31 Plays in 31 Days 2025, #20 - “The Inn”
Aug. 20th, 2025 10:35 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
breakinglight11Scene three of my Wicker Man remake idea. I was quite surprised at how much I’ve wanted to work on this, but the feeling of creative flow is one of the best things ever, so I’m going with it as long as it lasts.
This scene is the first one that I feel like I’m really able to start inflecting the original story with the main theme I’d like to inject— the idea that the cult is an excuse to instrumentalize and consume women. I’m hoping to introduce it slowly but I think here’s a good place to start making it perceptible. That way, I can move away from the idea that the problem is the pagan-ness— instead, the problem will be patriarchy. THE PROBLEM IS ALWAYS PATRIARCHY!
Day #20 - "The Inn"
From The Wicker Man
By Phoebe Roberts
~~~
EXT. ROAD – DAY
Hefting her bag with one arm and pulling her wheelie behind her with the other, Elise walks as briskly as she can into town, bumping along the cobblestones as she goes.
On her walk, her keen detective’s eye takes in the place. Even for a rural farming community, the place is primitive and quaint, as if it were frozen in an earlier time. She passes building of planks and stone and thatch, adorned with the growth of vines and charms of ancient superstitions. It has the quality of something straight from a fairytale.
EXT. LAWN - DAY
She comes upon a group of children playing in the grass, chanting and chasing one another. She pauses a moment to watch them surround one of the little girls, pushing her between them like a pinball. Elise grows concerned as they encircle the girl with their bodies, but then they spring back and scatter as she laughs, to join the crowd as they surround another little girl.
EXT. THE GREEN MANN INN – DAY
She continues on until she comes upon the sign for Stony Lane. She turns down it to see a wood and stone tavern that could have stood unchanged for the last three hundred years. The baaing of goats can be heard from a paddock abutting the building, and there is warm yellow light in the windows.
Elise makes her way up the path to the front door, past a shingle bearing the image of a face with wild hair crowned with leaves and vines. THE GREEN MAN.
INT. THE GREEN MAN INN – CONTINUOUS
The interior is warm and lively, with décor reminiscent of a hunting lodge. It is much more crowded than Elise expected, full of men and women, laborers and bohemians alike, drinking and carousing. She picks her way awkwardly through them with her bulky luggage, and she checks her watch incredulously at the time of day.
At last she finds an empty table at which to stow her things, and takes a moment to peer around the room. She takes note of the waitresses, wearing cheesy wench costumes like one would see at a Renaissance Faire, and floral coronets with trailing ribbons down their backs. She observes their flirtations with the customers and frowns in distaste.
INT. GREEN MAN BAR - CONTINUOUS
As Elise considers how to proceed, a man with a fiddle stands to scratch out a tune. Another springs up and begins to sing.
SINGER 1: “Much has been said of the strumpets of yore,
Of wenches and bawdy house queens by the score,
But I sing of a baggage that we all adore—”
Everyone turns their attention to join in on the last line of the chorus:
ALL: “The landlord's daughter!”
A few other men lean into the waitresses and take up the verses.
SINGER 2: “You'll never love another…”
SINGER 3: “Although she's not the kind of girl
To take home to your mother!”
A waitress giggles and shoves the third singer playfully away. The first man steps in and sweeps her into his arms.
SINGER 1: “Her ale, it is lively and strong to the taste.”
He spins her into the arms of the next man.
SINGER 2: “'Tis brewed with discretion – never with haste.”
She is shoved into the grasp of the third.
SINGER 3: “You can have all you like if you swear not to waste…”
ALL: “The landlord's daughter!”
The first man mimes an obscene rising with his forearm.
SINGER 1: “And when her name is mentioned,
The parts of every gentleman,
Do stand up at attention!”
He pokes at the waitress’s bottom with the fist of that arm to make her jump. Elise rises sharply from her seat. The other two men hoist the waitress between them onto their shoulders.
SINGERS 2 and 3: “Oh, nothing can delight so,
As does the part that lies between,
Her left toe, and her right toe!”
