An Excerpt from the Spec Feature Script

FADE IN

EXT. LURID, RED DREAMSCAPE

ADULT MALE, BARE FEET RUN SLOWLY, THICKLY through a prickly nightmare, which ABRUPTLY SPEEDS UP.

CAMPBELL RADETZKY frenetically carries and runs with two apparently biracial CHILDREN (LIZ, 12 and RAY, 6). Campbell's terrified, soaked wet with sweat, tired but proceeding over and through nightmarish obstacles.

He clutches the children to him and they look too tired to care to be scared. They're nearly ragdolls from exhaustion.

                            WIN (O.S.)

            Campbell?

His footsteps slow until an OILY DARK SHADOW oozes swiftly after them. It has substance, a core, as if it were a person--a woman; its SOUND is eerie, as eerie as a banshee's over tearing metal.

                            WIN (O.S.)

            It takes two to make a

            seduction ... and two to

            make true love magic work.

            You're problem....

Campbell redoubles his PANTING steps, his HEARTBEAT pounding out of control, as he runs through a FOREST OF RED TREES, which seem to protect them, until they close in and he realizes with horror that both children are gone from his arms.

                            WIN (O.S.)

            Campbell?

He runs more frantically as the Oily Shadow Woman SCRATCHES at him, PULLS at him, TRIPS him. He gets some distance and enters a CLEARING with TURBULENT SKY AND CLOUDS above, RED RAIN FALLS, STAINING HIM like blood. APPROACHING SOUND of the Oily Shadow Woman forces him across the wide expanse.

                            WIN (O.S.)

            Bell?!

A lone tree is before him and he HEARS HIS CHILDREN and runs to the tree, which ABRUPTLY HE SPEEDS TO AS IF YANKED TO IT and finds his kids wound within WRITHING BRANCHES, which are SNAKES NOT WOOD--and he reacts.

The kids are held out of his reach by what is no longer a tree but a RED MEDUSA WOMAN, who is terrifying, yet beautiful.

Campbell tiredly acquiesces and collapses to his knees at the PLANTED FEET of the Red Medusa; but, before he can touch it, the Oily Shadow Woman overruns him and DEVOURS HIM, HIS BLOOD SPLATTERS THEN RUNS FROM OUT OF THE BLACK OIL.

INT. CAMPBELL RADETZKY SLEEPS - NIGHT

He writhes and turns in bed in emotional, mental pain but does not wake. Then he settles, a RED HANDPRINT ON HIS ARM and a RED DOG LOOKING BITE AT HIS THROAT are apparent. He swallows with difficulty, MOANS in pain, yet still does not wake.

The MARKS RECEDE but REMAIN. HIS EYELIDS indicate intense REM dreams,...

INT. STUDIO, CAMPBELL'S LOFT - DREAM, DAY

He's dreaming in low contrast, muted tones of HIS HANDS STAPLING WOOD FRAME BOARDS together, stretching and stapling new CANVAS taut over the large rectangular frame. Of spreading plaster white GESSO onto the fabric for a base.

Of painting in 2D: muted gold, muted brown, and a muted red.

                            WIN (O.S.)

            Campbell?

He pauses his activity...touching the WOMAN'S BROWN, PAINTED HAND, which TOUCHES him back, and EVERYTHING SHIFTS FROM 2D INTO 3D then 4D. The COLORS NOW SCINTILLATINGLY BRILLIANT, and...

                            WIN (O.S.)

            Bell?!

...REAL fabric that he slides off her caressably real skin; and red--Yes, China red lips, that he fervently kisses. And, truly startlingly bright ey-.

                            CAMPBELL (O.S.)

            Ow!

INT. MUSICIANS' ENTRANCE - EVENING

"WIN" WINFIELD'S pinch leaves a welt on Campbell's tan skin.

                            WIN

            Campbell?

                            CAMPBELL

            Yeah?!

INSERT

MARQUEE: "20TH YEAR SCHOLARSHIP FUND TRIBUTE TO SENATOR ALOYSIUS SISTRUNK (with accompanying PHOTO OF SISTRUNK--late 50s, African American); PALACE AND STATE THEATRES, CORPORATE SPONSORS: CORD INTERNATIONAL OF CLEVELAND, OHIO"; etc.

