(USA) Ka Robinson
Wan Jiayu / translation
This script is adapted by Kasai Robinson based on Ernest Hemingway's novel of the same name In 1952, it was produced by Daryl Zinack and directed by Henry King.
Hollywood has put a considerable number of world famous novels on the screen, but most of them have introduced the narrative focus and narrative structure of such films into the inherent formula of Hollywood films to cater to the audience's taste, which has caused many writers to be dissatisfied. Hemingway once dismissed the adaptation of "The Snows of Kilimanjaro" as "The Snows of Zinak". The features of this film, the advantages and disadvantages of its adaptation and director are covered in the article about the film structure and adaptation in Hemingway's novels translated and introduced in the second issue of this magazine in 1984. Interested readers may refer to it together.
Title and cast, and a map of Africa overlaid under the credits.
The camera moves, taking us into the foothills of high Kilimanjaro.
(Fade in)
1. Exterior scene, panoramic view of Mount Kilimanjaro, the daytime
camera shows the mountain peak, the majestic and beautiful rocks, the trees distorted by the mountain wind and the perennial snow. The following words are superimposed:
"Kilimanjaro is a mountain 19,710 feet above sea level, covered with snow all year round. It is said to be the highest mountain in Africa. Its western peak is named 'Oa of the Masai. Qiyi Oai', which means the palace of God. Near the west peak, there is a dried leopard corpse. No one can explain what the leopard is looking for in such a high and cold place." The
camera moves down the hillside. Move to the lush virgin forest and continue down until the searing savannah.
(into)
2. Exterior scene, a hunting camp with a tree nearby
Several vultures circled in Wangkong; others greedily landed on the trees. The camera followed the shot of two vultures flying to the ground, running a few steps and stopping. The camera moves to the camp again. Near a silent tent, a man lay on a camp bed under the shade of an acacia tree. A woman sat on a horse and repelled him from bugs.
3. Harry and Helen Sterlite
Harry burly, the prime of life. You may have seen pictures of him in Life magazine, or of his spectacular hunting scenes in Badlands & Rivers. Helen was undoubtedly a beautiful woman, dignified and well-bred. If you've seen a picture of her, it's probably in a magazine like Fashion, Harpies Market, or Town and Country. Harry looked at the few vultures that had just landed with a wry smile and self-deprecating expression. Helen looked at the birds uneasily. Then, he lowered his eyes and looked at his right leg. The leg rested stiffly on the camp bed with pillows high, and a sloppy bandage was tied around the knee.
Harry: The great thing is that it doesn't hurt at all now.
Helen (looking back at him hopefully): Really?
Harry: Really. That's how people know death is coming. (Ignoring her frustration and looking back at the vultures) These birds are ugly, but they know what to do. Don't know if it's the look of the bad legs or the smell that draws them?
Helen (inadvertently looking at the birds): They've been around for a long time. It doesn't mean anything at all.
Harry: They've been circling there since the day the truck broke down, but today is the first time they've hit the ground.
With a self-deprecating look, he watched a vulture fly over his head. She controlled herself, not shivering as the vulture's shadow passed overhead.
Harry: At first I looked at them very carefully and thought maybe it might be useful once I'm writing a short story, but it's ridiculous to think about it now.
Helen: Stop it, Harry. I think let's go as easy as possible until the plane arrives.
Harry: Maybe until the plane doesn't come.
Helen: I wish we hadn't come here at all. If we were still in Paris, nothing like this would happen to you.
She turned her face away, not wanting him to see the fear and nervousness in her. He turned to look at her, the bitter look temporarily dispelled by sympathy for her.
Harry: You said you like it here.
Helen: I do love it here when you're good. I've never loved a place like this. But I don't understand why your leg hurts. what did we do? To make us suffer this kind of sin?
Harry (smiles self-deprecatingly): I guess my mistake was forgot to use iodine the first time I broke my leg. We were stalking the eland, if you didn't forget.
(into)
4. By the bushes, during the day, the distant view
Harry and Helen are stalking a large herd of antelope. He is carrying a camera. Neither had a gun. Servants and drivers waited beside the truck.
HARRY (VO): Just a camera, not even a gun.
5. The antelopes
stand, with their heads held high, their nostrils sniffing, and looking out at the same time.
6. Panning for Harry and Helen as
they move forward quietly. His trousers were caught by the thorns of the bush at the knees.
HARRY (V.O.): Two weeks ago. I don't care at all. Because I have never been infected.
On the screen Harry seemed to curse (inaudible) "bastard" while looking at his torn trousers. Helen (inaudible) is saying, "Oh, Harry, look at your troubles". Harry looked up and saw ---
7. wildebeests ran away
8. Harry and Helen
Harry chagrin staring away wildebeests.
(Included)
9. camps, Harry and Helen
Harry: I did not even photos into a picture.
Helen: I didn't mean that time. (stands up) And your legs weren't the problem that time.
Harry: Not that time?
She went to the water bottle in the shade and fetched some water. There is a layer of moisture on the water bag.
Helen: Not at all. Was last week on the lake.
Harry (laughs): Oh, don't talk nonsense.
Helen. When you run to hit those crocodiles.
(Paws in)
10. African lake, daytime, slow panning shot of
an African canoe with Harry, Helen and a few black people rowing on it. Canoes glide along the lake shore, where there are many crocodiles in the water.
Helen (voice-over): The boat almost overturned and the kid fell into the water.
11. A close-up shot of a canoe
A crocodile jacked up the boat from the water, almost overturning it. The little black child rowing in the stern screamed and fell into the water.
12.
Helen freaked out in the canoe . What the other black man was saying in horror, Harry tried to get up on his knees in the bumpy canoe and shot the crocodile.
(into)
13. MOVING SCENE IN A galloping safari truck The
driver drives the car at high speed, while the other Aboriginal people stand on the pedals on either side of the car and hold on to the gang. Helen sat next to the driver and turned back to Harry and the black kid in the back seat. Harry put his arms around the child. The child was apparently seriously injured and in critical condition.
Helen (V.O.): You insisted on taking the baby back to the car yourself and holding him on the way back to camp, or until he died.
( Walking in )
14. Camp, panning shot
Helen walks back from the water bag holding a paper cup of water.
Helen (continuing the previous words): I'm sure it's the blood and mud that infected you.
HARRY (smiling): That's an opinion. From your point of view, it may be because of my exposure to the lower classes. However, I as a writer would like to see it as a coincidence of fate, but a thorn in it. It's pointless to say that now.
Helen (smiles leniently and hands him the cup): Stop talking. Drink this. You know what I mean: what bad thing have we done—you or me—to suffer this?
Harry: The bad thing I did was believe your nonsense story that some mysterious publisher would advance a sum of money to cover the trip. Your damn money.
Helen: I'm just...
Harry: If I paid a little bit of money to hire a good driver...
15. The
truck was jacked up sideways on the side of the camp . An Aboriginal driver was banging on something hopelessly.
Harry: ...and not this kikuyu driver with half a bottle of vinegar, he'll check the gas level and never burn the truck's bearings. We won't be stuck here!
