CRAZY CALM: EXCERPT

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"CRAZY CALM EPISODE 3: ACTIVE-AGGRESSIVE"

FADE IN:

EXT. HACKNEY MARSHES - 6.30 A.M.

The Hackney Marshes are abandoned in the hail-strewn morning. A sole figure comes running in the darkness. She runs fast, panting heavily. This is SAM, 24.

As she pounds the ground, the music in her headphones is interrupted by an incoming call: The Studio. She rejects the call. They call again. She rejects it again.

Finally, they send a text message.

STUDIO TEXT MESSAGE

You're fired. Love and light, psycho.

EXT. SAM'S HOUSE - 7 A.M.

OSCAR, 25, is sitting on Sam's steps, humming a tune as he speed-reads an old, cloth-bound book. At his feet is a brown paper bag, stained with grease.

Sam arrives and stops in front of him. Shiny with sweat and rain, she's still panting.

Oscar gives her one look, then holds up the book.

OSCAR

So I had this thought.

INT. SAM'S KITCHEN- 7.30 A.M.

Sam, now in pastel-coloured loungewear with a towel around her head, is making some kind of shake in her NutriBullet. Meanwhile, Oscar orates from a chair.

OSCAR

... so he realised, that every time he got punched in the face, it was down to the same essential flaw!

SAM

What was it?

OSCAR

It doesn't matter. The point is, you're the same.

Sam places a cup of her concoction in front of Oscar, next to the book, open on the first page of short story "The Four Fists" by F. Scott Fitzgerald.

SAM

I punched, Oscar. People weren't mad with me. I was mad with them.

OSCAR

Okay, so, not strictly the same, but what I mean to say is, you punched both these guys for the same reason. What the hell is that?

Sam sighs and sinks down onto a chair.

SAM

If only I knew. Not even the hypnotist could tell. The only thing they have in common is a beard.

She mimics her hypnotist.

SAM (CONT'D)

"Does your father have a beard? Sixty-five quid, please."

OSCAR

No, I mean this.

Oscar holds up the cup and peers sceptically into the snot-green frothy drink.

SAM

Oh. Matcha, turmeric, cinnamon and oat milk. It's very good for you.

Oscar wrinkles his nose and puts the drink down untouched. Instead, he reaches into the paper bag and pulls out an almond croissant.

OSCAR

Do you remember when that theatre hippy came to our school?

SAM

Huh?

OSCAR

The old workshop woman. In the elephant-patterned trousers.

SAM

Hey! I've got elephant-patterned trousers.

OSCAR

Yeah no shit. Anyway. She made us do this exercise where we walked around and were all, like... emotional. Like, we had to express emotions, from one to five.

As he speaks, Sam closes her eyes and inhales the smell of her turmeric drink. Failing to enjoy the moment, she opens her eyes and looks all but mindful. She glances at Oscar, who's chewing his croissant.

OSCAR (CONT'D)

We started with joy. Level one. You're a little bit happy, maybe you got a compliment... level two, you got an A on a test.

SAM

I got A's on all my tests.

OSCAR

Yeah. Until you had a performance anxiety-induced breakdown.

Sam rolls her eyes.

SAM

Go on.

OSCAR

Level three, your parents just got you a kitten. I don't know. But you've got a spring in your step now. Level four, you just snatched a sponsorship deal from Yoga Girl...

SAM

Yeah, I get it. What's your point?

OSCAR

When we came to anger, you couldn't do it.

Sam puts the drink halfway down, but freezes, mid-air, in thought.

OSCAR (CONT'D)

Literally, you couldn't. Level one and two, sure, you stomped your feet a little bit. Three, four, you maybe crossed your arms. But when it came to level five...

Sam shudders.

SAM

That fucking hippie kept shouting at me to get a reaction.

OSCAR

Everyone else was shouting. Roaring. Kim Colbeck even broke a chair.

SAM

Fucking Kim Colbeck.

OSCAR

But you... you couldn't.

SAM

Nope.

OSCAR

Physically unable to express anger number five.

SAM

(in the tune of Lou Bega's Mambo No. 5)

Anger number five!

OSCAR

Well?

SAM

Well, what?

OSCAR

Don't you see? That's why you punched those guys. You're like a steam engine with no outlet. All this yoga bullshit...

SAM

Um, I wouldn't call a ten thousand year-old spiritual practice -

OSCAR

- not to mention a twenty-seven billion dollar industry -

Sam's eyes narrow.

OSCAR (CONT'D)

Fifty-seven percent of Costa Rica's GDP -

Sam throws a cushion at Oscar, whacking his croissant onto the floor. Oscar looks at it, mock-shocked, and shakes his head.

OSCAR (CONT'D)

Babe. You're a parody of yourself.

Sam throws her head back in frustration, rubbing her eyelids.

OSCAR (CONT'D)

All this yoga bu - all this yoga. I'm sure it's great for your ass, but it's not letting you express your emotions. So I was thinking, what if you tried something less... passive-aggressive.

Sam rolls her eyes.

SAM

(sarcastic)

What, something active-aggressive?

EXT. BLOODBATH MARTIAL ARTS CLUB - 10 A.M.

Sam and Oscar are standing outside Bloodbath Martial Arts, a dingy-looking fight club housed underneath a railway arch.

The paint is chipping, the posters of muscly, angry-looking fighters are torn, and from inside come screams, grunts, and whacks. Loud dancehall starts playing, and Sam twitches.

SAM

I have to tell you. I'm not entirely convinced.

Oscar puts an arm over her shoulder and leads her inside.

