3781 lines
116 KiB
Plaintext
3781 lines
116 KiB
Plaintext
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Title: _Baby Driver_
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Credit: Written by
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Author: Edgar Wright
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Notes: 1st Draft Revisions - August 15th 2014
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"You are the music while the music lasts."
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**T.S. Eliot**
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"I was born one dark gray morn, with music coming in my ears..."
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**Paul Simon**
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*Every scene in this film is driven by music.*
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===
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EXT. PARKING LOT - EARLY MORNING #1#
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A strip mall in the San Fernando Valley.
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A front wheel of a car pulls slowly into view.
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A curb reads 'Short Stay. 5 mins only.'
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INT. CAR - CONTINUOUS #2#
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Play is pressed on an iPod Classic. A rock track starts up.
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It's very loud. It's awesome.
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**'Bellbottoms' by the Jon Spencer Blues Explosion.**
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*On high strings and a guitar stab we see the driver.*
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Young, baby faced. Short cropped hair. He wears mostly black. Sports cheap gas station shades. This is BABY.
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We can't see his eyes, but his blank expression seems pretty stoic. He listens to the track, stares out the windshield.
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*On a 2nd guitar stab* we see a beefy (30s) tough guy in shotgun. This is GRIFF. He too wears shades, black business clothes.
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*On a 3rd stab* we see another black clad gentleman. (40s) He's handsome, but looks like he parties too hard. This is BUDDY.
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*On a final stab* we see the last shades wearing black clad passenger, a younger lady (20s) with her hair up. This is DARLING. There's a hint of trash beneath her business clothes.
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*The high strings crescendo.* Griff flings his door wide open.
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INT./EXT. CAR/PARKING LOT - CONTINUOUS #3#
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*The track kicks in.* We see the car is a shiny red Honda Civic *and note the door chimes are in time with the song.*
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*Choppy string play against guitar riffs* as GRIFF gets out. We see a shotgun partially concealed in his trench coat.
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BUDDY and DARLING get out. We glimpse they are also armed. He pops the trunk. Grabs two duffels. Hands one to Darling.
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We see they all wear sneakers *as they walk away from the car in sync with the track.* Again. It's awesome. *But* we stay with-
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BABY: our young driver. Hands fixed on the wheel. Ten to two. Watching his colleagues disappearing inside a 'CHASE' bank.
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*The song pauses for two bars.*
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*When it kicks back in,* our driver suddenly drops the strong, silent tough guy act and comes to _glorious, joyous life._
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Nodding his head. Swaying in his seat. Mouthing the vocals. A slave to the rhythm. He doesn't miss a beat. It's cool, but-
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He's also like a *big kid* in front of his bedroom mirror. As he drums on the dash, we see shoppers pass, other cars cruise by.
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Baby is so *immersed* in the track, he flicks on the wipers. *They swipe across the dry glass in perfect sync.*
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A mother with a stroller passes. The infant inside notices Baby rocking out in his car. Baby waves. The infant smiles.
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Then he instinctively looks in his rear view. A BLACK & WHITE POLICE CRUISER, sirens blaring, sraces up the street behind. Baby turns to watch the police car drive up and past.
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*A pause in the music.* The police car doesn't return.
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*An urgent bass line.* Baby looks to the bank. His goofy chair dance is over. He's _stone faced and all business_ again.
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*Over distorted guitars,* our driver watches through partially frosted windows. Sees his colleagues ordering staff to hit the floor. Glimpses scared faces, the brandishing of weapons.
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*The song reaches an interlude; a vocal comes in and Baby lip syncs every word* as his eyes stay fixed on the bank.
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JON SPENCER (IN SONG)
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"Thank you very much, ladies and gentlemen."
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*A snare hits.* An ALARM sounds. Baby steels himself.
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*Military snares build like staccato machine gun fire.* His colleagues explode out of the bank, two bags full.
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Baby revs *in time with the snares* as the his colleagues get in. Our driver glances at the bank sign. 'CHASE'.
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He pops the car into reverse. Stomps the gas, hard.
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*Snare drums crescendo.* The car screams back through the tight spaces between parked cars, makes a tight rockford to face forward. Baby drops into drive. Swerves wide onto -
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EXT. THE STREETS OF LA - CONTINUOUS #4#
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JON SPENCER
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"I'm gonna daaaaance."
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Baby's car sails into busy traffic, *the track blasting on the car stereo, building in speed and energy.*
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Despite the velocity of the getaway, our driver is calm at the wheel, weaving through traffic like an android.
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The other gand members lay low in their seats, shrug out of their business attire. They trade looks as Baby swerves.
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WOOP WOOP. One BLACK & WHITE cruiser screams the opposite way. It zooms past, then makes a 180 behind them.
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Baby sees the Black & White BEHIND. A light turns red AHEAD.
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He FLOORS it through the stop light. Other drivers break hard around him. Cars crash, rear end *in time with kick drum hits.*
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The Black & White flies through the intersection, gaining.
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Baby nears 70 mph, *the track building with cracking snares.* The lone Black & White still dogs behind. Sirens wailing.
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Baby HITS 70 mph. Then 80. Comes up to an intersection. Eases off. Makes a hard right at the last second into -
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A side street. Loses the Black & White. Baby TEARS down the narrow street, dodges dumpsters.
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On the adjacent artery, the Black & White can be seen in parallel. Baby floors it to the next cross street and SWERVES a hard left, directly into the path of the Black & White pursuing.
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Baby plows through this intersection, forcing the Black & White and all other traffic to brake VIOLENTLY HARD.
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The Honda Civic leaves the Black & White in the dust and tears down another straight with less traffic.
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Baby holds the gas down. Sees something before we do -
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JON SPENCER (CONT'D)
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"I'm gonna break, I'm gonna break!"
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Baby brakes, pulls hard on the wheel, accelerates through a 180 skid, roars in back the other direction with -
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THREE BLACK & WHITES now on his tail. Red and Blues. Sirens.
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Facing the original cruiser, Baby crosses the double line, tears past oncoming traffic and DISAPPEARS up a freeway ramp.
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No one saw that turn coming but Baby.
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EXT. THE 405 FREEWAY - CONTINUOUS #5#
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The Black & Whites are left behind as Baby revs past the green light and into aggressive morning traffic. 85... 90.
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*Highly distorted guitar* signals the arrival of a POLICE HELICOPTER. It dogs above, but has to play find-the-lady with at least *three red Honda Civics* currently southbound.
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Baby weaves from lane to lane. As he disappears under a bridge, he crosses to the shoulder and barrels along it at a crazy speed. Tears down the off ramp. And he's back onto -
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EXT. THE STREETS OF LA - CONTINUOUS #6#
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MASS HONKS as Baby blows through a intersection. Disappears down an alley, weaving these back routs like a savant.
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As sirent and choppers' blades ebb away a little, we see Baby ease it down, *a rising bass riff signals a sneaking approach.*
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He slows to see if any cruisers cross by ahead. One police cruiser glides by, sirens off. Baby waits *on the bass riff again.* Then floors it when the coast's clear. And suddenly -
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They pull into a covered parking lot underneath a quiet shopping complex and pull up next to a green Toyota Corolla.
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*And like that,* the gang leap out of the Civic and into the switch car, money and guns covered up.
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The gang swap places. Buddy and Griff in the back. Baby shotgun, Darling drives. Lets her hair down. Pulls on a colorful sweater.
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Baby closes his eyes, pretends to be asleep as Darling roars into the white of morning *and the Blues Explosion echoes out.*
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And the first musical number is over. That was something.
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EXT. DOWNTOWN BUSINESS DISTRICT - LATER #7#
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**OVER CREDITS: 'Harlem Shuffle' by Bob & Earl.**
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Our hero, Baby, appears from a door in the mirrored exterior of a non-descript business address in Bunker Hill.
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Baby has his iPod earphones firmly in, his shades on and his bubble of sound around him. Again, he's clearly a big kid when away from the gang, lost in his music.
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He strolls down the street listening to *'Harlem Shuffle'*. The song is as funky as the business district is not. Office workers stride to work, while Baby STRUTS along like Tony Manero.
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Baby uses a crosswalk, *the bleeps and his steps all in time.* He reaches the other side of teh street and breezes into -
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INT. STARBUCKS - CONTINUOUS #8#
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Baby takes one ear out, orders from an unseen MALE BARISTA.
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BARISTA (O.S.)
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Can I get your order sir?
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BABY
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(counts out four fingers)
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One black coffee. One black coffee. One black coffee. And one coffee, black.
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BARISTA (O.S.)
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So, four black coffees?
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BABY
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Uh. Yeah.
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BARISTA (O.S.)
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Size?
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BABY
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Middle one.
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BARISTA (O.S.)
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Four grande black coffees. Name?
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BABY
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Baby.
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BARISTA (O.S.)
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Your name is "Baby"?
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BABY
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B-A-B-Y. Baby.
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Baby puts his second ear bacak in as the coffee machine screams into life *and Bob (or Earl) wails over the middle 8.*
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Baby looks around the Starbucks, *sees other young people of his age,* smiling and chatting, enjoing their carefree lives. Their actions are magically in time with his personal soundtrack.
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Baby looks out through the window, sees A PRETTY GIRL walking past. She too is wearing earphones and lost in her own music.
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For a beautiful moment this girl and the whole damn city is alive and *all in step with the music in his head.* All except -
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A BEAT COP. Ironically, the only person not walking on beat.
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*The middle 8 ends.* The GIRL disappears. The BEAT COP lingers.
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Baby grabs his coffee tray. Splits.
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EXT. DOWNTOWN BUSINESS DISTRICT - CONTINUOUS #9#
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Baby passes the Beat Cop, only doing a subtle strut in time.
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His swagger returns as he approaches the building from where he came. We see POLICE CARS reflected in the glass of the building. Baby hears their sirens and watches as they pass.
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As the song fades, Baby opens the door with his elbow, stops it with his foot, all while switching the coffee tray from one hand to the other. He then *pirouettes* into the open door. He is-
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The Gene Kelly of the coffee run.
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INT. UNDECORATED LOFT - DAY #10#
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**'Egyptian Reggae' by Jonathan Richman & The Modern Lovers.**
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Coffee is drunk. Cash split. The gang are in a garment warehouse space with some vintage sewing desks.
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On a large table in the middle. DOC, an older (60s), silver-haired, very well-dressed man, counts out the day's haul.
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Darling, fixer herself up (down?), now looking trashier than before. Buddy, sits next to her and sips his coffee quietly.
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Baby sits at the back of class, earphones in and shades still on. The goofy kid has disappeared, the stoic, poker faced Baby has returned. The beefy guy, Griff, glowers at him.
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GRIFF
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What's his deal?
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DOC
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Baby? Full cut. Same as everyone.
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Doc is brusque, seems irritated at answering any questions.
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GRIFF
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No I mean, is he retarded?
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DOC
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Retarded means slow. Was he slow?
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GRIFF
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No...
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DOC
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Then he don't sound retarded to me.
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Doc smiles for a second. Then resumes counting.
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GRIFF
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I don't know. There's something wrong with him not saying anything.
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DOC
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There's nothing wrong with some quiet.
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GRIFF
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I'm just saying it weirds me -
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DOC
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(makes a zip-it motion)
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Hey! I'm going to lose count.
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Griff swaggers over to Baby, *who taps his fingers on the table to 'Egyptian Reggae'* on his iPod.
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Griff observes for a while, then holds down his tapping hand. Baby slowly takes his hand away. *Now his feet tap in time.*
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GRIFF
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What you listening to?
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No answer. Griff takes out one of Baby's earphones.
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GRIFF (CONT'D)
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What are you listening to Baby?
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No answer. Griff looks at Baby's iPod. Drops it with a scoff.
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GRIFF (CONT'D)
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You think you're pretty smart acting dumb, that it?
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BUDDY
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Leave the kid alone Griff.
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GRIFF
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I just wanna know what's going on in his head. Aside from 'Egyptian Reggae'.
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DARLING
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(half listening)
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Love reggae.
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BUDDY
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What does it matter to you?
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GRIFF
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I think _he thinks_ he's better than us, Buddy. Wants to keep his white shirt clean while we plays dirty.
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Griff snatches off Baby's shades. We see Baby's baby blues for the first time. He looks so fresh faced, so young.
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GRIFF (CONT'D)
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It don't work like that. Someday you'll get blood on your hands and find out it don't wash off in the fucking sink.
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DARLING
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Griff.
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GRIFF
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Hey Darling, he wants to hang with the older kids, he's going to hear some grown up words. Like 'fuck'.
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Griff does a boo scare on Baby. He doesn't flinch.
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DOC
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Will you cut it out!
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BUDDY
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Yeah, he did his job, let him be.
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GRIFF
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Hey, I ain't saying he's not great. Boy's a star, right?
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Doc puts Baby's cut in a holdall and brings it over to his desk.
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DOC
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Would I vouch for him if he wasn't?
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Doc leaves to go to the bathroom. Griff shouts after.
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GRIFF
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Hey I'm just checking he's gonna be okay out in the world. You know, since he's the only one in here not packing.
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Smiling, Griff takes out his revolver, puts it on the desk. Baby looks at the revolver, but doesn't show any emotion.
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
GRIFF (CONT'D)
|
|||
|
|
Take it. There's bad people around.
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
BUDDY
|
|||
|
|
Speak for yourself.
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
GRIFF
|
|||
|
|
Don't want it? Say I took your share, walked out? How you gonna stop me? I wanna see you stop me.
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
Darling and Buddy exchange glances as Griff playfully swipes Baby's holdall and walks slowly away towards the door.
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
GRIFF (CONT'D)
|
|||
|
|
C'mon. Don't let me get away.
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
Baby looks at Griff, then the revolver. Griff laughs.
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
GRIFF (CONT'D)
|
|||
|
|
Do it Baby. I'm a real bad guy.
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
Baby looks up at the ceiling. Griff is insulted.
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
GRIFF (CONT'D)
|
|||
|
|
Okay. Enough games.
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
Griff huffs, reluctantly puts the money back in the holdall. Baby quietly puts his shades back on again, retreats.
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
BUDDY
|
|||
|
|
I figured out why you call him Baby. Still waiting for his first words.
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
INT. FREIGHT ELEVATOR - LATER #11#
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
**'Second Intermezzo Pop' By Ennio Morricone.**
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
Baby travels with Griff, Darling, Buddy and Doc in a packed elevator. All five of them clutch HOLDALLS.
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
Darling is all over Buddy. Smooching and laughing. (The 20 year age gap between them is _a little much._)
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
DARLING
|
|||
|
|
Well isn't this quite the squeeze?
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
BUDDY
|
|||
|
|
I think *you're* quite the squeeze.
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
Griff again eyeballs Baby who has shades back on, phones in.
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
GRIFF
|
|||
|
|
You still mad-dogging me boy?
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
Doc snaps, Darling and Buddy sigh, tired of this shit.
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
DOC
|
|||
|
|
Jesus. *You're* mad dogging *him.*
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
BUDDY
|
|||
|
|
Yeah, where do you get off?
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
GRIFF
|
|||
|
|
Kid's gotta grow up sometime.
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
BUDDY
|
|||
|
|
Seriously. Where do you get off?
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
PING. The lift hits P1.
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
GRIFF
|
|||
|
|
Right here.
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
Griff makes a move, looking to Doc.
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
GRIFF (CONT'D)
|
|||
|
|
Okay folks, if you don't hear from me. It's because I'm dead.
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
Griff exits the frame _and the movie._ He's never seen again.
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
The doors close and darling laughs at the release of tension. The lift descends. Buddy and darling kiss again.
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
DARLING
|
|||
|
|
Hey, what's that song?
|
|||
|
|
(sings)
|
|||
|
|
"Love in an elevator"
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
BUDDY
|
|||
|
|
That would be 'Love In An Elevator'.
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
DARLING
|
|||
|
|
Riiight.
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
PING. The elevator hits P2. Buddy salutes Doc.
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
BUDDY
|
|||
|
|
Sir, I will call you as soon as the nose bag is empty.
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
Buddy punches Baby's arm playfully.
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
BUDDY (CONT'D)
|
|||
|
|
And you? You did great. You aced it. You're one of the good guys.
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
They exit. Buddy shouts back to Baby as the doors close.
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
BUDDY (CONT'D)
|
|||
|
|
He calls you again, don't pick up.
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
And with that, the elevator descends. Doc smiles tersely.
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
DOC
|
|||
|
|
Don't listen to him.
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
Baby then speaks his first words to any of 'the gang'.
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
BABY
|
|||
|
|
Okay.
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
INT. UNDERGROUND PARKING P3 - CONTINUOUS #12#
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
PING. Baby and Doc exit into a cavernous parking lot. They walk over to Doc's shiny Black Merc. Doc opens the trunk.
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
DOC
|
|||
|
|
Now you know I don't like taking candy from Baby, but...
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
Doc holds out his hand. Baby gives him *his* holdall. Doc takes out one stack of bills and throws *both* bags in the trunk.
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
DOC (CONT'D)
|
|||
|
|
Didn't want to embarrass you in front of the gang. When we're square we'll work out a new deal. Deal?
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
BABY
|
|||
|
|
Uh. Yeah.
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
Doc gives Baby the one stack of bills. Gets into his car.
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
DOC
|
|||
|
|
Don't go crazy with that. I want you back behind the wheel and soon. I'll call you.
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
Doc pulls out. Leaves Baby all alone.
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
EXT. APARTMENT BLOCK - DUSK #13#
|
|||
|
|
**'Nutrocker' by B. Bumble And The Stingers.**
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
*A piano bangs out a funereal intro.* We see a dilapidated red brick apartment building complete with a rusty fire escape.
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
It's a stone's throw from a park. Judging by some of the boarded up windows, literally a stone's throw.