Helen (retorting): You're not fair at all. My money is your money. I admit I lied to you, but I just wanted to do you a favor. I love you, don't you know?
Harry: That's fine. But what I love is wine... (dumps water from glass) Not water. (calling) Morrow!
16. Go past them and photograph the tent kitchen and the servants.
Some of the servants are picking up game; others are in the tent; all talking softly in Swahili. A particularly lively young man ran out of the tent.
Morrow: Here, sir.
Harry (in Swahili): Bring a whiskey soda.
Morrow: Yes, sir.
Helen (almost simultaneously, hastily and apprehensively): You shouldn't drink, Harry. (calling) Don't take it, Morrow.
Morrow stopped in confusion.
HARRY (in Swahili): Come on, Moro.
Morrow trotted all the way into the tent.
Helen: Alcohol is bad for you.
Harry: Huh, no. It's good for me.
Helen: It's not good for you.
Harry: Yes, it's bad for me. (Like a devil) Cole Porter's lyrics and tune--know you're crazy for me.
Helen: The Red Cross first aid manual says alcohol is bad for you.
HARRY (with a flash of interest in his eyes) Possibly. That's why you read it, right? Transform me into an alcoholic?
Helen (again loses his temper at him): I wanted to help you, Harry. There's always something I can do, right?
Harry: You can amputate this leg and maybe save me from dying. I have doubts about that though. Or you can shoot me. Your marksmanship is good. I taught you how to shoot.
Morrow had brought the whiskey soda that had been paired. Helen walked over and snatched the cup from his hand.
Helen: In order not to let you drink, I'm going to drink this glass of wine.
Harry: That's a pretty good rule of thumb. In order not to let others get their hands on them, you take everything you can. I'd rather act according to this rule.
Moruo was still hesitating, and the servant left, wondering if he had any other orders. Helen glanced at him, a little embarrassed.
Helen: I dare say he understands more English than you think.
Harry: Go, Morrow, or plug your ears so you can't hear civilized people arguing. (in Swahili) Go.
Morrow: Yes, sir.
Morrow is gone. Helen was in a bad mood and leaned against the tree, not wanting to sit down on the chair beside him. She held up the glass of wine, but didn't drink it.
Helen: If you thought you were going to die, did you have to destroy everything beforehand?
Harry: By the way, I don't want to leave anything behind when I die.
He looked at her and saw that she was crying. He was ashamed of himself and felt deeply for her.
Harry: Listen, do you think it's interesting to do this? I don't know why to do this. Maybe destroying everything to keep myself alive, I thought. Do you understand this?
Helen: I can try to understand.
Harry, death itself is not that important. People are killing Bo all their lives. But when gangrene starts, it doesn't hurt. As the pain subsided, so did the fear. But dying as a loser leaves a rotten smell. Terrible is the smell of death, the suspense after death.
Helen: Honey, I know you're not feeling well...
Harry: Not feeling well, me? Nonsense. It's actually quite interesting. It's a big joke.
Helen: What's the big joke?
Harry: All that. (points to the vultures) Including those guys. I was just thinking how ridiculous it would be if a vulture flew over my head and smashed the Rock of Gibraltar into my eyes.
Helen: I don't see anything particularly funny about it.
Harry: Yeah, maybe not particularly funny. To a vulture, dropping something on me is like transporting coal to Newcastle. (Note: It refers to Newcastle, an Australian city rich in coal.)
Helen: Why do you like to slander yourself so much! You make fun of everything, including yourself...but...
Harry (interrupting her): How can a man miss a chance like he misses a boat?
Helen; you missed the plane and it's going to be...
Harry (interrupting her): What I was trying to accomplish. There are things that cannot be done. Where did it all start? Probably from the cradle. Or at least it started when your beard was hard. Did I tell you about my first love?
Helen: No.
She walked towards him. He stared at the wine glass in her hand and stretched out his hand to her.
Harry: I'll tell you while I'm drinking.
She sat down just out of his reach. He couldn't help but be amused.
Harry: Lucky for you, there are a lot of things I didn't tell you. Still, if you like to hear weird stuff, this is good material.
At this time, there was a sound of music that seemed to have a metallic sound in the distance, which continued until——
(the first flashback, turned into)
17. A lake in Michigan, probably in 1917, the night
shot along the The water was slowly panning, and a canoe was slowly paddling toward a remote sandy beach on a nearby landmass. The night was bright, although the moon did not rise until a quarter of an hour later, and the sky was clear. There are tall trees on the shore. There are slipways for mooring boats or rafts for swimming in front of the sparse wooden houses. The metallic music wafting across the lake seemed to be a small orchestra playing. The camera pans to reveal the lights of a small playground in the distance, with the shadow of a canoe against the background. There were two young men in the canoe.
18. Close-up panning, canoe
A young man is Harry, about eighteen or nineteen years old, sitting on the bow of the boat rowing. Rowing at the stern was Connie, about the same age as Harry—a warm, romantic, sweet little girl who worked at the cold drink stand at Olson's Playground. She is not a "misbehaving" girl, that must be made clear. She has blond hair and fair skin, and she's in the middle of a love affair, and she glances to the side, and then...
Connie: Too bad, summer is almost over, isn't it? Are you sorry that summer is coming to an end?
Harry: I love autumn too.
Connie: But this summer--are you happy or sorry this summer? Harry, do you feel sorry for this Shaf?
The canoe hit the sand on the shore, and Harry stomped on the water, pulling it up to the sand.
Harry; no pity.
19. On the beach by the lake, Harry and Connie
lit a fire, spread out a blanket, opened a bamboo basket, and set dinner. They sat down on the blankets, but kept a distance from each other. Harry hunched his back and watched where the round moon had just risen.
Connie (tentatively) You don't eat much...what's the matter?
Harry: Who said what happened?
Connie put down her sandwich. She was a little frightened, but she didn't know what made her frightened.
Connie: You're a little weird tonight. Usually you are always very affectionate. Oh, not that you don't... (Pauses) You're a little weird tonight. Did I do something...
Harry (interrupting): It's a full moon tonight.
She looked at the lake and the moon.
Connie (flirtingly): I know.
She had been sitting there leaning on her elbows. Now she lay down on her arms, in order to better see the rising moon reflected on the water.
Harry: You know too much.
Connie: I know about the moon. Harry...
Harry: Women always think they know everything, but all they know is the moon.
She propped herself up on her elbows. She felt that terror come over her again.
Connie: Harry, is it about the two of us? tell me. Your uncle doesn't like me, does he? Is this the case?
HARRY (long pause. Reluctantly): He doesn't want me to hang out with you anymore. It took Connie a while to understand what was going on.
Connie: Don't you love me too?
She looked at him, and he shrugged, and the side of his cheek near her reflected a flash of cold fire.
HARRY (reluctantly but firmly): Yes.
He lowered his head. She was perplexed—there was so much in the matter that she was afraid she would never understand. She was sad, but she had pride. She stood up, and when she was about to get to the boat, he got up.
Harry: I'll give you a push.
Connie: No need!
He stopped at the water's edge and she pushed the boat into the water herself. He suddenly looked depressed.
