Total Recall

 

 

 

Screenplay by                             Ronald Shusett

                                                 Dan O'Bannon

                                                 Gary Goldman

 

Produced by                               Buzz Feitshans

                                                 Ronald Shusett

 

Directed by                                Paul Verhoeven

 

 

 

Cast List:

 

Arnold Schwarzenegger                       Doug Quaid

Rachael Ticotin                                    Melina

Sharon Stone                            Lori Quaid

Ronny Cox                               Cohaagen

Micahel Ironside                     Richter

Marshall Bell                           George / Kuato

Mel Johnson Jr.                                  Bennie

 

 

 

FADE IN:

 

 

EXT. DESERT – DAY

 

All we can see, filling the entire frame is a flame-orange sky... almost like the sky from the burning of Atlanta in "Gone with the Wind".

 

SUPERIMPOSE: Presenter credit

 

PAN DOWN lower and lower until we see the terrain below... the desert. There is no vegetation whatever, just sand and odd-shaped rock formations. The air is filled with red dust, which alternately obscures and then reveals the image.

 

CAMERA MOVES FORWARD optically – enlarging the film grain in the process.

 

SLOW DISSOLVE

 

 

OPENING CREDITS BEGIN

 

 

ANOTHER SHOT

 

Of a barren landscape, once more with bizarre rocks. Dust. Sound of wind.

 

CAMERA MOVES FORWARD again.

 

DISSOLVE

 

 

ANOTHER LANDSCAPE

 

But this time, in the distance are some enormous plastic domes. Sunlight striking them and reflecting causes brilliant rainbows. CAMERA optically tracks toward the dome, seen in tantalizingly indistinct fashion through the red dust.

 

DISSOLVE

 

 

ANOTHER ANGLE

 

And, in the distance, on the horizon of the arid landscape is a huge SPHINX-LIKE STRUCTURE. (It is reminiscent of the Egyptian sphinx, but both body and face, though gargoyle-like, are different in design.) There are some large pyramids not far from the sphinx. CAMERA MOVES optically FORWARD.

 

DISSOLVE

 

 

CAMERA is much closer to the sphinx and is directly in front. It moves (combination of zoom and optical printer move) towards the eyes, which appear to be red gems.

 

As CAMERA APPROACHES one of the eyes, it appears to be stained red glass, as in a temple. Suddenly there is a terrific explosion and the glass shatters into millions of fragments which hurtle toward the camera...

 

 

INT. CATACOMB BELOW "SPHINX" – DAY

 

A MAN wearing a LIGHTWEIGHT THERMAL SUIT is RUNNING THROUGH THIS LABYRINTH of TUNNELS. The GROUND TREMBLES under him, as if in an earthquake. We cannot clearly make out his face, especially since he wears some kind of BREATHING APPARATUS over a portion of it.

 

The surface of the tunnel's "walls" is curious; the walls are, again, bright reddish orange, and a composite of two different substances: rough-textured, clay-like material and red quartz, which glistens like crystal.

 

The man throws a backward glance over his shoulder, fear- fully, as he runs. His HANDS are SPLATTERED with BLOOD. Because of this, the RED GLOW, the air of FEAR to the man, and the GROUND HEAVING and BUCKLING, there is almost a SATANIC suggestion to the scene.

 

Suddenly, up AHEAD of the man, there appears a BRILLIANT WHITE LIGHT. He SEES IT, and runs even faster towards it.

 

We are ALMOST UP TO THE LIGHT, and we SEE HANDS REACHING OUT OF THE LIGHT TOWARDS US... that seem to beckon him to SAFETY.

 

ABRUPTLY, the ENTIRE SCREEN GOES RED, BUT IN REVERSE NEGATIVE; with YELLOW LAYOVERS. (So that all the images we see – ENTIRE FRAME – are small YELLOW AREAS diffused on a RED BACKGROUND.) It is much like looking at a tableau made out of molten lava.

 

SUPERIMPOSE MAIN TITLE: "TOTAL RECALL"

 

DISSOLVE TO:

 

 

INT. BEDROOM IN SMALL APARTMENT – MORNING

 

DOUGLAS QUAIL and his wife KRISTEN, are asleep in bed.

