Fascinating. Gripping. Riveting. Ultimately interesting and enjoyable samples of my writing style: scripts. treatments. screenplays

1.
SCRIPTS.
TREATMENTS.
PRESENTATIONS.

2. Stealing
Michael
Treatment
OLIVIA
winces
in
pain
as
an
instance
of
clarity
breaks
through
the
fog
she’s
been
experiencing,
for
what
now
seems
like
hours.
She
looks
up
at
the
corroded,
rust-­‐colored
pipes
running
across
the
ceiling
above
her,
hears
the
pitter-­‐
pattering
of
slowly
dripping
sediment,
splashing
onto
the
dirty
tarpaulin
she’s
lying
on.
The
drops
splash
up
red
with
blood,
her
blood.
She
knows
something
is
not
right
–
she
doesn’t
belong
here,
but
can’t
figure
it
out,
just
too
listless,
drugged
.
.
.
her
mind
flashes
on
a
dimly
remembered
all-­‐white
space,
surrounded
by
curtains,
nice
people
running
in
and
out,
the
sounds
of
beeping
machines
–
now,
only
the
deafening
silence.
Silence,
except
for
that
woman
admonishing
her
to
push
again.
And
again.
____________
CYNTHIA
is
getting
impatient.
The
woman’s
damned
cervix
is
still
shut
tight
as
a
drum.
Squatting
between
the
woman’s
legs,
she
wipes
her
arm
across
her
sweaty
brow,
and
adjusts
into
a
more
comfortable
position,
The
murky
light
is
not
helping
matters
much.
She
licks
her
dry
lips,
and
looks
around
at
the
sinister
shadows,
wondering
yet
again
if
she’s
doing
the
right
thing.
She
then
picks
up
the
knife
with
an
exasperated
sigh.

3. Olivia
is
stricken
by
one
final
paroxysm
of
intense
pain.
The
last
thing
she
hears
before
lapsing
into
unconsciousness
is
the
high-­‐pitched
shriek
of
a
newborn
baby.
12
years
later
Cynthia’s
eyes
snap
open
at
the
sound
of
the
piercing
alarm
clock
on
her
bedside
table.
Jerking
forward
in
alarm,
she
throws
her
covers
off
and
searches
for
something
with
her
hands,
all
the
while
trying
to
unravel
the
sheets
twisted
around
her
legs.
Now
fully
awake,
she
sighs
with
relief,
or
is
it
resignation,
as
she
wipes
away
the
sweaty
hair
matted
to
her
forehead,
but
her
expression
is
anything
but
serene.
As
she
hits
the
alarm
button,
stopping
the
sound,
her
fingers
twist
a
stray
strand
of
hair,
a
comfortable
habit.
Standing
at
the
counter
in
her
tiny,
functional
kitchen
Cynthia
finishes
making
her
sandwich
–
spreading
mayo
on
the
bread,
then
folding
it
over
the
turkey
slices,
careful
not
to
let
the
cranberries
scatter
-­‐
neatly
wraps
it
in
Saran
and
places
it
in
a
paper
lunch
bag,
along
with
an
apple
and
a
yogurt.
She
does
so
by
rote,
as
her
attention
is
riveted
to
the
Superman
cartoon
playing
on
her
small
TV
set.
____________

4. Cynthia
methodically
and
hastily
finishes
placing
lunch
items
in
a
paper
bag.
“Shit!”
she
mumbles
under
her
breath.
She
grabs
a
sandwich
back
out
of
the
bag
and
unwraps
it
on
the
counter.
Turning
around,
she
grabs
a
canister
off
the
shelf
behind
her,
opens
it
and
proceeds
to
count
out
12
cranberries,
placing
them
on
the
turkey
slices.
Licking
a
dab
of
mayo
off
her
finger,
she
yells,
“Michael!
Time
for
school!”
MICHAEL
sighs,
but
makes
no
move,
his
attention
drawn
to
the
same
Superman
cartoon
playing
on
a
large
screen
TV.
He
is
lying
on
the
couch,
almost
invisible
in
his
sweatshirt,
hood
up
around
his
head,
his
fingers
playing
with
a
stray
curl
of
hair.
____________
!!

5. IN-THEATRE SOFT DRINK AD
The movie theater seats fill up with a wide assortment of people (hitting every
!Coke demographic); the camera zooms in on the different stereotypical groups:
!the young couple in love, looking adoringly at each other, oblivious to everyone
!around them; a group of wisecracking high school jocks, pushing and shoving,
!making lots of noise; an older couple holding hands, the woman with crutches; a
!dad with his young daughter, a couple of nuns, a group of valley girls, etc. . . .
!
Some time has passed.
The theatre is dark; the movie is playing onscreen, in black & white - a boring
Dickensian scene of people sitting around a table, just talking – old fashioned,
monochromatic, spartan decaying set, starkly lit, floating dust motes, etc. – drab
and depressing. The actors are blasé and spiritless.
!!
Quick shots of the audience members we saw at the beginning: all of them are
now sitting slumped down in their chairs – totally bored, slack jawed, eyes glazed over,
weary and disinterested, seemingly not believing what they’ve gotten themselves into
. . . the old couple are asleep, the nuns are in shock, etc.
Cut to the girlfriend looking up as her boyfriend returns from the concession
stand and hands her a bottle of Coke.
!!
She takes a sip and suddenly, a wide sunny smile breaks out on her face.
Her boyfriend sits down and takes a sip of his Coke, and also smiles.
They then pass their Coke bottles to the person sitting next to them, who smiles,
and passes on the bottles to the next person, and so on down the rows . . .
Each seat is set aglow as that person takes a sip of their bottle, until the entire
section is ignited in multi-colored light.
!!
The audiences has now come alive, laughing and talking, sharing and enjoying
each other in a new environment of pandemonium and bedlam, totally ignoring
the movie onscreen.
!!
Cut back to the screen, where the same boring scene continues to play out.
The actors look at one another as if something is amiss.
One of them, now clearly annoyed at the noisy interruption looks out at the
audience, then directly at the camera; he is angry . . . he raps on the table loudly,
which gets the attention of the theatre audience.
!
Silence.
The boyfriend raps on the chair in front of him in answer.
The actor onscreen stands up and bangs his chair on the floor, making a louder
!noise.

6. The woman from the older couple takes her crutch and bangs IT on the floor to! match.
In the meantime, the other members of the audience begin to clap their hands / stamp
their feet in unison.
The actor now rolls up his sleeves as if he means business and wants to do
damage, then steps out of the screen to confront the theatre audience in person.
He stands menacingly in front of the audience.
!!
The little girl timidly approaches him and hands him a bottle of Coke.
!All noise stops as the entire audience watches, waiting for his reaction.
!
He smiles broadly, takes the little girl by the hand and walks her back to her seat
next to her dad (right in the center of the audience). She sits down and gestures
for him to sit down in the empty seat next to her.
!!
As he does so, extremely upbeat music begins to swell up and a fast-paced,
seated Zigfield Follies-style hand-leg routine ensues.
Each member of the audience includes their bottle of Coke in their moves (so that the
product is shown in almost every frame).
The music builds to a crescendo, and the seated dance climaxes (with
pyrotechnics); huge Coke banners unravel, falling from the ceiling behind the
audience to prominently display the Coke logo / slogan (TBD).
!!
The actor high fives excited, happy laughing audience members as he heads
down the rows, and steps back into the movie screen – the split second he
crosses through the “line”, his clothing changes from Dickensian to modern,
fashionable club wear. The movie scene is now in full gorgeous, exaggerated color!
!!
Everyone still sits around a table, but they’re all drinking bottles of Coke amidst a
sexy, ultra modern nightclub, full of imaginative set design, neon lights, LED
tables, very cool space age furniture, etc. Each actor is now dressed in similar current
chic and stylish garb.
!!
An updated electronic version of the music plays in the background.
The main actor takes his seat after high-fiving his fellow screen actors.
He looks straight into the camera, winks and holds up his bottle of Coke.
____________

7. Dark
Comedy
Treatment
Scorsese
style
Frankie
DeCatta
was
a
real
anomaly
in
his
family.
Either
that,
or
he
was
the
lone
normal
offspring
of
a
deviant,
unconventional
father
and
confused
but
doting
mother.
(The
A-­‐type
son
of
atypical
parents)
Only
child
to
the
last
remaining
Don
in
America,
Frankie
unfortunately
witnessed
firsthand
many
incidents
that
no
young
child
should
ever
have
to
encounter
–
not
without
permanent
psychological
damage.
His
father,
Don
Jules
DeCatta
was
responsible
for
much
murder
and
mayhem,
both
on
and
off
the
record,
but
he
had
one
pure,
shining
truth
in
his
dismal
life
–
he
brought
into
the
world,
and
raised
his
sole
son
and
heir,
Frankie.
As
difficult
as
it
was
to
blind
and
protect
young
Frankie
from
all
of
the
horrors
that
came
with
the
territory
of
the
Mafiosa,
Jules
desperately
tried
to
raise
his
son
uncorrupted,
and
hoped
that
young
Frankie
could
grow
up
with
at
least
some
integrity
and
innocence
–
an
upright
citizen
and
a
man
with
unflagging
moral
fiber
–
what
any
man
hopes
for
his
son.
The
film
starts
with
Frankie’s
VO
narration
of
growing
up,
as
still
photos
pan
across
the
screen:
the
usual
life
pictures
of
first
steps,
communion,
birthday
parties,
with
dad
doing
archery,
playing
soccer,
swimming
in
a
lake,
fishing,
making
pasta
w/
mom,
big
family
around
the
dinner
table,
mom
in
her
garden
sanctuary,
pruning
her
Azaleas,
dad
picking
tomatoes
off
the
vine
in
the
backyard,
etc.
.
.
.
“Other
dads
borrowed
lawn
mowers;
MY
dad
borrowed
chain
saws.
While
other
dads
were
using
their
weed
wackers,
MY
dad
was.
.
.
well.”

8. The
entire
neighborhood
would
turn
out
in
force
to
watch
us
kids
in
Little
League
–
relaxed
in
their
weekend
attire,
my
dad’s
friends
(associates,
as
he
called
them
and
as
he
was
ALWAYS
“working”)
would
show
up
looking
like
Silvio
from
The
Sopranos.
Wearing
their
shiny
sharkskin
suits,
they’d
sit
apart
from
the
other
parents,
talking
and
gesturing
in
a
tight
group,
betting
on
players’
stats
and
the
outcome
of
the
games.
When
my
dad
did
try
to
fit
in
one
time,
he
wore
black
knee
socks,
sandals
and
shorts
that
exposed
his
skinny
white
legs,
black
t-­‐shirt
and
enough
gold
chains
to
catch
the
sun
and
reflect
it
into
the
opposing
pitcher’s
eyes
.
.
.
accompanied
by
my
Uncle
Vito
in
a
t-­‐shirt
that
said
“My
parents
went
to
Sicily
and
all
they
brought
back
was
this
lousy
t-­‐
shirt.”
Embarrassing?
‘Ya
think?
Photos
pan
by
of
a
coach
arguing
a
play
with
the
umpire,
being
thrown
out,
then
my
dad
throwing
out
the
umpire
.
.
.
ice
cream
vendor
bicycle,
family
spread
out
on
picnic
blanket,
a
mom
pulling
sandwiches
out
of
a
Styrofoam
cooler
at
picnic
table,
a
complete
Expresso
machine.
Yah,
I
definitely
began
to
notice
the
“subtle”
differences.
Other
frames
deliver
the
dark,
almost
imperceptible
alternate
rapport
that
exists
between
father
and
son
–
few
and
far
between
sparse
hints
of
the
other
world
in
this
life
of
a
family:
Frankie
running
into
his
dad’s
office
with
a
report
card,
only
to
be
immediately
shunted
out
by
Jule’s
business
associates
“henchman”
(zoom
into
hurt
look
on
Frankie’s
face
as
his
dad’s
office
door
close
in
his
face
.
.
.);
Frankie
getting
a
snack
late
at
night,
hidden
in
the
shadows
watching
his
father
slam
the
receiver
down
on
the
phone
with
a
scowl
and
throwing
his
coffee
cup
against
the
wall
where
it
shatters
into
pieces
;
Scenes
of
Jules
reacting
to
bad
news
by
dumping
out
a
vase
of
fresh
flowers
that
Frankie’s
mother
has
happily
and
painstakingly
arranged
all
morning,
or
stomping
on
a
papier
mache
school
project
as
he
barges
out
of
the
house,
one
that
Frankie
has
stayed
up
all
night
working
on;

9. Frankie
shrinking
away
from
the
light-­‐hearted
cuff
to
the
shoulder
from
one
of
his
dad’s
business
cronies,
as
they
all
laugh
(menacingly
in
Frankie’s
eyes)
and
good-­‐naturedly
make
fun
of
Frankie’s
small
stature
in
size
(in
Italian
which
Frankie
doesn’t
understand,
with
subtitles
for
the
audience’s
benefit).
Here,
Jules
will
defend
his
son,
by
suddenly
threatening
the
guy,
grabbing
him
by
the
scruff
of
the
neck
and
throwing
him
up
against
the
wall.
As
much
as
he’d
like
to
hide
it
and
keep
it
completely
separate
from
his
“normal”
family
life,
Jules
does
have
a
dark
side
that
he
inadvertently,
and
unknowingly,
shows
to
his
son,
time
and
time
again
.
.
.
this
alternate
ego
ticks
at
the
center
of
the
ongoing
conflict
like
a
time
bomb,
the
one
within
the
family
members,
and
the
one
inside
Jules
himself,
and
no
one,
especially
the
audience,
knows
when
all
of
the
drama
and
opposing
emotions
between
the
main
characters
will
blow
up
–
and
who
will
ultimately
pay
the
price
and
get
hurt
the
most.
It
makes
for
a
harrowing
ride,
as
it
can
always
go
either
way,
and
the
audience
still
feels
for
Jules
and
wants
him
to
succeed
in
furthering
the
greatest
thing
he
has
going
in
his
life
–
his
relationship
with
his
son
.
.
.
and
then
.
.
.
Then,
Frankie’s
mother
dies,
and
he
feels
it
was
him
that
killed
her.
(Some
accident
occurs
for
which
Frankie
feels
wholly
responsible;
“if
only
I’d
been
there
in
time”
–
in
fact,
there
was
no
way
he
could
have
changed
anything,
but
he
still
feels
deep
guilt
and
shame
over
the
circumstances
of
her
death.
His
father
has
to
deal
with
this
as
well
–
in
prison,
without
knowing
all
of
the
facts
surrounding
his
wife’s
death,
he
has
only
Frankie
to
blame,
or
believe.
An
inner
struggle
ensues,
as
he
holds
this
against
Frankie
while
at
the
same
time
wanting
desperately
to
steer
his
son
towards
the
right
path,
make
sure
he
doesn’t
make
the
same
bad
choices;
to
love
him
and
be
accepted
by
him,
as
Frankie
is
all
he
has
for
salvation
in
his
own
miserable
life).

