Goth Girl comedy

I'll be honest: this one is one of my favourites. It was originally written in "My So Called Life" days, and kind of transposes Hal Hartley movies into Re*ding, Berk.

  

 “Out Of The Black (Into The Blue)” or "How Soon Is Never" or "I Was A Teenage Smog"

The film opens on a glorious sunny morning: little birds flying, kids running around playing football or racing each other on bikes, a little girl skips rope and so on. A man picks up his copy of "The Sun", checks the page 3 and hurriedly turns to the sports page as his wife brings the tea pot. A couple of joggers in brightly coloured lycra gear pass in the street.

Grand music starts: "I wanna die / you bastards / I wanna die / Right now..." Rising against the blue sky, a black silhouette: a teenage girl of about 16; at her window, in her room. She sits down and does her hair up, mouths the words to the suicidal song.

She gets down to the kitchen downstairs in her school uniform. Her little sister is devouring her breakfast; Mum is cooking, father (maybe foreign, maybe a bear of a man) reading his "red top" newspaper, frowning at the news;
he ends up throwing the paper away in disgust: "Aaah these Bolshies, I told you we couldn't trust Gorbatov! They're all the same they are, mutton dressed as a lamb!"
The heroine, bored: "Gor-bat-chev, it's Gorbatchev Dad."
Dad: "Aah, whatever -they're all the same, just you wait till Maggie sorts him out!"
The mother brings her daughter some breakfast: "Adrienne, I won’t offer you any sausages darling, but at least a couple of eggs... hmmm? For once?"
Adrienne: "Muuum, you know how I feel about eating in the morning -coffee suits me fine. Simple black coffee."
Mum: "Darling, just for once, you’ll be missing your vitamins if you skip on proper meals"
Adrienne produces a bottle of pills: "Thank you Mum, you're right, I nearly forgot to take them -There you are, vitamins cocktail; yum, delicious -and by the way Mum, I hope this is not Nescafé, you know how I feel about Nestlé's mistreatment of third world babies"
Mum, sweetly and unfazed (obviously used to her ideological objections): "No darling it isn't ...but that's because Nescafe's too expensive. I made doubly sure you only have SavaCenter brew."
Adrienne: "Huh. SavaCenter. OK then, gotta go now, mwwouah everyone; 'you coming Amanda? You ready yet?"
Her little sister jumps on her parents and kisses them goodbye. She follows her sister out, moaning about how she hasn't even finished her shreddies...

The two sisters walk to school, the little one making sure she's a bit ahead of her weird looking sister who makes sure to pull out her white shirt tails from under her school sweater (Simple Minds circa 1986 style) and studiedly chews gum, ignoring the world around her from the comfort of her sunglasses. Kids nudge each other in the ribs when they spot her; a couple of builders with their arse cheeks mandatorily half-out, whistle her. She walks on, supremely indifferent. She is a rather pretty girl, but intent on looking bored, with her Walkman switched on. The town is beige coloured with a minimalist look, devoid of personality. The two girls pass by an industrial estate: bare walls, with a spectacular punk posing for tourists. 

They arrive at school; Amanda rushes to join her lively friends. Adrienne takes out a book by Camus and starts reading, concentrating hard, on her own, perched on a wall, waiting for the bell to ring.

(Later.) The two girls come back home, retracing their footsteps with the same characters reappearing behind: comical use of near-perfect repeated takes of setting scenes. The punk is now passed out on the pavement, surrounded by cigarette butts and empty bottles. Amanda stops to stare at him; Adrienne's arm appears from the right side of the screen to drag her along.

Adrienne's room: posters of Morrissey, the Cure, Siouxsie, Bauhaus, Mickey Rourke, Louise Brooks. Lots of books (one of them titled: "Mes Grands Déprimés"), tapes, Amnesty International calendar, batteries everywhere. She changes into a Ian Curtis t-shirt and black leggings. Does her homework and, momentarily dazzled by a ray of sunlight, draws the curtains up on the blue sky outside. She lights up some candles and incense.
In the background, her little sister plays Madonna "Into The Groove". Horrified, Adrienne switches on something by the Smiths. Madonna's music comes out louder; she turns up her own music.
Finally, Dad's voice: "Oiii, can you two turn it DOWN!!"
She sighs "philistines", and complies. She picks up her precious diary (kept under key) and, staring at the poster in front of her, starts to write:
"Today: nothing. Absolutely nada. The sun shone for those who didn't need to notice it, and that Agga prick tried it on again. The” (hesitates, looks for word) “buffoon actually had a football scarf on! Can't wait for the Wenders film tonight –obviously at ungodly hour: will take some serious negotiating..."
She consults a book of quotes by Oscar Wilde, and cracks up at "All art is useless":
"that's why you became a carpenter eh" She writes it down; sighs; clutches her stomach as it starts making noise.
She shouts out: "Muuum, when’s dinner on?"
"-In just a moment, dear".
Exasperated, she sighs; dives down on her bed, turning up her music again. She scribbles a few more lines and moans: "Shit, I'm staaarving!"

At dinner, Dad (a big bear of a man) is reading another daily paper, Mum is serving dinner.
He grunts: "So, how was school everyone?"
Amanda starts to answer: "Well, today I was"
He answers automatically: "Great, great, keep it up love, well done" turning a page.
Mother shoots a fond look at Amanda, who starts again: "Today, I said, we learned about"
"Don't take any notice, dear" Mum says.
Father: "Huh. Can't you let her talk for once? You were saying, love?"
Mother: "What do you mean, let her talk?" as Amanda starts again  "like maybe you didn’t yourself...?"
Father: "What do you mean I didn’t? Course I did, I was only testing see, only checking, never let it be said that I -hang on, darling" to his daughter, who has started up again again "I’m talking to your mother; why do you always assume I never pay attention to"
Mother: "Pay attention, that will be the day! Look at her, just look at what you've done now":
Amanda starts to cry, in exaggerated fashion.
"Baby baby baby, your father didn't mean it, he is just a" interrupting Amanda as she tries once more to explain.
Father gives his daughter a hug: "Now then, what is going on here, there’s no need for that" and so on. 

As the parents compete for their youngest one 's affection, Adrienne sighs, grabs a plate and leaves the table to go eat in her room. 

The two parents, after they have stopped Amanda’s crying with multiple promises, sit back down to dinner. Mother turns to serve Adrienne, realises she's gone; they look at each other, baffled: "Huh! Where has she gone now? Where is she? ‘you seen her leave?"
"What do you mean: ‘you seen her leave? Your own daughter! Wasn't she at the table, just now?"
"No she wasn’t!"
"Yes she was, she must have left"
"What d'you mean she must have left, why in God’s name should she leave, ‘doesn’t make sense!"

Upstairs in her room, eyebrow lifted, Adrienne absent-mindedly picks at her dinner, leisurely, whilst listening to some typically disturbing / discordant hard-core punk music (Butthole Surfers / Flux Of Pink Indians?)

Next day. Adrienne gets up, goes to school; walks back home; witnesses the same people quarrelling in the background. Gets up; goes to school, and so on. She observes people bickering around her for trivial reasons (motorists, drunken football fans, greedy shopkeepers); carries a notebook around, on which she jots her  impressions / adolescent poems. She must come across as aloof, slightly patronising, stuck-up in her own adolescent way. Her parents are right: she does need to socialise and open up a bit more.

Voice-over (hers): "Life shouldn't have to be mundane, pedestrian, repetitive, frustrating, mind-numbing, devoid of charm and excitement, seemingly pointless, usually nauseating, evisceratingly repressive, fey, shallow, left to utter chance, absurd, preposterous, stifling, rubbish, bleak, uninspiring, unimaginative, fortuitous -but it often is." 

More scenes of motorists insulting each other on the background, a couple of skinheads chasing a black guy in one direction ...and then running away in the other, chased by a group of black guys.
Adrienne walks through all of this, supremely unconcerned, crossing the street with not a care in the world. A bus driver slams on the brakes behind her and shakes his fist at her; she ignores him, listening to her Walkman.
Voice-over: "Nietzsche says: without music, life would be a mistake. I agree with the old walrus."
She walks right in the middle of a fight between a dozen of football hooligans. She picks up a can of beer that slipped out of a man's pocket, and continues.

At home, living room.
Her colourful but loving father asks her cautiously: "So, chubby cheeks, how was school today? ... Made any friends yet? Friends are important, you know. When I was your age, I could never imagine not hanging out with my gang, oh we used to take over pubs and –ahem, but that may not be the best of examples. Hmm. You know what I mean though."
Adrienne, exasperated, sighs: "Excuuuse me, but can I watch this programme in peace? Or maybe would you like to sit down and watch it with me..."
Father, enthusiastically: "Smashing idea kiddo! Let's watch the box together, how long ‘zit been? Remember when we used to watch the rugby together on Saturday afternoons?"
He sits down and discovers... "This Week In Parliament: Huh. Great."
Squirming, yawning, he endures it for about thirty seconds (his face goes through a dozen expressions), then gives up and leaves the room.
Adrienne smirks, and switches back to "Top of the Pops".

