Scene 39 EXT. MAR SABA MONASTERY - DAY
A convoy of bulky vans and trucks makes its way through the rugged terrain toward the ancient Mar Saba Monastery, disturbing the peaceful desert silence with the sound of engines and honking. Dust clouds billow up behind them, marking their intrusion into the serene landscape.
CUT TO:
The production team, a bustling crew of cameramen, sound technicians, producers, and assistants, spill out of the vehicles. They set up cumbersome filming equipment, heavy cameras on tripods, and large, unwieldy boom microphones, forming a stark contrast with the timeless serenity of the monastery.
Morton Smith stands at the forefront, his expression a mix of excitement and unease as he watches the spectacle unfold. Beside him, Helmut Koester shakes his head in mild disbelief.
KOESTER
(whispering to Smith)
This might be a bit much, Morton.
SMITH
(forcing a smile)
Times are changing, Helmut. This is how it's done now.
Directors shout instructions, and crew members hustle about, setting up shots with the precision and disruption of a small invading force. The once-quiet monastery grounds are transformed into a loud, chaotic film set.
CUT TO:
INT. MAR SABA MONASTERY - LIBRARY - DAY
Inside, monks of Mar Saba watch from windows, visibly disturbed by the loud intrusion. They whisper among themselves, their faces a mixture of concern and disbelief.
MONK 1
(whispering to another)
What has become of this sacred place?
The scene shifts back outside. Smith attempts to proceed towards the monastery entrance, his path momentarily blocked by a camera operator angling for a better shot.
CAMERA OPERATOR
(yelling)
Hold up! Need to get this angle just right!
Smith stops, looking back at the desert now marked by tire tracks and footprints, a stark contrast to the solitude of his earlier visits. The scene encapsulates the jarring intrusion of modernity into this place of ancient solitude.
CUT TO:
EXT. MAR SABA MONASTERY - DAY - LATER
As the day wears on, the initial buzz of activity gives way to a deeper intrusion. The monks, their quiet day upended, retreat further into the monastery, closing the heavy doors behind them. The production team, caught up in their work, remains oblivious to the disturbance they've caused, their laughter and shouts echoing off the ancient stone walls.
Smith stands alone, his gaze stretching out over the desert, the clamor behind him clashing with the silent expanse in front. He contemplates the price of knowledge and the spectacle it has become, overshadowed by the very means of its pursuit.
EXT. MAR SABA MONASTERY - DAY
Danny, the Israeli assistant, holds a megaphone, disturbing the desert peace with his loud calls. Birds scatter in panic from the noise as he bellows for Morton Smith.
DANNY
(through megaphone)
Morton Smith! Morton Smith! Please come and see Danny. Who do we ask for at the monastery?
Morton Smith, with a chuckle and a shake of his head, makes his way through the assembled equipment and crew toward Danny. Helmut Koester follows, amused by the spectacle.
CUT TO:
Monks inside the monastery peer out from behind ancient windows, their expressions ranging from annoyance to outright disgust at the commotion outside their sacred retreat.
CUT BACK TO:
Smith approaches Danny, who, oblivious to the irony, continues to use the megaphone despite Smith being only a few feet away.
DANNY
(still through megaphone)
Who do we ask for?
SMITH
(trying to be heard over the feedback)
I haven’t been here in twenty-five years.
Danny's face drops, a mix of shock and frustration coloring his features.
DANNY
(still loudly, but off the megaphone now, causing feedback)
I just assumed you would know someone here. What the fuck. What the fuck.
Smith, visibly embarrassed by the outburst and the echoing feedback, tries to calm Danny down.
SMITH
Can you please keep it down?
Ignoring Smith, Danny continues, his voice rising in panic as he addresses the bewildered crew.
DANNY
Harold, does anyone know where we can call the rest of the team? Does someone have an idea what the fuck to do?
His voice reaches a crescendo, the frustration boiling over into a scream.
DANNY
(screaming)
DOES ANYONE KNOW ANYONE IN THIS FUCKING MONASTERY!
Smith, mortified by the spectacle, pleads with Danny to stop. In a fit of frustration, Danny throws the megaphone to the ground, causing it to emit a loud, continuous feedback noise, resembling an air raid siren, and flashing erratically.
Smith, desperate to escape the chaos, mutters under his breath.
SMITH
I’ll just go up to the door.
He walks away, leaving Danny with the malfunctioning megaphone, as the crew members exchange worried glances, unsure of what to do next. The stark contrast between the ancient monastery and the modern, invasive production crew has never been more apparent.
The desert sun casts long shadows as Morton Smith approaches the ancient door of the Mar Saba Monastery. The crew watches in silence, the previous chaos momentarily paused.
Smith raises his hand, gently knocking on the weathered wood. The sound echoes softly, a stark contrast to the earlier commotion. No response.
