Showing posts with label independent. Show all posts
Showing posts with label independent. Show all posts

Wednesday, 19 October 2016

Patrick White Playwrights’ Award 2016

...Thank you for applying for the Patrick White Playwrights’ Award 2016. We have now received your online application and script.

The judging panel will have selected the winner of the Award by May 2017, at which point we will advise you of the outcome of your entry.

Please note that the judges’ decision is final and no correspondence or discussion will be entered into. We also regret that we are unable to provide individual feedback to your submission...



Saturday, 1 October 2016

A fantasy novel I am working on...

Where dense forest joined water on the outskirts of Forest Blakt, I crouched. I stared unblinking out into the Waterfalls of Lake Neb, focused on any movement among the cascades. Lined with jagged rocks and algae that waggled beneath surging water, the Skyggen prince Azrayh stood motionless under the deluge, his lean and pale body almost luminescent under the glow of the moon. Frightened that any movement could scare away my prince, I watched him carefully, as I had since he’d surfaced when the sun disappeared beneath the horizon some hours ago. I’d been waiting for the young Skyggen to lift his head and take a breath, but Azrayh remained as he had, a drowned water statue.
‘Azrayh,’ I whispered finally, desperate for my lover’s return. Impossibly, he snapped to attention, his amber eyes finding mine in an instant. He dove into the water and surfaced just metres away. I could almost touch him. I edged closer but he stayed just out of reach, his wings slowly undulating the water, gazing vacantly at me. His eyes, once bright and filled with curiosity, were empty and hollow, devoid of the passion he’d once had. I could have sworn there was a faint blue tinge to his skin, he’d never been quite so pale, his scars transformed into translucent purple veins about his flesh.
Stepping into the muddied edges of the lake, viscous darkness engulfed my legs to the ridge of my black boots as I waded further into the water – closer to Azrayh. I reached out to collect him into my arms but he frowned and backed out of reach with a flick of his wings. In the water he was faster. He smiled at me, as if this was a game, lifting a svelte arm and holding it out for me.  I grasped it before he could change his mind. With a strength I had never imagined he dragged me down into the water, laughing as I was doused up to his chest, soaking my clothes through.

I threw my arms around his naked waist for an instant before recoiling so violently I smashed backwards into the surrounding banks of rock. His skin was ice cold, even in the tepid water. The void that embraced me when I held him was endless. Desperate I pressed my hand against his chest. ‘What’s happened to you?’ I withdrew. ‘How long have you been out here?’

‘Swim with me pretty,’ he cooed, ignoring my questions. ‘I will show you sights of this world unknown to the—’

‘Azrayh, do you know who I am?’ He wasn’t there.

He laughed delightedly and for a moment I allowed myself to indulge. That laugh. But it wasn’t him. He wasn’t there. ‘Of course I do… You are beautiful…’ He ran a finger down my cheek. I could see the green tinge of algae collected in his long nails, and he reeked of the depths, of coral and darkest caverns. All familiarity I once knew – gone. ‘I would show you a world that mirrors—’

‘Come with me!’ Angered at the unfairness of life, I hauled my lover from the water. 

Azrayh shrieked as he hit the rocky banks, water running in rivulets down his torn and scarred leathers – last remnants of the proud armour he’d once donned.

I collapsed next to him, my hand on the Skyggen’s chest holding him against his will, with strength and incantation. ‘Your heart is not yet cold,’ I warned. ‘You are not yet of the deep. Please fight it Azrayh. Please.’ The fear of losing my lover was too real.

Saturday, 28 May 2016

The Hands of Goodna Cemetery

Based on True Accounts.

1. EXT. GOODNA CEMETERY – NIGHT

A battered P-plate car pulls up next to a large fenced-off cemetery. There are few street lights but the moon is full and high, bathing the cemetery with spooky shadows - it certainly doesn’t look like a nice place to be after dark.

