White Hunter Black Heart (1990) - full transcript
The world famous movie director John Wilson has gone to Africa to make his next movie. He is an obstinate, contrary director who'd rather hunt elephants than takes care of his crew or movie. He has become obsessed with one particular elephant and cares for nothing else.
John Wilson. A violent man
given to violent action.
Some ascribed his wild
and troubled life to
his personal mania for
self-destruction.
These generalisations always
seemed inaccurate to me.
That's why I had to write
all this about John.
A brilliant, screw-you-all
type film-maker...
who continually violated
all the unwritten
laws of the motion
picture business...
yet had the magic, almost divine
ability to always
land on his feet.
Mr Verrill? Hello,
I'm Miss Wilding.
- How are you?
- Did you have a good flight?
- Wonderful. Thank you.
- Mr Wilson is expecting you.
- How was Switzerland?
- Switzerland? Fine.
Eggerton Gardens, please.
Yes, ma'am.
- I thought he was at Claridge's.
- He was.
He's got a house now.
One of his society friends
loaned it to him.
You know what John is.
I mean, Mr Wilson.
Hello, George. This is Mr
Verrill. Is Mr Wilson up yet?
Oh, yes. He's been up
hours. Been riding.
He's having his breakfast now.
Come in.
Mr Verrill is here, Mr Wilson.
- Pete.
- Johnny.
For God's sake.
- How the hell are you?
- All right.
Well, you're looking good, kid.
- What have you been up to?
- Skiing and sitting in the sun.
Isn't that swell?
- I missed you, kid.
- I missed you too, John.
- Same old Pete.
- Yeah.
- Care for some coffee?
- I'm fine.
- This is some joint you got.
- Isn't it?
Did you get a load
of the living room?
Did I ever.
Isn't it the most hideous
thing? I'm crazy about it.
Miss Wilding, you can get the hell
out of here. There's
no work today.
Well, what do you
think of this outfit?
Hey, that's some getup
you got there, Johnny.
Of course it is.
Now, what about you?
What about the book?
I didn't get very much
done on the book.
Why? Or would you prefer
not to talk about it?
I don't mind. I just
couldn't get started.
An then when I did, I got
hooked up with some dame.
- Hell, isn't it?
- It sure is.
And once it's over,
you can't figure out
why it all seemed
so damn important.
There's nothing tougher
than trying to remember...
why you chased a dame
once you've had her.
Yeah, I'll say. And I didn't get
much skiing done because of her.
Well, that's a shame.
I think I've got
the cure for that, though: Africa.
You come down there with me
and you work on this script.
You really think
that's gonna help me?
Even if it doesn't,
you've got to do it.
There are times when you
can't wonder whether
it's the right or
wrong thing to do.
Not for guys like you and me, kid.
You just gotta pack up and go.
I gotta get started on this book.
If you didn't write it
before, you weren't ready.
- You think so?
- I know so.
Well, when do you plan on leaving?
In a week or 10 days.
We'll work here and
then we'll get our
shots and take off.
And who's gonna be
in this picture?
We have Phil Duncan
and Kay Gibson.
That's good. How long are you
planning on staying there?
Oh, four or five months. Long
enough to make a picture.
- And have ourselves a safari.
- Safari?
Yeah, haven't you ever
wanted to shoot an elephant?
- No, I don't think so, John.
- Well, a lion or a buffalo.
This is a safari,
kid. The real thing.
- Who's gonna pay for all this?
- Don't worry.
What's your financial situation?
- It remains unchanged.
- So you're broke?
Depends on what you call broke.
I owe a quarter million.
- Quarter of a million?
- Closer to 300,000.
$300,000, John, and
you're not worried?
I think about it now and then.
- Do you see a way out?
- This picture.
Now do you see why I
want to go to Africa?
I've got nothing
else to lose. Even
if a lion or a buffalo gets me...
my last minute on earth
will be a happy one.
I'll just think of
my creditors when
they find out I've
been eaten alive...
and it'll all seem worthwhile.
Okay, okay, John.
How about a script?
There's one around here somewhere.
We don't have a title yet.
It's called African Trader
or African something.
Miss Wilding?
Where's a copy of that
goddamned script?
I haven't seen it, John.
Then find it. What
kind of a secretary
are you? What do you do all day?
I've been typing your letters
and answering the telephone.
- Balls.
- I have.
You were competent when
you first got here.
Now you just hang around all
day spying for Paul Landers.
It's not true. I don't spy for
anybody. Especially Mr Landers.
Find the script, then.
We have a meeting with Landers
and his money men in an hour.
Right.
- Paul Landers is producing this?
- That's right.
And you know why I agreed
to work with him again?
No.
Because it's the
wrong thing to do.
- I'm so glad to see you, Pete.
- It's good to see you, Paul.
- You can save all our lives.
- How's that?
The monster. I think
he's losing his mind.
He's in fine shape.
You've only been
with him half a day.
You don't know what
he's been like.
He's almost killed
the deal five times.
The only reason it's still
alive is because of me.
- He wants to go to Africa.
- Paul, how the hell are you?
Johnny boy. Did you have a
good day? Get a lot done?
Hell, no. But Pete and I
did have a nice chat.
- What do you think of the script?
- I haven't read it yet.
- I think it's awfully good.
- You do?
Well, it's a shame you don't
know a damn thing about it.
- You see?
- He's always been like that.
No, he's worse. He's insane.
In a well-ordered society, he'd
be in a straitjacket right now.
Where the question of colour is
concerned, it's an extra expense.
As far as I'm concerned,
of questionable value.
- I quite agree.
- Well, I don't.
Colour's worth a million
dollars at the box office.
Well, that's not important.
What I'm trying to
find out from Basil is
how much colour complicates
our operation.
Well, I'm afraid it does, John.
The camera is much heavier. There
are many more lighting problems.
I'm telling you,
colour is essential
to the success of this venture.
I'm not concerned with the success
of the venture at this moment.
I just don't want
to get bogged down.
- Bogged down?
- Bogged down?
Yes, I know how easy
it is to get bogged
down with a company on location.
Have you ever been
bogged down, John?
- No.
- Then why bring it up?
I think it's a very valid point.
Well, I don't.
Well, of course you don't, Paul.
Because while we're in Africa,
sweating and killing ourselves...
you'll be in Paris
sending out memos.
That's not true. I'll be
there in Africa with you.
Like hell you will.
If the picture was shot
in a river in England,
and the second unit
sent out to Africa...
then the risk of using colour
would be greatly minimised.
That would be with
some other director.
We have already discussed that.
Oh, we have, have we?
John, could I talk to you in
the bedroom for a moment?
What's this bullshit
about another director?
You know I wouldn't
do that to you.
You'd sell your mother down
the river to make a deal.
What the hell is the
matter with you,
John? Do you want to
kill this project?
No. No, I don't.
Then why bring up the
possibility of bogging
down? You scared the
bejesus out of them.
Then telling them that
you'd quit if the
picture wasn't made
in Africa. Good God.
If one frame of this picture is
shot in England, I will quit.
But it won't be.
But you discussed it behind
my back, you son of a bitch.
I didn't mention it
because there isn't
a chance it could
be done that way.
You'll guarantee that, I suppose?
Yes, goddamn it. I guarantee it.
Well, your guarantee doesn't
mean a damn thing to me.
I'm not gonna make some fake,
crappy mess just to please you.
So I don't care if
this picture's shot
in black and white
or sepia tone...
or we have to make the whole
damn thing in animation.
Pete and I are going to Africa.
What's the effective
range of this thing?
About 100 yards,
sir. Not much more.
That's plenty for your
buff and your elephant.
They kill them at 20 yards, kid.
Well, even closer than that
sometimes, so they tell me.
Of course, I've never been
to Africa, but this man has.
Makes for invaluable reading.
John Taylor. Big Game
and Big Game Rifles.
We'll need two of these.
We'll take two of these
rifles right here...
and two of the smaller
ones, the Mannlichers 256.
And that's to shoot for
the pot, so to speak.
And then one 12-gauge shotgun.
Always a useful thing
to have along, sir.
And cartridges, of course.
How many rounds, sir?
Two hundred. Two
hundred per weapon.
Planning to be away
quite a while, sir.
Yes.
And Sunrise Films will
send you the check.
John. Be careful.
Irene. For God's sake,
what are you doing here?
You told me to meet you here.
We had an appointment.
Drinks and dinner.
- I dressed.
- Yes.
Well, it plain slipped
my mind. Irene
Saunders, this is Pete Verrill.
Hello.
I admired your last
book enormously.
I'm a writer too.
John's promised to
listen to an idea
I had for a film this evening.
I do hope you'll join us.
You can give me a few pointers.
One writer to another.
It's about a dog. A puppy
dog. He's the hero, the star.
Imagine, John, over the opening
credits, we'll see Horace.
Wonderful, adorable dissolves of
Horace. In close-up. In long shot.
Now, this is the part of the
script I'm not sure about.
The censors might cut it. It turns
out that Horace is in heat.
Horace?
It's a story of mistaken identity.
You see, Horace has a twin. A
bitch. She's called Geraldine.
Now, it's she that's in heat.
Isn't that a wonderful switch?
We'll cut from the Hyde
Park sequence, John,
to an early-morning
shot of the river.
The river.
Horace is alone now.
We dolly with him as
he trots slowly down
a deserted street.
- He turns into Grosvenor...
- What are you doing here?
I have found a copy of the script.
I hope you like it
as much as I do.
I'm sure I will.
Peter. Please.
You must hear the ending.
Horace is all alone. Now,
we'll dolly with him
as he trots slowly down
a deserted street.
Now, from another angle...
Geraldine can be seen
coming down Brook Street.
She passes Claridge's, then
she enters the square.
Suddenly, they see each other.
Horace and Geraldine.
There isn't a human
being in sight. They
race toward each other.
The music swells.
Now, we hold the final picture
in an extreme long shot...
as they meet...
turn...
and go off together.
They've only just begun to live.
Well, that's the end.
They find each other.
Well, isn't that something?
Isn't that something?
Do you really like it?
Well, darling, it's swell.
Come on, we'll talk some more.
Pete.
If there's half as much love in
this old gal as there is talk...
I may be dead in the morning.
Hey, Johnny.
- Morning.
- Morning.
You look like you've been
run through the wringer.
Just part of me.
What's happening, kid? What
do you think of the script?
Well, I'll tell you
the truth. I like it.
- I like it a lot.
- Good.
It's original, it's
exciting and it's moving.
I just have one little
problem with it.
The ending.
You don't like the ending?
No, I didn't say I
don't like the ending.
I'm just not sure that
it's the right one.
Let me put it in Hollywood terms.
I think it's too downbeat.
After everything these
two have gone through:
They fought the river, tropical
storms, the Germans...
And just when you've
set the audience
up for a wonderfully
comic ending...
you blow the ship up
and kill everybody.
Well, Pete, there's an old saying:
"God makes a man
before he kills him."
I've heard it, John.
I've heard it. But
I don't think it
applies in this case.
You're beating the audience
over the head, John.
People don't go to see
pictures to be lectured to.
Tell me, Pete. Do you own a
percentage of this film?
No.
Then why are you so concerned
about the damn audience?
Because we're in
show business, John.
Not me. And not you, either,
when we work together.
You see, we're gods, Pete.
Lousy little gods who control the
lives of the people we create.
We sit up in some
heavenly place and
decide whether they live or die...
on the merits of
what happens to them
in reel one, two,
three, et cetera.
And then we decide if they
have the right to live.
And that's how we
arrive at our ending.
Well, that's what you say, John.
But I say I'm a swell god.
I say they should live because of
everything they've
gone through together.
This world doesn't
necessarily have to
be a hopeless and
rotten place, John.
We're not all destined and doomed
to die of radium poisoning.
Now, I might be
completely wrong...
but that's what makes
me a swell god.
That makes you a flea
on an elephant's ass.
Oh, balls to your pessimism.
You know something?
You're never gonna be
a good screenwriter,
and you know why?
No, John. Why don't
you tell me why?
Because you let 85 million popcorn
eaters pull you this
way and that way.
To write a movie, you must forget
anyone's ever going to see it.
You're gonna make damn
sure nobody sees this one.
Well, maybe I am. But
I figure there's
two ways to live in this world.
One is you can crawl and kiss ass
and write their happy endings...
sign their long-term
contracts and never
take a chance on anything
and never fly...
never leave Hollywood.
Save all your
goddamn money, every cent of it.
