Angels in Missouri
Cast
Abdiel, an Angel, split in two, good self, bad self.
Bartender. Will serve drinks, polish glasses. Never a reaction expression. Never a nod. Never says a word.
Comedian
Writer
A Couple, Man and Woman
Drunk Guy at bar
FBI agents walking back and forth—Wolf and Crosby
Clown, seated beside the bar, watching the stage
Throughout the film, there will be jumps to a black and white image of a pocket watch, counting down a final hour…
Scene 1: Outdoors, somewhere with a fire. Angel, shirtless, is talking to himself, literally, in two pieces. The two pieces rapidly begin to look different, one more pasty white, the other more ghoulish red. Both sweat, not so much from the fire, but from the split/tension.
Good Angel [looking at his split form]: This is kind of fun, like in an old cartoon. But I don’t think we’re supposed to split like this.
Bad Angel [agitated, pacing, throwing stuff in the fire]: Can’t drive my SUV of the gods without a guilt-trip. Lost my pension in the last big Babylon fiasco, my 401k crashed in Babel. Can’t drink my nectar without Chinese soot.
Good Angel: I like the old cartoons.
Bad Angel: Time for humans to admit it—the lease is up. It’s the big recall. Product out of date. New model on the way. Obsolete. The big sayonara. Adios. Big Chow with a purple tongue.
Good Angel: You sound like that angel in Dogma. I didn’t like that movie.
Bad Angel: Pandora’s Box. Gabriel’s marching orders. Humanity—“too big to fail”? don’t think so. [Throws something else combustible on fire.] I saved up some very special divine essence. Watch this—[Bad Angel draws paper with glittery writing out of fire. Lets Good Angel read it]: You want nervous? Be glad you aren’t human.
Good Angel [reads]: To Whom It May Concern: violation of lease: Humanity, found in violation of its Second Covenant, is hereby given Notice that said Covenant is to be dissolved, forthwith. No more rainbows. Apocalypse will immediatelyensure. Have a nice day.
Bad Angel [runs his hand over a pile of slushy white stuff, sort of runny cottage cheese…and an envelope smooths itself out…]
Good Angel: Not that you should, but why don’t you justsummon up Doom yourself?
Bad Angel: Dumbshit. There are rules for ending the world. I can’t just do it. Can’t just call in my stock options. Can’t justdevalue the currency, write new terms, change the interest rate. But humans can. One human yes. One human has to reach out and open this envelope. This lasts for one hour, plenty of time for humans to fall. It’s a done deal. Bank on it…
Scene 2: A bar. Will have a long wooden counter. A differentold dusty envelope tacked to the wall up behind the bar. An old-style juke-box off to one side. A stage, currently occupied by the Comedian. We will see the Comedian once or twice, but more often, hear one of his perfectly matched thematic jokes at key moments throughout. Clown is seated over to far right, only occasionally there in background. Bartender places the enveloppropped up on the center of the bar, leaning it against a napkin holder. We see the pocket watch start ticking the hour.
Comedian: [a couple jokes…]
Writer [yellow legal pad with him, and a large manila envelope. Sits at bar. Nods to Bartender.] Scotch, please. [Bartender fills glass, sets it in front of him. He keeps talking toward the Bartender who just stares.] Another rejection. [Taps the envelope.] Old-fashioned at that. They wanted a manuscript on paper. I can’t even just delete this one.
Comedian: [line overheard]
Writer: Listen to that. More escapist crap. This story… [pullsout a manuscript, titled “Zuzu’s Petals.”], this story would have given people a way to confront existential despair. It’s about a character who thinks through all the basic conditions of life, separates himself from all the distractions,
[Loud laughter from crowd listening to Comedian]
Writer: past the mass media, all the stupid pop songs, the TV shows where all human problems get solved in 30 minutes, minus commercial time…I just use that classic movie, It’s a Wonderful Life, which sets up the main guy in a careful reflection…
Comedian [a line of a beginning of some joke story filters through]:
Writer [distracted a bit, then shakes his head and tries not to listen]: so I created this tender, layered meditation… [takesstory and rips it up, scatters it on the floor.] I should have stayed in engineering. [Drinks, glances at the envelope on the bar, picks up the envelope, which now reads, “I’ll give you the moon.“ ] That’s funny. Remember what George Bailey said in that film? “What is it you want, Mary? What do you want? You want the moon? Just say the word and I'll throw a lasso around it and pull it down. Hey. That's a pretty good idea. I'll give you the moon...” [Stares at the envelope for a bit, we hear the Comedian’s voice…]
Comedian:
Writer [turns over the envelope, as if to open it, then hears finish of Comedian’s story…Writer tries to suppress a laugh, then doesn’t. Laughs, sets envelope down, takes his drink and goes off to stand in front of Comedian…]
Good Angel: That was funny. Hey, I know a joke. Want to hear it?
