“Playing Bass”
Some of you read an earlier version of this already. I’m writing it for somebody that wants to direct (the script is based on his idea). He figures if he could convince backers that he has skillz, he could get some real money together to direct a feature length indie.
I just finished a new draft, and I think it’s a big improvement. The ending has been changed, and I basically folded the original script onto itself. Before we had a whole bunch of people telling stories about the main character before he shows up. Now we have the main character show up early, and intersperse the visual memories with his own artistic interpretation.
I wrote this listening to so much jazz I felt like I was going insane. The notes were bubbling out of my skull, and I couldn’t figure out what was straight from a song I heard, and what my brain was conjuring on the fly.
If you got some jazz handy, throw it in and enjoy this little nugget with my blessing…
"Playing Bass"
By Eric
EXT. CITY – NIGHT
THE MOON
In all of it’s glory. Bearing witness, never one to
judge.
WE HEAR the COOL, TICKLING NOTES of a JAZZ PIANO.
MAN’S VOICE (V.O.)
It’s all jazz.
PANNING DOWN, the dark silhouette of the city–blacker on
black. FURTHER DOWN, a–
EXT. CITY STREET
–random artery close to the heart of the city, pumping
an intense cross-section of urban nightlife.
MAN’S VOICE (V.O.)
Everywhere… The crib, the streets,
the blackness of space…
The BASS PLAYER ENTERS FRAME carrying what looks like a
body bag. KEITH PELAGLIA is a good-looking, sharply-
dressed musician in his late twenties. There’s an air of
elegance about him as he carries his double bass in its
black carrying bag just above the asphalt.
DIFFERENT MAN (V.O.)
It’s too much. Too much to make sense of
it all.
INT. JAZZ CLUB – BAR AND SHOWSPACE – AFTER HOURS
A time warp, hermetically sealed like a tomb from the
real world. Shoddy, scuffed, but otherwise sturdy and
well-preserved.
THEODORE BRAMS holds court on piano. Young, bright, the
music complimenting his words so perfectly that it seems
to support his argument:
THEODORE
But it’s there to listen to… Music, harmony.
Improvisation.
Theo is talking to STAN MICHAELSON, the drummer, who
leans on the piano, a beer in his hand, a skeptical look
on his face.
EXT. DARK ALLEY
PITCH BLACK for an instant, Keith emerges into light–
growing brighter with every step–color and VOICES slowly
entering the scene.
THEODORE (V.O.)
It ain’t written out, but you hit your
mark, play your set, and it fits…
He passes a long line of people. Among them, a VERY
ATTRACTIVE GIRL in a cocktail dress sees him and smiles
wide:
TARA
Hiya, Keith.
KEITH
Hey, Tara.
The entrance to a way-out-of-the-way nightclub is
emblazoned by a single neon word: JAZZ.
In front, a large, black bouncer–Maurice–slowly filters
the group in.
He unhooks a velvet cordon at Keith’s arrival.
KEITH (CONT’D)
How’r they treating you, Maurice.
MAURICE
Sometimes you the bug, sometimes you the
windshield.
KEITH
I hear that.
Maurice hoists the cello and helps the musician navigate
between the stands with surprisingly little effort.
STAN (V.O.)
So, you’re sayin’ life can be summed up
in a song.
Keith passes a POSTER on the wall, giving the slightest,
fleeting impression that he’s not at all thrilled with
it. We PUSH INTO the
POSTER
“BLUE MONDAY Featuring MIRK CHAMINSKI and the One Notes.”
It’s clear that Mirk is the guy in front.
THEODORE (V.O.)
I’m saying life is music.
INT. JAZZ CLUB – AFTER HOURS
THEODORE
I don’t believe in tragedy, Stan… Just
a song that goes on…
INT. JAZZ CLUB – PERFORMANCE NIGHT
The CROWD SHOUTS A COLLECTIVE GREETING as Keith makes his
way to the bar. He’s well-liked.
It’s the same space we’ve seen before, at peak hours,
moments away from maximum capacity. Stan and Theodore,
DRESSED DIFFERENTLY from the shots we’ve seen before,
nurse their drinks at a table close to the stage.
