Lethal Weapon
- R
- Year:
- 1987
- 110 min
- 1,354 Views
FADE IN:
CITY OF ANGELS:
lies spread out beneath us in all its splendor, like a
bargain basement Promised Land.
CAMERA SOARS, DIPS, WINDS its way SLOWLY DOWN, DOWN,
bringing us IN OVER the city as we:
SUPER MAIN TITLES.
TITLES END, as we -
SPIRAL DOWN TOWARD a lush, high-rise apartment complex.
The moon reflected in glass.
CAMERA CONTINUES TO MOVE IN THROUGH billowing curtains,
INTO the inner sanctum of a penthouse apartment, and
here, boys and girls, is where we lose our breath,
because -
spread-eagled on a sumptuous designer sofa lies the
single most beautiful GIRL in the city.
Blonde hair. A satin nightgown that positively glows.
Sam Cooke MUSIC, crooning from five hundred dollar
SPEAKERS.
PASTEL colors. Window walls. New wave furniture tortured
into weird shapes. It looks like robots live here.
On the table next to the sleeping Venus lies an open
bottle of pills ... next to that, a mirror dusted with
cocaine.
She rouses herself to smear some powder on her gums.
As she does, we see from her eyes that she is thoroughly,
completely whacked out of her mind...
She stands, stumbles across the room, pausing to glance
at a photograph on the wall:
Two men. Soldiers. Young, rough-hewn, arms around each
other.
The Girl throws open the glass doors ... steps out onto a
balcony, and there, beneath her, lies all of nighttime
L.A. Panoramic splendor. Her hair flies, her expression.
rapt, as she stands against this sea of technology. She
is beautiful.
On the balcony railing beside her stand three potted
plants.
The Girl sees them, picks one up. Looks over the balcony
railing ... It is ten stories down to the parking lot.
she squints, holds the plant over the edge.
GIRL:
Red car.
Drops the plant. Down it goes, spiralling end over end
-- until, finally ... BAM --! SHATTERS. Dirt flies. A
red Chevy is now minus a WINDSHIELD. The Girl takes
another plant.
GIRL:
Green car.
She drops it. Green Dodge. Ten stories below, BAM
Impact city. Scratch one paint job. Grabs the final
plant and holds it out, saying:
GIRL:
Blue car.
POW. GLASS SHATTERS. Dirt sprays. A blue BMW this
time. The Girl loves this game ... her expression is
slightly crazed. She reaches for another plant -There
aren't any. Her smile fades -- And for a moment,
just a moment, the dullness leaves her eyes and she is
suddenly, incredibly sober. And tears fill her eyes as
she looks over the edge -
GIRL:
Yellow car.
And jumps the railing. Plummets, head over heels like a
rag doll. Hits the yellow car spot on. She lies, dead,
like an extinguished dream. Still beautiful.
CUT TO:
1A EXT. BENEATH THE PIER NIGHT 1A
FOUR TOUGH-LOOKING DOCK WORKERS are camped out under the
pier, warming themselves around a small bonfire, laughing
loudly. Christmas decorations dangle above them from the
pier, and empty beer cans litter the sand around them.
CAMERA PUSHES IN to discover an old collie tied to one of
the pilings. Then we realize that the dog is being tormented
by the dock workers. They flick lighted matches
at him. Shake their beers and spray him in the face.
These guys are not rocket scientists.
The dog cowers, tugging bn the rope. Tries to get away.
All to the great amusement of its tormentors.
One of them turns, laughing -
As a shadowy FIGURE strides calmly up to the fire:
Long hair.
Cigarette dangling from-lower lip.
Shirt-tails hanging loose below the waist.
Nothing threatening in his manner as he plops down beside
the men, smiling.
They are immediately on their guard.
RIGGS (FIGURE)
Happy holidays. Mind if I join
you?
PUNK #1
Yes.
PUNK #2
F*** off.
Riggs smiles at him innocently. Strokes the collie's fur
with one hand.
With the other, he reaches intb a paper sack and produces,
a spanking new bottle of Jack Daniels, possibly the finest
drink mankind has yet produced.
RIGGS:
I need help drinking this. Cool?
The dock workers exchange glances. There seems to be no
harm in this. One of them frowns:
PUNK #1
You a homo?
RIGGS:
Do I look like a homo?
PUNK #1
You got long hair. Homos got long
hair.
PUNK #3
I hate homos. Arrggh.
Riggs shakes his head, laughs.
RIGGS:
Boy, you guys are terrific. You
make me laugh, you just do.
