                115
          Cafeteria workers carting serving trays back to the kitchen.
          Nurses and orderlies and office workers at tables with finished'
          meals and cups of coffee. They seem unaware of Drs. Sayer and
          Kaufman at a table near the door.
z^                   When you say expensive, what are
                     we talking about?

               To put them all on the dosage Mr.
               Lowe is on . . . about twenty
               thousand dollars.
     Kaufman stares at Sayer aghast. He knew L-Dopa was expensive,
     but not that expensive. He manages to recover somewhat.
               That would be for how long?
               About a month.
               A month?
     Sayer nods. Kaufman glances away.   Stares blankly at faces at
     other tables. Back to Sayer.
               I can't go before the board with
               that. I could . . .

     He laughs to himself at the futility of it.
               I was thinking of speaking to the
               The few patrons this hospital has
               give what they can.
               Well, we'd have to convince them
               to give more than they*re
               accustomed to giving.

     He hadn't intended as impudent a tone as that which came out.
     More calmly ~
                Perhaps if they saw Mr. Lowe.
     . .;. ·· -; '     ..'·' ' : '. :..;. .,.-, '    ·'    "'    · ·' ·:
                I think you overestimate the
               effect Mr. Lowe has on people.
               We're talking about money here.
     Kaufman sips at his coffee and slowly becomes aware   of the
     silence around them. No one is talking. He glances    up as Miss
     Costello walks by setting something on the table in   front of
     him. She leaves the cafeteria without a word.

CD   Kaufman glances down. She has left a Bainbridge payroll check )\cz>
     made out in her name. Kaufman turns it over. She has endorsed
     it back to Bainbridge Hospital.
     Fernando walks by and    out, leaving his salary check on the
     table. Then Ray, the    pharmacist, leaving his. Then the nurse
     who reluctantly read    "Moby Dick" to the patients. Then a
     cafeteria worker. A     secretary. A clerk. A janitor.
     The cafeteria is soon empty, except for Sayer and Kaufman.
     Long silence.

     116.   INT. BOARD ROOM - NIGHT                                    116
     8mm film of Leonard before L-Dopa -- a wide shot of him
     absolutely motionless in his wheelchair.
                            SAYER O.S.
                There was extreme rigidity of the
                axial musculature . . . only vague
                available motion in the neck . . .
                no voluntary movement in the
                limbs . . .
     A tight shot of Leonard's entranced face appears on the screen.
                          SAYER O.S.
                Perhaps most striking was the
                profound facial masking -- which
                we now know should not have been
                confused with apathy.         *
     Tight on Sayer, the light from the projector flickering on his
               Virtually aphonic, Mr. Lowe could
               articulate no words, but rather
               only, with considerable effort, an
               occasional noise, a kind of,
               "h .. . "
                A                                      ·
     In the darkness sit Kaufman, the rest of the Board of
     Directors, some elderly patrons of the hospital, and, near
     Sayer, Miss Costello. She hands him a scribbled note.
     "Less scientific" it reads.

          Isolated circumstances -- the
          mention of his name, notes of
          particular pieces of music, the
          touch of another human being --
          managed on occasion to briefly
          summon him, but these awakenings
          were rare and transient, lasting
          only a moment or two.
Sayer glances to Miss Costello.   She nods, "Good, that's
          The rest of the time he remained
          in a profoundly eventless place ~
          deprived of all sense of history
          and happening and self --
          encysted, cocooned, enveloped in
          this metaphorical if not
          physiological equivalent of sleep
          . . . or death.
Tight on the screen, on Leonard, as he was. Looking more like
a photograph of a man than a motion picture of one.
          This was his condition when first
          seen by me in a remote bay of this
          hospital. And the quality of his
          life for the last 30 years.
The "before picture" of Leonard on the screen is replaced with
the "after" -- his eyes alert, his hands exploring a desk
microphone. He glances up and off at something.
                      LEONARD (FILM)
                    SAYER'S VOICE
          Whenever you're ready.
                     LEONARD (FILM)
          My name is Leonard Lowe. It has
          been explained to me that I have
          been away for . . . quite some
          time . . .
He seems to withdraw, to wrestle with the thought, to try to
somehow come to terms with it, to somehow resolve it. He nods
as he finds within himself some source of strength and looks
directly at the camera.
                      LEONARD (FILM)
          I'm back.

117.   INT. BOARD ROOM, LATER - NIGHT                            117
The lights are on, the screen rolled up, the board members and
patrons visibly moved, almost shaken, and silent.
Eventually one of the patrons, an old woman, reaches into her
purse for her checkbook and a pen. Another patron, an elderly
man, pulls a checkbook and pen from an inside jacket pocket.
Another already has hers out in front of her ...
Sayer and Miss Costello exchange a glance. The room is
absolutely silent, except for the muted scratch of pens on

The raw L-Dopa powder, 20,000 dollars worth, has arrived. It
sits on a pharmacy counter in large clear bags. Sayer and Ray
peer between racks of medicine at two teenage girls and two
very old men chatting in a corner of the pharmacy.
           They're volunteers from the   :
                                             v                   119.
119.   OMITTED
120.   INT. LEONARD'S DAYROOM - DAY                              120.
Several empty medicine paper-cups. The "garden of stone,"
reassembled. Sayer knows better than to sit and wait, that
nothing is going to immediately happen, but he sits and waits
anyway. As does Miss Costello. As does Leonard and his

121.   INT. STAFF ROOM - NIGHT               .                   121
Sayer asleep on a couch that's too short for him. Miss
Costello asleep on another.
           Dr. Sayer?
Sayer wakes to find a night nurse standing over him.
           What is it?

                                               (continuity only)
121. CONT.                                                             121.
                       NIGHT NURSE
             It's a miracle.

121A. INT. CORRIDOR - NIGHT                                            121A.
They move along a silent corridor that seems to stretch out
forever -- the doctor, the two nurses -- carrying themselves
professionally, with sobriety and restraint. But as they near
the ward, as they're joined by others, other nurses, orderlies,
their steps and hearts quicken. They break into a trot.

They appear at the threshold, Sayer, Miss Costello, the night
nurse, the others, and peer into the darkened room:
In the quiet, in the shadows, in the moonlight filtering in
through the windows, the post-encephalitics are emerging from
their "cocoons," rising from the "dead" like Lazarus from the
earth, reborn.
Moving slowly past the beds: A figure rediscovering the
feeling of her skin; another, the sound of his breath; another,'
the beating of her heart.
A figure still asleep . . . wakes. And for the first time in
nearly half a century sees herself in the world.
Tight on Sayer, on the look of awe on his face as he stares at
the scene going on in the darkened ward. His glance finds
Leonard who is sitting up in his bed, smiling.

123.     INT. LEONARD'S DAYROOM - DAY                                      123,
Tight on Lucy's face, deep in thought, lost in thought. After
several moments of silence, she speaks -
.,:, ·     . :... .        ,.LUCY    V    .   .·       *   .-..        .
             . . . I just had the strapgest
            dream . . .
A cacophony   of off-screen voices - from a radio, the
television,   and the awakened post-encephalitics themselves -
rises up as   another woman, Miriam, moves past Lucy's face. We
follow her,   as does a nurse with a blood pressure guage on
wheels.                                    ,

                                                  11/ b/ aa) tireen   Pg

123.CONT.             NURSE                                           12
            Miriam, please, I - (have to
            check your blood pressure - )
            I've been sitting for 25 years,
            you missed your chance.
Miriam and the nurse trailing after her pass in front of a man *
with no English (Josef) trying to explain something to a couple
of orderlies. One to the other -   .
                      ORDERLY 1
            You're Italian, he's Italian,
            what's the problem?
                      ORDERLY 2
            I was born here - X don't speak ·
Nearby, another man. This one does speak English -
            I want a steak, rare. I want
            mashed potatoes and gravy, string
            beans, a slice of pie and a   '
            chocolate phosphate.
Anthony turns away with the tray he just brought in - broth,
jello and juice - and carries it away, passing the "card
playing nurse," Margaret.
            I think I prefer them the other
Having settled on Margaret: she smiles, glances to "her"
patient, Rose, who, staring at her reflection in a hand mirror,
tugs at her grey hair.
            And some dye. Black.
                 (jotting down the
            Black, are you sure?
            And some clothes . . . my. clothes.

                                                                    i.1/ b/«y)Green       Pg.

123.CONT.                                          -                                      123
Sh e p ull s at he r f ade d s hape les s d res s w ith gre at dis dai n.
              Who put me in this?

A be wi ld er ed m an o n st if f l eg s (F RA NK ) wa lk s by . Fo ll ow in g
h im , we c at c h a gl i m ps e of a D u tc h wo m an i n a wh e el c h ai r , w i t h
a nurse -

                         MAG DA
              ... t he garden er, he mus t prune
              the fruit trees ... the roses . . .
              I think he's forget . . .

- be f or e se t t li n g o n M i s s C o st e ll o wi t h a ma n wh o se e ms l os t in
a w or ld o f hi s ow n, h is he ad n od di ng s li gh tl y t o mu si c fr om a n
unseen radio.

                           M I SS C OS TE LL O
              Ca n you s pe ak to me , Ro lan do ?
              Ro lan do, it' s M iss Co ste llo. C an
              yo u u nde rsta nd me?

Ap p a r e nt l y n ot . A fi g u r e bl u r s pa s t . An d a m om e n t la t e r ,
an oth er, t he nu rse w ith t he pr ess ure g auge , sti ll tr ail ing
af te r Mi ri am. T he c ame ra f ol low s th em -

                         NUR SE
              Miriam ... Miriam . . .

- befor e set tling on a man , Des mond, doin g a soft- shoe.
Le on ar d, a nd a f ew o th e rs , wa tc h. Fr an k bl ur s b y ag ai n, p as se s
a w oman , Fra ncis, sort of l ost, seat ed Wi th a nurse :

                           F RANCIS
              . . . I was aware of things, but
              no thi ng mea nt a nyt hin g, the re w as
              no connection to me.
                     (vagu e recollec tion:)
              There was a war . . .
              ... or two . . .

Mi ss C os te ll o no ti ce s F ra nk , st an di ng n ea rb y, lo ok in g pu zz le d.

                              M IS S C OS T EL LO
              F r a nk ? A r e y o u al l r i gh t ?

                           FRANK                       <
              M y wi fe a nd s on .     A re th ey w el l?

                                               xu/ os > vaU.bL>£NKUD           Pg.6
123.CONT.                                                          123.
Hiss Costello finds herself at a loss for a moment . . .
                    MISS COSTELLO
          We'll find them for you.     We'll
          track them down.
Lucy again, Sayer still at her side.
          . . . I called to my sister, but she
          couldn't hear me. No one could
          hear me. I was alone . . .
          And then I woke up.
She smiles. Sayer tries to. He hesitates ... but finally
can't help asking her -                                                ·
          Lucy, what year is it?
          What year is it? You don't know?
He shakes his head 'no.' She glances around the place, then
leans close to him and whispers -
                     MIRIAM O.S.
          DoctorI   Doctor!                                      .
                                          *                                ,
Sayer turns to the urgent voice, concerned, and sees Miriam
flanked by a large group of staff from other parts of the
hospital gathered at the threshold of the room.
          I walked all the way over there.
          And back. What a perfect day.
The group at the doorway applauds, and it CARRIES OVER:

123A. OMITTED                                              123A.
123B. INT- CORRIDOR - SAME TIME - DAY                      123B. *
The corridor, and the sound of a woman's voice, very faint,   .*
from somewhere unseen:                                           *
                     PAULA O.S.
          " . . . Like crowds storming the                                       *
          Bastille ...                                                           *

124.-128.    OMITTED                                           124.-12
Sidney bursts into the room out of breath and scans the faces
of the awakened post-encephalitics and staff. He spots Sayer,
seated with a woman, her back to him and the door. She slowly
turns to look over her shoulder and, seeing Sidney, smiles.
            Hi, Sidney.
There's a kind of hush. Conversations, activities cease.
Everyone is looking at Sidney. Not knowing what else to say,
he manages a hesitant --
            Hi.        i
He smiles and crosses toward her, but by the time he reaches
her the smile has disappeared. Something troubling has
occurred to him. He glances to Sayer and whispers --
            Is it real . . . or . . .
                      SAYER              :

            As real as real can be.

