Brazil

SAM

(gulps)

No, not at all. I mean, it's all right. It's fixed.

SPOOR

Fixed?

DOWSER

Fixed?

They don't like that.

SAM

I mean it fixed itself.

SPOOR

Fixed itself.

DOWSER

... ixed itself.

SPOOR

Machines don't fix themselves.

DOWSER

... fix themselves.

SPOOR

He's tampered with it, Dowser.

DOWSER

... ampered. with it, Spoor.

SAM

Look, I'm sorry about your wasted journey

Sam tries to close the door but Spoor prevents this.

SPOOR

(to Dowser)

I think we'd better have a look.

DOWSER

... have a look.

SAM

No you can't.

He is pushed aside. Spoor followed by Dowser, heads for the door behind which is Mr. Tuttle. Sam is paralysed. Spoor approaches the door as if it is dangerous. He turns the handle quietly and gives the door a little nudge. The door begins to swing slowly open. Sam suddenly finds inspiration.

SAM

Just a minute!

Spoor and Dowser turn round as the door continues to swing open. When the door is open, behind their backs Tuttle is seen holding his pistol in a two-handed grip, his knees slightly bent. Tuttle freezes like that, pointing his pistol through the open door.

SAM

Have you got a 27B/6?

Dowser looks very angry. Veins stand out on his forehead and he goes into what looks like some sort of fit. Spoor knocks him to the ground.

SPOOR

(to Sam)

Now look what you've done to him.

SAM

Have you got one or haven't you?

SPOOR

Not... as such...

Dowser moans and begins to get back on his feet.

SPOOR

But we can get one.

SPOOR

(worried about Dowser)

It's all right, Terry, it's all right, everything's all right.

SAM

(ushering them to the door)

I'm sorry, but I'm a bit of a stickler for paper work. Where would we be if we didn't follow the correct procedures?

SPOOR

We'll be back.

DOWSER

... Be back.

SAM

(closing the door on them)

Thank you.

Sam turns back to Tuttle who is coming forward pocketing his gun.

TUTTLE

Thanks, Lowry, you're a good man in a tight corner.

Tuttle returns to work, fitting in the new by-pass gadget and tightening the nuts, and happily humming "BRAZIL".

SAM

Listen... um... I don't want to get involved in any of this. But I work at the Ministry of Information, and I happen to know that Information Retrieval have been looking for an Archibald Tuttle, Heating Engineer. You wouldn't by any chance be –

TUTTLE

(pleased)

My friends call me Harry. Information Retrieval, eh? Interesting!

SAM

What do they want you or?

TUTTLE

Time to go.

Tuttle finishes the job and throws his tools into the bag.

SAM

Thank you very much. How much will it...?

TUTTLE

On the house. You did me a favor. Check the corridor.

Sam goes to the front door, opens it and looks out.

SAM

All clear.

Tuttle slips out and heads off down the balcony corridor.

SAM

Hey that's a dead end.

But Tuttle merely undoes a pre-arranged rope and swings Tarzan-like off the end of the balcony and across a multi- story void to a neighboring block. Sam is amazed – not to say – stunned.

INT. RECORDS POOL – DAY

Sam is at his desk among all the desks. Documents are being delivered right, left and centre through the vacuum tubes. All the CLERKS are busy. The screens are devoted to their proper use. All this activity is explained by the fact the Mr. Kurtzman's door is wide open. At the next desk is another Clerk much like Sam, his Neighbour.

NEIGHBOUR

I think Kurtzman getting is suspicious.

SAM

What have we got on today?

NEIGHBOUR

Casablanca.

Kurtzman appears in his doorway.

KURTZMAN

(calls out)

Mr. Lowry! Would you step in here a moment please.

We go with Kurtzman as he closes the office door behind him, we are now in...

INT. KURTZMAN'S OFFICE – DAY

Kurtzman is pacing anxiously. Sam walks into the office. During the brief opening and closing of the door we just manage to hear the piano player in "Casablanca" singing, "... a kiss is just a kiss..." Kurtzman is too worried to notice. He is holding a piece of paper gingerly as if it were contagious. He waves it frantically as Sam enters.

KURTZMAN

(hysterically)

Thank God you're here! We're in terrible trouble! Look at this! Look at this!

He thrusts the piece of paper at Sam.

SAM

(taking the paper)

A cheque.

KURTZMAN

The refund for Tuttle!

SAM

(startled)

Tuttle?

KURTZMAN

I mean, Buttle! It's been confusion from the word go! He's been wrongly charged for Electromemorytherapy and someone somewhere is trying to make us carry the can!

SAM

I've never seen a Ministry cheque before.

KURTZMAN

We've got to get rid of it! There's been a balls-up somewhere, and when the music stops they'll jump on whoever's holding the cheque!

SAM

Send it to somebody else. Send it to Buttle. It's his cheque.

KURTZMAN

I've tried that! Population Census have got him down as dormanted, the Central Collective Storehouse computer has got him down as deleted, and the Information Retrieval have got him down as inoperative... Security has him down as excised., Admin have him down as completed

SAM

Hang on.

