About Danielle
Logline: A homeless girl in Paris with delusions of grandeur tries to make her dreams come true.
Type: Short Screenplay
Pages: 14
Genre: Dark Comedy
First Page
EXT. PRETTY PARISIAN STREET - DAY
Glorious autumnal morning in the global capital of romance. Brown crunchy leaves scatter the promenade, sunshine pierces the clouds and lights up a lovely Parisian scene. An ACCORDION PLAYER breaks the quiet with a few sorrowful strokes - a surge of nostalgia for absent onlookers.
A MALE CUNT (mid/late 20s) and a FEMALE CUNT (mid/late 20s)appear around the corner. The man is dressed in vintage flare jeans, a thin pissy scarf and hopeless floppy hat.
This being Paris, he's clearly creative. This particular speciman looks like a writer. One of those 'writers' who puts more thought into his writing stance than his writing.
A man with the plume of a tree and talent of a stump. A man whose creativity ends with a musing exhale in a coffee shop. His girlfriend is equally useless. A dumb pescetarian actress, musician, or other such futility.
They're walking, hand in each other's back-pocket, eyes locked - hopelessly in love. They smile at the Accordion Player, as they walk past. He smiles back. Words aren't necessary. They stop at the end of the street, and look into each other's eyes like entranced monkeys.
Understandably bored viewers might notice a PROFESSOR behind them, sitting on a bench and reading 'ON THE PLEASURE OF HATING' By William Hazlitt. After a few heart-melting moments, the love-struck couple start to French kiss. There's a sudden RUMBLE in a bin beside them, startling them. They both look on intrigued. Few seconds pass.
A HOMELESS GIRL (26) BURSTS OUT of the bin, wielding a crisp packet.
The couple yelp and run away.
The Homeless Girl, stood in the bin, didn't even notice, obsessed with whatever's in her crisp packet. Some used cotton pads, discarded eye-liner, perfume bottle with a dribble left, and other cosmetic knick-knacks - a good find. You can always trust good neighbourhoods like this. She rolls up the crisp packet and shoves it down her top for safe keeping, before stepping out of the bin.
This girl would be the belle of a homeless ball. Torn formal clothing, heelless stilettos, smeared make-up over her dirty face, hair hopelessly-shaped with rancid oils. She's a brunette Blanche DuBois who's long-lost her gloss - a fallen beauty with delusions of grandeur so high that she'd mistake a beetle for a Cartier brooch.
She looks down at her feet - she's standing on a crumpled film poster. It's for 1938 comedy, 'THE RAGE OF PARIS'. She picks it up and looks at it closely.
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