LOOKING FOR ALASKA, Exercises of French

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LOOKING FOR ALASKA

Episode One

"Famous Last Words"

Written by Josh Schwartz

Based on the novel By John Green

April 20th, 2018

Spin on the slick highway asphalt.

BACK TO THE COPS

Scattering... now running for their lives --

MILES HALTER’S VOICE (CONT’D) My favorite last words ever? The French Poet Francois Rabelais, who said: “I go to seek the Great Perhaps.” Because that’s what I was after too.

THROUGH THE WINDSHIELD

There is no fear. The car never brakes. Is it homicide? Suicide? There’s no time to tell before the car is --

CRASHING into the POLICE CARS. Steel and metal SCREAM. The hood crumples, the windshield BLOWS OUT. Still the car doesn’t stop --

It PLOWS off the road, ROLLING down an EMBANKMENT. Glass and metal pounding the earth, spraying the air --

Until it comes to rest. Wheels up. Totaled.

As fast as that, it’s over.

SILENCE. Save for the rain.

And one last image:

A plastic tulip crushed against the shattered windshield.

MILES HALTER’S VOICE (CONT’D) Except I wanted to find the Great Perhaps before I died.

Fade to BLACK.

Until one simple word fills the screen.

before.

EXT. ORLANDO - 2005

Our story is set in the mid aughts. So is our music.

Clap Your Hands and Say Yeah’s “THE SKIN OF MY YELLOW COUNTRY TEETH” over --

A sprawling suburban development. Row after row of identical middle class homes.

Safe.

New.

Oppressive in its conformity.

QUICK CUTS OF:

-- a bag of chips being poured into a bowl.

-- homemade spinach dip being spooned out.

-- green and yellow streamers unfurling.

-- champagne poppers set out around a coffee table.

INT. MILES HALTER’S LIVING ROOM - DAY

A handmade banner reads: “GOOD-BYE TO MILES!”

Beneath it sits MILES HALTER, 16. Body of a gangly teenager. Soul of an old man. Flanked by his parents, WALT, clear eyed pragmatist and JUDY, supportive to the point of suffocation.

This party was her idea.

The Halter family are the only ones in attendance. Judy tries to put a positive spin on things.

JUDY It’s not even five. I’m sure your classmates will show. They’re just running fashionably late.

But Miles knows better.

MILES Yes, Mom. I’ve been keeping my popularity a secret all these years.

WALT It’s okay. This way, there’s more for me.

Walt is about to dive into the spinach dip, but Judy shoots him a look. Suddenly the doorbell rings.

Judy is beyond relieved. Miles is puzzled.

WILL

(to Miles) You totally should. In case your new school is taken hostage by terrorists. Or the mob. Samwise kicks ass. Could be very instructional.

This conversational hot topic now covered, everyone goes silent again.

MARIE Well, we just dropped by to say good-bye. So, I guess...

Miles can’t get to his feet fast enough.

INT. MILES HALTER'S HOUSE - FRONT DOOR - MOMENTS LATER

Miles waves goodbye to his not really friends. His parents flank him, also waving. Once the guests are out of earshot --

WALT The only thing worse than having a party no one attends is having a party attended only by two vastly uninteresting people.

JUDY Walter.

MILES Agree with Dad.

JUDY We don’t know that no one else is coming.

INT. MILES HALTER'S HOUSE - LIVING ROOM - LATER

Miles is back on the couch, again flanked by his parents. They watch the PBS News Hour on TV. The Iraq war wages on, W. offers empty platitudes.

At this point it’s clear no one else is coming.

JUDY Is this why you want to leave?

MILES No. Really, it’s not --

WALT

It’s ‘cause of me. All those stories he heard about how his father was quite the legend at Culver Creek. Raised hell and aced all my classes.

MILES Not exactly. I mean there’s lots of more exotic places I could dream of going... but you’d have said no and they offered a partial scholarship. So Alabama and dad’s alma mater will have to do.

WALT You’re welcome.

JUDY But why do you have to go anywhere?

MILES I’ve told you why --

JUDY Please. Because of some French Poet’s last words? What if they made a mistake in the translation --

MILES I just need to know there’s more out there. I need... (the truth) ...a more than minor life.

JUDY (to Walt) We shouldn’t have let him read all your books about great men in history.

WALT What’s wrong with wanting to be great?

JUDY I just don’t want him to be disappointed.

MILES At this point, I’m open to disappointment.

She gives a last look up at her house. But it’s clear she’s ready to get the hell out of there.

The screen door hangs off the hinges. The front porch sags, the yard is overrun. And worst of all, there’s no one there to see her off. No one, except --

RAISIN, her cat, who purrs from the top of the driveway. Alaska kneels in front of the cat. Scratching his ears.

