Bring back the western

[ThirdOuting]

I just fancied sharing a bit of my writing with you, for a bit of general feedback if nothing else. It was written as part of my Alevel coursework at college last year and got good results out of it. It's in the style of the western genre, with a bit of a zany edge. I have the whole synopsis written down, but my coursework only required so many words.

Anyway, here it is, "The Thunder and the Fury"



EXT. AMERICAN WEST, LANDSCAPE. DAY.

We scope across a desert-like landscape, yellow ground, dehydrated trees and shrubbery, high peaks and cloudless skies, revealing a blistering sun.

In the distance four specks can be made out, obvious movement. As they grow closer, it’s clear that these are persons, four individuals, all clothed in shabby jackets, pants, vests, shirts, string ties, and pale cowboy hats. Three of them are riding horses; the other is wearily on foot. We begin to hear trotting as they grow even closer, soil breaking at the horse’s shoes and creating a murky cloud in their way.

The four individual’s names are TOMMY THUNDER, ZANE GREY, EAGLE-EYE and COOL HAND.

TOMMY THUNDER
(V.O.)
Welcome to the “Wild West” of America, Mexico, twentieth century. I’m not clear in mind what exact year it is, so I’ll just declare mid-twentieth century. My mutineers here with me are Eagle-Eye, he earns that title for having the most clear-cut eyesight known in our village, ‘Calgary’ that is. He can sense a bad-coming from faraway, sort of like a canine. It’s like a kind of sixth sense. The one to my left is Cool Hand, he gets that pet name from his missus. We’ve never exactly asked why. The very last cowboy is Zane Grey. You don’t ask why he’s called Zane Grey, he just is. We do rodeo back home at ‘Calgary’s Stampede Buckaroo’. The folk who owns that place is called Don “Red” Barry. That’s no nickname, that’s his actual first name and forename. Except the red. I don’t know what that’s for…

The three horses come to a halt, a gust of sand hazes our sight. When it clears, we see a community beyond.

TOMMY THUNDER
Not afar now, boys. Not a long way away at all.

COOL HAND, the individual on foot, collapses to the ground.

TOMMY THUNDER
Cool Hand, pick yourself up now, we’re winning here!

ZANE GREY
(To Cool Hand)
You wanna swap for a little while?

TOMMY THUNDER
Bullshit, he needs the exercise.

EAGLE-EYE
I think he needs some water.

TOMMY THUNDER
We all need a dampen of the tongue. Once we arrive, we’ll get ourselves a chilly beer.
(To Cool Hand)
Alright? Now up you come!

COOL HAND steadily arises to his feet.

CLOSE-UP: TOMMY’S FACE. An expression of fear, his appearance is drained.

TOMMY THUNDER
V.O.
This particular state of affairs hasn’t been spelt out clearly.
We’ve been sent by the Sheriff of our village, Broncho Billy Anderson, to eliminate the very Sheriff of this exact parish we’re about to embark upon in no time. It’s been whispered that ourselves have been selected to do this nasty deed because we’re dependable folks…but I know better. I reckon’ it’s because we’re the rebels. We’re the rebels of our community. Yes, it’s true that we often come across the odd scuffle and we often gain victory…and that’s what they’re hoping we do today…but I also know that if we don’t succeed our task, no one will sweat. Not for us. The only reason they will still live in apprehension is for the very fact that Jimmy Fury will still be living…and he’ll know where to come for them.

FADE INTO:

The group of four carries on their travel to the nearby community. The rays of sunlight beam down on the unsettled cloud of dust, causing a hazy view of the landscape.

For a second time, the horses come to a standstill. Tommy Thunder, Eagle-Eye and Zane Grey drop from their saddles and observe the area. An uncanny silence brings an anxious expression upon their faces. Cool Hand slides down on his knees and throws back his head, his eyes squinting in the sunlight. He narrows his eyes to a sign, ‘Saloon’. He scurries to his feet and sees a larger signboard above a terrace, ‘Howling Coyote Saloon’. The other three turn around to observe.

