Schindler's List
Writers: Steven Zaillian
"SCHINDLER'S LIST"
BY
Steven Zaillian
Final Draft
IN BLACK AND WHITE:
TRAIN WHEELS grinding against track, slowing. FOLDING TABLE
LEGS scissoring open. The LEVER of a train door being pulled.
NAMES on lists on clipboards held by clerks moving alongside
the tracks.
CLERKS (V.O.)
...Rossen... Lieberman... Wachsberg...
BEWILDERED RURAL FACES coming down off the passenger train.
FORMS being set out on the folding tables. HANDS straightening
pens and pencils and ink pads and stamps.
CLERKS (V.O.)
...When your name is called go over
there... take this over to that
table...
TYPEWRITER KEYS rapping a name onto a list. A FACE. KEYS
typing another name. Another FACE.
CLERKS (V.O.)
...you’re in the wrong line, wait
over there... you, come over here...
A MAN is taken from one long line and led to the back of
another. A HAND hammers a rubber stamp at a form. Tight on a
FACE. KEYS type another NAME. Another FACE. Another NAME.
CLERKS (V.O.)
...Biberman... Steinberg...
Chilowitz...
As a hand comes down stamping a GRAY STRIPE across a
registration card, there is absolute silence... then MUSIC,
the Hungarian love song, "Gloomy Sunday," distant... and the
stripe bleeds into COLOR, into BRIGHT YELLOW INK.
INT. HOTEL ROOM - CRACOW, POLAND - NIGHT
The song plays from a radio on a rust-stained sink.
The light in the room is dismal, the furniture cheap. The
curtains are faded, the wallpaper peeling... but the clothes
laid out across the single bed are beautiful.
The hands of a man button the shirt, belt the slacks. He
slips into the double-breasted jacket, knots the silk tie,
folds a handkerchief and tucks it into the jacket pocket,
all with great deliberation.
A bureau. Some currency, cigarettes, liquor, passport. And
an elaborate gold-on-black enamel Hakenkreuz (or swastika)
which the gentleman pins to the lapel of his elegant dinner
jacket.
He steps back to consider his reflection in the mirror. He
likes what he sees: Oskar Schindler -- salesman from Zwittau --
looking almost reputable in his one nice suit.
Even in this awful room.
INT. NIGHTCLUB - CRACOW, POLAND - NIGHT
A spotlight slicing across a crowded smoke-choked club to a
small stage where a cabaret performer sings.
It’s September, 1939. General Sigmund List's armored
divisions, driving north from the Sudetenland, have taken
Cracow, and now, in this club, drinking, socializing,
conducting business, is a strange clientele: SS officers and
Polish cops, gangsters and girls and entrepreneurs, thrown
together by the circumstance of war.
Oskar Schindler, drinking alone, slowly scans the room, the
faces, stripping away all that’s unimportant to him, settling
only on details that are: the rank of this man, the higher
rank of that one, money being slipped into a hand.
WAITER SETS DOWN DRINKS
in front of the SS officer who took the money. A lieutenant,
he’s at a table with his girlfriend and a lower-ranking
officer.
WAITER
From the gentleman.
The waiter is gesturing to a table across the room where
Schindler, seemingly unaware of the SS men, drinks with the
best-looking woman in the place.
LIEUTENANT
Do I know him?
His sergeant doesn’t. His girlfriend doesn't.
LIEUTENANT
Find out who he is.
The sergeant makes his way over to Schindler's table.
There's a handshake and introductions before -- and the
lieutenant, watching, can't believe it -- his guy accepts
the chair Schindler's dragging over.
The lieutenant waits, but his man doesn't come back; he's
forgotten already he went there for a reason. Finally, and
it irritates the SS man, he has to get up and go over there.
LIEUTENANT
Stay here.
His girlfriend watches him cross toward Schindler's table.
Before he even arrives, Schindler is up and berating him for
leaving his date way over there across the room, waving at
the girl to come join them, motioning to waiter to slide
some tables together.
WAITERS ARRIVE WITH PLATES OF CAVIAR
and another round of drinks. The lieutenant makes a
halfhearted move for his wallet.
LIEUTENANT
Let me get this one.
SCHINDLER
No, put it away, put it away.
Schindler's already got his money out. Even as he's paying,
his eyes are working the room, settling on a table where a
girl is declining the advances of two more high-ranking SS
men.
A TABLECLOTH BILLOWS
as a waiter lays it down on another table that's been added
to the others. Schindler seats the SS officers on either
side of his own "date" --
SCHINDLER
What are you drinking, gin?
He motions to a waiter to refill the men's drinks, and,
returning to the head of the table(s), sweeps the room again
with his eyes.
ROAR OF LAUGHTER
erupts from Schindler's party in the corner. Nobody's having
a better time than those people over there. His guests have
swelled to ten or twelve -- SS men, Polish cops, girls --
and he moves among them like the great entertainer he is,
making sure everybody's got enough to eat and drink.
Here, closer, at this table across the room, an SS officer
gestures to one of the SS men who an hour ago couldn't get
the girl to sit at his table. The guy comes over.
SS OFFICER 1
Who is that?
SS OFFICER 2
(like everyone knows)
That's Oskar Schindler. He's an old
friend of... I don't know, somebody's.
GIRL WITH A BIG CAMERA
screws in a flashbulb. She lifts the unwieldy thing to her
face and focuses.
As the bulb flashes, the noise of the club suddenly drops
out, and the moment is caught in BLACK and WHITE: Oskar
Schindler, surrounded by his many new friends, smiling
urbanely.
EXT. SQUARE - CRACOW - DAY
A photograph of a face on a work card, BLACK and WHITE. A
typed name, black and white. A hand affixes a sticker to the
card and it saturates with COLOR, DEEP BLUE.
People in long lines, waiting. Others near idling trucks,
waiting. Others against sides of buildings, waiting. Clerks
with clipboards move through the crowds, calling out names.
CLERKS
Groder... Gemeinerowa... Libeskind...
INT. APARTMENT BUILDING - CRACOW - DAY
The party pin in his lapel catches the light in the hallway.
SCHINDLER
Stern?
Behind Schindler, the door to another apartment closes softly.
A radio, somewhere, is suddenly silenced.
SCHINDLER
Are you Itzhak Stern?
At the door of this apartment, a man with the face and manner
of a Talmudic scholar, finally nods in resignation, like his
number has just come up.
STERN
I am.
Schindler offers a hand. Confused, Stern tentatively reaches
for it, and finds his own grasped firmly.
INT. STERN'S APARTMENT - DAY
Settled into an overstuffed chair in a simple apartment,
Schindler pours a shot of cognac from a flask.
SCHINDLER
There's a company you did the books
for on Lipowa Street, made what,
pots and pans?
Stern stares at the cognac Schindler's offering him. He
doesn't know who this man is, or what he wants.
STERN
(pause)
By law, I have to tell you, sir, I'm
a Jew.
Schindler looks puzzled, then shrugs, dismissing it.
SCHINDLER
All right, you've done it -- good
company, you think?
He keeps holding out the drink. Stern declines it with a
slow shake of his head.
STERN
It did all right.
Schindler nods, takes out a cigarette case.
SCHINDLER
I don't know anything about
enamelware, do you?
He offers Stern a cigarette. Stern declines again.
STERN
I was just the accountant.
SCHINDLER
Simple engineering, though, wouldn't
you think? Change the machines around,
whatever you do, you could make other
things, couldn't you?
Schindler lowers his voice as if there could possibly be
someone else listening in somewhere.
SCHINDLER
Field kits, mess kits...
He waits for a reaction, and misinterprets Stern's silence
for a lack of understanding.
SCHINDLER
Army contracts.
But Stern does understand. He understands too well.
Schindler grins good-naturedly.
SCHINDLER
Once the war ends, forget it, but
for now it's great, you could make a
fortune. Don't you think?
STERN
(with an edge)
I think most people right now have
other priorities.
Schindler tries for a moment to imagine what they could
possibly be. He can't.
SCHINDLER
Like what?
Stern smiles despite himself. The man's manner is so simple,
so in contrast to his own and the complexities of being a
Jew in occupied Cracow in 1939. He really doesn't know. Stern
decides to end the conversation.
STERN
Get the contracts and I'm sure you'll
do very well. In fact the worse things
get the better you'll do. It was a
"pleasure."
SCHINDLER
The contracts? That's the easy part.
Finding the money to buy the company,
that's hard.
He laughs loudly, uproariously. But then, just as abruptly
as the laugh erupted, he's dead serious, all kidding aside --
SCHINDLER
You know anybody?
Stern stares at him curiously, sitting there taking another
sip of his cognac, placid as a large dog.
SCHINDLER
Jews, yeah. Investors.
STERN
(pause)
Jews can no longer own businesses,
sir, that's why this one's for sale.
SCHINDLER
Well, they wouldn't own it, I'd own
it. I'd pay them back in product.
They can trade it on the black market,
do whatever they want, everybody's
happy.
He shrugs; it sounds more than fair to him. But not to Stern.
STERN
Pots and pans.
SCHINDLER
(nodding)
Something they can hold in their
hands.