                                                                  f123B.CONT.                              ,                      123B
Leonard, moving along the corridor with Saver's camera and
tripod (or looking for something to read at the magazine table)
slows and listens:
                      PAULA O.S.
             . . . the Mighty Mets stormed
           their locker room shortly after
           nine o'clock on their night to
           remember -
He moves toward the voice, traces it to a crafts area, where a
young woman is reading from the sports page to an older man
tied to his wheelchair.
Though it's doubtful the man is even aware of her presence, she
reads to him as if her were, and in the process, draws Leonard
into the sound of her words until there are no sounds but her
           "Released from bondage and
           ridicule after seven destitute
           seasons, they raised the roof of
           Shea Stadium - while their fans
           attempted to dismantle it - in one
           of the loudest, wildest victory
           celebrations in baseball     :
           history - "         ._
The reverie is suddenly shattered, the real sounds of the
hospital rising back up, as Sidney, wild with excitement, bangs
through the far doors of the corridor. He sprints past the
crafts area, past Leonard, runs the entire length of the
corridor, and -

124-128.   OMITTED
129.   INT. LEONARD'S DAYROOM - CONTINUED - DAY                    1
Sidney bursts into the room out of breath and scans the faces
of the awakened post-encephalitics and staff. He spots Sayer,
seated with a woman, her back to him and the door. She slowly
turns to look over her shoulder and, seeing Sidney, smiles.
           Hi, Sidney.
There's a kind of hush. Conversations, activities cease.
Everyone is looking at Sidney. Not knowing what else to say,
he manages a hesitant --

                                                . x x / x u / o ; I V a U i i U & e mU U   J r* g »

       129.CONT.                                                                             129
       He smiles and crosses toward her, but by the time he reaches
       her the smile has disappeared. Something troubling has
       occurred to him. He looks to Sayer and whispers --
                   Is it real ... or . . .
                   As real as real can be.
       Sidney lowers himself to his knees before Lolly and, weeping
       quietly, rests his head on her lap. She strokes his head.

                                                   FADE TO BLACK

       130.   INT. CORRIDOR - ANOTHER DAY                                                      13
       Sidney and Lolly emerge from the dayroom, followed by the other
       post-encephalitics. They're all wearing suits and dresses and
       walk with purpose past wheelchair-bound patients with
       "uninteresting" diseases.
       As they wait for the elevator, Leonard wanders slightly down
       the corridor to see if the girl is there again reading in the
       crafts area. The chair she was in is empty.

       130A. INT. ELEVATOR & CORRIDOR - MOMENTS LATER - DAY                                  130
       The elevator door slides open revealing them. Paula, inside,
       hesitates: the sight is almost surreal. >As they crowd in, she
       wedges out, and down the hall, Leonard watching after her.
                   Len - come on.
       Leonard steps into the elevator, the last one in.

       131.   EXT. BAINBRIDGE -SAME DAY                                                        13
       They're going on a field trip. As they're escorted onto an
       idling hospital bus, Leonard, outside it, tries to reason with
       his mother:
                             MRS. LOWE
                   Sidney's going.
                   He's a patient, Mom.
A3                            MRS. LOWE
                              MRS. LOWE
C -j               He's not the same kind of patient.

                                                         XX / XU /O y / V aU J jU K NK U D    P

        131.CONT.                           .                                                13
                    He's still a patient.       You're not
                    a patient.
                              MRS. LOWE
                    I'm your mother.
        Inside the bus, Miriam, anxious to leave, leans over the driver
        to honk the horn. Leonard kisses his mother on the cheek and
        turns away.
                             MRS. LOWE
                  Wait a minute.
                        (he turns back)
                  What on earth have you done to
                  your hair?
        He's parted it, apparently, on the "wrong" side. She pulls a
        comb from her purse, recombs it "correctly," straightens his
        jacket lapels and steps back.                          '
                              MRS. LOWE
                    There's your bus.                .
        The public bus, behind her, coming down the street. As she
        hurries to the corner, Sayer climbs down off the hospital bus.
                  I've decided not to go.
        He waves to his mother. Sayer stares at him.
                    I'm staying here.
                    Why? What's wrong?
                    Nothing. Wave.
        He waves again to his mother; she's boarding the public bus.
        Sayer does as he's told, waves too. Impatient, Miriam honks
        the horn again.
'(_J)               Let's go, already.

131.C0NT.                                .                        131
As the public bus pulls away, Leonard pats Sayer on the
           I'll see you later, have a good
He climbs the hospital steps and disappears inside, Sayer
staring after him. Miriam honks the horn again, and he climbs
aboard. The doors hiss shut and driver turns to him.
                       BUS DRIVER
           Where to?
Sayer suddenly realizes he has no idea "where to." He glances
over his shoulder at the expectant faces of the patients, all
dressed up with nowhere to go. It's up to him . . .
His face brightens; he's thought of a good place.

Moving slowly toward a herd of still and silent elephants in a
cavernous, darkened room.
As a nun counts the heads of parochial school children filing
past the huge beasts, Miss Costello counts the heads of the
Both come up short and glance frantically around.
                      NUN                    v
                      MISS COSTELLO
           Dr. Sayer?

A lifeless polar bear in a diorama "stares" out at Sayer who's
peering in, intrigued. Miss Costello appears at his side.
                    MISS COSTELLO
          It's very hard to keep everyone
          together, doctor.
          Has someone wandered off?
                       MISS COSTELLO

                                             (REV.11/10/89)GOLDENROD       Pg.

        132A.CONT.                                                           1
.,->,     She leads him away by the arm.
CO                                                          .          .
        133.   INT. SIDNEY'S DAYROOM - SAME DAY                             13
        A dayroom thick with inactivity. And the voice:
                              PAULA O.S.
                   "From the sleek skyscrapers
                   of Wall Street where a tickertape
                   blizzard filled the sky . . .
        From the doorway, from a distance, Leonard watches Paula across
        the room with her father, reading to him again from the
                   " . . . to the undistinguished
                   bars of a hundred neighborhoods,
                   New York yesterday went pleasantly
                   mad over the World Champion
                   Mets . . .
                                                        '   ·
        133A. INT. PATIENTS' CAFETERIA - LATER - DAY                       133
        Paula moving along the serving line with a tray. Leonard, next
        in line, moving along with his tray, a little too close. He
        steals a glance.
                   You following me?               *
        Startled and embarrassed, Leonard withdraws.
                   I'm kidding. I'm sorry. I saw
                   you upstairs . . . just now.
        Leonard nods without looking at her.
                   Visiting someone?
                   No.                                 ·
                   You work here.

                   I live here.

                                         (REV.11/10/89)GOLDENROD   Pg.75
133A.CONT.                                    .                     133
             You're a patient?
He admits it with a nod, lags back again, and eventually dares       *
another glance at her.
             You don't look like a patient.
             I don't?
She smiles and shakes her head 'no.1

Leonard and Paula at a table. At other tables are patients who
do look like patients.
             I don't know if he knows I
             visit him or not. I don't know
             that he knows who I am. My mother
             doesn't think so. She doesn't;
             come around any more--
             But you do.
             Sometimes I think I see something.                          *
             I think I see a change. And for a                           *
             second, I see him like he was . . .                         *
She smiles at the memory of her father like he was . . . but then   *
it's gone and her smile fades.
             Does that make any sense?
A slow nod from him . . .                                  ·             *
             Yes.                                              ·         *
His tone is that of someone speaking of a fact, rather than          *
offering an opinion. She studies him . . . and eventually:           *
             Why are you here?

                                                (REV.11/10/89)GOLDENROD           Pg
         He doesn't know how to begin to explain it to her.
'                   I receive medication.
,        She waits for more, but it doesn't come.           Only a smile.
,                   I'm okay now.
    *           -                                   '
         135.   OMITTED                                                               1
         136.   INT. NATURAL HISTORY MUSEUM - ANOTHER ROOM - DAY                  13
,   .   The post-encephalitics filing past still figures in African ·
,        ceremonial costumes and masks.
                              NUN O.S.                                          '"'
                               MISS COSTELLO O.S.
                    Dr. Sayer?

         136A. INT. ANOTHER ROOM - NATURAL HISTORY MUSEUM - DAY                  136
         A working display of a tide pool. Anthony's reflection joins
         Sayer's in the glass.
                    I've always loved tide pools,
                    haven't you?
         Anthony doesn't answer. He seems troubled.
                    What is it?
                    You chose this place?
                         (Sayer nods)
                         (pause)                        ,
                    I come here all the time.

                                               (REV.11/10/89)GOLDENROD    Pg.
        136A.CONT.                              .
        Sayer glances away, sees Miss Costello coming.      She looks a
        little irritated. As she arrives -
ti^                          SAYER
                   Miss Costello, I think Anthony
                   thinks they're bored.
        He says it like, Have you ever heard anything so ridiculous?
                               MISS COSTELLO
                   They are.
        Sayer, taken aback, glances back to Anthony, whose look says,
        There you go.
                   I ' d thought about the opera house.
                   Do you think they'd prefer that?
                   The opera house?
                   The Botanical Gardens?
        Anthony looks to Miss Costello and rolls his eyes.
y5?.               Well, where else is there?

        Roseland's Big Band belting out "That Old Black Magic."
        On the dancefloor, the post-encephalitics dance with one
        another amidst "normal" middle-aged and older couples, all
        having a great time.
        At the bar, Sayer tries to get the attention of a young
        bartender busy mixing drinks. Watching, it slowly dawns on
        Rose that something is "wrong" here. More to herself -
                   It's legal again?
                              MISS COSTELLO
                   For some time now.
        Rose is delighted; she can hardly believe it.      She gets the
        bartender's attention.
 -( )                       ROSE
                  A Rob Roy on the rocks.


                137.CONT.                              .
               The young bartender has to think a moment. Rose turns back to
                watch the action on the dance floor. Gesturing to Rose, Miss
                 Costello whispers to the bartender -
                                    MISS COSTELLO
                          A Shirley Temple.

               Leonard and Paula crossing toward the front doors. She's just
               chatting but he's taking it seriously.
                          Things happen, people are late.
                          They won't be angry.
                          Oh, they'll be angry. What're
                          they going to do, fire me?
               He doesn't realize she's not asking him. He has to shrug that
               he doesn't know.
    ,                               PAULA      _          :

    (U*T                  I'll just take the graveyard.
               Her look to him says, Right? He has no idea what she means,
               but finally nods in agreement.
               They're almost to the doors.      She offers her hand to him.
               He shakes the hand gently, lets it go.
                         Thanks for talking to me.            ·
               She steps away toward the door.
                          He knows.

                                                 (REV.11/10/89)GOLDENROD    Pg.7
           138.CONT.                                                        138
           She glances back at him.     She's not sure what he means.
                        ·         LEONARD
                       Your father. He knows you visit
            Whether he's saying it just to be nice doesn't matter to her.
            It's what she wants to believe. She smiles gratefully.
                      I'll see you.
            She leaves.

