the+english+patient(script).doc

The Saul Zaentz Company

THE ENGLISH PATIENT

Screenplay by
Anthony Minghella

Based on the novel by
Michael Ondaatje

Directed by
Anthony Minghella

Produced by
Saul Zaentz

Revised Draft (*)
28th August, 1995

Ó 1995 The Saul Zaentz Company

1. EXT. LATE 1942. THE SAHARA DESERT. DAY.

SILENCE. THE DESERT seen from the air. An ocean of dunes for mile after mile. The late sun turns the sand every color from crimson to black.

An old AEROPLANE is flying over the Sahara. Its shadow swims over the contours of sand.

A woman’s voice begins to sing unaccompanied on the track. Szerelem, szerelem, she cries, in a haunting lament for her loved one.

INSIDE the aeroplane are two figures. One, A WOMAN, seems to be asleep. Her pale head rests against the side of the cockpit. THE PILOT, a man, wears goggles and a leather helmet. He is singing, too, but we can’t hear him or the plane or anything save the singer’s plaintive voice.

The plane shudders over a ridge. Beneath it A SUDDEN CLUSTER OF MEN AND MACHINES, camouflage nets draped over the sprawl of gasoline tanks and armored vehicles. An OFFICER, GERMAN, focuses his field glasses. The glasses pick out the MARKINGS on the plane. They are English. An ANTI-AIRCRAFT GUN swivels furiously.

Shocking bursts of GUNFIRE. Explosions rock the plane, which lurches violently. THE WOMAN SLUMPS FORWARD, slamming her head against the instruments. The pilot grabs her, pulls her back, but she’s not conscious. The fuel tank above their heads is punctured. It sprays them both, then EXPLODES.

THE MAN FALLS OUT OF THE SKY, clinging to his dead lover. The are both ON FIRE. She is wrapped in a parachute silk and it burns fiercely. He looks up to see the flames licking at his own parachute as it carries them slowly to earth. Even his helmet is on fire, but the man makes no sound as the flames erase all that matters – his name, his past, his face, his lover…

2. EXT. THE DESERT. 1942. DAY.

THE PILOT HAS BEEN RESCUED BY BEDOUIN TRIBESMEN. Behind them the wreckage of the plane, still smoking, the Arabs picking over it. A SILVER THIMBLE glints in the sun, is retrieved. Another man comes across A LARGE LEATHER-BOUND BOOK and takes it over to the Pilot. The Pilot is charred. His helmet has melted into his head. He’s oblivious to this, cares only about the woman who crashed with him. He twists frantically to find her. Two men pick him up and carry him across to a litter where they carefully wrap him in blankets.

3. EXT. THE DESERT. DUSK.

The Pilot is being carried across the desert. A mask covers his face. His view of the world is through the slats of reed. He glimpses camels, fierce low sun, the men who carry him.

4. EXT. AN OASIS. DUSK.

The Pilot sees a man squat down beside him, takes a date from a sack and begin to chew it. Carefully, the Bedouin eases the mask from the Pilot’s face, leaving bandages of cloth and oil, but revealing a mouth. He stops chewing and passes the pulped date into the Pilot’s mouth. Mouth to mouth.

4a*. EXT. DESERT. DAWN.

THE CARAVANSERAI CROSSES THE DESERT, silhouetted against the dunes.

5. EXT. AN OASIS. NIGHT.

The SOUND OF GLASS, of tiny chimes. A music of glass.

AN ARAB HEAD APPEARS ON A MOVING TABLE IN THE DESERT. It floats in darkness, shimmering from the light of a fire. The image develops to reveal a man carrying a giant wooden yoke from which hang DOZENS OF SMALL GLASS BOTTLES, on different lengths of string and wire. He could be an angel.

The man approaches the litter which carries the Pilot. He’s still in the protective reed mask, wrapped in blankets. The MERCHANT DOCTOR stands over the burned body and sinks sticks either side of him deep into the sand, then moves away, free of the yoke, which balances in the support of the two crutches. He puts some liquid in the Pilot’s tongue, whose eyes almost instantly begin to roll. Then he slowly sets about peeling away the layers of oiled cloth which protect the Pilot’s flesh.

The Merchant Doctor crouches in front of the curtain of bottles and MAKES A SKIN CUP with the soles of his feet, then leans back to pluck, hardly looking, certain bottles, which he uncorks and mixes in the bowl he’d made with his feet. This mixture he uses to anoint the burned skin. Next he finds green-black PASTE – ground Peacock Bone – and BEGINS TO RUB IT on to the Pilot’s rib cage. All the while he us humming and chanting. The bottles continue to jingle.

6*. EXT. ITALIAN HILL ROAD. EARLY 1945. DAY.

The sand gives way to trees, the jingling bottles to distant church bells, as A CONVOY OF TWENTY TRUCKS – Red Cross vehicles and some supply vehicles – snakes along a bumpy hill road. The war in Italy is largely over and the Allies are moving up the country, the wounded and supply lines slowly following.

7*. INT. RED CROSS TRUCK. DAY.

