31 Plays in 31 Days, #5 - "Hangover Cure"
Aug. 5th, 2018 08:10 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
breakinglight11Doing something a little different today! Whether as a genuine creative impulse or an expression of my tendency towards productive procrastination, I’ve been turning over an idea for a reimagining of a Jeeves and Wooster television show. I love the original ITV version with Hugh Laurie and Stephen Fry, as it represents the actual stories so truly and beautifully. But I’d love to do a reinterpretation of it, with a slightly blacker comedic style.
The crux of my reinterpretation would be that Jeeves’s hypercompetence comes from time spent as a black ops agent in WWI, and is now trying to adapt to civilian life where you can’t just knife your way out of all your problems. Bertie would be the lovely, charming idiot, whose head is easily turned by hot girls and flashy living, who in many ways Jeeves finds frustrating, but slowly wins him over with his generosity of spirit and selflessness when helping friends. I’d want to shift the tone just a little away from the total innocence of the original and allow for slightly darker or edgier references to violence or sex. I think it could be a ton of fun.
So today’s scene is taken from the pilot for this I’ve been noodling on, Jeeves Takes Charge, loosely based on the first Wodehouse short story where Jeeves first comes to work for Bertie. I’ve changed the context a little, where instead of actually being sent by an agency, a freshly discharged Jeeves comes upon Bertie being mugged by toughs as he stumbles home, extremely drunk, in the early hours of the morning. Jeeves reluctantly saves him and drags his passed-out ass home.
Day #5 – “Hangover Cure”
From Jeeves Takes Charge
By Phoebe Roberts
BERTIE WOOSTER, a rich, good hearted society idiot
REGINALD JEEVES, a former black ops agent in WWI
~~~
INT. BERTIE’S FLAT – EARLY MORNING
Jeeves slings Bernie down from his shoulder and into bed. He then takes a moment to inspect the surroundings— the poshness, the mess. Jeeves pours himself a nip from Bertie’s well-stocked bar cart and goes from room to room, eyeing the disaster critically, from the scorched burner in the kitchen to the stuck straight razor in the bathroom.
Sipping at his glass, Jeeves goes through the wardrobe in Bertie’s room, nodding in approval at the quality. He is pulling out a blue check with a sudden frown, when he hears Bertie groan and stir behind him. Jeeves glances at him, shuts the wardrobe, then, carrying away his cognac, proceeds to the kitchen.
Bertie wallows in his sheets, attempting to disentangle himself.
In the kitchen, Jeeves pours and mixes and cracks a raw egg into a glass.
When at last Bertie drags his body upright, he looks up to see Jeeves standing over him, with the glass full of brown-red liquid balanced on a small tray.
BERTIE: Why, Meadowes, you’re taller.
JEEVES: No, sir. Perhaps you’d like to drink this?
Bertie looks up at him and blinks stupidly.
BERTIE: Oh, no. Are you the undertaker?
JEEVES: No, sir. My name is Jeeves.
BERTIE: Jeeves? What are you— oh, goodness. The agency must have sent you.
Jeeves pauses a beat as he considers.
JEEVES: Yes, sir. If I may?
He proffers the tray with the drink. Bertie takes it, drinks it down, and gasps.
BERTIE: I say. I say! What in the world is that?
JEEVES: A little preparation of my own invention. Gentlemen have found it extremely invigorating after a late evening.
BERTIE: I say! You’re engaged!
JEEVES: Very good, sir.
BERTIE: Capital!
He attempts to get out of bed, but flops awkwardly to the floor.
BERTIE: Can you start right away?
JEEVES: Yes, sir.
Jeeves bends with a distasteful expression to help him to his feet.
The crux of my reinterpretation would be that Jeeves’s hypercompetence comes from time spent as a black ops agent in WWI, and is now trying to adapt to civilian life where you can’t just knife your way out of all your problems. Bertie would be the lovely, charming idiot, whose head is easily turned by hot girls and flashy living, who in many ways Jeeves finds frustrating, but slowly wins him over with his generosity of spirit and selflessness when helping friends. I’d want to shift the tone just a little away from the total innocence of the original and allow for slightly darker or edgier references to violence or sex. I think it could be a ton of fun.
So today’s scene is taken from the pilot for this I’ve been noodling on, Jeeves Takes Charge, loosely based on the first Wodehouse short story where Jeeves first comes to work for Bertie. I’ve changed the context a little, where instead of actually being sent by an agency, a freshly discharged Jeeves comes upon Bertie being mugged by toughs as he stumbles home, extremely drunk, in the early hours of the morning. Jeeves reluctantly saves him and drags his passed-out ass home.
Day #5 – “Hangover Cure”
From Jeeves Takes Charge
By Phoebe Roberts
BERTIE WOOSTER, a rich, good hearted society idiot
REGINALD JEEVES, a former black ops agent in WWI
~~~
INT. BERTIE’S FLAT – EARLY MORNING
Jeeves slings Bernie down from his shoulder and into bed. He then takes a moment to inspect the surroundings— the poshness, the mess. Jeeves pours himself a nip from Bertie’s well-stocked bar cart and goes from room to room, eyeing the disaster critically, from the scorched burner in the kitchen to the stuck straight razor in the bathroom.
Sipping at his glass, Jeeves goes through the wardrobe in Bertie’s room, nodding in approval at the quality. He is pulling out a blue check with a sudden frown, when he hears Bertie groan and stir behind him. Jeeves glances at him, shuts the wardrobe, then, carrying away his cognac, proceeds to the kitchen.
Bertie wallows in his sheets, attempting to disentangle himself.
In the kitchen, Jeeves pours and mixes and cracks a raw egg into a glass.
When at last Bertie drags his body upright, he looks up to see Jeeves standing over him, with the glass full of brown-red liquid balanced on a small tray.
BERTIE: Why, Meadowes, you’re taller.
JEEVES: No, sir. Perhaps you’d like to drink this?
Bertie looks up at him and blinks stupidly.
BERTIE: Oh, no. Are you the undertaker?
JEEVES: No, sir. My name is Jeeves.
BERTIE: Jeeves? What are you— oh, goodness. The agency must have sent you.
Jeeves pauses a beat as he considers.
JEEVES: Yes, sir. If I may?
He proffers the tray with the drink. Bertie takes it, drinks it down, and gasps.
BERTIE: I say. I say! What in the world is that?
JEEVES: A little preparation of my own invention. Gentlemen have found it extremely invigorating after a late evening.
BERTIE: I say! You’re engaged!
JEEVES: Very good, sir.
BERTIE: Capital!
He attempts to get out of bed, but flops awkwardly to the floor.
BERTIE: Can you start right away?
JEEVES: Yes, sir.
Jeeves bends with a distasteful expression to help him to his feet.
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