"Charm City Rumpus" Scouting photos

Sean Murphy

Note to the reader: this movie will use an extensive amount of classical music in places where classical music may not be appropriate. This is done to promote the dreamlike sequence of events that happen between the two main characters.

This is a satire of the jesus story. It is not sad. It is at most reflective and at parts meditative.

It is 1999, 6 months before the new millennium, in a small ocean side town in New England. Here lives our main character:

Sean Murphy- 38 years old. A failing screenwriter, part time English teacher, sailing enthusiast. Sean has spent most of his career trying to write a work that will change people or change the world or at least do something important and memorable. 

Sean is a quiet person. Most of his silence is filled with thought or reflection, but some people find it off-putting. He’s not shy, he just doesn’t open his mouth at every moment.

The story starts off with Sean getting a rejection to his RFP to a studio for one of his screenplays—his biggest work yet. Sean had intentions of making this piece his kickoff into the new millennium. He often sets his sights high for things like this.

Sean is approached by Death. Death is a fisherman who docks his boat across the pier from where Sean keeps his sailboat. Death has a hard to distinguish raspy voice, no beard and a beat-up captains hat.

Death instigates Sean because of his solemn face. Death is a salty old man, no concern for the feelings of others, says what’s on his mind. Death invites Sean onto his boat. He opens up a cooler and shows Sean a hideous snakehead that he had caught for the day. He invites Sean to eat it with him on the grill onboard. This man, Death seems surreal to Sean, almost unbelievable.

From land, a boy, 19, comes flying down the dock the dock at full speed on a bicycle.

He speeds past Sean and Death, continuing toward the end of the dock. Sean abruptly leans out of the boat, taken back by what he’s seeing. At the end of the dock is a 4 foot tall wooden ramp. The boy grits his teeth and launches off the ramp. Sean watches in amazement as he exits from the bike, opens up into a massive swan dive, almost flying through the air, then over-rotating and falling into the freezing water.

Sean jumps from Death’s boat and sprints down the dock. Death follows Sean with an eerie gaze. As sean reaches the end of the dock, up from the ladder on the end comes,

Nathaniel a 19 year old boy with a half grown out beard, a soaked, old leather jacket. He stands facing the sea on the end of the dock, leans his neck left and right cracking it. Nate sighs to himself: “What a shitty dismount.” Sean stands there in amazment, not moving. Nate turns, passes Sean saying sarcastically: “G’day” as he walks past, Sean turns. Nate turns back saying: : “Don’t slip there. Decks wicked slick today”

So the long and short of this story, is that Nate is dying from a serious disease with an unknown amount of weeks to live. Nate is unconcerned with the amount of time, almost ignoring it completely. He’s more concerned with using his time wisely, however he has seemingly no list of things to accomplish. Nate has a terrible family—paying for his medical bills but hardly offering him any support for his disease. He is more-or-less alone.

Sean comes in and for one reason or another becomes the facilitator of Nate’s ridiculous ideas. Sean begins to realize that many of these ideas are beneficiary and that Nate’s biggest goal is similar to seans—to change people, or move people, or help people, or figure out how to (as nate puts it bluntly) do magic.

In the end, Nate dies a not-very romantic death. Sean his stricken by this like he has just woken up from a 2 week long dream. From this experience he writes a movie about Nate, that goes on to be regarded as one of the best ever, it propels Nate into being a legacy and in effect doing his magic thing vicariously through Sean.

Sean and this boy go to his parents house.

Save Me From the Zombies

What if two kids convinced a whole small town that the zombie apocolypse was upon us and sold implements, protection and escape routes.

Wolfgang Wright is a 22 year old out of school. It is summer and he is home from his last year of undergraduate. He lives in a small town in Louisiana. Wolfgang loves comic books, as a kid he built worlds draing comics. He also prides himself on his ability to drive cars and re-enact comic book action scenes. He’s a dork, but a dork with a presence.

Mitchell Green is Wright’s best friend. They’ve grown up in this hometown together sharing an affinity for the surreal, impossible and cleverly devised of schemes and stories.

It is this summer however that they plot to pull off the best heist the country/town has ever scene, and also a devilish way to make money.

In this heist-like structured film, Wright and Green recruit 3 other local dudes their age to help them pull off their heist.

