英语剧本《高卢俱乐部》
时间:2007-10-27 21:58:35来源: 作者:
The Crow
by Davis Schow, based on a screenplay by John Shirley.
Based on the comic book created, drawn, and written by James O'Barr.
September 14, 1992.
by Davis Schow, based on a screenplay by John Shirley.
Based on the comic book created, drawn, and written by James O'Barr.
September 14, 1992.
FADE IN:
EXT. CEMETERY - LATE
AFTERNOON
BOOM! A crack of lightning illuminates the silhouette of a
perched crow large in the f.g.
TIGHT ANGLE - FRESH GRAVE
As a spade
smooths the walls of a new double-decker plot.
DIMITRI (O.S.)
We're losing the light; let's pack it in.
ANGLE - DIMITRI AND ALEXI TWO GRAVEDIGGERS.
Scoop digger parked f.g. towering gothic-style
church b.g. Rolls of astro turf. They look up toward the sky.
ALEXI
Snow, maybe?
DIMITRI
What, you gonna ski on this?
He indicates the mound
of fresh dirt. Spits into the grave.
DIMITRI (CONT'D)
Come on, let's bag this. It's
beer time.
Alexi nods and unfurls the tarp over the
dirt.
LOW ANGLE TRACKING SHOT - FLOWERS ON GRAVES
As we MOVE alongside
a pair of canvas-sided combat boots, as the
wearer collects the most
lively flowers from each grave in
sequence.
TIGHT ANGLE - THE CROW
Cemetery DEFOCUSED b.g. Large, glossy-black, the bird follows
the arc of
movement in the previous shot. Ruffles its feathers
as it begins to
sprinkle rain.
ANGLE - ELLY - RESUMING HER MOTION
A dirty-blondish
tenement KID of eleven, clad in a blend of cast-
offs and hand-me-downs;
her version of street punk chic. She
totes a skateboard under one arm
(itself a berserk Jackson
Pollock chaos of band stickers, silver marker
and graffiti, with
day-glo wheels), and transfers her impromptu bouquet
so she may
unzip a flap and hike up a ragged hood against the rain. She
stops to watch the grave diggers pack up and EXIT b.g.
ELLY
Guess the
picnic got rained out.
She looks down o.s. at --
ANGLE - SHELLY
WEBSTER'S GRAVE
as Elly places the gathered flowers down. Almost
reverent.
RESUME CROW ANGLE - ELLY B.G.
as Elly takes a single white
rose and places it atop the grave
near Shelly Webster's.
ANGLE ON GRAVE
- AS ELLY LEAVES
TILT UP from rose to the name: ERIC DRAVEN. Rain
spatters the
granite, darkening it.
EXTREME CLOSE-UP - CROW's EYE
It
blinks in its alien way.
WITH THE CROW
as it takes wing from it's
unseen perch. Lands stop Eric's
headstone. It pecks tentatively at the
top of the monument.
ANGLE - ELLY NEAR ERIC'S GRAVE
She hasn't gotten
too far before she notices the bird.
ELLY
Oh, scary.
The bird blinks
at her from the headstone.
ELLY
What are you, like, the night
watchman?
Another blink from El Birdo.
CAMERA WITH ELLY - BOOMING BACK
HIGH
as she exits the iron gates of the cemetery without looking
back.
Brutal building facades, like dead eyes, and bad
alleyways, like hungry
mouths, are gradually revealed as we
continue PULLING BACK to unveil that
the cemetery is smack in
the middle of the city.
EXT. MAXI-DOGS -
TWILIGHT - RAIN CONTINUES
CLOSE-UP of a foot-long hot dog being drowned
in mustard.
MICKEY (O.S.)
What this place needs is a good
natural
catastrophe. Earthquake,
tornado...
ANGLE - ALBRECHT AND MICKEY
ALBRECHT is a black beat cop, 35, in a rain slicker.
MICKEY is the
grease-aproned entrepreneur of MAXI DOGS, a steamy
open-front fast
foodery.
ALBRECHT
You gotta put the mustard
underneath first.
MICKEY
Maybe a flood, like in the Bible.
ALBRECHT
Here, let me do
it.
He grabs the dog from Mickey. Mickey puffs his cigar while he
cooks. Albrecht methodically spreads a napkin and performs
surgery on
the hot dog, coating the bun with mustard, rolling
the dog in the bun.
Flashes Mickey a "gimme" look.
ALBRECHT
Come on... onion. Don't
cheap
out on me. Lotta onions.
MOVING ANGLE - AS ELLY SKATEBOARDS
TOWARDS MAXI DOGS
MICKEY
Heyyy -- it's the Elly monster.
ALBRECHT
How do you ride that thing on a
wet street?
ELLY
Talent. Hi.
ALBRECHT
Care for a hot dog?
ELLY
You buying?
ALBRECHT
I'm
buying.
Elly grabs the stool next to Albrecht. They`ve done this
routine before.
ELLY
No onions though, okay?
ALBRECHT
(horror)
No onions?
ELLY
They make you fart.
Mickey laughs. Spots
Elly a Coke.
MICKEY
What's goin' on, Elly?
ELLY
I went to see a
friend of mine.
MICKEY
Well, how's your friend?
ELLY
She's still
dead.
Albrecht and Mickey exchange a look re: Elly's matter-of-
factness.
EXT. CEMETERY - NIGHT (RAIN)
Thunder KABOOMS o.s. The crow
pecks the top of the stone again
and a chip of granite flies off, bang!
EXTREME CLOSE - THE HEADSTONE
as the crow pecks again and draws blood
from the rock.
CLOSE-UP - THE CROW
A dot of blood on its ebony beak.
LOW ANGLE - HEADSTONE
A thin, watery trickle of blood wanders from the
top of the
stone towards the earth. Rain does not interfere. Lightning
plays in the rolling cloud cover, b.g.
RESUME THE CROW
as it takes off
from the gravestone, into the rain.
CLOSE-UP - THE BLOOD
It slowly
fills the name Eric Draven into the rock.
CLOSE-UP - FOOT TAPPER
A LOW
ANGLE like the SHOT introducing Elly's boot. This time
we see cowboy
boots, leather chaps. The foot taps. Waiting.
MEDIUM ANGLE - THE FOOT
TAPPER
as lightning strikes. Just enough for us to see a figure in a
long duster and a cowboy hat.
RESUME ERIC'S HEADSTONE
DRAVEN fills with
blood. Blood continues groundward.
NEW ANGLE - THE FOOT TAPPER
Turning
to meet FRAME as the crow alights on his outstretched
arm. This is the
SKULL COWBOY. We glimpse the deathshead,
beneath the brim of the cowboy
hat.
RESUME ERIC'S GRAVE
as blood trickles into the turf at the base of
the grave.
TIGHT ANGLE - THE CROW
shaking off rain. Watching intently.
CLOSE-UP - THE SKULL COWBOY'S FREE HAND
Black gloved. It walks a flat
silver throwing knife across it's
knuckles, like a quarter somersaulting.
RESUME ERIC'S GRAVE
The turf stirs beneath the white rose. Magically, a
slim white
parts the earth to grasp the rose.
SKULL COWBOY POV - ERIC's
GRAVE
as the figure of Eric Draven stands up from behind his own
headstone.
LOW ANGLE (FROM GRAVE) - ERIC
Pale. Clad in cerements:
cheap black burial suit, slit open in
back. WHite shirt. A nothing
tie. No shoes. Rain sluices mud
from his upturned face. He looks to
the sky. Lightning.
ANOTHER ANGLE - FOLLOW ERIC
as he weaves to lean
against a nearby tree. Looks o.s.
ERIC's POV - THE SKULL COWBOY
water-blurred, through the rain, standing with the crow perched
on his
arm like a hunting falcon. He releases it and it flies
to the tree.
ANGLE - ERIC
Watching this. Wipes mud from his eyes, tries to clear
vision.
The crow lights in the tree and they meet eye-to-eye. Eric
looks
back o.s. and we RACK to include the Skull Cowboy.
ERIC
What the hell
are you?
SKULL COWBOY
Interested? Follow the crow.
NB. The Skull
Cowboy speaks in nicely distorted, buzzlike
charnal house whisper.
Unsettling and hackle-raising.
Eric turns back to the bird, which takes
wing in the rain, His
eyes follow it. He looks back, disoriented,
doubtful, but the
Skull Cowboy is gone.
LOW DEEP ANGLE - THE CROW
Taking wing in the rain, showing the way.
ANOTHER ANGLE - ERIC
alone in
the cemetery. After a moments hesitation, he lurches
off, following the
crow.
DISSOLVE TO:
EXT. ARCADE GAMES SUPPLY OFFICE - NIGHT - TO
ESTABLISH:
A candy-flaked muscle T-bird is parked at the curb.
INT.
ARCADE GAMES SUPPLY OFFICE - NIGHT
A MOVING SHOT during o.s. lines.
Past dead video and pinball
devices. Pasta desk with an open briefcase,
coffee cup,
ashtray -- someone was just there. Then past a WOMAN,
trussed
with duct tape to her office chair, gagged, hot fear in her
darting eyes.
COMPLETE CAMERA MOVE to include SKANK, a blade-thin speed
freak
with pattern baldness, always loud, jittery, a manic dust puppy.
And T-BIRD, an arrogant Arayan, brush-cut iron pumper, who is
prepping an
incendiary. He exhibits a small squeeze bottle of
arson cocktail to
Skank.
T-BIRD
Uncle T-Bird's 100-proof
accelerator. I squirt you
with
this, you could jump in the
Detroit river and burn all the way
to the bottom.
INSERT A CLOSE-UP of the bomb in his hands as he works.
Silver
canisters, an LED timer, wires.
T-BIRD (CONT'D)
You know, Lake
Erie actually
caught on fire once, from all the
crap in it. Wish I
coulda seen
that.
He CLICKS a switch. PEEP. LED countdown blurs.
T-BIRD (CONT'D)
We're ready to rock.
Skank notices the captive woman's
handbag on the floor. Picks
it up. Looks through it for valuables.
SKANK
What about working girl?
INTERCUT the woman's increasingly
horrified reactions.
T-BIRD
What about her?
SKANK
I say we leave
her here to fry,
man.
T-Bird looks casually at the woman. Smiles
hideously.
T-BIRD
No. Let's take her with us.
ANGLE - THE WOMAN
Her eyes bug in a terrified NO!
EXT. STREET - MOVING - NIGHT
As the
T-Bird fishtails wildly around the corner and eats street.
INT. T-BIRD
- TRAVELLING - NIGHT
TB drives. One eye on his digital watch (doing an
equally
fast countdown). Skank wrestles their captive, the woman, in
the
back seat.
TB
(pissed off)
Skank, shut her the fuck up!
SKank
punches her and she sags. Then he looks forward.
SKANK
Whoaaa --
T-Bird, red light, red
light!
EXT. STREET CORNER NEAR MAXI-DOGS -
NIGHT
As the T-Bird slews wide, cutting sidewalk, scattering
nightwalkers, immediately attracting everybody's attention.
ANGLE -
ALBRECHT - AT MAXI-DOGS
Reacting, with a mouthful.
ALBRECHT
Goddammit.
Mickey grabs the counter phone instantly.
MICKEY
Call it
in?
Albrecht is off and running for the corner already.
ALBRECHT
Yeah, do it!
(to Elly)
Stay right there!
HOLD ON MICKEY. He
points at Albrecht's hot dog. Yecch.
MICKEY
(yelling after)
You want I should save this for
you?
EXT. MOUTH OF ALLEY ACROSS FROM
CEMETERY - NIGHT
The car slides to a nose-down panic stop.
SKANK
(O.S.)
Dump her, man, dump her!
The woman comes tumbling from the car,
which blasts off with a
war hoop from the guys inside.
ANGLE - CORNER -
ON ALBRECHT
Gun out, hauling ass on wet pavement. Aims at the departing
car. Gives it up. Still too far away. Pedestrians in the way.
ANGLE -
THE WOMAN
hurting, cut, bleeding, tottering toward the dumpster. Duct
tape
stuck to her face but cut away around her mouth. With her as
she
falls into the alley darkness... straight into the arms of
CLOSE
TWO-SHOT - ERIC AND THE WOMAN
Their eyes lock. Eric stiffens with his
first FLASH.
NB: Eric's flashes of past memory are conditioned by the
nature
of things with which he makes physical contact. Hints and
fragments in fierce, super-saturated COLOR. Puzzle pieces he
must
assemble. Each flash keynoted by a BLOWBACK NOISE and
accompanied by a
degree of pain. It hurts to remember.
FLASH: INT. T-BIRD - WOMAN'S
STRUGGLE
The faces of Skank and T-Bird are murky, ephemeral, their
voices
hideous, distorted echoes. A knife snaps open. We see the
blade. Blood. Skank hits her, pow! and --
FLASH ENDS.
ANOTHER ANGLE
- ERIC AND WOMAN
An airborne crow POV spiralling up and away from them.
MATCH WITH:
ANGLE - THE CROW
perched on a fire escape, high above,
watching and waiting.
ANGLE - RESUMING ERIC AND WOMAN
She fades. He
lets her drop away, horrified. And staggers back
into the cover of the
alley. Her blood is on his hands.
ANGLE - ALBRECHT RUNNING
Skidding
in, spotting the woman. Kneeling to her.
ALBRECHT
Here now! You're
gonna be okay!
Can you understand me? I'm a
police officer...
The
woman is no longer in pain. Deathly calm now.
WOMAN
He touched me
and it stopped. The
pain.
ALBRECHT
What did you say?
WOMAN
I
saw a ghost...
Her eyes roll back and she dies in Albrecht's arms.
ALBRECHT
Oh no... don't go, darlin', you
stay with me, now... shit!
HIGH ANGLE CROW POV - THE ALLEY
BOOMING BACK from Albrecht, the woman,
onlookers, as police
units screech up to assist.
EXT. ALLEY BEHIND
ARCADES GAMES SUPPLY HOUSE - ON ERIC - NIGHT
Eric in lurching flight,
panting. Stops and steadies against
the wall across from the backside of
Arcade Games.
ANGLE - THE CROW (FLYING)
Circling, then lighting on the
fire escape above Eric.
BACK WINDOWS OF ARCADE GAMES - ("CROWVISION")
"CROWVISION" is what the crow "gives" Eric to see. Visually
distinct
and immediately identifiable.
ERIC'S POV - BACK WINDOWS OF ARCADE GAMES
Which he's already seen through the crow's eyes.
ANGLE - ERIC
looking
up at the crow. Disoriented. Doesn't understand.
Suddenly he cottons,
and covers his eyes just in time to shield
from:
ANGLE - BACK OF ARCADE
GAMES
The rear windows EXPLODING outward in a spray of fire and
debris.
ANGLE - WITH ERIC
he reels back, crashes into a dumpster. Falls.
ANGLE
- THE CROW
landing on the dumpsters edge near a pair of discarded combat
boots in the trash. Flames.