At which point, appropriately enough, Punk #4 shakes a
beer and sprays it in the old collie's face.
Riggs leans forward.
RIGGS:
This your dog? Nice dog.
And then, he proceeds to do a peculiar thing:
He starts to talk to the dog -in
what seems to be the dog's own language.
Very weird, folks...
He coos, snuffles, barks softly, then withdraws,
listening, his ear to the dog's muzzle.
Riggs nods. Frowns.
The others look on, puzzled.
Then Riggs looks at each of the four dock workers.
RIGGS:
Huh-You know what? He says he
doesn't want you to spray beer in
his face. He says he just hates
that.
A pause. Uncomfortable. Then -
PUNK #1
Oh, he does ... ?
(beat)
Well, mister, why don't you ask
him what he likes...?
The others snicker. Riggs simply nods.
RIGGS:
Okay.
And once again, begins to confer with the dog. Listens
intently, piecing together what he is hearing.
RIGGS:
What ... ? You want ... oh. Oh,
hell no, I couldn't do that ...
Nossirree bob, you little nut.
He ruffles the dog's hair.
The men are more puzzled than ever as Riggs turns and
says:
RIGGS:
(chuckling)
Get this:
He wants me to beatthe sh*t out of you guys.
Everything stops. A cloud passes over the assembled
faces and a pin-dropping silence ensues.
Riggs, completely heedless, once again attends to the dog:
RIGGS:
What's that ... ? The one ... in the
middle... 'is a stupid fat duck'...
What ... ?
(listens again)
Oh ... Oh! A 'stupid fat f***!'
Right.
RIGGS:
Boy, this dog is pissed.
The one in the middle grabs Riggs by the collar.
Hoists him to his feet. Gulp.
Stands, staring down at Riggs, whose eyes are completely
neutral, like a snake's.
PUNK #1
Buddy, you're shortening your
life span.
He flicks open a mean-looking switchblade.
Riggs is dead meat.
So why then, does he choose this moment to execute a
Three Stooges' routine, consisting of nose tweak, eye
gouge, and rotating fist that bobs the dock worker on
the head... ?
He's nuts or something ...
Riggs steps back and adopts a neutral fighting stance.
The DOG BARKS. Riggs turns to the dog, but his eyes never
leave his grinning attackers.
RIGGS:
(to the collie)
What's that ... ? You want me to
take the knife away... and break
his elbow... ?
Circling ...
Riggs, watching them, his eyes beginning to dance ...
Breathing slow and even...
RIGGS:
But that would be excruciatingly
painful ...
Something inside Riggs is gearing up ... the others can
perhaps sense it, their smiles falter a bit, they crouch,
combat-ready...
Riggs, eyes blazing ...
Translation
Translate and read this script in other languages:
Select another language:
- - Select -
- 简体中文 (Chinese - Simplified)
- 繁體中文 (Chinese - Traditional)
- Español (Spanish)
- Esperanto (Esperanto)
- 日本語 (Japanese)
- Português (Portuguese)
- Deutsch (German)
- العربية (Arabic)
- Français (French)
- Русский (Russian)
- ಕನ್ನಡ (Kannada)
- 한국어 (Korean)
- עברית (Hebrew)
- Gaeilge (Irish)
- Українська (Ukrainian)
- اردو (Urdu)
- Magyar (Hungarian)
- मानक हिन्दी (Hindi)
- Indonesia (Indonesian)
- Italiano (Italian)
- தமிழ் (Tamil)
- Türkçe (Turkish)
- తెలుగు (Telugu)
- ภาษาไทย (Thai)
- Tiếng Việt (Vietnamese)
- Čeština (Czech)
- Polski (Polish)
- Bahasa Indonesia (Indonesian)
- Românește (Romanian)
- Nederlands (Dutch)
- Ελληνικά (Greek)
- Latinum (Latin)
- Svenska (Swedish)
- Dansk (Danish)
- Suomi (Finnish)
- فارسی (Persian)
- ייִדיש (Yiddish)
- հայերեն (Armenian)
- Norsk (Norwegian)
- English (English)
Citation
Use the citation below to add this screenplay to your bibliography:
Style:MLAChicagoAPA
"Lethal Weapon" Scripts.com. STANDS4 LLC, 2024. Web. 22 Nov. 2024. <https://www.scripts.com/script/lethal_weapon_136>.
Discuss this script with the community:
Report Comment
We're doing our best to make sure our content is useful, accurate and safe.
If by any chance you spot an inappropriate comment while navigating through our website please use this form to let us know, and we'll take care of it shortly.
Attachment
You need to be logged in to favorite.
Log In