All Those Cracks in the Ceiling
A fictional screenplay about absence, grief, and the unreliability of memory.
All Those Cracks in the Ceiling
INT. LIVINGROOM - DUSK
She is sitting behind the table with a board of poorly cut cheese, a wine bottle, and two glasses, one-half full and one empty. She is gazing at the table surface at nothing specific. Reddish evening light lightens her hair but her face is dark in the silhouette.
THE GIRL
There are nights that hurt, I don’t mean every night, some are fun… like tonight.
You know…
I’m a bit tipsy. I’m ok mostly I think, but those nights…
You can’t imagine…
She takes a small sip from the wine glass
THE GIRL
You don’t want some cheese?
Push the wooden board toward the camera and a small pause while looking into the camera
THE GIRL
Those nights…
They happen all of a sudden when you don’t expect it. When you think it’s over when you’re back in your routine pretty happily…
Not happy because of the routine, Maybe not happy at all but it doesn’t hurt. At least not…
The phone starts to ring, She gets up from the table and gets out of the scene. She answers the phone and starts talking in Norwegian
THE GIRL (O.S)
Hello, I’m home with a dear friend… What are you doing?
In English
Want to go out with some of my new friends?
In Norwegian
I’m coming, honey…
No, he wants to stay home…
No, it’s better that he stays. Tell me when you’re close… Alright, see you.
Sound of an opening cabinet in the distance and the popping of the cork of a new bottle. She comes back to the table with a new bottle of wine, pours all the previous one into her glass, and fills it up pretty full. Pour the new wine into the empty glass and push it toward the camera, keep her hand on it for a few seconds while hazing out thinking with her eyes on the glass, and start talking again with her eyes on the glass
THE GIRL
It hurts more when you’re not expecting it to happen, like while brushing your teeth and getting ready for bed. Doing everything smoothly, without being aware of your movement without thinking about it. Unintentional, like breathing…
And you bend on the sink to spit and when you come back up… it starts…
It doesn’t feel like starting, I see myself in the mirror for the 10th time that day, but I notice the pain deep in my eyes… not like a new thing that happened right at that time.
It seems that pain was always there. It’s crazy but you know…
Look back into the camera
Right?
Drink the whole wine glass without waiting for an answer, and get up again
THE GIRL
I want to change.
She stands up and Leave the room
INT. BEDROOM - DUSK
Video collage of her getting ready and details of her bedroom which ends with her voice talking
THE GIRL
Could you come here for a second?
INT. BEDROOM - DUSK
She is sitting in front of a small table with a big mirror on the wall, Some cosmetics and makeup stuff lying on the table. On the right side of the mirror a painting of a deformed figure hanging from the wall, the carved wooden frame is unpleasantly detailed near the chaotic painting. Her face lit properly and it was visible for the first time. She finishes her eye shadow and puts it on the table, raising two lipstick and asking without turning back.
THE GIRL
Which color do you prefer?
I like this one better.
She starts using it in silence and looks at herself in the mirror without any emotion
THE GIRL
I’m ready I think, I need a bit more before they come here though.
She leaves the scene again and turns off the light.
INT. LIVINGROOM - DUSK
The scene is the same as how it ended. She is sitting behind the table and it’s slightly darker.
THE GIRL
It’s still not completely dark outside. The pain came early today.
Maybe it’s for alcohol. It’s like a gamble when you drink. Sometimes it helps to wash the pain away, but there are times…
Like today I guess, they become allies, dancing hand in hand…
The pain and sedatives become one. Drinking just raises the fire. Moving from a glass to the next one to forget but that ignorance I’m looking for doesn’t exist…
pour another glass
THE GIRL
But humans are gamblers anyway. Always hoping for a good thing to happen.
She starts drinking slowly from her glass, stands up turns on the small lamp behind her on the bookshelf, and Sit back. Her face was darker again in the silhouette of the lamp. Slowly drinking in silence for a long time and the sound of the doorbell. Stand up and look outside of the window.