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
INT. BARE APARTMENT - DUSK #14#
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
*The song becomes a rendition of March Of The Wooden Soldiers,* we see Baby flick the stack of cash in time with the piano.
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
Without his shades, Baby again looks less the badass, more the big kid. Young, of indeterminate age. Handsome, but cute.
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
*As the truck vamps,* Baby puts the money away, under a missing floorboard where an amount of dollar bills are stashed.
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
Baby replaces the board and we get a wider view of his quarters.
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
Pretty basic. Tiny kitchenette. Small bathroom and bedroom. In the center, a dining table and single chair.
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
*As 'Nutrocker' blossoms into a jazzy version of Tchaikovsky,* Baby mimes the keyboards on the table. Pounding out the tune with his fingers. Playing at playing like Jerry Lee Lewis.
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
There are iPods on the counter, table and floor. There must be *close to 70 devices* from different years, different colors, different models, seemingly from different owners.
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
There isn't a computer in the room. Just the odd charger. Battered travel speakers. A cassette deck. Audio tapes. A vinyl player. LPs. CD players, Walkmans. Dictaphones and many other recorders. A treasure trove of musical systems and physical media.
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
While there is a tremendous amount of equipment, it's ordered in a way that makes sense to Baby. Very precisely laid out.
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
Baby is now jiving around the room to 'Nutrocker'. He even pops some pills to the tune. *(Sharp eyes will notice it's anticonvulsant medication for tinnitus and epilepsy.)*
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
It's clear music is an obsession as Baby *dances like no-one's watching.* As he moves to the other side of the room we see -
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
An ELDERLY MAN (African American, 80s) in pajamas and robe, sitting in a wheelchair. He's half-asleep, watching TV.
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
Baby sees a KTLA 5 report on a 'Valley Bank Robbe -'.
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
CLICK. Baby switches it off. He wakes the Elderly Man and communicates the following in _sign language_. No subtitles.
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
BABY
|
|||
|
|
_You okay?_
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
ELDERLY MAN
|
|||
|
|
_I'm hungry._
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
BABY
|
|||
|
|
_You want the same?_
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
ELDERLY MAN
|
|||
|
|
_Yes please._
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
*As drums shuffle and the piano starts a descending octave,* Baby makes a sliced white bread and peanut butter sandwich.
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
He makes sure to spread the butter to the edges and cuts it into four smaller slices. Every action has a flourish to it.
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
*The song ends as it began, with jolly ceremony.* Baby serves the sandwich on bended knee, as if it were a royal platter. The Elderly Man beams with his remaining teeth.
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
In the corner sits one of those deaf friendly phones where a red light flashes when a call is incoming. It is _not flashing_.
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
INT. BARE APARTMENT - EVENING #15#
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
Baby sits alone. The Elderly Man is asleep in his chair. Baby absent mindedly flicks through kids' TV CHANNELS.
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
Flip to Alfala from 'The Little Rascals' singing -
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
ALFALFA
|
|||
|
|
"You are so beautiful."
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
Flip to Donkey and several baby donkeys in 'Shrek The 3rd'-
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
DONKEY
|
|||
|
|
They grow up so fast.
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
Flip to Sully and Mike in 'Monsters Inc'-
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
MIKE WAZOWSKI
|
|||
|
|
You and I are a team. Nothing is more important than our friendship.
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
INT. BARE APARTMENT - LATER THAT NIGHT #16#
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
Baby still sits alone. The Elderly Man now cannot be seen. He holds an outmoded Sony handheld cassette recorder.
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
*He plays back the audio for the opening chase. We hear a badly recorded* **'Bellbottoms'** *and all the sounds of the car.*
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
The phone sits in the corner. _Still nothing_.
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
INT. BARE APARTMENT - DAWN #17#
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
Baby. Alone. Still playing the tape. We hear this dialogue.
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
*DOC (TAPE)
|
|||
|
|
Was he slow?
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
GRIFF (TAPE)
|
|||
|
|
No.*
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
VEEEEEP. Baby rewinds this. Listens again.
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
INT. BARE APARTMENT - EARLY MORNING #18#
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
**'Call Me' by Siriusmo.**
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
Baby hasn't slept. Stares at the phone. In time with a track made up of dial tones, he pretends to *play it like a theremin.*
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
He mimes out this *Chaplin-esque* routine where he wills the phone to ring with *grand choreographed gestures.*
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
But no call. Bored, Baby looks into the bedroom. Sees the Elderly Man asleep under blankets. Sunlight streaming in.
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
Slowly Baby starts to fall asleep. But as soon as his eyes close-
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
**FLASHBACK: A HIGH PITCHED WHINE ON SOUNDTRACK**
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
*- A YOUNG 7 YEAR OLD Baby, not wearing headphones, sitting in the same apartment, same table. The furnishings are different.
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
- Young Baby has bruises and visible stitches. He looks up to see the Elderly Man (about 10 years younger) offer him a peanut butter sandwich and mouth 'you okay?'. Baby closes his eyes.
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
- See Young Baby, unbruised, in the back seat of a car, headphones firmly on. The camera pans around to see -
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
- A crying woman driving.
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
- A man in the passenger seat shouting furiously at her.
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
- The pick up truck they are about to rear end.
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
- The WHINE reaches a peak. Baby closes his eyes.*
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
**FLASHBACK ENDS.** Baby opens his eyes. Gets out of his chair.
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
He looks at one white iPod on the table. The original model from 2001. It is cracked and broken. Beyond repair.
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
INT. BARE APARTMENT - EARLY MORNING #19#
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
**'Intro' by The Herbaliser.**
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
Baby's back *in his bubble.* Jacket on. Phones in. Stands by the front door in a hallway with mirrors on both sides.
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
THE HERBALISER
|
|||
|
|
"He's rough, he's rugged, he's red blooded, he's romantic. He's full of shit."
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
Baby takes his shades on and off, throwing looks into the mirrors, acting out tough expressions and badass poses.
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
It's clear Baby will not leave until *the beat kicks in.* Baby throws open the door and exits...
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
INT./EXT. APARTMENT BLOCK - CONTINUOUS #20#
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
*To a funky groove,* Baby struts down the stairwell, passing a rising exposed elevator on the way up. He doesn't acknowledge the neighbor going up as he continues his tough act, sauntering down to the front door and *on beat* -
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
He struts into the street, as if he owns it. Baby jumps into a Blue Chevy Malibu. As the song ends, he rolls away.
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
INT. EMPTY DINER - EARLY MORNING #21#
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
**'Let's Go Away For Awhile' by The Beach Boys.**
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
Baby. Shades on. Phones in. Looking ahead. Listening to music. He sits in a pleasant, but not very busy, old school diner.
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
The decor is 50s retro and auto centric. *Classic convertibles with happy smiling couples inside* are painted everywhere.
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
Baby sees the LA Times ont he table. He flips it over so he doesn't have to see the headline featuring 'Robbery'.
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
Baby looks out to see a COUPLE in a car at the lights. They seem happy living the life Baby does not. They pull away revealing-
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
The PRETTY GIRL from earlier.
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
She's outside the diner, wearing grey sweats, and still wearing earphones too. She appears to be singing as she -
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
Walks into the diner and right into the kitchen.
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
Baby peers through the round glass of the kitchen doors as the girl gets changed out of her sweats. Still singing.
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
Baby takes out one ear of his earphones to hear what she's singing. But he can only hear the diner music and a little snatch of her voice when the kitchen doors swing open. *For a brief moment, the planets align and Baby's music, the dinner muzak and her singing make glorious union.*
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
THE GIRL
|
|||
|
|
B-A-B-Y, Baby.
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
Baby takes off his shades to look more clearly at this angel, but she disappears from view to finish getting changed.
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
Baby stares at the empty space where she just was. Then -
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
FEMALE VOICE
|
|||
|
|
What can I get you this fine morning?
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
Baby looks up in a daze. It's her. She's a waitress.
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
BABY
|
|||
|
|
Uh.
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
THE WAITRESS
|
|||
|
|
Don't worry if you need a minute. I got all the time in the world.
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
She gestures to the empty diner. One man at the counter and a second bored waitress. Baby stares at photos on the menu.
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
THE WATIRESS (CONT'D)
|
|||
|
|
Y'know thyat's the kids' menu right?
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
BABY
|
|||
|
|
Uh. Yeah.
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
He embarrasedly flips the menu to the other side.
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
THE WAITRESS
|
|||
|
|
Hey don't worry. I get it. It's early. You need Joe to jump start your head?
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
BABY
|
|||
|
|
Joe?
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
THE WAITRESS
|
|||
|
|
Coffee.
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
BABY
|
|||
|
|
Uh. No thank you.
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
THE WAITRESS
|
|||
|
|
Did you just get off?
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
BABY
|
|||
|
|
Get off?
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
THE WAITRESS
|
|||
|
|
You just starting your day or did you just get off?
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
BABY
|
|||
|
|
I guess.
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
The Waitress smirks at his non-answers. Hearing baby talk more, we note his speech patterns are half schoolkid and half stoner.
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
THE WAITRESS
|
|||
|
|
What do you do?
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
BABY
|
|||
|
|
I'm a driver.
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
THE WAITRESS
|
|||
|
|
Like a show-fer?
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
BABY
|
|||
|
|
A what?
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
THE WAITRESS
|
|||
|
|
You drive around important people?
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
BABY
|
|||
|
|
I guess I do.
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
THE WAITRESS
|
|||
|
|
That's pretty cool. Is it exciting?
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
BABY
|
|||
|
|
Yeah.
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
THE WAITRESS
|
|||
|
|
Anyone I'd know?
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
BABY
|
|||
|
|
I hope not.
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
THE WAITRESS
|
|||
|
|
Well, aren't you mysterious?
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
BABY
|
|||
|
|
...I don't know.
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
THE WATIRESS
|
|||
|
|
You don't know? Ha! Do you ever hit the road just for fun?
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
BABY
|
|||
|
|
Not so much anymore.
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
THE WAITRESS
|
|||
|
|
Me neither. Sometimes I'd like to just take off. Put some tunes on. Not know where I was going.
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
BABY
|
|||
|
|
Yeah?
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
THE WAITRESS
|
|||
|
|
Yeah.
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
A long pause. They drift off, lose themselves in the idea.
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
THE WAITRESS (CONT'D)
|
|||
|
|
Have you decided on anything yet?
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
BABY
|
|||
|
|
Yeah...
|
|||
|
|
(blurts)
|
|||
|
|
You are so beautiful.
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
THE WAITRESS
|
|||
|
|
Oh you just decided that? Well thank you but I'm sure you don't mean it.
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
BABY
|
|||
|
|
I do mean it.
|
|||
|
|
(looks at her name tag)
|
|||
|
|
Jonathan?
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
THE WAITRESS
|
|||
|
|
Oh sorr. This isn't my badge. I only just started here as a...
|
|||
|
|
(gestures at her uniform)
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
BABY
|
|||
|
|
Jonathan?
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
THE WAITRESS
|
|||
|
|
Yeah, as a 'Jonathan'.
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
She smiles. Charmed at his odd manner. She walks off.
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
THE WAITRESS (CONT'D)
|
|||
|
|
Well, if you have any questions, holler.
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
Baby stares as she walks off, tapping the backs of diner stools in time with the music as she goes. She sings a snatch of the song she was singing earlier in time with the muzak.
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
THE WAITRESS (CONT'D)
|
|||
|
|
B-A-B-Y Baby.
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
Baby takes in this image of The Waitress framed within the couples in convertible illustrations that adorn the walls.
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
BABY
|
|||
|
|
I have a question.
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
THE WAITRESS
|
|||
|
|
Uh huh.
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
BABY
|
|||
|
|
What song are you singing?
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
INT. DISCOUNT RECORD STORE - LATER #22#
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
**'The Plot' by Lalo Schifrin.**
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
Baby marches into a discount music store, the final resting place of physical media. Zeroes in on the right section. He's never looked so serious. He flips through jewel cases. Finds.
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
BABY
|
|||
|
|
Car-lah Tom-ass.
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
We see the CD cover. 'Gee Whiz: The Best of Carla Thomas'. He flips to the back cover. Track listings. '13. B-A-B-Y'.
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
Pays with a crisp new 50 dollar bill. And he's out.
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
INT. BARE APARTMENT - DUSK #23#
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
**'B-A-B-Y' by Carla Thomas** plays at full volume.
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
Baby stands in the middle of the room. Lost in the track. The Elderly Man sits in the corner again, watching TV.
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
We see a red light flashing on the phone.
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
Baby doesn't see it at first. He mouths along with the song -
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
CARLA THOMAS
|
|||
|
|
"And I can't stop loving you."
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
Baby has started a slow, solo dance around the room. The phone light flashes *in time with the track.*
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
CARLA THOMAS (CONT'D)
|
|||
|
|
"And I won't stop calling you."
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
The Elderly Man waves to Baby, alerts him to the phone. Baby presses pause on his music and picks up.
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
DOC (O.S.)
|
|||
|
|
You didn't answer. What's up?
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
Baby briefly glances at the ceiling, puzzled.
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
BABY
|
|||
|
|
What's up?
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
DOC (O.S.)
|
|||
|
|
Baby, I don't actually need to know. Here's what's up.
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
INT. DISCOUNT CLOTHING - EVENING #24#
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
**'Supervillain Theme' by Madvillain.**
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
DOC (O.S.)
|
|||
|
|
I need you to drive me to an appointment and I need you to look smart.
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
Over the phone conversation, we see baby in a cavernous discount menswear store in Santee Alley, garment district.
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
It appears that we're in the store after hours and that Doc is very much in charge. He may be the owner as he has several name age lackeys helping Baby try out some smarter clothes.
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
DOC (O.S.) (CONT'D)
|
|||
|
|
You got what it takes to be a chauffer?
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
BABY (O.S.)
|
|||
|
|
I think so.
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
DOC (O.S.)
|
|||
|
|
You know what a chauffeur does?
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
BABY (O.S.)
|
|||
|
|
Drives around important people.
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
DOC (O.S.)
|
|||
|
|
You learn fast kid. I like it.
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
Baby admires his new suit. Doc gives it the nod too.
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
EXT./INT. FANCY RESTAURANT/FANCY CAR - NIGHT #25#
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
**'Marca A La Turca' by La Tia Leonor Y Sus Sobrinos.**
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
Baby drives Doc's Merc up to an equally smart restaurant.
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
It's a final sitting for dinner, not too busy. Baby sees a booth full of SERIOUS LOOKING GUYS through the window.
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
He wears his new black suit, shirt, tie, smart sunglasses and driver gloves. Only one earphone is in. Doc sits in the back.
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
Baby pulls into a spot. A town car is parked alongside.
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
A valet opens the door. Doc leans over to Baby and whispers -
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
DOC
|
|||
|
|
I won't be long. In case of fire, there's something in the glove.
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
DOC gets out, leaving Baby staring at his gloves, intrigued. There's a hidden weapon in his gloves? Like in 'Iron Man'?
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
Baby then realizes doc mean the glove compartment. He opens that to sees a PISTOL inside. He closes the glove again.
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
He looks over to the restaurant. Three WELL DRESSED TOUGHS sit in a booth with their backs to the wall. They greet Doc with cordial hugs. They look like gangsters. Or ex-cops.
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
As they talk we only see the back of Doc's head. Their conversation cannot be heard *but it syncs perfectly with the music in Baby's ears: a wonky sixties cover of Mozart's Piano Sonata in A Major.*
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
The four men discuss something important. Through Baby's eyes their hushed talk *is scored by the piano music. A 4 bar melody represents one guy talking, the next 4 bars in a higher octave represent a second guy.* The meeting continues in time with descending piano scales.
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
A piece of paper is passed to Doc across the table, Baby starts to mouth along with what he imagines the conversation to be, mimicking the facial expressions of the three toughs.
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
As he fully commits to this silly charade the window of the ADJACENT CAR winds down and a POKER FACED CHAUFFEUR looks across at Baby, acting like a goof.
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
Baby stops. The chaffeur then winds his window back up.
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
Then, *in perfect sync with a celebratory end to the track* Doc walks out of the front door of the restaurant.
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
Doc jumps in, slams the door *on the closing note of the song.*
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
DOC (CONT'D)
|
|||
|
|
So I got us a job. You in?
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
BABY
|
|||
|
|
Am I in?
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
DOC
|
|||
|
|
It was a rhetorical question Baby. You're in.
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
INT. UNDECORATED WAREHOUSE - DAY #26#
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
**'Kashmere' by The Kashmere Stage Band.**
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
Baby walks in with Doc. We see what he sees. Three new colleagues. Three hardened criminals. Meet EDDIE, J.D. and BATS.
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
DOC
|
|||
|
|
Meet the new cast.
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
All 30s, all formidable male specimens. Eddie is a slab of white muscle with a discolored band-aid on his nose. J.D. is a long haired, dope faced Korean, covered in tattoos.
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
DOC (CONT'D)
|
|||
|
|
This is Eddie No Nose. Formerly Eddie The Nose.
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
BATS (O.S.)
|
|||
|
|
Why, what happened?
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
EDDIE
|
|||
|
|
Come on. Don't ask me that. That's a No-Nose' no-one. Page one.
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
DOC
|
|||
|
|
And that's J.D. He put the Asian in home invasion. And Bats there-
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
Bats is an intense dude, mixed race, wiry with piercing eyes and a permanent grin. He wears a leather glove on one hand.
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
BATS
|
|||
|
|
No need for the intro Doc, everyone's heard of the 'One Glove Bandit'
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
Bats and Co. treat their new member with curiosity and malicious glee; their jazzy patter overlapping like Altman. They talk about him, at him, project onto him.
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
J.D.
|
|||
|
|
This is him Doc? This is the mute?
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
EDDIE
|
|||
|
|
All I hear is talk about this mute.
