Remember-Me-Script.pdf

MEMOIRS

Will Fetters

Revised:

October 27 2008

EXT. SMITH STREET STATION -- BROOKLYN -- NIGHT

It's very late. It's quiet. Just the sounds of The City.

A WOMAN in her late thirties, wearing a hospital ID on a

lanyard around her neck, waits alone at one end of the station

platform. We meet her silhouetted against the Lower Manhattan

skyline where we find The Twin Towers of the World Trade Center

still standing in the distance.

TWO TEENAGE BOYS with hand drawn gang tats wait at the other

end of the platform. They speak loud, SLURRED SPANISH to each

other and pass a menthol cigarette between them. They appear

to notice the Woman waiting alone and begin towards her.

The Woman stares straight ahead. As the boys approach, she

tenses. At the last second the boys make a hard left turn and

disappear down the stairwell back to the street without so

much as glancing at her. It's quiet again.

The Woman exhales, allows a little smile at her own paranoia.

Her green eyes are illuminated by the halogen bulb of a TRAIN

rounding the final bend into the station.

Her focus is on this train. It's getting closer, louder.

And so she doesn't see, doesn't hear the Boys coming back up

the stairwell behind her.

Not until they have her boxed in and the one who can hardly

grow a mustache is showing her his concealed handgun.

The Woman knows what this is. Stays calm.

WOMAN

OK... just...

The train roars into station as the Woman quickly hands over

her purse, her watch, she removes her engagement ring and her

wedding band. She gives over the engagement ring. Hesitates.

WOMAN

Please... it's not worth much... to

you.

The Boys consider the thin gold band. One of them goes to

take it from her outstretched palm but he drops it. The ring

CLANGS to the ground and rolls to a stop a few feet away. The

other boy takes a step to pick it up but freezes when he

hears MEN'S VOICES echoing up the stairwell.

Now they're boxed in. And starting to panic.

The Train Doors slide open.

The Boys see their way out and step into the last empty rail

car. Leaving the Woman alone on the platform.

The Woman stands there staring blankly at her assailants'

faces -- THE TRAIN DOORS BEGIN TO CLOSE -- when a hand with

tattooed knuckles reaches out and stops them...

Just a forearm and gun extend out of that last subway car...

There's a muzzle flash... a distant POP... a cloud of

smoke... a mist of blood... and the Woman's body collapses on

itself.

EXT. SMITH STREET STATION -- LATER THAT NIGHT

A WORKING CRIME SCENE, lots of uniforms and light, a white

sheet draped over her body where it fell beside the tracks.

BLUE AND RED LIGHT dances against the stairwell wall where we

find a man taking the stairs two at a time. The man is in his

late thirties, plain clothes, piercing eyes, handsome, he is

SERGEANT JAMES CRAIG. When he reaches the platform. He stops.

Craig kneels before the white sheet. Peels it back. We stay

on him. We don't see what he sees. We just see how he sees

it. Then he notices...

THE WEDDING BAND. It's been tagged and numbered as evidence.

Craig picks it right out of the chalk outline.

Craig walking back now. He reaches the stairwell and suddenly

falls to one knee, bracing himself against the railing, he

clenches the ring in a white-knuckled fist. The closest

UNIFORM puts a hand on his shoulder. A moment. Composure. A

deep breath. Then as quickly as he went down. He's back up.

Craig looks back now, sees all the cops looking at him, he

nods to no one in particular then begins down the stairwell.

As Craig heads down, we DRIFT UP...above the station, above

those dots of light, above the yawning mass of the borough,

until we find ourselves once again with a clear view of the

southern tip of Manhattan where those TWIN TOWERS STAND TALL.

DISSOLVE TO:

A FRAMED PHOTOGRAPH: of the Lower Manhattan skyline as it was

with the World Trade Center still standing, preserved forever

in two-dimensions behind glass. This photo hangs on a wall

beside a Bob Dylan poster in a...

INT. TENEMENT BUILDING -- BEDROOM -- MORNING

SUBTITLE: " East Village, Three Years Later "

A cell phone vibrates on a night stand. We drift across the

room until we find... TYLER ROTH, early twenties, handsome,

lying beside a forgettable BLONDE, their intertwined limbs

hint to the passions of the prior evening.

Tyler rolls over and answers the phone.

Yeah...

(listens)

Of course. I’m on my way. I know...

I know...I know...I know...I

know...I know...............I know.

Tyler climbs out of bed, fishes a ragged packet of unfiltered

cigarettes out of a pair of jeans. He staggers to a window.

TYLER V/O

Gandhi once said that whatever you

do in life will be insignificant

but it is very important that you

do it...

Tyler sits in the window smoking. We observe a tattoo that

simply says " Michael " over his heart. His dark eyes fall on

that framed photograph of the World Trade Center.

TYLER V/O

...I tend to agree with the first

part.

EXT. CEMETERY -- MORNING

In Brooklyn. A cluster of MOURNERS stand before a tombstone

in the distance. A cab pulls to a stop. Tyler, in a rumpled

suit with no tie, gets out of the cab. Lights a cigarette and

pays the driver. He begins towards the mourners.

Tyler tosses his cigarette as he approaches his mother...

DIANE HOFFMAN, elegant beauty, past burdens etched in the

lines on her face. She smiles like someone who's been crying

but doesn't want anyone to know she's been crying.

TYLER

How are you mom?

DIANE

I'm fine... you look good...

TYLER

Tyler just smiles. Moves to greet his stepfather...

LES HOFFMAN, ponytail streaked in gray, tweed jacket and tie.

They exchange a firm handshake. Tyler's father...

CHARLES ROTH, late fifties, stoic, steel eyes, chiseled good

looks. He hardly even looks at Tyler.

CHARLES

You couldn't wear a tie?

TYLER

Good to see you dad.

Tyler approaches his baby sister, CAROLINE ROTH, a diminutive

eleven-year-old in spectacles. Tyler kneels beside her,

whispers.

TYLER

Thanks for the wake up call...

Caroline makes a face. Turns her nose away from him.

CAROLINE

You smell like Listerine and beer.

Tyler kisses her cheek. Stands beside her.

POV: The Tombstone. The five family members stand side-by-

side. They look like strangers on the subway.

INT. ATHLETIC CLUB -- LATER

A private dining room. The family sits together at breakfast.

An awkward silent ambiance. Tyler rolls a Bic lighter over

his knuckles. Caroline draws on her napkin. Charles reads the

Wall Street Journal. Les selects his tea bag.

DIANE

...This is nice... I think it's

nice that we still do this...

Michael would like that we do this.

Tyler takes out a cigarette. Lights it. Without saying a word

his mother takes it and snubs it out in an empty water glass.

DIANE

Did you tell Tyler what your art

teacher said about your portrait?

Caroline shakes her head. Keeps drawing.

Plik z chomika:

Inne pliki z tego folderu:

Inne foldery tego chomika: