1. Upload screenplays, film clips from Get Out, Last Year at Marienbad, Cries and Whispers, Wild Strawberries, K-CoreaINC.K.
  2. Turn on projector.
  3. Assign roles from Get Out scene: Action, Rose, Chris, Missy, Dean.
  4. Read out loud scenes from Get Out screenplay from projector.
  1. Watch scenes from Get Out, 00:13:36 - 00:16:20
  2. Assign roles from Last Year at Marienbad scene: Action, Italics, Man, Woman.
  3. Read out loud scenes from Last Year at Marienbad screenplay from projector.
  1. Watch scenes from Last Year at Marienbad, 00:10:18 - 00:14:33.
  1. Assign role from Cries and Whispers scene: Action.
  2. Read out loud scene from Cries and Whispers screenplay from projector. [image: cries_1; image caption: excerpt]
  3. Watch scene from Cries and Whispers, 00:16:08 - 00:21:12. [image: cries_2]
  1. Assign role from Wild Strawberries scene: Action, Sara, Isak.
  2. Read out loud scenes from Wild Strawberries screenplay from projector.
  3. Watch scene from Wild Strawberries, 00:53:07 - 00:57:36.
  4. Assign role from K-CoreaINC.K scene: alternating lines.
  5. Read out loud scenes from K-CoreaINC.K screenplay from projector.
  6. Watch scene from K-CoreaINC.K, 00:00:00 - 00:02:49.
  1. intermission.
  2. Fetch 4 individual laptops.
  3. Write 4 screenplays (5 min).
  4. Pass laptop to a new person.
  5. Read written screenplays (1 min).
  6. Continue writing 4 screenplays (5 min).
  7. Pass laptop to a new person.
  8. Read written screenplays (1 min).
  9. Continue writing 4 screenplays (5 min).
  10. Pass laptop to a new person.
  11. Read written screenplays (1 min).
  12. Complete writing 4 screenplays (5 min).
  13. Connect to projector.
  14. Read out loud screenplay 1 from projector.
  15. Read out loud screenplay 2 from projector.
  16. Read out loud screenplay 3 from projector.
  17. Read out loud screenplay 4 from projector.

Screenplays

ScreenPlay 1: Hole

INT. THE HOLE - DAY

Darkness.

J
What are you doing?

K
Holding out my hands, trying to imagine that they’re very far away from me. Like my arms are 10 feet long.

J
Does it work?

K Try it.

Silence.

J
What do you think we look like? Did we get grey hair?

K
Does it matter?

J
I think I can feel a wrinkle running down my left cheek. Did I always have that—do you remember?

K
My arms are getting longer.

J
Do you remember this wrinkle?

Silence.

J
What are you doing now?

K
I’ve stopped reaching. There’s nothing there. My feet—What do your feet feel like?

J
Feet.

K
Don’t they remind you of something?

J
I can’t remember.

K It doesn’t matter

Silence.

J
There’s a scar in my armpit too. I wish I could see it.

K
There’s some kind of knot in my brain.

J
Describe it for me. Help me to see it.

K
It’s like a cluster of time, a walnut of age.

J
Is it dirty? i.e. has it been made dirty by our duration here in the pit?

K
I …. don’t know that I know what dirt is. I’ve been stewing here for this long it’s like I was born in this broth of earth. Concepts lose their meaning when their opposites stop being felt.

J
Is that, like, particularly Hegelian of you to say?

K
Hegel is but a scar on my armpit.

J
[sighs] You’re right. I never did know how to quote Hegel successfully.

LONG SILENCE in which you hear nothing but breath, heartbeat.

J
Do you think love is just a long list of questions posed in the dulcet tones of being?

K
I want to touch you but I can’t know that I’m not just touching myself.

J
Aristophanes would have a field day.

K
Quit drudging up the old elements of your dead education.

J
Dead, dead, doubly dead; because not only man but history has ended.

Silence.

J
I don’t mean that.

K
Maybe you don’t, but you just said it.

J
I did. I said it and I don’t mean it. So…Do what you will with that.

K
I see. At least reach out to me.

J
I am reaching now. Do you see me here? I’m really reaching.

K
No, I don’t see. But we’ve been over that. Reach, please, reach!

J
Like I told you, I am reaching. I’m really stretching now. Listen to the strain in my voice.

K
Yes, I hear it. You really are reaching. Yes, I love. Is that reach your love, or my love?

ScreenPlay 2: Last night, In the doorway

Last night. In the doorway. A porch light buzzed. Kitchen linoleum curled up under the entrance mat. He stood with one arm on the door, still in his apron. She was outside. Mosquito bites on her leg.

He asks her when he will see her again. HIM: Get home safe. He undoes the apron knot with both hands, and it falls away from his body. He lifts it up, over his head.

The kitchen light glows around his body. HER: I’ll call tomorrow. She tells him he has never looked better.

But he has. The arms at his sides are soaked and steaming. HIM: I hear you.

Flight is all around them. Moths and bats fly together. He looks at the ground and begins to watch it insistently. HER: And?

She watches his watching eyes. Her hand finds the counter. Her hand finds the apron. Her hand drags it off the counter and it slinks to the floor. HIM: And…There have been nights like this before. And before we lived past them.

He starts, jerking his head from its perch. HER: That is a nothing thing to say. Say something that’s a thing.

He takes out a cigarette. Then, remembering a scene from an old movie he caught on his grandma’s TV when he was too young, he takes out another. Her eyes follow his fingers as he brings both cigarettes to his mouth, lights them, and pass one to her. Charmed, HER: Where did you get that from?

Smirk. HIM: The corner store. You had to ask?

They inhale, then inhale. In unison, two breaths of smoke meet as one. He tells her about his grandma, how she would talk to him endlessly about Bette Davis on those afternoons.

The radio plays a song, not by Bette Davis but about Bette Davis, as though proximity was the nuance of love:

She’ll take a tumble on you
Roll you like you were dice
Until you come out blue
She’s got Bette Davis eyes

The nothing things woollen around them, like some mongrel crossbreed of bereavement and lust. Night extends its monstrous proboscis as though to defy them to be swallowed up. The love around them fumes with tenderness and exploration. Yet no adoration is not touched by some glint of resentment. So it goes in this blue-eyed universe for those together.

ScreenPlay 3: Marcel

MARCEL. It’s-----hits introversion! And typically like terrific I ***** wanna ***************

DUCHESNE. Can you EVEN without ????? And still wherever soddenly slatternly bedouin and traversing too

ANIL. Tra(((())))vel BORES me like free bingo in +your+ grandma’s SMOCK

DUTY. I cud simply SSMAKK him uPside the hed onist ortho dontist ~ drear fuck WITH me

INFAMY. ^Boolean^^ carrot stick thin N like how-quik-to-get-comfie-AND-make-tea-widdhim rhythm?

AIMEE. cue&&the&&&&&&Muzak duh like it’s time to SMELL something OUTSIDE of ontology for LIKE ONCE

PQ. I.n.n.o.c.e.n.c.e massshine $$$$$heeeeeett s 2 th’ Wind m’Lord

OLGA. W%hen is MArSEL going to c@m back @nstage all red die !!!!!!

LOVE IS A DIPTHONG.

PQ. Freeeend m’Lady GuRRRRL m’Lad GIRL. GIRLLLLL

ANIL. Get OUTTA here. GTFOMGspotify. R u a travel agent? R u obsolete?

AIMEE. Creative Destruction! De-construct…!

OLGA. Imma Instagrataneously combust!

<<BOOM>>

DUTY. trad micdawn reddin redgrip froggin groggrip

INFAMY. IF YOU SAW if you knew if...you...only...could

OLGA. Imma olstraphontosy! @U Maya Deren!! Egg out rocktxxxx

ANIL. Clark got trodden. Clark really got TRODENNNN!

[a figurine. small]

AIMEE. Run you @in creatives. Run on ******* ikee ***** it was always the FIRST tribunal.

MARCEL. >>>not>>>>alive>>>>>anyways.

OLGA. EEoo. OOee. Nike jump! And dive. The luck out of here!!

DUTY. jumpp tracct cclleanen makinn drumm

MARCEL. ****** Totally spun and ***** bring it bring it bring it

ANIL. I need hot ((((((( ))))))). Someone send -it-

<<<<REVERSING>>>>

ALL: {{,,, SWAYING }}

OLGA. Krinkle POPsin sign. Like lasteLAST CORNuCOPIA ..::

INFAMY: BLO$$$wnout

MARCEL. *** Shit.

ScreenPlay 4: Scripto

INT. Night. A hotel room, dingy with the overhead light on. Lodger stands by the doorway, looking down at Carpet.

CARPET: There is no nonsense in this present.

LODGER: I understand and I comply.

CARPET: First, dry off your feet. Put on some socks.

LODGER: Ok. Do you have a towel I could borrow?

CARPET: No, Richie took the last one.

Simone enters through the window. She is carrying a hammer.

SIMONE: I know you took them, Carpet!

CARPET: Took what? And how do you know?

LODGER: I do not know you. Is that my name you have there?

SIMONE: This? Is this yours? You can have it back later.

During this time, the light has grown continually dimmer. Now it begins to sputter and make noises slopping noises.

SIMONE: I thought you said you fixed the light?

LODGER: I tried to fix it, in a way. But something else came unscrewed.

SIMONE: This lodger is lower than all hell.

CARPET: The bullet dodged shall henceforth front a mane.

LODGER: OK, give me the lowdown on this situation.

SIMONE: Noises, slopping noises.

CARPET: A note to dear self quit speaking in simply indiscernible tongues.

Crosscut to cabin door, with vaguely the same colour scheme as hotel room. The cabin is visibly disturbed by this resemblance. The skinned faces of LODGER and SIMONE are pinned to the door.

CARPET: As it goes all birds become a burden

LODGER: What did you do?

SIMONE: I brought you home. This is me.

CABIN: I have to ask you two to leave. This is trespassing. This is too much. This is hurting me.

The lights, which have been, until now, slowly flashing red, stop and spotlight on the CABIN.

CABIN: How did it end up like this? Richie left a sequin dress and spun a fable out of farts. I huffed and puffed and wound up messed. I’d like to scream. I’d like to—

SIMONE: Won’t you shut up.

PERCY folds out of a tree. He picks bark from his sleeves. He is carrying a green apple. He walks up to the door and unpins Simone’s face. Her skin flutter to the ground and is raked up by the passing groundskeeper.

EXT. Day. Landfill.

Simone’s face sits atop a hill of trash. An old timey music box plays the first notes of a jingle, EFAC—EFAC—EFAC—EFAC—EFAC… (and so on and so on)

SIMONE: WON’T YOU SHUT UP!

There’s no one to respond to her. Simone notices a lonely bird, lost from the flock, circling the dump in desperate confusion.

SIMONE: HEY! HEY! Take that thing away from me! Or take these ears away from me!

In the distance, a breeze comes closer and closer until it’s just above the garbage heap. Imperceptible those lower tier occupants, it nonetheless signals to the wayward bird a hopeful presence.