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breakinglight11I’m surprised to report how inspired I’ve felt on the idea of writing a Wicker Man remake, and have done a fair bit of work on it already. I like the idea of working in the idea that (minor spoilers for The Wicker Man) the Summerisle cult is basically an excuse to instrumentalize and consume women, which I am going to endeavor to weave throughout my adaptation.
This scene immediately follows the opening I posted yesterday, #18 - “Summerisle”. Its main purpose is to lay a lot of groundwork in as natural conversation as possible. Exposition is never easy to work in, and often boring, but I’m also trying do a little planting that will payoff later.
Day #19 - "Morrison"
From The Wicker Man
By Phoebe Roberts
~~~
EXT. DOCKS – CONTINUOUS
As the pilot helps her with her luggage, Elise observes the locals clustering on the pier. They are adults of various ages, some dressed in the practical garb of laborers and farmers, some with a distinctly bohemian aesthetic, with longer hair and more colorful, flowing garments. She raises a hand to them and waves.
ELISE: Ahoy! Good morning!
She waits a moment, but no one answers.
ELISE: My name is Detective Sergeant Elise Woodward. I’m here on an official investigation— I believe I’m expected?
A middle-aged man, BENJAMIN CAIRN, pushes to the front of the group, in sturdy canvas clothes and a flat cap.
CAIRN: Aye, ma’am. We’ve been expecting you.
ELISE: Sergeant will do, thank you. Now, I’d like to come ashore, if you’ll bring out the boat.
CAIRN: You sure you wish to come here, sergeant?
ELISE: Quite sure, sir. I’ve a job to do.
CAIRN: Aye, then. I’ll get the dinghy.
EXT. SUMMERISLE HARBOR – DAY
Cairn rows Elise and her bags in the small boat from the seaplane to the dock.
ELISE: And who might you be, sir?
CAIRN: I’m Benjamin Cairn, bailiff to Lord Summerisle. He’ll be wanting me to keep him informed of your doings while you’re on his land.
ELISE: He’s the authority here, then?
CAIRN: His family, ma’am. For the last five generations.
ELISE: Very well. Let him know I may need to speak with him at some point as well.
As they approach the quay, most of the onlookers are dispersing, but Cairn tosses a line to one of the men who remain. He hops onto the shore, then extends a hand to help Elise disembark.
CAIRN: I imagine he’ll be speaking with you. He’s none too pleased to have an outsider coming to meddle.
ELISE: Oh? And why is that?
Elise reaches back into the boat to pull her bags to shore.
CAIRN: Because there ain’t no missing girl.
ELISE: Are you so sure about that?
CAIRN: It’s a small island, sergeant. Everybody knows everybody else. If some girl went, every soul in the village would know about it.
ELISE: Well, in that case, perhaps you can at least tell me who she is.
Elise pulls out her smartphone and shows him an image of the redheaded girl’s photograph on the screen. Cairn smirks slightly at the phone before regarding the picture.
CAIRN: Afraid I’ve never seen her before. No girl like that lives on Summerisle.
ELISE: Really. How about the rest of you? Do any of you recognize her?
She holds up her phone to the remaining congregated people. One by one, they look at shake their heads.
ELISE: Her name is supposed to be May Morrison— does that ring any bells?
ALDER MACGREGOR, a man in plaid with a long white beard and ponytail, puts his hands in his overall pockets.
MACGREGOR: There’s a Rowan Morrison, down at the Green Man Inn.
ELISE: Oh? And where is that?
MACGREGOR: Town center, on Stony Lane. But that won’t help you none.
ELISE: Why?
MACGREGOR: Because there ain’t no such person as May Morrison.
ELISE: (Growls out a sigh)
Elise pulls up a navigation app on her phone.
ELISE: Stony Lane, you said?
CAIRN: Aye. But that shan’t help you either. Not out here.
He points at the device. The signal bars are at zero.
ELISE: Don’t tell me you don’t get service.
CAIRN: No mind, we’ll direct you. We know our own way on Summerisle.
This scene immediately follows the opening I posted yesterday, #18 - “Summerisle”. Its main purpose is to lay a lot of groundwork in as natural conversation as possible. Exposition is never easy to work in, and often boring, but I’m also trying do a little planting that will payoff later.
Day #19 - "Morrison"
From The Wicker Man
By Phoebe Roberts
~~~
EXT. DOCKS – CONTINUOUS
As the pilot helps her with her luggage, Elise observes the locals clustering on the pier. They are adults of various ages, some dressed in the practical garb of laborers and farmers, some with a distinctly bohemian aesthetic, with longer hair and more colorful, flowing garments. She raises a hand to them and waves.
ELISE: Ahoy! Good morning!
She waits a moment, but no one answers.
ELISE: My name is Detective Sergeant Elise Woodward. I’m here on an official investigation— I believe I’m expected?
A middle-aged man, BENJAMIN CAIRN, pushes to the front of the group, in sturdy canvas clothes and a flat cap.
CAIRN: Aye, ma’am. We’ve been expecting you.
ELISE: Sergeant will do, thank you. Now, I’d like to come ashore, if you’ll bring out the boat.
CAIRN: You sure you wish to come here, sergeant?
ELISE: Quite sure, sir. I’ve a job to do.
CAIRN: Aye, then. I’ll get the dinghy.
EXT. SUMMERISLE HARBOR – DAY
Cairn rows Elise and her bags in the small boat from the seaplane to the dock.
ELISE: And who might you be, sir?
CAIRN: I’m Benjamin Cairn, bailiff to Lord Summerisle. He’ll be wanting me to keep him informed of your doings while you’re on his land.
ELISE: He’s the authority here, then?
CAIRN: His family, ma’am. For the last five generations.
ELISE: Very well. Let him know I may need to speak with him at some point as well.
As they approach the quay, most of the onlookers are dispersing, but Cairn tosses a line to one of the men who remain. He hops onto the shore, then extends a hand to help Elise disembark.
CAIRN: I imagine he’ll be speaking with you. He’s none too pleased to have an outsider coming to meddle.
ELISE: Oh? And why is that?
Elise reaches back into the boat to pull her bags to shore.
CAIRN: Because there ain’t no missing girl.
ELISE: Are you so sure about that?
CAIRN: It’s a small island, sergeant. Everybody knows everybody else. If some girl went, every soul in the village would know about it.
ELISE: Well, in that case, perhaps you can at least tell me who she is.
Elise pulls out her smartphone and shows him an image of the redheaded girl’s photograph on the screen. Cairn smirks slightly at the phone before regarding the picture.
CAIRN: Afraid I’ve never seen her before. No girl like that lives on Summerisle.
ELISE: Really. How about the rest of you? Do any of you recognize her?
She holds up her phone to the remaining congregated people. One by one, they look at shake their heads.
ELISE: Her name is supposed to be May Morrison— does that ring any bells?
ALDER MACGREGOR, a man in plaid with a long white beard and ponytail, puts his hands in his overall pockets.
MACGREGOR: There’s a Rowan Morrison, down at the Green Man Inn.
ELISE: Oh? And where is that?
MACGREGOR: Town center, on Stony Lane. But that won’t help you none.
ELISE: Why?
MACGREGOR: Because there ain’t no such person as May Morrison.
ELISE: (Growls out a sigh)
Elise pulls up a navigation app on her phone.
ELISE: Stony Lane, you said?
CAIRN: Aye. But that shan’t help you either. Not out here.
He points at the device. The signal bars are at zero.
ELISE: Don’t tell me you don’t get service.
CAIRN: No mind, we’ll direct you. We know our own way on Summerisle.
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