BRAZIL
Screenplay by
Terry Gilliam, Tom Stoppard & Charles McKeown
Final Draft
Copyright (C) October 1983
EXT. CITYSCAPE - SUNSET
A beautiful golden sun is setting. The sky is on fire. The
CAMERA starts to move downwards. A large neon sign rises
into shot. It rests on top of a skyscraper and fills the
frame. The building is neither past nor future in design
but a bit of both.
Slowly we pan downwards revealing the city that spreads
below... A glittering conglomeration of elevated transport
tubes, smaller square buildings which are merely huge,
with, here and there, the comparatively minuscule relics
of previous ages of architecture, pavement level awnings
suggesting restaurants and shops... Transparent tubes carry
whizzing transport cages past us... an elevated highway
carrying traffic composed primarily of large transport
lorries passes through frame. As we descend, the sunlight
is blocked out and street lights & neon signs take over as
illumination. Eventually we reach the upper levels of a
plush shopping precinct.
INT. SHOPPING PRECINCT - NIGHT
Xmas decorations are everywhere. PEOPLE are busy buying,
ogling, discussing, choosing wisely from the goodies on
display. SHOPPERS are going by laden with superbly packaged
goods... the shop windows are full of elaborately boxed
and be-ribboned who-knows-what. In one window is a bank of
TV sets on the great majority of the screens is the face
of Mr. Helpmann the Deputy Minister of Information. He is
being interviewed. No-one bothers to listen to Helpmann.
INTERVIEWER
Deputy minister, what do you believe
is behind this recent increase in
terrorist bombings?
HELPMANN
Bad sportsmanship. A ruthless
minority of people seems to have
forgotten certain good old fashioned
virtues. They just can't stand
seeing the other fellow win. If
these people would just play the
game, instead of standing on the
touch line heckling
INTERVIEWER
In fact, killing people
HELPMANN
In fact, killing people they'd
get a lot more out of life.
We PULL AWAY from the shop to concentrate on the shoppers.
Helpmann's voice carries over the rest of the scene.
INTERVIEWER
Mr. Helpmann, what would you say
to those critics who maintain that
the Ministry Of Information has
become too large and unwieldy... ?
HELPMANN
David... in a free society
information is the name of the
game. You can't win the game if
you're a man short.
Fur bedecked shoppers pass in front of what appears to be
banks of snow but as we pan along with them the "snow"
turns out to be fire-fighting foam. It oozes out of a shop
front that is a charred twisted mass of metal frames.
WORKMEN are busily sealing the opening with plywood sheets,
SHOPPERS pay no attention to this. Xmas carols are being
played by a Salvation Army style band calling themselves
Consumers For Christ. Santa Claus's grotto is busy, all is
well with the world.
INTERVIEWER
And the cost of it all, Deputy
Minister? Seven percent of the
gross national produce...
HELPMANN
I understand this concern on behalf
of the tax-payers. People want
value for money and a cost-effective
service.
INT. OFFICE - NIGHT
CUT TO TV screen with Helpmann still talking.
HELPMANN
That is why we always insist on
the principle of Information
Retrieval Charges. These terrorists
are not pulling their weight, and
it's absolutely right and fair
that those found guilty should pay
for their periods of detention and
the Information Retrieval Procedures
used in their interrogation.
PULL BACK to reveal a rather clinical office. The TV rests
on a desk. A WHITE COATED TECHNICIAN is sorting out his in-
tray. Several Christmas cards are amongst he paperwork. He
comes upon a Christmassy package which he rips open, to
discover a shiny, metal "executive toy".
CUT TO:
THE BEETLE
Droning up near the ceiling.
The Technician is disturbed by the buzz of the BEETLE as
it whirrs around the fluorescent light. He rolls up some
paper and forms and gets up to swat the insect.
