Snow white/white snoW: Part 3

Hi all!  I know this was due out yesterday but due to an acute case of "I'm your yellow fever vaccine and I'd prefer you to not do ANYTHING today" I was unable to.  So here it is, one day late.  My apologies.

Part 1:  http://www.pspizza.net/2010/11/snow-whitewhite-snow.html
Part 2:  http://www.pspizza.net/2010/11/snow-whitewhite-snow-part-two.html

Part 3:

[We re-open on the office, now in normal speed.  Anton and Sara are sitting across from Sara’s desk where past-Sara is working.  The rest of the office is empty and she works alone.]

Sara:  It was for some kind of new sink, they said it was like reinventing how we would wash dishes or something.  They always said that, that X was the new Y and would revolutionize how we would think of Y forever.  My job was to help the small company in Tulsa or Bismark or wherever sell the garbage to everyone they could.

Anton:  Zombie.

Sara (punching him lightly in the arm):  No!  Well…maybe.  Alright, most of the time.  But you know, stepping-stones.

Anton:  To?

Sara:  I always wanted to have my own design studio, to work for the clients I chose not the ones they threw at me.  If one day I just wanted to make cute pictures of puppies I could, just…just freedom.

Anton (leaning close against the wall, looking down at his hands):  I understand.  I understand.

[Fade to black.]

[Anton and Sara sit in chairs at a deli, it is night outside and past-Sara is just finishing her dinner scrolling threw something on her tablet.  She notices something intriguing.]

Sara:  It was a job offer, a headhunter at another firm looking for someone.  They specialized in design and were looking for someone with my talents.  Eighty grand to start plus a signing bonus.  Three years, three years and I could afford my own studio.  Well, with a bank’s help.

Anton:  Could you have tolerated that?  It’s almost the same captivity as what you had before.

Sara:  They said I would have some say in the clients I handled, it’s better than being forced into all of them.

[Past-Sara gets up and begins to leave, dumping the refuse of her meal into the trash and walking out, waving goodbye to the old man behind the counter.]

Sara:  Mitch, he was nice, his wife died a few years ago.

Anton (getting up and following past-Sara out the door):  I thought that might have been the case…

[A transition as the bell of the door chimes.  It is a Parisian looking café, Anton now with a different hair color, black glasses and clothes most wealthy men of his age would envy. Though many in the room hold cigarettes in one hand he does not, instead it is a book of poetry written by Pablo Neruda.  He sees a beautiful woman across from him, she is wearing a bright dress, her hair flowing down to her shoulders.]

Anton (writing on a piece of paper):  Target arrives at café  at 9:15am, third straight day.

[She sees him watching her, he has not been as careful as usual, the poetry pulled him into the past.  She comes over to him.]

Woman:  You sit here almost every day alone, why is that?

Anton (smiling and speaking in a rather American accent, knowing he has likely won this dance with death):  I come here to read, to write, to relax.  It is my sanctuary.

Woman:  Sounds wonderful.

Anton (getting up to leave):  It truly is.  I trust I will see you again?

Woman:  Perhaps (she hands him a piece of paper with her phone number written on it) perhaps sooner.

Anton (a devilish grin on his face):  How does 7:30 sounds?

Woman:  Perfect.

[Anton leaves and the woman vacates the table but a scrap of paper is left laying there a message from Anton to the woman which she never recieves.  If suddenly / you forget me / do not look for me, / for I shall already have forgotten you.]

[Fade to black.]

[Sara and Anton are walking behind past-Sara, she nears a corner stopping at a cross walk.  A man is next to her wearing a long black coat a cellphone to his ear.]

Man:  Tell him to call it off, it’s a firesale and we both know that.  Yes.  No.  No, I’m not going to sell any of it for that price.

Anton (looking over at Sara):  Are…are you sure?

Sara:  Yes.

Anton:  You do realize you can’t come back.

Sara:  I know, and I’m sorry.

[She leans in to kiss him but Anton pulls back, a pained look on his face.  The light changes, past-Sara simply continues down the street ignoring the man.  Anton begins to walk, Sara follows.  Soon the man turns, headed off in a different direction]

Anton:  It’s not that I don’t…

Sara:  I know.

[The sounds of a couple fighting ring through the nearly empty street, the screaming only gets louder as the trio approaches.  Soon three shots ring out.  Past-Sara stops walking and looks down, a cherry blossom lies nearly crushed by her foot on the pavement.  She falls to the ground feeling death creep slowly over her.  She cries for help, slowly clawing her way towards the refuge of a nearby alley, towards the safety of not being in the street.]

Anton (transfixed by the scene):  I…[he steps forward, wanting to comfort past-Sara, pulls her close to him, feeling the warm blood seep into his clothing.]

[Fade back to the park, it is night and Anton is standing alone on a small footbridge, a revolver in his left hand, his right is writing in a notebook carefully balanced on the railing.]

Anton (narration):  My largest regret was putting this vengeance in front of you.  He offered freedom through you and I took it, but it wasn’t worth the cost.  Over fifteen years I sold my soul to Satan himself just so I could give them what they call freedom and in the end all I did was make myself a slave.  Tiffany, I’m sorry I did it but I also know that will never be enough.  I did love you.  I did.

[Anton lets go of the notebook, it splashes into the water below, and he raises the pistol to his temple.]

[Fade back to the city.  Past-Sara is in Anton’s arms as he cries knowing this is the price he has been forced to pay.  He looks down at her face but only sees his own hands.  He is back in the meadow, snow all around him.]

Anton (narration):  There was only ever two regrets in my life, one was never saying a proper goodbye to my father.  The other was not kissing her.

[Fade back to the park; Young Anton is with his father.]

Father:  One more time Anton, okay?  Just one more time.

[Young Anton repeats the words of the poem, it is heard softly behind Anton’s narration.]

Anton:  She hasn’t left me, all the time I see new people, but always there is a single cherry blossom to remind me of the truth.

[Credits roll] 


snow white/white snow by William Sowards is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial-NoDerivs 3.0 Unported License

Snow white/white snoW: Part Two

Here is part two of the screenplay, to read part one go to:  http://www.pspizza.net/2010/11/snow-whitewhite-snow.html

[First person view of the inside of a cup of tea, the tea slowly changes into ice then returns to tea.  The view pans upward revealing Sara, as it does so we see the tea return to a frosty state.]

Anton [Narrating]:  I was nervous around her, I didn’t know why.  There was just…something about her…some kind of…aura.

[Camera shifts back to position one as Anton sits next to Sara looking vaguely uncomfortable and awkward.]

Sara:  What are you thinking?

Anton (taking a sip of his tea, obviously in a non-frozen state):  Hmm?

Sara:  You were just standing there, staring.

[Anton is silent for a moment, just thinking.  Sara looks at the snow, feeling as though she has asked the wrong question though perhaps at the right moment.]

Anton:  It’s just been a while since…since I’ve been with someone this long.

[He is silent for a moment, trying to decide whether he wants to ask his next question, mulling on it as a cow does with cud.]

Sara:  Is that bad?

Anton:  You being here, not moving on?  No, not entirely.  It’s not like I have some kind of schedule to keep.  Just different.

Sara:  But…I’ve only been here…maybe three days?

Anton:  Weeks.

Sara:  Three weeks!

Anton (he sits down next to her, the cup of tea is gone):  Time doesn’t really…well, it doesn’t exist here.  But there, in the world, it still slips on by…

[Anton drifts into silence, thinking about his past about his life before this moment (both on Earth and in this place.]

Anton:  Do you remember all of it?

Sara:  I remember some things clearer than before.  Like a trip to Disney Land with my parents when I was 5, horseback riding through my youth…every ride…It’s like…like I can see, sometimes almost live, my life but…but I can’t touch it.  I try to reach out to someone or something as I have this vivid dream and it just ends.  Is it the same way for you?

Anton (stands up and walks a few paces away from Sara, a grimace on his face):  That’s good, it’s good you remember the good times.  It wasn’t always that way for me…Do you remember how it ended?

Sara:  I always just, I guess wake up, here.

Anton (he turns back to face her, knowing that asking while looking away would just be somehow wrong):  No, I mean your life.  How you died.

Sara:  I…uh…

[Anton rises from the log a pained look on his face; he knows what is to come.  He’s seen it too many times to count and just this once he doesn’t want her to leave.]

Anton:  Come.

[Fade to black.]

[We reopen on a cherry blossom in the sun, and slowly zoom out allowing the entire scene to come into focus.  We are in a garden, water features abound yet the area remains still and silent, quiet and reserved, like it is waiting for something important to happen.]

Anton (Narrating):  This is where I lived and died.  I played there, by the pond, with my brother and every evening under the cherry tree Father would have me practice verse.  He saw my talent, maybe too well.

Child Anton (Narrating):  May you live forever! / Cherish your life, / Only poets in bone / Are as in a lie.

Anton’s Father:  Good, good.  Again, this time with more emotion.  I want to feel your words!

[Slowly fade to black with “this time….”]

[We see an apartment, everything in pristine order.  The walls have photos of Sara and her friends:  in Paris, Rome, London, Chicago, a beach somewhere.  Each tells us a bit more about her, yet we only see them for an instant.  The camera pans to the door opening]

Anton:  Your apartment madam.  [He makes a bit of a flourish with his hands and allows Sara to enter before him.]

Sara (looking around):  Is this…real?

Anton:  In a way. [Anton steps inside as Sara walks toward the kitchen and its large windows]

Anton:  It’s like the field but created from your memories.  I wouldn’t suggest touching anything, it might break down the…I guess illusion.

Sara [reaching out a hand to touch a slightly wilted flower stops]:  Oh.

Anton:  What can you member of your last day?

[A time-lapse of the events Sara describe takes place around the two individuals]

Sara:  I woke up and turned on the TV, there was some story about a bank robbery or something…then I changed to go work out.  I was back maybe…an hour later?  I ate breakfast, showered, and got ready for work…I remember I had to change my blouse after I spilt some coffee on it.  Then I left.

[Fade to a teenage Anton in a hospital room, other than the beep of a heart monitor there is little to no sound.  Behind Anton is an x-ray showing lungs with significant damage from at least three gunshot wounds.]

Teen Anton (the camera shows Anton simply squeezing an old hand):  Since then 'tis centuries, / and yet each / Feels shorter than the day / I first surmised the horses' heads / Were toward eternity.

[A tear falls slowly down Anton’s cheek, he wipes it away with a hand and rises towards the door.]

Teen Anton:  [In Russian]  I am sorry father, it is not your time.  I am sorry.

[Fade to black.]

[We reopen with Sara and Anton standing in the corner of an office, a cube land, the office runs time-lapsed around them as they walk through it.]

Anton:  Not quite what I pictured for you.

Sara:  What did you expect?

Anton (he looks, a grimace on his face, at an orange haired troll on one worker’s desk):  Something a little less corporate drone.  I don’t know, maybe a painter or at the worst an architect.

Sara:  At worst?

Anton:  You don’t exactly ooze the vibe of a zombie.

Sara (they reach her desk and she smiles at the notebooks with half completed drawings littering the desk):  Graphic design.

Anton:  I stand corrected.  You Ms. Lawson are full of surprises.

Sara (looking up at him slightly seductively):  You have absolutely no idea.

[Fade to a shot of a bathroom mirror and the sound of a man vomiting.  Anton appears in the mirror looking pale, he speaks entirely in Russian (subtitled)]

Anton:  You can do this!  It is only five minutes and you are done, you are out.  [Anton looks down and the sound of the pistol’s slide can be heard putting a round in the chamber]  For Father, you can do this.

[He walks out of the bathroom, the camera remains on the mirror.  Muffled speaking can be heard followed by three gunshots.  Anton re-enters the bathroom, his face and chest are spackled with blood that is not his own.  Leans against the far wall of the bathroom then slides down, crying.]

[Fade to black.]

snow white/white snow by William Sowards is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial-NoDerivs 3.0 Unported License

Snow white/white snoW

This is a project that started in about January and I've been slowly working on since then.  It still needs a bit of polishing.  I'll be posting it over the next three days and a PDF on the Wednesday.  It is under a Creative Commons Non-Commercial No-Derivatives 3.0 License so feel free to share it, shoot it, send it to Swedish pirates living on oil rigs, just don't change it or sell it.

Snow white/white snoW

Written by Will Sowards

[We open on a snowfield surrounded by trees, a view from the ground looking upward towards the darkened sky.  Moonlight illuminates the field.]

Anton [Narration, an American accent]:  You never appreciate life till you lose it, till it is taken away from you.  Five years ago I died and now I’m here.  It isn’t life, it isn’t death.  It just is.

[Enter Anton stage right he is wearing street clothes nothing special.  Jeans and a t-shirt, running shoes.  He walks a few feet forward and bends over. Cam switches to a first person of picking up a stick and examining it.]

Anton:  A new stick, a new life.  Perhaps a new friend, I never know what may come.  All I know is that a new stick means a change.

[The camera shifts back to position 1]

Sara [Narration]:  I always wondered what it would be like.  How it would feel when I went…

Sara:  Hello?

[She enters stage left in a bright colored dress, barefoot.  She is tall, but shorter than Anton, blonde hair.]

[Camera shifts back to Anton’s first person view looking at Sara as she walks toward him.  She stops a few feet away, a comfortable distance.  Move back to pos. 1]

Sara:  Where am I?  What…

Anton:  Welcome to the Grey.  Here we sit between life and death, between existence and the great beyond…Yes, that definitely needs some more work…

Sara:  You mean I’m…

Anton:  Dead, yes.

[Jump cut to a dark alley, silhouette of a body in the middle of the alley.]

Sara:  But…

Anton:  I’ll give you a moment.

[Anton walks off screen leaving Sara alone.  Fade to black.]

[Return to CP1.  Anton enters stage right, Sara is sitting on a log near the middle of the field.]

Anton:  That can’t mean anything good.

Sara (looking up at him):  What?

Anton:  The log.  Where did it come from?

Sara:  It was over there [points to an area of the woods].  I…willed…it over here.

Anton:  Figuring out our little world?

Sara:  Our?

Anton:  Sorry, so rude of me.  I’m Anton.

Sara:  Sara. [puts out her hand to shake and Anton subtly declines]  Why are you here Anton?

Anton:  Like you, I’m dead.  Just a little less dead, it’s complicated.

Sara:  Okay…Why am I here?

Anton (sips from a cup of tea not previously in his hand):  You have one purpose here, to accept your death.  Not realize that you are dead, but to accept it.

Sara:  And how do I do that?

Anton (walking away, slowly sipping his tea):  With time Ms. Lawson, with time.

[Fade to black.]

[We open on a dark alley, Anton stage right and Sara left.]

Sara:  This is new.

Anton:  For some of us anyway.  Do you recognize this place?

Sara:  No.

Anton:  And now?

[The view shifts, Anton and Sara keep their same positions in the frame but the background changes to the front of a building.]

Sara:  Just off 73^rd, I walked by here every day.

Anton:  But did you ever really pay attention?

Sara:  Pay attention to what?

Anton:  The people.  All of the people that walked by.  Did you ever stop to think that maybe you left some kind of impression on those who saw you?

[One individual walking by stares down the alley (toward Anton and Sara) he grimaces and moves on, it is barely noticeable yet there.  Fade to black.]


snow white/white snow by William Sowards is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial-NoDerivs 3.0 Unported License.