EXT. LEN’S HOUSE - DAY
A car pulls into the yard in front of an old house that seems
abandoned. LEN PELLATON steps out of his car. He looks like
he hasn’t cleaned himself for days. There is not a smile to
be found on his face. He takes a quick look at his house and
lets out a long sigh.
*Side Note* We don’t see the house when Len takes a look at
it.
Out from the side of the house walks VERONICA. She has a
bright smile on her face, like she is very happy to see Len
come home. She runs up to Len and gives him a quick hug.
*Side note* When she walks around the house we will
intentionally keep the house out of the shot.
LEN
Hey, Veronica!
Len is now wearing a business suit and is very happy to see
her.
VERONICA
I’ve missed you today! All I could
think about was having you next to
me while we watch a movie tonight.
LEN
What is it going to be?
Veronica answers in a light hearted, sarcastic tone.
VERONICA
The sappy love stories you can’t
get enough of.
LEN
Whatever makes you happy.
Veronica puts her arms around him.
VERONICA
How did I meet someone as perfect
as you?
LEN
I guess luck.
They both chuckle at the comment. She moves in to kiss him,
and as soon as she should reach him she disappears. When we
look back at Len, he is back to the way we were first
introduced to him and Veronica is no longer around.
Len lightly shuts the door to where it doesn’t fully close.
Throughout the scene we never see the house itself until
Len’s disappointment.
INT. LEN’S HOUSE - DAY
Everything is a mess. Someone has clearly been living there,
but never cleans. The door opens and Len walks in. He walks
over to the kitchen, opens a drawer and pulls out a can of
cat food. He takes a small plate out of the sink, and scoops
out wet cat food onto the plate with a dirty fork. Len wipes
off the fork with his shirt and pulls a piece of pie out of
the refrigerator. He clears a spot on the kitchen table for
the pie and sits down. As Len is about to take a stab at the
pie the fork is yanked out of his hand. He looks up and sees
ROB sitting in front of him.
ROB
Why, if it isn’t Len Pellaton. If
you don’t mind me asking, what the
hell is this?
LEN
It’s a fork. And in case you can’t
tell, Rob, this is pie.
ROB
You know what I mean.
LEN
I don’t care.
Rob lays the fork down on the table. He cocks his head. Len
is sitting there unmoved.
ROB
It’s your choice.
Len looks at Rob for a few seconds.
LEN
It was the closest thing to grab.
ROB
So?
LEN
So, I wiped it off on my shirt. No
big deal. I took care if it.
ROB
The shirt you wore to the factory
today?
LEN
And?
ROB
The one you sweat in all day?
LEN
Give me a break, it’s my sweat.
ROB
You need to take care of yourself.
LEN
I am.
ROB
You’ve chosen whatever is in front
of you, like the fork, rather than
what is better for you.
LEN
I told you, I am.
ROB
It’s not healthy to be the selfloathing,
disappointed piece of
shit that you are.
LEN
I said I am taking care of myself!
The best way I know how! What the
hell else do you want from me?
ROB
I can’t tell you that.
While Len says the next dialogue, the camera is focused on
Rob who has a concerned look on his face.
LEN
You’re here. You’re talking to me.
You can tell me what you want.
After this dialogue is spoken by Len, we cut over to his
face.
LEN (CONT’D)
Stop leaving me!
Len picks up the plate with pie on it and throws it at the
wall. It goes right past the place where Rob was sitting.
Rob is no longer there. He has fully disappeared.
LEN (CONT’D)
How can I expect to do anything
without some kind of guidance?
EXT. LEN’S HOUSE - DAY
Len goes barging out of his front door and to the middle of
his yard. He looks out and screams to everything around him.
LEN
What do you expect from me? I
chose the fork when I was young!
What do you want?
Veronica sneaks up behind him and puts her arms around his
waste. She gets really close and whispers in his ear.
VERONICA
I want you and only you.
Len turns around towards the house while in her grasp and
holds onto her. He begins to cry while holding onto her.
------ An extra ending in case of better explanation -----
A man and woman are running side by side down the street and
stop when in front of Len’s house. They see Len standing
alone, crying, facing his house.
MAN
Should we help?
WOMAN
Let’s finish running. We’ll stop
by later.
The couple continue running down the street, leaving Len
alone to himself.
FADE TO BLACK.
Friday, December 25, 2009
Finally: A Reason for this Blog
I have realized today that there are three people who follow this blog. I'm not sure when this happened, or how, but I feel bad that nothing has been posted since my writings on Synecdoche, New York. However much I enjoy analyzing films, I feel that it would be interesting to post snippets of my own writing, and hear what other people think. But I will also write what inspires me, and if that is analyzing a film once again then I will do so. The reason for this is because I am stuck within my recent screenplay. It could be writer's block, or it could be that I've lost passion for the story. Either way, I think this will be good for me to do so that I can grow as a writer. See what inspires me, so that one day I can write like the ones who produce the most beautiful pieces of art that go up on the big screen.
