What hath science wrought.

Opening shot: sand gusts through the streets of a long-deserted Mediterranean town. The camera pans past abandoned stucco buildings, overgrown with weeds.

Text: They Thought It Was Over

Camera continues to pan, as music begins to fade in. It is tinny, as though played through an old radio. A gust of sand completely obscures the camera’s view, and clears to reveal a shot centered on a small stucco building, door hanging off the hinges, part of the roof fallen in. The camera zooms.

Text: But Some Memories Never Fade

Music becomes recognizable: “As Time Goes By”, a oldies-style instrumental rendition. Camera zooms through doorway; a crackling radio stands on a table across the room, illuminated by light shining through the doorway.

Text: And Some Wounds

Zoom in on radio, music crescendoes accordingly. A silhouette of a man wearing a fedora falls across the radio.

Text: Never Heal

Silhouette raises gun, fires. Radio sparks. Cut to black as music ceases.

Fade in: timpani sounds once, extreme close up of a man’s mouth, chewing a toothpick.

Mouth: Play it, Sam.

Brief shot of Samuel L. Jackson cocking a shotgun, fade to black.

Another timpani; Bruce Willis and Robert Downey, Jr. walk slowly toward camera, putting sunglasses on.

Bruce Willis: Louis – [an enormous explosion in the background] – I think this is the beginning of a beautiful friendship.

The timpani begin to accelerate, heightening the excitement. Robert Downey, Jr. stands atop a ruined building, shouting to a courtyard full of dehumanized faceless soldiers.

Robert Downey, Jr.: [sneering] Round up the usual suspects!

Brief shots, now, one timpani per: Samuel L. Jackson, dual-wielding shotguns, in the smoking ruins of a building, turns to face the camera as it zooms; Robert Downey, Jr., face contorted with hatred, standing in the rain, turns to face the camera as it zooms; Angelina Jolie, wearing a kevlar corset and holding a katana, steps toward the camera and poses as it zooms; Bruce Willis, wearing a fedora and an overcoat, turns only his head toward the camera as it zooms down the length of the bar; Christopher Lee, above a machine torso and behind a mostly metal face, stands and glowers down at the camera. Silence.

Bruce Willis steps onscreen, looking down at the camera, pistol in hand. Points pistol at camera.

Bruce Willis: [sardonically] Here’s looking at you, kid. [Fires. Cut to black.]

Text: Return

Text: To

Text: Casablanca

Bruce Willis crouches behind the bar, reloading his pistol. Fragments of glass fall to the floor around him.

Bruce Willis: Of all the gin joints, in all the towns, in all the world – [slams clip into pistol] – she walks into mine.

He turns to fire over the bar. Cut to view across bar. He fires into the camera.

Text: In Theaters June 6