Feature Film Teaser (script)

[Raoul Duke, Jr.]

I would like to ask all of you to give me feedback on this. I am working on a script for a feature film in the action-fantasy genre, and I'd like your feedback on this teaser. The script is approximately 3-4ths completed. Please review. I'd also ask you for the professional courtesy of not reproducing this post in any form, as the script even at this point is copyrighted intellectual property. I hope you enjoy reading this as much as I am enjoying writing it.

STORMFRONT





AN ORIGINAL MOTION PICTURE


by


Kieran Thorne
(copyright 2003, Daniel Rodgers)






FADE IN:

on a wasteland of ice and snow. We pull in on a shape, an OLD MAN half-buried in a drift. His face is framed by long white hair, and one of his eyes is covered by a rough black patch.

We watch as he stirs, comes to, and leaps up, fighting enemies that exist only in his memories. The howling wind subsides, and we hear him screaming.

Suddenly, there is a


VOICE (O.S.)

Be still, Father. We are with you.

The old man looks around, startled. Then anger darkens his face.


OLD MAN

Show yourself, Demon. Show me your face.


VOICE (O.S.)

Hold your ire, Father. We are *of* you.

The old man shivers against fear and the cold.


OLD MAN
(impatient)

Enough!

He looks around him again, spots a low stone wall, smoke rising up from chimneys beyond it. Running to strangers for help isn't his way, but it's better than freezing to death. He starts to run for the wall.


VOICE (O.S.)

That way lies Death, Father. Approach it not.

The old man utters a sharp, mirthless laugh, still moving.


OLD MAN

Death surrounds me, Demon, and I *fear* it not.
(wind picks up, wild and biting)
But I would be out of this damned wind!

He is almost at the wall now; spotting a gate, he moves toward it.


VOICE (O.S.)
(resigned)

We can warn you, Father, but we cannot bend your will.


CUT TO:

a crow, gliding serenely over the wall toward the old man. The wind that buffets the old man doesn't even touch it.


CROW (V.O.)

See this golgotha, then.
But see it through *our* eyes, that you may see the truth.

The old man shivers.


OLD MAN

If this world is in disguise, Demon,
I don't think I want to see the face beneath.


CROW (V.O.)

That is a choice best not left to you, Father.

It is too late for argument; the crow is upon him. The old man staggers under the combined impact of the bird and the battering wind. Its beak caresses his throat, his ear, and his face is sheathed in terror. Then the crow begins to chant:


CROW (V.O.)

We set our hearts to burning
We set our eyes aflame
We set our path on learning
Our enemy's true name
The hour of our destruction
Draws near, quickens our pace
Make plain the source of chaos
Make plain our Enemy's face

There is a FLASH of lightning, and we

CUT TO:

another view of the city. Harsh and arid, the wind still carries the debris of the world through which it dances; but what stirs on the air here is not snow but finely ground ash.


CROW (V.O.)

Welcome home, Father.

If he has heard what the crow said, the old man gives no sign. Instead, he steps toward the gate, through which he can see the broken houses of the village casting shattered shadows into the rubble-strewn streets. He begins to walk toward them --

The crow reaches behind the old man's ear, pinches the soft flesh there.


CROW (V.O.)

*No!*

The old man opens his mouth to curse it, but the crow's voice cuts his words down--

Look *closer!*

He does -- and sees tiny, filthy talonned things scurrying through the trash, up and down walls, things whose fiery eyes leave searing tracers in the growing darkness.


OLD MAN

What are those --


CROW
(impatient)

Quiet! Watch.

As the old man watches, the things race up the side of a pedestal, up the foot of a STATUE. It is a statue of a woman, regal in dress and bearing.

The old man focuses on her face, and we

CUT TO:

an earlier time. The old man walks into a grandly furnished bedroom. The woman is sitting there pretending to sew. We can see by her face that she is inwardly fuming.


OLD MAN

How goes it, Vena?


VENA
(coldly)

What is it to you?

The old man hangs his cloak on a peg carved upon the door.


OLD MAN

I know it troubles you... that I sent them away.
Understand me: it *is* for the best.

Vena stands, her arms at her sides, her face a mask of defiance.


VENA

The *best*! Best for whom? Them?
Sent away from their family to be raised by mortals?
Denied their heritage to protect them from some
ludicrous "catastrophe" that only *you* have foreseen?


OLD MAN
(wearily)

Vena --


VENA
(shouting)

No! Your way is *not* the right way! Not this time!
*Damn* you!

She screams -- and at the sound, everything in the room explodes. Shards of furniture, glass and porcelain become a whirlwind of destruction.

The old man takes his sobbing wife in his arms. He lifts a hand, and the destruction freezes in midair. With a gesture, the debris returns to its assigned forms and places.

CUT TO:

the present. Vena's statue stands oblivious as the chittering things race up its leg. The old man blinks, stares, then shouts:


OLD MAN

You! Fucking bastard rats! Get off --


CROW:

Ssshh!


OLD MAN
(steps forward)

No! I've got to --


CROW
(deafening)

*Silence!* If those things swarm you now,
*none* of this matters!

The old man watches as the chittering things race up te side of the statue, swarm over its head... and bore through the stone as if it were warm flesh.

And in the diseased half-light of this burned down world, the stone *screams*.

Then the crow is chanting again, a rhythmic cadence that lulls the old man's eyes closed:


CROW:

We dream of Time and Memory
We dream the Past awake
We dream us there to show this one
The future that's at stake
We dream us back to Asgeyr's fall
We dream the battle through
And all of this we pray we dream
To make the dream untrue

CUT TO:

the city in flames. The old man stumbles, his eyes tearing against the stench of ionization and the smoke of a raging battle.

He looks up as someone or something roars not two feet from him. Before him stands a gigantic proto-human animal wielding a massive warhammer. The old man steps aside barely in time as the hammer falls.

The giant is killed by the crow. The old man barely notices, for on the horizon he can *almost* see Things flailing, thrashing about in sunlight that denies them, Things that dance to the music of murder.

He has had enough of this madness. He turns to run -- but his path is blocked by a man on horseback, a man whose face is framed by wild white hair whipping in the wind. (REVISE PARAGRAPHS I AND II, ADD DESCRIPTION OF OLD MAN)

Time stretches as the old man and the figure on horseback stare into identical faces, one the face of a weary and confused old man... the other the face of a terrified god.


OLD MAN ON HORSE
(stern)

Worldstorm.


Realization dawns on the old man's face, then anguish.


OLD MAN

*No!*

FADE TO:

the icy wasteland. The old man falls to his knees in the snow, the crow standing serenely a few feet away.


OLD MAN

Help me! I *can't* be the highest power in this place!
If there is someone else, someone greater than I am, *help* me!

The wind howls its defiance.


CROW

There can be no help for you, Father.
You have looked on the First Ones, and you are damned for it.
There is only one road for you now.


OLD MAN
(looks up)

Tell me.


CROW

You must sacrifice, as you have done before.
Remember.

Thunder cracks again, and we

CUT TO:

An image of the old man hanging by his neck from a tree.

CUT TO:

the old man, light dawning in his good eye. He knows what he must do. He stands, begins to walk, throwing off his cloak and beginning to haltingly unfasten the leather thong that holds his shirt closed against the chill wind.


OLD MAN

Where is Death, Demon? How will I find my way?

The crow is silent a moment... then offers all the wisdom it has:


CROW

It is a dark road, Father, and swift.
Keep your eye upon the Way.

The old man looks up at the crow, respect and admiration in his eye. He offers it a weak smile against the cold.


OLD MAN

What is your name, Demon?
If you are to be my guide through Helle, tell me your name.


CROW
(quietly)

We are Legion.

The old man nods, then stumbles, falls... his chest rises, falls... and does not rise again.

CUT TO:

darkness. Deep and penetrating, the darkness surrounds the old man and fills him. In the darkness he can sense a presence.


OLD MAN

Who's there?

Out of the darkness, many voices speak as one, angelic.


VOICES (V.O.)

You have made sacrifice, yourself unto yourself,
and it is good to us.
Now speak your will, that we may see it done.


OLD MAN

Who are you?


VOICES (V.O.)

We are what was. We are what is. We are what will be.
We are Stormangel.

The darkness is flooded, burnt away by a light so intense the old man cringes against it.


OLD MAN

What do you want from me?


STORMANGEL (V.O.)

You were called Lord of the Wild Hunt once.
Ride, for the Hunt is on.


OLD MAN
(shivers)

Kill those Things, you mean. But how --


STORMANGEL

The First Ones mean to use
your traitor brother, Loki, as their vessel.
They hope that by sending him to Midgeyr,
they can possess the Mortals. From there, they mean to
become one with the Stormcore itself.


OLD MAN

The Core! But that's --


Stormangel laughs; it is a terrifying sound.


STORMANGEL (V.O.)

Impossible? You forgot, Odin... *we* are impossible.
Regardless of notions of possibility or impossibility,
they mean to try.
Your brother wears your Aspect. Stopping him may be
more challenge than you can hold.


OLD MAN

And if I can't stop him?