RESUME - INT. MUSICIANS' ENTRANCE, HALLWAY,  BANDSTAND - SAME

1.                             WIN

            You weren't listening. You 

            had that eerie kinda gone 

            look you used to get after 

            Rone and Uncle Miles-. Not

            quite here, not quite there

            -- wherever there could be.

Around them, TUXEDOED and BLACK EVENING GOWNED MUSICIANS ENTER with INSTRUMENT CASES as    STAGEHANDS offload MUSICAL EQUIPMENT INTO THE CLUTTERED HALLWAY, and then to the bandstand.

                            CAMPBELL

            I'm right here. Where else

            could I be?

Win stares a knowing moment at Campbell, who's fidgeting, juiced with too much energy, as always. Win's own naturally auburn hair, brows, and lashes, slightly incongruent against his medium brown skin, observes Bell.

[EDIT]

                            WIN (continues)

            Then, three in the morning,

            you phone and wake me, 

            the wife, and kids to ask--

            by the way, my crumb-grabbers want to know when your

            crumbgrabbers get back?

                    (beat)

            Where was I ... oh, three in

            the morning -- insomniacs

            should never call those of

            us who can sleep at three

            in the morning, begging me

            to get you in here. You're

            in. I know you, Bell.

            There's something, no...

Win stares knowingly at Campbell, who's suspiciously still.

                            WIN (continues)

            ...someone here you're

            overly energetic ass is

            looking for.

[EDIT]

Win looks around.

                            WIN (continues)

            Speaking of good witches

            and wicked witches from

            all directions....

            Are you really sure it's not

            here, too?

                            CAMPBELL

            Yes. I didn't tell "it"-Fran. I

            haven't seen or talked to

            her in weeks.

            I keep telling you, I'm not

            with her anymore.

                            WIN

            Sure, Backslider.

[EDIT]

            What I don't get is...

                (shudders)

            F-F-Fran's supposedly

            Thea's new friend. Meets

            you. Next thing it seems,

            slender Thea, who could

            never put on a pound since

           when we were kids, is

            suddenly the size of a

            Macy balloon, staying at

            my house, divorcing your

            ass.

[EDIT]

He playfully pinches Campbell hard before leaving.

                            CAMPBELL

            Ow!

INT. PALACE THEATRE grand LOBBY - ONE HOUR LATER

RONE (late teens, African American, collegiately clean-cut) looks down at the mostly BLACK SOCIALITES, MINISTERS, and POLITICIANS below, who schmooze, sparkle, and traipse up and down the TWO FACING "Gone With the Wind"-style STAIRCASES.

Rone spots...

Campbell giving a huge appreciative smile for TWO BLONDE-COIFED AFRICAN AMERICAN WOMEN as he watches them strut by ... a little slower, just for him.

When Campbell turns....

                            CAMPBELL   (continues)

            Fran. I'm firing security

            here.

Model tall and slim, FRAN SERPENTINI shifts her eyes from the women to him, with a look that could break stones, yet doesn't flaw her younger, blonde, Italian Renaissance features.

                            CAMPBELL (continues)

            Start a fight and you're on

            your own. By the way, since

            I didn't bring you, and since

            we're not ... whatever the

            hell it was that we were,

            don't get huffy when I

            ignore you.

                            FRAN

            You hate all this. Rubbing

            elbows with the Senator

           and his billionaire mentor

            ...with the obviously "not

            my wife" golden goddess

            draped on his arm. And,

            you're in a tie? And, all

             alone? Was Cynthia The

            Slut overbooked and on her

            knees somewhere?

Campbell's pissed but he doesn't answer her goading.

Midway up one of the staircases, rubberfaced SENATOR SISTRUNK, enjoying his perks, while shaking a PLUMP WOMAN's soft hand so hard, her ill-fitted, styleless dress slips down her shoulder.

The Senator completely focuses on sliding the fabric back into place-. He makes a guilty side glance at his benefactor, TERENCE CORD (mid 40s, African Am. All-American).