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
J.D, Eddie and Bats are up in Baby's face like wild dogs as Doc busies himself writing on a freestanding chalkboard.
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
BATS
|
|||
|
|
That right? Are you the mute?
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
BABY
|
|||
|
|
...No.
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
J.D.
|
|||
|
|
This is the kid, the one who listens to music all the time.
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
BATS
|
|||
|
|
If he's got phones in all the time how's he's concentrate on the job?
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
DOC
|
|||
|
|
He doesn't phone it in.
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
J.D.
|
|||
|
|
Phones don't phone it in, huh?
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
BATS
|
|||
|
|
Driver's supposed to be the eyes and ears. Not just the eyes.
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
DOC
|
|||
|
|
He won't disappoint.
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
EDDIE
|
|||
|
|
You don't disappoint in this biz, you just end up dead.
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
DOC
|
|||
|
|
I'd put money on any of you fucking up, before Baby puts a step wrong.
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
J.D.
|
|||
|
|
Baby steps, right?
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
EDDIE
|
|||
|
|
Why's he listen to music all the time, he got mental problems or something?
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
BATS
|
|||
|
|
Hey. I got the mental problems on this crew. Position taken, you hear?
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
DOC
|
|||
|
|
He's got tinnitus.
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
EDDIE
|
|||
|
|
What's that?
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
DOC
|
|||
|
|
Had an accident when he was a kid. Something went pop in his ear.
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
DOC (CONT'D)
|
|||
|
|
Still got a hum in the drum. Plays music round the clock to drown it out.
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
J.D.
|
|||
|
|
Hum-drum, huh?
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
Baby doesn't react to them talking about the accident. He's distracted by one of J.D's tattoos that reads 'Hat'.
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
BABY
|
|||
|
|
'Hat'?
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
J.D.
|
|||
|
|
Uh?
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
BABY
|
|||
|
|
Your tattoo says 'Hat'.
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
J.D.
|
|||
|
|
Yeah it used to say 'hate', but to appease my parole officer and increase my chances of employment, I got the 'e' removed.
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
BATS (O.S.)
|
|||
|
|
Oh how's that working out for you?
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
J.D.
|
|||
|
|
Who doesn't like hats?
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
DOC
|
|||
|
|
So. Let's talk shop.
|
|||
|
|
(clicks fingers at Baby)
|
|||
|
|
Baby, you with us?
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
Again, Baby doesn't directly answer. We CUT TO-
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
INT. UNDECORATED WAREHOUSE - LATER #27#
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
**'Unsquare Dance' by Dave Brubeck**
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
*Over a strong bass line, hand claps and snare drums -*
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
Doc relates a plan to the four strong team. Some of it is illustrated on the chalkboard. We see everyone, except Baby, listen as Doc relays details of masks, timings, routes, etc.
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
Baby sits at the back again. *The music in his ears fully drowns out any dialogue.* But he watches their lips.
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
There is a TOY CAR onthe table next to some floorplans. Baby absent mindedly plays with it as he taps his foot.
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
The song finishes. Doc finishes. Bats' hand shoots up.
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
BATS
|
|||
|
|
I got a question. Tell my whi I should believe Phones over there listened to a damn word you just said? You go through the whole play and he ain't listening.
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
DOC
|
|||
|
|
Baby?
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
BABY
|
|||
|
|
You're going to hit an armored truck at Banco Popular in El Monte at 10am sharp. You have the details of the route because someone at the depot has a nasal problem. The bank itself is right by the 10 so we should be able to hit a ramp within 60 seconds of getting out. We also have a diversion crew, who are going to blow up a bread truck a ways away, keep the fuzz busy. Dress code is Michael Myers Halloween masks, but you can't all buy the masks at the same time, looks suspicious. You guys have the switch car all set up, but you want me to go out to the long stay parking structure at a Metrolink and get a ride that stays colder for longer. Boost a commuter car, a family car. Something that will blend into the morning traffic.
|
|||
|
|
(beat)
|
|||
|
|
I think something on the heavy side, case we need to ram the police off the road. An Escalade, a Yukon, an Avalanche. Whatever it is, it needs to be ready for an 8.30 start. In the ayem.
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
Wowed silence.
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
DOC
|
|||
|
|
That's my Baby.
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
INT. NORTH CORONA METROLINK PARKING STRUCTURE - EARLY MORNING #28#
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
**'Bongolia' by The Incredible Bongo Band.**
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
*On a bongo roll,* we see a windowshield POV, as we pull into a concrete parking structure and park up in a long stay spot.
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
Shades on, ears in; Baby sits in a 1989 white Toyota Camry. And waits for something better.
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
*Drums kick in. Tempo shifts up.* The lot gets busy.
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
*On every second beat we hear a loud vibraslap* and each time Baby sizes up another car. Office workers slamming car doors and beeping keys *in perfect sync with his music.*
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
We see a silver Infiniti dropped off, a blue Accord, a green Acura, a silver SmartCar, then bingo. A black Avalanche.
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
The middle aged, middle management AVALANCHE OWNER beeps it locked. Then wanders out of the lot, nose in the LA times.
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
*On a drum fill,* Baby jumps out of his ride, follows.
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
EXT. NORTH CORONA METROLINK STATION - CONTINUOUS #29#
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
*A brass riff scores* Baby following the Avalanche Owner, copying his stride. He follows him onto the train platform. Apes his glance to the digital timetable. He even swipes a discarded paper to look like a real commuter.
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
When the Avalanche Owner reaches the edge of the platform. Baby stops, pretending, like his mark, to read the LA times too. The Avalanche Owner stops to get a coffee from a news stand. Baby does too, like a weird echo of Harpo Marx.
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
*A bongo solo* signals the arriving train. Baby waits, lining up one door away from the Avalanche Owner. They get on.
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
The Avalanche Owner moves inside the carraige, Baby does too and KNOCKS RIGHT INTO HIM.
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
BABY
|
|||
|
|
I'm sorry.
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
Baby then swiftly moves further down the carriage.
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
*The breakdown ends with a key change and a* whistle blowing. Just before the train doors close, Baby slips off again.
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
*Now a solo sax joins* as Baby struts back to the parking structure, a swing in his step as the train leaves behind.
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
*The brass sounds triumphant* as Baby Travoltas back into the long stay area and right up to his prize.
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
The Avalanche. Baby walks up. Whips out the OWNER'S KEYS. Beep beeps. Gets in. Pulls out.
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
EXT./INT. BANCO POPULAR/AVALANCHE - LATER THAT MORNING #30#
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
The Avalanche pulls into a strip mall lot outside the bright red facade of a Banco Popular. Parks up.
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
Baby is still at the wheel. In the back are Eddie and J.D. dressed in black duds. In shotgun and in black is Bats.
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
Baby spies, with his little eye, a utility uniformed MARINE walk past their car and over to a 1988 Red Toyota Pickup.
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
The Marine eyeballs the Avalanche as he gets into his Ford, but Baby's attention turns to another Ford, the E-350 ARMORED TRUCK which pulls up level with a side entrance to the bank.
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
Bats breathes deep. Whispers a mantra, half to himself.
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
BATS
|
|||
|
|
What's in there is ours. It belongs to us. They got our money. Our hard earned paper. They snuck in last night when we was asleep, took our pants off the chair and emptied our wallet. They got what is rightfully ours. So let's take it back. What is rightfully ours.
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
Baby hits play on an iPod plugged into the Chevy's stereo.
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
**'Neat Neat Neat' by The Damned.** *A menacing bass riff scores -*
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
Bats. Pulling on the mask from the movie 'Halloween'.
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
In the back Eddie also pulls on the 'Halloween' mask.
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
Third up, J.D. pulls on an 'Austin Powers' latex face mask.
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
HALLOWEEN 1 (BATS)
|
|||
|
|
What is that?
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
AUSTIN POWERS (J.D.)
|
|||
|
|
What's what?
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
HALLOWEEN 2 (EDDIE)
|
|||
|
|
Your mask! Doc said Michael Myers.
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
AUSTIN POWERS (J.D.)
|
|||
|
|
This is Mike Myers!
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
HALLOWEEN 1 (BATS)
|
|||
|
|
It should be the 'Halloween' mask!
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
AUSTIN POWERS (J.D.)
|
|||
|
|
This *is* a Halloween mask!
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
HALLOWEEN 1 (BATS)
|
|||
|
|
You're gonna stand out.
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
AUSTIN POWERS (J.D.)
|
|||
|
|
From who? Is everyone in this mall wearing a Mike Myers mask too?
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
HALLOWEEN 2 (EDDIE)
|
|||
|
|
Michael Myers.
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
AUSTIN POWERS (J.D.)
|
|||
|
|
Whatever dude.
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
Austin Powers goes to open his door when Baby stops them -
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
BABY
|
|||
|
|
Wait. I gotta start the song again.
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
Baby rewinds, *plays the intro again.* The gang stare like he's insane. *When drums kick at the 5 second mark,* Baby points.
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
BABY (CONT'D)
|
|||
|
|
Okay go.
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
The gang jump out of the Avalanche. Run over to the truck. Surprise the Hopper unloading bags from the back doors.
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
Halloween 1 is about to cold cock the Hopper when -
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
Baby pulls forward a few feet, *blocking his view of the violence.* He looks dead ahead, retreats into his bubble. Chooses not to watch. *He lip syncs the first verse -
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
THE DAMNED
|
|||
|
|
"Be a man, can a mystery man. Be a doll be a baby doll. It can't be fun in any way. There can be found no way at all."
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
Then on a key change into the chorus,* he backs up. Sees two Halloweens and Austin Powers, each with a bag running toward.
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
Baby can see the Hopper beyond them. Face down on the ground. Blood on the concrete. *Baby didn't want to see this.* Then-
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
Halloween 1 & 2 jump in. Austin Powers lags behind, a klutz.
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
BATS
|
|||
|
|
Fucking move Austin! Move! Use your powers of speed!
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
Austin (J.D.) finally makes it to the car. And then Baby floors it, spins a perfect circle to face the exit. When -
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
The RED PICKUP reverses into their path. Blocking the exit.
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
Baby squeals to a halt as the Marine jumps out, pulls a RIFLE and opens fire on the Avalanche. Holy shit.
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
Baby & Co. Hit the deck. Bullets spiderweb the windshield.
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
Slam into reverse. Scream into a J-turn.
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
BANG! The Marine takes out the rear window. Glass rains down.
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
BANG! The driver of teh armored truck is out and firing too. VROOM! Baby floors it. Escapes over a landscaped island.
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
In his shaking rear view, Baby can just see the Marine jump back into the Red Pickup - as he roars onto -
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
EXT. VALLEY BLVD / I-10 - CONTINUOUS #31#
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
Sweating, Baby speeds out of there. Screams down the shoulder. Going 70... 80. The gang in the car have their masks off and slump down, out of sight. Bats curses.
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
*An out of control guitar solo signals* the Avalanche joining the freeway and swerving wide to occupy the far left lane.
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
BATS
|
|||
|
|
Diamond lane that shit. We got four.
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
Baby holds the gas down, tearing up the far left, swerving only to overtake cars observing the speed limit.
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
*As the guitar solo goes up in register.* Bats sees-
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
THE RED FORD PICKUP is behind and gaining. Baby is boxed in by rigs. Allowing the Pickup to get close.
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
BATS (CONT'D)
|
|||
|
|
Go Baby go!
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
Right now. There is nowhere to go. The Pickup closes in, a determined Marine at the wheel.
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
To the gang's amazement, The Pickup attempts the PIT maneuver (Pursuit Immobilization Technique), tapping the back of the Avalanche and sending the gang into a tailspin.
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
That would be pretty crazy, if not for what happens next.
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
Still boxed in by the surrounding rigs, baby spins the wheel and turns the fishtailing Avalanche round to face front again.
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
Nose forward, Baby floors it, snakes in between the rigs ina hairy move, just missing them both.
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
It is some fancy ass driving. Though baby looks shaken.
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
The Pickup is left on the scorching hot 10, as the Avalanche swerves hard right and, like that, is gone -
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
EXT. OFF RAMP - CONTINUOUS #32#
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
The Avalanche glides fast down the off ramp. But up ahead-
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
A RED LIGHT. Construction. Single lane traffic.
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
*The music breaks down to the solo bass line.* Baby's car is third back from the stop light. Bats motions for them to get out.
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
BATS
|
|||
|
|
New ride.
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
Baby unplugs the iPod and jumps out, there is a PAUSE in the music. *We hear traffic, sirens approach, sounds of unease.*
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
Bats and Eddie stroll with their bags to the first car at the stop. A Blue Accord with a YOUNG MOTHER inside, Bats taps his pistol on the passenger window. The Mother looks stunned.
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
YOUNG MOTHER
|
|||
|
|
I have a child.
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
BATS
|
|||
|
|
Get the fuck out of the car lady.
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
Bats roughly pulls the Mother out and gets the fuck in. Baby quickly, instinctively opens the back door. Sees-
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
Her YOUNG SON on the backseat. He *recognises himself,* then unbuckles and hands the scared kid to his mom at the roadside.
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
BATS (CONT'D)
|
|||
|
|
C'mon pussies. Let's go go go.
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
J.D. is lagging again, having run back to retrieve a gun from the Avalanche. Bats mutters again at the gang klutz.
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
J.D's Austin Powers masks FALLS OFF as he races to the Accord. He quickly picks it up off the street and jumps in.
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
BATS (CONT'D)
|
|||
|
|
Jesus, Austin!
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
Baby is now in the drivers seat and quickly plugs his iPod into this car. We barely miss a bar.
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
The light turns magically green. They pull out and drive to -
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
EXT. ROSEMEAD SHOPPING CENTER - CONTINUOUS #33#
|
|||
|
|
Baby eases this unplanned ride into a shopping center parking lot. The GPS is going crazy (all in time with the music)
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
FEMALE GPS VOICE
|
|||
|
|
Route recalculation...
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
Baby glides past an oblivious Black & White that is on its way out of the huge mall.
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
When the cruiser is out of sight, Baby swerves hard and heads for their target, a quiet access street behind a Target.
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
They pull up next to a 2005 SILVER SATURN AURA parked in the shadow of the morning sun.
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
On the final chorus, drums drive up the energy as our gang jump out and slip into their third ride of the day.
|
|||
|
|
We're back to something like clockwork. The hi hats blending into white noise as Baby slams into drive, peels out and -
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
EXT. UNDERGROUND PARKING P3 - LATER #34#
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
Pulls up to a sharp stop back at Doc's. Baby got the gang out of a mess. But he is not as calm as before, he's sweating.
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
BATS
|
|||
|
|
Man up, Baby.
|
|||
|
|
(jumps out)
|
|||
|
|
And go get the fucking coffee.
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
*We hear the* **'Harlem Shuffle'** *intro again. But this time -*
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
EXT. DOWNTOWN BUSINESS DISTRICT - MOMENTS LATER #35#
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
*It's a cover by* **'The Foundations' .** *And it's a faster tempo.*
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
Equally, Baby performs his coffee run at speed. But he's not strutting this time. He's not enjoying himself. At all.
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
INT. UNDECORATED LOFT - LATER #36#
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
Doc divides up the take in front of the gang. Baby walks back in, handing out black coffees. To Doc, to Eddie, to Bats, to...
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
Baby looks for the missing team member. Doc catches it.
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
DOC
|
|||
|
|
Where's J.D.?
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
Eddie sips at his coffee. Bats sits back and stretches.
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
BATS
|
|||
|
|
The International Man of Mystery?
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
Bats lifts up the Austin Powers mask, puppeteering it with two fingers through the eyes and his thumb through the mouth.
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
BATS (CONT'D)
|
|||
|
|
Beats me.
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
Bats grins at Baby like a naughty schoolkid.
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
INT. UNDERGROUND PARKING P3. DAY #37#
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
PING. Baby exits the elevator with Doc. Both carry holdalls.
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
Baby walks over to the Silver Aura. Stares at the trunk. But doesn't dare open it. We see a SMUDGE OF BLOOD on the latch.
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
Stay on Baby. Mesmerized. Horrified. Doc takes Baby's Holdall from his hands. Gives him a stack of bills in return.
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
DOC
|
|||
|
|
You're nearly done Baby.
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
BABY
|
|||
|
|
Yeah...
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
DOC
|
|||
|
|
One more job though. Lose this ride.
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
SLAM. Baby shuts the door, sits in the car. Alone.
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
EXT. JUNK YARD - DAY #38#
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
*A slowed down version of* **Carla Thomas' 'B-A-B-Y'** *starts.*
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
Baby watches his former ride (the Aura) and former colleague (J.D.), about to be destroyed in a car wrecker.
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
A hydraulic plate presses. The windows explode. Baby turns, equally crushed, as the song drowns out the CRUNCHING METAL.
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
He closes his eyes.
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
**FLASHBACK: A HIGH PITCHED WHINE ON SOUNDTRACK**
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
*In reverse we see the CRUNCHING METAL of a car slamming into the back of a pick up truck. Then we see in reverse-
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
- The man shouting. The crying woman driving. The busy road.
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
- We see a Young Baby sitting in an apartment we haven't seen. Standing over him, the Man & Woman from the previous flashback.
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
- Eyes closed, Young Baby opens a hastily wrapped gift. He opens his eyes to see a new iPod. The one we saw earlier, unbroken.
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
- Young Baby peers through a bedroom door. Sees the Man & Woman argue violently. Listens to the iPod to drown out the fight.
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
- Young Baby hides under his comforter. His mother leans over him. Her mascara has run. She takes out one of Baby's earphones, says 'Hey Baby'. Young Baby closes his eyes. _The WHINE peaks._*
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
INT. HALF EMPTY DINER - DAY #39#
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
Baby opens his eyes. He sits in his usual spot. Sans shades. Retreats into a happy song (**'Lalo Bossa Nova' by Quincy Jones**).
