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The Sandman Presents: Marquee Moon by Peter Hogan Second Draft (1997), Pages 9-16
PAGE NINE Panel 1. Medium panel: And now we move back, to the very back of the club, where two music-biz types are propping up the bar (but facing front i.e. watching the band). Both wear satin bomber jackets that are way too tight for them, with longish hair (permed or very neatly cut), one has a paunch and a double-chin. At least one of them has a gold necklace or medallion nestling in his hairy chest (the Bee Gees are a big fashion influence). Let's call them Les and Maurice—Les on the left, very blasé and world-weary, and about ten years older than Maurice (Les is well into his forties). And within a few feet of them (and obviously eavesdropping) is John Constantine. He's aged 23 at this point, and looks pretty much the same as nowadays but younger (short spiky hair, and let's give him an earring). As you probably know, Constantine was originally modeled on Sting, and this being the era that it is we should make him look as little like Sting as possible. This is a year or so before the Newcastle exorcism that goes hideously wrong and overshadows the rest of his life, so he's less cynical and a lot cockier at this point. And obviously a punk—leather trousers and some suitably arty T-shirt (maybe a headshot print of Aleister Crowley, or the slogan 'Do What Thou Wilt'); there's a very young punk girl (brunette or redhead) dangling on his arm, vying for his attention. LES: 'COURSE, IT WON'T LAST. LES: THE TRICK IS TO NIP IN QUICK AND MAKE A FEW BOB BEFORE THE WHOLE THING BLOWS OVER. Panel 2. Close-up of Les and Maurice, maybe seen from the other side of the bar with the club (possibly including the dancing Tamara and Judy) in the background. Maurice (if possible) nodding or gesturing towards the stage. And if you manage to squeeze Tamara in, we want her to remain extremely bouncy/animated for the rest of this scene. MAURICE: ARE THIS LOT SIGNED? LES: NOT YET, BUT THE BIG BOYS ARE ALL SNIFFING ABOUT. LES: WHAT WE NEED IS SOMETHING A BIT MORE SECOND-DIVISION THAT NO-ONE'S SPOTTED YET... Panel 3. Similar to panel 1 (but smaller, and a tighter focus): Les stroking his chin thoughtfully, Maurice (scowling) in profile facing Les, Constantine just in panel tapping Maurice on the shoulder (maybe the shoulder-tapping is a tiny insert panel). MAURICE: JESUS, LES—IF IT WAS THAT EASY... LES: MAYBE WE SHOULD CHECK OUT THE PROVINCES... MAURICE: OH, GOD—DO WE HAVE TO? CONSTANTINE: OI. 'SCUSE ME... Panel 4. Largish close-up of Constantine, jerking his left thumb off panel (i.e. towards the stage). Lots of arrogant/snotty attitude, cigarette dangling from lip. CONSTANTINE: YOU LOOKIN' FOR GROUPS, THEN? CONSTANTINE: ONLY I GOTTA GROUP. CONSTANTINE: AN' WE'RE BETTER THAN THIS LOT. Panel 5. Medium: a profile shot, of Constantine facing the duo. Maurice looking mildly amused by this upstart, but Les is politely deadpan and taking him perfectly seriously (after all, this kid might be talented, you never know). Constantine less cool here, more an eager puppy. LES: YEAH? WHAT'RE YOU CALLED? CONSTANTINE: MUCOUS MEMBRANE. CONSTANTINE: GOOD, EH? WE'VE SUPPORTED THE STRANGLERS, AN', AN.'..EVERYBODY. Panel 6. Small facial close-up of Constantine, looking at the business card he's just been given—disbelieving and delighted, and trying not to show it. MAURICE (off): OKAY—HERE'S MY CARD. MAURICE (off): LET ME KNOW WHEN YOUR NEXT GIG IS, AND I'LL COME AND HAVE A LOOK... PAGE TEN Panel 1. Smallish: Constantine really pleased, positively smirking, as he rejoins his punkette. PUNKETTE: WHAT YER GOT THERE, JOHN? CONSTANTINE: A RESULT, DARLIN.' Panel 2. Medium: In the foreground, Constantine is dragging his punkette off by the hand (he's smiling, determined; she's complaining). In the background (or to one side) we see Tamara pushing open the door to the womens' toilet. She's flushed and excited-looking. (ALISA: Constantine wouldn't look twice at her at this point, simply because she looks so straight and out-of-place in this crowd). PUNKETTE: WHERE WE GOIN'? CONSTANTINE: HOME. I GOT SONGS TO WRITE. Panel 