Killer's Kiss Script - Dialogue Transcript

Voila! Finally, the Killer's Kiss script is here for all you quotes spouting fans of the Stanley Kubrick movie.  This script is a transcript that was painstakingly transcribed using the screenplay and/or viewings of Killer's Kiss. I know, I know, I still need to get the cast names in there and I'll be eternally tweaking it, so if you have any corrections, feel free to drop me a line. You won't hurt my feelings. Honest.

Swing on back to Drew's Script-O-Rama afterwards for more free movie scripts!

Killer's Kiss Script


 

                   

It's crazy how you can get yourself

in a mess sometimes



 

                   

and not even be able

to think about it with any sense,



 

                   

and yet not be able to think

about anything else.



 

                   

You get so you're no good

for anything or anybody.



 

                   

Maybe it begins

by taking life too serious.



 

                   

Anyway, I think

that's the way it began for me...



 

                   

... just before my fight

with Rodriguez three days ago.



 

                   

- Hello?

- Hello, Davey.



 

                   

- You're a half-hour late.

- How are you?



  

                   

It's getting late, and I don't like

waiting around like this.



  

                   

You better hop a cab.



  

                   

I had some trouble with the car,

and it's still tied up at the shop.



  

                   

- I'll meet you over at the arena.

- I'll see you there.



  

                   

Right. Bye.



  

                   

- You're doing all right for yourself.

- What do you mean?



  

                   

He just lives in the building.



  

                   

He used to be a pretty good fighter.



  

                   

- A fighter?

- Sure.



  

                   

He's fighting tonight,

as a matter of fact.



  

                   

We can watch him on the TV.



  

                   

Dear Davey,



  

                   

We still haven't heard from you

yet this month,



  

                   

and we wondered whether everything

was still all right with you.



  

                   

Out here,

everything's about the same.



  

                   

I still get into Seattle every week,

and the ranch is prospering nicely.



  

                   

Last week, I finally bought

Mr. Henderson's chestnut Arabian stallion.



  

                   

Your Aunt Grace's arthritis

is much better.



  

                   

She can even take short rides

on Jumper now and then.



  

                   

Well, I guess that's all now,

except that we miss you a lot, Davey.



  

                   

Write soon.

Love, Uncle George and Aunt Grace.



  

                   

The main bout brings together

two very game boys.



  

                   

The youngster, undefeated

in    professional encounters...



  

                   

Kid Rodriguez,

and the veteran Davey Gordon,



  

                   

who has emerged victorious

in    fights,



  

                   

while losing nine

and drawing two.



  

                   

Gordon's long career...

he is now   ...



  

                   

has been one long promise

without fulfillment, at least thus far.



  

                   

As hard a puncher as they come,

a clever boxer,



  

                   

he's been plagued by a weak chin



  

                   

and the unlucky knack

of being at his worst for the big one.



  

                   

And tonight is a big one indeed,



  

                   

with a title bout in the offing

for the winner.



  

                   

And now, let's take time out

for a friendly word from our sponsor.



  

                   

How many times have you

come home in the evening



  

                   

and wanted to feel the...



  

                   

One, two, three, four,



  

                   

five, six, seven, eight.



  

                   

One, two...



  

                   

...four, five, six...



  

                   

...eight...



  

                   

Go on home, Gordon!

You're a bum!



  

                   

Go on home, Gordon!



  

                   

Why don't you give up?

You're all through!



  

                   

Tonight we may very well have seen

ring history in the making



  

                   

in the form of a sensational

young welterweight Rodriguez



  

                   

and his impressive K.O. over

the experienced campaigner Gordon.



  

                   

But for Gordon, tonight must come

as a bitter pill indeed.



  

                   

This was the fight for him

to prove his glass chin



  

                   

had been remade into sterner stuff.



  

                   

But unfortunately for him,

tonight again it was as fragile as ever.



  

                   

Hello?



  

                   

Mr. Davey Gordon, please.

Seattle is calling.



