(smiles) “You’ll remember the notes. You’ll forget the shiver.”
“The worst part isn’t the hate. The worst part is I’d still choose the pain if it meant I got to choose you.” SCENE 3: “THE CONSULTATION” (Spoken Word Interlude) Setting: A clinical office. Fluorescent lights. A receptionist (robotic, polite) offers a glass of “pH-balanced alkaline water.” Dr. VANCE (50s, calm, predatory gentleness) sits across from Cleo.
"What if you woke up and the scar was gone, but so was the story of how you got it?" I. THE PREMISE OF THE ACT Act 1, titled Eternal Sunshine , serves as the dramatic exposition of a two-act psychological pop-opera. It draws direct thematic inspiration from the 2004 film Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind —specifically the Lacuna procedure (memory erasure)—but recontextualizes it for a modern relationship in the public eye. This act is not about falling in love; it is about falling out of memory . It asks a brutal question: If you could erase every trace of a toxic love, would you be free—or hollow? act 1 eternal sunshine
Explodes in white light. A sound like a glass cathedral shattering. Then—absolute silence. SCENE 5: “ETERNAL SUNSHINE (TITLE TRACK)” Setting: Post-procedure. Cleo wakes up in the same white apartment from Scene 1. The rain has stopped. The sun is rising. She looks at her phone. The text she typed and deleted is gone. She doesn’t remember the fight. She doesn’t remember the love.
A sample of a car commercial jingle from 2019 (their song?) chopped and screwed. A 909 drum machine with a missing snare—off-kilter, yearning. (smiles) “You’ll remember the notes
“The sun is a surgeon this morning / Cutting the fog from the lawn / I don’t know why I’m yawning / Or why I was ever withdrawn / My coffee tastes like a secret / The milk poured itself into art / And I feel a strange kind of peace now / A peace with a missing part.”
The act spans approximately 35–40 minutes. It begins in the cold, sterile aftermath of a breakup and ends at the precipice of a dangerous choice. The sonic palette is intentionally jarring: warm, nostalgic R&B loops degrade into glitching electronics; acoustic guitars are slowly reversed and submerged under water; vocal harmonies arrive fragmented, like memories fighting for air. SCENE 1: “ZERO SUM” (The Opening) Setting: A white, minimalist apartment at 3:00 AM. Rain against a floor-to-ceiling window. The protagonist, CLEO (she/her, 28) , sits alone on a bare mattress. Her phone glows with a text she has typed and deleted seventeen times. Fluorescent lights
She pulls out a business card: SCENE 2: “DOPAMINE GHOST” Setting: A dream sequence / flashback montage. The stage dissolves into soft focus, warm yellows and oranges. A dancer represents THE GHOST (the ex, never fully seen, only a silhouette or a rotating mirror).
Cleo goes for a walk. She passes a street musician playing a song she doesn’t recognize. She starts crying. She cannot explain why. The cello note swells.
She slams the button.
A complete 180. A major key. A simple, beautiful piano arpeggio. Flutes. Warm, analog reverb. But underneath: a low, discordant cello note that never resolves.