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   "The Truman Show", early, by Andrew M. Niccol



   









                         THE TRUMAN SHOW




                          A Screen Play

                               By

                         Andrew M. Niccol








     FADE IN

     A white title appears on a black screen.

                      "One doesn't discover new lands
                      without consenting to lose sight
                      of the shore for a very long time."

                                     Andre Gide

     The title fades off, replaced by a second title.

                      "We're all in this alone."

                                     Lily Tomlin


     INT.  A WOMB.  DAY.

     A fiber optic camera observes a five-month-old MALE FETUS as he
     gently floats, weightless, suspended in the amniotic fluid of
     his mother's womb.  We focus on the unborn's hand, already a
     tiny, exquisite work of art, moving towards his newly formed
     lips.  He sucks his thumb.


     INT.  HOSPITAL - DELIVERY ROOM.  DAY.

     A seconds old BABY BOY - umbilical cord still attached,
     smeared with blood and protective skin grease - is held up
     by an anonymous pair of latex gloves to the camera.  Shocked by
     the unaccustomed light and cool of the delivery room, the
     newborn fights for his first, arduous breath.  Following almost
     immediately, a cry.

     From another angle we see the crying infant on a television
     screen, the individual lines of the screen clearly visible.

     MATCH DISSOLVE TO


     INT.  CAR - UTOPIA, QUEENS.  MORNING.

     The face of the baby thirty-four years later, still crying.
     TRUMAN BURBANK, thinning hair, a body going soft around the
     edges, appearing older than his thirty-four years sits at the
     wheel of his eight-year-old Oldsmobile Cutlass Supreme.  He
     cries without shame, making no attempt to wipe away the tears.

     Pausing at an intersection in a quiet, working-class suburban
     street, a spherical glass object suddenly falls from the sky and
     lands with a deafening crash on the roadway, several yards in
     front of his idling car.

     Truman exits the Oldsmobile to investigate.  Amidst a sea of
     shattered glass are the remains of a light mechanism.

     He looks around him but the street is deserted.  He checks that
     all the surrounding streetlights are accounted for, even though
     the fallen fixture is far larger.  He looks up into the sky but
     there is no plane in sight.  With some effort, Truman picks up
     what's left of the crumpled light, loads it into the trunk of
     his car and drives away.


     INT.  CAR - TRAIN STATION PARKING LOT.  MORNING.

     TRUMAN sits behind the wheel of his car, unscrews the cap of
     a miniature bottle of Jack Daniels and empties the contents into
     his Styrofoam cup of coffee.  Stirring it in with his finger, he
     burns himself.

                           TRUMAN
              Shit!

     As Truman drinks, he becomes aware of the delighted squeals of
     children coming from the gymnasium of Utopia Elementary School,
     adjacent to the parking lot.  The sound of the children triggers
     a memory in his head.


     EXT.  LONG, WIDE BEACH.  DAY, TWENTY-SEVEN YEARS EARLIER.

     Unlike a conventional flashback, the scene in his memory appears
     to be playing on a television screen.

     A sandy-haired, SEVEN-YEAR-OLD TRUMAN, runs towards a bluff on
     the beach.

     The boy's father, KIRK, late-thirties, beer bottle in hand,
     flirts with two TEENAGE GIRLS at the shoreline.  Suddenly, the
     father remembers his son.  He looks anxiously around.  The sight
     of the boy at the far end of the beach causes him to drop his
     bottle in the sand and run to him.

     The boy is near the top of the cliff before his agitated father
     comes within earshot.

                           FATHER
                      (out of breath, clutching his side)
              Truman!  Truman!  Stop!

     Truman turns from his perch and waves happily down to his
     father.  But the smile quickly vanishes when he registers the
     anger and distress on his father's face.

                           FATHER
              Come down now!

     His father's unnatural anxiety makes the next bay even more
     tantalizing.  The boy considers defying his father.  He puts
     his hand on the rock above him to stretch up and sneak a peek at
     the other side.  One good stretch would do it.

                           FATHER
                      (reading Truman's mind, enraged)
              No!

                           TRUMAN
                      (sensing his father is keeping
                      something from him)
              Why?  What's there?

                           FATHER
                      (unconvincing)
              Nothing's there.  It's the same as this.
                      (trace of desperation)
              Come down, please!

     Truman is suddenly aware that the hundreds of other BEACHGOERS
     have stopped their activities to stare at him.  Reluctantly
     he starts to retrace his steps down the rocks.  When he finally
     jumps to the sand, his father grabs him roughly by the arm and
     drags him away down the beach.

                           FATHER
              I told you to stay close.  Don't ever leave
              my sight again.  You gotta know your
              limitations.  You could've been washed
              away by the tide.


     EXT.  LOWER MANHATTAN, FINANCIAL DISTRICT.  MORNING.

     TRUMAN emerges from a subway exit in Lower Manhattan and walks
     briskly down the bustling street.  A snarl of taxis, buses and
     COMMUTER traffic.  A STREET VENDOR thrusts a pretzel under
     Truman's nose, a CAREER WOMAN catches his eye.

     Truman stops at a newspaper stand and plucks an issue of
     Cosmopolitan from the rack, quickly flicking through the glossy
     pages.  Glancing in the direction of the NEWSPAPER VENDOR and
     finding him busy with another customer, Truman deftly tears a
     portion of the open page and pockets the cutting.

     He guiltily replaces the magazine, startled to find the
     Newspaper Vendor standing close behind him.

                           TRUMAN
                      (quickly recovering)
              Gimme a copy of "The Sydney Morning Herald".

                           VENDOR
              We ran out.

                           TRUMAN
                      (hastily departing)
              Thanks anyway.

     As Truman hurries away, the Vendor picks up the copy of Cosmo
     and instantly turns to the torn page.  It is a Lancome
     advertisement with ISABELLA ROSSELLINI's nose missing.
     Truman is still in view but the Vendor makes no effort to
     confront him, almost as if he were expecting it.

     Passing one of the tall, black mirrored buildings that grow
     out of the pavement, Truman glimpses himself in the reflective
     glass.  He doesn't like what he sees and attempts to suck in his
     gut, but quickly concedes defeat.  The image triggers another
     childhood memory.


     INT.  SCHOOLROOM.  DAY, TWENTY-SEVEN YEARS EARLIER.

     Once again, the flashback appears to be playing on a television
     screen.

     The sandy-haired SEVEN-YEAR-OLD TRUMAN sits in the middle row of
     a Catholic Elementary School classroom surrounded by thirty-or-
     so other well-scrubbed, uniformed YOUNGSTERS.  DOUGLAS, the boy
     next to Truman is on his feet under the scrutiny of a sixty-
     year-old NUN with a face as wrinkled as her habit is starched.

                           DOUGLAS
              I wanna be a chiropractor like my dad.

                           SISTER
                      (impressed)
              Tell the class what a chiropractor does,
              Douglas.

                           DOUGLAS
              He helps people by fixing their backs,
              Sister Olivia.

                           SISTER
              That's right, Douglas.
                      (holding her back, hamming it up)
              Perhaps I'll be your first patient.

     The CLASS titters.  Douglas sits down, pleased with himself,
     throwing a smirk to Truman.

                           SISTER
              What about you, Truman?

     Truman rises to his feet.

                           TRUMAN
              I want to be an explorer
                      (with reverence)
              ...like Magellan.

     The Sister's face falls.

                           SISTER
              No one's going to pay you to do that,
              Truman.
                      (with scarcely disguised glee)
              Besides, you're too late.  There's
              nothing left to explore.

     The class roars with laughter and Truman takes his seat.


     EXT.  LOWER MANHATTAN, FINANCIAL DISTRICT.  MORNING.

     From TRUMAN'S POV we see that he is staring up at relief
     letters that proclaim, "American Life & Accident Insurance,
     Inc." above an office building's entrance.

     A POLICE OFFICER walking his beat, wanders in Truman's
     direction.  From another angle, we observe Truman from the
     Police Officer's POV - shaky, handheld camera - on a television
     screen.  Truman enters the building.


     INT.  INSURANCE COMPANY - TWELFTH FLOOR.  DAY.

     In a cramped, cluttered, windowless cubicle, TRUMAN talks on
     the telephone.

                           TRUMAN
                      (into receiver)
              ...okay, okay, let's call it what it is...
              I'm not gonna lie to you...life insurance
              is death insurance...you just gotta ask
              yourself two questions...one, in the event
              of your death, will anyone experience
              financial loss?...and two, do you care?

     A CLERK drops a large reference book on Truman's desk.  He
     checks the spine - "MORTALITY STATISTICS, 1986 to Present".

                           TRUMAN
                      (into receiver)
              Hold on will ya?
                      (to Clerk, putting receiver
                      to chest, referring to the book)
              This's no good.  Lumps all drownings
              together.  I need drownings broken down
              by category.

     The Clerk shrugs, returns the book to his trolley and continues
     his rounds.

                           TRUMAN
                      (returning to his call)
              ...just think about what I've been
              saying and lemme...hello?...

     The person on the other end has hung up.  With an apathetic
     shrug, Truman replaces the receiver.  He looks over his shoulder
     and places another call.

                           TRUMAN
                      (lowering his voice)
              Can you connect me with directory
              inquiries in Sydney, Australia?
                      (a long delay makes Truman
                      even more uncomfortable)
              ...er, yes.  Do you have a listing
              for a Lauren Powers...
                      (pause)
              ...nothing listed?...what about a Sylvia
              Powers...nothing?  Thanks...

     Truman replaces the receiver, disappointed.


     INT.  LOCAL ITALIAN DELI.  LUNCHTIME.

     TRUMAN stands in line with a crush of other WHITE COLLAR
     WORKERS.  As he reaches the counter, the store owner, TYRONE,
     has anticipated his order and ahs already begun preparing a
     meatball and mozzarella sandwich on Italian roll.  Truman gazes
     at the sandwich skillfully under construction, pained by his own
     predictability.

                           TYRONE
                      (nauseatngly cheerful)
              How's it goin', Truman?

                           TRUMAN
                      (deadpan)
              Not bad.  I just won the State Lottery.

                           TYRONE
                      (not listening to Truman's
                      reply, as Truman anticipated)
              Good.  Good.

                           TRUMAN
              Tyrone, what if I said I didn't want meatball today?

                           TYRONE
                      (not missing a beat)
              I'd ask for identification.

     Truman forces a half-smile.

     We focus on another MALE OFFICE WORKER in line at the cash
     register, watching Truman out of the corner of his eye.  About
     to depart with his sandwich, the man receives a guarded rebuke
     from the FEMALE CASHIER.

                           FEMALE CASHIER
                      (a whisper to prevent Truman overhearing)
              He's right there.  You're supposed to pay
              when he's here.

                           MALE CUSTOMER
                      (nonchalant shrug as he departs)
              He never notices.

     We re-focus our attention on Truman who is taking the wrapped
     sandwich from Tyrone.

                           TYRONE
              Hold on, Truman.  I got somethin' to show ya.

     Tyrone holds up a front page of the New York Post that
     features a photograph of a scaled-down replica of Columbus'
     Santa Maria, moored in front of the Manhattan skyline.  Truman's
     eyes widen at the photograph.

                           TYRONE
                      (referring to the photo)
              The flagship of Christoforo...our Genoese
              navigator, huh?  I know you love this like me.

                           TRUMAN
                      (averting his eyes with difficulty)
              Not me.  You got the wrong man.

     Tyrone tries not to let his disappointment show as Truman pays
     the Cashier and exits.

                           TYRONE
              See ya tomorrow, Truman.


     EXT.  CITY PARK.  DAY.

     TRUMAN eats lunch alone on a concrete bench in a cement park.
     From his briefcase he pulls out an old hardcovered book, "To The
     Ends Of The Earth - The Age Of Exploration".

     A TRANSIENT in a wheelchair approaches, looking for a handout.
     Truman gives the homeless man half of his sandwich, reconsiders
     and gives him it all, his appetite gone.  As the transient
     wheels himself away, Truman loses himself in his book.


     INT.  A DIMLY-LIT ROOM SOMEWHERE.  DAY.

     Close up on an old man's face.  CHRISTOF.  Hair pure white,
     late-sixties, a vitality in his eyes that belies his years.

     He stands beside a floor-to-ceiling window in a dimly-lit room.
     Outside the window, a single palm tree swaying against a deep
     blue Californian sky.  A news anchor-style earpiece disappears
     down the neck of the unconventionally-cut suit he wears.

     Suspended from the ceiling above his head is a television
     monitor upon which a surveillance picture of Truman, engrossed
     in his book, silently plays.

     CHLOE, twenty-something, androgenous-looking, similarly-suited,
     joins Christof at the window.

                           CHRISTOF
                      (never taking his eyes
                      from the monitor)
              You ever pass a car wreck on the side of the
              road?  They're pulling out a body.  You know
              you shouldn't look, but you do.


     INT.  A CONFERENCE ROOM SOMEWHERE.  DAY.

     A group of a dozen MEN and WOMEN of varying ages sit around
     a circular conference table in a sterile, windowless meeting
     room.  All stare at a single telephone placed in the center of
     the table, anticipating a call.  On cue, the phone rings and one
     of the men, after waiting for the second ring, picks up.

                           MAN
              Hello?...I'm sorry, I got more than enough
              insurance.

     He hangs up.  After a moment the phone rings again.


     INT.  INSURANCE COMPANY.  DAY.

     TRUMAN sits at his desk, making a cold call.

                           TRUMAN
                      (into receiver)
              ...this isn't about insurance, this is
              about the great variable - when will
              death occur?  Could be a week, a month,
              a year.  Could happen today...A sunbather,
              minding his own business, gets stabbed in
              the heart by the tip of a runaway beach
              umbrella...No way you can guard against
              that kinda thing, no way at all...

     The prospect on the other end, unimpressed with his pitch, hangs
     up.  Truman's supervisor, LAWRENCE, younger than Truman by
     several years, sharper suit, sharper haircut, appears around the
     corner of the cubicle.

                           LAWRENCE
                      (handing Truman some documentation)
              Hey, Burbank, I got a bridge-buyer in
              Stapleton I need you to cloes by four.

     Truman turns pale.

                           TRUMAN
              Stapleton on Staten Island?

                           LAWRENCE
                      (sarcastic)
              You know another one?

                           TRUMAN
              I can't do it.

                           LAWRENCE
                      (insistent)
              A half hour across the bay.  Sea air.  Do
              you good.

                           TRUMAN
              No, I...
                      (searching for a plausible excuse)
              ...I got an appointment uptown.

                           LAWRENCE
              This is a sure thing.
                      (conspiratorial)
              They're upping our quota.  You need this.

     Lawrence exits the cubicle.  Truman's head drops.  He picks up
     the framed picture of his wife from his desk.  MERYL, early
     thirties, a petite woman easy to mistake for frail.  He deposits
     the photo in his briefcase and departs.


     INT.  MUNICIPAL FERRY TERMINAL.  DAY.

     TRUMAN, briefcase in hand, ashen-faced, stands in line for the
     Staten Island ferry.

     As the TOURISTS and COMMUTERS impatiently brush past him onto
     the boat, Truman remains frozen to the spot, mesmerized by the
     scummy water rising and falling beneath the dock, triggering
     a flashback in his head.


     EXT.  LONG ISLAND SOUND.  DUSK, TWENTY-SEVEN YEARS EARLIER.

     The flashback once again appearing an a television screen, the
     SEVEN-YEAR-OLD TRUMAN sits alongside his father, KIRK, in a
     small sailing dinghy.

                           TRUMAN
                      (shouting above the wind)
              Let's go further, daddy!  Let's go further!

                           FATHER
                      (shouting back)
              It's getting late, Truman.

                           TRUMAN
                      (entreating his father)
              Please!...

     Kirk shakes his head ruefully and indulges his son by heading
     towards the gathering storm clouds on the horizon.


     INT.  MUNICIPAL FERRY TERMINAL.  DAY.

     TRUMAN turns and begins to fight his way back against the tide
     of PASSENGERS boarding the ferry, emerging back on the street
     into the bright sunlight, gasping for air.

     Gathering himself, he makes for the entrance of Whitehall Street
     subway station.  Two COMMUTERS surrepticiously observe Truman as
     he departs.

                           COMMUTER 1
                      (commenting out of Truman's earshot)
              I can't believe he's taking the long way.

                           COMMUTER 2
              He'll never make it.


     INT.  SUBWAY TRAIN.  DAY.

     TRUMAN stands in a packed subway car, anxiously glancing at his
     watch, wiping his perspiring hairline with a hankerchief.


     INT. TAXI.  DAY.

     A taxi crosses the Verrazano-Narrows Bridge towards Staten
     Island.  TRUMAN keeps his eyes shut tight all the way across.
     refusing to look down at the entrance to New York harbor.


     EXT.  BAY STREET, STATEN ISLAND.  DAY.

     TRUMAN finally reaches his destination at a well-to-do
     condominium on Bay Street.  As he approaches the lobby, he
     realizes he has perspiration showing through the armpits of his
     suit jacket.


     INT.  CONDOMINIUM.  DAY.

     A middle-aged CONCIERGE behind a reception desk, is having his
     hair brushed by a YOUNGER MAN in his mid-thirties.  Anticipating
     Truman's arrival, the hairdresser fusses one more time and
     swiftly departs through a rear door.  TRUMAN enters the lobby
     and approaches the CONCIERGE, trying to keep his arms tightly at
     his sides to hide the perspiration.

                           TRUMAN
              I'm here to see a Mr Hamilton.

                           CONCIERGE
              You from the insurance company?  You missed him.

                           TRUMAN
              When will he be back?

                           CONCIERGE
              Vacation.  Two months.  He waited as long as
              he could.  You was supposed to be here by four.

     A clock on the wall reads 4.l2pm.


     INT.  SUBWAY.  AFTERNOON.

     TRUMAN sits by himself in the rattling subway car, defeated.
     The only other occupants in the train, a TALL WOMAN, mid-
     thirties, reading a pulp novel and two MALE YOUTHS, late-teens,
     sitting opposite the woman, slouching, ogling her.

                           YOUTH 1
                      (to woman)
              You wanna read to me?

     His companion smirks.

                           YOUTH 1
                      (more insistent)
              You wannna read to me?

     The woman looks up, unaware of the boys' presence until now.
     She quickly avoids eye contact and returns to the book.  The
     other boy reaches over and snatches the novel from her grasp.

                           YOUTH 2
                      (menacing)
              My friend asked you a question.

     The woman picks up her bag from the floor in a reflex and
     holds it to her.  She looks around the train for assistance,
     briefly catching Truman's eye.  The youths also look in
     Truman's direction, staring him down, daring him to interfere.
     Truman quickly averts his gaze.

                           WOMAN
                      (reaching for the book)
              Please...

     The boy returns the book to the woman, but before doing so rips
     out the last page from the novel and stuffs it in his shirt
     pocket.

                           YOUTH 2
              Now you're gonna have to ask me how it ends.

     The train pulls into a deserted station.  Feeling vulnerable,
     the woman jumps up from her seat and exits.  The youths, sensing
     a chase, also exit.  Scanning the empty platform, the woman
     realizes she has made a serious error.  Truman watches through
     the train's open door as the boys corner the frightened woman
     but still he remains in his seat.

                           YOUTH 1
              We're gonna tell you how it ends, baby.

     One of the youths produces a knife from his pocket and waves it
     in the woman's face.

                           YOUTH 2
              Don't you wanna know how it ends?

     The boys pin the woman to the station wall with the weight of
     their bodies.  The woman looks again in Truman's direction.
     Again she makes eye contact, eyes pleading.

                           WOMAN
                      (screams)
              Help!!  Please, help!!

     The woman's second scream is muffled as the train door closes.
     Truman looks up to the emergency handle beside the door.  There
     is still time to act.  He stands up and half-reaches for the
     handle but moves no further.

     The train abruptly pulls away, leaving Truman time to see one of
     the youths covering the woman's mouth while the other reaches
     under her skirt before the train enters the tunnel.  Truman bows
     his head in shame as the train rattles on.


     INT.  SUBWAY STATION.  DAY.

     The train safely out of sight, the YOUTHS promptly release the
     WOMAN.  She calmly hitches down her skirt, no longer afraid.
     The young men, no longer angry, help fix her hair and retrieve
     her shoulder bag.

                           WOMAN
              Thanks.

     The threesome walk along the platform together, as if lifelong
     friends.

                           WOMAN
                      (pondering the incident)
              He did nothing.

                           YOUTH 1
                      (shrugs, suddenly more couth)
              Physical violence paralyzes him.  Always
              has.


     EXT.  TRUMAN'S HOUSE.  DUSK.

     The backyard of a modest but tidy one-story tract home.  Beyond
     the plank fence at the end of the property flows a busy
     Expressway.

     TRUMAN wheels a lawnmower towards the garage as his wife, MERYL,
     pulls up the drive in her four-year-old Toyota Camry.  She has a
     sensible blue vinyl bag over her shoulder and carries a new
     knife-set in a wooden block.  She kisses Truman affectionately
     on the cheek.

                           MERYL
                      (proudly referring to the knife-set)
              I got it free with the tune-up.

     Looking over Truman's shoulder, she notices a small uncut patch
     of grass, missed by Truman in one of his passes.

                           MERYL
              You missed a section.

     Meryl enters the house.  Truman restarts the lawnmower and
     obediantly pushes it towards the offending patch of lawn.  As
     the mower brushes up against the unconforming blades of grass,
     Truman pulls back abruptly.  He checks the kitchen window for
     Meryl and wheels the mower away, leaving the patch uncut.


     INT.  TRUMAN'S HOUSE - KITCHEN.  DAY.

     MERYL is applying ointment to her wrists as TRUMAN enters.

                           TRUMAN
                      (referring to her hands)
              Do they hurt?

                           MERYL
              I was afraid I'd seize up during cross.
              One of the keys kept sticking.

     Truman picks up Meryl's newspaper and skims idly through it.  He
     notes an article headlined, "SLAYING TRIAL ENTERS SIXTH WEEK".

                           TRUMAN
                      (referring to the article)
              Is he gonna take the stand?

                           MERYL
                      (dispassionate, matter-of-fact)
              No point.  Two eye witnesses saw him
              near the dumpster where they found the legs.

     She flexes her arthritic wrists.

                           MERYL
              You gonna eat before you leave?

                           TRUMAN
              I'll get something out.

                           MERYL
                      (sensing something odd
                      in his demeanor)
              Did something happen today?

     Truman turns to her too sharply, his guilt showing.

                           TRUMAN
                      (composing himself)
              What could happen?


     EXT.  UNOPENED FREEWAY.  NIGHT.

     An abandoned freeway project in Queens.  The four hundred yard
     stretch of deserted freeway is paved but unmarked.  At one end
     is an off-ramp that abruptly ends in inid-air, reinforcing steel
     protuding from the concrete.

     TRUMAN stands at the end of the off-ramp with MARLON, thirty-
     two, the kind of physique some descibe as fat, others big.
     Marlon drinks beer from a can while Truman addresses a teed-up
     golf ball with a number three wood.

     Truman winds up and swings, making a healthy contact with the
     ball.  The ball arches away into the night sky, lit by the
     adjacent operating roadway.  From a new angle we see the ball
     take a huge hop on the outside lane of the abandoned freeway and
     continue down the asphalt.

