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Scarface
By: Oliver Stone
"Enjoy yourself -- every day above ground is a good day. - ANONYMOUS, MIAMI 1981
1 A PROLOGUE
crawls up the screen -- with Narrator.
NARRATOR
In May 1980, Fidel Castro -- in an effort to normalize relations with the Carter Administration -- opened the harbor at Mariel, Cuba with the apparent intention of letting some of his people join their relatives in the United States. Within seventy-two hours, 3,000 U.S. boats were headed for Cuba. In the next few weeks, it became evident that Castro was forcing the boat owners to carry back with t
The prologue is shredded diagonally by the blade of a
stiletto and in the empty black void we:
CUT TO
Opening Montage - Documentary Footage:
2 THE DISEMBARKATION
from the harbor in Mariel, Cuba. Vessels of every nature,
waving masses, demonstrations....
3 THE CROSSING
Sun and storm.
4 THE LANDING - KEY WEST
The flag of the United States. Choppers swooping over the ragged coastline of the Keys. Emerald waters dotted with fishing trawlers and pleasure craft, an "America the Beautiful"-type Immigration theme surging over this.
5 THE PROCESSING
Long lines. Immigration and Nationalization Officials, customs, Public Health, FBI, Church and Relief Organizations.
Babies bawling, arguments over paperwork, refugees being
interviewed by TV news, people crying, people eating,
families huddled on floors... chaos.
The music theme continuing in stately calm as we:
CUT TO
6 INT. OFFICE - PROCESSING HALL - AFTERNOON -
A FULL and CLOSEUP OF
7 TONY MONTANA 7
the scar-faced one, in the young angry prime of his life.
We dwell first on the scar which he likes to scratch now and
then. We move to the eyes, pure in their fury. Finally we
encompass the face -- the face of a man about to explode --
muscle, tissue, brain -- a man willing to live or die and
on the increment of a moment, inflict or receive either one.
He is clothed in rags crossed with holes, his shoes broken
cardboard, his hair unkempt, his complexion sallow from
prison.
Over this:
VOICE #1 (o.s.)
Okay so what do you call yourself?
VOICE #2 (o.s.)
Como se llama?
MONTANA
Tony Montana...you?
VOICE #1
Where'd you learn to speak the English, Tony?
MONTANA
My old man -- he was American. Sailor. Bum.
I always know, y'know, one day I gonna come to America.
I see all the movies...
VOICE #1
So where's your old man now?
MONTANA
He's dead. He died. Somewhere...
VOICE #1
Mother?
TONY
She's dead too.
VOICE #2
What kind of work you do in Cuba, Tony?
TONY
This. That. The Army. Some construction work....
VOICE #2
Unhunh. Got any family in the States, Tony? Cousins, brother-in-law?
TONY
(a beat)
Nobody. Everybody's dead.
MAN #I
Y'ever been in jail, Tony?
TONY
Me jail? No way.
We now reveal three men in civilian clothing in the dark afternoon light of the little room. Actually it's a plywood office somewhere in the processing hall and we hear the din from the hall over the question and answer. Two of the men sit around a desk, the Third Man stands in a corner, staring at Tony, the most authoritative-looking of the three.
MAN #l
(checking off a list)
You been in a mental hospital, Tony?
TONY
(grinning)
Yeah, in the boat coming over.
MAN #1
How 'bout homosexuality, Tony? You like men, y'like to dress up like a woman?
TONY
(to Man #2)
Never tried it. What the fuck's wrong with this guy, what's he think I am?
MAN #2
Just answer the questions, Tony.
The voices of the men remain cool and collected throughout.
TONY
(to Man #1)
Fuck no.
MAN #1
Arrested? Vagrancy? Marijuana?
TONY
NO. ...NO. Never. Nothing.
His eye movements are rapid (over shoulders, sides, doors)
and he does a lot of touching -- objects -- lightly with the
tips of the fingers. Man #3 is stepping forward out of the
shadows.
MAN #3
So where'd you get the beauty scar?
TONY
This?..
(scratching the scar, shrugs)
I was a kid. You should see the other kid.
(a grim chuckle)
MAN #3
And this?
He holds up Tony's hand and indicates the tattoo between the
thumb and second finger -- a heart with the word "Madre"
scaled through it.
