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What a God almighty fucking waste of time.

Jesus, what's eating you now?

The title character has
had a cardiac infarction.

Bruce is dead.

Well, at least he's consistent.

They'll just get another
one from the boat shed.

How many of those things
have they got, anyway?

Three? Four?

I mean, we've been on
this boat, what, five days?

None of them fucking work.

This whole thing is a disaster.

Christ. It's cold.

Is this thing working?

Let me try.

That should do it.

Jesus.

What are they doing to it?

Don't ask me, man.

Why did it take so goddamn long?

Well, it's not the time it takes to
take the take that takes the time.

It's the time it takes between the
takes that takes the time to take the take.

How much time did that take you?

Why are the goddamn things so unreliable?

You know, they can put a man on the moon,

but they can't make a
mechanical fish that floats.

I was talking with Bob, and
as I understand it, it's to do

with the dynamics of the mechanism.

You see, Bruce is powered by
pneumatics, right, rather than hydraulics?

Well, because oil and water don't mix.
Right.

Well, Bruce is designed to be
a neutral weight, so he floats.

But pneumatics uses compressed
air and compressed air causes

fluctuations in the weight.

So the longer he's out there and the
more he moves, the heavier he gets.

That's fascinating, Roy.

You know, makes me think it would
have been easier to get a real shark.

You serious?

Sure.

Why not? Just get a tame shark.

How hard can it be?

You ever seen a real live shark?

I'm from Queens, man!

Of course I've never
seen a real live shark.

Richard, you cannot tame a shark.

No? No. What are you going to do?

He eats someone, you tap him on the nose.

He doesn't need someone
to throw him a cookie.

Anyway, weather guy says
there's a warm front moving in.

Plenty of sunshine; Maybe catch some rays?

Yeah?

I look like the kind of guy
who likes to catch some rays.

My skin bypasses tan and
goes directly to sunstroke.

I'll not get rich and it
lowers your blood pressure.

Lift your mood and gives you vitamin D.

Is this the way you saw
your career panning out?

My first picture was Valley of the Dolls.
Oh, who were you in that?

Ach, I'm in it for all
of forty-five seconds.

There's one line. I'm just an extra really.

What was your first one?

Oh, a little Oscar winner

you may have heard of called
The Curse of the Living Corpse.

Oh, really?

Yeah. Not exactly Shakespeare, huh?
No.

You've done Shakespeare, right, Roy?

Yeah, sure - Romeo and Juliet at
the New York Shakespeare Festival.

I was Mercutio.

Yeah. I'm going to do Shakespeare someday.

I just haven't decided which
role I'd be best suited to.

Hamlet or Prince Hal?

Oh, hey, you know, Robert works
all the time with Harold Pinter.

I'm going to get him to hook me up.

Jesus, I never thought
I'd miss West Hollywood.

I mean that's where I should be
instead of freezing my balls off here.

But I guess the film
wouldn't work without me.

Come again?

Well, Hooper's the, the
brains of the operation,

the scientist, the rationalist.

I mean, without him, there's no shark hunt!

No movie!

Now, that's one way of looking at it.

D'you read the book?

Um, yeah. You did?

They told me not to read
it, said it might confuse me.

So what's it like?

Well, it's no Great
Gatsby. Okay.

But you know what they say.

It's easier to make a good
movie out of a bad book

than out of a great book.

Is that so?

Well, I don't know, but he, I mean, Steven.

Well, he's changed a
lot of things for the script.

Yeah?
Yeah, like, for example, in the book,

Hooper is having an
affair with Brody's wife.

He is?

Damn!

What do you think of Steven?

Oh, well, first thing is, I think
people underestimate him.

You know, he may just be a kid, but
he's an old head on young shoulders.

Having said that, I think
he may be clinically insane!

Really? Yeah.

He's shooting on the ocean.

Nobody shoots on the ocean!

I mean, do you know how
many water tanks Universal has?

I mean, you know what it's like
man, you work your butt off, you're

- at the mercy of nature.
- Wind, rain, tides, sun -

overexposure to all of them.

Jews should stay away from water.

Nothing good ever happened
to any Jew on the water.

Didn't Jesus walk on water?

Yeah!

And look what happened to him.

I mean, call me old fashioned,
but I think when you're making

a four-million-dollar studio
picture, you should have a script.

You know, it seems to me when
we talk about something over dinner

and the next day it's in
the scene Gottlieb hands us!

I mean, he can't make big-budget
Hollywood movies on the fly, man.

One of the crew told me we are
already two million dollars over budget.

Who told you that?

Was it Tom? Sure sounds like it's true.

And we still got all the
shark stuff left to shoot.

If the fucking thing ever
starts working, that is.

Otherwise, we're going to be in Planet
of the Apes without the monkeys, man!

Hey, this is going to be such
a turkey, why did you sign up?

Oh, I fucked up, is what happened.

I shot this thing last year - The
Apprenticeship of Duddy Kravitz …

Serious drama, and I thought
“This is it, baby, this is the big time.

This is going to make you a star!”

But I went to the premiere
up in Montreal, and,

fuck, man, I stink in it.

But I was the same
with American Graffiti.

So I'm watching a rough cut, right?

I go clammy cold.

All of a sudden I'm seeing me...
I'm shaped like Smokey the Bear...

and I've got this awful monotonal
nasal voice and I'm the worst, right?

And George Lucas sees me
and says “What do you think?”

And I say “Well, George, it's a nice
movie, and I've already figured out

how you can cut me out.”
Lucas told me I was crazy.

Oh, you were terrific. It's a great film.

Hey, you know, when I signed Dick

let slip that the studio wanted
Charlton Heston for Brody!

Yeah? You know who they wanted for Hooper?

Jon Voight!

You know that big, blonde son of a bitch.

How the hell they end up with us?

I guess Steven doesn't like big stars.

Doesn't like big stars?

Why the hell not?

I don't know, I guess
for reasons of realism.

Oh, realism.

They got a shark out
there the size of a truck.

They're worried about realism?!
Well maybe it's a new kind of movie.

I mean, you've seen
2001, right? Kubrick's film?

No big names in that..

Yeah, and that movie made
absolutely no sense whatsoever.

Hey, you know Robert told me that
Kubrick offered him a leading role in it.

Really? What, one of the astronauts?

No. Actually he wanted
him to play the lead ape.

Wait, really?

Robert turned him down, said “You're
not going to make a monkey out of me!”

Oh, man that is perfect casting!

Shaw the ape-man.

The Neanderthal!

This fucking weather.

Christ I hate this place.

Fucking New England.

People look at me like they've
never seen a Jew before.

I'd say it's a distinct
possibility they haven't.

I feel like I'm in the goddamn zoo.

I'm out of place here,
man. This is not Queens.

No, It's not.

No, no, no, the people here are a
bunch of white, Protestant, Lutheran,

stick-up-butt, bridge-playing,
clam-chowder-eating, shitheads!

Ladies.

You sick of that clam chowder too?

Oh God, yes! How long
have we been shooting?

Seven weeks? Eight!

Oh, I get away from here,
I'm not touching seafood

for the next twenty years, man.

Christ, what I wouldn't
go for a simple plate

of devil led kidneys on toast.

I've no idea what the fuck
that is, but it sounds disgusting.

You're a philistine boy.

Did you have any trouble
getting to set, Robert?

My driver took me via the
Edgartown Vineyard Haven Road, but

the traffic was terrible so we dropped down

to the Edgartown West Tisbury Road...

Roy stop!

You're talking know,
talking about roads again!

If I have any trouble
getting to sleep tonight

you can come over to
mine and tell me all about it.

What are you reading? Damon Runyon.

Who's that?

Christ, the lights are on,
but there's nobody home.

One of your compatriots, but far superior.

Richard, you must have
heard of Damon Runyon.

Well, must I? I mean, you can't expect me
to know everything.

I think our mistake is
expecting you to know anything.

So, Roy, what does The Times
have to say about Nixon today?

