Lemuria

a film by Scott S. Maddix

The film opens in a dream. The camera is speeding through a New York city street. It as if the viewer is traveling at high speed above the street, perhaps from the POV of a bird or a spirit. The path turns and dodges lamp posts, and finally enters the front door of a hospital, careening up a flight of stairs, through a pair of swinging double doors, and right into the face of a young intern sleeping in a linen closet. Her eyes a vibrant green flash open in surprise, and the screen goes dark. The sound of the spirit's passing (for that is what it is) is the sound of wind, with the natural sounds of the city only faintly heard underneath (drums, perhaps?). The intern's gasp is heard clearly. 

The opening credits start in the darkness, but it doesn't last long. A slow, slow fade-in is accompanied by the steady increase of tropical nat. sound: birds, bugs, and vague, mysterious patterings. The view we see is an ECU of a woman's face. It is a woman of regal beauty with dark skin and hair: HATSHEPSUT. Even in her faintly-troubled sleep, we see she must be a woman of some authority. As the fade-in ends, her eyes a vibrant green open. The camera pulls back, and we see the rest of her, and her surroundings. She is dressed in a vaguely Roman long-tunic, of a sheer, flimsy material trimmed in gold. Her hair is elegantly plaited, and she has been lying in a bed of plush cushions with tassels at the corners. The room is filled with furnishings of marble and onyx, jade, and gold, and plants grow in marvelously decorated terra cotta pots. The windows are protected by elaborate iron grates, and a folding screen stands in the corner. Outside the window is a lush garden or a jungle. Small, winged lizards flit about in the vegetation. As she rises, a naked slave a girl about sixteen attends to her, and her troubled look fades as her memory of the dream evaporates. It is mid-afternoon. 

HATSHEPSUT— Calpurnia, I've had the strangest dream. 

CALPURNIA—Yes, Lady? 

HATSHEPSUT—Only, the queer thing is, I can't remember any of it.

CALPURNIA—Do you want me to summon an Interpreter? 

HATSHEPSUT—No, no. I've had these dreams before. They fade so fast, I'm sure they mean nothing.

CALPURNIA—Yes, Lady. Would you like your breakfast in the courtyard, Lady?

HATSHEPSUT—(Thinking) No, Calpurnia. I'm fasting. After I bathe today, I'm going to the mountain.

CALPURNIA—You're going on a Belfahr, Lady?  

HATSHEPSUT—Yes. Yes, I will.

CALPURNIA —But, Lady, you are the Protector, not a Seer! 

HATSHEPSUT—The seers aren't doing their job, Calpurnia. Besides, my father was a Seer.

CALPURNIA—And your mother was a Healer, Lady, but it would be unwise for you to perform surgery.

HATSHEPSUT— Nevertheless, Cal, I will go on a Belfahr. There are questions that must be answered, and it seems I'm the only one that is willing to do what is necessary. 

DISSOLVE TO: BATHING HOUSE

The bathing house is an extension of the main home. The walls are an open grid of stone twined with flower-bearing vines. Six naked young slaves, three male and three female, are bathing HATSHEPSUT. CALPURNIA oversees the operation. 

CALPURNIA— How long will your Belfahr last, Lady?

HATSHEPSUT—(Allowing herself to be bathed, dried and oiled by the slaves, and idly caressing their sleek bodies) Until I learn something. All signs point to something great on the horizon, Calpurnia, and I mean to understand it before it comes. 

CALPURNIA—Shall I accompany you, Lady?

 HATSHEPSUT—Now, Calpurnia, you know that's not how it's done. 

CALPURNIA—Yes, Lady. (Pause) Only I know how you hate to sleep alone.

HATSHEPSUT—I think I can handle a cold bed for a while, Cal. But thanks for thinking of me. (Caresses her cheek)

CALPURNIA—(Smiling) Yes, Lady. Now lie still.

HATSHEPSUT is led to a soft couch where she reclines and closes her eyes.  While the slaves vigorously massage her and rub unguents into her skin. She moans appreciatively under their ministrations. After a few deep breaths, she rises.

HATSHEPSUT—Cal, I'm going to visit the Chamber before I go, so dress me for High  Formal, but pack my traveling gear in the luggage. 

CALPURNIA—Yes, Lady. 

While the slaves clean up the room CALPURNIA leads HATSHEPSUT into another room, and she is carefully coifed and dressed. Her eyes are given stylized lines of kohl in a vaguely Egyptian style. CALPURNIA uses toilet instruments of silver and crystal. As she approaches a counter covered in oddly-shaped glass bottles filled with perfumed oils, HATSHEPSUT gestures. 

HATSHEPSUT—Cal, mix me a scent that accentuates my youth. I think I may need an edge over that old lech today. 

CALPURNIA—Yes, Lady.

DISSOLVE TO: 

EXT: THE WAY OF ASCENSION

HATSHEPSUT, accompanied by a porter carrying her baggage (a naked slave of middle age), climbs a gently sloping road to a Romanesque temple on a hill overlooking the city. The buildings are Romanesque, and splayed across the countryside in large estates. She enters the round Chamber, crossing the empty, echoing space with confidence, her sandals barely making a sound. She passes through a doorway in the back. Beyond is a library, with an aged man in a slightly ratty toga seated behind a table, backed by a map of the world. The map is centered on Lemuria. A slave of either gender stands at each corner of the back wall. The old man, Valchor, rises at her approach.

