PUNK FEST; Car Club Wellington
It's the annual punkfest and this one is dedicated to Neil Roberts who died 25 years ago attempting to blow up the Whanganui Police Computer Centre according to the poster at the door. We follow a women into the gig. Money is taken and a stamp smeared across her wrist. A huge banner "We Remember You Neil" hangs behind the band who stand like frozen possums under the spot lights. The crowd however is going ape shit with bodies hurtling in every direction. The unknown band is playing/destroying No Idea's "Too Late". The song is very familiar to her and she smiles, nods her recognition, mouths a few words... The crowd is mostly young and her body language quickly shows discomfort as they repeatedly crash into her, spill their drinks over her...
After briefly watching she withdraws slowly out of the crowd, avoiding the drunken stumbles and 'dancing' she picks up snippets of conversation as she leaves. The dialogue is a random cut n paste collage of boasts, assumptions and ignorance.
VARIOUS PEOPLE
"Neil was a fucken hero man, taking out the pigs..."
"sensors or something set the bomb off...boom!"
"yeah that's fucking anarchy..."
"Dumb cunt musta fucked the timer or something eh?"
"They like reckon they found eleven fingers eh? Hahahaha!"
The audience is wasted, aggressive, despairing even. She leaves, stands alone on the porch under a weak light. Across the crowded dark carpark clusters of punks drink and smoke, many others simply stagger about. The crowd is young and mostly adhere to the now standard look of the modern-day street punk: filthy, matted hair, sickly, several black t-shirts despite the cold, ripped/patched black jeans and boots. There are 'others' about: older, more conservative, younger kids etc
DENISE
Catherine! Ova here!
She recognises the voice, her friend Denise. There - a small house truck is parked on the perimeter, an arm is waving from a window. She walks across to it.
HOUSE TRUCK; INTERIOR; FLOW OF PEOPLE IN AND OUT.
The interior is smoky, dimly lit and a riot of stuff. Solar panels are stacked on a chair; a pot bubbles on a gas ring and two burnt knives stick out from under it. A broken vodka bottle lies on the kitchen bench amongst numerous dishes and general 'stuff'. A small B/W Tv is on the bench and shows news footage of the Uerawera terrorist raids - the sound is muted. The walls are covered in photos, posters, flyers, slogans etc, most are overtly political. A stereo is playing jungle, but the noise of the gig remains quietly audible. There are three or four people inside - it's hard to tell with the constant movement. A women is on the loft bed above all the bustling of conversations, drinking and drug taking; she closes the loft window and settles back down. Shortly Catherine is working her way through the small space, greeting and hugging people before clambering up into the loft.
DENISE
You didn't make it back last night then?
CATHERINE
Nah we didn't wrap up till late and by the time we'd had a drink, packed and hit the road I was fucked. Was it a good night here?
DENISE
Yeah! Started off at Janice's place for some fire works for Neil. It was cool, sad memories and vodka... pretty lethal eh. Then here. It was so-so... maybe one good band. The head-liners were grunty metal boys from Hamilton so we didn't stay.
She waves her hand out into the truck space.
Don't matter. Danny's chai tent here is the place to be eh guys?
Hoots and cheers are thrown back and the truck shakes as a couple of bodies attempt to dance. A cry of "spots are up" can be heard.
DENISE
Here.
Twists the cap off a beer.
Bottoms up. So tell me about Whanganui - bet that was an interesting week eh? Dig up plenty of small-town dirt?
CATHERINE
Ha! Fuck. Weddings, retirements, and... new shops opening up. I actually yawned in one interview, very unprofessional...
DENISE
Oh, I saved you a punk cupcake from Janice's party.
She rummages around on a shelf above her.
It's a blue one so don't smile at anyone okay?
CATHERINE
Wicked. Ta.
She raises the cupcake in a toast.
To Neil, for putting the punk into master chef.
Laughing, they scoff the cake before drinking deeply.
DENISE
So, first trip back since you guys staked out the computer centre eh? Glory days. Was it weird? Did ya go check it out - y'know...
