"In writing fiction, the more fantastic the tale, the plainer the prose should be. Don't ask your readers to admire your words when you want them to believe your story." - Ben Bova [ more quotes ]

"THE DOORS"

Screenplay by

Randall Jahnson and Oliver Stone

SHOOTING DRAFT

1991



INT. BLACK SCREEN

MORRISON'S VOICE
The movie will begin in five moments
The mindless voice announced
All those unseated will await the
next show
We filed slowly, languidly into the
hall
The auditorium was fast and silent
As we seated and were darkened
The voice continued
"The program for this evening is not
new
You've seen this entertainment
Through and through
You've seen your birth, your life
and death
You might recall all the rest
Did you have a good world when you
died?
Enough to base a movie on?"

FADE IN:

INT. RECORDING STUDIO (LAST SESSION) - LA DEC 1970 - NIGHT

A dark silence hovers along the deserted, bunker-like studio.
MIKE stands and booms shadow a grand piano...

The ENGINEER waits in the booth, lit, alert man, bored,
fiddling...

ENGINEER
Hey Jim, It's your birthday man,
whaddaya say we try this another
night...

Camera moving tentatively along the shadows, discovering the
sidelight on a Navy surplus pea jacket thrown on a chair;
moving to a candle's orange flutter on pages written with
verse... a hand breaking the seal of the bottle of Irish
Bushmill's whiskey.

VOICE
(off)
Kill the lights a little more, will
ya John?

They might drop a bit more... Camera crawling past the FINGERS
weaving a new cigarette out of the Marlboro pack. An ashtray
full of butts... and an asthmatic horrid cough, filled with
phlegm... crawling up the slight paunch in the bright jersey
with #66 on it... stitched on the sleeve is the team mascot --
an American Indian in full headdress.

ENGINEER
(off)
Hey man, how come the Doors aren't
in on this?

Camera revealing JAMES DOUGLAS MORRISON, -- 27, poet, buried
in the shadows, curls of cigarette smoke about his haunted
sensuous eyes, meditative lips scragged with beard and long
greasy hair, not a pretty sight, yet a man full and bold and
struggling for survival through his words... beneath the
Bushmill moon, he takes the tambourine and shakes it violently
in our face

JIM
No music, No Doors. Let's roll... Is
everybody in?... Is Everybody in?...
Is everybody in? The ceremony is
about to begin...

He shakes a TAMBOURINE at the mike and one of his sudden
giant Indian YELLS rock through the studio.

JIM
WAKE UP!!!! HAS THIS DREAM STOPPED!!!!

Music riffs from "American Prayer". AUDIENCE SOUNDS ghostly
on the track. The ENGINEER reeling backwards from the sudden
shift in sound, cursing silent.

JIM VOICE
Let me tell you about the heartache
and the loss of God Wandering
wandering in hopeless night Indian's
scattered on dawn's highway bleeding
ghosts crowd the young childs fragile
eggshell mind...
(wind sounds)

The GRIN on Jim's face magnesium flares out to:

EXT. ARIZONA DESERT - DAY (1940'S)

The blinding YELLOWNESS of the desert, so barren, so hot it
stings to look at. An OLD CHEVROLET winds through the yellow-
orange landscape beneath a brooding blue SKY crackling with
ELECTRICITY -- the storm coming in in the distance as the
MUSIC writhes out at us like a reptile from under a rock --
the beat of RIDERS ON THE STORM.

DOORS SONG
Riders on the storm (2)
Into this house we're born
Into this world we're thrown
Like a dog without a bone
An actor out on loan
Riders on the storm

CREDITS ROLL, OVER THIS DREAMSCAPE

JIM VOICE
(continues over imagery)
...me and my mother and father and
grandmother and grandfather were
driving through the desert at dawn
and a truckload of Indian workers
had either hit another car or just --
I don't know what happened... Indians
were scattered all over the highway
bleeding to death.

INT. CAR - DAY

MOM, DAD, the youngest BABY in the front seat -- pointing at
the storm.

GRANDMA & GRANDAD in the back with JIM, about 4 and his
SISTER, 3 asleep.

Mom's a beauty and Dad's an austere handsome military man in
civilian clothes, mouthing words -- look, wake them up, a
desert storm... but we barely hear

A LIGHTNING BOLT shreds the blue sky with a thunderous sound,
frightening dawn of creation...

Grandma nudging Jim awake. His eyes open --

Just as the car turns the bend -- revealing

An overturned TRUCK lying in the road -- dead and wounded
INDIANS everywhere... A cop car, ambulance. A terrible
accident...

The first thing Jim sees...

An old INDIAN FACE staring at him...

The car pulling alongside, Dad rolling his window down...
asking if he can help (SOUNDLESS) A line of wailing INDIAN
WOMEN, CHILDREN

Mom's scared face...

JIM VOICE
...but it was the first time I tasted
fear. I musta been about four, like
a child is just like a flower, his
head is floating in the breeze.

Grandma trying to hide Jim's face but he looks back...

THE COP WAVING THEM THROUGH

The kid looking back through the rear window, terrified --
his first view of death. The bodies, the sense of doom
overlaying the land -- a child's worst nightmare.

MOM
It's just a dream, Jimmy, just a
dream

SONG
(continues)
There's a killer on the road
His brain is squirming like a toad
Take a long holiday
Let your children play
If you give this man a ride
Sweet family will die
There's a killer on the road

The boy's eyes going back to the Indian MAN looking at him...
then to the dying opened body bleeding out its guts on the
asphalt... the dying man's face, twisted, moaning, amazing
eyes at the point of death -- they settle on Jim

MOM
It's just a dream Jimmy, just a dream

A strange SOUND occurs -- the rattle of an ancient gourd,
"shi-chi-chi, shi-chi-chi". Something flying through the
air. A bull-roarer, a whirling leather thong, announcing the
appearance of a shaman.

INTO JIM -- his eyes staring out the back His receding point
of view -- the Indians, the overturned truck...

JIM VOICE
...The reaction I get now looking
back is the soul of the ghosts of
those dead Indians -- maybe one or
two of them were just running around
freaking out and just leaped into my
soul -- and they're still there.
(wind, music)

SONG
Girl you gotta love your man (2)
Take him by the hand
Make him understand

The car pulling away across the giant 1940's landscape

DISSOLVING TO:

EXT. ARIZONA DESERT - DAY (1963)

SUBTITLE READS: ARIZONA DESERT, 1963. CREDITS CONTINUE TO
ROLL.

Panning up the black chino pants to JIM MORRISON, now 20,
steel seaman's suitcase in hand, thumbing a ride, the road
sign behind him saying "Los angeles 370 miles"

SONG
The world on you depends
Our life will never end
Girl you gotta love your man

A LARGE LIZARD in the dust cocks its head, blinks, as the
boots walk by to the car pulling over.

INT. CAR

JIM in the backseat packed with HUSBAND, WIFE, CHILDREN,
DOG, MOTHER-IN-LAW. Between boy and man, eyes ancient and
new. He wears his favorite color: black -- torn black chinos,
paint-spotted black t-shirt, a slouch his favorite pose but
the eyes and smile can be warm and shy like a little boy,
gentle surface, storm in the brain.

The HUSBAND, now looking at Jim a little nervously, pushes
up the Perry Como on the radio... as it cuts to a sudden
news flash:

RADIO
...from the Texas School Book
Depository. We repeat. President
John F. Kennedy was shot a few minutes
ago in Dallas!

SLOW MOTION: The Husband's face distorting, saying something
on the track like: "What! God NO!" but it's subdued, low.
Trying other stations.

Jim turns to look out his window, as if he already knew.

RADIO
(2nd VOICE)
...taken to Parkland Memorial
Hospital. There's no word on the
President's condition. Mrs. Kennedy
is...

The WIFE'S and HUSBAND'S VOICES seem lost in the background.

WIFE & HUSBAND
Oh God, Oh God. Not the President
for Christ's sake. Oh God -- WHO'S
NEXT?

On Jim -- staring out the window. "Who's next!"

SONG
Riders on the storm (4)

On the DESERT.

DISSOLVE TO:

EXT. VENICE BOARDWALK - LOS ANGELES - DAY (1965)

SUBTITLE READS: VENICE, CALIFORNIA 1965

CREDITS continue to their conclusion as we segue into the
BLUENESS of VENICE, CALIFORNIA, 1965 -- the dawn of a new
age. All was possible.

Individual SHOTS of the BOARDWALK throbbing with a feast of
HIPPIES, head shops, ARTISTS drawing psychedelic murals, POT
SMOKERS, MUSCLE BUILDERS, tambourines accompanying the
transister radios on the Beach Boys and "I Got You Babe",
dogs chasing frisbees, BIKINI BODIES on the beach, LSD sold
over the counter... set to the upbeat chords of HELLO I LOVE
YOU

DOORS SONG
Hello I love you
Won't you tell me your name?
Hello I love you
Let me jump in your game
She's walking down the street
Blind to every eye she meets
Do you think you'll be the guy
To make the queen of the angels sigh?

JIM, in torn black chinos, no shirt, walking real slow past
it all, carrying a notebook of his own and a paperback of
Baudelaire, his eyes settling on...

A YOUNG BEAUTY and her yellow labrador -- a fashionable thin,
long, red-haired "20th century fox" in jeans moving through
the crowd...

He thinks about it -- a fraction of eternity -- and he's
off... after her.

EXT. VENICE CANAL - DAY

She moves along its banks, as if the universe moved to her
rhythm, turning once to look back. Jim caught in her eyes.
They're alone. Now he's the one seized by doubt. He slows,
pretends to take another interest.

DOORS SONG
She holds her head so high
Like a statue in the sky
Her arms are wicked
And her legs are long
When she moves
My brain screams out this song

EXT. VENICE CANAL - ANOTHER CANAL - DAY

As she turns into another street, he resumes following her.
She gets to a house, goes in. There's a group of people
partying. He stops, watches.

DOORS SONG
Sidewalk crouches at her feet
Like a dog that begs for something sweet
Do you hope to make her see you, fool?
Do you hope to pluck this dusky jewel?

EXT. PAMELA'S HOUSE - VENICE CANAL - THAT EVENING

The two story house has a quaint run-down charm. Friends
have dropped by, people smoking joints, beers.

She's on the upstairs balcony -- talking with a YOUNG MAN
(professor type) in his 30's, who passes her a joint.

JIM lurks in the shadows of the trees; he's been standing
outside watching... The MUSIC shifts to the quieter LOVE
STREET.

DOORS SONG
She lives on Love Street
Lingers long on Love Street
She has a house and garden
I would like to see what happens

The YOUNG MAN gestures, and goes back inside the house. She's
alone now on the balcony, sitting on a kitchen table...

It's now or never. Jim scales the tree alongside the house
with the agility of a gymnast.

DOORS SONG
She has robes and she has monkeys
Lazy diamond studded flunkies
She has wisdom and knows what to do
She has me and she has you

The girl's grinding up pot in an old shoebox with a spoon
and kitchen strainer. She looks up and sees his crotch three
feet from her face, balanced there effortlessly on the railing
like a highwire act, opens her mouth in surprise.

Jim drops softly to the balcony, a smile of disarming
gentleness.

JIM
Hi...

GIRL
Wow! Hi...
(looking at the tree)
You have a problem with doors?

JIM
Waste of time...

His head cocked slightly onto his left shoulder, he drawls,
southern gentleman, polite, slow, thoughtful as if he had
all the time in the world, as if the guy would never come
back.

JIM
I followed you... from the beach...

GIRL
(impressed)
Wow! You followed me? Why?

JIM
...cause... you're the one...

He moves. Kisses her swiftly, softly, right on the lips.

GIRL
(mesmerized, awkward)
Wow... neat...
(looks back)
...maybe you should meet my old man?

JIM
Later. You got a name?

He looks into her face. Classic American face, freckles, big
round eyes soft as rain, long sunset red hair. She feels his
intense, starving eyes. He kisses her a second time.

The YOUNG MAN coming back with the rolling paper -- sees
him.

As he hops back on the railing -- swings out into the tree --
looks back once.

JIM
Mine's Jim.

A moment. She must decide. The YOUNG MAN within earshot.

GIRL
Pam...

The ice broken in that instant. Jim smiles.

JIM
Jim and Pam, Pam and Jim...

He vanishes. The Man abreast of Pamela, as if he's seen a
vision.

YOUNG MAN
Who the hell was that?

PAMELA
(everything's cool)
That's Jim. My new friend.

INT. UCLA SCREENING ROOM - DAY (1965)

On the screen a 16mm black and white student film of a
stunning BLOND in black bra, panties, garters dancing in
black heels on top of a TV set. panning down to images of
goose-stepping Nazis and a Nuremberg rally on the set. Sounds
of lovemaking and an Indian peyote ceremony from the track,
an Indian holy man incanting... Jim's VOICE comes on the
track as well.

JIM'S VOICE
Nietzche said "all great things must
first wear monstrous and terrifying
masks in order to inscribe themselves
on the hearts of humanity". Listen
children -- to the sound of the
Nuremberg night.

STUDENTS in the audience groan at the pretention of it. Moving
to JIM's eyes hidden in his parka hood, peeking through at
the screen.

A CLOSEUP now of JIM on screen looking straight into the
lens as he takes a hit on a hash pipe, and winks.

JIM VOICE
(on screen)
Have you ever seen God? -- a mandala.
A symmetrical angel. Felt? Yes.
Fucking the Sun. Heard? The music.
Voices. Touched? An animal. Your
hand Tasted? Rare meat, corn, water
and wine

STUDENTS
(ad lib)
SSSSssss... ego trip man, c'mon!

RAY MANZAREK, a tall student with powerful voice and manner,
thick glasses, long hair sweeping down over his eyes, leans
over to Jim.

RAY
Hey man it's great, don't listen to
em, it's non-linear man, it's poetry
man, everything Godard stands for.

The lights coming on as the last absurdist images flicker
off. Hissing and a big Bronx cheer summarize the feelings of
the 100 odd STUDENTS crammed into a bunker-like theater.

A youngish INSTRUCTOR stirs to the front row from a row of
upset FACULTY. Hands shooting up to criticize.

INSTRUCTOR
This is pretty shocking stuff Mr.
Morrison. And I might say indulgent.
Naziism and masturbation, when used
for shock value, are not art. But to
be constructive, let's start with
your intention. What was it?

STUDENT 1
It was a bore!! That's what!
(laughter)

TRICK, BONES and JACK, three friends sitting next to Jim,
shoot their hands up.

TRICK
Hey it was better'n a Warhol picture.

GIRL 1
No it wasn't. It was worse!

TRICK
A guy sleeping for seven hours...

STUDENT 2
...is less pretentious! There was no
political consciousness. Naziism
is...

JACK
Hey hold on man! You guys are the
facists!

BONES
It takes genitalism to absurdity
man, just cause the squares here
can't dig it cause the film school's
still so square...

VOICES
Oh c'mon man, give it a break. Boo!
Beatniks go home! Take another
mushroom...

A cacophony of voices, critics, emotions blend out over Jim's
quiet eyes.

INSTRUCTOR
HOLD IT DOWN!!... Mr. Morrison --
what are your feelings?

JIM
I quit.
(walks out)

EXT. TURKEY JOINT WEST - NIGHT

JIM, BONES, TRICK, JACK approaching the bar. MUSIC of "GLORIA"
blasting from the door, CHICKS popping in and out, definitely
college crowd circa '65.

TRICK
(to Jim)
Hey man whatdya expect, an Oscar?

BONES
You can't quit, you gotta voice.
People can't dig cause they don't
understand yet.

JACK
If you're an individual, if you're
too good, they wanna cut your dick
off. Look what happened to Orson
Wells.

TRICK
You quit now, they'll yank your
deferment in no time and they'll get
you for Vietnam man. Three more months
you graduate.

BONES
Be cool, you never learned fuckin
patience Morrison, you want everything
at once.

NICK
They didn't get it. So make your
films and fuck what they think.

JIM
You know what I think?

He slows, a dramatic young lion pose, surveying the girls.

BONES
Yeah whadday you think?

JIM
You really want to know what I think?

The cronies wait, anticipating something inescapably evil to
escape his lips.

BONES
Yeah yeah, whatddaya think?

JIM
I think we gotta get really ripped!

INT. TURKEY JOINT WEST - NIGHT

Tall bespectacled RAY MANZAREK is banging out GLORIA on the
piano in bad Jerry Lee Lewis style.

RAY
I tell you bout my baby 'bout five
foot four from head to toe She came
to my room Just 'bout midnight She
makes me feel so good She makes me
feel alright

Camera moving to reveal JOHN DENSMORE wiry, solid on the
drums... moving on to ROBBIE KRIEGER, wispy, ethereal looking,
the youngest, flamenco-type moves on his early electric
guitar. Also a HARMONICA PLAYER and a BASE. They all seem
slightly embarrassed by either the cheap sound system feedback
or Ray's warbling, but the crowd couldn't care less -- a
German beerhall, they want noise and sex.

JIM and his GANG, beers in hand, mouth back the words, beers
everywhere shoved to the smokey ceiling, everyone on their
feet, nuts with spring fever. Jim eyeing the GIRL next to
him.

JIM
You know what I'd like to do to you?

GIRL
(waiting, intrigued)
No what?

JIM
You really want to know what I'd
like to do to you?

GIRL
What!

The FOOTBALL TEAM TYPES edge over nearby, one of them picking
out Jim with a glare.

JIM
(whispering)
Wanna hear the scream of the
butterfly...

She looks puzzled by the suggestion.

FOOTBALL PLAYER
Hey Morrison!

JIM
(eluding the man)
Can we have a couple of beers. You're
not even an asshole man -- you're a
semihole.

He evades the football man's grasp, elusive physicality. He
hops over tables, heading for the stage. Other KIDS are up
on the stage dancing, but Jim goes right up alongside RAY,
shaking his hips like Elvis. Ray giving him the mike. Improv
time.

JIM
(singing)
She came to my room
She came on my floor
She came on my bed
She came on my face
Ooooooh I want to wrap your legs
around my head baby baby and her
name was Gloria

They love it. The place going wild. The girl with the football
player wanting him.

INT. RAY'S CAR - FREEWAY - NIGHT

JIM is insane on beers in the back seat, reaching over the
wheel to try to drive the car for RAY who is flailing at
him. Jim pulling Ray's hair...

JIM
(barely comprehensible)
HA HA HA HA HA! COME ON, LET'S DRIVE
TO MEXICO MAN. TIJUANA. LET'S GET
LOST!

Jammed into the sedan are TRICK, BONES, ROBBIE, JOHN...

RAY & ALL
COOL IT JIM, COME ON COOL IT.

JIM
FREEDOM!!! DON'T YOU KNOW YOU'RE ALL
SLAVES!

As he winds down the window and starts crawling out of the
car. Heavy traffic. Ray weaving to avoid another vehicle.
Honking horn.

JOHN
HE'S GOING OUT! HE'S GOING OUT!

TRICK
HE'S GONNA JUMP!

RAY
GET HIM BACK IN!

His waist is out the window, John and all grabbing for his
heels.

EXT. SPEEDING CAR - NIGHT

SPECIAL EFFECT: JIM's head six inches from pavement moving
at 60 mph through heavy traffic. Screaming, laughing like a
maniac. Beeping horns all over the place.

JIM
DEATH OLD FRIEND!!

In the car, madness, raging chaos, the four boys pulling him
in.

EXT./INT. PAMELA'S HOUSE - VENICE CANAL - THAT NIGHT

Night. Shadows. A tree. A figure moving.

JIM
(SONG)
Awake!
Shake dreams from your hair, my pretty child my sweet one
Choose the day and choose the sign of your day
The day's divinity the first thing you see

Jim slides her upstairs' door open, crawls in next to her
bed. She's asleep with her boyfriend. He touches her toe.
She awakes, startled.

JIM
Come on, come out for a walk, it's a
pretty night.

PAM
You're crazy!

EXT. VENICE CANALS - NIGHT

JIM and PAMELA moving along the byways. A clear starry
California night.

JIM
(SONG)
A vast radiant beach
And a cool jewelled moon
Couples naked, race down by its quiet side
And we laugh like soft mad children

There's a crash. They turn bristling.

A COYOTE lurks under the sickly light of a streetlamp, pulling
its head from an overstuffed garbage can, looking back at
them.

EXT. VENICE BOARDWALK - NIGHT

Fires on the boardwalk. Hippies, Bums, Older People. JIM and
PAM move through talking, skipping, touching like children.

JIM
(SONG)
...smug in the wooly cotton brains of infancy
The music and voices are all around us
Choose, they croon, the ancient ones
The time has come again

EXT. VENICE BEACH - NIGHT

The two of them race down by its side, slowing to a walk.
His [...] loved orphan voice.

JIM
Can I stay with you tonight? We could
talk 'till dawn. I just don't want
to be alone.

PAM
(hesitant)
Okay... just talk though. No funny
stuff.

