The Kings of Summer, Jordan Vogt-Roberts (2013)

Hace aproximadamente cinco años cogí una mochila y algunos dólares y me fui a pasar hambre por EEUU. Compré los billetes, quedé con una amiga de amigos en que nos acompañaríamos mutuamente y tomé uno de los últimos vuelos que aterrizaron en JFK justo antes de un huracán que paralizó Nueva York. Conservo muchos buenos recuerdos de este viaje: emoción al ver manuscritos reales de muchos de mis escritores de cabecera en la Biblioteca pública, suelas de zapatillas rotas, largas carreteras rodeadas de verde que atravesaban Vermont, el acento de Quebec, la prisa de la ciudad y la calma en el campo comiendo maíz asado después del desastre. Un día visitamos el MOMA. Yo caminaba un poco sobresaturada, había, lo reconozco, muchas obras que no entendía, pero sin pensar en nada me topé en una esquina desnuda con el cuadro de Andrew Wyeth “Christina’s World” y ahí me quedé para siempre. Creo que al director de fotografía de “The Kings of Summer le pasó lo mismo en su momento.

[Lights up to a group of people at tables in a restaurant.]

CARLA: Thank you everyone for joining us tonight for this special celebration dinner. We are all so busy during the year that it's nice to be able to relax and enjoy each other's company in a social setting. Even the new guy Craig came!

[CRAIG begins to rise a little and speak but is cut off immediately.]

As you know, we're also here to celebrate a tremendous year of growth for Mackey-Blonch Consulting. At this pace, we'll need to rent out the whole restaurant next year instead of just the Risotto Room! Speaking of which, quick thanks to the staff of Family & Sons for their hospitality. It wasn't our number one pick, but at least it's nicer on the inside than it looks from the street. While we dig into our mixed green salads, we'll have Rosemary tell us some more about our great year.

[CARLA sits and ROSEMARY stands.]

ROSEMARY: Hi everyone, I'm Rosemary from HR. I think I've worked with all of you by now except for Craig, who still owes me some paperwork, but like Carla said, we've grown like a weed this year! We added four new full-time positions, six new clients, and expanded our services with four existing clients. Bravo to everyone!

TREY: Nosie Rosie!!!

ROSEMARY: I don't like that name, thanks. OK, here is Marcelo with some special acknowledgments.

[ROSEMARY sits and MARCELO stands.]

MARCELO: OK, first of all we have to thank Trey, our Mad Maniac of Marketing, for his incredible overhaul on the Mackey-Blonch logo.

[MARCELO clicks to show the slide of the really ornate logo.]

The hawk with human hands and serpent head really sets us apart in the industry and conveys our sense of commitment and collaboration perfectly.

TREY: It's got one man hand and one woman hand so it's equal.

MARCELO: Thanks again to Rosemary's Baby...

ROSEMARY: Don't like that one either...

MARCELO: And Crabby Carla for setting up this great dinner. I smelled the manicotti in the lobby and it really seemed accurate.

[ROSEMARY whispers something to MARCELO.]

OK, it looks like we have a little bottleneck happening with the creamy garlic dressing down by Craig. Craig, you want to pass that westward so that we can all benefit? Family style meals require collaboration. Not unlike the Robles-Adrianopolous account, am I right? OK, next we have Kimberly to tell us about Sales.

[CRAIG sighs deeply, finds the dressing and passes it. MARCELO sits and KIMBERLY stands.]

KIMBERLY: Thanks. Well, this year Sales rolled out its new sales model. Although it's definitely different than what most of the industry is using, we think it's that exact risk that helped make this year so big for us. Here's a quick summary.

[KIMBERLY clicks to her first slide, which reads IMMEDIATE HIGH-FIVE (IH5) and two hands with arrows between them]

Immediate High-Five. We did away with networking, the endless cold calls, the lengthy introductions, the word "Hello". With the immediate high five approach, a sudden forward-leaning skin-slapping high-five lets the prospect know Mackey-Blonch is ready to do business.

[CARLA whispers something to KIMBERLY.]

OK, it looks like we're running a little behind schedule and we only have the room till nine-fifty, so I'll just buzz through the rest of the steps...

[KIMBERLY clicks through the rest of the slides and reads them quickly.]

Wild Smiling, the Radisson Hat Scramble, Gorge and Forge, and the Applauding Marauder. OK, before we eat our lemon-chicken thing with some kind of glazed carrot deal, let's hear from our real guests of honor. I think we can all agree these gentlemen have truly blazed the trail for this company. First, our CEO and co-founder, Lesley Alan Mackey.

