Hello
I wrote this with a lot of ideas in mind but no kinetic plot, I kinda wanted to do something like Taxi Driver's plot structure. I'm looking for things to add in between the time the script reaches 1962. Keep in mind this is HIGHLY under developed, but I like it. If you can leave me some advice, ideas, situations, characters, themes, what have you.
=====================================================================
H U S T L E !
Written
By
Conor J.
Story
By
Conor J.
FIRST DRAFT - EDIT
---------------------------------------------------------
“I’m a flea bit peanut monkey
All my friends are junkies”
The Rolling Stones, Monkey Man
---------------------------------------------------------
MILES MONROE
Miles is a dealer, a pusher man, a peddler, a hustler, you know the type. Money goes in and assortment of various paraphernalia goes out. Need some grass? Coke? Hash? Heroin? Uppers? downers? How about a brand new Cadillac, with the pink slip, for just two grand!? All you gotta do is go through Miles. Miles enjoys reading but digs movies way more. His favorite movie is Fred Zinnemann’s High Noon. He can relate to the gunmen a lot and likes consider himself an outlaw the same. Miles now gets by selling, heroin mostly, to low-rent jazz musicians and winos. Miles shoots the stuff himself, he started in an attempt to get rid of his insomnia. His sleep has only gotten worse.
INT. MILES ROOM - TIME? WHO THE FUCK KNOWS?
BLACK AND WHITE:
The film is shot with the visual texture of a 1950’s anti-drug propaganda film and is black and white throughout. The date 1952 is super imposed over everything in Miriam font for a few brief seconds. The room is smoky and appears through fumes of exhaust. Everything sits still in motion. Friends/customers are all around, partying, hangin’ out, chillen. Ray Charles, What I Say vibrates throughout the tenements.
MILES
I’m working real hard now, in the evening sometimes even during the day. Like a well oiled machine. It’s all clockwork. It don’t much help though, I still can’t sleep.
Motion sets in and the whole room moves like a slow doped-up fever dream. We move in closer to Miles, leaning back in his recliner like as if it were his throne.
MILES
The dope don’t work neither, it only makes the dreams worse. Damn it man!
CUT TO:
Quick shots of syringes, oxy cottons, rubber ropes, and rolling papers. Little Eva, The Locomotion kicks in.
CREDITS:
HUSTLE!
WRITTEN
AND
DIRECTED
BY CONOR J.
---------------------------------------------------------
INT. MILES ROOM - MIDDAY
Miles sits in his recliner cooking up some dope to stab into his veins. While waiting Miles listens to the radio. Ray Barreto, El Watusi is playing. He straps the rubber rope around his arm. His vein pulsates. He fills up the syringe. 1… 2… 3… KNOCK! KNOCK! KNOCK! Someone’s at the door.
MILES
Come in, it’s open.
BLAST OFF! The euphoria shoots into his blood stream. Everything moves in slow-motion. Tranquilized bliss. It’s as though everything is seen from inside a fishbowl. WALKING THROUGH THE DOOR is “LITTLE” ANTHONY. Anthony came by to grab his weekly pick me up. He pays in advance so Miles isn’t too paranoid about getting taken advantage of.
“LITTLE” ANTHONY
Just came by for my weekly pick me up.
Miles sees the words mouthed to him, nods his head, and points over to a ceramic pug on the floor.
MILES
It’s in the pug.
Anthony opens up the top, grabs his dope, and splits. Miles sits alone by himself reflecting in opiate as the music starts to slowly dim.
---------------------------------------------------------
INT. MILES ROOM - 12:00 P.M.
Miles is dancing with two hookers he picked up from god knows where. The Cleftons, My Angel Lover is playing over the radio. Miles drowns his shirtless body in vodka. He moves violently, dancing the alcohol’s stench off his torso. The hookers are both too whacked out to know what’s going on anyway. Everything fades out.
FADES IN:
Miles lay on his bed exhausted and inebriated, the hookers walked out the door a while ago. Duane Eddie, Rebel Rouser plays in the background. Miles decides to shoot up, we look away.
MILES
No matter where I go or what I do I can’t escape. My life is one long continuous opium dream. Sleep walking through the days and wake walking through the nights. There's no end.
CUT TO:
Quick cuts of religious iconography with narcotic iconography in Miles room. We focus in on Miles in concentration and on his arm. Everything fades.
---------------------------------------------------------
INT. MILES - MIDDAY, 1962
LONG TRACKING SHOT:
Super imposed over everything is 1962 in Miriam font. The film now performs one of it’s most difficult shots and it plays out to The Rolling Stones, Monkey Man. The camera hovers over, very closely, a table filled with drug paraphernalia, in a very Dario Argento like fashion. Take note the camera is continuously moving from left to right throughout the shot. The table is completely black and so is the background. Lines of cocaine on the table get chopped up an scooped in a line, then the camera moves over open syringe cases next a bottle of pills, and slowly moving up to the top of a hookah. The camera then dives into a pile of rubber rope, gliding down along the rope it comes back up to find a pair of glasses. A hand reaches over the table from the other end and picks them up. The camera now moves past the glasses and tracks across a very prominent looking bowel. The camera now sees more bottles of pills and pans to the right of them following these long and elaborate syringes. The shot fades out upon reaching the syringes.
---------------------------------------------------------
INT. MILES ROOM - 12:30
Looking at an empty wall the camera moves in fast and stops as Miles picks his head up with cocaine sprinkled under his nose. The sound of an airplane follows this camera motion. O’Jays, Love Train plays in the background. Miles is fucked up. The camera moves at rapid speed, almost as though it’s as coked up and paranoid as Miles.
I wrote this with a lot of ideas in mind but no kinetic plot, I kinda wanted to do something like Taxi Driver's plot structure. I'm looking for things to add in between the time the script reaches 1962. Keep in mind this is HIGHLY under developed, but I like it. If you can leave me some advice, ideas, situations, characters, themes, what have you.
=====================================================================
H U S T L E !
Written
By
Conor J.
Story
By
Conor J.
FIRST DRAFT - EDIT
---------------------------------------------------------
“I’m a flea bit peanut monkey
All my friends are junkies”
The Rolling Stones, Monkey Man
---------------------------------------------------------
MILES MONROE
Miles is a dealer, a pusher man, a peddler, a hustler, you know the type. Money goes in and assortment of various paraphernalia goes out. Need some grass? Coke? Hash? Heroin? Uppers? downers? How about a brand new Cadillac, with the pink slip, for just two grand!? All you gotta do is go through Miles. Miles enjoys reading but digs movies way more. His favorite movie is Fred Zinnemann’s High Noon. He can relate to the gunmen a lot and likes consider himself an outlaw the same. Miles now gets by selling, heroin mostly, to low-rent jazz musicians and winos. Miles shoots the stuff himself, he started in an attempt to get rid of his insomnia. His sleep has only gotten worse.
INT. MILES ROOM - TIME? WHO THE FUCK KNOWS?
BLACK AND WHITE:
The film is shot with the visual texture of a 1950’s anti-drug propaganda film and is black and white throughout. The date 1952 is super imposed over everything in Miriam font for a few brief seconds. The room is smoky and appears through fumes of exhaust. Everything sits still in motion. Friends/customers are all around, partying, hangin’ out, chillen. Ray Charles, What I Say vibrates throughout the tenements.
MILES
I’m working real hard now, in the evening sometimes even during the day. Like a well oiled machine. It’s all clockwork. It don’t much help though, I still can’t sleep.
Motion sets in and the whole room moves like a slow doped-up fever dream. We move in closer to Miles, leaning back in his recliner like as if it were his throne.
MILES
The dope don’t work neither, it only makes the dreams worse. Damn it man!
CUT TO:
Quick shots of syringes, oxy cottons, rubber ropes, and rolling papers. Little Eva, The Locomotion kicks in.
CREDITS:
HUSTLE!
WRITTEN
AND
DIRECTED
BY CONOR J.
---------------------------------------------------------
INT. MILES ROOM - MIDDAY
Miles sits in his recliner cooking up some dope to stab into his veins. While waiting Miles listens to the radio. Ray Barreto, El Watusi is playing. He straps the rubber rope around his arm. His vein pulsates. He fills up the syringe. 1… 2… 3… KNOCK! KNOCK! KNOCK! Someone’s at the door.
MILES
Come in, it’s open.
BLAST OFF! The euphoria shoots into his blood stream. Everything moves in slow-motion. Tranquilized bliss. It’s as though everything is seen from inside a fishbowl. WALKING THROUGH THE DOOR is “LITTLE” ANTHONY. Anthony came by to grab his weekly pick me up. He pays in advance so Miles isn’t too paranoid about getting taken advantage of.
“LITTLE” ANTHONY
Just came by for my weekly pick me up.
Miles sees the words mouthed to him, nods his head, and points over to a ceramic pug on the floor.
MILES
It’s in the pug.
Anthony opens up the top, grabs his dope, and splits. Miles sits alone by himself reflecting in opiate as the music starts to slowly dim.
---------------------------------------------------------
INT. MILES ROOM - 12:00 P.M.
Miles is dancing with two hookers he picked up from god knows where. The Cleftons, My Angel Lover is playing over the radio. Miles drowns his shirtless body in vodka. He moves violently, dancing the alcohol’s stench off his torso. The hookers are both too whacked out to know what’s going on anyway. Everything fades out.
FADES IN:
Miles lay on his bed exhausted and inebriated, the hookers walked out the door a while ago. Duane Eddie, Rebel Rouser plays in the background. Miles decides to shoot up, we look away.
MILES
No matter where I go or what I do I can’t escape. My life is one long continuous opium dream. Sleep walking through the days and wake walking through the nights. There's no end.
CUT TO:
Quick cuts of religious iconography with narcotic iconography in Miles room. We focus in on Miles in concentration and on his arm. Everything fades.
---------------------------------------------------------
INT. MILES - MIDDAY, 1962
LONG TRACKING SHOT:
Super imposed over everything is 1962 in Miriam font. The film now performs one of it’s most difficult shots and it plays out to The Rolling Stones, Monkey Man. The camera hovers over, very closely, a table filled with drug paraphernalia, in a very Dario Argento like fashion. Take note the camera is continuously moving from left to right throughout the shot. The table is completely black and so is the background. Lines of cocaine on the table get chopped up an scooped in a line, then the camera moves over open syringe cases next a bottle of pills, and slowly moving up to the top of a hookah. The camera then dives into a pile of rubber rope, gliding down along the rope it comes back up to find a pair of glasses. A hand reaches over the table from the other end and picks them up. The camera now moves past the glasses and tracks across a very prominent looking bowel. The camera now sees more bottles of pills and pans to the right of them following these long and elaborate syringes. The shot fades out upon reaching the syringes.
---------------------------------------------------------
INT. MILES ROOM - 12:30
Looking at an empty wall the camera moves in fast and stops as Miles picks his head up with cocaine sprinkled under his nose. The sound of an airplane follows this camera motion. O’Jays, Love Train plays in the background. Miles is fucked up. The camera moves at rapid speed, almost as though it’s as coked up and paranoid as Miles.
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