⌘ tamer animals ⌘

handmade | illustrated | found | curated design

etude et altitude

Taylor P.Comment

I think this “script” was for an art school project that took a different direction. Clearly it is awful and I just only vaguely remember writing it.

The characters present in this are mostly unnamed. I'm not sure if they should have names or not,

actually. The main character, "He/Him," is masculine in a broad sense, but there is a certain sarcastic

element in his persona that makes him seem more temperamental as a boy-child in some instances. He is

very hard to please, exceedingly serious, and somewhat arrogant in his inherent preoccupation to him

self and the inclinations of his fortitude. The eternal skeptic. He seems chaste and contained by his

own inability to relate to people outside himself without regard to his innate cynicism. His polar

opposite and potential love interest, "Her/She," seems to embody everything that he is not: Laughter,

optimism, fun, a free spirit, and love unconditional. She comes into his life to show him what it means

to play again and be childlike and in the process he unfortunately shows her the underside of the world

and crushes the innocence she feels is such a precious possession. This leads both, in the end, to

reverse roles. Through her, he gains innocence and happiness and she gains some of his cynicism and

stoicism. Yet, in that respect, the longevity and love they both share for eachother seems to bind them

together in a relationship of freedom vs. restraint that overrides any logic that the two may possess.

Combustible but highly evolutionary, the story will show the beauty of freedom and restraint through

vivid imagery, beautiful places, passionate scenes (both negative and positive; extroversion vs.

introversion) and all the little love notes we leave behind.  

<OPENING CREDITS: An old propeller spins and we, the audience, are staring straight into the nose of an

old war plane, it pans out to an airfield and we see planes taking off on a cloudy day. A young man, in

his mid-twenties, is sitting near the landing strip, next to an older motorcycle, with big headphones on

and a small radio. We hear traffic controllers over the radio in the background. The only other sounds

we hear are the planes taking off and his repetitious breathing. He is sitting there, looking serious

and somewhat sullen, as a guy about his age walks up to him, motions for him to take his headphones off>

Friend: Wanna go grab a beer?

Him: Sure.

Friend: Cool. You're buyin'.

SCENE 1: The downtown bar

<The scene pans from one end of the bar to the other, as we are active participants in the random

conversations of its patrons. When we reach the end of the bar, the focus turns to a booth behind the

bar where the leading male sits with his friend. He is more uptight, hunched over his glass, and his

friend is sitting back in the chair, looking casual and relaxed; the conversations have the general roar

of people of various people talking at the same time and there is very light music playing in the


Friend: Jesus. 

Him: What?

Friend: <eyes him through the empty glass> Nothing. You just always look like you have a stick up your

ass or something.

Him: Oh. Yeah. ...Molly's on her way here.

Friend: ....and here I thought you liked her?

Him: <shrugs> She's okay. Not really my type.

Friend: Oh. Well, *I'd* do her. Speaking of doing something productive, I think I'm going to head after

this last one. Gotta work in the a.m.. <This guy is fucking whimsical as hell, kind of nerdy in that

typical "I played waaaaay too much Magic the Gathering in High School" way and a bit on the portly side>

<Karen Dalton's "Something on Your Mind" is playing during this time. She walks in and grabs a booth a

few spaces down from Him. She has a book with her and she orders a beer. We see a close-up shot of her

and see that she is a bit on the short side, somewhat eccentric in dress, but something about her seems

pretty; maybe even "fair." She seems very free and happy and she jokes with the bartender. She sips her

beer and stares across the room at all the bargoers, curious. When she sees Him staring back at her

momentarily, she immediately looks down at her book, losing her page in the struggle, and feigns


<He stares at her, a sardonic smirk on his face, as we hear the Symphonic Suite Op. 35 from Scheherazade

in the background; His gaze is broken when Molly enters, slamming the door, who seems to be the opposite

of Her. She is tall, blonde, and somewhat loud and crazy. The audience can tell she is already drunk.

His friend gets up to leave and we follow his gait out towards the door, seeing the people in booths

talking and laughing. She seems engrossed in her book but looks over briefly as he passes. When Molly

passes by, she looks up and her gaze is transfixed. She knows her.>

She: Molly? <quietly>

<Molly turns briefly and nearly does a doubletake when she sees her> 

Molly:  "HEY _________! I didn't know you would be here! Hey, ______, let's sit with _____. You aren't

waiting on anyone, are you? <she shakes her head and mouths "no" slowly> Good!

<He walks over casually with his drink and sits next to Molly across from Her.>

Molly: ________, this is my friend ______. We went to high school together!

