Pig Hunt Page #3

Synopsis: When John takes his San Francisco friends to his deceased uncle's remote ranch to hunt wild pigs, it seems like a typical guys weekend with guns - despite the presence of John's sexy girlfriend Brooks. But as John and his crew trek deeper into the forest, they begin tracking the awful truth about his uncle's demise and the legend of The Ripper -- a murderous three-thousand-pound black boar! Their pursuit leads them through fields of marijuana and into the muddy landscape of Big Wallow, involving high-powered weaponry, the violent and unpredictable Tibbs Brothers, massacred emus, a machete-toting Hippie Stranger, vengeful rednecks, and throat-slitting Cult Girls who grow dope by day and worship a Giant Killer Pig by night. By the time the pig hunt is done, no one is innocent - or unscathed. Not for the faint of heart, PIG HUNT is a darkly comic horror film that combines the best of DELIVERANCE, JAWS, and DINER, but remains uniquely Nor-Cal in its tone and scope. It is cinematic punkabil
Director(s): James Isaac
Production: Phase 4 Films
  6 wins & 11 nominations.
 
IMDB:
4.8
R
Year:
2008
99 min
Website
47 Views


till we see something.

Can I squeeze off

a few rounds?

[Scoffs] You're

not usin' my gun.

I wouldn't want to. Who knows

if the sight's set right?

Do you mind?

[Chuckles] You can pull

my trigger any time.

Savage 308.

Cowboy lever action.

[Sniffs]

Holds five rounds.

[Sniffs]

- [Snickers]

- That's luck.

[Laughing]

Calamity Jane!

Whoo!

[Sighs] Where'd you

learn how to shoot?

You're not the only one

with an uncle.

[Footsteps]

I just saw some strange sh*t. Three

huge, giant, half-eaten birds.

- Like a turkey vulture?

- Like a f***ing ostrich.

- Was it kinda goony lookin'?

- Goony looking?

I don't know. He was

torn into tartare.

Emus.

Emus? Hippies were

raisin' 'em for meat.

They found out there's

more money in marijuana.

I saw something else too. That

hippie freak from the gas station.

- Where?

- By the dead birds.

Sure that ain't

somethin' else talkin'?

- What would he be doing out here?

- What would tear apart an emu?

They were right here.

Mountain lions

will carry off their prey.

Three at once? Them emus

are as fast as cheetahs.

Looks like

they were tied up.

Mountain lions?

[John] There's bears

around here too.

There's a lot of crazy

sh*t in these woods.

[Wayne] This is like the

Bataan Death March.

[Ben] My shoulder's

totally chafed.

How you holdin' up?

Fine.

Nature's StairMaster.

Some say the best part

of hunting is hiking.

The best part of hunting is gettin'

back in the car and goin' home.

Hey! I found

some fresh scat.

[Quincy]

What is it?

It's your dog's.

It's Wolfgang's puck.

Wind's all over

the place.

Pigs'll smell us if they're

closing on Big Wallow now.

That storm's gonna push

the wind straight at us.

He's right. We could hit the wallow.

The hogs won't catch our scent.

[Ben]

So what are we gonna do?

Wait for the storm.

[Wind Whistling]

[Thunder Rumbling]

Wear this.

I owed ya for them beers.

[Chuckles] You look

like a homeless person.

You look like Rambo's

personal f*** b*tch.

Can I get a swig of that?

I don't think drinking's

gonna help your aim.

I thought you said you used

to drink with your uncle.

I said my uncle used to drink.

No more than any

other hog hunter.

- Except it killed him.

- It wasn't the whiskey that killed him.

It was the Ripper.

That giant hog the store

owner was talking about?

My uncle went on a bender,

walked out into the woods...

and shot himself.

No man intent on killin'

himself would use a bow...

unless he had to.

- And he was being eaten alive.

- That's trailer trash bullshit.

[Clinking] That ain't exactly

a nice thing to say.

You got Ricky

all riled up.

My uncle drank

a quart of whiskey a day.

Huntin' for weeks on end.

Still fightin'.

- How would you know? You never visited.

- Because I know.

There's no such thing as a Ripper.

Or Hogzilla.

Or whatever else the

f*** you wanna call it.

You callin' me ignorant?

I ain't callin' you anything.

[Thunderclap]

Let's go kill ourselves

a legend.

Quit playin'

with your gun.

I'm just checking it.

You know, that's what

Pee-wee Herman said.

Your I.Q. should be bigger than

the caliber of your gun, Ben.

[Thunder Rumbling]

I don't like this.

I do.

Yeah? You didn't see

those dead birds.

Did you cry when

your goldfish died too, Q-tip?

