by Adam Novak
Rodney: you’re not gonna believe what I found in the river house
Scott: porn?
Rodney: sonogram says we were triplets
Scott: no way
Rodney: …
Scott: where is sis now?
Rodney: don’t joke
Scott: forgotten on birthday I’d be pissed
Rodney: …
Scott: google fetus in fetu
Rodney: don’t call her a teratoma
Scott: don’t text and drive
Seeking answers, Rodney treks to Sibley Hospital on MacArthur Boulevard where a wrinkled nurse named Mrs. Green confides to him about an incident at Sibley she witnessed on the day they were born. Working in the OB/GYN ward (her position entailed sweeping after-birth detritus), the nurse glimpsed something slithering around the operating room floor and reported the occurrence to a hospital volunteer whose name she could not recall, a foster caregiver for disadvantaged children. Rodney hires a private investigator and learns the name of the Sibley Hospital volunteer. According to www.findagrave.com, Alma Trout provided mental care for troubled orphans at a foster care home until a suspicious fire destroyed the facility in Silver Spring, Maryland ten years after the Muir triplets were born at Sibley hospital—
Rodney: I went to her grave
Scott: ???
Rodney: Alma Trout
Scott: our sister?
Rodney: the orphanage lady who got murdered
Scott: you need to get laid
Rodney: she’s buried next to Zelda and F. Scott Fitzgerald at Old Saint Mary’s cemetery
Scott: so what
Rodney: the expiration date on Alma Trout’s headstone matches the date of the orphanage blaze
Scott:
NO PLACE LIKE HOME
Screenplay by Michelle Ballo
Reminiscent of Wrecking Ball, staggering script offers a tour de force part in Dan Appleby, prestige all the way, fact-based tale of mental illness and homelessness packs a wallop. Told through an early nineties NYC filter where sports columnist Dan sees his homeless parents getting their dinner out of a garbage can, remembering growing up destitute with alcoholic dad Tex, insane mom Josie, and two deranged sisters, a family unit held together with Saran Wrap. Through a series of vivid flashbacks, we see how Tex encouraged Dan to become a writer, how Tex was exploited by his own family members in a child pornography ring, how Dan gets engaged to bank teller Lorna and tells his homeless parents they’re not invited to the wedding. There are three breathtaking scenes: one, crashing the engagement party, Tex breaks Dan’s nose after losing a thumb wrestling contest; two, Dan says good riddance to a flailing Tex on his deathbed; last scene is a jaw-dropper* when Dan finds out his mother stashed a million dollars in a savings account and they all lived broke for no good reason. Expertly told, the role of batshit crazy Tex is a terrifying daddy not seen since Duvall in The Great Santini. Soundtrack of script is Dan’s heart breaking.
jaw-dropper
Weeks later, Rodney and Violet get a drink at the Tombs, a rowdy basement bar near Georgetown University when they run into Maeve, of all people, who says she’s recently separated from her husband, waiting for her date to show up, and then she joins them in a tight booth near the restrooms against Rodney’s futile attempt to get rid of Maeve, who orders several pitchers of Bud Light after her date texts her to say he’s parking and will be there any minute. Introductions do not need to be made when Scott arrives at their booth. Violet asks her date if he knows the White House press secretary and Rodney says, “We used to be womb-mates.”
Violet and Maeve get along like a house on fire. The conversation shifts to Starbucks. Maeve wonders why is the Secret Service sticking their noses into a Georgetown robbery-homicide? Violet starts spilling details about the execution-style hit (Did you know the Starbucks manager was once a White House intern? Why was there no money taken from the safe?). Maeve asks her date if he has any dirty dishes to add to the pile.
“Somebody reported a DC cop car speeding away from the Starbucks that morning instead of going to the crime scene,” says Scott, downing his beer like a rush at Kappa Sig. He adds no one in the neighborhood that morning heard any gunshots, suggesting the killer or killers used silencers; maybe it was the Secret Service behind the assassination, not the other way around.
“Secret Service wearing DC cop uniforms rumor is so last week,” scoffs Violet.
