…Fade in to
a scene of snowbound woods. Snow drizzles lightly from a low, overcast
sky. It’s impossible to tell the time of day, but it’s most likely late
afternoon. The camera pans up tree trunks and between rows of trees. The
scene is of stark contrasts, blacks and whites.
Movement
is seen in the middle distance. It resolves itself into a deer, with a
magnificent set of antlers, walking through the woods, having a fairly
difficult time making its way through the snow. The deer stops to paw at
the ground in order to dig up snow so as to find something to eat.
Camera
draws back to the perspective of a hunter looking through rifle sights
at the deer. Close up shot of a finger pressing on the trigger. Brief
visual of the butt recoiling against the shoulder as we hear the shot.
Camera jumps to deer, which convulses and drops, kicking weakly for a
moment. Blood is dark red, almost black, on the snow. Fade out…
…Fade
in to the forest at night. There is no sound, no illumination but faint
starlight. The snow has stopped. As the opening credits come on, we see
a yellow glimmer in the distance. The camera slowly zooms in on the
light, taking its time, moving between trees, circling slowly but coming
closer. The glimmer becomes yellow firelight seen through the window (sans
curtain) of a log cabin. The camera circles the cabin, slowly, and then
pans up top the roof. Under the eave hangs, securely tied, the body of
the deer. Snow has collected on the fur.
The
camera now comes round to the window and into the cabin. Before a
cheerful log fire sit four hunters. Their names may be Peter, Dick,
Willy Roy and Johnny (don’t miss the phallic overtones – it’s my belief
that most hunters have hang-ups about their masculinity). One (Willy
Roy) is a typical redneck, big, tough-looking, with a slight stubble and
squinting eyes. Dick is an immigrant of some sort (probably an Indian)
who has changed his name to try and become as American as possible. This
is also the reason why he came on the hunting trip at all – because
hunting is an American thing
to do. Johnny, the “protagonist”, is a stockbroker type from the city,
who comes out hunting in order to prove himself, to whom or for what
purpose he doesn’t really know. Peter is the oldest of the lot, black,
obviously affluent, and should look as much like Colin Powell as
possible (I really do not like Colin Powell. One of my favourite quotes is by Harry Belafonte: “A house slave is an insult to our race, Colin Powell.”)
As
the camera enters the room, sound begins. We hear voices, the hunters
talking among themselves. It becomes obvious that they are
near-strangers to each other, having arrived at the cabin together by
coincidence. They are talking about the day’s hunt, which is the first
and has gone reasonably well since they just arrived in the middle of
the day after leaving their vehicles at the parking lot outside the
forest. They have just the one deer, but are confident of getting
several more tomorrow.
Willy
Roy begins to talk of how he will bring his son the next time – the boy
is eleven years old, he says, and turning into a milksop. His mom
didn’t want to let him go this time but the next time, he swears, he
will bring the boy along and make him shoot, skin, and gut a deer – if
necessary he will “knock the old woman up the side of the head to show
who the boss is.”
As
he talks we may go into a flashback, showing the son, a good-looking
boy who prefers music and reading to guns and shooting. The boy ignores
Willy Roy, who is cleaning a gun. Willy Roy’s wife, faded and thin,
stands hipshot in the doorway of the room and remonstrates about
something – obviously the son and whether he should go on the hunt at
all. Finally Willy Roy gets up, disgusted, and leaves the room. The
camera focuses on a gun rack on the wall, loaded with weapons. Fade back
to the cabin.
Dick
says something, disjointedly, about what an honour it is to become an
American and to try and immerse himself in American culture, and Willy
Roy snickers audibly. Dick flushes. Willy Roy asks whether Dick had to
change his name to become an American as well. Is he perhaps willing to
change his sex as well, if required? Willy Roy says immigrants should be
sent back where they came, he’d had enough of them. Dick looks as if he
wants to say something but instead closes his mouth, looking furious.
Peter
breaks the awkward silence by inveigling against poor blacks, whom he
classifies as “black trash” – who, he says, are all lazy and shiftless
and prone to crime. He has worked to get where he is and he has earned
his success. He pays his taxes and employs people and he’s the living
proof that there is no racial discrimination and he has the right to
bear a gun. Not the black trash, who only know crime. Cut to shots of a
poor all-black neighbourhood of Queens, say, while Peter talks. Sound of Willy Roy snorting audibly. Peter talks of how blacks in New Orleans were looting instead of acting honourably and decently during Hurricane Katrina (cut to shot of New Orleans and close off with shot of black hip-hoppers).
