(Name of Project) by (Name of First Writer) (Based on, If Any) Revisions by (Names of Subsequent Writers in Order of Work Performed! current Revisions by (Current Writer, date) Name (of company, if applicable) Addrese Phone NumberCINEMA PARADISO by Giuseppe Tornatore FOR EDUCATIONAL PURPOSES ONLY Shooting Script GIANCALDO. SALVATORE'S MOTHER'S HOUSE. EXT/INT. DAY The October sun slashes through the gray clouds, cuts across the shadow towards the sea, along the coast where the new suburbs of the city of Giancaldo have been built up. Bright light streams through the windows, glancing off the white walls in an almost blinding reflection. MARIA, a woman a little over sixty, is trying to find somebody on the phone. MARIA ++-Salvatore, that's right Salvatore. Di Vita Salvatore ...But, miss, what do you mean you don't know him?!...I..eYes.e. (She gives a nervous sigh. She has dialed her way through endless numbers but still hasn't managed to speak to Mr. Di Vita. she finally heaves a sigh of relief.) -..That's right, good for you! Oh!...yes...And I'm his mother. I'm calling from Sicily. Been trying all day...Ah, he's not there...But would you be so kind as to give Mes. 2 Pe ee VOB. ee (She nods at another woman around forty sitting nearby: it is LIA, her daughter, who jots down the numbers her mother dictates:) ++.Six, five, six, two, two, oh six...Thanks ever so much...Goodbye. Goodbye. She hangs up, takes the number LIA has jotted down determined to have still another try. LIA speaks to her as if she were a baby, to be more convincing. LIA Look, Ma...It's useless calling him. He'll be terribly busy, God knows where he is. Besides he might not even remember. Do as I say, forget it...He hasn't been here for thirty years. You know how he is.MARIA pauses to think it over. The decision she has to make is important. Then, stubbornly. MARIA He'll remember! He'll remember! (she puts on her glasses and starts dialing the number . ) ++.I'm positive, I know him better than you do. If he were to find out we hadn't told him, he'd be angry. I know. (She takes off her glasses.) +s+Hello? Good morning. Could I please speak to Mr. Salvatore Di Vita. I'm his mother... ROME. STREETS. EXT/INT. NIGET It's late, but there is still traffic on the streets heading downtown. Inside a high-powered car, a man around fifty is driving. It is SALVATORE Dl VITA. Elegant, just growing gray, a handsome face creased by deep wrinkles. His weary expression hides the determined, sell-assured manner of the successful self-made man. He must be a heavy smoker judging by the way he draws the last puffs on his cigarette. He stops at a red light. He stubs out the cigarette and rolls down the window, as a little Fiat Uno pulls up alongside. A rock tune plays full blast on the radio. SALVATORE turns instinctively to have a look at the man at the wheel a BOY with a brush cut standing straight in the latest fashion. He studies the Boy's expression with almost exaggerated attention, but devoid of curiosity, coldly. The GIRL sitting beside him, lots of curly hair, overripe red lips, returns SALVATORE'S look, provocatively. The BOY notices, turns to SALVATORE in a surly voice: Boy Hey! What the fuck you looking at!? Green light. The Fiat Uno shoots off, leaving a trail of music in its wake. ROME. SALVATORE $ APARTMENT. INT. NIGHT The apartment is luxurious, tastefully furnished. There is no one waiting for SALVATORE. Through the picture window on the terrace, the city can be seen slumbering in the night. SALVATORE gets undressed on his way to the bedroom. He moves quietly, as if to make no noise. He doesn't even turn on the light, finishes getting undressed in the pale blue glow coming from the picture window. A rustling sound, a movement on the bed, the voice of a woman waking up.