Saturday 8 January 2011

Mongol Gallery Day One - Script

FADE IN:

INT. THE MONGOL GALLERY - DAY

PETER is taking tea with his friend ALARIC. Peter is thirty something, dressed in lazy fashion as if his clothes came from a catalogue. His hair is dark and his tan is natural. Alaric is around sixty dressed as a man of his age might if George Melly was his role model, but Alaric can't quite pull off the look.

Through the window, we can see Stoke Newington Church Street. It's a Sunday afternoon and there is little foot traffic but the buses and cars still travel. The sun is shining.

ALARIC

Oh, lovely tea Peter. What is it?

PETER

Tesco's own brand.

Peter turns toward the window.

PETER

What the fuck?

We follow Peter's gaze, through the window...


EXT: CHURCH STREET - DAY

...to show the almost empty street where DANIEL is running from a gang of skinheads. Daniel is wide eyed as if he's just stepped into his worst nightmare. He wears a torn business suit, no tie, no shirt, only the jacket and on his feet are a pair of training shoes. The skins are generic. There's something almost unfinished about them, as if we'd bought a bunch of skins from general casting.

Daniel tries the doors of several shops as he runs. None open until he reaches the Mongol Gallery. The door burst open and we.

FADE TO TITLES:

RUN TITLES

FADE TO:

INT. THE MONGOL GALLERY - DAY

Daniel has burst in through the door of the Gallery. Alaric stands to help him into a chair while Peter moves toward the door.
ALARIC

Come on, let's get a cuppa tea inside you. Peter, bar the door can't
you.

PETER

Too late.

We see a skinhead's hand slap against the glass door of the Gallery. The window does not break though and the hand dissolves into smears of paint that drip down the door. Daniel still appears terrified. Then, as the skinheads outside melt into pools of multicoloured mud that flow down along the pavement before dripping down the drain, so does Peter.

Alaric looks down at Daniel's hands. He takes hold of his wrist and lifts the hand to show to Peter.

ALARIC

Look at his hands.

The camera moves closer, focusing on Daniel's hands

CU. DANIEL'S HANDS

Daniel's hands are soft, banker's hands, writer's hands, hands that have never known hard physical work. They are stained with paint, mostly red but the rest of the rainbow is present.

ALARIC (continued)

Some kind of artist would you say? If it is, this is his first day.


PETER

He came to the right place then. I knew it would be a good idea to
have the studio and gallery together.

The camera pulls back to...

INT. THE MONGOL GALLERY - DAY

Peter puts his hand inside Daniel's pocket and draws out the stub of a Eurostar ticket, an American passport and a wallet full of plastic. Daniel stands unmoving, dribbling slightly.


PETER

His name's Daniel Jekyll. Hmm, got a press card and a pass to the
European Parliament. Don't think he's an artist.
Alaric waves three fingers in front of Daniel.

ALARIC

Daniel? Can you hear me Daniel?


Daniel nods.

PETER

Are you okay Daniel?


Daniel shakes his head. He still hasn't spoken. Alaric meets Peter's eye and frowns.

ALARIC

Daniel? What is wrong?


Daniel says nothing.

ALARIC

Daniel can you speak?


Daniel shakes his head.

ALARIC (seeming more alarmed than he ought)

I don't believe it.


Daniel rummages among the artists' materials on sale and opens a sketch pad, which he hands to Daniel along with a stick of artist's charcoal.

ALARIC

What happened Daniel?


Daniel hunches over the sketchpad and begins drawing furiously. The camera focuses on the paper and then seems to pass through to...





INT. BRUSSELS TO LONDON EXPRESS - DAY


Daniel is dressed in the suit we saw him in when we first saw him, although it is in somewhat better repair and he has a shirt and tie. He is still wearing training shoes though. He is clearly miserable. NICK de MUSCA walks down the aisle and sits himself down in the seat opposite Daniel's. It is not the only empty seat, in fact there are few other people in the carriage.

Nick de Musca is balding and overweight, looking like nothing so much as a travelling salesman or a down at heel American televangelist.


NICK de MUSCA

Mind if I sit here? Yeah I know, wicked question isn't it. I put you in a position where you'd be rude to object even though there are plenty of other places for me to sit.
(he offers his hand)
Nick de Musca.

DANIEL

Danny Jekyll

NICK de MUSCA

Any relation to Mr Hyde? No sorry, I'll bet you get this all the time don't you? Anyway Daniel Jekyll, what's eating you?


Daniel rolls his eyes but de Musca is insistent.

de MUSCA

Oh come on Danny Boy, you can tell me. I might even be able to help. It's been known to happen. I travel in inconsequentials you
know. I deal in solutions.


Daniel is not interested but de Musca makes a silly little boy pout.

de MUSCA

Oh please. Indulge me. Business trouble? Girl trouble? Been caught having sexual relations with a goat? (he grins) S'a joke, don't worry.
I'll bet it's a girl. You have the air of the lovelorn about you. Am I
right?


DANIEL (sighing)

Is it so obvious. I broke up with my girlfriend about seven hours ago

de MUSCA

And of course, she was the love of your life, without whom all is
pointless and all your colours grow grey? I was serious when I said I
dealt in solutions.


Daniel looks decidedly uncomfortable and opens his mouth to speak. de Musca reaches out to touch a fingertip to Daniel's lips.

de MUSCA

No Daniel, hear me out.


We see a look of shock in Daniel's eyes and his mouth closes and stays closed. We cut back to...

MCU. NICK de MUSCA (DANIEL'S POV)

de MUSCA

Like I said. I travel in inconsequentials. Don't worry, I don't mean
souls. I don't do souls any more. They're simply not that valuable.
Oh come on, don't tell me you never guessed Old Nick? Lord of the
Flies? Beelzebub? Oh well, guess you can't tell me can you? Not
unless I give you your voice back.


