Tuesday 11 January 2011

MONGOL GALLERY PAGES 27 to 32

INT. ANNA'S FLAT - NIGHT


Anna's flat is small and functional with very little about it that is personal. One of the few personal touches is a photograph of her and Daniel. There is something wild about the scene in the picture as if Daniel and Anna are two wild animals who want to devour the photographer. There is nothing wild about Anna though. She is very much the prim and proper centre-right politician heading into middle age.


Anna is sitting at her table with her laptop open. The laptop pings and we see Anna opening an email and reading the contents.


ANNA

So what KIND of trouble has he got himself into?


No answer is forthcoming of course. Anna goes to the wall and picks up her telephone.


ANNA

Met Anna Kern.


There is a pause while an indistinct voice comes from the other end of the conversation.


ANNA

So, I need to take some time off and get over to England. Nice if I
can make it business but I have to go anyway. So when's the next
window? Fine, I'll stay till then but find me a fact-finding or
something Ja?


After another pause she continues.


ANNA

Dank je wel. Later.


She puts the phone down and returns to Internet banking.


CUT TO:

INT. ALARIC'S SHOP - DAY


ALARIC

There we go Daniel. I've sent it. Nothing more I can do.


Daniel makes a sketch, which we do not see. Alaric looks at it.


ALARIC

Yes Daniel and I find myself aroused despite my obvious
shortcomings. That's part of the trouble.


FADE TO BLACK.

FADE UP TO


INT. THE MONGOL GALLERY - DAY


Alaric has walked in while Peter is rearranging numerous leaflets with miniaturised versions of Daniel's sketches.


ALARIC

I can't help having a sense of foreboding Peter. There's a lot of
magic involved and it's not like we don't understand who de MUSCA is.

PETER (snappishly)

Alaric, you're jealous. I've not sold my soul but it's not often an
opportunity like this comes along. I've got to take it. Daniel's going
to make me rich and famous. Not de Musca, Daniel. What's wrong
with that?

ALARIC

Peter, Daniel's a journalist, or at least was before he lost the power
of speech. Can't you see the agenda?


PETER

I've been thinking about that. Maybe there's nothing supernatural
about it. Maybe he's had a stroke. Weird things happen when you
fuck with the brain.

ALARIC

You don't believe that for a moment, Peter do you?

PETER (sighing)

No. God help me.

ALARIC

So you know what to do then.

PETER

I can't. Maybe if I kept out the pornographic ones and anything
controversial. Maybe he won't get what he wants.

ALARIC

You're trying to second guess the devil, Peter. That never ends well.


FADE TO BLACK

FADE UP TO


INT. THE MONGOL GALLERY - NIGHT

Peter is alone in the gallery. There are dark circles under his eyes. The door opens and Nick de Musca walks in.


de MUSCA

Good evening Mr Elsingham. How does it feel to have your dreams
at your fingertips?

PETER

What do you want?



de MUSCA

That really is rather rude Peter. Would you like me to wash your
mouth out with soap?

PETER

I apologise. What can I do for you?

de MUSCA

There, that's better. The poof's right you know. This is not a free
gift. There are consequences. You know that don't you? Of course
you do. And yet you carry on. I haven't even had to offer you
anything. You really should think of something to ask for. Bad for
business otherwise.


Nick de Musca lifts his hand and gestures toward a portrait of Anna Kern in a rather conservative looking suit. As he gestures, it is as if he rips away Anna's clothing. The camera concentrates on the action in the painting. Disembodied hands, that look much like de Musca's hands reach out to rip the clothes from Anna.

FX - a bell rings

A TRAMP has just entered the gallery. He walks straight toward the painting de Musca has just altered and takes down his trousers.

de MUSCA

Seems you're not the only one around her with no free will Peter.

PETER

I'm not my grandfather.

de MUSCA

Never said you were.

The Tramp takes his cock in hand and begins to masturbate.


TRAMP

Bitch bitch bitch bitch baaaahhhhh

de MUSCA

He's there before the goal. He dribbles, he shoots.
PETER

Dammit. Get out. Get out


Peter chases the tramp out into the street with his trousers around his ankles. It could be a funny scene but nobody's laughing apart from de Musca.

No comments:

Post a Comment