Sunday, June 7, 2009
What Doesn't Kill You
It's Sunday, crimestoppers. A day of rest? Not for this chick. Dead bodies are piling up -- and we haven't even gotten to the middle of the story. So kick back, light 'em if you got 'em, crack open a cold one, and get your butts IN HERE ...
Screened an old favorite of mine last night -- BARB WIRE, starring the glorious Pam Anderson. Back then, she still had the 'Lee' at the end. Ha. Poor Tommy. Buh-bye. Now I know the critics panned this when it was released, and it didn't do much at the box office, but you really should give this one a chance. I saw it opening night in Santa Monica on the Third Street Promenade, and the packed house LOVED IT. It's based on a comic book and the movie looks and acts like one. Pam can't act her way out of an air sickness bag, but that's not the point. It's just big, stupid, violent, cartoonish fun. She zips around wearing a leather corset on a motorcycle, blasting away all the bad guys with humongous guns. What else do you need?
Onto today's sequence from WILSHIRE BOULEVARD. The plot thickens. Then congeals. Onto the fun ...
INT. YAVO/FLENDER FILMS - FLENDER’S OFFICE - MORNING
Fleming sits behind Harvey’s big desk. Feet up. On the phone.
Listening. Twirling the cord with his finger.
I understand, Jackie.
But we have one show in prep,
one in principal, and two in post.
Somebody has to steer the ship,
and since I’ve been first mate for over ten years --
FEMALE VOICE (O.C.)
Love the nautical references.
stands in the doorway. Hands on hips. Livid.
Now get THE FUCK out of my husband’s office.
(into the phone)
(SLAMS it down)
Gay. How are you?
I’ll be fine when you GET THE FUCK out of here.
I’m sorry, I thought I should --
You thought? You THOUGHT?
That’s the problem right there. You tried to THINK.
Now go back to your work station
and answer the fucking phones.
(as he leaves, dejected)
Okay, Mrs. -- uh, Gay.
And get me a Perrier while you’re at it.
Lime. In a cup. With a fuckload of ice.
And then get Variety on the phone.
I’ve gotta statement to make.
Modi walks in. Looks jittery. Spooked.
Gay. What are you doing here?
In -- Harvey’s office?
It’s my office now.
Yavo was killed last night, shot in the head.
Yavo’s -- dead?
Someone has to -- steer the ship.
We should account for where we were.
Shhh. Not here.
A voice BLEATS on the desktop intercom.
Gay? There are a couple of --
detectives here to see you.
(into the intercom)
Bring them on back, Jenny -- thanks.
Gay and Modi exchange looks.
INT. HARVEY FLENDER’S OFFICE - AT THAT MOMENT
Bernie and Aya stand in the doorway.
Gay swivels in the large, leather desk chair. Sips Perrier.
Modi perches on the couch. Bright, scary-beaming face.
Sips his coffee.
I’ve already been through this twice
with a couple different officers.
Is this really necessary?
Just a few routine questions, ma’am.
Detective, my husband was MURDERED,
and I think you should be out there trying to find his KILLER --
instead of badgering me with the same questions
over and over again.
Bernie nods slowly. Fishes out his card. Hands it to Gay.
Call me if you remember anything else.
Aya pulls out her card.
Slides it onto the desk.
Call me if you need someone to talk to.
I have a psychology degree.
I’ve done a lot of grief counseling.
And don’t leave town.
Leave town? I have a funeral to plan.
A eulogy to write, a -- a --
She breaks down. Starts crying.
INT. JENNY’S APARTMENT - AT THAT MOMENT
Jenny stands at the front door.
Shrugs into her jacket.
Smiles wanly at Carrie,
looking out the windows, back to us.
Just make yourself at home.
I’m sorry, but I have to go to work.
Modi, my boss -- can be --
An asshole. So you said.
Everything’s gonna be okay.
You can stay as long as you like.
Help yourself to what’s in the fridge.
When I get back, I’ll fix us a nice dinner.
Thanks. You’re really --
Jenny walks over to Carrie.
Leans up. Kisses her. They hug.
I can feel storm clouds gathering.
You better be careful.
Careful? Careful of what?
They say what doesn’t kill you
makes you stronger.
Kill who? Me?
PUSH IN ON Carrie.