The Doors Page #11

JIM:

We weren't built to last.

PAM:

Aren't you doing this for you, because

you're a poet, not a rock star. Ed

Sullivan's not a place for you.

JIM:

You really know what I am Pam? You

know what poetry is? Where is the

feast they promised us? Where is the

wine -- the new wine -- dying on the

vine?

PAM:

What are you saying!

JIM:

Y'see -- I lied to you. I really

love Fame.

PAM:

(Here we go)

Why are you doing this to me?

JIM:

(drinks)

'Cause you're in the room.

She tries to take the bottle away. He resists. They struggle.

It becomes a fight.

PAM:

And this is gonna help! It's probably

the cause. 'Least put some soul in

your success a**hole!

JIM:

Maybe you're the cause!

PAM:

Right.

JIM:

I mean I don't have this problem

with anybody else.

PAM:

(getting the bottle)

Give it to me!!!

JIM:

(getting it back)

No!!!!! Mommy!!!

PAM:

(gives up, tries to

exit)

F*** you man I'm outta here.

He grabs her. They lurch, smashing the lamp. WILD CHILD song

kicking in.

JIM:

(excited now)

Get mad! Yeahhh! Love my girl! Yeah,

go f*** the other guys. How many

white guys have you f***ed Pam? 10,

20? Black guys what? You like Chinese

d*cks? Mongolian penis? 30?

PAM:

(fighting)

...how many dogs have you f***ed!

You don't say No to anybody! Drugs,

dogs, uglies, you'd f*** a doorknob

with butter on it!

JIM:

How could I do that

PAM:

(shouting top of her

lungs)

You're the first one who couldn't

make it with me anyway! You're the

only limp dick in the lot!!!

Camera running at them from the end of the room. JIM laughs

manically as they roll off the bed into a wall. Kicking,

hitting hard.

DOORS SONG:

Wild Child full of grace

Savior of the human race

Your cool face

Natural child, terrible child

Not your mother or your father's child

Your own child, screaming wild

JIM:

HA HA HA!! WILL YOU DIE FOR ME!

PAM:

NO! WILL YOU DIE FOR ME!!

JIM:

I'D DIE FOR ANYBODY.

PAM:

WHAT ABOUT ME! WHAT ABOUT ME!

JIM:

C*NT C*NT C*NT.

PAM:

LIAR LIAR LIAR. YOU PROMISED. YOU

PROMISED.

JIM:

I'M SORRY I'M SORRY I'M SORRY.

A VOICE across the wall joining in, banging.

VOICE:

SHADDUP WILLYA. I'M TRYING TO

SLEEP!!!!

JIM:

THEN MOVE TO MIAMI YOU SLAVE!!!

More nagging. By this time the fight has expired of its own

volition.

JIM:

(quietly)

You were saying?

They giggle, start to laugh. Then they cuddle on the floor,

in the corner, in this semi-lit New York hotel room.

JIM:

(low)

...will you die for me, Pam, a clown,

a despicable clown?... a mere

despicable clown?

PAM:

Yes yes yes.

JIM:

...I need a home. A place to hide.

PAM:

...with me. Yes... yes...

JIM:

(mumbling)

...how could we make a home?... where

there's sanctuary?

PAM:

...yes, yes, yes.

He's hard now. She's guiding him inside her.

JIM:

...we're in Africa, we're just

animals... I wanna stay inside you

all night baby... let's f*** death

away, now f*** death away...

PAM:

...yes...

INT. PRESS CONFERENCE - HOTEL SUITE NEW YORK - DAY

Camera moving in past the buffet, champagne, flowers in the

hotel suite overlooking CENTRAL PARK... to the DOORS in

armchairs surrounded by an informal group of a DOZEN

JOURNALISTS and PRESS PHOTOGRAPHERS... JIM behind dark shades

drinking long Hawaiian fruit punches, decked out in snakeskin.

