THE TRUMAN SHOW
A Screen Play
By
Andrew M. Niccol
FADE IN
A white title appears on a black screen.
"One doesn't discover new lands
without consenting to lose sight
of the shore for a very long time."
Andre Gide
The title fades off, replaced by a second title.
"We're all in this alone."
Lily Tomlin
INT. A WOMB. DAY.
A fiber optic camera observes a five-month-old MALE FETUS as he
gently floats, weightless, suspended in the amniotic fluid of
his mother's womb. We focus on the unborn's hand, already a
tiny, exquisite work of art, moving towards his newly formed
lips. He sucks his thumb.
INT. HOSPITAL - DELIVERY ROOM. DAY.
A seconds old BABY BOY - umbilical cord still attached,
smeared with blood and protective skin grease - is held up
by an anonymous pair of latex gloves to the camera. Shocked by
the unaccustomed light and cool of the delivery room, the
newborn fights for his first, arduous breath. Following almost
immediately, a cry.
From another angle we see the crying infant on a television
screen, the individual lines of the screen clearly visible.
MATCH DISSOLVE TO
INT. CAR - UTOPIA, QUEENS. MORNING.
The face of the baby thirty-four years later, still crying.
TRUMAN BURBANK, thinning hair, a body going soft around the
edges, appearing older than his thirty-four years sits at the
wheel of his eight-year-old Oldsmobile Cutlass Supreme. He
cries without shame, making no attempt to wipe away the tears.
Pausing at an intersection in a quiet, working-class suburban
street, a spherical glass object suddenly falls from the sky and
lands with a deafening crash on the roadway, several yards in
front of his idling car.
Truman exits the Oldsmobile to investigate. Amidst a sea of
shattered glass are the remains of a light mechanism.
He looks around him but the street is deserted. He checks that
all the surrounding streetlights are accounted for, even though
the fallen fixture is far larger. He looks up into the sky but
there is no plane in sight. With some effort, Truman picks up
what's left of the crumpled light, loads it into the trunk of
his car and drives away.
INT. CAR - TRAIN STATION PARKING LOT. MORNING.
TRUMAN sits behind the wheel of his car, unscrews the cap of
a miniature bottle of Jack Daniels and empties the contents into
his Styrofoam cup of coffee. Stirring it in with his finger, he
burns himself.
TRUMAN
Shit!
As Truman drinks, he becomes aware of the delighted squeals of
children coming from the gymnasium of Utopia Elementary School,
adjacent to the parking lot. The sound of the children triggers
a memory in his head.
EXT. LONG, WIDE BEACH. DAY, TWENTY-SEVEN YEARS EARLIER.
Unlike a conventional flashback, the scene in his memory appears
to be playing on a television screen.
A sandy-haired, SEVEN-YEAR-OLD TRUMAN, runs towards a bluff on
the beach.
The boy's father, KIRK, late-thirties, beer bottle in hand,
flirts with two TEENAGE GIRLS at the shoreline. Suddenly, the
father remembers his son. He looks anxiously around. The sight
of the boy at the far end of the beach causes him to drop his
bottle in the sand and run to him.
The boy is near the top of the cliff before his agitated father
comes within earshot.
FATHER
(out of breath, clutching his side)
Truman! Truman! Stop!
Truman turns from his perch and waves happily down to his
father. But the smile quickly vanishes when he registers the
anger and distress on his father's face.
FATHER
Come down now!
His father's unnatural anxiety makes the next bay even more
tantalizing. The boy considers defying his father. He puts
his hand on the rock above him to stretch up and sneak a peek at
the other side. One good stretch would do it.
FATHER
(reading Truman's mind, enraged)
No!
TRUMAN
(sensing his father is keeping
something from him)
Why? What's there?
FATHER
(unconvincing)
Nothing's there. It's the same as this.
(trace of desperation)
Come down, please!
Truman is suddenly aware that the hundreds of other BEACHGOERS
have stopped their activities to stare at him. Reluctantly
he starts to retrace his steps down the rocks. When he finally
jumps to the sand, his father grabs him roughly by the arm and
drags him away down the beach.
FATHER
I told you to stay close. Don't ever leave
my sight again. You gotta know your
limitations. You could've been washed
away by the tide.
EXT. LOWER MANHATTAN, FINANCIAL DISTRICT. MORNING.
TRUMAN emerges from a subway exit in Lower Manhattan and walks
briskly down the bustling street. A snarl of taxis, buses and
COMMUTER traffic. A STREET VENDOR thrusts a pretzel under
Truman's nose, a CAREER WOMAN catches his eye.
Truman stops at a newspaper stand and plucks an issue of
Cosmopolitan from the rack, quickly flicking through the glossy
pages. Glancing in the direction of the NEWSPAPER VENDOR and
finding him busy with another customer, Truman deftly tears a
portion of the open page and pockets the cutting.
He guiltily replaces the magazine, startled to find the
Newspaper Vendor standing close behind him.
TRUMAN
(quickly recovering)
Gimme a copy of "The Sydney Morning Herald".
VENDOR
We ran out.
TRUMAN
(hastily departing)
Thanks anyway.
As Truman hurries away, the Vendor picks up the copy of Cosmo
and instantly turns to the torn page. It is a Lancome
advertisement with ISABELLA ROSSELLINI's nose missing.
Truman is still in view but the Vendor makes no effort to
confront him, almost as if he were expecting it.
Passing one of the tall, black mirrored buildings that grow
out of the pavement, Truman glimpses himself in the reflective
glass. He doesn't like what he sees and attempts to suck in his
gut, but quickly concedes defeat. The image triggers another
childhood memory.
INT. SCHOOLROOM. DAY, TWENTY-SEVEN YEARS EARLIER.
Once again, the flashback appears to be playing on a television
screen.
The sandy-haired SEVEN-YEAR-OLD TRUMAN sits in the middle row of
a Catholic Elementary School classroom surrounded by thirty-or-
so other well-scrubbed, uniformed YOUNGSTERS. DOUGLAS, the boy
next to Truman is on his feet under the scrutiny of a sixty-
year-old NUN with a face as wrinkled as her habit is starched.
DOUGLAS
I wanna be a chiropractor like my dad.
SISTER
(impressed)
Tell the class what a chiropractor does,
Douglas.
DOUGLAS
He helps people by fixing their backs,
Sister Olivia.
SISTER
That's right, Douglas.
(holding her back, hamming it up)
Perhaps I'll be your first patient.
The CLASS titters. Douglas sits down, pleased with himself,
throwing a smirk to Truman.
SISTER
What about you, Truman?
Truman rises to his feet.
TRUMAN
I want to be an explorer
(with reverence)
...like Magellan.
The Sister's face falls.
SISTER
No one's going to pay you to do that,
Truman.
(with scarcely disguised glee)
Besides, you're too late. There's
nothing left to explore.
The class roars with laughter and Truman takes his seat.
EXT. LOWER MANHATTAN, FINANCIAL DISTRICT. MORNING.
From TRUMAN'S POV we see that he is staring up at relief
letters that proclaim, "American Life & Accident Insurance,
Inc." above an office building's entrance.
A POLICE OFFICER walking his beat, wanders in Truman's
direction. From another angle, we observe Truman from the
Police Officer's POV - shaky, handheld camera - on a television
screen. Truman enters the building.
INT. INSURANCE COMPANY - TWELFTH FLOOR. DAY.
In a cramped, cluttered, windowless cubicle, TRUMAN talks on
the telephone.
TRUMAN
(into receiver)
...okay, okay, let's call it what it is...
I'm not gonna lie to you...life insurance
is death insurance...you just gotta ask
yourself two questions...one, in the event
of your death, will anyone experience
financial loss?...and two, do you care?
A CLERK drops a large reference book on Truman's desk. He
checks the spine - "MORTALITY STATISTICS, 1986 to Present".
TRUMAN
(into receiver)
Hold on will ya?
(to Clerk, putting receiver
to chest, referring to the book)
This's no good. Lumps all drownings
together. I need drownings broken down
by category.
The Clerk shrugs, returns the book to his trolley and continues
his rounds.
TRUMAN
(returning to his call)
...just think about what I've been
saying and lemme...hello?...
The person on the other end has hung up. With an apathetic
shrug, Truman replaces the receiver. He looks over his shoulder
and places another call.
TRUMAN
(lowering his voice)
Can you connect me with directory
inquiries in Sydney, Australia?
(a long delay makes Truman
even more uncomfortable)
...er, yes. Do you have a listing
for a Lauren Powers...
(pause)
...nothing listed?...what about a Sylvia
Powers...nothing? Thanks...
Truman replaces the receiver, disappointed.
INT. LOCAL ITALIAN DELI. LUNCHTIME.
TRUMAN stands in line with a crush of other WHITE COLLAR
WORKERS. As he reaches the counter, the store owner, TYRONE,
has anticipated his order and ahs already begun preparing a
meatball and mozzarella sandwich on Italian roll. Truman gazes
at the sandwich skillfully under construction, pained by his own
predictability.
TYRONE
(nauseatngly cheerful)
How's it goin', Truman?
TRUMAN
(deadpan)
Not bad. I just won the State Lottery.
TYRONE
(not listening to Truman's
reply, as Truman anticipated)
Good. Good.
TRUMAN
Tyrone, what if I said I didn't want meatball today?
TYRONE
(not missing a beat)
I'd ask for identification.
Truman forces a half-smile.
We focus on another MALE OFFICE WORKER in line at the cash
register, watching Truman out of the corner of his eye. About
to depart with his sandwich, the man receives a guarded rebuke
from the FEMALE CASHIER.
FEMALE CASHIER
(a whisper to prevent Truman overhearing)
He's right there. You're supposed to pay
when he's here.
MALE CUSTOMER
(nonchalant shrug as he departs)
He never notices.
We re-focus our attention on Truman who is taking the wrapped
sandwich from Tyrone.
TYRONE
Hold on, Truman. I got somethin' to show ya.
Tyrone holds up a front page of the New York Post that
features a photograph of a scaled-down replica of Columbus'
Santa Maria, moored in front of the Manhattan skyline. Truman's
eyes widen at the photograph.
TYRONE
(referring to the photo)
The flagship of Christoforo...our Genoese
navigator, huh? I know you love this like me.
TRUMAN
(averting his eyes with difficulty)
Not me. You got the wrong man.
Tyrone tries not to let his disappointment show as Truman pays
the Cashier and exits.
TYRONE
See ya tomorrow, Truman.
EXT. CITY PARK. DAY.
TRUMAN eats lunch alone on a concrete bench in a cement park.
From his briefcase he pulls out an old hardcovered book, "To The
Ends Of The Earth - The Age Of Exploration".
A TRANSIENT in a wheelchair approaches, looking for a handout.
Truman gives the homeless man half of his sandwich, reconsiders
and gives him it all, his appetite gone. As the transient
wheels himself away, Truman loses himself in his book.
INT. A DIMLY-LIT ROOM SOMEWHERE. DAY.
Close up on an old man's face. CHRISTOF. Hair pure white,
late-sixties, a vitality in his eyes that belies his years.
He stands beside a floor-to-ceiling window in a dimly-lit room.
Outside the window, a single palm tree swaying against a deep
blue Californian sky. A news anchor-style earpiece disappears
down the neck of the unconventionally-cut suit he wears.
Suspended from the ceiling above his head is a television
monitor upon which a surveillance picture of Truman, engrossed
in his book, silently plays.
CHLOE, twenty-something, androgenous-looking, similarly-suited,
joins Christof at the window.
CHRISTOF
(never taking his eyes
from the monitor)
You ever pass a car wreck on the side of the
road? They're pulling out a body. You know
you shouldn't look, but you do.
INT. A CONFERENCE ROOM SOMEWHERE. DAY.
A group of a dozen MEN and WOMEN of varying ages sit around
a circular conference table in a sterile, windowless meeting
room. All stare at a single telephone placed in the center of
the table, anticipating a call. On cue, the phone rings and one
of the men, after waiting for the second ring, picks up.
