Author Topic: Someone, short film, feature film or no film. You decide  (Read 3211 times)

Offline wrightm1

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Someone, short film, feature film or no film. You decide
« on: April 30, 2013, 04:06:06 PM »
This script is very much a first draft, and has a change , but is not finished, just wondering, if it is just worth leaving alone and never coming back too, going on with a change, or getting rid of the change and continuing with what happens? I am aware that that was badly worded. Also, this is set in Britain. And also the script isn't right in the fact that there are no 'Ext's etc, it is written more as a stage script, and isn't very good, but hey.
Someone

Black. Sounds of cheering, audiences. Narration plays over the top.
John (narration)
Listen to that crowd. All for one guy. Or girl. Maybe a group of talented singers. Problem is, I donít have a talent. And Iím not exactly passing my A Levels or anything. Iím more of the opinion that if something is gonna happen to me, Iíve got to do it my own way. To be honest, I just want to be famous.
Title sequence plays. Loud music, as credits roll. Almost going through history of fame. Shots of Oscar nights, and then Youtube sensations. It builds louder and louder, then to the title ĎSomeoneí, and then the music cuts.
Cut to: John staring, TV playing in background, a talent show.
Present Day
Dad:
Itís just bollocks isnít it?
John suddenly is distracted, almost in a trance. Dreaming almost.
John:
What? Yeah, but itís entertaining though.
Dad:
Its bullshit is what it is.
Mum:
(whispering, as if John didnít hear, like he is still a child)
Will you watch your language.
Dad:
(pause) No. Heís not a fucking tweenie.
Mum:
Oh for Godís sake.
Dad:
What? Weíre watching some shitty TV. There is fucking football on, and Iím watching some assholes prancing about.
Mum:
We are not watching football. Youíve watched it all afternoon.
Dad:
I donít give a shit.
Mum:
(sigh) Sometimes...
Dad:
Sometimes?
Silence.
Dad:
Well that just says it fucking all, doesnít it? (under his breath as getting up) Fucks sake.
He gets up.. Goes to leave.

Mum:
Well, where are you going now?
Dad:
The pub.
Mum:
You are not. You promised.
Dad:
Well things fucking change donít they.
Door slams. Camera doesnít move. Itís from Johnís perspective. The mother is in the hallway. All that can be heard is tears. Quiet tears. She doesnít want the attention.

Cut to-  Talent Show music transitions- A college. Grey skies, as it always is. Everything is traditional. Following behind John, and a few friends, two boys and a girl. Following them as they make their way in. They are very much in between- they simply make their way through the years. They are not normally noticed.
Chloe:
I donít know what Iím going to do. Our teacher never tells us anything, I swear. Sheís such a fucking hypocrite; she actually made us redo her class review yesterday. (mocking tone) Because she didnít agree with it. (under her breath) Bitch.
Cal:
(Interrupting)
We made out last night. I couldnít freakiní believe it. It kinda came out of nowhere.
Joe:
Are you kidding me?
Cal:
Yes. I am Joe. Thatís why I fucking said it. Asshole.
Chloe:
So I take it weíre not gonna talk about my thing then. Not interesting, is it?
Cal:
Not really no. Letís face it, youíre doing English. Itís a soft subject, ainít it?
Chloe:
(Ha) Look, I know youíre trying to piss me off. Iím not playing.
Cal:
Iím not trying anything, reading isnít a talent.
Joe sniggers seemingly every time Cal speaks. Chloe has a smirk on her face, it is light-hearted always.
Chloe:
Oh, Iíd like to see you try what I do.
Cal:
So would I.
Chloe:
That doesnít make any sense.
Cal:
How?
Chloe:
(pause, something flirtatious between them) Asshole.
Chloe leaves to English.
Joe:
She likes you. Please tell me you know that
Cal:
Fuck off Joe.
Joe:
Funnily enough, thatís exactly what Iím going to do... now.
Joe leaves. The camera zooms out to see John is also with them, he hasnít said a word. He is just part of the group. They walk together in silence glancing every so often at each other.
1970. The audience is not made aware by a subtitle or caption. We enter a classroom, everything looks older to the eye. A large chalkboard, and a stack of books rests on a table. A frail old woman towers over, with a hunched back. A grouchy woman. It is a 1970s classroom.
Danny:
456?
Mrs Crat:
No. I have told you before Danny, you have to multiply it. Not divide it... For Dannyís mistake will everyone please turn to page 34 of the ĎMaths is Funí textbook? There is a triangle talking to a square. Found it? ... No...? Is everyone dead today? Good. Then get on with it.
Mrs Crat then goes to drink some tea. It is empty. She sighs and sits. Breathing in and out. The clock ticks with her breathing, while the pages turn at a beat also. We slowly look at Danny, becoming more and more agitated. The noises become louder and louder. Building up, to an uncomfortable degree.
Then cut back to John being hit over the head buy another classmate.
A Bully:
Dickíead
John:
(under his breath) Sense is officially made.
We follow John as he leaves school. No-one makes way for him. It is a struggle to get out. When we reach the doors, a tandem bike, with his mother sitting on the front seat calls over. John looks around to make sure no-one has seen. He puts his hood up, and runs over to his mother.
Mum:
Oh will you take that silly thing off; your father would have a fit.
John:
Just go.
As they start cycling, Mum starts talking.
Mum:
Fine, for Godís sake. Now tell me how was school. I heard that you were doing Math today.
John:
I didnít just do Math, Mum. Itís school. We do loads of things. (fading out to the next scene)