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
A finger clicks in front of his face. She's here. His waitress.
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
WAITRESS
|
|||
|
|
You're back.
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
Baby doesn't catch this. *She takes one of his earphones out.*
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
WAITRESS (CONT'D)
|
|||
|
|
You're back.
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
Baby is not sure whetehr he's dreaming or not.
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
BABY
|
|||
|
|
I am?
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
WAITRESS
|
|||
|
|
Yeah you are. And you sir are going to be my last customer because I am walking outta that door in precisely 30 seconds.
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
BABY
|
|||
|
|
You're leaving?
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
WAITRESS
|
|||
|
|
Yes I am.
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
BABY
|
|||
|
|
Can I come with you?
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
WAITRESS
|
|||
|
|
You can. But I don't know how exciting you're gonna find the laundromat.
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
Baby is confused.
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
WAITRESS (CONT'D)
|
|||
|
|
I gotta run some errands. So can I get you a drink instead?
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
BABY
|
|||
|
|
Oh, I don't drink.
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
WAITRESS
|
|||
|
|
No, I mean water, coffee?
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
BABY
|
|||
|
|
I don't drink.
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
Another pause. The waitress breaks into a cute grin.
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
WAITRESS
|
|||
|
|
Well you might not drink sir, but I am sure getting a buzz off you.
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
BABY
|
|||
|
|
Yeah?
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
WAITRESS
|
|||
|
|
Yeah. Tell you what, you have a think about what you want, and I will stick around and wait for you.
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
BABY
|
|||
|
|
You will?
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
WAITRESS
|
|||
|
|
Yessir.
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
Baby glances at the menu, but can't stop watching the Waitress, who small-talks with a Second Bored Waitress.
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
SECOND WAITRESS
|
|||
|
|
How you two getting along?
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
The Waitress grins. Baby loses himself in that sunny smile.
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
WAITRESS
|
|||
|
|
Oh, good. He's sweet isn't he?
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
SECOND WAITRESS
|
|||
|
|
That kid's been coming here since before me. I think maybe his mom used to work here.
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
WAITRESS
|
|||
|
|
Huh...
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
The song fades in Baby's ears. The waitress comes back.
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
WAITRESS (CONT'D)
|
|||
|
|
You know what you want?
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
BABY
|
|||
|
|
Your name?
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
This is not as smooth as it sounds.
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
WAITRESS
|
|||
|
|
You can get that for free. It's Debbie. Debora.
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
BABY
|
|||
|
|
Like the song?
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
DEBORA
|
|||
|
|
The Beck one? Yes, except I'm 'd-e-b-o-r-a' and I think that's just 'd-e-b-r-a'.
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
BABY
|
|||
|
|
I don't know it.
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
DEBORA
|
|||
|
|
It goes-
|
|||
|
|
(sings just beautifully)
|
|||
|
|
'I met you at J.C. Penny, I think your nametag, said Jenny'.
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
BABY
|
|||
|
|
Jenny?
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
DEBORA
|
|||
|
|
Yeah, the song is about him wanting to get with Jenny *and* her sister too, whose name is Debra. So it's not even really about me, it's about the sister. *My* sister's name is Mary.
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
(MORE)
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
DEBORA
|
|||
|
|
She's got all the songs. 'Mary, Mary where you going to', 'Proud Mary keep on burning', 'Mary, you shouldn't let 'em make you mad'. She's got me beat. Again. She's got *endless* songs. I got one.
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
BABY
|
|||
|
|
Two.
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
DEBORA
|
|||
|
|
What's the other one?
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
BABY
|
|||
|
|
Debora.
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
DEBORA
|
|||
|
|
Who by?
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
BABY
|
|||
|
|
Trex?
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
DEBORA
|
|||
|
|
T-Rex? I know 'em, but I don't know that one. How does it go?
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
BABY
|
|||
|
|
(half sings)
|
|||
|
|
Deboree-dah. Deboree-dah. Bee-dah.
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
DEBORA
|
|||
|
|
I like it so far.
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
BABY
|
|||
|
|
Oh Deb-o-rah, always look like a zeb-o-rah.
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
DEBORA
|
|||
|
|
A zeb-orah?
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
BABY
|
|||
|
|
A zeebra.
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
DEBORA
|
|||
|
|
Hey, I guess I am wearing black and white. So you can call me Dee-bra.
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
BABY
|
|||
|
|
I have it on here.
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
Baby takes out his iPod and shuffles through in fron tof her. Debora notices that it is pink and covered in glitter.
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
DEBORA
|
|||
|
|
You have that iPod the other day?
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
BABY
|
|||
|
|
No.
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
DEBORA
|
|||
|
|
You have different color iPods for different days, diferent moods?
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
BABY
|
|||
|
|
I guess.
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
DEBORA
|
|||
|
|
This a pink and glittery day for you?
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
BABY
|
|||
|
|
Uh. Yeah.
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
Debora laughs again. This kid is a kook.
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
DEBORA
|
|||
|
|
What is your name?
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
BABY
|
|||
|
|
Baby.
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
DEBORA
|
|||
|
|
Your name is 'Baby'? 'B-A-B-Y, Baby'?
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
BABY
|
|||
|
|
Yeah.
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
DEBORA
|
|||
|
|
Well then you have us *all* beat. Every song is about you!
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
BABY
|
|||
|
|
I guess.
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
DEBORA
|
|||
|
|
Did your Mom call you Baby?
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
BABY
|
|||
|
|
...Sometimes.
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
DEBORA
|
|||
|
|
She used to work here?
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
DEBORA
|
|||
|
|
Sometimes. She was a singer too.
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
DEBORA
|
|||
|
|
Oh wow. I like to think I can sing. But I am not a pro or anything. What does she do now?
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
BABY
|
|||
|
|
Nothing...
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
Baby is looking flustered. He holds up the iPod again.
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
BABY (CONT'D)
|
|||
|
|
I can find ‘Debora’ if you want.
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
Debora pauses, smiles sweetly at him.
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
DEBORA
|
|||
|
|
How about you play it for me sometime when I don't gotta rush off. Deal?
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
BABY
|
|||
|
|
Deal.
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
DEBORA
|
|||
|
|
Now you know what you want yet?
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
Baby knows what he wants. Her.
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
INT./INT. HALF EMPTY DINER/AVALANCHE - MOMENTS LATER #40#
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
**'Debora' by T-Rex.**
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
Baby sits in a Red Chrysler Lebaron *singing along. Loudly.* Out of his window, he sees the real Debora leave work.
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
She briefly shoots a look Baby's way. He ducks.
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
INT. BABY'S BATHROOM - EVENING #41#
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
...then resurfaces wet *to sing along with 'Debora'.* Again.
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
Baby is in the bath. The song echoes around the tiles. It is being played on a battered iPod speaker dock. Baby goofs around to the track in the bath, *in his own mini musical.*
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
INT. BARE APARTMENT - LATER #42#
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
*'Debora' still plays.* Baby dances around the living room.
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
The Elderly Man is in his chair, looking more and more like a piece of the furniture. He watches the local news again with subtitles we see that THE MARINE is being interviewed when -
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
Baby switches the channels to ‘Jeopardy’.
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
Then Baby resumes singing with ‘Debora’ again, leading into a -
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
**‘DEBORA’ ON REPEAT MONTAGE:** The song scores Baby's night.
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
- Baby flicks through an address book. Empty except for ‘D’. We see ‘DOC’ and his phone number written in a scrawl.
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
- Baby adds the name ‘Debora’. Under, he draws a question mark.
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
- Baby plays dialogue on his recorder in time with *‘Debora’*.
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
BABY (ON TAPE)
|
|||
|
|
Can I come with you?
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
DEBORA (ON TAPE)
|
|||
|
|
Yes, you can.
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
VEEEEEP. He rewinds this. Plays it again.
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
- Baby uses a twin deck cassette recorder to edit dialogue. We see stacks of TDK D90s and TDK D30s audio tapes.
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
- Using the pause, play and record buttons on the twin deck, he has edited a conversation with Debora to say -
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
DEBORA (ON TAPE) (CONT'D)
|
|||
|
|
Sometimes I'd like to just take off.
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
BABY (ON TAPE)
|
|||
|
|
Can I come with you?
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
DEBORA (ON TAPE)
|
|||
|
|
Yessir. I got all the time in the world.
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
- Baby sits back in a chair and listens to this dialogue on a loop. It's now the dead of night. He is alone when -
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
_The phone rings._ FLASHES. Baby stares. Doesn't pick up.
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
- Baby sits on the bathroom floor. He lip syncs along to *‘Debora’* with gusto, as if driving other concerns out.
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
- Baby peers back into the main room. Two things.
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
One. Sunlight floods in. He has clearly not slept again.
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
Two. The phone is still FLASHING. Baby doesn't pick up.
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
- Baby sits at his bedroom window, looks out at the city. Mouthing along with *‘Debora’* again.
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
- The phone FLASHES again. Baby is not present. We see the Elderly Man rise slowly out of his chair to answer.
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
Baby runs out of the bedroom. Motions ‘No’. Stops him.
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
He watches the phone FLASH. *‘Debora’* echoes around the room.
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
EXT. APARTMENT BLOCK - DAY #43#
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
Baby comes bounding out of his block. He gets into his Red Chrysler Lebaron and peels out. He doesn’t see-
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
A BLACK MERC behind him. It follows slowly.
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
INT. HALF EMPTY DINER - DAY #44#
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
**'I Can't Believe What You Say' by Ike & Tina Turner.**
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
Baby is happy to be back. Upbeat music on. His shades are off. Has the pink iPod with him. He looks out of the window-
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
*He imagines himself and The Waitress as a young couple in a 50's convertible at the lights.* Smiling, laughing. Then he hears-
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
DEBORA
|
|||
|
|
Hey Baby.
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
She's here. The dream come true.
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
BABY
|
|||
|
|
Hey Debora. I'm back.
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
DEBORA
|
|||
|
|
I can see. What's up?
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
BABY
|
|||
|
|
You know... just listening.
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
DEBORA
|
|||
|
|
Well, what you listening to?
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
BABY
|
|||
|
|
Music.
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
DEBORA
|
|||
|
|
Well, duh.
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
Baby smarts a little at this. Debora stops herself.
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
DEBORA (CONT'D)
|
|||
|
|
Wait, I take that back. I guess not everyone listens to music. Could be a podcast or an audiobook. Hell, I get to sleep listening to whale song. Never even seen a whale but I sleep with one.
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
BABY
|
|||
|
|
It’s music.
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
Baby offers up his iPod. She reads the display.
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
DEBORA
|
|||
|
|
Ike and Tina Turner huh?
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
BABY
|
|||
|
|
You like ‘em?
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
DEBORA
|
|||
|
|
Half. Like Tina. Don’t like Ike. He’s a bad man. Don’t like bad men.
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
BABY
|
|||
|
|
You don’t?
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
DEBORA
|
|||
|
|
Why, do you?
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
BABY
|
|||
|
|
No. I don’t.
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
Baby then sees. Outside the diner. For real. DOC. Patiently waiting outside his Black Merc.
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
DEBORA (O.S.)
|
|||
|
|
I don’t need bad people in my life. Or my ears. I’ll stick with the whale.
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
Debora sees she has lost Baby’s attention.
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
DEBORA (CONT'D)
|
|||
|
|
Is that your Dad?
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
BABY
|
|||
|
|
No. It isn’t.
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
Baby just stares out the window. Debora notes his unease.
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
DEBORA
|
|||
|
|
Hey, why don’t I give you a minute to decide.
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
Baby pauses his music. We hear that FAINT UNSETTLING HUM.
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
EXT. DINER PARKING LOT / INT. DINER - DAY #45#
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
Baby walks up to Doc. Shades firmly on. *The hum continues.*
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
DOC
|
|||
|
|
I called three times. Something wrong?
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
BABY
|
|||
|
|
No...
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
DOC
|
|||
|
|
What’s with you all of a sudden? You sweet on that waitress or something?
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
BABY
|
|||
|
|
No...
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
DOC
|
|||
|
|
Well, there’s good news and there’s good news. Good news is you’re paid in full. We’re all square. And then the *good news* is I got another job for ya. So maybe if you wanna get your waitress girlfriend there a rock or some fur, you’re gonna get a fat cut.
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
BABY
|
|||
|
|
She’s not my girlfriend...
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
DOC
|
|||
|
|
...So, you in?
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
BABY
|
|||
|
|
Am I in?
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
DOC
|
|||
|
|
One, don’t reply to my question with a question. Two, I ain’t in the habit of taking no for an answer. So, get in. I’m driving.
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
Doc opens the passenger door. From inside, DEBORA puzzles at this well dressed older man opening the door for Baby.
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
Baby looks at Debora one last time, takes a breath. Then jumps into the passenger seat. They disappear.
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
INT. DOC’S MERC - LATER #46#
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
**‘Here We Go’ by Mister Scruff.**
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
Doc drives the Merc down a street with palm trees on either side. But this is not Sunset Boulevard. It’s Watts. Baby looks out of the window. His stomach sinking.
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
DOC
|
|||
|
|
You’re not going to ask why?
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
BABY
|
|||
|
|
Why?
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
DOC
|
|||
|
|
Why I’m driving?
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
BABY
|
|||
|
|
Why are you driving?
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
DOC
|
|||
|
|
What I’m alluding to Baby, is that you don’t have to drive forever. You haven’t done me wrong yet, have you?
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
BABY
|
|||
|
|
No.
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
DOC
|
|||
|
|
No you haven’t. I don’t think you have the fuck up gene. Not like your dad.
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
Baby says nothing.
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
DOC (CONT'D)
|
|||
|
|
You keep going like you’re going, you can leave the wheels behind some day. How does that sound?
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
BABY
|
|||
|
|
I don’t know sir.
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
DOC
|
|||
|
|
What don’t you know?
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
BABY
|
|||
|
|
I know what I’m good at.
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
DOC
|
|||
|
|
And I ain’t seen you break a sweat doing it. I’m just saying, there’s other jobs in your future. If you want to shift up a gear.
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
Baby looks out of the window. Doc seems offended, then smiles.
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
DOC (CONT'D)
|
|||
|
|
Sure. You can think about it first.
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
EXT. US POST OFFICE. WATTS - DAY #47#
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
Doc pulls into a unremarkable strip mall that houses a post office. Construction is occurring nearby. The noise is disorienting. It is hot outside. Sticky. Close.
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
DOC
|
|||
|
|
This place doesn’t get rolled as much as you’d think. Most people get scared off by the area. But we ain’t most people.
|
|||
|
|
(looks at watch)
|
|||
|
|
It will be ripe around this time tomorrow. So what do you say? You wanna go for third time lucky?
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
Baby looks at the immediate area, feels uneasy. Turns to Doc.
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
BABY
|
|||
|
|
Can I just drive? Have my music?
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
Doc looks at him, then shakes his head, smiling.
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
DOC
|
|||
|
|
Sure you can. But I want you to do something for me right now. I want you to go in there. Make a note of the number and position of cameras, the number of registers open, number of employees and number of customers. Is there a guard? Is he armed? Is there bandit glass? You’re not a face so it will be cool. Here’s some currency to get changed. Take your buds out and shades off. Less suspicious.
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
Baby does so.
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
DOC (CONT'D)
|
|||
|
|
Oh and take him too.
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
Doc motions to the backseat. There is an EIGHT YEAR OLD KID sitting on the backseat. He has his own phones in, and is plugged into his PSP. He throws Baby a bored look.
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
INT. US POST OFFICE - DAY #48#
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
Baby enters the post office. An alien environment to him.
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
It’s an impersonal space. Like a bank, but without couches and complimentary coffee. A security guard is present. The counter is wide open, a heavy door protects the back room.
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
Without music playing, we again hear the hum in his ears. It’s an unsettling noise that accentuates Baby’s unease. It is also intensified by the whine of computers and cameras in the room.
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
Baby cases. He counts the number of cameras (three) and the number of registers (six). There are a few (eight) customers doing business at the (four) registers open.
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
He mouths the numbers. The Kid tugs on Baby’s leg. Whispers.
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
THE KID
|
|||
|
|
No bandit glass. One guard unarmed, three cameras, six registers, two open, eight customers, four employees.
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
BABY
|
|||
|
|
Thanks.
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
They wait in line. The kid continues playing on his PSP.
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
BABY (CONT'D)
|
|||
|
|
You okay?
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
KID
|
|||
|
|
I get bored of this.
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
BABY
|
|||
|
|
Yeah. Me too.
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
Baby reaches his TELLER, a sweet faced lady, some jewelry, personal flare, a small crucifix. He hands her some pesos.
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
NICE LADY TELLER
|
|||
|
|
Back from vacation?
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
BABY
|
|||
|
|
Uh. Yeah.
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
NICE LADY TELLER
|
|||
|
|
Oh it would be real nice to get away. With all this heat.
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
BABY
|
|||
|
|
Yes, ma’am.
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
NICE LADY TELLER
|
|||
|
|
How old is your boy?
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
BABY
|
|||
|
|
Four?
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
THE KID
|
|||
|
|
Eight.
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
BABY
|
|||
|
|
They grow up so fast.
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
The Teller is bemused. She hands back some dollars.
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
NICE LADY TELLER
|
|||
|
|
Does he have a name?
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
BABY
|
|||
|
|
You do don’t you?
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
THE KID
|
|||
|
|
Samm.
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
NICE LADY TELLER
|
|||
|
|
Well Samm. I have a mint with your name on it.
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
The Teller passes a mint across, smiling sweetly.
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
BABY
|
|||
|
|
Thank you.
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
Baby has a sudden flicker of concern. Politely asks.
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
BABY (CONT'D)
|
|||
|
|
Are you here tomorrow?
