FADE IN: INT. BAR & LOUNGE - NIGHT We OPEN with an OVERHEAD VIEW of piano keys. A PAIR OF HANDS come into view. Knuckles crack. Fingers spread out above the keys. But they don’t play a note. Not yet. Hesitation. The deafening silence amplifies the sounds of FOOTSTEPS and other SUBTLE BACKGROUND NOISES. CLOSE SHOT of FRANK’S FACE. A blinding spotlight shining on him. In his late twenties, his haggard appearance nearly hides his baby face. Dark circles under his sad, droopy eyes along with a thick five o’clock shadow contradict his suit and tie. Nothing super snazzy, but most likely his “good” suit. His WIDE EYES wander the room. A sense of dread. He’s done this a million times. He’s tired of it. We PULL BACK CONTINUOUSLY to reveal Frank on a small stage behind his piano -- down an aisle through the what normally would be an AUDIENCE -- only about TWO or THREE PEOPLE spread unevenly across the room. Many empty tables. A FEW DRUNKEN REGULARS sit at the bar. Everyone preoccupied. As if Frank did not exist. The CAMERA STOPS at the back of the room. Frank merely a silhouette under the bright lights on stage. Miniscule in comparison to the size of the nearly empty room. Suddenly, a MAN’S SILHOUETTE steps into view, facing the stage. His back to the camera. A CLOSE LOW ANGLE SHOT of Frank’s profile. His silhouette against the bright lights. He hangs his head for a moment. More doubts. But he picks his head up. Takes a long breath. Tries to find some inspiration. OVERHEAD VIEW of his fingers sprawled out across the ivories. CLOSE SHOT of Frank shutting his eyes. Losing himself. Giving himself the illusion of a full house. All here to see him play. OVERHEAD VIEW of his fingers pounding down on the keys. The opening chords -- the CLASSICAL PIANO PIECE. Popular. Perhaps LISZT or CHOPIN. THE AUDIENCE -- a PATRON takes his eyes away from a book, glances up at the stage slightly annoyed. He returns back to his book. 2. STAGE -- The CAMERA circles around Frank. He surveys the audience while playing with great precision. We catch a glimpse of the SLIM AUDIENCE -- nobody paying attention. As the CAMERA goes back to Frank, he wears a look of disappointment. Becoming distracted. Frank, annoyed and peeved, shortens his piece and hurries it along. Angry eyes while making the last minute adjustment. He reaches the final chords of the piece, which REVERBERATE throughout the room. A sad look on his face as he stares blankly at the empty seats. Silence. Frank’s performance only background music. Frank forces a sad grin. Looks at his cocktail which sits upon the piano. Takes a swig. Hangs his head, shoulders slumped. ENTHUSIASTIC APPLAUSE. One person CLAPPING. A MAN at the back of the room. Shadows hiding his face. Still CLAPPING. Frank scrunches his brow. Confused. He narrows his eyes and leans forward for a better look... BACK OF THE ROOM -- a PAIR OF HANDS clapping. Excessively. Going on for far too long. Frank grows uncomfortable. Almost embarrassed. He flashes a sarcastic grin and nods. As the EXCESSIVE CLAPPING persists: FRANK (leans in to microphone) Thank you. Frank stands up. Grabs his drink and splits. The BRIGHT SPOTLIGHT beams down on his empty seat at the piano. INT. BAR & LOUNGE - AT THE BAR - LATER A TRACKING SHOT shows an empty bar. Only a few DRUNKS left. BEHIND THE BAR -- The CAMERA PANS CONTINUOUSLY -- A DRUNK pounds a shot, drowning himself in his sorrows -- ANOTHER DRUNK is passed out asleep, his head lying sideways on his arms -- as we CONTINUE TO PAN -- SAM (O.S.) You think people come to a joint like this to hear Beethoven? 3. CAMERA STOPS at Frank. A look of despair. Sadness. Looks down at a drink that appears half empty from his point of view. He takes a swig and shrugs. Fairly drunk. Lackadaisical in his delivery. FRANK I wasn’t playing Beethoven. SAM, the bartender, an average Joe, blue collar and middle- aged, wipes down an empty spot at the bar nearby. SAM Whatever. This ain’t no opera house, Frank. Ain’t even a piano bar. It’s a fucking hole-in-the- wall dive that just so happens to have a piano. So, let’s stick to the contemporary stuff, okay? Save that classical shit for Carnegie Hall. Frank smiles sadly. FRANK You know, I played there once? SAM Carnegie Hall? FRANK (nods) Long time ago. Guess I was like some kind of child prodigy. Even composed my own music. Frank gazes down at his drink. Lost in thought. FRANK (CONT’D) Long, long time ago. Sam stares at him, sympathetic. SAM Why in Christ are you playing here for? Frank shrugs. FRANK It’s reality. Pays rent. Sam snickers. 