Brazil Run - draft 1 (15 pages)
Brazil Run - feature screenplay by Stone Korshak
FADE IN:
EXT. RIO BEACH (DRIVING POV) - DAY - MAIN TITLES
A collage of bright colored tiny bikinis on beautiful bodies
passes slowly.
The long Rio beach is spotted with palm trees and drink
stands.
The car stereo starts to PLAY Credence Clearwater Revival:
"Run Through the Jungle".
EXT. RIO CENTRO (DRIVING POV) - CONTINUOUS - TITLES CONTINUE
The streets are crowded, dirty, and shaded by tall buildings.
Buses pile on each other, moving inefficiently along the
roadways congested with small non-American cars.
EXT. RIO SHIPYARD (DRIVING POV) - CONTINUOUS - TITLES
CONTINUE
The raised highway runs along an endless shipyard with
gigantic metal cranes stretching into the bright horizon.
EXT. RIO FAVELA (DRIVING POV) - CONTINUOUS - TITLES CONTINUE
The hills lining the highway are carpeted with the Favela
slums, ramshackle homes of mismatched brick in unfinished
levels stacked on top of each other.
EXT. RIO SUBURBS (DRIVING POV) - CONTINUOUS - TITLES CONTINUE
The green fields open up along the highway, interrupted by
polluted rivers, billboards and color-coordinated apartment
buildings.
TITLES END
EXT. RIO AIRPORT - CONTINUOUS
The sprawling airport compound is alive with vehicles coming
and going.
TITLE: Rio de Janeiro, Brazil
The international fleet of planes line the horizon, distorted
by the heat of the polluted air.
EXT. AIRPORT DEPARTURE DROP-OFF AREA - DAY
SMITTY, a gringo in his late thirties, steps out of a taxi
smoking a cigarette. He is messy with a deep tan and
sunglasses, wearing a white button-down shirt and jeans.
He's calm in the chaos of endless cars HONKING and stuttering
around him.
The sign above (in Portuguese): International Departures
Oppressive heat weighs on groups of travelers, unloading
oversize luggage and the extra boxes required for
international trips.
He finishes his cigarette while the driver dumps his two worn
suitcases on the curb.
SMITTY
(in Portuguese)
Thanks.
He pays the driver, picks up his bags and enters.
INT. AIRPORT PHONE BOOTH - DAY
The airport INTERCOM is steadily providing flight information
from overhead in Portuguese then English.
Smitty waits on the phone while it RINGS, with his luggage
between his legs. Through his sunglasses he watches the
people buzzing around him.
Large wealthy families, business men, aspiring models,
exchange students and sunburnt-gringo-backpackers fill the
airport mezzanine.
The phone is answered.
GINA'S VOICE
(through the phone - in
English)
Hello?
SMITTY
(in English)
Hey, I'm at the airport.
GINA'S VOICE
(through the phone)
Good. Everything okay?
SMITTY
Yeah. Fine.
INT. HOME IN WASHINGTON D.C. - DAY - INTERCUT AS DESIRED
Gina, looks great at 37, with olive skin and thick wavy dark
hair. She sits on a white leather couch in a spacious living
room, watching TV.
GINA
You get in at eight?
SMITTY
Six, it's always six.
(pause)
I'll get a cab.
GINA
Autumn has stable time before
school.
Smitty shakes his head, and then notices a BEAUTIFUL WOMAN
walk by slowly, smiling at him.
GINA (CONT'D)
I'll tell her she can't go.
(pause)
Michael?
SMITTY
Forget it, I'll get a cab.
GINA
Don't get upset.
SMITTY
See you in the morning.
(pause)
Give the kids my love.
INT. AIRPORT CHECK-IN LINE - DAY
As Smitty enters the long check-in line, and notices the same
Beautiful Woman step in directly behind him.
SMITTY
(in Portuguese)
Hi, good afternoon.
BEAUTIFUL WOMAN
(in Portuguese)
Good afternoon.
She smiles flirtatiously, but offers nothing more. He
notices she is only carrying her hand bag.
SMITTY
(in English)
Traveling light?
She only smiles.
Two uniformed AIRPORT POLICE approach, tense and grim.
AIRPORT POLICE 1
(in English)
Your name and destination sir?
Smitty looks around, catches the eye of several Security
Personnel in the immediate area.
SMITTY
Mike Smith.
(pause)
Washington, D.C.
AIRPORT POLICE 1
(in English)
Please, come with us.
The Beautiful Woman walks away without a look.
SMITTY
What's the problem?
The Police are rigid in silent warning, raising an arm to
indicate the way.
AIRPORT POLICE 1
This way, sir.