1970- A home. A brown tinge set across the windows. The Dad is staring down at his son, a cane in one hand)

1970 Dad:
Donít try to be a hero you little shit. You forgot to get eggs. Thatís why you get hit. Itís as simple as that.
Danny looks up at his Father. Fear is all he feels. There is a silence, and then Danny gets up, and leaves the house. He turns to the house looking down on him. He sees a rock, and considers the notion of throwing it at the window. He decides not to.
He screams at the house, and runs away.

Cut to
A high street of sorts. It is run down, and mostly populated by old women standing by bus stops, attached to their zimmoframes and walking sticks. He rushes through the street, until he comes to a TV shop, old TVs tower the window, and he walks inside. The bleak grey walls blend with the pale man sitting at the desk. He is old and frail, and has a photo of an old woman hanging behind him sitting with a lot of TVs- there is also a picture of a pug staring on the desk. It is brighter than the rest of pictures, as there are many other photos of dogs that surround it.
Frank (old man):
ĎBout time you turned up. How are we lad?
Danny rushes past. He knocks a TV by accident. It all goes silent. Danny stops, and looks straight at Frank, embarrassed; worried that Frank may throw him out. A tension builds.
Frank:
*sigh* Take a seat. Youíve got to stop breaking my things. I need to at least look like Iím selling some of this stuff.
He suddenly notices red marks on Dannyís neck. Danny recognises that Frank knows what is going on, and tries to leave.
Danny:
Iíve got to go.
Frank:
No, you are not going anywhere son. This cannot go on any longer. Tell me, what is going on? Look we all know that Jim is struggling with your mumís passing, but this is beyond... well ... Danny? Tell me whatís happening here.
Danny:
Like ya donít already know. Everybody fucking knows, but theyíre just too fucking scared to do anything about it. Just because my mum died. It doesnít make him special. (his voice starts to crack) What makes you think that he didnít kill her!....
A long pause. Danny realises what he has just said.
Shit.
He runs out the shop, as the door swings back and forth seeing the shock in Frankís face.
Frank:
Wait...
The camera follows Danny as he runs out of the shop, and passes by the elderly; he passes many offices, then schools and nurseries, before he comes to a field. It is quiet, empty. He runs in the middle and collapses, screaming, the stress and anger is released. We zoom out, he is alone, and it merges into a painting in Johnís house, and the Dad is standing there looking at it, recognising the loneliness. The door opens, from behind, it cuts to following John, as the Mum is talking about the latest reality sitcom.
Mum:
I couldnít believe it but Joey was having it with the twins down the road from them. Now, I missed last weekís show, so Iíll have to catch it on the box.
John:
OK.
Mum: (noticing Dad is back, she stumbles and drops the bike onto John):
Dan.
Dad:
Yeah.
A long pause lasts between them. Mum builds up anger almost, considering what to make of the situation.
Mum (conflicted):
Get out.
Dad:
Come on, donít be ridicule..
Mum:
No, donít you dare. Not in front of him. You left. Iíve had it.
Dad:
I have nowhere to go, and I..
Mum:
You lied, so donít you dare try blaming this..
Dad:
You were being a bitch.
A long pause.
Dad:
I didnít mean that..
Mum:
Get out.... Get the FUCK OUT OF MY HOUSE!

