GRAY MATTERS: FIRST 7 PAGES
INT. ELEGANT BALLROOM - NIGHT - (DREAM)
A ritzy party is taking place with light jazz music setting a festive tone. COUPLES dance and socialize. Champagne flows.
HUGH BAKER - 32, cool, confident, and the life of the
party - works the room doing his best George
Clooney impersonation, strutting around in a striking, black Armani suit.
He gathers himself then nervously moves to meet a distinguished
MIDDLE-AGED MAN donning a gold suit and clearly the most important man in the
room, only to slip and stumble into the man’s staunchly loyal entourage of YES MEN,
also in gold suits.
Three of them grab Hugh and hurl him across the dance
floor through unsuspecting COUPLES into a spirited TEN-PIECE BAND, who seize
him and fling him back across the dance floor -
- into an ELDERLY WAITER serving hors d-oeuvres whom
Hugh wipes out and tumbles with into several more gold-suited yes men as they all
crash into the distinguished middle-aged man.
Four gold-suited men pick Hugh up and toss him onto a beverage
table where he smashes into rows of glasses until he stops at a huge punch bowl
and his head plunges in as -
INT. UPSCALE CONDO BEDROOM - EARLY MORNING
- a phone screams out, startling a semi-comatose Hugh out
of
a deep sleep. Securing his phone, he falls out of bed.
MYSTERY MAN
(ON PHONE)
Wake up, Baker! This is your
big day! Don’t you smell the
potential in the air, sense the
opportunity, feel like a winner?
HUGH (ON
PHONE)
I don’t smell, sense, or feel
anything this early. Who is this?
MYSTERY MAN
(ON PHONE)
The
voice of destiny, Hugh Everett
Baker,
your destiny. I’m from
Sylvester
Kaufman’s office.
Hugh
springs to salute-like attention and switches on the light as we see his room covered
in a sea of gold – like his phone.
HUGH (ON PHONE)
CEO of
Kaufman Global, Sylvester
Kaufman?
My boss’s boss’s boss?
MYSTERY MAN
(ON PHONE)
You’re
meeting him today at
3:50 p.m.
100 End Of The Road
Road. Don’t
be late.
HUGH (ON PHONE)
When?
Where? TODAY?!
The phone goes dead, leaving Hugh standing in his gold boxers, dazed
then exhilarated. Breaking into a spirited victory dance, he slips back into
bed as the phone rings again, sending him flying off the other side. He fumbles
for and finds the phone.
DESPERATE MAN (ON PHONE)
Baker, it’s Carlyle.
HUGH (ON
PHONE)
Carlyle?! Whatever happened
to you? First you get promoted,
then you disappear…
CARLYLE (ON PHONE)
Long
story. No time. Just
remember:
don’t play their game.
Hung up on again, Hugh growls at the phone then flings
it over his shoulder. It rings in mid flight. He can’t believe it.
HUGH
Was I the only one not up?!
Stumbling along the floor, he seizes
the phone, blaring out –
HUGH (ON PHONE)
WHAT DO YOU WANT?!
EXCITED WOMAN
(ON PHONE)
Baker,
it’s Brook! I heard
you got “the call”! This is
it! You
sound uptight.
HUGH (ON PHONE)
How could you have…? I only
just… What time is it?
BROOK (ON
PHONE)
Time
to shine, Baker! Just
remember:
play the game -
and stick
to the plan!
Hugh strangles the phone and tosses it aside as he grabs
his gold cassette recorder and slouches against the bed, struggling to think of
something noteworthy to record. He can’t. Ecstatic yet exhausted, he slumps to
the floor and passes out, smiling.
INT. HUGH’S CONDO BEDROOM - LATER THAT MORNING
An alarm clock erupts, playing a peppy Big Band tune as
Hugh, energized, catches the song's beat and hops out of bed -
INT. ELABORATE FITNESS ROOM
- tenaciously works his elliptical -
HUGH
I've got the skills.
INT. GOURMET KITCHEN
- inhales a power breakfast and handful of vitamins -
HUGH
I've got the stuff.
INT. MASSIVE WALK-IN CLOSET
- slips into a perfectly fitted and accessorized Brioni
suit -
HUGH
And I’ve got the style.
INT. EXQUISITE FOYER
- gathers his gold cell phone and gold briefcase and
takes a long, confident, admiring glance at himself in the mirror –
Destiny
here I come!
- then gives a dreamy stare at a cult-like shrine he’s
erected: photos of anal executives in shiny gold suits, gold plaques, gold figurines,
gold candles, gold everything. He caresses a few items reverently, offers a
quick prayer, and heads out.