Another day. Mother: "Adrienne darling, could I ask you something; when you've done slashing your wrists, could you help me out with the shopping? The car's on the blink again and I only have two hands ...could you?"
Adrienne, visibly frowning "OK OK, when do you need me? Now? Gimme a sec, wait, wait, if we go to town, I won't be a minute.” She goes upstairs, and comes back wearing a "Only stupid bastards use heroin" T-shirt.
Mum: "Ooh, lovely. Suits your complexion perfectly, I couldn't have put it better myself. Except maybe using even bigger letters, I'm afraid the message might get lost on the Tesco's check-out girl."

They walk to the town centre, ignoring the drunks coming their way, clutching their coats in synch. Her mum is an imposing woman, and Adrienne sometimes has trouble catching up with her at times as she tends to shuffle her feet.
Her mum stops in front of a poster: "Oh look dear, the Progress Theatre are giving "No Man's Land". No man's land, that should appeal to you, doesn't it? Painter, you like that guy Pinter, don't you?"
Adrienne, grudgingly, trying not to sound actually interested:"Hmmm... yes, maybe... When's it on?"
Mum: "Oh dear, it was until yesterday."
Adrienne, gutted: "Ssshit!"
Mum: "Well, you see, if you paid a little more attention at what goes around you darling..." She walks off again. "Wouldn't it tempt you?"
Adrienne, who's been studying the poster: "Tempt what?"
Mum, not slowing down: "Wouldn't it tempt you, the theatre; have you never thought of trying your luck? This by rights should be right up your dead-end street, shouldn’t it? ... The thrill of the written word -you still like writing, don't you?-, the power of speeches, all the arty-farty stuff... rhetoric, I believe you call it. You could indulge your love of fancy words to your heart's content, that would be a welcome break for your father when he comes back from work... So? What do you think? Never considered taking to the stage, you used to be sooo cute in your tutu when you were a little girl..."
Adrienne: "Awww, Muum"
Mum: "Lost your tongue, Adrienne?"
Adrienne: "A-ha. Very funny.” (in that annoying way teenagers have when they presume to talk down to their elders) “I don't know... I don't know, doesn't feel right. Or if I did, it would have to be my own writings, my own works eh -not some sexist bastard's with complete disregard for female issues."
Mum stops abruptly: "Oh look, here is something you could do then, it certainly deals with female issues."
Adrienne: "What's that?"
Her mother points out an advert for cheerleaders wanted at the local basketball hosting sports resort (Rivermead).
Adrienne groans and sulks off, her mother is laughing her head off.

Cut to her mother dragging Adrienne into a shop: "Now then. Let's get you some clothes for a change. You could do with some new ones, could you. Have a look at this, pumpkin... " handing her a blouse.
Adrienne, mortified, shoots a look around: "Ugh. You must be kidding! Why not a décolleté with a pearl necklace, while you're at it?"
Her mother pretends not to hear; rummages through the clothes on offer: "Oooh that's nice... you like it, huh? Come on, petal, gizzus a smile"
Adrienne, horrified, stares at her feet, as her mother admires (perfectly decent and cheerful) loudly coloured summer tops and dresses, pressing them on her to judge the effect.
Her mother: "Oh dear, don't tell me I am embarrassing you in public? Surely not, a strong mind like yours. What was it this hirsute man you like so much said: what doesn't kill you will only make you stranger. Something like that."

More trip to school / back from school sequences, complete with teen angst rock soundtrack. The punk in the background is now replaced by a couple of New Romantics.

One evening, her parents ask her: "Look, we've had this idea darling, what would you say if we invited one of your little friends over to dinner?"
Adrienne: "What?? No way, I've got no friends -and besides, it would be... creepy. So lame, yeah. Totally conventional."
Father, annoyed: "Well, that's too bad, young lady cos' your mother and I were talking to this lovely lady, Mrs. Kherdijian, and she was telling us how much her daughter Arsinee enjoys your company at English lessons."
Adrienne drops her satchel bag: "Arsinee? But she hardly speaks to me! She's the most stuck up, aloof, self-conceited poseur! Everyone knows that, she’s a fake!"
Father: "Oh yeah? Well we didn't, thank you very much for the info, and your mother and I have decided to invite her for dinner tomorrow"
Mother: "What do you mean we did? And don’t kick me again under the table, you don’t know your own strength!"
Father: "Who oh why oh why does everything have to turn into a crisis at this house? I though we had agreed it would be a common decision, and if your daughter doesn't like it, then tough! My daughter's going to entertain one of her stuck-up little friends whether she likes it or not! And she’s gonna have a great time! End of story."
He hastily departs, pursued by his wife who starts: "Wait a minute Mister, you just can't... "
Adrienne gulps, turns to the camera: "Arsinee, oh my."

Cut to Arsinee at college, in Doc Martens, Che Guevara T-shirt, sunglasses, smoking roll-ups and blowing the smoke in a smaller boy’s face after his ball hits her; takes out her cigarette, blows up his plastic ball.

The next evening. Arsinee arrives, dropped by her clearly anxious mother ("have fun dear, and be ready by ten"). Both girls salute each other coldly, out-snobbing each other. Everyone is on their best behaviour during the meal, and the parents' attempt at banter falls flat, until the father mispronounces a foreign word, at which both girls share a quick smirk.
Finally, little Amanda protests after being chided one time too many by her parents (sit up, no elbow on the table, don't play with your food, etc.) and points out: "Not fair, look, she's doing it " pointing at their guest; starts to cry.
In the ensuing commotion, Arsinee snakes off, and Adrienne repairs upstairs in a huff to play the Smiths.

The next morning over the breakfast table. Dad, falsely severe -he hated their guest from the first moment on- admonishes her: "Well. I hope you're happy now. Last night was a frank success, you couldn't have been more... you couldn't have been uncooperatist if you had wanted to."
Her mother: "What is it with you, darling, you just don't seem to hit it off with anyone, Arsinee may have been a bit, er... standoffish I suppose, but she wasn't that bad. Well. Not entirely. ...  At least both of you were vegetarians."
Little sister: "Muum, can I have another toast?"
Mother: "Certainly, dear"
Father: "You know what, it's not always easy to get inside your head, we thought it’d be a nice surprise, broaden your horizon a bit... get on the level. The paper says here that kids get brainier every day -statistically- and I accept that. I'm proud of that, I'm proud of you, but you've got to make an effort sometime eh?"
Mother: "We could understand, say, if you wanted to join –ooh I don’t know- a drama club or something, but we're not even asking you that. Just to be nice to your school friends once in a while..."
Adrienne, secretly moved: "Look, I do appreciate your efforts, that was a great idea (I s’pose) and I thank you both for your efforts but, you see... we didn't have much in common. She’s such a fake! How could you compare her to me? She’s, she’s, that’s it: she’s the kind of person who wears a Ramones t-shirt: 102% of people who wear Ramones have never even bought a record by them!”

Mother: “Now then, surely this is not possible?”

Adrienne: “You know what I mean!!”

Mother: “No”

Adrienne: “ She thinks she’s so cool cos’ she can mangle three words of French!”

Father: “So can you”

Adrienne: “That’s it, nobody ever tries to understand me!" and she storms off the table.

The parents blame each other for their lack of tact (exchange along the lines of):
Mother: "Splendid. Well done. You could have gone in a little bit more subtly... that was rather lacking in tact..."
Father: "What do you mean, lack of tact? Did you hear yourself, telling her to behave?"

Mother: “I didn’t, I only pointed out, there’s a time and a place for –she needs to grow up”
Amanda, in the middle of it: "Muum… Adrienne's being stroppy again!"
Both parents, at the same time: "Shut up, darling!"

