Thursday, August 6, 2015

Blackthorne, Scene 43


image by Lalia Jamaica


Blackthorne

Cinemagenic Forty-Three

Toque

The guitar is a small orchestra. It is polyphonic. Every
string is a different color & different voice.”
--Andres Segovia.

1(two-shot) the two entered the establishment through a sturdy oaken
door, with an Aztec calendar's symbols carved in the middle of it.
2(sound cue) heavy door, creaky hinges, several voices, a woman laughing
& glasses clinking.
3(medium wide shot) the interior of the cantina as the two men walk in, with
the Eagle in the lead.
4(reverse shot) their backs to the camera; the walls were gray-yellow adobe
with a foot wide orange stripe, like a painted ribbon near the ceiling, no
windows, with an earthen straw-covered floor. There was a modest half-bar
with a jack pine plank top, no railing, no stools, & two clay spittoons.
5(sound cue) soft tweets on a trumpet & clarinet.
6(dolly shot) approaching the bar. Behind the bar was a short, but husky,
Mexican, with a brown towel draped on one shoulder.
7(medium close-up) He had a rope-burn scar on his muscular neck, his hair
was shiny black, worn Apache-long, tied in back, with Indian bangs, a droopy
thin mustache grew like wild grain over his upper lip, partially covering his
bad teeth as he smiled.
8(reverse medium wide shot) his back to the camera as the men walked up.
9(sound cue) soft castanets & Indian seed rattle.
10(three-shot) angle on the bartender;
--El Aguila! Welcome, do you want mescal?
11(reverse shot) angle on Johnny:
--No gracious, Mateo--today is whisky. I have money from Graff. Bring the
bottle to us.
--Mateo: Se, Graff, one gorda bendejo.
--Johnny: Sure, sure, one sad pinche hijo de puta.
12(sound cue) Spanish guitar, sweet strumming chords.
13(cut to overhead crane shot) the Cantina had ten round tables of varying
sizes, with well worn wicker chairs. Three well-dressed charros sat at a table
in the back, while several mestizo peasant farmers, still wearing huge straw
sombreros over their silent tanned faces, sat at other tables, sipping their sweet
mescal. Johnny & Buck walked up to a large table near the wall under a peeling
faded colorful mural of a bullfighter. 
14(medium two shot) at floor level; a young handsome charro sat on the sooty
ledge of the cold fireplace, playing a beautiful guitar, his soulful eyes met those
of an older buxom whore who was sitting next to him, one of her fleshy hands
on his shoulder, one sculpted foot perched on another chair, a bracelet 
of tiny silver bells around her ankle. She wore a big ruby ring on the third
finger. She smiled at the two newcomers, but her lids were partly-closed,
with her head slightly back, listening to the music, & the young cowboy
humming soft & low. 
15(sound cue) a string of beads colliding, a tambourine shaking.
16(medium tight shot) a colorful beaded curtain being flung aside by a
young saloon señorita standing with her arms on her hips in the dim
smoke. She glided into the room & headed right for their table. 
17(medium close up) Johnny grinning & Buck smiling.
18(four-shot) Mateo arrived with a dusty brown bottle of whiskey & three
glasses at the precise moment the lovely cantina bird did. 
--the young whore: sliding smoothly onto Johnny’s lap:
--Cogeme, muy hombre.
18(angle on Mateo) That’ll be four bits for the burn. 
19(sound cue) soft coronet. 
20(close-up) Johnny plunked a new silver dollar onto the table. Mateo
scooped it up, flicking it with his thumb & smiling:
--And who is your big companero? 
21(three shot) over Mateo’s shoulder--
--Mateo Valdez meet Rod Buck.
22(close-up) Mateo: Ay Carumba!
23(three-shot) The two men shook hands. The Mexican’s grip was firm
as he smiled his bad smile & winked at Johnny.
--Mateo: So, he has come at last.
--Johnny: Se, he has come.
--Mateo: Good--& just in time.
24(sound cue) fast but subdued guitar strumming, soft snare drum beats.
25(cut to medium wide shot) Mateo drops a fifty cent piece on the table 
& walks away, still smiling.
26(three shot) the prostitute had wrapped her shapely arms around 
Johnny’s neck. Buck was silent, sipping his strong whiskey.
27(two-shot) with Johnny drumming his fingers on the table:
--Well, Liseta,my pretty bird, what is it you want from old Aguila?
28(close-up) Lisa’s hazel eyes shining, flashing her perfect white teeth:
--First your fine cock, & then your pesos. 
--Johnny: You really tempt me, woman, your scent is in my nose--but
please fly away--I must talk with this silent buffalo across the table.
29(sound cue) guitar, snare drum brushing, & Indian branch flute.