JIM
Okay. I promise.

PAM
I've been real upset. I lost my car
on the freeway yesterday. I left it
somewhere and I can't remember where
and when I went back it was gone. My
sister...

JIM
I bet you never expected life could
be this hard.
(strokes her hair
affectionately)
And you're still so young.

She breaks into sobs, seeking his arms. He hugs her.

JIM
I wonder where we'll be ten years
from now?

PAM
I really don't want to know

JIM
Come on.

JIM
(SONG)
Choose now, they croon
Beneath the moon
Beside an ancient lake
Enter again the sweet forest
Enter the hot dream
Come with us
Everything is broken up and dances

EXT. VENICE BUILDING - NIGHT

Their silhouettes mount the fire escape of a jagged old
structure overlooking the boardwalk.

EXT. VENICE ROOFTOP - NIGHT

PAM glancing through Jim's notebooks as they sit on his
sleeping bag with a lantern and bunsen burner, overlooking
moon, ocean, scudding clouds and a vast forest of television
antennas. Fires burn from the beach.

In the notebooks, at intervals during the conversation, we
see powerful sketches colored in visionary hallucinogenic
William Blake mode with writing between. Books are everywhere --
panning Kerouac, Ginsberg, Nietzsche, Rimbaud, Mailer, Artaud,
mythological works, shamanistic books, a library of stolen
ideas.

PAM
(reading, looking)
These are like beautiful! I never
read much poetry in school. I hated
it. What's a "shaman"?
(mispronounces)

JIM
He's the medicine man who starts in
a peyote trance. And he gets everyone
in the tribe going and they share in
his vision and it heals them. It's
the same in all cultures -- Greeks,
Jesus. Some Indians say the first
shaman invented sex. He's the one
who makes you crazy.

PAM
Are you a "shaman"?

JIM
Uh
(pause)
no. I just write about it. What turns
you on?

PAM
I don't know. Experience. Freedom.
Love... Now. Peyote's like love.
When it's given it's blessed. When
it's sold it's damned. I like peyote.
I like acid, it's easier to get. I
like the spiritual voyage. The first
time I did acid I saw God. I did. I
had a friend who was Christ. And he
was Judas too. I suddenly knew the
secret of everything -- that we're
all one, the universe is one. And
that everything is beautiful.

JIM
Is it? I don't know. I think you're
alive by confronting death -- by
experiencing pain.

PAM
I think you're alive by recognizing
beauty -- seeing truth because when
you discover truth you discover what
love is... we're all saying the same
thing. It's "love me and I'll love
you."

JIM
(looks at her, ironic)
It's only thru death that you know
life. Jesus, medicine men heal people
by sacrificing their own life.

PAM
Do you love Death?

JIM
I think life hurts a lot more than
death. When you die the pain is over.

Pam shivers, a strange thought.

PAM
Why do I look at you... and see my
death?
(pause, shrugs)
No, that's ridiculous.

JIM
I bet your dad's a school teacher.

PAM
How did you know!

JIM
I don't know.

PAM
What was your father?

JIM
Military

PAM
I bet you moved around a lot.

JIM
Yeah, about 8 times.

PAM
How many sisters and brothers?

JIM
Two.

PAM
One... she's the pretty one... I
love your neck.
(she gets in his lap)

He runs his fingers thru her hair, kissing her gently.

JIM
"...but one, the most beautiful one
of all dances in a ring of fire and
throws off the challenge with a shrug"

PAM
That's beautiful. Who did you write
it for?

JIM
I wrote it for you.

The panties coming off. Rousseau dangling from the Venice
moon. He moves a little over excited, nervous, more awkward
than we might expect.

PAM
...take your time, Jim... there's no
hurry, I'm all you have to do
tonight...

DOORS SONG
Well the clock says it's time to close now
I guess I'd better go now...
As we depart the rooftop.
Your fingers weak with minarets
Speaking secret alphabets
I light another cigarette
Learn to forget, learn to forget, learn to forget

DISSOLVE TO:

Possibly we hear the soft backbeat of MOONLIGHT DRIVE without
lyrics.

RAY MANZAREK is meditating in yoga posture, longer hair as
well, in his post-graduate phase, sandals, colorful hippie
shirt. But the meditation is not going well. He's shaking
his head at himself, frowning.

RAY
Om om... No bliss! No bliss!

Jim has approached closer, amused, looking down.

JIM
Hey Ray, try acid man, it's
guaranteed.

Ray opening his eyes -- his POV -- Jim, slouched, jacket
over his shoulder, sun behind him.

RAY
(surprised)
Morrison... Aw shit. Last trip I
thought I was going through hell's
digestive system. Something painted
by Hieronymus Bosch.

JIM
I never had a bummer on acid.

RAY
I like naturally high man.

JIM
Whatever works. Making movies at MGM
yet?

RAY
Well I saw the head of production
and I said Godard doesn't use scripts,
he improvises with his camera and he
said, "great who's Godard?"

JIM
(laughs)
We gotta take the planet back,
reinvent the Gods, make new myths.

RAY
Right on. I thought you went to New
York?

JIM
Never got there. Went out to the
desert and uh... got lost y'know.
Days. I been living on Trick's
rooftop. Got stuck on this chick...

RAY
Whatcha been doing?

JIM
Writing. Poems. Songs.

RAY
Songs? Lemme hear one.

JIM
I can't sing.

RAY
So neither can Dylan. "Johnny's in
the basement mixing up the medicine,
I'm on the pavement thinking about
the government". But he's got the
words man. That's what they want.

JIM
(suddenly sings)
Let's swim to the moon un hunh
Let's climb thru the tide
Penetrate the evening
That the city sleeps to hide

Jim has crouched, digging his hand in the sand. As the grains
spill out of his fist he has his eyes closed.

Ray pantomimes chords in the keyboard sand. All of a sudden
we're in RAY'S POV -- a mystical moment. Jim singing, no
sound, then pure song, unadulterated by atmosphere.

JIM
Let's swim out tonight love
It's our turn to try
Parked beside the ocean
On our moonlight drive

Jim stops, shrugs. Ray looks at him a long beat. Intense
eyes, the manner of a man who knows what he wants and cannot
be stopped.

RAY
Wow!... Y'know man those are hot
lyrics -- really hot!

JIM
(pleased)
...could you write the music for
that down, if we went over to your
place, could you write that on your
organ?

RAY
Are you kidding! I could fly. You
wrote that? You got others?

JIM
A bunch. It's like I'm taking notes
at a rock concert going on inside my
head. I actually hear the music --
the spirit of the wine y'know,
intoxication.

RAY
(slaps him on the
knee)
Man. You got a voice like Chet Baker --
haunted! What the hell happened to
you in the desert? Let's get a rock
and roll band together man and make
a million bucks.

JIM
...be great wouldn't it?

RAY
(walking JIM)
It's the perfect time man! Two of
the guys outta my band are really
into this. I meditate with them. You
know them... Robbie and John. We
could have it in the can in three
weeks.

JIM
Hey why not, I could write the songs
with you guys.

RAY
The Stones did it outta the London
School of Economics for Chrissake.
Things are about to explode man. You
can feel it in the air.
(points out over the
ocean)
Vietnam's right out there. Sides are
being chosen. People wanna fight or
fuck, love or kill, everything's
gonna flame. The planet's screaming
for change, Morrison. Make the myths
man!!

Jim laughs, loves Ray's ardor as they move along the ocean
side.

JIM
There oughta be great orgies man.
Like when Dionysus arrived in Greece,
he made all the women mad, leaving
their homes and dancing off in the
mountains. Great golden copulations
in the streets of LA.
(looks at a passing
girl)
Hey, do you know her?

RAY
What do we call ourselves. "Dionysus"?

JIM
I got a name.

RAY
What?

JIM
The Doors.

RAY
The Doors?
(facial distaste)
That's the most ridiculous...
(then)
...you mean the doors in your mind?
Like the Huxley book.

JIM
"The Doors of Perception"? Acid...

RAY
Yeah sure mescaline experiments --
reducing the sugar flow to the brain.
Great book.

JIM
It's from William Blake actually,
the line -- "when the doors of
perception are cleansed -- things
will appear as they truly are..."

RAY
(finishes)
-- infinite". It's great, Jim.

JIM
So where do we start? How do we start?
Where are the girls?

RAY
Rehearsing. You're moving off the
rooftop and in with me and Dorothy.

As they walk off, the two of them along the edge of the
Pacific. A dog jumping for a frisbee. The music of MOONLIGHT
DRIVE now riffs over the real song now.

DOORS SONG
Let's swim to the moon
Let's climb thru the tide
Penetrate the evening
That the city sleeps to hide...

DISSOLVING TO:

INT. RAY'S HOUSE - VENICE BEACH - DAY

The first heavy strains of BREAK ON THROUGH driving over the
DISSOLVE. It sounds bad technically, but it's hot. Random
raw screams and shouting. PAM is crosslegged on the floor,
clapping to the music, number one fan.

JIM & DOORS
(live)
The day destroys the night
Night divides the day
Tried to run
Tried to hide
Break on thru to the other side

JIM straining to make it work, jumping around violent, still
not in control. Yet searching. JOHN cutting out.

JOHN
That's really square. Let's hip it
up. Jump on your cues.

RAY
Tighten it up. Stay with the beat
Jim. You're dragging.

JIM
Let's try it again, come on. I'm
just getting into it.

PAM
(on floor)
I think it's hot!!

ROBBIE
(strumming)
I still think the lyrics are weird
man.

JOHN
(frustrated)
I still think it sounds like the
bottom of a fishbowl man.

JIM
(to Robbie, aggravated)
Then you write one man! We need more
songs anyway. We all gotta go back
and write.

They're drained, tired, in a large rehersal/living room 30
feet high, fronted by large glass windows looking out at the
beach at Marina. The room is filled with golden, gorgeous
setting sunlight.

PAMELA goes to the kitchen with DOROTHY, Ray's Japanese
fiancee.

ROBBIE
I been working on something goes
like this... A minor.
(chords his guitar)
"You know that it would be untrue
You know that I would be a liar
If I was to say to you
Girl, we couldn't get much higher"
F sharp... chorus
"Come on baby, light my fire
Try to set the night on fire..."

Robbie's voice is tinny but something immediate's in the
air, all the radar out.

RAY
Okay man there's some good changes
in there.

JIM
Got any more lyrics?

ROBBIE
(gives Jim a page of
lyrics)
Some. I call it "Light My Fire". I
figger if I'm gonna compete with
your stuff it's gotta be about earth,
fire or snakes.

JIM
Don't underestimate Death.

JOHN
Yeah but it sounds like the Byrds
man, we're not folk rock man. How
'bout trying it with a Latin beat.

ROBBIE
I thought we could do the usual verse
chorus verse chorus and

JOHN
We don't need a bridge.

ROBBIE
Yeah, we could maybe improvise a
couple piano and guitar solos over
it
(kicks in second verse)
"The time to hesitate is through"
(doesn't have the
second line)
Du du duh dud dada . . .

JIM
(spontaneous)
"No time to wallow in the mire
Try now we can only lose
And our love become a funeral pyre
Come on baby light my fire"

John drumming it, different, more Latin.

JIM
Pretty good! Pretty neat!!

RAY
(to John)
Nice groove, John. Chaka chaka chaka,
then bula burump bula
(to Robbie)
...you're right, it could take a
coupla long solos, that's wild man,
like Butterfield did on "East-West" --
really hip.

ROBBIE
Y'ever heard Coltrane's "Favorite
Things"?

JOHN
(hitting the drums)
Yeah -- maybe stretch it out and put
it in 4/4 on bass, 3/4 on guitar and
snare.

RAY
(clicking, excited)
Why not! A minor to B minor. Jazz!
That then is jazz! But it needs a
hook. Something. Give me some space.
I need some space. Leave the room
guys. Come on! Go!

The three excluded Doors head out to the beach like obedient
schoolboys while Ray fools with his organ.

EXT. VENICE BEACH - DAY

As they go out, JIM hugging ROBBIE's head to his shoulder as
they feel the excitement of a new song.

JOHN
(irritated at Ray)
Guy's obnoxious, man always bossin'
people around! I thought we were
equals!

JIM
Aren't we?
(to Robbie)
That was great Robbie. Whaddaya
thinking about when you play?

ROBBIE
Don't know. Mostly the fish in my
fish tank.

JIM
(laughs)
Hey whadya say we take some of that
Tijuana acid and see what kinda
trouble we can get into tonight?

ROBBIE
The chicks always go for you man. I
get the dogs.

JIM
Then we'll start a religion or plan
a murder or go to Tijuana.

JOHN
Whatsamatter with you man, what about
Pam, you got the morals of a coyote.

JIM
Why you wanna sleep with her John,
just to bug me?

JOHN
Hell NO!

JIM
...means "hell yes". She likes you
man, she really does and y'all should.
What's a rock and roll band for man,
if you can't party all night and do
bad things?

RAY
(yelling from the
house)
I GOT IT I GOT IT... GET IN HERE.
HURRY.

JOHN
Sieg Heil!

As they head back.

INT. RAY'S HOUSE - DAY

TIGHT on RAY like a schoolmaster cueing them.

RAY
Okay here it is. Bach and Rock. Count
it off John

JOHN
(clicking)
1... 2... 1 - 2 - 3
(crack)

It goes. The famous organ intro to LIGHT MY FIRE blends over
the room like magic, carrying JIM, ROBBIE, JOHN, DOROTHY,
PAMELA along over:

EXT. SUNSET STRIP (TRAVELLING) - NIGHT (1966)

A row of NIGHTCLUBS glisten off the hoods of passing traffic.
Marquees announce: THE BYRDS, RED ROOSTER, LOVE, THE HERD,
TURTLES, CAPTAIN BEEFHEART. The CLUBS are PANDORA'S BOX, THE
TRIP, CIRO'S, BIDO LITO'S, GAZZARRI'S, THE EXPERIENCE... .
Headlights and neon intercut with:

DOCUMENTARY TYPE SHOTS of TEENAGERS, HIPPIES, LONGHAIRS,
running summer rampant, banging tambourines. COPS busting
kids against cars on the street as PARENTS go by rolling up
their windows. The action was on the street. LIGHT MY FIRE
carries over the montage.

DOORS SONG
You know that it would be untrue etc.

JIM VOICE
(last session)
The music was new black polished
chrome and came over the summer like
liquid night.

EXT. LONDON FOG - NIGHT

"THE DOORS -- BAND FROM VENICE" on the marquee... moving
down to a motley crew of TEENAGE GIRLS, underage, trying to
get past the BOUNCER. The sounds of BREAK ON THROUGH carry
past when the doors open and close admitting a SAILOR.

GIRL GROUPIE
(approaching, to 2nd
girl)
Is that horny motherfucker in the
black pants here tonight?

BOUNCER
IDs! IDs! Can't get in without an
I.D..

GIRL 2
Oh please. I forgot my I.D.. I'm on
the list.

BOUNCER
I forgot my list.

INT. LONDON FOG - NIGHT

BREAK ON THROUGH blasting out at us from a sleazehole --
half full -- BIKERS, SAILORS, HOOKERS, a baseball game on
the TV. A dance floor the size of a bed, the DOORS on a tiny
platform above the bar, London newspapers on the wall.

JIM & DOORS
(live)
We chased our pleasures here
Dug our treasures there
Can you still recall the time we
cried
BREAK on through to the other side
(3)

Some groupies have formed a small fan club at the base of
the stage, muscling past PAM, but most people ignore them,
drinking, arguing, dancing to their own fuckbeats. Possibly
this has something to do with the fact that JIM sings with
his back to all of them.

JOHN looking over furious at RAY who mutters under the music.

RAY
Turn around Jim! Come on let 'em in.

JIM
I found an island in your arms
A country in your eyes
Arms that chained us, eyes that lied
(CHORUS)

Jim jumps around violently to the front, getting the attention
of all. Rubbing his leather pants against the mike stand,
leaning against it, not yet comfortable with the extrovert
side of himself, eyes closed, but starting to enjoy it. He
sings to Pam.

INT. BACKSTAGE - THE FOG - THAT NIGHT

JERRY, the ex-vice cop manager who runs the joint, can't
understand the appeal, talking to JIM and ROBBIE who are
packing and hauling their equipment out. DOROTHY is there.

PAM
(innocently)
So Jerry... do we get paid for this?

JERRY
(ignoring her)
What shit, "day destroys the night",
"crawl back in your brain", "go
insane". What do people wanna pay
money to hear that shit.

JIM
(explains it, gentle)
The greater the suffering, the more
terrible the events, the greater the
pleasure Jerry. They want it, it's
catharsis. Like the ancient Greeks.

JERRY
(amused)
We're in Los Angeles punk, how would
you know, they like your pants,
they're not listenin' to you, what
the hell they see in you I...

JIM
(laughs)
But they understand Jerry. All our
real desires are unconscious and
unseen. . .

JERRY
(scratching his head)
...you're the weirdest fuckin' guy I
ever...

JIM
You love us?

JERRY
I love ya. You got two more shows to
do.

Camera gliding across the small crowded smokey room to RAY
and JOHN in conversation with a slick Beverly Hills MANAGER
type.

MANAGER
...I got some real tight record
company connections, just leave it
to me man, I'll take you guys all
the fuckin' way, you blew my mind
out there.

RAY
Yeah right, but what about the music?

MANAGER
Hey the music? I love it man, that's
why we're talking right? Some of
it's a little on the dark side though.
Ya know ya oughta get some tunes
like Herman's Hermits stuff -- "Mrs.
Brown you got a lovely daughter".
That shit goes right to the radio
man.

RAY
Uh huh. Well, how 'bout gettin' us
some real equipment?

MANAGER
Listen, I sign you guys to a five
year management contract and you got
it all. Equipment. Demo. A truck
WITH roadies. Three, maybe four
percent record deal. Wherever ya
want to go babe, trust me, I'll get
you there. Whatd'ya say?

RAY
(exchanging looks
with John)
We'll have a band meeting. The four
of us do everything unanimously or
we don't do it.

MANAGER
The musketeers. I'm touched. But
lemme tell you something -- loyalty
don't pay the bills. Think about it.
Call me tomorrow.

He gives Ray a card, leaving, crossing to Jim and PAM talking.

JOHN
(to Ray)
What a sleaze! Man, Jim's gotta start
facing the crowd if he's gonna be
the front man.

RAY
He's just getting his confidence.

JOHN
He never does what we rehearsed.
What's the point of...

RAY
How does it feel?

JOHN
Great, but...

Pam on payphone calling her friends to come.

PAM
...make sure you get Barb and Sue
Anne to come. And tell them to ask
for Jim!

The MANAGER on his way out leaning into Jim's face, slyly.

MANAGER
Jim, how old are you?

JIM
Ah, twenty one...

MANAGER
Jesus, you're a gold mine, I'll make
it quick and to the point and if you
repeat it I'll deny it -- drop these
guys, I'll put you with some real
musicians, your voice, your looks,
that's what'll sell records, we'll
make a million bucks. A year. Goodbye.
Call me. I'm right. He gives Jim a
card and goes. Pam disgusted with
the type, Jim laughs, likes the guy.

JIM
I like a man wears his soul on his
face.

RAY
(coming over)
"Whiskey's" next, I can feel it in
my bones.

ROBBIE
I still think the lyrics are weird.

INT. LONDON FOG - NIGHT

MONTAGE EFFECT -- Jim sings "A Little Game" on the Fog stage.
Super over WHISKEY sign.

EXT. SUNSET STRIP -- THAT NIGHT

CU moving down -- the "LOVE" is on the marquee at the famous
WHISKY A GO GO as we move down to see JIM, PAM, and the DOORS.
Jim jumps through the TEEMING TRAFFIC (horns, anger) right
in front of a COP CAR, crossing to a long line of teenage
FANS dying to get into the club.

JIM
(to Ray, innocently)
Jesus Ray, every girl out there wanted
to fuck me, I could feel it for the
first time!

RAY
Right on stud. But you better watch
out for the guys.

JIM
(to the band)
Guys, I'm serious about the desert,
we still gotta deepen man, we gotta
take some peyote -- all of us
together, we got one more stage to
go...

ROBBIE
I don't know man, fucks up my playing.
I been playing music for 10 years
man and this is the first time in my
whole damned life I ever played it.

JIM
Are you satisfied?

JOHN
Will you get off my case! I'm never
doing acid again. Too many bad trips
man.

JIM
It's not acid John, it's peyote.
It's a bonding ceremony. It's got to
be more... more... more...

JOHN
I'm into TM man. I promised my guru...

PAM
I want to! I want to! I'm ready.
Let's go to the desert... do the
peyote, the good peyote.

JIM
(to girl in line)
Who's on now?

GIRL 1
(withering look, very
hip)
"Love".

JIM
Yeah, Arthur Lee's cool.

GIRL 1
They're the best... better'n the
Beatles.

JIM
You mean the Marx Brothers of music,
we could blow 'em away.