A young CANADIAN NURSE, HANA, sits in a truck full of patients. Hana pays special care to the PATIENT lying in the stretcher alongside her. This is the PILOT – now known as THE ENGLISH PATIENT. A web of scars covers the Patient’s face and body. They have the quality of a livid tattoo, magenta and green-black. The hair has largely gone and the effect is curious, lassoing his features, the strong nose, the eyes liquid. It’s a warrior’s face. But he has no physical strength. He coughs violently as the trucks shudders along the road.

8*. EXT. ITALIAN HILL ROAD. DAY.

A JEEP pulls out of the line and approaches the Red Cross truck containing Hana and the Patient. The horn blows and Hana looks out to see it contains her best friend, JAN. TWO YOUNG SOLDIERS sit up front, one driving, both grinning. Jan signals for Hana’s attention.

JAN
There’s meant to be lace in the next
village – the boys are taking me.

HANA
I’m not sewing anything else.

JAN
(mischievously)
You don’t have any money, do you?
Just in case there’s silk.

HANA
No!

JAN
Hana, I know you do!

Hana leans under the tarpaulin, holding some DOLLARS. The two hands – hers and Jan’s – reach for each other as the vehicles bump along side by side. They laugh at the effort. Jan’s GOLD BRACELET catches the sun and glints.

HANA
I’m not sewing anything else for you!

JAN
(getting the money)
I love you.

The Jeep accelerates away. Hana sighs to the patient.

Suddenly AN EXPLOSION shatters the calm as the jeep runs over a MINE. The jeep is THROWN into the air. The convoy halts and there’s chaos as soldiers run back pulling people out of the vehicles. Hana runs the other way, towards the accident, until she is prevented from passing by a soldier.

9*. EXT. ITALIAN HILL ROAD. LATER.

-- and there’s still chaos as two SAPPERS arrive on motorcycles. One of them, a SIKH, wears a turban.

The motorcycles arrive at the front of the convoy. A nurse, MARY, is helping a doctor, OLIVER, attend to the injured driver. The other two bodies are covered with blankets. There’s blood everywhere. The Sikh and his colleague pull out the paraphernalia of their bomb disposal equipment.

10. EXT. ITALIAN HILL ROAD. DAY.

KIP, the Sikh Lieutenant, and HARDY, his sergeant, explore the road ahead of the becalmed convoy, using saucer-like METAL DETECTORS and HEADSETS. Kip is young, lithe, contained, utterly focused as they inch along the debris-strewn road. He stiffens as he registers metal. With a bayonet he carefully scrapes at the mud-caked surface. Something GLEAMS. Suddenly, A PAIR OF FEET walks across his vision as HANA HURRIES PAST, walking carelessly up the road. It’s so surreal that neither man registers at first, and then Kip is shouting.

KIP
Hey! Hey! Stop! Hey!

HARDY
Don’t move! Stand ABSOLUTELY STILL!

Hana stops. Hardy gingerly follows her footsteps.

HARDY
(as he approaches)
Good, that’s good, just stay still for me
and then we’re going to be fine.

He arrives at Hana. Then grabs her. He’d like to slap her face.

HARDY
What are you doing?! What the bloody
hell do you think you’re doing?

By way of an answer she looks at the ground ahead of her feet. Jan’s BRACELET lies in the mud. Hardy bends down and collects the mangled bracelet, presses it into Hana’s hands.

11. EXT. VILLAGE. DUSK.

The CONVOY is threading through A RUINED VILLAGE, passing the souvenirs of war. An overturned vehicle now used as a game by some children, dejected refugees tramping along the side of the road. From the end of one of the buildings are hanging HALF A DOZEN CORPSES, strung upside down with crude placards denouncing, in Italian, their collaboration with the Nazis.

12. INT. RED CROSS TRUCK. CONTINUOUS.

Hana sees all this as she sits blankly inside the truck, the Patient swaying alongside her. She puts out her hand to steady him.

13*. EXT. CONVOY SITE, ITALY. DUSK.

THE CONVOY is making a PITSTOP. The trucks are silhouetted in a line. Hana helps lift the Patient’s stretcher onto the ground. She bends to him.

HANA
Do you need something?

The Patient nods. Hana gets up to prepare MORPHINE INJECTION from a small kit. Mary arrives. Touches Hana gently, conscious of her grief for Jan’s death.

MARY
Are you okay? Oh God, Hana, you were
like sisters.

HANA
(sighs angrily)
We keep moving him – in and out of the
truck. Why? He’s dying. What’s the point?

MARY
Well, we can’t hardly leave him. Do
you mean leave him? We can’t.

Hana has settled down beside the Patient’s stretcher. She draws herself up against the night. On the hill above, she can see the outline of A SMALL MONASTERY in the moonlight. She’s crying, her face a frozen mask.

HANA
I must be a curse. Anybody who loves me,
anybody who gets close to me –
or I must be cursed. Which is it?

The Patient laces her fingers into his crabbed hand.

14. EXT. THE MONASTERY. DAY.

Hana is investigating the MONASTERY OF ST. ANNA, wandering through its overgrown gardens, past a pond. What sanctuary it seems to offer.

