Forbidden Letters (1979) - full transcript
Erotic, explicit letters between a young man and his incarcerated lover recall happier (and hotter) times.
Someone needs to stop Clearway Law.
Public shouldn't leave reviews for lawyers.
[margin bell]
[typewriter slide]
[typing]
[margin bell]
[typewriter slide]
So Larry,
it's foolish for you to
worry this late in the game.
Richard's got his parole.
It's only a matter of
time before he's back,
a free man.
It wasn't a very easy case.
Assault,
robbery,
not very popular crimes.
After all, no one wants to get mugged.
Of course, Richard wasn't thinking,
using his head at the time.
The jury understood that.
And now, the parole has come through.
And the worst
IS over.
I remember Richard,
sitting right where you are
telling me about the two of you,
how you met,
how much he loved you,
your lives together,
how much he was going to miss you.
And Iris Rogers,
she sat there too,
offering to testify,
to give evidence, a character witness.
Well, considering her profession,
it was a nice gesture, anyway.
Frankly,
if I were in jail
like Richard,
a homosexual,
you know, in his place,
I'd be glad you didn't send me any
incriminating letters.
Segregated quarters,
no prison job,
less chance for a quick parole.
You were wise not to write anything
that might have given him away.
Not that I believe all that
talk about electroshock aversion therapy.
But it's always best
to be on the safe side.
Larry,
you're foolish to worry about Richard.
He's got his parole.
He's coming back
a free man.
It hasn't been easy
for you,
for Richard.
Assault,
mugging.
Richard was crazy.
You knew it,
I knew it,
the jury knew it.
But now, it's over.
He's coming back.
You'll be together,
the two of you,
alone
at night
to touch,
to love.
Of course,
if they had known that
Richard was a pervert,
it might have been different.
He might have changed.
But you can tell him why you didn't write.
He'll understand.
Larry,
you're a fool.
It's late,
Richard's free,
free to do anything he wants,
anything.
He's capable of anything.
You're capable of anything,
two of you
alone
together.
Richard, isolated,
solitary,
no words from you,
no real words from you,
only silence.
He's back,
it's late,
and the worst
IS over.
[discordant instrumental music]
[heavy breathing]
[breathing rapidly]
[breathing deeply]
[telephone ringing]
Yes?
What?
Yes, you did.
I was dreaming.
What? What dream?
Oh, your usual nightmare.
Well, get it out of
your head, baby. Today is the day.
May 27th, the big day.
Baby, you've been sitting down
on your hands for almost a year
waiting for him. Tonight,
you're going to see him.
Jesus, you sound
totally freaked.
All right, all right. You're not freaked,
it's just a little
nervous. You got a right to be.
I'd be hysterical, too.
Yeah, you sound quietly hysterical.
Right.
What did you do last night?
Where did you go?
[ Last Night's Man by Paul DuBois ]
My eyes can't cry
and I know I wouldn't even try
to let it out and so I just
go through the motions
Pretending it is just another
night like all the rest I wish it were.
I'm glad it's not,
I hold in my emotions
A year ago, I lost my love
Yet, he remains a part of me
inside my soul though far away
my love’s still living
I've walked this street a hundred times
to find a smile,
to hear the laughter, it's not easy
when it ain't all of you you're giving
Tonight, might be to lead
me on to some stranger and then
beyond his easy way
and I will try to say I'm lonely
The evening light is grey
I see a friendly face
who'll maybe understand
the need I have to break
the spell that holds me
Who is this man?
What's in his eyes?
I see but I don't
realize what's happening
because I'm not
sure of my feelings
Should I smile back and play along?
Should I say yes?
Should I be strong?
I just don't know
if I can give
him any feeling.
Something that's soft
within his voice
his whispered breath
gives me no choice.
I'm feeling warm..
I kind of like this
man to hold me
My body's here,
my mind is there.
I'm trying hard to share
a part of me.
My lonely skin
cannot deny
its sadness.
- Iris,
what am I going to do today?
Look, Larry, sweet, lovable,
schizo that you are.
Get out.
Cruise, go to a movie,
do something a little kinky.
See a porno flick,
get hot, take a Quaalude,
sleaze around.
Not the bars,
the streets.
Meet someone, talk,
blow them, fuck.
Do anything,
but don't walk around rehashing
Richard's letters in your head.
You know how freaky you get
when you start thinking about
everything that's happened.
Yeah, well, I know there's not
much you can do on that,
uh, welfare check
they send you. But this
is San Francisco, homo heaven.
So get out, and I'll meet
you for dinner at 7
at the Powell Coffee Shop.
You know, where they have
those rare steaks that you
dig and the cashier that's
always making eyes at you?
Maybe he'll pick up
the tab if you play it right.
So, get your
gorgeous ass out of bed
and out of the house fast.
Meet you at 7.
Bye.
[When Your Lover Goes
Away by Dan Turner]
When your lover goes away
and you wait for his return.
How long is the day
until he comes back?
And then in time and not to run.
When your lover says goodbye,
and you wait
for his hello.
No words can describe of
the embrace or will he return.
Days met upon
may break the bond.
Though you reach out, you won't respond.
After you, he might recall
the way he kissed you once
and that is all.
When your lover's far away,
and you write him once again.
An answer you say.
Is it still love or will he
sign my letter friend?
Once you have loved, you can't regret.
Feelings for him you can't forget.
And find another man to take you home.
When your lover goes away
and you wait for his return.
How long is the day
when he comes back?
Has there been time and not to run?
[sleazy funk music]
[romantic classical music]
[beach sounds]
[sleazy funk music]
[wind blowing]
[somber instrumental music]
[wistful instrumental music]
[Pass It on to the
Stranger by Ron Dunham]
Pass it on to the stranger.
Everyday feelings coming on.
You're afraid to show your love,
so afraid to go along.
Share your love with the
stranger. Gently, he calls you to say,
is the love still inside your
heart? Keep your heart satisfied.
Share your dream with the
stranger. Let him take you away.
Leave your fears far
behind. Nothing's left to say.
[whistling]
Pass it on to the stranger.
Every day feeling's coming on.
You're afraid to show your love.
So afraid to go along.
