Philip Seymour Hoffman - Almost Famous Script Scenes 20-25 lyrics

20 EXT. DOWNTOWN SAN DIEGO RADIO STATION -- DAY 20 The song we've been listening to is ripped off the turntable by a highly-active man in a red promotional t-shirt proclaiming the greatness of The Guess Who. He is a ferocious, lumbering, music- driven presence, and he fills this small radio studio to the very brim. This is LESTER BANGS, 25, the rarely-seen God of a then new art-form -- Rock Journalism. A Disc-jockey with long- long hair watches helplessly. William views all this through a gla** window. He stands on the corner of a downtown side street, halfway up a steep incline. He is the only person on the streets this early Saturday morning. Reveal that he is watching a live radio show, audible to us through the small p.a. speaker overhead. LESTER BANGS Here's a theory for you to disregard completely. Music, you know, true music, not just rock 'n' roll, it chooses you. It lives in your car, or alone, listening to your headphones -- you know, with the vast, scenic bridges and angelic choirs I your brain. It is a place apart from the vast, benign lap of America. DISC-JOCKEY Quite an honor to have the World's Greatest Rock Critic... and editor of Creem Magazine, back Home in San Diego for a few days -- Lester Bangs. LESTER BANGS What is this hippie station?! Where's Iggy Pop? Don't you have a copy of Raw Power?! DISC-JOCKEY Lester, isn't it a little early for this? Bangs searches for the album -- vinyl flying everywhere now, with no regard for album jackets. BANGS Found it!! 21 EXT. RADIO STATION -- DAY 21 William watches intently. Bangs thuds the needle onto a copy of Raw Power. We're rewarded with a blast of Iggy and the Stooges' "Search and Destroy." A closer shot on William now watching the whirlwind of anarchy inside. Lester does an Iggy Pop impression, acting out a story for the d.j. that we cannot hear, never noticing the kid soaking in everything from the other side of this double-gla** window. 22 EXT. RADIO STATION -- DAY -- LATER 22 Bangs walks with William on this sharply inclined San Diego street. It's early, the streets are silent. Bangs is about fifteen beer pounds overweight. His jeans are loose, his paleness and messy moustache an emblem of the long days and nights spent writing. In there somewhere is a good-looking guy. His hands are thrust deeply into his pockets, and he takes big sweeping steps. BANGS So you're the one who's been sending me those articles from your school newspaper - WILLIAM I've been doing some stuff for a local underground paper, too. BANGS What are you like the star of your school? WILLIAM They hate me. BANGS You'll meet them all again on their long journey to the middle. The kid nods, they walk. BANGS (cont'd) Well, your writing is damn good. It's just a shame you missed out on rock and roll. WILLIAM I did? BANGS Oh yeah. It's over. WILLIAM Over? BANGS Over. You got here just in time for the d**h rattle, the last gasp, the last grope. WILLIAM Well. At least I'm here for that. Bangs looks at the much smaller kid, shaking his head. It's too late for newcomers. But if the kid's age is an issue, he doesn't mention it. Like a machine-gun: BANGS What do you type on? WILLIAM Smith-Corona Galaxis Deluxe. BANGS You like the new Lou Reed? WILLIAM (automatic) The early stuff. The new stuff, he's trying to be Bowie, he should be himself. I'm not a big Lou man. BANGS Yeah, but if Bowie's doing Lou, and Lou's Doing Bowie, Lou's still doing Lou. WILLIAM (standing his ground) If you like Lou. BANGS Take d**? WILLIAM No. BANGS Smart kid. I used to do speed and sometimes Nyquil and stay up all night writing and writing, like 25 pages of dribble about, you know, the Guess Who, or Coltrane, just to write, you know, with the music blasting... WILLIAM Me too. The writing part... For a moment, the serious demeanor dissolves and the oddest thing happens. Bangs laughs. It's an odd and charming laugh, the kind a tough guy keeps well-hidden. It surprised the kid, who smiles back. Bangs stops at the corner, and offers a pleasant but very final nod of the head. BANGS Well, alright. It's been nice to meet you. I'll see you around. Keep sending me your stuff. WILLIAM Okay. See you. BANGS I can't stand here all day talking to my many fans. WIDE SHOT - SOLITUDE But neither have anywhere to go on this early downtown morning. They stand for a beat, hands in pockets, on this deserted street. They are alone together, there's nobody else in sight. 