JOURNALIST 1

(stiff, Times type)

What are your songs about Mr.

Morrison?

TIME DISSOLVES over the questions and answers. A vaguely

dreamy quality.

JIM:

Uh love death travel... revolt. We

all write the songs, we're interested

in anything about disorder, chaos,

especially activity which seems to

have no meaning... I think when you

make peace with authority, you become

authority.

JOURNALIST 1

Can you define that a little more?

JIM:

Yeah you can call us erotic

politicians I guess.

DISSOLVING OVER:

JOURNALIST 2

Do you really consider yourself a

shaman Mr. Morrison?

DISSOLVING OVER:

JIM:

...a scapegoat maybe -- I take on

the audiences' fantasies, obeying

their impulses. When the impulses

are destructive, I'm destructive.

It's kinda like sucking the puss out

of a rattlesnake, something like

that.

JOURNALIST 1

(smiling)

...like a medicine man or witch

doctor?

RAY:

(cuts in)

Jim said to me once, the history of

rock and roll's like Greek drama or

caveman stories. The audience comes

to see ancient rituals in ancient

caves. Their souls in jeopardy.

They're not watching any longer,

they're participating -- and

everything's in play, your life,

your death...

JOURNALIST 1

(glib)

Is that why they scream so much?

Gentle laughter. The JOURNALISTS don't get it... panning

their looks. The backbeat of CRYSTAL SHIP, dreamy hazy, Warhol-

like interview floating over the room like a giant mushroom

cloud.

DISSOLVING TO:

JOURNALIST 3

(more down to earth)

Mr. Morrison, how do you feel about

being called the "ultimate barbie

doll".

On Jim -- a beat. A sickly smile spreads.

JIM:

I guess when you say something like

that, it's a shortcut to thinking.

JOURNALIST 3

Then do you "think" about the dreadful

reviews your new poetry book has

gotten?

Holding up a copy of "The Lords and New Creatures".

JIM:

(softly)

I guess they didn't understand.

JOURNALIST 3

(having scored)

And it's true you financed it's

publication?

Jim motions him over, whispers something at SIDDONS who goes

to fetch a pair of scissors.

RAY:

(angry)

Have you bothered to read the poetry

ma'm? You keep denying that anything

good can come from L.A., I mean isn't

that kind of a provincial attitude?

That Bob Dylan's the only poet cause

he's from the East Coast, but you

won't even look past Jim's goddamn

looks at the words man!

JIM:

(embarrassed)

Hey c'mon Ray, hate should be allowed.

JOURNALIST 1

...but what really are your songs

about Mr. Morrison? You preach,

"saving the planet", "making a new

age" but how does drinking, taking

drugs, this boozy sort of apocalyptic

stance at the world influence young

people in a positive way?

JIM:

I like that -- "boozy apocalyptic" --

you're a word man, but how does your

newspaper influence young people to

think about Vietnam? Who's sending

the soldiers over there to die? The

establishment -- right? Your newspaper --

right? That seems to me a lot more

dangerous than the stuff we do.

DISSOLVING OVER:

JOURNALIST 3

Do you believe in drugs Mr. Morrison?

SIDDONS comes back in, hands Jim a pair of scissors.

JIM:

(graciously disdainful)

Did you know Nietzsche said, "all

good consciousness, all evidence of

truth comes only from the senses"?

Hey you wanna arm wrestle? Come on,

you look pretty tough today. C'mon,

I'll take you all on.

JOURNALIST 3

(ignoring his smile)

And alcohol? Is that considered part

of the shaman's wisdom?

JIM:

Part of the clown's wisdom -- it's

kinda the American way. You know we

spend more on alcohol and tobacco

than on education.

DOUBLE IMAGES on the DISSOLVES.

JOURNALIST 3

Are you by any chance in a trance

now Mr. Morrison?

JIM:

Do you hurt?

Rate this script:0.0 / 0 votes