Uziel
07-20-2008, 10:02 PM
Hey all... another script segment for you guys to rip to shreds. I won't say anything about it now, because I want crits of just these first eight pages, but I know it's not entirely clear where it's going. I'd just like to know whether this intro sucks you in. Once I get some crits I'll explain what direction the story will take.
Please be honest and brutal, as usual. I love and appreciate you all.
PAGE 1
1) Close-up of a fairly impressive-looking amateur telescope. It's nighttime, and the telescope is sitting in the back yard of a small rural cabin. The viewfinder should be centered in the frame.
2) Same shot, but now THEODORE UNION (a grizzly, Civil War-bearded man who looks an awful lot like the Unabomber) is peering intently into the viewer, screwing up his face with the other eye closed.
3) Same shot, but now he's staring into the telescope transfixed with shock and fear.
4) He's looked up, and turned his fearful expression skyward.
5) THEODORE is walking through the swinging screen door of his rustic cabin. He seems to be hurrying, taking a long stride.
6) Same shot, but THEODORE is no longer visible inside the cabin. Just stillness in back of the cabin.
7) THEODORE is stepping back out into the yard, glowering at the sky. He now carries a heavy machine gun, and has a bandolier of ammo slung across his chest. The bandolier has several grenades clipped to it. He also has a handgun holstered to his waste. He's calling back into the house with his eyes still on the sky.
THEODORE: Vanzetti! Get out here!
THEODORE (linked): Daddy needs your help.
PAGE 2
1) A shabby Oldsmobile sedan from the 80s -- one of the big, boxy ones -- is driving up a narrow mountain road, its bright headlights carving through the darkness.
FROM THE CAR: Jesus, Murph, I been driving up the side of this mountain for an hour now...
2) Inside the car VICTOR LANSKY, a middle-aged, balding salesman from Nebraska, talks on a cell-phone. The hand that's on the wheel holds a burning cigarette. VICTOR looks annoyed.
VICTOR: You even sure there's a town up here?
3) VICTOR now has the phone trapped between his head and shoulder while he steers with the other hand and puts the cigarette to his mouth, not yet dragging.
VICTOR: OK, sure, but what makes you think they're gonna want makeup? Looks like Deliverance territory back here.
4) Shot of the front wheel of the car turning near the low, rusted guardrail of the serpentine road, kicking up some loose gravel. Beyond the guardrail we can see that there's a sheer drop that goes down into the darkness.
VICTOR (OP): Yeah, yeah. Just feels like I'm driving into a damned horror movie. Why would anybody live here?
5) Shot of the night sky as seen through the windshield. Full, bright moon, the sky deep and thick with stars.
VICTOR (OP): I'm just saying if my commissions --
6) A beat-up, rusting road sign reads: WELCOME TO LODESTONE, POPULATION: 102.
VICTOR (OP): Ah, here we go. "Welcome to Lodestone. Population..." Are you serious?
PAGE 3 - Splash page
1) A wide shot of Iron Mountain. A single road winds its way up the barren cliffs, leading towards a small bank of houses on the side of the mountain near the top. The Oldsmobile is nearing the town.
VICTOR (in car): You can just go to hell, Murph. I'm gettin' my leads elsewhere from now on.
VICTOR (linked): Hello?
VICTOR (linked): You there?
CREDITS:
WELCOME TO LODESTONE
by Josh O'Neill
PAGE 4 - All four panels are the same camera angle, dead on the front porch with the door framed on the edge of the shot.
1) The front porch of a big, rambling old three-story house. The living room is lit up in the window, decorated with a sort of tasteful rustic luxury. On a rocking chair sits ADMIRAL FITZPATRICK, a generous tumbler of scotch resting in one hand. He is heavy-set, thick-shouldered, loose-faced and mustachioed -- a lion in winter. His sits there, staring out into nothing, looking stoic and cold. The front door of the house should be framed in the shot.
2) The camera hasn't moved. The ADMIRAL's son, MARCUS JR., is standing in front of the door, which is open behind him. He's just come out from inside the house. MARCUS is short, rail-thin and pale, wearing all black and an earring. He looks like one of those cool/nerdy quasi-goth theater geek kids. He looks frustrated, yet insistent and solicitous, as though he's containing his anger to try to communicate with his father.
MARCUS: Look, I know it doesn't mean anything to you, but this is actually kind of a big deal.
MARCUS: Steppenwolf is THE cutting edge theatre company. They get hundreds of applications and only hire nine interns.
3) Same shot. MARCUS is walking up behind his father, looking at him with a combination of pleading and insistence. The ADMIRAL's expression hasn't changed from the first panel.
MARCUS: It's just for a year. And then it'll look great on my college applications!
