Interview Page #4

Synopsis: Everyone wants a piece of a celebrity. Pierre is a political reporter, assigned to write a fluff piece on Katya, a blond who acts in slasher movies and a Fox show about single girls in the city. The interview, at a restaurant, goes badly: she's late, he's unprepared and rude. After leaving, he bangs his head in a fender bender and she takes him to her loft to clean the wound. Lubricated by alcohol and competitive natures, the interview resumes. She takes phone calls from her fiancé, Pierre reads her diary on her computer. They discuss wounds, he expresses concern, father-daughter feelings arise. Out come camcorders to tape their darkest secrets. Is friendship or more in the offing?
Genre: Drama
Director(s): Steve Buscemi
Production: Sony Classics
  1 win & 3 nominations.
 
IMDB:
6.8
Metacritic:
64
Rotten Tomatoes:
57%
R
Year:
2007
84 min
$252,499
Website
213 Views


That's the whore.

In front of a bombed out market

with some little kids.

In fact it made it into our magazine,

and I wrote the accompanying story.

We used to do that sometimes.

Just pretend I'm not here.

Well, long story short...

Marica was captured by some

soldiers led by Olek Maholevec.

And Olek raped her.

Then he gives her to his men.

And they rape her.

Then do you know what they did?

They ripped open her belly.

And they tore out the fetus.

And they put that in a pot.

And sent it to my brother.

After they healed her up...

I thought you said

this was gonna be short.

Olek said to her,

'You can go kill your boyfriend.'

'And if you don't, we will.

But first we'll kill your whole family.'

'And then you.'

So, they gave her a grenade.

And one night she

shows up at the hotel bar.

And she pulls the pin.

Six dead including two children.

Well, there was nothing

left of poor Marica.

Except a piece of her thigh.

But do you know what?

I really don't remember if

she was wearing fishnets or not.

I'm sorry.

I'm sorry that I hurt you.

I was indeed acting like

a spoiled brat.

I should have

poked out your eyes.

Feel like dessert?

No thanks.

I have fetus and syrup.

You were unbelievable.

Do you know that?

I have a headache.

Do you mind if I lie down?

Well, not only is that the first

real question you've asked me.

It's also the best that

I have ever had from a journalist.

Please, lie on my sofa.

Do you have any Tylenol?

It's another good question.

I'm afraid that I do have some Tylenol.

But no arsenic.

You know, that would get rid of

your headache a lot faster.

Thank you.

Do you know what?

Maybe journalism is not for me.

Maybe I am just a big fat failure.

Hey, I never said you were a failure.

What happened to her family?

Marica? I don't know.

And your brother?

One suicide attempt after another.

Why does he keep failing?

I think just to torture me.

Do you realize

that you're unpleasant?

I'm sorry.

I forgot to call you back.

Did you watch?

No.

You were amazing.

I was terrible.

I don't love Evan.

Sometimes, I think I'm just using him

to keep the darkness at bay.

Yes, he's handsome.

But when he wants to make love, I cringe.

I don't know why, I can't stand

the thought of him inside me.

I should break it off.

But I'm a coward.

Death is all around me.

Around me and in me.

I'm googling you.

Great stuff.

I did an interview for Vogue last year.

There's some good stuff in that

if you want to use it.

Thank you.

I'm back.

Nice.

Oh, don't look at those.

Why not?

I look like a slut.

Yeah.

You know you are really starting

to get on my nerves, Pierre.

Well, that's what I do. You know?

So.

Tell me about your boyfriend.

You know I'm really tired.

Well, I can really use

some more time with you.

I mean now I feel like

I'm just getting started.

Haven't you got enough already?

Just a few more minutes.

Okay, you.

Follow me.

You want some?

No thanks.

Ah, don't look so disappointed.

You'll make me cry again.

You know what?

I'm pretty tired.

Maybe I should go.

Well, now I'm sure you

have plenty to write about.

Don't worry.

I won't write about this.

Well, then have some.

So I know I can trust you.

Is that coke?

It's not heroin, is it?

Yeah. Okay.

This is stupid.

You know what? Take my very

expensive bottle of Scotch with you.

If there's anything left.

F*** you.

Why are you such a fuckface?

Well, certain people just

bring it out of me.

What are you...?