LOW ANGLE - ERIC
The blood from his hands
mars his burial shirt. He tears the
shirt away, leaving his tie absurdly
intact. Wipes his face
with his shirt. Discards it. Stops, held by his
discovery --
PUSH IN ON ERIC
as his fingers explore the five puckered
bullet punctures in his
chest. Almost a circle. Comically, he feels his
back foe exit
wounds. Then hauls himself upright, coming level with the
crow.
His glance at the bird is almost accusatory.
ANGLE - THe CROW
Inscrutable. We should get the idea that some silent
communication is
taking place.
ANGLE - ERIC'S FEET
bare, muddied, frozen. TILT to
Eric. His gaze moves from the
crow to the boots in the trash. He grabs
them, pushes them onto
his bare feet. His eyes catch the firelight.
Distant o.s.
SIRENS
ERIC
Fire. In the rain.
DISSOLVE TO:
INT.
CLUB TRASH - NIGHT
We are now within the neon techno-depths of Club
Trash. The BG
music is hard, savage, primal: a doom-laden Radio
Werewolf band
rules. Cabaret Blitzkrieg, packed with Death-to-Yup
trendazoids. We'll see more of this circus later. Right now
the BG
SOUND is our biggest clue to the flavor of this
establishment since we
are --
TIGHT CLOSE-UP A FRAMED 8X10
Thinly filmed in dust, mounted
among dozens of other band shots.
Visible among the posed members of a
group called Diabolique is
Eric, wielding guitar on the club stage. ND
BLUR as people
CROSS FRAME.
GRANGE, 45-50, powerful, a seasoned
assassin, cruel but loyal.
His facade remains stony as he leads three
other men briskly
down the corridor.: NGO NWA, 50ish, clad Chinese
gangster style
- white topcoat, white scarf, tinted shades - and two body
guards
supplying a power perimeter around him,lean, dark-haired Asian
killers who would gladly die for Ngo Nwa, which they will in
just a
minute.
They have just passed the Diabolique 8X10. Ngo Nwa's gloved
fingers, in passing, leave little skid tracks in the dust that
clear the
eyes of Eric in the photo.
As the foursome reaches the DOOR, Grange
turns doubtfully --
suspiciously -- to Nwa.
NGO NWA
He will see
me... unannounced.
ANOTHER ANGLE - THE DOOR
As Grange keys in the enter
code the door hisses open. Without
a word, Nwa passes inside and the
door is pulled shut in
Grange's face by the Bodyguards, who post
themselves to either
side.
INT. LAO'S NIGHTCLUB OFFICE - NIGHT
The
door CLOSES and the BG NOISE is GONE. Through a large window
(mirrored
on the club side) all sorts of activity is visible
through automatic
mini-blinds. A fly-vision bank of 12 TV
monitors is hot with
surveillance.
LAO, a painfully clean-cut, Armani-clad Asian, impeccable,
almost dashing, but the dynamic here is crystal clear: Nwa is
the King:
Lao, the dark prince in this hierarchy.
At the desk, Lao is startled
from his contemplation of a tiny,
perfect rat skeleton by Ngo Nwa's
unheralded entry. The desktop
is bare except for and Arcane Vietnamese
fighting knife, half a
meter long with an ideogrammed blade, dramatically
positioned
beneath an Artemide lamp. Lao rises and feigns servility.
NB: The following exchange will play FAST, and entirely in
VIETNAMESE.
LAO
(formal greeting)
NWA
(dismissiveness, contempt, then
chastizing anger as:)
Nwa INDICATES the blade with some ridicule.
LAO
(phony assuagement)
NWA
(knows it's bullshit)
Lao turns, staring out
the blinds, fighting for control. Deep
breath. He turns back to his
"master." Nwa gestures broadly at
the oppulent office, indicating that
Lao should be grateful, but
is somehow errant
NWA
(respect is
required)
LAO
(begrudging agreement)
Lao sees the blade. An idea.
He lifts it reverently, bears it
the Nwa hilt-first in both hands, as if
bestowing a thing of
immeasurable worth.
NGO NWA
(why give me this?)
Nonetheless, Nwa accepts the blade. It gleams. Hypnotic. Even
Nwa has
to admire it. Turns it so the blade is pointed at his
sternum. His
attitude indicates Lao is too far away to do
anything untoward.
LAO
(sinister punchline)
Lao spins through the air and HEEL-KICKS the blade
THROUGH Nwa's
chest, pinning him to the door. It's over so fast the gasp
of
astonishment never escapes Nwa. Lao is much more than merely
treacherous, he is extremely capable.
LAO
(in perfect English)
When I spoke of an offering, I
didn't mean an offering to you.
INT.
CORRIDOR - NIGHT (CONTINUOUS)
Grange, standing out of arm's reach in the
corridor, kills both
Bodyguards with a double headshot as they turn in
greeting as the
door OPENS.
ANOTHER ANGLE - CORRIDOR - LAO, GRANGE, AND
CORPSES
Lao exchanges a look with his right arm; Grange nods
affirmatively.
GRANGE
You gonna smoke his bones now, or
however it
is you do it?
Lao smiles indulgently. He wipes the blood from the blade
on
the jacket of his ex-lord. Lao now bows to no one.
EXT. FIRE
ESCAPE - ANOTHER ALLEY - NIGHT
Eric, wearing the combat boots, climbs as
the crow leads him.
Up. He jams his hand on a rusty wedge of metal.
Ouch.
CLOSE-UP - ERIC'S PALM
Blood flows from the gash. He vises his
fist shut.
ANGLE - ERIC ON FIRE ESCAPE
Eye-to-eye with the crow. Opens
his hand.
CLOSE-UP - ERIC'S PALM
The blood flows back into the wound,
which closes itself,
leaving another scar.
ANGLE - ERIC
Vising the
rail. Speaks to the night. Almost a mantra.
ERIC
"My kitten walks
on velvet feet,
and makes no sound at all. And in
the doorway nightly
sits to watch
the darkness fall. I think
he loves the lady night..."
(to crow)
Am I alive? Am I dead? Something
else? Something in
between?
CLOSE-UP - THE CROW
Inscrutable. No answer here.
RESUME ERIC
Almost bemused. Steadier. A hint of friendliness.
ERIC
Thanks for
sharing that.
ETC. GIDEON`S PAWN SHOP - NIGHT
As the T-Bird grumbles
tp park curbside. Menacing.
INT. GIDEON'S PAWN SHOP - NIGHT
A
junkyard of loot and dusty discards. Junkie thievings and
other people's
stereos. Behind a wire-meshed security counter
GIDEON reads a racing
form, chain-smoking throughout the scene. He
is pear-shaped, stubbled,
unkempt. Food on his shirt. JINGLE
of doorbells. Gideon lowers his
paper to reveal Skank and
T-Bird on approach.
GIDEON
Ahhh, jesus,
the creatures of the
night, here they come. Tweedledum
and
Tweedledummer.
Skank riles
SKANK
Hey, blow me, fat boy!
Just as
quick, Gideon cocks and levels a Magnum at Skank.
GIDEON
Blow
yourself, bigmouth.
T-BIRD
(interposing)
Whoa, hey, whoa.
(hands up)
Business.
He lifts a small carton onto the counter.
GIDEON
Whatcha got?
NEW ANGLE - COUNTER
Transaction time. T-Bird
passes items through the screen slot
and Gideon gives each one cursory,
doubtful inspection.
T-BIRD
Coupla more rings... 24k.
GIDEON
18k.
Crap.
T-BIRD
...necklace... pearls...
GIDEON
Nineteen bucks at
Sears. Fake,
T-BIRD
Leather purse...
He hands though the bag rested
from the woman.
GIDEON
What's this -- a little, ah,
bloodstain,
right?
(doesn't matter)
Fifty bucks for the box, and I'm
doin'
you a --
T-BIRD
Yeah, I know, fatso. Do us all a
favor. Make Top
Dollar smile.
SKANK
You wouldn't want Top Dollar not
to smile.
Mention of Top Dollar clams Gideon efficiently up. He hands
over the
cash to T-Bird with a grimace.
EXT. ROOFTOP - ON ERIC - NIGHT
Eric
stares upward at the crow as it drops like a bomber from
the night sky,
flying past him, skimming the roof, leading him
on. Eric exhales,
shrugs, feeling mocked by the bird.
ERIC
All right.
And he takes off
on a run. Only to stumble and fall. But the
falls turns into a TUMBLING
ROLL that lands Eric back on his feet
still moving. He looks back as if
to ask: "Did I do that?" and
runs out of the frame.
ANOTHER ANGLE -
PICKING UP ERIC ON THE RUN.
as he squints towards the crow and does his
best to keep up.
TRACK WITH HIM to the edge of the roof, heavily misted
in rain.
He jumps a negligible gap to the next lower roof. The next
roof-top is a one-story jump down. Eric clears the jump with a
WOOF of
air. Keeping his eyes on the flying crow; gaining
strength. His next
leap is more like a broad-jump. Athletic.
FAST MOVING ANGLE - THE CROW
keeping airborne, keeping ahead.
MOVING ANGLE - ERIC
Eyes confidently
on the sky as he arches out into space...
UP ANGLE FROM STREET -
BUILDINGS
As Eric is seen to jump across the gap at least three stories
up
where there is no connecting building.
CLOSE ANGLE - TARGET BUILDING
LEDGE
as Eric smashes into it, just missing, hinging at the waist,
grabbing for purchase, suddenly panicked, gravity pulling him
downward.
ANGLE - AT ERIC FROM PHONE CABLE BRACKET
Eric falls but manages to grab
the bracket one-handed. He hangs
for another deadly moment, then slowly,
to his own astonishment,
executes a one-handed pull-up that will save his
ass.
ERIC
Gotcha.
He completes the pull-up, bringing his chin level
with the
ledge. As he reaches for it with his other hand the bracket
rips from the wall and Eric plummets, with a howl of defeat.
UP ANGLE
FROM STREET - ERIC'S DOWNFALL
It's a looooooong way down.
ANGLE -
ALLEYWAY
as Eric lands and splits a trash can in two. A beat as we
wonder
if any bones are left unpulped. PUSH IN as Eric rolls from
facedown to his back.
TIGHT SHOT - ERIC'S FACE
as he completes the
roll, gasping, amazed he's still in one
piece.
ANGLE - TRASHCAN - ON
THE CROW
It flies easily down to inspect Eric as he slowly sits up,
examining his hands. Frustrated and pissed off.
ERIC
Thanks.
CLOSE-UP - THE CROW
Not "your welcome", but other-worldly patience. It
waits.
RESUME ERIC
ERIC (CONT'D)
Where're we going next -- the
sewer?
EXT. ROOFTOP - NIGHT
Still, dark silence until Eric lands from
ABOVE FRAME, feline.
The crow lands simultaneously b.g., perched near a
roof access
door with a shaded, dim-yellow bulb.
CLOSE-UP - THE CROW
It
just blinks at him.
INT. ABANDONED STAIRWELL - NIGHT
as Eric yanks
open the rusty rooftop door from the outside and
sweeps down the steps in
a swirl of night mist
ANGLE - FOOT OF STAIRS
Trash and detritus all
around, clogging the arteries of the
building, which is old, unoccupied,
forsaken. The crow lights
on a scarred banister knob. Eric's footsteps
come down into frame.
ANGLE ON LOFT DOOR - INCLUDE ERIC
A year ago this
door was sealed with police barricade tape...
which now sags, faded.
A
sticker across the jam notifies potential trespassers that
this is -- was
-- a crime scene. Eric slows, stops, his hand
on the banister.
ANGLE -
THE CROW
as is wafts ahead of Eric, arriving at the door first.
ANGLE
ON ERIC, THE DOOR, THE CROW
Eric has had enough.
ERIC
Are we
finished yet?
CLOSE-UP - ERIC'S HAND ON BANISTER
sliding along, as he
speaks, until it hits a cigarette burn.
PUSH IN ON ERIC - TIGHT
stiffening as he suffers his second --
FLASH: IMAGES and DIALOG are not
linked. A rapidfire MONTAGE set
in the loft, a year earlier (it is
decorated for Halloween).
The broken door. The stairwell is filled with
cops and cop
noise; lab guys bustle. Albrecht is there, making notes as
a
DETECTIVE steps over to him.
ALBRECHT
Victim's name is Shelly
Webster.
The guy who got tossed is, uh ...--
(checks his notebook)
Albrecht grinds out his smoke on the banister.
FLASH ENDS.
RESUME
ERIC ON THE STAIRS.
He sits down hard, hurting from the flash. His eyes
seek the
crow. He completes Albrecht's line:
ERIC
"Draven, Eric."
EXT. THE PIT - NIGHT
LOW DOLLY of Elly's little combat boots moving
toward the
entryway of the pit. MUSIC gradually UP LOUDER O.s. as she
nears.
ANGLE - ELLY IN DOORWAY
Luridly-lit. A grown-up's place. A
burly BOUNCER appraises
her, his tone jokey. He knows Elly.
BOUNCER
Hey! You got any ID?
ELLY
Very funny. Ha. Ha. Oh my,
sides.
The
Bouncer jerks a thumb. Go on in.
INT. THE PIT - NIGHT
A grungy
sawdust-floored shot-and-beer joint packed tight
with urban BURNOUTS
rushing to drink their lives away. Hammering
MUSIC and rude whorehouse
lighting. Each predator straining to
be badder than the next.
TRACK
THROUGH this maze at Elly's eye level until we reach
DARLA, waitressing
her heart out, the drug mileage on her
obvious.
ELLY
Mom --?
DARLA
I told you you're not supposed
to come in here.
ELLY
(a
quick lie)
I lost my key.
Disgustedly -- goddamn kids -- Darla fishes
up a key and slaps
it into Elly's hand.
FUNBOY (O.S.)
Hey, Darla --
before we die of old
age, how about it --?
DARLA
(to Elly)
Out. Now. I gotta work.
RACK PAST Darla and MOVE IN CLOSE on a corner
table -- where sit
Funboy, Skank, T-Bird and a black, vested muscle
gypsy, TIN-TIN.
INT. LOFT - NIGHT
As Eric shoves the door open from
the outside. The lock, popped
from the frame, spins on the wooden floor.
The barrier tape
whisps and dust roils. Dark, chilly, damp. A rat's
nest of
disuse.
PULL BACK THROUGH THE BROKEN PICTURE WINDOW
as Eric
enters. Glass blown out. Shards poking. Jagged.
NEW ANGLE - AS ERIC
WALKS IN
He scans the loft. Sees reflecting golden eyes near the floor.
ERIC'S POV - FLOOR NEAR WINDOW
A white, long-haired cat walks into a
pool of night light.
ANGLE - ERIC AND THE CAT
He kneels. Extends his
hand. The cat nears; likes Eric.
CLOSE-UP - ERIC'S HAND.
as the cat
makes contact. Sudden white jolt - a FLASH.
FLASH: we HEAR Eric
strumming his Strat o.s. We see what he
saw: Shelly, holding the cat.
FLASH ENDS.
