The Death Artist

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THE DEATH ARTIST (1995)

(REMAKE OF CORMAN'S CLASSIC "BUCKET OF BLOOD")

INT JABBERJAW - NIGHT

The cavernous CLUB is packed with a cross section of ARTISTS, POETS,

ACTORS, MODELS, ROCKERS, GRUNGERS, PUNKS, ADDICTS, and other

assorted characters, standing at the bar and seated at tables -

bizarre PAINTINGS and SCULPTURES adorn the walls -

CLOSE on a BOOM BOX on a stage - the tape rolls, and soon strange

industrial music begins to blare from the box -

MAXWELL, an eccentric - looking man with a goatee and various

PIERCINGS on his face, stands on the stage in front of a microphone

- an abstract PORTRAIT hangs on the wall behind him -

MAXWELL:

I will talk to you of art, for

there is nothing else to talk

about, for there is nothing

else...life is nothing but

homeless traveler on the RTD

of art...

We pull back to see PATRONS sitting at tables amid various

sculptures, paintings, and displays of questionable artistic promise

-

MAXWELL:

Burn gas on the freeways, and whip your

sour cream of circumstance...flip at

your channels and plod at your monitors...

Soon we see WALTER PAISLEY, a meek, unassuming bus boy, work his way

around the tables, taking empty drinks, emptying ashtrays, all the

time listening to the performer on

stage -

MAXWELL:

Creation is, all else is not...

what is not creation is meatless

sausage, and rice cake, let it

all crumble to feed the artist -

Walter passes a table where an upscale ART DEALER with a ponytail

interrupts his prospective client to answer his

cellular phone -

MAXWELL:

The artist is, all others are not, a

canvas is a canvas or a painting, a

rock is a rock or a statue, a sound

is a sound or it is music, a preacher

is a preacher or an artist -

Walter passes ART, seated with two attractive women - he rolls

himself a cigarette, nodding in approval to Maxwell -

MAXWELL:

Where are John Joe Jake Jim Jerk,

dead dead dead, they were not born

before they were born, they were not

born, where are Leonardo, Mozart,

Shakespeare, alive alive alive, they

were born -

Walter continues to bus the room - he pauses to stop and listen to

Maxwell - he then looks over a MAN'S shoulder - he is sketching -

Walter observes the SKETCH -

POV It is a fairly good sketch of the room -

LEONARD, the artsy manager of the club, notices Walter pausing to

listen -

MAXWELL:

Bring on the multitudes and the

multitude of fishes - feed them

that you will be satisfied,

nourish the artist, stretch their

skin upon an easel, crush their

bones into a paste, so that he may

mold them, let them die, and by

their miserable death become the

clay in his hands, that he might

form an ashtray or an ark - that he

might take you in his magic hands

and wring from your marrow wonder -

all that is comes through the eye

of the artist -

Walter moves on - sees an attractive woman, CARLA, who opens a

MANILA ENVELOPE and removes some HEAD SHOTS of herself -

MAXWELL:

The rest are blind fish, swimming

in the cave of aloneness- swim on you

mortal and muddling maddened souls -

and dream, of one bright and sunny

island - some artist will bait a hook,

and let you bite upon it, bite hard, and

die -

Walter looks at Carla's picture -

MAXWELL:

In his stomach, you will feed

creation!

Maxwell turns off the tape, and the audience applauds -

Carla then looks up to see Walter looking at her picture - he

awkwardly smiles at her and she smiles back -

Leonard then approaches Walter -

LEONARD:

Walter, what are you doing?

WALTER:

I was just looking at Carla's

picture.

LEONARD:

Well that's not what I pay you for,

now is it?

WALTER:

Well I was uh, just looking...

LEONARD:

Well do some looking around the room.

I see cups, ashtrays - let's go...

Walter slinks away - Leonard gets close to Carla, very close, all

the time admiring her head shot -

LEONARD:

Ah, your new head shot...

(Beat)

I like it, very much...

CARLA:

Do you have to be so cold to him?

Leonard smiles, and strokes Carla's hair -

Walter watches this, the turns and walks away -

At the entrance of the club stands LOU, a man in a designer suit, no

tie - he scans the room as Walter passes him -

LOU:

How ya doin'?

WALTER:

Uh, hi.

Walter slinks away, and Lou looks around some more -

Art sees Lou -

Lou subtly gestures to Art and heads into the club -

Art gets up, addressing the two girls -

ART:

I'm out of here.

Art and Lou head toward the MEN'S ROOM -

INT MEN'S ROOM - NIGHT

Art and Lou check the stalls to see the room is empty -

ART:

Alright we're clear.

LOU:

Anything new?

ART:

Not really. One girl who fit the

descrip came in, kinda skinny, brunette,

didn't see much changing hands.

LOU:

Is the manager cooperating?

ART:

Yeah, he's keeping an eye out, said

he'd call us if he sees anything.

That's about it for tonight.

LOU:

Alright I got you, man. It's my

turn for freak patrol.

ART:

You know it.

(Beat)

I'm out of here.

Art heads out, and Lou checks himself in the mirror -

INT JABBERJAW - NIGHT

Maxwell sits at a table with Carla, MAYOLIA, a skinny yet buxom

woman, and CHARLIE, a long-haired hanger-on - Maxwell is looking at

Carla's head shot -

CARLA:

So, do you like it?

MAXWELL:

(bored)

It's perfectly adequate, as far

as those type of things go...

Walter approaches, with a tray of glasses in his hand -

MAXWELL:

(changing subject)

I don't think anyone gets what

I said, their blank faces staring,

mute, unfeeling -

WALTER:

I liked it very much Mr. Brock.

I liked it very much.

MAXWELL:

(condescending)

Well I'm overjoyed.

WALTER:

"Let them die, and by their miserable

death become the clay in his hands,

that he might form an ashtray or an

ark -"

Carla looks at Walter -

CARLA:

That's word for word.

MAXWELL:

Is it? I've forgotten.

MAYOLIA:

You mean you don't remember your

own poem?

MAXWELL:

I refuse to say anything twice -

repetition is death!

CHARLIE:

What do you mean?

MAXWELL:

When you repeat something, you

are reliving a moment, wasting

it, looking at a shed skin - I

only want new impression, new

sensations -

WALTER:

I thought you believed that life

is a homeless traveler riding on

the RTD of -

MAXWELL:

(interrupting)

I know that - I know that! I also

believe in burning the creative

candle, you understand, down to

the end - to be uncreative you

might as well be dead...a walking

machine, toiling in a factory!

WALTER:

I worked in one of them. Back in

Alaska.

(smiles meekly)

The people at the table look at Walter, then laugh

cynically -

In the background, Leonard glares at Walter -

CARLA:

Walter, Leonard's looking at you

again.

Walter grabs up a cup and saucer off the table, almost spilling the

contents before heading off -

CHARLIE:

That guy's a class-A cracker.

MAXWELL:

Walter's got a clear mind. Probably

something will enter it, feel lonely,

and leave again...

Everyone at the table laughs weakly -

At another table two eccentrically dressed ARTISTS, CUFF and LINK,

talk to an upscale older couple - Cuff has a series of MATTED

PHOTOGRAPHS in his hand -

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