Post by Hanelle on Nov 13, 2010 6:52:50 GMT -5
Here is the opening scene to my next film. I wasn't sure which film I should release as my first since coming back...but I think this one fit my style best. So here is the first ten minutes or so of the film.
ROUTE 66
FADE IN:
NEW ORLEANS, LOUISIANA
EXT. STREETS - EVENING
CLOSE on a pair of shoes. Brown dress shoes, nothing special. They walk, one by one, down the paved sidewalk.
"Happiness is a Warm Gun" by Anders Osborne plays as the FILM is introduced. (start at 1:00 into the song)
Percival "Percy" Turner walks down the busy streets of New Orleans. He passes men and women, some holding hands, some talking away on their cellphones. None important enough for this troubled man to even notice briefly.
Percy is in his early-thirties and is dressed in a cheap suit. Something you'd see a travelling salesman wearing perhaps. As the song comes to a close, Percy reaches a street corner and enters a building through two old-fashioned oak doors.
PAN UP to see the simple sign hanging above the establishment's door. It reads:
"ROUTE 66 TAVERN"
INT. ROUTE 66 TAVERN - EVENING
Percy sits solemnly at the bar. A burly bear of a bartender approaches and Percy nods to him. He pours what could be a second, third or even an eighth scotch. Percy sips on this one. A jukebox in the corner plays some random record, but Percy barely notices. He's lost in his self-loathing. A man sits down next to Percy and orders a drink for himself.
WINSTON
Hello there.
Percy barely looks at him, but gives him a disinterested nod.
WINSTON TILLMAN looks at Percy curiously. He takes another drink and fiddles with his long black winter coat. His black hair rests atop his head in a wild, unkempt bunch. Winston speaks with a calm tone.
WINSTON
Long day, huh?
Percy looks annoyed.
PERCY
Yeah. You could say that.
WINSTON
I can relate. So...
(beat)
Let's hear it.
PERCY
I'm sorry?
WINSTON
Your problem. Spill it.
PERCY
No thanks.
Percy turns slightly, giving Winston a hint of the cold-shoulder. This doesn't seem to deter him.
WINSTON
No better medicine than talkin'. Especially to a friend.
Percy turns his head and looks at him strangely. Winston smiles, big. Eerie. But warmly.
WINSTON
(cont.)
Friend?
Percy gives in, mostly just to appease his new "friend".
PERCY
I got fired today.
WINSTON
Fired? From your job?
Percy chuckles under his breath, takes another drink.
PERCY
That's right.
WINSTON
Aren't we in quite a predicament?
Percy gives him a questioning look.
WINSTON
(cont.)
We find ourselves, two strangers, alone in a bar with nobody but Mr. Bartender over there...
The Bartender ignores their converstion, his gaze fixed on the television about his head. The Atlanta Braves play on the screen.
WINSTON
(cont.)
I'm on a night journey. You just got fired, now you're on your own kind of journey. Who the hell fires someone on a Tuesday afternoon anyway? Very odd. What was the job?
Percy starts to answer as Winston extends his hand.
WINSTON
(cont.)
I'm Winston, by the way.
They exchange a handshake.
PERCY
Percy. I'm...I WAS...an odor tester.
Winston laughs, looking at him with unbelieving eyes.
WINSTON
A what? What does an "odor tester" do?
PERCY
Tests odors.
Winston nods, accepting the answer.
PERCY
(cont.)
Like frangrances, colognes, air-fresheners, anti-perspirants. Those kinds of things. Some poor soul has to be the guinea pig for the scientists to test that shit on, right? Well that was me. At least up until about an hour ago.
WINSTON
Why did they fire you?
PERCY
I don't know why they canned me. But I have my suspicions...but I can't prove them.
Winston waits for him to keep going.
PERCY
(cont.)
I've went to my supervisor a few times in the last couple months. I've been having these..these terrible headaches. Been sick a lot too, had to go to the hospital once. The doc said it's from a high exposure to mercury. I told him that. Two week later --
WINSTON
They swiftly brought down the knife.
