********* "CASSADAGA" *********
Screenplay by
Virgil Allen Wulff
wuf2@hotmail.com
Based on his Novel
FADE IN:
EXT. CASSADAGA DAY (1992)
The "Title and Credits" begin to overlay an aerial view of the Spiritualist Camp of Cassadaga, Florida, including the temple, the lake/picnic area, the hotel, and resident cottages scattered throughout. The pan continues on the ground to view the Colby Memorial Temple, then moves to a small resident cottage to focus on a sign in the front yard which reads: Rev. Richard Laird, Psychic/Medium, Inquire Within. Next, the long veranda of the Cassadaga Hotel is panned to the end where a man and two women are seated at a cafe table. It moves up to the CASSADAGA Hotel sign, then continues across the road to a rustic office building and focuses on its large placard, which reads: Dr. Everett Senoma D.D., CASSADAGA PSYCHIC RESEARCH CENTER, Metaphysical Readings, Open Daily 9 AM to 5 PM. The panning stops at the front window to view the robust Dr. Everett SONOMA and the lovely LEANA Warren seated across from each other at his narrow desk.
INT. SENOMA'S OFFICE -- DAY
Dr. SONOMA is relaxed having nearly finished his impressive psychic reading.
SENOMAAh...anything else you wish to know, my dear Leana?LEANA(looks up in thought)Umm...let's see. Uh...what's to become of me? What should I do? SENOMA(smiling)Leana, with your beauty and the sheer musical talent you so wholly possess, you are predestined to become FAMOUS beyond...
Suddenly his eyes open wide. He squints and flicks his specs atop his head. Then he jolts, as if chopped in the neck. With both hands he cups his flushed face and pushes back hard.
LEANA(in panic, grasps chair to rise)Oh my God! What's the matter? Are you all right?SENOMA(rubbing eyes and calming)Huh! Oh, yes. Keep seated. It'll pass. (thinking out loud) No more. I quit!LEANA(still shaken)What is it? What...what can I do?SENOMADo? Nothing! Nothing, it's over. I'm all right now.Dr. SENOMA frantically begins to close the several notebooks strewn on his disheveled desk. While stacking them, he stops and looks directly at LEANA.
SENOMA(solemnly)It's Margo--my Spirit Guide. She apparently wants me to terminate. I'm terribly sorry.LEANA(looking rather flustered)She? You...you mean someone is talking to you?SENOMA(calming)Well, no, not talking per se. It's mental. (gets serious) Let me put it this way (leans forward). Margo is on a different plane than we. Some call it the Astral Plane. Much higher vibrations exist
within this spectrum. Her communication with me is rather cryptic--but, through the years, I have
learned to assimilate her. Uh, well most of the time. She can prod all my senses. Inflicts mind
energy probes when she's upset. (grits teeth) Wish she wouldn't be so darn painful.
LEANA(perplexed)I'm, I'm so sorry. Did I upset her? Did I--cause all this?SENOMANo--well, frankly, I don't really know. All I know for certain is--Margo wants an end to this session.LEANABut...but you've been doing so well--so accurate.SENOMA raises his stout Balkan frame. Glasses still centering his balding head, he saunters around into her space and then lightly pats her shoulder.
SENOMAI'm terribly sorry, Leana, but I must terminate.LEANA looks up at him with sky-blue inquisitive eyes as he continues.
SENOMAI'm certain it's nothing personal, my dear. Fact is--I sense she is angry with ME--not you. I can only hope for you to understand. You see--Margo empowers my readings. There's nothing more I
can say--or do.
He gently grasps her hand, pleasingly escorts her to the door, and cracks it in view of his receptionist.
SENOMA(calls out)Chelsea! Please give this pretty young lady a full refund.He shakes her slender hand with both of his.
SENOMAGoodbye Leana. Now you be careful my dear. And may God bless and keep you.EXT. CASSADAGA DAY
LEANA walks out onto the weather-beaten porch in utter confusion. She stops, smoothes her short blond hair, and stands gazing at the placard: Dr. Everett Senoma D.D., CASSADAGA PSYCHIC RESEARCH CENTER, etc. She recalls his disclaimer.
