He was a dragon after the singeing of his own hair and skin. The charred village back to carbon from smokey diamond. Under the flames they felt a slow rain, rich with disintegrated flesh. Closer to a grey snow, rich and putrid. The dragon snapped at space made emptier without oxygen. He would smile through all the smoke at an aging outline of a friend, pricking his flushed ears at dry echoes of approbation. All the ruin for love, for nods, for clasp of sharp stern claws. Chasing his scales he had flung through the billowing veil at the other, he could not halt the fiery dance. If there were another village, it followed the first, and another and a friendship, not scorched, but welded.
The dragon spit a wide stream from his belly onto the other beast, who was not a dragon but breathed air and brightened up in his own peculiar way, distinguished by aplomb, rather than magnitude of pillage. Strange flames flickered in four eyes, surveying the ash and bone. The flames had waited out the night. Two beasts, not content to moderation. One prone to all the demolition. The other, the charting of his friend's percussion. Their bodies could not be broken that night. Lumps of coal in their mouths sweetened each hour. Villages gone to make way for savage communion.
The other presented two mirrors for his friend. He suggested they mock performance art and attempt transcendence, starting with they know and love best: their own flesh. Both flicked cigarettes over the glass and cozied up to their reflections. They angled the two flush mirrors first at 120 degrees, delighting in the multiplying of themselves, over and over as the angle was drawn back and forth. Enflamed and body engorged, the two bodies lowered and rubbed against the image.
The Dragon kissed his own reflection:
--You know I bring chaos. You ask for chaos.
He taunted the admonishing approach of the morning, defying a frayed social contract. After more cigarettes and riches taken for granted, the Dragon smashed a mirror over his leg. Drugged, the dragon cut into his leg, foretasting the spoils of unconfined consumption. A claw swiped over his blood and transported the boiling wine to his own mouth. Blood dropped onto the mirrors on the ground the other had unearthed from the rubble of a house. Nothing was spared, but, again, the bodies of the two beasts could not be broken.
Tuesday, April 22, 2014
Tuesday, April 8, 2014
Untitled Project on Sibling Actors, Post 13: Afternoon Wine with the Director: Part 2
Broussard redirects her probe:
--What I do ask of my crew is for their trust. I believe the final product comes out bolder and truer when I have that. It's not the mechanics I want as much as the essence. I'm always looking for an essence. When I think I've found the right person, I give them my trust. I only expect that, in return, they do the same for me.
Sister knows she must comply:
--I understand perfectly. I'm ready to be molded or…pushed. With the script I realize II'll have to suspend hesitancies and jump--just jump right into it all. And that's all there is to it.
Brother smothers a piece of baguette with the pate. Brother amuses himself with the thought of smudging Sister's forehead with the fatty concoction. How far can Sister be pushed? Brother offers the platter of foie gras to Broussard, who is obliging and humored after finishing her cigarette. His counterpart refuses the same offer and resents the crunching noises following from his mouth.
Broussard:
--You've come to realize this, I'm sure, as you've grown more accustomed to France, but we come from backgrounds of intense discipline. I'd say it's an obsession, how we regulate ourselves. We measure out exactly our personal interactions on parchment, just so, and seal them off with polite kisses. Many who visit interpret our culture as one mediating through deliberate coldness, but I say we interact in a way that is tres simple et claire. (She speak more slowly) This is not my approach in film. I do not want to pull the ceiling down over my team to where it just barely misses the hair on their heads, or to mold my leads down to models I've already pre-conceived. I can work with a tight aesthetic and let it drape around the work naturally. I think it's nice to breathe.
Laurent:
You're going to have a rough time reigning in this one, though.
Broussard raises her eyebrows briefly to Laurent, like a quick spasm from a muscle unknowingly tensed, and stoops closer toward Charlotte:
--What motivates you as an actress?
Charlotte, making sure not to look at Laurent, puts out her cigarette:
--Does an actress need to know what motivates her?
Brother tsk tsks to himself. Throughout the meeting he had been waiting for Charlotte to repeat some of the half-heartedly felt witticisms and broad aesthetic statements on acting he fed her before the guest of paramount influence and opportunity arrived. Sister buckles silently in her seat and clears her throat. Broussard lets out a quick exhalation of short breath.
Charlotte continues:
--I'm joking of course.
Broussard:
--I'm not one of those directors that thinks her actors and actresses to be dispensable. I am searching for an essence and a source of constant freshness.
Charlotte:
--Absolutely. I'm…not entirely sure (she laughs). When I think about it, I realize I've always been acting. Laurent and I have always acted. Isn't it fantastic to be able to take what is common and spin it upwards through an inspired lens, up to the ceiling of a performance hall (she wipes the sweat off of her forehead with her backhand, as if rubbing away the smear of pate with which Laurent fantasized her)? I like to make things grand even in their mundanity. It's like writing, I suppose (she turns to Laurent). We owe ourselves to some…reality, but we also leave gaps, or, they're already there for us to fill up. What am I saying?
Laurent, who knows Charlotte has reluctantly turned to him for assistance:
--We owe ourselves to ourselves. Well, we owe ourselves to the art and to the daily toil.
Charlotte brightens and hastens:
--It's everything to me. I believe pretense heightens the raw materials from our lives and reveals to us subtle interactions of these sources in ways that we don't always immediately recognize. At the same time I also thoroughly enjoy a performance that does not lean back on the artifice, but makes a window of itself to what is common in an uncanny, even troubling way…(she laughs) perhaps an intensely boring way. Like I said, I promise we really are quite boring here.
There she goes again claiming to be boring and insisting herself reduced to the level of "common." Sister repeatedly refers to the setting of the Yardley house as boring--as a dull pulse that consumes time, and it does. All the time in the world is not enough for the Yardley siblings to consume, as well, to pick up dust from the angles of their playhouse (wait, that is Martha's job) and sweep in here and there and to order more gin and tonics and to lounge on the backstage. There is something rather lush about the known security of wealth, isn't there? No kidding. Laurent and Charlotte adore the sluggish sun cloud that seeps into the house each morning after their nightly toking sessions. Boring is sexy. Performative boredom is riveting. A this time, Laurent performs boredom while trailing backwards to ground where the remains of the dragonfly have been eaten away to mere bits of wing, glass from a precious lamp shade that have lost their original sharp ability of light refraction. Laurent reanimates what has been struck down and scorned:
Long-winded and not prone to compartmentalize each gleam of the twisting joyride, the dragonfly, the drunk, demands they change their tone--to shape up or be snatched up. Shift and bend out of shape, bottom layer to this lawn forrest of the molted outer substance. The dragonfly is drunk in the air with wet mandible emerald nape, to feed in between emotional planes--never on, but inside. Tyrant of the lawn sky, he is compelled. He chews out a mean battle drum, waits for the hover to emerge from of them all below. Below, they scatter, step, prick at, are cautious, but regard the brilliant current. Do they decide, then, that some sky is worth a severed head?