Johnny,
feeling he must justify himself now, begins talking of the life of a
stockbroker – figures and forecasts, and how greed makes the world go
round (cut to shot of stock market building, crowds hurrying in, and
stockbrokers on the floor). Willy Roy stretches and yawns, not
attempting to conceal it. So Johnny talks about his girlfriend and how
she hated hunting and had broken up with him (cut to shot of pretty
young woman crying and punching a pillow, shouting at Johnny, something
like “How would you feel if someone shot at you?”) because she hadn’t
wanted him to come. Willy Roy says something like “So you were a big
tough man and came all the same, huh? So you like killing, do you? Gives
you a hard-on?” Johnny gets up and pushes Willy Roy, and looks
terrified at his own temerity. Willy Roy slams Johnny to the wall, the
other two break up the fight by physically drawing the two of them
apart, and the camera leaves the cabin to the silent woods again. A wolf
howls somewhere.
Fade out.
Fade
in to the cabin in early dawn. The hunters are about to leave. They
hold cups of steaming coffee and talk as they get their weapons and
equipment ready. Each wears a brightly coloured jacket, red or orange,
for identification. They are going off alone, since they aren’t really
partners. The camera will follow as they leave. Cut to long shots of the
forest. Hunters are seen, individually, in the distance and then are
lost to view. They fan out from the cabin, but – this is important – all
go roughly in the same direction.
Camera
focuses on Johnny, walking along to his “hide”. He carries his rifle in
the crook of his arm, the muzzle pointing downwards, and looks slightly
furious even now. But it is very cold, and snow flurries lightly along,
and camera closes on his face as he sniffs and wipes his nose with a
handkerchief. His breath is condensing on his nose. He mutters
inaudibly.
Long
shot of Johnny in his hide. He settles into position behind a rough
shelter of snow-covered brush, lays his gun down before him, and adjusts
his clothing. Flashback, in blurred focus, of girlfriend talking to
him, close up of her face smiling, then frowning, and then back to
extreme close up of Johnny’s eyes in the hide which suddenly are alert
and screwed up to see something. Some movement in the falling snow. He
reaches for the rifle; close up of his hands slipping the safety off,
working the bolt, and laying it along the line of his shoulder, fitting
the butt into his shoulder and sighting down the barrel. Camera draws
back to image of the woods, seen from a distance. There is the noise of a
gunshot, echoing faintly. An instant later, there is the noise of
another shot, and then another.
Camera
close-up of blood on the snow. The blood is trickling from an unseen
source, and spreads out in the snow, capillary action giving it a
spidery quality. Camera follows the line of blood up to a rifle lying on
its side, a gloved hand, then a sleeve and finally a shoulder in a red
jacket, and then pans up to the overcast sky. Head and shoulders appear
in the picture frame, looking down at the camera lens. It’s Johnny. He
stands looking down and an instant later is joined by Willy Roy in the
frame. They stand side by side, looking down. Camera angle changes to
vantage point from behind their shoulders, and they are looking down at
the body on the ground, which is Dick’s. He is dead, his eyes and mouth
open and a bullet entry wound in his forehead. There is a lot of blood
in the snow.
Willy
Roy and Johnny look at each other, and then down again. “Who killed
him?” asks one. “I didn’t,” says the other, and “Me neither, I heard the
shot and came to see,” says the first. There is the sound of another
shot in the distance and both of them start. Camera cuts back to long
shot of the two of them standing before the body. Cuts further back till
one can see them only vaguely through trees and snow. Fade out.
Fade
in to the image of a deer’s head being dragged through the snow,
leaving droplets of blood. Head catches on an obstruction and bounces
slightly. Camera cuts back to the image of the hunter, Peter, gun over
his shoulder, walking along dragging the deer behind him. He suddenly
comes to where the other two are still standing over the body.
Apparently they have been arguing over what to do. The camera catches
them looking at each other and the microphone gets some words about
there being no communication in this part of the woods, no radio or
mobile network. There has to be some way of getting through to the
police. One of them says that the body can’t be moved in any way. Peter
drops the deer and comes and stands beside them, looking at the body.
They tell him there has been an accident. He agrees, but asks which of
them had done this. He denies having fired more than one shot, the one
which killed the deer. Johnny also says he fired just the one shot, at a
deer, and missed. Willy Roy says nothing, but the camera shows a
close-up of him adjusting the sling of his rifle and a momentary
contemptuous smirk on his face. They talk about any other hunters who
might have accidentally shot Dick – but then they say this is the only
hunting cabin around and it’s very late in the season for there to be
other hunters. In any case they haven’t seen any.