  

                   

That's me.



  

                   

Just a moment.

Your party's on the line.



  

                   

- Hi, Davey. This is Uncle George.

- Hey, Uncle George.



  

                   

- How are you?

- Fine. How are you?



  

                   

We're all fine, too.



  

                   

Say, how would you like

to take a vacation out here,



  

                   

come spend a little time with us?



  

                   

Country's mighty nice

this time of the year.



  

                   

It's really nice of you

to ask me out, but...



  

                   

- We saw the fight on TV tonight.

- So?



  

                   

- Nothing. We just saw it.

- It must have looked great.



  

                   

- These things happen sometimes.

- I don't know what happened.



  

                   

- I had him going.

- Forget it, forget it.



  

                   

You need a vacation,

and we haven't seen you for two years.



  

                   

Why don't you make a reservation

and come on out?



  

                   

Look, I don't know.



  

                   

Say, look,

I feel a little dopey right now, George,



  

                   

but let me think about it.



  

                   

I'll... I'll call you.



  

                   

- Wait. You're not hurt, are you?

- No, no. I'm just tired, that's all.



  

                   

Good. Then you'll let us know

just as soon as you can.



  

                   

Sure.



  

                   

- Your aunt Grace sends her love.

- Tell her the same from here.



  

                   

Okay. As it stands now,

you'll let us know when to expect you.



  

                   

I certainly will, and thanks for calling.

It was nice hearing from you.



  

                   

- Take care of yourself.

- And you, too.



  

                   

- Good night.

- Good night, Davey boy.



  

                   

Go on home, Gordon!

You're a bum!



  

                   

Go on home, Gordon!



  

                   

Why don't you give up?

You're all through!



  

                   

Hey, what's going on in there?



  

                   

There you go.

That's better.



  

                   

Look...



  

                   

...if you don't mind me...



  

                   

if you don't mind me asking you,

what happened?



  

                   

Well, about an hour ago...



  

                   

Well?



   

                   

What do you want?



   

                   

I'm sorry.



   

                   

I really am sorry.



   

                   

It really doesn't matter now, does it?



   

                   

I said I'm sorry.

Can't you forgive me?



   

                   

No.



   

                   

Please. Gloria, please.



   

                   

Go away. Get out.



   

                   

That figures to be.



   

                   

All my life I've always spoiled

the things that meant the most to me.



   

                   

All my life.



   

                   

I really don't care.

I just want you to get out of here.



   

                   

Gloria, please,

can't you understand?



   

                   

lf... if only you could know

how low and worthless I feel.



   

                   

I didn't even know

you had any feelings.



   

                   

You foolish girl.



   

                   

I'm... I'm mad about you.



   

                   

I want to get you out of here.

I'll set you up right.



   

                   

- I'll be your slave forever.

- Nothing, nothing.



   

                   

- You couldn't do anything for me.

- Please. All right, don't forgive me.



   

                   

Just tolerate me

and let me suffer knowing how you feel.



   

                   

Can't you get it, Vinnie?



   

                   

To me you're just an old man,

and you smell bad.



   

                   

I'm mad about you.



   

                   

I can't stand it when I see

those guys dancing with you.



   

                   

Every time I see it, my insides burn.



   

                   

You won't have to see it anymore.



   

                   

Please.

Please, just another chance.



   

                   

- No. No chance, no nothing.

- Please.



   

                   

Let go of me or I'll scream.



   

                   

Don't think about it anymore.



   

                   

He won't come back.

Don't worry.



   

                   

I'm so tired now.



   

                   

Just close your eyes.



   

                   

Don't worry about anything.



   

                   

I'll sit here with you for a while.



   

                   

I locked her door and went home.



   

                   

But first thing in the morning,

I went back across to see how she was.



   

                   

My knocking woke her up,



   

                   

but she was all smiles and yawns

and invited me in for breakfast.