INT. OFFICE - NIGHT
The Technician gets up and balances a chair on top of his
desk. He climbs up onto it attempting to swat the Beetle
still buzzing about the room just out of reach. Beneath
him an automatic type-writing machine rattles away compiling
a typed list of names under the heading "Information
Retrieval, Subjects For Detention & Interview". The machine
is being fed from a spool of paper which is being
rhythmically chopped by an automatic guillotine which neatly
leaves each name on a separate sheet, with the title above
each name, each sheet following its predecessor into a
holding basket. In CLOSEUP we see the names on the sheets
of paper building up in the holding basket: "TONSTED,
Simon... TOPPER, Martin F... TROLLOPE, Benjamin G... TURB,
William K... TURNER, John D..." Every name begins with T.
INTERVIEWER
Do you think that the government
is winning the battle against
terrorists?
HELPMANN
On yes. Our morale is much higher
than theirs, we're fielding all
their strokes, running a lot of
them out, and pretty consistently
knocking them for six. I'd say
they're nearly out of the game.
The Technician is tottering on one leg on the chair on the
desk as he strains to swat the Beetle. Swish, swash, oops,
WHAP! Gottcha!!
INTERVIEWER
But the bombing campaign is now in
its thirteenth year...
HELPMANN
Beginner's luck.
The Beetle's career comes to a halt... squashed flat on
the brilliantly clean ceiling... or has it? As the
Technician clambers down from the rickety heights, the
Beetle's carcass comes unstuck from the ceiling and drops
silently into the typewriting machine which hiccoughs,
hesitates and then types the letter "B" and hesitates and
then continues so that the next name is Buttle, Archibald.
The Technician fails to notice this and the machine
continues smoothly "TUTWOOD, Thomas T... TUZCZLOW, Peter..."
INTERVIEWER
Thank you very much, Deputy
Minister.
HELPMANN
Thank you, David... and a very
merry Christmas to you all.
EXT. HOUSING TOWERS - NIGHT
ZOOMING past foreground outdoor Xmas decorations we TIGHTEN
in on one of several massive residential tower blocks that
loom over what appears to be a poorer part of the city
INT. BUTTLE FLAT - NIGHT
Helpmann and Interviewer are on the TV, the end credits
rolling over them to the beat of a Mozart theme tune.
PULLING BACK we reveal that the TV is in a conventional
sitting room, conventionally decorated for Christmas; out
the room is oddly encumbered by huge metal conduits that
snake unpleasantly across and through the walls. Smaller
conduits radiate from the main one connecting the various
services that Central Services (the name emblazoned on the
metal) supply to this household. A conventionally poor but
proud family occupies the room. MRS. BUTTLE is reading
Dickens' Christmas Carol to GIRL BUTTLE who is about six.
BOY BUTTLE plays quietly with a toy machine gun and some
action men dressed in security gear. MR. BUTTLE is putting
the final touches to a neatly wrapped Christmas present
which looks identical to the "executive toy" we have just
seen in he Technician's office.
Faintly from outside comes a burst of laughter. A tilt of
the CAMERA indicates that the laughter is coming from the
floor above.
INT. JILL'S FLAT - NIGHT
The flat is very bare and basic. The laughter is coming
from a cheap portable television showing "Sgt. Bilko. From
BILKO'S POV we look through an open door of a bathroom
straight at a mirror propped up by the bath, to enable the
person in the bath to watch the TV. The person in the bath
is JILL LAYTON, washing the grime off herself while she
watches Bilko in the mirror. From her POV in the mirror,
the TV screen is suddenly obscured by part of the body of
a MAN in uniform.
JILL
(scared)
Who's there?
INT. BUTTLE'S FLAT - NIGHT
The Buttle Family as before. Mrs. Buttle is closing the
book.
MRS. BUTTLE
There, that's enough for tonight.
He won't come Xmas Eve if you don't
get plenty of sleep.
GIRL BUTTLE
Father Christmas can't come if we
haven't got a chimney.
MRS. BUTTLE
You'll see.
