Whiplash Page #13

FLETCHER (CONT’D)

Don’t stop!!

Pink (9/10/2013)

65

Andrew doesn’t stop. Manages to glare forward, with what

almost seems like hatred in his tired, blood-shot eyes...

FLETCHER (CONT’D)

Faster!... Faster!!

(Andrew speeds up)

Do it! Do it! Do it! Do it! Do it! Do it!

One! One! One! One! One! One! One! One!

Andrew slips, almost loses the beat. Fletcher GRABS the FLOOR

TOM DRUM and HURLS it through the air, against the nearest

wall. It RAMS into the concrete, handles buckling. But Andrew

stays focused. Doesn’t cry.

FLETCHER (CONT’D)

KEEP PLAYING!!

Andrew does. Fletcher raises the COWBELL now, about to STRIKE

Andrew across the head, looks like a f***ing madman -- but

still Andrew does not cry -- as Fletcher BELLOWS-

FLETCHER (CONT’D)

KEEP PLAYING!!!

Andrew keeps playing.

Fletcher stands still. Stares at him. Circles the drum set

like a predatory beast, ready to strike at any instant.

Then -- he steps back. Drops the cowbell and stick. Andrew is

still playing, going like an automaton. No tears. Finally,

Fletcher silently raises his hand, and, with just a slight

wave, gestures for Andrew to stop.

Andrew does. Nearly collapses over the set.

FLETCHER (CONT’D)

Congratulations, Neiman. You earned the part.

He turns to the rest of the band.

FLETCHER (CONT’D)

Ok. Now we can begin.

The clock:
2:00.

EXT. GEHRING HALL - SIDE DOOR - NIGHT

62 62

It’s 3:
30am. The PLAYERS stagger out of the building. Zombies.

Andrew appears, red-eyed, past exhaustion. Fletcher emerges last.

Pink (9/10/2013)

66

FLETCHER:

5pm call tomorrow. Leave at least two

hours from New York this time. Save your

travel receipts. Or don’t, I don’t give a

f***.

He then walks off. Andrew watches him leave. And, as we zero in

on Andrew’s eyes...

...we see that something fundamental has changed.

He looks like a completely different person now. 100% hollowed

out.

BUS DRIVER (PRE-LAP)

Next stop Dunellen. Two hours.

63 OMITTED 63

64 INT. ROAD TO DUNELLEN - GREYHOUND BUS - DAY 64

We’re on a Greyhound, packed. Another VOICE in the back...

ANDREW:

Bop-ba-d-d-da-bop... Bada-bop-bop-bop...

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It’s Andrew. Hunched over sheet music, earphones on, counting

aloud through “CARAVAN”. And, by his side -- a Zip-lock bag of

PILLS. Just like the ones we saw exchanged at the party outside

his dorm...

PASSENGERS look at him. Who is this lunatic...?

ANDREW (CONT’D)

Bop-bada-bop... Ba-da-bop-ba-d-d-d-da-bop...

And suddenly --A JOLT. The bus ROCKS to the side, lights go

out, the wheels SCREECH to an abrupt stop. Andrew removes his

earphones.

65 EXT. ROAD TO DUNELLEN - GREYHOUND BUS - DAY 65

The side of the road. Andrew and the other PASSENGERS stand

outside, waiting, the BUS’s right tire blown, a rod lodged

into its side. Andrew checks his phone for the time. F***...

66 EXT. DUNELLEN - BUS STOP - DAY 66

A nondescript Jersey town. A NEW BUS comes to a stop, setting

down passengers on Dunellen’s Main Street. Andrew bolts off,

carrying his stick bag and music folder. Looks around.

Perplexed. Grabs a PASSERBY-

ANDREW PASSERBY:

Do you know where all the No, you gotta call the

cabs are? They said there cabs. Takes half an hour

were cabs here, that’s what notice.

I--

ANDREW PASSERBY:

What? Well is there a --They got a car rental down

another bus or--on Pine.

ANDREW:

Which way??

The Passerby points -- and Andrew starts RUNNING.

