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- Название: Memoirs (200801027).fdr
- Автор: Underground
October 27 2008
EXT. SMITH STREET STATION -- BROOKLYN -- NIGHT
It's very late. It's quiet. Just the sounds of The City.
A WOMAN in her late thirties, wearing a hospital ID on a
lanyard around her neck, waits alone at one end of the station
platform. We meet her silhouetted against the Lower Manhattan
skyline where we find The Twin Towers of the World Trade Center
still standing in the distance.
TWO TEENAGE BOYS with hand drawn gang tats wait at the other
end of the platform. They speak loud, SLURRED SPANISH to each
other and pass a menthol cigarette between them. They appear
to notice the Woman waiting alone and begin towards her.
The Woman stares straight ahead. As the boys approach, she
tenses. At the last second the boys make a hard left turn and
disappear down the stairwell back to the street without so
much as glancing at her. It's quiet again.
The Woman exhales, allows a little smile at her own paranoia.
Her green eyes are illuminated by the halogen bulb of a TRAIN
rounding the final bend into the station.
Her focus is on this train. It's getting closer, louder.
And so she doesn't see, doesn't hear the Boys coming back up
the stairwell behind her.
Not until they have her boxed in and the one who can hardly
grow a mustache is showing her his concealed handgun.
The Woman knows what this is. Stays calm.
The train roars into station as the Woman quickly hands over
her purse, her watch, she removes her engagement ring and her
wedding band. She gives over the engagement ring. Hesitates.
Please... it's not worth much... to
The Boys consider the thin gold band. One of them goes to
take it from her outstretched palm but he drops it. The ring
CLANGS to the ground and rolls to a stop a few feet away. The
other boy takes a step to pick it up but freezes when he
hears MEN'S VOICES echoing up the stairwell.
Now they're boxed in. And starting to panic.
The Train Doors slide open.
The Boys see their way out and step into the last empty rail
car. Leaving the Woman alone on the platform.
The Woman stands there staring blankly at her assailants'
faces -- THE TRAIN DOORS BEGIN TO CLOSE -- when a hand with
tattooed knuckles reaches out and stops them...
Just a forearm and gun extend out of that last subway car...
There's a muzzle flash... a distant POP... a cloud of
smoke... a mist of blood... and the Woman's body collapses on
EXT. SMITH STREET STATION -- LATER THAT NIGHT
A WORKING CRIME SCENE, lots of uniforms and light, a white
sheet draped over her body where it fell beside the tracks.
BLUE AND RED LIGHT dances against the stairwell wall where we
find a man taking the stairs two at a time. The man is in his
late thirties, plain clothes, piercing eyes, handsome, he is
SERGEANT JAMES CRAIG. When he reaches the platform. He stops.
Craig kneels before the white sheet. Peels it back. We stay
on him. We don't see what he sees. We just see how he sees
it. Then he notices...
THE WEDDING BAND. It's been tagged and numbered as evidence.
Craig picks it right out of the chalk outline.
Craig walking back now. He reaches the stairwell and suddenly
falls to one knee, bracing himself against the railing, he
clenches the ring in a white-knuckled fist. The closest
UNIFORM puts a hand on his shoulder. A moment. Composure. A
deep breath. Then as quickly as he went down. He's back up.
Craig looks back now, sees all the cops looking at him, he
nods to no one in particular then begins down the stairwell.
As Craig heads down, we DRIFT UP...above the station, above
those dots of light, above the yawning mass of the borough,
until we find ourselves once again with a clear view of the
southern tip of Manhattan where those TWIN TOWERS STAND TALL.
A FRAMED PHOTOGRAPH: of the Lower Manhattan skyline as it was
with the World Trade Center still standing, preserved forever
in two-dimensions behind glass. This photo hangs on a wall
beside a Bob Dylan poster in a...
