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Monthly Archive for April, 2012

Movies You Will Never See/ Coney Island Bluefish/Part 5

*For Introduction with submission guidelines go to April 4.

*Heywood Gould is the author of 9 screenplays including “Rolling Thunder,”Fort Apache, The Bronx,”Boys From Brazil”and “Cocktail.”

CONEY ISLAND BLUEFISH

By Heywood Gould

ACT TWO

IN BLACK…5;50.13 SHOUTS, CURSES, FLOPS.

        RADIO
Units AC 1 and AC 2 report to
squad at 19:30 for special
assignment.

EXT. PLAYING FIELD. DAY.

Twilight on the muddy, rutted field. RADIOS squawk in jacket pockets and backpacks on the sideline. Cops run back and forth, checking the calls then running back onto the field where Putts is trying to get a practice in before nightfall. Third and Derek and other burly COPS practice patterns. Sloan, huffing and puffing, tries to keep up as Derek runs out of the back field. He staggers off the field, gasping toward Putts, who is yelling instructions to BAGELS on the line.

        PUTTS
Gotta get off the line faster
than that, big guy.
(sees Sloan)
Gimme twenty for comin’ off
the field without permission.

        SLOAN
Wait up, Jeff I just wanted
to ask you: Still runnin’
that T group for hate crime
kids?.

        PUTTS
Every Sunday at Clearview
Baptist. It’s the kids who
vandalized cemeteries or
attacked minorities. It’s
part of their probation. You
got somebody you wanna put in?

        SLOAN
My son.

        PUTTS
It’s mostly black and
Hispanic. I don’t know how
a white kid would go in that
mix. What’d he do?

        SLOAN
Nothin’ yet. He’s subscribing
to all these hate groups on
the Internet. Chat rooms,
weird ideas…

        PUTTS
Does he have any contact with
minority kids?

        SLOAN
There might be thirty or
forty in his school. But
they’re mostly on the teams
and they hang together. It’s
that Internet…

        PUTTS
Internet’s just a tool. I’ll
go online tonight and find
you a great counseling group
right in your neck of the
woods. But I gotta tell you,
Donnie, it comes from you.

        SLOAN
How can you say that?

        PUTTS
Not every one of those thirty
or forty minority kids is on
the basketball team. And they
don’t all stick together. But
that’s your assumption and
that’s what he picks up.

        SLOAN
You know me, Jim…

        PUTTS
And I love you like a brother.
But it’s comin’ off you just
like them cigarettes you try
to hide. Kids smell it on you.
And then they run with it.
Take it places you don’t want
it to go.

        SLOAN
So what do I do?

        PUTTS
You gotta spend some quality
time with this boy. Let him
know the way you and Corinne
really feel about things.
Then, we’ll find him a group…
Now give me forty you racist
pig…

Sloan starts to protest, but sees Putts’s point. He drops in the mud and starts doing push ups…

INT.KEAT’S OFFICE.NIGHT

Keats is hanging upside down from a gravity belt. Conti enters.

        CONTI
Made some calls. Looks like
Barry Weiner got caught in a
little mob war.

        KEATS
Wiseguys! They can’t go a
month without killin’ each
other.

        CONTI
This morning they found a
Bensonhurst shy named Peter
Cortina in a burning Catera
upstate in Brewster. The
whisper was that he was part
of the Scaduto crew tryin’
to move in on Coney Island.

        KEATS
So Cortina killed Weiner and
Varese got him back right
away. Eddie Varese got this
neighborhood from Gambino
himself. He’ll dump bodies
all over before he gives it
up.

        CONTI
So they wipe each other out?
Who cares?

        KEATS
Me. For one thing I got a
bunch of homicides I can’t
clear. Screws up my stats.
And another: some little kids
on their way to school see a
stiff in a burning car? Not
in my precinct.

        CONTI
(helping him down)
You wanna fix your back up?
Get yourself a nice lady.
Nice massage. Nice…

        KEATS
Hey Doctor Feelgood. you’re
wanted in the diarrhea ward…
I feel like bustin’ chops on
this Weiner thing.

        CONTI
Let’s bust ‘em.

INT.LOCKER ROOM. NIGHT.

Burke comes out of the shower wrapped in a towel. Sloan is getting dressed. He speaks in a casual undertone.

        SLOAN
A word to the not so wise,
Jerry. IAD’S got film on you
and a fellow officer. And
there’s some talk about some
other extra curricular
activities…

        BURKE
(stunned but controlled)
How do you know about it?

        SLOAN
A friend of mine who’s also a
friend of your’s asked me to
pass it on.

        BURKE
You ain’t spyin’ on me,
Donnie.

        SLOAN
Yeah. And then tellin’ you all
about it. With all due respect,
you’re not too cool. But
you’re a tough kid and people
like you. You’re gettin’ a
play this time. Next time
you’re on your own. Say a
hundred Hail Marys and sin
no more.

Slams his locker shut and moves away.

INT.GOLDEN GATE LOUNGE. NIGHT.

SALSA blasts and COUPLES WHIRL on a strobed dance floor. The rest of the joint is dark as a cave. Conti finds his way to the bar where Sandra is waiting. He notices the low cut cocktail dress.

        CONTI
Didn’t think you’d make it.

        SANDRA
My friend Mimi brought me.
She’s a regular.

        CONTI
You changed into something
less comfortable.

        SANDRA
I got a closet full of
dresses I haven’t worn in
years.

        CONTI
Where’s your friend?

Sandra points to a WOMAN in jeans and a halter top doing a wicked mambo on the dance floor.

        SANDRA
She’s in a bad marriage. Her
husband beats her up.

        CONTI
Maybe he’s pissed because she
hangs out here. In this joint
people meet to cheat.

        SANDRA
And you wear your ring so
they’ll think you’re still
married.

        CONTI
Some people only get off when
they’re gettin’ over. Why
spoil their fun? Not a
drinker, huh?

        SANDRA
Hate the taste.

