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17 INT -- CELLBLOCK FIVE -- NIGHT (1947) 17
Three tiers to a side, concrete and steel, gray and imposing.
Andy and the others are marched in, still naked, carrying their
clothes and Bibles. The CONS in their cells greet them with TAUNTS,
JEERS, and LAUGHTER. One by one, the new men are shown to their
cells and locked in with a CLANG OF STEEL.
RED (V.O.)
The first night's the toughest, no doubt about it. They march
you in
naked as the day you're born, fresh from a Bible reading, skin
burning
and half-blind from that delousing shit they throw on you...
Red watches from his cell, arms slung over the crossbars, cigarette
dangling from his fingers.
RED (V.O.)
...and when they put you in that cell, when those bars slam home,
that's when you know it's for real. Old life blown away in the
blink of
an eye...a long cold season in hell stretching out ahead...nothing
left but all the time in the world to think about it.
Red listens to the CLANGING below. He watches Andy and a few
others being brought up to the 2nd tier.
RED (V.O.)
Most new fish come close to madness the first night. Somebody
always breaks down crying. Happens every time. The only question
is, who's it gonna be?
Andy is led past and given a cell at the end of the tier.
RED (V.O.)
It's as good a thing to bet on as any, I guess. I had my money
on
Andy Dufresne...
18 INT -- ANDY'S CELL -- NIGHT (1947) 18
The bars slam home. Andy is alone in his cell, clutching his
clothes. He gazes around at his new surroundings, taking it in.
He slowly begins to dress himself...
19 EXT -- SHAWSHANK PRISON -- NIGHT (1947) 19
A malignant stone growth on the Maine landscape. The moon
hangs low and baleful in a dead sky. The headlight of a PASSING
TRAIN cuts through the night.
20 INT -- RED'S CELL -- NIGHT (1947) 20
Red lies on his bunk below us, tossing his baseball toward the
ceiling and catching it again. He pauses, listening. FOOTSTEPS
approach below, unhurried, echoing hollowly on stone.
21 INT -- CELLBLOCK FIVE -- NIGHT (1947) 21
LOW ANGLE. A CELLBLOCK GUARD strolls into frame.
GUARD
That's lights out! Good night, ladies.
The lights bump off in sequence. The guard exits, footsteps
echoing away. Darkness now. Silence. CAMERA CRANES UP the
tiers toward Red's cell.
RED (V.O.)
I remember my first night. Seems a long time ago now.
Red looms from the darkness, leans on the bars. Listens. Waits.
From somewhere below comes faint, ghastly tittering. VOICES drift
through the cellblock, taunting:
VARIOUS VOICES (O.S.)
Fishee fishee fisheeee...You're gonna like it here, new fish.
A
whooole lot...Make you wish your daddies never dicked your mommies...You
takin' this down, new fish? Gonna be a quiz later.
(somebody LAUGHS)
Sshhh. Keep it down. The screws'll hear...Fishee fishee fisheeee...
RED (V.O.)
The boys always go fishin' with first-timers...and they don't
quit till they reel someone in.
The VOICES keep on, sly and creepy in the dark...
22 INT -- VARIOUS CELLS -- NIGHT (1947) 22
thru thru 25
2g ...while the new cons go quietly crazy in their cells. One
man paces like a caged animal...another sits gnawing his cuticles
bloody...a third is weeping silently...a fourth is dry-heaving
into the toilet...
26 INT -- RED'S CELL -- NIGHT (1947) 26
Red waits at the bars. Smoking. Listening. He cranes his head,
peers down toward Andy's cell. Nothing. Not a peep.
HEYWOOD (O.S.)
Fat-Ass...oh, Faaaat-Ass. Talk to me, boy. I know you're in there.
I
can hear you breathin'. Now don't you listen to these nitwits,
hear?
27 INT -- FAT-ASS' CELL -- NIGHT (1947) 27
Fat-Ass is crying, trying not to hyperventilate.
HEYWOOD (O.S.)
This ain't such a bad place. I'll introduce you around, make you
feel
right at home. I know some big ol' bull queers who'd love to make
your acquaintance...especially that big white mushy butt of yours...
And that's it. Fat-Ass lets out a LOUD WAIL of despair:
FAT-ASS
OH GOD! I DON'T BELONG HERE! I
WANNA GO HOME!
28 INT -- HEYWOOD'S CELL -- NIGHT (1947) 28
HEYWOOD
AND IT'S FAT-ASS BY A NOSE.'
29 INT -- CELLBLOCK -- NIGHT (1947) 29
The place goes nuts. Fat-Ass throws himself screaming against
the bars. The entire block starts CHANTING:
VOICES
Fresh fish...fresh fish...fresh fish...fresh fish...
FAT-ASS
I WANNA GO HOME! I WANT MY MOTHER.'
VOICE (O.S.)
I had your mother! She wasn't that great!
The lights bump on. GUARDS pour in, led by Hadley himself.
