hing extraordinary
reflecting off his glasses. Removing his shades, Da
Vinci moves to the Something, a gloriously incredible
machine. The opening CREDITS REVEAL its dazzling idio-
syncrasies.
TWO COUGHING APPRENTICES haplessly try to disperse smoke
from the still billowing, mysteriously spectacular
Machine. Mirrors attached to parts of it reflect beams
of light which cut through the smoke like a
A silver throwing-bird is chosen from a weapons array. Gloved hands lift a black eye mask. Tunic armor CLICKS shut, turning to reveal the chest-borne insignia of a Robin.
INT. BATCAVE
BATMAN - CLOSE
Emerges from his costume vault.
WIDER
Deeper excavation has doubled the size of the cavern.
New state-of-the-art computing systems flash. Surveillance screens monitor news and police FREQUENCIES. Crim
hing knives
out of a filthy bag. Their blades are thin,
curved, gleaming sharp.
-- MORE ANGLES, EVEN CLOSER. We can HEAR the MANs
wheezing BREATHING, but we still havent seen
his face. We never will. We just SEE more metal
being assembled with crude tools, into some sort
of linkage -- a splayed, spidery sort of apparatus,
against a background light of FIRE, and a deep
rushing of STEAM and HEAVY,
In black, we hear a chain-gang chant, many voices together, spaced around the unison strike of picks against rock. A title burns in:
O muse!
Sing in me, and through me tell the story
Of that man skilled in all the ways of contending...
A wanderer, harried for years on end...
On the sound of an impact we cut to:
A PICK
splitting a rock.
As the chant continues, wider angles show the chain-gang at w
Faces Script
- Anyone inside?
- Not yet, sir.
- Good morning, Mr. Forst.
- Good morning, Mr. Forst.
Good morning, Mr. Forst.
- I have some correspondence
and some papers for you to sign.
- Dont bother me with that stuff.
- Would you like some coffee?
- No.
- You look lousy.
- Youre not in a good mood?
- Anything I can do for you?
- Ill give you a list of my maladies.
You better give me a cup of