10. Frankie
starts
his
story
at
his
present
age
of
19.
He
is
sophisticated,
creative,
and
awkwardly
handsome.
Frankie
is
a
brooding
introvert
who
conceals
his
deep
depth
and
intelligence
from
the
world.
He
is
a
misunderstood
teen
who
can
show
pure
emotion
with
just
one
quick
glance,
and
a
burning
in
the
pupils
of
his
eyes;
a
present
day
Michael
Corleone
.
.
.
an
angry
James
Dean
as
Jim
Stark
from
Rebel
Without
a
Cause.
There
are
two
things
that
can
be
considered
legitimate
anchors
that
keep
Frankie
going,
and
partially
hopeful;
they
are
his
childhood
sweetheart
Kim,
and
his
father’s
virtuous
intentions.
Kim
was
the
love
of
young
Frankie’s
life,
and
she
unfortunately
broke
his
heart
by
cutting
the
romance
short,
yet
still
wants
to
stay
in
contact,
and
on
friendly
terms.
His
father
rests
in
prison
awaiting
parole.
Anything
and
everything
can
be
an
easy
escape
for
Frankie,
or
set
him
off
in
a
rage;
he
constantly
switches
moods,
back
and
forth
between
reality
and
optimism,
and
the
darker
façade
that
has
stung
him
periodically
while
shaping
his
childhood.
Encounters
as
a
child
are
memories
of
a
tragic,
ominous
world.
His
father’s
words
of
wisdom,
and
the
gut
pull
to
win
the
heart
of
Kim
back
keep
the
19-­‐year-­‐old
Frankie
optimistic
and
stable.
Even
though
Frankie
is
medically
normal,
his
personality
exhibits
symptoms
of
hypochondria,
ADD
and
bipolar
behavior
that
result
in
a
very
precarious
immediate
future
for
Frankie
as
he
struggles
to
deal
with
these
polarizing
effects
on
his
life.
With
motivation
to
win
approval
from
his
two
loves,
Kim
and
his
father,
there
is
much
hope
for
Frankie
to
be
an
exception
to
the
Noir
world,
and
become
a
man
who
can
finally
break
free
of
tragedy.

11. Title
Card
Fathers
are
the
powers
that
be,
and
with
their
power
and
might
must
shelter,
guard,
and
hold
and
teach
and
love...
All
men
with
sons
must
learn
to
do
these
things...
Too
soon,
too
soon,
a
small
son
grows
and
leaves
his
father's
side
to
test
his
manhood's
wings.
Before
being
imprisoned,
Jules
was
bounded
to
his
NY
urban
estate,
completely
tethered
to
his
life
as
Don.
He
makes
a
decision
to
change
the
setting
for
his
son,
hoping
to
create
a
new
life
for
him.
Jules
sends
Frankie
to
a
California
University
(UC
school).
Perhaps
the
different
lifestyle
can
destroy
the
awful
childhood
memories,
so
Frankie
can
leave
them
behind
in
NY.
However,
as
Kim’s
connection
further
deteriorates,
Frankie
experiences
confrontations
with
many
local
California
bred
kids
(classic
case
of
assimilation
from
outsiders).
Frankie
begins
his
descent
in
a
downward
spiral
–
the
soft-­‐spoken,
stand
up
Italian
kid
has
an
interior
breakdown.
His
heart
and
gut
battle
for
control
of
his
mind,
and
split
him
down
the
middle.
Now,
a
powerful,
vengeful
and
excessive
Italian
brute
takes
over.
The
more
uncertain
his
relationship
with
Kim
becomes,
coupled
with
increasingly
less
contact
with
his
imprisoned
father,
begin
to
make
rehabilitation
seem
impossible.
The
demons
from
his
childhood
experiences
in
NY
take
control.
After
further
and
further
confrontations
arise
due
to
his
father’s
name
and
his
Italian
roots,
a
slow
transition
takes
place
as
Frankie,
the
sincere,
serene
boy
becomes
a
selfish,
misogynistic
bully.
Frankie
becomes
dangerous.
It
is
frightful
and
disturbing
to
watch,
as
the
Frankie
we
once
knew
and
pitied
turns
into
an
introverted
monster.

12. As
a
result,
the
young
Don
takes
all
of
the
repressed
feelings
and
emotions
he
was
confronted
with
as
a
child,
and
proceeds
to
twist
his
father’s
inspirational
advice.
He
creates
a
newfound
perception
and
knowledge,
resulting
in
actions
with
an
immoral
set
of
rules,
and
no
comprehension
of
right
and
wrong.
His
modified
mind
pushes
Frankie
to
start
his
own
syndicate
organization,
a
small
replication
of
his
father’s
dynasty,
one
that
will
create
havoc
and
misdemeanors
around
the
college
campus.
His
gang
is
organized
Italian,
yet
collaborates
with
the
Blacks
and
Hispanics
from
the
neighboring
hoods
around
the
school.
An
Italian
Don
with
Black/Hispanic
muscle,
it’s
almost
a
parody.
As
long
as
the
connections
with
Kim
and
his
father
remain
dim,
the
contorted
advice
from
his
father
will
continue
to
affect
his
degenerate
behavior,
getting
further
in
intensity
and
danger,
perhaps
permanently.
Even
more
telling
is
the
palpable
sense
of
unease
that
seethes
just
under
the
surface,
as
a
menacing
undercurrent
to
the
action
onscreen
-­‐
those
subtle
signs
of
conflict
experienced
by
the
characters
earlier,
come
back
into
play
now,
deftly
and
deceptively
leading
the
audience
in
unforeseen
directions
.
.
.
Frankie
continues
to
act
with
the
twisted
notion
that
his
actions
will
eventually
make
his
father
proud,
as
he
continues
to
organize
and
grow
a
band
of
misfit,
rejects
and
local
gang
members
from
the
surrounding
hood
(Bloods
or
Crypts).
An
exaggerated
caricature
of
the
notorious
Italian
mafia
organization
combined
with
a
lampooned
South
Central
disorganization
in
crime
can
be
made.
Boyz
in
the
Hood
and
Don’t
be
a
Menace
meet
Don
Vito
and
the
Corleones.
Wise
cracks
about
the
difference
in
crimes
and
iconography
between
the
two
syndicates
can
be
made
(Some
of
the
Muscle
upgrade
their
thuggish
look
as
Frankie
buys
them
some
nice
Italian
suits
-­‐
Cuba
Gooding
Jr.
looking
like
James
Cagney).