Daniel squirms, clearly struggling to speak.

de MUSCA

Oh come on, here's the deal. You've lost the love of your life and all
the colour has drained away. I've been following your career for some time. You have a way with words you know? That's rare on my side.
I guess because the other guy is the word and has been since the
beginning, we in Hell are left with images. And that's where we can
help each other. Give me your voice and I'll help you get that colour
back into your life.


FADE TO THE PICTURE DANIEL HAS DRAWN IN CHARCOAL
THE CAMERA PULLS BACK AND WE GO TO


INT. THE MONGOL GALLERY - DAY


Peter and Alaric look at the picture and then back at Daniel.

PETER

How the Hell can we get all that from a picture.

ALARIC

Magic. Pure and Simple.

PETER

You're taking this rather calmly. Magic? What next? Hermione
Grainger comes riding down church street on a broomstick?

ALARIC

I've seen things in my time Peter. I run a bookshop remember and we
sell a fair few occult books. This is Hackney after all. People want a
way out. Some of the grimoires in the back room are all too real. I
once exorcised a fifteen year old boy who had managed to get
possessed by an Aztec god.


Daniel is doing other sketches now. Almost absentmindedly, Peter hands him a set of artists pastilles. Daniel begins to produce coloured sketches.

PETER

Oh come on Alaric!

ALARIC

There are more things in Heaven and Earth, Horatio than are dreamed of in our philosophy. Surely you of all people should know that.

PETER

And what the fuck do you mean by that Alaric.

ALARIC

You know you hate it if I say it.


Peter glances down at the sketch that Daniel is working on. It shows Daniel and ANNA KERN in the Jubelpark in Brussels earlier that day.
FADE TO:

EXT. JUBELPARK - DAY


Daniel and Anna are sitting on a bench in the park. Other people walk by but it is rare for people to sit down at the benches. Their body language is that of a couple in love. They are turned one to the other as if excluding the rest of the world.

ANNA

I don't believe you will ever leave her.

DANIEL

We've spoken about this. Why do you think I'm here today. I'm
getting a transfer to Brussels so I can be near you. She's not coming.
It's you and me Anna. Us against the world.

ANNA (beginning to cry now)

I have to consider myself single now. This can't go on.

DANIEL (offering a tissue, wiping Anna's eyes)

Why are YOU crying. At the very least you could let me be the one
who cries when you rip out my heart.

ANNA

You are the one in charge, Daniel. You know that. It's always been
that way. I've been yours since it started. But if you don't use your
power, then it's gonna fade away. That much is obvious I would have
thought.

DANIEL

Then don't do this. Get down on your knees and apologise. Put your
head in my lap and tell me you'll never leave me.

ANNA

I want to Daniel. You know I want to but I can't.

DANIEL

Let's Walk.

Daniel stands and offers Anna his hand. She takes it and they walk into the park. She is still crying and her eyes and face blotchy with the misery of the moment. They've broken up and yet they are still holding hands.

ANNA

I need to be the one Daniel. You know that. If I could believe you,
I'd put my heart in your hands. I'd resign my seat in the European
Parliament and devote myself to being your loving slave. I can't
though. I just can't believe you.

DANIEL

Shit. And you're the one who's crying. It's cruel is what it is. You
break my heart into little pieces and stomp on the pieces and then I'm
the bad one. You should be a fucking politician.

ANNA

Maybe I'll email you in a day or two when I feel ready to answer all
your journalistic eloquence. Right now, I just feel so damned let
down.


Daniel stands close to Anna, well within her comfort zone. He takes hold of her shoulders and kisses her firmly on the lips. She responds, melting into his embrace. She is still crying.


FADE TO:

INT. THE MONGOL GALLERY - DAY

Peter seems to jump as if coming out of a trance. He is looking at Daniel's sketches.

PETER

Where was I? Whatever. How did they break up. They look like
they're in love.

ALARIC

Yeah, they do, don't they? I had a romance like that once. Beautiful
brown boy. We were both too stubborn to back down and admit we
weren't over.

PETER

All this magic is doing my head in.


Peter looks down at the sketch again. The world swims...


FADE TO:

INT. NOWHERE - NIGHT

Peter finds himself in an indistinct landscape with orange light shining through dry ice, like something from the stage show of an amateurish 1970s rock band. Nick de Musca is waiting for him.

de MUSCA

Goede Middag, Pieter, or perhaps Goeden Avond. Time doesn't
really matter much in this place.

PETER

Pardon?

de MUSCA

Oops, silly me, the Dutchman was your grandfather wasn't he? Not
you. You're just the owner of a crappy run down gallery selling fifth
rate paintings by third rate artists. Bums you out doesn't it.


Peter bunches his fists, moving as if to attack de Musca, but de Musca merely snaps his fingers and Peter finds his hands cuffed behind him.

de MUSCA

This is my place, Peter. Don't try to throw your weight around. I'm
not about to make you some kind of indecent proposal. That can wait until I need something from you.

PETER

You have nothing I need. There is no love of my life, and as you say,
my gallery is shit. You have nothing to say to me. Now, if you don't
mind, in the name of Jesus, release me.


de Musca scowls at that but he snaps his fingers and the manacles fade away.






de MUSCA

You can go, but I'll leave you something to think about. The thing is,
I do know what you want. What you need is a fame of your own, a
fame that works as well with your own name rather than having to
rely on your grandfather's notoriety.


FADE TO:

INT. THE MONGOL GALLERY - DAY

Peter's face is ashen.

ALARIC

Peter, you look like you've seen a ghost.

PETER

Worse than that.

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