GODSPEED aka STAND ON IT - 1970s 091416 CLEAN.fdx

119 Pages·2016·0.28 MB·English

STAND ON IT
by
Michael Toay & Travis Mann
Michael Toay
[email protected]
778-668-7848
Travis Mann
[email protected]
310-424-0267
U.S. Copyright #PAu 2-761-625
EXT. MIAMI, FLORIDA - DAY
A HELICOPTER SHOT, looking down at the ocean. WAVES race past
just below us as Mel McDaniel’s “STAND ON IT” plays.
SUPER: “Miami, Florida - 1976”
At the beach, we TILT UP, looking at Miami skyscrapers. We
zip between them, low to the ground.
Ahead on the street, through a dense canyon of buildings- two
cars race right at us- side by side- blazing fast.
One is an immaculate, brand-new 1976 Porsche 911 Turbo
Carrera, complete with the whale-tale spoiler.
The other, a red 1970 Chevelle SS 396, suffers from various
dents and scrapes, most sprayed over with flat black primer.
Not as fancy or pretty as the 911, the Chevelle’s fat tires,
lowered chassis and front air splitter make it just as fast.
The 911’s LOUD TURBO WHINE competes with the Chevelle’s BIG-
BLOCK V-8 GROWL, vibrating the pavement as they rocket past.
INT. TROY’S CHEVELLE - NIGHT
TROY, 20s, shaggy hair, and stubble, pilots the Chevelle.
His five-point racing harness, integrated roll-cage and
custom gauges show the Chevelle is set up for sheer speed.
Yet the 911 pulls ahead on the straightaway. Troy’s amazed at
the Porsche’s performance.
He reaches past the 8-Track CASSETTE playing the Mel McDaniel
song, grabs the MIC HANDSET for his CB RADIO.
TROY
(into radio)
That car’s fast, Hector. Too bad you
don’t have a clue how to drive it.
Troy whips his car into position directly behind the 911.
INT. HECTOR’S PORSCHE - NIGHT
Hector, 30s, a Cuban immigrant with a shaved head, steers the
911 as he responds to Troy via CB radio.
2
HECTOR
(into radio)
You’re the one in my rearview mirror.
We’ll see who’s first to the TV tower.
TROY (O.S.)
(over radio)
Just get ready to sign that pink slip
over to me.
HECTOR
In your dreams.
He gives Troy a little wave and shifts into another gear.
EXT. MIAMI STREETS / INT. CHEVELLE & PORSCHE - NIGHT
Hector flies through a red light, Troy right behind him.
Cars in the intersection slam on their brakes.
Troy swerves violently, just missing another vehicle. The
Chevelle fishtails, but Troy whips the wheel- saves it.
HORNS BLARE as Troy downshifts, smashes the pedal to the
floor. The Chevelle’s rear tires seize the pavement, and he
races off, quickly regaining lost ground.
The cars are nearly side-by-side as they approach another
traffic light. A truck crosses in front of them and they both
swerve, Troy going one way, the Cuban another.
Now on two different streets, Troy and Hector race to
outmaneuver traffic, as well as each other.
Troy approaches a dead end. He whips the wheel. The car turns
on a dime. He cranks the wheel back the other way and the car
responds just as smoothly. He's now in a narrow alley, doing
70 as he dodges trash dumpsters.
Out the window, he can see Hector running parallel to him on
a side street. He spots a curve in the alley ahead.
Hector races through traffic, weaving in and out of cars,
busting stop lights. Ahead of him, Troy's car suddenly blasts
out of the alley, CROSSES IN FRONT OF HIM, cuts hard right
and he's along side Hector again- on the opposite side from
where he came.
Troy’s grin is ear to ear, completely in his element.
HECTOR
How can he DO that?!
3
Hector cuts the wheel hard and he and Troy are separated
again. Hector rockets through a mall parking lot and flies on
to the service road.
Still on the surface street, Troy is forced to go the long
way around. He hangs a hard right at the next intersection,
guns the engine.
Hector exits the mall, going the wrong way down a one-way
street. He dives in and out of on-coming traffic.
HECTOR
Dios mio.
He hangs a hard left to get off this street- and finds
himself just ahead of Troy.
TROY
Not bad, Fidel. Now let’s see who’s got
their groove on.
Troy pulls alongside, but can't get around. He tries the
opposite side with the same result. Finally, he passes, but
can't hold on, as Hector passes him right back.
Traffic is in the way and Troy can't keep the lead. They race
side by side through traffic, through intersections, around
curves.
They're closing on the Fontainebleau Golf Course. Troy makes
a decision... and whips into oncoming traffic.
Passing a city bus... then a semi truck... Hector keeps pace
on the opposite side.
Troy slices, dodges and weaves. He clears the semi, ducks
back into his own lane- leading Hector by half a car length.
Ahead, a couple walking their dog steps off the curb. Troy
swerves to miss them as they dive back toward the sidewalk.