4. SAM I’d hate to step foot in your apartment. (beat) You know, maybe if you started taking requests, it would get the place jumping a little bit. Draw yourself more of audience. Get some extra bread in your jar. Frank snickers pathetically. Looks up at Sam condescendingly. FRANK (smiling ironically) Requests? Frank motions his hand around the venue behind him. The CAMERA follows his hand, reveals empty tables and seats. FRANK (O.S.) (CONT’D) From who? CAMERA back to Frank. FRANK (CONT’D) There’s nobody to take requests from. And when there is, nobody cares. I’m background music. I barely exist. And it’s not like I don’t play the hits. I do Elton John, Billy Joel. All that karaoke, sing-a-long bullshit. SAM Hey, we’re not holding you prisoner here, forcing you to play. I’m sure there’s other spots. FRANK Not for me, there’s not. All the gigs are going to cover bands and deejays. The rest of ‘em are being replaced with Jukeboxes. There’s no audience for me. Not any more. Frank hangs his head. Staring at his drink. FRANK (CONT’D) I’m a dying breed, Sam. An endangered species on the brink of extinction. Sam looks to the end of the bar, appears annoyed: 5. SAM For Christ sake... Sam walks out of view to the... END OF THE BAR -- EXTREME CLOSE SHOT ON a lit cigar. Lips sucking smoke from it and exhaling a thick cloud. IN THE BACKGROUND, Sam approaches: SAM (CONT’D) Hey pal, no smoking in here! In SLOW MOTION, the cigar falls into a cocktail glass. The CAMERA TILTS into an OVERHEAD SHOT. Reveals the cigar cherry fizzling out. A CLOSE SHOT of Frank. Sam sets a drink in front of him. SAM (O.S.) (CONT’D) Looks like you’ve got yourself a fan. A MAN sits IN THE BACKGROUND. At the end of the bar. OUT OF FOCUS. BLURRED. As Frank turns to the end of the bar: FAN comes into focus. CLOSE SHOT of FAN -- in his thirties. Something elegant about him. Neatly groomed and clean shaven. Perfect hair, combed just right. A snazzy suit. But something off about him. Mysterious, piercing eyes. Menacing. Frank nods at FAN. Just a brief acknowledgment before sipping his cocktail. FAN continues to eyeball Frank peculiarly. As if waiting for Frank to further acknowledge him. FAN I enjoyed your performance up there tonight. You’re quite talented. Frank wears a labored grin. Skeptical. While staring at his drink: FRANK Sure thing, buddy. Dead pause. FAN wears a dead serious expression. Staring at Frank. As if entranced by him. Frank hangs his head. Feels eyes on him. He turns slightly to FAN. They stare at each other. An offbeat silence. 6. FRANK (CONT’D) What? FAN shrugs. His eyes fixated on Frank. FAN When’s the next show? Frank raises an eyebrow while growing uncomfortable by FAN’S long, awkward staring. FRANK Next show? Frank turns back to his drink. FAN Won’t be a next show. FAN doesn’t understand. In denial. FAN (CONT’D) What’s that supposed to mean? FRANK (turns to Fan) What do you think it means? I’m fucking done with this shit. It’s over. I’m washed up. FAN glares at Frank. Annoyed. Frank looks back down at his drink. A defeated man. A long awkward silence. The tension thick. Frank feels FAN’S contemptuous glare. Frank turns to him. FRANK (CONT’D) Is there a problem? FAN thinks about it. His never-blinking eyes stuck on Frank while pondering. FAN shrugs, scratches his head. An odd, long delayed response: FAN Is there? They stare at each other until Frank grows too uncomfortable. He turns away from FAN. Finishes off his cocktail. Sets the empty glass on the bar. Frank stands up, tosses money on the bar. Ignores FAN, who studies him closely. 