The GIRLS looking at each other like who is this jerk.

GIRL 2
And who are you?

JIM
The Doors... We're up the street at
the Fog.

Laughter from the GIRLS.

GIRL 1
(contempt)
The Doors. I heard of you. That's
the dumbest name. I wouldn't go to
the Fog if you paid me.

JIM
Oh yeah what would you do for money?

PAM
Let's go Jim, come on.

Meanwhile DENSMORE is hitting up on GIRL 2.

JOHN
So you don't have a phone number?
What do you mean you don't have a
phone number?

GIRL 2
I don't have a phone number. So give
me your number then.

JOHN
I don't have a phone.

Robbie is doing his imitation of a shrimp for ANOTHER GIRL
who's laughing.

GIRL 1
(intrigued, to Jim)
Well, would you leave my name at the
door?

JIM
Well I don't know. What's your name?

GIRL 1
Caprice.

JIM
Caprice? That's the dumbest name I
ever heard.

A look between Jim and Caprice. Pamela pulling Jim away,
gives the girl a look.

JIM
Hey! I am the Lizard king. I can do
Anything! Raise your hands if you
understand! Alive, any of you alive --
let's take a poll -- how many of you
know you're really alive!!

The crowd giggles. Jim climbs a pole, yells.

JIM
No one? Raise your hands c'mon man...
let's go.

On the crowd. A few raise their hands, smile.

We IRIS in on the Doors suddenly -- a strange sound -- REVERSE
IRIS on Jim -- feeling it now. The peyote.

JIM's POV -- Pam irising out. This strange sound in his ears --
a rattle of an Indian gourd, similar to what we heard in the
car in Arizona when Jim was a boy. Now a distant Indian drum
beating. The beginning strains of THE END dribble in.

EXT. DESERT - DAY

A dented RED CHEVROLET fishtails on a dry mudflat, whipping
up dustdevils.

They're all LAUGHING (strange noise) -- in a circle somewhere
on the edge of a precipice in deep arroyos and magnificent
rocks and cacti...

A football huddle of faces - RAY, JOHN, ROBBIE, JIM -- the
four DOORS... laughing with the first mad impulse of the
peyote.

PAM is vomiting her brains out as DOROTHY tries to comfort
her on the edge of a cliff... Jim panthers up the dune.

JIM
Everybody having a good time?

They hug. She throws up again.

JIM
...awright, pretty good, it gets
better.

Jim holds his head. Feels the ride.

JIM
WOA!! It's fast.

JUMP CUTS: Jim and Pam are touching each other. Face. Shadows.
Sand falls from Pam's hand. Jim turns to hawk at a bird.
"Hawk! Hawk!" Then Pam is dancing alone on the dune.

Abruptly Jim is back in the circle with the Doors in a sense
torn between them and Pam. EXTREME CLOSEUPS of their faces,
their eyes, the tensions of the trip tearing apart their
teeth as they go from the laughing to the dangerous part.

JIM
When the serpent appears, his head
is ten feet long and five feet wide.
He has one red eye and one green
eye. He's deadly and he's seven miles
long. As he moves -- on his scales
is written all the history of the
world, all people, all actions, all
of us our little pictures on the
scales, God it's big! -- and it's
eating as it moves all the time,
devouring, digesting consciousness,
power, a monster of energy!

John shutters -- as does Robbie and Ray. Jim seems possessed.

JIM
We must kiss the snake on the tongue,
if it senses our fear, it will eat
us instantly. But if we kiss it
without fear, the snake will take us
through the garden and out the gate.
To our freedom -we must ride this
snake. To the end of time.

Pause. He has instilled a flux of fear in the group.

JOHN
I think I'm fucked up. I'm not
thinking right.

JIM
You're fucked up John. Go with it,
confusion is the sound of creation.

JOHN
You should see your eyes right now,
you're death. Look at your eyes --
you're crazy man, you look crazy.
You scare me.

JIM
No no no John John. God is crazy
too. God is part insane as well as
sane. Not in control all the time.
Dionysus was the God of the wine. He
made ecstasy but he also made madness.
Madness is all right. That's what
you want, isn't it, isn't it? Where's
that joint?

ROBBIE
(crying)
I get scared thinking of all the
choices inside. I could go. I could
stay. I can live anywhere. I could
die now if I wanted. It's limitless
choice... and no one cares.

JIM
Die Robbie.

JOHN
What the fuck!

PAM
(wandering in)
I don't know what I am. I'm on the
cusp of Sagittarius and Capricorn.
Sagittarius is wild and Capricorn
domestic and safe, so I don't know
which one to be.

Jim looking at her, smiles.

JIM
I love you.

DOROTHY
(into the same lens)
Oh my God, the light, it's so
beautiful Ray. Can you see it...
it's all one... honey?

Ray has his head buried in his hands.

RAY
I'm in pain man. I want something
from the peyote. I feel the universe
functioning perfectly but I'm still
perfectly locked inside myself.
Instead of Oneness, I feel total
Isolation. Aloneness. Fear... Pain...
Jim, all I feel is pain.

JIM
Pain makes me feel more alive Ray.
Pain is meant to wake us up. People
try to hide their pain but they're
wrong.

JOHN
I feel Lust. I want to fuck everything
I can, and I know it will never be
enough.

JIM
(whispers)
Pam wants you.
(normal)
You're a good Catholic John, you
want it so you can feel guilty about
it... Fuck death away John.

ROBBIE
I feel Fear... so bad I just numb
out all my feelings. I'm afraid of
my father, I'm afraid of Yahweh... I
wish I could play my guitar.

JIM
Maybe you should kill your father
Robbie. He tried to kill you. Kill
him!

ROBBIE
I'm so fucking scared.

JIM
But you're Alive! It's beautiful!
Fear, pain, lust, we've got to know
all our feelings before we can come
out the other side free men. Don't
feel ashamed of yourselves, don't
let society destroy your reality.
Our freedom's the only thing worth
dying for, it's the only thing worth
living for!

He takes Ray and Robbie's hands, his voice calming them,
reform the circle. John hesitant. Not all will enter the
gates at evening.

JOHN
(cold sweats)
I'm not gonna make it man. I'm scared
Jim, I'm still scared. Blindness is
coming on.

JIM
Then use us John, use our strength,
it's us four now, a tribe of warriors,
everything we have comes from the
same source, the great Creator of
Being. Trust him, trust us. Ride the
snake. . . I promise you I will be
with you till the end of time.

Pulling John into the circle, bonding, their four heads sunk
to the desert floor, Jim making wild Indian sounds, deep-
throated "shoooh... shoooh"... now humming a song from the
desert.

JIM
My wild love went riding... mmmmmm.
She rode all the day. She ride to
the devil. And ask for him to pay...
shooo shoooo

The OTHERS join in his chant, the four rising and falling
like a collective breath.

JIM
(ad lib)
...she went to the desert she went
to the sea Joseph we did see...

Suddenly Jim breaks and rises out of the circle. Ray, Robbie,
John, all looking at him. The same need. Pamela, the
desperation of her eyes.

JIM
(to himself)
...I'm lying to you. I am scared.

He goes, his boots in the sand.

JOHN
Jim, where are you going.

JIM
(looking back)
I'll be back. I gotta go alone.

Pamela calling from another dune, far away.

PAM
Jim! Jim... come here, dance... don't
go away.

His POV -- of her, receding. She screams for him. He's in
pain. Cannot help her.

A BIRD of prey in the sky.

Jim moving across a lunar landscape. SPECIAL EFFECT: The sun
is black like night or else white in a black sky. Voices in
the distance. "Jim, where are you going?" A mother's voice,
a father's voice.

DOORS SONG
Can you picture what will be
So limitless and free
Desperately in need of some stranger's hand in a desperate
land
Lost in a Roman wilderness of pain and all the children are
insane: waiting for the summer rain

FLASHBACKS

INT. CAR - MOVING - DESERT

JIM, 4, in the back of a car in the desert -- looking back...

At the overturned truck, the bodies in the road... at the
older Indian looking at him... finally at the dying Indian...
his eyes.

INT. MORRISON HOME - DAY

Somewhere. The child alone. On the living room floor. Drawing
his sketches in a book. MOM's feet moving past -- then DAD'S
feet. We may sense a subtle shift in mood when the parents
come in -- from the boy's eyes which never leave the sketch
he is drawing.

EXT. DESERT - DAY

An OLD WOMAN is beckoning to him from an opening in the face
of the mountain... then she's gone.

JIM bounds towards the crevice.

INT. ROCK PALACE - DAY

He is in an isolated cathedral of rocks. The CRONE, muttering,
leaving through another crevice. Suddenly a MOUNTAIN LION is
visible, stretched hugely across a rock. It growls
ferociously, upset, and suddenly shoots out the back of the
cave. Silence.

Jim, thunderstruck, gaping. A gallery of ancient INDIAN
PETROGLYPHS surround him on all sides. Curious, oblong
figures, buffalo, sacred deer and bear, creatures of the
hunt; hunters and their weapons, rain clouds, masked deities
proclaiming the answers to the Mysteries, the story of
Creation.

Camera weaving up to see one of the faces of the deities --
staring at him from the wall -- an eagle's face...

DOORS SONG
There's danger on the edge of town
Ride the King's highway
Weird scenes inside the gold mine
Ride the King's highway west, baby

The sound of a rattle -- "shichishichi" -- he realizes he's
being watched. By what? He whips his eyes everywhere. A large
LIZARD perches on a boulder assesses him calmly, tatters of
a former skin clinging to its throat, spits a forked tongue
and drills its black pearly eyes into his skull... Now the
sound of the Bull-Roarer, whipping the air, announcing the
appearance of the shaman.

Jim's struck with an overwhelming sense of... awe... ancient
mysteries. He turns. The lizard is looking at him.

The GHOST of the DEAD INDIAN is also looking at him. We are
looking at JIM from its point of view -- a blur of light,
some headdress, a sense of skins... music drops back, no
lyrics... the voice is old, familiar, possible Spanish descent
dialect or huararchi.

INDIAN GHOST VOICE
...you are a prince among white men,
yet you are a warrior among us. You
are ready now. Go out "walk with the
pain of the world, travel to the end
of the wind" -- and change it for
all men as you were born to do.

The voice, the pretense, -- the glow too quickly fades --
leaving Jim so alone, not sure what he has heard, yet he
knows he has heard, and he knows he has seen -- and once you
have seen, it will never be the same again. His eyes.

EXT. CAVE - DAY

JIM exits the cave.

MATCH CUT TO:

INT. WHISKY A GO GO - NIGHT

EXTREME CLOSE on JIM'S EYES as he continues with THE END.

DOORS SONG
Ride the snake
Ride the snake, to the lake
The ancient lake
The snake is long, seven miles
Ride the snake
He's old, and his skin is cold

Camera pulling out from his eyes. There's something different
tonight. Something in the air. His eyes are open, he's facing
outward, gripping the mike for his life, hair falling in his
face, dripping sweat, we sense all his soul concentrated in
what he has to say.

Cliques of GROUPIES have staked claims at the foot of the
stage, eyes fucking him as he writhes, spreading his legs.
Every twitch, every moment he sucks out the tension on the
musical interludes generates a whip of a reaction in his
audience.

Nobody is moving in the club. The DANCERS are still, the GO
GO GIRLS in their white plastic boots and dresses hang
motionless in their gilded cages. Even the WAITRESSES have
stopped, frozen with their trays, denying something is going
to happen.

PAMELA, DOROTHY... JERRY from the Fog, also the manager of
this place, watches from the balcony, shaking his head,
doesn't understand. Panning to two RECORD TYPES with him --
JAC HOLZMAN, distinguished six footer, suit, and PAUL
ROTHCHILD, funky, pigtailed, ex-con, early 30s.

JIM & DOORS
The west is best (2)
Get here and we'll do the rest
The blue bus is calling us (2)
Driver where you taking us?

The band has come together fully now. ROBBIE'S fingers sliding
across the trembling strings, staring at the ceiling,
wandering around the darkened portions of stage left, he
feels Jim -- echoes him back with his flamenco-blues guitar.

JOHN on drums, reading Jim's moods, throws in the spontaneous
and violent riffs that keep it savage. He literally tortures
Jim's ears with his drums.

And RAY, concentrated with his nodding head like a big
flamingo over his keyboard, mixing it up, throwing curves,
yet also -- and more delicately -- torturing Jim with the
messianic organ sounds that shriek in his ears. There is
something of Merlin in Ray -- the alchemist knowing how to
play Jim.

And JIM -- "that sneaky silent lithe flowing flexing animal" --
ready at last to share both his body and his soul with the
world, to live out the words of the Indian prophet... to
lead.

JIM
The killer awoke before dawn
He put his boots on
He took a face from the ancient
gallery
And he walked on down the hall

Ray looks over up from his board, catches Robby with a 'what's
this?' look... They go with it, improvising...

Jim clutching the mike tighter, seeking solace in its arms;
it all hangs in the air as if he doesn't have any idea what
he's going to say next.

JIM
He went to the room where his sister
lived
And he paid a visit to his brother
And then he went on down the hall...

Pamela sensing something is coming... the AUDIENCE... Jerry...
the go-go dancers...

JIM
And he came to a door, And he looked
inside "Father?" "Yes, son?" "I want
to kill you".

FLASH -- A FATHER'S FACE, any face, older, any man...

JIM
Mother... I want to...

FLASH -- A MOTHER'S FACE, any face, older, a woman

JIM
AAAAAAAGGGGGGGHHHHHHH
YOOOOOUUUUUUUUUU!!!!! FUCK YOU ALL
NIGHT!

The SCREAMS primal, pure Jim -- Indian savagery ripped from
the depths of his soul, of his pain -- bouncing off the
walls...

As the AUDIENCE gasps, shocked, stunned...

As the guitar hits a high, horrid reverb, JIM in slightly
SLOW MOTION suddenly tightens his backbone as if electrocuted
and shoots violently backwards, hitting the floor like a
puppet cut from his string -- we sense Jim himself has crossed
a barrier now, gone into yet another stage of his performance,
a stage from which he can never return. Like the gunfighter
who has killed his first man.

RAY sees it instantly where it's going, hits the organ! Robbie
and John follow. the instruments EXPLODE all at once trying
to bury Jim in his primal unmistakeable scream.

The CLUB in shock. Tribal taboo broken in one instant. Jerry
exploding off the balcony toward the stage...

Pamela, extremely moved and impressed, and Dorothy... the go-
go girls, as jaded as they come, are stunned tension... the
groupies love it.

Jim has jumped up now, dancing an Indian war dance around
the mike.

JIM
Come on baby take a chance with us
(X3)
And meet me in the back of the blue
bus
Doona blue rog onna blue bus
Doona blue yeah!
Come on yeah!

INT. BACKSTAGE WHISKY HALLWAY - THAT NIGHT

JIM is being muscled out the door by JERRY, livid.

JERRY
NOBODY'S GONNA FUCK THEIR MOTHER ON
MY STAGE! YOU'RE OUTTA HERE. You
don't ever come back to play, you
don't ever come back to drink --
You're DEAD ON THE STRIP!

JIM
(ranting back at him)
Kill the father, fuck the mother,
kill the father, fuck the mother --
that's what I'm into! That's what
I'm into!

Jerry pinning Jim to the wall,

JERRY
You -- MORRISON! You're fucking filthy
twisted perverse punk, get back to
your fucking sewer!!

JIM
(calmly smiling)
You have the face of a pig man.

Lost in the melee, RAY and JOHN springing Jim back from likely
death

RAY
JERRY JERRY... He was talking about
Oedipus! GREEK TRAGEDY!! It's ART!!

JERRY
FUCK ART!! GET THE FUCK ART OUT!!!

Pushing, shoving, scrambling. Past a long-haired JOURNALIST
yelling into a payphone.

JOURNALIST
NEVER SEEN ANYTHING LIKE THE DOORS --
NEVER!! GET A PHOTOGRAPHER DOWN HERE.
"ROLLING STONE'S GOTTA SEE THIS!!

As they rumble by him, all yelling at once. Into the street.

EXT. ALLEY & STAIRCASE OUTSIDE WHISKY - THAT NIGHT

The DOORS go sailing out, followed by one of their drums,
JOHN and ROBBIE restraining Jim from going back in.

JIM
TAKE A LONG LOOK OLD MAN. WE ARE THE
FUTURE. WE ARE THINGS TO COME.

JERRY
FUCK YOU... YOU'RE FUCKING DEAD!

Wanting to come after Jim but restrained now by the RECORD
MOGULS, HOLZMAN and ROTHCHILD.

PAUL
Come on Jerry, cool it, cool it...
he's a kid, it's a song about dying,
changing...

JAC HOLZMAN pushing past to Ray. Pamela separating Jim
visually from Jerry.

JOHN
(to RAY and ROBBIE)
We'll never work again man. The Mafia
controls all these clubs.

HOLZMAN
(to Ray and Robbie)
Quite a night! Hi, I'm Jac Holzman.
I own Elektra Records.

RAY
(knows the name)
Oh sure, hi.

Holzman pauses, a dramatic presence, six foot two, impeccably
dressed, he knows the weight of his words.

HOLZMAN
Listen... I think if you could just
put what you did in there on record,
we could really have something...
and we could make a lot of money...

It hangs there. Impossible words.

RAY
Yeah?

John and Robbie sharing looks.

HOLZMAN
(pointing to ROTHCHILD
coming up)
Yeah... and Rothchild here was born
to be your producer.

ROBBIE
(recognizing Paul)
Hey, the guy that did Butterfield!

PAUL
Bertold Brecht, cabaret and rock.
Give me a fucking break. You guys
are amazing! Let's go make a record.

JIM
(to Ray, pointing
back at Jerry)
Hey, is that asshole gonna pay us?

HOLZMAN
(amused)
Why don't you go inside and ask him
Jim?

Strains of LIGHT MY FIRE cross the cut.

INT. SUNSET SOUND RECORDING STUDIO - DAY (1966)

Four-track TAPE SYSTEM is rolling.

DOORS SONG
You know that it would be untrue
You know that I would be a liar
If I was to say to you
Girl, we couldn't get much higher

Camera moving fast thru the control room, past the ENGINEER
(BRUCE BOTNICK), taciturn, 20's, the PRODUCER (PAUL ROTHCHILD)
in pig heaven, and the owner JAC HOLZMAN in his blue suit
watching.

PAUL
Hey Bruce, you feel it?

BRUCE
I'm having big fun.

PAUL
(to Jac)
I got goosebumps Jac. This is history
going down here. An album of killer
music in six days... six days...
unreal!

Camera moving fast past a smiling PAM watching, out to the
DOORS on the floor, jamming... on to JIM in the vocal booth,
headphone to his ears.

JIM
Come on baby, LIGHT MY FIIIRRRREEEE!!!

The song, now fully -- orchestrated, rolling on over the
following MONTAGE:

JIM
(after song)
Pretty good! Pretty neat!

EXT. GOLDEN GATE PARK - SAN FRANCISCO (DOCUMENTARY FOOTAGE) -
DAY (1967)

LIGHT MY FIRE continues.

DOCUMENTARY FOOTAGE of the "Human Be-In", the "Summer of
Love" -- swarming FLOWER CHILDREN, WAR PROTESTORS.

A staged 16mm. grainy shot of JIM and PAMELA, RAY and DOROTHY,
JOHN, ROBBIE and their TWO NEW GIRLFRIENDS wandering thru
the CROWD sharing the spirit. Pam and Jim fool around --
laughing -- tickling each other for the home movie camera
shot by Ray... Pam is goofy, makes funny faces, teases him
running a flower under his nose, thru his hair, then trips
him. He chases her across the lawn.

INT. FILLMORE WEST STAGE - SAN FRANCISCO - NIGHT (1967)

The CROWD is "beautiful" -- candles, incense sticks, flowers,
vibes of peace and love. The instrumental of "Light My Fire"
is playing, but only three DOORS are on stage till Jim comes
swinging across on a rope like tarzan all the way across the
stage -- then drops down, rebounds lithely and hits the mike.

JIM
(singing)
The time to hesitate is through
No time to wallow in the mire.

JIM swandives into the stoned crowd with the mike at the
instrumental section, a colored spotlight flecking him, GIRLS
kiss him. The guys want to be him, the girls want him -- and
he knows it, teasing and tantalizing them...

JIM
Try now we can only lose
And our love become a funeral pyre
Come on baby, light my fire
Try to set the night on
FIIIIIIIIIRE!!!!!

BODYGUARDS running in to pull him out as he's tossed, like a
limp god, over the heads of the crowd, rolling like a buoy
on a rocking sea, from hand to hand, Dionysus, devoured limb
from limb by the "little girls".

PAMELA watching from the side curtain.

ALABAMA SONG (WHISKY BAR) now kicks in with its comic,
Brechtian strain as we:

OMIT

Sequence omitted from original script.

