Thinning out the herd

I’m finally at the stage in this horror script when people are going to start seriously dying (as opposed to the comedy dying they’ve been doing up until now). The body count and the terror escalates throughout the script, but for the first half there are only two murders, meaning most scenes have ten people in them.

Ten people! That’s ten people to introduce, ten people all with something to say, things they don’t want to say and things they say and instantly regret. Ten lots of opinions, ten lots of problems and ten egos which need massaging.

In short, it’s a ten-fold pain in the arse.

Half of them don’t listen to the others, one wants to wind everyone up, one’s secretly (yet accidentally) plotting to murder everyone and one just won’t pay any attention – she just makes facile comments and wanders off on her own tangent.

They say herding cats is difficult, but herding imaginary people is fucking impossible. I’m finding the scenes drag on for pages and pages before I have to step in and tell them all to shut up.

“Listen you lot, you can have two lines each – that’s it, so make them count. ”

Then they just start bickering.

I swear, I’m a quarter of a gnat’s pube away from making six of them mute; but then I’d just have them writing shit down or gesticulating or communicating with their eyebrows or something. Fuck it, maybe I can relocate this to a mute, limbless … no, better yet: a coma convention! People wheel in their comatose loved ones and leave them for the weekend! Only one of them isn’t comatose and murders the others and the single orderly/nurse has to work out which one.

Yes! I’m loving this. I could have twenty minutes of bodies lying around the screen with nothing happening and just when the audience get bored and look away, one of them leaps up and slits someone’s throat!

Then another twenty minutes of lying still before the next one.

As far as I can tell, there’s only one flaw with this plan … it’s fucking shit.

Oh well, back to herding cats.

Never mind, most of the fuckers will be dead in a minute.

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Categories: Random Witterings, Sad Bastard | 13 Comments

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13 thoughts on “Thinning out the herd

  1. The voices in your comments are telling you to kill.

    Kill them, Phill.

    Kill them all.

  2. Are you fucking crazy?

    If I kill them all there won’t be a sequel.

  3. You know you want to.

    Think of the blood, Phill.

    Think of the red, spurting jets of blood.

  4. Don’t kill them all. That just depresses me. Texas Chainsaw Massacre just gives me one shrieking, possibly insane woman getting away on a truck, and I love it. If she’d have died… I doubt I would have seen it more than once.

  5. Ah. I’ve just stared a treatment for something in a similar vein. I’ve a suspicion that my shower of nine pains in the ass will start acting like pains in the ass as soon as they get the chance to talk. Ingrates.

  6. Go for the mute option, Gerry – save yourself.

  7. gerryhayes

    Not sure. It might be difficult to pitch something that requires a little woman, signing in the corner of the screen like on BBC after three in the morning.

  8. You’re kidding? She’s your murderer! A demented, possessed signer who uses the sign of the devil to … oh no, you’re right. It’s a stupid idea.

  9. You can’t give them all flu with a sore throat – one where the vocal chords stop working, or talking causes intense pain?

    Oh well, I guess they’re all dead now anyway.

    next time maybe. 😉

  10. Phill, you’re blog is snowing again!

    It’s very disconcerting.

  11. D’oh!

    your

  12. As long as it doesn’t lie and obscure my fabulously important ramblings.

  13. Pingback: Kick bollock scramble « The Jobbing Scriptwriter

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