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Olga: the movie?

[This amazing piece of filmic literature appeared in a Google search, but alas! I couldn't reach back to the website to find out more. The title went like this: "MovieGorilla - Filmmakers Page - Streaming Video". What follows is taken from the Google cache, and I haven't changed the spelling or anything else, except to format it according to the Warbird's style. I've combined two Google hits, separating them with a horizontal line. If the author contacts me, I'll happily give him or her full credit. -- Dan Ford]


FADE IN: ON BURMESE MONTANYARD, DARK-SKINNED, WEARING CAMOfLAGE PAINT, SHADOWS RIPPLING OVER HIS FACE, MOTIONLESS, HE RAISES HIS RIFLE AND SIGHTS ALONG THE BARRELL.

SFX:THE WHIPPERWILL, AFRICAN HOOTER

OUR VIEW IS DOWN THE SIGHT OF THE BURMESE RIFLE AS HE PANS ACROSS A STRANGE GROUP OF BAMBOO HUTS, US ARMY TENTS AND P-40 FIGHTER PLANES.

SFX: WEIRD ANIMAL GRUNTS

We see the figure of a woman in kaki pants and flight jacket shaking water from a EATHERN WATERBOTTLE.

SFX: OF RIFLEMAN'S BREATHING

CU of finger on the trigger

SFX: EXPLOSION

Cut to Bamboo hutt where OLGA GREENLAW has just bent over to pick up a water jug when a bullet smashes it to bits, SHE TUMBLES SIDEWAYS in fear.

SFX: SMASHING, CRASHING

A YOUNG MAN with reddish hair, wearing a pilots flight jacket catches her before she hits the ground.

SANDELL

What the hell...?

OLGA

(Scream)

They're shooting at us, dammit.

CHENNAULT appears, a cocky little Napoleonic Colonel in a tight Eisenhower jacket and a while silk shirt.

CHENNAULT

That does it! I want every man jack to arm himself with a handgun. You hear me, boys?

OLGA LURCHES OUT OF THE ARMS OF SANDELL, flying in the face of the Colonel

OLGA

Eeery man, JACK, WHAT ABOUT JANE? I WANT A GUN, too, COLONEL - as big as anybody else's.


INT. RADIO SHACK--MINGLADON AERODROME -- DAY

The Air Force warning net RADIO CREW mans their equipment diligently. In a far corner, seated around a table littered with charts papers, is a HUDDLE OF AVIATORS. They talk in hushed voices.

AVIATOR 1

(in a thick drawl)

What do you guys got?

AVIATOR 2

Nothing.

As we get closer we see that they are not conspiring a military coup, but instead holding poker hands. The men are sweaty and in various stages of military attire--bomber jackets and boxer shorts, boots without socks, open uniform shirts.

AVIATOR 2 (CONT'D)

This is hopeless, Neil, a damn sin to humanity. I fold.

NEIL MARTIN, 25, shirtless and chewing on a toothpick, glares to his right at JAMES DUPUOY, 27, as he tosses his cards down.

MARTIN

Dupuoy, you never could play worth a pot of piss. Charlie?

Beside Dupuoy is CHARLIE OLDER, 32, itching his nose with his .45 sniffs arrogantly and sets his cards down.

OLDER

Two pair.

MARTIN

Smith? Green?

We pan to the right around the table. R.T SMITH, 20, inhales deeply on his cigarette and smiles boyishly.

SMITH

Zip.

PAUL GREEN, 23, tosses his cards as well.

GREEN

A pair of sixes. I win!

The others chuckle.

MARTIN

Greenlaw?

Martin finally comes around to the last person, on his left.

Under a standard issue hat is the delicate nose and sleek eyes of OLGA GREENLAW, 29. She mischievously flashes her hand down holding the cards precariously at her bosom clad in a uniform shirt--unbuttoned perhaps one button too many.

OLGA

Four kings.

The men grumble, then throw down their cards. Neil looks her hand over as she quickly stacks her cards.

MARTIN

Wait a minute...Let me see those cards.

He takes them from her.

MARTIN (CONT'D)

This is a pair of kings, a jack and a queen.

She laughs then scoops up the chips anyway.

OLGA

You have to let ladies win, didn't you know?

SMITH

That's if there were a lady playing...

She gets up, as if to attack Smith. Suddenly, the door bursts open. In storms HARVEY GREENLAW, 54, second in command as well as Olga's husband. He looks perturbed. She sees him and rolls her eyes. He scans the room, sees her and then stalks over toward her. She pulls the hat over her eyes. The men see him and jump to attention in a salute.

GREENLAW

At ease gentlemen.

The men breathe and quickly disperse.

GREENLAW (CONT'D)

(to Olga)

I didn't know where you got off to, dear. This isn't training anymore--we're in a real war.

OLGA

I know, I know, the Japanese bombed us last week--somewhere in Hawaii--blah blah.

GREENLAW

Olga this is serious. This is an urgent serious situation.

OLGA

Oh, go on. Our pilots have taken down hundreds of Japs without a single scratch. They can't even find us in all this jungle. Serious. Phsh. This damn war will be over and we'll be toasting the New Year in Times Square.

GREENLAW

It's not that simple. You must be alert to--

OLGA

Alert. Phsh. I'm just trying to keep myself busy in this God forsaken place.

GREENLAW

You should be performing your duties to Major Chennault--recording the information he--

OLGA

Chennault is too busy counting his planes and stomping around the base sucking down Camel cigarettes one after another.

She imitates the furious smoking of the Air Force commander.

OLGA (CONT'D)

It's hot and sticky and smells like rotting meat and exhaust and I'm bored and--

GREENLAW

Please go back to our quarters. I'll have some cool towels brought to you. Put on a dress--we'll have dinner in the officer's dining room together.

OLGA

(placated)

Do you promise darling?

GREENLAW

Please, go now. The radio shack is no place for a woman.

At that she looks annoyed. He kisses her lightly and then leaves out the swinging door. Instantly, the men sit back down and Martin starts to deal another hand.

continued in part 2