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    Written by ROBERT MARK KAMEN

Based on the Novel by BRYCE COURTENAY

         February 1990 Draft

      Copyright  1990 Warner Bros.


                         THE POWER OF ONE

               What if the power of one becomes the
               power of many and the power of many
               becomes the power of one?

    FADE IN:

1   EXT. SOUTH AFRICAN FARM - DAY (1939)                      1

    A white car sits in the yard of the farmhouse. On the
    door, a decal: "CAPETOWN SANITORIUM." Two men dressed
    in the white uniforms of the sanitorium exit the farm-
    house; one gently guiding a rather frail, troubled
    woman toward the car; the other totes her suitcase.

    The V.O. of a young man narrates:

                             YOUNG MAN (V.O.)
               There comes a time in everyone's
               life when they discover that the
               only person you can truly depend
               on is yourself. That the only
               real power anyone has to get
               anything done is the power of one.
               With any luck you can make it
               through a lot of years before you
               ever have to face the reality of
               that fact.
               It was a luxury I never had. I
               discovered it the year my mother
               had her nervous breakdown.

    One attendant holds the rear door of the car open for
    the woman. Before entering, she turns one last time
    toward the farmhouse.

2   HER POV                                                   2

    A young BOY looking one part scared, one part sad, and
    one part lost stares back at her, his hand held by a
    large, amiable black woman with tears rolling down her
    round cheeks.

                             YOUNG MAN (V.O.)
               I was all of six.

3   BACK TO SCENE                                                3

    The woman enters the car. The car drives off down the
    road. The Boy watches it disappear behind a plume of
    swirling dust.
                            YOUNG MAN (V.O.)
              My father died before I was born,
              and even though I was raised by
              my Zulu nanny, with my mother,
              depending on her health, in
              nominal attendance, it was
              decided, with her departure, that
              I, too, would depart...
              ... for boarding school.

    The dust the Boy has been watching reverses itself.
    An unseen vehicle comes up the road.

                            YOUNG MAN (V.O.)
              But before I could be sent out
              into the world one very serious
              matter had to be dealt with.
              I was a chronic bedwetter. Since
              my nanny was the one responsible
              for my well-being, she did what
              any responsible Zulu mother would
              do. She called on the greatest
              medicine man of her tribe --
              Inkosi Inkosikazi.

    Out of the dust a large black Buick ROADMASTER ROARS up
    the road and into the yard, scattering chickens and
    geese, stopping in front of the wide-eyed six-year-old
    and his tremulous nanny. A huge Zulu jumps out of the
    front passenger seat and opens the rear door. A moment
    passes, and then two splayed, cracked feet descend from
    the car and settle into the dust. INKOSI INKOSIKAZI,
    100 years old, small, black, wizened, hair and beard
    whiter than cotton, a leopard skin draped over his
    shoulders, a beaded fly switch in one hand, a trussed
    chicken in the other, exits the car.

                                                  CUT TO:

4   EXT. YARD - NIGHT                                       4

    A fire burns bright in the black African night. The Boy
    sits holding the chicken, close by the fire, while Inkosi
    Inkosikazi shuffles around him, drawing a circle in the
    dust with a stick.

                             YOUNG MAN (V.O.)
               Legend had it that Inkosi
               Inkosikazi was the last son of
               the great Zulu king, Dingaan,
               who fought both the Boers and
               the British to a standstill
               nearly 100 years before, and the
               night Inkosi Inkosikazi was
               conceived stars fell from the
               sky until the sun rose.
    The circle    complete, the old man sits down opposite the
    Boy. From     a leather pouch he produces several bones. He
    throws the    bones on the ground and studies them for a
    moment. He     begins to wave the fly switch back and forth
    in front of    the Boy's eyes, chanting low, softly. The
    Boy's eyes    grow heavy; his lids droop.

5   DREAM - EXT. WATERFALL                                     5

    The Boy and the old man are standing above a great
    waterfall. In the swirling pool far below are ten
    stepping stones linking one bank to the other.

                             YOUNG MAN (V.O.)
               The medicine man instructed me to
               jump off the falls and climb along
               the ten stepping stones, counting
               as I went until I reached dry

    The Boy jumps, cascading down the   falls and into the pond
    below.  He clambers up the first   rock. It is slippery.
    He falls off and climbs back on,   buffeted by the spraying
    water.  He makes his way stone by   stone toward the other

                             YOUNG MAN (V.O.)
               Even though it was only a dream,
               I felt as if my struggle to reach
               dry land was terrifyingly real.
               The water was like ice, bone-
               chilling, cold, and as I made my
               way from one stone to the next I
               could feel my strength desert me.
    The progress from one step to the next gets progressively
    harder as the Boy keeps slipping into the swirling water,
    coughing and sputtering.

                             YOUNG MAN (V.O.)
               I was three rocks in when I ran
               out of gas. I couldn't pull myself
               any further. No matter how hard I

              tried, the current tried harder.
              I felt myself going under for the
              last time.

    The Boy's grip slips off the rock.   He starts to go

                                                  CUT TO:

6   EXT. FARMYARD - DAWN                                       6
    The fire has gone out. The Boy is still sitting in the
    circle, the chicken still in his lap. His eyes snap
    open. The first thing he sees is Inkosi Inkosikazi
    sitting across from him with a big smile.

                                                  CUT TO:

7   EXT. YARD - DAY                                            7

    Inkosi Inkosikazi enters the Buick. The Boy and his
    smiling nanny watch. They Boy still holds the chicken.

                            YOUNG MAN (V.O.)
              Inkosi Inkosikazi said the spirit
              of the great Zulu warriors lived
              in me. He told me that whenever
              trouble arose I should return to
              the waterfall and keep stepping
              across the rocks until the trouble
              passed. He said three rocks were
              enough to conquer my problem with
              the night water; that I was very
              brave. He said I was a man for
              all Africa, bound to her by my
              spirit, bound by my dreams.
              And he let me keep the chicken.

    The Boy and his nanny watch the car go off in a cloud of
                                                  CUT TO:

8   EXT. VELDT - DAY                                           8

    The Boy sits on a train looking out the window at the
    veldt and the wildlife moving across in the distance.

    A sack on his lap moves. The chicken's head pops out.
    The Boy gives him some kernels of corn and scratches
    behind his scraggly comb.

                            YOUNG MAN (V.O.)
              Although I was bound by spirit

               and dream to Africa, I was bound
               by heritage and language to the
               birthplace of my grandparents --
               England -- a country I had never
               seen, but one that was to cause
               me eminently more problems than
               bedwetting ever did.

                                                   CUT TO:

9    EXT. ROAD TO SCHOOL                                        9

     A motorcar driving along the road to the school.

                               YOUNG MAN (V.O.)
               The school I   was sent to was
               attended and   staffed entirely by
               Afrikaaners,   the oldest of the two
               white tribes   of Africa.

                                                   CUT TO:

10   INT. SCHOOL                                                10

     The six-year-old walks timorously through the halls,
     filled with bigger boys -- brash, noisy, hostile. They
     only speak the "Taal" -- Afrikaans. Over and over they
     jostle or verbally deride the six-year-old, knocking his
     books down so that when he bends to pick them up he is
     kicked in the butt. Or pulling his shirt out from under
     his jacket and making it hard to move.
                             YOUNG MAN (V.O.)
               I spoke only English. The hated
               tongue. The language of the enemy
               who had usurped power and stolen
               the country through political
               chicanery and military brutality.

     A mob of boys, led by a big bully, JAAPIE BOTHA, runs
     the six-year-old through the bathroom and into the
     showers, fully clothed. He tries to run out. Jaapie
     Botha grabs him and throws him back in, holding him with
     one ham-fisted hand under the shower head and turning the
     shower on with the other. The six-year-old stands
     miserable as the stinging water pelts him.

                             YOUNG MAN (V.O.)
               During the Boer War of 1896,
               26,000 Boer women and children
               were herded into detainment camps
               by the British, where they died
               like flies from dysentery,

               malaria and black water fever.
               And it seemed I was destined to
               shoulder the responsibility for
               each and every one of those
     The six-year-old in his first soccer game receives the
     ball. He tries to move  upfield, but he is kicked and
     pushed, the ball taken from him. He gets up gamely to
     follow the chase, only to be flattened, blindsided by
     Jaapie Botha.

                             YOUNG MAN (V.O.)
               And no one made this more evident
               to me than Jaapie Botha, a wheat
               farmer's son from the Transvaal.

                                                   CUT TO:

11   INT. DORMITORY                                                11

     The six-year-old, asleep, his chicken perched alertly
     atop the bed.

                             YOUNG MAN (V.O.)
               The only time I was at peace was
               when I slept. Inkosi Inkosikazi's
               chicken proved to be, like his
               previous owner, a salvation.

                                                   CUT TO:

12   EXT. REAR OF DORMITORY - DAY                                  12

     The Boy builds a small shelter for the CHICKEN, who
     CLUCKS and forages contentedly.

                             YOUNG MAN (V.O.)
               During the day he would live
               outside the dorm, happily scarfing
               down bugs and grubs, secure in a
               little house I built for him.

                                                   CUT TO:
13   INT. DORM - NIGHT                                       13

                             YOUNG MAN (V.O.)
               And at night he would hop through
               the window and, perching over my
               bed, squawking if any intruders
               came near.

     Several boys sneak up in the    dark. The CHICKEN begins
     to CHATTER. The six-year-old     wakes, a shoe in hand
     ready to throw. The shadows     scatter. The Boy gives the
     chicken a few grains of corn    and an affectionate scratch
     behind the ear, and goes back    to sleep.
                             YOUNG MAN (V.O.)
               He was my best and only friend.

                                                   CUT TO:
14   INT. SCHOOL                                                   14

     Boys and faculty running through the halls excitedly,
     showing newspapers with pictures of Hitler and
     Chamberlain on the front. Posters and slogans with
     swastikas are slapped up on walls. Some boys mimic
     "heiling" to each other.
                             YOUNG MAN (V.O.)
               I'm sure in time a status quo
               would have been achieved between
               me and my schoolmates were it not
               for the cataclysmic events
               occurring in that faraway place
               none of us had ever seen.
               Two montjhs after I arrived at
               the school World War II broke out
               in Europe. Hitler had vowed to
               crush the British Empire. The
               Boers sharpened their swords in
     The six-year-old comes back to his bed in the dorm to
     find a swastika carved into it.
                                                   CUT TO:

15   INT. DORMITORY - NIGHT                                        15

     The six-year-old sleeps fitfully. There is a MUFFLED
     SQUAWK. He wakes. A blanket is thrown over his head.

                                                   CUT TO:

16   INT. DARKENED BASEMENT ROOM                                   16

     The Boy is dumped on the floor, the blanket removed. His
     eyes open in horror. The room is lit by torches.
     Shadows dance fearfully off two dozen boys with swastika
     armbands and leather pistol rigs without pistols strapped
     to their sides. In front of him on a platform Jaapie
     Botha stands, his shirtsleeves rolled to the shoulder,

as another student painfully tattoo-scars his arm with
a swastika, using a knife and blue dye. Seeing the six-
year-old, Jaapie turns his attention to him and
addresses him in Afrikaans.

          God has sent Hitler to deliver us
          from the English bastards who stole
          our country and killed our people.
          Heil Hitler!
The other boys chorus in.

          Heil Hitler!

          We will swear a blood oath. When
          Hitler comes we'll rise up and
          kill the Verdomde Rooineks.

          A blood oath!    A blood oath!
Jaapie bends down and grabs the six-year-old by the
shirt front, yanking him up.

          With your blood.

Jaapie slaps the Boy across the mouth three times.
Blood flows from his mouth and nose. Jaapie dips his
finger in the blood and smears it across his new tattoo.
He holds up his bloodied fingers.

          We swear allegiance to Adolf
          Hitler. Heil Hitler!

          We swear allegiance to Adolf
          Hitler. Heil Hitler!

          Death to all Englishmen in South
          Africa. Heil Hitler!
The chorus repeats.

          God bless the fatherland.    Heil

The voices come back to him stronger.

               Heil Hitler!

     Jaapie grabs the six-year-old again.

               See what we have in store for
               you when Hitler comes, Rooinek.

     He gives a command. The boys at the far end of the
     room part. The six-year-old's eyes open in terror.

17   HIS POV                                                       17

     20 feet away Inkosi Inkosikazi's chicken, his chicken,
     is hung from a rafter upside down, haplessly flapping
     against his bonds.

18   BACK TO SCENE                                                 18


     But before he gets two steps towards the chicken he is
     gang-tackled and held. Jaapie picks up a sling and a

               For crimes committed against the
               whole Boer people. I, Jaapie
               Botha, the judge and Uberfuhrer,
               sentence you and your Rooinek
               kaffir chicken to death. Heil

               Heil Hitler!

     Jaapie starts to swing the sling around and around.     The
     six-year-old struggles to get free.

               Heil Hitler!   Heil Hitler!
     The SLING WHISTLES through the air, faster and faster.

     Jaapie releases the stone. It flies true, catching
     the SQUAWKING, struggling CHICKEN flush in the chest.
     The flapping stops as blood soaks through feathers.

Jaapie flings his hand forward, victorious.

          Heil Hitler!

          Heil Hitler!

The Boy takes the opportunity to break loose. He rushes
Jaapie, whose arm is outstretched, putting him off
balance. The Boy catches him low, driving his head into
Jaapie's exposed stomach. Jaapie falls back and gets
the knife used for his tattooing right in his ass.
Jaapie Botha bellows like an enraged bull as he grabs
futiley for the embedded blade. His cohorts laugh,
thinking it tremendously funny, until Jaapie removes
the knife and turns with it, dripping his own blood, his
eyes murderous. The laughter dies. Jaapie's breath
comes hard.

          Hang him up!

A few boys protest.

          Jaapie!   No!

But Botha is murderous, intent on revenge.

          Hang him!

He waves the bloody knife in the air. Three boys grab
the six-year-old and drag him to where the chicken is
hanging. Two more boys throw a rope over the same
rafter. Others bind the struggling boy, trussing his
hands to his sides.

          You will pay for the deaths of
          our grandfathers and grandmothers,
          our aunts and uncles. All
          Rooineks will pay and you will be
          first. Pull!

The boys who tied the rope now yank it over the rafter.
The six-year-old is hoisted up until he is eye-level with
the chicken.

          In the name of Adolf Hitler and
          the fatherland, I sentence you to
          die, Verdomde Rooinek.

                Kill him!   Kill him!   Kill him!

     Jaapie swings the sling overhead, faster and faster.

19   ANGLE ON SIX-YEAR-OLD                                         19

     He watches as Jaapie bears down. As Jaapie is about to
     let the rock fly the door to the room opens and two STAFF
     MEMBERS burst in, surprising in.

                               STAFF MEMBER
                What's this?

     The rock flies from the sling, but Jaapie's attention is
     diverted. His aim is off. The rock grazes the boy above
     the eye. He loses consciousness. The scene FADES TO

     FADE IN:

20   INT. ST. JOHN'S STUDY - DAY                                   20
     Prince of Wales School, 1950. PK, 17     going on 18, well-
     built, intense, clear-eyed, handsome,    stands in front of
     a seminar and continues reading to 10    students, honor
     students, Headmaster St. John's chosen    few. St. John,
     with the demeanor of an Oxford don and    a mane of snowy
     white hair that reaches his shoulders,    sits off to the
     side, listening.

                I came to after being unconscious
                for two days, the rock missing my
                eye by half an inch. After a week
                in hospital it was decided I'd be
                sent to my grandfather's house in
                the English town of Barberton,
                at least until passions at school
                cooled. Jaapie Botha was expelled;
                sent home to his family's farm in

                              PK (CONT'D)
                And so the first recorded South
                African casualty of Hitler's
                insanity was not a Boer, nor a
                Rooinek, but a tatter-feathered,
                half-bald kaffir chicken.
     PK finishes. The end of class BELL RINGS. Offstage,
     other classrooms are exiting into the common hall, but
     no one in St. John's study moves. St. John takes his

glasses off and wipes the lenses deliberately.   After a
long moment he turns to face the class.

                        ST. JOHN
          Very evocative, yes. Particularly
          the image of the chicken. Good
          choice there.

St. John rises, lecturing.

                        ST. JOHN
          Any ideology that needs to attack
          the thing that least threatens it
          is an ideology that will not
          outlive its own generation.
          Inclusion, gentlemen, not
          exclusion, is the key to survival.
          Something our new government
          should take heed of, eh?

His eyes roam from face to face, fixing his point.

                        ST. JOHN
          Next week we have Mr. Levy who
          will enlighten us on...

MORRIE, a bright-eyed kinetic, speaks up.
          Sport and wager in Imperial Rome,

                         ST. JOHN
          Very apt, Mr. Levy. We look
          forward to the experience.
          All right.

The boys bolt for the door.
                          ST. JOHN

PK approaches.
                          ST. JOHN

          Thank you, sir.

                        ST. JOHN
          I've received notice from the

                 Oxford selection committee. You
                 are to appear before them in
                 three weeks. I assume you'll be
                 reading a piece of your fiction
                 as your presentational.
                 Yes, sir.

                               ST. JOHN
                 A word of caution. Contemporary
                 to most of these fellows means
                 the seventeenth century. Try and
                 keep your theme, um, classical,
                 if you know what I mean.

                 Yes sir. I will.
                 Will the scholarship be decided
                 at the same time, sir?

                               ST. JOHN
                 Money's a different matter.
                 Different committee.

                 Very good, sir.
     St. John picks up a book and opens the pages. He begins
     to read. PK takes it as a cue for his dismissal. He
     goes to exit.

                               ST. JOHN
                 And P.K...

     PK turns at the door.

                               ST. JOHN
                 Good luck tonight.

                 Thank you, sir.

     St. John returns to his book.    PK exits.

                                                    CUT TO:

21   EXT. HALL                                                 21

     Morrie waits in the now nearly-empty hall, taking some
     money from another boy and making notations in a black
     book. PK comes up to him.

          How we doing?

Morrie consults the book.

          You win and your dream comes true.
          You lose, we're back to bread
          and butter sandwiches till term's
          end. What'd he want?
          My appointement before the Oxford
          committee came through.

          A snap.

          For a brain like you, maybe.

          Come on, you'll read one of your
          pieces, they'll be begging you to

          But will they pay for the

          Well let's bloody hope so. It'll
          be a lonely time without you

          Morrie Levy. Is that the voice
          of sentimentality I hear coming
          from you?

          Sentimentality my ass.
          Practicality. Where am I going
          to find a sure thing like you to
          make book on at bloody Oxford?

          Go on.

He shoves Morrie playfully out the door and follows.

                                              CUT TO:


     as they walk down the long   hall looking straight ahead.
     Sweat dapples PK's face.    Both boys are focused on
     double doors at the end of   the hall. There is the
     distant MUFFLED sound of a   CROWD CHEERING.

               You hear Sutcliffe screwed
               Bartlett's sister when he stayed
               with them over holidays?

               I don't believe it.

               I heard it from Bartlett's own
               lips. He's selling reservations
               for next holiday. A pound for
               one night; three pounds for four.

               You register?
               For both of us. Took the whole

     The CHEERING crowd grows LOUDER the closer they get to
     the double doors.

               You nervous?
               Christ! I'm about to have a calf.
               This bloody Boer gets lucky,
               we're in the poorhouse.
     They reach the double doors. Still in CLOSEUP, Morrie
     turns to face PK for the first time.

               Now remember. We're not here to
               exhibit our wares. We go in, we
               do the job, we get out. Right?

     PK is so focused his eyes seem to bore through the doors.
     He does not move his head a hair.



Morrie and PK draw a deep breath. Together they push
open the double doors. Together they stride into a
floodlit, fully-packed sports arena and head down the
fan-lined aisle to the raised boxing ring in the center.
Schoolboys in their respective school blazers, Afrikaan
and English, yell, whistle and clap. PK and Morrie,
in FULL FRAME, reveal PK in a boxing robe with taped
hands, and Morrie with towel and bucket.

          And at the end of six matches in
          all weight divisions, the score
          is Prince of Wales three victories,
          Helpmakeer three victories.

The stands explode with cheers.

          And now for the final bout to
          determine which school will win
          the Johannesburg 1950 public
          school boxing team championship.
          In this corner, weighing 140
          pounds, standing 5'8", from the
          Helpmakeer School with a record of
          13-0 on the year, Jannie
A huge cheer goes up for JANNIE, muscular, bare-chested,
as he dances and shadowboxes for the crowd.

PK enters the ring. He stands, robe on, eyes intent on
Jannie. When the noise subsides the Announcer continues.

          And in this corner, representing
          the Prince of Wales School, the
          current Johannesburg Public School
          welterweight champion, also with
          a record of 13-0 on the year, also
          140 pounds, Kid P.K.