<He casually says hello, and she only smiles knowingly and looks back down at her book. She dog-ears the

page and orders another drink.>

Him: You know you aren't supposed to do that. Librarians would come after you with butcher knives.

Her: Oh, I know. I'm a librarian, actually.

Him: Oh. <He twirls his glass around, subconscious, as Molly grabs his arm, seductively. He seems

completely disinterested in this.> What are you reading?

Her: Oscar Wilde. I love hi- 

Molly: -OH my God! WHAT SONG IS THIS? I love this fucking song!! <she starts dancing in the booth, which

makes both He and She smirk a little. Their eyes meet>

Her: So..... what do you do?

Him: Oh, I work at the airfield over by _____.

Her: Oh. Neat. <She mumbles something under her breath and rolls her eyes a bit. We never know what that

something is>

Him: You come to bars alone often?

Her: Oh, yeah. I like to watch people having fun. I find it interesting. 

<classical music continues to play. The camera circles around them and we see them talking, laughing, as

Molly continues to get more and more plastered and walks over and hangs all over some guy.>

Her: Should I take her home? She doesn't look so hot.

Him: Nah, it's okay. She lives near me. I'll take her home.

Her: Okay, well, it was nice meeting you. See you later, Moll. <she signs her tab and walks out into the

night, and we see a close-up shot of him, looking after her, as Molly kisses his neck> 


<He is sitting at the airfield again, in similar attire, watching the planes come in. His friend comes

over and sits next to him in silence for a while. He then turns to him>

Friend: So, didja fuck 'er?

Him: <takes his headphones off incredulously, even though it is obvious he heard him) What?

Friend: Molly?

Him: Jesus...<he just looks at him with a glare and gets up to walk the field>

<He is walking around, looking at the planes. He hops into one and pretends to fly it. His friend

follows him>

Friend: Got your pilot's license yet? 

Him: Nope.

Friend: How many more hours you got?

Him: About twenty, give or take a few.

<Classical music. Everything is poetic, with the planes aligned in perfect symmetry. We see Him drive

the plane around, with his friend waving a piece of cloth (like the lightsticks airports use). They are

like young boys playing. There are smiles and jeers. We then see a plane come in to land next to them as

they drive theirs around on the ground.>


 <aerial view of the library (downtown) inside. The view pans over bookshelves where people are reading,

the circulation desk, etc. We see a close-up of her sitting at a desk on the second level with a stack

of books and making paper airplanes and origami birds out of sheets of scrap paper. She looks bored;

listless. She is dressed unusually  She leans her head on her hand and sighs. It is very quiet in this

scene with no music at all. The camera zooms to see her writing notes. She is writing little euphemisms

and sticking them in the books while she is reshelving them. Just as she is doing this, she hears

someone exclaim about one of the notes that they found, holding it up proudly, like a treasure. She

turns back to her work and smiles. She glances down to the first level and sees a familiar face (shelves

blurred but we see His face clearly.) Close-up of her face. She visibly brightens.>

<He is not really sure what he is doing there or what he is looking for. He walks the aisles for a

while, in a slump. He walks to the computer kiosk and begins to type. He decides to look for "Oscar

Wilde." He jots a number down and is walking towards the fiction section when the camera follows a paper

airplane. The plane descends through the air into the aisle and hits him in the ear. >

Him: - the fuck?!

<he looks down at the crumpled plane on the ground and then looks up to see her standing above him on

the 2nd floor.>

She: ...I thought you said you were a pilot? <several people below shush her>

<He grimaces and walks up the stairs> 

Him: So you're a librarian. (a statement rather than a question...)

She: Only on Tuesdays and Columbus Day, Captain Obvious.

Him: Right.

She: <starts to grab some books to reshelve> What are you looking for? You don't seem like the bookish


Him: Gee, thanks. 

She: No, really, you can tell a lot about people by what they read (or don't read). You'd be surprised.

I bet you read aviation magazines mostly?

Him: ....No! <He is obviously lying>

She: Hmm.... <she looks through the stack she is carrying and pulls out a book. She jots something down

on a piece of paper and shoves it in before he notices> Here. Read this.

Him: <he holds the book and watches her walk down the aisle>


<Classical music. We see an open book and the sky above it. He is sitting at the airfield, book in palm.