MARCUS: Please, Dad. This is what I want. I know it's in Chicago, but...
4) The same shot. MARCUS is beginning to grit his teeth slightly with frustration and anger. The ADMIRAL is speaking, retaining the same stoical expression.
ADMIRAL: Son...
ADMIRAL (linked): It's what you want. It isn't what you need.
ADMIRAL (linked): Next year you're going to the University of Montana. It's a good school. You'll like it there. And that's that.
ADMIRAL (linked): Now go inside and let me drink my scotch in peace.
PAGE 5
1) Small panel. Close on MARCUS, gritting his teeth with speechless rage and frustration. His lips are quivering. He wants to speak but can't.
2) Small panel. Same shot.
3) MARCUS explodes, spit flying out of his mouth as he yells at his father. For the rest of the page, the panels should be more trapezoidal than horizontal to indicate the increased emotion and speedy escalation of the moment.
MARCUS: You always do that! You just say how it's gonna be and shut down! Then you shoo me away like I'm a fly buzzing around your head!
4) MARCUS is advancing on his father, pointing an accusatory finger at him. The ADMIRAL is vexedly shutting his eyes and sucking in his lower lip as he inhales sharply.
MARCUS: I'm not a little kid anymore! I will not be sent to my room! This is MY LIFE!
5) The ADMIRAL, a black hole of barely-contained fatherly rage masked by a stoic exterior, speaks to MARCUS through gritted teeth. MARCUS still has his finger pointed in anger, and is now next to his father's rocking chair.
ADMIRAL: You're gonna want to watch who you're pointing that finger at.
MARCUS: We are going to TALK!!!
PAGE 6 - All four panels are the same unchanging dead-on camera angle of the porch from page 4.
1) The ADMIRAL has now stood up, dwarfing MARCUS somewhat. They stand chest to chest in that primal father-son alpha-male challenge. The way they're drawn, it shouldn't be entirely clear who would win the fight. The ADMIRAL is clearly bigger and stronger, but he also looks old and heavy and slow. Really tense moment here, obviously. MARCUS looks very enraged and a little scared. The ADMIRAL looks sad and calmly dominant, ready to put his son down if he has to.
ADMIRAL: No we're not, son.
ADMIRAL (linked): We're going to walk away, or we're going to do something else entirely.
2) The same shot. MARCUS grits his teeth and glares into his father's eyes.
3) Same shot.
4) Both have turned their faces outward and upward, towards the sky. Their rage is replaced by confusion and interest.
ADMIRAL: ...
ADMIRAL (linked): What the hell is that?
PAGE 7
1) The interior of Harry's Tavern, a shabby, crowded pub. A pair of elk antlers hang on a back wall. Regulars -- mostly men -- are lined up along the bar, and some groups sit at tables in the back. In the corner a jukebox is humming away. At the end of the bar, JOE WEST sits hunkering over his beer. WEST is tall, rangy, raw-boned -- a bulkier Marlboro Man. RONNIE CROW, a handsome 17-year-old Indian, leans on the bar holding up a couple of bills between his fingers, trying to looks casual as he talks to the BARTENDER.
RONNIE: Sixer of Bud, please.
BARTENDER: You got it.
2) JOE WEST grins knowingly at RONNIE while the bartender walks away to go get the six pack.
WEST: Your coach is gonna be real interested in this.
3) RONNIE tries to look casual, but knows he's been caught.
RONNIE: Beg pardon?
WEST: Big star out to get hammered on a Saturday night. Now is that what's best for the team?
4) RONNIE waves his hand as if to brush away WEST's concerns.
RONNIE: Come on, man. It's me and three of my friends. That's, like, a beer and a half a piece.
5) The bartender has returned is placing the beer on the bar in front of RONNIE.
BARTENDER: That'll be five bucks.
WEST: Willie, what are you doing serving this kid? You know this is Ronnie Crow.
BARTENDER: You're damn right I do. You see that game he ran last week? Anybody who can break tackles like that is man enough for a beer.
WEST: Well, I guess you're r--
6) The bar is suddenly dark. We can just barely make out the silhouettes of the characters. RONNIE is grabbing the six pack and moving for the door, while the other characters look around in confusion.
BARTENDER: ...the hell...?
RONNIE (small text): thanksseeyaMisterWest
PAGE 8
1) Wide strip across the top fifth of the page. The exterior of the bar. A faded sign reads HARRY'S TAVERN. The lights are still off inside. RONNIE is hurrying out while WEST is following him, reaching out for his shoulder with a big meaty hand.
WEST: Slow down, bub, I was talkin t--
2) Huge panel, 4/5 of the page. Two more patrons of the bar have come outside and they, along with RONNIE and WEST, have turned their faces to the sky with a look of surprise and awe.