His perception follows the heat of the ground to the clouds and imagines a giant dragonfly homing in above its destination at the Yardley house. He sits and feels his sternum rattle from the underlining woof of the beast's weighty humming, magnified and made into a grinding plague. The predatory sky makes him nauseous. Lower in the gastrointestinal track he feels the base of the song attack, loosening silted bowels. There is no time to recuperate from the last pound of the bass before the next blare. Heavy heaving drone. He imagines another man, older and even more confounded, outside of himself, choking on the thick air, each particle buzzing and pushing inward into the trenches of sound, snaking inward. Crunching over, as if to cough wildly into his fist, the old man shakes and the framework of his upper body responds to the heavy bass of the dragonfly. The bones acquire a hard plasticity that is difficult to make work with his lungs. His clenching ribs clunk against the softer tissue and are pushed back further than is natural with the driving beat of the music. Green armor plates drown out the sky as the dragonfly nears.
For a couple minutes Brother drops out of color. Next to him the two women continue their conversation. After a dazed look elsewhere into the sky above the backstage, Charlotte lets her head fall back gracefully, like a drifting leaf meeting the water of the swimming pool. She lights another cigarette. Charlotte then drifts further down this smooth imaginary garland toward Laurent, who has been in a whole other "elsewhere" of his own. Gently, she rubs his right shoulder with her hand, coaxing him to attentiveness, and then looks back to Broussard, keeping all of her body still in its new marking, except for her neck which twists back to the director. Charlotte takes a drag of the next cigarette, hand positioned over Laurent and eyes locked on Broussard, as she speaks:
--For instance…
As if pre-rehearsed a countless number of times earlier in the day Charlotte exhales the smoke through her lips into Laurent's mouth, who slowly sucks in the smoke while closing his eyes. While tilting his head backyard, Laurent then blows the smoke out and upward through his nostrils. The two of them have carefully monitored their presentation, only, both have taken different (not opposite) approaches. In the end this is not entirely a collaboration for the siblings, at least not a conscious one. Practice in their theater leads to moments of autonomy, but, while these ornamentations of performance lend themselves to an overall musical reception, intended or not, grasped or not by the performers, they are not everything for either Yardley. Quickly, the moment is dismissed by Laurent, pretender guardian of the below, of everything Charlotte overlooks, and he excuses himself from the table to leave the director and Sister to their business.
Charlotte, determined not to be the mere second to last feature following the performative coalescence, says to Laurent:
--Could you bring me a cup of tea? Mint tea, if you would.
Monday, March 31, 2014
lessons in show-off despair
man don't put a woman out there on the marking
or pretend it's piping hot broth from your ladle/
have her suffer from your own envy
man don't blow on her until she's cold
or let her take on the heat from plot and trial/
have her dance solo and burn
don't hide behind the other don't shift the weight
don't slosh the soup
don't steal the soul don't art it up
don't make your own marking and let her fall
in your stead.
or pretend it's piping hot broth from your ladle/
have her suffer from your own envy
man don't blow on her until she's cold
or let her take on the heat from plot and trial/
have her dance solo and burn
don't hide behind the other don't shift the weight
don't slosh the soup
don't steal the soul don't art it up
don't make your own marking and let her fall
in your stead.
strikes a chord
A man strikes a chord in the hollow of my wake
which softens my face and relaxes my bowels.
It hurts from being too pleasant, the depth and the tunnel,
but the ache.
I hope stays--
I hope carves--
rings into the dusk.
Love must be a swing of hammer to the foundation.
which softens my face and relaxes my bowels.
It hurts from being too pleasant, the depth and the tunnel,
but the ache.
I hope stays--
I hope carves--
rings into the dusk.
Love must be a swing of hammer to the foundation.
Friday, March 28, 2014
drunk/stalking the grass, the dragonfly
long-winded and not prone to compartmentalize each gleam
of the twisting joyride the dragonfly/drunk demands
they change their tone--to shape up or be snatched up.
shift and bend out of shape bottom layer to this lawn forrest
of the molted outer substance the dragonfly is drunk in the air
with wet mandible emerald nape--to feed in between planes
never on inside tyrant of the sky is compelled/chews
out a mean battle drum waits for the hover of them all
below they scatter step/prick at/are cautious
but regard the brilliant current do they decide
some sky is worth a severed head.
of the twisting joyride the dragonfly/drunk demands
they change their tone--to shape up or be snatched up.
shift and bend out of shape bottom layer to this lawn forrest
of the molted outer substance the dragonfly is drunk in the air
with wet mandible emerald nape--to feed in between planes
never on inside tyrant of the sky is compelled/chews
out a mean battle drum waits for the hover of them all
below they scatter step/prick at/are cautious
but regard the brilliant current do they decide
some sky is worth a severed head.
Wednesday, March 26, 2014
Untitled Project on Sibling Actors, Post 12: Afternoon Wine with the Director: Part 1
We see this transformation within couples who have lived together for many years. One begins to take on the characteristics of the other and vise versa. Physically, even, two people will begin to absorb the harshness and delicacies from their counterparts. Charlotte and Laurent are not biological twins, yet with one actor's utterance, there follows feeble resistance, but mostly careful mimicry from a tiresome, biological impulse for learning and adopting behavior. The many complexities of, not only carrying, but displaying various emotions constitute the underlining groundwork for an art that Brother and Sister are becoming all too good at. As has been known ever since Sophocles, the human heart is not immutable. Certain theatrics may be overplayed or too easily expected in each scene, but that is why Brother and Sister learned early on the importance of mercuriality. Regard the calculated unpredictability.