Willy
Roy kneels on one knee, supporting himself with his rifle. He examines
the bullet wound and says as far as he can see this is from a (whatever
the appropriate calibre is) rifle. They all
have the same calibre rifle, used for deer hunting, as the other two
point out, so it’s not helpful. The only one with a different calibre
rifle was Dick, and he is dead.
“I’ll
drive out and get help,” says Peter. The other two look at each other
and at him. Willy Roy says he will stay with the body for the time being
so as to see it’s not disturbed. Johnny says that he will go to see if
he can locate any other hunter’s camp and come back to relieve Willy Roy
in a while. Peter exits – dragging the deer carcass behind him. “Do you
have to take that?” one of them calls. Peter waits for an instant,
doesn’t say anything – just throws a look back at them over his shoulder
– and then walks on. Johnny exits in a slightly different direction.
Willy Roy stands where he is, looking thoughtfully at them. Camera fades
out as he is seen from a middle distance, rubbing one hand up and down
the stock of his rifle.
Fade
in to the wall of the cabin. Snow has collected between the logs, on
the upper surfaces of the bulge of the logs. The camera pans up to the
frozen corpse of the first deer, and then slowly round to the door. A
brief image of a gloved hand (is
it Johnny’s hand, or someone else’s?) fumbling at the door handle.
Then, from fairly close by, a shot, and another just afterwards. Camera
tracks round very quickly, like someone looking around, at the forest.
It tracks into the forest with the jerky motion of someone running as
fast as he can through fairly deep snow. There is a noise of panting,
and steaming breath seen in the camera frame.
Camera
focuses on dead deer’s head, and then, lying across the deer’s neck,
Peter’s head. He lies dead across the body of the deer he was towing.
Virtually simultaneously, running, Johnny and Willy Roy appear on the
scene and look wildly, accusingly, at each other. “It was you,” says
Johnny. “You killed them both.” Willy Roy wastes no time on words, just
chambers a round and begins to raise his rifle. Johnny manages to knock
the barrel aside with his own gun butt just as Willy Roy presses the
trigger, the bullet misses and the echoes mix with the panting as they
fight, using their guns as clubs. Willy Roy knocks Johnny flat on his
back with Johnny unconscious, his head against the roots of a big tree.
Johnny’s eyes are closed. Willy Roy aims at his head (camera shot from
middle distance, Willy Roy standing over Johnny and aiming) and tries to
press his trigger, but something has gone wrong with his gun and it
doesn’t fire. He raises the gun by the barrel to smash Johnny’s head
(camera angle from underneath), but Johnny’s eyes flicker and he presses
his trigger by reflex action (close-up of Johnny’s finger on the
trigger). A spot of blood appears on Willy Roy’s face and slowly he
topples over backward, dead. Johnny sits up and gasps for breath,
looking around him at the three corpses. He gets up awkwardly, stumbles
briefly, and then almost staggers as he goes on through the forest.
Camera draws back to see him in middle and then in long focus, walking
slowly through the woods.
Cut
to a parking lot not too far from the highway, but still inside the
forest, with a track leading to it. Four cars are parked there, all much
covered in snow, two (obviously Peter’s and Willy Roy’s) will be SUVs
and the other two normal small cars. Johnny emerges from the forest, and
– by now walking straight and confidently – goes to his vehicle. He
stretches his hand towards the door of his car, the key in his hand.
Close up of his hand.
The
sound of a gunshot comes simultaneously with the image of a bullet
smashing into the door near his hand. He jumps back and tries to run.
There is another shot, snow spurts up near his boot, and as he turns to
run there is a third shot and he screams and falls on his face, hit in
the spine, dropping his gun. Camera angle from above him, showing him
crawling on the parking lot, leaving a wide blood trail. Close up of his
face, distorted, gasping. He tries to reach the cover of the trees. He
is almost there when there is another shot and he screams again, rolling
over, his hands clutching his lower belly.
Cut
to the background of forest. A figure emerges from the forest, dressed
in thick white clothing as camouflage, with face and head covered,
carrying a gun with a telescopic sight. It walks slowly over to Johnny
and stands looking down at him. Close up of a gloved hand reaching up,
removing scarf covering the face, and stripping off the thick woollen
cap. Dark hair drops loose. It’s Johnny’s girlfriend, the one whom he
had dumped because she had opposed his hunting. Close up of Johnny’s
face, mouth falling open in shock as he recognises her. The image of his
mouth and of her gun barrel being shoved into his mouth.
Camera
angle now from Johnny’s viewpoint, looking up the barrel of the gun
towards his girlfriend’s face at the end of the barrel, sighting down
the barrel at him. “How do you like being hunted, Johnny?” she says, and
pulls the trigger.
The screen goes black at the sound of the shot and end credits roll.
Copyright B Purkayastha 2007
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