And then when you're
a healthy-looking
50, you die of a stroke...
because whatever was
wild in you has
eaten away the muscles
of your heart.
The other way is to let the
chips fall where they may.
Refuse to sign their
contracts and tell
off the guy who can
cut your throat...
and flatter the little guy who's
hanging by a thread that you hold.
John, maybe you shouldn't
be in the picture business.
Well, maybe you're right,
kid. Maybe I shouldn't.
Maybe I should've wandered the
planet gambling on oil wells...
or stolen diamonds or
pimped for maharajahs.
Maybe you should've but
you know why you didn't?
Because somewhere
deep inside of you
is a small, tiny spark of hope.
Hope, hell.
I'll die broke in a
downtown Los Angeles
flophouse. And I won't be bitter.
I'll have contributed maybe
five, 10 damn good pictures.
They'll name a special
Academy Award
for me. And you know something?
All the wrong guys
will get it. And
I'll be in hell,
laughing my ass off.
Romantic futility.
- Your one true love.
- Nothing to be ashamed of, kid.
No, no, no, I didn't say that.
But I admit, you are right
about the ending, John.
I think you should kill them
all and blow everything up.
I knew you'd ultimately
see it my way.
Morning, boys.
If it isn't the
producer, right on cue.
I have just come from a meeting...
and I think the financial
deal is finally set.
- Good. When do I get my take?
- Oh, you'll get it.
I'm glad to see you
boys have been working.
No, we're not working.
We're just warming up, doing
some mental calisthenics.
Well, if you take my advice,
you'll start with the ending.
Oh, yeah?
Now, look, Paul. Don't you go
interfering with the script.
And don't try to influence
my writer, either.
You're an obscene man.
You witnessed the cultural
disintegration of
central Europe...
and you nevertheless
persist on following
the same cheap,
disastrous course...
that led to Hitler over Europe...
World War ll and the atomic bomb.
Meaning the ending stays as it is.
Except for one minor
change. The Germans
kill you too. Over the end title.
Do you have a coat or
something I could borrow?
- Oh, Irene.
- Excuse me.
I can't go out dressed like this.
Irene, I'd like you to meet my
partner. Paul Landers,
our producer.
Irene has the most wonderful
idea for a film, Paul.
Why don't you tell it to
Paul while Pete and I work?
Start from the beginning, darling.
It's about a dog. A puppy
dog. He's the hero, the star.
The dog's name is Horace.
Pete, I should've sent
you back to Switzerland.
I love Paul. He's
such a desperate man.
Are you coming to
Africa with us, Peter?
Yes, I am, Kay.
Thank God. Did you hear that?
Peter's coming with us.
At least we'll have one sane,
reasonable person along.
Won't it be wonderful?
I can't wait.
I've never looked forward
to anything as much.
I just hope John finds us
somewhere comfortable to stay.
Not too comfortable. I should
like to rough it a little.
I'm sure John will make
sure you get your wish.
Probably get us off in some
terrible hole and watch us suffer.
How's the script? How's
the script coming along?
The script? Fine, Kay. I
think you'll like it.
Kay.
I would like to propose a toast...
on behalf of John and myself,
to our British partners.
Hands across the sea.
Cheers.
- Cheers.
- Cheers.
And I also would like
to propose a toast...
to my partner and our
producer, Paul Landers.
Paul, I hope I don't
have to kill you
before this picture's finished.
To Kay.
And to Phil and his
lovely blushing bride.
And to Pete, probably
the best skier
in the Screenwriters Guild...
and the only man I know
who can keep up with me.
The only man I know who's capable
of the dangerous life...
because now he's making a move
on the producer's girlfriend.
And that's right, honey.
He's hung like a stud horse.
Now, doesn't that make you
long for the Dark Continent?
- Thank you, dear.
- Bye-bye.
Feel the mystery of it, kid?
Hello, John. You have a good trip?
A little bit long, I'd say.
John, may I introduce
squadron leader Alec Laing.
And Ralph Lockhart,
our unit manager.
Hello.
This is Pete Verrill. Tom
Harrison, our art director.
- Squadron leader Laing.
- Mr Laing.
- And yours...?
- Lockhart. Ralph Lockhart.
Of course you are.
Well, gentlemen, shall we
get in out of the sun?
You chaps must be about ready
for a bath and a drink.
I'll take care of the baggage
and see you later at the hotel.
Well, the drink part
certainly sounds good to me.
Get out of the way.
Stupid buggers.
Get out of the way.
They knock off about 10 of
them a month along this road.
It doesn't seem to
make the slightest
bloody impression on them, though.
Is that so?
Will you get out
of the bloody way?
Hello, I'm Harry
Longthorne, general
manager of the Lake
Victoria Hotel.
- Harry.
- I'll show you to your rooms.
Excuse me, Mr Verrill,
do you play soccer?
Yes, I do. Why?
We're having the
annual staff soccer
game. We're minus one white.
- Would you be interested?
- Certainly.
We'll have a practise
the Saturday before.
All right.
Pete, this is Mrs
Margaret MacGregor.
- Pleasure to meet you.
- And Mr Marlowe.
He's a licenced white
hunter. Pete's
a crack shot, Marine-trained.
Sit down, have a drink, kid.
I'll have an iced tea, please.
Oh, come on, don't embarrass
me. Give him a beer.
I'll have a beer, please.
We are interested in getting
a couple of elephants.
An elephant is dangerous because
he's such a hearty bugger.
To kill him, you have to hit
him in one of two places.
Between the eyes or in the heart.
Not right between the eyes.
Down about six inches.
"There's been silence
for hours now.
She's sitting on the
back, reading the
Bible. He's still
working on the engine.
Finally he says, 'Miss, I'm
sorry I got drunk. I apologise.
What more can a man do
than say he's sorry?'
She says, 'It's not only your
drinking I'm upset about.
You promised to go downriver.'
He says, 'Miss, listen
to me and understand.
There's death a dozen times
over down that river.'
She says, 'You promised.' He says,
'I'm taking the promise back.'
Silence.
She picks up the
Bible, starts reading
again, completely ignoring him.
Now he can't take the
silence any longer.
Finally he says, 'All
right, miss. You win...
which I'm sure the crocodiles
will be happy to hear.
Down the river we go."'
Well, what do you think, John?
Not bad. But you're trying
to complicate it, Pete.
Things are always good
if they're left simple.
No, not always.
Always. That's what creates truly
important art, is simplicity.
John, there are no rules to art.
There are hundreds of rules.
Hemingway understood that.
That's why he always reduced
life to its simplest terms.
Whether it's courage,
fear, impotence, death.
People's lives just sort
of unfold, and things
just happen to them one
thing after another.
They were never bogged down with
that nonsense of subplot...
that we sweated over in the past.
Stendhal understood that.
Flaubert. Tolstoy. Melville.
Simplicity is what
made them great.
No, Pete. Don't complicate it.
You'll just be wasting your time.
Wasting my time?
I'm wasting my time
trying to make the script
better? Isn't that
why I'm here, John?
And I think it's damn good.
Well, I just wish the damn
script were finished...
so you and I could go on safari.
Safari? I thought we
were gonna finish
the film first and
then go on safari.
If we wait till the film is
finished, we'll never get to it.
We'll finish the script,
then go on safari...
then we'll shoot the film after
we've shot our elephants.
Damn lake flies.
Good job they don't bite.
Come on, whites.
There's a spare man in the middle.
- He tripped over my arm. Please.
- That was a fault.
- That was a fault. Let's go.
- How can that be a penalty?
The local boys are quite
good, aren't they?
Yes.
They went to England last year. Of
course, they didn't
stand a chance.
Why is that?
They're clever with their
feet, but against a
good British team,
they're just too small.
The old blocking and
checking throws them off.
They don't go in for that sort
of thing at all, you see.
Probably be lynched if they did.
We're not like you Americans.
Of course not.
Oh, well done.
Hell of a man, that
boy. Hell of a man.
Where is the defence?
What? What? Watch it.
You all right?
Shit.
We found everything you wanted,
John, but it's bloody awful.
It's no place for a
man to live. It's
the thickest jungle
you've ever seen.
Looks pretty interesting, John.
There's a black-water
river and a few
huts. At night-time
there are mosquitoes.
During the day it rains. There are
elephants, crocodiles, Pygmies.
- Lots of big game, is there?
- Antelope, buffalo.
We saw an elephant from the plane
with tusks right
down to the ground.
Could you lay a plane
on to take us there?
No problem. When you
thinking of going?
Pete?
If I can manage to keep the
script simple, two or three days.
Isn't this just swell...
dining with a beautiful lady
right in the middle of Africa?
Would you care for
some more champagne?
Yes, I would, rather.
Waiter, could you bring
us another bottle
of champagne when
you get the chance?
- Yes. Thank you, sir.
- Thank you.
You know, you spoil
those boys dreadfully.
Well, as good as they play
soccer, they should be spoiled.
They'll be impossible now
for five or six days.
I don't think so. I
think they know the
difference between
sport and real life.
- So, Mrs MacGregor...
- Margaret, please.
Margaret. Margaret,
do you miss London?
Yes, I do, rather.
I don't miss London as much
as I miss the country.
Especially the winter,
when you're out there
with the hounds and
they have the scent...
- crossing a good bit of country.
- Oh, I do agree.
I'm not keen on London.
I had to live there during the war
and I got awfully fed up with it.
Well, I rather enjoyed
it during the war.
The people behaved
so magnificently.
They didn't all behave well. You
probably never left the West End.
Not true, not true. I did a
film about the London Blitz.
I was all over town.
Well, you can't have spent much
time in Soho, where I lived.
Why do you say that, dear?
I thought the people
there were just horrid.
There are an awful lot of
Jews in that neighbourhood.
- Mrs MacGregor.
- Margaret.
Margaret. I must
warn you, I'm a Jew.
- You're not.
- I am.
- No.
- Yes.
You're pulling my leg.
No, I'm not pulling
your leg, Margaret.
I'm a Jew.
I don't believe you.
I know I shouldn't
say this, but...
that was the one
thing about which I
thought Hitler was
absolutely right.
Now, Margaret, the man has
just got through warning you.
Because the Jews in
London were awful.
They ran the black market. And
they didn't go into the army.
And when they did, they got
themselves cushy jobs.
Of course, there were
upper-class Jews,
but I'm not talking about them.
I'm talking about
the kikes in Soho.
- The foreigners.
- Margaret. Margaret.
My grandparents were kikes. My
father and my mother were kikes.
- And I'm a kike.
- That's right, dear.
You're not going to tell
me that you're Jewish too?
No. Absolutely not,
because that would be a
lie, and I wouldn't want
to lie to you ever.
But I would like to tell you
a little story, though.
I love stories.
Well, you mustn't
interrupt now, because
you're way too beautiful
to interrupt people.
When I was in London
in the early '40s...
I was dining one
evening at the Savoy
with a rather select
group of people...
and sitting next to me was a very
beautiful lady,
much like yourself.
- Now you're pulling my leg.
- Now, just listen, dear.
Well, we were dining and
the bombs were falling,
and we were all talking
about Hitler...
and comparing him
with Napoleon, and
we were all being
really brilliant.
And then, suddenly,
this beautiful lady...
she spoke up and said that was the
thing she didn't
mind about Hitler...
was the way he was
treating the Jews.
Well, we all started arguing
with her, of course.
Though, mind you,
no one at the table
was Jewish. But she persisted.
Are you listening, honey?
Mustn't interrupt Daddy.
That's right. You're way
too beautiful for that.
Anyway, she went on to say that
that's how she felt about it...
that if she had her
way, she would kill
them all, burn them in
ovens, like Hitler.
Well, we all sat there in silence.
Then finally, I leaned over to her
and I said, "Madam,
I have dined...
with some of the ugliest
goddamn bitches in my time.
And I have dined with some of the
goddamndest ugly
bitches in this world.
But you, my dear, are the
ugliest bitch of them all."
Well, anyway, she got
up to leave and she
tripped over a chair
and fell on the floor.
And we all just sat there. No
one raised a hand to help her.
And finally when
she picked herself
up, I said to her one more time:
"You, my dear, are
the ugliest goddamn
bitch I have ever dined with."
Well, you know what happened?
The very next day, she reported
me to the American Embassy.
And they brought me
in for reprimand.
And then when they
investigated it...
they found out that
she was a German
agent. And they locked her up.
Isn't that amazing?
Why did you tell me that story?
I don't know.
It wasn't because I thought you
were a German agent, honey.
But I was tempted tonight to say
the very same thing to you.
