Manhattan Nocturne
- Year:
- 2016
- 32 Views
I sell mayhem,
scandal, murder, and doom.
Oh, Jesus, I do.
I sell the newborn
and the dead.
I sell the wretched,
magnificent city of New York
back to its people.
I sell newspapers.
Thanks for your time.
Yeah?
Porter. I got
a shooting, plus a fire.
- Mm. Any bodies?
- At least two,
projects on Avenue d.
Paul said something
about a kid.
I'm on it. I'm on it.
Thanks.
I'm always
running to the place
where the bad thing
just happened,
arriving just after
the danger has passed,
watching from a safe distance,
searching for an angle,
that little wrinkle, the kick
want to put down the dollar
and pick up the paper.
With three deadlines a week,
I'm always looking
for a good story.
I seen the smoke.
And I'm looking up there.
And that's when Demetrius,
he come jumping
through that window.
And he on fire,
burning like all over.
And Demetrius,
he fall, fall, and fall.
I can see he gonna land
on top of the baby.
And then just before
Demetrius land,
he do this little
kind of flip.
And he landed on his back.
And he holding the baby up,
like...
And I can see that
he do that on purpose.
What did you do?
I run over and
i pick up Vernon here.
And I see Demetrius.
He just not gonna make it,
because he landed
on his back like that.
Hey, little man.
I'm sorry that happened to you
and your daddy. You okay?
No, no, no,
he don't talk yet.
Fall, fall, fall.
Thanks for your time.
Hey, you're the one that helped
them find that little girl?
I write a column
for a daily newspaper.
In other words,
I'm an endangered species.
I used to think my stories
could make a difference.
Now I just hope they are
enough to feed my family.
These days, eight million kids
have iPhones
and post their videos
on YouTube
like they're actually reporting
and commenting on something.
Eh. My wife says I sound old.
I'm heading
into a long one, so you'll
probably get home before me.
Josephine needs to get paid.
And please remember to scrub
the pots and pans.
You keep leaving them for me.
Yeah, well, they
have to soak overnight.
Oh, yeah?
- Yeah.
- - Really?
Is that what
your mother told you?
Well, look, I got to go, baby.
- Wait, Porter.
- What?
Did you remember your tuxedo?
Yeah, but I don't want to go.
Everyone's going to be
sucking up to hobbs, uh--
you know, if they're
your column, you better go.
I know you are a watcher,
Mr. wren, but it is rude
to stare.
I'm sorry. I was just
trying to figure out
where I knew you from.
I see you
recognize me, though.
From your
cheesy picture.
The one that
goes with my column.
Your smug expression
is annoying.
It was, uh,
taken last year,
in the waning moments
of my youth.
Right before they retired
the film camera?
- Wow.
- - Sorry.
the newspaper anymore?
Well, I have a few fans
of the print edition.
I'm told they
Twitter at me.
I think they Twitter
about how awesome it is,
the feel of the paper,
the smell of the ink.
Hashtag-well-written-column.
Well...
I do like
the feel of the paper.
And your column, Mr. wren,
is always very well written,
in an old-time,
classic kind of way.
- Well...
- I do wonder, though.
It must be depressing for you to
be in all those places
has happened.
You must have seen
so many awful things.
I've seen a few things.
People seem
to open up to you.
You must have a skill for
asking the right questions.
Usually people want
to tell somebody,
and I'm just there
at the right time.
Come on.
You're being modest.
What brings you
to the party?
My boyfriend,
Charlie's bank,
does some kind of business
with the company
that I guess just
bought your paper.
You all work for
hobbs now, I guess.
"All" meaning mankind?
Yes.
You grateful you landed
a job that pays you
to stare at people?
Look...
I deal with bullshitters
all day.
But I'm on my own time here,
so, if this is all
going somewhere,
get to it already.
Well, it's complicated.
It takes some time to explain.
Oh.
Could we leave right now
and go back to my apartment?
It's only 15 blocks from here.
Charlie wouldn't be coming.
Is this about your
husband's death?
Porter wren, is it?
- Yes.
- You must come and have
a word with Mr. hobbs.
He's quite eager to meet you.
Excuse me.
This is Porter wren,
the investigative reporter
who found the girl.
Excuse me, Mr. hobbs?
Uh, Mr. Porter wren, sir,
famed investigative reporter
who now writes the column.
Really?
Yeah?
I really think this
could happen.
I think it's very prudent.
- every single--
- mm-hmm.
Wonderful.
The invitation still stands?
Yes.
Come in.
I want to show you this.
Okay, this is what
we're talking about.
This is where we start.
- This is where we start?
- Yes.
- Another drink?
- Why not?
To help you through
the gates of hell.
This is a police report.
It's a bit stingy
with the tonic and ice.
Well, I want you drunk,
so I can tell whether
you are a lout or not.
You know you can
get in a lot of trouble for
having these files?
Detectives don't even let other
cops see these things.
I know that.
Okay. So, Simon crowley
demolished building.
Surrounding the body were
small pieces of Jade.
Police have no idea
how he got in there,
given the high fence with wire,
nor can they determine the cause
the bulldozers
and the rats. You can say it.
I've read the report
17 times.
I'm sorry.
"The world-famous
filmmaker appears incapable of
smiling."
Clearly.
"Several hours into
the interview,
I came to realize
that Simon crowley..."
Thank you.
"...is not a nice person,
particularly,
and he doesn't
care if you know it.
In his pursuit of great movies,
woman upon woman,
and cigarettes,
in that order,
niceness is irrelevant."
Mixed review.
- Is that best director?
- Best original screenplay.
Apparently it's what they give
you when they want to give you
best director but they can't.
how he got in there.
The place was all locked up and
he didn't have a key on him.
What's the story
with the pieces of Jade?
No idea.
Whew.
Could I have my coat, please?
I hope you don't feel like I've
wasted your time.
Here's my number.
When the gate shuts,
my work and the city
remain on the other side
of the wall that surrounds
our hidden home.
Lisa and I fell in love
with this house
when we were first married.
There's something about it
surviving hundreds of years,
like a secret.
It kept me honest.
Anywhere else, this house
should be mundane.
But in Manhattan,
it was a miracle.
My family slept inside,
safe from the dangers
of these dark streets,
secluded too from the world
of Caroline crowley
and her famous dead husband,
who could not enter
this secret place,
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"Manhattan Nocturne" Scripts.com. STANDS4 LLC, 2024. Web. 13 Dec. 2024. <https://www.scripts.com/script/manhattan_nocturne_13315>.
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