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THE ENGINE ROOM
by
M. Goodwin
INT. PRODUCTION OFFICE -- MORNING
The room is bright and spacious with hip, retro furniture
that looks very uncomfortable but well-placed. Very feng-
shui.
BILL CUSHING, movie producer, sits importantly behind his
desk. His thinning hair is as impeccably stylish as his
suit.
A pile of scripts are neatly stacked on the desk. Doubtful
any have been touched.
The INTERCOM BUZZES.
LADY'S VOICE (O.S.)
Mr. Cushing?
CUSHING
Yes?
LADY'S VOICE (O.S.)
Mrs. Hamill to see you.
CUSHING
Send her through.
LADY'S VOICE (O.S.)
Right away.
A KNOCK on the door. Timid.
CUSHING
Come.
A woman in her late thirties enters, LAURA HAMILL, plain,
well-dressed, and very nervous. The kind of idealistic
spirit movie producers mix into their cereal for breakfast.
Laura closes the door behind her but stays put, leaning up
against it as though she may need to bolt at any second.
CUSHING (CONT'D)
(rising)
Mrs. Hamill. Thanks for coming.
I'm Mr. Cushing. Please, come and
sit.
Laura breathes out, straightens, assumes her best 'I'm a
very busy woman' look and strides over to her seat.
CUSHING (CONT'D)
I'm glad you could make it.
LAURA
Thank you.
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2.
CUSHING
Did you find a park okay? They're
filming Death Squad 3 out in the
lot and you might have --
LAURA
No, I took the bus.
CUSHING
Oh. Much easier.
An uncomfortable pause... the sinking kind.
CUSHING (CONT'D)
Have you seen any of the Death
Squad films?
LAURA
Uh, no.
CUSHING
Something we're pretty proud of
around here. I was meant to produce
the first sequal two years ago,
did you know?
LAURA
Oh?
CUSHING
Yeah, but... had to decline. Too
busy these days.
LAURA
Right.
CUSHING
That's why I called you. You know,
normally I don't meet with first-
timers or amateurs but -- with you
I'm making an exception.
Laura rises at this.
CUSHING (CONT'D)
I heard some good things about
you, Laura. May I call you Laura?
(on her nod)
Good, I hate being formal. Formal
blows as far as I'm concerned.
I'm into hip, funky new writers
who are unashamed to push the limits
of conventional theatre. Who can
offer me something the others can't.
Something brash, bold, thought-
provoking. You know what I mean,
Laura?
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3.
LAURA
Yes, Mr. --
CUSHING
No, no. No 'Mr.' rubbish around
here. Do you see my shoes?
LAURA
Excuse me?
CUSHING
Did you see my shoes when you walked
in?
LAURA
No.
CUSHING
Well, have a look now.
LAURA
Um...
CUSHING
Go on, look under there.
Laura slowly bends down to look under the desk. She has
to get right down on the floor. A moment later, she sits
back up.
CUSHING (CONT'D)
Did you see them?
LAURA
(nods)
Sneakers.
CUSHING
Sneakers! Absolutely! You see,
I'm a seeker, Laura. A seeker for
originality. For the
intellectualisation of American
cinema. That's why I work for
Fox. Don't be fooled by my suit,
Laura. That's just to throw the
nitwits that roam the halls of
these buildings, fretting over who
will give them the next Matrix.
Laura smiles, as though she is part of this conspiracy.
CUSHING (CONT'D)
See all these scripts, Laura? I
get a new pile every day. Same
shit. Buddy-cop, teen-slasher,
high school nostalgic, 'I wanna be
a cheerleader' crap that appeal to
twelve-year olds and morons.
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
4.
He stops. Laura waits, patiently.
CUSHING (CONT'D)
Do you see what I mean, Laura? I
want something different. Abstract.
That's why I searched the grass
roots of the creative world. The
film school. And that's why you're
sitting in my office.
(sits back, Zen-
like)
So, Laura... inspire me.
Laura is quiet for a moment, then realises she has the
floor.
LAURA
Well --
(clears throat)
It's similar to my film school
thesis, a short film entitled "Fish
Love: A Postmodern Film Noir."
Have you seen it?
CUSHING
Uh... was it a Warner's film?
That sinking silence again.
LAURA
Um, no.
CUSHING
Go on.
LAURA
Did you get a chance to read my
draft?
Cushing blinks. He SLAPS the pile of scripts with his
hand.
CUSHING
You know, I started it but... I
want you to tell me in your own words, Laura. Move me.
Laura takes a breath.
LAURA
Okay. It's about a middle-aged
woman, happily married --
CUSHING
Uh-huh.
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5.
LAURA
-- and living in the wild, untamed
Wyoming mountains, who goes on a
spiritual journey to regain her
virginity.
Dead silence. Cushing is a statue.
A minute passes.
CUSHING
How old is she?
LAURA
Middle-aged.
CUSHING
What, forty?
LAURA
Around forty, yes.
CUSHING
Are we talking Leslie Ann Miller
forties? Or Meryl Streep forties?
LAURA
Excuse me?