To begin: Charlie Kaufman and Haruki Murakami are currently my two favorite writers. At one time I might have said Ingmar Bergman, Quentin Tarantino, or F. Scott Fitzgerald. These guys might make it back on my list some day, but today I am feeling their writings more than anyone else. Kaufman and Murakami use very human characters in situations that might be despicable, yet I still feel for them. Is it due to an eccentric story line that keeps me interested? Or maybe because they are just so human that I can see myself in them? Either way, they hit this level of honesty that I hope to reach within every single thing I write. Currently I am reading Norwegian Wood, and I can't stop thinking about the connections that he has between his lead character Watanabe and the lead character in South of the Border: West of the Sun. I remember reading in Murakami's memoir something along these lines: "I don't particularly like who I am. It's like carrying around extra baggage everywhere I go. But I don't have a choice. I'm always going to be me. And carrying it around, obviously I've grown fond of it." Of course, that is incredibly butchered, but the main point is that there are characteristics of who we are that we want to change, such as being overly shy, but we live with what we have. It seems as if Murakami is stuck in this idea that he had a love when he was young, and somehow let it slip through his fingers. His main character in both stories is a man in his 40s who regrets leaving that one woman in the past, then marrying someone he thought he loved, but nothing close to the one he had. This could either be literal or figurative. Either way, his writing shows regret. And it's this same lonely regret that can be seen in Charlie Kaufman's characters. I'm only 20, going to be 21 in two weeks, and I'm already feeling this desperation of being someone else. Does it just go downhill from here? Or will there be some remarkable turning point? It's Christmas day, and instead of loving the moment I'm missing the past. Nostalgia creeps in like a silent cancer. But I digress. Caden Cotard in Synecdoche, New York has a lot of personal similarities to Charlie Kaufman in Adaptation. The writing is honest. When someone is lying they tend to tell the story the same way each time. Kaufman and Murakami's characters have minor changes, but in the end they typically have some of the same flawed personas. I hope to one day reach a level of honesty that I can do the same with my characters, but also put them in a world that I believe to be truly beautiful.
Thanks for reading. I'm sure this is probably so personal to me that it will not interest anyone else, but I guess that's what true writers think of each of their works. I will be adding on a screenplay I wrote soon. Let me know what you think if you have the time.
Have a Merry Christmas!
To begin: Charlie Kaufman and Haruki Murakami are currently my two favorite writers. At one time I might have said Ingmar Bergman, Quentin Tarantino, or F. Scott Fitzgerald. These guys might make it back on my list some day, but today I am feeling their writings more than anyone else. Kaufman and Murakami use very human characters in situations that might be despicable, yet I still feel for them. Is it due to an eccentric story line that keeps me interested? Or maybe because they are just so human that I can see myself in them? Either way, they hit this level of honesty that I hope to reach within every single thing I write. Currently I am reading Norwegian Wood, and I can't stop thinking about the connections that he has between his lead character Watanabe and the lead character in South of the Border: West of the Sun. I remember reading in Murakami's memoir something along these lines: "I don't particularly like who I am. It's like carrying around extra baggage everywhere I go. But I don't have a choice. I'm always going to be me. And carrying it around, obviously I've grown fond of it." Of course, that is incredibly butchered, but the main point is that there are characteristics of who we are that we want to change, such as being overly shy, but we live with what we have. It seems as if Murakami is stuck in this idea that he had a love when he was young, and somehow let it slip through his fingers. His main character in both stories is a man in his 40s who regrets leaving that one woman in the past, then marrying someone he thought he loved, but nothing close to the one he had. This could either be literal or figurative. Either way, his writing shows regret. And it's this same lonely regret that can be seen in Charlie Kaufman's characters. I'm only 20, going to be 21 in two weeks, and I'm already feeling this desperation of being someone else. Does it just go downhill from here? Or will there be some remarkable turning point? It's Christmas day, and instead of loving the moment I'm missing the past. Nostalgia creeps in like a silent cancer. But I digress. Caden Cotard in Synecdoche, New York has a lot of personal similarities to Charlie Kaufman in Adaptation. The writing is honest. When someone is lying they tend to tell the story the same way each time. Kaufman and Murakami's characters have minor changes, but in the end they typically have some of the same flawed personas. I hope to one day reach a level of honesty that I can do the same with my characters, but also put them in a world that I believe to be truly beautiful.
Thanks for reading. I'm sure this is probably so personal to me that it will not interest anyone else, but I guess that's what true writers think of each of their works. I will be adding on a screenplay I wrote soon. Let me know what you think if you have the time.
Have a Merry Christmas!
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