        CONTI
Have a Velvet Hammer. Creme
de cocoa, Cointreau and heavy
cream, tastes like a smoothie.

        SANDRA
God,the drinks, the line.
You’ve got this down to a
science.

        CONTI
More like a ritual. But with
you it’s a little different.

        SANDRA
Yeah, right

        CONTI
Really. There’s this paradox.
I was happy to see you, but
surprised you came. I want to
seduce you, but I want it to
mean something. Don’t believe
me, do you?

        SANDRA
Does it matter?
(to the bartender)
I’ll have a Velvet Hammer.

Next: Act 2 Con’t

CONEY ISLAND BLUEFISH By Heywood Gould

I pitched a show about how cops deal with the new ethnically diverse New York.

The executives looked up from their blackberries…

Thought Coney Island–home to refugees from the former Soviet Empire a burgeoning Mexican population, Indians, Pakistanis, Hasidim, not to mention retired garment workers, Mafia holdouts, yuppies, hipsters and health nuts who want to be by the sea–would be a good arena.

The executives leaned forward in their chairs—a good sign.

Police precincts field sports teams that play other city departments and go to a state championship every year.

The executives had never heard of that.
“Great hook,” someone said.

I wrote the script. Joy was unconfined. We were on our way.

Then it was bounced down from the “upstairs.”

The verdict:
“Is he kidding?”

Enjoy
Best,
Heywood

Our first script was EMPIRES OF CRIME. Seven years in development was a six part mini-series commissioned by a broadcast network and later reacquired by a cable station.

Click on EMPRIES OF CRIME link below for the entire script.

EMPIRES OF CRIME

The story is about the founders of Organized Crime, Meyer Lansky, and “Lucky” Luciano, their fifty year partnership and the empire they created. Their friendships and families, lives and loves. It is also about their implacable enemy Thomas Dewey, a young Republican attorney who built a political career prosecuting the Mob that propelled him to the NY Governor’s Mansion and almost to the White House.

Movie You Will Never See/Coney Island Bluefish/Part 4

*For Introduction with submission guidelines go to April 4.

*Heywood Gould is the author of 9 screenplays including “Rolling Thunder,”Fort Apache, The Bronx,”Boys From Brazil”and “Cocktail.”

CONEY ISLAND BLUEFISH

By Heywood Gould

ACT TWO

IN BLACK..9:12:43…SIRENS, VOICES…

RADIO

Paramedics on the scene, Victim will be D.O.A. at Coney Island General…

EXT.PROJECTS.DAY.

PARAMEDICS wheel a body bag on a gurney past Sloan and Conti. Another PARAMEDIC hands them the victim’s personal effects. First, a gold chain which Sloan, wearing latex gloves, drops into a ZIPLOC BAG. Then, a wallet containing FAMILY PHOTOS.

        SLOAN
This is Barry’s. Remember he
showed us the pictures of his
grandkids when we locked him
up?

The Paramedic hands Conti a GOLD MONEY CLIP jammed with charred bills.

        CONTI
It wasn’t robbery. Got a
cause of death?

The Paramedic drops two NINE MILLIMETER SHELLS into his hand.

        SLOAN
We gotta tell his wife.

        CONTI
(walking away)
You gotta tell her. You
bucked for this.

        SLOAN
I said I knew the guy…

Arguing, they walk past FIREMEN hosing down the burnt hulk of the car. Past Putts and Bagels canvassing the neighborhood PEOPLE. Putts sees a young, muscular fireman, winding a hose.

        PUTTS
You’re Billy Lyons, Gene’s
boy.

        BILLY
That’s me.

        PUTTS
Hey Donnie… Remember Gene
Lyons?

        SLOAN
(with an awkward look)
Sure…Yeah…

        PUTTS
We worked with your dad in
Brooklyn Vice, You played for
Christ the King, right?

        BILLY
Yeah.

        PUTTS
All City tailback. Scholar-
ship to Notre Dame. Then your
ACL blew out.

        BILLY
How do you know all this?

        PUTTS
I remember everything. I’m a
walkin’ sports computer.
Still ballin’?

        BILLY
For fun. We got a pretty good
team at the firehouse..

        PUTTS
You wanna talk football, we
got it working at the
precinct. Coney Island
Bluefish.

        BILLY
We’re playin’ you next week.

        PUTTS
Yeah, we’ll go half speed on
you. You know Derek Lawkes?

        BILLY
I’ve heard of him.

        PUTTS
Ninety five plus on the
cutter. Made it to Pawtucket,
but threw his arm out. He’s
our quarterback. Third Markham?

        BILLY
He played for Xavier.

        PUTTS
He’s our linebacker. Ain’t
nobody runnin’ by him. Or
over him. Donnie here’s the
safety. Fastest white man in
captivity.

        SLOAN
Can I talk to you for a
second, Putts.

        PUTTS
I’m coachin’ and I gotta say,
in all modesty, I can prepare
this team to play against
anybody. Now if we had a
runner like you we could go
to the nationals. .

        BILLY
You gotta be a cop, right?
I’m a fireman.

        PUTTS
That’s what I don’t
understand. I mean why you
doin’ this sissy gig?.

        BILLY
I’m not into gunplay and
beatin’ on people.

        PUTTS
Ninety five per cent of this
job is community relations,
right Donnie?

        SLOAN
It can get hairy now and then.

        PUTTS
I ain’t pulled my gun in such
a long time I got spider webs
in my holster. Anyway, I would
think you’d wanna be a cop.
Follow the family tradition…

        BILLY
What tradition? My old man
got kicked off the job for
shakin’ down hookers.
(walks away)
Input that into your computer…
Coach.

 Putts watches thunderstruck as Sloan shakes his head.

        SLOAN
That’s what I wanted to tell
you.

IN BLACK…10:58:02

        RADIO
…Pick up Sandra Lightner,
Barry Weiner’s niece at 1600
Seagate Avenue and bring her
to Coney Island General for
a positive identification.