MAN
Hello?...I'm sorry, I got more than enough
insurance.
He hangs up. After a moment the phone rings again.
INT. INSURANCE COMPANY. DAY.
TRUMAN sits at his desk, making a cold call.
TRUMAN
(into receiver)
...this isn't about insurance, this is
about the great variable - when will
death occur? Could be a week, a month,
a year. Could happen today...A sunbather,
minding his own business, gets stabbed in
the heart by the tip of a runaway beach
umbrella...No way you can guard against
that kinda thing, no way at all...
The prospect on the other end, unimpressed with his pitch, hangs
up. Truman's supervisor, LAWRENCE, younger than Truman by
several years, sharper suit, sharper haircut, appears around the
corner of the cubicle.
LAWRENCE
(handing Truman some documentation)
Hey, Burbank, I got a bridge-buyer in
Stapleton I need you to cloes by four.
Truman turns pale.
TRUMAN
Stapleton on Staten Island?
LAWRENCE
(sarcastic)
You know another one?
TRUMAN
I can't do it.
LAWRENCE
(insistent)
A half hour across the bay. Sea air. Do
you good.
TRUMAN
No, I...
(searching for a plausible excuse)
...I got an appointment uptown.
LAWRENCE
This is a sure thing.
(conspiratorial)
They're upping our quota. You need this.
Lawrence exits the cubicle. Truman's head drops. He picks up
the framed picture of his wife from his desk. MERYL, early
thirties, a petite woman easy to mistake for frail. He deposits
the photo in his briefcase and departs.
INT. MUNICIPAL FERRY TERMINAL. DAY.
TRUMAN, briefcase in hand, ashen-faced, stands in line for the
Staten Island ferry.
As the TOURISTS and COMMUTERS impatiently brush past him onto
the boat, Truman remains frozen to the spot, mesmerized by the
scummy water rising and falling beneath the dock, triggering
a flashback in his head.
EXT. LONG ISLAND SOUND. DUSK, TWENTY-SEVEN YEARS EARLIER.
The flashback once again appearing an a television screen, the
SEVEN-YEAR-OLD TRUMAN sits alongside his father, KIRK, in a
small sailing dinghy.
TRUMAN
(shouting above the wind)
Let's go further, daddy! Let's go further!
FATHER
(shouting back)
It's getting late, Truman.
TRUMAN
(entreating his father)
Please!...
Kirk shakes his head ruefully and indulges his son by heading
towards the gathering storm clouds on the horizon.
INT. MUNICIPAL FERRY TERMINAL. DAY.
TRUMAN turns and begins to fight his way back against the tide
of PASSENGERS boarding the ferry, emerging back on the street
into the bright sunlight, gasping for air.
Gathering himself, he makes for the entrance of Whitehall Street
subway station. Two COMMUTERS surrepticiously observe Truman as
he departs.
COMMUTER 1
(commenting out of Truman's earshot)
I can't believe he's taking the long way.
COMMUTER 2
He'll never make it.
INT. SUBWAY TRAIN. DAY.
TRUMAN stands in a packed subway car, anxiously glancing at his
watch, wiping his perspiring hairline with a hankerchief.
INT. TAXI. DAY.
A taxi crosses the Verrazano-Narrows Bridge towards Staten
Island. TRUMAN keeps his eyes shut tight all the way across.
refusing to look down at the entrance to New York harbor.
EXT. BAY STREET, STATEN ISLAND. DAY.
TRUMAN finally reaches his destination at a well-to-do
condominium on Bay Street. As he approaches the lobby, he
realizes he has perspiration showing through the armpits of his
suit jacket.
INT. CONDOMINIUM. DAY.
A middle-aged CONCIERGE behind a reception desk, is having his
hair brushed by a YOUNGER MAN in his mid-thirties. Anticipating
Truman's arrival, the hairdresser fusses one more time and
swiftly departs through a rear door. TRUMAN enters the lobby
and approaches the CONCIERGE, trying to keep his arms tightly at
his sides to hide the perspiration.
TRUMAN
I'm here to see a Mr Hamilton.
CONCIERGE
You from the insurance company? You missed him.
TRUMAN
When will he be back?
CONCIERGE
Vacation. Two months. He waited as long as
he could. You was supposed to be here by four.
A clock on the wall reads 4.l2pm.
INT. SUBWAY. AFTERNOON.
TRUMAN sits by himself in the rattling subway car, defeated.
The only other occupants in the train, a TALL WOMAN, mid-
thirties, reading a pulp novel and two MALE YOUTHS, late-teens,
sitting opposite the woman, slouching, ogling her.
YOUTH 1
(to woman)
You wanna read to me?
His companion smirks.
YOUTH 1
(more insistent)
You wannna read to me?
The woman looks up, unaware of the boys' presence until now.
She quickly avoids eye contact and returns to the book. The
other boy reaches over and snatches the novel from her grasp.
YOUTH 2
(menacing)
My friend asked you a question.
The woman picks up her bag from the floor in a reflex and
holds it to her. She looks around the train for assistance,
briefly catching Truman's eye. The youths also look in
Truman's direction, staring him down, daring him to interfere.
Truman quickly averts his gaze.
WOMAN
(reaching for the book)
Please...
The boy returns the book to the woman, but before doing so rips
out the last page from the novel and stuffs it in his shirt
pocket.
YOUTH 2
Now you're gonna have to ask me how it ends.
The train pulls into a deserted station. Feeling vulnerable,
the woman jumps up from her seat and exits. The youths, sensing
a chase, also exit. Scanning the empty platform, the woman
realizes she has made a serious error. Truman watches through
the train's open door as the boys corner the frightened woman
but still he remains in his seat.
YOUTH 1
We're gonna tell you how it ends, baby.
One of the youths produces a knife from his pocket and waves it
in the woman's face.
YOUTH 2
Don't you wanna know how it ends?
The boys pin the woman to the station wall with the weight of
their bodies. The woman looks again in Truman's direction.
Again she makes eye contact, eyes pleading.
WOMAN
(screams)
Help!! Please, help!!
The woman's second scream is muffled as the train door closes.
Truman looks up to the emergency handle beside the door. There
is still time to act. He stands up and half-reaches for the
handle but moves no further.
The train abruptly pulls away, leaving Truman time to see one of
the youths covering the woman's mouth while the other reaches
under her skirt before the train enters the tunnel. Truman bows
his head in shame as the train rattles on.
INT. SUBWAY STATION. DAY.
The train safely out of sight, the YOUTHS promptly release the
WOMAN. She calmly hitches down her skirt, no longer afraid.
The young men, no longer angry, help fix her hair and retrieve
her shoulder bag.
WOMAN
Thanks.
The threesome walk along the platform together, as if lifelong
friends.
WOMAN
(pondering the incident)
He did nothing.
YOUTH 1
(shrugs, suddenly more couth)
Physical violence paralyzes him. Always
has.
EXT. TRUMAN'S HOUSE. DUSK.
The backyard of a modest but tidy one-story tract home. Beyond
the plank fence at the end of the property flows a busy
Expressway.
TRUMAN wheels a lawnmower towards the garage as his wife, MERYL,
pulls up the drive in her four-year-old Toyota Camry. She has a
sensible blue vinyl bag over her shoulder and carries a new
knife-set in a wooden block. She kisses Truman affectionately
on the cheek.
MERYL
(proudly referring to the knife-set)
I got it free with the tune-up.
Looking over Truman's shoulder, she notices a small uncut patch
of grass, missed by Truman in one of his passes.
MERYL
You missed a section.
Meryl enters the house. Truman restarts the lawnmower and
obediantly pushes it towards the offending patch of lawn. As
the mower brushes up against the unconforming blades of grass,
Truman pulls back abruptly. He checks the kitchen window for
Meryl and wheels the mower away, leaving the patch uncut.
INT. TRUMAN'S HOUSE - KITCHEN. DAY.
MERYL is applying ointment to her wrists as TRUMAN enters.
TRUMAN
(referring to her hands)
Do they hurt?
MERYL
I was afraid I'd seize up during cross.
One of the keys kept sticking.
Truman picks up Meryl's newspaper and skims idly through it. He
notes an article headlined, "SLAYING TRIAL ENTERS SIXTH WEEK".
TRUMAN
(referring to the article)
Is he gonna take the stand?
MERYL
(dispassionate, matter-of-fact)
No point. Two eye witnesses saw him
near the dumpster where they found the legs.
She flexes her arthritic wrists.
MERYL
You gonna eat before you leave?
TRUMAN
I'll get something out.
MERYL
(sensing something odd
in his demeanor)
Did something happen today?
Truman turns to her too sharply, his guilt showing.
TRUMAN
(composing himself)
What could happen?
EXT. UNOPENED FREEWAY. NIGHT.
An abandoned freeway project in Queens. The four hundred yard
stretch of deserted freeway is paved but unmarked. At one end
is an off-ramp that abruptly ends in inid-air, reinforcing steel
protuding from the concrete.
TRUMAN stands at the end of the off-ramp with MARLON, thirty-
two, the kind of physique some descibe as fat, others big.
Marlon drinks beer from a can while Truman addresses a teed-up
golf ball with a number three wood.
Truman winds up and swings, making a healthy contact with the
ball. The ball arches away into the night sky, lit by the
adjacent operating roadway. From a new angle we see the ball
take a huge hop on the outside lane of the abandoned freeway and
continue down the asphalt.
Marlon tosses Truman another ball from a bucket of badly scarred
golf balls - a ball initialed with the letter, "T". Truman sets
the ball up on the makeshift tee area and launches himself into
his second shot. With a slight fade, the second ball carries
even further than the first.
Truman hands Marlon their sole golf club without comment.
Marlon is still looking admiringly in the direction of the shot.
MARLON
Ouch. Whose nuts were those?
TRUMAN
(opening a beer from the six pack)
Mine.
Marlon tees up a ball of his own. initialed with the letter "M".
TRUMAN
I gotta get out, Marlon.
MARLON
(mild interest only)
Yeah? Outta what?
TRUMAN
Outta my job, outta Queens...out!
Marlon takes a practise swing.
MARLON
Outta your job? What the hell's wrong
with your job? You gotta great job.
You gotta desk job. I'd kill for a desk
job.
Marlon addresses the ball and swings. A sweeping hook shot
that bounces off the freeway out of bounds.
MARLON
(annoyed by the errant tee shot)
Sonofabitch.
TRUMAN
It doesn't mean anything.
MARLON
(still looking in the
direction of his ball)
Nothing means anything. Try stocking vending
machines for a living. My biggest decision
of the day is whether the Almond Joys look
better next to the Snickers or the Baby Ruths.
Truman selects another "M" ball from the bucket and tosses it to
Marlon.
TRUMAN
(adamant)
I gotta get out.
Overcompensating with his second shot, Marlon slices the ball in
the other direction. A lucky bounce keeps it on the cement
fairway.
MARLON
(skeptical, picking up his beer)
Sure and go where?
Truman gulps his beer as he prepares his answer.
TRUMAN
(unable to disguise his reverence)
Australia.
MARLON
(impressed)
No shit. Where is Australia exactly?
Near England?
Truman picks up a golf ball to demonstrate. He points to a
dimple on his make-shift globe.
TRUMAN
See here, this is Queens.
(sliding his finger around
the other side of the ball)
All the way round here, Australia. You
can't get any further away before you start
coming back.
(tossing the world in his hand,
warming to his subject)
Y'know, there're still places in Australia
where no human being has ever set foot.
MARLON
(still dubious)
So when are you leaving?
TRUMAN
It's not that simple. Takes money, planning.
You can't just up and go.
(heading off Marlon's skepticism)
Oh, I'm gonna do it, don't worry about
that. I just gotta move slow. Pick a
moment. Bonus time's just around the
corner. Soon as I get a retaining wall
built on the back of the house I can
start thinking about selling up...and I'll be
gone. Up and away on that big steel bird.
(as if to convince himself)
I'm going, don't you worry about that.
Marlon nods even though the concept of taking flight is beyond
his imagination.
