Fouette and Football Boots
Ige David & Ogunkoya Praise Joy
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Title: Fouetté & Football
Boots
Logline: A burnt-out ballet prodigy finds his passion reignited by a fiery football star who
is forced into ballet by her mother, leading to a chaotic romance where pirouettes meet
penalty kicks and insults fly faster than a grand jeté.
Characters:
● LEO (18): A national ballet champion. Handsome, bold and confident on stage,
but privately introspective and losing his spark. Hides a shy side beneath a cool
exterior.
● MAYA (16): A brilliant, aggressive striker on her school's top-ranked football
team. Energetic, fiercely loyal, and possesses a Gen Z wit sharp enough to cut
glass. Unapologetically herself.
● MS. ANTOINETTE (50s): The formidable, dramatic, and passionate director of the
prestigious "Grande Rose Academy of Ballet."
● CHLOE (18): Leo's primary ballet rival. Poised, technically perfect, and intensely
jealous of anyone near Leo's level.
● MAYA’S MOM (40s): A woman of sudden, intense, and comedic convictions
DETAILED DESCRIPTION
1. LEO - The Ballet Prodigy
Anime key visual of Leo, an 18-year-old male ballet prodigy. He has
elegant, sharp features, deep hazel eyes, and messy espresso-brown hair
that falls across his forehead. He has a long, lean, and powerfullysculpted dancer's physique, visible in his black ballet tights and a white
fitted shirt. His posture is impeccable but his expression is subtly
distant and brooding, a mix of confidence and hidden shyness. Anime style,
dynamic lighting in a dance studio.
2. MAYA - The Football Striker
Anime key visual of Maya, a 16-year-old female football striker. She has a
lively, expressive face with warm honey-brown eyes and a determined smile.
Her hair is a sun-streaked dirty blonde, pulled back in a messy but
practical ponytail with stray strands. She has a compact, powerful, and
athletic build with strong, defined legs. She wears a football jersey and
is covered in subtle grass stains, holding a soccer ball. She stands with
a confident, grounded stance. Anime style, vibrant and energetic.
3. MS. ANTOINETTE - The Ballet Director
Anime character sheet of Ms. Antoinette, a severe and elegant woman in her
50s. She has a lean, ageless face with sharp cheekbones, piercing
steel-grey eyes, and her silver-streaked dark hair is in a flawless, tight
chignon. She wears a dark, elegant leotard and a flowing wrap skirt. Her
posture is regal and intimidating. Anime style, reminiscent of a strict
but graceful mentor archetype.
4. CHLOE - The Rival
Anime character design of Chloe, an 18-year-old female ballet rival. She
is classically beautiful with porcelain skin, large blue eyes, and
delicate features. Her flawless golden-blonde hair is in a pristine bun.
She has a willowy, slender ballerina's body and wears an expensive,
perfect black leotard and pink tights. Her expression is one of serene,
icy poise and slight jealousy. Anime style, elegant and refined.FOUTTÉ & FOOTBALL BOOTS - ACT 1
SCENE 1
INT. GRANDE ROSE ACADEMY - MAIN STUDIO - DAY
SOUND of gentle piano music (a Chopin Nocturne) plays from a speaker. The soft,
rhythmic thud of pointe shoes and bare feet on a sprung wooden floor.
Sunlight streams through massive windows, illuminating dust motes dancing in the air.
The room is mirrored wall-to-wall. About twenty advanced ballet students, lean and
graceful, are stretched at the barre, finishing a warm-up.
At the center of the room, alone, is LEO (18). He is the picture of a ballet prodigy:
focused, poised, with an effortless grace. He wears simple black tights and a white
t-shirt, both damp with sweat.
MS. ANTOINETTE (50s), elegant and severe in a black leotard and a flowing skirt, claps
her hands softly. The piano music fades.
MS. ANTOINETTE
And... repose. Beautiful, everyone. Now, let's see the adagio from the second act. Leo, if
you please.
The other students move to the sides of the room, sitting or standing to watch. This is a
ritual. Leo takes his place in the center. He closes his eyes for a moment, taking a deep
breath. But it's not a breath of concentration; it's a sigh of routine.
