The Doors Page #25

Synopsis: Oliver Stone's homage to 1960s rock group The Doors also doubles as a biography of the group's late singer, the "Electric Poet" Jim Morrison. The movie follows Morrison from his days as a film student in Los Angeles to his death in Paris, France at age 27 in 1971. The movie features a tour-de-force performance by Val Kilmer, who not only looks like Jim Morrison's long-lost twin brother, but also sounds so much like him that he did much of his own singing. It has been written that even the surviving Doors had trouble distinguishing Kilmer's vocals from Morrison's originals.
Director(s): Oliver Stone
Production: Sony Pictures Home Entertainment
  3 nominations.
 
IMDB:
7.2
Metacritic:
62
Rotten Tomatoes:
54%
R
Year:
1991
140 min
1,501 Views


The Crowd yelling something. An INSANE TEENAGER stands on

the railing of a balcony above the auditorium, poised to

swan dive some 18 feet into the crowd. Which he now does,

arms held out like wings.

The Crowd yells, parting to allow his bulk to smack the floor.

Pause. Cops rushing to the spot. The KID suddenly stands up,

unhurt, with a stoned out look on his face.

TEENAGER:

Wow!

Then splits at a full run thru the crowd chased by the

perplexed Cops. Everybody surging back towards the stage as

JIM looses one of his primal SCREAMS.

JIM:

YAAAAAOOOOOOOOOOWWWWWW!!! Love my

girl!

(song)

Five to one

One in five

No one here gets out alive

You gets your baby

I'll get mine

Gonna make it, baby

If we try

He slobbers, drunk, slouches, stumbles, regains his balance.

The Crowd loves it, but Ray senses something wrong. Robbie

starts to feel the effects of the acid Jim gave him -- his

eyes registering fear.

JIM & DOORS

The old get old

The young get stronger

May take a week

And it may take longer

They got the guns

But we got the numbers

Gonna win yeah -- WE'RE TAKING OVER!!

During the instrumental break, Jim picks up one of the roses

from the floor, pokes it at John on the drums, who whacks it

to death on his skins. Jim starts to whirl the mike cord

like a slingshot or bolo, in an ever-widening arc...

...it flies off and smashes into the head of the PROMOTER at

the edge of the stage arguing with SIDDONS. The man is

staggered, weaving, Siddons helping him to a FIRST AID TEAM.

JIM:

YAAAAAAOOOOOOWWWWWWW!!!

The crazy VEGETERIAN HIPPIE runs out on stage to give Jim

the white lamb to make this political point. Jim holds the

lamb in his arms. It's purring, gentle. DOG chases the HIPPIE

off as he gives the microphone back to Jim and takes the

lamb from him... he staggers over to ROBBIE and goes down to

his knees, pretending to give him head on his frantic stoned

guitar solo.

JIM & DOORS

Your ballroom days are over baby

Night is drawing near

Shadows of the evening

Crawl across the years

You walk across the floor

With a flower in your hand

Tryin to tell me no one understands

PHOTOGRAPHERS flashing cameras. BAKER urging him on from the

wings as he passes out. A GIRL runs onto the stage, dumps a

bottle of champagne on Jim's head. Jim takes his shirt off,

soaking wet. The CROWD is also stripping in the heat, shirts,

blouses, screaming so much now they are obviously way past

listening to any song. It has become a view of the future --

the NAKED GIRL and BOY dancing stark naked drugged out in

the middle of it all, the FAT GIRL prowling naked on the

edge of the stage before she's arrested, the FIGHTS in the

Crowd, fists, blood, a black man chased and beaten, the sense

of Altamont here, the hippie flower trip gone to sh*t --

it's all come down here tonight, the end of an era.

JIM & DOORS

Trade in your hours for a handful of

dimes

Gonna make it baby -- in our prime

Get together one more time

Get together

He stops singing suddenly, squinting out into the madness.

The arena echoes with the uncomprehending chant of the Mob...

MOB:

...one more time

Get together one more time

Get together one more time

SPECIAL EFFECT -- the INDIAN GHOST is leaving Jim's body --

spectrally moving off him, hovering there in the air, its

eyes -- the face of a dying Indian on an Arizona highway --

then gone. A moment, only three, four beats. An optical

illusion? Maybe. Or is it saying, 'now you are just a white

man'... maybe not. As it drifts off in a cloud, into the

vast audience's EYEBALL.

JIM:

YOU'RE ALL A BUNCHA F***IN SLAVES!!!

The instruments continue to vamp but there's a hush to the

CROWD.