 INT. HOSPITAL WAITING ROOM. DAY.

An overworked, overcrowded city hospital. Conti and Sloan sip institutional coffee. Sloan looks over a crumpled list.

        SLOAN
My family gives me a shopping
list every morning before I
leave. Mozzarella from
Fanelli’s Salumeria because
Corinne won’t make eggplant
parmigian’ with the
supermarket cheese.

        CONTI
You can take the girl outta
Brooklyn.

        SLOAN
But you can’t take the
Brooklyn outta the girl, I
know. I gotta go to
Beckstein’s Hardware because
no store in Tarrytown has a
number eleven gill nut.
Ashley needs a blouse, they
call a hoochie top. Brian
wants a Hamsen high speed
modem. Don’t have it in the
mall, so I gotta go to
Bazarov the computer maven

        CONTI
All his stuff is swag.

        SLOAN
At least he knows what to
steal. Why’d I move to the
suburbs in the first place?

        CONTI
Fresh air, green grass and
good schools you said. But
you know why you really did
it? You got a martyr complex.
You’re not happy unless
you’re miserable.

        SLOAN
Please. I don’t need the king
of the psychos, analyzing me.

        CONTI
Hey I may be dysfunctional
but I walk to work. And I got
the best mozarell’ in the
world right around the
corner… This Ms. Lightner?

SANDRA LIGHTNER

early thirties, a voluptuous, vulnerable brunette is walking in with two PATROLMEN.

CONTI jumps up.

        CONTI (cont’d)
I’ll take her. You deal with
the Uzbekis.

        SLOAN
Thanks, pal..

        CONTI
It’s your geographical
specialty.

And approaches Sandra, waving the cops away.

        CONTI (cont’d)
Ms. Lightner? I’m Detective
Conti. You don’t have to put
yourself through this. Your
aunt has already identified
Mr. Weiner’s effects.

        SANDRA
I can handle it, I’m a dental
hygienist.

        CONTI
With all due respect, you
won’t see this in a dentist’s
chair. This way.

He walks her across the room past:

SLOAN who is consulting with a DOCTOR.

        DOCTOR
She’s got a pretty bad
concussion. Broken nose,
bruises on upper torso and
legs. Ring marks…She’s
under sedation…

        SLOAN
Was she raped?

        DOCTOR
She wouldn’t let us examine
her. Her father and brothers
are goin’ crazy like we’re
performing experiments on
her.

        SLOAN
I’ll talk to them.

He walks across the room toward Shamil who is sitting head in hands, while his sons ADAN and BASHIR pace impatiently.

        SLOAN (CONT’D)
Mr.Akhmadov, I’m Detective
Sloan…

        ADAN
(jumps at him)
Why won’t they tell us about
my sister?

        BASHIR
We have to know what
happened.

        SLOAN
We have no medical
information.

        BASHIR
You are police. Find out.

        SLOAN
We will. Right now I need you
to sit down, calm down and
answer some questions.

The boys glare. Shamil mutters a command. They sit.

INT. MORGUE.DAY.

SHROUDED BODIES on stretchers. Sandra shivers. Conti looks over appreciatively.

        CONTI
Separated, huh?

        SANDRA
Why do you say that?

        CONTI
Your ring finger. Got a
little white spot where the
wedding band was.

        SANDRA
Good deduction. But wrong. I
threw the ring in my
husband’s face last night.
(points to his finger)
You’re still married.

        CONTI
Separated.

        SANDRA
Why do you wear the ring, to
keep the women away?

        CONTI
The opposite. Something about
married men. Forbidden fruit.
Attracts women.

        SANDRA
Only sluts and homewreckers.

        CONTI
Well, there’s plenty of them
around to keep me occupied.
Although I do like nice,
normal women. Wanna go for a
drink tonight?

The Attendant enters wheeling a stretcher.

        SANDRA
You’re flirting in a morgue?

        CONTI
Just tryin’ to connect. Here
we are.

Conti removes the white sheet. Sandra recoils at the sight.

        SANDRA
My Uncle Barry, the bookie.
I guess if you break the law
you have to expect this.

        CONTI
Happens to honest people,
too. Can happen to anybody.

        SANDRA
That’s a comforting thought.

Next: Act 2 Con’t

CONEY ISLAND BLUEFISH By Heywood Gould

I pitched a show about how cops deal with the new ethnically diverse New York.

The executives looked up from their blackberries…

Thought Coney Island–home to refugees from the former Soviet Empire a burgeoning Mexican population, Indians, Pakistanis, Hasidim, not to mention retired garment workers, Mafia holdouts, yuppies, hipsters and health nuts who want to be by the sea–would be a good arena.

The executives leaned forward in their chairs—a good sign.

Police precincts field sports teams that play other city departments and go to a state championship every year.

The executives had never heard of that.
“Great hook,” someone said.

I wrote the script. Joy was unconfined. We were on our way.

Then it was bounced down from the “upstairs.”

The verdict:
“Is he kidding?”

Enjoy
Best,
Heywood

Our first script was EMPIRES OF CRIME. Seven years in development was a six part mini-series commissioned by a broadcast network and later reacquired by a cable station.

Click on EMPRIES OF CRIME link below for the entire script.

EMPIRES OF CRIME

The story is about the founders of Organized Crime, Meyer Lansky, and “Lucky” Luciano, their fifty year partnership and the empire they created. Their friendships and families, lives and loves. It is also about their implacable enemy Thomas Dewey, a young Republican attorney who built a political career prosecuting the Mob that propelled him to the NY Governor’s Mansion and almost to the White House.

Movies You Will Never See/Coney Island Bluefish/Part 3

Hi all,
After weeks of updating, switching servers, hosts, moving data bases, we are back with Coney Island Bluefish.
Enjoy.
Best,
Heywood

*For Introduction with submission guidelines go to April 4.

