Panic Room
FADE IN:
EXT. MANHATTAN - DAY
The whole island, from the south. For a second. Literally.
Closer, just the skyline. For another second.
Closer still, the Upper West Side. For another second. No
time to waste admiring the scenery.
Race across a field of PEDESTRIANS to pick up three women
hurrying down the sidewalk. LYDIA LYNCH, a real estate
broker, vaults down the sidewalk, she's got a hell of a
stride. MEG ALTMAN, thirtyish, struggles to keep up with
her, she's tall, wafer-thin, pale as a ghost. SARAH, a nine
year old girl, flat out runs to keep up, dribbling a
basketball as she goes. The kid's athletic, much tougher
than Meg, who she resembles.
Lydia reads from a sheet she carries in her bouncing hands.
LYDIA:
-- seventeen feet wide, fifty-five
feet deep, forty-two hundred square
feet, four floors with a rentable
basement apartment, so five
altogether, courtyard in back --
MEG:
Could you slow down a little?
(looking back over her
shoulder)
Or we could wait for the car...
LYDIA:
No cars. Feet are faster.
MEG:
How many more do we have after this?
LYDIA:
None, there's nothing else, you know
MEG:
This is it? I told you on the
phone, I have to be moved in in two
weeks. Sarah, please don't bounce
that here.
SARAH:
Mom, it's the sidewalk.
LYDIA:
Oh, that miserable little prick is
already leaving.
They approach a row of brownstones, narrow four story
townhouses, nice looking buildings, a hundred years old or
more. EVAN, a sour-looking man, has just locked the front
door of number 26 and is coming down the steps. He sees them
coming.
EVAN:
One day you will learn to respect
other people's time, Lydia, one day
you --
LYDIA:
Evan, I am so sorry, you were a
saint to wait for us!
CUT TO:
Evan throws open the front door, revealing the airy foyer of
the townhouse. The place is completely empty. He talks
fast, races through the tour. The three of them come in,
Sarah still bouncing her basketball.
EVAN:
This is the middle of the house, the
entry floor, living room's over
there. The kitchen floor's below us
and there's two bedroom floors
above.
The front door closes behind them, with a THUD so
authoritative it seems to say no one's ever getting out. Meg
tries to get her daughter's attention, to tell her to stop
bouncing the ball in the house.
EVAN:
It's an enormous amount of space for
the money and I'll be perfectly
honest, the family is in no hurry
whatsoever.
Meg whispers Sarah's name, but Sarah still ignores her, goes
on bouncing the ball.
EVAN:
I don't have to tell you there is an
acute shortage of living space in
Manhattan right now and this is a
highly unique property.
LYDIA:
No ball, kid.
Sarah immediately stops bouncing. She wanders into the
living room, peers through the big French doors, which look
out over the courtyard area. There's another row of
brownstones on the next block, and all the patios back up to
one another. It looks tranquil out there, oasis in the city.
Sarah leans up against the door, sighs, her breath fogs the
window. There is a profound melancholy about her. Meg
watches her, tries to catch eyes with her in the reflection.
Can't.
Evan flings open the door of an old-fashioned cage-style
elevator.
EVAN:
Working elevator. Mr. Pearlstine,
the previous owner, was disabled the
last ten years of his life. Highly
unusual, the elevator, you will not
find this in ninety percent of
brownstones.
MEG:
Will they take asking price? I need
a two week escrow and I'm already
approved for the loan.
Lydia turns, gives Meg an "are you insane?" look.
EVAN:
What say we see the house before we
dicker, hmm?
(starting up the stairs)
I have to warn you, this is exactly
the response we expected to get.
It's a very emotional property.
As he disappears upstairs, Lydia turns to Meg, lowers her
voice.
LYDIA:
Who taught you to negotiate?
SARAH:
It's not like Saks', Mom, you don't
have to pay the price on the tag.
She gets in the elevator and RATTLES the door shut with a
bang. That kid's got an attitude. Meg takes a deep breath,
turns to Lydia. She brushes her hair behind an ear, we
notice her thin hand is shaking.
MEG:
I'm sorry. Apartments, and...
money, and... this is more my
husband's area.
She digs in her purse for a prescription pill bottle and some
water.
MEG:
Was. His area. I'm not very good
at...
Lydia watches as she swallows a pill, waiting for Meg to
finish her sentence. Not very good at what?
MEG:
Things, and if I can't prove to my
soon to-be ex-husband that I can
provide a suitable place for our
daughter to live in the next
fourteen days, it's going to get
ugly between us. Uglier.
Lydia just looks at her, no idea what to say. These two are
from different places.
EVAN (O.S.)
(from upstairs)
It would be so lovely if I could
shot the property before I leave!
CUT TO:
Evan, Lydia, and Meg poke their heads in a series of rooms,
one after the other, the tour flying by quickly. First, an
upstairs bedroom. Nice, roomy, looks out on the courtyard.
EVAN:
Top floor. Two bedrooms, one
bathroom.
INT. DEN - DAY
Another floor, another empty room. The trio passes through.
EVAN:
Third floor, spare bedroom, den,
what have you. Mr. Pearlstine used
it as an office.
LYDIA:
(low voice, to Meg)
He's talking about Bernard
Pearlstine.
Meg shrugs, who's that?
EVAN:
(moving, through a
bathroom)
Master bath.
LYDIA:
The hotel guy? It's been in the
papers lately. His kids are all
suing each other over his estate.
He was a total recluse, paranoid,
rich as hell, he was worth thirty
million or something, now it turns
out they can't find half of it.
(singsong)
Somebody took something didn't
belong to them!
EVAN:
I hardly see how family gossip is
germane to showing the property.
LYDIA:
(low, to Meg)
Stop calling it the property, you
sound ridiculous.
EVAN:
(through a closet)
Master closet.
From the hallway, there is a GROANING METALLIC sound, the
elevator, and the happy laughter of the little girl as she
puts it through its paces. Evan winces, speaks as if his
EVAN:
Could the child please stop that?
LYDIA:
KID! NO ELEVATOR!
She looks at Meg and winks.
INT. MASTER BEDROOM - DAY
EVAN:
And we emerge in the master bedroom.
He checks his watch.
Meg looks around, studying the dimensions of the room. She
looks at the far wall, the one that borders the house next
door. She looks at the wall that corners it, opposite the
window wall. She takes two steps back from it.
MEG:
Something's weird.
LYDIA:
What?
MEG:
I don't know, doesn't that corner
seem funny to you?
She points to the far end of the wall, near the entrance to
the closet. There is a mirrored door that leads to the
closet, and a mirror on the wall alongside it. If you look
closely, you'll see that the mirrors are raked slightly
toward one another, which causes an optical illusion in which
the corner of the room appears much closer to the door than
it is.
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"Panic Room" Scripts.com. STANDS4 LLC, 2024. Web. 23 Dec. 2024. <https://www.scripts.com/script/panic_room_916>.
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