   

                   

Later over coffee,

she told me she had seen the fight,



   

                   

and I suppose that got me started

talking about myself,



   

                   

about what a wash-up I was,



   

                   

how I was going back to Seattle

and work on my uncle's horse ranch.



   

                   

But when I think back about it now,

I realize that all the time I was talking,



   

                   

the thing that was really in my mind

was to remember not to ask



   

                   

what it was her boss, Rappalo,

was so sorry for.



   

                   

Anyway, let's talk about you.



   

                   

Like...



   

                   

Who are those people

in that picture over there?



   

                   

And how'd you ever get messed up

with that dance hall guy?



   

                   

What's the matter?



   

                   

Nothing.



   

                   

Just that it's so funny

that you should ask



   

                   

those questions that way,

together that way.



   

                   

Why?



   

                   

Well, they have both so much

to do with each other.



   

                   

How do you mean?



   

                   

It's sort of an involved story.

Do you really want to hear it?



   

                   

If you don't mind telling me,

I would, very much.



   

                   

I don't mind.



   

                   

For some reason, I feel like telling you.



   

                   

I've never told anybody before.



   

                   

This is my father,

and this is my sister Iris.



   

                   

But I suppose it's really Iris' story.



   

                   

She was a ballet dancer,

and everyone said she was very good.



   

                   

She adored Daddy,

and of course, she was his favorite.



   

                   

But let me start

from the beginning.



   

                   

Iris was eight years old.



   

                   

Father was a writer

with a growing reputation,



   

                   

and Mother was very beautiful

and very intelligent.



   

                   

They loved each other very much,

and they were very happy.



   

                   

Then I was born,

and my mother died on the same day.



   

                   

They say Father went on a two-week

drunk to celebrate the double event.



   

                   

And after that, I don't think

he ever thought of another woman.



   

                   

Time passed, and Iris grew

more beautiful each day.



   

                   

She was the image of her mother.



   

                   

Everyone said so.



   

                   

Iris was Daddy's favorite,

and I was very jealous.



   

                   

And maybe I began to hate her.



   

                   

Daddy was good to me

and maybe he loved me a little, too.



   

                   

By the time she was   

she was dancing with the Ballet Russe,



   

                   

and Daddy was so proud of her.



   

                   

And then I remember the day clearly.



   

                   

It was my   th birthday,

Sunday afternoon.



   

                   

Iris came home excited

and told us of her marriage proposal.



   

                   

The man wasn't bad-looking...

in his early   s and very rich.



   

                   

Father knew him and liked him,



   

                   

but he couldn't stop laughing

when Iris told how she said no



   

                   

simply because the fella wanted her

to give up her dancing



   

                   

and just be his wife.



   

                   

She never said

if she loved him or not.



   

                   

Then a few months later,

Daddy took sick and didn't get better.



   

                   

And it turned out

that he never would



   

                   

and that he would need

constant medical care until the end.



   

                   

"Six months to two years," they said.



   

                   

Iris' salary wasn't enough,



   

                   

and in two months' time,

all our savings were gone.



   

                   

I couldn't work.

I was only    and still in grade school.



   

                   

The next thing I knew,

she married her rich suitor,



   

                   

and we were all living in great style

on his estate in Long Island.



   

                   

Daddy had the best care

money could buy,



   

                   

and he seemed happy

despite everything.



   

                   

Iris gave up her dancing

according to the marriage bargain



   

                   

and did little else

but sit at Daddy's bedside.



   

                   

Sick as he was, he always

laughed a lot when they were together.



   

                   

I guess I hated her

more than ever now.



   

                   

A year passed like that.



   

                   

Her husband was a sweet man, but

none of us paid much attention to him.



   

                   

And by then, I'm sure he knew

she didn't love him,



   

                   

but he never said anything.



   

                   

Then one cold winter morning,



   

                   

the maid woke us

and said that Daddy was dead.



   

                   

Iris was like a stone.



   

                   

She didn't even blink.



   

                   

I began to cry

and shout that I hated her...