One evening in town. Her father waits for her after she's gone to a rock gig; checks out the poster: The Smiths, at the Reading Hexagon. He goes back to the car, smokes a cigarette; then spots her coming out, attracts her attention as she talks to fellow student types, for once animatedly.
She pretends not to notice him, and he throws his head out the window, shouts: "Sweetypie chubbycheeks, it's meeee... your Daddy... your favourite Dad calling, 'you coming yet or what?"
Rolling her eyes, mortified, she salutes her friends, sulks off in his direction. He drives her back home.
The father, innocently, tries to get interested in the band she went to see.
He sniffs loudly: "Now listen, you haven't been smoking have you? You know your mother. She’ll blow a fuse if she notices, God bless her. ... Hmm? I can smell smoke on your clothes."
Adrienne, as if he were an idiot: "No, Dad, I don't smoke, it's carcinogenic."
Father, puffing away: "Carci... good good. Just say “no”, then."
"So, how was it anyway? ... Fun? Kicked arse? Can’t have compared to my bands... I certainly hope not. Oh the animals I worked for... they came with a health warning in those days! Puking on the plane with the Dolls, food fights with the Ramones, throwing furniture down the pool with Alice... Ha! And what about the time we went fishing with Jimmy and Robert and-Hmm. Er. Maybe not. ... Anyhow, that Smiths lot, how were they then? Did they rrrock ? Do they kick some heavy shit sweet child of mine? Huh?"
Adrienne, rolling her eyes, slumped in her seat: "Great. They were great."
Father: "You like them, huh? ‘The specky one with the quiff? Great quiff to be fair. ... (the bastard, wait til you hit forty.) Is that him, then? The one who seems to be losing his shirt on the poster..."
Adrienne: "Yes Dad. That's the one. And he wears gladiolas in his back pockets."
Father: "Oh yes gladiolas... smashing, super. Hang on: gladiolas? He what?? In his backpocket? What on earth for! Gladiolas up his crack, I ask you, this guy a nancy boy or wot!"
She shoots him a look: "You won't understand Dad, it’s not like that, never mind."
Father, piqued: "What do you mean, I won't understand? And don't you give me these eyes young lady, you know I hate it when you look at me this way! ...” silence “... Petal? ... Is it something I said?"

They arrive home. As she sneaks off to her room silently, he interjects jokingly: "That will be three pounds."
She stares at him blandly.
"I'm not a taxi service, you know.” But she doesn't reciprocate the joke, and shrugs her shoulders. He looks at her turning her back on him and walking away to her room, shakes his head.

Voice-over. Adrienne in her bedroom draws elaborate flowers in her diary, listening to music. (Her drawings could be fantastical / depressing ghosts appearing over the screen against the otherwise peaceful bright blue sky.) She writes: "Nights turn into days, days turn into years, we hurtle towards oblivion and never look back at our shadows, covering our tracks on these shiny shiny roads. Initiate me."

“Adrienne dear, what don’t you find yourself a fellow” her Mum asks her one evening, to her cringing embarrassment. “Here, have a tenner Miss Funny Face, go have a Coke down this notorious den of iniquity, what is it called again, the Portal Turtle? Go show off your lovely frown and meet some nice young frowning man. Come on, off you go! Out of my legs! I need some calm and quiet tonight.”

And so she does: Adrienne gets herself down to the aforementioned pub.
It is frequented by the town's golden youth whom she loves to hate, and who have the time of their lives jumping about, pissed out of their heads right behind her in the background (shot in Reading's Purple Turtle: now defunct). 

She takes out a new pack of cigarettes, tries smoking, coughs, tries again. Changes colour. Orders a stiff drink.
In the background, all sorts of going-ons occur. A blonde girl throws her drink at the guy next to her and storms off. He licks his fingers stoically, wipes them on his shirt. He turns towards Adrienne, and informs her he is
"sooo drunk. Hiya, I’m Melvin."
He offers her his gluey hand; she considers it, and he wipes it on his jeans some more.
"So what you up to, miss? How's things down your end? Funky by the look of it, positively funky. You look like the picture of death, darling; love what you’ve done with your make-up, brings out the dark in your eyes... So what brings you to this god-forshaken place? You don't look like the kind who” (nods at the characters behind them getting up to all sorts) “Oh by the way, can I bum you one?" and he picks a cigarette off her pack. "See, when you try to light up, you don't hold your match up like that.. you hold it like this. Saves you from burning your fingers. Oh, and do turn away from the draft, makes it easier..."
Adrienne listens, vaguely taken aback, slightly horrified but also amused.
He goes on: "Right. I can see you're a right barrel of laughs. Thass OK, thass OK, everyone’s entitled to... Shame though, cos' you're not bad if I may be frank, not bad at all... for an eighties hangover."
She reacts: "Hey, watch your mouth Mister, a bit of respect yeah!"
Melvin: "Waow, she's got a voice! The lady knows talk! All apologies, cross my heart! but as I shaid, I'm like sooo wasted, see... ‘Tell you what, thass pr’bly why I'm talking to you! I 'seen you around, you know? –I ‘seen you around but -lemme tell you sister- no-one in their right mind, nobody sober that is, would dare take on you..."

(Short flash-back of him getting blown out by a girl, looking around in a haze, then turning his attention to Adrienne by utter chance)

.
Slight personal dig here, which she takes on the chin. She snorts: "And who said romance was dead!"
He continues: "Haha, nice one. It'sh not that you're not attractive, like, but you need to chill out a bit love, y'know? Let your hair down, go with the flow, enjoy, enjoy..." pointing at the merry crowd around "Oh and take that broom out of your rectum."
She rises to the bait: "You should be so lucky to have a broom up there! And what exactly do you have to say for yourself huh?What does your pickled brain could possibly have on offer, that would stimulate my interest? Come on, I'm dying to hear..."
Melvin thinks for a moment:
"You know what... That'sh actually a very good question. Very good question indeed. You're on the ball, kid! Let's see, huh... What could I poshibly offer you that would meet your high standards? Hmm... A-ha! Found it. Funny you should ask, I may actually have something you might care for, 'd be rrright up your street! ... What ' you saying?"
She looks at him, vaguely disgusted: "Is that a gun in your pocket, and are you gonna shoot yourself in the foot?"
Melvin: "No no no, it'sh not what you think -they're all the same, all they want is my body! - no, what I have in mind is, well, behind this cold and calculated exterior hides a ruthless businessman. I’m like the total go-getter yeah. I'm an agent for this band, see, a brilliant "cold wave" band I'm putting together, thass right, a cold-wave combo and you look the part. Bloody hell, you do look the part too!" suddenly eyeing her.
Adrienne, intrigued: "Cold wave eh? Like the Cocteau Twins, you mean? The Cure? X Mal Deutschland ? Christian Death?"
Melvin, getting wobbly: "E-xackly! Cock-on! So you know your stuff eh? Very good, very impressive, miss raccoon eyes... Listen, if you ‘serious, if you wanna walk the talk, you could do worse than give it a try, put your attitude to good use like! Give it a go! Hell, you might even enjoy it! Two words for you: join - my - band."
and he passes out on the bar.
Adrienne, on a whim, almost despite herself: "OK then, I'll call your bluff. "
This wakes him up: -"Eh?!!"
Adrienne: "I said OK, let's suck it and see."

The next day. Melvin picks her up in his car: "You're gonna love them, I promise, you're gonna love working with these guys. Sure, they're not the finished article just yet, they lack a certain... finesse, but they're bona fide legit, hundred per cent Cold Wave specialists like they were born and dead to play it"
Adrienne: "Cut the bull, Melv'."
Melvin, coyed: "OK, they can play “Smoke On The Water”.  ... Bloody hell must be the famous Thames Valley air or something, I have a splitting headache..."

They pass through a political march, arrive at a warehouse.

Melvin: "And... here they are, ta-da! The big moment you ‘been waiting for, are you ready to meet... CrunchMonkey!"
He theatrically makes to open the door, doesn't manage: it's locked. "Bugger."

He knocks, and begs "Open up, open up you bums, it's your manager!"
Someone finally lets them in, and Adrienne is introduced to a bunch of losers. They slightly differ from the image Melvin painted. To start with, they're already in their mid-twenties and don't seem to have much respect for Melvin.
One of them: "Fuck me sideways, look what the cat's dragged in."

A flashback shows them, trying every genre, to no avail: comical flashbacks showing their successive efforts (could appear with the dates “February” “May” “June”), dressed in different styles, under different names, endlessly re-arranging the same song according to the latest fashion. Successive names of the band, reflecting their directions: Borstal Breakout (punk), The Light (New Romantic), Necktie (ska), and so on.

Melvin explains: "Gentlemen, let’s engage in some brainstorming here, let’s knock heads together and see what comes up yeah? As I may have already explained, we need direction, we need serious impetus in the right direction and"
Bassist: "Isn't it what we got you for?"
Melvin: "That's right, precisely” –spot-on Bazz! (wink, does that air pistol sign and clicks tongue)- “and therefore I have come up with this brilliant idea which I may have mentioned in passing the other day when we had our weekly meeting"
Drummer: "What meeting?"
Melvin: "Since CrunchMonkey needs new impetus and fresh blood, I felt it might be judicious if we all pulled together as a team and didn't spare any effort, so let’s not leave any stone unturned or cut corners eh? Let’s think outside the frame here! And this stone I'm speaking of -and I'm sure you will agree with me- may reside in a, er... brand new leadership impetus initiative. I mean -hold it there, lads!- I don't mean leadership per se, right? I'm talking about a, er... new stage presence and maybe lyrical input to supplement our, er"
Guitarist : "Cut to the chase, Melv'"
Melvin : "Well -and thank you for allowing me to continue, nice one Guz!- since you've asked, and you have every good reason to, I came up with a smashing idea, smashing idea after much deliberation on my –and some others'- part: Adrienne."
Band : "Adrienne. ... What do you mean, Adrienne ? / You mean a chick?? / You're not serious, are you? And what would she do, we can't have a bird in the band, CrunchMonkey rrrock like mothers!"
Melvin, all reassuring, hands in the air: "I know I know I know, and I hear what you're saying, I hear you guys –I’m like totally taking it on board, make no mistake about it- but Adrienne here is an experienced lyrical writer with a terrific stage presence: just look at her. Look at her guys, doesn't she ooooze the "s" factor, eh ? Eh? Com’on lads… Look at these furious eyes, who wouldn't want to stare at them from the comfort of the back row, huh?"
He turns to Adrienne, who's kept silent: "Ha ha, only kidding, they're only kidding Addy, ‘bunch of jokers all, eh? I was just about to tell them I swear, didn't have the chance, oh well we probably discussed it, they must have forgotten is all, no big deal, right?"