TOMMY THUNDER
C’mon boys, let’s get ourselves a well-deserved beverage.

CUT TO:

INT. HOWLING COYOTE SALOON.

It’s dim and lifeless space, not a person to be seen within. Everything is tidy and placed in an orderly fashion, seats tucked under tables, floor swept dirt-free, and stools in line with the bar, and a female tender, SMILEY BURNETTE, stands with a welcoming smile.

The foursome enters through a pair of half-width doors, hung in the middle of a doorway. As they stand bewildered by the absence of persons or any kind of atmosphere, the doors swing inward and outward.


TOMMY THUNDER
V.O.
I was nervous, I was very nervous. I needed alcohol. I needed more than alcohol. It was crucial that soon I should retire to the gentlemen’s room to make use of my opium and derivatives; cocaine chloral…whatever was left in my sack that hadn’t been dried out by the blistering heat. First I needed a cup of something.

SMILEY BURNETTE
You cowboys want a drink? You look dry.

TOMMY THUNDER
Yes. Yes, four beers, please.

SMILEY BURNETTE
Certainly!

The group of four rebels strolls to the bar, where they each pull up a stool and sit down.

SMILEY BURNETTE
(Pouring beer with an constant smile)
That’s right, take the weight of your feet. You cowboys look like you’ve been out in the sun all day, you got a tan.

The bunch is limp, Cool Hand grips onto the edge of the bar for support.


TOMMY THUNDER
If truth be told, since the crack of dawn.

SMILEY BURNETTE
Is that the truth? And what do they call you?

TOMMY THUNDER
I’ll have no people bearing my name.

SMILEY BURNETTE
Oh, I see. The man with no name?


TOMMY THUNDER
No, I have a name. I just ‘aint about to tell you.

SMILEY BURNETTE
Well, my name’s Smiley Burnette, and here are your drinks…

She places four icy beers on the bar.


TOMMY THUNDER
V.O.
I was getting cocky. I was being secretive; we don’t want any of these folks to be suspicious of us. I needed a remedy. I needed a cure for this crazy town and its disease.

Tommy picks up his beer and drinks hurriedly.

TOMMY THUNDER
I’m just going to retire to the man’s room…I’ll be right back…

SMILEY BURNETTE
(Smiling menacingly)
Happy trails to you, until we meet again…

Tommy moves towards a wooden door, carved upon it “Guys”. His eyes are fixated with Smiley Burnette’s, a look of uncertainty on his face.

CUT TO:

INT. “GUY’S” W.C.

Tommy removes the sack from his shoulder, dropping it on the floor. He unfastens the knot and empties its contents, pills, bottles and rags scatter across the floorboards.

TOMMY THUNDER
V.O.
Opium was essential. Any man can cope with any given situation whilst under the influence of an opium binge.

Tommy’s shaky, dirty hands clutch a rag of material. A bottle cap is opened at he pours its liquid onto the fabric, hastily thrusting it to his nostrils, and inhaling intensely, several times.

TOMMY THUNDER
V.O.
I’ll walk back into the saloon, take my seat, and courteously ask Smiley Burnette if she knows of the Sheriff’s whereabouts, if she won’t cooperate I’ll threaten to cut her merry lips off, which should get her attention. Then I’ll wait for my rebels to polish off their beverages, carry out the execution of Fury and depart from this goddamn hellhole. It all seemed so easy, and yet I would appear to be mistaken…

CUT TO:

INT. BAR AREA

The ‘Guy’s’ wooden door swings open, and a pale-faced Tommy Thunder steps out. His sunken eyes immediately widen, his upper lip quivers and his knees buckle.

COOL HAND, EAGLE-EYE and ZANE GREY are sprawled across the saloon floor, LIMBS severed, and they lay in pools of blood.

