Le Monde de L'Écriture – Forum d'entraide littéraire

01 décembre 2020 à 21:41:58
Bienvenue, Invité. Merci de vous connecter ou de vous inscrire.


Le Monde de L'Écriture » Encore plus loin dans l'écriture ! » Textes non francophones » big pressures

Auteur Sujet: big pressures  (Lu 771 fois)

Hors ligne richard

  • Plumelette
  • Messages: 6
big pressures
« le: 30 avril 2016 à 18:48:38 »
Big Pressures

                            written by
                            Richard Bouskila










                                                      5/06/97
                                                      first










     INT.  MIAMI AIRPORT, TERMINAL -- DAY

     Amongst the weary tourist families and solitary businessmen
     sits TOM WELLES, middle-aged, hair neat, suit crisp and
     gray.  He's eating crackers from a cellophane package,
     sipping soda from a paper cup, watching an ARRIVAL GATE.

     AT THE GATE

     PASSENGERS arrive: the paunchy, graying men of First Class
     leading the pack, except for a handsome YOUNG REPUBLICAN
     poster boy hurrying along.

     ACROSS THE TERMINAL

     Welles gets up and FOLLOWS...

     EXT.  MIAMI AIRPORT, CURBSIDE -- DAY

     Welles comes outside, squinting in the sun, moving down the
     sidewalk, looking back over his shoulder...

     The Young Republican is lead to a waiting LIMO by a DRIVER.

     Welles moves to the nearby TAXI STAND...

     INT.  TAXI -- DAY

     Welles gets in, turning in his seat to watch behind.

                             CAB DRIVER
               Where to?

     Welles keeps watching, sees the limo pull away and pass.

                             WELLES
               Follow that limousine.  Don't get
               too close, don't let it get too far
               away.  Just keep with it.

                             CAB DRIVER
               You kidding?

                             WELLES
               Nope.

     The cab set in motion.  Welles takes out cigarettes,
     lighting one, takes out a small NOTEPAD and makes notations.

                             CAB DRIVER
               Uh, listen... you're not supposed to
               be smoking in here.  I'm sorry,
               that's company policy...

                             WELLES
               How about this... every cigarette I
               smoke, I give you five dollars?

                             CAB DRIVER
               Okay... okay, yeah, that'd be good...


     EXT.  MIAMI BEACH, "GOLD COAST" -- DAY

     In front of an Art Deco hotel, the driver opens the
     limousine door and the Young Republican steps out.

     ACROSS THE STREET

     Welles watches from inside the double-parked taxicab.


     EXT.  MIAMI BEACH MOTOR LODGE -- DAY

     Not exactly four-star.  "AD LT MOVIES EVERY ROOM."

     INT.  MIAMI BEACH MOTOR LODGE -- DAY

     Welles is asleep on the bed, full dressed, hands folded
     across his stomach, snoring lightly, sweaty.

     INT.  MIAMI BEACH MOTOR LODGE, RESTAURANT -- DAY

     Welles sits alone at the bar, eating a sandwich, bored.  He
     watches some fuzzy ESPN on the t.v., looks at his watch.

     EXT.  MIAMI BEACH MOTOR LODGE -- DAY

     Welles walks across the parking lot, gets into his RENTAL
     CAR, starts it and drives away.


     EXT.  MIAMI BEACH DISCOTHEQUE -- NIGHT

     Young Republican and a GAUDY WOMAN exit the disco, MUSIC
     THROBBING out from the doors behind them.  They join hands,
     drunk, heading to the street, looking for their limo.

     DOWN THE STREET

     Welles is seated in his parked rental car, raises a CAMERA
     with TELEPHOTO LENS: whir, CLICK, whir, CLICK, whir, CLICK...
     Welles lowers the camera, letting out a yawn.


     INT.  AIRPLANE, COACH -- NIGHT

     The familiar DRONE of flight.  Welles is shoehorned into his
     aisle seat, using tiny utensils to eat his tiny meal.

