Welcome back to the scene of the crime, kids. Time to get your spy thriller groove on. Got hot chicks with submachineguns, black ops studs with a little something extra in their pants, and a hell of a lot of firepower, right here ... on NOWHERE GIRL.
Screened a real pip last night, Jason Statham in THE BANK JOB, directed by Roger Donaldson, and also starring the delictable Safron Burrows. Terrific true story of a secret government plot by the British Royals to cover the dalliances of Princess Margaret caught on film in flagrente, and used by a drug dealer/pimp/Malcom X-wannabe for blackmail. Their solution? Get a bunch of slimy thugs to rob the bank. And they succeed ... with suprising results. Great film, and proof that Jason can act. Methinks he might have the stuff to become the new Steve McQueen ...
Onto today's rip-roaring page-turner from NOWHERE GIRL ...
First up, Homeland Security agent April Stree is hot on the trail of April Street, but still has time to get chewed out by her boss ...
And meanwhile, stripper Cherry Nation has escaped to Peeler's Mardo's joint in Silverlake, where they are about to have an unexpected visitor ...
INT. TAXI CAB - MOVING - NIGHT
April drives down city streets.
Talks into her hands-free.
I TOLD you.
Someone got there before I did.
INT. INTELLIGENCE OFFICE - CONTINUOUS
SLEDGE CRAFTON (50), beefy ex-Marine,
now gone to seed, leans toward the speakerphone on his desk.
Strokes the ugly scar that crisscrosses his face.
You really fucked this up, Street. GODDAMIT.
Hey! The traffic was FUCKED on the 405.
And I was ON TIME.
The fucker was EARLY,
and he gave the package to SOMEONE ELSE.
Another heartbreaker? Like yourself?
Look, chief. We did it one time.
It was a mistake. I was grieving --
Didn’t you ever wonder why I took you on?
(BANGS on the desk)
A fucking STUNT WOMAN with NO experience?
But you said I --
I fucking said what you wanted to hear.
I wanted to get in your pants from day one.
And against all odds,
I molded you into one of our top operatives.
For your information, BOSS,
I’m right now approaching the house
of the person who has the package.
I WAS calling in for back up.
But never mind. I’ll handle it myself.
You can go FUCK your rules of procedure.
Now THAT’S the feisty lass I groomed for greatness.
You get that case, AND make the delivery,
I MIGHT JUST consider keeping you on.
PUSH IN ON April.
Wow. Does that mean I can still come to the company picnic?
EXT. SILVERLAKE STREET - BUNGALOW - NIGHT
A decrepit pre-war bungalow on a street with similar small houses.
Classic cars and bicycles dot the landscape.
Peeler opens the front door, ushers Cherry in.
It’s not much, but I call it hovel.
INT. MARDO’S JOINT - CONTINUOUS
Classic hipster combination of Ikea,
found threadbare furniture.
Ironic art. Plants. Pizza boxes.
Giant plasma screen, though.
And a decent stereo.
Cherry walks around. Inspecting.
Not bad for a guy. Not filthy.
(stops, looks at him)
I’m not fucking you, you know.
I wasn’t -- thinking you --
You want me to fix you a chai latte?
Gag me. You gotta beer?
Peeler wanders into the kitchen.
Cherry goes to the couch. Plops down.
Puts the briefcase next to her.
Pulls out the envelope. RIPS it open.
Pulls out the instructions. Reads.
Peeler comes in with two large bottles of beer.
(hands one to her)
Here you go --
(takes it, looks)
What the hell kinda beer IS this?
Flat tire. Microbrew.
I bet you listen to a lot of Beck.
(holds up the piece of paper)
We gotta take the briefcase to this address.
But I don’t where it is.
Let me see.
She hands it over.
Peeler reads it.
Where is it?
Dude. That’s in the Hollywood hills.
A FIGURE IN BLACK appears in the window.
Will you go with me?
I don’t -- have a car. It’s in the shop.
MALE VOICE (O.C.)
That’s okay. I do.
Walks into the room.
Holding a sawed-off shotgun.
You should lock your front door.
Open invitation for dangerous criminals.