“Almost forgotten, by the time

Mr. Nixon tendered his
resignation, were his days of glory

only two years ago, when he
began dismantling the cold war

that had dominated American
politics for a quarter century,

with his dramatic journeys to
Peking and Moscow and the signing

of the first limitation on the
deadly nuclear arms race.

Almost forgotten were his successes
in ending American involvement

in the bitterly divisive Vietnam
War and in halting the draft.

Gone was the sweeping mandate

Mr. Nixon had won from the
American electorate in November, 1972,

when he carried forty-nine states

(all but Massachusetts
plus the District of Columbia)

- With the help of what he
liked to call 'The silent majority' -

the middle-class Americans of the
suburbs and small towns and farms.

Gone were the dreams
of an historic realignment

that would make the Republicans
the majority party by stripping

blue-collar workers and Southerners
from Franklin D. Roosevelt's coalition.”

I am not a crook!

Jesus, they makes him sound like a saint.

Fuck him!

The man appalls me, but I can't help
feeling some curious sort of pity for him.

You pity him? Why?
I think he hates himself.

What a president! Christ!

The only thing to be said for all this...

there will never be a more
immoral president than Tricky Dicky.

Hey, you know you know
who kind of looks like Nixon?

Murray.

He does!

I wonder if that's why
Steven cast him as the mayor?

Hey, do you know what they're doing to it?

According to the lad Joyner, the
damn fool contraption has salt water

in its workings.

It's going to take at least an hour to
hoist it out of the brine and drain it.

I think we may have
underestimated the power of the sea.

Yes lads - we have angered Neptune.

Oh, I think you mean Poseidon.

Christ, what did they teach you at school?

They're the same bloody god!

Oh, shit. I knew that.

What, you think I'm an idiot?

I presume that's a rhetorical question.

Oh by the way, Robert, have you seen the
latest version of the Indianapolis speech.

D'you read it? Uhhh, yeah. Get off!

By Christ,

there's some stinky writing here!

And it's five pages long!

We're not doing a bloody play!

I'm not sure even
Olivier could make it work!

I think they might have to cut it.

They can't cut it - it's
the heart of the film.

It explains why Quint's a fucking maniac.

Listen...

I just wanted to tell you how
much I loved your Claudius.

You were the best Claudius I've ever seen.

Do you think I could do Shakespeare?

No.

Are you going to be here
for the rest of our lives?

I hope to God not! What
a godforsaken place.

Have either of you noticed
certain facial features

keep cropping up with
the locals round here?

There's a nose and a jawline
that I keep seeing again and again.

Now, you mentioned it...

I don't suppose there's much
else to do here in the winter months.

Might as well cuddle up with your sister.

Hey, did you

know that Bob built the squid for
20,000 Leagues Under The Sea?

Did he now?

The technicians are bloody wonderful.

We should have shot it in a goddamn tank!

It's gruelling and pointless!

It wouldn't look the same in a tank.

The story's important,
the shark's important,

but the sea is crucial.

I wouldn't have taken the job if
we were shooting in a bloody tank.

Okay.

You think you're working too hard, do you?

You think you're overstretched?

You Beverly Hills milk puff!

Well, do you?

I think I'm pretty much
busting my balls, yes.

Good god!

When they call wrap and take us
in speedboats back to the local bar

and you drape yourself in a
blonde or - what was it last night?

A brunette - what do you
think the crew are doing?

Those poor bastards have been
freezing their arses off in the water

half the time, and then they have
to clean and maintain the cameras,

reweld, repatch, and all
the other lugging, striking,

and general shit that we never see -
why do you think we're first at the bar?

Mike has to balance the camera
on his shoulders and flex his legs

to keep the dancing horizon

steady in shot - do you know
how physically demanding that is?

If you punched his torso, you'd
break your little TV actor's hand.

The divers' fingers are cut
to pieces by the barnacles -

and you sit there whining
like a fucking baby!

Jesus, you are a vindictive
motherfucker you know that?

Fellas, if we really are going to
be here for the rest of our lives,

let's try to make the best of it.

It'll be worth it in the end, I suppose.

What, you think this is going to be a hit?

Best films I've been in have made no
money, and the worst have made a fortune.

And which category do we fit into?

Well, let me put it like this.

I offered my whole salary plus the overage

for a percentage of the profits.

Zanuck and Brown turned me down.

So it'll be terrible but make a bundle.

What do you think?

Do you imagine it's going
to be a second Citizen Kane?

Bread and circuses, chums.

I pray this is

as simpleminded as
Hollywood films ever get.

Cinema for “the people” then?

The lowest common denominator, Roy.

Interesting...

What?

Well, I'd heard that
you were a “socialist”?

What did you say?

Well, I'd be interested to learn

how you square your left wing principles
with the large sums of money you make.

I mean, presumably you donate
your entire wages to the workers.

You little turd, in England
they tax you ninety percent!

Oh, so that's why you live in Ireland!

Oh.

An apple a day...

What?

Keeps the doctor away.

That's what they used to say, boy.

You could do with a few of these, you know.

And some exercise.

You're in terrible shape for a
man your age. It's a tragedy.

Now, wait a minute!

A little man like you can't
carry that amount of fat.

What?

You're a disgrace!

I bet you couldn't even do ten press-ups.

What is this, West Point?

Or even five!

I'll give you a hundred dollars right now

if you can do five press-ups.

A hundred dollars?

Alright!

Richard...

No no no no no no no, if he wants
press-ups I'll give him press ups.

And they're called push-ups.

Go on then, we're waiting!

Okay. One! Back straight. No cheating!

Two!

D'you know how much money I
have to make to look after my family?

Three!

A simple trip to McDonald's restaurant
in Los Angeles cost me fifty dollars!

And then there's school fees... Four!

Damn!

Wait wait wait.

Fifty dollars in McDonald's?

How many kids you got?

Nine... so far.

You're going to need a bigger boat!

Oh, Jesus...

Sorry guys, I really love that line.

Did you make that line up?

I don't know, Steven yelled it out
before he called action, but I nailed it.

Whoopty-do. You have nine children?

You know, they sell prophylactics
at any reputable drug store.

Hahaha!

How about you, Roy?

No, just one. A little girl.

Hey, any of yours want to be actors?

Christ, I hope not!

It's a shriveling profession, isn't it?

Brutal for women.

There are worse jobs. You know what I mean.

It's no job for a grown up.

Actors are children, aren't they?

Present company accepted...

partially accepted.

So, what's your idea of
a “grown-up” occupation?

I mean, should we all join the army?

Oh Jesus, no no no no no, count me out.

No, that shit is not for me.

No, they didn't get me in 'Nam.

I was a “conscientious objector.”
I worked at a hospital in LA.

Hahaha!

Hey, it was plenty
dangerous at that hospital!

Yes. I'm certain you stubbed
your toe on more than one occasion!

Screw you man!

What, I have to apologise
because I didn't put on a uniform

and go about killing people?

No one's asking you to
apologise for anything, Richard.

Yeah well, I got morals, principles.

“Give peace a chance!” That's what I say.

Nonviolence - talk things over.

Hell, if Nixon and Kissinger
and Brezhnev and Min and Mao

all got together and smoked a little
weed, all our problems would be solved!

How profound.

You sound like a village idiot!

I get what you're saying
Rich, but you know,

god knows 'Nam is 'Nam, but don't

you think sometimes you have to fight -
maybe even die - for what you believe in?

I think I'm going to be sick.

That's something of an overreaction.

Hasn't got his sea legs yet!

You know, he adores you. He adores himself.

No, he does, he's very keen for
you to introduce him to Harold Pinter.

Good God, what a car crash that would be.

I heard he's quite a character.
He'd eat Richard alive.

All that would be left
would be a pile of bones.

I'm okay. False alarm!

Jesus!

Two weeks, I can't get rid of the
stink of that rotting fish out of my nose.

Oh, that shark was ripe when it
came out the box and it only got worse.