(Percy nods)
Makes sense. Well you have to look at the positive of the situation. Always look at the positive Percy.
Percy laughs overtly loud now, shaking his head.
PERCY
What positives do you see in this situation..
(trying to remember his name)
Winston?
WINSTON
Please, call me Winst. You got fired today from a job that in the end might just kill you. That's a positive. You being fired brought you into this bar, to this moment. To meet me.
(beat)
I think things will get very interesting for you from now on.
Percy rolls his eyes, beginning to think Winst might be a little nutzo. Winst turns to the bartender.
WINSTON
'Scuse me Mr. Bartender. Can I get another one of these?
(looks at Percy's near-empty glass)
And get another one for him please?
The Bartender scowls at him and brings the drinks.
THE BARTENDER
There you go.
He quickly hurries back to the Braves game.
WINSTON
That's just something that pisses me off. Why does he have to be a dick? Why get into the bartender business if you're gonna' treat your customers like dogs?
PERCY
Looks like he's really enjoying the game.
WINSTON
Yeah, looks like it. It's just that, a game. Big fuckin' deal. They throw a damn ball around and hit it with wooden sticks. That's worth twenty mil a year? Please.
(beat)
And what the fuck is a guy livin' in Nah'lins doing watching the Atlanta Braves anyway? Shit!
Percy instintively puts his hand on the mans shoulder.
PERCY
Take it easy...
Winst smiles at him, friendly.
WINSTON
I apologize. Sometimes my rants go on a little too far. But you can't tell me things like this don't piss you off?
PERCY
No, of course they do. But what can you do, right?
WINSTON
Plenty you can do. Take control back.
PERCY
What're you talkin' about?
WINSTON
I'm talking about showing sons of bitches like Mr. Bartender or sons of bitches like your damn boss that they can't go around doin' whatever they want and treating people like shit. Not without a price.
The bar seems to dim. The darkness coming at a perfect time seeing as the conversation has drastically turned just that. Winst stares at Percy, his eyes lit up in a very creepy fashion in the small tavern.
Long BEAT. After some time the juke box kicks into a new record. "Runaway" by Del Shannon begins to play. Winst smiles nostalgically.
WINSTON
This really takes you back, don't ya' think?
PERCY
Back?
WINSTON
My younger years. Yours too, I imagine. Whenever this song would come on the radio my father would always hum along. As would I. Things were so much more simple then. Just a better time.
PERCY
You could say that. So Winston, you married?
WINSTON
Married? Nah, not me. Never had the stomach for it. What about you?
PERCY
Divorced. Got a beautiful daughter out of the fuck-up of a marriage though.
WINSTON
How old is she?
Percy pulls a photo from his wallet, showing it to Winston.
CLOSE on the photo. Percy's daughter is a cute little thing, not much older than ten. Her blonde hair is tied back in a ponytail and her dazzling white teeth shine through an exquisite smile.
PERCY
She's nine.
(beat)
Ten. She's ten now.
WINSTON
Lives with her mom?
Percy nods.
PERCY
Back in Pennsylvania. I haven't seen her since she was three.
Winston frowns, finishing his drink. An awkward silence fills the smoky room. The photo of the young girl sits on the bar in front of them.
WINSTON
Life is pain, Percy. Things go awry and everything we dream about as kids slowly fade to black. The good wife, the white fence. Sitting around at breakfast with a couple of Cleaver-looking kids. It's all bullshit. We grow up and we look back and think "Why the hell did I want that in the first place?" Man's gotta' have some excitement. More than dinner at seven and perhaps a late night viewing of TV Land reruns. Life is ours to take. We have to go out and find the paradise we all so desire. You know what I'm talking about Percy?
Percy shakes his head "no".
PERCY
Can't say that I do.
WINSTON
Everyone has a paradise somewhere. Some we have to find, but sometimes we have to make it for ourselves. A world where we say fuck the man. Fuck doing what is deemed "appropriate". Your boss. Your wife. This pathetic excuse for a bartender. A paradise where we don't take shit. From anyone.