 

Gradually the room lights BRIGHTEN. The CLOCK CHIMES and begins SPEAKING in a soft, feminine voice.

 

CLOCK

(sweetly)

Tick, tock, seven o'clock. Time to rise and open your eyes.

 

They don't budge. Shortly, the clock CHIMES again.

 

CLOCK

(continuing)

Tick, tock, seven-oh-one. Time to get up, the day had begun.

 

Quail's wife stirs. Maddeningly, the clock CHIMES a third time.

 

CLOCK

(continuing)

Tick, tock –

 

Quail reaches out and shuts the clock off. Then he sits up in bed.

 

He swings his legs out from under the covers and sits on the edge of the bed. He puts on his glasses and sits, lost in thought.

 

He is a good-looking but conventional man in his early thirties. He seems rather in awe of his wife, who is attractive and rather off-hand towards him.

 

Kirsten pulls on her robe, lights a cigarette, sits fishing for her slippers.

 

QUAIL

I dreamed about Mars again... it was bizarre, yet is was so real...

 

KIRSTEN

(casual)

It's your time of the month again.

 

Quail looks at her quizzically.

 

KIRSTEN

(continuing; world-weary air)

At least once a month. Douglas Quail's obsession. For twelve years you've been talking about Mars.

 

QUAIL

People do go to Mars, you know.

 

KIRSTEN

That's right, Douglas. But not you. Not us.

 

Quail looks crestfallen.

 

KIRSTEN

(continuing; disdainful)

As it is, we can barely scrape by on your lousy ten thousand a week.

 

She leaves the room. He meditates on what she said, depressed.

 

 

INT. KITCHENETTE – MORNING

 

Quail and Kirsten sit at a small table, eating breakfast. On the WALL is projected the front page of a NEWSPAPER.

 

Drinking his coffee, Quail studies the wall with the air of a man who had his "node stuck in a newspaper," ignoring his wife.

 

The newspaper headline reads: "RIOTING ON MARS OVER WATER TAX."

 

His wife is reading a different article: "Four Women Rape Man in Park."

 

KIRSTEN

(mumbling)

What do they expect... the way men dress these days... then they scream rape.

 

Quail is absorbed in his own paper and doesn't hear her.

 

QUAIL

You know – let's really do it.

 

KIRSTEN

Rape men in the park?

 

QUAIL

No. Go to Mars.

 

KIRSTEN

(withering)

Go to hell.

 

QUAIL

We can pool our savings and I've got some sick leave coming, besides my regular vacation...

 

KIRSTEN

(interrupting; corrects herself)

... more of a half-wit. For a start a war could break out there any day...

 

She gestures toward the TV screen where Martian police are keeping protesters behind a barrier. Some have signs reading "A FREE MARS", "DOWN WITH COHAAGEN", "EARTH – OUT" etc.

 

QUAIL

That's just media talk. They're...

(indicating the protesters)

... just a minority. They're powerless.

 

KIRSTEN

Well, there's a lot of things we need around here before we waste our money on a trip to Mars. We're broke. I'm just a slave around this dump. Now if you were capable of finding a better job...

 

The kitchen clock chimes and talks.

 

CLOCK

It's now eight. You'll be late!

 

QUAIL

I'll be late!

 

He jumps up quickly from the table, picks up his coat and briefcase, kisses KIRSTEN's perfunctorily offered cheek and leaves.

 

 

EXT. CITY – EARLY MORNING

 

CAMERA TRACKS with Quail as he walks along the busy modern street towards a subway station. Modern cars (out of focus) pass noiselessly between the camera and Quail. There is a plaintive tune being played on violin. Quail pauses and gives a wad of notes to the aged violinist, then walks on briskly.

 

 

INT. SUBWAY STATION – EARLY MORNING

 

Quail enters the station. Everybody must pass through a weapons check before proceeding to the platforms.

 

TWO ARMED GUARDS stand at either side, as commuters pass through an electronic beam. On a screen, the entire body of each person is seen in X-ray. All of them are clearly carrying a gun in their inside coat pocket.