EXT. AIRPORT TARMAC - DAY

Screaming FANS chase the DOORS to a commercial airplane,
scribbling autographs. One of the GIRLS smacking JIM on the
lips as he laughs, her cameras clicking. PAMELA shooting a
home movie of it, pushed aside by the crowd, rescued by ROBBIE
and the new young manager, BILL SIDDONS...

DOORS SONG
Oh show me the way to the next whisky bar
Oh don't ask why
Oh don't ask why

EXT. NEW YORK CITY SKYLINE (SEEN FROM PLANE) - DAY

The City as seen by:

INT. AIRPLANE - DAY

JIM'S face pressed to the window, PAMELA next to him hugging
each other.

JIM
(real close, hugging
her)
I don't mind dying in a plane crash,
a smile on my face.

PAMELA
(cutting his food)
As compared to what?

JIM
I just don't want to go out slow --
brain tumor, botulism. I want to
feel what it's like, cause death is
only going to happen to you once.

PAMELA
I don't want to die ever, what a
weird thing to say.

DOORS SONG
For if we don't find the next whisky bar
I tell you we must die
I tell you
I tell you
I tell you we must die

EXT. CBS - NEW YORK - NIGHT (SUMMER, 1967)

A LIMOUSINE pulling up in front of the Ed Sullivan Marquee.
The sidewalk is mobbed with FANS, mostly YOUNG GIRLS.

DOORS SONG
Oh moon of Alabama
We now must say goodbye
We've lost our good ol mama
We must have whiskey oh you know why

INT. LIMO - NIGHT

JIM looking out at the MOB with the other DOORS and PAMELA.
The look on his face is ironic.

His POV -- the YOUNG GIRLS' FACES, arms grasping at the
windows like tentacles of a poisonous hydra, their faces
deformed by SILENT SCREAMS (we hear faint strangled shrieks
below the song)... POLICE and SECURITY pressing them back,
linking arms to clear a path for the Doors.

DOORS SONG
Show me the way to the next little girl
Oh don't ask why
Oh don't ask why

The GIRLS crying hysterically as Jim lazily, leopardly, moves
across the CROWD, almost like Oswald waiting for the Ruby
bullet but with that sweet, pleasant smile on his face, dark
glasses concealing...

GIRLS
(faint)
Oh Jimmmmm, pleeeaaase look, I looove
youuuuu, Jimmmmmm, pleeeeeaase,
Jimmmmm, here, sign miiiine... take
a picture Jim?... Jim, Jim, oh please
look at me Jim!!

Their voices distorting. A GIRLCHILD squeezing thru the cordon
with the fatal bullet. In slightly SLOW MOTION, Jim seeing
her come... as she glues herself hip to hip, lip to lip with
Jim, her hands clawing at his leather pants. It takes TWO
COPS to peel her off. Pamela furious. Jim is gracious with
everyone, signs patiently, talks, kisses, shakes hands with
the boys, lets them touch his hair, his body, poses for a
picture, seems to like it.

DOORS SONG
For if we don't find the next little girl
I tell you we must die
I tell you
I tell you
I tell you we must die

INT. CBS BACKSTAGE - THAT EVENING

The nervous PRODUCER, HERB, leading "MR. SULLIVAN" thru the
corridor to the Doors' DRESSING ROOM past several "ACTS"
getting ready to go on... animals, tumblers, a soprano
wailing...

PRODUCER
Right this way Mr. Sullivan. They're
called "the Doors". They got the
number one single in the country --
"Light Your Fire".

SULLIVAN
"Light Your Fire"? Is that sooo?

PRODUCER
They look pretty grungy but we're...

INT. DOORS DRESSING ROOM - EVENING

Bedlam. MAKE-UP ARTISTS pancaking the faces of the DOORS --
the nightmare coming true. RAY in a white suit with too many
pinstripes. ROBBIE a spearmint turtleneck, beads, long
sideburns, JOHN in red velveteen head to foot with a tie-dye
splotch on the front of it. Their hair's being violated enough
by a nervous gay black HAIR DESIGNER to make them totally
self-conscious and nervous about their first live TV
appearance -- all except JIM who remains in his signature
black leather with the silver navajo belt and shiny spangles --
watching a portable TV... A GIRL leaving his side, crossing
Pamela. Eye contact between them speaks of Pamela's jealousy.

JOHN
(indignant)
You're gonna cut it!

HAIRDRESSER
(doing John)
No, I'm going to worship it. What
kind of shampoo are you using?

JOHN
The kind you get in hotels.

HAIRDRESSER
Pamper yourself sweetheart, you don't
want split ends, you're a celebrity
now.
(moving to Ray)
You have very serious-serious hair,
it needs to rebel. I'll give it a
tinge of something freaky.

RAY
I'd rather stay the same color.

HAIRDRESSER
Scaredy cat.

ROBBIE
What about me?

HAIRDRESSER
(a look)
Honey, we don't have enough time.

TELEVISION INSERT -- images of DETROIT burning, summer of
67.

TV NEWSMAN
...here in Detroit, 42 people dead,
more than 2000 injured... 1400
buildings burned, 5000 people have
just lost their homes as Detroit
joins more than 100 cities torn by
riots this hot summer!

On JIM, as they pancake him, reflective.

JIM
No wonder "Light My Fire's" number
one.

HAIRDRESSER
(to JIM)
What about you handsome?

JIM
(friendly)
The biggest mistakes in my life have
been haircuts.

PAM
Don't wash it. Don't set it. He likes
it the way it is...

HAIRDRESSER
(backing off)
All right, be mean...

Commotion from the doorway as the PRODUCER leads the lock-
jawed MR. SULLIVAN in with everyone bowing and scraping to
the Pope.

PRODUCER
Boys -- meet Mr. Sullivan

Mr. Sullivan waves from the doorway.

SULLIVAN
Hi boys, heard your song "Light That
Fire"
(Herb corrects)
...think you're great... good luck
out there.

DOORS
(ad lib)
Oh thanks Mr. Sullivan.

PRODUCER
(moving alongside Ray)
Well the guys at Network have told
us they have a small problem with
the lyrics "girl we couldn't get
much higher". You can't say "higher"
on network so they asked if... you
could say, "girl we can't get much
better"... can you dig that?

A look from the guys. Jim sullen. Tension in the air. Mr.
Sullivan waiting.

JIM
How 'bout, "girl you couldn't bite
my wire".

Pause. The producer puzzled a beat. It doesn't go down.

PRODUCER
I don't think Standards and Practices
would...

Sullivan exiting, waving at no one in particular like Nixon
would.

SULLIVAN
Look, you boys don't forget to smile
now. Don't be so sullen out there...

JIM
Uh well, we're kind of a sullen group,
Ed.

SIDDONS reassuring the Producer.

SIDDONS
We'll work it out Herb, promise.
Give me five.

PRODUCER
(not totally convinced,
exiting)
Groovy! Uh you boys should know Mr.
Sullivan is considering you boys for
four more shows. You dig?

Pause.

JOHN
Well?

JIM
What -- are we the Beatles now John?

RAY
(laughs)
It's only a word man. The Stones
changed...

JIM
Hey Ray, why don't you change your
name to Sid or Irving Manzarek or
something... it's only a word y'know.

ROBBIE
It's my words. I don't care, let's
just jam.

Ray's seething tension. Younger brother starting to get out
of hand.

INT. STUDIO STAGE - THAT NIGHT

SULLIVAN stiffly introducing them.

SULLIVAN
Now here on our stage direct from
Los Angeles, California, ladies and
gentlemen, The Doors!

The lights come up on the DOORS in their ultimate nightmare --
each Door appearing consecutively in a lightspot as Jim sings
the ubiquitous "Light My Fire", trapped in this Elvis Presley --
Vegas act, he looks like he couldn't care less. DOORS hang
suspended everywhere on the set -- their name spelled out in
big block standup letters.

Jim has a hard-on in his pants, barely concealed by his tight
leathers.

PRODUCER
(in control booth)
What's that?... oh Jesus!... get off
it!! Where's he going?

Jim misses his marks deliberately, the camera having a hard
time following him.

JIM & DOORS
You know that it would be untrue
You know that I would be a liar
If I was to say to you
Girl, we couldn't get much higher
Come on baby light my fire

INT. CONTROL BOOTH (SIMULTANEOUS) - THAT NIGHT

The PRODUCERS freaking out.

PRODUCER
(hyperventilating)
He said it! He said it! On National
TV You can't do that! You can't do
that!!! You blew it you little shit!
You'll never play Ed Sullivan again.

Jim on the monitors, singing through to his freedom, falls
on the floor flat, the camera missing him completely.

JIM
Come on baby, light my fire
Try to set the night on FIIIIRRRRRE!

INT. HOTEL BEDROOM -- NEW YORK - NIGHT

OVERHEAD ANGLE -- JIM lies there in a sweat. PAMELA pulls
off him, naked, frustrated, trying to rouse him.

PAM
(tender)
What can I do, what do you want me
to do?... Jim?

JIM
I don't know... I guess I should see
a doctor or something... maybe I
should go to someone of the straight
Jungian philosophy.

PAM
It happens to other guys too...

Jim, quietly pissed, reaches for the whiskey bottle at the
side of the bed.

JIM
It's so scary up there. To be adored.
Isn't that irony? Teenage death girls
want my dick -- a mere clown -- not
my words. I'll never wake up in a
good mood again... Lament for my
cock, a tongue of knowledge deep in
the feathered night, gives life,
soar and crucify, I seek to know
you...

PAM
It's not so complicated Jim, it's
just sex, y'know.

JIM
You should marry an insurance
salesman.

PAM
It's the hours man, the pressure,
everything's like your last
performance, you're setting yourself
up.

JIM
We weren't built to last.

PAM
Aren't you doing this for you, because
you're a poet, not a rock star. Ed
Sullivan's not a place for you.

JIM
You really know what I am Pam? You
know what poetry is? Where is the
feast they promised us? Where is the
wine -- the new wine -- dying on the
vine?

PAM
What are you saying!

JIM
Y'see -- I lied to you. I really
love Fame.

PAM
(Here we go)
Why are you doing this to me?

JIM
(drinks)
'Cause you're in the room.

She tries to take the bottle away. He resists. They struggle.
It becomes a fight.

PAM
And this is gonna help! It's probably
the cause. 'Least put some soul in
your success asshole!

JIM
Maybe you're the cause!

PAM
Right.

JIM
I mean I don't have this problem
with anybody else.

PAM
(getting the bottle)
Give it to me!!!

JIM
(getting it back)
No!!!!! Mommy!!!

PAM
(gives up, tries to
exit)
Fuck you man I'm outta here.

He grabs her. They lurch, smashing the lamp. WILD CHILD song
kicking in.

JIM
(excited now)
Get mad! Yeahhh! Love my girl! Yeah,
go fuck the other guys. How many
white guys have you fucked Pam? 10,
20? Black guys what? You like Chinese
dicks? Mongolian penis? 30?

PAM
(fighting)
...how many dogs have you fucked!
You don't say No to anybody! Drugs,
dogs, uglies, you'd fuck a doorknob
with butter on it!

JIM
How could I do that

PAM
(shouting top of her
lungs)
You're the first one who couldn't
make it with me anyway! You're the
only limp dick in the lot!!!

Camera running at them from the end of the room. JIM laughs
manically as they roll off the bed into a wall. Kicking,
hitting hard.

DOORS SONG
Wild Child full of grace
Savior of the human race
Your cool face
Natural child, terrible child
Not your mother or your father's child
Your own child, screaming wild

JIM
HA HA HA!! WILL YOU DIE FOR ME!

PAM
NO! WILL YOU DIE FOR ME!!

JIM
I'D DIE FOR ANYBODY.

PAM
WHAT ABOUT ME! WHAT ABOUT ME!

JIM
CUNT CUNT CUNT.

PAM
LIAR LIAR LIAR. YOU PROMISED. YOU
PROMISED.

JIM
I'M SORRY I'M SORRY I'M SORRY.

A VOICE across the wall joining in, banging.

VOICE
SHADDUP WILLYA. I'M TRYING TO
SLEEP!!!!

JIM
THEN MOVE TO MIAMI YOU SLAVE!!!

More nagging. By this time the fight has expired of its own
volition.

JIM
(quietly)
You were saying?

They giggle, start to laugh. Then they cuddle on the floor,
in the corner, in this semi-lit New York hotel room.

JIM
(low)
...will you die for me, Pam, a clown,
a despicable clown?... a mere
despicable clown?

PAM
Yes yes yes.

JIM
...I need a home. A place to hide.

PAM
...with me. Yes... yes...

JIM
(mumbling)
...how could we make a home?... where
there's sanctuary?

PAM
...yes, yes, yes.

He's hard now. She's guiding him inside her.

JIM
...we're in Africa, we're just
animals... I wanna stay inside you
all night baby... let's fuck death
away, now fuck death away...

PAM
...yes...

INT. PRESS CONFERENCE - HOTEL SUITE NEW YORK - DAY

Camera moving in past the buffet, champagne, flowers in the
hotel suite overlooking CENTRAL PARK... to the DOORS in
armchairs surrounded by an informal group of a DOZEN
JOURNALISTS and PRESS PHOTOGRAPHERS... JIM behind dark shades
drinking long Hawaiian fruit punches, decked out in snakeskin.

JOURNALIST 1
(stiff, Times type)
What are your songs about Mr.
Morrison?

TIME DISSOLVES over the questions and answers. A vaguely
dreamy quality.

JIM
Uh love death travel... revolt. We
all write the songs, we're interested
in anything about disorder, chaos,
especially activity which seems to
have no meaning... I think when you
make peace with authority, you become
authority.

JOURNALIST 1
Can you define that a little more?

JIM
Yeah you can call us erotic
politicians I guess.

DISSOLVING OVER:

JOURNALIST 2
Do you really consider yourself a
shaman Mr. Morrison?

DISSOLVING OVER:

JIM
...a scapegoat maybe -- I take on
the audiences' fantasies, obeying
their impulses. When the impulses
are destructive, I'm destructive.
It's kinda like sucking the puss out
of a rattlesnake, something like
that.

JOURNALIST 1
(smiling)
...like a medicine man or witch
doctor?

RAY
(cuts in)
Jim said to me once, the history of
rock and roll's like Greek drama or
caveman stories. The audience comes
to see ancient rituals in ancient
caves. Their souls in jeopardy.
They're not watching any longer,
they're participating -- and
everything's in play, your life,
your death...

JOURNALIST 1
(glib)
Is that why they scream so much?

Gentle laughter. The JOURNALISTS don't get it... panning
their looks. The backbeat of CRYSTAL SHIP, dreamy hazy, Warhol-
like interview floating over the room like a giant mushroom
cloud.

DISSOLVING TO:

JOURNALIST 3
(more down to earth)
Mr. Morrison, how do you feel about
being called the "ultimate barbie
doll".

On Jim -- a beat. A sickly smile spreads.

JIM
I guess when you say something like
that, it's a shortcut to thinking.

JOURNALIST 3
Then do you "think" about the dreadful
reviews your new poetry book has
gotten?

Holding up a copy of "The Lords and New Creatures".

JIM
(softly)
I guess they didn't understand.

JOURNALIST 3
(having scored)
And it's true you financed it's
publication?

Jim motions him over, whispers something at SIDDONS who goes
to fetch a pair of scissors.

RAY
(angry)
Have you bothered to read the poetry
ma'm? You keep denying that anything
good can come from L.A., I mean isn't
that kind of a provincial attitude?
That Bob Dylan's the only poet cause
he's from the East Coast, but you
won't even look past Jim's goddamn
looks at the words man!

JIM
(embarrassed)
Hey c'mon Ray, hate should be allowed.

JOURNALIST 1
...but what really are your songs
about Mr. Morrison? You preach,
"saving the planet", "making a new
age" but how does drinking, taking
drugs, this boozy sort of apocalyptic
stance at the world influence young
people in a positive way?

JIM
I like that -- "boozy apocalyptic" --
you're a word man, but how does your
newspaper influence young people to
think about Vietnam? Who's sending
the soldiers over there to die? The
establishment -- right? Your newspaper --
right? That seems to me a lot more
dangerous than the stuff we do.

DISSOLVING OVER:

JOURNALIST 3
Do you believe in drugs Mr. Morrison?

SIDDONS comes back in, hands Jim a pair of scissors.

JIM
(graciously disdainful)
Did you know Nietzsche said, "all
good consciousness, all evidence of
truth comes only from the senses"?
Hey you wanna arm wrestle? Come on,
you look pretty tough today. C'mon,
I'll take you all on.

JOURNALIST 3
(ignoring his smile)
And alcohol? Is that considered part
of the shaman's wisdom?

JIM
Part of the clown's wisdom -- it's
kinda the American way. You know we
spend more on alcohol and tobacco
than on education.

DOUBLE IMAGES on the DISSOLVES.

JOURNALIST 3
Are you by any chance in a trance
now Mr. Morrison?

JIM
Do you hurt?

JOURNALIST 3
What?

JIM
What hurts you the most?

He cuts his hair with the scissors. A commotion.

JOURNALIST 3
What are you doing?

DISSOLVING OVER:

JIM
Uh... got tired of the barbie doll
look. It hurt.

JOURNALIST 3
Are you serious?

JIM
(cutting hair blindly)
About? Y'know when people are joking,
I find they are dead serious and
when they're dead serious, I find
them funny.

They're amazed. The point is made however -- visibly. The
anger in his action is so extreme yet so contained -- the
cynosure of all eyes as always. Eyes shooting back at
JOURNALIST 3... JOURNALIST 4 cuts in from the back of the
room altering the mood.

JOURNALIST 4
What do your parents think about
what you are doing?

JIM
(pause)
Actually, I don't really remember
being born. It musta happened during
one of my blackouts.

Laughter. JOURNALIST 4 with dark hair and demeanor, gypsy-
like jewelry on her arm and avant garde clothing, large
glasses, is probably a rock magazine writer but seems to
like Jim and his work.

JOURNALIST 4
But they must've expressed some
feeling?

JIM
(pause)
Well, to be honest they're not living
anymore so I don't like to talk about
that.

Flashbulbs hitting his face at that moment.

JOURNALIST 4
Could you at least tell us how they
died?

Jim puts the scissors down, going to a low mysterious voice.

JIM
Oh, it was a... horrible car crash...
in the desert in the fifties,
Arizona... ran right into a truckload
of Indians... Navajos, they were
lying out on the road, all bleeding,
and I was with my Grandma and Grandad,
we were banged up and all... and I
was looking at my Dad and he was
lying there... but his throat was
severed and there was air coming
out.

He puts the room in a hush. He has mesmerized them and they're
not sure whether to believe it or not.

JOURNALIST 4
I'm sorry.

JOURNALIST 2
I have the feeling I'm being put on.

Jim rises, staggers slightly as he makes his way to the bar
on the way out of the room, smiles right at her, ignoring
everybody else in the room.

JIM
Y'all believe what you want to
believe, you will anyway... but it
does kinda show you what excites
people?
(looking directly at
her)
Fear, pity, horror -- all those good
things that count. It's sorta I guess
like being on the edge of an orgasm,
y'know... that mystery just before
you come. When? If? Should I? Will
you die for me, eat me, this way,
the end...

He goes. The room in silence, embarrassed, nervous titters
looking at Journalist 4 who flushes deeply as we cut to:

INT. PATRICIA'S SOHO LOFT - THAT DAY (RAIN)

Rain, rain, rain... pelting the large windows as we glide to
JIM fucking JOURNALIST 4 (PATRICIA KENNEALY) madly in the
twisted sheets...

He gives up, exhausted. The SONG CRYSTAL SHIP backbeats the
scene...

He wanders around her place. Her place is crammed with books
and intellectualabilia, skulls, candles, globes of the world,
plants. She puts her glasses back on.

PATRICIA
You want to do some more cocaine?
It'll loosen you up.

JIM
Great! A new thing.

As she goes to a bowl of cocaine, laid alongside a bottle of
champagne and a basketful of items all catered by Jim. He's
at her bookcase, thumbing through an ancient manuscript.

JIM
Wow how old is this?

INSERT -- the DRAWINGS in the book pertain to Witchcraft.

PATRICIA
(snorting)
14th Century. I practice the Craft.

JIM
The Craft?

PATRICIA
I'm a witch
(smiles)
A white one.

JIM
(impressed)
Wow! You Patricia? Who would've
guessed?

Ironic of course when you look at her long dark locks and
demeanor. She looks back at him, challenging.

PATRICIA
The Kennealy's were Celtic cheiftains
and pre-Christian shamans when your
Druid ancestors the Morrisons were a
minor Scottish clan founded by a
bastard son of the king of Norway.

JIM reappraising her. Her eye contact is very direct.

PATRICIA
It's a religion, witchcraft. Witches
are the protectors of the seasons,
the harvests, goddesses of the grain.
And when crossed, destroyers.

Jim waits. Something in the feeling of the room has shifted.
The sound of her razor chopping coke. He snorts -- the first
time.