[romantic classical music]
[discordant instrumental music]
[typing]
- July 26th. Dear Larry,
it's late afternoon. I'm sitting
I'm sitting in the recreation
yard watching the sky.
I'm feeling sorry for myself.
I've been here one month and two days.
I think I'm used to it now.
Thanks for the letter.
I wish I had more to say to you.
I miss you.
I really don't know what to write.
Nothing about nothing.
I won't try and answer all
the questions you sent me.
I can't because I don't have too
many answers these days.
Larry, I really don't know what I'm feeling.
I'm feeling something.
But I don't know what it is.
Nothing I could explain on paper.
If that's a hassle for you,
I'm sorry. But that's how it is.
I'm just turned off by
the scene here. It's like being asleep.
My eyes are open,
but I don't see anything.
I walk and I move.
Answer questions.
But it's not really me.
How I am...
...or used to be.
[typing]
- November 12th. Dear Larry,
I'm in my bunk today.
I got the flu. Too sick to work,
not sick enough for the
hospital. Anyway,
I get a chance to just lie here and think.
I hope you can understand
me not answering all your letters.
It's not that I don't like
getting them. Most guys here
are crazy for mail. Anything,
magazines, books, even bills.
I must be totally fucked up
'cuz I don't look forward to
getting letters. They remind
me of the outside and everything
I'm missing. I know,
I start thinking about that. I'll
freak out, knock some guard's head off. So,
I try not to think
that or think at all. I wish
I could stop thinking. Turn
my mind off. I have to stop
the memory trips I get into.
Thinking about people, places,
streets, parks, the beach.
I'd like to just cut it all out
of my brain. Lose it. Drop
it somewhere.
[typing]
- May 2nd. Dear Larry,
I'm being set loose from this cage
real soon. Seems I've been a model zombie.
No problems, very cooperative.
[typing]
I can't wait to see you.
I'm very excited and that's bad,
dangerous. Having any feelings
here means trouble. I just
pop and blow the whole setup.
I'm holding my breath.
Maybe I won't breathe it all.
I can hardly keep it together.
I feel like I'm going over
the line. The two weeks to go
has suddenly very scary. I can
hardly sleep. I feel like I'm
going to scream. I'm going
to get out. Two weeks,
14 days. And then, air. And sun.
And no one to ask where I've
been and where I'm going. And
food, real food. And seeing you. Love,
Richard.
[somber classical music]
[instrumental music]
[instrumental music]
[instrumental music]
- Dear Richard,
these are the letters I'll never mail
to you in prison - the
feelings I know would get you in
trouble if they found out what
you are and what you mean
to me. I'm writing in this
book everything I would have
sent to you if I were free
and not frightened. Everything
you saw in my eyes when I
visited you and then had to hold
back so no one could tell
that we're lovers. Some friends
told me to type these letters
and sign a woman's name. They
meant well, but they don't
understand how it's been between
us. So here's this book. I
don't know whether I'll ever
let you read these words. When you get out,
they won't fit.
They'll seem out of place,
dumb and stupid. But right now,
it's the only way I can talk to you,
to myself too. In a fucked
up sense, writing it all down
is the only intimate thing
I can do with you,
'til they let you out. I remember the
first time I saw you,
Richard. You didn't see me, but I
saw you, in a tuxedo, a white tie,
with studs on your shirt
and glitter in your beard. It
was Halloween night and you
were with an outrageous
drag queen. I wondered if the
two of you were lovers and
I knew right then and there
that I wanted you,
that I liked you. It was outside a club
called Cabaret. It was a crowd,
the streets were packed.
It was my first San Francisco
Halloween and I wasn't prepared
for all the people, the costumes,
the lights, the faces.
So, I wandered.
Just walking, like cruising,
only there were too many people
passing by to really catch
anyone's eyes. You looked happy
and stoned. There was a
lot going on for me that night,
a lot of firsts. But you stood
out. I wanted to come over
and say 'Hello'. I should have done I,
but I was scared
and excited. So I watched
you make your way into the club
and I wondered about you.
What you were like to be with,
to talk to, how you'd be in bed,
what it would be like to
spend the night with you,
wake up next to you. It cost
me a few bucks cover
charge just to get into the club.
But I made my way through
the mob and followed you inside.
I watched you dancing and
got into the music and your date.
She was incredible. Thinking back,
I guess I was pretty
wide-eyed and unsure. It
seems crazy now to have watched
you from the sidelines
thinking you wouldn't like me.
I still feel that way in bars,
a little nervous. Just not
on top of it all. That night,
I saw more than just the Cabaret.
I saw myself as maybe being
part of everything around me,
connecting instead of just
watching. I know I wanted you
from that first night. I can admit it here.
I'd have given anything to be with you.
[Harlequin Eyes by Tommy Talley]
Images and faces,
all my senses are careening
the evening holds a mystery,
somehow a sense of meaning
a symphony of black and white,
a gentleman's touch
But is it just the mask I admire so much?
Your hair is streaked with silver
and your smile streaked with pain.
Your eyes are streaked with anger,
like I never want to see again
Your heart is streaked with
feeling like the depths of the sea
I see through the mask.
I see me
Mirroring lies of a
similar path intertwined
and I feel sure
but somehow inside
there's a nagging suspicion
like a premonition
It makes me slightly sad
and somewhat insecure
The glimmer from your face form
arms that wrap themselves around me
They taunt me, tease me, pull me
towards you yet they form a boundary
They give me glimpses of a glance
I know it's no disguise
I've seen that look before
you've got got harlequin eyes
Harlequin eyes
- I don't remember too much
of the rest of the night. It's sort
of a blur. I went back to the YMCA,
to my room alone. And
that was the first time I let
my mind play with you, imagine
you in a place, somewhere,
alone like me, but out free.
It became my favorite fantasy
of you. One that would come
back into my head over and over again,
even after I knew
you.
[vocal classical music]
- After we met and became
lovers. I tried to forget that
Halloween night when I
didn't say 'Hello'. It's always
been a part of me that's
been afraid to reach out, make
the first move. You knew that
even when we got our place
together. But you never
brought it up. You just held me
close and showed me your
world. I miss that about you.