67 EXT. CAR RENTAL AGENCY - MOMENTS LATER 67

Five blocks later -- Andrew dashes across a patch of grass,

reaches a door, grabs the handle. The door won’t open. He goes

white. Sees the HOURS sign. Eyes scroll down. Starts POUNDING-

Pink (9/10/2013) 668

ANDREW:

You’re still open! You’re still open!

A MAN appears. Gestures for Andrew to calm down. Opens up.

68 INT. CAR RENTAL AGENCY - MOMENTS LATER 68

Andrew finishes signing paperwork. Grabs his MUSIC FOLDER and

BACKPACK from the nearest chair, hurries off. WE DRIFT back...

...to the STICK BAG left on the chair.

69 EXT/INT. CAR RENTAL AGENCY - RENTAL CAR - MOMENTS LATER 69

Andrew RUNS like mad across a small LOT. Reaches a CAR, opens

up and jumps in. Plugs an address into the GPS. The estimated

time:
9 minutes. The clock: 3:02... He floors it.

69A INT. DUNELLEN STREET - RENTAL CAR - CONTINUOUS 69A

Andrew drives fast. His cell rings--

ANDREW:

Hello??

PIANIST (O.S.)

Neiman, where the f*** are you? Call-time

was 5.

ANDREW:

I’m sorry -- I’m on my way. I’m almost-

PIANIST (O.S.)ANDREW

We’re on stage in twenty-- I know, I’m almost ther-

PIANIST (O.S.)

--and Fletcher’s got Connolly warming up

in case you don’t show.

ANDREW:

God-f***ing-damnit, I SAID I was on my

way, you tell the redhead I’m ON MY

F***ING WAY!!

He throws the phone against his seat.

69B EXT. DUNELLEN AUDITORIUM - MOMENTS LATER 69B

Andrew pulls up.

Pink (9/10/2013)

69

INT. DUNELLEN AUDITORIUM - GREEN ROOM - DAY

70 70

Andrew arrives, panting. Fletcher glares, the band behind him-

FLETCHER:

Glad you could work us into your

schedule, darling.

ANDREW:

I’m here. I’m ready to play.

FLETCHER:

Too late. Connolly’s playing.

Andrew looks over to his left -- to Ryan.

ANDREW:

Like f***ing hell he is.

Fletcher looks at him. Stunned. The PLAYERS also look shocked.

FLETCHER:

Come again?

ANDREW:

It’s my part.

FLETCHER:

Actually it’s my part. I decide who I

lend it to.

ANDREW:

I have the folder-

FLETCHER:

I see the folder for a change, but I

don’t see the sticks.

Andrew is about to counter -- when he looks down. Looks back.

Thinks. Realizes... Skin paling, his heart racing...

ANDREW:

They’re -- they’re in the car, I just

have to grab them-

FLETCHER:

Nope. I’m warming the band up now.

ANDREW:

I’ll use Ryan’s sticks.

FLETCHER:

You lost the part, Neiman.

Pink (9/10/2013)

70

ANDREW:

No I didn’t!! You can’t do this!

FLETCHER:

I CAN’T?!?

He marches toward Andrew. Looms over him, seems about to hit him.

FLETCHER (CONT’D)

When did you become an authority on what I

can or cannot do you weepy-willow shitsack?

ANDREW:

When I earned that part.

FLETCHER:

Earned? You’ve never earned a thing. The

only reason you’re a f***ing core is

because you misplaced a folder. The only

reason you’re in Studio Band is because I

told you what I’d be asking for in Nassau.

ANDREW:

Bullshit. I’m in Studio Band because--

RYAN:

Why don’t you back off, bro?

ANDREW:

F*** you, Johnny Utah. Turn my pages.

FLETCHER:

You realize I can cut you anytime I feel.

ANDREW:

You would’ve cut me by now.

FLETCHER:

Try me you weasel. At 5:30, that’s in

eleven minutes, my band is on-stage. You’re

not there with your own sticks, or you show

up and make a single mistake --a single

one -- and I’ll send you back to Nassau

Band to turn pages until you graduate or

drop out. For extra kicks, I’ll spread the

word on just how you became a Studio Band

core, and by the time my sewing circle is

done you’ll make your dad look like a

success story.

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