427 lines
15 KiB
Plaintext
427 lines
15 KiB
Plaintext
|
|
### ###
|
|
### ###
|
|
### #### ### ### ### ####
|
|
### ### ##### ### ###
|
|
### ### ### ### ###
|
|
### ### ##### ### ###
|
|
########## ### ### ##########
|
|
### ###
|
|
### ###
|
|
|
|
Underground eXperts United
|
|
|
|
Presents...
|
|
|
|
####### ## ## ####### # # ####### ####### #######
|
|
## ## ## ## ##### # ## # ## ## ##
|
|
#### ## ## #### # # #### #### #######
|
|
## ## ## ## ##### # ## # ## ##
|
|
## ## ####### ####### # # ####### ####### #######
|
|
|
|
[ Screenplay: The Last Bullet ] [ By The GNN ]
|
|
|
|
|
|
____________________________________________________________________
|
|
____________________________________________________________________
|
|
|
|
|
|
THE LAST BULLET
|
|
|
|
Screenplay adapted from the short story "Angel" by The GNN
|
|
(c) Underground eXperts United and Underground Motion Entertainment, 1996
|
|
|
|
The Underground Motion Entertainment crew are
|
|
Phearless, H.C Andersson, Martinique, Joseph, Knyttet and The GNN
|
|
|
|
screen shots are available at http://www.lysator.liu.se/~chief
|
|
or in uXu file 360
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
EXT. BRIGHT LIGHTS, BIG CITY - NIGHT
|
|
|
|
(The camera pans a city by night, until it reaches a balcony on the top
|
|
floor of a high building. We see a MAN (NATHAN) balance on the edge of the
|
|
rail, looking at the street several storeys below.
|
|
|
|
EXT. NATHAN'S BALCONY - NIGHT
|
|
|
|
(NATHAN breathes fast, staring at the roaring traffic on the street below.
|
|
The camera cuts between the street and NATHAN for a while. We notice that
|
|
he is holding a paper in his hand. After a while, he brings up the paper
|
|
to his face and reads, in silence.
|
|
|
|
Finished reading, NATHAN closes his eyes. He drops the paper and it floats
|
|
away in the wind. Then he leans forward and falls over the rail. We see him
|
|
fall down, but we never get to see him hit the ground.)
|
|
|
|
CUT TO:
|
|
|
|
(opening credits)
|
|
|
|
CUT TO:
|
|
|
|
EXT. A BALCONY - NIGHT
|
|
|
|
(NATHAN opens his eyes and discovers that he on a dirty mattress on a
|
|
balcony. He looks around, very confused. He gets to his feet and looks
|
|
over the rail. It is only a couple of storeys to the street, this he cannot
|
|
be on his own balcony.)
|
|
|
|
NATHAN
|
|
What the...
|
|
|
|
(NATHAN hits the rail with his fist, pretty mad/puzzled over the fact that
|
|
he is not dead. Then he turns around and enters the unknown apartment.)
|
|
|
|
CUT TO:
|
|
|
|
INT. SOMEONE'S APARTMENT - NIGHT
|
|
|
|
(NATHAN is in a pitch dark room. He notices light from a slightly opened
|
|
door in the other end. He walks toward it, but stumbles over something a
|
|
couple of times.)
|
|
|
|
NATHAN
|
|
(in the dark)
|
|
Ouch! Damn!
|
|
|
|
(NATHAN gets to the door, opens it and enters...)
|
|
|
|
CUT TO:
|
|
|
|
INT. MICHAEL'S KITCHEN - NIGHT
|
|
|
|
(We see another MAN (MICHAEL) sit by a table in a kitchen. He his holding a
|
|
gun in his right hand, pointing the barrel at his head. He cocks the gun
|
|
and is about to kill himself when...)
|
|
|
|
NATHAN
|
|
Ahem.
|
|
|
|
(MICHAEL turns to NATHAN, very fast.)
|
|
|
|
(pause)
|
|
|
|
Hello.
|
|
|
|
(pause)
|
|
|
|
How's it going?
|
|
|
|
MICHAEL
|
|
(shocked, lowering the gun)
|
|
Who the hell are you?
|
|
|
|
NATHAN
|
|
Just someone passing by, from the top floor.
|
|
|
|
(MICHAEL points with a finger in the air, opens his mouth, but cannot come
|
|
up with something to say. His mouth remains open for several seconds.)
|
|
|
|
NATHAN
|
|
Oh, for Christ sake, close the mouth. You look ridiculous.
|
|
|
|
MICHAEL
|
|
(muttering)
|
|
Ridiculous. So darn true. I'm ridiculous. To the bone.
|
|
|
|
(NATHAN points at the gun in MICHAEL's hand.)
|
|
|
|
NATHAN
|
|
Up to something special tonight?
|
|
|
|
MICHAEL
|
|
Gonna kill myself.