UP ANGLE - ERIC
Wincing. Recovering from the flash. He
purposefully gathers
the cat into his arms and braces for more, harder,
stronger...
FLASH: A MAN and a WOMAN make love on a big bed amidst a
hundred
points of candlelight. Shelly and Eric, once upon a time.
FLASH ENDS.
REVERSE ANGLE FROM BEDROOM DOOR - ON ERIC
as the cat,
dropped, hits the floor and scrambles out of the way.
CLOSE-UP - ERIC
vising his head, teary-eyed, his nose bleeding.
ERIC
No! Don't look!
No! No!
He whirls unexpectedly and punches his fist completely through
the masonry wall.
FLASH: Eric and Shelly in a mock waltz. He spins her
and they
collapse on the bed.
FLASH ENDS.
ANGLE - ERIC
slowly
pulling his arm out of the wall.
ERIC
(whispering)
Stop it.
His eyes roll up and he slumps the length of the door frame like
a
drowning man.
ANGLE - GABRIEL
watching Eric. He hits with an o.s.
THUD.
INT. THE PIT - ON FUNBOY'S TABLE - NIGHT
As a gloved hand sets
up four bullets next to four shots.
FUNBOY (O.S.)
Let's have some
fun.
Funboy pops the bullet, like a contact capsule and washes it down.
T-Bird turns to Tin-Tin, the new guy.
T-BIRD
You first.
TIN-TIN
You're outta your fuckin' mind.
Into it, almost jazzed, Tin-Tin downs
his bullet and shot, and
T-Bird does likewise. Points to Skank.
T-BIRD
No. I'm not the lunatic. He is.
Skank riles, pulls a huge Auto
Mag and sticks it in T-Bird's
face, cocking.
SKANK
Fuck you, T-Bird.
Just as lightning fast, T-Bird has his own gun out and jammed
right under
Skank's jawbone. He makes a kissy face.
T-BIRD
I love you too, you
madman.
They all crack up laughing like ax murderers. Skank drinks,
Tin-Tin spot checks the satchell from Top Dollar's. Darla
delivers more
shots and funboy feels her ass.
FUNBOY
Hey, pussycat.
INT. LOFT -
DOWN ANGLE (CROW POV) - ERIC ON FLOOR
He's awake. Pushes himself up.
REVERSE ANGLE - THE CROW
Is perched in a dead light fixture, monitoring
Eric.
ANGLE - ERIC ON FLOOR
He's awake. Pushes himself up. Realizes
he is in the center of a
faint chalk outline on the hardwood floor. He
reaches to touch
the dark stain of old blood.
FLASH: Shelly spills into
frame, mouth bloodied. T-Bird
instantly on top of her, rough.
FLASH
ENDS.
ANGLE - WITH ERIC
as he abandons the outline and staggers to the
window... where
he cuts open his hand on jags of glass.
FLASH: Eric
held firm in the grasp of T-Bird and Funboy, one
arm each. Five bloody
bullet holes in Eric's chest.
The thugs 1-2-3 and hurl Eric backwards
through the window,
which shatters.
FLASH ENDS.
ANGLE - ERIC AT THE
WINDOW
Reeling backward, same trajectory as in the Flash, but toward
the
floor, in SLO-MO. Overloaded. Blacking out.
AS ERIC FALLS - INTERCUT
MONTAGE
A jumble of good/bad images from the loft: Tin-Tin embedding a
page of paper in the loft wall with a throwing knife...
Shelly's face as
she lights a candle... a POPPING champagne
cork... the echoing CANNONADE
of the shots that killed Eric...
Skank backhanding Shelly... Shelly
blowing bubbles from a
clawfoot tub full of suds... Eric catching
Funboy's first slug
high in the chest... NEW ANGLE of the glass in the
window
blowing out as T-Bird and Funboy through Eric through...
ANGLE -
ERIC'S REAL TIME FALL
He plummets to BLACK OUT FRAME. THUMP. Out cold.
INT. PIT - RESUMING FUNBOY'S TABLE - NIGHT
Funboy contemplates his drink
as the previous scene reverbs.
FUNBOY
More fun than a torture
chamber.
Tin-Tin's pocket pager goes BEEP and startles them all. Skank
nearly shoots it, jumpy. Tin-Tin pulls back on a black leather
trenchcoat after clicking off the pager.
TIN-TIN
I hate this goddamn
thing...
ANGLE - DARLA watching them from a distance as Tin exits.
INT. LOFT - FLOOR LEVEL - NIGHT
An enormous cockroach trundles past,
large in FRAME. RACK to
show Eric lying on floor b.g. as his eyes pop
open. A flurry of
dark motion as the crow flies past frame.
ANGLE --
THE CROW -- Having snatched the bug in it's beak. Eats
it.
ANGLE - ERIC
rising from the floor. Careful. Stealthy. Watches his fireplace.
ERIC
We have company.
ANGLE ON FIREPLACE
Huge. Marble. COld. Eric's
paper mache masks of Comedy and
Tragedy still hang there. The Skull
Cowboy steps out of the
dark and into the vague blue light. Shadowy as
ever.
SKULL COWBOY
Having fun yet? No?
(beat)
I'll give you a
hint. Remember
whatshername?
ERIC
Shelly?
SKULL COWBOY
Miss
her?
ERIC
Yes.
SKULL COWBOY
Kill the men who killed you both,
and the Day of the Dead will be
your reunion.
The Skull Cowboy
prestidigitates a flat throwing knife(like Tin-
Tin's). Eric's gaze
follow it closely.
SKULL COWBOY (CONT'D)
You must use your eyes.
He
points to the crow.
ANGLE - THE COMING KNIFE - ("CROWVISION")
Weirdly
distorted, a shared vision between Eric and the crow.
TIGHT ON ERIC
As
he DUCKS out of the path of the knife he sees through the
bird's eyes.
He rolls.
ON THE CROW
It hops out of the way as the knife embeds in the
wall. Eric's
ROLL finishes him up nearby.
ERIC
Goddammit.
He grabs
for the knife as if to use it on the Skull Cowboy, but
the knife causes
an unexpected painful FLASH.
FLASH: Eric bouncing off the bedroom
doorframe, Tin-Tin's knife
stuck in his shoulder.
FLASH ENDS.
RESUME
ERIC
vising his head with his hands, in pain. Too much pain.
SKULL
COWBOY
Get it?
ERIC
Leave me alone -- !
He looks up, the Skull
Cowboy is still there.
SKULL COWBOY
(contempt)
Do something
about it.
ANOTHER ANGLE - ERIC AND THE SKULL COWBOY.
A horrible beat
between them. The Eric runs full tilt across
the room, bounding to the
open window and then leaping.
ANGLE - SKULL COWBOY
as close to surprise
as he gets. Steps out to watch as --
ANGLE ON WINDOW - ERIC
FLIES feet
first out into space.
CLOSE-UP - BRICKWORK ABOVE WINDOWFRAME
Eric's
fingers smash into grip the tiny mortared gaps!
EXT. LOFT BUILDING - UP
ANGLE FROM STREET - NIGHT
High above, Eric's feet shoot out the window,
knocking loose
stray shards that fall toward frame. He swings into an
upside-
down pose, impossibly holding himself rigid against the
building's side, face down. by his quarter-inch finger grip.
CLOSE-UP -
ERIC
Every muscle rigid, quivering with tension. Hold. Then he
relaxes, and swings back inside.
INT. LOFT - AT WINDOW, PICKING UP ERIC
- NIGHT
He arches, flips, to land on his feet. The Skull Cowboy is
gone. No knife either. The crow watches. O.S. "meow".
ANGLE - WITH
ERIC AS HE TURNS TO SEE THE CAT
ERIC
I guess I'm not ready to
leave...
just yet.
He picks up the cat -- wary of flashes, which don't
come this
time -- and returns to the window. Feeling safer.
ERIC
(CONT'D)
The last time we saw each other,
I didn't do so well.
(holds cat up)
Huh, Gabriel?
He moves to the fireplace. With his free
hand, lifts the
Tragedy mask off its hook. Puzzles it, fact-to-mask.
ERIC (CONT'D)
I bet you need some cat food...
right?
EXT. STREET -
NIGHT -ESTABLISHING:
Eric walking, the Tragedy mask hanging from his
hip. An
occasional PEDESTRIAN passes without comment, brutalized
by the
city. Eric, more confident, smells the night's bouquet.
EXT. ALLEY -
NIGHT ("CROWVISION")
Two men around a trashcan fire. We should
recognize Tin-Tin by
his black leather trench coat. A wonderfully rude
Rap tune, "Got
a White WOman Tied Up In My Closet, Gonna Jab Her With A
Stick,"
RAZZLES b.g.
EXT. STREET - RESUMING ERIC - NIGHT
As Eric
reacts to what the crow has just seen. Slows. Stops.
And directs his
attention toward the mouth of the alley.
EXT. ALLEY - TIGHT ON TIN-TIN
- NIGHT
He pulls the nickel plated revolver from the satchel. FOLLOW as
he hands it across to RATSO, who removes the suitcase-sized boom
box
(the source of the music) from his shoulder to accept.
Ratso is a feral
skull-head; street trash.
TIN-TIN
Three hundred and your a
gunslinger.
HIGH ANGLE - TIN-TIN and RATSO
As the crow is still
watching, yet perched. A brief
shove-and-standoff. The gun deal has
gone bad.
RATSO
Please, TIn-Tin, you know I'm good
for the money,
man, I promise,
Leslie put me up to it, please,
man, don't --
(choking scream)
Tin-Tin has just up-rammed a throwing knife into Ratso.
TIN-TIN
Ratty -- shut the fuck up.
Tin-Tin lifts Ratso on the knife,
gutting him. Ratso goes
slack, deader'n hell. Tin-Tin reaches around to
click OFF
the boom box... then let's Ratso`s corpse fall.
ERIC (O.S.)
Another satisfied customer?
TIGHT ANGLE - TIN-TIN
galvanized by the
surprise voice. He automatically draw a
fresh knife from the bandolero
of knives across his chest inside
the coat. Can't yet track the source
of the voice.
TIN-TIN
Who the hell is that?
(beat, venomous)
Come on out man, I won't hurt
you.
ANGLE - ERIC IN ALLEY
He steps out
from behind another flaming trashcan. Wearing a
long black scarf and
the Tragedy mask.
ERIC
Hello, Tin-Tin.
ANGLE ON TIN-TIN - AS HE
RISES (FROM RATSO)
trying to process what he sees. And cover. And buy
time.
TIN-TIN
Little early from trick-or-treat,
homie.
(re:
Ratso)
This dick trying to bushwack me.
ERIC
Murderer.
Tin-Tin
blows out a breath. No bluff. Time to kill again.
TIN-TIN
Guess you
got that goddamn right.
He shrugs. The shrug becomes the launch of a
knife.
TIGHT SHOT - MOVING - ERIC
His black-gloved hand slaps away the
incoming knife and inch from
his nose. It CLATTERS. Eric continues
striding toward Tin-TIn.
ERIC
Try harder. Try again.
SHIFTING
ANGLE - ERIC NEARS TIN-TIN
as Tin-TIn throws another knife. Eric
closing in. He claps
hand together, immobilizing the next knife. Opens
his hands,
almost an "oops" gesture. Keeps on coming.
ANGLE - ERIC AND
TIN-TIN
As they meet. Tin-Tin attempts a roundhouse. Eric blocks it
and smashes Tin-Tin into the alley wall.
ERIC
A year ago. Halloween.
A man
and a woman. In a loft. You
helped to murder them.
TIN-TIN
Last Halloween, eh? Yeah...
(beat)
Yeah, I remember. I fucked
her
too, I think.
ERIC
You cut her. You raped her.
(rage)
You watched!
TIN-TIN
Hey, I got my rocks off, so
fuck you in the
ass, man.
They're face-to-face now, sweaty and tense. Eric peels off
the Tragedy mask.
ERIC
I want you to tell me a story, Tin-Tin.
TIN-TIN
I don't know you...
But, as Eric bears down on Tin-TIn, Tin
begins to recognize him.
Fear. Sweat.
For the first time, Tin-Tin
starts to loose control.
TIN-TIN (CONT'D)
Holy shit... you're dead,
man...
EXTREME CLOSE-UP - ERIC
ERIC
Victims. Aren't we all.
INT.
LOFT - NIGHT
TIGHT ANGLE - TABLETOP
as Eric's hands place Ratso's boom
box on the table and click on
suitable weird b.g. MUSIC.
ANGLE - FLOOR
LEVEL
Eric's boots pass frame. An open can of cat food CLANKS down
big
in f.g. as Eric walks b.g. obviously wearing Tin-Tin's
trenchcoat.
Gabriel noses into to frame to eat from the can.
INT. LOFT, BEDROOM -
NIGHT (LATER)
Shelly's vanity. Dusty, disused. The mirror spiderwebbed
with
cracks but still hanging precariously in its frame. Eric is
seated, his image crazily split into many. He pulls on a long-
sleeved,
tight-knit, black shirt.
WIDEN ANGLE to reveal the loft now lit with
dozens of candle
stubs. Placed all around. Ceremonial and weird.
CLOSE-UP - ERIC
ERIC
Halloween is coming. The Day of the Dead...
In
the mirror, multi Eric's. He touches the glass, tightening up
as he
realizes he's in for another --
FLASH: Shelly, sleeping on her divan, a
year ago, wakes as Eric
(O.S.) says "Boo". She cracks an eye open.
SHELLY
Your scary quotient needs work.
FLASH ENDS.
ANOTHER ANGLE -
ERIC AT VANITY
Considering old cosmetics. Everything he touches will
hurt him.
But he's ready to eat this pain. He grabs a lipstick.
FLASH:
Shelly at the vanity in happier times
SHELLY
I think red's my color,
don't you?
FLASH ENDS.
RESUME ERIC
wincing. He drops the lipstick
on the floor. Grabs a
hairbrush.
FLASH: Eric smashes into the street
after his death-fall,
trailing broken glass.
FLASH ENDS.
NEW ANGLE -
ERIC AT VANITY
Later. He's wearing white pancake makeup on his cheeks.
Shaky.
FLASH: Eric sucks up Funboy's gunshots in the chest. 1-2-3-4.
FLASH ENDS.
RESUMING ERIC AT VANITY
his face a crazy warpaint maze of
white streaks, not blended
yet. He looks at his own reflection. In one
cracked,
triangular facet of the mirror is not a multiple of his face,
but the Skull Cowboy. Just one.
SKULL COWBOY
Glad to see you're
finally with
the program.
ERIC
Bugger off to the graveyard, skull-
face, I'm busy.
SKULL COWBOY
You work for the dead. Forget
that,
and you can forget it all.
The Cowboy tips his hat and isn't there.
Eric sees the crow
perched on the edge of the mirror now.
ERIC
Forget
this.
He smears the streaks until his face is uniformly grave-wave
white.
ANGLE - GABRIEL THE CAT
coming in to sniff around the clutter at
the foot of the vanity.
