Hey Listen,
I know that we're still doing a run and everything and I know that this kind of Thank You Note is usually reserved for closing night parties, or Tony Awards' after parties in swanky New York Penthouses but I'm bursting at the seems here! I mean the comparisons with Scorsese, Kazan, Stanislavsky are patent as far as I'm concerned.
There is one specific moment that I think was pure genius. You know what I'm referring to?
Of course you do!
What a curve ball! I never thought my neighbor would have had this genius: You take the boring, mundane and rote little piece of business of my character coming home from work and backing his motorcycle down the driveway and into the garage and turn it into a mythopoeic struggle for his life just by throwing sand all over the driveway!
Genius.
I wonder what acting challenges I'll be surprised by next?
Gratefully,
Dan
Monday, September 22, 2008
Monday, September 15, 2008
Starring.
EXT. We hear COLDPLAY’S “DON’T PANIC” as we PULL OUT from a void, black as pitch, as vast and borderless as OUTER space to reveal SWIRLING SPIRALS like GALAXIES of kaleidoscopic radiance that dazzle and beguile the sight with all of the brilliance of a rainbow-faceted jewel. Geometries of hue and chroma pop and squint in an ebullient dance as we PULL OUT to reveal a MUD PUDDLE with dark spectrums of OIL SLICKS as we PULL OUT further to reveal…
EXT. (NON-DIAGETIC MUSIC STOPS) THE LINDEN COGENERATION PLANT along the NEW JERSEY TURNPIKE. Automation systems, valves and measurement dials, instruments the size of busses and oil tankers groan and hiss like the ventricles of a BULBOUS MECHANICAL ORGAN. Endless folds of pipe, ductwork and wire, twisted, coiled, bunched and organized work their way around forests of cylindrical metal, scaffold like structures and soot-stained smokestacks. The SUN, a blazing roar and devouring red abscess sets through a CHEMICAL HAZE which hangs over the plant like bar-room smoke in hell. We see ONE MAN standing on a metal CATWALK that straddles the span of three large PULP VATS. The man standing at the edge of the cat-walk is nattily dressed and in his bearing we sense a casual entitlement, ease, élan and elegance. The air of a man who wants for nothing and has lived his life far above the HOT STRUGGLES of the POOR. Categories of mephistophelean intelligence play around the thin cold smile on his lips as he turns to address a SECOND MAN who is approaching with unsure steps across the CATWALK. This is DAN, slightly overweight with EMOTIONAL PROBLEMS, he is wearing KOHL’S KHAKI’S, an OSCAR MEYER WIENER promotional T.SHIRT and is suffering a weather-induced contraction of an old surgical scar from a HERNIA OPERATION which causes him a great deal of PAIN in his CROTCH AREA.
NATTILY DRESSED MAN
Well, (he pauses to light a cigarette)…look who it is. (The SMILE again)
DAN
(Through a RED BANDANNA which he holds over his mouth, which has CAMP COSBY written in WHITE LETTERS, which he took from his young cousin BEN.)
Huh?
NATTILY DRESSED MAN
(SMILE Fading)
I said (LOUDER) I said ‘LOOK WHO IT IS’
DAN
Oh yeah. ‘Look who it is!’ Yeah.
EXT. (NON-DIAGETIC MUSIC STOPS) THE LINDEN COGENERATION PLANT along the NEW JERSEY TURNPIKE. Automation systems, valves and measurement dials, instruments the size of busses and oil tankers groan and hiss like the ventricles of a BULBOUS MECHANICAL ORGAN. Endless folds of pipe, ductwork and wire, twisted, coiled, bunched and organized work their way around forests of cylindrical metal, scaffold like structures and soot-stained smokestacks. The SUN, a blazing roar and devouring red abscess sets through a CHEMICAL HAZE which hangs over the plant like bar-room smoke in hell. We see ONE MAN standing on a metal CATWALK that straddles the span of three large PULP VATS. The man standing at the edge of the cat-walk is nattily dressed and in his bearing we sense a casual entitlement, ease, élan and elegance. The air of a man who wants for nothing and has lived his life far above the HOT STRUGGLES of the POOR. Categories of mephistophelean intelligence play around the thin cold smile on his lips as he turns to address a SECOND MAN who is approaching with unsure steps across the CATWALK. This is DAN, slightly overweight with EMOTIONAL PROBLEMS, he is wearing KOHL’S KHAKI’S, an OSCAR MEYER WIENER promotional T.SHIRT and is suffering a weather-induced contraction of an old surgical scar from a HERNIA OPERATION which causes him a great deal of PAIN in his CROTCH AREA.
