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"STILL BREATHING"
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| FADE UP TO:
THE ALAMO - SAN ANTONIO, TEXAS - DUSK
One of the world's most familiar buildings. It's quiet, and deeply shadowed in the orange, western light.
A MAN ENTERS FRAME -- the kind of man who makes his life on the street. He is pushing a shopping cart -- but instead of junk, the CART IS FILLED WITH A HUGE TREE. Its roots pack the cart and its branches stretch out above, full with leaves. Because of this, he's known as THE TREE MAN. Across his shoulder, is strung a huge, battered baritone sax. He slowly pushes the tree across the screen. We see a sub-title: "SAN ANTONIO, TEXAS".
VERY CLOSE -- THE SAXOPHONE -- As it swings off his shoulder. Hands find their places on the valves, and a DEEP, HAUNTING MELODY rolls forth...
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CUT TO:
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| VERY CLOSE -- A PHONOGRAPH -- The needle is scraping across a thick, old-fashioned record. It's the same OPERATIC MELODY that was coming out of the sax. We are at...
EXT. A HOUSE IN AN OLD SECTION OF SAN ANTONIO - DUSK
CAMERA REVEALS -- a YOUNGISH MAN sitting in a chair in the yard. CAMERA FLOATS towards the house, and over the overgrown ivy. We see that, despite its eccentricities, it was once, and always will be, a grand old house. Scattered around the yard are fanciful sculpture-like piles of stones.
CLOSE, HIS HANDS -- holding a pair of scissors. He is clipping a photograph out of an old magazine. It's a raven-haired and mysterious woman, selling something. His snips liberate her from the page -- she floats down into a shoebox by his chair, like a leaf falling free of a tree.
THE CAMERA settles on the man's face. It's young-ish, handsome, but not too so -- with long hair and a couple days worth of beard. His name is FLETCHER McBRACKEN. Suddenly and momentously, he THROWS DOWN the magazine.
INT. KITCHEN THE HOUSE - A FEW MOMENTS LATER
CLOSE ON A HUGE CAPPUCCINO MACHINE, and Fletcher's hands. He pours the foam into a cup, then the black espresso.
INT. THE HALLWAY
As he heads back to the yard. We see that tacked on the wall, are hundreds, maybe even thousands of photos and illustrations. They are all IMAGES OF WOMEN -- and every kind of woman imaginable -- smiling models, selling cars, perfume and power tools; the latest supermodels; mixed with paintings of madonnas, queens and goddesses. They cover every inch of wall space, like a giant collage. He pulls a couple of clippings out of his pocket, grabs a jar of paste and adds them to the collage. There's something earnest and innocent about the way he carefully fits a picture of a smiling housewife into the mix, then steps back and studies it all.
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FLETCHER |
| | I know you're in there somewhere...
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| OUTSIDE, IN THE CHAIR
He sits. He takes a sip of the coffee. A faint smile spreads across his lips. He picks up another magazine and the scissors. He starts clipping out a photo of a cheerful housewife with an eighteen-inch waist.
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ROSALYN'S VOICE
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| | There are two things I always tried to believe, but couldn't...
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| EXT. HOLLYWOOD, CALIFORNIA / ESTABLISHING - NIGHT
The crappy part of Santa Monica Blvd. A vintage, midnight-black Apache pickup rumbles by. A title reads: "HOLLYWOOD, CA".
THE TRUCK -- And in it, is ROSALYN WILLOUGHBY. She's the kind of world-weary LA woman who wears her disillusionment with a certain brainy, hipness. You can still see just a trace of the sparkle that made her so beautiful before the city buried it alive.
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ROSALYN'S VOICE (CONT'D)
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| | One was that there is a perfect man waiting out there for every woman. The other is that True Love gives you happiness.
In real life, I spent too much time dodging men who were less that perfect. And when I did fall in love, happiness never came.
So - I grew up and put away those childish things and finally stopped holding my breath for a man.
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| A SIDE STREET - NIGHT
Roz parks the car, puts on 'the club', throws her purse strap around her neck and activates her car alarm. She starts walking. She rounds a corner.
SUDDENLY - EVERYTHING IS THROWN IN SLOW MOTION as she glances into a doorway. All she sees is a slash of light that illuminates a MAN'S BODY.
HER FACE -- She knows in her gut that she's in trouble. She walks faster. All we hear is HER BREATHING.
THE DOORWAY -- and with a terrible, silent BURST OF MOVEMENT, the GUY GOES AFTER HER.
SHE LOOKS BACK, sees him coming. SHE STARTS RUNNING.
