Brazil

Nobody knows. Mr. Kurtzman closes his door again. A moment later it seems to him, and to us, that he has heard the crash of six guns blazing away at each other. He re-opens the door. The only sound again. He goes back to his desk. He punches a few keys. The machine starts emitting even more alarming beeps, then horse whinnies, then "Admit you're whupped, you drygulching scum". Kurtzman explodes with anger, and presses the intercom again.

MR. KURTZMAN

(shouting into intercom)

Where the hell is Sam Lowry?!

EXT. SKY – DAY

CUT TO brilliantly clear sky. From on high an odd bird- like figure swoops down on the CAMERA. As it comes closer we can see that it is, in fact, a MAN wearing strange wood and metal bird wings. In the bright sunshine their flapping movements create a brilliant, flashing effect. Along with the wings, SAM LOWRY (for this is he) wears an outfit that combines the best of Flash Gordon and a WWI fighter pilot. He sweeps past the CAMERA and then, banking, rises BACK INTO SHOT IN MEDIUM CLOSEUP. An ethereal voice can be heard calling "Sam... Sam... Sam". He hovers, looking beyond the CAMERA to something wonderful. CUT TO face of stunningly beautiful GIRL, she is the idealised twin of Jill Layton... Her long hair swirls across her face partially obscuring it and making her appear slightly mysterious. The CAMERA PULLS AWAY from her as soft billowing material sinuously undulates about her. It rises and falls like waves carried on the wind. As the CAMERA GLIDES BACK through this sea of gossamer we can see that the Girl is being held aloft by and in it. A vast landscape stretches below her. The sun frames her in the sky. She and Sam are engaged in a beautiful sensual aerial ballet.

Romantic music fills the soundtrack.

Sam swoops up and away. The Girl floats in the distance as Sam. rises in the foreground. She beckons to him. Sam begins to flap back towards her. But then the dreamy quality of this scene is interrupted by threatening rumble. Sam looks down.

The ground far below him suddenly erupts as a massive, monolithic stone skyscraper bursts through the surface and soars upwards with a mighty rush.

CUT TO THE GIRL IN LONG SHOT. The monolith rises up into FRAME partially cutting her off from view.

Before Sam can do anything, another stone skyscraper breaks through the ground and rushes upwards. Then another and another. There is nothing Sam can do. The Girl is being cut of from him by these gigantic faceless structures. And then she is finally lost from view somewhere in the depths of this strange stone metropolis. Sam lies closer. The stone skyscrapers appear to be solid. No windows. No doors. Nothing whatsoever to interfere with their clean, harsh, rectilinear design. As he flies among these towering blocks he sees no sign of the Girl, only sheer walls rising high above him. Below him the walls plummet vertiginously into the darkish streets. No sound but the creaking flapping of his wings can he heard in this dead place. Coming round a corner he sees something in the distance. far below him a dark procession is wending its way through the narrow passages... away from him.

CUT TO:

LOW ANGLE SHOT

Of the procession making its way past the CAMERA. Black-robed and cowled, the sinister figures look like heavily armed monks. These are the FORCES OF DARKNESS. Together they are straining at several heavy hawsers that rise in long arcs up to a huge metal cage floating above and behind the procession. Binding the cage are metal straps to which ropes are attached. Inside is the Girl – still enveloped in gossamer which billows as if there were a breeze in constant attendance.

CUT TO:

SAM

As he dives out of shot.

CUT TO:

THE FORCES OF DARKNESS

Suddenly stopping in their tracks. They've seen something.

CUT TO:

THEIR POV

There at the end of the passage between two stone skyscrapers stands Sam... barring the way.

CUT TO:

SWORDS BEING UNSHEATHED

Cowls being thrown back. Underneath are rotting, broken dolls' faces. All the faces are the same except for the manner in which they have decayed. They smile – slobbering, sickeningly. Suddenly the robed bodies change shape – some rising up to become long, others expanding sideways to become bulbous, others shrinking. From the folds of cloth come evil weapons. The Forces are massed ready to charge. CUT TO LONG SHOT of Sam. He removes his arms from his wings and folds the wings behind him. He is ready.

