{"id":129,"date":"2010-12-21T19:19:52","date_gmt":"2010-12-21T19:19:52","guid":{"rendered":"http:\/\/www.betheisen.com\/wordpress\/?p=129"},"modified":"2010-12-21T21:11:40","modified_gmt":"2010-12-21T21:11:40","slug":"the-race","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"http:\/\/www.betheisen.com\/wordpress\/archives\/129","title":{"rendered":"The Race"},"content":{"rendered":"

“The Race” is a screenplay by Beth Eisen.
\nView the Screenplay (PDF)<\/a><\/p>\n

<\/p>\n

———————
\nExcerpt:<\/strong><\/p>\n

FADE IN:<\/p>\n

EXT. LABRADOR, CANADA, WINTER\t1903\tDAY<\/p>\n

The edge of the world. Bitter cold. Snow. Dark, grey day.<\/p>\n

LEONIDAS “LADDIE” HUBBARD, the leader of the expedition, late 20’s, slumps against DILLON WALLACE, late 30’s, former lawyer, surrounded by the haze from the pitiful little fire.<\/p>\n

Their ragged clothes hang off their gaunt bodies in shreds. Every movement is slow, painful, haunted. This what the final stages of starvation look like.<\/p>\n

GEORGE ELSON, late 20’s, their guide, Scotch-Cree Indian, weakly stumbles into view clutching a small, weathered box, the word “Mustard” still faintly visible. He gestures toward the bush he’d found it under.<\/p>\n

They pass the box from hand to hand as if it is made of gold.<\/p>\n

George, with great difficulty, pries the top off with his knife. He scrapes out the last shards of mustard from the walls of the box onto a flat rock.<\/p>\n

They dumbly stare at the three tiny piles of brownish yellow.<\/p>\n

With dirty, bony fingers George and Wallace each carefully scoops up his portion. Hubbard is too weak to reach for his dinner.<\/p>\n

Like a mother bird, Wallace places the mustard from his own hand into Hubbard’s mouth. Then he feeds himself.<\/p>\n

The mustard is savored as if it’s the finest delicacy in the world.<\/p>\n


\nRead the Entire Screenplay (PDF)<\/a><\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"

“The Race” is a screenplay by Beth Eisen. View the Screenplay (PDF) ——————— Excerpt: FADE IN: EXT. LABRADOR, CANADA, WINTER 1903 DAY The edge of the world. Bitter cold. Snow….<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":1,"featured_media":139,"comment_status":"open","ping_status":"open","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"footnotes":""},"categories":[9,8],"tags":[],"class_list":["post-129","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","has-post-thumbnail","hentry","category-screenplays","category-writing"],"_links":{"self":[{"href":"http:\/\/www.betheisen.com\/wordpress\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/129","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"http:\/\/www.betheisen.com\/wordpress\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"http:\/\/www.betheisen.com\/wordpress\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"http:\/\/www.betheisen.com\/wordpress\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/users\/1"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"http:\/\/www.betheisen.com\/wordpress\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/comments?post=129"}],"version-history":[{"count":16,"href":"http:\/\/www.betheisen.com\/wordpress\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/129\/revisions"}],"predecessor-version":[{"id":149,"href":"http:\/\/www.betheisen.com\/wordpress\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/129\/revisions\/149"}],"wp:featuredmedia":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"http:\/\/www.betheisen.com\/wordpress\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media\/139"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"http:\/\/www.betheisen.com\/wordpress\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media?parent=129"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"http:\/\/www.betheisen.com\/wordpress\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/categories?post=129"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"http:\/\/www.betheisen.com\/wordpress\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/tags?post=129"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}