cool.
The man facing him is lean, hollow cheeked and dressed in gray. Detached and efficient, he looks like a cop or an accountant. His name is HOLDEN and hes all business, except for the sweat on his face.
The room is large and humid. Rows of salvaged junk are stacked neatly against the walls. Two large fans whir above their heads.
LEON
Okay if I talk?
Holden doesnt answer. Hes centering Leons e
cool off.
John, well work this afternoon.
When I first bought this house,
people thought I was crazy.
Its in, um,
the middle of nowhere.
I like, uh,
the middle of nowhere.
How long have you
and John been...?
Uh, three weeks.
Our regular rehearsal
pianist was sick,
so John filled in.
Thanks for letting
him bring me.
Not at all.
Im glad, uh, Johns happy.
I dont, um, do this,
uh, on purpose, uh.
Oh,
shown a very enthusiastic Lorenzo DiBonaventura (big cheese at Warners, and a genuinely cool guy) my references (Svankmajers "Alice" and Polanskis "Rosemarys Baby"), everyone at the studio feigned ignorance when Jon Peters nixed my vision. It was like I had crawled out on this creative limb and when I looked around all of my supporters were gone and Jon-fucking-Peters was sawing the branch off.
PITCH BLACK
Screenplay
by
David Twohy
Based on material by Ken and Jim Wheat
Revised First Draft
3/3/98
Though mentioned often in the script, the creatures in PITCH BLACK are
seldom seen at length; rather, they are glimpsed, they are heard, they are
felt. They are, really, the embodiment of your nocturnal fears: A howling
coyote that jars you awake; the painting on the wall that comes to life