Based on a real shop sign.
SCENE 1. EXT. DAY.
A window from the inside. A sprayer nebulizes small drops on the window. From the opposite side of the street, a man approaches, but he does not yet recognize himself. A windshield wiper removes the drops from the glass. From the slightly worn shoes that arrive in front of the window, we see the face of a man in his forties wearing sunglasses. His face peers at the sign that reads: The nice thing about shoes. The man takes the steps that are needed to cross the threshold. At the counter, a girl is reading a book listlessly, sucking on a chupa chups.
MICHAEL
(raising his sunglasses with a confident air)
Hello...
CLERK
(without interrupting her reading)
Can I help you?
MICHAEL
I hope so. I was looking for shoes similar to the ones I'm wearing...
The CLERK leans over the counter.
CLERK
Nice. (Pause) But we don't have them.
MICHAEL
Oh. And similar ones?
CLERK
Not even.
MICHAEL
Well, then what kind of shoes do you have?
CLERK
(continuing to read the book)
None.
MICHAEL
What do you mean? You don't sell shoes?
CLERK
No.
MICHAEL
And what do you sell?
CLERK
The nice thing about shoes.
MICHAEL
And what would that be?
CLERK
That would be 90 euros.
MICHAEL
Are you kidding me?! I have to spend 90 euros to know the "nice thing of the shoes"? I already know what the beauty of shoes is.
Pause. Detail of the CLERK's book. The scene changes. It becomes a little darker and with a soft light. The CLERK closes the book and puts on a pair of sunglasses and starts looking the man in the face. Her tone has become serious, almost hieratic.
CLERK
Oh, yes? Are you sure? Have you ever really stopped to think about what the nice about shoes is!?
MICHAEL
(a little intimidated)
Well, not really stopped to think. One puts on shoes and that's it. He already knows their beauty. And you sell this information for 90 euros. Pfff... Ridiculous.
CLERK
You have no idea how many things you do without thinking too much about them. You live well even like that, for goodness sake. They are choices. If you prefer to put on shoes without knowing their beauty, that's your problem.
MICHAEL
(regaining courage)
But I already know it! Don't you believe me? I'll prove it to you. Right now I'll shout it at the top of my lungs, but I don't want to ruin your business, eh! The nice thing about shoes is:...
CLERK
Let's hear it.
MICHAEL
It's... But yeah, come on! It's easy.
CLERK
I'm listening.
MICHAEL
Damn it! Now that I think about it, I don't know. I've never known.
CLERK
See? Almost no one knows. But the serious thing is that they don't want to know.
MICHAEL
And why not?
CLERK
(Approaching as if to whisper a secret)
You start thinking about shoes... and then... Go up.
MICHAEL
You mean at the knees? Pants!... Underwear?!
CLERK
(disarmed)
But no, what are you talking about? It was metaphorical.
MICHAEL
(excited, as if he had an epiphany)
Of course! The nice thing about underwear, shirts, cuffs, golf, jackets, hats! Why do I wear a swimsuit? And the essence of gloves?! Why do I hate the scarf? If you think about it, it changes everything! Thank you thank you!
CLERK
(disappointed, she puts away her glasses and picks up her book)
Yeah, well, goodbye.
Suddenly, a bright light appears behind Michael, the clerk raises her head from the book, Michael turns around and puts his sunglasses back on.
The light becomes blinding and everything fades to white.
As the credits roll on white, we hear a dialogue.
WOMAN
Good morning, I was looking for low-heeled shoes.
CLERK
(sighing)
We don't have any.
WOMAN
With high heels?
CLERK
Not even.
WOMAN
But excuse me, don't you sell shoes?
CLERK
No.
WOMAN
And what do you sell?
CLERK
The nice thing about shoes.
WOMAN
And what would that be?
CLERK
That would be 90 euros...
THE END
YOU ARE READING
The nice thing about shoes / Il bello delle scarpe.
Historia CortaA man enters a store attracted by the sign that reads "The nice thing about shoes". He then discovers that the store does not actually sell shoes, but concepts, or rather, a concept. A short film that can mean everything and nothing. Un uomo entra i...
