クラウドファンディングに関する経過ご報告
2023年3月
過日のクラウドファンディングでは皆様の温かいご支援をいただき、心より感謝申し上げます。ありがとうございました。
引き続き『THE WALL : The Refugee's Path to a New Republic』(Museyon Books、日本語版『紅い砂』幻冬舎刊)の映像化に向けて鋭意努力しています。
1,日本国内での出版(『紅い砂』幻冬舎刊)
2,アメリカでの英語出版(『THE WALL : The Refugee's Path to a New Republic』Museyon Books)
3,ティーザー映像の完成(日本語/長短2バージョン)
4,ティーザー映像の完成(英語/長短2バージョン)
5,企画Paperの制作
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日本語ティーザーPV 1:40 バージョン
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English Teaser PV 1:40 version
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English Teaser PV 1:00 version
☆
5,シナリオ(第一稿ドラフト)の完成(日本語)
6,シナリオ(第一稿ドラフト)の完成(英語)
現状このように進めております。
米国での映画関係者への企画プッシュを行っておりますが、なかなか難しい状況です。しかし諦めることなく、シナリオをさらにブラッシュアップしつつ、売り込みを続けます。
(シナリオはメンバー限定で公開いたします)
長らくエンターテインメント業界に大きな影響を与えたコロナ禍も解消に向かい、この道のりも明るい希望が待っていると信じています。
今後も動きを告知いたします。もし皆様にも関係するお知り合いなどおられましたら、ご協力をいただければと思います。一緒に動いてくれる方がいれば大歓迎です。ご指導ご鞭撻をいただければ幸いです。
まだ実現のお知らせができないのは心苦しい限りですが、引き続き皆様のご期待を胸に頑張ります。新たな動きがあり次第、ご報告いたします。よろしくお願いいたします。
"THE WALL" by Ted Takashima のホームページはこちらです
シナリオ(日本語)
[ 1 ]ウォールの上空 早朝
マスコミのヘリが数機飛び、緊迫した状況。その中の一機。
女性キャスター 〈コルドバからの難民がウォールに押し寄せています。祖国をひと月前に出て、三千キロを歩いてきた人たちです。子供、女性、老人も多くいます。最初千人余りの集団だったキャラバンが今や五千人を超えていると思われます〉
[ 2 ]同
ヘリの高度が下がる。ウォール前は中東の難民キャンプのような光景が広がっている。アメリカ側には塹壕が掘られ、若い兵士たちが銃を構えている。指揮官はコール・グリーン大尉。
女性キャスター 〈コルドバは現在、ホセ大統領の独裁政府と麻薬組織サンペドロにより内戦状態で、難民となって国を出る者が後を絶ちません。合衆国大統領は軍隊を派遣して、入国を阻止しようとしています〉
[ 3 ]ウォール周辺 アメリカ側
巨大な杭を等間隔に打ち付けたウォールの隙間から、メキシコ側が見える。陽が昇り始める。
女性キャスター 〈キャラバンの先頭が国境に到達して三日になります。今日にもウォールを越えてアメリカ側に入ってくるという情報が流れています〉
難民が壁に取り付き、のぼり始める。兵士たちが難民に向かって銃を構える。
コール 「引き金から指を外せ。落ち着くんだ」
[ 4 ]ウォールの上空
壁に取り付いた難民たちが次第に数を増し、壁を護る兵士の数十倍に膨れ上がる。
女性キャスター 〈キャラバンの先頭集団が壁に取り付きました。続々と登ってきます〉
[ 5 ]ウォール周辺 アメリカ側 メキシコ側
後方から難民の多くが壁に向かって走り出す。
コール 「全員、マスクをしろ。催涙ガス!」
コールが言い終わらないうちに一発の銃声が響く。一瞬の静寂。
兵士たちの銃撃が始まる。逃げ惑う難民たち。
コール 「撃ち方止め。射撃を中止しろ」
コールは兵士たちの背後で空に向けて拳銃を撃つ。銃撃が止む。
女性キャスター 〈ああ、神さま!〉
壁の前には数百人の死傷者が倒れている。あちらこちらで泣き声、呻き声、悲鳴。
[ 6 」ウォール周辺
難民の一人、へルナンデスが五歳の娘を高く差し上げている。娘は頭を撃ち抜かれている。
ヘルナンデス 「(泣きながら)娘はアメリカに殺された。俺は復讐を誓う」
足元には妻が胸と腹から血を流して横たわっている。
[ 7 ]ウォール アメリカ側
静まり返り、全アメリカ兵がウォール前の光景を茫然と見つめる。涙を流す者もいる。
コール「……」
[ 8 ] ホワイトハウス 大統領執務室
テイラー大統領が在室。補佐官が飛び込んできてテレビをつける。銃声が響き渡り、ウォール前の映像が画面に出る。
テイラー 「何だ、これは」
補佐官 「ウォールからの中継です」
女性キャスター 〈ああ、神さま! ひどい……何十人、いえ、何百人も倒れている。これが、合衆国軍のしたことなの?〉
テイラー 「誰が命じた? いや、どっちが先に発砲したんだ」
