Eddie Campbell

An artist plots his way through pictorial space by putting one thing partially behind another. But what if there's no 'nother thing to put a thing behind? Or any receding straight lines with which to lead the eye through a readable perspective? This page of Alan Moore's From Hell script caused a murmur around my studio when we first read it. It required a 3-dimensional hole in the middle of the air some distance away, in the sky high over the sea, with blood issuing from it both toward and away from 'us'. I had the help of the upper and lower panels in establishing an exaggerated dramatic depth of field as well as locating 'up' and 'down'. To an extent you can depend on the white sky at the top of the second tier being read as continuation of the white sky in the first, even though we have now apparently moved some distance upwards, and the three horizons in the second tier being more or less continuous even though the altitude introduces curvature. Pictorial space on a multi-panelled page embraces simultaneous contradictions.


FROM HELL CHAPTER 14. PAGE 6. (673 words)
PANEL 1
NOW A FIVE PANEL PAGE. THERE IS ONE BIG PANEL ON THE TOP TIER, THREE SMALLER PANELS ON THE MIDDLE TIER AND THEN ONE BIG PANEL ON THE BOTTTOM TIER. IN THIS FIRST PANEL WE ARE LOOKING UPWARDS INTO THE BLINDING LIGHT OF THE BRIGHT MEDITERRANEAN SUN THAT HANGS ABOVE US IN A CLEAR SKY, WITH NO MORE THAN A FEW RAGGED AND RAPIDLY EVAPORATING WISPS OF CLOUD AROUND THE EDGES. THE LIGHT IS BLINDING. FLAPPING IN THE FOREGROUND AND BEYOND WE SEE A NUMBER OF SEA-GULLS, REMINISCENT OF THE DUCKS WE SAW ERUPTING IN A FLAPPING CLOUD IN THE LAST PANEL OF PAGE THREE IN CHAPTER TWO. HERE, HOWEVER, WE CAN NO LONGER SEE ANY SIGN OF THE BARGE, OR OF THE YOUNG WILLIAM GULL. WE ARE HIGH IN THE HOT SKY ABOVE THE AEGEAN SEA. IT IS 1888. THE GULLS FLAP AND WHEEL AGAINST THE BLINDING DISC OF THE SUN, UP ABOVE US.
CAPTION: Light. Ecstasy. the sun.
CAPTION: Where am I now?

PANEL 2.
IN THIS FIRST SMALL PANEL ON THE SECOND TIER IT IS AS IF WE HAVE SHIFTED OUR GAZE AWAY FROM THE SUN TO LOOK DOWN BENEATH US. FAR BELOW, WE CAN SEE THE GLITTERING AEGEAN, WITH ONLY GULLS AND A FEW WISPS OF CLOUD BETWEEN US AND THE SHINING WATERS FAR BELOW. UP TO ONE CORNER WE CAN MAYBE SEE PART OF THE COASTLINE OF ONE OF THE ISLANDS ENTERING THE PANEL, WITH A LINE OF SURF BOILING AND RIPPLING AROUND IT. FAR BELOW US, WE CAN SEE A COUPLE OF SMALL GREEK FISHING BOATS MAKING THEIR WAY ACROSS THE STILL AND SHIMMERING WAYTERS, LEAVING V-SHAPED WAKES BEHIND.
CAPTION: A knowledge comes to me that I am high above the glittering Aegean, and it is no longer 1896.
CAPTION: It is instead the year of my achievement. It is 1888.

PANEL 3
SAME SHOT AS LAST PANEL, LOOKING DOWN ON THE AEGEAN WITH THE FISHING BOATS MOVED ON ONLY A LITTLE SINCE OUR LAST IMAGE, AND THE GULLS LIKEWISE WHIRLING INTO NEW POSITIONS. UP IN THE FOREGROUND, HANGING IN EMPTY SPACE IN FRONT OF US, SOMETHING QUITE SMALL IS STARTING TO ERUPT OUT OF EMPTY AIR, AS IF FROM A POINT. IT'S SORT OF LIKE A SMALL AND SYMMETRICAL SQUIRTING OR SPLATTERING OF A DARK AND VISCOUS LIQUID, JUST ERUPTING FROM A POINT OUT OF NOWHERE, THE THICK LIQUID GOBBETS ALMOST LIKE THE RADIATING PETALS OF A TERRIBLE FLOWER.
CAPTION: I hover on the brink of form, incohate and ethereal, filled with a fierce, exultant joy I must make manifest.
CAPTION: I concentrate my being to a single, bloody point.

PANEL 4.
SAME SHOT, WITH THE BOATS BELOW AND THE GULLS MOVED ON ONLY A LITTLE. UP IN THE FOREGROUND, THE SPLATTERING POINT OF BLOOD HAS NOW GROWN MUCH BIGGER, BLOSSOMING INTO A HUGE AND EXTRAORDINARILY LIQUID ALIEN FLOWER OF MOVING, FLOWING BLOOD. WEIRDLY BEAUTIFUL AND SYMMETRICAL, LIKE A THREE DIMENSIONAL RORSCHACH BLOT, IT HANGS SUSPENDED IN THE SKY ABOVE THE AEGEAN, A VISIONARY MIRACLE HANGING THERE IN DEFIANCE OF GRAVITY AND PHYSICS. ITS SHAPE , THOUGH SYMMETRICAL, IS MONSTROUS AND IRREGULAR, GOBBETS AND BEADS OF THE THICK AND GLEAMING PLASMA HANG SUSPENDED IN THIN AIR ABOUT THE EDGES OF THE CENTRAL BLOSSOMING FORM, WHICH IS BOTH GORGEOUS AND APPALLING.
CAPTION: In rapture I explode, a scarlet cloudburst.
CAPTION: Fluids from Buck's row and Mitre square and Miller's Court, rich and sublime they flower against the blue Aegean sky.

PANEL 5.
NOW, IN THIS FINAL WIDE PANEL, WE ARE DOWN ON THE DECK OF ONE OF THE NINETEENTH-CENTURY GREEK FISHING BOATS BELOW. IT'S RAINING BLOOD. THE SAILORS GAPE UP AT IT IN FEAR AND ALARM; IN STARK BEWILDERMENT. THE HEAVY CRIMSON DOWNPOUR SPATTERS OFF THE DECK AND TRICKLES DOWN THE ARMS AND FACES OF THE HORROR-STRICKEN SAILORS. IT STAINS THEIR SHIRTS AND RUNS INTO THEIR FRIGHTENED STARING EYES. IT PUDDLES THERE IN THE UNEVEN TIMBERS OF THE DECK.
CAPTION: A pelting thunderhead of murder, here I sign my year of panics with appalling miracle.

Labels: composition, From hell scripts-2

Concluding the sequence of the first murder in Alan Moore's gargantuan script for FROM HELL. Polly Nichols now lies dead on the cobbles. Alan had the idea that for the next couple of pages she should occupy the same spot exactly in each panel while people come and go around her corpse. To this end I started the series of repeated panels on the previous page, and altogether there are 28 of them. In retrospect I think this is a cinematic concept that works much better in the movie itself. And after seeing it there, I have difficulty accepting it as a success here. Tip of the hat to the Hughes Brothers. On film the effect is amplified with the characters buzzing around the corpse like bees in some speeded up sequence of a David Attenborough nature documentary, and all the dialogue is dispensed with.

FROM HELL. CHAPTER 5. PAGE 34. ( 666 WORDS) (!?)
PANEL 1
NOW A SEVEN PANEL PAGE, WITH ONE WIDE HORIZONTAL PANEL ON THE TOP TIER AND THEN THREE PANELS ON EACH OF THE TIERS BENEATH THAT. IN THE FIRST WIDE PANEL ALL WE HAVE IS A STILL LIFE SHOT OF POLLY NICHOLS’ BODY AS IT LIES THERE MOTIONLESS UPON THE COBBLES IN THE DARK, THE BONNET BY ITS RIGHT SIDE. I GUESS WHAT THIS PANEL IS SUPPOSED TO BE SAYING IS "SOME TIME PASSES AND POLLY IS STILL DEAD." THIS WIDE PANEL PROBABLY AFFORDS YOU YOUR BEST CHANCE TO DO A STUDY OF THE MURDERED WOMAN’S BODY IN REPOSE, SO MAKE WHAT YOU CAN OF IT.
No dialogue

PANEL 2
A SIMILAR SHOT HERE TO THE LAST PANEL ON PAGE THIRTY-THREE. POLLY’S BODY LIES IN THE FORGROUND, AND LOOKING PAST IT WE ARE LOOKING UP THE LENGTH OF BUCK’S ROW TO WHERE IT JOINS BRADY STREET. A SOLITARY FIGURE HAS JUST ENTERED THE STREET AND IS AND IS COMING LIESURELY DOWN IT TOWARDS US. ALTHOUGH WE ARE TOO FAR AWAY TO MAKE HIM OUT AS MORE THAN A DARK SHAPE HERE, THE MAN IS IN FACT CHARLES A. CROSS, A CARMAN EMPLOYED BY PICKFORD AND CO. THE TIME IS NOW 3.45.AM. ON THE MORNING OF THE THIRTY-FIRST OF AUGUST. RELIABLE HISTORY STARTS HERE.
No dialogue.

PANEL 3
SAME SHOT, ONLY NOW CROSS HAS WALKED CLOSER TOWARDS THE FOREGROUND AND HAS DRAWN LEVEL WITH THE BODY. HE STOPS AND LOOKS DOWN AT THE DEAD WOMAN DOUBTFULLY. IT IS TOO DARK TO SEE THAT HER THROAT HAS BEEN CUT, OR THAT THERE ARE TERRIBLE WOUNDS IN HER BELLY.
No dialogue

PANEL 4
SAME SHOT. HERE, ANOTHER DARK FIGURE HAS ENTERED BUCK’S ROW FROM THE TOP ENTRANCE, THERE IN THE BACKGROUND. CROSS, IN THE FOREGROUND, LOOKS ROUND AND NOTICES THIS NEWCOMER AS HE STANDS THERE NEAR THE BODY. RAISING HIS HAND HE CALLS OUT TO THE MAN AS HE ENTERS THE STREET. THE NEW MAN UPON THE SCENE IS ROBERT PAUL, ANOTHER CARMAN, POSSIBLY EMPLOYED BY THE SAME COMPANY. CROSS CALLS OUT TO HIM, EAGER TO ENLIST A SECOND OPINION CONCERNING THE INERT WOMAN LYING AT HIS FEET.
CROSS: OY!
CROSS: OY THERE!

PANEL 5
SAME SHOT. PAUL HAS APPROACHED A LITTLE CLOSER TO US. BUT HE STILL HANGS BACK WARILY, UNCERTAIN AS TO WHETHER CROSS MEANS TO HARM HIM. CROSS HOLDS OUT ONE PALM TO CALM THE OTHER MAN AND INDICATES THE MOTIONLESS WOMAN LYING AT HIS FEET, WHO DOES NOT MOVE THROUGHOUT THE ENTIRE EXCHANGE.
PAUL: Wha... what are you after?
CROSS: Oh, I’m not about to ‘urt yer.
CROSS: Come an’ look ‘ere. There’s a woman. She might be drunk, but...

PANEL 6
NOW BOTH MEN ARE KNEELING BY THE BODY. CROSS, KNEELING NEAR THE TOP HALF, IS HOLDING UP ONE OF POLLY’S LIMP, DEAD HANDS. PAUL, LOWER DOWN IS SMOOTHING DOWN POLLY’S LIFTED SKIRTS FOR THE SAKE OF DECORUM. HIS OTHER HAND HE PLACES BENEATH POLLY’S BREAST. THE SCENE IS VERY DARK. THERE IS ALMOST NO LIGHT AT ALL.
CROSS: "Er ‘and’s cold. Why, I believe she’s dead...
PAUL: NO... ‘er face was warm.
PAUL: I think she’s breathin’, but it’s very little if she is. Let’s sit ‘er up...

PANEL 7
SAME SHOT. BOTH MEN HAVE RISEN TO THEIR FEET ONCE MORE AND ARE ABOUT TO DEPART OFF THE RIGHT HAND SIDE OF THE PANEL. CROSS WAVES ONE HAND DISMISSIVELY TO INDICATE THAT HE WANTS NO MORE TO DO WITH THE WOMAN, WHETHER SHE BE DRUNK OR DEAD. HE LOOKS DOWN AT THE BODY WITH DISGUST. PAUL, ON THE OTHER HAND, INDICATES SOME POINT OFF PANEL DOWN THE ROAD WHERE HE HOPES THEY WILL FIND A POLICEMAN. HE LOOKS TOWARDS CROSS FOR APPROVAL. AT THEIR FEET, POLLY LIES MOTIONLESS, COOLING SLOWLY IN THE NIGHT AIR.
CROSS: I’m not goin’ to touch ‘er. Anyway, I’m late enough for work already...
PAUL: Aa. I am too. We’ll try and find a copper down the road, shall we?

Labels: From hell scripts-2

W e encountered a minor logistical problem on this page of FROM HELL in that upon a thorough examination of whatever maps I had assembled, it was necessary for Gull and Netley to exit into the foreground rather than the backgound, as Alan pictured in the script.

FROM HELL. CHAPTER 5. PAGE 33. (words 1,158)
PANEL 1.
NOW ANOTHER NINE PANEL PAGE. IN THIS FIRST ONE WE ARE STILL LOOKING THROUGH GULL’S EYES, BUT HE SEEMS TO HAVE STRAIGHTENED UP SLIGHTLY, BECAUSE OUR VIEW IS DIFFERENT. THE BUTCHERED WOMAN IS STILL PROMINENT, DOWN TOWARDS THE BOTTOM OF THE FOREGROUND, BUT LOOKING PAST HER WE CAN NOW SEE NETLEY SOME FEW FEET AWAY. PERHAPS NETLEY HAS PUT THE LANTERN DOWN AND IS HERE SEEN REPLACING THE LISTON KNIFE IN THE AMPUTATION CASE, ABOUT TO PUT IT BACK INTO THE GLADSTONE BAG. HE GLANCES ACROSS AT US HERE AS GULL SPEAKS. IN THE FOREGROUND, GULL HAS RAISED HIS CUPPED HANDS FROM WITHIN POLLY’S STOMACH WOUND. CUPPED IN THEM IS A SHIFTING POOL OF BEAUTIFUL AND LUMINOUS WHITE MIST THAT ILLUMINES EVERYTHING ABOUT IT. PHOSPHORESCENT DROPLETS OF LIGHT FALL SOFTLY FROM BETWEEN GULL’S FINGERS, DRIPPING GORGEOUSLY BACK INTO THE MOTHER POOL OF RADIANCE STILL VISIBLE IN POLLY’S OPEN STOMACH. WE LOOK DOWN INTO THE LIGHT CUPPED IN GULL’S HANDS HERE, AND SHARE HIS ALMOST DIVINE ELATION. THIS IS SO UNEXPECTED AND BEAUTIFUL.
GULL (OFF): Oh.
GULL (OFF): Oh, look at it! It’s..
GULL (OFF): What is it? I’ve never seen anything quite like...

PANEL 2.
SAME SHOT. IN THE BACKGROUND, NETLEY IS DROPPING THE NOW CLOSED AMPUTATION CASE INTO THE GLADSTONE. AS HE DOES SO HE GAZES ACROSS AT US RATHER THAN AT WHAT HE IS DOING. IN THE FOREGROUND, GULL HOLDS OUT HIS CUPPED HANDS TO NETLEY, AS SEEN THROUGH GULL’S EYES. CUPPED IN THE HAND IS THE HOLY LIQUID LIGHT OF POLLY’S SOUL. FALLING IN SLOW AND TWISTING RIVULETS BACK TO THE POOL OF LIGHT THAT’S HELD IN POLLY’S STOMACH. THE LIGHT FROM GULL’S CUPPED HANDS EVEN LIGHTS UP NETLEY’S FACE IN THE BACKGROUND, LIGHTING IT FROM BENEATH. NETLEY’S EXPRESSION IS WIDE EYES AND OPEN MOUTHED. FROM THE LIGHTING, THE NATURE OF HIS EXPRESSION IS AMBIGUOUS. IT MIGHT BE RELIGIOUS AWE.
GULL (OFF): Look at it, Netley.
GULL (OFF): Can you SEE?