Jesus. Yes, it's really funny.

Yeah.

I try to look very stupid to you.

No. It's stupid of me.

Stupid of me.

Watch my glasses.

You know, you gotta learn to relax.

I'm completely relaxed.

Are you bleeding again?

Do you need me

to get you a damn towel?

I'm fine.

Hey, Pierre.

I'm not tired anymore.

Do you mind

if I use your bathroom?

Sure.

Oh, that's just the bath.

Toilet's next door.

Death is all around me.

Around me and in me.

In my chest.

In my gut.

In my eyes.

Everything I look at seems black.

Over here.

Well, now that looks relaxing.

Oh, it is.

How is your head?

I live.

You're really getting

beat up today, huh?

Well.

It's an occupational hazard.

Will you do something

for me, Pierre?

I'll try.

Write down your number.

And I will call you.

And we'll finish this up tomorrow.

Please.

Try to be a little prepared. Okay?

You got it.

That's nice, isn't it?

What?

The music.

Can't you hear it?

Do you like it?

Not really.

Will you put this out

for me please, Pierre?

Yes, your highness.

I'm not that high.

Look.

I'm sorry if it seemed like

I was judging you.

In there.

Just surprised me. That's all.

Oh, that shouldn't hap.

Everybody knows

that I'm a crack whore.

I have been with all kinds of whores

all over the world.

And you my dear are

no crack whore.

You say the sweetest things to me

sometimes. Do you know that?

I do, don't I?

I must like you or something.

Well of course you do.

I drive men crazy.

Boys too. But mostly men.

You know, just the other day

my acting teacher tried to hit on me.

And it was really disgusting, Pierre.

Because he's like your age.

And I had so much

respect for him. You know?

Who is this?

He is the best.

And everybody goes to him.

And...

He tells you how to read your lines?

Oh, we do exercises. You know.

Character study and...

Sense memory.

I videotape my rehearsals.

He critiques them.

All that crap.

Watch out Meryl Streep!

Take it easy pap.

I am not your pap.

You just look like him sometimes.

That's all.

Your father?

Yes.

Well, give him my regards.

I will.

He's dead.

So is my daughter.

I thought you said

you didn't have any kids.

Well, I don't anymore.

How did she die?

Heroin overdose.

Well, I was off somewhere

in the Middle East.

And what about your dad?

Heart attack at fifty.

I never met him.

I've seen pictures, though. He was very

handsome in an odd sort of way.

But a real a**hole.

So I'm told.

He had no interest in me at all.

And there's your scar.

Well played, Dr. Freud.

No more music.

They must have gone to bed.

And what about us?

I didn't know there was an us.

You're right.

There's not, because...

You hate me. Remember?

And yet you kissed me.

You kissed me.

No. Why would I do that?

I'm your father.

You're weird.

And you are my daughter.

I'm not.

That's right.

She's dead.

You must be tired.

Of your boyfriend.

Excuse me?

Is that why you kissed me?

Because I'm tired of him?

Well.

Or sick of him, actually.

I mean you don't love

him anymore.

You know what I'm gonna tell you,

Mr. Roving Reporter?

We're in love.

And we're getting married.

That's a bad idea.

Why would you marry

someone you didn't love?

And there's your big scoop!

Jesus, you're good.

Because nobody in the entire world

even knows we're engaged.

Except, you know, for people who read a

newspaper or a magazine. You dumb f***!

Hey. You know what?

Come here.

Where are you going?

Katya?

Is that him?

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Theodor Holman

Theodor Holman (born 9 January 1953 in Amsterdam) is a Dutch journalist, presenter, and writer of Indo descent. He studied Dutch language and History at the University of Amsterdam. He was editor of the satirical student newspaper Propria Cures.A play was premiered in Amsterdam, on 22 March. The play Breivik meets Wilders (Dutch: Breivik ontmoet Wilders) depicts a fictional meeting between Anders Behring Breivik and controversial Dutch lawmaker Geert Wilders at London's Heathrow airport in March 2010. The play, running at Amsterdam's De Balie theatre is written by playwright Theodor Holman who one week ahead of the premiere said "I feel a kinship with Anders Breivik." Other plays are currently under development in Sweden and the UK. more…

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Submitted on August 05, 2018

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