テイラー、ふと気配を感じてドアのほうを見る。半開きのドアの前にパトリシアが立ってテレビ画面を見ている。
テイラー 「パパの仕事場には来ちゃいけない、パトリシア」
パトリシアがテイラーを見る。その目に浮かんでいた恐怖が怒りに変わる。
パトリシア「パパなんて大嫌い!」
パトリシアが走り去る。呆然と見送るテイラー。
[ 9 ]軍裁判所前
コールがスチアートとともに出てくる。待ち受けるマスコミ。
男性レポーター 「死者八十五人、負傷者三百五十八人、〈ウォールの悲劇〉は、アメリカ陸軍史上、大きな汚点を残しました。〈ウォールの虐殺者〉、コール大尉はたった今アメリカ合衆国陸軍を不名誉除隊となりました」
マイクとカメラが迫るのをスチアートがかばうようにしてコールを車に乗せる。
[ 10 」ホワイトハウス 大統領執務室
テレビ画面。ホセ大統領が執務室から演説している。
ホセ 「コルドバ国民よ、国を逃げるな。アメリカに殺される。祖国はここしかない」
テイラー大統領がテレビを消す。補佐官がリモコンを受け取る。
補佐官 「これでコルドバからのキャラバン問題は解決です」
テイラー 「私の支持率の回復も見込めるな。だが、パトリシアがいまだ口をきいてくれない」
補佐官 「お嬢さんに政治はお分かりになりませんよ」
テイラー 「コール大尉……彼にも家族がいるだろうに」
補佐官 「さ、次のご予定があります。鉄鋼連盟の代表と面会ですよ」
補佐官にせかされてテイラーはドアに向かう。
シナリオの全編(日本語)を読むには、こちらをクリックしてください。
英語版シナリオは翻訳を終え、ブラッシュアップ中です。
Scenario
[1] Flying over the wall early in the morning
The situation where several press helicopters flew and became tense. One of them.
Female caster <The refugees from Cordoba are rushing to the wall. Those who have left their homeland a month ago and walked for 3000km. There are many children, women and old people. The caravan, which was a group of about a thousand people at first, seems to exceed five thousand now>
[2] same
The height of the helicopter goes down. In front of the wall is a scene like a refugee camp in the Middle East. A coffin has been dug on the American side, and young soldiers are holding guns. The commander was Captain Cole Green.
Female Caster <Cordoba is now in a civil war situation with the dictatorship of President Jose and the drug organization San Pedro, and those who leave the country as refugees will not stop. The President of the United States has dispatched troops to prevent entry
[3] Wall side around the wall
The Mexican side can be seen from the gap of the wall that is struck with huge piles at equal intervals. The sun starts to rise.
Female caster <The head of the caravan reaches the border and it will be three days. Information is flowing today that it will cross the wall and enter the American side>
Refugees cling to the wall and start climbing. Soldiers hold guns against the refugees.
Cole "Remove your finger from the trigger. You settle down."
[4] Over the Wall
The number of refugees attached to the wall is gradually increasing, and tens of times the number of soldiers protecting the wall.