INT. TENEMENT BUILDING -- BEDROOM -- MORNING
SUBTITLE: "East Village, Three Years Later"
A cell phone vibrates on a night stand. We drift across the
room until we find... TYLER ROTH, early twenties, handsome,
lying beside a forgettable BLONDE, their intertwined limbs
hint to the passions of the prior evening.
Tyler rolls over and answers the phone.
Of course. I’m on my way. I know...
I know...I know...I know...I
know...I know...............I know.
Tyler climbs out of bed, fishes a ragged packet of unfiltered
cigarettes out of a pair of jeans. He staggers to a window.
Gandhi once said that whatever you
do in life will be insignificant
but it is very important that you
Tyler sits in the window smoking. We observe a tattoo that
simply says "Michael" over his heart. His dark eyes fall on
that framed photograph of the World Trade Center.
...I tend to agree with the first
EXT. CEMETERY -- MORNING
In Brooklyn. A cluster of MOURNERS stand before a tombstone
in the distance. A cab pulls to a stop. Tyler, in a rumpled
suit with no tie, gets out of the cab. Lights a cigarette and
pays the driver. He begins towards the mourners.
Tyler tosses his cigarette as he approaches his mother...
DIANE HOFFMAN, elegant beauty, past burdens etched in the
lines on her face. She smiles like someone who's been crying
but doesn't want anyone to know she's been crying.
How are you mom?
I'm fine... you look good...
Tyler just smiles. Moves to greet his stepfather...
LES HOFFMAN, ponytail streaked in gray, tweed jacket and tie.
They exchange a firm handshake. Tyler's father...
CHARLES ROTH, late fifties, stoic, steel eyes, chiseled good
looks. He hardly even looks at Tyler.
You couldn't wear a tie?
Good to see you dad.
Tyler approaches his baby sister, CAROLINE ROTH, a diminutive
eleven-year-old in spectacles. Tyler kneels beside her,
Thanks for the wake up call...
Caroline makes a face. Turns her nose away from him.
You smell like Listerine and beer.
Tyler kisses her cheek. Stands beside her.
POV: The Tombstone. The five family members stand side-byside. They look like strangers on the subway.
INT. ATHLETIC CLUB -- LATER
A private dining room. The family sits together at breakfast.
An awkward silent ambiance. Tyler rolls a Bic lighter over
his knuckles. Caroline draws on her napkin. Charles reads the
Wall Street Journal. Les selects his tea bag.
...This is nice... I think it's
nice that we still do this...
Michael would like that we do this.
Tyler takes out a cigarette. Lights it. Without saying a word
his mother takes it and snubs it out in an empty water glass.
Did you tell Tyler what your art
teacher said about your portrait?
Caroline shakes her head. Keeps drawing.
...She was very impressed. She said
it showed...“shades of a young
Young Rembrandt... good... 'cause
Rembrandt really fell off late in
his career. He's the Michael
Jackson of European art history.
(hints of a smile)
Do you even know who Rembrandt is?
He invented toothpaste right?
Caroline smiles, shakes her head, goes back to her drawing.
You didn't tell him the best part.
...she wants me to enter it in the
In the Upper School Art Show.
Care's the only sixth grader with
an entry this year... youngest in
Spence history. Eleven-years-old
and already tearing down walls.
(blushes a little)
If I place I qualify for this
summer program that will-CHARLES
Caroline could you please pass the
Caroline falls silent. Enthusiasm gone. She slides the butter
to her father. Goes back to her drawing. Charles slathers a
croissant. Notices three incredulous stares.
Caroline was speaking.
And I wasn't changing the
subject... I needed butter.
In dad's defense... The butter here
is really good. I can see why
someone wouldn't want to wait eight
seconds to let their daughter
finish a sentence... I get it.
Thank you for that, Tyler.
Charles eats his croissant. That heavy silence again. Until.
...What was the subject?
The subject that you weren’t trying
to change... What was it?
Charles folds his paper, sets it down, glaring now, defiant.
I'm sorry, Les. I'm confused.
Remind me again. Why are you here?
Why are you mourning this morning?
You didn't know Michael... I doubt
he even would've liked you.
I'm here to support my wife and my
stepdaughter... someone needs to.
Oh I see... you're supporting them
now. Great. So I can stop paying
her tuition? I can discontinue her
trust? You're gonna handle it
all... Lester the investor.
Silence. Charles and Les hold a cold stare.
...yeah, I think Michael definitely
would like that we do this.
Tyler pushes himself away from the table.
Where are you going?
I don't know why you insist on
The boy is fine. Relax.
As if you'd have any idea.
My son's welfare really doesn't
concern you. When the conversation
turns to socialism or first-year
Kant feel free to hop in.
As the adults break into a further chorus of petty bickering.
Tyler kisses Caroline's forehead.
See you after school?
She nods. He exits.
INT. WALL STREET COFFEE SHOP -- MORNING
Filled with hustling morning COMMUTERS grabbing coffee and
bagels to go. Tyler in jeans and a white tee shirt looks
completely out of place amongst all the suits and commerce.
He sits in the last of a row of booths facing the street. His
tattered JOURNAL lies open in front of him, a BINDER CLIP
holds his page as he works quietly crafting an entry.
INT. ALPHABET CITY -- SIDE STREET -- LATER
Tyler walks to class with his roommate, AIDAN. Tyler smokes.
Aidan doesn't. Aidan remembers something, smirks.
I sold your girlfriend a
You sold my who? ...What?
That voluptuous, delightfully
oblivious little blondie you left
in your bed this morning... I sold
her a toothbrush. Got three bucks.
Are in order, yes. Because that
sale inspired our newest business
venture: "The SLUT"
Tyler stares blankly.
The 'Single Lady's Universal Tote'
Tyler stares blankly.
It's the one-night-stand travel
pack for women. We throw in some
make-up, toiletries, cell phone
charger, cab numbers. Retail it at
S19.95, maybe do an informercial.
And you think women would buy this?
Hey one-night-stands happen... It's
a part of life... like stubbing
your toe. Sometimes you misjudge a
corner and bend back your pinky
toe, other times you wake up in a
freshman dorm wearing a field
hockey tee shirt wondering why your
balls smell like cinnamon...
Tyler gives him a peculiar look.
And that's completely hypothetical.
(quickly moving on)
Don't underestimate the novelty
gift market. Think about it...
instead of giving that token slutty
friend a ten-inch black dildo for
her birthday, you hook her up with
"The SLUT." Everyone has a laugh
and the implication that she'll
probably use it someday remains.
What do you say? Are you in?
You need help.
Tyler finishes his cigarette.
OK... fine... be cynical... just
remember at some point in history
two people had a conversation just
like this about the light bulb. One
of them went on to fame and fortune
and the other one probably went to
work at Denny's or something.
I'm pretty sure they didn't have
Denny's in the 19th century.
EXT. PARK SLOPE -- MORNING
A TINTED MERCEDES S-CLASS stops in-front of a funky corner
brownstone where Caroline waits in a plaid jumper on the
front steps. THE DRIVER opens the back door of the car.
INT. MERCEDES S-CLASS (DRIVING) -- LATER
Caroline in the cavernous backseat alone. Her pink knapsack
her only company.
THE MERCEDES stops at a crosswalk for a GROUP OF CHILDREN in
jeans and tee shirts on their way into a local PS cross.
Caroline sees them through the tinted glass. They couldn't
see her even if they wanted to.
EXT. THE SPENCE SCHOOL -- LATER
A private all-girls prep school on the Upper East Side.
A LINE OF LUXURY CARS drop off GIRLS. Parents and loved ones
offer daily good-byes and good lucks. We find...
THE MERCEDES rolling to a stop. The Driver gets out and opens
the door for Caroline. She steps out with her pink knapsack.