Their goal is 3 fold:

1)    convince the town that there is a zombie apocalypse in entirety and beyond any reasonable doubt.

2)    Play the part. Set up the scene

3)    3) sell safety and defense implements.

Grady Sawyer

It’s May, 2 years after high school graduation.

We open on a clear plastic cup of iced coffee. In it, milk is poured. It spews up in a spirals from the bottom. Following, is a stylistic scene of the inner workings of a coffee shop, moving like a choreographed dance. Amidst the sound design of the machines working, an electronic-esque remix of seven nation army envelops the scene. We see Grady Sawyer, our main character, as the puppet master of this wild apparatus. He’s white, growing a beard, 5’8, confident being the master of this simple task. He has head phones on.

Grady spins around and sits a coffee mug down on the counter with a click. He smiles somewhat seductively at a 30-some-year old woman ordering her drink. The click of the mug cues the music out.

Grady suavely opens the register and counts 1 dollar bills.

With emphasis on his T’s and “wh’s”, trying to impersonate a western European accent, he narrates to her--            “Tall white mocha”

She smiles, confused at him. “Bonjourno” he says.

Stylistically: cash register close, 2 dollars sneakily slipped out of the closing door. Apron hung over espresso machine. Lights turned off.

Intro creds:

Grady exits the back door, hops onto a skateboard and puts his headphones back on. He is flying down the road, unrealistically fast, cruising through his music-enduced high.

He approaches an intersection, reaches in his back pocket and pulls out a pastel-orange bike messenger cap. He pulls it down over his eyes like a pair of WWII pilot goggles. He flies toward the intersection, he begins to stand up and shift his weight backwards on the board. He sticks his arms out, embracing the speed at which he’s approaching this intersection. As cars fly through the death trap in front of him

He shifts his board 90 degrees into a powerslide, the music in his headphones blurs together as he screeches blindfolded to a 30mph intersection. He slides, barely slowing down, with his arms out as his sides like a dragster parachute until he stops on the threshold of the intersecting road.

He pulls the messenger hat off his head, looking down at the street to see how close he got, like he has done this many times. He kicks his board up saying “yee-haw” and steps up onto the sidewalk, walks up a set of stairs into a brick townhouse.

In the foyer of his house are his two buddies, Fleet—big-fucking-dude, should be in the service, everybody thinks he is. Nicest dude you’ve ever met. Pushover to girls.

And his other friend who they all just call Hobbs. Hobbs is a crafty little devil. He can build stuff that nobody should be able to build. When they were sophomores in highschool, hobbs built dry-ice bombs and eventually a sulfuric acid nail bomb that he detonated in their backyard breaking several of the windows in Grady’s house.

Grady enteres “Oh Bonjourno brotha”

Hobbs “bad fucking news dude”

Grady turns to the living room where his parents sit, his dad, a comical looking man with a sarcastic look on his face—obviously has a sarcastic relationship with his son. He speaks in a somewhat squeaky voice, his comic attitude holds the majority of his authority. He also has a beard. He picks on Grady for not being able to full grow one.  Grady’s dad is Mr. S.

Fleet: “Mr. S. maybe we can just come to some sort of agreement”

Hobbs slaps Grady on the butt getting him to inch closer to his father.

Grady: “what’s going on pop?”

Mr. S (inhaling through his teeth then sighing sarcastically) “Yeah, son, we needa have a lil chat.

            Grady’s mom sits there tapping her foot waiting for the conversation to be over.

Mr. S explains how his brother’s house up in New England has major damage from a storm that came through and how Grady is going up for the summer to help him rebuild because he can’t afford to pay for the service to do it.

            Hobbs cracks a joke about the service servicing Mr. S’s brother.

Long story short, Grady, Hobbs and Fleet decide to all go up for the summer.

BOOM – Break into act 3

The guys pack their things and hop into Fleet’s old bronco, driven by Hobbs, and leave for the summer. The peel out of the street and get on the road.

Back inside Grady’s house His father closes the door. And approaches his wife. Making a snide sexual comment. Grady’s mother responds with something along the lines of “do you think this is such a good idea?

Mr. S- “he’s 20 years old and engineers grande mocha latte choco-latte’s for his day-to-day.”