NATTILY DRESSED MAN
Well, (he pauses to light a cigarette)…look who it is. (The SMILE again)
DAN
(Through a RED BANDANNA which he holds over his mouth, which has CAMP COSBY written in WHITE LETTERS, which he took from his young cousin BEN.)
Huh?
NATTILY DRESSED MAN
(SMILE Fading)
I said (LOUDER) I said ‘LOOK WHO IT IS’
DAN
Oh yeah. ‘Look who it is!’ Yeah.
(We begin to hear faintly, a HEARTBEAT, and the song “RUNNING WITH THE DEVIL” by Van Halen.)
NATTILY DRESSED MAN
You don’t seem surprised to see me!
DAN
(THE HEARTBEAT CONTINUES TO GROW IN VOLUME)
Uh, nah, You know I used to drive past here on the way to New York when I was dating whatserface. It always caught my eye because I would fantasize about what kind of life I would have had if I was the kind of guy that was good at math and maybe went to school for engineering or something like that…AND if I wasn’t stuck in some car with a moody woman who, despite her INSISTENCE that she knew exactly what she wanted and that’s what separated her from the rest of the crowd, had no idea what she wanted and she secretly hated men. She would stare out at the world from behind those icy, bitch eyes and curse the world for not IMMEDIATELY conforming to her will, and for being "so stupid". Do you know that she would actually say "Thank God I'm not like people." – God, I wasted so much time, I mean so much time and she – You know I think she is THE REASON I had I.B.S.
NATTILY DRESSED MAN
(CUTTING IN)
Christ Almighty, shut the fuck up. Do you know why I picked this location?
DAN
I imagine I picked it.
A TWO SHOT. Two men bookend the frame, the catwalk a straight line between them, plumes of noxious smoke curl about their feet like tumbleweed.
DAN & NATTILY DRESSED MAN
(SIMULTANEOUSLY)
What’s that supposed to mean? (Beat) What do you mean? What do I mean? (Beat)
We SMASH CUT to a CLOSE UP of NATTILY DRESSED MAN, a single bead of sweat rolling across a THROBBING VEIN on his LEFT TEMPLE. A SMASH CUT to DAN, breathing heavily, SWEATING PROFUSELY. EXTREME CLOSE UP of NATTILY DRESSED MAN, eyes blazing with a sly preternatural cunning. EXTREME CLOSE UP of DAN, bags under his glassy, HUNG OVER eyes. THE HEARTBEAT is now A DEAFENING ROAR, and as it begins to CRESCENDO we cut to…
INT. A BEDROOM IN ROXBOROUGH, a 27 year old man wakes up in a cold sweat from a fever dream. His BOWELS are a fluid, acrid mass. His feelings toward himself, his life, at sea. He doesn’t move an inch, but we see the violent wrench from the nether-regions of his subconscious entirely in his eyes which crack open, violently like GRAVES during the RESURRECTION.
DAN
(VOMITING THE WORDS)
Oh shit. (Beat) I thought that he was going to make me listen to “Songs for a New World”
VOICE
Ay thoot’ee mayt too!
A SCOTTISH VOICE, as thick as Molasses and as guttural as a TUVAN THROAT SONG, seems to come from everywhere and nowhere. The young man sits BOLT UPRIGHT IN HIS BED and cannot find his voice as he tries to locate THE SCOTTISH MAN, who sits in a cornflower blue reclining chair near the DOOR to his BEDROOM in HIS PARENTS HOUSE. The YOUNG MAN, DAN tries to turn a light on as….
