SCENE: The BFI, South Bank, central London. Mid-evening. A
winter’s night, cold and crisp.
Crowds mill around the Royal Festival Hall foyer and the
many restaurants facing the area around Hungerford Bridge. At the main entrance to the BFI stands a
woman in her early 20s, dressed in entirely weather-inappropriate clothing, her
hair blowing in the wind.
She stands in front of a white board sporting several
corporate logos, and speaks into a microphone.
PRESENTER:
Waddup, MTV Bitches! I’m here on The Red Carpet, at London’s
Briddish Film Institute.
It’s the world’s premiere of MLE, the new Spy comedy from
Canadian-born writer, actor, director, Sarah Warren.
A man in a crumpled blue suit (THE PROTAGONIST) slips by
un-noticed, as the presenter scans the South bank for famous faces. The camera follows him into The Royal
Festival Hall as he heads to the bar, hovering awkwardly. He orders a coffee and waits. After paying, he walks around the large foyer,
looking for a seat. Finding none around
the many small seating areas, he sits in front of an empty stage. He pulls out a black notebook and starts to
write.
FADE
SCENE: Street near the South Bank, late evening. A market of
food stalls. THE PROTAGONIST scans the
vats of paella, curry, fajitas, etc.
Stopping at one stall, he taps a tall man (THE FRIEND) on the shoulder.
THE PROTAGONIST:
(Offering hand) Hello maaaate….
THE FRIEND:
(Shaking hands) Alright buddy, what are you doing in town?
THE PROTAGONIST:
Going to a film premiere, as it goes
THE FRIEND:
Cool – hence the smarts.
(Gesturing toward The BFI) What, in there?
THE PROTAGONIST:
Yeah.
THE FRIEND:
How come? Do you know
them? (To vendor) Large, please.
THE PROTAGONIST:
Yeah. I did the
music.
THE FRIEND:
Nice one. (To vendor, who is handing him a cardboard box
full of hot food) Cheers.
THE PROTAGONIST:
What’s your story, working at the festival?
THE FRIEND:
(To the vendor) Thanks very much. Yes, I’m doing a few
panels for it. What time’s your premiere?
THE PROTAGONIST:
Party at 7, film at 8.30, or something.
THE FRIEND:
Oh, yeah, at 8.40 – yeah, I ‘ll be in there for the party
beforehand.
THE PROTAGONIST:
Saaaaafe…
THE FRIEND:
Shall we stroll?
THE PROTAGONIST:
Yes, let’s
THE FRIEND:
Check out the South Bank, have you done that before?
THE PROTAGONIST:
Yeah, but not for a while.
They walk on, approaching the South Bank.
THE FRIEND:
I was in a panel with the director this week, it was pretty
good.
THE PROTAGONIST:
Yeah, she’s great, really driven, really focused.
THE FRIEND:
Are you happy with the film?
THE PROTAGONIST:
I haven’t seen it yet, so I’m excited about tonight. I’ve never been to a premiere before.
THE FRIEND:
Well, it’s probably not quite the Leicester Square-style red
carpet thing, but-
THE PROTAGONIST:
Yeah, I didn’t know if I should dress up, or what, y’know,
so-
THE FRIEND:
You’re fine, man, lookin good.
THE PROTAGONIST:
Cheers mate.
THE FRIEND:
Suit, yeah – winning at life. (Smiling) That’s what a suit says to the
world, I think.
THE PROTAGONIST
(In mock “radio rapper” style) Yeah, blue suit and a green
scarf in the moonlight – winning at life!
THE FRIEND
Exactly.
They stop next to a dup of buskers playing guitar and fiddle
and listen for a few moments, before walking on.
THE PROTAGONIST:
So, what are you working on next, got a lot of film work
coming?
THE FRIEND:
Yeah, the next thing is…
His voice fades as they reach the entrance to The BFI, where
the camera rests on THE PRESENTER.
THE PRESENTER
It’s getting cray-cray here, off the chain! There’s all kinds of celebriddies stalking
the red carpet, so much glamour out here in London right now! Word is Ricky Gervais and Catherine Tate are up
in the building for their latest feature – Ricky G is the exec producer, and
Cathy T is the starrrr of that shizzle.
SCENE: The BFI Blue Room.
Late evening. The room is packed
with guests. Against one wall a
projection of a film trailer plays.
General hum of conversation, some excitable voices, most fairly
subdued. Inside, people in smart-casual
dress with excellent haircuts greet each other with hugs.