I didn't want you to think I
had never said it before.
You, madam, are the...
Well, you know the rest.
- Care for some champagne, honey?
- No, thank you.
Pete?
Well, it's getting late. I think
I'd better go back to my room.
- Pete and I will accompany you.
- There's no need.
No bother at all.
Good night, Margaret.
Sorry, John.
I know you wanted to get laid.
That's all right, kid.
You can't help it
if you're a kike.
He says, "Never mind the car
keys. Have you seen the car?"
- You clumsy oaf.
- Dimwit.
- Now look what you've done.
- I'm sorry, boss. I'm sorry.
Come here.
John, where you going?
Pick up that glass, boy.
Damn it, pick it up.
John. What are you up to?
I just want to go talk
to Harry for a moment.
What happened here, Harry?
Well, the little black
bastard spilled
a drink all over this gentleman.
- On purpose?
- Who knows? Black bastards.
Harry, I think you're a yellow,
rotten, sadistic son of a bitch.
Now, Mr Wilson...
I don't have to take that
kind of talk from anyone.
That's right. You don't.
How about going outside and
trying to kick me around?
You're drunk, Mr Wilson.
I am, but that doesn't change the
fact that you're yellow, Harry.
Bright yellow.
I'm not supposed to fight
with the guests, Mr Wilson.
I'm not a guest
tonight, you yellow
bastard. I happen
to be an intruder.
Let's go.
What are you doing? This
doesn't make any sense.
If Mrs MacGregor had
been a man, wouldn't
you have knocked him on his ass?
Yes, I would have. But
this is different.
We fought the preliminary
for the kikes.
Now we're gonna fight the
main event for the niggers.
Go, Harry.
Come on.
- Think the other hand knows how?
- Go, Harry. You got him now.
You got him on the run.
Finish him.
Finish him off, why don't you?
Come on.
Yellow bastard.
Steady on, old man. Fair's fair?
Please don't get up, Mr Wilson.
Aren't you gonna stop it?
Come on.
Where is he? I'll
kill the bastard.
He's called it quits, John.
I told you he was yellow.
I think you had
better get a doctor.
He's hurt that bad?
And he almost killed you.
You're full of crap.
I was about ready
to finish him off
when you grabbed me.
All right. You're back
in your room now, John.
- I am.
- Yeah, it's all over.
How about that?
I feel pretty good, really.
It's like I always tell you, kid.
You gotta fight when you think
it's the right thing to do.
Otherwise, you feel like
your gut's full of pus.
Even if you get the
hell beat out of you.
If you fight, you
feel okay about it.
"Dear Pete: Of all
the wild animals in
Africa, John Wilson
is the wildest.
I beg you to do
everything you can...
Everything you can to
bring him to his senses.
Next time he picks a fight with an
employee of the hotel
or the company...
you have my permission
to hit him from behind.
Will arrive in Africa
in 10 days. Paul.
Good morning. How are we?
Good morning.
- Can I do something for you?
- No. No, you can't, Ralph.
But you can do something
for yourself.
What's that?
Stick to your own job and
stop spying on Wilson.
Spying? What the hell do you mean?
You told Landers Wilson
provoked a fight, didn't you?
And that's bullshit.
Someone should have
hit that bastard a
long time ago, Ralph.
You do realise you're backing
the wrong horse, don't you?
Wilson is the boss,
and there's not
a damn thing you can do about it.
Phone, Mr Lockhart.
London calling.
Yes, all right.
Just remember what I said.
Have a pleasant day.
I would have had him in no
time if you hadn't stopped me.
No, I agree, John. He only
knocked you down 15 times or so.
I was just getting onto
his style. Another
10 minutes, I would've killed him.
- In any case, it was worth doing.
- It certainly was.
I've arranged for you to fly to
a hunting camp on Lake Albert.
You can pick up the Ruki River
there and scout it by boat.
The camp's owned by a
man named Zibelinsky.
He's laid on a safari,
if you have time.
We'll have time.
Mr Wilson, Mr Landers is
on the phone from London.
Well, you tell him
you just missed me.
John, it might be important.
You tell him that
I've gone on a recce.
Goodbye, you worthless
son of a bitch.
Goodbye, you pearl of
Central East Africa.
Goodbye, you lake flies.
Goodbye, you flat-chested,
bucktoothed women.
Goodbye forever.
Hello, anybody home?
Hello. You chaps looking for me?
The name's Hodkins. Your
new aeroplane driver.
This is Mr Wilson, Pete Verrill.
Call me Hod.
If you don't mind, we
better get going. Don't
want to start out
late for the Congo.
Hod, I understand you have never
flown in the Congo before.
I should be able to find the
way. But if I can't, well...
we'll just set down
in one of those
big trees and spend the night.
Only problem with that
is, it's a little
difficult getting it
up the next morning.
Well, as a famous pilot
once said, "It's
all worth it. Including
the final crash."
Well, that's Pete's
philosophy too, isn't it?
I'll get the baggage.
So, this is...
This is really your first
time over the Congo, Hod?
Yeah, quite. Yeah.
Abyssinia.
It's just like the airlines?
- Yes.
- I'll help you.
- It's the spot.
- That's it.
I think I'm getting
the hang of this.
You see this hill here?
The hill. Right here. The hill.
Christ. Where's the stick?
Shit.
Jesus. Oh, dear. Oh,
dear. Oh, dear.
Thanks awfully, old boy.
Pete.
I'm gonna take myself a nap.
Please don't wake
me up unless you're
sure we're going to
crash, because...
I wouldn't want to miss
something like that.
No.
Hey, all that fancy
flying back there
didn't bother you at all, did it?
No, not at all.
It was your friend's idea. I think
he thought it was a good joke.
A joke?
What if the engines
would've stalled out?
Well, I was a bit
worried, but the old
boy seemed awfully
keen on his rib.
The old boy's a pain in the ass.
A bloody valet with wings.
That's what a pilot is out here.
Ranks right up there with writers.
- That's what you do, is it?
- Yeah, that's what I do.
I was wondering
what your part was.
I've got some very bloody funny
stories I should tell you.
A particularly good
one was when the
squadron dog bit me in Khartoum.
- Was his name Horace?
- Horace? No, why?
Forget it.
- You must be Mr Wilson.
- That's right. Mr Zibelinsky.
Delighted.
This is Pete Verrill and
Hodkins, our pilot.
Quite a place you have
here, Mr Zibelinsky.
Thank you.
Well, by George, here they are.
The hunters from Hollywood.
How did you get here?
Came with a pilot
who knew the way.
Right this way, Mr Wilson.
I think I found a steamboat
for you, Mr Wilson.
You have? When can I
take a look at it?
Day after tomorrow.
I'm having her put in dry
dock to check her bottom.
The Belgians want a bloody great
bond posted before
we can use it...
but we'll talk them
out of that one.
Where's Harrison this evening?
Down on the other location,
near Ponthierville.
Mr Landers is still trying
to get in touch with you.
I'm sure.
We're going hunting
in the morning.
Would you like to
go with us, Ralph?
Customs bloke's coming over from
Tatsumu to log all my stuff in.
I say...
is he always like this just
before a production starts?
Like what, Ralph?
He acts as if he
couldn't care less.
He'll be fine, Ralph...
once he's killed an elephant.
Good evening, gentlemen.
John, this is my wife, Dorshka.
- What a pleasure indeed, dear.
- Hello.
You know Ralph Lockhart?
- Yes, we met this afternoon.
- And this is Peter Verrill.
- Hello.
- Hello. Welcome.
So you are a big-game
enthusiast also?
Well, more or less.
Well, it's a pleasure
to have you here.
It's a pleasure to
have you all here.
I hope you found your
quarters comfortable.
This is simply paradise.
Absolute paradise here.
In fact, I'm seriously thinking
of staying here forever.
Come on. Heave it.
- Well, what do you think of her?
- She's beautiful. Perfect.
Well, not quite.
She's very old, you
see? And according
to the skipper, not
all that seaworthy.
- Oh, she will be.
- Well, yes.
For everything except the
white-water sequence.
The skipper says it would
be far too dangerous.
She'd fall apart if you attempted
to run the rapids with her.
Actually, I called Mr Landers
and told him about it.
He suggested... Well, I
should say, he insisted...
that you cut the sequence
out of the film.
- He did?
- Right.
Wrong.
No, she looks sound to me.
Of course, there's only one way
to find out, isn't there, Ralph?
Do stop.
Stop, please. Stop.
Shit.
Are you convinced, Ralph? Or
would you like to continue on?
Oh, no.
I'm convinced.
So am I.
Well, has anyone heard
from our chief hunter yet?
He should be here soon. I sent one
of the boys over to fetch him.
Good.
Our chief hunter.
For God's sake, let's have him in.
Explain to him what we want.
We want to go after some game.
Buffalo, preferably an elephant.
This man is wonderful.
What's his name?
Kivu.
He's called Kivu because he
went on a trip there once.
I must say, Kivu is amazing. He
found elephant tracks that big.
A whole herd. Only
darkness prevented us
from going on. Tell
him to sit down.
He says he prefers to stand.
Oh. Good evening, gentlemen.
So did the Hollywood hunters
have any luck today?
Tell Kivu to get a
good night's rest.
We'll be leaving at 5:00 in the
morning. We'll get
our elephant then.
I talked to Mr Landers in
London. He's quite hysterical.
He wants to talk to you tomorrow.
I told him that we
could drive you down
to the border and use
that phone there.
- You did, did you?
- You'll be on safari, I suppose.
You're welcome to come along
with us if you'd like, Ralph.
No Hollywood safaris for me.
That word has crept
into the conversation
quite a few times, hasn't it?
- Which word is that, sir?
- Hollywood.
I realise it's the
name of a place, but
the way you say it has
an added meaning.
Like an insult.
Well, I didn't mean it like that.
Don't contradict me, Ralph.
I've heard it all before.
In the Army, in New York...
in the theatre. Hell,
I've heard it everywhere.
People say Hollywood when
they want to insult you.
Well, really Hollywood is just a
place where they make a profit.
It's a factory town like Detroit
or Birmingham or Schaffhausen.
Because the cheap
element of the town
has been so overly advertised...
it becomes an insult to
remind a man he's from there.
They're not talking about the
people who work there...
and that try to do
something worthwhile.
They're talking about the whores
when they mention Hollywood.
You know what that word
means, don't you, Ralph?
- Sure.
- Sure.
Whores have to sell
the one thing that
shouldn't be for
sale in the world.
And that's love.
Of course, there are
other kinds of whores
than the floozies you
frequent, Ralph.
There are whores who sell
words and ideas and melodies.
I know what I'm
talking about because
I've done a little
hustling in my time.
A hell of a lot more than
I'd like to admit to.
And what I sold when I was
whoring I'll never get back.
What I'm trying to
say, it's the whores
who put Hollywood
up as a big target.
Sure.
Hell, John, I didn't realise
you were such a home-town boy.
Well, I am, kid. I am
when I'm in Africa.
Yeah.
No, I'm serious. It took Africa
to bring all this out in me.
Africa and the smell of
my first wild elephant.
It's a shame Kivu couldn't
have heard you say that, John.
Oh, Kivu knows. Kivu knows
without being told.
John, why don't you ask Kivu to
go back to Hollywood with you?
Not a bad idea, kid. He could
be mighty useful around there.
Yeah.
Where are we going
this morning, John?
A place Kivu knows.
And he says a lot of
elephant go there
this time of year.
I was wondering. How do
you two communicate?
Oh, we get on. I asked
him this morning
about going back to
the States with me.
Zib here actually acted
as my interpreter.
- What did he say?
- Said he didn't know.
Said he'd have to think about it.
That it was a very big decision.
He says we're getting close.
He says they're in
there, but he thinks
it best if only two shooters go.
- Pete, are you ready?
- No, you and Zib are plenty.
- You're not coming?
- No, I'll wait here.
Now, look, kid. I've never
given you much advice.
I've never forced
you to do anything.
But this time it's different.
I think you should come.
I urge you as a friend.
No, you just go on in there,
John. I'll wait here.
If you don't come, you'll regret
this as long as you can remember.
I don't want to shoot an elephant.
That's besides the point.
If you don't come, it's because
you're scared. And you know it.
All right, well, I guess I'll
just have to live with that.
John. John, hold your fire.
John, don't shoot.
It's too dangerous. Hold your
fire. Come back slowly. Come on.
This is him. This is the
one I'm looking for.
It's not safe. There
are too many cows
around. Come back slowly. Come on.
