Who Loses Wins script, sas murder joe on the way to asylum [ bottom ]


            EXT. THE COMING-1. - DAY

              Australian countryside. From a helicopter. Low. Across
            meandering rivers. Fast. 

            The SOUND of two helicopters. Travelling close, rotors
            BEATING -- POCK-POCK.

            EXT. THE POLICE STATION REAR-1 - DAY

            A police wagon with rear door open waits at the rear of the
            Donga-Donga Police Station. 

            BRUCE (a typical POLICEMAN) waiting. Passing time of day. 

            The SOUND of two helicopters. Distant. Faint. Rotors-BEATING.

            EXT. THE COMING-2 - DAY

            Australian countryside. From a helicopter. Low. A country
            town approaching. Donga-Donga.

            EXT. THE POLICE STATION REAR-2 - DAY

            Bruce looking to the sky. To the SOUND of two helicopters.
            Getting louder. Nearly overhead. 

            The rear door of the Police Station opens. 

            JOE SMITH (50) appears through the door. Flannelette shirt
            and jeans. Greying hair. Spectacles. Slim build. Frontally
            handcuffed. Accompanied by BILL (a typical POLICEMAN) holding
            his arm. Ushers Joe towards the open door of the Police
            wagon.

            EXT. THE COMING-3 - DAY

            P.O.V.; A helicopter. The town. From the air. Passing low.
            Buildings. Streets. PEOPLE looking up. 

            EXT. THE POLICE STATION REAR-3 - DAY

            Bruce looking upwards. Joe looking upwards. Bill looking
            upwards, holding Joe's arm. Towards the SOUND of two
            helicopters flying overhead. Low. Fast. Black. Sinister.

            EXT. THE PASSING.- DAY

            TWO helicopters. Passing overhead. Travelling low. Travelling
            fast. BOTH unmarked. Dark. Evil-looking. A fleeting glimpse.

            EXT. THE POLICE STATION REAR-4 - DAY

            Bruce turning from looking at the helicopters. Grabbing Joe's
            other arm. Joe and Bill returning from the distraction.

                                JOE
                          (to Bill, grinning) 
                      Wonder what the SAS is up to?

                                BILL
                          (querulously)
                      SAS? 
                          (sarcastically)
                      Yeah, Yeah, numnut!

            BOTH policemen help Joe into the rear of the Police wagon. 

            Bruce gets in after Joe. 

            Bill closes the wagon door. Locks it. Walks round to the
            wagon front. Gets in. Starts the wagon. Drives off.

            EXT. THE JOURNEY COMMENCES - DAY

            A Police wagon traversing crowded Donga-Donga streets.

            EXT. THE ASYLUM-GATES - DAY

            The front entrance of an Insane Asylum. Wrought-iron gates.
            Open. High walls. On the wall, a sign;

            "ST PAULS HOSPITAL FOR THE MENTALLY IMPAIRED."

            EXT. THE SAS WAGON ARRIVAL - DAY

            A black Ford-Transit-style vehicle. Sinister. High- powered.
            Slicks. Darkened windows. Enters through the Asylum gates.
            SPINS its wheels on entry. Black tyre - SMOKE. Gravel FLYING.
            Disappears into the winding road Asylum entry.

            EXT. THE NEWS-STAND-1 - DAY

            Outside the Asylum gates. A small bus shelter. For the Asylum
            employees, visitors. A small wood paper-sellers booth. A news
            stand, closed. Two billboards outside. Billboard notices
            torn, old.

            The "AUSTRALIAN" BILLBOARD
            "FEDERAL PARLIAMENT UNANIMOUSLY VOTE TO PUT PURGATIVE
            IN WATER SUPPLY TO STOP INCREASING NUMBER OF "EXCREMENTER"
            ACTIVISTS."
            The "SUN" BILLBOARD
            "PURGATIVE IN WATER SUPPLY? WE SAY IT'S A LOAD OF CRAP!"

            INT. MINISTERIAL SUITE-1 - DAY

            Canberra. Parliament buildings in distance. 

            A small private dining room. A table - for - two. Sumptuously
            laid with food and wine. A window. The main spire. The
            Australian flag flying. 