     An OLDER WOMAN arrives in the aisle.  Welles picks up his
     tray, closes his tray table, unbuckling his seatbelt,
     struggling to get up... finally successful, balancing his
     tray, letting the woman in to the window seat.

                             OLDER WOMAN
                 Thank you.

     Welles nods, forcing a smile, sitting back down.  He returns
     to toiling over his miniature supper.


     EXT.  HARRISBURG INTERNATIONAL AIRPORT -- NIGHT

     Welles' AIRPLANE ROARS down with a SCREECH, landing lights
     gleaming.  The airport is small, relatively isolated.

     TITLE:      Harrisburg, Pennsylvania

     INT.  HARRISBURG INTERNATIONAL AIRPORT -- NIGHT

     Passengers arrive.  Welles is with them, searching the few
     PEOPLE waiting in the terminal hallway.  Welles smiles...

     Welles' wife, AMY, smiles when she sees him.  She's plain
     and pretty, holding one hand on a BABY STROLLER beside her.
     Welles comes to her, embracing her, appreciating her.

                             AMY
                 Welcome home.

                             WELLES
                 Do you know how much I missed you?

     They kiss, but Amy pulls away, sniffs him.

                             AMY
                 What's this... have you been
                 smoking... ?

                             WELLES
                 Smoking?  I'm not smoking.

                             AMY
                 Your clothing reeks of it.

                             WELLES
                 You know, Amy, I've been sitting
                 around in bars and everywhere
                 following this guy... I mean, is
                 this what I get first thing?  Before
                 you even "hello," you accuse me... ?

                             AMY
                 I'm not accusing you...

                             WELLES
                 Well, I'm not smoking, okay?

                             AMY
                 Okay, I believe you.

                             WELLES
                 We've been all through that.  I've
                 been on my best behavior.

     Welles bends to the stroller, picks up his infant daughter,
     CINDY, and hoists her in the air, overjoyed.

                             WELLES
                 Hello, pumpkin-head, did you miss
                 me?  I sure missed you...

     He kisses the happy child, holding her in one arm.

                             WELLES
                 Let's get my bags and get the hell
                 out of here.

     Welles pulls Amy close and kisses her again, leads the way.
     Amy follows, pushing the stroller.

                             AMY
                 How's the detective business?

                             WELLES
                 Business was fine.  I'll tell you
                 what, you couldn't pay me enough to
                 live down there.

                             AMY
                 You better not be smoking, that's
                 all I can say.

                             WELLES
                 Honey, I'm not, please...

     Amy takes Welles hand, smiling at him.


     INT.  WELLES' HOUSE, BEDROOM -- NIGHT

     Welles and Amy make love in the darkness.  Standard,
     missionary position sex, little passion.  They slow to a
     finish, uneventfully, holding each other.  Their breathing
     quiets.  Their daughter CINDY can be HEARD CRYING elsewhere.

     Welles kisses his wife again, rolls off of her and sits on
     the edge of the bed.  Amy covers herself.

                             AMY
                 I love you.

                             WELLES
                 I love you.

     He looks towards her in the dark.  He gets up, gets a towel
     from the bathroom and wraps it around him.

     INT.  WELLES' HOUSE, BABY'S ROOM -- NIGHT

     Cindy's crying.  Welles enters, goes to lean into the crib.

                             WELLES
                 What's all the trouble, Cinderella?
                 What are you crying about, huh?

     He lifts and cradles Cindy, comforting her.


     EXT.  HARRISBURG CITYSCAPE -- ESTABLISHING --DAY

     A small city of moderate architecture facing the Susquehanna.

     INT.  OFFICE -- DAY

     An old money office with windows over the river.  A well-to-
     do POLITICIAN looks unhappily through PHOTOS on his desk.
     Welles sits by the Pennsylvania state flag, watching.