It makes sense, so - I
looked this up, it's fascinating.

Here we go...

Sharks are one of the quickest species
to decompose because they're so primitive

-they're, like, four
hundred million years old.

They're older than trees!

No skeletons, just cartilage.

Sharks don't have skeletons?

Nobody told me this.

Oh. Get this: Sharks have
survived five mass extinction events.

Five?! Yeah, scientists figured
there's going to be another one.

It's something to do with the weather.

You know, things will get real hot.

Humans will die. Mammals. But sharks...

they're just going to
keep on swimming around.

Hell, they might even
become the dominant species.

If this film survives, perhaps it
will be watched by sharks one day.

Yeah - but to them, it'll
be a tragedy about a mild

mannered shark just going
about his day, eating a few people

who get senselessly
murdered by three assholes!

...two sharks leaving the
cinema, one says to the other.

“Well, I quite liked it,
apart from the ending.”

I guess it puts it all
into perspective, right?

The human race will cease to exist someday

and here we are worrying
about a stupid movie.

Hey, don't knock this “stupid movie.”
This is going to make us famous.

Is that why you're doing this?

Well,

who doesn't want to be a movie star?

Speak for yourself.

I'd rather be known for my writing. Jesus!

The problem with the acting profession

these days is that every little
pissant wants to be a movie star, but

nobody wants to play a Wednesday
matinee at the Stockton-on-Tees Forum!

I had this bellboy come
up to me the other day

who told me he'd love to be famous like me.

He got it the wrong way round.

Fame is the by-product.

It is the shit of art!

Okay, man, okay, calm down!

Christ!

I'm an artist, okay,

I want to make art.

If I happen

to make a million bucks,
get blown a hell of a lot,

maybe make the cover of Time magazine
along the way, then where's the harm?

You think Shakespeare didn't get blown?

Sure he did!

Put your money where
your mouth is, for god's sake!

There are plenty of
theatres in this country!

Yeah, well, that's what I'd love to
do… Oh, you know Harold Pinter, right?

Mr. Pinter and I have worked
together on a number of occasions, yes.

What's he like?
He is a great man.

He's also an accomplished sprinter.

He used to sprint for his county.

Pinter the sprinter.

Well done, Roy!

So do you think that you could,
you know, put in a good word for me?

I'd love to do some serious
theatre work in some of his stuff -

on Broadway or London even.

Do you think you could do that?

Alright!

If you're deadly serious,
I'll give you his number.

Come on! Don't fuck it up.

Pinter is actually a very
friendly man, Richard.

There's nothing he enjoys more than
chatting to people who appreciate his work.

Just call him up - he's an early
riser by the way - say “Harold” -

make sure you use his first
name, he cannot bear formality -

“Harold, let's work together!”
Yeah?

Oh yes!

The other thing he loves is

when people come up with theories
as to what his plays are about.

He gets a tremendous kick out of that.

Ooh, that's great

because I've got one of those from,
what's it called, The Dumb Waiter,

they're dead, right?

And they're in hell.
Oh, that's very good.

He won't have heard that one before.

That's so good, I got so much more I can
talk about with that play in particular...

Just a moment.

Robert? Yes.

Do you ever think you're too hard on him?

It is the grit in the oyster
that produces the pearl, Roy.

I am that grit.

He's giving a better
performance because of me.

Oh, so that's why you're doing it?

Making his life hell - to
improve his performance?

Of course.

What?

Nothing - it's just I'm
not sure that's what it is.

You're not going to believe this.

So they get the replacement
shark, they strap it to the rig,

they take it underwater, they bring it
back up, it's got a huge dent in its chin.

Fucking thing looks like Kirk Douglas.

So? So they got to

take it back to base and hammer
the goddamn dent out of it.

Ah shit. Now, Jim says we
might as well call it a day.

The fog's moved in anyway. Sorry guys.

Jesus!
I know. What a waste of time.

FUCKING CHRIST! Easy, Robert.

My fucking visa is running
out, for Christ's sake!

I've got what - two or three days
left before they tax the shit out of me!

I'll owe the fucking IRS for the
fucking Sting and Pelham 123!

I already spend every spare
day in Canada or bloody Bermuda!

Hey, come on, we'll go back to the hotel
bar, have ourselves a steak, have a drink.

Maybe have some more
of that clam chowder, huh?

Great! Be with you in a moment.

That was quite a performance
you gave earlier today, Richard,

throwing up between takes.

Oh god...

What's in the paper today, then, Roy?

You mean aside from Nixon?

War, disease, famine, bombs,
terrorists, riots, religious maniacs.

You know, the usual.

What a wonderful world...

Thar she blows.

So what are your plans today, Roy,

in the extremely likely event that
don't get that bloody shark operational?

Oh you know, I'll go over my
lines for the scar scene, not that

there are that many then if it warms up,
go out on deck, maybe catch a few rays.

Again?

Good God.
You were out there all day yesterday, man.

It's pathological!

No, you should try it.

I can think of better things
to do than gaze at my navel.

I really think there's a
spiritual element to it.

Sitting there, soaking in the heat,
listening to the ocean, the birds,

letting your mind breathe,
it's almost like meditating.

You're beginning to sound
like our resident beatnik.

Sunshine is healthy.

You know,

I wasn't going to say anything,
Roy, but has it occurred to you

that you're much browner now than
you were at the beginning of the shoot?

I mean, what are you going
to do if they need pick-ups?

They can do anything in
post-production these days.

Shame they can't fix my speech.

Come on, let's bid.

Three. Two.

I will also say two, you pussies.
Can't say two.

Why not?

It can't add up. I explained this!

Somebody has to suffer.

Why does somebody always have to suffer?

It's the law of the universe.

Alright, fuck it, three.

Hold on, hold on.

The first time I played the ace of clubs,

and then you trumped
it with the two of hearts.

Now you've just played a club.

So?
You have to follow suit, you arsehole!

Oh shit, I forgot, I'm sorry!

I would've won that, you know...

YES, YES, YES! I would've won...

Lighting!

Overhead.

Okay: Quiet please!

Rehearsing...

whenever you're ready, gentlemen.

“That was the USS Indianapolis, Mr. Hooper.

You've heard of that, right?

Well, I was there.

Let me tell you about the USS Indianapolis.

It was 1945, Chief.

The Pacific was filled
with Japanese submarines.

They were everywhere.

We'd just left the island of
Tinian, a lovely place, Chief.”

Oh for God's sake.

I can't say this!

It's duller than my tax return.

I mean, listen to this: “In
the middle of the second day,

some of us started to
go crazy from the thirst.

One fella cried out he saw a river,
another claimed he saw a waterfall,

some started to drink the ocean
and choked on it, and some left

our little group squares

and swam off alone lookin' for islands
and the sharks took them right away.

It was mainly the young fellas

that did that - the older
ones stayed where they was.”

For fuck's sake!

It goes on for FOUR pages like this!

All right, Robert, we'll
give it back to John.

No, no, no, don't give it back to Milius!

I'd like to take a crack at it.

Let me take it away
and I'll write it myself.

Okay, Robert, take a shot at it.

Thank you, Steven.

Moving on, everybody!

Okay, so here's another interesting fact.

Honey is the only food that doesn't spoil.

Honey from the tombs of Egyptian
pharaohs has been tasted by archeologists

and been found to be edible.

Sorry, Robert.

Am I boring you?

WOO-HOO!

Shhhh!
OH, YES SIRREE, BOB! Shhh!

Hungover, he's hungover...
Oh my God! It's a hit!

I'm in a hit! A fucking hit!

“Kravitz, played by a
continually grinning, scratching,

nervous-making-yet-vulnerable
Richard Dreyfuss, comes across effectively

and with force.”
Would you kindly fuck off, boy?

Look here in The Times!

In The Times! Look, there!

“Not a bad performance in the
film.” Not a bad performance!

Oh Christ on a bicycle!
This is it!

I'm big, I'm officially big.

Oh, I'm going to be feted
at Sardi's, and Elaine's.

