Happy Monday, crime buffs. And how are my little minions doing today? A little hungover? Or insanely chipper and eager to greet the grey, cold, drizzly day? Either way, you've got no excuse not to check out the latest flaming hot slab of hardboiled pulp awaing you at That Killing Feeling ...
Screened an interesting one last night. That remake of KISS OF DEATH made in '95 with Nic Cage, David Caruso and Sam Jackson. (Those of you who have been paying attention -- yes, I've been having a bit of a Jackson film festival.) Good flick -- not great, but damn good. I found David Caruso to be a bit -- self-conscious -- but he was still good as a hood being forced by the cops to rat out his brothers in crime. The problem with this flick is -- it had a happy ending. A noir with a happy ending?! What the F? Now I need to re-screen the original with Victor Mature -- nice thing about having a terrible memory is not remembering the endings to old films. Saw this one a couple years ago, but I seem to remember it has a typical bleak, noir finish. Will check it out again and report back to you ...
I guess that's Hollywood for you.
Onto today's episode from Wilshire Boulevard. It doesn't get much darker than this. Carrie Love, having beaten the shit out of Paul Martune, who burned down her house ... is now in jail.
INT. MUNICIPAL BUILDING - CELL BLOCK - NIGHT
A row of cells. Lit by diffused light. The standard institutional decay.
Angry voices. Mad voices. Drunk voices echo hollowly against the brick and linoleum.
INT. JAIL CELL - CONTINUOUS
Carrie sits on the lower bed. Filthy, torn clothes.
Blood on her hands. Head between her knees.
Beyond in shock.
I was spinning out of control.
The raging fire burned in my eyes, over and over.
Closing them only made it worse.
I saw Martune’s ugly face. Taunting me.
Then I saw red, and --
Here I am.She slowly, in agony, gets up.
Goes to the sink. Turns on the faucet.
SPLASHES cold water in her face.
Looks in the mirror.
CARRIE (V.O.) (CONT'D)
Been awhile since I was booked and fingerprinted.
Nothing like a full body cavity search to brighten your day.
I hope I didn’t kill him. That’s the last thing I need.
I still owe my lawyer five K for the last DUI he fixed --
MALE VOICE (O.C.)
How you doin’?
stands at the bars. Spooked.
Look who the cat --
(starts to lose it)
Bernie, I, I -- blacked out --
I’m sorry you lost your house, Carrie.
Martune, is he --
He’s alive, yes. He’s at UCLA Medical Center.
Ran a check on him. Turns out he has a couple of priors.
Mail fraud. Embezzlement. Got off each time.
His father is some big-shot attorney downtown.
No -- arson?
You don’t think he’d be stupid enough to -
I don’t know what to think anymore.
(over his shoulder)
You’re -- letting me go?
An angry-looking BLACK GUARD comes to the cell door.
Sticks his key in. Unlocks it with a CLANG. Opens it.
Your friends posted bail. Don’t get me wrong,
I’d love to keep you in here. Keep you outta trouble.
Carrie shuffles out. Stops. Weak grin.
Hey. Trouble is my business.
EXT. MUNICIPAL BUILDING - PARKING LOT - MOMENTS LATER
Landon and Jenny sit in Carrie’s Olds.
Landon, behind the wheel. Jenny, in the back seat.
Shivering in short sleeves.
Japan’s brittle, decayed cover of The Velvet Underground's
ALL TOMORROW’S PARTIES softly plays on the car stereo.
Carrie comes up to the passenger side. Dazed. Lost.
Carrie. Are you okay?
You came, too?
I -- don’t have a ride.
And I wanted to see if you were okay.
Thanks, guys --
She walks around the car.
Gets in beside Landon. Stares.
Let’s go get you cleaned up.
That would be -- nice.
(looks at her watch)
We’ve got just enough time
before I have to leave for the airport.
You’re -- leaving, too?
Didn’t I tell you?
I got a part in the new Scorsese flick.
‘Sleazy B-movie actress No. 2.’
PUSH IN ON Carrie. Weak smile.
Glad to see you weren’t -- typecast.