PANEL 3.
NOW WE REVERSE ANGLE SO THAT WE ARE LOOKING THROUGH NETLEY’S EYES TOWARDS GULL. GULL KNEELS BY THE BODY, ALMOST IN AN ATTITUDE OF PRAYER. HE HOLDS OUT HIS CUPPED HANDS TOWARDS US. THEY ARE FULL OF INTESTINES, THE SNAKE-LIKE ROPES TRAILING BACKWARDS TO THE OPENED WOUND IN POLLY NICHOLS’ STOMACH. THE BLOOD IS THICK UPON GULL’S FINGERS. AS HE LOOKS UP AT US ACROSS THE ENTRAILS HE HAS A WONDERING AND CHILDLIKE SMILE THAT IS GENUINELY TOUCHING. HIS EYES ARE BRIMMING WITH TEARS OF JOY AND HUMILITY.
GULL: Can you SEE it, Netley?

PANEL 4.
CHANGE ANGLE, PERHAPS WE ARE LOOKING UP SLIGHTLY, FROM PAVEMENT LEVEL AT GULL AS HE CROUCHES ABOVE THE BODY, TEARS STARTING TO ROLL ACROSS HIS CHEEKS AS HE STARES AT THE BODY IN CHILDLIKE WONDER. HE LETS HIS HANDS SINK BACK TO THE STOMACH WOUND, REPLACING THE HANDFUL OF GUTS WITH A GENTLE AND LOVING SMILE. HE IS CLEARLY MOVED BEYOND WORDS. LOOKING UP PAST HIM WE SEE NETLEY AS HE WALKS CLOSER TO US, CARRYING BOTH THE CLOSED GLADSTONE BAG AND THE LANTERN. HE LOOKS DOWN AT GULL WITH A GRIMACE OF UNCOMPREHENDING HORROR, BUT TRIES TO SPEAK AS CALMLY AND LEVELLY AS HE CAN. HE’S GOT TO GET THIS FUCKING LUNATIC AWAY FROM HERE BEFORE THE POLICE ARRIVE. THE PAIR OF THEM GOT TO BUCK’S ROW AT JUST AFTER THREE THIRTY, MISSING THE NIGHT WATCHMAN BY TWO OR THREE MINUTES. THEIR WORK THUS FAR HAS TAKEN ABOUT TEN OR TWELVE LONG MINUTES, AND NETLEY IS CLEARLY ANXIOUS TO BE OUT OF THERE. GULL STARES AT THE BODY, STILL ENGROSSED, AS HE REPLACES POLLY’S CUTS. HE HAS A SMALL FLECK OF BLOOD UPON HIS FOREHEAD THAT HE DOES NOT APPEAR TO HAVE NOTICED.
NETLEY: Uh..
NETLEY: Uh, yes, sir. Yes, I reckon I can.
NETLEY: Look, we ought to be goin’, sir...

PANEL 5.
PERHAPS WE ARE LOOKING DOWN FROM A POINT JUST ABOVE NETLEY, LOOKING DOWN PAST HIM AT GULL AS HE HELPS THE OLD DOCTOR TO HIS FEET. GULL SLOWLY AND RELUCTANTLY STANDS UP FROM HIS POSITION NEAR THE BODY. LOOKING LIKE ONE WAKING FROM A DREAM. HE STILL KEEPS LOOKING BACK AT THE BODY EVEN AS HE RELUCTANTLY STANDS UP, LEAVING IT BEHIND. NETLEY, IF WE CAN SEE HIS FACE, IS STARING AT GULL WITH A VERY WORRIED EXPRESSION. PERHAPS GULL PLACES ONE BLOODIED HAND UPON NETLEY’S SHOULDER TO SUPPORT HIMSELF AS HE PULLS HIMSELF UP FROM HIS KNEELING POSITION. SEE WHAT LOOKS NATURAL TO YOU AND DO ACCORDINGLY.
GULL: Yes.
GULL: Yes, of course. You’re right. Ought to be going. Yes.
GULL: Yes, but..

PANEL 6.
HERE, WE ARE DOWN AT PAVEMENT LEVEL. POLLY’S BODY LIES IN THE FOREGROUND, THE BLACK BONNET STILL RESTING UNTOUCHED BY HER RIGHT SIDE. LOOKING UP BEYOND HER WE CAN SEE GULL AND NETLEY AS THE LATTER GENTLY LEADS THE FORMER AWAY UP THE STREET. BACK TOWARDS BRADY STREET AND THE WHITECHAPEL ROAD BEYOND. AS GULL ALLOWS NETLEY TO LEAD HIM ALONG HE HAS HIS HEAD TURNED TO LOOK TOWARDS THE YOUNG COACHMAN AS HE SPEAKS. THEY BOTH WALK AWAY FROM US, LEAVING THE BODY BEHIND THEM, STILL AND DEAD.
GULL: Light, Netley.
GULL: Did you SEE?

PANEL 7.
CHANGE ANGLE. GULL IS HEAD AND SHOULDERS IN THE FOREGROUND OVER TO THE RIGHT OF THE PANEL. HE IS TURNING HIS HEAD BACK AWAY FROM US TO LOOK BACK TOWARDS THE BODY AS HE AND NETLEY LEAVE BUCKS ROW. WE CAN SEE A LITTLE OF HIS FACE, TURNED AWAY FROM US IN PERHAPS A QUARTER PROFILE AS HE LOOKS BACK TOWARDS THE CORPSE IN THE BACKGROUND. POLLY LIES ON HER BACK. LIGHT IS BRIMMING FROM HER STOMACH AND RUNNING DOWN HER SIDES TO POOL ABOUT HER IN A RADIANT PUDDLE. FROM WHAT LITTLE OF GULL’S EXPRESSION WE CAN SEE HE LOOKS HUMBLE AND AWE-STRUCK AS HE CASTS A LAST GLANCE BACK TOWARDS THE BODY.
GULL: She was full of light.

PANEL 8.
NOW WE HAVE CHANGED ANGLE SO THAT THE BLOODIED BODY IS NOW MOTIONLESS, SPRAWLED IN THE FOREGROUND. THERE ARE NO LIGHTS. IN THE DARKNESS, WE CAN’T EVEN SEE A LOT OF BLOOD. LOOKING PAST THE BODY WE SEE GULL AND NETLEY, HEADING AWAY FROM US RIGHT AT THE TOP OF BUCKS ROW. WHERE IT JOINS BRADY STREET. THEY ARE ABOUT TO TURN THE CORNER AND WALK OUT OF SIGHT, AND WE CAN REALLY ONLY MAKE OUT THEIR DISTANT FIGURES HERE BY THE WEAK GLOW OF NETLEY’S LANTERN. THE MAIN FOCUS OF THIS PANEL IS POLLY’S STILL, DEAD BODY, AN INCREASINGLY SHADOWY MASS IN THE FOREGROUND, THE BONNET LYING TO ITS RIGHT.
No Dialogue

PANEL 9.
THIS FINAL PANEL IS EXACTLY THE SAME SHOT AS LAST PANEL, ONLY HERE, GULL AND NETLEY ARE NO LONGER VISIBLE, HAVING TURNED THE CORNER INTO BRADY STREET AND TAKEN THEIR LANTERN WITH THEM. IN THE FOREGROUND, POLLY’S BODY LIES ALONE IN THE DARK, A BARELY DISTINCT SHAPE AS SHE SPRAWLS UPON THE COLD COBBLES.
No Dialogue

Labels: From hell scripts-2

B elieve it or not, there are two versions of the opening two panels of this FROM HELL page, and I still can't decide for sure which is correct. Sometimes you question a drawing once and you are never capable of having a clear thought about it again. 'left to Right". Gull's left hand, Polly's left, or the viewer's? I scanned the top two panels from the Old Kitchen Sink press edition. I changed it later for my own edition, but looking at it again... AAARRGGG.
A couple of other things are different from the script. Alan asks for eight panels and I made it nine; he also asks for an intercut of an earlier image from chapter two of the boy Gull holding the dead rat in his hand and dissecting it with his pocket knife, but I felt that offering an escape from the oppressing horror of the moment, whether as a flashback or into the mind of the murderer, might weaken the scene.

FROM HELL. CHAPTER FIVE. PAGE 32. ( 1318 words)
PANEL 1.
NOW AN EIGHT PANEL PAGE. THERE ARE THREE PANELS ON EACH OF THE TWO BOTTOM MOST TIERS, AND TWO PANELS ON THE TOP TIER. THE FIRST PANEL ON THE TOP TIER IS A SINGLE WIDTH PANEL, THE SECOND A DOUBLE WIDTH PANEL. IN THIS FIRST PANEL, GULL CROUCHES BY THE BODY WITH THE LISTON KNIFE NOW IN HIS RIGHT HAND. THE HAND IS CROSSED OVER HIS CHEST AS HE RAISES IT, SO THAT THE BLADE IS HELD OVER HIS LEFT SHOULDER IN PREPARATION FOR THE DOWNWARD ARC. WITH HIS FREE HAND HE GESTURES CASUALLY AND DEMONSTRATIVELY TOWARDS THE HAND IN WHICH HE HOLDS THE KNIFE, LIKE A SALESMAN GIVING A FREE DEOMONSTRATION. PERHAPS HE EVEN GLANCES UP TOWARDS NETLEY TO SEE IF THE COACHMAN IS PAYING ATTENTION. GULL IS ENTIRELY CALM AND RELAXED. STANDING JUST BEHIND HIM, NETLEY HOLDS THE TREMBLING LANTERN AND LOOKS ON, APPALLED YET UNABLE TO LOOK AWAY, MESMERIZED BY THE GENTLE AND REASSURING CADENCE OF GULL’S VOICE. THE MOST IMPORTANT OBJECT TO FOCUS ON IN THIS PANEL IS THE HAND IN WHICH GULL HOLDS THE LISTON KNIFE, POISED UP ABOVE HIS LEFT SHOULDER AND READY TO FALL.
GULL: Thank you. Now, watch me closely:
GULL: Left...

PANEL 2.
NOW THE DOUBLE SIZED PANEL, TAKEN FROM THE SAME ANGLE AS OUR LAST SHOT. BUT BIGGER. GULL SEEMS TO HAVE HARDLY MOVED A MUSCLE, AND YET NOW HIS RIGHT HAND IS RAISED BY HIS RIGHT SIDE, FLUNG OUT FROM HIS BODY, AND IS NO LONGER ACROSS HIS CHEST. THIS IS THE ONLY THING THAT HAS MOVED. OTHERWISE, GULL IS COMPLETLEY STILL. THERE IS NOT AN OUNCE OF WASTED EFFORT OR MOVEMENT. THE CUT HAS ALSO BEEN MADE WITH TREMENDOUS SPEED AND CERTAINTY. IN THE FOREGROUND, POLLY’S SHOUDLERS HAVE LIFTED OFF THE FLOOR WITH THE TREMENDOUS FORCE OF THE BLOW. HER HEAD DANGLES BACK HORRIBLY FROM HER NECK, AND WE CAN SEE THAT IT IS ALMOST SEVERED. THE BLADE HAS ALMOST CUT COMPLETELY THROUGH POLLY’S SPINE, ALL IN ONE TERRIBLE MOTION, TOO SWIFT TO SEE. GULL’S EXPRESSION IS STILL COMPLETELY CALM. IN THIS IMMEDIATE BACKGROUND, NETLEY TAKES AN INVOLUNTARY STEP BACKWARDS AND RAISES HIS FREE HAND TO HIS MOUTH, HIS OTHER HAND STILL HOLDING THE LATERN. HIS EYES ARE WIDE WITH SHOCK AS HE WITNESSES THE NEAR-DECAPITATION. THE MIAN THING TO CONVEY HERE IS THE HIDEOUS FORCE COILED IN GULL; THE TERRIBLE SENSE OF DEVASTATION WITHOUT EFFORT.
GULL: ..to right.

POLLY LIES TOWARDS THE FOREGROUND HERE, WITH HER HEAD POINTING AWAY FROM US, LOLLING HORRIBLY TO ONE SIDE. GULL, STILL CROUCHING, IS DOWN BY HER FEET TOWARDS THE FOREGROUND. STILL HOLDING THE BLOODIED LISTON KNIFE IN ONE HAND, WITH THE OTHER HE IS IRRITABLY RAISING POLLY’S SKIRTS UP AROUND HER WAIST. THERE ARE ABOUT THREE OF THEM IN ALL, INCLUDING THE TWO UNDERSKIRTS. SHE WEARS NO OTHER UNDERWEAR, AND ABOVE THE TOP OF THE DIRTY, BLACK-WOOL STOCKINGS THERE IS NOTHING BUT THE DEAD WHITE FLESH AND SAD GREY FUR OF THE PUDENDA, PATHETICALLY EXPOSED. GULL MUTTERS IRRITABLY TO HIMSELF AS HE LIFTS THE SKIRTS UP OUT OF THE WAY, EXPOSING THE DEAD WOMAN’S BELLY. STANDING IN THE IMMEDIATE BACKGROUND WE SEE NETLEY, STILL HOLDING THE LANTERN. HE TURNS HIS FACE AWAY, UNABLE TO WATCH AND HORRIBLY SHAKEN BY THE NEAR-BEHEADING HE HAS JUST WITNESSED. WILL THIS PARADE OF HORRORS NEVER CEASE?
NETLEY: Oh God..
GULL: Now for the rest. Ah, these confounded under-skirts! How many is she wearing?
GULL: Ah. Ah, there we are...

PANEL 4.
NOW WE ARE LOOKING THROUGH GULL’S EYES AS HE CROUCHES BY THE BODY. IT LIES THERE BENEATH US WITH THE SKIRTS RUCKED UP AROUND THE WAIST, THE WHITE BELLY-FLESH REVEALED. ALL WE CAN SEE OF GULL HERE ARE HIS HANDS, THE RIGHT ONE HOLDING THE LISTON KNIFE. HE IS PUSHING THE POINT OF THE LONG BLADE INTO THE FLESH DOWN TO THE RIGHT OF THE PELVIC AREA, NEAR WHERE THE DIAPHRAGM IS IF I HAVE MY ANATOMY RIGHT. FROM HERE THE BLADE WILL TRAVEL ACROSS THE ABDOMEN, MOVING UPWARDS IN A ROUGH DIAGONAL UNTIL IT COMES TO REST TWO OR THREE INCHES FROM THE LEFT HAND SIDE. THE POINT OF THE BLADE HAS ALREADY BEEN PUSHED ABOUT TWO INCHES INTO POLLY’S FLESH HERE, AND THERE IS NO DOUBT FROM THE ANGLE OF IT BUT THAT IT WILL GO DEEPER. HOWEVER, THE CUT IS ONLY JUST BEGUN. WE JUST SUGGEST VISUALLY THE APPROXIMATE LINE IT WILL TAKE FROM THE ANGLE AT WHICH GULL IS HOLDING THE BLADE. WE ARE UTTERLY ABSORBED IN THE MUTILATION HERE, AND NETLEY NEED NOT BE VISIBLE: JUST POLLY’S BELLY AND GULL’S HANDS.
No Dialogue.

PANEL 5.
NOW, THIS NEXT PANEL I’M INTO TWO MINDS ABOUT. WE HAVE TO GET OVER A NUMBER OF MUTILATIONS IN ABOUT THREE PANELS HERE. SINCE WE CANNOT SHOW HIM MAKING EVERY STROKE, I FIGURED WE HAVE TO CONDENSE IT SOMEHOW. NOW, WHAT I WANT TO DO IN THIS PANEL IS TO SIMPLY REPRODUCE THE PANEL FROM CHAPTER TWO WHERE WE SEE THE RAT BEING DISSECTED THROUGH THE EYES OF YOUNG WILLIAM GULL, THE BLADE MOVING UP ACROSS ITS DEAD BELLY, SLITTING IT OPEN. I THINK THAT WOULD WORK OKAY DRAMATICALLY AND WOULD GIVE A SENSE OF THE PURELY CLINICAL AND DETACHED MEDICAL MIND AT WORK HERE. THE ONLY THING IS THAT I HAVE A SLGIHT FEELING THAT IT MIGHT LOOK AS IF WE’RE BEING SQUEAMISH, OR BEING ARTSY TO AVOID OUR PROCLAIMED INTENTION OF PRESENTING THE MURDERS HONESTLY AND REALISTICALLY. ANYWAY, SEE WHAT THE BEST WAY TO HANDLE IT IS, ALL THINGS CONSIDERED, BUT IF YOU CAN THINK OF A BETTER WAY THEN PLEASE GO AHEAD. IF WE GO WITH THE RAT IDEA THEN ALL WE SEE HERE IS AN EXACT REPRODUCTION OF CHAPTER TWO, PAGE SIX, PANEL THREE, WITH THE BLADE MOVING ACROSS THE RAT’S STOMACH.
No Dialogue.

