Notes:
The scene #s in bold and the dividers (***) are only for convenience of the WP readers. They won't appear in print/processor copy.
The slugline GRAPHIC indicates text meant to appear onscreen at that point in the script.
Scene 1
FADE IN:
LATE 19TH CENTURY
EXT. "FALLS LAKE" - DAY - TRACKING
A small wooden sign by the lake reads "FALLS LAKE". The lake SHIMMERS and DANCES with breeze and sunshine. The b.g. has thick natural growth in full spring. Distinct birds CHATTER.
A SEEMINGLY AGELESS man, CHARLES MAURICE, in swimming trunks, floats on his back in the middle of the lake, eyes closed, hair shoulder-length.
A large water lily swims behind him. A bird flies down to the waters, touches the surface and flits away, causing a tiny splash. Charles Maurice opens his eyes. He swims backwards towards the left bank made of low rocky bluffs.
The treeline gives in to a clearing to the left that forms a path leading behind the foliage. AN OLD VACANT COTTAGE farther down the lakeside marks the end of the treeline.
CHARLES (V.O.)
"Fool, why try to catch a fleeting image, in vain?
What you search for is nowhere: turning away, what you love is lost!"
Charles aims towards a flat rock that forms an angle of the lake's margin. A CHANGE OF CLOTHES, and one of CLEAN TOWELS are neatly placed on the rock, along with A DUFFEL BAG, and a SKETCHBOOK. Charles changes into dry trunks, o.s.
Charles seems to exude at once an easy masculinity through his physical features while also maintaining a delicate sensibility in every other respect including movement, and later, cadence and expression.
CHARLES (V.O.)
"What you perceive is the shadow of reflected form: nothing of you is in it. It comes and stays with you, and leaves with you, if you can leave!"
LEAVES RUSTLE to his left but he finds nothing. He dries himself. ANOTHER, LOUDER RUSTLE. A spot in the thicket to the left SWINGS DISTINCTLY. There's a moment of anticipation on Charles' face. Again, nothing.
In controlled yet laid-back fashion, Charles gets down on his knees to gather his things including some SCATTERED PENS and PENCILS. Then, he curiously stops and inches towards the brink. He cranes his neck forward above the lake and EXAMINES HIS OWN CLEAR REFLECTION.
Freshly dried fluff of brown hair frames the face. Corners of the mouth curl into a smile. Charles' HAND HOVERS above the gently rippling image. It is an artist's well-kept hand with slender fingers. Before it touches the water, however, A ROUGHER, BROADER HAND grabs Charles' shoulder from behind. Startled, Charles turns and straightens up.
The intruder is JACK DOHERTY, 42, taller, more muscular than Charles, with a rough unshaven face and a moustache. He wears plain workmanlike clothes.
CHARLES
Wh- Who are you?
JACK
What, you don't remember me? I'm Jack. Jack Doherty, your old mate.
(off Charles' blank stare)
We used to run around right here... a long time ago when we were youths.
Charles wordlessly denies. Jack snorts.
JACK
Come on, Charlie. You can't forget me. We were this close.
(holds up two aligned fingers)
We used to roast corn and grill meats right there yonder.
(points to the cottage)
And it wasn't just me and you. It was a whole band! But you don't seem to remember any of it! I was away that long, huh?
YOU ARE READING
The Narcissus
Historical FictionScreenplay is the script of a film, including acting instructions and scene directions. Complete manuscript to be updated once in a while.