TONY
Oh that was for my sweetheart.
MAN #3
Sweetheart?
(to the other men)
We been seeing more and more of these. It's some kinda code these guys used in the can. Pitchfork means an assassin
or something. This one's new... You want to tell us, Montana or you want to take a little trip to the detention center?
TONY
Hey, so I was in the can once for buying dollars. Big deal.
MAN #3
That's pretty funny, Tony.
TONY
Some Canadian tourist....
MAN #3
What'd you mug him first? Get him outta here!
(starts to walk out)
TONY
Hey, so I fuck Castro, what's it to you? You a Communist or something?
How would you like it they tell you all the time what to think, what to do, you wanna be like a sheep, like everybody else. Baa baa? Puta! You want a stoolie on every block? You wanna work eight hours a day and you never own nothing? I ate octopus three times a day, fucking octopus is coming out my ears, fuckin' Russian shoes are eating through my feet. Whaddaya want? You want me to stay there? He
Silence.
There's a certain eloquence to the man`s plea but
it falls on disbelieving ears. One of them chuckles.
MAN #l
Carter should see this human right. He's good. He's very good. What do you say Harry?
MAN #3
(walking out)
I... 'Freedomtown.' Let them take a look at him. A long look.
TONY
Hey, that's okay, too, Harry. No hard feelings.
Man #3 at the door stops, looks back.
TONY
Send me here, send me there. This.
That. Nothing you can do to me
Harry, Castro didn't do -- nothing....
That taunting smile on Tony's lips as, to the music of the
immigration theme, we:
DISSOLVE TO
7-A INT. FEDERAL BUS - HOUR LATER 7-A
The bus is packed with the harder-looking refugee-types.
The windows are caged and we see INS guards.
The noise level is high, like a sack of monkeys.
Manny (Manolo) Ribera's got his feet up on an empty seat.
He's big, strong, handsome, with dashing darkly feminine
eyes -- younger than Tony, and dapper in his cheap clothing.
He's eating a Baby Ruth candy bar.
MANNY
Seat's taken.
TONY
So I'll sit in your lap.
Tony pushes his feet off, sits. He takes the Baby Ruth out
of Manny's hand, peels out the bar of chocolate, then
returns the empty wrapper to Manny,
TONY
So what'd you tell them?
MANNY
I told them what you told me to tell them. I told them I was in sanitation in Cuba.
TONY
I didn't tell you sanitation. I told you to tell them you was in a sanitarium, not sanitation.
The bus pulling out now.
MANNY
Is that what you told me? You didn't tell me that.
TONY
You know if you hadn't opened your mouth, they woulda thought you were a horse. I told you to tell them you had TB and was cured.
MANNY
Fuck you Tony....
TONY
You did nothing right. I shoulda left you in Cuba.
7-B EXT. MIAMI FROM BUS - ESTABLISHING SHOT 7-B
of Miami as, to the music of the Immigration theme, we:
DISSOLVE TO
8 INT. TONY'S TENT - FREEDOMTOWN - NIGHT (SIX MONTHS LATER) 8
A movie projector...
...the face of Bogart -- unshaven, paranoid. We're watching a badly damaged 16 mm print of The Treasure of the Sierra-Madre. It's near the end of the film and he's alone, talking to himself just before the bandits get him....
The rag-tag audience is noisily yammering back at the screen,
the camera moving past Manny Ray, chewing gum, hair slicked,
eyes in cat-like repose... to Tony, enrapt, eyes like an eleven year old, mouth hanging open.
BOGART
What a thing.
Conscience. Conscience.
If you believe you've got a conscience, it`ll pester you to death. But if you don't believe you've got one, what can it do to you? Makes me sick so much talking and fussing about nonsense.
Time to go to sleep.
(closes his eyes
but not for long)
CUT TO
9 INT. TENT - LATER THAT NIGHT 9
Tony is moving down 23rd Street, the walk proud and jungle
in the rock of the hips and the cast of the shoulders --
now accompanied by his handsome compadre, Manny.
TONY
That Bogart, Chico, hunh?
MANNY
Fucking crazy, hunh!
TONY
That gold dust blowing in the wind.
Y'see Manny, he's always looking over his shoulder. Hunh? Like me....
