The boy looks up, confused and frightened, concerned to see his mother crying in public. She looks at him tenderly.
Her brow furrows. She stops crying. She stares just above his eyes.
Somethings happening: she looks with wonder at the top of his head... his eyes roll upward, trying to see - its a crown!
He raises his hands. He touches it.
A beam of light illuminates the crown, casting its glow
TRUE LIES
WRITTEN
BY
JAMES CAMERON
-----------------------
TITLE SEQUENCE
1 EXT. MOUNTAINS, NEAR GENEVA, SWITZERLAND - NIGHT
The snow covered Alps stand out clearly in the light of a full
moon. A fortress-like CHATEAU is situated in a flat saddle of
forest partway up the mountain, next to a frozen lake. The
property is surrounded by high stone walls, and the stately
grounds are bathed in floodli
Them niggas around the corner tripped out, man. - Fuck that shit, man! - Lets go. Ill take my car. Oh, fuck that. We shouldve let these niggas have it. - Just pull up, just pull up. - Get your shit ready, nigga. Damn! These niggas here? All right, hold up. Get ready, get ready. Look out, nigga! Whats up, punk?! Possible 187 at corner of Crenshaw and Century. They shot my brother! - Tre, you do yo
of the way of each blow. The Young Man swings
wildly, he loses his balance. The Old Man strikes his SWORD
away, then pushes him to the ground. The Young Man looks up as
the older man raises his SWORD above his head. Their eyes
lock. The Old Man smiles and slowly lowers the sword to the
Young Mans neck.
OLD MAN
Its over.
The Old Man reaches out his hand, helping the Young Man to his
feet. The Yo
raise?
- I havent had that.
With all due respect, Mr Wichard, with todays
inflation, that makes you a bit of a schlemiel.
You callin me some kind of a name?
Youre underpaid. Youre overworked.
Theyre shaftin you right up to
your tonsils. You need me, sir.
I think maybe if you run real fast youll get
back to your car before my dog bites you.
Why are ya tellin him that?
We aint even got a dog.
You d
A womans face BACKS INTO SHOT, her head resting against grimy wallpaper. She is tense, sweaty, wide-eyed with concentration. This is CLARICE STARLING - mid-20s, trim, very pretty. She wears Kevlar body armor over a navy windbreaker, khaki pants. Her thick hair is piled under a navy baseball cap. A revolver, clutched in her right hand, hovers by her ear. She raises a speedloader, in her left hand,
Absence Of Malice Script
Capaletti.
- Carlyle.
- Hes dead since June, boss.
The man... Santos Malderone.
And here comes our boy.
Michael Colin Gallagher.
43 here, 47 now.
Tommy Gallaghers only kid.
Nephew of Santos Malderone.
Occupation: Wholesale liquor.
- Duck, Waddell!
- Where were you when I needed you?
- Hi, Donna.
- Hi, Meg.
- Did somebody rob a bank?
- I wish somebody would.
Anything new o
raise money for the group home.
Oh. Well...
listen, how bout this, uh...
will that get me a chocolate bar?
No.
I cant charge you, coach.
I dont even know if the money really goes
to the... to the group home.
Whats your name, son?
My name is Calvin.
Calvin Cambridge.
Calvin, have you ever seen the Knights play in the arena?
No, sir.
Well, since you wont take my money,
how about if I get you some t
graceful movement; and finally a class of five year old children listen intently to a teacher who is demonstrating a molecular model.
TEACHER
And now, who can give me the electron
wave functions for Kryptonian covalent
bonding?
The five year olds eagerly raise their hands. The teacher points to one.
CHILD
The cube root of the wavelength over the
natural log of the integral of the speed of
raised,
the cage sinks, and with it the camera.
A title picks up the movement.
"Even the titles", the young Luis Buel
wrote in his review of the film,
"how they rise and fall,
blend with the movement as a whole,
become pictures themselves."
The titles movement is carried through
to the movement of the picture.
The Workers: Now just a painted
silhouette rising in the background,
the design of the