THE ENGLISH PATIENT
by
Anthony Minghella
Based on the novel
by Michael Ondaatje
Revised Draft (*)
August 1995
Copyright (c) 1995 The Saul Zaentz Company
EXT. LATE 1942. THE SAHARA DESERT. DAY.
SILENCE. THE DESERT seen from the air. An ocean of dunes
for mile after mile. The late sun turns the sand every color
from crimson to black.
An old AEROPLANE is flying over the Sahara. Its shadow swims
over the contours of sand.
A woman's voice begins to sing unaccompanied on the track.
Szerelem, szerelem, she cries, in a haunting lament for her
loved one.
INSIDE the aeroplane are two figures. One, A WOMAN, seems
to be asleep. Her pale head rests against the side of the
cockpit. THE PILOT, a man, wears goggles and a leather
helmet. He is singing, too, but we can't hear him or the
plane or anything save the singer's plaintive voice.
The plane shudders over a ridge. Beneath it A SUDDEN CLUSTER
OF MEN AND MACHINES, camouflage nets draped over the sprawl
of gasoline tanks and armored vehicles. An OFFICER, GERMAN,
focuses his field glasses. The glasses pick out the MARKINGS
on the plane. They are English. An ANTI-AIRCRAFT GUN
swivels furiously.
Shocking bursts of GUNFIRE. Explosions rock the plane, which
lurches violently. THE WOMAN SLUMPS FORWARD, slamming her
head against the instruments. The pilot grabs her, pulls her
back, but she's not conscious. The fuel tank above their
heads is punctured. It sprays them both, then EXPLODES.
THE MAN FALLS OUT OF THE SKY, clinging to his dead lover.
The are both ON FIRE. She is wrapped in a parachute silk and
it burns fiercely. He looks up to see the flames licking at
his own parachute as it carries them slowly to earth. Even
his helmet is on fire, but the man makes no sound as the
flames erase all that matters - his name, his past, his face,
his lover…
EXT. THE DESERT. 1942. DAY.
THE PILOT HAS BEEN RESCUED BY BEDOUIN TRIBESMEN. Behind them
the wreckage of the plane, still smoking, the Arabs picking
over it. A SILVER THIMBLE glints in the sun, is retrieved.
Another man comes across A LARGE LEATHER-BOUND BOOK and takes
it over to the Pilot. The Pilot is charred. His helmet has
melted into his head. He's oblivious to this, cares only
about the woman who crashed with him. He twists frantically
to find her. Two men pick him up and carry him across to a
litter where they carefully wrap him in blankets.
EXT. THE DESERT. DUSK.
The Pilot is being carried across the desert. A mask covers
his face.
His view of the world is through the slats of reed. He
glimpses camels, fierce low sun, the men who carry him.
EXT. AN OASIS. DUSK.
The Pilot sees a man squat down beside him, takes a date from
a sack and begin to chew it. Carefully, the Bedouin eases
the mask from the Pilot's face, leaving bandages of cloth and
oil, but revealing a mouth. He stops chewing and passes the
pulped date into the Pilot's mouth. Mouth to mouth.
EXT. DESERT. DAWN.
THE CARAVANSERAI CROSSES THE DESERT, silhouetted against the
dunes.
EXT. AN OASIS. NIGHT.
The SOUND OF GLASS, of tiny chimes. A music of glass.
AN ARAB HEAD APPEARS ON A MOVING TABLE IN THE DESERT. It
floats in darkness, shimmering from the light of a fire. The
image develops to reveal a man carrying a giant wooden yoke
from which hang DOZENS OF SMALL GLASS BOTTLES, on different
lengths of string and wire. He could be an angel.
The man approaches the litter which carries the Pilot. He's
still in the protective reed mask, wrapped in blankets. The
MERCHANT DOCTOR stands over the burned body and sinks sticks
either side of him deep into the sand, then moves away, free
of the yoke, which balances in the support of the two
crutches. He puts some liquid in the Pilot's tongue, whose
eyes almost instantly begin to roll. Then he slowly sets
about peeling away the layers of oiled cloth which protect
the Pilot's flesh.
The Merchant Doctor crouches in front of the curtain of
bottles and MAKES A SKIN CUP with the soles of his feet, then
leans back to pluck, hardly looking, certain bottles, which
he uncorks and mixes in the bowl he'd made with his feet.
This mixture he uses to anoint the burned skin. Next he
finds green-black PASTE - ground Peacock Bone - and BEGINS TO
RUB IT on to the Pilot's rib cage. All the while he us
humming and chanting. The bottles continue to jingle.
EXT. ITALIAN HILL ROAD. EARLY 1945. DAY.
The sand gives way to trees, the jingling bottles to distant
church bells, as A CONVOY OF TWENTY TRUCKS - Red Cross
vehicles and some supply vehicles - snakes along a bumpy hill
road. The war in Italy is largely over and the Allies are
moving up the country, the wounded and supply lines slowly
following.
INT. RED CROSS TRUCK. DAY.
A young CANADIAN NURSE, HANA, sits in a truck full of
patients. Hana pays special care to the PATIENT lying in the
stretcher alongside her. This is the PILOT - now known as
THE ENGLISH PATIENT. A web of scars covers the Patient's
face and body. They have the quality of a livid tattoo,
magenta and green-black. The hair has largely gone and the
effect is curious, lassoing his features, the strong nose,
the eyes liquid. It's a warrior's face. But he has no
physical strength. He coughs violently as the trucks
shudders along the road.
EXT. ITALIAN HILL ROAD. DAY.
A JEEP pulls out of the line and approaches the Red Cross
truck containing Hana and the Patient. The horn blows and
Hana looks out to see it contains her best friend, JAN. TWO
YOUNG SOLDIERS sit up front, one driving, both grinning. Jan
signals for Hana's attention.
JAN
There's meant to be lace in the
next village - the boys are taking
me.
HANA
I'm not sewing anything else.
JAN
(mischievously)
You don't have any money, do you?
Just in case there's silk.
HANA
No!
JAN
Hana, I know you do!
Hana leans under the tarpaulin, holding some DOLLARS. The
two hands - hers and Jan's - reach for each other as the
vehicles bump along side by side. They laugh at the effort.
Jan's GOLD BRACELET catches the sun and glints.
HANA
I'm not sewing anything else for
you!
JAN
(getting the money)
I love you.
The Jeep accelerates away. Hana sighs to the patient.
Suddenly AN EXPLOSION shatters the calm as the jeep runs over
a MINE. The jeep is THROWN into the air. The convoy halts
and there's chaos as soldiers run back pulling people out of
the vehicles. Hana runs the other way, towards the accident,
until she is prevented from passing by a soldier.
EXT. ITALIAN HILL ROAD. LATER.
-- and there's still chaos as two SAPPERS arrive on
motorcycles. One of them, a SIKH, wears a turban.
The motorcycles arrive at the front of the convoy. A nurse,
MARY, is helping a doctor, OLIVER, attend to the injured
driver. The other two bodies are covered with blankets.
There's blood everywhere. The Sikh and his colleague pull
out the paraphernalia of their bomb disposal equipment.
EXT. ITALIAN HILL ROAD. DAY.
KIP, the Sikh Lieutenant, and HARDY, his sergeant, explore
the road ahead of the becalmed convoy, using saucer-like
METAL DETECTORS and HEADSETS. Kip is young, lithe,
contained, utterly focused as they inch along the debris
strewn road. He stiffens as he registers metal. With a
bayonet he carefully scrapes at the mud-caked surface.
Something GLEAMS. Suddenly, A PAIR OF FEET walks across his
vision as HANA HURRIES PAST, walking carelessly up the road.
It's so surreal that neither man registers at first, and then
Kip is shouting.
KIP
Hey! Hey! Stop! Hey!
HARDY
Don't move! Stand ABSOLUTELY
STILL! Hana stops.
(Hardy gingerly follows
her footsteps.)
HARDY (CONT'D)
(as he approaches)
Good, that's good, just stay still
for me and then we're going to be
fine.
He arrives at Hana. Then grabs her. He'd like to slap her
face.
HARDY (CONT'D)
What are you doing?! What the
bloody hell do you think you're
doing?
By way of an answer she looks at the ground ahead of her
feet. Jan's BRACELET lies in the mud. Hardy bends down and
collects the mangled bracelet, presses it into Hana's hands.
EXT. VILLAGE. DUSK.
The CONVOY is threading through A RUINED VILLAGE, passing the
souvenirs of war. An overturned vehicle now used as a game
by some children, dejected refugees tramping along the side
of the road. From the end of one of the buildings are
hanging HALF A DOZEN CORPSES, strung upside down with crude
placards denouncing, in Italian, their collaboration with the
Nazis.
INT. RED CROSS TRUCK. CONTINUOUS.
Hana sees all this as she sits blankly inside the truck, the
Patient swaying alongside her. She puts out her hand to
steady him.
EXT. CONVOY SITE, ITALY. DUSK.
THE CONVOY is making a PITSTOP. The trucks are silhouetted
in a line. Hana helps lift the Patient's stretcher onto the
ground. She bends to him.
HANA
Do you need something?
The Patient nods. Hana gets up to prepare MORPHINE INJECTION
from a small kit. Mary arrives. Touches Hana gently,
conscious of her grief for Jan's death.
MARY
Are you okay? Oh God, Hana, you
were like sisters.
HANA
(sighs angrily)
We keep moving him - in and out of
the truck. Why? He's dying.
What's the point?
MARY
Well, we can't hardly leave him.
Do you mean leave him? We can't.
Hana has settled down beside the Patient's stretcher. She
draws herself up against the night. On the hill above, she
can see the outline of A SMALL MONASTERY in the moonlight.
She's crying, her face a frozen mask.
HANA
I must be a curse. Anybody who
loves me, anybody who gets close to
me - or I must be cursed. Which is
it?
The Patient laces her fingers into his crabbed hand.
EXT. THE MONASTERY. DAY.
Hana is investigating the MONASTERY OF ST. ANNA, wandering
through its overgrown gardens, past a pond. What sanctuary
it seems to offer.
INT. THE MONASTERY LIBRARY. DAY.
Hana explores via a gaping hole in a LIBRARY where the walls
have collapsed from shelling. The garden intrudes, ivy curls
around the shelves. Bloated books lie abandoned, and there's
a PIANO tiled up on one side. Hana presses the keys through
the filthy tarpaulin which covers it. Everywhere there are
signs of a brief German occupation.
INT. MONASTERY CLOISTERS. DAY.
Past the Library is a CLOISTERS, drenched with silver light.
INT. THE MONASTERY STAIRS. DAY.
Hana goes upstairs, negotiating a huge VOID in the stone
treads two thirds of the way up.
INT. THE PATIENT'S ROOM. DAY.
She comes across a small CHAPEL, with the remains of murals
and an altar pressed into service by the Germans as a table.
Hana finds an old bed, and a mattress.
EXT. THE MONASTERY GARDEN. DAY.
Hana comes out, passes a DRY WATER TROUGH. She hears a
rustling on the gravel and turns to see A TORTOISE ambling
towards the trough. On cue there's A GURGLING SOUND. THE
HANDLELESS PUMP IS SUDDENLY GUSHING, splashing water
everywhere. The Tortoise, clearly arriving for this, enjoys
a welcome shower. Hana goes to the trough, dips her hands
into the water. Looks around her, and makes a decision.
EXT. CONVOY SITE. ITALY. DAY.
The Convoy is in the final stages of loading up. Oliver
passes the vehicles, deep in dispute with a determined Hana,
who is carrying some sacks of rice.
HANA
The war's over - you told me
yourself. How can it be desertion?
OLIVER
It's not over everywhere. I didn't
mean literally.
HANA
When he dies I'll catch up.
Oliver hovers as Hana adds the rice to a small cache of
provisions, then lays another blanket over the Patient.
OLIVER
It's not safe here. The whole
country's crawling with Bandits and
Germans and God knows what. It's
madness. I can't allow it. You're
not, this is natural - it's shock.
For all of us. Hana -
HANA
I need morphine. A lot. And a
pistol.
OLIVER
(clutching at straws)
And what if he really is a spy?
HANA
(impatiently)
He can't even move.
OLIVER
If anything happened to you I'd
never forgive myself.
Hana nods. A tiny smile. Oliver shrugs helplessly.
OLIVER (CONT'D)
We're heading for Leghorn. Livorno
the Italians call it. We'll expect
you.
INT. THE MONASTERY. DAY.
TWO SOLDIERS are helping Mary and Hana carry the Patient into
the monastery. Hana indicates the stairs.
HANA
Up there.
They struggle up the stairs, one of the Soldiers gasping as
he narrowly avoids falling into the void in the stairs. The
cot almost tips up, at which the Patient SUDDENLY SPEAKS, his
voice cracked and rasping, but still clearly aristocratic.
THE PATIENT
There was a Prince, who was dying,
and he was carried up the tower at
Pisa so he could die with a view of
the Tuscan Hills. Am I that Prince?
Hana laughs.
HANA
Because you're leaning? No, you're
just on an angle. You're too
heavy!
Mary laughs. They reach the landing. Hana kicks open the
door to the CHAPEL.
HANA (CONT'D)
In here.
INT. THE PATIENT'S ROOM. DAY.
Hana lets Mary take the weight while she goes to the bed and
pulls away the drapes, sending up a cloud of dust. They
lower the Patient onto the bed. She turns to the SOLDIERS.
HANA (CONT'D)
Thank you.
She shuts the door on them, leaving Mary staring aghast at
the room, its faded frescoes, its mold, its chaos. Hana
smiles, opens a shutter to let a fierce envelope of light
into the room.
HANA (CONT'D)
Good.
She goes to Mary and hugs her.
INT. HANA'S ROOM. THE MONASTERY. DAY.
A smaller upstairs room completely bare. As Hana tugs off
her uniform, she looks out of the window to see the departing
Convoy. A cotton dress goes on over her head and she emerges
looking suddenly younger and rather fragile. THROUGH THE
DAMAGED FLOOR OF HER ROOM SHE HAS A VIEW OF THE PATIENT BELOW
HER. SHE LOOKS AT HIM. NOW SHE HAS SCISSORS AND STARTS TO
CUT OFF HER HAIR, NOT AGGRESSIVELY, BUT IN A GESTURE OF A NEW
BEGINNING.
INT. THE PATIENT'S ROOM. DAY.
HANA walks down to the Patient's Room and stands in the
doorway. The Patient turns his head to her. He's grinning.
He puts up a thumb. On the track a song begins: Some Other
Time.
EXT. BASECAMP AT POTTERY HILL. 1938. LATE DAY.
THE SONG CONTINUED IN THE DESERT where we find the singer -
PETER MADOX, a weather-beaten man who is working on the guts
of an BATTERED TIGER MOTH AEROPLANE. His face is blackened
with oil. A second European, ALMÁSY, stands beside him,
holding tools and a section of the camshaft. Madox yanks out
a perished rubber hose and holds it up for Almasy to inspect.
Behind them is an ENCAMPMENT - some camels foraging in the
meager scrub, half a dozen black tents of the BEDOUIN: guides
and servants to the Almásy/Madox Expedition. It's 1938 and
the whole continent is full of such expeditions, competing
with each other, pursuing lost treasures, sources of rivers,
hidden cities.
D'AGOSTINO, the team's Italian ARCHEOLOGIST, drives towards
the plane in one of the expedition's adapted FORD MOTORCARS.
He gets out carrying a large earthenware WATER JAR. He looks
very pleased with himself as he shows the jar to Almásy and
then passes it to Madox.
D'AGOSTINO
Thirsty?
MADOX
(sniffing inside)
What's this?
D'AGOSTINO
Don't drink it!
He reaches for the jug, then pours out a little sludge - it's
a brackish and stinks. Madox makes a face.
D'AGOSTINO (CONT'D)
I can't guarantee the vintage, my
friends. I just dug it out of the
hill. Madox and Almásy have seen
many such jugs.
MADOX
Excellent. That's terrific, D'Ag.
(to Almásy, of a tool)
Toss that up, would you.
D'AGOSTINO
(mischievously)
There are some others.
EXT. POTTERY HILL. DAY.
THE BASE OF A HILL SEEMS COMPOSED ENTIRELY OF POTTERY JARS.
D'Agostino emerges over the brow of a dune, leading Madox and
Almásy. The other members of the team are already there -
BERMANN, a German PHOTOGRAPHER and FOUAD, EGYPTOLOGIST from
Cairo.
MADOX
(to Almásy, astonished)
My God, look at this!
They bend to touch the jars, literally hundreds of them,
mostly broken, piled on top of each other. Bermann
approaches them, carrying his tripod.
BERMANN
Incredible, Hmm? Quite incredible.
D'AGOSTINO
I've never seen anything like it.
There would have been enough water
here to serve an army.
ALMÁSY
(gloomily)
Which means we're in the wrong
place.
Almásy speaks with a slight but unmistakable European accent.
D'AGOSTINO
Why?
ALMÁSY
Would you stockpile water near to
an Oasis? There can't be a natural
spring within fifty miles of here.
FOUAD
Or they didn't know of one.
BERMANN
So, it may not be Zerzura, still
incredible.
D'AGOSTINO
(nodding, delighted)
A pottery hill!
ALMÁSY
A wild goose chase.
MADOX
(firmly)
No.
Almásy gives him a look. But Madox will have none of it.
MADOX (CONT'D)
No. Now we look in the other
places. We're eliminating.
The unmistakable buzz of AN AEROPLANE distracts them.
MADOX (CONT'D)
Good, and here comes
reinforcements.
EXT. BASE CAMP AT POTTERY HILL. DAY.
LATER and a smart new aeroplane, a STEERMAN, makes a smooth
landing on the flat desert. The expedition team drives over
to meet the arrivals. Almásy is not with them. He's
walking, apparently not so enthusiastic.
A young, kissed and newly-married couple emerge from the
plane. They are GEOFFREY AND KATHARINE CLIFTON.
And it's immediately clear that Katharine is the woman in the
plane-crash at the beginning of the film.
Madox makes all the introductions. Hands are shaken, hellos
all round, as the couple disembark in their leather flying
gear. Geoffrey removes his helmet and, in what we will come
to know as an ubiquitous gesture, produces a bottle of
CHAMPAGNE and sets off the cork with a flourish.
CLIFTON
I hereby Christen us the
International Sand Club!
EXT. BASECAMP AT POTTERY HILL. LATE DAY.
The party is in the shade of the tents. Almásy joins the
group. Madox nods over to the Clifton plane.
MADOX
Marvelous plane. Did you look?
CLIFTON
(beaming at Almásy)
Isn't it? Wedding present from
Katharine's parents. I'm calling
it Rupert Bear. Hello. Geoffrey
Clifton.
MADOX
We can finally consign my old bird
to the scrapheap. Almásy smiles and
walks on towards the others.
D'AGOSTINO
Mrs. Clifton - Count Almasy.
KATHARINE
(smiling, offering her
hand)
Geoffrey gave me your monograph
when I was reading up on the
desert. Very impressive.
ALMÁSY
(stiff)
Thank you.
KATHARINE
I wanted to meet a man who could
write such a long paper with so few
adjectives.
ALMÁSY
A thing is still a thing no matter
what you place in front of it. Big
car, slow car, chauffeur-driven
car, still a car.
CLIFTON
(joining them and joining
in)
A broken car?
ALMÁSY
Still a car.
CLIFFTON
(hands them champagne)
Not much use, though.
KATHARINE
Love? Romantic love, platonic
love, filial love - ? Quite
different things, surely?
CLIFTON
(hugging Katharine)
Uxoriousness - that's my favorite
kind of love. Excessive love of
one's wife.
ALMÁSY
(a dry smile)
There you have me.
INT. THE PATIENT'S ROOM. THE MONASTERY. MORNING.
The morning floods into the room. The Patient lies, lost in
the desert. Then a sudden CLATTERING NOISE disturbs him.
INT. STAIRS, THE MONASTERY. DAY.
Hana is dropping armfuls of books into the cavities of the
damaged stairs, and with others, she is improvising new
steps. The heavy volumes are perfect for treading on.
INT. LIBRARY. DAY.
Hana comes in, gathers up another armful of books and carries
them out to continue her stair repairs.
INT. THE PATIENT'S ROOM. DAY.
Hana enters.
THE PATIENT
What was all the banging? Were you
fighting rats or the entire German
army?
HANA
I was repairing the stairs. I
found a library and the books were
very useful.
Hana shrugs. She's attending to him, pulling back the
sheets, plumping up the pillows. He's short of breath.
THE PATIENT
Before you find too many uses for
these books would you read some to
me?
HANA
I think they're all in Italian, but
I'll look, yes. What about your
own book?
THE PATIENT
(reluctant)
My book? The Herodotus? Yes, we
can read him.
Hana picks up the book and hands it to him. Then she starts
rummaging in her pockets.
HANA
Oh - I've found plums. We have
plums in the orchard. We have an
orchard! She has peeled a plum and
now slips it into his mouth.
THE PATIENT
Thank you.
His mouth works with the pleasure of the taste, a little
juice escaping from the mouth. Hana mops it up.
THE PATIENT (CONT'D)
The plumness of this plum.
A noise, GURGLING sound, disturbs them.
THE PATIENT (CONT'D)
What's that?
INT/EXT. THE MONASTERY. DAY.
Hana comes through the Cloisters into the garden as the
gurgling increases. She's in time to catch the TORTOISE
arriving once again in the WATER TROUGH just as it starts to
gush with water. She shouts up to The Patient's open window.
HANA
Water!
(bends to the Tortois)
You hear it, too, don't you!
INT. THE PATIENT'S ROOM. DAY.
Close on the HERODOTUS. The Patient opens its cover, held
together by leather ties. Loose PAPERS, PHOTOGRAPHS, HAND
DRAWN MAPS AND SKETCHES are all collected between the pages.
He claws at some water-colors which appear to be based on
CAVE PAINTINGS - figures, dark-skinned warriors of the stone
age, some with bows in their hands, others with plumes in
their hair - arranged in abstract patterns uncannily like
those of Matisse. Some appear to be swimming, another is
diving. Then the Patient loses control of the papers and the
whole parcel SPILLS to the floor with a crack.
INT. BASECAMP AT POTTERY HILL. DUSK.
A SHOT RINGS OUT, disturbing the evening meal. Almásy and
others go outside. Silhouetted on a ridge, a group of men
sit astride camels. One of them holds his rifle aloft,
clearly pointing towards the sky - means friend. Fouad peers
at the horizon.
FOUAD
European, I think, with guides.
CLIFTON
(can only see shapes)
How do you know?
MADOX
(frowns)
Yes, and I think I know who this
is.
EXT. BASECAMP AT POTTERY HILL. DUSK.
ALMÁSY AND MADOX WALK OUT TO INTERCEPT THE ARRIVALS as the
first Arab dismounts, the procession of camels splaying out
as if in collapse. Almásy speaks in Arabic, exchanging the
ritual greetings.
DURING THIS, FENELON-BARNES, sole European in this
expedition, has finally persuaded his camel to sit, and
dismounts irritably, slapping the animal in disgust.
FENELON-BARNES
Ugly brute. Shits and roars and
complains all day.
(bypassing Almásy and
approaching Madox)
Of course, you have your aeroplane.
Two now! Do you still call
yourselves explorers? I assume
not.
MADOX
(stiffly)
Fenelon-Barnes.