Dad:
Jenny, I love yo..
Mum:
Donít you Fucking dare. I have fucking had it. You got five seconds before I take that phone and tell them what youíve done to me and my son... Youíre becoming him Danny. Is that what you want?
Dad leaves the house, anger and frustration fulfils him.
John:
Mum?
Mum:
What Danny? WHAT THE FUCK DO YOU WANT NOW?
John:
I was just wondering if you wanted me to do dinner.
Mum:
Oh, Johnny Iím sorry.
John:
Itís John! Why do you think my lifeís so messed up huh? Cause of all this crap. Itís bullshit. Heís bullshit. And youíre bullshit.
A long pause.
Mum:
John, please?
John:
No, you know what. Fuck the both of you.
He leaves, slams the door that seemingly makes the house feel as if it has vibrated and left a hole in the room. It is quiet, and we slowly look to the Mum, who is crying, she is alone, and has lost everything. But she has tried her best to fix everything, but it has all gone wrong. It fades to black, and the words ĎFiní come up on the screen, and a small applause occurs, nothing too enthusiastic.
Critic 1:
Derived mess. What a disappointment.
Critic 2:
Yes, I thought that the time changes would come into it a little more, and the script was clichťd as could be.
Critic 1:
I just wish it was going somewhere. Well, I guess you canít win every battle, eh? Well, time to write my little critical entree. Iíll go for a solid two if you donít mind.
Critic 2:
No problem kind sir, Iíll be giving it a slight three. Only just three though, simply for the visual style of the film, tis all.
Critic 1:
Well, bish bash bosh, must be on my way to the bakery to pick up some cakes for my mother.
Critic 2:
See you at brunch, or maybe for lunch. (An odd posh laugh) HoHoHo
The lights come up, and two old men with bright scarves stand up, and tie white jumpers round their neck. In the background is a young man, who innocently looks down at his hands, disappointed by something, the camera slowly zooms in, and as he looks up, a small text appears to the side of him, ĎSomeoneí.



[/b]
« Last Edit: May 01, 2013, 01:19:12 PM by wrightm1 »

Offline Alice, a Country Gal

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Re: Someone, short film, feature film or no film. You decide
« Reply #1 on: April 30, 2013, 04:07:29 PM »
Youíll find our members are great at helping one another, but it helps if you read and follow the guidelines first.
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Offline 2par

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Re: Someone, short film, feature film or no film. You decide
« Reply #2 on: May 01, 2013, 12:01:52 AM »
Wright, after you introduce and tell us a bit about yourself, take a look around and make some comments, then you can present your work and we can talk about it.
« Last Edit: May 01, 2013, 12:06:14 AM by 2par »

Offline 510bhan

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Re: Someone, short film, feature film or no film. You decide
« Reply #3 on: May 01, 2013, 03:56:58 PM »
In a British setting they'd study maths not math.  Zimmoframe ->>> Zimmer frame;)

Also . . . not sure there would have been quite so much 'fucking/fuck' used in the 1970s segment.

I'm confused by the John/Danny/Frank element . . . is Frank just a family friend of Danny/Dad or an employer? The term 'son' by him to Dan/Danny is it just a term of endearment or is he the grandfather? :-[

Offline 2par

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Re: Someone, short film, feature film or no film. You decide
« Reply #4 on: May 04, 2013, 12:41:26 AM »
I read this more closely and Dan is the dad at the present time and Danny in 1970.   In other words, Danny grows up, has a son named John and treats John just like his dad had treated him.  
My confusion comes at the end concerning the young man.  I'm supposing he's John and he's just overheard the critics give a thumbs down on his autobiographical film.
Wright - rewrite this and leave out all the directions to the camera.  Clearly state the year each section contains. Put names all in caps = JOHN, DAN, etc.   Do not refer to Dan as Dad.  He is Dan.  And Jenny is Dan's wife, John's mother.

Oh, and this in no way resembles a stage play form.
« Last Edit: May 04, 2013, 12:45:54 AM by 2par »