*Heywood Gould is the author of 9 screenplays including “Rolling Thunder,”Fort Apache, The Bronx,”Boys From Brazil”and “Cocktail.”

CONEY ISLAND BLUEFISH

By Heywood Gould

ACT ONE (Con’t)

INT.SQUAD.DAY.

A SESAME BAGEL pops out of a toaster on the desk of DETECTIVE SEYMOUR (BAGELS) EICHORN, thick neck, thick arms, late thirties. He passes a half to a young, black SUSPECT, who has one hand cuffed to the chair. .

        BAGELS
You see the sesame seeds
keep you regular, they
lower your blood pressure.

        SUSPECT
I like this smoked salmon
spread.

Next to him his partner JERRY (PUTTS) CORBETT, black, wiry, mid forties—the senior man—is putting a golf ball into an electric putting machine.

        PUTTS
Problem with sesame is
that it can replicate the
chemical profile of marijuana.

        SUSPECT
You mean if you gave me a
urine test I could come
up positive for grass?

        BAGELS
Add another charge to the
list, babe.

        SUSPECT
Yo, what’s your name,
brother?

        PUTTS
Putts, man. They call me
Putts ‘cause I’m always
practicin’. See I’m not
gonna spend the prime of
my life poppin’ mutts
you. I’m goin’ on the
PGA tour…

        SUSPECT
Just like Tiger Woods.

        PUTTS
No, man he’s a Johnny come
lately. I’m talkin’ about
Charley Sifford, Lee Elder.
They were the real
trailblazers, but you never
heard of them, did you?
(menaces the Suspect with
his putter)
You got no sense of history…

ACROSS THE ROOM

Conti and Sloan sit at facing desks.

        SLOAN
(on the phone)
It’s your son’s decision.
Every day he remains a
fugitive is another day
that’ll be held against him.

        CONTI
(whispers)
The sister in North Carolina.

        SLOAN
And if he’s hidin’ with his
sister she’s gonna be charged
with harboring a fugitive.
Your little grandbabies will
be in foster care while their
mama’s in jail…I’ll be
waitin’. Thank you…
(hangs up)
Poor woman. Scrubs floors
to take care of this kid
and he rips her off to buy
a load. You break your ass
for these kids and this is
how they thank you.
(as Keats walks in)
Hey Loo, how’s your back.

        KEATS
Achin’. This all I got
today, four guys?

        CONTI
Squires and Foster are
in court all day. Battle,
Kress and Novak had to
escort those two Crips
out to Corona…

        KEATS
‘Cause some new cases came
in during the night.
(calling)
Putts…Bagel…

Putts sinks a putt.. Bagels takes the bagel gently away from the suspect’ and cuffs his hands behind his back.

        BAGELS
Sorry pal, brunch is over.

IN BLACK…FIRE ENGINES, POLICE SIRENS…

        RADIO
Forty-one to Central…We’re
at the vehicle fire scene…

EXT. PROJECTS. DAY.

FIRE APPARATUS, AMBULANCE, RADIO CARS have responded. On the street ADULTS are taking the fascinated children away. A COP on a radio squints into the flames and sees the BODY of a MAN behind the wheel.

INT. KEAT’S OFFICE. DAY.

Keats and the four detectives going over the day’s work.

        KEATS
Vulvani TV was hit again last
night.

        PUTTS
It’s a scam.This Indian guy
who owns the store sells the
stuff, then bangs a hole in
his wall and says he was
ripped off.

        KEATS
Bring him in. Give him a
bagel.

        BAGELS
They got a great curry cream
cheese spread. He’ll love it.

        KEATS
I need a sensitive guy for
this one.

Everybody points to Sloan.

        SLOAN
Very funny.

        KEATS
This is a family matter.
IAD’s got film on Jerry
Burke and a fellow officer.

        CONTI
Male or female?

        KEATS
It’s a violation either way.
I need somebody to talk sense
to this kid. Unofficially.
Tell him the snitches are on
his case and he’s gotta
behave.

        CONTI
Who’s the girl?

        KEATS
I’m gonna protect her
identity. No need to smear
her name all over the place.

        SLOAN
I’ll talk to Jerry. He’s a
stand up kid.

        KEATS
Okay Sloan. Tell him to cover
his butt in more ways than
one. Who’s up?
(looks through the reports)
Female attacked, under the
boardwalk last night. Russian
girl, comes from Uzbekistan.

        SLOAN
Uzbekis aren’t ethnic Russian.
They’re predominantly Muslim.

        KEATS
Since you’re so up on your
geography. Mr. Sloan, you
take the case.

Conti glares at Sloan as Keats shuffles papers.

        KEATS (cont’d)
They found a black Lincoln
Navigator burning in front
of the projects. Body of a
man inside. .

        SLOAN
Barry Weiner has a black
Navigator,Bobby.

        CONTI
There’s a thousand black
Navigators around here.

        KEATS
Who’s Barry Weiner?
SLOAN
He’s got a fabric store on
Brighton First. Books bets
in the back. Right Bobby?

        CONTI
There’s a million Barry
Weiners in Brooklyn.

        KEATS
You know the guy,you got a
leg up on the case…

Conti rises glaring at Sloan.

CONTI
You’re Mr.Know-it-all today

        SLOAN
What’s the matter with you?

Conti walks out without answering. And Sloan turns to the others, who can barely conceal their laughter.

        SLOAN (cont’d)
What’s the matter with him?

END ACT ONE
12pt;”>Next: Act 1 (cont):

CONEY ISLAND BLUEFISH By Heywood Gould

I pitched a show about how cops deal with the new ethnically diverse New York.

The executives looked up from their blackberries…

Thought Coney Island–home to refugees from the former Soviet Empire a burgeoning Mexican population, Indians, Pakistanis, Hasidim, not to mention retired garment workers, Mafia holdouts, yuppies, hipsters and health nuts who want to be by the sea–would be a good arena.

The executives leaned forward in their chairs—a good sign.

