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                        Underground eXperts United

                                Presents...

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        [  Screenplay: In The Colosseum  ]          [  By The GNN  ]


   ____________________________________________________________________
   ____________________________________________________________________


                             IN THE COLOSSEUM

    Screenplay adapted from the short story "Interrogation" by The GNN.
(c) Underground eXperts United and Underground Motion Entertainment, 1996.

            The Underground Motion Entertainment crew are
  Phearless, H.C Andersson, Martinique, Joseph, Knyttet and The GNN.

      Screen shots are available at http://www.lysator.liu.se/~chief
                            and in uXu file 360



INT. CORRIDORS

(Opening credits while we see two men, HAROLD and SMITH, walk through
basement corridors. HAROLD is handcuffed and wears a military uniform.
SMITH, dressed in a police uniform, walks slightly behind HAROLD, keeping
a gun pointed at him. Camera switch between different angles.)

CUT TO:

INT. CRAMPED INTERROGATION ROOM

(HAROLD and SMITH enter a cramped interrogation room with two chairs, a
little table, no windows. They sit down on the chairs. SMITH is nervous
and irritated. HAROLD is calm, signs of happiness and madness can be seen
in his face. Throughout the conversation, the camera switches between
POV's, pans and walks.)

                                  SMITH
                       (brings up a paper and a pen)
                   Your name is Harold Warnock? Correct?

                                  HAROLD
                               (ironically)
                                Of course!

                                  SMITH
                                (quickly)
                                Watch it!

                                  HAROLD
                    ...and you're Mister Smith, yeah?

                                  SMITH
                                You just...

                                  HAROLD
                              Love that name.

                                  SMITH
   ...shut your face 'till I tell you to speak? Do I make myself clear?

                                  HAROLD
                               (to no one)
                       Don't you just love this guy?

                               (to SMITH)
Who cares anyway? You're the police. I'm the criminally insane. Interrogate
me. It's your duty, blue boy.

(For a moment, they stare at each other, in silence.)

                                  SMITH
                                 Harold?

                                 HAROLD
                    Yes, police officer king-pin, wassup?

                                  SMITH
                          You're evil, Harold.

(HAROLD theatrically shows the palms of his hands to SMITH.)

                                 HAROLD
     But look how _clean_ they are. So _clean._ _Clean._ As the world.

                                 SMITH
                 There is no world, Harold. _No world._

                                 HAROLD
                           (shaking his head)
                             It's _clean._

                                 SMITH
                                (calmly)
                           _Fuck_ you, Harold.

                                 HAROLD
                               (laughing)
  Well, I figure you're the only one around who might be able to do that.

                                 SMITH
                              (suddenly)
 Now let me get this straight. Am I really coming through to you? Do you
 really hear me? Or am I just producing words towards some kind of human
 wall? Could I rather spend my time doing something else..?

                                 HAROLD
                   Oh, I wonder what that would be...

                                 SMITH
                          ...What? Could I?

                                 HAROLD
Sure. Sure as hell. You could need a little vacation. What about Paris?
Moscow? London? Tokyo? Just bring a broom. Guess you need to tidy them up.

                                (smiling)
                                A little.

                                  SMITH
 For Christ sake, face the facts! You're dead! Talkin' loud won't dig any
 escape tunnels for you! Your crime.. is... is...

(He never finish the sentence.)

                                 HAROLD
                          Aww, who cares _now?_

                                 SMITH
                             _You_ better.

                                 HAROLD
I'm already dead, ain't I? Didn't you just say so? They... _you_... will
give me the capital punishment, won't you? What else is there? There are
no jails any more, no prisons, nothing. Just your gun. _Your power._

                                (pause)

                                 SMITH
                           Why did you do it?

                                 HAROLD
                           Come on, why _not?_

                                 SMITH
For starters, it's the worst possible crime one could ever commit. You've
violated other peoples rights, your code of ethics as a soldier and...
and... common-fucking-sense!

                                 HAROLD
 Let me put it this way: I wanted to clean up the place. It was dirty.
 Really, really dirty, as you know. Filthy! Dirty! Evil! Bad! Hellish!

                                 SMITH
                                (sadly)
                           But it was around!

                                  HAROLD
Oh, even worse. Goddamn, like sticking your hand down the john and love
the shit because "it's around." You must be fucking kidding, did you learn
rhetoric in some kindergarten?

                                  SMITH
                                 (sadly)
                           It's so... it's so...

                               (concluding)
          You don't exist, do you? You're not for real, are you?

                                  HAROLD
                    I am. The world is not. Thank God.

                                  SMITH
                           Blasphemy. Suits you.

                                  HAROLD
                I'm not Jesus. But close, don't you say?

