|
"VIEW FROM THE SKY" Written by Bill Olson
|
|
Watch the complete film (higher resolution) on Video.Google.com
Watch Part 1 of the film on YouTube.com Watch part 2 of the film on YouTube.com
|
|
2nd Draft (revised) 6/29/03 Iconostar Productions
© 2003 William David Sherman Olson http://www.oocities.org/iconostar/film.htm
|
|
“VIEW FROM THE SKY” FADE IN: EXT. LATIN AMERICAN TOWER - DAY Teachers are holding a protest in the streets of Mexico City.
TITLE Between
1970 and 1992, more than 150 teachers in Mexico HAD been killed or
disappeared. In
1997, the nation faced new violence as government forces and their
supporters arrested, detained and sometimes murdered teachers, labeling
them as subversive. Faced
with low wages, political oppression, murders and disappearances,
teachers staged a protest in the nation’s capital.
Title Mexico
City. June
12, 1997.
EXT.
LATIN AMERICAN TOWER – DAY The
camera pans upward to the top of the building where the restaurant is
located. DISSOLVE: INT. TOWER – DAY From someone’s POV, we look down at the steps as we ascend, then enter the restaurant. INT. RESTAURANT – DAY We
look from a window down to the street far below. Teachers are protesting on the corner outside of the Palacio
de Bellas Artes. Inside
the restaurant, a young man enters and sits across the table from an
older man. They look out
the window at the protesters in the street. OLD
MAN Some
of them fear that their protests will lead to more deaths. YOUNG
MAN If
they lose, more will die. OLD
MAN If
they win, it won’t be enough. YOUNG
MAN For
some, but most won’t ask too much. OLD
MAN They’ve
already asked too much. YOUNG
MAN Security
for their families is not too much. OLD
MAN Risking
retribution is. YOUNG
MAN Retribution
for standing up, for speaking out.
All they ask for is justice. OLD
MAN But
justice requires sacrifice. YOUNG
MAN Accepting
risk is a sacrifice. OLD
MAN A
sacrifice motivated by avarice. YOUNG
MAN Avarice?
These people live in virtual poverty. OLD
MAN Virtual
is not actual. They have
what they need. The best
sacrifice is to stay safe, to preserve what they have and to not risk
losing their families. YOUNG
MAN They
have an obligation to make life better for their families. OLD
MAN And
if they lose? YOUNG
MAN They
lose it all. OLD
MAN Even
you see that. YOUNG
MAN I
grieve at the prospect. OLD
MAN But
not enough to forsake rebellion. YOUNG
MAN Rebellion
is a treasure. It’s what
gives the Good People a fighting chance.
Good
people are weak by nature. They
don’t seek power over others. Power
is a foreign concept to them.
They
become satisfied with... smiles – smiles on their children’s faces,
on their neighbors faces. They
arm themselves for gift-giving, never demanding just desserts for
themselves.
Then
when the day arrives that they realize shackles have been girded on
their wrists and ankles, they must face their weakness, it glares at
them, as if a reflection of their own faces in the shiny metal of those
same shackles.
Then
they have no choice but to band together, as if held to one another by
the overlord’s chains. And
that is the way to freedom and justice. OLD
MAN You
should be embarrassed by your bitterness. YOUNG
MAN You
should be embarrassed by your apathy. OLD
MAN Apathy!
I’ve work hard to promote peace!
You could’ve helped me. YOUNG
MAN You
promote peace by promoting inaction.
You cultivate the attitude of the happy slave, satisfied to
kneel, resigned to his lowly station in life; the exploited workers, the
abused child, the battered woman – all ordered to swallow the opiate
of solace. All the while,
you sit back and gloat upon an ordered kingdom. OLD
MAN Every
king who loves his people, every president, prime minister, every
chancellor and prince – they all desire order. YOUNG
MAN They
all desire quiescence. OLD
MAN Because
a multitude at rest can rest easier. YOUNG
MAN Because
a lamb is easier to slaughter than a lion. OLD
MAN You
expect perfection in your life. You
expect that every rose smell sweet yet never prick. You expect silver spoons and silver platters, and meat for
every meal. Sweet water,
clean air and health.
All
desirable things, to be sure! But
so too is sloth, until it’s time to flee the hungry beast.
Then will your legs be strong enough?
Will your complacency let you run?
The sloth is easier to slaughter than the lamb.
And
if the slave lives a harder life than the master, so, too, can he better
weather the storm. The back
that hauls the burden is stronger for it.
I
may have a nation of burdens to bear, but I also have a nation of the
strong. You think I don’t
love the poor, the downtrodden, the disenfranchised?
They are my people. And
in the end, their strength shall prevail. YOUNG
MAN As
with the camel’s back.
I
watched this from the ivory of your “court.”
And I enjoyed the gilt weavings of my princely robes.
But the gilt (guilt) became too heavy a burden for me.
I had to throw them off and descend to the mires. OLD
MAN And
in the mires you shall remain. YOUNG
MAN Perhaps.
Just as Sub-Comandante Marcos has left plush academia for the
thatched huts of Oaxaca’s jungle. It’s a higher calling.
The revolutionary never looks down and never looks back.
He always looks up and ahead. OLD
MAN Even
if it’s towards the open skies of exile? YOUNG
MAN I
often long for your kingdom, but my soldiers and I loved it so much, the
risk of exile was worth the sacrifice to make it better. OLD
MAN And
what of the risk of exile from a loving home? YOUNG
MAN Exile
at times can be a cold desert. And
even the warmth of comrades at my side cannot replace a missing father. The Young Man pauses, looking into the Old Man’s eyes.
OLD
MAN One
night as I stood at the parapet, rains fell as the gloom of night was
cast. My shoulders were
braced against a cold gust.
Together,
father and son might brave this, side by side. YOUNG
MAN I
didn’t choose to leave. OLD
MAN But
you chose your fate. And
she wove the cloak you hoped would keep you warm in your cold desert. YOUNG
MAN Side
by side we had stood, braced against a cold gust.
Side by side we peered from the parapet of your royal court, down
into the gloom upon suffering masses treading through the mires.
We
stood together, saw the same tears, heard the same cries, yet you only
sprinkled opiates while I opened a door to let in the light. OLD
MAN And
what it got you was blame for creating what the light revealed. YOUNG
MAN A
true irony. OLD
MAN The
only ribbons on your cloak are the blood of those you’ve sought to
help and spittle from those who blame you. YOUNG
MAN The
bloody ribbons on my cloak are no match for your own; your gilt robes no
longer glitter for the blood that stains the stitching. And that blood – all that blood – all the blood that ever
spilled, that ever flowed – blood spilled by your own hand... all of
it was the blood of your own children. OLD
MAN All
that blood, all the injustice you lead them to fight against – the
poverty, exploitation, tyranny – all of it came from the seeds within
that first fruit – your fruit of disobedience. YOUNG
MAN So
I look into the dragon’s lair and find myself staring back? OLD
MAN Yes
– in your subtle way.
The
Young Man looks out the window down at the people.
POV
– YOUNG MAN – THE PEOPLE MARCH ON THE STREET. The
Old Man looks down at his open palms.
Blood appears, then fades and he, too, looks down at the
demonstrators. EXT.
STREET – DAY
Outside,
we see the protesters marching in the streets.
ONE MAN holds a sign in Spanish.
SUBTITLE The
world will end.
FADE
OUT.
THE END
|