Police precincts field sports teams that play other city departments and go to a state championship every year.

The executives had never heard of that.
“Great hook,” someone said.

I wrote the script. Joy was unconfined. We were on our way.

Then it was bounced down from the “upstairs.”

The verdict:
“Is he kidding?”

Enjoy
Best,
Heywood

Our first script was EMPIRES OF CRIME. Seven years in development was a six part mini-series commissioned by a broadcast network and later reacquired by a cable station.

Click on EMPRIES OF CRIME link below for the entire script.

EMPIRES OF CRIME

The story is about the founders of Organized Crime, Meyer Lansky, and “Lucky” Luciano, their fifty year partnership and the empire they created. Their friendships and families, lives and loves. It is also about their implacable enemy Thomas Dewey, a young Republican attorney who built a political career prosecuting the Mob that propelled him to the NY Governor’s Mansion and almost to the White House.

Movies You Will Never See/Coney Island Bluefish/Part 2

*For Introduction with submission guidelines go to April 4.

*Heywood Gould is the author of 9 screenplays including “Rolling Thunder,”Fort Apache, The Bronx,”Boys From Brazil”and “Cocktail.”

CONEY ISLAND BLUEFISH

By Heywood Gould

ACT ONE (Con’t)

INT. SLOAN’S BEDROOM.

Sloan moves carefully through the dark. His GOLD SHIELD glitters on the dresser. He bends to kiss Corinne.

        SLOAN
Tonight’s the night.

        CORINNE
(hugs him)
Ah, you tell that to all
the girls.

Sloan steps out of the room, blows a kiss an eases the door shut. He stops outside his son BRIAN’S room. The BLUE LIGHT of the COMPUTER is on. BRIAN, fourteen, is slumped in a chair. Sloan pries his fingers off the mouse and shakes him gently.

        SLOAN
Brian, go to sleep.

Brian stirs, reaches sleepily for Sloan’s hand.

        BRIAN
‘Night, dad.

And stumbles into bed.

Sloan goes to shut off his Computer. ON THE SCREEN IS a WEB PAGE put out by the ARYAN DEFENDERS. MILITIA PHOTOS, racist manifestos… Troubled, Sloan turns off the computer. As he walks down the stairs he hears FRANTIC WHISPERS.

ASHLEY

his seventeen year old daughter, is on the couch, rubbing her eyes, feigning drowsiness.

        ASHLEY
Hi Dad. Guess I must have
fallen asleep…

        SLOAN
Gimme a break. Come outta
there…

He reaches behind the couch and comes up with TYLER, Ashley’s bleached blond boyfriend. Tyler tries to laugh it off.

        TYLER
Hey, Mr. Sloan, how’d you
know I was here?

        SLOAN
Good detective work. Let’s
go, Tyler.

        ASHLEY
We weren’t doin’ anything,
Dad. You always think the
worst.

        TYLER
My parents like it when I
come here. They know I’m
safe.

        SLOAN
Not from me.
(holds the door for Tyler)
Out.

        ASHLEY
I’m not a little girl
anymore, Dad.

        SLOAN
As long as you’re living
under your mother’s roof
you’ll behave like one…

And closes the door.

INT. GARAGE. NIGHT.

Sloan kneels at the front wheel of his ‘93 Cutlass. He takes off the hubcap. His gun is taped to the inside of the wheel. Looking around furtively, he pries a loose slab off the garage floor and removes a forbidden PACK OF CIGARETTES. Lights one and breathes a sigh of contentment.

IN BLACK…6:28.09..DINER SOUNDS…OLGA on the radio.

        OLGA
(v.o., radio)
AC 1 to Central…We’re on
meal…

INT. VICTOR’S DINER. DAY.

Breakfast rush at a cop hangout. Olga and Burke sit in a booth, eating eggs.

        OLGA (CONT’D)
Of course she won’t talk.
You wouldn’t tell nobody
if you got raped.

        BURKE
It’s different for a guy.
A guy gets raped he’s
marked punk for life.

VICTOR, the mustachioed proprietor in grease spattered apron, slides a piece of chocolate cake in front of Olga

        VICTOR
For you, Olga. On the house.

        OLGA
You know we can’t take
freebies, Victor.

        VICTOR
This is not to a cop. It’s
man to woman. Me to you.
You need a little flesh.
Something to hold onto.

        OLGA
(shoves the cake at him)
Hold onto this.

        VICTOR
(retreating)
Can’t I express my feelings,
Olga?

        OLGA
Go shampoo your mustache.
(to Burke)
Look who thinks he’s a
lover.
(disgusted)
You men…

INT. SLOAN’S CAR. DAY.

A home away from home. A portable COFFEE MAKER under the glove compartment. A LAP TOP  open on the seat, giving the closing prices of the Nikkei. A TINY TV tuned to NY 1 for traffic news. Sloan sits in gridlock on the phone.

        SLOAN
You up?

INT. CONTI’S BEDROOM.DAY (CROSSCUT)

A CROSS over the bed, FAMILY PHOTOS on the wall. BOBBY CONTI, late thirties, dark, muscular, is on the phone. His girlfriend, BETTY, Latina, early twenties looks up, sleepily.

        CONTI
No, I’m talkin’ in my sleep.

        SLOAN
There’s more action in my
house than on Surf Avenue.

        CONTI
I told you not to move to
the boonies.

There is noise outside Conti’s bedroom. He jumps up in alarm as the DOORBELL RINGS and he hears “Daddy, open up…”

        CONTI (Con’t)
Oh jeeze my kids are here…

        SLOAN
(sentimental)
Danielle, Josephine, my
little nieces…

At the end of a long hallway Conti sees the door open on the chain. Sees his daughters clamoring “Daddy, let us in…” He runs back into the bedroom and grabs Betty.

        CONTI
C’mon baby, get up. My kids
are here.

        BETTY
So we ain’t doin’ nothin’
wrong.

        CONTI
You’re sleepin’ in their
mother’s bed.

