My first screenplay!

[budgie]

Sorry about the lack of formatting, etc. I had fun writing this yesterday:



METANOIA


FADE IN: the sound of a knife on a cutting block. Voices and echoes, distant. Like a busy restaurant kitchen.

Open on a sideways shot of a woman’s stretched out flat, naked body against a black floor. It fills the width of the screen. She’s lying on her front. Her body is covered in bruises and small cuts. She looks tattooed. ECUs of the bruises and small cuts and nicks in her flesh as the camera explores her form. This is STELLA, 30s, shoulder-length dark brown hair hanging across her face, pale skin. Her body looks slightly wasted, her skin loose, the ribs protruding. The close-ups reveal the blemishes and textures and the freshness of the cuts. Her arms are close by her sides. She turns her head from one side to the other, away from view.


The sound of low humming takes over from the voices and chopping.



CUT TO: a publisher’s office. Grey blinds closed against the windows. Immaculately stacked manuscripts on the floor all along one wall. The walls painted dark green and with no decorations. Several static shots to show this. An empty brown armchair. A grey filing cabinet. Black carpet. ECU of an upturned ashtray with its spilled contents by the metal leg of a desk. Camera travels up the leg and over the edge of the desk to an ECU of a man’s left hand resting against the surface. The right hand comes into focus behind it, turning the pages of a manuscript. The hands are slim and elegant, with fine black hairs and clean fingernails. There is a gold signet ring on the little finger of the left hand.


Sound of breathing through nostrils, and a half-sigh.

CU on the man’s face. This is MAX, late 20s, tawny complexion, shaved head with a fine shadow of black hair. Stud earrings. A crisp, pale yellow shirt with buttoned down collar. No tie, shirt buttoned to the top. Pale grey eyes as he focuses on the manuscript. He sits straight and very still, apart from the movement of his eyes and his hand as he turns the pages.

Sound of a knock. MAX looks up, into camera. His breathing stops, missing a beat, then continues.

STELLA opens the office door. She is wearing a tight grey coat buttoned up and knee-length, black boots with heels. Her hair is blown by the wind and her face is flushed. She closes the door and sits down in the armchair without looking at MAX until she is ready. MAX leans back in his chair, with his palms flat on the desk. The manuscript is neatly placed to one side. He smiles tight-lipped at STELLA. Their conversation is slow and hesitant. The humming continues.

MAX: How are you?

STELLA: Fine, thanks. How are you?

MAX: Have you got anything for me?

STELLA: Well… it’s not exactly what you wanted, but it’s a start.

MAX: How many?

STELLA: Eighty-two.

Pause. STELLA gets out her manuscript and places it on the desk for MAX, who doesn’t touch it, although his fingers twitch.

MAX: Are there any developments I should take note of?

STELLA: I’ve added a new character. A man.

MAX: I look forward to meeting him.

STELLA: I think…

MAX: Thank you, Stella. I’ll call you.



CUT TO: STELLA in her kitchen. It’s a galley, narrow and windowless, with units on either side and a tiled, black floor between them. The cupboards are red varnish, the surfaces dark granite. The walls are pale yellow, with rows of utensils, including a set of chef’s knives, a grater, and a hand-operated egg-whisk.


STELLA is chopping vegetables on a wooden board. From the fridge she takes a white plate with a large juicy steak on it. She cuts the steak into cubes in methodical fashion. The juices from the meat ooze around the knife, into the board and along her fingers. Absent-mindedly she licks them as she takes a wok and places it on the hob. She pours in some oil, waits for it to heat up and then tosses the vegetables and meat into the wok. The meat sizzles loudly. She shakes the wok. She stands still watching and listening to the wok. Pause.

FEMALE VOICE (off camera): Dead man’s bollocks! It’s what’s for dinner!

STELLA is startled. Quick pan to BIRDY, standing leaning against the doorframe at one end of the kitchen. Young, orange hair, black eyes, and fleshy. She wears a low-cut, tight, black vest and jeans. Her nipples are visible beneath the vest. She rubs the right one with little circular motions of her palm as she watches STELLA.


STELLA: God! You frightened the life out of me. What do you want?

BIRDY: Hungry! Hungry! Feed me, feed me.