[Wild applause. KIMBERLY sits and LESLEY begins speaking from his seat. He is kind of somber and reflective.]

LESLEY: Ah, thanks, Kimberly. To be honest, I didn't have anything prepared. I wanted tonight to be about you all, the people who work so hard everyday to make this company such a success. But...I ah...well, hearing from everyone has made it clear that it's time for a new level of transparency.

[He glances at CAL BLONCH, who somberly nods.]

Before Cal and I started this company seven years ago, we were in another kind of business together. The business of penitence.

[LESLEY rises and pulls his arm up, which pulls CAL up, because they are handcuffed together. Everyone gasps.]

LESLEY: You see, Cal and I spent some time in prison for two different but possibly related manslaughters. We busted out of a chain gang and spent nineteen days scavenging our way across Maricopa County. It was a hellscape I don't recall fondly. Well, Cal tells it best.

(Music starts.)

CAL: The first night, we slept astride the rotten bodies of ten slaughtered horses. We drank the water from their bloated innards and slept until dawn. We ate some baby turtles while the mama turtle watched. We captured a vulture and trained it to find us edible cactus flowers. We held a convenient store attendant hostage and forced him to drink milk until we wept. We burned down a farm and blinded three bloodhounds.

LESLEY: ...and eventually we made it into Mexico to start new lives as businessmen. I got a degree in consulting by using a dead man's ID that I found outside a funeral home, while Cal lied to dozens of people to build our remarkable clientele. Over time, every lie became real and the Mackey-Blonch name had penetrated the market forever. And, the rest is history.

[Everyone is stunned for a few beats.]

TREY: Why...ah, why didn't you take your handcuffs off?

LESLEY: Tired. Leverage issues. Too busy building an empire. You name it, Trey.

CARLA: I thought you were always just handing each other something.

MARCELO: Like a business card?

CARLA: Yeah, maybe a key. Or like a mint.

LESLEY: Thank you all for the chance to get this off of our chests. Now, let's get back to salad.

TREY: Craig, can you pass something please? Clockwise or counter, it doesn't matter at this point.

[Slow motion begains as CRAIG rises again and slightly gestures inside his blazer, and CAL immediately pulls out a gun with his free hand and shoots CRAIG dead in the chest. CRAIG slumps down in his seat. Everyone screams and freezes in terror and CAL reholsters his weapon and sits down.]

LESLEY: I understand that was shocking and gruesome. I'm afraid Craig was a hired killer seeking bloody retribution for our past mistakes. He has been tracking us since we emerged from the mouth of the Tallahassee river in Rancho Villego nigh on dusk eight years ago August. Just like in the world of consulting, we must face these challenges directly and without hesitation. Ah, I think our chicken is arriving presently.

ROSEMARY: Well...we should eat...quickly. There is still tiramisu scheduled.

TREY: Parsley, Sage, Rosemary, Always on Thyme!

ROSEMARY: I'm undone.

[Lights up to a split stage. GABE and MARY are talking on the phone on either side.]

GABE: (sings) PJ Cluckers, the chicken you love to eat. (DEB crows) PJ Cluckers, where the chicken is kickin’, can I help you?

MARY: Yeah, hi. I wanted to place an order but I’m having trouble figuring out the menu.

GABE: OK.

MARY: What...are Skinners?

GABE: Skinners are skinless tenders re-wrapped in leg skin and deep-fried. Served with your choice of Honey Gusher Trio or Rancheroni Drizzle.

MARY: OK...and then there are Rippers, Blasters, and Splashers.

GABE: Rippers are where we take boneless thighs and literally rip them with our hands into a beer-batter, then drag them in breadcrumbs and poach them in oil. Blasters - those are Rippers with a chipotle twist, they are dipped in a blood-red glaze and left to harden before serving. Splashers...hang on. Let me get Deb.

DEB: Splashers are pieces of popcorn chicken that come with two choices of our signature Dunk Buckets: Jalapeno Extreme Yo, Buffalingus, or Cheddophilia. You fold the perforations on the box to make a little backboard and then splash the chicken off it into the Dunk Bucket. Play against a friend.

[Hands phone back to GABE.]

GABE: All of these are available as wraps, salads, or Fist ‘ems.

MARY: I will have to call you back. [hangs up, shouts down to another group of people.] Skinners are tenders reskinned with leg, Blasters are spicy Rippers, Splashers are like a sport against two sauces. First to ten wins.