Meanwhile, the band, a bit less vehemently: "You must be joking... no way, I can't believe what I'm hearing, whatever happened to CrunchMonkey's ethics? No surrender no retreat, baby, no surrender!"
and then, gradually: "Oh what the fuck! Why not...? / What ‘we got to lose? / You never had any ethics, moron!  And you can't sing for toffee either! / Oh yeah, and who's the only one who can hit the high notes here? / Hit the high notes, hit the high notes, kick Kazz' in the ghoulies we'll see if he can't hit the same notes as you! / Hey leave me alone, I'm not the one who insisted on wearing a kilt!"

Melvin: "Guys guys, keep it real guys, calm down calm down, we've got company here, remember? What will our lovely Adrienne think..?"
The guys stop bickering, and check her out: "Huh. A chick then. I like that, I like the idea. ‘Just hope you're not in it for the money, love, cos' CrunchMonkey are for real, yeah, we –like- totally rock this joint!!" (camera pans to abysmal setting)
Adrienne : "I thought you were cold wave."
Bazz': "Oh yeah, oh yeah we are. Too right we're cold wave, always were …that's the rage these days, so... Huh, I take it you're pretty dense in that department yeah?"
Adrienne: "Dense? I suppose illiterate oiks you could say that, yes and Melvin? may I have a word with you?"
Melvin: "Most certainly, but first I think we should celebrate our new addition to the team –We’re like a big family, so we are- anyone for the pub? or... oh maybe not, me head 's killing me. Adrienne, since you're around ... Coffee?"
Adrienne: "Yes please, black with no sugar."
Melvin: "Oh. ... Right."
Adrienne: "And I still want a word with you."
Melvin: "Of course. Right away."
He follows her to the kitchen corner, where she proceeds to give him a right bollocking, witnessed by the rest of the band who are laughing their heads off: "That chick's got balls, and let's face it, there's no greater compliment."
Melvin and Adrienne come back.
Buzz: "We... we've had a chat of our own Melv and the truth is, we're ain't too happy with you either -Some might even say we're two stations beyond Dagenham –so consider this to be your last chance mate; we'll take on Adrienne here, see how it pans out. If it doesn't, well... you're out on your arse mate." The other ones nod in agreement.
Melvin: "That’s fair enough, ‘totally understand, nice one Baz' mate -straight from the hip eh, ‘like it!"
Adds the drummer: "Truth is, love, let's face it, it's either getting a bird to sing or... I s’pose we’ll have to turn disco."
Disgusted faces all round, collective sighs; his comrades stare at him, furiously. "What? ... Oh yeah, I wasn't supposed to say that"

Over the next few weeks, the band give Adrienne her chance. She renames them "Nada 99"; sorts out their clothes: takes them to charity shops and army clothes shops, has them dye their garments black (the boys excitedly compare their new attires); orders them to get their hair cut short: radical crew-cut; provides them with identical sunglasses;
(the bassist objects: "But I can't see my bass anymore!"
Her response: "You’ll have to learn how to play then.")

She takes them in hand, to Melvin's relief. The guys gain in confidence.

In the evenings, she sets out to adapt her private ramblings into the most depressing lyrics ever (parody of The Smiths meets Joy Division here, complete with lines reminiscent of genuine lyrics), pondering over her precious diary. "Hmmm... no no, not that, can't possibly... hmmm, maybe..."

She still doesn't sing though, and the band can’t wait to hear her:
Buzz: "So, you gonna sing us something today Addy?"
"Er... kinda sore throat. But I wrote it all down, look"
"Oh yeah........ sore throat. Looks like I'll have to do it again, then... Let's have a look, shall we" Reads the lyrics, asks her: "Hmm, that's not bad, not bad at all for a beginner... but what's this? rotting monkeys? Oh. Rotting donkeys. Right. ... I say, that's pretty extreme though? Don't tell me you wrote it yourself? I mean, surely you don't mean burying rotting donkeys in my brainless neck ...whatever this means."
Adrienne, secretly pleased : "Nah, ‘nicked it off a book!"
Guitarist, relieved : "Phew! ‘Thought so. No disrespect kiddo, but that looked too good to be true. Let's try it then, “burying rotting donkeys in your brainless neck”. I s’pose that could work."
Melvin is getting nervous; tells her: "Come on now, you can't let me down Addy, you'll just have to give it a go girl, both feet first, deep end of the pool yeah"
Adrienne, also between her teeth: "I, I'm not ready, I told you, I swear I will, I know I must but... not just yet, yeah?"

At last, forced to take to the stage in rehearsal, unsure of how to do it, she starts singing ("Ahem...") in a snarling, bored way (as if to protect her own feelings which she is –ironically- publicly expressing for the first time), as if vaguely disgusted with the world around: think Lou Reed meets Mark E. Smith meets Johnny Rotten. The band feel at first unsure, then play along to it, adapt to her delivery, getting into it gradually and finally bringing the (initially rambling) ten minute performance to a thunderous end.
They end up impressed with her:
"I like what you did there! Why didn't I think of it first?"
"Waow, at long fuckin’ last... and to think I had this crazy idea you couldn't sing, that was brilliant, babe!"
"mweelll... Don't want to sound sour grapes but I could sing better, you know yourselves -back when you would let me, that is..."
"But you sing off-key, you pillock!"
"That was the point! It was all part of the plan, don’t you get it??"
"Whatever, it's too late now, we've got ourselves a new style, sooorted! I say roll with it, yeah"
"Count me in, let's set up a gig now, time for a road-test!"
Melvin, rubbing his hands: "Didn't I tell you, guys? Didn't I tell you? Huh? Huh? Learn how to trust your enlightened leader for once!"
Buzz: "Melv ..you ain't our leader."
Melvin: "OK. Right-on, Buzz mate."

Adrienne's room. She gets into serious writing in the evenings; produces more and more lyrics based on her various diaries; channels her feelings, while smoking furiously and throwing first drafts over her shoulder (the camera reveals a growing pile of sheets of paper littering her room). Shots of her pacing her room up and down in despair. Daydreams for a while, tries writing inside the bath-tub, lying on her band with her legs up against the wall; attempts meditation; cracks open a pack of chocolate biscuits or sweets to be determined; gets herself together, finally sits down to it in the living-room.
She bites on her pen: "night... right... might... tearing the night, crossing the night to the other side... there's a place where we'd all like to go... hmm, huh, might as well. Ah, I can't possibly / oh what the hell! There's a place where we'd..." She starts writing again, sniggering to herself. (Still-life snaps of characters in tragic positions enacting her visions could appear at this stage.)
She reads: "All we have is easy answers, Scattered over the neon horizon, All we have is ready lies, Pre-digested ready for consumption, We could be so happy, You and you and you and me, Luxury Calm and Voluptuousness, Maybe in the next world, Maybe in the next world, Everybody loves you in your mirror,  And the sun always shines on TV."

Her father, passes by, a can of beer in hand; congratulates her: "Aaaah petal, ‘always knew you had it in you... Good on you honey pie, go for it! It's so nice to see you get into something at last. Oh, but you're writing? Did I break your concentration"
Adrienne lifts her head: "Yes Dad. Composing, can’t you see?"
Father: "Good good; I'll leave you to it then; I take it that's a new song eh, excellent, go ahead and do us proud kiddo. That's the way, keep at it and the truth will out in the end."
Amanda: "Daaad, I need the table for my homework; it's for physics and I need to lay out all the books for the elements; can you ask Adrienne to go write her composing in her room please!!"
Father: "(Oh my, here we go again...)  Ahem, Amanda? I suppose your sister needs this, er... environment to get creative, you know? So why don’t you, may I suggest you go and do your physics in your room, surely you can manage –lay your books on the floor if you have to- let's leave her to her muse yeah? There's a good girl."
Amanda stomps off, so stunned that she forgets to throw a tantrum.

Father comes closer and tries to read over Adrienne's shoulder. She doesn't let him. He backs off: "Right right. Need for privacy, totally understand. Artist’s prerogative. Secret garden an all that. The miracle of creation. So. ... Petal. .........  What’s it called then?"
Adrienne, not lifting her head: "Darker Than A Thousand Black Holes".