LEANA (V.O.)What was it he said? Ah yes: ...and remember this reading is for entertainment purposes only.With a tittering, she thinks.
LEANA (V.O.)Entertainment? Well, I guess...but sprinkled with searing drops of anxiety.SENOMA despondently watches from his window. LEANA's slender figure, all dressed in white with a wide opaque strap that makes her waist even tinier, ambles down the blacktop road toward the Cassadaga Hotel. In the distance, he catches a turn of her lovely face toward him and frantically draws the shabby shutters. She wears no makeup--does not want or need any. The scene pans forward to the three persons seated at the hotel café table.
***SPECULATIVE SCREENPLAYS***
CLICK ON ONE OF THE FOLLOWING FOR SCREENPLAY EXCERPTS BASED ON THE THREE NOVELS OF VIRGIL ALLEN WULFF:
********* "DEATH-PACT REUNION" *********
Screenplay by
Virgil Allen Wulff
wuf2hotmail.com
Based on his Novel
FADE IN:
EXT. MALIBU MANSION NIGHT (1996)
Secluded and firmly nestled on a rugged cliff is a luxurious, foreboding mansion. An electronic fortress -- purposely built to repulse outsiders. The midnight storm is chanted by the blustering Pacific pummeling the rocks below.
INT. MALIBU MANSION -- NIGHT (1996)
An eerie darkness pervades, except for a milky light peering out the cracked door just to the right of the massive staircase. Inside, a young MAN, tall, medium build, light complexion, silky blond hair, and quite handsome, is slumped, palm on cheek, facing his computer. The monitor is displaying his manuscript title: "HE GAVE ME THE POWER."
MAN(talking to an imaginary Fred)Sounds like some New Age title, doesn't it Fred? Come on -- ANSWER ME -- someway. Don't you realize, it's been over thirty years -- and THREE BODIES? Every New Year's Eve -- sitting
here like a damn fool -- waiting for NOTHING. WHY no contact? Ashamed of my lifestyle -- is
that it?
(he straightens up)Look Fred, I'm no Messiah. Never asked for The Power. You gave it to me. Remember? Hey, I'm just a survivor. Come on, how about some of that good old spiritual GUIDANCE?
He scans to the next page displaying at the top: "PROLOGUE -- The Warning."
MAN(slouching)They won't believe THIS Fred, I've GOT to write this book. Need your concurrence. The righteous must be warned. Too many bad guys with The Power. Too many victims. Too many
abusers around -- LIKE ME.
He scans to the end, page breaks, and types: "CHAPTER 1. MY CURRENT EXISTENCE." He speaks the words as he types.
MAN(slowly)My identity must remain private, so let me invent the name: Marcus Alan Slater. I am twenty-three, with an over-abundance of material possessions. I am physical perfection with
outstanding prowess, having reached the all-important joy of living that all men strive and fantasize.
Affluent, to explore whatsoever I desire, and most fortunate to be able to acquire more of whatever
I need -- using The Power.
MARK Slater continues typing the next paragraph of his story as the scene dissolves.
INT. BUS DEPOT -- DAY (1960)
ALLEN Weston, tall, dark brown hair and eyes, rough complexion, and shabbily dressed, has just arrived. He puts his bag into a pay locker as a loud speaker announces a Las Vegas arrival. ALLEN walks out of the bus depot into downtown Vegas.
INT. NEVADA CLUB -- DAY (1960)
As ALLEN strolls through the Nevada Club Casino, located near the Golden Nugget, he notices a large buffet with a sign "All You Can Eat One Dollar." Surprised and starving, he happily pays his dollar, and loads up a plate. He stuffs himself, trying hard to be inconspicuous Next, he walks up to an empty Blackjack table with an elderly DEALER standing, arms folded.
ALLENHow Much?DEALERDollar min, hundred max. You look broke, champ. There's a quarter table down the way.ALLEN walks to the quarter table and sits down. The DEALER is young and nervous-looking. A pretty girl (a SHILL) sits next to him.
SHILLHi honey! Don't mind me. I shill for the house. Jerry here's a break-in dealer. They want me to keep an eye on him.
JERRY shuffles the deck poorly.