There are large trees and neat gravesites but furthest from the road the trees become denser and the gravesites more tattered –paths less trodden.

DANNY (18) football superstar, and LOLA (17) wannabe cheerleader, climb out of the car, giggling.

Danny struts over to the passenger side and embraces Lola in a bear hug. Looking around, Lola is not impressed.

LOLA: I didn’t think you were for real, bringin’ me ‘ere.
DANNY: Are you kiddin’? It’s tradition.

He pokes her playfully but Lola pulls away, her arms wrapped around her own body. It’s not cold but something has chilled her.

DANNY (CONT’D): Come on bae it’ll be a laugh, an’ you’ll get to tell your squad about how I took ya “down to Goodna”.

LOLA (groaning): How romantic!

The headlights of a car round a bend and approach from a distance.

DANNY: Quick!
She gives in to him as he pulls her towards the fence where he lifts her over in one simple movement and with little effort he scales the fence himself.

He grabs her hand and together they flee deeper into the cemetery. Shadows seem to reach after them.

2. EXT – GOODNA CEMETERY – CONT’D


Lola’s giggles ring out through the night as Danny catches her in an embrace and backs her into a large tree. His hands are all over her.

DANNY: It’s said… (he begins nibbling her neck) …that this cemetery was used by the ol’ Woogaroo Asylum and there are hundreds of headstones identified only by numbers… The grave digger died before he could put up a plaque so all the names are lost.
She ducks out of his grasp.

DANNY (CONT’D): It’s them that haunt here at night, wandering ‘round, wonderin’ who they are.

LOLA: Haunted? For real?

She glances around, wondering… the trees becoming sinister and more claw like reaching long tendrils down towards the pair…

DANNY: Uh huh. Last weekend Jase covered his car in flour – like the ghost hunters said – and drove down Stuart Street, not even IN here. When he got home there were hundreds of fingerprints all over his car as if something had been clawing to get in… I swear, true story.

LOLA (laughing): He covered his car in flour?

DANNY: His mum was well pissed. Might be that ghosts don’t want no one to be here?
They hold hands, meandering down a twisting path. Danny’s other hand wanders over her body until…

DANNY (CONT’D): BOO!!!

He grabs her waist suddenly and she startles.

LOLA (laughing): Jerk…! Oh look.
Ahead, highlighted in the moonlight, they come across diminutive headstones, barely a foot tall, at least fifty in a neat semi-circle, and numbered – impersonal to the people they represented.

LOLA (CONT’D): That’s so sad…

She drops down onto her knees in the leaf litter. One of her hands runs over a headstone, her fingertips tracing the number.

LOLA (CONT’D): …to be forgotten… You won’t forget me like that? I’m not just another girl you bring down ‘ere?

DANNY: You bae, how could I forget you?

She smiles, content for now, as he leans down to kiss her. She allows it, his hands moving over her body – under her shirt, up the legs of her shorts. He crawls on top of her, resting her gently back on the ground and gyrating his groin against hers. She moans.

LOLA: Oh, Danny. Oh Danny! Ow Danny. Ow. DANNY!

As her moans turn to cries she scrambles away from him.

DANNY: What?!

He stands up, adjusting himself, miffed at the rejection.

LOLA: Something was pinching me.

She rubs her upper arm and he laughs at her.

LOLA (CONT’D): For real, it kills!

DANNY: Lemme look.

She moves over to him but the light is too poor to make anything out. He rubs her shoulders placating her instead. He kisses her ear.

DANNY: Don’t worry. (Whispering) I’ll protect you from the grabby ghosts.

LOLA: Maybe it’s them protecting me from you?

She sticks out her tongue and escapes down the path, deeper into the cemetery where the graves are more spaced out, more elegant and more run down.

DANNY (calls): You don’t need protecting from me bae. Well, maybe my… GRABBY HANDS!

He roars playfully and gives chase, following her hysterical giggles.