Hector retakes the lead, whooping it up.
There’s a bend just ahead- the road narrows to one lane. Troy
is desperate to pass, but Hector blocks him.
Stuck behind the Porsche, Troy cranks the wheel, turns into--
EXT. FONTAINEBLEAU GOLF COURSE - NIGHT
Troy crashes through the shrubbery, leaves the road, climbs a
grass hill...
4
INT. HECTOR’S PORSCHE - NIGHT
Hector checks his rearview mirror, frantically tries to spot
the Chevelle. Troy’s gone.
HECTOR
Where'd he go?! Where'd he go?!
EXT. FONTAINEBLEAU GOLF COURSE / INT. CHEVELLE - NIGHT
Troy roars down the hillside, onto a pristine fairway. The
Chevelle’s fat tires chew DEEP RUTS into the turf. Grass
flies in all directions.
Troy cuts the wheel, bounces down into a sand trap, kicking
up a spray of sand as he flies through.
Then he's out of the sand and up on the green. The Chevelle
catches the flag on its side mirror as he whips past.
TROY
Par for the course.
He cuts the wheel. The Chevelle explodes through some bushes,
drops over a curb onto the street, just ahead of the Porsche.
Unfortunately for Troy, Hector hops the curb. Driving half on
the street, half on the sidewalk, he squeezes past Troy,
disappears around a curve.
Troy speeds after him, gains ground. Closer. And closer.
Hector spots a large TELEVISION TRANSMISSION TOWER up ahead
around a curve. He checks his rearview mirror. Sees nothing.
Troy pulls next to the pristine-looking Porsche. He’s got
some ponies, but so does Hector. He can’t get past.
He drops back, pulls in behind.
SLAM!
The Porsche shudders. Hector whips his head around, alarmed
SLAM!!
The Chevelle rams the back of the Porsche a second time.
HECTOR
Not cool, you wanker!
BAM!
Troy hits him again. The bumper separates from the 911, hangs
by a thread. But Hector stays ahead.
5
A malevolent frown crosses Hector’s face. He pulls a GUN from
his waist band, brandishes it.
Before he can get a clear shot, they enter the final corner,
closing on the TV tower and their arbitrary finish line.
In the curve, Troy bumps him again. Hector gets loose in the
corner, spins out in SQUEAL of brakes and burning rubber.
TROY
'Good night, John-boy.'
Troy rockets past to victory, checks his mirror, watches
Hector wrestle for control.
TROY
Was I not s’posed to bump draft in the
corners? My bad.
Up ahead, a TRUCK pulls out right in front of him.
Troy BRAKES, SWERVES HARD. Too late.
The Chevelle clips the truck, careens over the curb, takes
out a U.S. MAILBOX, hits a sloped concrete embankment, rolls
onto its roof, and smashes through the window of a FRIENDLY’s
ICE CREAM SHOP, comes to rest inside. The 8-Track CUTS OFF.
INT. FRIENDLY’S ICE CREAM SHOP - NIGHT
SILENCE...
Troy hangs upside down in his seat, held in place by his
racing harness.
He surveys the wreckage around him. Broken glass and smashed
tubs of ice cream everywhere. A small fire has started.
Fortunately, the place was closed- no people inside.
Naturally, he has his priorities in order...
TROY
Oh... my car!
FUEL VAPOR permeates the air, burning his throat. He releases
his harness, crashes into the roof.
TROY
Ow!
He urgently crawls from the wreckage.
6
EXT. FRIENDLY’S ICE CREAM SHOP - NIGHT
Troy clears the debris, stands. As he does, a TREMENDOUS
EXPLOSION destroys his beloved car- and incinerates the
remaining ice cream in this corner of suburbia.
Troy is thrown forward by the blast.
SMASH CUT TO:
Troy's sweat-lined face rises up in the darkness. He blinks,
clears the cobwebs from his brain.
INT. PRISON CELL - NIGHT
The dream still fresh, he reaches around, rubs his back- the
SCARS from the FLASH BURNS are still fairly pronounced.
He moves to the sink, splashes water in his face.
Next to the sink, a small “shelf” attached to the wall serves
as a desk. Resting on it are several books about modern race
car engineering.
Troy walks over to the window, peers into the moonlight
through the WIRE MESH cover. The WIRE MESH BEGINS TO VIBRATE.
MATCH CUT TO:
A MESH WINDOW NET VIBRATES as a stock car THUNDERS around a
track. We are in:
INT. BLAKE TASKER’S CAR - ATLANTA INTERNATIONAL RACEWAY - DAY
The thin mesh window net gives way to a POV out the window of
BLAKE TASKER's race car, blazing around a Superspeedway.
A THUNDEROUS ROAR from the Hemi engine fills the spartan
cockpit, which consists of 6 gauges, a shifter and a stick of
Big Red gum taped to the dash.
