Wes Craven’s Page #16

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as the line goes dead.

EXT. WES'S HOUSE - DAY

A modern home high above MALIBU. PAN ACROSS A POOL to a

PATIO, where we DISCOVER WES and HEATHER walking together.

WES:

I wish I could tell you where this script

is going. I don't know. Look, I dream a

scene, I write it down the next morning.

Your guess is as good as mine as to how

it ends.

He ducks inside, Heather running to catch up.

INT. WES'S HOUSE - DAY

HEATHER:

Well at least tell me what it's about so

far.

Wes stops as his HOUSEKEEPER emerges from the kitchen with a

steaming cup of coffee. Heather drinks immediately, despite

the scalding heat. When the housekeeper disappears, Craven

continues.

WES:

I can tell you what the nightmares are

about. They're about this...entity.

Whatever you want to call it. It's old,

very old, and it's taken different forms

in different times. The only thing that

stays the same about it is what it lives

for.

HEATHER:

What's that?

WES:

Killing innocence, one way or the other.

She notices the haunted eyes.

HEATHER:

This is still a script we're talking

about, right?

WES:

I think of it as sort of a nightmare in

progress.

She looks at him, he stares back, revealing nothing.

HEATHER:

Then, in this nightmare in progress, does

this thing have any weaknesses?

WES:

It can be captured, sometimes.

HEATHER:

Captured? How?

WES:

By storytellers, of all things. Every so

often, they imagine a story good enough

to catch its essence. Then it's held

prisoner for a while. In the story.

She looks at him.

HEATHER:

Like the Genie in the bottle.

WES:

Exactly.

(beat)

The problem comes when the story dies.

It happens a lot of different ways, the

story gets too familiar, or too watered

down by people trying to make it easier

to sell, or ti's labeled a threat to

society and just plain banned. However

it happens, when the story dies, the evil

is set free.

Heather blinks as it hits her.

HEATHER:

You saying Freddy's this ancient thing?

WES:

Current version. For ten years he's been

imprisoned as Freddy by the story of

Nightmare on Elm Street. But now that

the films have stopped-

(looks at her)

The genie's out of the bottle, Heather,

that's what the nightmares are about.

That's what I'm writing.

She looks at him, fear creeping up her spine.

HEATHER:

If Freddy's loose, I mean, in your

script, where's he going to go? Another

age? Another form?

WES:

That's not what the dreams say he's

doing.

HEATHER:

Then what is he doing?

WES:

Well, see, he's gotten used to being

Freddy now. And kinda likes it here in

our time and space, too. So...he's

trying to cross over, from film into our

reality.

Heather looks like she might pass out.

HEATHER:

Isn't there anyone that can stop him?

WES:

Interestingly enough, in the dreams there

is one person. A gatekeeper, so to

speak. Someone Freddy's got to get by

before he can enter our world.

(looks at her)

It's you, Heather.

HEATHER:

Me? Why me?

WES:

Dramatically speaking it makes perfect

sense. You played Nancy, after all, the

first to humiliate and defeat him.

HEATHER:

That was Nancy, not me!

WES:

But it was you that gave Nancy her

strength. So to get out he has to come

through you. And it's inevitable that

he'll hit you at your most vulnerable

points...

Heater pales.

HEATHER:

Dylan. And...

(realizes)

Chase. My God, Wes, did you know?

WES:

Heather, it's just a movie, a dream,

really...

HEATHER:

You know damn well it's more than that

now!

(lower)

How can we stop him?

He stops in the doorway to his studio. Heather sees this

room is draped against the light. In its center glows a

computer, a half-finished page of script on its screen. Next

to the computer, a narrow cot, its sheets twisted.

WES:

The way to stop him is to make another

movie. And I swear to you I'll stay at

my computer and keep writing until I

finish the script. But when that time

comes...

(quietly)

You're gonna have to make a choice.

HEATHER:

Choice? What kind of choice?

WES:

Whether or not you're willing to play

Nancy one last time.

FADE TO BLACK.

FADE UP ON:

INT. CHASE AND HEATHER'S BEDROOM - NIGHT

Heather studies long into the night, a host of books spread

around her. Yellow pads for notes, and she's brought the

coffee-maker right into the bedroom now. It sits prominently

on her bedside table.

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