The guys arrive in new England to the house of Grady’s unclewhom he has only met when he was younger. The house is on the water. The front yard is a dump, but the backyard is like Mr. Miagi’s zen garden with a rock beach and a long destroyed dock with a keeled over boat.

From the dock, a short, grey haired dude (only about 50 years old) comes cursing and stomping towards shore holding his hand. The boys watch him approach.

Fleet waves and calls out to him “Heya… Mr. S”

He looks up, noticing the boys and walks closer, wiping his hands on his dark brown shorts, wet from the mid thighs down.

Grady’s uncle, Ray, is a weathered looking dude, with long gray wavy hair greasy from never showering flowing back over his head, gray stubble, a grubby plad button down, and dark brown pants. He swings his hand in a half handshake half high-five to greet Fleet. He speaks in a somewhat surferish tone.

Ray: “ah the prodigal nephew returns! How goes it brotha?”

Fleet: “Mr. S I—“

Ray: “Call me Ray amigo”

Grady (throwing his arm around fleet): “it’s been a while uncle Ray”

Ray (turning, sorta surprised but unphased): “ey! There you are!”

Grady: “Dad told us to come down and help you for the summer”

Ray “Oh that was nice, what with?”

Hobbs interjects: “Is your hand okay Mr. S?”

            The guys look down at his left hand which is bleeding slightly on the back.

Ray: “Oh yeah no problem. Nuttin a bit of sea water can’t fix.”

Ray guids the guys down to the beach

Hobbs “you got health insurance there ray?”

Ray “No need! Stay healthy…. Smoke weeeed”

Fleet laughs awkwardly as Ray wipes some glood on his shorts.

Hobbs looks at calvin with a “this is hard to believe” expression.

Ray shows the guys around the area in his motorboat.

This movie should have a forgetting Sarah marshal structure.

Triumph on the Open Road

I’m standing on the edge of a cliff overlooking San fransisco bay. My brother is kneeling next to me smoking a cigarette and holding the brim of a hat to shade the sun. In between us is an paper grocery bag with greenbacks blowing out of it in the wind. Behind us, a Harley is lying on it’s side.

My brother and I left home one year and 2 days ago, tomorrow. Looking back I’d call this bad life choice, a youthful pursuit of happiness by two kids who wouldn’t recognize happiness if it shit on their feet.

My name is Francis, I’m 23.

I left with my swiss army knife, a suitcase full of clothes to impress people with, a full tank of gas in my Triumph TR4, that I bought with the intention of restoring but never got around to doing, $326 in an envelope, and a woven fidora on my head. I only wear this hat while driving my car. I think at one point in my life I thought that maybe I’d be driving one day and the hat would fly from my head, and that’d be it, it’d just be me and the open road. That hat has stayed on for a while. I like music, I’m somewhat of a closeted muscian though. I can play anything you put in front of me.

My brother is Anthony, He’s 20

My brother is younger than me, he’s a Wildman, he puts me to the test, makes me do things I normally wouldn’t, he doesn’t care about his looks, doesn’t place any value on aesthetics, somehow girls are attracted to this. Couldn’t tell you why. He carries a few things in his suitcase, a drink mixer—he’s 20 years old and 3 months, and he might as well be a certified bartender. He feels no need to impress people, but he always ends up doing it.

So more important than what’s in our suitcase is what’s behind us. About a year ago, Anthony and I got in a fight with my uncle—a power and knowledge hungry, egotistical meglomaniac. Long story short, don’t try to prove him wrong. It was my goal to prove him wrong once in my life. That ended in internal injuries and finding out that my father didn’t defend me.

Fuck that.

A week later, we said by to pop, and in what was probably the worst attempt at a grandiose “fuck you” to my uncle, we left the east coast.

We left the east coast with a couple bucks. I had an idea though so it was all good.

We were going to buy and sell items while traveling, and make a profit off each one.

Simple right. Not illegal. Easy way to make money.

Let’s not forget, this was not a business venture in my mind, it was a means of escape.

For explanations sake I’m going to describe this journey in terms of events:

Items we sold

Banjo

Anthony wanted to jump from a waterfall before he got on the road and he knew of a spring in western Virginia. Why not.

30 miles from the falls, tire blows. We slapped the new one on and got patched up at the nearest autoshop. I was inside the store talking to Bertha, the woman operating the front desk, when Anthony pulls the car around the side. I paid the woman for the patch. And hopped in the car.