ALMÁSY
Yes, I think a sailor can call
himself an explorer, can't he? Or
should Columbus have swum to
America?
INT. BASECAMP AT POTTERY HILL. DUSK.
The arrivals come inside. Madox handles the introductions.
MADOX
I think you know all of us, except
for Geoffrey and Katharine Clifton,
who've recently come out from
England.
CLIFTON
Apprentices.
MADOX
This is Clive Fenelon-Barnes.
FENELON-BARNES
(to Katharine)
I know your mother, of course.
KATHARINE
Hello.
FENELON-BARNES
I'm also searching for the lost
Oasis, but by more authentic means.
MADOX
(of Almásy)
Anyway, my friend here has a new
theory - that Zerzura doesn't
exist. So we may all be chasing
windmills. Have some food.
FENELON-BARNES
Well, it's certainly not between
here and Dakhla. Nine days of
nothing but sand and sandstorms.
An egg. I found an ostrich egg and
some fossils.
KATHARINE
Isn't Zerzura supposed to be
protected by spirits who take on
the shape of sandstorms?
ALMÁSY
What kind of fossils?
FENELON-BARNES
I'll invite you to my paper at the
Royal Geographical Society. Are you
still a member? He takes a long
drink from a bowl of frothing camel
milk.
ALMÁSY
I think you know I am.
FENELON-BARNES
(ignoring Almásy)
Quite impossible, Madox. You must
know that. If you attempt to cross
the Sand Sea due east of Kufra by
car you'll leave your bones in the
sand for me to collect.
ALMÁSY
(leaving the tent)
If you come across my bones - I
hope you'll do me the honor of
leaving them in peace.
(to Katharine)
Excuse me.
FENELON-BARNES
You have my word as a gentleman.
(watching him leave)
I've discovered a unique type of
sand-dune. I've applied to the
King for permission to call it The
Fenelon-Barnes Formation.
EXT. BASECAMP AT POTTERY HILL. NIGHT.
LATER, supper over, the company is entertaining itself.
Almásy, standing outside his tent, watches the merriment from
a distance.
D'Ag is nearing the end of a passionate rendition of
Puccini's E Lucevan Le Stelle. He sits down to much applause
from the others and SPINS AN EMPTY CHAMPAGNE BOTTLE on the
sand. It comes to rest pointing at Clifton who gets up,
grinning, and plunges into Yes! We Have No Bananas with great
gusto. His version involves CHANGING LANGUAGE during each
line of the chorus - prompted by Oui! or Ja! or Si! from
the others. Song finished, much bowing and guying, he spins
the bottle and it arrives equidistant between Fenelon-Barnes
and Katharine - until with a little NUDGE from the husband it
settles on his wife. Katharine gets up, awkward.
KATHARINE
I can't sing.
(the audience groans)
but I can tell a story.
(to Almásy, who has
arrived)
I might need a prompt. Do you have
your Herodotus? I've noticed you
carry it…
ALMÁSY
I'm sorry - what have you noticed?
MADOX
Your book. Your Herodotus! Almásy
looks uncomfortable.
KATHARINE
(reacting quickly)
It doesn't matter. Really. I
think I can muddle through. Okay -
The Story of Candaules and Gyges.
King Candaules was passionately in
love with his wife -
(Geoffrey whistles
proudly)
One day he said to Gyges, the son
of somebody, anyway - his favorite
warrior -
ALMÁSY
(quietly prompting her)
Daskylus…
KATHARINE
(smiles)
Yes, thank you, Gyges, son of
Daskylus - Candaules said to him I
don't think you believe me when I
tell you how beautiful my wife is.
And although Gyges replied he did
find the Queen magnificent the King
insisted he would find some way to
prove beyond dispute that she was
fairest of all women. Do you all
know this story?
The men all encourage her to continue her story.
INT. THE PATIENT'S ROOM. NIGHT.
- and Hana's voice CONTINUES THE STORY as she reads to the
Patient who listens, eyes closed, still in the desert.
HANA
(reading from the
Herodotus)
I will hide you in the room where
we sleep, said Candaules. She
stumbles over the word.
THE PATIENT
Candaules
HANA
(not neurotic)
Candaules…you're laughing at me.
THE PATIENT
I'm not laughing at you. Go on,
please.
HANA
When my wife comes to lie down she
always lays her garments one by one
on a seat near the entrance of the
room, and from where you stand you
will be able to gaze on her at your
leisure…
EXT. BASECAMP AT POTTERY HILL. NIGHT.
KATHARINE
(her story continuing)
And that evening, it's exactly as
the King had told him, she goes to
the chair and removes her clothes,
one by one, until she stand naked
in full view of Gyges. And indeed
she was more lovely than he could
have imagined.
Almásy stares at her, framed by the velvet black sky.
Katharine turns to looks at him.
KATHARINE (CONT'D)
But then the Queen looked up and
saw Gyges concealed in the shadows.
And though she said nothing, she
shuddered. The next day she sent
for Gyges and challenged him. And
hearing his story, she said this -
CLIFTON
Off with his head!
KATHERINE
- she said Either you must submit
to death for gazing on that which
you should not, or else kill my
husband who shamed me and become
King in his place.
Clifton makes a face of outrage. For Katherine the story has
collapsed. She wants it to be finished.
KATHERINE (CONT'D)
So Gyges killed the King and
married the Queen and became ruler
of Lydia for twenty eight years.
The End.
(an uncomfortable moment)
Do I spin the bottle? Almásy
shrinks away from the fire,
disappears into black.
MADOX
(to Clifton)
And let that be a lesson to you!
INT. THE PATIENT'S ROOM. NIGHT.
Hana looks up from the Herodotus, sees the Patient's eyes
closed. Gently touches his face and whispers.
HANA
Are you asleep?
THE PATIENT
(lying)
Yes. Dropping off.
And Hana closes the book, gets up, and blows out the lamp.
INT. FENELON-BARNES TENT. POTTERY HILL. NIGHT.
PITCH BLACK and then A TORCH flickers on as Almásy enters
Fenelon-Barnes' tent. He pulls apart his luggage, quickly
and methodically. He finds what he is looking for inside a
trunk: A LARGE FOSSILIZED BRANCH; a collection of stone
leaves, wrapped in a piece of tarpaulin.
Then he's distracted by a noise from Fenelon-Barnes' bed.
Almásy stiffens, turns to investigate. There's A LUMP in the
cot. A dog? Almásy eases back the blanket to reveal a YOUNG
GIRL, no more than fourteen, bound hand and foot. He holds
the torch to her face.
EXT. BASECAMP AT POTTERY HILL. MORNING.
The next morning. Almásy and Madox prepare to take off. As
they talk Clifton's Rupert Bear taxis past them, a wave from
Clifton and Katharine. Madox is very disturbed by what
Almásy is telling him.
MADOX
What did you think you were doing
in his tent?
ALMÁSY
Looking for the fossils. Why
should we wait until we're in
London? This girl was probably
twelve years old.
MADOX
(getting into the plane)
You shouldn't go into another man's
tent. It's inexcusable.
ALMÁSY
Her hands and feet were tied.
MADOX
What did you do?
ALMÁSY
I looked at them. They're shrubs,
small trees. Exquisite. And
fossilized, rock hard. He walks
away to the nose of the plane.
MADOX
I was talking about the girl.
ALMÁSY
Cut the ropes. I left a note, on
his blanket.
(gleefully)
At the next Geographical Society I
shall await with great interest the
announcement of the Fenelon-Barnes
Slave Knot. The Girl wouldn't
leave, of course. Her father had
sold her for a camel. He turns over
the propeller, the engine cranks
up.
EXT. GILF KEBIR PLATEAU. MORNING.
Both planes are scouting the Gilf Kebir region. Geoffrey
flies up alongside Madox and wiggles his wings. Madox waves.
They're flying over a distinctive group of GRANITE MASSIFS,
Crater-shaped hills. The broken towers of the Gilf Kebir.
Almasy is distracted by them. He turns to Madox and points
down, indicating they should explore them.
Madox gestures to the Cliftons to PHOTOGRAPH the Massifs. A
THUMBS UP from Geoffrey.
INT. THE PATIENT'S ROOM. MORNING.
Hana gives the Patient his injection, now she begins to
change the sheet. The light streams in from the open window.
She looks up at the green hills rolling away from the
Monastery, the village in the distance.
HANA
I should try and move your bed. I
want you to be able to see the
view. It's good, it's a view from
a monastery.
THE PATIENT
I can already see.
HANA
(bending down to his
level)
How? How can you see anything?
THE PATIENT
Not the window - I can't bear the
light anyway - no, I can see all
the way to the desert. I've found
the lost fossils.
HANA
I'm turning you.
An awkward moment as she rolls him on to his back. He grunts
with the pain. She washes him very tenderly.
THE PATIENT
Zerzura, the White City of Acacias,
the Oasis of Little Birds. As me
about the scent of acacia - it's in
this room. I can smell it. The
taste of tea so black it falls into
your mouth. I can taste it. I'm
chewing the mint. Is there sand in
my eyes? Are you cleaning sand
from my ears?
HANA
No sand. That's your drugs
speaking.
THE PATIENT
I can see my wife in that view.
HANA
Are you remembering more?
THE PATIENT
Could I have a cigarette?
HANA
Are you crazy?
THE PATIENT
Why are you so determined to keep
me alive?
HANA
Because I'm a nurse.
EXT. THE MONASTERY GARDENS. NOON.
The TORTOISE heads towards the trough, to the gurgling
accompaniment. It reaches the shade only to be greeted by
the obstacle of some tennis shoes, a frock. It clambers over
as the water begins to belch out. Hana, naked, kneeling in
the trough, receives the shower with a great YELP of
shivering joy.
EXT. THE MONASTERY CLOISTERS. NIGHT.
It's dark, but something is going on here. Hana is caught by
the stray shafts of moonlight. She is SCRATCHING something
on the flagstones. Her skirt is bunched up around her
thighs. She throws something in the air. It's a SPILE, used
to tap into the maple tree for syrup. It lands with a crack.
Suddenly she is flying across the space, a hop, a skip, a
jump. Then turns at the other end, dips for the stone, then
back again, in this blindman's version of HOPSCOTCH.
INT. TRAIN. ITALY 1944. BEFORE DAWN.
AS HANA HOPS AND JUMPS IN THE SHADOWS SHE IS SUDDENLY ON A
TRAIN IN 1944. A HOSPITAL TRAIN ploughs through the night
carrying the wounded back to Naples.
Hana walks through a long carriage. HER HAIR IS LONG. She
could be ten years younger than the Hana at the Monastery.
And easy. She stops at the bunk of A NEW PATIENT. Hana
bends to the boy. He's had shrapnel in his legs and cheek.
She speaks softly to him.
HANA
How are you?
BOY
Okay.
HANA
Your leg will be fine. A lot of
shrapnel came out - I saved you the
pieces.
BOY
You're the prettiest girl I ever
saw.
HANNA
(she hears this every day)
I don't think so.
BOY
Would you kiss me?
HANA
No, I'll get you some tea. Wait
till you're in Naples. You'll find
a girl there.
BOY
(innocent)
Just kiss me. It would mean such a
lot to me.
HANA
(tender, believing him)
Would it? She kisses him, very
softly, on the lips.
BOY
Thank you.
He closes his eyes. Is almost instantly asleep. Hana
smiles, continues along the compartment. VOICES CALL OUT.
#1 INJURED MAN
Nurse - I can't sleep.
#2 INJURED MAN
Nurse? Would you kiss me?
#3 INJURED MAN
You're so pretty!
#4 INJURED MAN
Hinky-dinky parlez-vous!
HANA
(good-naturedly waving
away their joke)
Very funny. Go to sleep.
She gets into a corridor. Mary is coming the other way. She
carries a blood-soaked bundle. Hana questions her appalled
expression.
MARY
Don't ask.
INT. RAILWAY STATION. DAY.
The train is arriving. Hana hangs out of a window, scouring
the crowds to find her sweetheart, STUART McGANN, a young
Canadian Captain, who seeing her runs up to her window.
HANA
Where are we going? I don't want
to be kissing in a crowd. I have
six hours.
She jumps out of the moving door and into his arms.
STUART
(laughing at her ferocity)
Whoa - give me a chance!
HANA
Sorry. I took a Benzedrine.
The Station is full of desperate people trying to make do.
the couple hurry through, oblivious to anyone except each
other.
STUART
I've got a surprise. A boat! We
can go to Capri. It's got a cabin,
it's private.
HANA
I'd like to spend a night with you
in a bed.
STUART
We can do that when we're very,
very old.
INT. THE MONASTERY. HANA'S ROOM. NIGHT.
Hana lies alone in her bed covered by a curtain. There's a
sharp NOISE. She's very frightened. She has her pistol
under her pillow and pulls it out, listens, holding her
breath. Another BANG. She listens.
EXT. THE MONASTERY. HANA'S GARDEN. DAY.
Hana has been reviving a vegetable patch. She comes to
garden. CROWS are feasting. She's furious, shouts, runs at
them. Nature, wildness, insisting on invading her peace.
EXT. THE MONASTERY. GRAVEYARD. MORNING.
Hana appears from the Cemetery, dragging A METAL CRUCIFIX.
It's bigger than she is, and she drags it, as if approaching
Calvary. A MAN WATCHER HER FROM A BICYCLE. He's approaching
fifty, grizzled and attractive, and could be Italian. His
hands are bandaged. Hana aims the cross at the soil, but is
not quite bit or strong enough. The man, CARAVAGGIO, chooses
this moment to introduce himself. He drops the bicycle on
the ground with a clatter.
CARAVAGGIO
(very cheerful)
Buon' Giorno! Hana turns, startled
and suspicious.
CARAVAGGIO (CONT'D)
Are you Hana?
HANA
What do you want?
CARAVAGGIO
I met your friend Mary. She said I
should stop and see if you were
okay. Apparently we're neighbors -
my house is two blocks from yours
in Montreal. Cabot, north of
Laurier. Bonjour.
HANA
(unraveling this
information)
Bonjour.
He goes to her and - putting a bandaged hand behind her ear -
PRODUCES AN EGG. He beams, as does Hana.
CARAVAGGIO
I'd like to take credit, but it's
from Mary. My name's David
Caravaggio, but nobody ever called
me David. Caravaggio they find to
absurd to miss out on.
During this he attempts the same thing with his other hand to
Hana's other ear. THE EGG DROPS TO THE GROUND. Cursing, he
gets on his knees and starts to scoop it up, preserving it.
INT. THE MONASTERY. KITCHEN. DAY.
Hana has taken his eggs and put them into a bowl. She beats
them with a knife picking out the bits of shell. Caravaggio
watches, takes in how little food there is otherwise. The
table seems useful more as a sewing area than for cooking -
it's STREWN WITH ALTAR CLOTHS being sewn into drapes. On a
tray on the table are TWO PHIALS OF MORPHINE from the
Patient's room. As Hana turns to the stove, he's moved and
covered them with his bandaged hands, a second later and he's
juggled them into his pockets with the slightest clink. Hana
looks at him. He shrugs, nods at the eggs.
CARAVAGGIO
They're fresh. I haven't eaten an
egg in…have you noticed there are
chickens? You get chickens in Italy
but no eggs. In Africa there were
always eggs, but never chickens.
Who separates them?
HANA
You were in Africa?
CARAVAGGIO
Yeah, for a while.
HANA
So was my Patient.
CARAVAGGIO
I'd like to stay. That's the long
and short of it. I mean, you know
blah-blah if it's convenient, if
there's room blah-blah-blah. I
have to do some work here -I speak
the language. There are Partisans
to be -
(trying to paraphrase)
-we embrace them and see if we can
relieve them of their weapons, you
know - while we hug. I was a
thief, so they think I'd be good at
that.
HANA
So you can shoot a pistol?
CARAVAGGIO
(showing his hands)
No.
HANA
If you said yes I would have had a
reason. You should let me redress
those bandages. Before you go.
CARAVAGGIO
I'm okay. Look, it's a big house.
We needn't disturb each other. I
can shoot a pistol! I'll sleep in
the stables. I don't care where I
sleep. I don't sleep.
HANA
Because we're fine here. I don't
know what Mary told you about me,
but I don't need company, I don't
need to be looked at.
CARAVAGGIO
Fine. I'm not looking.
INT. THE PATIENT'S ROOM. DAY.
Hana carries in a tray. There's OMELETTE on the plate.
HANA
There's a man downstairs. He
brought us eggs.
(shows him the omelette)
He might stay.
THE PATIENT
Why? Can he lay eggs?
HANA
He's Canadian.
THE PATIENT
(brittle)
Why are people always so happy when
they collide with someone from the
same place? What happened in
Montreal when you passed a man in
the street - did you invite him to
live with you?
HANA
He needn't disturb you.
THE PATIENT
Me? He can't. I'm already
disturbed.
HANA
He won't disturb us then. I think
he's after morphine.
(she's cut the omelette
into tiny pieces)
There's a war. Where you come from
becomes important. And besides -
we're vulnerable here.
I keep hearing noises in the night.
Voices.
The Patient says nothing. She puts a spoonful of the
omelette into his mouth. He grunts.
INT. THE MONASTERY. STAIRS. DAY.
Caravaggio is in the shadows on the stairs. HE LISTENS.
EXT. CAIRO MARKET. 1938. DAY.
A STREET MARKET in full sway, a locals-only affair, blazing
with noise and bustle and barter. Emerging from a thicket of
women and begging children, KATHARINE CLIFTON carries her
purchase of an exotic-looking RUG. From nowhere she is
joined by Almásy.
ALMÁSY
How much did you pay?
KATHARINE
(delighted)
Hello! Good morning.
ALMÁSY
They don't see foreign women in
this market. How much did you pay?
KATHARINE
Seven pounds, eight, I suppose.
Why?
ALMÁSY
Which stall?
KATHARINE
Excuse me?
ALMÁSY
You've been cheated, don't worry,
we'll take it back.
KATHARINE
(bristling)
I don't want to go back.
ALMÁSY
This is not worth eight pounds,
Mrs. Clifton.
KATHARINE
I don't care to bargain.
ALMÁSY
That insults them.
KATHARINE
(turning to face him)
I don't believe that. I think you
are insulted by me, somehow.
You're a foreigner too, aren't you,
here, in this market?
ALMÁSY
(of the carpet)
I should be very happy to obtain
the correct price for this. I
apologize if I appear abrupt. I am
rusty at social graces.
(tart)
How do you find Cairo? Did you
visit the Pyramids?
KATHARINE
Excuse me.
He stands as she continues, pushing past him, shrugging off
the children, boiling.
INT. SHEPHEARD'S HOTEL. CAIRO. EVENING.
THE LONG BAR. The Exploration Team are drinking at a table.
They are not entirely off-duty - Almásy and Madox as ever
ponder the maps. Geoffrey Clifton appears, arms waving.
CLIFTON
Gentlemen, good evening! He sits
down. Madox hails the waiter.
D'AGOSTINO
How is your charming wife?
CLIFTON
Uh, marvelous. She's in love with
the hotel plumbing. She's either
in the swimming pool - she swims
for hours, she's a fish, quite
incredible - or she's in the bath.
Actually, she's just outside.
(responding to their
bewildered expressions)
Chaps Only in the Long Bar.
MADOX
(standing, embarrassed)
Of course. Well, we should all go
out onto the terrace.
CLIFTON
Oh no, really. She has her book.
MADOX
I won't hear of it. None of us
will.
EXT. SHEPHEARD'S HOTEL TERRACE. NIGHT.
Katharine appears with Geoffrey to join the arriving
Explorers. She looks exquisite in her evening clothes.
Madox brings her to her seat. There is dancing inside, and
couples walk to and from their tables. Katharine manages to
produce a dazzling smile which includes everyone except
Almásy.
MADOX
Mrs. Clifton, you'll have to
forgive us. We're not accustomed
to the company of women.
KATHARINE
Not at all. I was thoroughly
enjoying by book.
(indicating they should
all sit
and then nodding at Almásy
before greeting the
others)
Please. Signor D'Agostino, Herr
Bermann.
CLIFTON
The team is in mourning, darling.
KATHARINE
Oh really?
MADOX
I'm afraid we're not having much
luck obtaining funds for the
expedition.
KATHARINE
How awful. What will you do?
MADOX
A more modest expedition, or even
wait a year. Remind our families
we still exist.
CLIFTON
(astonished)
Good heavens, are you married,
Madox?
MADOX
Very much so. We are all, save my
friend here.
He nods at Almasy. Clifton appears tremendously relieved.
CLIFTON
I feel much better, don't you
darling? We were feeling rather
self-conscious. Let's toast, then.
To absent wives.
D'AGOSTINO
(toasting Katharine)
And present ones.
KATHARINE
(toasting Almásy)
And future ones.
INT. SHEPHEARD'S HOTEL. NIGHT.
THE BALLROOM. A dance finishes. Almásy takes over from
D'Agostino to partner Katharine. They dance beautifully.
The others remain on the terrace in deep conversation.
KATHARINE
Why did you follow me yesterday?
ALMÁSY
Excuse me?
KATHARINE
After the market, you followed me
to the hotel.
ALMÁSY
I was concerned. As I said, women
in that part of Cairo, a European
women, I felt obliged to.
KATHARINE
You felt obliged to.
ALMÁSY
As the wife of one of our party.
KATHARINE
(sardonic)
So why follow me? Escort me, by
all means. Following me is
predatory, isn't it?
The dance finishes. They walk back to their table, where
Almásy leads Katharine back to her seat next to Clifton.
CLIFTON
I was just saying, I'm going to
cable Downing Street, see if I
can't stir up a few shillings -
Katharine's mother and the PM's
wife are best -
KATHARINE
(interrupting)
Darling, for goodness' sake!
CLIFTON
Well, she is!
INT. THE PATIENT'S ROOM. DAY.
Hana, having already replaced the bedlinen, is standing on a
stepladder trying to hang home-made drapes around the bed as
Caravaggio knocks tentatively, then comes in.
CARAVAGGIO
Hello.
THE PATIENT
Finally! So you're our Canadian
pickpocket?
He goes to help Hana, they work as he talks.
CARAVAGGIO
Thief, I think, is more accurate.
THE PATIENT
I understand you were in Africa.
Whereabouts?
CARAVAGGIO
Oh, all over.
THE PATIENT
All over? I kept trying to cover a
very modest portion and still
failed.
(to Hana)
Are you leaving us? Now's our
opportunity to swap war wounds.
HANA
Then I'm definitely going. And she
exits.
The men consider her.
CARAVAGGIO
Does she have war wounds?
INT. THE MONASTERY. HANA'S ROOM. DAY.
As Hana walks up her stairs she finds herself overhearing
their conversation as it threads up through the hole in the
ceiling. She strips her own bed of the curtain she uses for
a sheet.
THE PATIENT
I think anybody she ever loves
tends to die on her.
CARAVAGGIO
Are you planning to be the
exception?
THE PATIENT
Me? You've got the wrong end of
the stick, old boy.
(a pause)
So - Caravaggio - Hana thinks you
invented your name.
CARAVAGGIO
And you've forgotten yours.
THE PATIENT
I told her you would never invent
such a preposterous name.
CARAVAGGIO
I told her you can forget
everything but you never forget
your name.
EXT. BEACH CABIN. ITALY. DAY. 1944.