            The P.M. And the D.M. Dine. "Ministerial" dress. 

            A table laid with too - much food for - two. Rich food.
            Extravagant.

                                P.M.
                          (concerned)
                      You had better be right, Defence
                      Minister. We cannot have public
                      disobedience on the scale experienced in
                      Donga-Donga.

            The D.M. Smiles. A frightened smile. 

            The P.M. Greedily stuffs food into his mouth.

                                P.M. (cont'd)
                          (mouth full)
                      It was lucky you had a witness to how he
                      does it. You can't prosecute someone for
                      merely expressing an opinion, no matter
                      how many people are convinced. But the
                      use of hypnosis to accomplish what he did
                      is interference in free-will and
                      tantamount to conspiracy. No individual
                      must be allowed to manipulate the Public
                      in that manner ever again!

            The SOUND of two helicopters. Low-level. Distant.

            The D.M. Looks around. Scared. As if he hears them.

            EXT. THE ASYLUM-1 - DAY

            The Insane Asylum. Viewed from an helicopter. Travelling low.
            Travelling fast. 

            ANOTHER helicopter close-by. 

            BOTH are unmarked. Dark. Evil-looking. 

            The Asylum. Very large historic building. Large green
            grounds. Many cars parked outside building. 

            INMATES meandering. Playing simple games. Close to the
            building. 

            SOME accompanied by NURSES, FAMILY. 

            PEOPLE look upwards. 

            At the SOUND. EVIL beating -- POCK - POCK. 

            SOME puzzled. SOME INMATES frightened. THESE consoled. 

            A long winding narrow road. From the Asylum building. Through
            the Asylum grounds. In and out of clumps of trees, on bush
            like hills. Helicopter SHADOWS speeding over the ground. 

            The BLACK shape of an SAS MAN. Through the helicopter exit
            door. Somehow, POINTING out the SHADOW.

            Appropriate MUSIC. Over next two scenes. 

            EXT. THE ASYLUM-2 - DAY

            A black Ford transit wagon pulls off the Asylum road.
            Continues up to a clump of trees.  On a hill. Some 100 metres
            from the road. Comes to a halt. Out of sight. Inconspicuously
            stopping. The hill some 500 metres from the Asylum gates.

            EXT. THE SAS DEPLOY-1 - DAY

            The driver (ANCHOR) and the passenger (LEADER) get out.
            Urgently. 

            BOTH dressed in inconspicuous overalls. 

            BOTH NEVER FACIALLY SEEN. 

            Leader carries a small black briefcase, like his life depends
            on it. They run round to the back of the Transit. 

            Anchor opens the Transit rear doors. Takes off his overalls.
            A black SAS outfit on underneath. Picks up a black balaclava
            from a box inside the rear of the Transit. Puts it on. Does
            the same with an SAS headset radio-communicator. Adjusts it.
            Urgent-like. Picks up a long black case from within the
            wagon. Looks like a rifle-case. Waits. 

            Leader repeats Anchor's attire-change actions, turns to face
            him. Holding his black briefcase. 

            The SOUND of two helicopters. Getting closer. 

            Leader looks to the sky. The eyes through the slits in his
            black balaclava concerned. Anticipating. Urgent.

                                D.M. (V.O.)
                      I have taken consultation, Prime Minister
                      and, I assure you that it will be
                      alright.

            INT MINISTERIAL SUITE-2 - DAY

            BACK TO :	The small private dining room. 

            The D.M. Is unsure. Moves his bottom emitting a silent fart.

            The P.M. Smiles. Picks up a small bird. Rips its leg off.
            Viciously. Commences to eat it. Eyes threatening.

                                P.M.
                      If it goes wrong you'll be responsible.
                          (smiles)
                      You realise that!

                                D.M.
                          (loosening his collar)
                      Yes, but, how do we know he wont spread
                      his malicious hypnotic thoughts around
                      from the inside?

            EXT. THE ASYLUM-3 - DAY

            BACK TO:	Leader and Anchor. They have various accoutrements
            attached, designated by their specific tasking. Leader
            scanning the sky. 

            The SOUND of a helicopter. Nearly overhead. 

            The surroundings BLOW about. The helicopter overhead.