He hunches, darting exaggerated looks over his shoulder,
imitating Bogart. Manny laughs. In his black shirt with
zig-zag dots and colors and the baggy pants and sunglasses,
Tony's starting to look American. He's even got himself a
pop button pinned to his shirt that says "Fuck Off and Die."
And his English rolls faster off his tongue, his confidence
more pronounced.
TONY
. . . don't trust nobody.
MANNY
Yeah all that gold, hunh -- I guess you get so crazy you never trust nobody no more.
TONY
Never happen to me, Chico. That's one thing I never gonna be. I never gonna be crazy like that.
MANNY
Yeah, how do you know....
TONY
I know.
MANNY
I don't know. Sometimes you crazy, too, Tony.
TONY
Assholes, I go crazy. You Manny, I never go crazy with you. You're
like my brother, I love you!
MANNY
Yeah, sure.
TONY
Hey, c'mon.
Tony playfully punches Manny and they walk on into the humid night, intersecting a young punk, Chi-Chi.
CHI-CHI
(to Manny; Spanish)
Hey Manny.
MANNY
Oye Chi-Chi, what's going down.
CHI-CHI
Usual shit. Want some peanuts? Pago's carrying tonight.
MANNY
I don't know, I get all fucked up on it....
CHI-CHI
Want some new snatch? A pussycat
name of Yolanda just rolled onto the
Boulevard ---
MANNY
Oh yeah, what she look like?
CHI-CHI
She look like you 'cept she got a snatch.
MANNY
A real snatch?
CHI-CHI
You're not kidding. It talks.
As they chatter, Tony moves on with a movement of the head
for Manny. "Later."
He's in the middle of the "Boulevard" where a bustling black
market in toiletries, clothing, cigarettes, and transvestites is conducted nightly in the harsh glare of barrack neon.
He ambles past a bunch of young guys throwing a Frisbee,
past a "Viva Carter!" proclamation in graffiti....
TRANSVESTITE
(passing)
What about you sugar -- you wanna party?
TONY
(passing her)
Yeah with whose cock, honey?
CUT TO
10 EXT. FREEDOMTOWN GROUNDS - NIGHT 10
Tony, five minutes later, in a phone booth, in the middle of a bank of them, dozens of Marielietos pressing to get in, trying still to contact somebody -- anybody -- on the outside.
Tony is dialing, his eyes shifting down to the telephone
number written in pencil on the back of a snapshot- As he
finishes the number, he flips the snapshot over and we see
a young girl, about thirteen years old, dark, tiny, fiery,
standing together with a dog and Tony, early twenties, in
shadow, the fringes of the photo heavily tattered with
handling. Tony stares at it, his mind drifting as the phone
rings in a distant place. A brief moment of repose we have
not yet seen in Tony.
Someone picks up the phone. An older woman's Voice. His
expression alters to uncertainty.
VOICE
Yes? ...Hello? ...Who is this?
Tony changes his mind, hangs up. Pause. The faces of those
in line peer in, the next party raps on the door, but Tony
ignores it, slips the snapshot back into the wallet in his
pants, then at his own pace, exits the phone booth.
He walks a few beats, his eyes pensive. Then recognizes
somebody in another phone booth and goes over.
Angel Fernandez has got the face of one, as he argues on
the phone, then hangs up, a desolate look on his face, a
worn phone book in his hand.
TONY
Angel, how ya doin'?
ANGEL
You know how many goddamn Fernandezes are living in fucking Union City? And I gotta call every fucking one of 'em to find my brother!
TONY
(in passing)
Don't waste your dime, Chico. You know your brother hates you.
ANGEL
Go fuck yourself, Tony.
Manny catches up to Tony.
TONY
Whatcha hanging around with that hustler for?
MANNY
Hey Chi-Chi's okay, he hears things,
TONY
What's he hear I don't hear.
Angel comes over, listens.
MANNY
He hears we got problems. Immigration is having these hearings, y ' know? And they're saying nine out of ten of us is gonna get shipped back!
TONY
Oh yeah?
MANNY
Yeah. And a lotta shit just went down at Indiantown Gap. In Pennsylvania. Riots, fires, broken heads... things are gonna pop here.
TONY
Shit, I coulda told you that.