Connie was paddling, turning the boat around so she could paddle away, and now she was probably crying and definitely resentful. He kicked the wood from the campfire with one foot, then kicked the sand to put it out. He heard something in the bushes and stopped.
Uncle Bill came out of the shade. He was fishing and was going home. Harry turned slightly to see that it was him, then turned back and continued to kick the ground to put out the fire. Uncle Bill looked at Harry, looked at the boat on the lake, looked back at Harry again, and came over. Uncle Bill's feet were kicking the sand too.
Uncle Bill: Did she argue with you?
HARRY (extremely angry): Go away!
Uncle Bill (pauses, softly): Unlucky today, just caught three small ones.
Uncle Bill walked away. Harry didn't even look at him, just kept kicking the dirt and putting out the fire.
(into)
20. In Uncle Bill's house, the big room, at night
Uncle Bill knocked the ash from his pipe onto the small fire in the big fireplace. Harry came in.
The room can tell us many characteristics of the owner: it is a man's room, a man who likes outdoor activities: hunting, fishing, there are shotgun racks, fishing gear in the room. But this is another scholar's room, and the bookshelves against the wall are full of books. There is also a globe, map and a desk. It was on this desk that Uncle Bill wrote his scholarly articles and anthologies.
Hearing Harry coming in, Uncle Bill turned his face and pushed aside the lunch basket. He went over and picked up an empty pipe from the pipe rack on the desk. Beside him was an old leather armchair, and beside it was a table. On the table were water jars and glasses with wine, and a glass of wine that Uncle Bill had just poured for himself.
Uncle Bill: After your parents were beaten to death ten years ago, you were raised by me, no matter how difficult it was. It's funny, I'm an old conservative and don't have a wife, but I try my best. I'm not against you guys because the girl's family is not clear, or because she sells soda at the Olson's Playground. And not entirely because you're both too young. It's...
Harry (suddenly): I want to drink.
Uncle Bill's reaction was startled. The boy looked at him, but stood motionless. Uncle Bill understands. It's just a gesture of resistance.
Uncle Bill: If you think it makes you feel like a man, the stomach is yours and I won't pour you a drink.
He watched the boy strode to the wine jar.
Uncle Bill (gently): This is the first time for you, isn't it?
Harry (defiantly): Yes.
Uncle Bill: Well, everything has to be done the first time. (Interestingly) In that regard, Harry, even today, our morality is largely Victorian, which means that women have to be supported by men. (laughs) I don't want to watch you tether the woman you meet for the first time.
Harry took a sip of wine and choked. Uncle Bill was kind enough to save face, didn't laugh, and didn't seem to notice.
Uncle Bill: I'm going to fry my little fish. (walks away) Are you still going to be a writer?
Harry: I just want to be a writer.
Uncle Bill went into the kitchen without closing the door. He fryed three small gills on a plate on the wood stove.
Uncle Bill (pleasantly): Wow. But what kind of writer do you want to be?
HARRY (surprised) What kind?
Uncle Bill: There are all kinds. Do you want to write light-hearted soap operas to please housewives and make them forget their troubles? That works too. Soap operas are no shame.
Harry: Don't want to do this.
Uncle Bill: Or do you want to be a writer who writes about what you have experienced and what you have seen?
Harry: If I can.
Uncle Bill: Well, in my opinion, it's not that you don't have a chance... (walks back to the great room) You're a good hunter. At least I taught you.
The old man's mild, cheerful words softened Harry's anger a bit.
Harry: I don't see how this has anything to do with being a writer?
Uncle Bill: It will matter, Harry. It's about your life, and life is a long hunt. (Removes Springfield rifle from rack) Wherever you go, it's for the pursuit of truth worth telling. Do you have the courage to persevere? Going down this trail, no matter how many difficulties and obstacles you will experience, you are not afraid that it will be a sea of swords and flames. Do you have the courage? You can't predict what the future will be like.
Harry: I don't care what it is.
Uncle Bill: Then let God bless you and have mercy on you. Don't ruin your chances by taking a wife in the first place, though. You are still young and still need education. I'll give you the money to get you into the best school in the country. But my conditions have been made clear.
He looked at Harry, waiting for his answer. But Harry didn't answer, just stood up in resistance. Uncle Bill suddenly smelled something.
Uncle Bill: My fish! (Pauses beside the gun rack) Shall we go grouse tomorrow?
HARRY (throbbing hard): All right.
Uncle Bill (puts the gun back) Oh, from now on you can consider yourself the owner of this gun. (Goes into the kitchen)
Harry (pauses): Thanks, Uncle Bill.
He staggered out of the room and onto the balcony.
21. Balcony, Panorama, Harry
He walked to the railing. The night was as quiet and beautiful as before—the moon was shining brightly, reflecting on the water. In the distance, from the other side of the lake came the faint sound of music from the playground. He was lost, unable to restrain his feelings, and cried.
(The flashback stops, turns into)
22. The camp in Africa, during the day, Harry and Helen
are silent. He was trapped in memories, with a bitter but amused look on his face. She smiled, thinking about what he had told her, but there was also a hint of sadness in her smile.
Helen: I'm going to cry.
Harry: What did you say?
Helen: For that boy, it's you.
Harry: God, why?
Helen: Well, that was his first big loss.
Harry: How are you sure he lost the girl?
Helen (surprised) You didn't lose her?
Harry: Not as you think. The next day I went to her and proposed to her. But a Mardi Gras man from St. Louis got the upper hand. (laughs) Well, she got what she wanted—leaving Olson's Playground.
Helen: What about you?
Harry: I packed up and left. Hitched a ride to Chicago and got a job as a scribe at the Tribune.
Helen: I'm very happy. You've got the guts, it's brave enough to go out like this alone.
Harry: Oh, I've traveled solo and it's nothing. I went to Africa with you, you, my beautiful and rich wife. And, before you, there were a few more! It's called solo travel. It's rare.
Helen: Harry, you're here again, I can't stand it.
Harry (smiles); Love is a pile of cow dung, and I'm a rooster, flying on this pile of dung and crowing. (He keeps staring slyly at the untouched glass of wine)
Harry (saws Helen getting up and going away): Where are you going?
Helen: Let's see what else they can do for where the plane will land. (She subconsciously takes the wine glass just out of Harry's reach) Then I should go get some game for dinner. The meat storage room is empty.
Harry: Put on your boots.
Helen: I will.
Harry: Before you go, you might—come here—kiss me... (raises head).
Helen (bends down to kiss his front collar): Don't move.
Harry (holds the glass in his hand): ...leave this to me by Bian.
Helen: Oh, Harry. (He laughs contentedly) Why do you have to find yourself guilty?
Harry: Because if I can't die happily, I'm going to try to die drunk.
Helen: You're not going to die. You have a long way to go, and so do I. You are my life, and we're going to get through it together.
Harry: Is it? But I am dying slowly now. (points to the vultures) Just ask them.
Helen: You won't die as long as you hold on.
Harry: Where did you read these words. Stop talking nonsense.
Helen: Oh, how can I help you if you don't hold on to it yourself?
Harry: By sleeping? No, thank you. It won't be long before you get enough sleep. While I still have time, I have a lot to do, a lot to think about, and a long journey to finish in my mind. Go on your hunt. It's something we're good at, something we're both good at.
Helen (pulling up): Where is the journey in your mind taking you? Take it back to Paris, right?
HARRY (sarcastic humor): Maybe. Do we all have to die before we go back to Paris?
Helen: Good to be with her, your lost lover?
Harry: I might share this drink with her.
Helen (more spiritually): Listen, Harry. I love you my love. I love you with all my heart. If I could save you with my life, I would die. I will make every effort. If I stay here and let you tear me to shreds, I'll stay here even if it saves a minute of your pain. But maybe you're right and leave you alone on the journey of your mind. Try to think clearly this time. I only ask you one thing, I beg you, please try to help me to save you.
Harry (showing her the glass): By drinking?
Helen: I didn't mean that at all. (She walks quickly to a occupied tent, called in Swahili) Abdullah, get out the Springfield rifle.
HARRY (shouting in English): Get the Springfield rifle out.
Helen (in Swahili): Also, bring something to eat.
Harry (shouting in English): Bring food!
Harry stared at Helen's back for a long time - almost with hatred of her, hatred of everything - but he hated himself more. Then, he turned to look at the glass of wine in his hand. He stared at the glass for a while and thought. Slowly tip the glass and let the wine flow slowly to the ground. The camera moves up, past his head...
(Second flashback, turns in)
23. Paris, 1920s, panorama, night
close-up shot shows the street name: rue des Parnass. The shot is accompanied by loud, loud music, which then fades to a French dance tune that can be heard coming from a nearby pub. The camera pans to a building with an unobtrusive sign above one of its doors: Hotel Emile.
(into)
24. INT. "Hotel Emile" Bagpipe Ballroom -
It's a small, hot place at night , with a few rough tables and long benches against the wall. The mandolin and accordion played what the French considered to be the backing dancers. Many men took off their tops and danced. But Charlie Compton—a young British illustrator—was dancing with Cynthia Green in his top.
At the entrance, Harry walked in. The owner, Emile, greeted him. Emil was a jolly fat man who loved Harry as much as his own son.
AMIL (pleasantly): Hello, Harry! happy to see you.
Harry: How are you, Amy?
Emile (signs to the room): Look!
Harry made his way through the crowd to the bar counter. He is young and full of energy, and here he is. In the world at the time, this little crossroads was home to artists, writers, musicians, models, and connoisseurs of tickets. Harry is a figure here, most greeted him in French, some in English.
Emile's stocky, pretty wife, Annette, tended the zinc-faced bar counter. She was also very happy to see Harry. Harry can be said to be her darling.
Annette (in French) What do you want, Harry?
Harry: My desire? This can be a problem in English. (Annette doesn't understand, he smiles) Have a glass of champagne, Annette.
Annette (pours): A glass of champagne.
Harry: You fell. Some say...
he glanced at the dancing people. Almost immediately noticed the girl dancing with Charlie Compton. She was telling Compton some funny story (the noise made it hard to hear what was being told), and the two laughed together. Cynthia stopped laughing when she saw Harry staring at her. For a while the two stared at each other not far from each other, and then she turned away. Harry had noticed the hair under her hat, her pale green eyes, and the way her slender legs moved. He couldn't wait to get Charlie's attention.
Harry: Hi, Compton!
Compton: Harry, how's the writing going?
Harry: Whose book are you referring to? It was not written.
The music stopped for a while. Harry came over.
Compton: It's not easy to write a book without doing your business.
Harry: Hey. I was invited to dance this dance...
Compton: Go get yourself a company, man.
At this time, the music played again. Compton threw his arms around the girl and jumped away. Cynthia looked back at Harry and smiled—not at him, but at the apparently amusing situation.
Harry watched for a while, then walked back to the bar to turn down the table, shrugged, dropped the money, and started out.
At the door facing the street.
Emile: Not for a while, Harry?
Harry: If you stay any longer, someone's nose will be broken. It's either me or Compton, and that girl's smile is going to cause a fight.
Emil didn't understand, he went out.
(into)
25. A house where artists meet, night
This place is on a hill, and through the large glass windows, you can see the famous scenery of Paris with twinkling lights, like the Eiffel Tower. The piano was Orich, the drummer was Cocteau, and the trumpet was a young black American. Their performance of Stravinsky's "The Firebird" was good enough. The camera pans across the smoky, crowded room to Harry. He sits on the ground. He was luckier than those who couldn't even find a place to sit. Harry was listening to the music as intently as everyone else, not even noticing that she was sitting next to him. He was about to light a cigarette for himself, when his ear rang...
Cynthia (very close): Can you chime?
Harry turned his head, the camera panned slightly, and found himself looking directly into the pale green eyes of the girl with the fine hair.
She was approaching him with a cigarette in her mouth, and their faces were very close. On a whim, he lit the ends of two cigarettes that were next to each other with a match. They didn't know each other at all, but Harry's gesture was surprising, as if it were more intimate than kissing.
Cynthia: Thank you. My name is Cynthia, Cynthia Green.
Harry: Sim. nice. when did you come in.
Cynthia: A few minutes ago.
Harry: Damn I didn't see it.
Cynthia (looking in the direction of the music): It's scary to play Stravinsky like that.
Harry looked there too.
The virtuosos rubbed into Firebird the then-fashionable American jazz.
Harry looked back at her.
Harry: My name is...
Cynthia: Harry Street. (turns his head to look at him) From the Chicago Tribune. You are a writer.
HARRY (smiling): Used to be at the Chicago Tribune, and I was just trying to write.
Cynthia: They're saying the exact opposite of that. (Brings the glass from his hand) No objection?
He shook his head. She drank a little and looked a little greedy, indicating that she really needed some wine.
Harry: Everyone's here trying to do something. At least want to try. What are you trying to do? Do you want to be a painter?
Cynthia: No. I didn't try to paint.
Harry: So you're practicing sculpture?
Cynthia: No, I didn't try sculpture.
Harry: Then you must be trying to write too.
Cynthia: No. I'm just trying to have a good time.
Harry: Look, everybody's trying to do something.
Cynthia: I dare say I'm the only one in this damn place trying to make myself as happy as possible. (hands him the cup) Take this away. Sometimes I drink too much.
HARRY (shaking his head) Nothing is too much for the pursuit of pleasure.
Cynthia: But I'm not completely idle either. Sometimes I go to model.
Harry: "All naked" in the words of my unmarried aunt?
Cynthia: Sometimes yes.
Harry: Yeah, we all have to live by what God has given us.
Cynthia smiled. She looked at the black man playing the trumpet. He blows really hard.
Cynthia: Doesn't that African have any piety?
She glanced at Harry and saw that he had noticed Charlie Compton. Compton was asking for wine, and after getting it, he would definitely come here.
Harry: I think it's a bit of a discipline, are you a Compton woman?
Cynthia: No. I'm hardly a Compton woman. I'm not his woman at all. I belong to myself.
Harry: So what do you think about you and me going somewhere else to show your devotion?