MARLON
I never knew anybody who got out.
An awkward moment. Truman, once again, not so sure of himself.
He masks his doubt by teeing up another ball.
DISSOLVE TO
EXT. FREEWAY. LATER THAT NIGHT.
TRUMAN and MARLON wander down the empty freeway, retrieving
the golf balls. As they return them to the bucket they check
the initial on each ball to determine the winner of their
long-drive competition.
TRUMAN
(slightly the worse for drink)
Tick-fucking-tock. That's the fucking
problem, Marlon. I'm thirty-four. I'm
older than Jesus Christ.
Marlon looks sideways at Truman. It sounds to him like the beer
talking.
TRUMAN
Where do the dreams go, Marlon?
MARLON
(picking up the last ball marked with an
initial "T", trying to ignore the question)
You win.
TRUMAN
I'm serious. Where do the dreams go?
MARLON
(humoring his maudlin friend)
They're still there. Just buried under what
we settled for.
They approach Truman's Oldsmobile. Truman opens the trunk to
deposit their humble golfing equipment. Inside are the remains
of the fallen light fixture.
TRUMAN
(referring to the light)
You really think it could've dropped off an
airliner?
MARLON
(unimpressed)
Sure. It's halogen. You oughta report it.
(quickly changing the subject)
You coming for a drink?
TRUMAN
I can't tonight.
EXT. EATON'S NECK POINT. DUSK, TWENTY-SEVEN YEARS EARLIER.
The lines of a television screen signal another of Truman's
flashbacks. A small group of MOURNERS in black, several openly
weeping, stand on the end of a small jetty, including the SEVEN-
YEAR-OLD TRUMAN, dry-eyed in an ill-fitting suit, his weeping
MOTHER, older sister, RAQUEL, and a PRIEST at the head of the
gathering.
The priest nods to Truman who holds an ornate wreath, heavy and
cumbersome in his tiny hands. He heaves it off the dock.
MATCH DISSOLVE TO
EXT. EATON'S NECK POINT, LONG ISLAND. NIGHT, PRESENT.
A smaller, more simple wreath lands on the calm, dark water
beyond the jetty twenty-seven years later. TRUMAN stares at the
wreath for a long moment, turns and wanders back towards the
shoreline.
In his work suit minus his shoes and socks, he sits on the sand.
He has a portable tape recorder slung over his shoulder and
points a corded microphone at the surf. For a long while we
watch Truman's impassive face as he makes the recording of the
lapping waves, staring up at the handful of stars visible
through the gloom.
We focus on the lantern room of a nearby lighthouse. From the
light's POV, through the green hue of a night vision camera, we
observe Truman get to his feet and walk towards the dark water.
TRUMAN
(shouting at the surf)
I'm sorry! I'm sorry!
INT. DIMLY-LIT ROOM SOMEWHERE. NIGHT.
CHRISTOF's dispassionate face is reflected in the screen of a
television monitor that displays the distraught TRUMAN at the
water's edge.
INT. TRUMAN'S HOUSE. NIGHT.
At the Formica kitchen table, TRUMAN makes calculations in a
school notebook, a bottle of beer close at hand. MERYL appears
in her robe, a glimpse of black negligee beneath, restless. She
throws her arms around Truman's neck.
MERYL
(suggestive)
What are you doing? Come to bed.
TRUMAN
(ignoring the suggestion)
I figure we could scrape together eight
thousand.
MERYL
(suddenly exasperated)
Oh. God, everytime you and Marlon--
TRUMAN
--We could bum around the world for a year
on that.
MERYL
And then what, Truman? We'd be back to
where we were five years ago. You're talking
like a teenager.
TRUMAN
Maybe I feel like a teenager.
Getting to his feet. Truman holds Meryl by the arms, talking
excitedly to her the way we imagine he did when they were
courting.
TRUMAN
Meryl, it'd be an adventure.
MERYL
We said we'd try for a baby. Isn't that
enough of an adventure?
TRUMAN
That can wait. I want to get away. See
some of the world. Explore.
Meryl gives a derisive laugh.
MERYL
You want to be an explorer? You mean like
all the other great explorers from Queens?
You don't even have a passport, Truman. I
bet you don't even know how to get one.
The words sting. Truman turns away.
Seeing the pain she's caused, she changes tack.
MERYL
This'll pass. Everybody thinks like this
now and then.
(making one more attempt
at seduction)
Come to bed.
EXT. A NIGHTWATCHMAN'S OFFICE SOMEWHERE. NIGHT.
In a nightwatchman's office, two UNIFORMED GUARDS drink coffee.
GUARD 1
How can they have a child?
GUARD 2
It's not gonna be his, you idiot.
GUARD 1
Why not?
GUARD 2
You think she'd go through with it?
(reassessing his own opinion)
Guess I always thought they'd adopt.
INT. TRUMAN'S HOUSE - BEDROOM. NIGHT.
TRUMAN stands in the darkened bedroom in his Hanes underwear
looking down at his bed. MERYL has fallen asleep waiting for
him, snoring lightly. Truman rests his hand tentatively on the
bed. The surface rocks. A waterbed. The motion triggers a
flashback in his head.
EXT. LONG ISLAND SOUND. DAWN, TWENTY-SEVEN YEARS EARLIER.
As always the flashback appears to play on a television screen.
The SEVEN-YEAR-OLD TRUMAN sits on the upturned hull of a small
dinghy in calm, deep water.
TRUMAN
(plaintively calling into the mist)
Daddy!!...Daddy!!...
His cries go unanswered.
INT. A LIVING ROOM SOMEWHERE. NIGHT.
Two OLD WOMEN, seventies, sit beside wach other on a sofa
against a bare wall, looking directly into camera as they
talk. Nothing else of the room is seen.
OLD WOMAN 1
(playing amateur psychiatrist)
It left him with more than his obvious fear
of the water. It's as if he felt his father
had gone beyond his limitations and he vowed
never to repeat the mistake. He was never
the same curious little boy again.
OLD WOMAN 2
We're all born with a pound of cocaine
up our nose. By the time we're eleven
it runs out.
OLD WOMAN 1
Half the people I knew named their
babies after him.
EXT. LOWER MANHATTAN. MORNING.
TRUMAN emerges from the subway station and as usual stops at the
newspaper stand. He picks up a copy of Vogue and flips through
the glossy cosmetic ads, surreptitiously tearing CLAUDIA
SCHIFFER's nose from one of the pages. He returns the magazine
to the rack and begins his daily pilgrimage to work through the
rush hour pedestrian traffic.
Pausing to check his profile in the mirrored building, he
glimpses the reflection of a HOMELESS MAN standing directly
behind him. Truman, spellbound by the man, suddenly wheels
around to face him. The Homeless Han is in his late-sixties.
more well-groomed and well-fed than the average vagrant, with a
serene smile on his face.
From a new angle we see a two-shot of Truman and the Man on a
television screen. The Homeless Man places his hand ever so
gently on Truman's cheek. Truman makes no effort to withdraw.
He is transfixed by the the man's eyes. He appears to recognize
him.
TRUMAN
(almost to himself, mouthing
the word)
Daddy...
Suddenly a distinguished OLD WOMAN walking a small dog and a
YOUNG MALE BUSINESS EXECUTIVE carrying a briefcase, walking in
opposite directions along the sidewalk, grab the Homeless Man,
one taking each arm.
A bus suddenly screeches to a halt beside the struggling group,
doors already open, and before Truman can react, the Old Woman
and the Young Executive force the Homeless Man onto the bus.
Truman lurches after them, but he is met by the bus doors,
closing sharply in his face.
TRUMAN
(to BUS DRIVER)
Hey, stop! Stop!!
Truman thumps against the doors, but the BUS DRIVER ignores his
cries and the bus roars away from the curb. He starts to run
after the bus, colliding with several PEDESTRIANS who make no
attempt to avoid him.
Stepping blindly into the street, he tries to hail a taxi.
A vacant cab suddenly switches off its "FOR HIRE" light as he
reaches it. Truman pleads with the TAXI DRIVER through the
closed windows and locked doors of the cab but the driver is
apparently oblivious to Truman's shouts.
Frantic, Truman, dashes into a nearby parking structure and
grabs a bunch of car keys from the key rack of the unsupervised
parking attendant's kiosk. Running along the rows of parked
cars, Truman desperately presses the car security buttons
attached to the key rings
A car alarm chirps and Truman turns in time to see the car's
winking sidelights. He jumps inside a brand new BMW and guns
the car. The PARKING ATTENDANT, alerted by the squealing tires,
appears from the Men's Room and attempts to wave Truman down.
ATTENDANT
(running after the car)
Hey!
Truman ignores the attendant and accelerates into the street
without looking, causing a taxi and a postal van to take
evasive action.
Catching sight of the bus in the distance, Truman leans on the
car's horn as he recklessly weaves past other motorists. He is
only a couple of car-lengths from the bus.
TRUMAN
(reading aloud, the
ID number of the bus)
Two, four, oh, six.
Suddenly the taxis and cars directly in front of him start to
slow for no apparent reason. Truman looks for a way around
but the cars crab across the street, blocking any passage,
working together almost as if they are running interference.
TRUMAN
(shouting at the cars)
Outta the way! Outta the way!
The bus is escaping.
Truman suddenly jumps the sidewalk in the car, scattering
PEDESTRIANS.
The same cars on the street that seemed intent on slowing his
progress suddenly accelerate in unison, anticipating his move.
By the time Truman reaches the end of the sidewalk, the cars are
clustered together on the corner in an impenetrable jam. Truman
spies the bus turn the corner at the far end of the street and
disappear from view.
Fumbling with the gear stick. he finally finds reverse but turns
to find a hostile group of PEDESTRIANS herded tightly together
behind the car, leaving Truman with nowhere left to go.
The car door is suddenly jerked open and the out-of-breath
PARKING ATTENDANT yanks Truman from the driver's seat.
ATTENDANT
What the fuck are you trying to pull?!
TRUMAN
(cowering, the fight instantly
gone out of him)
I'm sorry! I'm sorry! No harm done!
No harm done!
ATTENDANT
(feverishly inspecting the
fenders for dents, he finds none)
I oughta fuck you up!
The Attendant looks into Truman's terrified eyes. They get
the better of him.
ATTENDANT
Get the fuck outta here.
The Attendant shoves Truman's briefcase into his arms and
brushes him aside. As he departs, Truman notices that the
traffic jam in the street and the mysterious crowd of
pedestrians has dissolved.
EXT. BUS DEPOT. DAY.
Row after row of parked buses. TRUMAN and MARLON exit an
administration office. Instead of heading for the exit, Truman
begins marching down the first row of buses, inspecting the
number painted on the rear of each one.
MARLON
What're you doing?
(gesturing to the office)
The man told you there's no such bus.
TRUMAN
He's lying. Two, four, oh, six was
definitely the number.
Marlon stops walking. Truman continues his inspection. Seeing
there is no reasoning with him, Marlon hurries to catch him up.
TRUMAN
I never believed he was dead.
MARLON
(trying to be patient)
C'mon, Truman, a lotta times they don't find
a body. You know what the currents are like
in that water.
TRUMAN
(shudders, a memory
flashing in his head)
You had to see his face when that wave hit.
He wasn't scared Marion. It was like he
was expecting it, waiting for it. He
knew it was coming.
MARLON
Why would he fake it?
(trying to make light)
He's not Elvis Presley.
TRUMAN
(ignoring the joke, pondering
the morning's events)
You know what was really strange about today?
An old woman with a little dog and a
businessman, walking in opposite directions
on the sidewalk, both react like clockwork.
They force him onto a bus against his will,
a bus that doesn't normally stop outside
my building. And when I'm giving chase, the
bus never makes another stop and I get the
feeling that the traffic and the pedestrians
are working together to make sure I never
catch up with it.
MARLON
(sarcastic)
Oh, so now it's also the pedestrians and
the buses and the cars? What are you
saying, the entire population of Lower
Manhattan is conspiring to stop you finding
out that your father staged his death to
pursue a life as a street person? Oh yeah,
that makes sense.