     Marlon tosses Truman another ball from a bucket of badly scarred
     golf balls - a ball initialed with the letter, "T".  Truman sets
     the ball up on the makeshift tee area and launches himself into
     his second shot.  With a slight fade, the second ball carries
     even further than the first.

     Truman hands Marlon their sole golf club without comment.
     Marlon is still looking admiringly in the direction of the shot.

                           MARLON
              Ouch.  Whose nuts were those?

                           TRUMAN
                      (opening a beer from the six pack)
              Mine.

     Marlon tees up a ball of his own. initialed with the letter "M".

                           TRUMAN
              I gotta get out, Marlon.

                           MARLON
                      (mild interest only)
              Yeah?  Outta what?

                           TRUMAN
              Outta my job, outta Queens...out!

     Marlon takes a practise swing.

                           MARLON
              Outta your job?  What the hell's wrong
              with your job?  You gotta great job.
              You gotta desk job.  I'd kill for a desk
              job.

     Marlon addresses the ball and swings.  A sweeping hook shot
     that bounces off the freeway out of bounds.

                           MARLON
                      (annoyed by the errant tee shot)
              Sonofabitch.

                           TRUMAN
              It doesn't mean anything.

                           MARLON
                      (still looking in the
                      direction of his ball)
              Nothing means anything.  Try stocking vending
              machines for a living.  My biggest decision
              of the day is whether the Almond Joys look
              better next to the Snickers or the Baby Ruths.

     Truman selects another "M" ball from the bucket and tosses it to
     Marlon.

                           TRUMAN
                      (adamant)
              I gotta get out.

     Overcompensating with his second shot, Marlon slices the ball in
     the other direction.  A lucky bounce keeps it on the cement
     fairway.

                           MARLON
                      (skeptical, picking up his beer)
              Sure and go where?

     Truman gulps his beer as he prepares his answer.

                           TRUMAN
                      (unable to disguise his reverence)
              Australia.

                           MARLON
                      (impressed)
              No shit.  Where is Australia exactly?
              Near England?

     Truman picks up a golf ball to demonstrate.  He points to a
     dimple on his make-shift globe.

                           TRUMAN
              See here, this is Queens.
                      (sliding his finger around
                      the other side of the ball)
              All the way round here, Australia.  You
              can't get any further away before you start
              coming back.
                      (tossing the world in his hand,
                      warming to his subject)
              Y'know, there're still places in Australia
              where no human being has ever set foot.

                           MARLON
                      (still dubious)
              So when are you leaving?

                           TRUMAN
              It's not that simple.  Takes money, planning.
              You can't just up and go.
                      (heading off Marlon's skepticism)
              Oh, I'm gonna do it, don't worry about
              that.  I just gotta move slow.  Pick a
              moment.  Bonus time's just around the
              corner.  Soon as I get a retaining wall
              built on the back of the house I can
              start thinking about selling up...and I'll be
              gone.  Up and away on that big steel bird.
                      (as if to convince himself)
              I'm going, don't you worry about that.

     Marlon nods even though the concept of taking flight is beyond
     his imagination.

                           MARLON
              I never knew anybody who got out.

     An awkward moment.  Truman, once again, not so sure of himself.
     He masks his doubt by teeing up another ball.

     DISSOLVE TO


     EXT.  FREEWAY.  LATER THAT NIGHT.

     TRUMAN and MARLON wander down the empty freeway, retrieving
     the golf balls.  As they return them to the bucket they check
     the initial on each ball to determine the winner of their
     long-drive competition.

                           TRUMAN
                      (slightly the worse for drink)
              Tick-fucking-tock.  That's the fucking
              problem, Marlon.  I'm thirty-four.  I'm
              older than Jesus Christ.

     Marlon looks sideways at Truman.  It sounds to him like the beer
     talking.

                           TRUMAN
              Where do the dreams go, Marlon?

                           MARLON
                      (picking up the last ball marked with an
                      initial "T", trying to ignore the question)
              You win.

                           TRUMAN
              I'm serious.  Where do the dreams go?

                           MARLON
                      (humoring his maudlin friend)
              They're still there.  Just buried under what
              we settled for.

     They approach Truman's Oldsmobile.  Truman opens the trunk to
     deposit their humble golfing equipment.  Inside are the remains
     of the fallen light fixture.

                           TRUMAN
                      (referring to the light)
              You really think it could've dropped off an
              airliner?

                           MARLON
                      (unimpressed)
              Sure.  It's halogen.  You oughta report it.
                      (quickly changing the subject)
              You coming for a drink?

                           TRUMAN
              I can't tonight.


     EXT.  EATON'S NECK POINT.  DUSK, TWENTY-SEVEN YEARS EARLIER.

     The lines of a television screen signal another of Truman's
     flashbacks.  A small group of MOURNERS in black, several openly
     weeping, stand on the end of a small jetty, including the SEVEN-
     YEAR-OLD TRUMAN, dry-eyed in an ill-fitting suit, his weeping
     MOTHER, older sister, RAQUEL, and a PRIEST at the head of the
     gathering.

     The priest nods to Truman who holds an ornate wreath, heavy and
     cumbersome in his tiny hands.  He heaves it off the dock.

     MATCH DISSOLVE TO


     EXT.  EATON'S NECK POINT, LONG ISLAND.  NIGHT, PRESENT.

     A smaller, more simple wreath lands on the calm, dark water
     beyond the jetty twenty-seven years later.  TRUMAN stares at the
     wreath for a long moment, turns and wanders back towards the
     shoreline.

     In his work suit minus his shoes and socks, he sits on the sand.
     He has a portable tape recorder slung over his shoulder and
     points a corded microphone at the surf.  For a long while we
     watch Truman's impassive face as he makes the recording of the
     lapping waves, staring up at the handful of stars visible
     through the gloom.

     We focus on the lantern room of a nearby lighthouse.  From the
     light's POV, through the green hue of a night vision camera, we
     observe Truman get to his feet and walk towards the dark water.

                           TRUMAN
                      (shouting at the surf)
              I'm sorry!  I'm sorry!


     INT.  DIMLY-LIT ROOM SOMEWHERE.  NIGHT.

     CHRISTOF's dispassionate face is reflected in the screen of a
     television monitor that displays the distraught TRUMAN at the
     water's edge.


     INT.  TRUMAN'S HOUSE.  NIGHT.

     At the Formica kitchen table, TRUMAN makes calculations in a
     school notebook, a bottle of beer close at hand.  MERYL appears
     in her robe, a glimpse of black negligee beneath, restless.  She
     throws her arms around Truman's neck.

                           MERYL
                      (suggestive)
              What are you doing?  Come to bed.

                           TRUMAN
                      (ignoring the suggestion)
              I figure we could scrape together eight
              thousand.

                           MERYL
                      (suddenly exasperated)
              Oh.  God, everytime you and Marlon--

                           TRUMAN
              --We could bum around the world for a year
              on that.

                           MERYL
              And then what, Truman?  We'd be back to
              where we were five years ago.  You're talking
              like a teenager.

                           TRUMAN
              Maybe I feel like a teenager.

     Getting to his feet.  Truman holds Meryl by the arms, talking
     excitedly to her the way we imagine he did when they were
     courting.

                           TRUMAN
              Meryl, it'd be an adventure.

                           MERYL
              We said we'd try for a baby.  Isn't that
              enough of an adventure?

                           TRUMAN
              That can wait.  I want to get away.  See
              some of the world.  Explore.

     Meryl gives a derisive laugh.

                           MERYL
              You want to be an explorer?  You mean like
              all the other great explorers from Queens?
              You don't even have a passport, Truman.  I
              bet you don't even know how to get one.

     The words sting.  Truman turns away.

     Seeing the pain she's caused, she changes tack.

                           MERYL
              This'll pass.  Everybody thinks like this
              now and then.
                      (making one more attempt
                      at seduction)
              Come to bed.


     EXT.  A NIGHTWATCHMAN'S OFFICE SOMEWHERE.  NIGHT.

     In a nightwatchman's office, two UNIFORMED GUARDS drink coffee.

                           GUARD 1
              How can they have a child?

                           GUARD 2
              It's not gonna be his, you idiot.

                           GUARD 1
              Why not?

                           GUARD 2
              You think she'd go through with it?
                      (reassessing his own opinion)
              Guess I always thought they'd adopt.


     INT.  TRUMAN'S HOUSE - BEDROOM.  NIGHT.

     TRUMAN stands in the darkened bedroom in his Hanes underwear
     looking down at his bed.  MERYL has fallen asleep waiting for
     him, snoring lightly.  Truman rests his hand tentatively on the
     bed.  The surface rocks.  A waterbed.  The motion triggers a
     flashback in his head.


     EXT.  LONG ISLAND SOUND.  DAWN, TWENTY-SEVEN YEARS EARLIER.

     As always the flashback appears to play on a television screen.
     The SEVEN-YEAR-OLD TRUMAN sits on the upturned hull of a small
     dinghy in calm, deep water.

                           TRUMAN
                      (plaintively calling into the mist)
              Daddy!!...Daddy!!...

     His cries go unanswered.


     INT.  A LIVING ROOM SOMEWHERE.  NIGHT.

     Two OLD WOMEN, seventies, sit beside wach other on a sofa
     against a bare wall, looking directly into camera as they
     talk.  Nothing else of the room is seen.

                           OLD WOMAN 1
                      (playing amateur psychiatrist)
              It left him with more than his obvious fear
              of the water.  It's as if he felt his father
              had gone beyond his limitations and he vowed
              never to repeat the mistake.  He was never
              the same curious little boy again.

                           OLD WOMAN 2
              We're all born with a pound of cocaine
              up our nose.  By the time we're eleven
              it runs out.

                           OLD WOMAN 1
              Half the people I knew named their
              babies after him.


     EXT.  LOWER MANHATTAN.  MORNING.

     TRUMAN emerges from the subway station and as usual stops at the
     newspaper stand. He picks up a copy of Vogue and flips through
     the glossy cosmetic ads, surreptitiously tearing CLAUDIA
     SCHIFFER's nose from one of the pages.  He returns the magazine
     to the rack and begins his daily pilgrimage to work through the
     rush hour pedestrian traffic.

     Pausing to check his profile in the mirrored building, he
     glimpses the reflection of a HOMELESS MAN standing directly
     behind him.  Truman, spellbound by the man, suddenly wheels
     around to face him.  The Homeless Han is in his late-sixties.
     more well-groomed and well-fed than the average vagrant, with a
     serene smile on his face.

     From a new angle we see a two-shot of Truman and the Man on a
     television screen.  The Homeless Man places his hand ever so
     gently on Truman's cheek.  Truman makes no effort to withdraw.
     He is transfixed by the the man's eyes.  He appears to recognize
     him.

                           TRUMAN
                      (almost to himself, mouthing
                      the word)
              Daddy...

     Suddenly a distinguished OLD WOMAN walking a small dog and a
     YOUNG MALE BUSINESS EXECUTIVE carrying a briefcase, walking in
     opposite directions along the sidewalk, grab the Homeless Man,
     one taking each arm.

     A bus suddenly screeches to a halt beside the struggling group,
     doors already open, and before Truman can react, the Old Woman
     and the Young Executive force the Homeless Man onto the bus.
     Truman lurches after them, but he is met by the bus doors,
     closing sharply in his face.

                           TRUMAN
                      (to BUS DRIVER)
              Hey, stop!  Stop!!

     Truman thumps against the doors, but the BUS DRIVER ignores his
     cries and the bus roars away from the curb.  He starts to run
     after the bus, colliding with several PEDESTRIANS who make no
     attempt to avoid him.

     Stepping blindly into the street, he tries to hail a taxi.
     A vacant cab suddenly switches off its "FOR HIRE" light as he
     reaches it.  Truman pleads with the TAXI DRIVER through the
     closed windows and locked doors of the cab but the driver is
     apparently oblivious to Truman's shouts.

     Frantic, Truman, dashes into a nearby parking structure and
     grabs a bunch of car keys from the key rack of the unsupervised
     parking attendant's kiosk.  Running along the rows of parked
     cars, Truman desperately presses the car security buttons
     attached to the key rings

     A car alarm chirps and Truman turns in time to see the car's
     winking sidelights.  He jumps inside a brand new BMW and guns
     the car.  The PARKING ATTENDANT, alerted by the squealing tires,
     appears from the Men's Room and attempts to wave Truman down.

                           ATTENDANT
                      (running after the car)
              Hey!

     Truman ignores the attendant and accelerates into the street
     without looking, causing a taxi and a postal van to take
     evasive action.

     Catching sight of the bus in the distance, Truman leans on the
     car's horn as he recklessly weaves past other motorists.  He is
     only a couple of car-lengths from the bus.

                           TRUMAN
                      (reading aloud, the
                      ID number of the bus)
              Two, four, oh, six.

     Suddenly the taxis and cars directly in front of him start to
     slow for no apparent reason.  Truman looks for a way around
     but the cars crab across the street, blocking any passage,
     working together almost as if they are running interference.

                           TRUMAN
                      (shouting at the cars)
              Outta the way!  Outta the way!

     The bus is escaping.

     Truman suddenly jumps the sidewalk in the car, scattering
     PEDESTRIANS.

     The same cars on the street that seemed intent on slowing his
     progress suddenly accelerate in unison, anticipating his move.
     By the time Truman reaches the end of the sidewalk, the cars are
     clustered together on the corner in an impenetrable jam.  Truman
     spies the bus turn the corner at the far end of the street and
     disappear from view.

     Fumbling with the gear stick. he finally finds reverse but turns
     to find a hostile group of PEDESTRIANS herded tightly together
     behind the car, leaving Truman with nowhere left to go.

     The car door is suddenly jerked open and the out-of-breath
     PARKING ATTENDANT yanks Truman from the driver's seat.

                           ATTENDANT
              What the fuck are you trying to pull?!

                           TRUMAN
                      (cowering, the fight instantly
                      gone out of him)
              I'm sorry!  I'm sorry!  No harm done!
              No harm done!

                           ATTENDANT
                      (feverishly inspecting the
                      fenders for dents, he finds none)
              I oughta fuck you up!

     The Attendant looks into Truman's terrified eyes.  They get
     the better of him.

                           ATTENDANT
              Get the fuck outta here.

     The Attendant shoves Truman's briefcase into his arms and
     brushes him aside.  As he departs, Truman notices that the
     traffic jam in the street and the mysterious crowd of
     pedestrians has dissolved.


     EXT.  BUS DEPOT.  DAY.

     Row after row of parked buses.  TRUMAN and MARLON exit an
     administration office.  Instead of heading for the exit, Truman
     begins marching down the first row of buses, inspecting the
     number painted on the rear of each one.

                           MARLON
              What're you doing?
                      (gesturing to the office)
              The man told you there's no such bus.

                           TRUMAN
              He's lying.  Two, four, oh, six was
              definitely the number.

     Marlon stops walking.  Truman continues his inspection.  Seeing
     there is no reasoning with him, Marlon hurries to catch him up.

                           TRUMAN
              I never believed he was dead.

                           MARLON
                      (trying to be patient)
              C'mon, Truman, a lotta times they don't find
              a body.  You know what the currents are like
              in that water.

                           TRUMAN
                      (shudders, a memory
                      flashing in his head)
              You had to see his face when that wave hit.
              He wasn't scared Marion.  It was like he
              was expecting it, waiting for it.  He
              knew it was coming.

                           MARLON
              Why would he fake it?
                      (trying to make light)
              He's not Elvis Presley.

                           TRUMAN
                      (ignoring the joke, pondering
                      the morning's events)
              You know what was really strange about today?
              An old woman with a little dog and a
              businessman, walking in opposite directions
              on the sidewalk, both react like clockwork.
              They force him onto a bus against his will,
              a bus that doesn't normally stop outside
              my building.  And when I'm giving chase, the
              bus never makes another stop and I get the
              feeling that the traffic and the pedestrians
              are working together to make sure I never
              catch up with it.

                           MARLON
                      (sarcastic)
              Oh, so now it's also the pedestrians and
              the buses and the cars?  What are you
              saying, the entire population of Lower
              Manhattan is conspiring to stop you finding
              out that your father staged his death to
              pursue a life as a street person?  Oh yeah,
              that makes sense.

     Truman has no answer.  We see an aerial shot of Truman and
     Marlon on a television screen, continuing to check the rows of
     buses, Marlon still marveling at Truman's obstinance.  They
     have come to the last bus in the final row.  Truman hangs his
     head.  The offending bus is not amongst them.  He makes towards
     the exit without comment and Marlon follows.

     Unseen by the pair, we focus on the ID number on one of the
     buses they have previously checked - "2400".  A single drip of
     black paint trickles off the last freshly painted digit.


     EXT.  MANHATTAN STREET.  DAY.

     TRUMAN and MARLON, drinking beer, sit in the rear doorway of
     Marion's delivery van, wholesale-sized boxes of candy stacked
     behind them.

                           TRUMAN
              You think I imagined it, don't you?

                           MARLON
              I think you're missing your dad.
                      (trying to be delicate)
              The anniversary was yesterday, wasn't it?

     Truman is surprised Marlon remembered.  Marlon nods to the
     sidewalk.

                           MARLON
              You got sand in your cuffs.

     Truman looks down at his feet.  A small, tell-tale pile of sand
     has poured out of his tight trouser cuff.

                           TRUMAN
              Maybe you're right.  If only the old
              woman hadn't left her dog behind.

     We see a flashback in Truman's head of the earlier scene in the
     Lower Manhattan street.  It confirms that the old woman's DOG
     was abandoned on the sidewalk.


     INT.  TRUMAN'S MOTHER'S APARTMENT, QUEENS.  DAY.

     TRUMAN stands in the corridor of his mother's cramped, fussy.
     doilyed apartment with his older sister, RAQUEL, late forties,
     prematurely grey.  Through a doorway, the figure of his MOTHER
     is visible asleep in bed, despite the early hour.  Truman and
     Raquel speak in hushed tones to avoid waking her.

                           RAQUEL
              Don't you dare go in. Truman.  I just
              got her off to sleep.

                           TRUMAN
              It was Dad. I swear.

     Raquel fixes Truman with a contemptuous stare.

                           RAQUEL
              Well, the next time he shows up. bring
              him over.  Until then, I'm not saying a
              word about this to Mom and neither are you.

                           TRUMAN
              If it wasn't him, it was his twin.  Can you
              think of a reason he'd want to hide from us?

                           RACQUEL
              I know a reason he'd want to hide from you.
              Look at how you treat us.  You live ten minutes
              away, we hardly see you from year to year and
              then you turn up with this story so insane you
              don't even believe it yourself.  Haven't you
              hurt her enough, Truman?  She already blames you.

                           TRUMAN
                      (incredulous)
              I was seven years old!

                           RAQUEL
              But you're here and he's not.  Has it really taken you
              this long to invent a story to ease your conscience?

                           TRUMAN
              I'm telling you he's alive!

                           RAQUEL
                      (snapping back bitterly)
              And I'm telling you he's fish food!

     Truman meets her unforgiving eyes.  Without another word, he
     walks out of the apartment.

     Truman safely departed, the figure in the bed, rolls out.
     CHRISTOF, fully clothed, relishing the danger of being so close
     to Truman without being detected.  Raquel's demeanor immediately
     changes, all trace of bitterness gone from her face, she appears
     younger, posture more upright, almost a different person.
     Christof hugs Raquel.

                           CHRISTOF
              You did well.


     INT.  DRESSING ROOM SOMEWHERE.  NIGHT.

     A cavernous dressing room contains a long row of identical
     mirrored make-up tables.  At the only occupied table, Truman's
     contrite father, KIRK, is having what's left of his homeless
     disguise cleaned from his face by a MAKE-UP ARTIST under the
     watchful eye of two DARK-SUITED BODYGUARDS.

     From a mezzanine floor out of Kirk's vision, CHRISTOF and CHLOE
     also take in the proceedings.  Behind their heads, a monitor
     shows a surveillance picture of an agitated TRUMAN sitting in
     his car, trapped in rush-hour traffic.

                           CHLOE
              We've tightened security.

     Christof nods indifferently, knowing the damage is already done.

                           CHLOE
                      (referring to Kirk)
              Why would he do this to us?

                           CHRISTOF
              Old age.  Sentiment.  You play someone's
              father all those years, you are someone's
              father...He sees the way Truman is.  He
              feels responsible.

     Christof turns and enters an office adjacent to the balcony,
     containing a state-of-the-art monitor and VCR.  Chloe follows.
     Christof plays the cued recording without comment.  We focus on
     the screen.


     EXT.  LONG ISLAND SOUND.  DAY, TWENTY-SEVEN YEARS EARLIER.

     A younger-looking CHRISTOF sits in a motorboat in the calm
     water of Long Island Sound.  Truman's father, KIRK, twenty-seven
     years younger and a DARK HAIRED BOY, Truman's age at the time,
     acting as a stand-in, sit in the stern of a sailing dinghy.
     Two SCUBA DIVERS in the ocean.

                           YOUNG CHRISTOF
                      (barking instructions to Kirk)
              ...as soon as we give the cue, tack to windward...

     Kirk rehearses turning the tiller in the instructed direction.

                           YOUNG CHRISTOF
              The freak wave will strike from the
              starboard side.  Remember, you don't
              go to the diver.  The diver goes to you.

     To simulate the wave, one of the divers puts his full weight on
     the side of the dinghy to capsize it.  Kirk and the boy are
     tossed into the water.  While the boy immediately bobs to the
     surface in his life jacket, Kirk fails to surface.  After a long
     moment, he reappears with the second diver some distance away.
     now wearing a spare aqualung.

                           YOUNG CHRISTOF
              ...Good!  Good!...of course, on the day you
              only surface once you're safely beyond the
              cove...Try it one more time...You okay?

     Kirk is staring at Truman's stand-in, clinging to the upturned
     boat.  Kirk's expression suggests he is not a totally willing
     participant in the masquerade.

     The present-day Christof freezes the monitor on Kirk's uncertain
     face.


     INT.  TRUMAN'S GARAGE.  DUSK.

     A cluttered garage, dimly lit by a single work lamp.  TRUMAN
     looks over his shoulder before turning his attention to a dusty
     trunk under a canvas sheet.  The trunk is fastened with a
     combination lock.  He deftly dials the correct combination and
     opens the lid.

     Inside, mementoes from his youth.  A "HOW TO SAIL" book, a
     stack of "GREAT EXFLORERS" magazines, and beneath it all, a
     garment in a drycleaning bag.  Truman carefully lifts up the
     plastic to reveal a schoolgirl's lavender cardigan decorated
     with pearl beading.  He puts the cardigan to his nose and
     breathes deeply.

     Footsteps.  Truman hastily drops the cardigan in the trunk and
     shuts the lid.  MERYL, standing close behind.

                           MERYL
              What're you doing out here?

                           TRUMAN
                      (turning attention to an upturned
                      mower on the garage floor)
              Fixing the mower.

     Meryl doesn't look like she buys it.

                           MERYL
                      (concerned)
              Your sister called.  She was worried about you.

                           TRUMAN
                      (matter-of-fact)
              I saw my father on State Street dressed as
              a homeless man.

                           MERYL
                      (attempting to comfort)
              I kept seeing my brother for years after he died.

                           TRUMAN
                      (irritated at her subtle dismissiveness)
              What do you want?

                           MERYL
              I made macaroni.

                           TRUMAN
              I gotta go out.  About a replacement...
                      (hastily adding)
              ...mower blade.