Have you ever eaten at Elaine's, Roy?
No.

Oh, well, dinner's on me
next time you're in town.

The food stinks, but the clientele
are the crème de la crème.

Are you aware just how much
you sound like a cheap prick?

Oh, you're just hungover from
drinking all night with Thornton Wilder.

Oh God, it hurts me to even
hear you say his name, boy.

I wish you had a scintilla of his class.

Oh man, I wish I'd been there.

Tell me, what did you talk about?

Writing.

Life.

Real things. Oh Christ...

I need my stomach lining.

Would you help me out, Roy?

Thank you.

Six!

What's happening on set?

The usual.

Still trying to fix the shark?
Yup.

All right, let's have a game. Poker.

Oh crap, I left the cards
in my street clothes.

Alright... shove ha' penny?

Excuse me?

Shove ha' penny. It's a pub game.
Let me show you.

Out of the way, boy.

You take a coin, put it on
the table, hit it with your finger,

try to get it as far as you can
without touching the sides or the end.

The one who goes furthest is the winner.

And this is a real game?

This is a real game.

Best of five.

One hundred dollar entry.
A HUNDRED DOLLARS?!

Come on! Roy?

Oh, I see, this is a shakedown!

Oh, come on, Richard,
what else are we going to do?

I don't know, maybe work on my part.

Won't do any good. Very amusing.

You know, call me crazy,
but I take this movie seriously.

This is not a movie.

This is a trifle, an entertainment.

You know, art and entertainment
are not mutually exclusive.

He's got a point.

- I mean, take Casablanca.
- You like Casablanca, right, Robert?

“Kiss me, kiss me

as if it were the last time.”
Of course I like

Casablanca
, Roy - one of Bogies finest.

You think they knew they
were making a “great film”,

or were they just making a trifle?

I get what you're saying, lads,

but I still think this film is
destined for the dustbin of history.

Like those other big beasts of this decade:

The Towering Inferno,

The Exorcist,

Love Story,

Airport.

Do you think anyone's going
to remember any of those?

I like.

That's because you're young...

and an idiot.

You barely know how to wipe your own arse.

Hey I resent that.

I've been wiping my ass perfectly
adequately since I was twenty!

Look are we going to stand around
all day bickering like schoolgirls

or are we going to play shove ha'penny?

I vote for bickering like schoolgirls!

Come on, you degenerates!

I haven't got any ha'pennies,
so quarters'll have to do.

What the fuck is a ha'penny?

Half a penny.

It's perfectly simple -

Two ha'penny to a penny,
twelve pennies to a shilling,

two shillings to a florin,
ten florins to a pound.

On the nose! And a guinea?

Twenty-one shillings!

I'll drink to that.

You're making this up!
Of course we're not.

Right, a hundred dollars in the pot.

Come on! WHAT?

There you go.

Roy! Come on, in!

Now you - cough up, boy!

Why don't you shove
that ha'penny up your ass?!

The money!

I don't have a hundred on me!

Well, you were certainly
flashing the cash around

when you were flirting
with that waitress last night.

Okay, okay. Fine, fine.

Come on!

I'm counting, man!
Let's have it!

Okay, right, right!

Now we can play your
stupid fucking limey game.

Observe, gentlemen.

Not bad.

You next, Roy.

Why do I get the impression this is
how you misspent your youth, Robert?

Pretty good, Roy.

Pretty good for a first try.

Why thank you. Now you, boy.

Okay.

Hey! Can you back off a little?

Terribly sorry.

Goddamn it!

Nerves the better of you?
The fucking coin was bent!

Oh dear me boy, it's a bad
workman that blames his tools.

That's one to me.
Come on! Round two.

Yes! Ba ba boom!

This is the one.

Come on Roy! Here we go. Nice.

Oh would you look at that!

No, no, Roy, you weren't behind the line.

What line?

This line - forgot to mention it.
Hey, what the hell?

Come on. No cheating.

Man, this is not okay!

Oh crap. Sorry, Roy.

How many of these games do you know?

Oh, quite a few -
Jenkins, penny football, pitch-and-toss.

We must play pitch-and-toss.

Yeah, yeah, yeah.

Oh, yeah!

All right, all right. Don't
get too full of yourself.

That's one to you.
It sure is, buddy.

Okay, here we go.

Shit man.

Pride comes before a fall, eh laddie? Roy?

Okay.

Perhaps this is my chance to redeem myself.

Perhaps not.

Farewell and adieu to
you fair Spanish ladies.

Farewell and adieu to you ladies of Spain!

Whoa!

Remarkable.

You're a hustler.

He's a fucking hustler.

Two to me and one to you!

Yeah, yeah, okay - get on with it.

For we've received orders
for to sail back to Boston…

Oh, you hit the side!

BUGGER!
Oh, that's not so good, Robert!

What were you saying about
pride coming before the fall?

The table surface is irregular.

Now, who's blaming his tools?
Okay, here we go.

Come on.

Just can't get the hang of this game.

Step aside, gentlemen, make
way for Deadeye Dreyfuss..

Get on with it!

OH!

Very good Richard! You
played this game before?

Yeah sure.

We play a lot of shove
ha'penny in Beverly Hills.

That's two-all to us.

I wonder what I'm going
to buy with my 300 bucks?

I'm going to grind you into the dirt, boy.

Robert, has anyone ever told
you you're kind of competitive?

You don't know the half
of it. When I was seven

my father moved the whole family,
lock, stock, and barrel, to the Orkneys

off the coast of Scotland.

A bloody inhospitable place.

I was the only boy in the entire
school with an English accent.

The other children made my life hell.

I'm sure it would have been worse
if I'd been able to understand a word

they were saying…

I'm was obsessed with football.

Oh, you mean soccer?
No, football!

The first thing I wanted to do in the
Orkneys was to join the school team,

but they turned me down, the
bastards. Said I wasn't good enough.

But it was because I was
English, because of the accent.

So I formed my own team.

I went round the whole school
and I rounded up all the other misfits

they'd turned down -

the Irish lad, the fat boy, the
boy with the inch-thick spectacles.

I found ten of them, and I was the captain.

I trained those boys every day
out there on the icy playing fields

and then we challenged
the school team to a match -

And you beat them ten-zero!

…Four-nil, actually. Have
I told this story before?!

No, no, but we've all seen
The Magnificent Seven.

Are you doubting my word?

Oh, come on, Robert, please -
Now, Richard, no punching below the belt.

Everybody calm down,
four weeks is a long time to

be stuck together.

Four weeks is a long time

to be stuck on a slow boat to China
with Brigitte Bardot and Raquel Welch.

With you, it's a fucking eternity!

Hey, come on, come on, let's play.

I'll go first, seeing as
I'm bound to do badly.

Christ Roy, just retire.

Yeah okay, I will.

Come on boy. Two-all!

It's do or die.

Hands don't fail me now.

You'll never do it, you little punk.

FUCK! Oh no!

Damn it, man, I was
the worst shot of my life!

I've been a wild rover for many a
year and I've spent all my money on

whisky and beer and now I'm
returning with gold in great store.

I never will play the wild rover

no more and it's no, nay, never!

No, nay, never, no more
will I play the wild rover.

No never, no more!

Oh you lost! Oh, Jesus Christ!

THANK YOU GOD!

THANK YOU JEHOVAH!
He's gonna be unbearable.

WOOHOO!

ALRIGHT, ALRIGHT, YOU WIN! Goddamn it!

Boy, you are such a bad loser, man!

Let it go, Robert.

Woohoo!

Yeah, yeah, I see the money.

I see the money. Put it away.

Dumb luck, I guess!

For sure!

Why is there a bottle of whisky

strapped to the underside of the table?

In case it's needed.

May I have a drink?

Knock yourself out.

You know,

there's a question I've
been wanting to ask...

And what might that be?

Why do you drink so much?

To cope with smart-arses like you, Richard.

No. Seriously.

Roy?

Just a finger.

I'm English.

