Sunday, June 5, 2011

X-Men: First Class – Hearts In Xavier’s – Ryan K Lindsay

1. Cyclops (Scott/Slim), Angel (Warren), Beast (Hank), and Iceman (Bobby) sit around a table playing Hearts (the card game). They are all young, all wearing some quality 60s fashion. Cyclops obviously has the shades on, Beast isn’t hairy, and Bobby and Warren look the usual, Warren’s wings hang behind him. They are on old folding chairs with a small card table between them in the hallway between Iceman’s dorm room and Angel’s across the hall. Bobby is mock yelling at Hank and Warren and Scott are talking to the other side.
Bobby: C’mon, Hank, if you’re counting cards again I’m going to give those massive toes frostbite.
Hank: Robert, you’ll find you can’t rush perfection and if you try it grabs you by the throat with its “massive toes”.
Scott: You ever feel like Xavier brought us in to corral these children?
Warren: Maybe they just needed some positive role models? Keep them off the streets.

2. Bobby lays down an Ace of Clubs on top of Hank’s King of Clubs.

Bobby: Nerds, enough with the chatter, I take a nickel a point seriously.
Bobby (wh): You see me, McCoy? I’m seriously taking all your lunch money.

3. Bobby is starting the next round with the Seven of Spades and Scott is dropping the Five of Spades on top.
Scott: Don’t forget we are here to train, Bobby, not play.
Bobby: Whattaya gonna do, Slim? We’re teens, not Xavier’s personal kill squad. I’m here to have fun and so I say we get busy hunting the lady in the pack.

4. Marvel Girl (Jean) walks past the table, aloof, sensual, all eyes are on her, over cards, between them. Scott plays it the most casually.
Jean: You boys hear about the Bogart double bill playing down at the Claremont?
Bobby: No, I couldn’t hear it over the sound of me winning.

5. Scott looks at Warren who is perceptibly nodding behind his hand.

NO COPY


6. Scott stands up as he stuffs his cards in Warren’s wing. Bobby is clearly, but silently, unimpressed. Hank merely smiles. Warren is playing a card on the pile.
Scott: Y’know, my lacrosse team called me the Kniphausen Hawk in high school.

7. Scott and Jean are down the end of the corridor. Hank is laying a King of Hearts on the stack of cards.
Hank: I believe Hearts are broken.

7 comments:

  1. I really really like this one.

    More than anything I love the dialogue on it. Very impressed.

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  2. Why do I have to go after Ryan? Anyone want to swap?

    Brilliant. Nail. Head. You.

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  3. I'd be willing to swap with you if you're really interested in it, Ben. :-P

    As it so happens, I just managed to get my new page done, too.

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  4. Ryan, some fantastic dialogue work here. The back and forth repartee between all of the characters is top notch. Reads incredibly naturally. The last line makes for some quality foreshadowing.

    See also: the "Kniphausen Hawk" reference is incredibly obscure (in my mind) and goes a long way to show how nerdy / awkward Scott can be.

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  5. Thanks, guys. Glad to see this one struck a chord. I was pretty happy with it, had to do something to wash the taint of my Zatanna script off.

    I'm now wondering if anyone gets where I lifted most of this from...I think Rol should have a good chance at spotting the source.

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  6. Oh, and did anyone else see Comics Should Be Good, over at CBR, spotlit our little community here: http://goodcomics.comicbookresources.com/2011/06/01/a-month-of-comic-book-sites-thoughtballoons/

    Nice words all round and I think we've got some new commenters/PAHs because of it. Very welcome.

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  7. Yeah, I love the dialogue and character work here, Ryan - both reminscent of the Stan Lee days and the good-natured bickering of early / pre-misery Claremont. You gave away your source in the title, of course... we used to play computer Hearts in our office many years ago and that book - and this script - reminded me of those good old days.

    The only line that didn't entirely fit was "Xavier's personal kill squad"... since I don't think 60s Prof X ever intended to train his X-Men as soldiers, and certainly not killers.

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