 

GUARD

No weapon again, Mr. Quail?

 

QUAIL

I keep forgetting, Herb. They frighten me.

 

GUARD

Yeah? Well, it's the law, Mr. Quail. Has been since 1990 they tell me. Tomorrow – ya carry ya gun or ya get reported.

 

A GUARD gestures to his associate. They've obviously been through this with Quail before.

 

QUAIL

Okay. Herb, okay.

 

Quail walks on to the track area. The train arrives. Signs above each approaching car say "CAR FULL", "ROOM FOR 10 PERSONS", etc. Quail goes to a carriage marked "NEW CAR".

 

 

INT. URBAN TRANSIT TRAIN – DAY

 

The doors open and the crowd surges on. Quail grabs a seat. At intervals throughout the car are VIDEO MONITORS on which a NEWS BROADCAST is showing.

 

NEWSCASTER (V.O.)

... more violence today from Mars's strike-torn ore colonies –

 

Everyone ignores the broadcast – except Quail, who perks instantly at the word "Mars."

 

The NEWSCASTER is a young black man.

 

NEWSCASTER

(continuing)

... but Earth Intelligence Operations Director Vilos Cohaagen, clearly worried about the damage to Mars's all important tourist industry was today dismissive of the dissident groups...

 

TV scene switches to a press conference. COHAAGEN, surrounded by AIDES, steps in front of a podium packed with news network microphones and cameras. Cohaagen is a striking, intense man with an obvious air of power.

 

COHAAGEN

We're dealing with a bunch of extremists and unrepresentative lunatics. Mars is a happy and prosperous protectorate of Earth... and will remain so.

 

The train stops at another station and more people pile on. Quail tries to watch the broadcast through the bodies passing in front of him and intermittently blocking the image.

 

REPORTER (V.O.)

There have been some criticisms, sir...

 

COHAAGEN

I have no further comment.

 

The news conference ends and a bright looking young man comes on the screen.

 

Quail continues to watch, though not as interested, initially, as he was by the Mars story. Few of the other passengers bother looking at the screen.

 

ANNOUNCER

Good morning, commuters. This portion of your trip is brought to you by Rekall, Inc. Do you have a dream that never came true? Do you aspire – but only perspire? Has the great adventure passed you by? Then come to... REKALL, where what might have been will have been. For the memories of a lifetime... REKALL.

 

Quail watches the commercial through to the end, but doesn't seem to take it very seriously. He glances away as a card comes on the screen with REKALL's numbers.

 

 

INT. QUAIL'S OFFICE – DAY

 

Quail is seated at a computer console in a vast beehive of a room. Numerous people are typing information onto the screens. Quail pauses in his typing, thoughtful. He then types in a little more information, then pauses again. On the screen, a sentence types itself...

 

"WHY HAVE YOU STOPPED? REQUEST MORE INFORMATION."

 

Quail read it and continues.

 

 

INT. McCLANE'S OFFICE – REKALL – DAY

 

Scene opens on a CLOSEUP of McCLANE, a genial, bubbling, enthusiastic man.

 

McCLANE

We're all dreamers, Douglas. But here at Rekall, dreams are our business.

 

He presses a button on his desk and the chairs on which they are seated appear to be in outer space. Countless stars glitter all around. Startlingly, a comet whizzes by. Quail is amazed. McClane grins and presses the button again. The scene changes to a beautiful underwater coral reef. Multi-colored fish swim

around the chairs and desk.

 

QUAIL

But... is the process really that effective? A false memory!?

 

McCLANE

(shaking his head; smiling)

We prefer the term "extra- factual implant". Your memory will be complete in every way. You will have gone to Mars. We guarantee that.

 

QUAIL

Is it in any way dangerous? I mean, the medical techniques?

 

McCLANE

Not when you deal with qualified operators – like us.

 

He presses the button again and the normal office returns. Quail looks around, impressed.

 

QUAIL

It's just – incredible.

 

McCLANE

And look at our follow-up program!