Now the English schoolboys cheer for their man, but PK
does not respond. He barely moves. He raises an arm in
bare acknowledgment. His attention stays focused across
the ring on his shadowboxing opponent. PK watches Jannie
dance closely when a low CHANTING begins from outside the
stadium -- African, tribal, mystical harmonies of black
voices building until the white voices inside the stadium
are stunned to silence. The song carries beautifully in
the night. For the first time PK's focus is broken, but
not like the others in the audience, who haven't a clue
as to what's happening. He has heard this before. This
is familiar.


     This is for him. A distant knowing flickers in his eyes
     like a man who has heard the voice of fate whisper his

     Over and over, one phrase is indistinguishable -- the
     chorus of the song. "Ono  bi shobi ingelosi." The
     chanting stops as suddenly as it began. A moment passes
     before the crowd begins to buzz with the phenomenon.

     The Announcer attempts to bring everyone's attention
     back to the business at hand.

               We thank the native population for
               their spirited display of
               enthusiasm. But now, on to the
               main event. Fighters to center
               ring, please.

     PK, focused again, meets Jannie at the REFEREE.

               You both know the rules.     No
               butts, no elbows, no low    blows.
               First man to score three    knock
               downs wins. Let's have     a good
               clean fight. Good luck     to you.
     The fighters slap leather. PK turns back to his corner
     when his focus is broken dramatically by a face in the


     sit; one of them MARIA ELIZABETE MARAIS, 17, with honey-
     blonde hair and lapis-blue eyes, turns her head and
     engages PK's eyes and his heart. She quickly looks
     away. But a  connection has been made -- fire passed.

24   PK                                                         24

     goes back to his corner and takes off his robe.   Morrie
     stands, holding PK's mouthpiece.
               First row, third from the left.
               Find out who she is.

     Morrie looks down at Maria.

               We're in a bloody war here, in

               case you forgot. Let's keep our
               mind on that, hey?

     He jams the mouthpiece into PK's mouth as the BELL RINGS.
     PK turns to an onslaught by Jannie, a real brawler.
     Jannie's big, overhand rights almost nail PK until he
     finds his footing and dances away. Jannie comes after
     him hard, his schoolmates bellowing encouragement. But
     PK's far superior boxing skills put Jannie at an immed-
     iate disadvantage. It is a classic battle of a boxer
     versus a fighter. PK's jabs keep Jannie at an arm's
     length, until he closes with a combination. Jannie,
     willing to take three punches to land one, absorbs PK's
     point scoring combinations and tries to land knockout
     punches. When he has had enough punishment he lunges
     into a clinch.

               Blery Rooinek.     I'll kill you.

     PK pushes off as Jannie hammers at his kidneys. Backing
     up, PK repays the compliment with two quick jabs to the
     face. PK works Jannie, turning him left then right,
     working the angles, keeping him off balance while he
     racks up the points. Jannie goes left. As PK chases
     him that way his eyes fix on something out of the ring.

25   HIS POV - REAR EXIT DOOR - TALL BLACK MAN                   25

     with a younger black companion of more average height,
     the only black faces in a crowd of 2,000 people.

26   BACK TO SCENE                                               26

     Their presence distracts    PK for a split second, and in
     that split second Jannie    seizes the opportunity. He
     comes across with a big    right hand to PK's jaw. Jannie
     connects. PK goes down     hard. The crowd goes wild.
     Morrie leaps up and down    in the corner.
               Get up!     Get up!

     But PK is seeing double.    He shakes his head, trying to
     clear it.

               Up!   Up!

27   PK'S POV - JANNIE                                      27

     dancing in his corner, sensing victory, the Ref over

     him, counting.

28   BACK TO SCENE                                             28

     PK forces himself up.   The Ref checks him.

               Okay.   Fight.

     Jannie comes rushing in, banging PK with a series of
     hard rights, but dropping his left each time he throws
     one. PK absorbs the punishment as best he can, backing
     up, dancing away. Jannie is all over him just as the
     BELL RINGS. Jannie goes back to his corner, triumphant.
     PK goes back to his and sits down with a blank ex-
     pression. Morrie goes to work on a small cut over
     his eye.
               What are you trying to do,
               bankrupt us? What happened?

     PK turns and looks at the two Africans at the rear door.
     Morrie's eyes follow him, tensing as he sees the two men.

               Christ! If they get caught in
               here they're dead.
               What the hell's going on?

               I don't know.

               Well, worry about it later. In
               case you haven't noticed, this
               Boer bastard is trying to kill

               You see the way he drops his left
               when he throws the right?


     The BELL RINGS. PK and   Morrie trade a look. Jannie
     comes rushing over and  throws a big right. PK steps to
     his own right side and  pops Jannie right over his dropped
     left hand. He looks at   Morrie again.

29   ANGLE ON MORRIE                                            29

               Thank you, God.

     Jannie comes after PK, paying for each big right he
     throws as PK finds his mark. PK plants one, then two,
     then three punches on Jannie's face. Finally, frus-
     trated, Jannie forsakes all pretense of boxing and tries
     to nail PK with wild, flailing blows. PK bobs and weaves
     and feints. Jannie's punches grow weary. PK begins
     to bear down, driving his man back with rapid-fire com-
     binations until he delivers the coup de grace, a left
     hook to the heart and a driving right uppercut. Jannie
     goes down in a heap. The crowd goes wild. The Referee
     counts him out. Jannie's seconds rush into the ring to
     lift their fallen fighter. Morrie also rushes in,
     followed by the Prince of Wales boxing team. They hoist
     PK up on their shoulders.

30   PK'S POV - MARIA MARAIS                                    30

     rising from her seat, and leaving with the other girls.
     Their eyes meet. Her hint of a smile breaks his heart.
     She disappears in the crowd.

31   BACK TO SCENE                                              31

     PK's eyes rise to the rear exit.   The tall African and
     his companion have vanished.

                                                 CUT TO:

32   INT. LOCKER ROOM                                           32

     The boxing team and a number of their supporters are in
     raucous celebration. Morrie comes bouncing through the
     crowd, until he enters the empty dressing room in the
     rear, where PK is getting dressed. Morrie takes a wad
     of money out of his pocket.

               Here you go, pal.
     He hands PK the money.

               You're the treasurer of this
               company. You hold it. Did you
               find out what I asked for?


          Uh, listen, P.K. You know in this
          world there is no greater proponent
          of sins of the flesh than Morrie
          Levy. But  do yourself a favor on
          this one.  Take my advice. Pass.
          Thanks for the advice.    The
          information please.

          Do you know who her father is?
          Professor Daniel Marais.

          So? He's the Nationalist Party's
          resident intellectual. The man is
          one of the architects of this
          damned system of -- what are they
          calling it? -- apartheid? He has
          about as much use for a Rooinek
          Englishman rutting after his
          daughter as the Queen does for
          balls, pardon my French.

          What's her name and where do I
          find her?

Morrie sighs.
          Maria Elizabete Marais, Seniors
          Cottage, Room 22, Devilliers
          School. They don't call it
          'Fortress Virgin' for nothing.
          You'll never get in.

PK slips his school blazer on.

          You going to take book on that?

          Already have.    Three-to-one says
          you don't.

          Where'd you bet?

          I took a big position you do.


     PK smiles at his friend and starts to leave.    Morrie
     stuffs some banknotes in his breast pocket.

               In case you have to bail yourself

     PK boxes him around playfully and skips out, running the
     gauntlet of the celebration outside.
                                                   CUT TO:

33   EXT. DEVILLIERS SCHOOL FOR GIRLS - NIGHT                   33

     Indeed, "Fortress Virgin." Surrounded by a high stone
     wall, the school's gothic towers loom medieval in the
     African moonlight. A security guard mans the front gate.
     PK takes a route through shadows and shrubs, searching
     for a way in. He finds one in a tree whose massive limbs
     reach over the wall. In a flash PK is up the tree and
     over the wall.
                                                   CUT TO:

34   EXT. SCHOOL GROUNDS                                        34
     PK makes his way through the darkened campus. A few stu-
     dents and some staff are about. PK hugs the shadows as
     best he can. PK passes a statue dominating the quad --
     a Boer family from the last century; the man looking for-
     ward, his gun braced for action; the women and children
     at his shoulder, brave, resolute.

                                                   CUT TO:

35   EXT. SENIOR COTTAGE                                        35

     PK comes up to the cottage where a few girls can be seen
     through the windows studying at lamplit desks or readying
     for bed. Other rooms are already dark. PK slips inside
     the building.

                                                   CUT TO:

36   INT. BUILDING                                              36

     PK moves along the hall looking for room 22.

     He is about to turn a corner when TWO GIRLS chattering in
     Afrikaans come down a staircase. PK backs into a

     darkened room to his left. The girls appear        in robes
     with towels and toiletries and step into the       same room.
     One flicks on the light to reveal the shower       room -- 14
     separate cubicle stalls. Still chattering,        the girls

37   ANGLE ON PK                                                      37

     pressed hard against the inside wall of a stall with a
     clear view of the proceedings. He holds his breath as
     one of the girls heads towards his stall. Her girl-
     friend cautions her.
                 Those are always cold.     Use this

     The girl turns away to another stall just in time. The
     SHOWERS START. PK allows himself to breathe again. He
     exits quickly.

                                                       CUT TO:

38   INT. ROOM                                                        38

     Maria Marais sits at her      desk in a nightgown,  working on
     a paper, when there is a      KNOCK on the door.   With her
     mind still on her work,      she opens the door.   Her eyes go
     wide with shock when she      sees PK. He puts a   cautionary
     finger to his lips.

                 May I come in?

     Maria, frozen with surprise, steps back.       PK enters,
     gently closing the door behind him.

                 I'm sorry to scare you.
                 You can't be here.

     She speaks in Afrikaan-accented English.

                 I didn't know how else to meet you.

                 I could be expelled.


          Girls don't usually come to boxing

          We went on a dare. Please.
PK ignores her anxiety.

          Did you like it?
          It was...
          ... exciting.    You were very good.

                 (in Afrikaans)
          Thank you. I'm glad I impressed

          You speak the Taal.

          I'll speak Zulu if it'll help me
          see you again.
          I can't.

          Why not?

          I need my father's permission.

          Is it hard to get?

          Hard for an Afrikaaner boy.
          Impossible for an English one.

          How about your permission?    Do
          I have that?

Maria blushes.

All of a sudden there is a KNOCK on the door. Maria
starts. PK moves quickly behind the door as it opens to

                        GIRL #1
          We're having coffee upstairs.
          Want to come?

          I have to finish this paper.

                        GIRL #2
          Come when you're finished.     We'll
          be up late.
They close the door.    Maria reinforces it with her body.

          Please go.

          You didn't answer my question.
          There are plenty of English girls.
          What makes me so important?

          The way I felt when I saw you.

He is so direct she can only blush deeper.       Her response
is indirect but affirmative.
          My father will insist on meeting

          I can't wait.

O.S., the outside door to the dorm opens.        A matron's
voice calls out.

                        MATRON (V.O.)
          Lights out, ladies.
          Now please.

PK opens her window and starts to climb out.
                 (in Afrikaans)
          Good night, Maria Marais.

                 (in English)
          Good night, PK.

     PK pauses.

               I don't remember telling you my
               And I don't remember telling you
     PK smiles back at her. He drops to the ground. Maria
     closes the window and watches him scoot across the
     campus until he is swallowed by the night.

                                                  CUT TO:

39   INT. MARAIS HOUSE                                      39
     An ample house. PAN ACROSS a gallery of oil paintings
     depicting great moments in Boer history -- the Great Trek,
     an endless progression of oxcarts heading north, the
     Battle of Blood River against the Zulu armies, the hang-
     ing of Boer farmers by British regulars. Women and
     children herded into a detention camp as their farms burn
     in the background. Boer kommandos sniping at a British
     column on the veldt.

     PAN FROM the pictures TO photographs, sepia-toned, his-
     torical, and DR. DANIEL MARAIS and PK, strolling past the
     pictures. Marais points to a photo of a young Boer, turn
     of the century, posed stiffly with a rifle in the slouched
     hat of a Boer kommando.
               Jan Piet Marais. My uncle. At
               22 he led a kommando for three
               years before your people caught
               him and hung him.

               My people?

               The English.

               I consider myself an African, sir.

               As do I. As do the Zulu, the
               Xhosa, the Pongo, the Ndebele.
               We're all Africans. But all from
               separate tribes, ay?


Why do you say that?
Because it's the whole tribal
idea that creates our problems
here in South Africa.
The problems of South Africa, my
boy, do not come from tribalism.
They come from counter-tribalism.
From people insisting that natural
laws which have been in place and
operating since God's creation,
should be tampered with. Does
the gazelle sleep with the lion?
Does the rhino graze with the
mouse? The separation of things
is not coincidental. Do you think
a Zulu wants to see his culture,
his sense of identity, replaced by
someone else's anymore than I do?

No, sir. But I don't think he
wants being a Zulu to mean he is
denied the same rights as
everyone else has.

Which is why civilization is
defined by the ability to live
under the rule of law. Laws
define rights.

But do they define justice?
Ah. Justice. The banner behind
which the English marched as they
gobbled up a quarter of the world?
Justice, my boy, is only relative
to who's in charge.

And how long they stay in charge
is only relative to how well they
dispense that justice...
... with all due respect.


Marais fixes PK with a stare.   PK's eyes meet his evenly,
unwavering. Maria enters.

          Papa, would you like coffee in the
          library or the parlor?

          The library, mein leib.

Maria smiles at PK and exits.   He leads PK towards the

          I can't figure out if you're
          brave or foolish.
          Why is that, sir?

          You come here to ask for permission
          to see my daughter. Correct?

          Yes, sir.
          And knowing  who I am, what I stand
          for, do you  think this sort of
          discussion  is going to put that
          request in  a favorable light?

          I thought a man of your intellectual
          reputation wouldn't want his
          daughter seeing someone who didn't

          Let me give you some advice then.
          You're right. I admire a keen
          mind.  But intellectual reputation
          or not, I am first a Marais, a
          member of the Volk.

                        MARAIS (CONT'D)
          And if you're trying to impress a
          member of the Volk with your
          intellect, don't do it espousing
          liberal ideas picked up in an
          English private school.

               These ideas I picked up somewhere

     Marais opens the library door.
               No doubt from an expert on race
               Actually, sir, from an expert on

                                                   CUT TO:

40   EXT. ROCK OUTCROPPING - DAY                                40

     A brilliant African sun beats down on the veldt below.
     On the rock, a seven-year-old PK sits looking somewhat
     sadly over the landscape. A long shadow covers him.
     The CLICK of a CAMERA is heard. PK turns, shielding his
     eyes with his hand against the glare of the sun to a
     tall, white-haired figure, shirtless, in hiking boots
     and kneesocks, holding a box camera.

                              DOC (FIGURE)
               Ja. Perfect.    You will excuse me,

     DOC, speaking in German-accented English, moves off from
     the sun's glare down to PK's level. On his back is a
     knapsack with a cactus sticking out of it.

               This I do not normally without
               permission do, ja? But to catch
               the expression. After all, it is
               the expression that is important.
               Ja? Without the expression the
               human being is just a lump of meat.
               You have some problems, I think.
               I am Professor Karl von Vollensteen.

     Doc clicks his heels together and bows his head slightly.

               I'm P.K.

     He holds out his hand.   Doc takes it.

               Such a young person with such an

               old expression. I think we can
               be friends. Ja?

     Eighteen-year-old PK narrates.

                              PK (V.O.)
               That was how I met Doc, as he
               insisted I call him. A chance
               meeting between a directionless
               seven-year-old boy and an old
               German professor out collecting
               cacti on the African bush veldt.
               So began my education.

     Doc and PK walk the veldt across craggy mountain trails,
     down dry river beds, through the jungle, always collecting
     cacti and aloe samples, Doc always talking, always

                             PK (V.O.)
               Doc believed the brain had two
               functions and that the South
               African public school system
               unfortunately dealt with only one.

               The brain, P.K., has two functions.
               It is the best reference library
               ever, which is a good thing to
               have. Ja? But also from it comes
               original thought. In school you
               will get all filled up with the
               facts. Here your brain will learn
               where to look, how to look, how
               to think. And then you will have
               for yourself all the brains that
               have ever been.

     Doc and PK sit high up. PK watches the endless animal
     migration below while Doc points things out across the

                             PK (V.O.)
               Doc knew everything. He had a love
               of learning. But his real passion
               was centered around two things --
               music and cacti.
                                                 CUT TO:

41   EXT. DOC'S HOUSE                                           41

     PK and Doc walk up a steep road toward Doc's house which
     sits on top of the hill, both carrying cacti-filled


                             PK (V.O.)
               Until he was fifty, Doc had a
               successful career as a concert
               pianist all over Europe. On his
               fiftieth birthday he gave it all
               up and moved to South Africa.
               From that point on it was all
                                                   CUT TO:

42   EXT. CACTUS GARDEN - DAY                                42

     Behind Doc's simple, whitewashed cottage is a magnif-
     icent cactus and aloe garden filled with the samples Doc
     has collected for years. PK and Doc plant another
     specimen. Doc photographs it. PK records its genus
     in a notebook.

                             PK (V.O.)
               Every specimen Doc found would be
               carefully photographed and

                                                   CUT TO:

43   SUNSET                                                       43

     Doc an PK walk through the cactus garden.
               If God would choose a plant to
               represent Him, I think He would
               choose of all plants the cactus.
               This one plant has all the
               blessings He tried but failed to
               give man. It is true. Look.
               The cactus is humble but not
               submissive. It grows where no
               other plant will grow. The sun
               bakes its back, the wind rips it
               from cliffs, or drowns it in the
               dry desert sand. Not a complaint.
               In good times or bad it will
               still flower. It protects itself
               from danger.

     Doc touches a cactus needle.

               But it harms no other plant.   It

               has patience and solitude and
               modesty. In Mexico there is a
               cactus that blooms once in a
               hundred years and then only at
               night. That is saintliness of
               the highest order I think. Ja?
               From cactus comes medicine to
               heal the wounds of men and little
               buttons if you eat one you can
               touch the face of God or stare
               into the mouth of hell. It is
               the plant of patience, solitude,
               love, and madness. Modesty,
               beauty. Toughness and gentleness.
               Of all the plants I think it is
               closest to God. Ja?

                             PK (V.O.)
               Doc was a hard man to disagree
               with. So when he decided I must
               spend as much time with him to
               remedy the flaw in my educational
               environment I didn't argue.
                                                   CUT TO:

44   INT. GRANDFATHER'S PARLOR                                 44

     Shabbily-genteel, Doc sits in his Sunday best, a cup of
     tea on his lips, talking in earnest to PK's pipe-
     puffing, also shabbily-genteel grandfather as PK looks on.

                             PK (V.O.)
               Appealing to my grandfather's
               stoic belief in the primacy of
               European culture in all its forms,
               Doc offered to instruct me in
               piano in return for my helping
               him locate and gather his precious

                                                   CUT TO:

45   INT. DOC'S COTTAGE                                        45

     Doc and PK practice on a beautiful Steinway, so grandly
     out of place in Doc's simple abode.

                             PK (V.O.)
               As a student of music I was never
               more than adequate, something I
               suspect Doc knew from the start.
               It is the love of music that is
               most important, he would tell me,
               and I would believe him.


                                                   CUT TO:

46   EXT. JUNGLE                                               46

     Doc and PK wander through the jungle looking for flora.

               Everything fits, P.K. Nothing is
               unexplained. Nature is one big
               chain reaction. Everything
               depends on everything else. From
               the smallest to the biggest.
               Always in life an idea starts
               small like a tree.

     Doc shows PK a small tree with an even smaller vine
     attached to it.
               This tree can grow so high it can
               touch the face of the sky. But
               this little vine can choke it and
               keep it small. Most people are
               like these vines. Afraid of new
               ideas. Afraid to let things grow.

     Doc rips the vine away from the tree.
               Always listen to yourself.
               Follow your own idea. If you are
               wrong, so what? You learn
               something. And with learning you
               grow stronger. And if you are
               right at the beginning? An even
               bigger bonus.

                                                   CUT TO:

47   EXT. VELDT - DAY                                          47

     Doc and PK move alongside the great herds.

                              PK (V.O.)
               I roamed the kloofs and ridges,
               the dry riverbeds and jungle
               floors with Doc for over a year,
               learning more than I realize even
               I also played a lot more 'God
               Save the King' due to my new
               musical celebrity.


                                                   CUT TO:

48   EXT. BARBERTON - DAY                                         48
     TRACK THROUGH Barberton, a small town on the low veldt,
     in all its colonial backwater splendor.

