CONAN
FIRST DRAFT
AUGUST 1, 1978
SCREENPLAY BY OLIVER STONE
BASED ON THE STORIES OF
ROBERT E, HOWARD
WITH LATER ADDITIONS BY
L. SPRAGUE DE CAMP AND
‘LIN CARTEROo
e
OPENING SEQUENCE: A MAP of present-day EUROPE, ASIA,
APRICA, ANERICA...as the MUSIC THEME wells, the map starts
to move and crumble - an ocean contracts, another expands;
convulsions of the earth carve out new land masses,
eradicate others, mountains rise, glaciers shift, wastes
vanish beneath the waves...and the MAP of the ANCIENT
KINGDOMS arises ~ Aquilonia, Nemedia, Cimmeria, Shem,
Zingara, Vanaheim, Hyperborea, Zamora, Koth, Turan,
Hyrkania, Stygia, etc., each dotted with their capital
cities....MOVING CLOSER on CIMMERIA in the northeast region
of old Europe,
irising:
INSIDE A HUGE FOREST - black and lonely, of massive depth
++eand silence - a world apart.
ANOTHER ANGLE - cloud upon cloud piled on the banks of a
moody, yellowish-black sky stretched over valleys roofed
with green as:
A SOLITARY WIND whispers down a masked slope, plunging into
giant trees and deen-shadowed light, onto the softer SOUNDS
of a STREAM flowing through dappled patches of sunlight
onto the image of a BOY - CONAN - probing with a sharpened
stick for frogs and crayfish in a POOL of clean icy water
«+ethe silence enormous all around -
A BLACK PANTHER nestles on a black boulder, speckled with
green moss, its flank glistening in golden light as the
sun sets low in the distance....the panther stirring,
scenting something in the wind....
A DEER kicks - gone, through the leaves, half seen
THE PANTHER - a beat. THEN:
HUGE SOUND - as powerful HORSES ride directly at us -
sweating, frothing, thumping - 30 HORSEMEN perched forward,
fully armed with pikes, swords, lances, war axes.
SILENCE - the boy CONAN, framed by the tall trees circun-
venting the stream, reaches down and swings a hoop of dead
frogs and crayfish over his shoulder ~ and goes off, a
handsome youth of 13 with shiny black hair, big black
eyes, and a wiry muscular body, in laced moccasins and
scraps of wolfskin...now vanishing into the shadows of the
trees, becoming one with them...silence. THEN:
HORSE EYES - eager, terrified, cutting through the wind in
@ symphony of SOUNDTHE RIDERS - closer to camera now, bunched in depthless
long shot, and we see promiment in foreground - SEVERAL
BLACK HOODED FIGURES ON BLACK HORSES, their countenances
buried deeply inside their hoods, and ABOVE THEM WE SEE:
FURRY VULTURE BATS flying low and all out, trying to keep
up with the stallions in a thunder of cobbed wings and
hooked talons, their eyes blood-shot red.
CONAN now coming into his VILLAGE, down the main street
...smoking fires, logs, children playing, dogs, women
toiling...a smaller BOY AND GIRL running up out of breath,
in whispers.
CHILDREN
It's ready...hurry...hurry up, c'mon...!
They tug, he follows.
A DOG raises its gnarled old head at the entry to a
BLACKSMITH SHED as
CONAN, accompanied by the TWO CHILDREN, enters, glimpsing
HIS MOTHER, a young, sensual image combing out her long
flaxen hair in the waning heat of the sun. Now seeing him
and throwing it back with a smile of acknowledgement.
CHILDREN
He's here! He's back, Father!
VOICE
(bellowing)
Conan - come ere lad!
CHILDREN
Go!
CONAN into the smoky INTERIOR OF A SHED...the clang of
hammer on anvil, the blowing of bellows - fumes, heat,
flame - and his FATHER in bearskin, his fierce eyes set
in a hulking frame, his muscles bulging with blackened
sweat, hammering a sword....
FATHER
(gesturing impatient)
Come.
CONAN approaching closer, awed now, laying to rest his
hoop of toads and crayfish...PAST THE APPRENTICES at the
slag heap, HORSES pent in the shed, and a GROUP OF MEN from
the village gossiping, now stop, look at Conan...eyes
focusing on