Just come. Do as I
tell you. Come on.
I've never seen one before,
outside the circus or the zoo.
They're so majestic.
So indestructible.
They're part of the earth.
They make us feel
like perverse little
creatures from another planet.
Without any dignity.
Makes one believe in God.
In the miracle of creation.
Fantastic.
They're part of a world
that no longer exists, Hod.
Feeling of unconquerable time.
You certainly have
a way with words,
Pete. No wonder you're a writer.
So, what happened, John? Weren't
you able to get close enough?
We got close enough, but I
wouldn't let him shoot.
Too many cows around the big
fellow. They'd have charged.
That was the biggest
tusker in all of Africa.
It would have been a
risk well worth taking.
- You all right?
- I'm all right.
John.
Come on, let's face it. This
country's too tough for us.
We're just characters
from Vine Street.
We're not heroes out
of one of your films.
Come on.
Get up.
You know, kid, we're gonna end up
together. When we're old, that is.
Probably live in a cabin
up in the Sierras
and pan for gold.
Have a couple mules.
Sit around the campfire at
night. Tell lies to each other.
Yeah.
About all the things we've done.
The wars we fought. Books you've
written, movies I've made.
You know, I don't
doubt that, John.
You'll need two, possibly three
cameras on the fire
sequence, John.
If you could just
initial these plans, I
can go ahead and
start construction.
It was a risk to all of us.
A herd of cows can go
rogue very quickly
if they have their
young with them.
There have been rogue
herds created in
Kenya and Tanganyika
in just such a way.
And then they have to go out and
shoot every bloody one of them.
All right. All right. Forget
it. We'll try again tomorrow.
Tomorrow morning.
Tomorrow afternoon,
we leave. I have another safari.
You have to get started
on the film, John.
You can leave if you
want. I'm staying.
The company arrives in Entebbe
the day after tomorrow.
I'm staying.
Jesus Christ. Will
you be reasonable?
I am being reasonable.
I don't give a goddamn
if the company gets
here tomorrow or got
here three days ago.
I'm staying till I
get my elephant.
You need someone with you.
You can't hunt alone.
Kivu will go with me.
What about that fellow
at the fishery?
The one who used to be game warden
down on the Zambezi. Ogilvy?
Yes. Yes, that's the
man. Yes, they say
he killed over 500
elephants in his day.
Well, let's get him up here.
John, how long do you
plan on staying?
Well, that depends upon the
elephants. And on the guides.
If Ogilvy turns out to
be another old lady
like the rest of you,
it may take months.
But if he's half the man Kivu
is, it may take no time at all.
What's the matter, kid?
Go ahead and spit it out.
You're sitting around
stewing like a
dame who's just been
kicked out of bed.
You're either crazy...
or the most egocentric,
irresponsible
son of a bitch that I've ever met.
You're about to blow this whole
picture out of your nose, John.
And for what?
To commit a crime.
To kill one of the rarest,
most noble creatures...
that roams the face
of this crummy earth.
And in order for you
to commit this crime,
you're willing to forget
about all of us...
and let this whole goddamn
thing go down the drain.
You're wrong, kid.
It's not a crime to
kill an elephant.
It's bigger than all that.
It's a sin to kill an elephant.
Do you understand? It's a sin.
It's the only sin that you can buy
a licence and go out and commit.
That's why I want
to do it before I
do anything else in this world.
Do you understand me?
Of course you don't.
How could you? I don't
understand myself.
Well, if you don't
need me, then I'll
take the plane to London tomorrow.
You do that. I've never
been one to interfere
with anything a friend
of mine wants to do.
How do you do? It's
nice to meet you.
Welcome. My wife.
- Hello. How do you do?
- Good morning, welcome.
Nice to meet you.
Nice to meet you.
How do you do?
- Well, hello.
- Welcome. Welcome.
Miss Gibson. Right here.
Pete.
Pete. Where's John?
Why isn't he here?
I'm going back to London
on the next flight, Paul.
What happened? Where's
John? Where's the script?
I sent you the script.
Didn't you get it?
I got half of it.
- There's only one copy?
- No. John has the original.
If he hasn't lost it,
which he probably has.
- How are you, Pete?
- Hi.
- Where's the ogre?
- He's out scouting locations.
I hope you boys have
improved the script.
What Kay means is, is her
part gonna get bigger?
Not at all. I don't mind if you do
the talking and I
don't say a word.
As long as I get to play
a real human being.
Beautiful, Kay. Come with me.
Come this way. To the side.
Mr Duncan. Can we have one
of you with your new bride?
How do you want it, boys?
Passionate or domestic?
Can we have a kiss?
Thank you very much.
Peter, think. Think
what will happen to the
morale of the company
if you go back.
They'll think
something terrible is
wrong. I can't start
a picture that way.
Paul, don't you
understand? Something
terrible is wrong. The
man has the fever.
It's just like any passion. It's
irresponsible and
it's destructive.
I understand how you
feel, but we've got
a picture to make.
You've got to stay.
You've got to help me
get him back. If he's
not back in three days,
we'll all be ruined.
Apologise to him.
Go on, apologise to him.
No. I won't apologise
to him, Paul,
but I'll tell you what I will do.
I'll get that script
from him. Because
you hired me to write a script.
And it's the best
writing I've ever done.
And I'll be goddamned if I'll
let that bastard destroy it.
- Hello, chaps.
- Where's John?
Well, believe it
or not, he's gone.
Gone where?
He's visiting Kivu's village up
in Semuliki. It's the truth.
Ogilvy and Kivu
convinced him that's
the best place to
find a big tusker.
- So off they went.
- Shit.
- And how far is that from here?
- About six miles.
Most of it through swamp.
- There's been a change in plans.
- What's that?
The boss has decided to start
shooting the film there.
Made up his mind yesterday
when we finally
cleared the trucks
through customs.
He seems to think Kivu's village
is much more authentic.
The company can stay
at the hunting camp.
Have a pleasant day.
There it is, there. That
must be the village there.
I don't believe it.
I just don't believe it.
What about the village we built
at Masindi? It cost a fortune.
Lockhart says John plans to
use that for the big fire.
He'll move back there once
he's finished in the Congo.
I'm not going to let
him do it. I'm not
going to send people
to a place like that.
I'll call off the picture first.
You've already invested
over 100,000 pounds, Paul.
I'll pay it back if it
takes the rest of my life.
Why don't you just tell
everybody that it'll be rough.
But it'll make for a
distinguished film.
No, we can't do that.
- Why not?
- Because we can't.
Either we call it off or
we play along with Wilson.
We can be honourable or crooked.
There's no middle road.
Well, I don't agree with you.
I've always found that it's
better just to tell the truth.
If I had always told
the truth, Pete,
I would now be a cake of soap.
Does this look
familiar to you, Pete?
Yes, Paul, we're getting close.
It's awfully primitive.
Where's the hotel?
Well, here it is.
Home away from home.
Well, I think this
is quite lovely.
Holy shit.
Oh, do come in, chaps. Do come in.
I've been looking forward
to seeing you again.
May I present Madam Dorshka and
Mr Zibelinsky, our hosts.
Well, this is glorious.
This is marvellous.
And this is Count Ogilvy,
my new white hunter.
Hello, John.
- So wonderful to be here.
- Excuse my friend.
How do you do? Very
glad to see you.
Hello, John.
- Hello, John.
- Pleasure to see you all.
- How you doing?
- Cheers.
Well, have some champagne,
everyone, and let's get with it.
- Cheers, John.
- With the evening.
I trust you all enjoyed
our borscht à la Russe?
Excellent. Absolutely first class.
Spiffing.
And now we have the
piêce de résistance.
It's a freshly killed
reedbuck from Semuliki plain.
The female of the
species, just to prove
that God does not let
man off the hook.
So I told Anatole
that he should not
let Paulette ever do that again.
John, can we stop playing games?
Playing games, dear fellow?
I don't quite understand.
Well, we have to get
started tomorrow.
Red has to go out to the location.
You have to check the costumes.
I'm willing to do anything
you suggest, dear boy.
That is, within reason, of course.
Well, first of all can
you drop that phoney
English accent? And
for God's sakes...
abandon your role of the
great white hunter...
and become a movie director again.
Listen, you Balkan rug peddler...
my role of the great hunter, as
you put it, is my own business.
It has nothing to do with
you. It's a sacred subject.
Much like the sex
life of my mother.
It's something you'll refrain from
talking about or
even thinking about.
It's way too difficult
a subject for
your small little brain to grasp.
It's a passion that's beyond you.
I'd have to explain
to you the sound of
the wind and the
smell of the woods.
I'd have to create you
all over again...
and stamp out all
those years you spent
on the dirty pavement
in cramped shoes.
I'm not interested
in your hunting.
It doesn't mean a
thing to me except
when it interferes
with the picture.
How is it interfering
with the picture? When?
I haven't even gotten the last
section of the script yet.
Oh, dear. Well, I'll
correct that immediately.
Kivu.
You've finished your
rewrites, have you?
He polished it, Pete, and
gave it a little balls.
It has to be typed.
Copies have to be made.
The ape.
Somebody get hold of
the goddamned ape.
Frontal brain shot. And for
God's sake, don't miss.
Oh, God. This makes
it all so worthwhile.
- Oh, isn't this wonderful?
- My God, what a performance.
They really love him, don't they?
They sure do.
Or, if you've got time this
afternoon, we could...
John, scene 244.
Pete, I'm surprised
to see you here, last
night. I thought
you'd be in Paris...
devoting yourself to
literature and all
those things you
know nothing about.
Yeah? Well, I thought you'd
have your big tusker by now.
Stick around, kid. Stick around.
When do we start?
Shit.
No shooting today, folks.
Where you going, John? John.
I'm going hunting. We can't
shoot the sequence in the rain.
Well, how long will the rain last?
Oh, it could last for days.
It's the beginning
of the rainy season.
Why didn't somebody tell
us about a rainy season?
I did. I told Mr Wilson.
He just said, well,
the days he couldn't
shoot the film, he
could shoot elephant.
At this rate, I'll be in
debt the rest of my life.
- Come here, you little devil.
- Now, I feel this...
this change is
appropriate, but John
seems to think it's
a bit complicated.
Why complicated?
That's a good question,
Kay. And if I
could sit John down
someday, I'd ask.
No luck? No elephants?
Well, we saw plenty of
them. We just didn't
see the big tusker.
The one I want.
We'll get one. These rains won't
stop for another week yet.
You think so?
Shit.
It's going to be a clear day. We
can finally start the picture.
I'm sending the company
to Kivu's village.
John, we've been sitting
here for five days.
We're already a week behind.
We haven't even got one shot.
All right.
All right. Let's make a movie.
I'll believe that when I see it.
Boss. Boss. Boss.
He never looks at the
script, does he?
Nope. He's afraid he'll lose
his artistic spontaneity.
What are you two grousing
about? What's wrong, Paul?
I'm on the spot. I'm ready to
make magic. Make you rich.
What the hell's the
matter with you?
Nothing.
Wait. John. Kivu sent him.
He's onto a big herd.
- Is that right?
- About three miles from here.
What are we waiting on?
John, the sky is clear.
You've got plenty
of unloading to do.
Plenty of work.
I'll be right back.
Well, how do I know
you'll come back?
Send your boy Pete if
you don't trust me.
Go with him. Make sure he doesn't
forget we're starting a picture.
He doesn't need me.
That's right. And it may be risky.
You're onto a big one?
What's he saying?
We'll leave the boy here.
John.
Please, let's go back.
They're waiting for us.
Well, let them wait.
Bad country, this.
Walk right up to a
big tusker before
you'd ever see him.
What's he saying?
He says they're just
beyond these trees.
It's a big one, all
right. But there
are cows and young ones with him.
- What do we do?
- It's no good. I don't like it.
- What does Kivu say?
- I don't care what he says.
I've killed more than
500 of them. And
I'll tell you, this
is not the day.
How many chances does a man get?
That's never a reason
to do something wrong.
Would you ask Kivu what he thinks?
He says he's willing to try.
Of course he's willing.
He's got guts.
Jesus Christ, John. Give it up.
It's his word against
mine, Mr Wilson.
I'm asking, will you come along?
Come on, Kivu.
No.
What are they saying, Ogilvy?
What are the drums saying?
They're telling everybody what
happened, that's
all. The bad news.
It always starts
with the same words.
What are they?
White hunter. Black heart.
White hunter. Black heart.
You were right, Pete. The
ending is all wrong.
John, we're ready.