Stern studies him. This man is nothing more than a salesman
with a salesman's pitch; just dressed better than most.
STERN
I don't know anybody who'd be
interested in that.
SCHINDLER
(a slow knowing nod)
They should be.
Silence.
EXT. CRACOW - NIGHT
A mason trowels mortar onto a brick. As he taps it into a
place and scrapes off the excess cement, the image DRAINS OF
COLOR.
Under lights, a crew of brick-layers is erecting a ten-foot
wall where a street once ran unimpeded.
EXT. STREET - CRACOW - DAY
A young man emerges from an alley pocketing his Jewish
armband. He crosses a street past German soldiers and trucks
and climbs the steps of St. Mary's cathedral.
INT. ST. MARY'S CATHEDRAL - DAY
A dark and cavernous place. A priest performing Mass to
scattered parishioners. Lots of empty pews.
The young Polish Jew from the street, Poldek Pfefferberg,
kneels, crosses himself, and slides in next to another young
man, Goldberg, going over notes scribbled on a little pad
inside a missal. Pfefferberg shows him a container of shoe
polish he takes from his pocket. Whispered, bored --
GOLDBERG
What's that?
PFEFFERBERG
You don't recognize it? Maybe that's
because it's not what I asked for.
GOLDBERG
You asked for shoe polish.
PFEFFERBERG
My buyers sold it to a guy who sold
it to the Army. But by the time it
got there -- because of the cold --
it broke, the whole truckload.
GOLDBERG
(pause)
So I'm responsible for the weather?
PFEFFERBERG
I asked for metal, you gave me glass.
GOLDBERG
This is not my problem.
PFEFFERBERG
Look it up.
Goldberg doesn't bother; he pockets his little notepad and
intones a response to the priest's prayer, all but ignoring
Pfefferberg.
PFEFFERBERG
This is not your problem? Everybody
wants to know who I got it from, and
I'm going to tell them.
Goldberg glances to Pfefferberg for the first time, and,
greatly put upon, takes out his little notepad again and
makes a notation in it.
GOLDBERG
Metal.
He flips the pad closed, pockets it, crosses himself as he
gets up, and leaves.
INT. HOTEL - DAY
Pfefferberg at the front desk of a sleepy hotel with another
black market middleman, the desk clerk. Both are wearing
their armbands. Pfefferberg underlines figures on a little
notepad of his own --
PFEFFERBERG
Let's say this is what you give me.
These are fees I have to pay some
guys. This is my commission. This is
what I bring you back in Occupation
currency.
The clerk, satisfied with the figures, is about to hand over
to Pfefferberg some outlawed Polish notes from an envelope
when Schindler comes in from the street. The clerk puts the
money away, gets Schindler his room key, waits for him to
leave so he can finish his business with Pfefferberg... but
Schindler doesn't leave; he just keeps looking over at
Pfefferberg's shirt, at the cuffs, the collar.
PFEFFERBERG
That's a nice shirt.
Pfefferberg nods, Yeah, thanks, and waits for Schindler to
leave; but he doesn't. Nor does he appear to hear the short
burst of muffled gunfire that erupts from somewhere up the
street.
SCHINDLER
You don't know where I could find a
shirt like that.
Pfefferberg knows he should say 'no,' let that be the end of
it. It's not wise doing business with a German who could
have you arrested for no reason whatsoever. But there's
something guileless about it.
PFEFFERBERG
Like this?
SCHINDLER
(nodding)
There's nothing in the stores.
The clerk tries to discourage Pfefferberg from pursuing this
transaction with just a look. Pfefferberg ignores it.
PFEFFERBERG
You have any idea what a shirt like
this costs?
SCHINDLER
Nice things cost money.
The clerk tries to tell Pfefferberg again with a look that
this isn't smart.
PFEFFERBERG
How many?
SCHINDLER
I don't know, ten or twelve. That's
a good color. Dark blues, grays.
Schindler takes out his money and begins peeling off bills,
waiting for Pfefferberg to nod when it's enough. He's being
overcharged, and he knows it, but Pfefferberg keeps pushing
it, more. The look Schindler gives him lets him know that
he's trying to hustle a hustler, but that, in this instance
at least, he'll let it go. He hands over the money and
Pfefferberg hands over his notepad.
PFEFFERBERG
Write down your measurements.
As he writes down the information, Pfefferberg glances to
the desk clerk and offers a shrug. As he writes --
SCHINDLER
I'm going to need some other things.
As things come up.
EXT. GARDEN - SCHERNER'S RESIDENCE - CRACOW - DAY
As Oberfuhrer Scherner and his daughter, in a wedding gown,
dance to the music of a quartet on a bandstand, the reception
guests drink and eat at tables set up on an expansive lawn.
CZURDA
The SS doesn't own the trains,
somebody's got to pay. Whether it's
a passenger car or a livestock car,
it doesn't matter -- which, by the
way, you have to see. You have to
set aside an afternoon, go down to
the station and see this.
Other SS and Army officers share the table with Czurda.
Schindler, too, nice blue shirt, jacket, only he doesn't
seem to be paying attention; rather his attention and
affections are directed to the blonde next to him, Ingrid.
CZURDA
So you got thousands of fares that
have to be paid. Since it's the SS
that's reserved the trains, logically
they should pay. But this is a lot
of money.
(pause)
The Jews. They're the ones riding
the trains, they should pay. So you
got Jews paying their own fares to
ride on cattle cars to God knows
where. They pay the SS full fare,
the SS turns around, pays the railroad
a reduced excursion fare, and pockets
the difference.
He shrugs, There you have it. Brilliant. He glances off,
sees something odd across the yard. Two horses, saddled-up,
being led into the garden by a stable boy.
SCHINDLER
(to Ingrid)
Excuse me.
Schindler gets up from the table. Scherner, his wife and
daughter and son-in-law stare at the horses; they're
beautiful.
Schindler appears, takes the reins from the stable boy, hands
one set to the bride and the other to the groom.
SCHINDLER
There's nothing more sacred than
marriage. No happier an occasion
than one's wedding day. I wish you
all the best.
Scherner hails a photographer. As the guy comes over with
his camera, so does just about everybody else. Scherner
insists Schindler pose with the astonished bride and groom.
Big smiles. Flash.
INT. STOREFRONT - CRACOW - DAY
A neighborhood place. Bread, pastries, couple of tables. At
one sits owner and a well-dressed man in his seventies, Max
Redlicht.
OWNER
I go to the bank, I go in, they tell
me my account's been placed in Trust.
In Trust? What are they talking about,
whose Trust? The Germans'. I look
around. Now I see that everybody's
arguing, they can't get to their
money either.
MAX REDLICHT
This is true?
OWNER
I'll take you there.
Max looks at the man not without sympathy. He's never heard
of such a thing. It's really a bad deal. But then --
MAX REDLICHT
Let me understand. The Nazis have
taken your money. So because they've
done this to you, you expect me to
go unpaid. That's what you're saying.
The owner of the place just stares at Redlicht.
MAX REDLICHT
That makes sense to you?
The man doesn't answer. He watches Max get up and cross to
the front door where he says something to two of his guys
and leaves. The guys come in and start carting out anything
of any value: cash register, a chair, a loaf of bread...
EXT. CRACOW STREET - DAY
Max strolls along the sidewalk, browsing in store windows.
People inside and out nod hello, but they despise him, they
fear him.
Just as he's passing a synagogue, some men in long overcoats
cross the street. Einsatzgruppen, they are an elite and wild
bunch, one of six Special Chivalrous Duty squads assigned to
Cracow.
INT. STARAR BOZNICA SYNAGOGUE - SAME TIME - DAY
The Sabbath prayers of a congregation of Orthodox Jews are
interrupted by a commotion at the rear of the ancient temple.
Several non-Orthodox Jews from the street, including Max
Redlicht, are being herded inside by the Einsatz Boys.
They're made to stand before the Ark in two lines: Orthodox
and non. One of the Einsatzgruppen squad removes the parchment
Torah scroll while another calmly addresses the assembly:
EINSATZ NCO
I want you to spit on it. I want you
to walk past, spit on it, and stand
over there.
No one does anything for a moment. The liberals from the
street seem to say with their eyes, Come on, we're all too
sophisticated for this; the others, with the beards and
sidelocks, silently check with their rabbi.
One by one then they file past and spit on the scroll. The
last two, the rabbi and Max Redlicht hesitate. They exchange
a glance. The rabbi finally does it; the gangster doesn't.
After a long tense silence.
MAX REDLICHT
I haven't been to temple must be
fifty years.
(to the rabbi)
Nor have I been invited.
The Einsatz NCO glances from Max to the rabbi and smiles to
himself. This is unexpected, this rift.
MAX REDLICHT
(to the rabbi)
You don't approve of the way I make
my living? I'm a bad man, I do bad
things?
Max admits it with a shrug.
MAX REDLICHT
I've done some things... but I won't
do this.
Silence. The Einsatz NCO glances away to the others, amused.
EINSATZ NCO
What does this mean? Of all of you,
there's only one who has the guts to
say no? One? And he doesn't even
believe?
(no one, of course
answer him)
I come in here, I ask you to do
something no one should ever ask.