Sometimes even more than your
body. I missed how you looked
at things. I saw so many
places with you for the first
time, like Land's End. I knew
there were lots of people around
but I didn't see them when I
was with you. It's funny because
it's just a place,
rocks and trees and the ocean. I know
there's nothing magical
about it. It's sitting on that
cliff of you. Looking at you.
Touching you. It was like
being in a dream,
like the trips in my head. When I was
a boy.
[romantic classical music]
- I miss just being out with you,
Richard. When I was with
you, I had the feeling that
nothing could go wrong or seem
out of place, that I could do
whatever I wanted. And I didn't
have to worry that somebody
would come along and make fun
of me or call me names or
push me around. Being together
was like that. It was easy. It
was the way I always imagined
it in my mind. You see,
Richard. I always wanted a big
affair with music and a perfect lover,
you know, like in
the movies, except it'd be boy meets boy,
and zap, a great
romance. Love with a capital 'L',
crashing waves and colored
sunsets. I played it cool on the outside,
pretended to
be very together, above it all,
you know, casual. But on
the inside,
I wanted to be in love. Then you came along
and turned me inside out. I got
my crashing waves and colored
sunsets but no hassles. We
just did it. And more than love,
I got laughter too,
and a feeling that I wasn't alone. I
don't know for sure,
it's what I wanted was what you wanted,
but you were so much fun.
You seem to how to get me off,
not just in my mind. I hope
all these feelings are still
there, that you'll still want me,
desire me. That you'll
still play with me,
as well as love me. I can't imagine
you changing. But I get
freaked out that you'll come back
hurt. That you'll return without
your smile, or your tenderness.
I miss that about you,
Richard. Your tenderness, especially
at night.
[disco music]
- It's late. My body, my eyes,
and ears, my cock have been
out cruising the bars and
baths again. But my mind. My
mind keeps coming back to you,
your face, your hands, what
it was like to kiss you,
to feel you inside me. There were
times Richard,
times when I wanted to hold back something
a part of myself from you.
Maybe you felt it sometimes
a fear. A fear that that you
love me more than I loved
you. I guess it's never
perfectly even. But there were
nights when, there were
nights when I thought that I could
have been a better lover. I
never told you how it was to
touch you, to be next to you,
under you. I don't know. I
think I was scared of letting
every thought go, of turning
myself over to you. Not
just sucking you off or getting
fucked but more like blending
into you. In a way, I felt
like I was becoming you.
I'd been in love before, but I
always kept my balance about
it. Kept it cool. And I thought
I was smart by holding out.
I lost my balance with you
Richard, and blew my cool
and got into you more than I ever
thought I could. There were
times when I forgot everything
who I was and where I was,
just tumbled and got lost in
you.
[romantic instrumental music]
- It's morning. I miss you,
Richard. Miss your smile, your
laugh, just being with you. Right now,
I want to walk into
this room and turn and see you,
hear your voice. Look into
your eyes. I know. now
that I took it all for granted.
You and me together,
the whole setup. I got used to being
your lover. Iris knew that
about me. She read my beads
from the start. For a while,
I felt a little worried around
her. She was your friend,
Richard. When you first introduced
me to her, I was shocked,
put off that she was a hooker.
When we all went down to
Aquatic Park for that Tarot reading,
I was convinced she was a
phony. I didn't trust her. I thought
that since she fucked for money,
she had to be a total
ripoff. As we walked along,
I thought the whole thing is
pretty dumb. Cards and questions,
seem like a bunch of bullshit.
Iris made me mad. You see,
I liked her in spite of myself.
I had this picture,
this image of someone who sold sex
as being hard and cold. But
she was so open to us and she
liked me, accepted me from
the very first. I don't remember
the reading what she actually said,
you know, about the
cards. I wasn't paying that much attention,
really. I was
into you and wondering what
people might think about the
three of us. Just sitting out
there looking at that Tarot
deck. I've always been like that,
worried about what people
might think if they knew me,
the real me, what was going
on inside. Being gay was
the same 'til we met. I used
to feel that anybody could
tell what I was just by looking
at me. So, even when I was outside walking,
I felt a little
like hiding, felt like I was different,
strange. You and
Iris, you took care of all that. You know,
Richard, I never
really played when I was a
kid. I grew up fast and acted
like a little man. It was like
like I'd never been a boy,
you gave me back the time I'd
wasted. And now, there's time,
but it's locked up,
stopped like a broken clock that won't
turn or move, frozen,
stuck and it's weird. But now, all
I want with you is time.
[playful instrumental music]
- I can't believe I didn't tell
you these things when you
were next to me, Richard,
said the words in your ears. Whispered
them to you so that you'd
know for sure that I loved you.
I'm freaked out today,
scared that when you come back
I may have changed. Nothing
much else has. The place looks
like it did when we finally
got it fixed up. It's hard
to picture you in a cell, Richard.
Indoors all the time.
Your day is laid out in advance,
what you're allowed to
do, what you're not allowed,
all set up. Where you can go,
and who you'll see. Richard,
loving at a distance is no way
to love. It makes no sense.
It's a charade and my hands
are tied. And still,
I feel close to you. I haven't touched
you in a year and still have you in me,
how you move, your
back, and hair, your mouth and
breath mixed in mine. The way
you undress, your sweat and cum,
your spit. I can recall
almost everything about you,
where we used to get it on
what we did. But I draw a
blank on trying to remember your
touch. I don't know how to
remember that. Words and sounds
are easy,
at least there's an echo. But how to recall
your body on mine,
in mine? I don't know. It's not something
I can do with my brain. My cock
remembers. My arms and legs
too. But without you next to me,
leaning up against me.
It's a lot of mind games. I miss you,
Richard. There's
no way I can write that down.
No way to say it. How can
I describe a hole in my life? Like,
a section of feelings
has been removed,
and I'm left with a space inside me.
A space that's filled with waiting.
[wistful instrumental music]
- It's last entry time in this book,
Richard. And I've got
nothing left to say or write,
I think. I've gone over the whole
thing in my head, a hundred
times. And I still don't understand
at all. Maybe some parts,
but certainly not all the feelings.