With their free hands, the men splay her legs out and apart, as she shrieks in laughing outrage and clings to them. The bar erupts in hilarity, cut off only by the sound of Elise banging sharply on the bar.
ELISE: Enough! Let’s see you put her down and take your hands off!
They turn in mocking challenge toward her.
SINGER 1: Yeah? And who are you to spoil a bit of fun?
She flips out her warrant card and gets in his face.
ELISE: I’m a police detective in Her Majesty’s service. And I don’t think this is proper treatment for a woman while she’s trying to do her job.
The men scoff, but when they see Elise is not backing down, they set the waitress back down on her feet.
SINGER 2: Well. If that’s an order.
WAITRESS: They didn’t mean nothing by it.
Elise is a little surprised at the woman’s equanimity, but pushes ahead.
ELISE: I’m here because I’m inquiring into the disappearance of a girl by the name of May Morrison.
SINGER 2: Ain’t no such girl as that living here.
ELISE: I don’t suppose any of you have heard of her?
There is a murmur in the negative and a shaking of heads.
ELISE: (Sighs) Right. Well, I was told that there is a Rowan Morrison I can find here. I’d like to make an interview, so can anyone direct me to her?
ALL: (Derisive laughter)
SINGER 1: Stokes, woman, you’re even more lost than you think.
ELISE: Beg your pardon?
SINGER 2: You won’t find her here either! There ain’t no such person as Miss Rowan Morrison neither!
SINGER 3: How d’you suppose you’ll find a lost child when you don’t know your arse from your elbow?
They room explodes in raucous laughter as Elise’s frustration grows.
ROWAN: (OS) All right, lads, that’ll be enough now.
Elise turns to see a young man enter— late twenties, tall and handsome, with wavy dark hair and an ironic, foxlike grin.
ROWAN: What they mean to say, ma’am, is that you won’t find her because that’s me— I’m Rowan Morrison. I run this place.
He extends a hand to shake while the men snicker.
ELISE: I see.
ROWAN: Here, now, we’ll take a walk out where a body can hear himself think. I’ve got to tend to the goats anyhow.
He gestures and moves to the door. After a moment, Elise follows.
This scene is the first one that I feel like I’m really able to start inflecting the original story with the main theme I’d like to inject— the idea that the cult is an excuse to instrumentalize and consume women. I’m hoping to introduce it slowly but I think here’s a good place to start making it perceptible. That way, I can move away from the idea that the problem is the pagan-ness— instead, the problem will be patriarchy. THE PROBLEM IS ALWAYS PATRIARCHY!
Day #20 - "The Inn"
From The Wicker Man
By Phoebe Roberts
~~~
EXT. ROAD – DAY
Hefting her bag with one arm and pulling her wheelie behind her with the other, Elise walks as briskly as she can into town, bumping along the cobblestones as she goes.
On her walk, her keen detective’s eye takes in the place. Even for a rural farming community, the place is primitive and quaint, as if it were frozen in an earlier time. She passes building of planks and stone and thatch, adorned with the growth of vines and charms of ancient superstitions. It has the quality of something straight from a fairytale.
EXT. LAWN - DAY
She comes upon a group of children playing in the grass, chanting and chasing one another. She pauses a moment to watch them surround one of the little girls, pushing her between them like a pinball. Elise grows concerned as they encircle the girl with their bodies, but then they spring back and scatter as she laughs, to join the crowd as they surround another little girl.
EXT. THE GREEN MANN INN – DAY
She continues on until she comes upon the sign for Stony Lane. She turns down it to see a wood and stone tavern that could have stood unchanged for the last three hundred years. The baaing of goats can be heard from a paddock abutting the building, and there is warm yellow light in the windows.
Elise makes her way up the path to the front door, past a shingle bearing the image of a face with wild hair crowned with leaves and vines. THE GREEN MAN.
INT. THE GREEN MAN INN – CONTINUOUS
The interior is warm and lively, with décor reminiscent of a hunting lodge. It is much more crowded than Elise expected, full of men and women, laborers and bohemians alike, drinking and carousing. She picks her way awkwardly through them with her bulky luggage, and she checks her watch incredulously at the time of day.
