Excerpt from a script Im writing. No title yet Opening scene [black screen] Narrator/lead: of all of the things I could do in America, I decided to move to france and be a mortician. The French call it, entrepreneur de funèbres. I mean sure, people are probably curious why I chose this job of all the jobs in the world, couldve been a doctor, a policeman, anything - But I chose this. Way I see it, sure a doctor makes people healthy and happy, I made people a different happy. [black fades to a man (narrator) digging a grave in a small town in france, 1953] Narrator: What I mean is, it made people happy to see their loved ones one last time, which isnt an easy task if decomposition kicks in.. [narrator stops digging, wiping his head, looking up into the sky, he is about Twenty-Three in age, Lean, but lanky, with a military-style haircut slicked worn slicked back, with a pencil mustache] [Shot of him dragging a body with a bloody shirt near the hole, he pushes him into it, grunting, then standing up and sighing, cut to black] Narrator: Id consider myself more of an undertaker now.. You see, you may not have known this but The Italian mafia had a presence in France. If somebody betrayed the family, they would flee here and try to start over, This is where I come in, Lets say somebody dies but the world cant know they died, they just need to disapear.. I put the ashes of the ones who disappear under the coffins lining, or just bury them in a ditch somewhere. Im kind of like a magician, if you know what I mean. [Cut to a basement dimly lit by moonlight and oil lanturns, camera pans to a man tied to a chair, gagged] Narrator: After a while, they got sick of coming to france just to make them disappear, so I was asked if I could perform the disappearing act every so often to keep the icebox filled. [End Narration, Narrator is now physically seen speaking to the gagged man for clarification purpose] [Narrator is seen standing before the gagged man with a street-sweeper shotgun (illegally modified automatic sawed-off) Narrator: [in french w/ subtitles] I could tell you it isnt anything personal, but Im not a liar. I dont accept a job unless I want to. Quite Frankly, youre a repulsive bastard and you make me sick. Pedophiles are like worms, and they should live underground with the worms. However, Ill be empathetic to the fact that you know its coming. Im going to ask you one time, dont answer me until I say so. Im going to take the gag off. [Narrator walks into shot from the left side of the room with a small shotgun over his shoulder, and ungags the man. He gasps] Narrator: Now, my question is, should I shoot you in the head or the chest. Think hard about if you want an open casket, this is your last will. If you cannot decide, or beg for you life, I will shoot you in the dick before I ask you again. Now whatll it be? [The man stalls saying anything for a minute, right before he is about to talk he is interupted] Narrator: Im sorry, [shotgun lowered again] Narrator: Ill give you a minute to think about that one, it isnt often I meet people who arent dead. Never bothered me, I was exposed to death at a young age. The only death that affected me was a long time ago. You got time to listen? [Narrator smirks] [Camera fades to imagery of the following] Narrator: My father had bought a dog shortly before I was born, his name was Otis. From the time I was born, that dog was my best friend. We went everywhere n did everything together. One day, when I was about Twelve, I was outside taking care of the chickens, I saw Otis laying down, but he was giving me a look and breathing funny. I sat down next to him, felt his gasps, and I knew he was dying, I laid down beside him and wrapped my arm around him, talking to him. I felt his last breath and watched him close his eyes. I cried for weeks, and any death after that has never been a big deal for me. [back to basement scene, camera focused on the narrator lighting his cigarette] Narrator: You know whats weird though? He is the only dog Ive ever heard of that went towards a person when he was dying, they usually run off into the woods, but Otis just wanted to see me one more time.. He knows and I know when youre gone youre gone; its us who miss the dead, the dead dont exist. [narrator stands back up from crouching position] Narrator: Now, I know I said Im not a liar, but when I asked you to consider if you wanted an open casket, I was joking. The truth of the matter is that youll be lucky if I even dig a hole for you. Bastard Butreux: Eat my shit, yankee b- [when the muzzle flash and bang from the gun happen, the camera cuts to black, and Le Cactus by Jacques Dutronc starts playing, seconds later a shot of a man in 1960s london (narrator) is shown walking the streets]
Posted on: Sat, 16 Nov 2013 04:00:40 +0000
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