STELLA: You won’t want this, it’s got meat in it. I’ll cook you something else. You’ll have to wait until I’ve eaten, though.

BIRDY: You’re gonna let me starve! You want me to die! Boo hoo! It’s not fair. I’m hungry. Want to eat now. Look, I’m so skinny, just a bag of bones, and you don’t care.


She squeezes an ample roll of flesh on her belly hard.


BIRDY: Tough. I’m the one who does the cooking. You’re the one who wants constant looking after. So if you want me to do that you’ll have to be patient. Can’t you just sit quiet for half an hour and give me some peace, please?


BIRDY pouts and pinches herself. Pause.


STELLA: (brightly) What have you been up to today, anyway?


Silence. STELLA turns off the heat and the sizzling dies down.


STELLA: So, what have you been up to?


Silence. BIRDY stands completely motionless, with her eyes closed.


STELLA: Birdy…


Silence. STELLA puts the food on a white plate. She turns to face BIRDY. Pause. STELLA gets agitated and eventually she pushes the plate resentfully towards BIRDY.


BIRDY pounces, and stands bent over the plate lifting hot meat and vegetables into her mouth, with the juices streaking her face and clothes. She wipes her hands on herself. STELLA watches, and grimaces in disgust. A phone rings.



CUT TO: CU of STELLA on the phone. It is yellow.

STELLA: No, I haven’t eaten yet. Where are you now?


CUT TO: CU of MAX in his parked car, on a cellphone. Behind him are houses.


MAX: I’m outside your house, Stella. May I please come in for a moment? Only if you don’t mind. I’d like to talk with you about the new character.


STELLA: (glancing towards the kitchen) Um… alright.


MAX: Thank you, Stella.


STELLA goes back to the kitchen. BIRDY has gone, leaving an empty plate and a greasy surface. STELLA clears the plate and wipes the surface. She carefully washes her hands and walks through the kitchen to the living room, where there is a too large, grey leather sofa, a wooden floor, and a large black sheepskin rug with a low table on it before the sofa. The walls are pale grey. Stella smoothes her hair and tucks it behind her ears as she looks over the room. Then she pulls it forwards again. She stands, waiting.



CUT TO: Stella being beaten and thrown against the walls. ECUs and blurred shots. Flesh whites out into:
Purple, yellow, black, green, red and blue inks running together and mixing on a sheet of heavy white paper.


ECU of BIRDY’s face as she drips the inks onto the page from droppers. She smirks at the results, tipping the corners to make the colours run.

A fleshy naked ass sits on the page and shifts around. BIRDY is revealed stark naked and laughing like a child. The room is a small box room, with bright yellow walls with black stars crudely painted on them, some five point, some six. The black carpet is rolled up against one wall. The bed and a small cupboard with a large irror on it are the only items of furniture.

BIRDY gets up and looks at her stained ass in the mirror. She picks up the papert and rubs it along her body from the crotch to her face. She examines the results and her reflection in the mirror carefully. Through the open door behind her, MAX is seen standing on the stair landing. BIRDY sees his reflection. She leans over the cupboard. MAX moves towards the camera.


FADE TO BLACK.



STELLA is in a café with a man. This is DAVID, early 40s, keen blue eyes and tidy. A neat goatee beard and cropped brown hair. Casual, comfortable clothing. He constantly watches the room and plays with the condiments and a flyer for Blockbuster, but isn’t nervous. STELLA leans back in her seat, turned slightly away from DAVID as he leans on the table.

DAVID: You know, Julia thinks that for your own good you should have the kid put away, but at the same time she acts like it’s all a big joke. Meantime, you’re the one who has to deal with all the shit. Julia’s a vampire.

DAVID has made a delicate origami bird from the flyer.

STELLA: She just sees how complicated it all it, that’s all.

DAVID: What’s complicated? Look at you!

STELLA glares at him.

DAVID grabs her wrists and holds up her bruises and lacerated arms.

DAVID: Look! How complicated is it?

STELLA winces with pain. DAVID lets go of her arms and she cuddles herself, not looking at him. DAVID stares at her. Pause.

STELLA: Julia knows I can’t live without her. She knows I can’t live only with myself.  

Pause.

STELLA: We have fun together.

DAVID: (quietly) No, she has fun. He has fun. You have bruises.

STELLA: And eighty-nine pages.