     PHOTOS show the Young Republican and Gaudy Woman in Miami:
     leaving the Art Deco hotel, the Discotheque, a restaurant...

                             WELLES
                 Your son-in-law dealt with the dry
                 cleaning franchise during the day,
                 saw that woman every night.
                       (clears his throat)
                 The specifics are in the report, and
                 information about the woman.  It's
                 unpleasant, I know.  I apologize...

                             POLITICIAN
                 None too discreet, is he?

                             WELLES
                 No, sir, he is not.

                             POLITICIAN
                 He's an imbecile.  I tried to warn
                 my daughter, but what can you do?

     The politician shakes his head in disgust.  Welles rises.

                             WELLES
                 The um... you'll find my invoice in
                 the envelope. If that's all...

                             POLITICIAN
                 Yes, Mister Welles, thank you.

                             WELLES
                 Certainly, Senator.  If I can ever
                 be of further assistance.

     Welles leaves, glances back, shuts the door.

     EXT.  HARRISBURG STREETS -- DAY

     Welles drives his plain Ford past the CAPITAL BUILDING.

     EXT.  HARRISBURG, BRIDGE -- DAY

     Welles' car crosses the Susquehanna, leaving the city.

     EXT.  WELLES' HOUSE, BACKYARD -- DAY

     Sunny day.  Welles wears tan khakis, T-shirt and fishing
     cap, mowing his lawn with his ROARING lawnmower.  Welles'
     yard is modest, surrounding his modest split level suburban
     one in a neighborhood of similar homes and similar yards.

     Welles turns the lawnmower, stopping to mop his brow.  One
     of his neighbors is repainting a back porch.  The neighbor
     waves.  Welles waves, resumes mowing.


     INT.  BOWLING ALLEY -- NIGHT

     MUSIC'S LOUD.  League Night.  Every lane full.  Welles is
     with his team in BOWLING SHIRTS.  Welles hoists his ball,
     preparing to bowl.  He takes three steps, releases...

     Down the lane, PINS SCATTER.  One pin remains standing.

     Welles balls up his fists and curses, walks back towards his
     rowdy, mocking teammates.  He shouts back at them, laughing,
     grabbing his beer and drinking, waiting at the ball return.

     INT.  WELLES' HOUSE, KITCHEN -- NIGHT

     Dinner.  Welles and Amy eat at the kitchen table with Cindy
     in a high chair.  Amy feeds Cindy between bites.  Welles is
     still in his league shirt.

                             AMY
                 You think you'll have time for the
                 water heater this weekend?

                             WELLES
                 Sure.  I'll call the guy.

                             AMY
                 You're not using the same guy who
                 tried to fix it?

                             WELLES
                 I'm not using him again for
                 anything.  He was worthless.
                       (eating)
                 You have bridge here Saturday?

                             AMY
                 Betty's out of town so we're playing
                 next week.

     Welles nods, eating.  He watches Amy feed Cindy.  The PHONE
     starts RINGING.  Welles goes to answer it.

                             WELLES
                       (into PHONE)
                 Hello.  Yes... could you hold on a
                 minute...?

     Welles hands the phone to Amy, pats Cindy's head as he heads
     downstairs, through the LIVING ROOM...

     INT.  WELLES' HOUSE, OFFICE -- NIGHT

     Welles enters his well kept OFFICE, turns on a light at the
     desk.  The room is filled with FILE CABINETS and shelves of
     BOOKS, hundreds of PHONE BOOKS and a COPY MACHINE.  Welles
     picks up the phone and cups the receiver.

                             WELLES
                       (shouts upstairs)
                 Okay, I've got it.
                       (into phone)
                 Hello... sorry, I was switching
                 phones.  It's a pleasure to make
                 your acquaintance, Mrs. Christian.
                       (listens)
                 Yes.  Yes, I understand... tomorrow
                 evening should be fine...

     Welles listens, clears space on his desk, taking notes.