STORMANGEL (V.O.)

Rally your children in Midgeyr. It is their time.
This is why you sent them.

The old man has one last question for the being who calls itself Stormangel; the question nearly catches in his throat, but then:


OLD MAN
(timidly)

Who am I? Who am I *now?*

The old man shivers against a sudden chill


STORMANGEL (V.O.)

You are your world.
Your world is ash now... and so are you.

A sudden wave of force throws the old man, shrieking, back into the darkness.

CUT TO:

Legion, perched atop the old man's chest. A thin layer of ice has formed, but still the bird stands vigil, waiting.

Footsteps approach, crunching through the hardened snow. We

CUT TO:

a tall man in a black duster and broad-brimmed black hat. It is ASH. Legion looks up.


ASH

I'll need wheels, and a weapon.


LEGION

Follow.

Legion flies from the body in a blast of black wings.

Ash has had enough of the ice and cold. He concentrates, and in a flash of lightning, the illusion of winter is gone.

Legion leads him to a door set in the wall. Ash opens it and walks a ramp down into a subterranean room, his eyes burning through the darkness within.

Inside he finds a motorcycle. He looks on it and smiles. His smile fades as he looks to a rack on the wall and sees a pistol-gripped shotgun there.


LEGION
(nods at shotgun)

The Hammer.

Ash takes it down, inspects it, then drops it into a scabbard on the motorcycle.

These are all Ash needs. He swings a leg over the saddle of the bike, kicks it into roaring life,


LEGION

The Storm is coming, Father.


Ash revs the bike, letting its roar echo across a dead landscape. He looks at the crow.


ASH

Then we go to meet it!

With that, he blasts up the ramp and toward a horizon on fire with sunrise.

And in his wake, thunder rolls.

[Raoul Duke, Jr.]

So, is this a film you'd go see?
Any other comments?

[Eleas]

So, is this a film you'd go see?
Any other comments?

Well written, but ultimately very confusing. It's understandable but not on a gut level. I suggest rewrites upon rewrites. That's what I'm doing to my own.

But the core, a battle between the last of Asgård's gods with modern tech and a lot of mystique, could very well prove potent.

[Raoul Duke, Jr.]

Eleas,

I've actually heard that from a few people -- can you explain why it's confusing? I'm open to doing what I can to improve it, but I really don't know what I can improve and still maintain the opening "background story" without engaging in overt exposition (the writer's biggest no-no).

[Eleas]

Eleas,

I've actually heard that from a few people -- can you explain why it's confusing? I'm open to doing what I can to improve it, but I really don't know what I can improve and still maintain the opening "background story" without engaging in overt exposition (the writer's biggest no-no).

This is just going to be a quick note. Real life concerns are bad at the moment, so I don't have a lot of time.

I think it has to do with the fact that there are too many unknowns. A trailer or a teaser has to present one tantalizing mystery to think of. You have several. What time is it? What powers do this guy have? Why did he create the storm? What genre is the movie going to be? What's the movie going to be about?

Just too much, no matter how prettily formulated. I can keep up, barely, and I grew up on stories from the Asatro.

Also, the concept of angels seemed to fit in with the rest rather badly. But maybe that's just me.

[Raoul Duke, Jr.]

Eleas,

I've actually heard that from a few people -- can you explain why it's confusing? I'm open to doing what I can to improve it, but I really don't know what I can improve and still maintain the opening "background story" without engaging in overt exposition (the writer's biggest no-no).

This is just going to be a quick note. Real life concerns are bad at the moment, so I don't have a lot of time.

I think it has to do with the fact that there are too many unknowns. A trailer or a teaser has to present one tantalizing mystery to think of. You have several. What time is it? What powers do this guy have? Why did he create the storm? What genre is the movie going to be? What's the movie going to be about?

Just too much, no matter how prettily formulated. I can keep up, barely, and I grew up on stories from the Asatro.

Also, the concept of angels seemed to fit in with the rest rather badly. But maybe that's just me.

Actually, most of those are answered in the teaser or immediately after. He has a Harley-Davidson (or clone thereof); therefore we know it's close to present-day. He's one of the Aesir (Norse gods); we don't know exactly how far his power goes, but we know it's probably formidable. I do need to correct the impression that he created the Worldstorm (a re-interpreted version of the Ragnarok). The movie will be much like Star Wars in genre in that it is sword-and-sorcery in non-S&S clothing. The movie (should make this clearer in the teaser, I suppose) is about Odin (reborn as Ash) and his three "human" children taking on Loki, who is possessed by the thoroughly nasty Lovecraftian-styled Elder Gods.