        BETTY
Their mother don’t live
here no more, Bobby.  It’s
okay.

        SLOAN
You got somebody in there
with you?

        CONTI
Shut up, Donnie.
(disconnects and turns to Betty)
Please baby, just hide in
the closet, what’s the big
deal?

        BETTY
Why are you actin’ guilty?
You’re separated.

        CONTI
(pushing her into the closet)
I know, but I feel like I’m
doin’ somethin’ wrong, I
can’t help it.

He closes the door, slips into a pair of jogging pants and runs down the hall to open the door for:

DANIELLA AND JOSEPHINE

Ages fourteen and sixteen. Daniella, the younger sister, still in Catholic school middy skirt and blouse, Josephine, very chic in slacks and a backwards Yankee cap.

        DANIELLA
Daddy, what took you so long?

        CONTI
I was in the bathroom, honey.

        JOSEPHINE
We came to make you breakfast.

        CONTI
Your mother know about this?

        JOSEPHINE
Yeah. She said we’d better
come or you’d starve to
death.

        CONTI
Oh yeah, I can take care of
myself.

        DANIELLA
We just miss makin’ you
breakfast. We miss you.

        CONTI
(moved)
Aw honey…
(hugs them both)
You only live a coupla blocks
away.

        DANIELLA
I know, but we never see you
any more…

        CONTI
Hey, I got an idea. Let’s go
to Victor’s for breakfast.

        DANIELLA
Great. Like Sunday after
church.

        CONTI
Lemme just get dressed…

        JOSEPHINE
I’m drinkin’ coffee now, Dad,
so don’t go crazy.

He goes into the bedroom and opens the closet door where Betty stands fuming, pats her cheek and takes out a suit.

        CONTI
Hey, you’re a big girl, you
do what you want…

And closes the door.

IN BLACK…7:16:46. FIRE, the beating and hissing of FLAMES.

        RADIO
Report of car on fire 2330 Neptune…

EXT. PROJECTS. DAY.

FIRE fills the screen. A group of BLACK FIRST GRADERS with BACKPACKS watching as flames engulf a car parked at the curb.

EXT. SIX ONE. DAY.

The 61st. precinct. Green lights and gray stone, a weathered sign over the doorway. Hasn’t changed in fifty years. At seven thirty the tours are changing. OFF DUTY cops hurry out, ON DUTY COPS saunter in.

LIEUTENANT JOHN KEATS

early fifties,lean, gray and grimacing from back pain, enters the building as he has for twenty three years. Inside, a Babel of conflicting tongues. RUSSIANS screaming at each other, while a cop tries to keep them apart, a Hispanic cop translating the complaint of an elderly MEXICAN WOMAN for an impatient DESK SERGEANT. CHINESE, PAKISTANIS, all with a story to tell.  A few heads turn, a few cops greet him: “Mornin’ Loo…” “Hiya doin’ Loo?” His boss CAPTAIN NIEVES, trim and energetic and twenty years younger, calls…

        NIEVES
Get some popcorn, Keats.

        KEATS
(groans)
Oh no, not again.

He follows Nieves across the precinct into his office where CHANEY and FALK from the Internal Affairs Unit are waiting.

        KEATS  (cont’d)
Look who’s here, Lucas and
Spielberg.

        CHANEY
Just doin’ our job,
Lieutenant.

They kill the lights and focus a VIDEO PROJECTOR against the wall. There is a date, a time and then a VIDEO SURVEILLANCE shot of Olga and Burke making out in the squad car.

        FALK
Subjects were observed
consuming wine coolers
during their meal period.
They then proceeded to
this secluded spot where
they partially disrobed…

        KEATS
Did they turn their radio
off? Did they miss any
jobs?

        CHANEY
That’s not the point and you
know it. They were drinkin’
and screwin’ on the job. ..

        NIEVES
If you gentlemen will excuse
us.

Nieves motions to the men and they step to the door.

        KEATS
I got some pictures of you
two guys disrobin’ in the
back seat.

Falk steps forward, angrily.

        FALK
I don’t have to take this
crap from you.

        NIEVES
Goodbye.
(waits until the door is closed)
This goes right over my head
to Borough Command, Johnny.
I can’t squash it.

        KEATS
Can you smooth it? Put any
man in a car with Olga
Narvaez twelve hours a day
and somethin’s gonna happen.

        NIEVES
The woman pays the dues, so
it’s up to the woman to keep
everything on the up and up.

        KEATS
All the virgins are on
statues, boss. The girl is
gold. I’d rather have her
watchin’ my back than any
man in the precinct.

        NIEVES
Look we’ve been gettin’
whispers about Burke hangin’
with the drug dealers at the
Silhouette Club…

        KEATS
Jerry Burke is a tough kid,
Captain. He broke up a bank
heist last year…

        NIEVES
Tough kid ain’t enough
anymore, Johnny. This
precinct’s under a
microscope.
(points the street grid on the wall)
We got the largest percentage
of foreign born in the
country. And the most diverse.
Russians, Ukrainians,
Moldavians, Uzbekis, from
every part of the Soviet
Union. We got an influx of
Mexicans, Salvadorans.
Asian, Indian…We got the
blacks,the Jews the wiseguys,
who still run the neighborhood,
not to mention those damm
yuppies who call the cops
every time their toilets break…

        KEATS
You don’t have to tell me…

        NIEVES
In the next year we’re
gonna have every federal
agency you can think of,
takin’ pictures, interviews,
stats, measurin’ people’s
skulls, who knows what,
just to find out what makes
this area tick. We’re gonna
have to get into mulitcultural
policing. One rotten apple
like Jerry Burke and we’re
all out eatin’ pizza in
Staten Island.

        KEATS
Sounds like fun.

        NIEVES
Not for me, Johnny. I wanna
be the first Puerto Rican
Police Commissioner.

        KEATS
Scandal in your precinct
won’t help.

