FADE IN:
MONTAGE
To the accompaniment of cheers, snatches of music and bits of laudatory TV commentary, great Russian figure skaters of the past and present flash across the screen:
— THE PROTOPOPOVS — RODNINA AND ZAITSEV — GORDEEVA AND GRINKOV — VIKTOR PETRENKO — OKSANA BAIUL
COMMENTATORS (VO)
… the Russian team of Oleg and Ludmilla Protopopov… and once again the Russians shine… following in the tradition of great Russian skaters…
DISSOLVE TO:
INT. ICE RINK DAY
But we can’t identify it as such just yet. All we see is a somewhat dirty and bumpy white landscape with a black horizon beyond it.
We realize what we’re looking at as a black figure skate begins crossing the screen. Just as we’re admiring the otherworldly grace of this, the toepick rams a giant bump on the ice. The skater goes flying, lands on his chest and skids a good twenty feet to a stop.
This is ALEXEI KOSLOV, 21 years old, intense energy to spare, not completely aware of just how dazzlingly attractive he is. He always wears a little metal medallion around his neck.
ALEX
Great. . .
(Alex shares the run—down rink with a handful of other skaters who keep working despite the rutty ice, burnt—out light bulbs and peeling paint. Alexei quickly scrambles to his feet and resumes skating. This time, his skate sends up a huge spray of water, dousing a pretty young female skater, IRINA, nearby.)
IRINA
Yeaccchhh–
ALEX
Sorry…
(An eager-beaver young MALE VOICE sounds from off—camera.)
SASHA (VO)
It’s OK, guys, everything’s fine in a minute.
(Alex skates over to where his pal SASHA, also in his early 20s, more open—faced and sunny than conventionally good—looking, tinkers with the engine of a beat—up Zamboni. The two friends have gone through this so many times, that Alexei automatically knows which tool to hand Sasha when he needs it, even though Alex himself is worried and preoccupied.)
ALEX
I’ll do it, you know. Men’s free skate. Ten months from yesterday. I’ll have it by then.
SASHA
… I know the government can’t support us anymore. But at least they could come through with some parts for this thing–
ALEX
Sure. Big national priority. Food, wages—— ice rinks.
(In a goofy paste—up photo on the wall, Nikita Khrushchev waves to us from the driver’s seat of the Zamboni. Alex salutes him, then skates off to resume practicing)
SASHA
Hey—— wait till I get this thing fixed.
(Alexei looks back at his friend.)
ALEX
Sasha. The podium. Ten months from yesterday. Wait?
(Alex resumes practicing with the other skaters.
Sasha plugs a power drill into the wall. He revs it up. The lights go out. The skaters GROAN. Sasha revs up the power drill some more. The lights come back on.)
GALINA (VO)
Alexei!!
(GALINA, Alex’s fiftyish coach, bustles in. Somewhat tubby figure bundled into a gleaming fur coat, a little more make—up than necessary, bubble-coifed, over-sprayed hair-— in all, one of those Russian women who bears an uncanny resemblance to a Long Island housewife en route to Manhattan for a trip to Bloomingdale’s and a matinee. Alex worships her. He skates over to her.)
ALEX
Hey, Galina.
GALINA
This place… Get started.
(Sasha revs up the drill. The hockey buzzer lets out a deafening blast. The skaters cringe.)
GALINA
Alexei. Massachusetts.
ALEX
I know…
(He notices a piece of paper sticking conspicuously out of her purse.)
ALEX
What’s that?
GALINA
Nothing.
(She theatrically stuffs the page deep into her purse.)
GALINA
Idiots. Some American sports magazine. Countdown to the Olympics. What do they know about skating?
ALEX
What do they say?
GALINA
Nothing.
(Seemingly reluctant, she draws the pages from her purse, hands them to him, and studies his reaction as he reads.)
ALEX
(A little stunned)
MacTavish—— eight to five for the Gold?
(He thrusts the page back at Galina.)
ALEX
MacTavish is a dwarf.
GALINA
He has no arms. You skate clean, you beat him. Now get going.
ALEX
(Clearly rattled)
Eight to five…
(He skates out towards the middle of the rink.)
ALEX
I want to work on the combination.
GALINA
(They’ve been through this before)
Alexei —— the quad is enough.
ALEX
Quad. Everybody’s got a quad. I want the combination.
(Galina scrutinizes the mottled—looking ice.)
GALINA
It’s too risky.
(Alex hops off the rink and pretends to start unlacing his skates.)
ALEX
Risk? You don’t want me taking risks?
GALINA
Very funny. All right. Go do it.
(The lights go out again. The skaters groan. The hockey buzzer sounds. The lights come back on.)