He knocks again, a bit more firmly, but still respectfully. The crew's frustration grows palpable in the silence that follows. No answer from within the monastery.
Danny, unable to contain his impatience any longer, storms up to the door beside Smith. His face twisted in annoyance, he starts banging and kicking at the door, cursing loudly. The door remains unyielding, silent as the stone walls around it.
CUT TO:
The scene shifts to nightfall. The monastery is now just a silhouette against the darkening sky. Danny is still at the door, his futile banging a lonely sound in the quiet of the desert night. The crew has scattered, their equipment a ghostly presence in the twilight.
Morton Smith stands apart, a figure of resignation and disappointment. The grand plans for the day have dissolved into the night, leaving only the stark reminder of the monastery's insularity and the desert's immutable silence.
FADE OUT.
INT. LONDON STUDIO - DAY
The bustling studio is a hive of activity as the producers scramble to assemble a replica of the Mar Saba scroll. Their excitement is palpable, their comments float through the air, filled with naive confidence. An old frail voice of Morton Smith is overlaid on the scene (V.O). Everyone at the production company kept telling me things were going to be fine. That everything was going to work out. They flew me back to London and decided to shoot the scenes with the manuscript in a sound stage in the city."
PRODUCER 1
This is great! It looks just like the real thing!
PRODUCER 2
No one will notice the difference. Genius!
The camera pans to Morton Smith, seated in makeup, his face being dusted with powder. The studio around him feels artificial, a stark contrast to the authenticity he pursued in his academic work.
Morton Smith's (V.O) Everyone kept telling me that everything was going to be alright. But I knew it wasn't. I would never seen that manuscript ever again. And something had changed in my life. It was like all the power and importance that I had acquired from that discovery just left my sails.
CUT TO:
CLOSE-UP on Morton Smith's face, his expression a complex mix of resignation, regret, and reflection. The ambient noise fades, giving way to his voice, frail and distant, as if echoing from a deep place within him.
MORTON SMITH (V.O.)
I never forged the Letter of Clement. I found it exactly as I describe in my books. If I was guilty of anything, it was of the things that Leah kept telling me in my dreams... and my awake nightmares that my life had become.
The scene shifts subtly, the studio blurring as we are transported to a memory, a moment lost in time.
EXT. CENTRAL PARK - DAY (FLASHBACK)
Morton wanders through Central Park, lost in thought. A commotion ahead catches his attention—a small boy, tears streaming down his face, surrounded by taunting peers. The cruelty of their laughter cuts through the park's tranquility.
BOY 1
(Laughing) Look, he wrote 'Dead' instead of 'Dad'!
The young boy, desperate and alone, rushes towards Morton, crashing into his legs, seeking refuge in the presence of a stranger. Morton, taken aback, instinctively wraps his arms around the child, offering silent comfort.
MORTON SMITH (V.O.)
(Contemplatively) ...it must have been Father's Day... He spelled it "Dead" and all the boys...
The mocking fades as Morton and the boy share a moment of understanding, a poignant reminder of the fragility of life and the depth of human emotion.
MORTON SMITH (V.O.) (CONT'D)
(Reflectively) That moment, in the innocence of a child's mistake and the cruelty of others, I saw the complexity of human grief and misunderstanding. It mirrored the accusations against me—a simple truth misunderstood, twisted into something unrecognizable.
CUT BACK TO:
INT. LONDON STUDIO - DAY
The studio comes back into focus, the frenetic energy of the production a jarring contrast to the depth of Morton's reflection. The fake scroll is being positioned for filming, but Morton's attention is elsewhere, lost in the echoes of past injustices and the pain of being misunderstood.
The set is designed to mimic an academic's study, filled with books and antiquities. The atmosphere is charged with a somber gravity as the crew prepares for the next segment. The camera focuses on Morton Smith, seated comfortably yet with a palpable air of resignation.
MORTON SMITH (V.O.)
I stopped talking about the manuscript. I said it was because I wanted to move on. But the truth was that the events of 1983 just made me feel as if it was the end. It wasn't me that left the manuscript abandoned on the shelf in 1958, but rather, twenty-five years later, a part of me was left abandoned in the desert in 1983. I would never be the same.
The director signals, and the interview begins. The interviewer, a respectful journalist with a deep interest in religious history, turns to Morton with a gentle inquiry.
INTERVIEWER
[Just do a recreation of Morton Smith's interview from the television series]
Morton Smith (V.O.) In many ways, I did leave a part of myself in the desert that day. The controversy didn't just question my discovery; it questioned my life's work, my passion... my truth. And that’s a difficult thing to come back from. But worst of all, as I sit and reflect, I wish I hadn't ever changed that iota into a sigma, the "i" into an "s."
Scene 40 EXT. CENTRAL PARK - DUSK (DREAMLIKE SEQUENCE)
The setting sun casts long shadows through the trees of Central Park. The scene is ethereal, with a slight mist swirling around the edges, making it seem as if we're in a different realm.
MORTON SMITH (V.O.)
I stopped seeing Leah in my dreams after 1983. I stopped thinking about her, really. I didn't have any contact with any female companions of any kind after that.
As he speaks, we see Morton Smith walking alone along a winding path. The park is serene, with only the distant sounds of the city penetrating the tranquility. He moves with a sense of purpose yet seems lost in thought, disconnected from the world around him.
The camera pans up to reveal Leah's ghostly figure watching Morton from a distance. She's radiant, a stark contrast to the dimming light, yet she too seems untouchable, trapped in a different plane of existence.
LEAH (V.O.)
(softly, with sadness) Morton...
Morton stops and looks around, a sense of recognition flashing in his eyes, but he's unable to pinpoint its source. He turns back on his path, continuing his solitary walk.
MORTON SMITH (V.O.) (CONT'D)
Life became quieter, lonelier. The controversy, the debates... they all faded into the background. And with them, so did Leah, until she was nothing more than a whisper of the past.
The scene shifts, becoming more surreal. The park around Morton transforms subtly, with historical texts and fragments of the Secret Gospel of Mark floating in the air around him. He reaches out to touch them, but they dissolve upon contact, like dreams that disappear when you try to hold onto them.
MORTON SMITH (V.O.) (CONT'D)
I became a man out of time, a scholar without a cause. My work, once my greatest companion, now a reminder of what I'd lost... or perhaps, what I'd never truly had.
Leah's figure begins to fade away, dissolving into the mist, leaving Morton truly alone. The camera slowly pulls back, leaving Morton a solitary figure in the vastness of the park, a symbol of his isolation and the ephemeral nature of his discoveries and relationships.
FADE OUT.
Scene 41 INT. MANHATTAN GAY BAR - NIGHT
The atmosphere is lively and inviting, with colorful lights and music setting a vibrant tone. People are chatting, laughing, and dancing, creating a sense of community and belonging.
MORTON SMITH (V.O.)
I even mustered the courage once to visit a gay bar in Manhattan. I went in disguise. It took me about all my courage to go through the front door.
Morton Smith, noticeably out of place and dressed in an attempt to blend in, hesitantly approaches the entrance. The DOORMAN, a large, friendly-looking man, greets him with a nod.
DOORMAN
Cover charge tonight, buddy.
Morton fumbles with his wallet, his hands shaking slightly as he hands over the money. He then quickly moves past the doorman, entering the lively bar. The contrast between the vibrant atmosphere and Morton's trepidation is stark.
Morton finds a stool at the far end of the bar and sits down, clutching his drink without taking a sip. He looks around, taking in the scene but clearly feeling like an outsider.
MORTON SMITH (V.O.) (CONT'D)
Just sat there for about 20 minutes. Finally, someone came over to me. Asked if I was having a good time. He was a lot younger than me.
A YOUNG MAN, friendly and with a warm smile, approaches Morton, trying to engage him in conversation. Morton barely manages a nod, his discomfort visible.
YOUNG MAN
(first friendly, then concerned) You alright, man? First time here?
Before the young man can continue, Morton's panic overtakes him. He abruptly stands, knocking over his stool in his haste, grabs his coat, and rushes towards the exit.
MORTON SMITH (V.O.) (CONT'D)
I just panicked, grabbed my things, and ran out of the bar. I don't remember much more than that.
EXT. MANHATTAN GAY BAR - NIGHT
Morton emerges onto the street, breathing heavily, the sounds of the bar fading behind him. He looks back once, a mix of longing and fear in his eyes, then turns and disappears into the night.
FADE OUT.
Scene 44 INT. HOSPITAL ROOM - DAY
The room is stark, illuminated by the harsh light from the window and the soft glow of medical monitors. MORTON SMITH lies on the bed, frail and visibly aged, with IV tubes attached to his arms. Despite the clinical surroundings, there's a sense of solitude that envelops him.
MORTON SMITH (V.O.)
I was eventually diagnosed with terminal cancer. We all gotta go out some day. One day, it will be your turn. You'll be lying here just like me.
The room is silent, save for the soft beeping of the heart monitor. An open briefcase sits beside the bed, its contents partially visible.
MORTON SMITH (V.O.) (CONT'D)
Maybe some of you, if you married well, will have spouses and children crying around you, making you feel bad. Maybe they will make you feel good. I wouldn't know. I didn't have any immediate family. Just one friend and some professional acquaintances who came to visit me, and of course, priests—plenty of priests.
A PRIEST sits by the bed, offering silent prayers, while a lone FRIEND stands awkwardly at the door, unsure of what to say or do.
MORTON SMITH (V.O.) (CONT'D)
After my suicide, those professional acquaintances opened the briefcase I kept beside my bed and found an incongruous, plastic-cased ID among the workaday address books and pocket calendars. “This is to certify,” it said, “that The Reverend Robert M. Smith is a priest.”
The camera slowly zooms in on the plastic-cased ID lying amongst personal items, its significance overshadowed in life, now poignant in death.
MORTON SMITH (V.O.) (CONT'D)
I held onto it until my dying day. The truth was, I never stopped being a priest. I never stopped being married to God.
The scene is quietly powerful, a testament to the complexities of faith, identity, and the human experience. Morton's gaze drifts towards the window, a faint smile crossing his lips as he contemplates the journey ahead.
FADE IN:
INT. HOSPITAL ROOM - DAY (CONTINUING)
The camera remains focused on MORTON SMITH, as his eyes close gently, surrendering to the inevitable. The heart monitor's beeping slows, then flatlines. The room is silent, save for the distant sounds of the hospital.
MORTON SMITH (V.O.) (CONT'D)
I never saw Leah running to me in the hereafter. It's not at all like that. You see your whole life pass before your eyes like you're on a rollercoaster. You feel really good.
A soft smile forms on Morton's lips, his expression serene in his final moments.
MORTON SMITH (V.O.) (CONT'D)
Being alone doesn't hurt anymore. The pain goes away.
The camera pulls back, leaving Morton at peace, as a bright light fills the screen, blurring the edges of the room, symbolizing his departure from this world.
FADE TO WHITE.
The sound of the heart monitor is replaced by a calm, soothing silence, symbolizing Morton's release from the physical and emotional pains of his earthly life.
FADE OUT.
Morton Smith Movie
-
Secret Alias
- Posts: 18922
- Joined: Sun Apr 19, 2015 8:47 am
Re: Morton Smith Movie
Not over yet. Have to do something else. Still a scene or two away if anyone is bothering to follow this bad screenplay.
-
Secret Alias
- Posts: 18922
- Joined: Sun Apr 19, 2015 8:47 am
Re: Morton Smith Movie
Final scene: INT. JERUSALEM PATRIARCHATE LIBRARY - DAY
The scene emerges from darkness to reveal a well-lit room filled with ancient texts and manuscripts. "Mr Koosnel. Mr Koosnel." KALISTOS DOURVAS, a Greek Orthodox priest, stands in the center, holding a plastic bag with papers inside in one hand and an old book in the other.
QUESNELL, looking puzzled and a bit anxious, steps forward to meet Kalistos. The camera focuses on Quesnell's face as he tries to comprehend the situation.
QUESNELL
What is this?
Kalistos offers a gentle, knowing smile, sensing Quesnell's realization of what he's being presented with.
KALISTOS
It was done.
The camera pans down to show Kalistos placing the book on a table before carefully showing the plastic bag to the camera. The tension in the room is palpable as Quesnell recognizes the manuscript has been removed from the book.
QUENTIN QUESNELL (V.O.)
Dearest Jean,
Well, this has been a rather sensational day. I did get to see the manuscript at 8:30 and worked on it till 11:30 (their daily limit at the Patriarchate).
As Quesnell speaks, his voice is filled with a mix of triumph and disbelief. The camera follows his hands as he tenderly handles the manuscript within the plastic bag, not opening it as instructed.
QUENTIN QUESNELL (V.O.) (CONT'D)
The librarian was very nice. I got my honorary cup of coffee (Greek) of course.
The background fills with the ambient sounds of the library, including the distant, heated discussions in Greek among the elders, adding a lively contrast to the solemnity of the moment.
QUENTIN QUESNELL (V.O.) (CONT'D)
The manuscript itself is two free sheets that they have removed from the printed volume they were a part of. The two sheets are kept in a plastic binder which you are asked not to open.
The camera zooms in on the plastic bag as Quesnell examines each page through the plastic, his face reflecting a mix of satisfaction and contemplation. The Greek arguing grows louder, imbuing the scene with a sense of urgency and authenticity.
The lively and exotic sounds of oriental music from nearby bazaars blend with the ongoing commotion of animated Greek conversations, creating an evocative soundscape. The camera finds QUESNELL again, now examining the volume handed to him separately by the librarian.
QUESNELL
The first thing I did was check the volume itself – which they handed me separately – to see if it contained any notes.
He flips the book open to page 11, his fingers delicately tracing the markings he describes.
QUESNELL (CONT'D)
The librarian said that it didn’t. But it does. On page 11, there are about twenty squiggles across the top & down the right margin. They turn out to be Greek letters.
The camera zooms in on the page, focusing on the scribbles Quesnell points out. The intricate details of the letters are brought into sharp relief, highlighting their significance.
QUESNELL (CONT'D)
The last five are clearly identifiable. They are the 18th century way of writing [Greek letter pi], repeated about 5 times.
As he speaks, the camera provides a detailed view of the letters, allowing the audience to see exactly what Quesnell sees.
QUESNELL (CONT'D)
On the top, there are a couple of different B’s and a couple of others, each one repeated with variations.
He pauses, his gaze thoughtful as he considers the implications of his discovery.
QUESNELL (CONT'D)
Of course, you know how I take it. It’s like Rosie practicing Philly’s signature.
The camera pulls back to show Quesnell putting down the book, his demeanor reflecting a mix of academic excitement and personal satisfaction.
QUESNELL (CONT'D)
But though the ink of those efforts looks much like the ink of the manuscript, I don’t think the same person wrote both. His efforts on page 11 are too amateurish. Still, if he went off & practiced for a long time – perhaps. But more probably, he would have hired a Greek.
The music and the distant arguments fade as Quesnell's voice carries over, pondering the mysteries still enshrouded in the ancient text. The scene lingers for a moment on the enigmatic page before fading out, leaving the audience to contemplate the depth and complexity of historical inquiry.
INT. JERUSALEM PATRIARCHATE LIBRARY - DAY
The scene shifts abruptly, bringing us back to the moment where CALLISTOS hands over the crucial documents, the scene replaying but now with an undercurrent of revelation.
QUESNELL (V.O.)
Anyway, what do I find in the manuscript, magnified by two glasses?
The camera zooms in on the manuscript, now under a magnifying glass, each detail accentuated, each anomaly highlighted.
QUESNELL (V.O.) (CONT'D)
First, no penetration of the page. Neither had the page 11 writing penetrated. Not even where the ink of the manuscript is laid on heavily, as it is in a couple of places, is there any notable penetration.
The camera switches between the manuscript and the page 11 notes, comparing the ink's behavior on the paper, the stark differences becoming evident.
QUESNELL (V.O.) (CONT'D)
Second, no spreading out of the letters from ink soaking in, as in all my other examples.
A side-by-side comparison showcases the distinct ink spread in other documents against the crisp lines of the manuscript's text.
QUESNELL (V.O.) (CONT'D)
Third, a sharply black-colored ink, which I have not found in any 18th-century stuff – but I only have about 8 samples.
Samples of 18th-century ink on various documents are shown next to the manuscript's ink, the contrast in color is striking.
QUESNELL (V.O.) (CONT'D)
Now, speaking as no expert, but just trying to remember what I read about forgeries in detective stories...
A light-hearted moment amidst the scrutiny, Quesnell's admission brings a human touch to the rigorous academic investigation, bridging the gap between scholarly pursuit and popular imagination.
The camera pulls back to show QUESNELL studying the manuscript intently, a blend of determination and curiosity etched on his face. The scene is a testament to the complexities and challenges of historical verification, set against the backdrop of a quest for truth that transcends the academic world.
INT. JERUSALEM PATRIARCHATE LIBRARY - DAY
The tension in the room is palpable as QUESNELL concludes his examination of the manuscript, his voice-over capturing the complexity of his findings.
QUESNELL (V.O.)
Well, it wasn’t quite as easy as I thought the other day.
The camera follows QUESNELL’s hands as they flip through other ancient documents from Mar Saba, highlighting the similar ink breaks, squiggles, and hesitations.
QUESNELL (V.O.) (CONT'D)
I’ve been examining loads of other writings from Mar Saba itself from the 18th century, and many of them too have breaks and squiggles and perhaps hesitations. They’re not all forgeries.
A montage shows QUESNELL with a magnifying glass, comparing the documents, the similarities between them slowly dawning on him.
QUESNELL (V.O.) (CONT'D)
I do think they have many fewer than our friends; but that’s not as easy to prove as if they just had none at all. And some of them don’t seem to have soaked into the pages very much either.
The camera focuses on the barely soaked ink of the Mar Saba writings, juxtaposing them against the manuscript in question.
QUESNELL (V.O.) (CONT'D)
So experts are going to have to be consulted. But the librarian shudders every time I suggest more people coming.
The camera captures the LIBRARIAN’s visibly uncomfortable reaction to the suggestion of bringing in more experts, his apprehension clear.
CUT TO:
QUESNELL, standing alone in the dimly lit library, a silhouette against the rows of ancient texts. He sighs deeply, the weight of his task evident.
FADE IN:
EXT. JUDEAN DESERT - DAY
The vast, arid landscape of the Judean Desert stretches out, a testament to solitude and ancient mysteries. KALLISTOS and QUESNELL, dressed reminiscently of Morton Smith's original journey, traverse the rocky valley. Their figures are dwarfed by the vastness around them, their steps a quiet echo in the expanse.
QUESNELL (V.O.)
Anyway, we’re getting to be pretty good friends. He has agreed to go with me out to the Mar Saba monastery.
The scene visualizes their camaraderie, with shared smiles and the occasional exchange of words, their mutual respect and understanding evident.
QUESNELL (V.O.) (CONT'D)
He is convinced there is another secret door there which will lead to a cache of manuscripts like the door & mss they found in 1887.
The camera captures their imaginative glances towards the cliffs, reflecting the hopeful anticipation of uncovering hidden treasures.
QUESNELL (V.O.) (CONT'D)
Not that we can hunt for that this time. One would have to live there, as he did for a month one time...
The desert's vastness juxtaposes with the intimacy of their expedition, underscoring the vastness of history and the personal journeys that intersect with it.
QUESNELL (V.O.) (CONT'D)
Wish you were here for a few selfish reasons as well as the fun you might have seeing all this. But you aren’t, so I will have to hurry home to you...
A gentle, reflective sadness touches Quesnell's voice, a longing for shared experiences and companionship.
QUESNELL (V.O.) (CONT'D)
I pray you’re moving along as rapidly as you hoped and not getting caught up in too many other things. And above all that you are well.
The camera pans up to the sky, capturing the fleeting beauty of the desert sun as it casts long shadows, symbolizing the passage of time and the enduring nature of hope and prayer.
QUESNELL (V.O.) (CONT'D)
I pray that the doctor wasn’t too dismayed at what you brought home from your six month neglect. And I hope you are warm. And dry. As I am. It’s still nice for a change.
As they continue their journey, the scene slowly fades, leaving the viewers with a sense of closure yet an openness to the countless stories still untold, the enduring quest for knowledge, and the deeply human connections that transcend time and place.
FADE OUT.
END
The scene emerges from darkness to reveal a well-lit room filled with ancient texts and manuscripts. "Mr Koosnel. Mr Koosnel." KALISTOS DOURVAS, a Greek Orthodox priest, stands in the center, holding a plastic bag with papers inside in one hand and an old book in the other.
QUESNELL, looking puzzled and a bit anxious, steps forward to meet Kalistos. The camera focuses on Quesnell's face as he tries to comprehend the situation.
QUESNELL
What is this?
Kalistos offers a gentle, knowing smile, sensing Quesnell's realization of what he's being presented with.
KALISTOS
It was done.
The camera pans down to show Kalistos placing the book on a table before carefully showing the plastic bag to the camera. The tension in the room is palpable as Quesnell recognizes the manuscript has been removed from the book.
QUENTIN QUESNELL (V.O.)
Dearest Jean,
Well, this has been a rather sensational day. I did get to see the manuscript at 8:30 and worked on it till 11:30 (their daily limit at the Patriarchate).
As Quesnell speaks, his voice is filled with a mix of triumph and disbelief. The camera follows his hands as he tenderly handles the manuscript within the plastic bag, not opening it as instructed.
QUENTIN QUESNELL (V.O.) (CONT'D)
The librarian was very nice. I got my honorary cup of coffee (Greek) of course.
The background fills with the ambient sounds of the library, including the distant, heated discussions in Greek among the elders, adding a lively contrast to the solemnity of the moment.
QUENTIN QUESNELL (V.O.) (CONT'D)
The manuscript itself is two free sheets that they have removed from the printed volume they were a part of. The two sheets are kept in a plastic binder which you are asked not to open.
The camera zooms in on the plastic bag as Quesnell examines each page through the plastic, his face reflecting a mix of satisfaction and contemplation. The Greek arguing grows louder, imbuing the scene with a sense of urgency and authenticity.
The lively and exotic sounds of oriental music from nearby bazaars blend with the ongoing commotion of animated Greek conversations, creating an evocative soundscape. The camera finds QUESNELL again, now examining the volume handed to him separately by the librarian.
QUESNELL
The first thing I did was check the volume itself – which they handed me separately – to see if it contained any notes.
He flips the book open to page 11, his fingers delicately tracing the markings he describes.
QUESNELL (CONT'D)
The librarian said that it didn’t. But it does. On page 11, there are about twenty squiggles across the top & down the right margin. They turn out to be Greek letters.
The camera zooms in on the page, focusing on the scribbles Quesnell points out. The intricate details of the letters are brought into sharp relief, highlighting their significance.
QUESNELL (CONT'D)
The last five are clearly identifiable. They are the 18th century way of writing [Greek letter pi], repeated about 5 times.
As he speaks, the camera provides a detailed view of the letters, allowing the audience to see exactly what Quesnell sees.
QUESNELL (CONT'D)
On the top, there are a couple of different B’s and a couple of others, each one repeated with variations.
He pauses, his gaze thoughtful as he considers the implications of his discovery.
QUESNELL (CONT'D)
Of course, you know how I take it. It’s like Rosie practicing Philly’s signature.
The camera pulls back to show Quesnell putting down the book, his demeanor reflecting a mix of academic excitement and personal satisfaction.
QUESNELL (CONT'D)
But though the ink of those efforts looks much like the ink of the manuscript, I don’t think the same person wrote both. His efforts on page 11 are too amateurish. Still, if he went off & practiced for a long time – perhaps. But more probably, he would have hired a Greek.
The music and the distant arguments fade as Quesnell's voice carries over, pondering the mysteries still enshrouded in the ancient text. The scene lingers for a moment on the enigmatic page before fading out, leaving the audience to contemplate the depth and complexity of historical inquiry.
INT. JERUSALEM PATRIARCHATE LIBRARY - DAY
The scene shifts abruptly, bringing us back to the moment where CALLISTOS hands over the crucial documents, the scene replaying but now with an undercurrent of revelation.
QUESNELL (V.O.)
Anyway, what do I find in the manuscript, magnified by two glasses?
The camera zooms in on the manuscript, now under a magnifying glass, each detail accentuated, each anomaly highlighted.
QUESNELL (V.O.) (CONT'D)
First, no penetration of the page. Neither had the page 11 writing penetrated. Not even where the ink of the manuscript is laid on heavily, as it is in a couple of places, is there any notable penetration.
The camera switches between the manuscript and the page 11 notes, comparing the ink's behavior on the paper, the stark differences becoming evident.
QUESNELL (V.O.) (CONT'D)
Second, no spreading out of the letters from ink soaking in, as in all my other examples.
A side-by-side comparison showcases the distinct ink spread in other documents against the crisp lines of the manuscript's text.
QUESNELL (V.O.) (CONT'D)
Third, a sharply black-colored ink, which I have not found in any 18th-century stuff – but I only have about 8 samples.
Samples of 18th-century ink on various documents are shown next to the manuscript's ink, the contrast in color is striking.
QUESNELL (V.O.) (CONT'D)
Now, speaking as no expert, but just trying to remember what I read about forgeries in detective stories...
A light-hearted moment amidst the scrutiny, Quesnell's admission brings a human touch to the rigorous academic investigation, bridging the gap between scholarly pursuit and popular imagination.
The camera pulls back to show QUESNELL studying the manuscript intently, a blend of determination and curiosity etched on his face. The scene is a testament to the complexities and challenges of historical verification, set against the backdrop of a quest for truth that transcends the academic world.
INT. JERUSALEM PATRIARCHATE LIBRARY - DAY
The tension in the room is palpable as QUESNELL concludes his examination of the manuscript, his voice-over capturing the complexity of his findings.
QUESNELL (V.O.)
Well, it wasn’t quite as easy as I thought the other day.
The camera follows QUESNELL’s hands as they flip through other ancient documents from Mar Saba, highlighting the similar ink breaks, squiggles, and hesitations.
QUESNELL (V.O.) (CONT'D)
I’ve been examining loads of other writings from Mar Saba itself from the 18th century, and many of them too have breaks and squiggles and perhaps hesitations. They’re not all forgeries.
A montage shows QUESNELL with a magnifying glass, comparing the documents, the similarities between them slowly dawning on him.
QUESNELL (V.O.) (CONT'D)
I do think they have many fewer than our friends; but that’s not as easy to prove as if they just had none at all. And some of them don’t seem to have soaked into the pages very much either.
The camera focuses on the barely soaked ink of the Mar Saba writings, juxtaposing them against the manuscript in question.
QUESNELL (V.O.) (CONT'D)
So experts are going to have to be consulted. But the librarian shudders every time I suggest more people coming.
The camera captures the LIBRARIAN’s visibly uncomfortable reaction to the suggestion of bringing in more experts, his apprehension clear.
CUT TO:
QUESNELL, standing alone in the dimly lit library, a silhouette against the rows of ancient texts. He sighs deeply, the weight of his task evident.
FADE IN:
EXT. JUDEAN DESERT - DAY
The vast, arid landscape of the Judean Desert stretches out, a testament to solitude and ancient mysteries. KALLISTOS and QUESNELL, dressed reminiscently of Morton Smith's original journey, traverse the rocky valley. Their figures are dwarfed by the vastness around them, their steps a quiet echo in the expanse.
QUESNELL (V.O.)
Anyway, we’re getting to be pretty good friends. He has agreed to go with me out to the Mar Saba monastery.
The scene visualizes their camaraderie, with shared smiles and the occasional exchange of words, their mutual respect and understanding evident.
QUESNELL (V.O.) (CONT'D)
He is convinced there is another secret door there which will lead to a cache of manuscripts like the door & mss they found in 1887.
The camera captures their imaginative glances towards the cliffs, reflecting the hopeful anticipation of uncovering hidden treasures.
QUESNELL (V.O.) (CONT'D)
Not that we can hunt for that this time. One would have to live there, as he did for a month one time...
The desert's vastness juxtaposes with the intimacy of their expedition, underscoring the vastness of history and the personal journeys that intersect with it.
QUESNELL (V.O.) (CONT'D)
Wish you were here for a few selfish reasons as well as the fun you might have seeing all this. But you aren’t, so I will have to hurry home to you...
A gentle, reflective sadness touches Quesnell's voice, a longing for shared experiences and companionship.
QUESNELL (V.O.) (CONT'D)
I pray you’re moving along as rapidly as you hoped and not getting caught up in too many other things. And above all that you are well.
The camera pans up to the sky, capturing the fleeting beauty of the desert sun as it casts long shadows, symbolizing the passage of time and the enduring nature of hope and prayer.
QUESNELL (V.O.) (CONT'D)
I pray that the doctor wasn’t too dismayed at what you brought home from your six month neglect. And I hope you are warm. And dry. As I am. It’s still nice for a change.
As they continue their journey, the scene slowly fades, leaving the viewers with a sense of closure yet an openness to the countless stories still untold, the enduring quest for knowledge, and the deeply human connections that transcend time and place.
FADE OUT.
END
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StephenGoranson
- Posts: 2620
- Joined: Thu Apr 02, 2015 2:10 am
Re: Morton Smith Movie
Just a few more notes after a quick reading. Maybe I'm mistaken about some of this.
I, of course, think Smith brought the pre-inscribed (and pre-photographed?) Voss book with him, took his time to locate a similar-looking volume to take with him at night, replaced that with Voss the next day, ditched the look-alike, so his monk minder saw the same number of books returned. The books were not checked out with library cards, much less barcodes.
Yes, I guess by now it would run over an hour.
Would he call Nock Darby?
The photos he took did show the page edges; the cropping happened during book production.
Vermes, iirc, didn't speak that way.
The number of visits to Mar Saba may be off.
The naked or nakeds business borrows Nock in unsupported special pleading by you.
He, I think, invited several additional news outlets to the 1960 SBL announcement; only NY Times showed up.
Did anything like the QQ and Koester meeting happen?
[Maybe guessed, but still no pre-Voss mention nor provenance uncovered.]
Flusser, I imagine, was even more skeptical; Pines, possibly less so.
The viewer might not know where the Isidore-seeking came from. [Odd assignment, imo.]
Swedenborg on--heterosexual--soul mates is an unlikely go-to talking point from that Cambridge gay priest to MS.
I, of course, think Smith brought the pre-inscribed (and pre-photographed?) Voss book with him, took his time to locate a similar-looking volume to take with him at night, replaced that with Voss the next day, ditched the look-alike, so his monk minder saw the same number of books returned. The books were not checked out with library cards, much less barcodes.
Yes, I guess by now it would run over an hour.
Would he call Nock Darby?
The photos he took did show the page edges; the cropping happened during book production.
Vermes, iirc, didn't speak that way.
The number of visits to Mar Saba may be off.
The naked or nakeds business borrows Nock in unsupported special pleading by you.
He, I think, invited several additional news outlets to the 1960 SBL announcement; only NY Times showed up.
Did anything like the QQ and Koester meeting happen?
[Maybe guessed, but still no pre-Voss mention nor provenance uncovered.]
Flusser, I imagine, was even more skeptical; Pines, possibly less so.
The viewer might not know where the Isidore-seeking came from. [Odd assignment, imo.]
Swedenborg on--heterosexual--soul mates is an unlikely go-to talking point from that Cambridge gay priest to MS.
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Secret Alias
- Posts: 18922
- Joined: Sun Apr 19, 2015 8:47 am
Re: Morton Smith Movie
Excellent assistance. My wife is talking about OJ Simpson dying. I will address your concerns shortly.
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Secret Alias
- Posts: 18922
- Joined: Sun Apr 19, 2015 8:47 am
Re: Morton Smith Movie
Right off the top. Yes I talked to Koester and he remembers the meeting. “I gave a lecture at the Hebrew University about the Secret Gospel of Mark, was told by Professor David Flusser that I had been the victim of the intrigues of "that evil man," was informed by an American colleague, who happened to be present, that Morton Smith had actually forged the document himself, then returned to the American Colony Hotel, where the first person I ran into was nobody else but Morton Smith himself. We had dinner together--most enjoyable, witty, sarcastic, licking our wounds and reassessing the evidence in view of the data, with good drinks and good wine. At this occasion, as well as in numerous other instances, I profited immensely from Morton's unmatched learning, knowledge of sources, critical judgement, and helpful advice.”