The Visibility - Script Extract

Thanks for all your nice feedback on a story I posted last year. Rachel Fox mentioned in her comment that it might make a good TV Play. Funnily enough, I have spent some time working it up as a short film script.

So I thought it might be fun to also show you just a few pages of that.

Some of the original script-formatting has been lost on the way to the blog-page.

Oh, can I also just warn you that there is quite a bit of strong language in this extract. So if that sort of thing bugs you, perhaps you might call back next time.

I promise I'll be better behaved then.




FADE IN:

Int--night--driving in a car.


The windscreen wipers are going fast. Lots of rain is coming down.

The headlights are on full beam but still they hardly put a dent in the gloomy road unfolding before the car.

Maurice (V.O. Darkness)
I knew I had to kill him. I just didn't know how...


Int--day--The Confessional


It is dark.

A panel slides back revealing the dimly-lit silhouette of the priest in the next booth.

Priest
Yes?

Maurice
Bless me father, I have sinned.

Priest
Yes?

Maurice
It is twenty-seven years since my last confession.

An awkward silence.

Priest
Yes?

Maurice
I've forgotten the 'Act of Contrition', father.

Priest
I'm sure we'll find a way around that, Maurice.

Maurice
You know who I am.

Priest
It's only a bit of chicken-wire that's between us.

Maurice
And the seal of confession.

Priest
That too. Tell God your sins.

Maurice struggles inwardly.

Maurice
I killed a man.

Priest
Now Maurice, we all know that was an accident...

Maurice
Are you my priest or my fuckin' judge?

Priest
Carry on so.

Maurice
He was my neighbour. I knew I had to kill him. I just didn't know how.

Ext--day--A pasture--running down to a river

A beautiful summer's day. The grass is long and the fast-flowing river looks cool and inviting.

Maurice (v.o.)
I had all the land I needed, except for the river pasture.

Int-- evening --the pub

CLOSE UP of a tattered old Ordnance Survey map being slammed onto the beer-soaked bar counter.

Maurice (o.s.)
One Two five. Final word.

LUDLOW looks up from his pint and into Maurice's eyes.

Ludlow
Sure it's not worth half that.

Maurice
Still and all. It's a one time offer. Take it or leave it.

Ludlow sups his pint.

Ludlow
I'll leave it so.

The bar echoes with quiet laughter. All the customers have been listening.

Maurice
Why won't you sell? You don't use it for anything.

Ludlow drapes a comradely arm around Maurice's shoulder.

Ludlow
I'm an old man, Maurice, I've few pleasures left to me.

He leans in conspiratorially.

Ludlow (cont'd)
Watching you fuckin' squirmin' is one of them.

Maurice gets up storms off to the toilet. A young man, MILES, leaves the table of guys he was drinking with and follows Maurice out.

Int--evening --the toilet

MAURICE is having a piss against the stainless steel urinal.

MILES comes and stands beside him. He unzips.

Miles
He's an old prick.

Maurice
He is.

Miles
He coughs and chokes all night these nights.

Maurice
Does he?

Miles
When he dies, I'll sell it to you.

Maurice
Will you?

Miles
I will. For the price you mentioned.

Maurice
Right. Good man.

Miles
It'll have to be index linked though.

Maurice
What?

Miles
The price, index linked, yeah?

Maurice
What's that?

Miles
I don't know.

Maurice
Index linked it'll be so.

He extends a hand. Miles eyes it warily.

Miles
Maybe we'll have a bit of a wash first.

Int--day--the doctor's surgery

MAURICE has his shirt up around his neck while McQUAID, the doctor, listens to his chest.

McQuaid
Smoke?

Maurice
Yeah.

McQuaid
Drink?

Maurice
Yeah.

McQuaid
How many units?

Maurice
Seven pints or so.

McQuaid
A week?

Maurice looks at him as if he is mad.

McQuaid
Christ.

He motions for Maurice to dress himself.

McQuaid
You're as well as you can hope for.

Maurice turns his back while tucking in his trousers.

Maurice
Better than old Ludlow so.

McQuaid
Who?

Maurice
Ludlow. I heard he was bad.

McQuaid shakes his head.

McQuaid
The man's an ox. He'll bury us all.


(c) Ken Armstrong

Bad With Names

I have always been bad with names. Close family members are not a problem and my wife’s name trips easily off the tongue at this stage but all others remain difficult.

These days I have come to terms with the problem. The trick was to stop trying to bluff my way around the fact that I obviously haven’t a clue who you are. Generally, I’ll now come clean and just say, "I’m sorry but I’ve forgotten your name again." This honest approach seems to work well.

But this lesson was not learned easily. There were many stumbles along the road to realising that I have a head like a sieve. The final knock - also the worst - was the one which made me give up trying to muddle though, once and for all.

I had just started in the Architects office where I then worked. On my first day I had been introduced to fourteen very fine people and, true to form, I had immediately forgotten every single one of their names. All except the boss - I’m bad but not that bad. After three weeks of bluff, counter-bluff and confusion, a new recruit came to work in the office. I was no longer the ‘new-boy’ and I resolved I would make a clean start by committing this new man’s name to memory and never ever forget it again.

My happiness knew no bounds when we were finally introduced. His name turned out to be Finnegan... Michael Finnegan. "Now this will be easy," I said to myself, "I actually know a song about a man called Michael Finnegan. If I mentally file his name away with that song then I will never lose it." As I recall, I even sang a bit of the song to myself, to embed the knowledge in my brain.

"There was an auld man called Michael Finnegan,
he grew fat and then grew thin again,
he caught a fish and threw him in again
poor auld Michael Finnegan.
Begin again."

I had this one sorted, no bother. I looked forward, with great anticipation, to my amazing recollection of the new guy’s name.

I didn’t have very long to wait. A client was coming into our office and Michael was due to meet him. I was asked to look after the initial introductions. A request like this would normally have got me scribbling on my cuffs but not this time. This time I was in control.

This client and I were busy tucking into tea and digestive biscuits when the new man came in. Immediate introductions were required and I sprang to the task with no small measure of enthusiasm.

"I would like," said I, "I would like to introduce you to the man who will be dealing with your project from now on. His name is... Patrick McGinty."

So, if we ever meet and, with a smile, I admit that I can’t seem to remember your name, please forgive me.

It is definitely better if I don't try.