Percy, a few scotches in, agrees to play along.
PERCY
So how do I find said paradise?
WINSTON
Everyone's path leading to it is different. Sometimes you get so lost...so incredibly confused...that someone has to come into your life and give you a little push.
PERCY
You here to push me Winston?
He smiles and shrugs his shoulders.
WINSTON
Possibly. It all depends, really.
PERCY
On what?
WINSTON
What happens next.
PERCY
Okay, I'm losing you. What is going to happen next?
WINSTON
Next...you either find your paradise.
Winston reaches down below the bar. Tucked into his black leather boot is a 9MM. Small and sleek. He places it onto the counter causing Percy's eyes to bulge nearly from his head.
WINSTON
(cont.)
Or you don't.
Percy leans forward intensely, his voice lowered to a frightened whisper.
PERCY
Are you fucking crazy, man? Put that thing away.
WINSTON
Paradise lies right here in front of you, my friend. You just have to reach out and take it.
Mr. Bartender, without taking his gaze away from the game, scoffs at the two.
BARTENDER
You two mind keeping it down? It's not every day the Braves make a race to the pennant, y'know?
Winston eyes Percy.
PERCY
I'm not touching that damn thing. Put it away before you get us arrested or something.
WINSTON
We're not going to get arrested, Percy.
(he looks into his eyes, placing a hand on his shoulder)
Trust me.
Percy shakes his head, placing a hand to his temple. His migraine returning slowly.
WINSTON
(cont.)
Have you ever held a gun before?
PERCY
What? No. Why would I?!?
WINSTON
To feel the power. Such a small little object can make you feel like a God, Percy. It's majestic. Surreal. Just take it, Percy. It's like nothing you've ever felt in your miserable little existance.
PERCY
(leaning forward, whispering)
You're insane!
WINSTON
Maybe, maybe not. What I am is blissful. What I am is a man, who not long ago, was in your position. I was lost and miserable. Wasting away in this tired life. I found a way to turn it around. A way to give meaning to everything. Now I'm trying to show you the same, Percy. Pick it up and just feel the strength it gives you.
(beat)
Trust me.
Percy shakes his head angrily. He gives a long stare into Winston's eyes, who doesn't waiver even slightly. He then steals a glance at Mr. Bartender, still busy with the game.
Slowly he extends his hand toward the gun on the bar. He wraps his fingers around the butt of it, lifting it toward his chest. Suprisingly heavy, he loosely holds it in his palm.
WINSTON
(cont.)
Feels good, doesn't it?
Surprisingly...it fucking does. The mild shake in his hand begins to go away and his body relaxes. Comfort washes over him.
Percy even flashes Winston a thin smile.
As the Braves game goes to commercial the bartender approaches the duo. Perfect timing.
The Bartender stops dead in his tracks, staring menacingly at Percy who holds a glock at chest level.
BARTENDER
What the fuck are you doing with that, son?
Percy tries to speak, but the words don't seem to come out. Winston doesn't take his eyes off of Percy.
BARTENDER
(cont.)
I suggest you put that away. Y'think you're the first piece of shit to come in here flashin' a piece? No sir.
Winst leans close to Percy.
WINSTON
(whispering in his ear)
Paradise my friend. It's yours.
Percy looks over to Winston who laughs in a surreal manner. Percy shakes his head, trying to make that voice in his ear go away.
It's at that moment the bartender reaches under the bar for the sawed-off shotgun he stashed last year.
WINSTON
(screaming)
It's yours! TAKE IT!
BOOM!
The gun fires.
Percy stares, eyes wide, as a trail of smoke billows into the air before his eyes. Winst sits next to him, smiling proudly.
Mr. Atlanta Braves stands behind the counter, a single bullet somewhere in his brain. The entry point between his eyes trickles a small line of blood down the bridge of his nose. His body slumps forward knocking glasses off the bar, shattering onto the floor.
After a unusually long hover over the bar, the body falls to the floor with a loud THUMP.