In band practice. The band practice hard with renewed drive; gain in confidence.
Soon Melvin plans their first gig. Adrienne's mum prints some t-shirts: "Nada 99", with a design chosen by Adrienne (statue of an angel).
Adrienne, to her sister's stupefaction, hands out flyers at school, actually engaging people in conversations. Most kids just drop the flyer straight away, but a guy stops and reads it:

Adrienne, on automatic: "Come check out this band, check them out and impress your friends, I hear they rrrock, this is –like- their first gig in this town yeah, come and check them out, they're on tour"
Boy: "Al...right... maybe I will... who ‘they exactly? What kind of music they play?"
Adrienne: "Oh. Er. ... Ahem, I understand they're kinda Goth y’know, you should totally check them out: they rock by all accounts!"
Boy: "Goth eh? That figures. Nice artwork... Nada 99... I suppose you ‘seen them, you ‘gonna tell me they’re great, right?"
Adrienne: "Well er... not as such but yes, no, yes actually, I suppose you could say so, I ‘seen them in action oh yes, and they're worth checking out! Make sure to come early, it's next Wednesday at seven."
Boy: "Hmm... Might... if there's no match on the telly..."
Adrienne: "Ah yes, football (!!) -See you next Wednesday then!"

The big day arrives; the whole family travel en masse to the gig. It takes place at a bingo hall. Eight o'clock.
Melvin, in a suit smeared with fake blood, jumps on stage to an audience of Bingo playing pensioners: "Al-riiight everyone! Are you ready to rrrock, Reading? I –can’t – hear – you!” (silence, naturally) “ Whoo-hoo! Yeah!  Out-standing! (don’t answer all at once!)  Ahem er... This is the time, this is the place, here they are, by special request, here we give you, Reading’s finest! And now, BingoBall is immensely proud to announce a very special moment, er very special indeed (you don’t say)” (increasingly flustered) “This event deserves no introduction and therefore no further ado! Ladiiies and gentlemen, coming from straight down the road, go past the chippy and turn left at the traffic light ha ha ha (ahem), I have the immense pleasure and privilege to, er, let's have a big show of hands from BingoBall! Yeah!! It is BingoBall's pleasure and Reading's privilege -let's not mince words here- Reading Council In Person- to introduce... for their first Reading show ever... (or at least in public) ladiesngentlemen, boys and girls of the undead... CrunchMonkey!!!  (Oh shit I meant Nada 99!) Yeah! Nada99! Let's hear it for the Nads, whoo-hoo!!"
He finally exits, dripping with sweat.  Adrienne takes to the stage, cheered on by her family and half a dozen teenagers who have turned up.

The music starts, gradually swells, and then she starts shrieking: "I'll calm down! I'll calm down!
-But I'm still shaking.
I was never faithful, And I was never one to trust, Half suicidal, Half postal, I was never one of you, Never one of yours, Watching the world go to hell in a hand basket, Through my window, Through my bunker window, Black heart!!, Black heart!! Eat your heat out and spit it out, Eat your heart and feed it to the pigs, Black heart!!"
End of the furious first song. The family stare, open mouthed. Mother takes it in her stride, with a polite smile. 

Then a couple of youths starts to applaud enthusiastically.
Adrienne, not missing a beat, snarls "why, thangouverymuch, beer bellies and varicose gussets, our next song is called "Killed By Death" -one ta three four!"
The band launches into the second song :
"And the circle of life runs on, The circle of life leaves many fates behind, He who follows his father's footsteps, To his pint sized grave, She who follows her mother's muffled cries, To her scented asphyxiation, There is a cry that never rings out, There are cries that never ring out, In the dead of night"

Melvin, all chummy, nudges Adrienne's father: "Pretty cool eh, eh, what do you say?" The father shoots him a look. Melvin moves away discreetly. 

Three songs later, end of the gig.
Adrienne, royally: "Why, thangyouverymuch ya bunch of philistines, see you all for Halloween and don't bother dressing up, you'll look fine as you are". Drops her mike, and departs.
The group of youths applaud vigorously, the remaining pensioners switch their hearing aid back on, and keep playing.

Backstage. Adrienne collapses in a heap, shaking; she drains a pint: "Ohmygod ohmygod, oh sweetjesusmotherofgod fuckfuckfuckfuckfuck"
The guitarist reassures her: "Aaah don't worry, you did great I tell ya, you did great for a first time -No, serious, you did, you should be proud, you'll be alright kid! …Compared to our own first time ahem… And not only that, but with you around, I'm sure nobody noticed my bum notes, ha ha!"

At the venue’s entrance. Melvin slips a couple of pounds to the applauding kids. One of them (the one who actually studied Adrienne's flyer): "Thanks man but what's that for?"
Melvin: "Why, only what's promised. Two quid for your good self; now don't get greedy on me!"
Youth: "What you talking about, greedy? ‘Never saw you before, mate!"
Melvin, dumbfounded: "Bloody hell thatss right, you’re not with them, what I meant it's just, er, ‘thought you were part of the crew, y’know, the roadies for the night ahem..."
He flounders.
The youth turns round and shoots a look at the four others laughing merrily, leaving with not a care in the world for the band busy unplugging their equipment on their own.
In the background, Adrienne's parents, even if a bit embarrassed, are congratulating her nevertheless.
Mother: "Well Adrienne, that was... highly interesting."
Father: "Oh yes, highly interesting indeed."
Adrienne: "Interesting? That's the worst possible insult!"
Father: "No no, that's not what your mother meant, she meant to say, we're very proud of you, very proud, that was quite a show you put on, I was very impressed with the cigarette stage act  -Great idea, pretending to smoke! (ahem...). We woz dead impressed"
But she's already walked off, and the parents start arguing again.
Mother: "Well I had to come up with something, you were just standing there with your mouth open"
Father: "I never did! I was enjoying it! In my own way I was enjoying it! Reminded me of –oh well, that was years ago, you wouldn’t understand, “interesting” indeed... Oh we’re up for it again when she gets home, we’ll never hear the end of it"

The youth goes after Adrienne, but she's disappeared into the night.

Another concert, in the back of a pub. This time, more people (30 odd youths) attend.
Lights are dimmed. Adrienne gets on stage, waving a chandelier about ceremonially...and tosses it over her shoulder casually.
Melvin, backstage, rushes to extinguish the possible fire in a panic.
She groans: "Come to see the freak show, maggots?"
Enthusiastic cheering: "Yeaahh!"
The band starts their set, which goes down well. The first song goes like this :
"Swallowing dreams like diamonds, Stretched on your tombstone, Why did you go on your own, Staying here without you is the worst punishment, Reflecting beams of moonlight, Laughing in one's general direction, I lust for more pain, That will keep me awake, I hunger for ravishment, I hunger for stray silver bullets, From a dead sea of vivid memories, I hunger for hopes to feed on"

The audience listen, captivated. The publican notices they don't drink enough beer.

Another concert scene: this time about fifty excited kids. Melvin sells t-shirts by the toilet door; counts the fivers at the entrance. One of the stooges he hired for the first gig comes up to ask him for his fee, Melvin chases him away: "What ‘you on about? Never saw you before son, don't know what you're talking about –Scram! (Besides, we don't need you anymore.)"

After the gig, Adrienne crumbles in a heap, shaking: "Oh fucfuckfuckfuck, jesus thanks god it's over...".

She leaves the dressing room, and is approached by a teenager from the University's newspaper: "Hi I'm Andy, I write for "Spock", the Uni paper; we'd like to do a short piece on you since you're a local band and all... would you be interested?"
Adrienne, secretly excited, ceremoniously lights up a cigarette and adopts a pause, as if not bothered: "Why, sure, why not? Fire away, but quick, I can only give you ten, twenty minutes tops"
Melvin interjects: "Hang on mate, did you clear with me first, what is this, an interview? for which paper? Local press? National press? The NME? Sounds? Did you check with me, I'm the agent here!"
Adrienne, sweetly : "Melvin?"
Melvin : "Yes Addy?"
Adrienne blows smoke: "Fuck off babes."
Melvin: "OK-dokey."
Andy : "Al...right, huh, hmm... first of all, where did you guys meet? Some of you guys look familiar, I'm pretty sure I've seen you before but can’t quite place you, ‘specially the guitarist, he looks awfully familiar..."
Adrienne: "Actually we didn't meet in a proper sense. They picked me up in the cemetery one evening after I had passed out; Buzz' was cutting through to get to Cemetery Junction see -you know Liverpool Rd.?- well he spotted me, I had zonked out (long story I won't go into) ‘took me to his place, threw me under the shower, the usual industrial coffee essetera -and the rest is history."
Andy, excitedly: "Really?? Can I print it, ‘that a true story?"
Adrienne: "Of course not. The truth is, we met at McDo's; Gazz' was working there, cleaning the toilet with one hand and flipping burgers with the other, it was a Friday night I think, I was starving. Bezz' was in front of me in the queue."
Andy, disappointed: "...Oh."
Adrienne: "I'm only joking! -'Pulling your chain, mate: there is no way I would ever set foot in that den of iniquity, no way: meat is murder and complacent McDo customers will rot from their bloated inside as is only fair; you should check what Conflict has to say about them, we're all veggies in the band now, I made sure of that ...except Bim'. (But then he's the drummer, need I say more). No, the sad truth is, they chose me to front their band one night I was looking for business behind the church -you know the bench by Heelas? Well that’s the place to go for “action”- So that's the disappointingly prosaic truth (but I don't want to talk about it, OK?). Right, I'm afraid I gottago now, it's been nice talking to you, if you want to continue this conversation, why don't you come down to our next gig which will take place on the...? on the... Melv! Melv! Come here! Now!"
Melvin: "Yes, m’lady?"
Adrienne, making eyes at him: "Which day is our next gig again? You know the one...  the one we talked about..."
Melvin: (???)  "Oh yes. That one! We're playing next Friday at, er... the venue has yet to be confirmed, the Butcher's Arms has refused us permission and the Bucket of Blood is under renovation, ‘tell you what mate, leave us your number and I'll let you know."