Oh, go ahead and laugh.

What were those ropes?

That wasn't a mountain lion.

What do you know

about mountain lions?

I know the puma,

the cougar, the panther,

felis concolor.

But you never hunted.

Yeah? Well, I've spent hours

watching the Nature Channel...

while shelling fava beans.

So what?

Whatever killed those birds is a better

hunter than either one of you two,

and he had help.

Look. If it flies, it dies.

Oh, yeah.

Emus don't fly, idiot.

Not dead ones.

Shh!

Big Wallow's on the other side.

Pigs can hardly

see anything at all,

but they got a great sense

of smell and good hearing.

Why are they

wearing cammo?

[Mouthing Words]

Oh, whoops.

I didn't see you.

- Q-dick.

- Elmer Fudd.

Stay close.

I wish I had a gun.

[Hisses]

We'll flush the perimeter.

Sometimes hogs lay low

in brush and tall grass.

[Twigs Snapping]

- [Gunshot]

- [Wings Flapping]

[Laughing]

[John]

Partridge.

Them's good eatin'.

[Woman] Oh, God!

[Sobbing]

[Woman #2 Screaming]

Whoa.

Save it for the hogs.

[Wayne] Or maybe this

place is hunted out.

We've never had problems

with poachers...

present company excepted.

Since your uncle died

no one's been up here.

- [Ben] Including pigs?

- Hogs are here.

Pigs did that?

They rub up against them

scratching their backs.

All right, then what did that?

The Ripper.

No hog's that tall.

Your uncle said

he saw rubbings like that.

John, I wanna go home.

Me too.

Start walking then.

What the hell is he doin'?

It's called

a "California hook. "

If he gets in close,

I wanna see

that big pig bleed.

[Spits]

Like I said,

kill guns are for pussies.

Now, what's he got?

A bird call?

Makes the sound

of a piglet in distress.

Any boars in the area

will come charging.

- F***in'- A.

- Dig in. I'm callin' that sucker home.

- What are we supposed to do?

- Stay behind me.

And hold on

to that f***in' dog.

- I want a gun.

- Jiggidy jog.

[Squealing]

[Pig Snorting]

[Squealing]

- [Wolfgang Barking]

- I definitely want a f***ing gun.

[Squealing Continues]

[Snorting]

[Squealing Continues]

[Yelling]

My knee!

- [Wayne Groaning]

- [Barking]

Wolfgang!

[Wayne]

My knee!

[Quincy]

Wolfgang!

- [Moans]

- [Grunting]

- [Screaming]

- [Pigs Squealing]

[Wayne Groaning Loudly]

[Grunting]

You made me do it.

- [Pig Squealing]

- [Groaning]

- [Quincy] Wolfgang!

- Are you all right?

- It took off my f***ing knee!

- We've gotta stop the bleeding.

[Screams]

[Groaning]

Oh, kill it. Kill it!

[Grunting]

[Crying]

Your head...

on my wall.

[Squealing]

Better than aspirin.

[Quincy]

Wolfie! Wolfgang!

Let's rest here for a few minutes,

and then we'll get back to camp.

[Quincy] Here, boy! I'm

going to look for him.

[John] Don't go too far. Here.

Take this.

I thought you was a cook.

You must have cut meat.

[Coughs]

Meat. Not dead animals.

You'd do good

to find that dog.

He's got more hunter in him

than I gave him credit for.

[Sniffs]

[Grunts]

It ain't got no armor.

What do you mean?

It should be an armor plate

covering his shoulders.

Cartilage,

sometimes an inch thick.

Some collect shrapnel,

like a bulletproof vest.

Like that one

I just popped over there?

It didn't even leave

no blood trail.

I've had bullets bounce off hogs

when I wasn't close enough.

- You need a big bullet.

- So why doesn't this one have armor?

Except for its tusks

and its size,

this looks

like a piglet.

Wolfgang!

Here, boy!

[Rustling]

Wolfie, is that you?

Hey, Brooks. You got a

camera on your cell phone?

Take my picture.

F*** you.

Hey. You wanna see how this is done?

Get in close.

I wouldn't.

[Groans]

[Groans]

That's so foul.

You better get used to it. You

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Robert Mailer Anderson

Robert Mailer Anderson (born 1968) is an American novelist, screenwriter, playwright and philanthropist. He is the author of the novel Boonville, which takes place in the Northern California town of Boonville, and the 2016 play The Death of Teddy Ballgame. Anderson is a three-time San Francisco Library Laureate and in 2016 he was presented the San Francisco Arts Medallion for his outstanding leadership in the arts. more…

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Submitted on August 05, 2018

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