All right, quiet please,
everyone. Ready, Miss Gibson?
Ready, Mr Wilson?
Roll them.
Speed.
- Mark it.
- Scene one, take one.
Action.
given to violent action.
Some ascribed his wild
and troubled life to
his personal mania for
self-destruction.
These generalisations always
seemed inaccurate to me.
That's why I had to write
all this about John.
A brilliant, screw-you-all
type film-maker...
who continually violated
all the unwritten
laws of the motion
picture business...
yet had the magic, almost divine
ability to always
land on his feet.
Mr Verrill? Hello,
I'm Miss Wilding.
- How are you?
- Did you have a good flight?
- Wonderful. Thank you.
- Mr Wilson is expecting you.
- How was Switzerland?
- Switzerland? Fine.
Eggerton Gardens, please.
Yes, ma'am.
- I thought he was at Claridge's.
- He was.
He's got a house now.
One of his society friends
loaned it to him.
You know what John is.
I mean, Mr Wilson.
Hello, George. This is Mr
Verrill. Is Mr Wilson up yet?
Oh, yes. He's been up
hours. Been riding.
He's having his breakfast now.
Come in.
Mr Verrill is here, Mr Wilson.
- Pete.
- Johnny.
For God's sake.
- How the hell are you?
- All right.
Well, you're looking good, kid.
- What have you been up to?
- Skiing and sitting in the sun.
Isn't that swell?
- I missed you, kid.
- I missed you too, John.
- Same old Pete.
- Yeah.
- Care for some coffee?
- I'm fine.
- This is some joint you got.
- Isn't it?
Did you get a load
of the living room?
Did I ever.
Isn't it the most hideous
thing? I'm crazy about it.
Miss Wilding, you can get the hell
out of here. There's
no work today.
Well, what do you
think of this outfit?
Hey, that's some getup
you got there, Johnny.
Of course it is.
Now, what about you?
What about the book?
I didn't get very much
done on the book.
Why? Or would you prefer
not to talk about it?
I don't mind. I just
couldn't get started.
An then when I did, I got
hooked up with some dame.
- Hell, isn't it?
- It sure is.
And once it's over,
you can't figure out
why it all seemed
so damn important.
There's nothing tougher
than trying to remember...
why you chased a dame
once you've had her.
Yeah, I'll say. And I didn't get
much skiing done because of her.
Well, that's a shame.
I think I've got
the cure for that, though: Africa.
You come down there with me
and you work on this script.
You really think
that's gonna help me?
Even if it doesn't,
you've got to do it.
There are times when you
can't wonder whether
it's the right or
wrong thing to do.
Not for guys like you and me, kid.
You just gotta pack up and go.
I gotta get started on this book.
If you didn't write it
before, you weren't ready.
- You think so?
- I know so.
Well, when do you plan on leaving?
In a week or 10 days.
We'll work here and
then we'll get our
shots and take off.
And who's gonna be
in this picture?
We have Phil Duncan
and Kay Gibson.
That's good. How long are you
planning on staying there?
Oh, four or five months. Long
enough to make a picture.
- And have ourselves a safari.
- Safari?
Yeah, haven't you ever
wanted to shoot an elephant?
- No, I don't think so, John.
- Well, a lion or a buffalo.
This is a safari,
kid. The real thing.
- Who's gonna pay for all this?
- Don't worry.
What's your financial situation?
- It remains unchanged.
- So you're broke?
Depends on what you call broke.
I owe a quarter million.
- Quarter of a million?
- Closer to 300,000.
$300,000, John, and
you're not worried?
I think about it now and then.
- Do you see a way out?
- This picture.
Now do you see why I
want to go to Africa?
I've got nothing
else to lose. Even
if a lion or a buffalo gets me...
my last minute on earth
will be a happy one.
I'll just think of
my creditors when
they find out I've
been eaten alive...
and it'll all seem worthwhile.
Okay, okay, John.
How about a script?
There's one around here somewhere.
We don't have a title yet.
It's called African Trader
or African something.
Miss Wilding?
Where's a copy of that
goddamned script?
I haven't seen it, John.
Then find it. What
kind of a secretary
are you? What do you do all day?
I've been typing your letters
and answering the telephone.
- Balls.
- I have.
You were competent when
you first got here.
Now you just hang around all
day spying for Paul Landers.
It's not true. I don't spy for
anybody. Especially Mr Landers.
Find the script, then.
We have a meeting with Landers
and his money men in an hour.
Right.
- Paul Landers is producing this?
- That's right.
And you know why I agreed
to work with him again?
No.
Because it's the
wrong thing to do.
- I'm so glad to see you, Pete.
- It's good to see you, Paul.
- You can save all our lives.
- How's that?
The monster. I think
he's losing his mind.
He's in fine shape.
You've only been
with him half a day.
You don't know what
he's been like.
He's almost killed
the deal five times.
The only reason it's still
alive is because of me.
- He wants to go to Africa.
- Paul, how the hell are you?
Johnny boy. Did you have a
good day? Get a lot done?
Hell, no. But Pete and I
did have a nice chat.
- What do you think of the script?
- I haven't read it yet.
- I think it's awfully good.
- You do?
Well, it's a shame you don't
know a damn thing about it.
- You see?
- He's always been like that.
No, he's worse. He's insane.
In a well-ordered society, he'd
be in a straitjacket right now.
Where the question of colour is
concerned, it's an extra expense.
As far as I'm concerned,
of questionable value.
- I quite agree.
- Well, I don't.
Colour's worth a million
dollars at the box office.
Well, that's not important.
What I'm trying to
find out from Basil is
how much colour complicates
our operation.
Well, I'm afraid it does, John.
The camera is much heavier. There
are many more lighting problems.
I'm telling you,
colour is essential
to the success of this venture.
I'm not concerned with the success
of the venture at this moment.
I just don't want
to get bogged down.
- Bogged down?
- Bogged down?
Yes, I know how easy
it is to get bogged
down with a company on location.
Have you ever been
bogged down, John?
- No.
- Then why bring it up?
I think it's a very valid point.
Well, I don't.
Well, of course you don't, Paul.
Because while we're in Africa,
sweating and killing ourselves...
you'll be in Paris
sending out memos.
That's not true. I'll be
there in Africa with you.
Like hell you will.
If the picture was shot
in a river in England,
and the second unit
sent out to Africa...
then the risk of using colour
would be greatly minimised.
That would be with
some other director.
We have already discussed that.
Oh, we have, have we?
John, could I talk to you in
the bedroom for a moment?
What's this bullshit
about another director?
You know I wouldn't
do that to you.
You'd sell your mother down
the river to make a deal.
What the hell is the
matter with you,
John? Do you want to
kill this project?
No. No, I don't.
Then why bring up the
possibility of bogging
down? You scared the
bejesus out of them.
Then telling them that
you'd quit if the
picture wasn't made
in Africa. Good God.
If one frame of this picture is
shot in England, I will quit.
But it won't be.
But you discussed it behind
my back, you son of a bitch.
I didn't mention it
because there isn't
a chance it could
be done that way.
You'll guarantee that, I suppose?
Yes, goddamn it. I guarantee it.
Well, your guarantee doesn't
mean a damn thing to me.
I'm not gonna make some fake,
crappy mess just to please you.
So I don't care if
this picture's shot
in black and white
or sepia tone...
or we have to make the whole
damn thing in animation.
Pete and I are going to Africa.
What's the effective
range of this thing?
About 100 yards,
sir. Not much more.
That's plenty for your
buff and your elephant.
They kill them at 20 yards, kid.
Well, even closer than that
sometimes, so they tell me.
Of course, I've never been
to Africa, but this man has.
Makes for invaluable reading.
John Taylor. Big Game
and Big Game Rifles.
We'll need two of these.
We'll take two of these
rifles right here...
and two of the smaller
ones, the Mannlichers 256.
And that's to shoot for
the pot, so to speak.
And then one 12-gauge shotgun.
Always a useful thing
to have along, sir.
And cartridges, of course.
How many rounds, sir?
Two hundred. Two
hundred per weapon.
Planning to be away
quite a while, sir.
Yes.
And Sunrise Films will
send you the check.
John. Be careful.
Irene. For God's sake,
what are you doing here?
You told me to meet you here.
We had an appointment.
Drinks and dinner.
- I dressed.
- Yes.
Well, it plain slipped
my mind. Irene
Saunders, this is Pete Verrill.
Hello.
I admired your last
book enormously.
I'm a writer too.
John's promised to
listen to an idea
I had for a film this evening.
I do hope you'll join us.
You can give me a few pointers.
One writer to another.
It's about a dog. A puppy
dog. He's the hero, the star.
Imagine, John, over the opening
credits, we'll see Horace.
Wonderful, adorable dissolves of
Horace. In close-up. In long shot.
Now, this is the part of the
script I'm not sure about.
The censors might cut it. It turns
out that Horace is in heat.
Horace?
It's a story of mistaken identity.
You see, Horace has a twin. A
bitch. She's called Geraldine.
Now, it's she that's in heat.
Isn't that a wonderful switch?
We'll cut from the Hyde
Park sequence, John,
to an early-morning
shot of the river.
The river.
Horace is alone now.
We dolly with him as
he trots slowly down
a deserted street.
- He turns into Grosvenor...
- What are you doing here?
I have found a copy of the script.
I hope you like it
as much as I do.
I'm sure I will.
Peter. Please.
You must hear the ending.
Horace is all alone. Now,
we'll dolly with him
as he trots slowly down
a deserted street.
Now, from another angle...
Geraldine can be seen
coming down Brook Street.
She passes Claridge's, then
she enters the square.
Suddenly, they see each other.
Horace and Geraldine.
There isn't a human
being in sight. They
race toward each other.
The music swells.
Now, we hold the final picture
in an extreme long shot...
as they meet...
turn...
and go off together.
They've only just begun to live.
Well, that's the end.
They find each other.
Well, isn't that something?
Isn't that something?
Do you really like it?
Well, darling, it's swell.
Come on, we'll talk some more.
Pete.
If there's half as much love in
this old gal as there is talk...
I may be dead in the morning.
Hey, Johnny.
- Morning.
- Morning.
You look like you've been
run through the wringer.
Just part of me.
What's happening, kid? What
do you think of the script?
Well, I'll tell you
the truth. I like it.
- I like it a lot.
- Good.
It's original, it's
exciting and it's moving.
I just have one little
problem with it.
The ending.
You don't like the ending?
No, I didn't say I
don't like the ending.
I'm just not sure that
it's the right one.
Let me put it in Hollywood terms.
I think it's too downbeat.
After everything these
two have gone through:
They fought the river, tropical
storms, the Germans...
And just when you've
set the audience
up for a wonderfully
comic ending...
you blow the ship up
and kill everybody.
Well, Pete, there's an old saying:
"God makes a man
before he kills him."
I've heard it, John.
I've heard it. But
I don't think it
applies in this case.
You're beating the audience
over the head, John.
People don't go to see
pictures to be lectured to.
Tell me, Pete. Do you own a
percentage of this film?
No.
Then why are you so concerned
about the damn audience?
Because we're in
show business, John.
Not me. And not you, either,
when we work together.
You see, we're gods, Pete.
Lousy little gods who control the
lives of the people we create.
We sit up in some
heavenly place and
decide whether they live or die...
on the merits of
what happens to them
in reel one, two,
three, et cetera.
And then we decide if they
have the right to live.
And that's how we
arrive at our ending.
Well, that's what you say, John.
But I say I'm a swell god.
I say they should live because of
everything they've
gone through together.
This world doesn't
necessarily have to
be a hopeless and
rotten place, John.
We're not all destined and doomed
to die of radium poisoning.
Now, I might be
completely wrong...
but that's what makes
me a swell god.
That makes you a flea
on an elephant's ass.
Oh, balls to your pessimism.
You know something?
You're never gonna be
a good screenwriter,
and you know why?
No, John. Why don't
you tell me why?
Because you let 85 million popcorn
eaters pull you this
way and that way.
To write a movie, you must forget
anyone's ever going to see it.
You're gonna make damn
sure nobody sees this one.
Well, maybe I am. But
I figure there's
two ways to live in this world.
One is you can crawl and kiss ass
and write their happy endings...
sign their long-term
contracts and never
take a chance on anything
and never fly...
never leave Hollywood.
Save all your
goddamn money, every cent of it.
And then when you're
a healthy-looking
50, you die of a stroke...
because whatever was
wild in you has
eaten away the muscles
of your heart.
The other way is to let the
chips fall where they may.