Cynthia (thinks a little bit): I think I'd be happy to obey.
(Into)
20. Along the Augustine the Great River, Night
Harry and Cynthia looked at the waters of the Seine. She was telling him about her own life.
Cynthia: ...my father was a soldier. He was very unlucky and died on the Argonne front. After the war, I came here to bring his remains home. But as soon as I saw France, I decided it was as good a resting place as anywhere. For him and for myself. So I stayed.
Harry: Where's the mother?
Cynthia: Dead for years.
Harry: What about the money?
Cynthia: Not too much, not too little.
Harry: Now, where are we going to rest now? Would you like to go to another hotel to rest and have a drink?
Cynthia, don't want to go. I went to pubs and drank too much.
HARRY (looking down at the lights across the Seine) How about going to the club on the Champs-Élysées? You can meet students from Harvard, Yale and Princeton.
cynthia. Sorry, I've seen this before. (She looks up at the spire of Notre Dame in the sky)
HARRY: In Paris, no one ever suggested going home and resting.
She turned slowly to face him, not knowing how to understand what he meant.
Cynthia (suddenly breathless) Can I have a cigarette?
She is buying time to think. He pulled out two cigarettes, one for each. He lit two cigarettes in the same way he had used not long ago. But this time the cigarette she was smoking was a little trembling.
HARRY (quietly) Can you see yourself as Harry's woman?
Cynthia (shaky slightly): Will you be nice to me? I think I'm a little afraid of you.
But she had fallen into his arms. The camera pulled away from them.
(Temporarily interrupting the flashback, turning into)
27. Camp in Africa, Harry, daytime
Harry fell asleep. The camera pans over him, revealing Helen. She had changed into her long hunting boots and was about to set off with a gun-carrying servant. But she stopped and told Morrow to sit next to Harry. The camera is on Harry, who is asleep, but restlessly, with the occasional moan or two. We hear—
Harry's voice: There's so much I haven't written yet, and now I'll never be able to. I only finished writing about my first experience in Paris, which is the Paris I love...
(The second flashback of the person, turned into)
28. Castle Parapet Square, panoramic view, then close-up, during the day
we heard:
Harry's voice : In the castle parapet square, flower sellers dye their flowers with paint, and the streets are covered with purple paint. The bus leaves from here. . . . The old man and the old lady were always drunk and drank bad marc brandy. ...the children snotted in the icy cold wind. . . A golden horse's head hangs outside the horse butcher shop, and golden and red horse meat hangs in the open window. ...and the green-painted co-op, where we buy and drink, and it's nice and cheap. ...I know all the neighbors there because they are all poor. That's right there, in poverty...
29. EXT. YIKIN STREET NEAR THE CASTLE PARADISE PLAZA, DAY,
PAN Cynthia running, waving an open letter.
Harry's Voice: I finished that first book, a good one. It marked the beginning of everything I wanted to do. I titled it "The Lost Generation." I didn't know at the time how important it was to my Cynthia.
Cynthia (seeing him): Honey! ...Harry! ......
30. Outside a small shop
Harry looked at the furnishings in the window, thoughtful. The shop might be called "African Market," because that might be what that little hole in the wall means. Among the objects on display are some very surprising and excellent specimens of African game, drums, weapons, etc. When he heard Cynthia call him, she was already by his side.
Cynthia: Honey, the book has been accepted, your first book has been accepted and is about to be published.
Harry: No way!
She fell into his arms.
Cynthia: Oh dear, now we can...
Harry: How much is the advance payment?
Cynthia: What?
Harry: Check. how much is it?
Cynthia (
pulls the check out of the envelope): Well, not too much, but not too much... Harry (snatchs the check): You're right, not too much. Still, it's enough if we stick to it.
Cynthia: Now we can buy that apartment by the Seine, and...
Harry: Now we can go to Africa.
She was so stunned that she couldn't even speak.
(Into)
31. EXTERIOR, AFRICA (Tanganyika), daytime (early morning), the panorama
shows a small mountain or hill slanting across the screen. The morning sky is clear and crisp. The camera freezes, and then I hear...
Harry's voice: For me, that time in Africa will never come again.
After a while, there was some movement on the top of the mountain, and slowly, an indigenous hunter—Abdullah—climbed up. He slipped quietly down the nearby hillside. Meanwhile, a group of people emerge from under the camera, quietly approaching the native hunter. The group included Harry and Cynthia, a white English hunter named Uncle Johnson, Simba—the gun-bearer, another gun-bearer, and another Aboriginal hunter.
32. The crowd shot
they got together. The hunter who climbed over the ridge was reporting something to Uncle Johnson in Swahili, and he mentioned the word rhino.
Uncle Johnson: They're over there.
Harry: Good.
Uncle Johnson: There are four in total. One male, three females.
They started walking towards the mountain. Cynthia was a little timid. When approaching the top of the mountain, everyone bowed down to avoid showing their shadows. The camera kept following them.
Harry: Don't be nervous.
Abdullah (in Swahili): A handsome male rhino.
Uncle Johnson: He said it was a beautiful male rhinoceros.
Harry: I understand what he's saying.
He was both excited and nervous about the hunt, and nervous because of excitement. He licked his finger, then held it up to test the wind, not satisfied with the result.
Uncle Johnson: I said, shouldn't it be time for the wife to take the first shot?
Harry: Yes, Uncle Johnson.
Cynthia (categorically): I don't want to get the first shot.
She was so frightened that it seemed almost comical.
Harry: This bull is yours.
Cynthia (very resolutely): I really don't want to.
Uncle Johnson: You'll play well.
Harry took a jar of dust from his entourage. He grabbed a handful of ashes and threw it out, anxiously flying it away.
Harry: The damn wind blows the smell in all directions. Don't scare them away.
They looked worriedly across the mountain.
33. From the top of the ridge—four rhinos
standing on the edge of the wood, about two hundred yards away. The female rhino was grazing, and the male seemed uneasy.
34. The group of people on the ridge
Harry looked a little weird, and he was very nervous because Cynthia was taking the first shot, and he was giving her a lot of advice. Uncle Johnson looked at them, then at the rhino. He found Harry's appearance amusing. As a hunter he had a lot of respect for Harry and he liked Cynthia very much.
Harry: Don't be nervous. Just think of it as a tin can at camp.
Cynthia: But it's not a tin can at camp. I don't want to fight anymore. (to Uncle Johnson, very nervously) Where did I hit it?
Uncle Johnson: If you can, aim for the shoulder.
Cynthia: How far is it?
Uncle Johnson: About two hundred yards. Maybe not.
Harry: At this distance, aim low. As if about to hit the ground. Put it in the scope, hold your breath, and pull the trigger. Did you turn on the insurance?
Cynthia looked up at him pitifully, wishing he would stop talking.
Uncle Johnson (quiet reminder): Hold still.
35. Rhino Herd
Male rhinos clearly smell human. They started walking towards the woods.
36. The camera crossed a group of people on the ridge, and shot
Harry the rhino : God, shoot!
Cynthia took a shot.
Simba: Hit!