23 INT. DINER -- DAY 23 William listens intently as Lester eat a sandwich. His face is an open book filling with words. BANGS -- so anyway, you're from San Diego and that's good. Because once you go to L.A., you're gonna have friends like crazy but they'll be fake friends, they're gonna try to corrupt you. The publicists! The bands! You got an honest face, they're gonna tell you everything. But you CANNOT make friends with the rock stars. The kid takes out a green collegiate notebook and gestures -- can I make a note? Bangs nods. BANGS (cont'd) Cannot make friends with the rock stars. (savage bite) That's what's important. If you're a rock journalist, a true journalist -- first you will never get paid much. But you will get free records from the record company. The kid's eyes widen. Bangs, in direct conflict with his brutal writing style, is looking suspiciously like a compa**ionate softie. BANGS (cont'd) And they'll buy you drinks, you'll meet girls... they'll try to fly you places for free.... offer you d**... I know. It sounds great. But they are not your friends. These are people who want you to write sanctimonious stories about the genius of the rock stars and they will ruin rock and roll and strangle everything we love about it. Privately, William thrills. We. Our. It all sounds great to him. He listens to the grouping of the words, every one of them. He madly scribbles. BANGS (cont'd) They are trying to buy respectability for a form that is gloriously and righteously - The kid leans forward as Lester finds the right word. BANGS (cont'd) - dumb! And you're smart enough to know that. And the day it ceases to be dumb is the day it ceases to be real. Right? And then it will just Become an Industry of Cool. WILLIAM ... Industry... of... cool... BANGS And that's what they want! And it's happening right now. I'm telling you, you're coming along at a very dangerous time for rock and roll. The war is over. They won. 99% of what pa**es for rock now... SILENCE is much more compelling. It's over. I think you should turn around and go back and be... a lawyer or something... but I can see from your face that you won't. I can pay you thirty-five bucks. Gimme a thousand words on Black Sabbath. WILLIAM (attempting cool) An a**ignment. LESTER Yeah. And you should build your reputation on being honest... and unmerciful. WILLIAM (writing in notebook) Honest... unmerciful... BANGS And if you get into a jam -- call me. I stay up late. Bangs reaches across the table, and William watches as he scribbles his number on the back of the kid's green collegiate notebook. The notebook has just become valuable. They sit together, listening to the beautiful and compelling silence. 24 INT. FAMILY CAR -- NIGHT 24 Mom drives William to the San Diego Sports Arena. She looks out the window at the adrenalized concert-goers. She feels protective not just of her son, but an entire generation. William goes over his questions for Black Sabbath. ELAINE Look at this. An entire generation of Cinderellas and there's no slipper coming. William looks out the window at the sign: TONIGHT - SOLD OUT - BLACK SABBATH with special guest Stillwater. WILLIAM You can drop me off here. ELAINE Black. Sabbath. Just remember - you wanted to be Atticus Finch in To k** a Mockingbird. The kid doesn't answer. He silently goes over his questions. ELAINE (cont'd) As long as I know this is just a hobby, I'll go along with it. WILLIAM All I have to do is listen. That's what Lester Bangs said. ELAINE (dryly) I'll be waiting right here at eleven 'o clock sharp. If you get lost, use the family whistle. He unhooks his seatbelt, stuffs his questions into an orange canvas shoulder-bag and exits. Elaine watches her son disappearing into the stony rock-concert crowd. It's a windy night. Everything about this image troubles her. She fights with herself, and then uses the family whistle immediately. He turns. ELAINE (cont'd) (sweetly, too loud) Don't take d**!! Fifteen concert-goers turn around instinctively, at the sound of a Mother, and then identify William as the object of her concern. All around him, we hear: HAPPY CONCERT GOERS Don't take d**!! He winces, nods and moves forward. Music echoes from the open windows of many other cars. 25 EXT. SAN DIEGO SPORTS ARENA BACKSTAGE RAMP -- NIGHT 25 The kid tromps down the steep incline leading to a small steel backstage arena door. He rings the buzzer. The door wheezes open to reveal the keeper of the San Diego Sports Arena's backstage list. Famous to all those who attempt to enter, this is SCOTTY. He is a wiry, humorless man for whom powerlessness is the theme of his life -- except for those few hours he controls the list. Scotty is only forty but everything about him screams that he's an angry sixty. WILLIAM Hi. I'm William Miller and I'm here from Creem Magazine to interview the band Black Sabbath. Scotty, immediately suspicious, moves to a nearby podium and snaps through three clipboard pages. He moves back to the door and grabs the handle. SCOTTY Not on the list. He shuts the door with finality. The kid stands silently for a moment. He looks over his shoulder, at two chattering Groupies watching his dilemma from the top of the ramp. They look at him sympathetically, but he turns away. William rings the buzzer again, withdrawing a copy of Creem from his bag. The door opens. WILLIAM Sir, I'm a journalist, and here's a copy of the magazine. The magazine hangs in mid-air. SCOTTY You're not on the list. Go to the top of the ramp with the girls! Slam. William stands there for a moment. Unsure of what to do next, he looks back to the top of the ramp. Rejected by him just moments earlier, the groupies now feign disinterest. Bracing himself, William rings again. The door opens slowly this time. Scotty stands peering at him. WILLIAM (in a rush) What-happens-after-I-go-to-the-top-of- the-ramp with-the-gi - Slam. Lock.