Percy looks over to Winst, gun still at chest level. His face is expressionless now.
WINSTON
There you go.
(beat)
Dead as a fucking dodo.
NEW ORLEANS, LOUISIANA
EXT. STREETS - EVENING
CLOSE on a pair of shoes. Brown dress shoes, nothing special. They walk, one by one, down the paved sidewalk.
"Happiness is a Warm Gun" by Anders Osborne plays as the FILM is introduced. (start at 1:00 into the song)
Percival "Percy" Turner walks down the busy streets of New Orleans. He passes men and women, some holding hands, some talking away on their cellphones. None important enough for this troubled man to even notice briefly.
Percy is in his early-thirties and is dressed in a cheap suit. Something you'd see a travelling salesman wearing perhaps. As the song comes to a close, Percy reaches a street corner and enters a building through two old-fashioned oak doors.
PAN UP to see the simple sign hanging above the establishment's door. It reads:
"ROUTE 66 TAVERN"
INT. ROUTE 66 TAVERN - EVENING
Percy sits solemnly at the bar. A burly bear of a bartender approaches and Percy nods to him. He pours what could be a second, third or even an eighth scotch. Percy sips on this one. A jukebox in the corner plays some random record, but Percy barely notices. He's lost in his self-loathing. A man sits down next to Percy and orders a drink for himself.
WINSTON
Hello there.
Percy barely looks at him, but gives him a disinterested nod.
WINSTON TILLMAN looks at Percy curiously. He takes another drink and fiddles with his long black winter coat. His black hair rests atop his head in a wild, unkempt bunch. Winston speaks with a calm tone.
WINSTON
Long day, huh?
Percy looks annoyed.
PERCY
Yeah. You could say that.
WINSTON
I can relate. So...
(beat)
Let's hear it.
PERCY
I'm sorry?
WINSTON
Your problem. Spill it.
PERCY
No thanks.
Percy turns slightly, giving Winston a hint of the cold-shoulder. This doesn't seem to deter him.
WINSTON
No better medicine than talkin'. Especially to a friend.
Percy turns his head and looks at him strangely. Winston smiles, big. Eerie. But warmly.
WINSTON
(cont.)
Friend?
Percy gives in, mostly just to appease his new "friend".
PERCY
I got fired today.
WINSTON
Fired? From your job?
Percy chuckles under his breath, takes another drink.
PERCY
That's right.
WINSTON
Aren't we in quite a predicament?
Percy gives him a questioning look.
WINSTON
(cont.)
We find ourselves, two strangers, alone in a bar with nobody but Mr. Bartender over there...
The Bartender ignores their converstion, his gaze fixed on the television about his head. The Atlanta Braves play on the screen.
WINSTON
(cont.)
I'm on a night journey. You just got fired, now you're on your own kind of journey. Who the hell fires someone on a Tuesday afternoon anyway? Very odd. What was the job?
Percy starts to answer as Winston extends his hand.
WINSTON
(cont.)
I'm Winston, by the way.
They exchange a handshake.
PERCY
Percy. I'm...I WAS...an odor tester.
Winston laughs, looking at him with unbelieving eyes.
WINSTON
A what? What does an "odor tester" do?
PERCY
Tests odors.
Winston nods, accepting the answer.
PERCY
(cont.)
Like frangrances, colognes, air-fresheners, anti-perspirants. Those kinds of things. Some poor soul has to be the guinea pig for the scientists to test that shit on, right? Well that was me. At least up until about an hour ago.
WINSTON
Why did they fire you?
PERCY
I don't know why they canned me. But I have my suspicions...but I can't prove them.
Winston waits for him to keep going.
PERCY
(cont.)
I've went to my supervisor a few times in the last couple months. I've been having these..these terrible headaches. Been sick a lot too, had to go to the hospital once. The doc said it's from a high exposure to mercury. I told him that. Two week later --
WINSTON
They swiftly brought down the knife.
(Percy nods)
Makes sense. Well you have to look at the positive of the situation. Always look at the positive Percy.