                             PK (V.O.)
               Barberton was a very proper
               English town with a proper square,
               a wide main street, and the
               colonials' overblown patriotism
               for a homeland most people had
               never seen, hanging in the air
               like fine dust. Not quite seen,
               but there nonetheless.
                                                   CUT TO:

49   INT. CONCERT HALL                                       49
     PK plays "God Save the King" on the stage. The town's
     population stands -- the men, stoic; the women, dewey-
     eyed, at patriotic attention. Some people file out --
     the men in officers' uniforms of the South African penal
     system and their wives -- Boers. They exit to the dagger
     stares and some undertoned hissing and booing from Her
     Majesty's loyal subjects.

                             PK (V.O.)
               The only Afrikaaners to live in
               Barberton were sent there to work
               at the government prison, just
               outside town. Germany had
               covertly supported the Boers in
               their two unsuccessful wars
               against British rule, supplying
               food and medical supplies as well
               as ample stocks of ammunition.

                             PK (V.O.)(CONT'D)
               Germany was an old friend, a
               trusted friend. And in a country
               where a handshake is a friendship
               and a friendship a bond for life,
               as the war in Europe grew fiercer
               tensions in Barberton heated up.
               Suspicion was afoot. Spies were

                                                   CUT TO:


50   EXT. ROAD TO DOC'S COTTAGE - DAY                           50

     Doc and PK walk toward the cottage.   Doc reads PK's
     report card.
               Grammar: satisfactory. Science:
               satisfactory. Mathetmatics:
     He looks down at PK.

               P.K., if there is one thing I
               know you to be that is a lot more
               than just satisfactory. Ja?

               But I don't want to be known as
               a brain.

               Why not?

               Who do you think gets beaten up
               on all the time in school?
               My boy, to be smart is not a
               sin. But to be smart and not use
               it, that is sin number one. And
               as for getting beat up on, use
               your brain to figure out how not
               to be.
     He hands PK the report card, his displeasure obvious.
     As they crest the hill the cottage comes INTO VIEW
     along with a parked Army car and two armed soldiers
     leaning against it. Seeing Doc and PK, the soldiers
     smarten up, raising their rifles and advancing.

     Doc's face grows pale, his lips tight.   PK pulls close to
     him for support.

               Again it begins. The stupidity.
               Do not be frightened.

     Doc puts na arm around PK's shoulder, drawing him close,
     comforting him. One of the soldiers pulls a pair of
     handcuffs out of his pocket as he advances.

                                                   CUT TO:


51   EXT. BARBERTON PRISON                                      51

     A car pulls up. Doc, in shackles, is escorted from the
     car. PK exits after him. Two guards lead Doc toward
     the doorway to the prison, a square in the looming gates.
     Doc walks, his head held high. PK walks alongside
     holding his hand.

                             BRITISH OFFICER (V.O.)
               Karl von Vollensteen, for the
               failure to register as an alien
               during times of war in accordance
               with His Majesty's government
               orders to do so, you are hereby
               sentenced to be confined at
               Barberton prison for the duration
               of the war with Germany.

     At the door a guard touches PK's   shoulder, holding him
     back. The door opens. Doc goes     through. Just before
     the door closes he looks back at   PK one last time. The
     door slams shut. PK, with tears    streaming down his
     cheeks, is left outside.

                                                 CUT TO:

52   INT. PK'S ROOM - NIGHT                                     52

     Morrie lies in bed, asleep.   PK sits up at his desk,
                             PK (V.O.)
               And again I was alone with nothing
               to depend on to see me through
               except the power of one.

     PK puts down his pen and sits, regarding the pages. He
     raises his eyes to a photo on the desk of a boy on a

     PK smiles at hidden memories, caps his fountain pen,
     turns off the light. The room is pitched into darkness.

                                                 CUT TO:

53   EXT. DOWNTOWN ALLEY - AFTERNOON                            53

     The seedy side of town. PK carrying a gym bag and Morrie
     looking a bit out of place in their school blazers come
     striding up the alley.

                Look, even if the scholarship
                doesn't come through, my old man
                said he'd lend you the money.


                All right. All right. We'll call
                it the 'Levy Carpet Emporium
                Scholarship for Poor but Proud
                Christian Gentlemen.' How's

                Tell your father I appreciate the
                God, I hate people who can't be

                Why is that?

                I don't know.    Personality

     PK nods in agreement.


     The boys come to their destination marked by a rickety,
     faded sign: "GOLDMAN'S GYM." Excitement shines in PK's
     eyes. He bounds up the narrow flight of stairs.

                                                    CUT TO:

54   INT. STAIRCASE                                            54

     Morrie and PK rush up the stairs, stop at the landing,
     and collect themselves before opening the door to the
     gym. They take a breath and enter.

                                                    CUT TO:

55   INT. GYM                                                  55

     A down and dirty boxing gym, humming with the rhythm of

men training. Sweat and smoke fill the air along with
the faint scent of blood. Fighters, both black and
white, train with each other. Morrie is amazed.

         How do they get away with this?

But PK has his mind on other things. His eyes fix on
an OLD MAN across the room standing by ringside.

         There he is.

         Christ, he's old.

         And he's the best.    C'mon.
PK leads Morrie across the gym. PK passes an African
fighter. He stops training when he sees PK. He turns
to another African fighter, glancing at PK. One by one
the blacks in the gym stop training to look at PK. PK
and Morrie approach the rheumy Old Man yelling at the
two fighters in the ring above him in a thick Polish-
Jewish accent.

                       SOLLY (OLD MAN)
         No, no. God gave you two hands so
         you can knock a man out from
         either side. Left-right.

He moves his creaky body back and forth to demonstrate.
         Mr. Goldman?
Solly turns to the boys. A look of bemusement comes over
his face when he sees their blazers.

         What?    You boys lost?

         I'm the one who called you
         yesterday. From the Prince of
         Wales School?

         Oh yeah, yeah.     The champeen.


          And who are you?

          The champeen's manager.

Solly rolls his eyes to heaven.

          Oy gevalt.
          You know you train here it's not
          like those nice school fights
          you're used to. Three knockdowns
          you win.

Just then, as if to underscore his point, one of the
fighters in the ring gets caught witha solid shot to the
jaw. He hits the canvas inches from where they are
standing. Solly, PK and Morrie all look at him, and then
at each other.

          What does it cost for you to train

          For my personal attentinons, Mr.
          Manager? Fifty pounds a month.
          For one of them...
                 (points to the other
                  men working with
          ... less.

Morrie pulls out a wad of money and proffers it to Solly.

          Here's for six months in advance.
          Three hundred pounds.
Solly pushes the money back.

          Six months? I don't know your
          boy'll last six minutes.

          I'll last.

Solly notices that every black fighter in the gym has
stopped working and is staring at PK.


          What are you staring? Punch,
          don't stare. C'mon. Work or
          you're out.

The blacks go back to work.
          That your gear?

          Yes, sir.

          Go change in the back. We'll see
          if you couldn't find a better use
          for all that money.

          Thank you, sir.

PK heads towards the rear.      Solly turns to Morrie.

          Why's he want to do this, a nice-
          looking schoolboy?

          He wants to be welterweight champ
          of the world.

Solly breaks up laughing.

          Oh sure, sure. And I'd like to
          be twenty-five again.

          You like to make book on it?

          You giving odds?

          You name them.

Solly gives him a long look.

          You both meshugah.

Solly walks away.

                                               CUT TO:


56   INT. GYM - RING                                           56

     PK is in the ring getting ready to spar with a well-built
     opponent. Morrie stands at ringside with Solly.
               Let's just start out nice and
               easy now.

     He hits the bell. The fighters circle. PK's opponent
     starts punching, jabbing, probing. After two feints he
     comes after PK in earnest. PK steps left and peppers
     him with three quick blows to the face. Solly's interest
     is suddenly piqued. Again the fighters circle. Again
     the opponent sets up with jabs and again he attacks.
     This time PK dodges, hits him hard and spins him around,
     hitting him twice more. A smile appears on Solly's face.
     The opponent, angered now, gets more aggressive. PK
     keeps bobbing and weaving, sticking and slipping punches.
     The opponent unloads, banging away at PK with everything
     he has. PK backs up two steps, then shifts positions.
     The opponent's momentum carries him into the ropes. As
     he comes off the ropes PK throws him an eight-punch
     combination, demolishing his opponent. PK steps back.
     The opponent sags. Solly hits the bell, clearly excited.

               Never I seen someone so young
               throw an eight-punch combination.
               Where did you learn such a thing?

               In prison, sir.

               You trying to be a comedian and a
               boxer? Mr. Manager, come to my
               office. We'll talk terms. You,
               get showered, and see me after.
               We'll talk training.
     Solly and Morrie head off toward Solly's office. PK
     watches them go, a small victorious smile on his face.

                                                   CUT TO:

57   EXT. BARBETON PRISON GATE                                 57

     Seven-year-old PK stands at the gate holding a bucket,
     waiting to be let in.

                                                   CUT TO:


58   INT. PRISON HALL                                          58

     PK sits on a bench in the hall. Black prisoners are
     marched by, guarded closely. At PK's feet is the metal
     bucket.  The door to Kommandant Von Zyl's office opens.
     A guard summons PK. PK rises, takes his bucket and
     enters the office.

                                                    CUT TO:

59   INT. VON ZYL'S OFFICE                                     59
     The KOMMANDANT, a brusque man with a salt-and-pepper
     brush cut sits behind his big desk.

                                VON ZYL (KOMMANDANT)
               So you are PK.

               Yes, sir.

                             VON ZYL
               I am Kommandant Von Zyl. The
               professor has requested you to be
               his visitor so you can continue
               your studies on piano and he can
               continue with his studies on
               cactus. This is the first

     He alludes to the bucket.
               Yes, sir.   Kalanchoe Thrysiflora.
     He holds the bucket up.

60   VON ZYL'S POV                                             60
     A small cactus resting on some tobacco leaves.

61   BACK TO SCENE                                             61

                             VON ZYL
               The professor taught you this,
               ja? Of course to your English
               town he is a prisoner, a criminal.
               To us who respect such learning
               and culture, he is an honored


     He hands PK a pass.

                             VON ZYL
               This pass is good for any time,
               any day. Would you like to see
               him now?

               Yes, sir.
                              VON ZYL
               Come.   I will take you myself.
     Von Zyl rises and opens the door for PK.    They exit.

                                                   CUT TO:

62   INT. PRISON CORRIDOR                                      62

     PK and Von Zyl walk together.

                             VON ZYL
               We have cleared a little plot
               behind the cellblock for the
               cactus. And tomorrow we have
               the professor's piano moved here.
               There is not another instrument
               like it in the territory. Maybe
               one day the two of you can give
               a concert for us, hey?

               Yes, sir.

     Just then the sound of GRUNTING and THWACKING fills the
     air. PK passes a room set up as a boxing gym. Through
     a crack in the door he sees a dozen boys being coached
     by some guards. Some guards are also being coached by
     a second man. A third man, LIEUTENANT SMIT, oversees
     the whole training session. PK watches, mesmerized.

                             VON ZYL
               You like to box?

               I would like to learn, meneer.
               Are the boys prisoners?

                             VON ZYL
               No, no. The sons of the guards.
               See that one there?
                      (points to a

                       little pudge boy
                       flailing away)
               That's my son, Danie. It's a
               club. Lieutenant Smit.

     Smit comes over.


                             VON ZYL
               We have room for one more on the
     Smit looks down at PK.

               He's a little small, Kommandant.
                             VON ZYL
               We'll build him up then.

               Yes, sir.   But I really don't
               have anyone  to spare to teach him
               right now.   You know, with the
               tournament  coming up.

                             VON ZYL
               There must be someone.

     Smit looks around the hall.

63   HIS POV                                                   63

     A crumpled, old BLACK MAN, a lifer with broken, bandied
     legs and a fighter's flattened face, wiping the floor,
     picking up used towels.

64   BACK TO SCENE                                             64


     GEEL PIET comes shuffling over, properly submissive.

                              GEEL PIET (BLACK MAN)
               Yes, sir.

               You teach this boy basics, and
               you teach him good or I knock
               your black head flat, you hear?


                        GEEL PIET
          I teach him best I know, baas.

          We train every day. First thing
          in the morning. Miss two
          trainings, you're gone.

          Yes, meneer.

          Come tomorrow.     See this old

          Yes, meneer.     Thank you, meneer.
                        VON ZYL
          Lieutenant, a word?

The two men step off to the side.
                        GEEL PIET
          Don't worry, little baas. Little
          can beat big any day. First with
          the head, then with the heart.
          Little defeat big when little is
          smart. You can remember that?

          Yes, sir.
                        GEEL PIET
          No, no. Don't never call me sir.
          'Specially in front of the guards.

          What should I call you?

                         GEEL PIET
          Piet.   Geel Piet.

          Kaffir.   Towels.
Geel Piet assumes his submissive posture again.

                          GEEL PIET
          Okay, baas.    Coming, baas.
He winks at PK and shuffles off.     A BELL SOUNDS.

                                                CUT TO:


65   EXT. CARNIVAL                                             65

     A bell at the top of a strongman's game sounds. A big
     Boer farmer, mallet in hand, roars in triumph, swinging
     the mallet again and ringing the bell again.

66   ANGLE ON PK AND MARIA                                     66
     walking through the carnival, munching popcorn.

               You took a big chance talking to
               my father the way you did.

               Not really. Going in I was behind
               on points with him. I'm English.
               I attend a politically suspect
               school. I'm a boxer.

               He likes boxers.

               All men like boxers. But not for
               their daughters. So I had to find
               some way to make an impression.

     They get on line for the Ferris wheel.

               You could have picked a more
               agreeable topic.
               And made much less of an
               impression. Talk to someone
               about their passion. Even if they
               disagree they'll remember you.
               It was really the most logical
               strategy if you think about it.

               Do you spend hours thinking
               about how to deal with me, too?

               Know what I think?

          You're dangerous.

Their turn comes to mount the Ferris wheel.         They get
into the seat and strap in.

          When I was little we would go to
          my grandfather's farm in the high
          veldt for holiday.

The Ferris wheel starts to go up.

          My father would take    me   to the top
          of the highest hill    and   we'd play
          this game, 'What Do    You   See' until
          we ran out of things    to   see. Do
          you ever play that?

          Want to try?


The Ferris wheel stops to let more people on.        Johannesburg
glitters beyond.

          I see a forest. It goes      on
          forever. There are giant      trees
          which keep getting bigger     and
          bigger over thousands of     years.
          Now you.

The wheel begins to move a little higher and then stops.

          I see little trees growing on the
          forest floor, learning to grow
          with the little bit of light the
          big trees let in. Now you.

          I see the big trees getting bigger,
          their leaves and branches making
          one great green umbrella over all
          of Africa.
The wheel stops again at its highest point.


               I see the sun growing weaker,
               giving off less light. I see the
               big trees dying because they
               cannot live without a lot of
               light. I see the little trees
               take over the forest because they
               learn to adapt.

               You tell a very good story.
     Her eyes sparkle, making her irresistible. PK leans
     forward. Maria turns her face towards him. Her lips
     part slightly. They kiss tenderly.

     The CAMERA RISES FROM them TO the star-littered sky
     twinkling above. The sky goes from black to grey as
                                GEEL PIET (V.O.)
               Can't    hit you, can't hurt you.
               Can't    hit you, can't hurt you.
               Can't    hit you, can't hurt you.
               That's    it. Good. Good.

                                                    CUT TO:

67   INT. PRISON BOXING ROOM                                   67

     Geel Piet is punching at PK, slowly, with a large pair
     of gloves. The seven-year-old bobs and weaves quite
     expertly. Geel Piet stops, winded.

                             GEEL PIET
               You wear out this old man. See?
               See how it can work? How little
               beat big?

               Yes, sir.     But when do I get to

                             GEEL PIET
               You not going to just punch, man.
               You going to combination.

     He demonstrates.

                            GEEL PIET
               One-two. One-two. C'mon.       Now
               you. One-two. One-two.

PK does his best to mimic.

                            GEEL PIET
          Oh do we have     a boxer here. Yes
          sir. We build      you to eight-punch
          combination.      The Geel Piet eight.
          Then you catch     afire. One-two.

Doc appears in the doorway.
          How is the next Joe Louis this

          Try and hit me.

Doc chuckles.

          No.   C'mon.

Doc takes a half-hearted swing.     PK bobs expertly.

          No.   Try hard.

Doc sets up and swings left, then right.     PK avoids
both swings.

          You are amazing.
          And I'm going to learn the Geel
          Piet eight.

          Yes, yes, yes. But right now
          you have to come learn the
          Beethoven Fifth for one hour so
          we can get to the cactus before
          it's too hot to plant. Did you
          bring her?

PK points to a nearby bucket.

          Parchypodium Namquanium.

          Excellent. Excellent. We make
          from you a champion and a brain.

                        GEEL PIET
          Excuse me, big baas. But can I
          talk to the small baas?

          Of course.

Geel Piet looks hesitantly from the man to the boy and
then begins.
                        GEEL PIET
          Every day I see you bring the
          bucket and in the bottom is some
          tobacco leaf.

          It keeps the roots wet.
                        GEEL PIET
          What happens to the leaf after?

          A little I use in some water to
          make a bug spray for the plants.

          And the rest we throw away.
Geel Piet fidgets.   He drops his head, speaking low.

                        GEEL PIET
          If you leave the pail when you go
          plant is a problem, small baas?

          I don't understand.

                        GEEL PIET
          Is like this. You see how hard
          the life is for the people here in
          prison. Only little pleasure they
          take from this hard life maybe
          sometimes when no one watching
          late at night -- a little smoke.
          Now with the big war in Europe
          tobacco is plenty hard to get
          outside. Inside it is gone.
          We are the forgotten in here.

          We have bunches of leaves at home.
          I'll bring a whole bucketful

                         GEEL PIET
          No, no.   Mustn't do that, little

          I don't understand.

          What Geel Piet means is it can be
          dangerous. Something the guards
          might not want the people to have.

          What's wrong with tobacco? Why
          wouldn't they want them to have it?

          What's wrong is people whose job
          it is to punish. After a little
          while it is all they know how to

          What should I do?

          This is for you to answer.

The sound of a TRUNCHEON on METAL turns them to the door
where SERGEANT BORMANN, a side of beef with a sadist's
eyes, stands, truncheon in hand. He enters the room and
circles the trio.

          I smell something not right here,
          ay, kaffir?
He pokes Geel Piet with his truncheon.

                        GEEL PIET
          No, meneer sergeant. Everything
          okay here.

Bormann swings his truncheon into the back of Geel Piet's
knees, buckling the little man to the floor.
          I don't fuckin' believe you.

He glares at Doc and PK.
          If you're up to something I'll
          find out.


     Bormann, still eying them suspiciously, exits.     Doc and
     PK help Geel Piet up.


                             GEEL PIET
               No, no.  This old kaffir's okay.
               Sorry to make any trouble, little
               baas. We  just stick to the boxing
               now on.  Sorry, sorry.

     Geel Piet goes hobbling off, picking up towels.     Doc
     and PK go to exit. At the door PK turns.

               Geel Piet.
     Geel Piet turns.

               I leave my bucket on the side by
               Doc's toilet when I practice

     Geel Piet breaks out a smile he usually keeps to himself
     and exits. PK looks up at Doc who tossles his hair

               PK, to me you are the champion of
               the world already. Come. Let us
               go box now with Mr. Beethoven.

     PK and Doc exit.
                                                   CUT TO:

68   INT. SOLLY'S GYM                                               68
     PK in the ring is about to start sparring.    Solly gives
     him instruction as Morrie stands by.

               Now at the end of the Geel Piet
               eight you do this... one-two...
                      (he punches
                       the air)
               One-two-three... the Solly Goldman
               thirteen. Okay?

     PK nods. Solly hits the BELL.   The sparring begins.      PK
     works his way in.


               That's it. That's it. Move him
               around. Jab jab. Slip slip.
     PK pours it on, laying in the Geel Piet eight.   Solly is
     silently counting.

               And... one-two... one-two-three.

     PK fires the last three punches like lightning and backs

               That's it. That's it. Now work
               around the defense. Jab jab.
     The opponent becomes aggressive.   PK starts dancing,
     slipping punches.

               How do you get away with this,
               Mr. G? Why don't they close you
               down? I mean, there are laws about
               blacks and white boxing each other.

               In a public match. Not in a gym.
               Not yet anyway. The Boer is a
               funny people. Outside the ring
               the black is not equal. Inside he
               is. But only in private, not in
               public. So I keep my mouth shut,
               the police go a little blind, and
               that's that. It's a crazy world,

     A WHISTLE from across the gym draws Solly's attention.
     He and Morrie turn to his office where his assistant
     stands with the tall black man from the Schoolboy
     Championships. Solly's face takes on a serious ex-
     pression. He rings the bell. He turns to Morrie.

               Work him on the heavy bag.

     Solly heads for his office.

69   ANGLE ON PK                                                 69

     turning away from his opponent. He and the tall black
     man trade a glance just before the man enters Solly's

     office and Solly closes the door.