EXT. CONDO CLUBHOUSE
Striding along, juggling his briefcase and cassette
recorder in one hand and a book, “Managing the Kaufman Way,” in the other, Hugh,
enthralled by every word, tapes notes while he reads.
HUGH
“Business is a game where
everything and everyone is
expendable. Take all you can.
It’s you against everyone.
In the end, you’ve either a
winner or you’re a loser.
Hearing his phone blare out a Big
Band ring tone, he grabs it and listens for an irritated moment then abruptly
intervenes -
HUGH
Exactly. I want
Marketing to
jump on
this, Finance to pony
up the
cash, and IT to get off
their lazy
butts and… Hold on.
(switching lines)
What?! Meet Kaufman at 9:00!
THIS MORNING?! But I… And I…
Hugh stands stupefied then is suddenly exhilarated,
breaking into his signature victory dance as he hurries off, gaining confidence
as he smugly dials a number on his phone.
HUGH
Vanderwise,
it's Baker. I’m
not coming
in today or ever again!
You’re
an uninspired dolt and
MY
STAR’S ON THE RISE, MORON!
As he rounds the clubhouse
corner, he stumbles over several plats of colorful Pansies then slips on the
wet sidewalk, barely avoiding a blast of water from the garden hose of -
- unsuspecting culprit HAL COBB,
82, the antiquated groundsman, who scurries to Hugh’s aid, uttering a thousand
“I’m sorry”s.
Hugh jumps to his feet and
brushes himself off, careful not
to
touch or be touched by the elderly man – he really hates touching
and being touched – inadvertently knocking Hal into the muddy, flowery mess, unsympathetic
to the old man’s plight.
HUGH
No need to apologize, Hank.
Nothing's ruining my day of
destiny.
HAL
It's
Hal, sir. And might I say
you're
looking especially dapper today. Where're you headed?
HUGH
Straight
to the top, old man.
As Hugh dashes off, Hal
defiantly sticks his tongue out at him.
INT. HUGH’S GOLD MERCEDES SL600 CONVERTIBLE
Hopelessly lost, Hugh tries to manipulate a map, his
iPhone, and his car’s unintelligible GPS system, swerving as he jumps lanes,
honking and shouting at every MOTORIST
in his path.
He growls in frustration as he spills scalding hot coffee
in his lap and shrieks then tries to calm himself -
HUGH
No problem. I’ll be fine.
This is my day of destiny.
As he tosses his coffee cup out the window, his map
flies out after it, both nailing enraged, super-vigilant motorcycle cop EDDY
LEE POLACK, 55, perched at his favorite speed trap spot.
Ready for action, Eddy Lee
revs his engine and takes off after his prey as Hugh’s phone rings. Agitated,
he snatches it up.
HUGH
WHAT
DO YOU WANT?!
BROOK (ON
PHONE)
You
sound uptight again,
Baker.
Settle down and focus.
This
is it – our big chance.
Hugh honks and yells more, flipping
off motorists as Eddy Lee pulls up to him and motions him over. Unmoved, Hugh
swerves to miss a JOGGER and speeds on as Eddy Lee nearly crashes.
HUGH
“Settle down?” “Focus?” I’m
lost, late, AND STRESSED OUT!
BROOK (ON PHONE)
I told you, Baker, play the
game and stick to the plan!
As Hugh hangs up and tosses his phone aside, Eddy Lee catches
up, waving Hugh over again. Hugh smugly waves back and runs a yellow light then
narrowly avoids a pothole, causing Eddy Lee to veer onto the sidewalk through
some trash cans.
As a large van lumbers around the corner and heads
toward them, Hugh turns sharply to evade it, wiping out a rack of bicycles.
Eddy Lee swerves to miss the oncoming van and a
petrified WOMAN pushing a baby stroller then crashes into a vegetable
stand. Hugh looks back, smirking at Eddy Lee buried
in a leafy mess.
EXT. COUNTRYSIDE
Searching desperately for his destination amid the
pastoral scenery, Hugh perks up when he nears a snazzy, new construction site buzzing
with equipment and workmen. Marveling at it, he leans out his window, closes
his eyes, and inhales deeply –
HUGH
Ah, the smell of success!
- then has to suddenly brake to avoid a herd of ELDERLY PEOPLE meandering across the
road, being corralled by several inattentive staffers. He snickers at the
pathetic pedestrians.
HUGH
Poor, old, senile geezers.
I guess that’s what it means
to be put out to pasture!
Playfully whistling a Big Band
tune, he works his way through the skittish crowd, honking teasingly, then
races past them,
approaching a picturesque, gently
rolling hill. He is suddenly awe-inspired, sensing his glorious future is on
the other side.
HUGH
This is it! My destiny!
This is really it!