BARRY CHAN is the quiet one. He sits on the edge of the
stage and polishes his already immaculate saxophone. His
gentle eyes and warm smile imply an air of peace no
matter what’s going on around him.
At the bar, Keith lowers his bass, betraying a hint of
relief. GUS, the owner of this establishment, hands Keith
a tall glass of red wine and gives him a hard look.
GUS
Where’s Mirk?
He takes a few gulps of wine and smiles.
KEITH
Am I mah brotha’s keeper?
GUS
You’re just his best friend. But who
gives a shit, right?
STAN
KEITH! THE FUCK IS MIRK?!
INSERT
A WALL of an apartment is suddenly splashed with whiskey
and shards of glass.
BACK TO SCENE
Keith laughs and mouths a theatrical “I DON’T KNOW!” as
he carefully grabs his bass with his free hand and heads
to the table.
THEODORE
Minutes to curtain, and we’re a circus
without a ringmaster.
Keith places his drink on the table, takes a seat with
the troops, frees his cello from the bag.
KEITH
Anybody seen him?
INSERT
MIRK CHAMINSKI stares directly through us with piercing,
deep-set eyes–beaten, confused.
STAN (V.O.)
You were our last hope on that front,
man.
BACK TO SCENE
KEITH
He’s comin’… Even if he was dead, he’d
show up for Blue Monday as a courtesy.
NANCY
Wouldn’t count on it…
NANCY, a perky cocktail waitress exchanges fresh drinks
for spent vessels.
NANCY (CONT’D)
Heard Mirky havin’ it out with his old
lady not ten minutes ago.
INT. MIRK’S APARTMENT – NOT TEN MINUTES AGO
Mirk’s eyes are beyond rage.
MIRK
You were born, are now, and will always
be…
INT. JAZZ CLUB – PERFORMANCE NIGHT
NANCY
Could hear ‘em from the street.
EXT. CITY STREET – NOT TEN MINUTES AGO
Nancy, on her way to work, is looking up at an open
window. There are some HEATED MURMURS, and suddenly a
BLOOD-FREEZING FEMALE SHRIEK.
Nancy, shaken, hurries off at the start of BREAKING AND
CRASHING SOUNDS.
INT. JAZZ CLUB – PERFORMANCE NIGHT
NANCY
Sounded pretty bad.
She gives a hopeful smile and returns to her rounds. The
band is noticeably deflated.
THEODORE
Trouble in purgatory.
STAN
So, we start without him?
Barry looks up from his instrument and smiles at
something O.C.
KEITH
Wouldn’t be the first time… Let’s
finish up our drinks and make some
magic…
MIRK (O.C.)
YOU FUCKERS READY TO LIGHT IT UP OR
WHAT?!
THUNDEROUS APPLAUSE! Keith is well-liked, but here, Mirk
is God. He raises his arms and soaks it up.
He looks rough, his manner wild. Mirk wears a DARK
OVERCOAT, and fills the room with his presence and
his regal, Shakespearian histrionics.
He beelines to the bar, where Gus has already finished
pouring Mirk’s double whiskey.
Mirk downs it like a breath of air, slams the bar and
points at Gus, who points back, an ongoing tradition:
MIRK AND GUS
AND THREE MORE A’COMIN’!
STAN (V.O.)
Our boy could put it away…
INT. JAZZ CLUB – AFTER HOURS
Stan, Keith, Theo and Barry share a table. They seem to
have the place to themselves.
STAN
She might’ve cleaned up…
INSERT
Many, many CLIPS OF MIRK DRINKING. At the bar, at home,
alone, with people–beers, wine, hard alcohol–and of
course the four double shots every performance night.
STAN (V.O.) (CONT’D)
…but I think it got him drinking
more… Point of pride.
INT. JAZZ CLUB – PERFORMANCE NIGHT
STAN (V.O.)
Stubborn pride.
Mirk jumps onto the stage.
MIRK
LIGHTS!
The stage brightens at his command.
KEITH
(re: Mirk’s overcoat)
Aren’t you hot?
QUICK INTERCUT
Mirk grabs coat, NEIGHBOR PHONES POLICE, Mirk makes his
way towards the club–arms flailing.
MIRK (V.O.)
I’M ON FUCKING FIRE!
Mirk takes his drink straight off Nancy’s tray, makes a
subtle toast to her with a grin, drains it.
