Basquiat Page #14

TOXIC:

That's ignorant.

BASQUIAT:

That ain't ignorant – that's just stupid.

(beat – to Christine)

Can I get you a bowl of gumbo?

Rammellzee yells after him –

RAMMELLZEE:

This interrogation is not over!

Jean escorts Christine to the kitchen.

Bruno and Andy stand in the crowd.

Nearby are two WOMEN.

WOMAN:

Albert Milo? Ugh! He's just a pressmonger.

That's all these people do.

WOMAN #2

You know, I love Jean's early work. It's

really got something. But this

collaboration with Andy – maybe they

thought it was a joke... I mean – whose

work is it? Jean's or Andy's?

Walking by, Rene responds to this –

RENE:

His early work? He's only twenty-six!

Rene walks over to Jean.

BASQUIAT:

Hey, Rene.

RENE:

Thanks again for not inviting me. I'm only

here on business.

Rene heads back out into the party.

Jean eats gumbo while Christine thumbs through the Times Magazine.

ANGLE ON:

Rene responds to something Andy's been telling him in a low voice.

RENE (CONT'D)

(loudly)

You're asking me? Nigga, please. After the

way you treated me? This is the first time

I've heard from either of you in months! I

had to crash this party! You treated me

like a suede biscuit. Rene don't play

that! I can't get him off drugs! I don't

even talk to him any more!!!

ANDY WARHOL:

(to Bruno)

What's a suede biscuit?

CUT TO:

CHRISTINE:

Looks up from her magazine..

CHRISTINE:

(amused)

Hey, what's this? It says right here

you're Andy's... "lapdog"...

Jean walks away.

He passes through the crowd, making his way to the door.

He exits.

EXT. GREAT JONES ST LOFT – NIGHT

Drugged, upset, Jean leaves the party.

He opens a limo door and looks back at his house. The party

continues.

The limo drives off.

We HOLD on Jean's building.

INT. LIMO – NIGHT

The limo floats through the streets.

Jean stares out the window.

BASQUIAT:

Here... Pull over.

The limo pulls over.

Jean exits.

EXT. STREET – NIGHT

Jean disappears around the corner.

ANGLE ON:

THREE KIDS in the process of prying a door panel with crowbars.

We see that they're removing one of Jean's SAMO pieces from a

wall. We read:

"PAY FOR SOUP

BUILD A FORT:

SET IT ON FIRE"

Jean arrives behind them.

BASQUIAT:

What's up?

KID #1

Mind your own f***in' business.

BASQUIAT:

(recognizing his work)

That's mine.

KID:

That ain't yours, man. Some a**hole named

SAMO did this.

KID#3

He's dead. That's what I heard.

KID #2

He ain't dead yet. He's gonna kill

himself. That's why all those art fags in

Soho are paying more every time we bring

one of these in.

KID #1

Stupid SAMO... Hardly any of this sh*t

left.

The panel is almost pried free without a scratch.

KID #3

This one's damn nice. I say we hang onto

it if he's almost dead.

Jean shoves his way in front with a magic marker and adds a couple

words; now it reads:

"SAMO IS DEAD"

BASQUIAT:

There you go. Now it's worth more.

The kids are outraged, thinking Jean's ruined their find.

They jump on him.

They beat the sh*t out of him.

They're done.

Jean lies curled up on the ground, trying to talk.

KID #2

What's he saying?

BASQUIAT:

I'm SAMO... I'm SAMO...

KID #3

(bending close)

He says he's SAMO.

Kid #1 whacks him in the back once more for good measure.

KID #1

He wish.

DISSOLVE TO:

THE SEA:

It is flat, dead, gray.

Ominous and waiting.

INT. GREAT JONES ST. LOFT – DAY

Washed in sunlight, a large painting leans against the wall, the

words "HAITIAN BASEBALL FACTORIES" scrawled through its center.

Jean lays down, watching TV.

He looks older now, more worn. His face is slightly swollen. His

complexion is discolored.

Shenge covers a triptych with wide brush strokes of yellow paint.

He circles a large, primitive figure of a black man drawn with

magic marker in the center. He is careful to leave the figure

intact.

BASQUIAT:

Paint it out.

SHENGE:

Out?

BASQUIAT:

Yeah... Maybe just his arms.

(Shenge paints out the arms)

Put some Cerulean Blue there.

Jean points to the lower corner.

Shenge picks up the phone, which has been RINGING for some time.

SHENGE:

It's Andy again.

BASQUIAT:

Still not here.

SHENGE:

– In this corner?

BASQUIAT:

(not looking)

Yeah..

Shenge changes the brush and dips it in the can.

SHENGE:

You want me to put it here?

BASQUIAT:

Use your f***ing instinct.

Shenge shrugs and starts to spread the blue. Jean looks at his

work.

BASQUIAT (CONT'D)

Don't try to make art. Just paint like a

housepainter.

A woman's shout can be heard through the open window. Shenge looks

out.

SHENGE:

It's Maria Portos. What should we do?

BASQUIAT:

Why don't you try letting her in, Steve –

I mean Shenge.

SHENGE:

Get up. She won't buy anything if she sees

me working on it!

BASQUIAT:

Wanna bet? If you show too much respect

for people with money, they don't have

respect for you.

MARIA, a raven-haired, sharp-featured beauty in a Chanel suit

jacket, blue jeans, and pearls walks into the room. She's with

ELLEN – younger – a millionaire fake hippie from Texas.

Maria carries a bag with clogs in it – a present for Jean. She

takes them out.

MARIA:

(showing him the clogs)

These reminded me of you, the clogs. I

found them in Amsterdam.

Jean doesn't get up from the floor.

MARIA (CONT'D)

How are you?

BASQUIAT:

Fine.

MARIA:

You remember Ellen?

(looking around)

What are you working on?

Basquiat points at the painting.

ELLEN:

How much is something like that?

Jean raises his hand and pumps five fingers three times in the

air.

MARIA:

Fifteen. Reasonable.

Ellen makes a snotty face.

BASQUIAT:

It's unfinished.

(to Shenge)

How 'bout some blue in the corner?

Shenge gives Jean a stupefied look.

SHENGE:

Blue? Where?

BASQUIAT:

What's wrong with you today?

Shenge is embarrassed by Jean's remark in the company of the two

women.

BASQUIAT (CONT'D)

Don't look at me like that. It hurts my

feelings.

He points. Unsure, Shenge picks up the brush and paints one of the

corners.

Maria browses through a stack of paintings leaning against the

wall.

MARIA:

I love these.

ELLEN:

God... I just can't even care anymore.

Compare this to a mountain or a tree.

Who're y'all trying to kid? That's what I

think. I was just in the Himalayas, and

like – OK – is this important? No. I mean,

compared to the rain forest or something?

These are just narcissistic jokes.

MARIA:

(to Jean)

Who are you selling these through now?

Jean gets to his feet. He dips a long, thin brush into black paint

and nonchalantly crosses out the half figure that Shenge is

carefully surrounding with blue.

BASQUIAT:

Well, that's better.

(to Maria)

You can buy direct from me.

ELLEN:

Look at these – silkscreens? What're you?

Andy Warhol Junior? It's like – not even

handmade anymore.

She's not even worth a response. Jean looks around, numb.

INT. MARY BOONE GALLERY – DAY

Jean enters the gallery. Cleaned up. Healthier. Bruises healing.

He looks like he's been painting.

Mary looks up from her desk, surprised to see Jean.

MARY BOONE:

Jean Michel... Crawling from the wreckage?

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