The Girl exchanges goodnight kisses with her parents and
leaves the room.
GIRL BUTTLE
How will he get down from upstairs?
BOY BUTTLE
It's a secret.
We follow Girl Buttle out of the sitting room into...
INT. HALLWAY AND CHILDREN'S BEDROOM - NIGHT
Girl Buttle enters her bedroom. There is little or no light
there, and she sees a bulky figure apparently lowering
himself into the room from the direction of the ceiling.
GIRL BUTTLE
(unalarmed)
You've come...
As she moves, the light from the hallway shows us the figure
of what looks like a commando on a night raid, slowly
sliding down a pole in he middle of the room. The pole at
the top end disappears through a hole in the ceiling. Things
become immediately clearer
INT. BUTTLE SITTING-ROOM - NIGHT
Crash! It's a raid! Battle-dressed SECURITY TROOPS smash
trough the door. Another one, swings from a rope, kicks in
the window from the outside and enters that way. Most
alarmingly of all, a shower of plaster comes down from the
ceiling in which a fairly neat round hole appears and
through the hole comes a fireman's pole down which slide
TWO MORE SECURITY TROOPS. The whole thing is short, brutal
and violent.
Buttle is grabbed violently and stuffed into a baglike
canvas device that covers him from head to waist. A metal
clamp goes round his neck, a metal bar slides up the back
of the bag. His hands are handcuffed to the metal bar. In
seconds he has become a canvas parcel. Meanwhile, Girl
Buttle has been carried out of her bedroom and dumped into
the lap of her screaming mother. Boy Buttle has his toy
machine gun knocked out of his hands by a Trooper who we
see is identical in dress to the action men Boy Buttle has
been playing with. He rushes to his mother as guns are
viciously trained on them. Troops are kicking open the
doors of other rooms and generally doing a good job. An
OFFICIAL, wearing plain clothes, now enters from the front
door and during the turmoil is reading aloud from an
official document. It goes something like this:
OFFICIAL
I hereby inform you under powers
entrusted to me under Section 47,
Paragraph 7 of Council Order Number
438476, that Mr. Buttle, Archibald,
residing at 412 North Tower, Shangri
La Towers, has been invited to
assist the Ministry of Information
with certain enquiries, the nature
of which may be ascertained on
completion of application form
BZ/ST/486/C fourteen days within
this date, and that he is liable
to certain obligations as specified
in Council Order 173497, including
financial restitutions which may
or may not be incurred if
Information Retrieval procedures
beyond those incorporated in Article
7 subsections 8, 10 & 32 are
required to elicit information
leading to permanent arrest
notification of which will he served
with the time period of 5 working
days as stipulated by law. In that
instance the detainee will be
debited without further notice
through central banking procedures
without prejudice until and unless
at such a time when re-imbursement
procedures may be instituted by
you or third parties on completion
of a re-imbursement form
RB/CZ/907/X...
... and more of the same, most of which is part of the
audible wall paper while the chaos reigns. As the front
door slams behind the captive relative peace returns, broken
by Mrs. Buttle's anguished sobbing.
OFFICIAL
(proffering a pen
and a thick book
of pink receipts
to Mrs. Buttle)
Sign here please.
MRS. BUTTLE
(dazed; she signs
weakly)
What? Where have you taken him?
OFFICIAL
(taking the book)
Thank you.
(he hands her another
book, this one of
blue receipts)
(indicating place
to sign)
Same again please. Just there.
(checking first
book of receipts)
Press harder his time. Good.
MRS. BUTTLE
(signing again)
What is this all about?
OFFICIAL
(tearing out sheet
from pink book)
That's your receipt for your
husband.
(taking blue book
from her)
Thank you. And this is my receipt
for your receipt.
(he turns to leave
along with troopers)
Jill's shocked face appears looking down through the hole
in the ceiling. The faces of the workmen BILL and CHARLIE
also appear, above and behind her.
JILL
Mrs. Buttle, are you alright?
