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"SCHINDLER'S LIST"
BY
Steven Zaillian
Final Draft
IN BLACK AND WHITE:
TRAIN WHEELS grinding against track, slowing. FOLDING TABLE
LEGS scissoring open. The LEVER of a train door being pulled.
NAMES on lists on clipboards held by clerks moving alongside
the tracks.
CLERKS (V.O.)
...Rossen... Lieberman... Wachsberg...
BEWILDERED RURAL FACES coming down off the passenger train.
FORMS being set out on the folding tables. HANDS straightening
pens and pencils and ink pads and stamps.
CLERKS (V.O.)
...When your name is called go over
there... take this over to that
table...
TYPEWRITER KEYS rapping a name onto a list. A FACE. KEYS
typing another name. Another FACE.
CLERKS (V.O.)
...you抮e in the wrong line, wait
over there... you, come over here...
A MAN is taken from one long line and led to the back of
another. A HAND hammers a rubber stamp at a form. Tight on a
FACE. KEYS type another NAME. Another FACE. Another NAME.
CLERKS (V.O.)
...Biberman... Steinberg...
Chilowitz...
As a hand comes down stamping a GRAY STRIPE across a
registration card, there is absolute silence... then MUSIC,
the Hungarian love song, "Gloomy Sunday," distant... and the
stripe bleeds into COLOR, into BRIGHT YELLOW INK.
INT. HOTEL ROOM - CRACOW, POLAND - NIGHT
The song plays from a radio on a rust-stained sink.
The light in the room is dismal, the furniture cheap. The
curtains are faded, the wallpaper peeling... but the clothes
laid out across the single bed are beautiful.
The hands of a man button the shirt, belt the slacks. He
slips into the double-breasted jacket, knots the silk tie,
folds a handkerchief and tucks it into the jacket pocket,
all with great deliberation.
A bureau. Some currency, cigarettes, liquor, passport. And
an elaborate gold-on-black enamel Hakenkreuz (or swastika)
which the gentleman pins to the lapel of his elegant dinner
jacket.
He steps back to consider his reflection in the mirror. He
likes what he sees: Oskar Schindler -- salesman from Zwittau --
looking almost reputable in his one nice suit.
Even in this awful room.
INT. NIGHTCLUB - CRACOW, POLAND - NIGHT
A spotlight slicing across a crowded smoke-choked club to a
small stage where a cabaret performer sings.
It抯 September, 1939. General Sigmund List's armored
divisions, driving north from the Sudetenland, have taken
Cracow, and now, in this club, drinking, socializing,
conducting business, is a strange clientele: SS officers and
Polish cops, gangsters and girls and entrepreneurs, thrown
together by the circumstance of war.
Oskar Schindler, drinking alone, slowly scans the room, the
faces, stripping away all that抯 unimportant to him, settling
only on details that are: the rank of this man, the higher
rank of that one, money being slipped into a hand.
WAITER SETS DOWN DRINKS
in front of the SS officer who took the money. A lieutenant,
he抯 at a table with his girlfriend and a lower-ranking
officer.
WAITER
From the gentleman.
The waiter is gesturing to a table across the room where
Schindler, seemingly unaware of the SS men, drinks with the
best-looking woman in the place.
LIEUTENANT
Do I know him?
His sergeant doesn抰. His girlfriend doesn't.
LIEUTENANT
Find out who he is.
The sergeant makes his way over to Schindler's table.
There's a handshake and introductions before -- and the
lieutenant, watching, can't believe it -- his guy accepts
the chair Schindler's dragging over.
The lieutenant waits, but his man doesn't come back; he's
forgotten already he went there for a reason. Finally, and
it irritates the SS man, he has to get up and go over there.
LIEUTENANT
Stay here.
His girlfriend watches him cross toward Schindler's table.
Before he even arrives, Schindler is up and berating him for
leaving his date way over there across the room, waving at
the girl to come join them, motioning to waiter to slide
some tables together.
WAITERS ARRIVE WITH PLATES OF CAVIAR
and another round of drinks. The lieutenant makes a
halfhearted move for his wallet.
LIEUTENANT
Let me get this one.
SCHINDLER
No, put it away, put it away.