The driver, BLAKE TASKER (50s), wears 2 strips of duct tape
around his hands- better grip on the steering wheel.
Beneath his open-face helmet, Blake is a Patriarch with
graying hair and a weathered face. Focussed, but forbearing.
Competitive, yet compassionate. Driven, yet down to earth.
EXT. ATLANTA INTERNATIONAL RACEWAY - DAY
A DOZEN CARS THUNDER BY in fast succession. One of them is
Blake's 1976 Dodge Charger, #18.
7
SUPER: “Atlanta International Raceway, Atlanta, Georgia”
Blake wrestles the car through a turn, strains to catch the
lead pack a short distance in front of him.
Directly in front of Blake- a 1976 Ford Gran Torino, #20,
driven by GARRET MASON, Blake's chief rival.
These aren’t the cookie cutter cars of today. These are real
stock cars- custom built engines, roll cages and other mods,
but the bodies are practically off the showroom floor.
Blake drafts Mason, maneuvers for position. Exiting a turn,
he swings out on the straightaway and slingshots around him.
INT. BLAKE’S CAR - ATLANTA INTERNATIONAL RACEWAY - DAY
BLAKE
Signed, sealed, delivered.
EXT. ATLANTA INTERNATIONAL RACEWAY - PIT STALL - DAY
The PIT CREW all wear matching short-sleeve uniform shirts,
pants, baseball caps and tennis shoes. No fire suits. No
gloves. No safety helmets. This is primitive NASCAR.
COLLIN
(into radio)
All right, dad, you're in sixth!
Crew Chief, COLLIN TASKER (late 20s) sits atop the pit
station, radio headset over his ball cap, binoculars around
his neck, stopwatch in one hand, clipboard in the other.
COLLIN
(into radio)
We need two more. Beaman, how far from
fourth?
Next to him is BEAMAN (late 40s), Chief Engine Builder, also
with headset. They quickly go over numbers on the clipboard.
BEAMAN
(into radio)
Point seven six.
INT. BLAKE’S CAR - DAY
BLAKE
Screw that! I can see fourth! Collin, how
far am I from the leader?
8
EXT. ATLANTA INTERNATIONAL RACEWAY - DAY
The lead pack roars past, Blake brings up the rear.
ATLANTA TRACK ANNOUNCER (O.S.)
Blake Tasker has moved into sixth
position, right behind Buddy Baker.
He’s laying back, hunting the lead.
EXT. ATLANTA INTERNATIONAL RACEWAY - PIT STALL - DAY
The cars circle the track. Under the watchful eye of Collin
and the rest of the PIT CREW, Blake jockeys for position.
EXT. ATLANTA INTERNATIONAL RACEWAY - DAY
The lead pack races into turn two in tight formation. The car
in second place is running loose.
Its rear end WOBBLES and SLIDES to the high side. The driver
loses control and the car SPINS INTO THE WALL. The next car
can't avoid the collision, T-BONES THE DRIVER’s SIDE DOOR as
it slides back down the track.
EXT. ATLANTA INTERNATIONAL RACEWAY - PIT STALL - DAY
COLLIN
(raising binoculars)
Crash in turn two!
ATLANTA TRACK ANNOUNCER (O.S.)
Cale Yarborough hammered Austin Mack!
INT. BLAKE’S CAR - DAY
Smoke obscures the track. Blake can’t see a thing.
BLAKE
(into radio)
Where do I go? Hi or low?
EXT. ATLANTA INTERNATIONAL RACEWAY - PIT STALL - DAY
Collin cranes his neck, searching with the binoculars. Smoke
hides the sliding cars.
COLLIN
Can’t help ya. Just... stand on it!
9
INT. BLAKE’S CAR - DAY
BLAKE’S POV: Fourth place car tries desperately to avoid the
carnage, dives for the infield.
Blake floors it, drives high, toward the wall, narrowly
missing the tangle of metal as it slides down the banking.
In an instant, Blake is past the wreck.
IN THE PIT STALL-
COLLIN
Dad?
ON THE TRACK-
Traffic moves high to get around the wrecked cars sitting at
the bottom of turn two.
INT. BLAKE’S CAR / EXT. PIT STALL - DAY
BLAKE
Still with ya.
BEAMAN
There's your two. We're in fourth.
BLAKE
I hate moving up that way.
COLLIN
That's racing. Let's get you in, top off
the fuel.
(to the crew)
Get ready for a gas and go!
BLAKE (O.S.)
(over radio)
I need tires.
COLLIN
(scanning the other pits)
We'll give you tires if the leaders take
tires.
(to the crew)
Get ready! He's fixin' to pit!
"TIRES" (early 50s), as his nickname suggests, is one of the
pit crew responsible for prepping and changing tires.
He and his crew quickly move four tires into position. The
GAS MAN grabs a fuel can. They poise themselves to vault over
the wall. The gas man TAMPS OUT A CIGARETTE, FLICKS IT ASIDE.