And you do it?
(pause)
What won't you do?
Nobody answers. He turns to Max.
EINSATZ NCO
You, sir, I respect.
He pulls out a revolver and shoots the old gangster in the
head. He's dead before he hits the floor.
EINSATZ NCO
The rest of you... ...are beneath
his contempt.
He turns and walks away. The other Einsatz Boys pull rifles
and revolvers from their coats and open fire.
EXT. CRACOW - DAY
In BLACK AND WHITE and absolute silence, a suitcase thrown
from a second story window arcs slowly through the air. As
it hits the pavement, spilling open -- SOUND ON -- and,
returning to COLOR --
Thousands of families pushing barrows through the streets of
Kazimierz, dragging mattresses over the bridge at Podgorze,
carrying kettles and fur coats and children on a mass forced
exodus into the ghetto.
Crowds of Poles line the sidewalks like spectators on a parade
route. Some wave. Some take it more soberly, as if sensing
they may be next.
POLISH GIRL
Goodbye, Jews.
EXT. GHETTO GATE - DAY
The little folding tables have been dragged out and set up
again, and at them sit the clerks.
Goldberg, of all people, has somehow managed to elevate
himself to a station of some authority. Armed with something
more frightening than a gun -- a clipboard -- he abets the
Gestapo in their task of deciding who passes through the
ghetto gate and who detours to the train station.
PFEFFERBERG
What's this?
Pfefferberg, with his wife Mila, at the head of a line that
seems to stretch back forever, flicks at Goldberg's OD armband
with disgust.
GOLDBERG
Ghetto Police. I'm a policeman now,
can you believe it?
PFEFFERBERG
Yeah, I can.
They consider each other for a long moment before Pfefferberg
leads his wife past Goldberg and into the ghetto.
INT. APARTMENT BUILDING, GHETTO - NIGHT
Dismayed by each others' close proximity, Orthodox and liberal
Jews wait to use the floor's single bathroom.
INT. GHETTO APARTMENT - NIGHT
From the next apartment comes the liturgical solo of a cantor.
In this apartment, looking like they can't bear much more of
it, sit some non-Orthodox businessmen, Stern and Schindler.
SCHINDLER
For each thousand you invest, you
take from the loading dock five
hundred kilos of product a month --
to begin in July and to continue for
one year -- after which time, we're
even.
(he shrugs)
That's it.
He lets them think about it, pours a shot of cognac from his
flask, offers it to Stern, who brought this group together
and now sits at Schindler's side. The accountant declines.
INVESTOR 1
Not good enough.
SCHINDLER
Not good enough? Look where you're
living. Look where you've been put.
"Not good enough."
(he almost laughs at
the squalor)
A couple of months ago, you'd be
right. Not anymore.
INVESTOR 1
Money's still money.
SCHINDLER
No, it isn't, that's why we're here.
Schindler lights a cigarette and waits for their answer. It
doesn't come. Just a silence. Which irritates him.
SCHINDLER
Did I call this meeting? You told
Mr. Stern you wanted to speak to me.
I'm here. Now you want to negotiate?
The offer's withdrawn.
He caps his flask, pockets it, reaches for his top coat.
INVESTOR 2
How do we know you'll do what you
say?
SCHINDLER
Because I said I would. What do you
want, a contract? To be filed where?
(he slips into his
coat)
I said what I'll do, that's our
contract.
The investors study him. This is not a manageable German.
Whether he's honest or not is impossible to say. Their glances
to Stern don't help them; he doesn't know either.
The silence in the room is filled by the muffled singing
next door. One of the men eventually nods, He's in. Then
another. And another.
INT. FACTORY FLOOR - DAY
A red power button is pushed, starting the motor of a huge
metal press. The machine whirs, louder, louder.
INT. UPSTAIRS OFFICE - SAME TIME - DAY
Schindler, at a wall of a windows, is peering down at the
lone technician making adjustments to the machine.
STERN
The standard SS rate for Jewish
skilled labor is seven Marks a day,
five for unskilled and women. This
is what you pay the Economic Office,
the laborers themselves receive
nothing. Poles you pay wages.
Generally, they get a little more.
Are you listening?
Schindler turns from the wall of glass to face his new
accountant.
SCHINDLER
What was that about the SS, the rate,
the... ?
STERN
The Jewish worker's salary, you pay
it directly to the SS, not to the
worker. He gets nothing.
SCHINDLER
But it's less. It's less than what I
would pay a Pole. That's the point
I'm trying to make. Poles cost more.
Stern hesitates, then nods. The look on Schindler's face
says, Well, what's to debate, the answer's clear to any fool.
SCHINDLER
Why should I hire Poles?
INT. FACTORY FLOOR - DAY
Another machine starting up, growling louder, louder --
EXT. PEACE SQUARE, THE GHETTO - DAY
To a yellow identity card with a sepia photograph a German
clerk attaches a blue sticker, the holy Blauschein, proof
that the carrier is an essential worker. At other folding
tables other clerks pass summary judgment on hundreds of
ghetto dwellers standing in long lines.
TEACHER
I'm a teacher.
The man tries to hand over documentation supporting the claim
along with his Kennkarte to a German clerk.
CLERK
Not essential work, stand over there.
Over there, other "non-essential people" are climbing onto
trucks bound for unknown destinations. The teacher reluctantly
relinquishes his place in line.
EXT. PEACE SQUARE - LATER - DAY
The teacher at the head of the line again, but this time
with Stern at his side.
TEACHER
I'm a metal polisher.
He hands over a piece of paper. The clerk takes a look, is
satisfied with it, brushes glue on the back of a Blauschein
and sticks it to the man's work card.
CLERK
Good.
The world's gone mad.
INT. FACTORY FLOOR - DAY
Another machine starting up, a lathe. A technician points
things out to the teacher and some others recruited by Stern.
The motor grinds louder, louder.
INT. APARTMENT - DAY
Schindler wanders around a large empty apartment. There's
lots of light, glass bricks, modern lines, windows looking
out on a park.
INT. THE APARTMENT - NIGHT
The same place full of furniture and people. Lots of SS in
uniform. Wine. Girls. Schindler, drinking with Oberfuhrer
Scherner, keeps glancing across the room to a particularly
good-looking Polish girl with another guy in uniform.
SCHERNER
I'd never ask you for money, you
know that. I don't even like talking
about it -- money, favors -- I find
it very awkward, it makes me very
uncomfortable --
SCHINDLER
No, look. It's the others. They're
the ones causing these delays.
SCHERNER
What others?
SCHINDLER
Whoever. They're the ones. They'd
appreciate some kind of gesture from
me.
Scherner thinks he understands what Schindler's saying. Just
in case he doesn't --
SCHINDLER
I should send it to you, though,
don't you think? You can forward it
on? I'd be grateful.
Scherner nods. Yes, they understand each other.
SCHERNER
That'd be fine.
SCHINDLER
Done. Let's not talk about it anymore,
let's have a good time.
INT. SS OFFICE - DAY
Scherner at his desk initialing several Armaments contracts.
The letters D.E.F. appear on all of them.
EXT. FACTORY - DAY
Men and pulleys hoist a big "F" up the side of the building.
Down below, Schindler watches as the letter is set into place --
D.E.F.
INT. FACTORY OFFICES - DAY
The good-looking Polish girl from the party, Klonowska, is
shown to her desk by Stern. It's right outside Schindler's
office. This girl has never typed in her life.
INT. FACTORY FLOOR - DAY
Flames ignite with a whoosh in one of the huge furnaces. The
needle on a gauge slowly climbs.
EXT. CRACOW - DAY
A garage door slides open revealing a gleaming black Mercedes.
Schindler steps past Pfefferberg and, moving around the car,
carefully touches its smooth lines.
INT. FACTORY - DAY
Another machine starts up. Another. Another.
EXT. PEACE SQUARE - DAY
Stern with a woman at the head of a line. The clerk affixes
the all-important blue sticker to her work card.
INT. FACTORY DAY - DAY
Three hundred Jewish laborers, men and women, work at the
long tables, at the presses, the latches, the furnaces,
turning out field kitchenware and mess kits.
Few glance up from their work at Schindler, the big gold
party pin stuck into his lapel, as he moves through the place,
his place, his factory, in full operation.
He climbs the stairs to the offices where several secretaries
process Armaments orders. He gestures to Stern, at a desk
covered with ledgers, to join him in his office.
INT. SCHINDLER'S OFFICE - CONTINUOUS - DAY
The accountant follows Schindler into the office.
SCHINDLER
Sit down.
Schindler goes to the wall of windows, his favorite place in
the world, and looks down at all the activity below. He pours
two drinks from a decanter and, turning back, holds one out
to Stern. Stern, of course, declines. Schinder groans.
SCHINDLER
Oh, come on.
He comes over and puts the drink in Stern's hand, moves behind
his desk and sits.
SCHINDLER
My father was fond of saying you
need three things in life. A good
doctor, a forgiving priest and a
clever accountant. The first two...
He dismisses them with a shrug; he's never had much use for
either. But the third -- he raises his glass to the
accountant. Stern's glass stays in his lap.