MANNY
Yeah, so what do you think the immigration's gonna do when we riot? You think they're gonna let us out? They're gonna throw away the key, that's what.
ANGEL
Oh shit!
MANNY
What's I say. This is gonna end bad, muchachos....
TONY
Hey, I tell you guys this isn't Cuba here, this is the United States. They got nothing but lawyers here. We're on the television. We're in the newspapers. Whatta they gonna do -- ship us back to Cuba? Castro-- he don't want us. Nobody no place wants us so whatta they gonna do -- put us in a gas chamber so all the people can see? They're stuck with us, Chico -- they gotta let us go!
MANNY
Yeah, well, what if we gotta sit here another six months, hunh?
TONY
You worry too much, mi hermano. Like the man says, 'when you got 'em by the balls, their hearts and minds gonna follow' --hunh?
Tony winks and walks off.
The radio is playing hard rock, something like Blondie or Benatar from the stoop of a nearby barrack. Tony loves the sound and swings into it, snapping his fingers and rolling his hips like Presley. He back-peddles, smiling at Manny and Angel.
TONY
(in awful imitation)
'Oh yeah America! Love-to love you baby, oh yeah!'
CUT TO
11 EXT. PLAYING FIELD - DAY - TWO WEEKS LATER
Camera on Tony shuffling and feinting a soccer ball in an impromptu game; he's covered with sweat, tires a fancy move
around a younger kid who not only steals the ball away off him but manages to lay him flat on his face.
TONY
(lying there)
Aw fuck....
The game, leaving him behind, shifts downfield.
MANNY
Aye ! Tony! C'mon!
Manny, just arrived at the edge of the field, waves him off.
Tony, getting up, brushing himself off, walks off the field
towards him.
ANGEL
(at a distance)
Hey Tony where ya going?
TONY
I got better things to do.
ANGEL
Chicken liver, hunh?
TONY
(to Manny)
Yeah?
(looking zd)
Let's walk.
They walk.
MANNY
You ready for the good news, cone?
TONY
Yeah.
MANNY
We can be outta here in thirty days.
Not only that. We got a green card and a job in Miami! Hunh? We're made, Chico, we're made?
TONY
Yeah, whadda we gotta do, go to Cuba and hit the Beard or what?
Angel is walking towards them. Tony signals him.
MANNY
(shakes his head)
Forget it. Oh yeah -- there's a hundred greenbacks in it, For both of us.
TONY
(enthusiastic)
Hey you're kidding, that's great!
But Manny, you tell your guys Angel gets out with us.
As Rebenga, in long-lensed closeup, nervously smokes a
cigarette, eyes roving as the guard examines his papers.
CUT TO
13 MONTAGE - THE RIOT - FREEDOMTOWN - DAY
The visuals are swift, dispassionate and documentary-like.
The refugees storm the barbed wire at the main gate,
carrying bricks and wooden slats.
ALL
(in unison)
Libertad! Libertad!
14 NATIONAL GUARDSMEN AND STATE POLICE
form ranks outside.
15 REFUGEES
flee through a hole in the fence.
16 GUARDS
move on them, wielding clubs.
17 SEVERAL REFUGEES
are scooting down a highway.
18 POLICE DOGS
on chains are glimpsed.
19 REFUGEES
throw stones and debris from the rooftop of a barrack.
20 REBENGA
a cigarette in his mouth, nervously hurries into a barrack.
21 ANGEL
tracks him, signals....
22 INSIDE - REFUGEES
are pulling apart their beds, going for the wooden slats.
Others set fire to their mattresses.
23 THE POLICE AND GUARDS
are moving through the gates, restoring order. Loudspeakers
blast. Injured refugees lie bleeding on the grounds.
24 AN ENTIRE BARRACK
now goes up in flames.
25 INSIDE THE BARRACK
A bewildered Emilio Rebenga grabs his papers and valuables.
Manny runs up on him.
Rebenga sees him, senses danger, flees down the aisle with his satchel, intersecting other panicked refugees.
Manny follows.
Rebenga stumbles into a bed frame, shatters his glasses,
then runs on. Into the smoke and flame. Out of which Scarface now appears -- in his killing wrath.
TONY
Rebenga!
Rebenga snaps to the sound of the voice.