     Meryl nods, not at all convinced.  After an uncomfortable
     pause, she turns and heads back to the house.


     EXT.  CAR WASH.  DUSK.

     TRUMAN ruefully examines the broken car aerial on his freshly
     washed Oldsmobile.  In the background is the warning sign he
     has just ignored, "CLOSE WINDOWS, LOWER AERIALS".

     Truman removes the metal coathanger from beneath the lavender
     cardigan and forces the bent wire into what's left of the
     severed aerial.


     INT.  TRUMAN'S CAR.  DUSK.

     TRUMAN motors down a busy shopping street, crowded on both sides
     with PEDESTRIANS.  As he drives, he tests his car radio.
     Adjusting the tuner knob, he finds a station.

                           FEMALE VOICE (from radio)
              ...west on Atlantic...he's making a right
              on Woodhaven...

     Truman glances up at the street signs along his route and finds
     that they coincide exactly with the streets quoted on the radio.
     Distracted, he almost bowls over an OLD LADY on a crosswalk.

                           MALE VOICE (from radio)
              ...God, Truman almost hit Marilyn!...he's
              on the move again, passing the Burger King...

     Truman readjusts the radio as it starts to fade out. Suddenly
     there is a piercing blast of feedback.  He looks up and, as far
     as the eye can see, every PEDESTRIAN, MOTORIST and SHOPKEEPER
     along the street suddenly winces in pain and holds their right
     ear at exactly the same moment.

                           MALE VOICE
                      (from radio, in distress himself)
              ...something's wrong.  Change frequencies...

     Truman tries to pick up the channel once again but without
     success.


     EXT.  DRUG STORE.  DUSK.

     Still shaken by his experience with the radio, TRUMAN exits
     a Drug Store with a small, brown paper bag.  Out of the corner
     of his eye he catches a MALE BYSTANDER still checking his right
     ear with his finger.  He goes to say something to the by-stander
     but thinks better of it.


     EXT.  REDLIGHT DISTRICT, QUEENS.  NIGHT.

     HOOKERS in white heels and spray-on skirts display their wares.
     TRUMAN cruises slowly past in his Oldsmobile, the expression of
     the prostitutes turning from seductive to contemptuous as each
     is by-passed.

     Suddenly Truman pulls sharply into the curb beside a leggy,
     prostitute, VERONICA, wearing a platinum blonde wig.  She is in
     deep discussion with a fellow WORKING GIRL.  Veronica recognizes
     the car and instantly bends down to the open passenger window.

                           VERONICA
              Hey, Truman!  Where you bin?  You bin
              cheatin' on me?

     Veronica opens the door and folds herself into the passenger
     seat.


     INT.  TRUMAN'S CAR.  NIGHT.

     VERONICA knows the form.  As TRUMAN pulls away from the curb,
     she is already removing the lavender cardigan from the
     drycleaning bag on the back seat.  She drapes the cardigan
     around her shoulders.
                           VERONICA
              Bout time you got this thing cleaned.
                      (half-joking)
              Don't tell me you bin makin' your old lady
              wear it.

     Truman passes her the brown paper bag without reply.  Veronica
     removes a bottle of perfume and proceeds to liberally apply it.

                           VERONICA
                      (examining the bottle)
              God, do they still make this stuff?
              What's the Sell-By Date?


     INT.  FLUSHING MEADOW PARK.  NIGHT.

     From a vantage point in a disused tower high above the park.
     CHRISTOF and CHLOE watch as Truman's Oldsmobile enters the park
     grounds and comes to a stop near the large metal framed globe,
     the Unisphere.  Both Christof and Chloe wear earpieces, a
     miniature television propped at their feet shows a close-up
     picture of TRUMAN and VERONICA inside the car.

                           CHLOE
                      (into a flip-phone,
                      condescending)
              ...you see him messing with the antenna...what
              did you think would happen?..."lapse of
              concentration", is that what you call it?
              I call it amateur-hour...
                      (sarcastic)
              In case you hadn't noticed, we don't get to
              do it over.

     Christof, totally unfazed, regards his zealous young assistant
     with affection and even a mild amusement.

                           CHLOE
                      (as she hangs up, querying the
                      smile that plays around his lips)
              You think this is funny?

                           CHRISTOF
              The mask has slipped before.  Everything
              can be explained.

     TRUMAN kills the lights and he and VERONICA exit the car
     unaware that they are being observed.

                           CHRISTOF
                      (adopting a more serious tone
                      as he returns his attention to Truman)
              What's dangerous is that he makes the connection
              between what happened today and the girl.

     We focus on Truman and Veronica as they take a seat at the edge
     of the pool surrounding the great steel globe.

                           VERONICA
              Like I say, I don't normally do this.
              I gotta charge extra.

     Truman nods his agreement and forks over several bills.
     Veronica deposits the money in her purse and perches herself as
     modestly as possible on the edge of the fountain.

     When she is ready, Truman tenderly places his arm around her
     shoulder.  Veronica responds, hesitantly, becoming immersed in
     her role.  She reaches out her own hand and rests it on the
     nape of his neck.  Slowly both heads drift together, but stop
     just short of their lips meeting, agonizingly close.  So close
     they can feel each other's breath, barely a sliver of daylight
     separating them.  Then finally their lips touch in the most
     gentle of caresses.

     They hold the kiss for another long moment and then
     simultaneously break.  As they look into each other's eyes,
     Truman goes to say something but Veronica hushes him by placing
     a finger to his lips.  Then abruptly she moves out of frame, the
     cardigan falling from around her shoulders in her haste.

     From Truman's POV we focus on the cardigan on the pavement,
     triggering a flashback in his head.


     INT.  HIGH SCHOOL CORRIDOR.  DAY, SEVENTEEN YEARS EARLIER.

     As with Truman's previous flashbacks, this scene appears to be
     playing on a television screen.  However, on this occasion it is
     also accompanied by CHRISTOF's comments from his perch in the
     tower above the park.

                           CHRISTOF (V.O.)
              He's re-created the event on and off for a
              number of years.  We've never understood what
              prompts him to indulge the fantasy, or for that
              matter what inspired such a painfully shy boy
              to approach her in the first place...

     A SEVENTEEN-YEAR-OLD TRUMAN, carrying a stack of books, spies
     LAUREN, sixteen going on thirty-five, wearing the lavender,
     beaded cardigan at her open locker.  She is entertaining two
     GIRLFRIENDS with what appears to be a lewd tale.

                           CHRISTOF (V.O.)
              We'd noticed them making eyes at each other
              for some weeks but never thought he'd say
              anything.  She was a year older, wrote poetry,
              way out of his league...

     Truman, obviously terrified, musters the nerve to approach the
     lockers.  The three girls look up, surprised by the
     interruption.

                           TRUMAN
                      (to Lauren, tongue-tied, a strangled greeting)
              Hi.

                           GIRLFRIEND 1
                      (to Lauren as the two girlfriends
                      abruptly depart)
              See you in class.

     Lauren is unsure whether or not to follow her friends.

                           TRUMAN
              Lauren, right?

     Her name is carefully written in blue ink on the covers of her
     text books.

                           LAUREN
              No.

                           TRUMAN
                      (ignoring her lack of interest)
              Look.  I was wonder--

                           LAUREN
              --I can't go out with you.

                           TRUMAN
              I haven't asked you yet.

                           LAUREN
              Well when you do, that's my answer.
                      (softening)
              I'm sorry.  It's not up to me.

                           TRUMAN
                      (summoning up courage from somewhere)
              Why, you married?

     Lauren smiles despite herself.

                           TRUMAN
              I'm not asking you to have my children,
              just a pizza.  How about Saturday?

                           LAUREN
                      (adamant)
              No.

                           TRUMAN
              Friday?

     Lauren looks around the deserted school corridor.

                           LAUREN
              Now.

                           TRUMAN
              Right now?  We got finals.

                           LAUREN
              If we don't go now, it won't happen.

     Truman hesitates.

                           LAUREN
                      (impatient, looking anxiously around)
              Well, what do you want to do?

     THE PICTURE ON THE TELEVISION SCREEN SUDDENLY FAST-FORWARDS AT
     SUCH SPEED IT BECOMES A BLUR - THEN RETURNS TO NORMAL SPEED.


     EXT.  FLUSHING MEADOW PARK.  DUSK.

     The SEVENTEEN-YEAR-OLD TRUMAN and LAUREN enter the park near the
     Unisphere.  The park is deserted on a hot June afternoon.

                           CHRISTOF (V.O.)
              We knew we were taking a risk.  She hadn't
              been properly coached, but we were torn...
              He'd summoned the courage to make the
              approach...We wanted to reward that.  Of
              course she took full advantage...

     Truman and Lauren run up to the ledge of the pool surrounding
     the steel sculpture.

                           LAUREN
              I never knew this place existed.

     They both stare down at the inviting water.  Lauren suddenly
     throws off her cardigan and jumps into the pool without another
     thought.  She comes splashing to the surface.  Truman stares
     down, transfixed hy the shimmering water.

                           LAUREN
              Come on!  Come on!  It's wonderful!

                           TRUMAN
                      (nervous)
              I...I can't.

     Lauren suddenly stops splashing.

                           LAUREN
              That's right.  Oh, God, I'm sorry.

     She quickly climbs out of the pool, dripping wet.

                           TRUMAN
                      (confused)
              Why? You've got nothing to be sorry about.
              Has someone been talking to you?

     Lauren wrings out her dress.

                           LAUREN
                      (to the sky, upset)
              Get me out of here.  I don't want to
              be here.

     Lauren starts walking away.

                           TRUMAN
                      (confused, calling after her)
              What are you talking about?  Lauren!  Lauren!

     Truman runs after Lauren and holds her by the arms, forcing
     her to face him.

                           LAUREN
                      (distraught)
              My name's not Lauren!  It's Sylvia!

     Truman looks into her eyes and believes her.

     THE PICTURE FAST-FORWARDS AGAIN AT HIGH SPEED FOR A MOMENT AND
     RETURNS TO NORMAL.

     TRUMAN and SYLVIA (as she is now called throughout the remainder
     of the movie) sit on the ledge of the pool - the same spot as
     Truman and the hooker, Veronica, seventeen years later.  As we
     have just seen imitated, Sylvia and Truman kiss with great
     delicacy.  Truman goes to say something but she covers his lips
     with her finger.

                           SYLVIA
              In a minute someone's going to come and
              stop me talking to you.

                           TRUMAN
                      (looking around the deserted park)
              Who?  There's no one around.

                           SYLVIA
                      (covering his lips once again)
              You remember when you were a little boy,
              you stood up in class and said you wanted
              to be an explorer like Magellan.  And your
              teacher, Sister Olivia said, "You're too
              late, Truman.  There's nothing left to
              explore."  And all the other kids laughed.
              And you sat down.

                           TRUMAN
                      (incredulous)
              How do you know about that?

                           SYLVIA
              It doesn't matter.  You've forgotten about
              that boy, Truman.  You got scared.  Just
              because something happens, doesn't mean you
              can't take another chance in your life.

                           TRUMAN
              I don't understand.

                           SYLVIA
                      (looking over her shoulder nervously)
              There isn't much time.  Just listen.
              Everybody's pretending Truman.  Everybody
              but you.
                      (pointing to the
                      buildings on the horizon)
              Look at that project.  You think anybody
              lives there?  It's all for you, Truman.
              A show.  The eyes are everywhere.

                           TRUMAN
                      (protesting)
              Eyes?  Where?

                           SYLVIA
                      (frustrated, raving)
              Everywhere, disguised...Truman, they're
              going to fill your head with lies.
              You've got to make yourself deaf, you
              understand?  When you're afraid the most, it
              means you're on the right track.  Trust that
              boy.  Promise me you'll do that?

     Truman nods, unsure of the commitment he is making.

     Suddenly a 1962 Plymouth roars towards the fountain out of
     nowhere.

                           SYLVIA
                      (scared)
              I told you, Truman!

     The car skids to a stop and a large MAN, 40ish, with a shock of
     dark hair jumps from the car.  The man yanks the frightened
     Sylvia to her feet causing her cardigan to fall to the ground.

                           TRUMAN
                      (shocked)
              Hey!

                           MAN
                      (to Sylvia)
              Get in the car, Lauren!

     Truman jumps up.

                           TRUMAN
                      (to the Man)
              Who are you?!

                           MAN
              I'm her father!

                           SYLVIA
              No he's not!  He's just saying that!
              Does he look anything like me?!

                           TRUMAN
              Shut your mouth!

     The man backhands Sylvia roughly across the face and bundles
     her into his car.  Truman rushes at the man.

                           TRUMAN
              Leave her alone!

     The man easily fends Truman off, knocking him to the ground.
     He slams shut the passenger door of the Plymouth.

                           MAN
                      (to Sylvia)
              I told you not to come here anymore!
                      (to Truman, who is getting
                      to his feet)
              Which one are you?

     Truman is suddenly struck dumb, the doubts start crowding back
     into his head.

                           SYLVIA
                      (calling out from the car)
              Don't listen to him, Truman.  Make yourself
              deaf.  Come find me.

                           MAN
                      (to Truman, getting into the car)
              Don't bother!  We're moving to Australia.
              New York's done something to her head.

     The Plymouth roars away.  Truman stares after it and then
     turns back to the cardigan left on the ground.

                           CHRISTOF (V.O.)
              Why did he say Australia?  Why couldn't he
              have said New Jersey?


     EXT.  FLUSHING MEADOW.  DUSK, PRESENT DAY.

     VERONICA'S head suddenly appears back in frame beside TRUMAN.

                           VERONICA
              You want me to do it again?  I think I
              could do it better.

                           TRUMAN
                      (coming back to reality)
              No...thank you.

     Truman picks up the cardigan.  They return to the car.


     INT.  TRUMAN'S CAR.  NIGHT.

     TRUMAN drives VERONICA back to her turf.  She smokes a
     cigarette, flicking ash out of the window.

                           TRUMAN
              Veronica, what do you know for sure?

                           VERONICA
              For sure?
                      (taking a long drag on her cigarette
                      as she gives the question due
                      consideration)
              The nuns at my school, they used to say,
              "The whole of life is faith."

     Truman regards his companion in a new light.  He comes to a stop
     at the corner where he picked her up.

                           VERONICA
                      (giving Truman an affectionate
                      peck on the cheek)
              On the house.


     INT.  HIGH SCHOOL CORRIDOR.  DAY, SEVENTEEN YEARS EARLIER.

     Another televised flashback.  The SEVENTEEN-YEAR-OLD TRUMAN
     stands reflectively beside Sylvia's open and vacated locker.

                           CHRISTOF (V.O.)
              We removed all physical trace of her
              but we couldn't erase the memory...

     ANOTHER SHORT BURST OF FAST-FORWARD AND THEN THE PICTURE RETURNS
     TO NORMAL SPEED.


     INT.  HIGH SCHOOL LIBRARY.  DAY

     In a secluded corner of the library the SEVENTEEN-YEAR-OLD
     TRUMAN sits at a table surrounded by a stack of glossy women's
     magazines.  By tearing out individual facial features - eyes.
     nose, mouth, ears, chin, hair - from photographs of YOUNG WOMEN
     in the magazine's advertisements, Truman has been able to
     improvise a composite picture of Sylvia.

     The montage is a passable likeness although Truman is not
     completely satisfied with Sylvia's nose.  He toys with
     several nose examples before reluctantly settling for one.
     He stares wistfully at the completed picture.

     ANOTHER BURST OF FAST-FORWARD


     INT.  SEVENTEEN-YEAR-OLD TRUMAN'S HOUSE.  DAY.

     SEVENTEEN-YEAR-OLD TRUMAN enters the front door.  His older
     sister, RAQUEL, has been awaiting his arrival.

                           CHRISTOF (V.O.)
              When he decided to go after Sylvia, we
              were forced to intervene once again...

                           TRUMAN
                      (excited)
              I've got something to tell you, Sis.

                           RAQUEL
                      (adopting a low, serious tone)
              I've got something to tell you too.

                           TRUMAN
                      (unable to contain his news)
              I'm going to Australia.

                           RAQUEL
              Mom's real sick.

     Truman's face falls.  As he enters the bedroom where his ill
     MOTHER lies gazing at the ceiling, we focus on his EXCHANGE
     STUDENT APPLICATION that he has inadvertently crushed in his
     hands.

     THE FLASHBACK SEQUENCE OVER, WE RETURN TO THE PRESENT TIME WITH
     THE IMAGE NO LONGER APPEARING ON A TELEVISION SCREEN.


     INT.  TRUMAN'S CAR.  NIGHT

     TRUMAN turns into his street but stops several houses short of
     his own driveway and kills the car's engine.  In the light of a
     streetlamp, Truman opens his briefcase and removes the framed
     photograph of his wife, MERYL.  But he turns his wife's face
     away from him and opens the clasps on the back of the frame.

     Removing the backing, he exposes the composite picture of SYLVIA
     we witnessed in the flashback of his youth, worn and faded by
     the years.  With the frame on his lap, Truman retrieves a
     handful of paper fragments from his jacket.  Noses.  He tests
     the likeness of each one in turn.  Unsatisfied that any of the
     new noses is an improvement, Truman tosses them out of his car
     window.  We watch the paper fragments blowing in the breeze as
     Truman's car proceeds down the street and into his driveway.


     EXT.  SYLVIA'S BEACH HOUSE.  DAY.

     Close up on a nose.  We pull back to reveal that the nose
     belongs to SYLVIA, seventeen years older than Truman's composite
     picture - slimmer in the face, wearing her hair shorter.
     She is standing at the water's edge on a long, deserted
     windswept beach, several sailing dinghys pulled up beyond the
     high-water line.  In the background, a solitary, white
     beachfront house - an other-worldliness to the idyllic scene.

     Looking up into the sky, Sylvia's attention is drawn to a piece
     of paper carried on the ocean breeze.  The paper catches on the
     mast of one of the sailing dinghys.  A page from a newspaper,
     carrying a photograph of TRUMAN in the street where he
     encountered his father.  Sylvia retrieves the page.  The
     article's headline reads, "TRUMAN'S FATE IN DOUBT".

     Spying a MAN, late-thirties, kindly face, riding up to the beach
     house on an old bicycle, Sylvia secrets the page under her
     sweater.  The man waves cheerfully as he comes to join her on
     the sand.  Sylvia waves cheerfully back.


     INT.  BAR SOMEWHERE.  NIGHT.

     In a quiet bar, a WAITRESS patiently explains her viewpoint to
     the BARMAN.  A PATRON on a barstool, eavesdrops.

                           WAITRESS
              She was willing to lose him if it meant he
              could find himself.
                      (registering the barman's blank look)
              Never mind.


     EXT.  TRAIN STATION PARKING LOT.  MORNING.

     TRUMAN sits in his car, about to lace his coffee.  From inside
     the adjacent Elementary School gymnasium, he hears the familiar
     excited squeals and shouts of SCHOOL CHILDREN.  Truman suddenly
     throws aside his miniature of Jack Daniels and sprints across
     the parking lot and into the school.


     INT.  UTOPIA ELEMENTARY SCHOOL.  MORNING.

     TRUMAN slams through the front doors into the reception area.
     It is deserted, no one stationed at the administration desk, the
     corridors empty.  He runs down a vacant corridor, pushing open
     classroom doors as he goes.  They are all unoccupied.

     Finally, he stands outside the gymnasium.  The childrens'
     voices can still be heard.  Truman takes a deep breath and
     bursts through the double doors.

     The room is empty save for a large reel-to-reel tape recorder
     in the middle of the basketball court playing a continuous tape
     of childrens' voices.  The recorder is attached to speakers on
     tall stands facing the ventilation ducts.  Truman stares at the
     machine in disbelief.


     EXT.  LOWER MANHATTAN STREET.  MORNING.

     TRUMAN exits the subway, still lost in thought.  He stops at
     the newstand and picks up a copy of Vanity Fair to resume his
     ritual search but his heart is not in it.

     He starts his trek to work, pausing to stare at his reflection
     in the mirrored building, hoping that the Homeless Man will
     appear at his side once again.  But no one joins him.

     However, as Truman continues to stare, it is the building itself
     that takes his interest.  An imposing forty-story office
     building, a black, sheer mirrored box clad in the kind of
     reflective glass that shields its occupants from the world, a
     building Truman passes every day.

     As usual, a steady stream of EMPLOYEES and VISITORS enter and
     exit the building's high-ceilinged lobby past an intimidating
     security desk manned by two UNIFORMED GUARDS.  Beyond security
     are banks of elevators, ferrying executives, clerical staff and
     delivery personnel to and from their floors of business.


     Truman abruptly enters the building.  He strides confidently
     past the security desk trying to look as if he belongs.

                           SECURITY GUARD 1
                      (to Truman)
              Can I help?

                           TRUMAN
                      (sneaking a glance at the
                      building directory)
              I have an appointment at, er...Diamond
              Enterprises.

                           SECURITY GUARD 1
              They went bust.

     The second Security Guard is rising from his seat to block
     Truman's path to the elevators but Truman reads his mind
     and makes a dash for it.

     He slips into an elevator just as the doors are closing,
     defeating the flailing arm of the pursuing guard.  A WOMAN
     EXECUTIVE in the elevator looks in horror at Truman.  The cause
     of her concern becomes all too apparent.  Looking beyond the
     woman, Truman discovers that there is no back to the elevator
     car.

     The elevator is simply an opening into the body of the building.
     Truman pushes past the Woman to be confronted with the fact that
     the entire office block is nothing but a giant, empty shell with
     no floors above the ground floor.

     The PEOPLE Truman has just witnessed entering the other
     elevators are milling around a refreshment table, sitting on
     folding chairs, changing their clothes behind temporary
     curtained cubicles or lining up to re-enter the bogus elevator
     cars.  Gradually, they all turn to gape at Truman, who in turn
     stares back, appalled.

     The Security Guards suddenly appear at Truman's side and take
     him by the arm.

                           SECURITY GUARD 1
              You gotta leave.

                           TRUMAN
                      (riveted by the equally-stunned
                      building occupants)
              What're they doing?

                           SECURITY GUARD 2
              You gotta leave.

     The Guards frog-march Truman out of the huge facade towards an
     Emergency Exit.

                           TRUMAN
                      (not going quietly)
              Just tell me what the hell's going on?

                           SECURITY GUARD 1
              We're re-modelling.

                           TRUMAN
              Like fuck!  What're they doing?


     EXT.  LOWER MANHATTAN STREET.  DAY.

     TRUMAN continues to struggle as the GUARDS usher him to the
     street.

                           TRUMAN
              You don't tell me, I'll get you investigated!

                           SECURITY GUARD 2
              Investigate what?  You're trespassing!

     Truman sees there is no point in arguing further.  His
     shouts are attracting the interest of PASSERS-BY.  A thought
     occurs to him.

     He starts to run along the street, suddenly entering another
     building at random.  An office block with a bank on the ground
     floor.  As he skirts the bank, he feels the eyes of the BANK
     STAFF and CUSTOMERS on him.  Is he so suspicious-looking or
     were they expecting him?

     Truman rushes to the elevators.  The lights above the doors
     show all the elevators on upper floors.  Frantic pressing
     of the elevator button gets no response.  Truman heads for the
     stairs but is intercepted by a BANK OFFICIAL who bars his way.

                           OFFICIAL
              You can't--

                           TRUMAN
                      (anticipating his response)
              --I know.