ALAN: What’s a Fist ‘em? [reading the website]

DOUG: And can you get it as a Blazequake?

[MARY calls back]

GABE: (sings) PJ Cluckers, the chicken you love to eat. (DEB crows) PJ Cluckers, where the chicken is kickin’, can I help you?

MARY: Yeah, hi. What’s a Fist ‘em?

GABE: A Fist ‘em is a long tortilla tube that we fill with a special funnel and seal shut with a double-strained flavorless gelatin.

MARY: Does it come as a Blazequake?

[GABE hands the phone to DEB.]

DEB: We only do Blazequakes after 8pm, because the marinade is a three-part epoxy that smokes out the dining room. You can get it as a Fist ‘em, in a Lacerator, or as part of a Slurperstar Combo Shock. [hands the phone back to GABE.]

GABE: I would avoid the Lacerator if you’ve had any dental work done.

MARY: OK, I'll have to call you back. [shouts down to group.] Blazequakes after 8, a Fist ‘em is like a taco pipe, do not get the Lacerator. OK, I’m starving. I’m putting the order in. (calls back)

GABE: (sings) PJ Cluckers, the chicken you love to eat. (DEB crows) PJ Cluckers, where the chicken is kickin’, can I help you?

MARY: I want a Cramjack Crimper and I’ll “Add a Splat” of the Garlic Mayodust. Here, tell this guy what you want. [tosses phone to ALAN to place his order]

ALAN: Buffalingus Slurperstar Combo Shock with Smackaroni and Soul Slaw, turbocharge the Diet Dew. [passes the phone to DOUG]

DOUG: Cheddophilia Blaster with a Totpile and an extra-large drip tray. Can I get Bacon Shavers on top?

GABE: Do you want those Shavers curled or flat, and in shards or strips?

DOUG: Curled shards. [passes the phone to EMILY]

EMILY: I’ll have a Ripper Wrap in the Chomp-It size with a side of Skazzy’s Lemon-Pepper shellac.

GABE: Just a heads up, that shellac tends to becomes poisonous if it reaches room temperature.

EMILY: OK, let’s do the Atomic Balsamic. Then we’re going to split a Full Court Press Splashers with Jalapeno Extreme, Yo and...can you do the Barbecurious in a Dunk Bucket?

GABE: [looking over at DEB, who nods] Yeah, we can do that.

EMILY: Great. And a Beak Bag with a Horseradish Injectable. Is that like in a packet?

GABE: It’s a medical-grade hypodermic needle.

EMILY: That works. [passes the phone to BETH]

BETH: Hi, I’m a vegan, I was wondering if you had any- [GABE hangs up immediately, looks over at DEB, who shakes her head “No.”] Hello? They hung up.

DOUG: Maybe you can...order from somewhere else. Separately.

BETH: [looking at the menus] It’s...fine. Sorry.

(DON and MARISA are in their living room, sitting on the couch.)

DON: (putting his hand up) Wait - hold still, don't move. (DON slowly rises and looks out the window.) Oh...Oh hell yes! I knew I smelled the UPS guy's cologne! Thank God we're home!

(DON starts to do his Amazon package dance and dances over to the intercom just as it buzzes.)

MARISA: Oh god, this is why we took a vacation day? What did you order from Amazon this time?

DON: Well, Marisa, this order is a perfect storm of rational practicality and sheer, unbridled impulse. You've got Omnitech Insulated Triple Grade winter boots, a stainless steel electric milk frothing wand, a 3-pack of officially licensed Tennessee Titans boxer briefs, and...(coughs)...Monk: Seasons 1-4 on DVD. (small pause) Blu-Ray.

MARISA: Wait, what!?

DON: Be right back! Hee hee!

(DON rubs his hands together excitedly and opens the door to head down to the lobby, then stops in his tracks horrified and shuts the door.)

DON: Oh shitbaaaaaaalllllllls, NO! NO!

MARISA: What's going on?

DON: (totally annoyed) Mrs. Covarrubias is carrying up her groceries!

(MRS. COVARRUBIAS enters on the other side of the stage. She is ancient, angry looking, and holding a large bag of groceries.)

MARISA: (looking out the peephole) Oh, man. She totally is.

DON: GAAAH! I can't go out there now! I'll have to carry all her stupid bags up three flights! Or her nephew, the bad one, he's like a drug mule or something, she could start telling me about her nephew and turning purple.