Refuse to sign their
contracts and tell
off the guy who can
cut your throat...
and flatter the little guy who's
hanging by a thread that you hold.
John, maybe you shouldn't
be in the picture business.
Well, maybe you're right,
kid. Maybe I shouldn't.
Maybe I should've wandered the
planet gambling on oil wells...
or stolen diamonds or
pimped for maharajahs.
Maybe you should've but
you know why you didn't?
Because somewhere
deep inside of you
is a small, tiny spark of hope.
Hope, hell.
I'll die broke in a
downtown Los Angeles
flophouse. And I won't be bitter.
I'll have contributed maybe
five, 10 damn good pictures.
They'll name a special
Academy Award
for me. And you know something?
All the wrong guys
will get it. And
I'll be in hell,
laughing my ass off.
Romantic futility.
- Your one true love.
- Nothing to be ashamed of, kid.
No, no, no, I didn't say that.
But I admit, you are right
about the ending, John.
I think you should kill them
all and blow everything up.
I knew you'd ultimately
see it my way.
Morning, boys.
If it isn't the
producer, right on cue.
I have just come from a meeting...
and I think the financial
deal is finally set.
- Good. When do I get my take?
- Oh, you'll get it.
I'm glad to see you
boys have been working.
No, we're not working.
We're just warming up, doing
some mental calisthenics.
Well, if you take my advice,
you'll start with the ending.
Oh, yeah?
Now, look, Paul. Don't you go
interfering with the script.
And don't try to influence
my writer, either.
You're an obscene man.
You witnessed the cultural
disintegration of
central Europe...
and you nevertheless
persist on following
the same cheap,
disastrous course...
that led to Hitler over Europe...
World War ll and the atomic bomb.
Meaning the ending stays as it is.
Except for one minor
change. The Germans
kill you too. Over the end title.
Do you have a coat or
something I could borrow?
- Oh, Irene.
- Excuse me.
I can't go out dressed like this.
Irene, I'd like you to meet my
partner. Paul Landers,
our producer.
Irene has the most wonderful
idea for a film, Paul.
Why don't you tell it to
Paul while Pete and I work?
Start from the beginning, darling.
It's about a dog. A puppy
dog. He's the hero, the star.
The dog's name is Horace.
Pete, I should've sent
you back to Switzerland.
I love Paul. He's
such a desperate man.
Are you coming to
Africa with us, Peter?
Yes, I am, Kay.
Thank God. Did you hear that?
Peter's coming with us.
At least we'll have one sane,
reasonable person along.
Won't it be wonderful?
I can't wait.
I've never looked forward
to anything as much.
I just hope John finds us
somewhere comfortable to stay.
Not too comfortable. I should
like to rough it a little.
I'm sure John will make
sure you get your wish.
Probably get us off in some
terrible hole and watch us suffer.
How's the script? How's
the script coming along?
The script? Fine, Kay. I
think you'll like it.
Kay.
I would like to propose a toast...
on behalf of John and myself,
to our British partners.
Hands across the sea.
Cheers.
- Cheers.
- Cheers.
And I also would like
to propose a toast...
to my partner and our
producer, Paul Landers.
Paul, I hope I don't
have to kill you
before this picture's finished.
To Kay.
And to Phil and his
lovely blushing bride.
And to Pete, probably
the best skier
in the Screenwriters Guild...
and the only man I know
who can keep up with me.
The only man I know who's capable
of the dangerous life...
because now he's making a move
on the producer's girlfriend.
And that's right, honey.
He's hung like a stud horse.
Now, doesn't that make you
long for the Dark Continent?
- Thank you, dear.
- Bye-bye.
Feel the mystery of it, kid?
Hello, John. You have a good trip?
A little bit long, I'd say.
John, may I introduce
squadron leader Alec Laing.
And Ralph Lockhart,
our unit manager.
Hello.
This is Pete Verrill. Tom
Harrison, our art director.
- Squadron leader Laing.
- Mr Laing.
- And yours...?
- Lockhart. Ralph Lockhart.
Of course you are.
Well, gentlemen, shall we
get in out of the sun?
You chaps must be about ready
for a bath and a drink.
I'll take care of the baggage
and see you later at the hotel.
Well, the drink part
certainly sounds good to me.
Get out of the way.
Stupid buggers.
Get out of the way.
They knock off about 10 of
them a month along this road.
It doesn't seem to
make the slightest
bloody impression on them, though.
Is that so?
Will you get out
of the bloody way?
Hello, I'm Harry
Longthorne, general
manager of the Lake
Victoria Hotel.
- Harry.
- I'll show you to your rooms.
Excuse me, Mr Verrill,
do you play soccer?
Yes, I do. Why?
We're having the
annual staff soccer
game. We're minus one white.
- Would you be interested?
- Certainly.
We'll have a practise
the Saturday before.
All right.
Pete, this is Mrs
Margaret MacGregor.
- Pleasure to meet you.
- And Mr Marlowe.
He's a licenced white
hunter. Pete's
a crack shot, Marine-trained.
Sit down, have a drink, kid.
I'll have an iced tea, please.
Oh, come on, don't embarrass
me. Give him a beer.
I'll have a beer, please.
We are interested in getting
a couple of elephants.
An elephant is dangerous because
he's such a hearty bugger.
To kill him, you have to hit
him in one of two places.
Between the eyes or in the heart.
Not right between the eyes.
Down about six inches.
"There's been silence
for hours now.
She's sitting on the
back, reading the
Bible. He's still
working on the engine.
Finally he says, 'Miss, I'm
sorry I got drunk. I apologise.
What more can a man do
than say he's sorry?'
She says, 'It's not only your
drinking I'm upset about.
You promised to go downriver.'
He says, 'Miss, listen
to me and understand.
There's death a dozen times
over down that river.'
She says, 'You promised.' He says,
'I'm taking the promise back.'
Silence.
She picks up the
Bible, starts reading
again, completely ignoring him.
Now he can't take the
silence any longer.
Finally he says, 'All
right, miss. You win...
which I'm sure the crocodiles
will be happy to hear.
Down the river we go."'
Well, what do you think, John?
Not bad. But you're trying
to complicate it, Pete.
Things are always good
if they're left simple.
No, not always.
Always. That's what creates truly
important art, is simplicity.
John, there are no rules to art.
There are hundreds of rules.
Hemingway understood that.
That's why he always reduced
life to its simplest terms.
Whether it's courage,
fear, impotence, death.
People's lives just sort
of unfold, and things
just happen to them one
thing after another.
They were never bogged down with
that nonsense of subplot...
that we sweated over in the past.
Stendhal understood that.
Flaubert. Tolstoy. Melville.
Simplicity is what
made them great.
No, Pete. Don't complicate it.
You'll just be wasting your time.
Wasting my time?
I'm wasting my time
trying to make the script
better? Isn't that
why I'm here, John?
And I think it's damn good.
Well, I just wish the damn
script were finished...
so you and I could go on safari.
Safari? I thought we
were gonna finish
the film first and
then go on safari.
If we wait till the film is
finished, we'll never get to it.
We'll finish the script,
then go on safari...
then we'll shoot the film after
we've shot our elephants.
Damn lake flies.
Good job they don't bite.
Come on, whites.
There's a spare man in the middle.
- He tripped over my arm. Please.
- That was a fault.
- That was a fault. Let's go.
- How can that be a penalty?
The local boys are quite
good, aren't they?
Yes.
They went to England last year. Of
course, they didn't
stand a chance.
Why is that?
They're clever with their
feet, but against a
good British team,
they're just too small.
The old blocking and
checking throws them off.
They don't go in for that sort
of thing at all, you see.
Probably be lynched if they did.
We're not like you Americans.
Of course not.
Oh, well done.
Hell of a man, that
boy. Hell of a man.
Where is the defence?
What? What? Watch it.
You all right?
Shit.
We found everything you wanted,
John, but it's bloody awful.
It's no place for a
man to live. It's
the thickest jungle
you've ever seen.
Looks pretty interesting, John.
There's a black-water
river and a few
huts. At night-time
there are mosquitoes.
During the day it rains. There are
elephants, crocodiles, Pygmies.
- Lots of big game, is there?
- Antelope, buffalo.
We saw an elephant from the plane
with tusks right
down to the ground.
Could you lay a plane
on to take us there?
No problem. When you
thinking of going?
Pete?
If I can manage to keep the
script simple, two or three days.
Isn't this just swell...
dining with a beautiful lady
right in the middle of Africa?
Would you care for
some more champagne?
Yes, I would, rather.
Waiter, could you bring
us another bottle
of champagne when
you get the chance?
- Yes. Thank you, sir.
- Thank you.
You know, you spoil
those boys dreadfully.
Well, as good as they play
soccer, they should be spoiled.
They'll be impossible now
for five or six days.
I don't think so. I
think they know the
difference between
sport and real life.
- So, Mrs MacGregor...
- Margaret, please.
Margaret. Margaret,
do you miss London?
Yes, I do, rather.
I don't miss London as much
as I miss the country.
Especially the winter,
when you're out there
with the hounds and
they have the scent...
- crossing a good bit of country.
- Oh, I do agree.
I'm not keen on London.
I had to live there during the war
and I got awfully fed up with it.
Well, I rather enjoyed
it during the war.
The people behaved
so magnificently.
They didn't all behave well. You
probably never left the West End.
Not true, not true. I did a
film about the London Blitz.
I was all over town.
Well, you can't have spent much
time in Soho, where I lived.
Why do you say that, dear?
I thought the people
there were just horrid.
There are an awful lot of
Jews in that neighbourhood.
- Mrs MacGregor.
- Margaret.
Margaret. I must
warn you, I'm a Jew.
- You're not.
- I am.
- No.
- Yes.
You're pulling my leg.
No, I'm not pulling
your leg, Margaret.
I'm a Jew.
I don't believe you.
I know I shouldn't
say this, but...
that was the one
thing about which I
thought Hitler was
absolutely right.
Now, Margaret, the man has
just got through warning you.
Because the Jews in
London were awful.
They ran the black market. And
they didn't go into the army.
And when they did, they got
themselves cushy jobs.
Of course, there were
upper-class Jews,
but I'm not talking about them.
I'm talking about
the kikes in Soho.
- The foreigners.
- Margaret. Margaret.
My grandparents were kikes. My
father and my mother were kikes.
- And I'm a kike.
- That's right, dear.
You're not going to tell
me that you're Jewish too?
No. Absolutely not,
because that would be a
lie, and I wouldn't want
to lie to you ever.
But I would like to tell you
a little story, though.
I love stories.
Well, you mustn't
interrupt now, because
you're way too beautiful
to interrupt people.
When I was in London
in the early '40s...
I was dining one
evening at the Savoy
with a rather select
group of people...
and sitting next to me was a very
beautiful lady,
much like yourself.
- Now you're pulling my leg.
- Now, just listen, dear.
Well, we were dining and
the bombs were falling,
and we were all talking
about Hitler...
and comparing him
with Napoleon, and
we were all being
really brilliant.
And then, suddenly,
this beautiful lady...
she spoke up and said that was the
thing she didn't
mind about Hitler...
was the way he was
treating the Jews.
Well, we all started arguing
with her, of course.
Though, mind you,
no one at the table
was Jewish. But she persisted.
Are you listening, honey?
Mustn't interrupt Daddy.
That's right. You're way
too beautiful for that.
Anyway, she went on to say that
that's how she felt about it...
that if she had her
way, she would kill
them all, burn them in
ovens, like Hitler.
Well, we all sat there in silence.
Then finally, I leaned over to her
and I said, "Madam,
I have dined...
with some of the ugliest
goddamn bitches in my time.
And I have dined with some of the
goddamndest ugly
bitches in this world.
But you, my dear, are the
ugliest bitch of them all."
Well, anyway, she got
up to leave and she
tripped over a chair
and fell on the floor.
And we all just sat there. No
one raised a hand to help her.
And finally when
she picked herself
up, I said to her one more time:
"You, my dear, are
the ugliest goddamn
bitch I have ever dined with."
Well, you know what happened?
The very next day, she reported
me to the American Embassy.
And they brought me
in for reprimand.
And then when they
investigated it...
they found out that
she was a German
agent. And they locked her up.
Isn't that amazing?
Why did you tell me that story?
I don't know.
It wasn't because I thought you
were a German agent, honey.
But I was tempted tonight to say
the very same thing to you.
I didn't want you to think I
had never said it before.
You, madam, are the...
Well, you know the rest.
- Care for some champagne, honey?
- No, thank you.
Pete?
