H A N N I B A L

H A N N I B A L                          

                            Screenplay
                                by
                          Steven Zaillian
                                 
                         Based on the Novel
                                by
                           Thomas Harris

        Revision
     February 9, 2000

     INT. PANEL VAN - DAY

     Clarice Starling is dead, laid out in fatigues across a bench
     in the back of a ratty, rattling undercover van.  Three other
     agents sit perched on the opposite bench, staring at her
     lifeless body.

                          BURKE
               How can she sleep at a time like this?

                          BRIGHAM
               She's on a jump-out squad all night;
               she's saving her strength.

     INT. UNDERGROUND GARAGE - DAY

     Gray cement walls blur past as the panel van descends a
     circular ramp to a lower level.  As it straightens out, the
     view through the windshield reveals a gathering of men and
     vehicles - marked and unmarked DC police cars - and two black
     SWAT vans.

     The panel van - with Marcell's Crab House painted on its
     sides - pulls to a stop.  The back doors open from the inside
     and Starling is the first one out - well-rested and alert -
     hoisting down her equipment bag.

     One of the DC policemen, the one whose girth and manner
     say he's in charge, watches the woman by the van slip into a
     Kevlar vest, drop a Colt .45 into a shoulder holster, and a
     .38 into an ankle holster.  She straightens up, approaches
     the men and lays a street plan across the hood of one of
     their cars.

                          STARLING
               All right, everyone, pay attention.
               Here's the layout -

                          BOLTON
               Excuse me, I'm Officer Bolton, DC Police.

                          STARLING
               Yes, I can see that from your uniform
               and badge, how do you do?

                          BOLTON
               I'm in charge here.

     Starling studies him a moment.  He sniffs as if that might
     help confirm his weighty position.

                          STARLING
               You are?

                          BOLTON
               Yes, ma'am.

     Starling's glance finds Brigham's.  His says, Just let it
     go.  Hers says back, I can't.

                          STARLING
               Officer Bolton, I'm Special Agent
               Starling, and just so we don't get off
               on the wrong foot, let me explain why
               we're all here.

     Brigham shakes his head to himself in weary anticipation of
     her 'explanation.'

                          STARLING
               I'm here because I know Evelda Drumgo,
               I've arrested her twice on RICO warrants,
               I know how she thinks.  DEA and BATF, in
               addition to backing me up, are here for
               the drugs and weapons.  You're here, and
               it's the only reason you're here, because
               our mayor wants to appear tough on drugs,
               especially after his own cocaine
               conviction, and thinks he can accomplish
               that by the mere fact of having you tag
               along with us.

     Silence as the gathering of agents and policemen stare at her
     and Bolton.

                          BOLTON
               You got a smart mouth, lady.

                          STARLING
               Officer, if you wouldn't mind, I'd
               appreciate it if you took a step or two
               back, you're in my light.

     Bolton takes his time, but eventually backs away a step.

                          STARLING
               Thank you.  All right.
                   (re: the street plan)
               The fish market backs on the water.
               Across the street, ground floor, is the
               meth lab --

     EXT. FISH MARKET AND STREETS - DAY

     The Macarena blares from a boom box.  Snappers, artfully
     arranged in schools on ice, stare up blankly.  Crabs scratch
     at their crates.  Lobsters climb over one another in tanks.

     One of the black SWAT vans turns down a side street.  The
     other takes an alley.  The Marcell's Crab House van continues
     straight along Parcell Street.

     INT. PANEL VAN - DAY

     A 150-pound block of dry ice tries to cool down the heat
     from all the bodies in the van - Starling and Brigham, the
     two other agents, Burke and Hare, and her new best friend,
     Officer Bolton.  As they drive along, Bolton watches as she
     takes several pairs of surgical gloves from her equipment
     bag, slips one pair on, and hands the rest to the others, the
     last pair offered to him.

                          STARLING
               Drumgo's HIV positive and she will spit
               and bite if she's cornered, so you might
               want to put these on.
                   (Bolton takes the gloves and
                    puts them on)
               And if you happen to be the one who
               puts her in a patrol car in front of the
               cameras, and I have a feeling you will
               be, you don't want to push her head down,
               she'll likely have a needle in her hair.

     EXT. FISH MARKET AREA - DAY

     The swat vans pull into position, one to the side of the
     building across from the fish market, the other around back.
     As the battered van pulls to the curb in front, a mint low-
     rider Impala convertible, stereo thumping, cruises past.

     INT. PANEL VAN - DAY

     The thumping fades, leaving the Macarena filtering in.
     Starling pulls the cover off the eyepiece of a periscope
     bolted to the ceiling of the van and makes a full rotation
     of the objective lens concealed in the roof ventilator, catching
     glimpses of:

     A man with big forearms cutting up a mako shark with a
     curved knife, hosing the big fish down with a powerful hand-
     held spray.

     Young men idling on a corner in front of a bar.  Others
     lounging in parked cars, talking.  Some children playing by
     a burning mattress on the sidewalk; others in the rainbow
     spray from the fishmonger's hose.

     The building across from the fish market with the metal door
     above concrete steps.  It opens.

                          STARLING
               Heads up.

     A large white man in a luau shirt and sandals comes out
     with a satchel across his chest, other hand behind the case.
     A wiry black man comes out the door behind him, carrying a
     raincoat, and behind him, Evelda Drumgo.

                          STARLING
               It's her.  Behind two guys.  Both
               packing.

                          BRIGHAM
                   (into a radio)
               Strike One to all units.  Showdown.
               She's out front, we're moving.

     Starling and the others put on their helmets.  Brigham racks
     the slide of his riot gun.  The back doors opena and Starling
     is the first one out, barking -

                          STARLING
               Down on the ground!  Down on the ground!

     No one gets down on the ground - not Evelda Drumgo, not her
     men, none of the merchants or bystanders.  The Macarena keeps
     blaring.

     Drumgo turns and Starling sees the baby in the blanketed
     sling around her neck.  She can also hear the roar of a big
     V8 and hopes it's her backup.

     Drumgo turns slightly and the baby blanket flutters as the
     MAC 10 under it fires, shattering Brigham's face shield.  As
     he goes down, Hawaiian Shirt drops his satchel and fires a
     shotgun, blowing out the car window next to Burke.

     Gunshots from the V8, a Crip gunship, a Cadillac, coming
     toward Starling.  Two shooters, Cheyenne-style in the rolled-
     down window frames, spraying automatic fire over the top.

     Starling dives behind two parked cars.  Hare and Bolton
     fire from behind another.  Auto glass shatters and clangs on
     the ground.

     Everyone in the market scrambling for cover, finally hitting
     the fish-bloodied cement.  The Macarena still blasting.

     Pinned down, Starling watches the wiry black man drop back
     against the building, Drumgo picks up the satchel, the gunship
     slowing enough for someone to pull her in.