From the Magician's Nephew
The arrival in Charn.
Exterior day
camera at first appears out of focus, as though it’s being looked at through a sheet of gauze, allowing viewers to feel like they are being caught up in the magic as his world grows into view. Not that threes much to look at. The Minute the scene comes into view we see Diggory and Polly, standing in the midst of an empty field, there is no green or growing thing, n+to even any birds cawing or crickets chirping.
It looks like they landed on the surface of Mars. We don’t ‘even hear any wind blowing.
Thematically, there shouldn’t ‘even be any orchestral music in the background at this moment. It needs to feel devoid of life in every sense, not just physically but emotionally. An ominous red sun hangs over head, a la Krypton in Superman: The movie. the sky is jet black.
Lighting effects, use mostly blues and purples to give this world a “cold” feel.
Digory: “What a desolate place this is.”
Polly: *shudders*: I don’t like it.
Digory: It’s very odd weather here.
Digory seems to be taking the place in as if he’s studying it. He’s nervous but in some ways he feels as he’s an accidental explorer he has to make observations about this strange new world. At the same time, he hates the silence around him and Polly. It isn’t the companionable silence that accompanies the bonds oaf a good friendship like there’s, it’s something worse, as if they have entered a literal layer of Hell itself. So, he gulps and prepares to speak again, tugging on his Eaton collar.
Digory: I wonder if we've arrived just in time for a thunderstorm; or an eclipse.
Polly: A bit more urgently, and under her breath, seemingly hissing: I don't like it.
They continue on the desolate rode to the walls of a ruined city, they can make out the faint outlines of silhouettes imprinted on the brick. Each silhouette seems to have its arms raised as if they are fleeing something.
Continue further in to the city. Polly’s teeth begin chattering, both from fear and cold. Digory won’t show it but he feels the same. She pus an arm around him, he reciprocates, as if they are trying to comfort each other at a funeral as well as keep warm.
They keep their eyes open hoping to see some signs of life, something, but everything seems to scream abandon every hope all ye who enter here. Through the broken gates that turn to dust at the slightest touch, sits the ruins city. Imagine if you will that London never stopped with the Gothic era of art, architecture and design, and that city were destroyed.
They walk down the street, and from every broken and battered building. Strange rock like formations seem to line the streets each one baring an inhuman shape of what it used to be, from a woman shielding her child, lovers embracing for one last time, a beloved dog comforting it’s master, and a slave defiantly facing his demise a la the ruins of Pompeii.
At last they reach the ruins of the palace. Windows are blown out and whatever great structure has longs sense been destroyed. No glass remains in the window frames, having long sense turned to dust and ash. They duck as they make there way through cavernous tunnels.
Digory: Wish I had a torch.
Polly: It’s like we’re going through a rail way tunnel.
Digory: Curious…not even any cobwebs.