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
NICE LADY TELLER
|
|||
|
|
Sure am. Workin’ 9 to 5. Just like Dolly.
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
BABY
|
|||
|
|
Dolly?
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
NICE LADY TELLER
|
|||
|
|
Dolly Parton. ‘9 to 5’.
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
BABY
|
|||
|
|
Oh yeah. I like Dolly.
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
NICE LADY TELLER
|
|||
|
|
Who doesn’t? *‘Everybody wants happiness, nobody wants pain, but you can’t have a rainbow without a little rain’.* Wise lady.
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
BABY
|
|||
|
|
She is.
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
INT. DOC'S MERC - MOMENTS LATER #49#
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
Baby jumps back in shotgun. Samm in the back.
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
DOC
|
|||
|
|
So?
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
BABY
|
|||
|
|
No bandit glass. One guard unarmed, three cameras, six registers, four open, eight customers.
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
The kid coughs. Mouths ‘four employees’.
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
BABY (CONT'D)
|
|||
|
|
And four employees.
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
DOC
|
|||
|
|
Anything else?
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
BABY
|
|||
|
|
The teller seemed nice.
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
THE KID
|
|||
|
|
Yeah, that lady gave me a mint.
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
DOC
|
|||
|
|
She did?
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
THE KID
|
|||
|
|
Yeah. She did seem real nice. You probably wouldn’t even need to use a gun with her. Just say boo and she’ll give you the big bills first.
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
DOC
|
|||
|
|
Chips off the block.
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
Doc smiles. Baby does too, but only for Doc’s benefit. When Baby looks out of the window, his expression clouds again.
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
DOC (O.S.) (CONT'D)
|
|||
|
|
So you think about it?
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
INT. FREIGHT ELEVATOR - AFTERNOON #50#
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
**‘Threshold’ by Steve Miller Band.**
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
CLUNK. The elevator doors close on Baby and Doc like a prison cell. Baby looks trapped as he and Doc go up in the world.
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
DOC
|
|||
|
|
My offer.
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
BABY
|
|||
|
|
Yes...
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
DOC
|
|||
|
|
I’m thinking about your future. Are you?
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
BABY
|
|||
|
|
I am...
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
DOC
|
|||
|
|
And I don’t offer these positions lightly Baby. You wouldn’t want me to be offended would you?
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
BABY
|
|||
|
|
No.
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
Doc eyeballs Baby. Unsure if there’s hesitation or insolence.
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
DOC
|
|||
|
|
It’s just when I give you something nice, maybe try and help you out of your situation and you go off day dreaming, I feel like I should go fuck myself.
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
Doc smiles broadly. This is somehow _much worse_. Baby takes a breath, takes his shades off and says the following.
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
BABY
|
|||
|
|
You and I are a team. There is nothing more important than our friendship.
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
Doc is surprised and touched.
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
DOC
|
|||
|
|
Well, good.
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
CLANK. The elevator reaches their floor. The doors open.
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
DOC (CONT'D)
|
|||
|
|
Normally I’d introduce you to the rest of your team. But in this case, you already met.
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
We see Baby take a big breath before walking back in.
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
INT. UNDECORATED LOFT - MOMENTS LATER #51#
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
Walking through the doorway of Doc’s warehouse, we see what /*large blank space on the alpha script. wonder how that happened. wonder if he just left it becuase it was incomplete.*/
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
BATS
|
|||
|
|
He’s got tinnitus. A hum in his drum that he has to drown out by playing music all the time.
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
DARLING
|
|||
|
|
You know who else does that exact same thing? Barbra Streisand.
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
Bats takes offense at this. Stares at Darling.
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
BATS
|
|||
|
|
_Do I look like a fucking guy who knows a fucking thing about Barbra fucking Streisand?_
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
BUDDY
|
|||
|
|
That’s my lady. Watch your mouth.
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
Bats just laughs. Darling takes a cue to powder her nose. Baby sits on the opposite side of the room to Bats. Buddy walks over.
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
BUDDY (CONT'D)
|
|||
|
|
That true? You listen to music to drown out a noise in your head?
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
BABY
|
|||
|
|
Uh. Yeah. And when I don’t want to think about stuff.
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
BUDDY
|
|||
|
|
It’s an escape. I get it.
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
BABY
|
|||
|
|
It gets me moving, you know. Music makes everything better.
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
BATS (O.S.)
|
|||
|
|
Oh, I am playing the violin right now.
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
BUDDY
|
|||
|
|
Knock it off.
|
|||
|
|
(sits, continues quietly)
|
|||
|
|
I used to do the same thing. Used to fool around with cars when I was a kid. Drive all night, hopped up, listening to the radio. I used to have a special tape. Used to have my track. My one killer track that would get me flying. You got one of those?
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
BABY
|
|||
|
|
Sure.
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
BUDDY
|
|||
|
|
What’s yours?
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
Baby speaks phonetically. Like he’s never said the title aloud.
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
BABY
|
|||
|
|
‘Bry-ton Rokk’.
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
BUDDY
|
|||
|
|
I know ‘Brighton Rock’. Queen right? My big brother used to play ‘Sheer Heart Attack’ right through the wall. You got it on there?
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
BABY
|
|||
|
|
Not this one.
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
Baby swaps out the iPod he has plugged in, for another one in his jacket. His deep pockets have lots of devices it seems.
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
BABY (CONT'D)
|
|||
|
|
This one.
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
BUDDY
|
|||
|
|
Play it.
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
Baby finds it. Plays the intro to **‘Brighton Rock’ by Queen.** Buddy takes one earphone. It’s a weirdly intimate image of two men sharing one pair of earphones.
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
*We hear a fairground organ. Then a chugging electric guitar.* Buddy nods, grins, reliving his teenage rock years.
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
Bats looks over at them both, incredulous.
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
BATS
|
|||
|
|
What are you faggots listening to?
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
BUDDY
|
|||
|
|
Queen.
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
BABY
|
|||
|
|
Queen.
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
BATS (CONT'D)
|
|||
|
|
First Streisand, now Queen? Are you three going to be belting out show tunes on the way to the job? You don’t need that shit. You don’t need a score for a score. Just drive a fucking car.
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
BUDDY
|
|||
|
|
Come on. You’ve been a wheel man. You never had a lucky song?
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
BATS
|
|||
|
|
A cigarette song? Yes. Aprés heist with a glass of scotch? Absolutely. But not on the way to a job. Don’t need any extra noise. I got enough demons making music up here.
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
BUDDY
|
|||
|
|
I believe that.
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
Bats warms to his theme. Turns his chair to face them.
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
BATS
|
|||
|
|
My old buddy wanted to pull out of a job because of what was playing on the radio. We’re about to go in, he won’t get out of the car. Why? Guns & Roses’ ‘Knockin’ On Heaven’s Door’ is playing on the FM. Gives him the heebs. He says we all gonna die in there.
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
BUDDY
|
|||
|
|
So you bailed on the job?
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
BATS
|
|||
|
|
Nah. We did it. And he was half right. He bought it. I didn’t. Fucking crazy.
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
Bats jumps up now. Seems to be a little coked up.
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
BATS (CONT'D)
|
|||
|
|
And I’ll tell you another thing.
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
BUDDY
|
|||
|
|
Can’t wait.
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
BATS
|
|||
|
|
My uncle used to be a movie nut. And we used to ride together, pulling off liquor stores. He was my road dog. And he used to say we should get chase music ready next time we get in a chase. I say like what? He says get the chase music from Bullitt. He was way into Steve McQueen, not Queen. And so I goes into some record store and I pocket me the Bullitt soundtrack. And guess what? We can’t find the track. Know why? There is no fucking chase music in Bullitt. It’s just the noise of the car.
|
|||
|
|
/*(MORE)*/
|
|||
|
|
So I said to my uncle, that’s the only music you need, the sound of a 390 V8 in a third gear four-wheel slide, there's your music. My uncle didn’t believe me, he said there’s definitely music in the Bullitt chase and I said yeah there is, it’s VROOOOM VROOOOOOM VROOOOOOM.
|
|||
|
|
(...)
|
|||
|
|
This was all before I stabbed him.
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
BUDDY
|
|||
|
|
All your stories end with someone dying?
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
BATS
|
|||
|
|
I guess you’ll find out Buddy.
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
BUDDY
|
|||
|
|
Oh, that’s funny.
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
Bats grins at Buddy. Darling re-enters. Senses tension.
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
DARLING
|
|||
|
|
What’s funny?
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
BABY
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
What’s Bullitt?
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
Doc clicks his fingers.
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
DOC
|
|||
|
|
I need eyes and ears open, people.
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
BUDDY
|
|||
|
|
You got it, Doc. What’s happening?
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
DOC
|
|||
|
|
Watts. That’s what’s happening.
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
INT. UNDECORATED LOFT - MOMENTS LATER #52#
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
**‘This Is Soul’ by Paul Nero.**
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
Doc relates the plan on the chalkboard. Again Baby drowns this out with *incongruously jazzy music* in his ears.
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
This time Baby only half watches. He looks up at the lights, blots them out with his fingers *in time with the music. He then plays with TOY CARS on the table. But makes them CRASH into one another. The song ends* as Doc wraps up.
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
DOC
|
|||
|
|
You get all that Baby?
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
All eyes are on Baby to reiterate the plan. But he is not as impressive as before, stuttering through the following.
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
BABY
|
|||
|
|
Uh. The plan is hit this post office.
|
|||
|
|
You know a guy who has a...
|
|||
|
|
(stalls)
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
DOC
|
|||
|
|
Money order machine.
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
BABY
|
|||
|
|
We get the order slips themselves and it’s literally a license to print money. Every money order is a potential 700 dollars, each box of money orders has 250 slips in there. That’s 175 K for every box you get...
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
DOC
|
|||
|
|
And for the icing on top?
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
BABY
|
|||
|
|
Tomorrow is the day after people get their welfare, which means there’s a lot of their cash in there tomorrow afternoon. Plan is...go in there. Get the money orders. And the cash. I get a used car as the g-ride and the switch car is one of ours. We come back here after and uh...that’s it.
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
DOC
|
|||
|
|
You missed stuff.
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
Baby goes red. Like a child embarrassed in front of class.
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
BUDDY
|
|||
|
|
The plan is that Darling goes in first. Then me and Bats. I take her hostage, put shotgun to her head.
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
DARLING
|
|||
|
|
We’ve role-played this a lot.
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
BUDDY
|
|||
|
|
That gets the door open. And gets us where the money is. And where the money orders are.
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
DOC
|
|||
|
|
And the guns?
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
BABY
|
|||
|
|
I don’t know...
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
BATS
|
|||
|
|
I got some contacts to get us hardware that’s fresh and clean. Keep up Rain Man, we picking it up tonight.
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
DOC
|
|||
|
|
And then what are you going to do?
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
Baby stalls. Doc is disappointed. Becomes more intense.
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
DOC (CONT'D)
|
|||
|
|
You’re going to stay here tonight. There’s a lot of heat around and we need to mix up our routines. So you guys better learn to live together.
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
Bats breaks into a wide toothy grin.
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
BATS
|
|||
|
|
Oh, we in bed together now!
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
INT. ‘96 CADILLAC DEVILLE - NIGHT #53#
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
**‘Nowhere To Run’ by Martha and the Vandellas.**
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
Baby drives. Bats in shotgun. Buddy and Darling in back. She sings along. She has some really good lungs.
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
DARLING
|
|||
|
|
*“Nowhere to run to Baby!”*
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
For once, everyone in the car is enjoying the music. Everyone except Baby, who looks like he wants to be somewhere, anywhere else.
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
On the line *“I know you know you’re no good for me”*, Baby looks at Bats, a dread descending. Bats motions to pull over.
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
INT./EXT. CADILLAC DEVILLE/GAS STATION - NIGHT #54#
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
Bats jumps out of the passenger door.
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
BATS
|
|||
|
|
I gotta take a leak. You guys want anything while I’m in there?
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
Everyone shrugs a negative response.
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
BATS (CONT'D)
|
|||
|
|
Gum? How about you Darling? Gum?
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
BUDDY
|
|||
|
|
Sure, I’ll take some gum.
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
Bats saunters off. Baby watches him walk up to the gas station where a MALE CLERK is behind the counter.
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
Buddy and Darling smooch. Baby glances at this in his rear view.
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
BUDDY (CONT'D)
|
|||
|
|
Hey. Not in front of the Baby.
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
DARLING
|
|||
|
|
He don’t mind. And I never seen you complain when I put on a show before.
|
|||
|
|
(another noisy smooch)
|
|||
|
|
How much do you think there’s going to be tomorrow?
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
BUDDY
|
|||
|
|
If it were just me, enough to live on for the year. But if we’re talking the two of us, enough for one weekend.
|
|||
|
|
(to Baby)
|
|||
|
|
My fiancé has expensive taste.
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
Darling breaks out of the embrace, hits him playfully.
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
DARLING
|
|||
|
|
Hey, blame it all on me why don’t cha? You got a problem too.
|
|||
|
|
(to Baby)
|
|||
|
|
This one has a gambling problem too.
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
BUDDY
|
|||
|
|
I do not have a gambling problem. They call it gaming now.
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
DARLING
|
|||
|
|
Fine, we both have a gaming problem. See? That don’t sound so bad.
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
BUDDY
|
|||
|
|
Hey, it ain’t a problem if you keep winning, right Baby?
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
Baby looks back into the gas station. He can’t see Bats OR the clerk anymore. It doesn’t feel good at all. He mutters.
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
BABY
|
|||
|
|
Yessir.
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
DARLING
|
|||
|
|
Oh hey baby. Was going ask, what’s a good Egyptian reggae song?
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
BABY
|
|||
|
|
...‘Egyptian Reggae’.
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
The door opens. A grinning Bats is back. He dumps whole armfuls of chewing gum onto Buddy. Packets and packets.
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
BUDDY
|
|||
|
|
The fuck? Did you just swipe this?
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
BATS
|
|||
|
|
You said you wanted gum! What am I going to do, pay for it?
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
Baby looks back to the gas station. Still can’t see the clerk. He peels out fast.
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
INT./EXT. CADILLAC DEVILLE/OUTSIDE TRAIN YARD - EVENING #55#
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
**‘Fog On The Hudson’ by Moondog.**
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
The gang wait in the dark outside a deserted train yard. Headlights off. It’s eerie quiet. Inside, everyone chews gum. Save for Baby who doesn’t look like he wants to play anymore.
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
Bats flexes his hands. We see his single glove.
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
DARLING
|
|||
|
|
The one glove? Is that a Michael Jackson thing?
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
BATS
|
|||
|
|
Fuck no. It’s not a Michael Jackson thing. It’s all me. I wanna make an impression.
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
BUDDY
|
|||
|
|
Oh, you make an impression.
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
BATS
|
|||
|
|
They don’t know the name Bats but you better believe they heard of the One Glove Bandit. I come into a bank and the business manager sees this glove come off, he knows I mean business.
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
DARLING
|
|||
|
|
You not worried you’ll get recognized?
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
BATS
|
|||
|
|
That’s the genius Darling. When I think they’re onto me, I just -
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
He slips on a second glove too.
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
BATS (CONT'D)
|
|||
|
|
And now I could be anyone.
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
BUDDY
|
|||
|
|
Anyone wearing gloves. In summer.
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
BATS
|
|||
|
|
You got it.
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
BUDDY
|
|||
|
|
Whatever you say, MJ.
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
BATS
|
|||
|
|
Fuck you Buddy. I did the one glove before him.
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
BUDDY
|
|||
|
|
How old are you?
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
BATS
|
|||
|
|
I am thirty seven years young.
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
BUDDY
|
|||
|
|
Jackson did the one glove at least thirty years ago. So what, you were robbing banks at the age of five?
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
Bats shrugs as if to say “Maybe I was...”.
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
BUDDY (CONT'D)
|
|||
|
|
You’re crazy Bats.
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
BATS
|
|||
|
|
Hey, your parents call you Bats, you gonna turn out crazy.
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
BUDDY
|
|||
|
|
Come on. Bats isn’t your real name.
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
BATS
|
|||
|
|
You doubting I’m Bats? I can show you my ID anytime buddy.
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
BUDDY
|
|||
|
|
/*second blank page I've seen. This skips scene #56# */
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
That doesn’t sound good. /*I can tell this is an action and not dialogue based on the formatting.*/
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
INT. ABANDONED RAIL YARD - MOMENTS LATER #57#
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
**‘Tequila’ by The Button Down Brass.**
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
*Cowbells play in Baby’s ears. A bass part kicks in as -*
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
Our foursome approach the truck and the semi-circle of black SUVs with tinted windows. In the center of this gathering, portable work lights illuminate crates covered by a tarp.
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
Four linen suited gorillas flank the crates (we’ll call them FARMERS) and a more urbane man (THE BUTCHER) stands in the middle, quietly makes a list to himself.
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
As they walk up. Bats discreetly offers Baby a pistol.
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
BATS
|
|||
|
|
Take this. Look serious.
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
Baby looks at the pistol being offered. Stalls on taking it.
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
BUDDY
|
|||
|
|
Is he going to need it?
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
BATS
|
|||
|
|
He needs to swagger in like he’s got one. Let ‘em know we ain’t a bunch of pussies. Darling excluded of course.
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
DARLING
|
|||
|
|
Oh please.
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
BATS
|
|||
|
|
Baby, take the gun. It’s not like I’m asking you to hold my cock.
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
DARLING
|
|||
|
|
It ain’t a million miles away.
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
Baby takes the pistol, just as they come within shouting range of the men gathered around the crates.
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
The tallest of the ‘Farmers’, ARMIE, a thick-necked giant looks straight at Baby, *with his earphones in and shades on.*
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
ARMIE
|
|||
|
|
Who’s the geek?