INT. BLOODBATH MARTIAL ARTS

Inside the gym are two cages and two open mats. In one cage, two big dudes are fighting in helmets, and on one mat, two even bigger dudes are sparring. One of them lands a highkick on the other one's head, and he falls to the floor with a heavy thud.

Sam looks like a deer in the headlights, her entire body language labouring to make her as small as possible.

Oscar's phone rings.

OSCAR

Fuck, it's work. I gotta go.

SAM

(faking disappointment)

Oh! Too bad, we'll have to do this some other time.

OSCAR

Um, I don't think so.

Ignoring the call, Oscar spots a big Latino guy in cut-off tracksuit bottoms on the other side of the gym, and wolf-whistles.

OSCAR (CONT'D)

Yo, Rocky!

Sam hides her face in her hands. The Latino guy - who is LUIS, 38 - grunts and looks up.

OSCAR (CONT'D)

Can you take care of Sam here? She can't stop beating up men, so we thought we might as well channel it.

Luis looks Sam up and down, somewhat hungrily.

LUIS

No problem.

Oscar puts in his headset and leaves, doing two thumbs-up.

OSCAR

(into phone)

Hello? Yup, I'm right outside...

An awkward moment as Sam is left with Luis. Luis touches his hair, flexing the muscles peeking through his tank top.

LUIS

So... which martial art are you here for?

SAM

Um, what have you got?

LUIS

We've got Jiu Jitsu, Brazilian Jiu Jitsu, Muay Thai, MMA -

SAM

Oh yeah, that one!

Luis looks at her sceptically.

LUIS

MMA?

SAM

That's the one Joe Rogan does, right? He's got some great views on positive psychology.

LUIS

Alright, as you wish.

Luis licks his lips and rubs his hands together.

LUIS (CONT'D)

Get on the floor.

SAM

What?

Luis nods to the floor.

LUIS

Get on your back.

Sam hesitates, but does not want to seem fazed. So she pulls out her ponytail and lies down, rigid. Luis climbs on top of her, straddling her waist.

LUIS (CONT'D)

Now wrap your legs around my neck.

SAM

Around... your... neck?

LUIS

To choke me. It's called the triangle.

Sam shuffles around a bit, finally managing to wrap her legs around Luis's sizeable neck. She can't help but notice he's more or less in a position to give her oral sex.

LUIS (CONT'D)

Now squeeeeeeeze.

Pained, but determined, Sam obeys. She does have rather muscly thighs, and as she squeezes, Luis's face reddens. It does little to alleviate Sam's discomfort, however, and she looks like she's about to cry when a pissed-off voice interrupts them.

NADEERA (O.S.)

LUIS WHAT THE FUCK DO YOU THINK YOU'RE DOING?

Instantly, and without any difficulty whatsoever, Luis slides out of Sam's thigh-grip.

He turns and looks, somewhat sheepishly, at the source of the voice: a tiny but sturdy girl of South Asian heritage, wearing leggings, a sports bra and fake eyelashes. This is NADEERA, 28.

Nadeera comes marching across the gym, with a very pissed-off expression on her face.

SAM

Oh, it's okay, I asked him to show / me -

NADEERA

Luis, how many fucking times do I need to tell you? New girls, they go to me first.

Luis starts mumbling an answer.

SAM

Honestly, it's cool, I'm the one who asked /

NADEERA

Tss!

She holds out a hand, instantly silencing Sam.

NADEERA (CONT'D)

(to Sam)

Peaches. This has nothing to do with you.

(to Luis)

One more time and you're out, okay?

LUIS

Oh come on, I just wanted to show her the / triangle...

NADEERA

You just wanted to show her? By lying on top of her? Look at her, for fuck's sake. She looks like a baby rabbit in a dog pound.

Sam's heart starts beating harder as she witnesses the conflict. Sweat breaks out on her forehead. She really wants to say something. In her head, Oscar's words echo:

OSCAR (V.O.)

... physically unable to express anger...

Sam opens her mouth, and is just about to speak, when Luis walks off. While Sam was working up the courage to speak, Nadeera and Luis finished their fight.

Sam looks after Luis as he leaves, almost crying. She swallows. Nadeera swears to herself. Sam, head hung, walks over to her bag and starts putting on her shoes.

NADEERA

Where do you think you're going?

SAM

Oh. I... I don't know what I was thinking. This is clearly not my thing.

Nadeera scoffs.

NADEERA

What, MMA?

SAM

Well... yeah.

Nadeera looks her up and down, eyebrows raised.

NADEERA

Sweet cheeks. My nan could've told you you weren't gonna be good at MMA. And she's been blind ten years.

Offended, Sam looks down at what she views as her very well-built body.

NADEERA (CONT'D)

Look at them skinny legs! I could eat me Chinese with that.

SAM

(defensive)

I can do a one-handed tree pose!

NADEERA

I'm not saying you haven't got muscle, pumpkin. Actually, you're pretty fit for a hipster. But MMA... pfft. You need weight for that.

Nadeera pats her own, much more rounded physique.

SAM

(pissed)

Alright. Well, thanks for the info.

NADEERA

(mimicking)

"Thanks for the info." No wonder you're beating up boys left and right. If that's how you handle conflict.

SAM

I'm sorry?

NADEERA

"Yoga Chick Beats Up Groom?" You're all over my Instagram, babes.

Sam just about dies in reaction to this. Nadeera enjoys the moment.

NADEERA (CONT'D)

Your cross's pretty good, though.

SAM

My what?

Nadeera puts a hand on Sam's back.

NADEERA

Come on, sweetie. Let's try something where your long, thin-ass arms are an asset instead of something fun for Luis to break.