MS. ANTOINETTE
(Nodding to the pianist)
Maestro.
The pianist begins a slow, haunting piece. Leo begins to move. His technique is
flawless. His extensions are impossibly high, his turns are precise, his landings are
silent. Every muscle is under perfect control. He is a machine of beauty.
But his eyes... his eyes are distant. Empty. He is performing the steps, but the soul of
the dance—the yearning, the passion the music calls for—is absent. He is painting by
numbers with a master's hand, but using no color.He finishes with a held arabesque, perfectly balanced, barely breathing. The pose is
stunning.
The other students break into respectful, almost obligatory applause. They have seen
this perfection a thousand times.
Ms. Antoinette walks towards him, her head tilted. She is not applauding.
MS. ANTOINETTE
(Her voice is quiet, carrying through the silent room)
Technically, it is without flaw. Your line is impeccable. Your control... absolute.
She circles him, a critic examining a statue.
MS. ANTOINETTE
But, Leo... where are you?
Leo slowly lowers his leg. He meets her gaze in the mirror, not directly.
LEO
I'm here, Madame.
MS. ANTOINETTE
Are you? I see a brilliant dancer going through the motions. I see a student who has won
every prize, and now dances only to win the next one. But I do not see the boy who used
to dance as if the music was a fire in his bones. Where is the fire, Leo? The... passion?
The word hangs in the air. The other students look down, uncomfortable.
Leo’s confident posture wavers for a fraction of a second. The shy, uncertain boy
beneath the prodigy's armor peeks through. He looks at his reflection—the sweat, the
perfect form, the hollow eyes.
LEO
(Softly)
I don't know, Madame.
He says it with a honesty that surprises even him. He truly doesn't know. The trophies,
the accolades, they feel like weights. The studio that was once his sanctuary now feels
like a gilded cage.Ms. Antoinette studies him, her stern expression softening with a flicker of concern. She
sees it too. The void.
MS. ANTOINETTE
(To the class)
Dismissed. Leo... find it. Or all this...
(She gestures to his perfect form)
...is just noise.
The students begin to chatter softly, gathering their things. Leo remains in the center of
the empty space, alone under the bright lights. He looks at his hands, then back at his
reflection.
The applause has stopped. The music has stopped. All that's left is the silent, nagging
question.
FADE TO BLACK.
END OF ACT 1.
FOUTTÉ & FOOTBALL BOOTS - ACT 2
SCENE 1
EXT. NORTHWOOD HIGH SCHOOL SOCCER FIELD - DAY
SOUND blares in stark contrast to Act 1: the roar of a crowd, the shrill of a referee's
whistle, the thud of a ball being kicked.
The sky is overcast, a light drizzle falling, but the energy on the field is electric. The
grass is muddy, churned up by cleats. This is a semi-final match.
MAYA (16) is a force of nature. Her hair is pulled back in a messy but practical ponytail,
streaks of mud on her cheeks and jersey. She is all explosive motion, shouting
instructions, her eyes locked on the game with an intensity that is almost frightening.
MAYA
(Shouting)
WIDE, JESS! WIDE! I'm making the run!She receives a pass with a deft touch, instantly spinning away from a defender with a
move that is more street-smart agility than technical finesse.
COACH (O.S.)
Use the space, Maya! Take it!
She drives forward, a blur of red and white. Two defenders converge on her. She doesn't
slow down. At the last second, she performs a lightning-fast step-over, a feint that
sends one defender stumbling the wrong way, and then bursts between them with raw
power.
She's clear on goal. The goalie tenses, edging forward.
TEAMMATE (O.S.)
SHOOT!
But Maya takes an extra touch, baiting the goalie to commit. As the goalie dives at her
feet, she casually chips the ball. It arcs beautifully, gracefully, almost like a slow-motion
ballet leap, before dropping into the back of the net.
SOUND of the goal horn and an explosion of cheers from the stands.
Her teammates swarm her, slapping her back, hugging her. Maya’s face breaks into a
huge, unreserved grin, all teeth and joy. She is completely in her element.
