Sunday, 6 March 2011

love and permanence and other vicious lies

A short film script.

[The instrumental parts of "Kodak Ghosts" by Michael Chapman plays throughout.]

Camera pans across a deserted room.  Brightly lit, two receptionists argue on their phones with annoyed clients. One wears glasses. The other is instantly forgettable. A withered vase of daffodils limply offers some dim memory of spring.

A middle aged man with grey hair and brown leather coat sits staring out at the dimming light - obviously wishing to be elsewhere.

A short, reasonably attractive lady of middle age calls out his name.  He responds and follows her. The camera tracks them walking up the corridor from behind.

CU, her: "It's just up here - they leave me in the corner", she says.

MS, him: "Okay, no problem".

MS, her: She points to the pokey little room, "in here, please."

CU of a tiny wood panelled room full of books and small bottles. The camera tilts down to a tiny school kid's chair and a comfortable padded office chair.  "Take a seat, please."

 MS: He sits glumly and waits for the questions.  "How's it been, then?"

MS: "Yeah, okay."  He then goes in to a long explanation of the last month since the Labyrinthitus hit and how it's been.

Camera slowly pans to MS of her seated: "Eczema, then? (cut to CU: he nods); [MS:] That's good. As long as you haven't used any steroids." She looks up hopefully.

Flashback: Visions of a twisted tube of E45 cream lying on the bathroom shelf.  "Oh no, of course not."

MS, her: "Anything else?" she enquires.

MS, him: "Well, I had a sore throat."

MS her: "That's good - haha, not really of course for you, but . . . as long as you didn't take any medication."

CU, him, slightly worried, sniffs: "What, other than the Strepsils, because it hurt?"  Oops. CU to her disappointed, and faintly disgusted look. She writes in her notes.


MS, her: "No coffee, of course?"

Camera pans back to show him sitting in office surrounded by jars and paraphernalia: "Oh no . . ." he lies, shaking his head.  [Flashback] Memories of sitting in a NYC diner waiting for breakfast.  He passes on the fourth cup of coffee.

Office, present. MS, her, smiling: "Well, you're doing really well.  Try not to drink coffee or take anything that antidotes the treatment."

MS, him smiling resignedly: "Of course  - see you next month".  Antidotes?

LS: He leaves.  CU: She raises her eyes to heaven.  [Music:  Northern Lights by Michael Chapman gradually gets louder]. 

Cut to: Shot of his back, walking down corridor, hands in pockets; his footsteps echo through the wooden panelled setting.

. . . do you remember, do you remember, the night it rained?
We were trying, only trying to get away . . . 


Brendini said...

There seems to be a worrying trend of usurping perfectly servicable verbs and using nouns instead.
I blame Hoover.

Dave Leeke said...

Hmmm . . . I guess we'll have to do some thingamybobbing about that one.