13. This
can
be
considered
as
some
dark
humor
/
comic
relief
to
loosen
up
the
seriousness
of
the
film.
With
every
mob
organization
there
is
a
business
to
run,
and
with
college
campuses,
it’s
bicycles,
then
drugs.
Frankie’s
syndicate
takes
over
the
local
bike
business
action.
Their
crew
steals
and
resells
bikes
for
substantial
profit.
Soon,
Frankie
is
able
to
begin
squeezing
the
local
bike
shop
and
repair
stores.
Now
his
name
becomes
almost
mythic,
and
notorious
around
campus,
especially
for
the
top-­‐grade
drugs
he
has
access
to.
His
infamous
title
is
almost
glorified,
like
that
of
a
respected
vigilante,
and
he
enjoys
the
misguided,
unjustified
obeisance.
The
deeper
he
gets,
the
more
subtly
hidden
a
role
he
must
play.
Frankie’s
business
continues
to
grow
as
he
squeezes
other
organizations:
the
Fraternities,
the
Sororities
and
sport
teams.
They
all
pay
their
dues,
and
their
bikes
aren’t
touched.
The
corrupt
conspiracy
of
a
Mafiosa
on
Campus
gets
the
attention
of
the
University
public
safety
department
and
eventually,
police
from
the
surrounding
neighborhood
begin
to
take
a
closer
look.
The
University
makes
it
a
priority
to
infiltrate
Frankie’s
organization.
With
mob
business
(frats/bike
shops
paying
dues,
drugs
all
over
the
place)
leaks
are
to
be
expected,
and
with
leaks
come
an
escalation
of
violence
and
the
excessive
use
of
power.
Frankie
becomes
so
deeply
entwined
in
crime,
he
can’t
even
believe
the
horror
he
himself
is
causing.
Inside
he
wants
to
stop,
but
his
mind
disallows
it.
Tragedy
is
just
around
the
corner,
even
more
ill-­‐timed
with
his
father
so
close
to
parole,
and
his
ex
girlfriend
beginning
to
warm
to
him
as
she
realizes
her
loss
across
the
their
distance
(both
romantically,
and
geographically
as
they
begin
to
slowly
rekindle
their
love
affair
from
opposite
coasts).

14. It
is
too
late.
Frankie’s
mob
eventually
gets
entangled
with
other
gangs
in
the
same
businesses
–
he
begins
to
lose
control
of
the
situation.
Unlike
Frankie,
who
only
roughs
up,
beats
up
and
destroys
college
student’s
careers,
these
gangs
kill.
As
things
really
begin
to
steadily
go
downhill
for
Frankie,
and
get
increasingly
more
dangerous,
he
unknowingly
gets
in
too
deep
with
someone
who
his
father
once
crossed
(the
son
is
becoming
his
father).
In
the
lead
up
to
the
film’s
climax,
Frankie’s
right-­‐hand
man
and
close
friend
is
shot
dead,
and
that’s
all
it
takes
for
Frankie
to
snap
out
of
his
deceitful
coma.
Frankie,
only
recently
a
man
on
a
mission
again
becomes
the
scared
little
boy
in
desperate
need
of
his
father.
When
the
news
becomes
national,
his
father
gets
word
of
it,
just
days
before
his
parole.
Even
though
the
last
Don
is
stuck
in
prison,
he
makes
some
calls
and
gets
some
of
the
old
boys
to
get
the
fuck
out
to
LA
and
provide
salvage
for
his
only
son.
BUT,
this
is
what
the
audience
is
expecting,
that
the
dad
saves
the
day
and
his
son,
they
reunite,
and
live
happily
ever
after
(Frankie
marrying
Kim,
etc.)
.
.
.
In
LA,
there
is
a
small
underground
war
between
the
real
NY
Italians
and
the
ghetto-­‐surrounding
gangs.

15.
The
climax:
The
scene
is
a
grimy,
dilapidated
LA
garage
interior
(like
Reservoir
Dogs).
The
final
confrontation
between
Jule’s
"henchmen",
Frankie
and
the
lead
villain
(character
to
be
developed)
backed
by
his
gang
.
.
.
-­‐
Cut
back
to
Jules
pacing
his
cell
-­‐
-­‐
Cut
back
to
LA
–
The
discussion
/
threats
/
go
back
and
forth
(perhaps
some
‘Yo
Mama
jokes
to
offset
the
violence
/
lighten
the
mood
/
maintain
the
black
humor
and
comic
relief
running
through
the
otherwise
dark
film).
-­‐
Cut
back
to
JULES
LOOKING
AT
HIS
WATCH
–
-­‐
Cut
back
to
LA
–
Frankie
is
acting
cocky
because
of
his
dad's
cronies’
protection
surrounding
him;
he
starts
to
approach
his
adversary
-­‐
a
gun
is
drawn,
but
the
audience
doesn’t
know
whose
hand
and
gun
it
is
(Frankie’s?
One
of
his
dad’s
mobsters?
A
gang
member?)
The
shooter
suddenly
turns
and
puts
a
bullet
right
into
Frankie's
forehead;
the
small
hole
begins
to
stream
blood
above
the
still-­‐open,
shocked
eyes
of
Frankie.
-­‐
Cut
back
to
Jules
repeatedly
hitting
his
head
against
HIS
cell
wall,
drawing
blood
as
well
-­‐

16. V.O.
"It
doesn't
matter
who
my
father
was;
it
matters
who
I
remember
he
was.
"
END
CREDITS.
Jules
ends
up
having
to
make
the
"ultimate"
choice
while
in
prison
-­‐
either
saving
his
son,
or
saving
himself,
as
he
knows
he
is
about
to
be
set
free.
Jules
chooses
to
pay
off
his
own
debts,
to
make
good
and
save
his
OWN
life,
rather
than
Frankie’s.
As
much
as
Frankie
looked
up
to
his
old
man,
and
aspired
to
be
just
like
him,
he
ends
up
dying
for
it.
Not
such
a
great
man
/
role
model
after
all
.
.
.
the
son's
rise
becomes
the
father's
ultimate
failure
-­‐
and
adds
a
kick-­‐
ass
twist
at
the
end
of
the
movie.
Jules'
men
end
up
taking
out
Frankie!!!
The
audience
will
still
feel
deeply
for
Frankie
so
HE
becomes
a
tragic
figure,
while
his
father
has
to
live
with
the
undeniable
fact
that
he
killed
his
only
son.
Kim
(secondary
character)
drifts
away
as
well
-­‐
the
bittersweet
romance
ended
for
good.
There
are
a
few
scenes
showing
her
writing
Frankie
(V.O.
of
her
as
she
writes,
explaining
that
while
she
hates
his
father
and
will
always
consider
him
a
criminal,
no
matter
how
much
love
he
professed
for
his
son,
she
strangely
feels
a
grudging
respect
for
Frankie
as
he
rises
through
the
ranks
out
in
LA,
finally
making
something
of
himself
–
even
if
it
IS
crime-­‐driven,
and
she
plans
to
make
amends
with
Jules
for
Frankie’s
sake)