THE PRESENTER stands in front of her advertising board
outside the room, still with her microphone.
THE PRESENTER
Lun-dinn, baby! It’s
goin’ OFF at the Premiere of the new spy comedy feature, M-L-E. Behind me, stars of the film pardy with
celebriddies , let’s see, who’s in here…?
She looks back over her shoulder, past the reception desk
where staff are welcoming guests and checking their tickets.
As the camera pans away, we can see that there is no other camera
on her, and her microphone lead trails on the ground, plugged in to nothing.
The camera pans into and around the room, picking up snippets
of conversation.
FILM-MAKER 1:
Yeah, that’s the thing, it’s all about funding. We’ve done most of our projects for nothing,
so far, which is fine, because we were into the project, but it’s time to start
getting some money in to get things off the ground
FILM-MAKER 2:
Definitely. Can’t
work for free for long.
THE MOVIE-GOER:
I like her, she’s an atheist, and I’m an atheist, so it’s
good to see someone on the telly making those point, she’s quite clever.
THE ACTOR:
Right, yeah. I’ve
never heard of her, to be honest.
Camera pans to THE DIRECTOR as she and THE PROTAGONIST greet
each other with a hug.
THE DIRECTOR:
Hey, good to see you!
THE PROTAGONIST:
Hello, alright? Thanks so much for inviting me. Can’t wait to see it.
THE DIRECTOR:
Hope you like it.
Have you got a drink? Have a cup
cake, they’re awesome.
THE PROTAGONIST:
Thanks, I will.
THE PRODUCER arrives, hugs THE PROTAGONIST.
THE PRODUCER:
Hey man, great to see you.
THE PROTAGONIST:
Likewise mate, you good?
THE PRODUCER:
Yes mate, you?
THE PROTAGONIST:
Yeah, sound, looking forward to seeing the finished article
tonight. It’s all very exciting this,
isn’t it? I’ve never been to anything
like this….
A woman (THE HOST) approaches the group, touching THE
DIRECTOR gently on the arm.
THE HOST:
Hi guys, sorry to interrupt, can I just borrow Sarah? (To THE DIRECTOR) Do you want to say a few
words?
THE PRODUCER:
(To THE PROTAGONIST) We’ve gotta go, catch you later, yeah?
THE PROTAGONIST:
Cool, see you in a bit.
Enjoy.
THE PRODUCER and THE DIRECTOR depart as the camera pans
around the room to FADE.
SCENE: Victoria bus station, central London. Late
night. THE PROTAGONIST enters, heads to
the last open kiosk. The camera stays
fixed at the entrance for a few seconds. THE PROTAGONIST emerges, clutching a
couple of snacks, and hurries to join a crowd waiting under a sign that reads
040 BRISTOL 2359
A bus driver approaches the crowd and makes an announcement.
THE BUS DRIVER:
040, Bristol – Let’s go!
As a queue quickly forms, THE PROTAGONIST waits. Eventually, he joins the back of the
queue. Pulling out a black notebook, he
starts to recite:
(During the course of the following verse, the camera
flashes on a series of images of the journey from London to Bristol on the M4,
with THE PROTAGONIST speaking directly to camera, first from the queue at the
station, then from the bus, then a street scene in Stokes Croft, Bristol, and
so on.)
Cold veg samosa at the bus station at midnight:
Winning at life
The new creme eggs are shite, mind, the internet was right
(For once in its life)
Free pink gin and cupcakes at the BFI:
Yeah. Winning at
life.
Chatting atheism with a property developer guy:
Winning at life.
Wandering aimlessly, alone, for most of the night:
Winning at life.
Hearing my own songs in a cinema, laughing with delight:
It’s not arrogance, it’s Winning at life.
Giggling at every single note of mine:
Winning at life.
Drinking single malt whisky from a hip flask, on a bus,
while
Reading by luminous blue reading light, that’s right:
Winning at life
Taking a tenner, and only spending five:
Frugal, right? Winning
at life
Motorway junctions closed? Still home on time:
Winning at life
Seeing this graffiti on the side of the BFI:
“If a double-decker bus
Crashes into us
To die by your side,
Is such a heavenly way to die –
And if a ten ton truck
Kills the both of us,
To die by your side
Well, the pleasure, the privilege is mine.”
WINNING AT LIFE
I made the music for the film, but the music in the film is
not all mine:
Still winning at life.
Walking through Stokes Croft on my own, late at night,
With just a wee, slightly smug-looking smile:
Winning at life.
FADE
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