well, it's been a while since I wrote a script (Been working on tons of Music and writing Short Stories)
but I recently had this awesome idea strike me for a film and being a film student, I am so eager to start working on a either a feature or short. I just want to know what your general feelings, advice, opinion, etc... would be on the first two pages of this script. It's called Pop Culture Decay. I won't let on too much about the story and details right now. Just want to know if it is grabbing the reader as I imagine it myself.
INT. TATE’S ROOM - NIGHT
OUT OF FOCUS this room is tinted in neon green illuminating from each wall- walls covered in vast arrays of posters displaying the obscene and grotesque and all of their favorite rockers- in fluorescent tubes. The cheap tubes of light, FLICKERING. Three males, teenagers, were reclined in rickety office chairs. They resembled drugged up zombies in a decaying state of existence. One of them, wearing a death metal T-shirt, black Mohawk standing at least 6 inches perpendicular to his scalp in a thin sliver, is preparing something on a coffee table. Covered in gooey stains, pornographic catalogs of magazines and comic books. He is making a fix of drugs, on top of a heavily used copy of the Tibetan Book Of The Dead. The other two either watch impatiently or nod to ear piercing sounds of Metal drone. SLIPKNOT or something is playing.
Now all participants in frame, we see, too, that there is a girl laid out in a drug induced numbness. Her pale skin is covered in self inflicted scars. She’s wearing a trendy Gothic Mini-Skirt. Her face is a canvas of makeup, black makeup. Well worn down pair of black High-top Converse All Stars decorated in pentagrams. Her hair is also a Mohawk, but it isn’t gelled up, it just hangs about. Her breasts are large, clearly seen by the form of them, even through her ridiculously tattered Graphic T-shirt adorned by a ripped up design of an upside down pentagram.
TATE
Hurry the fuck up, Syntax.
The boy preparing the fix has finished. He chops it up finely with a rusty razor blade. His name is SYNTAX, the girl on the floor is TATE. The Asian emo looking boy in the chair, changing the song, is SCALE. And the one nodding off is VULTURE.
SYNTAX
Shut up, it’s done
(looks over to Tate)
C’mere
Like a puppet, she RISES. STUMBLING over to Syntax, she snorts up two rails, one for each nostril.
THRU HER EYES: Everything becomes WARPED. Syntax is looking her in the face, he is saying something, the high is so INTENSE she can’t hear anything. Like a wishy-washy wave, sound, slowly returns. She catches the tail end of his sentence and it’s all she needs to hear.
SYNTAX
You ready?
Syntax snorts up two rails and pounces on Tate, he flips her over and holds her face down into the couch as he thrusts in and out of her.
FOCUS ON: Tate, her eyes, her expression. She isn’t exactly there anymore.
Scale and Vulture do rushed lines of this strange drug and they soon take turns fucking Tate. One after the other.
The music wavers, everything is seen through a drug induced view until it finally fades.......
INT. TATE’S BATHROOM
The FRAME resolves issue with focus. Tate is hovering over the toilet, face FLUSTERED. She’s PUKING. HEAVING.
but I recently had this awesome idea strike me for a film and being a film student, I am so eager to start working on a either a feature or short. I just want to know what your general feelings, advice, opinion, etc... would be on the first two pages of this script. It's called Pop Culture Decay. I won't let on too much about the story and details right now. Just want to know if it is grabbing the reader as I imagine it myself.
INT. TATE’S ROOM - NIGHT
OUT OF FOCUS this room is tinted in neon green illuminating from each wall- walls covered in vast arrays of posters displaying the obscene and grotesque and all of their favorite rockers- in fluorescent tubes. The cheap tubes of light, FLICKERING. Three males, teenagers, were reclined in rickety office chairs. They resembled drugged up zombies in a decaying state of existence. One of them, wearing a death metal T-shirt, black Mohawk standing at least 6 inches perpendicular to his scalp in a thin sliver, is preparing something on a coffee table. Covered in gooey stains, pornographic catalogs of magazines and comic books. He is making a fix of drugs, on top of a heavily used copy of the Tibetan Book Of The Dead. The other two either watch impatiently or nod to ear piercing sounds of Metal drone. SLIPKNOT or something is playing.
Now all participants in frame, we see, too, that there is a girl laid out in a drug induced numbness. Her pale skin is covered in self inflicted scars. She’s wearing a trendy Gothic Mini-Skirt. Her face is a canvas of makeup, black makeup. Well worn down pair of black High-top Converse All Stars decorated in pentagrams. Her hair is also a Mohawk, but it isn’t gelled up, it just hangs about. Her breasts are large, clearly seen by the form of them, even through her ridiculously tattered Graphic T-shirt adorned by a ripped up design of an upside down pentagram.
TATE
Hurry the fuck up, Syntax.
The boy preparing the fix has finished. He chops it up finely with a rusty razor blade. His name is SYNTAX, the girl on the floor is TATE. The Asian emo looking boy in the chair, changing the song, is SCALE. And the one nodding off is VULTURE.
SYNTAX
Shut up, it’s done
(looks over to Tate)
C’mere
Like a puppet, she RISES. STUMBLING over to Syntax, she snorts up two rails, one for each nostril.
THRU HER EYES: Everything becomes WARPED. Syntax is looking her in the face, he is saying something, the high is so INTENSE she can’t hear anything. Like a wishy-washy wave, sound, slowly returns. She catches the tail end of his sentence and it’s all she needs to hear.
SYNTAX
You ready?
Syntax snorts up two rails and pounces on Tate, he flips her over and holds her face down into the couch as he thrusts in and out of her.
FOCUS ON: Tate, her eyes, her expression. She isn’t exactly there anymore.
Scale and Vulture do rushed lines of this strange drug and they soon take turns fucking Tate. One after the other.
The music wavers, everything is seen through a drug induced view until it finally fades.......
INT. TATE’S BATHROOM
The FRAME resolves issue with focus. Tate is hovering over the toilet, face FLUSTERED. She’s PUKING. HEAVING.