PATRICIA
You ever try drinking blood?

JIM
What?

PATRICIA
It works you know. You drink blood
the right time of the moon... they
used to dance in the forests naked.
I think that's what offended the
Puritans and led to the Burnings.
They were a sexual threat to their
male order like the Bacchae -- five
days a year for Dionysus, they used
to wander the hills in ancient Greece,
the first witches, clans of wild
women fucking, looting, eating animals
raw, the wine in their blood running
hot -- looking for Dionysus... to
tear him to pieces -- isn't that
wild?

Jim is down on his knees crawling around her. She is crawling
back.

JIM
(hooked)
Where do you get the blood?

Patricia laughs.

SUPERIMPOSITION TO:

PATRICIA drawing blood from her arm -- wipes it on his mouth.
Some of it spills out, tamping the white powder with red
stains. Jim watching enthralled, coked out. She hands him
the jewelled Moroccan dagger.

PATRICIA
Blood is the rose of mysterious union,
symbol of potency... now you.

JIM
No... I don't like... cutting myself.

PATRICIA
(stern)
Don't be such a child! If I do it,
you have to do it.

He extends his arm. The look between them. He closes his
eyes like a little boy. She makes the cut.

DOORS SONG
Before you slip into unconsciousness
I'd like to have another kiss
Another flashing chance at bliss
Another kiss, another kiss

SUPERIMPOSITIONS:

Candles, incense burn. As Jim and Patricia dance in the loft
naked to music, drinking champagne.

JUMP CUT: He is chasing her with one of her goat horns between
his legs. They wrestle, yell, lusty bacchanale.

SUPERIMPOSITIONS TO:

They're fucking madly on the wooden floor of the loft, bathed
in blood and white powder all over the place, rain pelting
the windows, thunder, Orff's "Carmina Burana" cutting in
over the Doors' song.

PATRICIA
(sexy)
Come on rock god, fuck me, fuck me
good.

In slightly ape-like SLOW MOTION, he's wildly thrusting at
her like a stallion, then reaches down, yanks out her
diaphragm -- holds it to her eyes briefly and throws it across
the room into the fireplace.

JIM
(lips out of sync)
I'm gonna burn you down.

PATRICIA
Come on...

Incants him to climax with CELTIC WORDS.

Jim is wild, reaching for the Moroccan dagger, holding it to
her face as he continues to pump.

PATRICIA
Cut me! Cut me go on!

JIM
(knife to her cheek)
Nobody'd ever look at you again --
'cept me. I'd scar you forever.

PATRICIA
Yeah YEAH!

JIM
AWRIGHT! AWRIGHT!

PATRICIA
FUCK ME! FUCK ME!! GO ON FUCK ME!!!

DOORS SONG
The crystal ship is being filled
A thousand girls, a thousand thrills
A million ways to spend your time
When we get back I'll drop a line

The camera shooting up to the ceiling in a tilting dutch
angle as the world comes unglued. Jim yelling with release.

DISSOLVE TO:

INT. PHOTOGRAPHIC STUDIO - NEW YORK - ANOTHER DAY

GLORIA STAVERS, beautiful 30ish ex-Vogue model shooting Jim
for her layout. It's not going well. He's resisting, the
attitude negative to be photographed, compounded by the acid
it seems he's on.

GLORIA
Take off your shirt.

JIM
(cow noise)
Mooooooo!!!

GLORIA
(taking his shirt off)
You remind me of a Russian peasant.
I see you standing in a wheat field.
The pride, the arrogance. You love
to look at yourself don't you. You
love yourself.
(he's moving, getting
into it)
...good... big cat stalking...

JUMP CUTS -- photos going off... JIM starting to pout
narcistically, Jagger-like, for camera -- a bare-chested
pose, long lion's mane of hair streaming down to his
shoulders. She's shooting rapidly talking him thru the trip.
Her sentences falling on separate cuts of Jim. As we hear
the backbeat of PEOPLE ARE STRANGE.

GLORIA
...the camera is like a roulette
wheel Jim. It becomes whoever you
want it to be -- a woman you want to
seduce, a man you want to kill, a
mother you want to upset, a wife you
want to lie to or love, whatever you
want it to be, it is...

JIM
(pausey, paranoid)
Where are the Doors.

He resists, he goes with it, push pull, prowling her loft on
the acid, a bottle of cognac in one hand -- changing from
shot to shot like a chameleon, free, wild, vicious, obscene.

GLORIA
Forget the Doors. It's you they want,
Jim. You're the Doors.

JIM
(scared suddenly)
We do everything together.

GLORIA
You control the audience, like dogs,
manipulate them Jim, one picture can
control a million people, be anything
you want -- growl at them, be ugly,
be frightened, be selfish. Be man,
woman, whild, animal. Live, die,
return again. Anything you want.
Everything is permitted.

A weird dance ensuing between them -- teasing, enticing. He
runs away, writhes along her wall, being photographed inch
by moving inch. He crawls to her. She gets down with him on
the floor, straddling him, photographing. Then he straddles
her as she shoots him from her back. They kiss, flirting. He
growls like an animal... dives into her closet... tearing
open the doors, flinging away hanging clothes, he finds her
white fur coat and puts it on... JUMP CUT -- him as he moves
to her full-length MIRROR, contorting himself. She slides up
behind him.

GLORIA
Go on look at yourself, fall in love
with yourself. You're your own
audience now Jim. They want you.
Worship and love and adore you...

A pause. She wants him. No longer so cool.

GLORIA
...Jim Morrison, the god of Rock and
Cock...

JIM
I am the snake and you are the lute

GLORIA
Exactly...

Our camera dwells on Jim in the mirror, closer, closer --
the image and the reality, which is which anymore -- where
does it end?

The Great Jim Morrison, The Shaman, then Pamela, Patricia,
Gloria, a series of women who face after face fill the ancient
gallery, interchangeable masks as PEOPLE ARE STRANGE climaxes
and JIM's face SPINS OUT OPTICALLY TO:

DOORS SONG
People are strange when you're a stranger
Faces look ugly when you're alone
Women seem wicked when you're unwanted
Streets are uneven when you're down

LIMBO - MAGAZINE COVERS

JIM'S FACE on a series of MAGAZINES twirling -- "SIXTEEN",
"GLAMOUR", ROCK MAGAZINES, etc. flowering out into:

INT. DOWNTOWN LOFT - NEW YORK - NIGHT (WINTER)

Style vampires drink and grope and drug and dance under the
staccato blips of strobe lights. Artists and intellectuals,
groupies and debutantes, everyone on display, as contrived
and replicated as one of the Warhol prints of Elvis or Marilyn
and Mao on the walls...

FISHEYE POVS -- hearkening back to the acid trip -- as JIM
wanders through the dream, drinking, smoking, swallowing
pills. PEOPLE look at him, talk to him (AD LIBS) but drugs
distort everything and their voices are foreign, incoherent
and they disappear. "PEOPLE ARE STRANGE" continuing:

DOORS SONG
When you're strange
Faces come out of the rain
When you're strange
No one remembers your name
When you're strange
When you're strange
When you're strange

INT. ROOM - LIMBO

Jim peering into a room somewhere -- one of Warhol's FILMS
is playing on a wall -- a man sleeping, eating...

A GLIMPSE OF VIETNAM WAR FOOTAGE on a TV monitor -- B-52s
dropping bombs.

A fat little PR MAN grabbing Jim's arm, leaning in, distorted.

PR MAN
(cool)
You must meet Andy Warhol, Jim. He's
more than an artist. Andy is art.
Bright people in America wonder --
does Andy imitate life, or does life
imitate Andy. The meeting of two
kings. Yes, Come.

PAMELA is suddenly there, laughing, nuttily introducing a
handsome strapping TOM BAKER, a charismatic actor, and a
COUNT, suave, urbane, on heroin. Her voice lost in the jabber --
their names sound as if they're in a bottom of a tank. PAMELA
seems so impressed with the high life of New York.

PAMELA
Oh Jim this is Tom... Baker, he's an
actor, he was in Andy's movie and
this is Count Ruspoli. He lives in
Paris, but he's Italian. He's from a
very famous family over there. They're
seven hundred years old.

COUNT
(Italian accent)
Hi Jim, you are great... I see you
at Ondine's with Bobby and Jimmy.
It...

PR guy stays there, introduces himself to the count.

PAM
(pawing at Jim)
Don't you like the way he talks.
Isn't he cool?

JIM
(annoyed with Pam)
Yeah... hey what's your trip?

TOM
(cutting in)
Saw your gig at 'The Scene'. Hot...
very hot... You strung out? Here.
Try this.
(pill, popper, joint,
a drink, all at once)

JIM
Love your movies man. What a great
penis...

Tom is obviously a major druggie. A popper -- joint trade-
off going off.

RAY's face leaning in distorted.

RAY
Come on, we're splitting man.
Dorothy's waiting at the door. We'll
get a bite at Max's and...

JIM
You can't leave. Where's your will
to be weird man?

JOHN DENSMORE appearing with a wasted looking ROBBIE who is
giggling, high, and with a NEW GIRLFRIEND in tow.

JOHN
Get outta here man. This is fucking
weird man.

The PR MAN is still next to Jim, jumping up and down excitedly
waving across the room at nothing in particular. As the
PHOTOGRAPHERS try to get Jim and the Doors in a photo
opportunity.

PR MAN
Right this way Jim. Andy's in the
bedroom.

JIM
(to RAY)
Don't go, y'see Norman Mailer, I
hear he's here?

RAY
Yeah can we meet him, he's great...
just like he is.
(enamored)
You wanna meet him?

JIM
(paranoid)
I don't know... did he know who you
were?

RAY
Yeah sure, he's cool, come on, he's
your hero!

JIM
Nah... later...

A wasted, emaciated Edie Sedgewick type floats into Jim's
fractured POV -- introducing a MAN with a crew cut and silk
suit.

EDIE
(echoey voice)
Hey Jim, this is Jake Johnson, you
remember Jake Johnson -- the
astronaut, he's just got back from
outer space.

JAKE JOHNSON
I like the Doors, I like the Doors,
I like the Doors.

JIM
I like outer space.

Tom Baker brings a tall, incredible looking BLONDE in black
leather towards him.

TOM
Hey where's my joint?
(a roach goes back)
There's this chick sings with the
Velvet Underground, Andy's band. She
says she can drink you under the
table.

They stare at each other like two cats. Eye level stares
that go on and on. She finally hisses in a German accent.

NICO
I'm Nico. It's boring tonight. Some
of us are going downtown to a new
club. You want to come?

A voice to kill, looks to undress, fully as tall as Jim.

TOM
(distantly heard)
...elevate your taste in trolls man.

JIM
(to Nico who reaches
for her vodka)
Vodka? Race you.

NICO
Your death...

JIM
(to Ray and Robbie)
Wanna go?... Come on let's go.

ROBBIE
She looks too freaky to me.

NICO
Wait just a minute.

As she floats away.

JIM
Come on there's pussy Robbie.

ROBBIE
(excited)
Hey I met this chick Lynne, she wants
to be alone.

Lynne is there, pretty, nods to Jim.

RAY
Come on Jim, let's go.

JIM
(childlike)
Don't you guys wanna meet Andy Warhol?

JOHN
Tell you the truth, I can live without
him. He's a freak. Let's get outta
here. We got a show tomorrow.

JIM
Come on man! I thought we were gonna
be a band, the four of us -- and
party all night, rock and roll!

RAY
(laughs)
I could never keep up with you Jim.
I couldn't make the music.

Jim's eyes briefly on -- Pamela giggling with the French
Count, putting her hand on his arm as she laughs. Innocent,
nothing meant but a moment...

JIM
(desperate mockery,
grabs Ray)
Don't go. Don't leave! You can't
leave. I don't know what will happen.
It might be Death.

RAY
Come on Jim, this isn't our scene,
these people are vampires. We gotta
stick together man, the four of us.
Let's make the myths man.

A moment, strange. Slightly SLOW MOTION. Ray tapping Jim's
shoulder goodbye... Robbie and John's faces passing on. As
if they're parting -- in a symbolic way. Jim blinking in the
same SLOW MOTION, looking. Nico is gone -- but Tom is there,
across the room, waving.

The INDIAN SHAMAN looks like he's standing there in a corner.
Jim, ripped, heads for him, but the PR WOMAN cuts him off.
Jim forgets he saw the Indian.

PR MAN
Right here Jim, right here. Andy's
waiting. You know what you have in
common is uniqueness.

Past more faces. The Music has subtly shifted to STRANGE
DAYS somewhere along the way.

DOORS SONG
Strange days have found us
Strange days have tracked us down
They're going to destroy
Our casual joys
We shall go on playing or find a new town

Past a cache of QUEENS in white leather ogling Jim, one of
them coming over boldly, chatting him up (AD LIB dimly heard),
them grabbing his crotch and kissing him. Jim rearing back,
laughing but wary. Past the RICH LADIES dripping with jewels
and faces peeled from Brazilian sleep tanks and Swiss knives.

Past a YOUNG MAN dressed in Jim Morrison leather pants with
his hair and eye make-up, a warped image of Jim, smiling
back at him.

JIM
(looking for Nico)
Nico!

INT. BEDROOM - SAME NIGHT

A quieter room, drugged out, the PR GUY cheerily leading
JIM, stepping over SLEEPING BODIES, over fur coats strewn
across the floor... to a MAN with white hair like a circus
clown, his back to us, talking with some black-tied EUROPEAN
ARISTOCRATS looking so cool.

WARHOL
Well, it was such a big opening, we
just had to go to Philadelphia,
y'know, you were supposed to, mmm...

PR GUY
(butting in)
Andy! Andy!

ANDY turning at the interruption. He looks like a chic voodoo
doll. Holding an incongruous gold telephone in his arms like
a teddy bear.

Slightly SLOW MO as Warhol's black empty eyes confront Jim --
a pit of nothingness in them, amnesia, death. In Jim's SLOW
MOTION reaction we read what he sees. Andy going on with his
story, to the group that includes TOM BAKER.

ANDY
...but so many people showed up, the
paintings were getting crushed, so
they took them all down... um, it
really looked great y'know... maybe
uhhh...
(long pause)

PR MAN
(cutting in)
...the walls. The blank walls. Andy
was the art. Should do a show. Just
walls. Today it's really about people,
not what they do. It's the astronaut
that matters, not the voyage, the
actor, not the movie -- how do I
say, it's the trip, not arriving.

Andy is looking at Jim. Jim at Andy.

PR MAN
(babbling on)
...you know what Andy says, some day
everybody's gonna be famous for 15
seconds, but it won't mean anything.

BAKER
That's too short. I need a coupla
hours.

They laugh. Andy's eyes hidden, face as white as styrofoam.

ANDY
We'd just love to have you in our
movies Jim, you're so beautiful,
you'd be so good, you mmmm, here...
this is for you Jim.

Andy shows his eyes, gives Jim the gold telephone he's
carrying.

ANDY
Edie gave this to me and said mmmmm,
I could talk to God with this. But I
don't really have anything to say.
So... mmmm now you can talk to God.
Oh hi!

Vanishes, waving to somebody else. Jim holding the phone.

DOORS SONG
Strange days have found us
And through their strange hours
We linger alone

Nico reappears waving at him to come quickly.

NICO
Morrison!

EXT. NEW YORK STREET - NIGHT (WINTER)

SNOW on the streets... a group of DRUGGIES staggering in the
snowbanks, throwing snowballs, stupid giggling, wheezing
puffs of cold air...

Jim throws the golden telephone into the trash and pees on
it.

IRIS SHOTS continue -- PAMELA laughing battily with TOM BAKER
who's putting the make on her... The COUNT is on heroin.

JIM passing a vodka bottle back and forth with NICO hitting
a stash of ups. They fall in the snow, mad Russian winter.

DOORS SONG
Bodies confused
Memories misused
As we run from the day
To a strange night of stone
(SONG REPEATS OVER)

INT. HOTEL CORRIDOR (REGENCY) - THAT NIGHT

BLACK & WHITE IRIS SHOTS continue -- imagistic,
disassociative.

A LONG CORRIDOR -- COUPLE staggering down the red carpets,
champagne bottles in hand. The COUNT gets lost.

PAM laughing -- suddenly alone, notices, goes looking for
Jim... floating down this endless corridor with white doors
and red carpet.

INT. ELEVATOR

NICO stripping... a superb body... riding the floors...

Jim taking an amyl nitrate with her... laughing... Nico with
that crazed German laugh... PAMELA pushing the elevator
buttons wildly...

The elevator opening on her. From Pamela's POV -- Nico down
on her knees, her blonde head buried in Jim's leather pants...
Jim pinned against the back wall, smiling dopically, eyes
barely registering Pam... who screams loud and long, hiding
his eyes... not wanting to know... The images faster and
more fragmented: Pam beating at Jim wildly. He's laughing.
Nico's laughing. The Aristocrats in the hallway are laughing.
The world is laughing with its madness.

DOORS SONG
Strange days have found us
Strange days have tracked us down

INT. NEW HAVEN CONCERT HALL - NIGHT (1967)

An eager rowdy CROWD chants DOORS! DOORS! DOORS! DOORS! to a
stage without the Doors. TECHIES are moving amplifiers,
running sound checks, stalling time, the MANAGER SIDDONS
gauging the crowd, nervous. RICH GIRLS and LOCAL HONCHOS
have backstage passes. COPS crawling over the stage, the
PROMOTER of the concert trying to get the crowds attention.

TECHIE
(at mike)
Testing one-two-three. Testing.

PROMOTER
(on mike)
Look, the Fire Marshall's not gonna
let the show go on. Either you go
back to your seats, you go to the
aisle, you don't do that -- no show!

CROWD
(pushing towards stage,
no aisles)
DOORS! DOORS! DOORS!
(turning to)
MORRISON! MORRISON! MORRISON!

INT. BACKSTAGE CORRIDOR - SAME NIGHT

The SOUNDS of the CROWD pound thru the hallway. CAMERA
following JIM reading a magazine article, accompanied by
PATRICIA KENNEALY -- past the TECHIES, turning to look --
they go into empty SHOWER ROOM.

INT. SHOWER ROOM - SAME NIGHT

The Crowd NOISE still carries, echoing. JIM leads PATRICIA
to a quiet, isolated stall where they can be alone. Tapping
the magazine, sincerely moved by what he reads.

JIM
"Lord Byron"? Really. You think? You
like the poems?

PATRICIA
Like? I loved them! "Mad bad and
dangerous to know." That's what they
said about him. Your poems should be
taken as seriously.

JIM
These are the kindest words I've
ever heard in my life. No one has
ever understood. Thank you.
(then)
Maybe I should always fuck my critics.

PATRICIA
Y'know I don't even like rockers.
They're sleazy. I made up my fuck
list the other night -- out of 30
guys there were maybe three of them,
y'know. I'm not a groupie.

JIM
(hotter, grabs her)
Let's do it, here, now... with the
sound of the crowd. Like Nuremberg,
wild German fucking.

PATRICIA
You like that hunh? Beg!

JIM
I'm begging! I'm begging you!

PATRICIA
You wanna fuck me, Morrison, don't
ever lie to me again. Ever!

JIM
About what!

PATRICIA
Your father. Why do you tell me
bullshit like your father's dead?

JIM
(pissed)
What's your problem with fathers!
They're dead, both of them, I told
you.

PATRICIA
If he's so dead, then who answered
the phone when I called the house?

Jim -- a look, struck.

PATRICIA
(knowing look)
You didn't really think you'd get
away with that, Morrison. An Admiral
in the United States Navy. Who's at
the Gulf of Tonkin when Vietnam
starts. Your Dad's a Deputy Chief of
Operations.

JIM
What'd he say? That was really stupid.
Why didn't you just ask me.

PATRICIA
Well naturally he wasn't too happy
when I called. Your Mom wanted to
talk but he shut her off.

JIM
You're a fuckin' cunt. You could
ruin his career if...

PATRICIA
What, I'm a "fuckin' cunt" because I
called the house? Like it's hard to
trace your school records. University
of Florida, Albuquerque, New Mexico,
Arlington, Virginia, Washington,
D.C. Brother, sister, it's seven
miles long baby -- it's all in the
"The End", it's so easy.

Fingering his pants, her hand slips inside. Teasing,
dominating him. Her dark side radiant.

PATRICIA
Don't ever try to hide anything from
me again. Okay? Go on... tell me.
Did he make you cut your hair? Did
he hit you, was he a bully? Did he
love you? How much?

Jim describes a small space between thumb and forefinger.

PATRICIA
And your mother?

Jim makes a little larger space.

JIM
(pause)
I don't want to talk about it. Hate
is a very underestimated emotion.

His look is right at her. Silence. Patricia knows he won't
talk. Through the pause we hear the crowd chanting, bigger
and bigger -- "MORRISON MORRISON MORRISON!" She's excited,
wanting to make love here, now. He's cooled out, however.

