ACT ONE
Scene One
An image of a man with two shopping bags in a white shirt, standing in front of a line of tanks. It is important he is Chinese... but we cannot see this from the photograph. It is important it was taken by an American... but we cannot know this simply by looking at it. It is a photograph of heroism. It is a photograph of protest. It is a photograph of one country by another country.
Scene Two
5th June, 1989. A hotel room overlooking Tiananmen Square. Split scene, JOE SCHOFIELD (nineteen) is speaking on the landline phone with his editor, FRANK (forty-five), in the newsroom of a New York newspaper. JOE has his camera slung round his neck, watching the square below. Itâs around ten a.m. for JOE, eleven p.m. for FRANK.
FRANK. Weâre trying to get you on the ten fifteen out of Beijing tomorrow morning, but the airportâs in chaos, the BBC might have a spot on their charter, did you meet Kate Adie yet?
JOE. No, I donât think so.
FRANK. Sheâs a doll. Underneath, you sure youâre not hurt?
JOE. I told you, Iâm fine.
FRANK. I should neverâve sent you overseas, not so soon, not on your own, a situation like this, you need experience â
JOE. It was a student protest, didnât know it was gonna turn into a massacre, / did we?
FRANK. Youâre not even old enough to drink, chrissakes, what was I â donât go out again, okay? You stay there, in the hotel, just focus on getting those films back to us.
JOE. You gonna give me a front page, Frank?
FRANK. Yes, Joey, I think three hundred Chinese people being gunned down by their own government warrants a little more than a hundred words on page six, donât you?
JOE. It was more than that. I was down there, Frank, it was â three hundred, is that what theyâre saying? I donât know, but it was a lot more than â
JOE freezes, looking out of the window.
Oh fuck.
JOE moves to the window, crouches down, watching the man who has walked out.
FRANK. Joe?
JOE. Oh fuck, what is he doing? What is he â Jesus, get out of the road, you stupid â
JOE realises the manâs actions are entirely intentional.
Oh my God.
FRANK. Whatâs going on there? Joey, talk to me, what are you â
JOE. This guy. He has these... bags, like grocery bags and he... he just walked out in front of the tanks, and heâs just standing there like â I mean, they could just run him right over. But he wonât move, he wonât move, heâs, heâs incredible, I wish you could...
JOE stares, transfixed, breathless. Unconsciously copies the Tank Manâs movements, as if he were holding two shopping bags.
FRANK. Okay, Joe, donât worry, weâre going to get you / out of â
JOE. Will you just shut up a second?
Frank, this guy, heâs my age.
I think Iâm about to watch him get shot.
Silence. JOE picks up his camera. Starts taking pictures.
FRANK. Well, did they do it yet?
JOE. No. Not yet. Iâm gonna put down the phone for a second.
JOE lays the receiver down. Takes pictures. Suddenly, banging on the door.
(Sotto.) Shit.
He gently hangs up the phone.
FRANK. Joe? Whatâs happening â
Lights down on FRANK. JOE quickly winds his camera film to the end. Takes the film out, grabs more used films from his bag, empties dirty underwear out of a plastic bag, puts the films in, ties a tight knot. The phone rings. JOE makes a silent gesture at it, runs off, to the bathroom. The phone stops ringing. The banging ceases. JOE returns without the films. Listening. He goes to the door, puts his ear to it. Puts a new film in his camera, takes shot after shot of the carpet. Shaking with adrenaline. Gathers his camera bag, film. Pulls on his jacket. The phone rings, he dives for it, whispers:
JOE. Frank?
Lights up on FRANK.
FRANK. Jesus, Joey, what are you trying to do to me!
JOE. There were fucking guards outside the door!
FRANK. Well, are they gone? Are you okay?
JOE. Yeah! My heartâs fucking, like, you know?
FRANK. Yeah, what about your films?
JOE. I put them in the toilet cistern â
FRANK. Good boy. You get a good frame of that guy?
JOE. I donât know, I was just spraying and praying, listen, Frank, Iâll call you back â
FRANK. You will not call me back, you stay on this line, / you hear me!
JOE. Frank, I lost him, I / have to â
FRANK. What dâyou mean, you lost him?
JOE. I mean I canât see him any more, I have to go down there, see if I can â
The door smashes open. A swarm of CHINESE SOLDIERS enter. JOE drops the phone, stands, puts his hands up, backs away.
FRANK. Joe? JOEY!
Lights down on FRANK as the SOLDIERS shout at JOE in Mandarin. JOE remains frozen with his hands up as one SOLDIER steadily aims at him while another grabs his camera, takes the film out, throws the camera against the wall. Punches JOE in the stomach, JOE sinks to the floor. Chaos, violence, shouts in Chinese dialects as we travel forward twenty-three years to...
Scene Three
A plane. JOE is forty-two years old. MEL STANWYCK (forty-five) to his right, TESSA KENDRICK (English) to his left, reading a magazine, knocking back a cocktail. JOE and MEL have beers.
MEL. Itâs a seven-star hotel, Joe. Why wouldnât you want to stay in a seven-star hotel?
JOE. I told you â
MEL. The website says it has an âauspicious gardenâ. An auspicious garden, Joe.
JOE. Yeah but I havenât seen Zhang Lin / for â
MEL. Sure, right, your friend.
An AIR HOSTESS enters. TESS speaks quietly to her, she takes TESSâs empty glass and goes.
JOE. First time I went back to Beijing, Mel, I was so green you wouldnât believe it, Zhang Lin asks to meet me, offers to teach me Mandarin, he bought me a suit â I ever tell you that, he bought me a fucking Armani suit! We only have two days, I just want to hang out with him a li...