MAYA
(Yelling, pumping a fist)
THAT'S HOW WE DO IT! LET'S GO!
The whistle blows for halftime. The teams trudge off the field. Maya grabs a water
bottle, squeezing it into her mouth as she walks past her cheering teammates.
JESS
(Her best friend)
That chip was filthy, Maya! Absolutely disgusting!
MAYA
(Grinning, wiping her mouth)
He bought it like I was selling the last slice of pizza. Too easy.She collapses onto the team bench, stretching her legs out, covered in mud and grass
stains. She looks utterly content, breathing in the smell of wet grass and sweat. This is
her sanctuary. This is where she makes sense.
MAYA
(To Jess, leaning back)
This is it. This is the life. Nothing but the beautiful game, you know?
Jess nods in agreement. For Maya, in this moment, nothing is missing. The passion that
Leo has lost is burning right here, bright and fierce on a muddy soccer field.
FADE TO BLACK.
END OF ACT 2.
FOUTTÉ & FOOTBALL BOOTS - ACT 3
SCENE 1
INT. MAYA'S HOUSE - KITCHEN - LATER THAT DAY
SOUND of a washing machine churning, the clatter of cleats being dropped by the back
door.
The cozy, lived-in kitchen is a stark contrast to the muddy field. Maya, now showered
and in sweats, raids the refrigerator with the ferocity of a predator. She pulls out cold
chicken, orange juice, and a tub of yogurt.
Her MOM (40s), vibrant and prone to sudden, intense hyper-fixations, sits at the kitchen
island. She's glued to her tablet, watching a documentary. On the screen, a prima
ballerina in a white swan costume executes a series of breathtaking, ethereal fouettés.
MOM
(Without looking up)
There's leftover lasagna, honey. Don't eat all that cold chicken, you'll get a stomachache.MAYA
(Mouth full)
Carbs are for pre-game, Mom. This is post-game fuel. My muscles are screaming.
Maya leans against the counter, devouring the chicken. She glances at the tablet.
MAYA
Ugh, ballet. So much standing on your toes. Looks painful.
MOM
(Her eyes wide with fascination)
It's not pain, Maya, it's art. Look at the strength in her legs! The discipline!
The documentary cuts to a slow-motion shot of the ballerina's powerful calves and
thighs flexing as she leaps.
The Mom freezes. She hits pause. The ballerina is suspended mid-air, muscles defined
like a anatomy chart. The Mom's gaze slowly drifts from the screen to Maya's own legs,
propped up on a chair, still muscular and defined from her game.
A look of cosmic, life-altering revelation dawns on her face.
MOM
(Whispering)
Oh. My. Goodness.
MAYA
What? Did you finally beat level 347 on your candy game?
MOM
(Slamming her hand on the island)
Maya! Your calves!
Maya jumps, nearly dropping her yogurt.
MAYA
What about them? They work. They help me run fast and kick things. It's their whole job.
MOM
No, no, no! Look!
(She points frantically between the tablet and Maya's legs)
The power in your thighs when you take a shot! The explosive force in your calves whenyou jump for a header! It’s not for football... It’s for ballet! It’s your destiny! I’ve been
blind!
Maya stares at her mother as if she's just announced she's moving to Mars to become a
beekeeper.
MAYA
Mom. Are you having a stroke? Should I call 911? The only plié I know is when I’m tying
my cleats. My "destiny" is the state finals, not prancing around in a tutu.
MOM
(Waving a dismissive hand)
Pish-posh, soccer! That's just a phase! This is a calling! I saw it in a documentary! It's
scientifically perfect! Your body type! The power-to-grace ratio!
MAYA
The only "ratio" I care about is our win-loss ratio, which is currently fire, by the way.
You've lost the plot. Did you inhale too much oven cleaner?
(Roast #1: Target - Mom's Sanity)
MOM
(Clasping her hands together, a dreamy look in her eyes)
We need to find you a studio. A good one. Oh! I've heard of the Grande Rose Academy!
