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Wes Craven’s Page #6
- Year:
- 1994
- 40 Views
HEATHER:
Uh...sure...when?
SARA (FILTER)
No time like the present. The car will
bring you.
HEATHER:
Now?
SARA (FILTER)
Just take a minute. You'll be glad you
did, I bet.
EXT. INTERNATIONAL OFFICES OF NEW LINE CINEMA - DAY
Heather exits the limo and starts in to a MODERN OFFICE
BUILDING with a SIGN reading NEW LINE CINEMA.
INT. OUTER OFFICE - NEW LINE CINEMA - DAY
A sprawling space with a maze of buff-colored file cases
defining dozens of work spaces populated by smart-looking
twenty-something people. Heather stops at the machined-steel
front desk. A RECEPTIONIST with dark purple lipstick and Doc
Martins peers up.
RECEPTIONIST:
Help you?
HEATHER:
I'm here to see Bob Shaye.
The receptionist checks her out causally.
RECEPTIONIST:
Was Bob expecting you?
VOICE (O.S.)
Heather!
Heather turns as SARA RISHER crosses to give her a maternal
hug.
SARA:
Bob's dying to see you.
WIDER. MOVING WITH THEM as Sara leads Heather farther back
into the place grabbing a young man by the elbow.
SARA (cont'd)
Heather this is Mike De Luca. Mike,
Heather Langenkamp, our little Nancy's
come back home!
MIKE DE LUCA:
Hey, I'm a fan! Great meeting you.
He ducks into someone else's office, giving a hi-five and
closing the door. Sara smiles at Heather.
SARA:
Can I get you something to drink?
HEATHER:
Coffee'd be nice.
SARA:
(to the nearest)
Sounds good. Kim, would you get Heather
and me a coffee? How you like it, Hon?
HEATHER:
Black's fine.
SARA:
Me too.
They've reached a huge stainless steel door. Sara raps twice
and pushes it open, gesturing Heather inside.
Heather finds herself in a bright post-industrial workspace.
There's an unadorned desk and behind, a Warhol of Freddy
times four. Double doors are thrown open to the terrace, and
out there, cordless telephone pressed to his ear, is BOB
SHAYE. He gives a wave and starts inside.
BOB:
(into phone)
Gotta go. Call me when you get to Milan.
And don't forget risotto con tarfutti.
Fantastico! Have fun.
He tosses it down and gives Heather a two-handed shake.
BOB (cont'd)
Great seeing you, Heather - how're
things?
HEATHER:
Fine. I don't have to ask how you're
doing.
He shrugs, admitting.
BOB:
So far so good. Maybe we can send a
little your way, too, if you're up for
it.
He gestures to an area of Italian leather and gleaming glass
and sits as the assistant brings coffee. There are two cups,
and he immediately drinks from one, watching her gulp hers,
then
BOB (cont'd)
I'll cut to the chase, Heather. You
interested in making the definitive
Nightmare with us?
Heather lowers her cup, taken off-guard.
HEATHER:
I thought you'd killed Freddy off.
BOB:
We did. Bad mistake. The fans are
clamoring for more. So, Evil never dies,
right?
(grins shakily)
Anyway, a while back we got a call from
Wes. He's got this idea. And who better
to resurrect Freddy than his creator?
HEATHER:
I thought he'd stopped doing horror.
BOB:
Believe it or not, he told me I hadn't
heard from him in ten years because he
hasn't had any good nightmare. They're
his inspiration. But now he's got a new
script in the works.
She notes Bob biting his thumbnail.
HEATHER:
Which means he's having nightmares again?
BOB:
HEATHER:
The nightmares.
BOB:
He's excited about the script. You
should be too. It stars you.
HEATHER:
(reacts)
Can I read it?
BOB:
He's not showing it until it's down. But
it sounds hot, and we wanted to get all
our stars lined up in case it is. You
and Robert got great ratings today.
Which is the first thing we needed to
know.
HEATHER:
You mean that was a...
BOB:
Sort of a trial balloon.
Heather blinks.
HEATHER:
I don't know, Bob. I'm flattered and
all, but I've got a kid, now.
BOB:
So?
HEATHER:
So I don't know about horror.
BOB:
Come on. Kids love horror.
HEATHER:
And I...I've got other things happening.
BOB:
I'm sure we can match any offer.
She stands.
HEATHER:
It's not that. I've got a fan.
He gets up too.
BOB:
Sweetie, you've got lots of fans, we've
done market studies. You rate right up
there.
(puts arm around her, guides
her to door)
We've already got Chase working on a
prototype for the glove.
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