Eric looks down towards him... and toward the
lipstick he dropped.
CLOSE-UP - ERIC'S HAND
as it glides down to pick
up the lipstick. CONTACT, and --
FLASH: Eric, smashed on the street,
T-Bird's car b.g., upside down
in Eric's POV as he rolls over and blood
courses from both
corners of his mouth, a definite foreshadow of the
"Crow" face.
FLASH ENDS.
RESUMING ERIC AT VANITY - TIGHT
ERIC
She
always red red was her color.
EXTREME CLOSE - THE MIRROR
We see only a
reflected corner of Eric's mouth as he duplicates
the blood trail in red
lipstick, making one one half of a crow
harlequin smile.
EXT. LOFT
BUILDING - LATER - NIGHT
A MEDIUM SHOT as lightning strikes; a storm
brews.
EXT. LOFT - LATER - NIGHT
CLOSE-UP - ERIC'S BOOTS
crossing
the floor. Tin-Tin's knife slotted to the bucklework.
CLOSE-UP - VANITY
Eric's hands discard a hairbrush there. He moves off.
CLOSE-UP -
GABRIEL
looking up o.s., watching his master stalk around with purpose.
Thunder rumbles long o.s.
ANGLE - AT ERIC IN WINDOW FROM OUTSIDE
The
storm boils. Eric framed in broken window.
CLOSER ANGLE - ERIC IN
WINDOW
Eric all in black, Firm-wrapped. Tight-wired. The trenchcoat
flutters, cloak-like. His shadowy face framed by the upturned
collar,
his hair punkish and spiky.
SIDE ANGLE - ERIC
as he moves forward in
the light. The crow lights on his shoulder.
ERIC
All right, bad
guys...
FRONT VIEW - ERIC
Full crow regalia. Face makeup streamlined.
Eric's eyes flash.
ERIC
(in drawn out yell)
Here I commme -- !
PULL BACK swiftly, vertiginously, as Eric swan dives from the
window, his
voice a howl.
UP ANGLE FROM STREET - ERIC'S FALL
Coat, wing-like.
MATCH his dive yell with o.s. crow SCREECH.
SLOW MOTION as Eric fills the
frame and we --
DISSOLVE TO:
EXT. ALLEY - WHERE TIN-TIN GOT IT -
NIGHT
Cop lights bounce, competing with the trash fires. Albrecht and
several other UNIFORMS assess the double-death scene. A
detective,
TORRES tries to appear in charge.
TORRES
Couldn't have happened to a
nicer
couple.
ANGLE - ALBRECHT AND TORRES OVER DEAD TIN-TIN
Tin-Tin
frozen in deathshock, all of his knives sticking out of
him. Dead
Ratso, b.g., where he fell.
ALBRECHT
Sure it coulda. Funboy's not
here, neither is T-Bird -- none
of Top Dollar's number ones.
TORRES
You know, you sure got a hard-on for
a guy that's guilty of zip on
paper. Top Dollar runs Showtime;
what's the matter, don't you like
adult entertainment?
ALBRECHT
This sack of shit is called Tin-
Tin.
TORRES
Don't any of your little pals have
real, grown up names?
ALBRECHT
He was a runner for Top Dollar.
Just muscle.
TORRES
Was.
ALBRECHT
(sigh)
This isn't Top Dollar's style
anyway. This was
somebody else.
Somebody new.
Albrecht lights a fresh smoke. Torres
waves the smoke away.
TORRES
And you're gonna tell me who.
ALBRECHT
Who ever made that.
Albrecht points. CAMERA FOLLOWS to wall
behind Tin-Tin. A crow
silhouette has been daubed in blood there, now
dry.
TORRES
What in the hell... do you
call that?
ALBRECHT
I
call it blood, Detective. If
you want, you can call it graffiti.
INT.
GIDEON'S PAWN SHOP - NIGHT
CLOSE-UP of Gideon's thick fingers shuffling
grimy currency.
Some scratchy 1920's TUNE plays throughout b.g., like a
broadcast
from another time and place.
TIGHTER ANGLE - GIDEON
looking
up at a metallic SOUND, o.s. Irritated.
GIDEON
Piss off, we're
closed.
As the outside security gate rattles, Gideon draws his magnum
and approaches the front door.
GIDEON
Fucking creatures of the night;
they never goddamn learn.
Sudden surprise as he sees the silhouette of
the gate SCREE back
against the frosted glass of the front door.
GIDEON (CONT'D)
HEY!!
And he hustles to close up the distance between
himself and the
door, gun up. Before he can touch the door, the crowbar
comes
rocketing through the glass, pegging Gideon in the forehead and
knocking him flat on his ass. He loses the pistol.
Eric walks through
the door, causing the fractured glass to
disintegrate around him. He
disclaims, thespian.
ERIC
"Suddenly I heard a tapping, as of
someone
gently rapping, rapping at
my chamber door."
(pause)
You heard me
rapping, right?
LOW ANGLE - GIDEON ON THE FLOOR
reacting to Eric's
weird appearance and looking for his gun.
GIDEON
Oh, bullshit!
You're trespassing
asshole, you're breakin'
and enterin' and you just
bought me a
fucking door!
During Gideon's rant, Eric brushes glass
cubes from his
shoulders, nonplussed. Now he flings Gideon across the
room.
Gideon crashes into the counter cage. As Eric advances on him:
ERIC
I'm looking for something in an
engagement ring. Gold.
As Eric
comes up behind him, Gideon reaches through the open
cage door and pulls
a big combat knife from beneath the counter.
GIDEON
You're looking
for a coroner,shit-
for-brains!
And he tries to nail Eric with the
knife.
NEW ANGLE - BEHIND GIDEON - AS GIDEON SWINGS
No Eric behind him.
TILT to reveal Eric hanging off the cage
above Gideon. Eric slams the
cage door against Gideon's head.
Drops down like a spider and collects
the knife.
ERIC
I repeat: a gold engagement ring.
It was pawned
here, a year ago, by
another gentleman whose name, I
believe was...
"T-Bird"?
IN TIGHT ON ERIC AND GIDEON
Eric twists Gideon's sail-like
shirt and Gideon turns bright red.
ERIC (CONT'D)
Cute nickname, don't
you think?
GIDEON
(gasping)
I ain't got no fuckin' ring.
ERIC
Wrong answer.
Eric nails Gideon's hand to the counter top. Gideon
howls!
GIDEON
All's I got is in a box! Behind
the counter!
Eric
jumps through the cage door. Gideon's eyes bug as he sees
his own
pierced hand, immobilized.
ANGLE - ON ERIC BEHIND THE COUNTER
scans the
shelves. Rows of boxed ammo. Kerosene tins. A shotgun.
Knives and
assorted knuckle duster curios. And the ring box.
CLOSE-UP - THE RING
BOX IN ERIC'S HAND.
Dozens of gold rings. Eric's fingers sift through
them.
TIGHTER ON ERIC
He brings each ring to his face. INTERCUT with
Gideon's feeble
struggles and invective, o.s.
ERIC
No... no... no...
no...
He tosses each rejected ring over his shoulder. Until:
CLOSE-UP
- THE RING IN ERIC'S HAND
Obliterated by a stab of brilliant white light
--
FLASH: Shelly's face. A perfect vision...
FLASH ENDS.
RESUMING
ERIC
He closes his fist tightly around the ring. A moment of
decision.
Then he draws the shotgun from beneath the counter.
Uses the butt to
knock the knife free of Gideon's hand. It goes
spinning across the
countertop. Eric shucks the shotgun and
rams it into Gideon's nose as
the big man slumps to the floor.
ERIC
Tin-Tin confided in me, before
he
ran out of breath. You have one
chance to live.
GIDEON
No
fucking way. He'll kill me.
ERIC
Who would waste time killing you...
besides me?
Gideon sweats, pants, contemplates the hole in his hand.
GIDEON
(cowed)
Top Dollar.
ERIC
Another jolly nickname?
GIDEON
You want those assholes, you want
Top Dollar.
ERIC
T-Bird?
GIDEON
Like the car. He hangs out with
Skank. that little ass-hair,
and
they hang at the Pit -- hell,
Funboy lives there. Ask Top
Dollar.
ERIC
A whole club of pirates, with
pirate names...
Eric seems to go
berserk, SMASHING and PUNCTURING cans of
flammables and powder while
Gideon flinches, nursing his holed
hand. Blows just miss Gideon's head.
Soon he's cowering.
LOW ANGLE - ERIC
Looking down at Gideon in
revulsion.
ERIC
You feed off the living.
SMASH! as another tin
ceases to exist next to Gideon. Then
Eric is gone, past him without
further word, ignoring him
entirely. As he exits, shotgun shouldered, he
pauses to admire
a white Fender Strat hanging among the pawnables. He
reaches
for it.
ON GIDEON
As he summons some last minute budget
bravery.
GIDEON
You walk outta here Top Dollar
will erase your ass!
Top Dollar
owns the fucking street here and
you can't dick with me, you
son of
a bitch!
RESUME ERIC - FRAMED IN DOORWAY
The guitar now
bowslung across his back, the shotgun levelled at
Gideon's position.
ERIC
One chance to live. Take it.
MOVE IN TIGHT ON GIDEON
as he
realizes what Eric means. Hauls ass and bangs through the
rear door with
a bleat of terror.
ANGLE - RESUMING ERIC IN DOOR
as he cuts loose
with the shotgun.
EXT. GIDEON'S PAWN SHOP - NIGHT
as seen from across
the street. Eric silhouetted, unmoving as
the whole store front blows
hellaciously out around him, raining
glass and debris. Stirring his
hair. Eric is the black eye of
the fireball.
LOW ANGLE - FRONT OF PAWN
SHOP - EMPHASIZE ERIC
lit by flames and residual explosions. He hurls
the shotgun
into the inferno. Casually brushes flaming/smoking detritus
from his own clothes.
ALBRECHT (O.S.)
Don't move! I said don't move.
NEW ANGLE - ERIC
as he turns slowly, to see Albrecht, out of reach, gun
drawn.
Eric's attitude lightens; Albrecht is not the threat here.
ERIC
I thought the police always said
"freeze:.
Albrecht divides his
attention, jumpy, between the odd sight of
Eric (guitar on his back), and
the raging instant inferno of
Gideon's.
ALBRECHT
I'm the police and
I say don't
move, Snow White. You're under
arrest; I don't care what
else is
wrong with you! You move and
you're dead.
Eric has begun to
pace towards Albrecht. Palms up. A gesture of
submission. Albrecht's
battle calm begins to waiver.
ERIC
And I say I'm dead... and I move.
ALBRECHT
No further. I'm serious.
Eric bows, bringing his forehead in
line with the gun's muzzle.
ERIC
Then shoot, if you will.
TIGHT
ANGLE - ALBRECHT
He gives it up. Can't shoot. This is too weird for
him.
ALBRECHT
Are you nuts, walking into a gun?
NEW ANGLE - LESS
THREATENING - ERIC AND ALBRECHT
ERIC
You must listen carefully: the
Fire Department will be here soon.
There is an injured man in the
alley who needs assistance.
(meaningfully)
As Shelly Webster once
needed your
assistance, and as you are shortly
going to need my
assistance.
Albrecht gestures casually, almost comically, with his
pointed
gun. B.g., the crow lands on a fire escape to monitor them.
ALBRECHT
You wanna run that back for me one
time?
SIRENS near, o.s.
Eric listens to them, to the night.
ERIC
Listen: Top Dollar. He
"owns the
street here." He will "erase
my ass."
ALBRECHT
You don't
say.
ERIC
I know Top Dollar has turned your
streets into his hell.
ALBRECHT
Fucking A, my friend.
ERIC
The others are called Skank, T-
Bird. Street names. Funboy.
(beat)
Watch me, office Albrecht.
Eric lifts a chunk of glass from the sidewalk. Slow and easy.
Albrecht
doesn't completely trust him. Up comes the gun.
ALBRECHT
Watch it...
Eric slices open his palm. Blood flows. To his fingertips.
NEW ANGLE -
ERIC AND ALBRECHT
as Eric quickly daubs a crow silhouette in blood on
the wall...
then exhibits the gashed hand to Albrecht.
CLOSE-UP - ERIC'S
HAND
as the blood retreats and the wound seals itself up.
TIGHT ON
ALBRECHT
and the silhouette. Mouth hangs.
ALBRECHT
You're the one
who did Tin-Tin...
PULL BACK FAST to reveal Eric is gone from the frame.
Albrecht does
a quick 180. No Eric. Flashbars from incoming units begin
to bounce red and blue off his face.
ALBRECHT (CONT'D)
Great. Good
night. Guy shows up
looking like a mime from hell.
(beat)
Least
he didn't do that "walking
against the wind" shit; I hate
that.
EXT.
SHOWTIME - NIGHT - TO ESTABLISH.
A night-owl pornucopia. T-Bird enters
beneath a garish theater
marquee. The 2-bill: RUMP ROMP with
BUTTBUSTERS II.
INT. SHOWTIME LOBBY - NIGHT
T-Bird approaches the snack
bar. Wet, breathy mating NOISES
from the auditorium throughout, o.s.
Looking supremely bored,
the counterman, DICKEY BIRD, thumbs a porn
tabloid. So what.
DICKEY BIRD
T-Bird. Thrill me.
T-BIRD
Business.
T-bird heads left through s steal door that Dickie buzzes
open
for him.
INT. SHOWTIME AUDITORIUM (BACKSTAGE) - NIGHT
T-Bird walks
past dust-covered boxy black speakers as we glimpse
Lance and Angelique
making history in reverse, on the back of the
movie screen: oratoria as
good as porn films can make it.
PORN QUEEN (O.S.)
I don't know how to
describe how
I feel, Lance -- so restless --
PORN KING (O.S.)
You're
my Moon Queen, Angelique.
PORN QUEEN (o.S.)
Oooh -- I want you're
rocket right
now in my Sea of Tranquility --
Lance --
ANGLE - CATWALK
STAIRS
As T-Bird approaches, the movie sounds dwindle o.s. He ascends
the skinny metal stairway two steps at a time.
ANGLE - STEEL FACED DOOR
AT TOP OF STAIRS.
As T-Bird nears it, a viewplate SNAPS open to asses
him. By
the time he reaches the top, the door unbolts to admit him.
INT. TOP DOLLAR'S LAIR - NIGHT
As T-Bird enters. The room is organized
around a long meeting
table and flavored with a taste of everything
illegal: drug
paraphernalia, weapons.
Across the table are a couple of
Sentries like the one that
admits T-Bird to the room. TRACK PAST them to
a lank-haired
silhouette as he turns away from a windowshade, backlit by
Showtime's exterior neon.
This is TOP DOLLAR. Who looks like a Johnny
Winter acid
casualty but is deadly cold, definitely the man in charge.
TOP DOLLAR
Wild fucking night. I hear our
pal Tin-Tin got himself very
dead.
T-BIRD
And Gideon's just burned all the
down to the
foundation.
Top's eyebrows go up. Oh really?