     Truman backs away out of the office and continues to run down
     the streets of Lower Manhattan's financial district.  Every
     building he encounters seems to have a SECURITY GUARD
     anticipating his arrival or a building OFFICIAL hanging a CLOSED
     FOR BUSINESS sign on the front door.

     He feels the eyes of PEDESTRIANS.  Is he simply drawing
     attention to himself by his behavior?  Truman wheels around,
     trying to make eye contact with passers-by.  They shy away.
     Truman stops still, his head reeling.


     INT.  INSURANCE COMPANY.  DAY.

     From the office window on the twelfth floor, TRUMAN can observe
     the glass building down the street.  He ponders the black,
     mirrored box.  LAWRENCE appears at his side.

                           TRUMAN
              You ever been into the AMT Building?

                           LAWRENCE
                      (following Truman's gaze)
              Not since they begun reconstruction.
                      (referring to the file
                      in Truman's hands)
              What're you doing with that?

                           TRUMAN
                      (defensive)
              I'm going to visit a site.

                           LAWRENCE
              What for?

                           TRUMAN
              Because I never do.

                           LAWRENCE
                      (placing a hand on Truman's arm)
              That's why we got adjusters.

                           TRUMAN
                      (looking at Lawrence's hand
                      on his arm)
              You got a problem with me going?

                           LAWRENCE
              I got a problem with you not doing your job,
              Burbank.  You already screwed up once this week.

                           TRUMAN
              Let me worry about that.

     Truman exits with the report.  After waiting only a matter of
     seconds for an elevator, he impatiently enters the stairwell.

     As soon as he disappears from sight, a grim CHRISTOF emerges
     from a nearby office, shadowed as always by CHLOE.   They
     approach Lawrence with the familiarity of business associates.

                           LAWRENCE
              680 West 89th.

     Christof nods.  Chloe opens a flip-phone to make a call.


     INT.  INSURANCE CO. - STAIRWELL.  DAY.

     An out-of-breath TRUMAN arrives on the second floor landing of
     the stairwell to find two burly MOVERS blocking his path
     with a large office desk they are attempting to transport.
     Truman considers retracing his steps, then without warning
     clambers over the mahogany barrier.

                           MOVER 1
              Hey, would it kill ya to wait?!


     INT.  SUBWAY.  DAY.

     TRUMAN paces impatiently on an empty subway platform with other
     frustrated passengers.  He loses patience and suddenly
     turns and runs up the stairs.

     INT.  TAXI CAB.  DAY.

     TRUMAN sits seething in a traffic jam that exists for no
     apparent reason.

                           TRUMAN
                      (impatiently to driver)
              Is there another way?  Can't you get around
              this?


     EXT.  A CHARRED APARTMENT BUILDING ON THE UPPER WEST SIDE.  DAY.

     TRUMAN exits his taxi and takes in the scene.  A partially
     burnt building, waterlogged, still faintly smoldering.  Truman
     checks the address on his file.  A small, serious-looking BOY
     straddles his bicycle on the sidewalk.

                           TRUMAN
                      (to the boy)
              When was the fire?

                           BOY
                      (shrug)
              Week ago.

                           TRUMAN
              How come it's still smoking?

                           BOY
              Started up again.
                      (dismissive)
              Kids.

                           TRUMAN
                      (referring to his claims report)
              Says here it burnt to the ground.

                           BOY
              Wishful thinking maybe?

     The boy is wise well beyond his years.  Truman fixes him with a
     glare.

                           TRUMAN
              Someone send you to tell me all this?

                           BOY
                      (unfazed)
              You the one askin' questions.

     The boy casually rides away.


     EXT.  CITY PARK.  DAY.

     TRUMAN wanders aimlessly through a city park, observing.  We
     sense, truly observing for the first time.

     A group of YOUTHS play a pick-up game of basketball.  A YOUNG
     WOMAN walks a pair of AFGHAN HOUNDS.  An OLD MAN answers the
     incessant questions of his GRANDCHILD.  Nothing appears amiss.


     EXT.  TIMES SQUARE.  DAY.

     TRUMAN stands amidst a throng of TOURISTS and COMMUTERS marooned
     on Times Square.  Mesmerized by the two fast-moving rivers of
     vehicles flowing through the intersection.

     Truman stares down at the street, contemplating stepping out
     into the traffic.  However as his foot is poised, the stream
     of cars that passed so close by seconds earlier, now appear to
     be giving him a wider berth.  He steps off the sidewalk and.
     to an acompaniment of car horns, begins to wander back and forth
     without fear through the traffic, confident that each vehicle
     will take evasive action.

     Safely on the other side of the street, he stands in front of
     the window of an electronics store.  He watches a local TV
     news show covering the Santa Maria replica moored near Pier 13.

     However Truman is forced to look away when he glimpses his own
     face on another TV taking a feed from a camcorder aimed out the
     store window.  He shudders at his video reflection.


     INT.  DIMLY-LIT ROOM SOMEWHERE.  DAY.

     TRUMAN'S face stares out from a televison monitor.  We slowly
     pull back to reveal that other smaller monitors surround the
     first until we find ourselves staring at a video wall in a room
     the size of a football field.

     The curved bank of monitors, suspended by cables from the
     ceiling, gives the appearance of a giant patch-work mobile.
     Investigating the screens we discover surveillance pictures from
     all over New York City, covering every facet of Truman's life.
     Camera angles from the interior of Truman's house, his backyard,
     car, subway station, office, the deli he frequents, the seashore
     to which he is drawn, the park he visits with Veronica, the
     abandoned freeway where he golfs with Marlon, many of the
     locations strangely devoid of people.

     Beneath the video wall is a state-of-the-art mixing desk, its
     illuminated buttons glowing brightly in the gloom.  Facing the
     desk, several OPERATORS in high-backed, high-tech swivel chairs,
     wearing the slimmest of headsets.  SIMEON, a meticulous young
     man with a penetrating gaze, sits directly in front of the
     largest of the monitors, co-ordinating camera angles.

     CHRISTOF stands over Simeon's shoulder, staring intently at the
     live picture of Truman now seated at a streetside cafe,
     continuing to inspect his surroundings.  CHLOE hovers in the
     background.

     There is an uncomfortable silence in the control room as the
     production crew feel themselves under scrutiny for the first
     time.  Christof leans forward and talks soothingly into a
     microphone on the control panel.

                           CHRISTOF
              ...Everybody stay focused...remember who
              you are...


     EXT.  STREETSIDE CAFE, LITTLE ITALY.  DAY.

     TRUMAN sits alone at the table, still looking for a false move.

     A DELIVERY MAN unloads boxes from the back of his truck and
     carries them into a Restaurant Supply store.  Further down the
     street CONSTRUCTION WORKERS take their time tending to an
     electrical repair in an exposed manhole.  A POSTAL WORKER does
     his rounds.  An OLD WOMAN struggles with two heavy shopping
     bags.  Everybody appears natural, places to go.

     Truman turns his attention to a group of ITALIAN-LOOKING MEN
     at the only other occupied table at the cafe.  We see extreme
     close-ups as Truman scans the men's faces for any sign of
     phoniness.  They are talking loudly, making suggestive comments
     to the WAITRESS and generally showing off like schoolboys.
     Their behavior passes the test, all seems genuine.

     Truman idly regards his three-stone wedding ring with which he
     has been fidgeting.


     INT.  CONTROL ROOM.  DAY.

     The on-air monitor shows TRUMAN from the ring's POV, revealing
     that the small center diamond contains a miniature, hidden
     camera.  Truman suspects nothing.

     He looks up to find two well-to-do 3OGGERS, out for a lunchtime
     run, making their way down the street towards the cafe.  Truman
     happens to glance at the sneakers of one of the joggers.  He
     springs to his feet and blocks the joggers' path.

                           CHRISTOF
                      (staring at the monitor)
              Damn!

     Unseen by Christof, his Assistant Director, Simeon takes a
     moment of pleasure from the older man's distress.


     EXT.  STREETSIDE CAFE, LITTLE ITALY.  DAY.

                           TRUMAN
                      (to the jogger with
                      the familiar sneakers)
              Small world.

                           JOGGER 1
                      (attempting to sidestep Truman)
              Excuse me.

     Truman blocks the man a second time.

                           TRUMAN
              You don't remember?  Two days ago I gave you
              my meatball sandwich in the park.  You were
              in a wheelchair.  Same sneakers.

     An almost subliminal flashback appears in Truman's head
     confirming that the JOGGER and the HOMELESS MAN in the
     wheelchair two days earlier are one and the same.

                           TRUMAN
                      (commenting ironically on his
                      new-found mobility)
              A miracle!

                           JOGGER 2
                      (coming to his companion's aid)
              Get the hell outta here.

     The second jogger pushes Truman back against the cafe table
     causing him to stumble.


     EXT.  WAREHOUSE - MARLON'S WORK.  DAY.

     MARLON is loading boxes of candy into the back of his van.
     TRUMAN hurries up to him.

                           TRUMAN
              Marlon. I've gotta talk to you.

                           MARLON
                      (surprised)
              Truman!  Sorry, I'm up against it today.

                           TRUMAN
              I've fallen over something, Marlon.
              Something to do with my Dad. I think.

                           MARLON
                      (looking at him for the first time)
              Are you okay? You look like shit.

                           TRUMAN
                      (ignoring the inquiries
                      about his health)
              It's big, Marlon.  You wouldn't believe
              who's in on it.

                           MARLON
                      (distracted)
              In on what?

                           TRUMAN
              There's no point trying to show you, they cover
              their tracks too well.  But I've been going
              into a lotta strange buildings, seeing a lotta
              familiar faces, y'know what I mean?

                           MARLON
                      (still engrossed in his own problems)
              Something's definitely in the air.  My last
              delivery, a kid got crushed to death.
              tilting a vending machine.  They won't even
              let me take the rest of the day off.

                           TRUMAN
              Do it, anyway.

     Marlon scoffs at the suggestion then realizes Truman isn't
     joking.

                           TRUMAN
              I'm deadly serious. Marlon.  We can't talk
              here.  I'm being followed.

                           MARLON
                      (suddenly concerned)
              Who?

                           TRUMAN
              I don't know.  They look just like regular
              people.
                      (producing a notebook from
                      his jacket pocket)
              But I've been writing down numbers - license
              plates, taxi numbers, ID numbers - the same
              ones keep cropping up over and over.

                           MARLON
              Is someone leanin' on you, Tru?  Cos I got
              some friends here, they owe me.  We can lean back.
                      (pointing out a taxi
                      parked outside the yard)
              Is he one of them?

                           TRUMAN
                      (anxious)
              I don't know.  Could be.  One thing's certain.
              The key is spontoneity.  Be unpredictable.
              They can't stand that.  That's why we've got
              to get outta here.  Can you come with me?

                           MARLON
                      (weakening)
              Christ, Truman.  You're gonna get both our
              asses fired.

     Marlon shuts his van and gets in.  Truman enters the
     passenger side.

                           MARLON
              Where're we going?

                           TRUMAN
              The beach.


     INT.  CONFERENCE ROOM.  DAY.

     CHRISTOF is in deep conversation with two executives.  MOSES, a
     contemporary of Christof but more jaded and debauched-looking
     and ROMAN, a fresh-faced, younger man.  CHLOE hovers in the
     background.  A monitor, suspended from the ceiling shows a
     surveillance shot of TRUMAN and MARLON pulling into a beach
     parking lot in Marlon's van.

     The glass conference room looks out onto the vast control
     facility where SIMEON continues to call the shots, all too aware
     of the closed-door discussion taking place in the background.

                           CHRISTOF
                      (marveling, excitedly referring
                      to Truman on the monitor)
              I can't believe how much he's shoved down.  That he
              sensed the significance at aged seven and clung
              to it so fiercely.

     Roman paces, agitated, unimpressed.  Moses, mnore respectful.

                           CHRISTOF
                      (gesturing to the clifftop on the
                      monitor pointedly excluding Roman
                      from the conversation)
              You remember, Moses, it used to end right
              there, before the expansion.

                           ROMAN
                      (unable to contain his anxiety
                      any longer)
              Christof, the cracks are starting to show.

                           CHRISTOF
                      (reassuring, keeping
                      himself in check)
              I'll paper over them.

                           CHLOE
                      (coming to the defense of her mentor)
              Truman's had bouts of paranoia before and
              recovered.

                           ROMAN
                      (adamant, faintly hysterical)
              No, not like this.  It's compromised.
              Becoming unwatchable.

     Too much for Christof.  He wheels on the young man.

                           CHRISTOF
              Fear?  Doubt?  Is that what you have
              trouble watching?  Perhaps you don't like
              watching yourself.

     Roman is stung into silence.

                           MOSES
                      (realizing his colleague is in
                      over his head, including Chloe
                      to save Roman's face)
              Why don't you two wait outside?

     Reluctantly Roman and Chloe exit and join Simeon at the video
     wall.

                           CHRISTOF
                      (instantly more comfortable in the
                      company of a man his own age)
              He's jumped the rails, Moses, that's all.  We'll
              get him back on.

                           MOSES
              You know why they're so nervous.  The birth of
              Truman's child is going to double revenue.
              For God's sake don't let him upstage you.
                      (indicating Simeon through
                      the glass walls)
              You've been grooming a successor.

                           CHRISTOF
              He's not ready.

                           MOSES
              Him or you?

                           CHRISTOF
                      (jaw setting firm, referring
                      to Truman on the monitor)
              You can't pull him back in without me.
                      (more reflective)
              He's just acting out of character.

                           MOSES
              What if he's in character?  What if he's
              starting to act in character at last?  Have
              you ever considered that?


     EXT.  LONG ISLAND BEACH.  DAY.

     TRUMAN runs down the beach towards the cliff he attempted to
     scale as a seven-year-old boy.


     EXT.  CLIFFTOP.  DAY.

     TRUMAN sits on the clifftop, staring out at the view his father
     had been so desperate for him not to see twenty-seven years
     earlier.  However the deserted bay beyond is exactly as his
     father described - almost identical to its neighbor.  MARLON,
     laboring, crests the rise and joins his friend on the clifftop.

                           MARLON
              What're we doing here, Truman?

                           TRUMAN
              This is where it started.

                           MARLON
              Where what started?

                           TRUMAN
              Things.  Things that don't fit.  Loose threads.
              False steps.  Slips of the tongue.

                           MARLON
                      (irritated)
              Make sense, Truman.  You going religious on me?

                           TRUMAN
                      (tears of bitterness welling in his eyes)
              My father didn't want me to see what was over here.
              Whatever it was, it's gone now.  I never shoulda
              listened to him that day.  I knew it was wrong.

     We see a quick flashback of SEVEN-YEAR-OLD TRUMAN on the cliff-
     face twenty-seven years earlier.

                           TRUMAN
              There were a hundred people on the beach that
              day.  Everybody knew what was going on except me.

                           MARLON
              I don't want to put you down but why would
              anybody go to all this trouble over you?

                           TRUMAN
              Maybe I've been mistaken for somebody else.
                      (a memory triggered)
              A couple of years ago, I tried to get hold of a
              copy of Time Magazine.  The week before an ad said,
              "Next Week:  Truman Burbank and the Lost Generation".

     Marlon shrugs, unimpressed.

                           TRUMAN
              A guy with the same name as me in Time
              Magazine.  It ain't a common name so I
              looked out for it.  But the day it came
              out, every newstand was sold out.  No
              library had it.  I even wrote off for a
              back-issue.  Never seen a copy to this day.

     Marlon remains unconvinced.

                           TRUMAN
              Maybe I'm being set up for something.  You
              ever feel like that, Marlon?  Like your
              whole life has been building to something?

     Marlon looks skeptically at Truman.  He hasn't had that feeling.

                           MARLON
                      (becoming testy)
              A coincidence.  Haven't you ever heard
              of a coincidence?

                           TRUMAN
              I'm a walking coincidence.  I can't count 'em.
              No something's happening, Marlon.  I've got
              to get to the bottom of it.

                           MARLON
                      (shaking his head in exasperation)
              Of what?!  Why're you doing this to yourself?

                           TRUMAN
              I'm scared, Marlon.  I'm as scared as hell.
              But I've never felt more alive.  It's just
              like she said.

                           MARLON
                      (suddenly intrigued)
              Who?

                           TRUMAN
              It doesn't matter.  She was too beautiful for here.

     Now Marlon is really confused.

                           TRUMAN
              Can you lend me some money?  A hundred bucks.

                           MARLON
              All I got on me is the takings from the machines.
              Why do you need it?

                           TRUMAN
              I'm going away for a while.


     INT.  SYLVIA'S BEACH HOUSE.  DUSK.

     The comfortably furnished room of a writer.  Walls lined with
     books.  Desk overlooking the sea, strewn with notes, photos and
     other reference material.  Sylvia's name on the spine of several
     published volumes.  Pages of unfinished manuscript, handwritten
     in blue ink.

     SYLVIA stands at a bookcase, looking for inspiration.  As she
     pulls out a book, a magazine falls to the floor.  Truman's
     missing copy of Time Magazine.  His face on the cover with the
     headline,  "Truman Burbank and the Lost Generation".

     Sylvia retrieves the magazine.  In front of a nearby mirror, she
     holds Truman's photographed face next to her own, for a moment
     imagining them together.  Then, catching herself, she quickly
     lowers the magazine, left alone with her own reflection.


     INT.  TRUMAN'S HOUSE.  NIGHT.

     We see TRUMAN's disturbed face reflected in the screen of his
     television set, montaged over that of ROBIN LEACH, host of
     "Lifestyles Of The Rich And Famous".  MERYL, wearing her robe,
     head against Truman's chest, sips from a bottle of beer.

                           MERYL
                      (attempting to open him up)
              What's going on, Truman?  You're not yourself.

                           TRUMAN
                      (vague)
              Maybe you just don't know me very well.


     INT.  DINING ROOM SOMEWHERE.  NIGHT.

     CHRISTOF eats a sumptuous meal in an ornate private dining
     room with an elegant WOMAN, thirty years his junior.  Playing
     silently on a monitor on an antique side table is a surveillance
     shot of TRUMAN and MERYL slumped in front of their television.

     CHLOE, enters the room and nods an apology to Christof's dinner
     companion - a woman her own age.  Christof's companion shrugs
     resignedly.  Christof registers Chloe's thinly disguised
     resentment, enjoying the rivalry.

     Chloe inserts a cassette tape into a nearby VCR.  Christof
     wipes his mouth with his napkin and picks up his wine glass as
     he gives the television his full attention.  A commercial for
     "GLOBAL TRAVEL" begins to play.


     INT.  TRUMAN'S HOUSE.  NIGHT.

     TRUMAN continues to watch "Lifestyles" restlessly.  However, as
     he goes to get up from the sofa, MERYL starts to slide down his
     chest towards his lap.

                           MERYL
              We could do it right here, like we used to.

     The program cuts to a commercial break.  The commercial
     is for "Global Travel".

                           NARRATOR
                      (from television)
              Travelling Down Under?  Global Travel is
              turning rates to Australia upside down.  Round
              Trip to Sydney only $829.  One way, $465.
              Global Travel at Broadway and 44th...

     Truman perks up at the commercial while Meryl's attention is
     elsewhere.

                           TRUMAN
                      (abruptly getting up)
              Lemme go to the bathroom.

                           MERYL
              Don't be too long.

     Truman exits the living room.  However, on his way to the
     bathroom he hesitates at the kitchen table.  He surreptitiously
     lifts the platic-coated plaid tablecloth to reveal numerous
     bills laid out flat beneath it to keep the stash hidden.


     INT.  CHRISTOF'S BEDROOM.  DAWN.

     CHLOE pulls back long, white silk drapes to reveal a spectacular
     view overlooking the Hollywood Hills.  CHRISTOF rouses from his
     enormous round bed.  His DINNER COMPANION also stirs, waving
     coyly to Chloe as she modestly covers herself, only mildly
     perturbed by the intrusion.  Chloe switches on the television
     set in the extravagent bedroom.  Playing on the set are TRUMAN
     and MERYL still fast asleep in their own bed.

                           CHRISTOF
              What happened overnight?

                           CHLOE
              He couldn't do it, even on the sofa.

                           CHRISTOF
                      (smiling to himself)
              God, that thing of his must be psychic.
                      (matter-of-fact)
              He didn't masturbate?

                           CHLOE
              Not for the last two inonths.

     Chloe exits and Christof climbs out of bed.


     INT.  TRUMAN'S HOUSE.  MORNING.

     MERYL emerges from the bathroom, ready for work, surprised to
     find TRUMAN sitting at the kitchen table.

                           MERYL
                      (rubbing ointment into her wrists)
              Aren't you gonna be late?

                           TRUMAN
              I got a call in the area.
                      (nodding to her wrists)
              What's the case?  Anything interesting?

                           MERYL
                      (dispassionate)
              Rape on the subway.

     Truman's eyes widen.  We see a quick flashback in Truman's head
     of the two YOUTHS assaulting the WOMAN on his train.

                           MERYL
              They're guilty as hell but they'll walk.  No
              witnesses.  Her word against theirs.
                      (picking up her bag to leave)
              Maybe we could meet for lunch today.

     Meryl gives him an affectionate kiss and exits the back door.
     Truman waits for the sound of Meryl's car to disappear down the
     road and exits himself.


     INT.  COURT BUILDING.  MORNING.

     TRUMAN enters the courtroom building.  A crush of DEFENDENTS,
     FAMILIES, ATTORNEYS and POLICE OFFICERS.  Truman goes to enter
     a courtroom but a SECURITY GUARD blocks his path.

                           SECURITY GUARD
              You a witness?

                           TRUMAN
              Er, yes...
                      (suddenly losing heart)
              No, no I'm not.

                           SECURITY GUARD
              Closed session.

     Before the guard can move him on. Truman sneaks a look at
     proceedings through the courtroom door window.

     He recognizes the two YOUTHS sitting at the defendent's table.
     A PROSECUTOR is on his feet, addressing the JURY.  MERYL is
     working attentively at her stenotype machine, her fingers
     rapidly pressing the keys.  However, Truman notices a glaring
     omission.  There is no paper emerging from Meryl's machine.  The
     roll of paper tape sits on the floor beside her chair leg.
         

     INT.  TRAVEL AGENCY.  DAY.

     The EMPLOYEES and CUSTOMERS inside GLOBAL TRAVEL are all doing
     a last-minute primp, fixing their hair and checking their
     clothes.  Suddenly, in unison, they take their positions and
     begin working.  As TRUMAN enters GLOBAL TRAVEL, one CUSTOMER
     looks up a fraction too quickly, anticipating his arrival.

     Truman takes a seat at the only unoccupied desk, opposite a
     female TRAVEL AGENT.  Feeling uneasy about a surveillance camera
     in the corner of the room, he nervously obscures his face with
     his hand.

                           TRUMAN
              I wanna book a flight to Australia.

                           AGENT
              Where exactly?

                           TRUMAN
                      (believing she is being
                      deliberately obtuse)
              Australia.

                           AGENT
                      (a trace of condescension)
              Where in Australia?  What city?

                           TRUMAN
              Sorry, Sydney.  Sydney, Australia.  That's right.

                           AGENT
                      (entering the destination in her
                      computer)
              For how many?

                           TRUMAN
                      (finding the question suspicious)
              One.

                           AGENT
              When do you want to leave, remembering, of
              course, that you do lose a day on the way there?

                           TRUMAN
                      (more urgent than he intended)
              Today.