Well, it's getting late. I think
I'd better go back to my room.
- Pete and I will accompany you.
- There's no need.
No bother at all.
Good night, Margaret.
Sorry, John.
I know you wanted to get laid.
That's all right, kid.
You can't help it
if you're a kike.
He says, "Never mind the car
keys. Have you seen the car?"
- You clumsy oaf.
- Dimwit.
- Now look what you've done.
- I'm sorry, boss. I'm sorry.
Come here.
John, where you going?
Pick up that glass, boy.
Damn it, pick it up.
John. What are you up to?
I just want to go talk
to Harry for a moment.
What happened here, Harry?
Well, the little black
bastard spilled
a drink all over this gentleman.
- On purpose?
- Who knows? Black bastards.
Harry, I think you're a yellow,
rotten, sadistic son of a bitch.
Now, Mr Wilson...
I don't have to take that
kind of talk from anyone.
That's right. You don't.
How about going outside and
trying to kick me around?
You're drunk, Mr Wilson.
I am, but that doesn't change the
fact that you're yellow, Harry.
Bright yellow.
I'm not supposed to fight
with the guests, Mr Wilson.
I'm not a guest
tonight, you yellow
bastard. I happen
to be an intruder.
Let's go.
What are you doing? This
doesn't make any sense.
If Mrs MacGregor had
been a man, wouldn't
you have knocked him on his ass?
Yes, I would have. But
this is different.
We fought the preliminary
for the kikes.
Now we're gonna fight the
main event for the niggers.
Go, Harry.
Come on.
- Think the other hand knows how?
- Go, Harry. You got him now.
You got him on the run.
Finish him.
Finish him off, why don't you?
Come on.
Yellow bastard.
Steady on, old man. Fair's fair?
Please don't get up, Mr Wilson.
Aren't you gonna stop it?
Come on.
Where is he? I'll
kill the bastard.
He's called it quits, John.
I told you he was yellow.
I think you had
better get a doctor.
He's hurt that bad?
And he almost killed you.
You're full of crap.
I was about ready
to finish him off
when you grabbed me.
All right. You're back
in your room now, John.
- I am.
- Yeah, it's all over.
How about that?
I feel pretty good, really.
It's like I always tell you, kid.
You gotta fight when you think
it's the right thing to do.
Otherwise, you feel like
your gut's full of pus.
Even if you get the
hell beat out of you.
If you fight, you
feel okay about it.
"Dear Pete: Of all
the wild animals in
Africa, John Wilson
is the wildest.
I beg you to do
everything you can...
Everything you can to
bring him to his senses.
Next time he picks a fight with an
employee of the hotel
or the company...
you have my permission
to hit him from behind.
Will arrive in Africa
in 10 days. Paul.
Good morning. How are we?
Good morning.
- Can I do something for you?
- No. No, you can't, Ralph.
But you can do something
for yourself.
What's that?
Stick to your own job and
stop spying on Wilson.
Spying? What the hell do you mean?
You told Landers Wilson
provoked a fight, didn't you?
And that's bullshit.
Someone should have
hit that bastard a
long time ago, Ralph.
You do realise you're backing
the wrong horse, don't you?
Wilson is the boss,
and there's not
a damn thing you can do about it.
Phone, Mr Lockhart.
London calling.
Yes, all right.
Just remember what I said.
Have a pleasant day.
I would have had him in no
time if you hadn't stopped me.
No, I agree, John. He only
knocked you down 15 times or so.
I was just getting onto
his style. Another
10 minutes, I would've killed him.
- In any case, it was worth doing.
- It certainly was.
I've arranged for you to fly to
a hunting camp on Lake Albert.
You can pick up the Ruki River
there and scout it by boat.
The camp's owned by a
man named Zibelinsky.
He's laid on a safari,
if you have time.
We'll have time.
Mr Wilson, Mr Landers is
on the phone from London.
Well, you tell him
you just missed me.
John, it might be important.
You tell him that
I've gone on a recce.
Goodbye, you worthless
son of a bitch.
Goodbye, you pearl of
Central East Africa.
Goodbye, you lake flies.
Goodbye, you flat-chested,
bucktoothed women.
Goodbye forever.
Hello, anybody home?
Hello. You chaps looking for me?
The name's Hodkins. Your
new aeroplane driver.
This is Mr Wilson, Pete Verrill.
Call me Hod.
If you don't mind, we
better get going. Don't
want to start out
late for the Congo.
Hod, I understand you have never
flown in the Congo before.
I should be able to find the
way. But if I can't, well...
we'll just set down
in one of those
big trees and spend the night.
Only problem with that
is, it's a little
difficult getting it
up the next morning.
Well, as a famous pilot
once said, "It's
all worth it. Including
the final crash."
Well, that's Pete's
philosophy too, isn't it?
I'll get the baggage.
So, this is...
This is really your first
time over the Congo, Hod?
Yeah, quite. Yeah.
Abyssinia.
It's just like the airlines?
- Yes.
- I'll help you.
- It's the spot.
- That's it.
I think I'm getting
the hang of this.
You see this hill here?
The hill. Right here. The hill.
Christ. Where's the stick?
Shit.
Jesus. Oh, dear. Oh,
dear. Oh, dear.
Thanks awfully, old boy.
Pete.
I'm gonna take myself a nap.
Please don't wake
me up unless you're
sure we're going to
crash, because...
I wouldn't want to miss
something like that.
No.
Hey, all that fancy
flying back there
didn't bother you at all, did it?
No, not at all.
It was your friend's idea. I think
he thought it was a good joke.
A joke?
What if the engines
would've stalled out?
Well, I was a bit
worried, but the old
boy seemed awfully
keen on his rib.
The old boy's a pain in the ass.
A bloody valet with wings.
That's what a pilot is out here.
Ranks right up there with writers.
- That's what you do, is it?
- Yeah, that's what I do.
I was wondering
what your part was.
I've got some very bloody funny
stories I should tell you.
A particularly good
one was when the
squadron dog bit me in Khartoum.
- Was his name Horace?
- Horace? No, why?
Forget it.
- You must be Mr Wilson.
- That's right. Mr Zibelinsky.
Delighted.
This is Pete Verrill and
Hodkins, our pilot.
Quite a place you have
here, Mr Zibelinsky.
Thank you.
Well, by George, here they are.
The hunters from Hollywood.
How did you get here?
Came with a pilot
who knew the way.
Right this way, Mr Wilson.
I think I found a steamboat
for you, Mr Wilson.
You have? When can I
take a look at it?
Day after tomorrow.
I'm having her put in dry
dock to check her bottom.
The Belgians want a bloody great
bond posted before
we can use it...
but we'll talk them
out of that one.
Where's Harrison this evening?
Down on the other location,
near Ponthierville.
Mr Landers is still trying
to get in touch with you.
I'm sure.
We're going hunting
in the morning.
Would you like to
go with us, Ralph?
Customs bloke's coming over from
Tatsumu to log all my stuff in.
I say...
is he always like this just
before a production starts?
Like what, Ralph?
He acts as if he
couldn't care less.
He'll be fine, Ralph...
once he's killed an elephant.
Good evening, gentlemen.
John, this is my wife, Dorshka.
- What a pleasure indeed, dear.
- Hello.
You know Ralph Lockhart?
- Yes, we met this afternoon.
- And this is Peter Verrill.
- Hello.
- Hello. Welcome.
So you are a big-game
enthusiast also?
Well, more or less.
Well, it's a pleasure
to have you here.
It's a pleasure to
have you all here.
I hope you found your
quarters comfortable.
This is simply paradise.
Absolute paradise here.
In fact, I'm seriously thinking
of staying here forever.
Come on. Heave it.
- Well, what do you think of her?
- She's beautiful. Perfect.
Well, not quite.
She's very old, you
see? And according
to the skipper, not
all that seaworthy.
- Oh, she will be.
- Well, yes.
For everything except the
white-water sequence.
The skipper says it would
be far too dangerous.
She'd fall apart if you attempted
to run the rapids with her.
Actually, I called Mr Landers
and told him about it.
He suggested... Well, I
should say, he insisted...
that you cut the sequence
out of the film.
- He did?
- Right.
Wrong.
No, she looks sound to me.
Of course, there's only one way
to find out, isn't there, Ralph?
Do stop.
Stop, please. Stop.
Shit.
Are you convinced, Ralph? Or
would you like to continue on?
Oh, no.
I'm convinced.
So am I.
Well, has anyone heard
from our chief hunter yet?
He should be here soon. I sent one
of the boys over to fetch him.
Good.
Our chief hunter.
For God's sake, let's have him in.
Explain to him what we want.
We want to go after some game.
Buffalo, preferably an elephant.
This man is wonderful.
What's his name?
Kivu.
He's called Kivu because he
went on a trip there once.
I must say, Kivu is amazing. He
found elephant tracks that big.
A whole herd. Only
darkness prevented us
from going on. Tell
him to sit down.
He says he prefers to stand.
Oh. Good evening, gentlemen.
So did the Hollywood hunters
have any luck today?
Tell Kivu to get a
good night's rest.
We'll be leaving at 5:00 in the
morning. We'll get
our elephant then.
I talked to Mr Landers in
London. He's quite hysterical.
He wants to talk to you tomorrow.
I told him that we
could drive you down
to the border and use
that phone there.
- You did, did you?
- You'll be on safari, I suppose.
You're welcome to come along
with us if you'd like, Ralph.
No Hollywood safaris for me.
That word has crept
into the conversation
quite a few times, hasn't it?
- Which word is that, sir?
- Hollywood.
I realise it's the
name of a place, but
the way you say it has
an added meaning.
Like an insult.
Well, I didn't mean it like that.
Don't contradict me, Ralph.
I've heard it all before.
In the Army, in New York...
in the theatre. Hell,
I've heard it everywhere.
People say Hollywood when
they want to insult you.
Well, really Hollywood is just a
place where they make a profit.
It's a factory town like Detroit
or Birmingham or Schaffhausen.
Because the cheap
element of the town
has been so overly advertised...
it becomes an insult to
remind a man he's from there.
They're not talking about the
people who work there...
and that try to do
something worthwhile.
They're talking about the whores
when they mention Hollywood.
You know what that word
means, don't you, Ralph?
- Sure.
- Sure.
Whores have to sell
the one thing that
shouldn't be for
sale in the world.
And that's love.
Of course, there are
other kinds of whores
than the floozies you
frequent, Ralph.
There are whores who sell
words and ideas and melodies.
I know what I'm
talking about because
I've done a little
hustling in my time.
A hell of a lot more than
I'd like to admit to.
And what I sold when I was
whoring I'll never get back.
What I'm trying to
say, it's the whores
who put Hollywood
up as a big target.
Sure.
Hell, John, I didn't realise
you were such a home-town boy.
Well, I am, kid. I am
when I'm in Africa.
Yeah.
No, I'm serious. It took Africa
to bring all this out in me.
Africa and the smell of
my first wild elephant.
It's a shame Kivu couldn't
have heard you say that, John.
Oh, Kivu knows. Kivu knows
without being told.
John, why don't you ask Kivu to
go back to Hollywood with you?
Not a bad idea, kid. He could
be mighty useful around there.
Yeah.
Where are we going
this morning, John?
A place Kivu knows.
And he says a lot of
elephant go there
this time of year.
I was wondering. How do
you two communicate?
Oh, we get on. I asked
him this morning
about going back to
the States with me.
Zib here actually acted
as my interpreter.
- What did he say?
- Said he didn't know.
Said he'd have to think about it.
That it was a very big decision.
He says we're getting close.
He says they're in
there, but he thinks
it best if only two shooters go.
- Pete, are you ready?
- No, you and Zib are plenty.
- You're not coming?
- No, I'll wait here.
Now, look, kid. I've never
given you much advice.
I've never forced
you to do anything.
But this time it's different.
I think you should come.
I urge you as a friend.
No, you just go on in there,
John. I'll wait here.
If you don't come, you'll regret
this as long as you can remember.
I don't want to shoot an elephant.
That's besides the point.
If you don't come, it's because
you're scared. And you know it.
All right, well, I guess I'll
just have to live with that.
John. John, hold your fire.
John, don't shoot.
It's too dangerous. Hold your
fire. Come back slowly. Come on.
This is him. This is the
one I'm looking for.
It's not safe. There
are too many cows
around. Come back slowly. Come on.
Just come. Do as I
tell you. Come on.
I've never seen one before,
outside the circus or the zoo.
They're so majestic.
So indestructible.
They're part of the earth.