SCHINDLER
(long sufferingly)
Just pretend for Christ's sake.
Stern slowly raises his glass.
SCHINDLER
Thank you.
Schindler drinks; Stern doesn't.
INT. SCHINDLER'S APARTMENT - MORNING
Klonowska, wearing a man's silk robe, traipses past the
remains of a party to the front door. Opening it reveals a
nice looking, nicely dressed woman.
KLONOWSKA
Yes?
A series of realizations is made by each of them, quickly,
silently, ending up with Klonowska looking ill.
SCHINDLER (O.S.)
Who is it?
INT. SCHINDLER'S APARTMENT - MORNING
Schindler sets a cup of coffee down in front of his wife.
Behind him, through a doorway, Klonowska can be seen hurriedly
gathering her things.
SCHINDLER
She's so embarrassed -- look at her --
Emilie begrudges him a glance to the bedroom, catching the
girl just as she looks up -- embarrassed.
SCHINDLER
You know what, you'd like her.
EMILIE
Oskar, please --
SCHINDLER
What --
EMILIE
I don't have to like her just because
you do. It doesn't work that way.
SCHINDLER
You would, though. That's what I'm
saying.
His face is complete innocence. It's the first thing she
fell in love with; and perhaps the thing that keeps her from
killing him now. Klonowska emerges from the bedroom thoroughly
self-conscious.
KLONOWSKA
Goodbye. It was a pleasure meeting
you.
She shakes Emilie's limp hand. Schindler sees her to the
door, lets her out and returns to the table, smiling to
himself. Emilie's glancing around at the place.
EMILIE
You've done well here.
He nods; he's proud of it. He studies her.
SCHINDLER
You look great.
EXT. SCHINDLER'S APARTMENT BUILDING - NIGHT
They emerge from the building in formal clothes, both of
them looking great. It's wet and slick; the doorman offers
Emilie his arm.
DOORMAN
Careful of the pavement --
SCHINDLER
-- Mrs. Schindler.
The doorman shoots a glance to Schindler that asks, clearly,
Really? Schindler opens the passenger door of the Mercedes
for his wife, and the doorman helps her in.
INT. RESTAURANT - NIGHT
A nice place. "No Jews or Dogs Allowed." The maitre 'd
welcomes the couple warmly, shakes Schindler's hand. Nodding
to his date --
SCHINDLER
Mrs. Schindler.
The maitre 'd tries to bury his surprise. He's almost
successful.
INT. RESTAURANT - LATER - NIGHT
No fewer than four waiters attend them -- refilling a glass,
sliding pastries onto china, lighting Schindler's cigarette,
raking crumbs from the table with little combs.
EMILIE
It's not a charade, all this?
SCHINDLER
A charade? How could it be a charade?
She doesn't know, but she does know him. And all these signs
of apparent success just don't fit his profile. Schindler
lets her in on a discovery.
SCHINDLER
There's no way I could have known
this before, but there was always
something missing. In every business
I tried, I see now it wasn't me that
was failing, it was this thing, this
missing thing. Even if I'd known
what it was, there's nothing I could
have done about it, because you can't
create this sort of thing. And it
makes all the difference in the world
between success and failure.
He waits for her to guess what the thing is. His looks says,
It's so simple, how can you not know?
EMILIE
Luck.
SCHINDLER
War.
INT. NIGHTCLUB - NIGHT
"Gloomy Sunday" from a combo on a stage. Schindler and Emilie
dancing. Pressed against her -- both have had a few -- he
can feel her laugh to herself.
SCHINDLER
What?
EMILIE
I feel like an old-fashioned couple.
It feels good.
He smiles, even as his eyes roam the room and find and meet
the eyes of a German girl dancing with another man.
INT. SCHINDLER'S APARTMENT - LATER - NIGHT
Schindler and Emilie lounging in bed, champagne bottle on
the nightstand. Long silence before --
EMILIE
Should I stay?
SCHINDLER
(pause)
It's a beautiful city.
That's not the answer she's looking for and he knows it.
EMILIE
Should I stay?
SCHINDLER
(pause)
It's up to you.
That's not it either.
EMILIE
No, it's up to you.
Schindler stares out at the lights of the city. They look
like jewels.
EMILIE
Promise me no doorman or maitre 'd
will presume I am anyone other than
Mrs. Schindler... and I'll stay.
He promises her nothing.
EXT. TRAIN STATION - DAY
Emilie waves goodbye to him from a first-class compartment
window. Down on the platform, he waves goodbye to her. as
the train pulls away, he turns away, and the platform of the
next track is revealed -- soldiers and clerks supervising
the boarding of hundreds of people onto another train -- the
image turning BLACK AND WHITE.
CLERKS
Your luggage will follow you. Make
sure it's clearly labeled. Leave
your luggage on the platform.
EXT. D.E.F. LOADING DOCK - DAY
As workers load crates of enamelware onto trucks -- back to
COLOR -- Stern and Schindler and the dock foreman confer
over an invoice.
More to Stern --
FOREMAN
Every other time it's been all right.
This time when I weigh the truck, I
see he's heavy, he's loaded too much.
I point this out to him, I tell him
to wait, he tells me he's got a new
arrangement with Mr. Schindler --
(to Schindler)
-- that you know all about it and
it's okay with you.
SCHINDLER
It's "okay" with me?
On the surface, Schindler remains calm; underneath, he's
livid. Clearly it's not "okay" with him.
STERN
How heavy was he?
FOREMAN
Not that much, just too much for it
to be a mistake -- 200 kilos.
Stern and Schindler exchange a glance. Then --
SCHINDLER
(pause)
You're sure.
The foreman nods.
INT. GHETTO STOREFRONT - DAY
Pfefferberg and Schindler bang in through the front door,
startling a woman at a desk.
WOMAN AT DESK
Can I help you?
They move past her without a word and into the back of the
place, into a storeroom. They stride past long racks full of
enamelware and other goods.
A man glances up, sees them coming. He's one of Schindler's
investors, the one who questioned the German's word. The
man's teenage sons rush to their father's defense, but
Pfefferberg grabs him and locks an arm tightly around his
neck.
Silence. Then, calmly --
SCHINDLER
If you or anyone acting as an agent
for you comes to my factory again,
I'll have you arrested.
INVESTOR
It was a mistake.
SCHINDLER
It was a mistake? What was a mistake?
How do you know what I'm talking
about?
INVESTOR
All right, it wasn't a mistake, but
it was one time.
SCHINDLER
We had a deal, you broke it. One
phone call and your whole family is
dead.
He turns and walks away. Pfefferberg lets the guy go and
follows. The investor's sons help their father up off the
floor. Gasping, he yells.
INVESTOR
I gave you money.
-- but Schindler and Pfefferberg are already gone, coming
through the front office and out the front door --
EXT. STOREFRONT - CONTINUOUS - DAY
-- to the street. Pfefferberg looks a little shaken from the
experience. Schindler straightens his friend's clothes.
SCHINDLER
How you feeling, all right?
PFEFFERBERG
Yeah.
SCHINDLER
What's the matter, everything all
right at home?
(Pfefferberg nods)
Mila's okay?
PFEFFERBERG
She's good.
Well, then, Schindler can't imagine what could be wrong. He
pats Pfefferberg on the shoulder and leads him away.
SCHINDLER
Good.
INT. FACTORY FLOOR - DAY
The long tables accommodate most of workers. The rest eat
their lunch on the floor. Soup and bread.
INT. SCHINDLER'S OFFICE - SAME TIME - DAY
An elegant place setting for one. Meat, vegetables, glass of
wine, all untouched. Schindler leafing through pages of a
report Stern has prepared for him.
SCHINDLER
I could try to read this or I could
eat my lunch while it's till hot.
We're doing well?
STERN
Yes.
SCHINDLER
Better this month than last?
STERN
Yes.
SCHINDLER
Any reason to think next month will
be worse?
STERN
The war could end.
No chance of that. Satisfied, Schindler returns the report
to his accountant and starts to eat. Stern knows he is
excused, but looks like he wants to say something more; he
just doesn't know how to say it.
SCHINDLER
(impatient)
What?
STERN
(pause)
There's a machinist outside who'd
like to thank you personally for
giving him a job.
Schindler gives his accountant a long-suffering look.
STERN
He asks every day. It'll just take a
minute. He's very grateful.
Schindler's silence says, Is this really necessary? Stern
pretends it's a tacit okay, goes to the door and pokes his
head out.
STERN
Mr. Lowenstein?
An old man with one arm appears in the doorway and Schindler
glances to the ceiling, to heaven. As the man slowly makes
his way into the room, Schindler sees the bruises on his
face. And when he speaks, only half his mouth moves; the
other half is paralyzed.
LOWENSTEIN
I want to thank you, sir, for giving
me the opportunity to work.
SCHINDLER
You're welcome, I'm sure you're doing
a great job.
Schindler shakes the man's hand perfunctorily and tells Stern
with a look, okay, that's enough, get him out of here.
LOWENSTEIN
The SS beat me up. They would have
killed me, but I'm essential to the
war effort, thanks to you.
SCHINDLER
That's great.
LOWENSTEIN
I work hard for you. I'll continue
to work hard for you.
