Take Down

---

- Hey, there, man.

- How you doin'?

- Good.

- Good man.

- Hey, Kyle.

- What's up, man?

Hey, Kyle. You look sharp.

Who goes to a party

to listen to their own music?

Sorry?

I said, who comes to a party

to listen to their own music?

I think my music is better.

You know, you, er...

You keep knocking back the vodka like that,

you won't be able to hear a thing.

Trust me,

I can't get wasted enough tonight.

Why don't I help you along with that?

So, this is my last weekend

of freedom for, like, three months.

Really?

- Why's that?

- Mm... my mother is punishing me.

For what?

For stabbing my stepfather.

Yeah, right.

What the f***?

You're way too easy.

Who says that? You're f***ing crazy.

Sorry to disappoint, but...

I'm actually pretty sane.

Unlike my mother, who went and married

the first random stranger she met

after my father passed away,

and put him in charge.

Anyway...

I'm Amy, by the way.

Amy... well, I'm Kyle.

Kyle Hartmann.

Wanna get out of here?

Sure.

Hey... where are you?

About to head to Nassau juvie.

Don't worry.

I've taken care of everything.

Cost you a hundred grand,

but the DUI never happened.

- What about the girl?

- Blood test says she was higher than ever.

Her parents don't want the publicity

any more than we do. She'll be fine.

Bruised but not broken.

Never have kids, Marcos.

Listen, the S.E.C. meeting's

been pushed till noon.

They want to go over the merger

detail one more time.

Let 'em. They won't find anything

they didn't find the last four times.

Don't worry. It'll be approved. All you need

to do is close the finance with Westcom.

I appreciate you taking care of this.

Hey, that's what you pay me for.

You focus on closing that deal.

I've got Kyle under control.

What took you so long?

We thought you needed a time-out.

Seven f***ing days...

Have you seen the people in this place?

You know what could've happened to me?

You're lucky I know the judge, or we would've

had plenty of time to see how that played out.

Where's my dad?

- - Up to here.

It was an accident, alright? Jesus.

A dog ran out.

Blood alcohol says you saw

three dogs and a pink elephant.

Where's my phone?

- You don't need it where you're going.

- What's that supposed to mean?

It means your father is sick

and tired of cleaning up after you.

He's giving you one last chance.

You screw this up, he is cutting you

off forever. Legally disowning you.

That's bullshit.

I got the papers all drawn up.

You wanna see? Hey. You want him?

Yeah.

Hello.

Did you really leave

that girl there to die?

It wasn't like that.

So, you're a coward now?

- Dad, I can... I can explain.

- I'm done listening to your explanations.

You do whatever Marcos tells you

or you're out on your own.

- I'll just go and stay with mom.

- Your mother's alimony runs out next year.

Do you really think

she can support your lifestyle?

This is your last

of a million last chances, Kyle.

Don't waste it.

Dad...

Was this his idea or yours?

Let's just say it was a meeting of minds.

You know what you are, Marcos?

You're a lapdog.

Someone to do his bidding, and when he's

done with you, he'll throw your ass out

like he does with everyone

he's finished with.

This is very simple, Kyle.

Get in the car or go back to jail.

The choice is yours.

Makes no difference to me either way.

Welcome to West Soay, Mr. Hartmann.

I'm Mr. Close. Course principal.

This is Mr. Maxwell.

Outdoor survival instructor.

I don't need your instructions.

I can take care of myself.

Where you come from, maybe that's true,

but out here, with that attitude,

you could probably end up dead.

You're in a different world now, Hartmann.

There will be consequences

for every choice you make.

Rule one, no lying.

Rule two, respect

for fellow students and faculty.

Rule three, no sex.

Rule four, no fighting. Rule five,

absolute punctuality at all times.

I repeat rule three, no sex.

The course you're about

to begin, Mr. Hartmann,

has been designed to give people like you,

the spoiled, overprivileged

offspring of the super-rich,

one last chance to make

something of themselves.

Now, this island will be your home

for the next three months.

I would suggest you follow its rules

and regulations without question.

Or suffer its punishments.

Mr. Herrick... I'm assigning Mr. Hartmann

to you, here, for orientation.

Make sure he knows the drill.

So, what's with all the security guards?

Is this a pow camp or what?

Use your head, man. We're rich kids...

valuable assets,

we're... human bearer bonds.

There are other issues here too. Like...

running off, getting lost in the woods.

If you want a hot shower,

you split your own wood for the stove.

Here. Why don't you give it a go?

Looks like you could use one.

No. You seem to be getting

a good kick out of it.

I'll let you have all the fun.

Listen, "entitled brat" doesn't work here.

You pull your own weight

or we all pay the consequences.

Here you go.

Alright. That's you. That's me.

- Wait. We're sharing this room?

- Yeah. Lucky me, right?

So, what was your crime?

Gambling. I took a hit

that almost bankrupt my folks.

Dinner's at seven.

They don't like it when you're late.

Good for them.

F***.

Looking a little green around the gills,

there, Sergeant Dorsey.

These three years in the glasshouse

have softened you up.

Last I remember, you were the one puking

your guts overboard in the Persian Gulf...

- ...sir.

- How are you?

Who's the girl?

Rachel Hennie.

She's handling systems and comms.

Stig Hennie's daughter. Are you serious?

Trust me... she's a natural.

When it comes to the tough stuff,

she takes it in her stride.

Just a bunch of kids, right?

Sure you wanna go down that route?

Do whatever allows us to walk away clean.

It's business as usual, mate. I didn't

find God while you were doing time.

I'm glad to hear it.

So, who's paying for all this, then?

Let's just say someone with lots to lose.

When do we move?

When I get the call.

Rule five, Mr. Hartmann.

It's now 15 minutes after seven.

Sorry, I... fell asleep.

- I'm still on U.S. time.

- You're so full of sh*t.

Miss Tilton, please.

A little exercise should help

with that jetlag, Hartmann.

Are you serious?

None of your classmates

eat until you're done.

Outside.

Outside!

Right. Three reps, up and back.

Double time.

Ah-ah-ah...

one on each shoulder.

Off you pop.

Move it!

Come on, Hartmann. Get a move on.

And again.

Come on, you can do it.

Good.

Now you can take those ropes to

the storeroom next to the main building.

The sooner you're done,

the sooner we dine.

First impressions last, Mr. Hartmann.

Right.

Now that's over with...

Introductions, please.

I am James Thornton. Lexington, Kentucky.

Keiko Oshimoto. Tokyo, Japan.

Paloma Nava. Sao Paolo, Brazil.

Amy Tilton, Boston.

And the Hamptons,

where I was recently left for dead

by this cowardly piece of sh*t

who ran away.

I didn't run away.

I... I was out of it, okay?

Rate this script:0.0 / 0 votes