                           AGENT
                      (reading off her computer screen)
              I'm sorry.  I don't have anything for a
              week.

                           TRUMAN
                      (suspicious)
              A week.

                           AGENT
                      (patiently explaining)
              It's the busy season.

                           TRUMAN
                      (paranoia showing)
              You sure you're not trying to keep me here?
              You are a travel agent, aren't you?  Your
              job is to help people travel, not keep 'em
              where they are.
                      (pointing to the agent's
                      name tag, "DORIS - Travel Agent")
              Or maybe you're a different kind of agent, Doris?

                           AGENT
                      (showing amazing restraint)
              I do have a fabulous rate on a cruise ship
              departing for Australia tomorrow.  But you
              wouldn't want to do that.

                           TRUMAN
              Why wouldn't I?

                           AGENT
              I thought you were in a hurry.

                           TRUMAN
                      (calming down)
              That's right.

                           AGENT
              You want to book the flight?

     Truman pulls out a wad of money from his pocket and several
     rolls of quarters from Marlon's vending machines.  The agent
     looks askance at the pile of cash.

                           TRUMAN
              You were expecting me, weren't you?

     The travel agent ignores the question and prints the ticket.

                           AGENT
              It's non-refundable.


     EXT.  SYDNEY, AUSTRALIA.  DAY.

     CHRISTOF stands with a PRODUCTION MANAGER, mid-thirties, on the
     forecourt of the Sydney Opera House, its sail-like roofs soaring
     above them.  Framing the background, the coathanger-shaped
     Sydney Harbor Bridge.

                           PROD. MANAGER
                      (unable to conceal his pride)
              Happy?

     Christof gives a grudgingly complimentary nod.

                           CHRISTOF
                      (staring out at the pleasure
                      craft littering the harbor)
              Can we contain him long enough?

                           PROD. MANAGER
              I think so.

     Christof looks skyward at the cottonwool clouds above the
     harbor.

                           PROD. MANAGER
                      (anticipating his next question)
              He flies at night.  Thick cloud cover to
              disorient him.  Hopefully we'll knock him
              out with complimentary cocktails, pull the
              shades down during the movies.  He'll never know.

     Christof gives another grudging nod of approval.  The Production
     Manager is beckoned by a group of CONSTRUCTION WORKERS who are
     putting the finishing touches to a corner of the Opera House.
     CHLOE drifts to Christof's side, a Watchman TV in her hand.

                           CHLOE
                      (referring to the surrounding scene)
              Why go to all the trouble?

     Christof glances at the TV screen in her hand, showing TRUMAN
     sitting in his office gazing at his composite picture of SYLVIA.

                           CHRISTOF
              He believes she has the answer.

                           CHLOE
              Why not just tell him she's dead?

                           CHRISTOF
              It's too late for that.  That won't satisfy
              him.  He's going to have to find out for himself.
              See it with his own eyes.  Right now he needs
              something genuine.
                      (rueful, all too aware
                      of the contradiction)
              Even if we have to fake it.


     INT.  INSURANCE COMPANY.  DAY.

     Close up on typewriting appearing on a page.

              "Please accept my resignation from
              American Life & Accident, Inc. to
              take effect immediately.

              Yours tru"

     TRUMAN gets up from the typewriter in mid-word and strolls to a
     fellow AGENT's desk.

                           TRUMAN
                      (to agent, picking up
                      a dictionary)
              "Yours truly..."  You spell "truly"
              "l...y" or "e...l...y"?

                           INSURANCE AGENT
              I always write "Yours faithfully..."

     Truman finds the appropriate page in the dictionary and gazes at
     the entry for a long moment.  He looks up, staring into the
     middle distance.  His eyes widen as something clicks in his
     mind.  Suddenly LAWRENCE snatches the dictionary from his hand.

                           LAWRENCE
              Where the hell have you been, Burbank?
              What the hell's going on?

                           TRUMAN
              That's what I'd like to know, Lawrence.

     The AGENTS in the other cubicles turn in their direction.

                           TRUMAN
              I was just about to resign.  Isn't that
              a laugh?  I just realized there's nothing
              to resign from, is there?

                           LAWRENCE
              Listen, don't bother with the resignation.
              Just get the fuck outta here.

                           TRUMAN
                      (addressing the whole office)
              Why're you all pretending?  Huh?
                      (gesturing to a computer terminal)
              What is this a front for?  Why aren't I in
              on the joke?  Was I away that day?!

     Noting two colleagues exchanging a look, he pulls the computer
     off the desk to get their attention.  It lands on the floor with
     an expensive crash.

                           TRUMAN
                      (hysterical)
              I'm talking to you!  Who am I?!

                           LAWRENCE
                      (taken aback by the sudden violent act)
              You better get outta here or I'm calling Security.

                           TRUMAN
                      (mimicking)
              "Security!  I'm calling Security".

     Truman picks up the framed photograph from his desk, containing
     SYLVIA's hidden likeness.  Suddenly he wheels on Lawrence,
     pinning him to a cubicle wall.

                           TRUMAN
              You don't believe a single word you're saying!
                      (to the assembled group)
              None of you do!
                      (suddenly talking to a sprinkler
                      head in the ceiling)
              You hear me?!

     We see Truman's manic face from the sprinkler head's POV.
     Truman stomps off down the corridor, other Insurance Agents
     giving him a wide berth.  He shoves computers, desk lamps and
     pot holders off desks as he goes.


     EXT.  MANHATTAN STREET.  DAY.

     TRUMAN steps out of the office, suddenly able to breathe
     again, pleased to be outdoors despite the gloomy sky overhead.


     INT.  CONTROL ROOM SOMEWHERE.  DAY.

     CHRISTOF is once again standing at the picture window in the
     dimly-lit control room where we first encountered him.  Behind
     him, the fronds of the palm tree sway in a gentle breeze.  The
     sky, a cloudless, cobalt blue in sharp contrast to the overcast
     day in New York City.

     SIMEON, co-ordinating camera angles, sits in front of the
     largest of the monitors that shows a live picture of TRUMAN
     stuck in his car in gridlock.

                           SIMEON
                      (talking quietly into a
                      slim headset)
              ...and back to the close-up...

     CHLOE's attention is focused on a subsidiary monitor displaying
     a freeze frame of TRUMAN reading the dictionary a few minutes
     earlier.

                           CHLOE
                      (to a hard-bitten Operator, staring
                      at the dictionary)
              Do you think he sees the entry?

                           OPERATOR
              Hard to tell.

                           CHRISTOF
                      (sarcastic)
              Why don't we ask him?

                           CHLOE
                      (snapping back, referring to the book)
              I don't know how it got there!
                      (to Operator)
              Enhance.

     Christof turns his back on the screen and stares out the window.
     We focus on an enhanced picture of the dictionary's text.

               genuinely, etc.  2. in fact; really.

              Truman╦sque (sk)a. characteristic
               of the experiences of Truman Burbank
               (a Trumanesque town, conversation,
               etc.) [circa. 1972)
         
              trump,n. [<triumph], 1. playing-


     EXT.  SUBURBAN STREET IN QUEENS.  DAY.

     TRUMAN drives erratically down a quiet suburban street.
     On the sidewalk up ahead, he spies a YOUNG MOTHER pushing an
     INFANT in a baby carriage.

     Truman suddenly swerves sharply and jumps the curb in front
     of the mother and child, the car straddling the sidewalk.  He
     has the driver's door open almost before the Oldsmobile has come
     to a halt.  Truman dashes from the car and plucks the infant
     from the carriage while the mother stands rooted to the spot.

     The startled infant immediately begins to wail as Truman holds
     the crying bundle in both hands above his head.

                           TRUMAN
                      (to the Mother, motioning to the sidewalk)
              Say my name or I'll smash its head open.

     The young mother, frozen with fright, does not reply.

                           TRUMAN
                      (vehement)
              Say my name!

                           YOUNG MOTHER
                      (composing herself,
                      reaching out for her child)
              Please, give him to me...

                           TRUMAN
                      (screaming above the baby's cries)
              Say my name!  You know my name!  Say it!

                           YOUNG MOTHER
                      (bewildered)
              I don't know you.

     The commotion has attracted the attention of an OLD MAN across
     the street, watering his garden.  He drops his hose and hurries
     towards the fracas.  Halfway across the street, the old man
     stops in his tracks as he sees the baby, perilously poised in
     the air.

                           TRUMAN
                      (hysterical)
              I mean it!  I'm ready to do it!
              What's my name?!!

     Truman lifts the screaming baby as far above his head as he can,
     his arms shaking, fighting the urge to dash the fragile innocent
     to the concrete.  We see a view of the scene from the POV of a
     streetlight.  The young mother, recognizing Truman's
     seriousness, opens her mouth to speak but no sound comes.

                           TRUMAN
                      (entreating the young
                      woman, tears in his eyes)
              This is your last chance!

     The anguish in his voice convinces us that Truman is truly on
     the brink.  The young woman now has tears rolling down her
     cheeks.  She is at a loss, powerless.

                           TRUMAN
                      (his entire body shaking)
              What...is...my...name?!

     The young woman mumbles but is unable to supply the name.
     Truman, arms shaking, face red with rage, realizes he can't go
     through with it.  With everything he has, he gathers himself.
     After what seems like an age, he ever so slowly lowers the
     child into the safety of the mother's outstretched arms.

                           YOUNG MOTHER
                      (clutching the baby to
                      her breast, without thinking)
              Thank you, Truman.

     Truman shudders at the sound of his name and backs away from the
     young woman, as if it is she who now represents the threat.

     He jumps into his car and slams it into gear, driving over the
     sidewalk and back onto the street.  The young woman and the old
     man stare after Truman's car as it roars away.


     INT.  TRUMAN'S CAR.  DAY.

     As TRUMAN drives, he stares, paranoid, at seemingly innocuous
     features in his Oldsmobile - his rearview mirror, steering wheel
     insignia, speedometer, airconditioning ducts - and peers up at
     the streetlamps lining the roadway.


     INT.  SYLVIA'S BEACH HOUSE.  DAY.

     A dozen-or-so of SYLVIA'S FRIENDS, including the MAN we have
     seen before, sit around a table on the balcony in the afternoon
     sun, talking animatedly.  A TEN-YEAR-OLD SON of one of the
     guests has strayed into the living room and switched on the
     television set hidden away in an antique bureau.

     SYLVIA. emerging from the kitchen, is taken aback by what she
     sees playing on the screen.  The MAN on the balcony catches
     her look as she swiftly switches off the TV.  She gently takes
     the child's hand and leads him outside.


     EXT.  TRUMAN'S BACKYARD.  DAY.

     TRUMAN, staring at the freeway from the bottom of the garden.
     doesn't bother to look up as MERYL approaches.

                           TRUMAN
                      (referring to a distant
                      car on the expressway)
              See that car way down there?  I bet it's a
              Suburu station wagon.

     Meryl looks idly over the fence at the approaching car.
     Finally a Suburu station wagon motors by.  Meryl is unimpressed.
     Truman turns his back on the Expressway to continue his game.

                           TRUMAN
              I predict the next four cars will be a
              white Honda Civic, a blue and white
              Dodge Dart with the front hubcap missing,
              a Volkswagon Beetle with a dented fender
              and a motorcycle.

     Meryl doesn't wish to participate in the game and makes for
     the house.  Truman holds her arm, forcing her to watch.  He
     turns to check his prediction.  A convoy of cars approaches.

                           TRUMAN
              There's the Honda...the Dodge...here
              comes the dented Beetle...

     Meryl's attention wavers.  Truman tightens his grip.

                           TRUMAN
              Look, damn you!

     Following the VW is a school bus.

                           MERYL
                      (mocking)
              Where's the motorcycle?

     Truman is momentarily disappointed.  Meryl seizes her chance
     and heads for the house.  Truman follows her inside.

                           TRUMAN
                      (yelling after her)
              Don't you want to know how I did that?
              Maybe you already know.  Is that it?

     Behind Truman's back, a motorcycle putters by.


     INT.  TRUMAN'S HOUSE - KITCHEN.  DAY.

     MERYL is pouring herself ice tea when TRUMAN enters.

                           MERYL
              Where have you been?  I've been calling you
              all day.

                           TRUMAN
              Have you been concerned, Meryl?  Nice name.
              "Meryl".  I always liked it.

                           MERYL
                      (matching his sarcasm)
              Nice of you to say so after eight years.

                           TRUMAN
              Actress's name, isn't it?  What's your
              real name?

                           MERYL
                      (rolling her eyes)
              Oh, God.  What's got into you?

                           TRUMAN
              Take a break. Meryl
                      (a knowing, almost foolish grin)
              I know.

                           MERYL
              I invited Marlon and Rita for a barbeque Sunday.
              I thought I'd make my potato salad.  Remind me...

                           TRUMAN
                      (irritated)
              Drop it, I said.  It's over.

                           MERYL
                      (rambling on)
              ...we need more charcoal.

                           TRUMAN
              Shut up!

                           MERYL
              I'm gonna take a shower.

                           TRUMAN
                      (catching her wrist)
              No.  We're going for a drive.

                           MERYL
              What?!

     Despite her protests, Truman drags Meryl out the back door
     and towards his car.

                           TRUMAN
                      (as he shoves her into
                      the Oldsmobile)
              For years I've been saying I want to go
              some place, well now I'm ready to go.  Let's
              just jump in the car and go.


     INT.  TRUMAN'S CAR.  DAY.

     TRUMAN holds MERYL's wrist to stop her exiting the car and
     accelerates out of the driveway in reverse without looking.

                           TRUMAN
                      (as they speed down the suburban street)
              I thought maybe, Atlantic City.

                           MERYL
                      (trying to mask her anxiety)
              You hate gambling.

                           TRUMAN
              That's right.  I do, don't I?

                           MERYL
              So why do you wanna go?

                           TRUMAN
              Cos I never have.  That's why you go places,
              isn't it?  Cos you're curious.  I haven't
              been curious since I was seven years old,
              y'know that?  Back then you'd have to nail me
              to the floor to keep me in one place.


     INT.  CONTROL ROOM.  DAY.

     All eyes watch the large monitor as surveillance cameras track
     Truman's speeding car.

                           CHRISTOF
              How long to take Atlantic City out of
              mothballs?

                           SIMEON
              We could be up and running...three hours maybe.

                           CHRISTOF
              Give me a number five gridlock on the
              Jersey Turnpike.


     INT.  TRUMAN'S CAR.  DUSK.

     TRUMAN and MERYL are hemmed in by a traffic snarl on the New
     Jersey Turnpike.  We observe the Oldsmobile on a television
     lens from the POV of a tail-light on the car ahead.

                           TRUMAN
                      (a manic edge to his voice)
              So much traffic, this time of day.  Does
              that strike you as peculiar?

     On the side of the road, TWO MOTORISTS, are arguing over a
     minor collision.

                           TRUMAN
                      (sneering at the sight of
                      the motorists)
              Look at them.  You believe they're
              fighting?  I don't believe it.
                      (shouting out the window
                      to the motorists)
              Why don't you slug him, really make it authentic?

     Without warning, Truman suddenly exits the freeway.  But
     his move is anticipated.  At the end of the offramp a pack of
     cars suddenly appears.  Other vehicles fill the gap behind.

                           TRUMAN
                      (to Meryl, marveling)
              Blocked at every turn.  Beautifully
              synchronized, don't you agree?

                           MERYL
                      (incredulous)
              You blaming me for the traffic?

                           TRUMAN
              Should I?

                           MERYL
              You've never been on this road before.
              You don't know what it's like.

                           TRUMAN
                      (manic)
              That's true.  We could be stuck here
              for hours.  Could be like this all the
              way to Atlantic City.

     Truman suddenly veers the Oldsmobile onto the sidewalk.

                           MERYL
              What the hell are you doing?

                           TRUMAN
              You're right.  Let's go back.  I'm
              sorry.  I don't know what got into me.

     Truman rejoins the New Jersey Turnpike, heading back towards
     Queens, the roadway now relatively free of traffic.

                           MERYL
              Would you please slow down, Truman?

     Truman floors the Oldsmobile.  The car flies past the exit for
     Route 276.  He continues along the Jersey Turnpike.

                           MERYL
              Truman, that was the turnoff!

                           TRUMAN
              I've changed my mind again.  What's Maine
              like this time of year?! I've never been to
              Maine.
                      (Truman looks up through the
                      windshield at a helicopter
                      tracking his progress)
              Or let's just see where the road takes us.

                           MERYL
                      (pleading)
              Let me out, Truman.  You're not right in the head.
              You wanna destroy yourself, you do it on your own!

                           TRUMAN
                      (eerily calm)
              I think I'd like a little company.


     INT.  CONTROL ROOM.  DUSK.

     CHRISTOF, CHLOE, SIMEON and the other OPERATORS follow Truman's
     progress from a helicopter shot - the Oldsmobile optically
     circled to ease identification.  Christof jabs his finger at the
     rapidly thinning traffic surrounding Truman's vehicle.

                           CHRISTOF
                      (to Simeon)
              What the hell is wrong with the "carousel"?
              Keep them together.

                           SIMEON
                      (agitated)
              They're rusty.  We can't keep up.
                      (rueful aside)
              We don't know where he's going any more.

                           CHLOE
              Oncoming is very thin.


     INT.  TRUMAN'S CAR.  DUSK.

     As he speeds erratically, TRUMAN glances at the streets either
     side of the freeway, where he discovers a distinct lack of
     moving traffic.

                           TRUMAN
                      (to the anxious Meryl at his side)
              Look down there, Meryl!...No cars!  I don't
              run into traffic.  The traffic follows me around.
                      (excited by his discovery)
              We're in a moving pack, don't you see?

     Truman abruptly exits the rapidly emptying freeway.


     INT.  CONTROL ROOM.  DUSK.

                           CHRISTOF
                      (enthusing)
              He's so close!  It's tantilizing!

                           CHLOE
              You want to pull him over?

                           CHRISTOF
              No police.  Not yet.  We shadow him.
              We don't want him to panic.

                           CHLOE
              He's trying to outrun the traffic.

                           CHRISTOF
              He's trying to outrun the world.  Keep him
              on this route.
                      (to Simeon who is consulting
                      someone on his headset)
              Are we ready?

     Simeon nods.  Executives, MOSES and ROMAN have entered the
     control room.  They hover nervously in the background.


     INT.  TRUMAN'S CAR, WESTCHESTER.  DUSK.

     TRUMAN is forced to slow once again behind a line of other cars
     at a police roadblock.  At the head of the line, the cars are
     being turned around by POLICE OFFICERS, who are also contending
     with a swarm of NEWS REPORTERS and TELEVISION CREWS.

                           TRUMAN
                      (to Meryl)
              It's hard to go places, isn't it?

                           MERYL
              There's been an accident, Truman.  We
              have to go back.

                           TRUMAN
              No.  There's no accident.  It'S just more stalling.

     Truman slows beside a POLICE OFFICER.

                           TRUMAN
              What's going on?

                           OFFICER
                      (grim-faced, indicating the nearby
                      Indian Point nuclear power plant)
              Leak at the plant.  They had to shut her down.

                           TRUMAN
              Is there any way around?

                           OFFICER
              The whole area's being evacuated.  A precaution.

     Truman falls in line behind the cars making a U-turn when, all
     of a sudden, he guns his car and swerves past the barricade.


     EXT.  SYLVIA'S BEACH HOUSE.  DUSK.

     In the twilight sun, SYLVIA'S GUESTS wander up the gravel path,
     leading away from the beach house, the younger children carried
     in their parents' arms.  Hanging back from the rest of the
     group, Sylvia's admirer, wheeling his bicycle, turns back
     to the house.  As the MAN is about to lean his bicycle against
     the side of the beach house, he looks in a window.

     Lit by a blue-glow, SYLVIA sits transfixed by the television
     playing in her antique bureau, the screen obscured from our
     view.  She is unaware of the man's face at the window.

     Recognizing what is playing on the screen, the man regards
     Sylvia with a resigned smile.  He mounts the bicycle and rides
     back up the path.


     EXT.  NUCLEAR POWER PLANT.  DUSK.

     Truman's car slides to a stop, blocked by Hazardous Waste
     vehicles straddling the roadway leading up to the power plant,
     the pursuing police car blocking his retreat.  TRUMAN flees the
     car, leaving MERYL in the passenger seat.

                           MERYL
              Truman!!  Come back!!

     Truman bursts past the alien-looking HAZARDOUS WASTE WORKERS in
     their protective suits carrying detection instruments.  The
     workers give chase in their cumbersome suits, trying to cut off
     his path to the power plant.  As he crests a slight rise beyond
     the plant, he is finally tackled to the ground.  However,
     peering through the long grass, Truman is able to make out the
     lights of a cityscape in the distance.


     INT.  CONTROL ROOM.  DUSK.

     CHRISTOF, a trace of panic in his eyes, turning to CHLOE.

                           CHRISTOF
              Did he see it?

                           CHLOE
              I don't think so.

     The reason for Christof's concern becomes all too apparent as
     the helicopter passes over the power plant, where the struggling
     TRUMAN is being escorted away.  We see an aerial shot from the
     helicopter as it emerges directly above the Sydney skyline.


     INT.  TRUMAN'S HOUSE - KITCHEN.  NIGHT.

     MERYL and TRUMAN sit at their kitchen table.  Truman stoic,
     tears rolling down Meryl's cheeks.  Truman's airline ticket
     torn to shreds on the table in front of them.

                           MERYL
              Let me get you some help, Truman.  You're
              not well.

                           TRUMAN
                      (ignoring her tears and medical advice)
              Why do you want to have a child with me?
              You can't stand me.

                           MERYL
              That's not true.

                           TRUMAN
                      (suddenly angry)
              Don't lie to me!

     Truman's raised voice backs Meryl to her feet.  Truman follows,
     getting in her face.

                           TRUMAN
              Tell me what's happening?!

                           MERYL
                      (frightened but remaining poised)
              I thought you knew everything.  What could
              I tell you?

                           TRUMAN
                      (backing her up against
                      the kitchen bench)
              You're part of this, aren't you?!

     Meryl grabs a kitchen knife from a wooden block to protect
     herself.

                           MERYL
              Truman, you're scaring me!

     Truman looks in her eyes and, with surprising swiftness,
     grabs her wrist and disarms her.

                           TRUMAN
              No, you're scaring me, Meryl!

     Truman grabs Meryl by the hair and turns the knife on her.
     While pressing the blade to Meryl's throat, Truman starts to
     march her around the room, talking to the walls, light
     fixtures, a mirror, doorknob, framed picture, blank television.

                           TRUMAN
              Stop this now or I kill your leading lady.
                      (to a lamp)
              I know you can hear me.


     INT.  CONTROL ROOM.  NIGHT.

     CHRISTOF and the OTHERS watch the monitors spellbound as TRUMAN
     looks directly into one camera lens after another.  ROMAN is the
     first to crack.

                           ROMAN
                      (entreating Christof)
              Get somebody in there!

                           CHRISTOF
                      (quiet but firm)
              No.

                           SIMEON
                      (siding with the executive,
                      showing his true colors)
              She's in trouble!  We've got to help her!

     Christof, never taking his eyes from the monitor, leans into
     the microphone.


     INT.  TRUMAN'S HOUSE - KITCHEN.  NIGHT.

     We see an extreme close up of MERYL's ear.  Unheard by TRUMAN,
     from her inner car, we hear a familiar voice.

