Movie Fantasy

HINKLE IN HOLLYWOOD
12/28/10

theme: the net made me do it.

Genre: horror, noir, adventure, thriller, romance, family

a treatment

fade in...

EXT. NIGHT. LAX
United Air's plane lands, roaring over two drug dealers on "easy rider" motorcycles exchanging a sizable amount of white powder with a haggard guy in a dark limo.

Off the plane into the humid air steps DON HINKLE. He's an average American: tall, dark, full head of hair, broad-shouldered; a twinkle in his eyes is so pronounced it can be seen even through the dark sunglasses.

FEMALE FLIGHT ATTENDANT
Have a nice visit in LA, Mr. Hinkle. Hope all your dreams come true... whatever they are.

DON
...thanks, ma'am. You too. I mean, yours true. (flustered) Shucks, thanks! I'll just be glad to see the sights. I mean, I don't really expect to sell a script on my first visit.

FEMALE FLIGHT ATTENDANT
Well, this is Hollywood. You never can tell!

Behind, a large woman with a small poodle is trying to shush the dog's incessant yipping.

FEMALE FLIGHT ATTENDANT
Would you like me to have that dog put to sleep, Mrs. Gotbux?

LARGE WOMAN
No thank you. My husband the producer will attend to it as soon as he picks me up.

DON reaches out. The little dog gratefully LEAPS into his arms.

LARGE WOMAN
Sheba! Come back to Momma!

DON scratches the dog behind its ears. The dog purrs loudly.

They are descending the ramp.

LARGE WOMAN
Goodness. I've never seen Sheba behave this way!

DON at bottom of ramp, hands Sheba back.

DON
Just show her you love her. She'll be fine.

LARGE WOMAN
(to dog)
Is that true, Little Sheba? You know Momma loves you, don't you?

WOMAN AND DOG go off.

INT. TERMINAL BAGGAGE COUNTER (CONT)
Don watches bags rotate around.
He sees his battered duffle.
He starts to move through crowd to get it.

BUT a small blonde female dashes forward and grabs his duffle.

DON
Hey! Uh, miss!

BLONDE glances at his voice, turns aside, disappears in crowd.

Don rushes outside, sees Blonde get into taxi and speed off.

DON
Damn! That had my script in it!

DISSOLVE TO...

EXT. STREET.
Taxi stops in front of club.
Sign on front reads: "INT. WRITERS' HANGOUT. NIGHT".
Don pays cabbie and enters club.

INT. WRITERS' HANGOUT
Decor is mid-Forties Noir. Black-and-white with lots of shadows and highlights. Every face is seen in partial shadow. On walls are first pages of 80 years' worth of scripts.

In booths and at tables sit prominent writers. Some scribble on paper, most work at laptop computers, some just talk-- intensely, lackadaisacally, with or without brio, humor, anger, fear, disgust, etc.

Don moves through room, meeting various members. All are tall, casually-but-expensively dressed, well-haired and handsome and/or beautiful.

At one table in the back sit two men: one, MILIUS, is large, hulking; the other, QUENTIN, is skinny and pale. They are arm wrestling. Just to make the game interesting, two shiny blades stuck into the table threaten their bare arms: the loser will shed blood.

MILIUS
(straining, with effort)
Say it!

QUENTIN
(gasping)
Fuck you!

Milius forces harder and has Quentin's arm only centimeters from the sharp blade, then...

BLONDE slides into a spare seat between them, and drops Don's duffle onto the table, knocking the blades aside.

BLONDE
Here it is, you jerks.

Quentin and Milius both grab for the bag, unzip it, and pull out The Script.
Milius tugs it away and opens it.

CLOSEUP
shows the title page: "INHERIT THE SCREEN, an original screenplay by Don Hinkle"

MILIUS snorts, hands script to Quentin.

Quentin reads, slaps self on head.

QUENTIN
Shit! This is good shit! What are we gonna do?

MILIUS pulls dead-black automatic pistol from under his sweating armpit.

MILIUS
This town belongs to me. No fuckin outsider comes in and shows off his shit.

QUENTIN
Good fuckin' idea!

Quentin dislodges a sawed-off shotgun from beneath the table.

Both men turn and look across room at Don...

Don sips a cup of herbal tea, but some movement catches his eye.
He looks, sees the Blonde, then sees..
..his duffle, then sees...
...his script on the table, then sees...
...the guys and their guns.

DON slowly puts down his cup and turns to a lovely woman in black.

DON
Is there a back way outta here?

WOMAN points to rear of club.

SUDDENLY a commotion, strange sounds.

The Large Woman is sprawled across the table where Milius and Quentin sit. Her poodle strains at the leash, its teeth embedded in Milius' calf muscle.

LARGE WOMAN
Sheba! Stop that! Stop that right now! I love you!

Quentin threatens the dog with his shotgun, then points it at the Large Woman, then back to the dog. Indecision makes sweat pop out of his pale face.

MILIUS
(in agony)
Shoot! Shoot!

SUDDENLY, a distinguished-looking gentleman (AGENT) at the bar turns and shouts...

AGENT
Stop!

The noise stops.

AGENT waves the script.

AGENT
This is good! What am I bid?

PRODUCER
I'll take it, if you say it's good.

AGENT pulls out a contract, signals barkeep to open a bottle of Champagne, and he and PRODUCER huddle.

DON
separates poodle's teeth from Milius' calf.

Milius clasps Don's hand with both his paws.

MILIUS
Thank you! You came in here a nobody from the sticks...

QUENTIN
..and you're going out feet first!

His shotgun barrels are pushing Don's nose sideways.

SUDDENLY
Other writers rise and begin singing and dancing:

CHORUS
We got a dream,
A dream of the screen.
Fillum.
It's all about fillum.
We put our dreams on fillum.
It'ss on the screen.
IT's the MOVIES,
the MOVIES,
Movie dreamin on the LA side..
(etc.)

Quentin, Milius, the Blonde, the Large Woman, and Don join in and all sing as..

FADE OUT

THE END