The Doors Page #17

Jim waves, does a small pained victory jig in front of the

thwarted Gestapo, ribcage and spleen hurting.

CROWD:

JIM JIM JIM JIM JIM JIM...

RAY:

(aside to Robbie)

He could go all the way man! In five

years he could be in the White House.

Another JFK.

Robbie's look tells us he thinks Ray is as much caught up in

his dreams as Jim.

CUT TO:

FLASHBULBS hits us full frame as:

INT. MUG SHOT - LIMBO

A reminder of the reality as the thud of a clanking gate

shuts. MORRISON's profile, disheveled hair -- he glares

angrily.

FLASH!

FRONTAL SHOT, slated Police Dept -- New Haven Conn -- 23750 --

12-10-67. A sullen handsome portrait.

INT. RECORDING STUDIO - (LAST SESSION) - LOS ANGELES NIGHT

(1970)

JIM drinks... an ugly cough. Silence. In this puffy wrack

and ruin there is still the ironic tones and sweet delight

of the boy amazed and amused by it all. We hear the ghostly

CROWD still cheering.

JIM:

I drink so I can talk to a**holes.

This includes me. Let's just say I

was testing the bounds of reality --

that's-all -- I was curious... I

kinda always preferred to be hated.

Like Erich Von Stroheim in the

movies... the man you loved to hate...

it's meant to be ironic, courage

wants to laugh. Y'know it's

essentially a stupid situation. I go

out on a stage and I howl for people.

In me they see what they want to see --

some say the Lizard King, whatever

that means, or some black-clad leather

demon whatever that means... but

really I think of myself as a

sensitive, intelligent human being

but with the soul of a clown which

always forces me to blow it at the

most crucial moment...

(pause)

a fake hero... a joke the gods played

on me... it's okay, I accept the

joke... and smile. Death old friend,

death and my cock, I can forgive my

injuries in the name of wisdom,

luxury, romance. Words got me the

wound and will get me well. All join

now in lament of my cock, a tongue

of knowledge in the feathered night.

Boys get crazy in the head and suffer.

I sacrifice my cock on the alter of

silence.

The ENGINEER looking at him puzzled. Has Jim lost it? MIKE,

his friend, is there in the Engineer's booth, with the Door's

SECRETARY, Leticia, and an elegant MYSTERY WOMAN. They're

smoking dope, partying.

MIKE:

Hey Jim, how 'bout hitting a strip-

joint? It's getting late and we can...

JIM:

Nah, later...

The violent backbeat of THE WASP now picking up.

JIM:

Now listen to this I'll tell you

about Texas Radio and the big beat

soft driven slow and mad like some

new language reaching your head with

the cold sudden fury of a divine

messenger let me tell you about

heartache and the loss of God

wandering, wandering in hopeless

night out here on the perimeter there

are no stars out here we is stoned,

immaculate... but I tell you this:

No eternal reward will forgive us

now for wasting the dawn.

EXT. LOS ANGELES - DAWN (1968)

JIM walks the dawn streets. Classic image -- jeans, boots,

jacket, the sun starting to rise on the smog and translucent

pink light along Santa Monica Boulevard outside the cheap

Alta Cienega Motel where he lives... PEACE FROG shoots us

through.

DOORS SONG:

Blood in the streets in the town of New Haven

Blood stains the roofs and palm trees of Venice

Blood in my love in the terrible summer

The bloody red sun of phantastic L.A.

Over the SONG, a MONTAGE of the 60's passing to its darker

side.

DOCUMENTARY IMAGES

MARTIN LUTHER KING assassinated, BOBBY KENNEDY gunned down,

PEGGY FLEMMING ice skating at the Olympics; A QUAKER burns

himself to death protesting the war in Vietnam; B-52 bombs

dropped on CAMBODIA; KENT STATE erupts; CHARLES MANSON is

arrested.

INT. BARNEY'S BEANERY - LOS ANGELES - MONDAY

JIM -- drinking in Barney's Bar.

HEADLINE READS:

"KANSAS COPS SLAM DOORS; CONCERT CANCELLED," 2nd HEADLINE:

"DOORS 3RD ALBUM OUT, SALES UP, MAGIC DOWN."

Dissolve to CRITIC'S FACE. Back to Jim's face.

Superimpositions over it of:

NEWS FLASHES:

LYNDON JOHNSON's dog face on TV withdrawing: NIXON waving as

he wins '68; Rowen and Martin's LAUGH IN; COLUMBIA STUDENTS

taking over; 3rd HEADLINE: "MORRISON BUSTED IN VEGAS". MARTIN

LUTHER KING going down again; NIXON winning; massive ANTI-

WAR PROTESTS in Washington; floating space ships in "2001";

B-52s sailing over Vietnam 4th HEADLINE: "DOORS PROVOKE

CHICAGO RIOTS" -- again and again, faster, faster.

DOORS SONG:

Blood is the rose of mysterious union!

There's blood in the streets & it's up to my knees

She came

Blood in the streets of Chicago

She came

Blood on the rise and it's following me

Just about the break of day (etc)

The river runs red down the legs of the city

She came

The women are crying red rivers of weeping

The MONTAGE collides into an ECU on JIM -- drinking as if to

silence the images, the sounds we hear and see on his face.

Spirits crying for release. In alcoholic solace. He passes

out, head hitting the bar.

Jim's English friend, MIKE, walks in, throwing a harsh shaft

of LA morning light across the dark bar and JIM's face, bleary

eyed, passed out on the counter. He has a drinking paunch.

With him are TOM BAKER, "TOM", the actor from the Warhol

scene in New York and a huge biker type drinker named DOG,

one of Jim's roadmen, a beard fanning his chest, tattoos

everywhere. In the front of these three monoliths are about

twenty beer bottles, numerous Jack Daniels bottles emptied

and a lesbian BARTENDRESS pouring up a breakfast shot of

bloody Marys... Mike hands Dog a breakfast in a brown paper

bag.

MIKE:

Morning. Pour me breakfast Delores...

Delores pouring the bloody mary. As Mike scoffs at Jim passed

out.

MIKE:

Whatsa matter with Jimbo? Can't handle

it huh

(studying the beer

bottles for leftovers)

TOM:

P*ssy whipped, man...

DOG reaching in, dragging Jim's face up by the hair. Sticks

Mike's greasy eggs and bacon in front of Jim.

DOG:

Hey Jim, come on babe, eat this. . .

one last place to go. Ray's getting

it on.

Jim is suddenly alert -- an instant and surprising

transformation, without hangover, eager eyed.

JIM:

(sparkling)

Alive she cried! Right Dog, another

cubic centimeter of chance

(slaps Dog, notices

the eggs, queasy)

Ugh, I can't eat this stuff, it'll

really make me sick. Gimme a Dos

Equis will ya Delores? And a Ramos

gin fizz with it.

TOM:

F*** man did you fade or what, we

were on a "death run" up to the 9000

building after the gig, you bet me a

grand you'd walk the ledge.

JIM:

(instantly)

Let's go... Right now!

TOM:

Then mumbling about "gotta go home,

sanctuary," p*ssy whipped. We were

gonna film it! A thousand bucks!

(to Delores)

Give him a double.

JIM:

A triple, Tom, shem and shaun...

TOM:

...imagine me and Morrison in a f***in

movie together, can you imagine two

powerful two-fisted Irish f***ing

drinking guys in a movie, in a

documentary movie!!

MIKE:

I'll direct the sh*t out of it, man.

Dennis Hopper can do it, I can do

it.

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