VALCHOR—Lady Hatshepsut, how nice of you to come. 

HATSHEPSUT—Lord Valchor. The pleasure is mine. Have any of your seers found anything?

VALCHOR—You come right to the point, don't you? No time for the civilities and pleasant chat that help a man of my age pass the time. Nonetheless, you still warm my bones, my dear, you still warm my bones.

HATSHEPSUT—And you still avoid answering my question.

VALCHOR— I have this feeling, Lady, that as soon as you find what you are seeking you will leave us. I hesitate to rush that eventuality.

HATSHEPSUT—Nevertheless, I call on you to complete the function of your office, Valchor.

VALCHOR—Tut, tut, my dear. Every seer in Lemuria from the Ancient One to the least apprentice sees the same thing. You would see it too, if you would only look. A Cataclysm is brewing, and not far off. And you know as well as I that such things cannot be predicted in any detail.

HATSHEPSUT—Slop. It can be seen, and if your venerable self weren't such a coward, you would do your job for the benefit of the rest of us.

VALCHOR—Now, Lady, calm yourself. (to male slave) Timor, fetch the Lady some wine. (To HATSHEPSUT) Now, as the Healer would tell you if she were here, you need to relax. It's not this healthy to remain this worked up.

HATSHEPSUT—It comes with the job.

VALCHOR—Yes, yes, I suppose it does. Still, I don't recall the previous Protector being quite this high strung . . . 

HATSHEPSUT—(accepting the wine from TIMOR) My predecessor wasn't faced with a world Cataclysm within his tenure.

VALCHOR—We don't know it will be that soon. 

HATSHEPSUT—I'm going on a Belfahr, Valchor. I had hoped you would have something for me so that it wouldn't be necessary . . . 

VALCHOR—Surely that's not necessary. It's highly irregular for the Protector to take a Belfahr. Who will hold your office in your absence? 

HATSHEPSUT—That's the other reason I came to you. 

VALCHOR—Me? Surely you jest! My duties, my —

HATSHEPSUT—No, you old fool. Your second, what's his name, Kantrel? You can spare him for a couple weeks.

VALCHOR—Well . . . 

HATSHEPSUT—Besides, he was my apprentice before you stole him away. 

VALCHOR—There you go, accusing me of things again.

HATSHEPSUT—Agh. You old fraud, it's a small thing I ask you for . . . 

VALCHOR—You know, sweet one, (gestures to the map) the Northmen have a saying, "Tal-nek ton, Mif-nek chal." Do you know what it means? 

HATSHEPSUT—Sorry. I never learned Northman.

VALCHOR—It means, "The left hand washes, then the right hand washes." Get it? 

HATSHEPSUT—I hate to ask. 

VALCHOR—It means if I help you, you help me. Simple. Fair. 

HATSHEPSUT—What do you want? 

VALCHOR—Now, don't look at me like that, Hatshepsut. I mean nothing unseemly.  Just, when you return, you might look favorably on me should what you learn be . . . 

HATSHEPSUT—Useful to an old lech like you. All right, Valchor. Though I may not have anything to share. 

VALCHOR— I know, I know. But you are honorable, I know. If there is anything, you will remember your promise. 

HATSHEPSUT—You know I will, Valchor. Send Kantrel over to my place this afternoon. Calpurnia will show him the ropes. 

VALCHOR—I don't doubt it. He's a handsome young man. Perhaps you'll decide to keep him?

HATSHEPSUT—I wouldn't do that to you, old man. Besides, it may not matter so . . . 

VALCHOR—You worry too much. 

HATSHEPSUT—I hope so. I'm off, Valchor. Wish me good fortune. 

VALCHOR—You know I do, Lady, for all our sake.

HATSHEPSUT—Good-bye, Valchor.

VALCHOR—Hurry back. The Festival is in only four days' time. 

HATSHEPSUT—"The Festiv . . . .." For someone of your position and age, you sure have strange priorities. 

VALCHOR—Good-bye, my dear.

HATSHEPSUT nods and leaves, her porter trailing behind. 

DISSOLVE TO:  EXT: 
 

HATSHEPSUT is riding in her carriage, a pensive look on her face. The carriage is climbing a mountain. The carriage pulls into a courtyard in front of a huge stone monastery halfway up the mountain, at the line where the vegetation stops. In the mists of the jungle, the monastery looks ominous and full of mystery. The entrance is a huge portcullis within a Roman arch. 

As HATSHEPSUT alights from the carriage and accepts her baggage from the coachman, the portcullis rises with a groan, and she enters. The coach leaves. Inside, a waterfall empties into a pool, and a path of worn stone leads to another opening, right through the building. HATSHEPSUT undresses and ritually bathes in the pool. When she emerges, dripping from the pool, she approaches a box set against the wall near the exit and opens it. From inside she takes a packet of herbs and places it inside her pack. She packs her clothes, then solemnly leaves through the back exit, which leads to a path up the bare stone of the mountain. The entire area is still shrouded in mist.