     EXT.  CHRISTIAN COMPOUND -- DUSK

     A huge OLD WORLD MANSION is situated at the center of acres
     of Pennsylvania forest and vast gardens.  Welles' car heads
     down a long tree lined drive, to the dark mansion.

     INT.  CHRISTIAN HOUSE, HALLWAY -- NIGHT

     Welles follows a BUTLER down a long hall.

     INT.  CHRISTIAN HOUSE, LIBRARY -- NIGHT

     The butler shows Welles in, shuts the door.
     Towering SHELVES of BOOKS are serviced by ladders.  Far
     across the room, an old, sad woman, MRS. CHRISTIAN, sits
     waiting with a tall, thin, sinister ghoul of a LAWYER.

                             MRS CHRISTIAN
                 Mister Welles. You're very prompt.   

                             WELLES
                 I try to be.

     Welles crosses towards them. It takes a while.

                             MRS CHRISTIAN
                 I appreciate your coming on such
                 short notice.

     Mrs. Christian holds out her hand and Welles takes it.

                             MRS CHRISTIAN
                 This is Mister Longdale, my late
                 husband's attorney.

     Welles shakes Longdale's limp hand, looking him over.

                             WELLES
                 Uh huh, pleasure.

                             MRS CHRISTIAN
                 Apparently Mr. Longdale has
                 something he feels he simply must
                 say before you and I speak.

                             LONGDALE
                 Yes, I do have something to say.  I
                 insisted on being here as soon as I
                 heard Mrs. Christian contacted you.

                             WELLES
                 I'm listening.

                             LONGDALE
                 As Mr. Christian's attorney and one
                 of the executors of his estate, it
                 concerns me that a meeting of this
                 sort should take place without my
                 being asked to attend.

                             WELLES
                 Of what sort?

                             LONGDALE
                 You are a private investigator?

                             WELLES
                 That's right.

                             LONGDALE
                 Well, whatever reasons Mrs.
                 Christian has for engaging the
                 services of a private investigator,
                 I should certainly be a party to.
                 But, since she feels differently, I
                 can only go on the record as having
                 expressed my adamant disapproval.

                             MRS CHRISTIAN
                 Yes, how theatrical.  So you've gone
                 on the record, and now perhaps you
                 should just be gone.

     Longdale's irritated, but has no choice.  He walks away.

                             MRS CHRISTIAN
                 Have a pleasant evening.
                       (to Welles)
                 Will you have tea, Mister Welles?

                             WELLES
                 Thank you.

     Mrs. Christian begins pouring tea from the service on a
     table.  Welles watches Longdale exit.

                             WELLES
                 He's odd.

                             MRS CHRISTIAN
                 He's a lawyer.
                       (offers tea)
                 Please, sit, here...

     Welles accepts a dainty tea cup and saucer, taking a seat.

                             MRS CHRISTIAN
                 I've spoken to friends of mine and
                 my husband's, in Harrisburg, in
                 Lancaster and Hershey.  Asking about
                 you.  I must say you have friends in
                 influential places.

                             WELLES
                 I've been privileged to provide
                 services for people I admire.

                             MRS CHRISTIAN
                 You are highly recommended.  Praised
                 for your discretion... your strict
                 adherence to confidentiality.

     Welles nods, sipping tea.

                             MRS CHRISTIAN
                 As you know, my husband passed away
                 recently.  Two weeks ago now.

                             WELLES
                 My condolences.

                             MRS CHRISTIAN
                 His passing has left me with...
                 something of a dilemma.  A terrible,
                 terrible dilemma.

                             WELLES
                 I'll do whatever I can to help.

     Mrs. Christian studies Welles.

     INT. CHRISTIAN HOUSE, MR CHRISTIAN'S OFFICE -- NIGHT

     Mrs. Christian and Welles enter.  This office has been lived
     in for a lifetime.  Giant DESK.  AMERICAN FLAG.  Walls
     covered in old b+w PHOTOGRAPHS and ACHIEVEMENTS. A large,
     baked enamel sign nailed up, "CHRISTIAN STEEL."