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
BATS
|
|||
|
|
This is our Baby Boy.
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
ARMIE
|
|||
|
|
What’s with the ears? That a wire?
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
BATS
|
|||
|
|
It’s just his tunes. He’s a little Looney Tunes and he needs his tunes.
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
ARMIE
|
|||
|
|
Oh yeah? How we supposed to know it’s not the police or something?
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
BATS
|
|||
|
|
Is it the police?
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
BABY
|
|||
|
|
It’s not The Police.
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
ARMIE
|
|||
|
|
Yeah? What is it?
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
Baby looks at his iPod display.
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
BABY
|
|||
|
|
‘Tequila’.
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
BATS
|
|||
|
|
Tequila! Hey, why did the Mexican push his wife off a cliff? Ah, I ruined it-
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
BUDDY
|
|||
|
|
To business?
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
The Butcher starts proceedings by throwing back the tarp. The crates are stencilled with ‘LAPD’. On top of them is a huge smorgasbord of GUNS AND AMMO. Black gun metal gleams at them.
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
THE BUTCHER
|
|||
|
|
Tonight gentlemen, ladies, we have only the finest cuts of pork. Direct from local smokehouse.
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
On Darling: ‘What?’
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
THE BUTCHER (CONT'D)
|
|||
|
|
You are experienced butchers yourselves, so as I am sure you are aware the humble pig can be cooked from nose to tail. So I can offer you nine cuts at the best prices in all of Christendom.
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
The Butcher motions in turn to Berettas, Smith & Wessons, Glocks, Kimbers, Colts, Heckler & Kochs and Remingtons.
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
THE BUTCHER (CONT'D)
|
|||
|
|
So let’s dive in head first: from the jowl we have the God-sent Roman bacon that is Guanciale. Actually from the shoulder of the hog comes the Boston Butt, a tough but tasty cut. Then the Picnic Shoulder is a favorite for those who enjoy the smoking of pigs. Then center cut loin, double cut pork chops, baby back ribs, pork belly and Serrano ham on the back leg. Every one delicious.
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
The Butcher gestures to a wide array of ammo and grenades.
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
THE BUTCHER (CONT'D)
|
|||
|
|
And of course, we also have a fine selection of sausages.
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
Buddy, Darling and Baby look bemused. Bats claps his hands.
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
BATS
|
|||
|
|
I’m hungry.
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
THE BUTCHER
|
|||
|
|
Fantastique. And how will we be paying this evening gentlemen... ladies?
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
BATS
|
|||
|
|
Do you take bullets?
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
THE BUTCHER
|
|||
|
|
How do you mean?
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
BATS
|
|||
|
|
Like this.
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
*A trumpet hits a loud blast of ‘F’, as suddenly -*
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
BRAP. Bats draws and shoots the Butcher POINT BLANK in the face. He drops. Dead. WHAT THE -
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
The big Farmer guys, caught off guard, reach for their arms. Stunned, Buddy, Darling and Baby hit the deck.
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
Bats then SMOKES the nearest Farmer. As his body falls, Bats rolls down next to his corpse. Grabs his machine pistol.
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
*The song hits a breakdown where duelling drummers madly flail away at each other in furious patterns as -*
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
BRAT BRAT BRAT. The remaining farmers LET RIP with their machine pistols and shotguns at the air Bats just vacated.
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
_The syncopation of music and action is shocking and awesome._
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
Over crates and car hoods, the fire fight between Bats and the three Farmers as *the duelling drum solo intensifies, each burst of gunfire matched by a burst of drums.*
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
The noises echo around the train yard. A portable light is knocked over, creating dramatic under lighting. Buddy and Darling are forced to join the violent melee.
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
From the deck, Baby has *a sideways angle on a six way fight.* Gunfire builds. Shells drop. Car windows smash.
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
*The drums on the track get louder* and louder as Baby watches his colleagues spew hot lead. BRAT BRAT BRAT BRAT.
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
One Farmer aims at Baby. Baby rolls out of the way and runs like hell. He is trailed by bullets, dives over a crate for safety.
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
*The tempo peaks, there’s a last burst of drums and guns. And -*
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
Baby looks up. The train yard is quiet again. There are five bodies on the ground that appeared to be alive seconds ago.
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
*He cannot comprehend what he has just witnessed.*
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
Bats is out of ammo. Grabs a nearby clip. Winks to Buddy, who strides over and goes to strike Bats with his pistol.
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
BATS (CONT'D)
|
|||
|
|
What the fuck?
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
Bats dodges and shoves Buddy right back.
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
BATS (CONT'D)
|
|||
|
|
Hey! I just got us some hardware!
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
We’ve never seen Buddy *this mad*. _It’s not fun._
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
BUDDY
|
|||
|
|
You shot the gunsmiths! I thought these were your contacts?
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
BATS
|
|||
|
|
Yeah. They *were* my contacts.
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
BUDDY
|
|||
|
|
Are you fucking crazy?
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
BATS
|
|||
|
|
I believe we established I was. Why, do you still wanna see my ID?
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
BUDDY
|
|||
|
|
You didn’t think to tell us your plan? We come in here with no masks, no nothing -
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
DARLING
|
|||
|
|
Yeah, what if they recognized us?
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
BATS
|
|||
|
|
Those what-ifs are dead Darling. They’re ghosts now. Only way they’ll finger us is through a Ouija board.
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
BUDDY
|
|||
|
|
Well your name is only four letters to spell out.
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
BATS
|
|||
|
|
Pah. Bats ain’t my real name.
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
*In ‘Tequila’, a huge trill of brass sounds as -*
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
We see one of the farmers is not dead. He runs past Baby, toward one of the SUVs. Bats yells at Baby, who is closest.
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
BATS (CONT'D)
|
|||
|
|
Don’t let him get away, Baby!
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
Baby has his gun in his hand, but does not fire. The farmer jumps in the SUV. Makes a break for the entrance. Fuck -
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
Instead Bats lets rip at the fleeing vehicle. Buddy and Darling grab a shotgun and mini pistol from the dead and also unload.
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
Baby hangs back and pointedly does not join in with the shooting. His face says everything. *He doesn’t want this.*
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
*Wailing brass, furious drums and hammond organs score* a barrage of bullets that stop the escapee dead in his tracks.
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
We hear a sustained HORN, as the driver slumps on his dash.
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
BATS (CONT'D)
|
|||
|
|
Baby. Get us out. Move!
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
No time to argue. Baby grabs another abandoned SUV as Bats, Darling and Buddy grab as many guns as they can carry.
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
Baby starts the car. In his haste, one ear bud has dropped out, meaning that Bats can hear the track as he jumps in the passenger seat with a lot of hardware in his arms.
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
Baby waits for the others, then floors it.
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
*The brass in the final bridge reaches a resounding climax* as they pass their old Cadillac, Bats takes a grenade, flicks the safety and throws it into the open window.
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
As the car goes KA-BOOM in the night, Bats sings along -
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
BATS (CONT'D)
|
|||
|
|
Te-quiiiii-laaaaaaa!
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
INT. SUV - NIGHT #58#
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
The foursome drive in the newly acquired SUV. All are silent. Bats is still jonesing from the previous encounter.
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
Baby drives past his usual DINER and subtly looks in to see if Debora is working. Before he can establish this -
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
BATS
|
|||
|
|
Hey, pull in here.
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
Baby does not. Keeps driving.
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
BATS (CONT'D)
|
|||
|
|
Pull in here. I’m hungry.
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
BABY
|
|||
|
|
_No._
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
BATS
|
|||
|
|
Stop the car.
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
Baby stops. Bats fixes him. Furious.
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
BATS (CONT'D)
|
|||
|
|
*No?* You telling *me* no?
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
BABY
|
|||
|
|
_No_. I don’t want to go in there.
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
Baby is _firm_. Bats breaks into a sickly grin. Cackles.
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
BATS
|
|||
|
|
Well hel-lo Baby. I never seen you so mad. You saw a bunch of bodies hit the floor and you didn’t say nothing, but for some reason, you get all mad about this one diner.
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
BABY
|
|||
|
|
I don’t like it in there. It _sucks_.
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
BATS
|
|||
|
|
Well on that recommendation, we _gots_ to go in.
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
INT. HALF EMPTY DINER - NIGHT #59#
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
**‘When Something Is Wrong With My Baby’ by Sam & Dave.**
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
This song plays on the diner’s stereo system. Opens with -
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
*SAM & DAVE*
|
|||
|
|
~"When something is wrong with my baby, something is wrong with me."
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
Debora is dealing with one sole customer at the counter, she looks bored and distant. Then the door opens and in walks -
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
An intense looking Bats, a grim Buddy and Darling. And behind them, Baby. He pointedly looks at Debora, his sunglasses very firmly on. He is not smiling. She’s never seemed so far away.
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
She gets that *something’s up.* It’s as ominous as him and Doc in the parking lot. She’s also never seen him with sunglasses on.
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
In fact she’s *never seen* a booth of four people all with sunglasses on at night. It’s as weird to us as it is to her.
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
At the booth, Bats soaks up the tension. Loves it.
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
BATS
|
|||
|
|
Now why you all still mad at me?
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
BUDDY
|
|||
|
|
Because you have a death wish and we don’t.
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
Buddy talks calmly, but intensely. Tears a napkin into strips. Baby and Darling are caught awkwardly in the middle.
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
BATS
|
|||
|
|
We’re all going to end up in a chair. Maybe see out your days in a lawn
|
|||
|
|
chair at Holiday Villa, maybe settle with the electric one. Might be just me, but the latter sounds funner.
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
BUDDY
|
|||
|
|
It’s just you. You revel in bad choices. In bad luck. And that’s bad business.
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
BATS
|
|||
|
|
What’s bad luck to you are more open doors for me. So I’m gonna pick thirteen as my lucky number and make hay while you Hail Mary.
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
BUDDY
|
|||
|
|
Whatever you do on your own time is fine. What you do within this group affects us all.
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
BATS
|
|||
|
|
Don’t worry Buddy. I ain’t gonna mess up. I know you have noses to feed.
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
BUDDY
|
|||
|
|
Oh. Because you *never* take drugs.
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
Baby has been watching Debora *the whole time*. She comes over. Senses the sour mood. Plays it cool.
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
DEBORA
|
|||
|
|
Can I get you anything to drink?
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
BATS
|
|||
|
|
I think it’s Coke all around.
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
DEBORA
|
|||
|
|
Three cokes.
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
This strikes Darling as odd. She looks at Baby, who stares down at his menu. When Debora leaves, Bats continues.
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
BATS
|
|||
|
|
Here’s the thing. You rob to support a drug habit. I take drugs to support a robbery habit.
|
|||
|
|
(to Baby)
|
|||
|
|
Baby boy. What you do this for?
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
Baby’s glances at Debora. But says nothing.
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
BATS (CONT'D)
|
|||
|
|
The cash? The girls? Or is it just the smell of burning rubber?
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
BABY
|
|||
|
|
I guess.
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
BATS
|
|||
|
|
So, we in agreement. We’re all about the white line fever.
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
BUDDY
|
|||
|
|
Yeah. You’re real funny.
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
During this exchange, Debora looks at Baby, deeply concerned.
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
BATS
|
|||
|
|
I’m deadly serious. This is my job. It’s you two who’s on vacation.
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
BUDDY
|
|||
|
|
What is that supposed to mean?
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
BATS
|
|||
|
|
You’re Wall Street right?
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
BUDDY
|
|||
|
|
Doc tell you that?
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
BATS
|
|||
|
|
Doc tells me nothing. I am just guessing.
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
Buddy glowers. Sub zero sarcasm.
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
BUDDY
|
|||
|
|
I would be fascinated to hear your thoughts.
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
BATS
|
|||
|
|
Stop me if I’m way off. But I’m thinking you were a stockbroker, maybe with a previous fiance, maybe a wife, maybe kids. You’re making good money, you’re good at your work, but you also play hard. And you like the wild side too much, get in too deep, rack up debts that would make even your employers blush. So either you get laid off or someone wants to break your legs. You decide to run off, maybe take your favorite lap dancer in tow, head out to the desert and disappear into your double life, concentrate on the three things that get you high: the money, the boogaloo, the sex, the action. Okay four things. But am I close?
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
Buddy is still unamused. Then -
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
DARLING
|
|||
|
|
I will have you know I was a feature dancer, not a lap dancer.
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
BATS
|
|||
|
|
What’s the difference?
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
DARLING
|
|||
|
|
It means my name was on the marquee. And I could charge quadruple for dances.
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
BATS
|
|||
|
|
Well then ignore everything I said.
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
BUDDY
|
|||
|
|
You doubt my credentials?
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
BATS
|
|||
|
|
Just saying you’re on a trip right now. And maybe it’s one you’re not coming back from. Either way, if you’re from Wall Street you’re already a bigger crook than I’ll ever be.
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
BUDDY
|
|||
|
|
Two things. Don’t underestimate me. And don’t ever speak ill about my lady. Or I will see red and you will see nothing but black.
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
Buddy is _scary_ when angered. Bats breaks into a big grin.
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
BATS
|
|||
|
|
Where did you find her? Vegas? Reno? I think maybe it was Morongo.
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
DARLING
|
|||
|
|
What makes you say that?
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
BATS
|
|||
|
|
‘Cause that’s where the *Morons-Go*.
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
Buddy’s eyes glaze over. He shifts in his seat. Grips a fork. It’s fucking terrifying to see him shift. Bats just laughs.
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
BATS (CONT'D)
|
|||
|
|
You seeing this Baby? This is what happens when a man loves a woman.
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
Debora comes over with the three Cokes.
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
DEBORA
|
|||
|
|
What can I get you to eat?
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
BATS
|
|||
|
|
These cats need a happy meal. But I’m just gonna get the check... Debora.
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
Baby sees that *for the first time*. Debora is wearing a ‘Debora’ name tag. Bats then throws an arm around Baby.
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
BATS (CONT'D)
|
|||
|
|
Oh and my friend here hates this place. I think it’s okay. So I wanna ask you, what’s his problem?
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
Baby cannot look up at Debora. She replies coldly.
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
DEBORA
|
|||
|
|
Maybe your friend would like to fill out a suggestion slip and tell us how
|
|||
|
|
we could improve our service.
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
Debora puts their check on the table and leaves without looking at Baby. Darling guesses something’s up.
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
DARLING
|
|||
|
|
Are you two fucking? Or you were fucking? You fucked her and didn’t call her back. Or she didn’t call. Something’s up. I can definitely smell fuck in the air.
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
Baby goes red. Wants to curl up and die.
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
BATS
|
|||
|
|
I don’t know about that.
|
|||
|
|
(to Buddy and Darling)
|
|||
|
|
You two, I got down pat. I can’t get a read on Dum Dum here.
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
We let the song play as Baby looks up at Debora behind the counter. Longs to be anywhere else with her. When-
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
BATS (CONT'D)
|
|||
|
|
Come on, let’s bounce. You guys go on out to the car. I got this.
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
Darling and Buddy leave. Baby moves past Bats and sees -
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
Bats pull the gun from his jacket. Then, like lightning -
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
**_Baby GRABS Bats’ arm. Firmly stops him._**
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
*Bats is shocked at this action. Baby has never touched him before and now holds down Bats’ gun arm with real force.*
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
Buddy turns and sees this too. He checks to see if anyone in the diner sees what’s going on. They don’t.
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
*SAM & DAVE*
|
|||
|
|
~“When something is wrong with my baby, something is wrong with me.”
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
Baby looks determined, emotional. Bats then breaks into another wide grin. Impressed. He backs off.
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
BATS
|
|||
|
|
Be sure to tip the nice lady.
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
Baby takes the check and goes to the counter. He puts it down and goes to exit, without saying anything to Debora.
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
Debora sees under the check folder. An iPod. The pink one.
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
DEBORA
|
|||
|
|
Hey, you left your -
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
Baby doesn’t look back. Carries on walking out.
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
Debora looks down to see. Cued up on the iPod. ‘Debora’.
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
She looks at Baby silently depart. She’s worried for him.
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
INT. UNDECORATED LOFT - NIGHT #60#
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
Doc enters. He’s instantly aware of -
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
A mood. And three camps. Bats on the opposite side of the room to Buddy and Darling, while Baby lies on his makeshift bed in another part of the room, facing away. His headphones are on.
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
DOC
|
|||
|
|
Who died?
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
BUDDY
|
|||
|
|
A better question: ‘who didn’t?’.
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
DOC
|
|||
|
|
I count four. Something happen I should know about?
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
BUDDY
|
|||
|
|
A little trouble procuring the hardware.
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
DOC
|
|||
|
|
Trouble?
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
BATS
|
|||
|
|
There was no trouble. Just a little haggling.
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
Doc senses there’s something else to tell. Gets serious.
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
DOC
|
|||
|
|
This going to bite me in the ass?
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
Buddy and Darling say nothing. Bats grins wide.
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
BATS
|
|||
|
|
Nothing’s going to bite no-one. We got this Doc. You got no worries with us three here.
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
DOC
|
|||
|
|
You three?
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
BATS
|
|||
|
|
I can’t speak for the mute.
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
Doc looks to Baby. He closes a partition in the loft space, so Baby is now separated from them.
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
DOC
|
|||
|
|
Something wrong with Baby? He’s been a problem?
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
BUDDY
|
|||
|
|
Jesus. *He’s* not the problem.
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
Bats warms to this new theme, keen to distract Doc.
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
BATS
|
|||
|
|
I don’t know. I’m starting to think he is the crazy one on this team.
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
DARLING
|
|||
|
|
Riiight.
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
BATS
|
|||
|
|
I saw the first glints of steel in Baby tonight, but not when he had a gun in his hand. He’s real quiet then he can get real emotional. And over some dumb waitress.
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
This registers with Doc.
