TRAINSPOTTING

			      Screenplay by

			       John Hodge


		  	  Based on the Novel by

		              Irvine Welsh













-----------------------------------------
This is the original shooting screenplay. 
It contains some scenes which where cut 
from the final film.
-----------------------------------------


EXT. STREET. DAY

Legs run along the pavement. They are Mark Renton's.

Just ahead of him is Spud. They are both belting along.

As they travel, various objects (pens, tapes, CDs, 
toiletries, ties, sunglasses, etc.) either fall or are 
discarded from inside their jackets.

They are pursued by two hard-looking Store Detectives in 
identical uniforms. The men are fast, but Renton and Spud 
maintain their lead.

		    RENTON
		(voice-over)
	Choose life. Choose a job. Choose a 
	career. Choose a family, Choose a 
	fucking big television, Choose 
	washing machines, cars, compact disc 
	players, and electrical tin openers. 
	

Suddenly, as Renton crosses a road, a car skids to a halt, inches from him.

In a moment of detachment he stops and looks at the shocked 
driver, then at Spud, who has continued running, then at 
the Two Men, who are now closing in on him.

He smiles.

INT. SWANNEY'S FLAT ROOM. DAY

In a bare, dingy room, Renton lies on the floor, alone, 
motionless and drugged.

		    RENTON
		(v.o)
	Choose good health, low cholesterol 
	and dental insurance. Choose 
	fixed-interest mortgage repayments. 
	Choose a starter home. Choose your 
	friends. 

EXT. FOOTBALL PITCH. NIGHT

On a flood lit five-a-side pitch, Renton and his friends are 
taking on another team at football.

The opposition all wear an identical strip (Arsenal), 
whereas Renton and his friends wear an odd assortment of 
gear.

Three girls -- Lizzy, Gail, and Allison and Baby -- stand 
by the side, watching.

The boys are outclassed by the team with the strip but play 
much dirtier.

As each performs a characteristic bit of play, the play 
freezes and their name is visible, printed or written on 
some item of clothing. (T-Shirt, baseball cap, shorts, 
trainers). In Begbie's case, his name appears as a tatoo on 
his arm.

Sick Boy commits a sneaky foul and indignantly denies it.

Begbie commits an obvious foul and make no effort to deny 
it.

Spud, in goal, lets the ball in between his legs.

Tommy kicks the ball as hard as he can.

Renton's litany continues over the action:

		    RENTON
		(v.o)
	Choose leisure wear and matching 
	luggage. Choose a three piece suite 
	on hire purchase in a range of 
	fucking fabrics. Choose DIY and 
	wondering who you are on a Sunday 
	morning. Choose sitting on that couch
	watching mind-numbing sprit-crushing 
	game shows, stuffing fucking junk 
	food into your mouth. Choose rotting 
	away at the end of it all, pishing 
	you last in a miserable home, nothing 
	more than an embarrassment to the 
	selfish, fucked-up brats you have 
	spawned to replace yourself. Choose 
	your future. Choose life.

Renton is hit straight in the face by the ball. He lies back 
on the astroturf. Voice-over continues.

		    RENTON
		(v.o.)
	But who would I want to do a thing 
	like that?

INT. SWANNEY'S FLAT. DAY

Renton lies on the floor.

Swanney, Allison and Baby, Sick Boy and Spud are shooting up 
or preparing to shoot up. Sick Boy is talking to Allison as 
he taps up a vein on her arm.

		    RENTON
		(v.o)
	I chose not to choose life: I chose 
	something else. And the reasons? 
	There are no reasons. Who need 
	reasons when you've got heroin? 

		    SICK BOY
	Goldfinger's better than Dr. No. 
	Both of them are a lot better than 
	Diamonds are Forever a judgement 
	reflected in its relative poor 
	showing at the box office, in which 
	field, of course, Thunderball was a 
	notable success. 

