Setting: Basement editing room at the University of Wisconsin – Milwaukee. A large dimly lit room with tables of various shapes and sizes randomly placed throughout the room. Each table has a 16mm film viewer and editor of various brands and conditions. Used 30 gallon fiber drum containers are scattered across the room each filled with discarded 16mm film strips.
JEFF (O.S.): Weeks had passed, marked by lukewarm coffee, philosophical debates that circled like confused pigeons, and the persistent aroma of Marvin’s questionable snacks. The screenplay, a delicate ecosystem of neuroses and half-baked ideas, had somehow morphed into actual footage. Now, they found themselves in the dimly lit, slightly sticky confines of the college’s editing room.
(SFX: The low hum of editing equipment, the occasional click and whir)
DEBORAH: Okay, so I think if we cut from Bartholomew’s close-up – the one where he looks particularly burdened by the concept of eternal recurrence – directly to the shot of the overflowing ashtray…
CYNTHIA: (Without taking her eyes off her imaginary cigarette) It lacks a certain… despair. Maybe a slow zoom on a wilting houseplant? Symbolizing the decay of hope?
LEONARD: Or perhaps we intercut it with footage of rush hour traffic? The relentless, meaningless movement of the masses mirroring Bartholomew’s internal struggle against the tyranny of the aquarium.
STANLEY: (Gesturing dramatically) No, no, no! We need visual dynamism! What about a montage? Quick cuts! Bartholomew staring intensely, then a nuclear explosion (stock footage, of course), then a baby crying, then a close-up of a melting ice cream cone! It’ll be… Eisensteinian!
MARVIN: (Rummaging through a large, overflowing trash can filled with discarded strips of 16mm film) Has anyone seen the footage of the pigeon eating that discarded hot dog? I think it might… resonate.
DEBORAH: Marvin, we’re trying to establish Bartholomew’s profound intellectual crisis, not the culinary habits of urban wildlife.
MARVIN: But there’s a certain… existential dread in that pigeon’s relentless pursuit of processed meat. The futility of its desires mirroring… well, you know.
LEONARD: He might have a point. The base urges of the physical world juxtaposed with the lofty aspirations of the… ichthyoid intellect.
STANLEY: Absolutely not! We’re not making a documentary about vermin! This is about a Nietzschean goldfish! Think big! Think… Fellini, but with scales!
CYNTHIA: Fellini was depressing. At least the pigeon has a hot dog. A fleeting moment of greasy satisfaction in an otherwise bleak existence.
MARVIN: (Pulling out a tangled strip of film) Aha! Here it is. Look at the raw hunger in its beady little eyes. The sheer, unadulterated need.
(SFX: The whirring sound of film being pulled)
DEBORAH: Marvin, what else is in that trash can? Please tell me you’re not planning on incorporating outtakes of Stanley tripping over the microphone.
MARVIN: (Holding up another strip) Oh, this is interesting. It looks like… Mrs. Henderson’s cat chasing a wind up toy mouse. Remember that B-roll we shot for… I can’t even recall what scene.
LEONARD: The scene where the protagonist briefly considers the seductive allure of feline domesticity before reaffirming his commitment to intellectual rigor? We cut it. It felt… tangential.
STANLEY: Tangential? It was an affront to the very core of our cinematic vision! A fluffy distraction from the weighty themes of free will and… and fish philosophy!
CYNTHIA: Maybe the cat represents the protagonist’s subconscious desire for simple pleasures, a respite from the burden of existential awareness. The wind up toy mouse is the fleeting, ultimately unattainable nature of happiness.
MARVIN: (Holding up yet another strip) And this! This appears to be… static. Just pure, unadulterated visual noise.
DEBORAH: That was when the camera jammed. We lost a good ten minutes of Leonard’s intensely brooding close-up.
LEONARD: (Sighs dramatically) Perhaps it was a sign. The universe itself protesting against my attempts to convey the ineffable through the limitations of celluloid.
STANLEY: We can use the static! It represents the void! The terrifying nothingness that underlies all existence! We’ll call it… ‘Ode to the Abyss’!
CYNTHIA: Or maybe it just means someone forgot to check the film gate.
MARVIN: (Squinting at a particularly crumpled piece of film) Wait a minute… What’s this? It looks like… a close-up of an exploding bagel.
(SFX: A faint, crackly sound, like old film running through a projector)
DEBORAH: Oh, god. We filmed that? I thought we agreed that was a… a metaphor gone awry.
LEONARD: But the sheer randomness of it! The unexpected eruption of breakfast pastry! It’s almost… Beckettian!
STANLEY: We have to use it! It’s the perfect punctuation mark for Bartholomew’s descent into nihilistic despair! The bagel explodes, mirroring the shattering of his belief in… in fishy metaphysics!
CYNTHIA: It’s just an exploding bagel, Stanley. Maybe it just got too hot.
MARVIN: (Smiling faintly) You know, for a brief, chaotic moment, that bagel achieved a kind of… liberation. It transcended its bagel-ness.
DEBORAH: (Massaging her temples) We have to finish this film. We have a deadline. Can we please focus on the footage we intentionally shot?
LEONARD: But perhaps the unintentional footage holds a deeper truth. The subconscious of our cinematic endeavor revealing itself through discarded frames and exploding carbohydrates.
STANLEY: We’ll call it… ‘Bagel Ex Machina’!
CYNTHIA: I need another imaginary cigarette. This is giving me a real headache.
MARVIN: (Holding up the pigeon footage again) Just think about it. The pigeon. The bagel. Both striving, in their own way, for… something.
JEFF (O.S.): And so, amidst the discarded remnants of their artistic ambitions and the lingering scent of burnt sugar, they continued to tinker. The line between profound insight and utter nonsense blurred with each passing frame. The film, much like their collective sanity, hung precariously in the balance, a testament to the enduring power of existential angst and the surprising cinematic potential of breakfast gone wrong.
(SFX: The low hum of editing equipment continues, joined by a frustrated sigh from Deborah)
(SCENE END)