Sam sits down at the console and punches keys. He does this very efficiently, muttering to himself and generally demonstrating an expertise which obviously leaves Kurtzman way out of his depth, until –

SAM

He is dead.

KURTZMAN

Dead! Oh no! That's terrible! We'll never get rid of the damned thing! What are we going to do?

SAM

Try next of kin.

KURTZMAN

(a revelation)

Next of kin!

Sam punches more keys.

SAM

There we go. Mrs. Veronica Buttle. What's the number on the cheque?

KURTZMAN

(reading it)

27156789/074328/K.

Sam has been efficiently punching this in.

SAM

Into memory. Now... Central Banking... Buttle, Veronica... Deposit

Sam rips off a print out, rapidly stuffs it and the cheque into a cannister and then into a vacuum tube. A job well done.

KURTZMAN

(fervently)

Please don't come back! Please don't come back!

Unfortunately Kurtzman's prayers are not answered and the vacuum tube returns almost immediately. Sam opens it up. From the computer screen comes a voice "Play it again, Sam" – Sam and Kurtzman look at the screen. We get a quick glimpse of Humphrey Bogart before the screen reverts to numbers.

SAM

Problem. She doesn't have a bank account.

KURTZMAN

(hysterically)

Well, that's it! I may as well go and hang myself! This sort of thing couldn't have happened before the stupid seventh tier reorganization! That was Simmons doing! And he and Jeffries always sit together at lunch! The bastards!

(he thumps his hand hard on the desk top)

Ow!

(he picks up the offending cheque)

Perhaps we can lose it... behind the filing cabinet... or destroy it... burn it... eat it...

Under this tirade Sam has begun to hum "BRAZIL" – not entirely sure what inspired him.

SAM

You'd never get away with it. Besides, you can't do that to somebody's refund. It's Christmas. There is one more option.

KURTZMAN

(depressed, not really believing it)

What?

SAM

Drive out to Mrs. Buttle, give her the cheque, tell her to sign her name on the back, cash it at the corner sweet shop.

Kurtzman is dumbfounded by the audacity of this.

KURTZMAN

That's brilliant!

Sam takes over. In no time at all he has battered away at the keyboard, slammed a cannister into a vacuum tube and received almost immediately a cannister containing a sheaf of different coloured papers.

SAM

I'll do it for you. Authorise the cheque. What's the address?

Kurtzman scribbles it down for him.

KURTZMAN

Here. What do I do next?

SAM

Call the motor pool and authorise personal transport.

KURTZMAN

Of course, of course. Leave it to me. How do I authorize a cheque?

SAM

(separating the and blue sheets)

Here we are. Pink and blue receipts. All you've got to do is sign these and the back of the cheque.

Kurtzman takes out his pen and tries to sign the papers but his hand is giving him trouble.

KURTZMAN

(exhausted after all the emotion)

Oh God! I think I've broken a bone. What a pathetic thing I am.

SAM

(taking the pen from him)

Here.

Sam signs the cheque and receipts. A big CLOSEUP shows that he is scribbling Kurtzman's signature. Sam pockets the papers and the pen.

SAM

That's it.

KURTZMAN

You are good to me Sam.

SAM

(leaving)

Don't mention it. See you later.

EXT. MOTORWAY TUNNEL – DAY

CUT TO Sam at the wheel of the little car, beetling along in a seemingly endless, tube-like tunnel, menaced fore and aft by huge buses, lorries and other carriers which literally lift the little three-wheeler from the road surface and shake it by the scruff of its tiny neck.

CUT TO Sam in interior of the Messerschmidt. He is singing along to an obscure arrangement of "BRAZIL".

RADIO

(plays music for a moment which then fades out)

... We interrupt this programme to bring you news of a terrorist bombing at the...

(Sam switches off)

EXT. MOTORWAY TUNNEL– DAY

CUT TO EXTERIOR VIEW OF MESSERSCHMIDT still merrily progressing in arterial tunnel. CUT TO very tiny exit sign: "Exit 49"

CUT TO:

SAM

Peering at sign.

CUT TO:

MESSERSCHMIDT

Taking the exit just as a huge lorry roars by.

EXT. BUTTLE FLATS – DAY

Beautiful utopian block of high-rise flats gleam in the sunlight. Pulling back we reveal it to be an architect's model in a protective perspex case standing in the centre of a decorative fountain that has long ceased to work – graffiti and junk are now the only decorations. In the background is the grim reality of the massive housing tower. Sam's Messerschmidt is just puling up in the shadow of the building which is grey, decrepid, vandalised. Huge conduits, pipes, and tubing frame the scene. Sam gets out of the car under the cool and none-too-friendly gaze of a few LOCALS. Self-consciously, Sam looks around him, then at the paper in his hand. A little group of KIDS sit pitching pennies against a wall. Sam goes over to them.

SAM

(super polite)

Excuse me. Can you tell me...

But before he can finish, the smallest, tiny KID looks up.

KID

Eff off.

Sam, uncomfortably, effs off.