|
|
|
|
NATHAN
|
|
(surprised)
|
|
Really? What a strange coincidence...
|
|
|
|
MICHAEL
|
|
...lost the fucking job, lost my fucking wife, no need to continue playing
|
|
this worthless game they call "life". No way. No way. It's time. Got one
|
|
bullet. Gonna use it.
|
|
|
|
NATHAN
|
|
(to himself)
|
|
One bullet?
|
|
|
|
(to MICHAEL)
|
|
Well, uh, I kinda know how you feel...
|
|
|
|
MICHAEL
|
|
(angrily)
|
|
Screw you! You know jack shit!
|
|
|
|
(MICHAEL lowers his head, in agony. For a short while, NATHAN does now
|
|
know what to say.)
|
|
|
|
NATHAN
|
|
(pedagogically)
|
|
Listen to me...
|
|
|
|
(MICHAEL looks up.)
|
|
|
|
NATHAN
|
|
I know, for a fact, everything there's to know about failures in life...
|
|
|
|
(chuckling)
|
|
Oh, jeez, I _really_ do...
|
|
|
|
(back to normal voice)
|
|
You wouldn't believe me if I told you about... well, uh, never mind.
|
|
Anyway, when it comes to failures, I'm the goddamn king. We're talking
|
|
Mister Failure Supreme here, with cheese and shit on top, oh man, you
|
|
cannot imagine...
|
|
|
|
(MICHAEL pushes a chair in NATHAN's direction. NATHAN walks to it and
|
|
takes a seat by the table, facing MICHAEL. MICHAEL puts a cigarette in
|
|
the mouth.)
|
|
|
|
MICHAEL
|
|
You want one?
|
|
|
|
NATHAN
|
|
Nope. They kill.
|
|
|
|
(MICHAEL lights the cigarette.)
|
|
|
|
NATHAN
|
|
What's your name?
|
|
|
|
(MICHAEL exhales a cloud of smoke, but does not reply.)
|
|
|
|
NATHAN
|
|
(slowly, as to a little child)
|
|
Your... _name?_
|
|
|
|
(MICHAEL just stares at the wall, saying nothing.)
|
|
|
|
NATHAN
|
|
(yelling)
|
|
Your name!
|
|
|
|
MICHAEL
|
|
(puzzled)
|
|
Uh, what? My... name?
|
|
|
|
NATHAN
|
|
Yes, I do believe you have a name? Or were you born without one?
|
|
|
|
MICHAEL
|
|
Michael... Michael Glover.
|
|
|
|
NATHAN
|
|
Nathan Jones. Pleased to meet you.
|
|
|
|
(NATHAN shakes MICHAEL's LEFT hand, since MICHAEL is still holding the gun
|
|
in his right hand.)
|
|
|
|
NATHAN
|
|
The circumstances could be better, indeed, but hey - that's life.
|
|
|
|
MICHAEL
|
|
(skeptically)
|
|
Life?
|
|
|
|
NATHAN
|
|
(nodding)
|
|
Uh-huh.
|
|
|
|
MICHAEL
|
|
(silently, to no one)
|
|
Nathan...
|
|
|
|
NATHAN
|
|
Yes, my name is Nathan.
|
|
|
|
MICHAEL
|
|
(silently)
|
|
...Jones...
|
|
|
|
NATHAN
|
|
(ironically)
|
|
Come on! What's your damn problem! Can't you get my name into your cramped
|
|
little mind, hmm? What are you, some kind of retard?
|
|
|
|
(pointing at the gun in MICHAEL's hand)
|
|
Oh, you _are._ You _are._ Trying to commit suicide. How low can you go?
|
|
|
|
MICHAEL
|
|
What the hell...
|
|
|
|
NATHAN
|
|
I'm obviously in the kitchen belonging to a complete freak.
|
|
|
|
(MICHAEL reacts.)
|
|
|
|
(quoting MICHAEL with the voice of a jerk)
|
|
Gonna kill myself, sob sob, lost my job, sob sob, don't wanna play the
|
|
game they call life, oh I'm really a socially realistic poet, wow, got
|
|
a gun with just one bullet...
|
|
|
|
(normal voice)
|
|
... speaking about losers, how the hell is it possible for you to have a
|
|
gun _but just one bullet?_ Are you some fucking cheap bastard?
|
|
|
|
MICHAEL
|
|
(sudden rage)
|
|
You motherfucker! Who the hell are you?!
|
|
|
|
NATHAN
|
|
Want to hear my name _again?_
|
|
|
|
MICHAEL
|
|
What the hell are you doing here? Is this...
|
|
|
|
NATHAN
|
|
Just passing by, as said...
|
|
|
|
MICHAEL
|
|
...some kind of _sick dream?_
|
|
|
|
NATHAN
|
|
No, no, but there's a _sick freak_ in this apartment, and it's not me...