   

                   

that she had only pretended with Daddy



   

                   

and that she didn't ever love him.



   

                   

She didn't say a word.



   

                   

In his room, she stood quietly over

his body for a long time and smiled.



   

                   

Then she went upstairs to her room

and put on their favorite record.



   

                   

It was from one of her ballets.



   

                   

She played it very loud.



   

                   

A short time later,

her husband found her in bed



   

                   

with the covers drawn

up to her neck.



   

                   

She had cut her wrists,

and she was dead.



   

                   

She left me a note.



   

                   

She said she loved me.



   

                   

She was sorry for making

a mess of everything between us.



   

                   

A few days later, I was in the city

attending to some legal things,



   

                   

and I happened to pass

the dance hall.



   

                   

The sign read, "Pleasureland...

dancing partners wanted."



   

                   

I don't know what possessed me.

I went up.



   

                   

I actually took the job.



   

                   

I don't understand any part of it.



   

                   

Every night I worked

in that depraved place...



   

                   

a human zoo...



   

                   

I kept thinking, "At least Iris

never had... had to dance like this."



   

                   

And then I started to feel

less unhappy.



   

                   

Come on.

Let's go out for a walk.



   

                   

She got dressed,

and we went out for a walk.



   

                   

And I bought her an ice cream

and saw her laugh for the first time.



   

                   

I suppose we must have walked for

hours, and slowly her mood changed,



   

                   

and she became very happy

and optimistic about life in general.



   

                   

But when I told her I was planning



   

                   

to take the train back to Seattle

the next day,



   

                   

she got serious again

and very quiet.



   

                   

I didn't know it then,

but I was already in over my head,



   

                   

and I couldn't have cared less.



   

                   

We didn't get back until after lunch,



   

                   

and then in her apartment...



   

                   

- Something's happened.

- I know.



   

                   

- Do you know?

- Sure. You kissed me.



   

                   

Is that all?



   

                   

That's all I saw,

and I was watching all the time.



   

                   

I love you.



   

                   

Love me? That's funny.



   

                   

Why is it so funny? Why?



   

                   

It's a mistake

to confuse pity with love.



   

                   

Look, Gloria...



   

                   

Looking back now, I really don't know

what her reasons were then,



   

                   

but she agreed

to come out to Seattle with me.



   

                   

I should have had sense enough,

though, to know that it was no good,



   

                   

and she was so scared,

she'd grab at anything.



   

                   

But I was kidding myself, and all I could

think of was how much I wanted her.



   

                   

We made train reservations



   

                   

and wired Uncle George

to brace himself for a niece.



   

                   

And then we began

to get our finances together.



   

                   

- Yes.

- This is Louie out front.



   

                   

Gloria Price just called and said

I should tell you she's coming in tonight



   

                   

to pick up her last week's salary.



   

                   

You there, Mr. Rappalo?



   

                   

Thanks. Good-bye.



   

                   

- Hello, Albert.

- Hello there, Davey.



   

                   

- How are you?

- Okay, thanks.



   

                   

Listen, have you got enough money on

you to cash my check from yesterday?



   

                   

What's the rush?

Bank's open in the morning.



   

                   

I don't feel too good.



   

                   

I think I'll go out to Seattle for a while

and take stock of things.



   

                   

- I'll explain it...

- Wait, I'll see.



   

                   

Thanks. I'd appreciate it.



   

                   

- Okay, come on over.

- Say...



   

                   

How about... Pleasureland instead?



   

                   

You know, that dance hall

at   th and Broadway.



   

                   

Maybe around  :   tonight?



   

                   

I'll be there,

but it has to be  :   sharp.



   

                   

I'm taking my wife to a show,

and I'll just about make it.



   

                   

All right. I'll see you there.

Take it easy.



   

                   

Okay.



   

                   

- Still feel the same way?

- Yes.



   

                   

I understand

you're going away someplace.



   

                   

Yes.



   

                   

- Where?

- That's my business.



