I wrote this for a realism assignment. Thing is, it turned into a British Social Realism kinda film, like Ken Loach is renouned for, and I can't stand those fucking things. If I wanted to watch films about the grimness of the working classes I'd go outside and watch it. The whole piece is just miserable, but I did write it, so up here it goes. I'd like to work with the character again but not like this.
It's really quite a personal script and I put alot of my experiences of highschool into it, which would explain why it is so grim, but it isn't quite autobiographical.
by Adam Cheshire
1. INT. HIGH SCHOOL CORRIDOR. DAY.
A 15 year old boy (ANDREW STEVENS) stares at an oil painting,
the texture of the paint lifting slightly off the canvas, his
eyes wide in wonder. He is fascinated by it, running his
fingers gently across the canvas, feeling the texture. In the
background we can hear children enjoying their playtime. The
corridor itself is quiet. ANDREW looks at the painting for a
long time, taking in all its lines and details. The silence
is punctuated by the sound of footsteps, growing louder with
each step. The footsteps stop suddenly.
MR OLDRIDGE (O.S.)
Andrew Stevens.
This is MR OLDRIDGE (42), ANDREW'S chemistry teacher. He is
wearing a tweed jacket and has patches of grey in his hair.
He is standing a way down the corridor. Getting no
acknowledgement from ANDREW he begins to walk towards him at
a quicker pace than before, the footsteps echoing through the
corridor.
MR OLDRIDGE (O.S.)
Andrew Stevens!
ANDREW continues to pay him no heed, being too lost in the
painting to notice the angry voice calling his name, until
the teacher is practically upon him where, upon finally
hearing his name, he snaps out of his meditative trance and
looks up at MR OLDRIDGE, his hand still touching the
painting.
MR OLDRIDGE
Andrew Stevens! Didn't you hear me
calling you? Why aren't you outside
in the playground with the others?
ANDREW looks briefly at the painting. MR OLDRIDGE notices
that he is touching it.
MR OLDRIDGE
Andrew, art is for looking at, not
for touching! How do you think the
artist would feeling if he knew you
were here getting greasy finger
prints all over his work? A work
that he spent hours painting? How
do you think he would feel?
ANDREW stares up at MR OLDRIDGE but doesn't say a word. He
has a curious look in his eyes.
MR OLDRIDGE
Go and play with the other
children.
ANDREW continues to stare for a few more seconds, the curious
glint still in his eyes, before turning and running off down
the corridor.
2. INT. STAIRWELL. DAY.
SHOTS OF CHILDREN PLAYING FOOTBALL, GOSSIPING, SMOKING IN
CORNERS, BARGAINING OVER THE LATEST COLLECTABLE CRAZE AND
MUCKY FIGHTING.
ANDREW sits on a stairwell reading. The bell rings indicating
the end of playtime but ANDREW does not seem to notice.
Children pour in through the double doors at the bottom of
the stairwell. Suddenly ANDREW looks up from his book and
realizes that it is time to go to class. He puts his book in
his bag and follows the stream of others.
3. INT. CORRIDOR. DAY.
ANDREW walks down a busy corridor full of school children.
walking close to the wall, he is pushed and knocked against
it. This is joined by a series of insults from anonymous
people including words like "Mongo", "Battyboy" and "Gyppo".
4. INT. PHYSICS CLASS. DAY.
ANDREW sits a couple of rows from the front of the class. The
teacher is talking about Newton's laws of motion but ANDREW
isn't listening, even though physics is one of his favourite
lessons. Instead he plays with his programmable graphical
calculator, making it draw freaky swirls all over its tiny
LCD screen. On a piece of paper he has written out three
equations:
dx/dt = sigma (y-x)
dy/dt = rho x - y - xz
dz/dt = xy - beta z#
The teacher's voice is a low drone that doesn't quite sound
natural. While he continues to talk Andrew's pencil scrawls
across the page writing out little lines of computer code.
Suddenly, the teacher's voice changes tone.
PHYSICS TEACHER
Are there any questions?
ANDREW'S hand shoots up.
PHYSICS TEACHER
Yes, Andrew?
ANDREW
Aren't Newton's laws kinda
outdated? What about Einstein's
theories?
The rest of the class shift uneasily in their chairs. They
know that Andrew is about to start arguing with the teacher
over some pedantic point that they do not understand or care
about.
PHYSICS TEACHER (SMILING)
I think Einstein is a little too
advanced for high school, don't
you?