PATRICIA
It doesn't matter anymore does it.
Listen to them. It's you they want
now. Not the Doors, not your mother
or your father's child... They want
you Jim.

Jim shakes his head, weary. Suddenly he's scared inside.

JIM
You're wrong. What they want I can't
give... my death -- ripped to pieces --
do you feel their power?
(the noise pounding)

PATRICIA
You have no choice, Jim. I see you
up there like Icarus. I see you flying
closer and closer to the sun. And
your wings are melting...

JIM
I want to live, Patricia. I don't
wanna die.

Jim's ironic eyes, to the ceiling. Laden with a power to
which he has married himself yet brave, resisting as she
pulls his zipper down and goes to her knees in front of him.
Shaking his head.

JIM
Patricia... Patricia...

A beefy COP stands there looking at them,

COP
Whatcha doing there?

JIM
Uh... nuthin'

COP
(approaching,
suspicious)
Okay, outta there both of you. No
one's allowed backstage. Let's go.

PATRICIA
You idiot, don't you know who...

JIM
Hey, I'm with the band man. It's
cool. Take it easy.

THE COP has no patience, grabs JIM by the arm and pulls. JIM
shoves him off. THE COP pushes back. A shoving match.

COP
Let's go. NOW! You're both under
arrest.

JIM
(pointing to his
crotch, angry)
Hey, eat it man!

The cop whips out a black can from his belt, sprays Jim.

JIM
Mace! Shit!
(in pain)

Patricia screaming at the COP grabs JIM, propelling him
violently out the stall of the bathroom.

INT. BACKSTAGE CORRIDOR - SAME NIGHT

PATRICIA
Help! They got Jim!!!

JIM
Why'd you blind me man? You blinded
me!

SIDDONS and RAY running up with ROADIES and OTHERS.

SIDDONS
What the hell happened!
(to Jim)
Don't touch Jim. Get some water.
Don't touch your eyes.

JIM
(in pain)
I BEEN BLINDED MAN. I BEEN MACED.

COP
(realizing)
Hey all he said was...

SIDDONS
He was WHAT! He's Jim Morrison for
chrissake. Jim, Jim -- you okay --
let's get you under the water here.
Don't touch, you'll be okay.

COP 2 comes up.

COP 1
I'm going to have to issue a warrant
for his arrest.

SIDDONS
Are you NUTS!
(blocking them)

JIM guided back into the shower stall by his entourage, eyes
blind as Oedipus, starts to laugh. A black Irish laugh.

Ray looking on PATRICIA in the hallway. A beat, senses what
happened.

RAY
Why don't you leave him alone lady,
he doesn't need more shit in his
life.

PATRICIA
What do you know what Jim needs?

A precise military Drum Beat hits as we launch into "The
Unknown Soldier".

DOORS SONG
...Hup two -- three -- four...
COMPANY HALT!

INT. NEW HAVEN STAGE - THAT NIGHT

THE DOORS on stage, JIM - eyes masked, facing death at a
mock execution, in full black leather armor.

DOORS SONG
Present arms!...

The famous drum roll, tension building. Sudden sound of
guitar. Jim crumples to the ground. Blood shooting from his
mouth.

JIM & DOORS
Make a grave for the unknown soldier
Nestled in your hollow shoulder
The unknown soldier
Practice as the news is read
Television children dead
Bullet strikes the helmet's head
It's all over
The war is over!

The audience is enrapt. Jim suddenly jumps up, looses the
blood curdling scream of an aroused demon and the band bangs
into Willie Dixon's BACK DOOR MAN.

JIM & DOORS
OH YEEEEAAAAHHHHHHHHHH!
AYYYYYYAAAAAMMMMAAA BACK DOOR MAN.

The FANS go wild, to the farthest reaches of the arena, as
he grabs his crotch and shakes it at them. INSTAMATICS
flashing rapidly as the KIDS press forward at Jim fondling
the mike stand, sliding up and down its smooth shaft.

JIM & DOORS
Well the men don't know
But the little girls unnerstan'...

Joints sail onto the stage at his feet, ready to be smoked.
A TEENAGE BOY & GIRL make a break thru the cordon of COPS at
the front of the stage, heading for Jim. The Cops chase them
down mid-stage, and wrestle them back to the edge -- throwing
them back into the audience.

JIM & DOORS
When all the good people are trying
to sleep
I'm out there making my midnight
creep
Yeah, cause I'm a backdoor man
The men don't know
But the little girls unnerstan'...

Danger fills the air, electric. Jim strutting, Indian like,
up to one of the Cops, whipping off his hat and flipping it
to the Crowd, which roars with approval. A couple Cops looking
at Jim, sensing they're being challenged but not sure how.
They shuffle and look offstage for direction. Their apparent
impotence brings redoubled jeering from the Kids.

RAY, next to his stick of incense on the organ, shares a
look with JOHN as they head into the instrumental break in
the song. There's something different about Jim -- more
demonic, more driven -- a spirit has taken him over.

RAY'S POV -- JIM catching his look, but no recognition in
those eyes. They're dark pools, like Warhol's eyes. He turns
away, taking the mike and off the cuff rapping
improvisationally with the backbeat, keeping poetic meter.

JIM
I wanna tell you 'bout something
that happened just a few minutes ago
right here in New Haven. This is New
Haven isn't it? New Haven,
Connecticut, United States of America?

The CROWD yells in acknowledgement, one stoned TEENAGER naked
from the waist up and ripped on beer, yelling out.

HECKLER
HEY MORRISON, is the West really the
best or are you just stoned on
weeeeeedddddd??????

VOICE'S
(annoying)
"Light My Fire". Sing "Light My Fire".
Yeah. Give us Light My Fire!...
(giggles)
We want Mick Jagger! Take your clothes
off Jim. Show it to us! We want the
Lizard King!

Jim ignores it, sits on the stage, lights a cigarette. Long
pause, tension building. Their catcalls for "Light My Fire"
die out as Jim faces them down. They wait... not knowing
what happens next.

JIM
(finally)
Well I was with this girl backstage,
y'know. We got to talking and we
wanted some privacy, so we went into
this shower stall. We weren't doin'
anything y'know jes' standing there
and talking.

The AUDIENCE laughing, the band continuing to play, John
adding emphasis to Jim's words with various shots and rolls.
Camera moving over the crowd picking out the KIDS, sensing
the anarchy dormant in their faces.

JIM
...and then this little man came in
there, this little man in a little
blue suit and a little blue cap...

More COPS turning to face Jim from front stage, getting the
point now. RAY sees it coming...

JIM
(redneck voice)
And he said -- "Whatcha doin' there?"
I said, "nuthin'" and he said, "Well
you better get outta there or..."
"Or what" I asked him...

The AUDIENCE has now grown deadly silent. Nearly every cop
is facing JIM as he uses his dumb Southerner voice. RAY's
eyes warning JIM.

JIM
And he started pushing me and I pushed
back and he didn't like that so he
reached back there and got out his
little can of mace. And sprayed it
right in my eyes. And blinded me.
Why? Cause I was alone in a room
with a lady doing what he would like
to be doing if he could ever get it
up without a gun.

The LIGHTS coming on suddenly, the AUDIENCE seething. Shouts
of "Fuck em! Right on!"

JIM
In the United States of America.
Land of the free. Home of the Brave
man -- in God We Trust right? TURN
OFF THE LIGHTS.

CROWD roars. A POLICE LIEUTENANT in his 50's, grey hair,
beefy, marches out onto the stage, standing next to Jim,
arms akimbo. A SECOND COP joins him.

Ray rolling the music out into a silence as Jim sticks the
mike in the officer's face, defiantly.

JIM
Say your thing man!

More cops come out, snatch the microphone, as Jim flashes
the audience a "touchy aren't they?" shrug.

LIEUTENANT
Young man you've gone too far. The
show's over. You're under arrest.

TWO more COPS moving on Jim, pinning both his arms and
dragging him off stage.

JOHN
(scared)
They're gonna beat the shit out of
him man!

RAY moving to intercede with SIDDONS and ROADIES.

JIM
(resisting)
HEY... HEY! HEY!

Ray and Siddons are pushed aside by other cops. The crowd is
going nuts. Chairs are thrown. Kids rushing onto the stage
where the Cops beat them back.

ANNE is writing it all down on her notepad. A certain
satisfaction and joy at the unfolding of this event.

INT. BACKSTAGE STAIRCASE - SAME NIGHT

JIM is dragged roughly down a flight of stairs.

JIM
GET YOUR HANDS OFF ME SLAVE!

EXT. ARENA PARKING LOT - SAME NIGHT

JIM is wrestled across the lot, pinned to the car and
handcuffed, punched and thrown into the car, yelling.
Journalists try to intercede, one is also arrested.

JIM
YOU'RE SLAVES. YOU'RE ALL A BUNCH OF
SLAVES. THIS ISN'T HAPPENING TO ME
MAN, THIS IS HAPPENING TO YOU!!!

INT. HOLDING ROOM - POLICE STATION - THAT NIGHT

JIM is spreadeagled against the wall, a dignified, defiant
look on his face.

COP 1
(coming in)
Hey whatcha got here? A boy or a
girl?

COP 2
(coming closer to Jim)
What do you care. You're gonna fuck
him anyway... Okay rock star, let's
see the backdoor you keep bawling
about.
(stretching his ass
cheeks)
Where's the roach powder?

COP 1
Ain't he the prettiest long-haired
boy y'ever saw?

COP 2
(reaching for a can)
Turn around rock star.

As Jim defiantly does so, Cop 2 looses a big cloud of roach
powder into his long hair.

COP 2
(backing off)
Stand clear, who the hell knows what's
living in there?

All during this, snickering laughter from the onlooking half-
dozen POLICE OFFICERS gathered to watch. Jim waits, then
with great claim, in a quiet voice:

JIM
You finished? You sure you're
finished? Haven't you forgotten
something -- the consolation prize
they gave ya for taking your cock
and balls? The guns. Why don't you
use em you withered dicks! You shit-
eating red-neck chickenshit bastards,
I hope this makes your worthless
lives...

As he's smacked by COP 2, sending him sprawling into the
wall...

JIM
(on the floor, quiet)
You better kill me cause I'm gonna
come back and fuck everyone of your
daughters...

EXT. POLICE STATION - THAT NIGHT

A SNOWBALL smashes against the glass. COPS coming out with
sticks.

A RIOT brewing. A HUNDRED TEENAGERS sallying back and forth
on the sidewalk, taunting the cops. A dozen of them have
already been arrested.

KIDS
LET JIM GO!!! MORRISON! MORRISON! WE
WANT MORRISON!

COPS
GET OUTTA HERE! GO HOME. GO ON NOW!

COPS chase the KIDS with sticks. But just as it looks like
it's going to get out of hand, JIM appears at the doors of
the station, stepping out between RAY and the DOORS and
SIDDONS. He signals his freedom, arms in the air.

CROWD
MOR-RI-SON! MOR-RI-SON! MOR-RI-SON!

Jim waves, does a small pained victory jig in front of the
thwarted Gestapo, ribcage and spleen hurting.

CROWD
JIM JIM JIM JIM JIM JIM...

RAY
(aside to Robbie)
He could go all the way man! In five
years he could be in the White House.
Another JFK.

Robbie's look tells us he thinks Ray is as much caught up in
his dreams as Jim.

CUT TO:

FLASHBULBS hits us full frame as:

INT. MUG SHOT - LIMBO

A reminder of the reality as the thud of a clanking gate
shuts. MORRISON's profile, disheveled hair -- he glares
angrily.

FLASH!

FRONTAL SHOT, slated Police Dept -- New Haven Conn -- 23750 --
12-10-67. A sullen handsome portrait.

INT. RECORDING STUDIO - (LAST SESSION) - LOS ANGELES NIGHT
(1970)

JIM drinks... an ugly cough. Silence. In this puffy wrack
and ruin there is still the ironic tones and sweet delight
of the boy amazed and amused by it all. We hear the ghostly
CROWD still cheering.

JIM
I drink so I can talk to assholes.
This includes me. Let's just say I
was testing the bounds of reality --
that's-all -- I was curious... I
kinda always preferred to be hated.
Like Erich Von Stroheim in the
movies... the man you loved to hate...
it's meant to be ironic, courage
wants to laugh. Y'know it's
essentially a stupid situation. I go
out on a stage and I howl for people.
In me they see what they want to see --
some say the Lizard King, whatever
that means, or some black-clad leather
demon whatever that means... but
really I think of myself as a
sensitive, intelligent human being
but with the soul of a clown which
always forces me to blow it at the
most crucial moment...
(pause)
a fake hero... a joke the gods played
on me... it's okay, I accept the
joke... and smile. Death old friend,
death and my cock, I can forgive my
injuries in the name of wisdom,
luxury, romance. Words got me the
wound and will get me well. All join
now in lament of my cock, a tongue
of knowledge in the feathered night.
Boys get crazy in the head and suffer.
I sacrifice my cock on the alter of
silence.

The ENGINEER looking at him puzzled. Has Jim lost it? MIKE,
his friend, is there in the Engineer's booth, with the Door's
SECRETARY, Leticia, and an elegant MYSTERY WOMAN. They're
smoking dope, partying.

MIKE
Hey Jim, how 'bout hitting a strip-
joint? It's getting late and we can...

JIM
Nah, later...

The violent backbeat of THE WASP now picking up.

JIM
Now listen to this I'll tell you
about Texas Radio and the big beat
soft driven slow and mad like some
new language reaching your head with
the cold sudden fury of a divine
messenger let me tell you about
heartache and the loss of God
wandering, wandering in hopeless
night out here on the perimeter there
are no stars out here we is stoned,
immaculate... but I tell you this:
No eternal reward will forgive us
now for wasting the dawn.

EXT. LOS ANGELES - DAWN (1968)

JIM walks the dawn streets. Classic image -- jeans, boots,
jacket, the sun starting to rise on the smog and translucent
pink light along Santa Monica Boulevard outside the cheap
Alta Cienega Motel where he lives... PEACE FROG shoots us
through.

DOORS SONG
Blood in the streets in the town of New Haven
Blood stains the roofs and palm trees of Venice
Blood in my love in the terrible summer
The bloody red sun of phantastic L.A.

Over the SONG, a MONTAGE of the 60's passing to its darker
side.

DOCUMENTARY IMAGES

MARTIN LUTHER KING assassinated, BOBBY KENNEDY gunned down,
PEGGY FLEMMING ice skating at the Olympics; A QUAKER burns
himself to death protesting the war in Vietnam; B-52 bombs
dropped on CAMBODIA; KENT STATE erupts; CHARLES MANSON is
arrested.

INT. BARNEY'S BEANERY - LOS ANGELES - MONDAY

JIM -- drinking in Barney's Bar.

HEADLINE READS:

"KANSAS COPS SLAM DOORS; CONCERT CANCELLED," 2nd HEADLINE:
"DOORS 3RD ALBUM OUT, SALES UP, MAGIC DOWN."

Dissolve to CRITIC'S FACE. Back to Jim's face.
Superimpositions over it of:

NEWS FLASHES

LYNDON JOHNSON's dog face on TV withdrawing: NIXON waving as
he wins '68; Rowen and Martin's LAUGH IN; COLUMBIA STUDENTS
taking over; 3rd HEADLINE: "MORRISON BUSTED IN VEGAS". MARTIN
LUTHER KING going down again; NIXON winning; massive ANTI-
WAR PROTESTS in Washington; floating space ships in "2001";
B-52s sailing over Vietnam 4th HEADLINE: "DOORS PROVOKE
CHICAGO RIOTS" -- again and again, faster, faster.

DOORS SONG
Blood is the rose of mysterious union!
There's blood in the streets & it's up to my knees
She came
Blood in the streets of Chicago
She came
Blood on the rise and it's following me
Just about the break of day (etc)
The river runs red down the legs of the city
She came
The women are crying red rivers of weeping

The MONTAGE collides into an ECU on JIM -- drinking as if to
silence the images, the sounds we hear and see on his face.
Spirits crying for release. In alcoholic solace. He passes
out, head hitting the bar.

Jim's English friend, MIKE, walks in, throwing a harsh shaft
of LA morning light across the dark bar and JIM's face, bleary
eyed, passed out on the counter. He has a drinking paunch.
With him are TOM BAKER, "TOM", the actor from the Warhol
scene in New York and a huge biker type drinker named DOG,
one of Jim's roadmen, a beard fanning his chest, tattoos
everywhere. In the front of these three monoliths are about
twenty beer bottles, numerous Jack Daniels bottles emptied
and a lesbian BARTENDRESS pouring up a breakfast shot of
bloody Marys... Mike hands Dog a breakfast in a brown paper
bag.

MIKE
Morning. Pour me breakfast Delores...

Delores pouring the bloody mary. As Mike scoffs at Jim passed
out.

MIKE
Whatsa matter with Jimbo? Can't handle
it huh
(studying the beer
bottles for leftovers)

TOM
Pussy whipped, man...

DOG reaching in, dragging Jim's face up by the hair. Sticks
Mike's greasy eggs and bacon in front of Jim.

DOG
Hey Jim, come on babe, eat this. . .
one last place to go. Ray's getting
it on.

Jim is suddenly alert -- an instant and surprising
transformation, without hangover, eager eyed.

JIM
(sparkling)
Alive she cried! Right Dog, another
cubic centimeter of chance
(slaps Dog, notices
the eggs, queasy)
Ugh, I can't eat this stuff, it'll
really make me sick. Gimme a Dos
Equis will ya Delores? And a Ramos
gin fizz with it.

TOM
Fuck man did you fade or what, we
were on a "death run" up to the 9000
building after the gig, you bet me a
grand you'd walk the ledge.

JIM
(instantly)
Let's go... Right now!

TOM
Then mumbling about "gotta go home,
sanctuary," pussy whipped. We were
gonna film it! A thousand bucks!
(to Delores)
Give him a double.

JIM
A triple, Tom, shem and shaun...

TOM
...imagine me and Morrison in a fuckin
movie together, can you imagine two
powerful two-fisted Irish fucking
drinking guys in a movie, in a
documentary movie!!

MIKE
I'll direct the shit out of it, man.
Dennis Hopper can do it, I can do
it.

JIM
(drinking the fizz
down)
...all of us direct it! In black and
white. Call it "Zero." A real road
movie! Two of these
(points to drink)
you feel a lot better.

As he pisses on the floor next to the bar stool.

DOG
Whatcha doing! Oh fuck.

DELORES
Fuck you Morrison. You're outta here
you fuckhead, get out!

DOG
(lifting Jim out of
there)
Come on Jimbo, one more place to go.
Ray's getting married man, this
morning, remember! You're the best
man.

TOM
Fuck Ray -- fuckin Pollock all he
cares about's money. Fuckin sell
out. You sold out too man. The last
album's shit, and lemme tell ya
something, people know it.

MIKE
(defending Jim)
Come on Baker, lighten up.

JIM
That's all right. I like it
(that dopey smile)

DOG
(to Jim)
Come on man, toe the line. Boots to
the pavement. Let's walk.

OMIT

Sequence omitted from original script.

EXT. SANTA MONICA BOULEVARD - SAME MORNING

JIM, loose, wanders right into the traffic, waving to anybody,
trying to hitch a ride. DOG and the OTHERS going after him.
Jim seen slipping a tablet from his pocket into his mouth.

JIM
(to no one in
particular)
I LOVE L.A. -- the best neon. City
of Night! City of Light... why are
you going to work? You're not slaves,
you're free, cars, you're free...

TOM catching up to him.

TOM
Awright shaddup Morrison, just cause
you don't gotta work.
(going into his pocket)
Give me some of your money, asshole,
and I'll yell anything you fucking
want.

MIKE
(coming up)
What was that speckled motherfucker
you just took? Give me some!

JIM
(yielding, to Tom)
You gotta fail to succeed Tom, gotta
surrender to the waiting tides.

Moving through traffic. Horns honking, incessant insanity.

EXT. PACIFIC PALISADES - SAME MORNING

RAY and DOROTHY take their vows in front of a HIPPIE PRIEST.

ROBBIE and JOHN and their WIVES-TO-BE, and OTHERS from the
BAND look on.

PAMELA is all decked out in her best, wedding clothes, red
satins from Morocco, five-inch clog heels, flowers in her
hair. Looking around pissed as:

HIPPIE PRIEST
(ad lib)
Awright, the vibrations are right
now, I feel peace and love here today,
I feel a grooviness coming on, do
you Ray Manzarek take your lady
love... (etc.) fill the white wings
of death, scatter your ashes
forever...

JIM slinks up through the trees, alone, quiet, changing faces
to face them as SUMMER'S ALMOST GONE plays sinuously.

DOORS SONG
Summer's almost gone
Where will we be
When the summer's gone?

RAY
(aside)
Where the fuck you been man?

JIM
Man, I been here all the time...
over there watching. I'm really happy
for you Ray you found life...