17.
A
late-­‐night
telephone
call
between
the
two
of
them,
discussing
their
differences
/
coming
to
some
terms
.
.
.
Frankie
fondly
tracing
the
lines
of
Kim’s
face
in
a
photograph
of
her
he
keeps
in
his
wallet
.
.
.
Kim
reading
local
LA
newspaper
accounts
of
Frankie’s
exploits,
keeping
track
of
his
life
(perhaps
cutting
out
clippings
about
him)
.
.
.
watching
TV
(split
screen
or
cutting
from
one
to
the
other)
–
Kim
watching
a
newscast
about
Frankie,
or
about
Jule’s
upcoming
parole
and
release
from
prison
/
Frankie
watching
a
television
rerun
of
Good
Fellas
.
.
.
perhaps
a
scene
of
Kim
gathering
up
the
nerve
to
finally
visit
Jules
while
he’s
still
in
prison,
making
amends
with
him
through
the
glass
partition
(for
Frankie’s
sake,
and
hers,
as
they
plan
to
get
back
together).
Or
spitting
against
the
glass.
Note:
Just
a
skeleton
____________

18. Shooters'
Gallery
INT.
WATCHTOWER
-­‐
DAY
MICHAEL
BUICK
(13)
gazes
through
his
“binoculars”;
hands
steady,
tracking
the
current
object
of
his
affections.
NARRATOR
There
was
a
time
when
he
would
have
approached
her
in
school,
right
after
their
English
class,
up
close
and
personal.
But
now,
he
could
only
contemplate
her
from
afar,
way
atop
his
favorite
place
to
hang
out.
Michael
sits
atop
the
watchtower,
the
cornerstone
of
his
family's
palatial
estate
that
served
as
his
observatory,
the
only
spot
he
felt
truly
comfortable,
where
he
could
command
a
panoramic
view
of
his
own
immediate
world.
NARRATOR
(CONT’D)
Of
course,
he
thought,
his
old
man
wouldn't
even
call
them
binoculars,
as
that
was
too
“modern”
a
term
for
his
old
man.
MICHAEL
(mockingly)
No
no,
my
dear
boy,
those
are
your
great
granddad's
field
glasses
you
have
there.
They
were
a
very
important
factor,
instrumental
indeed,
in
leading
us
to
victory
at
The
Battle
of
Rich
Mountain
back
in
1861,
don't
you
know.
(back
to
self)__
Enunciating
every
fucking
word
with
his
proper
New
England
damn
inflection.
Michael
pulls
his
eye
away
briefly
to
readjust
his
“scope”
and
dips
down
to
reengage
with
her.
MICHAEL
(CONT’D)
(mockingly)
Aim
high
my
boy,
aim
high
and
the
world
will
be
yours!

19. (back
to
self)
Ya,
maybe
YOUR
world,
not
mine!
Mister
Asshole
Industrialist,
with
your
perfect
prim
and
proper
wife.
I’m
up
on
my
own
fucking
Rich
Mountain,
don’t
YOU
know?!
INT.
BUICK
ESTATE
-­‐
MORNING
The
next
morning,
Michael
was
up
early
as
usual.
He
quietly
made
his
way
past
his
parent's
bedroom,
pausing
to
listen
to
the
both
of
them
snoring
away.
Then
he
remembered
that
they
were
gone
again,
having
left
on
yet
another
foray
to
wherever
they
happened
to
visit
every
week.
NARRATOR
Michael
was
born
with
the
proverbial
silver
spoon
in
his
mouth;
some
people
even
thought
it
might
be
platinum.
Over
time
though,
as
Michael
grew
older
and
lonelier,
that
spoon
began
to
taste
like
gunmetal.
Their
son
was
the
classic
“chip
off
the
old
block”.
INT.
BUICK
ESTATE
KITCHEN
-­‐
MOMENTS
LATER
At
this
hour,
only
the
cook
was
up.
ISAAC
(42)
was
kneading
the
dough
for
that
day's
fresh
bread.
NARRATOR
Isaac
weighed
at
least
350
lbs.
He
knew
how
much
time
Michael
spent
in
the
watchtower.
He
also
under-­‐
stood
why
the
boy
sought
the
solitude
afforded
up
there.
He
looked
up
as
Michael
entered
his
spacious
domain.
Still
had
the
staff
to
feed,
after
all.
As
well
as
the
young
heir.

20. ISAAC
Ah,
if
it
isn't
the
Master
of
the
House.
Good
morning
young
man!
Shall
I
bring
your
breakfast
up
to
your
steeple
in
the
sky
this
fine
day?
(wink)
MICHAEL
Not
today
Isaac.
I
fear
it
might
be
a
trifle,
too
windy
up
there
for
you.
Besides,
you
have
your
morning
work
to
do.
What
have
you
planned
for
their
menu
this
morning?
Arsenic
omelets
with
toxic
toast?
ISAAC
Sure...and
camphor
cupcakes
for
a
sweet
dessert!
Michael
smiles,
the
old
cook
his
favorite
person
in
the
world.
NARRATOR
It
was
a
standing
joke
between
them
that
if
Isaac
ever
DID
climb
to
the
top
with
Michael,
the
tower
would
topple
immediately
over.
Michael
liked
to
think
that
it
would
crash
right
onto
his
parents'
bedroom,
thus
doing
away
with
the
both
of
them
in
one
foul
swoop.
ISAAC
Well
here,
take
some
biscuits
to
eat
up
there,
and
I
brewed
some
nice
hot
tea.
MICHAEL
Thanks
Isaac.
See
you
later.
Isaac
fondly
but
sadly
shakes
his
head,
as
he
watches
Michael
exit
the
room.

21. INT.
BUICK
ESTATE
STUDY
-­‐
MOMENTS
LATER
The
kitchen
happened
to
be
way
over
in
the
east
wing
of
the
mansion,
far
away
from
the
bedrooms,
so
Michael
knew
he
was
safe
to
enter
his
father's
study
to
get
his
“field
glasses”.
He
made
his
way
past
the
paintings
of
his
ancestors,
thinking
all
the
while
of
slashing
each
of
their
throats,
ripping
the
canvases
beyond
redemption.
Of
course
without
his
forbears,
he
himself
wouldn't
exist;
but
in
his
current
state
of
mind,
maybe
that
wouldn't
be
such
a
bad
thing
He
approached
his
father's
gun
cabinet,
and
pulled
out
his
favorite
set
of
“binoculars”,
making
sure
that
the
telescope
was
solidly
affixed.
EXT.
BUICK
ESTATE
-­‐
MOMENTS
LATER
Soundlessly
closing
the
massive
oak
door
behind
him,
Michael
swiftly
hiked
across
the
great
lawn
towards
his
watchtower,
his
only
company
a
few
black
crows
circling
above
him
through
the
early
morning
mist.
NARRATOR
He
knew
that
he
had
to
get
there
early
enough
to
see
Ellen,
that
was
her
name,
Ellen.
It
was
his
one
chance
on
the
weekends
to
see
her
from
atop
his
aerie
before
she
stepped
inside
to
work
for
the
day.
Michael
arrives
at
the
base
of
the
tower,
“binoculars”
fasted
over
his
shoulder.
NARRATOR
(CONT’D)
By
now,
he
knew
exactly
where
to
look,
and
when,
to
seek
out
those
he
had
built
up
the
biggest
disdain
for.

