The document provides a summary of scenes from a film or story. It begins by introducing smiling faces at night and cuts between smiling people and mannequin faces. A title card then reveals the title "A Cut of the Teeth". Subsequent scenes show the main character Ryan cooking, cutting himself with a knife, seeing disturbing flashes, and encountering a girl named Charity. Their relationship escalates as Ryan struggles with intrusive thoughts. The summary concludes with Ryan smiling hungrily while looking into an oven at a prepared meal.

1. Smiles.Faces.We are introducedtoa seriesof smileyhappypeople atnight.CUsof themstaring
intothe lens,handheldwithanelementof camerashake.Whyare theysmiling?Dotheymeanit?
Theyare backlitinblue,coldstreetlamp. We silentlycutto CU of a shop window mannequin,locked
downno cameramovement,framedas if the plasticbodyhada head,litincontrastingwarmand
coldtemperatures. We slowlygobackandforth betweenthese twoimages,eachwithadifferent
face,a differentmannequin.Inthe backgroundthe ‘HenryPlainview’theme,3:10– 4:13, buildsin
suspense.
CUT.
A single fleetingframe.Twosharpeyespointingintothe lens,ontothe audience,ECU.
Back to the seriesof,sterile facesandmannequins. The musicbuilds,the stringsscream. More and
more faces,plasticandbone.
CUT.
The same frame.Followingamannequin. The eyestwitch.He’snotsmiling. Litinamonochrome
bloodred.
CUT. MEAT. Raw bloodymeat.A slabof animal carcass lyingonbrown butcher’s paper. Thistime the
shotremains. Nocolourtemperature,neutral honestlighting,placingthe object’sshadow
underneathit,inthe creases.Toplitlike ashopcounter,a bloodyone at that. The musiccrescendos.
TITLE CARD.Cuttingoverthe image, justoverthe central meatso the white colourcontrastswell. ‘A
Cut of the Teeth’,thin,delicate,calligraphictype font.Writteninwhite. The titlecardishand drawn,
scannedintoa digital file asif done withcelluloid. The textjittersslightly,shakingaroundthe frame
a pixel ortwo. Small blinksof white grainflashinvariablyacrossthe frame.
Interior.Kitchen.Morning
Tear. The brownbutcher’spaperisrippedslowlyinhalf,revealingthe soggymessof ligamentsand
sinewbeneath. RYAN iscooking. He sharpenshisknife,hispaintbrush,readytocarve the canvas
that was‘legof lamb’ intothe proteinrichdelicacyof hischoosing.The lambisdissectedunderhis
careful blade,like aplasticsurgeonshapinghispatient.
Ryan’spreparationisintricate,controlled. He preparesthe sauce to marinate,createsdressingsof
peppercorn,sesame seedandsunfloweroil.
FOCUS ON THE SHARPNESSOFTHE BLADE. He slicesthe lambthenreachesfora serrated knife,
usingitto saw throughthe thickerbone. He placesthe knife backontothe side,knockingthe
sharperblade off the counterinthe process.
The knife landsonhisfootleavingadeep,pinkgash. He pauses.Shock. He’sluckynotto have losta
toe or sliceda vein.
BEAT.
Extreme LA CU ontohisface,scruncheddownwardsinpain,eyesslightlybelow the lens,yetdistant.
His are the eyesof the fleetingcuts.
Back to the foot,still paralyzed. The toespainfullyrecedeinonthemselves,scrunchinghisfootupin
a millisecond,accompanied byascreechingdiegeticblade onceramics.
Interior.Bedroom.Later