3. EXT. GOODNA CEMETERY – NIGHT

Danny and Lola are deep into each other, making out and rolling around in pine needles. Headstones loom over them throwing shadows across their bodies like disembodied clawed hands.

A headless weeping angel seems alive in the moonlight and Lola screams, spotting it in the gloom.

DANNY: Lola chill, don’t be weak.

He’s losing patience. He moves to grope her again but she swats him away.

LOLA: I’ve had enough Danny – I wanna leave.

DANNY: What’s that?

He motions to a patch of red raw scratches and fresh bruising down the side of her torso.

LOLA: I don’t know. I thought it was just the leaves and shit, but it’s creeping me out. We shouldn’t be here! I wanna go!

DANNY (sighing): Okay. Fine.

4. INT. CAR, GOODNA CEMETERY – NIGHT

Lola is sitting in the passenger seat rubbing her legs and fingering faint scratches.

DANNY: Jeez bae… (He takes on a spooky tone) Maaaaybe it was the ghoooosts—

LOLA: Don’t. Let’s just get outta here.
An amused grin crosses his face before he starts the car.

Nothing.

He tries it again, this time revving the engine, but it’s as if the car is stuck. It rears to move forward but has stuck fast.

Lola glares at Danny.

LOLA: That’s not funny—

She pauses.

DANNY: I’m not—

LOLA: Shush!

DANNY: Lo—

LOLA: SSHHHHH! Listen!

Outside something is scratching against the metal work of the car, pawing against it, as if to get in.

DANNY: What is that?

LOLA: Please can we just go?

DANNY: Lola, I’m trying!

He tries the car again. Nothing. It’s revving. It’s trying to move – almost as if the handbrake is on and it wants to go – but something is holding it back.

He sighs and flings the door open.

DANNY (CONT’D): I’ll check the—

Lola’s face contorts into a soundless scream. A disembodied arm clings to the open door – claws latched deep into the paintwork. Danny sees and jerks the door back closed.

DANNY (CONT’D): Whaaa—?

Lola is climbing up onto her seat – as if the hands might come through the floor of the car to get her. She’s pressed against the door but doesn’t trust the window so she backs against Danny. She’s crying, bordering on hysterical.

DANNY (CONT’D): It’s okay.

He slams the locks down on both doors and his arms come around her, his hand stroking the back of her head.

5. EXT. GOODNA CEMETERY – SUNRISE
The sun comes up on a car parked outside the cemetery. It could almost be a different place as the sun lifts away any sign of anything sinister within the graveyard and light fills the darkness.

6. EXT. SUBURBAN HOME – CONT’D

The P-plate car pulls up in a driveway and Lola jumps out before it’s even come to a halt. She’d exhausted – a sleepless night evident on her tired face. She slams the door and motions to lean in the open window. Before she gets there she is backing away in horror.

From in the car Danny looks concerned.

DANNY: Bae?
He climbs out and comes around to her. He stares at the car, fumbling for Lola’s hand as they both back away silently.

Deep within the paintwork are huge scratch marks that had almost made it to the handle…

SMASH FADE TO BLACK.

Saturday, 19 March 2016

GLITTER GIRL

FADE IN:
1.   INT. SMALL HOUSE, BEDROOM - DAY

The bedroom is small and in disarray. Strewn over a double bed are piles of woman’s clothes of all colours and designs. Clearly the cupboards have been emptied and dumped on the bed.

To one side there is an old crumbling chest of drawers with a huge cracked mirror above it. Before the mirror sits a thin androgynous young man, DANIEL (17), staring hopelessly at his reflection. On his face are fading bruises and a fresh splatter of blood. He wears a dress that falls lifelessly down his chest making him appear waifish and masculine. He tugs half-heartedly at the straps.

Daniel turns away from the mirror and glares at the clothes on the bed. He jumps up, seizing armfuls of the clothing and sweeping them to the floor. He continues this until the bed is entirely clear… revealing a human shape hidden under the covers.

