1984 Part 1
Storyboard Text
- WAR IS PEACE FREEDOM IS SLAVERY IGNORANCE IS STRENGTH
- His eyes re-focused on the page. He discovered that while he sat helplessly musing he had also been writing, as though by automatic action. And it was no longer the same cramped, awkward handwriting as before. His pen had slid voluptuously over the smooth paper, printing in large neat capitals—DOWN WITH BIG BROTHER
- DOWN WITH BIG BROTHER
- *Knock Knock
- WAR IS PEACE FREEDOM IS SLAVERY IGNORANCE IS STRENGTH
- There was a knocking at the door. He sat as still as a mouse, in the futile hope that whoever it was might go away after a single attempt. But no, the knocking was repeated.
- DOWN WITH BIG BROTHER
- With his hand om the door-knob Winston saw that he had left the diary open on the table. DOWN WITHBIG BROTHER was written all over it, He drew in his breath and opened the door. Instantly a warm wave of relief flowed through him. A colourless, crushed-looking woman, with wispy hair and a lined face, was standing outside.
- Oh comrade;‘I thought I heard you come in. Do you think youcould come across and have a look at our kitchen sink? It’sgot blocked up and——’
- DOWN WITH BIG BROTHER
- The Parsons’ flat was bigger than Winston’s, and dingy in a different way. Everything had a battered, trampled-on look, as though the place had just been visited by some large violent animal. Games impedimenta—hockey-sticks, boxing gloves, a burst football, a pair of sweaty shorts turned inside out—lay all over the floor, and on the table there was a litter of dirty dishes
- ‘Have you got a spanner?’
- ‘A spanner? "I don’t know, I’m sure. Perhaps the children—
- There was a trampling of boots and another blast on the comb as the children charged into the room. Mrs. Parsons brought the spanner. Winston let out the water and disgustedly removed the clot of human hair that had blocked up the pipe. He cleaned his fingers as best he could in the cold water from the tap and went back into the other room.
- .
- A handsome, tough-looking boy of nine had popped up from behind the table and was menacing him with a toy automatic pistol, while his small sister, about two years younger, made the same gesture with a fragment of wood. Both of them were dressed in the blue shorts, grey shirts, and red neckerchiefs which were the uniform of the Spies. Winston raised his hands above his head, but with an un-easy feeling, so vicious was the boy’s demeanor, that it was not altogether a game.
- .
- .
- Up with you hands
- Suddenly they were both leaping round him, shouting ‘Traitor!’ and ‘Thought-criminal!’ the little girl imitating her brother in every movement. It was somehow slightly frightening, like the gamboling of tiger cubs which will soon grow up into man-eaters. There was a sort of calculating ferocity in the boy’s eye, a quite evident desire to hit or kick Winston and a consciousness of being very nearly big enough to do so. It was a good job it was not a real pistol hewas holding, Winston thought.
- .
- ‘You’re a traitor!’ ‘You’re a thought-criminal! You’re a Eurasian spy! I’ll shoot you, I’ll vaporize you, I’ll send you to the salt mines!’
- .
- Some Eurasian prisoners, guilty of war crimes, were to be hanged in the Park that evening, Winston remembered. This happened about once a month, and was a popular spectacle. Children always clamored to be taken to see it.
- ‘They do get so noisy ,They’re disappointedbecause they couldn’t go to see the hanging, that’s what it is. I’m too busy to take them. and Tom won’t be back from work in time.’
- .
- .
- ‘Want to see the hanging! Want to see the hanging!’
- ‘Why can’t we go and see the hanging?’
- Winston took his leave of Mrs. Parsons and made for the door. But he had not gone six steps down the passage when something hit the back of his neck an agonizingly painful blow. It was as though a red-hot wire had been jabbed into him. He spun round just in time to see Mrs. Parsons dragging her son back into the doorway while the boy pocketed a catapult.
- Goldstien
- WAR IS PEACE FREEDOM IS SLAVERY IGNORANCE IS STRENGTH
- Back in the flat he stepped quickly past the telescreen and sat down at the table again, still rubbing his neck. The music from the telescreen had stopped. Instead, a clipped military voice was reading out, with a sort of brutal relish, a description of the armaments of the new Floating Fortress which had just been anchored between Iceland and the Faroe island's.
- DOWN WITH BIG BROTHER
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