CUT TO:

THE FORCES

Nothing moves... except for the constant dribble from their cracked mouths.

CUT BACK TO SAM

Stillness. The tension is unbearable. Suddenly Sam unleashes a terrifying scream and charges the fearsome horde. Unarmed!

CUT TO:

THE FORCES

Thundering down to Sam. Weapons flailing madly.

Sam skillfully dodges the swordthrust of the leading field, and karate chops him senseless – at the same time catching his sword as he falls. Spinning around he parries a spearthrust and skewers a third attacker. Slash! Hack! Stab! He lays waste to the Forces. Nothing can stop this boy. The pile of black-robed bodies grows with each swing of Sam's sword. Wham! Bam! Smash! Sam carves his way through the mob with nary a scratch. And then, suddenly, they are all dead, but a heap of blackness to commemorate Sam's prowess. The Girl is beaming as Sam makes his way toward the hawsers holding the cage. But then a noise behind him makes him turn. There, behind him the pile of black shapes begin to rise. The ropes become a mass of flapping black cloth. This evil churning cloud coalesces and lifts off the ground. The horrible flapping apparition emits a terrifying maniacal laughter as it flies away. Sam is about to rush after it to halt its escape but is stopped by the sound of a telephone ringing. He looks around – confused.

INT. SAM'S BEDROOM – MORNING

TIGHT SHOT of telephone. The ringing continues. A hand grapples with the receiver. Sam is in bed in a darkened room. Sleepily he drags receiver to his ear.

SAM

Hello... What... what? Oh... Mr. Kurtzman!... You're up late. Oh, is it?

There is an electronic box of tricks by his bed, incorporating an alarm. Sam thumps it. The alarm goes off. This sets of a series of other things... The window shutters roll up letting in the morning light. Both taps turn on in the bathroom...

SAM

(into phone)

The electronics here are up the spout. Yours too, sir? Don't worry sir – I'll be there.

Sam puts down the phone and gets into his suit which is moving towards him. Noticing one of his film posters is loose he pushes the pin in firmly.

In the kitchen a coffee maker starts up. In the sitting room the television switches on. Back in the bedroom a cupboard door springs open and a rack slides out with Sam's clothes neatly hanging – ready to be put on. Sam comes out of the bathroom, having turned off the bath taps, and starts to get dressed. In the kitchen the coffee- maker has finished making s small pot of coffee. Sam pours a quick cup and is gone at the door. Throughout all this we have had a chance to get a glimpse of Sam's flat. It is functional, soulless and, though neat, has not been assembled with a loving hand. Most of the furnishings are built in. The walls are divided into two-foot square metal panels painted a non-committal colour. Certain of the wall panels have Central Services logos on them with the admonition "Do not obstruct or remove" below. Sam has livened his bedroom up with large and colorful film posters. The sitting room sports several framed pictures of wide beautiful vistas.

INT. MINISTRY OF INFORMATION LOBBY – DAY

This is a gigantic, vaguely 30's monumental-style building. The lobby is a vast impressive space containing reception desks, fountains, statues etc. Prominent are the security measures, which include automatic mobile cameras, video screens and groups of SECURITY MEN who search all who enter. Sam is finishing going through Security when he meets JACK who is on his way out of the building.

JACK

Sam!

SAM

Jack!

JACK

Long time no see!

SAM

Well, since you disappeared up the ladder of Information Retrieval... I don't expect to see you slumming in Records – what's the problem?

JACK

Problem? – No problem – yes, everything's going fantastically well, wonderful, marvelous, great career prospects, Alison in great shape, kids fine, beautiful home, I'm on Security Level Five now, and Mr. Helpmann relies on me more and more, yes, couldn't be better, I feel terrifically motivated and job- rewarded

SAM

You sound worried.