        NIEVES
We’ll let this sit for a
day. We’re gonna need
manpower tonight. Task
Force is busting a diamond
smuggler at the airport and
we gotta provide back up.

        KEATS
See, we’re shorthanded. We
can’t be dumpin’ people for
coppin’ a little nooky in
the back seat. Lemme just
break them up. Put a woman
in the car with Olga.

        NIEVES
What if she goes both ways?

        KEATS
We’ll sell tickets.

Next: Act 1 (cont):

CONEY ISLAND BLUEFISH By Heywood Gould

I pitched a show about how cops deal with the new ethnically diverse New York.

The executives looked up from their blackberries…

Thought Coney Island–home to refugees from the former Soviet Empire a burgeoning Mexican population, Indians, Pakistanis, Hasidim, not to mention retired garment workers, Mafia holdouts, yuppies, hipsters and health nuts who want to be by the sea–would be a good arena.

The executives leaned forward in their chairs—a good sign.

Police precincts field sports teams that play other city departments and go to a state championship every year.

The executives had never heard of that.
“Great hook,” someone said.

I wrote the script. Joy was unconfined. We were on our way.

Then it was bounced down from the “upstairs.”

The verdict:
“Is he kidding?”

Enjoy
Best,
Heywood

Our first script was EMPIRES OF CRIME. Seven years in development was a six part mini-series commissioned by a broadcast network and later reacquired by a cable station.

Click on EMPRIES OF CRIME link below for the entire script.

EMPIRES OF CRIME

The story is about the founders of Organized Crime, Meyer Lansky, and “Lucky” Luciano, their fifty year partnership and the empire they created. Their friendships and families, lives and loves. It is also about their implacable enemy Thomas Dewey, a young Republican attorney who built a political career prosecuting the Mob that propelled him to the NY Governor’s Mansion and almost to the White House.

 

Movies You Will Never See/Coney Island Bluefish/Part 1

*For Introduction with submission guidelines go to April 4.

*Heywood Gould is the author of 9 screenplays including “Rolling Thunder,”Fort Apache, The Bronx,”Boys From Brazil”and “Cocktail.”

CONEY ISLAND BLUEFISH

By Heywood Gould

ACT ONE

TITLES

IN BLACK…A DIGITAL READOUT: Monday 2;40.O1…O2…

AN OCEAN PRESENCE—wind whistling, waves breaking.

A FRIGHTENED WOMAN, sobbing breaths, stumbling footsteps.

A PURSUER..angrily overtaking her…

FADE UP

THE BEACH…

Coney Island. THE MOON GLITTERS on the OCEAN. The FERRIS WHEEL, CYCLONE, PARACHUTE JUMP gleam in the night. We see the lights of the restaurants and arcades along the boardwalk. The woman, ISMAILIA AKMHATOV, nineteen, dress torn, dark hair disheveled, struggles in high heels through the thick sand.Her pursuer KENNY LUPO, a short, black bearded, angry eyed, hood, gold chain glittering, twists her arm.

        LUPO
Little bitch,you think you
tease me for some drinks and
walk away?

        ISMAILIA
(Russian accent)
Let me go, I’m not what you
think.

        LUPO
You will be.


She tries to pull away and he smacks her hard in the face.

        LUPO (cont’d)
You want me to rip your
clothes and make you run home
naked to Papa? You want
Papasha and your brothers to
know where you were tonight?

Ismailia’s shoulders sag in despair.

UNDER THE BOARDWALK

in the glow of a trash can fire, HOMELESS PEOPLE watch as Lupo drags Ismailia into the darkness. CAMERA PUSHES IN…

IN BLACK…3:17.24..A POLICE RADIO sputters out a call…”Units AC 1 and 2.

POLICE RADIO

in the pocket of a pair of jeans on the floor of the back seat of an unmarked POLICE SEDAN

        RADIO
AC 1…You copy?

TILT UP past a PISTOL a SILVER SHIELD and a pair of black panties to back seat where OLGA NARVAEZ, dark, fiery, late twenties and JERRY BURKE, chunky, blonde, young, are doing the wild thing in a tight space. Burke curses. Olga rolls away and reaches for the radio.

        OLGA
AC 1, K….

EXT. NATHAN’S FAMOUS. NIGHT.

The RADIO is held to the ear of DEREK LAWKES, wiry, late ‘20’s. With the other hand he chomps on a HOT DOG and walks to the battered unmarked sedan where his partner, LESTER MARKHAM the Third, better known as THIRD, a black bodybuilder is eating a VANILLA CUSTARD CONE and listening to his radio.

        RADIO
…Witnesses report possible
sexual assault. Perpetrator
ran east on the beach…

        DEREK
Down for a little jog, Third.

        THIRD
Hate to eat and run…

The two pick their way through the boisterous WEEKEND CROWD on the boardwalk and jump over the rail onto the beach where they spot a GARBAGE TRUCK picking up trash cans.

        THIRD (cont’d)
Yo Derek, flag that limo
down.

They jump on the truck, shouting and roar down the beach.

EXT. UNDER THE BOARDWALK. NIGHT.

Olga kneels by Ismailia, who is lying in the fetal position on the sand.

        OLGA
Can’t help you if you
don’t talk to me.

ON THE BEACH

The homeless people scatter at the arrival of the cops, but Burke runs some of them down. He collars a YOUNG MAN.

        YOUNG MAN
(twisting away)
Leave me alone, I didn’t see
nothin’,

        BURKE
So who called the cops?

        RUSSIAN
(o.s.)
I did.

Burke sees a stocky RUSSIAN leaning over the boardwalk rail.

        RUSSIAN (cont’d)
I have the ice cream store
on the boardwalk. These
people came running and said
a man was beating a woman…

THE GARBAGE TRUCK

comes roaring up. Derek and Third leap off and join Olga who is calling for an ambulance.

        OLGA
Victim is bloody, bruised,
delirious. Possible sexual
assault…Hey Derek…

Burke runs up.