            138A. OMITTED
           · 139.   INT. ROSELAND - LATER - EVENING                         139.
            The band in the middle of "You Hade Me Love You."
            At the bar -
                       Is he betrothed, do you know?
           Miss Costello doesn't know who she could possibly mean. She
  ,-       follows her sightline to the opposite wall, to a chair, to
           Sayer sitting alone.
                                 MISS COSTELLO
                       Not that I know of. I kind of
                       doubt it.
           Rose gets up and crosses toward Sayer. Seeing her coming, he
           smiles ... but the smile slowly begins to fade as she sings to
                      You made me love you
                      I didn't want to do it               ·
                      I didn't want to do it . . .
           Singing as she does it, she pulls him out of his chair.
           Embarrassed, he resists, but she finally gets on the dance
           floor. Never more mortified in his life (it seems as if
           everyone is watching) he "dances . . . "
           And the band finishes the song.             '

' (")

                                    (REV.11/10/89)GOLDENROD   . Pg.76
                                     (continuity only)
                                                                 . 14
140.   OMITTED
 141. INT.- CORRIDOR & LEONARD'S WARD                             14
Returning from their night out, happy and satisfied, the post-
encephalitics come down a quiet corridor, trailed by their
Passing the examination room, Sayer hears faint typing, and

Sayer steps into the room to find a figure hunched over his
typewriter in a pool of lamplight. Glancing over to the door,
the figure is revealed to be Leonard.


                     LEONARD                                      "
          Everybody have a good time?
Leonard doesn't wait for the answer, returns to his typing.
Sayer comes closer.
           What are you doing?
He peers over Leonard's shoulder to read what he's typing, and
a slow smile crosses his face.
                       SAYER V.O.
           "One - typewriters and writing
           supplies in all dayrooms at all
           times . . .

Drifting slowly across the faces of Kaufman, the director and
the other board members as Sayer reads to them from a
typewritten sheet of paper --
                      SAYER                  ;
           " . . . Two - music and dance
           classes for those patients who
           desire them. Three - technical
           courses for those who wish to
           learn a trade. Four - patients'
           grievance committees. Five - the
           same food in the patients'
           cafeteria as in the staff's. Six
           . . . " and I happen to think this is
           an excellent idea, "the
           establishment of a permanent
           hospital library. And "Seven -
           televisions that work."

Sayer sets the paper down on the table --
           "Respectfully, Leonard Lowe."
-- and listens to the silence.    It's a long one.

144.   INT. BASEMENT - BAINBRIDGE - DAY                          144.
Rumbling furnaces. The boiler room. Exposed conduit and pipes
and ducts on the ceiling like tangled roots of an enormous
metal tree.

                                                   (REV.11/22/89)CHERRY      Pg
           144.CONT.                                                          I
          A subterranean corridor. Deserted except for Sayer and Leonard
              145.   INT. BASEMENT OPERATING THEATRE - DAY                       1
          A dusty anatomical skeleton shrouded in fdarkness is suddenly
          illuminated as Sayer yanks down a sheet covering a high window.
          Yanking down another, a second shaft of light falls on old
          discarded surgical tables and equipment.
          Brain surgeries were once routinely performed here back in a
          time when they held out hope for docile patients and dociled
          the rest. Used only for storage now, its floor and tiers of
          observation benches! are covered with boxes and files and broken
          Leonard stares in at the eerie room and listens to the distant
,         muted drone of the furnaces. He feels as though he's been here
,    .   before. Maybe he has, long ago. Quietly ~
                     What is this place?
                     It's your library.
          Sayer pulls down another sheet and more light spills in.
                     It'll take some fixing up     »
                     obviously. A thorough cleaning
                     to begin with. Some desks. Books                ·
                     of course.
          Leonard's glance slowly moves across the dim room, settling
          finally on Sayer, who's smiling.
                     They agreed to find the money for
                     it. And to my suggestion that you
                     oversee it and select the books.

         146.    INT. LEONARD'S DAYROOM - DAY                                14
          Fingers on the keys of a piano, Sayer's baby grand, moved here
     ·    from his house. Rolando, oblivious to the world, at it playing
     )   a simple yet emotional melody.

                                    (REV.11/22/89)CHERRY   Pg.7
                                    "(continuity only)
                                               *     *
            He's still hasn't talked?
                      MISS COSTELLO
            We think he got sick before he
            learned how to talk.


                                          (REV.11/14/89)Salmon   Pg.79

146.CONT.                                                        146.
Listening to the music a moment more, she corrects herself:             *
                     MISS COSTELLO
          To talk with words.
Close on two nurses, across the room.
                     NURSE 1
          She's the daughter of the nephew
          of a Dutch archduke. She's
She's referring to Magda, who glances over as if sensing
they're talking about her. They drop their voices:
                      BETH                               ·
           He's dead, this duke?
                      NURSE 1
           He's been dead a hundred years.
           Then forget it, I'm not curtsying.
Lucy, wearing "stylish" new glasses, smiles as Sayer listens to
her heartbeat through a stethoscope. Satisfied with it, he
makes a notation in her chart.
          Can I have your hand?
                      LUCY                 \
          Yes, you can have my hand.
                (she holds it out
                 to him)
          Take me away from this place.                           .
He smiles uneasily.
          I'm your doctor, Lucy.
          You're my Prince Charming.
Close on hands rapidly dealing 3-Card Monte. The cards
eventually settle, and the hand of someone else hesitates over
them before gingerly tapping one. As it's turned over:
          There it is.
 The orderly snaps his finger in triumph. The 3-Card Monte
dealer, a dextrous encephalitic, shrugs.

                                         (REV.11/14/89)Salmon    Pg.80

 146.CONT.                                        .              146.
                     LUIS                                                 *
          Another tough break for me.                                     *
The orderly reaches to rake another dollar into his pile.                 *
There's a nice watch on the wrist. Luis smiles to himself.                *
                       MARGARET O.S.                                      *
             I don't know how to say this,                                *
             Miriam, so I ' m just going to say                           *
Miriam waits, but Margaret doesn't immediately say it.                    *
             Your husband?                                                *
                   (Miriam nods)                                          *
             He was granted a divorce from                                *
             you in 1953.                                         ,       *
Margaret almost grimaces, anticipating hysteria. Instead, a               *
slow smile crosses Miriam's face.                                         *
                          MIRIAM                                          *
             Thank God.                                                   *
Pliers, tin snips and a pile of found objects on a table.                 *
Josef is there, fashioning strange and beautiful toys from the            *
junk.                                                                     *
                          NURSE 2                                         *
             Francis?                                                     *
Francis turns to find the nurse standing with a 20 year old               *
girl who's holding a toddler by the hand.                                 *
                        NURSE 2                                           *
             Your daughter.                                               *
Francis smiles at the toddler, mistaking her for the daughter.            *
                          DAUGHTER                                        *
             Hi, mom.                                                     *
Francis' glance comes up to meet the 20 year old's, shifts down       *
to the toddler again, comes back up.                                   *
                          FRANCIS                                         *
             Of course . . .                      '                       *
From across the room, Frank watches Francis hug her "actual               *
daughter," glances to Rose who has been reunited with a few old       *
 girlfriends, to Desmond with his son and daughter-in-law and             *
 their teenage kids, and to Sidney and Lolly in a corner.                 *

                                             (REV.11/14/89)Salmon   Pg.80A
    146.CONT.                                                        146.

                How's it going, Frank?
    Frank glances blankly at Anthony and another orderly, who are
    hanging out nearby with Bert, passing around a Road & Track
                How's it "going?"
                How do you feel?
                How do I feel?
                My parents are dead. My wife is       I
                in an institution. My son has
                disappeared ... "Out West"
                I feel old and I feel swindled,
                that's how I feel.
    Anthony glances at the others with a why-did-I-ask kind of
    look. Frank wanders away.
                     ,      BERT
                 He is old.
    So is Bert, though he doesn't feel it. As far as he's
    concerned, he's still twenty years old. He glances back at the
                Pontiac Firebird, 350 engine, now
                there's a car, Bert.
                Firebird . . .
    He likes the sound of it.       Tight on the picture in the
    Rough sketches and balsa wood models of the operating theatre-      *
    proposed library on a table. Leonard working on them.
                Hi, Leonard.
    Leonard glances up from his work. His mother glances up from
    her magazine. One of them is delighted to see the girl.

                                     (REV.11/22/89)CHERRY          Pg.81

146A.    INT. OPERATING THEATRE / LIBRARY - LATER - DAY            14 6A.
The anatomical skeleton being dragged across the flpor like the
lifeless thing that it is.
                      MOVER 1
            Excuse me, ma'am.                  .
Paula steps aside as the guy goes past her and Leonard with the
rattling bones.
            . . . bookcases there . . . there . . .
            take some of these benches out . . .
            maybe have a ramp over here . . .
He's not exactly sure where everything is going to go, but he's
proud of it. Gesturing to the operating lamp hovering from
above like a giant spider
            I'm going to get rid of this
The thing is so unbelievably macabre they have to grimace.
Another mover comes past dollying out old: operating equipment.
                      MOVER 2
            Excuse me, ma'am*
147.    OMITTED
148.    INT. EXAMINATION ROOM - DAY                                  148.
Mrs. Lowe, slowly pacing.
        *             MRS. LOWE
            He never talked about girls
            before. He certainly never had
            anything to d£ with them.
She casts around trying to come to terms with it.
                      MRS. LOWE
            It's a bit ridiculous all this
            girl business, don't you think? A
            grown man like him?
She looks to Sayer for confirmation.        Sayer manages a nod.
                      MRS. LOWE
            You know what he said? I should
            take a vacation. I should go away
            for a few days and "relax."

                                       (REV.11/22/89)CHERRY      Pg.82
                                        (continuity only)
 148.CONT.              SAYER
             Maybe you should.
                   (she shoots him a
             I'm sure he meant you deserve a
             vacation. Which you do.
                        MRS. LOWE          ^
             I can't leave him alone in this
             place. He'd die without me.
Sayer "agrees" with a sympathetic nod, but suspects it is she
who would die if she left. She resumes pacing, and mutters to
herself the bitter-tasting word:
                           MRS. LOWE
             Girls . . .

149.   INT. SAYER'S HOUSE - NIGHT                                 149.
Sayer in bed, asleep with a book on his chest and his
indestructible reading glasses on his face. The phone rings.
He groans and gropes for it, puts the receiver to his ear.
                           SAYER               :
                       LEONARD'S VOICE
             I think we should organize a
             speaking tour.
Sayer, more asleep than awake, can't be sure that what he's
hearing, who he's hearing, is real.
150.   INT. EXAMINATION ROOM - SAME TIME - NIGHT                  150.
Leonard, wide awake, alone in the room. He's seated at Sayer's
desk with Sayer's office phone to his ear.
             I think it's important. I think
             it's important some things were
                       SAYER'S VOICE
             What kind of things?


                   Things that matter. Things that
                   have happened to me. Things I've
                   cone to understand. Things.

        151.   INT. SAYER'S HOUSE - CONTINUED - NIGHT                   151
        Sayer is gradually coining to. He glances at his clock. It's
        like three o'clock in the morning.
                   Where are you calling from?
                             LEONARD'S VOICE
                   Your office.
                             SAYER                      i
                   It's very late, Leonard.
                             LEONARD'S VOICE
                   Is it?
        Sayer nods to himself that it is. That fact and that Leonard
        has apparently felt compelled to call him to discuss "things"
        concerns him.                          :

                  Stay there. I'm coming over.
                              LEONARD'S VOICE
                  Good.                          *
        Dial tone. Sayer listens to it a moment before slowly setting
        the receiver back on its cradle.