We have to drink to cope with the climate.

If the English didn't drink
we'd have died out years ago.

No no no no no, I don't buy that.

No, I know plenty

of Brits that don't hit the bottle.

Come on, I want the real reason.

What is it the “artistic
temperament” shtick?

Why does anybody drink?

Why do you smoke that's the
stuff that makes you giggle?

Why do you snort that powder
that makes your eyes water?

I've seen you coming out of the
boghouse red-eyed, sniffing like a dog.

Now, why would you do that?

I'm not gonna deny I like
getting high occasionally.

Yes, that's how it starts.

My God, I loved to drink when I was young.

It was such pleasure going to the pub

and getting smashed after a show.

People talk about there
being a cultural pressure

to drink in England, but as a young man

it felt natural,

wonderful,

it freed us up.

We talked about art, politics,

we were theatrical revolutionaries,

we were going to change the world!

Working with George Devine

at the Royal Court,

doing The Long and The Short

and The Tall with Peter O'Toole…

Heaven.

Oh, I think you did change the world.

It's just that the world
tends to revert to type.

Bless you, Roy.

Anyway…we were competitive.

We'd pride ourselves on still being able
to function after a tidal wave of booze!

Still standing, like a bull

peppered with banderillas.

I don't know at what point

drink became a part of me...

perhaps even before I was born.

My father was an alcoholic, you know.

A real alcoholic, not
just a barroom brawler

or a dilettante drinker like O'Toole.

A proper hollow-legged drunkard...

Trouble is, these days I find
it interferes with my writing.

I tried to quit last year,

but I found myself with a drink in my hand

as a reward for a week of not drinking.

Cheers!

Well, we do appear to be having

a real old heart-to-heart, don't we?

How'd you get that beautiful
broken nose, Mr. Scheider?

The 1946 Diamond Gloves tournament.

I was thirteen.

I lost by technical knockout
to Myron Greenberg.

You were a boxer?

Welterweight.

Oh, that's a real man's profession.

Not like this, poncing about
on a sound stage covered

in makeup like a prostitute!

Was your father a boxer?

No, no, he was an auto mechanic.

He ran a local gas station, you
know, typical blue-collar guy but

full of contradictions.

You know, he hates everybody.

Blacks, Jews, Catholics, Communists.

And yet he married a Catholic,
his friends with the Jewish people

who ran the local store
and his dentist was black.

But behind closed doors,

all this bile came pouring out.

He made derogatory remarks

right in front of us.

Did you fight with him? Oh yeah!

He beat the hell out of me.

My biggest crime was disagreeing with him.

Well, I realised as an adolescent

that what my father was
telling me wasn't true.

I took the beatings

to let him know he wasn't fooling me.

But my mother couldn't intervene

so I got the support that I needed from a

man who worked at the gas station.

One of my father's black
employees, as a matter of fact.

A guy named Friend Avery.

I bet you couldn't wait to get as far
as you could from the family business.

It's complicated, you know!

I was a sick kid, I had rheumatic fever.

I'd have these horrendous attacks.

My mother stayed home to take care of me.

She thought I was going to die.

I spent an awful lot of time in bed

thinking,

dreaming, you know, creating
all these fantasy worlds.

That's probably what led me into acting.

To this day, I cannot stand to be in a
room with an unmade bed or drawn drapes.

I have to throw them open to let
in the fresh air and the sunshine.

My dad wanted me to be a lawyer.

I know right?

Typical Jewish family.

You got to be a lawyer or a doctor.

You know, you may find
this difficult to believe,

but I was kind of an irritating kid.

No, no!

Yeah, yeah.

Short.

Scrawny. Overconfident.

I went to see The Great
White Hope on Broadway.

I didn't like the play,
didn't like the direction.

But in two scenes, Jane Alexander

and James Earl Jones

got to me so badly,

so deeply, that I was not only crying,

I was snotting gracelessly down my face!

I mean, I was beyond hope!

Oh, and when it ended,
I leaped into the air.

I was wearing my little bar
mitzvah suit on a trip to the city,

and I was shaken to my core.

So later, I was sitting with my mother

at the kitchen table, and I told her.

I want to be an actor.

And she said “Well, don't
just talk about it, do it!”

So I got up

and I auditioned for a play at the
West Side Jewish Community Center.

My dad was not happy.

Oh, but you should hear
him now on the subject of.

“My son, the famous actor.”
Oh, my dad's the same.

When I was nominated for
French Connection, he wouldn't

even come to the phone, but now,
you know, he gets a real kick out of it!

Hey, is your father still around, Robert?
No.

He killed himself when I was twelve.

Oh, shit.

Really?

Oh yes.

Christ, he's been gone such a long time.

He was a Victorian…
Funny to think that, isn't it?

Different era.

An extraordinary man… marvelous man.

He was a doctor in the Orkneys,

I told you about the
Orkneys, those terrible islands

where there's wind and sea and
you get hundred mile-an-hour gales.

He was the lighthouse
doctor, and he used to keep

a medical bag on each island,

and when the boat couldn't get
in because the sea was so rough,

he used to tie a rope around his waist,

and jump into the freezing
water and swim ashore, and

there would be his
medical bag, and he would

deliver whatever baby was to be delivered.
Wow.

I don't know whether being in the
First World War drove him to drink.

He would sit at the end of my bed and cry

when he thought I was asleep.

I've always wished

he could have lived a little longer,
because I felt I could have helped him.

Which all boys feel, I
think if their father dies,

whether it's in a war - it's
Vietnam, it's drugs, it's drink, or

whatever the hell it is,
you always feel, if you're

a proud son, that you
could have… said something.

For years,

I dreamt

I was walking with my
father in a beautiful place

and I was holding his
hand and I said to him:

“Everything'll be alright, Dad.”

Well, I never got to that…

He wanted me to be a doctor.

It was a school teacher that got me
into the theatre, a man named Wilkes.

He took us up to the West End.

I saw Gielgud's Hamlet.

Dad was gone by then.

You know, it's funny.

I've always thought I must
live at least as long as he did.

I don't know why.

Perhaps it's something all men feel.

How old was he when he died?

Fifty-two.

How old are you now?

Forty-seven.

Five more years to go...

if I make it.

Yeah?

Well, I can help with that.

What are you doing, boy?
Richard?

I'm saving you a life, pal?
Richard??

What are you fucking doing?
I should have done this weeks ago.

Richard? Richard!

RICHARD, NO!!!

Calm down! Easy.

Whoa whoa whoa!

KEEP STILL YOU SON OF A BITCH!
ROBERT!

I'll KILL YOU! I'll FUCKING KILL YOU!

FUCKING LITTLE BASTARD!
You're choking me!

That's enough!

NEVER TOUCH ANOTHER MAN'S
BOOZE! DID NO ONE EVER TELL YOU THAT?

NEVER TOUCH ANOTHER MAN'S BOOZE!

Let go of him, Robert, you're going
to hurt him! I'M GONNA KILL HIM!

Robert! We're shooting a
movie for Universal Pictures.

If you kill him, they will sue you.

They'll sue your wife. Sue your kids.

Hell, they might even sue me!
AH!

Lunatic.

You fucking lunatic!

You could've injured me badly!
Oh, shut up, you little crybaby.

I barely touched you.

My whole life flashed in front of my eyes.

Your theatrical gesture backfired.

Yeah, I got to say, that played
out a lot better in my head.

You owe me ten dollars for that bottle!

It was half-empty!

GIMME THE MONEY! FINE!

I'm gonna have to find someone
else to go down the liquor store.

Oh, don't tell me you don't have another
bottle stuffed around here somewhere.

Maybe I have and maybe I haven't.

You will never know.

Go fuck yourself!

- Hey and another thing.
- That play of yours -

The Man in the Glass Booth,
that's anti-Semetic, man!

I thought you called
yourself an intellectual boy!

You've the mentality of a tabloid hack!

And I don't like you calling me “boy”.
Is that right, BOY!?