“If that girl had just given up the keys to the safe,” says Maeve, “they’d all be alive.”
“If that girl hadn’t been caught bottomless in the Lincoln Bedroom,” suggests Scott, “the Secret Service wouldn’t have put her on the White House lawn with the First Lady for the Easter egg hunt.”
“The Starbucks manager was the President’s mistress?” asks Maeve.
“No, the First Lady’s.”
Rodney excuses himself from the table, eyeing Maeve kissing Scott in full view of Violet, and enters the men’s room. From the urinal, he texts his brother—
Rodney: WTF are you doing?
Scott: I saw her first
Rodney: full metal straitjacket
Scott: …
Rodney: ask your date why she was at Starbucks that morning
Scott: This is Maeve. I’m using your brother’s phone. Party at Violet’s.
Rodney: go ahead without me
Scott:
FUCKINGHAM PALACE
Screenplay by Tabitha Von Swine
Sexy sixteenth century period piece serves up eviscerating conversations, tantric set-pieces, and sumptuous costumes. While not explicit, sexually charged lesbian chamber drama brings the heat. Lording over everyone in court, Anne Boleyn fails to please her royal husband Henry VIII (struggling with gout) while Anne’s lascivious lover Priscilla (the bride of Sir Thomas More) whispers in the King’s ear about the threat of Prussia. Henry VIII is hilarious, a walking hard-on with an insatiable appetite for mutton. Then, a new rival for Anne’s affection emerges: the omnisexual maid Abigail, who instigates bedroom wars that threaten the crown. Anne seals her doom taking on Abigail, a trollop with viper’s instincts who heals Henry’s gout, massages his legs (and more), poisons Priscilla, and convinces Henry VIII to chop off the Queen’s head. It ends very badly for Abigail, who’s banished to a slimy Paris brothel. Tantalizing material. Worthy of top talent. A royal romp*.
royal romp
Tearing open a MAGNUM™ wrapper with her teeth, “That’s quite a scar you’ve got,” says Maeve in Old Town Alexandria, naked, pressing her jagged birthmark against Scott’s identical wound, resembling conjoined twins Chang and Eng (one died in his sleep, the other woke up to a corpse and died of fright). “Yours is gnarlier,” says Rodney, guzzling South African Merlot, swallowing a Quaalude, thinking over and over about Alma Trout’s expiration date on her tombstone; Maeve turning over, catching Rodney and Scott bumping fists, “You guys did not just do that!” Rodney imagining Secret Service agents executing terrified baristas with silencers; flash and it’s Maeve driving away from Thomas Sweet after running over their parents; Violet joining the cluster, snorting banana coke, kissing the ex-wife of the Irish Ambassador, pulling her away from the brothers; flash and it’s Maeve executing everybody inside the Starbucks except Rodney, late for work; Maeve tonguing Violet, Rodney throbbing, Violet ejaculating, Maeve urging Scott to step up to her mouth; Scott thrusting, Maeve choking, natal scar so unnerving Rodney goes soft.
BRAINIAC
Screenplay by Bima Stander
Cerebral, oddly affecting drama about a small town farmer afflicted with a brain tumor that renders him super smart. Melvin O’Malley takes his small town by storm when word of his phenomenal gift gets out (it’s rumored he was abducted and probed by aliens). Melvin uses his new powers to learn foreign languages, farm gigantic tomatoes, and along the way, charm the pants
off of sexy widow Jayma and become a father figure to her two teenage daughters. Character-driven fantasy proposes that everyone has this wondrous ability if only we could unlock the source in our minds. Dazzling writing handles the science fiction as distinctively as the relationships. Script offers a real connection between Melvin and Jayma, brainy conversations, and the town’s gossipy neighbors are a hoot. Villains of the piece are reptilian government suits who want to capture Melvin (think E.T.) so they can militarize his telekinesis. Tragic third act goes for the hankies with Melvin’s sad passing from the brain tumor, reminding us how fleeting life can be.