DAVID: Oh, great, two months and you wrote another seven!

STELLA starts to cry. DAVID watches her, blank-faced. Pause.

DAVID: I have to go.

STELLA: (quietly) Can I call you? Maybe tomorrow?

DAVID: Yes. Whenever you want to. I’m always here. You fucking know that. You know that, don’t you?

STELLA: Yes.

DAVID: Don’t you?

STELLA: Yes, I do.


After DAVID has gone, STELLA walks slowly and with pain out of the café. At the door she is stopped by a waiter, who reminds her that no one has paid the bill. She unthinkingly gives the waiter the exact money and leaves. The waiter watches her as she disappears into the crowd outside. The sun hits the side of a car and causes a white out.


MAX gets out of his car outside STELLA’s house.


CUT TO: MAX and BIRDY sit on the sofa in the living room. She is naked, he is fully clothed. STELLA’s manuscript is scattered across the black rug at their feet. BIRDY sprawls with her legs apart and her eyes shut. MAX sits upright but relaxed. He buttons up the top button of his shirt and looks at BIRDY’s legs.

ECU of MAX’s right hand sliding up BIRDY’s leg and squeezing her thigh hard, leaving a red mark. We hear her giggle and then see her hand on his. She digs black fingernails into the back of his hand until finally he pulls it away.



CUT TO: STELLA on the sofa in the same place as BIRDY, wearing a pale pink, sleeveless dress. She bends down and picks up the manuscript from the floor. MAX is sitting in the same place as before.

STELLA: I want you to leave.

MAX: If that’s your wish. (Pause) Is it?

Silence. STELLA stares at the manuscript in her lap. The pages are badly sorted.

MAX: How will you finish this without my help?  

Silence.

STELLA: I won’t.

MAX places his left hand on the manuscript on STELLA’s lap. She looks at his hand blankly.



CUT TO: The kitchen. Hand-held camera. STELLA is chopping onions and crying. Through the doorway to the living room we see DAVID lounging on the sofa, reading the manuscript by a low light. Loud music pounds from above. STELLA wipes her eyes without thinking and they sting from the onion juices. She runs the knife and her hands under the tap and splashes and rubs her eyes, wiping her face on a towel. She glances at DAVID, who is nodding slightly in time to the music pounding through the ceiling as he reads. STELLA tries to look at her face reflected in the side of an aluminium pan. She moves into the hallway to wipe the smeared mascara from around her eyes, looking in the hall mirror. The music pounds down the stairs. She sees them reflected.

Suddenly she sees that BIRDY is standing at the bottom of the stairs, lounging against the wall. She is wearing a too-small, pink lace bra and red track bottoms.

BIRDY: Who’s here?

STELLA: David.

Pause.

BIRDY: Birdy wants to fuck.

STELLA: Turn the music down, Birdy, please.

BIRDY: Birdy wants to fuck.

BIRDY starts to sashay across the hall towards the living room door. Quickly STELLA moves to block her path. They stare at each other.

STELLA: Go back upstairs.

BIRDY: Birdy wants to fuck.

Pause.

BIRDY: Birdy wants to fuck. Birdy wants to fuck. Wants to fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck. Fuck, fuck, FUCK, FUCK, FUCK.

STELLA hits BIRDY across the mouth. BIRDY goes still and silent. She turns around and goes slowly upstairs, disappearing at the top. A moment later the music stops.

STELLA looks at herself in the mirror and smoothes her hair before going back into the kitchen. She goes quietly to the living room doorway and peeps through at DAVID. He is still reading. Hold on him, composed, absorbed, relaxed, his face half lit by the low light.

STELLA leans back against the units. After a moment she is composed enough to start chopping the onions again. The knife moves methodically, chopping. Otherwise it is very quiet.



CUT TO: Meat frying in the wok. Sizzling. Then dishing up onto two white plates. Some meat falling on the floor. The wok thrown into the sink. Hands washed.

STELLA picks up the two plates to take them into the living room. As she stands she hears DAVID and BIRDY. STELLA’s POV looking towards the doorway to the living room.

Carefully she replaces the plates and steadies herself against the units. She breathes heavily, staring at the white plates with the seared red-brown meat, green asparagus spears, pale yellow bamboo shoots. The picture blurs into a white out and back into white flesh with bruising and dried red-brown blood.