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
DOC
|
|||
|
|
A waitress, huh?
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
BATS
|
|||
|
|
All that emotion worries me Doc.
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
DOC
|
|||
|
|
What are you worried about other than him turning left, him turning right and him knowing when the light turns green?
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
BATS
|
|||
|
|
Him turning yellow and squealing?
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
DOC
|
|||
|
|
That ain’t gonna happen. He squeals on the asphalt not to the cops.
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
BATS
|
|||
|
|
And you done how many jobs with him?
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
DOC
|
|||
|
|
Hey mouth, if you can’t take my fucking word for something, get back in the elevator.
|
|||
|
|
(...)
|
|||
|
|
I’ll bet that kid started earlier than any of you. You ever hear of the Pacific Ghost?
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
BATS
|
|||
|
|
The joyrider?
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
DOC
|
|||
|
|
Used to bait cops by zooming through Malibu speed traps. Going 100 mph with his headlights off, brake lights disconnected. Begging the police to chase him. Then leaving ‘em in the dust. That was our boy.
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
BUDDY
|
|||
|
|
Wasn’t that like ten years ago?
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
DOC
|
|||
|
|
Like I said, that was our boy. He’s been boosting cars since he was old enough to see over the dash.
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
BUDDY
|
|||
|
|
So how’d you find him?
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
DOC
|
|||
|
|
He stole a Merc of mine. With a ton of my merch in it. I saw him do it too. I didn’t stop him right away either, because I was just like - the balls on this kid. He didn’t know who I was or what he was stealing but when I finally tracked him down I made sure to tell him who I was, what I do and what I am capable of. And he went on to pay me off and show me what he’s capable of. I figured if he likes to joy ride so much, we might as well make some money from it.
|
|||
|
|
/*(MORE)*/
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
We see Baby is awake and listening through the partition.
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
DOC (CONT'D)
|
|||
|
|
Turns out his dad used to work for me way back. But that kid is a better criminal than his father ever was. Baby is going to do a great job tomorrow. And you are going come right back here and apologize to me. You mark my words.
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
Baby hears this, but doesn’t want to. He CLOSES HIS EYES.
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
**FLASHBACK: A HIGH PITCHED WHINE ON SOUNDTRACK**
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
*- We see YOUNG BABY sitting in the diner. His Mom is working at the counter talking to a male customer. Baby’s Dad is also present and staring at the male customer intensely.
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
- We then see Baby’s Mom in a modest recording studio. She is behind the glass and we cannot hear what she is singing.
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
- In the studio are Baby’s unsmiling father and the (younger) Elderly Man. He is an engineer behind the mixing desk. As Baby’s Mom sings, the Elderly Man turns to Baby and gives a thumbs up.
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
- We see Young Baby in the backseat of a car, watching his Dad hold up a gas station clerk at gunpoint.
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
- Baby’s Dad dumps a bunch of CANDY BARS on the back seat.
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
- The Mom drives. She cries. The Dad yells.
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
- We see the car about to slam into the pick up truck-
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
- The candy falls off the back seat. So does the iPod.
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
- Young Baby closes his eyes. The WHINE peaks.*
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
INT. UNDECORATED LOFT - LATER #61#
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
**‘Ready Let’s Go’ by Boards of Canada.**
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
Some time later. Doc is gone. Bats sleeps in a chair. Buddy and Darling curl up on a couch.
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
Baby quickly gathers his things in the dark. And sneaks out.
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
INT. UNDERGROUND PARKING P3 - NIGHT #62#
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
Baby walks from the freight elevator to the SUV. He gets in. Starts up. But when he pulls out toward the exit.
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
Buddy is waiting for him. Blocking his path.
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
BUDDY
|
|||
|
|
Where you going, Baby?
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
BABY
|
|||
|
|
Coffee.
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
Buddy walks to the driver’s window. Baby remains very quiet.
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
BUDDY
|
|||
|
|
At 2AM? That doesn’t sound too smart. Or much like you either.
|
|||
|
|
(...)
|
|||
|
|
Look you’re a good kid. I said you shouldn’t have picked up that phone. But here you are. And that’s cool if you’re really committed to the job. But if you’re in it for the buzz, I say go on your Starbucks run and don’t come back. Because bad things happen.
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
BABY
|
|||
|
|
I know.
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
BUDDY
|
|||
|
|
Doc said your Dad was in this business.
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
BABY
|
|||
|
|
He was.
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
BUDDY
|
|||
|
|
But I’m not sure you are. You can’t dip your toes, you’re either in the pool or you’re not. If this is just your escape, then go.
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
BATS (O.S.)
|
|||
|
|
What we talking about here?
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
Bats is standing outside the elevator. Buddy covers.
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
BUDDY
|
|||
|
|
Just about how we should all be getting more sleep before tomorrow.
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
BATS
|
|||
|
|
It don’t look like that.
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
BUDDY
|
|||
|
|
What does it look like?
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
BATS
|
|||
|
|
Looks like he’s going somewhere at 2 in the morning. You going somewhere Baby?
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
Baby looks back to Buddy. Then to Bats.
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
BABY
|
|||
|
|
No...
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
BATS
|
|||
|
|
Good, because we gotta talk about this.
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
Bats is holding a Sony handheld cassette recorder. Baby searches his jacket for his. Bats stops him.
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
BATS (CONT'D)
|
|||
|
|
Yeah, it’s the same one.
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
INT. UNDECORATED LOFT - MOMENTS LATER #63#
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
A D90 audio cassette plays in the handheld recorder. Baby sits in the middle of the room. Forced to listen. *We can hear the hum in his ears again, underlining the tense mood.*
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
Buddy and Bats stand over him. Bats has his gun out. Darling sits in the corner. From the tape, we hear recent dialogue.
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
*DOC (ON TAPE)
|
|||
|
|
What are you worried about other than him turning left, him turning right and him knowing when the light turns green?
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
BATS (ON TAPE)
|
|||
|
|
Him turning yellow and squealing?*
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
Bats presses stop. He is deadly serious.
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
BATS (CONT'D)
|
|||
|
|
Now why you go and do that?
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
Baby stammers, but is aware he needs to speak up. And fast.
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
BABY
|
|||
|
|
I like to record stuff.
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
BATS
|
|||
|
|
And _why_ do you like to record stuff. Are you the police? Are you a snitch?
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
DARLING
|
|||
|
|
Didn’t Doc work with his Dad?
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
BATS
|
|||
|
|
That don’t mean nothing. He could be working out his daddy issues on us. Or maybe, just maybe he is fucking retarded. Are you?
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
Baby doesn’t want to answer that. Stalls.
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
DARLING
|
|||
|
|
I think he’s just acting the fool.
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
BATS
|
|||
|
|
I asked him. But ‘acting’ is right. What if this is a cover? What if Harpo here is a real Serpico?
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
All eyes on Baby.
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
BUDDY
|
|||
|
|
Speak up, Baby.
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
BABY
|
|||
|
|
I... I just like to listen to what people say. I don’t always understand first time out. So I listen back to the words. To understand. And I like to make music out of it. It’s just me fooling. Fooling around.
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
BATS
|
|||
|
|
That is one fucking dumbass excuse.
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
BUDDY
|
|||
|
|
To be fair, a cop would not come up with an excuse as fucking dumbass as that.
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
BATS
|
|||
|
|
I’m calling Doc.
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
Baby doesn’t want that to happen. Blurts out.
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
BABY
|
|||
|
|
I can play you one. Of my tapes. Of the music I make.
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
BUDDY
|
|||
|
|
Where are they?
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
BABY
|
|||
|
|
At home.
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
BUDDY
|
|||
|
|
Well, looks like we are going somewhere at 2 in the morning.
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
INT./EXT. SUV - MOMENTS LATER #64#
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
*The hum in Baby’s ears underscores this section*, adding uneasy menace as the SUV drives fast down deserted streets.
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
Baby is in the back seat. Buddy drives. Bats is in shotgun with his gun lightly trained on Baby. Stereo is silent.
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
BATS
|
|||
|
|
No music for you. You ain’t moving.
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
EXT. APARTMENT BLOCK - MOMENTS LATER #65#
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
The SUV pulls up outside Baby’s apartment block. Baby and Bats get out. Buddy stays in the car.
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
BATS
|
|||
|
|
Watch that fire escape.
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
INT. APARTMENT BLOCK - MOMENTS LATER #66#
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
Bats and Baby ascend in the extremely slow exposed elevator.
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
INT. BARE APARTMENT - MOMENTS LATER #67#
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
Baby walks in first. The TV is on, but barely illuminates the room. Bats enters, flicks the light switch. It’s still out.
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
Bats observes the dimly lit room. He’s both surprised and yet not at how bare and simple it is.
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
BATS
|
|||
|
|
This is your place?
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
BABY
|
|||
|
|
It’s my foster dad’s.
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
BATS
|
|||
|
|
And where’s he?
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
The Elderly Man is asleep in his chair. But Bats does not notice a person is present. It looks like a big old blanket.
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
BABY
|
|||
|
|
...He’s dead.
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
Baby does not acknowledge the old man. He walks right over to a pile of tapes on the kitchen counter.
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
He takes the pile of D30s. Turns to Bats and softly says.
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
BABY (CONT'D)
|
|||
|
|
Got ‘em.
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
BATS
|
|||
|
|
This better be good, Baby.
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
INT. UNDECORATED LOFT - LATER #68#
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
Buddy and Bats stand over Baby at the tape recorder. Darling, again, is in the corner. He presses play.
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
*The montage that plays is a collage of almost all dialogue we’ve heard so far. A nonsense medley of crosscut dialogue. It builds into odd rhythms. Sounding awesome, but absurd.*
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
Bats presses stop. Buddy shuts his eyes.
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
BATS
|
|||
|
|
What the fuck did I just listen to?
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
BABY
|
|||
|
|
Like I said. I was fooling around.
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
BATS
|
|||
|
|
Did we not establish what happens when you act the fool with me?
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
BABY
|
|||
|
|
I wasn’t acting. I am one.
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
A pause. Then -
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
DARLING
|
|||
|
|
Well hell, I like it. It’s funny.
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
BUDDY
|
|||
|
|
I say we get someone else.
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
BATS
|
|||
|
|
At this time of night?
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
BUDDY
|
|||
|
|
Anyone you’ve worked with that’s still alive?
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
BATS
|
|||
|
|
You two are still alive.
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
BUDDY
|
|||
|
|
I’m so honored.
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
BATS
|
|||
|
|
Lemme think about what to do while I give the kid a ride home.
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
Bats tucks his gun into his waistband and puts his jacket on.
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
Baby does not like the look of this. _He speaks firmly._
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
BABY
|
|||
|
|
I can do this. I’m driving tomorrow. I’m not retarded. I’m fast. *I’m driving.*
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
Buddy and Bats exchange looks.
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
DARLING
|
|||
|
|
Let him. So what? He recorded stuff. Big deal. I was kinda hoping someone got all the pork nonsense on tape because that was bananas.
|
|||
|
|
(...)
|
|||
|
|
Besides I kinda wanna hear the rest of the tape.
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
BATS
|
|||
|
|
Oh yeah? Well go get it.
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
Bats throws the D30 cassette out of the window.
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
EXT. ALLEY - EARLY MORNING #69#
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
We see a smashed cassette. The audio tape spooled out on the concrete like brown spaghetti. The morning sun rises.
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
INT. UNDECORATED LOFT - EARLY MORNING #70#
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
Doc enters to find Buddy, Darling & Bats dressed in civilian attire for the robbery. They look weirdly normal.
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
DOC
|
|||
|
|
Where’s Baby?
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
BUDDY
|
|||
|
|
I’m going to guess... in the car.
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
INT. UNDERGROUND PARKING P3 - MOMENTS LATER #71#
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
**‘Movement One’ by Herbie Flowers & Barry Morgan.**
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
PING. Buddy, Bats and Darling exit the elevator to find -
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
A blue Mitsubishi Galant. Baby at the wheel. Eyes fixed forward. Hands ten to two. *Music pumping on the stereo.*
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
The gang get in. Buddy and Darling in back. Bats in shotgun.
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
Bats kills the stereo. Produces a coke spoon. Takes a big snort.
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
BATS
|
|||
|
|
Now I’m going to make this clear. You can listen on your phones or do whatever it is you need to do. But I don’t want to hear none of your bullshit today.
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
Baby silently plugs his earphones into the iPod. The music continues in Baby’s head and our ears.
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
BUDDY
|
|||
|
|
Let’s get this over with.
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
Baby pulls out. Heads for the ‘EXIT’.
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
INT. MITSUBISHI GALANT - DAY #72#
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
**‘Music For The Head Ballet’ by The Bonzo Dog Doo Dah Band.**
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
*A solo harpsichord plays a jolly fairground intro as* the gang cruises down Century Boulevard. Very slowly.
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
*Baby listens to the music in his earphones* as they reach the intersection of Success Avenue. And find themselves in -
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
Gridlock. Some construction is up ahead. It’s the middle of the school run. Cars slow to a stop. It’s a bad time for a jam.
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
Baby signals, his indicator *in sync with the 4/4 tempo. The track becomes a woozy waltz, repeating a ‘down then up’ pattern that goes around and around as the traffic maddens.*
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
The Galant idles in the left hand lane. Baby begins to sweat. Unsure of the neighborhood. The air con blasting.
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
Bats’ cocaine seems to kick in, his restlessness *changing the simpatico of action and music from being magical to menacing.*
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
Buddy taps his fingers on a seat rest *in time with the music.* Darling flicks through the pages of a magazine, *also in time.* Bats cocks and uncocks his shotgun *in time.* Baby eyes this.
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
The whole hood is alive with incident, all in time with the track. Kids shouting. Angry neighbors. A police helicopter.
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
The sound of chopper blades prompts the gang to all look up. When they look back down a COP CAR is right alongside them.
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
_Their next door neighbor in the traffic jam is THE POLICE._
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
*A change of key in the track.* The four gang members all look straight forward, eyes fixed on the static road ahead. Then -
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
*The music resumes its woozy waltz* as the gang take turns to look at the cops. The glances are furtive first, then more confident. The dance of their turning heads *is very surreal.*
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
*As the melody accentuates the odd notes,* we see the cops look back at the gang in the Galant. We take in the odd magic of -
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
Four gang members and two cops, all wearing shades, trying to inconspicuously check each other out in time with a waltz.
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
Baby doesn’t want to see Bats slowly _raising his shotgun_. Out of sight of the cops, but ready to fire.
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
Then suddenly, the Cop driving, points right towards Bats.
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
Bats does a ‘who me?’ The Cop shakes his head. Then -
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
POINTS at Baby. Motions for him to take off his earphones.
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
Baby does so. *The waltz concludes.* Bat smiles.
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
BATS
|
|||
|
|
Yeah Baby. It’s the law.
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
Bats makes the ‘he’s crazy’ sign to the cops about Baby. The cops get a call. Switch their SIREN ON. Pull out of the jam and out of sight. Everyone exhales. Heart attack over... For now.
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
EXT. US POST OFFICE. WATTS - DAY #73#
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
**‘Intermission’ by Blur.**
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
*A solo piano plays an endlessly descending melody.*
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
Baby pulls up into the strip mall. The place is quiet but everything feels bad. The heat, the traffic, the summer aggression in the air, a rain drop on the windshield. In Watts?
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
There’s even a construction PICKUP TRUCK partly blocking their exit, steel enforced concrete poles hanging off the back. Even a novice would get spooked by this, but -
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
Bats ignores the omens and repeats his mantra.
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
BATS
|
|||
|
|
Remember, what’s in there is ours. It belongs to us. They got our money. They got our money orders. They got our momma’s jewels. They got our girlfriend in there. So let’s go in, get them, get her. Take back what is rightfully ours.
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
Darling opens her door. It starts. There’s a thunderclap.
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
*A crunchy electric guitar joins the piano. Adds menace.*
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
Buddy and Bats watch Darling walk into the post office alone.
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
Baby gets a pervasive feeling of dread. A baby in a stroller cries. A chorus of honks and angry drivers are heard nearby.
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
*A bass guitar joins the sneaking melody.* Buddy and Bats get out, take bags from the trunk and follow Darling. Baby is distracted by an argument between two men at a bus stop.
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
*A huge thunder clap and cymbal crash heralds the introduction of drums.* And also Buddy and Bats entering the post office.
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
*The tempo of the track quickens.* Traffic noise flares nearby. Baby stares forward. Rain spots his windshield.
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
Baby hits the wipers. They are in perfect time with the track.
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
He stays, fixed forward, staring at the jagged mess of protruding poles, fixating on this premonition of doom.
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
*Tempo quickens.* Rain thickens. Baby flicks the wipers up a notch in speed. In his wing mirror, Baby sees -
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
A SECURITY GUARD ambling around the corner. Looks up at the uncommon rainfall. Finishes off a sandwich.
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
*A squeal of feedback.* Baby looks through the post office door. He can see frantic activity inside.
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
He looks back to the security guard who has thrown the sandwich wrapper in the trash and now slowly approaches Baby.
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
*The tempo quickens. The drums become more manic.* Baby flicks the wipers to go one faster. Matching the tempo. The security guard passes, eyeballing Baby. Then -
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
A GUN SHOT. From inside. Baby and the Guard look to the door.
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
Baby doesn’t want to think what just happened in there. The Guard runs to the door of the post office. Just as -
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
Buddy, Darling and Bats run out, bags and guns in hand.
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
*Hard cymbals strike. White noise guitar. Madly fast piano.*
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
The Security Guard reaches for a walkie.
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
BATS BLOWS HIM AWAY WITH A SHOTGUN. POINT BLANK.
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
Baby witnesses this. Close up. He is in total shock.
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
BATS THEN SHOOTS THE SECURITY GUARD ON THE GROUND TOO.