 

He puts items on the desk as he talks.

 

McCLANE

(continuing)

Space-flight ticket stub... passport... vaccination certificates... matchbooks from Martian Nouvelle Cuisine restaurants, souvenirs, post cards... even names of people you met – now back there – who you can call and discuss your trip with... by the way, we plant these things where you'll come across them at random in the future.

 

QUAIL

But... I'll know I hired you. That'll destroy the whole illusion.

 

McCLANE

(smiling; self-satisfied)

But you won't remember me, or having been here.

 

QUAIL

I won't?

 

McCLANE

Your money back if you do! We've never paid out yet.

 

Quail slumps backs in his chair, overwhelmed.

 

McCLANE

(continuing)

And we have a special this month, for only two-hundred thousand dollars more.

 

At the press of a button, a list appears on the wall...

 

"A14 MILLIONAIRE PLAYBOY

A15 SPORTS HERO

A16 INDUSTRIAL TYCOON

A17 INTELLIGENCE AGENT"

 

McCLANE

(continuing)

You can have a new identity for the duration of the trip. Pick one.

 

Quail's eyes linger on "Intelligence Agent."

 

QUAIL

"Intelligence Agent"... wouldn't that be dangerous? I might attack...

 

McCLANE

(airily)

No. No. You're a retired agent. Mars was your last mission and you're never to break your cover. But you'll have got the girl, killed the baddies, and saved the Universe. Not bad, eh?

 

QUAIL

I don't know... about the whole thing... it's all such a fake. I won't really have gone. I won't really...

 

McCLANE

(kind but firm)

Let's face it, Douglas, you, and millions of people like you have no chance of ever getting to Mars and you'd never qualify as a secret agent for EIO. This – REKALL – is the only way to achieve your dream.

 

He gets up and walks around to Quail's chair.

 

McCLANE

(continuing)

Think about it, Douglas. Think, too, what a terrible boor a real holiday is. Lost tickets, endless arguments, lousy hotels, missed connections, rotten weather... Rekall will supply you with perfect, happy memories.

 

Quail is thoughtful, willing to be totally convinced.

 

 

INT. QUAIL'S APARTMENT – NIGHT

 

Quail is sitting, distracted, in an uncomfortable modern chair. Kirsten is watching a near-pornographic film on TV. She casually lights a cigarette.

 

QUAIL

You know that's illegal.

 

KIRSTEN

Yeah? Who's going to report me? You?... wimp...

 

She watches a torrid love scene on the video.

 

KIRSTEN

(continuing)

Screwing around's illegal, too. But just give me half a chance...

 

Quail looks at her with distaste. His expression changes to one of resolve.

 

 

INT. MEMORY STUDIO – DAY

 

Quail is stretched out on a plush reclining couch, alongside some strange-looking lab equipment, wearing a hospital-type smock. In the b.g. hovers a TECHNICIAN, adjusting some instrumentation (discreet banks of computers, etc.) – that apparently relates to the lab equipment next to Quail. The room in a dim, soothing booth, lit by indirect lighting.

 

Quail looks a little concerned as he studies all the instrumentation next to him – as one always does at the dentist's, looking at the drills.

 

The door opens abruptly, in walks a cute-looking LITTLE OLD LADY, wearing a JOGGING SUIT. (A RUTH GORDON-TYPE.)

 

OLD LADY

Hi, I'm Doctor Sophie Lull. Sorry I'm late.

(walks toward coat closet)

I'll be right with you.

 

She dons a white medical smock that covers her jogging suit, then slings on heavy, lead-lined protective vest.

 

QUAIL

(looking at instrument console)

This really going to work?

 

LULL

It the Pope Martian?

 

Lull's assistant, the TECHNICIAN in background, who had been steadily working on the instrumentation, now looks over at Lull.

 

ERNIE (TECHNICIAN)

(at machine)

Okay – that's it.

 

Now, Lull extends a long rubber tube, a hypodermic needle attached to it. Quail eyes it warily. She swabs the back of his hand in preparation, notices his apprehension.

