Sing Street Page #7

DARREN:

He’s the one colored guy in the

whole school. Probably in Dublin!

Having a Golliwog in the band would

give us a real edge.

CONOR:

You can’t say Golliwog.

DARREN:

Why not?

CONOR:

Trust me. You just can’t.

Darren looks to Eamon for this. Eamon shakes his head,

agreeing with Conor. Darren shrugs.

CONOR:

Anyway what if he can’t play

anything?

DARREN:

He’ll be able to play something.

He’s black!

(CONTINUED)

35.

Close on a FLYER up on a notice board in school. It reads:

Futurist band forming. Looking for

Bass player, drummer, and keyboard.

Own instruments not essential, as

we have them. Influences include

DEPECHE MODE, DURAN DURAN and many

more! Contact Management Solutions

at 221 St. Teresa’s Gardens. No

telephone. Just call in.

EXT. A HOUSE ON A HOUSING ESTATE - DAY

Conor, Eamon and Darren knock on the door of a small house on

a shitty housing estate. In a moment, an enormous, beautiful

woman answers the door. She speaks in a strong Nigerian

accent, wearing colorful headgear and dress. They’ve never

seen anything like it.

EAMON:

Wow.

WOMAN (EARLY 30S)

Can I help you?

DARREN:

Is this the house where the colored

lad lives?

WOMAN:

What do you think? How many black

people do you think live on this

shitting estate!?

(beat)

Do you know Ngig?

DARREN:

What is that?

WOMAN:

My son! Do you know my son?

CONOR:

No. But we’re in his school. And

we’re putting a band together. Does

he play any instruments?

WOMAN:

(opening the door wider)

Why don’t you ask him yourself.

They enter.

DARREN:

Does he speak English?

36.

INT. NGIG’S SITTING ROOM - MOMENTS LATER

The three lads stand in a small, tidy living space. In front

of them, NGIG (14), a black kid, stocky, well built.

DARREN:

(very slowly)

WE-ARE-PUTTING-A-BAND-TOGETHER. IAM-

THE-MANAGER.

NGIG:

What the hell is wrong with him?

When he speaks, he speaks in a tough, inner city Dublin

accent.

DARREN:

Oh. You sound different from your

ma?

NGIG:

‘Course I do, I’ve been here half

me bleedin life. What did you

expect.

CONOR:

Would you have any interest in

being in a band?

He clearly is.

NGIG:

Maybe. What kind of music are yous

playing?

EAMON:

We’re not 100 percent sure yet. But

do you play any instruments?

He is about to shake his head, when his mother interrupts.

NGIG’S MOTHER

Of course he does. He’s black.

Ngig looks doubtfully at his ma. She nods her head.

Music starts up on the track. It’s sketchy, out of time, but

vaguely recognizable. It’s a bad cover version of RIO, by

Duran Duran.

INT. SYNGE STREET SCHOOL CORRIDOR - DAY

Song over.

TRACK out from the flier. Two KIDS are writing down the

number from the flier on the wall. They are identical twin

rhythm section, GARRY and LARRY (14).

(CONTINUED)

37.

It is hard to read the number, as the poster is covered in an

array of Spunking Dick drawings.

INT. EAMON’S LIVING ROOM - DAY

Conor sings into a microphone. Eamon plays rhythm guitar.

Garry fingers a bass guitar. His twin brother Larry sits

behind the drum kit. Ngig cycles through sounds on an early

synthesizer. He has no real idea what he’s doing.

Conor is hesitant and nervous. Though he can sing, he has

zero presence.

It’s chaos. They are all dressed in their school uniforms and

look awful.

TRACK down to find a tape casette recorder on a chair in the

middle of them. It is RECORDING.

The song ends.

NGIG:

Not bad.

GARRY:

Sounds great.

NGIG:

I think we sped up a little.

EAMON:

Really? We were sh*t.

LARRY:

Yeah, it’s a sh*t song. We should

be a metal band.

CONOR:

It’s not the song. It’s us.

It was all over the place. Let’s

try it again.

LARRY:

Smoke break!

EAMON:

What?

NIGIG:

Cool. I’m gasping for a smoke!

They all run out.

Eamon sighs, looking at Conor, the only other one who hasn’t

left his station.

38.

INT. THE SHED - MOMENTS LATER

ALL of the band are crammed into the shed smoking.

NGIG:

So what are we called?

They think.

EAMON:

The Rabbits?

NGIG:

What is wrong with you and

Rabbits??

EAMON:

I just love them. So fluffy. Those

ears. Not a dog. Yet not quite a

cat. And manageable sh*t. Just, the

perfect pet.

CONOR:

I have an idea. What about “La

Vie”.

Silence. Darren looks at him, witheringly.

DARREN:

What does that mean?

CONOR:

It French for “The Life”

GARRY:

What’s French for “That’s not going

to be the name of the band”?

CONOR:

(beat)

“C’est nes pas le nom du groupe”

GARRY:

Right. There you go.

EAMON:

What about Sing Street.

They think about this. Not bad.

CONOR:

I like that.

INT. BRENDAN’S ROOM - NIGHT

Song continues.

(CONTINUED)

39.

Pull out from Brendan’s tape machine. Conor is playing his

brother his first demo tape. The tape reads “SING STREET”

DEMO 1. If it sounded bad live this afternoon, it sounds

worse played back on a small tape machine.

Conor chews his nails in anticipation of his big brother’s

response. Brendan finally ejects the tape before it’s over.

BRENDAN:

This is BAD. And there’s nothing as

bad as bad music. And you must

never play this again.

To Conor’s surprise, he begins unspooling the tape, pulling

it out in a pile at his feet.

CONOR:

You know you can record over tapes?

BRENDAN:

No no. All evidence of this day

must be destroyed.

He finally bins the tape.

BRENDAN:

That’s a novelty act. You want to

get the girl right?

CONOR:

What?

BRENDAN:

(shouting, impatient)

The Girl! That’s what this is

about? Right?

CONOR:

(thinking)

Oh. Yes. The girl. Right. Okay.

BRENDAN:

Right. So you’re going to get her

with someone else’s art? Are you

kidding me?

CONOR:

I suppose. But we’re just starting

out. We need to learn how to play.

BRENDAN:

Play? PLAY? You don’t need to know

how to play! You think the Sex

Pistols knew how to play? Who are

you, Steely Dan?

(CONTINUED)

40.

Brendan is coming into his own. He leaves his chair, pacing

the room. Pulling different records from his collection. He

now has the first project of his adult life: his brother.

BRENDAN:

You have to learn how to NOT play.

That’s rock n roll. And that takes

practice.

(beat)

And you’re not a covers band!

CONOR:

Really?

BRENDAN:

Every school has a covers band.

Every wedding. Every pub. And in

every covers band there’s a middle

aged man who never knows if he

could have made it because he never

had the balls to write a song for

someone. Rock n Roll is a risk. You

risk being ridiculed.

Conor thinks about this.

CONOR:

I don’t know how to write a song.

Brendan now has a large pile of records in his arms. He

points at the door.

BRENDAN:

Close the door. And sit down.

CONOR:

Really? I have school in the

morning.

BRENDAN:

THIS... is school.

Conor closes the door. Sits down. It’s going to be a long

night.

DISSOLVE TO:

SONG 1

A song is formed...

INT. EAMON’S LIVING ROOM - DAY

Conor and Eamon are alone in the rehearsal room. Conor

reading from a little notebook of scrawled thoughts and

pictures. Eamon sits on the edge of the couch with an

acoustic guitar.

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