THE GIRL
They are here, Are you sure you don’t want to join?
She opens the window and the sound of people talking in Norwegian and laughing comes inside. She bent over out of the window and shouted in Norwegian
THE GIRL
I’m coming down.
She goes out of the scene and comes back with her coat and a small purse. Put the purse on the table, wearing her coat, drinks the rest of her wine, takes her keys out of the bag, turns the light off, and leaves the scene in a rush. The curtain moves slowly from the wind coming from the open window and the sound of her locking door and silence.
EXT. STREET - NIGHT
Video collages of her partying with friends in different places and pictures get more blurry as it goes. Ends with the sound of a key opening the door.
INT. LIVING ROOM - NIGHT
The scene is completely dark. A few seconds of the empty scene and the Sound of the door opening. She came back into the scene pretty wasted, leaving the keys and small bag on the table, taking her coat and t-shirt off and putting them on the chair, and going out of the scene again. Sound of tap water and she returned with a glass bottle filled with water. Drink as much as she can from it and leave it on the table. Take her phone out of her purse and starts using it. Her face is glowing from the phone screen light. A sound that says Bluetooth connected and in a few seconds Mike Patton - Ballade C.3.3. Starts playing.
MUSIC
Mike Patton — Ballade C.3.3., featuring verses from Oscar Wilde's The Ballad of Reading Gaol (1898).
Yet each man kills the thing he loves
By each let this be heard,
Some do it with a bitter look,
Some with a flattering word,
The coward does it with a kiss,
The brave man with a sword!
She starts taking off her jeans with a bit of struggle. More in a desperate way, not seductive. Fill her glass up, throw the wine left in another glass out of the window, and fill it again. Look toward the camera and push the glass on the table closer to the camera. She closes the window and leaves the scene.
MUSIC
Some kill their love when they are young,
And some when they are old;
Some strangle with the hands of Lust,
Some with the hands of Gold:
The kindest use a knife, because
The dead so soon grow cold.
The scene gradually gets completely black.
MUSIC
Some love too little, some too long,
Some sell, and others buy;
Some do the deed with many tears,
And some without a sigh:
For each man kills the thing he loves,
Yet each man does not die.
INT. LIVING ROOM - NIGHT
A couch facing against the camera on the left side of the scene, with a window on the back, and half of the table from scene 4 on the right. The scene is still dark. Sound of the toilet flush and wash up afterward. The scene lights up with the sound of the opening door and got dark again with the closing. She moved into the scene and lay on the couch with only her head visible to the camera.
THE GIRL
Do you remember the first night that we met?
It was the birthday of your oldest friend. A friend that life took you apart into two different paths. You hated to be there, but you were there every year. It was a ritual for you that you have to do. Not for the sake of your friend but only for yourself to be in touch with the past and linger on small things left from your childhood…
I wasn’t enjoying it too…
For entirely different reasons.
It was the end of summer, the first of mine there. I wasn’t used to hot summers yet. You were sitting on the balcony smoking and sipping your drink alone for the whole night. The picture of your glass still is printed into my head since… I can remember it so vividly like I am looking at it now. All the tiny drops of water on the outside drip down making room for new ones to appear slowly. And that two small ice floats on top…
I joined you there, not that I like you, only I was tired of Sarah trying to cheer me up and all the people that I don’t know flirting with me. I came to the balcony just to get out of there…
As soon as I closed the door behind me, all that loud music and people stopped. It was just you, me, and the sounds of the city in the middle of the night.
Stands up and walks toward the table
THE GIRL
Still don’t want to drink with me?
Turn the small lamp on the bookshelf on and take her glass and lay back down on the couch with the glass in her hand. Take a sip and look at the glass while moving it slowly in her hand in silence. After a pause.
