*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.
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.