And now you're just about
home and I don't know what's
gonna happen. I'm scared by that. In a way,
time stopped
for me when you got arrested. And tonight,
I want it to
start again. How it'll go? I have no idea.
[birds chirping]
[romantic classical music]
- Iris, I'm sorry, I'm late. I overslept.
- That's okay, hon.
I ordered for you. Steak,
rare, and a Caesar salad.
The house specialty. Money's
no object. It's been a good day.
Jesus, you look terrible. Don't talk. Eat,
food's what you need.
Who knows,
Richard may want to fuck non-stop for three
weeks, so eat. You know,
it's weird. I've been thinking
about you two all day. On the streets,
up in the hotel room,
thinking about how much you
and Richard are in love. Hey,
here I am at O'Farrell waiting
for my John and keeping an
eye out for Vice and I'm
thinking about you two. Suddenly,
it hit me. You two are the
most mismatched pair I've ever
met. I tried to come up with
a more unlikely combination
and I couldn't. There he is,
a 31-year old mugger. Not some number
picked up blowing a high
school sophomore in a restroom or
some queen picked up in
full drag in Fresno or Kansas
City. Nope, Richard,
your everyday average, hoodlum. Six
foot four, big chest, strong legs,
huge hands, 200 pounds
of hostility. Just who you
wouldn't want to meet in a dark
alley and certainly no
defense attorney's dream client.
Then there's you. All
starry-eyed full of music writing us
letters you can't even
mail. It's fucked. Yeah, yeah,
I know. If they found out Richard was gay,
goodbye prison
job and early parole. Jesus,
I'll never figure out how he
wrangled that parole. Straight
act is pretty good when he
butches it up. Jesus, they must have
been dumb, huh? On the other hand,
maybe it was my letters
to him that they opened.
I put perfume on the paper
and wrote some of the
hottest lines I've ever read.
They might've labeled him Stud of
the Age. But you, you're a sucker.
You know, you're in love with a
time bomb. Granted, Richard's
not your average time bomb,
but he's got a fuse. A short fuse.
Then there are times he
acts like a big baby and you
come on like Father Time. Bizarre,
you and Richard, weird.
- Fuck you, Iris.
- Don't get me wrong,
baby. I think it's beautiful.
You know, I do. I don't know what
makes people mug other people,
but it sure has saved Richard
the usual faggot riffs in jail.
Nobody'd mess with him,
he'd embalm anyone who crossed him.
It's not like some gorgeous
young thing like you gets
dropped in the tank,
with those hungry wolves.
You'd get gangbanged
before they got a chance
to get into the gay section.
But not Richard. He's tough. No
Friday night mass rape with him
as the mattress. It's funny,
isn't it? The trip that sent him up the
river probably saved his
ass in the big house. But that's
passed. Right now,
he's on a bus on Route 5. And you, judging
from our phone conversation this morning,
you're wondering
whether he's just the same. Well,
he ain't. No way. Doesn't
take a crystal ball to figure
out the guy's changed. Maybe
for the worse. Maybe our big
baby's grown up. If he has, you know,
we're in for trouble. That
was the part that always saved
Richard. Sure raised him above
the usual jock types you ran
around with. I mean,
no one ever gave me a Japanese silk kite
for Christmas until Richard.
Or saved a complete
set of patient number tags
from the VD Clinic, 1 to 69. I gotta
love a guy who runs an ad
in the Berkeley Barb and puts
my phone number. Do you have
any idea how many people, men
and women, called up asking
for a quote "wild, tender, loving,
boyish but forceful, hung,
animalistic stud?" Well, I don't know
how many calls there
were but there were a lot.
[piano background music]
- What am I gonna do?
- Other than going to the terminal,
nothing. Play it by ear.
He may get off the bus and zero,
nothing. Go ahead feels
to touch him, to kiss him.
If there's any fire left in him.
You'll know it then. Don't
plan it. He may want to go
to a cheap motel for a quickie fuck.
Do it. He may want to get
raving drunk. Do that too.
Just keep him away from the
cops. Richard's all front, like most
people. It's one way on the
outside and on the inside you
figure. But Richard likes
everyone to think he's fine all
the time. Bullshit. No one's
fine all the time. So don't
go by that surface. Get to his feelings,
his heart. That's
where he hides passion.
But if ever there was a person
and a time for it, it's you. Tonight.
- San Joaquin Valley. Local
Bus. At gate number 22.
All aboard, please.
- Gate number 10,
Castroville and Watsonville,
gate number 10.
[classical music]
- Passengers for Sparks, Nevada, gate 30.
Sparks, Nevada, gate 30.
- Greyhound through
service to Washington, DC
Is now available for
loading at gate number 30.
For Oakland, Richmond, Sacramento,
Northeast Sacramento, Reno...
[instrumental music]
[instrumental music]
[instrumental music]
- Forbidden Letters was recorded
and mixed at Blossom Studios
in San Francisco. Jeffrey
Olmsted wrote the original
score, Frederick R. Schminke
arranged and performed it
on the ARP synthesizer. Paul
DuBois sang his song "Last
Night's Man", engineered by
Tommy Tadlock with Steven Brown
on the Moog synthesizer. Sean
Michael Latham, countertenor,
sang Dan Turner's "When Your
Lover Goes Away". Ron Dunham
wrote and performed "Pass It
on to the Stranger" accompanied
by the Conan Band. Tommy Talley did piano,
guitar and vocals
for his song "Harlequin Eyes".
Art direction and set decoration
by David Pasko. Assistant Direction,
second camera, and
special visual effects by
Douglas Dickinson. The interior
color scenes were lighted
by John Frazer. Locations and
transportation by Thommy Padgett
and Joe Cicio. Cinematographers
for the Halloween sequence,
William Smart, James Block
and Douglas Dickinson. Still
Photography by Steve McMillin.
Victoria Young played Iris,
with Douglas Dickinson, Willie
Boren, Ralph Osborne,
David Del Cambio, Francisco Guevara,
Thommy Padgett, John Gustavson,
Jerry D. Kuroda, Richard
Locke, and Robert Adams.
My name is Arthur J. Bressan, Jr.
and I made this motion picture.