        152.   INT. EXAMINATION ROOM - LATER - NIGHT                    152
        Dressed haphazardly, hair messed up, eyes still a little
        unfocussed, Sayer resembles more a patient than doctor. Clean
        and alert, Leonard appears rather more "doctor-like."
                          ;                                 N

                  Read a newspaper, people have
                  forgotten what life is all about.
                  They've forgotten what it is to be
                  alive. They need to be reminded.
                  They need to be reminded what they
                  have, what they can lose, what I
                  feel, this, the, the, the . . .
<( ")
        His mind seems to be racing ahead of his mouth's ability to

           . . . the joy, the freedom, the
           spaciousness of life, the gift of
           life. This is what they've
           forgotten. This is what they need
           to remember. This is what we'll
           tell them.
Leonard waits for a reaction to his idea, his "Gospel According
to L-Dopa" lecture tour. Sayer can manage only an uncertain

153.   INT . THE PHAR MACY - DA Y    >                            153.

Amidst the thousands of bottles and jars of medicines, Sayer
wonders out loud to Ray --
           I don't know if it's liberation or
           mania or love.
           With me?- I never know. ·
           What he says is absolutely true.
           We don't really live.
               . (pause)
           Does that mean there's something
           wrong with him or us?
The balance of the pharmaceutical scale wavers like the sword
of Damocles.
                       SAYER & RAY
154.   OMITTED
155.   OMITTED                                                    155.
156.   INT. LEONARD'S DAYROOM - NIGHT                             156
A night janitor with a cleaning cart peers into the darkened
room at Leonard standing at a window looking out.
                     JANITOR     .
           Mr. Lowe?
                (Leonard glances
           Are you all right?

                                           REV. 12/12/89 (PINK)          Pg.85
      156.CONT.                                     .               156.
     The janitor wheels his cart back down the corridor. Leonard
       stares back out the window, at what lies beyond the grounds of *
       the hospital . . . the glittering lights of the Manhattan *
     157-158. OMITTED
     159.   INT. BOARD ROOM - DAY                ,                            159.
     Drifting slowly across the faces of the board members again,
     and across Sayer -
                            LEONARD O.S.
                I ' m thankful to everyone in this                                  *
                room . . . I was dead, and you                                      *
                brought me back ...                                                 *
     - and reaching Leonard, standing at the head of the table.                 *
               I ' m thankful, but what I need now
               isn't here.
                  .    .   .   .
     Silence. And, eventually, since no one else asks it:
               Where is it?                      :

                           LEONARD ·
     Kaufman and Sayer and the others follow Leonard's gesture to *
     the windows.
                Mr. Lowe, I ' m sorry, I ' m afraid I
                don't understand. What is it                                        *
                you want now?                                                       *
                The simplest thing.
                      (somehow doubting it
                       will be simple)
                And what is that?
                I want to know that I'm free
                to go for a walk, if I feel like
                it. Like any normal person.
     The board members glance among themselves.         They seem relieved.
{V   That is a simple request.

                                        REV. 12/12/89 (PINK)          Pg.8

     159.CONT.             KAUFMAN                                    159.

                 I am?
                       (Kaufman's shrug says
                        "of course")
     Now there's a pause. And Leonard's hand makes a gesture to his *
     face, to his brow. He ignores it (or is unaware of it).        *
                 What difference does that make?
                 I think you know.
                 I don't know. Tell me.
                       (right back)
                 It makes all the difference.
     He brushes at his brow again. Sayer studies him, or rather the
     tic itself as it repeats.
                           LEONARD          -                            *
                 You didn't wake a thing, you woke                       *
                 a person. I ' m a person.     »                         *
                 Mr. Lowe? I wonder . . . are you
                 at all aware of the unconscious
                 hostility you're exhibiting
                 towards us right now?                                   *
     Kaufman glances over to the psychiatrist, weary. The look on *
     Leonard's face is complete innocence; and his tone completely *
     without innuendo -
                 How could I be aware of something
                 that's unconscious?              *
     Sayer smiles to himself. So does Kaufman. The psychiatrist *
     doesn't.                                                  **
                 I 'm curious . . . I can tell this is
                 important to you but I ' m not sure
                 why. What would you do if you
                 went out?

                                     REV.12/12/89 (PINK)            Pg.86A

     159.CONT.               LEONARD                                  159.
                 I don't know, what would you do
                 if you were me?
                        (his patience
                 I ' m hot you. Enlighten me.
                 I ' d walk around. I ' d talk to
                 people, I ' d look at things. I' d
                 decide whether I wanted to go this
                 way, or that way, or keep going
                 straight. I ' d do the things you
                 do everyday and take for granted.
     Long silence. Then:
                 I'll tell you what, we'll take it
                 under consideration. We'll let
                 you know.

     Leonard at a table. Waiting. Sayer appears. Sits.
                 Yeah, I was aware of it.     ·
                       (the tic)
                 I was nervous. It's nothing.
                 What'd they say?
                 They said it's a dangerous place
                 out there. They said they can't
                 be held responsible for what might
                 happen to you out there. They
                 said no.
     Leonard nods, sips his coffee, seems to take the decision in
                 And what did you say?
                 They don't have to listen to me.
                 Did you agree with them?

Leonard nods again, philosophically it seems.
           I ' m not sure we're out of the
           woods yet, Leonard. I'm not sure
           this is nothing.
                  (the tic)
           I have to be sure you're well.
           There'll be time enough -
Leonard gets up out of his chair --
-- and turns to leave.
           Leonard ...
Leonard ignores him and walks out --      :

Leonard striding down a corridor.    Sayer hurrying* after him.
           Where are you going?
           For a walk.
           Leonard . . .
Leonard ignores him.
           Leonard . . .
Leonard disappears around a corner. Sayer veers off to a
hospital phone and picks it up. Into it -
           This is Dr. Sayer . . .

                                      (REV. 11/22/89) CHERRY       Pg.8.8

162.   INT. CORRIDORS / LOBBY - DAY                                  162.
Faces of patients in wheelchairs blur as Leonard runs past
them. In another corridor faces blur as orderlies rush past
them. In another corridor faces blur as Sayer runs.
Leonard reaches the lobby just ahead of the orderlies. They
try to be gentle with him but when he fights to free himself it
it gets out of control. Sayer appears.
           Let go of him.
The orderlies don't know what to do. They're just trying to
restrain Leonard but he's making it almost impossible.
           Leonard, stop fighting.
He keeps fighting. He can see the outside through the glass
doors, so close, so far.
           Let ao of him.                                      .
They pull him back, away from the doors, into the corridor
behind them.         .

163.   INT. EXAMINATION ROOM - DAY                                   163.
Tight on Sayer, staring at the floor, despondent.
                     MRS. LOWE O.S.
           I don't understand it, he was
           never any trouble before.
Kaufman, too, is there, and Miss Costello. Kaufman watches            *
                     MRS. LOWE
          He was quiet: and polite and
          respectful. He never demanded
          anything. He was never
          He was catatonic, Mrs. Lowe.
He seems to say it more for Kaufman's benefit; regardless, she
doesn't care for his tone.
                    MRS. LOWE
          I'm speaking of when he was a boy.


        163.CONT.                SAYER                                        163
fT~\                Of course.
                               MRS. LOWE
                          (to Kaufman)
                    He was always nice-minded when he
                    was a boy.                    ^
       Kaufman nods, studies Sayer.
                              MRS. LOWE
                    I don't know who that is up there.
                    I don't think he knows.
                         (to Sayer)
                    You've turned Leonard into
                    something he is not.

                                                                        ,. 164
       Coming up a flight of stairs, 1930's music can be heard.          ,,
       Reaching a caged landing the orderly escorting Sayer unlocks*
       door, leads him along a short corridor to another door and
       unlocks that one.

  *    165.   INT. WARD 5 DAYROOM - CONTINUOUS - DAY                          165
       An old black and white musical blaring from a television bolted
       to the ceiling. Young male patients, subdued with Thorazine,
       vacantly staring at it.                   >
       Sayer comes in, finds Leonard in one of the chairs, and kneels
       to gain some confidentiality. Leonard cranes slightly to see
       around him, to see the television.
                    This is a mistake. It's wrong
                    and it's cruel and it should never
                    have happened like this - but you
                    have to understand - nothing quite
                    like this has happened before, no
                    one knows what to do . . . Leonard,
                    please don't ignore me.
       Leonard condescends a look to him. A moment and Sayer smiles
       at a thought:                        ,
                    I wish you could just walk out
                    like that. I wish it were that

                                    (REV.11/22/89)CHERRY            Pg»9

 165.CONT.                LEONARD           /                       165.
                    is.                                               .
 Sayer's smile fades. Leonard glances back to the set. Tight
  on the screen: Fred Astaire and Ginger Rodgers dancing.

Light glows in only a few of the windows.
In one, on the third floor, the examination room, a figure in        .*
silhouette (Sayer), stares out.
In another, on the fifth floor, a second figure in silhouette
(Leonard), behind bars, slowly paces.

166A. INT. WARD 5 DAYROOH - DAY                                  166A.
The blaring TV again. Suddenly the picture goes dark.
Leonard, who turned it off, climbs down off a chair and faces
the "somnambulant" men who were "watching."
Moving along their chairs he considers each much as Sayer
considered the post-encephalitic "garden of stone." Reaching
 one stretched out across three chairs, asleep, Leonard

 gently nudges him.                                         .
             Wake up.
167-163. OMITTED                                                167-169
169A-. INT. ELEVATOR & CORRIDOR                                 169A.
The elevator door slides open revealing an orderly with several *
trays of untouched food on a cart. Kaufman steps in and the
door slides shut. Descending:
          I guess they're not hungry.
Kaufman nods distractedly, not really listening. The orderly
begins whistling a tune to himself. Kaufman glances over long-
sufferingly, quieting him. The door slides open, and the young
man wheels the cart past Kaufman. Finally:                     ~
             Ward 5.
The door slides shut.

                                              (REV.11/22/89)CHERRY           , Pg

(7~)   170.    OMITTED                                                       170
        171.   INT. WARD 5 DAYROOM - DAY                                     171
       Leonard paces before the entire Ward 5 population, gathered
       like the blind and the sick under a revivalist's tent.
                   It isn't us that's defective,
                   it's them. We're not in crisis,
                   they are. We've been through the
                   worst that can happen to a person
                   and survived it. They haven't.
                   They fear it. And they hide from
                   their fear by hiding us, because
                   they know, they know . . .
       The men wa it for the rest, but L eonard loses his tra in of
       t ho ugh t. F ru str at ed, h is t ics r es urf ac e and ela bor at e. H e
       seems unaware of them. To one of the men:                             .
                  How long have you been here?            *
                        (the man shrugs)
                  You don't know? A month, a year?               .
sj^                  (he doesn't know)
(^7             Whv are you here?
       He doesn't know that, either. To another patient:
                            LEONARD                -
                  How do you feel being locked up?
                             WARD 5 PATIENT
                   I don't like it.
                  You don't like it? Aren't you an
                            WARD 5 PATIENT
                  I'm no animal.
                  Then why are you in a cage?
       The man's getting agitated . . . they all are. Leonard stops
       pacing, faces them, and almost whispers:
                  Anger . . .

                                     REV.12/13/89 (YELLOW)           Pg.9
171.CONT.                                                             171.
Silence ... and suddenly, loudly, exploding:
           That's what you feel ... anger!
The men erupt in a burst of noisy approval; they cone alive.
Tight on Kaufman on the other side of the "cage," watching.
And, over the din -
                      SAYER V.O.
           He's lived for thirty years in
           abjection and defeat . . .

