Death At A Funeral Page #8

Synopsis: Aaron's father's funeral is today at the family home, and everything goes wrong: the funeral home delivers the wrong body; a cousin gives her fiancé a Valium from her brother's apartment, not knowing her brother is dealing drugs - it's LSD and the fiancé arrives at the funeral wildly stoned; Aaron's younger brother, Ryan, a successful writer, flies in from New York broke but arrogant; one uncle is angry over his daughter's choice of boyfriends, and the other is cranky and coarse. Add an ovulating wife, a jealous ex-boyfriend, and a short stranger who wants a word with Aaron - what could he want? Would another death solve Aaron's problems? And what about the eulogy?
Genre: Comedy
Director(s): Neil LaBute
Production: Sony Pictures
  6 nominations.
 
IMDB:
5.7
Metacritic:
51
Rotten Tomatoes:
42%
R
Year:
2010
92 min
$16,000,000
Website
1,334 Views


- Not shaking her hasn't worked, has it?

- Yeah, okay.

- You shake her, and you kiss her.

I just don't know if that'll go over so well.

- Man.

- What's up?

I gotta take a sh*t.

Man, just when I had my potato...

Hey, hey, hey, Norman! I gotta take a crap!

- Look at his eyes. That doesn't look normal.

- He looks like a zombie.

Hello?

- Hello?

- Hello.

- I need the toilet, open up!

- Go deal with him.

Open the door.

- Can't you use the one upstairs?

- I'm in a wheelchair, you f***ing idiot!

How am I supposed

to get up the goddamn stairs?

- What are we gonna do?

- I don't know.

- Open the f***ing door!

- Let's put him behind the couch.

Sh*t. Man, I need the toilet. Open up.

Norman!

- Open the goddamn door!

- Just a minute. I'm trying to find the key.

I need the toilet, you fat bastard.

- Sorry, sorry.

- I'm just going across the room

to get the key, Uncle Russell.

So you could use the bathroom,

'cause I know you gotta doo-doo.

Now open the f***ing door!

Sh*t! Damn it.

What the hell is going on here?

Uncle Russell.

Get your ass out here.

Uncle Russell nothing, man. Sh*t.

Come on, Aaron, think.

- I'm thinking, I'm thinking.

- Well, you know what?

- Stop thinking and do something.

- Why do I gotta do something?

- You the one that tied him up.

- Well, somebody had to look out for Mama.

I been looking out for Mom

since you got your book deal,

you pompous piece of sh*t.

You just can't get over it, can you?

You burning with jealousy, all because I left

and did what you always wanted to do?

I couldn't just leave my family.

I got Mom, I got Dad, I got a wife.

I got all sorts of responsibilities.

Don't put it off on responsibility.

You spent three years on a novel,

and you won't let anybody read it.

What you gonna do? Wait until you're dead?

What you think you're gonna be,

the Tupac of books? Makaveli?

At least I'm not some hack writing

a bunch of crap, Mr Mama's Secret.

The secret is it sucks.

Mr Black Hurt, it hurts to read that sh*t.

Mr No Ink. Mr Blank Page.

Ain't nothing there. Ain't nothing there.

At least my sh*t gets published.

That's what it's about,

just getting published?

- Don't put your hand on me, Aaron.

- I'll put my hand on you.

- Don't touch me, man.

- I'll put my hand upside you.

- Is that what you...

- I'm a hands-on motherf***er.

What you wanna do, punch me?

Punch me in the face?

No. Why would I do that

when I could do this?

- Here, look. How does that feel?

- My ball. My ball.

I'm telling Mom.

- I'm telling Mom.

- No, no.

Don't you tell Mama! Don't you tell Mama!

- Aaron, you wrong.

- I got your black hurt.

- I got your...

- Aaron.

- Go! Not now!

- What is going on?

- Get a brick or something.

- Why are you acting like this?

- Get off me. Tell her.

- Tell me what?

- What?

- Come here.

Remember the guy with the leather jacket?

Of course, yeah, your father's friend.

Okay, I don't know how to tell you this,

but it looks like him and Dad were...

Were being intimate.

- They were having sex, Michelle.

- No.

- Yeah.

- No. With him? Are you sure?

- I mean, maybe he's here making the...

- We're sure.

And what makes things worse

- is now this guy wants $30,000.

- $30,000?

Or else he's gonna start showing pictures

of them doing stuff.

- Stuff? Like what kind of stuff?

- Sex stuff.

Oh, my!

- Okay.

- Quickly!

- I got a goddamn torpedo coming down.

- Wait a minute!

Get my pants.

Get my... Take my pants down!

- You do that by yourself!

- No. How can I? I'm incapable!

I'm goddamn handicapped!

My drawers, my drawers.

- Don't leave me here...

- No, who calls them drawers?

My drawers! My drawers! Come on!

Am I there? Come on. Sh*t.

Wait a minute.

- That's the snake in my mouth.

- Wait a minute! Wait a minute!

- No! No! My hand is stuck!

- How you get your hand...

- I love these padded seats.

- No! No, my hand is stuck!

No, Uncle Russell! Please!

Please come off. Please come off, man.

How does something like that happen?

Oh, my...

Norman. Norman!

Jeff, please, get me a towel. Please.

- What?

- You missed a spot.

No! No! No! Please, God. No!

- Norman. Norman, calm down. Calm down.

- No! No!

I think I got some of it in my mouth.

Norman! Pull yourself together!

Would you rather be shitty-mouthed

or get caught? Think.

You right, you right.

I'm gonna get myself together.

Everything is copastetic. I'm gonna forget

about the poop in my mouth.

- I'm just gonna hold my breath for a second.

- It never was there, never was there.

- Sh*t.

- Oh, no.

How the... How the... How the f*** did he...

- Check him.

- Hey, hey, hey. Hey, buddy?

Hey. Are you okay, man?

Oh, sh*t.

- Hey, buddy.

- Check him.

- You okay?

- Wake up. Come on, wake up, little buddy.

- What's his name?

- I don't know.

- Larry, try Larry.

- Larry?

Shake him.

- Hey, hey, Larry?

- Come on.

- Yo, Larry?

- Maybe it's not Larry.

Try another one. Bert, Ernie, I don't know,

Big Bird, whatever.

I'm gonna check to see if he's breathing,

'cause that's what people

do when they're alive, right?

I'm gonna check to make sure he's

breathing, 'cause he's gotta be breathing.

Lord Jesus, please let him be breathing.

He's not breathing.

- Sh*t.

- What?

He's dead.

We're just gonna give this

guy half the money we saved.

- It's not quite that simple.

- Well, why not?

Aaron refused to pay.

- Well, how come you couldn't pay, Ryan?

- That's not the point.

Besides, the only reason

Aaron tore up the cheque

is because little man was talking sh*t

about his novel.

- Hey, hey, hey, hey, no.

- Wait. What?

Your novel?

You won't let me read your novel,

but you let that guy read your novel?

- I didn't let him.

- Really?

Really, Aaron? Really?

Thanks a lot.

Let her go. She'll get over it.

Hey. At least that white guy finally got

what he deserved.

Let me get this straight.

Our father was having gay sex

with a guy that could fit in his pocket,

and you're mad 'cause he's white?

I don't give a f*** 'cause...

Leave me be. I'm grieving.

Grieving.

Hey, hi.

What the f*** is he doing now?

Norman. Why are you grinning

like Louis Armstrong?

Aaron, Ryan,

could you please come to the study?

Smells like sh*t.

Excuse me.

What? Wait a minute, wait a minute.

Somebody call an ambulance.

Get an... Get an ambulance.

It's... It's... There's no point.

What do you mean, there's no point?

I mean, look at him, Aaron. He's dead.

You mean, like dead dead?

- Is there any other kind of dead, Aaron?

- What did y'all do to him?

- We didn't do nothing.

- Well, you must've done something.

When we left, he was alive,

and I was expecting to find him that way

when I got back.

He got in a fight with the table

and the table won.

- This is really bad.

- Yeah.

- Guys, what are we gonna do?

- About 25 to life.

I think I have somewhere else to be

right now.

Whoa, whoa, whoa, whoa.

Ryan, I can't go to jail. I'm not jail type.

You know how fast a rash spreads

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Dean Craig

Dean Craig (born October 25, 1974) is an English screenwriter and film director. In addition to his film work, Craig wrote the BBC television series Off The Hook. more…

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