PAGE 32.
PANEL 6.
NOW BACK TO REALITY, FOR A SHOT ALMOST EXACTLY THE SAME IN COMPOSITION AS PANEL FOUR. WE LOOK DWON THROUGH GULL’S EYES AT POLLY’S ABDOMEN. THERE IS THE ROUGH AND JAGGED DIAGONAL CUT RUNNING FROM ABOUT THREE INCHES FROM THE LEFT OF POLLY’S STOMACH DOWN TO HER DIAPHRAGM. THERE ARE THREE OR FOUR CUTS RUNNING VERTICALLY DOWNWARDS ON THE RIGHT HAND SIDE, AND THERE ARE SEVERAL INCISIONS RUNNING HORIZONTALLY ACROSS THE ABDOMEN. IN ADDITION TO THAT, THERE ARE TWO CUTS AROUND THE VAGINAL AREA. ALL OF THESE CUTS ARE VERY DEEP, AND ARE SEEPING PROFUSELY WITH BLOOD. ALL IN ALL, GULL HAS MADE A REAL FUCKING MESS OF HER. AS WE SEE HIS BLOOD STAINED HANDS HERE HE IS JUST STARTING TO WITHDRAW THE DRIPPING LISTON KNIFE, HIS WORK FINISHED ACCORDING TO HIS SATISFACTION.
GULL (OFF) : There.

PANEL 7.
STILL LOOKING DOWN THROUGH GULL’S EYES AT POLLY’S ABDOMEN, BUT HERE HE HAS PUT THE LISTON KNIFE DOWN SOMEHWERE OFF PANEL, PERHAPS RETURNING IT TO ITS CASE. HERE, HIS HANDS ARE EMPTY, ALTHOUGH HEAVILY BLOODSTAINED, AS HE REACHES DOWN AND STARTS TO PRY HIS FINGERS INTO THE RAISED LIPS OF THE DEEPEST WOUND THAT RUNS DIAGONALLY ACROSS HER STOMACH. HIS FINGERS DIP IN, ABOUT TO PRY THE EDGES OF THE WOUND APART. EVERYTHING IS DARK AND BLOODY.
GULL (OFF) : Now..
GULL (OFF) : Let’s see what we have h..

PANEL 8.
SAME SHOT, LOOKING DOWN THROUGH GULL’S EYES. HERE, HOWEVER, HIS FINGERS HAVE PULLED THE SIDES OF THE WOUND BACK. OPENING IT TO OUR VIEW. INSIDE POLLY NICHOL’S STOMACH CAVITY THERE SEEMS TO BE A PURE AND LOVELY GREY-WHITE LIGHT, POOLED IN A BRILLIANT AND LUMINOUS LIQUID MIST. IT SHINES UPWARDS, ILLUMINATING GULL’S BLOODIED HANDS, ITS SOFT, ALMOST HOLY GLOW LIGHTING THE CRUMPLED FOLDS OF POLLY’S RAISED UNDERSKIRTS, LIGHTING THE WOUNDS ACROSS HER STOMACH AND FLINTING UPON HER PUBIC HAIR. THE LIGHT SHINES OUT OF POLLY, RELIGIOUS AND BRIGHT AND MYSTICAL. POURING THROUGH HER JAGGED WOUND AS GULL’S FINGERS PRY IT OPEN.
No Dialogue

Labels: From hell scripts-2

C ontinuing my presentation of Alan Moore's script for From Hell. The first of the murders has been perpetrated and Gull is about to perform his symblic ministrations upon the body.
The case containing the surgical knives seems to want more attention than I gave it here, but what was I to do in the grim darkness of the location and with nine tiny pictures to put on the page. For one, I showed Gull's cutlery in detailed close up on the cover of the third volume from Kitchen Sink Press, (with the help of April Post who assisted me for a spell in the early '90s). There's a look below at the cover of the Brazilain edition.The case in the movie was more pictorially attractive, with it's blood-red velvet lining. I can't find a picture of it online. These pages are mostly just getting the details and business right, but there's a choice phrase below that could only have come from Moore: "THE SHADOWS LEAP LIKE AN ASYLUM GYMNASTICS TEAM."

FROM HELL. CHAPTER FIVE. PAGE 31. (1437 words)
PANEL 1.
ANOTHER NINE PANEL PAGE HERE. TOWARDS THE FOREGROUND, GULL CROUCHES IN A BUSINESS-LIKE MANNER BY THE OPEN GLADSTONE BAG, FROM WHICH HE IS REMOVING THE WOODEN CASE CONTAINING THE AMPUTATION KIT. NETLEY HOVERS IN THE BACKGROUND, NEAR WHERE POLLY NICHOLS’ BODY LIES SPRAWLED. HE IS LOOKING TOWARDS GULL NERVOUSLY AS HE SPEAKS, HOLDING UP THE LANTERN SO THAT HE CAN SEE GULL PROPERLY. HE LOOKS AGITATED AND SCARED. GULL, CROUCHING OVER THE GLADSTONE BAG, PAYS HIM NO HEED AND DOES NOT LOOK AT HIM. HE CHUCKLES TO HIMSELF AS HE EXTRACTS THE AMPUTATION KIT FROM THE DEPTHS OF THE GLADSTONE.
NETLEY: Right. We’ll be away then, shall we, sir?
GULL: Ha ha! With the job half done? I think not. She must be finished with according to the ritual.

PANEL 2.
NOW WE REVERSE ANGLE SO THAT WE ARE SLIGHTLY BEHIND NETLEY, LOOKING PAST HIM AS HE STANDS FACING AWAY FROM US, ROUGHLY HEAD AND SHOULDERS IN THE FOREGROUND, THE LANTERN HELD UP IN HIS HAND. FROM WHAT LITTLE WE CAN SEE OF HIS EXPRESSION HE JUST LOOKS MISERABLE AND UNEASY. LOOKING BEYOND HIM WE SEE GULL, WHO HAS RISEN TO HIS FEET, LEAVING THE OPEN GLADSTONE BAG THERE ON THE COBBLES BEHIND HIM, AND HAS TURNED AND APPROACHED NETLEY. HE STANDS FACING US, LIT BY THE LATERN GLOW, ROUGHLY HALF TO THREE QUARTER FIGURE IN THE IMMEDIATE BACKGROUND. HE HOLDS THE AMPUTATION KIT BEFORE HIM, AND HE IS OPENING IT AS HE SPEAKS TO NETLEY. HE IS LOOKING DOWN AT THE CASE AS HE DOES THIS, RAHTER THAN AT NETLEY. THE LATERN TREMBLES WITH THE PULSE IN NETLEY’S UPRAISED ARM. THE SHADOWS SHIFT AND THEN REGROUP.
NETLEY: But... but she’s dead, sir. There’s no need..
GULL: Would you be a Mason, Netley? Three Rivals betrayed Hiram Abiff, Masonry’s founder.
GULL: Their throats were cut from left to right.

PANEL 3.
CHANGE ANGLES. ALL WE CAN SEE OF GULL IN THE FOREGROUND ARE HIS HANDS, EMERGING FROM OFF PANEL. IN FACT, IT’S AS IF WE SEE THIS PANEL THROUGH GULL’S EYES. WITH ONE HAND, HE HOLDS THE SMALL WOODEN AMPUTATION CASE. WITH THE OTHER, HE HAS EXTRACTED THE LISTON KNIFE FROM ITS SLIT-LIKE RECESS AND IS HOLDING IT UP INTO THE LATERN LIGHT, FOR NETLEY TO SEE. IT HAS A LONG, STRAIGHT, DOUBLE EDGED BLADE OF ABOUT EIGHT INCHES. THE METAL HANDLE IS A FURTHER THREE INCHES AND HAS A CRISS-CROSS PATTERN IN THE METAL TO ENHANCE THE GRIP IN SLIPPERY CONDITIONS. IT IS AN EXCEPTIONALLY BEAUTIFUL KNIFE. LOOKING BEYOND IT WE SEE NETLEY HOLDING UP THE LANTERN AND LOOKING TOWARDS US AND THE KNIFE WITH A SLIGHTLY SICK EXPRESSION. HE CAN FEEL STRONG RIP-TIDES SUCKING THE SAND AWAY FROM BENEATH HIS FEET. THE CURRENTS ARE STRONGER HERE THAN HE EVER IMAGINED, AND HE FEARS THAT THEY WILL TUG HIM OUT INTO AN OCEAN TOO TERRIBLE TO BE THOUGHT OF.
GULL: Now, this is a Liston knife.
GULL: A Crimean battle-surgeon, Liston had legs on the sawdust in less than a minute with these blades.
GULL: Remarkable.

PANEL 4.
NOW WE ARE LOOKING THROUGH NETLEY’S EYES. ALL WE CAN SEE OF NETLEY IS HIS FREE HAND, THE ONE NOT HOLDING THE LATERN. IT ENTERS INTO THE PANEL FROM OFF IN THE FOREGROUND. IN THE IMMEDIATE BACKGROUND, LIT BY THE LIGHT OF THE OFF PANEL LATERN, WE SEE GULL AS HE STANDS FACING US, ROUGHLY HALF FIGURE. HE HAS TUCKED THE SMALL AMPUTATION CASE UNDER HIS ARM, LEAVING HIS HANDS FREE. WITH ONE HAND, HE GRASPS NETLEY’S VISIBLE HAND BY THE WRIST, QUITE GENTLY, AND RAISES IT, PALM UPWARDS, INTO VIEW. WITH HIS OTHER HAND, HE GENTLY PLACES THE COLD LENGTH OF THE LISTON KNIFE UPON NETLEY’S PALM, GIVING THE COACHMAN THE BLADE AS IF HE WERE A KINDLY GRANDPARENT DISPENSING TREATS ON CHRISTMAS MORNING. AS HE DOES THIS, HE STARES INTO OUR EYES AND SMILES BENIGNLY, HIS EYES TWINKLY WITH AMUSEMENT.
GULL: So, Netley...
GULL: Left to right.

PANEL 5.
NOW WE ARE RIGHT BEHIND GULL, SO THAT WE CAN PERHAPS JUST SEE A LITTLE OF HIS HUNCHED SHOULDERS OR A LITTLE OF HIS TOP HAT ENTERING THE PANEL ON THE LEFT, HIS FACE NOT VISIBLE TO US HERE AS HE STANDS THERE EMOTIONLESS AND SILENT AND OBSERVES THE PROCEEDINGS. FACING US AND GULL IN THE IMMEDIATE BACKGROUND IS NETLEY, ROUGHLY HALF FIGURE. HE STANDS, RATHER STUPIDLY, WITH THE LISTON KNIFE RESTING ACROSS HIS PALM, THE LANTERN STILL HELD IN HIS OTHER HAND. HE DOES NOT LOOK AT THE KNIFE. HE JUST STARES UP INTO GULL’S OFF PANEL EYES WITH A LOOK OF STUNNED DISBELIEF. GULL DOES NOT MOVE, SPEAK, OR DO ANYTHING TO LESSEN NETLEY’S DISCOMFORT. LOOKING BEYOND NETLEY, IN THE BACKGROUND AT THE EDGE OF OUR CIRCLE OF LANTERN LIGHT WE CAN SEE POLLY NICHOLS LYING THERE ON THE GROUND EXACTLY AS GULL LEFT HER, HER BLACK BONNET LYING IN THE DARKNESS TO HER RIGHT. IN THE FOREGROUND, NETLEY JUST STARES AT GULL AS IF HOPING THAT THIS IS A MISUNDERSTANDING, AND THAT HE WILL BE GRANTED SOME LAST MINUTE REPREIVE. NONE IS FORTHCOMING.
No Dialogue.

PANEL 6.
SAME SHOT, ONLY HERE NETLEY HAS TURNED HIS HEAD TO LOOK BACK OVER HIS SHOULDER AT THE BODY OF POLLY NICHOLS, THERE IN THE BACKGROUND. HE STILL HOLDS THE KNIFE USELESSLY ACROSS HIS PALM, SEEMING HARDLY TO DARE TO CLOSE HIS FINGERS AROUND IT. HE GAZES INTO THE BACKGROUND, STARING AT THE BODY GULL HAS ASKED HIM TO CUT THE THROAT OF. GULL, IN THE FOREGROUND, DOES NOT MOVE. NETIHER DOES POLLY IN THE BACKGROUND.
No Dialogue

PANEL 7.
CHANGE ANGLES. WE ARE NOW DOWN BY POLLY NICHOLS, SO THAT SHE LIES THERE WITH HER HEAD TOWARDS US. MAYBE THE BLACK BONNET IS VISIBLE, THERE ON THE COBBLES SOMEWHERE TO HER RIGHT, UP IN THE FOREGROUND. OUR ANGLE IS QUITE LOW HERE, AND AS WE LOOK UP PAST POLLY WE CAN SEE THAT JOHN NETLEY HAS TURNED AWAY FROM GULL AND IS WALKING SLOWLY AND CAUTIOUSLY TOWARDS US AND THE BODY. HE LOOMS OVER IT HERE, AND HAS THE LISTON KNIFE IN HIS RIGHT HAND, RAISED ACROSS HIS BODY SO THAT THE KNIFE IS OVER HIS LEFT SHOULDER IN PREPARATION FOR A LEFT TO RIGHT SWEEP OF THE BLADE. HE HOLDS THE LANTERN IN HIS OTHER HAND, AND HIS FACE IS A SWEATY RICTUS OF CONCENTRATION AND TERROR AS HE TIMIDLY ADVANCES UPON THE DEAD WOMAN. HE LOOMS OVER HER HERE, THE BLADE TREMBLING IN HIS HAND AS HE PREPARES TO STRIKE. LOOKING BEYOND HIM WE CAN SEE THE DARK FIGURE OF GULL IN THE BACKGROUND, JUST STANDING AND LOOKING ON, HIS FACE INVISIBLE IN THE SHADOWS, HIS PRESENCE INDICATED ONLY BY A DARKER BULK AGAINST THE DARKNESS SURROUNDING HIM.
No Dialogue.

PANEL 8.
SAME SHOT. NETLEY MAKES A WILD SWIPE WITH THE BLADE ACROSS POLLY’S THROAT. AS HE DOES SO, HE TURNS HIS HEAD AWAY AND CLOSES HIS EYES. THE LANTERN LURCHES WILDLY IN HIS FREE HAND, AND THE SHADOWS LEAPS LIKE AN ASYLUM GYMNASTICS TEAM. THE SLASH ACROSS HER THROAT KNOCKS POLLY’S FACE TO ONE SIDE A LITTLE HERE, AND A FEW DARK SPECKS OF BLOOD FOLLOW THE BLADE IN ITS UPWARDS ARC AFTER IT HAS TRAVELLED ACROSS THE THROAT. GULL STANDS MOTIONLESS IN THE BACKGROUND, LOOKING ON INDULGENTLY AS NETLEY BOTCHES THE FIRST CUT.
No Dialogue.