Cord tiredly eyes the Senator, as he whispers into the nodding ear of his well-shaped bronze skinned companion in SHIMMERING GOLD. Her bare back is to Campbell, she's speaking to the capable and husky SHELDON (African Am.), the HOUSE MANAGER, with his WALKY-TALKY.

Cord's date stretches, already fatigued with this whole affair. She has all the elements of Campbell's dream: gold fabric, flawless brown skin, red lips, and dark eyes. She immediately spots Campbell and reacts--with dread, then attempts leaving, but Cord detains her.

Campbell, jostled by the crowd, glances back towards her and is transfixed by Rone, who stares him dead in the face, from beside her, until she abruptly disappears down into the crowd, with Rone in her wake.

Campbell rudely pushes towards the younger man, who blends with the Crowd, as Campbell hotly pursues him.

INT. STATE THEATRE HOUSE AND STAGE - MOMENTS LATER

The WASH OF A WORKLIGHT CARVES AN ILLUMINATED ISLAND OUT OF DEEP SHADOWS across the proscenium arch, orchestra pit, and box seats, as Rone stops and looks behind him. He takes a step and with it completed, HE VANISHES.

Campbell energetically bolts like an understudy late for his debut onto the city block deep, EMPTY stage, his quarry gone.

ANGLE

Campbell busts out in a self-deprecating laugh, that booms freely over Zoey's distant B.G. R&B ROMANTIC DANCE OLDIE--ETTA JAMES' "AT LAST", as he walks off his burst of energy.

He abruptly stops, where Rone had. Instinctively, he stares at one profound shadow, someone hidden against the fly wall.

MALOY D'AQUINO (African Am. / Spanish Am.), eventually, hesitantly steps out of the shadows, in her gold dress that clings as if Erté himself had designed it for her. The sight of her knocks him back, while she nervously worries her long gloves.

She takes sad, furtive glances of him, seemingly afraid to meet his gaze, as she continues to move glacially towards him. Or, more precisely, towards the exit.

Campbell half reaches for her, as if not certain she's real, and...she comes to him, as if magnetically attracted, before realizing she's done it.

Her considerable curves melt perfectly against his hard, athletic body. They slow dance. His hand enjoys the bare curve of her back, his nose the pleasant sent of her.

Neither notices the GLOW EXCHANGED FROM HIS PALM TO HER FLESH, which FLUORESCES IN IMPRESSIONISTS' COLORS that DISPERSE AND SOAK DEEP INTO HER SKIN, with a-.

                            MALOY

            (slight GASP)

Sheldon's WALKY-TALKY SQUAWKS, he's waiting for Maloy, who's hyper-distracted, as she starts and glances 'round. When she gazes back into Campbell's eyes, she obviously catches him emotionally unguarded. Herself, as well.

                            MALOY (continues)

            Oh, shit.

Before he can recoup, she's gone. He attempts following her, but, tremulously drained of energy, he stumbles and shakily flops on his butt to the stage floor.

He's smack in front of Rone, who's stooped down, IN MID-AIR, in the aisle observing him. Campbell doesn't see him.

[EDIT]

                            MALOY (continues)

            I've seen you. With him.

            With that wild, crazy boy.

            What're-?

Her small step closer SHIFTS HER INTO A FAST BLUR THROUGH THE GIRL-.

                            MALOY (continues)

            WHOA!

INT. MALOY'S PERSPECTIVE, FRAN'S BEDROOM - DREAM, SAME

Maloy zip streaks through a few times, like Detective Comics' "The Flash". She gets control. Almost. And takes an ungraceful spill stopping. But, "Mikey likes it" AND her ability to remain unseen by Fran, who's praying, gesturing over candles.

                            MALOY (continues)

            So, you did get him this

            way. Knew it.

Driver whines at Maloy, and slinks for the door.

                            FRAN

            Sit.

                            MALOY

            No thanks.

The dog sits, cowering, looking back at Fran, whose head is down, concentrating, as Maloy notices something bobbing about on the back of Fran's head, deeply entangled among the golden strands -- a dark curl of hair ... WRITHING.

