SCREENPLAY

EXT. HOLLYWOOD VICINITY - DAY

SERIES OF SHOTS:
1. Opulent mansions with colorful, manicured
gardens. Glittering swimming pools surrounded by beautiful
bodies.
2. Identical McMansions stacked up a hillside, with
expensive cars parked in ornate-stone driveways.
3. An older neighborhood of sprawling houses and rolling
lawns.
4. A development of identical small houses, with sparse new
plantings in tiny front lawns.
5. Generic ranch-style house, overgrown yard, a little
worse for wear.

INT. ASHER’S HOUSE - OFFICE - DAY

A simple room furnished from an office supply catalog -
desk, filing cabinets, bookcases. The shelves are crammed
with tapes and DVD’s.
ASHER BLAINE, (40’s), a beautiful face weathered by storms
of self abuse. His clothes are old and baggy making him
look a little anorexic.
On the walls are ten years of Asher’s movie stills. They
run the gamut from fresh-faced heart throb to junkie-thin
wastrel.
Sitting at the desk, he sorts through a collection of recent
head shots.
SHARON LADEEN, (20’s), perky, peppy and just a whisker shy
of manic. She starts talking the minute she enters the
house, rooms away.
SHARON (O.S)
Asher, they didn’t have Blue Cheese
so I just got you French.
Asher looks up as Sharon enters the office, laden with
take-out, purse and overstuffed satchel.
ASHER
Anything’s fine.
She wags a finger at him.
 2.

SHARON
No. Wrong attitude, hon. We
deserve to get what we want, right?
Asher forces a smile.
ASHER
Whatever you say.
Sharon unpacks their lunches.
SHARON
I am going to get you back up
there. You mark my words. A-list
in a year.
Asher clears away the photos to make room for his food.
ASHER
That would be great, Sharon.
SHARON
Will be. Will be. Positive
thinking, remember.
Asher looks at her with a soul-deep sadness.
ASHER
I’m trying.
SHARON
No try, do. Or whatever the hell
Yoda said.
A smile tugs at his mouth.
ASHER
But I’m not supposed to listen to
little green men any more.
Sharon opens the salad container and dresses it from little
packets. She puts it in front of Asher.
SHARON
Green men?
She hands him a plastic fork.
ASHER
Yoda?
She prepares her own salad.
 3.

SHARON
What about him?
Asher watches her a moment, then turns his attention to his
food.
ASHER
French is sweet, isn’t it?
Sharon pulls a chair up to the opposite side of the desk.
SHARON
You say anything, you get anything.

INT. PSYCHIATRIC CLINIC - DAY

State run, a little shabby. Lots of patients’ artwork and
health related posters on the walls.
DR. BRADSHAW, (50’s) has a small office crowded with
plants. His desk is pushed to one side. Two overstuffed
armchairs command center stage, a coffee table between them.
BOBBY ROTHMAN, (30’s) sits opposite Bradshaw.
BRADSHAW
That’s excellent, Bobby. When do
you start work?
Bobby shifts uncomfortably.
BOBBY
It’s not a very good job.
BRADSHAW
It’s a very good start,
though. Small steps, remember?
Bobby watches Bradshaw’s reaction.
BOBBY
It’s dirty work.
BRADSHAW
It’s an important job, though. You
know, a restaurant can be closed
down if it isn’t clean enough.
BOBBY
It’s just a burger joint.
 4.

BRADSHAW
This is very important, Bobby. If
you do a good job here, the rest of
the world will open up again.
BOBBY
Why? Why can’t I go back to my old
job?
BRADSHAW
We’ve talked about why. You need
to prove that you’re
ready. Unfortunately, that means
you have to start from the bottom
again.
BOBBY
It’s not fair.
BRADSHAW
It might not be fair. But that’s
how it is in the real world. And
that’s where you want to live,
isn’t it?

EXT. ASHER’S STREET - DAY

Across the street and one house down, Josh Knudsen waters
his perfectly trimmed front garden while checking out the
neighborhood.
Asher’s house looks empty. The unkempt yard gives it a
derelict feel.
KIDS on bikes speed down the street shouting to one another.
Knudsen zeros in on them.
KNUDSON
Hey! Keep it down!
He scrambles across the yard, trying to get them with the
hose, but they’re too quick.
KNUDSON
Degenerates!
 5.

INT. ASHER’S HOUSE - KITCHEN - NIGHT

The house is dark, but for the kitchen.
The stove light casts a cozy circle of illumination on shiny
vegetables, prepped and lined up on the counter.
Rice simmers on a back burner. Asher readies a pan for his
stirfry.
He digs through a drawer for a rocking vegetable knife. He
puts a peeled onion on a cutting board and dices it up.
Doorbell.
He grabs a dishtowel, wipes his hands, and heads for the
door.

LIVINGROOM
Asher opens the front door and checks out the empty porch.
A lumpy manila envelope lies on the front path.
Asher retrieves the envelope and opens it. He pulls out a
handful of paper shreds that were once a photo.
Stuffing the shreds back into the envelope, he goes back
into the house.
As he shuts the front door, the back door slams.
Asher rushes through to the kitchen. Empty.
He pulls open the back door.
The back yard is dark and quiet, just crickets and cicadas.
He goes back into the kitchen and tosses the envelope on to
the table.
He washes his hands and returns to the cutting board. The
vegetables are undisturbed, but the knife is missing.
Asher checks the counter, the floor, the table.
He stares at the back door, puzzled.
 6.