The helmeted Security Troops in Buttle's flat drop to
defensive positions and swing their machine guns up towards
the hole in the ceiling. All three faces retreat.
INT. JILL'S FLAT - NIGHT
CHARLIE
(starting back from
the hole with Bill
and Jill)
Eh! Eh! Eh! We're Department of
Works! Department of Works up here!
Careful with those bloody things!
Jill, Charlie and Bill are hustled aside by a SECURITY MAN
who clears the fireman's pole from the hole. We can see
the Troops in the room below leaving. A SECOND SECURITY
MAN has untied a rope hanging out of the open window. He
coils the rope up neatly and the two Security Men leave
the flat.
BILL
(to Jill as they
watch this highly
efficient operation)
Don't take any notice, love, it's
their training makes them like
animals. Best in the world, though.
JILL
Who are you?
CHARLIE
Don't you worry love, we'll have
everything shipshape in a jiffy.
BILL
That's it. Nothing to worry about.
CHARLIE
It's Buttle downstairs who can
worry, eh?
JILL
There must be some mistake... Mr.
Buttle's harmless...
BILL
We don't make mistakes.
So saying, he drops the manhole cover, which is faced with
same material as the floor, over the hole in the floor. To
his surprise it drops neatly through the floor into the
flat below.
CHARLIE
Bloody typical, they've gone back
to metric without telling us
INT. BUTTLES' FLAT - NIGHT
Mrs. Buttle stands stunned in the middle of her decimated
flat. The kids wail. Slowly Mrs. Buttle collapses slumping
to the floor with the receipt in her hand: we tighten into
CLOSEUP of "Receipt".
JILL (O.S.)
Mrs. Buttle? Mrs. Buttle?
INT. RECORD CLERK'S POOL - DAY
We come in on a CLOSE-UP of a pink version of the RECEIPT
being stamped and impaled on desk spike as we PULL OUT to
reveal an infinite expanse of regularly arranged metal
desks, each desk with a built-in TV console, and each
(except one) occupied by a CLERK. Every desk is snowed
under with pieces of paper much like the receipts seen in
the previous scene. More pacers are delivered to each desk
intermittently by way of pneumatic tube. OFFICE BOYS bustle
about with even more paperwork. From the back of the room
we get a view of the screens which show graphs, tabulations,
figures... All of this activity is supervised from an
elevated walkway by MR. KURTZMAN. Satisfied that all is
well with his clerks he turns and walks towards his glass
enclosed private office at the top of the room, his name
lettered on the opaque glass door. Mr. Kurtzman goes through
this door and as he closes it behind him, all activity in
the Clerks pool ceases. each Clerk adjusts his TV screen
with the flick of a switch, and all the screens change to
something which looks very like "The Good, The Bad And The
Ugly".
INT. MR. KURTZMAN'S OFFICE - DAY
Mr. Kurtzman also has a TV console. He sits behind his
desk, reaches for his In-tray, and without looking at the
console he turns his screen on. He looks through a number
of files in his In-tray. He is surprised to hear a VOICE
say, "Turn around real slow, amigo". Mr. Kurtzman turns
around real slow, his expression relaxes, he thumps his TV
console with a large fist, and the screen obediently flicks
to a display of figures. He picks up a file which we see
as marked "Buttle, Archibald". He opens the file and starts
punching the keyboard of the console. The TV starts bleeping
in an alarmed way. Mr. Kurtzman is puzzled. He punches
more figures. The screen starts to flash "Error, error,
error". Mr. Kurtzman sighs with frustration. He presses an
intercom.
MR. KURTZMAN
(into intercom)
Mr. Lowry, will you step in here
please?
He returns his attention, puzzled to the file. Nobody comes
into the office. Mr. Kurtzman gets up and walks over to
his door and opens it. Beyond the door the room full of
CLERKS is obediently concentrating on the bleeping and
whirring consoles. From Mr. Kurtzman's POV we see that in
the centre of the room is an unoccupied desk.
