Somewhere in an alternate Gyllenverse, part II

[SCENE: A car's interior, nighttime. It's a modest-looking vehicle which may or may not be a hybrid. The interior is a medium gray, upholstered in leather. Stretched haphazardly across the back seat is a dark gray fleece blanket. Our impossibly gorgeous young actor is behind the wheel, looking a bit frazzled but still beautiful in a cheap lightweight black jacket, tan t-shirt, a brushed-fleece scarf that almost matches the backseat blanket, and jeans. His cell phone, tossed into the passenger seat among other debris, begins to buzz its way across the seat as it vibrates with a call.]

J: Shit. [glancing over, grabs phone, answers] Yeah?

Anonymous Party Host: [on other end of phone line] Hey, that was intense. Are you okay?

J: [sighs] Yeah, I'm fine.

APH: We saw it from the window. I had to stop Bob from running to your rescue. You sure you're okay? They were right on top of you.

J: I'm fine, really. A little flash-blind, but that's fading.

APH: I'm sorry. You should have let us use the hose.

J: As satisfying as that might have been, it wouldn't have stopped them. [stops at a traffic light, looks around] I told you I was followed. You thought I was being paranoid.

APH: [irritably] I did not say 'paranoid.'

J: Oh, I'm sorry. I'm not paranoid, I'm 'nuts.' [light changes, drives on] That one guy almost lost a foot, I swear.

APH: I thought going out the back door would work. You really, really should have let us run them off first. Seriously.

J: I'm a big boy, I can handle a few photographers. But I told you they were there.

APH: [apologetically] I know. I'm sorry. I didn't think anyone knew you were coming.

J: [signaling and then turning] They didn't. They were outside my house. They're always outside my house. They followed me. I told you, I was followed.

APH: Okay, okay. And you were right. [playfully, after a beat] So I guess this means you won't be coming to my next party?

J: [laughing] No, I'm never coming to your house again. Your parties suck, I had no fun, I left alone. In fact, delete my number from your phone.

APH: Hey, it's not my fault you left alone. That was your move, bud.

J: Yeah, well, with those guys staked out in your bushes, she'd have been instantly famous.

APH: Oh, come on. You can't claim that excuse. [teasing] You're just picky.

J: That's me, mister discriminating.

APH: Who are you supposed to be fucking these days, anyway? I've lost track.

J: So have I. Last I heard, I was seriously overrated, though. [giggling]

APH: [laughing] Someone should tell that to the guys who were in my bushes.

J: [laughing] I did. They wouldn't listen.

APH: [laughing]

J: [stopping at another light] You know, I should find out who I'm dating. I could really go for some sex right now.

APH: [laughs] You're terrible.

J: What's terrible is that my tabloid self is fucking an assortment of attractive people of either gender, and I haven't had sex in two years. [in mock despair] I'm lonely!

APH: You're so full of shit.

J: I'm full of ...something. [starts driving again]

APH: I'm hanging up now.

J: [melodramatic] But I'm so lonely!

APH: [laughing] Goodnight, Jake.

J: 'Night.

[J hangs up call, tosses phone back on seat, and drives on, smiling]

Inspiration here.

Somewhere in an alternate Gyllenverse, part I

(previously posted to the JW forums, 4/5/07)

Disclaimer: I am not a screenwriter, so please cut me an appropriate length of slack.

[SCENE: Night, interior. A hotel room, clean, but not too ostentatious. Our protagonist, an impossibly gorgeous young actor, is on his cell phone.]

J: So what did they say?

Anonymous fictitious agent (hereafter "AFA"): [on other end of phone line] Promise me you won't freak out.

J: [beat] Fuck. So that's it? Tell me what they said. [begins pacing]

AFA: I'll tell you if you promise you'll stay calm. Sit down.

J: [sighs exhasperatedly] Okay, whatever. [still pacing around room] I'm sitting.

AFA: Well...[hesitantly] They loved your reading...

J: ...But?

AFA: But...you've gotta understand, Jake, this character is a really sensitive issue...for the studio as well as the director...

J: [growing more agitated] If you don't spit it out, I'm going to start breaking shit...

AFA: [hurriedly] Okay, okay, calm down. Uh, listen... [laughs insincerely] They said you're just too good looking for the part.

J: [stops pacing, stunned to silence]

AFA: Jake? Did I lose you?

J: [sits on bed, defeatedly putting head in free hand]

AFA: Jake?? [to self] ...fucking cell phones...

J: I'm here. Are you kidding me? That's why I'm out?

AFA: I'm sorry, Jake. Fiedler said no one wants to do a movie about a mentally challenged serial rapist with a lead who makes the audience wet.

J: [shaking his head] Can't he give audiences more credit than that? That's fucking ridiculous! No one's going to be attracted to this guy!

AFA: No, his problem is that they're going to be attracted to you. Thinks the ones who don't go home feeling ashamed of themselves will be writing letters and calling because someone made a movie about a sick rapist and depicted him as "lovable" and "desirable," or something like that. You know, the same old bullshit.

J: I can't believe this is happening again.

AFA: [beat] Hey, I know you really wanted to do this--

J: [interrupting] What about makeup? [gets up, wanders over to mirror, begins making faces] Prosthetics? They could give me a harelip or something.

AFA: Not good enough. Besides, if they wanted you with a harelip, they'd get Joaquin Phoenix. He's cheaper than you.

[J pulls phone away from ear and looks at it in disbelief]

J: [back to phone] Are you serious? Doesn't anyone care about the acting?

AFA: [sighs] I'm sorry.

J: [drops back on bed, begins chewing thumb] Okay, well...Thanks, man.

[J ends the call, flops backward onto bed for a second, then gets up again, goes back to mirror]

J: [looking incredulously at his reflection] Joaquin Phoenix??

This is a little piece of satire that's been floating about in my head for a while. It occurred to me one day that Jake's appearance might be a problem in some cases. Like Chloë Sevigny said, film makers might think they have to do something to suggest he's more average looking just to make him believable as certain characters. Now, of course, we don't feel that way, because he's so good at becoming the character that we forget we're watching Jake. But what if some dumbass Hollywood suit didn't get that? This scene is what might happen.