MARISA: (looking out the peephole) Oh, so what? What's the big deal? She's just an old lady...and she could probably use some help. (MRS. COVARRUBIAS struggles with a bag and makes unsettling straining noises.)

DON: (moving MARISA over to look out the peephole). So what? Marisa, you know as well as I do that the only thing that withered sack of skin hates more than kindness itself is when it's at MY hands! She hates my young guts! She asks me to help with her Emperor Palpatine rasp and then viscerally hates me all the way up the stairs.

MARISA: I think you're exaggerating. She is sort of a handful...and I did see her snarl at Mr. Garza's border collie in the stairwell, but she is not that bad.

DON: Not that bad? Clarence, that border collie? Won't even leave Garza's unit anymore. He started peeing over the balcony. I don't even want to know where he's stashing the turds.

MARISA: What? My basil plants are out there!

DON: And why do you think Mrs. Sobong won't go in the basement anymore?

MARISA: Sobong? Is that how you say it? How do you know she won't go in the basement?

DON: There was an op-ed in the Association Newsletter. You remember back in April when Mrs. Covarrubias almost tripped over Sobong's flip-flops on the stairs? Well, Sobong fires back by putting a curse on the whole basement! The physical room, Marisa. She cursed it.

MARISA: Jesus. Even the laundry nook?

DON: (exasperated) I don't know, probably. DAMN IT! Why now? I should be slurping a cappuccino and basking in some trademark Shaloubian lunacy right now. Shaloubnacy!

MARISA: (looking out the peephole again) Uh oh.

DON: What now?

MARISA: Your package is gone.

DON: (moving MARISA out of the way) WHAT? What are you talking about? Where the hell did it go? It was right by the mailboxes!

(MRS. COVARRUBIAS emerges with the package, inspecting it and grappling with it.)

DON: (furious) She has it! Why does she have it? Put it down, you horrible gorgon, that is my box!!

MARISA: Covarubes!! She must have gotten confused and accidentally scooped it up in those leathery limbs. She's going to scuttle it back to her lair and gobble your briefs as an early dinner.

DON: Stop it, I'm going to barf my face off.

MARISA: You know, none of this would have happened if you had just gone out there.

DON: (getting really sad) I'm going to have to reorder, say it's lost! That's another 3 weeks with super saver shipping...and we won't be home when they deliver it, so I'll have to have it reshipped to the office, and Shamina at the front desk will probably open it before she gives it to me...all of my careful planning crushed in that harpy's deathgrip!

MARISA: (accepting the challenge) Look, I'll go get it from her, okay?

DON: Wait, Marisa, you don't have to...

MARISA: It's no big deal. She's just an old lady.

(MARISA opens the door and begins down the stairs towards Mrs. Covarrubias.)

MARISA: (very kind) Hi, Mrs. Covarrubias, do you need some -

(Immediately Mrs. Covarrubias rears up in a terrible and frightening display)

MRS. COVARRUBIAS: (snarling and rooting through her groceries) WHERE IS MY BILLFOLD! THOSE DAMNED APPLE-HEADED WAGON-WELDERS! (looks directly into MARISA'S eye accusingly) THIEVES, ALL OF THEM! SANTI! SANTI, COME HOME!!!

(MARISA darts back inside and slams the door shut, terrified, almost in tears)

MARISA: Holy crap, WHAT?!

DON: SEE! (rushing to comfort her) SEE what I mean? It's OK, it's OK. Thank you, babe, I love you so much. (after a pause) Did she call you an apple-headed wagon-welder?

MARISA: (upset) I don't know, Don.

DON: Is that a racial slur, do you think? Who were the wagon-welders? (small pause) BT Dubs, Santi's the nephew.

MARISA: Whatever. All I know is that she shrieked and looked right in my eyes and I'm positive that a part of my soul turned into ash.

DON: OK, look, this is idiotic. I'm not letting this decrepit fleshbag steal from me and yell at my wife - my wife! - in the same day. (He opens the door bravely.) This ends here, Covarrubias!

("Monkey Man" kicks in as DON and MRS. COVARRUBIAS'S eyes lock. In slow-motion, DON maneuvers down the stairwell, confusing COVARRUBIAS, who drops the box. DON fakes to the groceries as though he's kindly offering to carry them, but at the last second shakes his head, rolls and dives for the box, grabbing it. He springs up and taunts COVARRUBIAS before dashing into his condo and shutting the door.)

DON: (in a cathartic yawp) YEE-AAAAH! YES! DO ME A FAVOR AND SUCK ON THIS, COVARRUBIAS!!!!

