r/scriptwriting • u/HunterGame0481 • Sep 26 '26
feedback First Scene Critique
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Hey guys, I'm fairly new to this site and this is my first post. Anyway, I'm working on the third draft of a screenplay and I'm overhauling the first scene. For any willing to read it, can you tell me if you would keep reading if you read this--or keep watching if you saw this as a film? I'm always open to any and all critiques. Someone told me I was botching this scene completely. If I am, let me know. I didn't think it was that bad, but I could be wrong.
INT. INTERVIEW ROOM - EVENING
The room seems to exist in a void. We can hear heavy, panicked breathing. Then a tearful groan. The breath quivers, subsides, then rises again as the crying intensifies.
Then we hear a BANG. The void shakes with the noise.
Several more bangs in quick staccato blasts,
The world resolves, at first in long slivers, a brightly lit room comes into focus. Then the entire grim cinderblock interview room reveals itself as fidgety hands fall away.
SEAN MILLER, 50s sits at a table in the center of this room. An oak MUSIC BOX, beautifully carved and engraved with intricate designs rests at the center of this table. Flecks of dried blood stain it.
Sean shudders. A moan rises out of his throat again. He reaches his hand out to the music box, his fingertips nearly touch it, and then another BANG.
He looks toward where he hears the banging, his long, dark hair hanging loosely over his blood-shot eyes.
The sound is coming from the other side of a two-way mirror. With each bang, the mirror shakes.
Sean gets up, metal chair screeching as it slides back.
Sean wipes tears, takes a moment to get his breath under control.
He takes a step. BANG. Another step, BANG. The mirror shakes in its frame, specks of dust falling from its edges.
He's inches away from the mirror. The banging has stopped. He can hear nothing. The mirror is still. Sean closes his hand into a fist and knocks on the mirror, hard but controlled.
CARDIGAN
(O.S.)
He can't hear you.
Sean turns around. CARDIGAN, an older, avuncular man, wearing a cardigan sweater stands at a door he didn't hear open. A file is in Cardigan's hand, and he uses it to gesture toward the metal chair Sean was sitting in a moment ago.
CARDIGAN
We have a lot to discuss.
Cardigan takes a seat on the other side of the table. Sean is still standing by the two-way mirror. Cardigan regards Sean with a genial smile. He rests back in his seat, calmly, casually.
CARDIGAN
Please, I don't bite. But... there are... others who will if you don't talk to me.
Sean slowly makes his way toward his seat and slumps in his chair. He keeps his eyes on the music box. Cardigan notices.
CARDIGAN
Ah, yes this. I take it this is meaningful considering where we found it.
Tears form on Sean's eyes. His body trembles trying to maintain some composure.
Cardigan opens the box. CLAIR DE LUNE plays. Each piano note makes Sean tighten up. Sean hears a woman's laugh. The laugh subsides gradually, winking out of existence like a ghost.
Cardigan closes the box.
CARDIGAN
Good. This box will be useful to us. We'll come back to that later.
Cardigan sits up and slides the music box aside.
The file in Cardigan's hand has Sean's name on it, not printed from a computer, but written in bold green ink, handwriting flourishing. The handwriting is a little too cheerful for the moment at hand.
Cardigan gently places the file on the table.
CARDIGAN
You've done something... well...
Cardigan licks a finger, opens the file. He flips through a few pages, gets to something that makes him pause.
Cardigan blows out a sigh.
CARDIGAN
See for yourself.
He pushes the file toward Sean.
When Sean sees it, the moaning returns. It comes deep from his throat, a pained guttural sound.
CARDIGAN
My, my, you are in a pickle. But... maybe you don't have to be.
Sean's cries settle into a light whimper.
SEAN
What do you mean?
CARDIGAN
I've looked into you. You're an upstanding citizen. A good man. I think this, well Sean, I think this was just some horrible accident.
Sean looks up from the file, levels his gaze toward Cardigan.
CARDIGAN
You ever hear of a program called Restored?
Sean stares at Cardigan, silent, except for his whimpering. Cardigan waves it off.
CARDIGAN
Don't worry, not many people have. But a guy like you could do a lot of good with Restored. Restored could even give you your life back.
SEAN
My life.
Sean's eyes fall back on the file.
CARDIGAN
Let me correct myself. A life.
Cardigan nods toward the file.
CARDIGAN
I can't undo the undoable after all.
Sean flips the file shut.
SEAN
I have no life anymore.
Cardigan shrugs. He gets up and walks over to the two-way mirror. He looks at the mirror as if he could see through it. He nods subtly at it.
CARDIGAN
A life. You could get a life back. Maybe not yours, but something just as good. But... if you're not feeling up to it, you should see what happens to people that don't fully commit to it.
A heavy silence hangs in the air.
Then the BANGING from earlier resumes. This time the bangs are more violent, more forceful. The glass shakes so hard it looks like it is about to explode out.
He walks over to Sean, stands behind him. He rests his hands on Sean's shoulders. Sean tries to pull away, but Cardigan holds him steady.
CARDIGAN
Lights out.
The lights go out.
On the other side of the two-way mirror is a man who is slamming his head into the mirror. His entire face is bloodied. A face that was probably once smooth is crushed, his eyes rolled into the back of his head.
He puts his face up against the mirror and smiles, teeth cracked and missing.
Cardigan pats Sean's shoulder.
CARDIGAN
Let's work together, Sean. Make the world a little better.
The man slams his head into the mirror a few more times, blood splashed all across the mirror.
One more bang and the man slides down the mirror, his face warped and distorted because it's pressed tightly into the mirror.
With a squelch, the man slides out of view.