Jesus, you two!

Please, will you fucking relax?

You're going to give me
a nervous breakdown.

Now, we got to finish this
movie and get the hell out of here!

Yeah,

yeah, I guess.

So, come on.

Please shake hands. What?!

Oh, come on.

I'm sorry I threw your liquor

overboard, Robert.

Very well, Richard, I accept your apology.

But if you ever lay a
finger on one of my bottles

again, I will put you in the ground.

You know what I like about you, Robert?

You're so easy going,

so carefree.

Just remind me to never
get you angry again.

That wasn't me getting angry, Richard.

When I'm angry, you'll know about it.

Hey!

Thank you for not
putting him in the ground.

My dear fellow, I am a professional.

Sounds incredible, but the weather's right,

there are no boats in shot,
and Bruce is actually working.

Roy, they're ready for us.
Really?

Come on! Quick!

Before any of those three things change.

Richard - a piece of advice
before they start shooting...

Yeah? Mind your mannerisms!

Okay...

when you're ready Robert.

Just a moment.

Alright.

Okay... Quiet on set
everybody... quiet please.

“Japanese submarine slammed
two torpedoes into our side, Chief...”

Sorry Robert - we're not rolling.
Oh shit.

Oh sorry. My mistake.

Okay, quiet on set!

Camera? Rolling!

Sound? Speed.

Mark it.

Scene 191, D.

Take one. And action!

“Japanese submarine slammed
two torpedoes into her side, Chief…

We was comin' back
from the island of Leyte…

Oh Christ, sorry,

sorry...

keep rolling!

Japanese submarine slammed two torpedoes

into our side, Chief… We was comin'
back from the island of Tinian to Leyte.

We'd just delivered the bomb.

The Hiroshima bomb.

Eleven hundred men went into the water.

Vessel went down in twelve minutes…”.

Christ, what comes next?

Didn't see the first shark
for about half an hour…

What…?! Speak up, for god's sake!

Didn't see the first shark
for about half an hour...

Shut up, boy! Are you playing Quint now?!

I know the bloody lines,
fool, I fuckin' wrote them.

Look at your furry little face!

He's like a Chihuahua!

You know,

there is one part you could
play in Shakespeare, boy!

The Fool!

You play Fool and I'll play Lear.

How about that?

“You think I'll weep…

No, I'll not weep,

I have full cause of
weeping, you motherfuckers!

But this heart shall break into a
hundred thousand flaws, or ere I'll weep…”.

You play Fool to my Lear, and I'll

play Falstaff to his Chihuahua!

Robert, I think we should leave it there!

Sorry Steven!

I slipped!

Alright, everybody, that's a wrap!

Oh, Roy, Roy, Roy my boy,

you're a good man, very loyal,

you can play Kent - or
Gloucester, if you don't mind

your eyes being gouged out...

Sorry everybody!

Sorry...

AAAHHHHHH!

“That's it.

Goodbye.

I'm not gonna waste my time arguing with
a man who's lining up to be a hot lunch…”

“That's it. Goodbye.”

No.

“That's it.

Goodbye…”

“That's it.

Goodbye.

I'm not gonna waste my time arguing with
a man who's lining up to be a hot lunch.”

Shit.

Piece of advice, boy.

Listen to me -

when I was on the London stage

playing Macbeth back in 1906,

Sir Robertson Fuckwad
said to me, he said to me.

“Shaw, you are the biggest
douchebag I have ever

had the misfortune to have met.”

And since that day, boy, I have striven,

with the sweat on my brow
and the strain of my sinew

to become the largest douchebag

in the history of the universe.

And I have done it, boy, I have done it!

Now where's my booze?

I've only had six bottles of rum today!

I need more!

Give me more!

Ah! Marvelous!

Don't you think so, Roy?

Well actually Robert,

here's an interesting
fact, interestingly enough.

The douchebag was a contraceptive device

first used by Martha Washington
in the eighteenth century.

Now isn't that interesting?

Don't you think that's interesting?

Am I interrupting?

No no no no no no no no no.

I'm just doing some lines.

Script lines.

You, want me to go over them with you?

There's no need.

We've already shot the scene.

Why are you doing them, then?

Oh, you know, just the usual.

Torturing myself.

Oh. Tired?

I didn't get any sleep last night.

Ohhh!

No. Oh.

I was watching TV, a
documentary on the war.

They kept showing the
pictures of the burning monk

and the naked girl with the napalm burns.

I can't get the images out of my mind.

Roy?

Remind me to never double date with you.

Have they fixed the shark, perchance?

Oh no, but that is not the current problem.

What is the current problem?

Oh the townsfolk.

The local authorities are now complaining
about the set that Joe Alves built,

you know - Quint Shack. What?

Yeah, it's thirty-eight feet high

and there's a twenty-four foot
limit on the local building code.

So they want it demolished, rebuilt
with proper concrete foundations,

electrical connections, waste
pipes, piles below sea level.

Oh, and a permit that is going to
take six months to come through.

But it's a fucking set.

It's going to be demolished in six days.

I know. Assholes.

I know.

God, those bastards deserve all
the bad luck that's coming their way.

May their limbs wither

and their eyeballs burst in their
skulls - as my father used to say.

Jesus, he sounds like a real peach.
Oh, yeah, yeah.

He walked out on the family on
the night of my twenty-first birthday.

Oh, man. I'm sorry to hear that.

It's fine.

It's not exactly as if we ever played catch

together.

Roy? What?

Am I any good?

As an actor?

What, are you fishing for compliments?

Of course I think you're good, Richard.
Well, I don't.

I think maybe Robert's right, I'm a fake.

A phoney.

You know, I was on set yesterday,
and I didn't know who I was.

I didn't feel like Hooper.

I didn't feel like me.

I just felt completely disembodied.

Everybody feels like that sometimes.
They do?

Do you ever feel like that?

Yeah, sure I do.

Yeah? Well, everyone was looking
at me yesterday like they knew!

Like they knew I was a fake.

Steven, Gottlieb, Lorraine, James,

Michael, everyone.

Has anyone said anything to you about me?

What are you talking about?

Has Steven said something
about me? Or Gottlieb?

Gottlieb hasn't said anything.
So Steven said something about me?

Neither of them have said anything!

Richard, I hesitate to say
this, but don't you think you're

being a little paranoid?
Paranoid?!

So that's what they're saying about me.

- I'm paranoid?!

Oh shit - oh shit - Richard?

Richard, are you okay?

I'm fine.

Just... just give me a minute, please.

Okay Richard, you are now hyperventilating.

That means you're exhaling
more than you're inhaling.

You are breathing out carbon dioxide
quicker than you're breathing in oxygen.

Yeah, thanks for that titbit
Roy... it's very interesting.

Jesus, how much of that snow
have you had this morning?

No no no no no no no I
haven't had any yet today!

Okay, that's good, you know,
you gotta stop doing that to yourself.

It's, it's, it's unhealthy.

You know, it's irresponsible.

You know, we're here,
we're shooting a movie,

there's a lot of people counting on you!
Roy!

WHAT THE FUCK!
Oh Jesus, calm down! No!

Hang on! Oh God!

Wait wait wait wait.

Okay, okay, okay.

Concentrate on the flame.

Gaaaagh!

Oh, jeez, I'm sorry, I'm sorry!

It's right here, Richard.

Just concentrate on the flame!
Which part?

The blue part or the
yellow part? WHICH PART?

All of it Richard!

Just breathe in, breathe out.

Concentrate on the entire flame.

All I can

see is the burning monk
you were talking about!

All right, stop it, Richard!

Everything's okay.

You're wonderful actor.

You're exactly where
you're meant to be, Richard.

You're wonderful.

You are wonderful.

What the holy fuck are you two doing?

Take it easy Robert,
Richard's having a panic attack.

Oh, I see.

I thought I'd stumble into
Woodstock for a moment!

I really think he needs some space, Robert.

Oh for God's sake, what's
the matter with you, Petunia?!