2. Ryan leansagainsthisbedpost. Over-earheadphones isolatinghim. Theysaynoman isan island.
White noise canjustbe made outoverhis heavybreathing. Hiseyesopenand close slowly,intime
withthe slow risingandfallingof hischest.
We take the opportunitytopeeraroundhisroom. Three images. A biologytextbook. A wornfobof
car keys.Nophone- emptysockets.Backto Ryan.
His breathingcalmed,he slowlypullsthe headphonesoff andhalf openshiseyes.
Exterior.College.Morning
Walkingthroughcollege tohisfirstlessonof the dayRyan tightly gripshiscollectionof biology
textbooks. He isina shallowfocus,leavingthe remainingstudentsheavilyblurredinthe
background. Ryancontinueswalkingasthe camerapauses,exitingthe frame.
Thenshe walksintofocus. CHARITY.Dressedinrich shadesof red. A girl witha plan. She peersin
Ryan’sdirection,thencarriesonwalking. The social ladderawaits.
Interior.Classroom.Midday
¾ front,mediumof Ryanin a dusty lesson. Twoorthree otherclass membersare visible,satbehind
him,justout of focus. The blindsare drawn,lightsoff,the onlylightcomesfromthe oldnature
documentary.Anarchaicprojectionof life anddeath,simplified. A lionchasesanantelope across
the undevelopedplainsof some distantcountry.
Narrator:
…huntsfor food.Onlykillingwhennecessary.The antelope mayhave the speed,butthe lionwas
bredfor thispurpose.Anapex predatorwithone purpose…
We onlywatchRyan,until…
FLASH.CU of the poorqualityprojection. Predatorroaringatprey. The audiois louder,more
aggressive. Distorted.
Back to Ryan, closer. He issurprised,compromised,breathingheavily.
FLASH. Jaw crunchesbone,the lion shreds the antelope’s rearlegs.
CU, closer. Ryanis obviouslydistressed.He leavesthe lesson,escapingtothe toilet.
Interior.Halway.Midday
Passingthroughthe doorway,Ryanneedstocatch hisbreath,control what he’sfeeling.
He pauses,instantlyfrozenin surprise.
Charitystands,rootedto the spot,caught inthe act, staring at him.
Ryan takesholdof himself andhurriesawaytoa more desolate sanctuary.
Interior.Toilet.Afternoon
He stands,notable to face himself inthe mirror,headdrooping,searchingforsome degree of
serenitydownthe dirtydrown. He clutchesthe sinkasif it’sthe onlyphysical manifestationof his
control.

3. FLASH.The lion,again.Hunting.Killing.Feeding. He’sbombardedwiththese framesagainandagain.
His knucklestighten. He imaginesthe radiostatic. The calmingfrequency. Itrisesandfallsinthe
background. A failingattempttoregaincontrol. Then-
He looksupintothe mirror, dumbstruck.Whatdoeshe see intheir?
Her. Charity.Silentlycutto: herstandinginthe hallway,staringathim- intothe lens,thistime
smiling.
He calms,slowshisbreathing. Searcheshisown eyes,he whispers-
Ryan:
Who isshe?
Exterior.College.Afternoon
Leavingthe toilethe beginstowalkbackto lesson.A floodof pupilsbegintopushpasthimon the
walkhome.Ryanpausesandtheypass eitherside of him, partedbyhisimmobility. He stares
forwards,towardsthe camera,towardsher.
She standsopposite him,agroupof studentsalsomovingeitherside of her.
Theystare at one another.
Interior.Home.Evening
The two of themsit silently,side byside,onRyan’s small livingroomsofa. The televisionison,
sprayingthe roomin painful plasmablues. A redlampsitsbyRyan’sside facingawayfrom Charity,
side lightinghiminwarmertones.
Charitysmiles,incontrol of him. He turnsto lookat her,confused,tryingtounderstandwhyshe
enjoyswatchingthis- tryingtoempathise. Hisheadrotatesbackto try andunpickthe television
showshe has chosen.
Sensinghismovement,she turnstolookat himinstead,watchingsmugly,avoyeurensuringher
target isnot gettingawayanytime soon. She turnsbackto the televisionandqueries-
Charity:
So whatdo youdo?
Ryan turnsback to lack at her,ponderingthe question.
Ryan (V.O):
I Drive,Ienjoy driving.Especiallyatnight.
Interior.Ryan’sCar.Night
Theydrive.He drives. She watches. ‘Frenchnew-wave’inspiredjumpcutsof differentpeopleas they
pass the thincar windows. A cityat night,litbythe saturatedneonshopwindowsand
advertisements,blurringintoastreamof raw colour. It hasrainedrecently. The wetfloor,reflects
thisworldof primarycolours.
Air’s‘Sex BornPoison’risesinthe background,non-diegetic.Veryquiet.

