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luís soares

Blog do escritor Luís Soares

Michael Clayton - Cena de abertura. I/II

ARTHUR EDENS (V.O.)
...Michael. Dear, Michael. Nurse
Michael. Dr. Clayton. Secret Hero.
Keeper of the Hidden Sins. Of course
it’s you. Who else could they send?
Who else could be trusted? Smoke on
the horizon -- hole in the bucket --
voices crying from Milwaukee to
Manhattan, “Where’s our hero?”
“Where’s our Cleanser Of The Hidden
Sins?” And here you are, sleeves
rolled up, lips sealed -- broom --
dustbin -- bankroll at the ready!
Fifties, is it still fifties? When
you came to Boston, you remember?
God, you must’ve had a thousand of
them! The cash -- the smile -- the
quiet word in the corner -- of course
it’s you, Michael, who else could it
ever be? But Michael, please, before
you sweep, please just hear me out --
just try -- because it’s not like
Boston -- it’s not an episode --
relapse -- fuck up -- I’m begging
you, Michael, make believe it’s not
just madness, because it’s not just
madness --


(continuing, as--)


INT. LAW FIRM OFFICE/DUPLICATION CENTER -- NIGHT
A XEROX MACHINE -- cranking out high-speed copies -- ten
pages a second flashing before our eyes -- all information
a blur except for the letterhead which is constant:


KENNER, BACH & LEDEEN LLP
ATTORNEYS AT LAW


As...


ARTHUR EDENS (V.O.)
-- I mean, yes -- okay, yes -- elements
of madness -- the speed of madness --
yes, the occasional, euphoric, pseudohallucinatory
moments that, yes -- fine
-- agreed -- distracting -- nostalgic --
all of that --


(continuing, as--)


A HUGE EMPTY OFFICE BULLPEN. CUBICLES AND WORKSTATIONS.


ARTHUR EDENS (V.O.)
-- but that’s just the package --
the plate -- think of it as a tax --
The Mania Tax -- The Insanity Tax --
or like advertising on TV -- it’s the
freight -- the weight -- it’s the
price of the show --


A LONG, DARK CORRIDOR. A CLEANING CREW IN THE DISTANCE.


ARTHUR EDENS (V.O.)
-- just please, just hear me out,
Michael, because I swear to you, this
is so much, so very much more, than
the ravings of some hypo-maniacal,
bipolar attorney --


DOCUMENT AREA. ODD THIS LATE. THREE ASSOCIATES STACKING
PAPERWORK ONTO A TROLLEY --


ARTHUR EDENS (V.O.)
-- Two weeks ago I came out of the
building -- I’m running across Sixth
Avenue -- there’s a car waiting -- I
have exactly thirty-eight minutes to
get to Laguardia,and I’m dictating --
there’s this frantic associate running
to keep up --


A SENIOR PARTNER’S OFFICE. A SECURITY GUARD SNEAKING A
SMOKE IN THE DARK BY AN OPEN WINDOW.


ARTHUR EDENS (V.O.)
-- we’re in the middle of the street --
the light changes -- the traffic --
unleashed -- it’s coming -- serious
traffic -- but there I am -- I’m

babbling -- my mouth -- I can’t stop --
some ridiculous, involuntary part of my
brain just keeps going -- I’m standing
there dictating this trade secret,
Motion to Suppress...


AN OFFICE PHONE. TWELVE LINES BLINKING IN THE DARK.


ARTHUR EDENS (V.O.)
...and there, Michael, in the middle
of Sixth Avenue -- as I stood there
jabbering -- and this poor young woman
is screaming -- traffic speeding toward
us -- I looked at my hands and my suit
-- my briefcase -- and it came to me --
came over me -- through me -- the
overwhelming sensation -- the feeling --
the fact -- that I was covered with
some sort of film -- an oil -- an ooze
-- my hair -- my face -- like a glaze --
a coating -- and at first I thought,
“My God, I know what this is, this is
some sort of amniotic, embryonic fluid -
- I’m drenched in afterbirth -- I’ve
breached the chrysalis -- I’ve been
reborn.” --


ASSOCIATE #1 WHEELING THAT DOCUMENT TROLLEY PAST AN EMPTY
BACK OFFICE KITCHEN.


ARTHUR EDENS (V.O.)
-- but the traffic -- this stampede --
cars -- trucks -- the horns -- the
screaming associate -- I’m thinking,
“No -- reset -- this cannot be rebirth.
If anything, this must some giddy
illusion of renewal that happens in the
final instant before death.” --


A MAINTENANCE WORKER VACUUMING A LARGE RECEPTION STAIRCASE.


ARTHUR EDENS (V.O.)
-- and then -- in the fraction of a
moment it took for that idea to form --
I realized all of that was wrong,
because I looked back at the building
and had the most stunning moment of
clarity...


THE WORD PROCESSING DEPARTMENT. TWENTY PEOPLE -- ACTORS,
DANCERS, ARTISTS, INSOMNIACS -- THE GRAVEYARD SHIFT
HAMMERING OUT OVERNIGHT LEGAL PAPERWORK.


ARTHUR EDENS (V.O.)
...I realized, Michael, at that moment,
that I had emerged -- as I have done
nearly every day for the past twentyeight
years of my life -- not through
doors of Kenner, Bach & Ledeen --


RECEPTION LOBBY. ASSOCIATE #1 WHEELING THE TROLLEY OFF
THE ELEVATOR.


ARTHUR EDENS (V.O.)
-- not through the portals of our huge
and powerful law firm, but rather from
the asshole of an organism whose sole
function is to excrete the poison --
the ammo -- the defoliant -- necessary
for even larger and more dangerous
organisms to destroy the miracle of
humanity --


ANOTHER EMPTY HALLWAY. A BANQUET TABLE LITTERED WITH THE
PICKED-OVER REMNANTS OF AN ALL-NIGHT CATERED FEED.


ARTHUR EDENS (V.O.)
-- and that I have been coated with
this patina of shit for the better part
of my life and that the stink and stain
might in all likelihood take the rest
of my days to undo --


AND NOW -- WIDER TO FIND -- ASSOCIATE #1 WHEELING THE
TROLLEY TOWARD BIG DOORS AT THE END OF THE HALL --


ARTHUR EDEN’S (V.O.)
-- and do you know what I did next?
I took a deep, cleansing breath.
I set that notion aside. I tabled it.
I said to myself, “As clear as this may
be -- as potent as this may feel -- as
true a thing as I believe I have
witnessed here -- I must wait. It must
stand the test of time.”


AN ATTORNEY HUDDLED OVER HIS MOBILE PHONE, SEEING THE KID
COMING, HELPING HIM BY OPENING THE DOORS, as --


ARTHUR EDENS (V.O.)
And, Michael, the time is now.