Brother reenters the backstage with a bottle of wine in one hand and a platter decorated with an assortment of foie gras--a typical pate, a mouse version, and one that has been bruleed. There is also a warm baguette wedged in-between his chest and his forearm. Sister pats the table lightly indicating where Brother can rest the tray. Broussard crosses her table side hand over to touch Brother and express her thanks with a doting smile. Now, there needs to be glassware, as well. Where are the glasses? Sister loves to fix her fingers around a steam of a wine glass and gently roll the structure over the prints on her thumb, index, and pointer finger. She requests two glasses to be brought to the table, to focus the angle of her body and to give pulse to the afternoon leisure. If Brother likes, he can bring another for his own pleasure. Again, Brother temporarily leaves the backstage and the riverbank of star gazing and wishing. Willful currents travel from the spring and deposit glittering artifacts. Sister's efforts raise a bed out of the older sediments and trap the polished ornaments. Sister snakes through her own rhythm, hoping for Broussard to cast out her lure.
Broussard:
--This would be your first time to work on a film project, am I correct?
Charlotte:
--You are. I've only recently become familiar with the stage. Actually, the work referred to you has been my first formal kind. The role was in a way written for me by a dear friend of the family, Peter Sonnek. He put alot of faith in me, but, looking back I do think I would have perfumed better after more training. I have virtually no other professional experience
--You know, though, what I found so exhilarating was this unprecedented confidence you brought into the role. They way your lover struck you down and you shook with disgust, telling him he was "so brave," or was it "so strong?"
--I told him, "what a real man, you are, Paul."
--That was it. I thought it shattering how disdainfully you looked at him while keeping total composure.
--Thank you very much. I'm glad to have made an impression.
--I believe you must please everyone with whom you leave an impression.
Charlotte raises both hands in the air in ridiculous anti-modesty:
--I always aim to please.
--Well, Mr. Sonneck certainly knew what he was doing. You're a natural.
--Thank you. You're too kind.
Broussard takes out a cigarette, pauses to look for a sign of passage from her host, and then lights up. Sister follows suit after relaxing out of relief. Brother arrives back on que with the glasses for the table. Sister motions to a chair closer to the pool for Laurent to grab and bring back to the setting and then takes the bottle to pour a glass for the director, who finds her lure drenched in Sister's rich cordiality and luster.
Laurent the amused duck peddles the water lightly, apart from the stronger flow in the stream. He is content to have another drink in his hands and even more so to assume his presence close at hand to the preoccupied actress. Broussard catches a glint from the young man and goes back to figuring him into the picture. Laurent takes a sip from his drink. The director asks him if he is proud of Sister. She asks him if he was able to see any of the pre-performance makings of the work as a whole. Brothers remarks that he lives with the makings of the work as a whole. Boy, is Sister a work. Sister comes in to say what a great sport Brother has been over the past couple of years. Brother comes back to say living with an actress comes with the perks of making acquaintances with the best sort of company that line of work attracts. Broussard is flattered.
Brother reenters the backstage with a bottle of wine in one hand and a platter decorated with an assortment of foie gras--a typical pate, a mouse version, and one that has been bruleed. There is also a warm baguette wedged in-between his chest and his forearm. Sister pats the table lightly indicating where Brother can rest the tray. Broussard crosses her table side hand over to touch Brother and express her thanks with a doting smile. Now, there needs to be glassware, as well. Where are the glasses? Sister loves to fix her fingers around a steam of a wine glass and gently roll the structure over the prints on her thumb, index, and pointer finger. She requests two glasses to be brought to the table, to focus the angle of her body and to give pulse to the afternoon leisure. If Brother likes, he can bring another for his own pleasure. Again, Brother temporarily leaves the backstage and the riverbank of star gazing and wishing. Willful currents travel from the spring and deposit glittering artifacts. Sister's efforts raise a bed out of the older sediments and trap the polished ornaments. Sister snakes through her own rhythm, hoping for Broussard to cast out her lure.
Broussard:
--This would be your first time to work on a film project, am I correct?
Charlotte:
--You are. I've only recently become familiar with the stage. Actually, the work referred to you has been my first formal kind. The role was in a way written for me by a dear friend of the family, Peter Sonnek. He put alot of faith in me, but, looking back I do think I would have perfumed better after more training. I have virtually no other professional experience
--You know, though, what I found so exhilarating was this unprecedented confidence you brought into the role. They way your lover struck you down and you shook with disgust, telling him he was "so brave," or was it "so strong?"
--I told him, "what a real man, you are, Paul."
--That was it. I thought it shattering how disdainfully you looked at him while keeping total composure.
--Thank you very much. I'm glad to have made an impression.
--I believe you must please everyone with whom you leave an impression.
Charlotte raises both hands in the air in ridiculous anti-modesty:
--I always aim to please.
--Well, Mr. Sonneck certainly knew what he was doing. You're a natural.
--Thank you. You're too kind.
Broussard takes out a cigarette, pauses to look for a sign of passage from her host, and then lights up. Sister follows suit after relaxing out of relief. Brother arrives back on que with the glasses for the table. Sister motions to a chair closer to the pool for Laurent to grab and bring back to the setting and then takes the bottle to pour a glass for the director, who finds her lure drenched in Sister's rich cordiality and luster.
Laurent the amused duck peddles the water lightly, apart from the stronger flow in the stream. He is content to have another drink in his hands and even more so to assume his presence close at hand to the preoccupied actress. Broussard catches a glint from the young man and goes back to figuring him into the picture. Laurent takes a sip from his drink. The director asks him if he is proud of Sister. She asks him if he was able to see any of the pre-performance makings of the work as a whole. Brothers remarks that he lives with the makings of the work as a whole. Boy, is Sister a work. Sister comes in to say what a great sport Brother has been over the past couple of years. Brother comes back to say living with an actress comes with the perks of making acquaintances with the best sort of company that line of work attracts. Broussard is flattered.
Just A Glimpse
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=f2ReFd_RlSU
Above is a link to a short film that Nathan Ashlock and I put together about witches, coffee, and love letters. Justine feels phony and didactic. She is currently finishing a manuscript for her masters degree and does not find soppy sentimentality for a good companion in her intellectual journey. Hannah, her friend who has taken her out for coffee, just wants for Justine to unwind from all the pressures she has with her family and work. Hannah invites Justine to a seance, where she becomes ever further tangled in the ropes of a mysterious cult. France, the witch leader of this eclectic assortment of people goes into a trance and unleashes a demon onto Justine out of unknown, but clearly pernicious (lol) motives.