DISSOLVE TO:  EXT: A CLEARING NEAR THE TOP OF THE MOUNTAIN 

HATSHEPSUT is kneeling on the ground, building a fire. When it's going, she throws herbs from the packet into the fire and breaths the vapors. Her eyes close and suddenly we see the New York street zoom, as in the opening, with drums, right up to the intern's awakening.

This time, the camera stays with her and she gasps awake, looks at her watch, and rushes from the linen closet. Her name is TAMMY, and she's a mousy woman in her early twenties, hesitant in all she does, and fearful of rejection. She rushes up to the nurse's station and grabs a clipboard from its peg. 

NURSE—Late for your rounds again, eh, Tammy?

TAMMY—Yeah.

TAMMY rushes down the corridor and into a room. The patient within is a crotchety old man with an IV drip in his arm.

PATIENT—Some doctor you're gonna be, hon'. Sleepin' on the job. 

TAMMY—(Trying to get a blood pressure cuff on his arm) Now sit still, Mr. MacArthur, so I can get a reading. 

PATIENT—Bah. What's the use? 

TAMMY—What do you mean?

PATIENT—This place is shit. They don't even send me a real doctor. I'll probably get sicker here. 

TAMMY—First, Mr. MacArthur, you're not going to die here. All you have is a bad flu, and it's almost gone already. Second, I may not be a doctor yet, but I'm more than trained enough to take your blood pressure. If you'll sit still, that is. 

PATIENT—Bah. (He lets her take her reading) 

TAMMY takes her reading and makes a note of it on the PATIENT's chart. Not another word is said until she is almost out the door.  

PATIENT—Who ever heard of a girl being a doctor, anyway?

She lets this one slide and leaves. We DISSOLVE TO another room where she is taking another reading for another patient. Suddenly a code red is announced over the PA. Mr. MacArthur has died. She registers shock and rushes from the room. Mr. M.'s room is filled with doctors and nurses. The flatline tone can be distinctly heard.  

DOCTOR—Well, he's gone. 

We see a CU of TAMMY's face. She is shocked, on the verge of tears. She drops her clipboard and rushes from the hospital. This is too much. Still in her whites, she rushes into the night and into a park, to sit on the park bench in shock. Even in the midst of weeping, after a while she falls asleep again. As soon as she is asleep, we are suddenly flying up the mountainside, and stop at HATSHEPSUT's face. Her eyes fly open.

HATSHEPSUT—Oh, my god. 

DISSOLVE TO: INT. HATSHEPSUT'S HOME 
It is night. KANTREL, the dashing young apprentice who is filling in for HATSHEPSUT in her absence, is having a party at her house. And a particularly decadent party it is. Guests lounge on couches and cushions and are served by slaves from large brass platters. Musicians are playing something exotic, and the atmosphere is very sensual. There is much caressing of flesh and sybaritic joy taken in the wine, the food, the smoke of a hookah, the music, and, above all, the touch and smell of young flesh. ENTER HATSHEPSUT, followed by her porter, looking harried. 

HATSHEPSUT—Kantrel?

KANTREL—Hatshepsut? What are you doing back so early?

HATSHEPSUT—I thought the festival wasn't for another four days. 

KANTREL—I can explain, Lady Protector. 

HATSHEPSUT—Save it, Kantrel. I'm not back for good and you're still filling in. If you want to use the Protector's Manse to throw a party, that's fine, so long as the Protectorate doesn't suffer. 

KANTREL—Never, Lady. What brings you back? 

HATSHEPSUT—(Dashing for a tray of food) Hunger, Kantrel, and a need. I need desperately for someone to talk to, someone to tell me I am not going mad. Someone to help me make sense of the things I've seen.

KANTREL—Well, uh, all right. Shall I send someone for the Seer? Or an Interpreter? What are your needs, Lady? 

HATSHEPSUT—Actually, Kantrel, I was hoping I could borrow you from your banquet for a while. 

 KANTREL—Absolutely, Lady. You've had one Roman orgy, you've had them all. 

HATSHEPSUT—I wouldn't say that . . . You've thrown yourself quite an event here. Is my room empty?

KANTREL—Yes. 

HATSHEPSUT—(to a passing slave) Fetch Calpurnia to my bedroom.

SLAVE—Yes, Lady. 

HATSHEPSUT grabs an armful of food and heads for her room. 

DISSOLVE TO:  INT.: HATSHEPSUT'S ROOM

Hatshepsut, and Kantrel settle onto the cushions. Calpurnia remains standing. 

CALPURNIA—Is there anything I can get for you, Lady?  

HATSHEPSUT—No, Calpurnia. I asked you here because I wanted you to hear what I had to say. (Gestures) Come here.

CALPURNIA—Yes, Lady.

CALPURNIA joins HATSHEPSUT on her cushions. As she talks, HATSHEPSUT wraps her arms around her slave. 

HATSHEPSUT—It was the strangest thing I've ever seen.

Back to Works in Progress

Back to Haven Home