                                                    CUT TO:

70   INT. GYM                                                    70
     PK pounds the heavy bag as Morrie stands by.

                Six, seven, eight, nine, ten.
                That's it.

     PK stops, relaxing. Morrie throws a towel over his
     shoulders. One of Solly's ASSISTANTS comes over.

                Solly wants to see you two.

     PK and Morrie look at each other and head for Solly's

                                                    CUT TO:

71   INT. OFFICE                                                 71

     Solly faces the door as it opens.    PK and Morrie enter.

                You wanted to see us, Mr. G.?

                Close the door.
                Someone I got a lot of respect
                for asked me to make a request.
                He wants to put you in a match.
                With who?

                A young guy just turned pro.
                Gideon Mandoma.

                A black fighter! They want him
                to fight a black fighter?

                In a black township.   Sofiatown.

                Out of the question. Not even
                up for discussion. C'mon, P.K.

Morrie goes to exit.   PK doesn't.

         Who asked you to ask?

         The man who promotes all the
         fights in Sofiatown -- Elias

         And you trust him?

         In thirty years I know him,
         number one on the list.

         You're both out of your minds.

         Did he tell you why he wants the
         I told you what he told me.

         Just talking boxing -- how do I
         match up with Mandoma?

         Pretty even.
         I mean besides    getting thrown out
         of school and    into jail, do you
         know what else    happens you do
         this? He's a     pro. The minute
         you fight him    you're a pro.

         There's no purse being offered.

         That's a good career move. Risk
         everything to gain nothing. Very
         sound business sense.

         Tell Mr. Nguni I'll think about

PK exits with Morrie steaming behind. They head for
the locker room, PK clearly perturbed.


          Okay.    What's going on?

          I don't know.

          Well why don't you tell me what
          you do know.
          There's an African myth about an
          outsider who comes one day and
          unites all the tribes into one
          against their oppressors. They
          call it the myth of Onoshobishobi
          Ingelosi -- the tadpole angel.
          That chanting at the school

          For you?
          I haven't heard it in years.

PK begins to disrobe.
          And how did this honor fall on
          your broad back?

          I told you about bringing tobacco
          to the prisoners at Barberton?
          Well after that was going for a
          while I learned that even though
          they could send and receive
          letters, they never did. They
          couldn't read or write.
          So you did it for them.


          And after that?

          A clothing program for their
          families and a food program.
          One thing sort of led to another.


                I can see where 'angel' would be
                an appropriate title.
                But it was, uh, this Geel Piet
                who was really behind all of it,
                wasn't it?

                He was very good at pointing
                things out.

                Man like that should be running
                a country, not rotting in prison.

                He's not in prison anymore.
                He's dead.

     PK steps into the shower pulling the curtain closed.
                                                    CUT TO:

72   INT. GYM                                                  72

     PK and Morrie exit the locker room.

73   PK'S POV - ACROSS GYM TO MARIA                            73

     talking to Solly.   She sees PK and smiles.

74   BACK TO SCENE                                             74

     PK and Morrie come up.
                I thought I'd surprise you.

                Well, you succeeded.

                Mr. Goldman was explaining the
                theory behind the left hook.
                Beats talking about the weather.
                You may have heard about me?

               I'm Morrie.

               Oh yes.   How d'you do.

     Solly's Assistant whistles for him.

               Well, nice meeting you, Maria.

               Nice meeting you, Mr. Goldman.

               We never had a girl come to the
               It's not such a bad thing, huh?
     Solly moves off.

               You got a pass to come out on a

     Maria lifts her jumper a bit, displaying the results
     of treeclimbing on her knees.

               Your tree pass.

     PK moves Maria and Morrie off down the stairs.

               Do you box too, Morrie?

               Do I look that daft?

               Morrie's the brains of the

               He means the bank. Your boyfriend
               has a great head for literature
               but none for finance.

     They exit the staircase.

75   THEIR POV - ACROSS THE WAY - NGUNI                        75

     in the shadow of the alley stands, smoking a cigarette.


76   BACK TO SCENE                                     76

                      (in Zulu)
               I see you, Nguni.

               I see you, P.K.

     They talk across the narrow street.

               You have heard my request?

               Yes.    Why do you make it?

               A woman has thrown the sacred ox
               bones. She has made a fire and
               read the smoke.

               What did she read?

               That the Onoshobishobi Ingelosi
               who is a chief must fight the
               one who one day will be a chief.

               But it's not true that I'm a

               Who knows what is true and what is
               not. The legend of Onoshobishobi
               Ingelosi is very powerful among
               the people. They see you box the
               Boer and always you win. They
               have heard the stories from
               Barberton. The people live with
               little hope. They must see if the
               spirit of the boy still lives in
               the man.
               And   if I lose? If the spirit of
               the   Onoshobishobi Ingelosi does
               not   exist in me anymore, then what
               will   they live with?

               Less hope.   But still they must

          see.   It is our way.

At that moment a spotlight blinds them. A police car
comes up the alley, stopping in front of them. The
POLICE exit, threatening.
                        POLICE #1
          What's this here?

Maria is gripped by fear.     Morrie is cautious, unmoving.
          An old family servant, Officer.
          From home. We just ran into each

                         POLICE #2
          Papers, man.   Come on, be quick.
Nguni reaches into his pocket.

                        POLICE #1
          Where you coming from?
          Gym, sir.   I train there.

                         POLICE #1
          And you?

          I'm his manager.

The Police look at each other and share a laugh.

                        POLICE #2
                 (to Maria)
          And you're the sparring partner,

The Police laugh. Police #2, satisfied Nguni's papers
are in order, hands them back.

                        POLICE #2
          You have an hour to curfew and a
          long way to go, kaffir. Be off.
          Yes, baas. Going right now.

Nguni moves off, no semblance of the proud man in his



     Nguni turns.

               I'll do it.

     Nguni smiles and disappears into the night.    PK watches
     him go.

                                                   CUT TO:

77   EXT. DEVILLIERS SCHOOL                                      77

     PK and Maria stand by the tree set to climb over the

               I'm scared for you, PK.

               Solly's a great teacher. He
               wouldn't put me in a fight I
               couldn't handle.

               I mean about how involved you are
               with the black people. That
               scares me.

               Because you don't understand them.
               No I don't.
               If you did you wouldn't be so
               scared. You ever have a
               conversation with a black person?
               Of course.

               Besides a servant.

     Maria's silence is her answer.

               You should sometime.

               I hate it when you tease me.



     He kisses her.
              No you're not.

              Yes I am.

     He kisses her again. This time she responds, kissing him
     back. The kisses become more passionate, touching, feel-
     ing. The heat in both of them begins to rise when a car
     passes, its headlights arcing across the tree, startling
     them out of their passion. They cling to the shadows
     until the car turns the corner.

              I better go.

     They kiss once, lightly. PK boosts her over the wall and
     waits until she is safely on the other side before run-
     ning off into the night.
                                                CUT TO:

78   INT. OXFORD BOARD OF EXAMINERS ROOM - DAY                 78

     The Oxford Board of EXAMINERS, eminent academics all, sit
     four across at a lecture table, looking absolutely musty
     with learning. Across from them PK sits, a folder in his
     lap. One man, PROFESSOR LEWIS, peruses the file in front
     of him.

              According to your submission you
              have ambitions to be a writer and
              the welterweight boxing champion of
              the world.

     Lewis reads the last sentence with a tinge of amusement
     in his voice.
              Yes, sir.

              Don't you   find seeking a career as
              a pugilist   and reading for a
              degree at   Oxford a bit, how shall
              we put it,   intellectually


          Lord Byron was a boxer, sir. And
          I've never heard anyone question
          his intellectual integrity.

One of the other Examiners coughs theatrically to hide
his smile. Lewis looks down the table at the man.

          I do not recall Lord Byron
          actually engaging in matches for

          Actually, sir, there are several
          recorded instances of Lord Byron
          engaging in matches for quite
          large sums of money.

                        EXAMINER #2
          Quite right. Yes. In   a letter to
          his wife Shelley makes mention of
          just such a thing. For  hundreds
          of pounds, actually.

Lewis has heard enough.
          Let's move along, shall we? As
          your presentational you've
          requested to read from a work of
          your own fiction.

          Yes, sir.

          Well, then, let us hope we'll be
          treated to the stirrings of
          another Byron.

His sarcasm is not lost on PK.   PK ignores it, opens his
folder, and begins to read.

          The Concerto for the Southland and
          the Death of Geel Piet.
          His name was Geel Piet -- yellow
          Peter. He was a mix of half the
          blood in Africa -- Dutch,
          Portuguese, Zulu, Sotha, and who
          knew what else. His father

               deserted his mother before he was
               born. His stepfather threw him
               out to survive on the streets of
               Capetown when he was nine.

                                                    CUT TO:

79   INT. BARBERTON PRISON BOXING RING                              79

     Geel Piet is instructing a nine-year-old PK in the Geel
     Piet eight. Both boy and man are enjoying what they do
     -- and each other.
                             PK (V.O.)
               When I met him he had spent forty
               of his fifty-five years in one
               South African prison or another.
               He was a thief, a con man, a black

     As the narration continues, the SCENE FADES TO:

80   TWELVE-YEAR-OLD PK                                             80

     with a much better grasp of the Geel Piet eight.      He and
     Geel Piet seem closer than ever.
                               PK (V.O.)
               He may   even have killed a man or
               two in   his time. But despite all
               that he   was one of the kindest,
               wisest,   most self-effacing persons
               I ever   knew. He was my teacher;
               he was   my friend.
                                                    FADE TO:

81   INT. PRISON ROOM                                               81
     PK sits opposite a black prisoner who talks to him. PK,
     thirteen years old now, writes what the man says on a
     piece of paper. When he is finished, he folds it, puts
     it into an envelope, and hand it to the man. The man
     smiles, shakes PK's hand profusely, and exits. PK turns
     to Geel Piet who is on his hands and knees polishing the
     floor, seemingly part of the surroundings. Geel Piet and
     PK share a smile.

                             PK  (V.O.)
               Geel Piet bore no  animosity, held
               no hate. Should   a guard beat him
               he regarded it as  self-inflicted,

               the result of some carelessness on
               his part. To survive the system
               he lived in he became an expert in
               the art of camouflage, a master of
               the invisible. In this he strove
               to be perfect, and in the end it
               was his quest for perfection that
               provoked anger from above and
               killed him.

                                                   CUT TO:

82   EXT. PRISON CACTUS GARDEN                                82

     Quite advanced after five years of planting. PK and Geel
     Piet are bent over a cactus, transplanting it. A group
     of prisoners on the way to a hard-labor work task march
     by. They chant a verse to Onoshobishobi Ingelosi. PK is
     a little embarrassed by it.

               You know every time they do that I
               want to jump up and say I'm just a
               twelve-year-old. I'm not anything

                             GEEL PIET
               To them you are. You are the one
               who brings the smoke, the one who
               writes the letters, the one who
               puts clothes on their children
               when they are cold. You are
               Onoshobishobi Ingelosi.

               But you know that's not true.

                             GEEL PIET
               Who is to say what is true and
               what is not true, kleine baas.
     Doc comes running up, excited, waving a newspaper.

               The Allied armies have crossed the
               Rhine into Germany. It is almost

               That's great, isn't it?
     He turns to Geel Piet.

                              GEEL PIET

Yes, kleine baas.

You are a good    faker, Geel Piet.
but you don't    think it's great at
all. It means     you lose your star
letter writer    and tobacco

              GEEL PIET
No matter that, Professor. We
always manage here. What pains me
most is I lose my boxer.

I'll come back.

              GEEL PIET
No, kleine baas. You leave this
damn place you don't come back
Geel Piet, when a painter finishes
a work of art he doesn't lose it.
He sends it out in the world so
everyone can see the genius of his
creation. This is what you are
going to do. And to celebrate the
launch of such a work of art as
you have made our boxer here, I
have composed an entire concerto
-- 'The Concerto for the Southland'
-- which it is my intention to
play in concert for the prisoners
before I leave.

              GEEL PIET
Not possible. The kommandant
never allow the people to have
such a thing.

He'll think it's a concert for him
and the brass. But we'll know,
ay? And the people will know.

He'll never let black be with
white here, Doc.

If the black is part of the

         orchestra, like the piano, he

                       GEEL PIET
         But the people have no instruments
         in this place, big baas.

         They have their voices. Each
         tribe a different voice, a
         different language -- all singing
         together. It is brilliant, no?

         Except the tribes don't trust each
         other. They don't even talk to
         each other.

         Oh. This is correct.    This stupid

                       GEEL PIET
         They will do it for you, kleine
         baas. You are Onoshobishobi
         Ingelosi. You bring the tobacco.
         You write the letters. You put
         clothes on their children's bodies
         and food in their bellies. All
         you do is ask and they all sing
         for you.

         He's right. Wunderbar.    You are
         the smartest of us all.
Geel Piet smiles as he lifts the watering pot to exit.   A
truncheon stops him. All turn to Sergeant Bormann.

         A kaffir smarter than all of us?
         You are a strange German,

         That little maniac with the
         moustache in Berlin you admire.
         He is the strange German. And
         soon kaput, I hope.

         If that's true you'll not be long
         for this place, eh, Professor?

          No, Sergeant.    God willing.

          And you, too, little Rooinek.     But
          you, kaffir, Hitler comes or

He takes Geel Piet's hand.

          You are going to stay with me.

He forces Geel Piet's hand closer and closer to a cactus
with long thorns.

          And I will find out all your
          secrets once your friends are
          gone. One slip...

He pushes Geel Piet's hands onto the cactus needle.        Geel
Piet does not cry out.
          I have you.

He lets go of Geel Piet's hand.     Geel Piet removes it
from the cactus, bloodied.

          Get out of here.

Geel Piet takes his watering can and goes.

          You see, Professor, they are not
          like us. A white man would scream
          bloody murder.

Doc and PK glare at Bormann.    He smirks and walks away.
                        PK (V.O.)
          As the weeks went by and the date
          for the concert grew closer, my
          life was a whirlwind.
PK and Geel Piet appear before various tribal leaders,
talking, agreeing, shaking hands.

                        PK (V.O.)
          Having obtained the cooperation of
          all the tribal groups, we set
          about instructing them. Four men
          from each tribe were taught the

                 intricacies of their group's
                 parts. They were the choral
                 leaders responsible for teaching
                 the others.

     PK and Doc instruct. Doc plays the piano. PK leads the
     singers. Geel Piet turns the pages for Doc.

                               PK (V.O.)
                 At night the prison hummed with
                 the men in their cells practicing.

                                                     CUT TO:

83   EXT. PRISON TOWER                                         83

     Nervous guards patrol as the SOUNDS of the prisoners
     singing wafts through the air.

                                                     CUT TO:

84   INT. BOXING ROOM                                               84

     Geel Piet instructs PK.

                               P.K. (V.O.)
                 My boxing instruction accelerated
                 as well. It was as if Geel Piet
                 was trying to give me every bit
                 of boxing knowledge he had before
                 we parted. And always from the
                 corners and shadows Bormann
                 watched and waited.
     Bormann watches PK and Geel Piet from the door of his
     room, his truncheon beating idly against his leg.

                                                     CUT TO:

85   INT. RING                                                      85

     A photographer sets up a group picture of the boxing
     squad -- kids and guards. Geel Piet stands off to one
     side, OUT OF FRAME.

                               PK (V.O.)
                 Our boxing squad, the Barberton
                 Blues, won the State Championship
                 with a perfect record. I won at
                 100 lbs. It was my first
                 championship. It made me want


     The group disperses. PK beckons the photographer to
     wait. He grabs Geel Piet and forces him to stand,
     much to the little man's protestations, for a photo
     of the two of them. As the picture is taken Geel
     Piet has the widest smile imaginable.

86   INT. PRISON YARD - NIGHT                              86
     The guards, all in crisp uniforms, patrol nervously,
     truncheons at the ready. The towers bristle with guns
     as hundreds of black prisoners file into the yard.

                             PK (V.O.)
               Finally the night of the concert
               arrived. The prison atmosphere,
               normally tense, was keening.
               Each prisoner entering the yard
               is searched. It was prison policy
               to keep tribal rivalries boiling.
               Divide and conquer. The policy
               of control.

                             PK (V.O.) (CONT'D)
               This was to be the first time
               in the history of the South
               African prison system that the
               tribes were allowed to mingle.
               And if trouble came, it would be
               the last.

     All the prisoners are seated on the ground behind Doc,
     who is raised with the piano on a small stage. Guards
     surround the prisoners -- a solid, edgy border encasing
     a black center. The front of the yard is filled with
     seats on which sit the Kommandant, his wife, assorted
     prison brass, politicians, and a smattering of the local
     Afrikaan Hierarchy. PK is overseeing the seating of the
     prisoners when Doc comes up to him.
               Have you seen my page turner?


     He asks a prisoner in Zulu.

               Have you seen Geel Piet?

     The man shakes his head.     PK looks worried.

          He will come.

The Kommandant, all medals and polished leather, mounts
the stage, signaling a beginning to the festivities.

                        VON ZYL
          Where is Bormann? I need Bormann
          to translate to the prisoners.
          I don't know, Kommandant.
          Is there a problem here,

                        VON ZYL
          I want to address these filthy
          kaffirs but I don't have a

          I'll translate.

                        VON ZYL
          You can speak Zulu, PK?
          Yes, sir.

                         VON ZYL
          All right.   Listen up.

He addresses the prisoners.
                        VON ZYL
          Tell them this concert is the gift
          to them from the professor who,
          even though he is in prison, is
          not a dirty criminal like them
          but a man of culture and learning.

          The Kommandant welcomes you and
          looks forward to the great

                        VON ZYL
          For such a man I am happy to do
          this. But one hair of trouble
          and it's finish.

               He hopes each tribe will sing its
               best and bring honor to its
                             VON ZYL
               One wrong move and you get marched
               back to your cells and don't come
               out for a month.
               He says tonight let us be one
               people under the African sky.

     The prisoners break into spontaneous applause.   Von Zyl
     looks at PK, unsuspecting, pleased.
                             VON ZYL
               You did a good job.

               Thank you, sir.

                             VON ZYL

     He turns the stage over to the professor and takes his
     seat. The professor sits at his stool, poised. PK, in
     front of the singers, watches him for a cue. Doc drops
     his head. PK points to a group of singers. MUSIC and
     VOICE blend spontaneously. "The Concerto for the Great
     Southland" begins.

     Doc plays magnificently with great style. PK focuses on
     leading the singers. Each section, each tribe singing
     its own songs with its own distinct cultural imprints on
     rhythm, pace and tone.

87   CLOSE UP ON PK                                              87

     leading the singers in and out of the MUSIC.

88   FLASH TO TRUNCHEON                                          88

     being raised and lowered on a familiar back.

89   BACK TO SCENE                                               89
     PK is caught short by the flash.   He falters a bit, then
     regains his concentration.


90   FLASH TO TRUNCHEON                                         90

     coming down on a familiar head -- Geel Peit's.

91   ANOTHER ANGLE                                              91

     Instinctively the first four prisoners in each group,
     the leaders, stand and turn to face their people. They
     take up the lead. PK, distracted by his inner vision,
     runs off stage. Doc looks after him, worried, but keeps

                                                CUT TO:

92   INT. PRISON                                                92

     PK runs through the empty cell blocks looking for some-
     one. PK runs through the corridors. He runs through the
     kitchens, the empty dining area, the SOUND of the concert
     chasing after him.

     He runs through the recreation area and past the boxing
     room when he hears a THUD, and another.

93   INT. BOXING ROOM                                           93

     He bolts into the room and hits the light switch. The
     light over the ring comes on, illuminating Bormann,
     truncheon raised over the lifeless, broken body of Geel


     Startled, Bormann jumps out of the ring and runs off. PK
     scrambles into the ring and cradles the lifeless, blood-
     ied head in his lap, and begins to sob.

     PAN DOWN along Geel Piet's arm to his bloodied hand,
     holding the snapshot of him and PK.
     The Concerto grows LOUDER around PK until it enfolds him
     in its melodies. The voices of Africa, the music of
     Europe, reaching for a musical and spiritual crescendo.

                             PK (V.O.)
               Geel Piet died of massive internal
               hemorrhage, the result of
               Bormann's ramming a truncheon up
               into the little man's body until
               his entrails spilled out. When
               I reached him he was already dead.
               I sat there crying, stroking his
               head and crying with African

                 voices rising to heaven above,
                 even as her blood soaked the
                 ground below.

     The MUSIC SWELLS until the voices meld as one.
                                                     CUT TO:

94   INT. EXAMINERS' ROOM                                       94

     The four examiners all sit enthralled by the story. When
     PK looks up, a tear runs down his cheek. Lewis, who is
     visibly moved, clears his throat. Another man blows his
     nose with a handkerchief, covering his emotions.

