ACT ONE FADE IN EXT. THE WHITE HOUSE - WASHINGTON, D.C. - NIGHT Only a few lights are burning at this hour. A limo pulís into the driveway, is met by SEVERAL DARK FIGURES. A MAN gets out, goes inside. Numbers fill the screen and form a super: "1987" INT. WHITE HOUSE ELEVATOR - NIGHT The man is MICHAEL DEAVER (late 40's,) once an aide to President Reagan, now a lobbyist. He looks nervous. Gritn. INT. HALLWAY - EAST WING - WHITE HOUSE - NIGHT Deaver hurries down a dark, nearly deserted hallway. The lights glimmer, casting ghostly shadows. He turns a córner, and heads down another hallway, where an ARMED SECURITY GUARD who's been waiting for him salutes. Deaver hurries on. The guard looks after him, his face filling with dislike. TWO MAIDS stand beside a linen closet, talking. They fall silent as Deaver passes, and stare suspiciously after him. INT. ANOTHER HALLWAY - WHITE HOUSE - CONTINUING Another SECURITY GUARD sitting in front of the Reagan bedroom door, watching a tiny tv, with the sound low: Oliver North talking with microphones shoved in his face. As Deaver approaches, the guard stands up, salutes. WHITE HOUSE GUARD 2 Good evening, sir. They're waiting for you. The guard knocks on the bedroom door with a gloved-hand. WHITE HOUSE GUARD 2 Mr. Deaver to see the President. MUFFLED VOICES WITHIN. THEN, A WOMAN'S VOICE (NANCY): NANCY: OC Let him in. The Guard opens the door for Deaver. INT. REAGAN BEDROOM - WHITE HOUSE - CONTINUING The room is dark, lit only by a flickering tv. Two ghosts are sitting in front of it: RONALD REAGAN (75) in bathrobe and slippers, watching tv—his eyes hollow, and dark. On the table beside him, a glass of milk and a píate of Oreos. Next to him is his wife, NANCY (63). She's palé, gaunt. She looks up at Deaver with eyes full of silent panic. MIKE DEAVER I got a cali from John Tower..Jíe wants to talk to you, Mr. President... Reagan is still staring into the tv. It's a cowboy movie. NANCY It's okay, Mike. Go on. Deaver turns to Nancy, lowers his voice. DEAVER (in a whisper) They're beginning to talk about impeachment. She begins to tremble. NANCY They'11 never impeach him. They won't have the votes for it in the Senate. DEAVER I know but John thinks...so does George, and so do I...the evidence is overwhelming...and if the President doesn't say something, Congress is going to start its own investigation...Ed Méese and I and some of the other Republican Senators...well, we all think the President should hire a criminal practice attorney. NANCY He's not a criminal. She begins to weep, silently. Deaver kneels beside Reagan, and gently touches his arm. Reagan looks at him, confused: REAGAN Why do I need an attorney? DEAVER (carefully, gently) No, you don't need an attorney, Mr. President, but you want to have one, that's all. Have one to talk to. Someone to stand up for you. NANCY Ronnie, we've got to have somebody. REAGAN We haven't broken the law. DEAVER Nobody's saying you've broken the law. It's just there are so many questions... REAGAN Tell them to ask that bastard...that lying son of a gun, Oliver North! He's the one who knows! Ask Oliver North who gave the money to the Contras— DEAVER They will, Mr. President...They will... NANCY Ronnie, listen...Listen to me...We've got to do something...We' ve got to stand up for ourselves, for Christ's sake. We can't just keep sitting here, doing nothing. REAGAN But I'm not the one who broke the law. DEAVER Yes, Mr. President. I know. NANCY You've got to talk to them. DEAVER I could set up a press conference— Nancy turns to Deaver, her panic fiares: NANCY No. No press conferences. DEAVER How's he going to talk? NANCY He'11 talk to the people. The people. They always belleve him. DEAVER Alright. But not before he's gotten an attorney— REAGAN They got Nixon, and now they think they're going to get me. Well, I'm not Nixon. I'm not. Nancy grabs his hand. Her grip is like iron. NANCY Everybody knows that, Ronnie. All you have to do is talk to them. Talk to the people and make them believe you. Reagan wipes the tears off her cheek, kisses her tenderly. REAGAN Okay, okay, Nancy-pants . Settle down. Don't worry. I can handle this. Stop crying. (to Deaver, smiling) She cries more than any woman I know. She cries every time we send out the laundry. Deaver sutiles. Nancy and Deaver get up, and go