The Doors Page #6

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
1,376 Views


JOHN looking over furious at RAY who mutters under the music.

RAY:

Turn around Jim! Come on let 'em in.

JIM:

I found an island in your arms

A country in your eyes

Arms that chained us, eyes that lied

(CHORUS)

Jim jumps around violently to the front, getting the attention

of all. Rubbing his leather pants against the mike stand,

leaning against it, not yet comfortable with the extrovert

side of himself, eyes closed, but starting to enjoy it. He

sings to Pam.

INT. BACKSTAGE - THE FOG - THAT NIGHT

JERRY, the ex-vice cop manager who runs the joint, can't

understand the appeal, talking to JIM and ROBBIE who are

packing and hauling their equipment out. DOROTHY is there.

PAM:

(innocently)

So Jerry... do we get paid for this?

JERRY:

(ignoring her)

What sh*t, "day destroys the night",

"crawl back in your brain", "go

insane". What do people wanna pay

money to hear that sh*t.

JIM:

(explains it, gentle)

The greater the suffering, the more

terrible the events, the greater the

pleasure Jerry. They want it, it's

catharsis. Like the ancient Greeks.

JERRY:

(amused)

We're in Los Angeles punk, how would

you know, they like your pants,

they're not listenin' to you, what

the hell they see in you I...

JIM:

(laughs)

But they understand Jerry. All our

real desires are unconscious and

unseen. . .

JERRY:

(scratching his head)

...you're the weirdest f***in' guy I

ever...

JIM:

You love us?

JERRY:

I love ya. You got two more shows to

do.

Camera gliding across the small crowded smokey room to RAY

and JOHN in conversation with a slick Beverly Hills MANAGER

type.

MANAGER:

...I got some real tight record

company connections, just leave it

to me man, I'll take you guys all

the f***in' way, you blew my mind

out there.

RAY:

Yeah right, but what about the music?

MANAGER:

Hey the music? I love it man, that's

why we're talking right? Some of

it's a little on the dark side though.

Ya know ya oughta get some tunes

like Herman's Hermits stuff -- "Mrs.

Brown you got a lovely daughter".

That sh*t goes right to the radio

man.

RAY:

Uh huh. Well, how 'bout gettin' us

some real equipment?

MANAGER:

Listen, I sign you guys to a five

year management contract and you got

it all. Equipment. Demo. A truck

WITH roadies. Three, maybe four

percent record deal. Wherever ya

want to go babe, trust me, I'll get

you there. Whatd'ya say?

RAY:

(exchanging looks

with John)

We'll have a band meeting. The four

of us do everything unanimously or

we don't do it.

MANAGER:

The musketeers. I'm touched. But

lemme tell you something -- loyalty

don't pay the bills. Think about it.

Call me tomorrow.

He gives Ray a card, leaving, crossing to Jim and PAM talking.

JOHN:

(to Ray)

What a sleaze! Man, Jim's gotta start

facing the crowd if he's gonna be

the front man.

RAY:

He's just getting his confidence.

JOHN:

He never does what we rehearsed.

What's the point of...

RAY:

How does it feel?

JOHN:

Great, but...

Pam on payphone calling her friends to come.

PAM:

...make sure you get Barb and Sue

Anne to come. And tell them to ask

for Jim!

The MANAGER on his way out leaning into Jim's face, slyly.

MANAGER:

Jim, how old are you?

JIM:

Ah, twenty one...

MANAGER:

Jesus, you're a gold mine, I'll make

it quick and to the point and if you

repeat it I'll deny it -- drop these

guys, I'll put you with some real

musicians, your voice, your looks,

that's what'll sell records, we'll

make a million bucks. A year. Goodbye.

Call me. I'm right. He gives Jim a

card and goes. Pam disgusted with

the type, Jim laughs, likes the guy.

JIM:

I like a man wears his soul on his

face.

RAY:

(coming over)

"Whiskey's" next, I can feel it in

my bones.

ROBBIE:

I still think the lyrics are weird.

INT. LONDON FOG - NIGHT

MONTAGE EFFECT -- Jim sings "A Little Game" on the Fog stage.

Super over WHISKEY sign.

EXT. SUNSET STRIP -- THAT NIGHT

CU moving down -- the "LOVE" is on the marquee at the famous

WHISKY A GO GO as we move down to see JIM, PAM, and the DOORS.

Jim jumps through the TEEMING TRAFFIC (horns, anger) right

in front of a COP CAR, crossing to a long line of teenage

FANS dying to get into the club.

JIM:

(to Ray, innocently)

Jesus Ray, every girl out there wanted

to f*** me, I could feel it for the

first time!

RAY:

Right on stud. But you better watch

out for the guys.

JIM:

(to the band)

Guys, I'm serious about the desert,

we still gotta deepen man, we gotta

take some peyote -- all of us

together, we got one more stage to

go...

ROBBIE:

I don't know man, fucks up my playing.

I been playing music for 10 years

man and this is the first time in my

whole damned life I ever played it.

JIM:

Are you satisfied?

JOHN:

Will you get off my case! I'm never

doing acid again. Too many bad trips

man.

JIM:

It's not acid John, it's peyote.

It's a bonding ceremony. It's got to

be more... more... more...

JOHN:

I'm into TM man. I promised my guru...

PAM:

I want to! I want to! I'm ready.

Let's go to the desert... do the

peyote, the good peyote.

JIM:

(to girl in line)

Who's on now?

GIRL 1

(withering look, very

hip)

"Love".

JIM:

Yeah, Arthur Lee's cool.

GIRL 1

They're the best... better'n the

Beatles.

JIM:

You mean the Marx Brothers of music,

we could blow 'em away.

The GIRLS looking at each other like who is this jerk.

GIRL 2

And who are you?

JIM:

The Doors... We're up the street at

the Fog.

Laughter from the GIRLS.

GIRL 1

(contempt)

The Doors. I heard of you. That's

the dumbest name. I wouldn't go to

the Fog if you paid me.

JIM:

Oh yeah what would you do for money?

PAM:

Let's go Jim, come on.

Meanwhile DENSMORE is hitting up on GIRL 2.

JOHN:

So you don't have a phone number?

What do you mean you don't have a

phone number?

GIRL 2

I don't have a phone number. So give

me your number then.

JOHN:

I don't have a phone.

Robbie is doing his imitation of a shrimp for ANOTHER GIRL

who's laughing.

GIRL 1

(intrigued, to Jim)

Well, would you leave my name at the

door?

JIM:

Well I don't know. What's your name?

GIRL 1

Caprice.

JIM:

Caprice? That's the dumbest name I

ever heard.

A look between Jim and Caprice. Pamela pulling Jim away,

gives the girl a look.

JIM:

Hey! I am the Lizard king. I can do

Anything! Raise your hands if you

understand! Alive, any of you alive --

let's take a poll -- how many of you

know you're really alive!!

The crowd giggles. Jim climbs a pole, yells.

JIM:

No one? Raise your hands c'mon man...

let's go.

On the crowd. A few raise their hands, smile.

We IRIS in on the Doors suddenly -- a strange sound -- REVERSE

IRIS on Jim -- feeling it now. The peyote.

JIM's POV -- Pam irising out. This strange sound in his ears --

a rattle of an Indian gourd, similar to what we heard in the

car in Arizona when Jim was a boy. Now a distant Indian drum

beating. The beginning strains of THE END dribble in.

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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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