            EXT. THE SAS DEPLOY-2 - DAY

            Two MORE SAS MEN, totally black SAS clothing, abseil from the
            helicopter now overhead to join Anchor and Leader on the
            ground. The helicopter speeds off. 

            The SOUND of a second helicopter. Near.

            EXT. THE ASYLUM-4 - DAY

            Some 200 metres distance. On another hill. Across the Asylum
            road. Another helicopter. Hovering. 

            FOUR black shapes. Abseiling down from the hovering
            helicopter. To the other hill. FOUR more SAS MEN. 

            A CROSSFIRE on anything traversing the Asylum road. The
            Asylum road entry gates within view of both vantage points. 

            The other helicopter speeds off. 

            All is QUIET. Country SOUNDS.

                                P.M. (V.O.)
                      Are you sure your source has got it
                      right?

            INT. MINISTERIAL SUITE-3 - DAY

            BACK TO:	The small private dining-room.

                                P.M.
                      Chosen the "right" asylum?

                                D.M.
                          (not sure)
                      Oh, he's one of us. He knows what's
                      "right" and "wrong". He must have.

            He smiles sheepishly. 

                                D.M. (cont'd)
                      He's not a country-bumpkin! Not from
                      Donga-Donga.

            He starts to grin, confidence rising.

                                P.M.
                          (leaning to D.M., Aggressive)
                      That's not what I asked!

            D.M.'s  Grin fades. He farts, a nervous, loud fart.

                                P.M. (CONT'D)
                      Don't give me your "floor-show"! I want
                      the correct information! Not what you
                      expect me to hear!

                                D.M.
                          (intimidated)
                      Yes, 
                          (beat, unsure)
                      It's right. 

            He bites his lip in a vain attempt to hide the lie. 

            The SOUND of a helicopter. Flying away.  In the distance.

            EXT. THE ASYLUM-5. - DAY

            BACK TO: The SAS MEN now concealed. Leader speaks. Over the
            radio-communicator. Commanding.

                                LEADER (V.O.)
                      Comms - check!

                                ANCHOR (V.O.)
                      Anchor!

                                THUMPER (V.O.)
                      Thumper!

                                LONER (V.O.)
                      Loner!

                                SQUIB (V.O.)
                      Squib!

                                NERD (V.O.)
                      Nerd!

                                FRUIT (V.O.)
                      Fruit!

                                BACKUP (V.O.)
                      Backup!

                                LEADER (V.O.)
                      Engage!

            EXT. THE JOURNEY-1.- DAY

            BACK TO:	The Police wagon. Traversing Donga-Donga suburb
            streets. 

            Bill, calls back into the rear of the wagon. Over his
            shoulder. Grinning.

                                BILL
                      Nearly there, Numnut!

            INT. POLICE WAGON INTERIOR-1. - DAY

            Joe, (50), sits on one side. Handcuffed. Bruce sits opposite.
            Joe grins.

                                BRUCE
                          (grinning)
                      You'll soon be alright.

                                JOE
                          (quizzically)
                      What d'you mean?

                                BRUCE
                          (shrugging)
                      No worries. Looked after. 

                                JOE
                          (quizzically)
                      Worries? 
                          (concerned beat)
                      You've got worries?

                                BRUCE
                          (taken aback)
                      Me? 
                          (beat)
                      I meant you. 
                          (beat, beat)
                      Well, now that you say it, I suppose I do
                      have some. Haven't we all? 
                          (grimaces) )
                      No matter what I earn some bugger thinks
                      up some way to take a bit more off me!

            Joe smiles. Fiddles with his wrist. Anticipation.

                                BRUCE (cont'd)
                          (looking around)
                      I almost accept bribes now.
                          (looks guilty)
                      I don't want to, but,
                          (looks around again)
                      what can I do?

                                JOE
                          (concerned)
                      That's not good. We've got to stick
                      together, like "they" do. 

            He Adjusts the handcuffs so he can hold out his wrist --
            hypnotic - voice. 

                                JOE (cont'd)
                      Look at my watch, see it pulsing, 

            He lifts his shirt - sleeve, exposing a cheap LCD watch.

            INT.  MINISTERIAL SUITE-4. - DAY

            The small private dining-room.