THE CORNER -- She's running hard, him closing. HE CATCHES HER -- PULLS HER BACK INTO THE DARK -- SLAMS HER AGAINST THE WALL. She slashes at his face with her keys. She gets a hold of her spray mace and tries to spray him. It just pisses him off. HE HITS HER -- She KICKS and SCRATCHES at him. And as he loosens his grip, she SPRAYS HIM. As he curses, she RUNS. He pulls something out of his pocket -- a flash of metal -- IT IS A GUN.
THE STREET -- She runs into the street. He RAISES THE GUN - COCKS IT. She looks back, sees the BARREL LEVEL AT HER
HER TERROR LEAPS ACROSS TIME AND SPACE AS WE...
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JUMP CUT TO:
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| EXT. THE HOUSE IN TEXAS - SIMULTANEOUS - NIGHT
Fletcher urgently OPENS HIS EYES. He LEAPS from the chair - HE SCREAMS:
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FLETCHER
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| | NO!!!
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JUMP CUT TO:
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| EXT. SANTA MONICA BLVD. - SIMULTANEOUS - NIGHT
CLOSE AND VERY SLOW MOTION -- THE GUN -- The Guy takes a step into the street -- he COCKS THE GUN.
THE STREET -- A CAR COMES OUT OF NOWHERE. Roz is going to be hit. She SCREAMS. The CAR SWERVES. THE CAR SLAMS INTO THE GUY. He's spun over the top of the hood and windshield.
THEN, A BEAT OF SILENCE. The car is gone. The guy is face down in the street. He doesn't move. Nothing happens. No one saw anything.
ONLY THE HANDGUN SEEMS ALIVE. It's TWIRLING like a pinwheel in the street. Roz just stands there... She pulls her clothes together. A car passes her, as if nothing has happened. She covers her face with her hands -- then slowly takes them away. If she was about to cry, she's squashed the urge.
EXT. THE HOUSE IN TEXAS - SIMULTANEOUS - NIGHT
Fletcher stands there -- flushed -- in the middle of the yard. He's as TERRIFIED as Roz, without knowing why. He tries to catch his breath. His heart is pounding. Only the CRICKETS make a sound.
EXT. SANTA MONICA BLVD. - THE PAVEMENT - SIMULTANEOUS - NIGHT
CLOSE - THE GUN - STILL WHIRLING on the pavement, slowly dying.
Then, it SLOWLY... STOPS... SPINNING.
CLOSE ON THE GUY'S FACE. He's out. Blood's seeping from his nose. We only HEAR Roz's footsteps. Her boots stop in front of him. She touches him with her boot. Then, rears back a leg, and KICKS HIM IN THE STOMACH -- HARD. He doesn't even flinch.
CAMERA MOVES DOWN HIS BODY. We see Roz's hands -- they pull a chain attached to his belt -- a wallet slides out of his back pocket. She takes a wad of cash out of it.
CLOSE -- THE GUN. We hear Roz's footsteps. Her foot touches the gun, then kicks it deftly into a storm drain.
WIDER -- She walks on across the street. CAMERA reveals a restaurant. The neon reads, FORMOSA CAFE. A couple leaves as Roz walks in. For a moment, all we HEAR is the traffic.
INT. THE FORMOSA - SIMULTANEOUS - NIGHT
Roz walks to the bar. She sits. A BARTENDER walks over to her.
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BARTENDER
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| | What can I do you for tonight...
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| She spreads out the cash on the bar like a deck of cards.
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ROZ
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| | Tequila... for everyone.
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911 VOICE (o.c.) |
| | 911. Is this an emergency?
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| INT. THE FORMOSA -- THE PAY PHONE
Roz is on the phone -- there's a twisted-up tension in her voice.
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ROZ
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| | There's a guy hurt in the road. Yeah, bad. He's still breathing. Santa Monica at Formosa. No. Nothing.
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SMASH CUT TO:
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| A FLASH/AN ABSTRACT IMAGE
Like a replay -- we see what he sees -- a GHOSTLY, SLOW-MOTION IMAGE OF ROZ, just the briefest glimpse of her face.
EXT. FLETCHER'S HOUSE - SIMULTANEOUS
Fletcher puts both hands to his head, as if he were trying to stop the buzzing inside. A big smile comes over his face.
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FLETCHER
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| | I got her...
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| He's charged up. There's a gleam in his eye. He heads back into the house.
INT. FLETCHER'S HOUSE - NIGHT
DINING ROOM - A big, pine dining-room table covered with stuff. Fletcher violently sweeps all the junk off on the floor.