SCHINDLER
That's great, thanks.
LOWENSTEIN
God bless you, sir.
SCHINDLER
Yeah, okay.
LOWENSTEIN
You're a good man.
Schindler is dying, and telling Stern with his eyes, Get
this guy out of here. Stern takes the man's arm.
STERN
Okay, Mr. Lowenstein.
LOWENSTEIN
He saved my life.
STERN
Yes, he did.
LOWENSTEIN
God bless him.
STERN
Yes.
They disappear out the door. Schindler sits down to his meal.
And tries to eat it.
EXT. FACTORY - DAY
Stern and Schindler emerge from the rear of the factory. The
Mercedes is waiting, the back door held open by a driver.
Climbing in --
SCHINDLER
Don't ever do that to me again.
STERN
Do what?
Stern knows what he means. And Schindler knows he knows.
SCHINDLER
Close the door.
The driver closes the door.
EXT. GHETTO GATE - DAY
Snow on the ground and more coming down. A hundred of
Schindler's workers marching past the ghetto gate, as is the
custom, under armed guard. Turning onto Zablocie Street,
they're halted by an SS unit standing around some trucks.
EXT. ZABLOCIE STREET - DAY
Shovels scraping at snow. The marchers working to clear it
from the street. A dialog between one of the guards and an
SS officer is interrupted by a shot -- and the face of the
one-armed machinist falls into the frame.
INT. OFFICE, SS HEADQUARTERS - DAY
Herman Toffel, an SS contact of Schindler's who he actually
likes, sits behind his desk.
TOFFEL
It's got nothing to do with reality,
Oskar, I know it and you know it,
it's a matter of national priority
to these guys. It's got a ritual
significance to them, Jews shoveling
snow.
SCHINDLER
I lost a day of production. I lost a
worker. I expect to be compensated.
TOFFEL
File a grievance with the Economic
Office, it's your right.
SCHINDLER
Would it do any good?
TOFFEL
No.
Schindler knows it's not Toffel's fault, but the whole
situation is maddening to him. He shakes his head in disgust.
TOFFEL
I think you're going to have to put
up with a lot of snow shoveling yet.
Schindler gets up, shakes Toffel's hand, turns to leave.
TOFFEL
A one-armed machinist, Oskar?
SCHINDLER
(right back)
He was a metal press operator, quite
skilled.
Toffel nods, smiles.
EXT. FIELD - DAY
From a distance, Stern and Schindler slowly walk a wasteland
that lies between the rear of DEF and two other factories --
a radiator works and a box plant.
Stern's doing all the talking, in his usual quiet but
persuasive manner. Every so often, Schindler, glancing from
his own factory to the others, nods.
INT. SCHINDLER'S OFFICE - DAY
The party pins the two other German businessmen wear are
nothing compared to the elaborate thing in Schindler's lapel.
He sits at his desk sipping cognac, a large portrait of Hitler
hanging prominently on the wall behind him.
SCHINDLER
Unlike your radiators -- and your
boxes -- my products aren't for sale
on the open market. This company has
only one client, the German Army.
And lately I've been having trouble
fulfilling my obligations to my
client. With your help, I hope the
problem can be solved. The problem,
simply, is space.
Stern, who has been keeping a low profile, hands the gentlemen
each a set of documents.
SCHINDLER
I'd like you to consider a proposal
which I think you'll find equitable.
I'd like you to think about it and
get back to me as soon as --
KUHNPAST
Excuse me -- do you really think
this is appropriate?
The man glances to Stern, and back to Schindler, his look
saying, This is wrong, having a Jew present while we discuss
business. If Schindler catches his meaning, he doesn't admit
it. Kuhnpast almost sighs.
KUHNPAST
I can appreciate your problem. If I
had any space I could lease you, I
would. I don't. I'm sorry.
HOHNE
Me neither, sorry.
SCHINDLER
I don't want to lease your facilities,
I want to buy them. I'm prepared to
offer you fair market value. And to
let you stay on, if you want, as
supervisors.
(pause)
On salary.
There's a long stunned silence. The Germans can't believe
it. After the initial shock wears off, Kuhnpast has to laugh.
KUHNPAST
You've got to be kidding.
Nobody is kidding.
KUHNPAST
(pause)
Thanks for the drink.
He sets it down, gets up. Hohne gets up. They return the
documents to Stern and turn to leave. They aren't quite out
the door when Schindler wonders out loud to Stern:
SCHINDLER
You try to be fair to people, they
walk out the door; I've never
understood that. What's next?
STERN
Christmas presents.
SCHINDLER
Ah, yes.
The businessmen slow, but don't look back into the room.
EXT. SCHERNER'S RESIDENCE - CRACOW - MORNING
Pfefferberg wipes a smudge from the hood of an otherwise
pristine BMW Cabriolet. As Scherner and his wife emerge from
their house in robes, Scherner whispers to himself --
SCHERNER
Oskar...
EXT. KUHNPAST'S RADIATOR FACTORY - DAY
Workers high on the side of the building toss down the letters
of the radiator sign as others hoist up a big "D." Under
armed guard, others unload a metal press machine from a truck.
INT. RADIATOR FACTORY / DEF ANNEX - DAY
Technicians make adjustments to presses already in place.
Others test the new firing ovens. Kuhnpast is being forcibly
removed from the premises.
INT. GHETTO EMPLOYMENT OFFICE - DAY
Crowded beyond belief, the place is like a post office gone
mad. Stern, moving along one of the impossibly crowded lines,
pauses to speak with an elderly couple.
EXT. PEACE SQUARE - DAY
A hand slaps a blue sticker on a work card. Slap, another.
And another. And another.
INT. D.E.F. FRONT OFFICE - DAY
Christmas decorations. Klonowska at her desk, her eyes closed
tight.
SCHINDLER
All right.
She opens her eyes and smiles. Schindler is holding a poodle
in his arms. She comes around to kiss him. He sets the dog
on the desk. Stern, across the room, watches blank-faced.
GESTAPO (O.S.)
Oskar Schindler?
Schindler, Stern and Klonowska turn to the voice. Two Gestapo
men have entered unannounced.
GESTAPO
We have a warrant to take your
company's business records with us.
And another to take you.
Schindler stares at them in disbelief. Stern quietly slips
one of the ledgers on his desk into a drawer.
SCHINDLER
Am I permitted to have my secretary
cancel my appointments for the day?
He doesn't wait for their approval. He scribbles down some
names -- Toffel, Czurda, Reeder, Scherner. Underlining
Scherner, he glances to Klonowska. She understands.
INT. OFFICE, SS HEADQUARTERS, CRACOW - DAY
A humorless middle-level bureaucrat sits behind a desk and
D.E.F.'s ledgers and cashbooks.
GESTAPO CLERK
You live very well.
The man slowly shakes his head 'no' to Schindler's offer of
a cigarette. Schindler tamps it against the crystal of his
gold watch.
GESTAPO CLERK
This standard of living comes entirely
from legitimate sources, I take it?
Schindler lights the cigarette and drags on it, all but
ignoring the man.
GESTAPO CLERK
As an SS supplier, you have a moral
obligation to desist from blackmarket
dealings. You're in business to
support the war effort, not to fatten --
SCHINDLER
(interrupting)
You know? When my friends ask, I'd
love to be able to tell them you
treated me with the utmost courtesy
and respect.
The quiet matter-of-fact tone, more than the comment itself,
throws the bureaucrat off his rhythm. His eyes narrow
slightly. There's a long silence.
INT. HALLWAY/ROOM - SS HEADQUARTERS - DAY
The two who arrested him lead Schindler down a long hallway.
They reach a door, have him step inside and close the door
after him.
INT. SS "CELL" - EVENING
Schindler knocks on the inside of the door. A Waffen SS man
opens it. The "prisoner" peels several bills from a thick
wad.
SCHINDLER
Chances of getting a bottle of vodka
pretty good?
He hands the young guard five times the going price.
WAFFEN GUARD
Yes, sir.
The guard turns to leave.
SCHINDLER
Wait a minute.
He peels off several more bills and hands them over.
SCHINDLER
Pajamas.
INT. SS "CELL" - MORNING
Perched on the side of the bed in pajamas, Schindler works
on a breakfast of herring and eggs, cheeses, rolls and coffee.
Someone has also brought him a newspaper. There's an
apologetic knock on the door before it opens.
GUARD
I'm sorry to disturb you, sir.
Whenever you're ready, you're free
to leave.
INT. FOYER, SS HEADQUARTERS - MORNING
Schindler, the Gestapo clerk and one of the arresting officers
cross the foyer.
GESTAPO CLERK
I'd advise you not to get too
comfortable. Sooner or later, law
prevails. No matter who your friends
are.
Schindler ignores the man completely. Reaching the front
doors, the clerk turns over the D.E.F. records to their owner
and offers his hand. Schindler lets it hang there.
SCHINDLER
You expect me to walk home, or what?
GESTAPO CLERK
(tightly)
Bring a car around for Mr. Schindler.
EXT. D.E.F. FACTORY - DAY
A Gestapo limousine pulls in through the gates of the factory,
parks near the loading docks. The driver, the same SS officer,
waits for Schindler to climb out, but he doesn't; he waits
for the SS man to come around and open the door for him.