ALASKA See ya, Raisin. If he asks, I left for school. You are my witness.

Off Raisin -- carrying the weight of this responsibility...

EXT. VINE STATION, ALABAMA - DAY

Blue Citrus speeds along the winding country roads. Following the signs for Birmingham...

INT. BLUE CITRUS - (MOVING) - CONTINUOUS

Alaska holds a cigarette in one hand, spins the trackwheel on her scuffed first generation iPod with the other. She turns up the volume on the music (The Killers song we’ve been hearing). Windows down. Singing out loud.

The further she puts home behind her, the lighter everything feels.

INT. HALTER MINIVAN - DAY

Walt and Judy ride up front, Miles in the back.

Through the car window, Miles bids farewell to Florida as the amusement parks and chain restaurants recede into the distance. A world of plastic and parking garages.

On the interstate, they pass a sign: WELCOME TO ALABAMA THE BEAUTIFUL.

Miles can’t help but smile. His journey has finally begun...

EXT. CULVER CREEK ACADEMY - DAY

Alaska drives past the low rise cinderblock buildings that give the school an architectural vibe somewhere between a Motel 6 and a prison. Pulling into --

STUDENT PARKING LOT

The Blue Citrus draws some side eye from wealthier FAMILIES unpacking their Jaguars and Range Rovers. Alaska parks next to a souped-up F-150 pick-up, which blasts Toby Keith.

MARYA, (16, Alaska’s roommate; preppy Southern belle but wanting to rebel) unloads dorm furniture from the pick-up with her boyfriend PAUL, (17, lacrosse god, Puka shells). She runs to Alaska, giving her a big hug.

MARYA Hey, girl! Omigod, I thought my mom would never leave -- so much crying and hugging and carrying on...

ALASKA Tell me about it. That’s why I drive myself. To get all the tears and hugs out of the way. (then) Let’s catch up on the road? Coosa’s cashiers have a shift change in twenty. Trust me, we want Gus manning that register.

MARYA I can’t just leave Paul to move me in on his own --

ALASKA Sure you can. (calls out) Paul -- you don’t mind finishing up while your lovely girlfriend and I pick up some sundry items?

Paul gives Marya a sly smile --

PAUL Only if she promises to make it up to me later...

Marya grins, hopping in the car. But Alaska interjects --

ALASKA Um, what the fuck, Paul? She shouldn’t have to leverage her body so you’ll be a good boyfriend. That kind of sexist bullshit is why we need to dismantle the patriarchy.

MARYA

Paul and I agreed -- if we stayed together long distance all summer -- then the first night back we would...

ALASKA Make an honest woman out of you? (Marya nods) You don’t have to if you don’t want to.

MARYA I want to.

Alaska cups Marya’s face in her hand.

ALASKA They grow up so fast. (then) You coming?

MARYA I’m too chickenshit...

INT. COOSA’S LIQUORS - DAY

Dusty floorboards. A large barrel by the counter with a LIVE BAIT sign, but contains exclusively dead minnows.

Alaska waits as GUS the cashier (20s, hungover, no genius on a good day) eyeballs the I.D.

GUS This says you’re twenty eight.

ALASKA I can’t believe it either. Time, right? (shakes her head) I believe it was the great Theodore Geisel who said, “How did it get so late so soon? It's night before it's afternoon. December is here before it's June. My goodness how the time has flewn.” You might know him as Dr. Seuss. (then) Life goes fast. Ask me, feels like I was just in high school.

GUS Because you are in high school...?

ALASKA

I wish. My adolescence would have no doubt been greatly enhanced from the anesthetizing effects of Coosa Liquor’s Strawberry Hill rosé. (thinks...) Though on the other hand I probably would have overindulged. Made some very bad decisions... Involving boys... girls... teachers. (smiles, flirty) Lord knows what would have happened without my inhibitions...

Gus stares at her.

GUS You don’t sound like you’re in high school.

ALASKA And that, Gus, is the whole point.

Alaska smiles, full of confidence.

EXT. COOSA’S LIQUOR - MOMENTS LATER

Alaska emerges with a bagful of wine in each arm. Inside the car, Marya cheers. Alaska heads for the trunk, looks up to make sure she’s not busted as --

The HALTER MINIVAN drives past. Alaska catches a passing glimpse of Miles, in the backseat.

INT. HALTER MINIVAN - INTERCUT

But for Miles, seeing Alaska... it’s like the whole world slows down. It’s not just that she’s pretty, or holding an armful of wine. But something... else.