Smiley Burnette stands behind the bar, cleaning glasses with a cloth. Only now the customary smile is replaced with a look of sheer content. On the stool that Tommy was seated on a moment ago is a repulsive-looking man. He wears tightly-fitted dark pants with a belt, brown chaps, a filthy-white shirt, a cowhide patterned waistcoat, a grubby black hat and a badge that reads: SHERIFF.


TOMMY THUNDER
V.O.
Jimmy Fury…

JIMMY FURY
(To Tommy)
Sit down. I’ll buy you a drink…just one.

Tommy acts on impulse, and draws a COLT.45 from his pouch. Neither Jimmy nor Smiley reacts. Tommy aims it hopelessly at the Sheriff.

JIMMY FURY
When ya pull a gun, you kill a man.

Jimmy slowly stands from his stool, and edges towards Tommy.

JIMMY FURY
I’ll take that gun, cowboy.

TOMMY THUNDER
You’ll take it in the goddamn face if you don’t step back, Fury.

JIMMY FURY
Take it easy, pilgrim. You’re looking pasty…I think you…should take a seat…

Tommy loses steadiness and stumbles back, tripping on a severed arm. He falls back, there’s a sudden sound of GUNFIRE, as he hit’s the ground, hard.

[Ronaldinho]

A lot to talk about here.

From your opening description, it's clear that you need to pull back a little bit. You're overdescribing. That's a particular problem when you gets stuff wrong, like, well: string ties.

Do you think desperadoes riding across the plain wore string ties? But read your screenplays, and you'll learn that you're overwriting here.

The opening VO, well, a couple of issues:

First, you're telling, not showing. Show me stuff like that Eagle-Eye's earned his name. The voiceover adds nothing. In fact, it subtracts, thanks to lines like this:

"I’m not clear in mind what exact year it is, so I’ll just declare mid-twentieth century"

Mid twentieth century. So you mean around 1950?

All joking aside, I have a sneaking suspicion here that he doesn't know what year it is because YOU don't know what year it is, and that's not acceptable. You need to do your research. You need to have a specific year and a specific place, because that's how you'll get beyond the cliches which are choking this thing to death.

it'll also save you from silly errors, like a little cantina in the middle of nowhere selling beer. For the most part, beer was an urban drink. It's heavy and expensive to cart out to remote areas, so stronger stuff, like whiskey, was more popular. You do your research, you know stuff like this.

What else we got? You give me this close up, this expression of fear, but what's he afraid of? You need to make what's going on clear - and you need to do it without resorting to voiceovers.

Second VO, again, better to show than to tell.

Don't have him tell me he's nervous. SHOW me he's nervous by having him reveal it through behavior.

Similarly, it's fine to name a character smiley brunette - nothing wrong with that, if you think she's too unimportant to name. But if she's going to introduce herself, or if people are going to refer to her as if she had a name, then give her a name. Nobody says, "Hi, I'm smiley brunette." Just doesn't happen. You can "name" characters with brief descriptions like that, it's sometimes useful, for unimportant characters. But that's between you and your readers. It's NOT the reality of the characters.

When you write stuff like "cure for this crazy town ..." I can't track it, because I don't see anything crazy about this town. I don't understand why he's reacting ot the town by thinking it's crazy, because you haven't done the work to show me.

I couldn't tell you if it was possible to get an opium high through inhaling it or not. Certainly you can smoke it (although the smokeable stuff is not a liquid). However! I do know that if you're jonesing bad for a hit you're not going to do something as inefficient as inhaling it off a cloth. Maybe I'm wrong here but since you've gotten stuff wrong before now, as a reader I'm going to tend to not trust you and think this is another mistake.

"customary smile replaced with a look of sheer content." that doesn't make any sense at all since a look of sheer content would include a smile.

These old school western towns didn't have indoor plumbing.

And you don't make it seem like he gets so high that he'd be oblivious to a major fight in the other room.