ANDREW
Yeah, but aren't they full of
holes? What's the point of learning
them if they don't work properly?
PHYSICS TEACHER
They work up to a point. It is only
under extreme circumstances, for
example in extremely high gravity
or on the quantum level, that they
begin to breakdown and I highly
doubt that any one of you would
have any use for any part of
quantum mechanics in your life.
ANDREW
But can't the same be said for
Newton's laws?
PHYSICS TEACHER (ANGRILY)
Listen, you little...
Before he can finish his sentence the bells goes to indicate
the end of the lesson. The students begin to pack their
things away and go to leave.
PHYSICS TEACHER (IRATE)
The bell is for me, not for you.
Take your seats!
The kids moan but sit back down in their seat whilst the
teacher gives them their homework for the night.
PHYSICS TEACHER
Now you can go.
The children pack up their bags and begin to leave the
classroom. On his way out one of the boys approaches Andrew.
STUDENT
Why you always gots to do that? Why
you always gots to make the teach
go on and on like a scratched CD?
ANDREW
What do you care? At least you
didn't have to do any work.
The boy shrugs and wanders out into the corridor while Andrew
finishes packing his rucksack and does the same.
5. EXT. SCHOOL YARD. LUNCHTIME. DAY.
ANDREW sits alone on a bench, picking through his packed
lunch. He eats a sandwich and a chocolate bar and throws the
rest away, letting the contents of the box fall into a nearby
dustbin. He makes his way to the library, his head down, eyes
scanning the ground in front of his feet, either lost in
thought or not wanting to make eye-contact with anyone. He
bumps into a large boy who is standing around with his
friends. This is JOHN PICKLIN, known through out the school
as the hardest kid on the estate. He is feared and respected
as only a 'bad boy' can be. He grabs ANDREW by the throat.
JOHN PICKLIN
Watch where your going, you fucking
Gyppo!
He throws ANDREW violently to the floor and walks away with
his crew who are laughing cruelly. Tears well up in ANDREW's
eyes and roll down his cheeks as he chokes for breath. He
staggers to his feet and makes his way to the toilet, staring
more intently at the floor now.
6. INT. TOILET. DAY.
ANDREW looks at his damp, reddened face in a mirror. He wipes
away the tear residue with a tisue which he goes to throw
into the bin but misses. The rolled up up tissues lies on the
floor. As ANDREW leaves we see "Andrew Stevens is a Mongo"
graffitied on the wall.
7. INT. LIBRARY FOYER. DAY.
The librarian (SARAH MORRISEY, 27) sits at her desk. She has
a kind, gentle face and glasses with thick lenses that swell
up her eyes to cow-like proportions. A book on autism in
children lies on her desk. When she sees ANDREW walking into
the library she pushes the book into a draw and smiles at
him.
SARAH
Hello Andrew!
ANDREW
Hello miss Morrissey...
ANDREW tries hard not to blush. He has a crush on Miss
Morrissey because she is one of the only people at the school
that treats him with kindness. She also gives him more
freedom in the library than she does the other students, in
exchange for ANDREW helping her out sometimes.
ANDREW
Is it okay if I go on the BBC
micros in the backroom?
SARAH
Of course it is!.. Actually,
Steven, could you do me a little
favour first? Could you put some
books away on the shelves for me?
I've been meaning to do it myself
all day but I'm plumb rushed off my
feet logging some new stock. You'd
be being a real help...
ANDREW
Of course!
SARAH
Your a peach. They're over there.
Sarah points at a pile of books which ANDREW proceeds to pick
up and walk into the main library room with.
7. INT. LIBRARY MAIN ROOM. DAY.
ANDREW kneels by bookshelf, looking for the right places to
put each book. On a nearby table three boys sit talking and
flicking through books of guns. ANDREW listens in on their
conversation.
BOY #1
I'm Telling you! This guy can get
you anything; pornos, movies,
albums, PS2 games, whatever you
want!
BOY #2
What's his name?
B0Y #1
Zer0, with a zero for the o. He's
like this hacker dude. You go to
his website and he's got these
lists of all the stuff he's got
B0Y #2
How much?
BOY #1
The disks are like a tenner each
and he fills them right up. You
gotta pay online or send a postal
note to this PO box with your
address and then he sends you the
stuff.
BOY #3
I heard off of Daniel that his dad
got him to hack the DVLA and wiped
his record clean.
BOY #2
Bullshit!
BOY #3
straight up!
BOY #2
Naaah...
BOY #1
I wish I knew how to hack the
internet. That would be so cool.