Truman has no answer. We see an aerial shot of Truman and
Marlon on a television screen, continuing to check the rows of
buses, Marlon still marveling at Truman's obstinance. They
have come to the last bus in the final row. Truman hangs his
head. The offending bus is not amongst them. He makes towards
the exit without comment and Marlon follows.
Unseen by the pair, we focus on the ID number on one of the
buses they have previously checked - "2400". A single drip of
black paint trickles off the last freshly painted digit.
EXT. MANHATTAN STREET. DAY.
TRUMAN and MARLON, drinking beer, sit in the rear doorway of
Marion's delivery van, wholesale-sized boxes of candy stacked
behind them.
TRUMAN
You think I imagined it, don't you?
MARLON
I think you're missing your dad.
(trying to be delicate)
The anniversary was yesterday, wasn't it?
Truman is surprised Marlon remembered. Marlon nods to the
sidewalk.
MARLON
You got sand in your cuffs.
Truman looks down at his feet. A small, tell-tale pile of sand
has poured out of his tight trouser cuff.
TRUMAN
Maybe you're right. If only the old
woman hadn't left her dog behind.
We see a flashback in Truman's head of the earlier scene in the
Lower Manhattan street. It confirms that the old woman's DOG
was abandoned on the sidewalk.
INT. TRUMAN'S MOTHER'S APARTMENT, QUEENS. DAY.
TRUMAN stands in the corridor of his mother's cramped, fussy.
doilyed apartment with his older sister, RAQUEL, late forties,
prematurely grey. Through a doorway, the figure of his MOTHER
is visible asleep in bed, despite the early hour. Truman and
Raquel speak in hushed tones to avoid waking her.
RAQUEL
Don't you dare go in. Truman. I just
got her off to sleep.
TRUMAN
It was Dad. I swear.
Raquel fixes Truman with a contemptuous stare.
RAQUEL
Well, the next time he shows up. bring
him over. Until then, I'm not saying a
word about this to Mom and neither are you.
TRUMAN
If it wasn't him, it was his twin. Can you
think of a reason he'd want to hide from us?
RACQUEL
I know a reason he'd want to hide from you.
Look at how you treat us. You live ten minutes
away, we hardly see you from year to year and
then you turn up with this story so insane you
don't even believe it yourself. Haven't you
hurt her enough, Truman? She already blames you.
TRUMAN
(incredulous)
I was seven years old!
RAQUEL
But you're here and he's not. Has it really taken you
this long to invent a story to ease your conscience?
TRUMAN
I'm telling you he's alive!
RAQUEL
(snapping back bitterly)
And I'm telling you he's fish food!
Truman meets her unforgiving eyes. Without another word, he
walks out of the apartment.
Truman safely departed, the figure in the bed, rolls out.
CHRISTOF, fully clothed, relishing the danger of being so close
to Truman without being detected. Raquel's demeanor immediately
changes, all trace of bitterness gone from her face, she appears
younger, posture more upright, almost a different person.
Christof hugs Raquel.
CHRISTOF
You did well.
INT. DRESSING ROOM SOMEWHERE. NIGHT.
A cavernous dressing room contains a long row of identical
mirrored make-up tables. At the only occupied table, Truman's
contrite father, KIRK, is having what's left of his homeless
disguise cleaned from his face by a MAKE-UP ARTIST under the
watchful eye of two DARK-SUITED BODYGUARDS.
From a mezzanine floor out of Kirk's vision, CHRISTOF and CHLOE
also take in the proceedings. Behind their heads, a monitor
shows a surveillance picture of an agitated TRUMAN sitting in
his car, trapped in rush-hour traffic.
CHLOE
We've tightened security.
Christof nods indifferently, knowing the damage is already done.
CHLOE
(referring to Kirk)
Why would he do this to us?
CHRISTOF
Old age. Sentiment. You play someone's
father all those years, you are someone's
father...He sees the way Truman is. He
feels responsible.
Christof turns and enters an office adjacent to the balcony,
containing a state-of-the-art monitor and VCR. Chloe follows.
Christof plays the cued recording without comment. We focus on
the screen.
EXT. LONG ISLAND SOUND. DAY, TWENTY-SEVEN YEARS EARLIER.
A younger-looking CHRISTOF sits in a motorboat in the calm
water of Long Island Sound. Truman's father, KIRK, twenty-seven
years younger and a DARK HAIRED BOY, Truman's age at the time,
acting as a stand-in, sit in the stern of a sailing dinghy.
Two SCUBA DIVERS in the ocean.
YOUNG CHRISTOF
(barking instructions to Kirk)
...as soon as we give the cue, tack to windward...
Kirk rehearses turning the tiller in the instructed direction.
YOUNG CHRISTOF
The freak wave will strike from the
starboard side. Remember, you don't
go to the diver. The diver goes to you.
To simulate the wave, one of the divers puts his full weight on
the side of the dinghy to capsize it. Kirk and the boy are
tossed into the water. While the boy immediately bobs to the
surface in his life jacket, Kirk fails to surface. After a long
moment, he reappears with the second diver some distance away.
now wearing a spare aqualung.
YOUNG CHRISTOF
...Good! Good!...of course, on the day you
only surface once you're safely beyond the
cove...Try it one more time...You okay?
Kirk is staring at Truman's stand-in, clinging to the upturned
boat. Kirk's expression suggests he is not a totally willing
participant in the masquerade.
The present-day Christof freezes the monitor on Kirk's uncertain
face.
INT. TRUMAN'S GARAGE. DUSK.
A cluttered garage, dimly lit by a single work lamp. TRUMAN
looks over his shoulder before turning his attention to a dusty
trunk under a canvas sheet. The trunk is fastened with a
combination lock. He deftly dials the correct combination and
opens the lid.
Inside, mementoes from his youth. A "HOW TO SAIL" book, a
stack of "GREAT EXFLORERS" magazines, and beneath it all, a
garment in a drycleaning bag. Truman carefully lifts up the
plastic to reveal a schoolgirl's lavender cardigan decorated
with pearl beading. He puts the cardigan to his nose and
breathes deeply.
Footsteps. Truman hastily drops the cardigan in the trunk and
shuts the lid. MERYL, standing close behind.
MERYL
What're you doing out here?
TRUMAN
(turning attention to an upturned
mower on the garage floor)
Fixing the mower.
Meryl doesn't look like she buys it.
MERYL
(concerned)
Your sister called. She was worried about you.
TRUMAN
(matter-of-fact)
I saw my father on State Street dressed as
a homeless man.
MERYL
(attempting to comfort)
I kept seeing my brother for years after he died.
TRUMAN
(irritated at her subtle dismissiveness)
What do you want?
MERYL
I made macaroni.
TRUMAN
I gotta go out. About a replacement...
(hastily adding)
...mower blade.
Meryl nods, not at all convinced. After an uncomfortable
pause, she turns and heads back to the house.
EXT. CAR WASH. DUSK.
TRUMAN ruefully examines the broken car aerial on his freshly
washed Oldsmobile. In the background is the warning sign he
has just ignored, "CLOSE WINDOWS, LOWER AERIALS".
Truman removes the metal coathanger from beneath the lavender
cardigan and forces the bent wire into what's left of the
severed aerial.
INT. TRUMAN'S CAR. DUSK.
TRUMAN motors down a busy shopping street, crowded on both sides
with PEDESTRIANS. As he drives, he tests his car radio.
Adjusting the tuner knob, he finds a station.
FEMALE VOICE (from radio)
...west on Atlantic...he's making a right
on Woodhaven...
Truman glances up at the street signs along his route and finds
that they coincide exactly with the streets quoted on the radio.
Distracted, he almost bowls over an OLD LADY on a crosswalk.
MALE VOICE (from radio)
...God, Truman almost hit Marilyn!...he's
on the move again, passing the Burger King...
Truman readjusts the radio as it starts to fade out. Suddenly
there is a piercing blast of feedback. He looks up and, as far
as the eye can see, every PEDESTRIAN, MOTORIST and SHOPKEEPER
along the street suddenly winces in pain and holds their right
ear at exactly the same moment.
MALE VOICE
(from radio, in distress himself)
...something's wrong. Change frequencies...
Truman tries to pick up the channel once again but without
success.
EXT. DRUG STORE. DUSK.
Still shaken by his experience with the radio, TRUMAN exits
a Drug Store with a small, brown paper bag. Out of the corner
of his eye he catches a MALE BYSTANDER still checking his right
ear with his finger. He goes to say something to the by-stander
but thinks better of it.
EXT. REDLIGHT DISTRICT, QUEENS. NIGHT.
HOOKERS in white heels and spray-on skirts display their wares.
TRUMAN cruises slowly past in his Oldsmobile, the expression of
the prostitutes turning from seductive to contemptuous as each
is by-passed.
Suddenly Truman pulls sharply into the curb beside a leggy,
prostitute, VERONICA, wearing a platinum blonde wig. She is in
deep discussion with a fellow WORKING GIRL. Veronica recognizes
the car and instantly bends down to the open passenger window.
VERONICA
Hey, Truman! Where you bin? You bin
cheatin' on me?
Veronica opens the door and folds herself into the passenger
seat.
INT. TRUMAN'S CAR. NIGHT.
VERONICA knows the form. As TRUMAN pulls away from the curb,
she is already removing the lavender cardigan from the
drycleaning bag on the back seat. She drapes the cardigan
around her shoulders.
VERONICA
Bout time you got this thing cleaned.
(half-joking)
Don't tell me you bin makin' your old lady
wear it.
Truman passes her the brown paper bag without reply. Veronica
removes a bottle of perfume and proceeds to liberally apply it.
VERONICA
(examining the bottle)
God, do they still make this stuff?
What's the Sell-By Date?
INT. FLUSHING MEADOW PARK. NIGHT.
From a vantage point in a disused tower high above the park.
CHRISTOF and CHLOE watch as Truman's Oldsmobile enters the park
grounds and comes to a stop near the large metal framed globe,
the Unisphere. Both Christof and Chloe wear earpieces, a
miniature television propped at their feet shows a close-up
picture of TRUMAN and VERONICA inside the car.
CHLOE
(into a flip-phone,
condescending)
...you see him messing with the antenna...what
did you think would happen?..."lapse of
concentration", is that what you call it?
I call it amateur-hour...
(sarcastic)
In case you hadn't noticed, we don't get to
do it over.
Christof, totally unfazed, regards his zealous young assistant
with affection and even a mild amusement.
CHLOE
(as she hangs up, querying the
smile that plays around his lips)
You think this is funny?
CHRISTOF
The mask has slipped before. Everything
can be explained.
TRUMAN kills the lights and he and VERONICA exit the car
unaware that they are being observed.
CHRISTOF
(adopting a more serious tone
as he returns his attention to Truman)
What's dangerous is that he makes the connection
between what happened today and the girl.
We focus on Truman and Veronica as they take a seat at the edge
of the pool surrounding the great steel globe.
VERONICA
Like I say, I don't normally do this.
I gotta charge extra.
Truman nods his agreement and forks over several bills.
Veronica deposits the money in her purse and perches herself as
modestly as possible on the edge of the fountain.
When she is ready, Truman tenderly places his arm around her
shoulder. Veronica responds, hesitantly, becoming immersed in
her role. She reaches out her own hand and rests it on the
nape of his neck. Slowly both heads drift together, but stop
just short of their lips meeting, agonizingly close. So close
they can feel each other's breath, barely a sliver of daylight
separating them. Then finally their lips touch in the most
gentle of caresses.
They hold the kiss for another long moment and then
simultaneously break. As they look into each other's eyes,
Truman goes to say something but Veronica hushes him by placing
a finger to his lips. Then abruptly she moves out of frame, the
cardigan falling from around her shoulders in her haste.
From Truman's POV we focus on the cardigan on the pavement,
triggering a flashback in his head.
INT. HIGH SCHOOL CORRIDOR. DAY, SEVENTEEN YEARS EARLIER.