JUST FUCK OFF ROBERT WOULD YOU?!

JUST FUUUUCK OFFFFF!

“When, in disgrace

with fortune and men's eyes,

I all alone beweep my outcast state,

and trouble deaf

heaven with my bootless cries,

and look upon myself

and curse my fate,

wishing me like to one more rich in hope,

featured like him, like him

with friends possessed,

desiring this man's art

and that man's scope,

with what I most enjoy contented least;

Yet in these thoughts

myself almost despising,

haply I think on thee,

and then my state,

(Like to the lark at break of
day arising from sullen earth)

Sings hymns at heaven's gate;

for thy sweet love remembered

such wealth brings

that then I scorn to change my state

with kings.”

I wrote that when I was five.

Where have you been?

Highland Links.

Shot eighty-eight.

Is that good or bad?

I got two birdies on the front
nine, but I fucked up coming back.

Lost two balls.

Putting was horrendous.

Every time, just before
I'm about to hit my first shot,

I say to myself “today's
the day!” but it never is.

Why do you put yourself through it?
I don't know.

It's a modern

incarnation of an ancient fertility rite.

It was invented by sex

starved Scottish shepherds.

The ball is the sperm
and the hole is the egg.

You replicate the difficult and
dangerous journey to conception,

trying to get there first.

Huh. Never thought of golf that way.

Does it apply to other sports?

Probably.

In football, the goal is the
egg and the ball is the sperm.

In basketball, the hoop is the egg.

I don't think that it works in baseball.

No, because there you've got one guy

trying to get his sperm past another guy

who's trying to get his sperm out the park.

You're right...

baseball is a fruitless pursuit.

Well,

whatever fertility rite
you're performing it's

certainly working.

I need some air.

You are full of surprises.

Snifter? Oh no, thank you.

If I mix Jamaican rum with Irish
whisky, I wonder what it would make?

Trouble.

God he makes me feel so old.

You're hardly old, Robert.

I know but when I was his age,

the world was my oyster,

so full of possibility.

But it was an illusion.

A mirage of unknown futures

that all disappear once you make a choice.

The greatest thing about being young

is the falsehood that the blank canvas

will lead you to limitless adventure.

You know what,

I think I will have that drink now.

Man takes a drink.

Drink takes a drink.

Drink takes the man.

Mr. Scheider,

there are still boats in the shot.

Go ahead and take your lunch.

Here we go.

Let's get it up to the sun.

The sun is out,

the skies are blue.

Peace.

Mr. Scheider, the sailboat's

now out of shot and
the background is clear.

Lunch is cancelled.

We gotta shoot. Sending a boat over.

Please respond.

Waste of goddamn time.

Mr. Scheider, can you pick up, please?
Well, what do you...

Do you copy?

Yeah I copy you asshole!
Mr. Scheider?

Can you come in?

We are sending a boat, please be ready,

we've got to shoot!

Mr. Scheider, are you receiving?

Ready when you are!

Still not in there...

Where the bloody hell are you?

Had enough of the shit.

Come to me.

Oh, Christ.

Where the bloody hell are you?

What the hell are you doing?

Oh Christ, it's you!

Last month, I hid a
bottle of Lagavulin in here

so cunningly, with
such Machiavellian guile,

that I've subsequently been
completely unable to find it.

I mean, it's the last
day for Christ's sake.

You need it? Yes, I need it.

Okay, well, how hard can it be?

Like Roy said, it's not that big a boat.

That is a misquotation, my friend.

Oh Christ, I've been over every
square inch of this bloody place.

Well, I can help!

If you think I'm letting you anywhere
near my booze after that stunt you pulled!

No, I don't have a death wish.

Jeez no - I'm really good at finding stuff.

Oh, this, this one time we were in Italy.

What are you doing in Italy?

Oh, we traveled around
Europe a lot when I was a kid.

You go to Ireland?

Ireland? Nope. Pity.

It's a wonderful country.

Of course,

the people are all completely mad, but
that's what's so wonderful about them.

You know I once ordered
spaghetti in a Cork restaurant,

and when it arrived, it was
still in the shape of the can.

Wait.

They eat canned spaghetti?

They eat pig's trotters
and tripe and kidneys.

Jesus.

I live in County Mayo, right
by the shores of Loch Mask.

The water is clear enough to drink.

I can row across the
lake to Paddy Walsh's pub

and have my choice of
either Guinness or Smithwick's.

That is if Paddy isn't
out fishing for brown trout.

No, I love the Irish.

They're God's own people.

Are you sure this bottle's in here?

No! Oh Christ!

Now you've got me questioning myself.

Did I drink the Lagavulin?

You know, they could do a
marvelous games how on television -

get in six drinkers, get them
each to hide a bottle of scotch,

then drink a bottle of scotch,
then they have to find the first one!

Sounds great.

Real family fun.

Oh, BINGO!

Saints be praised!

You're like a truffle pig, boy!!

Come on.
Oh, no, no, I better not.

You wouldn't be refusing to
drink with me, would you, Richard?

Okay, okay. Fine.

Robert. Fine.

Christ.

Oh! That's a twelve-year-old scotch.

How'd you get it out here?

Oh, I know someone who could get
hold of moonshine in Saudi Arabia.

Who? Ned Lynch.

He sounds like a pirate.

Probably comes from
a long line of smugglers.

It keeps me out of trouble, too.

I fired him several times,
but he's never accepted it.

You know, when we first
started filming this fucking movie

several thousand years
ago, I thought to myself,

I'm going to figure out exactly
where you end and Quint begins.

Still not sure, eh?

And that's the way you like it!

Where's Roy by the way?

He's in the can.

I think he's regretting the
lobster bisque last night.

That shellfish will get you in the end.

Quite literally.

Good God,

it's the last day and their still
hammering on that bloody thing.

Do you ever feel stupid?
Do I ever feel stupid?

Yeah, yeah, doing this job.

I mean, here we are, the
shark is broken - again!

It's fucked, and Steven's asking

for all these reaction shots to
a thing that doesn't even exist!

I mean, it just feels so goddamn stupid!

You know, like when you're a little kid and
you run around the neighbourhood like Superman,

I don't know, it just,
it feels so childish.

At times I found myself utterly
depressed at how ridiculous it all is.

How seriously we all take ourselves;

fame, adulation,

money, agents, lawyers,
producers, merchandising,

it's all a crock of bullshit.

So you do feel stupid?

Of course I bloody do! All actors do.

You know, almost more than anything
else, I wish I'd been good enough

to be a first class rugby player.

No matter what you do in the
arts people can say they don't like it.

They can say “Tolstoy
is a second-rate novelist!”

But when you score a try,
they can't take it away from you.

So do you think being an actor
undermines your masculinity?

Oh, fucking hell.

I don't know, Richard. I'm not a therapist.

Have another drink.

Because Richard
Benjamin just said that acting

was not a fit profession for a mature man.

Hoffman calls it womanish.

Like there's something shameful about it.

For God's sake, Richard,
stop listening to everybody else!

Be fearless!

Follow your own goddamn star!

“The wind passes over us,

and when we are gone,

the earth shall know us no more.”

Are you okay?

Fuck you Richard!

Oh dear!

Oh God. Oh!

How you feeling, Roy?

Like a discarded sausage skin.

A swig of this should help.

I'd rather have a glass of water.

Remember what W.C.
Fields said about water, Roy...

You should avoid it.

Fish fuck in it.

How appropriate.

Wait, no, don't sit, don't sit.

Put this back for you.

There you go.

Go on.

Okay.

Good man.

Actually, I think that's a bit better.

Clean!

Roy?

Big wrap party tonight.

No, Steven doesn't go for all
that sentimental, drunken crap.

The hugging, the puking. Jesus.

And I think he suspects the
crew are planning on throwing him

in the drink after the final shot.

No, my guess is he'll be straight out of
Dodge before they get their hands on him.

Clever fellow.

I wonder if

this will be the one that breaks me,

makes me a big shot.

