This is the first couple of scenes of a new idea I've had. It's a bit mad but basically about two very different, warring families trapped in a Centre Parcs-type dome for reasons you'll see. It's not a load to go on but I'm interested in any views you might have so far. Does it make you want to know what happens next?
Cheers.
DOMED
SCENE 1. CLEANPARCS RESORT TV AD. DAY
MUSIC: BEETHOVEN'S A PASTORAL SYMPHONY
WE SEE A CONTENTED, SMILING WOMAN BEING MASSAGED IN A LUXURY SPA-TYPE ENVIRONMENT BY A WHITE-COATED MASSEUSE.
NARRATOR:
When was the last time you really relaxed?
WE SEE A LOVED-UP COUPLE IN A BAR, SIPPING CHAMPAGNE.
NARRATOR:
When was the last time you really forgot the stresses of modern life?
SCREEN BLACKOUT.
NARRATOR:
When was the last time you really breathed?
THE SOOTHING MUSIC SCRATCHES TO A HALT AND IS REPLACED BY GRINDING HEAVY METAL MUSIC AS WE SEE A QUICK STOCK FOOTAGE MONTAGE OF FACTORIES BELCHING SMOKE INTO THE ATMOSPHERE, GRIDLOCKED TRAFFIC POURING OUT EXHAUST FUMES, SMOG, INDUSTRIAL WASTE ETC.
A MAN IN AN ANTI-POLLUTION MASK LOOKS UP INTO THE SKY, AND A DEAD PIGEON LANDS ON HIS FACE. HE CRADLES IT IN HIS HANDS AND LOOKS STRAIGHT INTO CAMERA.
POLLUTION MASK MAN:
(EMOTIONALLY) Whyyy?
CUT TO AN EXTERIOR SHOT OF A CENTRE PARCS-STYLE DOME IN A LUSH FOREST SETTING.
MUSIC: BEETHOVEN'S "A PASTORAL SYMPHONY".
NARRATOR:
Here at CleanParcs we've locked the world out, and locked the paradise in.
MONTAGE FOOTAGE OF FAMILIES ENJOYING HEALTHY MEALS, PEOPLE IN THE GYM, SAUNA ETC.
NARRATOR:
With everything you need under one completely airtight Leisuredome, your stay with us will be pollution and stress-free. So why not give us a try? Call 0846 000 626 for a brochure. CleanParcs. Isn't it time for you to breathe easy?
CUT TO:
SCENE 2. INT. CLEANPARCS RECEPTION AREA. MORNING.
CLOSE UP OF AN OLD MAN LAID ON HIS SIDE ON THE FLOOR, COUGHING AND GASPING FOR AIR. WE PULL BACK TO SHOW SEVERAL OTHER SICK PEOPLE LYING ABOUT, SOME MOVING, SOME NOT. THE RECEPTIONIST IS SLUMPED ACROSS THE COUNTER, HER BREATHING SHALLOW.
THERE'S A TV ON THE WALL WITH THE NEWS ON.
NEWSREADER:
(SOUNDING FULL OF COLD) …emergency services have been completely-overwhelmed as the mutated flu virus appears to have spread rapidly in just a few short hours. Excuse me…(HE SNEEZES, SNOT HANGING FROM HIS NOSE) The Prime Minister has declared a state of emergency and expert advice is to remain indoors…
THE DOORS BURST OPEN AND THE SCRATTLES FAMILY (LUKE, 35, JO, 33 AND DANNY, 15) RUN IN. THEY'RE ALL DRESSED IN TYPICAL CHAVVY ATTIRE, TRACKSUITS, SPORTS GEAR ETC. THEY LOOK AROUND AT THE SCENE.
LUKE: (GEORDIE ACCENT)
Awww bollocks man! It's the same here!
DANNY:
Are we gonna die Dad?
LUKE:
Are we shite! Just keep squirtin' yourselves!
THEY ALL PRODUCE A SQUIRTY BOTTLE OF "FLASH"-TYPE KITCHEN CLEANER AND LIBERALLY MIST THEMSELVES.
LUKE:
It stings Mam!
JO:
Shurrup, it'll be good for your zits.
THEY HURRY OVER TO RECEPTION. LUKE SLAMS HIS CHECK-IN PAPERS ON THE COUNTER.
LUKE:
Scrattles family, we need to check in. Quick!
THE RECEPTIONIST GROANS BUT DOESN'T MOVE. THE OLD MAN FROM THE FLOOR GRABS LUKE'S TRACKY BOTTOMS AND TUGS. LUKE SCREAMS. JO SCREAMS. DANNY SCREAMS.
OLD MAN:
Help…meee…
HE SNEEZES WEAKLY.
LUKE:
(MISTING HIMSELF) Gerroff me Reeboks man! (TO RECEPTIONIST) Look just give us the keys woman!
HE RUNS BEHIND THE COUNTER AND BEGINS RIFLING THROUGH DRAWERS.
DANNY:
Try her pockets Dad!
LUKE STARTS GOING THROUGH HER POCKETS AS SHE SOFTLY MOANS.