T-BIRD (CONT'D)
I
didn't have nothin to do with
that.
TOP DOLLAR
Bet that pisses you
off, right?
T-BIRD
Top, what the fuck is going on
tonight?
TOP
DOLLAR
Stay normal, T. Cops'll be all
hotwired and aggressive. No
combat moves until I check this
out.
EXT. STREET - NIGHT -
(~CROWVISION") HIGH ANGLE
Taking in the street, the Pit, and a little
girl seated on an
abandoned car.
ANGLE - STREET LEVEL - ON ELLY.
Seated
on the looted wheelless car, playing with a small doll.
CLOSER ANGLE -
ON ELLY
She doesn't notice someone is watching her yet.
TIGHT ON DOLL,
THEN ELLY
She looks up o.s. at Eric, who is still out of the frame.
ELLY
What are you supposed to be? A clown?
CLOSE-UP - ERIC
He smiles
for what seems to be the first time. Warm, even past
his crow makeup.
ERIC
Sometimes.
He glances back and logs the location of the Pit for
later, not
in a big hurry just now. Turns back to Elly.
WIDE ANGLE -
ERIC AND ELLY
ELLY
You look like a rock star without a
job.
ERIC
I dabble. May I?
He indicates the car hood, a "seat" next to Elly from
which he
may observe the Pit.
ELLY
If you're not some kinda child
molester.
Eric looks behind himself. Who, me? Genuinely amused. He
shakes his head no and sits down next to Elly.
INT. CLUB TRASH - NIGHT
The music POUNDS and smoke is everywhere, like incense.
INTERCUTS of the
clientele, retro, robotic, clove cigarettes and
rubber clothing; fetish
casual wear.
ANGLE - TOP DOLLAR
right in the center of the noise,
looking downscale and dirty
in this milieu.
ANGLE - ANOTHER CUSTOMER
Passing Top, appraising him, finding him as boring as life
itself.
Undertaker chic, she stares at Top.
TOP DOLLAR
I thought Halloween
was tomorrow
night.
An Oriental bodyguard passes him in f.g., motioning
to follow.
INT. LAO'S NIGHTCLUB OFFICE - NIGHT
Lao watches club
activity on his flybank of TVs. When Top
Dollar shows up at the office
door two Sentries try to bar his
passage. He shoves through.
TOP
DOLLAR
Get outta my way, you mooks.
Lao's demeanor indicates that they
should not kill Top.
LAO
An unexpected pleasure.
TOP DOLLAR
Bad
news. Alot of action on the
streets tonight, and nobody
bothered to
clear it with me. Tin-
Tin got himself whacked.
LAO
Who got himself
what?
TOP DOLLAR
One of mine. And it wasn't a
standard hit.
LAO
I had heard something like this.
(beat)
Describe it for me. The
"hit".
TOP DOLLAR
I was wondering if you could tell
me anything...
about a wildcat
operative.
LAO
I know of no one.
(beat)
But
even if there is, I am sure it
is nothing outside your capacity
to
deal with?
TOP DOLLAR
Anybody violates my turf -- our
turf -- I'll
rip out there heart
and show it to 'em.
LAO
To be sure. Now tell
how your
friend died.
INT. PRECINCT HOUSE - NIGHT
ANNABELLA, a
comfortable large, spider-in-the-web deskworker,
sits typing at a
terminal. Miked headphone in one ear, police
scanner chatter o.s. She
blows and pops a pink bubble of gum.
ALBRECHT (O.S.)
Annie?
ANGLE -
ANNABELLA AND ALBRECHT
Albrecht enters frame from across her countertop.
ANNABELLA
Whatever it is, the answer's no,
Eddie. I'm too busy
tonight.
ALBRECHT
Annie, I need a file.
There is a desperate edge to
Albrecht's voice.
ANNABELLA
Speak up.
(beat; her guard up)
Clear it with the Captain if you
need a file.
ALBRECHT
This is
special, darlin'. Please?
Annabella eyes Albrecht doubtfully.
Fatalistic sigh.
ANNABELLA
Just don't tell me you "owe me
one."
What file?
ALBRECHT
Double homicide. A year ago.
Las Halloween.
EXT. STREET NEAR THE PIT - ERIC AND ELLY - NIGHT
Still hanging by the
car, a bit more familiar with each other
now. A low-slung
mirror-windowed LIMOUSINE hisses past them and
curbs across the street
from the Pit.
ELLY
My mom works over there. I'm
waiting for her,
but she's
probably with him, right now.
ERIC
Who?
ELLY
Mister
Funboy.
ERIC
Mister Funboy lives there?
TWO SHOT - ELLY AND ERIC -
(PIT B.G.)
ELLY
He has a room, upstairs. I don't
like him very
much.
Elly is not happy about this. B.G. we see Grange get out of the
car, heading to the Pit, and notice in passing a guy with the
white face
talking to the little girl down on the block.
ELLY (CONT'D)
Can you
play that thing or do you
just carry it around everywhere?
Elly
indicates the guitar strapped to Eric' back.
ERIC
I can pick out a
tune now
and again.
ELLY
Can you play "Teddy Bears' Picnic?"
(re: doll)
It used to be her favorite.
ERIC
Does she have a name?
ELLY
No name. You sure ask a lot of
questions.
Elly HANDS the doll to
Eric and he experiences a wholly
unexpected flash.
FLASH: Elly and
SHelly sitting as SHelly's vanity, goofing with
makeup, test-driving
lipstick, the doll visible on the vanity.
FLASH ENDS.
RESUME ERIC -
AS THE DOLL DROPS FROM HIS HAND
Pain is trying to fight it's way out of
Eric in surges.
ELLY (OS)
(smart alec)
Hel-lo? Earth to
anybody...?
Eric snaps out of it. Elly retrieves the doll.
ELLY
(CONT'D)
Do you feel okay.
ERIC
No.
ELLY
You gotta go now, I
bet.
ERIC
I have to go.
Half-zomboid, half-determined, he exits.
INT. PIT - NIGHT - WITH GRANGE
As he circulates to the bar, unimpressed.
To the bouncer:
GRANGE
Top Dollar?
BOUNCE
Never heard of him.
GRANGE
Funboy?
BOUNCER
Oh, prob'ly upstairs bangin'
Darla. Pay for
your own beer and
they'll prob'ly be down before you
can drink it.
INT. PRECINCT HOUSE - OFFICE - NIGHT
CLOSE-UP of an 8x10 of the loft
slaughter in Albrecht's hands.
Subject: a document pinned to the wall
with a knife.
ANGLE - ALBRECHT AT DESK.
flipping through the file.
Smoking.
ANGLE - THE 8X10 IN ALBRECHT'S HAND
Subject: Eric, dead in the
street in front of the loft
building. The blood on his face reminiscent
of his crow face.
As Albrecht's hand moves the photo we can see in the
file
several band shots of Eric as a member of Diabolique...
including
the shot on Lao's wall gallery of past performers at
Club Trash.
A
DOUGHUT on a paper plate suddenly touches down in the middle
of all this
research, startling Albrecht.
ANGLE - ANNABELLA BEHIND HIM
ANNABELLA
Don't thank me. Your ass is
already in enough trouble for this shit.
ALBRECHT
I knew that.
Albrecht holds a typewritten page closer to the
the light.
CLOSE-UP DOCUMENT, torn by the knife hole made by Tin-Tin.
It reads: We, the Undersigned tenants of 1929 Calderone Court
Apartments...
ALBRECHT
Another nice white girl with a
cause. Like a
big KICK ME sign.
Albrecht takes up and 8x10 of Eric's face.
ALBRECHT
(CONT'D)
Shelly Webster. And her nice
white boyfriend, Eric Draven.
With a felt-tip pen he superimposes the crow smile, like the make-
up,
like the blood.
ANNABELLA
Your last little wild goose chase
got you
busted back to the Beat
Patrol, just like in a bad
detective story,
Eddie. Are we
doing the wildgoose thing again?
UNDER THIS Albrecht
sketches in Eric's spiky Crow hairdo.
ALBRECHT
Could be.
ANNABELLA
You gonna wind up working at a school
crosswalk. that doughnut's
chocolate you, know.
PUSH IN on the doctored photo. It's Eric. It's
the Crow.
PUSH IN on ALbrecht.
ALBRECHT
Well, hello
there...chocolate,
ANNABELLA
Don't thank me.
ALBRECHT
Thanks,
babe.
INT. THE PIT (REAR) - ERIC ON FIRE ESCAPE - NIGHT
Climbing. The
crow perched on his shoulder. Not in a hurry.
ERIC
It's a Raymond
Chandler evening
And the pavements are all wet, And
I'm lurking in the
shadows, for it
hasn't happened ...
TIGHT CLOSE-UP - ERIC
Impish.
Clown killer.
ERIC (CONT'D)
... yet.
INT. THE PIT - NIGHT
Grange
at a table. SMoking and waiting. No beer. His back
protected, he is
stationed near the fire stair door and has a
good overview of the room.
INT. FUNBOY'S ROOM - NIGHT
CLOSE-UP of a base pipe being lit and hit
hard.
EXT. THE PIT (REAR) - FIRE ESCAPE - RESUMING ERIC - NIGHT
Eric's
gloved hand slides sinuously up rusted railing.
INT. FUNBOY'S ROOM -
NIGHT
A hypodermic needle rises into frame. A nicotined fingernail
flicks bubbles in the syringe. FOLLOW needle down and BROADEN
ANGLE:
Funboy taps up a vein in Darla's arm and shoots her up.
Both are naked in
a shabby bed. Bare lightbulb above.
DARLA
Ooh, baby -- gimme all of
it.
CLOSE-UP - THE NEEDLE
As the plunger depresses.
ANGLE - ON THE
WINDOW
As the crow quite unexpectedly arrives and perches on the sill,
scaring the shit out of our two dopey friends. Funboy pulls a
giant auto
pistol; mock aims, calms down, doesn't fire.
DARLA
It's a big fucking
bird...
She falls back against her pillow, eyes dreamily defocusing.
Funboy giggles. Relaxes the gun, which half-disappears into the
sheets
at his side.
FUNBOY
It's a squab. Here bird, Here,
birdie...
NEW
ANGLE - DARLA AND FUNBOY
Except that Eric now stands near their bed,
across from the
bird's position, the guitar bowslung.
ERIC
Here
Funboy.
Contained panic as Funboy and Darla both startle. The needle
flies and lands at Eric's feet. Empty. Funboy struggles to
maintain
against his high.
FUNBOY
Oh wow, oh wow, don't fucking do
that, man.
I nearly had a fucking
heart attack.
DARLA
Fun -- look at that
guy...
FUNBOY
It's just the dope, don't worry
DARLA
Fun, he's not
going away; he's
scaring the piss outta me!
FUNBOY
Not me.
Funboy
draws the gun from underneath the sheers. Suddenly he seems
totally
focused.
FUNBOY (CONT'D)
Time for you to take your bird and
leave,
freako.
Eric rips open his shirtfront to reveal a circlet of bullet
punctures. This gives Funboy pause.
ERIC
Take your shot funboy. You
got
me, dead bang.
Funboy tilts the gun off target. Grins as Eric
flat handedly
past his chest, indicating where to shoot.
FUNBOY
You
are seriously fucked up, man.
Just look at yourself.
In a blur, he
sighs, and shoots Eric through the heart.
FUNBOY (CONT'D)
BANG! He
shoots, he scores!
Then his expression drags a little bit.
ANGLE - ERIC
Looking down and daubing his hand in the bullet wound on his chest.
ERIC
Bull's eye. Good shot.
ANGLE - DARLA
who starts scrambling to
get out. Grabbing clothes on the floor
around herself. she runs right
into Eric's outstretched hands.
ERIC
Stay.
Eric twists her arm.
CLOSE-UP - DARLA'S FOREARM.
where we may clearly see the needle tracks.
UP ANGLE - ERIC
ERIC
Morphine is bad for you.
He holds her arm
captive. Tight, and we PUSH IN CLOSER to see
the dope evacuating from
the punctures, a reverse of Eric's,
Blood trail. The dope drips from
Darla's arm to the floor.
Darla's eyes roll up into the unconscious. She
slumps.
ANGLE - ON FUNBOY - GAWPING
FUNBOY
How the hell did you do
that?
ERIC
Magic.
Funboy regards Eric's battlescars and guitar.
FUNBOY
Either die or do a solo.
Eric looks briefly to his chest wound,
wincing. He can't seem
to make it tie off fast enough. He turns his
attention back to
Funboy. But his strength is mysteriously ebbing.
ERIC
Neither.
FUNBOY
Yeah, I got a more fun idea myself.
Funboy
lashes out and broadsides Eric across the temple with the
gun. Eric
falls, rolls back to a stance, but Funboy is right on
top of him, howling
like a lunatic and pistol-whipping Eric
relentlessly.
FUNBOY
I hate
trespassers!
(whack!)
I hate prowlers!
(whack!)
I hate
peeping toms!
(whack!)
And right now I hate you!
ANGLE - WALL
NEAR BATHROOM
as Eric, caught off-guard by Funboy's hyper high and
weakened by
his wound, comes slamming into the wall, losing his footing.
Here comes Funboy, and we TILT UP from Eric's position as he
looms,
cocking the pistol, which now has Eric's blood on it.
FUNBOY
Ahh, the
hell with it, I still got
five shots left.
In a blur, Eric grabs
Funboy`s gun hand. Twists to the
crunching of bones. Funboy's
skewed-around gun hand blows a
hole in his own thigh. Funboy fall back
across the bed.
FUNBOY
Owwwaaaa -- fuck me! Look what
you did to my
sheets, you lame
piece'a shit! AAAAaa! Goddd!
ERIC
Does it hurt?
FUNBOY
Does it hurt?! You dead-ass,
clown-faced fuck, of course it
fucking hurts! What the shit are
you gonna do about this?!
Eric sits
on the bed next to Funboy; inspects the ampule of
morphine on the
nightstand, the needle of the syringe already
inserted.
ERIC
I have
some pain killer right here.
And he fills the syringe all the way.
ANGLE ON FUNBOY
as he begins to see the light. He can't get away.
Growing
terror.
FUNBOY
No, wait, no WAIT, that's too
much, man,
that's like overkill,
nobody can take that much, you're
wasting it -- !
ERIC
Your pain ends now.
And Eric rams the needle into Funboy's heart,
driving home
the full dose. Funboy begins to convulse.
Eric falls back
on the bed, his force spent. Darla COMES TO in
the corner,
shock-traumatized. On O.S. COUGH, and Eric opens
his eyes.
The Skull
Cowboy, standing in the room, tips his hat.
SKULL COWBOY
Howdy
(beat)
You look a mess. Like an ole
cooter dog.
TIGHT SHOT - ERIC'S
FACE
streaked with -- mostly -- his own blood.
ANOTHER ANGLE - THE
SKULL COWBOY AND ERIC
SKULL COWBOY
Getting a little ambitious and
extracurricular, aren't we?
ERIC
Go away.
