The Turn (24th March 2009)

I came across this script I attempted to write and complete for a friend of mine earlier this year. He's doing a course in Direction. He wanted something slick and Guy Ritchie-esque and I guess I got a little carried away.
(So what else is new?)

Disclaimer: this was an email directed at said friend, so excuse the lower case and haphazard structure.
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Scene: there's a stray dog. the camera moves in closer and a hand reaches out with a piece of bred or something. the dog snatches the bread as the voice begins: (camera moves from dog to the ground and his feet.. and the rest follows)

"It's a dog eat dog world mate, a dog eat dog world. I mean, in today's world, all one needs to learn to do is keep your cards close to your chest, and bet big when the hand comes along. Don't trust nobody, look over your shoulder and smile at the pretty ladies that walk by." (here there'll be three attractive women going by and we show them grinning in acknowledgement at the protagonist)

(distracted) "So as I was saying, in the world today, a simple fucker like you or me can't make it without a set of rules, a code. You do your business and you watch your possessions carefully." (camera is at chest level as he removes his rolex and looks at the time.)

"You wake up in the morning, have your cup of coffee, walk out the door with a happy face and some money in your pocket and you face the day. Go to work, go to the park, go to the fucking pub if you need to, but you get up and just go somewhere, you know? I mean honestly, how many of you fuckers (the camera pans across the street, focuses on the pedestrians and there's cars too) manage to make your day's keep eh? The world is filled with slimy, despicable filth mate. Nobody's clean, not even your own fucking mum. It's a shame there's no one around to clean up these streets, to do some good in this bloody old world." (camera reaches his face, he stares straight into the camera, takes a blade out from his pocket and cuts his forehead slightly) "I mean, how's a man supposed to make an honest living, eh?"

(he smiles, suddenly straightens his face, blood dripping from his head, takes a few steps and gets hit by a car. he groans and the driver rushes out to see if he's ok. driver helps him up, looks frantic, gazes around to see if there are any cops. our protagonist staggers a bit, holds his head, there are a few gestures made and within ten seconds the driver takes a wad of cash out from his wallet, places his hand supportively on the protagonist (let's call him "bob" for quick reference) and acts apologetically. briskly moves to his car and drives off. as he's driving off, bob limps towards the camera with a pained expression, which quickly transforms to an evil grin and he continues walking)

(all through this scene, there will be no noise. this is where we introduce his line of work, by way of a narrative, so it continues straight from when he steps onto the street and towards a booze store. the rest of this narrative will be quick, and he will swig his little bottle on the way to the bar to meet ricky, that way his alcoholism is conveyed)

"The thing is, I don't. I'm an artist, a grifter. Sort of like Robin Hood. Except I don't have a crew. And I don't wear fucking tights. I pull the small con, I find these douches that can't think right, simple enough marks, and I give them a run for their money. Literally. I mean if you have the money and not enough sense to protect it from the two-bit scum that walks these streets, you don't deserve it now do you? How many times have you looked at the change the cashier gives you? How many times have you taken someone's word for it? How many times have you put your faith blindly on something, without really having a go over it in your head? That's it mate. That's confidence. And I'm one of the best." (pause) "I've been living off of it since I was a kid; my mum couldn't pay the bills and my dad... well he wasn't in the picture much. Someone's gots to put the bacon on the table, right? It started out with petty stuff, stealing veggies and all that. But I soon learnt that there's a better way of taking stuff from folks. Right under their noses, taking it with their consent. When the prick comes out and gives you his money, his food, his liquor, you know you've earned it. My mum, the poor lady saw the pearly gates 'cause of pneumonia and now I'm on me own and I have to say, I couldn't have it better. I've been stashing away some for a while now, with all these grifts and a couple more should put me into retirement. Then it'll be on a boat some place on the mediterranean and our boy can have the easy life, maybe settle down with a girl from Spain; those girls are always fit; and make a couple babies before I knock it, eh?" (pause, as he imagines it in his head, and nods) "Yeah, sounds about right."


(he pushes the door open and walks into the bar, there's loud music playing and he scans the tables for his friend ricky. locates him, they exchange a warm hug and a smile, and sit down. the narration continues, now focusing on ricky, as bob starts describing how similar him and ricky are and how they are friends from back in the day. there's a close up of ricky holding a 20 pound note up towards the bartender, asks for a round of beer, the beer comes and the camera watches him switch the note into a £10 and he takes the change.)

There you go. I had bigger dreams for this than a mere blog post. Maybe one day I'll add to the story and take it further... maybe. Thanks for reading you lovely readers you.