As with Truman's previous flashbacks, this scene appears to be
playing on a television screen. However, on this occasion it is
also accompanied by CHRISTOF's comments from his perch in the
tower above the park.
CHRISTOF (V.O.)
He's re-created the event on and off for a
number of years. We've never understood what
prompts him to indulge the fantasy, or for that
matter what inspired such a painfully shy boy
to approach her in the first place...
A SEVENTEEN-YEAR-OLD TRUMAN, carrying a stack of books, spies
LAUREN, sixteen going on thirty-five, wearing the lavender,
beaded cardigan at her open locker. She is entertaining two
GIRLFRIENDS with what appears to be a lewd tale.
CHRISTOF (V.O.)
We'd noticed them making eyes at each other
for some weeks but never thought he'd say
anything. She was a year older, wrote poetry,
way out of his league...
Truman, obviously terrified, musters the nerve to approach the
lockers. The three girls look up, surprised by the
interruption.
TRUMAN
(to Lauren, tongue-tied, a strangled greeting)
Hi.
GIRLFRIEND 1
(to Lauren as the two girlfriends
abruptly depart)
See you in class.
Lauren is unsure whether or not to follow her friends.
TRUMAN
Lauren, right?
Her name is carefully written in blue ink on the covers of her
text books.
LAUREN
No.
TRUMAN
(ignoring her lack of interest)
Look. I was wonder--
LAUREN
--I can't go out with you.
TRUMAN
I haven't asked you yet.
LAUREN
Well when you do, that's my answer.
(softening)
I'm sorry. It's not up to me.
TRUMAN
(summoning up courage from somewhere)
Why, you married?
Lauren smiles despite herself.
TRUMAN
I'm not asking you to have my children,
just a pizza. How about Saturday?
LAUREN
(adamant)
No.
TRUMAN
Friday?
Lauren looks around the deserted school corridor.
LAUREN
Now.
TRUMAN
Right now? We got finals.
LAUREN
If we don't go now, it won't happen.
Truman hesitates.
LAUREN
(impatient, looking anxiously around)
Well, what do you want to do?
THE PICTURE ON THE TELEVISION SCREEN SUDDENLY FAST-FORWARDS AT
SUCH SPEED IT BECOMES A BLUR - THEN RETURNS TO NORMAL SPEED.
EXT. FLUSHING MEADOW PARK. DUSK.
The SEVENTEEN-YEAR-OLD TRUMAN and LAUREN enter the park near the
Unisphere. The park is deserted on a hot June afternoon.
CHRISTOF (V.O.)
We knew we were taking a risk. She hadn't
been properly coached, but we were torn...
He'd summoned the courage to make the
approach...We wanted to reward that. Of
course she took full advantage...
Truman and Lauren run up to the ledge of the pool surrounding
the steel sculpture.
LAUREN
I never knew this place existed.
They both stare down at the inviting water. Lauren suddenly
throws off her cardigan and jumps into the pool without another
thought. She comes splashing to the surface. Truman stares
down, transfixed hy the shimmering water.
LAUREN
Come on! Come on! It's wonderful!
TRUMAN
(nervous)
I...I can't.
Lauren suddenly stops splashing.
LAUREN
That's right. Oh, God, I'm sorry.
She quickly climbs out of the pool, dripping wet.
TRUMAN
(confused)
Why? You've got nothing to be sorry about.
Has someone been talking to you?
Lauren wrings out her dress.
LAUREN
(to the sky, upset)
Get me out of here. I don't want to
be here.
Lauren starts walking away.
TRUMAN
(confused, calling after her)
What are you talking about? Lauren! Lauren!
Truman runs after Lauren and holds her by the arms, forcing
her to face him.
LAUREN
(distraught)
My name's not Lauren! It's Sylvia!
Truman looks into her eyes and believes her.
THE PICTURE FAST-FORWARDS AGAIN AT HIGH SPEED FOR A MOMENT AND
RETURNS TO NORMAL.
TRUMAN and SYLVIA (as she is now called throughout the remainder
of the movie) sit on the ledge of the pool - the same spot as
Truman and the hooker, Veronica, seventeen years later. As we
have just seen imitated, Sylvia and Truman kiss with great
delicacy. Truman goes to say something but she covers his lips
with her finger.
SYLVIA
In a minute someone's going to come and
stop me talking to you.
TRUMAN
(looking around the deserted park)
Who? There's no one around.
SYLVIA
(covering his lips once again)
You remember when you were a little boy,
you stood up in class and said you wanted
to be an explorer like Magellan. And your
teacher, Sister Olivia said, "You're too
late, Truman. There's nothing left to
explore." And all the other kids laughed.
And you sat down.
TRUMAN
(incredulous)
How do you know about that?
SYLVIA
It doesn't matter. You've forgotten about
that boy, Truman. You got scared. Just
because something happens, doesn't mean you
can't take another chance in your life.
TRUMAN
I don't understand.
SYLVIA
(looking over her shoulder nervously)
There isn't much time. Just listen.
Everybody's pretending Truman. Everybody
but you.
(pointing to the
buildings on the horizon)
Look at that project. You think anybody
lives there? It's all for you, Truman.
A show. The eyes are everywhere.
TRUMAN
(protesting)
Eyes? Where?
SYLVIA
(frustrated, raving)
Everywhere, disguised...Truman, they're
going to fill your head with lies.
You've got to make yourself deaf, you
understand? When you're afraid the most, it
means you're on the right track. Trust that
boy. Promise me you'll do that?
Truman nods, unsure of the commitment he is making.
Suddenly a 1962 Plymouth roars towards the fountain out of
nowhere.
SYLVIA
(scared)
I told you, Truman!
The car skids to a stop and a large MAN, 40ish, with a shock of
dark hair jumps from the car. The man yanks the frightened
Sylvia to her feet causing her cardigan to fall to the ground.
TRUMAN
(shocked)
Hey!
MAN
(to Sylvia)
Get in the car, Lauren!
Truman jumps up.
TRUMAN
(to the Man)
Who are you?!
MAN
I'm her father!
SYLVIA
No he's not! He's just saying that!
Does he look anything like me?!
TRUMAN
Shut your mouth!
The man backhands Sylvia roughly across the face and bundles
her into his car. Truman rushes at the man.
TRUMAN
Leave her alone!
The man easily fends Truman off, knocking him to the ground.
He slams shut the passenger door of the Plymouth.
MAN
(to Sylvia)
I told you not to come here anymore!
(to Truman, who is getting
to his feet)
Which one are you?
Truman is suddenly struck dumb, the doubts start crowding back
into his head.
SYLVIA
(calling out from the car)
Don't listen to him, Truman. Make yourself
deaf. Come find me.
MAN
(to Truman, getting into the car)
Don't bother! We're moving to Australia.
New York's done something to her head.
The Plymouth roars away. Truman stares after it and then
turns back to the cardigan left on the ground.
CHRISTOF (V.O.)
Why did he say Australia? Why couldn't he
have said New Jersey?
EXT. FLUSHING MEADOW. DUSK, PRESENT DAY.
VERONICA'S head suddenly appears back in frame beside TRUMAN.
VERONICA
You want me to do it again? I think I
could do it better.
TRUMAN
(coming back to reality)
No...thank you.
Truman picks up the cardigan. They return to the car.
INT. TRUMAN'S CAR. NIGHT.
TRUMAN drives VERONICA back to her turf. She smokes a
cigarette, flicking ash out of the window.
TRUMAN
Veronica, what do you know for sure?
VERONICA
For sure?
(taking a long drag on her cigarette
as she gives the question due
consideration)
The nuns at my school, they used to say,
"The whole of life is faith."
Truman regards his companion in a new light. He comes to a stop
at the corner where he picked her up.
VERONICA
(giving Truman an affectionate
peck on the cheek)
On the house.
INT. HIGH SCHOOL CORRIDOR. DAY, SEVENTEEN YEARS EARLIER.
Another televised flashback. The SEVENTEEN-YEAR-OLD TRUMAN
stands reflectively beside Sylvia's open and vacated locker.
CHRISTOF (V.O.)
We removed all physical trace of her
but we couldn't erase the memory...
ANOTHER SHORT BURST OF FAST-FORWARD AND THEN THE PICTURE RETURNS
TO NORMAL SPEED.
INT. HIGH SCHOOL LIBRARY. DAY
In a secluded corner of the library the SEVENTEEN-YEAR-OLD
TRUMAN sits at a table surrounded by a stack of glossy women's
magazines. By tearing out individual facial features - eyes.
nose, mouth, ears, chin, hair - from photographs of YOUNG WOMEN
in the magazine's advertisements, Truman has been able to
improvise a composite picture of Sylvia.
The montage is a passable likeness although Truman is not
completely satisfied with Sylvia's nose. He toys with
several nose examples before reluctantly settling for one.
He stares wistfully at the completed picture.
ANOTHER BURST OF FAST-FORWARD
INT. SEVENTEEN-YEAR-OLD TRUMAN'S HOUSE. DAY.
SEVENTEEN-YEAR-OLD TRUMAN enters the front door. His older
sister, RAQUEL, has been awaiting his arrival.
CHRISTOF (V.O.)
When he decided to go after Sylvia, we
were forced to intervene once again...
TRUMAN
(excited)
I've got something to tell you, Sis.
RAQUEL
(adopting a low, serious tone)
I've got something to tell you too.
TRUMAN
(unable to contain his news)
I'm going to Australia.
RAQUEL
Mom's real sick.
Truman's face falls. As he enters the bedroom where his ill
MOTHER lies gazing at the ceiling, we focus on his EXCHANGE
STUDENT APPLICATION that he has inadvertently crushed in his
hands.
THE FLASHBACK SEQUENCE OVER, WE RETURN TO THE PRESENT TIME WITH
THE IMAGE NO LONGER APPEARING ON A TELEVISION SCREEN.
INT. TRUMAN'S CAR. NIGHT
TRUMAN turns into his street but stops several houses short of
his own driveway and kills the car's engine. In the light of a
streetlamp, Truman opens his briefcase and removes the framed
photograph of his wife, MERYL. But he turns his wife's face
away from him and opens the clasps on the back of the frame.
Removing the backing, he exposes the composite picture of SYLVIA
we witnessed in the flashback of his youth, worn and faded by
the years. With the frame on his lap, Truman retrieves a
handful of paper fragments from his jacket. Noses. He tests
the likeness of each one in turn. Unsatisfied that any of the
new noses is an improvement, Truman tosses them out of his car
window. We watch the paper fragments blowing in the breeze as
Truman's car proceeds down the street and into his driveway.
EXT. SYLVIA'S BEACH HOUSE. DAY.
Close up on a nose. We pull back to reveal that the nose
belongs to SYLVIA, seventeen years older than Truman's composite
picture - slimmer in the face, wearing her hair shorter.
She is standing at the water's edge on a long, deserted
windswept beach, several sailing dinghys pulled up beyond the
high-water line. In the background, a solitary, white
beachfront house - an other-worldliness to the idyllic scene.
Looking up into the sky, Sylvia's attention is drawn to a piece
of paper carried on the ocean breeze. The paper catches on the
mast of one of the sailing dinghys. A page from a newspaper,
carrying a photograph of TRUMAN in the street where he
encountered his father. Sylvia retrieves the page. The
article's headline reads, "TRUMAN'S FATE IN DOUBT".
Spying a MAN, late-thirties, kindly face, riding up to the beach
house on an old bicycle, Sylvia secrets the page under her
sweater. The man waves cheerfully as he comes to join her on
the sand. Sylvia waves cheerfully back.
INT. BAR SOMEWHERE. NIGHT.
In a quiet bar, a WAITRESS patiently explains her viewpoint to
the BARMAN. A PATRON on a barstool, eavesdrops.
WAITRESS
She was willing to lose him if it meant he
could find himself.
(registering the barman's blank look)
Never mind.
EXT. TRAIN STATION PARKING LOT. MORNING.