3. Medium: Interior of the womens' toilet. Cramped and grubby, and pretty small—no more than three cubicles (though one would be enough for our purposes). Cracked porcelain sink, a filthy linen handtowel on a roll (one of those ones you used to have to jerk out of the machine, except this one's hanging loose at the bottom). The floor is filthy. Graffiti is basically sexual ("Tony T has a small cock"), feminist (the old Women's Lib symbol) or territorial ("Bromley!").Tamara is inside, starting to push open the door of a cubicle, which is currently almost shut i.e. very slightly ajar. Panel 4. Medium: The inside of the cubicle, from Tamara's viewpoint. Inside a couple of very young teenage punks are having sex (either up against a wall, or else she's straddling him while he sits on the seat). Both are more or less fully clothed, but have hoiked the relevant clothing up or down. I suppose you should be moderately discreet here, but we do want it to be obvious that they're having sex, and it should look extremely grubby and sordid and animalistic. PUNK or PUNKETTE: uh uh uh Panel 5. Small facial close-up of Tamara, flustered and blushing. TAMARA: oh. TAMARA: EXCUSE ME... PUNK or PUNKETTE (off): PISS OFF. Panel 6. Medium: Tamara exiting the toilet, still looking a bit shaken. Judy rushing up to greet her, dragging her boyfriend Ray behind her. He's aged about 19/20 i.e at least five years younger than Judy, and is very stylishly punk (though not as much as Constantine)—he's the drummer in a band. JUDY: THERE YOU ARE... JUDY: TAMMY, THIS IS RAY. PAGE ELEVEN Panel 1. Medium: Ray shaking Tamara's hand (very limp), Judy clinging onto Ray's other arm. Ray affably drunk (a beer in the hand of the arm that Judy's clinging to), Tamara a bit shy and muted (but still flushed), still a bit shaken by what she's just seen, Judy expansive. RAY: ALL RIGHT? TAMARA (small): Hi. JUDY: RAY AND I ARE GOING BACK TO HIS PLACE TONIGHT, SO WE'LL DROP YOU OFF AT MINE... Panel 2. Small close-up of Judy, quizzical and concerned. JUDY: HONEY, ARE YOU OKAY? Panel 3. Close-up of Tamara, still flustered but smiling in an embarrassed kind of way, maybe brushing hair back nervously. TAMARA: I'M FINE. IT'S JUST, I JUST SAW, I MEAN, THERE WERE THESE PEOPLE... TAMARA: OH, FORGET IT—IT'S NOTHING, REALLY. Panel 4. Small/medium: external shot of Tamara leaving Judy's flat, pulling the door shut with one hand while still pulling her coat on. It's still night-time (about 2 or 3 a.m.). CAPTION: SO I WENT BACK TO JUDY'S, BUT I COULDN'T STAY THERE—I FELT CAGED. I WAS DRUNK AND WIRED, AND IT FELT LIKE EVERYONE WAS HAVING SEX EXCEPT ME... CAPTION: THERE WAS NO WAY I WAS GOING TO SLEEP, SO I JUST HAD TO GET OUT... Panel 5. Medium profile shot of Tamara walking past a parade of shops (the one that runs from Victoria up to Buckingham Palace and St James' Park). She has her hands in her pockets, looks deep in thought. We don't need to see any other pedestrians, but you could stick in a couple of drunks making their way home if you wanted to. CAPTION: AS I WALKED ALONG I THOUGHT ABOUT JUDY, AND HOW DIFFERENT SHE WAS TO OTHER PEOPLE—AND TO THE PEOPLE. CAPTION: WE SPEND MOST OF THE TIME HIDING OUR WILDNESS, BUT SHE WAS PROUD OF HERS... Panel 6. Small-medium: a rear view of Tamara, running across an empty street towards the trees of the park. CAPTION: AND SUDDENLY WALKING JUST WASN'T ENOUGH. CAPTION: I HAD TO RUN... PAGES TWELVE AND THIRTEEN Scene change: we're into St James's Park, which can give us (at whichever point you choose) Buckingham Palace as a floodlit backdrop (seen through the trees). Let's have a Union Jack fluttering on the flagpole. It being January, the trees themselves will be bare. Above, the moon is near as dammit full (it's full in four days' time). And of course, the park is dotted with glowing lamp-posts, and the streets beyond the park (the Mall etc) are all brightly lit. In other words, it's dark but with pools of light. I leave it up to you how you structure this scene (which has now been expanded a bit) i.e. if you want to do it differently to how I've suggested, feel free. Panels 1 & 2 & 3. Is a transformation scene. There'll be another one