INT. AIRPORT HALLWAY - DAY
Smitty looks back over his shoulder with an Officer on either
side of him, each carrying one of his bags.
They move down a long institutional hallway with flickering
overhead lights.
INT. AIRPORT INTERGATION ROOM - DAY
Smitty sits in the windowless room looking at watch, while
the Officers rummage through his luggage.
SMITTY
(in English)
Guys, what's this about?
Neither of them acknowledge the question.
One of them pulls out a large package wrapped in newspaper.
After opening it, he holds up two Pandeiro tambourines.
Smitty smiles wryly, holding his hands up in mock disbelief.
After pulling everything out of his bags, they leave the room
frustrated.
AIRPORT POLICE 1
(in English)
Wait here.
SMITTY
Sure.
(pause)
Thanks a lot.
INT. AIRPORT INTERGATION ROOM - LATER
Smitty is fidgeting in his chair and rubbing the stubble on
his chin anxiously. The overhead light HUMS and flickers.
The door suddenly opens and two POLICE OFFICERS in
paramilitary uniforms enter.
One is large and heavy with lighter skin and a pencil thin
moustache. The other is handsome with piercing blue eyes,
slender but built.
They both stand in front of Smitty, looking at him for a
moment.
SMITTY
(in English)
What the fuck's going on?
(pause)
I missed my flight.
(pause)
You guys paying for that?
LIEUTENANT HECTOR ALVARO, the heavier one, sneers while
smoothing his mustache, and eyes him playfully.
ALVARO
(in Portuguese)
You speak Portuguese.
OFFICER MARCOS NEVES, approaches with a self-assured smile,
and sits on the corner of the table.
NEVES
(in English)
If you speak in Portuguese, our
English is so-so.
Smitty stands up and POUNDS the table.
SMITTY
(in English)
I could give a shit! I've been
here for three fucking hours. What
is the problem!
Alvaro moves fast for a big man. He grabs Smitty's head and
KNOCKS it into the wall.
Smitty staggers back and Alvaro catches him, and puts him
back in the chair. Neves hasn't moved and Smitty rubs his
head.
There is a moment of silence as everyone takes in the
situation.
NEVES
(in Portuguese)
Do you speak Portuguese now?
SMITTY
(in Portuguese)
A little.
NEVES
Your name is Michael Smith?
SMITTY
Yeah.
NEVES
We think you are smuggling drugs.
SMITTY
No.
ALVARO
We know you are smuggling
something.
SMITTY
NO, no drugs!
(pause - in English)
You know who I am?
ALVARO
(slowly - in Portuguese)
Big American business man, comes
down here to fuck whores and get
cheap cocaine to bring back to his
stupid cunt wife.
Smitty looks at him for a moment in confusion.
SMITTY
(in English)
Fuck you.
Alvaro grabs for him again but this time Smitty is ready. He
stands and ducks out of the way, tripping Alvaro so he
stumbles against the wall.
Neves grabs Smitty from behind, puts an arm around his neck
in a choke hold, and pulls him back against the wall.
Alvaro is on him, punching his gut, again and again, and then
kicking him in the groin.
Smitty falls to the ground in fettle position. Alvaro STOMPS
on his head, then the next time Smitty blacks out.
FADE IN:
INT. AIRPORT INTERGATION ROOM - LATER
Smitty is bruised and bloody, laying on the ground. He opens
his eyes to VOICES.
Alvaro is sitting on a chair enjoying a cigarette, while
Neves is TEARING out the liner of his bags.
NEVES
(in Portuguese)
There must be something.
Smitty sits up in the corner, not attempting to get off the
floor.
Alvaro gives him a wink and blows him a kiss.
Neves walks over to Smitty and roughly checks his pockets,
pulling out some papers and a passport.
NEVES
What's this?
Neves looks at the distinct diplomatic passport, closes his
eyes, and CURSES. Then he hands it to Alvaro, who shakes his
head.
ALVARO
(in Portuguese)
Mother-fucker, a diplomate.
SMITTY
(in Portuguese)
It's no problem.
(in English)
Just let me on a next plane,
please.
Alvaro and Neves look at each other, nodding in agreement.
Neves moves to put handcuffs on Smitty, then pulls out a
small black hood.
SMITTY
(in English)
Wait!
The hood covers Smitty's head.
CUT TO BLACK:
EXT. HIGHWAY UNDERPASS - DAY
There is a constant HUM of passing vehicles.
The hood comes off, and Smitty's bruised and swollen eyes
adjust to the light.
They are under a highway overpass, on an empty and dark
street with garbage, concrete and dirt smothering tufts of
grass.
