Topic: In honour of the great Charles Dickens...
A pair of hack wannabe screenwriters wrote a short film set in his fictional universe...
Hmmm... I just realised... This is fan fiction isnt it? Gulp... Oh well.
Anyhow. It's a short film script (or to be honest... a tarted up sequence from a feature we're writing.) Just seven pages long.
Let me know what you think.
.pdf for those that prefer. http://dl.dropbox.com/u/1408931/Bedlam% … novich.pdf
OVER BLACK
HEAVY RAIN. WIND HOWLS. Sounds like a hell of a storm.
EXT. OLD BRICK BUILDING - NIGHT
Looking more like a prison than that of a place of medicine.
The sign reads: BETHLEM ROYAL HOSPICE. Most call it BEDLAM.
LIGHTENING STRIKES followed by a loud crack of THUNDER.
INT. BEDLAM - LOWER LEVELS - SAME
CANDLES barely illuminate the gloom of a long, dark corridor.
The ground wet. Water dripping down from the storm outside.
Keys JINGLE, A DOOR UNLOCKS and SLOWLY CREEKS OPEN.
VOICE (O.C.)
You sure about this? All you'll get
is gibberish. People usually wanna
see the freaks on D. Much more
entertaining if you ask me.
SECOND VOICE (O.C.)
Yes well. I didn't.
VOICE (O.C.)
Alright. Guvnor. Just saying. Go on
then. He's down there at the end.
You keep to the left mind, you hear
me? You stay away from those bars.
SECOND VOICE (O.C.)
I understand.
VOICE (O.C.)
Ten minutes. I'll wait right here.
A pair of shiny shoes step into frame. They pause for a
moment then begin to make their way down the corridor.
The shoes belong to a tall man with stern face. His hat under
his arm and a notebook in his hand. He also carries a lamp.
His name is ROBERT. He's in his late 40's.
He keeps to the left, passing a half dozen grotty cells. The
lamp turning their occupants into moaning, squirming shadows.
Finally he reaches the final cell at the end of the corridor.
He moves the lamp and sees a CHAIR sat against the far wall.
Robert drags it towards the cell and takes a seat.
He now sits in front a dismal little cell with a candle
burning in the corner. It's pathetic glow gives little light,
warmth or comfort.
Is the cell empty? It looks it.. Robert leans in closer.
Searching for someone hidden within the darkness.
A LONG QUIET BEAT and then... MOVEMENT.
Robert jumps. Crashes back into his seat. He relaxes a little
when he hears a mocking snicker come from within the cell.
OLD MAN
Scared he is. Scared of an old Man.
(beat)
He doesn't know fear. He doesn't
know dread.
Annoyed now, Robert sits up in his chair.
ROBERT
I understand you don't like
visitors.
OLD MAN
(quiet ranting)
Visitors? Ha! I've had enough
visitors. Don't need visitors.
ROBERT
My name's Robert. I don't expect
you'll remember me.
(beat)
It's been more than twenty years
since we last spoke. But I once
considered you a friend. Before
that an employer.
(beat)
I'm here because I need your help.
OLD MAN
Bah!
More shuffling in the cell. Now our eyes are adjusting, we
may be able to pick out features of the prisoner. Long grey
hair. A screwed up old face. A pair of crazy old eyes.
ROBERT
There have been murders. Vicious
killings.
OLD MAN
Nn..n..n.. None of my business.
Leave me alone.
Robert holds up the notebook.
ROBERT
I am now a detective with Scotland
Yard. I was hoping you could...
OLD MAN
(shouting)
Go!
ROBERT
(becoming frustrated)
There is a connection. I think you
may be able to help.
OLD MAN
Go now.
(to himself)
He wants my help. Nobody helps me.
ROBERT
Damn it man. Did you hear me?
People are being killed.
Robert begins to flick through the notebook.
OLD MAN
Nothing to do with me... I've been
here. Twenty years! I've been here.
You hear me? Twenty long years.
They didn't believe me. Told them
but they didn't believe me. Sent me
hear for speaking the truth!
Robert finds his page and begins to read.
ROBERT
Langfield, two hundred shillings.
OLD MAN
Nobody ever helped me.
ROBERT
Beddington three hundred shillings.
OLD MAN
When I did it turned out to be a
curse! A damn trick of a curse.
ROBERT
Radcliff two hundred shillings.
Mays, six hundred shillings.
Atherton four hundred... Lines one
thousand shill...
OLD MAN
Atherton...
Robert stops reading from the notebook and looks up.
MAN
Atherton.... Atherton... Six
hundred. Six hundred shillings! Not
a penny less.
(shouting now)
Six hundred shillings!
Robert raises the lamp. Checks in his notebook. He runs his
finger down a list of names and numbers until finding the
name Atherton. The figure next to it is indeed six hundred.