THE GIRL
Remember that you didn’t say anything to me? Not even look at me when I came there like I didn’t exist in your world. I asked for a cigarette and you took a crushed pack out of your pocket and put it on the table. There was only one left in it, an ugly bent one. I was trying to straighten it up, but you were faster with your lighter. It was the first time that you brought your lighter close to my face. You said later that you like to light other people’s cigarettes when it is dark, to see their faces glow with that reddish color. It was probably the first time you looked at me I think, but I was more focused on reaching the tip of the cigarette to the fire…
Finish the glass and put it on the floor behind the couch.
THE GIRL
I finally quit smoking… It’s almost a year now. It was easier than I thought. One day like every other day I was sitting on the table and watching people walking passed by on the street while waiting for my tea to cool down. I lit a cigarette but I didn’t like it anymore. There was something different, I couldn’t stand it and put it out after a few puffs… That was it, never smoked after that, not even crave it once. It just vanished, not gradually. It was there and suddenly not anymore. Poof…
I wasn’t finished with my cigarette when everyone went downstairs on the street to light some fireworks… It was beautiful, all those tiny sparks flying from the street and exploding into millions more just in front of us.
All those sounds, people cheering up on the street, It wasn’t annoying anymore. It was romantic…
Something exploded in me as well, I got warm inside, too warm that summer heat felt cold. It would be nice if you kissed me then, everything might have started sooner that way…
But with the last biggest red firework you just said strontium causes the red color of fireworks. Do you know how dumb it is?
Everyone was smiling, holding hands, or whatever… Fucking strontium… That’s the first thing you ever said to me…
How cruel you had been to me all these years.
Lean more into the couch, now her face isn’t visible to the camera.
THE GIRL
You killed that joy inside me. Everything became so quiet after the fireworks finished. You got up and said bye and left me alone there on the balcony…
You know that you need to greet people first, before saying goodbye? You never say hi or ask my name… I hate you for that. All these years I was scared that you would just get up one day and say bye and leave me forever. Without any heads up… exactly when the fireworks are exploding…
I lived with that fear, it was torture…
still is…
After a long pause, she brings her head up from the couch and looks into the camera
THE GIRL
Can you come here and hold me for a bit?
After waiting a little for the answer, she lay back like before and started to sing.
MUSIC
She quietly sings Babylon, a traditional setting of Psalm 137, associated with Don McLean's recording. Her voice trails into the silence of the apartment.
INT. KITCHEN - NIGHT
A narrow kitchen, with cabinets on both sides, a fridge on the left, and a stove and oven on the right. Everything is packed together tightly. A window in the end with pitch black outside. The kitchen light is very bright compared to the previous scene. A big poster on the wall on the right side of the window. She enters the scene from behind the camera, Opens the freezer, and takes out a frozen pizza.
THE GIRL
The oven is preheated already.
Making it ready to go into the oven while talking.
THE GIRL
I’m thinking a lot about the trip you had to the southern coasts. The one you took alone… one with the sailor and his lost brother. You came back a few days late. Everyone was worried… I was on the phone with Ali and we were planning to come there and search for you… You opened the door, Your face was changed, Thinner than ever, completely dried up and burned… Like the only survivor of a catastrophe…
Put the pizza in the oven, and sit in front of it on the floor.
THE GIRL
Your eyes were the most terrifying part… deeper in your skull… I know that they have bad news, which they have… But then I was happy that you were back, I didn’t care about the bad news. You started telling me the story before I let you out of my arm. You broke the silence you always have with you… talked for hours straight. The sailor, his brother, and the fairy island were all that existed for you then. How the brother sailed to find the fairy island and never came back since…
How the sailor cried while telling you the story…
He believed that his brother’s old boat couldn’t stand the waves. Not like you who thought he found the island.
She stands up and drinks water straight from the tap washes her face and sits back down again like before
THE GIRL
If he found the island why never come back for his brother? I’ve never seen you that miserable, How hard you tried to convenience the sailor to sail with you and find the island?
Lean over and check the pizza behind the glass and sit back in a way that she’s turning her back to the camera and looking at the wall.