(SMITH does not reply.)

                                 SMITH
                            How did you do it?

                                HAROLD
                              You know how.

(SMITH bangs his fist into the table.)

                                SMITH
                              (irritated)
                      Answer the goddamn question!

                                HAROLD
                            I turned a key.

                                SMITH
                           You turned a key...

                                HAROLD
                        And the world was no more.

                                  SMITH
                                Wonderful.

                                  HAROLD
But I had to do some other things first. Hey, you know, it's not enough
to just turn one key. No no, if you do that they will get you at once.
Two keys must be turned. _My_ key. _His_ key.

                                  SMITH
                                 His...?

                                  HAROLD
The second man. We're always two. Two men, down in the basement. Sitting
there, all day long. Waiting. Waiting, for the miracle to come. Waiting,
for the big men to get to the point. When they do, we turn out keys. But
they never did. No decisions. Well, at least no _big_ decisions. Just the
usual mumbo-jumbo. No results.

                                  SMITH
                              Unbelievable...

                                 HAROLD
                                 Indeed.

                                  SMITH
                               (depressed)
                                 Oh God...

                                 HAROLD
Well, just had to get the other fella to turn the key. Then the problems
would be solved. They would be cleaned up. Big time.

                                  SMITH
                                   And?

                                  HAROLD
             We sat there for twenty years. Do you understand?

                                  SMITH
                       No. I don't. I really don't.

                                  HAROLD
Oh no? Well, once day I began to consider the modus operandi. Time to try
out some psycho tricks! Time to do something fun. So, I began to talk to
the guy beside me.

                                  SMITH
 You're telling me you didn't say a word to him before that? Twenty years?

                                 HAROLD
I didn't say that. I said: I began to talk to him. For real. I manipulated
him. Get it?

                                  SMITH
                                  Go on.

                                 HAROLD
 I will "go on" whenever I feel for it. I can do whatever I want. Anyway,
 it took me three years. Three long years. But it was worth it. Worth
 waiting for, like a dolly bird back home or a cold beer in the sun. It
 took me three years. Then...

                                  SMITH
                                 Then...

                                  HAROLD
                       ...then he turned the key.

(SMITH draws his gun from his holster, cocks it, and puts it on the table
in front of him.)

                                  SMITH
                               (crescendo)
 Then what? Then what? What happened then, Harold? When he turned the key,
 what did you do? Did you turn your key? Did you? What happened when you
 turned your key? What happened?

                                  HAROLD
                           (slowly, devilish)
 I turned my key too... I had to do it, Mister Smith... you know that...

                                  SMITH
          What happened then, Harold? What the fuck happened?

(HAROLD waves his arms, wildly.)

                                 HAROLD
                              (crescendo)
 It said bang! Bang! Bang! Bang! Bang! Bang! It said bang! Bang, Smith!
 Bang! Bang! Bang!

                                  SMITH
                                (formally)
 When you turned your key, you launched twenty strategical nuclear warheads
 against ten different countries. They responded to the attack at once.
 Before you were able to say Jacka Cracka Eats Shit, the world was gone!
 You hear me? In less than ten minutes, the world was gone!

                                 HAROLD
                           (slowly, silently)
                     I know, mister Smith, I know...

                                 SMITH
You've destroyed everything. You're the angel-of-fucking-death, alive and
kicking, while the world is on fire. How does that feel, Harold? How does
that _feel?_

                                 HAROLD
                               (devilish)
Can you feel the cancer inside you, mister Smith? Can you feel it? It feels
good, don't you say? It's pure. It's clean. It eats away all the dirt.

(SMITH suddenly rises from the chair, leans over the table, and puts the
barrel of the gun under the chin of HAROLD.)

                                  HAROLD
                               (ironically)
What are you going to do, mister Smith? Are you going to kill me? Oh, that
really scares me. I'm so afraid.

(Pause. They remain in their positions. When HAROLD once again begins to
talk, the camera slowly zooms into his face. When the last word is
uttered, the whole picture only contains his eyes.)

                                  HAROLD
                                (crescendo)
 Did you search for me, mister Smith? What did you think when you saw the
 gigantic flowers of smoke arise from the ground? "I'm going to get the
 son-of-a-bitch who is responsible for this"? Did you, cop? Did you, pig?
 Well, did you? Here I am! And I've confessed my crimes! The last criminal
 on planet earth, with the last cop! Punish me! Do what the law tells you
 to do! Do it now! Now! Now! Do it! Do it now! _Now!_

(fade to black)

(closing credits)


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uXu #344              Underground eXperts United 1996              uXu #344
                    Call KASTLEROCK -> +1-412-527-3749
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