HANA IS STILL LISTENING BUT NOW SHE'S OUTSIDE A CABIN. She's
in her uniform, clearing things away. The Cabin door is
ajar. An OFFICER moves around, then sits to make notes.
OFFICER (O/S)
What about your rank or serial
number?
THE PATIENT (O/S)
No. I think I was a pilot. I was
found near the wreckage of a plane
by the Bedouin. I was with them
for some time.
THIS CONVALESCENCE HOSPITAL HAS BEEN FASHIONED FROM A LONG
ROW OF BATHING CABINS ON THE COAST, complete with Campari
Umbrellas and metal tables, at which are seated the bandaged
and the dying and the comatose, staring out to sea or in
slow, muted conversation. Hana walks up to the Patient's
cabin.
He is propped up with a view of the sea, which is interrupted
by the pacing Officer. Hana has a blanket and a chart for
the Patient's bed. She busies herself.
OFFICER
Do you remember where you were
born?
THE PATIENT
Am I being interrogated? You
should be trying to trick me. Ask
me about Tottenham Hotspur. Or
Buckingham Palace. About Marmite -
I was addicted. Or make me speak
German, which I can, by the way.
OFFICER
Why? Are you German?
THE PATIENT
No.
OFFICER
How do you know you're not German
if you don't remember anything?
THE PATIENT
You tell me. I remember a lot of
things. I remember a garden,
plunging down to the sea - the
Devil's Chimney we called it - and
there was a cottage at the bottom,
right on the shore, nothing between
you and France.
OFFICER
This was your garden?
THE PATIENT
Or my wife's.
OFFICER
Then you were married?
THE PATIENT
I think so. Although I believe
that to be true of a number of
Germans. Might I have a glass of
water?
Hana pours him a glass of water. He notices her.
THE PATIENT (CONT'D)
Thank you.
(he sips)
Look - my lungs are useless -
(makes a small gap with
his fingers)
I've got this much lung…the rest of
my organs are packing up - what
could it possibly matter if I were
Tutankhamun? I'm a bit of toast,
my friend - butter me and slip a
poached egg on top.
Hana leaves, smiling at the Patient's irascibility, sharing
this with the Officer, who frowns. The interview continues.
EXT. BEACH CABIN. DAY.
Hana walks between the cabins. STUART steps out of the
shade. He is drawn, older than last seen.
STUART
My leave is canceled. I can't meet
you later.
Hana frowns, helpless. As if to emphasize this, a Staff
Nurse comes by, carrying a bowl and a withering look.
INT. BEACH CABIN. DAY.
Hana enters, approaches the Patient. She's circumspect.
HANA
Excuse me -
THE PATIENT
Yes?
HANA
Can I ask - my friend, can he come
in? Just for a few minutes?
THE PATIENT
Your friend?
HANA
He's going back to the front this
evening. I can't see him
otherwise.
THE PATIENT
Just go off. I'll be quite all
right.
HANA
No, I can't go, but if it, if you
weren't offended, it would be very
good of you to allow us - every
other cabin is crammed. This is as
private as we'll get.
THE PATIENT
Well then - yes. Of course.
HANA
Thank you. Thank you.
She hurries out, returns with Stuart. They stand awkwardly.
HANA (CONT'D)
This is Captain McGann.
THE PATIENT
Please, don't waste your time on
pleasantries -
STUART
Thanks.
THE PATIENT
I'm going to sing. If I sing I
shan't hear anything.
And with that he bursts into a raucous, coughing version of
Yes! We Have No Bananas. He changes language each verse.
The couple stand, formal, then edge round to the back of the
bed.
HANA
(touching his lip)
You've got a mustache.
STUART
A bit of one.
HANA
I was looking forward to this
evening.
STUART
(whispers)
I had a hotel room.
HANA
(whispers)
I thought that was for when we were
very very old?
STUART
I'm feeling old.
They EMBRACE, fiercely, hardly making a sound, or moving.
THE PATIENT ROARS THE SONG.
EXT. THE MONASTERY. HANA'S GARDEN. MORNING.
A battered open backed TRUCK comes into the Monastery. An
ITALIAN PARTISAN sits in the back, a SHOTGUN resting on his
knees. The truck stops, and Caravaggio emerges from the
passenger door. He collects some packages from the PARTISAN,
including a dead RABBIT, and then exchanges a few words with
the driver. Hana, who's watching all of this from her
garden, sees that the driver is a WOMAN. The woman's name is
GIOIA, and Caravaggio leans into the window to make his
goodbye to her.
Caravaggio approaches the Vegetable Garden as Hana comes to
greet him. He throws her the rabbit, and hurries up the
stairs without pausing, clutching the other boxes.
CARAVAGGIO
Supper. Hana calls after him.
HANA
Where've you been?
CARAVAGGIO
(not stopping)
Rabbit hunting.
Hana looks at the rabbit. She's angry. Caravaggio hasn't
been around for a week.
INT. THE MONASTERY. DOWNSTAIRS CORRIDOR. DAY.
Hana heads up for the kitchen, then stops as there's a faint
CRASH from upstairs.
INT. THE MONASTERY. UPSTAIRS CORRIDOR. DAY.
Hana, the rabbit still in her hands, comes along the corridor
to find Caravaggio SLUMPED on the floor, retching. The
discarded NEEDLE lies beside him, the new package of MORPHINE
CAPSULES ripped open. He looks up at Hanna, glazed.
HANA
I could help you. I could get you
off that.
CARAVAGGIO
Can you cook the rabbit or will you
try and bring that back to life?
She bends, starts clearing up, putting the morphine phials
back into the box.
HANA
It's a week. We didn't know where
you were - or if you coming back,
or -
CARAVAGGIO
(of the drugs)
You should be happy. What were you
going to do for him when it ran
out? He pulls out more phials from
his jacket.
HANA
What do you do? What are you doing
here?
CARAVAGGIO
Some gave me a dress.
(starts to tear at a
parcel)
You know what's great? What I'm
learning? You win a war and you not
only gain the miles you get the
moral ground. Everywhere I go,
we're in the right. I like that.
INT. THE PATIENT'S ROOM. DAY.
Hana comes in, carrying a batch of the new morphine. She's
wearing a different FROCK. It's not new, and it's faded, but
the change of color is startling.
THE PATIENT
Something smells so rich. My
stomach is heaving -
HANA
He came back, he says he caught a
rabbit. I'm cooking it.
THE PATIENT
That's a different dress.
HANA
He keeps asking me questions about
you. Do you know him? Do you
recognize him?
THE PATIENT
Do I recognize him? I recognize
what he is. I like him. He's
Canadian. He can read Italian. He
can catch rabbits.
EXT. BASECAMP AT POTTERY HILL. DUSK.
Almásy squats with an ANCIENT ARAB outside his rudimentary
house, while he draws on the sand, talking in some arcane
dialect, scratching out a possible location for the lost
oasis. The man stops speaking and scours the sky a beat or
two before we or Almasy hear the faint noise of a PLANE.
It's Clifton's Steerman, Rupert Bear, coming in to land.
Almasy doesn't look up.
The Arab continues to talk. The newly-arrived Katharine has
scrambled up the hill to speak to Almásy.
KATHARINE
(diffident)
Hello. Not to interrupt but we're
celebrating.
She makes to leave but Almásy puts up a hand to keep
Katharine there, but quiet.
ALMÁSY
This is an incredible story - about
a man hunting an Ostrich, he's been
telling me about Zerzura, he thinks
he's been there, but his map, the
route he's describing, he couldn't
survive the journey now, but he's a
poet, so his map is poetry - and
now we're onto an Ostrich.
(to the Arab in ARABIC)
I'm telling her your map is poetry.
The Arab shrugs.
KATHARINE
What do you mean, poetry?
ALMÁSY
A mountain curved like a woman's
back, a plateau the shape of an
ear.
KATHARINE
Sounds perfectly clear. Where does
the Ostrich come in?
ALMÁSY
The Ostrich is a detour. A poor
man hunts an ostrich, it's the
method. Nothing to do with
Zerzura. To catch an ostrich you
must appear not to move. The man
finds a place where the ostrich
feeds, a wadi, and stands where the
ostrich can see him, on the
horizon, and doesn't move, doesn't
eat - otherwise the ostrich will
run. At nightfall, he moves,
fifty, sixty yards. When the
ostrich comes the next day, the man
is there, but he's nearer.
(to the guide)
Haunting the ostrich.
The Guide speaks, amplifying something, picking at his robe.
ALMÁSY (CONT'D)
Yes, the ostrich, it will feed a
family, not just the meat, but by
selling the feathers, beak, the
skin, a year from this one animal.
So, each day the man gets closer.
And the ostrich is not sure - has
something changed? - now the
standing man is only a few yards
from where it feeds. And then one
day, the man is in the wadi, in the
water. And the Ostrich comes, as
always, dips into the water and the
man JUMPS UP - and captures it.
He shrugs. The Arab has more to say. Almásy doesn't
respond, quieting him with a dismissive gesture.
KATHARINE
What is he saying?
(Almasy, awkward, shakes
his head)
Come on, what did he say?
ALMÁSY
He said - be careful.
KATHARINE
Be careful? You mean you - or me?
Who?
ALMÁSY
(to the Arab)
Her or me?
The Arab speaks again. Almasy speaks without looking at her.
ALMÁSY (CONT'D)
The one who appears not to be
moving.
INT. TENT. BASECAMP AT POTTERY HILL. NIGHT.
Katharine comes in. Then, a beat, and Almásy. Clifton is
holding up the champagne.
CLIFTON
Gentlemen, to Zerzura.
ALL
Zerzura.
MADOX
And a special thank you to Geoffrey
and Katharine, without whose fund
raising heroics we should still be
kicking our heels. They toast the
Cliftons.
CLIFTON
To arm-twisting.
MADOX
(to Almásy)
Did Katharine say? - Geoffrey has
to fly back to Cairo.
CLIFTON
Have to return the favor - take a
few photographs for the army.
KATHARINE
Darling, Peter says I could stay…
MADOX
(checking with Almásy)
Why not?
ALMÁSY
What kind of photographs?
CLIFTON
Portraits. The Brigadier, the
Brigadier's wife, the Brigadier's
dogs, the Brigadier at the
Pyramids, the Brigadier breathing.
KATHARINE
(to Clifton)
Why do you think? About my
staying?
CLIFTON
Well look, if nobody minds, truly,
then I suppose - I shall, of
course, be bereft…
KATHARINE
(playfully poking his
ribs)
Oh.
CLIFTON
But finally able to explore the
Cairo night-life.
I shall produce an authoritative
guide to the Zinc Bars and - I want
to say Harems - am I in the right
country for Harems?
EXT. BASECAMP AT POTTERY HILL. MORNING.
As Clifton prepares to leave in the Steerman, Almásy
approaches.
ALMÁSY
Safe journey.
CLIFTON
You too. Good luck!
ALMÁSY
Clifton - your wife - do you think
it's appropriate to leave her?
CLIFTON
Appropriate?
ALMÁSY
I think the desert is, it's - for a
woman - it's very tough, I wonder
if it's not too much for her.
CLIFTON
Are you mad? Katharine loves it
here. She told me yesterday.
ALMÁSY
All the same, I, were I you I would
be concerned -
CLIFTON
I've known Katharine since she was
three, my aunt is her aunt, we were
practically brother and sister
before we were man and wife. I
think I'd know what is and what
isn't too much for her. I think
she's know herself.
ALMÁSY
Very well.
CLIFTON
(laughing it off)
Why are you people so threatened by
a woman?!
He settles into the controls. Almásy watches the plane taxi
away. Doesn't move at all. Katharine waves from the tent as
the Steerman takes off.
EXT. BASECAMP AT POTTERY HILL.
The THREE FORD CARS leave the campsite, loaded for a scouting
expedition. The rest of the party, Bedouin, tents, camels
and Tiger Moth is left behind. Madox shouts last-minute
instructions from the window of his car.
EXT. DESERT EN ROUTE TO CAVE OF SWIMMERS. DAY.
FENELON-BARNES sits astride his camel, and wipes away the
sweat. The desert stretches for miles, shimmering, the sun
baking the sand. His GUIDES wind their headcloths tighter.
Nobody speaks. Then one of them looks round, raises a hand.
A BUZZING noise. They all turn. A SMALL CLOUD OF DUST
EMERGES OVER A RIDGE. Locusts? A sandstorm?
A CARAVAN OF CARS, the Almásy/Madox expedition, bumps along,
suspensions threatened by the constant dips and ridges. On
each car there are three in the passenger cabin, the open
backs crammed with drums of gasoline and water and equipment.
On the front vehicle, the tenth member of the party, KAMAL,
acts as a navigator and sits on a CAMEL SADDLE, a rodeo
cowboy, on the roof of the leading car, driven by Madox. As
they spot FENELON-BARNES they sound their horns and wave good
naturedly. F-B scowls, watches them roar by, stealing his
thunder.
EXT. DESERT EN ROUTE TO CAVE OF SWIMMERS. DAY.
ONE OF THE CARS IS HOPELESSLY BOGGED DOWN IN HEAVY SAND.
It's contents have been unloaded, and a rope ladder is being
inserted under the tires. The entire company huff and puff
and argue about the best means of extricating the vehicle.
INT. CAR EN ROUTE TO CAVE OF SWIMMERS. DAY.
LATER - Almásy drives the second car, accompanied by
Katharine and Al Auf. Katharine breaks the long silence.
KATHARINE
I've been thinking about - how does
somebody like you decide to come to
the desert? What is it? You're
doing whatever you're doing - in
your castle, or wherever it is you
live, and one day, you say, I have
to go to the desert - or what?
Almásy doesn't answer. Katharine, who has looked at him for
an answer, looks away. There's another long silence.
ALMÁSY
I once traveled with a terrific
guide, who was taking me to Faya.
He didn't speak for nine hours.
At the end of it he pointed at the
horizon and said - Faya! That was
a good day!
Point made, they lapse again into silence. Katharine boils.
KATHARINE
Actually, you sing.
ALMÁSY
Pardon?
KATHARINE
You sing. All the time.
ALMÁSY
I do not.
KATHARINE
Ask Al Auf. Almásy asks Al Auf in
Arabic.
He laughs, nods.
KATHARINE (CONT'D)
(sings wickedly)
I'll be down to get you in the
taxi, honey, you'd better be ready
about half-past eight…!
Al Auf nods and grins furiously, joins in, impersonating
Almásy. Almásy grunts in irritation.
EXT. NEAR THE BASECAMP AT THE CAVE OF SWIMMERS. DUSK.
The group is investigating a cleft in the rocky massif. They
climb slowly. Below them, A NEW AND TEMPORARY BASE CAMP.
The group winds around the rock. Almásy turns to offer a
hand to Katharine behind him, pulling her up to the next rock
slab. She smiles at him. He smiles back curtly, continues.
The group stops at a level plateau. The Arabs stand apart
and SING THEIR PRAYERS AT DUSK. Al Auf leads the
incantations.
AL AUF
Allahu Akbar, Allahu Akbar…
The westerners wait respectfully. As the sun sets in glory,
Almásy looks over at the range of rocks. One particular
range seems to look exactly like A WOMAN'S BACK. He squints
at the rock. Almásy discreetly pulls out his COMPASS.
EXT. CAVE OF SWIMMERS. DUSK.
Almásy clambers up the rocks, coming through a narrow crevice
to find A NATURAL SHELF. He scrambles up this path, reaching
up, only to notice that his hand almost perfectly covers A
PAINTED HAND on the rock, and as he digests this he realizes
he has climbed past what is THE MOUTH OF A CAVE. He
disappears inside.
INT. CAVE OF SWIMMERS. FLASHLIGHT.
A FLASHLIGHT squirts into the cave. Almásy treads cautiously
along the narrow winding passage. He comes to an open cavern
and takes his flashlight up to a wall. PAINTINGS EMERGE,
figures, animals, ancient pictures. A giraffe. Cattle.
Fish. Men with bows and arrows. Almásy is astonished by
what he sees.
EXT. NEAR THE CAVE OF SWIMMERS. EVENING.
The others watch as a flashlight bobs and jerks among the
rocks as Almásy comes scrambling down, transformed into an
excited teenager.
ALMÁSY
Madox! Madox!
He slithers in a heap in front of the astonished expedition
party. Doesn't care.
INT. CAVE OF SWIMMERS. FLASHLIGHT.
Almásy has led the whole party into the heart of the cave.
Now Madox comes alongside him at the wall, his flashlight
joining Almásy's and increasing the visibility of the
paintings. A dark-skinned figure, apparently in the process
of DIVING into water, comes clearly into view. Then others
supine, arms outstretched.
MADOX
(with audible excitement)
My God, they're swimming!
The others crowd round. FIVE EXCITED FACES IN THE GREEN
GLOOM OF THE CAVE.
EXT. CAVE OF SWIMMERS. DAY.
A hive of activity. The team has set up TRESTLES to
catalogue the finds as the Bedouin come out with baskets of
detritus, which they empty onto a growing heap as the Cave is
cleared out. Entering the cave, Almásy passes with camera
equipment, just as D'Ag emerges carrying the corpse of a
perfectly preserved DESERT FOX. D'Ag gestures to Almasy with
his customary enthusiasm, holding up the body of the fox.
D'AGOSTINO
Have you seen this? Astonishing.
Perfectly preserved.
INT. CAVE OF SWIMMERS. DAY.
Inside, Bermann is setting up LAMPS, running wires from a car
BATTERY. Kamal is helping him. And as Almásy arrives he
catches a tiny moment of tenderness between them. Bermann,
seeing him, quickly disengages and busies himself with the
lights. At another wall, Katharine is catching.
EXT. THE DESERT. DAY.
The CARS are heading back to Basecamp. They bounce over the
sand.
INT. BERMANN'S CAR. DAY.
Bermann is driving the lead CAR along some STEEP DUNES.
Almásy beside him. Bermann is peeling AN ORANGE, a segment
of which he holds out of the window. Kamal, riding shotgun,
leans down and collects it, his head dipping in to grin at
Bermann. Bermann looks uneasily as Almásy. He wants to tell
him of his passion, of his absolute love for Kamal, but he
daren't.
BERMANN
I love the desert, you see. That's
my, that's my - I can't think of
the word.
(Almásy nods)
How do you explain? To someone
who's never been here? Feelings
which seem quite normal.
ALMÁSY
(compassionate)
I don't know, my friend. I don't
know.
Bermann holds out another segment of the orange, and watches
the slim brown hand collect it. A MOMENTARY DISTRACTION IS
ALL IT TAKES FOR HIM TO MISJUDGE THE LINE AND SUDDENLY THE
DUNE COLLAPSES UNDER THE TIRE AND THE CAR LURCHES SIDEWAYS
AND TOPPLES OVER THE EDGE. D'Ag - following, Fouad beside
him - brakes sharply, but can't stop his own car from being
caught in the avalanche of sand, and IT PLUNGES DOWN THE DUNE
AND INTO BERMANN'S UPTURNED CAR WITH AN OMINOUS CRUNCH, the
radiator exploding. Only Madox, Katharine beside him, and a
little way behind, manages to stay clear of the trouble. He
jumps out of the vehicle and slides down the dune to find
pandemonium as the passengers stumble out of the cars, sand
flying, smoke pouring from the upright vehicle, the wheels of
the overturned car spinning wildly in the air, a puddle of
oil spreading ominously.
EXT. THE DESERT. DAY.
LATER and the group have cleaned up as best as possible.
D'Ag, Bermann, and Fouad are a little worse for wear.
Fouad's arm is in a sling, and D'Ag is sporting a bloody head
bandage. Bermann has broken a finger and is being attended
to by Madox. The luggage, water and petrol have been stacked
up and the men are loading up the remaining car. Almásy is
working at the crumpled end of the vehicle. He's having no
success.
EXT. THE DESERT. DAY.
Almásy, Kamal and two of the other young Bedouin stand around
the mess of the two broken vehicles. The ONE WORKING CAR is
loaded with men and provisions. Katharine sits inside, next
to Madox, Almásy comes over to her window, to speak past her
to Madox.
MADOX
I'll be back as quick as I can.
Thirty-six hours at the outside.
ALMÁSY
Try to get a second radiator, we'll
bury it between here and the
Pottery Hill. And a better jack.
We planned badly.
MADOX
(nods at Almásy, then
shouts over
to the wrecked vehicles)
Bermann!
This is Bermann's cue to take leave of Kamal who is staying
behind. Kamal makes a little bow.
KAMAL
May God make safety your companion.
Bermann nods and hurries away, squeezing into the car which
jolts off, bouncing over the track.
THE VEHICLE GETS ABOUT TWENTY YARDS, ALMASY WATCHING, BEFORE
IT SINKS FORLORNLY INTO THE SOFT SAND. IT'S HOPELESSLY
OVERLOADED WITH PEOPLE. THEY ALL GET OUT.
KATHARINE
I shall stay behind, of course
MADOX
Certainly not.
KATHARINE
I insist. There clearly isn't room
for us all, I'm the least able to
dig, and I'm not one of the walking
wounded. Those are facts. Besides,
if I remain it's the most effective
method of persuading my husband to
abandon whatever he's doing and
rescue us. It's hard to argue with
this logic.
Almásy shrugs.
LATER - THE MADOX CAR makes a more effective departure. And
Almasy and Katharine are left alone. THEY LOOK AT EACH OTHER
as if realizing this for the first time. Almasy immediately
returns to the two damaged vehicles and helps the men stretch
the cut canvas which was once a tent TO FASHION A MAKESHIFT
SHELTER BETWEEN THE TWO CARS. Katharine goes to join them.
There is no obstacle to the remorseless horizon, just miles
of undulating dunes.
INT. SHELTER. DAY.
Almásy sits alone, writing into HIS HERODOTUS, a map folded
in front of him, from which he makes notes. Katherine comes
across with a clutch of her SKETCHES from the Cave wall.
Hands them to him. They're beautiful.
ALMÁSY
What's this?
KATHARINE
I thought you might paste them into
your book.
ALMÁSY
We took several photographs,
there's no need.
KATHARINE
I'd like you to have them.
ALMÁSY
(handing them back)
There's really no need. This is
just a scrapbook. I should feel
obliged. Thank you.
KATHARINE
(exasperated)
And that would be unconscionable, I
suppose, to feel any obligation?
Yes. Of course it would.
She's already turning, walking as far from him as the cramped
shelter permits. He continues with his maps.
EXT. THE DESERT. NIGHT.
Katharine sits alone on top of the Dune, smoking, surveying
the landscape. Below her the makeshift camp - a fresh wind
flicking at the tarpaulin, THE DEEP TRACKS OF MADOX'S CAR
STRETCHING OFF TOWARDS CIVILIZATION. Almásy emerges from the
tent and, locating Katharine, heads towards her.
ALMÁSY
You should come into the shelter.
KATHARINE
I'm quite all right, thank you.
ALMÁSY
Look over there.
Katharine turns, scans the horizon.
KATHARINE
What am I looking at?
ALMÁSY
See what's happening to them - the
stars.
KATHARINE
They're so untidy. I'm just trying
to rearrange them.
ALMÁSY
In an hour there will be no stars.
The air is filling with sand.
He offers a hand. A little reluctantly she takes it.
EXT. SHELTER. NIGHT.
The team hurries around the improvised tent, weighing it down
with packing cases, gasoline drums, water cans, bringing
anything loose or light inside the tarpaulin. THE WIND is
whipping up, the air busy with sand. Almásy pushes everyone
under cover.