At last she finds an empty table at which to stow her things, and takes a moment to peer around the room. She takes note of the waitresses, wearing cheesy wench costumes like one would see at a Renaissance Faire, and floral coronets with trailing ribbons down their backs. She observes their flirtations with the customers and frowns in distaste.
INT. GREEN MAN BAR - CONTINUOUS
As Elise considers how to proceed, a man with a fiddle stands to scratch out a tune. Another springs up and begins to sing.
SINGER 1: “Much has been said of the strumpets of yore,
Of wenches and bawdy house queens by the score,
But I sing of a baggage that we all adore—”
Everyone turns their attention to join in on the last line of the chorus:
ALL: “The landlord's daughter!”
A few other men lean into the waitresses and take up the verses.
SINGER 2: “You'll never love another…”
SINGER 3: “Although she's not the kind of girl
To take home to your mother!”
A waitress giggles and shoves the third singer playfully away. The first man steps in and sweeps her into his arms.
SINGER 1: “Her ale, it is lively and strong to the taste.”
He spins her into the arms of the next man.
SINGER 2: “'Tis brewed with discretion – never with haste.”
She is shoved into the grasp of the third.
SINGER 3: “You can have all you like if you swear not to waste…”
ALL: “The landlord's daughter!”
The first man mimes an obscene rising with his forearm.
SINGER 1: “And when her name is mentioned,
The parts of every gentleman,
Do stand up at attention!”
He pokes at the waitress’s bottom with the fist of that arm to make her jump. Elise rises sharply from her seat. The other two men hoist the waitress between them onto their shoulders.
SINGERS 2 and 3: “Oh, nothing can delight so,
As does the part that lies between,
Her left toe, and her right toe!”
With their free hands, the men splay her legs out and apart, as she shrieks in laughing outrage and clings to them. The bar erupts in hilarity, cut off only by the sound of Elise banging sharply on the bar.
ELISE: Enough! Let’s see you put her down and take your hands off!
They turn in mocking challenge toward her.
SINGER 1: Yeah? And who are you to spoil a bit of fun?
She flips out her warrant card and gets in his face.
ELISE: I’m a police detective in Her Majesty’s service. And I don’t think this is proper treatment for a woman while she’s trying to do her job.
The men scoff, but when they see Elise is not backing down, they set the waitress back down on her feet.
SINGER 2: Well. If that’s an order.
WAITRESS: They didn’t mean nothing by it.
Elise is a little surprised at the woman’s equanimity, but pushes ahead.
ELISE: I’m here because I’m inquiring into the disappearance of a girl by the name of May Morrison.
SINGER 2: Ain’t no such girl as that living here.
ELISE: I don’t suppose any of you have heard of her?
There is a murmur in the negative and a shaking of heads.
ELISE: (Sighs) Right. Well, I was told that there is a Rowan Morrison I can find here. I’d like to make an interview, so can anyone direct me to her?
ALL: (Derisive laughter)
SINGER 1: Stokes, woman, you’re even more lost than you think.
ELISE: Beg your pardon?
SINGER 2: You won’t find her here either! There ain’t no such person as Miss Rowan Morrison neither!
SINGER 3: How d’you suppose you’ll find a lost child when you don’t know your arse from your elbow?
They room explodes in raucous laughter as Elise’s frustration grows.
ROWAN: (OS) All right, lads, that’ll be enough now.
Elise turns to see a young man enter— late twenties, tall and handsome, with wavy dark hair and an ironic, foxlike grin.
ROWAN: What they mean to say, ma’am, is that you won’t find her because that’s me— I’m Rowan Morrison. I run this place.
He extends a hand to shake while the men snicker.
ELISE: I see.
ROWAN: Here, now, we’ll take a walk out where a body can hear himself think. I’ve got to tend to the goats anyhow.
He gestures and moves to the door. After a moment, Elise follows.
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