SKULL COWBOY
You need
to learn to mind your own
business or you'll never get where
you think
you're going.
ERIC
Shut up.
SKULL COWBOY
Maybe I was wrong about
you.
The Skull Cowboy seems saddened or disappointed. All we get is
a
little shake of his skull-head.
Darla makes a SOUND and Eric turns
toward her. She's really
confused. She's looking to Eric for some kind
of answer.
ERIC
Your daughter is out there, on the
street, waiting
for you.
She's stunned, utterly speechless. All she can do is look in
Eric's eyes, try to ponder the phantoms there.
ERIC
Go. Now.
Darla
shoves helter-skelter past Eric and out the door without
a glance back
at Funboy.
Eric, recovering, follows slowly, staring at the open door,
stooping to lift the guitar dropped during the fight with
Funboy. The
Skull Cowboy has vanished. PUSH IN. Grimly, Eric
takes a syringe and
begins to draw blood from the late Funboy.
INT. THE PIT - NIGHT
As a
hastily dressed Darla BANGS out through the fire stair door
behind Grange
and FLEES the Pit.
BOUNCER
Hey, g'night, Darla.
(to Grange)
That there is Darla.
GRANGE
Funboy?
Bartender indicates UP with his
thumb. Grange moves to the fire
stairs door.
INT. FUNBOY'S ROOM -
NIGHT
Grange has seen the door ajar and now ENTERS gun-first. Freezes
when he sees:
GRANGE POV - FUNBOY
Half-sheeted, bloody, a hypo hanging
out of his heart.
RESUME GRANGE
Eyes darting, drawn to --
GRANGE'S POV
- THE WALL NEAR FUNBOY
A crow silhouette spray-painted with a syringe of
Funboy's
blood. A thin outline, drippy.
RESUME GRANGE
whirling with
his gun to bring it to bear on --
ANGLE - GRANGE SEES THE WINDOW
The
crow is no longer in the room. Eric is perched on the sill,
guitar and
all, looking right at Grange as if waiting from him.
He winks, holds a
finger to his lips -- sshh --and jumps out
into the night.
ANOTHER ANGLE
- GRANGE
He almost fires, but doesn't. We see instead the priceless
expression on his face as we --
CUT TO:
INT. PRECINCT FOYER - NIGHT
Albrecht lights another smoke, quitting for the night. Waves to
the
late-working Annabella en route.
EXT. PRECINCT HOUSE - NIGHT
Albrecht
hasn't gone three steps before Eric appears behind him,
cat silent,
matching pace.
NB: Eric has got a new black rock-n-roll shirt on... and
a
shell casing from Funboy's gun tied in his hair.
ERIC
Freeze.
Albrecht startles; drops his file. Nearly draws his gun.
ALBRECHT
Jeezus! Don't ever do that, man!
Albrecht pants, hysterical but calming
down. Eric waits.
ALBRECHT (CONT'D)
I told you cops don't say
"freeze".
He retrieves Eric's doctored photo from the spill of papers.
ALBRECHT (CONT'D)
You, my friend, are dead. I saw
your body. You got
buried.
ERIC
I saw it, too.
Albrecht gathers up the file. Eric
stands there. We realize he
is hesitant about touching the file.
ERIC
(CONT'D)
Walk with me.
As Albrecht comes up with the file as they walk.
ANOTHER ANGLE - ERIC AND ALBRECHT ON THE STREET
ALBRECHT
You died,
man. I can't believe it
but here you are. Last year,
you and your
girlfriend --
ERIC
I need you to tell me what you
remember. What
happened to us?
ALBRECHT
You went out the window. She was
beaten
and raped. She died in the
hospital.
They stop. Eric didn't know
this. Fixes Albrecht with a look.
ALBRECHT (CONT'D)
Hey, you asked,
man.
(beat)
She held on for thirty hours in
intensive care.
Hemorrhage,
trauma. He body just finally
gave it up.
(beat;
regret)
I saw it and couldn't do jack for
her.
Eric has grown
increasingly distraught over Albrecht's lines.
Now he turns to Albrecht
and, holding Albrecht's temples with
his fingers, puts his thumbs over
Albrecht's eyes.
TIGHT ON ERIC - ALBRECHT AGAINST WALL
We see Eric
react to a brutal Flash... but we don't see the
Flash.
NEW ANGLE -
ERIC AND ALBRECHT
And Eric tears from Albrecht; staggers back, now
holding his own
head. His crow face slacked in realized horror.
ALBRECHT
You okay, man? I mean, what just
happened.
ERIC
The venom
of bad memories. You
were there; you saw her. I saw
you seeing her.
Understandable nervous, Albrecht lights up a cigarette.
ALBRECHT
You
gotta understand -- I was
hoping she'd talk, give me a lead,
a clue,
something to work with.
But she only said one thing to me
before she
died.
Eric lowers his head, penitent.
ERIC
My name.
ALBRECHT
(fizzles)
I'm sorry as hell, man.
ERIC
Thirty hours. A day of life,
plus
change...
TIGHT TWO-SHOT - ALBRECHT AND ERIC
Eric plucks the
cigarette from Albrecht's lips, taking a single
contemplative puff from
it.
ERIC
Halloween is coming, soon. You
will have Top Dollar if you
watch
for me at the Showtime, tomorrow night.
ALBRECHT
I should be
trying to stop you.
Eric nods, keeping his eyes on the cigarette.
ERIC
Thank you. For giving a damn.
ALBRECHT
My pleasure.
ERIC
Don't smoke these.
As a bus grumbles past on the street, Eric pitches
the butt and
simultaneously ducks out of frame.
ANGLE - ALBRECHT TURNS
to see a blank building wall. Fire escape. Darkness. No Eric.
He does
a full 360 degree turn. Eric is gone again.
ALBRECHT
Damn, I wish he
wouldn't do that.
MOVING ANGLE - FROM BUS ROOF
Coat flapping, Eric is
standing on the bus roof as the bus moves
away from Albrecht's position.
INT. LAO NIGHTCLUB OFFICE - NIGHT
Lao has the partially disassembled rat
skeleton in front of him,
as well as a mortar and pestle with some bits
of crushed bone, and
is smoking powdered rat bone in a pipe and Grange
reports to
him.
GRANGE
The son of a bitch winked at me.
The he
jumped. Three stories.
Lao seems strangely unaffected by the bizarre
nature of Grange's
tale.
LAO
Did you see an animal of any kind?
Did
you see a bird?
GRANGE
(puzzled)
No. I saw a guitar.
(beat; irritated)
This isn't some rock-n-roller
you forgot to pay, is
it?
(beat)
There was a drawing on the wall
that looked like a
bird. In
blood.
Lao's expression is one of sublime content.
LAO
Good.
Grange
It could've been a chicken...
EXT. LIQUOR STORE - NIGHT
- ("CROWVISION")
A LONG SHOT of the T-Bird parked across the street from
the
store as two figures -- T-Bird and Skank -- approach on the
store
side.
SKANK
I wish to hell I had torched
Gideon's, that fat fuck.
T-BIRD
I wish to hell I knew who it was
that made Tin-Tin into a voodoo
doll last night.
ANGLE - CLOSER ON T-BIRD AND SKANK - STREET LEVEL
They
stop walking. Look at each other and sanctimoniously cross
themselves.
Tin-Tin's big R.I.P. moment. T-Bird indicates the
liquor store.
T-BIRD
We need some smokes and some road
beers.
SKANK
Got it.
Skank hustles toward the store. T-Bird crosses to the car.
ANGLE -
T-BIRD - THROUGH CAR WINDOWS
WIDEN ANGLE to include the car as he nears
it. Behind him, two
12-year-old KIDS, AXEL and CHOPPER, enter the store
after Skank,
one wearing a long duster.
INT. LIQUOR STORE - NIGHT
as
the KIDS enter and split between the counter and magazine
rack. East
Indian CLERK. Two boys fight video game wars in the
corner. Skank
browses, grabbing odds and ends.
EXT. STREET / INT. CAR - LOWER ANGLE -
NIGHT
as T-Bird climbs in, digs the last cigarette from his pack,
snaps
his Zippo and in the sudden orange light, sees:
INSERT - REARVIEW
MIRROR
Eric's purloined Strat in the back sear reflecting the light.
ANGLE - T-BIRD
He tries to spin and draw his gun but Eric is upon him,
nestling
one of Tin-Tin's throwing knives right inside T-Bird's ear.
T-BIRD
What the fuck are you supposed to
be, man?!
INSERTS: Eric
liberates T-Bird's automatic from the shoulder
holster; Eric's hand
closes T-Bird's door for him.
ERIC
I'm your passenger. You drive.
And stop talking.
TIGHT ANGLE - T-BIRD'S HANDS
on ignition key and
gearshift, making ready. As ordered.
INT. LIQUOR STORE - ON SKANK AT
COUNTER - NIGHT
He looks outside and sees Eric as the car fires up,
pipes and
glasspacks grumbling. Skank moves, BRISTLING.
SKANK
What's
all this happy horseshit?
And the car peels out maniacally! Skank tries
to pursue -- but
the two KIDS draw weapons and freeze everyone in the
store.
AXEL
Alright, alright, alright --
everybody be cool and stay
exactly
where you are.
Chopper hustles up to the counter and relieves
Skank of a
gigantic Auto Mag.
CHOPPER
Whooooa, cowboy! Cool gun.
Off Skank's look of total outfoxed disgust.--
INT. T-BIRD - TRAVELING
FAST - NIGHT
Vertiginous windshield POV of onrushing street, highspeed.
ERIC (O.S.)
Faster, T-Bird. Faster. You're
a hell of a wheelman; you
know you
can drive faster.
ANGLE - ERIC AND T-BIRD
Eric now holds
T-Bird's own gun on him. Eyes locked on T-Bird.
T-Bird's jump between
Eric's nightmare visage and the roadway.
T-BIRD
You call it, blood --
you got the
gun. You just tell me where you want
to go.
Clearly T-Bird
would relish bisecting Eric with a meat cleaver
as he says this. He's
nervous and needs to hold the road.
ERIC
That's good. We're going
someplace you've never been
before.
EXT. STREET - HIGH ANGLE ON T-BIRD
- NIGHT
as the car burns up the obstacle course of pavement, kicking
wake of litter. PEDESTRIANS scurry to clear the way.
INT. POLICE
CRUISER - NIGHT
Parked in an alley, facing the street. Two cops work on
large
styro cups of steaming coffee. MJ (driver) and SPEEG.
MJ
Smells like rain.
SPEEG
Smells like a septic tank. You
got that
cream stuff?
MJ
In the bag.
Speeg rummages inside the takeout bag.
SPEEG
I hate this cream stuff. They
can't even call it cream,
legally.
They snap to as the T-Bird blazes past, doing ninety.
MJ
What in the crap?
MJ floors the pedal, drenching Speeg in coffee on
takeoff.
SPEEG
Ow! Owowoowowoowo, goddammit!
EXT. STREET - ON ALLEY
- NIGHT
as the cruiser roars out to give chase.
INT. T-BIRD -
TRAVELLING FAST - NIGHT
Eric lends the chase car a backward look.
ERIC
You caught one. Drive faster.
T-BIRD
Man, you gonna get us
killed dead
and I don't even know what you
want!
Eric cocks T_Bird's
pistol and levels it at his face.
ERIC
I want you to stop talking.
And
drive. Drive faster.
Eric rifles the glove box, tossing items out
the window: clips
for the gun. Sunglasses. A giant dildo (brief
eyebrows-up to
T-Bird). Then: a roll of (previously established)
gaffer's
tape. What Eric needs.
ANGLE - T-BIRD AND REARVIEW MIRROR
as
he sees a second cop car join the high speed pursuit,
ERIC (CONT'D)
You're very popular. Thought
you could handle this thing.
T-Bird macho
calcifies. He's going to win.
T-BIRD
To hell with you.
ERIC
(wry)
Naturally.
INSERT - SPEEDOMETER
Climbing swiftly toward the 100
mark.
EXT. CITY STREETS - VARIOUS ANGLES - THE CHASE - NIGHT
A 3-way
pursuit until the T-Bird reaches the outskirts of the
city.
EXT.
DOCKSIDE STREET - NIGHT
All quiet... until the T-Bird ZOOMS past frame.
The lead cop
tries to duplicate the T-Bird's corner-cut and starts
spinning.
It clips a light pole. Rebounds into the path of MJ's unit.
INT. POLICE CRUISER - ON SPEEG AND MJ - TRAVELING - NIGHT
as MJ stands
on the brakes. Collision imminent. They howl.
EXT. DOCKSIDE STREET -
NIGHT
as MJ's unit broadsides the first cop car.
EXT. DETROIT RIVER
SHIPYARD - NIGHT
The T-bird careens through dockside silence, alone,
then
fishtails, SCREECHING, to a lung-compressing halt.
INT. T-BIRD -
ON ERIC AND T-BIRD - NIGHT
T-bird respirating like a jackhammer. Eric
holds stoic.
T-BIRD
So what -- you gonna rape me now?
ERIC
Time
for your reward, T. Payback
with interest earned.
Eric rips a long
strip of tape from the roll.
EXT. DETROIT RIVER SHIPYARD - NIGHT
A
HIGH ANGLE of the car as Eric opens the trunk.
ERIC'S POV - The Trunk.
loaded with plastique, canisters, timers, arson paraphernalia.
INT.
T-BIRD - FAVOR T-BIRD - NIGHT
SLOW TILT starting with T-Bird's foot,
firmly taped to the
pedal. Mummified into his seat. Hands taped to the
wheel.
Throat taped hard against the headrest.
The car is now in gear,
idling.
ANGLE - ON ERIC FROM WINDOW
He drops an incendiary right into
T-Bird's lap. T-Bird squirms.
No go. Eric reaches in with a bungie
cord.
ERIC
A little restrictive? Good.
(chilling)
You held
her down and raped her.
You were the first. She burned
while you were
inside of her.
(re: bomb)
What's the lag on this? About
twenty
seconds, would you say?
T-bird thrashes, but he's immobilized. Can't
even budge the
wheel.
ERIC (CONT'D)
I've comrades in hell, T-bird.
Give them my best.
Eric activates the timer. Yanks up hard on the
bungie cord.
INSERT: T-BIRD FOOTWELL
The bungie cord pulls T-Bird's
foot all the way down on the
pedal.
ANGLE - ON CAR, FROM DOCKSIDE
Eric
steps back, plucks the guitar out as the car starts to move. The
car
roars for the edge of the dock, about a distance of a
football field.
Eric examines T-bird's auto pistol and pops the
clip.
INTERCUTS: as the
car speeds for the water's edge, Eric thumbs
bullets from the clip, one
by one.
INT. T-BIRD - TRAVELING FAST - NIGHT
T-bird's eyes bug in
horror and he goes MMMMMMMMHHH!
CLOSE-UP - THE CLIP IN ERIC'S HAND
thumbing out the final bullet.
EXT. DETROIT RIVER SHIPYARD - RESUMING
ERIC - NIGHT
ERIC
All gone.
