Apocalypse Now

Kurtz has stepped out from his headquarters: He is a powerful man, though obviously very ill. He slowly attempts to pull the remnants of his uniform together, though it is ripped and bloodied, and now combined with primitive ornaments designating him a tribal chief, as well as his U.S.A. Colonel's insignia. He is feverish, with long blonde hair and beautiful features. His eyes almost hypnotize. His midsection is bandaged from what seems to be a serious wound.

VIEW ON WILLARD

This is not what he expected. He is quiet, and then, automatically, he comes to an attention.

WILLARD

Colonel Kurtz, I guess.

KURTZ

I'm Kurtz.

WILLARD

(he salutes)

Captain B.L. Willard reporting his presence, sir.

VIEW ON KURTZ

Looking at him a long time. Then he returns the salute, and simply:

KURTZ

At ease...

(pause, as he regards him)

Sit down.

MEDIUM VIEW

There is, of course, no chair or anything like a chair. But behind and around him, Kurtz's men begin to sit on the ground, cross-legged. Finally, Willard sits as well. Then Kurtz does.

Moonby lights a joint, and passes it respectfully to Kurtz – throughout the scene, the joint is passed from man to man, ritualistically.

KURTZ

(slowly)

Why did you come to... my province.

WILLARD

We were attacked – down river. We need supplies and medical  help.

KURTZ

You were not coming here, to see me?

WILLARD

(finding it more and more difficult to go on with this lie)

No – no, sir.

KURTZ

You came up my river – in that small boat. So simple. I always thought the final justice would come from the sky, like we did.

(pause)

You are the final justice, aren't you?

WILLARD

What do you mean, Colonel?

KURTZ

(gently)

What other reason could you have come? A Captain. Ranger. Paratrooper. Graduate of the Recondo School. Am I right about these things?

WILLARD

You know you're right.

There is a clear, incredible intelligence about this man.

KURTZ

Then the Agency approached you. Maybe in a bar in Quinon or Pleiku. Simple. A year's pay for one life. Perhaps a village elder, or a tax collector. Nobody's orders but your own. Exciting work.

CLOSE ON WILLARD

He remains silent.

CLOSE ON KURTZ

He smiles.

KURTZ

You've spent tome at the Royal Tracking School of Malaysia. I can tell from the way the laces on your boots are tied. I understand you, Captain. We understand each other.

There is a long pause,  as the two men regard each other. Then Willard reaches to his holstered .45 – withdraws it, and places it on the dirt before Kurtz, as an act assuring Kurtz that he is not an assassin.

WILLARD

Do you know me?

KURTZ

Yes.

Kurtz reaches down; takes the .45 – and without another word or gesture, shoots and kills a man.

KURTZ

(continuing)

Do you know me?

He throws the .45 back on the dirt. Rises, and walks back into the cavernous headquarters behind the shrunken heads. Moonby scampers off after him, a respectful distance behind. Even Willard is stunned.

CHEF

Holy shit.

EXT. KURTZ'S OUTPOST – FULL VIEW – TWILIGHT

Dotted with campfires; Montagnard families – it is like a primitive civilization.

VIEW BY THE TEMPLE WALL

Willard is alone by a campfire – his M-16 leans by a wall next to him. He is exhausted.

Lance sleeps by the fire, a little distance away. Chef approaches, crouches down.

CHEF

Captain – they've been probed all this week – Cong and NVA regulars. There's gonna be a big offense any time.

WILLARD

I know.

Lance stirs; starts to wake up.

CHEF

What are we doing here?

WILLARD

Kurtz. I'm supposed to kill him, just like he said.

KURTZ

Yeah, I can see that. He's fuckin nuts –

WILLARD

Yeah.

CHEF

He killed that guy without feeling anything.

WILLARD

Not a thing.

CHEF

When you kill Cong, don't you feel something.

WILLARD

Sure.

(thinking)

Recoil... I feel the recoil of my rifle.

Willard rises. Chef looks at him, confused and frightened.

FULL SHOT – WALL – WILLARD, CHEF , LANCE

Willard walks along the top of a thick wall – sandbagged and dug out every so often for an M-60 or a mortar emplacement.

Wild looking savages man these guns, and seem to bow to Willard as he passes.