PANEL 9.
A SIMILAR SHOT NOW, IN THAT WE ARE STILL DOWN NEAR THE HEAD OF THE BODY. GULL HAS WALKED ACROSS FROM THE BACKGROUND HERE AND IS KNEELING DOWN TO INSPECT THE WORK THAT NETLEY HAS DONE. HE HOLDS POLLY’S CHIN, LIGHTLY AND FIRMLY BETWEEN THE FINGERS OF ONE HAND, TILTING HER HEAD SLIGHTLY THIS WAY AND THAT AS HE INSPECTS THE WOUND ACROSS HER THROAT. WITH HIS FREE HAND, HE REACHES OUT ABSENTLY BEHIND HIM, PALM UP, NOT LOOKING AT NETLEY AS HE ASKS NETLEY TO GIVE HIM THE KNIFE, BUT KEEPING HIS INTERESTED DOCTOR’S GAZE UPON POLLY’S THROAT WHILE HE SPEAKS. LOOKING UP BEYOND GULL AND POLLY WE SEE NETLEY, STANDING TREMBLING IN THE NEAR BACKGROUND. THE LANTERN STILL HANGS IN ONE HAND AS HE LEANS WEAKLY AGAINST THE WALL, AND PERHAPS HE RAISES THE HAND HOLDING THE LISTON KNIFE TO HIS BROW, WIPING THE SWEAT AWAY. HE LOOKS TOWARDS GULL WITH SICK HORROR AS HE DOES THIS. WITHOUT LOOKING AT THE COACH MAN WHILE HE INSPECTS POLLY NICHOLS’ CORPSE, GULL HOLDS OUT HIS HAND AND ASKS FOR THE KNIFE.
GULL: Oh, Netley...
GULL: I fear that you will never be a surgeon. See..the blade’s glanced off her collar-bone.
GULL: Ah, well, ten. Give it here. Give me the knife.

Labels: From hell scripts-2

T he next page in my continuing show of Alan Moore's FROM HELL scripts. Polly Nichols has just been murdered.
There's a long thread discussing comic book lettering here at Warren Ellis' ENGINE site. In the middle of it there's some speculation as to where Alan got his custom of writing the body of his scripts in upper case the way he does.
Dave Gibbons chimes in: "If you type the description in upper case, you can just put the caps lock on and bash away, without worrying about the niceties of capitalization at the start of sentences. Having dialogue in lower case differentiates it from the description, obviously. More importantly, it means that you can use caps for bold and don't have to bother going back and underlining. It's a typewriter thing."
I think it's necessary to emphasize that the artist reads the thing once properly and after that needs simple visual cues for finding his way back through it. Separating the descriptions which don't appear on the finished page from the dialogue which does is achieved simply by making one of them all-capitals. The artist can see it all at a glance.
The book of the From Hell scripts (first three chapters only) published in the early ‘90s by Borderlands did not follow the typographical peculiarities of Alan’s manner, which I have always held to in these transcriptions.
Also of interest: you'll find a monstrously colossal argument following Jesse Hamm's excellent post titled Why Comic Book Writers Oughta Mind Their Own Business.
The script for this page is exceptionally long. I guess it was all these technical details of who was where and wearing what and how long would it have taken to get from where they were previously. As you can imagine, I was close to despair as to how I could keep this visually interesting, being somewhat slack on the details and more focussed on atmosphere. I think I got better at it as we went along, but this one taking place in near total darkness gave me pains. I used to get pissed off at those artists (Image) who would proclaim it was fun and when it stopped being fun they'd stop doing it. They should be made to suffer like I suffered. I did a page in Little Italy, years before From Hell, titled How to suffer properly. Must be my catholic upbringing. See, I always thought I should have been the artist on Big Numbers. I could never have equalled the slick art of Bill Sinkiewicz, but I'd have had the suffering down pat.

FROM HELL- Chapter 5- Page 30 ( 1502 words)
PANEL1
THERE ARE NINE PANELS ON THIS PAGE. IN THIS FIRST ONE WE ARE INSIDE THE COACH, SITTING NEXT TO GULL, SO THAT GULL IS IN THE FOREGROUND. BEYOND GULL WE SEE POLLY, STILL SLUMPED MOTIONLESS AND STARING AGAINST THE SIDE OF THE CAB. BEYOND HER, THE CARRIAGE DOOR HAS BEEN OPENED AND JOHN NETLEY POKES HIS HEAD INSIDE TO SEE WHAT SIR WILLIAM WANTS. HIS GAZE COMES TO REST UPON THE CORPSE AND HIS EYES WIDEN SLIGHTLY IN SURPRISE. IN THE FOREGROUND, GULL ISN’T BOTHERING TO LOOK AT NETLEY AS THE COACHMAN LOOKS INTO THE CARRIAGE. INSTAED, GULL IS SLIPPING THE WEDDING RING INTO HIS WAISTCOAT POCKET IN A MATTER OF FACT MANNER, GLANCING DOWN CASUALLY AS HE DOES SO. POLLY STARES INTO THE MIDDLE DISTANCE. ACCORDING TO THE FORENSIC SCIENTISTS OF THE DAY, HER RETINA IS BY NOW IMPRINTED WITH THE IMAGE OF MERRICK, SNIFFING HIS ROSE.
NETLEY: Yes, sir? What can I...?
NETLEY: Oh.
GULL: We’ll require somewhere further from the main streets to complete our task unhindered.
GULL: Help settle her upon my shoulders.

PANEL 2
WE ARE NOW OUTSIDE THE CARRIAGE, GULL HAVING DISMOUNTED TO STAND IN THE DARK STREET, LIT ONLY BY THE LIGHT THAT FILTERS THROUGH THE OPEN CARRIAGE DOOR FROM WITHIN. GULL FACES TOWARDS US WITH HIS BROAD BACK TURNED TOWARDS THE CARRIAGE. NETLEY, ALSO STANDING BY THE CARRIAGE DOOR, IS STRUGGLING AS HE HELPS MANHANDLE POLLY’S STILL-LIMP BODY FROM THE CARRIAGE AND ONTO GULL’S WAITING SHOULDERS. HE LOOKS AT GULL NERVOUSLY AND APPREHENSIVELY. GULL, FACING US IN THE FORGROUND HAS HIS FACE MOSTLY IN SHADOW SINCE THE LIGHT IS DIRECTLY BEHIND HIM. FROM WHAT WE CAN SEE OF HIS FACE, HOWEVER, HIS EXPRESSIPON IS SURLY AS HE BEGINS TO TAKE THE WEIGHT OF POLLY’S INERT AND STARING CORPSE UPON HIS SHOULDERS.
NETLEY : A-are you sure you can manage, sir? She’s...
GULL: Manage so frail a thing as this ? Of course I’m sure. Now, bring my bag. We’ll carry her around the corner.

PANEL 3.
WE ARE STILL HOVERING AROUND THE OPEN COACH DOOR, BUT FROM A DIFFERENT ANGLE, SO THAT WE’RE ALMOST LOOKING ALONG THE LENGTH OF THE COACH HERE, TOWARDS THE HORSES. IN THE FOREGROUND WE SEE NETLEY AS HE LIFTS THE GLASDSTONE BAG FROM WITHIN THE LAMP-LIT CAOCH, ABOUT TO PUSH THE CARRIAGE DOOR SHUT WITH HIS OTHER HAND AS HE DOES SO. WHILE DOING THIS, HE SNEAKS A FRIGHTENED, WORRIED GLANCE BACK OVER HIS SHOULDER, AS IF TO SEE WHAT GULL IS DOING. LOOKING BEYOND NETLEY WE SEE THE DARK, BROAD SHAPE OF WILLIAM GULL AS HE TRUDGES HEAVILY AWAY INTO THE IMPENETRABLE AND STYGIAN EAST END DARKNESS. POLLY NICHOLS’ BODY IS DRAPED ACROSS HIS SHOULDERS LIKE A SACK OF POTATOES. MIARCULOUSLY, ALTHOUGH THE BONNET HAS SLIPPED DOWN OVER HER FACE, IT IS STILL JUST ABOUT HELD IN PLACE BY THE BOW BENEATH HER CHIN. NETLEY SHIVERS AS HE TAKES THE BAG FROM THE COACH, GLANCING BACK OVER HIS SHOULDER TO KEEP AN EYE ON GULL.
No dialogue

PANEL 4
TO THE RIGHT OF THE FORGROUND WE CAN JUST SEE A LITTLE OF WILLIAM GULL AS HE COMES TOWARDS US IN ROUGHLY HEAD AND SHOULDERS CLOSE UP, ALTHOUGH WE CANNOT SEE HIS FACE HERE, THIS BEING OFF TO THE RIGHT HAND SIDE OF THE PANEL. WHAT WE CAN SEE IS PART OF THE FACE OF POLLY NICHOLS AS SHE LIES DRAPED ACROSS GULL’S SHOULDER, JOGGED SLIGHTLY BY THE UNEVEN RHYTHM OF HIS FOOTFALLS, HER STARING FACE UNCOMFROTABLY CLOSE TO US. THE HAT HAS SLIPPED DOWN OVER ONE EYE AND LOOKS AS IF IT’S GOING TO FALL OFF SOONER OR LATER. LOOKING BEYIND THE DEAD FACE OF POLLY NICHOLS AND FURTHER BACK ALONG THE TOP OF THE WHITECHAPEL ROAD WE CAN SEE NETLEY AS HE FOLLOWS TIMIDLY SOME FEW YARDS BEHIND, LOOKING TOWARDS US NERVOUSLY AS HE PADS FORWARD CARRYING THE HEAVY GLADSTONE BAG, BEYOND NETLEY WE CAN PERHAPS MAKE OUT THE MOTIONLESS COACH AS IT WAITS BY THE KERB-SIDE OPPOSITE THE LONDON HOSPITAL. THE BALLOON THAT REPRESENTS GULL’S LABOURED BREATHING HANGS TAILLESS SOMEWHERE IN THE FOREGROUND, NEAR GULL’S OFF-PANEL FACE.
TAILLLESS BALLOON: huff

PANEL 5
WE NOW SEE GULL THROUGH NETLEY’S EYES AS HE PAUSES ON THE CORNER OF WHITECHAPEL ROAD AND BRADY STREET. HE STOPS AND LOOKS UP AT THE STREET SIGN, POLLY’S BODY STILL SLUNG ABOUT HIS SHOULDERS. WE CAN MAYBE ONLY SEE HIM HALF FIGURE OR THEREABOUTS, SO WE AE CLOSE ENOUGH TO SEE THAT HIS FACE IS SOAKED IN SWEAT AS HE GAZES AT THE SIGN. HE FROWNS SLIGHTLY, AS IF PUZZLED BY SOME GAP IN HIS MEMORY. MAYBE IN THE FOREGROUND WE ARE LOW ENOUGH SO THAT WE CAN JUST SEE ONE OF NETLEY’S HANDS ENTERING THE PANEL FROM OFF, CARRYING THE GLADSTONE BAG, JUST AS A WAY OF SHOWING THAT NETLEY IS STILL FOLLOWING GULL DOWN THE STREET WITHOUT ACTUALLY SHOWING ANYONE’S FACE IN THIS PABNEL BUT GULL’S. THE SWEAT RUNS DOWN THE BRIDGE OF HIS NOSE AS HE PEERS UP THOUGHTFULLY AT THE SIGN, STRUCK BY A SENSE OF DÉJÀ VU. THE TWO TAILLESS BALLOONS JUST HANG IN THE AIR BEHIND GULL, LEADING NATURALLY TO HIS ACTUAL SPEECH BALLLOONS.
TAILLESS NBALLOON: huff
TILLESS BALLOON: huff
GULL : "Brady Street."
GULL: huff. Where do I know that name from , Netley?

PANEL 6
NOW GULL HAS STARTED MOVING AGAIN AND IS CONTINUING TO TRUDGE FORWARD, COMING TOWARDS US THROUGH THE DARKNESS WITH A DEAD WOMAN DRAPED ABOUT HIS SHOULDERS LIKE A GARLAND. THE SWEAT STILL RUNS DOWN HIS FACE AS HE WALKS, AND HIS EXPRESSION IS NEUTRAL HERE, WHAT WE CAN SEE OF IT. LOOKING BEYOND GULL WE SEE NETLEY, STILL STANDING NERVOUSLY AND LOOKING APOLOGETICALLY TOWARDS GULL’S BACK AS HE SPEAKS TO HIM. GULL SDOES NOT LOOK BACK AT NETLEY AS HE REPLIES, BUT CONTINUES TO WALK STEADILY TOWARDS US DOWN BRADY STREET. PERHAPS THIS COULD BE A LOW ANGLE SHOT, TO ACCENTUATE THE MASSIVE NATURE OF GULL, SO THAT HE LOOMS ABOVE US AS HE TRUDGES FORWARD BENEATH POLLY’S INERT WEIGHT.
NETLEY: W-why, I couldn’t say, sir...
GULL: No matter... huff... it doesn’t matter.
GULL: huff. Take the next corner on the left.

PANEL 7
NOW WE ARE IN THE NARROW MOUTH OF BUCK’S ROW, LOOKING UP IT TOWARDS THE POINT WHERE IT OPENS ONTO BRADY STREET. LEONARD MATTERS DESCRIBES BUCK’S ROW AS BEING NARROW, COBBLED AND MEAN. ON ONE SIDE ARE "SHABBY’. DIRTY LITTLE HOUSES OF TWO STOREYS, AND ONLY A THREE FEET PAVEMENT SEPARATES THEM FROM THE ROAD, WHICH IS NOT MORE THAN TWENTY FEET FROM WALL TO WALL. ON THE OPPOSITE SIDE ARE THE HIGH WALLS OF WAREHOUSES WHICH AT NIGHT WOULD SHADOW THE DIRTY STREET IN A FAR DEEPER GLOOM THAN ITS OWN CHARACTER IN BROAD DAYLIGHT SUGGESTS. ANYWAY, I’M SURE YOU’LL HAVE REFERENCE PHOTOS OF BUCK’S ROW SOMEWHERE, BUT IF I CAN FIND ANY I’LL SEND THEM ALONG WITH THIS. IN THIS PANEL WE ARE IN BUCK’S ROW, LOOKING UP TOWARDS BRADY STREET. GULL AND NETLEY ARE JUST TURNING THE CORNER OF THE STREET AND COMING DOWN IT TOWARDS US. MAYBE IT WOULD BE A GOOD IDEA IF NETLEY WAS HOLDING THE DETACHED CARRIAGE LANTERN AS WELL AS THE GADSTONE BAG AS HE ACCOMPANIES GULL DOWN THE STREET . SORRY I DIDN’T MENTION IT EARLIER, BUT I ONLY JUST THOUGHT OF IT. SEE IF YOU CAN WORK IT NATURALLY INTO THE EARLIER PANELS IN THIS SEQUENCE. PERHAPS AS THEY ENTER THE NARROW MOUTH OF BUCK’S ROW HERE, COMING TOWARDS US, THE LANTERN IN NETLEY’S HAND CASTS LARGE AND GROTESQUE SHADOWS UPON THE NARROW WALLS OF THE STREET. WE SHOULD MAYBE BE ABLE TO MAKE OUT THE STREET SIGN WITH THE NAME OF THE STREET UPON IT, HIGH ON A WALL SOMEWHERE.
NO dialogue

PANEL 8
ROUGHLY THE SAME SHOT, ONLY HERE NETLEY AND GLL IN PARTICULAR ARE MUCH CLOSER TO US, HAVING REACHED THE FOREGROUND, GULL STOOPS SLIGHTLY FORWARD AS HE ALLOWS THE DEAD WOMAN TO BEGIN TO SLUMP DOWN FROM HIS SHOULDERS. AS HE DOES SO, HER BLACK BONNET FINALLY FALLS OFF. IT IS IN MID AIR HERE, BUT WILL COME TO REST SOMEWHERE IMMEDIATELY TO THE RIGHT OF WHERE SHE WILL END UP LYING. NETLEY HOVERS BEHIND GULL, LOOKING NERVOUS. HE CARRIES THE DIM LANTERN AND THE GLADSTONE BAG.
GULL: huff
GULL: "Buck’s Row. Ha ha. Named for Diana’s sacrificial beast.
GULL : Here. This will do.

PANEL 9
MUCH THE SAME SHOT. WHEREAS POLLY WAS ONLY JUST STARTING TO SLIDE DOWN FROM GULL’S SHOULDERS IN OUR LAST PANEL. HERE WE SEE HIM AS HE CATCHES HER IN HIS ARMS AND LOWERS HER GENTLY ONTO HER BACK UPON THE CONBBBLES. HER BLACK BONNET POSITIONED SOMEHWERE IMMEDIATELY TO HE RIGHT. NETLEY LOOKS ON, HOLDING UP THE LANTERN IN ONE HAND. THE GLADSTONE BAG HAS BEEN SET DOWN ANSD RESTS AT HIS FEET. THIS IS A ‘LAYING TO REST’ PANEL. NOBODY SAYS ANYTHING. POLLY’S EYES STARE, FISH-LUNMINOUS IN THE LANTERN LIGHT.
No dialogue.

