Movie treatment:
North by Southwest by Way of Queens
By David Benjamin
(Opening scene, the Oak Room of a luxury New York hotel)
Ad exec Roger Thornhill [played, ideally, by George Clooney but Matt
Damon would be OK] phones his mom. Afterwards, he’s intercepted by
suited thugs. Dragged into an unmarked Crown Victoria, spirited away.
(Next, in the car)
One of the thugs calls him “Kaplan.” Before he can object, door jerked
open. Suited thugs, ID’ing selves as Brooklyn DA’s officers, take
custody, pre-empting jurisdiction of first thugs, who turn out to be
NYPD.
(Next car) THUG: “OK, Kaplan, you scumbag, we’ve
been tracking you for a long time.” CLOONEY: “But I’m not — ” Car
screeches to halt, cut off by black van. Thugs in FBI vests swarm car,
yank Clooney into van, drive away. Brooklyn thugs stand in street,
cursing, shaking fists.
(Next, a mansion in the Hamptons) A
suave villain [Is Anthony Hopkins too old?] says, “We’ve finally got
you, George Kaplan.” Clooney tries to correct error, but a team of
suited thugs barges in. THUG (to suave villain): “This’ll teach you to stay off CIA turf, Vandamm!” CLOONEY: “FBI? CIA? What on earth?” THUG: “Shut up, Kaplan.” CLOONEY: “I’m not Kaplan!” CIA thugs drag him away.
(A musty basement in Queens)
Clooney strapped to a steel table. CIA thugs surround him, one with a
dental drill, one gripping Clooney’s toenail with a pliers, one with a
red-hot poker. “Spill your guts, Kaplan. Now!” Clooney insists he’s not
Kaplan, notes that torture violates American ideals and human decency.
CIA THUG: “You’re lucky we got you first, Kaplan. Rummy’s Raiders
are on your trail. If they ever get hold of you…” CLOONEY: “Rummy’s
Raiders?” CIA THUG: “The Defense Clandestine Service, dumbass. Those
guys are mean. First thing, they take a melon-baller and — ” Suddenly, a
flash grenade. Deafening, blinding blast. The thug mouths his last
words: “Rummy’s Raiders.” (Fade out)
(A sweltering, windowless room in Guantánamo Bay)
Clooney awakes naked, hanging from ceiling, by thumbs. Suited DOD thug
is revving a chain saw. DOD THUG: “Which limb should I trim first,
Kaplan?” CLOONEY: “I’m NOT Kaplan! THUG: “Keep sayin’ that, Kaplan. I’ll
enjoy this even more.” CLOONEY: “Somebody! HELP!” Suddenly, a steel
door slams open. Then another. From each, a swarm of suited thugs. One
says, “We’ve heard every word, Frobisher!” CLOONEY: “Frobisher? Who the
hell is Frobisher?” “That would be me,” says DOD thug, dropping chain
saw as the two teams of intruders confront each other. One says: “This
is an NSC op, Carmody!” His opposite: “Oh no you don’t, Abernathy! For
fourteen months, we’ve had eyes on you. And these DOD idiots. And even
this loser, Kaplan.” CLOONEY: “I’m NOT Kaplan.” Nobody listens. Instead,
NSC thug whips out envelope, spilling photos on floor. NSC THUG: “Eyes,
Abernathy? Eyes? Well, feast your lyin’ eyes on these!” (Zoom in) An
array of Abu Ghraib-style photos featuring NSA agents. Instead of Iraqi
prisoners, they’re “abusing” golden retriever puppies. While NSA and
NSC thugs begin to bicker over the crudely doctored photos, a shadowy
form slips into room, cuts down Clooney, carries him off.
(A sterile white room in Washington D.C.) Clooney, in hospital gown, sits at table, facing a severe (but beautiful) woman in a suit [Angelina Jolie?].
“You’re safe now, Kaplan,” she says. “But we need to debrief you before
our rival agencies figure out where you are.” Clooney, about to assert
that he’s not George Kaplan, says, instead, “Who the hell are you?
Homeland Security?” The woman smiles. “Good guess, Kaplan.” CLOONEY:
“Goddammit, I’m NOT — ” Door opens. Man’s voice: “Lola?” Lola leaves. A
moment later, enter Mark Harmon. He handcuffs Clooney, shoves hypodermic needle into his carotid. GIBBS: “Don’t say a word, Kaplan.” Clooney passes out.
(A spy ship, disguised as fishing boat, somewhere in the Atlantic) Clooney awakes on a bunk, surrounded by Gibbs, DiNozzo, McGee and Ziva.
CLOONEY: “Ziva, I thought you left the show.” ZIVA: “Zip it, Kaplan,
you scumbag.” Clooney opens his mouth to speak, gets drowned out by roar
of helicopters and amplified voice: “This is the Coast Guard
Investigative Service. You know Kaplan belongs to us, Jethro!” Suddenly,
a wave of armed thugs wearing life jackets and bell-bottoms. First one
in cracks Clooney’s head with a gun butt.
(A life raft rocking in the ocean) Clooney
awakes, discovers that he’s alone with a man in an impeccable Armani
suit. Raft’s floor covered with $100 bills. ARMANI: (studying a bill): “This is nice work. But you can’t fool the Secret Service, Kaplan.” CLOONEY (sighing): “There is
no Kaplan.” Armani’s derisive laughter is silenced by scuba diver, who
bursts from the sea. Skyhook drops. Hooked up in seconds, Clooney
ascends breathtakingly, into the bowels of a copter.
(A safe house, deep in the Bitterroots) Clooney, trussed in a rustic chair beside a crackling, cozy fireplace, awakens. The woman is gorgeous [can we get Scarlett Johansson?]. She unties Clooney, sensuously. GORGEOUS (pouring cognac, seductively): “All you have to do is tell me all you know. And then (a long, wet, moan-inducing kiss), I’m all yours, Georgie. Head to toe.” Clooney sighs heartbreakingly. “Lady, suddenly I wish I was Kaplan, but…”
(Still in the cabin) Clooney interrupted — by Tom Cruise —
crashing through window. An explosion of broken glass and flying snow.
Cruise and Scarlett, face-to-face, smolderingly. CRUISE: “I don’t know
you. What are you, dollface? CIA, ATF, DEA, DHS, DIS, NIS, Army Intel,
Navy Seals?…” SCARLETT: “Chill, sweet-cheeks. None of those. You
remember that no-name outfit, tried to kill Will Smith and Gene Hackman
in Enemy of the State?” CRUISE: “Really? I thought they were make-believe. Just for the movies.” SCARLETT: “You mean, like… the Mission Impossible Team, ace?” CRUISE (smiles, knowingly): “Yeah, I guess it’s all make-believe. Right, baby?” They kiss hungrily, begin undressing each other.
(Outside the cabin) Clooney, on tiptoes, closes door, looks around. CLOONEY: “There must be someplace I can catch the train.”
Friday, April 25, 2014
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
No comments:
Post a Comment