An idea for a character piece; possibly a runner, or a series of shorts - undecided. Here's Part One.
[ Part 2: https://www.comedy.co.uk/forums/thread/9388 ]
[ Part 3: https://www.comedy.co.uk/forums/thread/9406 ]
* * * * *
SCENE 1.
INT. LOUNGE ROOM. NIGHT.
THEODORE HESSIAN (30-ISH, WELL-DRESSED AND SERIOUS-LOOKING) IS SEATED IN A LEATHER ARMCHAIR. THE ROOM IS DIM, BUT THEODORE'S FACE IS ILLUMINATED BY THE EMBERS FROM A FIREPLACE. HE ADDRESSES THE CAMERA.
THEODORE:
Bonjour. Wilkommen. Salut. Assalamualaikum. Ola. Hallo. Halo. Hi. I'm Theodore Hessian – poet, philosopher, romantic, social commentator, ambassador for mankind, linguistic sorcerer, warlock of rhyme, humanist. Primarily poet, sure, but all those other things equally, if less. In this series, I'll take you on a journey into the darkest recesses of my art, my heart, and my life. Welcome to Theodore Hessian: On Being, Etcetera.
ENIGMATIC THEME MUSIC. FADE TO:
SCENE 2.
EXT. STREET. MORNING.
THEODORE WALKS UP A STREET AND ENTERS A CORNER SHOP. CUT TO INT., SHOP.
THEODORE (V/O):
I spend my every waking minute with reams of rhyme billowing through my brain. I live poetry. It's what I am. I have a gift I need to express, and I can't relinquish that gift. I can't deny that need.
THEODORE HANDS THE SHOPKEEPER A NEWSPAPER.
THEODORE:
I'll just have the Mail, thanks. Not intimately, of course.
SHOPKEEP:
Eh?
THEODORE (glances at camera):
Never mind.
SHOPKEEP:
One-twenty, mate.
THEODORE:
So they've trapped you in their prison,
The grasping hands of capitalism.
SHOPKEEP:
What?
THEODORE WAVES IT OFF, PAYS.
THEODORE (to camera):
Philistine.
CUT TO:
SCENE 3.
INT. LOUNGE ROOM. NIGHT.
THEODORE ADDRESSES THE CAMERA FROM HIS ARMCHAIR.
THEODORE:
Poetry. Let me share some. This is taken from an anthology entitled "Musings from the Omnibus". It's called "Note For A Lover", and goes something like this:
My lonely wrist,
My naked tooth,
My sullen brow,
My sautéed youth,
My amber neck,
My fluid knee,
My turgid bowel,
I give to thee.
My sweaty eye,
My silver ear,
My gastric flu,
All sense you near,
My struggling shin,
My paedo mouth,
You've lit my soul,
Don't put it out.
By Theodore Hessian. That's me. Not another person of the same name; I don't think my name's even that common. So… romance.
FIN.