SCOTTISH MAN
Ass ye’kehn see the lais’eh’no gunt tee werek…The lais, the lump, th’iliktrikal kahn-dull.
DAN
What?
SCOTTISH MAN
They kinnuh hear ya’neither.
DAN
What?
SCOTTISH MAN
Widduh ye like tuh myeet muh burruds?
DAN
Your What?
SCOTTISH MAN
Muh burruds, muh burruds, ye know, tweet tweet…burruds.
DAN
Oh, birds.
SCOTTISH MAN
Thessuhwudeyesed. Aye. Burruds. (Beat) Dinnae be efreed. Thess essa revol-yushun uff the mynd.
On REVOLUTION OF THE MIND the far wall which faces the street begins to crack and moan as the dry-wall, lathe and plaster begin to shift and re-align. They SLOWLY separate at the center into FOUR DISCRETE SEGMENTS like the PETALS OF A FLOWER until the ENTIRE WALL has peeled back and curled itself into it’s CORNERS. There is a silence, relentlessly patient which lasts several moments. During the METAMORPHOSIS OF THE BEDROOM the SCOTTISH MAN got up from his seat near THE DOOR and began thumbing through an INTERLINEAR ENGLISH-GREEK translation of the NEW TESTAMENT which he quickly abandoned for a copy of WATCHMEN.
NOTHING IS HAPPENING.
DAN
(Sigh)
SCOTTISH MAN
Not all petunias have the pretty pollen.
DAN
What?
SCOTTISH MAN
(Producing something that looks like a PIPE and a SLIDE WHISTLE) Enough’a’thess shyte. (Sounds a lilting, and high pitched call) Welter-Wayt! Turbulence!
TWO ENORMOUS HOMING PIGEONS, the size of cars SWOOP down from the NET OF STARS, the O’ER HANGING FIRMAMENT as soundlessly as the WIND in the GRASS and PERCH on the TRUNKS of TWO TREES which COMPLAIN a little under the burden.
SCOTTISH MAN
Ya know when a star dies?
(His accent now gone)
DAN
Yeah, a supernova.
SCOTTISH MAN
All Gold, ever. Was made in a supernova. Gold is the photograph of a dying star.
DAN
(Making a bad joke) and Plumbium is a Comet's used Condom.(sigh) Sorry. Wow. To be a star. The Promise of the Possibility of Living Forever.
NATTILY DRESSED MAN
You don’t seem surprised to see me!
DAN
(THE HEARTBEAT CONTINUES TO GROW IN VOLUME)
Uh, nah, You know I used to drive past here on the way to New York when I was dating whatserface. It always caught my eye because I would fantasize about what kind of life I would have had if I was the kind of guy that was good at math and maybe went to school for engineering or something like that…AND if I wasn’t stuck in some car with a moody woman who, despite her INSISTENCE that she knew exactly what she wanted and that’s what separated her from the rest of the crowd, had no idea what she wanted and she secretly hated men. She would stare out at the world from behind those icy, bitch eyes and curse the world for not IMMEDIATELY conforming to her will, and for being "so stupid". Do you know that she would actually say "Thank God I'm not like people." – God, I wasted so much time, I mean so much time and she – You know I think she is THE REASON I had I.B.S.
NATTILY DRESSED MAN
(CUTTING IN)
Christ Almighty, shut the fuck up. Do you know why I picked this location?
DAN
I imagine I picked it.
A TWO SHOT. Two men bookend the frame, the catwalk a straight line between them, plumes of noxious smoke curl about their feet like tumbleweed.