                 Thank you very much. You will be
                 notified as to the University's
                 decision by mail.

     PK rises and goes to exit.

                 Point of curiousity.

     PK turns.

                 Your headmaster told me your work
                 is somewhat autobiographical.

                 Yes, sir.
                 This Bormann, he was real?
                 Yes, sir.

                 Was justice ever served?

                 Yes, sir. Sergeant Bormann died
                 of cancer...
                 of the rectum.

     PK turns and exits.

                                                     CUT TO:

95   EXT. SCHOOL                                                95


      Solly Goldman sits behind the wheel of his old car. Two
      figures sneak out of the school and come running toward
      the car.

96    INT. CAR                                                     96

      Solly starts the engine as PK and Morrie hop in.

                 We have to make a stop first.

                 The night won't last forever,

                 It'll only take a minute.
      Solly puts the car in gear and drives off.

                                                   CUT TO:

97    INT. MARIA'S ROOM                                       97

      Maria is sleeping when a hand goes over her mouth.     She
      awakes, startled, to PK, finger to lips.

                                                   CUT TO:

98    EXT. BLACK TOWNSHIP                                          98

      A police car patrols the edge of the vast, dark, ram-
      shackle township, its cruiser light scanning the openings
      to the dark rutted alleys. It passes and disappears down
      the road. A moment later an African steps out of the
      shadows and whistles a signal.

                                                   CUT TO:

99    DOWN THE ROAD                                                99

      in the shadows, Nguni hears the whistle. He looks at his
      watch and up the road, tense, as another set of head-
      lights appears. Nguni steps back into the shadows.

                                                   CUT TO:

100   INT. CAR                                                     100

      Solly strains to see out his dirty windshield with the
      headlights as his car bumps along the unpaved road.

                 The night I escaped from the
                 Tsar's Army it was just like
                 this. Six of us -- four Jews,
                 two Ukranians. Dark as anything.
                 No streets. In the day we hid in
                 bushes. At night we went.
                 You deserted?
                 Whey they come take you   at
                 thirteen years old and   tell you
                 it's twenty-five years   in the
                 Army, it's your duty to   desert.

      Nguni steps out right into the path of the headlights.
      Solly hits the brake hard, throwing everyone forward.

                 You said the end of the road.

                 Yes, yes.    Sorry. I drive.
      He opens Solly's door with some urgency.       Nguni sees

                 Welcome, miss, welcome.

                 Thank you.

      Nguni turns into the township and is swallowed by the
                                                      CUT TO:

101   INT. CAR                                                     101
      The car bounces along the rutted darkened streets of the
      township. The glow of smoldering cooking fires through
      open doorways offers minimal illumination to the squalid
      lives within. Maria peers out at a world she has never
      seen. As the car drives, women and children gather along
      the road peering in. Mothers point to PK, instructing
      their children.

                Onoshobishobi Ingelosi.

                The people have come from
                everywhere to see you.

      Maria takes PK's hand, a little nervous.      PK smiles at
      her confidently.

                Where are the men?

                They are to be witness.

      The muffled sounds of VOICES SINGING reaches them, grow-
      ing louder as they approach. Maria is tense. Nguni
      senses this. He turns to her.

                No worry, miss. It is the sound
                of happiness.
      He stops the car at a door in a high wooden wall guarded
      by two big men.

                We are here.

      Everyone gets out of the car and passes through the door
      which shuts behind them.

                                                     CUT TO:

102   INT. DIMLY LIT CORRIDOR                                       102

      Nguni leads everyone down the hallway. PK is dressed to
      fight, hands taped, robe thrown over his shoulders.

                I don't see why we have to weigh
                in. They're going to fight

                It is very important the people
                see everything is correct.

      They come to    an arch which leads into a big empty room.
      In the center    of the room stands a scale and a dozen
      Africans, all    dressed in worn but neatly pressed suits.
      Mandoma, the    other man who attended PK's fight at school,
      clad only in    boxing gear, waits on PK.


                       (in Zulu)
                I see you, Gideon Mandoma.

                I see you, PK.

                I just want you to know you fight
                a man. Onoshobishobi Ingelosi is
                just a name I was given at
                Barberton Prison. It means

                It is not for you or me to say
                what it means.
      An old man, one of the dignitaries says something to


      He motions for PK to step on the scale. PK does. The
      weight is duly noted. Mandoma then does the same. The
      twelve men are satisfied. They head for the exit.
                It is time.

      He motions for the others to follow. PK goes to walk
      with Maria. Nguni pairs him with Mandoma. They exit the
                                                CUT TO:
103   INT. CORRIDOR                                                103

      The party walks towards a big double door behind which a
      single VOICE PREACHING can be vaguely heard. Nguni
      knocks on the door.

104   EXT. SOCCER FIELD                                      104

      The doors open to an entire soccer field jammed with
      humanity. A boxing ring is raised in the center. The
      only lights in the area directly over it. With the
      twelve witnesses in the lead, the party makes its way
      through a path in the crowd. An OLD WOMAN with a fly
      switch, not unlike Inkosikazi's, speaks from the ring.
      As PK passes the whispers start.



The Woman in the ring begins to chant.   The crowd picks
it up.

          Onoshobishopi Ingelosi.
          Shobi shobi Ingelosi.

PK looks back at Maria who is a bit unnerved, as are
Morrie and Solly. He looks across at Mandoma whose face
is a mask looking straight ahead, betraying nothing. The
two men climb into the ring and stand in their corners.
The Old Woman shuffles over and peers into PK's face.
She mutters something inaudible, then turns to the crowd.

                        OLD WOMAN
          Onoshobishobi Ingelosi.

The crowd picks up the chant. She waves and the crowd
goes silent. Somewhere in the darkness a single voice
begins to sing "Nkosi Sikelel I Afrika" -- the African
national anthem.

The crowd picks it up. PK looks down to the front row
where Nguni sits courteously attending to Maria in a seat
of honor among the twelve men in suits.

The African national anthem finishes. The BELL RINGS
three times. The Old Woman is led from the ring. An
Indian Referee in all white enters the ring and waves
the two fighters forward.

          You are listening to me please.
          When I am shouting break, you must
          break at once. When a knockdown
          is coming, it is for an eight
          count. No heads, no elbows. You
          fight clean or by golly I am
          giving you penalty points. Good
          luck, boys.
PK and Mandoma touch gloves and go to their respective

          What do you see?

Solly watches Mandoma dancing across the ring.

          A very tough fight.


         Watch the left hook.

Mandoma comes charging across the ring and begins to fire
everything in his arsenal at PK, overwhelming him. PK
cannot get away from him and takes a series of devastat-
ing combinations which end in a left hook to PK's jaw.
PK drops like lead. The Referee starts counting. PK
shakes his head clear and rises at eight. The Referee
checks his gloves. There is a cut under his right eye.
Again, Mandoma comes charging hard. PK defends himself
as best he can, trying to counter. But Mandoma's offense
won't allow it. He beats on PK until the round ends. PK
sits down in his corner. Morrie works on his eye.
         God, he hits like a truck.

         He's going for the quick knockout.
         He can't keep it up. Soon the
         truck runs out of gas.

         If he catches me again like that
         I'll run out of gas --

The BELL SOUNDS. PK is hardly off his stool when Mandoma
is on him, pummeling him. PK backpedals, bobs and
weaves. Mandoma's punches come fast and furious, each
one looking to end the fight. Mandoma gets PK against
the ropes and bangs away. PK covers up. Mandoma
punishes his arms and kidneys. PK swings back and es-
capes. Mandoma pursues him. He catches PK with a body
chop and then a chopping left. PK goes down again. The
Referee starts to count. The crowd is completely silent.
The BELL RINGS. PK returns to his corner, shaking his
head, trying to clear it. He flops onto his stool.

         He's had it. He's got no strength
         in his punch.

         Could've fooled me.

         I'm telling you.


                  Tell him.

                  Look -- he's taking water.

      They all look.

105   THEIR POV                                                  105

      of Mandoma, breathing heavily, sweating profusely, drinks
      deeply from his water flask.

106   BACK TO SCENE                                              106

                  See. Where that water goes --
                  you go. Right to here.

      He pokes PK's belly.

                  You put your punches there, you
                  win. You don't, you lose.

      The BELL RINGS. Mandoma comes charging out. PK goes on
      defense. He hits Mandoma hard to the head. Mandoma
      whips around and hits him hard. PK spins and hits the
      canvas. His vision blurs, doubles. The SOUND of a
      WATERFALL fills his head.

                                                    FLASH TO:
107   PK                                                         107

      struggling to climb the rocks in the pool below the
      waterfall. He is halfway across this time.

                                                    CUT TO:

108   REFEREE                                                    108

                  Three... four... five...

                                                    FLASH TO:

109   PK                                                         109

      struggles to mount the fifth rock. He clings to it, wet,
      exhausted, as the water pummels him.

                                                    CUT TO:

110   REFEREE                                                        110

                  ... seven... eight... nine...

      PK rises.    The crowd goes wild.      The Referee holds up six

                  How many fingers?
                  Where are you?

                  In a fight behind on points.

                  Okay.   Continue.

      Mandoma rushes in for the kill. PK feints and comes up
      under one of Mandoma's punches, burying a body shot into
      his gut. Mandoma grunts and backs up. PK pursues him.
      Mandoma tries to recover. He throws another big punch.
      PK ducks under it and puts two more hooks into Mandoma's
      stomach. Mandoma starts to back up for the first time
      in the fight. PK boxes, jabbing, feinting, pushing Man-
      doma around the ring, taking control. Mandoma, heading
      for exhaustion, throws another big punch in desperation.
      PK hits him with three punches in return. Mandoma swings
      again with a last desperate effort, and PK buries the
      Solly Goldman thirteen into every part of his body. PK
      steps back and with his last punch, puts Mandoma down.
      The crowd goes silent. The Referee counts Mandoma out.
      He raises PK's hand. Still, the crowd is silent.

                  We're in the shit now.      Nice
                  knowing you, Solly.

      He and Solly look around at       the somber black faces flick-
      ering in the shadows of the       ring light. PK looks  down at
      Mandoma in silence. Mandoma        rises unsteadily. He  stands
      in front of PK, staring into       his eyes, and then he raises
      PK's arm above his head.

                  Onoshobishobi Ingelosi.
      The crowd goes wild, chanting, singing over and over as
      PK and Mandoma stand in center ring, arms raised.


111   EXT. DEVILLIERS SCHOOL - PRE-DAWN                             111

      PK stands with Maria by the tree they use to climb over
      the wall. In the b.g. Solly and Morrie wait in the car.
                The Seniors Dance is two Saturdays
                from now. I would like it if you
                could escort me.
                Maria Marais with a rooinek at
                the Senior Dance? What will
                people think?

                They'll think what they think and
                I'll think what I think.

                And what is that?

      Maria touches his face.   Her eyes soften.

                I think I love you.

      PK swallows hard.   They kiss and embrace.     PK caresses
      her face.

                I would be honored to be your

      Maria beams.
                I didn't doubt it for a minute.

      Solly HONKS the HORN.
      PK kisses Maria once more.

                I'll give you a boost.
      PK stirrups his hands. Maria boosts up to the first
      branch of the tree. She crests the wall.

                Thank you for tonight.    You were

      She smiles and drops down behind the wall.     PK runs back

      toward the car.

                                                        CUT TO:

112   EXT. PRINCE OF WALES SCHOOL - DAWN                               112

      Solly's car pulls up opposite the gate.

                                                        CUT TO:

113   INT. CAR                                                         113
      Morrie is sleeping in the back seat.         Solly and PK are
      sitting in the front.

                 When you and your manager first
                 came to me with that meshuganah
                 idea to be welterweight champion
                 of the world you did not have a
                 big believer here. But I gotta
                 tell you. Now you do. In London
                 lives Benny Rosen, the greatest
                 trainer in the world today. When
                 you go to your Oxford I give you
                 a letter to Rosen. Whatever I
                 can't do for you, he can.

                 Thanks, Mr. G.

      Solly pokes Morrie awake.

                 And I give the address of a very
                 good bookmaker. Teach you also
                 a thing or two. Now, go on back
                 to being fancy-schmancy English
                 gentlemen. I'm proud of both of

      PK and Morrie exit the car and run back to the school.

114   EXT. CAMPUS                                                      114

      As PK and Morrie jog toward their dorm a VOICE stops
      them from behind.

                                  ST. JOHN (V.O)

      PK and Morrie stop cold.      They turn to St. John, up early

      for his daily constitutional.

                You're up early, sir.

                              ST. JOHN
                Best time for walking.

                Best time for running too, sir.
                Have to put in the roadwork, sir.
                You know, keep those legs strong.

      St. John eyes the bruise on PK's cheek.

                               ST. JOHN
                Yes.   Quite a fresh bruise there.

                I tripped.

                              ST. JOHN
                Maybe you should change your

      He looks down at their shoes. Both boys are wearing pro-
      per shoes; not at all what would be worn for roadwork.

                              ST. JOHN
                To something a little more
                appropriate for...

      Busted, the boys squirm uncomfortably.

                Yes, sir.

      St. John fixes them with a look, and then walks off.     The
      boys bolt into the dorm.

                                                     CUT TO:

115   INT. PK'S ROOM                                              115

      PK and Morrie open the door and stop cold. Gideon
      Mandoma sits in a chair facing the door. He rises.
                Please excuse me for coming like
                a thief by the window.


          You speak English?

PK is surprised.   Mandoma nods.
          You are a great fighter, Gideon.

          Second greatest in this room.

          But you didn't come to talk about

Mandoma shakes his head.   He waits for a moment, then
          When you say to me, Onoshobishobi
          Ingelosi means nothing, you are
          right. And you are wrong. The
          legend gives the people hope for
          a good tomorrow. But hope alone
          will not make a good tomorrow
          for the people. You cannot
          write our letters, get us clothes,
          food, work. These things we must
          do ourselves, so we can be part
          of this country's good tomorrow.
          If we are not, the hope will
          disappear. The people will grow
          tired. The tired will grow angry
          and there will be no good tomorrow
          for anybody -- black or white.
          What are you asking from me?

          To be part of something you must
          know what everyone else knows.
          We have our own knowledge. We
          need yours.

          We get our knowledge in schools,
          Gideon. We're not born with it.

          Then it must be the same with us.

          You have schools.


                Yes. And teachers who cannot do
                more than their own ABC's. We
                have a system made not to teach

                I am only seventeen years old,
                Gideon. I cannot teach five
                million people how to speak
                English and do sums.
                You taught the singing to
                thousands at Barberton Prison.
                You were only twelve.
      Mandoma rises.

                              MANDOMA (CONT'D)
                You are a great fighter, PK.
                Second greatest in this room,

      Mandoma exits through the window.

                                                    CUT TO:

116   INT. ST. JOHN'S STUDY                                    116

      PK stands in front of a pondering St. John.
                              ST. JOHN
                You are asking me for a lot,
                young man.

                I'm only asking you to put what
                you've taught us into practice,

                              ST. JOHN
                You are asking me to put the
                reputation of this school in

                The reputation of this school,
                sir, is based on its integrity.

                              ST. JOHN
                I'm aware of that. I'm also aware
                of what will happen if this ever
                gets out. We live in a country
                where the rules are being

                Then we'd better be careful to
                keep a firm hand on our pens...
                ... sir.

      St. John regards PK.

                              ST. JOHN
                All right. I will allow it on a
                trial basis. Here are my
                conditions: you tell no one; you
                operate at night on Saturdays when
                the student body is gone; you
                involve no one besides yourself
                and Mr. Levy. If you can comply,
                you can have your school.

                                                   CUT TO:

117   EXT. BEACH - LATE AFTERNOON                                 117

      Maria and PK are about to race.    Maria is given a head
      start of ten yards.

                Ready.   Set.   Go!

      They both take off. Maria runs     as hard as she can. PK
      catches up to her. She strains     with the effort. PK
      crosses the finish line first.     Maria trips and falls,
      rolling in the sand. PK comes     back to her. He kneels
                You okay?

                You're supposed to let me win.

                Then you'd say I was being
                You were guilty of that when you
                gave me a head start.


She kisses him and stands up.     They begin to walk along
the beach.

          Get your formal yet?

PK grows uncomfortable.

          Uh... no.

          The dance is only a week away.

          I can't come to the dance.

          Why not?
          I have an obligation.

          Can't you change it?

          It's a permanent obligation.
          Every Saturday night...
          It starts tonight.

Maria cannot believe what she is hearing.

          You're breaking up with me.


          Then what could be so important
          that it takes all your Saturday

          I really can't say.
Maria starts to cry.   She throws her arm around him.


                P.K., I love you.     Please don't
                go away.

                I'm not going away.
                Yes you are.   I can feel it.

                I'm not.   I'm just tutoring.

      Maria pulls back.
                I started a school...
                ... for Gideon Mandoma and some
                others in the seniors library.

      Maria's sadness turns to anger.

                I'm losing you to a bunch of

                You're not losing anything.
                No? Are you escorting me to the
                dance? Are you going to see me on
                the only free night they give us?
                Maria, this is important to me.
                And my life's important to me.
                Damn you.

      She runs off in tears.   A pained PK doesn't attempt to
      go after her.

                                                     FADE TO.

118   EXT. CLIFF FACE                                            118

      On an escarpment high above the dense green rainforest
      cover, PK and Doc move along the sheer cliff face with
      photographic equipment and rucksacks.

      PK notices Doc's labored breathing and slow movements.
      They reach some small cacti growing out of the side of

the cliff in full bloom.

                  (breathing hard)
          Ach.   You see how beautiful?
          You ever hear of glycerine, Doc?

          Mr. Going-To-Oxford-Smarty-Pants.
          Of course I know about glycerine.
          Triglycerine. Biglycerine.
          Monoglycerine. What do you want
          to know?

          Why you don't use it. It's only
          a little pill under the tongue.

          Tongues were not made to put
          little pills under. When I have
          to start with that, I become
          something else.

          Well, until you become something
          else, the little pills would make
          this easier on your heart.

A CLAP of THUNDER cuts into their conversation.   Thick
roiling rain clouds appear suddenly.
          Little pills or no little pills
          -- we don't find cover, we both
          turn into something else.

Lightning splits the sky.   Rain begins to fall, pelting
the escarpment.
          Look for a cave. Always in this
          kind of rock there is caves.
          Quick! Quick!
PK starts to move horizontally across the cliff face like
a spider on a wall. Doc follows. The rain becomes

PK turns to look back at Doc.

          Don't look at me.     Go!


      PK forges ahead.

119   HIS POV - OPENING                                         119
      some 20 yards ahead.

120   BACK TO SCENE                                                   120
                I've found something.
      The rain is so heavy PK can barely make out Doc behind
      him. When he can, he sees the old man pause, breathing
      hard. PK makes his way back to Doc. Halfway there,
      Doc waves him forward and starts to move. PK reaches
      the small opening and slips in.

                                                      CUT TO:

121   INT. SMALL CAVE                                                 121

      PK stoops in the small cave, dripping wet. A moment
      later Doc's foot appears at the entrance. PK helps him
      in. Doc slumps down, exhausted.
                You okay?

      Breathing too   hard to reply, Doc shakes his head in the
      affirmative.    PK looks out at the rain forming a sheer
      wall of water   outside. He turns to Doc, who is getting
      up, flashlight   in hand.
                What are you doing?


                Why don't you just rest?

                Plenty time for resting when I am
                something else. Look.

      He strikes a match.    A wind from inside the cave blows
      it side to side.

                When does a cave have wind?    This

                is more than some little cave, my

      Doc crouches down and follows the beam of his flashlight
      to the rear of the cave where there is a small opening.
      He shines the light into it.

                Here.   See?   There is a passage.

      Before PK can say anything else, Doc has wriggled through
      the small opening.

      PK, a bit peeved, takes his own flashlight and follows.

                                                     CUT TO:

122   INT. SMALL TUNNEL                                        122

      PK crawls after Doc, making his way through the small
      tunnel on his stomach.

                You know the pyramids are nothing
                more than man's attempt to recreate
                the first safe home our species
                had -- the cave. It is the
                ultimate safe resting place. The
                first place man could lay down
                and have a good night's sleep
                without worrying about waking up
                as something's supper.
      Doc stops crawling.   So does PK.   A DRIPPING can be
                You hear that? There is something
                waiting for us.

      Doc starts moving quicker.

                Let's hope it's not hungry.

      Doc squeezes out of the small space. PK joins him in a
      slightly larger tunnel, the same size as the first one
      -- stoop height.

                Better, ja?

                What's that smell?


      All of a sudden there is a RUSTLING noise.

                What's that?
      Doc recognizes the sound. He pounces on PK, knocking
      him to the floor and covering him with his body. Not
      a moment too soon. For a thousand bats fill the tunnel
      flying through.

