Daily Archive for January 7th, 2013

MOVIES YOU WILL SEE/The Journey of Natty Gann/Part 8

THE JOURNEY OF NATTY GANN
by
Jeanne Rosenberg

EXT MIDWEST FARM COUNTRY DAWN

The freight train out of Chicago RUMBLES down the tracks, past the broad, flat fields of corn and soybeans waving in the breeze.

The yellow beam of the freight’s headlight cuts a streak through the soft glow of the approaching day.

INT BOXCAR MORNING

A WHISTLE BLOWS several times.

Natty’s eyes blink open.

She looks around the boxcar. The three tough looking hobos are gone. There’s only Harry at the far end, playing a TUNE on his harmonica. She stares at him, listening to his song.

Finally Harry notices Natty’s stare and he stops playing, abruptly, as if caught in a wrongdoing.

Natty tries to smile at him but his look to her is hard.

        NATTY
That was nice.

Harry’s look softens. He shrugs modestly then bangs the harmonica on his knee and stuffs it deep in his pocket.

Natty looks around the car again, questions in her eyes.

        NATTY
Where’d they go?

        HARRY
Nowhere. Anywhere.

Natty nods, trying to act like she understands.

        NATTY
Where are you going?

Harry shrugs again, as if the question had such little meaning he hadn’t thought of it before.

        HARRY
West.

        NATTY
Me too. My Dad’s out West.

        HARRY
Yeah?

        HARRY
What part?

        NATTY
Uhhh…The middle.

Harry doesn’t express his doubt verbally but it’s all in his eyes. His next, question is more a statement of fact than anything.

        HARRY
You’re running away, huh? On
the lam?

Natty looks anxious. There’s a defensive edge in her voice.

        NATTY
What makes you say that? I
didn’t say that.

        HARRY
You didn’t have to.

Natty folds her arms over her chest and turns away.

        HARRY
You better wise up if you expect
to make it.

        NATTY
I’ll do alright, Mr. Know It
All.

Harry smiles to himself.

The WHISTLE BLOWS. The train begins to slow.

Harry walks to the edge of the boxcar and stares out through the open door. He talks to Natty without looking at her.

        HARRY
Don’t let the Bulls get you.

        NATTY
What!?

        HARRY
Railroad cops.

        NATTY
You think I don’t know that?

Natty gets to her feet and walks confidently up to Harry at the open door of the boxcar. She looks down at the fast moving ground below and her confidence falters. Harry senses it.

        HARRY
Bend your knees. Roll with it.

        NATTY (defensively)
Natch.

The WHISTLE BLOWS again.

Harry jumps. Natty takes a deep, anxious breath and follows. She hits the ground and rolls down the embankment end over end.

She gets to her feet and brushes the dust from her clothes. She turns to Harry with a broad smile, very proud of herself. But he’s not there.

She looks up and down the tracks. She bends to look under the slow moving train. But there’s no trace of him. Harry’s gone.

Natty’s face reflects her disappointment. She looks up and down the tracks wondering what to do now.

EXT BASE CAMP LATE DAY

Base Camp is an elaborate tent city high in the mountains of Washington State.

It’s crowded with MEN and machinery. Dirt roads crisscross the area and each tent has a sign on it…MESS HALL, MAIL ROOM, etc.

It feels like an army field camp.

INT TENT LATE DAY

Sol sits at a makeshift desk in a small, army-styled tent at Base Camp. There are several cots in here and tables with kerosene lamps.

Sol is deep in thought as he hunkers over a piece of paper, drafting a letter.

He puts down his pen and re-reads the letter, an anxious, troubled look in his eye.

Then he shrugs off his doubts, smiles and stuffs the letter in an envelop addressed to Natty Gann, St. Ritz Hotel, Madison Street, Chicago.

EXT DES MOINES DEPOT DUSK

Natty wanders the backside of the Des Moines train station, alone.

She rummages through the garbage behind the Depot Grill and finds the remains of a slightly moldy, half eaten salami.

She looks at it distastefully then closes her eyes and forces herself to take three quick bites, wrinkling her face and holding her nose as she chews. She swallows and shrugs. It’s not so bad once you get used to it.

She stuffs the rest of the salami in her pocket and turns toward the hobo fires just beginning to flicker in the darkening twilight of the rail yard ahead. She notices a CROWD gathering in the shadows of the Roundhouse.

END PART 8
Part 9 Monday, 1/14/12

A script analysis of her favorite childhood novel – written as a USC class assignment – led Jeanne Rosenberg to her first Hollywood writing assignment on The Black Stallion. Switching from documentary filmmaker to narrative screenwriter, Jeanne studied her craft while working as a script supervisor on numerous films before completing her first original screenplay, The Journey of Natty Gann. She has been writing as well as producing and directing ever since. In addition, Jeanne has taught graduate screenwriting at USC and National University.

MOVIES YOU WILL SEE/The Journey of Natty Gann/Part 7

THE JOURNEY OF NATTY GANN
by
Jeanne Rosenberg

INT ST. RITZ HALL/NATTY’S ROOM NIGHT

Natty BANGS on the door of her room from the inside and YELLS through it as Sally stands on the outside, holding it closed with her fist, pulling against it with her weight.

Sally takes a key from her pocket and jams it into the lock.

NATTY (VO)
You can’t do this Sally. You
can’t. I’11 tell my Dad !

SALLY
When? When you going to tell
him, huh?

NATTY (VO)
Soon.

SALLY
Couldn’t be soon enough for me.

NATTY
Me either!


Sally locks the door, puts the key back in her pocket and moves away from Natty’s room, walking down the stairs, muttering to herself.

SALLY
I’m not the kid’s God damned mother.
I mean why the hell should I get stuck? Who needs
this aggravation?


