Basquiat Page #11

Jean takes a bowl of moo-shoo pork in front of him and dumps it

onto the book. Then he uses a piece of pork to draw a head.

Suddenly, there's a shrill, familiar voice.

RENE:

I'd like a glass of your best champagne,

please?

(reading)

This is an enormously important season in

New York, and to make a false step could

have severe repercussions for years. We

are no longer collecting art, we're buying

individuals.

ANDY WARHOL:

Oh shut up, Rene.

RENE:

Everything's over your head, Andy. Even

Mr. Chow's menu.

(beat – to Jean)

Thanks for not inviting me

He leans over everyone and helps himself to some spears of

asparagus.

ANGLE ON:

Esther Milo, watching.

RENE (CONT'D)

I'm starving. You can't buy advertising

like this. This is the most glamorous

dinner you'll have here this fall. How

about some of that imitation crab?

MR. CHOW

I'm not paying for the drawing with crab.

It's a present to my friends. It's my

birthday.

Jean finishes his drawing – a big beautiful head that fills the

screen.

Rene grabs it from him. He holds it up for everyone to see.

RENE:

Isn't he great? Thanks, Jean.

He rips the page from the book.

RENE (CONT'D)

He owes me one.

Everyone's face drops. Mr. Chow grabs his book. He motions to a

couple WAITERS –

MR. CHOW

You're too much, Rene. Get this guy out of

here.

RENE:

I haven't eaten yet!!!

The waiters grab Rene's arms.

RENE (CONT'D)

Hands off me, you faggots! I'm going. I'm

going...I've kept Diana Vreeland waiting

too long, anyway.

ANDY WARHOL:

Wow... That was a nice drawing, too, Jean.

Maybe you should do another one.

MR. CHOW

(exhausted)

Some other time.

Spontaneously, David McDermott climbs onto the tabletop downstairs

and sings "Paris Je T'aime."

As he belts it out in a theatrical falsetto, he glides over

glasses and plates, executing a leap to another table in mid-song.

The restaurant staff and OTHER DINNER GUESTS watch, agape.

CLOSE UP – DAVID'S SHOES.

As David dances, Annina walks over to the table, greeting people

and saying goodnight.

ANNINA NOSEI:

(to Jean)

It's great that people are interested, but

if anyone's going to buy anything, I'll

handle it for you. Everything goes through

the gallery, even if they come to your

studio.

BASQUIAT:

Sure.

Annina leaves.

Jean leans back in his chair, taking in this splendid new world.

He pulls out a joint, lights up, inhales with pleasure, closes his

eyes and smiles.

SUPER OVER HIS FACE: "FOUR YEARS LATER"

SCREEN GOES BLACK

INTERVIEWER (O.S.)

... had twenty-three one man shows, been

in forty three group shows from Zurich to

Tokyo..

FADE UP:

INT. GREAT JONES STREET LOFT – DAY

Note:
The following scene is shot in documentary style.

INTERVIEWER (O.S, CONT'D)

... had over fifty articles written about

you, switched galleries – how many times?

– DJ'd in the hottest clubs –

Jean looks out the window, yawns and rubs his eyes. He now sports

dreadlocks bundled into groups of spikes sticking out of his head.

He wears a wrinkled Wesleyan College T-shirt, paint-splattered

jeans, and no shoes; just out of bed, it would seem.

An INTERVIEWER – a balding Brit with all the humor of a bank clerk

– tries to buddy up with Jean on camera.

INTERVIEWER (CONT'D)

... one of the youngest artists ever to be

included in the Whitney Biennial, also

produced a rap record. It's said you're

quite the ladies man – even dated Madonna

for a couple months!!!

(takes a breath)

All at the ripe old age of 24. One might

ask:
is there anything left for Jean

Michel Basquiat to do?

Jean and the interviewer face each other in front of one of Jean's

paintings. Jean stares at the interviewer, incredulous.

INTERVIEWER (CONT'D)

What is it that gets you out of bed in the

morning?

(nervous laugh)

BASQUIAT:

I hate this. Turn that off.

Jean walks off camera and disappears into his bedroom.

Shenge (the former limo driver, now working as Jean's assistant)

assembles stretchers.

SUPER:
"GREAT JONES STREET, 1985"

A CAMERA CREW waits in the room. Jean returns.

INTERVIEWER:

We're running a little late.

He signals to the crew that he's beginning.

INTERVIEWER (CONT'D)

(to crew)

Ready?

He points to some scribbled words on the canvas.

INTERVIEWER (CONT'D)

... Can you... decipher this for us?

BASQUIAT:

Decipher?

INTERVIEWER:

Yes. What do they... stand for?

BASQUIAT:

They're just words.

INTERVIEWER:

Yes, I understand – but where do you take

them from?

BASQUIAT:

Where? Do you ask Miles where he got that

note from? Where do you take your words

from?

(beat)

Everywhere.

INTERVIEWER:

(pointing to a detail)

What are they?

BASQUIAT:

(smiling mischievously)

Leeches. A long list of leeches.

(looking at some frames

Shenge's working on)

It looks good like that.

INTERVIEWER:

Hmmm. And 'Parasites.'

(beat)

You seem to be a Primal Expressionist.

BASQUIAT:

You mean like an ape?

He grabs a huge double mouthful of French Fries and washes them

down with champagne..

BASQUIAT (CONT'D)

(chewing, spilling)

A primate?

INTERVIEWER:

Well, you said that.

(beat – looks at notes)

You've got a lot of references from

Leonardo da Vinci, don't you?

BASQUIAT:

Oh, that's a "Leonardo's Greatest Hits"

painting. You like it?

INTERVIEWER:

Yes, but as a black painter –

BASQUIAT:

I use a lot of colors – not only black.

INTERVIEWER:

What?

BASQUIAT:

I'm not black.

INTERVIEWER:

You're not?

BASQUIAT:

Not what?

INTERVIEWER:

Not black.

BASQUIAT:

No, I'm Haitian-Puerto Rican.

The BUZZER sounds. He signals for Steve not to answer the door.

INTERVIEWER:

Yes, yes... Let's talk about that.... your

roots... Your father is from Haiti, isn't

he?

BASQUIAT:

(growing weary)

Yup.

INTERVIEWER:

Hmmmm. Interesting. And when you grew up

were there any primitives hanging in your

home?

BASQUIAT:

We don't hang them at home, y'know – just

in the streets..

INTERVIEWER:

I see..

(beat)

And... How do you respond to being called

– hmmm...

(peruses some notes)

– yes, "the pickaninny of the art world."

BASQUIAT:

(smiles – hurt, stunned)

Who said that?

INTERVIEWER:

Why, that's from Time Magazine.

BASQUIAT:

No, he said I was the Eddie Murphy of the

art world. He said the Eddie Murphy.

INTERVIEWER:

Is it true that your mother resides in a

mental institution?

Jean walks off camera like he just received a punch in the

stomach.

The filming of the interview becomes increasingly erratic.

INTERVIEWER (CONT'D)

Let me... just... open something up here.

You come from a nice, middle class,

respectable home. Your father is an

accountant. Why did you at one time live

in a cardboard box in Tompkins Square?

Jean walks back into frame.

INTERVIEWER (CONT'D)

Or rather, do you think you're being

exploited or are you yourself exploiting

the white image of the black artist from

the ghetto?

BASQUIAT:

Are those the only two possibilities?

(cramming a French Fry into

his mouth)

You wanna French fry?

INTERVIEWER:

OK. One last thing. Is there any anger in

you? Any anger in your work?

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