"Just A Glimpse"
Scene 1 (PROLOGUE) NIGHTTIME, 10-15 seconds
We hear a scratching noise in quick strokes. Close up CAMERA on a wooden desk in a dense darkness, except for a lamp's light. We see a woman's hands writing the opening of a letter with crisp determination, her handwriting deliberate and gorgeous. The sound of boots on a wooden floor are heard approaching. A thicker and hairier hand snatches the letter out from under the woman's hands as a dark figure walks into the shadows. The man's face is shown looking at the letter and then back at the women. The man walks away from the woman at the desk, who is left to herself and buries her face into the palms of her hands.The light goes out.
TITLE sequence in pink cursive
Scene 2 (CAFE) MIDDAY 20-30 seconds
Title and credits remain. We see a cafe table with its place setting slowly illuminated in the frame. One plate has a napkin tossed on top and next to it silver wear out on the surface. The spoon, fork, and knife are in a half-hazard pile. On the other side of the plate there is a cup of coffee that has been drunk out of by a mystery person. Across from the undone setting there is another plate with its silver wear still wrapped up in its napkin, intact, and another full cup of coffee. There is typical background cafe clamor off camera. Miles Davis' track Bitches Brew plays from the beginning of the track. More distinctly, there is a dialogue going on during this shot at the table surface:
Hannah: Well, I think its brewed here like it's done in cafes in Jakarta.
Justine: Like, Indonesia?
H: Like, yeah, it's what I've heard. Iunno. My mom has acid reflux and so I have her on the whole cold-drip thing now, but, um...
J: I wish I had the time to become more of a coffee connoisseur.
H: You can start here. It's just fabulous, here. The espresso has that foamy light-brown top.
J: So you know it's the real thing, then.
H: Exactly.
The new shot is over the table facing toward a girl with long brown hair falling down over her right shoulder. She is seated across from another girl (whose hands, but not face is visible in this shot) and her body language, while eloquent, does sag toward the table. There is silence in the middle of the clamor.
Scene 3 (DIM BEDROOM) LATE EVENING, 45 seconds at most
Justine is prepping in front of a mirror in her bedroom. The lighting is ambient. She flips her hair over her shoulders a couple times while mystified by her reflection. She is almost drunk in her perception. She is wearing a black dress with pearls loosely hung around her neck. The phone on her night stand rings, but she chooses to let the call go to her mailbox. The camera follows her reaction (or lack of one) to the voicemail as Justine continues in her routine.
Caleb (On the recorder): Heya, Justine. Missed you at service today. I, uh, know that you're going through a pretty rough time. …And it sucks. I think you should come hang out with us sometime this week? Or it can be just us two, if that's more comfortable for you. Haha. Well, I just wanted to let you know that you have a friend in me. (Caleb becomes more radiant) And listen, I don't know how you feel about this sort of thing at this point, but, um… God's really got your back. The scriptures tell us that these sort of events are often God just wanting us to cry out to him, ya know. Haha, like a reminder that he's here for us. What else is there to turn to? We've got to model ourselves after someone, you know? God has amazing things in store for you. I can see it. He's really going to take this and turn all this mess upside down…(sincerely) I hope this helps. Please see me this week.
Scene 4 (CUT BACK TO CAFE) MIDDAY, 30-90 seconds
J: I'm worried about my mom (eyes averting those of her friend, she strokes the rim of her coffee cup)
H: How's she doing with the divorce and everything?
J: I just don't know. At first she just beat herself to death over the…spiritual ramifications. She would call me to talk about how we can't ever fully comprehend the will of God--that we're in this eternal struggle where we must always try and never quite get there (using more hand motion, but still keeping her eyes drawn to objects on the table, rather than on H). But now--
H: Geez. You've told her you're let go of all that stuff though, right?
J: Oh, I don't want to further weight down her life right now. My mom is, um, counting on me to help her through this and I think any talk of my lack of a concrete, moral paradigm would...
H: Would what (probing)?
J: It'd totally kill her (now her eyes meet H's. She drums the table with her fingers).
H: Right right. That sucks.
J: I know, but, God, I feel so pathetic right now, too, though. Like, I'm supposed to be polishing off a manuscript right now and all of a sudden, I feel like so tangled--I just--I can't. I've lost framework. I feel phony or didactic. At least…I don't even feel tangled; no that's so cliche. I feel nothing. Yes, nothing.
The camera goes back to Hannah, who does't say anything, Justine pauses a bit, as if needing some answer from Hannah and then begins speaking.
J: I haven't heard from my mom in awhile. I'm worried about her. The last time I saw her, she was completely catotonic. I mean it was like she was a completely different person. She's locked herself in her house for the past week, not returning my calls, or my letters. I just--
H: Tell you what. I think it'd be really good for you to just unwind this evening (smiling and sinking back into her chair, very comfortable with herself).
J: How (lazily)?
H: My friend's hosting this gathering tonight. There's going to be drinks. (laughing) We can smoke a bit.
J: Ahhh (acknowledging unenthusiastically)
H: There's going to be a seance (more seductively).
There is a long pause while the camera remains focused on H from J's shoulder and then the camera is now positioned close to J's profile.
J: (intrigued) What?
H: Well, you know. It's pretty harmless. Not sure who's really expecting anything real to happen.
J: A seance? I don't know, Hannah.
H: Come off it. It'll be a fun evening. There's gonna be cute guys. You know it take your mind of things.
Hannah raises her coffee to her lips, a mischievous smile playing at her lips. Justin shuffles in her seat.
H: Thought you didn't really believe in that stuff… I'm only looking out for you, Justine.
Justine looks to her coffee cup. The cafe clamor cuts out.
H: Drink your coffee.
Scene 5 (BOOKCASE) NIGHTTIME, 10-15 seconds
Justine walks over to a bookcase and examines the titles of the books. Faust is one of the titles. Two others are the Thelma books, Equinox, and Necronomicon. Justine reaches her hand up to the spines of a few books at eye level.