CATHERINE
Yeah I walked past, went through that park... Um.. Moutua Gardens. where the toilets are... real flash now and the um iron fence thing they put up after the bombing is gone now so it's pretty much how I remember it. Could have gone in I suppose - just lawyers an shit in there now. Yeah (laughs) there was this old dragon who worked at the paper - thank fuck she wasn't in charge of the students, anyway, she wrote all the original articles about the bombing - she was there.
DENISE
Yeah... And?
CATHERINE
Wouldn't have a fucking bar of it eh; no fucking poxy student journalist was going to be interviewing her. Neil was a nut-job - end of story.
DENISE
Damn... bitch...
CATHERINE
Forget her; I found the copy-editor who was on duty that night, told me how the building shook and they ran around screaming 'stop the press' just like in a movie... and...
Catherine pulls her bag across her and after rummaging inside pulls out a pack of photos.
CATHERINE
I got access to the photo archives and permission to reprint what ever I wanted..
DENISE
Fuck! No shit! Lemme see...
Settled against pillows they flick through a series of B & W photos taken the morning after the bombing.
DENISE
Oh fuck his boots... are his feet still like...?
CATHERINE
Probably. The report said his hands, feet and part of his face were all that was left.."
DENISE
Yeah... yeah that's right. An eyeball was found twenty metres away or something eh... Fuck what a mess... Shit... 'brain'... 'cloth'...
CATHERINE
See that dude there? (points out a bearded man in a photo) I met him years ago in Nelson, he was growing avocados or something. He was the government bomb expert who figured it all out...like how he did it, how much gelli Neil used. Nice guy. Threw him a bit the whole scene an all.
DENISE
Fuck I'm not surprised, the damage is real intense.
CATHERINE
Well he did want to scare the fuckers. No point in being lame about it eh... like the dude who chucked a Molotov at the place during the tour...
DENISE
Really? Never heard of that...
CATHERINE
Yeah well it only burned up an innocent shrub...
The noise from the gig/drunken howls etc suddenly increases as the window in the loft swings open in the wind.
CATHERINE
Fucken' hell, it gets worse every year; is this Neil's legacy?
DENISE
Sure is Grandma; wasted, confused, idealistic kids... ah the memories. I wonder which ones will kill themselves before the years out eh?
She lights and draws hard on a cigarette.
There's this chick just come in the terminal ward on Thursday who dropped a bundle of panadol to freak her folks out, demand some quality loving... who knows. Shit, she's got about two days left they reckon. Doesn't wanna die anymore eh... fucken total hysterics now. Ya know I never really got that whole calmness Neil had around dying... how there was no depression, no rage, it was like a day dream almost. This steadfast acceptance that it was the best plan.
CATHERINE
The suicide parties...
DENISE
yeah, totally, so not fucking funny.
CATHERINE
Yeah it was a cunning plan alright. Shame fucking New Zealand let him down eh? Sheep.
She twists on the bed and bleats out into the darkness
Baaaaaaaa.
A chorus of bleats respond. There is a pause in the music. A new song starts: Riot 111.
DENISE
Holy shit they're playing 1981! Our song!
Together they scramble down from the loft, push through the haze of the truck party and leap off the porch. As they run screaming across the car park they travel back in time; the crowd thins out, clothes, haircuts, piercings, the chant of Move! Move! Move!.... It's 1981...
Vivian Street, Rock Theatre, 1981.
The two girls are running across Vivian Street towards the Rock Theatre. It's 1981 and the environment reflects this... decor, cars, fashion and the riot cops lined up across the road in trench coats with batons swinging lazily...
CATHERINE
Denise! Wait up fuck ya... don't leave me out here with the pigs...
DENISE
C'mon they're starting 1981!
CATHERINE
Where's Neil? Didn't he come out as well?
They're at the door of the club and pushing in past people. Both look quickly at the floor as they pass the bouncer who obviously doesn't care about their age... Riot 111 are on on stage and the drum intro to '1981' is pounding out across the audience. Singer Void is in a kilt with a police cap and baton leading the charge.. The girls find Neil Roberts near the front and leap on him with screams of delight. Our first sighting of Neil sees him with a green mowhawk, tampon ear rings, a dog choker around his neck. Grabbing each other they leap about screaming happily along to the song...
(To Be continued! See notes in script page for more information:)