INT. CHAIN STEAKHOUSE - NIGHT

Sharon sits across from FRED, (20’s), blandly
handsome. They hold large laminated menus.
SHARON
Oh, I can’t watch TV, I’m so busy
these days with my clients.
Fred perks up.
FRED
Clients?
SHARON
I’m a talent manger.
FRED
Really? Who do you manage?
Sharon looks around conspiratorially. She leans forward to
whisper.
SHARON
I can’t say here.
Fred nods knowingly.
FRED
I do some acting.
SHARON
Do you? What have you done?
FRED
I’ve been an extra a couple of
times, and I auditioned for that
new Disney movie.
SHARON
Disney, wow. That’s good.
Fred raises his menu, like a screen, to whisper behind.
FRED
What have your clients done?
Sharon joins him behind the menu.
SHARON
I’m working with Asher Blaine.
Fred frowns at her. He pulls back his menu.
 7.

FRED
Isn’t he dead?
SHARON
Oh course not. What made you think
that?
FRED
Yeah, he died of an overdose two
years ago.
SHARON
No. You’re wrong.
FRED
Some guy is scammin’ you. Blaine’s
dead.
SHARON
He is too alive, you moron, and I
run his life.
Sharon throws her water glass at Fred and stomps out.

EXT. ASHER’S HOUSE - DAY

Asher forces a lawnmower through knee high grass.
The mower growls and grinds, spitting out broken twigs and
shredded candy wrappers.
Asher is sweating and out of breath.
The mower hits something large, roars and cuts out.
Asher wipes sweat off his face. He looks behind him, proud
of his work.
The mowed areas have periodic mohawks, big clumps of
clippings and scattered shreds of sun-bleached paper.
Asher stares at the mess in disappointment.
ASHER
I can’t even mow a fucking lawn.
He looks around the yard in dismay, tall grass, weedy
flowerbeds, shaggy bushes.
He’s losing the fight.
Sharon comes out of the house.
 8.

SHARON
Here you are. What are you doing?
ASHER
Trying to mow the lawn.
SHARON
Sweetie, that is what landscapers
are for. You look like shit.
She walks over to inspect him.
ASHER
Sorry.
SHARON
Ew. You don’t smell so hot
either. Go hop in the shower. We
need to go be seen.
Asher tries to free the mower.
ASHER
But what about the lawn?
SHARON
Honey, nobody cares about your
grass. As long as you aren’t
smoking it.

INT. CROSSROADS MOTEL - BOBBY’S ROOM - DAY

Cheap motor-court hotel with kitschy decor, worn bedspreads
and stained rugs.
BOBBY ROTHMAN, (30’s), sits on the bed, surrounded by
internet printouts of articles on Asher.
A child’s scrapbook, filled with tabloid clippings of Asher,
is open to a new page.
Several photos are laid out, ready to be glued in. He cuts
out another photo, carefully trimming it to fit in the empty
space.

INT. ASHER’S HOUSE - LIVING ROOM - DAY

Sparsely but comfortably furnished.
Sitting on the couch, Asher reads a letter with Sharon
standing over him, watching.
 9.

SHARON
This is the third one.
ASHER
Only three?
Asher tosses the letter onto the coffee table and sinks into
the cushions.
SHARON
I think we should call the police.
She paces a little frenetically.
ASHER
Honey, I’ve gotten plenty of hate
mail over the years. It’s an
outlet. People don’t act on it.
She skids to a halt.
SHARON
He said he wanted to destroy you.
ASHER
They all do. It really isn’t a
problem.
SHARON
I’m the manager, and I think it’s
my call.
ASHER
The police can’t do anything. No
law has been broken.
She snags the letter and brandishes it.
SHARON
Uh, hello, a threat against
you? There’s a law against that,
right?
ASHER
It’s a letter, Sharon. As long as
it doesn’t blow up, or anything,
it’s not going to do any harm.
 10.

EXT. ASHER’S HOUSE - NIGHT

Police cars with lights flashing are parked out front.
DETECTIVE JIM BLEDSOE, (40’s), stands on the front porch
ringing the doorbell and knocking.
DETECTIVE MARGARET SMYTHE, (40’S), walks around from the
back of the house.
MARGARET
No sign of a car.
JIM
Maybe he isn’t home.
Asher, in a ratty bathrobe, with bed-head and gummy eyes,
opens the door.
JIM
Mr. Blaine? I’m Detective
Bledsoe--
ASHER
I’m clean.
Asher steps back, opening the door wider.
ASHER
You want to search? Come on in. I
promise you, aspirin’s the hardest
drug in here.
Jim stays on the porch.
JIM
And this is my partner
Detective Smythe. We have a
warrant for your arrest for murder.
Ashed stares dumbfounded.
ASHER
Murder? No, man, I never... no.
MARGARET
Where were you between the hours of
midnight and two am?
ASHER
Asleep.
 11.

MARGARET
Alone?
ASHER
Since the last divorce. Well, if
you want to get technical, about
six months before that.
JIM
Can anyone confirm your
whereabouts?
Asher’s not quite awake.
ASHER
You want proof I was asleep?
JIM
Yeah, I do.
Asher’s confusion slides toward panic.
ASHER
Oh my God. OK. Look this is a
mistake. But I’ll do whatever, you
know, to sort this out. What do
you need? Urine sample, blood? I
didn’t do anything.
MARGARET
We’ve got evidence that says otherwise.