He is watched, at some distance, imapassively by the little Girl Butttle. As Sam enters the buildings one of the kids gets out a can of something and approaches the car. Another is fiddling, with a box of matches.

INT. BUTTLE FLATS – DAY

CUT TO Sam hesitantly walking into the semi-derelict lobby of the big block of flats. Graffiti, vandalism are in evidence everywhere. He walks up to the lift. Pushes the button. Nothing happens. He pushes again. This time the lift door shudders and sparks. Sam tries to pull the doors apart. They jam open with a three-inch gap between them – still shuddering and grinding. In the sparking light, Sam can make out an interior crammed with garbage, junk, old furniture, dead cats. Yechhhh. Resignedly, he turns towards the stairs.

INT. CORRIDOR – DAY

CUT TO Sam coming breathlessly out of the stairwell. On the wall next to it is the number 37. Walking down the corridor he looks at the number and starts to knock, but then notices that the door is cracked open. Sam tries to knock on the door, but it keeps edging open and he settles for knocking on the door frame a bit feebly.

SAM

Mrs. Buttle

(silence)

Uh, Mrs. Buttle?

(silence)

Sam stands not knowing what to do. Sam pushes the door a bit more open gingerly and puts about 65 per cent of his body into the hall of the flat. CUT TO SAM'S POV of darkish hall.

SAM

Mrs. Buttle...

INT. BUTTLE SITTING ROOM – DAY
 

CUT TO Sam entering extremely tacky sitting-room shrouded in half-darkness. This is the same flat from which the FATHER was taken at the beginning of the film: the hole is still in the ceiling. Sam becomes aware of a woman sitting absolutely still at a small table by the only (still broken) window in the room.

SAM

Are you Mrs. Buttle?

The woman nods very slightly without looking at him.

SAM

My name is Lowry – Sam Lowry. I'm from the Ministry of Information.

(no response)

I've come to give you a cheque.

Sam takes the cheque out of his pocket and puts it on the table to tempt Mrs. Buttle into a flicker of interest but she fails to notice it – or him for that matter. Sam pushes the cheque a little way towards Mrs. Buttle but she does not respond.

SAM

(indicting cheque)

It's a refund... I'm afraid there was a mistake.

MRS. BUTTLE

Mistake?

SAM

(encouraged)

Yes. Not my department... I'm only records. It seems that Mr. Buttle was overcharged by Information Retrieval. I don't think they usually make mistakes... but, er... I suppose we're all human.

Sam looks around and sees the hole in the ceiling.

SAM

Oh... what happened to the...?

He gets nothing back.

Actually, my bringing this here is rather unorthodox... Usually any payments are made through the central computer... but, er... there were certain difficulties, and rather than cause delay, we thought you might appreciate this now... it being Christmas.

MRS. BUTTLE

My husband's dead, isn't he?

SAM

Er... I assure you Mrs. Buttle, the Ministry is always very scrupulous about following up and eradicating error. If you have any complaints which you'd like to make, I'd be more than happy to send you the appropriate forms.

MRS. BUTTLE

What have you done with his body?

SAM

Um...

Mrs. Buttle starts to cry.

SAM

Look, I'm very sorry, but I'm afraid I don't know anything about it... I'm really just delivering the cheque. Er... If you wouldn't mind signing these receipts

(producing blue and pink receipts)

I'll go and leave you in peace.

Sam picks up the cheque and gives it to Mrs. Buttle together with the receipts. Mrs. Buttle tears them up and throws them in his face.

SAM

Uh...

MRS. BUTTLE

He hadn't done anything... He was good... What have you done with his body?

Sam looks around for an escape and sees a Young Buttle standing in the doorway. The Boy is looking at him with a blank tearful face. Suddenly the Boy launches himself at Sam with terrible ferocity. Sam is knocked against the wall. A mirror falls off the wall and smashes on the floor. The Boy is all over Sam kicking and pulling his hair. Mrs. Buttle's reaction, however, is to try and pull the Boy away from Sam. By the time she succeeds, Sam is on his hands and knees, in pain. The Boy is crying and shouting, and Mrs. Buttle is loudly trying to quieten the Boy. From SAM'S POV, a piece of broken mirror lying on the floor reflects the hole in the ceiling... with Jill's head and shoulders framed in the hole. The moment is unreal for Sam in his dazed condition. The vision seems unreal too. Jill is staring at Sam out of the piece of mirror and. she's very much the Girl from his dream now.

JILL

Are you alright?

SAM

(mumbles)

It's you... it's you...

JILL

Mrs. Buttle, are you alright?

Sam grabs at the image, i.e. at the mirror, shifting the angle so that the vision disappears. He looks for the vision on the floor but can't find it. Then he begins to realise the reality of what he has seen. He stands up, dazed and battered. Mrs. Buttle has been looking up at the ceiling. Sam looks up at the ceiling but there is now only the empty space of the hole.

SAM

Wait! Stop! Come back!!

Mrs. Buttle is shouting. Sam rushes out of the flat.

INT. BUTTLE'S CORRIDOR – DAY