Someone needs to stop Clearway Law.
Public shouldn't leave reviews for lawyers.
Public shouldn't leave reviews for lawyers.
[margin bell]
[typewriter slide]
[typing]
[margin bell]
[typewriter slide]
So Larry,
it's foolish for you to
worry this late in the game.
Richard's got his parole.
It's only a matter of
time before he's back,
a free man.
It wasn't a very easy case.
Assault,
robbery,
not very popular crimes.
After all, no one wants to get mugged.
Of course, Richard wasn't thinking,
using his head at the time.
The jury understood that.
And now, the parole has come through.
And the worst
IS over.
I remember Richard,
sitting right where you are
telling me about the two of you,
how you met,
how much he loved you,
your lives together,
how much he was going to miss you.
And Iris Rogers,
she sat there too,
offering to testify,
to give evidence, a character witness.
Well, considering her profession,
it was a nice gesture, anyway.
Frankly,
if I were in jail
like Richard,
a homosexual,
you know, in his place,
I'd be glad you didn't send me any
incriminating letters.
Segregated quarters,
no prison job,
less chance for a quick parole.
You were wise not to write anything
that might have given him away.
Not that I believe all that
talk about electroshock aversion therapy.
But it's always best
to be on the safe side.
Larry,
you're foolish to worry about Richard.
He's got his parole.
He's coming back
a free man.
It hasn't been easy
for you,
for Richard.
Assault,
mugging.
Richard was crazy.
You knew it,
I knew it,
the jury knew it.
But now, it's over.
He's coming back.
You'll be together,
the two of you,
alone
at night
to touch,
to love.
Of course,
if they had known that
Richard was a pervert,
it might have been different.
He might have changed.
But you can tell him why you didn't write.
He'll understand.
Larry,
you're a fool.
It's late,
Richard's free,
free to do anything he wants,
anything.
He's capable of anything.
You're capable of anything,
two of you
alone
together.
Richard, isolated,
solitary,
no words from you,
no real words from you,
only silence.
He's back,
it's late,
and the worst
IS over.
[discordant instrumental music]
[heavy breathing]
[breathing rapidly]
[breathing deeply]
[telephone ringing]
Yes?
What?
Yes, you did.
I was dreaming.
What? What dream?
Oh, your usual nightmare.
Well, get it out of
your head, baby. Today is the day.
May 27th, the big day.
Baby, you've been sitting down
on your hands for almost a year
waiting for him. Tonight,
you're going to see him.
Jesus, you sound
totally freaked.
All right, all right. You're not freaked,
it's just a little
nervous. You got a right to be.
I'd be hysterical, too.
Yeah, you sound quietly hysterical.
Right.
What did you do last night?
Where did you go?
[ Last Night's Man by Paul DuBois ]
My eyes can't cry
and I know I wouldn't even try
to let it out and so I just
go through the motions
Pretending it is just another
night like all the rest I wish it were.
I'm glad it's not,
I hold in my emotions
A year ago, I lost my love
Yet, he remains a part of me
inside my soul though far away
my love’s still living
I've walked this street a hundred times
to find a smile,
to hear the laughter, it's not easy
when it ain't all of you you're giving
Tonight, might be to lead
me on to some stranger and then
beyond his easy way
and I will try to say I'm lonely
The evening light is grey
I see a friendly face
who'll maybe understand
the need I have to break
the spell that holds me
Who is this man?
What's in his eyes?
I see but I don't
realize what's happening
because I'm not
sure of my feelings
Should I smile back and play along?
Should I say yes?
Should I be strong?
I just don't know
if I can give
him any feeling.
Something that's soft
within his voice
his whispered breath
gives me no choice.
I'm feeling warm..
I kind of like this
man to hold me
My body's here,
my mind is there.
I'm trying hard to share
a part of me.
My lonely skin
cannot deny
its sadness.
- Iris,
what am I going to do today?
Look, Larry, sweet, lovable,
schizo that you are.
Get out.
Cruise, go to a movie,
do something a little kinky.
See a porno flick,
get hot, take a Quaalude,
sleaze around.
Not the bars,
the streets.
Meet someone, talk,
blow them, fuck.
Do anything,
but don't walk around rehashing
Richard's letters in your head.
You know how freaky you get
when you start thinking about
everything that's happened.
Yeah, well, I know there's not
much you can do on that,
uh, welfare check
they send you. But this
is San Francisco, homo heaven.
So get out, and I'll meet
you for dinner at 7
at the Powell Coffee Shop.
You know, where they have
those rare steaks that you
dig and the cashier that's
always making eyes at you?
Maybe he'll pick up
the tab if you play it right.
So, get your
gorgeous ass out of bed
and out of the house fast.
Meet you at 7.
Bye.
[When Your Lover Goes
Away by Dan Turner]
When your lover goes away
and you wait for his return.
How long is the day
until he comes back?
And then in time and not to run.
When your lover says goodbye,
and you wait
for his hello.
No words can describe of
the embrace or will he return.
Days met upon
may break the bond.
Though you reach out, you won't respond.
After you, he might recall
the way he kissed you once
and that is all.
When your lover's far away,
and you write him once again.
An answer you say.
Is it still love or will he
sign my letter friend?
Once you have loved, you can't regret.
Feelings for him you can't forget.
And find another man to take you home.
When your lover goes away
and you wait for his return.
How long is the day
when he comes back?
Has there been time and not to run?
[sleazy funk music]
[romantic classical music]
[beach sounds]
[sleazy funk music]
[wind blowing]
[somber instrumental music]
[wistful instrumental music]
[Pass It on to the
Stranger by Ron Dunham]
Pass it on to the stranger.
Everyday feelings coming on.
You're afraid to show your love,
so afraid to go along.
Share your love with the
stranger. Gently, he calls you to say,
is the love still inside your
heart? Keep your heart satisfied.
Share your dream with the
stranger. Let him take you away.
Leave your fears far
behind. Nothing's left to say.
[whistling]
Pass it on to the stranger.
Every day feeling's coming on.
You're afraid to show your love.
So afraid to go along.