Sayer and Kaufman alone in the room, arguing -
           - He's lived for thirty years
           without the ability to release his
           anger -
           - So have the others -
           I happen to think his behavior's                      .
           more natural than theirs -
                     KAUFMAN              t
           Really - and his tics and
           paranoia? They're more natural - ;
           He's in that place.
           Oh, is that it -
           We wake him up, then lock him up,                 »
           that's not "paranoia," that's a
           I've got 20 psychotics up there,
           "doctor," refusing to eat. They
           have no idea whv they're refusing
           to eat. How long should I let
           that go (on) -
           He knows why, hs. wants out.

                                              REV.12/13/89 (YELLOW)       Pg.9

CD   172.CONT.             KAUFMAN                                        172.
                 Hell, so do I.
     Kaufman suddenly looks weary, as if all his years in this place
     have finally, at this moment, caught up with him. Eventually,
     calmly, evenly -
                 Mr. Lowe is not the Messiah of
                 Ward 5, he's a man in trouble. He
                 wasn't "resurrected," he was
                 administered a drug - by. you -
                 that's fallen somewhat short of
                 its "miraculous" reputation -
                            SAYER      .
                 The others are fine, they show no
                 signs of -
                 He's been OQ it longer!
     Sayer has no rejoinder. A silence before:
                           KAUFMAN              .
                  I sympathize with him. I've
                  tried to accommodate him. But                       .
                  I will not let him endanger the
                 health of other patients.
     He's resolute; it feels like a threat, or ultimatum. Trying t
     remain calm, Sayer changes tacks -
                 I'll talk to him, I'll      explain t he
                 problem. He'll listen       to (m e) -
                      (Kaufman has to
                 Without the drug, he's    dead.
     Th e sta teme nt do esn 't hav e qui te the p owe r Saye r may h av
     hoped. At least not on Kaufman. His eyes seem to go dead . .
     and then the slightest, slightest shrug.

     173/174.    INT. WARD 5 DAYROOM - DAY                            173/174
     Sayer enters the dayroom and is immediately intercepted by
     three young male patients.
                  Excuse me.

                                    REV.12/13/89 (YELLOW)      Pg.93
173/174CONT.                        (continuity only)       173/174.
The patients stand their ground forming a kind of human barrier
which Sayer cannot get past.
          Excuse me.
                    WARD 5 PATIENT
          We can't allow it.
Leonard, across the room, pacing slowly, glances over.
          He's all right.
Leonard's "bodyguards" step aside. Sayer crosses to Leonard
and is greeted in a tone precisely that of master to servant,
very courteous yet unmistalcably condescending:
          How are you today?
          I'm all right, how are you?
          Never better.
A strange gesture, a tic, appears and repeats.
          And these gentlemen?

                                          (REV'.'11/22/89) CHERRY    Pg.9

    173/174.CONT.       LEONARD                                     173/17
               These gentlemen protect me.    I
               wish I didn't need them.
             Someone wants to hurt you?
                   (no answer)
    Leonard glances at Sayer with a slight knowing smile.
             That's the thing, isn't it, you
             never know who. Someone I least
             expect, I expect. Look at
             Every patient in this ward thinks
             there's a plot against him,
             Yeah, well they're mistaken,
             they're crazy.
                                    j                 ..
    The smile that appears this time on Leonard's face is as insane
    as anything Sayer's ever seen. He hesitates. Then:
             Something's wrong.
             Hey, buddy.                                     .
                       SAYER                                               *
             The drug's not working. These are                             *
             side-effects and they're consuming                            *
             you, and if we don't do -                                     *
             Hey, I appreciate you coming to
             see me, I have some things to do.
Leonard abruptly extends his hand; it's a little twisted.              *
Sayer doesn't so much shake the hand as hold onto it.
           Look at yourself, Leonard.
Leonard tries to pull his hand away, but Sayer's grasp is               *
             Look at yourself -

                                     (REV.11/22/89)CHERRY          Pg.95

 173/174.CONT.        LEONARD                                    173/174.
           Look at vou.
Leonard yanks his hand free of Sayer's, and, in a torrent:
                      LEONARD            *
           Disease took mjs out of the
           world, I fought to come back, I
           failed for 30 years but at least I
           fought, look at you.
But Sayer is looking at him, moving back and forth against the
bars on a window, panther-like. He retaliates:
           The medicine can be taken away.                               .'
           That can be done. You. can wake up                             "
           in the morning and it won't be
The remarks seem to have no effect on Leonard. He seems not to '
have heard them. But as Sayer takes a step closer, Leonard, *
without warning, lunges.                                        *
Sayer stumbles back and his glasses fall to the floor. He . '
scrambles to his feet, leaving them, and backs away from     *
Leonard's bodyguards who are slowly coming toward.him.
Orderlies get the cage unlocked and hustle Sayer out. As it *
slams shut again, he glances back in at Leonard, and hardly *
                                                       ,    *
recognizes him.

174A. EXT. SAYER»S HOUSE - NIGHT (ALREADY SHOT)                  174A.    *
Beyond the porch windows, Sayer can be seen slowly pacing the *
narrow width of his living room. Opera music blares           *
and CONTINUES OVER:                                                   .*

175.   INT. WARD 5 - LATER - NIGHT                                175.
Moving slowly past the sleeping forms of Ward 5 inhabitants.
And reaching and settling on a bed that's empty.
The opera music CONTINUES OVER:

176.   INT. SAYER«S HOUSE - LATER - NIGHT                         176.
The record spinning. And Sayer at his desk, just sitting, his
"close work" glasses resting on a page of Ernst Heckle.

                                                 (REV.11/22/89)CHERRY         Pg.

            176.CONT.                                                           1
/T~-\       The opera music CONTINUES OVER:                                     ·

            177. INT. WARD 5 - LATER - NIGHT                                  177
            Test pattern on the television. Leonard, in a chair, blankly
            staring. His eyes are drawn to something glimmering on the
            floor across the room. Saver's shattered glasses.
            The opera music CONTINUES OVER:
            178.   INT. SAYER'S HOUSE - LATER - NIGHT (ALREADY SHOT)       178.
            Alone in his room, perched on his bed, Sayer pathetically
            cleans his remaining pairs- of glasses.
            The opera music CONTINUES OVER:

            178A. INT. WARD 5 - LATER - NIGHT                               178A.
            The shards of the lenses layed out on a table.
            Leonard picks one up, and, turning it over to consider it, sees
             that it has already cut his finger.
             He doesn't set it down.

            178B. INT. STAIRWELL - DAWN                 ,                   178B.
            A metallic dang interrupts the music and echoes into silence.
            Footsteps. Sayer appears, and slowly climbs up through the
            caged stairwell. He reaches a landing' and unlocks a door.

            179.   INT. WARD 5 - MOMENTS LATER - DAWN                         179.
            Sayer steps into room and quietly crosses it. He peers in at
            sleeping figures, and at the one empty bed.
                                LEONARD O.S.
                      How are the others?
            Sayer turns to the voice, to Leonard, a ticcing figure in
            shadow hunched in a corner of the dayroom.

                                           (REV.11/22/89)CHERRY   Pg.
                                            (continuity only)
    179-.CONT.              LEONARD                                179
                 They should be.
                 They want you back. I want you
                 back.                         *



                                         .REV. 12/5/89 (BLUE)       Pg.98
 179.CONT.                                                           179.
Leonard remains in the shadows.   Eventually -
          I want to be back.

180.  INT. LEONARD'S DAYROOM - DAY                                      180.
                        i                           '*
Sayer has called together the ward staff, the other patients,
Kaufman and Ray.
          He's aware of his appearance.
          He's less concerned with it than
          he is with the effect it may have
           on the rest of us.                                       .
He waits for the patients to acknowledge they understand. They
          We'll be working with his dosage.
          He's aware of this, too, and says
          he's prepared for it. He wants us.
          to be prepared for it.
                      ANTHONY             :

          Hey, Len.                                             .
The patients glance away to the threshold of the room. Miss
Costello and Mrs. Lowe are escorting Leonard slowly in.
Anthony comes over, shakes his hand.     ,
          Welcome back.
The others come over, shake his hand and pat him on the back,             *
but all a little too gently, too concerned, like he might
break. Leonard manages a smile.
          I' m all right.
The others nod quickly in agreement. And the room falls into               *
                   LEONARD                       .
         Only it's too quiet in here.

                                             REV.12/5/89 (BLUE)         Pg.9

     18OA.    INT. LEONARD'S DAYROOM - NIGHT                            18OA.
CO   Anthony at the piano, playing, singing; the others echoing the
     refrains -
                  "You build me up, Buttercup,                           "
                   Only to let me down ... "   v
     It's like    a cocktail party - everybody dressed up, some
     singing,    some milling around talking. Leonard tries to enjoy
     it, too,    struggling to contain,, to hide from the others, the
     tics that    are trying to "come out."
                            LEONARD V.O.
                 . . . I keep acquiring new ones like
                 a junk collector . . .
     181-182.    OMITTED                                            181-182.
     183.    INT. EXAMINATION ROOM - DAY                                 183.
     Through the lens of the 8mm camera -
     The blackboard. Chalked on it: LEONARD LOWE - 750 MGS.
     In front of it, Leonard seated in a chair, his hands performing
      repertoires of tics. He seems wholly unbothered by them.
                            LEONARD (CONT'D)
                 . . . some are new . . . some are      *
                 elaborations . . . some are counter-
                 tics. They don't bother me. What
                 bothers me is that I know they
                 shouldn't be there . . .
     One of his hands makes a movement to his ear, to his pants, to
     his ear again, like some bizarre genuflection.
                 This is new . . .
                                                            ·   '

     1 8 4 . OMITTED                                                     184.

     185.    INT. BATHROOM - DAY                                         185.

     Alone in the bathroom, Leonard struggles to get toothpaste onto
     a toothbrush with two tremoring "disobedient" hands. It's a
     monumental struggle.

     185A.   INT. PHARMACY - DAY                                        185A.
     The counterweight of a pharmaceutical scale being slid by hand
     from 750 to 500 mgs.

                                        RE V. 12/ 5/ 8 9 ( B LUE)       Pg . 1

186-188. OMITTED                                                    186-188.
189.   INT. LEONARD'S DAYROOM - DAY          *                          189.
The other patients at tables, painting.
Leonard at another table, with the sketches of his library. On
one showing the placement of tables and desks, he writes the
letters, " F L O W " before getting "stuck."
                        LEONARD V.O.
          There's no sense of time. It's
           like being caught between mirrors
           . . . or echoes . . .
Tight on his face, his eyes, transfixed.
                     LEONARD V.O.
            Something has to happen ...
A cockroach runs across the paper and Leonard's eyes "wake up"
and his hand finishes the word, " F L O W E R S "

190.   INT. EXAMINATION ROOM - DAY           .                          190.
Sayer and Leonard watching film of him eating from a bowl of
soup. The hand with the spoon freezes midway to his mouth.
                     LEONARD (CONT'D)
           It's not that it feels bad, it's,
           nothing, I feel nothing. Like I'm
           nothing. Like I ' m dead.

191.   INT. PHARMACY - DAY                                              191.
The counterweight sliding up from 500 to 625 mgs.

                                                                       192. *
Though the junk has been cleared and some of the railings                      *
ripped out, the place is still grim, unpainted. Wood scraps                    *
and workmen's tools lay around. There's a wheelchair ramp,                     *
half-built, not yet in place.                                                  *
           I feel good when I ' m working. I
           feel good in here.                                           ·      *
 In this room. They're alone in it, he and Sayer, by a table- *
 saw that's cluttered with the original hospital blueprints and *
Leonard's plans and notes.