Until she’s gone in a blur.

BACK WITH ALASKA --

She climbs in the car. Hands a bottle of wine to Marya.

ALASKA You’re gonna need this tonight.

EXT. CULVER CREEK ACADEMY - LATER

The Halter minivan drives onto campus.

Architecturally -- with its low, flat, vaguely barn-like buildings -- it’s not much to look at. But there’s no denying its natural beauty -- spectacular oak trees, a glistening pond. And most importantly --

There are STUDENTS everywhere. New faces and endless possibilities. None of whom know anything about Miles Halter’s minor life.

WALTER Looks just like it did the day I left...

JUDY Not a great selling point. (off Walter) Would it have killed them to update the campus over the last thirty years? Or at least air conditioning?

MILES Wait, I don’t have air conditioning?

WALTER We got you a fan. Sweat builds character. (pointing out) That’s the school bell we stole. Took six of us to get the sucker down, before we buried it in the cemetery.

JUDY We know, Walter.

WALTER (proud) Still the greatest prank in Culver history.

INT. DORM ROOM - LATER

A cinder block box with a linoleum floor and a bunk bed. Now filled with Miles’ bags. Walt and Miles, sweaty from the move, watch as Judy starts unpacking socks. She’s trying to postpone the inevitable.

MILES

I can do that, Mom.

JUDY At least let me hang your pants.

MILES I got it.

WALT Don’t forget to call. Every Sunday.

MILES I don’t have a cell phone.

WALT That’s what the payphones are for.

JUDY But we’ll get you a cell phone if it means you’ll call more.

Judy can feel the tears coming on. Walt tries to wrap it up.

WALT We can’t draw these things out forever. At some point you just have to rip off the Band-Aid.

JUDY He’s not a band-aid. He’s our son. And we’re going to miss you so much.

Judy steps through the minefield of suitcases to hug Miles. Walt joins them. They hold in this awkward group hug.

JUDY (CONT’D) Can I help make your bed --

MILES I’m good. I promise. (then, smiles) After the unpacking comes the adventure, right?

QUICK POPS:

-- Miles stares out the window as his parents drive away. This is real.

-- Miles pulls biographies from his trunk. Sets them on his bookshelf. Kennedy, Bogart, Joyce.

Miles stands in the same spot. Silently watching these kids hug and gossip. Miles is invisible to them.

He’s not invisible to the sun. Nothing is. Even the walls seem to be sweating.

INT. DORM ROOM - BATHROOM - LATER

Miles stands hunched beneath the too low shower head. The water dribbling around him. He contorts himself to get his head wet.

Has he made a terrible mistake?

INT. DORM ROOM - A FEW MINUTES LATER

Miles steps out of the bathroom, skimpy towel wrapped around him.

The front door flies open and Chip Martin aka The Colonel comes barreling in, hauling a gigantic duffel bag.

THE COLONEL You must be the roommate. Name’s Chip. Chip Martin. (then) I’d shake your hand but I think it’s best if you just hold onto that towel.

MILES (self conscious, nods) I’m Miles. Miles Halter.

THE COLONEL Miles? As in “to go before I sleep?” (off Miles, huh?) It’s a Robert Frost poem. Ever read him? (Miles shakes his head) Consider yourself lucky. Also no one calls me Chip.

MILES Didn’t you just say that was --?

THE COLONEL Call me The Colonel. And we’ll call you Pudge. (off Miles) (MORE)

It’s called irony. Pants on, Pudge.

Miles scurries to grab some clothes --

INT. DORM ROOM - BATHROOM - MOMENTS LATER

Miles gets dressed. Calls through the bathroom door.

MILES Where are your parents?

THE COLONEL (O.S.) My parents? Well, my Dad’s probably passed out in his La-Z-Boy right now. Or behind the wheel of his truck. Either way he’s drunk off his ass. My mom just dropped me off.

Miles isn’t quite sure how to respond to this.

INT. DORM ROOM - MOMENTS LATER

Miles returns, now dressed, as the Colonel puts his bed sheets down on the top bunk.

THE COLONEL I’m a top bunk man. Hope you don’t mind -- (before Miles can respond) I see you decorated the place.

The Colonel gestures to the map. Then, as he’s making the bed, he just starts rattling off -

THE COLONEL (CONT’D) Afghanistan. Albania. Algeria. American Samoa. Andorra. Angola. Anguilla. Antigua. Argentina. Armenia... I could do the rest, but I’d probably bore you.

The bed made, the Colonel moves to his duffel bag. His idea of unpacking is throwing his clothes in any order into any drawer.

MILES You memorized all the countries --?

THE COLONEL (CONT'D)