[romantic classical music]
[discordant instrumental music]
[typing]
- July 26th. Dear Larry,
it's late afternoon. I'm sitting
I'm sitting in the recreation
yard watching the sky.
I'm feeling sorry for myself.
I've been here one month and two days.
I think I'm used to it now.
Thanks for the letter.
I wish I had more to say to you.
I miss you.
I really don't know what to write.
Nothing about nothing.
I won't try and answer all
the questions you sent me.
I can't because I don't have too
many answers these days.
Larry, I really don't know what I'm feeling.
I'm feeling something.
But I don't know what it is.
Nothing I could explain on paper.
If that's a hassle for you,
I'm sorry. But that's how it is.
I'm just turned off by
the scene here. It's like being asleep.
My eyes are open,
but I don't see anything.
I walk and I move.
Answer questions.
But it's not really me.
How I am...
...or used to be.
[typing]
- November 12th. Dear Larry,
I'm in my bunk today.
I got the flu. Too sick to work,
not sick enough for the
hospital. Anyway,
I get a chance to just lie here and think.
I hope you can understand
me not answering all your letters.
It's not that I don't like
getting them. Most guys here
are crazy for mail. Anything,
magazines, books, even bills.
I must be totally fucked up
'cuz I don't look forward to
getting letters. They remind
me of the outside and everything
I'm missing. I know,
I start thinking about that. I'll
freak out, knock some guard's head off. So,
I try not to think
that or think at all. I wish
I could stop thinking. Turn
my mind off. I have to stop
the memory trips I get into.
Thinking about people, places,
streets, parks, the beach.
I'd like to just cut it all out
of my brain. Lose it. Drop
it somewhere.
[typing]
- May 2nd. Dear Larry,
I'm being set loose from this cage
real soon. Seems I've been a model zombie.
No problems, very cooperative.
[typing]
I can't wait to see you.
I'm very excited and that's bad,
dangerous. Having any feelings
here means trouble. I just
pop and blow the whole setup.
I'm holding my breath.
Maybe I won't breathe it all.
I can hardly keep it together.
I feel like I'm going over
the line. The two weeks to go
has suddenly very scary. I can
hardly sleep. I feel like I'm
going to scream. I'm going
to get out. Two weeks,
14 days. And then, air. And sun.
And no one to ask where I've
been and where I'm going. And
food, real food. And seeing you. Love,
Richard.
[somber classical music]
[instrumental music]
[instrumental music]
[instrumental music]
- Dear Richard,
these are the letters I'll never mail
to you in prison - the
feelings I know would get you in
trouble if they found out what
you are and what you mean
to me. I'm writing in this
book everything I would have
sent to you if I were free
and not frightened. Everything
you saw in my eyes when I
visited you and then had to hold
back so no one could tell
that we're lovers. Some friends
told me to type these letters
and sign a woman's name. They
meant well, but they don't
understand how it's been between
us. So here's this book. I
don't know whether I'll ever
let you read these words. When you get out,
they won't fit.
They'll seem out of place,
dumb and stupid. But right now,
it's the only way I can talk to you,
to myself too. In a fucked
up sense, writing it all down
is the only intimate thing
I can do with you,
'til they let you out. I remember the
first time I saw you,
Richard. You didn't see me, but I
saw you, in a tuxedo, a white tie,
with studs on your shirt
and glitter in your beard. It
was Halloween night and you
were with an outrageous
drag queen. I wondered if the
two of you were lovers and
I knew right then and there
that I wanted you,
that I liked you. It was outside a club
called Cabaret. It was a crowd,
the streets were packed.
It was my first San Francisco
Halloween and I wasn't prepared
for all the people, the costumes,
the lights, the faces.
So, I wandered.
Just walking, like cruising,
only there were too many people
passing by to really catch
anyone's eyes. You looked happy
and stoned. There was a
lot going on for me that night,
a lot of firsts. But you stood
out. I wanted to come over
and say 'Hello'. I should have done I,
but I was scared
and excited. So I watched
you make your way into the club
and I wondered about you.
What you were like to be with,
to talk to, how you'd be in bed,
what it would be like to
spend the night with you,
wake up next to you. It cost
me a few bucks cover
charge just to get into the club.
But I made my way through
the mob and followed you inside.
I watched you dancing and
got into the music and your date.
She was incredible. Thinking back,
I guess I was pretty
wide-eyed and unsure. It
seems crazy now to have watched
you from the sidelines
thinking you wouldn't like me.
I still feel that way in bars,
a little nervous. Just not
on top of it all. That night,
I saw more than just the Cabaret.
I saw myself as maybe being
part of everything around me,
connecting instead of just
watching. I know I wanted you
from that first night. I can admit it here.
I'd have given anything to be with you.
[Harlequin Eyes by Tommy Talley]
Images and faces,
all my senses are careening
the evening holds a mystery,
somehow a sense of meaning
a symphony of black and white,
a gentleman's touch
But is it just the mask I admire so much?
Your hair is streaked with silver
and your smile streaked with pain.
Your eyes are streaked with anger,
like I never want to see again
Your heart is streaked with
feeling like the depths of the sea
I see through the mask.
I see me
Mirroring lies of a
similar path intertwined
and I feel sure
but somehow inside
there's a nagging suspicion
like a premonition
It makes me slightly sad
and somewhat insecure
The glimmer from your face form
arms that wrap themselves around me
They taunt me, tease me, pull me
towards you yet they form a boundary
They give me glimpses of a glance
I know it's no disguise
I've seen that look before
you've got got harlequin eyes
Harlequin eyes
- I don't remember too much
of the rest of the night. It's sort
of a blur. I went back to the YMCA,
to my room alone. And
that was the first time I let
my mind play with you, imagine
you in a place, somewhere,
alone like me, but out free.
It became my favorite fantasy
of you. One that would come
back into my head over and over again,
even after I knew
you.
[vocal classical music]
- After we met and became
lovers. I tried to forget that
Halloween night when I
didn't say 'Hello'. It's always
been a part of me that's
been afraid to reach out, make
the first move. You knew that
even when we got our place
together. But you never
brought it up. You just held me
close and showed me your
world. I miss that about you.