                             MRS CHRISTIAN
                 His inner sanctum.

     Welles looks up at the OIL PAINTING over the fireplace: MR.
     CHRISTIAN, a powerful, old man, posed with a dark, teeming,
     industrial landscape behind him.

                             MRS CHRISTIAN
                 Not many people have been inside
                 this room.

     Welles examines PHOTOS of Mr. Christian visiting various
     STEEL PLANTS, COAL MINES and ground-breaking ceremonies,
     shaking hands with WORKMEN, with POLITICIANS.


                             WELLES
                 Pittsburgh?

                             MRS CHRISTIAN
                 Mostly.  That's where he started his
                 empire building.
                       (looks up at portrait)
                 He was a good man.  Notorious as an
                 eccentric, but that was something he
                 cultivated.  He wanted to be
                 legendary.

                             WELLES
                 He succeeded.

                             MRS CHRISTIAN
                 We were married forty-five years.
                 Hard even for me to imagine.  We had
                 our troubles.  There were plenty of
                 places for him to be other than
                 here, but he was always loyal to me,
                 and I to him.  I loved him deeply.

     Welles waits.

                             MRS CHRISTIAN
                 Do you carry a gun, Mr. Welles?

                             WELLES
                 I wear a gun when I can tell a
                 client expects me to.  Other than
                 that, there's never any reason.

                             MRS CHRISTIAN
                 Just curious.

     Mrs. Christian crosses to take down a PICTURE, revealing a
     WALL SAFE.  The safe is ajar, burnt and scarred, broken into.

                             MRS CHRISTIAN
                 My husband was the only one with the
                 combination to this safe.  I knew
                 about it, but as far as I was
                 concerned it was none of my
                 business.  Not till now, that is.

                             WELLES
                 You hired someone to open it.  I'll
                 bet the lawyer loved that.

                             MRS CHRISTIAN
                 There was nothing he could do.  My
                 husband left everything to me.
                       (looks at safe)
                 I prevented anyone from seeing the
                 contents.  I felt these were my
                 husband's private things.  I
                 didn't... I didn't realize...

                             WELLES
                 Do you want to tell me what you
                 found?

                             MRS CHRISTIAN
                 Cash, stock certificates, and this...

     She takes something from her pocket, puts it on the desk: a
     plastic bag containing a short 8MM FILM on a plastic reel.

                             MRS CHRISTIAN
                 It's a film... of a girl being
                 murdered.

                             WELLES
                 I'm afraid I don't...

                             MRS CHRISTIAN
                 This is a movie showing a girl being
                 murdered.  She's sitting on a bed,
                 and a man rapes her... and he begins
                 to cut her with a knife...
                       (pause)
                 I only watched what I could.

     Welles picks up the film, looks at it.

                             MRS CHRISTIAN
                 I didn't know what to think.  I
                 can't tell you how horrible it's
                 been, to know this belonged to my
                 husband.  To know that he watched
                 this... this atrocity.  But, I can't
                 go to the police...

                             WELLES
                 Mrs. Christian... please, will you
                 sit down a moment?
                       (leads her to a chair)
                 I want you to listen carefully.
                 What you're talking about is a
                 "snuff film."  But, from what I
                 know, snuff films are a kind of...
                 urban myth.  Like, red light
                 district folklore.  There's no such
                 thing, I can assure you.

     Mrs. Christian shakes her head.

                             WELLES
                 Please, believe me.  This is
                 probably a stag film.  Simulated
                 rape.  Hard to stomach, and it might
                 seem real, but there are ways of
                 making it look realistic... fake
                 blood and special effects...

                             MRS CHRISTIAN
                 No.

                             WELLES
                 If you were to study it you'd see
                 the camera cutting away... you'd see
                 the tricks they can play...