MARISA: Where did you get moves like that? You were like some kind of jungle cat.

DON: Well, when your honor is on the line, and there's nothing left to lose, you just have to look deep inside yourself and deliver justice to..(his eyes move down to read the package label)...Our beloved Abuela Covarrubias.

Hi, I'm Ed Harris, a pretty famous actor with an interesting and diverse career. If you're into movies at all, you probably know my work, or at least recognize my face. I've been in a ton of movies...so this really isn't necessary, but just in case...Truman Show, The Rock, Apollo 13, The Hours, The Abyss...all these other great ones dating back like three decades at this point. I'm the best part in all of them. Jesus, Glengarry Glen Ross, Pollock...I nailed those...I really nailed 'em [stares out for a beat]. Anyway, how many Oscars have I won? Do you know? Goddamn zero. Like a thousand nominations and nothing to show for it. Got a Golden Globe, got that shit, but nothing from the Academy. Which is precisely why I'm talking to you now.

Give me an Oscar this year. Straight up give it to me.

What's that? You're saying I haven't done that much this year? What movie was I even in this year that could maybe earn me a nomination? Alright, nothing really, but listen. This Oscar, this one I'm asking you to just put in my hand, no nominations, no drumroll, no fatface Russell Crowe spoiling everything, is for something even more impressive. My personal achievements. The fact is, I did a ton of great stuff in 2011, just not on the silver screen. On the screen that is MY LIFE. The ongoing epic film that is ME. Confused? Fine, deal with this.

Number one. I built a huge bad ass deck all by myself. Right off my master bedroom. I'm rich, I could have hired a contractor, but no. I bought all the wood, used the internet to figure out which type of screw to use, rented multiple tools. At one point I just about trashed the auger and almost lost my security deposit but the rental guy was too touched by my gravitas to charge me. I bought these kneepads and they were not very protective so I had to get another pair. I handled all these challenges with my signature sober glances, clenched-jaw resignation, and methodical nodding. I had all the key facial parts working in perfect harmony.

[Lights up to a man and woman seated on stools looking serious.]

DONALD: Hi, I'm Donald Gleaven, and this is my wife Marianne. We're the owners of Gleaven Grape Growers, proud purveyors of grape and grape-related products for literally centuries. My great great great grandfather was an immigrant who grew his first grape on a tenement windowsill while outside the streets were burbling with human waste. This was before they had a proper sewer system in the city so people kind of spread their necessaries everywhere. Anyway, the point is, grapes are in my blood, in my wife Marianne's blood by marriage, and in half of my son Trent's blood by birth. It is because of this pride that we know we have to apologize.

[DONALD and MARIANNE get up and adjust the angle of their stools to face the other direction for no reason.]

Earlier this year, our flavor developers created a new flavor of grape, a flavor that we believed then and still believe to be a landmark innovation in grape technology. From the moment I conceived of the idea during a night terror, to the many months that Marianne spent living in a locked greenhouse protecting the delicate web of beakers and tubes, to the expensive and emotionally exhausting patent process that caused our longtime family lawyer to actually sue us, we here at Gleaven stand by our achievement of making the world's first savory-flavored grape. Indeed, it is not for this truly complex and surprising flavor that we apologize.

[Gleaven employees file out from the sides and circle DONALD and MARIANNE. DONALD puts his arm around his son TRENT. Above their heads, a slide brandishing the SAVORAPE logo appears.]

On behalf of all of us here at Gleaven, we are truly remorseful for the subsequent branding and marketing of this dynamic new product.

I doubt many of you out there know the excitement of creating something new. You probably don't know the rush of perfecting a new flavor of fruit. Especially when that flavor is FUNDAMENTALLY the OPPOSITE of that fruit's natural flavor. Well, it's electric. It's addictive. And unfortunately, it can blind you to other considerations, which in retrospect, prove to be incredibly offensive.

Gleaven Grape Growers reject all negative connotations of the misguided product name, while simultaneously embracing the absolutely gamechanging flavor it possesses. We do not support the unintended messaging our marketing team failed to uncover prior to our multi-million dollar marketing campaign.

Looking forward, our new lawyer Dean Lish, along with the esteemed counsel of Lish, Bong, Bong, and Lish, California's only double-brothered law firm, has personally supervised the rebranding efforts so that our product may be quickly returned to your table.

[Above their heads, the slide changes to the new logo, GROPES. DEAN seems satisfied.]

From all us at Gleaven Grape Growers, we thank you for giving us another chance.