SCHINDLER
If you'd return the ledgers to my
office I'd appreciate it.
There are no less than forty able-bodied Jewish laborers
working on the docks, any one of which would be better suited
to the task. The Gestapo man calls to one of them.
SCHINDLER
Excuse me -- hey --
(the guy turns)
They're working.
The guy just stares. Finally he heads off with the ledgers.
The poodle bounds out past him and over to Schindler. He
gives the dog a pat on the head.
EXT. SCHINDLER'S BUILDING - EVENING
Elegantly dressed for a night out, Schindler and Klonowska
emerge from the building. As they're escorted to the waiting
car, Schindler hesitates. A nervous figure in the shadows of
an alcove is gesturing to him, beckoning him.
Schindler excuses himself. Klonowska watches as he joins the
man in the alcove. Their whispered conversation is over
quickly and the man hurries off.
EXT. PROKOCIM DEPOT - CRACOW - LATER - NIGHT
From the locomotive, looking back, the string of splattered
livestock carriages stretches into darkness. There's a lot
of activity on the platform.
Guards mill. Handcards piled with luggage trundle by.
People hand up children to others already in the cars and
climb aboard after them. The clerks are out in full force
with their lists and clipboards, reminding the travelers to
label their suitcases.
Climbing from his Mercedes, Schindler stares. He's heard of
this, but actually seeing the juxtaposition -- human and
cattle cars -- this is something else.
Recovering, he tells Klonowska to stay in the car and, moving
along the side of the train, calls Stern's name to the faces
peering out from behind the slats and barbed wire.
AN ENORMOUS LIST OF NAMES --
-- several pages-worth on a clipboard; a Gestapo clerk
methodically leafing through them.
SCHINDLER (O.S.)
He's essential. Without him,
everything comes to a grinding halt.
If that happens --
CLERK
Itzhak Stern?
(Schindler nods)
He's on the list.
SCHINDLER
He is.
The clerk shows him the list, points out the name to him.
SCHINDLER
Well, let's find him.
CLERK
He's on the list. If he were an
essential worker, he would not be on
the list. He's on the list. You can't
have him.
SCHINDLER
I'm talking to a clerk.
Schindler pulls out a small notepad and drops his voice to a
hard murmur, the growl of a reasonable man who isn't ready --
yet -- to bring out his heavy guns:
SCHINDLER
What's your name?
CLERK
Sir, the list is correct.
SCHINDLER
I didn't ask you about the list, I
asked you your name.
CLERK
Klaus Tauber.
As Schindler writes it down, the clerk has second thoughts
and calls to a superior, an SS sergeant, who comes over.
CLERK
The gentleman thinks a mistake's
been made.
SCHINDLER
My plant manager is somewhere on
this train. If it leaves with him on
it, it'll disrupt production and the
Armaments Board will want to know
why.
The sergeant takes a good hard look at the clothes, at the
pin, at the man wearing them.
SERGEANT
(to the clerk)
Is he on the list?
CLERK
Yes, sir.
SERGEANT
(to Schindler)
The list is correct, sir. There's
nothing I can do.
SCHINDLER
May as well get your name while you're
here.
SERGEANT
My name? My name is Kunder. Sergeant
Kunder. What's yours?
SCHINDLER
Schindler.
The sergeant takes out a pad. Now all three of them have
lists. He jots down Schindler's name. Schindler jots down
his and flips the pad closed.
SCHINDLER
Sergeant, Mr. Tauber, thank you very
much. I think I can guarantee you
you'll both be in Southern Russia
before the end of the month. Good
evening.
He walks away, back toward his car. The clerk and sergeant
smile. But slowly, slowly, the smiles sour at the possibility
that this man calmly walking away from them could somehow
arrange such a fate...
ALL THREE OF THEM --
-- Schindler, the clerk and the sergeant -- stride along the
side of the cars. Two of them are calling out loudly --
CLERK & SERGEANT
Stern! Itzhak Stern!
Soon it seems as if everybody except Schindler is yelling
out the name. As they reach the last few cars, the
accountant's face appears through the slats.
SCHINDLER
There he is.
SERGEANT
Open it.
Guards yank at a lever, slide the gate open. Stern climbs
down. The clerk draws a line through his name on the list
and hands the clipboard to Schindler.
CLERK
Initial it, please.
(Schindler initials
the change)
And this...
As Schindler signs three or four forms, the guards slide the
carriage gate closed. Those left inside seem grateful for
the extra space.
CLERK
It makes no difference to us, you
understand -- this one, that one.
It's the inconvenience to the list.
It's the paperwork.
Schindler returns the clipboard. The sergeant motions to
another who motions to the engineer. As the train pulls out,
Stern tries to keep up with Schindler who's striding away.
STERN
I somehow left my work card at home.
I tried to tell them it was a mistake,
but they --
Schindler silences him with a look. He's livid. Stern glances
down at the ground.
STERN
I'm sorry. It was stupid.
(contrite)
Thank you.
Schindler turns away and heads for the car. Stern hurries
after him. They pass an area where all the luggage, carefully
tagged, has been left -- the image becoming BLACK and WHITE.
EXT./INT. MECHANICS GARAGE - NIGHT
Mechanics' hood-lamps throw down pools of light through which
me wheel handcarts piled high with suitcases, briefcases,
steamer trunks -- BLACK and WHITE.
Moving along with one of the handcarts into a huge garage
past racks of clothes, each item tagged, past musical
instruments, furniture, paintings, against one wall --
children's toys, sorted by size.
The cart stops. A valise is handed to someone who dumps and
sorts the contents on a greasy table. The jewelry is taken
to another area, to a pit, one of two deep lubrication bays
filled with watches, bracelets, necklaces, candelabra,
Passover platters, gold in one, silver the other, and tossed
in.
At workbenches, four Jewish jewelers under SS guard sift and
sort and weigh and grade diamonds, pearls, pendants, brooches
children's rings -- faltering only once, when a uniformed
figure upends a box, spilling out gold teeth smeared with
blood -- the image saturating with COLOR.
EXT. COUNTRYSIDE - DAY
Fractured gravestones like broken teeth jut from the earth
of a neglected Jewish cemetery outside of town. Down the
road that runs alongside it comes a German staff car.
INT. STAFF CAR - MOVING - DAY
In the backseat, Untersturmfuhrer Amon Goeth pulls on a flask
of schnapps. His age and build are about that of Schindler's;
his face open and pleasant.
GOETH
Make a nice driveway.
The other SS officers in the car -- Knude, Haase and Hujar --
aren't sure what he means. He's peering out the window at
the tombstones.
EXT. GHETTO - DAY
The staff car passes through the portals of the ghetto and
down the trolley lines of Lwowska Street.
INT. STAFF CAR - MOVING - DAY
As the car slowly cruises through the ghetto, Knude, like a
tour guide, briefs the new man, Goeth --
KNUDE
This street divides the ghetto just
about in half. On the right -- Ghetto
A: civil employees, industry workers,
so on. On the left, Ghetto B: surplus
labor, the elderly mostly. Which is
where you'll probably want to start.
The look Goeth gives Knude tells him to refrain, if he would,
from offering tactical opinions.
KNUDE
Of course that's entirely up to you.
EXT. PLASZOW FORCED LABOR SITE - DAY
Outside of town, a previously abandoned limestone quarry
lies nestled between two hills. The stone and brick buildings
look like they've been here forever; the wooden structures,
those that are up, are built of freshly-cut lumber.
There's a great deal of activity. New construction and
renovation -- foundations being poured, rail tracks being
laid, fences and watchtowers going up, heavy segments of
huts -- wall panels, eaves sections -- being dragged uphill
by teams of bescarved women like some ancient Egyptian
industry.
Goeth surveys the site from a knoll, clearly pleased with
it.
But then he's distracted by voices -- a man's, a woman's --
arguing down where some barracks are being erected.
The woman breaks off the dialog with a disgusted wave of her
hand and stalks back to a half-finished barracks. The man,
one from the car, Hujar, sees Goeth, Knude and Haase coming
down the hill and moves to meet them.
HUJAR
She says the foundation was poured
wrong, she's got to take it down. I
told her it's a barracks, not a
fucking hotel, fucking Jew engineer.
Goeth watches the woman moving around the shell of the
building, pointing, directing, telling the workers to take
it all down. He goes to take a closer look. She comes over.
ENGINEER
The entire foundation has to be dug
up and re-poured. If it isn't, the
thing will collapse before it's even
completed.
Goeth considers the foundation as if he knew about such
things. He nods pensively. Then turns to Hujar.
GOETH
(calmly)
Shoot her.
It's hard to tell which is more stunned by the order, the
woman or Hujar. Both stare at Goeth in disbelief. He gives
her the reason along with a shrug --
GOETH
You argued with my man.
(to Hujar)
Shoot her.
Hujar unholsters his pistol but holds it limply at his side.
The workers become aware of what's happening and still their
hammers.
HUJAR
Sir...
Goeth groans and takes the gun from him and puts it to the
woman's head. Calmly to her --
GOETH
I'm sure you're right.