to the door. INT. HALLWAY - CONTINUING As Nancy and Deaver come out, the Guard switches off Oliver North on the tv. FOLLOW NANCY AND DEAVER - down the hall together. She leans on his arm, murmuring: NANCY "Diré events," she said. Well, these are diré events. DEAVER Who said that? Your friend? NANCY She said the first few months of 1987. And it's all happening the way she said it would. Everything. Deaver is careful to keep his voice even. DEAVER Just make sure he gets an attorney.' NANCY I will. And then I'11 cali my friend...Find a good date for him to go on tv...We've got to listen to her, Mike. When we don't listen to her, we get into trouble... DEAVER Okay, fine. Give me a date, and I'11 set it up for the networks. She looks at him, smiles shakily. NANCY Thank you, Mike. You're the only one we can trust, you know. It's come down to you. Out of all these people...We're surrounded by traitors. DEAVER Don't worry. It's going to be ok. It is. Nancy squeezes his arm gratefully. He leaves. ANCLE - As Nancy returns to her bedroom door, the security guard has changed the channel to the cowboy movie. GUARD I'm sorry, Mrs. Reagan. It was the guard before me who turned it on... NANCY You're fired. She goes into the bedroom. The guard stares after her, stunned. INT. REAGANS' BEDROOM - CONTINUING Reagan is staring into his movie, once again. Nancy puts her arms around him from behind, kisses his ear. REAGAN All I wanted to do was save those people. That's all I wanted. NANCY I know...I know...I love you...I love you. MOVE IN ON his eyes, dark and confused... AN IMAGE - BLACK AND WHITE The lithe body of an expert swimmer rising to the surface of a perfect blue body of water. In slow motion, the body breaks through the water. Golden sun reflects off the wet skin and hair of this beautiful young man (a young Reagan) dressed only in a 1920's lifeguard uniform. The image of a god. The perfect American hero. MUSIC FADES UP: Doris Day singing "SENTIMENTAL JOURNEY": DORIS DAY (singing) Gonna take a sentimental journey Gonna see my heart's desire... DISSOLVE TO: INT./EXT. REAGAN'S 1948 CADILLAC CONVERTIBLE/MOVING - CULVER CITY, CA - DAY Numbers fill the screen, as they will throughout: "1949" Reagan (38) drives through a gorgeous Hollywood afternoon... singing along to DORIS DAY ON THE RADIO. He's wearing glasses, and a cast on his left leg. Two crutches are on the seat beside him. DORIS DAY (singing) Gonna take a sentimental journey Gonna take that journey home... EXT. MGM STUDIO GATES - DAY Reagan's green convertible driving onto the lot. He smiles, and waves, as he passes ACTORS, CREW MEMBERS, etc. NEAR A SOUND STAGE - CONTINUING Reagan parks and gets out, using his crutches. He limps past a COUPLE OF STARLET BELLYDANCERS. They smile at him. He smiles back. He passes TWO ACTORS IN BLACK-FACE, working on a tap-dance routine... He passes A GROUP OF ACTORS IN TUXES AND GOWNS clustered around a lunch wagón, eating as if they haven't eaten in days. He opens a stage door marked "East Side, West Side", and enters. INT. SOUND-STAGE - CONTINUING The set is a NYC apartment. A FILM CREW is crawling all over it, setting up for the next take. Reagan approaches the director, MERVYN LEROY (50's), who's talking to his DP. REAGAN Hi, Mervyn. LeRoy turns, smiles, sees Reagan's leg. LEROY Good God, Ronnie...what nave you done to yourself? REAGAN Don't ask. A charity baseball game. I tried to win one for the Gipper. LEROY (laughs) Thanks for coming down. I hope I'm not taking you away from anything. REAGAN It's fine. I'm not working. I mean, I have the day off. The DP leaves. LeRoy takes Reagan by the elbow, walks him towards an isolated córner. They drop their voices: LEROY Alright, listen. This is the thing. I've got this actress. Over there, see her? Leroy nods to a young woman nearby, sitting by herself. It's Nancy, elegant, strong-jawed. She's in costume—a plain secretary's dress—smoking a cigarette. She's deep into a movie-magazine. LEROY Her name's Nancy Davis. Just carne out from Chicago. Extremely conservative. Extremely Republican, if you know what I mean. Anyway, last week, the Hollywood Repórter carne out with a list of Communist sympathizers, and her ñame was on it. REAGAN (carefully) Oh, yeah? LEROY Of course she's upset. Scared about her career, her apartment, her friends.