He smiles innocently. Ray, a beat, turns away. Pam coming
over, squeezes his hand, sweetly, no fights today, she's his
lady.

INT. COUNTRY STORE - LAUREL CANYON - THAT DAY

JIM, in dark glasses, strongly feeling the effects of the
acid, stares at a box of Kellogg's Corn Flakes, unable to
relate.

Down the aisle PAMELA, in her wedding clothes, is pushing a
shopping cart, filled with the feast she's preparing. The
Store is a haven for HIPPIES from Laurel Canyon, barefoot
RUNAWAYS, BIKERS...

PAM
Jim, I need some safflower oil. Do
you think you can find me a bottle?

JIM
Safflower oil, sure.

PAM
And get some Gravy Train for Sage.

JIM
(obediently)
Yes.

PAM
I'll meet you up front.

Jim looking, zombie-like for the food. PEOPLE of course stare
at him, knowing who he is.

TIMECUT TO:

At the CHECK-OUT COUNTER, the food being tallied up, JIM
spots his face plastered on the cover of something like the
"L.A. FREE PRESS" -- "ROCK'S BAD BOYS GO SOFT -- WHAT'S
HAPPENED TO THE REVOLUTION?"

PAM
Jim you got any cash?

Seeking in his pocket -- nothing but a credit card and a
rumpled old dollar bill... The faces of the Hippies looking
at him. With one of the magic markers on the counter, he
draws in his beard on his cover shot.

DOORS SONG
Morning found us clearly unaware
Noon burned gold into our hair
At night we swam the laughing sea
When summer's gone where will we be

EXT. JIM & PAM'S HOUSE - LAUREL CANYON - DAY

PAM and JIM and the labrador SAGE trudge up a hill carrying
the groceries to their modest little house tucked into a
hill of dangling eucaplyptus trees. We sense a community of
artists, hippies, Volkswagens.

PAM
It's only another $95,000 but I could
get the best clothes. From India,
Morocco Jim, clothes you can't find
anywhere, we could get the richest
people to come, Miles Davis, Cher,
the Stones, it's gonna be the best
boutique on La Cienega Jim... why
are we walking, how come we don't
have a car?

JIM
...cause you lost it. It's fun to
walk, isn't it.

PAM
...that was months ago. We got another
car.

JIM
Which car?

PAM
The red one with the black interior.
Remember it was a shift and I didn't
like it. What happened to it?

JIM
Oh yeah... I wrecked it.

PAM
Oh Jim! Damn! Where's the Gravy Train?
Whatsamatter? What are you on? You
promised you wouldn't drink today.

JIM
No Ma I ain't drinking.

PAM
You're not gonna drink any more are
you Jim.

JIM
No Ma I ain't.

PAM
And you're gonna change those stinky
leathers you been wearing for three
weeks.

JIM
I don't know 'bout that.

PAM
What the hell are you on?

JIM
Uh -- just some low grade acid. It's
not heavy.
(whispers)
Pam, read my mind.

PAM
Jesus Jim! Goddamit! You PROMISED. I
made the duck! People are coming!
Ray and Dorothy think we're flaky
enough and I... you said you'd wait
till after, you're going to peak
before me.

JIM
Hey it's okay, it's okay... come on,
we'll trip and then eat our feast.

PAM
Yeah sure.

Putting down the bags at their porch, pausing. He moves to
her, kisses her, conciliatory and gentle.

JIM
Come on baby, y'know it's a good
thing for Ray and Dorothy I think
women are such noble creatures --
they carry on your name with dignity
after you die.
(spawning like minnows)

PAM
What are you saying? You wanna marry
me Jim?

JIM
(elusively)
I think women basically have a comic
approach to life -- I mean how can
they not when they look up in the
dark and see a dangling penis, seeking
entry. It looks like a face y'know --
little beard "Hi mom"
(Pam giggling now)
I wanna get inside you. Look around.
(humming)
"Do the funky chicken, do dah, dah,
funky chicken do da da "love my girl" --

She's cracking up now. As he takes the acid out, holds it in
front of her like a sacrament.

JIM
Let's go wild child, let's get out
there Romeo and Juliet, Marilyn Monroe
and Vincent Van Gogh, Jim and Pam,
rock and roll
(a poem)
...all the poetry has wolves in it,
but one Pam -- the most beautiful
one of all -- dances in a ring of
fire and throws off the challenge
with a shrug

As she takes the tablet on her tongue, swallows.

PAM
(romantic)
I like it when you sing to me

JIM
'cause I'm the poet and you're my
muse

Strains of YOU'RE LOST, LITTLE GIRL drift in, setting a more
ominous tone.

INT. JIM AND PAM'S HOUSE - LAUREL CANYON - THAT DAY

The FOOD is laid out, the DUCK cooking... but no one is there
as we move across this tastefully decorated house to PAMELA
in the living room, rattled, obsessively going through Jim's
papers. PEOPLE are knocking at the door. Guests looking
through the windows, tapping. A giant poster of Marilyn Monroe
frames Pamela.

PAM
What am I going to do about these
papers! Jim, Jim -- you really need
someone to organize this stuff. Your
handwriting's just like a little
kid.

Jim is somewhere else -- pulling out the DUCK which is totally
charred black. He laughs.

PAM
My God look at this. I wonder if
William Blake was ever this
disorganized.

RAY and DOROTHY walking in. ROBBIE and JOHN general commotion.
Dorothy immediately seeing the duck, runs to it...

DOROTHY
Oh the duck!

JIM
(coming over)
Get some drinks, man. Over there
(getting Pam's
attention)
Pam!

PAM
I'm gonna be your editor now,
seriously I'm going to organize all
your stuff. I'm gonna take out all
the fuck words.

DOORS SONG
You're lost little girl
You're lost little girl
You're lost, tell me
Who are you?

PEOPLE are introducing themselves, coming in from all over,
like in a shoebox. Hippies. Doors people... now TOM BAKER
with MIKE and DOG... Now an aggressive Chuck Berry type BLACK
SINGER with John's GIRLFRIEND. Then a TIMOTHY LEARY look-
alike appears. CHATTER blending everywhere as we build to a
vast confusion at Jim and Pam's party.

JIM
Let's go wild child, let's get out
there Romeo and Juliet, Marilyn Monroe
and Vincent Van Gogh, Jim and Pam,
rock and roll
(a poem)
"Clothed in sunlight Restless in
wanting Dying of fever Changed shapes
of an empire Vast promissory notes
of joy How it has changed you How
slowly estranged you Solely arranged
you Beg you for mercy"

As she takes the tablet on her tongue, swallows.

JIM
(cupping her chin)
Pam... Honey, you're trying too hard.

PAM
I'm not -- I'm not.

JIM
(soft, reassuring)
Yes you are.

PAM
There's some great poetry here Jim,
some wonderful ideas.

JIM
Yeah but nobody wants to read poetry
anymore, nobody cares, it's not like
important y'know. Just put it away.
Not right now.

PAM
(lost)
But what am I supposed to do? How do
I fit in? Who am I supposed to be
around all these people?

The FRENCH COUNT coming in now, from the Warhol party in New
York. They're looking at her, embarrassing as everyone
overhears.

COUNT
Darling Pamela, I brought you a little
something.

JIM
(ignoring it)
You're my girl, that's who...

PAMELA
(laughs insanely)
I'm not your girl, don't give me
that shit. I know you fuck everything
that touches you.

Only in life would ANNE O'RIORDAN walk in at this precise
moment, a smile on her face. Ray's eyes roll.

ANNE
Hi Jim...
(waiting for the
introduction to Pam)

JIM
(to Pamela)
All right so I do. I live my life
the way I want. I don't want anyone
expecting anything from me --
including you! You don't like it
then get the fuck out!
(to Anne)
Oh hi Anne. You know Pam? She's a
little pissed off right now but...

RAY
Okay Jim let's eat that duck.

DOROTHY
(calming Pamela)
Come on Pam, let's put out the
plates...

PAMELA
(stunned, pushing
thru to Anne)
Anne O'Riordan. Are you Anne
O'Riordan?

ANNE
You must be Pamela

PAMELA
(eyeing her up and
down through her
tears)
You actually put your dick in this
woman Jim?

JIM
Well I... sometimes yeah

PAMELA
(condescending to
Anne)
I understand... I really do but don't
ever think that Jim's gonna love you
or take care of you. You're one of a
hundred you know

Anne uncomfortable, Jim getting pissed.

JIM
Hey -- don't you know when to stop!

PAM
Look who's talking

ANNE
I'd like to think Jim can make up
his own mind who he loves and who he
doesn't.

PAMELA
Don't kid yourself sweetheart, Jim's
crazy but he's not that crazy. He
loves me.

ROBBIE
Jesus, it's not gonna be one of these
dinners is it Jim? How 'bout some
turkey?

BAKER
Love it!! Far out.

DOROTHY
Yes, let's go into the kitchen. The
duck's ready.

John's GIRLFRIEND is trying to introduce the BLACK SINGER to
Jim.

GIRLFRIEND
(anxious)
Jim, you should meet Chuck Vincent.
He came specially to meet you.

JIM
(deeply surprised)
Oh yeah -- Chuck. You're my idol
man... since I was 12. The best man...

CHUCK VINCENT is suddenly there in Jim's face, bulging
eyeballs.

CHUCK VINCENT
So you the white boy makin' all that
money.

JIM
I still can't hold a candle to you.

CHUCK VINCENT
Hey everybody Chuck Vincent's here.
Yo sho can't boy, I ain't heard much
of yor stuff. What I done heard don't
show me much.

ROBBIE
(insulted)
So fuck you man...

JIM
(laughs)
Chuck Vincent man! No. He's right...
Chuck Vincent's here, everybody,
Chuck Vincent.

CHUCK
Ain't no honkey ever gonna sing the
blues, you ain't been there. Where
dat turkey at?

The charred TURKEY is being carved up. A moment of peace,
then: Pamela walks up to Jim with a bowl of sweet potatoes
in her arms, an announcement.

PAM
I just have one thing to say to you --
YOU'VE RUINED ANOTHER THANKSGIVING
JIM MORRISON!!

JIM
It's not Thanksgiving honey.

As she throws the sweet potatoes right at him, spraying
everybody. Jim laughing nuttily, the Count wiping the potatoes
off. Pam rushing now for the turkey to throw, Jim chasing
her.

PAM
(freaking out now)
YOU BASTARD! YOU RUINED MY DUCK, YOU
KILLED MY DUCK!!! BLOOD BLOOD BLOOD
RAZORS RAZORS EVERYWHERE!

Throwing the turkey at Jim, smearing everything, everybody.

COUNT
Pamela, bella, please behave hunh...
Va fanculo Jimmy, what the hell did
you give her

She doesn't want the Count's solace, throws him off.

PAM
GET OUT!!!

PATRICIA leaving now, covered with turkey sauce.

PATRICIA
See you later.

JIM
(to the Count)
She's working it out, man, it's okay
(going to console her)
Pamela, Pamela... come on baby, it's
all right, shhh.

HUNGARIAN GYPSY FOLK MUSIC playing madly from the tape deck.
John fiddling with it, nervously.

PAM
BLOOOOOOODDDDDDD! DEEATHHHH! STOP
THE BLEEDING JESUS. I'M DYING HELP
MEEEEEE!

JIM
PUSH! PUSH! IT'S A BOY!

They struggle, she goes for the carving knife, Dorothy and
Ray trying to restrain her. OTHER GUESTS keep talking as if
things are quite normal. Pam breaks through Dorothy -- coming
after Jim

PAM
RAAAAZOOOORS!!! RAAAAZZZZZORS AND
DUCKKKS! THIS SHAMAN SHIT IS BULLSHIT!
FUCK YOU AND YOUR DARK RIDE!!

He grabs her wrist just in time, equally insane now -- a
comic glow in his face. Jekyll and Hyde.

JIM
Oh murder? MURDER??? YOU WANNA DO
SOME MURDER

RAY
JIM! COME ON. GET A HOLD OF YOURSELF!

TOM, DOG & MIKE
(jumping in)
MURDER!!! YEAH!... Where's my camera!

A ball of people wrestling across the kitchen floor, upsetting
the table and the remainder of the dishes, a carving knife
at stake in the air... Jim finally wrestling the knife away
and holding it over Pam.

JIM
YOU WANNA KNOW WHAT MURDER IS. YOU
WANNA FEEL DEATH... HERE!
(forces the knife
back into her hand)
MURDER ME! FEEL WHAT IT'S LIKE! GO
AHEAD. GIMME SOME DEATH!!!
(kneels at her feet)

She explodes inward, a bloodcurdling SHRIEK. The knife
clattering from her hand.

PAM
YOU YOU YOU!!!! YOU KILLED MY DUCK!
YOU KILLED MY DUCK!!

Jim laughing insanely. Jumping up and down on the duck. RAY
grabbing him, angry.

JIM
I'M STILL KILLING YOUR DUCK!!! FUCK!!!
MURDER DEATH!!! THE DUCK IS DEAD.

RAY
JIM!! WILL YOU STOP THIS SHIT WILL
YOU STOP!! WILL YOU GET SANE!!

JIM
(explodes out of his
grasp)
DON'T TELL ME WHAT TO DO!! EVER!!
EVER!!

A silence. Robbie... John... their women... they start
exiting.

TOM & MIKE
(to RAY)
Yeah FUCK OFF MAN!

Ray about to lose his temper with Tom, checks it.

CHUCK VINCENT
(to John's girlfriend)
This party's gettin' low rent. Let's
go babe.

Exiting with the other Doors... Dog picking the duck up from
the floor.

DOG
Hey, fuck him, let's eat this thing.

Pamela is sobbing, in a quiet bewildered voice, repeating to
herself.

PAM
What the hell's happened to us Jim?
What the hell is happening to us.
There's some great poetry...

On Jim... saddened.

DOORS SONG
You're lost little girl (2)
You're lost, tell me
Who are you?

INT. TUNNEL - OUTDOOR THEATRE - NIGHT

The backbeat of NOT TO TOUCH THE EARTH as a DOCUMENTARY FILM
CREW, moves past us directed by MIKE and DOG and TOM shoot
past us, sun guns, nagras ("Rolling! Speed!") then...

A mad rush of HANDS and SCREAMS as SHAPES whip by under
swinging light-bulbs -- big BLACK BODYGUARDS, six or seven
of them, bulling their way thru the grasping faces, as
MORRISON appears... camera swinging wildly with him to reveal:

EXT. ARENA - (ANY CITY) - NIGHT

THOUSANDS OF FANS roaring "DOORS! DOORS! DOORS!"

VOICE
(loudspeaker)
Ladies and Gentlemen, from Los Angeles
California -- The DOORS!

SIDDONS
(in crush)
Jim! Your Mom's here with your
brother. What do you want me to do
with 'em?

JIM
(shakes his head)
HIDE ME!!!

HARD CUT TO:

Madness. COPS lining the edge of the stage, looking worried.
As Jim throws his leather jacket into the cheering crowd and
does the ghost dance around the microphone, Indian style,
one foot, resurrecting the dead, the power of the circle.
The stage is bottom lit, Dantean in look. The Doors casting
giant shadows of heroic proportions. DEA AGENTS in suits and
short hair take photos from the front of the stage, clipboards
in hand. Blocked by a row of cops, it is impossible for Jim
to communicate with his audience.

JIM & DOORS
There's been a slaughter here
Don't stop to speak or look around
Your gloves and fan are on the ground
We're getting out of town we're going
on the run
And you're the one I want to come
Not to touch the earth
Not to see the sun
Nothing left to do
But run, run, run
Let's run, let's run...

SIDDONS yelling at MIKE, the roadie.

SIDDONS
Vice Squad says one more "fuck or
shit" they're gonna close us down
man.

MIKE
Stick my dick in their ear!

Jim ignoring all this, one hand cupped to his ear listening
for the sound of the earth, gone into a shaman-like state,
weird spiralling chords carrying over the following MONTAGE
of hallucinatory insanity.

JIM & DOORS
House upon the hill
Moon is lying still...

EXT. JIM & PAM'S HOUSE - LAUREL CANYON - NIGHT

A POV up at the house -- into which JIM enters. The lights
are on. Sage at the door sniffing.

INT. JIM & PAM'S HOUSE - LAUREL CANYON - NIGHT

JIM & DOORS
Shadows of the trees witnessing the
wild breeze
Come on baby run with me
Run with me, let's run...

JIM'S POV entering the bedroom -- PAMELA naked in bed with
the COUNT, is snorting heroin. Shadows of the trees and leaves
blowing against the walls. Their voices, dim, distant.

JIM
(ironic)
Oh hi... I didn't realize you were
entertaining.

PAM
(stoned)
Hi.

She sits up on the bed, wobbly. The COUNT, more sophisticated
in these things, lights a cigarette from the bedside table,
revealing heroin paraphernalia.

COUNT
Scusi Jimmy, I hope you're cool about
this...

JIM
(very cool)
Don't forget your smack on the way
out.

EXT. ARENA - CONCERT

Jim's struggling to break through the barrier of cops.

JIM
(yelling)
The mansion is warm at the top of
the hill
Rich are the rooms and the comforts
there
Red are the arms of luxuriant chairs
You won't know a thing till you get
inside

BACK TO:

INT. JIM & PAM'S HOUSE - NIGHT

The COUNT is gone. JIM, icy cold, grabs PAM by the wrist.

JIM
I told you about that shit. Or are
we talking about death choices here?

PAM
I'm just doing my thing, just like
you said, it's my thing, why can't I
have a thing. Ow! You're hurting me!

JIM
(rising anger)
Get up. Hurt? You want to know HURT?
Let me introduce you to my good friend
hurt.

He is on her, throws her from the bed. She runs and hides in
the closet, slamming the door behind her.

PAM
(screaming)
NO FUCK YOU! THIS IS MY...

JIM
(crazed)
Ah sanctuary!... a soft place to
hide.

PAM
(inside)
...from you, you pig!

As he picks up a can of lighter fluid and douses the closet
door and the floor.

JIM
I'll give you a place to hide forever!

We INTERCUT with PAM inside the closet yelling for mercy
inside.

PAM
JIM!

He puts a candle to the drenched door/floor.

JIM
This is the best part of the trip,
honey...

Inside, PAM feels the first flames licking up, smoke wafting
in.

JIM leaves the house.

Pam kicking wildly at the doors, trying to smash her way out
as the FIRE crescendoes. She finally shatters the frail
molding and bursts out.

EXT. JIM & PAM'S HOUSE - LAUREL CANYON - NIGHT

PAM runs out into Laurel Canyon like a terrified doe running
from a forest fire. SONG beat NOT TO TOUCH THE EARTH
continues.

EXT. STREET - LOS ANGELES - NIGHT

Jim and Mike driving drunk, fucking TWO BLACK CHICKS. Mike
in the back seat. Jim drives the car up onto the grass of a
Police Station and plows right into it.

EXT. BOULEVARD - LOS ANGELES - NIGHT

Knowing who's inside, sufficient be it to see the blue Shelby
Mustang plow into a telephone pole on Santa Monica Blvd.

JIM & THE DOORS
Dead President's corpse in the
driver's car
The engine runs on glue and tar
C'mon along, we're not going very
far
To the East to meet the Czar...

INT. ANNE'S SOHO LOFT - NEW YORK - NIGHT

A HIGH PRIESTESS, assisted by a HIGH PRIEST, conducts a Wicca
wedding amidst a setting of candles, mixing a few drops of
JIM and ANNE's blood into a consecrated cup of wine, from
which they drink. They all wear long black robes, the only
light from the candles, standing inside a circle in front of
a table with altar, incense, chalice.

HIGH PRIESTESS
(dimly heard)
...we worship the ancient forces of
Nature, the Triple Goddess, the Great
Mother and the Lord, the Horned One...
when the vow is taken

INT. LIMO - DAY

MOTORCYCLE ESCORTS COPS zoom past the limo windows on the LA
STREETS.

INT. ANNE'S SOHO LOFT - NEW YORK - RESUME NIGHT

The PRIESTESS presses the two cut wrists together, binding
them with a red cord.

HIGH PRIESTESS
...it is a blending of souls on a
karmi and cosmic plane that affects
your future incarnations on this
planet. Death does not part -- only
lack of love -- and the vow is forever
in the Goddess' sight.

JIM & DOORS
(building faster and
faster)
Run with me, run with me
Run with me, let's run
Some outlaws live by the side of a
lake
The minister's daughter's in love
with a snake

Jim faints.

EXT. DOORS OUTDOOR CONCERT - NIGHT

JIM, mind totally gone into his trance, spreading his arms
like wings, hopping from one foot to the other like a shaman
around his microphone, whirling, yelling out great rewards
for the tribe. Plentiful antelope, healthy corn.

The kids are going wild -- writhing like maenads in his
intoxicating embrace. Embers from an enormous BONFIRE drift
past the stadium lights into the night. But the KIDS,
increasingly frustrated by a barrage of COPS, cannot see
their leader and now push against the cops with the very
result the authorities seek to repress.