After a few gigs, the band become the toast of the town's alienated youth, as hitherto invisible / unacknowledged similarly disaffected teenagers flock to their (notably increasingly less shambolic) gigs. Not just Goths, but fun-loving trendies too, after a while. 

She strikes a chord... but also attracts opportunists. New types of "phonies" turn up, as well as hangers-on. The group members start to get big for their boots, cocky, scoring with groupies for the first time. She also starts to enjoy the attention poured upon her by her new fans, following her in a minibus to a gig in another town (Oxford?).  As they launch into their first number, they realise that their audience is almost entirely made up of their local (Reading) fans, who have attended their previous gig. Smiley faces; feelings of satisfaction; Adrienne even breaks into a little dance every now and then onstage.

In short everything seems well, for a start: her parents are delighted, Melvin is anticipating his big belated pay-off, the rest of the band are finally laaargin' it, and Adrienne herself starts to enjoy the ride. They are getting more accomplished, professional, ruthless in their dealings with the fans / venue owners / etc.

One morning in the street, two surly youths casually wolf-whistle her as she walks by.
Then one exclaims: "Fuck me sideways, that's the bird from Nada!!"
His mate: "Nada, whazz's that? An advert?"
Youth number 1: "Nah mate, that's this band innit? Ellie’s brother is dead into them, he played them to me, we went to see them like, when they were played the children's hospital, it was a right laugh! Well, that's her alright, that's the singer, I recognise her, shit I 'gotta speak to her..."
He catches up with her and Adrienne, looking studiously bored, signs an autograph without stopping.

At school. A fan accosts her: "Look, I've copied your lyrics!" shoving her satchel into her face:
slogan "There are no solutions, there is only solutions".
The fan asks: " So, what you up to next ? You' godda start recording yeah, you need to release something yeah? You need to do some proper records now!"
Adrienne, trying to move on despite the over-enthusiastic interruption: "Records... well yes, sure... that's the next step isn't it, our manager’s looking into it, you bet he is, I'm dead for it yeah, dead for it but first, we need to perfect our set-list"
Fan: "Perfecting your set, right. It's perfect as it is though, you only need a couple ‘new songs now, ten’s all you need, ten and that should be enough, you’re nearly there"
Adrienne: "Hmm... I’m sure you're quite right...That’s why I'm working on new ones. I’m always working on new songs, I've got lyrics coming up, you’ll soon hear them..."
Someone else, joining the first fan and crowding her: "Cool ! Have you got any more like "Killed By Death", I fuckin' love this one, it’s so true, it's like... talking to me, you know? I couldn't put it any better myself, it –like- totally represents how I feel"
Adrienne, trying to walk past them: "Ah that’s great, “Killed By death” it is then (!?!), ‘very kind of you to say so, very flattering, I'll try my best to oblige but, you know, I'm always evolving like, always exploring new directions; we'll see, maybe they'll sound a bit less, er... melodramatic"
Fan, puzzled: "Less melo??"
Adrienne: "Yeah I mean, more personal?"
Fan: "Ah yes, more personal, that's more like it! The usual doom-and-gloom, like it, like it a lot! Don't let us down eh, don't forget your fans Addy!" (Adrienne should have been seen to cringe at the nickname “Addy” over the course of the story)

She winces at the nickname, eventually forces her way through; makes it to the classroom, arriving late to her shame.
Some of her classmates nudge each other in the ribs, whispering: "Who does she think she is / look who's 'ere, Miss Berkshire superstar / making her grand entrance are we?"
Adrienne pretends not to hear them.

In a pub one evening. She walks in, looks around; goes to the cigarette machine where she overhears someone telling his mate that
"this is the pub she goes to, I swear, my mate told me he's seen her here the just other day." She listens, a bit flattered, but he continues "We'll see if we can nab her. I have so many questions to ask..."
Other voice: "Right right, me too! Thanks for the tip bro, wouldn’t have known otherwise"
First fan: "Did you try her school? Keep it simple! After all it’s not like there’s hundreds of them in town, you’ll soon find her.  Anyway, let's wait, she'll turn up, just you wait"

Adrienne stops dead in her tracks; turns round; sees that there is no way out through the front door; sneaks off to the bathroom where she wipes off her elaborate make-up ...that another girl is precisely re-touching up. Adrienne takes off her black jacket and ties it around her waist: "Hmm..."; she also takes down her earrings.
She goes back into the bar area.

Waiting to get served at the bar, she finds herself next to the (increasingly drunken) fan (whose voice she heard) patronisingly commenting to his (impressed?) mate that:
"Ah-what-do-you-know... doesn’t show her face anymore eh... tss, they’re a foockin' sell-out is what! All they want is get signed, and to a major too -They're letting us down, we wos' here for them from the beginning and now I hear that their manager is sucking up to the big boys, he's actually talking to record companies in London!"
His mate: "Well... what's wrong with that? I've seem them five times already -five times. It's about time they recorded anything if you ask me. Besides, it'd be cool to put Reading on the map."
Fan number one: "Nah... they're all the same mate, maybe that was to be expected, they're gonna do another Pale Fountains or something... Why not get on Top of the Pops too while you're at it! Nah... Tell you what, I saw them when they started and they couldn't play. ‘Truth is though, they were sooo much better!"
His mate: "How so? How could they be if they couldn’t play?"
Fan: "I’m telling you! They wanted it more see, they had more... soul. The meant it, yeah. You look at her now, she sometimes looks like she's going through the motions, tell you wot, this will end in rotten tomatoes, rotten tomatoes! We won’t be fooled again!"

Walking back home later. Adrienne gives her military black jacket to a tramp going through his well-rehearsed spiel without much conviction (“’Got twenty pee for a cup a’tea” etc.).
Shocked, he can't believe his luck at the gift; actually hands it back to her:

"Hey there, what ‘you doing luv'? Don't take your clothes off like that, you gonna catch your death! Oh... right... You wanna give it to me? I see... Now don’t be silly, that's a good jacket tha', what will your parents say? Can't possibly take it, take it back, you take it back at once or you'll be in trouble and who’s up for it again, your parents will say I stole it from you!"
Startled by his reaction, she gives it back to him; runs away, exasperated.

She reads in a magazine that Robert Smith only listens to Janet Jackson: feels at first outraged, then amused.

The next day, over breakfast. Adrienne asks her mother to take her shopping for clothes in the town-centre mall (the Butts Centre).
Mother, baffled: "You sure, Adrienne? What is it again, what did this Melvin character come up with this time, ooh I fear the worst? Oh no, I'm not buying you any leather if it's what you’re after, no way young lady, couldn't afford it anyway!"
Adrienne, laughing: "No no Mum, no leather jacket, that's not what I had in mind –Besides, Melvin's got no say in the matter, that will be the day when he tells me what to wear. No, I was thinking... you know... maybe something more summer appropriate... something nice?"
Father, choking: "Something nice?? Something nice, are you alright petal? You don't mean like... my daughter's not gonna start dressing like a floozy is she! I won't have it, I just won't have it, not in this house, the answer is no: “something nice” my arrr-my foot!"
Adrienne, laughing harder: "No no, not that either, gee... relax everyone, I was only asking something for the summer, y’know... like less theatrical perhaps"
The parents look at each other.
Father, suspicious: "What - is – going – on - here... Are you sure it's not another of you crazy ideas? Another great scheme of yours? ... You guys ‘not going to start needing new clothes every other week now, are you?"
Adrienne, getting annoyed: "No, once again, no. I say, have a little faith!  All I'm saying is, Mum, can’t we go shopping for once, just the two of us -what's so wrong with that?? All I want is maybe something a bit less noticeable, a bit more fun to wear -I am allowed to go civvies once in a while aren’t I? It's not like I 'm on parade 24/7!"
Mother: "No of course not darling, I don't mind at all, don't get us wrong, I'll just... I'll see what I can do, we'll find some time on Saturday, sure..."

