House on Haunted Hill Page #5

Terror, Humiliation, Perhaps Even

MURDER:

Will Be The Entertainment

WOMAN'S VOICE (O.S.)

Don't get much better than that.

INT. HEARSE #3 - MOVING - NIGHT

where we see the well-manicured hands of this Woman, her left

holding an 8mm Camcorder; her right, the same card:

With ONE MILLION DOLLARS Paid

To Those That Survive The Entire Night

YOUNG MAN'S VOICE (O.S.)

Terrific:
what's the catch?

INT. HEARSE #4 - MOVING - NIGHT

where we see hands of a Man barely out of his teens, his

muscular right hand holding that same card as well:

Inside the Walls Of

THE HOUSE ON HAUNTED HILL

Suddenly the screech of brakes is heard -- Hearse #4 jolts to

a halt. The invitation flies from the Young Man's hand and to

the floor, the rest of its text unread.

EXT. "THE HOUSE" - NIGHT

We see the reason for the sudden stop of the cortege. An

ancient CHRYSLER K CAR is parked clear across the road,

barring the entrance to the gate of a razor-wire security

fence that encircles the premises. Beat. And then a short,

slight MAN steps out of the vehicle. In the glare of the

Hearses' headlights his features look cadaverous. Between

that and the fact he's jittering like a hummingbird on speed,

he makes a pretty unsettling presence.

The Man walks slowly towards the hearses, beckoning the

riders out.

MAN (PRITCHETT)

This is the end...by car anyway.

What with the '94 quake and El Nino,

the driveway's been pretty much

destroyed. 'Shame. Have to hoof it

from here.

The well-tanned Man from Hearse #2 steps out: DR. DONALD W.

BLACKBURN -- he could be anywhere from 19 to 90. The only

thing that's clear is all the cosmetic surgery he's had makes

him look like George Hamilton, circa 1962. He asks the

obvious:

BLACKBURN:

If you don't mind me asking... Who are

you?

PRITCHETT:

Name's Pritchett. Watson Pritchett.

I own the house, my father built it.

And now I just need to get you into

it. So...

The Camcorder Woman steps out of Hearse #3: a Jenny Jones-

clone named MELISSA MARR, 27.

MELISSA:

Where's Steven Price and his huge,

throbbing checkbook?

PRITCHETT:

Not with you, is he? Well, I'm sure

he'll turn up any second now... If

you'll just come along...

The Muscular Young Man from Hearse #4 steps out: a good-

looking specimen named EDDIE MOSES, 23.

EDDIE:

I wanna know first: to what do I

owe this honor? I mean, I never

even heard of this guy.

PRITCHETT:

I'm just the Greeter -- and

in that capacity, I now urge you

all strongly to --

And then Sara-as-Jenzen regally alights from Hearse #1.

SARA:

But the million bucks each, that's

for real?

PRITCHETT:

(a forced chuckle)

It better be -- he still owes me

$25 grand for renting the place

for the night! Here, let's get

you some illumination so you

can make your way safely!

He grabs a flashlight from his car and shoves it in Sara's

hand.

PRITCHETT:

Just point and walk, sis -- the

place is right up --

-- and as if on cue, a battery of magnesium floods suddenly

light up the night like high noon, revealing the House in all

its glory.

PRITCHETT:

(startled)

...there.

Sitting high atop a bluff over the Pacific, a sprawling

grey-stone structure. One-third Eames, to one-third Wright,

to one-third Bauhaus.

It might look innocuous in the daylight, but right now it

looks like Albert Speer's Playhouse. And underscoring the

creepy ambience is MUSIC now blaring from speakers perched

atop the gate:
Marilyn Manson's screeching Goth-metal cover

of "Sweet Dreams (Are Made Of These)".

BLACKBURN:

Nice touch, Pritchett: subtle.

EDDIE:

As a tumor.

PRITCHETT:

Wish I could take the credit, but --

SARA:

-- guess we know where Mr. Price is

now.

PRITCHETT:

He must've beaten us all here!

EDDIE:

'Less the place really is haunted.

PRITCHETT:

Nonsense! Just bad press. All the

deaths that occurred inside --

my own father's included -- all

perfectly normal fatal accidents.

MELISSA:

You better be wrong. I didn't

come all this way for "normal."

She starts making her way up the disaster of a driveway. Dr.

Blackburn and Sara look at each other and shrug.

They start likewise walking towards the house. The only one

left is Eddie. He stares at the little man.

EDDIE:

You're totally full of sh*t, aren't you?

PRITCHETT:

(brightly)

You'll never know 'til you walk

through that door!

Eddie dismisses him with a flap of his hand and sprints to

catch up with the others. Pritchett yells after him:

PRITCHETT:

You wouldn't consider getting my check

and running it back down here?

No response. Beat. Pritchett gets out of his car.

PRITCHETT:

Didn't think so. A**hole.

He starts jittering his way up the drive.

INT. GRAND FOYER - SOON AFTER

Cold. Flinty. Two stories high and domed, with a stained

glass skylight topping it. Despite their varied states of

confusion, the four Guests stop in their tracks as they

enter, struck dumb with awe.

EDDIE:

...Jesus H. Christ.

MELISSA:

So where's the party?

SARA:

Looks like we're it.

Rate this script:0.0 / 0 votes