WEST: Jesus, Mary and Joseph...
BYSTANDER: Ain't we a little far south for the Northern Lights?
Please be honest and brutal, as usual. I love and appreciate you all.
PAGE 1
1) Close-up of a fairly impressive-looking amateur telescope. It's nighttime, and the telescope is sitting in the back yard of a small rural cabin. The viewfinder should be centered in the frame.
2) Same shot, but now THEODORE UNION (a grizzly, Civil War-bearded man who looks an awful lot like the Unabomber) is peering intently into the viewer, screwing up his face with the other eye closed.
3) Same shot, but now he's staring into the telescope transfixed with shock and fear.
4) He's looked up, and turned his fearful expression skyward.
5) THEODORE is walking through the swinging screen door of his rustic cabin. He seems to be hurrying, taking a long stride.
6) Same shot, but THEODORE is no longer visible inside the cabin. Just stillness in back of the cabin.
7) THEODORE is stepping back out into the yard, glowering at the sky. He now carries a heavy machine gun, and has a bandolier of ammo slung across his chest. The bandolier has several grenades clipped to it. He also has a handgun holstered to his waste. He's calling back into the house with his eyes still on the sky.
THEODORE: Vanzetti! Get out here!
THEODORE (linked): Daddy needs your help.
PAGE 2
1) A shabby Oldsmobile sedan from the 80s -- one of the big, boxy ones -- is driving up a narrow mountain road, its bright headlights carving through the darkness.
FROM THE CAR: Jesus, Murph, I been driving up the side of this mountain for an hour now...
2) Inside the car VICTOR LANSKY, a middle-aged, balding salesman from Nebraska, talks on a cell-phone. The hand that's on the wheel holds a burning cigarette. VICTOR looks annoyed.
VICTOR: You even sure there's a town up here?
3) VICTOR now has the phone trapped between his head and shoulder while he steers with the other hand and puts the cigarette to his mouth, not yet dragging.
VICTOR: OK, sure, but what makes you think they're gonna want makeup? Looks like Deliverance territory back here.
4) Shot of the front wheel of the car turning near the low, rusted guardrail of the serpentine road, kicking up some loose gravel. Beyond the guardrail we can see that there's a sheer drop that goes down into the darkness.
VICTOR (OP): Yeah, yeah. Just feels like I'm driving into a damned horror movie. Why would anybody live here?
5) Shot of the night sky as seen through the windshield. Full, bright moon, the sky deep and thick with stars.
VICTOR (OP): I'm just saying if my commissions --
6) A beat-up, rusting road sign reads: WELCOME TO LODESTONE, POPULATION: 102.
VICTOR (OP): Ah, here we go. "Welcome to Lodestone. Population..." Are you serious?
PAGE 3 - Splash page
1) A wide shot of Iron Mountain. A single road winds its way up the barren cliffs, leading towards a small bank of houses on the side of the mountain near the top. The Oldsmobile is nearing the town.
VICTOR (in car): You can just go to hell, Murph. I'm gettin' my leads elsewhere from now on.
VICTOR (linked): Hello?
VICTOR (linked): You there?
CREDITS:
WELCOME TO LODESTONE
by Josh O'Neill
PAGE 4 - All four panels are the same camera angle, dead on the front porch with the door framed on the edge of the shot.
1) The front porch of a big, rambling old three-story house. The living room is lit up in the window, decorated with a sort of tasteful rustic luxury. On a rocking chair sits ADMIRAL FITZPATRICK, a generous tumbler of scotch resting in one hand. He is heavy-set, thick-shouldered, loose-faced and mustachioed -- a lion in winter. His sits there, staring out into nothing, looking stoic and cold. The front door of the house should be framed in the shot.
2) The camera hasn't moved. The ADMIRAL's son, MARCUS JR., is standing in front of the door, which is open behind him. He's just come out from inside the house. MARCUS is short, rail-thin and pale, wearing all black and an earring. He looks like one of those cool/nerdy quasi-goth theater geek kids. He looks frustrated, yet insistent and solicitous, as though he's containing his anger to try to communicate with his father.
MARCUS: Look, I know it doesn't mean anything to you, but this is actually kind of a big deal.
MARCUS: Steppenwolf is THE cutting edge theatre company. They get hundreds of applications and only hire nine interns.
3) Same shot. MARCUS is walking up behind his father, looking at him with a combination of pleading and insistence. The ADMIRAL's expression hasn't changed from the first panel.
MARCUS: It's just for a year. And then it'll look great on my college applications!
MARCUS: Please, Dad. This is what I want. I know it's in Chicago, but...
4) The same shot. MARCUS is beginning to grit his teeth slightly with frustration and anger. The ADMIRAL is speaking, retaining the same stoical expression.