		    RENTON
		(v.o)
	People think it's all about misery 
	and desperation and death and all 
	that shite, which is not to be 
	ignored, but what they forget -

Spud is shooting up 

		    RENTON
		(v.o.)
	- is the pleasure of it. Otherwise 
	we wouldn't do it. After all, we're 
	not fucking stupid. At least, we're 
	not that fucking stupid. Take the 
	best orgasm you ever had, multiply 
	it by a thousand and you're still 
	nowhere near it. When you're on junk 
	you have only one worry: scoring. 
	When you're off it you are suddenly 
	obliged to worry about all sorts of 
	other shite. Got no money: can't get
	pished. Got money: drinking too much. 
	Can't get a bird: no chance of a 
	ride. Got a bird: too much hassle. 
	You have to worry about bills, about 
	food, about some football team that 
	never fucking winds, about human 
	relationships and all the things that 
	really don't matter when you've got a 
	sincere and truthful junk habit.

		    SICK BOY
	I would say, in those days, he was 
	a muscular actor, in every sense, 
	with all the presence of someone 
	like Cooper or Lancaster, but 
	combined with a sly with to make him 
	a formidable romantic lead, closer 
	in that respect to Cary Grant.

		    RENTON
		(v.o)
	The only drawback, or at least the 
	principal drawback, is that you have 
	to endure all manner of cunts 
	telling you that -

INT. PUB I. NIGHT

Begbie, smoking and drinking, speaks to camera.

		    BEGBIE
	No way would I poison my body with 
	that shite, all they fucking 
	chemicals, no fucking way.

INT. PUB I. NIGHT

Tommy sits beside Lizzy. He speaks to camera.

		    TOMMY
	It's a waste of your life, Rents, 
	poisoning your body with that shite.

INT. RENTON FAMILY HOME, LIVING ROOM. NIGHT

Renton's father and mother sit at the table eating. 

Renton is seated but not eating.

		    FATHER
	Every chance you've ever had, you've 
	blown it, stuffing your veins with 
	that filth.

-------- 

INT. ELECTRICAL RETAILERS. DAY

Gav wears the corporate jacket.

		    GAV
	Get off that stuff, Rents and get a 
	job. It's not as bad as it looks. 
	While you're here, you don't fancy 
	buying a cooker, do you?

--------

INT. SWANNEY'S FLAT. DAY

Sick Boy and Spud lie drugged up. Allison and Baby wait 
while Swanney cooks up.

Renton is standing up.

		    RENTON
		(v.o)
	From time to time, even I have uttered the magic words.

		    SWANNEY
  	Are you serious?

		    RENTON
  	Yeah. No more. I'm finished with 
	that shite.

		    SWANNEY
  	Well, it's up to you.

		    RENTON
  	I'm going to get it right this time. 
	Going to get it set up and get off 
	it for good.

		    SWANNEY
	Sure, sure. I've heard it before.

		    RENTON
	The Sick Boy method.

They both look at Sick Boy


		    SWANNEY
  	Yeah, well, it surely worked for 
	him.

		    RENTON
  	He's always been lacking in moral fibre.

		    SWANNEY
  	He knows a lot about Sean Connery.

		    RENTON
  	That's hardly a substitute.

		    SWANNEY
  	You'll need one more hit.

		    RENTON
  	No, I don't think so.

		    SWANNEY
  	To see you through the night that 
	lies ahead.

Freeze Frame on Swanney.

		    RENTON
		(v.o)
  	We called him the mother superior on 
	account of the length of his habit. 
	He knew all about it. On it, off it, 
	e knew it all. Of course I'd have 
	nother shot: after all, I had work 
	o do.

INT. RENTON'S FLAT ROOM. DAY

The door opens and Renton enters carrying shopping bags. He 
empties them on to a mattress beside three buckets and a 
television.

		    RENTON
		(v.o)
  	elinquishing junk. Stage One: 
	reparation. For this you will need: 
	one room which you will not leave; 
	one mattress; tomato soup, ten tins 
	of; mushroom soup, eight tins of, 
	for consumption cold; ice cream, 
	vanilla, one large tub of; Magnesia,
	Milk of, one bottle; paracetamol; 
	mouth wash; vitamins; mineral water; 
	Lucozade; pornography; one bucket 
	for urine, one for feces, and one 
	for vomitus; one television; and one 
	bottle of Valium, which I have 
	already procured, from my mother, 
	who is, in her own domestic and 
	socially acceptable way, also a drug 
	addict.

Renton swallows several Valium tablets. Voice-over continues.

		    RENTON
	And now I'm ready. All I need is a 
	final hit to soothe the pain while
	the Valium takes effect.