Labels: From hell scripts-2

This is a page of FROM HELL where I can see my creative stamina flagging somewhat. That's bound to happen more than once in a 500 page outing. The top row is fine, marking the contrast of the big hands around the small face and the small hand in front of the huge head that Alan Moore asks for in the script (below). I just wish I'd invested more feeling in the lower two thirds, where I seem to have thought a lot of cross hatching might save the day. Just checking the new Top shelf edition (Nov 2006) I notice that in revision I blacked in all of the hatching in the bottom panel in an attempt to rationalize just how much light was getting into the coach from outside, and I've changed the shape of Gull's face too. I shouldn't have tampered with it. I can't remember if this was done way back in '99 for the first collected edition; this scan must be of an older photocopy from my files. Looking at it now I want to rip that panel out and do it again. Or throw the book away and get into some other line of work.
On the other hand, if this was the worst thing that happened to FROM HELL then we'd be laughing, so don't get on my case about it.
In the chapter after this one, six, I got Pete Mullins in to help from the start. He always finished better the I did, more cleanly and decisively, whereas I would start confidently, laying things in boldly before having a head crisis and covering them up with white paint and second thoughts. Having Pete in the room forced me to keep my eye on the ball, psychologically speaking (couldn't let the young guy see me screwing up.) Furthermore, I'm trying to recall what was going on externally, whether this was a time when payments had slowed down. That problem was resolved when I negotiated a situation where Tundra picked up the reprint. That would have been bad for Steve Bissette, who had first dibs on the chapters for his anthology Taboo, but the publishing complications were driving me nuts. Anyway, I would like to think that's why the art was getting a bit ropey around this time (temporarily), but I do remember that chapter six was the last one to appear in Taboo. (1992? 93?)

FROM HELL. CHAPTER 5. PAGE 29. (920 words)
PANEL 1.
NOW A SEVEN PANEL PAGE THAT IS MOSTLY SILENT. THERE ARE THREE PANELS ON EACH OF THE UPPER TWO TIERS AND THEN ONE BIG WIDE ONE ON THE BOTTOM TIER. IN THIS FIRST PANEL IS VERY SIMILAR TO PANEL SIX ON PAGE TWENTY EIGHT, SHOWING MERRICK AS HE REACHES TOWARDS THE ROSEBUSH. HERE, HOWEVER, WE HAVE MOVED IN CLOSER FOR A SHOT THAT'S ALMOST HEAD AND SHOULDERS. ALSO, MERRICK HAS ACTUALLY REACHED THE ROSE BUSH AND IS CUPPING ONE OF THE BLOSSOMS IN HIS GLOVED HAND, STARTING TO BEND IT TOWARDS HIS FACE SO THAT HE CAN SNIFF IT. THIS SHOULD BE A VERY DREAMLIKE IMAGE, POSSESSED OF A KIND OF MONSTROUS BEAUTY.
No dialogue.

PANEL 2.
NOW WE RETURN TO A VERY TOIGHT CLOSE-UP OF POLLY'S FACE AS IT FILLS THE ENTIRE PANEL. HER EYES HAVE OPENED WIDE IN SUDDEN SURPRISE, FILLED WITH A LOOK OF PUZZLED DISMAY, THE PUPILS CONTRACTED TO PIN-PRICKS. POLLY'S MOUTH IS A TINY "O" OF SURPRISE AS SHE STARES OUT OF THE PANEL AT US. WE CAN'T SEE GULL'S FINGERS AS THEY DIG IN LIKE IRON BARS UPON POLLY'S ARTERIES, BUT WE CAN SEE HIS THUMBS, WHICH ARE HERE PRESSING IN HARD UPON POLLY'S CHEEKS, SQUASHING THE FLESH UP IN SMALL FOLDS WITH THE PRESSURE. HER SMALL FACE IS HELD BRUTALLY IMMOBILE BETWEEN THE THUMBS WHILE THE FINGERS, FURTHER DOWN AND OFF PANEL HERE, CLOSE OFF THE BLOOD SUPPLY TO THE BRAIN. AS THE FACT OF DEATH OPENS IN HER MIND LIKE A WHITE FLOWER, POLLY CAN ONLY SUMMON AN EXPRESSION OF DISAPPOINTED INCOMPREHENSION WITH WHICH TO GREET ETERNITY.
No dialogue

PANEL 3.
NOW BACK TO OUR SHOT OF MERRICK AS SEEN THROUGH POLLY'S EYES. HERE, WE HAVE MOVED IN EVEN CLOSER SO THAT HIS MASSIVE HEAD FILLS THE ENTIRE PANEL, THE ONE RAGGED EYE HOLE CLEARLY VISIBLE. WITHOUT BREAKING THE STEM THAT HE HAS CAREFULLY BENT DOWN TOWARDS HIS FACE, MERRICK GENTLY CRUSHES THE ROSE AGAINST THE FOLDS OF HIS MASK, TRYING TO SMELL IT THROUGH THE CLOTH. THUS WE HAVE POLLY NICHOLLS' LAST SIGHT UPON THIS EARTH; THE FOLDS IN THE CLOTH, THE BLACK HOLE OF THE CYCLOPSEYE LIKE A CIGARETTE BURN, THE ROSE PRESSED UP AGAINST THE MASK.
No dialogue.

PANEL 4
NOW WE HAVE A SILENT SHOT OF THE COACH AS IT STANDS MOTIONLESS IN THE DARK STREET OPPOSITE THE HOSPITAL, WHICH WE NEED NOT SEE HERE. NETLEY SITS ATOP THE BOX, HIS WHIP RESTING ACROSS HIS LAP. HE IS PRETTY MUCH IN SHADOW. THE PALE AND SICKLY LIGHT IS STILL VISIBLE, BURNING THROUGH THE WINDOWS OF THE COACH, BUT IT ONLY TELLS US THAT THE COACH IS OCCUPIED, AND IT GIVES US NO HINT OF WHAT MIGHT BE GOING ON WITHIN THE STATIONARY VEHICLE. ALL ABOUT THE COACH IT IS DARK.
No dialogue

PANEL 5.
NOW WE CLOSE IN UPON NETLEY AS HE SITS ATOP THE BOX, VIEWING HIM IN WHAT'S PROBABLY A HALF FIGURE SHOT HERE. AS GULL'S VOICE FILTERS UP FROM THE COACH OFF PANEL BELOW, NETLEY TURNS HIS HEAD ROUND TOWARDS THE SOURCE OF THE VOICE AS HE REPLIES, HIS EXPRESSION ONE OF NERVOUS READINESS.
GULL: (OFF BELOW, FROM COACH. ): Netley?
NETLEY: Sir?

PANEL 6.
NOW A HEAD AND SHOULDERS CLOSE UP OF GULL AS HE SITS INSIDE THE COACH, FACING US. HIS EXPRESSION IS CALM AND WITHOUT VISIBLE EMOTION. HE IS HOLDING UP A HAND IN THE FOREGROUND, AND IT MAY TAKE US A MOMENT TO REALIZE THAT IT IS NOT HIS. HE IS HOLDING UP POLLY'S HAND, HIS FINGERS CLOSED AROUND THE WRIST AS HE LIFTS IT. THE HAND DANGLES LIMPLY AS GULL HOLDS IT UP BEFORE HIS FACE TO STUDY IT. WITH HIS FREE HAND, GULL IS REACHING INTO THE PICTURE AND IS STARTING TO TWIST THE WEDDING RING FREE FROM POLLY'S FINGER. HE STARES AT THE RING AS DOES THIS, BUT HIS FACE HAS THE CALM OF A JEWELLER AS HE REMOVES THE WEDDING RING. HE DOES NOT LOOK UP FROM HIS REMOVAL OF THE RING AS HE SPEAKS TO NETLEY, UP ON TOP OF THE COACH IN THE DARK. WE CANNOT SEE ANY MORE OF POLLY THAN HER HAND.
GULL: Could you come down here for a moment, please?

PANEL 7
NOW WE HAVE A BIG WIDE PANEL , WITH WHICH WE FINISH THE PAGE,. WE ARE SITTING OPPOSITE GULL AND POLLY , SO THAT THEIR CARRIAGE SEAT STRETCHES ACROSS THE WHOLE OF THE IMMEDIATE BACKGROUND HERE. GULL SITS MORE TOWARDS THE RIGHT OF THE SEAT. HE IS HOLDING UP THE WEDDING RING, WHICH HE HAS NOW COMPLETELY REMOVED, AND IS WATCHING IT WITH AN UNNATURAL DEGREE OF CALM ABSORPTION AS HE TURNS IT THIS WAY AND THAT, GETTING IT TO CATCH THE LIGHT AND GLITTER IN THE SOFT YELLOW RADIANCE FROM THE CARRIAGE LANTERN. POLLY IS SITTING FACING US, LEANING UP AGAINST ONE DOOR OF THE CARRIAGE, HER HAT TILTED AT AN EVEN MORE ABSURD ANGLE BUT STILL FIXED ATOP HER HEAD BY THE BOW BENEATH HER CHIN. HER HANDS AND FEET SEEM TO BE SLUNG LIMPLY ANYWHERE, LIKE THE LIMBS OF A RAG DOLL. SHE IS DEAD. HER EYES STARE BLANKLY AT US AND HER MOUTH HANGS OPEN STUPIDLY. STTING NEXT TO HER, GULL DOES NOT APPEAR TO BE EVEN SLIGHTLY INTERESTED. HE JUST HOLDS UP THE WEDDING RING THAT HE HAS TAKEN AS KEEPSAKE OF THEIR DARK AND METAPHYSICAL MARRIAGE, WATCHING WITH FASCINATION AS IT GLITTERS CRYPTICALLY IN THE LAMP LIGHT.
NO dialogue

Labels: From hell scripts-2

Back on that dark London street, Polly Nicholls is still about to be murdered in Alan Moore's script for FROM HELL . I always thought this page was set up like a scene in a play, with Gull and Polly on one side of the stage, and John Merrick on the other. The hand gestures are clearly in view and you can almost hear the words echoing around the auditorium.

FROM HELL. CHAPTER 5. PAGE 28 (1,198 words)
PANEL 1.
A NINE PANEL PAGE NOW. IN THIS FIRST PANEL WE ARE INSIDE THE CARRIAGE. IN THE FOREGROUND WE CAN SEE GULL’S HANDS AS HE SITS THERE WITH THE GRAPES UPON HIS LAP. LOOKING PAST THIS, WE CAN SEE POLLY ROUGHLY HALF FIGURE. SHE’S NOT LOOKING TOWARDS US, BUT IS SITTING IN PROFILE. ONCE MORE, SHE CLOSES HER EYES AS SHE SPEAKS AND RAISES HER HAND TO HER BROW AS IF DIZZY OR FAINT. BEYOND HER, THROUGH THE CARRIAGE WINDOW, WE CAN ONLY SEE DARKNESS.
POLLY: W-where are we, Sir? I’ve been all over tonight...
POLLY: I remember... I came out of "The Frying Pan", into...
GULL (OFF): Hush, child. We’re by the London Hospital.

PAGE 2.
NOW WE ARE JUST OUTSIDE THE CARRIAGE WINDOW ON POLLY’S SIDE, WHICH IS THE SIDE FACING THE HOSPITAL. FROM THE SOFTLY LIT INTERIOR OF THE CARRIAGE, POLLY IS TURNED TO GAZE OUT OF THE WINDOW AT US, PEERING INTO THE NIGHT. GULL IS VISIBLE SITTING JUST BEYOND HER, ALSO TURNED TO LOOK IN THE DRECTION IN WHICH HE IS DIRECTING HER TO TRAIN HER EYES. HE RESTS ONE HAND ON HER SHOULDER IN A FATHERLY WAY, WHILE WITH THE OTHER HE POINTS PAST HER, OUT THROUGH THE CARRIAGE WINDOW TOWARDS US AND OUT INTO THE DARKNESS. HE SMILES, A CALM, DARK SMILE OF TOTAL SELF ASSURANCE. POLLY PEERS UNCERTAINLY OUT INTO THE DARK AT US, NOT QUITE SURE WHAT SHE’S SUPPOSED TO BE LOOKING AT.
GULL: I wish to show you someone. Someone who requires an offering at the commencement of each journey or important venture.
GULL: Look there... between the railings.

PAGE 3.
NOW WE CLOSE IN FROM OUR LAST PANEL, CLOSING IN THROUGH THE WINDOW UPON POLLY’S FACE SO THAT IT ALMOST FILLS THE ENTIRETY OF THE PANEL, OVER TO THE LEFT. SHE SQUINTS OUT INTO THE DARKNESS, TRYING TO SEE WHAT GULL IS ATTEMPTING TO POINT OUT TO HER. IMMEDIATELY BEHIND HER, ON THE RIGHT OF THE PANEL, THE REST OF THE IMAGE SPACE IS TAKEN UP BY GULL AS HE LOOMS OVER HER SHOULDER. HE HAS PLACED BOTH HIS HANDS UPON HER SHOULDERS NOW, WITH ONE ON EACH, AS IF HE IS STEERING HER TO LOOK IN THE RIGHT DIRECTION. IT ISN’T A THREATENING GESTURE, AND IS CONDUCTED VERY GENTLY, WITH A FATHERLY TOUCH.
GULL: Do you see him, Polly?
GULL: Do you see?

PANEL 4.
NOW WE HAVE THE FIRST OF THE THREE SILENT PANELS THAT TAKE UP THIS CENTRAL TIER. IN THIS FIRST ONE WE ARE LOOKING THROUGH POLLY’S EYES WITH POLLY HERSLF NOT VISBLE. SHE IS LOOKING OUT THROUGH THE WINDOW OF THE COACH, ALTHOUGH IT’S UP TO YOU WHETHER THE FRAME OF THE WINDOW IS VISBLE OR NOT. WE ARE LOOKING WITH POLLY ACROSS THE COBBLES OF THE WHITECHAPEL ROAD TOWARDS THE RAILED –OFF GROUNDS OF THE LONDON HOSPITAL BEYOND. THERE DOES SEEM TO BE A VAGUE DARK FIGURE MOVING THROUGH THE SHADOWS BEYOND THE RAILINGS, BUT AT THIS DISTANCE IT IS DIFFICULT TO MAKE OUT.
No dialogue.

PANEL 5.
NOW WE START TO CLOSE IN UPON THIS IMAGE, SO THAT WE APPEAR TO HAVE CROSSED THE ROAD AND ARE PASSING THROUGH THE RAILINGS HERE. WE CAN NOW SEE THE FIGURE MORE CLEARLY, BEING CLOSER TO IT, AS IT WANDERS SLOWLY AND FORLORNLY THROUGH THE GROUNDS OF THE HOSPITAL. AS WE SEE IT HERE IT IS SHAMBLING SLOWLY TOWARDS ONE OF THE SICKLY ROSE BUSHES PLANTED AROUND THE FRINGE OF THE GROUNDS. IT WEARS A CLOAK, AND A GIGANTIC SAILOR’S PEAKED CAP. OVER ITS GIGANTIC HEAD IT WEARS A WHITE BAG WITH A SINGLE EYEHOLE ROUGHLY CUT INTO IT. IT IS STILL PROABABLY TOO SHADOWY AND INDISTINCT HERE TO MAKE OUT ALL THESE DETAILS, BUT I’M JUST TELLING YOU FOR FUTURE REFERENCE. THE FIGURE IS, OF COURSE, JOHN MERRICK, OUT FOR A NOCTURNAL STROLL AROUND THE HOSPITAL GROUNDS.
No dialogue

PANEL 6.
WE CLOSE IN EVEN FURTHER FOR A HALF FIGURE SHOT OF MERRICK AS HE PAUSES TO GAZE AT THE SICKLY ROSE BUSH. IN WHATEVER WEAK LIGHT SHINES FROM THE HOSPITAL WE SEE HIM, A SHADOWY YET UNMISTAKEABLE FIGURE. HE STOPS BY THE ROSE BUSH, REACHING SLOWLY OUT TOWARDS ONE OF THE BLOSSOMS.
No dialogue.