Sometimes even more than your
body. I missed how you looked
at things. I saw so many
places with you for the first
time, like Land's End. I knew
there were lots of people around
but I didn't see them when I
was with you. It's funny because
it's just a place,
rocks and trees and the ocean. I know
there's nothing magical
about it. It's sitting on that
cliff of you. Looking at you.
Touching you. It was like
being in a dream,
like the trips in my head. When I was
a boy.
[romantic classical music]
- I miss just being out with you,
Richard. When I was with
you, I had the feeling that
nothing could go wrong or seem
out of place, that I could do
whatever I wanted. And I didn't
have to worry that somebody
would come along and make fun
of me or call me names or
push me around. Being together
was like that. It was easy. It
was the way I always imagined
it in my mind. You see,
Richard. I always wanted a big
affair with music and a perfect lover,
you know, like in
the movies, except it'd be boy meets boy,
and zap, a great
romance. Love with a capital 'L',
crashing waves and colored
sunsets. I played it cool on the outside,
pretended to
be very together, above it all,
you know, casual. But on
the inside,
I wanted to be in love. Then you came along
and turned me inside out. I got
my crashing waves and colored
sunsets but no hassles. We
just did it. And more than love,
I got laughter too,
and a feeling that I wasn't alone. I
don't know for sure,
it's what I wanted was what you wanted,
but you were so much fun.
You seem to how to get me off,
not just in my mind. I hope
all these feelings are still
there, that you'll still want me,
desire me. That you'll
still play with me,
as well as love me. I can't imagine
you changing. But I get
freaked out that you'll come back
hurt. That you'll return without
your smile, or your tenderness.
I miss that about you,
Richard. Your tenderness, especially
at night.
[disco music]
- It's late. My body, my eyes,
and ears, my cock have been
out cruising the bars and
baths again. But my mind. My
mind keeps coming back to you,
your face, your hands, what
it was like to kiss you,
to feel you inside me. There were
times Richard,
times when I wanted to hold back something
a part of myself from you.
Maybe you felt it sometimes
a fear. A fear that that you
love me more than I loved
you. I guess it's never
perfectly even. But there were
nights when, there were
nights when I thought that I could
have been a better lover. I
never told you how it was to
touch you, to be next to you,
under you. I don't know. I
think I was scared of letting
every thought go, of turning
myself over to you. Not
just sucking you off or getting
fucked but more like blending
into you. In a way, I felt
like I was becoming you.
I'd been in love before, but I
always kept my balance about
it. Kept it cool. And I thought
I was smart by holding out.
I lost my balance with you
Richard, and blew my cool
and got into you more than I ever
thought I could. There were
times when I forgot everything
who I was and where I was,
just tumbled and got lost in
you.
[romantic instrumental music]
- It's morning. I miss you,
Richard. Miss your smile, your
laugh, just being with you. Right now,
I want to walk into
this room and turn and see you,
hear your voice. Look into
your eyes. I know. now
that I took it all for granted.
You and me together,
the whole setup. I got used to being
your lover. Iris knew that
about me. She read my beads
from the start. For a while,
I felt a little worried around
her. She was your friend,
Richard. When you first introduced
me to her, I was shocked,
put off that she was a hooker.
When we all went down to
Aquatic Park for that Tarot reading,
I was convinced she was a
phony. I didn't trust her. I thought
that since she fucked for money,
she had to be a total
ripoff. As we walked along,
I thought the whole thing is
pretty dumb. Cards and questions,
seem like a bunch of bullshit.
Iris made me mad. You see,
I liked her in spite of myself.
I had this picture,
this image of someone who sold sex
as being hard and cold. But
she was so open to us and she
liked me, accepted me from
the very first. I don't remember
the reading what she actually said,
you know, about the
cards. I wasn't paying that much attention,
really. I was
into you and wondering what
people might think about the
three of us. Just sitting out
there looking at that Tarot
deck. I've always been like that,
worried about what people
might think if they knew me,
the real me, what was going
on inside. Being gay was
the same 'til we met. I used
to feel that anybody could
tell what I was just by looking
at me. So, even when I was outside walking,
I felt a little
like hiding, felt like I was different,
strange. You and
Iris, you took care of all that. You know,
Richard, I never
really played when I was a
kid. I grew up fast and acted
like a little man. It was like
like I'd never been a boy,
you gave me back the time I'd
wasted. And now, there's time,
but it's locked up,
stopped like a broken clock that won't
turn or move, frozen,
stuck and it's weird. But now, all
I want with you is time.
[playful instrumental music]
- I can't believe I didn't tell
you these things when you
were next to me, Richard,
said the words in your ears. Whispered
them to you so that you'd
know for sure that I loved you.
I'm freaked out today,
scared that when you come back
I may have changed. Nothing
much else has. The place looks
like it did when we finally
got it fixed up. It's hard
to picture you in a cell, Richard.
Indoors all the time.
Your day is laid out in advance,
what you're allowed to
do, what you're not allowed,
all set up. Where you can go,
and who you'll see. Richard,
loving at a distance is no way
to love. It makes no sense.
It's a charade and my hands
are tied. And still,
I feel close to you. I haven't touched
you in a year and still have you in me,
how you move, your
back, and hair, your mouth and
breath mixed in mine. The way
you undress, your sweat and cum,
your spit. I can recall
almost everything about you,
where we used to get it on
what we did. But I draw a
blank on trying to remember your
touch. I don't know how to
remember that. Words and sounds
are easy,
at least there's an echo. But how to recall
your body on mine,
in mine? I don't know. It's not something
I can do with my brain. My cock
remembers. My arms and legs
too. But without you next to me,
leaning up against me.
It's a lot of mind games. I miss you,
Richard. There's
no way I can write that down.
No way to say it. How can
I describe a hole in my life? Like,
a section of feelings
has been removed,
and I'm left with a space inside me.
A space that's filled with waiting.
[wistful instrumental music]
- It's last entry time in this book,
Richard. And I've got
nothing left to say or write,
I think. I've gone over the whole
thing in my head, a hundred
times. And I still don't understand
at all. Maybe some parts,
but certainly not all the feelings.