Scene 6 (OUTSIDE OF CAFE) EARLY AFTERNOON, 20-30 seconds
An urban street close to where the two girls were just seen dining. H is no longer with J, who is walking down a sidewalk. There are leaves across the cement. The mood is more contemplative and less intellectually bright. Shadows of trees are casts against pale building sides. The angles within the frame point downward towards the bottom right corner. There is a carcass of an indistinguishable animal, reduced to a pulp, that is being ravaged through by two dogs. A man, drunk and murmuring impersonally is taking long crooked strides from an alley toward the street and as he emerges he is heard singing roughly:
Drunken Man: Satan, Satan, Satan, it's all going to the dogs. The devil wanna dance with me. The devil wanna dance with you, doggy doggy. Arrrhooooo!!!
J stops, baffled and looks toward the direction of the drunken man. The violence of everything is not only off-putting, but jarring. Growls of dogs intensifies. The scene cuts with loud barking.
Scene 7 HOUSE GATHERING NIGHTTIME, 30-50 seconds
The man from the prologue, opening the door: Ahh, Hannah, you made it! And peace upon you!
H: Of course (shrugging it off, playing cool). You, too, man!
Man: And who's this (pointing to J beside H)?
H: This is my friend, Justine. I told her she'd have a great time and then she wanted to come. That cool?
Man: Yeah, absolutely. Welcome, welcome.
J: Thanks (awkwardly, but calmly, tagging behind H)
The Wiccan man (whom neither or Justine recognize from the prologue, as neither were present) pulls Justine into a welcoming, but awkward and unnecessary hug. Upon release she turns to Hannah and they kiss on the cheek. We follow the two women behind the man into a foyer with a heavy, but luxurious atmosphere. A few brief snippets of unimportant conversation is shown through different shots to extract the mood. Suddenly another Wiccan, a woman, is in Justine's face with a ridiculously jolly smile.
Woman: This is your first time here! Now, it's okay to be nervous. I haven't been here so long myself.
Justine: You live here?
Woman: (laughing) Sometimes.
Justin: To be frank, I don't really have an idea of what to expect. How'd you get started with all of…this (motioning to the room's dimensions)?
Woman: I'm not the first one of this kind in my family. In fact, we have successfully traced back my lineage to sixteenth century in England.
Photo: A black and white sketch of a woman dressed outside of a dark, Gothic building. We stay for one or two seconds.
Woman: But you know. She was found guilty and they burned her. Animals
Scene 8 (HOUSE INTERIORS), 5-7 seconds
Interiors of the house. There is jazz music playing and there is mingling with nice drinks. It is a casual cocktail party of twelve eclectic and well dressed people. Hannah trails off with what we presume to be another one of her friends, while Laurel is transfixed on the characters and objects in the room. The conversation is improvised. We gets glimpses of the host, Frances, from the back of her. The Wiccan man is seen speaking with her. In this same shot we see Justine walking in the background to the bookcase. The camera comes closer to this shot, in the direction of the man looking at Frances' face.
F: The letter?
The man smiles in affirmation, but is silent. France's face is still not in view.
Scene 9 (PENTAGRAM SHOT), 2-5 seconds
Pentagram is being drawn into sight in a dark room that we recognize from the prologue. There are small candles lit around the space where chalk is scrapping against the floor. There is a larger candle lit above the top of the space with the same letter beside it in the light.
Scene 10 (ASIDE AT PARTY), 45-50 seconds
The host, Frances, a woman ten years older than Justine, comes and touches her shoulder. Justine sharply moves to see who's touching her and does not recognize the person addressing her. The host has a calming, but domineering personality. The host observes another woman's interaction with a man as they are seated in the corner of the parlor. The other woman is running her fingers over tarot cards as the entranced young man across from her looks down upon her spidery movements.
The host, Frances: Interested in anything you see?
J: I'm sorry. It was just a quick glimpse.
F: Oh, there is nothing to apologize for. I can sense that you have a special drive in you. You want to learn. You want to see things situated in their own reality and then to see…beyond.
J: I--I think so, yes. I'm not sure if there is anything beyond our individual and social perceptions.
F: (smiling) Don't be afraid. We all want the same things here. That's how we have all been brought together. Although, while think we want to see everything, sometimes just a quick glimpse is potent enough. Some images--some understandings are too much for one person.
J: What sort of images are--
F: We don't get to choose what's revealed to us on our own terms.
J: (nodding her head begrudgingly) Yes, that's true.
F: May the sisters grant you the courage.
J: (cooly, but friendly) Am I going to need it?
F: There is nothing to be afraid of when you are here with us. We're your friends here. I sense that great things are in store for you. There is a power in you that stirs me. Let me be your eyes tonight and you will be able to glimpse further that you ever though capable.
Scene 11 (CUT BACK TO PENTAGRAM SHOT), 2-5 seconds
The last line of the pentagram is drawn by a hooded figure. One to five seconds.
Scene 12 (Seance in the dining room), 2-3 minutes
The camera is suspended in one shot, one take of a table from the side, about 10 feet away. Members of the coven and also other party guests make their way around the table. One woman lights candles on the table A man to the side slowly dims the overhead lighting from the chandelier. Eventually, the host takes her seat. There is a pendant in the middle of the table next to a collection of candles, in addition to an overturned glass. Everyone directs their attention to Frances and becomes silent.
F: Peace onto you all, brothers and sisters. Some of you know that for some time now I have been attempting to make contact with a particular spirit. This nameless beast has made his voice known to me throughout these days and wishes to further express itself. We are very pleased to have Justine here tonight. I sense this spirit's desire more heavily tonight and I believe it has much to do with our guest. Justine, we are most grateful to have you here in our circle.
Justine is speechless. The others observe her reaction, but are otherwise motionless. Justine nods to Frances and Frances closes her eyes to begin searching for this dark entity. One by one those around the table grad hands and then each grasp of hands is placed on the table, forming a link to the host.
F: Spirit, can you hear us? Are you aware of our presence? Are you willing to make some sign of yourself known to us? Spirit, give us some sign. (to her audience) Let us here combine our energy from our living presence.
Slowly, the others reach out in front of them to the overturned glass. It becomes more and more readable on Justine's face just how intriguing the whole performance is to her. Hannah has a new stillness in her body and remains incredibly focused. Frances begins coaxing the spirit further.
F: Spirit, can you hear us? Spirit, give us some sign. Give us a sign of your presence, spirit. Welcome spirit, come down among us. No one here wishes you harm, but to be vessels, pure in intention.