After Adrienne leaves the table, her dad lowers his paper and tells his wife sternly: "I want a word with that Marvin."

Another concert. In between two songs, as Adrienne announces "the next one is a new song, we thought we might get a bit more experimental here, I'm sure you'll appreciate..."
the crowd calls: "Killed By Death! Killed By Death! Play Killed By Death!"
Adrienne blanks them out but frowns nonetheless. The crowd insist. The bassist whispers in her ear "So... we 'playing it or not? "
She hushes him away, and starts again: "As I was sayiiing... here is a fuckin' new song which we busted our fuckin' arses rehearsing OK!"

Increasingly annoyed, Adrienne starts watching "Top of the Pops": she sings to New Order / Depeche Mode, even Pet Shop Boys, all of whom are featured on the programme.
Browsing through a record shop, she studies Depeche Mode's lyrics, shamefully hiding them under the cover of another (punk) record. She borrows her sister's  Madonna cassette, and draws the curtains in her bedroom. Closes her door to dance to "Into The Groove".

She also starts coming down to breakfast actually wanting to eat one. Her parents, ready to launch into their pep talk routine, look at each other, puzzled. 

She gradually takes down posters on her wall and wears colours.

Adrienne’s father contacts Melvin: "Ah Mr. Melvin, yes... this is  Adrienne’s Dad. How are you. Great great, fascinating, listen young man, I need a word with you…” (the camera could cut to Melvin interrupted in the middle of a “tender moment” with a young lady) “I feel we have some kind of... situation developing here and I just wonderred... It's Adrienne you see, she hasn't been her usual self lately, 'been acting all kinds of strange"
Silence.
Melvin, in a panic, puts way the joint he was smoking and coughs hard, trying to adjust his voice:
"Right right. Oh, I see. That. Oh dear. I can assure you I'm as shocked as you are Sir;  Addy -er I mean Adrienne- is obviously never far away from my thoughts. Yes, yes, she’s been rather impetuous as of late, what can I say, it will be that wacky backy, I have no idea how she could possibly have got hold of... "
Father, puzzled: "Wacky backy? What on God's Earth are you talking about??"

Home, the night before an important showcase gig. Adrienne’s parents confront her:
Father: "Adrienne darling, could we have a word with you for a second? Just a quick one, nothing serious, oh and don't pull that face please, you know it never fails to upset me -Anyway, er… your mother was just telling me about some... growing concern she’s been –er- experiencing and all, something’s just occurred to us regarding you lately and –hmm- as of late."
Adrienne (wearing a coloured top): "Yes, what is it, what have I done again, if it's the smoking, I promise I'll keep it down, it's getting rather expensive actually, don't you worry about that, I'm no princess Margaret!"
Mother: "No dear, it's not your smoking –although you do know how I feel about it. No, it’s just we have noticed lately, your heart doesn't seem to be on the, er... job anymore, we had a talk with Melvin, and he told us you were considering... a change of style? Introducing a dance element -Dance element?? I always thought that this was Amanda's territory, not yours. Nada surely does not stand for disco.”

Father (in a faded Who t-shirt?), punching the table: “does not stand for disco!”

Mother: “ And we were just wondering, are you serious about it? Have you discussed it with the rest of the band? Not for me to comment on your activities but... we are starting to wonder. We ask ourselves questions. Just when for once it looked like you had something going, are you really sure you want to" (interrupted)
Adrienne: "I don't believe it; I don't believe what I'm hearing -You guys are joking, right? You must be joking...?"
Father: "Listen petal, tomorrow’s your big day, you biggest day even. From what I understand shedloads of record executives and Chelsea supporters will turn up to see you -why Chelsea fans I don't know, but that's what Marvin told me: said the place would be “packed with head-hunters” and you need to be on the ball. So this is it, kiddo, your chance to get somewhere -listen to me for once, this could be serious- this is your chance to actually make it and sign a contract with these record people. Right there. A contract. Do you realise what it means? Think about it... think about what’s involved.

As you know, I was a roadie before I met your good mother, and why? Because I was not good enough to make it onstage. I used to see these guys, night after night, milking it -This is the life! This is it! Let’s face it, people like us don't stand much of a chance, but here you have a fabulous opportunity to make it happen: this is it, love! This is the one!  Your big chance! You can't blow it just like that! You've got to go for it and finish the job! Who knows what happens afterwards, it might last an album, maybe two, but believe me -believe me- it's worth the ride. What else have you got to look forward to in Reading? Huh? So go for it, give it all that you've got! And if you feel that... if you feel like you're growing out of it, so fuckin' what! You wouldn’t know, but Charlie Watts of the Stones, he’s famous for hating rock!  Your man has always hated rock: he's a jazz fan! Jazz! And so what? He's kept at it, he's enjoyed the ride, he’s paid his dues! (Still does too, hmm.) It's like... so many guys in bands, they hate each other's guts you would not believe, like" (interrupted)
Adrienne: "But that's not me, it's not me anymore, I'm getting out of it, I wanna move on! It was fun for a while, sure, and I enjoyed it, I was able to let it out and maybe even reached out to a few people out there, I appreciate that, they could relate to me -in fact, they do relate to me ...but this is getting a bit scary now, precisely. It’s not so fun anymore. They relate to me like they don't relate to anyone else including themselves, like I am some kind of guide -It's only a band! I wanna be allowed some time off! I don't want to get crowded every time I step out of the door by someone who's modeled herself on me! I have to get out while I still can!"
Mother, to her husband: "Shush! You let me talk now, don't get over excited, remember your blood pressure. Listen Adrienne, what your father is trying to say... You know how emotional he gets. At the end of the day, what we're trying to say is... nobody's holding a gun to your head. It’s just you have to understand our concerns, your band's worries, your responsibilities, everyone's understandably getting a bit tense... At the end of the day you’ll do what you have to do. We'll always respect your decision whatever it is. Just bear in mind some people look up to you now, you've gone so far already..."
Adrienne: "I’m perfectly aware of the situation!"
The conversation doesn’t progress much further.

Biggest concert venue so far. The band prepare to play their biggest gig yet, to an audience of record company head-hunters ready to sign them after much excited hearsay. 

The ridiculously coiffured and dressed self-important scouts congregate at the back (i.e. at the bar) where they eye each other suspiciously, getting drunk, recognising each other from many previous assignments.
Finally, one pony-tailed scout to another: "So. I know what you’ re thinking: are they the new Sundays. I hear they're the new Sundays. Or the ungaelic Cranberries, only harder"
His colleague, trying to sound better informed: "The Sundays? Nah mate, it's not what I was told, your info’s out of whack: more like some kind of Pop Will Kill Itself -but with a little girls choir singing."
Third one, even more ridiculously attired: "Pff, you're both way off! I’m reliably informed they sound like The Woodentops meet Virgin Prunes with an electronic touch, the singer is some kind of female Robert Smith. Only less animated."
"Well, we'll find out soon enough... Two hundred kids in swingin' Reading can't be all wrong."
"Two hundred? I hear they regularly draw five hundred -and that's excluding the usual parents and girlfriends."
"Five hundred is an unlikely figure for a dump like this. Five hundred here would fill the Astoria 2."
"You say the Astoria 2... with that level of traction, I could offer them a support slot at the Town and Country."
"Say, fellows, it's getting on a bit, weren't they supposed to start at eight? It's already half past -Don't tell me they cancelled, this is valuable pub time we're losing here!"
"Nice try, why don't you make your way home then?"
"You would like that, wouldn’t you! You’re not gonna snatch them from under my nose again -you still owe me for Yeah God, remember? I would have killed to sign them"
"Eh, eh! That’s godda hurt: these guys're gonna be giants, and mine all mine. Sorry mate!"
"Hmm... I suppose you can have Yeah God and I’ll raise you 70 Gwen Pary. Game over. Now then. What’s the story here? I s’pose all we can do is wait for these little madams to fuckin’ consent to turn up..."
"Do you mean they're all birds??"
"That's what I may have heard, I ain't saying..."

Backstage, Melvin is having a crisis: Adrienne is nowhere to be seen. He phones her parents; they assure him she is on her way.

Dressing room. The lads are getting ready, indulging in "Spinal Tap" moans: "Oooh no, I can't possibly share a towel with them, iss unhygienic -I want me own towel, thank you very much, and no paper tissues this time! Is that clear, Mel?"
Melvin: "Yeah yeah, sure, whatever... I'll get you some, you’ll all get yours -Tell you what, I have a few spare ones with the Ramada Hotel logo on, is that better?"
Drummer: "Ramada, classy... Oh, and make sure that the idiot doesn't flash his light in my face again during “Apocalypse Part Two” -I got totally blinded last time... I had to play the last three songs with my eyes closed!"
Bassist: "...not that we noticed, mind."
Drummer, menacing: "And what exactly do you mean by that?"
Bassist: "Nothing nothing."
Guitarist: "Hang on, is this Pepsi? I can' t have Pepsi, I specifically specified Coke with my whisky! See to it, Merv’, I can't have it, it kills the taste, its sickening sugary substance clearly clashes with my delicate palate oh but for the grace of God, why am I surrounded by incompetents, incompetents and half-wits, how many times do I need to tell you: Coke is natural, Pepsi is horrible chemical sludge!"