Percy laughs overtly loud now, shaking his head.
PERCY
What positives do you see in this situation..
(trying to remember his name)
Winston?
WINSTON
Please, call me Winst. You got fired today from a job that in the end might just kill you. That's a positive. You being fired brought you into this bar, to this moment. To meet me.
(beat)
I think things will get very interesting for you from now on.
Percy rolls his eyes, beginning to think Winst might be a little nutzo. Winst turns to the bartender.
WINSTON
'Scuse me Mr. Bartender. Can I get another one of these?
(looks at Percy's near-empty glass)
And get another one for him please?
The Bartender scowls at him and brings the drinks.
THE BARTENDER
There you go.
He quickly hurries back to the Braves game.
WINSTON
That's just something that pisses me off. Why does he have to be a dick? Why get into the bartender business if you're gonna' treat your customers like dogs?
PERCY
Looks like he's really enjoying the game.
WINSTON
Yeah, looks like it. It's just that, a game. Big fuckin' deal. They throw a damn ball around and hit it with wooden sticks. That's worth twenty mil a year? Please.
(beat)
And what the fuck is a guy livin' in Nah'lins doing watching the Atlanta Braves anyway? Shit!
Percy instintively puts his hand on the mans shoulder.
PERCY
Take it easy...
Winst smiles at him, friendly.
WINSTON
I apologize. Sometimes my rants go on a little too far. But you can't tell me things like this don't piss you off?
PERCY
No, of course they do. But what can you do, right?
WINSTON
Plenty you can do. Take control back.
PERCY
What're you talkin' about?
WINSTON
I'm talking about showing sons of bitches like Mr. Bartender or sons of bitches like your damn boss that they can't go around doin' whatever they want and treating people like shit. Not without a price.
The bar seems to dim. The darkness coming at a perfect time seeing as the conversation has drastically turned just that. Winst stares at Percy, his eyes lit up in a very creepy fashion in the small tavern.
Long BEAT. After some time the juke box kicks into a new record. "Runaway" by Del Shannon begins to play. Winst smiles nostalgically.
WINSTON
This really takes you back, don't ya' think?
PERCY
Back?
WINSTON
My younger years. Yours too, I imagine. Whenever this song would come on the radio my father would always hum along. As would I. Things were so much more simple then. Just a better time.
PERCY
You could say that. So Winston, you married?
WINSTON
Married? Nah, not me. Never had the stomach for it. What about you?
PERCY
Divorced. Got a beautiful daughter out of the fuck-up of a marriage though.
WINSTON
How old is she?
Percy pulls a photo from his wallet, showing it to Winston.
CLOSE on the photo. Percy's daughter is a cute little thing, not much older than ten. Her blonde hair is tied back in a ponytail and her dazzling white teeth shine through an exquisite smile.
PERCY
She's nine.
(beat)
Ten. She's ten now.
WINSTON
Lives with her mom?
Percy nods.
PERCY
Back in Pennsylvania. I haven't seen her since she was three.
Winston frowns, finishing his drink. An awkward silence fills the smoky room. The photo of the young girl sits on the bar in front of them.
WINSTON
Life is pain, Percy. Things go awry and everything we dream about as kids slowly fade to black. The good wife, the white fence. Sitting around at breakfast with a couple of Cleaver-looking kids. It's all bullshit. We grow up and we look back and think "Why the hell did I want that in the first place?" Man's gotta' have some excitement. More than dinner at seven and perhaps a late night viewing of TV Land reruns. Life is ours to take. We have to go out and find the paradise we all so desire. You know what I'm talking about Percy?
Percy shakes his head "no".
PERCY
Can't say that I do.
WINSTON
Everyone has a paradise somewhere. Some we have to find, but sometimes we have to make it for ourselves. A world where we say fuck the man. Fuck doing what is deemed "appropriate". Your boss. Your wife. This pathetic excuse for a bartender. A paradise where we don't take shit. From anyone.
Percy, a few scotches in, agrees to play along.
PERCY
So how do I find said paradise?