MR. KURTZMAN
Does anyone know where Lowry is?
Nobody knows. Mr. Kurtzman closes his door again. A moment
later it seems to him, and to us, that he has heard the
crash of six guns blazing away at each other. He re-opens
the door. The only sound again. He goes back to his desk.
He punches a few keys. The machine starts emitting even
more alarming beeps, then horse whinnies, then "Admit you're
whupped, you drygulching scum". Kurtzman explodes with
anger, and presses the intercom again.
MR. KURTZMAN
(shouting into
intercom)
Where the hell is Sam Lowry?!
EXT. SKY - DAY
CUT TO brilliantly clear sky. From on high an odd bird-
like figure swoops down on the CAMERA. As it comes closer
we can see that it is, in fact, a MAN wearing strange wood
and metal bird wings. In the bright sunshine their flapping
movements create a brilliant, flashing effect. Along with
the wings, SAM LOWRY (for this is he) wears an outfit that
combines the best of Flash Gordon and a WWI fighter pilot.
He sweeps past the CAMERA and then, banking, rises BACK
INTO SHOT IN MEDIUM CLOSEUP. An ethereal voice can be heard
calling "Sam... Sam... Sam". He hovers, looking beyond the
CAMERA to something wonderful. CUT TO face of stunningly
beautiful GIRL, she is the idealised twin of Jill Layton...
Her long hair swirls across her face partially obscuring
it and making her appear slightly mysterious. The CAMERA
PULLS AWAY from her as soft billowing material sinuously
undulates about her. It rises and falls like waves carried
on the wind. As the CAMERA GLIDES BACK through this sea of
gossamer we can see that the Girl is being held aloft by
and in it. A vast landscape stretches below her. The sun
frames her in the sky. She and Sam are engaged in a
beautiful sensual aerial ballet.
Romantic music fills the soundtrack.
Sam swoops up and away. The Girl floats in the distance as
Sam. rises in the foreground. She beckons to him. Sam begins
to flap back towards her. But then the dreamy quality of
this scene is interrupted by threatening rumble. Sam looks
down.
The ground far below him suddenly erupts as a massive,
monolithic stone skyscraper bursts through the surface and
soars upwards with a mighty rush.
CUT TO THE GIRL IN LONG SHOT. The monolith rises up into
FRAME partially cutting her off from view.
Before Sam can do anything, another stone skyscraper breaks
through the ground and rushes upwards. Then another and
another. There is nothing Sam can do. The Girl is being
cut of from him by these gigantic faceless structures. And
then she is finally lost from view somewhere in the depths
of this strange stone metropolis. Sam lies closer. The
stone skyscrapers appear to be solid. No windows. No doors.
Nothing whatsoever to interfere with their clean, harsh,
rectilinear design. As he flies among these towering blocks
he sees no sign of the Girl, only sheer walls rising high
above him. Below him the walls plummet vertiginously into
the darkish streets. No sound but the creaking flapping of
his wings can he heard in this dead place. Coming round a
corner he sees something in the distance. far below him a
dark procession is wending its way through the narrow
passages... away from him.
CUT TO:
LOW ANGLE SHOT
Of the procession making its way past the CAMERA. Black-
robed and cowled, the sinister figures look like heavily
armed monks. These are the FORCES OF DARKNESS. Together
they are straining at several heavy hawsers that rise in
long arcs up to a huge metal cage floating above and behind
the procession. Binding the cage are metal straps to which
ropes are attached. Inside is the Girl still enveloped in
gossamer which billows as if there were a breeze in constant
attendance.
CUT TO:
SAM
As he dives out of shot.
CUT TO:
THE FORCES OF DARKNESS
Suddenly stopping in their tracks. They've seen something.
CUT TO:
THEIR POV
There at the end of the passage between two stone
skyscrapers stands Sam... barring the way.