                           CHRISTOF (O.C.)
              He's bluffing.  Call his bluff.

                           MERYL
                      (in reply to the voice in her
                      head, half-strangled due to the
                      pressure of the knife)
              Do something...

     Upon hearing her remark, Truman's eyes widen.  Sensing that she
     too is addressing a third person, he jerks her head around to
     read her face.

                           TRUMAN
                      (wild-eyed)
              Who are you talking to?!

                           MERYL
                      (incredulous)
              You're the one talking to the walls!

                           TRUMAN
              No.  You said, "Do something."  Who were you
              talking to?  I swear I'll kill you, if
              you don't tell me.

     Meryl takes the chance to spin out of his grasp and dashes to
     the bedroom but before she can barricade the door, Truman
     forces his way inside.  They both tumble onto the waterbed
     causing it to rock back and forth.  Gripping Meryl's hair,
     Truman throws aside the bed covers.

                           TRUMAN
                      (distraught, referring to the bed)
              How could you buy this damn thing when you
              know he drowned in front of me?!

     Truman raises the kitchen knife but instead of stabbing Meryl
     begins to slash viciously at the waterbed, opening a large gash.

                           TRUMAN
              You have any idea what it's like to drown?

     Truman drops the knife and forces Meryl's head into the gaping
     hole in the bed, submerging her head in the tepid water.  She
     thrashes her arms wildly trying to free herself.

     Truman reluctantly jerks her head back out of the water.

                           MERYL
                      (gasping for air)
              Truman, stop it!
                      (to the ceiling)
              Don't let him do it!

                           TRUMAN
                      (to a light fixture, threatening)
              I'll kill her!

     He dunks her head into the water a second time, holding her
     head down longer this time.  She continues to struggle.

     Suddenly, the front door chimes.  Startled, Truman lets Meryl up
     for air.

                           TRUMAN
                      (sneering at Meryl)
              Right on time.  Cops must be telepathic.

     Meryl spots the kitchen knife within her reach but Truman beats
     her to it.  Grabbing the knife by the blade, he slices his hand.

                           TRUMAN
                      (wincing in pain)
              Damn!

     At knifepoint, Truman marches Meryl down the hallway to the
     front door.  The doorbell chimes a second and third time, more
     insistently.

                           TRUMAN
                      (shouting through the closed door)
              Stay where you are or I'll kill her!

                           MARLON (O.C.)
              Truman?  It's me, Marlon.

     Truman flinches.  He was so convinced it would be the police.
     He takes a step back against the hallway wall.  Before he can
     decide what to do, Marlon has opened the unlocked front door
     to be confronted with the sight of Truman holding the knife to
     Meryl's throat, blood streaming from his own wound.

     Marlon locks eyes on Truman.  Sizing up the situation, he slowly
     but decisively removes the knife from Truman's hand.  Meryl
     wrenches herself free from Truman's now limp grasp, and
     collapses into Marlon's arms, sobbing.

                           MERYL
                      (distraught, dropping character,
                      forgetting herself)
              They were going to let him kill me!


     EXT.  ABANDONED FREEWAY.  NIGHT.

     MARLON and TRUMAN, both nursing bottles of beer, sit on the end
     of their abandoned freeway off-ramp.

                           TRUMAN
              People know who I am, my every move, complete
              strangers know my name.  Even when there's
              no one around, I feel the eyes on me.

                           MARLON
                      (reluctant admission)
              I was in the bank today.  The Federal on
              Lewis.  A clerk was talking about somebody
              named Truman messing with her baby.  Is that
              the stranger you're talking about?

     Truman closes his eyes as he takes in the explanation.

                           TRUMAN
                      (half to himself, refusing to accept it)
              No.  No.  I've never seen her before.
                      (registering Marlon's skepticism)
              I know you already think I'm going out
              of my mind but I genuinely believe the
              world revolves around me somehow.  Everybody
              seems to be in on it.

                           MARLON
              It's a lot of world for one man.  You sure
              that's not wishful thinking, you wishing
              you'd made something more of yourself?  Christ,
              Truman, who hasn't sat on the John and had
              an imaginary interview with Barbara Walters?
              Who hasn't wanted to be somebody?

                           TRUMAN
              That's just it.  I think I am somebody.

                           MARLON
                      (sympathetizing)
              I used to dream all my friends and family
              got together in a hotel room, thinking of
              ways to fuck me up.

                           TRUMAN
              Sometimes I think it's in my head, sometimes
              I think it's for real.

     Marlon looks around as if drawing inspiration from somewhere
     in the night.

                           MARLON
              Tru, we've known each other since before
              we could get a hard-on.

     Truman half-smiles at the ribald remark.

                           MARLON
              The only way we ever made it through
              high school was cheating off each other's
              test papers.  Jesus, they were identical.
              I always liked that, because whatever the
              answer was, we was right together and we
              was wrong together.

     Truman nods fondly at the memory.

                           MARLON
              The only night either of us ever spent
              in jail, we spent together and I wet
              myself but you never told anyone.
              I was best man at your wedding and my
              brother was best man at my wedding and
              you didn't talk to me for a month over
              that and I didn't blame you because you've
              been more of a brother to me than he's
              ever been.  And I never shoulda let
              my Goddam father talk me into that.

     Truman is slowly coming around.  Marlon's speech from the heart
     soothing away his pain.

                           MARLON
              I know things haven't worked out for
              either of us like we used to sit up on
              Freemont Street all night and dream they
              would.  We all let opportunities pass us
              by, none of us asks for the dance as
              often as we should.  I know that feeling
              when it's like everything's slipping away
              and you don't want to believe it so you
              look for answers someplace else.  But,
              well, the point is, I would gladly step
              in front of traffic for you.

     Truman grins a melancholy grin, nearly all the way back.  We see
     a close up of Marlon's ear.  From inside, unheard by Truman,
     CHRISTOF dictates Marlon's heartfelt speech.


     INT.  CONTROL ROOM.  NIGHT.

     CHRISTOF leans over a microphone at the mixing desk, feeding the
     lines to Marlon, immersed in the role.

                           CHRISTOF
                      (hushed tones)
              ...and the last thing I'd ever do is
              lie to you...

     Recognizing the importance of the moment, his colleagues stand
     around in awe at Christof's spontaneous performance, arguably
     superior to Marlon's own delivery.

                           MARLON
                      (staring into Truman's
                      eyes, repeating the
                      words in his ear)
              And the last thing I'd ever do is lie to you.
                      (pause)
              Think about it, Truman, if everybody's
              in on it, I'd have to be in on it too.
              I'm not in on it cos there is no it.

     Truman's head slowly drops in surrender, his doubts draining
     away.  Marlon embraces Truman in a bearhug.

     Truman looks over his shoulder to the sky where a single star
     shines.


     INT.  CONTROL ROOM.  NIGHT.

     From his chair, CHRISTOF modestly accepts the congratulations of
     his COLLEAGUES.  The two executives, MOSES and ROMAN are at the
     head of the line, their earlier disagreement suddenly forgotten.

     CHLOE gives Christof a warm hug.

     MARLON, accepting a towel from a P.A., still in wardrobe,
     approaches and kneels beside the arm of Christof's chair.
     grasping his hand.

                           MARLON
                      (leaving his head close to
                      Christof)
              I can't thank you enough.  I don't know
              what happened.  He was so close.  It threw
              me.  I'm indebted.

     Christof gives Marlon a consoling pat on the shoulder and
     Marlon withdraws.

     Finally Christof's Assistant Director, SIMEON, approaches and
     offers his hand.  Christof hesitates before shaking.  Simeon
     returns to the monitors, now showing TRUMAN alone at the dock or
     Long Island.  Christof stares out the window to conceal an
     expression of quiet vindication.


     INT.  A LTVING ROOM SOMEWHERE.  NIGHT.

     The two OLD WOMEN we have seen before sit on their sofa
     gazing straight ahead.  On the teievision in front of them,
     a live picture of TRUMAN - the first time we have seen him
     broadcast to a viewer's set.

     He is reading a book at his kitchen table, unaware of the
     cameras recording him.

     The scene alternates between a wide master shot, a medium tight
     shot, a close up of Truman's face and two insert shots - one
     over the shoulder shot of the page he is reading and one from
     another angle showing the book's title, "To The Ends Of The
     Earth - The Age Of Exploration".

     At one point, a sponsor's border appears on screen, tastefully
     framing the "action" with the message, "FOLGERS Coffee - Good To
     The Last Drop."  After several seconds, the border disappears.

     Suddenly tbe live picture of Truman shrinks into a window on the
     screen to accomodate a title sequence that begins to piay around
     the edge of the image.  Overlapping scenes from Truman's life
     appear in chronological order, from infancy to adolescence and
     finally adulthood.  A graphic, "TRUMAN - Total Record Of A Human
     Life", appears on screen accompanied by an introductory
     narration.

                           NARRATOR (O.C.)
              You are watching "Truman - Total Record Of
              A Human Life".  Everything that occurs here
              is real.  There are no re-creations or
              interruptions.  Due to the live and unedited
              nature of the program, viewer discretion is
              advised.

     The title sequence is replaced by an INTERVIEWER, mid-fifties,
     conservative suit and hair, sitting opposite CHRISTOF in a Larry
     King-style interview setting.  Projected in the background is
     the live picture of Truman, immersed in his book.


     INT.  STUDIO.  NIGHT.

                           INTERVIEWER
                      (to camera)
              Welcome to week seventeen hundred and sixty
              eight of "Truman" and there can scarcely have
              been a more momentous week in the show's
              history.  I'm your host, Michael Conners, and
              this is a special edition of "Tru Talk", the
              forum where we discuss and analyze recent
              events with the show's award-winning creator
              and producer, Christof.
                      (referring to the image
                      of Truman in the background)
              I remind viewers that as this is a living
              history, it is our practise to keep the image
              of Truman on screen at all times.
                      (turning to Christof)
              Welcome.

                           CHRISTOF
              Thank you.

                           INTERVIEWER
              Before we start taking calls, the huge surge in
              ratings over the last few days, how do you hope
              to sustain that audience now that Truman appears
              to have reconciled himself, returned to "normal"?

                           CHRISTOF
              Ratings have never been our primary goal.  I
              imagine we'll lose those voycurs only interested
              in witnessing Truman's latest torment.  However
              I'm certain our core audience will remain loyal.

                           INTERVIEWER
              But recent events have been so dramatic, it does
              raise the perennial question.  What keeps us
              watching one man twenty-four hours a day -
              eating, sleeping, working, sitting for hours in
              contemplation?

                           CHRISTOF
              It has to be the reality.

     During this segment, we cut to a cross-section of VIEWERS -
     the NIGHTWATCHMEN, the two OLD WOMEN on their sofa, the
     BARMAN and the WAITRESS - listening to Christof's theories on
     their viewing habits.

                           CHRISTOF
              We've become increasingly frustrated watching
              actors give us phony emotions, bored with
              pyrotechnics and special effects.  While the
              world he inhabits is counterfeit, there's
              nothing fake about Truman himself.  No scripts.
              no cue cards.  It's not always Shakespeare but
              it's genuine.  That's how he can support an
              entire channel.

                           INTERVIEWER
              A window onto the human condition?

                           CHRISTOF
              I prefer to think of it as a mirror.  Not only
              does he give us a glimpse of the truth, he
              gives us a glimpse of ourselves.

                           INTERVIEWER
              But how do you account for the popularity of
              those eight hours a day when Truman sleeps?

                           CHRISTOF
              We find many viewers leave him on all night
              for comfort.  Haven't you ever watched your
              child or your lover sleep?

                           INTERVIEWER
              Let's go to some of those viewers' calls.

     The Interviewer presses a blinking illuminated button on his
     desk's high-tech phone terminal.

                           INTERVIEWER
                      (into speaker phone)
              Charlotte, North Carolina, for Christof.

                           MALE CALLER 1 (O.C.)
              Hello?

                           INTERVIEWER
              You're on, caller.  Go ahead.

                           MALE CALLER 1
              Christof, it's a great honor to speak with you.

                           CHRISTOF
              Thank you.

                           MALE CALLER 1
              Truman has never been closer.  The way he looked
              directly at us, spoke to us for the first time.
              Do you think he'll ever work it out?

                           CHRISTOF
              I don't believe so.  Not now.  He tested his
              world, as we all do at certain times, and
              eventually it passed the test.  You have to
              understand, he is a man made-for-TV, the world
              he occupies his only frame of reference.
              No, for him to come even this close to the
              truth is a remarkable testament to his
              instincts.

     The Interviewer presses another line on his terminal.

                           INTERVIEWER
              Sacramento, California, you're on "Tru Talk".

                           MALE CALLER 2 (O.C.)
              How much of a strain has the last few days
              placed on the actors?

                           CHRISTOF
              Working on "Truman" has always been a huge
              commitment for an actor, not just in terms
              of separation from friends and family, but
              since Truman essentially drives the plot,
              it's a never-ending improvisation.  Recent
              events have raised the pressure but also the
              prestige.

                           INTERVIEWER
                      (cutting off the call)
              Of course Truman has always been very much in on
              casting.

                           CHRISTOF
              As with our own lives, the only people he can't
              cast are his family.  Otherwise he has final
              approval, able to elevate an extra into a lead
              role as was the case with his only real friend,
              Marlon, or alternatively relegate a star to a bit
              player.

                           INTERVIEWER
                      (pressing another line)
              Istanbul, Turkey, you're on with world-renowned
              videographer, Christof.

                           MALE CALLER 3 (O.C.)
              Christof.  I've admired your work my whole life,
              although I can't say I've seen it all.

                           CHRISTOF
              Who can?

                           MALE CALLER 3
              Can you settle an argument for me?  What's
              the longest time Truman has been off-camera?

                           CHRISTOF
                      (trace of pride)
              In his entire life, forty-two minutes.  A
              technical fault in 1978 accounts for most of
              that time.  The remainder generally results
              from blindspots, in the early days, when Truman
              would stray out of range of our cameras.

                           INTERVIEWER
              The Hague for Christof...The Hague?...lost them.
                      (pressing another line)
              Amagansett, Long Island, you're on "Tru Talk".

                           FEMALE CALLER 1 (O.C.)
              How can you say Truman lives a life like any other?

                           CHRISTOF
                      (sensing the thinly disguised
                      resentinent in the caller's voice)
              I believe that to be so.  I often feel the only
              difference between Truman's life and our own
              is that his is being more thoroughly documented.
              We all play our allotted roles--

                           FEMALE CALLER 1 (O.C.)
              --He's not a performer.  He's a prisoner.

     The Interviewer goes to cut off the call but Christof
     holds him back.

                           CHRISTOF
                      (rising to the challenge)
              --He can leave at any time.  If his was more
              than just a vague ambition, if he were
              absolutely determined to discover the truth,
              there's no way we could prevent him.  I think
              what really distresses you, caller, is that
              ultimately he prefers the comfort of his "cell"--

                           FEMALE CALLER 1
                      (as if trying to convince herself.
                      giving herself away)
              --No, you're wrong!  He'll prove you wrong!
              He can still do it!

                           CHRISTOF
                      (a thought occurring, looking
                      directly into camera)
              Do I know you, caller?  Your voice sounds familiar.


     INT.  SYLVIA'S BEACH HOUSE.  NIGHT.

     SYLVIA, finger on the button of the phone where she has cut off
     the call, stares at CHRISTOF on her television screen.

     It is she who is the Female Caller.  Christof seems to stare
     back at her as the talk show continues.

                           INTERVIEWER
                      (from television)
              Recording a human life from birth to death,
              that's still the intention?  You still believe
              Truman has more to contribute?

                           CHRISTOF
                      (still reflecting on the last call)
              More than ever.  By unwittingly allowing us to
              witness his struggles, he's constantly forcing
              us to evaluate our own lives.  He gives us hope.

                           INTERVIEWER
              Let's take another call.
                      (pressing a line)
              London, England you're on "Tru Talk".

                           FEMALE CALLER 2
              By definition Truman has to be free of censorship,
              but has the recent violence and profanity
              caused a problem for the sponsors...?

     Sylvia shuts out the conversation on the television, focusing on
     the window that displays TRUMAN, still buried in his book.

     She comes close to the screen, catching his melancholy.  She
     has a camera and a white envelope in her hand.  With a look of
     resolve, she takes her fountain pen and writes Truman's name
     on the envelope in her familiar blue ink.


     INT.  MASTER TAPE ROOM.  NIGHT.

     Row upon row of digital video cassettes occupy one entire,
     cavernous room - "Truman" and a date on the spine of each
     cassette.  Suspended from the ceiling, a monitor shows a live
     picture of TRUMAN sleeping on the sofa.

     Sitting in front of a playback monitor, CHLOE is transfixed by
     Truman thirty-four years earlier, a FETUS in his mother's womb.

                           CHRISTOF (O.C.)
              What are you looking for?

     Chloe tries to conceal her startlement at CHRISTOF's unexpected
     entrance.

                           CHLOE
                      (not taking her eyes from screen)
              He was premature, wasn't he?

                           CHRISTOF
              Only by two weeks.

                           CHLOE
              Curious even then?  Like he couldn't
              wait to get started?

                           CHRISTOF
                      (feeling out where the
                      conversation is headed)
              His eagerness to leave his mother's womb
              also meant he was the one selected.

                           CHLOE
              What was it like, the first show?

                           CHRISTOF
              The ultimate live television.  In competition
              with five other unwanted pregnancies - the
              casting of a show determined by an air date
              - he was the one who arrived on cue.

                           CHLOE
              Is it true what you said...on the show tonight?
              About letting him go if he wanted it badly
              enough.  Would you really do that?

     Christof stares at his assistant, weighing her loyalty.

                           CHRISTOF
              It won't come to that.


     INT.  OFFICE.  DAY.

     The suitably crestfallen TRUMAN stands in front of his boss,
     ERROL, sitting behind his ostentaciously large desk.  LAWRENCE
     lounges on the guest sofa, enjoying Truman's dressing-down.


     INT.  BANK.  DAY.

     TRUMAN approaches the bank window.  The teller is the YOUNG
     WOMAN whose child Truman attacked in the street.  She takes a
     step back at the sight of Truman, apprehensive, the
     confrontation fresh in her memory.

     Truman glances at the names on the checks in the young woman's
     hand, realizing how she was able to identify him in the street.
     He begins to apologize profusely.


     INT.  TRUMAN'S GARAGE.  DUSK.

     TRUMAN enters the garage, carrying Sylvia's sweater.  He
     breathes in the scent one last time and reluctantly replaces it
     in the trunk.  With a sense of finality, he lowers the lid and
     fastens the lock.


     EXT.  TRUMAN'S BACKYARD.  DUSK.

     TRUMAN emerges from the garage, wheeling his lawnmower,
     deliberately averting his eyes from the back of the house.

     Staring out of the kitchen window, a tall glass of iced tea in
     her hand, MERYL has been anticipating her husband's appearance.
     She wears a neckbrace, we sense more as a reminder to Truman
     than for any benefit she might derive.

     Feeling Meryl's eyes burning into his back, Truman fires up the
     mower and heads directly towards the symbolically uncut section
     of grass.  We focus on the errant blades of grass as they are
     severed by the mower.  The lawn is now uniformly trimmed.

     From a mechanical platform above the Expressway, CHRISTOF and
     CHLOE watch Truman's final act of defiance laid to rest.


     INT.  OFFICE BUILDING, LOWER MANHATTAN.  MORNING.

     In an office building high above Manhattan's financial district,
     a ROBOTIC MANNEOUIN in a 3-piece suit stands at an upper-story
     window mechanically lifting a coffee cup to its mouth.


     EXT.  LOWER MANHATTAN STREET.  MORNING.

     In the street below, something is different about the rush-hour
     traffic.  The PEDESTRIANS are all standing around, no one
     walking.  Some are chatting with each other, others primping.
     The cars, vans and taxis are also idling.

     Camera locations are being checked.  A miniature camera
     inserted into the head of a streetlamp, a CAMERA TECHNICIAN
     waves his hand in front of an innocent-looking fire hydrant, the
     eye of a MDDEL on a bus shelter's cosmetic ad is wiped clean,
     the head of a parking meter is replaced, a buttonhole camera is
     placed on a BUSINESSMAN's double-breasted jacket by a TECHNICIAN
     - we see from the button's POV, a CONTACT LENS CAMERA is
     carefully inserted into the eye of Truman's colleague, LAWRENCE,
     another TECHNICIAN we observe from the contact's POV.

     Finally a surveillance camera on the outside of a bank building
     and a TOURIST'S camcorder are positioned.


     INT.  CONTROL ROOM.  DAY.

     CHRISTOF is seated at the control desk, directing the morning
     session, SIMEON assisting, CHLOE at his shoulder, a buzz of
     excitement in the room.

                           CHRISTOF
              I hope we've got fresh extras.

                           CHLOE
                      (consulting a clipboard)
              The rotation was made this morning.

                           CHRISTOF
                      (staring at a monitor, irritated)
              I don't like the couple with the baby.
              They'd never be together.

     The COUPLE with the stroller are promptly moved further along
     the street.

                           CHRISTOF
              Who's doing wardrobe?  I keep seeing the
              same wardrobe...


     INT.  SUBWAY STATION.  MORNING.

     TRUMAN spills out of the subway car with hundreds of other
     COMMUTERS.  We hear Christof's off-camera voice, as always
     unheard by Truman.

                           CHRISTOF (O.C.)
              ...everybody back to One...

     EXT.  LOWER MANHATTAN STREET.  MORNING

                           CHRISTOF (O.C.)
              ...and, action background...

     At the command, the PEDESTRIANS and VEHICLES begin inoving
     normally, TRUMAN exits the subway, suspecting nothing.  He
     begins his trek to work, accompanied by the cued rush hour
     traffic.

                           CHRISTOF (O.C.)
              ...nice...nice...I like the woman with the dog...
              let's keep it moving...I want that traffic kept
              together...everybody look like you've got places
              to go...


     INT.  CONTROL ROOM.  DAY.

     CHRISTOF covers his microphone to deliver an aside to SIMEON,
     from whom he has temporarily assumed the role of director.

                           CHRISTOF
              I bet he doesn't stop at the newstand.

     As predicted, Truman walks by, barely glancing at a newspaper's
     banner headline, "NUCLEAR POWER PLANT REOPENED".  Christof scans
     the shot options available to him on the video wall.

                           CHRISTOF
              ...Bodycam Two...

     The large On-Air Monitor cuts to Truman, via the point-of-view
     of an approaching PEDESTRIAN.  For an instant, the unaware
     Truman looks directly into the lens of the disguised camera.

                           CHRISTOF
              ...streetlight eight...

     The monitor cuts to an overhead shot from a streetlamp.  The
     camera continues to follow Truman's progress.

                           CHRISTOF
              ...ready, Car-Cam One.  Go to One...

     TRUMAN enters his office building as a taxi cruises by.

                           CHRISTOF
              ...and cut to interior...

     Truman is immediately picked up by a hidden camera inside
     the building where he exchanges a half-hearted greeting with an
     ancient SECURITY GUARD.

                           CHRISTOF
              ...looser...

     The camera widens the angle.

                           CHRISTOF
              ...and action, Vivien...
                      (aside, proud of his casting)
              Looks just like Truman's mother at that age.

     VIVIEN, an insurance adjuster approaches the elevator button at
     the same time as Truman.  However she reaches for it after
     Truman has already turned his back.