INT. SHELTER. NIGHT.
THE SAND SEEMS TO BE SCOURING THE TARPAULIN. Kamal and
Almásy try to secure one vulnerable area, but suddenly there
are leaks everywhere and the sand swarms inside.
It's noisy, too, and Almásy has to shout to make himself
understood, indicating to the Bedouin to grab water and
blankets and food, all the valuables, and get out.
He himself finds blankets and water and shouts at Katharine
to do the same. One side of the canvas suddenly RIPS apart
like paper. Chaos as figures struggle in ever-worsening
conditions, sand blizzarding the air.
EXT. SHELTER. NIGHT.
THE SHELTER FLIES INTO THE AIR, stranding the figures, their
heads wrapped in blankets, flashlights useless. They seek
safety in two groups, the tribesmen to the cabin of the
overturned car, Katharine and Almásy to the upright one.
INT. CAR. NIGHT.
Inside the cabin, the sand swirling around them, Katharine
and Almásy sit without speaking. Dawn is trying to break
through. He pours a little water into a mug so that they can
wash out their eyes and noses and mouths. She takes her silk
scarf and first dries her eyes with it, then dries his.
KATHARINE
This is not very good, is it?
ALMÁSY
No.
KATHARINE
Shall we be all right?
ALMÁSY
Yes. Absolutely.
KATHARINE
Yes is a comfort. Absolutely is
not.
EXT. THE DESERT. DAWN.
The sand is piling up against the two cars, the tent is swept
from its moorings, the water cans are hurled up too, and then
plunge ominously into sand drifts as if going under an ocean.
ALMÁSY (O/S)
…let me tell you about winds.
There is a whirlwind in Southern
Morocco, the Aajej, against which
the fellahin defend themselves with
knives.
The Ghibli from Tunis rolls and rolls and produces a rather
strange nervous condition… And we hear Katharine's laugh.
INT. CAR. DAWN.
Almasy sits alongside Katharine, whose head is against his
shoulder. He continues his story of winds.
ALMÁSY
- there is the Harmattan, a red
wind. Which Mariners called the sea
of darkness. Red sand from this
wind has flown as far as the south
coast of England, producing showers
so dense they were mistaken for
blood. Almasy checks to see if
Katharine is still awake.
KATHARINE
Fiction. We had a house on that
coast and it never rained blood.
Go on. More.
ALMÁSY
All true. Herodotus, your friend,
tells of a wind - the Simoon - so
evil that a nation declared war on
it and marched out to fight it in
full battle dress, their swords
raised.
EXT. THE DESERT. DAY.
MORNING. The sand has almost COMPLETELY ENGULFED the car on
the exposed side, covering the windshield like snow, and
encroaching onto the door of the protected flank.
INT. CAR. DAY.
Almásy is woken by sound of A DISTANT ENGINE. He jerks up,
waking Katharine in the process, and heaves against the door.
He can't open it, and has to lean his feet against the
passenger door, lying across Katharine, kicking it open.
EXT. THE DESERT. DAY.
By the time Almásy emerges from the car, the sand pouring
into the cabin, MADOX'S CAR IS ROARING ALONG THE HORIZON.
Almásy waves, shouts, and then runs back into the car, finds
his flare-gun, and SENDS A FLARE high into the sky.
Katharine is with him now, and they watch, helplessly, as the
car bounces away from them, Madox a man on a mission.
Katharine panics, THE SAND HAS ERASED ALL TRACES OF THEM.
She speaks quietly, shocked.
KATHARINE
Our tracks, where are they?
Almásy is preoccupied. He's gone back to their vehicle and
returns with a shovel, STARTS TO DIG FRANTICALLY.
ALMÁSY
Madox will have calculated how many
miles, they'll soon turn around.
KATHARINE
(realizing what he's
doing)
Oh my God, the others!
She kneels with him and helps to shovel away the sand WHICH
HAS COMPLETELY ENGULFED THE OTHER VEHICLE containing the
three Bedouin.
ALMÁSY
(during this)
Could I ask you, please, to paste
you paintings into my book? I
should like to have them. I should
be honored.
KATHARINE
Of course. Is it, am I a terrible
coward to ask how much water we
have?
ALMÁSY
(shoveling hard)
Water? Yes, we have water, we have
a little in our can, we have water
in the radiator which can be drunk.
Not at all cowardly, extremely
practical.
(anxious at not uncovering
the boys, egging himself
on)
Come on, come on!
(then back to Katharine)
There's also a plant - I've never
seen it but I'm told you can cut a
piece the size of a heart from this
plant and the next day it will be
filled with a delicious liquid.
KATHARINE
Find that plant. Cut out its
heart.
They hear NOISES, scrabbling, faint thumps. Almásy scrapes
at the sand and they find the glass of the car. The angle of
the cab, tilted up to the sky, has made it impossible for the
trapped boys to lever it open. Their oxygen is rapidly
deteriorating. Almásy pulls the door and it cranks open.
EXT. THE DESERT. DAY.
Katharine sits in the car, putting her pictures into the
Herodotus. It's full of ALMÁSY'S HANDWRITING, PHOTOGRAPHS,
SOME PRESSED FLOWERS. She deciphers a page of his words and
drawings. It's almost exclusively about her, the lines
studded with K.s.
She reads, astonished, then looks at him as he and two of the
three Bedouin circle the area of the cars in ever-widening
circles, like water-diviners, like Kip searches for mines.
Kamal is slumped against the front of the car. He's sick.
Almásy suddenly drops to his knees and begins to shovel into
the sand. He pulls out A CAN OF WATER. Turns to Katharine
and holds it triumphantly in the air.
INT. THE DESERT. NIGHT.
There's a small, weak fire. The group crouch around it. The
boys talk noisily to Almásy. Kamal is wrapped in a blanket
and shivering. Almásy gives him water, speaks to Katherine.
ALMÁSY
Kamal is passing blood. He must
have had some internal damage in
the crash. He needs medicine. I
think we must risk the other flare.
He gets up and loads the flare with what is clearly the last
charge. This time the effect is dramatic with A RED UMBRELLA
OF LIGHT. Katharine comes up beside him. They wait, hope
fading with the flare.
KATHARINE
(blank)
Geoffrey's not in Cairo.
(Almásy looks at her)
He's not actually a buffoon. And
the plane wasn't a wedding present.
It belongs to the British
Government. They want aerial maps
of the whole North Africa. So I
think he's in Ethiopia. In case
you were counting on his sudden
appearance.
ALMÁSY
And the marriage - is that a
fiction?
(There's a beat.
Katharine has a hundred
answers.)
KATHARINE
No, the marriage isn't a fiction.
The light from the flare fades on them and they stand in the
dark. Suddenly on the far horizon, behind their heads, AN
ANSWERING FLARE fireworks into the sky.
KATHARINE (CONT'D)
Thank God. Oh, thank God.
There's excited shouting from the two fit boys. They leap up
and run towards the couple, who meanwhile have realized that
the flare has not come from Madox, but from an approaching
CAMEL CARAVAN. Almásy shouts to the boys for some
identification.
KATHARINE (CONT'D)
Do they know them?
ALMÁSY
(squinting at the horizon)
No, but I think I do.
The Caravan slowly comes into focus. IT'S FENELON-BARNES.
Katharine touches Almásy's arm - an almost imperceptible
gesture.
KATHARINE
Am I K. in your book? I think I
must be.
Almásy turns to her. He runs the blade of his arm across her
neck - the sweat leaving a clear stripe.
Fenelon-Barnes approaches, dismounts from his camel, and
addresses Almásy.
FENELON-BARNES
I recollect your saying to ignore
your bones but I assume you have no
objection to my rescuing your
companion?
(to Katharine)
Good evening, Mrs. Clifton.
KATHARINE
(accepting his handshake)
Hello.
FENELON-BARNES
I'd like to introduce you to my
camel - the most notable beast on
earth.
(to Almásy)
I understand you found some
remarkable caves.
A goatskin bag of water is offered to Katharine. She drinks
and hands it to Almásy.
FENELON-BARNES (CONT'D)
Paintings of swimmers? Remarkable.
EXT. CAIRO. DAY.
ANOTHER WORLD as a honking TAXI containing Almásy and
Katharine negotiates the incredible bustle of Cairo.
EXT. SHEPHEARD'S HOTEL. DAY.
Almásy, still in the same clothes, and evidently weary,
emerges from the cab, and pulls Katharine's belongings from
the trunk, then holds open the door for her. As she walks
towards the hotel, he hands her bag to a porter. Katharine
is stung.
KATHARINE
Will you not come in?
ALMÁSY
No.
KATHARINE
Will you please come in?
ALMÁSY
(a beat)
Mrs. Clifton - Katharine turns,
disgusted.
KATHARINE
Don't.
ALMÁSY
I believe you still have my book.
Katharine fishes the book from her knapsack, shoves it at
him, then disappears.
INT. ALMÁSY'S ROOM. DAY.
Almásy lying on a camp bed, face down. The walls are covered
with maps, enlargements of photographs. A fan whirs over his
kit which is spread, unraveled but ordered, on the stone
floor. An ineffably male room, the shutters closed, just the
thinnest shaft of light piercing the gloom. Almásy hasn't
even removed his clothes, his boots kicked off below his
jutting feet.
There's A KNOCK at the door. Almásy sleeps. Another. A
third. He's roused from the dead. Stumbles to his feet,
opens the door as the knocking continues.
It's Katharine. She's bathed, luminous, stands back-lit by
the afternoon sun - an angel in a cotton dress. She walks
past him into the room. He closes the door. She turns. He
KNEELS before her, head at her thighs. She's crying, her
face expressionless as her hands go to his head.
KATHARINE
You still have sand in your hair.
She starts to BEAT on his head and shoulders, violently. He
pulls back, to look at her, the tears streaming down her
face. She kneels and covers his face with kisses. He pulls
blindly at her dress and it RIPS across her breasts.
INT. BATHROOM. DAY.
Almásy is in the bath. Katharine, wearing his dressing gown,
pours in a jug of steaming water. Almásy leans over the rim
of the bath. He's sewing, carefully repairing the torn
dress.
KATHARINE
I'm impressed you can sew.
ALMÁSY
Good.
KATHARINE
You sew very badly.
ALMÁSY
You don't sew at all!
KATHARINE
A woman should never learn to sew,
and if she can she should never
admit to it. Close your eyes.
ALMÁSY
(laughs)
That makes it harder still.
She pushes the sewing from his hands, then pours water over
his head, then begins to shampoo his hair.
Almásy is in heaven. The biggest smile we have seen from
him. She continues to massage his scalp.
ALMÁSY (CONT'D)
When were you most happy?
KATHARINE
Now.
ALMÁSY
When were you least happy?
KATHARINE
(a beat)
Now.
ALMÁSY
Okay. And what do you love? Say
everything.
KATHARINE
What do I love? I love rice
pudding, and water, the fish in it,
hedgehogs! The gardens at our house
in Freshwater - all my secret
paths.
She rinses his scalp, then slips off the robe and CLIMBS IN
BESIDE HIM, covering his neck and shoulders in kisses.
ALMÁSY
What else?
KATHARINE
Marmite - addicted! Baths - not
with other people! Islands. Your
handwriting. I could go on all
day.
(a beat)
My husband. Almásy nods.
ALMÁSY
What do you hate most?
KATHARINE
A lie. What do you hate most?
ALMÁSY
Ownership. Being owned. When you
leave, you should forget me.
She freezes, pulls herself away, out of the bath, looks at
him, then SLAPS HIM VERY HARD across the face.
She picks up her dress, the thread and needle dangling from
it, and walks, dripping, out of the room.
INT. THE PATIENT'S ROOM. NIGHT.
To the Patient it's as if Katharine is walking out of his
wall. He sighs with pain, then looks away to where Hana has
fallen asleep on the bed, almost on top of him. He touches
her. He speaks as if each word burns him.
THE PATIENT
Could I ask you to move? I'm sorry
- but when you turn, the sheets, I
can't really bear the sheets moving
over me. Sorry.
HANA
(mortified, moving
quickly)
Yes, of course, I'm so sorry.
Stupid of me. Hana gets up, upset
to have hurt him.
HANA (CONT'D)
I'm so sorry.
INT. THE MONASTERY KITCHEN. NIGHT.
Hana comes to the table, carrying a jug of water and a bowl.
She's still sad. She unbuttons her dress, pulling it off her
shoulder, begins to pour the water to cool herself against
the night's pressing heat.
EXT. EMERGENCY FIELD HOSPITAL. 1944. LATE DAY.
The EMERGENCY FIELD HOSPITAL is a cluster of tents
practically ahead of the Front Line SPORADIC GUN FIRE, LIGHT
AND HEAVY, SOUNDS THROUGHOUT. Mary walks by on her way to
the Nurse's tent. It's 1944 and the war in Italy is still
intense.
INT. EMERGENCY FIELD HOSPITAL TENT. LATE DAY.
JAN is washing out of her HELMET, and stands naked in her
socks. Hana is using a flannel to wash Jan's back. A couple
of other girls like, exhausted, on their cots. The mud is
everywhere. Another nurse is making tea out of an adapted
plasma can on their tiny primus.
MARY comes in and flops down. She's GIVEN BLOOD and is pale
and enervated.
MARY
Okay, Type Os, the vampires wait.
Everybody's giving a pint.
JAN
Ugh! If they were sucking it out I
wouldn't mind. It's the needle I
can't stand.
HANA
(laughing)
You're a nurse - how can you be
frightened of needles!
INT. TRIAGE TENT, EMERGENCY FIELD HOSPITAL. NIGHT.
Hana walks through the main TRIAGE TENT. It's packed with
the ruined bodies of the injured, swaddled in bloody
bandages. Hana stops at a couple of beds, shares a word or
two with the patients.
She stops at another bed, leans over its occupant. His
bandaged face is bloated and yellow. He's not breathing.
She bends over him, his open eyes fixed in a glassy stare.
No pulse. She snaps the triangular cardboard ID from his bed
to indicate HE'S DIED. Then tenderly closes his eyes. THEY
SUDDENLY SNAP OPEN. HE REARS UP, GRABBING HER.
WOUNDED SOLDIER
Can't wait to have me dead? You
bitch!
He slaps her hand away. Slaps at the tubes going into his
arm. Hana is absolutely shocked. But just as suddenly he's
sunk back into semi-consciousness.
Shaken, she sits by him and takes his hand, he pulls it away,
she takes it again. He is in terrible pain. His face
creased with anger. Now his hand is clutching at hers. She
tries to soothe him.
HANA
Try t be calm. Ssssshhh. Come on.
Be calm now. Ssshhhh. Be
peaceful. It's okay. It's okay.
HIS FACE STILLS. HIS HAND LOOSENS. Now he has gone. As
Hana inspects him, a shell seems to land close by. THE
LIGHTS FLICKER. She ducks, along with everyone else.
Below the bed, on slatboards, above the mud, are the now dead
soldier's possessions. They include A PAIR OF TENNIS SHOES.
INT. TRIAGE TENT, EMERGENCY FIELD HOSPITAL. EVENING.
HANA, WEARING THE TENNIS SHOES, IS GIVING BLOOD. She lies in
a cot, next to JAN. The shelling sounds closer.
OLIVER, the Doctor, is working on the most recent patient, a
young CANADIAN Boy who is critically ill - the tubes hanging
above him, of plasma and of blood. The curtain drawn around
him is pulled back, to reveal the two nurses in the
background. The Soldier can just see them. He's going to
die any minute.
CANADIAN SOLDIER
(whispering to Oliver)
Is there anybody here from Picton?
OLIVER
Picton? I don't know.
CANADIAN SOLDIER
I'd like to see somebody from home
before I go.
Hana can only really hear Oliver's end of this conversation,
but the mention of Canada chills her, and she knows, now, not
later, that Stuart is dead.
HANA
(to Oliver)
Why Picton?
OLIVER
He's from there - edge of Lake
Ontario right, Soldier?
The boy nods.
JAN
(innocent)
Where's your Stuart from? Somewhere
near there, isn't it?
HANA
(to Oliver)
As him what company he's with? Oliver leans over, then turns
to Hana.
OLIVER
Third Canadian Fusiliers.
HANA
Does he know a Captain McGann? The
boy hears this, whispers to Oliver.
CANADIAN SOLDIER
He bought it. Yesterday. Shot to
bits. The shells are getting
closer.
HANA
What did he say?
OLIVER
(can't look at her)
Doesn't know him.
A SHELL SUDDENLY LANDS ON TOP OF THE SITE, PERHAPS FIFTY
YARDS FROM THE TENT. THE LIGHTS GO OUT. THEN ANOTHER LANDS.
Everybody is on the floor, struggling to get on a helmet.
Hana lies down, the blood still leaving her, her helmet on.
Oliver is next to her in the mud. Her heart is breaking.
HANA
He's gone, hasn't he?
OLIVER
No. He's - no.
HANA
Oh God. Oh God.
The shells pound them, incredibly loud, drowning out her
grief, but each explosion illuminates it for a moment.
INT. THE MONASTERY KITCHEN. NIGHT.
Caravaggio comes into the kitchen. Hana is slumped at the
table, her back naked. The jug of water in front of her.
She's sobbing, her shoulders heaving. Caravaggio approaches
tentatively.
CARAVAGGIO
Hana?
(he touches her shoulder)
Hana? Are you alright?
HANA
(without raising her head)
Don't touch me if you're going to
try and fuck me.
CARAVAGGIO
(soothing)
I'll have some of your water. It's
hot.
She reaches for her blouse, wraps it around herself. Her
face is read with weeping.
CARAVAGGIO (CONT'D)
(gently)
You have to protect yourself from
sadness. This is the thing I've
learned.
(drinking the water)
You're in love with him, aren't
you? Your patient. Do you think
he's a saint or something? Because
of the way he looks? I don't think
he is.
HANA
I'm not in love with him. I'm in
love with ghosts. And so is he.
He's in love with ghosts.
CARAVAGGIO
Who are his ghosts?
HANA
Ask him.
CARAVAGGIO
(he holds up his hands)
What if I told you he did this to
me?
HANA
(stung)
What? How could he have? When?
CARAVAGGIO
I'm one of his ghosts and he
wouldn't even know. It's like he
slammed a door in Cairo and it
trapped my fucking hands in Tobruk.
HANA
I don't know what that means.
CARAVAGGIO
(shrugs)
Ask him. Ask your saint who he is.
Ask him who he's killed.
HANA
(furious)
Please don't creep around this
house.
INT. THE PATIENT'S ROOM. DAY.
Hana sits reading from the Herodotus. She shows the Patient
the page where a CHRISTMAS CRACKER WRAPPER covered in
handwriting has been glued in.
HANA
Tell me about this, this is in your
handwriting - December 22nd -
Betrayals in war are childlike
compared with our betrayals during
peace. New lovers are nervous and
tender, but smash everything - for
the heart is an organ of fire…
(she looks up)
I love that, I believe that.
(to him)
Who is K?
THE PATIENT
K is for Katharine.
EXT. AMBASSADOR'S RESIDENCE, DECEMBER 1938. DAY.
A CHRISTMAS PARTY FOR THE TROOPS. The incongruous attempts
to create a traditional Christmas in the dusty heat of Cairo.
The Party is in the courtyard of the Moorish Palace which
serves as the private residence of the British Ambassador,
SIR RONNIE HAMPTON. Lots of Wives, including LADY HAMPTON
and Katharine help serve tea and cake to the SOLDIERS who sit
at rudimentary tables with paper plates and paper hats. A
man dressed as SANTA CLAUS is giving out presents - PENGUIN
PAPERBACKS, CHOCOLATE. Music blares out from a loudspeaker.
Officers and Civilians walk the parameter. One of these,
arriving, is Almasy. He sits in the shade, catches
Katharine's attention. Katharine brings him over a cup of
tea and a plate with Christmas cake on it.
ALMÁSY
Say you're sick.
KATHARINE
What? No!
ALMÁSY
Say you're feeling faint - the sun.
KATHARINE
(but a frisson)
No.
ALMÁSY
I can't work. I can't sleep. Lady
Hampton calls impatiently.
LADY HAMPTON
Katharine!
KATHARINE
Coming.
(to Almásy)
I can't sleep. I woke up shouting
in the middle of the night.
Geoffrey thinks it's the thing in
the desert, the trauma.
ALMÁSY
I can still taste you.
KATHARINE
(waving at another woman
who
pushes a trolley with
teapots)
This is empty, just coming!
ALMÁSY
I'm trying to write with your taste
in my mouth.
(as she leaves)
Swoon. I'll catch you.
Almásy sits watching the party. The Santa Claus is dragged
outside by some excited Children. Almásy picks at his cake
removing the thick marzipan icing. He's writing on A
CHRISTMAS CRACKER WRAPPER, smoothing it out - December 22nd.
Betrayals in war are childlike compared with out betrayals
du…
Katharine, attending to a raucous table, suddenly sags at the
knees, and SWOONS. People rush to her.
KATHARINE
I'm fine. How silly.
OFFICER'S WIFE
(helping her to her feet)
It's the heat.
LADY HAMPTON
You should sit down, darling.
(to the others)
She's quite all right.
(escorts Katharine away)
Are you pregnant?
KATHARINE
I don't think so.
LADY HAMPTON
(squeezing her arm)
How romantic. With Fiona I fell
over every five minutes. Ronnie
Christened me Lady Downfall.
KATHARINE
I think I might go inside and sit
down for a few minutes.
LADY HAMPTON
I'll come with you.
KATHARINE
No, please. I shall be absolutely
fine. They pass Almásy, who doesn't
look up from his book.
INT. STORE ROOM. AMBASSADOR'S RESIDENCE. DAY.
A small STOREROOM inside the Palace - Brooms, Mops, Cleaning
Equipment. Outside, the party is visible as opaque shadows
through the beveled glass of the ornate window. The sound of
carols sung by the enlisted men gives way to a version of
SILENT NIGHT played on a solitary bagpipe. Inside, ALMÁSY
AND KATHARINE MAKE LOVE IN THE DARKNESS. Everything is too
fast, desperate, standing up, grabbing, hoisting clothes.
INT. CORRIDORS. AMBASSADOR'S RESIDENCE. DAY.
A CORRIDOR. Almásy appears and almost immediately collides
with the man dressed as SANTA CLAUS. He moves to one side.
CLIFTON
Have you seen Katharine?
ALMÁSY
(taken aback)
What?
CLIFTON
It's Geoffrey under this.
ALMÁSY
I haven't, no. Sorry.
INT. SIDE ROOM IN AMBASSADOR'S RESIDENCE. DAY.
Geoffrey continues scouting the warren of tiny rooms that run
off the central courtyard. He finds Katharine sitting in
one, smoking, surrounded by oppressive and elaborate tiling.
Clifton wonders briefly how Almásy had missed Katharine.
CLIFTON
Darling, I just heard. You poor
sausage, are you all right?
KATHARINE
I'm fine. I got hot.
CLIFTON
Lady H said she thought you might
be -
KATHARINE
I'm not pregnant. I'm hot. I'm
too hot.
CLIFTON
Right.
KATHARINE
Aren't you?
CLIFTON
Sweltering.
(taking off his hat and
beard)
Come on, I'll take you home.
KATHARINE
Can't we really go home? I can't
breathe.
Aren't you dying for green,
anything green, or rain, wouldn't
you die to feel rain on your face?