before we're done, so you might want to read the whole script before deciding how to handle it here. Basically, we want it to be pretty obvious what's going on i.e. she's changing into a wolf. Presumably she has to strip her clothes off as well, but since most of my stories seem to involve girls getting undressed in the woods (and I think people are beginning to talk), maybe we can gloss over that aspect here. Half-girl, half-wolf is what we ideally want (but first panel could be human, last almost fully wolf). Panel 1. CAPTION: I'D NEVER FELT THIS ALIVE... Panel 2. CAPTION: AND IT WAS GOOD TO CHANGE... Panel 3. CAPTION: TO LET THE WIND RIPPLE THROUGH MY FUR... Panel 4. Largish panel: She's transformed completely. And the Tamara-wolf (who is, incidentally, very pretty. For a wolf, that is.) is running straight towards us, tongue hanging out like a lolloping hound-dog, chasing a terrified fox before her. CAPTION: AND TO CHASE A TRUE FOX FOR THE SHEER FUN OF IT. CAPTION: THOUGH I THINK I FRIGHTENED THE POOR THING ALMOST TO DEATH... Panel 5 Close-up: she's paused in her tracks, and is sniffing the breeze. Buckingham Palace here? With full moon? CAPTION: AND THEN I SCENTED HIM. CAPTION: A LONE MALE OF MY KIND, NOT FAR AWAY. AND YOUNG, FROM THE SMELL OF HIM. Panel 6. And she howls. She's standing, and her head is only slightly raised—don't make it the cliched head-right-back image. CAPTION: I DECIDED TO RISK A CALL... TAMARA-WOLF: WOOOOOOO CAPTION: AND HOPED IT SOUNDED MORE LIKE AN INVITATION THAN A CHALLENGE. PAGE FOURTEEN Panel 1. A large close-up: she looks forlorn (ears drooping), and those big brown eyes would break your heart. Make this two panels if you want (you should have room)—if so, make the first one a landscape shot (with her in silhouette), and the second one the close-up. CAPTION: THERE WAS NO ANSWER. CAPTION: HIS SCENT SOON FADED, AND I COULDN'T HELP THINKING... CAPTION: WAS I GOING TO STAY A DAMN VIRGIN FOREVER? Panel 2. Scene change. We're back in Judy's room, where Tamara is sitting up in bed (clothed) and looking very fragile indeed—puffy eyes and cheeks—dabbing at her reddish nose with a tissue. (We want her to remain slightly red-nosed and puffy-eyed for several scenes to come—the speed has indeed had a quite drastic effect on her. Dad did indeed know best!) The curtains are drawn, and lighting here comes from the screen of a small portable black and white TV (we only see the back of the set, balanced on the coffee table). Panel medium/large—make sure it's big enough for all the dialogue. CAPTION: THE NEXT MORNING MY SINUSES WERE KILLING ME, AND I WAS LIKE, THE LIVING DEAD. IT WAS SUNDAY, AND JUDY WAS OVER AT RAY'S ALL DAY, SO I JUST STAYED IN BED... CAPTION: SWEARING I'D NEVER TOUCH SPEED AGAIN. TAMARA: snnnf TV: AND NOW, OUR LATE NIGHT FILM—THE MARX BROTHERS' CLASSIC COMEDY... TV: ANIMAL CRACKERS. Panel 3. And another scene change: it's daytime, in the Kings Road near World's End, and Judy and Tamara are making their way towards Malcolm McLaren's shop Sex (which changed its name to Seditionaries later that month). They're coming from the direction of Sloane Square, on the same side of the street as the shop. And even though this is a ritzyish part of town (and was back then as well), I don't think it's stretching credulity too far to have a shop or two boarded up, and covered with large flyposters advertising albums that have just been released—in each case they'd be a variation of the album cover art, with the words 'out now' or 'their long awaited new album' inserted where appropriate at the top or bottom. You know the sort of thing. Now, none of these would be punk albums, for the simple reason that there weren't any at this point. So, you could have any or all of the following (all released December '76 and January '77): Arrival—ABBA A New World Record—ELO Wind & Wuthering—GENESIS Hotel California—THE EAGLES Atlantic Crossing—ROD STEWART Evita—ORIGINAL STAGE RECORDING A pretty dire bunch, which should underline exactly why punk was necessary (apart from Abba, bless 'em). Doubtless some of these posters have been cosmetically altered by local wits i.e. 