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.