WOCKO THE BEAUT
Please enjoy the opening scenes of my new screenplay, based on Emile Mercier's classic comic strip
EXT: Mercier’s Sundries, the 1930s. In sepia tones we close slowly in on the shopfront, the window displaying various goods: a fine felt hat on a plaster bust; tinned meats; bolts of affordable cloth; latest records and comic books.
CUT back to a wide shot of the store, as a large CAR screeches to a halt out front, and FIVE ROBBERS jump out, bedecked in striped shirts and black eye masks. They pull revolvers and run into Mercier’s, setting the front DOORBELL clanging.
HOLD steady on the storefront as from within we hear MERCIER, the storekeeper.
MERCIER
Good morning, gents, what can I –
He is cut off by a torrent of shouting, “Everybody down”, “Open the till”, and general cacophony.
Camera closes in again, slowly, on the storefront, moving in on the window as the sounds of the robbery continue. As the window fills the frame, there is a moment of silence. Then, as the camera focuses in on the books and records in the window, there is a shout of “Hey!” and then a sudden flurry of meaty blows, as if, for example, five large men are getting beaten up. Cries of pain accompany the thwacks and thumps as the camera moves relentlessly in until it is fixed solely on one single comic book in the shop window.
On the cover of the book, a drawing of a tall, muscular man in a white Bonds singlet, black swimming trunks, and a bowler hat. He is posing with a foot atop a pile of robbers quite similar in appearance to the ones who have just attempted to rob the store. Above the picture in bold letters is the title of the comic:
WOCKO THE BEAUT
The comic book hero gazes out from the cover with a cocky smile, as one last THUD is heard from in the store. FADE OUT
FADE BACK in to the street exterior, where a police car pulls up, SIRENS blaring. The cops pile out of the car, to find the robbers sitting in a circle outside the shop, bound, gagged, and severely bruised. They stop and stare in wonder. The WOCKO THE BEAUT THEME begins to play on an old-time tack piano.
CUT TO the modern day. The same street, the same scene, in bright colour. The world has changed hugely. Traffic roars noisily and constantly past the shops. People hurry down the footpath and across the road at the lights. Mercier’s on the corner is no more: it is now a neon-lit convenience store.
Our focus is drawn to a skinny boy, about 11 or 12 but small for his age, in battleworn shorts and faded old t-shirt, sloping along the street in thongs. He turns in to the convenience store.
CUT TO: INT. Convenience Store
The skinny boy saunters in, like a kid who has reason to be wary of shopkeepers. This is JONAH, and he is our hero – or at least, one of them. He wanders up the back of the shop and loiters by the fridges. He studies the drinks intently. The CLERK behind the counter watches him, and gives voice to his concerns.
CLERK
Hey! If you’re not here to buy anything, clear out.
JONAH
I’m buying! I’m just making an informed choice, yeah?
CLERK
You know I’ve seen you before, right? I know you don’t buy shit in here. I’m watching you.
Jonah saunters around the shelves and takes a good hard look at the magazines. He picks up a Penthouse and starts leafing through it.
CLERK
Oi! Put that back! That’s not for you!
JONAH
How am I supposed to know what I want to buy if I can’t look at it?
CLERK
I’ll come out there, I swear.
JONAH
OK! God…
Jonah places the Penthouse back in the rack and idly flips through some more magazines. Suddenly, his eye is caught by something out of the ordinary. He looks behind a stack of Take 5s and sees, wedged down low on the rack, almost out of sight, a very old and very ratty looking comic book. A book with the familiar title, WOCKO THE BEAUT.
JONAH
(cont.)
Huh…
He glances over at the clerk, who is for the moment busy with another customer. Casually, he pulls out the comic book, folds it and sticks it in his back pocket. As the clerk deals with his customer, Jonah begins to move stealthily towards his main goal. Another customer comes in and steps up to the counter, ordering cigarettes. The clerk turns his back to get them, and Jonah pounces. Grabbing a box of donuts from a shelf at the front of the store, he bolts, knocking down all the boxes in his rush. The clerk spins round in alarm, his worst fear coming true.
CLERK
Hey! HEY!
He hits the alarm button beneath the counter, but he knows it’s futile.
CLERK
(cont.)
Shit!
By the time he came out of his secure customer service pod, he knows Jonah will be well out of range. The clerk thumps the counter.
CUT TO: INT. JONAH’S BEDROOM. It’s a cramped, grotty little space. One ramshackle old bed, a little bookcase filled with comic books, crack-riddled walls and a battered schoolbag on the floor, contents spilling across the threadbare carpet.
Jonah enters, he throws the comic book down among the detritus on the floor and sits on the bed to begin chowing down on the donuts.
As he eats there are heavy FOOTSTEPS from outside the room, thumping but unsteady, as of someone struggling to walk consistently.
Jonah looks up at the sound, puts the donuts down and gets up as slowly, silently and warily as he can. He creeps, trying not to make any noise, across the room to his door and begins to very gradually close it. Just as it is almost closed, there is a loud BANG as the door is struck hard from outside the room. The door swings violently open and Jonah is sent staggering across the room, falling to the floor.
Jonah’s father RAY enters, swaying unsteadily, drunk as a skunk and angry as a hornet. He glares wildly around before focusing on Jonah.
RAY
Got a call from your school.
Jonah cowers, bracing for blows but still trying to breathe defiance.
JONAH
So?
RAY
You didn’t go today did ya?
JONAH
What do you care?
RAY
I don’t like getting calls when I’m trying to work.
Jonah laughs, unwisely.
JONAH
Working hard, were ya?
RAY
If I get another call, I’ll…
Ray sways, fails to find the end of his sentence, and as a substitute lunges forward to grab Jonah by the arm, yanking him hard to his feet.
JONAH
Get off me, ya fat drunk!
RAY
You…you show your father some re…some re…respect!
Ray releases Jonah from his grip, only to BACKHAND him viciously across the face. Jonah flies across the room and hits the wall.
Ray, his honour apparently satisfied, grabs the donut box from the bed and staggers out, mumbling angrily. He SLAMS the door on his way.
Jonah sits on the floor, fighting hard against the tears rising in his eyes and holding his hand to his face where he was hit. He slowly gets up, shaking. He speaks in a hoarse whisper to the door behind which his father has retreated.
JONAH
Prick.
Jonah looks sadly around his room, contemplating the prison he’s found himself in. His eye lights on the comic book. He bends, picks it up and sits on the bed. He opens it and gazes fiercely at the pages, trying to prevent himself breaking down by force of his concentration. He fails: as he tries to read the book the tears flow and he begins to sob.
ZOOM IN on the cover of the book. Somehow, Wocko’s face has become angrier since last we saw him…