- 134 min
- 570 Views
INT. THE MADISON HOUSE - BEDROOM - DAY
In the blackness, a man, FRED, is sitting on a bed smoking a
cigarette. We see his back, but with each glow of the
cigarette ash, we see his face reflected in a mirror on the
wall across from him. In the darkness, there starts the sound
of a motor which draws curtains back across a large picture
window just off screen. As the curtain moves, hard-edged
light begins crawling across the room, and we see everything
clearly. Fred is wearing a robe and pajamas, it's early
CLOSE UP ON FRED'S FACE IN THE MIRROR - Blank expression -
face somewhat obscured or distorted by smoke from the
CLOSE UP ON FRED'S ACTUAL FACE - Unshaven, haggard look,
eyes seem empty, glazed over. Fred is 32 years old, with
THE DOORBELL RINGS. Fred looks up, startled by the noise.
He looks at the digital clock: 5:30 a.m.
FRED STANDS, goes to an INTERCOM on the wall next to the
mirror. He pushes a button.
A VOICE comes over the intercom.
VOICE OVER INTERCOM
Dick Laurent is dead.
Fred leaves the bedroom and goes through the house. He is on
the upstairs level. He looks through a narrow slot window,
but can't see the front door below. He goes further in the
house to a picture window that overlooks the street below.
There is NOBODY there.
We can see Fred standing at the picture window, looking out.
INT. THE MADISON HOUSE - LIVING ROOM - NIGHT
Fred is dressed to go out: Black sport coat and slacks,
buttoned up white shirt. He picks up a music case. A woman
comes into the room. This is Fred's wife, RENEE, 30 years
old, dark hair, dressed smartly, a drink in her hand.
You don't mind that I'm not coming
What are you going to do?
I thought I'd stay home and read.
Fred looks her over, she's sexy without trying.
Read?... Read what, Renee?
Renee sits down on a couch and sips her drink. Fred comes
over to her, kisses her on the neck, which makes her laugh.
It's nice to know I can still make
I like to laugh, Fred.
That's why I married you.
Wake me up when you get home.
Fred brushes her cheek with his fingers, allowing them to
linger for a moment on her face.Rate this script:0.0 / 0 votes
Translate and read this script in other languages:
Select another language:
- - Select -
- 简体中文 (Chinese - Simplified)
- 繁體中文 (Chinese - Traditional)
- Español (Spanish)
- Esperanto (Esperanto)
- 日本語 (Japanese)
- Português (Portuguese)
- Deutsch (German)
- العربية (Arabic)
- Français (French)
- Русский (Russian)
- ಕನ್ನಡ (Kannada)
- 한국어 (Korean)
- עברית (Hebrew)
- Gaeilge (Irish)
- Українська (Ukrainian)
- اردو (Urdu)
- Magyar (Hungarian)
- मानक हिन्दी (Hindi)
- Indonesia (Indonesian)
- Italiano (Italian)
- தமிழ் (Tamil)
- Türkçe (Turkish)
- తెలుగు (Telugu)
- ภาษาไทย (Thai)
- Tiếng Việt (Vietnamese)
- Čeština (Czech)
- Polski (Polish)
- Bahasa Indonesia (Indonesian)
- Românește (Romanian)
- Nederlands (Dutch)
- Ελληνικά (Greek)
- Latinum (Latin)
- Svenska (Swedish)
- Dansk (Danish)
- Suomi (Finnish)
- فارسی (Persian)
- ייִדיש (Yiddish)
- հայերեն (Armenian)
- Norsk (Norwegian)
- English (English)
Use the citation below to add this screenplay to your bibliography:
"Lost Highway" Scripts.com. STANDS4 LLC, 2023. Web. 9 Jun 2023. <https://www.scripts.com/script/lost_highway_454>.
Discuss this script with the community:
We're doing our best to make sure our content is useful, accurate and safe.
If by any chance you spot an inappropriate comment while navigating through our website please use this form to let us know, and we'll take care of it shortly.
You need to be logged in to favorite.