My script relies heavily on screen directions and strong descriptions. I very much enjoyed writing this script for my coursework, and I look forward to writing and creating new scripts in the future.
FALLING TOWER
Written by
Joseph Garside
INT. BROOKLYN, APARTMENT BLOCK – DAYTIME 1.
Loud voices that yell and argue can be heard throughout the building that resides in a torn up town in the north of Brooklyn. The building is full of drug pushers and crack addicts; voices can be heard towards the top of the building from angry men chasing up terrified people that have payments due. The buildings hallways and staircases are coated in all varieties of graffiti and dirt stains. Outside of the apartment block is a main road that taxis speed down, and opposite is a large liquor store that lights up with luminous greens and blues.
INT. ALEX RHODODENDRON’S FLAT, 5TH FLOOR – 2.
DAYTIME
Whereas inside of ALEX’s flat is quite the opposite. It’s full of nic-nacs such as lamps and candles, more than one would expect. The atmosphere that Alex has created inside is very comfortable and welcoming. However, today Alex and his partner ELLIOTT are having an argument, and the atmosphere is tense and unsettling.
Alex Rhododendron, a skinny, dark curly haired, twenty-one year old, is wearing tight light blue jeans, an over-sized but comfy grey sweater, and sneaker boots. He is sitting down in his black leather couch that is filled with dark blue cushions, as he taps his foot repeatedly. Elliott Skymore, a slim, dark fine haired, nineteen year old, is wearing black sweatpants, a tight fitted white t-shirt that outlines his well-defined body, and big black boots. He stands opposite Alex in front of a towering house plant, and looks towards him with a saddened expression.
(CONT:)
CONT:
ELLIOTT
I never wanted it to come to this.
ALEX
(Raised voice)
Yeah well it has, and I don’t need you yelling down my ear about it, I’ve already got my parents glaring at me with disgust in their eyes.
ELLIOTT
(Offended)
Alex, don’t shout at me, I’m trying to talk to you sensibly, this isn’t supposed to be an argument.
Alex bites down on his jaw whilst looking into the corner of the room.
ALEX
(Bitter tone)
I don’t want to talk to you.
The sadness can be seen in Elliott’s eyes. He wanders around on the spot thinking about what to do. He grabs his leather jacket and dashes out of the front door.
(CONT:)
CONT:
INT. INSIDE PICK UP TRUCK – DAYTIME 3.
After storming out of Alex’s flat, Elliott lets off some steam by taking a drive in his worn down red pickup truck that has a terrible paint job. However, to Elliott’s disadvantage, he is held up in heavy traffic in the streets of Brooklyn. Drivers including Elliott are agitated and angry.
Elliott closes his eyes and holds back the heavy tears that keep trying to fall out, until he finally breaks, and tears of despair roll down his face. As the traffic begins to move, a vehicle speeding towards Elliott smashes into the car. The horrific sound of blistering tyres roaring, heavy metal twisting, and the last screams of Elliott’s voice fill the scene of a horrendous car crash.
(CUT TO)
EXT. SCENE OF CAR CRASH – EARLY NIGHT 4.
Ambulance sirens can be heard in the distance, slowly travelling towards the crash. Police lights flood the scene with vibrant reds and blues. Elliott is lay face down on his steering wheel, the blood that drips is recoloured from all of the flashing lights.
(FADE TO BLACK)
(FADE IN FROM BLACK)
INT. ALEX RHODEDNDRON’S MESSY, UNKEPT LIVING ROOM – 5.
NIGHT (TWO WEEKS AFTER THE CAR CRASH)
The bright glaring light from a television screen projects a blue aura into Alex’s living room. Alex is seen slouching back into his couch. He is wearing tight blue jeans, and a black t-shirt so skin-tight, it almost looks as though it’d be difficult to breathe in it.
(CONT:)
CONT:
Alex’s coffee table is stacked full with dirty plates, half empty cups of both tea and alcoholic beverages, and unorganized piles of paperwork soon due in for his college course. The state of Alex’s living space fits well into his state of mind.
Alex has his eyes fixated on the television screen, although the expression on his face tells us that he’s in some sort of trance, and is actually looking straight through to the wall.
Close ups of the late evening television show spits out dazed and meaningless words. The moving images on the screen flood the room with a deep blue that gives the effect that everything is floating in a bottomless ocean.
Suddenly, a loud buzzing that sounds like a deadly mosquito alerts from Alex’s mobile phone. The luminous mobile screen shows that CHLOE is ringing.
Alex mindlessly picks up his mobile without looking at who is calling.
ALEX
(Hesitantly)
Hello...
CHLOE
(Over phone, strong Brooklyn accent)
Alex? What the hell. It’s been three days since we’ve spoken. Did you forget we were supposed to meet on Wednesday at 12?
Alex narrows his eyes and takes a look at his mobile to see who is calling, his eyes widen when he realises who it is…
(CONT:)
CONT:
ALEX
(Nervous and apologetic tone)
Chloe… I’m- You know I’m so sorry right? I- Things haven’t been normal lately. I’m out of it.