It's Christmas and it's all - I
don't know - if you asked me I'd go
home tomorrow. If you wanted.
CLIFTON
Sweetheart, you know we can't go
home, there might be a war.
KATHARINE
(poking at his costume)
Geoffrey, you do so love putting on
a disguise.
CLIFTON
I do so love you.
(he kisses her head)
What do you smell of?
KATHARINE
What?
CLIFTON
Marzipan! I think you've got
marzipan in your hair. No wonder
you're homesick.
INT. THE PATIENT'S ROOM. EVENING.
The Patient lies alone in his room. CLIFTON'S FACE stares
back at him from among the frescoes. Then something
distracts him.
THE PATIENT
Are you outside? A beat and then
Caravaggio shuffles in. Like an
old boxer.
CARAVAGGIO
I can't hide anymore.
(jerks up his hands)
I breathe like a dog. I lose my
balance. Stealing's got harder.
Caravaggio stares at the Herodotus.
CARAVAGGIO (CONT'D)
Why do I feel if I had your book I
would know everything?
THE PATIENT
I don't even know if it is my book.
The Bedouin found it in the plane,
in the wreckage. It's mine now. I
heard your breathing and thought it
might be rain.
I'm dying for rain - of course I'm
dying anyway - but I long to feel
rain on my face.
Caravaggio comes close, scrutinizing the face, trying to
repair the features. Exasperated.
CARAVAGGIO
Is it you? If I said Moose… I look
different, fuck, why shouldn't you?
THE PATIENT
(impassive)
Moose.
CARAVAGGIO
(a different tack)
First wedding anniversary - what do
you call it?
THE PATIENT
I don't know. Paper. Is it?
Paper?
(sharp, not wanting to
think)
I don't remember.
INT. MONASTERY LIBRARY. DAY.
Hana stands at the PIANO. It's still lop-sided, propped
against the wall. She tries but can't move it. So she pulls
off the dust-sheet and, with the instrument still on a tilt,
begins to play the Aria from Bach's Goldberg Variations.
INT. THE PATIENT'S ROOM. DAY.
HANA'S PIANO CONTINUES. Upstairs, Caravaggio chats with the
Patient while working his arms to RAISE A VEIN, a boot-lace
tied around it, preparing an injection for himself, tapping
the syringe. During this:
THE PATIENT
I have come to love that little tap
of the fingernail against the
syringe. Tap.
INT. MONASTERY LIBRARY. DAY.
Hana plays. GUN SHOTS punctuates the music. She's totally
engrossed and only hears the second or third shot. Her hands
falter, she looks up to see A SIKH SOLDIER RUNNING ACROSS THE
FIELD WAVING HIS ARMS, his REVOLVER held aloft. He
approaches the door, his face creased with anxiety, and raps
on the shattered frame. It's KIP.
She gets up and walks past Kip standing at the door, and
continues the seven or eight feet to the right and out into
the garden VIA THE HOLE RIPPED OUT OF THE WALL.
HANA
Excuse me. Yes?
(of the doors)
I don't have the key to that door.
KIP
The Germans were here. The Germans
were all over this area. They left
mines everywhere. Pianos were
their favorite hiding places.
HANA
I see.
(then mischievous)
Then may be you're safe as long as
you only play Bach. He's German.
Kip is looking around the piano.
Hana giggles.
KIP
Is something funny?
HANA
No, but, no, not at all. I'm
sorry. You came to the doors,
that's all and -
(a little laugh)
- such good manners for someone
worried about mines. That's all.
KIP
I've met you before.
HANA
I don't think so.
Hana bends to see what Kip's looking at under the piano.
Wires run from the wall to the instrument onto which is taped
an EXPLOSIVE CHARGE. If Hana had succeeded in moving the
piano she would have triggered the charge. Kip looks at Hana
who conceals her dismay with a shrug.
EXT. THE MONASTERY GARDEN. DUSK.
Across from the terrace, HARDY AND KIP ARE PUTTING UP THEIR
TENTS. Caravaggio stands, chatting amiably to them, holding
a haversack, smoking a cigarette.
INT. THE PATIENT'S ROOM. DUSK.
Hana looks down from the Patient's room, watching the tents
go up.
HANA
He wants us to move out, says there
could be fifty more mines in the
building. He thinks I'm mad because
I laughed at him. He's Indian, he
wears a turban.
THE PATIENT
Sikh. If he wears a turban, he's a
Sikh.
Kip glances up at the window. Hana, suddenly shy, backs
away.
HANA
I'll probably marry him.
THE PATIENT
Really? That's sudden.
HANA
My mother always told me I would
summon my husband by playing the
piano.
She goes over to the Patient's bed.
HANA (CONT'D)
I liked it better when there were
just the two of us.
THE PATIENT
Why? Is he staying?
HANA
With his Sergeant. A Mr. Hardy.
THE PATIENT
We should charge! Doesn't anyone
have a job to do?
HANA
They have to clear all the local
roads of mines. That's a big job.
They won't stay in the house.
They're putting up their tent in
the garden.
THE PATIENT
In that case, I suppose we can't
charge.
INT. OFFICE, BRITISH HQ. CAIRO. DAY.
A SMALL OFFICE, shared by two men, and a mountain of filing
cabinets and paper.
There are AERIAL MAPS all over the walls. Clifton is on the
telephone, while his colleague, RUPERT DOUGLAS, works at the
desk.
CLIFTON
(into the phone)
Darling, it's me, I'm sorry,
something's come up.
(Katharine responds)
Don't sulk - I'll be back tomorrow
evening. I promise.
(Katharine responds)
Okay my precious, I love you.
Rupert makes a face at his friend's sentimentality. Clifton
beams.
RUPERT
I didn't know you were going
anywhere?
CLIFTON
I'm not. I'm going to surprise
her. It's our anniversary. She's
forgotten, of course. What's the
symbol for your first anniversary?
I should get something. Is it
paper?
(he knocks sharply on the
wall)
Moose! Moose, you there? First
Anniversary - is it cotton?
CARAVAGGIO
Is what cotton?
CLIFTON
First Wedding Anniversary.
RUPERT
(of Clifton)
He's hopeless!
CLIFTON
Your day will come, my sausage.
CARAVAGGIO
Your first anniversary is Paper.
EXT. CAIRO STREET. O/S SHEPHEARD'S HOTEL. DAY.
The approach to the Shepheard's Hotel. Geoffrey Clifton in a
TAXI, champagne between his knees.
The car ahead of them SCREECHES TO A HALT as a WOMAN hurries
across the street. The driver honks his horn angrily.
The woman puts up a hand in apology as she skips across the
street to another taxi. IT'S KATHARINE - she's dressed for a
date, carries flowers, an overnight bag.
Geoffrey, at first excited, is troubled by the accouterments.
Then he sees Katharine skip and his whole being punctures.
Katharine's cab roars off. His own car jerks forward.
CLIFTON
Stop!
CABBIE
Please?
CLIFTON
Stop here.
CABBIE
Yes sir.
Geoffrey sits in the cab. Fifty yards short of the hotel.
The world rushes by. He finds a cigarette.
INT. ALMÁSY'S ROOMS. LATE DAY.
Katharine is in bed. Almásy has just put A RECORD on. It's
the folk song heard at the beginning of the film. He slips
back under the covers. Their clothes are scattered around
the room. He lies over a happy Katharine. She listens.
KATHARINE
This is - what is this?
ALMÁSY
It's a folk song.
KATHARINE
Arabic?
ALMÁSY
No, no, it's Hungarian. My daijka
sang it to me.
KATHARINE
(as they listen)
It's beautiful. What's it about?
ALMÁSY
(as if interpreting)
It's a long song - Szerelem means
love…and the story - there's a
Hungarian Count, he's a wanderer, a
fool. For years he's on some kind
of quest, who knows what?
And then one day he falls under the
spell of a mysterious English woman
- a harpy - who beats him and hits
him and he becomes her slave. He
sews her clothes, he worships the
hem of -
Katharine had thought for a few seconds he was serious, then
she catches on and starts to beat him.
ALMÁSY (CONT'D)
(laughing)
Ouch! See - you're always beating
me..!
KATHARINE
You bastard, I was believing you!
They embrace, he lies over her, considering her naked back.
ALMÁSY
I claim this shoulder blade - oh
no, wait - I want this!
He turns her over, kisses her throat, then traces the hollow
indentation.
ALMÁSY (CONT'D)
This - what's it called? - this
place, I love it - this is mine!
(Katharine doesn't know)
I'm asking the King permission to
call it the Almasy Bosphorous.
KATHARINE
(teasing)
I thought we were against
ownership?
(kissing him)
I can stay tonight.
The luxury of this makes them both sad. The duplicity.
Almásy rolls away on to his back.
ALMÁSY
Madox knows, I think. He's tried
to warn me. He keeps talking about
Anna Karenina. I think it's his
idea of a man-to-man chat. Its my
idea of a man-to-man chat.
KATHARINE
This is a different world - is what
I tell myself. A different life.
And here I am a different wife.
ALMÁSY
Yes. A different wife.
INT. CAB. CAIRO STREET. O/S SHEPHEARD'S HOTEL. NIGHT.
The CAB DRIVER is asleep. A loud POP! jerks him awake. In
the back of the car Geoffrey has opened the champagne. He
lets it overflow, then takes a swig. He notices the startled
driver and puts up an apologetic arm.
CLIFTON
Sorry.
Two or three CHILDREN knock on the window, begging. Geoffrey
knocks back, violently. They disappear.
CABBIE
Hotel now, sir?
GEOFFREY
No.
And he throws a silencing wad of money onto the seat by the
Cabbie.
EXT. ALMASY'S HOUSE. OLD CAIRO. DAWN.
Almásy and Katharine wander out of his building and into the
early morning streets, hand in hand.
EXT. SPICE MARKET. CAIRO. DAWN.
The MORNING PRAYERS rise out from the city's three Minarets.
Almásy stops at a stall, which is just preparing to open for
the day. He picks up a SILVER THIMBLE, points at it to the
merchant who gives him a price. Without comment, Almásy
produces the money and, beaming, hands the thimble to
Katharine.
ALMÁSY
I don't care to bargain.
(she smiles)
It's full of saffron, just in case
you think I'm giving it to you to
encourage your sewing.
KATHARINE
That day, had you followed me to
the market?
ALMÁSY
Of course. You didn't need to slap
my face to make me feel as if you'd
slapped my face.
KATHARINE
(loving him, but
frightened)
Shall we be all right?
ALMÁSY
Yes. Yes.
(shrugs)
Absolutely.
EXT. CAIRO STREET. DAWN.
Katharine takes leave of Almásy on the street corner away
from the hotel entrance. They don't kiss, there's no
demonstration of feeling. He turns immediately away and
disappears.
INT. CAB. CAIRO STREET. O/S SHEPHEARD'S HOTEL. DAY.
Geoffrey, unshaven, watches as Katharine crosses the street
and heads towards the hotel. His expression is terrible,
trying to smile, his face collapsed.
INT. THE PATIENT'S ROOM. MORNING.
Cheek to Cheek leaks into the room from a GRAMOPHONE that
Caravaggio stands over proudly. The Patient opens his eyes -
is confused, dislocated - stares blankly at Caravaggio.
CARAVAGGIO
(grinning)
Thought you'd never wake up!
THE PATIENT
What? Hana comes in, sleepily,
frowns at the gramophone.
HANA
Where did you find that?
CARAVAGGIO
I liberated it.
HANA
I think that's called looting.
CARAVAGGIO
(relaxed)
No-one should own music. The real
question is who wrote the song?
THE PATIENT
Irving Berlin.
CARAVAGGIO
For?
THE PATIENT
Top Hat.
CARAVAGGIO
Is there a song you don't know?
HANA
(speaking for him)
No. He sings all the time.
She goes over to the Patient and kisses him gently.
HANA (CONT'D)
Good morning.
(of his singing)
Did you know that? You're always
singing?
THE PATIENT
I've been told that before.
HANA
Kip's another one.
She goes to the window, looks over to where the tents are
pitched, sees Hardy shaving, Kip IN THE PROCESS OF WASHING
HIS HAIR, his turban HANGING LIKE A RIBBON between two trees
to dry. He's perched a bowl on the sundial and is dipping
his long coal-black hair into it. As Hana watches Kip,
Caravaggio changes the record. The Patient identifies it
immediately.
EXT. MONASTERY GARDEN. MORNING.
Hana walks past the tent, and passes Hardy. She's carrying a
small cup, which she's a little furtive about. He's carrying
a whole armada of OIL LIGHTS. He nods upstairs.
HANA
Hello.
HARDY
Hello miss.
HANA
I was going to say - if you want to
eat with us, ever… you and
Lieutenant Singh…
HARDY
Very kind of you, we can always eat
in the town with the others -
HANA
Since Caravaggio turned up - food
seems to appear, so please.
HARDY
I'll ask the Lieutenant. But thank
you.
HANA
You saved my life. I haven't
forgotten.
(Hardy waves that away)
I thought you were very very tall.
You seemed to big - a Giant - and I
felt like a child who can't keep
her balance.
HARDY
(does a little mime)
A toddler
She goes on, and tentatively approaches Kip, who's still
working at his hair. Kip hears her and puts out an inquiring
arm, moving towards her like a blink man through the curtain
of hair. He touches her.
HANA
Sorry, is it all right I'm seeing
this? Kip shrugs.
HANA (CONT'D)
My hair was long. At some point.
I've forgotten what a nuisance it
is to wash. You know - if you were
ever around - we get water from the
pump at noon
He continues to wash. She holds up the cup of oil.
HANA (CONT'D)
Try this. I found a great jar of
it. Olive oil. In Naples this was
so precious it would have bought
you a wife.
KIP
Thank you.
She stands for a second, then walks away. Kip examines the
oil, calls after her.
KIP (CONT'D)
For my hair?
HANA
(turning, smiling)
Yes, for your hair.
EXT. THE MONASTERY. HANA'S GARDEN. DAY.
HANA IS GARDENING, close to the crucifix, which is now a full
fledged Scarecrow. Broken bottles, fragments of stained
glass and shards from a mirror are hung from the crossbar,
syringes too, all jangling and tinkling and catching the
sunlight.
Kip and Hardy drive off to work on their motorcycles. She
watches them, catching Kip's careless wave to her. She looks
briefly at herself in A PIECE OF MIRROR dangling from the
Scarecrow.
INT. THE MONASTERY. UPSTAIRS LANDING. DAY.
Hana walks along the landing with a tray. There's a message
on several doors in the corridor from Kip: SAFE, then a
couple with the warning: DANGER. She hears noise from the
Patient's room. Listens for a second before going in.
THE PATIENT (O/S)
Because you're reading it too fast!
THE PATIENT (O/S) (CONT'D)
Not at all.
THE PATIENT (O/S) (CONT'D)
You have to read Kipling slowly!
Your eye is too impatient - think
about the speed of his pen.
(quoting Kipling to
demonstrate)
What is it - He sat comma in
defiance of municipal orders comma
astride the gun Zamzammah on her
brick… What is it?
INT. THE PATIENT'S ROOM. DAY.
During this, Hana comes through with the tray, finds Kip
perched on the window, relishing his skirmish with the
Patient, who has condensed milk dribbling down his neck.
KIP
Brick platform opposite the old
Ajaib-Gher -
THE PATIENT
- The Wonder House comma as the
natives called the Lahore Museum.
KIP
It's still there, the cannon,
outside the museum.
It was made of metal cups and bowls
taken from every household in the
city as tax, then melted down. Then
later they fired the cannon at my
people - comma - The natives.
THE PATIENT
So what do you really object to -
the writer or what he's writing
about?
KIP
What I really object to, Uncle, is
your finishing all my condensed
milk.
(snatching up the empty
can)
And the message everywhere in your
book - however slowly I read it -
that the best destiny for India is
to be ruled by the British.
THE PATIENT
Hana, we have discovered a shared
please - the boy and I.
HANA
Arguing about books.
THE PATIENT
Condensed milk - one of the truly
great inventions.
KIP
(grinning, leaving)
I'll get another tin. Hana and the
Patient are alone.
HANA
I didn't like that book either.
It's all about men. Too many men.
Just like this house.
THE PATIENT
You like him, don't you? Your
voice changes.
HANA
I don't think it does.
(a beat)
Anyway, he's indifferent to me.
THE PATIENT
I don't think it's indifference.
Kip comes bounding in with a fresh can.
THE PATIENT (CONT'D)
Hana was just telling me that you
were indifferent -
HANA
(appalled)
Hey! -
THE PATIENT
- to her cooking.
KIP
Well, I'm indifferent to cooking,
not Hana's cooking in particular.
(stabbing at the tin with
a bayonet)
Have either of you ever tried
condensed milk sandwiches?
DELETED.
INT. THE PATIENT'S ROOM. MORNING.
Caravaggio and the Patient are singing - an Arab song which
they both know from Cairo days. THUNDER accompanies them.
It's pouring. Suddenly the door is flung open and HANA, KIP
and HARDY appear. They have the stretcher with them.
EXT. THE MONASTERY CLOISTERS. MORNING.
A whoop precedes THE HEADLONG RUSH OF KIP, HARDLY and
CARAVAGGIO as they cart the Patient across the Cloisters like
manic stretcher-bearers. Hana is with them, holding an
umbrella over the Patient who bounces uncomfortably. He is
nervous, a little giddy. The rain buckets down.
THE PATIENT
(no irony)
Careful - careful! EXT. THE
MONASTERY GARDEN. MORNING.
The storm tour includes a trip around the pond. The Patient
pushes away the umbrella, lets the rain drench him. He
grins at Hana.
THE PATIENT (CONT'D)
This is wonderful!
KIP
(to Hana)
What's he saying?
HANA
He's saying it's wonderful!
INT. LIBRARY OF THE DEPARTMENT OF EGYPTOLOGY. DAY.
Madox and Almásy are camped in one corner of THE LIBRARY,
hunched over their maps and papers and journals and clashing
furiously over the site of the next part of the expedition.
MADOX
(pushing away his charts)
And I'm telling you there's nothing
there to explore.
ALMÁSY
No, because you can't see from the
air! If you could explore from the
air life would be very simple!
(he yanks up a map)
Look! What is that? Is that a
wadi? That whole spur is a real
possibility…
MADOX
Which we've overflown twice.
ALMÁSY
Which we couldn't explore because
of rocks, because of cross-winds,
it's sloppy.
(stabbing another
location)
And here - and here - we could be
staring at Zerzura.
Other readers look over at this unseemly skirmish.
MADOX
So - on Thursday you don't trust
Bell's map - Bell was a fool, Bell
couldn't draw a map, but on Friday
he's suddenly infallible?
Almásy is surprised by Madox' anger.
MADOX (CONT'D)
And where are the Expedition Maps?
ALMÁSY
In my room.
MADOX
Those maps belong to His Majesty's
Government. They're confidential.
They shouldn't be left lying around
for any Tom, Dick or Mary to have
sight of.
ALMÁSY
What's the matter with you?
MADOX
Don't be so bloody naïve. You know
there's a war breaking out.
(he tosses a slip of paper
onto
the map, recites its
message)
This arrived this morning. By
order of the British Government -
all International Expeditions to be
aborted by May 1939.
INT. CAIRO STREET. DAY.
Almásy and Madox walk down this busy and rather narrow street
without pavements. Both of them somber.
ALMÁSY
Why do they care about our maps?
MADOX
What do we find in the desert?
Arrow heads, spears. In a war, if
you own the desert, you own North
Africa.
ALMÁSY
(contemptuous)
Own the desert.
Almásy hesitates at a junction, clearly about to take leave
of Madox.
ALMÁSY (CONT'D)
That place at the base of a woman's
throat? You know - the hollow -
here - does that have an official
name?
Madox looks at him.
MADOX
For God's sake, man - pull yourself
together.
INT. OPEN-AIR CINEMA. CAIRO. EVENING.
The OPEN-AIR CINEMA is just beginning its evening programme.
PATHE NEWS BEGINS and we date the event to April 1939.
Stories of imminent war jostle with images of Merrie England.
Village greens, sporting victories, Cruft's Dog Show.
Alone among the necking couples - mostly soldiers with their
Egyptian girlfriends - in an otherwise empty block, is
Katharine. She's waiting for Almásy. A SOLDIER comes over
to Katharine's row and settles a couple of seats away from
her.
SOLDIER
Beggin your pardon, miss, but have
you got a lighter?
Katharine lights his cigarette and returns to the screen. An
item about Fred Astaire and Ginger Rogers and TOP HAT. The
stars do their stuff. The soldier moves a seat nearer.
SOLDIER (CONT'D)
(leering)
I love Ginger, she's a foxy girl,
ain't she?
KATHARINE
Fuck off.
SOLDIER
What?
KATHARINE
You heard me.
The Soldier slinks off, muttering. Katharine is wretched.
She sits head down, not watching the screen, marooned in her
despair about duplicity, sordid assignations.
Almásy arrives, slides in beside Katharine, his shadow
momentarily large across the screen.
ALMÁSY
Sorry.
They watch the screen. Katharine is weeping. Almásy doesn't
understand. He puts his arm around her.
KATHARINE
I can't do this, I can't do this
any more.
EXT. GROPPI PARK. CAIRO. EVENING.
A man walks round with A HAND BELL - announcing that the Park
is closing. He turns off the gaslights which illuminate the
animal cages. Almásy and Katharine sit stiffly on a bench.
They don't speak. Almásy puts his hands to his head, he rubs
his shoulders. The lights are gradually being extinguished
around them.
Finally, Katharine gets up.
KATHARINE
I'd better get back.
(she keeps him away with a
hand)
Say goodbye here.
ALMÁSY
I'm not agreeing. Don't think I'm
agreeing, because I'm not.
They stand, awkward. Katharine rehearses her position. The
bell clangs.
KATHARINE
I just know - any minute he'll find
out, we'll barge into somebody
we'll - and it will ill him.
ALMÁSY
Don't go over it again, please.
He takes her hands, lays his cheeks into them, then releases
them, gets up, walks away. She walks towards the gate. He
calls after her.
ALMÁSY (CONT'D)
Katharine -
He walks towards her, his smile awful.
ALMÁSY (CONT'D)
I just wanted you to know. I'm not
missing you yet. She nods, can't
find this funny.
KATHARINE
You will. You will.
Then she turns sharply from him and catches her head against
the gatepost, staggers at the shock of it, then hurries away.
INT. THE PATIENT'S ROOM. MORNING.
Hana sits with the English Patient - the room shuttered
against the morning light. His breathing is noticeably
worsening, a shudder of a breath, the shallow rise and fall
of his chest perceptible. Hana frets, touches his wrist,
feeling for the pulse.
THE PATIENT
I'm still here.
HANA
You'd better be.
THE PATIENT
Don't depend on it. Will you? That
little bit of air, each day there's
less of it, which is al right,
which is quite all right.
She squeezes his hand, suddenly overwhelmed.
THE PATIENT (CONT'D)
(brightly)
I've been talking to Caravaggio -
my research assistant - there's
meant to be a ghost in the
Cloisters. I can join him!
There's some kind of noise from the garden. Muffled shouts.
THE PATIENT (CONT'D)
It's the boy.
Hana goes to the window, opens the shutters. The day pours
in.
EXT. MONASTERY OLIVE GROVES. DAY.