PANEL 7.
NOW WE ARE WITHIN THE CARRIAGE ONCE MORE, SITTING BESIDE GULL SO THAT HE IS CLOSEST TO US HERE. HE IS TURNED AWAY FROM US WITH POLLY SITTING JUST BEYOND HIM, ALSO TURNED AWAY AS SHE GAZES OUT THROUGH THE WINDOW INTO THE NIGHT. GULL STILL HAS HIS HANDS RESTING GENTLY UPON POLLY’S SHOULDERS FROM BEHIND, BUT SHE APPEARS NEITHER TO MIND NOR NOTICE AS SHE GAZES OUT THROUGH THE WINDOW. IF WE CAN SEE ANY OF HER EXPRESSION SHE LOOKS VAGUELY SURPRISED AND PLEASED TO HAVE LOCATED THE FIGURE THAT SIR WILLIAM WAS POINTING OUT TO HER.
POLLY: Why... why... yes! I sees ‘im, standin’ by the rose bush there. That mask. He...he looks so quaint...
GULL: Yes, yes. Now, child, there’s something you must SAY for me.

PANEL 8.
REVERSE ANGLES NOW SO THAT WE ARE LOOKING AT POLLY FROM THE FRONT AS SHE GAZES TOWARDS US OUT THROUGH THE WINDOW OF THE COACH, ALTHOUGH THE WINDOW NEEDN’T BE VISIBLE HERE, BEING OFF PANEL IN THE FORGROUND. SHE GIVES AN OPIATED HALF SMILE AND LOOKS VAGUELY PUZZLED, NOT LOOKING ROUND TOWARDS GULL AS SHE DOES SO BUT CONTINUING TO GAZE DREAMILY OUT INTO THE NIGHT TOWARDS US. BEHIND HER, WE SEE GULL. HIS HANDS STILL REST UPON HER SHOULDERS, AND HE HAS COMMENCED TO GENTLY STROKE EITHER SIDE OF HER FACE WITH HIS THUMBS. SHE DOESN’T SEEM TO NOTICE. GULL’S EYES ARE IN SHADOW AND HIS SMILE IS DARK AS HE WHISPERS INTO HER EAR FROM JUST OVER HER SHOULDER,
POLLY: Say, sir?
GULL: Yes. You must say "salutation to Ganesa". Can you do that?

PANEL 9.
IN THIS LAST PANEL WE CLOSE IN UPON THE IMAGE IN OUR LAST SHOT, SO THAT WE ARE SO CLOSE TO POLLY SO THAT WE CANNOT EVEN SEE ALL OF HER FACE. ALL THAT WE CAN SEE IS THE LOWER HALF OF HER FACE. AND HER EYES ARE NO LONGER VISIBLE. WE CAN ALSO SEE HER NECK AND HER SHOULDERS CLEARLY. GULL’S HANDS ARE VISIBLE, REACHING INTO THE PICTURE FROM BEHIND TO EITHER SIDE OF HER THROAT. THE WAY HIS FINGERS ARE ARRANGED WILL SEEM A LITTLE UNNATURAL, BUT I THINK IT CAN BE DONE: HIS THUMBS REST ON HER CHEEKBONES, OR THEREABOUTS, HOLDING HER FACE IMMOBILE BETWEEN THEM. HIS INDEX FINGER AND HIS SECOND FINGER ARE SPLAYED OUT SO THAT THEY ARE LOWER DOWN, AND ARE JUST RESTING LIGHTLY AGAINST THE SIDES OF POLLY’S THROAT, WHERE HER CAROTID ARTERY IS LOCATED. THE OTHER TWO FINGERS ON EACH HABND CAN BE WHEREVER THEY LOOK BEST. THE HANDS ARE RELAXED HERE. AND STILL ONLY TOUCHING POLLY VERY GENTLY. THEY ARE LIKE THE CARESS OF AN AFFECTIONATE PARENT, OR PERHAPS A LOVER, AND THEY AROUSE NO SUSPICION. POLLY’S EYES ARE DREAMY AND UNFOCUSSED AS SHE GAZES OUT OF THE WINDOW AT US, HER MIND CLOUDED BY DRINK AND LAUDANUM.
POLLY: Ha. I... I think I can, sir.
POLLY: "Sa... sal’tation... to Ga-nee-sha."

Labels: From hell scripts-2

The Blogger problem persists and I still can't upload pictures, so I looked in my drafts folder (where there are always around twenty posts under development) and found one with piccies already up. (Update-it seems to be fixed, but the die is cast.)
This is page 1 of chapter 1 of Alan Moore's FROM HELL scripts, with the page of art that I made from it (in this case shown in two 'states'). It wasn't the first page drawn, as there was already the 8 page prologue completed, but it was the first with a title panel. The prologue had required a heading in the style of the infamous ripper 'From Hell' letter and was thus separate from the standard chapter headings. Nevertheless, you can see here that Alan was still thinking of these cinematically, with large blocked lettering superimposed on the opening scene (or 'shot'). I thought it would be more in keeping with the ambience of the work to do it in the style of a bookplate or something of that nature, and had my pal Des Roden work out a hand-calligraphed series of chapter-headings for the original Taboo/Tundra/ Kitchen appearances. When I collected the work together in 1999 Mick Evans replaced those with a typeset version, but in a more funereal white-on-black.
I see myself on this page earnestly trying to get all the information in. I zoomed in on the details for the first panel. Those pasted on xeroxes of authentic sweets/candies labels went a long way to establishing the place and period feeling, giving me enough credit in the bank so I could concentrate on the people for the rest of the page. Still, in '99 I was unhappy with the representations of Eddy's face and you can see them all slightly altered in the second version, with the whole figure in the final panel being replaced. This is a standard problem with the first appearances of characters. Later the artist gets comfortable and knows exactly how they look and move and feel.

CHAPTER 1: THE AFFECTIONS OF YOUNG MR. S.
PAGE 1 (1767 words)
PANEL 1.
THERE ARE SEVEN PANELS ON THIS FIRST PAGE, PROBABLY WITH A BIG WIDE ONE AT THE TOP OF THE PAGE HERE, SPANNING ITS FULL WIDTH. THE DATE, AS WE SHALL SEE, IS JULY, 1884, AND THE PLACE IS CLEVELAND STREET, LONDON, ONE OF THE MORE FASHIONABLE AND UPMARKET AREAS OF THAT PERIOD, AS FAR AS THE METROPOLIS WENT. WE ARE INSIDE A CONFECTIONERS-CUM-TABACCONIST SITUATED AT NO. 22 CLEVELAND STREET, AND IN THIS FIRST PANEL WE ARE LOOKING AT A LONG SHELF THAT NEATLY FILLS THE SPACE ALLOWED BY THIS FIRST WIDE, HORIZONTAL PANEL, STRETCHING FROM ONE SIDE OF THE PAGE TO THE OTHER. UPON THE SHELF THERE ARE OLD-FASHIONED SWEET JARS CONTAINING OLD-FASHIONED SWEETS: ANISEED BALLS, WINTER MIXTURE, MINT IMPERIALS, SUGARED ALMONDS, ACID DROPS, BON BONS AND SO FORTH... ALONG WITH SOME EVIDENCE TO SHOW THAT THE SHOP IS ALSO A TOBACCONIST’S... PERHAPS A BOX OF CIGARS, OR PARTITIONED TRAY OF DIFFERENT TOBACCOS. MAYBE WE CAN SEE A HINT OF THE TOPS OF THE JARS ON THE SHELF BELOW THIS ONE HERE, BUT ONLY IF THERE’S ROOM. OVER ON THE RIGHT OF THE WIDE PANEL, WE CAN SEE THE ARMS OF A TWENTY-FIVE YEAR OLD SHOPGIRL NAMED ANNIE CROOK, A STURDILY BUILT AND TIDILY DRESSED YOUNG WOMAN, AS SHE REACHS UP FROM OFF PANEL BELOW TO TAKE A FEW MORE PIECES OF BARLEY SUGAR FROM A JAR ON THE TOP SHELF. ONE OF HER HANDS MANAGES TO HOLD THE JAR’S LID AND ALSO TO TILT THE OPEN JAR OVER TOWARDS HER. HER OTHER HAND DIPS IN TO RETRIEVE A COUPLE OF SINGLE PIECES OF DEEP ORANGE BARLEY SUGAR. WE CANNOT SEE ANY MORE OF HER THAN HER ARMS, ENTERING THE PICTURE FROM BELOW. THE REST OF THE PANEL IS JUST TOBACCO AND DIFFERENT SORTS OF SWEETS: I WANT THIS TO BE A PANEL THAT YOU CAN ALMOST SMELL, IF YOU KNOW WHAT I MEAN. THE TITLE LETTERING IS SUPERIMPOSED OVER THE LEFT OF THE PANEL SOMEWHERE, DOWN TOWARDS THE BOTTOM.

PANEL 2
NOW WE ARE BEHIND THE COUNTER OF THE SHOP, WITH THE SHOPGIRL, LOOKING OUT OVER IT. ON THE SHOP’S COUNTER THERE IS AN OLD FASHIONED WEIGHING SCALE OR BALANCE, INTO ONE OF THE PANS OF WHICH WE SEE ANNIE CROOK DROPPING THE COUPLE OF PIECES OF BARLEY SUGAR THAT SHE’S JUST TAKEN FROM THE JAR, AS IF TO MAKE UP THE WEIGHT. WE CAN STILL SEE NO MORE OF HER THAN HER HANDS AND CUFFS, ENTERING FROM THE LEFT OF THE FOREGROUND HERE. LOOKING OUT ACROSS THE COUNTER AND INTO THE SHADOWY REMAINDER OF THE SHOP WE SEE TWO YOUNG MEN STANDING WAITING FOR THE WOMAN TO FINSIH DELIVERING THE SWEETS THAT THEY ARE PURCHASING. ONE OF THESE, DRESSED IN A MUSTARD COLOUR CHECK SUIT OF SOMEWHAT QUESTIONABLE TASTE AND LOUDNESS, IS YOUNG WALTER SICKERT, AGED 24 YEARS OLD. THE OTHER YOUNG MAN IS MUCH MORE SOMBERLY AND ELEGANTLY DRESSED IN A GENTLEMAN’S BLACK COAT, AND ALTHOUGH HE WILL BE INTRODUCED TO US AS SICKERT’S YOUNG BROTHER ALBERT, HE IS IN FACT THE YOUNG DUKE OF CLARENCE, PRINCE ALBERT VICTOR CHRISTIAN EDWARD... OR PRINCE EDDY FOR SHORT. AT THE TIME OF THIS FIRST SCENE, IN 1884, HE IS ONLY TWENTY YEARS OLD. HE’S QUITE GOOD LOOKING, BUT THERE’S SOMETHING RATHER BOVINE ABOUT HIS EXPRESSION. HE ISN’T TERRIBLY BRIGHT, KNOWS IT, AND FEEELS WRETCHEDLY SELF-CONSCIOUS ABOUT IT. HE’S NAÏVE TO THE POINT OF BEING INFANTILE, AND HAVING LED A RELATIVELY LOVELESS EXISTENCE IS INCLINED TO FALL PASSIONATELY IN LOVE WITH ANYONE HE MEETS. COUPLED WITH THIS, HIS INFANTILE NEEDS FOR GRATIFICATION MANIFEST THEMSELVES IN HIS SEX LIFE TO MAKE HIM FAIRLY PROMISCUOUS... ALTHOUGH THAT’S SOMEWHAT TOO KNOWING A TERM TO CONVEY THE CHILDISHNESS, ALMOST INNOCENCE, OF HIS EMOTIONAL AND SEXUAL EXPERIENCE. HE HAS HAD SYPHILIS SINCE THE AGE OF SIXTEEN, ALTHOUGH THIS WILL NOT MANIFEST ITS WORSE EFFECTS UNTIL LATE IN EDDY’S LIFE. AS HE STANDS WITH SICKERT HERE HE HOLDS A TOP HAT NERVOUSLY AND AWKWARDLY BENEATH HIS ARM, AND IS STARING ALMOST SLACK JAWED AT THE OFF PANEL WOMAN BEHIND THE COUNTER, FAR TOO GAUCHE TO CONCEAL HIS WIDE-EYED INTEREST, OR EVEN TO BE AWARE THAT HE IS SHOWING IT. SICKERT, ON THE OTHER HAND, IS COMPARATIVELY EASY AND RELAXED, A CONFIDENT YOUNG BOHEMIAN ABOUT TOWN. HE HAS A SMART DERBY HAT TUCKED JAUNTILY UNDER HIS ARM, OR IS HOLDING IT IN ONE HAND. HIS GAZE IS DIRECTED AT THE LAST PIECES OF BARLEY SUGAR BEING DROPPED INTO THE SCALE, RATHER THAN AT THE YOUNG WOMAN DOING THE DROPPING, AS IS THE CASE WITH HIS COMPANION. HE SMILES FAINTLY, RELAXEDLY, UTTERLY AT EASE. THE SHOP HAS A LARGE FRONT WINDOW, AND THE BRIGHT SUNSHINE FALLS IN FROM OUTSIDE IN SHAFTS, A SOLID EDGED RHOMBOID OF WHITE GOLD LIGHT AGAINST THE MUSTY UMBER DARKNESS OF THE SWEETHSOP, WITH ITS JARS AND TRAYS AND SELECTIONS OF BRIAR PIPES. FALLEN FROM THE OFF PANEL WOMAN’S FINGERS, THE LAST PIECE OF BARLEY SUGAR HANGS SUSPENDED AND MAGICALLY IN MID AIR, CAUGHT FROZEN BETWEEN HAND AND WEIGHING SCALE. THE CAPTION CAN BE AT THE TOP OR BOTTOM. UP TO YOU.
CAP: LONDON, JULY 1884.

PANEL 3.
NOW A SIDE ON SHOT, LOOKING DOWN THE LENGTH OF THE COUNTER TOWARDS THE SHOP’S FRONT WINDOW, SO THAT WE CAN SEE ALL THE THREE PARTICIPANTS CLEARLY. ANNIE STANDS, FULLY VISIBLE FOR THE FIRST TIME, BEHIND THE COUNTER, OVER TO THE LEFT OF PANEL HERE. SHE’S POURING THE BARLEY SUGAR FROM THE PAN OF THE SCALES INTO A LITTLE TRIANGULAR BAG MADE OF WHITE PAPER. THE BARLEY SUGAR LUMPS ARE SOMEWHAT MELTED AND STUCK TOGETHER, ON ACCOUNT OF THE FEROCIOUS AND SWELTERING JULY HEAT. ANNIE IS A LARGE AND STURDILY BUILT WOMAN WITH BROAD FEATURES. SHE ISN’T FAT, YOU UNDERSTAND, JUST BIG; ONLY A LITTLE SHORTER THAN PRINCE EDDY. SHE ISN’T IMMEDIATELY PRETTY OR BEAUTIFUL, BUT HER CHARACTER AND WARMTH ARE EVIDENT, AND DO MUCH TO COMPENSATE FOR THIS BY LENDING HER OWN UNIQUE AIR OF ANIMATION AND CHARM. SHE SMILES QUIETLY AS SHE POURS THE BARLEY SUGAR INTO THE WHITE PAPER BAG, EYES TWINKLY WITH FRIENDLY AMUSEMENT AS SHE SPEAKS DIRECTLY TO SICKERT. PRINCE EDDY, IN THE BACKGROUND, HOLDS HIS TOP HAT WRETCHEDLY IN BOTH HANDS AND STARES AT THE WOMAN BEHIND THE COUNTER WITH A MOONSTRUCK EXPRESSION THAT BORDERS UPON THE IMBECILIC. SICKERT GRINS AT ANNIE AS HE SPEAKS TO HER. SHE’S MODELLED FOR HIM IN THE PAST AND THE TWO ARE QUITE FRINEDLY AND RELAZED AROUND EACH OTHER. ANNIE COMES FROM SCOTLAND ORIGINALLY, BY THE WAY.
ANNIE: There. Two pennorth on the nail. I’d not want to jew you now, would I?
ANNIE: I’m sorry they’re all of a lump. It’s this weather.
SICKERT: Nonsense, Annie. They look mouth-watering.