HADLEY
What the Christ is this happy shit?
VOICE (O.S.)
He took the Lord's name in vain! I'm tellin' the warden!
HADLEY
(to the unseen wit)
You'll be tellin' him with my baton up your ass!
Hadley arrives at Fat-Ass' cell, bellowing through the bars:
HADLEY
What's your malfunction you fat fuckin' barrel of monkey-spunk?
FAT-ASS
PLEASE! THIS AIN'T RIGHT! I AIN'T SUPPOSED TO BE HERE! NOT ME!
HADLEY
I ain't gonna count to three! Not even to one! Now shut the fuck
up
'fore I sing you a lullabye!
Fat-Ass keeps blubbering and wailing. Total freak-out. Hadley
draws his baton, gestures to his men. Open it.
A GUARD unlocks the cell. Hadley pulls Fat-Ass out and starts
beating him with the baton, brutally raining blows. Fat-Ass falls,
tries to crawl.
The place goes dead silent. All we hear now is the dull
THWACK-THWACK-THWACK of the baton. Fat-ass passes out. Hadley
gets in a few more licks and finally stops.
HADLEY
Get this tub of shit down to the infirmary.
(peers around)
If I hear so much as a mouse fart in here the rest of the night,
by God and Sonny Jesus, you'll all visit the infirmary. Every
last motherfucker here.
The guards wrestle Fat-Ass onto a stretcher and carry him off.
FOOTSTEPS echo away. Lights off. Darkness again. Silence.
30 INT -- RED'S CELL -- NIGHT (1947) 30
Red stares through the bars at the main floor below, eyes riveted
to the small puddle of blood where Fat-Ass went down.
RED (V.O.)
His first night in the joint, Andy Dufresne cost me two packs
of
cigarettes. He never made a sound...
31 INT -- CELLBLOCK FIVE -- MORNING (1947) 31
LOUD BUZZER. The master locks are thrown -- KA-THUMP! The cons
step from their cells, lining the tiers. The GUARDS holler their
head-counts to the HEAD BULL, who jots on a clipboard. Red peers
at Andy, checking him out. Andy stands in line, collar buttoned,
hair combed.
32 INT -- MESS HALL -- MORNING (1947) 32
Andy goes through the breakfast line, gets a scoop of glop on
his tray. WE PAN ANDY through the noise and confusion...and discover
BOGS DIAMOND and ROOSTER MacBRIDE watching Andy go by. Bogs sizes
Andy up with a salacious gleam in his eye,
mutters something to Rooster. Rooster laughs.
Andy finds a table occupied by Red and his regulars, chooses
a spot at the end where nobody is sitting. Ignoring their stares,
he picks up his spoon -- and pauses, seeing something in his food.
He carefully fishes it out with his fingers.
It's a squirming maggot. Andy grimaces, unsure what to do with
it. BROOKS HATLEN is sitting closest to Andy. At age 65, he's
a senior citizen, a long-standing resident.
BROOKS
You gonna eat that?
ANDY
Hadn't planned on it.
BROOKS
You mind?
Andy passes the maggot to Brooks. Brooks examines it, rolling
it between his fingertips like a man checking out a fine cigar.
Andy is riveted with apprehension.
BROOKS
Mmm. Nice and ripe.
Andy can't bear to watch. Brooks opens up his sweater and feeds
the maggot to a baby crow nestled in an inside pocket. Andy breathes
a sigh of relief.
BROOKS
Jake says thanks. Fell out of his nest over by the plate shop.
I'm
lookin' after him till he's old enough to fly.
Andy nods, proceeds to eat. Carefully. Heywood approaches.
JIGGER
Oh, Christ, here he comes.
HEYWOOD
Mornin', boys. It's a fine mornin'. You know why it's fine?
Heywood plops his tray down, sits. The men start pulling out
cigarettes and handing them down.
HEYWOOD
That's right, send 'em all down. I wanna see 'em lined up in a
row,
pretty as a chorus line.
An impressive pile forms. Heywood bends down and inhales deeply,
smelling the aroma. Rapture.
FLOYD
Smell my ass...
HEYWOOD
Gee, Red. Terrible shame, your horse comin' in last and all. Hell,
I sure do love that horse of mine. I believe I owe that boy a
big sloppy kiss when I see him.
RED
Give him some'a your cigarettes instead, cheap bastard.
HEYWOOD
Say Tyrell, you pull infirmary duty this week? How's that winnin'
horse of mine, anyway?
TYRELL
Dead.
(the men fall silent)
Hadley busted his head pretty good. Doc already went home for
the
night. Poor bastard lay there till this morning. By then...
He shakes his head, turns back to his food. The silence mounts.
Heywood glances around. Men resume eating. Softly:
ANDY
What was his name?
HEYWOOD
What? What'd you say?
ANDY
I was wondering if anyone knew his name.
HEYWOOD
What the fuck you care, new fish?
(resumes eating)
Doesn't matter what his fuckin' name was. He's dead.
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