ANGLE - T-BIRD REACHES DOCKSIDE
Lifting
off and blowing all to hell, a billion smithereens of
phosphorescent firs
pattering into the dark water. It hits.
Sinks. Weird flare glow as the
car quickly submerges.
ANGLE - ERIC
heaving the gun into the distant
water. Plosh. He produces T-
Bird's accelerator. Squirts it into the
ground. He
prestidigitates and T-Bird's Zippo appears in his hand. He
flicks it and drops it into the flammable puddle.
HIGH LONG SHOT - ERIC
walking slowly out of the scene as the firepool coalesces into
a burning
crow shape.
INT. DARLA'S APARTMENT - DAWN
CLOSE-UP of a frying pan
busy burning some pretty firebombed
looking eggs. Kind gross.
ANGLE -
DARLA AT THE STOVE.
NOT THRILLED WITH HER OWN PROGRESS.
DARLA
I
never was too good at this
domestic shit.
ANGLE - ELLY AT LIVING ROOM
WINDOW
staring outside at nothing in particular. Yet.
ELLY
Don't
say "shit".
(beat)
That's okay. Corn Flakes are
okay. Anything.
She pauses as she hears a lilting, faraway GUITAR STRAIN.
Across the
street she can make out the figure of Eric on his
roof playing the
guitar.
EXT. ROOF OF LOFT BUILDING DAWN
EXTREME CLOSE of a Pignose
Amp. More soft GUITAR strokes as
CAMERA FOLLOWS a patchwork a
taped-together, jerry-rigged
cables to:
ANGLE - ERIC ON ROOF --
shirtless, crosslegged, his Crow make-up
streaked by the night's work.
His fingering is unsure and he
tries the tune again.
INSERT - We she
Shelly's engagement ring on a leather thong
around Eric's neck. Like an
amulet.
ANGLE - ERIC PLAYING
He's got it right this time. Strong, sure
CHORDS. Passionate.
We can almost imagine him conjuring Shelly via
musical sorcery.
He holds a stroke, letting it ring. Sun rises behind
him.
IRATE VOICE (O.S.)
Hey, shut the fuck up!
Eric's eyes, closed
with the moment, dart left. Funny.
EXT. MAXI-DOGS - DAY
Later. Elly
is seated on a stool.. Mickey gives her a chili
dog.
MICKEY
Chili
dog for breakfast... it's
original.
ELLY
Mom tried to cook.
MICKEY
Oh.
CUSTOMER (O.S.)
Hey, Mickey, I need a special
with
everything. No sawdust.
MICKEY
(to Elly)
Everyone's a
comedian. Enjoy.
Mickey EXITS FRAME.
GRANGE (O.S.)
You're Elly,
right? I know your
mom.
Elly turns. Grange sits next to her. Lao's
mirrored-windowed car
is parked across the street, b.g.
ELLY
A lot of
people "know" my mom.
Grange points o.s., indicating he wants coffee
from Mickey.
GRANGE
I know your friend, too -- the one
that looks
like a rock star.
ELLY
I don't know you.
GRANGE
(easily)
I'd like to get in touch with him.
Elly sizes Grange up.
ELLY
You're
not a cop, either. What do
you want him for?
GRANGE
I'm looking for
a good guitar man.
ELLY
Right.
Grange withdraws a $10 bill from his
wallet and slides it across
the countertop to Mickey.
ELLY (CONT'D)
You buying?
(cuts him some slack)
He kinda wanders around. You'll
see him if you pay attention.
GRANGE
I need to find him kind of soon,
Elly.
INT. LOFT - ON ERIC - DAY
No shirt, the ring on the thong around
his neck -- workout mode.
He twirls and performs odd Crow moves of
increasing complexity
in the big open living room. On purpose, he
stretches hard
against the bedroom doorframe.
FLASH: Shelly stands in
the blue moonlight near the picture window
wearing a rococo Victorian
gown. PUSH IN TIGHT as she is
embraced by a nude Eric. He undoes the
last few remaining ties
that hold the gown in place. FOLLOW THE GOWN as
it crumples
down the length of Shelly's (also otherwise nude) body to the
floor...
FLASH ENDS.
LOW ANGEL - FROM INSIDE THE BEDROOM - ON ERIC
hanging there, inviting the pain the FLASHES bring. Breathing
as though
he is pumping iron, pumping up.
ANGLE - LATER - ERIC IN BEDROOM
embracing a ragged full-length dress that used to be Shelly's.
FLASH:
Eric and Shelly (wearing the same dress), exchange an
extremely
passionate and intimate KISS in the moonlight.
FLASH ENDS.
ANGLE -
RESUMING ERIC
as he drops the dress. Absorbing the pain and memories.
ANGLE - LATER - ERIC IN LIVING ROOM
executing a complex roll that winds
him up at the windowsill.
He grasps it with both hands.
FLASH: A series
of CLOSE SHOTS of Eric and Shelly's HANDS, each
moving along the other's
body. Curves and dips and contours.
But Eric's gaze never leaves
SHelly's eyes.
FLASH ENDS.
ANGLE - RESUMING ERIC AT WINDOW
His GAZE
similarly FIXED. Bringing his hands away and clapping
them together,
deep breath, fingertips pressed to his face, like
Kung Fu prep. When he
opens his eyes, the crow is there before
him on the sill.
ERIC
That's
better.
He wipes his torso down with a towel.
ERIC (CONT'D)
It's
almost time.
He holds his hand in front of his face and he flexes it.
We can
HEAR tendons CRACKLE like a harness. Closes it into a powerful
fist.
INT. TOP DOLLAR'S LAIR - NIGHT
TIGHT on Skank as he slams his
fist down on the table. He has
a black eye and facial scuffs from his
liquor store encounter.
SKANK
Top, I made the sumbitch! Face
all
painted white like some kinda
fuckin' kabuki homo!
WIDE ANGLE to
include all present: Lao, Grange, Lao Guards #1
and #2, Top Dollar, and
a Sentry. Top dusts up a line and
rinses his nostrils with brandy.
LAO
Sounds like our "Crow" is
out-maneuvering you.
TOP DOLLAR
"Our"
Crow...?
LAO
Come now. You've seen the
graffiti -- all over the
city in
the few hors it has taken your
men to drop like plague victims.
What about your turf, Top?
(mockingly)
You don't seem to have
ripped out
anyone's heart yet.
TOP DOLLAR
(pissed off)
The
night is young.
SKANK
(hot)
The found T-bird flash-fried to
what was left of his fucking car!
Top is angry too, but won't show it to
Lao. He rises and goes
to the window. Neon glow. Top sees something
outside, below,
that really torques him off.
EXT. STREET OUTSIDE
SHOWTIME - NIGHT (TOP'S POV)
A phantom GRAFFITI ARTIST is spray-painting
a crow shape on the
condemned building right across the street.
INT.
TOP DOLLAR'S LAIR - NIGHT
Top whip-drawing an auto pistol and shooting
below.
TOP DOLLAR
Hey, you little fuckweed! That's
against the law!
His gun smoking. Momentary empowerment.
TOP DOLLAR (CONT'D)
I don't
give a shit what kinda
bird this guy is.
EXT. WINDOW - NIGHT
As Top
turns from the window, PULL BACK to incorporate the
chunky shadows where
the lights don't fall. Eric is there,
perched on the narrow exterior
ledge...but we don't know it
until he opens his eyes, two dots of white
in the blackness.
INT. TOP DOLLAR'S LAIR - NIGHT
LAO AT TABLE --
angered by this macho horseshit, annoyed at his
time being frittered.
LAO
I am sitting over here.
He SLAMS a palm on the table and the room
goes silent. Top
looks sheepish.
LAO (CONT'D)
Do you think this
childish
machismo impresses me?
(regains composure)
When I was a
boy in Saigon I
watched my country change one
block at a time, one
building at
a time. Whole lives erased. A
way of life, polluted.
Today, no
one forces me to move. I use my
powers to change your
country, one
block at a time, one building at
a time.
TOP DOLLAR
Nice speech. What's it supposed
to mean?
LAO
Your comprehension is
not
required. Your cooperation and,
indeed, your ability are the
issues on the table.
Top rallies to this.
TOP DOLLAR
Whatever you
say, I can do.
Skank looks around, nervous and jumpy, a contradiction to
Top's
guarantee.
LAO
That's reassuring.
CLOSE-UP - TOP'S SHELL
CASING IN ERIC'S HAND
from the ledge. Endstamp is for a .45 caliber.
ANGLE - ERIC ON LEDGE
He sniffs the cartridge. We can see Funboy's
cartridge in his
hair. He fists the shell casing tightly.
ANGLE -
DOWN-TABLE, AT SKANK
Jittery, grabbing a clip for his own automatic.
SKANK
What was that -- !?
It wasn't anything. Skank loads, stands and
jacks the action on
his gun. Lao looks questioningly to Top Dollar.
TOP DOLLAR
Too many poppers, Skank. Relax. Heel.
ANGLE - WINDOW
BEHIND TOP DOLLAR
A black blur as Eric arches through, spilling Top.
ANGLE - MEN SEATED AT TABLE
Eric back flips the length of the table and
kicks the gun from
Skank's hand. All react. Weapons out.
CLOSE-UP -
SKANK'S GUN
spinning mid-air to land in Eric's open hand!
GENERAL ANGLE
- BIG MOBY SHOOTOUT - (VARIOUS)
Death cleans house. Standing on the
table, Eric fires rearward
under his own arm to clip Lao Guard #1. He
pivots, shooting,
and takes out Lao Guard #2 -- who slams backward into
the steel
door as it being opened by the Sentry outside. Crash! The
door is shut again.
ANGLE - GRANGE AND LAO
Grange sprays the room with
a Calico 950 Auto, shoving Lao
beneath the table for cover.
ANGLE - ERIC
Bullets hit him and demolish everything behind him. Skank hits
the deck
again. Eric fires and Lao Guard #1 sucks three hits
across the chest,
firing convulsively against the ceiling, blowing
the lights.
ANGLE - TOP
DOLLAR
springing up from behind table. But Eric is gone from the field
of fire and one shot strikes Skank, rising at the far end.
ANGLE - LAO
AND GRANGE
making for the door, Grange as shield. Lao draws a pistol.
The door
opens and Lao shoots a Sentry to clear him out of the way.
ANGLE - TIGHTER ON LAO
A last look back toward Eric and Grange hustle
Lao out.
Door SLAM o.s. Top is out of ammo as Eric lands from above
frame right in front of him and slaps the gun from his hand.
TOP
DOLLAR
(awed but maintained)
You want my attention, man you
got
it.
ANGLE - SKANK UNDER TABLE
Wounded but clawing toward Eric just the
same.
SKANK
It's him, Top! He dusted T-Bird!
ANGLE - ERIC AND TOP
DOLLAR, FACE-TO-FACE
ERIC
You have to be SKank.
(to Top Dollar)
One moment.
As he speaks, WIDEN FRAME as he turns and grabs the incoming
Skank by the hair.
ERIC
Thank of a snappy comeback for me
on your
way down.
Without a beat he pitches Skank right out the window! Skank
howls
all the way down.
EXT. STREET - ON POLICE CAR - NIGHT
Damaged
from the wreck, limping home, piloted by our pals Speeg
and MJ. Skank
smashes down into the roof, imploding the
flashbar and windshield. MJ
drenches his lap in fresh coffee.
MJ
OwwwAAHHH son of a BITCH!
ANGLE
- SIDEWALK ACROSS THE STREET - ON ALBRECHT
who watches with slow marvel
from the shadows
ALBRECHT
Jesus Christ...
He runs to assist the
demolished cruiser.
INT. TOP DOLLAR'S LAIR - RESUMING - NIGHT
Just
Top, Eric, corpses, and lazily drifting gunsmoke.
ERIC
Top Dollar,
you're the only one
here still wasting good air...
TOP DOLLAR
Five
large, in the drawer right
over there. I never saw you.
ERIC
Do
you know what you destroyed?
TOP DOLLAR
Take the dope, too.
Eric
backhands Top into the wall. Gets in his face, seething.
ERIC
A year
ago. A very nice lady
circulated a petition. She died.
Last
Halloween. Answer yes or no.
TOP DOLLAR
That's ancient history.
ERIC
It's yesterday! Do you know what
you destroyed?
Top Dollar yells
right back at Eric's anger.
TOP DOLLAR
Who gives a fuck! I'm a
businessman. You gonna do me,
then do me and shut you're face!
ERIC
You don't even remember...
TOP DOLLAR
I never forget anything,
dickhead.
That building was a sweep-and-
clear; the bitch was a
nuisance
with her goddamned petition. It
got a little rowdy... end of
story.
ERIC
Rowdy. Let me fill in some gaps
for you.
And he grabs
Top's head the way he grabbed ALbrecht's earlier,
slams Top into the
wall. Nose-to-nose.
FLASH: Shelly backing away from oncoming Funboy in
the loft,
trying to retreat, nowhere to run, her home invaded, scared.
FLASH ENDS.
ANGLE - TOP DOLLAR AND ERIC
Top is quivering, almost
helpless in Eric's hypnotic grasp.
Eric winces, hard, and --
FLASH:
Shelly cut, bleeding, struggling against T-Bird. Wild.
FLASH ENDS.
ANGLE - RESUMING TOP DOLLAR AND ERIC
Viciously close, more intimate and
lethal than anything.
ERIC
You're a detail man, Top -- you
need to
see more.
This time Top tries to twist from Eric's grasp but it's no
good.
FLASH: Shelly, comatose in ICU, eyes fixed and staring,
hoses
darting in and out, cold blue refrigerator light.
Bloody, bruised and
broken (from Albrecht;s memory)
FLASH ENDS.
CLOSE-UP - TOP DOLLAR
arching, stiffening in pain.
CLOSE-UP - TOP DOLLAR AND ERIC
ERIC
All
of her pain, Top. Thirty
hours. All at once...
Eric bears down on Top
Dollar again. Top screams. Blood begins
to leak from his eyes, nose,
ears.
ERIC (CONT'D)
...all for you.
FLASH: Rapidfire CLOSE-UPS. A
jagged compound fracture,
jutting, Shelly's eye, blood-red sclera,
purpled and sunken.
Her scraped-raw hand clawing at air. Icebox
lighting. A TIGHT
SHOT of her monitor going flatline: eeeeeeeeeeeeee...
TWO-SHOT - RESUMING ERIC AND TOP DOLLAR.
as Top sags in Eric's grasp,
terror fixing his wide-staring dead
eyes. Eric lets him drop like a
laundry sack.
ERIC
I didn't think you could handle it
either.
O.S.
BANG of impact, heavy against the steel door. Eric turns.
ANGLE - STEEL
DOOR
as it is battered down by a squad of police using a power-ram.
All
weapons snap up to bear on Eric.
LEAD SWAT
That's all she wrote,
Bozo! You
stand down now, and that's an
order!
