Almost Famous Page #5

WILLIAM:

Sir, I'm a journalist, and here's a

copy of the magazine.

The magazine hangs in mid-air.

SCOTTY:

You're not on the list. Go to the

top of the ramp with the girls!

Slam. William stands there for a moment. Unsure of what to

do next, he looks back to the top of the ramp. Rejected by

him just moments earlier, the groupies now feign disinterest.

Bracing himself, William rings again. The door opens slowly

this time. Scotty stands peering at him.

WILLIAM:

(in a rush)

What-happens-after-I-go-to-the-top-of-

the-ramp with-the-gi -

Slam. Lock.

26 EXT. TOP OF SPORTS ARENA RAMP -- NIGHT26

William inches into the realm of the girls at the top of the

ramp. The wind whips. It's just him, and two Groupies in

their evening best. They now pretend to barely notice the

young journalist who has been banished to stand with them.

Chattering excitedly, with sophistication far beyond her 17

years, is ESTRELLA. She sports long unruly black hair. Her

partner hangs in the shadows, adjusting shoes. Estrella turns

to the kid with great disinterest.

ESTRELLA:

Who are you with?

WILLIAM:

(embarrassed to be alive)

Me? I'm with myself.

ESTRELLA:

No, who are you with? What band?

WILLIAM:

I'm here to interview Black Sabbath.

(beat)

I'm a journalist. I'm not a... you

know...

Estrella stares at him. Moving into the parking lot light,

introducing herself, is a luminous girl in a green faux-fur

trimmed coat. This is PENNY LANE. There is an inviting warmth

and real interest in the way she asks:

PENNY LANE:

... you're not a what?

WILLIAM:

(enthralled)

Oh... I'm just... not a... you know.

PENNY LANE:

Not a "what"?

WILLIAM:

(charmed)

You know. A "groupie."

The two girls are deeply insulted by the word.

ESTRELLA:

Ohhh!

WILLIAM:

Sorry, I -

PENNY LANE:

We. Are not. "Groupies."

Estrella indicates Penny with great reverence.

ESTRELLA:

This is Penny Lane, man. Show some

respect.

WILLIAM:

-- sorry.

Penny steps closer, focusing completely on the kid. Behind

her, concert-goers throw a few woo-woos their way. She seems

not to hear them.

PENNY LANE:

"Groupies" sleep with rock stars because

they want to be near someone famous.

We are here because of the music. We

are Band Aids.

ESTRELLA:

She used to run a school for Band Aids.

PENNY LANE:

We don't have intercourse with these

guys. We support the music. We inspire

the music. We are here because of the

music.

William is nodding like a doll in a dashboard window.

Listening.

ESTRELLA:

Marc Bolan broke her heart, man. It's

famous.

PENNY LANE:

It's a long story. I'm retired now.

I'm just visiting friends.

ESTRELLA:

She was the one who changed everything.

She said "no more sex, no more

exploiting our bodies and hearts... "

WILLIAM:

Right. Right.

ESTRELLA:

"... just blow-jobs, and that's it."

WILLIAM:

Okay. Well, see, now I get the

difference.

Shot drifts off him and picks up, out of the darkness, another

breathless girl teetering on tall shoes. She is in the vicinity

of 16. Her black hair is cropped short and died red, just

like the cover of Bowie's Aladdin Sane. She is POLEXIA, the

voluptuous one, from Riverside.

POLEXIA:

(the usual greeting)

It's all happening. It's all happening.

ESTRELLA:

Polexia!! Did you tell Sabbath we

were going to be here?

POLEXIA:

I talked to Dick with Stillwater, I

talked with Sabbath. They're all dying

to see us. It's all happening.

PENNY LANE:

This is our journalist friend.

Journalist Friend, meet Estrella Starr,

and Polexia Aphrodisia. And you are --

WILLIAM:

William.

Silent beat. His name lands like a thud.

POLEXIA:

Here comes Sabbath!

ESTRELLA:

Ozzy!!! Tony!!! It's us!!

A long black limo with darkened windows swishes past, beeps

twice. The metal backstage gate rises and the limo rolls

inside. And then silence again. The girls do not discuss

being rebuffed.

ESTRELLA (cont'd)

I think I saw Sapphire in there.

POLEXIA:

(can't hold it in any longer)

Okay. I was with Ian Hunter all night

at Rodney's Last night. Wanna see his

spoo? I saved it in a baggie.

She opens her purse and shows the girls something inside.

William edges away.

ESTRELLA:

(peering into purse)

I'm really happy he's doing so well.

PENNY:

(regarding what's in purse)

Yeah. I know he's such a talented

guy. I mean, look at him. Who deserves

it more?

POLEXIA:

(looking in purse)

Nobody -- he's so sweet.

ESTRELLA:

(with compassion)

Don't you just root for him, you know.

To go that little distance between

good and great?

PENNY:

Wait. That's not his. I would know

his.

A very odd look on his face, William now cranes for a discreet

look. What's in that purse?

BAM -- THE BACKSTAGE DOOR OPENS

Out steps SAPPHIRE, 19, a tall girl with taller platforms. Heavy

eye-makeup. Her accent is Texan, with odd traces of English.

In one hand is a half-drained bottle of champagne. In the other,

a fistful of backstage passes.

SAPPHIRE:

Does anybody remember laugh-tah?

(as they turn)

Come and GET 'EM!

The girls scream and happily head down the ramp to Sapphire.

Penny looks back and grabs William with a well-placed arm hooked

around his. He joins the clacking sea of legs moving down the

ramp. Sapphire slaps passes on the girls. As Scotty (The

Keeper of the Backstage List) watches, Penny now slips William

forward for a pass.

SCOTTY:

Oh no. Not this one --

SAPPHIRE:

(off William)

Who brought Opie?

The kid looks over his shoulder. Who's Opie?

PENNY:

He's with us.

SCOTTY:

(hand blocking William)

He wasn't with you.

SAPPHIRE:

(to Scotty)

Are you going to turn this into a

Thing?

SCOTTY:

All of you can wait outside! Top of

the ramp!

WILLIAM:

I don't want to cause a Thing. I'll

wait.

PENNY:

(privately, to William)

I'll go take care of this.

Sadly, they leave him behind. The thundering arena sound of

the collecting crowd, the p.a. system blasting Yes'

"Roundabout"... purposeful roadies carrying guitar cases...

the glimpse of backstage rock and roll... everything he wants

to be a part of is on the other side of this door. And then

it shuts. He stands alone.

At the top of the ramp, a tour bus unloads. It reads --

STILLWATER TOUR 73. Moving loudly out of the bus is the opening

band. This is Stillwater. Four road-weary band members, and

their road manager. Voices booming.

RUSSELL HAMMOND, 27, presses the buzzer with the nose of his

guitar-case. It's obvious from moment one. This is the star

of the band, the charismatic one. He's tired. They're late.

William recognizes him instantly, as the guitarist stretches.

The buzzer goes unanswered. The kid is invisible to him, as

the others now arrive behind Russell.

Tour/band manager DICK ROSWELL, 27, follows, loudly banging on

the steel door. He has the flaxen-haired look of a former

hippie, but he carries the emblem of a real pro -- the newest

silver Halliburton briefcase covered with backstage passes.

His direction is always - forward.

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