Cadillac Records Page #5

---

That's your car outside?

The cherry-red one out there?

It's the most beautiful thing I've ever seen.

Ain't it? Good taste.

- Sit down, Charles. Have a seat.

- Chuck Berry.

Charles, Charlie, Chuck.

Mortgage payment

and child support killing me.

And I ain't booking the clubs enough.

Len, I was talking to the accountant,

and he been telling me

I'm borrowing against my royalties.

Len, Mud, it's coming. You're gonna miss it.

Yeah. In a minute.

What's going on?

I thought I was just getting paid.

Records ain't selling.

Is that how come you got

a brand-new Cadillac in the driveway?

He bought me that Cadillac.

Me, you and every other motherf***er

cashes a Chess Records check

is riding that man's coattails.

And that ain't good.

Thank you.

In my book, you're still number one.

You, too, baby.

Hey, Dad, you got to see this.

They were locking up fine black women

for sitting on buses,

stringing up our little bitty boys

for whistling at white women.

Not paying any mind at all to old Chuck,

who was reaping up their firstborn

with this thing called rock and roll.

$3,000 in his pocket

and he'd be eating like a hobo.

But he'd do that before

he'd give them crackers one damn dollar.

Chuck'd rather sleep in his own car

than to give his money

to one of them segregated hotels.

The man saved $100,000 the first year.

Now, he didn't drink,

and, no, he didn't gamble.

He only had one particular vice.

- Good evening, ladies.

- You're him, aren't you?

Well, what "him" are you looking for?

You know.

How do you know I know?

I know everything.

Would you mind coming to teach me

what you know?

I'll teach you everything.

Now, Chuck wasn't the only one

looking for female talent.

Len was on a girl-hunt, too.

Here she is.

Glad you could make it.

I can get you a drink...

What, you want me to just do it

right here? Right now?

Well, I am leaving town tomorrow.

Yeah, baby,

you don't have to be shy with him.

I ain't shy, fool.

Don't be looking at me

like I ain't wearing no drawers!

It's just hard to do if you ain't in the mood.

And I ain't in the mood.

She ain't in the mood.

Come on.

I thought you said this broad was good.

I heard

Church bells ring

I heard

A choir singing

I saw my love

Walk down the aisle

On her finger

He placed the ring

He was looking for a woman

that could go head-to-head with his men.

And he found her.

Miss Etta James.

- Hey, Mud.

- You got it, baby.

When do I get you back in here?

You ain't heard? My records ain't selling.

You're always gonna sell, baby.

Cut.

What's going on with sweet baby girl there?

Sweet?

F*** you, Leonard.

What the hell you know about the blues?

I gave you a damn good track.

You want it? You sing it.

Now she want me to sing it. Fine, go home.

Forget it. Everybody go home.

That's a wrap.

What are you smiling about?

My mistake.

You ain't woman enough for that song.

- I'm plenty woman.

- Oh, yeah?

It's about being in love.

You know what that is?

- I know about love.

- Yeah?

Motherf***er ever walk out on you?

F***ing not only did he walk out on you,

he's taking the other broad down the aisle.

You know what that feels like, baby?

Give me another one.

You heard her. She wants another one.

Take 15.

I heard

Church bells ring

I heard

A choir singing

I saw my love

Walk down the aisle

On her finger

He placed a ring

Oh, I saw them

Holding hands

She was standing there

With my man

I heard them promise

Till death do us part

Each word

Was a pain in my heart

Oh, all I could do

All I could do was cry

All I could do

Was cry

I was losing

The man that I loved

And all I could do

Was cry

And now

The wedding is over

The rice, rice has been thrown

Over their heads

For them life

Has just begun

But mine

Is ending

You play a mean game of pool.

Listen, if I brought up bad memories,

I'm sorry.

But it was good for the song.

This album comes out,

that old boyfriend will come running.

I wasn't crying over no boyfriend.

Oh, no?

Girlfriend?

How'd you learn to play pool so good?

My daddy.

- Can I get a whiskey?

- Sure thing, boss.

That's good.

Hard to find time to teach your kids things.

He ain't teach me sh*t. I taught myself.

I don't want to embarrass him

when we meet.

Tell you who's gonna be embarrassed

is your old man.

Because he's gonna meet

a goddamn superstar.

You know?

And what is he?

A nobody. Now,

I don't want to embarrass you,

but let me show you how it's done.

You're batting a thousand on being wrong.

You see that picture over there?

What, Minnesota Fats is your father?

That's the story.

You ought to have him come by the studio.

I ain't never even met that motherf***er.

But when I do,

I want it to be in a fancy restaurant

where everybody wants my picture

and asking me for my autograph.

- That's the dream, huh?

- That's my dream.

It's not a dream.

You're gonna cross over.

- You think?

- Promise.

You gonna promise me

that fancy restaurant, too?

Promise.

The one that's gonna serve the white man

and his colored daughter.

Hey, come on.

You sing the blues.

You don't have to live them.

What the f*** do you know, white boy?

Yeah, you play that hard act real good.

But I see you.

I see you.

Old Len thought his checkbook

can fix anything,

so he bought out the restaurant for Etta.

But there's some things money can't fix.

I can't help you, kid.

Gin. Can I have a bottle of gin?

I need a bottle of gin.

Gin, please. Can I have a bottle of gin?

Gin! Can I get a f***ing bottle of gin?

- Come on. Bottle of gin.

- Right away, sir.

I guess I got to be him to get some gin?

- What'd he say to you?

- Stupid sh*t.

He didn't even ask if he could see me again.

That's his problem.

Why you making it yours?

Here you go, sir.

You wouldn't even begin to know

my problems, baby.

Let me.

My mother was a whore.

And that fat motherf***er just looked me

in my face, and he didn't see himself.

He didn't see his little girl.

You know what he saw?

He saw the cum stains

of all the other men my mother f***ed.

These chanda-f***ing-liers

and these white tablecloths don't mean sh*t!

I ain't gonna ever be good enough for him.

You know they're gonna break this

when I leave, right?

F*** it! I'll do it for you!

Come on, honey. Listen to me.

You can't let that in.

You know, Muddy,

he sings that hurt. He don't live it.

He don't nurse it.

Walter, he carries it around like a baby.

Feeds it on whiskey and smack.

You got to let it go.

I can't.

Oh, no.

No, I'm not having it.

That's my song.

- No, darling.

- No, no, darling.

That's my song.

No, darling. That's the Beach Boys.

That is Sweet Sixteen, note for note.

Note for note. Not one change.

Aside, apart from the lyrics, about the new...

The new craze sweeping the nation

for young white boys and girls, surfing.

I've provided them the soundtrack,

unbeknownst to myself.

- You ready?

- Yes, I'm ready.

I'm very ready to make more songs

for the Beach Boys

Rate this script:3.3 / 3 votes