                           CHRISTOF
                      (incensed)
              Damn, she missed her mark!
                      (impatiently to Simeon)
              Why do we bother with walk-throughs if
              nobody pays attention?  Give me a two-shot
              of Truman and Vivien...go to the master
              ...hold the elevators...
                      (mustering patience, into microphone)
              Vivien, press the elevator button again
              ...and make sure you catch his eye this time...


     INT.  INSURANCE OFFICE LOBBY.  DAY.

     A second time, TRUMAN's brief encounter with VIVIEN goes like
     clockwork.  As instructed, she hammers away at the elevator
     button and throws a conspiratorial look to Truman.  The elevator
     car duly arrives and Truman's eyes follow Vivien's rear as she
     sachets into the lift.  For a moment he appears to glance at a
     piece of gaffer tape on the marble floor.


     INT.  CONTROL ROOM.  DAY.

                           CHRISTOF
              Good!  Perfect!  Cut to the interior...

     The monitor cuts to the inside of the elevator, rapidly
     filling with co-workers.

                           CHRISTOF
              ...and Lawrence...

     Just as the doors are about to close, LAWRENCE oozes in.  He
     gives Truman a smug smile.

                           CHRISTOF
              ...nice look, Lawrence...and, Vivien...

     The elevator doors open and Vivien exits with two co-workers.

                           LAWRENCE
                      (admiring aside to the remaining
                      fellow-males in the elevator)
              I wouldn't kick her out of bed.

     Truman doesn't seem to share Lawrence's enthusiasm for the
     comely young woman.  He is miles away.


     INT.  STUDIO - CONFERENCE ROOM.  DAY.

     Assembled around a long oval table for a story confernce are
     several principal characters in Truman's life - MERYL, MARLON,
     ERROL, TYRONE, RAQUEL, VERONICA and the new actress, VIVIEN,
     sitting slightly apart from the rest of the cast.

     CHRISTOF takes his place at the head of the table, a large
     monitor showing TRUMAN drinking coffee in his cubicle at
     American Life plays silently behind Christof's head.

                           CHRISTOF
                      (to the meeting, referring to
                      Meryl by her real name)
              Regrettably, I have to inform you that
              Hannah has chosen not to renew her contract.

     All eyes turn to Meryl.  She looks at the floor.

                           CHRISTOF
              I'm sure we can all respect her reasons.

     Meryl receives a sympathetic squeeze of the hand from her co-
     star Marlon, now out of wardrobe, wearing an Armani suit.

                           CHRISTOF
              Her separation from Truman will be
              orchestrated over the summer.
                      (more up-beat)
              However, I'm pleased to announce that
              television's first on-air conception will
              still take place.  You witnessed the initial
              contact this morning.
                      (glancing to Vivien, once
                      again using her real name)
              You all know Claudia from her work in theatre.
              Thankfully, Truman doesn't.

     The rest of the cast nod politely in Vivien's direction.

                           CHRISTOF
                      (referring to the bound documents
                      CHLOE passes to each cast member)
              This is a copy of Claudia's back story.
              Her character's name will be Vivien.
              She's the new adjuster at the office.

     The cast idly flip through the documents, prominently stamped on
     the cover, "NOT TO BE TAKEN ON SET".

                           CHRISTOF
              We intend to entice Truman into the
              affair as soon as possible.  Claudia will
              make her advance at the seminar Truman's
              attending next week.  Details are in your
              schedules.  I'm sure you'll all make Claudia
              welcome.

                           MARLON
                      (injecting a note of levity, more
                      sophisticated than the character he plays)
              Question is, will Truman make her welcome?

     The cast snickers.

                           CHRISTOF
                      (immediately back to business)
              I don't have to tell you, how critical
              the next few weeks will be.  This takes us
              into the next generation.  When Truman's
              child is born, the network will be switching
              to a two-channel format to chronicle both lives.

                           VIVIEN
              What happens when Truman and the baby are
              both on camera together?

                           CHRISTOF
              There will simply be duplicate coverage.

                           VIVIEN
                      (mischievous)
              Let's just hope we don't have twins.

                           CHLOE
                      (uncharacteristically flippant)
              When Truman dies do we go back to the
              single channel?

     The cast turn in her direction.  Christof has a second occasion
     to question his Assistant's loyalty.


     INT.  A BAR SOMEWHERE.  DAY.

     The BARMAN, WAITRESS and PATRON we have seen before, observe
     TRUMAN on the television above the bar.  The cameras track
     Truman's progress, walking along Broadway.  As he ducks into a
     sex shop, the threesome at the bar exchange looks.  Inside the
     store, Truman appears apprehensive.

                           BARMAN
              What's he doing in there?

                           PATRON
              Meryl's at her mom's.  Maybe he's got an urge.

     On screen, Truman looks through some X-Rated video titles.

                           WAITRESS
                      (referring to Truman's overcoat)
              What's with the coat?

                           BARMAN
                      (smirking at the irony)
              Maybe he doesn't wanna be recognized.

     Truman bumps into a display of sex paraphenalia, knocking an
     item to the floor.

                           PATRON
                      (remarking on Truman's clumsiness)
              Nervous.

     Truman tries to right the display and hurriedly exits the store,
     the cameras following his journey as always.

                           BARMAN
                      (exasperated)
              Oh God, he never bought nothing.

                           WOMAN
              Give him a break.  It's taken him thirty-
              four years to get the nerve to go in there.


     INT.  TRUMAN'S HOUSE - KITCHEN.  NIGHT

     We focus on a list left by Meryl on the refrigerator, several
     pages long.  The kitchen itself is a bombsite.  More than the
     cliche dishes in the sink - dozens of cardboard boxes stacked
     haphazardly on the floor.


     INT.  TRUMAN'S HOUSE - BEDROOM.  NIGHT.

     The usually orderly bedroom is also a mess.  Blankets piled in a
     heap.  Several large, half-filled cardboard boxes cluttering the
     room.  A chair in an odd position near the bed.  Clothes strewn
     everywhere.  Hardly an inch of floor space remains uncovered.

     TRUMAN is asleep in bed, the damaged waterbed replaced with a
     standard mattress.  Although he is completely covered from head
     to toe in bedding, the outline of his body is still clearly
     visible.


     INT.  CONTROL ROOM.  NIGHT.

     Close up on the On-Air monitor in the temple of a control
     room.  It displays a wide shot of Truman's darkened bedroom
     filmed through the green hue of the night vision cameras.
     Assistant Producer, SIMEON, and his VIDEO OPERATORS slouch in
     their swivel chairs paying scant attention to the screen.
     Simeon gives his instructions in a lethargic, metronomic manner.

                           SIMEON
              ...Ready two.  Go to two.

     Operator, eating a doughnut, presses one of the illuminated
     buttons on the panel and the camera angle changes to a close
     shot of Truman's covered head.  The camera stays on the
     blanketed head for a long moment.

                           SIMEON
              And back to the medium.

     Another button is pressed and the angle changes.  A trace of
     frustration is evident in the control room.  Recording a
     sleeping subject is unrewarding enough without also having to
     contend with Truman's recently aquired camera-shyness.

                           SIMEON
              ...and wide...

                           OPERATOR
                      (aside to Simeon)
              Could we have picked a bigger loser if we tried?

                           SIMEON
                      (shrugs)
              That loser pays our salary.

                           OPERATOR
              He's given up on himself again.

                           SIMEON
              Who cares?  Makes life easier for us.
              He is what he is.

     At the far end of the great room, one of the large double
     doors opens and CHRISTOF enters, as always accompanied by CHLOE,
     carrying a leather-bound folder.  Simeon and the Operators
     subtely straighten in their chairs.  Christof pretends not to
     notice.  He is staring intently at the On-Air monitor.

                           CHRISTOF
              When did he start sleeping like that?

                           SIMEON
              About the time Meryl left.

                           CHRISTOF
              Is that the best shot we can get?

                           SIMEON
              What's to see?

     Christof watches Truman, a trace of concern in his eyes.

                           CHRISTOF
                      (referring to the debris in Truman's bedroom)
              What happened to the room?

                           SIMEON
              He started to reorganize.  I was going to
              call you.  But half-way through, he gave
              up and fell asleep.

     Apparently satisfied, Christof turns to an operator.

                           CHRISTOF
              I want to check the set-ups for tomorrow's
              insurance convention.

     Reading off the notes in Chloe's folder, the operator punches
     up a batch of camera angles on smaller preview monitors.  They
     show a generic-looking Marriott Hotel, devoid of actors.  A
     banner in reception reads, "WELCOME AMERICAN LIFE & ACCIDENT".
     The Operator looks to Christof for approval and realizes his
     producer's attention has wandered.  Christof is staring at the
     sleeping figure of Truman on the On-Air monitor.

                           CHRISTOF
              Give me a shot from his wedding band.

                           SIMEON
                      (pointing out the ring on Truman's
                      bedside table)
              He took it off.

                           CHRISTOF
                      (a trace of concern)
              Why is he so still?  He's too still.

     Christof picks up a spare headset from the panel and puts it to
     his ear.

                           CHRISTOF
              Isolate the audio in the cans and amplify.

     An operator pushes up an audio fader on the panel.  Christof and
     his colleagues listen to Truman's steady breathing in their
     headphones.  Simeon and the Operators nod, reassured that
     nothing is amiss.  Christof is not so easily convinced.

                           CHRISTOF
              Give me a preview.  An ECU on his torso.

     A camera hidden in the room's bedside lamp zooms in to Truman's
     prone outline...while the breathing remains steady, the body
     does not rise and fall.

                           CHRISTOF
                      (anxious, barking a command to Chloe)
              Phone him.

     Chloe picks up a phone connected to the desk and dials.

                           CHRI STOF
                      (anticipating Chloe's question)
              Wrong number.

     The phone on the bedside table, inches from Truman's head,
     begins to ring.  Truman doesn't flinch.


     INT.  SYLVIA'S BEACH HOUSE.  NIGHT.

     SYLVIA walks up from the seashore where she has been taking a
     late night swim.  Hearing the telephone ringing; she rushes
     to pick it up.  However, after lifting the receiver, the phone
     continues to ring.

     The sound is coming from her television, left on in the bureau.
     On the screen, TRUMAN sleeps, seemingly undisturbed by the call.
     Sylvia, drying herself, watches with fascination.


     INT.  CONTROL ROOM.  NIGHT.

     CHRISTOF and the CREW are now highly agitated.

                           CHRISTOF
                      (a trace of panic)
              He didn't drink tonight?  No pills?

     Every question receives a shake of the Assistant's head in
     reply.

                           CHRISTOF
              Hang up!

     Chloe promptly cuts the connection and Truman's phone
     ceases to ring.

                           CHRISTOF
              Get Marlon over there.

                           CHLOE
              Under what pretext?

                           CHRISTOF
                      (letting his anxiety show)
              Any fucking pretext!

     Christof turns his back on the monitors, his mind racing.


     EXT.  TRUMAN'S HOUSE.  NIGHT.

     MARLON's car squeals to a halt outside Truman's house.
     Hurriedly dressed in jeans and coat over a bare chest, he
     dashes barefoot to the front door.  He tries the doorhandle,
     pounds on the door and rings the doorbell simultaneously,
     shouting Truman's name all the while.

                           MARLON
              Tru!..Tru!..

     Frustrated, Marlon runs to the bedroom and thumps on the
     window. He can see the shape of Truman lying on the bed but
     his shouts fail to rouse him.  Marlon picks up one of Meryl's
     carefully nurtured flower pots from beneath the bedroom window.

                           MARLON
                      (shouting a warning)
              I'm comin' in, Tru!

     Marlon hurls the flower pot through the window sending a shower
     of glass over Truman's bed.  Still he doesn't move.  Marlon
     reaches his hand through the shards of glass clinging to the
     window frame and unlatches the window.


     NT. TRUMAN'S HOUSE - BEDROOM.  NIGHT.

     MARLON clanbers headfirst through the opened window and lands
     in an awkward heap on the floor beside TRUMAN's bed.

     He pushes away the clutter in the bedroom and finally
     stands at his co-star's bedside.  There is a hissing sound.
     Marlon gingerly lifts the bedcover.  Beneath the bedding is a
     life-size inflatable female doll.

     The doll has been punctured by the glass and is slowly
     deflating.  Lying beside the doll's chest is Truman's portable
     tape recorder.  Marlon picks up the recorder and places it next
     to his ear.  The cassette plays the sound of Truman breathing.


     INT.  CONTROL ROOM.  NIGHT.

     CHRISTOF, wide-eyed, stares at the image on the On-Air monitor
     of MARLON and his bizarre companion.  Marlon is frozen, staring
     into camera.

                           CHRISTOF
                      (quiet but firm)
              Cut transmission.

     Simeon hesitates, unsure if has heard correctly.  He looks to
     Christof for confirmation, his finger poised over an
     "EMERGENCY" button.

                           CHRISTOF
                      (enraged)
              I said, "Cut"!

     Christof lunges forward and presses the button himself.


     INT.  SYLVIA'S BEACH HOUSE.  NIGHT.

     SYLVIA watches agog as the scene in Truman's bedroom on
     her television screen is replaced by the "TRUMAN" logo and the
     message, "TECHNICAL FAULT.  PLEASE STAND BY."


     INT.  CONTROL ROOM NIGHT.

     CHRISTOF has taken his place at the control panel.  On the bank
     of monitors in front of the mixing desk, the OPERATORS
     systematically search through the numerous set-ups in Truman's
     home and neighborhood.  Occasionally MARLON or an EXTRA appear
     in frame as they fan out and begin a man-hunt.

     While the on-Air monitor continues to play its test-card,
     Christof and Simeon concentrate on another isolated monitor
     playing in fast-rewind, time code in the bottom right corner.
     It is a recording of the night's transmission.  Simeon stops on
     the last on-camera appearance by TRUMAN.

     They watch Truman, on-screen, switch off his bedroom light and
     climb into bed fully clothed, immediately pulling the covers
     over his head.  As the light is switched off, the recording
     camera automatically switches to night vision.  Simeon continues
     to play at normal speed, now and then scrolling forward in fast-
     forward mode.  Christof suddenly points to the screen.

                           CHRISTOF
              There.  Freeze...Zoom into the chair...

     Simeon types the appropriate command.

                           CHRISTOF
              Enhance.

     On the blown-up screen, between a cardboard box and a chair leg,
     it is barely possible to make out Truman's hand as he crawls
     commando-style from his bedroom, his inflatable replacement
     already positioned in the bed.

                           CHRISTOF
                      (referring to the debris)
              He wasn't making a mess.  He was engineering
              a blind spot.

                           CHLOE
              How does he know where the cameras are?

                           CHRI STOF
              I don't know.
                      (noting the time-code on the monitor,
                      staring into the back of Simeon's head)
              All I know is we've been filming a blow-up
              doll for the last three hours.

     Simeon feels the hostility.


     INT.  CONTROL ROOM.  DAY.

     The systematic search of the monitors continues.  They now
     reveal that dawn has broken on the set.

                           SIMEON
                      (hanging up the phone)
              We've declared a curfew.  Only the extras
              required for the search are on the set.
              Everyone else is at first positions.

                           CHRISTOF
              All prop cars accounted for?

                           SIMEON
              He has to be on foot.  He has the world's
              most recognizable face.  He can't disappear.

     All heads turn to CHLOE as she enters the grand control room
     with a status report.

                           CHLOE
              The sponsors are threatening to pull the plug
              if we don't make a statement within the next
              hour.  The media is in a feeding frenzy.  The phone
              lines are jammed.  Every network has a pirated shot
              of Harlon and the dummy.


     EXT.  VACANT LOT.  DAY.

     TRUMAN rolls in the dirt of a construction site, tearing at his
     clothes and caking his face and hair with black inud.

     He struggles up a slope onto an adjacent roadway where a
     shopping cart awaits, loaded with soiled plastic bags.
     Looking every inch a derelict, Truman begins to wheel his
     shopping cart through the empty streets of Brooklyn.


     EXT.  BROOKLYN BRIDGE.  DAY.

     TRUMAN wheels his shopping cart over a deserted Brooklyn Bridge.
     Over his shoulder, in the far distance, we see a lone car
     approaching.  As it nears, we recognize a police car.

     Truman takes a look under the bridge, as if participating in
     the search.  The car slowly draws alongside, the POLICE OFFICER
     looking straight into Truman's blackened face.

                           POLICE OFFICER
              Any sign of him?

                           TRUMAN
                      (deliberately gravelling his voice)
              Not yet.

     The Police Officer takes a second look at Truman.  After what
     seems like an eternity, he motions his PARTNER to drive on.

                           POLICE OFFICER
                      (to Truman, as the car pulls away)
              Take it easy.


     EXT.  LOWER MANHATTAN.  DAY.

     We pan down one concrete canyon after another.  The usually
     bustling financial district is totally, eerily deserted.

     Suddenly we see a line of PEOPLE fanned out across a street.
     Then another and another.

     PEOPLE of every description, shoulder to shoulder, marching
     down the otherwise empty streets the way a search is conducted
     at a crime scene.  The lines include PRINCIPALS and EXTRAS
     linked arm in arm, wardrobed for their usual roles as EXECUTIVES
     and SECRETARIES, STORE CLERKS, TELEPHONISTS, MAINTENANCE and
     CONSTRUCTION WORKERS, WAITERS and WAITRESSES, COOKS, SHOPPERS,
     HEALTH WORKERS, SECURITY GUARDS, POSTAL WORKERS, POLICE
     OFFICERS, FIRE FIGHTERS AND HOMELESS PEOPLE.  On one occasion we
     glimpse Truman's colleagues, LAWRENCE, ERROL and VIVIEN, amongst
     the searchers.

     A building-to-building, floor-to-floor, office-to-office search
     is also being conducted, each structure secured as they go, the
     searchers paying special attention to potential blind spots such
     as closets, dumpsters, man holes, sewers, car trunks, trees and
     shrubbery.

     We focus on one of the waves of searchers.  TRUMAN has linked
     arms in the middle of a row, his disguise still holding up.

     A swarm of helicopters fills the sky.


     INT.  CONTROL ROOM.  DAY.

     While his COLLEAGUES monitor the bank of screens, CHRISTOF has
     been joined by the two ever-anxious studio executives, MOSES and
     ROMAN.

                           MOSES
                      (to Christof who is still studying
                      the faces in a row of SEARCHERS)
              Rumors are circulating he's dead.

                           ROMAN
                      (pacing nervously)
              The sponsors are threatening to rip up their contracts.

                           CHRISTOF
                      (unconcerned, referring to the static
                      "STAND BY" graphic, now accompanied by
                      soothing classical music)
              Why?  We're getting higher ratings for
              that graphic than any time in the series.


     INT.  BARROOM.  DAY.

     The television behind the bar carries the still graphic.
     BAR PATRONS animatedly discuss Truman's fate over their drinks.
     Some place bets with each other over the outcome.


     EXT.  ELECTRONICS STORE.  DAY.

     A crowd of PASSERS-BY hover around a display of televisions
     in the window of an electronics store, awaiting developments.


     INT.  LIVING ROOM.  DAY.

     The two OLD WOMEN we have seen before stare intently at the
     graphic on their televisions.


     INT.  CONTROL ROOM.  DAY.

     The fan of EXTRAS reaches the harbor and automatically turns to
     make another sweep.

                           CHLOE
                      (referring to the empty streets)
              When we flush him out how do we explain this?

                           CHRISTOF
                      (deadpan)
              We tell him the truth.

     Chloe looks askance at Christof.

                           CHRISTOF
                      (joking darkly)
              We're making a movie.

                           SIMEON
                      (hopeful)
              We'll get him on this next sweep.

                           CHRISTOF
              What have we missed?

                           SIMEON
              It's just a matter of time.

                           CHRISTOF
              No.  We've missed something.

     Christof turns his back on the screens.  Over his shoulder,
     we see a monitor displaying a view of the harbor.


     EXT.  LOWER MANHATTAN - PIER 13.  DAY.

     TRUMAN has broken away from the line of searchers, on the
     pretext of taking a leak.  He is standing on the edge of
     Pier 13, facing the harbor, his back turned to those beginning
     their next sweep.  Suddenly Truman ducks behind one of the green
     and white inflatable canopies that enclose the Wall Street
     Racquet Club.

     We see a close up of Truman's terrified eyes in his blackened
     face, staring down at the lapping water.  It triggers a montage
     of flashbacks.  As usual the images all appear to play on a
     television screen.

     TRUMAN on the CLIFF FACE at seven years old, his second grade
     teacher SISTER OLIVIA, a close-up of DROWNING STATISTICS at
     his insurance company, mesmerized by the water in the FERRY
     TERMINAL, seventeen-year old SYLVIA jumping in the fountain, his
     WATERBED rocking, and seven-year old Truman sitting on the
     UPTURNED BOAT in Long Island Sound crying into the darkness.


     EXT.  PIER 13.  DAY.

     TRUMAN comes back to reality.  He steels himself, shuts out the
     doubts and dives into the water.


     EXT.  NEW YORK HARBOR.  DAY.

     Underwater we see TRUMAN panicking at the shock of the cold
     sea, arms and legs flailing.  Suddenly he stops and sinks for a
     moment in the weight of his clothes.  Then slowly he rises to
     the surface and begins to swim.

     Moored in the harbor is the scaled-down replica of Columbus'
     flagship, The Santa Maria.


     INT.  CONTROL ROOM.  DAY.

     CHRISTOF is spooling through significant scenes in the history
     of "TRUMAN" on a preview monitor.

     He pauses on the scene of SYLVIA and TRUMAN at the fountain
     in Flushing Meadow Park in the show's seventeenth season.
     Sylvia has her finger to Truman's lips.  Christof presses
     "PLAY" on the mixing desk.

                           SYLVIA
                      (from monitor)
              You remember when you were a little boy...

     Christof fast forwards, then presses PLAY once again.

                           SYLVIA
              ...Trust that boy...

     Christof jabs the "PAUSE" button, freezing the picture.  He
     recites the words to himself.

                           CHRISTOF
              Trust that boy...
                      (to Simeon)
              We're not watching the sea.

                           SIMEON
                      (confused)
              Why would we?

                           CHRISTOF
              Sweep the harbor.


     EXT.  NEW YOUR HARBOR.  DAY.

     TRUMAN is at the wheel of the Santa Maria, wind filling her
     sails.  Covering the face of the ship's compass is Sylvia's
     composite picture.

     His is the only craft afloat in New York Harbor.  As the archaic
     vessel passes under the Verrazano-Narrows Bridget, the bridge
     appears on fire in the glow of the sunlight.  Truman steers
     around Norton Point and sets a course for the open sea - the
     horizon.


     INT.  CONTROL ROOM.  DAY.

     CHRISTOF and his colleagues concentrate on a live aerial shot on
     a preview monitor, skimming over the calm, featureless sea.
     Suddenly in the distance there appears a single sail etched
     against the horizon.

                           SIMEON
              That's him!

                           CHRISTOF
              Resume transmission.

     Simeon punches a button and the image of the sailing ship is
     instantly transferred to the large On-Air monitor.


     INT.  SYLVIA'S BEACH HOUSE.  DAY.

     SYLVIA, dozing on the sofa, suddenly blinks open her eyes as the
     classical music on the television is abruptly replaced by the
     sound of a helicopte's rotor blade.