THE WALLS -- His hands start picking off selected pictures of women. We can't help but notice that THEY ALL RESEMBLE ROZ in a general, vague way.
THE TABLE -- CLOSE ON A PILE OF PICTURES he has selected. He sits down with a pair of scissors, a gluestick and a stack of construction paper. He starts cutting up the photos -- a nose here, a pair of eyes there, one girl's ears, another's hair. He starts to paste them together on a piece of construction paper. He's assembling the image of the woman he saw in his mind. A face starts to take form. It DOES look a little like Roz, as we notice when we,
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CUT TO:
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| INT. A FORMOSA CAFE BOOTH - NIGHT
CLOSE, ROZ'S FACE, SMILING, SLOW MOTION. Then, the scene SNAPS TO REALITY. Roz is in a booth with friends. Across from her is a polished, attractive woman, ELAINE, her best friend; and TOMAS, a great-looking guy from Argentina. Next to her is BRIGITTE, an aspiring sex kitten. Tomas is her catch for the evening.
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BRIGITTE
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| | Tomas owns ELEVEN polo ponies -- all thoroughbreds.
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| Roz is barely there. She is sketching something on the paper on the tabletop.
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TOMAS
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| | That is nothing really. My father, he has twenty two.
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| We see that Roz's drawing is a impression of the attacker, made in deep, agitated strokes...
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ELAINE
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| | Hey, what's with YOU tonight? You haven't said a word.
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| She scratches it out quickly.
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TOMAS
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| | Can I get you something? A pill?
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ROZ
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| | No, just let me out, I wanna check on my truck.
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ELAINE
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| | Did you put the club on with the lock pointing towards the steering wheel? You have to do that. They know how to knock the locks off now.
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ROZ
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| | EXCUSE me... I gotta check my truck.
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TOMAS
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| | I hope you are feel better.
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| Brigitte gives him a dirty look as she lets Roz out. Roz gets up and walks to the front of the room.
THE DOOR -- Roz stands near the door and looks out to the street where her attacker was laying. The guy is gone.
THE WINDOW -- she focuses on her reflected face in the glass...
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DISSOLVE TO:
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| INT. TEXAS HOUSE - DINING ROOM TABLE - NIGHT
A FACE MADE OF CUTOUTS -- Nearby, Fletcher's asleep on the table.
INT. THE CAFE BOOTH - LOS ANGELES - AN HOUR LATER
The table is littered with dishes. The stories go on. Roz has got to get out of there.
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ROZ
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| | I need to go home, everyone.
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BRIGITTE
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| | We should get going, anyway.
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TOMAS
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| | Yes, we are going dancing. Would both of you like to come?
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ELAINE
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| | Well, I don't know.
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| Tomas throws down a hundred dollar bill to pay. It catches Roz's eye. It seems she can't help herself as she shoots Tomas a look and says,
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ROZ
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| | I gotta go home. But, can you walk me to my truck? I had to park down the street. It's a bad neighborhood.
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TOMAS
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| | My pleasure.
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BRIGITTE
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(taking his arm) |
| | We'll drive you. | |
(glaring at her) |
| | But hold on, I gotta pottie first.
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ELAINE
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| | I'll go with you.
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| They dive into the crowd. Tomas is left with Roz. He smiles.
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ROZ
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| | Don't bother.
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TOMAS
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| | No, it is my pleasure to help you. You are ill.
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| He touches her arm.
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TOMAS (cont'd) |
| | You know, you are very attractive to me.
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ROZ |
| | Not tonight, Tomas. Bad timing.
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TOMAS
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| | Another night?
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| She hesitates... it's enough to give him a flash of encouragement.
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ROZ
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| | What about... uh, Brigitte?
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TOMAS
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| | I think she wants me for my money.
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ROZ
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| | Uh, huh.
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| The girls are pushing back through the barflies.
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ROZ (cont'd)
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| | I'm listed. R. Willoughby. Initial "R" for Rosalyn. On Sycamore.
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BRIGITTE
(arriving)
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| | FORGET IT... there's twenty girls in line...
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ELAINE
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| | Let's try the boy's room.
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| EXT. AN APARTMENT BUILDING - NIGHT
Roz's truck pulls into a parking space in front of an apartment building. It's late. A SIREN wails in the distance. She locks up the car and then, just sits there. She's trying to work up the courage to walk to her apartment.
CLOSER, ROSALYN -- As she starts to cry. It grows to genuine sobbing. Then, through an act of sheer will, she stops crying completely, wipes her eyes with her sleeve, and gets out.