IGNITION*
Revisions by Manuel Orantes
Explosive romantic actioner with dynamite characters elevates this enthralling tale of a mad bomber who takes on a fearless DEA agent and a wheelchair-bound bomb expert during July Fourth festivities in the nation’s capital. Federal agent Lacey Tornado captures drug kingpin Rico Sangre and brings him to DC where he is sentenced to death for his crimes. Former bomb squad expert Harvey Cross, confined to a wheelchair, is brought into the mix when his turncoat colleague Grimes starts a bombing campaign throughout the city to force Sangre’s release. Tornado and Cross form an unlikely alliance, fall in love, and send the mad bomber to Hades. Compelling at every turn, character-driven script offers a white-knuckle ride with an unexpected romance bubbling to the surface. For Antwon Legion, Cross is quite an intriguing lead (charming, daring, yet paralyzed). Similarly, well-drawn Lacey Tornado is a rose with thorns (sharp-tongued with glimpses of tenderness under her Kevlar vest). Tightly scripted, IGNITION moves like a lit fuse, and the romance that develops is tested at every turn; these two flirt even when a bomb could go off in their faces (banter is great). Final third at the Washington Monument is action-packed and ends with a kiss, not a bang.
Ignition
“I may be paralyzed, but I still have to frisk you,” says Legion.
“Knock it off Antwon,” says Rodney, “Violet’s with the Secret Service.”
“Agents: with ’em, without ’em, can’t live.”
Shrieking seagulls, walkie-talkies squawking, Teamsters humping cables as the star of Ignition greets Rodney and his date at the briny Southwest Waterfront marina. Violet can’t stop staring at Legion, goateed, movie star handsome, playing the paralyzed explosives expert—
“Antwon, it’s me.”
Legion: “How many guesses do I get?”
“Let me give you a hint: Battery Place.”
Legion: “Battery Place?”
“Don’t tell me you forgot what street you grew up on?”
Legion: “I grew up on a lot of streets.”
“Come on Antwon, think real hard.”
Legion: “Give me another clue.”
“Alma Trout.”
Breaking character, Legion leaps out of the wheelchair: “My sister from another mister!”
“Look at you, Oscar winner.”
Legion: “Look at you, protecting the President.”
Rodney: “You two went to prom?”
“Hell no, Antwon and I grew up in the same foster home.”
Rodney: “Foster home?”
Legion: “Remember when you deep fried that Trout—”
Violet shushes the movie star with a middle finger to her lips. The second AD interrupts to declare Harvey Cross is needed on set. Legion falls into his wheelchair and motors away to save the nation’s capital from a mad bomber.
“Silver Spring,” grasps Rodney.
“Hey, how’d you know that?” asks Violet.
The ex-studio executive turns away from his sister, the one not named Maeve, hot bile waving hello to his esophagus, and swallows the acidic gob of realization in his throat.
WHEELIE
Screenplay by Ed Hider
Familiar dramatic territory a la The Waterdance, but this remains a devastating ride. Wheelchair-bound from a freak ping pong accident, Don Abramson is a functional drug addict searching for his birth mother who can draw better than Picasso. Don undergoes nightmarish surgeries, suicidal thoughts, and alcoholic benders until he quits boozing and takes control of his life. Don’s work as a political cartoonist takes off during Obama’s Presidential campaign, which brings him mad fame and a national platform. Unconventional structure, witty title cards, and quick flashbacks all play beautifully. Don’s imagination runs wild through animated sequences yet script stays grounded with an off-beat romance for Don with waitress Molly, who overcomes her own scars (scalded as an infant by a spilt cup* of hot McDonald’s coffee). Don’s cartoons attacking Sarah Palin are hilarious, but when Don meets Barack Obama in the restroom at Molly’s diner, it’s the candidate at the urinal who laughs the loudest. Don never does locate his birth mother, but Molly finds him in script’s final triumph. Only a first draft, we should get into this for casting and support this miraculous wheelie.
spilt cup
Rodney: where the fuck r U?