JACK

Me? – if I'm worried about anyone, it's you. What happened to you, Sam? You were the brightest of us –

As they have been talking, a nearby bank of closed circuit TV screens has been displaying shots of people entering the lobby. As each one enters the CAMERA ZOOMS IN TIGHT on their faces for a frozen CLOSEUP. Jill has just entered and the CAMERA ZOOMS IN and freezes on her face. Sam happens to glance up at this moment. He is startled – the over-exposed TV image is the face of the GIRL FROM THE DREAM. The face is only there a few seconds before being replaced by another picture. Sam looks about to see where the Girl is, but Jill, in overalls, has her back to him as she stands in the queue for the Information desk and so there is no-one even vaguely reminiscent of the Dream Girl. Sam decides he must have imagined it. Over this Jack has been talking.

JACK

What's the matter?

SAM

Sorry. Nothing.

(snapping out of it)

See you – I'm going to be late.

JACK

(looking at his watch)

You are late.

SAM

Even later.

JACK

Sam, your life is going wrong – let your friends tell you – Records is a dead end department, no Security Level worth a damn, it's impossible to get noticed –

SAM

Yes, I know, fantastic, marvellous, wonderful – remember me to Alison – and the – er – twins.

JACK

Triplets.

SAM

Really? – God, how time flies!

As Sam heads off to the lift, he passes a group of MEN standing around a temporary TV monitor. Several of them are dressed in white lab coats. They are being explained the benefits of a new surveillance system by a salesman type. His assistant is operating the controls. On the monitor we can see Jill standing in the queue for the Information desk. The CAMERA appears to he tracking in on her.

CUT TO:

JILL

At top of queue with several forms in her hand. A strange prototype radio controlled camera on a wheeled base is whirring and clicking as it approaches her. Throughout the next sequence it pokes around Jill in an annoying manner – thrusting itself at her face, trying to see what is written on the forms, peering over her shoulder. Jill hands a form to the Information Porter.

JILL

I want to report a wrongful arrest.

PORTER

(looking at form)

You want Information Adjustments. Different department.

JILL

(exasperated but controlled)

I've been to Information Adjustments. They sent me here. They told me you had a form I had to fill in.

PORTER

Have you got an Arrest Receipt?

JILL

Yes.

PORTER

Is it stamped?

JILL

(producing Buttle receipt)

Stamped?

PORTER

(examining receipt)

No, there's no stamp on it. You see! I can't give you the form until it's stamped.

JILL

Where do I get it stamped?

PORTER

Information Adjustments.

The radio-controlled camera noses right up to Jill's face as she turns. She swats the annoying thing with her stack of forms as she storms off. The camera overbalances and crashes into the desk – sparking and spluttering.

CUTTING BACK TO THE GROUP AROUND THE MONITOR

We see a deeply hurt SALESMAN and several sceptical white-coated TECHNICIANS.

INT. MR. KURTZMAN'S OFFICE – DAY

Sam is busily working at the console, unraveling a problem while Kurtzman looks on anxiously and ineffectually.

KURTZMAN

Perhaps the machine's on the blink! It keeps picking up old films. That can't he right, can it?

SAM

It's not the machine. There's a mismatch on the personnel code numbers... Ah there we go! That's a B58/732 when it should be a T47/215... Tuttle... he should have £31.06, debited against his account for electrical procedures, not Buttle.

KURTZMAN

Oh my God, a mistake!

SAM

It's not our mistake!

KURTZMAN

(eagerly)

Isn't it? Whose is it?

SAM

Information Retrieval.

KURTZMAN

Oh, good!

SAM

Expediting has put in for electrical procedures in respect of Buttle, Archibald, shoe repair operative, but Security has invoiced Admin for Tuttle, Archibald, heating engineer

Sam is still punching keys.