                                                         REV; 12/5/89 (BLUE).       Pg.l

CD             192.CONT.              LEONARD                                       U 92 .
                           The book list is coming along.
                           I ' d love to see it.
                           It's here somewhere . . .
               As he hunts for it amidst all the notes, his hands and head
               begin shaking. The hands seize on some other papers and, hard
               as he tries, he can't make himself let go of them. The pages
                           It's all right, I'll see it some
                           other -                                              i
               He's interrupted as Leonard suddenly goes into an severe
               oculogyric crisis, his head thrusting back -
                           Get the camera get the camera get
     ·                     the camera get the camera -.
f ' « >!» '
                    INT. OPERATING THEATRE - NIGHT                                  193.
\S~P          ig2,
               8mm film of Leonard, in a chair in the middle of the room
              , where, thirty years earlier, patients had been filmed. His
               head still back, his eyes darting, his mouth spitting out
               words -
                                     LEONARD (FILM)
                                      SAYER O.S. (FILM)
                           - I can't do this - I'm turning
                           the camera off -                       ,
                           No - no - no - no - watch - watch
                           - watch - watch -
                                      SAYER O.S. (FILM)
                           - I have to help you -
                           - learn - learn - learn - learn -
                           learn - learn - learn -

                                             REV.12/5/89 (BLUE)   . Pg.1

193A.    INT. PHARMACY - DAY                                       193A.
L-Dopa powder, falling like snow onto the scale; and the
counter-weight balancing precariously at 575 mgs.

194.     INT. EXAMINATION ROOM - DAY   (WAS SC. 186)                194.
The chalkboard: Name and dosage (575 MGS). And Leonard signing
on it, clearly, without trouble, "Leonard Lowe."
Leonard sits. He seems fine. Suddenly his hand jerks up and
catches the tennis ball Sayer has thrown.
The ball, without warning, comes back. Sayer lunges at it, but
misses. It hits his wrist and rolls across the floor.
            Well, I wasn't ready, was I.
 Leonard smiles. Sayer smiles. They're both so relieved, they
 can hardly believe it. It seems they're out of the woods, that
they've found the "middle ground."
Tight on Leonard's pharmaceutical chart on the desk. Sayer's
hand comes in and boldly underlines the, dosage - 575 MGS.

195.    INT. LEONARD'S WARD - DAY                                   195.
Leonard buttons his shirt, then picks up the bow tie he always
wears when he's seeing Paula. He looks well, he feels good,
the only sign of illness some fine motor skill trouble.
                     MRS. LOWE                      .
           Here, let me.
           No, I can do it.
She watches him try to get the tie on by himself, and casts
around, feeling, perhaps, without a purpose. Eventually, more
to herself than to him:
                      MRS. LOWE
           What you see in that girl . . .
                 (she trails off)
           I don't get it.

                                                   REV.12/5/89 (BLUE)   Pg.10
     195.CONT.              LEONARD                                     195.
(D                     (to himself)
                 She's normal.
                             MRS. LOWE
                       (no answer)
                 You're not talking to yourself*
                           MRS. LOWE
                 You shouldn't do that, you know.
                 I know.
     She watches him struggle with the tie a moment more. Finally,        *
     she can't bear it any longer, and reaches to do it for him.          *
                           MRS. LOWE
                 You're taking forever, it's hard                              *
                 to watch. .   -.                                              *
                  I can get it.                                                *
                            MRS. LOWE
                 No, you can't.
                                                       >      ·
                 I can, get away from me.              .,                      *
     He pushes her hand away and turns his back to her. She can't         *
     believe it. Silence. Then, to herself, in a murmur -                      *
                             MRS. LOWE
                 . . . thirty years . . . for what . . .                       *
                 thirty years . . . gone . . .                                 *
     The tie comes off in Leonard's hand, which begins shaking            *
     uncontrollably. JUMP CUT TO:

     196.   INT. LEONARD'S DAYROOM - LATER - DAY                        196.
     The trembling has escalated into a full-blown crisis. The
     staff and other patients can't ignore this one. Sayer wedges
     past them and into the room, and crosses quickly to Leonard and
     his mother, both hysterical. All trying to speak at once:            *
                 What happened?

                                                   REV.12/5/89 (BLUE)                       Pg.1

       196.CONT.                LEONARD                                                    196.
                     . . . I'm ungrateful . . . I'm
                   ungrateful . . .
                              MRS. LOWE
                   I said a terrible thing . . .
                   ... she, she, she, she ...
      Hi s a rm lash es out , s end ing the mo del of the li bra ry cra shin g               *
      to the floor.
                         (to Mrs. Lowe)
                   What happened?
                   ... she devoted her life to me . . .
                   she'd have a life if it weren't                                     p-
                   for me . . .
                               MRS. LOWE
                   . . . I said the most terrible
                   thing . . .
                   . . . I ' m ungrateful . . . I'm
                   ungrateful . . .                               >
      Hi s m othe r t rie s t o c omfo rt him , t o h old him , t ear s c omin g t o         *
      her eyes, too.
                   I'm sorry . . . I'm so sorry . . .
                                MRS. LOWE
                   I'm sorry . . . I'm sorry . . .
      F ran k, kne eli ng t o t he flo or, gat her s t he pie ces of the br oke n            *
      library model.
      196A.   (NOW SC. 196C)                                                               196A.
      196B.   INT. LEONARD'S DAYROOM - LATER - DAY                                         196B.
      Moving slowly ac ross Jose f's work t able wher e he and F rank are .                   *
      rebuilding the library model.
                              LUCY'S VOICE
,,                 There's a song at twilight                                          ,
6                       When the lights are low

                                                 REV.12/5/89 (BLUE)
       196B.CONT.                                               196B.
       H er voice C ONTINUES t he verse O VER: Rose, her sad stra nge
       china doll face.
                 You'd never know it now, but I
                 used to be so pretty, Dr. Sayer,
                 even you would've thought so.
                 I do think so.
       She shakes her head 'no.1   She knows what she looks like.
                           MAGDA O.S.
                 What if he's just had enough
                 of it?
       Sayer glances to Magda, nearby with a group of other patients,
       some of them looking off toward the sunroom where Leonard,
       alone, at a window, stares out.
                 What if it's just a matter of
                 time for all of us?
                 There's no reason to think
                 any of this will happen to you.
                 You're individuals. And you're
                 all well.
                 Aren't you?
       Most nod, but it's without great conviction.
                 He's the strongest of us.
       Close on Lucy/ across the room with Miss Costello, finishing
       the song:
                 Comes love's old song
                    Comes love's old sweet song . . .
       Her voice trails into silence.
                            MISS COSTELLO
                 That was lovely.                  '.
 ,               I learned that song a long, long
(\_y             time ago.

                                                     REV .12/5 /89 ( BLUE )          Pg.1
     196B.CONT.                                                                       196

    Sh e gla nc es ac ro ss to t he su nro om , to Le ona rd , sti ll at t he
    w in do w, u na wa re , or s o i t se em s, o f he r an d th e o th er s.

                I know what year it is . .      .
                I ju st ca n' t i ma gin e be i ng o lde r
                th an tw e nt y- t wo , I h a veno
                e xper ience at i t.
                I know it's not 1926 . . .         I just
                need it to be.

    196C . I NT. PH ARM ACY - N IGH T                                                196C

    Drifting across Leonard's dosage schedules, minute milligram
    changes leading to vanishing point of health, across the scale,-
    with nothing on it, and reaching, finally, Sayer, alone in the
    room, surrounded by racks of medicine and no solution.
    He glances up. Mrs. Lowe has appeared in the doorway,
    consider each other for a long moment before:
                           MRS. LOWE
                When my son was born healthy,
                I never asked why. Why was I sp
                lucky, what did I do to deserve
                this perfect child, this
                perfect life? -
    Silence. Her face toughens.
                          MRS. LOWE
                But when he got sick, you can bet
                I asked why. I demanded to know
                why. Why was this happening?
    Silence. Then with an almost philosophical shrug:
                         MRS. LOWE
               There was nothing I could do
               about it. There was no one I
               could go to and say, "Stop this,
               please stop this, can't you see
               my son is in pain?"
               He's fighting, Mrs -
                         MRS. LOWE
               He's losing.


                                         REV.12/5/89 (BLUE)   Pg.
196C.CONT.                                                196C.
Sayer almost recoils, as if from a slap. Silence. Then:          *
                       MRS. LOWE
           The truth is . . . I wouldn't mind
           if he lost . . .
                  (long pause)
           I know you can't understand how I
           could say such a thing . . .                        MRS. LOWE
           But we were happy before.

197.   INT. LEONARD'S DAYROOM - NIGHT                                    197.
Leonard, alone at a table with a book. He glances up as Sayer
sits opposite him, then down again at the book.
           I can't read anymore. The words
           are written too slow. I keep
           going back to the beginning, to
           the beginning, and trying . . .
He turns back to the beginning, tries      again, his eyes moving
too quickly across the lines, "ahead"      of the words. His hands
and head begin shaking out of control      and it' s' all he can do to
close the book.
          I've let the others down.
         · You have not.

                   ( LEONARD
          I've let you down.
          You have not.
          I'm grotesque . . . grotesque . . .
          grotesque . . .
          Leonard, I won't sit here and
          listen to you talk about yourself
          like this --
          Look at me.

                                                REV.1,2/5/89 (BLUE)       Pg.lO7
                                                      ·                     19 7.
^      197.CONT.
       He is a man consumed by illness. With a voice that is flat and
 w*    limbs that are bent and hands that are twisted and a grimace
         that can only hint at the great depth of the despair he is
                   Look at me and tell me I am not.
                   You are not.
        It's over and Leonard knows it. And though he won't admit it,
        so does Sayer. Leonard barely gets the words out -»-
                   This . . . isn't . . . me.

        198.   INT. BATHROOM - MORNING                                     198.
        Standing before a mirror above a sink, Leonard struggles to
        part his hair straight. He's wearing his best clothes, those
        he wears when he's seeing Paula, but they seem to drape

        199.   INT. PATIENTS' CAFETERIA - DAY                             199.
        He may not have looked like a patient when Paula first met him,
        but he does now. It's all she can do to not break down in
        front of him.                               >



                                                     REV. 10/2/89

               .. I worked . . . I had friends
(p             over . . . I went dancing . . . that's
               about it . . .
     Leonard, ticcing, nods, smiles through his grimace, imagining
     those things.
               I know, I should do something with
                my life.          ·
               Like what? Those are great
               things. I've never done any of
               those things.
               You will.
     Leonard shakes his nead 'no.'
               They'll never let me out of this
               place. They shouldn't.
     They consider each other for several moments -- the one, young
      and healthy; the other, old and ill.
               I'm not well. I feel well inside
               when I see you. I wish you could
               see what's inside. Instead of
               I can see it.
     Silence. As much as Leonard wants to say "I love you," he
     knows he cannot, that it would be ludicrous. Instead:
               Goodbye.                          ·
     He ho lds out o ne of his sh aking han ds to her. S he reach es to
     it, places her hand on it, holds it, and the shaking slowly,
     slowly, slowly begins to subside.
     She lifts him gently out of his wheelchair and leads him away    *
     from the table. She arranges his arms in such a way that he is
     sort of holding her and begins to slowly dance with him.

                                                                        (REV. 10/16/89) Pink p. 10
      199. CONT.                                                 .                             199.
     Some patients glance      up from their       food.        Ser   vers glance up
CO   f rom their work . All     watc h wi th a    sort o    f    re   verie the coup le
     dancing without music     . They watch        as Leo   n   ard   's tics gradually
     disappear. They watc      h as he finds      a sens    e    of    grace and ease,
     as he borrows her gra     ce and ease.        They w   a   tch    him become,
     simply, a man dancing      with a woman     .
     From somewhere, perhaps imagined, there is music, a quiet
     melody played on a piano.