Hana sees Kip - barely visible - standing at the far
perimeter of the garden in the olive groves, HIS HANDS RAISED
ABOVE HIM, HIS LEG HELD OUT STRANGELY. WIRES run from his
foot in all directions as if he'd trodden in some elaborate
steel cobweb.
EXT. MONASTERY OLIVE GROVES. DAY.
Hana appears at the edge of the Olive groves and hurries
towards Kip, who hasn't moved. He shouts warning her.
KIP
Go to the left! Keep to the left!
There are mines and trip wires
everywhere!
Hana stops, hoists up her skirt and circles left, tentative
in the long grass. He shouts, doesn't want her close.
KIP (CONT'D)
Get Hardy. He's on the other side
of town. In the hills. Get him to
hurry.
She keeps coming, can see that he needs her.
HANA
It's okay - I'll help. Please.
KIP
The mines, the wires, there's a
trick. Some explode if you stretch
the wires, some if you cut them.
HANA
What do I do?
KIP
There's a mine here, but the others
are far enough away, I think at
least to give me a chance. I have
to work out which one to cut before
I fall over.
HANA
So I follow the wires?
KIP
You get Hardy.
HANA
I follow the wires.
She kneels at his feet and tries to trace the tangled route
of the web.
KIP
Don't touch them.
She follows one wire back to the closest mine, and traces
another back to Kip's foot. Then she finds another one
leading off to a second mine some thirty metres away.
HANA
Why would anyone do this?
KIP
I've done this. I've had to do
this.
Then Hana's suddenly tense.
HANA
Give me a second.
She turns and tiptoes RIGHT THROUGH THE DANGER AREA, straight
to what had seized her attention. Kip is appalled.
KIP
What are you doing?! Hana!
Heedless, she dodges another mine and its web of wires just
as THE TORTOISE clambers onto a clump of rock, which is, in
fact, ANOTHER CONCRETE-COVERED MINE.
Hana snatches him up as he ambles towards the metal. She
turns, holding the protesting animal in triumph. HER FOOT
SNAGS ON A WIRE. She has to ease it off, in arabesque, still
clutching the tortoise. She goes sideways to the safe zone -
setting down the animal. Then she's back with Kip. He's
seething. She is strangely elated.
KIP (CONT'D)
What is this business with you and
explosives? Do you think you're
immune?
HANA
I promise you that was the right
thing to do. He's my good luck.
(she gets the pliers from
his belt,
and hands them to him)
Now cut. This one.
(she indicates the wire)
I hope we don't die.
KIP
Okay. Get away from here. Quick.
HANA
I'm not scared. So many people
have died around me. But I would
be a shame for us.
(shrugs)
I don't feel like being shy.
KIP
You must get away. Before I cut.
I'm not cutting if you're here.
He's struggling. He's going to
topple over if he cuts.
HANA
Actually, you can't cut, can you?
You'll fall over. Give me the
pliers.
KIP
No. But he hands them over.
HANA
Kiss me. Before I cut. Just in
case.
KIP
Don't talk. Check again. Lie flat
and then cut.
Hana checks, lies down. He bends as close to the ground as
he dares AND KISSES HER, THEN SHE IMMEDIATELY CUTS.
INT. THE PATIENT'S ROOM. CONTINUOUS.
The Patient lies in bed. He's agitated by the silence.
SUDDENLY THERE'S AN EXPLOSION. He tries to shout, a croak
which quickly reduces him to coughing and breathlessness.
THE PATIENT
Hana! Hana! Kip! Hana! He tries
to move. He can't. He's frantic.
FOOTSTEPS, as someone hurtles up the stairs. It's Hana.
She's ashamed to have forgotten him. She rushes to him.
HANA
I'm sorry. I forgot you'd be
worrying. We're all safe. It was a
mine, but not the mine. Nobody's
hurt. I'm sorry.
She calms him. He's exhausted. His eyes shine.
EXT. MOUNTAIN ROAD. ITALY. LATE DAY.
Hana clings onto Kip as the TRIUMPH MOTORCYCLE hares along
the circling road. She has her arms around his waist. His
head turns to her for a second and she smiles.
EXT. ROAD BLOCK. TUSCANY. DUSK.
Kip and Hana have been detained at a ROAD BLOCK. Kip is
being questioned at a sentry post, his papers over-thoroughly
inspected and accompanied by several meaningful glances at
Hana, who waits, standing by the motorcycle. One of the
SOLDIERS saunters over and returns her papers.
SOLDIER
And you're definitely traveling
with him of your own free will?
HANA
Yes.
SOLDIER
(clearly disapproving)
Just wanting to be sure. And he's
taking you to church?
HANA
(deadpan)
Yes. We're going to a funeral. A
cow has died. And in his religion
they're sacred.
The Soldier isn't sure what to make of this. He signals to
his companion who returns Kip's papers.
Kip walks back to the motorcycles. He says nothing. He
kicks the starter. Hana gets on, slides her arms lovingly
around him.
EXT. BRIDGE. ITALY. DUSK.
IT'S GETTING DARK. The bike, headlights on, crosses a
bridge. Kip has strapped on his crimson emergency light as
they sail along the winding crest of mountain ridge that is a
spine down Italy.
EXT. AREZZO. DUSK.
Kip steers the motorbike into the deserted PIAZZA.
They dismount and Kip starts to unbuckle his bulging satchel
and unload the panniers. Hana still doesn't know what's in
store and looks questioningly at Kip as he walks up to the
door of the CHURCH.
INT. CHURCH. DUSK.
They enter the Church. It's in almost total darkness. THEN
A FLARE SUDDENLY ILLUMINATES THE INTERIOR. It's magnificent.
Kip holds the flare, crimson on one arm, green pouring up
from the other. Hana walks behind him, still perplexed.
There is PROTECTIVE SCAFFOLDING EVERYWHERE, AND SANDBAGS
PILED UP HIGH AROUND THE ALTARS, AND THE STATUES.
A SECOND FLARE. Kip has appeared through A SECRET DOOR high
in the church, literally emerging from one of the frescoes
which are momentarily visible. He flings a rope over the
rafters.
Now Kip circles Hana with the rope, MAKING A SLING across her
waist and shoulder. He lights a smaller flair and hands it
to her before disappearing.
Hana stands holding the flare. She can't see Kip, can only
hear him scrambling.
HANA
Kip?
He runs up the sandbags, right up into the rafters. He
collects the other end of the rope which is attached to Hana.
Holding onto it, he just STEPS OFF INTO THE DARKNESS.
SIMULTANEOUSLY HANA IS SWUNG UP INTO THE AIR, her startled
yelp echoing around the Church. Kip touches ground, while
Hana swings through space, coming to rest about three feet
from the FRESCOED WALLS, painted by Piero Della Francesca.
Hana's flare makes a halo around her head.
Now Kip, on the ground, still holding the rope, walks forward
and causes Hana to SWING to the right.
She lets out a giddy laugh, exhilarated and nervous, and she
flies, illuminating - en passant - faces, bodies, angels.
Kip guides the rope as if they were making love, which in a
way they are.
Hana arrives, hovering, in front of THE QUEEN OF SHEBA
TALKING TO SOLOMON. She's overwhelmed. She reaches out to
touch the giant neck of the sad Queen.
Kip slowly lets her down, paying out the length of the rope.
Hana's face is full of tears. He smiles, holds her.
INT. THE PATIENT'S ROOM. EVENING.
Caravaggio is with the Patient. He sits in the window.
Fiddles with the bandages of his hands.
THE PATIENT
There was a general who wore a
patch over a perfectly good eye.
The men fought harder for him.
Sometimes I think I could get up
and dance. What's under your
bandages?
Caravaggio goes to him, holding out his hands, the bandage
ends trailing.
CARAVAGGIO
Hold the ends.
The Patient holds them. Caravaggio walks backwards, the
bandages unraveling and unraveling.
INT. TOBRUK. BRITISH HEADQUARTERS. JUNE 1942. DAY.
Caravaggio, thumbs intact and wearing a crumpled linen suit,
walks through the mangled corridors of British HQ. Smoke is
rising from buildings, the ominous scream of Stuka dive
bombers in the distance as the harbor is pounded, the steady
thud of explosions. TOBRUK IS UNDER SIEGE. BHQ is a place
in the throws of dismantling itself. SECRETARIES are
visiting braziers manned by ARAB BOYS who stoke the fires as
boxes of papers are fed into them. ASHES hover in the air.
INT. BHQ. TOBRUK. DAY.
Caravaggio walks through a large room crowded with desks.
From one of them, a young woman, AICHA, kisses him, frowning
at the chaos and the shelling.
AICHA
He's waiting for you.
Some doors are open, revealing men and women in uniform
urgently SHREDDING DOCUMENTS.
Caravaggio knocks at an office whose door is ajar and where
the incumbent, FENELON-BARNES, is stripping the room of his
personal possessions- photographs, stone branches, a cricket
bat.
INT. FENELON-BARNES OFFICE. BHQ. TOBRUK. DAY.
Caravaggio enters.
FENELON-BARNES
(barely looking up)
What a bloody flap, eh? I heard
from Alexandria this morning -
apparently no-one there is
accepting British pounds. And if
you pick up a telephone everybody's
practicing their German.
(holds up some gramophone
records)
What do you do - do you take these
things?
(then, awkward)
Look, Moose, we need you to stay in
Tobruk. A bit of a short straw but
the thinking is we'll be back - I
mean, we will be back - but… and in
the interim we need eyes and ears
on the ground.
A BIG BOMB lands nearby. The building shudders and plaster
dust drops from the ceiling. Almost oblivious, the two men
head out of the office. Fenelon-Barnes lugs the TRUNK last
glimpsed in his tent by Almásy, until Caravaggio takes over.
INT. CORRIDOR OF BRITISH HEADQUARTERS. TOBRUK. DAY.
Fenelon-Barnes and Caravaggio make their way down the stairs
and to the entrance.
CARAVAGGIO
We have 30, 000 troops in Tobruk.
What are they going to be doing?
FENELON-BARNES
(continuing to pack)
Giving Rommel a bloody nose. That's
my suggestion. But did you hear
the BBC last nigh? Tobruk is of no
strategic importance - makes you
wonder. AICHA is at the bottom of
the stairs.
She falls into step.
FENELON-BARNES (CONT'D)
Jerry's got our maps you know.
Swines.
Before the war we helped them run
about the desert making maps - and
now they get spies into Cairo using
our maps, they'll get Rommel into
Cairo using our maps. The whole of
the desert like a bus route and we
gave it to them. Any foreigner
who turned up - welcome to the
Royal Geographic, take our maps.
Madox went mad, you know - you knew
Peter Madox? - after he found out
he'd been betrayed by his friend.
Absolutely destroyed the poor sod.
Shot himself in a church in Dorset.
Caravaggio opens the door, Fenelon-Barnes goes through.
EXT. BRITISH HEADQUARTERS. TOBRUK. DAY.
The Fenelon-Barnes trunk is taken from Caravaggio and joins
the pile of luggage and artifacts, which wait to be shipped
out.
FENELON-BARNES
I'd like to get that bastard Almásy
- settle the score, eh? That's my
fantasy - said he, clearing out.
Must have been a spy all along.
DELETED.
EXT. TOBRUK DOCKSIDE. DAY.
A GERMAN TROOP CARRIER rumbles forward passing a line of
BEDRAGGLED BRITISH POWS as they're marched along the side of
harbor.
EXT. TOBRUK RUINED QUARTER. DAY.
A HILL OF SALVAGED ARMY BOOTS is being explored by a couple
of GERMAN SOLDIERS in search of better footwear. Below them
the POWS trudge by, one of them barefoot. ONE OF THE GERMANS
tosses down a pair of boots then continues his own perusal.
EXT. TOBRUK SQUARE. DAY.
A crowd of Tobruk CIVILIANS - French and Italians among the
MOSTLY ARAB FACES. Their papers are being thoroughly checked
by officers sitting at open desks. IN A LINE, WEARING HIS
SHABBY SUIT, IS CARAVAGGIO. AN ARAB WOMAN in front of him is
arguing over the identity of her ominously CAUCASIAN-LOOKING
CHILD. An INTERPRETER mediates. The OFFICER doesn't believe
the woman. She's getting frantic at the possibility of
losing her child.
Suddenly there's a disturbance as a WOMAN is dragged along
the line by her hair.
She's bloodied, and has been tortured, and it's hard to
recognize her as the pretty AICHA. She touches a couple of
people in the line. They're horrified. Soldiers pull them
away. Caravaggio doesn't look, stares straight ahead. An
officer watches him AS HE TURNS BRIEFLY AND HELPLESSLY OUT OF
CONCERN FOR HER. THEIR EYES CATCH FOR AN INSTANT AND THE
OFFICER SEES IT.
CARAVAGGIO RUNS, bolts for cover, vaulting the rubble which
blocks one corner of the square. The CONGREGATION throws
itself to the ground until the square has only standing
soldiers and a running man.
EXT. TOBRUK. INTERIOR OF RUINED BUILDING. DAY.
Shots pursue Caravaggio as he disappears behind the rubble,
then bobs up again as he darts inside a blasted building. He
clambers up some ruined stairs, heaves over the wall.
EXT. TOBRUK. FACADE OF RUINED BUILDING. DAY.
CARAVAGGIO grabs a metal bar on the facade of the building,
from which he hangs, looking for the next foothold. Soldiers
appear along the top of the building, shouting, rifles ready.
AN OFFICER arrives and stops the soldiers firing, and the
others begin to laugh as Caravaggio hangs from the bar
fifteen feet above a balcony, slowly losing his strength.
Another SOLDIER waits for him in the balcony below. Now he
starts to laugh. Caravaggio hangs.
INT. INTERROGATION ROOM. TOBRUK. NOVEMBER 13,1942. DAY.
Caravaggio is slumped at a table, HIS HANDS MANACLED TO ITS
THICK WOODEN LEGS. There's A TELEPHONE at another table in
the corner of the room attended by a CLERK with A
STENOGRAPHER working next to him. The room has stone walls
which appear damp, and no windows. SOLDIERS stand guard at
the door. It's a horrible room. Caravaggio is trying to
sleep, he's unshaven, and pasty-looking. His interrogator,
Müller, seems incredibly tired and aggravated. He's on the
phone.
MÜLLER
(in German)
Yes, yes, yes, yes, yes.
He slams down the phone and comes back to the table.
MÜLLER (CONT'D)
David Caravaggio.
CARAVAGGIO
No.
MÜLLER
Petty thief, six months
imprisonment Kingston Penitentiary,
1937.
CARAVAGGIO
(barely with humor)
I keep explaining. You've got the
wrong man. My name is Bellini -
Antonio Bellini. Bellini,
Caravaggio, both painters, I think
that is confusing you.
Müller doesn't even pay attention, he's going through a file.
Pulls out some photographs, starts spreading them out.
MÜLLER
Is this you?
CARAVAGGIO
I don't know.
MÜLLER
It is you. This was taken in Cairo
at British Headquarters - July 41.
And so was this - August 41. And
this -February 42.
CARAVAGGIO
It's impossible. I was buying or
selling something. I've been to
Cairo many times.
MÜLLER
You are a Canadian spy working for
the Allies. Code-name Moose.
THE PHONE rings again, is answered. The Clerk calls to
Müller who gets up, irritably. Caravaggio addresses the
room.
CARAVAGGIO
Could I have a doctor? I am
passing blood. I must be bleeding
internally.
(to the clerk)
Can you get a doctor? Look -
(he spits onto the table,
there's blood in his
mouth)
I'm leaking blood.
(he indicates a Guard)
He kicks me. He kicks me all the
time.
Nobody responds. Müller is irascible on the phone, checking
his watch, negotiating time. The call finishes.
CLERK
(in German)
He's asking for a doctor.
MÜLLER
(to Caravaggio)
You want a doctor?
CARAVAGGIO
Yes, I've been asking for weeks, a
month, I don't know, also my leg
was -
MÜLLER
We don't have a doctor, but we do
have a nurse.
CARAVAGGIO
A nurse? Well, sure, a nurse is
great. A nurse? Great.
Müller nods at the Clerk, who instantly gets up. Just then
the telephone rings again. He hesitates.
MÜLLER
(in German)
Leave it and get the nurse!
The Clerk exits. The phone rings. The Stenographer is
plagued by flies. Suddenly he slaps at one.
MÜLLER (CONT'D)
(snapping)
Why is there so much nose? I can't
hear myself think!
(turns to Caravaggio)
Look - give me something. So we
can all get out of this room. A
name. A code.
(wiping his face)
It's too hot.
CARAVAGGIO
I slept with the girl. I've got a
wife in Tripoli. A girl comes up
and points at you, you only see
trouble.
The NURSE comes in. She is Arab and her head is covered.
MÜLLER
I'll tell you what I'm going to do.
This is your nurse, by the way.
She's Moslem, so she'll understand
all of this. What's the punishment
for adultery? Let's leave it at
that. You're married and you were
fucking another woman, so that's -
is it the hands that are cut off?
Or is that for stealing? Does
anyone know?
There's silence. Müller turns to Caravaggio.
MÜLLER (CONT'D)
Well, you must know. You were
brought up Libya, yes?
CARAVAGGIO
Don't cut me.
MÜLLER
Or was it Toronto?
CARAVAGGIO
(ashen)
Don't cut me. Come on.
Now the phone starts again. The CLERK picks it up, there's a
terse exchange, he puts the receiver on the desk, waits for
the moment to interrupt Müller.
MÜLLER
Ten fingers. How about this? You
give me a name for every finger -
doesn't matter who. I get
something, you keep something. I'm
trying to be reasonable. Fenelon
Barnes, we could call that two
names.
(pauses, suddenly puzzled)
Are thumbs fingers?
(in GERMAN to the others)
Is a thumb a finger?
No response. Müller opens his palms to Caravaggio.
MÜLLER (CONT'D)
I get no help from these people.
CLERK
(in German)
The telephone -
Müller walks over, takes the receiver and slams it down. an
AIR RAID SIREN is going off somewhere, and now the faint
sound of explosions is also discernible, but all muffled in
this room with the steady clack-clack of the STENOGRAPHER.
At that moment, Müller suddenly becomes aware of what is
happening. He turns on the Stenographer.
MÜLLER
(in German)
What are you doing?
STENOGRAPHER
(awkward, in German)
That Geneva Convention. I'm -
Müller peremptorily rips out the paper, throws it on the
floor.
CARAVAGGIO
You can't do that! Hey - come on!
DURING THIS Müller's gone to the table, pulled out a drawer
and produced A CUT-THROAT RAZOR. He hands it to the nurse,
makes a line across his own left thumb and jerks his head
towards Caravaggio. The nurse is extremely reluctant.
Müller claps his hands, pushes her towards Caravaggio.
MÜLLER
Go! Hey! Go! Caravaggio is in
terror.
CARAVAGGIO
Oh Jesus. Oh Jesus Christ.
The guards come away from the door and press down on
Caravaggio's shoulders to prevent him from moving. The
nurse, grim-faced, approaches, kneels at the table.
CARAVAGGIO (CONT'D)
(as she prepares to cut)
Listen, I'll give you a name. What
name did you say? I knew them! I
promise. Please - please!
And then he SCREAMS AND SCREAMS and jerks up, carrying the
guards and the table with him, all heaving off the ground,
the nurse thrown off balance. He falls to the floor, ROARING
WITH PAIN, blood everywhere, the table on top of him. The
AIR RAID is continuing outside, the PHONE IS RINGING, the
nurse stands, pale, blood all over her uniform.
MÜLLER
Cut the other thumb.
He stabs at his own right thumb.
MÜLLER (CONT'D)
This one! Come on!
The nurse, horrified, shakes her head. Müller snatches the
razor from her and heads towards the prostate Caravaggio.
One Guard has got to his feet and grips Caravaggio around the
neck in half-nelson, others holding his legs, while Müller
approaches. Caravaggio can't move. He's gurgling as the
Guard almost strangles him. His eyes are streaming with
tears.
Now Müller is at his other hand, and the ROAR of pain again
lifts Caravaggio to his feet, THE WHOLE TABLE RISING IN THE
AIR, his mutilated hands slipping from the handcuffs lie
Houdini, the drawers of the table SPILLING their contents
everywhere, before he sinks to his knees like a gored bull
and BLACKS OUT.
INT. INTERROGATION ROOM. TOBRUK. DAY.
LATER, and Caravaggio comes round. His eyes open and then
his face spasms with pain. He looks down at his ruined
hands, then realizes he's alone on the floor of the room, the
papers still scattered, the table on its side. He gets up
and staggers out of the open door and up the stairs.
INT. STAIRS FROM INTERROGATION ROOM. TOBRUK. DAY.
The corridor is deserted, but the body of a GERMAN SOLDIER
sprawls on the stairs leading up to daylight. Outside
Caravaggio can hear fighting.
EXT. ROOF. INTERROGATION BUILDING. DAY.
Caravaggio walks unsteadily along the roof of the building.
Grey and yellow gusts of smoke and the rat-ta-tat-tat of
machine gun fire accompany him, and there's the sound of
vehicles screeching and people shouting nearby, but no visual
clues as to what's happening.
SUDDENLY A PARACHUTE FLOATS DOWN BY HIM. THEN ANOTHER. THEN
ANOTHER. HE'S SURROUNDED BY PARACHUTES. THE BRITISH ARE
RECLAIMING TOBRUK. A PARATROOPER LANDS ON THE ROOF, AND
GESTURES TO CARAVAGGIO TO RAISE HIS HANDS. HE SLOWLY DOES
SO.
INT. THE PATIENT'S ROOM. NIGHT.
Caravaggio stands in front of the bed, holding up his NAKED
HANDS to the Patient, like a man surrendering - two flaps
like gills where his thumbs were. The Patient reaches out to
take his hands and gently lowers them. Caravaggio finds his
bandages, start to wrap them back round his fists.
CARAVAGGIO
The man who took my thumbs, I found
him eventually - he's dead. The
man who took my photograph, I found
him too - that took me a year.
He's dead.
Another man took that man across
the desert to Cairo. Now I intend
to find him.
The LIGHTS FROM THE MOTORBIKE approaching the Monastery, its
growl. Caravaggio goes to the window and watches as Kip and
Hana arrive.
INT. AMBASSADOR'S RESIDENCE. CAIRO, 1939. NIGHT.
Last seen at the Troops Christmas party, the INNER COURTYARD
has been transformed into an elegant outdoor banquet, with
band. The Almásy/Madox team is assembled for A FAREWELL
DINNER. They are waiting for Almásy to arrive, his seat
conspicuously empty. He is very late. And then he's there,
dangerous drunk, terribly dashing. He practically dances to
his chair, which he drags violently away from its position
opposite Katharine. He bows to Lady Hampton.
ALMÁSY
I believe I'm rather late.
MADOX
(ignoring the drama of
this entrance)
Good, we're all here? A toast, to
the International Sand club - may
it soon resurface.
THE OTHERS
The International Sand Club!
ALMÁSY
(raising his glass)
Misfits, buggers, fascists, and
paedophiles. God bless us every
one.
The others drink, trying to ignore his mood.
ALMÁSY (CONT'D)
Oops! Mustn't say International.
Dirty word. Filthy word. His
Majesty! Die Führer! Il Duce.
CLIFTON
Sorry, what's your point?
ALMÁSY
(ignoring the remark)
And the people here don't want us.
