本作来自网络品。作品仅供编剧学习、研究其创作技巧之用。

　　冰血暴  绑架  英文剧本  奥斯卡最佳原创剧本奖  美国

　　FARGO
　　a screenplay by
　　Ethan Coen
　　and
　　Joel Coen
　　
　　The following text fades in over black:
　　This is a true story. The events depicted in this film took place in Minnesota in 1987. At the request of the survivors， the names have been changed. Out of respect for the dead， the rest has been told exactly as it occured.
　　FLARE TO WHITE
　　
　　FADE IN FROM WHITE
　　
　　Slowly the white becomes a barely perceptible image: white
　　particles wave over a white background. A snowfall.
　　
　　A car bursts through the curtain of snow.
　　
　　The car is equipped with a hitch and is towing another car，
　　a brand-new light brown Cutlass Ciera with the pink sales
　　sticker showing in its rear window.
　　
　　As the car roars past， leaving snow swirling in their dirft，
　　the title of the film fades in.
　　
　　FARGO
　　
　　Green highway signs point the way to MOOREHEAD，
　　MINNESOTA/FARGO， NORTH DAKOTA. The roads for the two cities
　　diverge. A sign says WELCOME TO NORTH DAKOTA and another
　　just after says NOW ENTERING FARGO， ND， POP. 44，412.
　　
　　The car pulls into a Rodeway Inn.
　　
　　HOTEL LOBBY
　　
　　A man in his early forties， balding and starting to paunch，
　　goes to the reception desk. The clerk is an older woman.
　　
　　CLERK
　　And how are you today， sir？
　　
　　MAN
　　Real good now. I’’m checking in
　　- Mr. Anderson.
　　
　　The man prints "Jerry Lundega" onto a registration card，
　　then hastily crosses out the last name and starts to print
　　"Anderson."
　　
　　As she types into a computer:
　　
　　CLERK
　　Okay， Mr. Anderson， and you’’re
　　still planning on staying with
　　us just the night， then？
　　
　　ANDERSON
　　You bet.
　　
　　HOTEL ROOM
　　
　　The man turns on the TV， which shows the local evening news.
　　
　　NEWS ANCHOR
　　- whether they will go to summer
　　camp at all. Katie Jensen has
　　more.
　　
　　KATIE
　　It was supposed to be a project
　　funded by the city council; it
　　was supposed to benefit those
　　Fargo-Moorehead children who
　　would otherwise not be able to
　　afford to attend a lakeshore
　　summer camp. But nobody consulted
　　city controller Stu Jacobson……
　　
　　CHAIN RESTAURANT
　　
　　Anderson sits alone at a table finishing dinner. Muzak
　　plays. A middle-aged waitress approaches holding a pot of
　　regular coffee in one hand and decaf in the other.
　　
　　WAITRESS
　　Can I warm that up for ya there？
　　
　　ANDERSON
　　You bet.
　　
　　The man looks at his watch.
　　
　　THROUGH A WINDSHIELD
　　
　　We are pulling into the snowswept parking lot of a one-story
　　brick building. Broken neon at the top of the building
　　identifies it as the Jolly Troll Tavern. A troll， also in
　　neon， holds a champagne glass aloft.
　　
　　INSIDE
　　
　　The bar is downscale even for this town. Country music
　　plays on the jukebox.
　　
　　Two men are seated in a booth at the back. One is short，
　　slight， youngish. The other man is somewhat older， and
　　dour. The table in front of them is littered with empty
　　long-neck beer bottles. The ashtray is full.
　　
　　Anderson approaches.
　　
　　ANDERSON
　　I’’m， uh， Jerry Lundegaard -
　　
　　YOUNGER MAN
　　You’’re Jerry Lundegaard？
　　
　　JERRY
　　Yah， Shep Proudfoot said -
　　
　　YOUNGER MAN
　　Shep said you’’d be here at 7:30.
　　What gives， man？
　　
　　JERRY
　　Shep said 8:30.
　　
　　YOUNGER MAN
　　We been sitting here an hour.
　　I’’ve peed three times already.
　　
　　JERRY
　　I’’m sure sorry. I - Shep told
　　me 8:30. It was a mix-up， I
　　guess.
　　
　　YOUNGER MAN
　　Ya got the car？
　　
　　JERRY
　　Yah， you bet. It’’s in the lot
　　there. Brand-new burnt umber
　　Ciera.
　　
　　YOUNGER MAN
　　Yeah， okay. Well， siddown then.
　　I’’m Carl Showalter and this is
　　my associate Gaear Grimsrud.
　　
　　JERRY
　　Yah， how ya doin’’. So， uh， we