'Evita' IS SHIT. Good luck with tracking down the relevant album sleeves (no, I do not own any of them)—if all else fails, bribe a record shop to let you photograph them. Whatever you don't use here can be used for other street scenes later on, so bear that in mind (because I'm not going to repeat the list again). Anyway, what we want here is a largish, longish shot of the two girls strolling along. Tamara is still in the same nerdy clothes; Judy wearing a tight black sweater and leather or rubber pencil skirt, under a flowing 1970s-cut fur coat. Remember to have flared-trousered disco boppers, tourists, Bay City Rollers' fans and drab and dreary old dears among the passers-by. It being a Monday, there won't be too many of them, but every time we have a street scene we want to reinforce how stupid everyone else looks. It's lightly snowing. Tamara still slightly red-nosed (and will be until she stops doing this stuff). CAPTION: NEXT DAY JUDY FINISHED 'WORK' EARLY, AND DRAGGED ME OUT SHOPPING IN THE KING'S ROAD. I STILL FELT LIKE DEATH WARMED UP, AND PRETTY SORRY FOR MYSELF... CAPTION: SO I MADE THE MISTAKE OF TELLING HER ABOUT MY PROBLEM. JUDY: REALLY? STILL? JUDY: ARE YOU TRYING TO SET A WORLD RECORD OR SOMETHING? PAGE FIFTEEN Panel 1. Two-shot: Tamara shuffling, hands in pockets, embarrassed but darting a defiant glance in Judy's direction. Judy all ears. TAMARA: YOU MAKE ME SOUND LIKE SOME OLD MAID. IT'S NOT THAT BAD. TAMARA: IS IT? Panel 2. Similar: Judy, probing. Genuine affection here—she regards Tamara as a younger sister. JUDY: hmmm. SO, WHAT'S THE PROBLEM? Panel 3. Tamara gesturing broadly with one hand. They're nearing the SEX shop. PETER: make the most of that stuff we saw. (When Peter and I went to have a look at this stretch of road so he could get reference shots, we discovered something I'd never noticed before and could not have invented: McLaren's shop was/is right next door to the Chelsea Conservative Club. In short, it was practically a sitcom: my punk next door). You could have a poster of Thatcher up in one of their windows... TAMARA: I DUNNO. I JUST...HAVEN'T MET ANYONE SPECIAL YET. TAMARA: AND I KEEP THINKING, WHAT IF I DO IT WITH SOME GUY—JUST BECAUSE—AND HE TURNS OUT TO BE A JERK? Panel 4. Medium: Judy dragging Tamara into SEX (which is a pretty small shop which you can go and visit—it still belongs to Vivien Westwood). Above the door, the shop sign reads S E X in big letters, each of which has been wrapped in some kind of material (rubber or vinyl is my guess). Hopefully there's reference somewhere of the shop front—I'd imagine the window display (if there was one) would be (a) minimal and (b) bizarre—a bondage mask (except we've already used that) or something similar. JUDY: HONEY, THEY'RE ALL JERKS...OR MOST OF 'EM, ANYWAY. TAMARA: WHY ARE WE GOING IN HERE? JUDY: BECAUSE WHAT YOU NEED IS A WEAPON. Panel 5. Similar: the duo exiting the shop. Tamara bringing up the rear, pleading/whingeing, a bit shocked and also a bit scared—the dress they've just bought is giving her stagefright, as it were. Judy in the lead, confident and supportive and smiling broadly, toting a large carrier bag (in bright pink?) with SEX printed on its side. CAPTION: AND TEN MINUTES LATER, SHE'D TALKED ME INTO BUYING THIS DRESS. TAMARA: MAYBE WE SHOULD TAKE IT BACK. I MEAN, I CAN'T WEAR IT IN PUBLIC... JUDY: DO YOU WANT GUYS TO NOTICE YOU OR NOT? Panel 6. And scene change: interior; smallish. We're in the hallway of a large but dilapidated house. Hallway jammed with coats on hooks, battered old pushbikes etc. Judy in the lead still, holding a front door key and calling out happily; Tamara bringing up the rear, curious and frowning slightly. CAPTION: SO I KEPT THE DRESS. OUR NEXT STOP WAS THIS SQUAT WHERE RAY LIVED... CAPTION: AND EVEN THOUGH MY SENSE OF SMELL WAS STILL KIND OF BLURRY, THE MINUTE WE WALKED IN THERE, I PICKED UP A SCENT I ALREADY KNEW. JUDY: RAY-AY? PAGE SIXTEEN Panel 1. Very large panel: we're entering a large living room, whitewashed badly or painted in really vivid colours (i.e. whatever paint these chaps have managed to steal) and furnished in early grunge. There's a couch and a couple of armchairs (none of which match), a