However, the only reaction was that the rhino started to trot. Harry shot them now, three or four times. Uncle Johnson fired a shot. The male rhino was hit twice, but the rhinos all ran into the woods. The men began to run, shouting in excitement, while taking another shot. Cynthia sat on the ground, looking very embarrassed. The men stopped by the woods. Cynthia stood up. She didn't want to go to them and listen to what they had to say about her. Simba is with her. The two walked over together.
(Into)
37. By the woods,
Harry and Uncle Johnson were drinking water from a small pot while waiting for Cynthia to catch up. Abdullah and another hunter looked for the escape of the rhino on the edge of the woods ahead.
Harry: I dare say I shot it at least twice.
Uncle Johnson: You'll be fine if you hit it.
Harry: Definitely hit. But what's the use of this? It still ran into the woods.
Cynthia and Simba step into the picture. The men stared at her and didn't mean to blame. But she felt ashamed and uncomfortable.
Cynthia, I hesitated to say I didn't want to get the first shot.
Simba: Mrs. hit.
Harry: Simba said you hit it.
His smile was more embarrassing than anything he could say.
Cynthia: He's crazy. I didn't see anything, not even a rhino.
Abdullah (from the edge of the woods): Sir.
They looked over there. What else did Abdullah point to?
Uncle Johnson: Shall we go over and see what we found?
They went to the edge of the woods. Cynthia, walking side by side with Harry, felt particularly embarrassed.
Cynthia: I'm sorry I messed up.
Simba (persistently), Mrs. hit!
Harry (smiling): Listen to what your entourage has to say. He is proud of you.
His masculine jokes made her charming.
Cynthia: I never said I was a hunter. You are the hunter. (to Uncle Johnson) Yes, and you. (turns back to Harry) Great white hunter!
Uncle Johnson: Don't let Mr. look down on you. Remind him that you shot that beautiful antelope. (He laughs, which is rare for him, and Harry smiles at him)
Harry (happy): Shut your mouth. This rhino was hit by me.
They approached Abdullah and another native hunter. Abdullah pointed a leaf to a bloodstain on a bare bush, and then to more blood on other bushes.
Harry: Can you see anything from these bloodstains?
Uncle Johnson: It can only be said that there is a lot of blood. You've clearly hit the nail on the head, let's take a puff and wait a minute.
Harry: OK.
Sitting in the shade with Uncle Johnson, he pulled out cigarettes. Cynthia stared at them.
Cynthia: What do you mean, wait a minute?
Harry: Let it suffer for a while and then we'll go in.
Cynthia: I'm not going.
Harry (happy: It's yours. Maybe you're hitting it in the eye.
Cynthia: I'm not going. I am afraid.
Harry laughed. He reached out, grabbed her hand, and pulled her down beside him. He was very happy.
Harry: All right. Uncle Johnson and I will take care of your cow for you.
Cynthia: I'm not letting you go either.
Harry: That's another story.
(Into)
38. The same group of people,
about a quarter of an hour later from another angle . Harry was about to light another cigarette, but threw it away and stood up. Cynthia looked at him uneasily.
Harry: Shall we go?
Uncle Johnson: Look at him. He hit something, and his eyebrows burned with anxiety.
Cynthia (to Uncle Johnson) Do you have to go?
Uncle Johnson: Listen. It's no joke to let an Aboriginal man accidentally bump into the injured rhino. And don't let that rhino suffer.
Harry: Are you going?
Cynthia (to Uncle Johnson) Can't you just let the entourage go?
Uncle Johnson (embarrassed): Ruining the master's fun?
Cynthia: Well, let's go together.
Despite her fear, she stood up. The men looked at her and looked at each other. This was beyond their expectations.
Harry: You don't have to go.
Cynthia: I'll go if you go.
HARRY (to Uncle Johnson) Tell her not to go.
Uncle Johnson: You tell her. You married her.
Harry: You and Simba are waiting here. The rhino may have died in it. I was just joking with you just now.
Uncle Johnson said something to Simba in Swahili and left with the hunters.
Simba: Yes. (approaches Cynthia)
Cynthia: Be careful.
Harry: Don't worry. I run faster than anything.
Cynthia: Don't want to kiss me?
Harry (laughs): Kissing you and saying goodbye? Are you making a fuss? Just sit in the shade and cool off.
He kissed her lightly and left with Uncle Johnson. She stood there, worried.
39. In the forest the
hunters go ahead. Harry with Uncle Johnson.
Harry: It can't go very far.
Uncle Johnson: Yeah, it might be dead. If it didn't die, you know what it would have done.
Harry: I'd rather it try. Then it will get a few shots in the face.
40. At the edge of the forest, Cynthia was so
nervous with Simba that she couldn't take it anymore. She started walking into the forest. Simba was taken aback, he didn't want her in. But he had no choice but to go in.
41. In the forest, Harry and Uncle Johnson Uncle
Johnson: Its corners take up a lot of the front, so don't hit your head. Jump to the side and shoot it as it rushes past. Don't feel ashamed to do so.
Harry: I just wish it was as aggressive as I am.
Uncle Johnson: I have a large-caliber rifle in my hand. Don't be too careless.
He glanced at Harry. He was a little worried, but Harry was very relaxed. He was about to say something when he heard a sound behind him. He turned to look, startled.
Uncle Johnson: Oops, that can't be done!
42. The camera
goes over them to shoot Cynthia as she is walking towards them from a distance. She walked in a hurry, and Simba trotted after him.
Harry (shouting): Hey! go back!
At the same time, a hunter in front suddenly screamed loudly. When they heard it, they turned around immediately, and before they had time to think about it, they knew what was going on.
43. The camera goes over them
The hunters were running away when the wounded rhino dashed past them. Its nose was bloody and foaming, and it rushed forward. Both Harry and Uncle Johnson fired at the same time.
44. VISION
Cynthia is running while trying her best to yell "Harry!" There is a commotion ahead, a burst of gunfire.
45. It is
almost impossible to record everything that happened before, because the speed is too fast. But both men were shooting. Fragments and dust from the rhino horn flew around when the bullet hit. Uncle Johnson stepped to the side, but Harry stood motionless, facing the rhino. The rhino ran another distance, farther than expected, and almost fell down before Harry, and it was at this time that the two were still firing guns.
(Turns into)
46. EXTERIOR, Harry and Cynthia's camp in Africa, night,
a bonfire is burning brightly in the distant view , and the fire is shining on the tent. There was the sound of the entourage gathering around the small bonfire in the back and singing. Harry, Cynthia, and Uncle Johnson sat around the fire.
47. A group of aboriginal people
are busy doing various chores, singing happily while playing with the head of the rhino while the skinner is playing.
48. By the bonfire, the three of
them are drinking, but only Cynthia is currently drinking. Harry was staring at the entourage who was playing with the rhino's head, and he wanted to go there again, to be with Uncle Johnson and Cynthia. He felt very happy. Uncle Johnson found it interesting.
Harry: I had the most amazing feeling when I saw it rush out of the woods. It was pure happiness. Do you think I was so busy coping with it that I forgot to be afraid? is it?
Uncle Johnson: I don't know. I've seen all kinds of situations anyway.