He pulls back the doona to reveal the recently deceased pale CORPSE OF HIS MOTHER. She is wearing a black dress that has been stabbed and mutilated around the torso area.
Daniel smiles at her. He kisses her forehead before proceeding to undress her.


2.   INT. SMALL HOUSE, KITCHEN - EVENING

Amongst mould and mountains of dishes, Daniel does his best to prepare a meal and set the table, not forgetting the most important thing: his father's bottle of Jack Daniels.

Daniel grins as he pulls the bottle down from the alcohol cabinet and rinses a glass. He places them both side by side on the table. He’s wearing the black dress he’d removed from his mother but it’s been tucked into a pair of jeans so it now resembled a shirt.

The microwave dings and he removes a ready meal. By the time he places the on the table, grabs and cleans a fork, his FATHER ambles into the kitchen.

Silently Father collapses into his prepared seat and cracks open the bottle of Jack Daniels, not even bothering with the glass.

FATHER
(irritated)
Where's your mother?

DANIEL
She had to go out.

Father pokes at the meal, making no attempt to eat it. Daniel watches him silently.

FATHER
Get out of here!

Before Daniel can leave, Father pushes the uneaten meal away and stands up. He wanders out of the room with the bottle in his hand.
Daniel clears the table and retreats back to the safety of his mother's room.

3.   INT. SMALL HOUSE, BEDROOM - CONTINUOUS

His Mother is staring up at him when he walks past her and returns to the vanity. She’s half uncovered, her limbs splayed.

Distracted, Daniel finds his mother’s makeup, making the effort to line his eyes in kohl, surround them with green and cover his lips in the brightest red he can find.

All the while he’s mumbling to himself (or to her) incoherently.

As if he’s spotted her disarray in the mirror, Daniel returns to his mother. He folds her arms gently across her chest, closes her mouth and caresses her eyes closed.

He pulls the doona up to her neck to cover all the unsightly stab wounds over her chest and stomach and rests her head on a pillow.

He kisses her forehead.

DANIEL
Be still Mother.


4.   INT. SMALL HOUSE, LOUNGE - NIGHT

Daniel slinks in the doorway watching his Father who is mumbling incoherently at the TV, clearly drunk.

He fetches another bottle of alcohol from the kitchen and carries it over to his father. His father takes the bottle, pushing the mostly empty one to the floor.

As he cracks it open he looks his son up and down, trying to focus on him.
FATHER
What the fuck are you doing home? You should be out making money!

Daniel's eyes narrow as he realises his father's mistake. His father grabs his arm, dragging him closer.

FATHER (CONT'D)
Daniel? What the fuck are you doing wearing your mother's stuff?

His father wrenches his son down so far he almost stumbles to the ground, but as the bottle smashes him hard across the head he goes down anyway.
FATHER (CONT'D)
I have fucking told you again and again not to do this shit!

Daniel scrambles up crawling in the broken glass and spilt alcohol. A trickle of blood runs down the side of his face.

His Father is climbing to his feet.
Daniel is thrown against the wall as his Father hisses abuse in his ear.
FATHER (CONT'D)
You want to be a bitch then I will treat you like a fucking whore!

His father's hands come up Daniel's skirt, and Daniel attempts to escape but is restrained quickly.

Daniel grins weakly as his father unbuttons his own jeans and slides Daniel’s dress up.
FADE TO BLACK.
FADE IN:
5.   INT. SMALL HOUSE, KITCHEN – NIGHT

Lit by only moonlight, Daniel sits in the dark at the kitchen table. His breathing is heavy and strained. His make up is smeared and there is dried blood caking the side of his face. His lip and cheekbone have swelled significantly and his dress is torn around the neck and left in haphazard ruins.

He is staring blankly at a bloodied knife.