It's prestigious! I'm going to call first thing tomorrow!
MAYA
Mom, no! You can't just watch a Netflix documentary and redesign my life! This is
unhinged behavior!
But her Mom is already typing furiously into her phone, searching for the academy's
number, a woman possessed.
MAYA
(To herself, grabbing her food and retreating)
Great. First a yellow card for a rough tackle, now my mom wants to send me to ballet
prison. This is the worst hat-trick ever.
She shakes her head, heading for the safety of her room, utterly unaware that her life is
about to be turned upside down.
FADE TO BLACK. END OF ACT 3.FOUTTÉ & FOOTBALL BOOTS - ACT 4
SCENE 1
INT. GRANDE ROSE ACADEMY - MS. ANTOINETTE'S OFFICE - DAY
The office is a temple to ballet. Framed posters of historic performances line the walls.
A glass case holds worn-out pointe shoes from famous dancers. The air smells of old
wood and ambition.
MAYA sits slumped in a plush velvet chair, looking profoundly out of place in her hoodie
and jeans. Her arms are crossed, a defensive scowl plastered on her face.
Her MOM, however, is perched on the edge of her seat, leaning forward towards MS.
ANTOINETTE, who sits behind a large, ornate desk, steepling her fingers.
MOM
...and her explosive power! It's not just kicking a ball, it's kinetic potential! I saw it in a
documentary! Her physique is a diamond in the rough! She just needs the right... cutter.
MAYA
(Muttering under her breath)
I'm not a rock, I'm a person. A person who wants to be on a field right now.
Ms. Antoinette’s gaze, sharp and assessing, shifts from the passionate mother to the
sullen daughter. She doesn't seem impressed, but she is intrigued.
MS. ANTOINETTE
"Kinetic potential." An interesting phrase, Mrs. Jones. We typically look for students who
have... a calling. Not those who are... drafted.
MOM
Oh, it's a calling! It's just a calling she hasn't answered yet! It's like a phone ringing in
another room! We just have to help her find the phone!
MAYA
The phone is broken. And on fire.
(Roast #2: Target - The Situation)
Just then, the office door is slightly ajar, and LEO walks past, on his way to the studio.
He’s in practice clothes, a towel around his neck. He overhears the commotion andpauses, peering in. His eyes land on Maya, slouched in the chair with an expression of
pure, undiluted misery. A faint, amused smirk touches his lips.
LEO
(Quietly, to himself, but loud enough to be heard)
A jock in ballet slippers? This should be amusing. I give her one day before she breaks
something. Probably the barre.
Maya’s head snaps up. Her eyes, which were glazed with boredom, now sharpen into
laser-focused points. The scowl vanishes, replaced by a look of cool, analytical
mockery. She sizes him up in a single glance—the perfect posture, the condescending
smirk, the towel draped just so.
MAYA
(Her voice is a dry, deadpan counterpoint to his smirk)
Well, well. Talk about a plot twist. The prince charming has a resting ballet face. Bet
your personality is as stiff as your turnout. Do you always listen in on private
conversations, or am I just special?
(Roast #3: Target - Leo's Demeanor & Manners)
Leo’s smirk falters. He’s used to awe or rivalry, not this immediate, precise dismantling.
He’s momentarily speechless.
Ms. Antoinette, however, watches this exchange with a newfound glint in her eye. The
girl has fire. A chaotic, unrefined fire, but fire nonetheless. She looks from the prodigy in
the doorway, momentarily thrown, to the football player who just verbally disarmed him.
MS. ANTOINETTE
(A decisive nod)
Very well.
She stands, addressing Maya’s Mom, but her eyes are on Maya.
MS. ANTOINETTE
A one-month trial. She will attend beginner-intermediate classes three times a week. I
make no promises. But... I am curious to see this "kinetic potential" for myself.
The Mom beams in victory. Maya looks like she’s just been sentenced to hard labor.
MOM
Oh, thank you, Madame! You won't regret it!MAYA
(To Leo, as she stands to leave)
Try not to strain anything looking so superior. Wouldn't want you to pull a muscle
smugging.