Are you kidding? The Egyptians are
desperate to get rid of the
Colonials…
(to an embarrassed Fouad)
- isn't that right?
Their best people get down on hands
and knees begging to be spared a
knighthood.
(to his host, Sir Hampton)
Isn't that right?
Ronnie Hampton shrugs. They're all very uncomfortable.
Almásy glares at Clifton.
ALMÁSY (CONT'D)
What's my point?
(standing up)
Oh! I've invented a new dance -
the Bosphorus Hug. Anybody up to
it? Madox? D'Ag? Come on
D'Aggers.
D'AGOSTINO
Let's eat first. Sit down.
The Band is now playing Manhattan - Almásy, without missing a
beat, begins to sing, replacing the words with alternatives
he knows. He lurches around. Katharine can't look at him.
ALMÁSY
…We'll bathe at Brighton, the fish
we'll frighten when we're in. your
bathing suit so thin will make the
shellfish grin, fin to fin. --
Those were the words - actually -
before they were cleaned up. Could
be a song for you, Mrs. Clifton -
(a perfect English accent)
- with your love of bathing.
Madox gets up and pulls Almásy into his chair, taking charge.
MADOX
Look, either shut up, or go home.
ALMÁSY
(darkly)
Absolutely right, shut up.
Lashings of apologies all round.
EXT. AMBASSADOR'S RESIDENCE. NIGHT.
Later, now MOST OF THE GROUP ARE DANCING. We see Katharine
dancing with Rupert Douglas, enjoying herself. Bermann is
there and even Madox jogging and grinning foolishly. Clifton
looks at Katharine who, as the dance ends, excuses herself to
go to the cloakroom. Almásy hovers in the shadows, unseen.
INT. AMBASSADOR'S RESIDENCE. NIGHT.
Katharine comes along the familiar warren of rooms and
corridors and is suddenly confronted by Almásy, tortured and
out of control.
ALMÁSY
Why did you hold his collar?
KATHARINE
What?
ALMÁSY
(mimicking her inflection)
What? What? That boy, that little
boy, you were holding his collar,
gripping his collar, what for?
KATHARINE
Would you let me pass?
ALMÁSY
Is he next? Do you drag him into
your little room? Where is it? Is
this it?
KATHARINE
Don't do this.
ALMÁSY
I've watched you - on verandahs, at
Garden Parties, at the Races - how
can you stand there? How can you
ever smile? As if your life hadn't
capsized?
KATHARINE
You know why? He tries to hold her.
She resists
ALMÁSY
Dance with me.
KATHARINE
No.
ALMÁSY
Dance with me. I want to touch
you. I want the things which are
mine. Which belong to me.
KATHARINE
Do you think you're the only one
who feels anything? Is that what
you think?
Some women, flushed with dancing, turn the corner on the way
to the Ladies Room. They collect Katharine in their train
and leave Almásy to fall back into the shadows.
INT. THE PATIENTS' ROOM. NIGHT.
Hana sits with the Patient. His eyes are full of tears. He
opens them, sees her, watching over him. He's embarrassed.
THE PATIENT
Why don't you go?
(wiping his eyes)
You should sleep.
HANA
Would you like me to?
He nods. She gets up, touches his hand, then leaves.
INT. THE MONASTERY, LANDING AND STAIRS. NIGHT.
Hana leaves the room, then turns and sees A TINY LAMP on the
floor, it's made from a SNAIL SHELL and oil. She bends to it
curiously, then sees a second lamp half-way down the stairs,
then a third further down. She smiles in the light, then
follows the trail.
EXT. THE MONASTERY CLOISTERS. NIGHT.
In the Cloisters THE TRAIL OF SHELL LAMPS CONTINUES, like
tiny cat's eyes. As they reach the hopscotch chalk marks,
they outline the squares. Hana HOPSCOTCHES and then follows
the light, disappearing round a corner.
INT. THE MONASTERY STABLES. NIGHT.
Hana comes through into the stables. The lamps lead her,
then they stop. She peers into the shadows.
KIP (O/S)
Hana.
She turns to the voice. He steps out of the darkness.
HANA
(happy )
Kip. And he goes to her.
EXT. THE MONASTERY STABLES. EARLY MORNING.
Hardy knocks cautiously on the door of the stables.
Eventually Hana opens the door.
HARDY
I was looking for the Lieutenant
Singh.
HANA
He's sleeping.
HARDY
Only we have to go to work.
HANA
I'll tell him. What is it? Is it
a mine?
HARDY
A bomb. At the Viaduct. She closes
the door, then reappears.
HANA
Does he have to go?
HARDY
Pardon me?
HANA
What if you couldn't find him…?
(Hardy's bewildered)
Sergeant, not today, please. Not
this morning.
Kip comes to the door, winding his turban.
KIP
What's happening? Am I needed?
HARDY
I'm afraid so, sir. Kip hurries to
his tent. Hana follows him.
HANA
Don't go. I'm frightened. I can
love a coward, I can't love another
dead man.
KIP
This is what I do. I do this every
day.
And he's ready, Hardy having wheeled out their motorcycles.
He gets on his, and they're away, Hana hardly able to look.
EXT. A VIADUCT NORTH OF THE MONASTERY. DAY.
KIP IS LOWERED BY A PULLEY INTO THE SHAFT THE SAPPERS HAVE
MADE AROUND THE BOMB. Hardy supervises. The bombs huge - 2,
000 lbs, and protrudes ostrich-like from the pit, its nose
sunk into a pool of sludge at the base of the viaduct.
Kip steps off and sinks knee deep in mud, grunting in
disgust.
Warily, he touches his huge opponent, feeling the condition
of the case. He wipes the metal. Reveals a serial number,
calls it out to Hardy, who's perched on the bank.
KIP
Serial number - KK-1P2600.
He's hypnotized by the number: KK-1P: a bomb with his name on
it.
EXT. ROAD APPROACHING VIADUCT. DAY.
Hana cycles along on Caravaggio's bicycle. A TANK comes
roaring up behind her, then a second and a third, loaded up
with people, citizens and soldiers, and children, waving
flags and gesticulating. She lets the metal circus go by.
INT. BOMB SHAFT. DAY.
Back in the shaft, Kip works away, his fingers shaking with
the cold from the oxygen he's using to freeze the fuse.
Suddenly there's a VIOLENT TREMOR. The ground is SHUDDERING,
and the bomb slips horribly. Kip GRABS AT IT helplessly as
if trying to stop a man from falling, instead it falls on him
pushing him into the sludge.
KIP
Hardy! Hardy! What's happening?!
EXT. VIADUCT. DAY.
The TANKS are rumbling towards the Viaduct. HORNS start
sounding. HARDY, below, bellows at his men above for
explanation.
HARDY
Corporal!? Dade!!
DADE
Tanks, sir. Don't know what it's
about. God only knows.
HARDY
(incredulous)
What is this - a bloody carnival?
Stop them!
Three Sappers run across the bridge towards the oncoming
procession. They wave their orange flags, the tanks wave
back wit their flags - Stars and Stripes, Union Jacks. Now
SHOTS are ringing out. In the shaft, oblivious, Kip slides
out from under the bomb, the oxygen spurting everywhere, all
over his clothes, hissing on the surface of the water. Hardy
bends into the shaft, heedless of his own safety.
HARDY (CONT'D)
You've got to cut, sir, that frost
won't last.
KIP
Go away.
HARDY
Yessir.
KIP
This is making me incredibly angry.
He rubs his hands to warm them up, locates his needle pliers
and slips them through the tiny gap. His hand touches the
casing and the freeze BURNS his hand. He jerks back,
DROPPING THE PLIERS into the sludge, cursing.
Now he's on his hands and knees in the sludge, trying
frantically to find the pliers. Hardy looks at his watch, he
can't help. The seconds run out as Kip grovels in the mud.
Totally submerged, he suddenly comes out with the pliers,
goes straight to the fuse, no finesse, and cuts. There's a
snip. Then nothing. Then Kip laughs at Hardy.
KIP (CONT'D)
Kiss me.
Hardy is already at the winch, hauling it up. Kip can hardly
clip on the halter - his hands numb and burned. As the
pulley jerks he just clings on, rising from the grip of the
mud like an ancient corpse out of a bog.
The other sappers have gathered around the edge of the site.
Great elation on their faces.
HARDY
Get a blanket!
(not getting attention)
Dade! Get the Lieutenant a
blanket.
DADE
It's over, Sarge. It's over.
Jerry's surrendered.
(to Kip)
Sir, congratulations! Kip shakes
his hand.
Kip shakes Hardy's hand.
KIP
Congratulations.
And now they're all shaking hands, and slapping backs and the
SOLDIERS FROM THE TANKS are there and the victory
celebrations begin. Kip's blank, drained, not taking
anything in, as Dade wraps a blanket around his shoulders.
HANA'S ON TOP OF THE VIADUCT, watching as Kip is wrapped in
his blanket, the men celebrating. She shouts with relief
from the top of the bridge.
HANA
Kip!
INT. THE PATIENT'S ROOM. NIGHT.
A VICTORY CELEBRATION PARTY.
The gramophone plays Frank Sinatra. Kip sits in the window,
the shutters open, the village lit up behind his head,
nodding to the music, sucking out of his condensed milk.
Elsewhere there is an open bottle of cognac, some wine. The
Patient has a beaker of wine. Caravaggio is dancing with
Hana.
HANA
Kip - come and dance with me
KIP
(a sly wobble of the head)
Yes. Later.
Caravaggio swirls past the Patient - nodding at the cognac.
CARAVAGGIO
Have a drink.
THE PATIENT
I've had a drink. Fatal.
CARAVAGGIO
Well, anything you do is likely to
be fatal, so you know -
THE PATIENT
Very true!
EXT. VILLAGE SQUARE. NIGHT.
A tiny PIAZZA where the Sappers and the Villagers are having
their own, more raucous, Victory Feste. There are
accordions, there's dancing, and there's HARDY, stripped to
some exotic underpants, a large tattoo: DORIS inside a heart,
clambering up the EQUESTRIAN STATUE IN THE MIDDLE OF THE
FOUNTAIN. He's astride the horse and now straining to get up
to the tip of the outstretched sword, so that he can hang the
UNION JACK FLAG he has in his mouth.
BLACKLER, one of the Sappers, is Hardy's assistant. He's
drunk and slips from his ladder, falling flat on his back
into the fountain with a great splash, to much hilarity.
INT. THE PATIENT'S ROOM. NIGHT.
Hana and Caravaggio are still dancing. The music has
stopped. Caravaggio changes the record. Hana goes to Kip
for a second, beaming, before Caravaggio has snatched her
away again. The Patient taps along to the music.
THE PATIENT
Who knows the Bosphorus Hug?
HANA
Never heard of it.
THE PATIENT
That was a dance we invented at the
International Sand Club.
CARAVAGGIO
(cryptic)
What? You and Madox? Or you and
Katharine Clifton?
THE PATIENT
(a small laugh)
What?
There's a muddled thud in the distance, Kip's ears prick up.
He glances for an instant out of the window.
HANA
(anxious, of the noise)
What was that?
She is spinning with Caravaggio. When she comes round again,
Kip has gone.
EXT. VILLAGE SQUARE. ITALY 1945. NIGHT.
Kip's motorbike skids into the tiny PIAZZA.
A MILITARY AMBULANCE IS ALREADY THERE. Dade and SPALDING are
presiding as the paramedics take two bodies into the rear of
the truck. The shattered fountain, the sluiced flagstones,
shining wet and slick, give some clues as to what's happened,
as do the elderly standing in the shadows, the distressed
girls, arm in arm. ONE GIRL, young and quite striking, is
particularly inconsolable, her grief sobbed out at the doors
of the ambulance.
SPALDING salutes Kip, who waves his salute away, just wanting
to know what happened.
SPALDING
Booby trap. They was running up
the Union Jack, sir, up off that
statue - It just went off.
DADE
Should have been me. It was my
idea but Sergeant Hardy climbed up,
sir, him and Blackler.
Kip goes to the ambulance. Spalding tries to stop him.
SPALDING
Sir - you don't want to look.
Kip steps into the back of the ambulance, bends over both
bodies, does look, then comes out, past the weeping girl.
KIP
Who's that girl?
DADE
His fiancee, sir.
KIP
(astonished)
Hardy's?
DADE
Kept it a bit dark.
EXT. THE MONASTERY. APPROACHING DAWN.
Kip has pulled out all of Hardy's gear. Now he starts on the
tent. Hana comes out into the step. Kip turns, his eyes
brimming, sees her, sighs, then turns back and kicks at the
pegs, collapsing the tent.
Now he's trying to fold a shirt. Hana takes it from him.
She folds it. Then together they start to fold the tent, Kip
orchestrating, not wanting to talk. Finally, Kip looks at
Hana, stiff with emotion.
KIP
I was thinking yesterday -
yesterday! - the Patient, Hardy:
they're everything that's good
about England. I couldn't even say
what that was. We didn't exchange
two personal words, and we've been
together through some terrible
things, some -
(incredulous)
he was engaged to a girl in the
village! - I mean -
(looks at Hana)
and us - he never once… He didn't
ask me if I could spin the ball at
cricket or the kamasutra or - I
don't even know what I'm talking
about.
HANA
You loved him.
INT. THE PATIENT'S ROOM. EVENING.
Caravaggio, reading Dante aloud in Italian, smoking, walks
over to the window, looks out.
EXT. KIP'S TENT. EVENING.
Hana is approaching Kip's tent, carrying a light. She ducks
inside the tent and the light disappears.
INT. THE PATIENT'S ROOM. EVENING.
Caravaggio turns back into the room, towards the Patient,
still reading.
INT. KIP'S TENT. NIGHT.
Hana lies over Kip, unraveling his turban, slowly, sensual.
HANA
If one night I didn't come to the
tent, what would you do?
KIP
I try not to expect you.
HANA
But if it got late and I hadn't
shown up?
KIP
Then I'd think there must be a
reason.
HANA
You wouldn't come to find me?
(Kip shrugs)
That makes me never want to come
here. But she continues unraveling
the turban.
HANA (CONT'D)
Then I tell myself he spends all
day searching, in the night he
wants to be found.
EXT. BASECAMP AT THE CAVE OF SWIMMERS. 1939. DAY.
The Expedition Team is packing up the Basecamp. Madox and
Almásy are loading things into the plane. FOUAD, AL AUF and
others work at the cars.
MADOX
Had a letter from my wife. The
wisteria is still out, which I'm
looking forward to. She says
Dorset is gripped with Invasion
Fever. Wrong coast I should have
thought, still…
ALMÁSY
Right.
MADOX
Bermann thinks he'll be interned,
poor fellow. I'm going to do what
I can, but… And D'Ag turns out to
be a great admirer of Mussolini. So
now you can say I told you so.
ALMÁSY
I told you so.
MADOX
We didn't care about countries. Did
we? Brits, Arabs, Hungarians,
Germans. None of that mattered,
did it? It was something finer
than that.
ALMÁSY
Yes. It was. Thanks for the
compass. I'll look after it for
you.
MADOX
(shrugging this off)
When's Clifton picking you up?
ALMÁSY
Tomorrow afternoon. Don't worry.
I'll be ready.
MADOX
I'll leave the plane in the hangar
at Kufra Oasis. So if you need
it…hard to know how long one's
talking about. We might all be
back in a month or two.
Madox kneels and takes A HANDFUL OF SAND, puts it into his
pocket. He throws his haversack into the plane then turns.
Almásy puts out a hand. This is a moment of great emotional
weight for them both, conducted as if nothing were happening.
MADOX (CONT'D)
I have to teach myself not to read
too much into everything. Comes of
too long having to read so much
into hardly anything at all.
ALMÁSY
Goodbye, my friend. They shake
hands.
MADOX
May God make safety your companion.
ALMÁSY
(a tradition)
There is no God.
(smiles)
But I hope someone looks after you.
Madox clambers into his plane, then remembers something, jabs
at his throat.
MADOX
In case you're still wondering -
this is called the supasternal
notch.
Almásy nods, goes to the propeller.
MADOX (CONT'D)
Come and visit us in Dorset. When
all this nonsense is over.
(then shrugs)
You'll never come to Dorset.
The plane roars into life. Almásy watches it taxi away -
then heads back to continue with his packing up.
INT. THE PATIENT'S ROOM. NIGHT.
MADOX SHOOTS HIMSELF BEHIND THE ALTAR IN THE ROOM. The
Patient's stertorous breathing, each intake accompanied by a
small noise, a note, suddenly stops. Then steadies again.
He appears to be alone.
EXT. GARDEN. NIGHT.
Kip is in the tent, looking out of the flap, waiting for
Hana.
INT. THE MONASTERY KITCHEN. NIGHT.
Kip walks in looking for Hana.
INT. THE PATIENT'S ROOM. NIGHT.
Kip enters, sees Hana is not with the Patient, hears his
uneven breathing, then goes out. From the shadows of the
room, CARAVAGGIO shifts position. He's slumped on the
floor, staring at the man prone in the bed.
INT. HANA'S ROOM. NIGHT.
Into her bedroom, Kip can't find her there either. He turns
to go, walking down the wooden stairs, until her voice stops
him in his tracks. She's in the shadows of the eaves.
HANA
Sometimes I need you to find me.
INT. THE PATIENT'S ROOM. NIGHT.
The Patient's eyes open to see Caravaggio at the morphine.
THE PATIENT
Hana tells me you're leaving.
CARAVAGGIO
(preparing the injection)
There are going to be trials, they
want me to interpret, don't they
know I'm allergic to courtrooms?
THE PATIENT
We shall miss you.
He delivers the injection. The Patient sighs. Caravaggio
takes off his jacket. A pistol is stuck in his waistband.
The Patient sees it.
CARAVAGGIO
So, I come across the Hospital
Convoy
(holds up the syringe)
I was looking for this stuff, and
some nurse, Mary, Hana's friend,
tells me about you and Hana, hiding
in a monastery, in purdah, whatever
it is - retreat -
(he administers his own
injection,
using his teeth grip the
sleeve)
how you'd come in from the Desert
and you were burned and you didn't
know your name but you knew the
words to every song there was and
you had one possession -
(picks it up)
- a copy of Herodotus - and it was
full of letters and cuttings, and
then I knew it must be you.
THE PATIENT
Me?
CARAVAGGIO
I'd seen you writing in that book.
At the Embassy in Cairo, when I had
thumbs and you had a face. And a
name.
THE PATIENT
I see.
CARAVAGGIO
Before you went over to the
Germans, before you got Rommel's
spy across the desert and inside
British headquarters. He took some
pretty good photographs - I saw
mine in that torture room in
Tobruk, so they made an impression.
THE PATIENT
And you thought you'd come and
settle the score?
CARAVAGGIO
You were the only man who knew the
desert well enough, the only man
who would cross seventeen hundred
miles of nothing.
THE PATIENT
I had to get back to the desert. I
made a promise. The rest meant
nothing to me.
CARAVAGGIO
What did you say?
THE PATIENT
The rest meant nothing to me.
CARAVAGGIO
There was a result to what you did.
It wasn't just another expedition.
(holds up hands)
It did this. If the British hadn't
unearthed your nosey photographer
in Cairo thousands of people could
have died.
THE PATIENT
Thousands of people did die, just
different people.
CARAVAGGIO
But you were among the British,
they were your friends - why betray
them?
THE PATIENT
(a bitter laugh)
Is that what you thought? That I
betrayed the British? The British
betrayed me. The British betrayed
me.
EXT. BASECAMP AT CAVE OF SWIMMERS. 1939. DAY.
Almásy sits on a ridge transferring map of information from
his Herodotus onto a sheet of paper. He looks up at the
sound of Clifton's approaching Steerman. He folds up the map
and sticks it inside one of Clifton's CHAMPAGNE BOTTLES and
lodges it between the rocks.
INT. STEERMAN. DAY.
Clifton is flying the STEERMAN up to Gilf Kebir. From the
air it's possible to make out Almásy scrambling down from the
ridge towards where the stones indicate a landing area,
carrying the last of the materials from the Cave of Swimmers.
Almásy waves in recognition and welcome.
EXT. BASECAMP AT THE CAVE OF SWIMMERS. DAY.
Almásy watches as the plane drops towards him, shielding his
eyes against the sun. the plane bounces along the runway,
not quite landing. Almásy continues packing the equipment.
Almásy looks up to see the plane swerve, now suddenly HEADING
STRAIGHT TOWARDS HIM. He's completely vulnerable, nowhere to
run. He dives at the ground. THE PLANE SMASHES AGAINST AN
INVISIBLE RIDGE AND TURNS OVER AND OVER, the wings snapping
off like twigs as it hurtles past the prostrate Almásy. He
gets to his feet and starts to run towards the wreckage.
A blue line of smoke is uncoiling from the plane, but no
fire. Almásy pulls away the debris to find GEOFFREY -
SLUMPED, NECK BROKEN, BLOODY. He tries to move him, and in
the process reveals, to his ABSOLUTE horror, KATHARINE,
STARING GRIMLY AHEAD, UNABLE TO MOVE. He's frantic.
ALMÁSY
Katharine! Oh dear God, Katharine -
what are you doing here?
KATHARINE
(eyes rolling, an
incredible weariness)
I can't move. I can't get out.
Almásy starts to pull at the wreck around her.
DURING THIS -
ALMÁSY
Why did he bring you?
KATHARINE
A surprise, he said.
Almásy inspects Clifton, tries to find a pulse. The smoke
circles around them. Katharine looks at her husband.
KATHARINE (CONT'D)
Poor Geoffrey. He knew. He must
have known all the time. He was
shouting - I love you, Katharine, I
love you so much. Is he badly
hurt?
His neck is odd.
Almásy puts his arm around Katharine to try and pull her
clear. She can't stand the pain.
KATHARINE (CONT'D)
Please don't move me. It hurts too
much.
ALMÁSY
We've got to get you out of here.
KATHARINE
It hurts too much.
ALMÁSY
(can't bear to hurt her)
I know, darling, I'm sorry.
The smoke thickens. He pulls - hard - the pain from which
causes Katharine to gasp, then pass out. They slip
haphazardly to the ground, cushioned a little by the sand.
He lifts her gently into his arms and carries her from the
danger of the place, then turns and runs back. THE PLANE
SUDDENLY ERUPTS IN FLAMES. Almásy dashes into the fire,
disappearing into the smoke before emerging with Clifton over
his shoulder, fireman's-lift style.
EXT. THE CAVE OF SWIMMERS. DAY.
He has WRAPPED KATHARINE IN THE SILK FOLDS OF HER PARACHUTE
and emerges from the near the familiar cleft in the rock,
struggling with the exertion of the climb as they approach
the Cave of Swimmers. He has a large water bottle slung
around his neck and a haversack, and is loaded like a pack
horse. Katharine opens her eyes.
KATHARINE
(whispering)
Why did you hate me?
ALMÁSY
What?
KATHARINE
Don't you know you drove everybody
mad?
ALMÁSY
Don't talk.
KATHARINE
(gasping)
You speak so many bloody languages
and you never want to talk.
They stagger on. He suddenly notices a stain of gold at her
neck. It's saffron, leaking from a silver THIMBLE which
hangs from a black ribbon.
ALMÁSY
(overwhelmed)
You're wearing the thimble.
KATHARINE
Of course. You idiot. I always
wear it. I've always worn it. I've
always loved you.
Almásy CRIES as he walks - huge sobs, no words - convulsed
with the pain of it. They approach the Cave.