22. Yes,
the
ones
who
exhibited
the
same
airs
of
goddam
superiority
his
own
father
did,
and
his
mother,
meekly
adoringly
following
his
example.
As
he
easily
climbed
up
the
tower
and
settled
himself
in
his
customary
position,
he
placed
the
“binoculars”
on
the
stone
ledge,
aimed
it
and
focused
the
scope.
MICHAEL
(whispering)
Ah,
there
she
is,
right
on
time.
NARRATOR
What
a
beautiful
girl
she
was.
As
he
trailed
her
path,
he
noticed
that
some
guy
was
shadowing
Ellen.
Michael
zoomed
in
and
recognized
a
boy
that
went
to
his
school.
He
didn't
know
him
well
at
all,
given
that
he
dressed
practically
in
rags
and
wasn't
very
bright,
but
rumor
had
it
that
he
lived
way
outside
of
town
in
some
old
shack,
and
that
he
was
also
an
only
child.
MICHAEL
What
the
fuck
is
HE
doing
following
my
girl?
Michael
zooms
in
ever
closer
until
the
guy's
head
is
right
in
the
middle
of
the
bulls-­‐eye,
and
slowly
pulls
on
the
trigger.
MICHAEL
(CONT’D)
Bang.
You’re
dead.
INT.
BECKLEY
SCHOOL
HOUSE
-­‐
MORNING
Monday
morning
at
school
was
business
as
usual
for
Michael.

23. He
avoided
the
very
kids
that
he
had
grown
up
with,
because
he
had
gradually
grown
apart
from
them
as
his
confidence
eroded.
They
now
laughed
behind
his
back
as
he
made
his
way
towards
his
class.
He
got
about
halfway
down
the
hallway
when
a
couple
of
his
old
friends
teamed
up
on
him.
As
one
knelt
on
the
ground
behind
Michael;
the
other
shoved
him,
hard.
Michael
hit
the
ground
with
a
grunt,
his
books
flying
all
over
the
place.
Already
having
learnt
that
it
was
best
to
just
ignore
the
two
assholes
as
they
ambled
off
laughing
hysterically,
Michael,
crestfallen,
started
to
pick
up
his
books.
As
he
stood
up,
a
large
shadow
completely
blocked
out
the
weak
shaft
of
sunlight
filtering
through
the
only
window
in
the
long
corridor.
NARRATOR
The
BOY
was
really
HUGE
up
close.
A
veritable
BOHEMOTH,
from
his
steel-­‐toed
boots
up!
The
guy
also
looked
incredulous
and
scornful
at
the
same
time.
BOY
Man
o
man,
you
are
one
sorry
ass
little
wimp,
ya
know
that?
Why'd
you
let
those
guys
get
away
with
that
shit?
MICHAEL
Basically
because
I
don’t
GIVE
a
shit,
that’s
why!
Michael
noticed
that
besides
a
big
gut,
the
guy
was
sporting
a
black
eye
the
size
of
a
massive
port
wine
stain.
MICHAEL
(CONT’D)
You
wouldn't
know
how
to
deal
with
them
anyway!
Looks
like
you
lost
your
last
brawl
big
time!
What's
with
the
shiner?

24. BOY
I
um
...
I
got
in
a
fight
with
a
Chevy!
It's
none
of
your
fuckin'
business
anyway.
I
still
woulda
beat
the
crap
out
of
those
two
guys
if
they
tried
that
stunt
on
me.
MICHAEL
Yah
well,
you
deal
with
your
life
your
way,
and
I'll
deal
with
mine!
Michael
started
to
turn
away
and
walk
off
to
class,
but
then
paused
as
if
making
up
his
mind.
He
turned
around
again
and
looked
up
into
the
other
guy's
face,
still
unsure
whether
to
exhibit
friendliness
to
the
big
lug.
At
that
point,
the
other
guy
grinned.
With
a
matching
grin,
Michael
extended
his
hand,
which
was
swallowed
up
in
the
other's
gigantic
mitt.
MICHAEL
(CONT’D)
Michael
Buick.
BOY
Danny
Hannigan.
What’ya
say
we
get
the
hell
outta
this
joint?
The
two
of
them
started
to
amble
off,
the
physical
difference
between
them
instantly
apparent
to
any
passersby.
EXT.
BUICK
ESTATE
-­‐
AFTERNOON
Michael
leads
Danny
through
the
gates
to
his
mansion
estate,
Michael
visibly
embarrassed
as
Danny
looks
around
in
wonder.
The
two
make
there
to
base
of
the
watchtower.
DANNY
Are
you
sure
this
thing
is
strong
enough
to
hold
both
of
us?

25. MICHAEL
Actually,
I
DON'T
know.
I
never
brought
anyone
else
up
with
me
before.
EXT.
WATCHTOWER
-­‐
MOMENTS
LATER
Danny
does
a
slow
360
DANNY
Are
you
fucking
kiddin'
me?!
You
could
fit
everyone
in
a
prison,
PLUS
a
hundred
chain
gangs
in
this
joint,
with
room
to
spare!
I
live
in
a
shitty
one-­‐room
shack!
MICHAEL
I
thought
you
said
that
you
lived
with
your
dad?
DANNY
I
do,
but
he's
hardly
even
home...and
when
he
IS
home,
he's
either
falling
down
drunk
as
a
skunk,
or
itching
for
a
scrap.
MICHAEL
You
mean
your
own
father
picks
fights
with
you?
Is
that
where
you
received
your
black
eye?
DANNY
Yah,
this
and
a
few
other
cuts
and
scrapes.
But
I
tell
you,
I
get
in
one
good
punch,
inflict
just
a
little
pain
on
his
sorry
ass,
and
I'm
good
to
go!
Michael
takes
a
few
seconds
to
reply,
as
he
gazes
forlornly
out
into
the
distance.

