1 EXT. LAFAYETTE CEMETERY (NEW ORLEANS) - NIGHT 1
An empty breeze blows across a deserted cemetery. We
hear the sound of FOOTSTEPS APPROACHING, then nineteenth-
century boots ENTER FRAME. We FOLLOW them strolling pastthe headstones and mausoleums. The sound of a HORSE and
CARRIAGE ECHOES in the distance.
There comes a time for every vampirewhen the idea of eternity becomesmomentarily unbearable...
As we REACH an old stone tomb, the boots leap up and OUTOF FRAME. PAN UP to reveal:
A FIGURE stands steadily atop the roof of the tomb,
silhouetted against the moon like a large, black bird.
The wounds suffered from love and
failed friendships don't heal likea human's, but seem to only gapelarger. The longing to be mortalreturns, a longing for finiteness.
A beat as the indistinct figure gazes out at the night...
4 EXT. TOMB - CONTINUOUS ACTION 4
The figure enters an alabaster tomb and closes the door.
In 1883 I suffered such a spelland decided to cease feeding onblood. Just lie in the earth and
let time return to its natural
As the WIND PICKS UP, the LEAVES of a fledgling vinegrowing up the side of the tomb begin to RATTLE FASTERand FASTER, until curiously, time seems to speed up.
Night passes to day and back to night. Shadows from the
sun and moon drift across the tomb. As days and monthsfly by, the vine winds and grows in circuitous patternsall around the tomb.
I had hoped the sounds of thepassing eras would fade out, and akind of death might happen. A
kind of forgetting where I wouldbe healed from my wounds.
The CLIP-CLOP of HORSES and the SQUEAK of PERAMBULATORS
DISSOLVE INTO the THUMP and SCRAPE of INDUSTRIAL ENGINES.
But as I lay there, the soundsdidn't fade but grew with theworld.
The BUZZ of PROP ENGINES MELT INTO the sound of a JET
STREAMING overhead. CARS, MACHINES, RADIO BROADCASTS
MERGE INTO a medley of MUSIC from this century -- JACKBENNY, MUDDY WATERS, ELVIS, HENDRIX, SEX PISTOLS.
And gradually the world didn'tsound like the place I had left,
but something different...
As we DRAW CLOSER TO the now vine-covered tomb, SOUNDS of
the '70s, '80s, '90s PERSIST...
A new fearless attitude had
possessed the world, brave andGodless. I began to wonder if itwas not time to resurrect. But
the thing that eventually broughtme back -- the decisive thingreally -- came like a bolt out ofthe blue.
GUITARS STRIKE, DRUMS CRACK and the MUSIC SLAMS OUT, raw
SERIES OF GLIMPSES
Slender hands with long, painted nails, Gothic rings, anda half-pound of silver bracelets play their instruments.
Long hair, body piercings, Celtic tattoos, and brightly- colorednylons show a lot of pale, smooth flesh. In the
confusion of glimpses, it's hard to tell who's a boy orgirl, but they're all young and beautiful. Breaking inon the CACOPHONY of MUSIC COMES ONE GUITAR CLOSER and
LOUDER than the rest.
A SCRAPING ROAR, like a bandsaw being twisted into themost gorgeous, powerful chords, almost religious in itsemotion.
A music so sublime, so deeplyvampiric, I had no doubt it couldbe heard in Hades. I had no
choice... it summoned me.
An ULTRA-FAST TECHNO BEAT BEGINS and the FULL-SOUND of a
BAND RUSHES in, creating a sense of vertigo with its
6 INT. TOMB 6
The BAND'S sounds ECHO about the stone chamber, thrumminga deep, life-giving pulse. Suddenly, the LID of aSARCOPHAGUS SCRAPES and slides to one side.