Every film starts its progress from a written form. This is the script for “My Suckage Blues” which I shot almost a year ago.
My Suckage Blues
Written By
Gasel Ximena
Gasel’s Studio of Films and Performing Arts
07 2134 1986
FADE IN
INT. HEMINGWAY BAR -NIGHT
A dark, lonesome lounge. Dull jazz music from the 60’s can be heard coming from inside. CLAUDE is a regular patron at the place. He sits slouched over the bar, utterly absent-minded. CU on him then ZOOM OUT.
CLAUDE(V.O.)
I’m Claude, 26 years old. No job,
no skills, no house, no girlfriend.
No one ever seems to like me. I
suck. Everything sucks.
(beat)
And this is my suckage blues.
BARMAN acknowledges him, he is unenthusiastically shaking a cocktail. Once it’s made, he sloppily places it on the bar top. He seems hostile towards Claude.
BARMAN
Here you are, cuntface.
Claude is flabbergasted as he is addressed with an outrages name. He raises his head, perfunctorily smiles and points at himself gesturing if it’s really him that’s been addressed.
BARMAN
Yeah, you. There is no one else
around.
He takes a look around, still having difficultly accepting this.
CLAUDE
Why am I cuntface?
BARMAN
It’s the only name I could think
of, cuntface.
Claude is too knackered to put forth his counter-argument.
CLAUDE
(forced laugh)
My name is Claude. That’s right,
we’ve never actually met–
BARMAN
–Yes, we’ve never actually met
even though you’ve come in here 10
fuckin’ consecutive days at the
most inappropriate times.
CLAUDE
(repeating)
Inappropriate times.
BARMAN
Times when there are no other
customers around and I could have
just sat at the back if it weren’t
for you sitting around either
meditating or fantasizing getting
shagged by some goats or something.
A beat.
Claude spends a few moments searching for words, and takes a sip of his cocktail -but it tastes nothing like what he expected.
CLAUDE
(referring to the
cocktail)
I thought I ordered Slut Flamingo.
BARMAN
Slut Flamingo needs a lot of
crushed ice and a lot of crushed
ice is pain in the arse, so I just
made anything. Special drink for
you, cuntface.
(beat)
I didn’t put any effort into it.
Claude is not amused, but manages to contain his behaviour.
CLAUDE
(beat)
Doesn’t taste too bad, though. A
bit like Manhattan. How would you
name this?
BARMAN
Who cares. Womanhattan or
something.
CLAUDE
Womanhattan, because it’s got–
BARMAN
(interrupting)
–Yeah, because you’re faggot.
This is too much for Claude’s self-esteem. He half-heartedly tosses his bill on the bar and walks off, looking like a man contemplating suicide, stumbling around weakly with his limbs hanging limply.
CLAUDE
(weak)
I hate you.
He exits the bar. MANAGER comes out from the back.
MANAGER
(to BARMAN)
You’re fired. Be grateful I’ve been
this patient with you for the past
10 days.
(beat)
Good bye, cuntface.
CU –BARMAN, deep immersed in melancholy.
BARMAN(V.O.)
I’m Jack, 26 years old. I’ve got no
skills and no patience. I’m not
good socially. No one ever seems to
like me. Now I’ve just been fired
from my thirtieth job. I suck.
Everything sucks.
(beat)
And this is my suckage blues.
BARMAN exhales a short sigh from his nose, and takes a sip of “Womanhattan” that Claude left behind. CU –WOMANHATTAN. We hear BARMAN crying off screen.
THE END
Gasel's Stuido of Films & Performing Arts 