If you’ve already read Ray or are still wondering whether to pick up a copy, you could do worse than to check out Paul Ketchum’s dramatic adaptations.  To that end I’m reposting them.  And the offer still stands: Anyone moved to make either of these into a video will receive miscellaneous small, nifty things and have her/his finished work featured on this site.  Enjoy…

Ray of the Star: Brief Dramatic Treatment #1

Note: In general, shots should be continuous and unbroken with no cuts unless otherwise indicated. This note should be taken as far as is cinematically feasible.

A man, Alfonso, dressed like a golden centaur and seated at a table in a cafe, talks to the camera.
Alfonso: Once upon a time there was or there wasn’t a young woman named Solange who lived in a fine old city by the sea, and each day in that city she painted her face with gold and put on golden robes and wings and went and stood on the Boulevard, which is famous the world round for its fine buildings and fine trees and crowds of people, but most of all for its extraordinary living statues, of which Solange, the golden angel, was the most beautiful and the most beloved, for when she smiled the sun slipped out of her mouth and danced in front of the crows that would gather around her in such numbers that the Boulevard was blocked and people seeking passage spilled out onto the surrounding streets, and while young men and young women alike fell quite hopelessly in love with Solange, and spoke to her and beseeched her to step down off her box, she never answered, never even seemed to look at them, until the day that the sun, having slipped out of her mouth to dance around in the crowd, stopped before a young man, who reached out a long, dusky finger and caressed it, as if it were a cheek, my cheek, thought Solange on her golden box, and when a moment later this young man came and stood before her and asked her to step down and join him for a drink, she shocked everyone (the murmur of it, which I remember well, said Alfonso, rippled like electric wavelets all th way down the Boulevard) by stepping down and removing her wings and walking off with him, and although Solange and the young man were often out and about in the days and weeks that followed it was as if they had pulled on magical cloaks that kept anyone from seeing them clearly, so that when they had been somewhere and then left it was like a dream had come, glowed for a moment, then gone, so love begins, and in truth, ends, even when it ends so horribly, as Solange’s did

The dialogue above continues over this scene and ends just before Eulalia speaks. A man, Ireneo, is jogging and his jogging shoes are speaking to him. He can only hear them when they are in his line of sight, so, while running, he can hear one shoe and then the other. He looks at his shoes while they are speaking and looks up to follow their commands. No cuts.

Shoe 1: Turn left
Shoe 2: at the next
Shoe 1: corner.
Shoe 2: Run close
Shoe 1: to the
Shoe 1: window
Shoe 2: with the
Shoe 1: beautiful
Shoe 2: antique
Shoe 1: toy cars.
Shoe 2: Kindly
Shoe 1: nod at
Shoe 2: The con-
Shoe 1: struction
Shoe 2: worker who
Shoe 1: is having
Shoe 2: trouble
Shoe 1: with his
Shoe 2: backhoe.
Shoe 1: Cut through
Shoe 2: the market
Shoe 1: but walk
Shoe 2: don’t run and
Shoe 1: sniff the
Shoe 2: papaya.

Ireneo arrives at Dona Eualia’s. He goes in, looks at her (she has an illuminated lampshade on her head).

Eulalia: Imbecile!

Ireneo looks at his shoes.

Shoe 1 and 2: Smelly old bag.
***

A woman, Solange, sits at a table and picks silver tears off of her face before dipping them into a bowl of clear liquid in front of her and putting them on a rack to dry. The shot never shifts. No cuts.

Solange: One night when her young man had gone out in search of milk and ended his search with a knife blade broken off so far down his throat it tok investigating officials several hours to discover the cause of death though it did not take them long to find the one who had broken his knife off in the young man’s mouth:

The audio of Solange speaking continues while the shot changes to Harry trying to fall asleep. He is in his room lying on the bed. He smacks the bell sitting next to his bed then gets up and performs calesthenics, poorly executed sun salutations, before getting back into bed, ringing the bell, standing up, getting back into bed, ringing the bell, standing up, with increasing frequency.

after the deed he had drunk a bottle of sparkling water, swallowed a sprig of parsley and a fistful of Valium and went out to inform anyone who would listen that the golden angel, whom he had admired for far longer than the young man, would soon be his and his alone, without knowing that at the precise moment he had shoved his knife blade down the young man’s throat the golden angel had ceased to exist, for whom, some weeks later, Solange reappeared on the Boulevard, she was no longer golden - she had gone as pale as a piece of cloudy ice - and she never smiled, and there were tears on her face, and inside those tears, which she carefully affixed each morning and tore carefully from her face each night, were flecks of the broken blade, which the coroner had given her out of pity.
Cut back to Solange pulling the last tear from her face. She looks at it.

Shard: I don’t want to be a tear anymore.

She dips it into the liquid and puts it out to dry next to the other shards.

***
An old woman is seated in a chair across a table from two other people seated on a sofa. Dona Eulalia takes a cookie from the platter sitting on the table and eats it while Harry and Solange watch.
Eulalia: They’re coming.
She searches around in her mouth for leftover cookie crumbs. Then looks at Solange.
Eulalia: For both of you.
***
Three rotund old men with cigars are standing next to a window as a door opens and Harry walks into the room. The camera is tight on their smiles the entire time. When the door opens, they all smile wide grins and smoke escapes from their teeth.

!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Ray of the Star: Brief Dramatic Treatment #2

A man in slacks and a button-up shirt puts on some running shoes and proceeds to jog through narrow streets, alleyways, etc., while the narrator does his thing.

Narrator: Once upon a time there was or there wasn’t a young woman named Solange who lived in a fine old city by the sea, and each day in that city she painted her face with gold and put on golden robes and wings and went and stood on the Boulevard, which is famous the world round for its extraordinary living statues, of which Solange, the golden angel, was the most beautiful and the most beloved, for when she smiled the sun slipped out of her mouth and danced in front of the crowds that would gather around her in such numbers that the Boulevard was blocked and people seeking passage spilled out onto the surrounding streets, and while young men and young women alike fell quite hopelessly in love with Solange, and spoke to her and beseeched her to step down off her box, she never answered, never even seemed to look at them, until the day that the sun, having slipped out of her mouth to dance around in the crowd, stopped before a young man, who reached out a long, dusky finger and caressed it, as if it were a cheek, my cheek, thought Solange on her golden box, and when a moment later this young man came and stood before her and asked her to step down and join him for a drink, so love begins, and in truth, ends, even when it ends so horribly, as Solange’s did one night when her young man had gone out in search of milk and ended his search with a knife blade broken off so far down his throat it took investigating officials several hours to discover the cause of death. Solange reappeared on the Boulevard, she was no longer golden and she never smiled, and there were tears on her face, and inside those tears were flecks of the broken blade, which the coroner had given her out of pity.

The jogging man reaches a building. He opens the door to blackness and enters. He is in a room where an old woman is seated in a chair across a table from two other people seated on a sofa. Dona Eulalia takes a cookie from the platter sitting on the table and eats it while Harry and Solange watch.

Eulalia: They’re coming.

She searches around in her mouth for leftover cookie crumbs. Then looks at Solange.

Eulalia: For both of you.

***

Camera tight on a face. A door opens and the face shifts into a huge smile. Smoke escapes between the teeth.

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