quarta-feira, 4 de agosto de 2010

Amor à Queima Roupa (True Romance) -1993

Segue a cena e o trecho do roteiro para a apreciação de todos.



              Do you know who I am, Mr. Worley?

              I give up. Who are you?


              I'm the Anti-Christ. You get me
              in a vendetta kind of mood, you
              will tell the angels in Heaven
              that you had never seen pure evil
              so singularly personified as you
              did in the face of the man who
              killed you. My name is Vincenzo
              Coccotti. I work as council for
              Mr. Blue Lou Boyle, the man who
              your son stole from. I hear you
              were once a cop so I can assume
              you've heard of us before. Am
              I correct?

              I've heard of 'Blue Lou Boyle.'

              I'm glad. Hopefully that will
              clear up the how-full-of-shit-I-am
              question you've been asking yourself.
              Now, we're gonna have a little Q and A,
              and at the risk of sounding redundant,
              please make your answers genuine.
                 (taking out a pack
                  of Chesterfields)
              Want a Chesterfield?


                 (as he lights one up)
              I have a son of my own. About your
              boy's age. I can imagine how
              painful this must be for you. But
              Clarence and that bitch whore girl
              friend of his brought this all on
              themselves. And I implore you not
              to go down the road with 'em. You
              can always take comfort in the
              fact that you never had a choice.

              Look, I'd help ya if I could, but
              I haven't seen Clarence --

Before Cliff can finish his sentence, Coccotti                                    
slams him hard in the nose with his fist.

              Smarts, don't it? Gettin' slammed
              in the nose fucks you all up.
              You got that pain shootin' through
              your brain. Your eyes fill up
              with water. It ain't any kind of fun.


                           COCCOTTI (CONT'D)
              But what I have to offer you,
              that's as good as it's ever gonna
              get, and it won't ever get that
              good again. We talked to your
              neighbors, they saw a Mustang,
              a red Mustang, parked in front of
              your trailer yesterday. Mr. Worley,
              have you seen your son?

Cliff's defeated.

              I've seen him.

              Now I can't be sure of how much
              of what he told you. So in the
              chance you're in the dark about
              some of this, let me shed some
              light. That whore your boy hangs
              around with, her pimp is an
              associate of mine, and I don't
              just mean pimpin', in other
              affairs he works for me in a
              courier capacity. Well, apparently,
              that dirty little whore found out
              when we were gonna do some
              business, 'cause your son, the
              cowboy and his flame, came in the
              room blastin' and didn't stop
              'til they were pretty sure
              everybody was dead.

              What are you talkin' about?

              I'm talkin' about a massacre.
              They snatched my narcotics and
              high-tailed it outta there. Wouldda
              gotten away with it, but your son,
              fuckhead that he is, left his driver's
              license in a dead guy's hand. A
              whore hiding in the commode filled
              in all the blanks.

              I don't believe you.

              That's of minor importance. But
              what's of major fucking importance
              is that I believe you. Where did
              they go?

              On their honeymoon.


              I'm gettin' angry askin' the same
              question a second time. Where did
              they go?

              They didn't tell me.

Coccotti looks at him.,

              Now, wait a minute and listen. I
              haven't seen Clarence in three
              years, yesterday he shows up here
              with a girl, sayin' he got married.
              He told me he needed some quick
              cash for a honeymoon, so he
              asked if he could borrow five
              hundred dollars. I wanted to
              help him out so I wrote out a
              check. We went to breakfast
              and that's the last I saw of him.
              So help me God. They never thought
              to tell me where they were goin'.
              And I never thought to ask.

Coccotti looks at him for a long moment. He then gives
Virgil a look. Virgil, quick as greased lightning, grabs
Cliff's hands and turns it palm up. He then whips out a
butterfly knife and slices Cliff's palm open and pours
Chivas Regal on the wound. Cliff screams.

Coccotti puffs on a Chesterfield.

Tooth-pick Vic returns to the trailer, and reports in
Italian that there's nothing in the car.

Virgil walks into the kitchen and gets a dishtowel. Cliff
holds his bleeding palm in agony. Virgil hands him the
dishtowel. Cliff uses it to wrap up his hand.

              Sicilians are great liars. The
              best in the world. I'm a
              Sicilian. And my old man was
              the world heavyweight champion of
              Sicilian liars. And from growin'
              up with him I learned the pantomime.
              Now there are seventeen different
              things a guy can do when he lies to
              give him away. A guy has seventeen
              pantomimes. A woman's got twenty,
              but a guy's got seventeen. And if
              ya know 'em like ya know your
              own face, they beat lie detectors
              all to hell. What we got here is
              a little game of show and tell.



                          COCCOTTI (CONT'D)
              You don't wanna show me nothin'.
              But you're tellin' me everything.
              Now I know you know where they
              are. So tell me, before I do
              some damage you won't walk away

The awful pain in Cliff's hand is being replaced by the
awful pain in his heart. He looks deep into Coccotti's

              Could I have one of those
              Chesterfields now?

Coccotti leans over and hands him a smoke.

              Gotta match?

Cliff reaches into his pocket and pulls out a lighter.

              Oh, don't bother. I got one.
                  (he lights the
              So you're a Sicilian, huh?


              You know I read a lot. Especially
              things that have to do with history.
              I find that shit fascinating. In
              fact, I don't know if you know
              this or not, Sicilian's were spawned
              by niggers.

All the men stop what they are doing and look at Cliff,
except for Tooth-pick Vic who doesn't speak English and
so, isn't insulted.

Coccotti can't believe what he's hearing.

              Come again?

              It's a fact. Sicilians have
              nigger blood pumping through their


                           CLIFF (CONT'D)
              If you don't believe me look it
              up. You see, hundreds and
              hundreds of years ago the Moors
              conquered Sicily. And Moors are
              niggers. Way back then, Sicilians
              were like the Wops in northern
              Italy. Blond hair, blue eyes.
              But, once the Moors moved in there,
              they changed the whole country.
              They did so much fuckin' with
              the Sicilian women, they changed
              the bloodline forever, from blond
              hair and blue eyes to black hair
              and dark skin. I find it
              absolutely amazing to think that
              to this day hundreds of years
              later, Sicilians still carry that
              nigger gene. I'm just quotin'
              history. It's a fact. It's
              written. Your ancestors were
              niggers. Your great, great, great,
              great grandmother was fucked by
              a nigger, and had a half nigger
              kid. That is a fact. Now tell
              me, am I lyin'?

Coccotti looks at him for a moment then jumps up, whips
out an AUTOMATIC, grabs hold of Cliff's hair, puts the
barrel to his temple, and PUMPS three bullets through
Cliff's head.

He pushes the body violently aside.
Coccotti pauses. Unable to express his feelings and
frustrated by the blood on his hands, he simply drops his
weapon and turns to his men.

              I haven't killed anybody since
              1974. Goddamn his soul to burn
              for eternity in fucking hell for
              making me spill blood on my hands!
              Go to this comedian's son's
              apartment and come back with
              something that tells me where that
              asshole went so I can wipe this
              egg off of my face and fix this
              fucked up family for good.
Tooth-pick Vic taps Frankie's shoulder and, in Italian, asks
him "what was that all about?"

Lenny, who has been going through Cliff's refrigerator has
found a beer.


When he closes the refrigerator door he finds a note
being held on be a ceramic banana fruit magnet that says:
"Clarence in LA: Dick Ritchie (Number and address).

              Boss, get ready to get happy.


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