A mile down the road, Anthony pulls over the car and motions for me to get out, we walk around to the trunk and he opens it. Inside is a dusty old case.

Inside, a mint condition refurbished banjo.

We've now come full circle

So here we are, on this fucking precipice, overlooking the bay. 2000 miles far gone from where we started.  

My hat blows off.

Prototype

Opening title: 16 years ago, Janurary 28^th, 1997.

Film opens on the uncovery of a small tablet deep in the heart of the tropical forest, near an ancient Mayan civilization. An archeologist uncovers it and takes it to our main character Ethan.

-       You were a prototype species, we will be back in about 3000 years your time to conclude this study. We gave you life to better understand our own species, we gave you the idea of religion to better understand our own species, and now we are giving you primitive technology to help better understand our own species. –

March 23^rd 2013 – Back in current times

We have made it through what many enthusiasts thought would be the end of the world.

Now our MC is curious as to what this tablet he found 13 years ago means.

He begins experiencing strange things in his day to day. He begins thinking thoughts he didn’t know he was capable of thinking, doing things he didn’t know he could do, understanding answers to questions that he shouldn’t know.

It seems that there are thoughts being placed in his head

These thoughts are supposedly the way that this alien race communicates with us,  they are not with us physically but they have come back through this man to help us solve our worlds problems.

Ethan’s partner in his studies, starts to discover what is happening to him and becomes jealous.

This is about the struggle between the MC he believes and his partner believes is partially possessed by the ocnscience of aliens, and the society who doesn’t believe him.

He must determine how he can enact what these aliens are saying and make people understand what the aliens were trying to do, and how they want to save us from ourselves.

Ultimately we see that humans are the most violent and hostile lifeforms in the universe.

We end with the death of the main character. He is a tragic hero.

The very last scene, we go back to the time of the mayans and witness this:

Mayans meet with aliens or future aliens, they explain the we are the prototype species for a test. And we have ended up being the most violent creatures in the universe. The aliens then stop themselves from handing the information off and starting the cycle, creating an alternate reality paradigm

The Frank Sinatra Club

My name is Teddy, I don’t make much money per year, I have solutions to most things in my life because I’ve figured them out ahead of time. Last week a wealthy guy told me that I’d never be able to figure out happiness because nobody can find it. Who the hell did he think he was? Driving his Beamer and telling me HE was unhappy. He’s dead wrong. I just did figure out happiness. Let me tell you how.

First, I associate myself with three people:

Angus Mckisick – White – immigrated from Ireland 3 years ago. We say he’s fresh off the boat. He is a roofer. We’d pick fights with him less if his huge build wasn’t counter-balanced by a good sense of humor. Unfortunately he has his tipping points. He also wants to go home to Ireland but he says he loves the states for bullshit reasons.

Ramsey Finn – White – HATES organized sports. He was trained in martial arts as a kid. He taught himself as an adult—whether was a good idea or not, we don’t know. He doesn’t know his limits very well. Has two kids that live with his divorced wife. He says he won’t let them date until they’re 28 and they can’t drive until they rebuild an entire car. Ramsey is a garbage man. He lives by his own laws.

Allcot Maxon – Black – Brilliant, majored in physics. Jailed for 8 years after school for a self defense shooting. Released for good behavior. Now he can’t get a job. He invents and designs things in his spare time and lives off his girlfriend who is only with him for his good looks and because she thinks he will eventually do something brilliant. He hates that he”s black and named Alcott.

Second, we live in the lower east side of Manhattan—In shithole apartments.

Third, last week we started a started a group just within ourselves, where once a week we get together and pretend we are of the upper most class.

It doesn’t matter where we are for that two ours a week but while we are there, we are top dog. We pour cheap vodka and whiskey into expensive bottles. Ramsey stole us suits from a low-end store. We sit around, turn the lights down to mood lighting, listen to Frank Sinatra and drink our drinks.

This whole thing was my idea, I thought it would take our humdrum miserable lives and make them better. Unfortunately, a few weeks into this group, we started to change.

Now you might not believe it, but what if I told you that these meetings turned into meeting grounds to plan something bigger than just a strategy for playing cards.

It was almost as if while we are at our group, we became different people and forgot about who we were before. We weren’t really drinking either. We became these personna's this other person who only existed one night a week.