Harry: That was the most amazing thing. Have you ever felt this way? Like a sudden burst of pure joy.
Uncle Johnson: I hope you don't brag about how amazing you felt when you got back to Nairobi.
Harry: You don't have to worry about that.
Uncle Johnson: I also hope you don't put it in a book.
Harry: You don't have to worry about that either.
Uncle Johnson: Why do people who come to Africa feel compelled to write a book? A fool even dedicated a book to me.
Harry: I'll only write a book when I have enough knowledge to write it down correctly, so you don't have to worry about it. I'm just talking.
Cynthia (kindly) Are you two going to fight all night?
Harry (smiling): We're talking about your rhino.
Cynthia: It's not mine.
Harry: It's all yours. We're just tidying it up a bit for you.
Uncle Johnson: Don't let him bully you all the time. Tell him how much he makes a fuss.
HARRY (standing up) Who wants to see that rhino's horn again?
Neither of the two said a word.
HARRY (goes away) Good horn. It wasn't a record, but it was a high-quality rhino horn.
49. Uncle Johnson and Cynthia
He smiled and looked back at her, and found her with her head down, worried and distressed. The smile on his face disappeared. He felt an indescribable embarrassment.
Cynthia: What are you saying about me, Uncle Johnson?
Uncle Johnson: Did something happen?
Cynthia: Stop pretending you don't know.
Uncle Johnson (knows how): Well, not everyone has to like Africa.
Cynthia: I try to cheer up and act like I like it here, because he's so happy. But all this, the hunting, the killing, the death, just terrified me.
Uncle Johnson: But no one knew what was going to happen this morning. The way you ran into the forest with us, like a beagle.
Cynthia: Until I fainted.
Uncle Johnson got up and took a stick from the fire to light his pipe.
Uncle Johnson: Listen to me. The things he talks about—excitement, or courage, what he's feeling, etc., are all man's feelings. It's natural to a man, it's what's in a man's heart, and it's what makes him a man. If he has these things, there is nothing particularly to be proud of. If he doesn't have that, he's really missing something. A woman's courage manifests in other ways. many ways. (sits down) I talk too much.
Cynthia: I have another thing that scares me right now, and it's even worse.
Uncle Johnson: What's the matter?
Cynthia: I have a baby, Uncle Johnson.
Uncle Johnson: Huh?
Cynthia: I'm pretty sure. We come to Africa for the spoils of war. He got his and I got mine.
Uncle Johnson (embarrassed): Hmm. It's natural, isn't it?
Cynthia: Should I tell him? What will he think?
Uncle Johnson (embarrassed) Why are you asking me?
Cynthia: Uncle, when I first met Harry... (hands him the bottle) Any more?
Uncle Johnson: No, thank you.
Cynthia: I want a drink. (Pours some nervously into his glass) I've been a wanderer all my life. No friends, no place. I guess you'd say I'm not even physically safe. Later, I met Harry—if you saw him in Paris. Have you been to Paris, Uncle Johnson?
Uncle Johnson: No. It may not be natural, but it is the desire to never want to go.
Cynthia: That's okay. You see him here. I was weak and in need of help, and he was strong and confident. I thought from the bottom of my heart, this is love. Then we stayed with him and I was happy just sitting there watching him. I sat there watching him as much as I could. Just sit quietly, feel safe, and be content. But Harry can never be quiet, even at work, he has to go, talk, and think about all kinds of things. As soon as his book was finished, he said let's go to Africa. I didn't want to move, but I felt instinctively that if I told him that, I would lose a lot. Now he's talking about going somewhere else. I'm starting to get to know him, he never stays in one place and nothing can stop him. If I told him I had a baby, it would be a burden of responsibility to tie him up...I don't want anything of value, trust me, I just want him, a rock I can lean on. So should I tell him now and risk losing him, or wait and see. Or I just get rid of it, maybe...?
Uncle Johnson (moved and embarrassed): Listen to me. Wasn't it enough for me to hunt in Africa with you novices? Are you going to hire me as an old nanny?
She stared at him for a long time.
Cynthia (slowly) Be my Uncle Johnson, friend.
Uncle Johnson: Really?
Cynthia: Really.
Uncle Johnson: Listen to me, I'm a hunter, so I can only tell you what I know: if you run too fast, you trip easily. (Hears Harry coming back) Good night.
HARRY (coming over): They have better horns than this in the museum. There's nothing shameful about a thirty-three-inch long one, though. (Saws Uncle Johnson leaving as he approaches) What's the matter with him?
Cynthia: All right, he went to bed.
Harry: It's still early. I'm so happy.
In a voice-over, Uncle Johnson shouted something to the entourage in Swahili, and the singing stopped.
Harry: I don't know if there will be a good moment like today. (Sits down beside her, goes to get the bottle) A guy wrote it -- a good guy wrote it -- if you love a country and a woman, and love happily, no one else. Can't take it away. Likewise, if we fall in love with many countries and I love my woman in many ways...
Cynthia (begins to say something): Harry...
Harry: Listen, listen carefully. A lullaby, isn't it?
He listened to the sounds around him, and stretched his arms upstairs to stop her.
50. Night grasslands and forests, walking sound of the beast and the sounds of
51. campfire, Harry and Cynthia
Harry: This contains a lot of things. Hunger, love, hatred and fear.
52. The night view of the pieces is
53. campfire, Harry and Cynthia
Cynthia (things children want to simply tell him): ...... Dear
Harry: Do not take it all destroyed. Do not talk.
He held her tighter, and she lowered her head, knowing that at least now she couldn't tell him about the child.
(Into)
54. Africa, Nairobi, during the day, the distant
scene is frozen.
(into)
55. Inside the Nairobi Hotel, during the day, the camera is aimed at a
sign next to the door of a room upstairs that reads: "Edmund Simmons, MD, Physician in the Hotel".
The door opened from the inside, and Cynthia came out. The doctor was an elderly Englishman with a beard. He sent her behind her.
Dr. Simmons: You go to your doctor as soon as you get to Paris. He will affirm what I say to you. You have to stay calm, don't run around, don't get too excited. Maybe that means you'll be in bed most of the time. do you understand?
Cynthia (quietly): Understood.
Dr. Simmons: Some women are like that. But if you really want the baby, it's not a big sacrifice, is it? Do you want me to talk to your husband?
Cynthia (quickly) No, I'll talk to him myself. Thank you, doctor.
Dr. Simmons (watching her go) Good luck.
50. In the hotel corridor, the wide-angle lens
doctor walks back to his room. Cynthia walked up a flight of stairs to the room where she and Harry lived. At this time, a native servant, barefoot and wearing a white cotton "pajamas", happened to walk to the door. He held up a tray with a bottle of whisky and a bottle of water on it.
Cynthia: Give it to me.
The servant smiled, thanked his wife, and Cynthia went into the house.
57. INT. Nairobi hotel room, panorama
Harry is sitting by the wardrobe. Using it as a table, he was studying some guidebooks and presentations while taking notes.
Harry (without looking up): Put it on the table.
Cynthia: Yes. Honey.
He raised his head and smiled.