JIM:

Lettin people tell you what you're

gonna do! Lettin people push you

around! How long you think it's gonna

last! How long you gonna let them

push you around!!

He waits. INTERCUTS of the FACES in the crowd.

VOICES:

(ignoring Jim)

"Light My Fire"! Play "Light My

Fire"!! Come on Jim...

(some boos sprinkled

in)

Take your clothes off man! Get wild!

F*** me baby. F*** me girl, suck my

cock honey around the world! Mexican

whore suck my prick! Keeper of the

royal sperm man! CELEBRATE THE LIZARD

MAN, DRAIN IT MOTHERF***ER!!

JIM:

C'MON GET IT ALL OUT! ALL THE LITTLE

HATREDS, Everything inside you...

LET ME HAVE IT!

CROWD:

F*** YOU!

JIM:

THAT'S THE ONE LITTLE WORD I WANTED

TO HEAR! THAT'S THE VERY LITTLE WORD!

THE WHOLE WORLD HATES ME! THE WHOLE

F***ING WORLD HATES ME!

VOICE:

(girl)

SAVE US... SAVE US, JIM... JIM!

EEEE... I TOUCHED HIM.

JIM:

Maybe you love it, maybe you love

gettin your faces pressed into the

sh*t of the world! You'd all eat

sh*t wouldn't ya!! Adolph Hitler is

ALIVE AND WELL HERE IN MIAMI!! YOU'RE

ALL A BUNCHA SLAVES!!

The Crowd BOOS back at him, surging suddenly with hatred for

Jim. Intercut the Crowd -- feel this hatred.

JIM:

WHAT ARE YA GONNA DO ABOUT IT! WHAT

ARE YA GONNA DO ABOUT IT! WHAT ARE

YA GONNA DO ABOUT IT!

The Band has petered out by this point but out of nowhere,

ROBBIE, zonked on his version of LSD, starts up with "TOUCH

ME BABE."

JIM & DOORS

(going with it)

Come on, come on, come on and F***

me babe! Can't you see that I am not

afraid

(cuts the music)

HEY WAIT A MINUTE...

(music cuts off

raggedly)

Miami Beach Florida hunh? I was BORN

and RAISED not far from here... went

to Florida State...

(cheers)

Then I GOT SMART. I went to California

where you can let your hair grow

long and walk down the street without

people calling you a FREAK... They're

trying to CHANGE THE WORLD out there

in California.

VOICES:

Yeah, STOP THE WAR MAN, PEACEEE...

WE LOVE YA JIM.

JIM:

NO I'm not talkin' 'bout NO

REVOLUTION. I'm not talkin 'bout no

DEMONSTRATION. I'm talking 'bout

HAVING SOME FUN. I'm talkin' 'bout

DANCIN. I'm talkin 'bout LOVE. I'm

talkin' 'bout some LOVE. LOVE LOVE

LOVE LOVE... LOVE!!!! Grab your friend --

and LOVE him. Come oooooaaaannnnn.

Yeah!

Jim pulling his shirt off -- barechested -- waving it like a

toreador in front of his leather crotch.

VOICES:

(cheers, giggles)

"Light My Fire"! Come on Jim -- play

"Light My Fire"!

The audience seems to be paying no attention to what he is

doing or saying, which drives him to deeper rage.

JIM:

Ain't nobody gonna love my ass? Come

on... I need ya. There's so many of

ya out there and nobody's gonna love

me! C'mon -- what'cha come here for

anyway? You didn't come here for

music. You didn't come here to see a

good band. You came here for THIS

didn't ya...

He saunters to the edge of the stage. Hisses at them. He

clasps his crotch, leering at a cute LITTLE GIRL in the front

row, shaking it at her. Her BOYFRIEND, pissed at Jim, runs

for the stage. Jim unzips his leathers.

JIM:

I'm lonely out here -- Ya wanna SEE

IT... COME ON SWEETHEART... I need

it, I NEED IT, need ya, need ya,

NEED YA, COME OOOOOAAAANNNNNNN...

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Randall Jahnson

Randall Jahnson is an American writer, director and producer. His works include Dudes, The Doors, The Mask of Zorro, Sunset Strip, and episodes of the HBO TV series Tales from the Crypt. Jahnson also directed music videos for Stan Ridgway, Henry Rollins, Black Flag, and Minutemen. In the 1987, he launched the independent record label Blue Yonder Sounds in Los Angeles. The label released four albums: Civilization and Its Discotheques by The Fibonaccis, Bigger than Breakfast by Slack, Three Gals, Three Guitars by The Del Rubio Triplets, and Motel Cafe by Michael C. Ford. more…

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