INT NATTY’S ROOM NIGHT

Natty wiggles the locked door handle then listens through the door, the puppy watching her anxiously.

NATTY
Sally?…Sally!?


She listens again, even harder, then pulls her ear away from the door, takes a knife from her pocket and jams it into the lock, jiggling it up and down until she hears a click.

She quickly pulls the door open and sneaks into the hall, tiptoeing to the top of the stairs.

INT ST. RITZ LOBBY NIGHT

Natty crouches in the shadows, watching below as Sally, still muttering to herself, walks to the reception desk, grabs the telephone and dials a number.

SALLY
Hello? Child Relations Board?
I want to report an abandoned
kid. Yeah, yeah. All alone.
You better send somebody right
away.


Natty scurries quickly back down the hall and disappears inside her room.

EXT ALLEY NIGHT

A makeshift rope of tied together sheets and blankets flies down from the top window of a brick building and dangles above a narrow alley.

A small figure in a leather jacket and cap, Natty, climbs out the window and scales down the side of the building using the rope.

She leaps from end of the rope to the pavement, 6 feet below, and as soon as her feel touch ground, she takes off at dead run.

INT PUSH CART BARN NIGHT

Natty hurries into the dark barn and slides through the
shadows, her eyes drinking in the hovering, forbidding shapes of this very spooky place.

She knocks into a push broom which CLATTERS to the floor.

The NOISE disturbs bats in the rafters overhead and they swoop down with FLAPPING wings. Natty GASPS and ducks, covering the top of her head with her arms as the bats swish past.

Natty takes a deep breath and pushes forward. She finally makes it to Lefty’s cart.

She pulls the puppy from her jacket and scratches his ears as she lifts him to the top of the cart. He licks her face.

NATTY
You stay here.


She turns to go but the puppy leaps from the cart and starts to follow.

Natty picks him up and returns him to the cart. She takes the end of a rope tied to the wheel of the cart and loops it around the puppy’s neck.

She pets his head one last puppy BARKS and pulls on his rope. He wants to follow.

Natty turns back.

NATTY
I can’t take you. Understand?
You gotta stay with Lefty.


The puppy lies on the ground and rests his head on his front paws. His big, sad, brown eyes watch her as she moves across the barn. He WHINES a soft, mournful tone as she disappears.

EXT RAILROAD YARD NIGHT

Natty hovers in her hiding place of discarded boxes and barrels near the railroad tracks. She feels frightened and alone and very unsure.

It’s not cold but she shivers with anxiety, her eyes darting fearfully back and forth, tracking the darkness around her.

In the distance she hears a faint RUMBLING. She peers from her hiding place. There’s a train coming down the tracks. It’s moving slowly toward her, heading West.

From all around her, H0B0S, lean, tough looking men, emerge from nooks and crannies and get ready for the train.

She studies their techniques as they sprint forward, run beside the train and throw themselves into the open boxcars.

She wants to try it but shers scared. Lefty’s stories ring in her paralyzing her.

Finally she takes a deep gulp and makes a break for it.

She streaks from her hiding place, races for a boxcar and stretches with everything she has. She manages to catch a handle with her fingertips and to pull herself part way into the car.

The train moves faster, picking up speed.

Natty’s legs dangle dangerously over the edge.

The metal wheels grind mercilessly, menacingly on the tracks below. The ground rushes by. The sound of the wheels becomes a terrible ROAR in her ears.

She slips backwards.
She Looks desperately at the hobos inside, reaching out to then.

Three TOUGH, HARD LOOKING MEN stare back at her with uncaring eyes. None of them moves forward to help her.

She slips again, her fingernails clawing frantically across the wooden floor, scraping against the wood. She inches over the edge toward certain death.

INT BOXCAR NIGHT

A DARK FIGURE reaches down and grabs the falling Natty. In one move, she’s pulled into the boxcar and flung to the far side.

She lands with a BANG against the wall, gasping for breath. She stares up at her savior, HARRY SLADE; a lean, square jawed young man with deep, penetrating, electric blue eyes and a harder-than-nails exterior.

His face breaks into a wry, warm smile .

HARRY
You can get hurt that way.


She tries to answer, to thank him for saving her life, but she can barely speak. She can’t find her voice.

HARRY
But you didn’t.


Harry winks at her before moving to the far end of the car and hunkering in the shadows.

Natty stares at him. He’s a curious combination of power and vulnerability. He’s only 16 or 17 but like a young James Dean, already carries the edge of someone who’s spent years on the outside, a loner.

Natty turns to the other hobos. They stare back at her and their looks send a shiver down her spine.

HOBO 1
Thought you bought the farm.

HOBO 2
Wouldn’t have been much left.


They LAUGH and Natty’s eyes grow wide as saucers. She tries to swallow the lump in her throat.

Harry’s voice calls out from the shadows.

HARRY
Leave the kid alone.

HOBO 1
Shee-it. We was just funning.


Natty turns to Harry. For a moment their eyes lock. Then the train moves away from the lights of the Chicago yard and the car grows dark.

The NOISE from the train pounds in Natty’s ears . Her teeth slam against each other with each jostle of the boxcar. She pulls her jacket tight around her.
END PART 7

Part 7 Monday, 12/03/12

A script analysis of her favorite childhood novel – written as a USC class assignment – led Jeanne Rosenberg to her first Hollywood writing assignment on The Black Stallion. Switching from documentary filmmaker to narrative screenwriter, Jeanne studied her craft while working as a script supervisor on numerous films before completing her first original screenplay, The Journey of Natty Gann. She has been writing as well as producing and directing ever since. In addition, Jeanne has taught graduate screenwriting at USC and National University.