At this ANDREW looks like he wants to say something to the
boy but decides against it.
BOY #2
What's the address?
BOY #3 writes something on a piece of paper and hands it to
BOY #2.
BOY #1
It's like something out of the X
files!
ANDREW finishes putting books on the shelves and wanders
meekly into the backroom.
8. INT. LIBRARY BACKROOM. DAY.
ANDREW sits down in front of the monitor of a BBC micro. The
computer is over ten years old, a throwback to the 80s. It is
terribly antiquated but ANDREW doesn't care. His fingers fly
across the keyboard as he relishes the satisfying crunch the
buttons make. He makes the machine do random things; violent
bursts of colour, starfields, geometric shapes. He plays and
hacks as time just slips away. His typing rises in a
crescendo, starting off calm and regular but becoming chaotic
and violent. It is like he is pouring his soul through the
machine. Before he even realizes lunch-time is over the bell
rings. He saves what he has done to a large floppy disk which
he puts in a nearby disk box. He is in a much better mood
now. He picks up his bag and runs out the door.
ANDREW
Bye miss!
Sarah Morrissey smiles to herself.
9. EXT. COUNCIL ESTATE STREET. DAY.
ANDREW walks through a dilapidated council estate, keeping
his head down.
10. INT. COUNCIL HOUSE LIVING ROOM. DAY.
Two figures sit on a couch staring blankly into the glow of a
television. The curtains are drawn tight, the only light
emanating from the TV which bathe their faces in an unhealthy
neon glow.
ANDREW (O.S.)
Mum? Dad?
The two figures make no reply. ANDREW walks in through the
door.
ANDREW
Hey.
(grunt)
MUM
Hey ANDREW.
ANDREW
How was work mum?
MUM
Shite.
ANDREW
What's for dinner?
MUM
There's a pizza in the freezer. You
know where the oven is.
11. INT. KITCHEN. DAY.
ANDREW takes a pizza out of the freezer, turns the oven on
and puts it in, before running upstairs to his room.
12. INT. BEDROOM. DAY.
ANDREW walks into his bedroom. It is like some technological
dungeon; dark, musty and filled to the brim with computers,
books, and electronic equipment old and new. Circuit boards
and books are stacked in unstable piles all over the floor.
There is a bed in a corner with a desk opposite. There is a
piece of paper pinned to a cork-board with what appears to be
credit card numbers written on it. ANDREW makes his way
carefully through the debris and sits at his desk in front of
what looks like a very old PC. He moves the mouse and tabs
some keys and the thing suddenly springs to life displaying
the latest windows operating system. He checks a program
which lists file downloads in various states of completion.
He then loads up a website; "Zer0's Media Emporium" - the
website mentioned by the kids in the library. He logs in as
the administrator and checks the latest orders.
ANDREW STEVENS is Zer0. He sets to work burning CDs to be
sent off to his customers and browses his favourite websites.
FADE TO BLACK.
FADE IN:
13. INT. BEDROOM. NIGHT.
ANDREW sits at his cluttered desk writing addresses on
envelopes. He puts copied CDs into each of them, seals them
and fixes stamps to each before popping them into his
rucksack. He walks over to his bedroom window and opens it.
14. EXT. COUNCIL ESTATE STREET. NIGHT.
ANDREW walks down a darkened street, heading for a post box.
On the way he passes JOHN PICKLIN and his gang. They are
drinking and smoking weed in an alleyway. They begin to
follow him.
JOHN PICKLIN
(shouting)
Hey kid!
ANDREW looks back and sees the gang following him and begins
to run. They give chase. He makes it to a couple of hundred
yards from his destination before one of them catches up and
shoves him to the ground. The others catch up and begin to
kick and stomp on him. One of them rips the bag from his
shoulders, breaking the strap, and empties it out on the
ground. Others break away from beating ANDREW to have a look
at the envelopes. They tear them open and the CDs drop to the
ground, which they then squabble over, each one wanting a
souvenir from the beating. ANDREW lies on his back, his face
bloody and bruised, tears streaming from his eyes, sobs
choking at the back of his throat. JOHN stands over him
leering. He hocks up some flem and spits on ANDREW'S face.
The others laugh.
JOHN PICKLIN
You really are a fucking zero, you
know that kid?
JOHN rejoins the rest of his boys as they walk away joking
and laughing, leaving ANDREW sobbing, surrounded by the
tattered remains of his bag and torn up pieces of envelope.
FADE TO BLACK.
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