                             MRS CHRISTIAN
                 I'm telling you it's not that.

                             WELLES
                 I'm sure it is.
                       (smiles)
                 It's probably something your husband
                 was given as a bad joke.  More than
                 likely he never even watched it.

                             MRS CHRISTIAN
                 Will you watch it and see for
                 yourself?

                             WELLES
                 Of course.  But, I'm certain it's
                 nothing to worry about.


     INT.  CHRISTIAN HOUSE, DINING ROOM -- NIGHT

     An 8MM PROJECTOR faces a wall.  Welles looks back to Mrs.
     Christian in the doorway.  Mrs. Christian leaves, shuts the
     door.  Darkness.  Welles turns on the projector and sits.
     The PROJECTOR CLATTERS, shooting bright images...

     ON THE WALL: FLASH FRAMES, over exposure, then... the grainy
     FILM is HAND HELD, constantly in motion, showing a skinny
     GIRL, 16 or 17, in a negligee, sitting on a bed in a
     nondescript room with little furniture.  Looks like a hotel
     room.  We only ever see three walls.  The once beautiful
     girl looks worn, drugged, dark circles under her eyes,
     staring blankly.  The CAMERA'S tungsten SPOTLIGHT casts
     long, shifting shadows as the camera moves, but the girl
     still stares oblivious.  The bed is wrapped in PLASTIC and
     DUCT TAPE.  The floor is covered by PLASTIC SHEETING...

     Welles watches, crossing his arms, already uncomfortable.

     ON THE WALL: a door opens behind the girl, looks like a
     bathroom, and a MASKED MAN enters.

     The Masked Man wears a garish, Mexican WRESTLING MASK with
     eye holes and a mouth.  The mask covers his entire head.
     He's naked except for red shorts, his body scrawny, oiled,
     pale.  The man goes to stand in front of the girl.  He seems
     to be saying something to her, but the film is silent and
     the ONLY SOUND is the PROJECTOR'S LOUD sprocket hole
     CLATTER.  It's all one long take.  The CAMERA MOVES to favor
     the girl...

     Welles sits straight in his chair, wary.

     ON THE WALL: Masked Man raises his open hand and SLAPS the
     girl, knocking her back on the bed...

     Welles grimaces.

     ON THE WALL: Masked Man pulls the girl back to a seated
     position.  The girl's like a rag doll, face reddened, eyes
     closed, but she remains upright.  Masked Man uses his thumbs
     to open her unseeing eyes.  He touches her mouth with his
     fingers, presses his lips to hers.  Then, Masked Man backs
     away, leaving frame, till the CAMERA MOVES to find Masked
     Man standing at a table with THREE large BOWIE KNIFES laid
     out.  Masked Man runs his fingers over the blades...

     Welles rises slowly, still watching.

     ON THE WALL: Masked Man selects a huge Bowie knife and moves
     back towards the girl...

     Welles crosses his arms tight, disbelieving, fearful.
     WE WILL NEVER SEE WHAT HAPPENS NEXT IN THE FILM, but Welles
     does.  In the flickering, reflected light, Welles backs
     involuntarily away from the horrible images, holding his
     fist to his mouth, breathing hard.

     Welles keeps backing away, till he's backed against a wall.
     The PROJECTOR'S CLATTERING.  Welles is sickened, sweating,
     still watching, till he finally shuts his eyes.

     INT.  CHRISTIAN HOUSE, ADJOINING ROOM -- NIGHT

     Silence.  Mrs. Christian sits waiting, troubled.
     The door to the dining room opens and Welles enters from the
     dark, visibly shaken.  Mrs. Christian watches him, her
     sorrow now shared.

                             WELLES
                 You... you need to go to the police.

                             MRS CHRISTIAN
                 I told you I can't, not yet.

                             WELLES
                 You don't have any other choice.