TRUMAN sits in his car, about to lace his coffee. From inside
the adjacent Elementary School gymnasium, he hears the familiar
excited squeals and shouts of SCHOOL CHILDREN. Truman suddenly
throws aside his miniature of Jack Daniels and sprints across
the parking lot and into the school.
INT. UTOPIA ELEMENTARY SCHOOL. MORNING.
TRUMAN slams through the front doors into the reception area.
It is deserted, no one stationed at the administration desk, the
corridors empty. He runs down a vacant corridor, pushing open
classroom doors as he goes. They are all unoccupied.
Finally, he stands outside the gymnasium. The childrens'
voices can still be heard. Truman takes a deep breath and
bursts through the double doors.
The room is empty save for a large reel-to-reel tape recorder
in the middle of the basketball court playing a continuous tape
of childrens' voices. The recorder is attached to speakers on
tall stands facing the ventilation ducts. Truman stares at the
machine in disbelief.
EXT. LOWER MANHATTAN STREET. MORNING.
TRUMAN exits the subway, still lost in thought. He stops at
the newstand and picks up a copy of Vanity Fair to resume his
ritual search but his heart is not in it.
He starts his trek to work, pausing to stare at his reflection
in the mirrored building, hoping that the Homeless Man will
appear at his side once again. But no one joins him.
However, as Truman continues to stare, it is the building itself
that takes his interest. An imposing forty-story office
building, a black, sheer mirrored box clad in the kind of
reflective glass that shields its occupants from the world, a
building Truman passes every day.
As usual, a steady stream of EMPLOYEES and VISITORS enter and
exit the building's high-ceilinged lobby past an intimidating
security desk manned by two UNIFORMED GUARDS. Beyond security
are banks of elevators, ferrying executives, clerical staff and
delivery personnel to and from their floors of business.
Truman abruptly enters the building. He strides confidently
past the security desk trying to look as if he belongs.
SECURITY GUARD 1
(to Truman)
Can I help?
TRUMAN
(sneaking a glance at the
building directory)
I have an appointment at, er...Diamond
Enterprises.
SECURITY GUARD 1
They went bust.
The second Security Guard is rising from his seat to block
Truman's path to the elevators but Truman reads his mind
and makes a dash for it.
He slips into an elevator just as the doors are closing,
defeating the flailing arm of the pursuing guard. A WOMAN
EXECUTIVE in the elevator looks in horror at Truman. The cause
of her concern becomes all too apparent. Looking beyond the
woman, Truman discovers that there is no back to the elevator
car.
The elevator is simply an opening into the body of the building.
Truman pushes past the Woman to be confronted with the fact that
the entire office block is nothing but a giant, empty shell with
no floors above the ground floor.
The PEOPLE Truman has just witnessed entering the other
elevators are milling around a refreshment table, sitting on
folding chairs, changing their clothes behind temporary
curtained cubicles or lining up to re-enter the bogus elevator
cars. Gradually, they all turn to gape at Truman, who in turn
stares back, appalled.
The Security Guards suddenly appear at Truman's side and take
him by the arm.
SECURITY GUARD 1
You gotta leave.
TRUMAN
(riveted by the equally-stunned
building occupants)
What're they doing?
SECURITY GUARD 2
You gotta leave.
The Guards frog-march Truman out of the huge facade towards an
Emergency Exit.
TRUMAN
(not going quietly)
Just tell me what the hell's going on?
SECURITY GUARD 1
We're re-modelling.
TRUMAN
Like fuck! What're they doing?
EXT. LOWER MANHATTAN STREET. DAY.
TRUMAN continues to struggle as the GUARDS usher him to the
street.
TRUMAN
You don't tell me, I'll get you investigated!
SECURITY GUARD 2
Investigate what? You're trespassing!
Truman sees there is no point in arguing further. His
shouts are attracting the interest of PASSERS-BY. A thought
occurs to him.
He starts to run along the street, suddenly entering another
building at random. An office block with a bank on the ground
floor. As he skirts the bank, he feels the eyes of the BANK
STAFF and CUSTOMERS on him. Is he so suspicious-looking or
were they expecting him?
Truman rushes to the elevators. The lights above the doors
show all the elevators on upper floors. Frantic pressing
of the elevator button gets no response. Truman heads for the
stairs but is intercepted by a BANK OFFICIAL who bars his way.
OFFICIAL
You can't--
TRUMAN
(anticipating his response)
--I know.
Truman backs away out of the office and continues to run down
the streets of Lower Manhattan's financial district. Every
building he encounters seems to have a SECURITY GUARD
anticipating his arrival or a building OFFICIAL hanging a CLOSED
FOR BUSINESS sign on the front door.
He feels the eyes of PEDESTRIANS. Is he simply drawing
attention to himself by his behavior? Truman wheels around,
trying to make eye contact with passers-by. They shy away.
Truman stops still, his head reeling.
INT. INSURANCE COMPANY. DAY.
From the office window on the twelfth floor, TRUMAN can observe
the glass building down the street. He ponders the black,
mirrored box. LAWRENCE appears at his side.
TRUMAN
You ever been into the AMT Building?
LAWRENCE
(following Truman's gaze)
Not since they begun reconstruction.
(referring to the file
in Truman's hands)
What're you doing with that?
TRUMAN
(defensive)
I'm going to visit a site.
LAWRENCE
What for?
TRUMAN
Because I never do.
LAWRENCE
(placing a hand on Truman's arm)
That's why we got adjusters.
TRUMAN
(looking at Lawrence's hand
on his arm)
You got a problem with me going?
LAWRENCE
I got a problem with you not doing your job,
Burbank. You already screwed up once this week.
TRUMAN
Let me worry about that.
Truman exits with the report. After waiting only a matter of
seconds for an elevator, he impatiently enters the stairwell.
As soon as he disappears from sight, a grim CHRISTOF emerges
from a nearby office, shadowed as always by CHLOE. They
approach Lawrence with the familiarity of business associates.
LAWRENCE
680 West 89th.
Christof nods. Chloe opens a flip-phone to make a call.
INT. INSURANCE CO. - STAIRWELL. DAY.
An out-of-breath TRUMAN arrives on the second floor landing of
the stairwell to find two burly MOVERS blocking his path
with a large office desk they are attempting to transport.
Truman considers retracing his steps, then without warning
clambers over the mahogany barrier.
MOVER 1
Hey, would it kill ya to wait?!
INT. SUBWAY. DAY.
TRUMAN paces impatiently on an empty subway platform with other
frustrated passengers. He loses patience and suddenly
turns and runs up the stairs.
INT. TAXI CAB. DAY.
TRUMAN sits seething in a traffic jam that exists for no
apparent reason.
TRUMAN
(impatiently to driver)
Is there another way? Can't you get around
this?
EXT. A CHARRED APARTMENT BUILDING ON THE UPPER WEST SIDE. DAY.
TRUMAN exits his taxi and takes in the scene. A partially
burnt building, waterlogged, still faintly smoldering. Truman
checks the address on his file. A small, serious-looking BOY
straddles his bicycle on the sidewalk.
TRUMAN
(to the boy)
When was the fire?
BOY
(shrug)
Week ago.
TRUMAN
How come it's still smoking?
BOY
Started up again.
(dismissive)
Kids.
TRUMAN
(referring to his claims report)
Says here it burnt to the ground.
BOY
Wishful thinking maybe?
The boy is wise well beyond his years. Truman fixes him with a
glare.
TRUMAN
Someone send you to tell me all this?
BOY
(unfazed)
You the one askin' questions.
The boy casually rides away.
EXT. CITY PARK. DAY.
TRUMAN wanders aimlessly through a city park, observing. We
sense, truly observing for the first time.
A group of YOUTHS play a pick-up game of basketball. A YOUNG
WOMAN walks a pair of AFGHAN HOUNDS. An OLD MAN answers the
incessant questions of his GRANDCHILD. Nothing appears amiss.
EXT. TIMES SQUARE. DAY.
TRUMAN stands amidst a throng of TOURISTS and COMMUTERS marooned
on Times Square. Mesmerized by the two fast-moving rivers of
vehicles flowing through the intersection.
Truman stares down at the street, contemplating stepping out
into the traffic. However as his foot is poised, the stream
of cars that passed so close by seconds earlier, now appear to
be giving him a wider berth. He steps off the sidewalk and.
to an acompaniment of car horns, begins to wander back and forth
without fear through the traffic, confident that each vehicle
will take evasive action.
Safely on the other side of the street, he stands in front of
the window of an electronics store. He watches a local TV
news show covering the Santa Maria replica moored near Pier 13.
However Truman is forced to look away when he glimpses his own
face on another TV taking a feed from a camcorder aimed out the
store window. He shudders at his video reflection.
INT. DIMLY-LIT ROOM SOMEWHERE. DAY.
TRUMAN'S face stares out from a televison monitor. We slowly
pull back to reveal that other smaller monitors surround the
first until we find ourselves staring at a video wall in a room
the size of a football field.
The curved bank of monitors, suspended by cables from the
ceiling, gives the appearance of a giant patch-work mobile.
Investigating the screens we discover surveillance pictures from
all over New York City, covering every facet of Truman's life.
Camera angles from the interior of Truman's house, his backyard,
car, subway station, office, the deli he frequents, the seashore
to which he is drawn, the park he visits with Veronica, the
abandoned freeway where he golfs with Marlon, many of the
locations strangely devoid of people.
Beneath the video wall is a state-of-the-art mixing desk, its
illuminated buttons glowing brightly in the gloom. Facing the
desk, several OPERATORS in high-backed, high-tech swivel chairs,
wearing the slimmest of headsets. SIMEON, a meticulous young
man with a penetrating gaze, sits directly in front of the
largest of the monitors, co-ordinating camera angles.
CHRISTOF stands over Simeon's shoulder, staring intently at the
live picture of Truman now seated at a streetside cafe,
continuing to inspect his surroundings. CHLOE hovers in the
background.
There is an uncomfortable silence in the control room as the
production crew feel themselves under scrutiny for the first
time. Christof leans forward and talks soothingly into a
microphone on the control panel.
CHRISTOF
...Everybody stay focused...remember who
you are...
EXT. STREETSIDE CAFE, LITTLE ITALY. DAY.
TRUMAN sits alone at the table, still looking for a false move.
A DELIVERY MAN unloads boxes from the back of his truck and
carries them into a Restaurant Supply store. Further down the
street CONSTRUCTION WORKERS take their time tending to an
electrical repair in an exposed manhole. A POSTAL WORKER does
his rounds. An OLD WOMAN struggles with two heavy shopping
bags. Everybody appears natural, places to go.
Truman turns his attention to a group of ITALIAN-LOOKING MEN
at the only other occupied table at the cafe. We see extreme
close-ups as Truman scans the men's faces for any sign of
phoniness. They are talking loudly, making suggestive comments
to the WAITRESS and generally showing off like schoolboys.
Their behavior passes the test, all seems genuine.
Truman idly regards his three-stone wedding ring with which he
has been fidgeting.
INT. CONTROL ROOM. DAY.
The on-air monitor shows TRUMAN from the ring's POV, revealing
that the small center diamond contains a miniature, hidden
camera. Truman suspects nothing.
He looks up to find two well-to-do 3OGGERS, out for a lunchtime
run, making their way down the street towards the cafe. Truman
happens to glance at the sneakers of one of the joggers. He
springs to his feet and blocks the joggers' path.
CHRISTOF
(staring at the monitor)
Damn!
Unseen by Christof, his Assistant Director, Simeon takes a
moment of pleasure from the older man's distress.
EXT. STREETSIDE CAFE, LITTLE ITALY. DAY.
TRUMAN
(to the jogger with
the familiar sneakers)
Small world.
JOGGER 1
(attempting to sidestep Truman)
Excuse me.
Truman blocks the man a second time.
TRUMAN
You don't remember? Two days ago I gave you
my meatball sandwich in the park. You were
in a wheelchair. Same sneakers.
An almost subliminal flashback appears in Truman's head
confirming that the JOGGER and the HOMELESS MAN in the
wheelchair two days earlier are one and the same.
TRUMAN
(commenting ironically on his
new-found mobility)
A miracle!
