MOVIE PITCH – Part III

Woman is sitting on terrace of sumptuous villa built into the rocks overlooking the Mediterranean.  She is having lunch with Russian friend, and Russian friend of friend.  Woman is part-Russian, so only half of her feels left out.  (The bottom half).  The women espy a lone man swimming in the choppy sea a little way out from the coastline.  The 100%  Russian women coo in admiration for his strong arms, his sense of purpose, his bravery. 50% Russian woman says that’s all very well, but if he’s from around here he’ll still only be 3’6″ when he gets out of the water.

Russian friend of friend asks woman why she left Nice.  Woman replies it was a mixture of reasons, but one of them was it was seemingly impossible to find a man. Russian friend says she’s going to see to it that the woman returns to Nice, grabs her phone and starts to make calls to potential suitors – most notably a well-known Nicoise journalist, and a Russian Jewish concert pianist. She leaves messages for them to come over to her place immediately, that she has a lovely half-Russian, 100% Jewish woman for them.  Lovely half-Russian, 100% Jewish woman begins to feel it’s time to leave…

…but friend of friend’s phone rings. Friend of friend answers and chats away in fluent Italian for ten minutes.  At the end of the call friend of friend turns to lovely half-Russian, 100% Jewish woman and says That was Christina Versace.  She’s standing outside my house in Italy wondering if she can take tea with me.

Lovely, half-Russian, 100% Jewish, freaked-out-by-the-surrealism-of-it-all woman gets up to go. She thanks friend for her very generous hospitality, bids farewell to friend of friend, mentally waves at Christina Versace, and walks up winding path to the bus stop.

[WOMAN DOES ALL HER OWN STUNTS AS LONG AS THERE’S NOTHING PHYSICAL INVOLVED, IN PARTICULAR RUNNING, JUMPING, SWIMMING, LARGE DOGS, BUDGERIGARS, SMALL DOGS, HELICOPTERS AND CROCODILES OF ANY SIZE (INCLUDING MEDIUM). WALKING UP WINDING PATHS TO BUS STOP ACCEPTABLE.  AS LONG AS YOU CAN GET THE INSURANCE.  NB. BUSES OK, WITH THE PROVISO THEY’RE NOT BEING DRIVEN BY KEANU REEVES.]

CUT TO

Woman walking along Nice street, running by chance into (now married to someone else, but still jealous) former-girlfriend of a man with whom woman once shared a very strong attraction and almost had a little something with.  Former-girlfriend looks shocked at woman’s presence, but pastes smile on face over gritted teeth, saying I thought you lived in London now.  Woman replies that she does, she’s over in Nice for a visit.  Former-girlfriend cheers up considerably. Ohhh (smile looking a little more genuine), when are you going home?

TWO WEEKS LATER

Woman back in London, on the phone, which she puts down at the end of the call in a distressed state.  Turns out London friends have arrived in Nice apartment, but the furniture the tenant was buying (having beaten woman down A LOT on price) and which he’d agreed to leave in the apartment until woman’s friends had vacated it, has been taken already.  Along with something the tenant had been told was not included in the package. Not to mention all the sheets and towels. She contacts tenant.  Tenant tells her he’s sorry, his (very good) English isn’t very good and that he hadn’t understood (although the point had been made in English and in French – and further, in emails).  (He had no problems negotiating the price down A LOT for the goods, however, did he?).

Woman starts banging head against brick wall.

FADES TO BLACK

RUN CREDITS

Well, what do you think?  Too far-fetched if we can’t get Angelina?

Yeah, that’s what I thought.

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About notniceetoile

I'm a freelance comedy writer, now living in Brighton after a few years in London, having relocated back to the UK in 2011 after a couple of years of adventures on the Cote D'Azur. Check out my blog about life in Nice:- http://drivingoverexpats.blogspot.com/ and my political satire blog:- http://amuzenewz.com/2013/01/28/passport-to-paradise/ Available for weddings (3 to date) and barmitzvahs (0 - I'm a girl, duh).

Posted on October 13, 2011, in Uncategorized. Bookmark the permalink. Leave a comment.

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