The Crow

FADE IN:

EXT. CEMETERY - LATE

AFTERNOON:

BOOM! A crack of lightning illuminates the silhouette of a

perched crow large in the f.g.

TIGHT ANGLE - FRESH GRAVE

As a spade

smooths the walls of a new double-decker plot.

DIMITRI (O.S.)

We're losing the light; let's pack it in.

ANGLE - DIMITRI AND ALEXI TWO GRAVEDIGGERS.

Scoop digger parked f.g. towering gothic-style

church b.g. Rolls of astro turf. They look up toward the sky.

ALEXI:

Snow, maybe?

DIMITRI:

What, you gonna ski on this?

He indicates the mound

of fresh dirt. Spits into the grave.

DIMITRI (CONT'D)

Come on, let's bag this. It's

beer time.

Alexi nods and unfurls the tarp over the

dirt.

LOW ANGLE TRACKING SHOT - FLOWERS ON GRAVES

As we MOVE alongside

a pair of canvas-sided combat boots, as the

wearer collects the most

lively flowers from each grave in

sequence.

TIGHT ANGLE - THE CROW

Cemetery DEFOCUSED b.g. Large, glossy-black, the bird follows

the arc of

movement in the previous shot. Ruffles its feathers

as it begins to

sprinkle rain.

ANGLE - ELLY - RESUMING HER MOTION

A dirty-blondish

tenement KID of eleven, clad in a blend of cast-

offs and hand-me-downs;

her version of street punk chic. She

totes a skateboard under one arm

(itself a berserk Jackson

Pollock chaos of band stickers, silver marker

and graffiti, with

day-glo wheels), and transfers her impromptu bouquet

so she may

unzip a flap and hike up a ragged hood against the rain. She

stops to watch the grave diggers pack up and EXIT b.g.

ELLY:

Guess the

picnic got rained out.

She looks down o.s. at --

ANGLE - SHELLY

WEBSTER'S GRAVE

as Elly places the gathered flowers down. Almost

reverent.

RESUME CROW ANGLE - ELLY B.G.

as Elly takes a single white

rose and places it atop the grave

near Shelly Webster's.

ANGLE ON GRAVE:

- AS ELLY LEAVES

TILT UP from rose to the name: ERIC DRAVEN. Rain

spatters the

granite, darkening it.

EXTREME CLOSE-UP - CROW's EYE

It

blinks in its alien way.

WITH THE CROW:

as it takes wing from it's

unseen perch. Lands stop Eric's

headstone. It pecks tentatively at the

top of the monument.

ANGLE - ELLY NEAR ERIC'S GRAVE

She hasn't gotten

too far before she notices the bird.

ELLY:

Oh, scary.

The bird blinks

at her from the headstone.

ELLY:

What are you, like, the night

watchman?

Another blink from El Birdo.

CAMERA WITH ELLY - BOOMING BACK

HIGH:

as she exits the iron gates of the cemetery without looking

back.

Brutal building facades, like dead eyes, and bad

alleyways, like hungry

mouths, are gradually revealed as we

continue PULLING BACK to unveil that

the cemetery is smack in

the middle of the city.

EXT. MAXI-DOGS -

TWILIGHT - RAIN CONTINUES

CLOSE-UP of a foot-long hot dog being drowned

in mustard.

MICKEY (O.S.)

What this place needs is a good

natural

catastrophe. Earthquake,

tornado...

ANGLE - ALBRECHT AND MICKEY

ALBRECHT is a black beat cop, 35, in a rain slicker.

MICKEY is the

grease-aproned entrepreneur of MAXI DOGS, a steamy

open-front fast

foodery.

ALBRECHT:

You gotta put the mustard

underneath first.

MICKEY:

Maybe a flood, like in the Bible.

ALBRECHT:

Here, let me do

it.

He grabs the dog from Mickey. Mickey puffs his cigar while he

cooks. Albrecht methodically spreads a napkin and performs

surgery on

the hot dog, coating the bun with mustard, rolling

the dog in the bun.

Flashes Mickey a "gimme" look.

ALBRECHT:

Come on... onion. Don't

cheap

out on me. Lotta onions.

MOVING ANGLE - AS ELLY SKATEBOARDS

TOWARDS MAXI DOGS

MICKEY:

Heyyy -- it's the Elly monster.

ALBRECHT:

How do you ride that thing on a

wet street?

ELLY:

Talent. Hi.

ALBRECHT:

Care for a hot dog?

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