This scene is an endurance of patience and belief. The cup moves slowly toward Justine. It is ambiguous on whether or not it moves because of nervous motion from one of the other guests, or if it is an act from the spirit itself. A few characters are caught off guard. One gasps. Frances droops a bit, as if moving in and out of a partial trance.
F: (turning a piercing gaze to Justin): He wishes for everyone to leave. Except for Justine. Justine, you must stay here. The spirit requests that everyone else leaves.
Confused, the others at the table leave and only Frances and Justine remain in the room. Both still have their hand over the bottom of the overturned glass.
F: That's better. Spirit, you are welcome here. Please, move the glass to my right if you wish to respond with "yes" and move the glass to my left if you wish to respond with "no" to Justine's questions.
Justine quickly looks away from the table at Frances, unsure of herself. Frances notices this and nods in her direction to give her support.
J: Are you grounded here with us, or are you just visiting?
F: Start more simply than that, dear.
J: Have--have we met before?
The camera turns to the glass and the frame slowly fades into black
Scene 13 (OUTSIDE OF JUSTINE'S HOUSE NEAR MAILBOX), 10-15 seconds
Justine begins walking up her driveway, but notices a letter in the mailbox, which is left open. Confused, she takes the letter out and instantly notices the purposeful handwriting we saw in the prologue. She lifts her hand to her mouth and attempts recomposing herself.
Scene 14 (Back to the dining room where the seance was held) RIGHT AFTER THE SEANCE, 20 seconds
The dining room is filling up again. Frances swishes her hands through the air to clear the smoke that came from blowing out the candles on the table. Conversation begins to pick up.
F: Lydia, come bring some burning sage. We need to cleanse the room.
J: (picking herself together and walking to Frances) Nothing happened.
F: That is yet to be seen.
J: How do you mean? Didn't--I thought you said goodbye.
F: We will see.
J: I haven't seen anything.
F: Why, it was just a glimpse, dear. What were you expecting?
Scene 15 (BEDROOM), 15 seconds
Justine climbs into bed and kisses the letter in her hand. The camera is facing her in her bed and she turns off the bedside lamp. The room is dark except for the light that comes through her window blinds against the wall above her bed.
Scene 16 (PENTAGRAM), 2-5 seconds
The hooded figure, bent down before the pentagram blows out the bigger candle placed on the floor above the markings.
Scene 17 (BEDROOM), 30 seconds-1 minute
There is no score in this scene. Startled by something that we are not aware of, Justine turns the light back on. She places the letter on the night stand as we were organic growling noises with percussion. She turns the light off again. We were a bump and then a crash of the lamp against the wall. There is heavy breathing and a scream begins in the middle of large growling and wet, crunching noises. Justine screams and this sound carries over to the next image.
Scene 18 (EPILOGUE), 20 seconds
Miles Davis starts again. In a post-death scene in the same bedroom, we see Justine getting ready in front of the mirror in a red dress. The room is in blue hues. Justine primps and touches her hair, as if preparing for another post-death step. Credits begin.
Above is a link to a short film that Nathan Ashlock and I put together about witches, coffee, and love letters. Justine feels phony and didactic. She is currently finishing a manuscript for her masters degree and does not find soppy sentimentality for a good companion in her intellectual journey. Hannah, her friend who has taken her out for coffee, just wants for Justine to unwind from all the pressures she has with her family and work. Hannah invites Justine to a seance, where she becomes ever further tangled in the ropes of a mysterious cult. France, the witch leader of this eclectic assortment of people goes into a trance and unleashes a demon onto Justine out of unknown, but clearly pernicious (lol) motives.
"Just A Glimpse"
Scene 1 (PROLOGUE) NIGHTTIME, 10-15 seconds
We hear a scratching noise in quick strokes. Close up CAMERA on a wooden desk in a dense darkness, except for a lamp's light. We see a woman's hands writing the opening of a letter with crisp determination, her handwriting deliberate and gorgeous. The sound of boots on a wooden floor are heard approaching. A thicker and hairier hand snatches the letter out from under the woman's hands as a dark figure walks into the shadows. The man's face is shown looking at the letter and then back at the women. The man walks away from the woman at the desk, who is left to herself and buries her face into the palms of her hands.The light goes out.
TITLE sequence in pink cursive
Scene 2 (CAFE) MIDDAY 20-30 seconds
Title and credits remain. We see a cafe table with its place setting slowly illuminated in the frame. One plate has a napkin tossed on top and next to it silver wear out on the surface. The spoon, fork, and knife are in a half-hazard pile. On the other side of the plate there is a cup of coffee that has been drunk out of by a mystery person. Across from the undone setting there is another plate with its silver wear still wrapped up in its napkin, intact, and another full cup of coffee. There is typical background cafe clamor off camera. Miles Davis' track Bitches Brew plays from the beginning of the track. More distinctly, there is a dialogue going on during this shot at the table surface:
Hannah: Well, I think its brewed here like it's done in cafes in Jakarta.
Justine: Like, Indonesia?
H: Like, yeah, it's what I've heard. Iunno. My mom has acid reflux and so I have her on the whole cold-drip thing now, but, um...
J: I wish I had the time to become more of a coffee connoisseur.
H: You can start here. It's just fabulous, here. The espresso has that foamy light-brown top.
J: So you know it's the real thing, then.
H: Exactly.
The new shot is over the table facing toward a girl with long brown hair falling down over her right shoulder. She is seated across from another girl (whose hands, but not face is visible in this shot) and her body language, while eloquent, does sag toward the table. There is silence in the middle of the clamor.
Scene 3 (DIM BEDROOM) LATE EVENING, 45 seconds at most
Justine is prepping in front of a mirror in her bedroom. The lighting is ambient. She flips her hair over her shoulders a couple times while mystified by her reflection. She is almost drunk in her perception. She is wearing a black dress with pearls loosely hung around her neck. The phone on her night stand rings, but she chooses to let the call go to her mailbox. The camera follows her reaction (or lack of one) to the voicemail as Justine continues in her routine.
Caleb (On the recorder): Heya, Justine. Missed you at service today. I, uh, know that you're going through a pretty rough time. …And it sucks. I think you should come hang out with us sometime this week? Or it can be just us two, if that's more comfortable for you. Haha. Well, I just wanted to let you know that you have a friend in me. (Caleb becomes more radiant) And listen, I don't know how you feel about this sort of thing at this point, but, um… God's really got your back. The scriptures tell us that these sort of events are often God just wanting us to cry out to him, ya know. Haha, like a reminder that he's here for us. What else is there to turn to? We've got to model ourselves after someone, you know? God has amazing things in store for you. I can see it. He's really going to take this and turn all this mess upside down…(sincerely) I hope this helps. Please see me this week.