Schindler's already got his money out. Even as he's paying,
his eyes are working the room, settling on a table where a
girl is declining the advances of two more high-ranking SS
men.
A TABLECLOTH BILLOWS
as a waiter lays it down on another table that's been added
to the others. Schindler seats the SS officers on either
side of his own "date" --
SCHINDLER
What are you drinking, gin?
He motions to a waiter to refill the men's drinks, and,
returning to the head of the table(s), sweeps the room again
with his eyes.
ROAR OF LAUGHTER
erupts from Schindler's party in the corner. Nobody's having
a better time than those people over there. His guests have
swelled to ten or twelve -- SS men, Polish cops, girls --
and he moves among them like the great entertainer he is,
making sure everybody's got enough to eat and drink.
Here, closer, at this table across the room, an SS officer
gestures to one of the SS men who an hour ago couldn't get
the girl to sit at his table. The guy comes over.
SS OFFICER 1
Who is that?
SS OFFICER 2
(like everyone knows)
That's Oskar Schindler. He's an old
friend of... I don't know, somebody's.
GIRL WITH A BIG CAMERA
screws in a flashbulb. She lifts the unwieldy thing to her
face and focuses.
As the bulb flashes, the noise of the club suddenly drops
out, and the moment is caught in BLACK and WHITE: Oskar
Schindler, surrounded by his many new friends, smiling
urbanely.
EXT. SQUARE - CRACOW - DAY
A photograph of a face on a work card, BLACK and WHITE. A
typed name, black and white. A hand affixes a sticker to the
card and it saturates with COLOR, DEEP BLUE.
People in long lines, waiting. Others near idling trucks,
waiting. Others against sides of buildings, waiting. Clerks
with clipboards move through the crowds, calling out names.
CLERKS
Groder... Gemeinerowa... Libeskind...
INT. APARTMENT BUILDING - CRACOW - DAY
The party pin in his lapel catches the light in the hallway.
SCHINDLER
Stern?
Behind Schindler, the door to another apartment closes softly.
A radio, somewhere, is suddenly silenced.
SCHINDLER
Are you Itzhak Stern?
At the door of this apartment, a man with the face and manner
of a Talmudic scholar, finally nods in resignation, like his
number has just come up.
STERN
I am.
Schindler offers a hand. Confused, Stern tentatively reaches
for it, and finds his own grasped firmly.
INT. STERN'S APARTMENT - DAY
Settled into an overstuffed chair in a simple apartment,
Schindler pours a shot of cognac from a flask.
SCHINDLER
There's a company you did the books
for on Lipowa Street, made what,
pots and pans?
Stern stares at the cognac Schindler's offering him. He
doesn't know who this man is, or what he wants.
STERN
(pause)
By law, I have to tell you, sir, I'm
a Jew.
Schindler looks puzzled, then shrugs, dismissing it.
SCHINDLER
All right, you've done it -- good
company, you think?
He keeps holding out the drink. Stern declines it with a
slow shake of his head.
STERN
It did all right.
Schindler nods, takes out a cigarette case.
SCHINDLER
I don't know anything about
enamelware, do you?
He offers Stern a cigarette. Stern declines again.
STERN
I was just the accountant.
SCHINDLER
Simple engineering, though, wouldn't
you think? Change the machines around,
whatever you do, you could make other
things, couldn't you?
Schindler lowers his voice as if there could possibly be
someone else listening in somewhere.
SCHINDLER
Field kits, mess kits...
He waits for a reaction, and misinterprets Stern's silence
for a lack of understanding.
SCHINDLER
Army contracts.
But Stern does understand. He understands too well.
Schindler grins good-naturedly.
SCHINDLER
Once the war ends, forget it, but
for now it's great, you could make a
fortune. Don't you think?
STERN
(with an edge)
I think most people right now have
other priorities.
Schindler tries for a moment to imagine what they could
possibly be. He can't.
SCHINDLER
Like what?
Stern smiles despite himself. The man's manner is so simple,
so in contrast to his own and the complexities of being a
Jew in occupied Cracow in 1939. He really doesn't know. Stern
decides to end the conversation.
STERN
Get the contracts and I'm sure you'll
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