Bad Angel: I hate you.
[Couple passes Writer, they going to the bar and sitting about where he was. They get drinks. They sit facing each other, parallel to the bar. The envelope is propped up between them.]
[Pocket watch, further along in the hour, still ticking…]
Woman: I want to build castles
Man: Capitalist bullshit. I want to tear them down. We’ve got what we need to be happy.
Woman [snorts]: isn’t this where you say, ‘those clouds look like white elephants’?
Man: And I think you mean ‘hills,’ not ‘clouds.’ And you’re making me the girl in this story?
Woman: Depends on who you kiss
[Envelope: what he did last night.]
Man: [sips his drink, semi-quoting from story]: "It tastes like licorice, everything tastes of licorice.”
Woman [playing along inside the story]: "That's the way with everything."
Man [still in story-quote voice]: “that’s all we do, isn’t it….drink and say clever things.” [Woman doesn’t respond this time.] “We can go everywhere." [He pauses. Behind her, Drunk Guy comes and sits at the bar, receives a beer. He stares over at Woman.] "We can have everything…the whole world…”
Woman: Stop it. [Man doesn’t say anything.] I got you a dog.
Man: I want a kid to play with my dog. Maybe twins.
[Envelope: She’ll leave you the kid and take the dog. One more broken heart.]
Woman: The way I’ve been drinking this month, it probably already has 7 tentacles and a double-penis.
[Envelope: It’s a trap. He’ll never let you have a real career]
[Both of them reach for the envelope at the same time. Their hands touch. They look up at each other.]
Woman: Aw, my little honey-stick.
Man: Umm, my sweet jelly-belly…
Good angel: Whew, that was close!
Bad angel: Not close enough. If you weren’t me, I’d slap you up-side the head.
Good Angel: This reminds me of Pinky and the Brain. That was a good show.
Drunk Guy [mutters something inappropriate to Woman as she passes…Is ignored. Scoots over one seat, where Woman was (and envelope visible). Turns back talking to the Bartender, who just stares.] I knew a girl like that once. Didn’t work out. Our souls matched, but she just couldn’t keep up with me.
[Shift away from Drunk guy, as FBI agent Wolf talks to him—we won’t overhear that. Time for Comedian’s voice…]
Comedian:
[Pocket watch, further along in the hour, still ticking…]
Drunk Guy [Wolf moves away, Drunk Guy is angry. [[soliloquy, or to oblivious bartender…
[FBI agent Crosby sits at the bar, off to the left side. Drunk Guy doesn’t notice. Except that Bartender is occupied listening to Crosby and doesn’t respond to his request for another drink.]
Drunk Guy: What, am I cut off? FBI conspiracy now? I work all week for barely minimum and now I can’t even get a drink?
Drunk Guy [Picks up envelope, reads envelope aloud]: “Everything you’ve always wanted.” [He turns the envelope over and over, looking at it. Holds it up to the light. Knocks over his empty shot glass.]
Bad Angel: This is it! No more bail-outs. Humanity—foreclosed. Sell off that retirement house in Fort Lauderdale!
Drunk Guy: Bullshit. We make our own lives. [Rips envelopein half, tosses it on the floor, orders a shot.]
Bad Angel: Huh. Didn’t see that coming. [Grabs Good Angel.] Time for the old merger.
[Pocket watch slows, stops, near 5….]
Angel [now in a business suit, straightening his tie, wiping a last bit of white/red off his face]: Yeah. Humans. Knew they’d pull through. Just a little test. Good for ‘em, really…If I spin this right on my resume, I could still promoted… [Adjusts the rose in his pocket. A few feathers fall out of his suit sleeve.] Those will grow back.
Cast song:
The sun is hot and that old clock is movin' slow,
An' so am I.
Work day passes like molasses in wintertime,
But it's July.
I'm gettin' paid by the hour, an' older by the minute.
My boss just pushed me over the limit.
I'd like to call him somethin',
I think I'll just call it a day.
Pour me somethin' tall an' strong,
Make it a "Hurricane" before I go insane.
It's only half-past twelve but I don't care.
It's five o'clock somewhere.
Oh, this lunch break is gonna take all afternoon,
An' half the night.
Tomorrow mornin', I know there'll be hell to pay,
Hey, but that's all right.
I ain't had a day off now in over a year.
Our Jamaican vacation's gonna start right here.
Hit the 'phones for me,
You can tell 'em I just sailed away.
An' pour me somethin' tall an' strong,
Make it a "Hurricane" before I go insane.
It's only half-past twelve but I don't care.
It's five o'clock somewhere.
I could pay off my tab, pour myself in a cab,
An' be back to work before two.
At a moment like this, I can't help but wonder,
What would Jimmy Buffet do?
[last image, the pocket watch ticks on again, not quite at 5…]
No comments:
Post a Comment