Harry: Oh, I thought it was...
Cynthia (laughing): On the table, sir.
He walked quickly to her and took a letter from his pocket.
Harry: Look what you got. A letter from the publisher, and a check. (takes check from envelope) Oh, don't get excited. Not much money. That damn book will never sell much. Still, it's a check, and it's all settled.
Cynthia: What's all settled, dear?
Harry: Everything (stop, wake up a little bit) that is... what did the quack doctor say? Is there something to do with Bob? Do you have a fever?
Cynthia: No...
Harry: I said it, it's just because of the weather. (Goes over to pick up his travel items) We can go straight to Madrid. Go see a bullfight, at the Greek bullring in the Prado. Then go to Pomplon, just in time for Carnival.
Cynthia: Dear...
Harry: The best time in the world.
Cynthia: Harry...
Harry: What's the matter?
Cynthia: Can't we just go home?
Harry: Home? Where is home?
She looked at him in surprise.
Harry: Oh, you mean back to Paris, why?
Cynthia: Go home. Harry, honey, we can get an apartment with this check. There is a room for your work. I'm going to buy you a nice lamp and we can live a family life. You don't have to go to Spain, do you?
HARRY (looking at her, puzzled): Yes, honey, I don't have to go to Spain or anywhere else.
Cynthia: You just want to go?
Harry: Cynthia, maybe I sound like a goddamn pretentious academic, but I'm trying to be a writer, and a writer's job is to walk around and discover for yourself what to write about, not to sit comfortably In his easy chair, he reached out and found something from the bookshelf to copy.
Cynthia: And after going to Spain?
Harry: How would I know?
Cynthia: I mean you never want to live another normal life?
Harry: I'm just explaining what my normal life is.
Cynthia: Maybe there will be children?
Harry: Boy!
Cynthia (doing her best effort): I don't want anything else but a baby, honey. I think I have something to attach to.
Harry: Well, yes. I like children. But, later on. We still have time. Listen, Cynthia, the world is a big market where you can buy what you want. Not just with money, but with your time, you can buy a lot of things, which is a kind of exchange. You give up something and you get something. I gave up part of my life to get something I needed for my job. Later I can get what I want. It's that simple.
Cynthia: I see. (she opens the bottle) Would you like some wine?
Harry: Too early, huh?
Cynthia: Seems like the right time to me. Do you object?
Harry: No objection. Listen, dear. If you especially want to go back to Paris, you can go back.
Cynthia (quickly, frightened and hurt): Without you?
Harry: I didn't say I hoped so. I just said you can go back. Maybe, if it's a matter of life and death. Well, I'll go back with you. (silence) I'll exchange tickets.
He turned and walked out of the room gently. Cynthia stood there for a while, terrified. Then, she ran out of the room.
58. Hotel Corridor, Wide Angle, Cynthia
She ran out of the room, ran to the top of the stairs, and called out—
Cynthia: Harry!
59. Photographing the stairs from Cynthia's point of view
Harry disappeared without a trace. All she saw was the stairs, a long line of steps.
60. Cynthia
She stared down at the empty staircase.
(Turns in)
61. EXTERNAL, A hospital in Nairobi, during the day, the
ambulance whistle is heard from the panorama .
62. INTERNATIONAL CORROSION OF A HOSPITAL IN NAirobi, DAY, THE CAMERA IS ON THE
CORRIWAY Harry runs from the end of the corridor to the door of a room on this side. The door opened, Dr. Simmons came out, and Harry stepped forward.
Dr. Simmons: Mr. Street?
Harry: How is she? I heard...
Dr. Simmons: I'm sorry to have to tell you that her baby was lost.
Harry: What fell?
Dr. Simmons: Don't you know? Mr Street?
Harry: What the hell happened? The people in the hotel said something happened to her, but nothing else.
Dr. Simmons: Fell hard enough. She will be fine in a few days off. You really didn't know she had children? Don't you guys talk to each other?
Harry's face sank as he walked past the doctor to the door of the ward.
63. Nairobi hospital ward,
when Harry walked into the room during the day , Cynthia, lying in bed, turned her head away, tears streaming down her cheeks. When he saw her turn away, he stopped by the door. The shutters were drawn, and the room seemed to be lit at dusk.
Harry (quite nonchalantly): You did it on purpose.
Cynthia (dumbly): Purely by accident.
Harry: You did it because of what I said.
Cynthia (dumbly, but stubbornly): It was an accident. I stumbled.
Harry: You have no right to do that. And you didn't tell me. That is my child too.
Cynthia: Stop it, honey.
He walked quickly to the bed and held her in his arms.
Harry: Oh, Sim, dear, little fool.
Cynthia (pause, weeping): Now we can go to the bullfight.
(Into)
64. Exterior, a bullring in Madrid, daytime, bullring, panoramic view of the
bullfighter and their assistants.
Music starts.
(Turns in)
65. Upper stand, panorama, Harry and Cynthia
are walking towards their seats. Cynthia's face was not very good, and her walking was not stable. Harry was trying his best to make both of them happy.
Harry: I got the seat on top of this for this one. Can see more clearly.
Cynthia: It's all up to you, dear.
Harry: From here you can see the whole scene. Maybe you won't feel sick from here.
Cynthia: It looks really strong here.
66. Bullring
The scene was spectacular, but the bullfight had not yet begun.
67. Harry and Cynthia
they sat down. He pulled out his binoculars, adjusted the focus, and got ready to take a good look. Cynthia was nothing like Harry, not ready to appreciate it at all. The reason will be known in a moment.
Cynthia: I don't want to watch them torture those horses. But I promise you I won't throw up this time.
Harry: You close your eyes when the bull rushes to the horse. By the time you understand the whole bullfight, you'll see the fate of those horses as a comedy.
Cynthia, you told me all this.
Harry: But you'd better keep your eyes closed so you don't see the horrific sight of the bull's horns poking into the horse's belly and pulling its guts out.
Cynthia: I also know what it's like to have internal organs.
Harry: You should try to forget it now, dear. It has passed.
Cynthia: Yeah, just close your eyes.
HARRY (trying to change the subject): It's much better now that they put cotton pads on the horses.
Cynthia: I tell you, it won't make me feel bad. As long as you have that telegram in your pocket, dear, nothing else bothers me.
He glanced at her again, and this one was alert.
Harry: What did you say?
Cynthia: That telegram from three days ago. I'm sorry, Harry. Since I'm a housewife, and I've digged your pockets because of the laundry, I don't think there's a secret between the two of us.
Harry, you mean the Hopkins telegram. I should have told you. The bullfight begins.
Cynthia: That telegram that was going to take you away from me.
Harry: Nonsense. Let's talk about this later.
Cynthia: You have to answer him today. I'd rather we talk about it now.
Harry: There will be plenty of time to talk about this later. We came here to watch the bullfight.
Cynthia: Right. We came here to see the massacre.
68. Bullring, the data footage
is in a bullfight. panoramic. intense action.
(into)
69. In a Spanish cafe, the camera moves, and the night
camera pulls back from a dancer. He is young and very beautiful. His dance is full of fiery passion and subtle sensua
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