PANEL 4.
SAME SHOT EXACTLY. ALL OF THE SWEETS ARE NOW IN THE BAG AND ANNIE IS PLACING THE BAG (WITH A TWIST AT THE TOP CORNERS) ONTO THE COUNTER. SICKERT IS IN THE ACT OF TAKING A COUPLE OF COPPER PENNIES FROM HIS COAT POCKET. BOTH ANNIE AND SICKERT SORT OF PAUSE IN MID MOVEMENT AND TURN THEIR HEADS TO LOOK SLIGHTLY AWAY FROM US TOWARDS EDDY, WHO STAND FACING US IN THE IMMEDIATE BACKGROUND HERE, IN MORE OR LESS THE SAME POSITION AS LAST PANEL. HE LOOKS DEADFULLY EMBARASSED, AND, AS IS USUAL AT SUCH TIMES, STARTS TO EVIDENCE A FAINT STAMMER, A MERE ECHO OF HIS FATHER’S FAR MORE SERIOUS SPEECH DIFFICULTY. HE GAZES AT ANNIE WITH CHILDISH, AWESTRUCK ADORATION. YOU CAN SEE HOW PEOPLE MIGHT BE TOUCHED BY THE NAKED SINCERITY OF A YOUNG MAN OF EDDY’S YEARS AND STATION. SICKERT AND ANNIE LOOK SURPRISED.
EDDY: A-as do you...i-if I may say so.
EDDY: That is, ah...

PANEL 5
REVERSE ANGLE NOW, SO THAT EDDY FACES SLIGHTLY AWAY FROM US, HEAD AND HSOULDERS IN THE FOREGROUND AS HE GAZES TOWARDS SICKERT AND ANNIE IN THE CENTRE OF THE IMMEDIATE BACKGROUND, STANDING TO EITHER SIDE OF THE SHOP’S COUNTER. EDDY LOOKS WRETCHEDLY AGITATED AND ANXIOUS AND WORRIED IN THE WAKE OF HIS OUTBURST, FEARFUL THAT ANNIE HAS TAKEN OFFENCE. ANNIE, STANIDNG BEHIND THE COUNTER, TURNS AND GAZES AT EDDY WHILE SHE SPEAKS TO SICKERT. HER EYES ARE WIDE WITH SURPRISE AND SHE HAS A FAINT SMILE THAT IS SLIGHTLY MOCKING, BUT KINDLY. SICKERT, LAYING HIS TWO PENNIES DOWN ON THE COUNTER TOP, TURNS ALSO TO LOOK AT EDDY, GRINNING BROADLY WITH AMUSEMENT AT THE YOUNG CHAP’S OBVIOUS DISCOMFORT. WITH HIS OTHER HAND HE IS PICKING UP THE SMALL WHITE BAG OF BARLEY SUGAR.
ANNIE: Why, Mr. S. You do entertain the most IMPERTINENT companions.
EDDY: I...please, I apologize. I only meant...

PANEL 6
NOW BACK TO AN ANGLE SIMILAR TO THAT EMPLOYED IN THE PANELS THREE AND FOUR, WITH THE COUNTER RUNNING AWAY FROM US, ANNIE ON ONE SIDE AND THE TWO GENTLEMEN ON THE OTHER. TOWARDS THE FOREGROUND, ANNIE IS PLACING THE MONEY IN THE DRAWER OF AN OLD FASHIONED VICTORIAN TILL. IN THE NEAR BACKGROUND, AGAINST THE LIGHT OF THE SHOP WINDOW, SICKERT HAS TAKEN A STEP ACROSS SO THAT HE’S BEHIND EDDY WITH HIS HANDS CLASPED FATHERLY UPON EACH OF EDDY’S SHOULDERS FROM BEHIND AS HE STEERS THE RELUCTANT AND LOVESTRUCK YOUNG MAN TOWARDS THE COUNTER, IN ORDER TO PROPERLY INTRODUCE HIM TO ANNIE. ANNIE LOOKS AT THE FRIGHTENED AND UNCOMFORTABLE-LOOKING EDDY WITH AMUSEMENT IN HER EYES. SHE THINKS HE'S CUTE. EDDY SHUFFLES FORWARD UNDER SICKERT'S GENTLE PRESSURE FROM BEHIND, HIS TOP HAT IN HIS HANDS.
SICKERT: Oh, come on, old chap. She's just having you on.
SICKERT: Annie, this... this is my younger brother, ALBERT.
SICKERT: Uh, Albert, this is Miss Annie Crook.

PANEL 7.
SIMILAR SHOT NOW. IN THE FOREGROUND, ANNIE SMILES AND REACHES ONE HAND ACROSS THE COUNTER TOP TOWARDS EDDY, AS IF TO SHAKE HANDS. EDDY STARES DOWN STUPIDLY AT THE HAND AS IF NOT SURE WHAT TO DO WITH IT, HIS OWN HAND RISING ONLY HESITANTLY TO MEET IT. IN THE NEAR BACKGROUND, SICKERT HAS TAKEN A STEP AWAY AND IS IN THE ACT OF SETTING HIS DERBY ATOP HIS HEAD IN PREPARATION FOR GOING OUTSIDE. PERHAPS HE'S CHECKING HIS REFLECTION IN A GLASS FRONTED CABINET OR SOMETHING WHILE HE DOES SO... IN ANY EVENT, HE IS NO LONGER LOOKING TOWARDS US, OR TOWARDS EDDY AND ANNIE. ANNIE ALMOST LOOKS AS IF SHE'S GOING TO LAUGH AT THE AWKWARDNESS OF THE HANDSOME YOUNG EDDY AS HE GAWPS AT HER OFFERED HAND.
ANNIE: Oh, a YOUNG Mr. S, eh? I didn't KNOW there was a young Mr. S.
ANNIE: Well...
ANNIE: Pleased to make your acquiantance, I'm sure.

(note . I no longer have the script for this chapter and this was copied from the From Hell scripts book by my daughter Erin. A proper name looked out of place and made no sense. Checked the book- wrong there too. I changed it. Apologies for any other typos; I've been over it twice.)

Labels: From hell scripts-2

And so, after multifarious digressions, deviations, tangents and sidesteps, including The Rules of the House and the Invasion of the Geckos, as well as honourings of notable days and landmarks, in a stream of lively impromptus, after fifteen days meandering off-subject, we find ourselves back with Polly Nicholls, as we left her on 19 feb, just about to be murdered in this our sixteenth excerpt from Alan Moore's Scripts for FROM HELL, accompanied by a small file reminder of the page of art that was the final product of the effort. At this point the narrative will dally in a side-street of weird poetics when John Merrick, the Elephant Man, is brought back in view on the page following this one. He is just behind the bush you see at bottom right in the grounds of the London Hospital, not the one that owns to the rights to Peter Pan. However, I cannot guarantee to get on with it any time soon.

CHAPTER 5. PAGE 27. ( 839 words)
PANEL 1.
NOW A SEVEN PANEL PAGE THAT HAS THREE PANELS ON EACH OF THE UPPER TIERS AND THEN ONE BIG WIDE PANEL TAKING UP THE BOTTOM TIER. THIS FIRST SMALL PANEL IS JUST A LONGSHOT OF THE COACH MOVING THROUGH THE DARKNESS OF THE WHITECHAPEL ROAD, NETLEY CROUCHED UPON THE BOX. POLLY’S BALLOONS ISSUE THROUGH THE WINDOW OF THE COACH. THE STREET IS DESERTED.
POLLY (FROM COACH); Ah, well, I didn’t ‘ear no poems there, that next six year.
POLLY (FROM COACH): This April, tried to start afresh. I got a job, in Wandsworth, if you please!

PANEL 2.
PERHAPS NOW WE ARE JUST OUTSIDE THE COACH, IF THAT WORKS VISUALLY, LOOKING THROUGH ONE OF THE SIDE WINDOWS AT POLLY AS SHE GAZES OUT INTO THE NIGHT, HER EYES HEAVY–LIDDED, HER GAZE FIXED ON SOMEPLACE FAR AWAY AND LONG AGO. BEHIND HER WE SEE THE DARK SHAPE OF GULL AS HE SITS BESIDE HER, TURNED TO LOOK AT HER WITH A SORROWING EXPRESSION, EVEN THOUGH SHE IS TURNED AWAY FROM HIM AND LOOKING OUT THE WINDOW AT US.
POLLY: Two month that lasted, ‘fore I ‘ad temptation set upon me path, an ‘ad to leave.
POLLY: I bin in lodgin’ ‘ouses ever since.
GULL: Poor child. Poor Polly...

PANEL 3.
WE HAVE NOW CLOSED IN THROUGH THE WINDOW SO THAT WE ARE INSIDE THE CARRIAGE WITH POLLY AND GULL. POLLY SITS IN PROFILE IN THE FOREGROUND, NOT LOOKING AT GULL AS SHE SPEAKS. SHE LIFTS ONE HAND TO HER TEMPLE AS IF SHE’S FEELING DIZZY, AND CLOSES HER EYES. BEYOND HER, GULL IS STILL LOOKING AT HER WITH GENUINE SORROW AND SYMPATHY. PERHAPS HE HAS EVEN PUT DOWN THE BAG OF GRAPES AND REACHED OUT TO GENTLY TAKE POLLY’S FREE HAND, THE ONE SHE ISN’T HOLDING TO HER BROW.
GULL: What a life you have endured, awaiting nothing but deliverance...
POLLY: Mm. I ... Sir, I feel so queer. Does everything look sparkly to you?

PANEL 4.
WE CONTINUE TO CLOSE IN, SO THAT NOW WE CAN JUST SEE A LITTLE OF POLLY’S FACE OVER TO ONE SIDE OF THE PICTURE, LOOKING AWAY FROM US TOWARDS GULL, HER EXPRESSION DRUGGED AND FAINTLY BEWILDERED. MOSTLY, WE ARE LOOKING PAST HER TO FOCUS ON GULL AS HE SITS BESIDE HER. HE SMILES BROADLY, AND HIS EYES LIGHT UP WITH AN EVANGELICAL FERVOUR. HE HAS THE SELF-POSSESSED, ALMOST MANIC GLOW OF A MISSIONARY WHO IS ABOUT TO SAVE A SOUL. IN THE FOREGROUND, THOUGH HER EYES SEEM PUZZLED, POLLY LAUGHS UNCERTAINLY, UNEASILY, NOT QUITE SURE WHAT GULL MEANS.
GULL: Why, child, that’s just the stars.
GULL: This is a rare and special night, I think. For both of us.
POLLY: Special? Ha ha. Why, sir, what... whatever do you mean?

PANEL 5.
NOW WE CONTINUE TO CLOSE IN UNTIL WE CAN NO LONGER SEE POLLY AT ALL. WE HAVE CLOSED RIGHT IN ON GULL, SO THAT HIS HEAD AND SHOULDERS PRACTICALLY FILL THE ENTIRE PANEL. HE IS TURNED TO FACE TOWARDS US AND THE OFF PANEL POLLY, AND HIS FACE IS ALMOST LUMINOUS WITH RAPTURE AND JOY. HE SMILES, HIS EYES UNBLINKING AND ALMOST WET WITH TEARS OF HAPPINESS. DR. GULL IS STARK BARKING MAD.
GULL: Polly, tonight the stars shine just for us. The Fates have brought us both towards the place, at the appointed time...
GULL: ... whence our names shall go forth together into history.

PANEL 6.
REVERSE ANGLE SO THAT NOW WE SEE GULL IN THE FOREGROUND, IN PROFILE, AS IF WE ARE SITTING BESIDE HIM AND LOOKING PAST HIM TOWARDS POLLY AND THE FAR DOOR. GULL IS NO LONGER LOOKING AT POLLY, BUT HAS TURNED TO GAZE INTO THE EMPTY SPACE BEFORE HIM. HE LAUGHS, EYES ALMOST CLOSED WITH MIRTH, AT WHAT POLLY IS SAYING. LOOKING PAST GULL WE SEE POLLY AS SHE SITS BESIDE HIM, TURNED TO FACE TOWARDS HIM. EVEN THROUGH THE CLOUDS OF DRINK AND LAUDANUM SHE STILL HAS ALOOK OF UNCEFRTAINTY AND UNEASE IN HER EYES AS SHE ATTEMPTS, WITH A NERVOUS LAUGH, TO GROUND THEIR CONVERSTION BY MAKING A JOKE OF WHAT GULL HAS SAID. GULL, FOR HIS PART, SEEMS TO FIND THE JOKE WILDLY APPOSITE AND AMUSING.
POLLY: ha. Why, sir... you make it sound as if we’re to be married. Ha ha ha...
GULL: Ha ha! Why not? A ceremony then... and this time, not a printer’s church!

PANEL 7.
THIS FINAL PANEL IS A BIG WIDE ONE TAKING UP THE BOTTOM TIER. WE ARE NOW INSIDE THE GROUNDS OF THE LONDON HOSPITAL, LOOKING OUT THROUGH THE WROUGHT-IRON RAILINGS ONTO THE WHITECHAPEL ROAD, SO THAT THE RAILINGS ARE ARRANGED IN BARS ACROSS THE FOREGROUND. LOOKING THROUGH THE RAILINGS WE SEE NETLEY’S COACH AS IT PULLS UP ACROSS THE ROAD, WITH NETLEY SHOOTING US A WARY GLANCE AS HE REINS IN HIS HORSES. GULL’S BALLOON ISSUES FROM WITHIN THE COACH, THOUGH NETHER HE NOR POLLY CAN BE SEEN.
GULL (OFF, FROM COACH): Netley? Stop opposite the Hospital.
GULL (OFF, FROM COACH): We’re here.

Labels: From hell scripts-2

I don't usually reveal FROM HELL pages and their scripts for three days running, but I've been in a stew trying to get my annual tax scraps together. It was all wrapped up this morning and I was off to see the accountant, the illustrious Mr Tucker, last seen in his sarong and bare feet, his normal working attire, in The Fate of the Artist. As usual I'm four thousand bucks over in one part, one thousand under in another part, and another part has disappeared altogether. My only excuse is that I was in Chicago in 1899 at the time, working on The Black Diamond Detective Agency.
The upshot of it all is that I don't have time to do much here. This one is the next in sequence as we move inexorably toward the first of the Whitechapel murders. You'll notice however that my pictures for it do not in any way whatsoever follow the framing instructions in Alan Moore's script. I will explain at length my reasons for this in an essay of some length and the product of some serious consideration over many years, hopefully to run in tomorrow's post, titled 'The cinematic principle'.

CHAPTER 5 PAGE 26 ( 1,130 WORDS)
PANEL 1
NOW WE HAVE A NINE PANEL GRID, THE BETTTER TO REPRODUCE THE SLIGHTLY CLAUSTROPHOBIC ATMOSPHERE WITHIN THE COACH. IN THIS FIRST PANEL WE ARE LOOKING THROUGH GULL’S EYES, SO THAT ALL WE CAN SEE OF HIM ARE HIS HANDS AS THEY HOLD OUT THE OPEN BAG OF GRAPES TOWARDS POLLY. LOOKING BEYOND GULL’S HANDS AND THE BAG OF GRAPES WE SEE POLLY AS SHE SITS ON THE SEAT BESIDE US, TURNING TOWARDS US AND REACHING OUT ONE HAND TO DIP INTO THE BAG AND TAKE A GRAPE. SHE SMILES WITH DELIGHT, ALMOST DISBELIEVINGLY.
POLLY: oh, sir, I loves ‘em. Never can afford ‘em, though.
POLLY: Oh, can I really ‘ave one?

PANEL 2
NOW WE REVERSE ANGLES SO THAT IN THE FOREGROUND WE CAN SEE POLLY, SITTING IN PROFILE TO US. SHE HAS HER HEAD TILTED BACK SLIGHTLY AND IS NOT LOOKING AT GULL AS SHE TIPS A COUPLE OF GRAPES INTO HER MOUTH FROM HER UPLIFTED HAND. SHE LOOKS TO BE IN A STATE OF BLISS AT BEING ALLOWED SUCH LUXURY. IMMEDIATELY BEYOND HER GULL SITS TURNED SO THAT HE FACES DIRECTLY AT POLLY AND US. (I SHOULD HAVE MENTIONED, INCIDENTALLY, THAT HE HAS TAKEN OFF HIS HAT ON ENTERING THE COACH.) HE SMILES QUIETLY AND WARMLY AT POLLY AS HE SPEAKS TO HER.
GULL: Dear Polly, have as many as you wish.
GULL: Now come, child. Tell me all about yourself. Where were you born?