He has yet to put it down. Several shots of him reading. One shot focuses on the book itself; the words

blur in and out of focus. Suddenly, his friend knocks the book on the ground. He picks it up, dusts it

off, and sets it to the side of him. It is then that he notices a piece of paper has fallen out. As he

tries to pick it up, the wind hits it. He walks after it and manages to pick it up. We see a quickly

scribbled note from Her that says, "If you like this book, meet me at ______at 8 o'clock Tuesday.") He

looks at his watch.>

Him: Fuck! <He picks up his stuff, gets quickly dressed, and hops on his motorcycle, wheels spinning

momentarily, leaving his friend standing there in the dust.>


<A coffeehouse. Classical music. We are following from his viewpoint as he enters the frame, walking

down the street. He is looking in the shop windows at his reflection, checking himself out. He looks

serious and slightly dissatisfied. He walks into the cafe and we see her sitting, prim and proper, with

a ball of yarn, furiously knitting away. She gazes up as he enters and smiles.>

She: You got my note, after all.

Him: So I did. You organize, you knit-- what other domestic attributes do you possess?

She: Well, I can't cook worth a damn. I can make a pretty spectacular bowl of frosted mini wheats


Him: <stone-faced> Really? Me, too.

She: <laughs and sips her coffee> I didn't know what you wanted to drink. I didn't even know if you

would show.

Him: Oh. Okay. <he walks up to the counter, tapping his hand lightly on his side. He seems unusually

nervous and nearly jumps with the barista asks him what he would like. We watch the process of coffee

bean to consumer in a span of twenty seconds, ending with a heart-shaped crema on a latte being

presented to him. He looks slightly disgusted and he takes it, holding it up a bit, eyeing is


Him: ...Thanks.

<We follow him as he walks back to the table to sit down, and she sits her knitting to the side.>

She: I figured you were stalking your favorite librarian, so I considered returning the favor. I didn't,


Him: Oh shit. I need a spoon. Hold on. <he walks back to the counter and we zoom in on her looking at

him. The room is colorful and calm, with the sun still peeking a bit through the large-pane the windows

(Java might be a good place for this, or Izzy's Coffee Den in Asheville>

<he sits back down and "Got a Way" by generifus begins playing. She smiles at him and they sit there,

talking and sipping coffee. Big mugs of coffee. Many scenes with close-ups of their faces sipping

coffee, laughing, smiling, talking. She hears a commotion outside, it seems, and looks out the window.

She freezes. Suddenly, she grabs his arm and pulls him onto the street, seeing a parade of some sort

outside. She is ecstatic; she is electric. He grabs her hand to slow her down and they walk together

down the sidewalk, watching the spectacle. He pulls her close to him. >


<"WAR PAINT" is what the small canister says in her apartment. He opens it, looks inside, sniffs it,

then puts it back down rather quickly. She walks out of the bathroom and opens a bottle of wine.








She: C'mon! What, are you afraid of flying or something?

Him: No...not afraid of flying, necessarily. Afraid of looking as ridiculous as you do right now, maybe.

She: Oh? Where's your spirit of adventure?

Him: I left it at home, along with my sanity, apparently.

She: <rolls her eyes and grabs his arm> Come on! Just try it once. I promise you will will have fun! If

not, at least *I* will have fun seeing you do it! Live a little! <she laughs>

Him: <pulls his arm away and crosses them> Well, now I definitely am not doing it.

She: Come onnnn!! 

Him: <stubbornly stands as she attempts to drag him into action> No. It's stupid. You are being such a

child right now. 

She: Pfft! You're no fun at all!<she grabs his hat off of his head and runs across the field in the

sunlight, arms spread wide, and he grimaces and watches after her, somewhat envious at her freedom>

Him: <he looks around for witnesses> Hey! Where are you going?!

She: <she stops, nearly out of breath, and raises her arms in the air to gesture at the majesty of the

sky, nearly yelling> To the moon! To the stars! <she puts his hat on her head and grins> You're so far

away! I think you look mad but I can't see the details of your face. What's the matter?

Him: My hat. You are so strange. Don't you want to fly in a *real* plane?

She: <she laughs> Nope! .....I'm afraid of heights! <she flails her arms out, making airplane noises and

continues across the field. He looks annoyed, looks around once more, and then he raises his arms to his


Him: Okay, this is totally stupid (to himself)......(to her) I'm only doing this because you want me to!

She: <yells over the approaching sound of a plane landing in the distance>... I know! 

Him: <he runs after her, weaving around the field, his arms out. He is smiling. He feels free for the

first time in ages>

<a shot from above of them flying at each other from different directions, passing one another, as

classical music plays> <shots of them chasing each other across the field in the sunlight> <She runs

toward him and wraps her arms around him, laughing, and they collapse into the grass>

<Joanna Newsom's "Bridges and Balloons" starts playing while they lay in the grass, staring at the

clouds. They are sprawled out, breathless, holding hands. She looks at him, her eyes glowing. He lays

there, a stern look on his face, staring into the abyss> <a time-lapse shot of them standing, shifting,

talking, connecting>