Strength returning, he lets out a VIRAL ROAR, grabs the
mike, leaping into freeform poetry mode, completely off
the top of his head:
MIRK
Momma woke me in the middle of the night.
“It’ll never be the same, a world full of
pain, the best part of your life down the
drain…” Never knew I’d live long enough
to suck the burden of a powerful word.
Both the band and audience are a little confused, Mirk is
breaking protocol, starting the show before everybody is
settled. The audience members quickly find their seats.
The band is too cool to rush by his side just yet. They
sip their drinks a little longer… curious.
MIRK (CONT’D)The soul of the band will get down on his
hands knees before his last love–a pair
of ears with no fears–a love of the
sound itself.
Theo’s tickled pink at the prospect of a true creative
jam. He hops on the stage and takes a seat at his piano,
playing immediately.
MIRK (CONT’D)
Welcome to the show! Not just what know,
but those thin fingers you can’t see.
They touch you soft and sometimes squeeze
in a happy universe that’s real, raw, bitter and strange…
Like a hanging note that cries a billion tears.
Keith places his glass down on the table, gets up, grabs
his double bass and takes position at Mirk’s right.
MIRK (CONT’D)
Keith Pelaglia, ladies and gentlemen…!
Playin’ bass!
LOUD ENTHUSIASTIC CHEERING. Keith gives a tight-lipped
smile and makes a polite bow, wary of Mirk’s overly
emphatic introduction. He starts playing, transforming
into something altogether cool and distant.
Mirk slows it down, the band instinctively follows suit,
falling seamlessly into place.
MIRK (CONT’D)
She was… She was… She was everything
I needed, but needed not to be.
She was the warm, creamy center to all
that smiles. She was my exhale, my
lullaby, and every light going on in the
house at the same time.
INTERCUT
VARIOUS SHOTS OF LANA
She’s beautiful. Late 30’s, early 40’s, she glows beyond
her weathered features with grace, glamour and
intoxicating charm.
There’s a lost look on Mirk’s face, like it’s costing him
vital energy just to conjure her smiling visage.
MIRK (CONT’D)
My world opened to her’s…
INT. BEDROOM – MORNING
Mirk and Lana are in bed. He watches her sleep, stroking
her hair with great tenderness.
MIRK (V.O.) (CONT’D)
…the earliest dew-smacked bud in the
silence of the perfect morning.
INT. JAZZ CLUB – AFTER HOURS
Keith is contemplative, his eyes distant.
KEITH
Three years.
THEODORE (O.C.)
That’s like a fifty-year marriage for the
rest of us.
INT. JAZZ CLUB – PERFORMANCE NIGHT
MIRK
I’m not a great man, I’m not a perfect
man. But my love… was.
The drums kick in, Stan has taken his place in the back
and started playing. Mirk turns to face him.
MIRK (CONT’D)
Hi, Stan.
STAN
Heya, chief.
Mirk turns back towards the audience.
MIRK
All great affairs, like newborn babes…
Innocent, pure… Wet?
The audience laughs a little, Mirk smiles, but quickly brings it back.
MIRK (CONT’D)
Born of pain.
INT. JAZZ CLUB – THREE YEARS AGO
Slow night. Gus works the bar. Theo’s on stage, playing a
slow tune seemingly informed by performance night’s jam.
Lana’s radiant at the bar. Mirk gives her his undivided
attention, secret agent smooth.
LANA
I’ve seen you around… I’m surprised.
MIRK
Why’s that?
LANA
You seem to be one of those guys who
could be charming when he wanted to be.
He cocks his head, raises his eyebrows: Yep, that’s me.
LANA (CONT’D)
I like that. Someone who can use it like
a skill.
INT. JAZZ CLUB – PERFORMANCE NIGHT
MIRK
You need two notes to make a song, and we
played each other’s instrument, sweet and
long.
INSERT LOVE MONTAGE
They make love with delicate passion and sensuality. They
have a picnic in the park. He makes her chicken soup when
she’s sick. They sip their way through wine and watch an
old movie together on the couch, casually embracing.
MIRK (V.O.)
Sunny days so easy to love. Perfection in
a memory, that place above where all
happiness lives. We can’t stay forever…
Dinner at a dimly lit Italian restaurant. Soulful eyes
meet across a red-checkered tablecloth.
BACK TO SCENE
Mirk savors the images, reluctantly coming back to his
senses.
MIRK
Now I know… I know… I’m not the
easiest monster to live with.
INT. JAZZ CLUB – AFTER HOURS
THEODORE
Music might sooth the savage beast but…
INT. KITCHEN – EVENING
THEODORE (V.O.)
…never a drunk beast.
Lana and Mirk are having an argument at the table.
LANA
–just one night together without you
going into a–
Mirk defiantly swigs down his drink, grabs hers with the
other hand, downs it, holds both glasses to his ears.
MIRK
<div style="margin-left: 80px;”>WHAT?! I HAVE NO IDEA WHAT YOU–
LANA
MIRK!
INT. JAZZ CLUB – PERFORMANCE NIGHT
MIRK
…that place that light cannot reach…
INT. HOTEL ROOM – NIGHT
Mirk and the band are drunk.
Mirk LOSES HIS SHIT, and starts chasing Stan around the
room.
MIRK (V.O.) (CON’T)
…where the gift of human kindness
withers and dies.
INT. JAZZ CLUB – AFTER HOURS
KEITH (O.C.)
What was that all about?
STAN
(laughing)
I don’t know! To this day I don’t know!
INT. HALLWAY – NIGHT
STAN (V.O.) (CON’T)
Probably off his radar the second he
passed out.
Stan sprints to the very end of the hallway and faces
Mirk, who is SCREAMING and charging at top speed.
INT. JAZZ CLUB – PERFORMANCE NIGHT
Mirk looks at the full drink in his hand as if he were seeing
it for the first time.
He notices Barry has joined him on stage. They regard one
another with a volume’s worth of unspoken words. A lot
can be read from Barry’s look. Could be love, could be
forgiveness, maybe he’s just ready to play…
MIRK
We all make mistakes, right? Spilt milk,
crumbled cookies, missed left turns… I
threw it all away ‘cause she was filling
up her glass with some other
motherfucker’s love… Blood n’ whiskey.
Blood n’ whiskey. No take-backs, no do-
overs, no second chance. You can’t change
the past, you can’t unring a bell, you
can’t love something that isn’t there,
and you can’t bring back…
There’s a lull. Mirk laughs weakly.
MIRK (CONT’D)
Take it Barry…! Move mountains!
Barry ascends into his solo with a HIGH SUSTAINED WAIL
and enters a sad, gorgeous song of the world for all the
world to hear. The audience is spellbound.
Mirk grieves silently. Waves and waves of pain radiate
from his core, leaving him broken and empty.
Mirk goes over to Keith, who has already gone pale from
Mirk’s last monologue.
WE CAN’T HEAR WHAT MIRK SAYS TO HIM, but Keith is not
taking it well whatever it is.
Having said his peace, Mirk returns to center stage just
as the solo is coming to an end.
MIRK (CONT’D)
Barry Chan, everybody!
THUNDEROUS APPLAUSE. Barry makes a humble bow.
MIRK (CONT’D)
TWO, THREE, FOUR!
All four musicians enter an UPBEAT IMPROVISATION just as
two cops enter the club. A COLLECTIVE BUZZ EMANATES FROM
THE CROWD as the two officers advance the stage.
MIRK (CONT’D)
Keep playin’, boys.
They do, glued to their instruments–worried glances
flashing between them.
Mirk leaps off the stage, his hands open and raised in
presentation (TA-DA!).
COP #1
Rough night, Mirk?
MIRK
You could say that.
KEITH
Mirk…! Mirk, what the hell happened?!
COP #2
You’re gonna have to come with us.
MIRK
Of course, officer… It’s a beautiful night.
They start to lead him away. Mirk doesn’t resist, he’s
fully resigned to his fate.
Keith stops playing, drops down and runs over to Mirk.
KEITH
What did you do, Mirk? Tell me!
Mirk’s face turns to stone, an inscrutable mask, his eyes
dead. The bass player reads the look and, fearing the
worst, darts out of the club.
Mirk passes Nancy. She’s holding his untouched fourth
drink on her tray.
MIRK
Have one on me, Nancy.