And now you're just about
home and I don't know what's
gonna happen. I'm scared by that. In a way,
time stopped
for me when you got arrested. And tonight,
I want it to
start again. How it'll go? I have no idea.
[birds chirping]
[romantic classical music]
- Iris, I'm sorry, I'm late. I overslept.
- That's okay, hon.
I ordered for you. Steak,
rare, and a Caesar salad.
The house specialty. Money's
no object. It's been a good day.
Jesus, you look terrible. Don't talk. Eat,
food's what you need.
Who knows,
Richard may want to fuck non-stop for three
weeks, so eat. You know,
it's weird. I've been thinking
about you two all day. On the streets,
up in the hotel room,
thinking about how much you
and Richard are in love. Hey,
here I am at O'Farrell waiting
for my John and keeping an
eye out for Vice and I'm
thinking about you two. Suddenly,
it hit me. You two are the
most mismatched pair I've ever
met. I tried to come up with
a more unlikely combination
and I couldn't. There he is,
a 31-year old mugger. Not some number
picked up blowing a high
school sophomore in a restroom or
some queen picked up in
full drag in Fresno or Kansas
City. Nope, Richard,
your everyday average, hoodlum. Six
foot four, big chest, strong legs,
huge hands, 200 pounds
of hostility. Just who you
wouldn't want to meet in a dark
alley and certainly no
defense attorney's dream client.
Then there's you. All
starry-eyed full of music writing us
letters you can't even
mail. It's fucked. Yeah, yeah,
I know. If they found out Richard was gay,
goodbye prison
job and early parole. Jesus,
I'll never figure out how he
wrangled that parole. Straight
act is pretty good when he
butches it up. Jesus, they must have
been dumb, huh? On the other hand,
maybe it was my letters
to him that they opened.
I put perfume on the paper
and wrote some of the
hottest lines I've ever read.
They might've labeled him Stud of
the Age. But you, you're a sucker.
You know, you're in love with a
time bomb. Granted, Richard's
not your average time bomb,
but he's got a fuse. A short fuse.
Then there are times he
acts like a big baby and you
come on like Father Time. Bizarre,
you and Richard, weird.
- Fuck you, Iris.
- Don't get me wrong,
baby. I think it's beautiful.
You know, I do. I don't know what
makes people mug other people,
but it sure has saved Richard
the usual faggot riffs in jail.
Nobody'd mess with him,
he'd embalm anyone who crossed him.
It's not like some gorgeous
young thing like you gets
dropped in the tank,
with those hungry wolves.
You'd get gangbanged
before they got a chance
to get into the gay section.
But not Richard. He's tough. No
Friday night mass rape with him
as the mattress. It's funny,
isn't it? The trip that sent him up the
river probably saved his
ass in the big house. But that's
passed. Right now,
he's on a bus on Route 5. And you, judging
from our phone conversation this morning,
you're wondering
whether he's just the same. Well,
he ain't. No way. Doesn't
take a crystal ball to figure
out the guy's changed. Maybe
for the worse. Maybe our big
baby's grown up. If he has, you know,
we're in for trouble. That
was the part that always saved
Richard. Sure raised him above
the usual jock types you ran
around with. I mean,
no one ever gave me a Japanese silk kite
for Christmas until Richard.
Or saved a complete
set of patient number tags
from the VD Clinic, 1 to 69. I gotta
love a guy who runs an ad
in the Berkeley Barb and puts
my phone number. Do you have
any idea how many people, men
and women, called up asking
for a quote "wild, tender, loving,
boyish but forceful, hung,
animalistic stud?" Well, I don't know
how many calls there
were but there were a lot.
[piano background music]
- What am I gonna do?
- Other than going to the terminal,
nothing. Play it by ear.
He may get off the bus and zero,
nothing. Go ahead feels
to touch him, to kiss him.
If there's any fire left in him.
You'll know it then. Don't
plan it. He may want to go
to a cheap motel for a quickie fuck.
Do it. He may want to get
raving drunk. Do that too.
Just keep him away from the
cops. Richard's all front, like most
people. It's one way on the
outside and on the inside you
figure. But Richard likes
everyone to think he's fine all
the time. Bullshit. No one's
fine all the time. So don't
go by that surface. Get to his feelings,
his heart. That's
where he hides passion.
But if ever there was a person
and a time for it, it's you. Tonight.
- San Joaquin Valley. Local
Bus. At gate number 22.
All aboard, please.
- Gate number 10,
Castroville and Watsonville,
gate number 10.
[classical music]
- Passengers for Sparks, Nevada, gate 30.
Sparks, Nevada, gate 30.
- Greyhound through
service to Washington, DC
Is now available for
loading at gate number 30.
For Oakland, Richmond, Sacramento,
Northeast Sacramento, Reno...
[instrumental music]
[instrumental music]
[instrumental music]
- Forbidden Letters was recorded
and mixed at Blossom Studios
in San Francisco. Jeffrey
Olmsted wrote the original
score, Frederick R. Schminke
arranged and performed it
on the ARP synthesizer. Paul
DuBois sang his song "Last
Night's Man", engineered by
Tommy Tadlock with Steven Brown
on the Moog synthesizer. Sean
Michael Latham, countertenor,
sang Dan Turner's "When Your
Lover Goes Away". Ron Dunham
wrote and performed "Pass It
on to the Stranger" accompanied
by the Conan Band. Tommy Talley did piano,
guitar and vocals
for his song "Harlequin Eyes".
Art direction and set decoration
by David Pasko. Assistant Direction,
second camera, and
special visual effects by
Douglas Dickinson. The interior
color scenes were lighted
by John Frazer. Locations and
transportation by Thommy Padgett
and Joe Cicio. Cinematographers
for the Halloween sequence,
William Smart, James Block
and Douglas Dickinson. Still
Photography by Steve McMillin.
Victoria Young played Iris,
with Douglas Dickinson, Willie
Boren, Ralph Osborne,
David Del Cambio, Francisco Guevara,
Thommy Padgett, John Gustavson,
Jerry D. Kuroda, Richard
Locke, and Robert Adams.
My name is Arthur J. Bressan, Jr.
and I made this motion picture.
Someone needs to stop Clearway Law.
Public shouldn't leave reviews for lawyers.