TONY
(Spanish)
From the friends you fucked!
The work is fast. The stiletto punches nine quick holes in his lungs and his heart... And the figure of death is gone.
...And Emilio Rebenga staggers wildly in the smoke, uncomprehending eyes encased in broken glasses. Sinking out of frame.
26 EXT. FREEDOMTOWN - DAY
The riot is over. The grounds are still, smoke and debris the aftermath.
DISSOLVE TO
27 INT. PROCESSING ROOM - DAY - A MONTH LATER
An Immigration Officer passes a sheaf of documents across a desk into a pair of hands. The camera gliding along a Green Card pinned to the top of the stack.
It says "ANTHONY MONTANA" and it has picture and stamps. It's official, as the camera moves with triumphant immigration theme music to the face of Mr. Montana examining quite contentedly the rewards of his efforts.
End of montage. Music continues.
DISSOLVE TO
27-A EXT. DOWNTOWN MIAMI - SUNNY DAY
The new Miami is rising ubiquitously above Biscayne Bay,
the camera moving past blossoming skyscrapers, workmen,
huge cranes, glass, mirrors booming upwards into a
beautiful blue Florida sky, fleeced with perfectly white
clouds... past a giant billboard:
HOW ABOUT A MILLION DOLLAR LOAN?
COME TALK TO US...
AT THE BANCO DE MIAMI...
TODAY!
Past banks of glass (Caribank, Banco de Venezuela, Amerifirst)...
Insert a car sticker going by with the image of the American flag and the reminder: "Will the last American leaving Miami please bring flag?"
Tony and Manny bop along the street in their hand-me-down
clothes, oogling the chicas and the bodegas (in a plush
modern area of Miami). Boats. Buildings. Cars.
TONY
(looking around)
Boy -- can you believe this place, Chico?
MANNY
(Spanish)
Man, they weren't kidding around.
TONY
(pointing to a little old man walking towards them)
See that old guy over there?
MANNY
Yeah.
TONY
Millionaire.
MANNY
How do you know?
TONY
Go over there. Ask him gimme some money. He'll give you the silver right outta his pants -- that's America man, that's what they do here.
MANNY
(almost believing)
Yeah? Hey Tony catch this tomato.
(adjusting his pants)
Ooooh baby doll...
A hot Cuban girl in heels comes down the sidewalk towards
them with a female friend.
TONY
Hey baby what you say?
She looks at him like he was the last thing in the world
she'd say anything to.
Tony waves her off, then changes his mind and runs up
behind her and throws up her skirt and peeks at her ass.
Before she can react, he hops away laughing as the two
Cuban girls ad-lib Spanish expletives at him.
MANNY
Hey that's not cool, man. You wanna score one of these chicks, watch me. Mira!
He wiggles his tongue up and down, fast like a small
whirring motor part, then slips it back into his mouth in
the flick of an eye.
TONY
...the fuck was that?
MANNY
You didn't see it? You weren't looking. Hey you gotta watch for it.
Does it again, quickly; it looks like a baby robin's head
peeking out of a nest in his teeth, then it's gone.
TONY
What the hell's that for -- eating bugs? That's disgustin'.
MANNY
You think so hunh? Well you don't know shit 'bout chicks Chico. When they see this, they know. They go crazy. They don't resist me.
Does it again. Tony tries but lacks the speed and agility, provoking Manny's laughter. Many double checks himself in a shop window.
MANNY
(doing it again)
Takes practice, mi sangre, but they just love it when you flop that pussy with it....
TONY
Oooh... cono! How 'bout that one?
Pointing to a tall, cool blonde across the avenue.
MANNY
No problem.
27-B EXT. MIAMI SHOPPING STREET - DAY
Tony walks right out into the avenue, sticking out his arm
and stopping traffic. Cars honk angrily but he couldn't
give a shit.
TONY
Come on?
Manny follows as Tony now moves across the opposite lane, a
car screeching to a halt in front of him.
TONY
(points)
Okay Rober Retfor, strut your stuff.
The blonde has paused to look in a shop window.
Manny stops alongside, pretends to look. When he catches
her eyes, he flicks his tongue.
She looks at him, confused, then back into the window.
Manny look back at Tony, winks, sidles closer to her.