Flesh being beaten, as before.


ECU of a hand seizing one of the knives from the kitchen wall.


Small cuts being made in flesh (slow motion). Fingers squeezing blood from the wounds. Intercut with rapid beatings, the sounds of DAVID groaning and BIRDY howling and laughing. The camera moves from the kitchen to the living room to reveal DAVID naked and bent over the sofa with his hands and feet bound. BIRDY, seen from behind, buggers DAVID. ECUs of the back of BIRDY’s head and DAVID’s face. The camera tilts up and away from them and twists towards a black floor with a thud.



SLOW FADE IN on STELLA’s naked body as in the opening shot. The camera pans up and pulls back to reveal her lying in the kitchen, between the units. A blurred, clothed figure is standing in the dark hallway door.



CUT TO: MAX’s office. MAX is reading a manuscript at his desk, as previously. Pale blue shirt. The ashtray is on his desk. He chain smokes. The humming sound. A knock on the door. Pause.

ECU of MAX stubbing out the cigarette in the ashtray. Beat. He pushes the ashtray over the edge of the desk onto the floor. ECU on MAX’s face as he looks at the door.

STELLA opens the door. She is wearing her grey coat, unbuttoned, and boots. Underneath she has a tight black vest and a purple skirt. She closes the door and looks at MAX before sitting down in the chair opposite him. She looks at the ashtray and after a moment picks it up and places it on the desk. The cigarette butts and ash remain on the floor. MAX keeps looking at STELLA, who smiles at him.

STELLA: Hello, Max. How are you?

Pause. They watch each other.

MAX: I’m glad to see you, Stella. I’ve been slightly worried about you, I must say. I notice that you haven’t been answering my calls for a while. Where have you been?

STELLA: I’ve been… working.

MAX: (smiling) On our little masterpiece?

STELLA: (smiling)Yes.

MAX slowly stretches out his hand. ECU on his left hand, the one with the ring. STELLA reaches into her bag and draws something out of it (off camera). ECU on MAX’s face as he watches in calm anticipation and expectation. Hold on his face as he looks at his hand. His expression changes slowly to complete blankness.



CUT TO: Stella’s kitchen. She sits naked on the floor, with her knees drawn up to her chest as she balances against the units. Her legs and arms are marked red and there are cuts. She slowly strokes the cuts. She is still and calm.  

BIRDY’s figure appears in the doorway behind STELLA. BIRDY leans against the doorframe, tapping the point of the knife she holds against the wood. ECU of the nicks she makes in the paint.

ECU on STELLA’s face. Pause. The tapping sound.

STELLA: Birdy. Stella wants you to leave.

Pause.

STELLA: Birdy.

BIRDY: Look! Look at me!

STELLA slowly looks up at BIRDY.

STELLA: Birdy. I want you to leave.

BIRDY stands motionless, with eyes closed. The tapping stops. It is deathly silent. A barely imperceptible freeze on STELLA’s face, completely drained. Then:

CU on STELLA’s face as she turns to look at the other doorway. Her POV as a blurred figure comes into view as DAVID. He moves towards her holding a soft, beige-coloured blanket. He wraps it around STELLA, and after a while she gets up unassisted, supporting herself against the units. DAVID stands beside her.

STELLA follows DAVID out of shot, leaving the camera held on the kitchen knife lying on the counter surface.



CUT TO BLACK.



Any comments appreciated. Acknowledgements to all the inspiration I've had from reading stuff posted by other members.

[Ghostboy]

That's pretty good for your first screenplay! Are you planning on making this, or is it just for the page?

I thought it was a good read. Your descriptions and attention to minute detail are amazing. This is a film that would make people cringe (for most people during the closeups of cut flesh, for me during the closeups of meat and meat being consumed), and it feels all around unpleasant in a good sort of way. I'm going to have to read it through again to get a better feel on the flow of things. I thought while reading it that some of the scenes were unnecessary (the one with the ink seemed oddly placed, as did Birdy's messy consumption of the meal), but in retrospect I think they're all complimentary.

Swell job.

[chainsmoking insomniac]

Yeah Budgie, I liked it too.  I walked away from it feeling very uneasy.  And your use of description is a DoP's dream  

It also makes me wonder what goes on in that head of yours....

