Screenwriting Brin.Stavonor

Sabrina Stavonor ‘11

ENGL 24 – Screenwriting

Treatment #1 – Call at Corazón

The story opens in downtown New York City, in the winter of 1987. In an Alphabet City pet shop, there stands a man and woman, a couple, near the birdcages facing the store’s window. The couple is fairly young and attractive; they are engaged in a quiet disagreement over the man’s intentions towards a certain talking parrot. The woman is incensed at the man’s desire for another specimen, some new thing for him to analyze. As the woman concedes and allows the purchase the two leave the store and enter the masses in the street.

Storekeepers, street venders, and lunch trucks peddle their wares as the couple pass by now with the man carrying the parrot in small, wooden cage. The argument in the shop has carried over into the streets as the make their way home, into their building and to their small walkup apartment. There is a “Just Married” banner along with a few unopened wedding gifts and a small collection of old, battered, but neatly packed suitcases in the corner of the tiny living room.

The man places the cage in the corner of the room near the old luggage as the woman removes her jacket as she turns a corner and enters their bedroom; the man readies himself to exit the apartment, muttering about blowing off steam.  Reentering the street, the man pulls his coat tighter and rewraps his scarf in the face of the blistering cold and wind. At the end of the block and around the corner, there was a small park littered with swing sets, chess tables, and vacant benches.

As the man enters the park’s gate, a pair of children seemingly encased in protective winter gear brush by and run out into the snow-covered street. The man walks to his regular seat on a bench near a frozen fountain in the center of the park, reaches into his coat’s inner pocket and retrieves a small leather notebook and pen. Opening the book, the man turns to an unfinished passage and begins to recount the events of his day. “Section 5: The Woman’s preoccupation with order…”As he writes he sets about analyzing his wife’s behavior one each successive line.  The two children who had left park earlier now run past with cups of steaming hot chocolate. As they pass by for a second time, their chocolate manages to escapes their cups and splash the man just as he completes his entry. Smiling and unfazed, he replaces the book and pen in his jacket pocket and stands to leave.

Back in the apartment the woman is waiting, stoically perched on a small love seat swirling a chipped tumbler of dark alcohol. The man sees her as he opens the door and wordlessly begins to move the suitcases out into the hallway, preparing to take them down to street. The woman says and does nothing as she rakes her eyes over him and sips from the glass. As he returns to the apartment, the man walks over to the woman and places his hands on her shoulders, leaning down to kiss her. Just as she  turns her face to him, the bird parrots back part of their earlier argument “…a pedantic self consciousness infringing on my happiness..” The bird’s chirping trails off as they break apart and start to leave.

The two are now on a plane and the woman is grasping tightly at the armrests and has trained her eyes straight ahead, so as to avoid the grey churning clouds outside the window. As a flight attendant passes by, the woman asks for a few drinks. Carefully waiting until the stewardess is out of listening range, the man clinically chastises the woman’s drinking and lack of mental fortitude.  “You’re giving into a passing emotional state. Take a nap or read one of the magazines. “The woman responds in kind, calling his analysis of her nothing more than uninspired and pseudo-philosophical. “Don’t you dare analyze me. You’re not a famed psychologist, just a failed attempt.” Just then the fight attendant returns with the woman’s drinks and a glass filled with ice. Before the attendant has much room to move, the woman opens both bottles and hands them off, downing her drinks in quick succession.

“Who’s taking care of the bird?” the man later asks from his seat. That’s not my job. He’s your pet and you let it ruined what little furniture we had.” The woman recounts the birds attempts to rip the stuffing out of a pillow on the couch in their little apartment and his staining of more that a few of the open wedding gifts in the bedroom.  During its brief escape, which coincided with the man’s stroll to the park, the bird had damaged the few useful gifts that the couple had been given, including a new leather bound pad which the woman had planned to give to the man on their trip. The man tries to analyze the birds actions in human terms, but the woman has had enough and angrily storms off towards the bathroom.

The landing is a bit turbulent, but nothing but a bit of excess jostling and bumps. The great throng of passengers blocks the aisles as they remove their belongings from underneath seats and overhead bins. The couple makes their way off the plane and into the bustling airport with their old, beaten luggage and walk towards the exit nearest to them. The man has placed the suitcases in a little pile that woman sits on as they wait for a taxi. The woman tries to make friendly conversation, glossing over their fight and attempting to reconcile. The man takes notice but does not directly answer instead bringing the conversation back to the bird. “I’ll get rid of it when we get home. If that’s what you want….I’ll tell Charlie he can keep it. “ The woman agrees just as a checkered yellow cab pulls up to them.

The couple is exits the cab outside of a seedy looking, but fully inhabited hotel. The woman, who was smiling after their brief reconciliation, sees the hotel and her face drops. The Corazón, which has  its name emblazoned in lights above the hotel’s small and dirty marquee. Many of the lights have gone out in each of the letters spelling the hotel’s name. The marquee its self is dingy and dust covered, with the plated metal on the signs back board pealing and rusting in some places. She looks at the man, who is busy removing their luggage from the taxi’s trunk, with disgust. The man finally looks up once all the luggage has been removed and smiles at the sight of the hotel. “Well this looks to be an adventure,” he remarks in passing as he beings to carry the bags inside.

