"AMERICAN SNIPER" by Chris Kyle with Scott McEwen and ..., Exercises of Voice

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"AMERICAN SNIPER"

by Chris Kyle with Scott McEwen and Jim DeFelice Screenplay By Jason Hall Second Draft 07.17.

All gave some. Some gave all.

CHRIS KYLE (CONT’D)

(keys mike) I got a military-aged male, on a cell phone, watching the convoy. Over. COMMANDING OFFICER (OS) If he’s reporting troop movement you have a green-light. Your call. Over. MAN ON CELL studies the convoy, his hair tossed by wind. CROSS-HAIR push left of target, compensating for windage. SFX: Chris takes a deep inhale, holds it, then expels. His finger is taking up trigger-slack when the man dips his shoulder slightly. Chris holds off as-- MAN ON CELL hangs up and steps away. CHRIS KYLE (keys mike) He stepped off. Chris sucks air_. Close._ The ambient world floods back in. Barked orders, diesel engines and-- A WOMAN AND KID exit the same structure. They’re headed up the sidewalk but cut sharply into the street. CHRIS KYLE (CONT’D) (keys mike) Hold up. I got a woman and a kid, 200 yards out, moving toward the convoy. (ECU)-- The woman cradles something beneath her robes. CHRIS KYLE (CONT’D) Her arms aren’t swinging. She’s carrying something. CROSS-HAIRS ON WOMAN as she pulls a cylindrical object from her robes. His vision obscured but-- CHRIS KYLE (CONT’D) She just pulled a grenade. An RKG Russian grenade. I think she gave it to the kid. COMMANDING OFFICER (OS) --you say a woman and kid? SFX: his heart-beat, THUMP-THUMP THUMP-THUMP THUMP-THUMP. CHRIS KYLE You got eyes on this? Can you confirm?

COMMANDING OFFICER (OS)

Negative. You know the ROEs. Your call. GOAT (OC) They’re gonna fry you if you’re wrong. THE KID moves toward the convoy with the grenade. CHRIS KYLE (OC) Fuck-- MOTHER motions the Kid to hurry along (ECU) -- her robes flutter, trash blows in the street, the dust off her son’s footsteps; all blowing the same direction. THE KID sprints toward the Marines. IN THE STREET YOUNG MARINES. Wading into war. Boots scuffing dirt. CLOSE ON CHRIS His exhale hisses from tobacco-stained teeth. Breathe it down. He struggles to get calm, fighting for control, SFX: THUMP-THUMP THUMP-THUMP THUMP-- CROSS-HAIRS left of the running target, leading him, compensating for a dozen different considerations as-- He pauses upon exhale. The world goes quiet. Landscape pulses with color and focus. He stokes the trigger and-- THE BULLET Leaps from the barrel. Cracks like a whip. The .300 round hurls forward, glinting as it enters the flesh of-- A WHITE-TAIL BUCK It staggers, draws and topples to the ground. We are-- EXT. HILLS, WEST TEXAS - PRE-DAWN A field shrouded in fog. CHRIS KYLE(8) jumps from a deer blind, innocent and excited, running toward the buck. MAN’S VOICE Get back here. Chris stops, turns back. WAYNE KYLE, his father, is sturdy and earnest with mutton chops and Texas calm.

DEBBIE, their mother. She wears big oval glasses and runs a boys home with that same steady hand. INT. BARN - DAY WAYNE points the knife at the carcass, guiding Chris in butchering the deer. A rite of passage. WAYNE KYLE (PRE-LAP) There are three types of people in this world. Sheep, wolves and sheepdogs. A BLANK WALL behind them will soon display the antlers. INT. CHRIS’ BEDROOM Dust motes drift across a dresser, settling on a Pop- Warner football, that blue Bible, and METALLIC TOY SOLDIERS guarding the bullet casing from his first buck. WAYNE KYLE (VO) Some people prefer to believe that evil doesn’t exist in the world-- PUSH THROUGH the modest ranch house into-- INT. DINING ROOM WAYNE lectures his boys over venison. WAYNE KYLE And if hatred ever darkened their doorstep they wouldn’t know how to protect themselves. These are the sheep. Jeff bites back tears. Chris looks troubled. EXT. SCHOOLYARD FROM THE BACK, we watch a BIG BULLY pummel a KID ON THE GROUND. His meaty fists coming down repeatedly as-- WAYNE KYLE (VO) Then you got the predators. These people use violence to prey on the weak. They are the wolves. KID ON THE GROUND is JEFF, his nose bloody. PUSH TOWARD the fight-- (ECU) blood flecks fly from the Bully’s fist.