7. The CAMERA follows Frank as he leaves. He passes Sam: FRANK Take it easy, Sam. Sam wipes down the bar: SAM See you next week? FRANK (nearing the door) Don’t count on it. Frank glances back at FAN while leaving. The CAMERA PULLS AWAY from FAN who sits facing Frank. Watching him menacingly. ANGLE ON Frank’s drink which sits on the bar. IN THE BACKGROUND, Frank leaves out the front door. Continue FOCUS ON the drink. Moments later, a HAND jumps into view and snatches the glass off the bar. Soon, FAN is seen leaving. EXT. STREET CORNER - NIGHT - CONTINUOUS Late night. Desolate. Frank the only one in sight. Frank reaches the corner, peers down the street. In the distance, HEADLIGHTS. Approaching. Frank waves his hand out, hoping its a cab. FOOTSTEPS behind him. Frank glances back... GLASS SHATTERS over his face. He drops like a ton of bricks. Out of a view. A LOUD THUD. The HEADLIGHTS glow brighter as the CAR nears closer. The BRIGHT HEADLIGHTS: DISSOLVE TO: INT. DARK ROOM - LATER FRANK’S EYES. Shut. Out like a light. But his eyelids flutter while a SPOTLIGHT shines directly at his face. Nasty gash above his eye. Blood trickling down his cheek. The BLINDING SPOTLIGHT awakens Frank. He opens his eyes. Still blinking. Groggy. Doesn’t know where he is. 8. Frank looks down and sees a piano in front of him. He picks his head up and sees FAN sitting at the other side of the piano. FAN sits in a chair, his eyes hidden beneath shadows. Studying Frank. Frank moves his shoulders but seems stuck. Confused, he looks down to see his elbows bound to the arms of a metal chair by way of rope. The chair bolted to the floor. He tries to move his legs, but his ankles are also bound to the chair. Panic. Frank looks up at FAN with wide, worrisome eyes. Breathing heavily, suddenly wide awake. FRANK What is this? FAN doesn’t respond. Only stares. Observing. Frank looks down at his lap. Blank sheet music paper and a ball point pen. He looks up at FAN again. Surveys the dark room. Frank explodes, desperately wiggles his arms. Stuck. On the brink of a full blown panic attack. Sweat pouring down his face. He rocks around in his chair but doesn’t budge. FAN (O.S.) How long have you been playing? Frank continues to struggle, GRUNTING while squirming around in his restraints. FRANK (frantic) What the fuck is this? Frank goes ape while trying his best to escape. FRANK (CONT’D) What the fuck am I doing here? LET ME GO! FAN wears a business like expression while observing Frank closely. Thumbing his chin in thought. FAN I asked you a question, Frank. FRANK (explodes) FUCK YOU! FUCK YOU! LET ME GO! 9. Frank tires himself out. Catches his breath. He takes a moment to survey the room. Looking for an exit plan. But comes up with nothing. Too dark. Desperation peaking. Tears in Frank’s eyes. FRANK (CONT’D) Why are you doing this? FAN leans in, out of the shadows. The light exposing the menace in his eyes. FAN I believe I asked you a question. Frank looks down at the cement floor. Thinks to himself in frustration. Takes a breath, looks up at FAN. FRANK I’ve been playing since as long as I can remember being alive. FAN What compelled you to play the piano? Frank doesn’t want to answer questions. A lot on his mind right now, so he just spits out answers: FRANK I liked the sound of it. FAN And why continue playing all these years? FRANK (struggles for an answer) Shit man, I don’t know... (grows more frustrated while thinking) Because I was good at it. I won awards, competitions... (beat) Listen, I don’t know why you’re doing this, but I’m pretty sure its against the law -- FAN I just don’t understand why a man of your talent would just throw all those years of experience out the window. It makes no sense to me -- 10. FRANK (explodes) Look at me, you fucking idiot! Open your fucking eyes and take a good look! FAN stops talking. Only observes. Listens intently. As if fascinated by Frank’s behavior. FRANK (CONT’D) Everything I’ve done! All the hard work! Years of lessons! It’s all bullshit! One big fucking pipe dream! Frank’s angry self pity turns to sadness quickly. He balls his ass off, tears cascading down his face. Almost hysterical. FRANK (CONT’D) (calm) They told me I was special. That I was destined for big things. I was supposed to be great. But they forgot to mention one thing. People need to give a shit. Without an audience, I’m nothing. FAN only watches with no change of expression or emotion. Frank wipes his eyes on his shoulder. Tries to calm himself. Catches his breath. Swallows, clears his throat trying to distract himself from his emotions. Straightens up, looks up at FAN. FRANK (CONT’D) Why can’t you just let me go? FAN But if I do, Frank... what’s in it for you? Frank doesn’t understand at first. Bewildered. FRANK If you’re gonna kill me, just do it already. Fuck it, right? Who cares anyway? Just do it. FAN smiles fiendishly while thinking to himself. Amused. Tapping his chin rhythmically as he stares at Frank and mulls it over. FAN rises from his feet. Stands up. Paces back and forth.