|
|
|
|
(MICHAEL assaults NATHAN with a blow to the face. NATHAN falls to
|
|
the floor.)
|
|
|
|
MICHAEL
|
|
Asshole!
|
|
|
|
(Slowly, NATHAN gets to his feet, bleeding from the nose.)
|
|
|
|
NATHAN
|
|
(laughing)
|
|
Oh man, oh man...
|
|
|
|
(NATHAN rise the fallen chair and sits down once again.)
|
|
|
|
MICHAEL
|
|
(looking in another direction)
|
|
I can't believe this. I just cannot believe it.
|
|
|
|
NATHAN
|
|
Believe what? That the truth is that you're insane? Suicide. How lame.
|
|
|
|
MICHAEL
|
|
I'm not insane, shithead!
|
|
|
|
NATHAN
|
|
Then, what are you?
|
|
|
|
MICHAEL
|
|
(trying to explain)
|
|
Well, I'm.. I'm... it's like this.. I.. I... oh, shit!
|
|
|
|
(In frustration, MICHAEL throws the cigarette to the floor.)
|
|
|
|
NATHAN
|
|
Hard, huh? Even worse: if you use that gun to kill yourself, you'll
|
|
definitely be _nothing._ Nothing. Nothing at all. Just a dead loser.
|
|
Are you a loser?
|
|
|
|
MICHAEL
|
|
Considering the fact that I lost my job today I really...
|
|
|
|
NATHAN
|
|
(interrupting)
|
|
So did I. So what? Do I look like I want to kill myself? No, because I've
|
|
understood a few things in life. And I know for a fact that death is not,
|
|
and never will be, the final solution.
|
|
|
|
(MICHAEL puts his hand with the gun on the table, listening.)
|
|
|
|
NATHAN
|
|
Life is wonderful. I swear, it really is. There are so many things to do,
|
|
so many experiences to make.
|
|
|
|
(referring to MICHAEL)
|
|
...so many strange encounters to participate in. Why die? Why? There is
|
|
no reason. No reason at all.
|
|
|
|
(MICHAEL does not reply.)
|
|
|
|
There is no reason to die, you hear me?
|
|
|
|
(short pause)
|
|
|
|
MICHAEL
|
|
I...
|
|
|
|
NATHAN
|
|
(nodding)
|
|
Come on. Say it. Say it.
|
|
|
|
MICHAEL
|
|
I'm.. so sorry.. I don't know...
|
|
|
|
NATHAN
|
|
No need to be. Live! Live! Don't think about the past! Live and love today!
|
|
Enjoy your life! This is your only chance to really do something fine, so
|
|
why waste it all with the help of a bullet? Why blow the only piece of mind
|
|
you will ever get all over the wall-paper? Don't do it! Live!
|
|
|
|
MICHAEL
|
|
(whispering)
|
|
Yes... yes...
|
|
|
|
NATHAN
|
|
A man may be a king for a day, and a fool for a lifetime. So? It just
|
|
doesn't matter. But those who tries to kill themselves will never ever be
|
|
any kind of kings. They will just be fools. Eternal fools. Fools, Michael.
|
|
Are you a fool?
|
|
|
|
MICHAEL
|
|
(silently)
|
|
No...
|
|
|
|
NATHAN
|
|
You wanna live?
|
|
|
|
MICHAEL
|
|
(whispering)
|
|
Yes...
|
|
|
|
NATHAN
|
|
Good. You'll be doing the right thing. Trust me on this one. I have... a
|
|
certain education... concerning this subject, so to say.
|
|
|
|
(MICHAEL moves his hand away from the gun to his face and begins to cry.
|
|
A smile emerges on the face of NATHAN.)
|
|
|
|
MICHAEL
|
|
(sobbing)
|
|
Who... are you?
|
|
|
|
NATHAN
|
|
Nathan Jones. From the top floor.
|
|
|
|
MICHAEL
|
|
No, you're an angel. An angel from heaven. You've... saved me.
|
|
|
|
NATHAN
|
|
(smiling)
|
|
Everything is going to be fine, Michael, just _fine..._
|
|
|
|
(NATHAN moves his hand carefully over the table, until it reaches the gun.)
|
|
|
|
NATHAN
|
|
Fine, just fine, Michael...
|
|
|
|
(NATHAN quickly grabs the gun and puts the barrel into his own mouth.)
|
|
|
|
NATHAN
|
|
Sucker.
|
|
|
|
(Closing credits hit the screen as a gun shot is heard.)
|
|
|
|
|
|
---------------------------------------------------------------------------
|
|
uXu #339 Underground eXperts United 1996 uXu #339
|
|
Call ARRESTED DEVELOPMENT -> +31-77-3547477
|
|
---------------------------------------------------------------------------
|