JOGGER 2
(coming to his companion's aid)
Get the hell outta here.
The second jogger pushes Truman back against the cafe table
causing him to stumble.
EXT. WAREHOUSE - MARLON'S WORK. DAY.
MARLON is loading boxes of candy into the back of his van.
TRUMAN hurries up to him.
TRUMAN
Marlon. I've gotta talk to you.
MARLON
(surprised)
Truman! Sorry, I'm up against it today.
TRUMAN
I've fallen over something, Marlon.
Something to do with my Dad. I think.
MARLON
(looking at him for the first time)
Are you okay? You look like shit.
TRUMAN
(ignoring the inquiries
about his health)
It's big, Marlon. You wouldn't believe
who's in on it.
MARLON
(distracted)
In on what?
TRUMAN
There's no point trying to show you, they cover
their tracks too well. But I've been going
into a lotta strange buildings, seeing a lotta
familiar faces, y'know what I mean?
MARLON
(still engrossed in his own problems)
Something's definitely in the air. My last
delivery, a kid got crushed to death.
tilting a vending machine. They won't even
let me take the rest of the day off.
TRUMAN
Do it, anyway.
Marlon scoffs at the suggestion then realizes Truman isn't
joking.
TRUMAN
I'm deadly serious. Marlon. We can't talk
here. I'm being followed.
MARLON
(suddenly concerned)
Who?
TRUMAN
I don't know. They look just like regular
people.
(producing a notebook from
his jacket pocket)
But I've been writing down numbers - license
plates, taxi numbers, ID numbers - the same
ones keep cropping up over and over.
MARLON
Is someone leanin' on you, Tru? Cos I got
some friends here, they owe me. We can lean back.
(pointing out a taxi
parked outside the yard)
Is he one of them?
TRUMAN
(anxious)
I don't know. Could be. One thing's certain.
The key is spontoneity. Be unpredictable.
They can't stand that. That's why we've got
to get outta here. Can you come with me?
MARLON
(weakening)
Christ, Truman. You're gonna get both our
asses fired.
Marlon shuts his van and gets in. Truman enters the
passenger side.
MARLON
Where're we going?
TRUMAN
The beach.
INT. CONFERENCE ROOM. DAY.
CHRISTOF is in deep conversation with two executives. MOSES, a
contemporary of Christof but more jaded and debauched-looking
and ROMAN, a fresh-faced, younger man. CHLOE hovers in the
background. A monitor, suspended from the ceiling shows a
surveillance shot of TRUMAN and MARLON pulling into a beach
parking lot in Marlon's van.
The glass conference room looks out onto the vast control
facility where SIMEON continues to call the shots, all too aware
of the closed-door discussion taking place in the background.
CHRISTOF
(marveling, excitedly referring
to Truman on the monitor)
I can't believe how much he's shoved down. That he
sensed the significance at aged seven and clung
to it so fiercely.
Roman paces, agitated, unimpressed. Moses, mnore respectful.
CHRISTOF
(gesturing to the clifftop on the
monitor pointedly excluding Roman
from the conversation)
You remember, Moses, it used to end right
there, before the expansion.
ROMAN
(unable to contain his anxiety
any longer)
Christof, the cracks are starting to show.
CHRISTOF
(reassuring, keeping
himself in check)
I'll paper over them.
CHLOE
(coming to the defense of her mentor)
Truman's had bouts of paranoia before and
recovered.
ROMAN
(adamant, faintly hysterical)
No, not like this. It's compromised.
Becoming unwatchable.
Too much for Christof. He wheels on the young man.
CHRISTOF
Fear? Doubt? Is that what you have
trouble watching? Perhaps you don't like
watching yourself.
Roman is stung into silence.
MOSES
(realizing his colleague is in
over his head, including Chloe
to save Roman's face)
Why don't you two wait outside?
Reluctantly Roman and Chloe exit and join Simeon at the video
wall.
CHRISTOF
(instantly more comfortable in the
company of a man his own age)
He's jumped the rails, Moses, that's all. We'll
get him back on.
MOSES
You know why they're so nervous. The birth of
Truman's child is going to double revenue.
For God's sake don't let him upstage you.
(indicating Simeon through
the glass walls)
You've been grooming a successor.
CHRISTOF
He's not ready.
MOSES
Him or you?
CHRISTOF
(jaw setting firm, referring
to Truman on the monitor)
You can't pull him back in without me.
(more reflective)
He's just acting out of character.
MOSES
What if he's in character? What if he's
starting to act in character at last? Have
you ever considered that?
EXT. LONG ISLAND BEACH. DAY.
TRUMAN runs down the beach towards the cliff he attempted to
scale as a seven-year-old boy.
EXT. CLIFFTOP. DAY.
TRUMAN sits on the clifftop, staring out at the view his father
had been so desperate for him not to see twenty-seven years
earlier. However the deserted bay beyond is exactly as his
father described - almost identical to its neighbor. MARLON,
laboring, crests the rise and joins his friend on the clifftop.
MARLON
What're we doing here, Truman?
TRUMAN
This is where it started.
MARLON
Where what started?
TRUMAN
Things. Things that don't fit. Loose threads.
False steps. Slips of the tongue.
MARLON
(irritated)
Make sense, Truman. You going religious on me?
TRUMAN
(tears of bitterness welling in his eyes)
My father didn't want me to see what was over here.
Whatever it was, it's gone now. I never shoulda
listened to him that day. I knew it was wrong.
We see a quick flashback of SEVEN-YEAR-OLD TRUMAN on the cliff-
face twenty-seven years earlier.
TRUMAN
There were a hundred people on the beach that
day. Everybody knew what was going on except me.
MARLON
I don't want to put you down but why would
anybody go to all this trouble over you?
TRUMAN
Maybe I've been mistaken for somebody else.
(a memory triggered)
A couple of years ago, I tried to get hold of a
copy of Time Magazine. The week before an ad said,
"Next Week: Truman Burbank and the Lost Generation".
Marlon shrugs, unimpressed.
TRUMAN
A guy with the same name as me in Time
Magazine. It ain't a common name so I
looked out for it. But the day it came
out, every newstand was sold out. No
library had it. I even wrote off for a
back-issue. Never seen a copy to this day.
Marlon remains unconvinced.
TRUMAN
Maybe I'm being set up for something. You
ever feel like that, Marlon? Like your
whole life has been building to something?
Marlon looks skeptically at Truman. He hasn't had that feeling.
MARLON
(becoming testy)
A coincidence. Haven't you ever heard
of a coincidence?
TRUMAN
I'm a walking coincidence. I can't count 'em.
No something's happening, Marlon. I've got
to get to the bottom of it.
MARLON
(shaking his head in exasperation)
Of what?! Why're you doing this to yourself?
TRUMAN
I'm scared, Marlon. I'm as scared as hell.
But I've never felt more alive. It's just
like she said.
MARLON
(suddenly intrigued)
Who?
TRUMAN
It doesn't matter. She was too beautiful for here.
Now Marlon is really confused.
TRUMAN
Can you lend me some money? A hundred bucks.
MARLON
All I got on me is the takings from the machines.
Why do you need it?
TRUMAN
I'm going away for a while.
INT. SYLVIA'S BEACH HOUSE. DUSK.
The comfortably furnished room of a writer. Walls lined with
books. Desk overlooking the sea, strewn with notes, photos and
other reference material. Sylvia's name on the spine of several
published volumes. Pages of unfinished manuscript, handwritten
in blue ink.
SYLVIA stands at a bookcase, looking for inspiration. As she
pulls out a book, a magazine falls to the floor. Truman's
missing copy of Time Magazine. His face on the cover with the
headline, "Truman Burbank and the Lost Generation".
Sylvia retrieves the magazine. In front of a nearby mirror, she
holds Truman's photographed face next to her own, for a moment
imagining them together. Then, catching herself, she quickly
lowers the magazine, left alone with her own reflection.
INT. TRUMAN'S HOUSE. NIGHT.
We see TRUMAN's disturbed face reflected in the screen of his
television set, montaged over that of ROBIN LEACH, host of
"Lifestyles Of The Rich And Famous". MERYL, wearing her robe,
head against Truman's chest, sips from a bottle of beer.
MERYL
(attempting to open him up)
What's going on, Truman? You're not yourself.
TRUMAN
(vague)
Maybe you just don't know me very well.
INT. DINING ROOM SOMEWHERE. NIGHT.
CHRISTOF eats a sumptuous meal in an ornate private dining
room with an elegant WOMAN, thirty years his junior. Playing
silently on a monitor on an antique side table is a surveillance
shot of TRUMAN and MERYL slumped in front of their television.
CHLOE, enters the room and nods an apology to Christof's dinner
companion - a woman her own age. Christof's companion shrugs
resignedly. Christof registers Chloe's thinly disguised
resentment, enjoying the rivalry.
Chloe inserts a cassette tape into a nearby VCR. Christof
wipes his mouth with his napkin and picks up his wine glass as
he gives the television his full attention. A commercial for
"GLOBAL TRAVEL" begins to play.
INT. TRUMAN'S HOUSE. NIGHT.
TRUMAN continues to watch "Lifestyles" restlessly. However, as
he goes to get up from the sofa, MERYL starts to slide down his
chest towards his lap.
MERYL
We could do it right here, like we used to.
The program cuts to a commercial break. The commercial
is for "Global Travel".
NARRATOR
(from television)
Travelling Down Under? Global Travel is
turning rates to Australia upside down. Round
Trip to Sydney only $829. One way, $465.
Global Travel at Broadway and 44th...
Truman perks up at the commercial while Meryl's attention is
elsewhere.
TRUMAN
(abruptly getting up)
Lemme go to the bathroom.
MERYL
Don't be too long.
Truman exits the living room. However, on his way to the
bathroom he hesitates at the kitchen table. He surreptitiously
lifts the platic-coated plaid tablecloth to reveal numerous
bills laid out flat beneath it to keep the stash hidden.
INT. CHRISTOF'S BEDROOM. DAWN.
CHLOE pulls back long, white silk drapes to reveal a spectacular
view overlooking the Hollywood Hills. CHRISTOF rouses from his
enormous round bed. His DINNER COMPANION also stirs, waving
coyly to Chloe as she modestly covers herself, only mildly
perturbed by the intrusion. Chloe switches on the television
set in the extravagent bedroom. Playing on the set are TRUMAN
and MERYL still fast asleep in their own bed.
CHRISTOF
What happened overnight?
CHLOE
He couldn't do it, even on the sofa.
CHRISTOF
(smiling to himself)
God, that thing of his must be psychic.
(matter-of-fact)
He didn't masturbate?
CHLOE
Not for the last two inonths.
Chloe exits and Christof climbs out of bed.
INT. TRUMAN'S HOUSE. MORNING.
MERYL emerges from the bathroom, ready for work, surprised to
find TRUMAN sitting at the kitchen table.
MERYL
(rubbing ointment into her wrists)
Aren't you gonna be late?
TRUMAN
I got a call in the area.
(nodding to her wrists)
What's the case? Anything interesting?
MERYL
(dispassionate)
Rape on the subway.
Truman's eyes widen. We see a quick flashback in Truman's head
of the two YOUTHS assaulting the WOMAN on his train.
MERYL
They're guilty as hell but they'll walk. No
witnesses. Her word against theirs.
(picking up her bag to leave)
Maybe we could meet for lunch today.
Meryl gives him an affectionate kiss and exits the back door.
Truman waits for the sound of Meryl's car to disappear down the
road and exits himself.
INT. COURT BUILDING. MORNING.
TRUMAN enters the courtroom building. A crush of DEFENDENTS,
FAMILIES, ATTORNEYS and POLICE OFFICERS. Truman goes to enter
a courtroom but a SECURITY GUARD blocks his path.
SECURITY GUARD
You a witness?
TRUMAN
Er, yes...
(suddenly losing heart)
No, no I'm not.
SECURITY GUARD
Closed session.
Before the guard can move him on. Truman sneaks a look at
proceedings through the courtroom door window.