     200.   INT.* DAYROOM - SAME DAY                                                          200
     Rolando's hands on the keys of the piano, playing the melody.
     (NOTE: Hay want to shoot front end of this scene again without
     Rol ando to l eave op en the opt ion of usi ng the sam e s core Ra ndy
     writes for Lucy's walk to the window - SC. 51.)
     L eonar d, r eturn ing f rom t he ca fete ria, walks slow ly in to t he                   *
     room. He's bent, his arms at strange angles like the limbs of
     a diseased tree, his legs managing each step only with great
     He nears the center of the room, the area of inconsistent tiles
     which Sayer and Miss Costello long ago conformed with shoe
      polish. Some of the black has worn off, and as Leonard reaches                            *
      i t, h e f in ds hi ms elf t hro wn b y t he ir re gu lar it y. He t rie s to             *
      step over to "the other side,11 but his feet or legs or mind
     will not do it.
     Everyone in the room except Rolando becomes acutely aware of
     the problem, of the struggle, of Leonard fighting with all his
     will, and nothing but it, to "cross over."
     H e-cro sses the "barr ier." And, wit h sur er bu t sti ll di ffic ult
     steps, passes -the drinking fountain.
     Tig ht o n th e wi ndow . Le onar d res ts h is gn arle d ha nd on the
     frame as he p eers down at Paula wal king away from the hosp ital.
     She glances back briefly before disappearing around a corner.
     Rolando's musdc CONTINUES OVER:

     201.   INT. EXAMINATION ROOM - NIGHT                                                     201.
     The original 8mm film of Leonard, h'is eyes alert, his hands
     exploring the microphone.                                       .
                  · ,, >"·>;> ' · ·                           ·.'···':'··."··
                      . . LEONARD (FILM)                        ·
                 NOW?      ·       .··                                                  ·v : .
                          · .. · '                                       ·   *          ·..·
                                                                                         .  .' '
                        .f     SAYER S VOICE (FILM)
                                     '                          .            "       ;:
                                                                                      "'· :
                 Whenever youfre ready.                                          .        ;

                            L EONARD (FILM )      .
(T~^\             My name is Leonard Lowe. It has
                  been explained to me that I have
                  been away for quite some time.
        Tight on Sayer,- alone in the darkened room, watching the
        footage, watching Leonard wrestling with the thought.
                              LEONARD (FILM)
                  I'm back.
        Light moves across the screen. Someone has entered. Miss
        Costello. She exchanges a long glance with Sayer before they
        both look back to the screen.
                            LEONARD (FILM)
                  I thought it was a dream at first.
        Silence except for the sound of the projector.   Then -
                            SAYER'S VOICE (FILM)
                  When did you realize it wasn't?
        Leonard thinks back, trying to recall the exact moment he
        realized he was "alive.n Finally --
                            LEONARD (FILM)
                  When I spoke and you understood
        One tear snakes down Saver's cheek. The film cuts to silent
        footage of Leonard, soon after his awakening, combing his hair
        and delighting in the fact that he cjan comb it.
        Quietly, without looking at Miss Costello --
                  You told him I was a kind man ...
                       (long pause)
                  It's kind to give life only to
                  take it away?
        There is self-loathing in his voice. On the screen, Leonard's
        trying to operate an electric shaver that seems alive.
                             MISS COSTELLO
                  It's given and taken away from
                  all of us.
        On screen, Leonard buttons buttons on his shirt and glances up
        smiling, proud. Tight on sayer in the dark room, the projector
        light flickering behind him. More to himself --
                  Why doesn't that comfort me?

                     MISS COSTELLO
          Because you are kind.
          And because he's your friend.
On screen, Leonard is beckoning to someone unseen. No one
appears but he keeps beckoning. Finally Sayer, embarrassed and
camera shy, appears. Though there is no sound, it is clear he
asks, "What?" Leonard turns the doctor so that he is facing
the camera, and points. Sayer again asks, "What?" "There,"
Leonard says. "Where?" Sayer demands. Finally, Sayer
looks directly, curiously, into the camera.
Rolando's music CONTINUES OVER:                                           )

202.    INT. DAYROOM - NIGHT                                                                 20
Through a window, autumn leaves on trees.
And the school yard beyond the field, quiet, deserted.
Pulling back, panes of glass. Across the walls of the dayroom.
Drawings and water colors, of people and: places.
To the arm of the metronome slapping back and forth.
And a twisted hand, a pen grasped awkwardly in it, writing
excruciatingly slowly, and just barely legibly:
              & « « * c # * * * O » * * r i ' « « * A · * · x\ · · ·

Th e ha nd , an d th e mu si c, un fi ni sh ed , st op .
T he han d i s s till , t he arm is sti ll, th e h ead is sti ll,
L eo na rd 's e ye s ar e "s ti ll . "
O nl y th e me tr on om e mo v es , ge nt ly s la pp in g.
D r if t in g s lo w ly a w ay fr om Le o na rd , h i s fa c e, hi s b od y , hi s
be in g, "a sl e ep " . . . ac r os s t he e mp t y ro o m . . . a n d sl ow l y to w ar d
the window . . .
.. . w he re it is no w s no win g . . .
         v,                          ·

                                              . . . long sil ence bef ore . . .

                              LEONARD O.S.
/T\                It's winter.
         His voice is flat, inflectionless. His eyes, with little life
         behind them, staring at the falling snow. He's in a
                                SAYER O.S.
                   Am I speaking?
                                SAYER O.S.
         Leonard's eyes drift to a chair, his mother's chair, the one
         she has used for thirty years. It's empty.
                             SAYER O.S.
                   Your mother is well. She's home.
                   She visits you on Sundays.
         Leonard slowly nods.    Somehow he knows that.
                             LEONARD                :
f ~^               She's living her own life.
                             SAYER O.S.                     ,
                   She's trying to.
         Leonard's eyes drift again, across to silent ghost-like figures
         in wheelchairs, the post-encephalitics, all of them, "asleep"
                             SAYER O.S.
                   They fought, as you did, with
                   great courage. They were strong.
         Leonard looks down at his hands and feels one with the other.
         He looks back at the "sleeping" patients, not comprehending why
         they cannot do the same.
                   I'm stronger?
         Sayer is finally revealed seated beside him. He doesn't
         answer. Leonard's hands slowly reach to his face and feel its
    ,x             I'm here, aren't I?


    His glance finds the tray beside Sayer, the paper medicine cup
     and empty juice cup on it. He must be back on the medication
     again. He looks back to Sayer, who's looking toward the
    window, to the falling snow. Eventually -
               Do you think you can walk?

    203.   INT. CORRIDOR - DAY                                          203
    A doctor in a lab coat, one Sayer long ago imparted his "will
    of the ball" theory to, emerges from a ward.
                            FERNANDO O.S.
               Dr. Tyler?
    The doctor turns.    Fernando is walking toward him.
               You got a minute?
                         DR. TYLER
                    (not really)
               What is it?
Fernando arrives, leans against the corridor wall, and sort of
mumbles --·
               You know that woman in Ward 7 . . .
               Grace, uh ... what's her last name
               ... Grace ...
                          DR. TYLER
               Does it matter, Fernando?
Sayer and Leonard walk slowly past, behind Tyler.          Fernando's
eyes briefly meet Sayer's.
               . . . no . . . I guess not . . .

204.       INT. ANOTHER CORRIDOR, - DAY                                 204
Another doctor emerges from another ward.
                       ·                                                *
                     MARGARET O.S.
          Dr. Sullivan?
                     DR. SULLIVAN

                                              REV.12/15/89 (GREEN)             Pg.114
            204 CONT.
            Sayer and Leonard approach. Margaret has positioned herself,
            like Anthony, against the wall, and, pointing out something on
            a clipboard to Dr. Sullivan, glances up briefly as Sayer and
(   i--J   Leonard pass.
            205.   INT. CORRIDOR / LOBBY - DAY                                    205.
           Sayer and Leonard approaching the lobby. As they enter, the
           switchboard operator glances up, notices them, and glances back
           down without a word.
           They approach the front doors.      They are almost there.   From
           behind them, loudly --
                                 MISS COSTELLO O.S.
                       Dr. Kaufman?
                                    KAUFMAN O.S.
                       Dr. Sayer?
           Sayer and Leonard stop just short of the doors. They glance
           back and see- Kaufman -and,v-several* steps .behind..him, looking
           distraught, Miss Costello. She has failed.
           The two doctors stare at one another for several moments.
           Clearly Kaufman knows what is happening. Clearly Sayer knows
           he knows. Eventually --
                                 KAUFMAN               ,
                       Put a coat on him for Christ's
                       sake.                          ·
           He turns around, walks past Miss Costello and down the corridor-
           from which he came. Miss Costello relaxes, turns around and
           walks away down the corridor.
           Sayer and Leonard turn and walk outside.

           206.    INT. DAYROOM - SAME TIME - DAY                                 206.
           Though Rolando is not playing, cannot play, the piano, he can
           hear it, distant, like an echo, as a nurse wheels him toward
           the windows. Other nurses and orderlies are wheeling Rose,
           Frank, Bert, and Lucy and the others there. Sidney is wheeling
           They all "peer" out. They all "see" down below, standing
           across the street, Sayer and Leonard.

                                         REV.12/15/89 (GREEN)       Pg.115


CO   Sayer drapes his coat around Leonard. Neither speaks.
     Neither quite knows what to say. Eventually, Sayer holds out a
     hand for Leonard to shake. Leonard stares at it for a long
     moment, then awkwardly embraces Sayer.

     208.   INT. DAYROOM - SAME TIME - DAY                              208
     The others "watch" Sayer cross back to the hospital. They
     "watch" Leonard staring after him. He glances down the street,
     Leonard, glances down the street the other way. He seems
     uncertain which way to go . . .
     He walks away.

     209.   INT. SUBWAY - EVENING                                       209
     Rhythmic pounding.   Metal wheels over metal tracks.
     Leonard feels things.inside his coat pockets. He,pulls from
     one several capsules of L-Dopa in a clear plastic bag; and from
     the other, a wad of money wrapped in paper on which is typed
     his name and "Bainbridge Hospital, Bronx." He stuffs it
     all back into his pocket and glances up. :
      The train is crowded. Everyone seems to be hiding behind a
     newspaper or the veil of a glazed look; everyone but Leonard
     and the eleven year old boy seated next to him with his mother.
     They're taking everything in, Leonard and1 the boy - the rumbl
     of the train, the overhead lights flashing off and on again,
     the mounting excitement they both feel.
     The boy glances up at Leonard, and, like a secret -
                          BOY ON TRAIN
                     (a whisper)
                We're going to the city.
                           LEONARD .
                      (a whisper back)           .
                Me, too.                                        '

     210.   INT. SUBWAY STATION - N.Y. - NIGHT                          210
     Underground tunnels. People climbing stairs. Leonard climbing
     with them. Under exposed pipes and ducts. Along passageways.
     Through an exit turnstile. Up more stairs. And finally -

                                      REV.12/15/89 (GREEN)              Pg.116
                                        (continuity only)
        211.    EXT. NEW YORK CITY - NIGHT                                 2 1..
        Leonard, emerging from down below, reaches the street. People
        jostle past him but he doesn't move. He stares in wonder at
        what lies before him . . . lights, skyscrapers, Christmas
        decorations, taxis, noise, people . . . life.

        211A.   INT. EXAMINATION ROOM - SAME TIME - NIGHT                211A.
        An oppressive silence. The oppressive institutional room.
        Sayer, alone in it, at his desk in the corner.
                              MISS COSTELLO O.S.
                    Good night.
        Sayer glances up, sees Miss Costello in the doorway to the
                    Good night.
        She leaves. He-stays. iPuts.a -folder in.a.drawer* Straightens
        things on the desk. Looks for something more to do. Clearly
        there's nothing more to do.
        He gets up. Wanders slowly around the room. Past the medical
         instruments in the glass cases, the tripod and projector, along
         tne waii covered with taped and tacked data, notes, Polaroids.
        Buried in it he sees Leonard's original perception test, and
        alongside it, the first Polaroid of him . . .
        Sayer abruptly moves to the window, yanks at it, but it's
        jammed shut again. Below he can see Miss Costello crossing
        toward her car. He fights with the window, finally frees it,
        slides it open and yells out loudly -
        She turns to the voice. He turns from the window.
        Tight on the glasses left on his desk.

