This is the screen version to my novel, Further Than You Think. The novel, as much as has been written, is available via my profile. The novel doesn't need to have been read to understand the screen and vice versa, as they will probably follow on slightly different plots.

The two songs used in this beginning, 'Ziggy Stardust' and 'The Prettiest Star', both belong to David Bowie. Everything else belongs to me.

Further Than You Think

The Screenplay

1 INT. ROCK CONCERT, BACKSTAGE – NIGHT

On VIDEO: MEMBERS OF A BAND, sweaty and exhausted, sit in a row of folding chairs in a darkened hallway, leading off from the stage. ROBERT TERRACE, a British, handsome rock star in his early fifties, walks hurriedly but his face relaxed down the hallway, audio equipment in his ears. Throughout the scene, we can hear the AUDIENCE screaming ‘Encore!’ off-screen. Robert talks animatedly and loudly to the band members, before a stagehand taps him on the shoulders. Robert takes out the earpieces.

ROBERT: What…? Four songs ought to do it…. give them give a couple minutes… Yes! Go!

Robert keeps talking and his voice fades as we pull out to the final folding chair on which ALEXANDRA JONES, seventeen years old with long dark hair, sits, taking in everything with her eyes. Robert sees her and walks towards her.

Enjoying it?

Alexandra smiles.

ALEXANDRA: Just like always.

ROBERT: Brilliant.

Robert kisses Alexandra on the head, then walks back towards the stage, pushing back in the earpieces.

Let’s go!

Everyone stands to follow, but Alexandra.

Freeze frame.

ALEXANDRA (V/O): The first tour of the summer with Dad was always fantastic. The summers only got better from there on in.

2 INT. ROCK CONCERT, BACKSTAGE – NIGHT

On VIDEO: We see Robert and Alexandra standing together, Robert with an arm around her and several microphones held up in front of the pair. They are clearly being interviewed. The audience can still be heard, be less loudly.

INTERVIEWER (O/S): Mr. Terrace, what did you think of this evening’s performance?

ROBERT: Brilliant. Bloody brilliant. Always great to be back in London, anywhere in England, really. Band did their thing, audience pulled together. Something in the air.

INTERVIEWER (O/S): You’ve brought Lexie with you, we see.

On ‘Lexie’, the microphones shift to Alexandra, indicating that she is Lexie.

ROBERT: Yes, she’ll be along for the next forty something concerts, till the beginning of March.

INTERVIEWER (O/S): Another year, Lexie. Always more beautiful.

Alexandra blushes.

ROBERT: I think so.

3 EXT. ROCK CONCERT, PARKING LOT – NIGHT

On VIDEO: Robert, Alexandra and the band are walking quickly to an awaiting limo. Above them is a multi-storey car park, with those who were in the audience waving candles and singing ‘Ziggy Stardust’ throughout the scene. The back limo door is opened by JAMES DELANEY, Robert’s thirty-something manager, and the band crawls in. Alexandra and Robert are the last to crawl in and Robert turns to face the audience.

ROBERT: Thank you, and good night!

The audience goes crazy. Alexandra slides in to the limo.

POV ALEXANDRA. Robert and James smile down at her from the open door. The waving candles can be seen in the distance, sparkling, and the cheering is slowly being drowned out.

Freeze frame.

ALEXANDRA (V/O): This is my life. The music, the laughter, the bright lights, the luxuries. None of it will change. Everything I’ve ever known and loved is right here. Especially Dad. Dad will never change. Dad will always be here, someone for everyone to praise. Someone for me.

4 EXT. THE KIMBERLEYS – DAY

The stretch of the Kimberleys is quiet. A plane flies over heard in the sunrise of the sky, a pale run of smoke jetting out behind the plane.

RADIO SONG (V/O): One day… though it might as well be someday… you and I will rise up all the way… all because of what you are…

5 INT. CAR – DAY

Focus on the radio.

RADIO SONG (V/O, CONTINUED): The prettiest –

A woman’s long, pale finger with a perfectly manicured red nail presses the ‘off’ switch.

ALEXANDRA (O/S): I was listening to that.

Alexandra’s voice is monotone and lifeless.

NANCY (O/S): Hmm.

Pause. We’re still looking at the radio, now silent. The fingers points across the radio to something off-screen.

Lexie, relax. Your knuckles are turning white.

Slow pan across to the passenger’s lap. Hands clutch around a seatbelt down the girl’s chest, the knuckles white. The hands instantly let go of the seatbelt.

Pull out to see three people in the car. Alexandra sits in the passenger seat, and has just let go of the seatbelt. There are dark circles under her eyes and her hair, full of shine at the rock concert, is now limp and stringy. NANCY TERRACE, her thirty year old stepmother, sits at the wheel. She is the picture-perfect mother – perfectly waved red hair, bright green eyes, clear pale skin, wearing a white sundress. Like Bree in Desperate Housewives. Between them in the back seat sits SARAH TERRACE, three years old in a lace dress, chatting animatedly to herself with no notice of what’s going on around her.

Nancy’s voice is, in no way, soothing.

NANCY: It’s not going to be all bad. They’ll probably just ask you a few questions.

Pause. Alexandra leans forward to switch back on the radio and Nancy glares at her. Alexandra stops and leans back in her seat.

ALEXANDRA: That’s all?

NANCY: That’s all what?

ALEXANDRA: Do they just ask some questions?

NANCY: Sometimes they prescribe medication, if they think you need it.

ALEXANDRA: Antidepressants?

Alexandra stares at Nancy, who is suddenly extremely focused on the road. Nancy makes it clear she’s not going to respond.

6. EXT. CARPARK – DAY

The car pulls to a stop beside what seems to be a house, but with a long car park beside it.

ALEXANDRA (V/O): Something like Prozac.

7 INT. PSYCHIATRIC OFFICE – DAY

Alexandra sits in a comfortable leather chair in the middle of the room, bored. A desk with papers sits in front of her, behind that an identical chair and behind that, bookcases. The walls are pink.

Alexandra’s voice is still monotone and lifeless.

ALEXANDRA (V/O): I am at the centre for fucked minds because people are concerned.

The sound of a door opening is heard and we look from Alexandra’s POV to see a youngish, smiling WOMAN in the doorway, holding a manila folder.

And here’s the person to make everything go away.

The woman closes the door and walks over to the desk, still smiling a plastic, I-Truly-Do-Care smile, and puts down the manila envelope. She holds her hand out to Alexandra.

ELLIE: Alexandra Jones? I’m Ellie, the psychiatrist.

Alexandra doesn’t take the woman’s, now known as ELLIE, hand.

Ellie sits in the chair behind the desk and opens the manila envelope. She looks at the papers as Alexandra looks at her blankly. Ellie looks up at her and smiles.

Do you mind if I call you Lexie, rather than Alexandra?

ALEXANDRA: No.

ELLIE: You can call me Ellie.

ALEXANDRA: Don’t you have a surname?

ELLIE: Of course, why?

ALEXANDRA: Don’t doctors usually go by their surnames?

ELLIE: Yes, but I like to be on first-name basis with my patients. I believe that way we can speak as friends, rather than patient and doctor.

Alexandra stares at her.

So, Lexie, how are you?

ALEXANDRA: Fine.

ELLIE: So why are you here?

ALEXANDRA: The school counsellor said for me to come.

ELLIE: You’re Robert Terrace’s daughter, aren’t you?

ALEXANDRA (V/O): One of the first questions. Always.

Alexandra smiles slightly.

ALEXANDRA: Yes. I can’t exactly get you an autograph.

Ellie smiles back at Alexandra.

ELLIE: You’ve been through a lot, these past few weeks, haven’t you?

Alexandra and Ellie stare at each other for a moment.

ALEXANDRA (V/O): And I realise, that just like with Dad, I can’t lie to Ellie.

ALEXANDRA: You could say that.

ELLIE: I could. Or would it be more adequate to say that your world has been tipped upside-down?

Pause.

ALEXANDRA (V/O): Damn her. Pass Go and collect 200.

Slowly, Alexandra bows her head and buries her face in her hands. Ellie leaves her chair and puts an arm around Alexandra’s shoulders, comforting.

POV Alexandra’s lap. We see, through the gaps of her fingers, that Alexandra’s eyes are dry and cold.

I didn’t cry at the funeral and I won’t cry now.