Daily Micro: Yesterday’s Artists in Today’s World ~ Alfred Hitchcock

Acknowledging Alfred (Hitchcock)

INT. JEFF’S BARN – MEDIUM SHOT – NIGHT

Nubian goats in stalls, paw the floors. Milking stands against a wall. A raw milk dairy!

CLOSE ON

Jeff scrunches his wheelchair – stop and go – motor failing – through the barn, scrapes the sides of his wheelchair as he enters an adjacent room.

INT. STORAGE ROOM – MEDIUM SHOT – NIGHT

Cans of food stacked against a wall. Several freezers. An attached greenhouse, an indoor garden. Tomato plants, squash, watermelon. Preparation. A sense of foreboding.  Goats bleating.

JEFF’S POV THROUGH THE REAR WINDOW

Searchlights scanning a few acres, a few pens and loafing sheds, a small farm, etch slivers of light through the storage room, through the roof. SOUNDS of helicopters, RUMBLING vehicles.

INT. STORAGE ROOM – CLOSE SHOT – NIGHT

Jeff nervously watching, waiting. Reaches for his for his cell phone. Battery DEAD. Looks for a weapon. Gun case EMPTY. Disarmed. When the door SQUEAKS, he turns.

INT. STORAGE ROOM – MEDIUM SHOT – NIGHT

Slivers of light through the door disappear. Black. The RAID!

INT. STORAGE ROOM – CLOSE SHOT – NIGHT

Jeff squints at the door, blinks, squints again. LOTS of FOOTSTEPS. Forces marshalling.

INT. STORAGE ROOM – MEDIUM SHOT – NIGHT

Against the door, SOUNDS of crazed BREATHING. SOUNDS of FOOTSTEPS on the roof.

INT. STORAGE ROOM – SEMI-CLOSE SHOT – NIGHT

He scrounges for a weapon, any weapon. In a frenzy, holds up a few tomatoes, a zucchini. Helpless. Maneuvers his wheelchair farther into the shadows.  Motor spurts, dies. Eyes glued to the door, he scarcely breathes.

INT. STORAGE ROOM – MEDIUM SHOT – NIGHT

FOCUS ON

The door. Swings open slowly, someone from the dark enters, closes the door purposefully, thumps forward. From the darkness, a heavy voice. A threatening voice.

THORWALD

Raw milk!

Jeff pulls back. Thorwald, imposing, wide-bodied, huge and explosive. A Fed.

THORWALD

You can’t grow food! You can’t store food. Terrorist!

Percussion bombs SHAKE the barn. CRASHING timbers. SWAT Teams pour though the roof.

EXT. JEFF’S FARM – NIGHT

Goats scatter, race into the night. SOUNDS of machine gun fire. Barn goes up in FLAMES.

 

~ Stephen J. Bergstrom

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