Bondage Barbie

It's Friday, crimebusters ... and you know what time that is. Time to shake off your work-week blues, clean your favorite piece, and head out to the shooting range to blast away your blues. And be sure to pack some extra ammo, cause this gal's gonna blow your mind ... not to mention your target.

Screened an odd one last night. Brian DePalma's SNAKE EYES, with a newly-minted mainstream action superstar Nic Cage. S trange film. Liked it, but it was a little ... convoluted. Gary Sinise was great as a ... oh, wait a minute ... don't wanna spoil the big surprise. But he was great. Interesting device that DePalma has used before -- show a crime, then go back and re-watch it from different perspectives, each one revealing another piece of information. Very slick script by David Koepp -- almost too slick. Cage YELLING his lines in the first ten minutes ... was almost too much, but then it settles down and the story starts to cook. My favorite part of the flick was the always yummy Carla Guigino as the femme fatale. Why is she not a big star? Gorgeous, funny, vulnerable ... my god. She'd make a perfect Carrie Love.

Speaking of Carrie Love. Let's dive into today's little gem from WILSHIRE BOULEVARD.


DISSOLVE TO:

A SMALL TELEVISION SET
in a tiny motel room.
Seen from the next room.

COCKY, SMILING ANCHOR (V.O.)--
linking the murder weapon to a Ms. Carrie Love,
36, former Santa Monica homicide detective,
now a private investigator --

CARRIE’S FACE
fills the screen. Damn, she looks angry.
But cute.

COCKY, SMILING ANCHOR (V.O.) (CONT'D)
If you see this woman, call your local precinct immediately.
And stay away. This is one dangerous lady.

CARRIE (V.O.)
Lady, my ass.

INT. SHITTY MOTEL ROOM - CONTINUOUS
Carrie stands in front of the bathroom mirror.
A towel around her shoulders.
Her hair is now bleached-blonde white.

CARRIE
Brigitte Nielson, eat your heart out.

She grabs a pair of hair clippers.
Holds it to her head.

CARRIE (CONT’D)
Time to get all Britney Spears on their asses.

And starts CHOPPING OFF her long, beautiful hair.

CARRIE (V.O.) (CONT'D)
Maybe I sleep around.
But that doesn’t make me a bad person.
Sue me. I was drawn that way.
I didn’t fucking KILL anyone.
Okay, maybe I like a cocktail now and then,
but I’m not a fucking MURDERER.
And okay, so I like to bend the rules a little.
But that’s no reason to FRAME me.
(beat)
So fuck all of you.
You don’t want me around, FINE.
I’ll buy myself a one-way ticket to Splitsville.
Do the disappearing tango on your asses.
I’ll go to Frisco, do a Dashiel Hammett.
Find a Continental Opp-ortunity.

She’s done. Hair in blocky, spiky chunks.
She slides on shades. Sneers at her reflection.

CARRIE (V.O.) (CONT'D)
But first, time for the eulogy.

EXT./INT. LA BREA AVENUE - PHILLIE’S HUMMER - AT THAT MOMENT
Phillie drives. Peers over at Chinette, staring out the side window.
Pensive. Dabs her eyes with a tissue.

CHINETTE
Big surprise?
I’m not sure I’m in the mood for a --
big surprise.

PHILLIE
Nonsense.
Nothing is too good for my little whippoorwill.
(sees something)
We just have to make one quick stop.

THE MOTEL STARLET
comes into view. A real dive.
Irony be thy name.

THE HUMMER
pulls into the parking lot. Stops.

PHILLIE
turns to Chinette.

PHILLIE (CONT’D)
Now wait right here.
I’ll be back in two shakes of a lamb’s tail --

CHINETTE
Okay.

He kisses her. Gets out.
POPS open the rear door.
Grabs a long, rolled carpet wrapped with duct tape.
Bloodstained. Hefts it onto his shoulder.
Looks up at the sign.

PHILLIE
The Motel Starlet.
You can’t make this shit up.

Phillie looks around. Coast is clear.
He carries the body around the back of the building.
TOSSES it in a dumpster.

PHILLIE (CONT’D)
And that’s a wrap --

EXT. VACANT LOT - RUINS - MOMENTS LATER
Carrie stands in the driveway behind what once was her home.
We can’t see her eyes behind the shades.
But we know they’re bleeding, black with pain.
She gingerly walks through the rubble.

CARRIE (V.O.)
I don’t know what compelled me
to visit my own, private ground zero.
I was inexplicably drawn to what would rip me apart.
Like a gambler to the table, a junkie to the needle --
(beat)
This was my first real home on my own.
After I split with Bernie,
I combed the beach until I found that
hundred-year-old bungalow on
one of the prettiest walkway streets.
Then I painstakingly decorated it from top to bottom.
Filled it with what gave me pleasure.
I discovered a creativity I didn’t know I had.
It was my palace, a den of color, joy --

Carrie bends over.
Picks up a burned, ruined Barbie.

CARRIE (V.O.) (CONT'D)
People asked me how the Barbie thing got started.
(she tosses it, keeps walking)
When I first moved here from New York,
I knew exactly two people in town.
And they both lived forty-five minutes away.
I soon learned that everyone lived forty-five minutes away.
(beat)
So I was in the supermarket my first night
here buying a few necessities,
feeling a little alone,
and they had these Barbies on sale there at the register.
What you call an ‘impulse purchase.’
I thought, ten bucks each, what the fuck, so I got two.
The checkout clerk said, ‘that’s sweet, you have kids?’
When I shook my head no,
she looked at me like I was some kind of pervert --
and I knew I had found my calling.
That night I set them up in my kitchen and on my bar,
and never looked back.
(beat)
Of course it wasn’t until a year later
when my porn star girlfriend tied one up,
stuck a ball gag in her mouth,
and named her ‘Bondage Barbie.’
(beat)
That was when things REALLY started getting interesting --