123   PK'S POV - BATS                                           123

      flying wildly through the flashlight beams.

      In a blur, the bats are gone, disappeared into another
      tunnel entrance to the left.

124   BACK TO SCENE                                             124

      Doc an PK rise slowly. The silence of the cave is
      punctuated by the DRIPPING.

                Maybe it's stopped raining.
                Who can think about rain when you
                are on the edge of the great
                unknown cave.
                You don't know that.
                The bats didn't come from a
                shoebox, Mr. Know-It-All.

      Doc heads off.

                Sometimes I think maybe sending
                you off to that fancy-shmancy
                school was not such a good idea.

                It was your idea. Your'e the
                one who pushed for me to go.
                Ja. But who knew they do such a
                good job of boxing up part of

                your brain.

                Which part is that?

                The one where is all the
                questions. The curiosity center.

      Ahead in the tunnel is a luminous glow, filling an

                Did I tell you?

      Doc and PK hurry on.

125   THEIR POV - TUNNEL OPENING                                  125

      As they come to a tunnel opening: a large cave, perhaps
      200 feet wide by 100 feet high, filled with stalactites
      and stalagmites composed of pure, crystallized calcium

      The whole chamber    glistens with an eerie phosphorescence.
      Toward one end of    the crystallized room eight stalagmites
      grown up from the    floor cement to form a huge crystal
      slab some ten feet    off the floor. A buttress of stalg-
      mites drip off it    forming a natural, if uneven, stairway.

126   BACK TO SCENE                                               126

      Doc and PK stare at the crystal cave in amazement.

                How many hundreds of thousands of
                years to make this masterpiece?
                Everything outside can change,
                P.K. This remains the same. We
                are in the heart of Africa, P.K.
                The heart of Africa.

      Doc, in his own world of wonderment, wanders down into
      the cave among the stalactites. PK follows, soon losing
      sight of Doc behind the large crystal columns.
                              DOC (O.S.)
                You know, if a person stayed here
                for 100,000 years what would be

                left? Crystal. Like a crystal
                mummy. Incredible, ja?

                       (to himself)

      Doc's preoccupation with death irks him.   He studies a
      piece of crystal.

                I wish we had brought the camera.
                Think there's enough light to

      Doc does not answer.


      His concern rises. He moves through the maze of crystal,
      his pace quickening.


      Still no answer.

      His vision obscured, PK reaches the elevated slab. He
      clambers up the buttress for a better view. When he
      reaches the top he stops cold.

127   HIS POV - DOC                                              127

      lying on the crystal slab, eyes closed, hands folded on
      his chest.

                This is not funny.

      Doc opens his eyes.

                This is incredible! The crystal.
                You can feel the life go right
                through you. Here.

      Doc rises.

                Come try it.

128   WIDER ANGLE                                                128


                No.   That's all right.   Can we go?

                We have only just gotten here.
                What's the matter, P.K.?

                All day long you've been talking
                about becoming something else,
                about dying. You never talked
                about dying before.

                I'm 87 next month.   It's natural.

                Not to a sixteen-year-old it's
                not. It's painful.

      Doc realizes what PK is saying.
                You are right. I am sorry.
                Sixteen-year-old ears should only
                hear life.
      Doc starts to whistle "The Marriage of    Figaro" by Mozart.
      The RESONANCE of the WHISTLING off the    crystal sounds
      beautiful, exotic. Doc beckons PK to     join in with him.
      PK does so, hesitantly. Then pleased     with the sound and
      the feeling, more fully.

      Doc and PK exit through the stalactites, whistling.
                                                     CUT TO:

129   INT. DOC'S HOUSE - NIGHT                                 129
      PK and a very exhausted Doc enter. Doc sits down heavily
      on the bed while PK, shrugging off his rucksack, heads
      right for the small kitchen area.

                I'll just set you up with some
                coffee here, so in the morning you
                won't have to bother making it.

      He begins to prepare the coffee.

                I didn't mean to tell you what

          you can and can't talk about back
          in the cave today. I guess I
          just don't like to think of you
                        PK (CONT'D)
          ... becoming...
          ... something else. I know it's
          natural law and it's the way it
          is with everybody...
          I just wish it weren't with you.

There is no reply.


PK turns to Doc, dead asleep, still sitting up. PK goes
over and gently lays the old man down. He removes his
boots and throws a blanket over him. PK blows out the
kerosene lamp and goes to exit. He is about to hang
their two rucksacks on two hooks by the door when Doc's
voice turns him.


          I'm here, Doc.

          The crystal cave will be our
          secret, ja?
          Whatever you say.


          I promise.

          Ja.  Good. I rest a little.
          The heart of Africa, P.K.

Doc lays down.

          The heart.


      He is asleep when his head hits the pillow.

      PK watches Doc's chest, washed in moonlight, rise and
      fall lightly.
      A sudden sadness falls over him. The corners of his
      mouth turn up in a bittersweet smile. He finishes
      hanging the rucksack and exits.

                                                     CUT TO:

130   EXT. PRINCE OF WALES BACK GATE - NIGHT                       130

      PK and Morrie stick close in the shadows. PK looks at
      his watch and then twenty feet away to the locked gate.

                Christ! If someone would have
                told me this is where I'd be on
                a Saturday night, last term of
                my senior year, I'd call them
                You know, you're going to owe me
                for the rest of your life on this
                That all? I figured you'd hold
                me to it longer.

                You get the insider friend's
                Thanks, mate.

      A black groundskeeper comes walking along, seemingly on
      his duties.

      PK pokes Morrie.

131   THEIR POV - GROUNDSKEEPER                                    131

      walks up to the gate. He looks left and right, then
      quickly unlocks it. He walks away.

132   BACK TO SCENE                                                132

      PK and Morrie advance.    PK opens the gate.   As he does,

      Gideon Mandoma, followed by 15 men and 5 women, enters.

                I see you, P.K.

                I see you, Gideon.

                Let's get inside before the whole
                bloody world sees us.


      He clasps Morrie's hand, first in a traditional hand-
      shake, then in an African handshake. Mandoma smiles.

                You some great friend.

      Morrie is taken by his sincerity.

                Let's go.    Stay to the fence.

      The group moves out.

                                                       CUT TO:

133   INT. LIBRARY                                                 133

      The Africans are seated around desks, waiting for Morrie
      and PK to tell them what to do.

                All right, class.     I know you
                don't understand a    word I'm
                saying, but part of    learning a
                language is hearing    it spoken.
                So -- I am P.K.

      He taps his chest.

                P.K.  This...
                       (taps Morrie)
                ... is Morrie. Now you all have
                a chalkboard.

      He holds up the chalkboard.

                Chalk and an eraser.      I will say

                the letter. You will say the
                letter. I will write the letter.
                You will write the letter.

                              PK (CONT'D)
                Morrie will check the letter.
                All right? Here we go. 'A'...
                       (in Zulu)
                ... say it. 'A.'


      The door to the library suddenly opens. Everyone
      freezes. Maria enters the room. PK is stunned.

                Excuse me.
      PK hurries over to Maria. Not a word needs to be
      spoken. Her presence says everything.

                I thought you might need some
                help. Or I can just sit and

      PK hands her the chalk.
                Class. This is Maria. She is
                now the teacher.
                       (to Maria)
                We're doing alphabet, from the
                letter 'A.'

      PK takes up his position with Morrie, ready to check the
      chalkboards. Maria takes the front of the class.

134   HER POV - BLACK FACES                                      134
      before her, watching intensely.

135   BACK TO SCENE                                              135
      She battles the butterflies in her stomach as she writes
      an "A" on the blackboard. She clears her throat.


      No one says anything. Maria looks a little lost.

                       (in Zulu)
                Repeat what she says.
                       (to Maria)
                Say it again.


      She writes it on the blackboard again.   PK and Morrie
      trade a look and a smile.

                'A.'     Write 'A.'

      She mimes to the chalkboards. All the Africans obey.
      PK looks up from checking the students. Maria's eyes
      are twinkling.

                                                   CUT TO:

136   EXT. SCHOOL GATE                                           136

      The Africans are exiting. Maria, Morrie and PK stand,
      receiving their heartfelt thanks one by one. Mandoma
      is the last to leave.

                       (to Maria)
                You are one brave Boer, Miss

                Thank you.

                And you are one lucky English.
      He kids PK.   PK blushes.

                Good night, Gideon.
      He playfully pushes Gideon out the gate and closes it.
      He turns to Maria and Morrie.

                Well, I   think I'll go... um...
                lay on   my back and count the
                cracks   in the ceiling. 'Night.
                Nice to   see you, Maria.


                Good night, Morrie.

      Morrie runs off.
      PK takes Maria around.

                I am one lucky English.
      They embrace and kiss.

                P.K.     Can I ask you a favor?

                We don't have to go in    or anything.
                You can hear the music    from
                outside. I'd love to     have one
                dance with you before    I graduate.


                I feel so good. Race you to the

                You need a headstart?


      She takes off.     PK follows.

137   SOMEONE ELSE'S POV                                        137

      They disappear into the night.

138   ANGLE ON FIGURE                                           138

      in the shadows, watching them run off.

                                                    CUT TO:

139   INT. SCHOOL GYM                                           139


PK is working on a speed bag. Morrie comes running in
with two open letters in hand.

          We made it!   We made it!

He thrusts one of the letters at PK.

          Sorry. I couldn't bear the
          suspense after I read mine.   I
          had to open it.
PK looks at his letter.

          Three months and we're out of

          You're out of here.

          What the hell are you talking

He snatches PK's letter.
          'Dear sir. It is our pleasure to
          inform you that you have been
          accepted to matriculate at
          Trinity College, Oxford,' etc.,
          etc., etc.
          It says nothing about the

          A technicality.

Another BOY comes over.

          St. John wants to see you two in
          his study.

          Good news travels fast.

          I'll get showered and changed.


                He said to come as you are.

      The Boy runs off, leaving PK and Morrie wondering.

                                                      CUT TO:

140   INT. ST. JOHN'S STUDY                                       140

      PK and Morrie enter to a somber St. John.
                Wanted to see us, sir?

                                  ST. JOHN
                Yes.   Come in.     Close the door.

      As the door closes, BRIGADIER JOHANNES BRETYN, a quiet
      but formidable man, comes into their line of vision.
      Trouble is in the air.
                              ST. JOHN
                This is Brigadier Bretyn from the
                police department.

      Bretyn just nods his head.

                              ST. JOHN
                He has come to deliver, in person,
                an order to close the Saturday


                Because it is illegal.

                We're only teaching them how to
                read and do sums.

                You don't have certification to
                do that.

                Prince of Wales is a certified

                Yes.   But not certified for that

          sort of thing.

          Can he do this, sir?

          Of course I can do it. Would I
          be here if I couldn't? Come now
          meneer headmaster. Let's end
          this now. I have a full day ahead
          of me still.

St. John meets Bretyn's steely eyes.   He cannot hold the
man's gaze.

                        ST. JOHN
          The Saturday school is to be
          disbanded until further notice.

          Thank you, meneer headmaster.
          Your cooperation in this matter
          is very appreciated. Good day.

Bretyn goes to exit.

          You know it can't go on like this

St. John tenses.

          What can't?

          What you're doing.

          I'm just doing my job. And if
          you'll take some advice, you
          should just do yours.

Bretyn exits.

          Is that really the end of it, sir?

                        ST. JOHN
          For the moment I'm afraid it is.
          If we let them get away with it
          on our own grounds, it will never

          change.   It'll just get worse.

                        ST. JOHN
          History disputes you.

          History takes too long.

                        ST. JOHN
          Yes it does. But it is never
          kind to those who try to hurry it.

          I feel we should resist, sir.

                         ST. JOHN
          So do I, P.K. But this is not a
          subtle government. They mean to
          have their way and damn the
          consequences. And I cannot
          jeopardize this school, no matter
          how I personally feel. I'm sorry.
          I heard you were accepted at

          Yes, sir.   Received notification

                        ST. JOHN
          Well, congratulations.

          Thank you, sir.

St. John looks at PK who remains silent.

                        ST. JOHN
          To both of you.

          Thank you, sir.

An uncomfortable silence lingers.
                        ST. JOHN
          We'll talk before you go.

          Yes, sir.   Will that be all?

                        ST. JOHN
          That'll be all.


      PK turns immediately and exits.     Morrie and St. John
      trade an uncomfortable look.

                                                    CUT TO:

141   INT. HALLWAY                                                   141

      PK walks down the hall, anger building in his face.       He
      exits the hall.

                                                    CUT TO:

142   EXT. DEVILLIERS SCHOOL                                         142

      PK comes up to the main gate.     A GUARD stops him.
                I'd like to see Maria Marais

      The Guard checks his list.

                Sorry. She's not allowed
                Well, if I could just talk to her.


      PK backs away and moves off down the street.     He turns
      the corner.

143   HIS POV - TREE                                                 143

      he uses to scale the wall is in the process of being
      cut down.

                                                    CUT TO:

144   INT. PK'S ROOM - PRE-DAWN                                      144

      Morrie is asleep.   PK wakes him.

                Morrie.   Morrie.



                I want to show you something.

                What time is it?

      He looks at his watch and turns over.

                Can I see it later?

                No.   Come on.

      He pulls Morrie out of bed.     Morrie groggily starts
      pulling his clothes on.

                You know, when we get to Oxford
                -- separate rooms.

                Will you hurry.

                Is there some girl out there
                waiting for me?
                Yeah. Stunning. Breasts like
                casabas. Just waiting for you.


      PK throws a jersey into his chest and pulls him out of
      the room.

                                                    CUT TO:

145   EXT. PRINCE OF WALES CAMPUS                                145

      The campus is swaddled in early morning fog.

      PK and Morrie stand on the side of the school chapel
      while a black groundsman opens the door to the basement.

                What do you think?
                I think you're fooling yourself
                into thinking the bastards won't

                come after us in here.

      The groundskeeper opens the door to the basement.       The
      boys enter.

                                                    CUT TO:

146   INT. BASEMENT                                                 146

      PK switches on a light switch to a cavernous space
      cluttered with old desks, blackboards and church pews.

                This is a church. Didn't you
                ever hear of the Christian concept
                of sanctuary?

                Yes. But I'm not the one who
                has to respect it.

                Even the Boer has limits, Morrie.

                I'm sure he does, but I'd still
                like to see a big bolt on the
                inside door.

                Mr. Levy?

      The Caretaker pulls a large deadbolt out of his pocket,
      with a smile.

                                                    CUT TO:

147   INT. SOLLY'S GYM                                              147

      Mandoma and PK, both with protective equipment on,
      square off.

                Now move it nice and easy, the
                both of you. Time.

      PK and Mandoma circle.   Mandoma throws a jab.

                They want us to close the school.

      PK counters.

                  I know.

      Mandoma lays in a combination.

                  We are still game.

      PK throws a combination.

                  So are we.

                  Would you two find some other
                  time to chat. This is a boxing
                  ring, not a social club.

      Mandoma and PK start boxing in earnest, both smiling.

                                                      CUT TO:

148   EXT. DEVILLIERS SCHOOL - NIGHT                                 148

      A watchman makes his rounds. He passes by     Maria's
      window. When he is gone, PK appears from     behind a tree.
      He taps on the window. Maria comes to the     window and
      sees him. Her face lights up. She opens      the window.

                  I was in the neighborhood.
      Maria puts her finger to her lips and waves him in.       PK
      climbs through the window.
                                                      CUT TO:

149   INT. ROOM                                                      149
      Maria points to the door.

      She puts a record on her phonograph. She turns to PK
      and embraces him fiercely, holding on tight.
                  They're sending me away to school
                  in Pretoria. I told my father I
                  wouldn't go. He said if I didn't
                  he'd see they arrest you and ruin
                  your chances. I couldn't let him
                  do that.


150   ANGLE ON PK'S PAINED FACE                                       150

      as he holds Maria.
                When do you go?

                Next week.
                I want to make love to you, P.K.
      PK's eyes fill with her words.     She releases him.    They
      look at each other.

                I do.

      PK leans forward and kisses her, awkward, as if for the
      first time. As their lips part, their breath shortens.
      Maria moves forward slowly, lifting PK's hand to her
      breast. He touches it. The heat builds. Passion
      overwhelms them. They begin to make love.

                                                    CUT TO:

151   INT. ROOM - LATER                                         151

      Maria sleeps peacefully in PK's arms on her small bed.
      PK lies awake, staring at the ceiling. He rises quietly
      so as not to wake her. He pulls on his clothes, gently
      brushes a wisp of hair away from her eyes, kisses her
      forehead, and exits through the window into the breaking

                                                    CUT TO:

152   EXT. SCHOOL GROUNDS - NIGHT                                     152
      PK and Morrie    stand by a side gate near the athletic
      field looking    alertly about. The gate  opens. The
      Africans led    by Mandoma come through.  PK and Morrie
      greet them.     When they are all through Morrie closes
      the gate and    runs after them.

                                                    CUT TO:

153   EXT. ATHLETIC FIELD - STANDS                                    153
      A man with a walkie-talkie sits in the shadows, watching
      25 people run across the athletic field. He talks into
      his walkie-talkie.


                                                    CUT TO:

154   INT. CHAPEL BASEMENT                                        154

      The light switch is  on. The four lights above the
      center of the room  illuminate a classroom area -- desks
      set up in neat rows  with stools, a blackboard. The
      other furniture has  been piled high against the walls on
      either side of the  room where the light does not reach.
                If you'll all be seated we can

      The Africans head toward their desks.    PK turns to

                So far so good.

      Morrie's response is to throw the new deadbolt into its
      slot with a skeptical eye.
      PK takes his place at the head of the class.

                I want to thank you all for
                having the courage to come
                       (in Zulu)
                Thank you.

                       (in Zulu)
                You're welcome.
                I will be teaching the first part
                of class tonight and Mr. Levy will
                teach the second.
      A woman whispers something to Mandoma.     Mandoma raises
      his hand.


                Miss Marais.   Will she not be
                Not anymore.

This causes a flurry among the women.

PK writes on the blackboard the word "see."


He says the word in Zulu.

          I see.    You see.     We see.

He moves his hands, eliciting response.
          I see.    You see. We see.

PK holds up a book with a picture of a boy.


          I see the boy.

          I see the boy.

PK holds up another picture.

          Girl.    I see the girl.

          I see the girl.

There is a KNOCK on the door.       Everyone freezes.

          P.K., it's me.

Morrie pulls the bolt, opening and shutting the door
PK and Maria look at each other.

          I wanted to say goodbye to my
          ... and to you.

      The four women in the class speak in unison.

                We see the girl.

      Maria smiles, surprised.

      The moment is shortlived as a SOUND from behind the
      pews in the rear of the room turns everyone.

      In the shadows, risen from behind the piles of furniture
      against the two opposite walls, stand 20 policemen with
      long menacing riot sticks.
      Bretyn steps into the light.

      Mandoma gives a command and the Africans form a phalanx
      around the women.
                Once warned.     Twice punished.

                You're violating the sanctity
                of the church.

                No. You are with your damned
                race mixing ideas, rooinek.

155   ANGLE ON MORRIE                                            155

      by the door, slowly slipping the bolt lock, trying
      to remain innocuous while doing so.

      PK sees him and trades a look with Mandoma, who also
      sees what Morrie is doing.

                At least let the women go.
                You want everything to be equal,
                little Boetie. Why not men and
                women too?
      Just then Morrie throws the bolt.

      He goes to charge out the door, but to his chagrin the
      door does not open, locked from the outside.

      Bretyn smiles cruelly.

                 Locks keep people out but they
                 also keep them in.
      He has walked right up to Morrie, not taking his eyes
      off Morrie's for a moment. Morrie meets his gaze evenly.
      The moment is broken as Bretyn's baton slams into Morrie's
      stomach, dropping him to this knees.
                 Get up, you bloody commie Jew!
      He bangs Morrie hard in the jaw, knocking him out cold.

      The two police lines start to move towards each other,
      sandwiching the Africans, PK and Maria.

      Mandoma gives an order. The blacks pick up anything
      they can to face the inevitable--stools, chairs, a

                 No.    Wait.   We'll leave.
                 Too late. You never should have
                 come. At the ready.

      The two police lines tense to charge forward.

      The blacks brace to defend.
                 No!    Stop!


      The police charge from both ends of the room, yelling,
      clubs held high.

      The Africans respond with their own war cry and engage
      the club-swinging police.

      A policeman swings at PK who ducks and buries a hook
      into the man's ribs followed by another to his jaw.
      The man goes down.

156   PK'S POV                                                  156


      Morrie has risen to take a policeman out with a stool
      over his head.

      Two other police beat Morrie from behind.   He goes
      down once again under their brutal clubs.