WILLARD

This is good – triple overlapping fields of fire – walls so thick ordinary artillery just cleans the moss off their surfaces.

A woman tentatively moves to Willard, bowing, and then runs off to her bunker.

WE ARE TRACKING with them as they move past the groups of people, huddled by their fires... men, women and children. Skulls, shrunken and otherwise hang from every hut – adorn every sandbagged bunker – dried scalps hang from barbed wire. A child is chewing on a big piece of almost raw meat.

WILLARD

(continuing)

I've done things, when I was alone in the jungle – that I never told anyone about.

They continue past amount where the shattered wreck of half a helicopter is laying. It has been altered and fortified with sandbags and concertina wire. The wreck lays on its side so that a 7.62 mini-gun that was mounted there sticks up above the sandbags. The emplacement is built on a mound so the gun commands a clear field of fire into the jungle beyond.

Some Americans, barely recognizable because of their beards and savage manner, sit near the gun. Several Montagnard children giggle at their feet and play with bayonets.

CHEF

This is evil – evil, Captain. We're all gonna die here.

WILLARD

Yeah, I know.

CHEF

I don't get it – You said your mission was to kill him. Let's do it, an' get our asses outta here. This  Kurtz is ruining the war; I mean, this don't look good for America!

WILLARD

(lost in his thoughts)

... he's an amazing officer.

CHEF

You got to kill this sonuvabitch – Lance and me, we don't understand none of this – Jesus, Captain – I don't wanna die here – Do it quick.

Lance just stands there; his eyes vacant.. He sort of nods, sucking a joint.

WILLARD

Yeah. I know.

He thinks.

INT. KURTZ HEADQUARTERS – NIGHT

VIEW FROM INSIDE – Willard approaches the stakes with the shrunken heads. Chef and Lance with him. Willard steps in – Lance and the Chef crouch outside, waiting.

WILLARD'S VIEW

An austere stone savern in the temple: Kurtz's headquarters. Electric lights hanging in odd contrast to the ancient stone. We SEE what is left of the maps and other military charts – they had been tacked up on big boards, but have now fallen into decayed disuse.

There are other indications of the modern headquarters this had been. Now all those things are no longer important.  Kurtz sits alone, slumped back in a wicker chair. There is a large wooden planning table next to him, with maps, lamps and a pile of debris that is practically garbage. There are native decorations to ward off evil spirits; and graffiti on the stone walls, things ranging from "Viet Nam, love it or leave it" to quotes of Nietzsche "Nothing is true – everything is permitted."

Moonby, who had been crouching in a corner, moves to Willard.

MOONBY

He's asleep – don't bother him.

KURTZ

I'm awake.

Willard steps in closer. Kurtz looks to Moonby.

KURTZ

(continuing)

You. Get out.

Moonby hesitates – not wanting to leave him alone with Willard.

KURTZ

(continuing; suddenly)

I said get the fuck out!

(to himself)

I'm going to kill the little weirdo myself tomorrow.

(he shows some pain when moving his midsection)

He's only stayed alive this long because he's a good orderly and medic. He knows how to use a hypodermic.

WILLARD

You're gonna get hit tonight, bad – a whole regiment of NVA regulars.

KURTZ

That's right, the little gook-pricks. But they are noble little gook-pricks, noble. Because they fight with their  guts, like animals. And for an idea! That's rich. We fight with ingenious machines and fire, like Gods, and for nothing. But I'll call in a major blotto airstrike tonight. We'll have ourselves a helluva airstrike tonight, a lightshow. How do you like The Doors' "C'mon Baby Light My Fire..."

Willard shrugs.

KURTZ

(continuing)

Do you?

WILLARD

Yeah, I like it...

KURTZ

I love it.

He rests back, grinning.

WILLARD

You've gone crazy.

KURTZ

(angrily)

No. My thinking is clear.

(calmly)

But my soul has gone mad.

Suddenly Kurtz is seized with a terrible pain from his stomach wound. He groans horribly, clutching at it. He literally falls from his chair onto the dirt floor.

KURTZ

(continuing)

My gut – Oh, Christ, my gut!

Willard leans over him; checking the seriousness of the wound.

EXT. THE HEADQUARTERS – NIGHT

Lance is crouching by the stone entrance – Chef leans in, witnessing the proceedings inside.