--------

INT. SWANNEY'S FLAT. DAY

Swanney, Sick Boy, Spud and Allison and Baby all lie inert 
while the telephone rings.

--------

INT. CALL BOX. DAY

Renton curses as he slams down the receiver. He dials again. 

		    RENTON
  	Mikey. It's Mark Renton. Can you 
	help me out?

INT. MIKEY'S FLAT. DAY

Renton holds two opium suppositories in the palm of his 
hand.

		    RENTON
		(v.o)
  	This was typical of Mikey Forrester.
		(on screen)
  	What the fuck are these?
		(v.o)
  	Under the normal run of things I 
	would have had nothing to do with 
	the cunt, but this was not the normal 
	run of things.

		    MIKEY
  	Opium suppositories. Ideal for your 
	purpose. Slow release, like. Bring 
	you down gradually. Custom fucking 
	designed for your needs.

	          RENTON
  	I want a fucking hit.

	          MIKEY
  	That's all I've got: take it or 
	leave it.

Renton sticks his hand down the back of his trousers and sticks the 
suppositories into his rectum.

		    MIKEY
  	Feel better now?

		    RENTON
	For all the good they've done me I 
	might as well have stuck them up 
	my arse.

He smiles.

EXT. STREET. DAY

		    RENTON
		(v.o)
  	Heroin makes you constipated. The 
	heroin from my last hit is fading 
	away and the suppositories have yet 
	to melt. I am no longer constipated.
	He looks around the local amenities. 
	He is in discomfort, clutching his 
	abdomen and falling to his knees.

He notices a betting shop.

INT. BETTING SHOP. DAY

Renton walks through the crowded, smoky betting shop towards 
a door marked 'toilet' with a bit of card.

		    RENTON
		(v.o)
	I fantasize about massive pristine 
	convenience.

He stumbles through.

		    RENTON
		(v.o)
	Brilliant gold taps, virginal white 
	marble, a seat carved from ebony, a 
  	cistern full of Chanel No. 5, and a 
	flunky handing me pieces of raw silk 
  	toilet roll. But under the 
	circumstances I'll settle for 
	anywhere.

INT. HORRIBLE TOILET. DAY

This is the most horrible toilet in Britain.

Alone, Renton makes his way through the horrors to a 
cubicle.

INT. HORRIBLE TOILET CUBICLE. DAY

Renton locks the door.

He looks into the bowl and winces with disgust, even in his
state.

He pulls the chain. The chain comes off.

He drops his trousers, sits on the bowl and closes his eyes.

--------

MONTAGE

A lorry on a building site dumps a load of bricks, B52's 
shed their load on Vietnam, the Blue Peter elephant, etc.

--------

INT. CUBICLE. DAY

Renton has his eyes closed. They snap open.

He looks down between his legs.

He drops to his knees in front of the bowl and rolls his 
sleeve up.

With no more hesitation he plunges his arm into the bowl and
trawls for the suppositories.

It seems to take ages. He cannot find them. He sticks his 
arm further and further into the toilet, moving his whole 
body close. He strains to find it.

His head is over the bowl now. Gradually he reaches still 
further until his head is lowered into the bowl, followed by 
his neck, torso, other arm, and finally his legs, all 
disappearing.

The cubicle is empty.

INT. UNDER WATER. DAY

Renton, dressed as before, swims through murky depths until 
he reaches the bottom, where he picks up the suppositories, 
which glow like luminous pearls, before heading up towards 
the surface again.

INT. HORRIBLE TOILET CUBICLE. DAY

The toilet is empty.

Suddenly Renton appears through the bowl, then his arms as 
he lifts himself out. Still clasping his two suppositories, 
he walks out of the toilet.

INT. RENTON'S ROOM. DAY

The mattress, buckets and supplies are laid out as before.

The door opens and Renton enters, still soaking and 
dripping.

The suppositories are in his hand. He holds them up, and 
they twinkle in the light.

		    RENTON
  	Now. Now I'm ready.

INT. RENTON'S ROOM. DAY

The cans of soup, the bottle of water, and the carton of ice
cream are empty, the bottle of pills spilt, the magazines 
well thumbed.

TO BE CONTINUED...