INT. THE SPENCE SCHOOL -- CLASSROOM -- LATER
Caroline sits alone in the back of the room working on a
portrait. All around her the steady buzz of conversation and
laughter. THE PORTRAIT is of Charles as he was at the
breakfast table reading The Wall Street Journal. The detail
is jarring. We can see his indifference right there on her
page in shaded pencil strokes.
It's an unfortunate reality but a
reality none the less...
INT. LECTURE HALL -- DAY
TYLER sits in the back of the room. Aidan asleep beside him.
Their PROFESSOR addresses the few students paying attention.
...in the wake of terrorist attacks
these insurance company actuaries
are provided a unique opportunity
to raise premiums and profits to
protect against events that will
likely never occur again...
The classroom door opens with a creak. Tyler turns to see
ALLY CRAIG, 19, a cute brunette, tip toe toward an open seat.
She tries to squeeze in, trips over a book bag, nearly falls
on her face. The Professor shoots her a look. She blushes.
Mouthes "sorry." Takes her seat. Opens her notebook.
Tyler smiles to himself.
EXT. CENTRAL PARK -- AFTERNOON
At the Alice in Wonderland statue where KIDS climb all over
the faded bronze mushroom caps and characters. Tyler and
Caroline sit on a park bench. Tyler lights a cigarette.
You promised you’d quit...
You’re gonna get emphysema and then
you’re gonna have to drag an oxygen
tank with you everywhere...
You think that would be the worst
part about having emphysema?
Everywhere you go, Tyler. Even the
Tyler takes a final drag. Tosses it on the ground.
Why do you think Dad doesn't wanna
see me anymore?
Dad loves you.
So? You can love someone and not
like spending time with them...
Mom loves Aunt Sara. But at
Christmas, last year, she wouldn't
let Les leave them in a room
together 'cause she said there
would be a "yule tide homicide."
That's 'cause Aunt Sara drinks...
You don't drink, right?
Caroline shakes her head.
So why would anyone wanna avoid
Caroline shrugs, unconvinced. A silent moment passes.
Michael used to drink.
Yeah. He did. But Michael was 23.
All 23-year-olds drink 'cause it's
new and exciting. Aunt Sara drinks
'cause she wishes she was 23.
A shared smile.
You're almost 23...
Tyler's smile fades.
Do you still think about him?
INT. TYLER'S APARTMENT -- LIVING ROOM -- DAY
Tyler on his ratty couch, jeans, no shirt, aviator headphones
plugged into a record player, an old seven-inch spinning.
Aidan sits on the counter drinking beer, eating a Lean
Cuisine. Aidan tosses an empty beer can to get his attention.
What about Atlantic City for your
birthday this year?. Get a suite.
Couple of ladies. You could call
Toothbrush Girl, what do you think?
I'd honestly prefer to be sodomized
with a toothbrush. Honestly.
Hey, it's your day.
Tyler picks up his cigarettes.
So what do you wanna do tonight?
I'm doing it...
Tyler lights a cigarette. Stretches out on the couch.
I ran into Megan yesterday. She's
bartending at The Tunnel tonight.
She wants us to stop by.
Some other time.
Aidan, visibly frustrated with Tyler's reluctance, throws his
full beer at him. It splashes all over.
What the fuck?
What the fuck you. You've been a
fuckin' ghost the past couple
weeks. You never wanna go out.
We just went out last night.
That breaks my heart. To hear you
say that out loud. You used to be
good for five nights-a-week. Now
I'm lucky if I get one. I'm feeling
unappreciated here. I can't deal
with this brooding introvert shit
anymore man. I’m ready to set up an
A silent moment passes.
You realize interventions typically
discourage binge drinking?
One drink. One drink and we're out.
When's the last time you had one
Aidan raises his beer. Nods to his Lean Cuisine.
What do you call this? Looks like a
casual beer with dinner to me.
That's your fifth beer.
But my only one with dinner.
INT. THE TUNNEL -- LATER THAT NIGHT
A trendy club in the m