        BURKE
Nobody saw nothin’.

        DEREK
He must have run the other
way to Bay Four. Get anything
from the victim?

Olga shakes her head. The cops go under the boardwalk where she is lying, legs drawn up, head in the sand. Olga kneels by her.Takes her hand.

        OLGA
You’re safe now. We’re going
to take you to the hospital.

Ismailia raises her head with a look of inconsolable grief.

        ISMAILIA
No. Leave me here. Let me
die.

AN AMBULANCE pulls up on the beach, it’s FLASHING LIGHTS glaring into the lens, it’s BEEPING SIREN getting louder…

DISSOLVE TO

LIGHTS FLASHING, BEEPS BLASTING

PAN TO DONNIE SLOAN struggling through a nightmare, the lights and beeps are part of an alarm clock on his bed table… An ARM whips past his face and slams the clock. Now all is quiet. In the darkness, his wife CORINNE, raises up on an elbow and looks into his placidly sleeping face.

        CORINNE
Donnie…It’s 4 a.m.

Sloan awakens. He’s wiry, fair haired, late thirties…

        SLOAN
This alarm gives me
nightmares, but it don’t
wake me up.

Sloan rolls painfully out of bed and into the bathroom.

        CORINNE
They got a new one where a
jet of cold water is sprayed
on your face.

        SLOAN
So instead of a nightmare I
pee in my pants? No thanks.

Puts on the harsh BATHROOM LIGHT and grimaces at his reflection in the mirror.

        SLOAN (cont’d)
Gotta change these bulbs, I
look like I been dead for
three days.

And shuts off the light.IN BLACK…4:22.O6…..

        RADIO
(struggling with the
pronunciation)
Caller gives his name as
Shamil Abhakadanov. Says his
daughter is missing.

EXT, EMMONS AVENUE. NIGHT.

Under the harsh light of a streetlamp, SHAMIL ABHAKANDOV, in the sheepskin coat and embroidered cap of his native Uzbekistan, waits as the unmarked car rolls up. Derek and Third get out to meet him.

        RADIO (cont’d)
He’ll be waiting outside 111
Emmons Avenue…

Next: Act 1 (cont):

In a new department the Daily Event will reoffer some of these scripts. Read them and decide: would you like to have seen this movie?

CONEY ISLAND BLUEFISH By Heywood Gould

I pitched a show about how cops deal with the new ethnically diverse New York.

The executives looked up from their blackberries…

Thought Coney Island–home to refugees from the former Soviet Empire a burgeoning Mexican population, Indians, Pakistanis, Hasidim, not to mention retired garment workers, Mafia holdouts, yuppies, hipsters and health nuts who want to be by the sea–would be a good arena.

The executives leaned forward in their chairs—a good sign.

Police precincts field sports teams that play other city departments and go to a state championship every year.

The executives had never heard of that.
“Great hook,” someone said.

I wrote the script. Joy was unconfined. We were on our way.

Then it was bounced down from the “upstairs.”

The verdict:
“Is he kidding?”

Enjoy
Best,
Heywood

Our first script was EMPIRES OF CRIME. Seven years in development was a six part mini-series commissioned by a broadcast network and later reacquired by a cable station.

Click on EMPRIES OF CRIME link below for the entire script.

EMPIRES OF CRIME

The story is about the founders of Organized Crime, Meyer Lansky, and “Lucky” Luciano, their fifty year partnership and the empire they created. Their friendships and families, lives and loves. It is also about their implacable enemy Thomas Dewey, a young Republican attorney who built a political career prosecuting the Mob that propelled him to the NY Governor’s Mansion and almost to the White House.

 

Movies You Will Never See/Coney Island Bluefish/Introduction

 CONEY ISLAND BLUEFISH By Heywood Gould

For every movie that is released there are hundreds of scripts that were commissioned, “developed”, written, restructured—and rewritten; reconceived, redeveloped—and rewritten; restored to their original state and—rewritten; Acquired in “turnaround” by another production entity which redeveloped, reconceived, rewrote, rejected, rescued, restored and finally—shelved them.

In a new department the Daily Event will reoffer some of these scripts. Read them and decide: would you like to have seen this movie?

CONEY ISLAND BLUEFISH By Heywood Gould

I pitched a show about how cops deal with the new ethnically diverse New York.

The executives looked up from their blackberries…

Thought Coney Island–home to refugees from the former Soviet Empire a burgeoning Mexican population, Indians, Pakistanis, Hasidim, not to mention retired garment workers, Mafia holdouts, yuppies, hipsters and health nuts who want to be by the sea–would be a good arena.

The executives leaned forward in their chairs—a good sign.

Police precincts field sports teams that play other city departments and go to a state championship every year.

The executives had never heard of that.
“Great hook,” someone said.

I wrote the script. Joy was unconfined. We were on our way.

Then it was bounced down from the “upstairs.”

The verdict:
“Is he kidding?”

Enjoy
Best,
Heywood

Our first script was EMPIRES OF CRIME. Seven years in development was a six part mini-series commissioned by a broadcast network and later reacquired by a cable station.

Click on EMPRIES OF CRIME link below for the entire script.

EMPIRES OF CRIME

The story is about the founders of Organized Crime, Meyer Lansky, and “Lucky” Luciano, their fifty year partnership and the empire they created. Their friendships and families, lives and loves. It is also about their implacable enemy Thomas Dewey, a young Republican attorney who built a political career prosecuting the Mob that propelled him to the NY Governor’s Mansion and almost to the White House.

Readers are free to submit their own shelved scripts for publication.

With two conditions:

1. The scripts must have been commissioned or acquired by a producing entity.

2. The  writer must have full rights to the script.
The Daily Event legal department (non-existent) does not want a young Business Affairs attorney to pause the Coeds in Bondage video he is watching for the seventy-third time to write us a threatening letter.
Decisions of the judges will be final. Until, of course, they are reconceived, reconsidered, reexamined and—repeated.