Female caster <The leading group of caravans attached to the wall. Coming up one after another〉
[5] Wall side America side Mexico side
Many of the refugees run from the back towards the wall.
Cole "Everyone wear a mask. Tear gas!"
A gunshot resounds before the call is finished. A moment of silence.
The shooting of the soldiers begins. Refugees fleeing.
Call "Stop shooting. Stop shooting."
Cole shoots a handgun towards the sky behind the soldiers. The shooting stops.
Female caster <Oh God! 〉
Hundreds of casualties have fallen in front of the wall. Crying, roaring, screams everywhere.
[6] Around the wall
One of the refugees, Fernandes, is giving a five-year-old daughter high. My daughter is shot through her head.
Fernandes "(crying) my daughter was killed by America. I swear revenge"
At the feet my wife is lying with blood from her chest and belly.
[7] Wall American side
It calms down, and all American soldiers stare at the scene in front of the wall. Some tears.
call"……"
[ 8 ] White House Presidential Office
President Taylor is in the room. An assistant jumps in and turns on the television. The gunshot echoed, and the image in front of the wall appeared on the screen.
Taylor "What, this is"
Assistant: "Relaying from the wall"
Female caster <Oh God! Awful ... dozens, no, hundreds of people have fallen. Is this what the US military did? 〉
Taylor "Who ordered? No, which one fired first"
Taylor, I felt a sign and looked at the door. Patricia stands in front of the half-opened door and is watching the TV screen.
Taylor "Don't come to Papa's office, Patricia"
Patricia sees Taylor. The fear she had in her eyes turns into anger.
Patricia "I hate dad!"
Patricia runs away. Taylor who sees stunnedly.
[9] In front of the military court
Cole comes out with Stuart. The mass media to wait for.
Male reporter "The dead eighty five, the injured three hundred fifty-eight, The Wall Tragedy" left a large black mark in the history of the United States Army. <The wall slaughterer>, Captain Cole has just made the United States Army. It became a disqualifying expedition "
I'll put the call on the car, with Stuart covering the microphone and camera approaching.
[10] White House Presidential Office
TV screen. President Jose is speaking from the office.
Jose "Do not flee the country, Córdoba nationals. Killed by the United States. There is only one homeland here."
President Taylor turns off the television. An assistant receives the remote control.
Assistant: "This solves the caravan problem from Córdoba"
Taylor "I can expect a recovery in my ratings, but Patricia still hasn't heard."
Assistant: "I can not understand politics to my grandmother."
Taylor "Lee Cole ... he will have a family too"
Assistant: "There are plans for the next time. We will meet with representatives of the Iron and Steel Federation."
With the help of an assistant, Taylor headed for the door.
高嶋哲夫オフィシャルページ
PROLOGUE
Day was just beginning to break.
The desert sands were stained red, like a sea of blood. Hidden
within stood an assemblage of over five thousand individuals. Through the radio one Army man held to his ear, a female reporter’s voice continued describing the situation in breathless tones: “A week has passed since the caravan has set up their campsite. They have applied for asylum with the US government, but have yet to receive any reply, and are clearly reaching the end of their ropes. As we speak, reports keep coming in of refugees climbing over the wall to reach the
States. America, and the world, continue to watch closely.”
At that moment, close to ten media helicopters were flitting about,
the air as intensely charged as ever.
The partition at the border between America and Mexico, dubbed
“The Wall,” stood nearly twenty-three feet high and spanned dozens of miles, with steel piles (nearly four inches in height and just over one inch in thickness) placed at around six-inch intervals.
“ . . . Citizens of the Central American country of Cordova are fleeing the dictatorship of President Gumersindo Cortázar, as well as the brutality of José Moreno and his narcotics cartel, Los Eternos, with no end in sight for the mass exodus. Over ten thousand have fled this year alone, and that figure will only increase. In response to overwhelming pressure from America’s far right, US President Robert Copeland is refusing to allow them entry. Troops have been dispatched in order to prevent them from setting foot on American soil . . .”
The copters overhead dipped lower.