157   BACK TO SCENE                                             157

      PK turns just as another club comes for his head. He
      slips past the blow and punches out his assailant with
      a lightning combination. As the man falls another
      cop charges from behind.


      PK turns off-balance. Maria leaps. The club cuts
      through the air. Maria is caught flush on the forehead
      as she comes between PK and the club. She falls to
      the floor dead. PK swings a stool with all his might,
      breaking the cop's face open.

      PK drops to the fallen girl's side. He is frantic at
      the sight of her gaping bloody wound and the sight of
      her open blank eyes. The battle raging around him
      recedes before his pain and rising rage. All at once
      he explodes, screaming like a madman.

      He leaps at Bretyn and bangs one punch after another
      into the startled man. Bretyn's face is broken over and
      over against PK's fists. Still PK keeps pounding blow
      after blow into the fallen man.

      Three cops descend on PK and beat him mercilessly
      until he drops to the floor, unconscious.

      Mandoma is hit hard and goes down.

      The few Africans left fighting go down before the
      withering assault of clubs, fists, and boots.

158   EXT. CEMETERY - DAY                                       158

      Maria's funeral.

      Hundreds of Afrikaaners are gathered.

      Daniel Marais and his wife stand by the open grave,
      grieving, as the minister reads the final prayers.


      The coffin is lowered.

      Daniel Marais steps forward and shovels the first dirt
      down after it. As Marais looks up he sees PK standing
      behind the mourners, 20 yards off. His anger replaces

      Marais advances towards PK, clutching the shovel as a
      weapon. Several MEN restrain him.
                Daniel.    No.
      Marais glares at PK.

      All of a sudden a thousand African voices cut through
      the air, SINGING songs of mourning.
                                                  CUT TO:

159   EXT. CEMETERY WALL                                        159
      Thousands of Africans and a smattering of whites have
      gathered outside the cemetery. The singing rises from

      Gideon, Morrie, St. John and Solly stand in front of
      the crowd.

                                                  CUT TO:

160   EXT. CEMETERY                                             160
      Marais glares at PK, tears of rage in his eyes.

      PK stands his ground.

      Marais turns away, back to his daughter's grave.

      PK stands, tears streaming down his cheeks, as the

161   INT. PK'S ROOM - DAY                                      161

      PK sits at his desk filling out application forms.

      Morrie enters.   He picks one up off the desk and looks
      at it.


                You're applying to South African

                In case the scholarship doesn't
                come through.

                Why are you so bloody stubborn?
                You don't belong in a South
                African university any more than
                I belong in the priesthood.
                Will you take my father's loan?

      PK takes the applications back just as a TELEGRAPH
      DELIVERY BOY comes to the door.

                There a Mr. P.K. here?

                It's your scholarship.
      Morrie grabs the telegram.

                Sign here.   Odd name -- P.K.
                What's your name?


                You're not one to talk about

      Morrie scribbles his signature and proceeds to open
      the telegram.
      PK snatches it away from him. He pulls the telegram
      out. His face falls to worry.

                What's it say?

                Doc's missing.

                                                   CUT TO:

162   INT. DOC'S HOUSE                                         162

      PK walks through the small house followed by Commandant
      Von Zyl. Nothing is out of place.

                              VON ZYL
                Since his pneumonia last year
                I've had one of the men drop
                by once a week to see if he
                needed anything. Of course
                you know the professor. He
                never did.
      PK looks out at the cactus garden, watered now by drip
                              VON ZYL
                At the beginning of the week he
                wasn't home so I decided to drop
                by myself. Waited a whole day
                here. When he didn't come back
                I sent search parties. After
                three days I sent the telegram.
                Seven days is a long time for
                him to be gone. Do you have
                any ideas where he went?

      PK looks at the pegs where the rucksacks hang.    There
      is only one hanging.

                                                   CUT TO:

163   EXT. JUNGLE FLOOR                                         163

      PK hikes along, watching the trail. His eyes spot
      something. He kneels over the remains of a small
      campsite. PK touches the ashes. His eyes rise to the
      escarpment soaring above the jungle floor.

                                                   CUT TO:

164   EXT. ESCARPMENT CLIFF FACE                                      164

      PK climbs along the cliff face.   He drops down into the
      entrance to the crystal cave.

                                                   CUT TO:

165   INT. CRYSTAL CAVE                                         165

      PK stands at the bottom of the crystal slab almost
      dreading what he will find. He resolutely climbs the
      stalagmites to reach the top. PK's eye level shifts
      from below the slab to even with it, then to above it.
      As his sight rises Doc's corpse comes INTO VIEW --

      laid out, serene hands clasped on his chest. From
      above the stalactites drip onto his body ever so
      slowly, turning him, molecule by molecule, into

      PK stands off to one side.

166   HIS POV                                                    166

      a small metal box by Doc's feet.

167   BACK TO SCENE                                              167

      PK picks it up and opens it. Inside is a letter.    PK
      unfolds it, and with trembling hands reads:

                              DOC (V.O.)
                So Mr. Schmartypants. It did not
                take you so long to figure out
                what happened. I hope you
                forgive me for not saying goodbye,
                but I did not think it would be
                necessary between us. What could
                I say you don't already know.

                               DOC (V.O.) (CONT'D)
                That I love you with all my heart?
                That you have given me more in our
                ten years of friendship than three
                lifetimes could fill? That the
                last thoughts I have before
                becoming something else will be
                of music, cactus, and you? You
                know all this.

      PK turns the sheet to page two which is a whole side of

                              DOC (V.O.)
                Last night this music came into
                my head. It is my music for
                Africa. My music for you. So
                go. Be welterweight champion of
                the world. Be a writer. A great
                writer. Remember -- the only
                thing between a dream and a
                reality is you. Until we meet
                again, your friend, Doc.
      PK looks down at Doc as a PIANO CONCERTO, beautiful,
      haunting, BEGINS TO PLAY.

                                                        FADE TO:

168   INT. DOC'S HOUSE - NIGHT                                     168

      PK plays the music Doc wrote with only the moonlight
      illuminating the page. The music is soul-stirring,
      rich, evocative. Tears run down PK's cheeks.

      illuminating the African veldt as the MUSIC dominates
      and then FADES into the night.

                                                        CUT TO:

169   EXT. JOHANNESBURG TRAIN STATION - DAWN                             169

      The overnight train pulls in.         PK disembarks.

170   HIS POV - STATION CLOCK                                            170

      reads 6:30.

      PK exits the station.

                                                        CUT TO:

171   EXT. GOLDMAN'S GYM                                                 171

      PK comes down the street. A police car sits in front
      of the gym. The two cops inside eye PK. He eyes
      them back and enters the building.

                                                        CUT TO:

172   INT. GYM                                                           172

      The gym is empty. PK enters and is stopped by the
      uncustomary silence.

                 Hello?     Mr. G?     Anyone here?
                                     SOLLY (O.S.)
                 In here.

      PK heads for the office. He finds Solly packing up
      his mementos from the cluttered office.

                 Mr. Goldman, why isn't anybody

          training?    What's going on?

          A repeat performance of history,
          my boy. Solly Goldman's being
          deported. Of course last time I
          didn't have the luxury of being
          able to pack.

          For what reason?

          Their reason is that I'm here
          illegal. I didn't enter the
          country with a passport. Like
          the Czar was issuing passports
          to Russian Jews in 1910.
          This is because of me, isn't it?

          No, boychick. This is because
          of them. They are the problem,
          not you. Don't ever think
          different. You look tired.
          Want a glass tea?
          No, no.   I have to get back to

Solly opens his arms.   PK hugs him.

          You got your head screwed on
          right. Don't let these
          meshuganahs screw it on wrong.
          Now go on. You want to find
          me, look at Benny Rosen's gym
          in East End, London.

          Thank you for everything.

          We're not finished yet.

PK smiles and exits.

Solly waits for a moment, then goes back to packing.

                                             CUT TO:


173   EXT. PRINCE OF WALES SCHOOL - MORNING                     173

      PK comes up to the school gates. He notices two plain-
      clothes police cars just across the road. PK enters
      with a growing sense of uneasiness.

                                                    CUT TO:

174   INT. PK'S DORM                                            174
      PK hurries down the hall to his room. He opens the
      door to Daniel Marais, sitting at his desk, reading
      from his fiction-filled notebook.

                You're a very good writer. The
                subject matter is a little
                inflammatory but the style is

                What are you doing here?
                I came to inform you that you
                will not be receiving aid from
                the National Scholarship Fund.
                Neither will you be admitted to
                any of the South African
                universities. Here are your
                applications back.

      He hands PK the applications as he rises.

                I told you when you came to my
                house. I am first a member of
                my tribe and I will defend it
                any way I know how.

      He and PK glare at each other, implacable enemies.
      Marais exits.

      PK looks out his window, thinking.

175   HIS POV - MARAIS                                          175

      walking off across the campus.

                              MORRIE (O.S.)
                They don't want you here any more
                than they want me.


176   BACK TO SCENE                                                176

      PK turns.

                  Take the hint. Screw the
                  scholarship. Come on. Let's

                  If I leave or if I stay in South
                  Africa it's because I choose to,
                  not because they choose for me.

      He takes a small handbag, throws a few books into it
      and Doc's picture. He picks up his notebook and
      packs that too. He goes to exit.
                  Where are you going?

                  Save my place at Oxford.

      PK exits the room.

      Morrie chases after him.
                  P.K., goddammit!

      He grabs PK, stopping him.
                  Save my place.
      Morrie's grip releases.

      PK walks out.

                                                      FADE TO:

177   EXT. COPPER MINE - DAY                                       177

      Hundreds upon hundreds of black laborers and white
      mine workers descend into the mines. A milling mass of
      disenfranchised humanity come to work the underground
      hell of the copper mines.

      PK exits the management shack and walks through the

                                   PK (V.O.)
                  Dear Morrie.     Here is how it works.

                The copper of the mines in
                Northern Rhodesia is mined below
                ground. All day a behemoth of a
                man, a diamond driller, works a
                stope which is like the top of a

                                                   CUT TO:

178   INT. STOPE                                              178

      A huge diamond driller at work drilling and blasting in
      the stope.

                              PK (V.O.)
                Setting charges and drilling the
                rock. The only way for the raw
                ore he takes from the sides of
                the stope to get to the haulage
                below is to pass through the spout
                of a funnel and out the steel
                doors at the bottom -- sixty feet

                                                   CUT TO:

179   TRAPPED DOORS AT BOTTOM OF FUNNEL                             179

      opening, as the haulage cart fills with ore and moves
      away on the track in the tunnel below.

                              PK (V.O.)
                Halfway down the spout area is a
                set of six tungsten steel bars
                called a grizzly which catch all
                the rocks too large to make it
                through the funnel mouth to safe

180   ANGLE ON GRIZZLY                                              180

      six bars with men working them.

                              PK (V.O.)
                These are taken care of by a
                grizzly, an explosives expert
                whose job it is to keep the ore
                flowing, and since when the ore
                doesn't flow, neither does the
                money, working the grizzly is a
                very crucial and therefore very
                well-paid position. Three months'

                work earns a year's    stay at
                Oxford. Yesterday,     on receiving
                my blasting license    from the
                School of Mines, I    signed on to
                work the bars for a    year.
                                                      CUT TO:

181   INT. MINER'S BAR                                            181
      A crude place where the bar runs the back length of the
      room and the bare concrete surroundings offer nothing in
      the way of diversion from the main purpose of being there
      -- to drink hard and long.

      THOMAS, a harsh, ruddy-faced Welshman, the School of
      Mines instructor, downs a drink, pours another and looks
      up at PK.

                Are you crazy?     To sign on for
                a year?
                You said I was the best you ever
                taught, sir.

                And you are, boyo. The absolute

                              THOMAS (CONT'D)
                But even the best doesn't survive
                a year on the bars. Down in that
                damn tube the luck runs out sooner
                than later. You may be a genius
                at reading the rock but you ain't
                no fuckin' fortune teller.

      Thomas throws back another drink.
                You worked grizzly a year.

                And let me show you what I have
                to show for it to this day.

      He holds up his hand.   It shakes noticeably.

                And that's thirteen years after
                the fact, boyo.

A NOISE from the doorway turns Thomas's attention. He
looks over as four huge men enter, drillers, men whose
faces and bodies are as hard and massive as the rock
they work.

One of the men pauses at the door and grabs his head as
an enormous jolt of pain runs through it. He shakes it
off and follows his friends to a table.

Thomas looks concerned.
          Something wrong?

The BARTENDER comes over and puts another shot in front
of Thomas.

          One double brandy. One...
          lemon soda.

He puts the lemon soda in front of PK.

          Come on, then.

Thomas lifts his glass.

          On being the best damned blaster
          ever taught by Ian Thomas.

Thomas and PK clink glasses.     Thomas knocks his shot back.


The bartender pours another.

          Sure you don't want one?

          I don't like the taste.

          Taste?     You don't drink for the

      He holds out his hand. It is steady now. He fixes PK
      with a portentous stare. Thomas looks over at the table
      of drillers. The man with the headache is downing one
      shot after another.

                Hell's comin'.

      He draws PK's attention to the drillers.

                Drillers. He's got a powder
                pain from breathin' too much of
                that damn gelignite. The pain's
                bad enough. Mixed with a little
                alcohol it's fuckin' lethal.

      He watches the driller down two more shots of liquor.
                Come on.   We ain't got much time.

      Thomas directs PK towards the door.
                The two most dangerous things
                you'll ever see in your life,
                boyo: a hangup of rock that
                won't blast free on first shot
                and a driller with a powder
                headache drinkin'.

      As they reach the door the behemoth explodes with a
      roar. He grabs his head and staggers backwards; a mad
      look comes into his eyes.

      His three huge frineds rush to grab him.   He throws
      them off as if they were ants.

      He rips a table out of its bolting to the concrete
      floor and flings it across the room.
      The men drinking in the bar, all tough cases, begin to

      Thomas grabs PK whose eyes stare in amazement as the
      behemoth struggles against his three massive friends
      and pulls him out of the bar.

                                                     CUT TO:

182   EXT. MINER'S CAMP - TWILIGHT                               182

      Pk is watching a rugby match being played at twilight.
      The players are a rough, brutal bunch and play their

      game accordingly.   Fights continually break out.

      Off a play a fight breaks out. One of the men is kicked
      unconscious. Two of his teammates carry him off the
      field, dumping his body unceremoniously like a sack of
      potatoes on the sidelines. They run back as play

      PK turns and walks back through the camp.

                                                  CUT TO:

183   EXT. CAMP - NIGHT                                       183
      A company-built miner's camp. Cement huts with steel
      doors and corrugated roofs. No shrubbery, only dust,
      cement, and the roughest-looking bunch of men assembled
      on earth.
                              PK (V.O.)
                Dear Morrie. To answer your
                question: yes--sports are played
                here, but only in the loosest
                sense of the words "sport" and
                "play". The rules are
                different for everything, in
                games as well as in the rest of
                our lives. The managers, the
                foremen, the company people.
                They live apart from the miners.
                They have families. Proper
                gardens. Sunday dinners. The
                miners--the crud, as we are called
                -- don't. This is a society of
                men, many of whom have pasts
                better left behind. Future does
                not apply. It is a society only
                in the loosest sense of the word.
                The laws of survival are simple--
                you either do or you don't.

      PK comes down a side street. A half a dozen men at
      cards, hard-faced desperadoes, see him pass, eyeing him
      closely. PK averts his eyes. From behind his back
      comes the sound of LIPS PUCKERING loudly, indecently.
      PK swallows hard. The sound of a CHARGE turns him to
      the six men bolting from their card game after him,
      whooping with lascivious intent. PK takes off.

      The chase takes PK and his pursuers flying through the
      streets of the camp, past one identical cement hut after
      another.  People watch, disinterested. No one raises
      a hand to help.

      PK comes racing around the corner to three of the men

      blocking the street in front of him. He whirls. The
      others catch up behind, yelling and hooting. The two
      lines advance.

      PK gets ready. When the first man is close enough he
      hits him hard, breaking his jaw. He swings at another,
      catching him flush in the face. But then the rest are
      upon him. Even though PK fights like hell, he is
      overwhelmed. The blows come from everywhere, beating
      him to the ground. His arms and legs are firmly grabbed
      by four men. He is banged hard face down onto a concrete
      table. The fifth man pulls down his pants and the sixth
      begins to undo his own fly. All the men scream obsceni-
      ties, anticipating the rape.

      PK struggles like hell to no avail. As he is about to
      be violated, a roaring giant of a man tears into the
      pack like a bear shredding dogs. He scatters the men,
      knocking some unconscious, sending the rest to flight.
      He stands over PK, a looming block of granite with a
      wild black beard and coal-black eyes. His intent only
      becomes clear as to whether he is claiming a prize or
      helping a friend when he offers PK his hand, lifting PK

      He examines PK's bruised face with some concern and
      then smiles.

                You know, Rasputin, I had them
                right where I wanted them.
                Another minute they were done
      Rasputin claps PK on the back and addresses him in
      Russian, to which PK responds with a smile. The two men
      walk off together.

                                                   CUT TO:

184   INT. PK'S HUT - NIGHT                                        184

      A TCHAIKOVSKY SYMPHONY plays on a rickety   OLD RECORD
      PLAYER. PK works out on a speed bag and    a heavy bag he
      has hung in the room while Rasputin, the   giant Russian,
      sits next to the record player, finishes   drinking a
      bottle of brandy, tears running down his   face as he fol-
      lows the symphony. When he finishes the    bottle he takes
      another one out of a case sitting by his   side and begins
      to drink anew.
                              PK (V.O.)
                Friendships are rare--arising
                out of mutual need rather than

                any shared interests. But they
                do exist and even flourish.
                Except between the drillers and
                their grizzlies. No one wants to
                get too close to the man who
                might be buried at night by what
                you drilled loose in the day.

                                                       CUT TO:

185   EXT.   MINE - NIGHT                                          185

      PK inspects his nightly quota of gelignite charges and

      Five Africans, all serious faces, keep their eyes firmly
      on PK.
                              PK (V.O.)
                The Africans who come here
                looking for work are driven by a
                different desperation--drought,
                famine, locusts.

      Satisfied with the equipment, PK nods for the box to be

      ELIJAH, his head man, closes the boxes.

                               PK (V.O.)
                They come and risk their    lives to
                send money back home to    the
                families sitting on the    barren
                farms, starving, waiting    for
                death or rain.
      When the boxes are closed the other five men in the crew
      lift them and follow PK out.

                                                       CUT TO:

186   INT. MINE ELEVATOR                                           186

      The elevator descends into the mine.
                              PK (V.O.)
                Superstition runs deep in them,
                so a good grizzly man attracts a
                good crew. On the bars, the
                longer you live the luckier you
                are. And by association -- they

                                                    CUT TO:

187   INT. TUNNEL                                               187

      PK and his crew make their way through a narrow tunnel
      and come to the grizzly. It is dark. The only light
      comes from the lamps attached to their helmets.
      Boulders litter the bars.

      PK and Elijah are onto the bars first.   Their light
      beams move along across the boulders.

                Baas.   Baas.

      PK turns to Elijah. His lamp catches Elijah's face
      which is looking upward. PK looks up.

      His POV in the narrow bands of light: a bunch of rocks
      big and small, packed into the funnel. His face grows

                                                    CUT TO:

188   CLOSEUP ON HANGUP OF ROCKS                                188

      Five feet across a rock wall with stones of all sizes
      blocking up the funnel's mouth.

                              PK (V.O.)
                Hangups are the worst of it.
                When the top of the funnel gets
                blocked up and the ore won't

      PK scales the sheer rock wall of the funnel, his shirt
      packed with explosives.

                              PK (V.O.)
                The only way to unblock it is to
                set a charge to blow inward. And
                the only way to do that is to set
                the charge in mud, which means
                climbing up to the mouth of the
                stope and coming face-to-face
                with the devil.

      PK reaches the hangup. He works at taking a prepared
      parcel of gelignite sticks and jamming them carefully
      into a crevice. As he does the hangup creaks deeply,
      shifting, ominous. A few rocks fall. PK freezes,
      holding his breath.

                                                    CUT TO:


189   THE AFRICANS                                               189

      peeking out of the safety shaft below, terrified.
      Elijah remains on the grizzly bars, his light shining on

                                                    CUT TO:

190   PK                                                         190

      holding very still, listening.
                              PK (V.O.)
                Sometimes the rock doesn't need
                the provocation of explosives.
                Sometimes the earth shifts...
                a pebble moves...
                you talk too loud...
                and in the moment before you are
                turned into something else by
                fifty tons of rock you understand
                why it is called grizzly.

      PK finishes setting the charge. He scales down the wall.
      A large rock is expelled from the hangup and comes
      bouncing down the sides to the funnel, just missing PK,
      crashing through the bars below.

      PK freezes. Elijah holds his breath.   The crew in the
      safty tunnel quakes.