WAYNE KYLE (VO) (CONT’D)

Then there are those who are blessed with the gift of aggression and an overpowering need to protect the flock. A FIST CONNECTS with BIG BULLY’s temple. He goes down. Chris stands over the bully, beating the tar out of him. WAYNE KYLE (VO) (CONT’D) These men are the rare breed that live to confront the wolf-- EXT. FIELD CHRIS stands with his arms extended. Wind blows dirt off his palms and it plumes out across the land. WAYNE KYLE (VO) They’re the sheepdog. INT. DINING ROOM WAYNE removes his belt and lays it on the table. CHRIS looks at it, worried. WAYNE KYLE Now we’re not raising any sheep in this family and I will whoop your fucking ass if you turn into a wolf-- DEBBY Wayne-- WAYNE But we take care of our own. And if someone picks a fight with you or bullies your brother, you have my permission to finish it. CHRIS The guy was picking on Jeff. WAYNE KYLE That true? JEFF (eye swollen) Yes...sir... Yes he was... WAYNE KYLE (turns to Chris) And did you finish it?

CHRIS

Is that what they say? JEFF You know what they called her in high school-- CHRIS Don’t say it. JEFF Sarah suck-a-- Chris swings his bag of ice, smacks Jeff in the face. JEFF (CONT’D) Shit man-- He swerves off the road. The truck almost coming apart before he ramps back up, coming to a dusty halt outside-- EXT. BUNKHOUSE Spanish moss hangs over a shackle-board residence. Chris tumbles out the truck, clips on the belt buckle and-- INT. BUNKHOUSE CHRIS swaggers into the narrow bunkhouse. A sheet hangs in back, separating sleeping area from living area. CHRIS Who wants to hump a rodeo star? Movement back there. A MAN ASS suddenly protrudes from the curtain as a BURLY COWBOY-TYPE climbs into jeans. CHRIS (CONT’D) What the fuck-- SARAH steps out, his high school sweetheart all grown up. SARAH You said you weren’t coming home until tomorrow. CHRIS (wounded) Why would you do this? Cowboy leaves his shirt open flaunting a big hairy chest.

SARAH

Just let him out. He didn’t know... Chris looks shamed, steps aside for Cowboy to move past-- CHRIS You didn’t know? Cowboy doesn’t answer. Chris SLAMS HIS HEAD into the refrigerator and ramps him out the front door. SARAH What the fuck is wrong with you! What’d you expect? You drag me out here then run off with your damn brother every weekend! CHRIS Get out. She jumps at the chance-- ripping clothes out of closets. SARAH You think you’re cowboy cause you rodeo? You’re no cowboy. You’re just a lousy ranch-hand and a shitty fuckin lay! The door slams behind her. Chris stares at the dent in the fridge then opens it up and pulls out a beer. LATER TV plays across Chris’ drunken face. He lays on the sofa, a beer on his chest. JEFF is sprawled in a chair. JEFF Some people ain’t worth fighting for. CHRIS But she was right. I can’t just shovel shit the rest of my life-- JEFF A job is a job. At least we’re outside. CHRIS But if that’s all there is... (drifting) I think that bronc broke my hand. He’s bleary and lost, staring at his swollen hand. The images on the TV don’t immediately register but--