US Army Captain Jadon Green, commander of the troops guarding The Wall, set the radio away from his ear and raised the volume. The tension was excruciating; the young men of arms were teetering on the brink. One faint spark could be all it took to light the powder keg.
Gazing ahead, they could see the expanse of the Mexican desert between The Wall’s giant steel piles. The scene on the ground was reminiscent of a Middle Eastern refugee camp, with countless tents large and small. The asylum seekers had already been eking out a life there for a week, and their numbers were growing.
What Jadon had seen in Turkey flashed to mind. The camps of Syrian refugees fleeing the Islamic State. The folks whose hopes for the future had all been swallowed by starvation and fear. The crude tents lined up on the low ground. The all-but-barefoot children begging for food, even amidst the mud on rainy days and nights. Occasionally, the residents of the site would flock to some United Nations or private charity truck carrying relief supplies. The only purpose driving the displaced was to survive another day.
The reporter’s voice jolted Jadon out of his train of thought: “ . . . Refugees are surging closer and closer toward the border, having walked around 2,500 miles since leaving their home country of Cordova one month prior. Many of them are women and children, and many are elderly. Originally, what they’re calling the caravan numbered a little more than a thousand, but its ranks swelled when they were joined by Mexican migrants, and now they’re thought to exceed the five thousand mark. Meanwhile, five hundred American soldiers are stationed to face them. The soldiers have their firearms at the ready, yet the refugees continue to advance toward the wall at the border with no sign of being cowed . . .”
As the dawn encroached, a heavy, rumbling moan rose from the distance as the stark shadows were stretching at the red sands’ horizon. An altogether new band of refugees that had marched throughout the night was approaching. Soon enough, they’d drawn close enough for the soldiers to ascertain their individual appearances.
The nervous energy seizing the soldiers grew yet more potent. They once again pointed their guns.
“Fingers off your triggers, soldiers,” said Jadon. “We’re just trying to scare them. Remember, they’re not armed. No harm will come to you, so calm down.” It did serve to soothe some nerves for the time being, but how long would he be able to keep that up?
The crowd, which was dyed as red as the desert, kept closing the distance toward The Wall, planting fear into the young soldiers’ hearts. Before they knew it, the refugees who they thought were still asleep had gotten onto their feet too. In a blink, the scarlet sunlight from beyond the dunes had given way, and a great throng was flooding the other side of The Wall.
Several men ran up to the partition and began climbing. The number of refugees sticking by The Wall kept increasing, until they outnumbered the soldiers many times over. They held ladders and ropes with grappling hooks by the plenty.
“The people at the head of the Caravan are advancing up The Wall,” stated the radio excitedly.
“Masks on, soldiers,” said Jadon. “Use the tear gas.”
At his orders, dozens of tear-gas bombs were launched. Angry roars came flying, but the refugees were not deterred. Instead, they ran toward The Wall, clinging to it in their thousands and setting upon the ascent. The soldiers defending The Wall were ready to defend their country, while hoping it would not come to a confrontation.
Then, a gunshot pierced the air. Every soul stopped in its tracks. The only commotion, the whir of the copters. Yet before the ringing of the first shot had even gone, it was joined by a whole host of automatic weapons. The gunfight was now underway.
“Hold your fire. That’s an order!” screamed Jadon, but his voice was drowned out by an unholy combination of wrathful bellowing, anguished cries, and bullets unrelenting.
The soldiers were flustered, and in the confusion, all too many just kept firing. The refugees were beating panicked retreats now, but the hail of bullets felled women and children without mercy.
“Stop! Stop firing!”
Behind the soldiers, Jadon fired a handgun into the sky. Just like that, the storm ceased.
Firearms still hot in their grips, the soldiers gaped dumbfounded. It seemed they’d returned to sanity.
It had taken a little over ten minutes for the Mexican side of The Wall to be drenched in the blood of the hundreds who now lay prone on the grit. Everywhere there was weeping, moaning, shrieking. One of the cries rang out over the din; a man raised an infant girl up for the sentries to see. Blood was dripping from her head, tinging the man’s own head in red.
