Film 250 Screenwriting: Character Profile
Character Profile
FILM 250 Screenwriting Assignment
Bill Black is the smoothest smooth talker you will ever come across. His words are like crimson mousse decked with strawberry, candy-coated hearts and a base of vanilla ice cream; they are delicious and devoured by any one that gets the luxury of getting close to him. It doesn’t matter if his words are wrong or--as usual--on-the-spot lies, or even the truth, which is seldom told; everybody listens and everybody believes.
It’s a shame the countless girls that have fallen for his charismatic ways and him knowing “just the right things to say.” In his path, there is a trail of broken hearts tossed to the side and never picked up again to be mended; Bill is the least capable of love.
He can see the multiple favors real women do for him; if he went to jail, he could have the most dedicated woman visiting him every week and putting money down on his books, but that would never be enough; it would never be appreciated by him. While he has that one girl caring for him, there’s another he makes a telecommunications call to, whispering the same sweet nothings into her ear. They would never know that they aren’t the “only ones.”
Being loved must be something entirely foreign to him, and returning the love is just impossible. He must be haunted by his childhood of horrors that are barely spoken of; it’s like picking thorns from a razor-sharp rose; you pry to close with questions and you’re made to retreat if the cut goes to deep. But loosen Bill up with some intoxicating substances of escape and maybe you’ll get that his mother and him argue and cuss as if the same blood doesn’t run through their veins, or that his mother and father would lock themselves in their bedroom and get high together as a seven-year-old Bill pounded on their door, his tummy eating at itself. You may even find out that his father owns a strip club that Bill has been around since he was ten years old, or he lives in a neighborhood that has the highest crime rate in Louisville; he might hint at his financial status by saying, “You would never know if I’m struggling, because I wouldn’t tell you or show you,” but never come clean. Anything that makes him appear less than a man, he doesn’t come close to depicting, even though the void is noticeable to any real woman.
The fact of the matter is: Bill is a broken individual, not even a man like he claims. His inability to love can easily be blamed on his dysfunctional past and family-life, but the main problem is himself. He finds pleasure in reeling people in, but letting them down when the surface is almost pierced through and feelings get too deep. But it’s never his feelings that has to be worried about, it’s the others who come in contact with him, because his feelings have been numbed; he looks out for himself.
FILM 250 Screenwriting Assignment
Bill Black is the smoothest smooth talker you will ever come across. His words are like crimson mousse decked with strawberry, candy-coated hearts and a base of vanilla ice cream; they are delicious and devoured by any one that gets the luxury of getting close to him. It doesn’t matter if his words are wrong or--as usual--on-the-spot lies, or even the truth, which is seldom told; everybody listens and everybody believes.
It’s a shame the countless girls that have fallen for his charismatic ways and him knowing “just the right things to say.” In his path, there is a trail of broken hearts tossed to the side and never picked up again to be mended; Bill is the least capable of love.
He can see the multiple favors real women do for him; if he went to jail, he could have the most dedicated woman visiting him every week and putting money down on his books, but that would never be enough; it would never be appreciated by him. While he has that one girl caring for him, there’s another he makes a telecommunications call to, whispering the same sweet nothings into her ear. They would never know that they aren’t the “only ones.”
Being loved must be something entirely foreign to him, and returning the love is just impossible. He must be haunted by his childhood of horrors that are barely spoken of; it’s like picking thorns from a razor-sharp rose; you pry to close with questions and you’re made to retreat if the cut goes to deep. But loosen Bill up with some intoxicating substances of escape and maybe you’ll get that his mother and him argue and cuss as if the same blood doesn’t run through their veins, or that his mother and father would lock themselves in their bedroom and get high together as a seven-year-old Bill pounded on their door, his tummy eating at itself. You may even find out that his father owns a strip club that Bill has been around since he was ten years old, or he lives in a neighborhood that has the highest crime rate in Louisville; he might hint at his financial status by saying, “You would never know if I’m struggling, because I wouldn’t tell you or show you,” but never come clean. Anything that makes him appear less than a man, he doesn’t come close to depicting, even though the void is noticeable to any real woman.
The fact of the matter is: Bill is a broken individual, not even a man like he claims. His inability to love can easily be blamed on his dysfunctional past and family-life, but the main problem is himself. He finds pleasure in reeling people in, but letting them down when the surface is almost pierced through and feelings get too deep. But it’s never his feelings that has to be worried about, it’s the others who come in contact with him, because his feelings have been numbed; he looks out for himself.
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