 

LULL

Now, just relax, kid. This ain't gonna hurt. Just a controlled drip of Narkadine. When you're under, I'll just ask ya a few questions, nothin' real personal, just full details of yer private life so's we can tailor the wish-fulfillment program to your needs.

 

She injects the needle into his hand as she speaks, tapes it down.

 

LULL

(continuing)

See? Painless. I didn't feel a thing. Hey, you're a nice kid... you like a little somethin' extra?

 

Quail, embarrassed, starting to go under, nods.

 

LULL

(continuing; pleased)

Good! Kid – have I got a girl for you! She's gonna like you. You're good-lookin'.

(beat)

Gettin' sleepy?

(he nods)

Good. Now, what's the first thing you think of when you're thinkin' about Mars?

 

QUAIL

(wistfully)

Well... I'd like to see the Martian Sphinx...

 

LULL

Okay – you will, Dougle! I want ya to start counting backwards from a hundred for me.

 

QUAIL

(sleepily)

One hundred... ninety-nine... ninety-eight... ninety-seven... ninety-six... ninety-five... .

 

His voice drops off; his eyes close. Lull studies him, adjusts some instruments, then turns to Ernie, glancing briefly at a typed sheet in front of her.

 

LULL

Okay, Ernie, the trip to Mars; number sixty-two... and throw in that blonde... We'll give him a real good time.

 

ERNIE

Sixty-two... and... the blonde...

 

He takes two discs and inserts the first one into a machine.

 

ERNIE

Boy, is this one wild. He won't want to come back.

 

Ernie inserts the second disk.

 

LULL

Dougie? This Sophie Lull. Can ya hear me?

 

QUAIL

... Sophie...

 

LULL

Good!... I'm gonna ask ya a few more questions now. Ya think you'll be able to answer 'em?

 

QUAIL

... Yes...

 

LULL

Attaboy! To begin with, I wanna ask ya; – You sex life. How many orgasms a week?

 

 

INT. McCLANE'S OFFICE – DAY

 

McClane has several file drawers open and is removing diverse objects and placing them on his desk.

 

These items apparently are objects Rekall, Inc. intends to "plant" for some client of theirs to find (perhaps even Quail) – as part of his fantasy.

 

While he is putting these things on his desk, the PHONE BUZZES. He answers it.

 

McCLANE

Yes?

 

LULL (V.O.)

(filtered; tense)

Howie? Listen, you'd better get in here.

 

McCLANE

(not too concerned)

Not another schizoid embolism.

 

LULL (V.O.)

(filtered)

You'd better get in here.

 

 

INT. MEMORY STUDIO – DAY

 

McClane come quickly in, brushing the swinging door open.

 

Lull and Ernie look up as he enters. Quail lies on the couch, breathing slowly and regularly, his eyes closed. McClane looks queryingly at Lull, who motions him to silence.

 

LULL

(bends over Quail)

Quail? Dougie, can you hear me?

 

QUAIL

Yes.

 

LULL

Tell McClane what you told us.

 

McClane glances sharply at Lull, then turns to Quail.

 

Quail's eyes open and scan the room. They settle on McClane. These eyes have changed: they have become cold and steely. In fact, Quail's entire personality seems to have changed – his face has acquired a flint-edged hardness. He is chillingly menacing.

 

QUAIL

(a deadly voice)

All of you in this room are dead.

 

McCLANE

(not quite taking it seriously)

What's he talking about?

 

QUAIL

You've broken my cover.

 

McCLANE

What is this?...

 

McClane's eyes flash angrily at Lull.

 

LULL

The Narkadine cracked a memory cap. Mars –

(she's scared)

He's really been there.

 

There is a chilly silence in the room as McClane digests this.

 

McCLANE

Forced suppression?

 

ERNIE

With spontaneous breakthrough.

 

McCLANE

Holy shit.

 

They stare at Quail as if he's a ticking bomb.

 

QUAIL

(coldly)

You've compromised the Sphinx Project. You'll have to be silenced.

 

Now they're all panicked.

 

McCLANE

Wait a minute. Quail –

 

QUAIL

My name isn't Quail.