Neves removes the handcuffs and kicks him to his knees and
Alvaro unholsters his pistol.
SMITTY
(in Portuguese)
Please, it's no problem!
Alvaro smiles and aims the pistol slowly at Smitty.
Smitty stands, hands up.
SMITTY
(in Portuguese)
Please, nobody needs to know
anything!
(pause)
I have money!
ALVARO
(in Portuguese)
Now he speaks Portuguese.
CLICK, the gun jams.
ALVARO
(in Portuguese)
Fuck.
Neves rolls his head, in teasing reproach.
Smitty is watching in stunned disbelief.
Alvaro aims and tries again, CLICK, the gun is still jammed.
Smitty snaps out of it, steps forward and punches Alvaro hard
and square in the chin. Alvaro's knees buckle and he
stumbles back and slides against the police car.
Neves goes for his gun but Smitty reaches him too fast.
They struggle and Smitty pulls his head down into a front
head-lock, then knees him in the face, and then again.
Neves crumbles with blood flowing from his nose, covering his
face and shirt.
Alvaro is getting up unsteadily with wet eyes.
Smitty runs.
EXT. HIGHWAY ROADSIDE - CONTINUOUS
Smitty sprints up the embankment to the ROAR of the highway.
Twenty meters behind, Alvaro FIRES his pistol and climbs in
chase.
EXT. HIGHWAY - CONTINUOUS
Smitty reaches the edge of the highway with vehicles WHIZZING
past. He weaves across the three-lane roadway, cars HONKING
and swerving.
He gets to the other side, and looks back to see Alvaro
reluctant to step into the RUSHING traffic.
Alvaro raises his pistol at him and Smitty crouches and moves
up the road as PASSING cars separate them.
Then the traffic SLOWS to a stop, from a traffic light ahead,
and impoverished Street Venders move between the cars selling
snacks.
Alvaro smiles and starts crossing and FIRING, hitting several
Venders, STRIKING cars, and some civilians are hit.
Smitty and the remaining Venders hide behind vehicles and the
highway is QUIET.
The traffic light changes and cars begin MOVING.
Smitty pulls open a door to a Taxi, and the Taxi Driver looks
into his eyes.
RIO TAXI DRIVER
(in Portuguese)
Not my taxi.
SMITTY
(in English)
Sorry.
Smitty pulls him out, jumps in the taxi and starts to RACE
off.
INT. RIO TAXI - CONTINUOUS
The Taxi Driver reaches into the window and is being dragged
as Smitty drives.
RIO TAXI DRIVER
Not my taxi!
Smitty elbows him in the face and he tumbles away.
SMITTY
(in Portuguese)
I'm sorry.
EXT. HIGHWAY - CONTINUOUS
The taxi SPEEDS away.
Alvaro watches helplessly at the traffick jamming up behind
the vehicles with bullet holes in them, and a few Venders lay
bleeding on the highway.
Neves arrives from the roadside on his walkie-talkie.
INT. RIO TAXI (DRIVER POV) - CONTINUOUS
Smitty looks in his rearview mirror and sees a mass of
vehicles and bodies in the distance.
He sees the exit ramp, and goes for it.
EXT. EXIT RAMP - CONTINUOUS
Smitty's taxi SLOWS to turn down the exit ramp, and continues
to weave through traffic.
The taxi takes a sharp turn into a shaded neighborhood.
INT. RIO TAXI - CONTINUOUS
Smitty SPEEDS along littered streets, lined with concrete
huts and makeshift aluminum shelters.
A malnourished horse grazes on the garbage speckled grass
along the road.
He turns into another side street and then stops.
EXT. CITY SIDE STREET - CONTINUOUS
Smitty gets out and looks around the repressed neighborhood.
He holds up the car keys for all to see, then tosses them
onto the front seat.
The people on the street watch without reaction.
Then Smitty turns and runs.
EXT. CROWDED CITY STREET - DAY
Smitty rounds the corner into a crowded street and forces
himself to slow down.
He picks some sunglasses from a street vender and pays her.
SMITTY
(in Portuguese)
Thanks.
He covers his swollen and bruised eyes with the big glasses,
then looks at her for approval.
SMITTY (CONT'D)
How's that?
She looks at his torn and bloody shirt, and shakes her head.
He takes it off and tosses it to her, then moves along the
street, blending in with other shirtless people, although a
bit lighter skin.
INT. STREET CAFE - DAY
Smitty ducks into a small street cafe filled with locals who
observe him with disinterest.
He moves to the corner and pulls out his cell phone.
INT. EMBASSY OFFICE - DAY
A small office is packed, file boxes cover the floor and the
walls are decorated with photos of politicians.