   

                   

- I came for my paycheck.

- Oh, sure.



   

                   

- How much do I owe you?

- For a week.



   

                   

- Can't you tell me where you're going?

- No.



   

                   

- Will I ever see you again?

- I doubt it.



   

                   

- I couldn't take that.

- You'll have to.



   

                   

- That's not true.

- Why isn't it?



   

                   

I could kill you right here and now.



   

                   

I don't think you will.



   

                   

I wouldn't be too sure of that.



   

                   

Look, Vinnie,

l... I really am in a hurry.



   

                   

- For what?

- Somebody's waiting downstairs.



   

                   

- You going away with him?

- I don't have to tell you anything.



   

                   

All the same, you are,

though, aren't you?



   

                   

You figure it out.



   

                   

- Then you are.

- No comment.



   

                   

He's a bum. You'll spend

the rest of your life grubbing for him.



   

                   

- Is that so?

- Sure.



   

                   

Like the man said,

"Can happiness buy money?"



   

                   

Well, you're a comedian, too.

See what I'm missing?



   

                   

Get out.



   

                   

I'm not asking for favors,

but you owe it to me.



   

                   

Get out!



   

                   

Come on.

Give me back the scarf.



   

                   

Come on.



   

                   

Come on!



   

                   

Miss, the boss says he's sorry,



   

                   

and if you go upstairs,

you can collect your money.



   

                   

What do you guys want?



   

                   

Who are you?



   

                   

Here. You want my money?



   

                   

Here, take it.



   

                   

Where'd you go?



   

                   

Some jerk grabbed my scarf.

Did you get the money?



   

                   

First he said no,

then he gave me an extra hundred.



   

                   

He's weird.

Did you see Albert?



   

                   

Somebody was here before.



   

                   

I guess he got tired of waiting.

We'll call him when he gets home.



   

                   

We had some ham and eggs



   

                   

and took our time saying good-bye

to the bright lights.



   

                   

Then we went home.



   

                   

Downstairs in the courtyard,

I suggested we each go and get packed



   

                   

and I'd come over when I was through.



   

                   

Open up in there!



   

                   

Hey, you.

Open this door!



   

                   

Open the door!



   

                   

Looks like he's gone.



   

                   

- You know where?

- No, sir.



   

                   

- Where's he from?

- I don't know.



   

                   

- When did he leave?

- I don't know.



   

                   

- How long's he lived here?

- About a year.



   

                   

Give me a hand with this drawer.

It's jammed.



   

                   

Yes, sir.



   

                   

- Say, what kind of trouble is he in?

- Bad trouble.



   

                   

They found his manager's body

about an hour ago



   

                   

with his head bashed in.



   

                   

Okay, let's go.



   

                   

Good morning, Mr. Rappalo.



   

                   

Gee, I'm sorry I missed you

at the arena last week,



   

                   

but, well, anyhow,

Mr. Albert told me to tell you...



   

                   

That was my manager

you knocked off.



   

                   

I don't know

what you're talking about.



   

                   

- Where is she?

- Who do you mean?



   

                   

- The girl, where is she?

- I don't know.



   

                   

You don't know?



   

                   

I'm gonna count to three,



   

                   

and if you still don't know,

I'm gonna blow your brains out.



   

                   

One, two...



   

                   

She's in a loft on   th Street.



   

                   

- How'd she get there?

- Boys were waiting at her apartment.



   

                   

- Is she all right?

- Yeah, sure, she's all right.



   

                   

I had to do it.



   

                   

She saw the boys at the dance hall.



   

                   

She was a witness.

I thought you were dead.



   

                   

They grabbed her and made it look

like she packed up and left.



   

                   

l... I thought you were dead.



   

                   

I didn't want murder.



   

                   

It's all gone wrong.



   

                   

Get goin'!



   

                   

Get 'em up.



   

                   

Is that you, Mr. Rappalo?



   

                   

Yes, it's me, boys.



   

                   

Up! Everybody up!