The woman walks into the hotel behind the man and inspects the peeling wallpaper and dirty carpet as the couple walk up to the check in desk. The attendant sits behind a glass divider with the radio playing faintly as he reads from a folded newspaper. Upon noticing the couple, he puts the paper down and opens up the guest ledger for them to sign themselves in. The man greets the attendant, takes the book, signing and returning it through the break in the partition. The attendant waits there and the man realizes that he is to pay upfront. He reaches into his coat and retrieves his wallet, handing the attendant a few bills. The woman takes the key from the attendant, their fingers touching, and asks for directions to their room. The attendant smiles broadly at the woman, gives her overly detailed directions, smiles again and goes back to his folded newspaper, glancing back up at the woman as she walks away. She and the man take the unstable looking elevator up to the fifth floor. The man walks in front carrying the bags, counting off the room numbers as he goes. “501, 503, ah…505.”

The woman comes to the front and opens the door. As the man walks in she switches on the lights, but her facial expressions display her continuing lack of enthusiasm for their current lodging situation. The man, who has noticed her discomfort and is trying to draw her out into conversation, places the bags on the bed, beginning to unpack them. “Well what do you want to do first? I think we should just hang around the hotel for the night and then go for a bit of sight seeing tomorrow. How about the Capital or The Mall first thing in the morning?” The woman halfheartedly replies, her mumbled yes barely audible.

As the man places a few shirts and pants into a drawer, the woman sits idle in a soiled armchair.  She glances around the room again and notices a small, rather beaten bar cart in the corner. Removing her coat, she leaves it in the chair and walks across the room towards the wet bar. The man, who has just finished his unpacking, notices where she is going. “Really? Haven’t you had enough today?” The woman glances back and scowls, but says nothing. “Well we could at least go down to the bar and be social. There are lots of people in the hotel tonight.”

“I don’t even want to look at you right now. You go,” the woman replies, pouring herself a drink from one of the nearly empty bottles. The woman downs the drink and pours herself another, looking out the window and into the busy streets below. She notices a bug and in her slightly buzzed state steps on it shakily, but has further reaction. “You never feel like anything, “the man retorts, “except for boozing yourself to sleep.” The woman turns and throws the glass at him missing by only a hair. The man comments rather dryly that if she weren’t as drunk already she might have made her target.

With that another argument has broken out. The man rails about her drinking and lack of interest in his writing and in the “real world” and the woman about the man and his disinterest in anything but his book and his condescending behavior. “Everything must be an adventure all the time. That’s why we live in that hovel instead of some place respectable! That’s why we’re here instead of spending our honeymoon somewhere special, Paris maybe. Always the overeducated, overblown rich boy trying to play poor! It’d not ennobling, sweetheart, just desperate.” The man retorts “Well, forgive me Princess if I would like to study the things around…if I prefer to live like real person rather than some wealthy, drunken idiot.”  At that the man storms out of the room and makes his way down the stairs to the fist floor. As he descends, he calms slightly, walking more slowly and breathing at a normal pace.

As the man sees the entrance to the bar, he steadies himself and walks through the doors. There are a good number of people there, some playing cards, some watching the rather off key and of tempo lounge singer, and other just enjoying their drinks. The man walks up to the group playing cards at a round table near the back and asks to join. Over the next few hours the man enjoys himself, playing cards, drinking and getting know the varied people at the table. As the man looks up at a clock hung over the bar’s entrance, the man notice the lat hour and makes his goodbyes to those still left at the table.

The man walks back up the stairs, shakily from all the alcohol, but manages to conduct himself well. Walking up to the door he knocks, expecting his wife to have locked it, but his gentle rapping has pushed the door back and it swings open. The man looks at the bed and finding it empty, he scans the room for the woman. Walking over to the small bathroom, he turns on the light and finds it empty as well. “She’s probably out walking it off,” the man comments to no one. He settles down on the bed and begins to undress, removing his sweater, shirt, and shoes. As he lays back, re reaches over to the other side of the bed, but does not find his wife.

Later the man tosses and turns, unable to sleep well. He is hugging one of the pillows from the other side of the bed. He wakes slowly from his restless sleep and looks around the room to find his wife still gone. As he lays back down his thoughts turn to more pleasant days with her. Their first meeting in a hallway back in college; the two bumping into each other and dropping all their books and papers on the way to class. He thoughts then shift to their first date, a cheap dinner of burgers and fries in his expensive convertible, parked at the top of hill. The man stares at the wall opposite the bed for the rest of the night.

As the sun moves across his face the man wakes again to find his room still empty. He crawls out of bed and into the bathroom. He winces at the bright overhead lights and wobbles a bit on his feet, obviously a bit hung over. The man showers and dresses for the day. As he leaves the room he notices the door to the room across from his is ajar and thinks he hears his wife’s voice, but shakes his head at the thought. He walks past, and sees a cascade of blonde hair out of the corner of his eye. Pushing the door open he finds his wife in bed, her head hanging over the foot of it. Tangled up in the sheets, she is not alone. The desk clerk is beside her, propped up against the headboard of the bed. As the man back out of the room, the woman begins to come to and reaches her hand out for him as he closes the door.

The woman’s calls to him are faint as the man walks back into his room and collects his belongs from the closet and drawers. he leaves his wife’s clothing, jewelry, and toiletries where they lay and leaves the room with just his suitcase. The man walks calmly down to the lobby, exits the hotel and hails himself a cab. He gets in and the cab pulls off, just as the woman is exits the hotel, crosses her arms, and stares after him.

The main is on a train platform back in New York. Grand Central is a bustling loud mass of people and their belongings. As the man’s train pulls up he looks through the windows and across the tracks to see the woman. She has spotted him as well. Neither say nor do anything as they board their trains and each train leaves the station in separate directions.