15*. INT. THE MONASTERY LIBRARY. DAY.

Hana explores via a gaping hole in a LIBRARY where the walls have collapsed from shelling. The garden intrudes, ivy curls around the shelves. Bloated books lie abandoned, and there’s a PIANO tiled up on one side. Hana presses the keys through the filthy tarpaulin which covers it. Everywhere there are signs of a brief German occupation.

15a*. INT. MONASTERY CLOISTERS. DAY.

Past the Library is a CLOISTERS, drenched with silver light.

15b*. INT. THE MONASTERY STAIRS. DAY.

Hana goes upstairs, negotiating a huge VOID in the stone treads two thirds of the way up.

15c*. INT. THE PATIENT’S ROOM. DAY.

She comes across a small CHAPEL, with the remains of murals and an altar pressed into service by the Germans as a table. Hana finds an old bed, and a mattress.

16. EXT. THE MONASTERY GARDEN. DAY.

Hana comes out, passes a DRY WATER TROUGH. She hears a rustling on the gravel and turns to see A TORTOISE ambling towards the trough. On cue there’s A GURGLING SOUND. THE HANDLELESS PUMP IS SUDDENLY GUSHING, splashing water everywhere. The Tortoise, clearly arriving for this, enjoys a welcome shower. Hana goes to the trough, dips her hands into the water. Looks around her, and makes a decision.

17. EXT. CONVOY SITE. ITALY. DAY.

The Convoy is in the final stages of loading up. Oliver passes the vehicles, deep in dispute with a determined Hana, who is carrying some sacks of rice.

HANA
The war’s over – you told me yourself.
How can it be desertion?

OLIVER
It’s not over everywhere. I didn’t mean
literally.

HANA
When he dies I’ll catch up.

Oliver hovers as Hana adds the rice to a small cache of provisions, then lays another blanket over the Patient.

OLIVER
It’s not safe here. The whole country’s
crawling with Bandits and Germans and God
knows what. It’s madness. I can’t allow it.
You’re not, this is natural – it’s shock.
For all of us. Hana –

HANA
I need morphine. A lot. And a pistol.

OLIVER
(clutching at straws)
And what if he really is a spy?

HANA
(impatiently)
He can’t even move.

OLIVER
If anything happened to you I’d never
forgive myself.

Hana nods. A tiny smile. Oliver shrugs helplessly.

OLIVER
We’re heading for Leghorn. Livorno the
Italians call it. We’ll expect you.

18*. INT. THE MONASTERY. DAY.

TWO SOLDIERS are helping Mary and Hana carry the Patient into the monastery. Hana indicates the stairs.

HANA
Up there.

They struggle up the stairs, one of the Soldiers gasping as he narrowly avoids falling into the void in the stairs. The cot almost tips up, at which the Patient SUDDENLY SPEAKS, his voice cracked and rasping, but still clearly aristocratic.

THE PATIENT
There was a Prince, who was dying, and
he was carried up the tower at Pisa so he
could die with a view of the Tuscan Hills.
Am I that Prince?

Hana laughs.

HANA
Because you’re leaning? No, you’re
just on an angle. You’re too heavy!

Mary laughs. They reach the landing. Hana kicks open the door to the CHAPEL.

HANA
In here.

18a*. INT. THE PATIENT’S ROOM. DAY.

Hana lets Mary take the weight while she goes to the bed and pulls away the drapes, sending up a cloud of dust. They lower the Patient onto the bed. She turns to the SOLDIERS.

HANA
Thank you.

She shuts the door on them, leaving Mary staring aghast at the room, its faded frescoes, its mold, its chaos. Hana smiles, opens a shutter to let a fierce envelope of light into the room.

HANA
Good.

She goes to Mary and hugs her.

19*. INT. HANA’S ROOM. THE MONASTERY. DAY.

A smaller upstairs room completely bare. As Hana tugs off her uniform, she looks out of the window to see the departing Convoy. A cotton dress goes on over her head and she emerges looking suddenly younger and rather fragile. THROUGH THE DAMAGED FLOOR OF HER ROOM SHE HAS A VIEW OF THE PATIENT BELOW HER. SHE LOOKS AT HIM. NOW SHE HAS SCISSORS AND STARTS TO CUT OFF HER HAIR, NOT AGGRESSIVELY, BUT IN A GESTURE OF A NEW BEGINNING

19a*. INT. THE PATIENT’S ROOM. DAY.

HANA walks down to the Patient’s Room and stands in the doorway. The Patient turns his head to her. He’s grinning. He puts up a thumb. On the track a song begins: Some Other Time.

20*. EXT. BASECAMP AT POTTERY HILL. 1938. LATE DAY.

THE SONG CONTINUED IN THE DESERT where we find the singer – PETER MADOX, a weather-beaten man who is working on the guts of an BATTERED TIGER MOTH AEROPLANE. His face is blackened with oil. A second European, ALMÁSY, stands beside him, holding tools and a section of the camshaft. Madox yanks out