KURTZMAN

What a relief! I don't know what I'd do if you ever got promoted.

SAM

Don't worry.

KURTZMAN

But if they did promote you

SAM

I've told you before. I'd turn it down.

KURTZMAN

Would you really, Sam?

SAM

Really.

KURTZMAN

(churned up)

You've been promoted.

Kurtzman hands Sam a sheet of printed paper. Sam takes the paper, not pleased, and glances at it.

CLOSEUP OF PAPER:

"LOWRY, S. (RECORDS. MIN OF INF.) TRANSFER TO INFORMATION RETRIEVAL – (Expediting, Security Level 3)."

KURTZMAN

It's your mother isn't it? Pulling strings again.

SAM

(explodes)

What a BITCH!

INT. DOCTOR'S OFFICE – DAY

CUT TO AN OLD WOMAN'S FACE

Reflected in triplicate in a three-panelled mirror. A pair of MAN's hands have a grip on her flabby cheeks, pulling them out several inches on either side of her face. When I say several inches that's just what I mean. Not only are her jowls being stretched like silly putty but they are also being wrapped around to the back of her neck to demonstrate how tight and smooth her face can be made by DOCTOR who is prattling on over this freak show.

DOCTOR

Now, when you come in tomorrow, Mrs. Lowry, we'll make a little tuck here... and there...

CUT TO:

WIDE SHOT OF DOCTOR'S SURGERY

It looks a bit like a cross between an operating theatre and a boudoir. The cold steel, glass and plastic surfaces are badly disguised with pastel coloured chintz and satin. At the dressing table sits the old woman, SAM'S MOTHER. Behind her stands the Doctor. He is much like his surgery. He has tailored his surgical garments like a gigolo's dressing gown. It seems that he has done a bit of tuck-taking on himself. There is a certain plastic smoothness to his skin, but all in all he has been fairly successful. Sam is pacing around, raving.

SAM

(angrily)

I just wish you would stop interfering, mother! I don't want promotion. I'm happy where I am.

MOTHER

No you're not. Jack Lint is a lesson to you – he never had your brains but he's got the ambition. You haven't got the ambition but luckily you've got me. And Mr. Helpmann. Mr. Helpmann was very close –

DOCTOR

Now, Mrs. Lowry, don't get upset

(so Sam)

Please wait in reception, Mr. Lowry, you're giving her wrinkles.

MOTHER

You see!

Sam groans.

DOCTOR

Now Mrs. Lowry, try to relax. You must trust me. I'll make you twenty years younger...

SAM

Huh!

DOCTOR

(giving Sam a dirty look)

... twenty-five if we just drain the excess fluid from the pouches...

MOTHER

Dr. Jaffe, you're a genius. Would you like to be Surgeon General? Four Star. I know everybody.

DOCTOR

Well they won't know you when I've finished with you.

The Doctor reaches into his smock pocket for a coloured marker. He starts colouring up her face with strokes of different coloured markers.

DOCTOR

First we must eliminate the excess derma... so!... Then the flaccid tissues under the eyes... And now the forehead... Zip! I lift the wrinkles and worry lines right up into the wi– into the hairline, comme ca...

Sam looks disgusted.

DOCTOR

And now the template... There... there... there... Now a bit of sticky... There we go!

(triumphantly)

Already she is twice as beautiful as she was before – voila!

The Doctor moves his body aside, revealing Mrs. Lowry's face, covered with coloured lines and wrapped in cellophane held in shape by cellotape. Sam stares at her.

SAM

My God, it works.

INT. POSH RESTAURANT (ENTRANCE)– DAY

The conversation between Sam and his Mother takes place while they are going through the sort of security checks familiar at airports. They are, however, just outside the velvet rope of the posh restaurant.

MOTHER

(in full flow)

Mr. Helpmann was very close to your poor father. He was very close to me. Still is. He'll take you under his wing at Information Retrieval. You'll like it when you get there.