        He hurries out of the building and across the lot. Winded, he
        reaches her.
                             MISS COSTELLO
                   What's wrong?


                                                 R EV. 12/ 15/ 89 (GRE EN)           Pg.1 17

        211B.C0NT.                                                                         211
        He h old s h is han d up wh ile he tr ies to cat ch his bre ath . She
        s ta re s a t him , co nce rn ed pe rh aps s ome th in g h as ha pp en ed to
                     Nothing ...
                             (he casts around)
                     No , I was wo nde rin g . .. W hat ar e
                     y o u d o i n g ? Y o u pr o b a b l y h a v e
                     plans . . . or . . .

                                 M ISS C OSTE LLO
                     No, I ' m just -

                                SA YER
                     Because I was wondering . . .
                     m aybe ... you h ave n o pla ns .. .?
                                MIS S COS TELL O
                     I ha ve no -

                                  S AY ER
                     Because -I -was -wondering, ..maybe . . .           .
                     you'd . . . we . . . could . . .
                            (grasping for an
                     I do n' t kn ow , go g et a c up    .
                     o f cof fee somew here ... t ogeth er
                     · · · or ···

        O r wh at - s ep er at el y? H e t ra il s of f, p er ha ps w is h in g he
        h adn't com e out at a ll.
                     ... Maybe we could just . . . go
                     for a walk ... ?
        He shrugs. That's the best he can do. A slow, slow smile
        crosses her face.
                                MISS COSTELLO
                     I 'd be delighted.

        212.   EXT. NEW YORK CITY - NIGHT                                            .    212.
        A mechanical dog crosses Leonard's path wagging its tail.
        Unlike everyone else, he stops to admire it. He's enchanted by
        it. He smiles at the peddler and the "litter of pups" moving
        around his feet.
,                    They're so life-like.

                                    REV.12/15/89 (GREEN)        Pg.118

212.CONT.             PEDDLER                                      212.
            And only five bucks, can you
            believe it?

213.   INT/EXT. TAXI/STREETS - NIGHT                               213.
In the back of a taxi, Leonard stares out the window,
mesmerized by all he sees. The driver glances back in the rear
view mirror.
            How 'bout those Jets?
Leonard glances at the rear view mirror and finds in it the
driver's eyes.
            I like them.
Leonard glances out the window, a little puzzled, to the sky,
to see if there's one flying overhead.
            Broadway Joe.
The driver glances back to see what Leonard thinks of that.              *
Leonard nods uncertainly.
As they rattle along, Leonard peers back but the window at
things going by, and absently pets the mechanical dog in his
lap. Eventually -
            You·re not from here.
            I am. I was born here.     But.I've
            been away a long time.
            The Bronx.
Hector has to laugh, but it's cut short by the blare of his *
horn as he slams it in response to another cab sliding into his *
214-217.    OMITTED                                            214-217.

                              REV.12/15/89 (GREEN)             Pg.119

218.   INT/EXT. TAXI/STREET - NEW YORK - NIGHT                     218.
The meter clicks over and into double digits.    The taxi is
parked across the street from a diner.
           I don't mind sitting here if you
           don't, but to what end are we
           sitting here?
Leonard watches a waitress in the diner, Paula, chatting with
some young customers. His hand moves to and onto the car door
handle, but then hesitates opening it. Paula is getting her
coat and leaving with her friends. They have ice skates.

Prometheus stealing fire from heaven, dwarfed by the Christmas
tree that towers over him. Figures glide past the statue.
Skaters on the ice rink.
It's magical.- At *least« as-seen, through .Leonard's eyes. From
the promenade he watches the skaters gliding gracefully over
the ice. Hector appears at his side.
                      HECTOR                 :
           I ' m sorry to bother you, Len, I
           just thought you should know this
           is adding up, you know?
Without taking his eyes from the skaters below, Leonard digs
into his coat pocket and hands Hector a clump of money,
hundreds of dollars. Embarrassed -
           I didn't mean that, just -
           I don't need it, you keep it.
Hector puts the money back in Leonard's coat. Leonard finds
Paula among the skaters, isolates her from them, and watches
her glide around the rink. A fine mist of snow is falling,
veiling her.
          Beautiful, isn't it.

                                               REV.12/15/89 (GREEN)        Pg.120
           219.CONT.                                                         219«

 ^       A blur of faces, of people on the promenade, from Paula's
/'"~J~      perspective. Though it is impossible, she thinks for a moment
Wj       she sees Leonard's among them. She arcs and glances back up
           again, but the man who resembled Leonard is gone.

           220.   INT. TAXI - NIGHT                                          220.
           The cab rattling down another street.
                      You have children, Hector?
           Hector takes a photograph from his chauffeur's permit plate and
           hands it back. A boy, five, healthy and happy.
                      He's lovely.
                      I thank God for him every day.
                      Every single day.
           Leonard begins to weep softly. Once Hector notices, he slows
           the car, pulls to the curb, and studies Leonard in the rear
           view mirror. Has this man lost a child? The taxi engine
          idles.                                     :
                          '    ,
           221.   EXT. NEW YORK CITY - NIGHT                                 221.
           The cab, empty, parked in front of an apartment building in a
           working class neighborhood.

           222.   INT. HECTOR'S APARTMENT - NIGHT                             222
           The mechanical dog on a bathroom sink. Leonard staring at his
           reflection in a mirror. And at his hands. It's happening.
           He's falling apart.
          HALLWAY. Leonard at a bedroom door. Peering in at Hector's
          sleeping son. He steps quietly into the room and places the
          mechanical dog on the pillow beside the boy's head.
          THE LIVING ROOM. A small Christmas tree. Hector and his wife
          sitting on cheap furniture with cups of egg nog. Leonard
          emerges from the hallway.
                                  '                *
                    I have to be leaving.
                          (having trouble with
                            the words)
                     I want to th-ank you. You've been
                     very kind to me.

                               REV.12/15/89 (GREEN)               Pg.121

222.CONT.                                         .           .     222.
Hector and his wife are both thinking the same thing:      this
man's not well and they shouldn't let him go.
          Leave? You're our guest, we got
          dinner coming. We're having
          something to eat.
His wife agrees with a couple of words in Spanish as she gets              *
up and crosses toward the kitchen.    .
          Stay with us.
          I can't.
And he can't explain why. He takes the crumpled wad of money               *
(and paper) from his coat pocket and tries to give it to Hector
          Hey -
          It has no value to me, believe    ;
          I don't want it.
          It's for your son. It's for him.
Hector doesn't take it but doesn't say anything more about it
when Leonard sets it down on the coffee table.
          At least let me give you a lift
          wherever you're going.
          No, I think I ' d like to walk.       .
                (to Hector's wife)
          Thank you.
She nods, Your welcome, from the doorway of the kitchen.
Leonard offers his hand to Hector to shake.
          What's wrong with you, Len?

                                    REV.12/15/89 (GREEN)    Pg.122

222.CONT.              LEONARD                                       222
            This is good, what you've got
            I know that.
Leonard smiles; the man does know it, and appreciates it.

223.    EXT. NEW YORK CITY - NIGHT                                 223.
Descending from a fire escape strung with a single strand
of Christmas lights . . . down to the street below, to Leonard,
moving along the sidewalk, noticing:
A young couple, bundled up, hurrying down the stairs of a
basement apartment, fumbling with keys;
A Christmas tree too large for the doorway of an another
apartment across the street, being tugged at by someone inside,
unseen. >
Leonard smiles. His gait and tics, and especially the smile,
make him look insane. He passes a shop window with very simple
ornamentation as the proprietor inside switches out the lights,
and continues on, and into the darkness of the street ahead.

224.    EXT. EAST RIVER - NIGHT                    -               224.
Black water. The river. The drone of engines and syncopated
rhythms of wheels of unseen cars.
Leonard, at the river's edge, stares into the water. His hand
comes out of his pocket holding the bag of L-Dopa capsules, and
he lets it fall in. It floats for a moment before a force from
below, like a hand, pulls it under.

224A.   EXT. EAST RIVER - DAWN                                    224A.
Leonard on a bench. Behind him, across an empty field, bums
huddled over a barrel fire warming their hands.
                       SAYER O.S.
Sayer's face appears against a pastel dawn sky. Leonard
 glances up at him. Behind them, in the distance, Hector stands
 outside his parked cab. Sayer sits. Long silence . . .

                                                  REV.12/15/89 (GREEN)   Pg.123
                                                   (continuity only)

        224A.CONT.                 SAYER                                    224A.
                     I' m sorry.
                     What for?
        He smiles crookedly, then looks out across the water again.
                     Isn't that something . . .
        Sayer looks out. The morning colors are mirroring off the
        water like paint on glass. They both watch. The colors are
        deepening right before their eyes. Long, long silence
        before . . .
                     Can you take me home?
        Sayer helps him up. And as they move slowly toward the waiting
        taxi. Hector opens the rear door. The only sound is the hiss
        of tires, the -rhythm of wheels, .until -
                               LEONARD V.O.
                     When I was a boy I felt myself
                     being carried away by illness like
                     a swimmer sucked out by the tide.
        Drifting slowly out across the water and the Brooklyn Bridge
        stretching out across it.
                                 LEONARD V.O.
                      I feel it again, only this time
                     I've been somewhere. I vent to a
                     place and felt things I never
                     dreamed of. I went to a place and
                      felt hope and fear and hatred and
                      love, I glimpsed life . . .

        225.   INT. LEONARD'S LIBRARY - BAINBRIDGE - DAY                    225.
        Drifting slowly across the faces of patients reading in
        Leonard's library, and settling finally tight on him, "asleep."
                               LEONARD V.O.
                     It's good, life.
        Spines of books on shelves lining the walls. And Paula's face,
        considering the titles.
 [--\                           SAYER O.S.
;( __
  lJ                 I t doesn't matter wh ich one.
   '                 They'r e all his favorites .

                                              REV.12/15/89 (GREEN)      Pg.124
                                               (continuity only)
            225.CONT.                                                      225
           She pulls one of the books down at random and crosses the     ,
           library with Sayer, passing patients - including the woman with
           multiple sclerosis - readiny at tables with flowers on them.
                                SAYER O.S.
           He's in a wheelchair, behind an oak desk on which rests, among
           other things, the Ouija board. His eyes open but do not appear
           to comprehend the doctor's presence or his surroundings. His
           expression is absolutely "expressionless."
                     I ' m sorry to wake you, but there's
                     someone here to see you.
           Leonard remains still. "Asleep." And there's a long silence
           broken only by the sound of pages being turned. And then, from
           Dickens' "The Old Curiosity Shop" --
                     "Night is generally my time for
                     walking. In the summer, I often
                     leave home early in the morning
                     and roam about fields and lanes.:
    ' "^             all day. Or even escape for
                     days or weeks together . . .
           Leonard is unable to acknowledge in any way that he recognizes
           the words or her voice . . . but he does. And as she reads,
           the words become alive and the walls recede ...
                     "But saving in the country, I
                     seldom go out until after dark,
                     though Heaven be thanked, I love
                     its light and feel the
                     cheerfulness it sheds upon the
                     earth as much as any creature
                     living . . . "
           And he is moving into the light.


Writers :   Steven Zaillian
Genres :   Drama

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