Cresting the hill, he spots an
uninviting, dilapidated behemoth of a building with a weathered, barely
standing sign: “FINAL SUNSET REST HOME COMPLEX – THE LAST PLACE THEY LEAVE YOU.”
Disoriented RESIDENTS loiter
about. He checks then double checks the address. His jaw drops and heart
stops.
HUGH
This can’t be it.
EXT. FINAL SUNSET REST HOME – MAIN ENTRANCE
Aghast, Hugh cautiously marches up to the drab, run-down facility as a
black, beat-up ambulance wildly races around him and narrowly misses him. The
erratic DRIVER can’t be under 100.
BIRDY SPARROW, 72, resident escape artist, bolts out the front doors,
unable to avoid Hugh. They crash. Birdy scrambles to her feet and flees. Several STAFFERS chase after her.
As Hugh brushes himself off, he notices ANNA ALDECOTT, 76, a sweet,
disoriented Alzheimer's patient, and her devoted, adoring husband, BEN, who
anxiously rushes to meet Hugh.
BEN
Excuse
me, maybe you can help.
I need
to admit my wife and…
HUGH
Do I
look like I work here?
(under his breath)
Admit? Don't you mean commit?
Hearing the remark, Ben glares at him. Hugh dashes off inside.
INT. MAIN LOBBY
Barely alive RESIDENTS wander in a near-empty room of sparse decorations,
polka music, and the smell of pee. A sign reads: “FAMILY DAY – IT’S NOW OR
NEVER.” No family members attend.
Several NURSES hover around the main desk, placing bets
as they condescendingly observe a disoriented VISITOR
across the room.
NURSE 1
Poor bastard. A buck says
he won’t last the day.
NURSE 2
I’ll bet two he’s gone
by noon.
NURSE 3
Here’s three. He won’t
make
mid-morning break.
Drill sergeant head nurse SAMMY SAVATCH, 52, their black,
surly, autocratic ringleader, slams a bill down with a swagger.
SAVATCH
I’ve got five that says
he’s
gone within the
hour.
Snickering, they continue
betting as super social worker PAGE PEREZ, 24, an Hispanic, eager yet naïve
Mother Theresa wannabe, loaded down with charts and diapers, defiantly
interrupts.
PAGE
Disgraceful! For healthcare
professionals, you couldn’t be
less healthy, caring, or profess-…
Savatch
and two other nurses muscle Page up against the wall.
SAVATCH
I’ve been here three decades,
college girl. You’ve been here
three weeks. So clam up and take
notes. You may learn something.
Page
offers a defiant scowl as the nurses shove her around and knock everything out
of her hands. Gathering her things, she storms off. The nurses jeer. Savatch
coldly sneers -
SAVATCH
I’d bet ten she
won’t last
the month but
who’d be dumb
enough to take
me up on it?
As they
send her off with a smug round of laughs, Hugh wanders in, causing them to
quickly hide their stashes and muffle their voices, while analyzing him and
starting a new round of bets.
NURSE 1
So he’s the new victim?
Smart
but soft. One month.
NURSE 2
Qualified but cocky. Two
weeks.
NURSE 3
Nice
but naive. Ten days.
Unimpressed, Savatch slams down a twenty on the desk.
SAVATCH
Overeducated.
Overconfident.
Over his head. One week
tops.
As Hugh approaches, the nurses scatter, leaving only Savatch behind, who
gives him a condescending look-over. Hugh flashes her a forced smile then
cynically surveys the room, smirking.
HUGH
Talk
about depressing. What,
did
someone die or something?
SAVATCH
Mr. Olson. Room 217.
Aneurysm.
Actually, everyone’s
pretty perky
today. So you’re the
new boss?
HUGH
(half
aghast, half offended)
Do I look like I belong here?
(offering his hand)
My name is Hugh Baker
and
I’m looking for
Sylvester…
SAVATCH
Do I look like
Lost and Found?
She reluctantly over-shakes his hand, testing his strength.
HUGH
You look mean, anal, bitter - and
in charge. Where do I find…?
Savatch starts to gesture one way then hesitates, sneering sinisterly as
she points in the other direction.
SAVATCH
Right through those doors.
It’s the scenic route.
Hugh flashes a sarcastic smile which Savatch returns then heads down the
hall, stopping at a locked security door with a key pad and a sign: “NOT
RESPONSIBLE FOR ANYTHING PAST THIS POINT." He looks back at her for help.
She reluctantly shouts out -
SAVATCH
911-911-911!
Amused at the irony, Hugh gives her an ungrateful nod, punches in the
code, and enters. Fearful nurses,
sensing Hugh’s sure demise, reassemble around Savatch, who smiles
mischievously.
SAVATCH
He’ll
never know what hit him.