ADMIRAL: Son...
ADMIRAL (linked): It's what you want. It isn't what you need.
ADMIRAL (linked): Next year you're going to the University of Montana. It's a good school. You'll like it there. And that's that.
ADMIRAL (linked): Now go inside and let me drink my scotch in peace.
PAGE 5
1) Small panel. Close on MARCUS, gritting his teeth with speechless rage and frustration. His lips are quivering. He wants to speak but can't.
2) Small panel. Same shot.
3) MARCUS explodes, spit flying out of his mouth as he yells at his father. For the rest of the page, the panels should be more trapezoidal than horizontal to indicate the increased emotion and speedy escalation of the moment.
MARCUS: You always do that! You just say how it's gonna be and shut down! Then you shoo me away like I'm a fly buzzing around your head!
4) MARCUS is advancing on his father, pointing an accusatory finger at him. The ADMIRAL is vexedly shutting his eyes and sucking in his lower lip as he inhales sharply.
MARCUS: I'm not a little kid anymore! I will not be sent to my room! This is MY LIFE!
5) The ADMIRAL, a black hole of barely-contained fatherly rage masked by a stoic exterior, speaks to MARCUS through gritted teeth. MARCUS still has his finger pointed in anger, and is now next to his father's rocking chair.
ADMIRAL: You're gonna want to watch who you're pointing that finger at.
MARCUS: We are going to TALK!!!
PAGE 6 - All four panels are the same unchanging dead-on camera angle of the porch from page 4.
1) The ADMIRAL has now stood up, dwarfing MARCUS somewhat. They stand chest to chest in that primal father-son alpha-male challenge. The way they're drawn, it shouldn't be entirely clear who would win the fight. The ADMIRAL is clearly bigger and stronger, but he also looks old and heavy and slow. Really tense moment here, obviously. MARCUS looks very enraged and a little scared. The ADMIRAL looks sad and calmly dominant, ready to put his son down if he has to.
ADMIRAL: No we're not, son.
ADMIRAL (linked): We're going to walk away, or we're going to do something else entirely.
2) The same shot. MARCUS grits his teeth and glares into his father's eyes.
3) Same shot.
4) Both have turned their faces outward and upward, towards the sky. Their rage is replaced by confusion and interest.
ADMIRAL: ...
ADMIRAL (linked): What the hell is that?
PAGE 7
1) The interior of Harry's Tavern, a shabby, crowded pub. A pair of elk antlers hang on a back wall. Regulars -- mostly men -- are lined up along the bar, and some groups sit at tables in the back. In the corner a jukebox is humming away. At the end of the bar, JOE WEST sits hunkering over his beer. WEST is tall, rangy, raw-boned -- a bulkier Marlboro Man. RONNIE CROW, a handsome 17-year-old Indian, leans on the bar holding up a couple of bills between his fingers, trying to looks casual as he talks to the BARTENDER.
RONNIE: Sixer of Bud, please.
BARTENDER: You got it.
2) JOE WEST grins knowingly at RONNIE while the bartender walks away to go get the six pack.
WEST: Your coach is gonna be real interested in this.
3) RONNIE tries to look casual, but knows he's been caught.
RONNIE: Beg pardon?
WEST: Big star out to get hammered on a Saturday night. Now is that what's best for the team?
4) RONNIE waves his hand as if to brush away WEST's concerns.
RONNIE: Come on, man. It's me and three of my friends. That's, like, a beer and a half a piece.
5) The bartender has returned is placing the beer on the bar in front of RONNIE.
BARTENDER: That'll be five bucks.
WEST: Willie, what are you doing serving this kid? You know this is Ronnie Crow.
BARTENDER: You're damn right I do. You see that game he ran last week? Anybody who can break tackles like that is man enough for a beer.
WEST: Well, I guess you're r--
6) The bar is suddenly dark. We can just barely make out the silhouettes of the characters. RONNIE is grabbing the six pack and moving for the door, while the other characters look around in confusion.
BARTENDER: ...the hell...?
RONNIE (small text): thanksseeyaMisterWest
PAGE 8
1) Wide strip across the top fifth of the page. The exterior of the bar. A faded sign reads HARRY'S TAVERN. The lights are still off inside. RONNIE is hurrying out while WEST is following him, reaching out for his shoulder with a big meaty hand.
WEST: Slow down, bub, I was talkin t--
2) Huge panel, 4/5 of the page. Two more patrons of the bar have come outside and they, along with RONNIE and WEST, have turned their faces to the sky with a look of surprise and awe.
WEST: Jesus, Mary and Joseph...
BYSTANDER: Ain't we a little far south for the Northern Lights?