CHEF

(muttering)

Kill him – come on, why don't you kill him

INT. THE HEADQUARTERS – MED, VIEW – KURTZ AND WILLARD – NIGHT

Willard examining the wound.

KURTZ

(in pain)

Oh shit – on the table; morphine.

Willard moves to the table, opens the medical packet. He takes out a morphine capsule, leans over the writhing Kurtz and injects him with the drug.

KURTZ

(continuing; looking up in pain)

You see how stupid it would have been to blow out my brains? I'm dying from the gut anyway.

Willard quickly prepares another shot. Kurtz, truly frightened, holds up his hand.

KURTZ

(continuing)

No – I don't want to sleep. I want to think. Water. Give me water.

WILLARD

You can't have water after morphine.

KURTZ

Still playing by the rules.

(almost affectionately)

You're a damn good killer.

WILLARD

(still holding the second morphine)

How's the pain?

KURTZ

How's yours?

WILLARD

I can handle it.

KURTZ

Pain is easy to handle – but nobility.. the nobility of a man is judged by how much Truth he can handle.

WILLARD

What Truth?

KURTZ

The truth that you were sent here to murder me, ans so far you haven't done it. And do you know why?

(looks at him)

Yes, you know why.

(he looks)

Your mission makes about as much sense as those idiots who sent you on it. Asshole! Schmuck! How long does it take you to figure out that nobody knows what they're doing here.

(coldly)

Except me.

He rests back. The drug is beginning to take effect.

KURTZ

(continuing)

Gimme water.

WILLARD

No water.

KURTZ

You know what you're doing? You are interfering with my plans!

He crawls in pain toward the canteen Willard watches him impassively.

KURTZ

(continuing)

This water's got Moonby's acid in it –

He drinks sloppily from the canteen, water spilling all over. Then he throws the canteen to Willard.

KURTZ

(continuing)

Drink it – drink it for tonight. Think of it. A whole regiment of those shitty little Cong-War. Total war – war like you've never known it. It's beautiful – you'll love it. Trust me.

EXT. THE HEADQUARTERS – MEDIUM VIEW – LANCE AND CHEF – NIGHT

We can SEE into the headquarters: Kurtz offers the canteen to Willard. Chef is terrified – Lance is stoned out.

CHEF

Lance – the fucker's not gonna do it.

KURTZ

Goddamn – You've gotta dig napalm on Speed, too. It's spectacular, you'll see.

Lance stands up holding his M-16, looks into the cavern with Chef.

INT. HEADQUARTERS – NIGHT

Willard stands there, holding the morphine needle in his hand.

KURTZ

Look into the jungle. You can't – it's too terrible. You have to smear yourself with warpaint to look at it – you have to be a cannibal.

(whispered)

That's why warpaint was invented. Then it becomes your jungle.

Willard shoots himself in the arm with the morphine.

WILLARD

How did we get here?

KURTZ

Because of all the things we do, the thing we do best – is lie.

WILLARD

I think a lie stinks.

KURTZ

Oh Captain, that is so true.

WILLARD

Stinks. I could never figure –

(he drinks from the canteen)

I could never figure how they can teach boys how to bomb villages with napalm – and not let them write the word 'fuck' on their airplanes.

Willard drinks more of the LSD water.

KURTZ

(angrily)

You could never figure it because it doesn't make sense.

WILLARD

Fuck no.

KURTZ

I'll tell you what makes sense! Air strikes! White Phosphorus! Napalm! We'll bomb the shit out of them if they don't do what we want.

WILLARD

We'll exterminate the fuckers!

Chef steps into the Headquarters – he is terrified. He draws his bayonet.

CHEF

Captain – kill him.

KURTZ

Think of it – for years, millions of years, savages with pathetic painted faces were scared shitless that fire would rain down from the sky. And goddamn, we made it happen. God  bless  Dow!

CHEF

Kill him!

Chef rushes at Kurtz with his bayonet – instinctively, Willard GUNS him – then there is additional automatic FIRE. Chef is being riddled by bullets.

VIEW ON LANCE

He has let loose with his M-16 at Chef, like some sort of mindless, programmed killer.

LANCE

(firing)

Hot damn!

Then he stops – Chef falls to the dirt – there is an instant of silence, then: