They steal your clothes, shout
“shotty” before you do, and buy the same pair of gold hoop earrings even though
they know you already have them. What many people, like myself, ask from time
to time is what are sisters good for?
Last night, my older (yet shorter… I like to rub it in) sister came home from
Notre Dame for her month long winter break. After eating takeout Chinese food,
I officially discovered the answer to this question. For all of you out there
reading this with sisters, take careful notes.
“Want to act them out?” she asked. I
hadn’t thought about that before. Throughout my entire search for the “ultimate
movie” documented here, I had yet to read any of the scenes I’d written aloud,
let alone acted them out. Without hesitating, I printed thirty-five pages of
miscellaneous scripts and we marched down into the basement for my first
official read through.
Considering
that our two “sets” consisted of a pool table and a lumpy brown couch, we
revisited the days when we used to play pretend
games and imagined the rest. I don’t think my sister would argue with the
statement: she will never be the next Kate Winslet or Meryl Streep. With zero
professional training, we both stumbled through the dialogue, considering it a
success when we didn’t have to stop from laughing so hard. Quickly, I
discovered when the script was working and when it was not.
In my big screen adaption of my
novel, Pink House, I played the lead, Jax, while Jen played everyone
else. Since this scene uses frequent flashbacks, we found ourselves jumping
from spot to spot in an effort to portray the difference between the past and
present. While this did increase the confusion, I recognized a fault in the
script: the lack of distinction between flashback and present day.
After we finished our acting debut,
I asked my sister what she thought of the script so far. While she appreciated
the flow of the dialogue, there were a few issues she had with the beginning
that we only found by performing. In the scene, I tried to show the audience that
Jax resents his pink house because he thinks it’s the reason that his dad
abandoned him. The phrase show don’t tell
became a mantra for me as I was writing this scene. However, we came to the
conclusion that there can be exceptions to this rule, and that my adaption of Pink
House is one of them.
Similarly, Jax relationship to the
neighborhood boys that ask him to play baseball was really unclear to my
sister. Did they like him? Did they know him? Had they ever talked before? Was
this the first time they were meeting? These were all questions my sister had,
that I realized needed an answer in order for the scene to be acted out in the
way that I imagined it. As Jen asked these questions, I thought about how their
answers would affect the dialogue and the tone of voice.
Listing the issues of the script, I
knew that I needed to take another stab at the first scene of my adaption. In my
attempt at editing this script, I said a new mantra to myself: clue in my reader. Sisters are good for
teaching you very important lessons, such as, the worst kind of actress is a
confused actress.
PINK HOUSE
SCRIPT – TAKE TWO
EXT. CHESTNUT STREET, PARMA, OHIO, JULY 1963 – DAY
HELICOPTER SHOT: ZOOM IN
slowly on a suburban street. From afar, all the houses look the same; the lawns
are brown and square, and the roofs of the houses are all identical. But as we
get closer, one Pepto-Bismol pink house sticks out from all the others. This is
JAX’s house.
JAX (V.O.)
I’ve
always wanted a house on the cul-de-sac. One with green shutters and a blue
door and a dog named Elvis Presley. Because no one likes a pink house; everyone
always wants to leave it.
ZOOM IN on the front
window, where we see a young boy sitting at a kitchen table. This is JAX.
INT. HOUSE – DAY
JAX sits at the kitchen
table. He is small, squirrely, with the hood of his orange sweatshirt up. The
wind WHISTLES outside and he flicks a flashlight on and off. A cheap chandelier
above him flickers, and he flicks the flashlight again. Text at the bottom of
the screen reads:
PARMA OHIO, JULY 1963
HIS MOTHER comes down a
flight of stairs and enters the kitchen. Her hair looks like plastic on top of
her head, solid from so much hairspray. She has fake nails and we see a bit of
red lipstick on her front tooth.
JAX
I
hate when the power goes out. The dark makes me claustrophobic.
His mother rolls her eyes,
and Jax switches the flashlight on again.
MOTHER
That’s
not possible, Jax. You’re either claustrophobic, or you’re not.
JAX
Maybe
I am then.
MOTHER
You
are not. Now go outside and play; you’re giving me a migraine.
Jax reluctantly gets up
from the table and leaves, slamming the screen door on his way out.
EXT. FRONT PORCH – DAY
Jax puts his head in his
hands and slumps, bored. ZOOM OUT: We see the pink house behind him. Jax hits
the flashlight against the front step.
In this quaint, Midwestern
neighborhood, life seems pretty quiet. Jax squints and THE MAILMAN suddenly
appears in the distance, coming closer.
MAILMAN
Aren’t you a little hot there, son?
Jax looks down at his sweatshirt,
pulling at the strings.
JAX
(trailing off)
Grammy always said... every season’s flu season.
Jax blinks, and the
mailman is gone, never really there in the first place. He flicks the
flashlight on again and shines it on the front step. Jax SIGHS.
Behind him, A GROUP OF
BOYS approach the house, walking straight towards Jax. He has never seen them
before, but they’re all staring at him.
Then, ONE BOY runs up to
his mailbox and leans on it. He has a crooked smile and wears a plain white
t-shirt and jean shorts. This is BONER.
BONER
Hey kid, come play baseball. We need one more.
JAX
(stuttering)
I don’t have a glove.
Boner LAUGHS, and Jax
can’t believe how cool Boner is.
BONER
Then what’s that?
He points to a glove
sitting next to Jax; Jax doesn’t know how it got there. He picks it up and
stares at it.
BONER
You gonna put it on or make out with it?
Jax looks over his
shoulder and sees his mother, lowering the ironing board from the wall in the
kitchen. Jax’s mind seems to wander off...
CUT TO:
INT. HOUSE – NIGHT
The iron SIZZLES on the
ironing board and a cloud of steam rises. Text at the bottom of the screen
reads:
OCTOBER 1961
JAX P.O.V.: Jax sits at
the kitchen table with sopping wet hair and clothes, about a year younger,
staring at his plate. He looks at the black grilled cheese with no intention of
eating it.
His mother HUMS with her
back to Jax. She turns around with another, just as black, grilled cheese in
her hand, and PLOPS it onto Jax’s plate. Jax SNIFFLES.
MOTHER
Quit crying, Jax. They’re your favorite.
His mother sits down in
the chair next to him and waits for Jax to take a bite; he doesn’t. Grammy,
sitting at the other end of the table, tries to smile, but falters. Jax turns
to the fourth, empty chair at the table.
MOTHER
C’mon, eat. Eat the damn sandwich.
Mother refuses to look at
the empty chair. She DRUMS her fake fingernails on the table, and Jax squirms.
The TAPPING gets louder and louder and louder...
CUT TO:
EXT. FRONT PORCH – DAY
TAPPING on the glass, his
mother is now looking at him through the front window, back in present day. Her
eyebrows arch, and she shoos him away. Jax stands up and walks down the steps.
BONER
You might need your mitt.
JAX
(muttering)
Right, right.
Jax goes back for his
leather glove and waves to the boys waiting in the cul-de-sac down the street.
They see him, but don’t wave back.
Jax walks away from the
house...
CUT TO:
INT. FRONT WINDOW – NIGHT
Jax morphs into A MAN in a
black trench coat briskly walking away from the house to a taxi waiting on the
street. This is Jax’s father. The sky is gray and It’s RAINING, no longer
present day.
The man steps into the taxi
and it pulls away. Jax runs from the house after his father, SLAMMING the
screen door. At the end of the driveway, he turns to stare at the pink house.
He’s soaked, wearing the same clothes from the other flashback. Now we know why
he was wet.
His mother stands on the
front porch under an umbrella.
MOTHER
What are you doing?
Jax doesn’t look at his
mother, but at the whole front of the house.
MOTHER
(yelling)
Get inside, Jax!
Jax doesn’t budge, and his
mother throws the umbrella, then STOMPS back inside. Jax is silent; all we can
hear is the rain FALLING around him...
CUT TO:
EXT. FRONT LAWN – DAY
Jax in the same position,
the rain stops, the sky clears, and we are back in present day, still staring
at the pink house.
BONER
You coming?
Boner elbows Jax, then
heads for the cul-de-sac. After one last look, Jax turns his back on the house.
JAX
Yeah, I’m coming.
He breaks into a run,
without looking back.
FADE TO BLACK.
MOVIES WATCHED: 10
SCREENPLAY PAGES WRITTEN: 39
NOVEL PAGES WRITTEN: 65
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