Alex is now undoubtedly out of his trance; his arched eyebrows expose his deep concentration as he runs his fingers through his thick, black, ear length hair.
CHLOE
(Over phone, sympathetic but sharp tone)
Listen, I understand. But Alex, I’m not letting this slip. You need help. Me, and everybody else are worried sick for you.
A prolonged silence occurs as Alex listens to Chloe’s breath on the other end of the line. He gently closes his eyes, as the look on his face tells us that he knows there’s something terribly wrong with himself.
CHLOE
(Over phone, decisive tone)
Listen, I’m in town tonight with Mark. I’m coming over to your flat at nine, okay? I’m coming alone, obviously. We need to talk.
ALEX
Yeah, err, sure. I’ll see you then.
Alex quickly hangs up and looks at his surroundings.
(CONT:)
CONT:
(CUT TO)
INT. BRIGHTLY LIGHTED BATHROOM – NIGHT (CONTINUOUS) 6.
Alex rushes into his bathroom, which has extremely expressive lighting that exposes every miniscule detail of Alex’s tired and drained face. The bathroom is considerably small, which just about fits in a bath, sink, and toilet. The white tiles on the wall are immaculately clean, and shine bright from the lighting.
Alex stands still, whilst looking into his reflection in the perfectly polished mirrored cabinet above his sink, that stores prescribed drugs from A-Z.
Alex stares with an almost sickened expression on his face. He clears his throat, which highlights the tears that glaze his eyeballs in a glossy coat. He swings open the mirrored cabinet to distract himself from his reflection, and hunts through his crammed-full medicine cabinet.
After searching and hoping to find something that will ease the stinging in his mind, he gives up when he cannot find anything of use.
He runs the cold tap and holds his hands underneath until the water splashing out is so icy cold it turns his hands red. He cups and fills his hands with gushing water, and splashes his flushed face several times.
Alex leans over the sink whilst taking deep breaths, he softly closes his eyes shut as beads of water drip from his nose, eyelashes and chin.
INT. MESSY LIVING ROOM – NIGHT 7.
Alex wanders aimlessly around his living room, walking over and dodging the mess that lies on his floor. He checks his mobile phone; the bright light that blares from the screen almost shouts 20:39 in his direction. Chloe is expected over at his flat in almost twenty minutes.
(CONT:)
CONT:
He switches off the television with his remote control; the screen switches off in an old style, as the images descend vertically in a strike of bright light. He fills the room with dim lighting as he turns on numerous lamps. The living room now looks a fraction less depressing as the edges of the room walls are now visible, rather than looking like mysterious black spaces that delve into an alternate universe.
He pulls open the thick velvet curtains that block out the light from all of the street lamps and passing cars outside. The living room looks evidently different, now that burning orange lights from the outside street lamps shine down on the furniture, creating big ghastly shadows. He lifts open the heavy window that releases the sounds of angry drivers speeding by.
Alex sits on his window ledge and looks down towards the street pavement; rain puddles shine bright and reflect the beaming green and blue light from the liquor store’s neon signs. Heavy pellets of rain plummet down from the dark sky onto the back of Alex’s hand, which rests on the window ledge.
(CUT TO)
INT. INSIDE A YELLOW TAXI – NIGHT (CONTINUOUS) 8.
As Chloe rides to Alex’s flat, she sits with her leg crossed in the back seat of a cab with her earphones in, whilst listening to an old Britney album. The rain hits down hard on the glass windows. The lighting inside the taxi is dim, and everything inside is hard to make out. However Chloe is clearly visible as her phone light illuminates her chest and face.
Chloe is a nineteen-year-old girl with blonde shoulder length hair that she usually wears up in two buns, as she likes to express her style through her hair. Her eyelids are coated in matte black eye shadow, which matches the tight black t-shirt that she is wearing.
(CONT:)
CONT:
(CUT TO)
INT. ALEX’S LIVING ROOM – NIGHT (CONTINUOUS) 9.
An extreme close up shot captures Alex’s face as he’s staring far into the distance, thinking in a deep daze. He bites and plays with his lips subconsciously. Alex is hauled into concentration as he notices that a yellow cab pulls in outside of his building. Chloe has arrived.
Alex paces on the spot as he holds one hand to his chest whilst simultaneously rubbing the side of his face with the other. The doorbell buzzes like the sound of an electric chair in full force. Alex darts his eyes in the doors direction and slowly makes his way towards it.
Alex unbolts his front door and swings it wide open, revealing Chloe’s full body. Chloe wipes the rain off from her forehead and looks into Alex’s eyes.
CHLOE
Hey mental boy
ALEX
Hi…
Chloe invites herself in and hugs Alex, he looks comforted. As they’re held together, Chloe’s eyes open and divert to Alex’s living room. Her face holds an expression of concern.
As they both withdraw from the hug, Chloe looks into Alex’s eyes.
CHLOE
Get your cigarettes out; we need to talk.
TITLE:
FALLING TOWER, OPENING CREDITS
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