by: Christopher Wehner

Dialogue of Eszterhas, Darabont and Tarantino. Part I: Eszterhas & Basic Instinct

The completion of a nine-year vision describes what Frank Darabont accomplished with his screenplay and movie, The Shawshank Redemption. Darabont was one of those nine-years-in-the-making "over-night" success stories in Hollywood. As the writer of Nightmare on Elm Street 3: Dream Warriors, The Blob, The Fly II, and writing for television as well; he wrote seven episodes of The Young Indiana Jones Chronicles. Darabont displayed some good writing, but no one could have guessed what he would accomplish in 1994.

Darabont's vision all started the day he read Stephen King's Novella, Rita Hayworth & The Shawshank Redemption. "It was a story that captured my imagination and sent my heart soaring. It also instilled in me the hope that, someday, I might be lucky enough to put it on film." (1).

The key word is "hope" and the vision he had to bring it to script and screen is remarkable. Today's leading screenwriters all agree that "theme" is the one element that every good story must start with. (2) This is contrary to what some "experts" may say. Yes, the story must be there, but a story's theme is what holds good ones together in my opinion.

Without the underlining "theme" of the film, Shawshank would basically be a "jail-break" movie, big deal...been there, seen it. But, the theme doesn't allow this to happen. The power of it and the vision Darabont has helps to keep the story interesting, powerful and in the end moving. The story is so complete, the ending is so well written, and so moving. I urge everyone to buy the script, and rent the movie. Now, my notes on The Shawshank Redemption:

Frank Darabont is only a high-school graduate... no college and no film or screenwriting schooling (to the best of my knowledge). He writes with a flare and richness that every graduate of UCLA and USC can only hope for. (This is not intended as a knock on these two fine institutions).

It took him nine-years of developing his craft, learning about life, studying the art of directing, and then of course to make The Shawshank Redemption. Darabont like Eric Roth, and others, is a symbol of what truly is needed for greatness to shine; and that is "experience" and "age" in my opinion.

For me the screenplay evokes emotion, and lots of it. Even if what we're reading or thinking is disturbing, at least we're responding to the material. And Darabont is able to hold everything together with the narrative, and with Red's voice over. It's a calming presence, and helps lift certain scenes to higher levels.

I'm going to share two of my favorite scenes from Shawshank:

This first scene captures the beauty of Darabont's screenplay, toward the end of this scene it's like poetry. A master of words and always in complete control of his dialogue. Darabont captures not only our attention in this scene, but our hearts as well. This is one of the most powerful scenes I've ever read, or seen on film.

EXT - LICENSE PLATE FACTORY - DAY (1949)

A tar-cooker bubbles and smokes, TWO CONS dip up a bucket of
tar and tie a rope to the handle. The rope goes taught. CAMERA
FOLLOWS the bucket of tar up the side of the building to ---

(Note: Please remember that Darabont uses "camera 
directions" here only because he's directing it. It's a "shooting 
script")

THE ROOF

-- where it is relayed to the work detail. The Men are dipping 
big Padd brushes and spreading the tar. ANGLE OVER to 
Byron Hadley bitching sourly to his fellow guards:

		HADLEY
	...so this shithead lawyer calls
	long distance from Texas, and 
	he says, Byron Hadley, I say, 
	yeah. He says, sorry to inform 
	you, but your brother just died.

		YOUNGBLOOD
	Damn, Byron. Sorry to hear that.

		HADLEY
	I ain't. He was an asshole. Run off
	years ago, family ain't heard of him
	since. Figured him for dead anyway.
	So this lawyer prick says, your
	brother died a rich man. Oil wells
	and shit, close to a million bucks.
	Jesus, it's friggin incredible how
	lucky some assholes get.

		TROUT
	A million bucks? Jeez-Louise! You
	get any of that?

		HADLEY
	Thirty five thousand. That's what
	he left me.
	
		TROUT
	Dollars? Holy Shit, that's great!
	Like winnin' a lottery...
	(off Hadley's shitty look)
	...ain't it?
	
		HADLEY
	Dumbshit. What do you figger the
	government's gonna do to me?
	Take a big wet bite out of my ass,
	is what.
	
		TROUT
	Oh. Hadn't thought of that.

		HADLEY
	Maybe leave me enough to buy a 
	new car with. Then what happens?
	You pay tax on the car. Repairs and
	maintainance. Goddamn kids pesterin'
	you to take 'em for a ride...
	
		MERT
	And drive it, if they're old enough.
	
		HADLEY
	That's right, wanting to drive it,
	wanting to learn on it, f'chrissake!
	Then at the end of the year, if you
	figoured the tax wrong, they make
	you pay out of your own pocket.
	Uncle Sam puts his hand in your
	shirt and squeezes your tit till
	it's purple. Always get the short
	end. That's a fact.
	(spits over the side)
	Some brother. Shit.

The prisoners keep spreading tar, eyes on their work.

		HEYWOOD
	Poor Byron. What terrible fuckin'
	luck. Imagine inheriting thirty
	five thousand dollars.
	
		RED
	Crying shame. Some folks got it
	awful bad.

Red glances over -- and is shocked to see Andy standing up,
listening to the guards talk.

		RED
	Hey, you nuts? Keep your eyes on
	your pail!

Any tosses his padd in the bucket and strolls toward Hadley.

		RED
	Andy! Come back! Shit!
	
		SNOOZE
	What's he doing?
	