EXT. THE SAN ANTONIO HOUSE - DAWN
Sun is filtering thru the live-oaks. A mockingbird lands on top of one of the odd rock piles that dot the yard.
INT. HOUSE/LIVING ROOM - DAWN
Fletcher is asleep on the dining room table. He's surrounded by the composite faces of his Dream-Girl. Suddenly, with a jolt, he opens his eyes.
A BOOKCASE -- He walks over to it, trying to wake up. He looks for a book, finds it. It's a World Atlas.
THE TABLE -- He sits down and opens the book. He flips to the Asia map. His finger touches the island of Taiwan. In italics, it also reads: "FORMOSA". He closes the book and brushes the hair out of his eyes.
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FLETCHER
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| | I'm in love with a Chinese chick.
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| He grabs the pictures on the table.
EXT. FLETCHER'S GARDEN - DAY
His hands reach down and pick up a big piece of limestone from a large pile of rocks. It's so heavy, he can barely lift it. He puts it in a wheelbarrow with a bunch of other rocks.
THE FRONT YARD -- He dumps the rocks out on the ground. He takes the biggest one and sets it into the ground. He steps back and studies it, them moves it over a bit. He stacks another rock on the big one. He's building the stones into a pile, ending with a stack of tiny rocks at the top. It's a CAIRN, a stone monument. He tops it off by hanging one of the composite pictures of his Dream-Girl from the top of it, like an altar. He sits on the grass and stares at it.
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THE IMAGE DISSOLVES INTO:
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| INT. ROZ'S BEDROOM - LOS ANGELES - MORNING
CLOSE, Roz's face. She's in bed, asleep. The phone rings. She rolls over.
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ROZ
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| | ...yeah...
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TOMAS' VOICE
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| | Buenos Dias Rosalyn.
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ROZ
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| | Who's this?
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(her brain switches into gear)
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| | Could this be... TOMAS?
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| EXT. A WILD SECTION OF THE SAN ANTONIO RIVER - DAY
A Bach brass duet fills the air. It's not a recording though, its sounds are coming from:
A TUBA -- CAMERA slips down from the bell of the tuba to reveal a slender, weathered hand playing the keys. We see that the instrument is being played by a demurely-dressed, white-haired woman, IDA McBRACKEN. CAMERA WIDENS MORE to reveal that she is sitting in a tiny row boat in the middle of the calm, green river. With her is Fletcher, in his own boat, playing a cornet. It's a beautiful little duet, but Ida stops it after a few bars.
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FLETCHER
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| | What?
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IDA
|
| | Something's changed. Your playing is different.
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FLETCHER
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| | How?
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IDA
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| | It's your tone... different. So. What's her name?
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FLETCHER
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| | I don't know.
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IDA
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| | You pictured her! FINALLY.
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FLETCHER
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| | You know I don't quite buy that stuff -- Dad's vision and going to find Mom.
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IDA
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| | It happened to your grandfather too. He picked me out of a crowded streetcar. Even knew I had this mole on my neck, even though I had a coat on.
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FLETCHER
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| | Maybe it used to be easier to believe than now.
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| Ida just looks at him. There's nothing she can say.
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IDA
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| | We should play the Verdi now. Maybe it will knock something loose.
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| And she counts off the lead. They start to play, LA TRAVIATA's Prelude. Fletcher closes his eyes and plays. He's lost in the music. We PULL BACK and see them alone on the river, playing together. The music takes us to:
INT. A BEVERLY HILLS RESTAURANT - DAY
A quiet little place near Robertson Drive. Roz is dressed for the hunt, something tight and clingy, picking at a salad. Tomas is all smiles. They sit together at a small table.
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ROZ
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| | Now, you know, I have rules. I insist we go dutch.
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TOMAS
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| | I know, you told me. But this is difficult for me.
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ROZ
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| | Welcome to modern living. Check your club at the door.
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TOMAS
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| | It makes me happy to be generous to a woman.
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ROZ
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| | And it makes you very happy to have a woman feel obligated later.
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TOMAS
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| | No, no. This is not true. You are a feminist, yes?
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ROZ
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| | I've just had some men take advantage of me in the past.
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TOMAS
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| | So, what does make you happy?
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ROZ
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| | If I told you, you would laugh.
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TOMAS
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| | No. Really.
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ROZ
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| | My passion is... contemporary art.
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TOMAS
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WONDERFUL. A connoisseur?
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ROZ
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I guess you'd say that. It just means a lot to me.
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TOMAS
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You must be very sensitive.
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ROZ
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I am.
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But the look in her eye is cold as chrome as she smiles.
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...TO BE CONTINUED AT A THEATRE NEAR YOU... |
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