Maloy looks closer at the WRITHING LOCK OF HAIR, which abruptly clarifies into a tiny manshaped -- CAMPBELL EFFIGY, which struggles, SCREAMS in terror, and grasps desperately for her.

INT. MALOY'S BEDROOM - next MORNING, PREdawn

Maloy wakes in darkness, shuddering.

                            MALOY (continues)

            Jeez!

Her breaths catch, as she calms herself, turns off the bedside CD PLAYER SOFTLY PLAYING ASIAN INDIAN, THEN SCOTTISH MUSI-.

                            MALOY (continues)

            Ow. Oh, jeez. Not again.

            Ow-ww. Damn.

She stumbles from her floor-bound FUTON to the bath.

INT. MALOY'S BATHROOM - SAME

She flicks on the LIGHT-Maloy's eyes are COMPLETELY CLOUDED OVER WHITE. She blinks at her image.

                            MALOY (continues)

            Great. The same old

            bullshit.

[EDIT]

INTERCUT - SAME

Campbell PAINTS.

Fran places the smoking bowl beside Campbell's photo. Scooting across the bed she removes a DARK CURLING LOCK OF HAIR hidden behind her HEADBOARD.

Campbell paints -- a woman, a darkhaired woman.

Fran [EDIT] dips her fingers in the bowl and flings small cascades of the YELLOW BROWN "solution" across the STAINED mattress. The liquid SMOKES A BIT THEN SOAKS IN, WITH A LITTLE SIZZLE.

She dips his hair in the solution, before squeezing it straight between her fingers of excess and winding the wet curl tightly round her index finger, then strokes it sensuously all over her naked skin.

She drapes Campbell's hair across his photo. PHONES.

Campbell paints -- darkhaired Maloy. PHONE RING.

ANGLE - MINUTES LATER

Campbell's on the phone; listening, painting, scowling.

                            CAMPBELL

            Fran, you're giving me a

            pain in the head for God's

            sake. Just tell me exactly

            what it's about.

She yanks a hair from her head and tightly winds one pale end around reinforcing the already blonde-bound brown lock.

                            CAMPBELL (continues)

            Damn it. What'd I just say?

He falls silent a long while, abruptly stopping, looking at his work, falling back a step, then another.

She draws his hair around and around in a little, doodling circle on the brown-stained mattress.

                            FRAN

            Say you change your mind,

            and come downtown with

            me tomorrow. Please?

He continues staring at his work, while stretching and rolling his neck around in a tight circle.

She stops the circling.

He stops rolling his neck and shrugs himself out of it; however, his voice is barely audible, resigned.

                            CAMPBELL

            All right. All right.

He quietly disconnects.

Fran kisses the lock, then resecures it to the headboard using her own golden strand. She dotingly slips it behind, into its hiding place where it swings side to side, out of sight.

And, Campbell, sickly displeased, plops down before his FRESH PAINTING of Maloy--her face partially smeared away--part of it obscured and overpainted with Fran's features and hair.

INSERT - EXT. RTA TRAIN, DOWNTOWN BOUND - DAY

The "Egyptian Business Man with Briefcase and Tie" GRAFFITI passes by the window as the RTA LIGHT RAIL TRAIN RATTLES under Eagle Street Bridge, then deep into the dark rail tunnel under Tower City's skyscraper.

INT. maloy's perspective, CAMPBELL'S NIGHTMARE - DREAM, NIGHT

A SMEARED, MOVING LIGHT STREAK with RED EAGLE FEATHER WINGS, stops, it's Maloy arriving in Fran's SKEWED DREAM HOUSE, taking another spill, when she stops and looks about....

                            MALOY

            Where the hell-?

A STREAM of SYNTHETIC MUD with SOMETHING MOVING IN IT, flowing past. She follows it upstream through the house to....

INT. FRAN'S SKEWED DREAM BEDROOM - DREAM

...Fran and a MORPHING 3D SILHOUETTE OF A MAN / WEREWOLF / DOG fucking in a soft MULTI-COLORED COCOON SAC, which spits out the unnatural mud substance, that flows into a maggoty mud Hell pit, of which Medieval artist H. BOSCH would be proud.