26. MICHAEL
I
sure
wish
I
had
the
backbone
to
challenge
my
father
to
a
duel.
He
surely
deserves
a
beating.
DANNY
What
are
you
talkin'
about?
Look
where
you
live!
What
could
your
old
man
have
done
to
you
to
deserve
a
beating.
MICHAEL
It's
just
a
big
empty
space
.
.
.
full
of
things
that
mean
the
world
to
my
parents,
but
absolutely
nothing
to
me.
Antiques
and
artifacts
and
photographs
from
THEIR
world,
mementos
of
the
many
vacations
they've
gone
on,
leaving
me
all
alone
yet
again
and
again!
DANNY
Hey,
I
bet
a
lotta
that
shit
is
worth
big
money,
huh?!
MICHAEL
Ah,
I
guess
I
never
really
thought
about
it.
It
seems
Danny
has
hit
upon
an
uncomfortable
nerve.
MICHAEL
(CONT’D)
Hey,
would
you
like
to
get
something
to
eat?
DANNY
Sure
I’m
starvin’.
Danny,
thinking
that
he'd
get
a
chance
to
case
the
joint
and
inspect
the
goods
on
offer.
INT.
BUICK
ESTATE
STUDY
-­‐
MOMENTS
LATER

27. The
boys
are
sitting
in
Michael's
father’s
richly
furnished
study.
Description
banker's
lights,
soft
leather
chairs,
lots
of
antiques.
Empty
plates
sit
on
his
dad's
massive
desk,
as
Daniel
walks
around
the
room
picking
up
things,
then
putting
them
back
as
his
attention
is
drawn
to
something
else.
Then,
he
notices
the
gun
cabinet.
DANNY
(mumbling)
Now
we're
talkin’...
Danny
has
a
real
gleam
in
his
eye.
He
makes
to
open
the
cabinet,
but
it
is
locked.
DANNY
(CONT’D)
Michael,
'ya
got
a
key
for
this
thing?
Michael,
distractedly
going
through
some
papers
on
his
father's
desk
looks
up.
MICHAEL
Huh?
Sure.
But
you
better
let
me
do
it.
My
parents
give
me
pretty
much
free
reign
around
here,
but
it
is
not
unusual
for
my
father
to
notice
when
things
are
amiss.
He
walks
over
to
the
cabinet,
shifting
a
small
jade
sculpture
that
Danny
had
held
up
back
into
it's
proper
position,
then
pulls
a
small
key
chain
from
his
pocket.
Danny
steps
aside
to
give
him
room,
and
Michael
unlocks
the
cabinet,
swinging
the
glass
door
open.
Danny
immediately
rushes
forward
to
grab
the
first
weapon
he
puts
his
hands
on,
but
Michael
puts
a
hand
on
his
arm.

28. MICHAEL
(CONT’D)
Easy
Danny...Here,
let
me
show
you
my
favorite
set
of
“binoculars”.
He
slowly
eases
a
rifle
out
of
its
niche,
stroking
it
reverently
for
a
second
before
handing
it
to
Danny.
MICHAEL
(CONT’D)
Be
careful
with
it.
Danny
looks
at
Michael
with
utter
confusion
and
incredulousness.
DANNY
Are
you
fucking
crazy
Michael?
This
ain't
no
binoculars!
It's
a
gun!
MICHAEL
Well,
I
only
utilize
it
for
the
telescopic
scope
on
the
side,
just
like
binoculars.
Danny
grabs
the
rifle
out
of
Michael's
hands
and
makes
like
he's
taking
aim,
pointing
at
objects
all
around
the
room.
DANNY
(shouting)
BANG!
BANG!
BANG!
Michael
looks
startled.
Danny
then
turns
full
around
and
points
the
rifle
directly
at
Michaels
face.
DANNY
(CONT’D)
(softly)
Bang.
MICHAEL
There
aren't
any
bullets
in
it,
so
back
off
Danny.

29. Michael
grabs
back
the
rifle.
As
the
two
boys
escape
the
study,
Danny
slips
something
into
his
pocket.
A
jewel-­‐encrusted
ceremonial
dagger,
one
of
many
laying
on
Michael’s
father’s
desk.
Isaac
sees
him
slip
it
into
his
pocket.
Isaac
enters
the
room
to
clear
the
boys'
plates,
but
he
says
nothing,
locking
away
the
information
for
later
use.
INT.
DANNY’S
HOME
-­‐
NIGHT
Danny
sits
on
an
old
crate,
slowly
fondling
the
dagger.
His
mind
begins
to
wander.
CUT
TO:
INT.
DANNY’S
HOME
-­‐
PAST
Danny
sits
on
the
crate
with
the
dagger,
witnessing
his
memories
unfold.
NARRA
TOR
My
only
“friends”
were
the
other
unkempt
drunks
my
father
hung
out
with,
passing
around
a
cruddy
bottle
of
moonshine.
Danny
watches
himself
being
forced
to
take
swigs.
NARRATOR
(CONT’D)
Other
“friends”
were
the
ugly
whores
my
father
managed
to
find
in
some
places.
Danny
watches
himself
outside
his
father’s
room
in
a
dingy
hallway,
his
knees
are
drawn
up
to
his
chest
as
he
tries
to
ignore
the
obnoxious
sounds
emanating
from
inside
the
room.

30. The
women
would
invariably
look
down
at
him
on
the
way
out,
smiling
sympathetically
and
patting
him
on
the
head,
as
she
left
him
to
wait
for
his
father
to
sleep
it
off
on
the
blotchy,
disheveled
bed.
MAN’S
VOICE
(O.S.)
What
the
hell
you
got
there
boy?!
INT.
DANNY’S
HOME
–
NIGHT
CUT
TO:
Danny
is
startled
out
of
his
reverie.
His
FATHER
bellows
at
him.
DANNY’S
FATHER
Gimme
that!
Danny
jumps
up
and
answers
meekly.
DANNY
Hey
dad,
I
was
just
waitin'
for
you
to
git
home
so's
I
could
show
this
to
you.
He
hands
the
dagger
to
his
dad,
who
immediately
makes
like
he's
going
to
slice
up
his
son.
Danny
reflexively
throws
up
his
arm
and
gets
a
bad
gash
for
his
effort.
He
wipes
away
the
blood.
DANNY
(CONT’D)
And
I
know
where
to
get
a
hell
of
a
lot
more
shit,
just
as
hot
and
expensive.
His
father,
less
belligerent
lends
out
an
ear.
EXT.
WATCHTOWER
-­‐
AFTERNOON

31. Michael
and
Danny
climb
back
up
to
the
top
of
the
watchtower.
Michael
unstraps
the
rifle.
Danny
is
far
more
subdued
then
he
was
a
day
earlier
and
continuously
glances
at
the
entrance
gate.
Michael
hands
Danny
the
rifle
and
Danny
focuses
the
scope,
tracking
the
township
denizens
as
they
scurry
like
ants.
MICHAEL
By
the
way,
this
is
where
I
saw
you
from
the
other
day,
when
you
were
pursuing
Ellen.
Why
were
you
following
her?
DANNY
How
do
you
know
Ellen?
MICHAEL
Ellen
is
the
only
classmate
that
still
smiles
at
me.
Michael
smiles
as
he
treasures
the
thought
of
her.
MICHAEL
(CONT’D)
Used
to
be,
we
would
share
interests
in
school...discuss
the
books
that
we
had
both
read.
We
even
sat
together
several
times
for
lunch!
DANNY
Wow...For
a
little
man,
you
sure
got
closer
to
first
base
with
Ellen
than
I
ever
did!
Did
you
ever
kiss
her?
MICHAEL
Are
you
crazy,
you
big
idiot?
I
would
never
have
had
the
courage
to
even
TRY
something
like
that!
(beat)
What
about
you?
Danny
lowers
the
rifle.