Scott: Brady press room briefing in 15 wassup
Rodney: Violet mad at me for going through her things
Scott: underwear?
Rodney: looking for police uniform
Scott: yer insane you think she did Starbucks?
Rodney: our sister was there that morning
Scott: …
Rodney: remember Alma Trout?
Scott: 5th grade, first kiss?
Rodney: the lady I told you about
Scott: which one big tits or gap between her teeth?
Rodney: Violet burned down foster home not Maeve
Scott:
Rodney: we’re next
Scott: sounds like Thør movie
Rodney: shut up
Scott: novel?
Rodney: Violet killed mom and dad
Scott: and the Kennedys
Rodney: be serious
Scott: I can’t have this convo about mom and dad you’re upsetting me
Rodney: OK
Scott: no word from Maeve since menage
Rodney: thought she liked you
Scott: not me she liked
Rodney: wish you would pick up phone
Scott: wish you would go to rehab
DIE HARDEST
Screenplay by Jeb Ferguson
Geriatric final installment of the anti-terrorist franchise gives John McClane the Gran Torino treatment with spectacular results. A fictionalized version of the Mumbai attack at the Taj Mahal hotel by Pakistani gunmen, retired cop McClane happens to be attending his grand-daughter’s wedding when jihadists take over the palatial hotel. Instead of demanding a ransom, the terrorists go room by room executing tourists, prostitutes, and maids with machine guns. Packed with action sequences, if there’s one guy you want to take on these murdering jihadists, it’s John McClane. Conflicted terrorist Ayman surrenders midway through the attack and joins the geriatric action hero to end the massacre, ultimately taking a bullet meant for McClane. The hotel guests are saved, the Indian military ends the siege, but alas, on the plane ride home, our gun-toting grandpa expires in his sleep. Let’s hope the test audience cards demand a new ending and John McClane doesn’t die hard*.
die hard
Selling the country house was emotional to say the least for the Muir brothers. Leaning on the white metal fence overlooking the Potomac River, Rodney stares for the last time at the family of Ospreys skimming the body of water outside the empty crib, a transcendent view that now belonged to NBA draft bust Methusaleh Dandridge (recently traded to the Wizards in exchange for cash, Memphis center Jamarcus Green, and power forward Li Jeng). Rodney blinks, unexpectedly sees a vision of Century City skyscrapers, magenta sun reflected off the glass skyline, where did that sudden yearning come from? Then, a text arrives—
Scott: going to Georgetown Starbucks
Rodney: murder Bux is closed
Scott: Violet wants to tell me something
Rodney: what?
Scott: …
Rodney: pregnant?
Scott: …
Rodney: just tried calling you
Scott: …
No text arrives. Rodney jumps into his car and heads for the Starbucks in Georgetown. Old Fort Road to Allentown Road. Right on 210 Indian Head Highway. Rodney slows down for the speed trap at Malcolm X Boulevard. Calls his brother again. Gets voicemail. Exits the ramp to 295 North.
Steering toward Washington, cellphone chirping, Rodney takes the call from an agency assistant at Omniscience/Ragnarök: “Please hold for Lester Barnes and Walter Nikolovski.”
Nikolovski: “Hey, it’s Walter. I thought you were dead.”
Rodney: “Stop reading coverage.”
Lester: “What’s new with Jew, Rodney?”
Rodney: “That’s a loaded question.”
Left onto I-695 for a minute, Rodney turns onto Southwest Freeway, past the Capitol building, veering over three lanes to get off at Maine Avenue, reminding him of Highland and the 101 North and the five lanes it takes to cross over to Barham Avenue—
Lester: “Nikolovski and I were talking about you at the celebration of life for Arthur Livingstone, such great creative instincts, we were wondering, have you ever considered being an agent?”
Independence Avenue to Ohio Drive, Whitehurst Freeway to K Street, Rodney says he can’t talk, he’s racing to save his brother from being murdered by their triplet sister who went insane in utero, tossed onto the operating room floor by careless doctors, a subcutaneous mass of hair, teeth, and eyeballs rescued by a hospital—