You know, I thought it would be Duddy.

Kravitz, but who knows,
maybe it'll be this one.

Don't fucking count your chickens!
This thing hasn't been edited yet.

You may well end up
on the cutting room floor.

Yeah right.

Like they're going to cut out the star!

“Star”?

With the caveat that you're both great,

and I do mean really
great, supporting players

but come on, let's be honest -

Two things! First, technically speaking,

Brody is the hero of this film…and
second, I dunno, maybe there isn't a star.

Like I said before, maybe
this is a new kind of movie.

Who gets top billing?

Where the hell did this come from?

My agent John Gaines.

It's all been approved.

Oh my God, he fucked us!

Your name's higher and in the middle.

Yeah, but I'm lower down on the left
where people look next - or maybe first?

No no!

Well I'm lower down
and on the fucking right.

Which is only good in countries
where they read from right to left.

I'm star in the Middle East!

My agent has screwed me again!

Fucking Zanuck and Brown!

So, what are you guys doing after we wrap?

Got anything lined up?

Oh, I'm reading the Goldman project.

- The Marathon Man.
- Oh the Nazi thing?

They got Hoffman for the lead.

They want me to play a Fed.

Why do I always get offered cops?

It's your face, Roy.

You've a look of incorruptibility.

Why thank you, Robert.

So what's next for you two?

For myself, I shall be getting the
hell out of this benighted country

and returning to Tourmakeady with my brood

to concentrate on my writing.

Back to the wet green grass
and the smell of the peat fire.

How about you, Richard?

Oh, well, I tell you, I'm going to
really double down on my career.

Cut out the partying.

No, it's time to get serious.

Do some theatre.

Maybe Shakespeare.

And Steven was telling me this
new idea for a movie he's got.

Oh yeah? Yeah, about UFOs.
About what?

You know, flying saucers.

Oh, you mean like a War
of the Worlds - type thing?

No, Steven sees the
aliens as the good guys.

Like they're trying to help mankind,
you know, expand our consciousness.

Well that sounds like
it's going to be good!

And Steven wants to cast you?

Well, I think they want Nicholson,
but he's impossible to work with.

No, I'll wear him down.

UFOs! Aliens! Jesus!

Whatever next?

Dinosaurs?

Can this business get any more puerile?

Do you think they'll make a sequel?

To what?

To this.

Christ, I hope not.

Not much more to say is there?

One thing's for certain.

If they do make a
sequel, I will not be in it.

Hey, never say never Roy.

Oh, come on, what on earth could
happen with Brody in a sequel?

What?

Another shark comes to town?

That's crazy!

Mark my words boys, one
day there will only be sequels.

Sequels and remakes,

and sequels to remakes

and remakes of sequels.

Anyway, good luck to them
bringing Quint back from the dead.

What?

You think being bitten in
half is gonna stop them?

They wouldn't even break a sweat!

They'd just have Quint's
never-before-mentioned twin

brother show up.
I'd sooner kill myself.

What do you think it's about?

What?

This movie.

This fucking movie.

I mean, it's got to be
about something, right?

Everything's about something.

I think it's about the subconscious.

Say again?

Well, sharks are these
ancient, primal creatures, right?

So they represent the
primal fear in all of us.

All the terrors and
desires, we keep hidden.

All the Freudian stuff my
therapists always going on about.

That's what the shark is.

What you don't agree?

Interesting theory!

Okay, so what do you think it's about?

Well, I think it's about responsibility.

When the government puts
profit before people's lives,

and you can't get rid of the bastards,
you got to take care of the mess yourself,

even if it terrifies you, for
the good of the community.

Woah.

Deep.

What about you, Robert?

What do you think it's about?

It's about a shark!

Yeah, I know that, but
what's it really about?

It's really about a shark!

Don't read any more into it.

It's a thriller, a machine
for making money.

Do you really think people are going
to be talking about this in fifty years?

What the hell?

Jesus, we've certainly

run the gamut in this fucking boat
over the what, last… nine weeks?

Poker, gin rummy, hearts,
whist, slapjack, chicken foot,

arm wrestling, pitch-and-toss -
Shove ha'penny?

Fucking shove ha'penny!

And tremendous fun it's been too.

Tremendous fun like Alcatraz.

I called him by the way... Harold Pinter,

I woke him up…

He said he'd rather die.

Gentlemen, it delights me to
be the bearer of good news.

They are ready for our final shot.

HOLY SHIT!

I feel like a prisoner on remand
whose sentence has just been quashed!

No more clam chowder.

No more Martha's Vineyard!

And no sitting on this goddamn boat!

You know, I gotta say, fellas,

I feel kind of sad.

Gentlemen,

it's been a pleasure.

Yeah,

it's been a complete fucking nightmare!

You know, if it wasn't for the
vanity and the mannerisms,

you'd be a very good actor.

Well, you know, if it wasn't for
the dullness and artistic pretension,

you'd be a very good writer.

Hell, I may even read one of your books.

Have to learn to read first, boy!

HAHAHA!

Bite me!

Thank you for keeping us alive, Roy.

I just want to say it's been
an honor working with you.

Thank you.

You know, “I'm no good at being noble,

but it doesn't take much to see that
the problems of three little people don't

amount to a hill of
beans in this crazy world.”

“Here's looking at you, kid.”

Roy, you know

that mass-extinction
you were talking about?

I suspect one is coming
for actors like you and me.

I fear the future belongs to a generation

of self-absorbed neurotics.

I think we'll be in good hands, Robert.

Okay, quiet please!

Camera? Rolling.

Sound. Speed.

Mark it. Scene 191, D.

Take two.

Action!

“Japanese submarine slammed
two torpedoes into our side, Chief.

We was comin' back…from
the island of Tinian to Leyte,

we'd just delivered the bomb.

The Hiroshima bomb.

Eleven hundred men went into the water.

Vessel went down in twelve minutes.

Didn't see the first shark
for about a half an hour.

Tiger. Thirteen footer.

You know how you know that
when you're in the water, Chief?

You tell by lookin' from
the dorsal to the tail.

What we didn't know,

was our bomb mission had been so secret,

no distress signal had been sent. Ha!

They didn't even list
us overdue for a week.

Very first light, Chief, sharks come

cruisin', so we formed
ourselves into tight groups.

Oh it was kinda like old squares

in a battle, like you see in a
calendar, like the Battle of Waterloo,

and the idea was shark
comes to the nearest man,

that man he start poundin'
and hollerin' and screamin' and

sometimes that shark he go away…

Sometimes he wouldn't go away.

Sometimes that shark
he looks right into you.

Right into your eyes.

You know the thing
about a shark is he's got…

lifeless eyes, black
eyes, like a doll's eyes.

When he comes at ya, he doesn't
seem to be livin'… until he bites ya,

and those black eyes
roll over white and then…

Then you hear that terrible
high-pitched screamin',

the ocean turns red, and despite
all the poundin' and the hollerin'

they all come in and
they… rip you to pieces.

You know by the end of that
first dawn, lost a hundred men.

I don't know how many
sharks, maybe a thousand.

I don't know how many men,
they averaged six an hour.

On Thursday mornin', Chief, I
bumped into a friend of mine,

Herbie Robinson from Cleveland.

Baseball player. Boson's mate.

I thought he was asleep.

I reached over to wake him up.

He bobbed up and down in the
water, he was like a kinda top.

Upended.

Well,

he'd been bitten in half below the waist.

Noon the fifth day, Mr. Hooper,
a Lockheed Ventura saw us.

He swung in low and he saw us,
young pilot, a lot younger than Mr. Hooper

anyway he saw us and come in low.

And three hours later a big fat.

PBY comes down and start to pick us up.

You know that was the
time I was most frightened?

Waitin' for my turn.

I'll never put on a life jacket again.

So, eleven hundred men

went in the water, three hundred
and sixteen men come out,

the sharks took the
rest, June the 29th, 1945…

Anyway… we delivered the bomb.

Cut!