   

                   

Against the wall

and lean on your hands.



   

                   

Come on.



   

                   

- How are you, baby?

- I'm okay.



   

                   

I can't get the rope.



   

                   

Be careful.



   

                   

You.



   

                   

Yeah, you.



   

                   

Untie her.



   

                   

Listen, Vinnie... don't kill me.



   

                   

I don't want to die.



   

                   

I'll do anything you say.

Anything.



   

                   

You love him though, don't you?



   

                   

I don't know.

I don't think so.



   

                   

I've only known him two days.



   

                   

Two days?



   

                   

Please, Vinnie.

Please don't kill me.



   

                   

You said you were

mad about me, remember?



   

                   

I'm just an old man,

and I smell bad, remember?



   

                   

I didn't mean it.



   

                   

You know I didn't mean it.



   

                   

- We could go away.

- Sure.



   

                   

Sure, I've got lots of money.



   

                   

We could have

loads of fun someplace, sure.



   

                   

London, Paris, Sicily.



   

                   

I'll do anything you want.



   

                   

Maybe we could get married,

settle down, have a couple of kids.



   

                   

- Sure.

- Sure.



   

                   

What do you take me for,

a   -karat sucker?



   

                   

You and lover boy

aren't gonna put me in the hot seat.



   

                   

You liked me once, remember?



   

                   

Remember how nice it was?



   

                   

It could be like that again, Vinnie.

It could be like that again.



   

                   

- You're forgetting about him?

- I don't care about him.



   

                   

Baby, you coulda had anything once,

but, no, you were too good for me.



   

                   

So you come up to my office,

and you get me mad.



   

                   

So I send the boys down

to work over lover boy.



   

                   

They grab the wrong guy.



   

                   

He bangs his head too hard

on the sidewalk,



   

                   

so that makes me the sucker?



   

                   

Not on your life, baby.



   

                   

Not on your life!



   

                   

Don't shoot. Come on.



   

                   

Stay with her.

Go ahead!



   

                   

He went down there.



   

                   

Be careful.

It's a dead-end alley.



   

                   

He'll never get out.



   

                   

Look out!



   

                   

Get that down!

Come on, hurry!



   

                   

- What's the matter?

- My leg.



   

                   

- Come on!

- I can't.



   

                   

My gun!



   

                   

I gotta get out of here.



   

                   

I don't see anything, do you, Joe?



   

                   

Well, let's go up to the roof

and take a look anyway.



   

                   

When the cops came,

I took them back to free Gloria.



   

                   

The guy on the roof

was picked up later.



   

                   

On the ride to the police station,

Gloria didn't say very much.



   

                   

I guess she was trying

to work out in her own mind



   

                   

why I ran and left her alone like that.



   

                   

I don't suppose she ever thought

about how I might've felt



   

                   

listening to her talk

to Rappalo that way.



   

                   

At the station house,

they separated us for questioning.



   

                   

Five hours later, they chalked off

Rappalo with self-defense



   

                   

and then worked a confession

from the hoods on Albert's murder.



   

                   

I was free.



   

                   

On my way out, the desk sergeant said

Gloria had left an hour before.



   

                   

There was no message for me,



   

                   

and I haven't heard from her

or seen her since.



   

                   

And now I don't suppose

I ever will again.



   

                   

Anyway, I guess

the whole thing was pretty silly...



   

                   

know a girl for two days

and fall in love.



   

                   

So I cashed my check,

sent flowers to Albert's widow,



   

                   

cleaned up, and here I am.



   

                   

The Pathfinder to Chicago

and Seattle,



   

                   

leaving at  :  



   

                   

west gate, track   .



   

                   

Passengers for Pittsburgh, Chicago,



   

                   

St. Louis and Seattle.



   

                   

This train has reserved seats,

dining cars, and sleeping cars.



   

                   

The Pathfinder to Chicago

and Seattle leaving...



   

                   

Davey!



   

                   

Davey!







 

  

  

 
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