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NOOSEWORTHY (First half)
By The Host
This is the screenplay for a short film that I wrote, lit, edited, and directed a few months ago. It's not too long. Hope you enjoy!
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NOOSEWORTHY
by
Matt Boudreau
SUPER ON BLACK:
On November 4 1998, something extraordinary happened.
Very few people, until now, knew of it.
Fewer cared. . .
WALTER (V.O.)
There was a time I would have cared. . .
CUT TO:
INT. NEWSROOM -- NIGHT
WALTER RATHER, a wizened news reporter, sits morosely in a chair, eyes staring through the floor. Across from him sits CHRISTA CONNING, a young producer, quiet and hesitant. She listens intently, if perhaps uncomfortably, to the old man speak.
WALTER (CONT’D)
Not now, though . . . Not anymore . . . That was a very long time ago.
(Beat; looking up)
You’re young, though. You’re new. Maybe you’ll like it here. Maybe you’ll bring some sanity to the place. Competence. Intelligence. They’ve been in short supply lately.
(Beat; looking down again)
I’m old. An old dog. I can’t learn these new tricks.
He chuckles to himself, quietly, caustically. Then he stands.
WALTER (CONT’D)
I’ve gotta go. Emergency meeting; I’m late. Oh, well. Good luck here.
He strides off. Christa remains seated and silent. She tracks him with her eyes as he leaves.
FADE TO BLACK.
SUPER TITLE.
FADE IN. . .
INT. CONFERENCE ROOM -- NIGHT
A nondescript room dominated by an expansive table. Seated on one side is haggard producer WILLIAM FIELD; across from him sits the dashing reporter HARRY BACON. At the head of the table stands executive producer SID SMILEY.
SID
The Twenty Minutes news team detected about three hours ago a message of alien origin. I mean, literally, alien. It seems to have emanated from around the star Proxima Centauri, and was directed toward the Sun. Our satellites managed to intercept it en route. This, my friends, is what they call a momentous occasion.
WILLIAM
The White House has heard of this, right?
SID
They would have issued a press release if they’d heard. Every goddamned Congressman, Senator, aide and lackey would have issued a press release. The President would have issued a press release announcing his forthcoming press release. No, they haven’t heard of this.
WILLIAM
What about the military? They must have hundreds of satellites that would intercept just this sort of thing.
SID
We have more of them, and more technologically advanced, too. Every single—
Every head in the room spins as the door opens and Walter steps in. There is a brief silence as Walter quickly scans the room.
WALTER
I’m sorry I’m late—
SID
(Interrupting)
You haven’t been invited.
A pause. Walter is incredulous.
WALTER
Excuse me? But I—
SID
Walter, this is an emergency production meeting, and you haven’t been invited.
WALTER
I—
SID
You’ll find out about all this soon enough, Walter. Now please excuse us.
Walter, stunned, looks fleetingly at Harry, who smiles devilishly. Sid continues to stare at him. William averts his gaze. The air is electric. Finally, Walter slips out of the room and, collecting himself, Sid turns back to the others and speaks again.
SID
Well, where were we?
CUT TO BLACK.
FADE IN. . .
INT. NEWSROOM -- NIGHT
Walter and Christa and William and producer HERBERT SPENGLER, a tall, brazen sort, are assembled around a table in the newsroom. The table is heaped with papers and coffee cups. Christa writes in a notebook; Herb chews on a donut; Walter seems utterly uninterested.
WILLIAM
The message is audio only. We considered hiring an artist to paint a rendition of what we think the aliens might look like, to punt on-screen while we play the message, but we figured it’d be cheaper just to buy a production photo from a film studio. We’ve narrowed it down to the queen alien from the movie Alien, or else that one from E.T.
CHRISTA
Isn’t that a tad misleading?
William just stares at Christa a moment, unblinking.
HERB
What about the one from that X-Files episode last week?
WILLIAM
Timely, but I don’t think the execs would want to purchase anything from a rival network. Anyway, we’ll figure that out later. First, what spin are we going to put on this? We alone have the story right now. We can say whatever we’d like.
HERB
What about celebrity reactions? People love celebrities. We might even get some sci-fi stars and ask them what they think. They could be, like, experts. Wasn’t Richard Dreyfuss an alien in that one movie?
WILLIAM
No, he was the human.
CHRISTA
How can we get celebrity reactions when celebrities don’t even know about it yet?
Another pause. Herb and William then speak together, quietly.
HERB
You know, she might be right.
WILLIAM
That’s okay. We’ll save that idea for later.
Each nods, and William addresses the entire group once again.
WILLIAM (CONT’D)
We’re going to need experts, though. Who do you suggest?
WALTER
(Sardonically)
The usual experts?
WILLIAM
Who else? What sort of experts are there on aliens?
HERB
Why don’t we call Jim Massey?
CHRISTA
I thought Jim Massey was an expert on avionics.
HERB
That was two weeks ago.
WILLIAM
Jim sounds fine to me. But can we get some kind of translator? For the message, I mean.
HERB
You mean they can’t speak English?
Walter harrumphs. Herb shoots him a glance and then turns back to William.
WILLIAM
Of course not.
HERB
What do you mean? Jesus, English is the language of business. Everybody on the goddamn planet can speak English. Even the goddamn Aboriginates in Australia—
CHRISTA
I think you mean Aborigines, and most of them don’t speak English.
HERB
I know what I goddamn mean. I’ve interviewed Mel Gibson, and he’s practically from Australia.
WILLIAM
It doesn’t matter. They don’t speak English.
HERB
You mean they have all of this technology, to send a signal through space all that way, and they can’t even speak English?
HARRY BACON (V.O.)
I’m surrounded by idiots.
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Let me know what you think.
-The Host
COPYRIGHT (C) Matt Boudreau and Khan Filmworks 2002. All rights reserved.
8/29/2002 1:34:39 AM
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