Having a hard time returning to the 9-to-5 grind after the holiday festivities? Well, I've got a late-breaking bulletin for you, hot off the press, cold as ice, ready and waiting for you in NOWHERE GIRL ... get your motor runnin', indeed ...
Screened an interesting failure last night. BLOW, starring Johnny Depp, with an amazing supporting cast including Penelope Cruz, Ray Liotta, Rachel Griffiths, Paul Rubens (!) and Franke Potenta. It's the true story of Boston George, the first and biggest coke dealer in the states during the 70's. The first half is a rollicking rollercoast ride of drug smuggling, guns, hot chicks and good times at the beach ... but, during the second half, when things start to unravel, things get a little squishy, sentimental, and mawkish. GOODFELLAS handled this kind of downward spiral brilliantly ... but BLOW just kinda drags its ass up until the rather lame, not-so-surprising ending. One gun up ... because my man Depp is amazing as usual. A curiousity, and not terrible. Just not great ...
Onto today's joint from NOWHERE GIRL, where we're setting the stage for another big action sequence (sorry, that'll be up tomorrow). First up, the terrorist's hostage keeps secretly calling his private security firm, who is confused about the lack of a message ... and then stripper on the run Cherry Nation holds a heavy metal band at gun point ...
INT. BELL AIR SECURITY HEADQUARTERS - NIGHT
A maze of cubicles, mostly empty.
A pair of FEMALE DISPATCHERS sit
side-by side at adjacent work stations.
KANEESHA (35), a big, beautiful African American
woman with long, curled nails turns toward her coworker.
I just got another one.
MIRASOL (25), a hot, young Latina takes a sip of coffee.
Another call from the same number.
But they don’t say nothin’.
They’ve called four times in the last half-hour.
Where they at?
Caller ID says they be in da Hollywood Hills.
Maybe he be havin’ a heart attack or somethin’.
Maybe it’s his kid playin’ a practical joke.
I been on this job over ten years,
and I think I KNOW when it’s a real call.
I’m just sayin.’
(looks at her monitor)
Shit. There it is again.
Fuck it. I’m sendin’ a car.
EXT. RANCH HOUSE GARAGE - NIGHT - AT THAT MOMENT
Cherry, Peeler and Stan walk up to the door.
The music grows LOUDER.
Big, thick slabs of heavy metal.
Sounds kinda like Sabbath.
Let me do the talking.
INT. GARAGE - CONTINUOUS
Small and dark, with soundproofing on the walls and ceiling.
Four HAIRY MUSICIANS, all early 20’s, are rocking out
at a DEAFENING VOLUME.
Meet SKULL BONG.
The LEAD SINGER faces a mirror,
singing to his own image.
Practicing his moves.
And when Satan sings, the blood will flow,
and the HELL-MOUTH will open for YOU --
The side door OPENS. In walks Cherry, Peeler and Stan.
The band doesn’t notice, lost in it’s dark reverie.
Cherry walks over to the circuit breaker.
SHUTS OFF the power.
The music DIES. Lights go OFF.
LEAD SINGER (V.O.) (CONT'D)
DUDE. What the FUCK.
BASS PLAYER (V.O.)
I told you not to turn the Marshall all the way up.
It’s Satan, dude. And he’s PISSED.
The lights SNAP back on.
Cherry points her gun at the band.
Whoah. BABE alert.
Sorry to interrupt the concert, boys --
but I’ve been cuffed to a suitcase nuke,
my car just died, my ex-lover, the CIA
and Homeland security are hot on my trail,
and I gotta go visit some
Middle-Eastern terrorists up the hill.
(CLICKS the hammer)
So which one of you Ozzy-wanabes is gonna be my tour guide?