NAVY RECRUITER

They’ll fix that. But, understand, this isn’t for the faint of heart. Most men aren’t made for this. CHRIS (flash of uncertainty, then) I’m not “most men”, sir. NAVY RECRUITER Alright but - if you wash out - you’ll end up on the deck of a ship. Chris looks from the battleship to the brochure of the Seals-- and nods, he believes he is that man. TRANSITION TO: AN EYE CHART. Incredibly small letters. In sharp focus: CHRIS (PRE-LAP) C....L....A....D....B.... INT. NAVY HOSPITAL, DALLAS FT. WORTH THE DOCTOR pulls the tong away from Chris’ eye. NAVY DOCTOR 20/10. CHRIS What’s that mean? NAVY DOCTOR Means you can spot a bug on a blade of grass from about fifty yards. As the doctor signs his medical release-- CUT TO: INT. BLACKHAWK HELICOPTER - “HELOCASTING”- NIGHT CHRIS looks scared, packed standing amongst A DOZEN MEN in T’s and nylon shorts, all soaked to the bone. INSTRUCTOR Go, go, go! He’s shoving boys out. Chris appears before him--

INSTRUCTOR (CONT’D)

--you deaf? Go! He shoves Chris out. We are falling, falling, fall-- INT. OCEAN - NIGHT The water meets us sooner than expected. It swallows us. Bubbles rush past, an army of feet kicking in darkness. Chris swims for the surface, takes a foot in the face-- ON THE SURFACE Chris is taking in water. Going under. Rotors whip the sea into frenzy. A spotlight hits. TWO SEALS plunge in beside him, securing Chris in a life ring. The helicopter plucks him from the ocean and arcs into the darkness with Chris dangling by a string. EXT. NAVAL SPECIAL WARFARE CENTER / “THE GRINDER” - DAY CHRIS, RYAN and 50 OTHER CANDIDATES lay on their backs doing flutter-kicks on a patch of blacktop surrounded by beige buildings. INSTRUCTORS wield hoses. INSTRUCTOR ROLLE (sprays Chris in the face) You are fleet-meat. Don’t turn away from the water. Look up and take it. You are old as fuck aren’t you? Did you join the Navy cause you had such a good time on Noah’s Arc? How old are you? CHRIS 30, sir. INSTRUCTOR ROLLE 30! You fart dust and could’ve fathered half these boys. Instructors haze other candidates across the Grinder. INSTRUCTOR ROLLE (CONT’D) You think cause you had a pop-gun back in Texas you’re cut out to be a SEAL? CHRIS No, sir. INSTRUCTOR ROLLE No, you’re not cut out to be one?

INSTRUCTOR ROLLE

Was that your ass talking then? THE BELL RINGS. Chris jerks up, worried it was Biggles. An ATHLETIC CANDIDATE, the fittest of all, staggers off. INSTRUCTOR ROLLE (CONT’D) That’s a quitter. If he quits here, he’ll quit in battle. When shit gets hairy, he can’t step up. You get shot, he can’t pull you out. We’re gonna weed out the quitters and see if we can find a warrior or two. Chris and Biggles share a look, a vow, as-- INSTRUCTOR ROLLE (CONT’D) Wave goodbye to the sun, boys... EXT. DOCKS - NIGHT Mist whips through spotlights shining down on FORTY CANDIDATES laying on the docks, soaked and chanting: CANDIDATES CHANT A yellow bird, with a yellow bill, Was sitting on my window sill. I lured him in with a piece of bread, Then I smashed his fucking head. “INSTRUCTOR TONY”(34) is a salty sea-dog with cholo flare. He ambles past CANDIDATES nearing hypothermia. INSTRUCTOR “TONY” How bout this-- if any of you turds can sport wood in 30 seconds your team sits out the next evolution. Got any takers? Movement down the row. BIGGLES has a hand down his shorts, eyes closed, frantically trying to produce. INSTRUCTOR “TONY” (CONT’D) We got a gamer-- Biggles! Talk dirty to him, ladies. You know how he likes it. His BOAT CREW CHEER, talking dirty to Biggles. The least likely to make it is becoming their heart and soul. EXT. BEACH - “SNAKE PIT” - NIGHT A bonfire crackles atop a sand dune. CANDIDATES crouch in a pit they dug, hugging oars, shivering.