JERRY(hands shaking)Place your bets.The SHILL puts up a dollar chip.
SHILLJust put some money in that square. You've played, haven't you?ALLEN(placing a quarter bet)Oh yeah! I gambled cards in the Navy -- never in a casino. I might need some help.SHILLWell, you probably know more than poor Jerry here. He just finished Dealer's School. STOP SHAKING so much Jerry, it ain't yer fucken money. Dealer stays on 17
As the SHILL explains the rules, a Cocktail waitress comes by with a tray of free Screwdrivers. Another welcomed surprise for Allen He sits there for hours, staying about even, drinking several Screwdrivers. Dealers and the SHILL come and go on 40-minute shifts ALLEN notices someone familiar at the bar.
ALLENSay! You know that BIG man sitting at the bar?SHILL(turning to look)Oh sure, that's Ted. He's our Maintenance Engineer -- you know, Janitor. Been here couple months. Lost everything gambling. So did I. Drinks too much. So do I.
********* "DEADLIHOOD" *********
Screenplay by
Virgil Allen Wulff
wuf2@hotmail.com
Based on his Novel
FADE IN:
EXT. WEST MADISON, CHICAGO MIDNIGHT (2002)
West Madison was once known as the skid row street of Chicago. Many years ago, drunks littered West Madison Street for blocks among flop-houses, gin-joints, and cat-houses. Now, there are high-rise complexes and loft-apartments with corner bars and assorted shops, missions, and markets squeezed in-between. Drunks and needy are still around, but police do their best to scare them off, lock them up, or find shelters for them. Homeless CLYDE Miller lived on this street of sad memories among the few remaining indigents. A pathetic septuagenarian with emaciated body resulting from garbaged food and cheap wine.
The scene depicts CLYDE being battered by a sinewy punk named ROMANO clad in black leather, while JETER, a pudgy teenager, nervously sits in wait on the curb nearby.
ROMANO(kicking CLYDE with silver-tipped boots)Old men SUCK!Ferociously ROMANO leaps and stomps and stomps again, breaking nose and jaw. Without screams, Clyde curls into a tight fetal position, grasping battered skull. ROMANO fingernail-flicks his switchblade.
ROMANOGonna hurt ya, bad.JETER(eyes bulging) Hey Romano, cop car comin'.(terrified)Come on, jeez come on now, let's blow.Romano, switchblade in hand, smirks, kneels down, grasps a hunk of gray.
ROMANO(whispers in CLYDE's ear)You a lucky old geezer. Jest 'bout to slice it off down there. Ya got no use of it nohow.He sticks the blade point deep into Clyde's left nostril and slits it open. Blood spurts like from a spigot.
RAMONO looks up at the moon and rises in macho glory.
ROMANOOkay! OKAY, JETER boy! We outta here.Two shadowy profiles, with echoing boots, dart down West Madison--quickly fading into dead of night. Clyde squirms to spread-eagle with blood splotching his blackened, hands-covered face.
CLYDE(mumbling through shredded lips into deep memory)Romano, Romano, Romano...Jeter, Jeter, Jeter.The approaching police car, ZEKE driving, on a routine patrol, with manual spotlight, searches for trouble. The beam catches Clyde's pathetic figure and brakes squeal. Patrolman George KELLY, a muscular hulk, exits and immediately recognizes Clyde's ragged persona.
KELLYDamn--damn it Clyde--now what?Kelly reaches down, pulling away withered hands tightly shielding Clyde's face.
KELLYOh my God, my God, NO!KELLY quickly let go, palmed his mouth, choked and coughed and spit up doughnuts.
George Kelly's powerful arms scoops Clyde's slender unconscious carcass up like a forklift and gently places him on the back seat. Wheels screech as Kelly jumps into the already moving patrol car. He places Clyde's bloody head on his lap and uses a rag to press stop the gushing nose. Blue white lights spin and siren blares as they speed south, then west on the Eisenhower Expressway, heading for Polk Street.
ZEKE perilously snakes through traffic. A gurney is waiting at the emergency entrance of the Cook County Hospital. Clyde remains oblivious as paramedics roll him to the ER.