     Sylvia focuses on the screen, her breath taken away by the sight
     of TRUMAN at the wheel of the Santa Maria.


     INT.  CONTROL ROOM.  DAY.

                           CHRISTOF
                      (staring intently at the On-Air monitor)
              What do we have on that boat?

     Simeon scans a computer shot list.  He types in a code.  A
     camera from the main mast of Truman's ship activates.  Truman,
     unaware of the camera, is concentrating on steering the vessel.


     EXT.  ATLANTIC OCEAN.  DAY.

     TRUMAN is out of sight of land, the sea choppier now, rising
     and falling beneath his boat.  He nears a large buoy bobbing
     clumsily in the strong swell.  An official-looking sign is
     attached - "DANGER.  NAVAL EXERCISES.  DO NOT ENTER."  We see an
     extreme close up of the nautical signpost where a disguised
     miniature camera tracks Truman's progress.


     INT.  CONTROL ROOM.  DAY.

     CHRISTOF and the other PRODUCTION STAFF watch TRUMAN from the
     buoy's POV as he sails by.


     EXT.  ATLANTIC OCEAN.  DAY.

     TRUMAN hears a helicopter overhead.  By now the ocean spray has
     washed most of the dirt from his face, only a residue remains.
     The rags he wears, including Sylvia's sweater under his open
     coat, are soaked.  Her picture clings stubbornly to the compass.

     As he steers, he occasionally refers to a "HOW TO SAIL" book
     from his coat pocket.  He tacks against the wind, as he watches
     the military chopper circle his boat.

                           CHOPPER PILOT
                      (over P.A.)
              Alter course immediately.  You are
              entering a restricted area.

     Truman screams defiantly back to the chopper.

                           TRUMAN
              Fuck you!


     EXT.  A STREET SOMEWHERE.  DAY.

     Two YOUNG MEN on a street corner watch, transfixed, the image
     of TRUMAN steering the Santa Maria on a portable Watchman TV.

                           YOUNG MAN 1
              I knew he wasn't dead.


     INT.  HELICOPTER.  DAY.


     The HELICOPTER PILOT continues to circle.

                           PILOT (over P.A.)
              Alter course or we fire on your vessel.

     TRUMAN screams again at the chopper and gestures wildly at the
     pilot.

                           TRUMAN
              Get the hell away!  It's my life!


     INT.  CONTROL ROOM.  DAY.

                           CHRISTOF
                      (into microphone to pilot, eerily composed)
              Fire a warning.


     EXT.  ATLANTIC OCEAN.  DAY.

     A round of machine gun fire strafes the water across the bows
     of Truman's boat, several rounds striking the deck.  TRUMAN
     flinches.  In his eyes we see the ghosts return.  With great
     effort he shakes the doubts from his head and retrieves a flare
     gun from the storage cabinet in the boat's wheel house.

                           CHOPPER PILOT (over P.A.)
              Alter course.  Drop your sails.

     Truman takes aim at the chopper and fires the flare gun.  The
     distress flare hurtles towards the hovering helicopter, narrowly
     missing.  Truman ejects the spent cartridge and reloads.


     INT.  CONTROL ROOM.  DAY.

                           SIMEON
                      (shocked at the near miss)
              Jesus!  God!  Is he out of his mind?

                           CHRISTOF
                      (composed, into microphone to pilot)
              Pull back.


     EXT.  ATLANTIC OCEAN.  DAY.

     Before the chopper can take evasive action TRUMAN takes aim a
     second time and fires.  The distress flare fishtails into the
     sky and to Truman's surprise and delight, finds its mark,
     striking the rear rotor blade.  Truman lets out a whoop.

     The helicopter immediately begins to spiral downwards towards
     the sea.  The CHOPPER PILOTS bail out of the cockpit, splashing
     down safely into the coean while the helicopter enters the waves
     in a spectacular belly flop, sinking out of view in seconds like
     a stone.  Watching the pilots bobbing around in the ocean in
     their inflatable life jackets, thoughts of duty invade Truman's
     head.  He shuts out the thoughts and turns his back, steering
     away from the drifting pilots.  A look of resolve in his eyes we
     have never witnessed before.


     INT.  SYLVIA'S BEACH HOUSE.  DAY.

     SYLVIA kneels on the floor in front of the television.  As
     Christof's cameras dwell on her likeness - the composite picture
     still covering the ship's compass - she allows herself a brief
     moment of satisfaction but she does not dare to hope too much.


     INT.  CONTROL ROOM.  DAY.

     CHRISTOF, CHLOE, SIMEON, and the OTHERS have been joined in the
     control room by MARLON, MERYL, KIRK and AUDREY.

                           CHRISTOF
              How long will another chopper take?

                           SIMEON
              By the time we pick up the pilots, too long.

                           CHRISTOF
              We have to stop him for his own good.
              Turn him back with the elements.

                           SIMEON
                      (hesitant)
              There's no rescue boat in the area.  He
              won't know what to do.

                           MOSES
                      (trying to appeal to Christof's
                      sense of reason)
              For God's sake, Chris.  The whole world
              is watching.  We can't kill him in front
              of a live audience.

                           CHRISTOF
              He was born in front of a live audience.
                      (never taking his eyes from
                      the screen, reassuring)
              Don't worry, he's not willing to risk his life
              for the truth.  His doubts will turn him back.

     Simeon reluctantly turns to a panel of controls on the desk
     marked "WAVE", "WIND" and "RAIN".  After typing in a command, he
     winds the controls towards their maximum settings.

                           CHRISTOF
              Kill the lights.

     Chloe searches Christof's face, trying to find the man in whom
     she has believed for so long.


     EXT.  ATLANTIC OCEAN.  DAY.

     Darkness suddenly descends as storm clouds roll towards Truman's
     boat at an alarming speed.  High winds buffet the boat.  TRUMAN
     fights the wheel.  Hurricane force winds shake the masts and
     keel, ripping the sails to shreds.

     The picture of Sylvia is torn from the compass and lost to the
     sea.  His "HOW TO SAIL" book skids off the deck.

     Truman takes a rope from beneath the wheel house and lashes
     himself to the wheel to secure himself on board.

                           TRUMAN
                      (shouting above the storm)
              I'm coming to find you Sylvia!  I'm making
              myself deaf!
                      (screaming up to the sky)
              You're going to have to kill me!  Come on!

     Monstrous waves continually submerge the deck.  Truman continues
     to head into the teeth of the gale.


     INT.  CONTROL ROOM.  DAY.

     In contrast to his panic-stricken COLLEAGUES, CHRISTOF gives an
     outward appearance of calm.  However a bead of sweat appearing
     at his temple betrays him.

                           SIMEON
                      (agitated)
              It's not working.  He can sail that thing!

                           ROMAN
              How can he sail?!  He's in insurance!  He
              hasn't set foot on a boat since he was seven!

                           MOSES
                      (to Christof)
              On the behalf of the studio, I demand you
              cease transmission.

                           CHRISTOF
                      (defiant, to Operators)
              Keep running!
                      (to Moses)
              I take full responsibility.
                      (to Operator in front of radar-style screen)
              How close?

                           OPERATOR
              Very close.

                           CHRISTOF
              Capsize him!  Tip him over!

                           CHLOE
                      (unable to contain herself
                      any longer, entreating him)
              You can't!  He's tied himself to the wheel.
              He'll drown!

                           SIMEON
                      (staring at Truman on the monitor,
                      becoming affected by his display of courage)
              He doesn't care...

                           CHLOE
                      (to Christof, lunging for the control panel)
              You lied, you hypocrite!  The only way he can
              leave, is dead!

     Chloe lunges for the control panel but Christof throws her to
     the floor.

                           CHRISTOF
                      (enraged)
              Do it!

     All eyes turn in Christof's direction, as he confirms Chloe's
     accusation.

                           SIMEON
                      (staring at the On-Air monitor, numb)
              It's too late...


     EXT.  ATLANTIC OCEAN.  DAY.

     TRUMAN appears to be losing his fight against the storm,
     each successive breaker taking its toll on his body, sapping
     his strength, his bindings the only thing holding him upright,
     his head slumps, the wheel goes loose in his grasp, spinning
     out of control.  His will, draining away.

     As he is about to be overcome by the next wave, he thrusts his
     arm into the handles of the spinning wheel.  He cries out in
     pain at the blow to his forearm but succeeds in halting the
     wheel.  He braces for one last wave.

     But the wave does not come.  A strange phenomenon is occurring
     in the ocean.  A distinct division has appeared in the ocean
     swell.  Between the large rolling waves lies a corridor of
     calmer water, several hundred yards wide, a curious escape lane.

     The wind and the rain are also subsiding, the darkness lifting.
     Truman steers his vessel down this "sea-lane".

     After some time, several large, dark shapes emerge on the
     horizon.  Land?  Islands?  As Truman steers towards the nearest
     shape, he discovers what is behind the peculiar wave formations.
     It is certainly not the moon.

     The dark shape is a huge iron roller, only half of which is
     exposed above the surface of the sea.  The ocean swell is being
     caused by the roller slowly turning, mechanically-driven on
     either end by massive steel arms pumping from the sea bed.
     In fact there are rollers spaced four hundred yards apart in
     both directions along the horizon as far as the eye can see,
     the calm sea-lanes formed by the gaps between the rollers.

     Truman's boat is dwarfed by the gigantic machines.  The exposed
     half of each roller, the height of a ten story building, its
     length equivalent to several football fields.  The massive arms
     perpetually churn.

     Truman's face is thrown into shadow as the boat slips quietly
     past the giant rotating drum.  The water beyond the rollers is
     dead calm.  Truman stares ahead desperately trying to focus his
     eyes.

     But if the sight of the wave machines was difficult to
     comprehend, it pales in comparison with the next sight that
     greets him.  His boat is drifting inexorably, on a slow
     collision course with the sky.  That infinitely receding horizon
     line recedes no more.

     The sea really does meet the sky.  The join is only too
     apparent.  Looming above him out of the sea is a cyclorama of
     colossal dimensions.  The sky is nothing but a painted backdrop.
     Truman looks upward, straining his eyes to see the top of the
     sky, but it curves away at a steep angle beyond his sight.

     The bow of the boat comes to rest against the sky, bumping
     gently into its latex surface.  Truman unties his bindings
     and stumbles across the deck to the side rail.  Clinging to the
     rail with one hand, he tentatively reaches out towards the
     painted cyclorama.  He touches the sky.

     He feels the surface, puts both terrified hands against it.
     Hie eyes well up with tears.  He presses his distraught face
     into it.  He screams at the top of his voice.  No words.  A
     primal scream.  A pained, animal howl.


     INT.  CONTROL ROOM.  DUSK.

     CHRISTOF and his PRODUCTION STAFF take in Truman's reaction
     in silence.


     INT/EXT.  BARROOM/ELECTRONICS STORE/HOME.  DUSK.

     TRUMAN's cry echos around bars, offices, shops, homes and
     streets - wherever a television is to be found.  No VIEWER
     speaks.  They are stunned to silence, many teary eyed.


     EXT.  CYCLORAMA.  DUSK.

     As the boat drifts alongside the seemingly never-ending curve
     of the cyclorama, TRUMAN's attention is drawn to an outline in
     the otherwise flawless backdrop.  He clambers to the prow of the
     boat.

     There, camoflaged in the painted skyscape just above the water
     line, is a door.  Truman grabs hold of the recessed doorhandle
     and halts the drifting boat.  He stands in front of the door and
     closes his eyes in a silent prayer.

     He opens the door in the sky and steps through.


     INT/EXT.  VIEWERS.  DUSK.

     Spontaneous cheers and shouts of joy erupt from VIEWERS in their
     various locations - bars, homes and offices.  Strangers hug each
     other and dance in celebration.


     INT.  CONTROL ROOM.  DUSK.

     Even the cynical VIDEO OPERATOR jumps out of his seat - for the
     first time in the film - and lets out a joyous whoop, forgetting
     himself for a moment, caught up in the drama.

                           OPERATOR
              Yeah!

     Self-conscious, he takes his seat again almost immediately.  His
     COLLEAGUES are transfixed by the live on-air monitor continuing
     to play its only available shot, the open door in the sky -
     Truman out of view.


     INT.  SOUNDSTAGE.  DUSK.

     TRUMAN finds himself on a small metal landing.  A steel ladder
     rises above him to the height of "sky", the soundstage roof, so
     high as to be barely visible.  The rungs also continue downward,
     the depth of the "ocean-bed", to a studio floor far below.

     Truman turns and looks back through the door he has just
     entered.  Unsecured, the Santa Maria is beginning to drift away.
     The sea he has feared since childhood, is nothing but an
     enormous tank.  The sky, a massive cyclorama.  New York City, an
     elaborate set.  And it is all housed within an impossibly large
     soundstage.

     Truman makes no effort to save the boat.  He shuts the door to
     his world.  A sign on the back of the door reads, "CLOSED SET.
     No Unauthorized Access."  Gradually he becomes aware of another
     strange phenomenon taking place in the soundstage.  All around
     him, thousands of light fixtures mounted in the cyclorama to
     masquerade as stars, are slowly illuminating - switched on by an
     automatic timer.  (The light fixtures match the one that almost
     struck Truman's car at the beginning of the film.)

     By artificial starlight, Truman begins his long descent of the
     step ladder.  Below, a studio tram makes its way along the
     soundstage perimeter, on the last tour of the day.


     INT.  STUDIO TRAM.  DUSK.

     As he drives, a well-scrubbed, young TOUR GUIDE delivers his
     tired commentary into a microphone for the thousandth time to
     the half-full tram of STUDIO VISITORS.

                           GUIDE
              ...the soundstage roof houses over eight
              hundred thousand lights of varying intensities
              to faithfully recreate the constellations...

     However, the passengers are paying less attention than usual.
     They stare, perplexed, at the television monitor above the
     Guide's head, continuing to play the show's only available shot
     of the open door in the sky.


     INT.  SOUNDSTAGE.  DUSK.

     TRUMAN suddenly steps in front of the tram.  The TOUR GUIDE
     stands on the brakes, tram lurching to a stop.  The Guide looks
     from Truman's haunted face to the monitor, hardly able to
     believe his eyes.

     Truman leaps on board, pressing his flare gun into the side of
     the guide's head.

                           TRUMAN
                      (to the shocked passengers)
              Nobody move!
                      (to the guide)
              Drive!

     The terrified Guide pulls jerkily away in the tram, resuming the
     tour.

                           TRUMAN
                      (to the guide, gesturing to the microphone)
              Keep talking.  Say whatever you say!

     The Guide hesitantly resumes his commentary into his microphone.

                           GUIDE
               Er,...the ocean tank contains over six hundred
               and fifty million gallons of man-made salt
               water, temperature-controlled...

     Truman's attention drifts to the logo on the side of the tram -
     "TRUMAN STUDIO TOUR".  He is suddenly aware of the tourists
     gawking at him.

                           TRUMAN
                      (to TOURIST, camcorder around his neck)
              Act normal!  Keep filming!

     Truman ducks out of sight as a fleet of STUDIO SECURITY CARS
     speeds towards the tram.  But they streak past, on their way to
     the site of Truman's escape.  As he tentatively gets back to his
     feet, Truman finds a CHILD standing in front of him with an
     autograph book.

                           CHILD
              Please, Mister Truman.

     On the child's T-shirt, a large photograph of Truman's face.


     INT.  CONTROL ROOM.  DUSK.

     CHRISTOF talks anxiously on the phone, unaware of a shift in the
     balance of power taking place behind his back.  The executives,
     MOSES and ROMAN are huddling with SIMEON, making him an offer he
     appears to welcome.

                           CHRISTOF
                      (into the phone)
              What do you mean he's not there?  We can't
              have lost him again.

     On the far side of the control room, behind a huge curved
     glass wall on a mezzanine floor, a studio tour tram passes by.


     INT.  STUDIO TRAM.  DUSK.

     TRUMAN crouches behind a seat on the tram, flare gun still
     trained on the guide's head, taking in the gigantic video wall
     displaying pictures from every facet of his life.

     His heart sinks as he spies the monitor revealing the private
     spot where he and SYLVIA met.

                           GUIDE
              ...on your left, the control room where the
              angles are selected and the actors receive
              direction.  Of course, the one place we can't
              show you is the story department.  There is none.
                      (hesitant)
              ...Truman writes the script...

     From Truman's POV we watch CHLOE approach CHRISTOF.  She has a
     pure white envelope in her hands.  As Christof looks up to
     acknowledge her, he almost makes eye contact with Truman on the
     tram.


     INT.  STUDIO LOT.  DUSK.

     Still inside the studio complex, the tram enters the courtyard
     of an indoor shopping mall.  Truman gift shops.

     TRUMAN is momentarily frozen by the sight of window displays
     full of books and board games carrying his likeness with titles
     such as, "TrumanTrivia".  Video cassettes offering "Truman
     Highlights".  His face emblazoned on T-shirts, caps, coffee mugs
     and posters.  Even Truman Dolls and a model of his decaying
     Oldsmobile are offered for sale.

     The tram slows to a stop behind other trams at the tour's end.
     STUDIO POLICE are checking the disembarking PASSENGERS.  Truman,
     using the TOUR GUIDE as a shield, also exits the tram.

                           GUIDE
                      (frightened for his life)
              Here he is!  It's him!

     Truman contemptuously backhands the Guide across the face and
     makes a run for it.  The guards give chase.  Truman runs into a
     lookalike mannequin, dressed in a brown suit identical to his
     own, promoting "TrumanWear".  He pulls his "double" to the
     ground to block the guards' path.

     Sprinting along a featureless corridor, he reaches a dead end.

                           GUARD
                      (into radio)
              We've got him trapped.

     Truman enters a doorway marked "NO ENTRY" to find a stairway
     leading upwards.  He takes the stairs three at a time.

     The footsteps and shouts of the guards not far behind.  Flight
     after flight of stairs.  At one point, he loses his grip on the
     stair's railing and his gun falls from his hand, clattering for
     an eternity down the stairwell.

     He finally emerges on a landing.  Lungs bursting.  One more
     door.  He tries the handle.  It opens.


     EXT.  SOUNDSTAGE.  DUSK.

     TRUMAN finds himself on the roof of the soundstage.  Outside.
     Really outside for the first time in his life.

     He looks frantically around him.  Nowhere to hide.  The
     soundstage stretches for miles in both directions as far as the
     eye can see, an interminable expanse of roof.

     Facing him, a colossal Burbank.  Several other soundstages
     almost as gigantic as his own.  The palm trees lining the
     streets, dwarfed by the mammoth barns.

     The Hollywood Freeway in the distance, carrying its ribbons of
     traffic, twenty lanes wide.  Gargantuan office buildings
     eclipse any skyscraper Truman has ever known.

     Directly below him, a dizzying drop to the studio lot and its
     arched entranceway.

     Above him, a large yellow moon in the twilight sky.  The real
     moon, not the planetarium projection he has been contemplating
     for the last thirty-four years.

     Truman wheels around, suddenly realizing he is not alone.  A
     GROUP has emerged on the rooftop, standing still and silent
     in a semi-circle, cutting off any escape.

     Along with the STUDIO GUARDS, keeping their distance in the
     background, are CHLOE, SIMEON, and the two studio executives,
     MOSES and ROMAN.  In front of them, the co-stars in his life -
     MARLON, MERYL, sister RAQUEL, mother AUDREY and supposedly dead
     father KIRK.  No one moves or speaks as Truman scans the
     familiar faces.  Marlon, in particular, cannot look him in the
     eye.

     Truman's gaze finally falls on the white-haired old man standing
     at the head of the group.  CHRISTOF.  He approaches Truman
     alone, carrying a white envelope, calling his name the way a
     father calls to a son.

                           CHRISTOF
              Truman...

     Truman seems to sense the significance Christof has had in his
     life, drawn to and repelled by him at the same time.  As they
     stand together looking into each other's eyes for the first
     time, they seem to be the only two figures on the roof.  For a
     moment Truman averts his gaze to the night sky.

                           TRUMAN
                      (quietly, half to himself,
                      half to Christof)
              Even the stars I wished on...

     As Truman turns his attention back to Christof, he suddenly
     lunges at him, catching him off-guard, the envelope slipping
     from Christof's hand.  With a strength he never knew he
     possessed, Truman forces Christof to the edge of the soundstage
     roof, threatening to throw them both off his counterfeit world.

     Christof clings desperately to Truman to save himself.  The
     studio guards dare not move.

                           CHRISTOF
                      (staring into the chasm,
                      remaining eerily calm)
              You won't do it, Truman.  I've watched you
              your whole life.

                           TRUMAN
                      (meeting Christof's gaze)
              You never had a camera in my head.

     Suddenly the doubts flood into Christof's eyes, fearing he
     has misjudged Truman, fearing for his life.

                           TRUMAN
                      (incensed)
              Something was real!
                      (a terrifying anguish)
              Something had to be real!

     It takes all of Truman's will not to hurl the old man into the
     abyss.  Christof, petrified, looks to the pristine, white
     envelope that lies half over the edge of the roof, glinting in
     the moonlight.

     Truman follows Christof's gaze.  Contemptuously tossing Christof
     aside, he retrieves the envelope.  Christof crawls to safety,
     thankful to still be alive, suddenly appearing very small and
     insignificant.

     But Christof and the other figures on the rooftop no longer
     exist in Truman's mind.  Truman gazes at his name for a long
     moment, handwritten on the envelope in blue ink, then carefully
     breaks the seal.  Truman allows the sole item in the envelope to
     be slowly revealed.  A photograph.  A close up of SYLVIA's face
     including her eyes, mouth and that perfect, ever-elusive nose.

     A serenity comes over Truman.  He lifts up his eyes to the
     mountains on the far horizon.  As he stands on the very edge of
     the soundstage roof without fear, clutching the photograph, we
     commence a long, slow pull-back.

     Truman is unaware that directly beneath his feet on the wall
     of the enormous soundstage is a billboard acrrying a gigantic
     picture of his face and proclaiming, "TRUMAN - Total Record of a
     Human Life.  34TH GREAT YEAR!"

     We continue to pull back until Truman is nothing but a speck on
     top of the soundstage so large it never completely clears frame.


     A MONTAGE OF VARIOUS LOCATIONS

     The two OLD WOMEN in the living room, the NIGHTWATCHMEN, the
     two YOUNG MEN with the Watchman TV, the PATRONS in the bar,
     PASSERS-BY outside an electronics store are all captivated by
     their television sets.

     We focus on the screen of a television.  A small FEMALE BABY
     sucks a toy on a blanket in the backyard of Truman's old
     suburban home in Queens, the lawn he mowed for ten years of his
     life.  The infant's doting parents, MARLON and the new actress
     VIVIEN, enter frame and begin to fuss over the child.  A border
     around the action on the screen announces, "ZOE - Total
     Record Of a Human Life".

     Suddenly we see a child's hand on top of the television screen.
     A BABY stands unsteadily, supporting herself against the
     television set in Sylvia's house.

     TRUMAN bends down and picks up his baby, tossing her into the
     air, much to the child's delight.  Truman dwells for a moment
     on the mirror-image scene on the television before very
     deliberately shutting it off.

     SYLVIA joins Truman and their daughter.  Together, they exit
     the beach house.  We follow them as they make their way onto the
     deserted sand and down towards the sea.

     FADE OUT






   

Truman Show, The



Writers :   Andrew Niccol
Genres :   Comedy  Drama  Fantasy  Sci-Fi


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