Old institutional furniture supports an antiquated computer
and a name plate: David Cheeney, Economic Director, U.S.
Embassy.
DAVID, in his early thirties is small and bald with an ill
fitting suit and thick glasses.
He is looking at amateur pornography on his small computer
when the phone RINGS. He quickly closes the browser window
and picks up the phone.
DAVID
(quietly - in English)
David Cheeney.
SMITTY'S VOICE
(through the phone - in
English)
David, it's Smitty.
DAVID
Hey buddy, thought you would be on
the plane by now.
INT. STREET CAFE - DAY - INTERCUT AS DESIRED
Smitty turns toward the wall and lights a cigarette
nervously, tries to lower his emphatic voice.
SMITTY
I'm in big trouble.
DAVID
No shit, I can't believe you
submitted that, to Thorton!
Smitty drops his head in regret, then looks around him in
tense fear.
SMITTY
It's not about work!
(pause)
I got stopped at the airport, they
thought I was carrying drugs, some
cops kicked the shit out of me.
David sits up, pauses.
DAVID
Didn't they know who you are?
SMITTY
When they found out, they took me
under some fuckin highway, they
were gonna shoot me right fuckin'
there!
David rolls his eyes and dismisses the possibility.
DAVID
Then what happened, Hulkamania?
SMITTY
DO I SOUND LIKE I'M FUCKIN' JOKING!
The people in the cafe all look at him annoyed.
DAVID
All right, all right. Jesus.
(pause)
What happened? Where are you now?
SMITTY
I fuckin' ran, I'm in Centro now.
Gonna swing by Margarita's place.
(looks at watch)
I can be at the office by seven.
(pause)
And don't tell... anyone, yet.
DAVID
All right Smitty, just hurry up.
INT. MARGARITA'S APARTMENT - DAY
The door is BANGING to the small and cozy apartment.
MARGARITA is beautiful, in underpants and a T-shirt with long
dark kinky hair.
She gets up from watching TV and goes to the door with a
cigarette in her mouth, peeking through the eyehole.
MARGARITA
(in Portuguese)
Who is it?
She opens the door to Smitty, shirtless, looking haggard
behind his sunglasses.
MARGARITA (CONT'D)
(in English)
What the fuck are you doing here?
SMITTY
(in English)
Nice fuckin' mouth, expecting
someone else?
MARGARITA
(in Portuguese)
Did you miss your flight?
Smitty walks past her and goes to the refrigerator, CRACKS a
beer.
MARGARITA (CONT'D)
What happened to your shirt?
Smitty sits down on the couch, waves her over and she sits on
the ground between his legs.
SMITTY
(annoyed)
Speak fuckin' English.
She takes off his sunglasses.
MARGARITA
(in English)
My God sweetie, what happened?
Smitty shakes his head and takes a long pull of his beer.
SMITTY
Rio's finest.
MARGARITA
Did this happen at the airport?
Smitty looks at her for a moment.
SMITTY
Yeah, at the airport. I gotta get
to the office, drive me?
MARGARITA
Of course, but clean up first?
Smitty touches the bruises on his face, then takes her
cigarette, smoking deeply.
SMITTY
They were gonna fucking shoot me
right there.
MARGARITA
How did you get away?
SMITTY
(showing his swollen hand)
I fought my way out.
She reads him uncertainly.
MARGARITA
What do you know about fighting?
You're so tranquil.
He glares at her, and drinks more.
SMITTY
Not all the time.
She buys his sincerity.
MARGARITA
You're safe now.
She starts to unbutton his jeans.
MARGARITA (CONT'D)
Here, let's get in the shower.
SMITTY
(looking away)
I think I pissed my pants.
INT. BATHROOM POLICE HEADQUARTERS - DAY
CHIEF LEONARDO RIVERA is working his teeth with a toothpick.
He is in his fifties, with deep dark skin, penetrating eyes,
and a shiny bald head.
Rivera's huge mouth takes up the entire mirror of the small
public bathroom. He is immaculately dressed in a dark suit,
and checks his smile for any remaining debris.
Running FOOTSTEPS approach outside the door.
The door POUNDS open and FRESCO, thirty, small, white, with a
weak chin, arrives out-of-breath.
FRESCO
(in Portuguese)
There was problem at the airport.
Fresco turns and runs back the way he came.
Rivera ignores him, takes a deep breath, looks at his profile
in the mirror, and steps into the toilet stall.
TO BE CONTINUED
About this entry
You’re currently reading “Brazil Run - draft 1 (15 pages),” an entry on Stone Productions, Independent Filmmaking by Stone Korshak
- Published:
- 02.26.07 / 8pm
- Category:
- Screenplays
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