      Nothing happens.

      PK comes down the rest of the way. He takes the cordtex
      rope dangling from the bomb and inserts a fuse. He nods
      to Elijah. Elijah lights a cheesa stick. He hands the
      glowing stick to PK. PK waves towards the tunnel. One
      of the Africans sounds the WARNING WHISTLE. Two blasts
      followed by two blasts. PK nods for Elijah to be off.
      Elijah stands his ground.

                I wait for you, baas.

      PK lights the fuse. Elijah takes off like a scared
      rabbit for the safety of the shaft.
      PK is right on his tail.

      The fuse travels quickly toward the bomb.


      Elijah trips. PK, coming behind him, grabs him by the
      collar and flings him into the safety tunnel, diving
      after him a second later, just as the BOMB EXPLODES. A
      few rocks come down, but nothing else.
      The Africans look at each other with real apprehension.

      PK rises from Elijah and peeks out.

191   HIS POV - HANGUP                                           191

      is still in place.

      PK studies the hangup, stepping out onto the grizzly,
      listening, looking. The hangup groans. The Africans
      are petrified at the mouth of the tunnel.
      PK stops midway on the bars. He studies the hangup
      intently, then picks up a rock. Choosing a target he
      heaves the rock with all his might toward the hangup
      and runs like hell. The rock hits the hangup. PK
      springs off the grizzly, right into the Africans as the
      hangup thunders down. Dust and small rocks fill the
      safety tunnel.

      When the avalanche has stopped PK raises himself off the
      Africans. They are all covered in dust but smiling and
      babbling, happy to be alive.

      PK peeks out and up. He signals to Elijah who hits the
      LL-CLEAR WHISTLE. Three blasts.
                Let's clean her off and call it
                a night, hey?

      Happy, the Africans lift shovels and crowbars to clear
      the bars. As they pass PK they touch him reverentially
      as one would an icon.
                              PK (V.O.)
                The Africans think the longer you
                survive the luckier you are. And
                the luckier you are the longer you
                survive. I know there's something
                inherently wrong with their logic.
                Still, I'm beginning to see their
                point. Especially with less than
                six months to go.
                                                  CUT TO:

192   INT. PK'S HUT - NIGHT                                   192

      PK and Rasputin play a game of chess as TCHAIKOVSKY
      plays in the background.

      There is a KNOCK on the DOOR.

                Come in.

      JOCKO, the bookmaker, enters.

                Ay, man. If you'd let him win
                once in a while we could take a
                little book on it here.

                He doesn't care if he wins.     He
                just likes to play.

                And you?
                I like to win.

                Which    is why I'm about visiting
                you.     You've come on the board,
                man.     There are odds on your
                making    it or not.

                How are they?

                Not in your favor, my boy.

                Why are you telling me this,

                When you come up on the boards,
                boyo, it's time to bow out.
                It's an omen.

                I bow out you can't make book.
                PK, it's not a bet I want to


          Tell me, Jocko, how high will the
          odds go on something like this?

          The shorter your time, the higher
          they go. With you probably ten,
          twelve, thirteen to one when
          you're short a month.
          When the odds hit the top put me
          in against all bets for two
          hundred quid.

          I did not come here to solicit
          your bet.

          I know that. I appreciate it.
          But if you don't take it,
          someone else will.

          All  right. You're a bleery fool.
          And  I'll be prayin' every night
          it's  the only bet I ever have to
          pay  off on.

          And so will I.
Jocko rises to exit.

          You should let him win once in a

          When he wins it won't be because
          I let him.

Rasputin says something in Russian as he moves a piece,
excited to have taken one of PK's pieces. PK turns and
checkmates him.


Rasputin laughs, speaks in Russian, and starts to set
the board up again.

Jocko exits.


                                                   CUT TO:

193   INT. MINE ELEVATOR                                         193
      The elevator descends into the shaft. PK and his crew
      exit. There is a low sound of a blast, muffled, that
      stops them all.

                Did you hear a blast whistle?

                No, baas.

      Then after a moment the vague sound of a drill leaps
      through the rock.
                I never heard a drill at night.

      The Africans get nervous.   They chatter to one another.
                It's not a ghost. It's just some
                driller trying to squeeze extra
                pay. Come on.
      PK moves forward. The Africans follow him out of the
      elevator with reluctance.

                                                   CUT TO:
194   INT. END OF TUNNEL                                         194

      PK steps out onto the bars with Elijah and examines the


      There is a tremor of fear in his voice.   PK follows
      Elijah's face upwards to a hangup.

                Not the first bloody thing!

                Bad sign, baas.
                Bad drilling's more like it.
                Come on. Let's get it going.


      Elijah goes back to fix the charge while PK studies
      the hangup. He hears the Africans talking in the dark.
      When his light points on them they stop, turning their
      heads away.
      Elijah comes back with the bomb.

                What's the matter with them?

                They say juju. Bad magic is
                in the mine tonight.

      PK heeds the warning, somberly. He takes the bomb from
      Elijah and starts to climb the wall.
      TRACK with PK as he makes it up to the hangup.

      He quickly seals the bomb and drops the cordtex.

                                                  CUT TO:

195   ELIJAH                                                   195

      on the bars, catching the rope. He is growing more
      nervous by the moment as he fastens the fuse.

                                                  CUT TO:

196   PK                                                       196
      making it down the side of the tunnel.

      The hangup shifts.   PK freezes.

                                                  CUT TO:

197   THE AFRICANS                                             197
      peeking out of the safety tunnel, scared.

                                                  CUT TO:

198   ELIJAH                                                   198

      scared, but standing his ground.

                                                  CUT TO:

199   PK                                                       199

making it back onto the bars. He carefully makes his
way to Elijah as the hangup sends some pebbles down.

          She's playing with us tonight.
          Fuse set?

Elijah nods.

PK holds his hand out for the cheesa stick. Elijah
lights the flare. He goes to hand it to PK. PK
notices Elijah's hands shaking. He sees the fear in
Elijah's eyes.
          Go on.

          I stay with you, baas.

          That's an order.

Elijah, released from his responsibility, retreats

PK stands holding the flare, a little distracted by
Elijah's fear, wondering.
Elijah sounds the BLAST WHISTLE.

          One... two... three.
A MUFFLED BLAST comes from the other side of the hangup
deep in the stope. PK freezes, confused, and then a
SECOND BLAST goes off. The hangups starts to give. And

PK lights his own fuse and runs like hell over the bars
toward the tunnel.
The hangup, loosened by the explosions inside, gives
before PK's bomb ignites. The rock is crashing down.
PK races the rock. The tunnel is within sight.

The men yell for him to jump.

PK is about to leap when a rock hits the bar, bounces up,
and catches him in the stomach. He  loses his balance
and goes over the side as the hangup comes crashing down.
PK hits the wall of the lower funnel -- once, twice --
and then lands in the soft stuff -- the shale flake,
cushioning the steel doors below.


200   HIS POV                                                    200

      against the wall of rock.

      A rock ledge carelessly left when the funnel was
      originally built.

      PK rolls under it. A moment later fifty tons of ore in
      large chunks and small chunks and dust comes crashing
      down, burying PK. He lays there, semiconscious, buried
      but alive.

                                                  CUT TO:

201   INT. TUNNEL                                                201

      The falling rock has stopped. The   funnel is full. The
      bars as well. Elijah and the crew   look out of the
      safety tunnel tremulously. Elijah   looks up the stope.
      His light catches a man at the very  top of the stope
      climbing out.

      Elijah pulls the WARNING WHISTLE.   Five blasts over and

                                                  CUT TO:

202   INT. HAULAGE                                               202

      Men hear the WHISTLE and stop work.

                                                  CUT TO:
203   INT. LASHERS                                               203

      Men shovelling ore stop shovelling.

                                                  CUT TO:

204   INT. TUNNEL                                                204

      Rasputin is timbering with his crew, fitting huge timbers
      into place, making new haulage, when he hears the

      He yells at his crew to grab the tools and he runs off
      down the tunnel.

                                                  CUT TO:

205   INT. PK'S GRIZZLY                                       205

      A deep hole has been dug through    the rock piled in the
      lower funnel. Rock comes up in     a bucket and is carted
      off. Timber is passed down. A      crowd of miners, black
      and white, watch and help where    they can.

                                 MINER #1
                  He's dead.   No doubt about it.

                                MINER #2
                  You give me a fair odds on ten
                                 MINER #1
                  Four to one.

                                MINER #2
                  Make it a sixer and you got me.

                                 MINER #1
                  You're on.

                                 MINER #2
                  Anyone else?   Six to one he's

                                                    CUT TO:
206   INT. HOLE                                                     206

      Rasputin works like a man possessed, piling rocks in the
      bucket to be passed up, shoring timbers as they are
      passed down.

                                                    CUT TO:
207   INT. BARS                                                     207

      Elijah is pointing up the stope to two Mine Managers as
      dozens more mill around, hauling the rock out, trying to

      TWO MINERS observe Elijah and the managers.

                                MINER #3
                  He says someone was up there.
                  Blasted it out on PK from the
                  other side?

                                MINER #4
                  Who's the driller?

                                 MINER #3


                              MINER #4
                No one drills Botha's stope but
                Botha, and he only works days.

      The miners look at each other knowingly and return to

                                                  CUT TO:

208   INT. SHAFT                                              208

      Rasputin, bloodied, his hands ripped apart by the stones,
      his chest torn by the rough timbers, labors on,

                                                  CUT TO:

209   PK                                                            209

      buried.   He hears movement above, faint but perceptible.

                Help.   Help.

                                                  CUT TO:

210   INT. SHAFT                                              210

      Rasputin sends another bucket up. He stands, his chest
      heaving. He hears something. He drops his ear to the
      floor. He hears the FAINTEST SOUND.
                               PK (V.O.)

      He starts tearing away at the rock, doubling his effort.
                PK! PK!

                                                  CUT TO:
211   PK                                                            211

      almost unconscious, hearing Rasputin's voice.   He breaks
      into the smallest of smiles and passes out.
                                                  FADE TO:

212   INT. HOSPITAL BED                                       212


Pk sits in the hospital bed, battered but otherwise in
good shape. Rasputin sits in a wheelchair by his bed-
side, his hands and chest bandaged, pondering the chess-
board between them.
Jocko enters.

          Well, look at ya now, boyo.
          Up and at 'em in no time.
          And rich as a fuckin' lord.

He tosses a fat wad of cash on PK's bed.

          What's this?

          Your ticket to ride. Two
          hundred quid at fourteen to

          But I didn't make it.   I'm a
          month short.

          Not according to managment. They
          cashed you out at twelve months
          for eleven worked. Last thirty
          days was bonus. And until someone
          shows me a calendar reads different,
          twelve months and a year are one
          and the same kind of thing. And
          the bet was for a year. So get
          yourself mended and get your ass
          out of here.

          There's someone I have to see first.
Jocko grows uncomfortable.

          What do you want to go pressin'
          it for? You're rich, lad.
          You're whole. Why do you want
          to go pressin' it?

          Because I want to know.

          Know what?   That the man has

                blasted so much gelignite he's
                permanently deranged in the attic?
                That even the other drillers
                leave the bar when the man drinks,
                so crazed does he get. All right.
                He tried to kill you. But he
                didn't. You're alive is all that
                matters. Do us all a favor, boyo.
                Get out of here. Get on a train
                and don't come back. We've no
                liking to be burying someone we're
                all so fond of.

                No worries. The luckier you are,
                the longer you last. The longer
                you last, the luckier you are.

      Rasputin moves a chesspiece and bellows.

                Checkmate!   Checkmate!

      He is ecstatic, bubbling with his joy.    Laughter
      springs from him.

      Jocko and PK trade a look.

                There's an end to everything,
                boyo. Even luck.

      Jocko exits.
                                                   CUT TO:

213   EXT. HOSPITAL - DAY                                      213

      PK walks to the seamy metal gate dressed, healed.
      Rasputin, his hands still bandaged, walks alongside of
      him. Rasputin is concerned.
                Well I guess this is goodbye, my
                friend. I'll never forget you.

      Rasputin speaks urgently in Russian.

                PK. Botha.   Nyet, nyet.   Nyet,
      PK does not respond.


                Take care, my friend.

      He grasps Rasputin's bandaged hand to shake it.
      Rasputin takes him around in a huge bear hug, smothering
      him. Pk survives, a bit rumpled. He smiles at Rasputin
      and exits. As he walks away,

                PK.   Botha.   Nyet. Nyet.    PK.

      PK turns the corner and is gone.

                                                     CUT TO:
214   EXT. MINING TOWN                                               214

      PK walks through the huts of the drillers, massive to
      a man. Most of them are coming off shift. Some of
      them rub their temples, trying to soothe the pain of
      the powder.

      PK comes to one hut.     He knocks.   No answer.   He knocks
      A DRILLER comes by.

                Who you lookin' for?
                Botha. The driller from stope
                number five.

                He's at the bar.


                I wouldn't disturb him. There's
                a reason he's there and we're

      The Driller enters his hut.     PK absorbs the warning.

                                                     CUT TO:

215   EXT. MINER'S BAR                                               215

      The three BARTENDERS stand outside along with a dozen
      other customers.

                               BARTENDER #1
                PK.   You're not going to go in,


                 Is Botha the driller in there?

                               BARTENDER #2
                 Ja. Always we give him one hour
                 alone before we open. You don't
                 know this because you work at
                 night, but it is the rule.
                 Ja.   In one hour it is pffft.
      He motions a man falling on his face.

      PK regards them for a moment and then enters the bar.

                                                    CUT TO:

216   INT. BAR                                                  216

      In the murky light one hulking figure sits at the bar,
      drinking shot after shot of whiskey.

      PK enters and walks across the room to the massive

                 Are you Botha?

      Botha does not turn around.


                 I'm PK.   I worked your grizzly.

                 Why'd you try to kill me?

      Botha turns slowly to reveal his face, swollen with
      anger and drink. He tears the short sleeve off his
      left arm, revealing a crudely tattooed swastika.

                 Because I missed the first time,

                 Jaapie Botha.


Botha rises drunkenly.     PK backs up.

          You remember, rooinek.
          Botha.     It was thirteen years ago.

          Because    of you they expelled me.
          Because    of you my father beat me.
          Threw me    out from the farm.
          Because    of you.

He throws back another drink and rushes PK with a roar.

PK sidesteps and heads for the door.
Botha gets there first and bolts it.

          Botha. We've made a lot of money
          working together. Let the past be
          the past.

          You ruined the country, all you
          rooineks. You come and ruin the

He rushes PK again.     Again PK sidesteps.

          No, Jaapie Botha. It's hate
          ruining the country.

He swings at PK.     PK ducks.
          Boer hate.

          Our country.

At that moment the powder headache strikes. Botha
bellows, grabbing his head staggering backward.

PK runs for the door. As he reaches it a table slams
against it, thrown halfway across the room by a
powder-mad Botha.

      PK jumps out of the way at the last minute.

      Men's faces begin to appear at the iron-meshed windows.
      People start to bang at the door.

      PK, realizing there is no talking to Botha now, does
      his best to stay out of the charging giant's way.

      Botha charges him. PK sidesteps and hits him with a
      left hook. The punch has no effect. Botha swings out
      wildly. PK easily dances away. Botha picks up
      another table and heaves it at PK. PK jumps to avoid
      it, but trips on an overturned stool. He goes down.
      The miners outside, crowding three deep, yell and shout.
      People start to make bets.

      Botha charges PK as PK scrambles up. Botha swings. The
      blow glances off PK's shoulder and sends him flying,
      spinning over a table. Botha leaps at PK, driving him
      into the wall. PK grimaces, sagging. Botha picks him
      up and starts to squeeze him to death in his massive
      arms. PK, his hands free, starts to pound on Botha's
      ears with his palms. Botha screams as the powder head-
      ache accelerates through the top of his skull. He
      drops PK. PK rolls away and swings a stool at Botha's
      midsection. Botha is driven back. PK goes to swing
      the stool again. Botha catches it as if it were made
      of balsa. He rips it out of PK's hand and flings it
      back at him, charging behind it.

      PK goes topping end over end. Botha gets a hand on him
      and lifts him from behind. He flings PK over the bar.
      PK hits the floor, stunned. Botha pulls at the bar
      trying to get at PK.

      He rocks the bar and rocks the bar as PK is trying to
      regain his bearings. Finally, with one tremendous rip,
      the bar comes away from its bolting. Botha pulls it

      PK rises just as Botha moves in. PK hits him three
      solid shots to the stomach but Botha hardly feels
      them. He grabs PK and starts to squeeze him again.
      Face to face, Botha's crazed eyes watch the life
      fade from PK's.

217   CLOSEUP                                                       217

      PK's eyes going blank.
                                                    SMASH CUT TO:

218   PK                                                            218


      diving off a waterfall into the turbulent water below.

                                                   SMASH CUT TO:

219   BOTHA                                                        219

      squeezing harder, breaking PK's concentration.

                                                   SMASH CUT TO:
220   PK                                                           220

      swimming, exhausted, climbs on a rock, one more in
      front of him. He dives into the water again.

                                                   SMASH CUT TO:

221   BACK TO SCENE                                                221

      The crowd yells and screams as Botha squeezes harder.
      Odds are called out. Blood starts to trickle from
      PK's mouth.
                               VOICE #1 (V.O.)
                He's dead.   He's dead.

                                                   SMASH CUT TO:
222   PK                                                           222

      as he swims to the last stone. He reaches it and
      struggles on top. He stands on the stone, trimphant.
                                                   SMASH CUT TO:

223   BOTHA                                                        223

      squeezing again, bellowing.

      PK opens his eyes, draws his   head back, and butts
      Botha in the face. Botha's    nose shatters. The grip
      slackens a bit. PK hits him    in the face again. Botha
      drops PK to the floor as he   screams at the unbelievable
      pain. Blood pours from his    nose.

224   PK                                                           224

      catches his breath and is on Botha. He throws three
      hard punches to his face. Enraged, Botha howls and
      swings at PK. PK goes underneath his arm and hooks
      three times into the ribs. Botha grunts, hurt. He
      swings again with the other hand.

                                                  SMASH CUT TO:

225   INT. PRISON BOXING ROOM - CLOSEUP - GEEL PIET                225

                              GEEL PIET
                First with the head, then with the
                heart. Little defeat big when
                little is smart.

                                                  SMASH CUT TO:
226   PK                                                           226

      pounds into Botha's ribs under another wild swinging
      punch by the giant. Botha shouts and keeps advancing,
      swinging. PK backs up, peppering him, leading him
      forward. Left-right. He punishes Botha for each punch
      the big man throws, but always backing up. Botha, half
      blind, spitting blood follows.

      The crowd screams for him to move side to side.   The
      betting changes fast and furious.

      PK glances over his  shoulder to the cement wall behind
      him. He takes two   more steps and then fires two jabs
      at Botha's face and  then stands stock still. Wild with
      anger, Botha throws  a huge right hand to PK's head.

                                                  SMASH CUT TO:

227   CLUB                                                         227

      coming down on Maria's head.
                                                  SMASH CUT TO:

228   PK                                                           228

      At the last moment PK sidesteps. Botha's hand    smashes
      into the cement wall. His hand shatters into    a hundred
      pieces. The pain is so immense he is rendered    helpless.
      PK doesn't waste a second. He starts banging    away at
      Botha with hard, fast combinations.

                Want to see the wages of hate?
      Botha feels the punches.   He steps back, faltering.
      PK pursues him.

                Here.   Here is what hate gets you.

      PK hammers away, punching with each word, harder and


                 For my chicken. For Geel Piet.
                 For Doc. For Mandoma. For Maria.

      Botha is out on his feet.

                 For Africa.

      PK unleashes a final pjnch -- the hardest one he ever
      threw. It catches Botha square in the jaw. Botha
      goes over onto his back like a tree falling.
      The crowd outside screams and yells with delight.     Money
      changes hands.

      PK collects himself and steps over Botha.   He unbolts
      the door and steps outside.

                                                  CUT TO:

229   EXT. BAR                                                      229
      The crowd goes silent as PK emerges. The crowd parts.
      PK, looking neither right nor left, begins to walk away.

                               PK (V.O.)
                 I knew as I walked out of the
                 mines, out of Africa, that I
                 wasn't fleeing. That one day
                 I would return. Inkosi
                 Inkosikasi was right. I was a
                 man for all Africa. Bound to
                 her by my spirit. Bound by my
                 dreams. And Africa had taught
                 me the lesson I would take out
                 into the world and one day bring
                 back. Great changes can come from
                 the power of many. But only when
                 the many join together and create
                 what is invincible. The Power of

      ZOOM OUT as PK continues walking out of the camp and
      toward tomorrow.
                                                  FADE OUT.

                                THE END

Power of One, The

Writers :   Robert Mark Kamen
Genres :   Drama

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