The
Island
Screenplay
A Screenplay based on
the Novel by the same title
by James Freeman
WGAE Registration Number 126066-00
EXT. DUCK BLIND ON ECKLES LAKE - PRE DAWN
Screen opens to the black waters of a lake and the flush of a hundred
mallard ducks as they rise in panic, from what is obscured to the viewer.
A johnboat (an 18' flat bottomed camouflaged boat from which ducks are
shot) is poled slowly into the scene. Still almost dark, a lone old man
at the stern seen only in silhouette pushes the boat to a huge double
duck blind the size of a squat two car garage rising on driven poles from
the lakebed. The blind is covered to the water line with willow branches
and cornstalks. He pauses, straightens, reaches to the first of two five
gallon cans, unscrews the cap and pours the liquid on the water, where
it floats under the blind. A second can is opened and poured.
He pushes the boat gently back from the kerosene covered water and crouches.
CLOSE UP of gnarled hands striking a wooden match. On the right wrist
a silver and turquoise bracelet of unusual design with the silver initials
GH is seen. The match is flipped out and into the water.
A roaring conflagration occurs, the old man in the boat caught sharply
in silhouette.
TITLE AND CREDITS COME UP
CUT TO
EXT. ECKLES LAKE - MID DAY
Broad shot of Eckles Lake, the burned duck blind and a johnboat floating
in a scurf of ashes, two men wearing hip boots, cuffed at the knee like
fireman's boots, swing their legs in idle circles over the gunwale.
CAMERA CLOSES ON
HANK EDSON
Shit! Two weeks work, the season ten days away and that sonofabitch
burns me out.
DWIGHT
Gart?
HANK EDSON
You better believe Gart. Gart Haggard's behind every burning, breakin'
in, low life bit of mischief ever done on this island.
DWIGHT
And?
HANK EDSON
And now I build her again. And if she burns again, I'll kill that sonofabitch.
DWIGHT
You don't mean that.
HANK EDSON
No, I don't mean that, but I'll find that sonofabitch on a bar stool
in the Brick Tavern or here on my land where he's got no right to be and
beat him two thirds of the way to death.
DWIGHT
C'mon Hank, he must be seventy years old. Maybe more.
HANK EDSON
You're right old buddy, that ain't gonna do. But something's gonna give.
That old bastard's been breakin' and burnin' the twenty years I've owned
this place.
DWIGHT
The law . . .
HANK EDSON
The law!
(laughs)
The law don't mean shit. He's local, been local, growed up local like
his grandaddy. The law don't work against local.
DWIGHT
You'll never get this blind back up before the season.
HANK EDSON
Hell I won't. Get her up if I have to work nights to do it.
CUT TO
EXT. PARKING LOT IN SMALL LOCAL TOWN - NIGHT
Shot from across the two lane road to a shabby building covered in tarpaper
brick, with a Pabst Blue Ribbon sign, BRICK TAVERN. Camera follows POV
across road, between cars and into building.
CUT TO
INT.TAVERN - NIGHT
A beatup pool table is seen to the left, several high school kids playing,
several more watch. The balance of the interior is given to a long wood
bar, mismatched stools, typical mirrored backbar lined with bottles a
line of dusty stuffed ducks suspended on wires the length of the bar.
Several men sit at the bar, farmer types nursing beers. A burly old man
in camouflage sits at the far end, his face not seen. He bangs down an
empty glass and in CLOSE UP a turquoise and silver bracelet is seen as
he shoves the glass toward the barmaid. The crash of breaking pool balls
coincides with the CLOSE UP.
GART HAGGARD
Guess that'll do her, Charla.
BARMAID-CHARLA
See ya, Gart.
The old man shoves back and walks out of the shot. A high school boy,
tall and gawky, but of athletic build slides into the seat as the barmaid
wipes the bar.
KID IN SALOON
He don't change much, does he Charla?
BARMAID-CHARLA
Who, Gart? Nah, he's just here and always has been, like this wreck
of a tavern. He don't look a damn bit different than when I came to town
twenty years ago.
(chuckles, retrieves her cigarette from the ashtray and taps off a long
ash)
I just get older and more beat up and this joint gets older and more
beat up and old Gart, he stays the same. Sometimes I wonder if he's human.
KID IN SALOON
Bought me a beer last week, just like he was my grandaddy or something,
sat here and jabbered away. Tonight he don't know who I am, might be someone
who just fell in off the highway. Can I bum a smoke, Charla?
BARMAID-CHARLA
The coach catch you in here Dicky, pounding down Blue Ribbons and smoking
my cigarettes, he'll set your sorry ass on the bench a week.
(reaches for the pack under the bar, shakes out a cigarette and offers
it)
KID IN SALOON
What's he like, Charla? Eighteen years I been growin' up in this godforsaken
town and I still can't figure the old man out, what makes him tick. Seems
he'll work all day in the sun, helping some fella fix up an' old beater
truck and the next week damn near kill him over something don't mean shit.
One time buy me a beer, next time don't even know me.
BARMAID-CHARLA
That's just his way, Dicky. Always been an' always will be. Gart don't
like anyone to know him too well.
KID IN SALOON
Shit, Charla. That's what everybody says, it's just his way.
(takes a long drag on the cigarette, glances at the pool table)
Is it true, that story they tell about Gart and the Game Warden?
BARMAID-CHARLA
Yeah, it's true. You woulda been still in diapers back then. New fella
from the state Department of Conservation took over here in Mason County
and I guess he figured it was his ticket up the line to something bigger
in Springfield. Gonna throw his weight around and make a name for himself.
Not that old a guy, all spit and polish, wore one of them Smokey Bear
hats dead level on his head.
(takes a drag, glances at the Blue Ribbon clock over the bar)
FADE TO
Sepia silent film of the scene as Charla unfolds the story in voice-over.
BARMAID-CHARLA (VO)
Folks weren't all that crazy about him, don't like a fella takes his
wardening all that serious, particularly with the locals and particularly
on their own land. But there was no gettin' around this guy, he'd as soon
bust a farmer killing a deer out of season as he would some overshooter
from Chicago. Didn't matter if the farmer had kids and a bad year with
the crops, just mattered that it was the law. Folks will put up with that
shit during the season, but somehow it don't seem right to have the law
in the woods off season. Anyway he knew about Gart and some of the other
old boys who still market hunted now and then. Hell, everyone knew about
Gart, even in Springfield, maybe especially in Springfield. This fella
thought he'd build a name and put a stop to all that.
CUT TO
KID IN SALOON
How 'bout another Blue, Charla?
BARMAID-CHARLA
You got money, Dicky?
KID IN SALOON
Aw c'mon, Charla. I only got these two quarters tonight an' I may just
play some pool. I'll pay you Tuesday.
(Charla sighs, pops the cap on a beer)
This Screenplay is
available in the complete version by request.
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