                             MRS CHRISTIAN
                       (stands, shakes her head)
                 No.  For me to live with the ruin of
                 my husband's name, I need know that
                 whoever did this will be punished.
                 If you can find them, I will take
                 their names to the police.  I'll say
                 my husband confessed on his death
                 bed. I'll say I didn't have courage
                 to come forward at first...

                             WELLES
                 It won't work like that.

                             MRS CHRISTIAN
                 Any evidence you collect can be
                 given to the police later,
                 anonymously.  I've thought about it
                 and there's no other way.  If you
                 can't find them... if the only thing
                 that comes from this film is that
                 this is all my husband will be
                 remembered for, well I can't let
                 that happen.  I'm telling you I
                 won't.  If there's no chance that
                 poor girl's memory can be served,
                 then I'll just have to spend my last
                 days trying to forget her.

     Welles sits, rests his head in his hands.

                             WELLES
                 I deal in divorce cases.  Corporate
                 investigations...

                             MRS CHRISTIAN
                 You've found missing persons before.

                             WELLES
                 Nothing remotely like this.

                             MRS CHRISTIAN
                 I know what I'm asking.  Your
                 compensation will be appropriate to
                 the risk.  You'll need cash to buy
                 information, and I'll provide it.
                       (pause)
                 I feel responsible, Mr. Welles.
                       (pause)
                 You saw what he did to her.

     Welles stands, torn apart and uncertain, looks back to the
     dining room where the projector sits idle.


     INT.  WELLES' HOUSE, BABY'S ROOM -- NIGHT

     Cindy is sound asleep in her crib.
     Welles is seated near, staring at his sleeping child.

     INT.  WELLES' HOUSE, BEDROOM -- NIGHT

     Welles digs in piles of SHOEBOXES and BOOKS on the floor of
     his cluttered closet, finds what he wants: a LOCK BOX.

     INT.  WELLES' HOUSE, KITCHEN -- NIGHT

     Welles twists the lock box dial's combination, opens the box
     to reveal his GUN, HOLSTER and CLEANING SUPPLIES.  Welles
     takes out the gun, cleaning it.  Amy watches.

                             WELLES
                 This is the mortgage.  This is
                 Cindy's college money.

                             AMY
                 I understand.

                             WELLES
                 Sometimes you can't know what I'm
                 doing.  It's better that way.

                             AMY
                 I know.

                             WELLES
                 It's a missing persons case... a
                 long shot.  I'll give it two months,
                 two months at most, then I'll be
                 back.  We'll take a vacation.

                             AMY
                 Why the gun?

                             WELLES
                 I'm not gonna need it.  I won't even
                 wear it.  It's a precaution.
                       (cleaning gun)
                 Don't worry about me.


     INT.  WELLES' HOUSE, OFFICE -- NIGHT

     Welles looks through one file cabinet.  He pulls out a FILE.
     It contains all sorts of POLICE ARTIST SKETCHES.  Welles
     finds one of a TEENAGE GIRL with dark hair, looks at it.

     Welles positions the sketch on his COPY MACHINE, hits copy.

     EXT.  WELLES' HOUSE, DRIVEWAY -- MORNING

     Welles loads BOXES and a SUITCASE into his car's back seat.

     Welles puts the lock box in the car's trunk, in a hiding
     place beside the spare tire.  He places a brown BRIEFCASE on
     top, covers them both with carpet.  He closes the trunk.

     EXT.  PENNSYLVANIA TURNPIKE -- MORNING

     Little traffic.  Welles' Ford races down the highway.


     EXT.  CLEVELAND CITYSCAPE -- ESTABLISHING -- DAY

     City skyline, overcast.  Looks like rain.

     TITLE:       Cleveland, Ohio

     EXT.  CLEVELAND STREETS -- DAY

     Welles' car moves slowly in a not-so-great neighborhood.
     Welles leans forward, peering through the windshield...

     An APARTMENT BUILDING'S crooked SIGN lists "WEEKLY RATES."