4. Theypass manycouples,manyindividuals.The camerapanswitheachof themuntil theypassthe
car. Cut to the nextone.
Ryan (cont’d V.O):
I like tosee all the differentpeople.Somanyfaces,somanymasks.
Charityglancesat Ryan’shands as he smoothlyplaysthe wheel intoacurve of the road before
turningto lookintohisface once again.
Charity:
So you’re a voyeur.A creep.A stalker.
She smilesatthis‘revelation’,like anarrogantpsychiatrist.
Ryan takeshistime toanswerthis,smilingcoldly,offended, angry.
Ryan:
I like the nightlife.
Charity:
We shouldgosomewhere.
Interior.Underground.Night
CharityleadsRyanby handthroughthe flashing,strobe-litbasement. Inextremeslow motionthe
lightsonlyflasheveryothersecond,givingthe movementastop motion,unreal quality. The audiois
distortedwithalow passfilter, Ryanisunderwater,submerged,claustrophobic.Ananimal inacage.
The bass heavymusicbecomespulse like,aheartbeat.
She stopspullinghim,theystandstill,litbythe light. She shoutssomethingathimhe cannothear.
No one else isvisible. Onlythem. She jumpsupanddownexcited,brieflybefore leavinghim- arms
outstretched,confused.
He staresat her,jumping,bouncing,conversing withasmall groupof teenagersunderthe throbbing
lights.
He stares.CU theirmouths,talking. He islittopdown,shroudinghiseyesinpermanentdarkness.
The static noise rises.
FLASH.The lionreturns.
‘Sex BornPoison’crescendos.
Interior.Kitchen.Evening
Ryan iscookingagain. In timesof distress,angerandfear,hissolutionistocook. A coping
mechanism. He seekscontrol andorder,onlytofinditin the minute precisionof biologyandfood
preparation.
Readingfroma textbook,he whispers-
Ryan:

5. The pufferor Fugufishis a Japanese delicacy. However, everyyearthere are between20and 40
knowncasesof poisoningasa directresultof the fish. Dangerouspartsof the fishinclude the skin,
the intestines,the eyes,the kidneys,the ovariesandthe liver. If preparedwith the slightestwrong,
the meal can be fatal.
A knockat the door. Thisis unusual. Pulledfromhiscookinglikeacrab fromhisshell he goesto the
door to find…
Exterior.Doorway.Night
Charityon the otherside,takingshelterunderthe overhangingroof. It’sacloudy,winternight.
Streetlampsglimmerinthe background,spreadingbackwardslike the longspineof some animal
suburbia. Lightraincoats the floorina reflective glaze,givingthe roadan unnatural digital clarity.
Charity:
“Doesn’tyourdoorbell work?
Ryan:
Why are you here?
Charity(steppinginside,forcedsmile):
I wantedtosee you
Interior.Kitchen.Night
She quicklymovesintoRyan’sdomain,leaving hercoatand bags onthe floor,sizingupthe space-
hersto command.
Charity:
You shouldn’tleaveitsoquieteverywhere.Don’tyoueverfinditcreepy?
She movesoverto the radio,twistingthe knobs withlittle appreciationforthe musicuntil she can
hearanythingotherthan static.
Ryan:
No
Charity:
What were youdoing?
Ryan movestohisworktop,still ladenwithknivesandbone.
Ryan:
Cooking
Interior.LivingRoom.Late
Theysit,once again,on the worn sofa.Side byside, still spacedslightlyapart,staringforward.
Comatose. Lettingthe TV dothe talkingsotheydon’thave to. An array of dirtiedplatesliescattered
aroundthem.Hours of work,hours of agonisingartto create this meal andhave it squanderedin
frontof the TV. The vividblue lightunder-lightstheminacold,sterile blue.Ryanisstill backlitwith