                                P.M.
                          (slyly eyeing D.M.)
                      Okay. 

            He pours a large glass of wine, momentarily exposing a cheap
            LCD watch on his wrist, exactly like Joe's. 

                                P.M. (cont'd)
                      Let's get onto more important things...

            D.M. Sighs with relief. Relaxes.

                                P.M. (cont'd)
                      There's the problem of how we can get the
                      Americans behind our proposal for me to
                      be President.
                          (smiles, drinks the wine)

            D.M. Getting hot under the collar again.

            INT.  POLICE WAGON INTERIOR-2. - DAY

            BACK TO:	Bruce shaking himself. Looking dazed.

                                BRUCE
                          (apologetically)
                      Sorry, Joe, must've dropped off.

            Joe smiles. Pulls his shirt-sleeve down, covering the LCD
            watch.

                                BRUCE (cont'd)
                      Now, what were we talking about?

                                JOE
                          (smiling)
                      How it all got started.

                                BRUCE
                          (grinning)
                      Well, how did you become "Public Enemy
                      Number One"?  Who'd you kill?

            The SAS is coming MUSIC. A few bars over next scene.

            EXT.  THE ASYLUM-6. - DAY

            BACK TO:	The SAS MEN, covertly placed over the two small
            hills overlooking the Asylum  road. Preparing weaponry for
            action. Over a radio-communicator

                                LEADER (V.O.)
                      Confirm ready!

            One SAS man, SQUIB is ready. Weapon poised. Threateningly.

                                SQUIB (V.O.)
                      Squib, ready.

            INT.  POLICE WAGON INTERIOR-3. - DAY

            BACK TO:	Joe. Wistfully remembering.

                                JOE
                          (wistfully)
                      I emigrated to Australia nearly seventeen
                      years ago. 

            He remembers;

            INT.  THE LANDING. - NIGHT.

            The view of night - lit Donga-Donga from the window of a
            Fokker Friendship as it prepares to land, it's wheels noisily
            lowering past the view.

                                JOE (V.O.)
                      Donga-Donga looked beautiful. Mysterious.
                      My, our future. A new life. Me, the Wife,
                      two kids,
                          (beat)
                      They came on the Australis.

                                BRUCE (V.O.)
                      Why's that?  We paid your fare, didn't
                      we?

                                JOE (V.O.)
                      Yes, but we thought it would save money.
                      The air-freight cost, that is.
                          (smiles)
                      Bit stupid but then, didn't know how to
                      play the Game.

            Over a radio-communicator

                                NERD (V.O.)
                      Nerd, ready.

            INT. ALBURY AIRPORT. - NIGHT.

            Donga-Donga  airport. 

            The baggage trolley.  PEOPLE waiting for it. 

            Bespectacled Joe (35). Black, beatle - cut, bushy hair, --
            Dick Smith's "double". Amongst them.  Carrying a brown
            briefcase with a large company logo on it. "BUB". He looks
            around for "someone". 

            TERRY CURTIS, a fair - haired 30 year old, stands outside on
            the pavement. Shorts, long - socks and shirt. Sees the logo.
            Waves. Walks up to Joe. Holds out his hand. Smiles.

                                TERRY CURTIS
                      Joe Nobody?

            Joe nods. Smiles. Shakes the hand.

                                TERRY CURTIS (cont'd)
                      Couldn't really miss you, mate,
                          (indicates the logo)
                      Could I? Good trip?

                                JOE
                          (nodding sheepishly)
                      No, s'pose it was a good idea. The logo,
                      I mean. 

            He looks Terry up and down. 

                                JOE (cont'd)
                      You must be Terry Curtis. Lindsay Day
                      said you'd meet me.

            Terry smiles, nods. The baggage trolley arrives. 

            PEOPLE cram around it. Looking.

                                TERRY CURTIS
                      Let's get your bags, come on.

            They join the cramming throng of People.

            INT.  POLICE WAGON INTERIOR-4. - DAY

            BACK TO:	Joe returning to the present. Bruce intently
            listening.

                                JOE
                      The job I came for was very challenging.

                                BRUCE
                      And well-paid, I bet.

            Over a radio-communicator;

                                ANCHOR (V.O.)
                      Anchor ready!

