影视剧本：13 DAYS-33
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BOBBY (V.O.) They are a vital threat to my country. If launched, they would kill 80 million Americans. SMASH CUT TO: INT. BOBBY'S OFFICE - CONTINUOUS Dobrynin listens impassively, as is his professional duty. BOBBY My brother, my friends, my countrymen and I cannot and will not permit those missiles to become operational. (beat) I promise you that. Dobrynin looks out the window. And then, pained, looks back at Bobby. DOBRYNIN Then I fear our two nations will go to war. And I fear where war will lead us. Bobby acknowledges him with a nod. BOBBY If the missiles do not become operational, if you remove the missiles, then there will be no war. (beat) At this moment, the President is accepting the terms of Secretary Khruschev's letter of Friday night. If the Soviet Union halts construction immediately, removes the missiles, and submits to U.N. inspection, the United States will pledge to never invade Cuba or aid others in that enterprise. Dobrynin stares at Bobby. Stares hard. DOBRYNIN If your Jupiter missiles in Turkey were removed also, such an accommodation could be reached. The two men move their argument forward with the deliberation and formality of chess masters. BOBBY (tired sounding) The United States cannot agree to such terms under threat. Any belief to the contrary -- (beat) -- was in error. Dobrynin reels internally. The only sign on his face is a slight tremor. Bobby looks up, registers the calculated effect. And to Dobrynin's horror, the Russian believes: DOBRYNIN You want war... But not so fast. Bobby folds his hands. And he smoothly goes from hard-ass brinksman to sensitive deal-maker. BOBBY However, while there can be no quid pro quo on this issue, the United States can offer a private assurance. Dobrynin holds his breath. BOBBY (CONT'D) Our Jupiter missiles in Turkey are obsolete, and have been scheduled for withdrawal for some time. This withdrawal should be completed within, say, six months. Dobrynin lets out his breath. BOBBY (CONT'D) Of course, any public disclosure of this assurance would negate the deal and produce the most stringent denials from our government. Dobrynin grasps the move immediately, understanding the ramifications. Still he hesitates a moment. DOBRYNIN This private assurance represents the word of the Highest Authority? BOBBY Yes. DOBRYNIN And it can be relayed beyond Comrade Khruschev's ears to the top circles of my government BOBBY Of course. Our pledge can be relayed to any government official Secretary Khruschev sees fit to satisfy. Meaning this is the bone he can show the hard line. Dobrynin struggles internally, knowing what Bobby has done, wanting to hug him. It comes across as agitation. BOBBY (CONT'D) With the caveat that it is not made public in any way, shape or form. (beat) And we must have an answer tomorrow at the latest. I cannot stress this point enough. DOBRYNIN Tomorrow... BOBBY Tomorrow... Dobrynin rises from his chair. Bobby rises with him. DOBRYNIN Then you must excuse me and permit me to relay the substance of our discussion to my superiors. Dobrynin heads for the door. Half way there he turns back to Bobby, deeply moved. Deeply grateful. DOBRYNIN (CONT'D) We have heard stories that some among your military men wish for war. (beat) You are a good man. Your brother is a good man. I assure you there are other good men. Let us hope the will of good men is enough to counter the terrible strength of this thing which has been put in motion. INT. OVAL OFFICE - NIGHT Kenny enters the Oval Office through his side door. The office is dark, only the desk lamp on. Kenny's gaze moves over the trappings of power: the carpet with the Presidential Seal, the rocking chair by the fireplace, the desk. And on the desk, tucked almost out of sight, sits a small, humble wooden plaque. It's turned to face the occupant of the chair behind the desk. Kenny reaches out, turns it around. It is the Breton's Fisherman's Prayer. It reads: OH LORD, THY SEA IS GREAT, MY BOAT SO SMALL. BOBBY (O.S.) We're out here. Kenny holds on the plaque a beat, and looks up at the open French door to the Rose Garden. The curtains swirl around him in the wind as he goes through the door and out -- EXT. PORTICO - CONTINUOUS -- onto the portico. Standing there in the dark, by the white neoclassical pillars of the cloister, are Bobby and the President. They're holding drinks. Kenny joins them. The President gestures out across the South Lawn to the gleaming Washington Monument. THE PRESIDENT We were just debating who had it worse, us or George Washington and his guys. BOBBY He didn't have to worry about nuclear weapons. THE PRESIDENT Yeah, but the country didn't even exist as a country yet. It was a mess, and he didn't have a leg to stand on. KENNY All he had was his character. The President and Bobby nod at the justice of that remark. BOBBY How does a guy get a rep like that? THE PRESIDENT Doesn't matter to me. If I went down in history like Adams, I'd die happy. All they say about him today is -- KENNY -- he kept the peace. Kenny looks at the President. The President feels it, and gazes back to him. The three of them stare out at the glittering city. The grandness of the world lies before them, and they are deciding its fate, and are humbled by the awfulness of it. The silence is beyond power. And for a long moment, they know not to disturb it. There is nothing left to say. The President, at last, finishes his drink. THE PRESIDENT You know, we never did control it. Not really. Not like we think. He looks at Kenny. Kenny nods. He knows that now too. THE PRESIDENT (CONT'D) But we did our best. Now it's up to them. EXT. O'DONNELL DRIVEWAY - NIGHT Kenny's limo pulls away, leaving Kenny, coat in hand, at the bottom of his driveway. He watches it go, silently urging it to return for him with some call from the President telling him he's desperately needed. But it doesn't. He turns to his house. The lights are all out. He notices he's CLUTCHING the handle of his briefcase. His knuckles are white. With conscious effort, he unfolds his hand, letting the briefcase drop on the driveway. He stands alone, stripped of his friends, his family, his job... and in that moment, mute, impotent in the shadow of Armageddon, Kenny is our Everyman of the Nuclear Age. INT. O'DONNELL KITCHEN - CONTINUOUS Helen stands in the kitchen, a ghostly white figure in her robe, the windows open and curtain flapping as she breathes the air. Kenny enters. He stands in the doorway. HELEN I saw you out there. You want him to call you back, need you. KENNY No. I'm glad I'm home. And she knows the worst. HELEN How long do we have? Kenny's voice breaks. KENNY If the sun rises in the morning, it is only because of men of goodwill. (beat) And that's all there is between us and the Devil. They take each other in their arms, the wisdom of the atomic age so simple, so tenuous, every human life hanging by such a thread... yet a thread so powerful. The CAMERA RISES FROM THEM, finding the OPEN WINDOW and the DARKNESS. INT. O'DONNELL BEDROOM - DAWN The RED DOME OF NUCLEAR FIRE rising over Washington. It roils the air in its expanding, blood-red glory. It is the sun. The dawn in the East. PULL BACK THROUGH THE OPEN WINDOW. SUPER: SUNDAY, OCTOBER 28TH. DAY 13 into Kenny and Helen's bedroom. And silence. Kenny and Helen lie together on the bed. The light burns into Kenny's half-shut eye. Kenny is only dimly conscious of the light's meaning. Until the PHONE SHRILLS downstairs. Kenny is instantly up, launched out of the room. INT. O'DONNELL KITCHEN - CONTINUOUS Kenny snatches the RED PHONE from its hook. |