SAM

You're not listening, mother.

A warning buzzer goes off as Mother's handbag goes thru security check. It turns out to have been activated by a gaily wrapped package. A SECURITY GUARD relieves her of it and unwraps the package which contains the same kind of executive toy which we have seen twice before.

MOTHER

It's a present for my son.

She takes the toy back and hands it to Sam.

MOTHER

I hope you like it. It's very exclusive.

SAM

What is it?

MOTHER

It's something for executives.

At this point the MAITRE'D arrives on the scene.

MAITRE'D

Madam Lowry, how exquisite to see you again. Merry Christmas.

He pulls aside he velvet rope with a grand flourish. He looks disdainfully at Sam's unfashionable clerk's suite

MOTHER

Hello, Spiro. Merry Christmas.

SPIRO

(blocking Sam's way)

I'm sorry but...

MOTHER

You remember Samuel, my son.

SPIRO

(suddenly unctious)

Oh, but of course...

MOTHER

We're meeting Mrs. Terrain.

SAM

Are we?

SPIRO

Ah yes, the lady is waiting.

Spiro leads the way. Sam and his Mother follow, across the restaurant which is much like the Palm Court at the Plaza New York. Trellises, marble columns, antique mirroring, potted palms combine to impress us with their sophistication and taste. A string quartet can just be made out against the far wall. Except for the unfortunate intrusion of metal tubing and ducting brutally thrusting across areas of the ceiling, occasionally penetrating right through the middle of a particularly valuable- looking mirror, the general effect is one of confident wealth and breeding. Sam, Mother and Maitre'd make their way across the room. The waltzing strains of the string quartet accompanying them.

CUT TO:

GROUP OF TABLES WITH DINERS

At one of them sits a wealthy-looking OLDER WOMAN with a rather plain-looking DAUGHTER in her 20s. The Older Woman is easily distinguished from the other clientele by a large bandage that covers a goodish part of her head. The two of them (the Mother and Daughter, not the Mother and bandage) are perusing the menus. Sam notes the Daughter, unpleased.

SAM

Mother, I thought we were going to be able to talk... Oh God, she's got what's he name with her.

Sam and his Mother arrive at the table.

MRS. TERRAIN

Ida! Sam!

MOTHER

Alma, how are you? You're looking wonderful! Hello, Shirley.

SHIRLEY

(shy to Sam)

Salt?

MRS. TERRAIN

(to Shirley)

Not yet.

(to Sam and Mother)

Happy Christmas, Sam.

She hands Sam a gaily wrapped package which obviously contains the same executive toy.

MOTHER

Sorry we're late. Shall we order? Get it out of the way. What are you going to have Alma?

She starts to hunt through the huge menu the Maitre'd has just handed her with full colour photos of the splendid dishes available.

MRS. TERRAIN

I can't make up my mind whether to have a number one or a number two. What do you recommend, Spiro?

SPIRO

(conspiratorially)

Between you and me, Madam, today the number two.

MRS. TERRAIN

Thank you, Spiro. Shirley, what are you going to have?

SHIRLEY

(panics quietly)

SPIRO

(conspiratorially)

Between you and me, Mademoiselle, today the number one. Madam Lowry?

MOTHER

Oh, to hell with the diet, a number eight, please.

SPIRO

A most perceptive choice, Madam, if I may say so.

(to Sam)

Monsieur?

SAM

(brusquely)

A steak, please. Rare.

(to his mother)

Mother, I need to...

SPIRO

(piqued)

Monsieur. Quel numero.

SAM

(handing back menu)

I don't know which numero.

SPIRO

(writing on pad)

Numero, trois.

Everyone is a bit embarrassed here. Mother gives Sam a withering look. Spiro stalks away.

MOTHER

(trying to restart things)

Alma, you wicked thing...

(indicating bandages)

you've started your treatment.

MRS. TERRAIN

You noticed.

(enthusiastically)

I must tell you all about it.