In it Campbell struggles slowly, trying not to ingest, or drown; failing to reach an edge. Parts of him stiffen, like the mud INTO CONCRETE, his skin becoming the same dead color.

Maloy compassionately reaches to him and her touch rejuvenates him immediately. Their hands clasp; but, a HUGE RED HAND snatches her very unwillingly away from him.

                            MALOY (continues)

            NO!!

INT. CAMPBELL'S loft - SAME NIGHT

                            CAMPBELL

            NO!!

Campbell's standing, asleep, eyes open, before the duo painting; a sleepwalker with body on automatic in one place and his active mind in another. Garbage's "Push It" PLAYS on his radio. He dismantles the painting's STAPLED PINE UNDERFRAME. The PIECES DROP, with FINGERPRINTS HOTLY SCORCHED into them.

                            CAMPBELL (continues)

            Maloy, where-? Oh, there

            you-.

His eyes close, a moment later, he jerks "awake" again--somnambulist "awake", then almost immediately he's in full REM, asleep on his feet, while WINDOW LIGHT BLINKS ACROSS HIS FACE.

INSERT - STUDIO/CORRIDOR/abyss, DREAM VOID

"Push It" THROBS, as part of his dream environment, luring, prodding, following Campbell, who STEPS THROUGH Maloy's gold painting, into a CORRIDOR edging an ABYSS ... where he totters.

Behind him -- is a GOLDENSKINNED FRAN, naked and seductive; but oddly artificial, HER VOICE A DOG'S, DISTORTED TO SOUND HUMANLIKE. Eyes wide open, Campbell turns from her to intentionally FALL INTO THE PITCH BLACK DEEP, as an EAGLE CRIES.

[EDIT]

RESUME SCENE

Campbell's still enwrapped in Maloy's arms, losing his concentration to her touch. Their SEPARATE HEARTBEATS BECOME ONE. HE'S SUDDENLY FACING HER, inside her, moving together in love.

INSERT - INT. MALOY'S BEDROOM - SAME TIME, NIGHT

Maloy lies on her stomach clutching her pillow, turned sideways under her head and chest. She rises up enough to shuck off her tee, then push back the covers to cool her skin, while never really waking. Immediately, she's back in REM sleep....

RESUME SCENE

...stroking her nose across Campbell's chest, inhaling the scent of him, kissing down his tensing stomach muscles-.

INSERT - FRAN - SAME

FRAN AWAKES -- uncertain suspicion wearing hard on her face.

RESUME SCENE - CAMPBELL, LOFT - SAME

SOUND--SMOKE DETECTOR

Campbell startles fully awake--and finds the new canvas in his hand ... ON FIRE.

                            CAMPBELL

            Ah. OW!!

[EDIT]

INT. HOSPITAL HALL - SAME

Campbell's about to dial again, until glimpsing Maloy entering the kid's room and follows her.

INT. KID'S HOSPITAL ROOM - SAME

                            CAMPBELL (continues)

            Hey.

Campbell OPENS THE DRAPES, letting in LOTS OF SUNLIGHT.

                            CAMPBELL (continues)

            They've always hated a

            dark room.

                            MALOY

            I was at a friend's, getting

            some things ... done, and

            knew I had to come to you.

            Almost didn't believe I

            could really pull it off.

He moves to hug her, but oddly stops, and "knows".

                            MALOY            

            I know Mick didn't; but,

            we're together, now.

                            CAMPBELL

            F-Fran?

He falls back, as Maloy REFORMS into Fran, who quickly pursues, pressing him to the wall, where she attempts touching his chest. He starts to move aside.

                            FRAN

            Don't.

He stops, uncomfortably, as she touches his chest, then slides her hand down, to pull up his shirt. Her hand touches his bare skin, and he reacts in pain, as her palm journeys back, stomach to heart.

                            FRAN (continues)

            Merely tagging what's

            mine. My, your heart's

            beating so fast. 

[end of excerpt]