He fires. She crumples to the ground. He returns the gun to
his stunned inferior and, gesturing down at the body,
addresses the workers.
GOETH
That's somebody who knew what they
were doing. That's somebody I needed.
(pause)
Take it down, re-pour it, rebuild
it, like she said.
He turns and walks away.
EXT. STABLES - DAWN
Stable boys lead two horses into the pre-dawn light. The
animals' hoofs shatter tufts of weeds like fingers of glass;
fog plumes from their nostrils.
EXT. PARK, CRACOW - DAWN
In addition to the exhaust from idling trucks and the curling
smoke from the Sonderkommando units' cigarettes, there is
excitement in the chilly pre-dawn air.
EXT. GHETTO - DAWN
An empty street. Rooftops against a lightening sky. A few of
the windows in the buildings are lighted, glowing amber; the
majority are still dark.
EXT. STABLES - DAWN
The stable boys hoist saddles onto the horses, cinch the
straps. Leaning against the hood of the Mercedes, Schindler
and Ingrid, in long hacking jackets, riding breeches and
boots, share cognac from his flask.
EXT. PARK, CRACOW - DAWN
Untersturmfuhrer Goeth, soon to be Commandant Goeth, stands
before the assembled troops with a flask of cognac in his
hand. He looks out over them proudly; they're good boys,
these, the best. He addresses them --
GOETH
Today is history. The young will ask
with wonder about this day. Today is
history and you are a part of it.
EXT. PEACE SQUARE, GHETTO - DAWN
A fourteen year old kid hurries across to the square pulling
on his O.D. armband. Several others of the Jewish Ghetto
Police, Golberg among them, are already assembled there. The
clerks, the list makers, scissor open their folding tables,
set out their ink pads and stamps.
GOETH (V.O.)
When, elsewhere, they were footing
the blame for the Black Death,
Kazimierz the Great, so called, told
the Jews they could come to Cracow.
They came.
EXT. STABLES - DAWN
Ingrid climbs onto one of the horses, Schindler onto the
other. As the animals gallop away with their riders toward a
wood, the stable boys wave.
GOETH (V.O.)
They trundled their belongings into
this city, they settled, they took
hold, they prospered.
EXT. PARK, CRACOW - DAWN
The fresh young faces of the Sonderkommandos, listening to
their commander.
GOETH
For six centuries, there has been a
Jewish Cracow.
EXT. WOODS - DAWN
The horses panting hard. Their hoofs hammering at the ground,
climbing a hill. Riding boots kicking at their flanks.
EXT. PARK, CRACOW - DAWN
The boots of Amon Goeth slowly pacing. He stops. Tight on
his face, smiling pleasantly.
GOETH
By this weekend, those six centuries,
they're a rumor. They never happened.
Today is history.
EXT. HILLTOP CLEARING - DAWN
The galloping horses break through to a clearing high on a
hill. The riders pull in the reins and the hoofs rip at the
earth.
Schindler smiles at the view, the beauty of it with the sun
just coming up. From here, all of Cracow can be seen in
striking relief, like a model of a town.
He can see the Vistula, the river that separates the ghetto
from Kazimierz; Wawel Castle, from where the National
Socialist Party's Hans Frank rules the Government General of
Poland; beyond it, the center of town.
He begins to notice refinements: the walls that define the
ghetto; Peace Square, the assembly of men and boys. He notices
a line of trucks rolling east across the Kosciuscko Bridge,
and another across the bridge at Podgorze, a third along
Zablocie Street, all angling in on the ghetto like spokes to
a hub.
EXT. GHETTO - DAY
The wheels of the last truck clear the portals at Lwowska
Street and the Sonderkommandos jump down.
INT. APARTMENT BUILDINGS - DAWN
Families are routed from their apartments. An appeal to be
allowed to pack is answered with a rifle butt; an unannounced
move to a desk drawer is countered with a shot.
EXT. STREETS, GHETTO - DAWN
Spilling out of the buildings, they're herded into lines
without regard to family consideration; some other
unfathomable system is at work here. The wailing protests of
a woman to join her husband's line are abruptly cut off by a
short burst of gunfire.
EXT. HILLTOP - DAWN
From here, the action down below seems staged, unreal; the
rifle bursts no louder than caps. Dismounting, Schindler
moves closer to the edge of the hill, curious.
His attention is drawn to a small distant figure, all in
red, at the rear of one of the many columns.
EXT. STREET - DAWN
Small red shoes against a forest of gleaming black boots. A
Waffen SS man occasionally corrects the little girl's drift,
fraternally it seems, nudging her gently back in line with
the barrel of his rifle. A volley of shots echoes from up
the street.
EXT. HILLTOP - DAWN
Schindler watches as the girl slowly wanders away unnoticed
by the SS. Against the grays of the buildings and street
she's like a moving red target.
EXT. STREET - DAWN
A truck thundering down the street obscures her for a moment.
Then she's moving past a pile of bodies, old people executed
in the street.
EXT. HILLTOP - DAWN
Schindler watches: she's so conspicuous, yet she keeps moving --
past crowds, past dogs, past trucks -- as though she were
invisible.
EXT. STREET - DAWN
Patients in white gowns, and doctors and nurses in white,
are herded out the doors of a convalescent hospital. The
small figure in red moves past them. Shots explode behind
her.
EXT. HILLTOP - DAWN
Short bursts of light flash throughout the ghetto like stars.
Schindler, fixated on the figure in red, loses sight of her
as she turns a corner.
INT. APARTMENT BUILDING - DAWN
She climbs the stairs. The building is empty. She steps inside
an apartment and moves through it. It's been ransacked. As
she crawls under the bed, the scene DRAINS of COLOR.
The gunfire outside sounds like firecrackers.
EXT. HILLTOP - NIGHT
NIGHT Silence. Schindler and Ingrid are gone.
Below, the ghetto lies like a void within the city, its
perimeter and interior clearly distinguishable by darkness.
Outside it, the lights of the rest of Cracow glimmer.
INT. D.E.F. FACTORY - NIGHT
Tables and tools and enamelware scrap. The metal presses and
lathes, still. The firing ovens, cold. The gauges at zero.
Against the wall of windows overlooking the empty factory
floor stands a figure, Schindler, in silhouette against the
glass, black against white, not moving, just staring down.
EXT. FOREST - PLASZOW - MORNING
Bloody wheelbarrows, stark against the tree line of a forest
above the completed forced labor camp, PLASZOW.
EXT. PLASZOW FORCED LABOR CAMP - MORNING
Names on lists. Names called out. Tight on faces.
Goldberg at one of several folding tables. The gangsterturned --
ghetto-cop is now the Lord of Lists inside Plaszow.
He and other listmakers call out names, accounting for those
thousands who survived the liquidation of the ghetto and now
stand before them in long straight rows.
INT. GOETH'S BEDROOM, PLASZOW - MORNING
Amon Goeth stirs, wakes, glances at the woman asleep beside
him. Hungover, he drags himself slowly out of bed.
EXT. GOETH'S BALCONY - MOMENTS LATER - MORNING
Goeth steps out onto the balcony in his undershirt and shorts
and peers out across the labor camp, his labor camp, his
kingdom. Satisfied with it, even amazed, he's reminiscent of
Schindler looking down on his kingdom, his factory, as he
loves to do, from his wall of glass.
Life is great. Goeth reaches for a rifle.
EXT. PLASZOW SAME TIME - MORNING
Workers loading quarry rock onto trolleys under Ukrainian
guard and a low morning sun. Every so often, one glances
with anticipation to the balcony of Goeth's "villa" -- which
is in fact nothing more than a two-story stone house perched
on a slight rise in the dry landscape.
EXT. GOETH'S BALCONY - CONTINUED - MORNING
The butt of the rifle against his shoulder, Goeth aims down
at the quarry -- at this worker, at that one --
indiscriminately, inscrutably. He fires a shot and a distant
figure falls.
INT. GOETH'S BEDROOM - SAME TIME - MORNING
The woman in bed groans at the echoing shot. She's used to
it but she still hates it; it's such an awful way to be woken.
MAJOLA
(mutters)
Amon... Christ...
She buries her head under a pillow. Goeth reappears. He pads
to his bathroom, goes inside and urinates.
EXT. PLASZOW - DAY
Schindler's Mercedes winds through the camp, past warehouses
and workshops, trucks full of furs and furniture, work
details, barracks, guard blocks. A man standing alone wears
a sign around his neck -- "I am a potato thief."
EXT. GOETH'S VILLA - PLASZOW - DAY
The Mercedes pulls in next to some other nice cars parked on
a driveway made of tombstones from the Jewish cemetery.
EXT. PATIO, GOETH'S VILLA - DAY
A patio table set with crystal, china, silver. Goeth and
Hujar are there, in pressed SS uniforms, and two
industrialists, Bosch and Madritsch. One chair is empty.
HUJAR
Your machinery will be moved and
installed by the SS at no cost to
you. You will pay no rent, no
maintenance --
Hujar glances off, interrupted by Schindler's arrival.
Although he's never been here, the industrialist comes in
like he owns the place. All but Goeth rise.
