Screened THE LONG KISS GOODNIGHT last night, and boy was it a great night. The kiss wasn't bad, either. Fab crime/spy story about Geena Davis's amnesiac assassin. Great, great screenplay by Shane Black (LETHAL WEAPON, THE LAST BOY SCOUT, KISS KISS BANG BANG), a personal fave. Samuel L. Jackson delivered the goods as usual -- and it was fun to see him as kind of loser -- who gets his shit together. Shame it didn't do well at the BO. One of the last Mike DeLuca films before he got the heave-ho. I was working at New Line back then, and we all were freaked out when he got the ax on 'Black Thursday.' (Or was it Tuesday?) Anyway, it's a great, smart popcorn flick. And yes, Gina is fab hot when she kicks major ass.
Onto today's joint from WILSHIRE BOULEVARD. Carrie and Felina have left the Clit Club after killing that rude hispanic gentleman ... and they're now motoring in Carrie's '68 Olds convertible ... on their way to the beach ...
EXT. SANTA MONICA FREEWAY - NIGHT
Carrie drives her monster 68 Olds, top down.
Hair slicked back. Leather jacket covers
the remnants of the evening’s excitement.
Felina lays back, feet up on the dashboard.
On the car stereo, the ghostly fuzz-reverb surf guitar
of The Raveonettes’ ALLY WALK WITH ME echoes ominously.
(looks at Felina, pensive)
I had fun tonight. Despite the bloodshed.
C’mon love, cheer up. I’ll be back. For Christmas break.
I’ve got spies to catch. Terrorists to seduce.
Double agents to lick --
She leans over. Sucks Carrie on the neck.
The car SWERVES.
Whoah, easy on the vampire bite.
We’re almost there.
I want to suck your --
Hey, I could give you head --
(shakes her head)
Slippery when wet, doll --
your tongue could cause a five-car pileup.
Why don’t you open the champagne?
Keep your hands busy.
She reaches into the back seat,
pulls out a bottle of Moet.
Starts shaking it maniacally.
What are you doing? Your gonna --
I’m gonna christen the love boat!
Felina unties, pulls off the wire around the cork.
Wait, don’t! You’ll --
But it’s too late. Felina POPS the cork,
and a geyser of champagne WHOOSHES out,
SPRAYING both of them.
Felina takes a big chug.
Passes it to Carrie.
Relax. You’re in rubber. No stains.
(takes the bottle)
Bitch. Now I’m soaked.
(laughs, takes a chug)
You are one crazy frill.
And you love it.
(raises the bottle)
Drive on, MacDuff.
Take me to your sand castle.
EXT. VENICE BEACH - NIGHT
The women sit before a campfire.
Huddled together under a blanket.
The remnants of a picnic dinner lay strewn about.
Bottle of wine chilling.
I have this awful feeling -- you’re not coming back.
Don’t be daft. I’ve never met anyone like you.
That’s what I’m afraid of --
Careful, it’s gonna burn.
I LIKE it burned -- to a crisp.
Black and crunchy.
I’m a golden-brown kinda gal myself --
Soft and --
Hey. You’re crying. Baby --
I’m NOT crying. I’m --
MALE VOICE (O.S.)
Gonna give us your fucking wallets.
A NASTY SURF PUNK
stands across the campfire.
Wielding a switchblade.
A sickly, FILTHY BEACH JUNKIE,
next to him, waves a broken beer bottle.
NASTY SURF PUNK
Toss ‘em over, NOW.
FILTHY BEACH JUNKIE
And your boom box, bitch.
NASTY SURF PUNK
Maybe we should fuck ‘em first.
The girls WHIP OUT their guns.
The assholes FREEZE.
I’ve got stinky. You get ugly.
Which is which?
Flip a coin.
(at them, smooth)
Get your white trash crust-infected asses
THE FUCK outta here.
Before we BLOW OFF your bloody DINGLE-BERRIES.
They scuttle away. The girls smile.
Lower their guns. Kiss.
Let’s blow this sand dune.
The bungalow awaits.
Did that -- ruin the mood?
PUSH IN ON Carrie.
Eyes burning with mischief.
Actually, it kinda started one.