     INT.  WELLES' ROOM, CLEVELAND -- DAY

     Dingy room.  Welles locks the door, puts the chain on. His
     suitcase and boxes are on the bed.  He begins unpacking,
     taking a PHOTO ENLARGER from one box and an 8MM PROJECTOR.

     INT.  WELLES' ROOM, BATHROOM -- DAY

     The developer's on the toilet.  DEVELOPING PANS are on the
     floor, developer bath, stop bath and fixing bath, with
     BOTTLES of CHEMICALS and packages of PHOTO PAPER.  Welles
     uses tape and ALUMINUM FOIL to black-out a window.

     INT.  WELLES' ROOM -- DAY

     Pizza box on the bedside table.  Welles' suits hang in the
     closet.  Welles sits facing a small REEL TO REEL on a desk.
     He wears white gloves, handles the 8MM FILM, careful to hold
     it by the edges, holding it up to the light, squinting.

     Welles puts in a magnifying EYEPIECE, leaning close...

     WELLES' P.O.V. THROUGH MAGNIFYING LENS: studying the first
     few inches of exposed film, coming upon TINY LETTERS printed
     just below the sprocket holes: "SUPRAlux 544."
 
     INT.  WELLES' ROOM, BATHROOM -- DAY

     RED BULB in the light socket.  Welles threads the 8MM FILM
     into his enlarger, still in white gloves.

     He flicks the enlarger on, projecting a sideways IMAGE down
     onto the enlarger's baseboard, FOCUSING... it's the girl
     sitting on the bed, early in the snuff film.

     Welles makes an adjustment to the enlarger's lens; framing
     tighter on the girl's face, REFOCUSING.

     INT.  WELLES' ROOM -- NIGHT

     Welles comes out of the makeshift darkroom, holding a PHOTO
     of the girl.  He props the photo up on a dresser, stands
     looking at it.  Sad girl, staring forward.

     Welles goes to pick up his CELLULAR PHONE, dials.

                             WELLES
                       (into phone)
                 Hello, honey, it's me.
                       (listens)
                 I'm fine, how are you?

     Welles listens.  He turns to look at the girl's photo.

                                              FADE TO BLACK:

     EXT.  OFFICE BUILDING, MISSING PERSONS ARCHIVE -- DAY

     Nondescript.  "U.S. Resource Center for Missing Persons."

     INT.  MISSING PERSONS ARCHIVE, OFFICES -- DAY

     Small.  Cubicles.  Employees work phones and computers.
     BULLETIN BOARDS are covered in FAMILY PHOTOS, Polaroids and
     familiar "HAVE YOU SEEN ME?" missing person/children POSTERS.

     IN ONE CUBICLE, Welles opens his billfold, shows his
     identification: a laminated "LICENSED INVESTIGATOR,
     Commonwealth of Pennsylvania", with WELLES' PHOTO...

     The DIRECTOR of the center, a tired looking official in
     bifocals, studies the card.  Welles sits.

                             DIRECTOR
                 What can I do for you, Mr. Welles?

                             WELLES
                 Call me Tom.

                             DIRECTOR
                 Alright, Tom.

                             WELLES
                 What I'd like, very simply, is
                 access to your archive.  And, now I
                 understand this isn't something you
                 normally do for private citizens...

                             DIRECTOR
                 There are reasons for the way we do
                 things here.

                             WELLES
                 Absolutely.  Of course I'll abide by
                 whatever decision you make, but I'd
                 appreciate if you'll hear me out...

     The director sits ba

 


Écrivez-nous :
Ou retrouvez-nous sur les réseaux sociaux :
Les textes postés sur le forum sont publiés sous licence Creative Commons BY-NC-ND. Merci de la respecter :)

SMF 2.0.17 | SMF © 2017, Simple Machines | Terms and Policies
Manuscript © Blocweb

Page générée en 0.035 secondes avec 22 requêtes.