Tony, waiting off to the side, catches the gaze of a somber
child, four, toddling along with it's mom. He makes his
own version of a funny face at the kid who looks back at
him puzzled. Tony produces another face. The kid now
smiles. The mother looks over. Tony shrugs. She smiles
and moves along.
Meanwhile, Manny has moved close to the blonde and suggests something, his eyebrows raising, the smile crooked. It takes a moment, then the blonde smacks him across the face
and walks away.
Tony walks over to him, mocking.
TONY
Pobre hijo de puta -- you got it all mixed up.
This country first you gotta get the money, then you get
the power and when you got the power, then you get the women -- and then, Chico, you got the world by the balls. Por los conjones.
MANNY
There you go talking big again man. You don't know shit about the world. Who was it got us the green card, who got us the friends with the connections, hunh -- who's getting us a job? You or me? Not you man. You lucky you have any friends. You lucky to have me as a friend....
As they walk off, backs to camera.
TONY
Yeah, so where's this job?
MANNY
Don't push man, my friends gonna take care of everything.
CUT TO
28 LITTLE HAVANA RESTAURANT - LITTLE HAVANA - NIGHT
on Southwest 8th Street. "Calle Ocho"....
The parking lot is crammed with Moby Dick-size cars and
casual Cubans in sports clothes bunched in conversations
around their wheels or at the ice cream stand.
The inside is a brightly lit glitterdome with fancy mirrors and chandelier effects, Spanish in influence, and every table is taken. It combines the social functions of a family restaurant, cafe, tourist haunt and late-night watering hole for various beasts of prey.
The waitresses move like well-oiled troops along the paths
to the kitchen, turning the tables at a speedy rate. The
camera following past the pots and the pans and the steam
and the yelling cooks -- to the deepest, darkest recess of
this dungeon....
. . . To reveal Tony Montana stubbing grease off the pots and
Manny Ray washing a stack of dishes. They're filthy and
exhausted. A dish slips through Manny's fingers and crashes
to the floor. A look between them suffices to tell us all.
TONY
Your big shot friend better come up with something soon. I didn't come to America to break my fucking back, querido.
MANNY
(equally irritated)
Hey he's coming okay! What do you want?
CUT TO
29 INT./EXT. LITTLE HAVANA RESTAURANT - NIGHT - HOURS LATER
We are looking through a cubbyhole at the diners. Young
Cuban guys with chiquitas drift in with their fancy clothes,
diamonds and -- the mark of status -- large bodyguards.
They're out front with the flash, shaking hands with friends, kissing, talking loud, familiar with the waitresses.
Staring through the smeared window enrapt are Tony and
Manny, wiping the sweat off their faces with towels.
MANNY
Look at that chick man, wow! Look at them knockers.
TONY
Yeah, look at the punk with her.
What's he got that I don't got?
MANNY
He's good-looking that's what, look at his clothes, flash Chico, pizzazz! A little coke money don't hurt nobody...
TONY
Junkie! -- They got no fuckin' character.
(looks at his hands)
Cono! Look at these... fucking Onions! They outta be picking gold off the streets.
His hands are shriveled white from dishwater.
COOK
(Spanish)
Hey you two, outside! You got company...
MANNY
That's him -- El Mono's here!
TONY
(contemptuous of the name)
El Mono? Shit....
CUT TO
30 EXT. PARKING LOT OUTSIDE LITTLE HAVANA RESTAURANT - NIGHT
Omar Suarez (El Mono -- "The Monkey") is so named cause he
looks like one. Nervous, crooked, darting eyes, feverish
intelligence, constantly smoking a cigarette and coughing
between words, his face pock-marked and pitted like the moon from an old acne scars, he cuts a skinny figure at the wheel of a big beige Coupe De Ville, idling the motor... with him is Waldo Rojas eating a large foot and a half banana. In contrast he's amiable, heavyset with a receding hairline, flashing a lot of gold when he smiles.
MANNY
(leaning in the window)
Hey Omar, Waldo, coma esta... my friend I told you about. Tony Montana... Omar Suarez, Waldo Rojas....
Waldo mumbles something indistinct, Omar just stares briefly as Tony hangs back, nodding arrogantly. Omar's eyes move back to Manny.
OMAR
I got something for you.
MANNY
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