(Roast #4: Target - Leo's Attitude)
She brushes past him in the doorway, not giving him a chance to reply. Leo watches her
go, his expression a mix of irritation and genuine, piqued curiosity. The empty feeling
from the studio is, for a moment, forgotten. Replaced by annoyance, and the faintest
spark of something else.
LEO
(To himself, frowning)
Who is that?
FADE TO BLACK.
END OF ACT 4.
FOUTTÉ & FOOTBALL BOOTS - ACT 5
SCENE 1
INT. GRANDE ROSE ACADEMY - MAIN STUDIO - DAY
The beginner-intermediate class is a hive of activity. Young dancers in various states of
grace and awkwardness are scattered across the room. The air is less intense than in
Leo's advanced class, but the pressure to be perfect is still palpable.
MAYA stands near the back, a stark contrast to the sea of black leotards and pink tights.
She wears her football shorts under a sheer ballet skirt she was forced to buy, and her
brand-new, stiff-looking ballet slippers. She looks like she’s wearing a costume for a play
she never auditioned for.
The instructor, a young, earnest man named MR. DAVID, claps his hands.MR. DAVID
Alright, everyone! At the barre, please. We’ll begin with pliés in first position. Remember,
heels together, toes out. It’s a rotation from the hip, not the knee.
Maya grips the barre like it’s a lifeline on a sinking ship. She attempts the position. Her
feet form a vague V-shape, but it’s weak, unstable. Her body is coiled like a spring, her
stance too wide, too aggressive. It looks less like a ballet position and more like she’s
bracing for a tackle.
MR. DAVID
Gentle, Maya. It’s a bend, not a squat. Soft knees.
She tries again, forcing her knees out. The movement is jerky, unnatural. A few students
nearby try to hide their smiles. CHLOE, who is in this class to "perfect her basics,"
watches from the front with undisguised contempt. She executes a perfect, fluid plié,
her back ramrod straight.
CHLOE
(Whispering to her friend)
Looks like she’s trying to stomp out a fire. A very, very small fire.
Her friend giggles. Maya’s ears turn red, but she keeps her eyes fixed on the mirror, jaw
clenched.
SCENE 2
The class moves to the center for simple port de bras (arm movements). Mr. David
demonstrates a gentle, flowing motion.
MR. DAVID
Arms as if you’re holding a large beach ball. Soft, graceful.
Maya’s arms move with the rigid, purposeful energy of a traffic conductor. Her "beach
ball" looks like she’s heaving a medicine ball. Her focus is so intense she’s practically
glaring at her own reflection.
It’s at this moment that LEO slips into the studio. He leans against the doorframe, arms
crossed, his advanced class having ended. He watches the scene, his earlier
amusement returning. He sees Maya’s struggle, her raw, un-channeled power. A faint,
curious smile plays on his lips. It’s not a cruel smile; it’s the smile of a scientist
observing a fascinating new specimen.Maya catches his reflection in the mirror. Her eyes narrow.
MR. DAVID
Maya, your arms... think of swans. Gentle swans.
MAYA
(Without breaking eye contact with Leo's reflection)
Sorry, Mr. David. I’m more familiar with the mating rituals of geese. They’re a lot more
aggressive. And loud.
A few students snicker. Mr. David looks confused.
Leo’s smile widens just a fraction. He raises an eyebrow, challenging her.
MAYA
(Louder, directly addressing Leo's reflection)
What? Never seen a person with functional quadriceps before? Or are you just admiring
the view from your high horse? Must be nice up there, judging the peasants.
(Roast #5: Target - Leo's Perceived Superiority)
The entire class goes silent. Mr. David looks startled. Chloe looks utterly scandalized.
Leo, however, doesn’t look offended. He pushes off the doorframe, his smile turning into
a genuine, if small, grin.
LEO
Functional, yes. Applicable? We’ll see.
He gives a slight, infuriatingly graceful nod and exits the studio, leaving Maya fuming,
the entire class staring at her, and the distinct feeling that a war has just been declared.
FADE TO BLACK.
END OF ACT 5.
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