6. the red lamp. Contrastbetweenhisownisolationandothersattemptstoreachhim. Theysitsilently
like thisfora longtime. Until…
Charityreachesforwardto the remote andchangesthe channel.Flashingblue andredlightslightup
the livingroom.She leansbackintoherchair and turnsto face Ryan,shufflingclosertohimalong
the sofa.
Theysitstare at one another. She reachesforwardwithherhand,to touchhis face,place herpalm
on hischeek.Herhandnears andhe flinches.She fallsback. She continuestryingtotame him, touch
hisface,feel himunderherfingertips. He’snervous,like afoal. She’sunrelenting,like astorm. Like a
pair of animalsthey playthisgame,backand forth, movingcloser,stepbystep,underthe flashing
neonlights. Like blue lightening. Finallytouchingone another,she stands, bringinghimupwithher,
slowly.
Interior.Hallway.Late
Hand inhand,theywalkdowna longstraightcorridor,at the endthe bedroomdoorsawaits. Blue
and redlightcascadesdownthe hall,movingbackand forthbetweenone anotherwithavibrantlife
of itsown. Togethertheypassthroughthe doorway.
Fade Out.
Interior.
Breathing.HeavyBreathing.
Drums.
Ryan (V.O):
In orderto stunthe animal before slaughtera captive boltgunisoftenused.Itisdesignedtodeliver
a forceful strike onthe foreheadinordertoinduce unconsciousness. The boltmayor maynot
destroypart of the brain. The pigsthenhave theirblooddraineddependingonthe desiredproduct,
bacon,sausage etc. There hasbeenspeculationastowhetherdrainingthe pigsbloodwhilst the
animal isstill alive improvesthe qualityof the meat. Forthisreasonmanybutchersshopsbuilt
before nineteenseventyhave soundproof wallssoasnot to alarm customerswiththe squealsof
theirdinner.
Interior.Bedroom.Morning
Ryan slowlyopenshiseyes.He sitsupinbed. He turns to her,Charity, still lyingawayfromhim to
the left. He pauses,watchinghermovement,herslow breathing. Hiseyeswanderdownherfigure
and thenback upto her head. He leanscarefullydowntoplace hishandon herneck- notto harm-
but to testthe rigidityof herthroat.
The morningair isthick withsilence.Ryancloseshiseyes,relaxingintothe poweronhisfingertips.
For the firsttime,a thinsmile curlsaroundthe lipsof his jaw.
CUT.
CharityCU, lyingonher side,eyesopen,notacting- outof fear or pleasure we donotknow. She
staresaway fromhim,despite hispawingatherthroat.

7. Her morningalarmrings,carvinga deepline intothe viscousquiet. Ryanwithdrawshishands,taking
care not to bumpor nudge her. Ashe leansbackagainstthe bedsatisfiedshe beginsto‘wake up’,
splayingherarmsin almostcomictheatricality.
Ryan:
How didyousleep?
She isnon responsive,simplystandingupanddressingherselfwithwarmerclothes. She walksover
to the radioalarm and beginsfumblingwithit,tryingtomute itbutonlysucceedinginturning
switchingthe FM; RoxyMusic,‘Inevery dreamhome a heartache’ playsquietlyinthe background.
His smile fades,streamingintoblankness. He getsoutof bedto joinher.
She sitsby the dresser,fiddlingwithher‘makeupbag’. He movesbehindherandplaceshishandson
hershoulders.
Ryan:
I’ve neverunderstoodwhy girlswearmakeup.
Charitystands, turningtowardshimandremoving hishands. Ryanmovesback,recedingtothe
bedside,disorientedandalittle insulted.
Charity:
I’mnot comingback.
If his smile waswoundedbefore,it’snow beenbeatentodeath.
Charity:
I thoughtyouwere justlonelybutyou’re not.
The diegeticaudiofadestoa lowpassfilter,leavingjustthe inaudiblebassof hervoice asRyan
perusesherbodywithhiseyes. He seeshertrulyforthe firsttime,whatshe couldbecome. Her
thigh,
CUT. Slab of meat.
Her fingers,
CUT. Nuts cracking.
Her eyeballs,
Fat sizzling.
The meatymeal liespreparedinatray, inthe oven.
CU. He looksdownintothe oven,intothe lens,adeep,hungry smile onhislips. He slowlyclosesthe
ovendooroverthe camera,fillingthe frame withblack.
Beat.
Back in the bedroom. Theystare at one another. Ryan’seyesbloom,musclesof hisface lightingthat
he didn’tevenknowwere there,manicallysmilingather,a millisecondbefore-
‘Ineverydreamhome a heartache’crescendos intodiegesis;BryanFerry:“Butyou blew mymind”.

8. EXTREME SLOW MOTION- 120 FPS. All diegeticnoise islostinthe bloodfrenzy. Charity’shand
smashesintothe woodenfloorboards,bouncingoff themlikearag doll. A bass soundeffectripples
out onher hand’simpact.
Negative blend-modecreditsrunoverthe footage,inseventies,Tarantino-esque font.
The landline telephone fliesthroughthe air,the chordtaught andstretching.
ThenRyan, overCharity,roaringdowninslow motion,receiverinhand,bringingitdownontoher
head. Bass onlyof hisvocal uproar.