ratty carpet that covers about half the floor, an upturned beer or milk crate being used as a table, and a lot of domestic boy-clutter: chipped coffee mugs, piles of dogeared copies of the NME, ashtrays overbrimming with ciggie butts, crushed beer cans, plectrums, socks, empty vodka bottles, etc., etc. We also need there to be a phone here (it'll be important later on)—an old fashioned black phone with dial, lying on the floor with its lead snaking across the carpet. Pinned/taped up on one wall is the front page of an old Daily Mirror, the headline of which reads: 'The Filth And The Fury.' Stack of albums propped up along one wall—Bowie's Low and a lot of reggae (Lee Perry, Culture's Two Sevens Clash, the soundtrack of The Harder They Come, Bob Marley & the Wailers' live album)—all this near a bulky but extremely cheap 1970s stereo (with plexiglass lid) from which emanate a few small musical notes. We don't have to see them here, but up one end of the room—or more likely, this is two large rooms knocked through to make one big one—is a drumkit (pretty minimal/basic), some practice-amps and speakers, with battered guitars (six-string and bass) leaning up against them. A mike stand running through the same amp as one of the guitars. Lounging about in the sofa/chair area are four young guys. Most are sitting, others can be doing anything you want (rifling through records, or wandering about the room). Most of them are at least half-registering the entrance of Judy (with Tamara right behind her). One is Ray, one is Ray's half-brother Jimmy (aged fifteen, short hair, jeans and a T-shirt that reads: Blank Generation. He's kind of latched onto Ray's lifestyle). The two other guys are both about Ray's age. One is Vic, who's mean, moody and magnificent—dark-haired, good-looking and knows it, leather trousers, a poser-cum-guitar-hero. A younger, better-looking Pete Farndon (one of the original line-up of The Pretenders). He's stretched out full-length on the sofa, reading a copy of the NME (you could probably get away with just showing the logo when we get to a close-up of him). And our final chap is the bassist, known as The Weasel, who has ginger hair cut extremely short (a punk crop), which makes him look quite severe/hard. It'll grow out somewhat in the weeks to come (to a fuzzy bogbrush), softening his face in the process. As it is, he's the least attractive member of this bunch—not hideous, just a bit idiosyncratic (I mentioned the name Billy Bragg to Peter—not as a face to copy, just as a 'type'). Wearing a ratty T-shirt that reads: Born To Be Vile. Judy's waving/gesturing vaguely in his direction. CAPTION: ONE OF THESE GUYS WAS MY FRIEND FROM THE PARK. STEREO: a few musical notes. JUDY: HIYA. THIS IS MY FRIEND TAMMY, EVERYONE. JUDY: TAMMY, YOU KNOW RAY—AND THAT'S HIS KID BROTHER JIMMY. JUDY: THE GUY ON THE SOFA IS VIC, AND THE OTHER ONE'S KNOWN AS THE WEASEL. CAPTION: BUT WHICH ONE? THE DRUGS HAD ROYALLY SCREWED WITH MY NOSE, AND IN THIS FORM I JUST COULDN'T TELL. Panel 2. Smallish: Tamara is impressed, perching on the edge of an armchair (maybe just vacated by Ray, who is kissing Judy in the background).Tamara also dabbing at nose with a tissue. ALISA/NEIL: No reason why Tamara shouldn't have a brother who we don't actually see—it means a character kept up-the-sleeve for someone to draw on someday. TAMARA: ARE YOU GUYS IN A BAND? JUDY DIDN'T TELL ME... TAMARA: snnff TAMARA: MY BROTHER'S IN A BAND. Panel 3. Small two-shot, similar poses: Ray pleasant and politely curious; Tamara matter-of-fact, looking up at him. RAY: YEAH? WHAT KIND OF STUFF DOES 'E PLAY? TAMARA: OH, COVERS MOSTLY—BOSTON, FOREIGNER, BANDS LIKE THAT... Panel 4. Small close-up of the Weasel, sneering/scowling. THE WEASEL: SHIT, IN OTHER WORDS.
Thanks to Peter Hogan for providing the script and artwork, Peter Doherty and Hogan for answering my interview questions, and Adrian Brown at the Voices From Beyond forum for helping make it possible. An excerpt of this script originally appeared on John McMahon's Straight to Hell site. | |||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||
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