		FLOYD
	Gettin' himself killed.
	
		RED
	God Damn It...
	
		HEYWOOD
	Just keep spreadin' tar...

The guards stiffen at Andy's approach. Youngblood's hand goes
to his holster. The Tower guards CLICK-CLACK their rifle bolts.
Hadley turns, stupefied to find Andy there.

		ANDY
	Mr. Hadley. Do you trust your wife?
	
		HADLEY
	That's funny. You're gonna look
	funnier suckin' my dick with no
	fuckin teeth.
	
		ANDY
	What I mean is, do you think she'd
	go behind your back? Try to
	hamstring you?
	
		HADLEY
	That's itI Step aside, Mert. This
	fucker's havin' hisself an accident.

Hadley grabs Andy's collar and propels him violently toward
the edge of the roof. The cons furiously keep spreading tar.

		HEYWOOD
	Oh God, he's gonna do it, he's 
	gonna throw him off the roof...
	
		SNOOZE
	Oh shit, oh fuck, oh Jesus...
	
		ANDY
	Because if you do trust her, there's
	no reason in the world you can't
	keep every cent of that money.

Hadley abrutly jerks Andy to a stop right at the edge. In
fact, Andy's past the edge, beyond his balance, shoetips
scraping the roof. The only thing between him and an ugly
drop to the concrete is Hadley's grip on the front of his shirt.

		HADLEY
	You better start making sense.
	
		ANDY
	If you want to keep that money, all
	of it, just give it to your wife. See
	the IRS allows you a one-time-only
	gift to your spouse. It's good up to 
	sixty thousands dollars.
	
		HADLEY
	Naw, that ain't right. Tax free?
	
		ANDY
	Tax free. IRS can't touch one cent.

The cons are pausing work, stunned by this business discussion.

		ANDY
	...or come to think of it, I suppose
	I could set it up for you. That would
	save you some money. I'll write down
	some forms you need, you can pick
	them up, and I'll prepare them for your
	signature...nearly free of charge.
	(off Hadley's look)
	I'd only ask three beers apiece for my
	co-workers, if that seems fair.
	
		TROUT
	(guffawing)
	Co-workers! Get him! That's rich,
	ain't it? Co-workers...

Hadley freezes him with a look. Andy presses on:

		ANDY
	I think a man working outdoors
	feels more like a man if he can
	have a bottle of suds. That's only
	my opinion.

The convicts stand gaping, all pretense of work gone. They
look like they've been pole-axed. Hadley shoots them a look.
	
		HADLEY
	What are you jimmies starin' at?
	Back to work, goddamn it!

(EXT - LICENSE PLATE FACTORY)

		RED (V.O.)
	And that's how it came to pass,
	that on the second-to-last day of
	the job, the convict crew that
	tarred the plate factory roof in the
	spring of '49...
	...wound up sitting in a row at ten
	in the morning, drinking icy cold
	Black Label Beer courtesy of the
	hardest screw that ever walked
	a turn at Shawshank State Prison.

		HADLEY
	Drink up while it's cold ladies!
	
		RED
	The colossal prick even managed
	to sound magnanimous.

Red knocks back another sip, enjoying the bitter cold on his
tongue and the warm sun on his face.

		RED (V.O.)
	We sat and drank with the sun on
	our shoulders, and felt like free men.
	We could'a been tarring the roof of
	one of our own houses. We were the
	Lords of all Creation.

He glances over to Andy squatting apart form the others.
	
		RED (V.O.)
	As for Andy, he spent that break
	hunkered in the shade, a strange
	little smile on his face, watching
	us drink his beer.
	
		HEYWOOD
	(approaches with a beer)
	Here's a cold one,  Andy.
	
		ANDY
	No thanks. I gave up drinking.

Heywood drifts back to the others, giving them a look.

		RED (V.O.)
	You could argue he'd done it to
	curry favor with the gaurds. Or
	maybe make a few friends among
	us cons. Me, I think he did it just to
	feel normal again...if only for a
	short while...

		ANDY (V.O.)
	Dear Red. If you're reading this,
	you've gotten out. And if you've
	come this far, maybe you're willing
	to come a little further. You remember
	the name of the town don't you? I
	could use a good man to help me
	get my project on wheels. I'll keep
	an eye out for you and the chessboard
	ready.
	(beat)
	Remeber, Red. Hope is a good thing,
	maybe the best of things, and no good
	thing ever dies. I will be hoping that 
	this letter finds you, and finds you well.
	Your friend. Andy.

By now, tears are spilling silently down Red's cheeks. He
opens the other envelope and fans a stack of new fifty-dollar
bills. Twenty of them. A thousand dollars.

INT - GREYHOUND BUS STATION - DAY (1967)

TRACKING SHOT reveals a long line of people at the counter.

		RED (V.O)
	For the second time in my life, I
	am, guilty of committing a crime...
	...Parole violation. I doubt they'll
	toss up any roadblocks for that.
	Not for an old crook like me.

(now riding on) THE BUS

		RED (V.O.)
	I find I am so excited I can barely
	sit still or hold a thought in my head.
	I think it is the excitment only a free
	man can feel, a free man at the start
	of a long journey whose conclusion
	is undcertain...
	...I hope I can make it across the
	border. I hope to see my friend and
	shake his hand. I hope the Pacific
	is as blue as it has been in my dreams.
	(beat)
	I hope. (3)