THE GIRL
You only talked about your reasons to go… to leave everything for that island… even me… I think about his reason still… Reasons to stay, I talked about it a lot, but you never listened… You never understand what I said, like I didn’t understand you… You were always pursuing things that did not exist to me, Like the day that you said you did not want to paint anymore… You left the studio and I stayed…
She lays on the floor looking at her hand that is raised high.
THE GIRL
I finished all your unfinished paintings, It took too long, but it’s done finally. It’s out there, getting all the attention and praise… I’m not sure if they’re good, maybe the hype is only for your disappearance. You know people smile when they see the title not while seeing the painting. Disappeared artists, sound cool at least. I have another talk about it tomorrow, not tomorrow, in a few hours. I present it too many times that it’s not fun anymore… I can do it without any preparation now. No matter who’s listening or where I am… I can do it even now, drunk and lying on the floor, without forgetting a single word. It would be different if I’m telling it to you.
Look back at the camera.
THE GIRL
Do you want to hear it now? It changes a lot after you leave…
Somehow I like it better this way.
She stands up takes the pizza out of the oven and puts it on the counter. While looking for something in the drawer, rushes out of the scene. Sound of the bathroom door opening and puking.
She comes back to the kitchen drying her face with a towel. Leaves it on the counter and starts drinking water from the tap.
THE GIRL
I think you’re right. I should go to bed. You always were the drunkest, now look at me.
INT. BATHROOM - NIGHT
Video collage of her brushing and wiping her makeup.
INT. BEDROOM - NIGHT
She lays on the bed with her back to the camera. The scene is fairly dark.
THE GIRL
I slept with someone last week… It was the first time. First time to be with a stranger in our bed… The first time to touched another skin, feeling a different set of lips stroking all over me. You know, like a paintbrush leaving marks on an empty canvas. A tingling sensation, one that burns, lurking under my skin. I still felt frozen inside. He was young and passionate and he tried but the ice only melted for a few drops…
Those that dripped on my chick, in those seconds that I’ve been fooled by my imagination. A small glance of your presence in my head. It didn’t last long. Everything was too strangely different for my imagination to keep up. His touch was gentle, like yours but couldn’t penetrate my skin. His scent spread in the room, like yours, merging with the warm still air but fading and getting cold before reaching my lungs. He moaned, I did it too. It even echoed between these walls but there was no conversation. No questions were asked and no answers replayed. Only meaningless sounds going back and forth. Each got louder with every single echo. Desperate to take over every other sound. Our eyes met a few times, I took it back every single time. I remember ice melting in my glass beside the bed. I remember it even better than his face. How they were melting under the lamp’s warm light, slowly filling up the glass again.
All those cracks in the ceiling, they’re imprinted in my head now. Even better than your face. Not that they’re interesting or dear. I just needed something to fill my memories. You can’t leave it blank, even if you try hard. There should be always something. They look old. Must have been here for a long time. Even when you were still here. I never noticed them before, not until that night…
I hope it’s the same for you.
She turns back toward the camera without looking at it. Picks up her phone and turns the flashlight on the ceiling.
THE GIRL
You haven’t seen them before?
Right?
The camera gets a close shot of the ceiling which there is no crack on it.
REFERENCES AND MUSIC
Wilde, Oscar. The Ballad of Reading Gaol. 1898. Original English poem, public domain. The verses appearing in the screenplay follow Wilde's original text.
https://www.gutenberg.org/files/301/301-h/301-h.htm
Patton, Mike. Ballade C.3.3. Musical interpretation of verses from Oscar Wilde's The Ballad of Reading Gaol. Referenced as an intended soundtrack in the screenplay; no recording is reproduced here.
Babylon. Traditional canon based on Psalm 137, historically associated with Philip Hayes and later recorded by Don McLean on American Pie (1971). Referenced as a song performed by the character; its lyrics are not reproduced here.
© 2023 Hamid Attaran. All rights reserved for the original screenplay. Third-party works retain their respective rights.