WINSTON
Everyone's path leading to it is different. Sometimes you get so lost...so incredibly confused...that someone has to come into your life and give you a little push.
PERCY
You here to push me Winston?
He smiles and shrugs his shoulders.
WINSTON
Possibly. It all depends, really.
PERCY
On what?
WINSTON
What happens next.
PERCY
Okay, I'm losing you. What is going to happen next?
WINSTON
Next...you either find your paradise.
Winston reaches down below the bar. Tucked into his black leather boot is a 9MM. Small and sleek. He places it onto the counter causing Percy's eyes to bulge nearly from his head.
WINSTON
(cont.)
Or you don't.
Percy leans forward intensely, his voice lowered to a frightened whisper.
PERCY
Are you fucking crazy, man? Put that thing away.
WINSTON
Paradise lies right here in front of you, my friend. You just have to reach out and take it.
Mr. Bartender, without taking his gaze away from the game, scoffs at the two.
BARTENDER
You two mind keeping it down? It's not every day the Braves make a race to the pennant, y'know?
Winston eyes Percy.
PERCY
I'm not touching that damn thing. Put it away before you get us arrested or something.
WINSTON
We're not going to get arrested, Percy.
(he looks into his eyes, placing a hand on his shoulder)
Trust me.
Percy shakes his head, placing a hand to his temple. His migraine returning slowly.
WINSTON
(cont.)
Have you ever held a gun before?
PERCY
What? No. Why would I?!?
WINSTON
To feel the power. Such a small little object can make you feel like a God, Percy. It's majestic. Surreal. Just take it, Percy. It's like nothing you've ever felt in your miserable little existance.
PERCY
(leaning forward, whispering)
You're insane!
WINSTON
Maybe, maybe not. What I am is blissful. What I am is a man, who not long ago, was in your position. I was lost and miserable. Wasting away in this tired life. I found a way to turn it around. A way to give meaning to everything. Now I'm trying to show you the same, Percy. Pick it up and just feel the strength it gives you.
(beat)
Trust me.
Percy shakes his head angrily. He gives a long stare into Winston's eyes, who doesn't waiver even slightly. He then steals a glance at Mr. Bartender, still busy with the game.
Slowly he extends his hand toward the gun on the bar. He wraps his fingers around the butt of it, lifting it toward his chest. Suprisingly heavy, he loosely holds it in his palm.
WINSTON
(cont.)
Feels good, doesn't it?
Surprisingly...it fucking does. The mild shake in his hand begins to go away and his body relaxes. Comfort washes over him.
Percy even flashes Winston a thin smile.
As the Braves game goes to commercial the bartender approaches the duo. Perfect timing.
The Bartender stops dead in his tracks, staring menacingly at Percy who holds a glock at chest level.
BARTENDER
What the fuck are you doing with that, son?
Percy tries to speak, but the words don't seem to come out. Winston doesn't take his eyes off of Percy.
BARTENDER
(cont.)
I suggest you put that away. Y'think you're the first piece of shit to come in here flashin' a piece? No sir.
Winst leans close to Percy.
WINSTON
(whispering in his ear)
Paradise my friend. It's yours.
Percy looks over to Winston who laughs in a surreal manner. Percy shakes his head, trying to make that voice in his ear go away.
It's at that moment the bartender reaches under the bar for the sawed-off shotgun he stashed last year.
WINSTON
(screaming)
It's yours! TAKE IT!
BOOM!
The gun fires.
Percy stares, eyes wide, as a trail of smoke billows into the air before his eyes. Winst sits next to him, smiling proudly.
Mr. Atlanta Braves stands behind the counter, a single bullet somewhere in his brain. The entry point between his eyes trickles a small line of blood down the bridge of his nose. His body slumps forward knocking glasses off the bar, shattering onto the floor.
After a unusually long hover over the bar, the body falls to the floor with a loud THUMP.
Percy looks over to Winst, gun still at chest level. His face is expressionless now.
WINSTON
There you go.
(beat)
Dead as a fucking dodo.
CUT TO BLACK