CHRIS stands at attention, trying to make INSTRUCTORS laugh so he can earn a place by the fire beside BIGGLES. CHRIS We were 16, and both virgins, and the condom broke. She was crying, begging me to do something and I’d heard if you pour soda up there you won’t get pregnant-- (guys start laughing) So we went to 7-11, got a liter of Coke and drove back into the woods. She took her panties off and did a handstand against a tree but when I start pouring it in, she screams “ouch, it stings” but then I stop and she screams “no, don’t stop” and it’s fizzing out-- INSTRUCTORS in stitches. Fire flickering off Chris’ face-- INSTRUCTOR TONY (PRE-LAP) Everyone wants to be a Seal on a bright sunny day... EXT. “MUD FLATS” - DAY Today is not that day. Fog shrouds CANDIDATES COVERED IN MUD, seated, hugging belly-to-back, shivering-- INSTRUCTOR MENLO You’re really from Connecticut, Dauber? I never met a hick from Hartford before. “DAUBER” is 6’4” and 240 with a flop of yellow hair like the character from Coach. A Connecticut cowboy. DAUBER Country is countrywide, sir. INSTRUCTOR “TONY” I don’t think he likes black dudes, “D”. “D” is African American, from Indiana, stoic and stacked. He has a rhythmic grumble and a meat-eaters glare. “D” That’s alright, sir. I’m not black. INSTRUCTOR “TONY” No?

BLOOD BURSTS from Chris’ ears and nose. It plumes in front of him like black ink. His eyes roll back-- TO BLACK: HEADLIGHTS CUT through black. The OLD 97’s “Born to be in Battle” blasts as we swerve across the roadway. BIGGLES (OS) 1, 2, 3, 4...I declare van war! INT. PASSENGER VAN - NIGHT A MASS OF HUMANITY is tossed about. Biggles rises up from the wrestling bodies and blows a fart. “D” throws him in a headlock, choking him unconscious. Up front-- CHRIS rides shotgun, COTTON IN EARS, in a foul mood. CHRIS (PRE-LAP) You’ll be shipping out and I’ll be picking cotton from my fuckin ears. INT. MULONEY’S BAR - NIGHT A crowd watches the boys toss darts at a bulls-eye drawn on DAUBER’S naked back. At the bar, BIGGLES and CHRIS-- BIGGLES Getting rolled back isn’t the end of the world. You’ll sit and heal a few months-- CHRIS It’s a big deal man, I’m older than you-- BIGGLES (overlapping) Stop yelling. CHRIS I feel like I’m gonna miss it. BIGGLES Miss what? He can’t articulate it but fate has its hooks in him. BIGGLES (CONT’D) You need to get off your pity-pot man, we’re about to get pinned. Chris processes it, watching Biggles sip from a straw.

CHRIS

Don’t ever say that again. And we don’t drink out of straws. BIGGLES It’s Long Island Ice tea. I need a straw. CHRIS You need a new drink. BIGGLES What about at a drive-thru? You don’t drink from a straw when you’re driving? CHRIS Ever watch yourself sip from a straw? BIGGLES How about a movie? You’re in the dark-- CHRIS Would you suck a dick if the lights were low? The straw comes out. CHRIS (CONT’D) They’re going to let me pre-qual’ for sniper school. BIGGLES You want to be sniper? CHRIS What’s cooler than being a sniper? BIGGLES Blowing shit up. Blowing shit up is way cooler. Can you shoot? A brunette steps to the bar. A sharp object with heavy eye-shadow and tight leather pants. This girl owns her sexuality but she’s often been used for it. This is “ TAYA”. She is trying to ignore the advances of A SHORT NAVY GUY but he’s relentless. Chris watches as (ECU) -- Taya’s fingertips whiten, gripping her glass. Chris edges closer, she looks up, defensive-- but he just stands there, letting his protective presence be felt. DAPPER NAVY GUY (OC) Come on, just let me buy you a drink.