CUT TO:
SWORDS BEING UNSHEATHED
Cowls being thrown back. Underneath are rotting, broken
dolls' faces. All the faces are the same except for the
manner in which they have decayed. They smile slobbering,
sickeningly. Suddenly the robed bodies change shape some
rising up to become long, others expanding sideways to
become bulbous, others shrinking. From the folds of cloth
come evil weapons. The Forces are massed ready to charge.
CUT TO LONG SHOT of Sam. He removes his arms from his wings
and folds the wings behind him. He is ready.
CUT TO:
THE FORCES
Nothing moves... except for the
constant dribble from their cracked
mouths.
CUT BACK TO SAM
Stillness. The tension is unbearable. Suddenly Sam unleashes
a terrifying scream and charges the fearsome horde. Unarmed!
CUT TO:
THE FORCES
Thundering down to Sam. Weapons
flailing madly.
Sam skillfully dodges the swordthrust of the leading field,
and karate chops him senseless at the same time catching
his sword as he falls. Spinning around he parries a
spearthrust and skewers a third attacker. Slash! Hack!
Stab! He lays waste to the Forces. Nothing can stop this
boy. The pile of black-robed bodies grows with each swing
of Sam's sword. Wham! Bam! Smash! Sam carves his way through
the mob with nary a scratch. And then, suddenly, they are
all dead, but a heap of blackness to commemorate Sam's
prowess. The Girl is beaming as Sam makes his way toward
the hawsers holding the cage. But then a noise behind him
makes him turn. There, behind him the pile of black shapes
begin to rise. The ropes become a mass of flapping black
cloth. This evil churning cloud coalesces and lifts off
the ground. The horrible flapping apparition emits a
terrifying maniacal laughter as it flies away. Sam is about
to rush after it to halt its escape but is stopped by the
sound of a telephone ringing. He looks around confused.
INT. SAM'S BEDROOM - MORNING
TIGHT SHOT of telephone. The ringing continues. A hand
grapples with the receiver. Sam is in bed in a darkened
room. Sleepily he drags receiver to his ear.
SAM
Hello... What... what? Oh... Mr.
Kurtzman!... You're up late. Oh,
is it?
There is an electronic box of tricks by his bed,
incorporating an alarm. Sam thumps it. The alarm goes off.
This sets of a series of other things... The window shutters
roll up letting in the morning light. Both taps turn on in
the bathroom...
SAM
(into phone)
The electronics here are up the
spout. Yours too, sir? Don't worry
sir I'll be there.
Sam puts down the phone and gets into his suit which is
moving towards him. Noticing one of his film posters is
loose he pushes the pin in firmly.
In the kitchen a coffee maker starts up. In the sitting
room the television switches on. Back in the bedroom a
cupboard door springs open and a rack slides out with Sam's
clothes neatly hanging ready to be put on. Sam comes out
of the bathroom, having turned off the bath taps, and starts
to get dressed. In the kitchen the coffee- maker has
finished making s small pot of coffee. Sam pours a quick
cup and is gone at the door. Throughout all this we have
had a chance to get a glimpse of Sam's flat. It is
functional, soulless and, though neat, has not been
assembled with a loving hand. Most of the furnishings are
built in. The walls are divided into two-foot square metal
panels painted a non-committal colour. Certain of the wall
panels have Central Services logos on them with the
admonition "Do not obstruct or remove" below. Sam has
livened his bedroom up with large and colorful film posters.
The sitting room sports several framed pictures of wide
beautiful vistas.
INT. MINISTRY OF INFORMATION LOBBY - DAY
This is a gigantic, vaguely 30's monumental-style building.
The lobby is a vast impressive space containing reception
desks, fountains, statues etc. Prominent are the security
measures, which include automatic mobile cameras, video
screens and groups of SECURITY MEN who search all who enter.
Sam is finishing going through Security when he meets JACK
who is on his way out of the building.
JACK
Sam!
SAM
Jack!