[MacGuffin]

budgie, you nailed what a lot of screenplay writers, or writers in general, fail to do, and that is give the reader a visualization through words. The descriptions were spot on, so much so that you could see what you wanted to convey perfectly. I felt a heavy Lynch influence story/structure-wise, and a nice 'where-is-this-story-taking-me' interest.

Excellent work. Congratulations on breaking your screenplay cherry.

[Pubrick]

buttcheek, ur script made me horny, sad, confused, and ultimately cutty.

a success.

[budgie]

Are you planning on making this, or is it just for the page?

No, I don't have the means/knowlede to make it, I just woke up on Wednesday having a conversation with myself and it turned into this. I just had fun writing it and then wondered whether it would communicate outside of my own head.

Thanks for your compliments, Ghostboy, PD23 and MacG. I'm happy that you all enjoyed the bit that's important (the visuals). And happy with the Lynch ref. (now you can see why I relate).

buttcheek, ur script made me horny, sad, confused, and ultimately cutty.

a success.

Success indeed. I put the nipple detail in just for you.

[Jeremy Blackman]

The desolation and coldness of the world you describe is disturbing. As in the aching formality and awkwardness of some of the dialogue between Max and Stella or David and Stella.

Is there any particular significance to the fact that a lot of this takes place in a kitchen?

I felt the Lynch tone from the beginning, but it's somehow more aggressive. The visuals are too perfect... and this is probably the most sincere creepiness I've read in a long time...

[bonanzataz]

budgie, i really enjoyed the visuals but wasn't paying attention too much to story. i should probably read it again but i thought it was so interesting that i didn't even need to know what was going on (much like... LYNCH!). i really wish you could make this or find a talented director who could do it for you (it would look great on 35mm, i saw cool shit in my head like during the part where max is smoking the cigarette could be shot like how they smoke in wild at heart (closeups of smokes being quickly inhaled)). i don't know. a good read but would be even better on film in the hands of a capable director. you seem to know what you want, maybe you should take a course or two and learn how to direct or handle film.

[budgie]

Is there any particular significance to the fact that a lot of this takes place in a kitchen?

...

Thanks for the comments, JB. Spot on.

I really didn't analyse as I was writing, and it was just one draft, written very instinctually (which is how I like to do it). Really I had a vision of the space and how the galley kitchen, with doors at either end, was a kind of passing through place. I suppose there might be some psychic connection with the idea of food and consumption, and also the kitchen as a place of creation, obviously. But the whole thing was pretty subconscious and when I reread it now it's telling me a lot of things that I wasn't necessarily aware of when I wrote it.

budgie, i really enjoyed the visuals but wasn't paying attention too much to story.

Well, really the visuals are the story, and I'm glad that the way you read it was kind of the way I wrote it (see above), because that's the way it's supposed to be experienced: felt rather than read. Yes, much like Lynch (or at least how I understand his films).

i really wish you could make this or find a talented director who could do it for you (it would look great on 35mm, i saw cool shit in my head like during the part where max is smoking the cigarette could be shot like how they smoke in wild at heart (closeups of smokes being quickly inhaled)). i don't know. a good read but would be even better on film in the hands of a capable director.

{sigh} You know, I really wish I could make it, or have someone direct it who could see it (with an eye for detail like you suggest). In fact, I'd love to see how someone else realised it. And I think it would develop. It isn't really finished at all.

you seem to know what you want, maybe you should take a course or two and learn how to direct or handle film.

I think it's too late. I'm on a mission to blur the lines between film and writing about film now instead, but it's scaring people, I'm gonna have a fight to push it, and thinking about how expressive images are against words does make me want to just be a visual artist again. I'm incredibly jealous of everyone here on filmmaking courses, and really also just living in a country where it is a credible career choice. That kind of validation is the most valuable thing you have going for you. That and enough cash to do it!

Thanks for the encouragement, tho, Bonanzataz.

[©brad]

budgie i think writing screenplays is an excellent thing for u to pursue. it seems like it would be such a natural talent for u. even in ur posts, especially the longer ones, u give off such strong visuals and tastes. never do we get a one-dimensional post from budgie.

i'm looking forward to budgie's second screenplay.

[budgie]