LIVE WORK new cene .pdf

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Title: LIVE WORK new cene

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L I V E / W O R K

Written by
Matthew Whitehouse

INT. WAREHOUSE - DAY
Quiet.
A dripping tap provides a metronome in the silence.
Party debris cans, bottles, ashtrays, phones with powdered
screens, guitars, percussion, questionable liquids spilled on
the floor, clothes, baggies, wraps, tobacco pouches and
rizlas.
Sleeping bodies; tangled, hanging off the sofa, on the floor,
underneath the table.
From beneath the mass of people a head pops up with a start.
This is Steph, 29.
She winces in pain.
Oh...

STEPH

She holds her head and sits up properly. Limp, tired bodies
roll away from her.
Oh God...

STEPH

She is in hideous fancy dress, part ball gown, part lycra,
big boots, her face painted like a lion, covered in lipstick
kisses, bags under her eyes, a huge wig tangled round her
neck.
Jack rolls over on the couch, pushing a sleeping body off
him.
JACK
(sleepy)
Morning.
STEPH
(holding her head)
Shush - don’t, don’t be chipper.
JACK
I can’t help it - hangovers agree
with me.
STEPH
This isn’t a hangover it’s an
assault.

2.
She falls to her knees at the living room table and paws at a
glass of water, putting it to her lips and drinking deeply.
She immediately gags and spits it back into the glass.
JACK
Oooh, what is it?
Vodka...

STEPH

Picking something out of her mouth.
STEPH
...And cigarettes.
Jack passes her another cup of liquid, she chugs it down,
grimacing at the taste but pushing through.
STEPH
What time is it?
JACK
Just gone eight.
STEPH
Tits! I’ve got work.
JACK
What? You don’t work on Sunday.
STEPH
It’s Monday, Jack, get your shit
together.
She grabs her bag and goes to leave.
JACK
Your face looks like a rubbish
lion!
She marches back and checks the mirror.
STEPH
I know that, I know - I was just
checking the... thing.
She goes into the bathroom.
Jack picks up her cup and pokes his finger in the bottom - a
squidgy white paste lines the bottom of the cup, he tastes it
and shudders.

3.
She comes out of the bathroom wiping her face. She’s shed the
brunt of the fancy dress and looks semi-respectable.
Look OK?

STEPH

JACK
Like a beautiful hungover mess.
STEPH
Mmm, I can work with that. I’ve got
class at 9, can I borrow your bike?
JACK
By the door.
Thanks!

STEPH

She grabs her backpack and nudges the bike out the door.
EXT. WAREHOUSE - CONTINUOUS
She walks down the stairs and out through the large fire door
and onto the street.
There are people sat around gurning, the remanants of a party
the night before still going on.
A low hum of bass comes from a nearby warehouse, people still
dancing inside.
She gets on the bike and cycles down the street, people in
fancy dress dancing around her.
A left at the bottom of the street, she is greeted by
Africans in religious garb celebrating.
She looks at them, and over to an abandoned carpark opposite,
a sound-system playing drum and bass to the last few ravers,
still partying.
Back at the religious group - she cycles through the middle
of this odd juxtaposition, the sound from both parties
mixing.
INT. CLASSROOM - MORNING
STEPH
(addressing the class)
Yes, but who knows why that is?

4.
A thumping heart beat.
A flash of light.
Why...

STEPH

Eyes darting.
Dry mouth.
Pupils dilate.
STEPH
(through clenched jaw)
Hold it together.
What miss?

KID

STEPH
Nothing! Nothing. Wait - did you
hear that?
Hear what?

KID

STEPH
Nothing, it’s nothing. I’m fine!
I’ll be back in a second.
INT. BATHROOM - CONTINUOUS
Steph slowly opens the door and checks for students.
Clear.
STEPH
Ok, ok, ok.
She wistfully approaches the mirror and looks at herself.
Fractal patterns. The edges of the reflections of the tiles
and wobbling slightly. She’s tripping.
Shit.

STEPH

5.


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