“America’s killed my wife and daughter,” he cried. “They are the devil. I will have my revenge. I will kill you all.”
A woman was crumpled at his feet, bleeding from the chest and abdomen. Jadon could only stare in disbelief.
Meanwhile, at the Oval Office . . .
President Copeland was looking over the script of a speech he’d be reciting at a dinner party to which the UK ambassador was invited. Would it be a bit gauche to add a joke about how leaving the EU would definitely solve the immigration and refugee problem?
That was when Chief of Staff Albert Campbell barged in, passing by the president’s desk without a word to turn on the TV.
“What the . . .” the president found himself murmuring. Then, he turned pale.
“It’s the bit of The Wall 12 miles east of El Paso. CNN’s got the footage.” Campbell raised the volume. Gunshots resounded in rapid succession, while thousands on the Mexican side ran away in all directions, and hundreds lay bloodied and broken. “There’s been a shoot-out at The Wall. The body count is suspected to be over a hundred.”
“Have them stop firing this instant. I ordered nothing of the sort!” “This isn’t live. It’s already over.”
The president looked back at the screen. They were now showing medical orderlies frantically running around, with voices audible from the studio.
“The acting commander ordered them to cease firing the second they started. But the fire lasted over ten minutes.”
“Who shot first?”
“We’re looking into it.”
If we fired first, then . . . Then everything’s going to spin out of control.
But Bob swallowed those words. He was going to get blasted by his constituents, his rivals, and the international community. This was a massacre, plain and simple.
“Call the secretaries of defense and state. We’re holding an NSC meeting,” said Bob, rising from his chair.
But he froze when he saw who was at the door. It was his daughter Patricia—who’d recently turned thirteen—stiff as a board, eyes glued to the screen. No doubt she’d overheard their conversation too. Her gaze turned to her father.
“Go to your room. I told you not to come here; I work here.” He didn’t mean to sound that harsh, but that was how the words came out.
Patricia dropped the file she’d been holding, and the photo of the puppy born just last week fell to the floor. That jogged his memory: She’d told him all about it over breakfast, and he’d asked her to show him. She snapped out of her dazed silence and broke into a run. “I hate you!”
That remark stabbed deep into his heart. He saw the tears welling in her eyes. She was a smart one, with an interest in politics. The full gravity of the situation couldn’t have eluded her.
The “Tragedy at The Wall” was made known to the world in real time. One hundred fifteen Cordovans were dead, 332 injured. Zero Ameri- cans were dead, eight injured.
The media and press were unanimous in decrying Washington. In addition, Captain Jadon Green was now the object of scorn and ridicule, reviled as the Border Butcher and the Killer Commander. Had he been court-martialed, he would have faced the distinct possibility of a life sentence, but he was able to secure a plea bargain at the inquiry commission thanks to his old superior, Colonel Stewart Gobel. Jadon acknowledged his own folly and his lack of experience. The military wanted Jadon disposed of as quickly as possible, so they slapped him with a dishonorable discharge. Now that that was on his record, depending on the state, he couldn’t vote or bear arms. In short order, the Tragedy had been chalked up to the grave error of a single captain, absolving the military as a whole.
The White House promptly conducted polling to better grasp the extent of the fallout. In a day’s time, President Copeland’s approval rating had plummeted 15 percent (from 52 percent to 37 percent). And the only reason it wasn’t even lower was because of the press conference he set up right on the incident’s heels, wherein he expressed his condolences to the victims and declared he would get to the bottom of the whole affair. At the same time, he stressed the rule of law in not allowing entry to the refugees who’d tried to storm their way over.
The invective that had dug under his skin the deepest remained Patricia’s “I hate you!” Even now, he could see the tears glistening in her accusing eyes.
* * *
Meanwhile, over in Cordova, dictator Gumersindo Cortázar wasted no time addressing his nation after he was apprised of the first reports: “Don’t run from your country. The Americans will just slaughter you. The only country for Cordovans is Cordova. The only country for Cor- dovans is right here. This is your heartland.”
Following that speech, almost no one dared leave the dictatorship anymore.