JACK
Long time no see!
SAM
Well, since you disappeared up the
ladder of Information Retrieval...
I don't expect to see you slumming
in Records what's the problem?
JACK
Problem? No problem. Yes,
everything's going fantastically
well, wonderful, marvelous, great
career prospects, Alison in great
shape, kids fine, beautiful home,
I'm on Security Level Five now,
and Mr. Helpmann relies on me more
and more, yes, couldn't be better,
I feel terrifically motivated and
job- rewarded
SAM
You sound worried.
JACK
Me? if I'm worried about anyone,
it's you. What happened to you,
Sam? You were the brightest of us.
As they have been talking, a nearby bank of closed circuit
TV screens has been displaying shots of people entering
the lobby. As each one enters the CAMERA ZOOMS IN TIGHT on
their faces for a frozen CLOSEUP. Jill has just entered
and the CAMERA ZOOMS IN and freezes on her face. Sam happens
to glance up at this moment. He is startled the over-
exposed TV image is the face of the GIRL FROM THE DREAM.
The face is only there a few seconds before being replaced
by another picture. Sam looks about to see where the Girl
is, but Jill, in overalls, has her back to him as she stands
in the queue for the Information desk and so there is no-
one even vaguely reminiscent of the Dream Girl. Sam decides
he must have imagined it. Over this Jack has been talking.
JACK
What's the matter?
SAM
Sorry. Nothing.
(snapping out of it)
See you I'm going to be late.
JACK
(looking at his
watch)
You are late.
SAM
Even later.
JACK
Sam, your life is going wrong let
your friends tell you Records is
a dead end department, no Security
Level worth a damn, it's impossible
to get noticed
SAM
Yes, I know, fantastic, marvellous,
wonderful remember me to Alison
and the er.. Twins.
JACK
Triplets.
SAM
Really? God, how time flies!
As Sam heads off to the lift, he passes a group of MEN
standing around a temporary TV monitor. Several of them
are dressed in white lab coats. They are being explained
the benefits of a new surveillance system by a salesman
type. His assistant is operating the controls. On the
monitor we can see Jill standing in the queue for the
Information desk. The CAMERA appears to he tracking in on
her.
CUT TO:
JILL
At top of queue with several forms in her hand. A strange
prototype radio controlled camera on a wheeled base is
whirring and clicking as it approaches her. Throughout the
next sequence it pokes around Jill in an annoying manner
thrusting itself at her face, trying to see what is written
on the forms, peering over her shoulder. Jill hands a form
to the Information Porter.
JILL
I want to report a wrongful arrest.
PORTER
(looking at form)
You want Information Adjustments.
Different department.
JILL
(exasperated but
controlled)
I've been to Information
Adjustments. They sent me here.
They told me you had a form I had
to fill in.
PORTER
Have you got an Arrest Receipt?
JILL
Yes.
PORTER
Is it stamped?
JILL
(producing Buttle
receipt)
Stamped?
PORTER
(examining receipt)
No, there's no stamp on it. You
see! I can't give you the form
until it's stamped.
JILL
Where do I get it stamped?
PORTER
Information Adjustments.
The radio-controlled camera noses right up to Jill's face
as she turns. She swats the annoying thing with her stack
of forms as she storms off. The camera overbalances and
crashes into the desk sparking and spluttering.
CUTTING BACK TO THE GROUP AROUND THE MONITOR
We see a deeply hurt SALESMAN and several sceptical white-
coated TECHNICIANS.
INT. MR. KURTZMAN'S OFFICE - DAY
Sam is busily working at the console, unraveling a problem
while Kurtzman looks on anxiously and ineffectually.
KURTZMAN
Perhaps the machine's on the blink!
It keeps picking up old films.
That can't he right, can it?
SAM
It's not the machine. There's a
mismatch on the personnel code
numbers... Ah there we go! That's
a B58/732 when it should be a
T47/215... Tuttle... he should