Glenn Buttkus

Posted over on dVerse Poets Pub OLN

Would you like to hear me read this cinemagenic poem to you?


20 comments:

Mary said...

Ah, this scene did not disappoint! And the adventure continues.

brudberg said...

Lots of flavor sin this wonderful scene.. And I guess business for Buck is really starting now. Compadres planning what to do with big bad.. Always nice to be treated with your narrative.

Sanaa Rizvi said...

I loved the choice of quote.. such a powerful write :)

Hayes Spencer said...

Excellent quote. When I took guitar, my teacher quoted this and lessoned me in each string and it's individual sound. And onward and upward to the big bad.

Madeleine Begun Kane said...

As always, I like who you use music to color your language.

Ken Higginson said...

This takes me back to my Arizona roots. love the old west. Thanks for sharing!

charliezero1 said...

Glenn, I think I might have told you this before.
You should write a screenplay and direct a movie.

This poem you have here is a movie for my eyes to see
and the wonderful colors and pictures you bring to the reader.

Love it! so much. :)

Heaven said...

Love the opening quote, musical instruments and scenery details of the cantina ~ Enjoyed this one Glenn ~

Grace

grace black said...

You have a knack for blending the arts. This is such a rich example of poetic narrative that doesn't know its poetry. Well done!

mrs mediocrity said...

I've missed this wonderful tale... Love the ongoing sense of drama and tension.... A saga to keep us coming back for more...

Rosemary Nissen-Wade said...

Great creation of atmosphere!

Marina Sofia said...

I could hear that insistent, ever more urgent strumming in my head as I was reading this. Very cinemagenic indeed, Glenn, and stopping on a cliffhanger, natch'...

scotthastiepoet said...

Greetings Glenn, What a rich tale you are spinning so lovingly and evocatively here - much respect for that and for the ambition of your vision too... With Best Wishes Scott

Beachanny said...

The guides to the use of music are most effective..it allows me to hear as well as read the scene. Thanks for your comments on my poem.

Jenny Herner said...

As always, I am there! I especially liked the mustache growing like wild grain!

Kate Mia said...

The beauty of your 'Cinemagenic' Poetry
IS IT takes one back to non-verbal
sensory feeling life..
rather than texting
it to death..
when actors
become more
real than players
of life.. the reality
you portray here is Truth
of past where humans are not
even
pArt
of a
play
or PlayLIFE...NOW..
Do you ever notice
(rhetorical
question.. i kNow
you do..;)
THAT in old films
everyone
sounds
like a
Poet
reciting
LIFE from
heArt rather
than just
living
a
Script
without
HeArt..
My 94 year
old Aunt who lived
in a world of story
taling before TV
and Radio at
ALL.. always
sounded
like a
Poem
ALIVE..
OH GOD i wanted
THAT so badNOW
THENin'08ah..
OHGOD i just
wanted to
LIVE like her
at 94.. and
NOWTHEGIFT
is mine.. she
was my YODA..
I could not talk
then..
but i listened
and NOW i
liVe
a Poem Play
as Well..:)
The GIFT
is not yet
DEAD..
thanks to
people who
still live IT
like YOU
and HER..:)

Victoria said...

Brilliant job with the descriptions in this, Glenn, from the door with the Aztec calendar to the characterization. I found my new most favorite expression: hijo de puta!

Kathy Reed said...

...cantina, Johnny, Buck, Matteo, whiskey, drumming fingers, bad teeth, guitar strumming, women laughing = equals a Glenn Buttkus rip-roaring Western action adventure scene in poetry form.

grapeling said...

this line! " a droopy thin mustache grew like wild grain over his upper lip"

fantastic. love this ongoing piece, Glenn - we get to savor the pace, like a fine strong whisky... ~

kaykuala said...

Behind the bar was a short, but husky, Mexican, with a brown towel draped on one shoulder. He had a rope-burn scar on his muscular neck, his hair was shiny black, worn Apache-long, tied in back, with Indian bangs, a droopy thin mustache grew like wild grain over his upper lip

Your description is fantastic. It is almost as though one is there looking at the specimens of different persons who are very much different from the ordinary. Great lines Glenn!

Hank