CUSHING
Or could we push for a Julia Roberts-
nearly-in-her-forties-but-still-
with-great-tits forties?
LAURA
I don't think that --
CUSHING
I'm just trying to get a feel here,
Laura. A sense of who she is.
Could we go any younger? Have you
seen Mariah Carey's new film?
LAURA
No.
CUSHING
Fantastic. She's going to be a
star. Listen, we're friends. I'm
going to speak to you as a friend.
Frankly, I'm having a hard time
seeing this. You have to empathise
with a character, Laura. Empathise.
Personally, I don't know any
virgins. Got anything else?
Laura is stunned.
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6.
CUSHING (CONT'D)
You're married, aren't you?
LAURA
Yes, I am.
CUSHING
Good for you. Tough industry,
always wanting younger and sexier.
That's why I'm here. It's my goal
to make something original. Any
kids?
LAURA
(nods)
Three.
CUSHING
Holy shit. Hence the story about
wanting your virginity back, eh?
LAURA
(close to tears)
No, that's not right at all --
Cushing stands and holds out his hand.
CUSHING
I want to help you on this, Laura.
I really do. I know a few people
who may listen. We can only hope.
Laura rises and shakes his hand.
LAURA
Thank you, Bill.
Cushing reacts ever so slightly at this informality. He
leads her to the door.
CUSHING
That's my job. Let's work as a
team on this one.
She is barely out the door when he SLAMS it shut.
FADE TO:
INT. PRODUCTION OFFICE -- MORNING
SUPER: THE NEXT DAY
Cushing at his desk, same as before. He has a script open
and is staring at it as though it's a cryptic crossword.
SIGHING, he throws it in the bin and sits back, rubbing
his temples.
He flicks the INTERCOM.
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7.
CUSHING
Betty?
BETTY (O.S.)
Yes, Mr. Cushing?
CUSHING
What do you know about Post-Soviet
existentialist philosophy?
BETTY (O.S.)
Sir?
CUSHING
See? That's exactly what I'm trying
to do here? I want to make films
that not only inspire and entertain,
but to educate. Who's next?
BETTY (O.S.)
William S. Guinness, sir.
CUSHING
Guinness? Sounds familiar. He
wrote that book, didn't he?
BETTY (O.S.)
I'm not sure --
CUSHING
See who owns the rights, would
you? Send him in and order a plate
of semi-cooked sushi for lunch.
WILLIAM S. GUINNESS, pimply, goateed, and with a pre-
pubescent look of self-satisfaction that makes you want to
slap him, enters.
He walks straight up to the desk and sits, uninvited.
It's Cushing's turn to look stunned, especially as he is
still standing with hand outstretched.
GUINNESS
Hey, Bill.
(runs his hand
through his long
hair) Whew! Hell of a day to get a park.
Cushing sits, still trying to figure this guy out.
GUINNESS (CONT'D)
Hey, is that the Death Squad thing
they're filming out there?
CUSHING
Yes, it is. You know, I was to
produce that one, but... you know--
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8.
GUINNESS
Man, that movie is a classic.
They'll never make a film as classy
as Death Squad again.
CUSHING
(warming to this
guy)
No, they probably won't.
GUINNESS
All right. That's enough of the
obligatory small talk. Let's get
down to business. My name's
Guinness.
CUSHING
Like the beer.
GUINNESS
(ignoring)
William S. Guinness. And you need
me.
CUSHING
(beat)
Do I?
GUINNESS
Can I speak frankly, Bill? I hate
this pitching bullshit. But, I
will do it for you, because I hear
you're after something original.
Something thought-provoking and
artistic.
CUSHING
I am. Don't let this suit fool
you. I only wear it to throw the
nitwits who roam the halls praying
on the next --
GUINNESS
So. Here I go. Picture this.
(leans forward)
Three desperate men, and a bank
robbery.
Cushing frowns.
GUINNESS (CONT'D)
But, wait... it all goes horribly
wrong.
Guinness stops.
Silence. Then --
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9.
CUSHING
A bank robbery that goes wrong.
Of course! It's original. It's
thought-provoking. It's artistic.
It's socially relevant. It could
star Brad Pitt.
Guinness smiles, as though he has been sitting on the most
daring and original idea in the world.
CUSHING (CONT'D)
It'll have the critics in a lather.
Do you have a script?
GUINNESS
Scripts are bullshit --
CUSHING
Of course they are. Of course
they are. That can come later.
(stands)
Let's do this.
(shakes Guinness'
hand)
I'll be in touch.
(showing him to the
door)
Let's make a classic!
Guinness exits. Cushing CLAPS his hands in triumph.
He flops in his couch and pulls off his sneakers, GROANING
at his sore feet.
The INTERCOM BUZZES.
BETTY (O.S.)
Sir? I've found out what...
(reading)
Post-Soviet Existentialist theatre--
CUSHING
Don't care, Betty. Who watches
other country's films anyway?
They're nowhere near as good as
ours.
BETTY (O.S.)
Yes, sir.
CUSHING
(pulling off socks)
Come in here, would you Betty? I
need you for an important job.
BETTY (O.S.)
Right away.
FADE OUT.
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10.
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