The Rum Diary

Volare

Oh, oh

Cantare

Oh, oh, oh, oh

Let's fly way up

to the clouds

Away from

the maddening crowds

We can sing in the glow

of a star that I know of

Where lovers enjoy

peace of mind

Let us leave the confusion

And all disillusion behind

Just like birds of a feather

A rainbow together we'll find

Volare

Oh, oh

E cantare

Oh, oh, oh, oh

No wonder

my happy heart sings

Your love

has given me wings

(AIRPLANE SOARING OVER)

(GRUNTS)

(SIGHS)

(AIRPLANE APPROACHING)

(KNOCKING ON DOOR)

Who is it?

MAN:
Room service.

Ls it eggs?

I don't know, sir.

I didn't order it.

You want some water with that?

No, no.

No, I don't.

Looks like you had a night.

They look perfect.

Get out.

I intended to bring that

to the attention

of a member of staff.

I had some difficulty

getting it to open.

It's the little key

on the door key, sir.

Right.

I was looking for some nuts.

I tend to avoid alcohol.

When I can.

(SPEAKING SPANISH)

I don't speak Spanish.

Cuatro cincuenta.

No change.

(MUTTERING)

(CROWD CLAMORING)

(SPEAKING SPANISH)

(FEEDBACK SCREECHES)

(SPEAKING SPANISH)

(SHOUTING IN SPANISH)

No, no, no, no,

you're not listening.

I said the Pirates,

not the Yankees.

It's going to be

Roberto's year,

I'm telling you.

Looking for Mr. Lotterman.

End of the room.

No, no, the Pirates.

You guys are going

to be all over.

It's Roberto Clemente, man.

And by the way, I

want to talk about...

LOTTERMAN:
Not now!

He's having the Friday crisis.

You Kemp?

Yeah.

He was expecting you yesterday.

We had some weather.

Yeah, I heard.

Big snow in New York.

He's still on a call.

You want some coffee?

No, thanks.

What's all the fuss out front?

You came in the front?

We don't use that door.

Not when los jibaros pitch up.

What do they want?

I don't know.

Some f***ed idea

of a living wage.

They've been out there

on and off for months.

By the way, my name's Sala.

Bob Sala, staff photographer.

Pleased to meet you, Bob.

Yeah.

He's off.

You might want to try

another subservient knock.

Yeah.

Kemp.

Don't notice the wig.

LOTTERMAN:

Yeah. What?

If you're

who I think you are,

you better sit down.

You find it

a little bright in here?

I'd take them off,

but I have

a medical condition.

What do you mean, you're blind?

Conjunctivitis, sir.

The old red eye, huh?

(CHUCKLES)

You arrive at a very,

very trying time, Mr. Kemp.

One of those days stacking up.

So, uh, why don't we cut

through the niceties

and just get right to it, huh?

That's how I like to proceed.

Okay.

Your resume here.

(SPITS)

Very impressive CV.

Yeah.

You worked your way up

some interesting titles.

I really like

the "fluent Spanish."

Mmm.

Wow.

(CHUCKLING)

This CV... This CV is

a bunch of bullshit.

Ls it?

This is two days on the wire.

A day dead.

We don't have it.

Oh.

What is the matter with Moburg?

He's about as useful

as a dug-up body.

(CHUCKLES)

You see, the problem with

this newspaper, Mr. Kemp,

is that I am among many

who don't enjoy reading it.

We have an ailing circulation,

and I just have to

look around this building

to understand why.

Lack of commitment and

too much self-indulgence.

Mmm. Mmm.

So what I'm looking for

is some enthusiasm,

some energy,

some fresh blood.

And the question

that I'm asking myself

is how much alcohol

is usual in yours.

My fresh blood?

How much do you drink?

I suppose at

the upper end of "social."

I'm poised to give up.

Well, Puerto Rico may not be

the best place on Earth

to do that.

Mmm. Mmm.

Don't look so

anxious, Mr. Kemp.

I wouldn't have paid

for your hotel if

I hadn't already hired you.

But this is not

the Last Chance Saloon,

and I do not need

another heavy drinker.

Which I perceive,

from the condition of

eyeballs behind glasses,

that you might

very well qualify as.

This is a medical

condition, Mr. Lotterman.

I know it might look

like something else,

but this is a...

Looks like a f***in' hangover.

Does it?

(WHISTLE BLOWING OUTSIDE)

(CLAMORING)

Come here.

That's the kind of

commitment I like

to see in a man.

Oh! Determination,

balanced with

appropriate humanity.

Yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah.

Which side do you dress, Kemp?

I beg your pardon?

Politics.

I kind of hang in the middle.

(LAUGHS)

This is a schizoid

society, Kemp.

They got two languages,

two flags, two loyalties,

two anthems.

We bring them stuff

they never had.

They either hate it or

they want more of it.

It's a reluctant part

of America.

It's like an England

with tropical fruit.

Bob.

Just the man I wanted to see.

This is Paul Kemp.

He's joining us

from New York.

Yeah, yeah, we already met.

Uh, that's...

That's Mr. Clive Donovan,

sports.

And this is

Mr. Hubert,

accounting.

Listen, do me a favor,

will you?

Show him around,

the dos and don'ts.

Introduce him

to some of the guys.

I'll take him up to Al's.

Oh, the hell you will.

You take him to the library.

You pull out some volumes.

I want him to get

a sense of the paper.

You know,

make some notes,

go back a few years,

paying particular attention

to bowling alleys.

There's bowling and

bowling alleys.

Very big here.

They're up

like mushrooms.

A new one premieres every week.

Been to

Puerto Rico before?

No.

Oh, you're going to

fall right into it.

There's a boom

on here, Kemp.

It's an open door.

You play it right,

you can surf the place.

Ah.

What do you know

about horoscopes?

Nothing.

Ah, well, if I can

write one, you can.

So it's every day with

a special "Star's Star"

featured Saturday

with Betty Grable

and Neil Sedaka,

things like that.

So here,

everything you need

is right there.

It's called

"Madam La Zonga Predicts."

What happened to

Madam La Zonga?

He got canceled.

What do you mean, fired?

They raped him to death.

They raped him to death?

There are

very few places

on this island

I decline to visit,

but the toilets

frequented by sailors

on the west side

of Candado Pier is one.

They raped him to death?

La Zonga died in a cubicle.

Say, you're not,

uh, artistic,

are you, Kemp?

Oh, no.

You might want to

rethink those

menthol cigarettes.

They don't do a thing for you.

(INDISTINCT CHATTER)

Come by the house.

I will.

I like your stuff.

The cuttings you sent

to Lotterman.

Oh.

It's good writing.

Thanks.

We'll talk.

SALA:

One more floor!

(BUZZER SOUNDING)

They put in automated

packing machines

about six months ago.

They mechanized

almost everything.

There used to be

Now there's five.

Hence happiness in the street.

Souvenir, day one.

SALA:

Here's to pretty women

with filthy thoughts.

(CHUCKLING)

Want a burger?

No.

Burger?

No, thanks.

Try it. Dos.

So how was the induction?

Somewhat fraught.

No disrespect, Paul,

but he didn't have

a lot of choice.

You know how many people

applied for the job?

One. You.

Ls that right?

Even then,

I thought I'd blown it.

Zeroed in on my weakest spot.

WOLSLEY:

Which is what?

Two and a half

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