                                JOE
                          (smiling)
                      S'pose so. We had a Commission house and
                      enough to buy a new car. Never had that
                      in Pommieland.

            Joe looks wistful. Remembers.  Bruce grins.

            EXT.  COMMISSION HOUSE. - DAY

            View of outside of neat commission house. 1977 vintage. A
            1977 vintage wagon in driveway. 

            MUSIC. From inside. Popular 1977 hit tune. 

            WIFE (28),long brown hair, well-endowed, attractive. Tends
            flower baskets hanging on porch. In front of house door.
            Wears gardening clothes. Gardening gloves. 

            CHILDREN, BOY, (8), plays with GIRL, (3), on the veranda. 

            Joe (35), appears through the front door onto the porch.
            Speaks to Wife.

                                JOE
                      See you in about "one" hour.

                                WIFE
                          (cynically)
                      And the rest!

                                JOE
                          (lame excuse)
                      Lindsay wants the thing ready for the
                      Dubai demo on Monday. I have to go in, no
                      one else can. There's an eight-hundred
                      thousand dollar Letter of Credit riding
                      on it. 

            He shrugs, walks to the wagon, gets in, starts it and
            reverses off the drive. 

            Wife continues to look daggers at the wagon as it drives off
            without departing from her attention to the flower-baskets.

            INT.  POLICE WAGON INTERIOR-5. - DAY

            BACK TO:	Joe returning to the present. Continuing.

                                JOE
                      You see VAT, or as you know it, GST,
                      bolluxed up the Pommie economy something
                      fierce.

                                BRUCE
                          (grimacing)
                      I never really understood GST.

                                JOE
                      No-one does. Not even those wanting to
                      use it. 
                          (smiles)
                      You know, my son said what it means,
                      "Gimme Summore Tax". 
                          (laughs)
                      And he was only eight!  No, if you've
                      plenty of money then GST is okay. 

            Bruce not sure. Over a radio-communicator

                                FRUIT (V.O.)
                      Fruit, ready!

                                BACKUP (V.O.)
                      Backup, ready!

            EXT.  THE JOURNEY-2.- DAY

            The police wagon traversing a country road.

            EXT.  THE ASYLUM-7. - DAY

            BACK TO:	The SAS Men. Some with weapons at "ready". Over a
            radio-communicator

                                LEADER (V.O.)
                          (anxious)
                      Loner?  Thumper?

                                THUMPER (V.O.)
                      Thumper!  Ready!

                                LONER (V.O.)
                      Loner! Ready!

                                JOE (V.O.)
                      I don't know why I got the job, then, but
                      found out much later that Lindsay thought
                      me creative and cooperative.
                      I was prepared to "give" to the boss, to
                      BUB, to Australia. I never realised it
                      was really all "suck" until the big boys
                      moved in.

            INT.  POLICE WAGON INTERIOR-6. - DAY

            BACK TO:	Bruce intently listening to Joe.

                                JOE
                      You see my electronic designs made money
                      for BUB. Lindsay called me "Mister-Fix
                      It". 
                          (nostalgic pause)
                      We exported all over the world. Not to
                      Australia, they didn't seem to want our
                      stuff,
                          (beat)
                      Well, not then, but much later. 
                          (beat)
                      It takes time for tiny political minds to
                      understand. They prefer to buy things
                      abroad. "Teaming", they call it.
                          (beat, grimaces) 
                      BUB. was truly what Australia wants now!
                      A commercial, really proactive company,
                      ninety - nine point nine - nine percent
                      exporting. With a turnover of over twenty
                      million dollars each year. From eighty
                      people. 
                          (beat, reflects) 
                      We owned our own intellectual property,
                          (beat, grimaces)
                      Didn't license it from nugatory teaming
                      arrangements, let our money disappear up
                      Uncle Sam's or some other foreign anal
                      cavity,

            Bruce puzzled. Not understanding.

                                JOE (cont'd)
                          (noticing, smiling, explaining)
                      That is, we had over one - hundred World
                      Patents on our designs, and, an anal
                      cavity is an arsehole, 
                          (grins)
                      and, "nugatory teaming" is what a pimp
                      does if your the team. Okay?