GALINA
God save us.
(To Alex)
Remember, after the first landing is the critical moment.
(There goes the hockey buzzer again. Galina yells at no one in particular.)
GALINA
Can’t somebody do something about that?
(She returns her attention to Alex.)
GALINA
The first jump looks hardest, but it’s just the beginning. Even as you’re landing, concentrate on what’s next. You get happy with yourself, you give in to pressure, you get frightened or think about the wrong thing, and you’re dead. Remember– you pull yourself up, you come down straight, you never stop concentrating.
(He takes off. As he picks up speed in preparation for the jump, the lights flicker on and off several times, then stay on. Alex takes off into the air and performs a dazzling triple axel. He lands this perfectly and is about to take off into a triple loop [a wondrous but extremely difficult combination to pull off], the lights go out again, and the buzzer SPUTTERS before launching into a protracted WAIL.
We hear Alex GRUNT as he hits the ice.
The lights flicker on. Alex scrambles to his feet, just in time to see Galina stuffing her bag shut, gathering her coat around her, and starting for the door.)
ALEX
Galina–
(She whirls to confront him.)
GALINA
Look at this place! Look at this ice! You think MacTavish puts up with conditions like this? Or the Americans?
(softens her voice to a more rational tone)
I coach skaters, Alexei. I don’t perform magic tricks. I am leaving. Tuesday. Every day you train here is one more day you give the others to get ahead.
(As Alex watches her go, we hear another GRUNT and the THUMP of a body falling to the ice. Irina slides across the frame in front of Alex, sitting backwards and looking dejected as her body creates little waves in the water covering the ice, and her practice costume gets completely soaked.
The hockey buzzer BLASTS again.)
CUT TO:
INT. KOSLOV APARTMENT – EVENING
A modest, homey Moscow apartment, warmed by a mother’s touch. Inexpensive but nicely arranged furniture, a vase here or there sporting artificial flowers. On one wall, a portrait of Alex’s father YURI, in much younger days in his Russian Army uniform, hangs prominently. A bit lower but even more impressive is a photo from the 1930s of a dashing—looking man leaning on the wing of an airplane.
Unfortunately, the nice decor has no calming effect on the argument raging among Alexei, Yuri, a stocky man in his fifties, and Alex’s beleaguered mother MASHA.
Yuri takes a swipe at a pile of CD’s on a table next to the CD player, sending the discs and their little plastic boxes flying through the air and clattering to the floor. He similarly trashes whatever other Western—looking objects catch his eye as he rants on.
YURI
Traitor!
ALEX
Traitor?
MASHA
Yuri!
YURI
Traitor!
ALEX
Aw, come on——
MASHA
Calm down! Your blood pressure——
YURI
CD’s! Video games! Rap music! You turn your back on your country enough as it is-—
(Masha drops to the floor and begins cleaning up the mess; Alexei quickly reaches out a hand to stop her, and gathers up the scattered objects himself.)
ALEX
I’m not turning my back on anything! I’ll still be skating for Russia—— but we’re so limited here! I just can’t be competitive unless I go someplace better to train!
MASHA
Yuri, Yuri, please calm down–
YURI
Sasha would never desert his country.
ALEX
Sasha is a pairs skater. He throws a woman up in the air and catches her. They can practice that anywhere. I can’t do that. I need ice!
YURI
Since you are three years old I say this—— the Army has a hockey team!
(Alex looks away: not the hockey team thing again…)
MASHA
Yuri, please-— Alexei works so hard-—
YURI
The two of you! Year after year you make me sick with this——
(He rips from the wall a photograph of Alexei in a skating costume holding a trophy.)
YURI
Coaches, costumes, music——
ALEX
Papa, please, Mama didn’t mean—–
YURI
Who is the man in this family? Huh?
(He throws the picture against the wall; the glass shatters noisily.)
YURI
Who is the man supposed to——
(Yuri’s breath catches oddly, and he begins to choke. Masha and Alex lower him into a chair in a familiar routine. Masha starts for the bathroom, but Alex places a hand on her shoulder.)
ALEX
I’ll go.
(He returns in a second with a glass of water and a pill, which Masha administers to her overwrought husband. She gently draws the cigarette from his hand and passes it to Alex, who stubs it out in the already overflowing ashtray.
As Yuri hyperventilates and tries to regain his equilibrium, Alex takes away the ashtray and the half—finished drink sitting next to it.)
INT. KITCHEN
Alex disgustedly empties the ashtray into the garbage, then pours the rest of the drink into the sink. Masha follows him into the room.
Alex leans against the sink, hanging his head.
ALEX
At least he could quit smoking.
MASHA
Alexei, try to forgive us. Make a life of your own.