The gideon trilogy adaptation as a narrative tool in creative practice: reflections on the nature of adaptation and a comparison
APPENDICES Appendix 1: Extracts from Billy Elliot
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APPENDICESAppendix 1: Extracts from Billy ElliotExtract unavailable in electronic copy of thesis. Appendix 2: Extract from screenplay of The Tar ManInt. St paul's cathedral. late afternoon DR ANITA PIRRETTI is standing directly beneath the great dome. It is so high it seems to fade into the mists. Sunshine illuminates the upper part of the dome. CUT TO: Ext. Ludgate circus. Late afternoon THE TAR MAN picks his way through commuters on their way home. This is a man used to walking - he strides along. He wears 21st- century casual dress with the exception of his shoes which are black, buckled and of the 18th-century variety. His hair is slicked back in a greasy pony tail and his scar is painfully visible. It's cold and his breath comes out as steam. The street is in deep shadow but, rising up in front of him, St Paul's Cathedral is sunlit and magnificent. As he looks up he smiles at the familiar edifice as if it were an old friend. CUT TO:
InT. sT PAUL'S CATHEDRAL. late afternoon. THE TAR MAN walks through the echoing cathedral past an ACADEMIC AMERICAN COUPLE who have stopped in front of a white marble statue. It depicts a powerfully built elderly man in a toga. He has a broad, noble brow and chiselled muscles. Academic woman (Excited) Hey. What do you know - Samuel Johnson. Academic man (Amused) Cute toga! The couple linger for a moment and then move on. The Tar Man walks up close and inspects the statue. He laughs heartily. THE TAR MAN (Addressing the statue) Ha! 'Tis well they remembered your way with words, and not your way with fashion - or they should not dare display you in such fine company... The Tar Man moves on, his attention not on the cathedral but on the tourists milling around. His gaze lingers on a RICH ELDERLY LADY. CLOSE IN on her pearl earrings and the ruby and emerald rings on her fingers. She carries an elegant handbag. The Tar Man follows her, taking note of the blue-uniformed guards as he goes along. CUT TO:
InT. sT PAUL'S CATHEDRAL. late afternoon. DR PIRRETTI shows her ticket to a guard and enters a gloomy stairwell labelled "To the Galleries". It is a broad, spiral staircase made of wood with shallow steps. Many people are walking up and down. She starts off quickly but soon becomes breathless and slows down. Some CHILDREN run down, four steps at a time, alarming the people climbing up. CHILD (Breathless, beaming) It's quicker coming down! Halfway up Dr Pirretti passes the RICH ELDERLY LADY who is sitting, recovering from the climb, on one of stone benches in an alcove. She smiles at her. Dr pirretti (To the rich elderly lady, panting. She has a Californian accent) This better be worth it. Rich elderly lady (Strong Italian accent) Believe me, it is. I always come here. So beautiful. And you must listen to the whispers. You will be astonished. DR PIRRETTI (Smiling) I will - if my heart doesn't give out first. Oh, you're a child. Enjoy! Dr Pirretti continues up the wooden stairs. CUT TO:
Int. Whispering gallery, st paul's. Late afternoon. Stone benches encircle the Whispering Gallery. The magnificent dome towers above, rays of sunshine penetrating the inner dome at its summit. Far below is the cathedral floor. There are perhaps twenty tourists scattered around the Whispering Gallery. DR PIRRETTI is breathless and sits down to get her breath back. She leans her head against the wall and focuses on the inner dome, so far away it appears almost misty. CLOSE IN on Dr Pirretti's eyes. Now she closes her eyes. We become aware of the strange, ethereal quality of the sounds she is hearing. They become louder. Dr Pirretti's eyelids crease as she tries to focus on each successive voice amidst the cacophony of voices... man's voice (Laughing but distorted, echoey) Can't you hear me? A Mother's voice (Clearly to a child. Unnaturally
Why must you always do that? American student (Sarcastic tone, volume wavers) Well that would explain a lot. Her father owned the airline. Many voices speak. Sounds and calls and fragments of sentences rise and fall and disappear into the vibrating column of air. A ghostly, unsettling, soundscape. Dr Pirretti’s face is no longer calm. Suddenly the echo of a voice resounds next to her. A man's voice (Somehow near and far at the same time) Joyce! Look at me. I'm waving. I know you can hear me. Dr Pirretti starts in surprise as she hears someone call out right next to her. JOYCE (Loud. Into the wall.) I can! Oh my goodness, you're as clear as anything! Dr Pirretti's eyes ping open and far away, on the opposite side of the dome, she sees a man waving. To her immediate right she sees the man's wife waving madly back. The soundscape grows louder and voices go in and out of focus, one second we hear unintelligible sounds, the next recognisable words. Suddenly Dr Pirretti sits up, an expression close to euphoria on face. Dr pIRRETTI (v/o)