He recognizes the two YOUTHS sitting at the defendent's table.
A PROSECUTOR is on his feet, addressing the JURY. MERYL is
working attentively at her stenotype machine, her fingers
rapidly pressing the keys. However, Truman notices a glaring
omission. There is no paper emerging from Meryl's machine. The
roll of paper tape sits on the floor beside her chair leg.
INT. TRAVEL AGENCY. DAY.
The EMPLOYEES and CUSTOMERS inside GLOBAL TRAVEL are all doing
a last-minute primp, fixing their hair and checking their
clothes. Suddenly, in unison, they take their positions and
begin working. As TRUMAN enters GLOBAL TRAVEL, one CUSTOMER
looks up a fraction too quickly, anticipating his arrival.
Truman takes a seat at the only unoccupied desk, opposite a
female TRAVEL AGENT. Feeling uneasy about a surveillance camera
in the corner of the room, he nervously obscures his face with
his hand.
TRUMAN
I wanna book a flight to Australia.
AGENT
Where exactly?
TRUMAN
(believing she is being
deliberately obtuse)
Australia.
AGENT
(a trace of condescension)
Where in Australia? What city?
TRUMAN
Sorry, Sydney. Sydney, Australia. That's right.
AGENT
(entering the destination in her
computer)
For how many?
TRUMAN
(finding the question suspicious)
One.
AGENT
When do you want to leave, remembering, of
course, that you do lose a day on the way there?
TRUMAN
(more urgent than he intended)
Today.
AGENT
(reading off her computer screen)
I'm sorry. I don't have anything for a
week.
TRUMAN
(suspicious)
A week.
AGENT
(patiently explaining)
It's the busy season.
TRUMAN
(paranoia showing)
You sure you're not trying to keep me here?
You are a travel agent, aren't you? Your
job is to help people travel, not keep 'em
where they are.
(pointing to the agent's
name tag, "DORIS - Travel Agent")
Or maybe you're a different kind of agent, Doris?
AGENT
(showing amazing restraint)
I do have a fabulous rate on a cruise ship
departing for Australia tomorrow. But you
wouldn't want to do that.
TRUMAN
Why wouldn't I?
AGENT
I thought you were in a hurry.
TRUMAN
(calming down)
That's right.
AGENT
You want to book the flight?
Truman pulls out a wad of money from his pocket and several
rolls of quarters from Marlon's vending machines. The agent
looks askance at the pile of cash.
TRUMAN
You were expecting me, weren't you?
The travel agent ignores the question and prints the ticket.
AGENT
It's non-refundable.
EXT. SYDNEY, AUSTRALIA. DAY.
CHRISTOF stands with a PRODUCTION MANAGER, mid-thirties, on the
forecourt of the Sydney Opera House, its sail-like roofs soaring
above them. Framing the background, the coathanger-shaped
Sydney Harbor Bridge.
PROD. MANAGER
(unable to conceal his pride)
Happy?
Christof gives a grudgingly complimentary nod.
CHRISTOF
(staring out at the pleasure
craft littering the harbor)
Can we contain him long enough?
PROD. MANAGER
I think so.
Christof looks skyward at the cottonwool clouds above the
harbor.
PROD. MANAGER
(anticipating his next question)
He flies at night. Thick cloud cover to
disorient him. Hopefully we'll knock him
out with complimentary cocktails, pull the
shades down during the movies. He'll never know.
Christof gives another grudging nod of approval. The Production
Manager is beckoned by a group of CONSTRUCTION WORKERS who are
putting the finishing touches to a corner of the Opera House.
CHLOE drifts to Christof's side, a Watchman TV in her hand.
CHLOE
(referring to the surrounding scene)
Why go to all the trouble?
Christof glances at the TV screen in her hand, showing TRUMAN
sitting in his office gazing at his composite picture of SYLVIA.
CHRISTOF
He believes she has the answer.
CHLOE
Why not just tell him she's dead?
CHRISTOF
It's too late for that. That won't satisfy
him. He's going to have to find out for himself.
See it with his own eyes. Right now he needs
something genuine.
(rueful, all too aware
of the contradiction)
Even if we have to fake it.
INT. INSURANCE COMPANY. DAY.
Close up on typewriting appearing on a page.
"Please accept my resignation from
American Life & Accident, Inc. to
take effect immediately.
Yours tru"
TRUMAN gets up from the typewriter in mid-word and strolls to a
fellow AGENT's desk.
TRUMAN
(to agent, picking up
a dictionary)
"Yours truly..." You spell "truly"
"l...y" or "e...l...y"?
INSURANCE AGENT
I always write "Yours faithfully..."
Truman finds the appropriate page in the dictionary and gazes at
the entry for a long moment. He looks up, staring into the
middle distance. His eyes widen as something clicks in his
mind. Suddenly LAWRENCE snatches the dictionary from his hand.
LAWRENCE
Where the hell have you been, Burbank?
What the hell's going on?
TRUMAN
That's what I'd like to know, Lawrence.
The AGENTS in the other cubicles turn in their direction.
TRUMAN
I was just about to resign. Isn't that
a laugh? I just realized there's nothing
to resign from, is there?
LAWRENCE
Listen, don't bother with the resignation.
Just get the fuck outta here.
TRUMAN
(addressing the whole office)
Why're you all pretending? Huh?
(gesturing to a computer terminal)
What is this a front for? Why aren't I in
on the joke? Was I away that day?!
Noting two colleagues exchanging a look, he pulls the computer
off the desk to get their attention. It lands on the floor with
an expensive crash.
TRUMAN
(hysterical)
I'm talking to you! Who am I?!
LAWRENCE
(taken aback by the sudden violent act)
You better get outta here or I'm calling Security.
TRUMAN
(mimicking)
"Security! I'm calling Security".
Truman picks up the framed photograph from his desk, containing
SYLVIA's hidden likeness. Suddenly he wheels on Lawrence,
pinning him to a cubicle wall.
TRUMAN
You don't believe a single word you're saying!
(to the assembled group)
None of you do!
(suddenly talking to a sprinkler
head in the ceiling)
You hear me?!
We see Truman's manic face from the sprinkler head's POV.
Truman stomps off down the corridor, other Insurance Agents
giving him a wide berth. He shoves computers, desk lamps and
pot holders off desks as he goes.
EXT. MANHATTAN STREET. DAY.
TRUMAN steps out of the office, suddenly able to breathe
again, pleased to be outdoors despite the gloomy sky overhead.
INT. CONTROL ROOM SOMEWHERE. DAY.
CHRISTOF is once again standing at the picture window in the
dimly-lit control room where we first encountered him. Behind
him, the fronds of the palm tree sway in a gentle breeze. The
sky, a cloudless, cobalt blue in sharp contrast to the overcast
day in New York City.
SIMEON, co-ordinating camera angles, sits in front of the
largest of the monitors that shows a live picture of TRUMAN
stuck in his car in gridlock.
SIMEON
(talking quietly into a
slim headset)
...and back to the close-up...
CHLOE's attention is focused on a subsidiary monitor displaying
a freeze frame of TRUMAN reading the dictionary a few minutes
earlier.
CHLOE
(to a hard-bitten Operator, staring
at the dictionary)
Do you think he sees the entry?
OPERATOR
Hard to tell.
CHRISTOF
(sarcastic)
Why don't we ask him?
CHLOE
(snapping back, referring to the book)
I don't know how it got there!
(to Operator)
Enhance.
Christof turns his back on the screen and stares out the window.
We focus on an enhanced picture of the dictionary's text.
genuinely, etc. 2. in fact; really.
TrumanËsque (Ësk)a. characteristic
of the experiences of Truman Burbank
(a Trumanesque town, conversation,
etc.) [circa. 1972)
trump,n. [<triumph], 1. playing-
EXT. SUBURBAN STREET IN QUEENS. DAY.
TRUMAN drives erratically down a quiet suburban street.
On the sidewalk up ahead, he spies a YOUNG MOTHER pushing an
INFANT in a baby carriage.
Truman suddenly swerves sharply and jumps the curb in front
of the mother and child, the car straddling the sidewalk. He
has the driver's door open almost before the Oldsmobile has come
to a halt. Truman dashes from the car and plucks the infant
from the carriage while the mother stands rooted to the spot.
The startled infant immediately begins to wail as Truman holds
the crying bundle in both hands above his head.
TRUMAN
(to the Mother, motioning to the sidewalk)
Say my name or I'll smash its head open.
The young mother, frozen with fright, does not reply.
TRUMAN
(vehement)
Say my name!
YOUNG MOTHER
(composing herself,
reaching out for her child)
Please, give him to me...
TRUMAN
(screaming above the baby's cries)
Say my name! You know my name! Say it!
YOUNG MOTHER
(bewildered)
I don't know you.
The commotion has attracted the attention of an OLD MAN across
the street, watering his garden. He drops his hose and hurries
towards the fracas. Halfway across the street, the old man
stops in his tracks as he sees the baby, perilously poised in
the air.
TRUMAN
(hysterical)
I mean it! I'm ready to do it!
What's my name?!!
Truman lifts the screaming baby as far above his head as he can,
his arms shaking, fighting the urge to dash the fragile innocent
to the concrete. We see a view of the scene from the POV of a
streetlight. The young mother, recognizing Truman's
seriousness, opens her mouth to speak but no sound comes.
TRUMAN
(entreating the young
woman, tears in his eyes)
This is your last chance!
The anguish in his voice convinces us that Truman is truly on
the brink. The young woman now has tears rolling down her
cheeks. She is at a loss, powerless.
TRUMAN
(his entire body shaking)
What...is...my...name?!
The young woman mumbles but is unable to supply the name.
Truman, arms shaking, face red with rage, realizes he can't go
through with it. With everything he has, he gathers himself.
After what seems like an age, he ever so slowly lowers the
child into the safety of the mother's outstretched arms.
YOUNG MOTHER
(clutching the baby to
her breast, without thinking)
Thank you, Truman.
Truman shudders at the sound of his name and backs away from the
young woman, as if it is she who now represents the threat.
He jumps into his car and slams it into gear, driving over the
sidewalk and back onto the street. The young woman and the old
man stare after Truman's car as it roars away.
INT. TRUMAN'S CAR. DAY.
As TRUMAN drives, he stares, paranoid, at seemingly innocuous
features in his Oldsmobile - his rearview mirror, steering wheel
insignia, speedometer, airconditioning ducts - and peers up at
the streetlamps lining the roadway.
INT. SYLVIA'S BEACH HOUSE. DAY.
A dozen-or-so of SYLVIA'S FRIENDS, including the MAN we have
seen before, sit around a table on the balcony in the afternoon
sun, talking animatedly. A TEN-YEAR-OLD SON of one of the
guests has strayed into the living room and switched on the
television set hidden away in an antique bureau.
SYLVIA. emerging from the kitchen, is taken aback by what she
sees playing on the screen. The MAN on the balcony catches
her look as she swiftly switches off the TV. She gently takes
the child's hand and leads him outside.
EXT. TRUMAN'S BACKYARD. DAY.
TRUMAN, staring at the freeway from the bottom of the garden.
doesn't bother to look up as MERYL approaches.
TRUMAN
(referring to a distant
car on the expressway)
See that car way down there? I bet it's a
Suburu station wagon.
Meryl looks idly over the fence at the approaching car.
Finally a Suburu station wagon motors by. Meryl is unimpressed.
Truman turns his back on the Expressway to continue his game.
TRUMAN
I predict the next four cars will be a
white Honda Civic, a blue and white
Dodge Dart with the front hubcap missing,
a Volkswagon Beetle with a dented fender
and a motorcycle.
Meryl doesn't wish to participate in the game and makes for
the house. Truman holds her arm, forcing her to watch. He
turns to check his prediction. A convoy of cars approaches.
TRUMAN
There's the Honda...the Dodge...here
comes the dented Beetle...
Meryl's attention wavers. Truman tightens his grip.
TRUMAN
Look, damn you!
Following the VW is a school bus.
MERYL
(mocking