They make us feel
like perverse little
creatures from another planet.
Without any dignity.
Makes one believe in God.
In the miracle of creation.
Fantastic.
They're part of a world
that no longer exists, Hod.
Feeling of unconquerable time.
You certainly have
a way with words,
Pete. No wonder you're a writer.
So, what happened, John? Weren't
you able to get close enough?
We got close enough, but I
wouldn't let him shoot.
Too many cows around the big
fellow. They'd have charged.
That was the biggest
tusker in all of Africa.
It would have been a
risk well worth taking.
- You all right?
- I'm all right.
John.
Come on, let's face it. This
country's too tough for us.
We're just characters
from Vine Street.
We're not heroes out
of one of your films.
Come on.
Get up.
You know, kid, we're gonna end up
together. When we're old, that is.
Probably live in a cabin
up in the Sierras
and pan for gold.
Have a couple mules.
Sit around the campfire at
night. Tell lies to each other.
Yeah.
About all the things we've done.
The wars we fought. Books you've
written, movies I've made.
You know, I don't
doubt that, John.
You'll need two, possibly three
cameras on the fire
sequence, John.
If you could just
initial these plans, I
can go ahead and
start construction.
It was a risk to all of us.
A herd of cows can go
rogue very quickly
if they have their
young with them.
There have been rogue
herds created in
Kenya and Tanganyika
in just such a way.
And then they have to go out and
shoot every bloody one of them.
All right. All right. Forget
it. We'll try again tomorrow.
Tomorrow morning.
Tomorrow afternoon,
we leave. I have another safari.
You have to get started
on the film, John.
You can leave if you
want. I'm staying.
The company arrives in Entebbe
the day after tomorrow.
I'm staying.
Jesus Christ. Will
you be reasonable?
I am being reasonable.
I don't give a goddamn
if the company gets
here tomorrow or got
here three days ago.
I'm staying till I
get my elephant.
You need someone with you.
You can't hunt alone.
Kivu will go with me.
What about that fellow
at the fishery?
The one who used to be game warden
down on the Zambezi. Ogilvy?
Yes. Yes, that's the
man. Yes, they say
he killed over 500
elephants in his day.
Well, let's get him up here.
John, how long do you
plan on staying?
Well, that depends upon the
elephants. And on the guides.
If Ogilvy turns out to
be another old lady
like the rest of you,
it may take months.
But if he's half the man Kivu
is, it may take no time at all.
What's the matter, kid?
Go ahead and spit it out.
You're sitting around
stewing like a
dame who's just been
kicked out of bed.
You're either crazy...
or the most egocentric,
irresponsible
son of a bitch that I've ever met.
You're about to blow this whole
picture out of your nose, John.
And for what?
To commit a crime.
To kill one of the rarest,
most noble creatures...
that roams the face
of this crummy earth.
And in order for you
to commit this crime,
you're willing to forget
about all of us...
and let this whole goddamn
thing go down the drain.
You're wrong, kid.
It's not a crime to
kill an elephant.
It's bigger than all that.
It's a sin to kill an elephant.
Do you understand? It's a sin.
It's the only sin that you can buy
a licence and go out and commit.
That's why I want
to do it before I
do anything else in this world.
Do you understand me?
Of course you don't.
How could you? I don't
understand myself.
Well, if you don't
need me, then I'll
take the plane to London tomorrow.
You do that. I've never
been one to interfere
with anything a friend
of mine wants to do.
How do you do? It's
nice to meet you.
Welcome. My wife.
- Hello. How do you do?
- Good morning, welcome.
Nice to meet you.
Nice to meet you.
How do you do?
- Well, hello.
- Welcome. Welcome.
Miss Gibson. Right here.
Pete.
Pete. Where's John?
Why isn't he here?
I'm going back to London
on the next flight, Paul.
What happened? Where's
John? Where's the script?
I sent you the script.
Didn't you get it?
I got half of it.
- There's only one copy?
- No. John has the original.
If he hasn't lost it,
which he probably has.
- How are you, Pete?
- Hi.
- Where's the ogre?
- He's out scouting locations.
I hope you boys have
improved the script.
What Kay means is, is her
part gonna get bigger?
Not at all. I don't mind if you do
the talking and I
don't say a word.
As long as I get to play
a real human being.
Beautiful, Kay. Come with me.
Come this way. To the side.
Mr Duncan. Can we have one
of you with your new bride?
How do you want it, boys?
Passionate or domestic?
Can we have a kiss?
Thank you very much.
Peter, think. Think
what will happen to the
morale of the company
if you go back.
They'll think
something terrible is
wrong. I can't start
a picture that way.
Paul, don't you
understand? Something
terrible is wrong. The
man has the fever.
It's just like any passion. It's
irresponsible and
it's destructive.
I understand how you
feel, but we've got
a picture to make.
You've got to stay.
You've got to help me
get him back. If he's
not back in three days,
we'll all be ruined.
Apologise to him.
Go on, apologise to him.
No. I won't apologise
to him, Paul,
but I'll tell you what I will do.
I'll get that script
from him. Because
you hired me to write a script.
And it's the best
writing I've ever done.
And I'll be goddamned if I'll
let that bastard destroy it.
- Hello, chaps.
- Where's John?
Well, believe it
or not, he's gone.
Gone where?
He's visiting Kivu's village up
in Semuliki. It's the truth.
Ogilvy and Kivu
convinced him that's
the best place to
find a big tusker.
- So off they went.
- Shit.
- And how far is that from here?
- About six miles.
Most of it through swamp.
- There's been a change in plans.
- What's that?
The boss has decided to start
shooting the film there.
Made up his mind yesterday
when we finally
cleared the trucks
through customs.
He seems to think Kivu's village
is much more authentic.
The company can stay
at the hunting camp.
Have a pleasant day.
There it is, there. That
must be the village there.
I don't believe it.
I just don't believe it.
What about the village we built
at Masindi? It cost a fortune.
Lockhart says John plans to
use that for the big fire.
He'll move back there once
he's finished in the Congo.
I'm not going to let
him do it. I'm not
going to send people
to a place like that.
I'll call off the picture first.
You've already invested
over 100,000 pounds, Paul.
I'll pay it back if it
takes the rest of my life.
Why don't you just tell
everybody that it'll be rough.
But it'll make for a
distinguished film.
No, we can't do that.
- Why not?
- Because we can't.
Either we call it off or
we play along with Wilson.
We can be honourable or crooked.
There's no middle road.
Well, I don't agree with you.
I've always found that it's
better just to tell the truth.
If I had always told
the truth, Pete,
I would now be a cake of soap.
Does this look
familiar to you, Pete?
Yes, Paul, we're getting close.
It's awfully primitive.
Where's the hotel?
Well, here it is.
Home away from home.
Well, I think this
is quite lovely.
Holy shit.
Oh, do come in, chaps. Do come in.
I've been looking forward
to seeing you again.
May I present Madam Dorshka and
Mr Zibelinsky, our hosts.
Well, this is glorious.
This is marvellous.
And this is Count Ogilvy,
my new white hunter.
Hello, John.
- So wonderful to be here.
- Excuse my friend.
How do you do? Very
glad to see you.
Hello, John.
- Hello, John.
- Pleasure to see you all.
- How you doing?
- Cheers.
Well, have some champagne,
everyone, and let's get with it.
- Cheers, John.
- With the evening.
I trust you all enjoyed
our borscht à la Russe?
Excellent. Absolutely first class.
Spiffing.
And now we have the
piêce de résistance.
It's a freshly killed
reedbuck from Semuliki plain.
The female of the
species, just to prove
that God does not let
man off the hook.
So I told Anatole
that he should not
let Paulette ever do that again.
John, can we stop playing games?
Playing games, dear fellow?
I don't quite understand.
Well, we have to get
started tomorrow.
Red has to go out to the location.
You have to check the costumes.
I'm willing to do anything
you suggest, dear boy.
That is, within reason, of course.
Well, first of all can
you drop that phoney
English accent? And
for God's sakes...
abandon your role of the
great white hunter...
and become a movie director again.
Listen, you Balkan rug peddler...
my role of the great hunter, as
you put it, is my own business.
It has nothing to do with
you. It's a sacred subject.
Much like the sex
life of my mother.
It's something you'll refrain from
talking about or
even thinking about.
It's way too difficult
a subject for
your small little brain to grasp.
It's a passion that's beyond you.
I'd have to explain
to you the sound of
the wind and the
smell of the woods.
I'd have to create you
all over again...
and stamp out all
those years you spent
on the dirty pavement
in cramped shoes.
I'm not interested
in your hunting.
It doesn't mean a
thing to me except
when it interferes
with the picture.
How is it interfering
with the picture? When?
I haven't even gotten the last
section of the script yet.
Oh, dear. Well, I'll
correct that immediately.
Kivu.
You've finished your
rewrites, have you?
He polished it, Pete, and
gave it a little balls.
It has to be typed.
Copies have to be made.
The ape.
Somebody get hold of
the goddamned ape.
Frontal brain shot. And for
God's sake, don't miss.
Oh, God. This makes
it all so worthwhile.
- Oh, isn't this wonderful?
- My God, what a performance.
They really love him, don't they?
They sure do.
Or, if you've got time this
afternoon, we could...
John, scene 244.
Pete, I'm surprised
to see you here, last
night. I thought
you'd be in Paris...
devoting yourself to
literature and all
those things you
know nothing about.
Yeah? Well, I thought you'd
have your big tusker by now.
Stick around, kid. Stick around.
When do we start?
Shit.
No shooting today, folks.
Where you going, John? John.
I'm going hunting. We can't
shoot the sequence in the rain.
Well, how long will the rain last?
Oh, it could last for days.
It's the beginning
of the rainy season.
Why didn't somebody tell
us about a rainy season?
I did. I told Mr Wilson.
He just said, well,
the days he couldn't
shoot the film, he
could shoot elephant.
At this rate, I'll be in
debt the rest of my life.
- Come here, you little devil.
- Now, I feel this...
this change is
appropriate, but John
seems to think it's
a bit complicated.
Why complicated?
That's a good question,
Kay. And if I
could sit John down
someday, I'd ask.
No luck? No elephants?
Well, we saw plenty of
them. We just didn't
see the big tusker.
The one I want.
We'll get one. These rains won't
stop for another week yet.
You think so?
Shit.
It's going to be a clear day. We
can finally start the picture.
I'm sending the company
to Kivu's village.
John, we've been sitting
here for five days.
We're already a week behind.
We haven't even got one shot.
All right.
All right. Let's make a movie.
I'll believe that when I see it.
Boss. Boss. Boss.
He never looks at the
script, does he?
Nope. He's afraid he'll lose
his artistic spontaneity.
What are you two grousing
about? What's wrong, Paul?
I'm on the spot. I'm ready to
make magic. Make you rich.
What the hell's the
matter with you?
Nothing.
Wait. John. Kivu sent him.
He's onto a big herd.
- Is that right?
- About three miles from here.
What are we waiting on?
John, the sky is clear.
You've got plenty
of unloading to do.
Plenty of work.
I'll be right back.
Well, how do I know
you'll come back?
Send your boy Pete if
you don't trust me.
Go with him. Make sure he doesn't
forget we're starting a picture.
He doesn't need me.
That's right. And it may be risky.
You're onto a big one?
What's he saying?
We'll leave the boy here.
John.
Please, let's go back.
They're waiting for us.
Well, let them wait.
Bad country, this.
Walk right up to a
big tusker before
you'd ever see him.
What's he saying?
He says they're just
beyond these trees.
It's a big one, all
right. But there
are cows and young ones with him.
- What do we do?
- It's no good. I don't like it.
- What does Kivu say?
- I don't care what he says.
I've killed more than
500 of them. And
I'll tell you, this
is not the day.
How many chances does a man get?
That's never a reason
to do something wrong.
Would you ask Kivu what he thinks?
He says he's willing to try.
Of course he's willing.
He's got guts.
Jesus Christ, John. Give it up.
It's his word against
mine, Mr Wilson.
I'm asking, will you come along?
Come on, Kivu.
No.
What are they saying, Ogilvy?
What are the drums saying?
They're telling everybody what
happened, that's
all. The bad news.
It always starts
with the same words.
What are they?
White hunter. Black heart.
White hunter. Black heart.
You were right, Pete. The
ending is all wrong.
John, we're ready.
All right, quiet please,
everyone. Ready, Miss Gibson?
Ready, Mr Wilson?
Roll them.
Speed.
- Mark it.
- Scene one, take one.
Action.