I'm not ill. They're voices. Someone is trying to speak to me! A SCREAM reaches the Whispering Gallery from the spiral staircase. Torn from her reverie Dr Pirretti turns her head towards the doorway. THE TAR MAN walks nonchalantly out onto the gallery. He spots a second doorway beyond the spot where Dr Pirretti has chosen to sit and makes his way towards it. He tries to disguise the fact that he has been running up the stairs. A bead of sweat trickles down his cheek and he forces himself to take deep, slow breaths. Dr Pirretti is mesmerised by his buckled shoes. They are dusty and hand-sewn from soft leather. She looks up and their eyes meet. The Tar Man smiles at her and forgetting that he is not wearing his three-cornered hat, lifts up his hand to raise it. Realising his mistake he quickly inclines his head instead. Guarded but intrigued, Dr Pirretti nods in acknowledgement. As he walks past her she continues to stare at him and notices the scar snaking down his face. CUT TO: Int. Stairwell in st paul's cathedral. Day. Agitated voices rise up from halfway down the spiral staircase. DR PIRRETTI makes her way down. She sees a cluster of people blocking the stairway. A MALE GUARD is speaking on his walkie-talkie. As Dr Pirretti draws nearer she sees that a FEMALE GUARD is comforting the RICH ELDERLY WOMAN, who is sitting on a bench made of stone. She is hysterical; her hair is awry and she looks at her hands which are now devoid of rings. A couple of her finger joints are bleeding where the rings have been torn roughly off. The female guard dabs at them with a tissue. RICH ELDERLY LADY (Wailing, beside herself) My rings! Male guard Did he go up or down, love? RICH ELDERLY LADY I don't know...I... I think he went up... What monster would do such a thing in this holy place? Close in on Dr Pirretti who watches as the guard, followed by a small crowd of people push past her and run up the stairs. She passes a hand over her face. CUT TO:
Int. Stone gallery. late afternoon. THE TAR MAN arrives at the Stone Gallery. To his left is the exit onto the external viewing platform. He glimpses windswept tourists peering through the balustrades. To his right a guard's room. A guard is lounging on a chair. Through the half-open door we see a pair of black trousers and shiny black shoes. We hear something indecipherable on his walkie-talkie. All at once he springs up and heads towards the door. We hear the sound of several people running up the stairs still a little way off. The Tar Man looks wildly around him then leaps onto the Stone Gallery and pretends to look at the view. Behind him the guard stands at the top of the stairs. Guard (Shouting) I'll go up top. I'll bring everyone down and lock up as we go. Can you manage the Stone Gallery? MALE GUARD (Shouting, unseen, from below) Okay. We'll block off the exits. Directly behind The Tar Man there is the entrance to a narrow metal spiral staircase which leads to the top of the dome and the Golden Gallery, the highest viewing platform. The guard runs up the staircase, locking the door behind him. The Tar Man immediately dives across the corridor and into the guard's room just in time to avoid being seen by the reinforcements. He crawls underneath the table and pulls the chair in front of him. A man peeps his head around the door and gives a cursory look inside but does not spot him. The Tar Man stays stock still; breathes slow and easy. The Tar Man closes his eyes. Very gradually he starts to fade. The Tar Man is blurring. His eyes open and he looks at his hands. He is semi-transparent. CUT TO: Int. Stone gallery, st paul's cathedral. Dawn. The guard's office seems to melt away and he find himself in a bare stone room. The light has changed. It is dawn. The Tar Man looks around at his surroundings and at himself in wonder. At the periphery of his/our vision we can detect faint traces of the guard's room and hear shouting. GUARD
(Shouting but distorted and echoey) There's no one up here - A large smile forms on The Tar Man's face. ThE TAR MAN (In wonder) I have the secret! Like the children, I too, can fade. The Tar Man opens the heavy wooden door and steps out onto the Stone Gallery at the base of the dome and makes for the narrow wooden staircase that leads to the Golden Gallery at its summit. CUT TO:
Ext. Golden gallery, st. paul's cathedral. Dawn. A ghost from the future, The Tar Man looks out over the London of 1763 and steps out into the dawn. It is summer. In the distance are hills and green fields. Down below, in the city of London, is a thicket of church steeples. Smoke rises from chimneys. On the Thames, far, far below, boats and sailing ships glide over the river that sparkles in the morning sunshine. A seagull flies past, soaring in a current of air. Suddenly he thrusts his hand into his pocket, checking that the rings are still there. He bites into the metal and nods in satisfaction. Then he pulls out the old lady's handbag and roots around inside. Anything that is not of interest he throws over the balustrade. Only her purse is of interest. He pulls out some credit cards and looks at them. He is about to throw them away but changes his mind and slips them back. He puts the purse into his pocket and throws the handbag into the winds... As the handbag falls the landscape alters. Whilst St Paul's still dwarfs nearly everything, Canary Wharf and the Gherkin, the Post Office Tower, the Millennium Wheel now all appear to challenge it. The green hills vanish and London sprawls as far as the eye can see...Church steeples disappear or are camouflaged behind office blocks... He is alone on the Golden Gallery. He raises up his hands to the skies and looks out over the great city. THE TAR MAN (Triumphant) Never will I be brought low again. Now shall I make my mark on the world and no man will know how to stop me.
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