DAN & NATTILY DRESSED MAN
(SIMULTANEOUSLY)
What’s that supposed to mean? (Beat) What do you mean? What do I mean? (Beat)
We SMASH CUT to a CLOSE UP of NATTILY DRESSED MAN, a single bead of sweat rolling across a THROBBING VEIN on his LEFT TEMPLE. A SMASH CUT to DAN, breathing heavily, SWEATING PROFUSELY. EXTREME CLOSE UP of NATTILY DRESSED MAN, eyes blazing with a sly preternatural cunning. EXTREME CLOSE UP of DAN, bags under his glassy, HUNG OVER eyes. THE HEARTBEAT is now A DEAFENING ROAR, and as it begins to CRESCENDO we cut to…
INT. A BEDROOM IN ROXBOROUGH, a 27 year old man wakes up in a cold sweat from a fever dream. His BOWELS are a fluid, acrid mass. His feelings toward himself, his life, at sea. He doesn’t move an inch, but we see the violent wrench from the nether-regions of his subconscious entirely in his eyes which crack open, violently like GRAVES during the RESURRECTION.
DAN
(VOMITING THE WORDS)
Oh shit. (Beat) I thought that he was going to make me listen to “Songs for a New World”
VOICE
Ay thoot’ee mayt too!
A SCOTTISH VOICE, as thick as Molasses and as guttural as a TUVAN THROAT SONG, seems to come from everywhere and nowhere. The young man sits BOLT UPRIGHT IN HIS BED and cannot find his voice as he tries to locate THE SCOTTISH MAN, who sits in a cornflower blue reclining chair near the DOOR to his BEDROOM in HIS PARENTS HOUSE. The YOUNG MAN, DAN tries to turn a light on as….
SCOTTISH MAN
Ass ye’kehn see the lais’eh’no gunt tee werek…The lais, the lump, th’iliktrikal kahn-dull.
DAN
What?
SCOTTISH MAN
They kinnuh hear ya’neither.
DAN
What?
SCOTTISH MAN
Widduh ye like tuh myeet muh burruds?
DAN
Your What?
SCOTTISH MAN
Muh burruds, muh burruds, ye know, tweet tweet…burruds.
DAN
Oh, birds.
SCOTTISH MAN
Thessuhwudeyesed. Aye. Burruds. (Beat) Dinnae be efreed. Thess essa revol-yushun uff the mynd.
On REVOLUTION OF THE MIND the far wall which faces the street begins to crack and moan as the dry-wall, lathe and plaster begin to shift and re-align. They SLOWLY separate at the center into FOUR DISCRETE SEGMENTS like the PETALS OF A FLOWER until the ENTIRE WALL has peeled back and curled itself into it’s CORNERS. There is a silence, relentlessly patient which lasts several moments. During the METAMORPHOSIS OF THE BEDROOM the SCOTTISH MAN got up from his seat near THE DOOR and began thumbing through an INTERLINEAR ENGLISH-GREEK translation of the NEW TESTAMENT which he quickly abandoned for a copy of WATCHMEN.
NOTHING IS HAPPENING.
DAN
(Sigh)
SCOTTISH MAN
Not all petunias have the pretty pollen.
DAN
What?
SCOTTISH MAN
(Producing something that looks like a PIPE and a SLIDE WHISTLE) Enough’a’thess shyte. (Sounds a lilting, and high pitched call) Welter-Wayt! Turbulence!
TWO ENORMOUS HOMING PIGEONS, the size of cars SWOOP down from the NET OF STARS, the O’ER HANGING FIRMAMENT as soundlessly as the WIND in the GRASS and PERCH on the TRUNKS of TWO TREES which COMPLAIN a little under the burden.
SCOTTISH MAN
Ya know when a star dies?
(His accent now gone)
DAN
Yeah, a supernova.
SCOTTISH MAN
All Gold, ever. Was made in a supernova. Gold is the photograph of a dying star.
DAN
(Making a bad joke) and Plumbium is a Comet's used Condom.(sigh) Sorry. Wow. To be a star. The Promise of the Possibility of Living Forever.
SCOTTISH MAN
Time to fly.
Thursday, September 4, 2008
Cheesesteak Fishermen
"Hey...Did you catch anything? Get any bites or anything like that?"
"Uh...Nah"
" ..."
" ..."
"Do you wanna getta Cheesesteak?
"Yeah, this sucks."
"Uh...Nah"
" ..."
" ..."
"Do you wanna getta Cheesesteak?
"Yeah, this sucks."
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