Back door / backstage. Adrienne eventually turns up, but with a bright dress under her greyish green raincoat (the colour of Joy Division "Still").
Melvin: "Addy, do you know what time it is?? We're supposed to be on in ten, we are seriously testing their audience’s patience now, if we wait any longer they’ll eat you alive!” gasps “?!? What’s this?? Where’s your dress and your make-up? Don't tell me you too want me to, I am not doing  your make-up you hear? OK OK, I'll do you a quick Jaz Coleman zebra or something –but that's as far as I go! One Robert Smith lipstick coming up!"
Adrienne: "No need Melvin, I'm not doing it."
Melvin: "What do you mean you’re not doing it?? You can’t be serious!! ... Oh. OK. Sorry. OK. I apologise for raising my voice. Fine. Adrienne dear, do accept my apologies, your dress will be, er... fine; it’s just fine. After all, stage frock or no stage frock -same difference, right? You' gonna kill them dead, oh yes, there’s my little soldier, ‘gonna blow them out of the water babes, attaboy!"
Adrienne: "Melvin Melvin, you didn’t hear what I said. I'm out, this is it. I just came to say goodbye and quit the band, can’t carry on like this."
Melvin, turning white: "Adrienne, you must be kidding... pleasepleaseplease, don't let me down here, you can't do that to me... After all we've been through, huh? What will everyone say? This is the big one tonight, pleasepleaseplase, any other time but not tonight!!"
Adrienne: "You - are - not - listening. After careful consideration, I have decided upon leaving the band. Yes it has been fun but I have to move on, I have to do what’s right and consider my own direction. I am stepping down with immediate effect but providing you with more than adequate replacements that will keep you safe. Introducing..." (Pointing to somewhere off-screen)
Melvin: "What? A replacement, where? Who do you have in mind?"

(The camera could sweep round the venue and show the record company scouts at the bar, Amanda, Adrienne’s parents?, back to Melvin.)

Adrienne peers through the side of the stage curtain:
"Come here. See this kid with our red shirt on? He can do our first song, knows it by heart; that girl there with the pink hair, she can do "Darker" and "I Met The Beast". The fat kid with our other t-shirt, he's great at "English Fans In The Sun", he even corrected me the last time round; finally, go ask for a trio to take turns for the finale, they'll fight each other to get onstage. They will, you know. So you see: the band's sorted. The answers are out there; it's up to you to spot them! Normally I would have selected Buzz to take my place, but he's too busy posturing with his guitar trying to impress the girls. He’d come up with more noodles than a Chinese take-away if he had his way."
Melvin, suddenly serious: "Let's cut the crap; I can see you've got your mind made up. Yeah? ... ‘Thought so. OK then, fair play Adrienne; to be honest, I could see it coming for a mile, especially when you started going on about introducing a dance element in our music. A dance element, what next! Why not rap mixed with heavy metal!! I could smell a rat, right there and then. A dance element... everyone knows it will never catch up. But anyway, whatever. I’m not gonna bullshit you (-I never could anyway!) Fair do kiddo: you want out? you're out then. This... is the only option. Good luck with what your future plans. End of an era, I s'ppose. We'll just... carry on somehow and see what happens next. You've got balls, girl. You already saved the band once, don’t image I have forgotten. You're saving our bacon again. ... Do you really think it’s gonna work?"
Adrienne: "’Course it will. These guys are a hundred times more into it than I am at this stage. Nada means everything to them, everything; I know it, you know it. If you ask me, this solution is way more honest, it’s better than me going through the motions and pretending, is it not? Besides, I was thinking. My departure doesn't necessarily mean I will stop writing, I still have quite a few lyrics on the back-burner, the guys can arrange them any way they see fit, or they can simply ask my replacements to provide theirs, they're bound to have tons of their own lying under their mattresses! I'll bet you anything it's Angst Royale at Berkshire Central 24/7! Of course it will pan out Melv’ -it's got to. Look at it this way, Nada has simply become a collective."
Melvin: "You've got it all sussed out, haven't you? How could I even doubt it! Ah what a star you make in your –ahem- peculiar way... OK. OK. Respect Addy, and now I think maybe you should go, don't you think? Just slip out of here. Don’t let them see you. You don't want to upset our divas in their dressing room, they're probably fighting over who gets the last can of Coke! I'll tell them you couldn't make it tonight –last minute thing, whatever- but I’ll have it sorted like you said. They'll follow your plan. ‘Course they will. They'll accept anything you put to them, ' bunch of losers (let’s face it),  we were going nowhere slow before you” (exchange complicit laughs) “Let's hope they'll go places after you, then."

The gig gets underway. The new recruits give it their best to great effect. 

The record scouts are not aware of the change in personnel; in fact, one of them comments on his dictaphone: "the chasm between the intensely personal nature of the subjective, I-driven lyrics and the spectacle of this near endless succession of performers on stage is thought-provoking, if not elation inducing."

End of the gig: stunned silence, then cheer from a record company head-hunter, soon imitated by his colleagues / rivals, vying for attention from the band.

Hiding backstage, a laughing Adrienne watches the record company scouts outbid each other as they try to secure the signature of the (astounded) multiple performers.

As she exits the venue incognito to get on with her life, she spots the boy she talked to when handing out flyers, and who has been following the band ever since. He is leaving, looking disappointed, lost in thoughts. She comes up to him and with a sly smile asks him: "So... did you like it? "
He looks at her, amazed.

The End. Blast of New Order “All The Way” “It takes years to find the nerve / To be apart from what you've done / To find the truth inside yourself / And not depend on anyone.”  (The terminally uplifting “Bizarre Love Triangle” could also work.)

The closing credits could show what happens next to the protagonists (the various musicians, new singers, Melvin, Amanda) finishing with Adrienne who just winks and puts a finger to her lips, refusing to say (possible sequel?). All happy endings, obviously.

Comments.

This was first written in "My So Called Life" days, with Winona Ryder in mind ("Heathers", see). 

Musically, I could see Cranes and Dubstar (or the Yeah Yeah Yeahs: later postscript) writing appropriately miserable or pop songs; or Morrissey penning self-parodies; or classic tracks from that era: Smiths, Joy Division, Cure, Cocteau Twins. Disco: Ofra Haza's famous song; Pet Shop Boys "Heartbeat"; Madonna "Into The Groove". 

Camera shots could become less general (i.e. less panoramic when establishing the setting) to become more focussed on the protagonist as the film progresses. More close-ups of Adrienne as she gradually "finds" herself, and better framing in the centre of the screen as opposed to early arty-looking angles conveying her originally confused state of mind (at the beginning of her story). The last image could even consist of a close-up of Adrienne’s smiling face. The name Adrienne (originally Valentine, after Irene Jacob’s character in “Three Colours Red”) a tribute to Adrienne Shelly.

Appeal. Surely, it is time for an 80s revival any time now (please note that this last sentence was written around 1994!): all these endearing spectacular, colourful haircuts, clothes and so on, easy to laugh at and fun to recreate. The eighties were a wonderfully imaginative decade; only complete morons will say otherwise. Stressing the camp element: recreating some of the looks sported by Gothic Batcave punks, Flock of Seagulls, Sigue Sigue Sputnik, Spandau Ballet, yuppies with enormous mobile phones, and so on. Marketing idea: release T-shirts and merchandising bearing the logo "Nada 99". Fantasy soundtrack re-creating that period, with possible new (parody) songs by Dubstar and Cranes.
This story deals with some eternal "teen" issues, about forging oneself an identity, existential angst, the pressures to conform to Society, peer pressure, the search for group identity and so on. This genre of sentimental comedy always works as it appeals to the kind of (young) audience aggressively targetted by the record / film studios.

Texts. Easily recognisable parodies of Siouxsie, the Smiths, Placebo, Sinead O'Connor... 

Setting. Reading or an unnamed, generic, uninspiring small town similar to the one in Hartley's "Trust" / "The Unbelievable Truth".
Casting. For the dad: David Yow out of The Jesus Lizard, Harvey Keitel, Peter Hook; Avril Lavigne?; Melvin: think the great Matt Dillon playing a lovable rogue at his sleaziest in a "Singles" meets "Smthg About Mary” way.

The DVD could offer, as extras, the various versions of the band’s song sung in successive styles (punk, ska, etc.).

"Bim": drummer - "Buzz": guitarist - "Gazz": bassist