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
Sound EXPLODES around them. AN ALARM. SCREAMS from passersby. The sound of distant SIRENS as -
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
Darling and Buddy leap in the back and Bats jumps in shotgun.
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
*A huge shift up in tempo, the track threatening to collapse.*
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
BATS (CONT'D)
|
|||
|
|
Move!
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
Baby *doesn't* move.
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
BATS (CONT'D)
|
|||
|
|
Fucking move!
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
Baby *doesn't* go.
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
BATS (CONT'D)
|
|||
|
|
Fucking hit the gas you fucking retard. Fucking move. Go!
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
Bats HITS Baby in the face with the shotgun stock. It knocks out a lens from his sunglasses. We now see one naked eye.
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
One _steely_ eye. Baby *doesn't* move. Baby *doesn't* go.
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
BUDDY
|
|||
|
|
Baby go! Go now!
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
BATS
|
|||
|
|
I’m blowing your fucking head off in three seconds if you don’t move!
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
DARLING
|
|||
|
|
Move!
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
Bats POINTS the barrel of his shotgun at Baby’s head.
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
BATS
|
|||
|
|
1-
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
Sirens mass. Baby holds still. That steely eye staring at Bats.
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
BATS (CONT'D)
|
|||
|
|
2-
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
*Music and noise crescendos around them.* And then -
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
BATS (CONT’D)
|
|||
|
|
3!
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
Baby HITS the gas. Drives hard and fast. *Straight into -*
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
The back of the Pickup Truck. The concrete poles.
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
WRECKING THE PASSENGER SIDE OF THE CAR AND IMPALING BATS.
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
*A blast of violent noise. Wailing distorted feedback.*
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
BATS IS DEAD. The car is FUCKED. The sirens get CLOSER.
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
Baby, Darling and Buddy are alive, but badly concussed. Concrete dust and radiator mist cloud the trashed Galant.
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
BUDDY
|
|||
|
|
Get up. Get up. Get up.
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
Buddy pulls Darling out of the car. Baby gets out too. He has one earbud hanging out of his ear, one sunglass lens missing.
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
*The song whites out. Returns to a simple solo piano.* Buddy looks at Baby. He is incandescent with rage.
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
BUDDY (CONT'D)
|
|||
|
|
What did you do? WHAT DID YOU DO!
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
BABY
|
|||
|
|
I moved.
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
Buddy FLIPS. Grabs Baby. Looks ready to shoot him there and then. Baby’s ear bud falls out. When -
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
POP! POP! POP! A COP is positioned on the street. Shooting over the hood of the first Black & White to arrive.
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
BUDDY RETURNS FIRE from behind his car door. Darling too. Baby ducks down behind the wreck of the Galant. He does not know what to do and looks again to his music for direction.
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
He puts his left earbud back in as a new track kicks off -
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
**‘Hocus Pocus’ by Focus.**
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
*A heavy guitar riff plays in left channel.* Baby puts in his right earbud. *A second guitar joins in the right channel.*
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
Police cars screech into view all around. Officers screaming with fury at them to lay down their arms.
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
*The track builds.* Baby stands. *The track kicks in.*
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
Baby. Buddy. Darling. Run for it. Race to survive.
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
*Driving guitars, bass and drums* propel Baby forward. Buddy fires back. Darling loses her heels, runs barefoot.
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
EXT. THE STREETS OF WATTS - CONTINUOUS #74#
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
The three of them disappear out of the back of the strip mall. Ducking into to a back alley. *The sound of police boots and screeching tires gaining on them.*
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
They pound along the alley. Baby is first, looking crazy with his single lens sunglasses. He vaults over a chain link fence and runs fast, leaving Darling and Buddy behind.
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
He sails across a street, cars screeching around him. Heads for a memorial park up ahead. Feet pounding.
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
*Guitars build.* Baby runs fast and is out of control. He slams into a middle aged male DOG WALKER *on a snare hit.*
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
*Drum solo.* Baby hides in a clump of trees. Stops. Catches his breath. His organs feel like they are in his mouth.
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
*Vocal section. Crazy yodelling. Hammond Organ.* Baby looks around. Sees the police chasing Buddy and Darling on foot. Black & Whites splitting every which way. Circling the park.
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
*The vocalist begins a rising scream.* Baby gears up. Knows he cannot stop. Police are coming. Chopper blades are closing in. The dog walker is waving in the direction of the trees.
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
*Drum fill into driving heavy guitar.* Baby makes a break. Heads back into the sun. Cops are suddenly on his heels. One Black & White driving onto the park itself.
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
Baby runs. Cops won’t shoot. There are too many people in the park. Kids scream. Mothers yell. Hobos are tripped over.
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
*Hectic drum fills and snares build.* Baby hotfoots it across a crosswalk, weaving through shoppers as he heads for a -
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
INT./EXT. RUNDOWN MALL - CONTINUOUS #75#
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
Baby slides down banisters into the sunken ground level of a busy-ish shopping mall that has seen better days.
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
*Another crazed drum solo signals* his fast descent down the stairs and mad dash right into a customer elevator going up.
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
*More crazy yodelling scores* his ascent to a higher level. Baby catches his breath in an elevator full of women. Baby looks out of place, panting and sweat drenched. He takes off his cyclops sunglasses to look less odd. It doesn’t work.
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
*As the vocal rises,* Baby can see the Cops sweeping the food court. *At the peak,* one cop sees Baby in the elevator. The lift doors open. Baby is out of there.
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
*A frenzied guitar solo* sees Baby tear around the top floor. He can see cops running up escalators to find him. He tries to fast walk, so as not to look conspicuous. He darts into a -
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
INT. DISCOUNT CLOTHING STORE - CONTINUOUS #76#
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
Baby takes out his ears. Grabs a baseball cap and disappears into aisles stacked with clothes. *The track plays faintly in his loose earphones and mixes with the store muzak.* Baby tries on a denim jacket. Picks up new shades. Sees -
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
Cops reflected in the convex mirror, high up on the wall.
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
Baby avoids them and walks straight back out. The tags on his stolen clothing set off the store alarms. The cops turn to see -
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
Baby has gone. He has disappeared into a nearby -
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
INT. ELECTRONICS STORE - CONTINUOUS #77#
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
Baby crouches down on the floor of a low rent Best Buy style store. He pretends to inspect a particular stereo system.
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
One ear bud is back in and the track’s *crazy oompah breakdown* mixes with the disorienting noise of many plasma screens.
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
Outside Baby sees the cops run past the store. Their path takes his easily distracted eye to a display of televisions.
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
Playing on the screens is a scene from *‘Top Hat’* where FRED ASTAIRE tap dances and mimes the massacre of the chorus with his cane a substitute for a submachine gun.
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
All danger briefly fades as Astaire dancing syncs up with Baby’s music. The TVs are placed next to mirrored pillars. *Creating a kaleidoscopic effect that mesmerizes...*
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
It’s fleeting. The cops are back. *Breakdown is over.*
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
The huge guitar riff returns and Baby runs through the store, heading not for the exit, but for the staff room. He busts through their stock room and past yelling employees to find -
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
INT. FIRE EXIT STAIRS - CONTINUOUS #78#
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
Baby busts down the stairs. TRIPS ALARMS. Up above the cops burst into the stairwell. Baby sees them. But doesn’t see -
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
The cop who enters the stairwell at a lower level. FUCK.
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
Baby hits him at full speed. Knocks them both flying. The cop slams hard into the door he just opened. Baby tumbles down the next set of stairs. He recovers with a limp. Escapes to -
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
EXT. RUNDOWN MALL PARKING LOT - CONTINUOUS #79#
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
Baby races into the full lot, shaking off his new injury.
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
He zeroes in on models of cars from the pre-immobilizer era. Spots a 91 Accord, a 95 Civic, a 2003 Corolla.
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
As the cops burst into the parking lot, Baby disappears down amongst the parked cars, out of their view.
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
While on the ground, he tries the doors of the nearest vehicles. Then, right in front on him.
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
Cops. Run past on foot. Missing him.
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
Baby stands up and on *the rising guitar chords*, smashes at the window of the nearest white Corolla with his elbow.
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
CRASH. Baby messily smashes the window. He opens the door and sits in the glass as a *hectic drum solo plays.*
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
He tries to hot wire it. But the engine won’t kick over.
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
He slumps down in his seat. Cops are running back and forth. *The rising vocal section builds. Hits a peak.*
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
The engine fires up and Baby LURCHES forward. His seat belt alarm chimes as he pulls a tight 90 degree turn. Cops spot him. Some fire. Sending other shoppers screaming.
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
Baby roars forward in the Corolla, clipping trolleys and noncompacts as he goes. His wheels SCREAM as he settles into the new car and turns perfect corners to get out of this maze.
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
*As two guitars rapidly solo,* Baby leaves the cops behind, snaking through the lot when -
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
BOOM. He ploughs hard into a car that is reversing at speed. It’s a grey Silverado with broken windows. In the front -
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
BUDDY AND DARLING. No fucking way.
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
BUDDY
|
|||
|
|
No fucking way!
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
Cops descending. Both Baby and Buddy try to get their cars started again. Buddy’s ride is fucked. It’s not happening. Buddy SCREAMS at Baby. The veins in his neck bulging.
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
BUDDY (CONT'D)
|
|||
|
|
Are you a fucking jinx, you maggot?
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
*The crazy vocals rise again.* Sirens are getting close. Buddy and Darling jump out of their car. Move toward Baby’s.
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
DARLING
|
|||
|
|
Get us out of here Baby! This is _your_ fucking mess.
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
An LAPD bullhorn barks for them to put down their -
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
BRAT BRAT BRAT. Darling lets rip in the bullhorn’s direction.
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
Buddy is about to fire too, when return fire EXPLODES from three cops using nearby parked cars as a blockade.
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
Buddy ducks, but DARLING IS HIT. And HIT. And HIT. And HIT.
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
Baby is still in the car and can see two things.
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
**1) DARLING’S BODY RIDDLED WITH BULLETS AND JERKING WILDLY.**
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
**2) BUDDY’S FACE TURNING EXPRESSIONLESS, EYES SEEING RED.**
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
The bullets stop. Darling drops DEAD. The bullhorn resumes -
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
L.A.P.D
|
|||
|
|
Put your guns dow -
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
Nope. Buddy strides around the car and walks directly TOWARDS the cops, firing all the way. He is a man possessed.
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
He wastes the police who are in the way. Fearlessly walking toward the cops, shooting with fire in his eyes.
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
Three cops are WASTED in Buddy’s vengeance. He then shoots the officer with the bullhorn who is back by a squad car.
|
|||
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|
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|
|
What few pedestrians are still in the lot are *crying and shrieking. Massed sirens.* More cops coming and fast.
|
|||
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|
|||
|
|
*The insane pounding guitars still ring* in Baby’s ears. He stays in the driving seat, waiting for Buddy’s next move.
|
|||
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|
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|
|
He watches as Buddy calmly walks toward him, fixes him with dead eyes, RAISES HIS GUN AND OPENS FIRE.
|
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|
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|
|
Baby slips down in his seat. Pops into reverse blindly. His car barrels backwards, as Buddy unloads bullets.
|
|||
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|
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|
|
*A final drum solo plays* as his Corolla slams into some parked cars and he rolls out on to the tarmac.
|
|||
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|
|||
|
|
His sunglasses and iPod scatter on the floor as he crawls in between some parked cars.
|
|||
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|
|||
|
|
Buddy approaches, barking madly in between each shot.
|
|||
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|
|||
|
|
BUDDY
|
|||
|
|
You-should-have-never-picked-up!
|
|||
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|
|||
|
|
Baby needs the iPod desperately, but cannot reach it without exposing himself to Buddy’s hail of bullets, so -
|
|||
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|
|||
|
|
Baby grabs the revolver of a downed officer. RETURNS FIRE.
|
|||
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|
|||
|
|
Buddy dodges behind Baby’s crashed car, genuinely not expecting fire from Baby. But he’s not surprised to see -
|
|||
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|
|
|||
|
|
BABY’S HAND. Reaching out. _Trying to grab the dropped iPod._
|
|||
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|
|||
|
|
Buddy unleashes lead and BLOWS THE iPOD TO SMITHEREENS.
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
End of Song. Then -
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
Baby RUNS for it, zig zagging through the parked cars. His only rhythm now: the sound of police sirens WOOP WOOPING.
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
He runs, turns corners, sprints frantically, trying to escape the parking lot and get far away from Buddy and the cops.
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
EXT. BACK ON THE STREETS OF WATTS - CONTINUOUS #80#
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
We stay with Baby as he sprints through back alleys. The sirens and firing sounds fall away and *the sound of blood in Baby’s eardrums gets louder and louder.*
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
Baby swaps his gun between hands and presses on his neck, taking his pulse. *It beats fast.* He runs fast. *Very fast.*
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
Baby closes his eyes and lets his pulse guide him as he runs.
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
The sirens fall away, the commotion behind him now. We stay with him running, his blood racing, his pulse quick.
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
Then slows on the corner of a quieter neighborhood street.
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
He sees an OLDER LADY slowly driving a Purple Pontiac Grand Am Coupe. She appears to be listening to a religious radio station.
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
Desperate, Baby runs up to her, gun underneath his jacket and in a voice like we’ve never heard from him -
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
BABY
|
|||
|
|
Get the fuck out of the car lady!
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
Baby channels the (now deceased) Bats. The Older Lady freaks.
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
She gets the fuck out and we FOLLOW HER as she runs across the street and over the low wall of a nearby lot.
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
She decides to stay low on the ground, hide. Then as her breathing calms, *she hears something curious -*
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
THE SOUND OF SWITCHING STATIONS... Her car appears to still be idling. She hasn’t heard it leave. But she does hear -
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
*A ballad. A dry news report. A country ballad. Traditional Mexican music. Another ballad. Another ballad. A slow soul track. A commercial. Another ballad...*
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
The Lady looks over the wall and sees Baby still in the Pontiac, trying to find the correct song on the radio to drive off.
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
She looks at him dumbstruck. He looks at the car stereo, fully concentrating on his search for tempo.
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
The final insult is **Laurie Anderson’s ‘Oh Superman’.** As this super slow avant garde piece plays, Baby looks up and meets eyes with the Lady for a second. Then he says -
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
BABY (CONT'D)
|
|||
|
|
I’m so sorry.
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
**‘Radar Love’ by Golden Earring** comes onto the radio. Baby turns the volume WAY UP, pops it into drive and peels out fast.
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
*GOLDEN EARRING
|
|||
|
|
“We’ve got a thing that’s called a radar love!”*
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
The Lady watches him go. What the -
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
INT. BARE APARTMENT - LATER #81#
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
The Elderly Man asleep in front of the TV news. On it: live helicopter footage of Buddy carjacking a Red Durango as he battles police in the streets.
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
The window is open and *we can hear ‘Radar Love’ playing even before we see a car pulling up.* (It’s a long song).
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
INT./EXT. APARTMENT BLOCK - CONTINUOUS #82#
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
Baby parks the Pontiac, but doesn’t want to switch off the radio. He looks up. Sees the window is open upstairs.
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
Baby leaves the engine running and the radio playing as he runs into this apartment block. He leaves the main door open so the music can echo around the stairwell.
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
The elevator is not on the ground and is slowly ascending so he runs up the stairs two at a time and bursts into the -
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
INT. BARE APARTMENT - CONTINUOUS #83#
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
Baby wakes the Elderly Man. On the TV is live coverage of Buddy making his escape from the police in the Red Durango. Baby communicates quickly in _sign language_. No subtitles.
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
BABY
|
|||
|
|
_We have to go. Bad._
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
Before Baby can explain, ‘Radar Love’ STOPS PLAYING outside.
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
Baby looks out. A red bullet riddled Durango is parked next to his car. The doors are wide open and fuck -
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
Baby grabs a vinyl record, a battered copy of ‘Motown Chartbusters Vol 3’. He puts it on to the stereo and places the needle on the track he needs: **‘Edwin Starr’s S.O.S’.**
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
He then wheels the Elderly Man into the center of the room. He rips out the floorboard and stuffs as many dollars into the Elderly Man’s gown and blanket as possible.
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
He puts the rest of the money in a duffel. Grabs his address book, but does not see A LOOSE PAGE flutter to the floor.
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
He grabs a dictaphone. Another portable recorder. Medication. A stack of D90s. He’s about to grab some iPods, when -
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
SMASH. The window by the fire escape is being KICKED IN.
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
Baby leaves all his iPods behind. He wheels the Elderly Man’s chair around, pushes him fast through the front door.
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
*EDWIN STARR
|
|||
|
|
‘I’m sending out an SOS, because I am so much distress’*
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
Hot on their tail. BUDDY. He climbs through the broken window to the empty apartment *where Edwin Starr still blares.* He sees the loose page of the address book on the floor. It reads -
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
**Doc - 3108045898**
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
**Debora - ?**
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
Buddy grabs the paper, runs to the front door and sees that the elevator is descending...
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
*EDWIN STARR (CONT'D)
|
|||
|
|
“If you see my baby, if you see my baby, stop her on sight”*
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
Buddy runs down the stairs to intercept the elevator. He hits the ground first and waits for the doors to open.
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
Inside is the Elderly Man. Looking frail, innocent. Buddy looks like he is about to grab the handicapped man when -
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
SIRENS are heard, helicopters, bullhorns, boots stomping.
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
Buddy looks up the stairwell. Sees Baby. Looking back down. Buddy glares. His face white with fury. Before he can chase -
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
POLICE BUST THROUGH THE DOOR - Buddy turns and fires. Baby doesn’t stick around to find out what happens next.
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
He runs back into the apartment. _The phone still ringing._ Grabs a single iPod before jumping out onto the fire escape.
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
EXT. APARTMENT BLOCK - CONTINUOUS #84#
|