32. DANNY
Honestly?
I
never
spoke
a
word
to
her.
She
just
looks
down
on
me
anyway;
you
know...I
don’t
blame
her.
Michael
retorts.
MICHAEL
Not
Ellen!
She’s
way
too
nice
to
look
down
on
ANYONE!
DANNY
I
sure
do
think
she’s
the
prettiest
girl
in
town,
though.
They
both
sit
there,
deep
in
their
own
thoughts.
Danny
glances
again
at
the
gates.
As
Michael
looks
away.
Danny
rummages
through
his
pocket
and
grasps
a
single
bullet.
With
Michael
still
entranced,
Danny
surreptitiously
inserts
the
bullet.
Unbeknownst
to
Danny
though,
Isaac
has
followed
the
boys
outside
this
time.
Danny
places
the
rifle
in
Michael’s
hands.
Michael
takes
his
turn
to
voyeur.
Suddenly,
Danny
spots
his
father
sneak
onto
the
premises.
Danny’s
eyes
widen.
DANNY
(CONT’D)
Intruder!
Shoot
him
Michael!
Michael,
startled,
fumbles
the
rifle
and
then
takes
aim.
DANNY
(CONT’D)
SHOOT
HIM!

33. As
Michael
pulls
the
trigger,
the
entire
watchtower
lurches
like
an
earthquake
erupts
immediately
below
them.
As
the
camera
shows
Danny’s
father
running
for
his
life
out
of
the
gates,
it
slowly
pans
back
to
the
base
of
the
tower,
where
Isaac
has
used
his
great
bulk
to
push
the
tower
at
the
very
moment
the
shot
rings
out.
Michael
jitters
as
he
holds
the
smoking
rifle.
The
two
boys
stare
at
each
other
in
shock.
INT.
BUICK
ESTATE
KITCHEN
The
dagger
is
found
on
Danny
and
he's
led
away
from
the
mansion
in
handcuffs.
In
the
meantime,
MICHAEL’S
FATHER
is
outside
amidst
the
flashing
lights
and
hullabaloo
of
the
crime
scene,
he
holds
his
shaking
son.
MICHAEL’S
FATHER
My
dear
boy,
what
were
you
thinking,
bringing
the
rifle
up
there?
MICHAEL
I
only
used
it
as
“binoculars”.
Michael’s
father
is
pleasantly
perplexed.
MICHAEL’S
FATHER
Well
then,
it
appears
we
need
to
find
you
a
real
set
of
binoculars.
Would
you
object
to
aiding
the
construction
of
our
watch
tower?
I
believe
it’s
time
we
Buick’s
get
our
hands
dirty.
Michael’s
father
lifts
his
boy.
MICHAEL’S
FATHER
(CONT’D)

34. Isaac.
Would
you
prepare
some
biscuits
for
my
son?
ISAAC
Yessir!
As
they
walk
back
into
the
house
together,
Isaac
winks
at
Michael.
____________

35. RAZZLE
DAZZLE
“OK
gang,
take
five.”
The
crew
takes
off,
&
Jim
relishes
the
moment,
left
alone
for
a
change,
instead
of
being
constantly
catered
to
&
harangued
by
legions
of
yes
men,
ass
lickers,
technicians,
hair
&
make-­‐up,
script
people,
co-­‐stars
.
.
.
Jim
takes
a
deep,
cleansing
breath,
and
decides
to
take
a
walk
outside
to
enjoy
his
unexpected
solitude.
Walking
through
the
vast
lot,
he
happens
upon
a
soundstage
notable
for
the
many
musicals
that
were
shot
within
its
cavernous
space,
way
back
when
the
studio
churned
them
out
in
a
string
of
successful
money-­‐
makers.
Furtively
looking
around
to
make
sure
that
no
is
watching,
he
slips
inside,
just
to
experience
that
Golden
Age
ambience
for
a
moment,
before
he
is
needed
back
on
his
own
set.
The
space
is
dark,
the
silence
deafening.
Suddenly,
a
powerful
klieg
light
shines
directly
into
his
eyes,
momentarily
blinding
him.
“Hey,
who’s
there?”
No
one
answers.
“C’mon
Nicole,
if
you
wish
to
shower
me
with
your
brilliance,
just
come
on
to
me
in
the
usual
fashion
.
.
.
there’s
no
need
for
these
theatrics!”
He
fingers
the
lapel
of
the
Hugo
Boss
suit
he’s
wearing
for
that
days’
shoot,
absently
brushing
off
some
lint
as
he
looks
around
the
vast
room.
Shrugging,
he
turns
towards
the
entrance
when
another
strong
light
ignites
to
the
left
of
him,
planting
him
squarely
in
the
illuminated
crossfire.

36. “What
the
fuck?”
Jim
hears
the
distinct
sounds
of
fingers
snapping,
as
a
series
of
gelled
spotlights
turn
on
in
sequence
.
.
.
now,
the
swish
of
a
brush
on
a
snare
drum
arises
seemingly
out
of
thin
air.
Jim
now
notices
his
shadow
cast
on
the
floor,
surprised
by
a
weird
protrusion
atop
his
head.
He
feels
and
finds
a
top
hat.
Really
startled
now,
he
looks
down
to
discover
that
he’s
no
longer
clothed
in
Boss,
but
is
now
wearing
tails,
spats
and
is
carrying
a
cane!
A
backbeat
begins
to
play,
and
individual
musicians,
set
behind
music
stands
on
an
immense
Art
Deco
bandstand
are
illuminated
one
by
one,
their
instruments
joining
in
as
they
are
set
alit,
the
now
full-­‐fledged
musical
number
filling
the
soundstage
with
glorious
sound.
Jim
can’t
help
but
tap
his
toe,
as
the
beat
is
now
infectious.
Throwing
caution
to
the
wind,
he
pivots
once,
twice.
Now
completely
caught
up
in
the
music,
he
turns
again,
and
is
confronted
by
an
entire
line
of
dancers,
girls
in
Fosse-­‐style
black
leotards,
heels
and
bowler
hats,
men
dressed
just
like
he
is
creeping
out
from
the
dark
perimeter.
Somehow,
Jim
instinctively
knows
exactly
what
to
do,
as
all
the
bodies
rush
forward
to
whisk
him
up
onto
their
shoulders
amidst
a
sudden
infusion
of
dry
ice
creeping
along
the
floor
at
their
feet.
Colored
lights
now
flash
in
unison
with
the
upbeat
music,
following
the
dance
troupe
through
their
choreographed
moves.
Jim
is
in
the
lead,
enjoying
his
newfound
freedom
and
talent
with
total
abandon,
dancing
up
a
storm
with
his
chorus
line.

37. One
final
razzle
dazzle
swivel
of
the
hips,
and
Jim,
now
sweating
profusely
from
his
energetic
efforts,
does
a
classic
shoulder
roll,
looks
behind
him
and
is
shocked
to
discover
no
one
there.
Total
silence,
palpable,
again
surrounds
him
as
the
last
notes
echo
off
into
the
darkness.
A
camera
crane
descends
out
of
the
air
close
to
Jim.
Seated
in
it,
a
director
gestures
towards
him,
saying,”
"Great
sequence,
Jim!
A
few
close-­‐ups
and
a
little
editing,
and
we’ll
have
another
hit
on
our
hands.
Congratulations.”
____________