SCHINDLER
No, no, come on, sit --
He works his way around the table, patting Bosch and Madritsch
on the back -- he knows them -- shaking Hujar's hand, who he
doesn't know. He reaches Goeth.
SCHINDLER
How you doing?
Goeth takes a good long look at the handsomely dressed
entrepreneur and allows him to shake his hand.
GOETH
We started without you.
SCHINDLER
Good.
Schindler takes a seat, shakes a napkin onto his lap, nods
to the servant holding out a bottle of champagne to him.
SCHINDLER
Please.
Goeth watches him. The others watch Goeth.
SCHINDLER
I miss anything important?
HUJAR
I was explaining to Mr. Bosch and
Mr. Madritsch some of the benefits
of moving their factories into
Plaszow.
SCHINDLER
Oh, good, yeah.
Schindler clearly doesn't care, but nods as though he did.
He drinks. Goeth just watches him with what seems to be
growing amusement. He nods to Hujar to continue.
HUJAR
Since your labor is housed on-site,
it's available to you at all times.
You can work them all night if you
want. Your factory policies, whatever
they've been in the past, they'll
continue to be, they'll be respected --
Schindler laughs out loud, cutting Hujar off. Hujar glances
over to Goeth nonplussed.
SCHINDLER
I'm sorry.
He's not sorry at all, and starts in on the plate of food
that's set down in front of him.
GOETH
You know, they told me you were going
to be trouble -- Czurda and Scherner.
SCHINDLER
You're kidding.
Goeth slowly shakes his head no... then smiles.
GOETH
He looks great, though, doesn't he?
I have to know -- where do you get a
suit like that? what is that, silk?
(Schindler nods)
It's great.
SCHINDLER
I'd say I'd get you one but the guy
who made it, he's probably dead, I
don't know.
He shrugs like, those are the breaks, too bad. Goeth just
smiles. The others watch the two of them, unsure how they're
supposed to react.
INT. GOETH'S OFFICE - PLASZOW - LATER - DAY
The others have gone. It's just Goeth and Schindler now.
Goeth pours glasses of cognac.
GOETH
Something wonderful's happened, do
you know what it is? Without planning
it, we've reached that happy point
in our careers where duty and
financial opportunity meet.
Schindler nods pensively, perhaps in agreement, perhaps at
some other thought. There's a silence, broken finally by --
SCHINDLER
I go to work the other day, there's
nobody there. Nobody tells me about
this, I have to find out, I have to
go in, everybody's gone --
GOETH
They're not gone, they're here.
SCHINDLER
They're mine!
His voice echoes into silence. An acquiescent shrug from
Goeth finally. And a nod; Schindler's right.
SCHINDLER
Every day that goes by, I'm losing
money. Every worker that is shot,
costs me money -- I have to get
somebody else, I have to train them --
GOETH
We're going to be making so much
money, none of this is going to matter --
SCHINDLER
(cutting him off)
It's bad business.
GOETH
(shrugs)
Some of the boys went crazy, what're
you going to do? You're right, it's
bad business, but it's over with,
it's done.
(pause)
Occasionally, sure, okay, you got to
make an example. But that's good
business.
Schindler pours himself another shot from the bottle, nurses
it. He's in a foul mood. They study each other, trying to
determine perhaps who's more powerful. Eventually --
GOETH
Scherner told me something else about
you.
SCHINDLER
Yeah, what's that?
GOETH
That you know the meaning of the
word gratitude. That it's not some
vague thing with you like with some
guys.
SCHINDLER
True.
Goeth tries to put the situation in perspective:
GOETH
You want to stay where you are. You
got things going on the side, things
are good, you don't want anybody
telling you what to do -- I can
understand all that.
(pause)
What you want is your own sub-camp.
Schindler admits it by not disagreeing. Goeth thinks about
it, nods to himself again, then frowns.
GOETH
Do you have any idea what's involved?
The paperwork alone? Forget you got
to build it all, getting the fucking
permits, that's enough to drive you
crazy. Then the engineers show up.
They stand around and they argue
about drainage -- I'm telling you,
you'll want to shoot somebody, I've
been through it, I know.
SCHINDLER
Well, you've been through it. You
know. You could make things easier
for me.
Goeth mulls it over, his shrug saying "maybe, maybe not." A
silence before --
SCHINDLER
I'd be grateful.
There's the word Goeth was waiting to hear.
EXT. D.E.F. SUBCAMP SITE - DAY
An SS surveyor, with even paces, measures a distance of the
bare field adjacent to the factory. He sticks a little flag
into the ground.
EXT. D.E.F. SUBCAMP SITE - DAY
A watchtower, half-erected, the little flag still in the
ground. Laborers hammer at it while others roll out barbed
wire fencing. A surveyor supervises the placement of a post
and carefully measures its heights; it has to be nine feet,
exactly.
At a folding table in the middle of the field, Schindler
signs checks made out to the Construction Office, Plaszow --
requisitioning more lumber, cement and hardware.
EXT. CONSTRUCTION OFFICE, PLASZOW - DAY
Plaszow prisoners load the requisitioned building supplies --
the lumber, cement and hardware -- onto trucks.
EXT/INT. WAREHOUSE, CRACOW - DAY
The trucks parked not at Schindler's sub-camp, but at the
loading dock of Goeth's private warehouse in Cracow. Inside
the building can be glimpsed all kinds of Plaszow goods:
clothes, food, construction equipment, furniture.
Checkbook laid out on the hood of his Mercedes, Schindler
pays for the requested materials a second time -- this time
with a check made out to Amon Goeth personally -- and hands
it over to his bagman, Hujar.
EXT. D.E.F. SUBCAMP FIELD - DAY
Some SS architects groan over a set of blueprints. Schindler
and an SS officer walk by.
SS OFFICER
You have the Poles beat the Czechs,
you have the Czechs beat the Poles,
that way everybody stays in line.
SCHINDLER
All I have is Jews.
He shrugs, Too bad, what're you going to do? The SS guy has
to think. Yeah, that's a problem. Two huge leashed dogs yank
another SS man across their path.
EXT. D.E.F. - DAY
As five hundred Plaszow prisoners are marched back onto the
grounds of D.E.F., any hope they may have had of a more
lenient environment is quickly dashed. The place -- completed --
looks like a fortress: barbed-wire, towers, SS guards and
dogs.
INT. D.E.F. FACTORY - DAY
Where once they glimpsed the not too threatening figure of
Oskar Schindler strolling through the factory, the workers
who dare glance up now find armed guards moving past. And
further up, behind the wall of windows, Schindler moving
around, entertaining SS officer.
INT. GOETH'S VILLA - NIGHT
The Rosner brothers in evening clothes, Leo on accordion,
Henry on violin, playing a Strauss melody, trying to keep it
muted, inoffensive. Few of the guests pay attention, which
is fine with them. An SS officer chats with Schindler.
LEO JOHN
-- she's seventy years old, she's
been there forever -- they bomb her
house. Everything's gone. The
furniture, everything.
SCHINDLER
(well aware the man
is lying)
Thank God she wasn't there.
Schindler, with yet another girl on his arm, endures the
officer's lies while sweeping the room with his eyes.
LEO JOHN
I was thinking maybe you could help
her out. Some plates and mugs, some
stew pots, I don't know. Say half a
gross of everything?
Schindler looks at him for the first time, knowingly.
SCHINDLER
She run an orphanage, your aunt?
LEO JOHN
She's old. What she can't use maybe
she can sell.
Schindler's girl excuses herself to get a drink.
SCHINDLER
You want it sent directly to her or
through you?
LEO JOHN
Through me, I think. I'd like to
enclose a card.
Schindler nods, Done. Both watch his date across the room
getting a drink. As usual, she's the best-looking on there.
LEO JOHN
Your wife must be a saint.
Whatever tolerance Schindler's had up to this point with
John leaves his face; the looks he gives him now is pure
contempt.
SCHINDLER
She is.
INT. GOETH'S VILLA - LATER - NIGHT
Goeth's girl tonight, a Pole, eighteen, nineteen, places a
hand on Schindler's sleeve. They're at the important end of
the large table with Goeth, along with Czurda and Leo John
and their girlfriends.
GOETH'S GIRL
You're not a soldier?
SCHINDLER
No, dear.
CZURDA
There's a picture. Private Schindler?
Blanket around his shoulders over in
Kharkov?
Everyone laughs.
GOETH
Happened to what's his name -- up in
Warsaw -- and he was bigger than
you, Oskar.
CZURDA
Toebbens.
GOETH
Happened to Toebbens. Almost. Himmler
goes up to Warsaw, tells the armament
guys, "Get the fucking Jews out of
Toebbens' factory and put Toebbens
in the army," and -- "and sent him
to the Front." I mean, the Front.
Everybody laughs.
GOETH
It's true. Never happen in Cracow,
though, we all love you too much.
SCHINDLER
I pay you too much.
Another round of laughs, only this time it's forced.
Everybody knows it's true, but you don't say it out loud,
and Schindler knows better. Goeth gives him a look; they'll
talk later.
EXT. GOETH'S VILLA - LATER - NIGHT
Goeth finds Schindler alon