Scene 4 (CUT BACK TO CAFE) MIDDAY, 30-90 seconds
J: I'm worried about my mom (eyes averting those of her friend, she strokes the rim of her coffee cup)
H: How's she doing with the divorce and everything?
J: I just don't know. At first she just beat herself to death over the…spiritual ramifications. She would call me to talk about how we can't ever fully comprehend the will of God--that we're in this eternal struggle where we must always try and never quite get there (using more hand motion, but still keeping her eyes drawn to objects on the table, rather than on H). But now--
H: Geez. You've told her you're let go of all that stuff though, right?
J: Oh, I don't want to further weight down her life right now. My mom is, um, counting on me to help her through this and I think any talk of my lack of a concrete, moral paradigm would...
H: Would what (probing)?
J: It'd totally kill her (now her eyes meet H's. She drums the table with her fingers).
H: Right right. That sucks.
J: I know, but, God, I feel so pathetic right now, too, though. Like, I'm supposed to be polishing off a manuscript right now and all of a sudden, I feel like so tangled--I just--I can't. I've lost framework. I feel phony or didactic. At least…I don't even feel tangled; no that's so cliche. I feel nothing. Yes, nothing.
The camera goes back to Hannah, who does't say anything, Justine pauses a bit, as if needing some answer from Hannah and then begins speaking.
J: I haven't heard from my mom in awhile. I'm worried about her. The last time I saw her, she was completely catotonic. I mean it was like she was a completely different person. She's locked herself in her house for the past week, not returning my calls, or my letters. I just--
H: Tell you what. I think it'd be really good for you to just unwind this evening (smiling and sinking back into her chair, very comfortable with herself).
J: How (lazily)?
H: My friend's hosting this gathering tonight. There's going to be drinks. (laughing) We can smoke a bit.
J: Ahhh (acknowledging unenthusiastically)
H: There's going to be a seance (more seductively).
There is a long pause while the camera remains focused on H from J's shoulder and then the camera is now positioned close to J's profile.
J: (intrigued) What?
H: Well, you know. It's pretty harmless. Not sure who's really expecting anything real to happen.
J: A seance? I don't know, Hannah.
H: Come off it. It'll be a fun evening. There's gonna be cute guys. You know it take your mind of things.
Hannah raises her coffee to her lips, a mischievous smile playing at her lips. Justin shuffles in her seat.
H: Thought you didn't really believe in that stuff… I'm only looking out for you, Justine.
Justine looks to her coffee cup. The cafe clamor cuts out.
H: Drink your coffee.
Scene 5 (BOOKCASE) NIGHTTIME, 10-15 seconds
Justine walks over to a bookcase and examines the titles of the books. Faust is one of the titles. Two others are the Thelma books, Equinox, and Necronomicon. Justine reaches her hand up to the spines of a few books at eye level.
Scene 6 (OUTSIDE OF CAFE) EARLY AFTERNOON, 20-30 seconds
An urban street close to where the two girls were just seen dining. H is no longer with J, who is walking down a sidewalk. There are leaves across the cement. The mood is more contemplative and less intellectually bright. Shadows of trees are casts against pale building sides. The angles within the frame point downward towards the bottom right corner. There is a carcass of an indistinguishable animal, reduced to a pulp, that is being ravaged through by two dogs. A man, drunk and murmuring impersonally is taking long crooked strides from an alley toward the street and as he emerges he is heard singing roughly:
Drunken Man: Satan, Satan, Satan, it's all going to the dogs. The devil wanna dance with me. The devil wanna dance with you, doggy doggy. Arrrhooooo!!!
J stops, baffled and looks toward the direction of the drunken man. The violence of everything is not only off-putting, but jarring. Growls of dogs intensifies. The scene cuts with loud barking.
Scene 7 HOUSE GATHERING NIGHTTIME, 30-50 seconds
The man from the prologue, opening the door: Ahh, Hannah, you made it! And peace upon you!
H: Of course (shrugging it off, playing cool). You, too, man!
Man: And who's this (pointing to J beside H)?
H: This is my friend, Justine. I told her she'd have a great time and then she wanted to come. That cool?
Man: Yeah, absolutely. Welcome, welcome.
J: Thanks (awkwardly, but calmly, tagging behind H)
The Wiccan man (whom neither or Justine recognize from the prologue, as neither were present) pulls Justine into a welcoming, but awkward and unnecessary hug. Upon release she turns to Hannah and they kiss on the cheek. We follow the two women behind the man into a foyer with a heavy, but luxurious atmosphere. A few brief snippets of unimportant conversation is shown through different shots to extract the mood. Suddenly another Wiccan, a woman, is in Justine's face with a ridiculously jolly smile.
Woman: This is your first time here! Now, it's okay to be nervous. I haven't been here so long myself.
Justine: You live here?
Woman: (laughing) Sometimes.
Justin: To be frank, I don't really have an idea of what to expect. How'd you get started with all of…this (motioning to the room's dimensions)?
Woman: I'm not the first one of this kind in my family. In fact, we have successfully traced back my lineage to sixteenth century in England.
Photo: A black and white sketch of a woman dressed outside of a dark, Gothic building. We stay for one or two seconds.
Woman: But you know. She was found guilty and they burned her. Animals
Scene 8 (HOUSE INTERIORS), 5-7 seconds
Interiors of the house. There is jazz music playing and there is mingling with nice drinks. It is a casual cocktail party of twelve eclectic and well dressed people. Hannah trails off with what we presume to be another one of her friends, while Laurel is transfixed on the characters and objects in the room. The conversation is improvised. We gets glimpses of the host, Frances, from the back of her. The Wiccan man is seen speaking with her. In this same shot we see Justine walking in the background to the bookcase. The camera comes closer to this shot, in the direction of the man looking at Frances' face.
F: The letter?
The man smiles in affirmation, but is silent. France's face is still not in view.
