This is the beginning of a screenplay I wrote based on my vampire novel of the same name. Yes, it's a different approach to novel writing; I had to excise much that was in the novel. The hard part isn't the writing, however, it's finding someone to read it. If you thought it was hard to place a book with an agent/publisher, try getting a reader in the business to look at your script!
There is a pathologist's scene, so please look away if you're squeamish...
You can read the text version as an excerpt
here
Legend:
V.O. = Voice off scene
EXT = Exterior
B.g = background
INT = Interior
Malta - Delimera Point
“DEATH IS ANOTHER LIFE”
FADE IN:
EXT.
AERIAL VIEW - MALTA - DAWN
A painted eye, red and white staring out of
a blue background, with an arching black brow.
Wide open, ever alert. The eye
of Osiris, to ward off evil. Painted on
the prow of a fishing boat.
We pull away, to see three small boats,
with huge night lamps hanging over their sterns, still lit but no competition
for the dawn spreading gold across the Mediterranean.
Sea-gulls circle, screeching, accompanied
by the muted chugging of motors and the lapping of the sea.
B.g. - cliffs of Malta, reddish-brown.
The eyes on their boats are old
superstition and they don’t work. Evil
is already on the islands.
Two fishermen with cigarettes dangling from
their mouths struggle to haul in their
net.
Water sluices off and they see a human arm
protruding through, then the rest of a naked body.
EXT.
FISHING BOAT - DAY
The fisherman crosses himself and says
something to his companion.
The other fisherman flicks his cigarette
butt into the sea then pulls out a cell-phone from a food-basket under the
seat.
DR
CARUANA (V.O.)
The
smell isn’t too bad. Fish have eaten the
contents of the
stomach
and intestines.
CUT
TO:
INT.
MORGUE - DAY
Floriana Morgue. The clock on the wall says
17:45. The ticking is faint but can be
heard above the sounds of flesh being professionally sliced. We just heard DR CARUANA, 60, a pathologist,
speaking into a suspended microphone.
Beside him is his daughter, MARIA CARUANA,
30. Attractive. She’s Maltese-American,
a reporter. Both are in green scrubs and
gloves. Cream on her upper lip to combat
bad odours. The rest of the staff have
gone.
The cadaver on the metal autopsy table is
female, the front of her torso gaping from throat to pubis. Her skin has a pulpy sickly white sheen to
it. Maria points to the gaping wound.
MARIA
Hey, Dad, this
isn’t your usual ‘Y’-cut.
He ignores her comment and removes the
woman’s lungs. Weighs them.
(He switches the mike on before reading out
the weight of each body part then switches it off).
DR CARUANA
Lungs: 1.2 kilograms. And before you ask,
she’s Doris Tabone, the heiress.
MARIA
I know, I can’t use it in my paper just yet.
He glances up, notices the crucifix
dangling from his daughter’s neck.
DR CARUANA
You’re still wearing your mother’s necklace.
MARIA
Her dying wish. (Defiantly) It doesn’t change
how I feel about religion.
DR CARUANA
Maria, Maria, you were always too hard on her beliefs.
He removes the heart, places this on the
scales.
DR CARUANA (CONT’D)
Heart: 280 grams.
I envied her deep faith, you know.
As a scientist, I’ve lost that simplicity, that sureness.
MARIA
But you were never close.
DR CARUANA
We were, my dear. You were too young to notice.
When she left, taking you to America,
a light went out in my world.
It’s the liver’s turn for the scales.
DR CARUANA (CONT’D)
Liver: 1.4 kilograms.
MARIA
(accusingly)
But you never came after us!
DR CARUANA
I wanted to, but my work -
MARIA
You were always bringing
the smell of death home.
DR CARUANA
So - I’m grateful you brought her back,
even if only to die here.
MARIA
It’s what she wanted.
Her mouth suddenly twists.
MARIA (CONT’D)
What’s that?
INSERT - GAPING CAVITY OF BODY
A white-and-red speckled ganglion.
BACK TO SCENE
MARIA (CONT’D)
It looks like an umbilical--
He lifts up the
cord-like appendage and nods, eyes suddenly very sad.
DR CARUANA
She was pregnant.
There’s no sign of the baby.
MARIA
These cuts - they were done with a knife.
DR CARUANA
Sacrificial.
MARIA
Oh, God, the baby was cut out of her, wasn’t it?
DR CARUANA
Probably.
MARIA
Dad, I don’t deal in probabilities - only facts!
DR CARUANA
Yes, sacrifice.
MARIA
Jesus! (Beat) She isn’t the
first, is she?
DR CARUANA
I’ve had my suspicions for a few months.
MARIA
Suspicions! What, like Black
Magic?
DR CARUANA
Probably.
MARIA
You’re joking, Dad. Black
Magic here –
an island with a church for every day of the year?
DR CARUANA
Yes, but if you went to church you’d see the congregation is
of a certain age - and mostly old women.
MARIA
What will you do?
DR CARUANA
Nothing. I’m too near to
pension.
I just want to retire with my roses on Gozo.
MARIA
(outraged)
Well, I’m not going to let it lie. She deserves better.
I’m going to find out which twisted pervert did this!
CUT TO:
MONTAGE -
LIBRARIES - DAY
A) Cathedral crypt. Maria leafing through a
very old book padlocked to the wall.
Making notes.
B) University library. Well-stocked shelves.
Maria scanning microfiches.
C) Private library. Maria reading computer
screen, typing while surrounded by medieval shields, swords on the walls, with
bookshelves between them.
D) Public library. Maria annoyed at obviously
not finding anything useful. On the shelf, a Book of Mediterranean Birds.
AZZOPARDI (V.O.)
We must stamp on the ugly face of crime!
It is ruining our children’s futures!
CUT TO:
EXT. AERIAL VIEW - VALLETTA - DAY
A flock of big
black birds -- Black Kites -- flying over Valletta Harbour, over the liners and
steam-ships, the walled city, down to Queen’s Square, just off Republic Street
...
... where a
crowd of people gather, listening to a loud brass band.
A garish float
follows the band then stops outside the Caffé Cordina whose tables are ranged
on the street and across the road in the square. In a corner of the square is the black statue
of Queen Victoria.
On the float is
a National Party politician, Manuel AZZOPARDI, a megaphone in his hands. Above him is a banner showing his name and
party.
AZZOPARDI
Malta is not the centre of the universe.
We must pay our way.
The black birds,
not perturbed by the music and noise, perch on a roof-top, sinister, watching,
and...
EXT/INT. QUEEN’S SQUARE/CAFFÉ CORDINA - DAY
... Maria
notices them and turns away, uncomfortable at their appearance. She’s sitting opposite Detective Sergeant
Francis ATTARD, 42, at a table in the square.
He’s a rather portly man in crumpled tan suit, open-necked shirt. We can see the belt holster and revolver
under his jacket folds. Maria is in a
colourful sleeveless dress.
Their sea-food
meal is half-finished. They sip white
Marsovin wine.
MARIA
It’s good of you to see me, Francis,
at such short notice.
ATTARD
I spend most of my lunch-breaks here,
watching the world go by.
And not watching my weight!
Many of the
tables are occupied, the diners idly curious about the antics of Azzopardi, who
is overweight and sweating in his dark suit and tie. Others couldn’t care less. There’s the sound of cutlery, dishes, loud
talking, the hubbub of passers-by.
Police in tan
uniforms and Ray-ban sunglasses stand at regular intervals along the
procession’s route up Republic Street. Waiters and waitresses weave between the
tables. Nobody is in any particular hurry.
AZZOPARDI
We must get things done today,
not next month, not next year!
A waiter rushes
through the crowd and leans over Attard.
Attard gets up
and follows the waiter through the crowd ...
INTO CAFFÉ
CORDINA ...
... and passes
two men, ZONDADARI, 40s, and BONELLO, 35, sitting by the window as he makes for
the wall-mounted phone in the contrasting dark interior of the café ...
Zondadari is
reflected in the ornate gilt mirror on opposite wall. He’s handsome: the REFLECTION reveals a badly
scarred RIGHT cheek, glinting eyes and a smile playing on his lips. He is talking to Bonello who looks tired and
drawn, eyes sunken yet filled with a strange light.
ZONDADARI
Now, Bonello, is the time to exert your
leadership of the New Power Party.
Just concentrate very hard and your
opponent won’t know what hit him.
BONELLO
I will try, Count Zondadari.
Bonello closes
his eyes and his face hardens. Oblivious
to his surroundings...
... while Maria
is leaning over the back of her seat, watching Azzopardi the politician.
Azzopardi stops a
moment to bite on a sandwich a pretty girl helper has given him. Then:
AZZOPARDI
A vote for me is a vote for the future of these
magnificent islands! Vote Azzopardi!
Which is the
signal for the band to start again. And, as if disturbed by the sound of the
brass instruments, the black kites flap their wings, take off and drop towards
the float, circling Azzopardi, suddenly covering his face.
Some onlookers
scream.
Azzopardi tries
batting the birds away with the megaphone.
A bird snatches his sandwich and flies off.
And Azzopardi
overbalances, the birds still surrounding him.
He falls off the
float... as a policeman withdraws his revolver and shoots it in the air,
chasing the birds away.
People run back,
screaming, fearful.
While Azzopardi
falls directly under the wheels of the following limousine.
Whistles blow,
police rush through the panicking crowd. The band players stop, though not in
unison, it’s a squawking cacophony... followed by silence...
While Maria,
having seen it all, closes her eyes and...
...Bonello opens
his eyes, looking quite pleased with himself.
He’s flushed, looks down, grateful his lap is covered with a napkin.
ZONDADARI
Enjoy that, then?
BONELLO
Yes, very much.
ZONDADARI
Remember, that was possible through
the sacrifice of a new life.
BONELLO
Yes... as you keep reminding me!
ZONDADARI
Just think what more is possible in this
election.
The New Power Party can’t lose!
Attard passes
their table, heading outside to finish his meal with Maria. Attard notices the
commotion and stops to talk with a policeman. He shakes his head, pats the cop
on the shoulder and walks up to Maria’s table.
ATTARD
(to Maria)
I’ve got to give evidence at the
Law Courts in an hour.
MARIA
Can I have the story?
ATTARD
Sure. Family feud. The usual.
Sitting down, he
thumbs back at the crowd.
ATTARD (CONT’D)
Looks like his policies took a nose-dive.
Maria pushes the
plate away, no longer hungry.
MARIA
It was an awful accident.
At least, I think it was an accident.
ATTARD
Hey, don’t get paranoid on me. I doubt if there’s
anything in your father’s suspicions, but I’ll
dig up any strange goings-on in our reports, okay?
MARIA
(shaking her head)
You didn’t see those birds. They seemed
to know what they were doing.
Attard is cutting
open a pawpaw with a fruit knife from his pocket. Eating it. Wiping his mouth with a paper
handkerchief.
Maria pulls
herself together.
MARIA (CONT’D)
Okay, Francis, get me anything you can
find in your musty old police files.
ATTARD
The supernatural. Do you believe in it?
MARIA
No. I just
want the story. Something that’ll
push Azzopardi’s death off of page one.
ATTARD
Well, I do.
And it scares me.
She gives him a
look of disbelief.
ATTARD (CONT’D)
Three years ago I was called in by
the curator of Ghar Dalam cave.
MARIA
I read about that in George’s back issues. You were
lucky to
get out alive.
But I don’t remember anything supernatural...
ATTARD
Yes, I was lucky.
Not like the poor priest.
DISSOLVE TO:
EXT. GHAR
DALAM MUSEUM - DAY (THREE YEARS AGO)
... and there we'll leave it. The script was finished some time ago, the standard length, 150 pages. Note the white space - lots of it. Speech is kept to a minimum, also. I try to limit the instructions to the actors (in brackets) - they prefer to interpret the emotions of the characters.