            Bruce understands. Grins.

                                JOE (cont'd)
                      There were no Unions, no Enterprise
                      Bargaining, just a workforce of happy,
                      multi - skilled people doing their best.
                      For the "Boss", and themselves and
                      producing quality equipment. Equipment
                      "Fit - for - purpose".
                      Wanted all over the world. None of this
                      three - nine - oh - one shit!

                                BRUCE
                          (cynically)
                      Yeah, Yeah, so how did it all go wrong?

            Joe smiles, lingers, remembering.

            EXT.  THE ASYLUM-8. - DAY

            BACK TO :	The SAS Men. Weapons at "ready". Leader scans the
            Asylum road with binoculars. Over a radio-communicator

                                LEADER (V.O.)
                      Negative contact. Steady!

            INT.  THE LABORATORY-1. - DAY

            An electronic laboratory. Eight benches perpendicular to the
            wall. Complex electronic equipment adorn the benches. 

            EIGHT ENGINEERS occupy them. One standing at each bench.
            Working on complex electronic equipment. 

            Joe (35) works at one bench. Diligently soldering something
            into a printed-circuit-board. 

            LINDSAY (50) enters. Happy. Eight Engineers go into
            subservient mode. Lindsay walks up to Joe.

                                LINDSAY
                          (happily eager)
                      Got that Dubai thing ready yet? You're
                      off with it next Monday. Demonstration
                      for Sheik Khalid Academy.

            Joe looks up. Nervous. Puts down his soldering iron.

                                JOE
                          (nervously confident)
                      Only a little bit left to do. It works
                      fine, but I'll have to put it in the big
                      paint oven to make really sure.

                                LINDSAY
                          (nodding)
                      Okay, but don't bugger up the oven with
                      grease from the chain-drive. We've gotta
                      get two systems out next week. There's a
                      two-million- dollar LC coming in if we
                      do. 
                          (concerned beat)
                      Make sure Quality Assurance is with you
                      when you test it.

                                JOE
                          (smiling, then nervously)
                      Don't I always?

                                LINDSAY
                          (grinning, relaxing)
                      Bloody Pommie knowitall! 

            He exits. 

            Eight Engineers look to one another. Relax. Nervousness
            going. Grin. Go back to work. Noticeably eager. Full of job
            satisfaction.

            EXT.  THE NEWS-STAND-2. - DAY

            The news stand outside the Asylum gates. 

            A few PEOPLE wait for transport in the bus-shelter. 

            A typical NEWSMAN kneeling. Finishing the second billboard.  

            The  billboards reading.

            The "AUSTRALIAN" BILLBOARD
            "EMBARGO ON EXPORTS TO IRAN SUCCESSFUL."

            The "SUN" BILLBOARD
            "WHO RUNS US? THE GOVERNMENT OR UNCLE SAM?"

            INT.  THE LABORATORY-2. - DAY

            The electronic laboratory. 

            EIGHT ENGINEERS (+ 10 years older-looking) occupy them. One
            at each bench. Working. Lethargically. 

            Joe (45) works at one bench. Nervously clearing up. 

            LINDSAY (60) enters. Aggressive. 

            Eight  Engineers go into subservient mode. 

            Lindsay walks up to Joe.  "Boss" - like.

                                LINDSAY
                          (astounded)
                      "They've" put a bloody Receiver in!

            Joe looks up. He knows.

                                JOE
                          (concerned)
                      What will they do?

                                LINDSAY
                          (aggressive)
                      I don't know. Someone dobbed me in.
                      Someone's been talking. "They" think I
                      was going to do a bunk with the gadget.
                          (beat)
                      "They'll" probably shut the place down!

                                JOE
                          (tearfully spontaneously)
                      They can't do that, 
                          (unsure beat)
                      Can they?

                                LINDSAY
                          (malevolently)
                      Bastards! First Iran and now this,
                      Bastards! 

            He exits. 

            Eight Engineers look to one another. For comfort. None
            forthcoming. 

            Joe continues working. 

            A tear runs down his cheek. Drops to the floor.

                                BRUCE (V.O.)
                      But a lot of companies go into
                      Receivership, how did that make you into
                      what you are?
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