PANEL 3
NOW A SHOT FROM THE OTHER SIDE OF THE COACH, SO THAT WE ARE LOOKING FACE-ON AT POLLY AND GULL, BOTH FULL FIGURE, AS THEY SIT THERE SIDE BY SIDE ON THE SEAT OPPOSITE TO US. WIPING GRAPE JUICE FROM HER LIPS, POLLY LOOKS MOMENTARILY TAKEN ABACK, ALBEIT IN A PLEASANT WAY. SHE LOOKS AT GULL WITH A SURPRISED AND GRATEFUL SMILE THAT IS SOMEHOW POIGNANT. GULL RETURNS HER SMILE WITH A QUIET, GENUINELY WARM SMILE OF HIS OWN, GAZING INTO HER EYES. THE GLADSTONE BAG RESTS BY POLLY’S FEET.
POLLY: Well...nmg... excuse me...
POLLY: Well, sir, I hardly knows where I should start. It’s not often anybody shows an interest.
POLLY: I were born in Shoe lane.

PANEL 4
HERE WE CLOSE IN FROM OUR LAST PANEL. SO THAT WE CAN ONLY SEE POLLY SITTING CLOSE THERE WITH THE WINDOW BESIDE HER, THE DARKNESS OF WHITECHAPLE CRAWLING BY OUTSIDE. SHE IS LOOKING TOWARDS GULL, WHOSE HAND ENTERS THE PANEL FROM OFF TO ONE SIDE, HOLDING OUT THE BAG OF GRAPES. POLLY LOOKS INTO HIS OFF- PANEL EYES AS SHE REACHES OUT AND DIPS INTO THE BAG FOR ANOTHER GRAPE. AS SHE ROCKS UNSTEADILY FROM SIDE TO SIDE WITH THE MOTION OF THE COACH, HER BLACK BONNET HAS SLIPPED DOWN SLIGHTLY TO ONE SIDE, SO THAT IT RESTS AT A SLIGHTLY ODD ANGLE, BUT IT IS STILL FASTENED WITH A BOW BENEATH HER CHIN. AS SHE REACHES FOR A GRAPE, HER WEDDING RING GLEAMS DULLY UPON HER FINGER.
POLLY: That’s off Fleet Street. 1851 it was, ‘cause I remember bein’ took to see the exhibition.
POLLY: Another grape? Ooh, can I really, sir?

PANEL 5
NOW POLLY IS IN PROFILE IN THE FOREGROUND AS SHE PUTS THE GRAPES INTO HE STARVING MOUTH, NOT LOOKING AT GULL AS SHE DOES SO. POLLY IS ROUGHLY HEAD AND SHOULDERS TO HALF FIGURE AS WE SEE HER HERE. LOOKING BEYOND HER WE SEE GULL AS HE SITS BESIDE HER, TURNED ROUND SO AS TO GAZE AT BOTH POLLY AND US. HIS FACE LOOKS GENUINELY PAINED AND SYMPATHETIC AS HE GAZES AT HER, HIS GRAPES STILL HELD IN ONE HAND. AS SHE RECOUNTS HER TALE, POLLY’S FACE IS MORE OR LESS EXPRESSIONLESS. SHE DOES NOT SEEM TO SEE IT AS AN OCCASION FOR SELF PITY.
POLLY: Anyway... mmp... me dad, ’e were a blacksmith. ’ad me married off by ’64.
GULL: When you were... let me see... Good Lord! When you were but thirteen?

PANEL 6
NOW WE REVERSE ANGLES SO THAT WE ARE LOOKING AT POLLY THROUGH GULL’S EYES, AND ALL WE CAN SEE OF GULL HIMSELF ARE HIS HANDS, HOLDING THE BAG OF GRAPES. MOSTLY, WE ARE LOOKING JUST PAST THIS TO FOCUS ON POLLY AS SHE SITS THERE IN PROFILE TO US, NOT LOOKING AT US AS SHE SPEAKS. SHE STARES INTO SPACE, TOYING ABSENTMINDEDLY WITH HER WEDDING RING AS SHE DOES SO, SEEMINGLY UNAWARE OF THE GESTURE. IF WE CAN SEE THEM, HER PUPILS ARE VERY TINY, AND HER GENERAL MANNER IS ONE OF ENTRANCEMENT. THE LAUDANUNM IS STARTING TO TAKE EFFECT. POLLY SWAYS SLIGHTLY, A CHILDLIKE EXPRESSION SUFFUSING HER FACE AS SHE REMEMBERS THE SNOW FALLING SLOWLY DURING HER WEDDING AT THE PRINTERS’ CHAPEL. SHE SPEAKS SOFTLY, AS IF IN A DREAM.
POLLY: Aye. To a printer, Billy Nicholls. We was married in the printers’ church, St. Bride’s
POLLY: ...an it were winter. Snowin’. Little flakes, caught in me ‘air.

PANEL 7
NOW WE HAVE A SIMILAR SHPOT TO THAT IN PANEL THREE, IN THAT WE ARE LOOKING ACROSS THE CARRIAGE AT GULL AND POLLY AS THEY SIT SIDE BY SIDE ON THE OPPOSITE SEAT, BOTH SEEN THREE QUARTER TO FULL FIGURE HERE. POLLY IS NOT LOOKING AT GULL, BUT JUST GAZING DAZEDLY INTO SPACE, LOOKING IN OUR GENERAL DIRECTION, BUT CLEARLY NOT FOCUSSED ON ANYTHING. BESIDE HER, GULL IS STILL SITTING HALF TURNED TO FACE TOWARDS HER. HE HOLDS OUT HIS BAG OF GRAPES TOWARDS HER WITH AN EXPRESSION OF DEEP AND HEARTFELT SYMPATHY THAT SEEMS TO BE SINCERE.
POLLY: we went to live in Stamford street. Two children. Second one, my Billy, ‘e runs off like, with the midwife.
POLLY: Just runs off.
GULL: Poor child. Do have another grape.

PANEL 8
NOW WE ARE LOOKING THROUGH GULL’S EYES AT THE DAZED –LOOKING POLLY AS SHE TURNS TOWARDS US AND TAKES ANOTHER DRUGGED GRAPE FORM THE BAG. HER EYELIDS ARE STARTING TO LOOK HEAVIER OVER HER PIN-PRICK PUPILS, AND HER EXPRESSION IS SORT OF SLACK AS SHE REACHES OUT AND TAKES ANOTHER GRAPE FROM THE BAG. ALL WE CAN SEE OF GULL IS ONE HAND, HOLDING OUT THE BAG TOWARDS POLLY. BEHIND HER, THROUGH THE WINDOW, THE WHITECHAPEL DARKNESS CRAWLS BY.
POLLY: Why... why., thank you, sIr. You’re...
POLLY: You’re very kind.
GULL: Think nothing of it, child. Come now, continue with your narrrative. Your husband left you...

PANEL 9
NOW A SHOT OF THE CLOSED GLADSTONE BAG AS IT RESTS THERE BETWEEN POLLY’S FEET AND THE CARRIAGE DOOR. BOTH POLLY AND GULL’S BALLOONS ISSUE FROM OFF PANEL IN THE APPROPRIATE DIRECTIONS. THE BLACK LEATHER BAG HAS A DULL GLEAM IN THE SICKLY LIGHT OF THE CARRIAGE.
POLLY: (OFF) : Yes,. Yes, ‘e did. I went to Lambeth Workhouse...
GULL (OFF): Lambeth, indeed? A famous poet lived there once, you know...

Labels: From hell scripts-2

The tension mounts as we arrive at the first of the Whitechapel murders, as depicted in FROM HELL, this being from Alan Moore's scripts for the book. It wasn't the first incidence of serious crisis in the story, of course. Alan constructed the work so that each chapter climaxed with one. In Chapter One it was the the abduction in broad daylight of Annie Crook; in Two she was forced to undergo a lobotomy; in Three the blackmail letter to the royal family is delivered. In Four Gull's insane mission is launched and Netley vomits at the realzation of what it is probably going to entail. The narrative has been on a resolute march to Hell since page 1. Alan's script for the final panel on this page was possibly his shortest picture description in the entire book, but I knew what this low angle view of the carriage had to clearly say: this is where the horror begins.

CHAPTER 5. PAGE 25 ( 943 WORDS)
PANEL 1
ANOTHER SEVEN PANEL PAGE, AGAIN WITH THE BIG WIDE PANEL TAKING UP THE BOTTOM TIER AND THREE SMALLER PANELS ON EACH OF THE TIERS ABOVE THAT. IN THIS FIRST SMALL PANEL WE ARE CROUCHING BEHIND POLLY ON THE PAVEMENT, ABOUT WAIST HEIGHT, AND LOOKING UP PAST HER. ALL WE CAN SEE OF HER IS SOME OF HER MID-SECTION OVER TO THE RIGHT OF THE FOREGROUND, HER HANDS CLASPED NERVOUSLY IN FRONT OF HER AS SHE STANDS THERE LOOKING UP AT THE COACH. LOOKING UP PAST HER AT THE COACH, WE CAN SEE GULL AS HE TURNS TOWARDS US AND LOOKS DOWN WITH A FATHERLY SMILE AND A TWINKLE IN HIS EYES. HE TOUCHES THE BRIM OF HIS HAT IN GREETING. BEYOND HIM, NETLEY IS ONLY VISIBLE AS A DARK SHAPE, HUNCHED OVER THE REINS.
GULL: Good morning to you, my child.
GULL: Why, three o’clock’s no time for a young lady such as yourself to be out unescorted. Might I offer transport?

PANEL 2
NOW A SHOT LOOKING DOWN AT POLLY FROM GULL’S POINT OF VIEW AS SHE STANDS THERE IN THE STREET LOOKING UP AT US, A FORLORN AND ISOLATED FIGURE, LIT ONLY BY THE WEAK GLOW FROM THE CARRIAGE LAMP. IN THE FOREGROUND WE CAN PERHAPS SEE GULL’S HANDS, QUIETLY HOLDING HIS OPEN BAG OF GRAPES. POLLY LOOKS GRATEFUL AND RELIEVED AS SHE GAZES UP AT US, AND OFFERS US A WEAK SMILE BY WAY OF A THANK-YOU. SHE’S STILL WEARING HER BLACK BONNET, FASTENED UNDER HER CHIN IN A BOW, AND I SHOULD ALSO POINT OUT THAT DURING THIS ENTIRE EPISODE, WHENEVER WE SEE POLLY’S HANDS IN CLOSE UP, WE SHOULD MAKE SURE TO SHOW THE RING THAT WE FIRST SHOWED IN PANEL FOUR OF PAGE ELEVEN. JUST A SMALL CONTINUITY POINT WHICH YOU SHOULD APPLY WHERE APPROPRIATE, IF ANYWHERE. HERE, POLLY LOOKS UP AT US AND GIVES US A WAN SMILE. THE BREEZE RUSTLES THE PAPER BAG IN GULL’S LAP. THE GRAPES HAVE A PALE AND SICKLY GLEAM.
POLLY: Why... why, thank you, sir. You’re very kind.
POLLY: I’d surely feel safer with you than out ‘ere in the street. You ‘ear so many stories.

PANEL 3
NOW WE PULL BACK A LITTLE FROM THE COACH, SO THAT WE SEE THE FRONT END OF IT, INCLUDING THE HORSES, IN THE MID-BACKGROUND HERE. AS WE SEE HIM HERE, GULL IS JUST CLIMBING DOWN FROM THE COACH, HEFTING HIS GLADSTONE BAG WITH HIM AS HE DOES SO. HE IS ALSO PRESUMABLY STILL HOLDING THE GRAPES, ASSUMING THAT CAN BE DONE IN SUCH A WAY TO LEAVE HIM A FREE HAND TO HOLD THE COACH AS HE DESCENDS. PERHAPS HE’S STUFFED THEM INTO HIS POCKET OR SOMETHING. POLLY STANDS RESPECTFULLY BY AS SHE WAITS FOR HIM TO CLIMB DOWN. NETLEY JUST SITS AND PAYS NO ATTENTION TO THE PROCEEDINGS, STARING AWAY INTO THE DARK ACROSS HIS REINS. GULL IS SMILING AS HE CLIMBS DOWN, A JOVIAL AND BURLY UNCLE. POLLY STIULL WEARS A FAINT SMILE DESPITE HERSELF, CHARMED BY THIS GENIAL OLD TOFF.
GULL: Splendid! Then let me just climb down, that we may ride together, both inside.
GULL: Tell me, what is your name?

PANEL 4
GULL IS NOW STANDING IN THE STEREET LEVEL BESIDE POLLY. POLLY HAS TAKEN THE LIBERTY OF OPENING THE COACH DOOR, READY FOR THEM. BUT LIKE A WELL BROUGHT UP YOUNG WOMAN, SHE IS RESPECTFUL OF HER ELDERS AND BETTERS. AND REACHES OUT WITH HER FREE HAND TO RELIEVE GULL OF HIS HEAVY GLADSTONE BAG. HE GIVES HER A WARM SMILE OF GRATITUDE AS HE LETS HER TAKE IT FROM HIM. SHE GIVES HIM A DAUGHTERLY AND AFFECTIONATE SMILE IN RETURN.
POLLY: It’s Mary, though they calls me Polly.
POLLY: Oh, do let me ‘elp you with that bag. It looks so ‘eavy.
GULL: Ah. Thank you. Set it by the door.

PANEL 5
NOW WE ARE WITHIN THE COACH WITH POLLY, WHO HAS CLIMBED INSIDE AND IS IN THE ACT OF SETTING DOWN THE HEAVY GLADSTONE BAG BY THE OPPOSITE DOOR. LIT BY THE SICK YELLOW GLOW OF THE CARRIAGE LAMP, AN INSECT IN AMBER. LOOKING BEYOND HER AND THROUGH THE OPEN DOOR BEHIND HER WE SEE GULL, ALSO FACING US, AS HE STARTS TO CLAMBER ABOARD THE COACH, HOLDING THE BAG OF GRAPES IN ONE HAND. HE SMILES WARMLY AT HER TURNED BACK, WITH NO GLINT OF THE SARDONIC IN HIS EYES. GULL GENUINELY SEEMS TO BE SHOWING NOTHING BUT FATHERLY AFFECTION TOWARDS THIS YOUNG WOMAN.
POLLY: There, there, that’s better.
POLLY: Now, let’s be introduced all proper, like. I’m Polly, sir, and you, you’re...?

PANEL 6
NOW WE ARE LOOKING AT GULL THROUGH POLLY’S EYES AS HE TAKES HIS SEAT BESIDE HER IN THE CARRIAGE. WE CANNOT SEE HER. ALL WE SEE IS HER VIEW OF HIM AS HE SITS THERE, THREE QUARTER FIGURE, AND TURNS TOWARDS US. HE SMILES, A SMILE OF ALMOST BOYISH PLEASURE AND SATISFACTION. HE’S NOT SIR WILLIAM NOW, OR EVEN DOCTOR GULL. HE’S JUST THE LITTLE BARGE BOY ONCE AGAIN, WHO PLAYED AMONGST THE FLOWERS THERE AT THE RECTORY; WHO MOVED THROUGH TUNNELS SLOWLY INTO LIGHT.
GULL: William.
GULL: My name’s William.

PANEL 7
IN THIS FINAL WIDE PANEL WE ARE LOOKING AT THE COACH. THE DOORS ARE CLOSED, AND AS NETLEY SNAPS THE REINS, IT RESUMES MOTION, TRUNDLING SLOWLY OVER THE COBBLES FROM A DEAD START. A PALE HOSPITAL LIGHT SEEPS FROM THE WINDOWS OF THE COACH, DIFFUSING INTO DARK. GULL’S BALLOON ISSUES FROM THE NEAREST WINDOW AS THE COACH TRUNDLES AWAY.
GULL (OFF, FROM WINDOW): Now, tell me, child...
GULL (OFF, FROM WINDOW): Do you like grapes?

Labels: From hell scripts-2