ANOTHER FAMILY HURRY THROUGH THE DOORS, THE HENRYS. BY THE LOOK OF THEM THEY'RE OBVIOUSLY A MUCH MORE WELL-TO-DO BUNCH, NOT A TRACKSUIT IN SIGHT, ALL JUMPERS AND SLACKS AND PASHMINAS. THEY ARE MARTIN, 36, CRESSIDA, 35, AND JASMINE, 15. THEY'RE ALL WEARING GASMASKS.
MARTIN SEES LUKE GOING THROUGH THE RECEPTIONIST'S POCKETS.
MARTIN: (FAIRLY POSH, SOUTHERN ACCENT)
Excuse me, what the Hell do you think you're doing? I hope you're not looting?
LUKE:
Shut it, I'm busy.
CRESSIDA: (TO MARTIN)
Careful darling, he's Northern.
MARTIN:
I don't care. My duties as Chief Neighbourhood Watch Officer don't end just because Armageddon's upon us.
WE HEAR THE SCREECH OF TYRES AND A HUGE CRASH FROM OUTSIDE.
JO:
Jesus!
MARTIN LOOKS OUT OF THE WINDOW.
MARTIN:
Oh dear God…it's a coachload of daytrip pensioners…looks like they're all infected…
JO PUSHES PAST CRESSIDA AND LOOKS OUT OF THE WINDOW TOO. WE HEAR THE SOUND OF WHEEZING, MOANING AND COUGHING APPROACHING FROM OUTSIDE.
JO:
Oh crap…there's loads of 'em…they're coming…they're gonna infect us! Hurry up Luke man for Christ's sake!
MARTIN:
(TO LUKE) What exactly are you doing?
LUKE:
I'm trying to find the master key to get us in!
MARTIN:
But that's illegal, surely. There are check-in procedures…
A WHEEZING PENSIONER PUSHES THE DOOR AJAR. EVERYONE SCREAMS AS A WALKING STICK PROTRUDES THROUGH THE DOOR CRACK. SHE SNEEZES. MARTIN DUCKS AS A SPLAT OF INFECTED SNOT HITS THE WALL BEHIND HIM.
LUKE:
Danny! Squirt the cow!
DANNY RUSHES FORWARD AND SQUIRTS THE PENSIONER FULL IN THE FACE WITH HIS KITCHEN CLEANER. SHE YELLS AND RETREATS. DANNY SLAMS THE DOOR SHUT, PUTTING HIS WEIGHT AGAINST IT.
DANNY:
Got her.
JASMINE IS IMPRESSED AND SMILES COYLY AT DANNY. HE SMILES BACK. WE HEAR MORE PENSIONERS ARRIVE ON THE OTHER SIDE OF THE DOOR, BEATING ON IT, COUGHING, SNEEZING, FARTING.
DANNY:
I can't hold them much longer!
CRESSIDA:
(TO MARTIN) For heaven's sake darling, do something!
MARTIN:
Oh very well…
MARTIN JOINS LUKE BEHIND THE COUNTER AND BEGINS SEARCHING AS THE REST OF THE FAMILIES JOIN DANNY IN TRYING TO KEEP THE DOOR SHUT.
MARTIN SEES A LITTLE CUPBOARD ON THE WALL, CLEARLY-MARKED "MASTER KEYS".
MARTIN:
Can't you read?
LUKE:
(SHRUGGING) I'm dyslexic.
MARTIN:
Rubbish. There's no such thing. It's all in the head, like depression and asthma.
THE DOORS ARE ABOUT TO BREAK THROUGH.
JASMINE:
Daddy!
MARTIN:
Flopsy!
MARTIN LOOKS UP AT A SIGN ON THE WALL ABOVE A CORRIDOR. IT READS "TO THE LEISUREDOME".
MARTIN:
Follow me!
THEY ALL RUSH UP THE CORRIDOR TOWARDS SOME GLASS DOORS. WE HEAR THE FRONT DOOR CRASH AND SPLINTER BEHIND THEM AS THE PENSIONERS POUR IN, MOANING, COUGHING, SNEEZING. (WE NEVER ACTUALLY SEE THEM, IT'S ALL SUGGESTED BY SOUND)
MARTIN FUMBLES WITH THE KEYS AS THE CAMERA OMINOUSLY TRACKS UP THE CORRIDOR TOWARDS THEM, FROM THE POINT OF VIEW OF A WHEEZING PENSIONER WITH A ZIMMER FRAME.
JASMINE:
Hurry Daddy, please!
MARTIN:
I'm trying, my Poppet! There's something wrong with the key…
LUKE:
Gimme that!
HE SNATCHES IT FROM MARTIN AND STUFIES IT CLOSELY.
LUKE:
Surface-mounted deadbolt. Triple-tumbler three pin cylinder mechanism. Piece of piss.
HE QUICKLY GETS OUT A LOCKPICK AND UNLOCKS THE DOOR.
MARTIN:
(HORRIFIED) You're a…burglar!
THEY ALL RUSH INSIDE AND SLAM THE DOOR BEHIND THEM. WE HEAR A HISS OF AIR AS THE AIRTIGHT DOME SEALS.
CUT TO:
