John Wick writer Derek Kolstad, directors Chad Stahelski and David Leitch, released by Summit and its parent company Lionsgate
Scream writer Kevin Williamson and director Wes Craven, released by Dimension Films and its then parent companies Miramax and The Walt Disney Company
Inglourious Basterds writer/director Quentin Tarantino, released by The Weinstein Company (U.S.) and Universal (international)
True Romance writer Quentin Tarantino and director Tony Scott, released by Warner Bros.
The Princess Diaries writer Gina Wendkos and director Garry Marshall, base on the book of the same name by Meg Cabot, released by The Walt Disney Company
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Never Go Hunting For Wolves
Chapter 1: The Ghost's Lament
Rating: G/PG as a one shot, probably a hard R if continued.
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The year is 1996 and two men are holding polite, even friendly, if maudlin conversation in the manager's office of a well appointed New York hotel. The older man is in his early 50's, 53 or 54 years old. When standing he would reach a height of 5'9" with fair skin, almost jet-black hair and pale blue eyes. This man is Winston, manager of the New York branch of the Continental, one of a few hotels for the discriminating sort of hired killer. The younger of the two men is 6'1" in height, with a graceful and athletic build, dark-brown eyes, not-quite boyishly handsome features with fair complexion, medium-length black hair and fine-stubble on his chin, cheeks and around his lips. To his fellow members of the criminal underworld he's The Bogeyman, Baba Yaga, Los Spettro, The Ghost or even Death's Very Emissary. But to his friends and loved ones he's simply John or Jonathan. This is the man, the myth, the legend, John Wick.
"So, Jonathan," Winston says in a sympathetic, almost mournful tone, "it's been almost a year since your aunt's brutal murder. How are you holding up so far?"
"'Bout as well as can be expected Winston." replies the world's deadliest and most infamous contract-killer, under currents of profound sorrow and bloodthirsty rage pouring into his words. "You know," John Wick says tearfully, while setting down the glass of bourbon he'd been nursing for about 15 minutes, "or maybe you don't, but you should. Even though she was my aunt, being only 10 years older than me, Maureen was more like a big sister to me. Now she's dead... " Now John is doing the one thing none outside his close friends and family have ever seen him do, weep openly. He regains just enough composure to say, “her husband Neil lost his wife and their daughter, my cousin, Sidney has to grow up without her mother being there for her.”
“Ah, you forget Jonathan,” Winston calmly replies to him, with all the compassion and fatherly warmth he can muster, “I did meet your aunt Maureen once, over four years ago, when she, her husband and their daughter, your cousin Sidney, came here to visit you. Part of why I remember was your insistence that I set aside a suite in this very establishment for them.” Never breaking eye contact with John, Winston's eyes begin to tear up slightly as he forms a sad soft smile, “She was a truly good and kind person Jonathan and she genuinely loved you as if you were her brother. Then some monster ripped her away from you and the rest of her family.”
“Yes, that's all true, Maureen was one of the best of us,” John said with bittersweet smile on his lips and with a touch of melancholy to his voice, “All the family was there from great grandpa Aldo to aunt Helen Thermopolis and her little girl Mia from San Francisco. Even cousin Floyd from L.A. was there, stoned out of head of course,” John says with a chortle, “but he took the time to make it out to Woodsboro for the funeral in the first place. That's all that really counts, isn't it?” He takes another sip of bourbon before setting it back on the glass table top. “The worst part of the whole funeral,” John Wick says, “was having to pull little Mia off her aunt's casket as it was being lowered into the ground and hearing her begging 'Aunt Maureen, please get up! You have to get up!' and explaining to her aunt is dead and what that means.”
“For God's sake, she was just 10 years old, she didn't know what death means! So now she had to come to terms her aunt's death, the fact that she was murdered and the fact that this sort of, pure evil exists.” John is saying, now boiling over with rage and grief. “Then here I was, holding tightly onto cousin Mia and trying to comfort her the best I can, all the while I'm thinkin' about hunting down the monsters who butchered aunt Maureen and killing them with my bare hands!”
Looking down to his glass topped coffee table Winston says, “You really don't think that Cotton Weary murdered your aunt, do you now Jonathan?”
“No Winston, I don't think Cotton Weary killed aunt Maureen,” John says solemnly, “he's a sleazy, disgusting creep and a scumbag, but he's not a cold-blooded killer. Someone murdered Maureen and framed Cotton Weary by leaving fake evidence behind for Sidney and the Woodsboro sheriff’s office to find. It's bad enough, vile enough that these monsters torture and murder aunt Maureen, but even worse, they duped my cousin into helping them get away with it! Now,” John Wick says, “they're stalking her, threatening her and terrorizing her just days from her mother's murder. They already murdered two of her classmates and left their mutilated corpses out on display!” Pausing to catch his breath John says, “That's why I'm leaving for Woodsboro, California tonight.”
“Then go, Jonathan,” Winston says, “keep your cousin and her friends safe and track down the vicious beasts who attacked your family. Take all the time you need.”
“Thanks Winston and I will.” John says as he stands from the black leather couch opposite Winston and heads towards the door to the lobby. “My suitcases are in the lobby, I'll just call up a cab to LaGuardia and load them in.”
“Nonsense,” Winston calls out. “I'll have Charon drive to LaGuardia, after Continental staff loads your luggage for you. I'll even pay for your airfare out of pocket. It's the least I can do.”
“Thanks,” says John, nodding respectfully towards Winston, before turning his back and exiting for the hotel lobby.
Smiling wistfully Winston says as John leaves, “Happy hunting, Mr Wick.”
Scream writer Kevin Williamson and director Wes Craven, released by Dimension Films and its then parent companies Miramax and The Walt Disney Company
Inglourious Basterds writer/director Quentin Tarantino, released by The Weinstein Company (U.S.) and Universal (international)
True Romance writer Quentin Tarantino and director Tony Scott, released by Warner Bros.
The Princess Diaries writer Gina Wendkos and director Garry Marshall, base on the book of the same name by Meg Cabot, released by The Walt Disney Company
________________________________________________________________________________
Never Go Hunting For Wolves
Chapter 1: The Ghost's Lament
Rating: G/PG as a one shot, probably a hard R if continued.
________________________________________________________________________________
The year is 1996 and two men are holding polite, even friendly, if maudlin conversation in the manager's office of a well appointed New York hotel. The older man is in his early 50's, 53 or 54 years old. When standing he would reach a height of 5'9" with fair skin, almost jet-black hair and pale blue eyes. This man is Winston, manager of the New York branch of the Continental, one of a few hotels for the discriminating sort of hired killer. The younger of the two men is 6'1" in height, with a graceful and athletic build, dark-brown eyes, not-quite boyishly handsome features with fair complexion, medium-length black hair and fine-stubble on his chin, cheeks and around his lips. To his fellow members of the criminal underworld he's The Bogeyman, Baba Yaga, Los Spettro, The Ghost or even Death's Very Emissary. But to his friends and loved ones he's simply John or Jonathan. This is the man, the myth, the legend, John Wick.
"So, Jonathan," Winston says in a sympathetic, almost mournful tone, "it's been almost a year since your aunt's brutal murder. How are you holding up so far?"
"'Bout as well as can be expected Winston." replies the world's deadliest and most infamous contract-killer, under currents of profound sorrow and bloodthirsty rage pouring into his words. "You know," John Wick says tearfully, while setting down the glass of bourbon he'd been nursing for about 15 minutes, "or maybe you don't, but you should. Even though she was my aunt, being only 10 years older than me, Maureen was more like a big sister to me. Now she's dead... " Now John is doing the one thing none outside his close friends and family have ever seen him do, weep openly. He regains just enough composure to say, “her husband Neil lost his wife and their daughter, my cousin, Sidney has to grow up without her mother being there for her.”
“Ah, you forget Jonathan,” Winston calmly replies to him, with all the compassion and fatherly warmth he can muster, “I did meet your aunt Maureen once, over four years ago, when she, her husband and their daughter, your cousin Sidney, came here to visit you. Part of why I remember was your insistence that I set aside a suite in this very establishment for them.” Never breaking eye contact with John, Winston's eyes begin to tear up slightly as he forms a sad soft smile, “She was a truly good and kind person Jonathan and she genuinely loved you as if you were her brother. Then some monster ripped her away from you and the rest of her family.”
“Yes, that's all true, Maureen was one of the best of us,” John said with bittersweet smile on his lips and with a touch of melancholy to his voice, “All the family was there from great grandpa Aldo to aunt Helen Thermopolis and her little girl Mia from San Francisco. Even cousin Floyd from L.A. was there, stoned out of head of course,” John says with a chortle, “but he took the time to make it out to Woodsboro for the funeral in the first place. That's all that really counts, isn't it?” He takes another sip of bourbon before setting it back on the glass table top. “The worst part of the whole funeral,” John Wick says, “was having to pull little Mia off her aunt's casket as it was being lowered into the ground and hearing her begging 'Aunt Maureen, please get up! You have to get up!' and explaining to her aunt is dead and what that means.”
“For God's sake, she was just 10 years old, she didn't know what death means! So now she had to come to terms her aunt's death, the fact that she was murdered and the fact that this sort of, pure evil exists.” John is saying, now boiling over with rage and grief. “Then here I was, holding tightly onto cousin Mia and trying to comfort her the best I can, all the while I'm thinkin' about hunting down the monsters who butchered aunt Maureen and killing them with my bare hands!”
Looking down to his glass topped coffee table Winston says, “You really don't think that Cotton Weary murdered your aunt, do you now Jonathan?”
“No Winston, I don't think Cotton Weary killed aunt Maureen,” John says solemnly, “he's a sleazy, disgusting creep and a scumbag, but he's not a cold-blooded killer. Someone murdered Maureen and framed Cotton Weary by leaving fake evidence behind for Sidney and the Woodsboro sheriff’s office to find. It's bad enough, vile enough that these monsters torture and murder aunt Maureen, but even worse, they duped my cousin into helping them get away with it! Now,” John Wick says, “they're stalking her, threatening her and terrorizing her just days from her mother's murder. They already murdered two of her classmates and left their mutilated corpses out on display!” Pausing to catch his breath John says, “That's why I'm leaving for Woodsboro, California tonight.”
“Then go, Jonathan,” Winston says, “keep your cousin and her friends safe and track down the vicious beasts who attacked your family. Take all the time you need.”
“Thanks Winston and I will.” John says as he stands from the black leather couch opposite Winston and heads towards the door to the lobby. “My suitcases are in the lobby, I'll just call up a cab to LaGuardia and load them in.”
“Nonsense,” Winston calls out. “I'll have Charon drive to LaGuardia, after Continental staff loads your luggage for you. I'll even pay for your airfare out of pocket. It's the least I can do.”
“Thanks,” says John, nodding respectfully towards Winston, before turning his back and exiting for the hotel lobby.
Smiling wistfully Winston says as John leaves, “Happy hunting, Mr Wick.”