ANGLE - ERIC AS HE
MOVES
using his foot to shove the massive conference table at the
incoming SWATS while launching himself into the air, flipping
toward the
window and arching through cleanly as the cops open
fire on command.
Bullets tear the room to pieces.
LEAD SWAT
The fire escape's covered.
EXT. SHOWTIME - FRONT FIRE ESCAPE - NIGHT
Picking up Eric on his dive
through the window, bullets chasing
him. Immediate police fire from
below sparks off the ironwork.
Eric ducks slugs balletically and scampers
to the roof.
ANGLE - SHOWTIME ROOFTOP EDGE
Eric somersaults over.
Bullets chip brick in his wake.
STREET LEVEL - UP ANGLE TOWARD ROOF.
Showtime girded police cars and MARKSMEN, Eric a distant
shadow figure
above. Here comes a TEAM LEADER with a bullhorn.
TEAM LEADER
(FILTERED)
On the roof! Keep firing! Keep
firing!
A fury of law
enforcement ordnance cuts loose all around him.
RESUMING ERIC ON
SHOWTIME ROOF EDGE
A forearm up against the fusillade. Below him --
ANGLE - PIT FRONT FIRE ESCAPE
Here come Lead SWAT and his Merry MEN.
MOVING ANGLE - WITH ERIC - ADJACENT ROOFTOP
Eric runs for it. Half a
story higher. He hits the wall and
skitters up, gripping tiny cracks in
the brickwork.
ANGLE - RESUMING MEN ON FRONT SHOWTIME FIRE ESCAPE.
Lead
SWAT hesitates -- because of what he sees.
LEAD SWAT
Holy shit, it's
spiderman.
He tries to pull a bead and fires too late.
LEAD SWAT
(CONT'D)
What're you boy scouts staring at!
Let's Go! Let's go! Let's
go!
MOVING ANGLE - PICKING UP ERIC ON NEXT ROOF
He sprints to the far
edge and dives to the next lower rooftop.
As he lands he is nailed by a
helicopter spotlight, boring in
from behind and above the row of
buildings.
MOVING ANGLE - THE STREET BELOW
COPS below, COPS in the
chopper, everyone rushing parallel to
Eric, trying to keep up.
ERIC'S
POV - THE STREET, THE HELICOPTER
PAN QUICK to the next ledge. COPS
right behind him on the roof
as well.
WITH ERIC - AS HE RUNS TO THE
EDGE.
and finds a void waiting there. No connecting building.
ANOTHER
MOVING ANGLE - ERIC
staying ahead of the search light. A fantastic
series of artful
moves that wind him up at the rear edge of the roof.
ANGLE - SWAT MEN ON NEXT ROOF
sighting Eric as the light picks him out.
Eric glances at
them... then jumps.
CHOPPER PILOT (O.S./FILTERED)
He's off the roof. We can't see
him.
CLOSE-UP - LEAD SWAT
pulling his
weapon off target, because there is not target.
LEAD SWAT
Dammit to
hell!
(beat; to men)
Come on.
ANGLE - ALLEY - STREET LEVEL
Eric
lands like a falling safe, scattering garbage. But he's
okay, up and
running.
ANGLE - ERIC'S RUNNING POV - END OF ALLEY
as his escape is cut
off by a police car that screeches to a
stop, blocking the exit.
ANOTHER ANGLE - ERIC
as he backpedals, scanning for an alternate escape.
ALBRECHT
(from car)
Come on!
CLOSER ANGLE - POLICE CAR
We can
see Albrecht. Eric dives inside and the car burns rubber.
INT.
ALBRECHT'S CAR - TRAVELLING - NIGHT
Albrecht harried and frantic, but in
control.
ALBRECHT
Keep your head down!
He twists and turns the car,
glancing rearward for pursuit.
Gradually he calms down.
ALBRECHT
(CONT'D)
I figured you might need a ride
home.
Eric looks up at him
from his half-concealed crouch.
ERIC
It's done.
ALBRECHT
I figured
as much. Did you cap
off Funboy.
ERIC
Funboy had to leave this
mortal
coil.
ALBRECHT
Yeah, among others.
(sees Eric's
condition)
Hey, man -- you're hit.
ERIC
It's only a flesh wound.
ALBRECHT
It's only fourteen or fifteen
flesh wounds.
Eric sits up as
the car gains distance. Grabs the cigarette out
of ALbrecht's mouth.
Takes his single puff.
ERIC
You shouldn't smoke these.
He pitches
the smoke out the open car window.
ALBRECHT
Great. Litterbug of the
Living
Dead.
Eric turns back to Albrecht.
ERIC
I'm finished.
Eric
shoots him a doubtful look.
ERIC (CONT'D)
I mean, I've done what I
came to
do. It shouldn't hurt this much.
But it will pass...
ALBRECHT
(not buying it)
Right.
(beat)
You sure I can't
just take you to
the emergency ward?
EXT. STREET - NIGHT - ON
ALBRECHT'S CAR
It hangs a turn and their escape is made.
ERIC (O.S.)
They couldn't do anything for me.
ALBRECHT (O.S.)
How 'bout the
morgue?
ERIC (O.S.)
No. I have one more thing to do.
EXT. STREET -
ANOTHER PART OF THE CITY - NIGHT
Lonelier, less traffic, more deserted.
ANGLE - ON ALBRECHT AND ERIC THROUGH WINDSHIELD - TRAVELLING
ALBRECHT
You're gonna kill somebody else.
(beat; no response)
We're gonna
stop and get a shit-load
of Band-Aids?
Eric is obviously fighting to
stay centered, stay conscious.
His last fight has caused him a great deal
of damage, taken a
lot out of him. He needs to recharge.
ERIC
I have
to prepare for an
anniversary. This coming night.
HOLD on their two
kinds of determination. as we
DISSOLVE TO:
EXT. CITYSCAPE - DAY
High blue sky. It might even be pretty if it wasn't Detroit.
INT.
LAO'S CLUB OFFICE - DAY
The TV flybank pulses with videotaped images of
Club Trash's of
various performers -- including Diabolique. On several
screens,
one-by-one, various images of a guitar-playing Eric Draven
FREEZE-FRAME as we PULL BACK to the desk. Lao has the 8x10 from
the
corridor gallery. He places it within eyeshot and resumes
work on the
desk BELOW FRAME; we can't see it yet, among other
scattered research
and inconcubula.
ANGLE - GRANGE
Entering and crossing to the desk. As
he comes up to the desk,
he DRAWS BACK.
GRANGE
What... the hell is
that?
LAO
(calmly)
This is a cobra, Mr. Grange. Yes,
it is
real.
NEW ANGLE - LAO AND GRANGE
Revealing Lao with a sealed cage,
holding a large, live cobra in
his hands. The killing blade is nearby.
GRANGE
That thing is poisonous.
LAO
Extremely so.
(beat)
You
and I are the recipients of
unwanted good fortune, in the form
of a
man everyone is calling The Crow.
Grange makes a face. Can't keep his
eyes off the cobra.
GRANGE
Give me a break. That guy's a wacko...
LAO
I intend no slight to you, but I
cannot find the English to
adequately express just what he
is. I suppose Western mythology
would
describe him as a Fury.
GRANGE
Not a Plymouth Fury, I bet.
Lao
chuckles indulgently.
LAO
Do you know of spirit assassins?
You do
know the dead can rise?
Properly motivated, of course.
GRANGE
Like
some sort of zombie on a
revenge trip.
LAO
Mmm. But tonight I can
take what
is his.
GRANGE
Only thing you'll get from that
clown is a
faster way to die.
LAO
To the contrary...
ZZLIP! Lao smoothly
BEHEADS the snake with the Blade against
the stone surface of the desk
and discards the writhing body.
He squeezes behind one of the eyes and a
VENOM SAC protrudes
like a dark pimento.
LAO pulls it free of the milky,
clinging tissue and EATS IT.
Off Grange's stunned expression.
LAO
(CONT'D)
...all the dying tonight will be
done by the former Eric
Draven.
Lao exhibits the blade to Grange as though it explains all.
LAO (CONT'D)
Who is only invulnerable so long
as he cares about the
dead. When
he begins to care about the living,
you'll find his heart
can bleed...
and I want it to bleed for me.
GRANGE
Kill a dead guy?
Lao POPS the second venom sac; swallows it. Pleased.
LAO
Truly kill
him. So I may crush
his skull and smoke it.
Lao SHRUGS. Grange can
handle it.
LAO (CONT'D)
Let it suffice that I need him...
and to get
to him, we'll need his
little friend.
Finally, an assignment Grange
can comfortable understand.
INT. LOFT - DAY
Eric, barechested,
emotionally tapped, clean of makeup and blood
but exhausted, his
movements retarded and slack. Staring
fixedly into the fireplace, where
he burns everything he could
find of his past: the junk from the makeup
table, the masques,
photos of himself and Shelly.
INT. LOFT - STAIRWELL
- DAY
Moving with Elly as she nears the open loft door. She PEEKS
cautiously inside.
RESUME ERIC
Without looking toward the door, he
speaks.
ELLY
What's going on...?
ERIC
A remembrance.
(beat)
A closure.
And Eric consigns to the fire the DRESS we saw earlier.
Holds a photograph in a broken frame. Cracked glass. Subject:
Eric and
Shelly, goofing for the camera.
He chucks it into the fire. Draws a
deep breath.
ERIC
Better now. I feel good. How are
you, Elly, my
friend?
Elly is clearly uncomfortable, groping for an excuse just to see
Eric. Eric is staring at her, intently.
ERIC
What is it?
ELLY
I
knew. I knew I knew you. Even
with the makeup and stuff you
wore.
(beat)
You really loved her, didn't you?
CLOSE-UP - FIREPLACE
The
photo burns and blackens in the grate.
ERIC
You brought flowers. As
long as
you don't forget her, Elly, she
lives.
ELLY
(upset)
She's dead. She's gone. And now
you're just gonna go away and
never
come back, too. I hate this
place; it isn't fair.
ERIC
Elly...
He
draws her close. Wipes away an errant tear with his thumb.
ERIC
(CONT'D)
Sometimes the people we care about
are gone, for no reason.
Sometimes
that's really tough. I cry. But if
the people we love are
gone, we keep them --
He taps Elly's temple, then his won.
ERIC
(CONT'D)
-- right here. It's a big
responsibility. And that makes it
okay to mourn.
(beat)
I know that if you weren't here,
I'd be
very sad.
Elly gives Eric a hug.
ELLY
You look funny without your
white
face on. Like it's your day off
or something.
He quizzical
expression amuses him.
ERIC
Somebody here wants to meet you. Gabriel?
Gabriel the cat has wandered near the fireplace to join them.
Elly is
immediately smitten. Happy.
ELLY
I remember him! Here, Gabriel...
here kitty... Gabriel... Is he
still yours?
ERIC
I think he's yours,
now.
The cat seems to like that idea. Elly wraps him hugely up in
her
arms, talking to him: "How're you, Gabriel, whatcha doin'"
ANOTHER ANGLE
- TIGHTER ON ERIC
While Elly is preoccupied with the cat, Eric gives up
his last
bit of Shelly to the fire - a portrait photo of her, small and
creased. He puts it in the fire, watches it burn for a beat,
then turns
to Elly.
ERIC (CONT'D)
I have something else for you.
BACK FOCUS as
Eric lifts off his neck Shelly's ring for Elly's
inspection. The ring
twirls large in f.g.
ELLY
Nobody ever gave me something like
that
before. Ever.
Eric places it around her neck. Elly BEAMS.
ERIC
Shelly would've wanted you to have
it. This way, you'll think of her
every time you see it...
ELLY
And she'll be alive. Up here.
Elly
TAPS her own temple with a smile, keeping one hand on the
ring.
CUT
TO:
EXT. STREET - DAY
Blowing wind. TRICK-OR-TREATERS wisp past.
Ghosts, witches,
demons out for Halloween.
ANGLE - CEMETERY FENCE
walking home with Gabriel zipped up inside her coat is Elly. A
fire
engine wails past in the opposite direction.
ANGLE - ELLY ON BROWNSTONE
STEPS
Strictly downscale building. Elly to Gabriel"
ELLY
You're
gonna like it here.
A car curbs across the street as she enters the
building.
ANGLE - PUSH IN ON CAR
as the window cranks down to reveal
Grange at the wheel.
INT. DARLA'S APARTMENT - DAY
Darla nervously
smoking, doing her best to stay clean, but
jittery. Elly enters the
shabby living room with Gabriel in her
arms.
DARLA
I was wonderin'
where you'd
gotten to --
(she sees Gabriel)
Oh, Elly, honey, a
cat. Here?
ELLY
He was a present. Besides, we're
moving anyway.
You said.
DARLA
We'll discuss this later.
Obviously. You left the
door open.
DARLA points. As Elly goes to close the door it opens.
NEW
ANGLE - FAVOR THE DOOR
Grange enters accompanied by two Asian martial
arts STRONGARMS
(Lao Guards #3 & #4). Grange looks around, bemused, his
manner
avuncular.
GRANGE
Hi, Elly. Remember me?
Elly's surprise is
evident. Darla is just plain pissed off.
DARLA
I don't remember you.
And I don't
remember inviting...
GRANGE
(to his MEN)
If she
opens her face again, shoot
her in the head.
ANGLE - DARLA
Mouth
stalling in the ON position as Lao Guard #3 pulls a
gigantic gun, draws
and cocks.
ELLY
(panicked)
Mom -- !
ANGLE - GUARD #4 AND ELLY
as he scoops her up, captive.
ANGLE - GRANGE AND GABRIEL
He strolls the
circuit of the room, stopping near the window.
GRANGE
You should
listen to your mother.
She said no cats.
Grange pitches Gabriel right
out the window.
ELLY
Gabriel!
Grange pulls out a compact Polaroid
camera.
GRANGE
Now that's the expression I want.
ANGLE - ELLY AND
GUARD #4
As she struggle mightily, to no avail, as Grange moves in to
snap his shot.
GRANGE (CONT'D)
Say cheese.
He snaps. On the SX-70
WHIRR and flash white-out, we --
EXT. LOFT BUILDING ROOFTOP - SUNSET
Dark clouds have gathered to highlight the sunset. Eric plays
the guitar
- LOUD, the SHelly theme in a major key. Where
before it was wandering,
uncertain, now it's bold and
heartbreaking. Definitive. Pain replaced
by strength and a
sense of homecoming.
As Eric gets to the end of it,
the notes are flying out... At
the climax, rips the guitar up over his
head and brings it
down -- SMASH -- on the Pignose. He's finished here.
ROOF EDGE - FROM STREET
as the broken guitar SAILS OUT over the building
edge.
INT. LOFT BUILDING STAIRWELL - DUSK
As Eric comes down the
stairs. Notices the open door.
INT. LOFT - DUSK
He enters,
cautiously, to find an envelope laying in the middle
of the floor. He
opens it.
INSERT - THE POLAROID OF ELLY
with a note.
UP ANGLE AT ERIC
READING THE NOTE - FROM FLOOR
The crow flies past behind