Roberts eyes light up. The old Man remembers!
ROBERT
I knew you would remember. You
never forgot a debt.
The old man retreats back into the shadow of his cell. As if
realising he's let slip too much.
ROBERT (CONT'D)
These names. These people. They're
all dead. Each and every on of them
murdered in a most gruesome manner.
Each and every one of them owed you
money...
(beat)
Until you became...
The Old Man stops dead. Leans just a little bit closer.
OLD MAN
Say it.
Robert holds his tongue.
OLD MAN (CONT'D)
Insane!
Robert ponders. Needs to get the word right.
ROBERT
Unfortunate. I was to say
unfortunate.
OLD MAN
Humbug! I live in a Madhouse.
ROBERT
All these souls were in your debt.
OLD MAN
(shouting now)
I've been here for twenty years!
ROBERT
(shouting back)
Those people are dead!
OLD MAN
Twenty years! Twenty years! But I
won't go. I won't see that grave.
ROBERT
You are the only connection. My
only lead.
(beat)
Ebenezer I need your help.
A long silent beat. Once again The Old Man disappears into
the shadows.
Robert raises his lamp and steps closer to the cell.
OLD MAN (O.C.)
They don't call me Ebenezer.
Robert strains to look into the gloom of the cell --
-- AND JUMPS OUT OF HIS DAMN SKIN as the Old Man emerges just
INCHES from his face. Eyes, once seemingly lost madness, now
bright and clear but with a long held fear...
OLD MAN (CONT'D)
They call me SCROOGE!
Robert, realising now that he forgot the advice the guard
gave him about standing too close, tries to step back.
But Scrooge's frail old hands reach through the bars and hold
onto Roberts jacket with a unexpected strength.
Robert drops his lamp sending it spinning and illuminating
the room in arching beams of light.
ROBERT
(suddenly worried)
Let me go!
He looks back to the Guard who is now gone from the end of
the corridor. Robert is completely alone with the Old Man.
ROBERT (CONT'D)
Ebenezer. I said let me go.
Scrooge looks Robert up and down. As if recognizing him for
the first time.
SCROOGE
My old Clerk has grown big and
strong. And who would have thought
he'd become a lackey of the Old
Bailey.
ROBERT
I am an officer of the Law!
Scrooge snickers. His eyes have snapped back to insanity.
Robert continues to try and break free from his grip.
SCROOGE
And you are wrong Cratchit. You are
DEAD wrong.
For the first time Robert stops trying to break free from the
crazy old man's vice like grip.
ROBERT
Wrong how?
He lets Scrooge pulls him closer still.
SCROOGE
Those debts were not mine...
ROBERT
(interrupting, frustrated)
They were taken from your own
books!
SCROOGE
(continuing)
...those debts were not mine alone.
You forget, young Cratchit.
(whispering)
There was another.
Robert seems lost. Thinks. A long beat.
ROBERT
(remembering)
Marley?
Scrooge nods.
ROBERT (CONT'D)
Jacob Marley has been dead longer
than you've been incarcerated.
For the first time Scrooge lets slip a smile. Robert finally
breaks free, straightens his jacket, picks up the lamp.
SCROOGE
Dead but not gone.
ROBERT
You expect me to investigate a dead
man. I have no time for phoney
tales of I phantoms and the like. I
came here for help.
SCROOGE
Then you are indeed just talking to
a madman in a madhouse in a city
long gone mad.
And like that the Old Man once again retreats into the
shadows.
VOICE (O.S.)
You okay Govner?
Robert looks back down the corridor, nods to the guard we
never see.
SCROOGE
(a voice from the
darkness)
You investigate your crimes. When
you are ready to talk to a
madman... I'll be right here. I've
enjoyed talking to an old friend.
Head spinning. He leans down. Picks up his notebook and hat.
ROBERT
Goodbye Ebenzer. I don't expect
I'll ever set foot in this building
again.
And like that Robert walks off down the dark and dingy
corridor leaving us with Scrooges dark and dingy cell.
We push in slowly.. Once again seeing The Old Man's face in
the gloom. Bright eyes seemingly sane once again. A sad smile
on his face.
SCROOGE
Oh you will Bob Cratchit. You will.
And with another CRACK OF THUNDER:
FADE TO BLACK:Last edited by Dean (2012-02-07 23:06:42)
30 pounds would have been about a year's wages for a good job (Cratchit made 39 pounds a year as clerk), so it's hard to imagine too many people owing Scrooge that much. Scrooge & Marley's was some unspecified sort of investment business, probably a bit of import/export and commodities investing, real estate, and smalltime moneylending (he is "welcome" at the London Stock Exchange and has a warehouse, probably for loan collateral and wholesale goods).
)
Well, SOMEBODY must have been importing it, and it was perfectly legal. It had a weird status as shameful foreign vice and panacea (including for colicky babies!).