Scene 9 (PENTAGRAM SHOT), 2-5 seconds
Pentagram is being drawn into sight in a dark room that we recognize from the prologue. There are small candles lit around the space where chalk is scrapping against the floor. There is a larger candle lit above the top of the space with the same letter beside it in the light.
Scene 10 (ASIDE AT PARTY), 45-50 seconds
The host, Frances, a woman ten years older than Justine, comes and touches her shoulder. Justine sharply moves to see who's touching her and does not recognize the person addressing her. The host has a calming, but domineering personality. The host observes another woman's interaction with a man as they are seated in the corner of the parlor. The other woman is running her fingers over tarot cards as the entranced young man across from her looks down upon her spidery movements.
The host, Frances: Interested in anything you see?
J: I'm sorry. It was just a quick glimpse.
F: Oh, there is nothing to apologize for. I can sense that you have a special drive in you. You want to learn. You want to see things situated in their own reality and then to see…beyond.
J: I--I think so, yes. I'm not sure if there is anything beyond our individual and social perceptions.
F: (smiling) Don't be afraid. We all want the same things here. That's how we have all been brought together. Although, while think we want to see everything, sometimes just a quick glimpse is potent enough. Some images--some understandings are too much for one person.
J: What sort of images are--
F: We don't get to choose what's revealed to us on our own terms.
J: (nodding her head begrudgingly) Yes, that's true.
F: May the sisters grant you the courage.
J: (cooly, but friendly) Am I going to need it?
F: There is nothing to be afraid of when you are here with us. We're your friends here. I sense that great things are in store for you. There is a power in you that stirs me. Let me be your eyes tonight and you will be able to glimpse further that you ever though capable.
Scene 11 (CUT BACK TO PENTAGRAM SHOT), 2-5 seconds
The last line of the pentagram is drawn by a hooded figure. One to five seconds.
Scene 12 (Seance in the dining room), 2-3 minutes
The camera is suspended in one shot, one take of a table from the side, about 10 feet away. Members of the coven and also other party guests make their way around the table. One woman lights candles on the table A man to the side slowly dims the overhead lighting from the chandelier. Eventually, the host takes her seat. There is a pendant in the middle of the table next to a collection of candles, in addition to an overturned glass. Everyone directs their attention to Frances and becomes silent.
F: Peace onto you all, brothers and sisters. Some of you know that for some time now I have been attempting to make contact with a particular spirit. This nameless beast has made his voice known to me throughout these days and wishes to further express itself. We are very pleased to have Justine here tonight. I sense this spirit's desire more heavily tonight and I believe it has much to do with our guest. Justine, we are most grateful to have you here in our circle.
Justine is speechless. The others observe her reaction, but are otherwise motionless. Justine nods to Frances and Frances closes her eyes to begin searching for this dark entity. One by one those around the table grad hands and then each grasp of hands is placed on the table, forming a link to the host.
F: Spirit, can you hear us? Are you aware of our presence? Are you willing to make some sign of yourself known to us? Spirit, give us some sign. (to her audience) Let us here combine our energy from our living presence.
Slowly, the others reach out in front of them to the overturned glass. It becomes more and more readable on Justine's face just how intriguing the whole performance is to her. Hannah has a new stillness in her body and remains incredibly focused. Frances begins coaxing the spirit further.
F: Spirit, can you hear us? Spirit, give us some sign. Give us a sign of your presence, spirit. Welcome spirit, come down among us. No one here wishes you harm, but to be vessels, pure in intention.
This scene is an endurance of patience and belief. The cup moves slowly toward Justine. It is ambiguous on whether or not it moves because of nervous motion from one of the other guests, or if it is an act from the spirit itself. A few characters are caught off guard. One gasps. Frances droops a bit, as if moving in and out of a partial trance.
F: (turning a piercing gaze to Justin): He wishes for everyone to leave. Except for Justine. Justine, you must stay here. The spirit requests that everyone else leaves.
Confused, the others at the table leave and only Frances and Justine remain in the room. Both still have their hand over the bottom of the overturned glass.
F: That's better. Spirit, you are welcome here. Please, move the glass to my right if you wish to respond with "yes" and move the glass to my left if you wish to respond with "no" to Justine's questions.
Justine quickly looks away from the table at Frances, unsure of herself. Frances notices this and nods in her direction to give her support.
J: Are you grounded here with us, or are you just visiting?
F: Start more simply than that, dear.
J: Have--have we met before?
The camera turns to the glass and the frame slowly fades into black
Scene 13 (OUTSIDE OF JUSTINE'S HOUSE NEAR MAILBOX), 10-15 seconds
Justine begins walking up her driveway, but notices a letter in the mailbox, which is left open. Confused, she takes the letter out and instantly notices the purposeful handwriting we saw in the prologue. She lifts her hand to her mouth and attempts recomposing herself.
Scene 14 (Back to the dining room where the seance was held) RIGHT AFTER THE SEANCE, 20 seconds
The dining room is filling up again. Frances swishes her hands through the air to clear the smoke that came from blowing out the candles on the table. Conversation begins to pick up.
F: Lydia, come bring some burning sage. We need to cleanse the room.
J: (picking herself together and walking to Frances) Nothing happened.
F: That is yet to be seen.
J: How do you mean? Didn't--I thought you said goodbye.
F: We will see.
J: I haven't seen anything.
F: Why, it was just a glimpse, dear. What were you expecting?
Scene 15 (BEDROOM), 15 seconds
Justine climbs into bed and kisses the letter in her hand. The camera is facing her in her bed and she turns off the bedside lamp. The room is dark except for the light that comes through her window blinds against the wall above her bed.
Scene 16 (PENTAGRAM), 2-5 seconds
The hooded figure, bent down before the pentagram blows out the bigger candle placed on the floor above the markings.
Scene 17 (BEDROOM), 30 seconds-1 minute
There is no score in this scene. Startled by something that we are not aware of, Justine turns the light back on. She places the letter on the night stand as we were organic growling noises with percussion. She turns the light off again. We were a bump and then a crash of the lamp against the wall. There is heavy breathing and a scream begins in the middle of large growling and wet, crunching noises. Justine screams and this sound carries over to the next image.
Scene 18 (EPILOGUE), 20 seconds
Miles Davis starts again. In a post-death scene in the same bedroom, we see Justine getting ready in front of the mirror in a red dress. The room is in blue hues. Justine primps and touches her hair, as if preparing for another post-death step. Credits begin.
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