6.   INT. SMALL HOUSE, LOUNGE – DAY

The house is immaculately clean and Daniel sits on the sofa in front of the television pouring himself a cup of tea from a pot.

He is wearing a beautiful summer dress, his make-up applied carefully over bruising and scabs, his hair is pulled back into a scrunchie.

He is beaming.

Beside him on the couch are two Decaying Corpses, both dressed like porcelain dolls in fancy clothes and wigs with glitter and coloured make-up upon their rotted faces.

Daniel leans back into the sofa and drapes his arm around his Father. He looks at the man lovingly and reaches over to kiss him on the cheek.

FADE TO BLACK.
END.

Saturday, 20 February 2016

BÊTE NOIRE

EXT. CITY BACK STREET – LATE EVENING

The weather is bleak – a lightning storm highlights the dark grey sky in angry flashes.

A Man (42, harried, wearing a cheap suit) hurries on his way home from work. He brings his briefcase over his head as fat drops of rain start plopping to the Earth. His mobile phone rings - obnoxious technology in this powerful show of nature - and the Man fumbles to locate it whilst attempting to remain dry.

Once answered, the caller has barely had enough time to say a word before the Man is shaking his head.

MAN: No. No. No Jeffrey. As I already told you this morning, I want the Wilson’s account to be settled first. Yes, then deal with Carrigan and his incessant demands. Why is this so hard for you to understand—?

Lightning bleaches the world in an instant of blinding force, followed closely by a deafening crack of thunder.

The Man looks at his phone, shakes it as if reviving it and returns it to his ear.

MAN: Hello? Jeffrey? Jeffrey! Damn it!

He stabs at his phone with his thumb. No signal.

Another lighting white out, this time, as it dissipates, A body is briefly illuminated in the street ahead.

The Man pauses, squinting ahead as if the body is a trick of the storm. The hand holding his phone, temporarily forgotten, falls to his side.

FUUUU-WOKKK!

He startles in fright as another crack of thunder rips the world. His briefcase no longer a suitable shield to the rain, he submits to a dampening.

The body - barefoot, dressed entirely in black, androgynous, and apparently unconscious - is almost impossible to see in the backdrop of the gloom. Only the paleness of its skin gives away its position.

Regaining his sensibility, the Man walks over to the body, approaching cautiously – drunks could be dangerous – even, psychotic drunks, to be out in this weather?

He rolls it over with the least amount of contact – did he really want to soil himself on this possible hobo? The body flops almost lifelessly, a tinge of blood at the corner of its mouth; its eyes blink open slowly… staring past the Man, to the sky above, longing.

MAN: Hey, are you alright?

Neither male nor female, the creature closes its eyes. Impossible to tell tears disguised in rain, its eyes say it all: it mourns.

CREATURE: Father’s angry.

The Man, less scared now and more concerned, wipes the blood from its mouth. He brushes the long dark hair from its face.

MAN: What happened to you?

The worst hurt anyone could possibly imagine has come to pass; inflicted on this poor precious beauty, and evident on its face.

It looks from the Man, to the sky above…

CREATURE (sobbing): I fell…

The Man follows its gaze to the Heavens above: dark grumbling clouds alive with ferocious activity and static power…

FADE TO BLACK.

Friday, 19 February 2016

Come Away With Me.

A review I just found for one of my short films, 'Come Away with Me'. 

From the MRC (Media Resource Centre) Lipsync magazine HERE. 

Review by Emily Brindal: 

"Come Away with Me is a dark tale of love between two selfdestructive gay men. While there is no rock ‘n’ roll, there is sex, drugs and self-harm. If there were a nice antonym for ‘light-hearted’, I would insert this word here. It is intense and unashamed in its intensity. The cinematography is beautiful and really engages the viewer in the story. It also adds tension which is at times lacking in the performances. Although overall the film is more serious than some may prefer, it achieves what it desires to – it confronts the viewer and asks them to consider the line between love and self-destruction."


You can watch my film HERE.