INT. CAVE OF SWIMMERS. DAY.
Almásy comes through in shadows, carrying Katharine, blocking
out the light that pours into the entrance of the cave. Once
inside, he sets her down incredibly gently, makes a bed of
blankets and the parachute. He turns on his flashlight.
KATHARINE
It's so cold.
ALMÁSY
I know. I'm sorry. I'll make a
fire. I'll be back.
KATHARINE
(panicking suddenly)
Don't leave me!
ALMÁSY
I'm just going to find things for
the fire.
INT. CAVE OF SWIMMERS. TORCHLIGHT.
Almásy returns with the stocks of ACACIA TWIGS the Expedition
had cached. As he makes the fire, the light sends his shadow
flitting across the walls.
KATHARINE
Shall we be all right?
ALMÁSY
Yes. Absolutely.
KATHARINE
(with a laugh)
Oh dear.
ALMÁSY
(as he works)
Listen to me, Katharine. You've
broken your ankle and I'm going to
have to try and bind it. I think
your wrist might be broken, too -
and some ribs, which is why it's
hurting you to breathe. I'm going
to have to walk to El Taj. Given
all the traffic in the desert these
days I should bump into one army or
another before I reach there - or
Fenelon-Barnes and his camel. And
then I'll be back and we'll be
fine, and I'll never leave you.
The fire is lit and he comes over to her, kneels beside her.
KATHARINE
Do you promise? I wouldn't want to
die here. I wouldn't want to die
in the desert. I've always had a
rather elaborate funeral in mind,
with particular hymns. Very
English. And I know exactly where
I want to be buried. In our
garden. Where I grew up.
With a view of the sea. So promise
me you'll come back for you.
ALMÁSY
I promise I'll come back. I
promise I'll never leave you. And
there's plenty of water and food.
You can have a party.
He kisses her tenderly. Pulls out his HERODOTUS and lays it
beside her. Then he puts down the FLASHLIGHT.
ALMÁSY (CONT'D)
And a good read.
(of the flashlight
battery)
Don't waste it.
KATHARINE
Thank you.
(clouds over)
Will you bury Geoffrey? I know
he's dead.
ALMÁSY
I'm sorry, Katharine.
KATHARINE
I know.
ALMÁSY
Every night I cut out my heart but
in the morning it was full again.
He's tearing strips from the parachute with his knife. As he
starts to bind her wrist he gets her to talk, trying to
distract her from the pain.
ALMÁSY (CONT'D)
Tell me about your garden.
KATHARINE
(tries to focus)
Our Garden, our garden - not so
much the garden, but the copse
alongside it, wild, a secret way
plunging down to the shore and then
nothing but water between you and
France. The Devil's Chimney it was
called -
(he pulls tight on the
binding)
The Devil's Chimney, I don't know
why.
(he kisses her)
Darling. My darling.
EXT. THE DESERT. DUSK.
ALMÁSY BURYING CLIFTON. He's dug a narrow trench, and now he
goes to the body. Clifton's face is oil stained, bloody.
Almásy takes his handkerchief and, pouring his precious water
into it, CLEANS GEOFFREY'S FACE.
THE PATIENT'S (O/S)
Seventy miles, north - north west.
I had Madox's compass. A man can
walk in the desert as fast as a
camel. That's about two and a half
miles an hour.
EXT. THE DESERT. NIGHT.
Alamos's walking. He slides and collapses as he misjudges a
dune, gets up, stumbles on.
THE PATIENT (O/S)
I stopped at noon and at twilight.
Three days there, I told her, then
three hours back by jeep. Don't go
anywhere. I'll be back.
EXT. THE DESERT. DAWN.
He trudges on, his eyes opening and closing. He's singing to
keep awake. Darktown Strutter's Ball. - I'll be down to get
you in the taxi, honey… He does a little shuffle. Looks
behind at the crazy trail of his footprints.
EXT. THE CHOTT. DAWN.
A vast flat expanse of dried salt lake. A remorseless
horizon. Almasy walks, checking the compass, squinting at
the sun. then he sees a cloud of dust traveling across the
horizon. It comes closer moving at great speed, reveals
itself. An OSTRICH.
EXT. WELL. DAY.
Almásy lowers himself by an old rope down into a gully. He
approaches a pile of stones and removes them to reveal a
brackish pool of filthy water. He drinks, pouring water over
his head, grimacing at the taste, but parched too.
EXT. APPROACHING EL TAJ. DAY.
Almásy gets his first sight of the fortress town of EL TAJ
and sinks to his knees, in relief and exhaustion. Then he
gets up and trudges towards the town. A CORPORAL with a
rifle in his hands appears.
INT. EL TAJ. DAY.
The Corporal brings Almásy into a square. A young OFFICER
appears from the shadows of his office. His JEEP is parked
in the shade.
OFFICER
Good morning!
ALMÁSY
Could I trouble you for some water?
OFFICER
(registering the accented
English)
Yes, of course.
(the Corporal has a water
bottle,
hands it to Almásy)
So, golly, where have you come
from?
ALMÁSY
(gulping the water)
I desperately need a jeep. There's
been an accident.
OFFICER
I see.
ALMÁSY
(brain racing)
No, I'm not thinking clearly - I
need a doctor too, to come with me,
can I take this vehicle? I'll pay,
of course - and some morphine and…
(calculating)
Seventy miles - I can be back here
by dusk.
OFFICER
Do you have your papers, sir?
ALMÁSY
What?
OFFICER
If I could just see some
identification.
ALMÁSY
Am I not talking sense? - forgive
me, I'm, I've been walking, I've -
there's a woman badly injured at
Gilf Kebir, in the Cave of
Swimmers. I am a member of the
Royal Geographical Society.
OFFICER
Right. And what's your name, sir?
ALMÁSY
Count Laszlo de Almásy. The Officer
is writing this down. A glance at
his Corporal.
OFFICER
Almásy - would you mind just
spelling that for me? What
nationality would that be?
ALMÁSY
Look, listen to me. A woman is
dying - my wife! - is dying seventy
miles from here. I have been
walking for three days! I don't
want to spell my name, I want you
to give me this jeep!
OFFICER
(writing)
I understand you are agitated -
perhaps you would like to sit down
while I radio back to HQ -
ALMÁSY
(snapping)
No! NO! Don't radio anybody, just
give me the fucking jeep!
Almásy sets on the Officer, hauling him by the lapels, but
them immediately loses his balance. As he stumbles up he
gets the stock of the Corporal's RIFLE across his head,
KNOCKING HIM TO THE GROUND.
EXT. EL TAJ STREET. DAY.
Almásy, head pounding, is in the back of the jeep, chained to
the tailgate. He's desperate. The Corporal is driving.
ALMÁSY
(shouting hoarse)
Hey! Hey! Stop this jeep! Let me
out of here - there's a woman
dying, there's a woman dying while
I'm - Hey!
CORPORAL
Shut-up!
ALMÁSY
Please - I beg you, I beg you, I
beg you, please listen to me, this
is a terrible mistake.
Just stop, please, and listen to
me. My wife is dying.
CORPORAL
Listen, Fritz, if I have to listen
to another word from you I'll give
you a fucking good hiding.
ALMÁSY
Fritz? What are you talking about?
Who's Fritz?
CORPORAL
That's your name innit? Count
Fucking Arsehole Von Bismarck?
What's that supposed to be then,
Irish?
Almásy, berserk, starts to yank at his chains, screaming.
ALMÁSY
Let me out, let me out, let me out -
Katharine! Katharine!
INT. CAVE OF SWIMMERS. TORCHLIGHT.
Katharine has been writing in the Herodotus. The torchlight
FLICKERS. She shakes the torch. It FLICKERS again. Then
goes out. Absolute BLACKNESS. The sound of her trembling
breath.
EXT. A TRAIN. THE DESERT. DUSK.
A TRAIN scuttles through the desert.
INT. THE TRAIN. THE DESERT. DUSK.
Almásy is HANDCUFFED to the metal grille of the goods
compartment. He's lying down amongst a bunch of other
prisoners and their little bundles of possessions in this
makeshift cell - some Arabs, some Italians.
A SERGEANT pushes a lavatory-bound prisoner along the
corridor, leaving behind A YOUNG PRIVATE who sits on a
packing case, with a rifle across his lap, reading a Penguin
edition of Gulliver's Travels. Almásy is in complete despair
to be on the train. He tries to move, but he's locked tight
to the grille. He rattles the cuffs against the metal.
ALMÁSY
Excuse me.
(the Soldier looks up)
I also need to use the lavatory.
SOLDIER
You'll have to wait.
(calls up the corridor)
Sarge! Jerry wants to use the lav -
says it's urgent.
ALMÁSY
Where are we going, please?
SOLDIER
To the coast. Benghazi. Soon be
there. Get a boat home. You'll be
all right.
ALMÁSY CAN'T BEAR THIS NEWS. The SERGEANT returns.
SERGEANT
What's up?
ALMÁSY
Cramps. It's urgent.
SERGEANT
Go on then - you take him.
INT. THE TRAIN CORRIDOR. THE DESERT. DAY.
The Soldier pushes Almásy along the corridor. They arrive
outside the lavatory. The Soldier is distracted for a split
second. Enough for Almásy to ELBOW HIM savagely in the
stomach, winding him, then he KICKS HIM REPEATEDLY in the
head. He wraps his cuffs around the Soldier's neck and -
yanking them together and twisting - produces a tiny,
efficient and sickening snap.
He finds the KEY to the handcuffs, unlocks them, grabs the
soldier and drags him into the empty lavatory.
INT. TRAIN. THE DESERT. EVENING.
Almásy arrives at the rear of the train, passes the Kitchen
carriage, where Arabs sweat over the boiler. He pulls open
the back door only to surprise a GUARD, who's lolling
casually, enjoying the sunset. Almásy SHOOTS HIM with his
stole rifle. He clambers over the guard rail and leaps off
the train - tumbling into the desert sunset.
EXT. RAILWAY TRACK. THE DESERT. EVENING.
Almásy, silhouetted against the evening sky, walks back down
the track, THREE HUNDRED MILES AWAY from the dying Katharine
Clifton, no way now of saving her. He is a tiny speck in the
vast desert. His heart broken. He sinks to his knees in
despair.
INT. THE PATIENT'S ROOM. NIGHT.
The Patient is exhausted. He has said aloud what has
tortured him. His failure to save Katharine. He looks at
Caravaggio.
THE PATIENT
So yes. She died because of me.
Because I loved her. Because I had
the wrong name.
INT. THE MONASTERY STABLES. DAY.
Kip is working at a BLACKSMITH'S FORGE in the Stables. He is
heating pieces of metal. He has arranged his material on a
bench - a bayonet, a rifle, a piece of bomb casting.
Hana enters, goes up, hugs him from behind.
HANA
What are you up to?
KIP
That gun at Lahor, Kipling's cannon
- Zamzammah - remember? That was
made out of the metal of ordinary
things. I want to make an ordinary
thing out of guns. His bayonet is
thrust into the forge. It's red
hot.
KIP (CONT'D)
When I went to England I was amazed
at what went on, the waste - I'd
been taught to re-use everything,
the dung from a cow to cool a
radiator, a fork to fix a
typewriter - India could live for a
hundred years on what I saw thrown
away.
HANA
I should go to the house, get
breakfast.
KIP
The lamp was burning all night in
his room. Caravaggio was there
with him.
She goes to kiss him. He is over the fire and protests.
KIP (CONT'D)
This is hot!
HANA
(teasing him)
Nya-nya-nya!
INT. THE PATIENT'S ROOM. DAY.
Caravagio is injecting the Patient with morphine.
CARAVAGGIO
And did you never see Katharine?
You never got back to the Cave?
THE PATIENT
Yes, I got back there finally to
keep my promise. To come back for
her. And then of course I couldn't…
I couldn't even do that properly.
INT. THE MONASTERY STABLES. DAY.
Kip hammers the metal into its new shape. He stops,
distracted by something he's listening to on his crystal set.
It's new he seems not to fully understand, about a bomb
dropping on Japan. A NEW KIND OF BOMB.
THE METAL GLOWS A VIVID RED ON THE ANVIL.
Suddenly Kip slops it into the trough of water, sending a
great hissing column of steam.
INT. THE PATIENT'S ROOM. DAY.
Caravaggio sits by the Patient.
CARAVAGGIO
You get to the morning and the
poison leaks away, doesn't it?
Black nights, fucking black nights,
when you want to howl like a dog. I
thought I would kill you. You
killed my friends, you ruined my
hands. But the girl was always
here, like some Guardian Angel.
THE PATIENT
You can't kill me. I died years
ago.
CARAVAGGIO
No, now I can't kill you.
Kip storms into the room, walks straight up to the Patient
and POINTS A GUN AT HIM. Caravaggio is taken by surprise.
CARAVAGGIO (CONT'D)
Kip - what are - ?
KIP
Stay out of this.
THE PATIENT
Kip?
KIP
I looked up to you, Uncle. My
brother always said I was a fool.
Never trust the British, he said:
the deal-makers, the map-makers;
never shake hands with them.
THE PATIENT
What are you talking about?
KIP
What have I been doing all this
time? Do you know how many mines
I've seen? - more mines than there
are soldiers, more - how many mines
we've put in the ground ourselves,
stuffed in corpses, dropped out of
the sky. And now this.
He approaches the bed. Caravaggio tries to intervene.
CARAVAGGIO
Kip, listen - Kip sings the rifle
at him, KNOCKING HIM to the floor.
KIP
I said keep out of this!
He pulls of his earphones and rams them around the Patient's
head, dropping the set onto the bed. The Patient listens,
coughing.
KIP (CONT'D)
Can you hear? Can you hear what
they're celebrating? I listened to
you, Uncle. Sitting at your feet -
always sitting at somebody's feet -
trying to learn. The right way to
hold a teacup, otherwise you're
out, the pukkah knot in your tie -
as if everything can be explained
in terms of a cricket bat and an
accent.
CARAVAGGIO
Kip -
KIP
Kip! - it's not even my name
because you can't say it. Kirpal
Singh Bhuller is my name.
Hana runs in, alerted by the commotion, stunned by what she
sees.
CARAVAGGIO
Well, then ask him his name!
HANA
(getting in between Kip
and the Patient)
What's happened? Kip! What's
happening? Don't shoot, please,
don't shoot anybody.
KIP
They're excited! They're happy
about destroying a whole city.
Would they do that to a White Man's
City? Never!
THE PATIENT
(pulling off the
earphones)
Go on, do it. I don't need to hear
any more.
CARAVAGGIO
Kip, listen, he lost everything
because he wasn't English - Jesus! -
shoot me, I'm more English than he
is!
Kip levels the gun at the Patient. Then breaks it open,
throws it down on the bed, next to the earphones, from which
the news continues to leak, some words audible - Eunola Gay…
Hiroshima… and from different voices - It was beautiful!
just beautiful! Bang! the biggest bang you ever saw!
EXT. KIP'S TENT. LATE DAY.
Hana approaches. Kip is inside the tent, the flap zipped.
She sees his shadow move, then freeze as she calls his name.
It's like a confessional. The flap between them, the man in
shadows, Hana crouched, forlorn.
HANA
Kip. Kip. It's me.
(no response)
Why? It's another bomb. However
big, what's the difference?
There've been so many bombs. What
about Coventry? What about
Dresden? Where were those cities?
(no response)
I don't understand. Let me come
in. The shadow doesn't move. Hana
is at a loss.
INT. THE PATIENT'S ROOM. EVENING.
The Patient becomes aware of something in the room, opens his
eyes, squints into the darkness and sees A FIGURE hovering
against the wall. He's in the Cave, he thinks, he's seeing
the painted figures moving, he's seeing the Swimmer.
KIP - bare chested, no turban, hair loose - stands in the
shadows at the foot of the Patient's bed.
INT. HANA'S ROOM. EVENING.
Kip comes into the room. Hana sits in the corner. She is
nervous of him, his look, his intensity.
KIP
Will you come with me?
HANA
Of course. When?
KIP
I mean home. India.
HANA
Kip… I -
KIP
(interrupting this)
I know - here I am always a brown
man, there you would be always a
white woman.
HANA
Is that what you think? Is that
what you think I think?
KIP
It's what I've learned.
HANA
I'm thinking about your heart, not
your skin. And how to reach it.
And that I don't think I can. A
bomb has ruined us, just not the
bomb I thought would ruin us.
She stands, goes to him.
HANA (CONT'D)
I've clung to you. I've clung to
you. Kip. Life a raft.
KIP
(clinging to her)
Then come with me.
EXT. THE MONASTERY. DAY.
Next morning and Kip has attached what he was making in the
forge - A NEW HANDLE - to the pump. Now he works it,
producing a steady stream of water. His motorbike is against
the wall. He goes to it. Caravaggio is watching. He hugs
Kip, wrapping his arms around the boy like a bear.
EXT. HANA'S VEGETABLE GARDEN. DAY.
HANA stands by her Vegetable Garden. Kip stops the
motorbike. She goes to him, stands, FASTENS THE TOP BUTTON
of his coat. You feel she might jump on the seat behind him.
But she doesn't.
HANA
I'll always go back to that church.
Look at my painting.
KIP
I'll always go back to that church.
HANA
So one day we'll meet.
He nods, winds up the throttle, and is gone.
INT. THE PATIENT'S ROOM. DAY.
Hana comes in carrying FLOWERS and sets them down on the
table next to a clutch of MORPHINE AMPOULES. She picks up
the hypodermic to prepare his injection. She takes a phial.
THE PATIENT REACHES OUT AND PUSHES TWO MORE TOWARDS HER.
THEIR EYES MEET, THEN HE SHOVELS ANOTHER, THEN ALL OF THEM.
She looks at him. IT'S A MASSIVE, LETHAL DOSE.
Hana starts to prepare the injection, her eyes filling with
tears. The Patient nods, smiles, whispers.
THE PATIENT
Thank you. Thank you.
She kisses him, gently on the mouth. He closes his eyes.
THE PATIENT (CONT'D)
Read to me, will you? Read me to
sleep.
EXT.(NEAR THE) BASECAMP. CAVE OF SWIMMERS. 1942. DAY.
The familiar cleft in the rocks. A PLANE is coming in to
land.
INT. CAVE OF SWIMMERS. TORCHLIGHT.
A flashlight flickers in the cave. ALMÁSY APPEARS.
KATHARINE'S CORPSE lies where he left her - a ghost on a bed
of silk and blankets. The chill of the cave has preserved
her. She could be asleep. She clutches the Herodotus.
ALMÁSY
Katharine, my darling.
He sobs, whispering to her. He's terribly cold, exhausted.
He slips underneath the covers to be next to her, and closes
his eyes.
ALMÁSY (CONT'D)
I'm so tired.
INT. THE PATIENT'S ROOM. DAY.
The Patient is slipping away. Hana is reading from the last
pages of the Herodotus where KATHARINE HAS WRITTEN IN THE
MARGINS.
HANA
My darling, I'm waiting for you -
how long is a day in the dark, or a
week?
The Patient looks across AND WHAT HE SEES IS KATHARINE BESIDE
HIM IN THE BED, SMILING, STROKING HIS HEAD, SPEAKING TO HIM.
INT. CAVE OF SWIMMERS. FLASHLIGHT.
Katharine is writing. The FLASHLIGHT is faint. She shivers.
KATHARINE (O/S)
…the fire is gone now, and I'm
horribly cold. I really ought to
drag myself outside but then there
would be the sun…
She passes the flashlight across the wall, the painted
figures dancing in the pale light.
KATHARINE (O/S) (CONT'D)
I'm afraid I waste the light on the
paintings and on writing these
words…
INT. THE PATIENT'S ROOM. DAY.
THE BED IS EMPTY, THE MATTRESS STRIPPED. Hana stands in the
doorway, then sees THE HERODOTUS on the bedside table.
She picks it up, goes to the page of Katharine's letter,
continues to read.
KATHARINE (O/S)
We die, we die rich with lovers and
tribes, tastes we have swallowed…
EXT. LANE OUTSIDE THE MONASTERY GARDEN. DAY.
Caravaggio is at the gate to the Monastery. The TRUCK we saw
before is waiting with him. The PARTISAN with his head
bandana and shotgun remains the same, but now there are
CHILDREN in the back and a WOMAN sits behind the man, nursing
a two-year-old.
CARAVAGGIO
Hana! Come on!
He gets up into the BALUSTRADE, tentatively finds his
balance, then starts to walk, heel to toe - slowly, and then
with more confidence - along the long thin line of stone.
The children watch intently. He turns and bows.
KATHARINE (O/S)
…bodies we have entered and swum up
like rivers, fears we have hidden
in like this wretched cave…
EXT. THE MONASTERY CLOISTERS. DAY.
Hana walks across the cloisters, passing the chalked
hopscotch squares, leaving it all behind. Then she stops,
bends, retrieves A SNAIL SHELL, keeps going. KATHARINE'S
VOICE CONTINUES.
INT. THE CAVE OF SWIMMERS. TORCHLIGHT.
ALMÁSY SMUDGES KATHARINE'S PALE FACE WITH COLOR. OCHRE
across her brow, BLUE on her eyelids, RED on her lips. He
presses his cheek to hers, smoothes her hair.
KATHARINE (O/S)
…I want all this marked on my body.
We are the real countries, not the
boundaries drawn on maps with the
names of powerful men…
EXT. THE LANE OUTSIDE MONASTERY GARDEN. DAY.
KATHARINE'S VOICE CONTINUES. Hana comes out to the truck,
carrying her small bundle. Caravaggio effects some
introduction, beginning with the woman driver, Gioia. She
and Caravaggio smile like lovers.
CARAVAGGIO
Hana - this is Gioia.
Gioia smiles, shakes her hand. Then Hana meets the others -
Gioia's brother and wife, their children. She smiles at
them.
HANA
Buon' giorno.
CARAVAGGIO
She can take you as far as
Florence.
HANA
I can get in the back.
And she clambers up, sits down between the children. They
exchange some small stiff, shy smiles, and then the truck
bounces away. Hana takes one final look at the Monastery as
it disappears around the bend and then turns and confronts
the life insisting noisily in the truck.
EXT. CAVE OF SWIMMERS. DAY.
Almásy comes out of the cave, carrying the bundle of
Katharine in his arms, wrapped in the silks of her parachute.
KATHARINE (O/S)
…I know you will come and carry me
out into the palace of winds, the
rumors of water… That's all I've
wanted - to walk in such a place
with you, with friends, on earth
without maps.
EXT. TIGER MOTH. DAY.
THE PLANE growls and complains into the air.
INT. TIGER MOTH. DAY.
INSIDE THE COCKPIT: THE COUPLE AS AT THE FRONT OF THE FILM.
Almásy obliterated by goggles and helmet. Katharine behind
him, slumped forwards as if sleeping.
Almásy banks across the plateau of the Gilf Kebir and glances
down. In a ravine is a sudden OASIS OF WHITE ACACIAS. He is
mesmerized.
And then it's gone and he passes into the earth without maps -
the desert - as it stretches out for mile after mile.
KATHARINE (O/S)
The lamp's gone out and I'm writing
in the darkness…
Almásy, the English Patient, begins to sing - Szerelem,
Szerelem - until that also fades and is replaced by the
woman's tender lament heard at the beginning of the film,
singing for all that has been lost.
The sound of gun fire…
THE END.