JIM & DOORS
Who lives in a well by the side of
the road
Wake up girl! We're almost home
We shall see the gates by morning
We shall be inside by evening
Sun, sun, sun
Burn, burn, burn
Moon, moon, moon!

RAY, gone into his own trance, happening to look up from his
keyboard. His eyes widen.

His POV -- an INDIAN SHAMAN hovers over the microphone.
Cloaked in hides, his face obscured by a horned headdress
with colored tails and feathers streaming down his shoulders,
rattles in each fist, the BONFIRE glowing...

JIM & DOORS
I will GET YOU
Soon -- soooooooon... SOOOOOOONNNN...

The COPS can't hold. TEENAGE SHOCK TROOPS hitting the stage,
clambering up. The stage becoming a riot. Cops wading in
with sticks. ROADIES and BODYGUARDS yanking the MUSICIANS
from their places...

JIM
(indifferent, to
himself)
I am the Lizard King I can do anything

As DOG hauls the shaman king off in a bearhug, smiling stoned,
immaculate.

INT. ALTA CIENEGA MOTEL - DAY

Start slow CLOSE UP on JIM, he's crying, his head on a pillow,
silent, haunted... pull out to see the room, no explanations.
A TV GAME SHOW is on, JUDY, 17, and her FRIEND, 16, watching
naked, skinny..., piles of murder magazines and books,
clothes, and personal items trashed around the thread bare
room he calls home. She looks over at him.

JUDY
Man wow -- watsa matter Jim? It was
beautiful... wasn't it? Kim? Wasn't
it great?

KIM
(2nd girl, studying
murder magazine)
It was all right

Jim continues to cry.

JIM
(gently)
Hey it's no big deal. I like to cry
when I come. It's close to death...
maybe you'd better go home now before
your mama gets home.

JUDY
She is home Jim
(whispers to Kim who
goes into bathroom,
giggling)

JIM
What?

JUDY
It's a secret.

JIM
(innocently)
You know you've always been good to
me in bed Judy. And it was nice of
you to bring your friend. I want to
keep seeing both of you but it can't
be all the time y'know. It would be
a night every few weeks or so. That's
just the way I am, I'm not dependable.
I can't be a boyfriend. Would you do
that? I mean could you handle it?
That way? I don't want you to get
hurt.

JUDY
(putting on a tacky
dress)
I already been hurt enuf' by you
Jim, I don't have much to lose do I?

JIM
...do you love me?

JUDY
...yes

JIM
...Well, just think about it awhile.
Call me when you get your new
number...
(Girl 2 comes back
in, dressed)
Hey that's a really nice outfit you're
wearing, you really have good taste
in clothes. How long have you two
been friends?

He's so concerned, so solicitous that both girls crack up
laughing.

JIM
(grins)
What?

A knock at the door.

JIM
Come back later!
(another knock)
Who is it!

VOICE
(slurred)
It's a secret.

JIM
(recognizes it)
Whyn't you come back later. I don't
have any clothes on.

EXT. ALTA CIENEGA MOTEL ROOM - SAME DAY

PAM's mascara is running from her eyes, begging to get in.
The BLACK MAID cleaning the adjacent room overheard,
unsurprised.

PAM
Jim, I gotta talk! Let me in please.
I gotta talk.

JIM
Now Pam sweetheart, I'm busy.

Pamela listening at the door. She's on the second story of a
cheap motel overlooking a boring parking lot on the edge of
La Cienega.

PAM
Jim, I know there's someone in there,
I can't believe you're doing this
again. You're disgusting.

INTERCUTS TO:

INT. MOTEL ROOM - SIMULTANEOUS

JIM
Well you see Pam there's this crazy
girl in here, she's just lying on
the bed with her legs open and I
don't know what to do.

PAM
FUCK YOU!!! I want to see her.

JIM
(off)
It's your cousin Lizzie, you don't
want to see her. Go home.

PAM
We're all sisters, let me see her.
Jim,... I got this wonderful leg of
lamb in the oven for supper... and
the house is immaculate. Sage is
waiting. He wants you to play with
him... are you coming...

JIM
Almost.

PAM
Jim goddamit answer me!!
(no answer, she yells)
JIM! I FUCKED HIM TO HURT YOU! HE
DOESN'T MEAN ANYTHING TO ME!!

PEOPLE in the parking lot looking up. A silence is her only
response. She waits, turns away from the closed door as TOUCH
ME BABE cuts in:

DOORS SONG
C'mon, c'mon, c'mon c'mon now
Touch me babe
Can't you see that I am not afraid

INT. RECORDING STUDIO - THAT NIGHT

In the VOCAL BOOTH, JIM is chugging on a brown paper bag
with whiskey in it, crooning with heart but the voice is
warped, weak.

JIM
What was that promise you made
Why don't you tell me what she said
What was that promise that she made
I'm gonna love you
Till the heaven stops the rain
I'm gonna love you
Till the stars fall from the sky
For you and I...

VARIOUS PEOPLE are hanging around the studio listening -- a
couple of HIPPIE CHICKS, A BURN VICTIM w/ bandages, a CHARLES
MANSON TYPE, a Siberian HUSKY, the TIM LEARY type. Paper
bags, burgers, bottles, California rose, apple juice, hard-
boiled eggs.

In the ENGINEERING BOOTH. ROTHCHILD, the producer, is
displeased.

PAUL
(to Botnick the
engineer)
...fuckin' neanderthal primadonna is
too drunk to see.
(cuts the music, to
Jim)
Cut it... that was beautiful
sweetheat, we had a technical problem,
we'll take it again from the top
babe whenever you're ready.

On the floor, the DOORS are depressed. DENSMORE looking at
MORRISON, aimlessly, nervously. KRIEGER looking tired and
beaten, takes a discreet hit on a joint. Ray scans an art
book, patient.

DENSMORE
What's his fucking problem?

JIM
(equally false)
Paul babe.

PAUL
Right here baby.

JIM
Why don't you suck a fart out of my
asshole you slave driving facist
motherfucker!

As he stalks out of the booth. Raging, near-incomprehensible.

A small portable TV set is playing the "Dean Martin Show"
low on one end of the recording console. Around the room the
detritus of the time -- Mailer's "Armies of the Night", The
Stone's "Beggar's Banquet", Janis' "Cheap Thrills", Traffic,
The Band.

PAUL
(exasperated)
I hear the booze, I hear the smokes
Jim, I don't hear the voice and babe
I didn't hear the song!

JIM
So what are we going to tonight Paul!
67 takes! It's stale!

RAY
(coming in with JOHN)
Alright, let's try something else.

JIM
I wanna sing blues. This stuffs
getting too self-conscious.

ROBBIE
(offended)
Cause it's my song man?

JIM
(simultaneous,
incomprehensible)
Let's sing "Rock is Dead"! You're
all a buncha slaves... "Oh come all
ye faithful."

PAUL
(hot)
Shut up Jim! I don't understand! I
don't. What are ya doing! I love you
like a brother, I do, but why are
you fucking this up. It's a perfect
radio song for chrissake! No one
wants to hear the blues anymore!
Think like a singer, you're the only
baritone crooner we got left...
Sinatra, Elvis, Crosby, you're as
good as they are, but WHY ARE YOU
FUCKING THIS UP! WHY!

Pause. Jim's face darkening. Something he sees on the
television. He stops, frozen, sickly. Several BIMBETTES are
dancing around a shiny new automobile as strains of LIGHT MY
FIRE pop out.

JIM
Catchy, you sold it to a commercial?

Ray, Siddons, Robbie, John, shuffling for a moment.

JIM
For that? How much did you get for
it?

RAY
Now, Jim...

JIM
HOW MUCH?

SIDDONS
It was $50,000. You weren't talking
to us that week and we figgered you...

JIM
You figured? What the fuck is this
Ray?

RAY
It's not like a big deal Jim, the
song's already been commercialized,
the money was great. Robbie wrote
the lyrics and he didn't mind, neither
did I, neither did John... we gotta
get to TV.

JIM
What?... are you saying? Are we the
Doors? One for all and all for one?
Do you know what you're saying to
those millions of kids! "Just kidding,
not real". That's what you're saying.

JOHN
Oh come on man, you think just cause
you're the lead man in the band you
can run the whole show.

JIM
(building intensity)
You think I was kidding Ray?
(turning to John)
Hey John, those are interesting shoes,
you like those shoes?

PAMELA, looking drawn and pathetic finds this moment to walk
into the studio.

JOHN
(aggressive)
Yeah I do.

JIM
Good. Then do you want 50 of those
shoes?

JOHN
No.

JIM
Then what do you need more money
for?

Pause. Turning to Ray.

JIM
I'm dying Ray. I wasn't kidding.
Maybe you were. But I'll tell you
something, it's not about these
desires you have man, or money, or
these records, it's about breaking
through wasn't it? You just lost
something man.
(to all)
We all lost something boys. We lost
something.

RAY
I don't think so Jim. There's a bigger
picture here.

JIM
There sure is. In your fucking face!

A small smile flickers Jim's face as he picks up the small
TV and like a quarterback, hurls it, spinning end over end
from his corner of the Control Room towards Ray and Rothchild
and the Doors. They dive for the floor as it smashes to bits
into the wall behind the tape machines.

JIM
(quietly)
Just kidding...
(turning to Pam)
Hi Pam. Just watchin' some TV.

He seems pleased to distract his anger into her. She doesn't
seem to notice anything unusual going on. The Doors silent,
feeling Jim's rage.

PAM
(pathetic)
I wanted you to find us Jim. It meant
nothing.

JIM
I know. I know.

PAM
You don't have to torture me Jim.
Let me make it up to you, please...

The others all look away embarrassed. This is certainly a
moment the ordinary partner might turn away from Pamela, her
tears running, but her pathacy, her inability to deal with
pain is precisely what moves Jim the most -- a side of himself
in her -- an ultimate weakness she has, he shares. As he
goes to her, puts his arms gently around her.

JIM
It's alright honey, it's gonna be
alright. You're my girl and that's
the way it's always gonna stay.

PAM
(snuggles him, zoned)
Really...?

JIM
(ironic, to the others)
So, let's keep that money machine
rolling. Come on guys...

Rothchild looking to Botnick and to Ray. But the real look,
the unforgiving one, is from Jim to Ray who feels it.
Rothchild douses the lights in the studio.

PAUL
Right on Jimbo.

TIME CUT TO:

Overdubb of DOORS SONG SOFT PARADE - Jim's VOICE booming
thru the studio.

JIM
(reciting)
When I was back there in seminary
school
There was a person there
Who put forth the proposition
That you can petition the Lord with
prayer
Petition the Lord with prayer
Petition the Lord with prayer
PETITION THE LORD WITH PRAYER

ROTHCHILD looking from his booth across at Jim. His POV --
only JIM is visible.

PAUL
Where the hell did she go?

In the control booth RAY and ROBBIE share a look. The lights
have been dimmed in Jim's booth, and he's weaving back and
forth a bottle of Ripple in his hand as they kick in with
the music. Camera closing now on Jim in the tender section,
on the money.

JIM & DOORS
Can you give me sanctuary
I must find a place to hide
A place for me to hide...

In the darkened booth, PAM is on her knees his pants worked
down around his ankles, caressing him, sucking him off.

PAM
(sotto voice)
...sing to me, Jim, sing to me.

JIM & DOORS
Can you find me soft asylum
I can't make it any more
The man is at the door

The DOORS sense it. ROTHCHILD knows it, hushed. Magic's
suddenly in the air once more as we jump stanzas to:

JIM & DOORS
Catacombs, nursury bones
Winter women
Streets and shoes, avenues
Leather riders selling shoes
(The monk bought lunch)
Successful hills are here to stay
Everything must be this way
Gentle street where people play
Welcome to the soft parade

But Jim's voice has now gone off key, floating carefree,
drifting -- drifting away.

ROTHCHILD chuckles, philosophically.

The Doors in control booth start leaving. Robbie goes back
out to get his personal items.

But the OVERDUB still plays over the booth as Jim doesn't
realize. We take liberties cutting around on the song.

JIM & DOORS
All our lives we sweat and save
Building for a shallow grave
(then)
The soft parade has now begun
Listen to the engines hum
People out to have some fun
A cobra on my left
Leopard on my right

The Doors and ROTHCHILD all exiting, leaving BOTNICK the
engineer to clean up some technical things... and of course
the two occupants of the darkened booth.

JIM SONG
(fiercely)
Calling on the dogs (5)
When all else fails
You can whip the horses' eyes
And make them sleep
And cry.

The music stops. Silence.

Inside the booth, two shadows breathe deep, huddled on the
floor in each other's arms. A whisper out of the dark.

PAM
I love you.

INT. RECORDING STUDIO - LAST SESSION (1970) - NIGHT

JIM his head cocked, lost in the memory.

JIM
(reciting)
Why does my mind circle around you?
Why do planets wonder what it would
be like to be you?
All your soft wild promises were
words, birds,
Endlessly in flight
Being drunk is the best disguise
As the body is ravaged
The spirit grows stronger

Pause. He coughs horribly, the phlegm sucking out his chest
with a horrid, asthmatic sound which he douses with another
cigarette and another shot of whiskey. The Bushmills now two
thirds empty. He looks over at the MYSTERY WOMAN now beside
him at the microphone. MIKE and the SECRETARY watch.

The bored ENGINEER across the darkened midnight room yawns.

ENGINEER
Let's send out for some pizza Jim.

JIM
Nah, how 'bout some tacos when we're
through?
(downs another shot,
continues)
The world on fire
Taxi from Africa
The grand hotel he was drunk a big
party last night back, going back in
all directions sleeping these insane
hours I'll never wake up in a good
mood again
I'm sick of these stinky boots
Do you know we are being led to
slaughters by placid admirals?
And that fat slow generals are getting
obscene on young blood?
Do you know we are ruled by TV?
(pause)

SLOW DISSOLVE BEGINS:

JIM
Oh great Creator of Being
Grant us one more hour to perform
our art and perfect our lives
The moths and atheists are doubly
divine in dying
We live, we die, and death not ends
it
Journey we more into the nightmare
We're reaching for death on the end
of a candle
We're trying for something that's
already found us...

DISSOLVING TO:

INT. MIAMI AUDITORIUM - NIGHT (1969)

Crammed into every available space of an old SEAPLANE HANGAR
with no seats -- standing room only -- a MASS of KIDS swelter
in the heat, grumbling, fanning themselves with programs as
a warm-up BAND plays.

In the wings of the stage, a RADIO DJ/CRITIC is recording on
tape. It's the same kid we saw long ago at the Whiskey
backstage, pronouncing the arrival of the Doors on the scene.
Now he's got a beard, glasses, a more cynical face.

RADIO DJ/CRITIC
(into microphone)
A hot night in Miami January '69 --
every space in the auditorium is
consumed... unfortunately the Doors
have long since sold out. They've
become an act. Morrison "falls" off
the stage at least every other
performance. "The Soft Parade" album
only confirms the plasticity of their
approach. Songs like "Touch Me" and
"Follow Me Down" are not the Doors
we once knew. So the question is:
Why am I here? Are funerals
entertainment?

DENSMORE looks on from the stage wings, withdraws -- to RAY
nearby.

DENSMORE
He ain't gonna show! I know it man.
We should fuckin' go on without him.

RAY
Bill's with him. They're an hour
away, he'll get him here.

INT. NEW ORLEANS AIRPORT BAR - SAME NIGHT

SIDDONS, the manager tugs on MORRISON who's getting soused
with DOG, TOM, MIKE, and ROTHCHILD the producer. The P.A.
SYSTEM announcing the departure of the Miami flight!

SIDDONS
Goddamit Jim! We missed one already,
we gotta get this one man!

Jim slams has shot glass on the bar. He's got a beard for
the first time, looking like a tribal elder.

JIM
More!

MIKE
Four more all around and up and down!

As the WAITRESS takes the order

SIDDONS
(urgent)
NO! CUT EM OFF! CUT EM OFF!

JIM
Don't be so melodramatic Bill, it's
not fun anymore.

DOG
I can't fly sober.

SIDDONS
Jim, you don't show for this one,
we're dead, the whole group -- no
more bookings.

JIM
I care.

PAUL
Come on Jim, we'll get fuckin' laid
in Miami.

SIDDONS
We need the work Jim! They're making
us post a $10,000 bond just to show
up -- we're the only group in rock-n-
roll with a fuck clause!
(aside to Dog)
Get him on the fuckin' plane. That's
what I pay you for.

DOG
(to Bill)
You're an awful little guy to be
talking like that.

JIM
(muttering)
Chump change, we're working for chump
change.

SIDDONS
Look at you, you're a pathetic fuckin'
slob and so are all your friends!

JIM
I got an idea Bill, you're fired.

INTERCUT TO:

INT. MIAMI AUDITORIUM - THAT NIGHT

The warm-up BAND is applauded and booed. The CROWD resembles
a pit of snakes, wriggling on top of each other. Impatient
CATCALLS.

INT. DRESSING ROOM - NIGHT

JOHN
Listen to 'em! They're not coming
for the music anymore. They're coming
to see a fuckin' freak show!

RAY
You think it's easy for him. He moves
left he's got vice squad, on the
right narcs -- and the audience just
waiting for him to get busted.

JOHN
He wanted it! Not us. I just don't
fuckin' get the point anymore. I
never did I guess. Y'ask me he's
just become a drunken fuckin' asshole
that's what. And he's gonna take us
down with him.

RAY
Compassion was never your forte man.

JOHN
Don't lecture me Mr. Philosopher,
you never felt a fuckin thing in
your life. I loved that man. I loved
what he was.

Robbie strums his guitar, breaks the tension in the room. A
lick of "Five to One".

ROBBIE
It ain't the old Jim that's for sure.
I think he's living for everybody
else man and somewhere along the way
he's lost his own self.

RAY
(almost to himself)
The wine man, the ancient wine. The
ancient wine.

ROBBIE
What?

RAY
Something he once told us. About
Dionysos. When the madness took
over...

INTERCUT TO:

OMIT

Sequence omitted from original script.

INT. AIRPLANE - THAT NIGHT

The STEWARDESS, uptight, tries a smile at JIM, TOM, MIKE all
belted in one row.

STEWARDESS
My name is Rita Hager and if...

JIM
If your name is Rita, then yor ol
man must be ol man Rita!!
(guffaws)

TOM, MIKE & DOG
(chorusing)
That ol man Riva, he just keep rolling
along!

STEWARDESS
Excuse me sir, my father is not my
old man.

A BABY, with her MOTHER, stares at Jim fascinated. He lifts
his dark glasses, winks back at her.

TIMECUT TO:

The STEWARDESS slips the oxygen mask over her face.

STEWARDESS
In the event of a decrease of
pressure, pull the oxygen mask to
your...

TOM
Ma ol lady had one of those but she
calls it a diaphragm when I'm eating
her out!

DOG
Nah, it's a douche bag on a dixie
cup.

STEWARDESS
I'm sorry sir, but you're embarrassing
me.

MIKE
Great tits.

SIDDONS
Come on guys, cool it!

Other PASSENGERS looking over.

TIME CUT TO:

In flight. Dog squeezes from the lavatory and drops a small
bar of soap in Jim's drink. They laugh, push, yell. Jim is
smoking a cigar.

JIM
(teasing to Rothchild
in the row behind
him)
C'mon Paul, you can get us some heroin
man.

PAUL
(suddenly serious)
No I can't and I won't.

JIM
Why not?

PAUL
Cause I don't want to participate in
anything that would accomplish your
goal?

JIM
(wry)
Oh and what is my goal Paul? Death?

PAUL
"Death old friend".

JIM
(laughing)
Wrong. I just want the pure beauty
of absolute zero and sing the blues
man -- do nuthin, go nowhere, just
be.

TOM
With that waistline Jimbo you got no
choice.

JIM
(laughs, goodnatured)
What's wrong with being a large
mammal, a big beast like a tank. I
feel great!

DOG
Yeah. What's wrong with being fat.

TOM
You mean "Crawling King Flab"? Rock
is cock babe and your rock is dyin'.

JIM
Rock is death! There is no longer
belief. Hey, I'll write poetry and
direct movies.

TOM
And what are you offering? Sex? You
can't get it up. Salvation? You can't
even save yourself. Come on Jim,
you're not gonna be remembered.

JIM
Miss?...

STEWARDESS
What do you need?

JIM
Some love.

MIKE
They'll still be talking about Jim
when you're a walk on Baker. I'll
make you a deal. When you do
something, I'll criticize it.

TOM
I think you both should take your
heads out of the toilet bowl. After
"Soft Parade" You need an album
sweetheart.

MIKE
You should take it outta your ass.

JIM
The first two novels come along they
love you, next few they slam but if
you stay around long enough, one day
they say, "hey he's part of the
national psyche".

STEWARDESS
What are you drinking?

MIKE
Screwdrives-her.
(lifts her skirt)

STEWARDESS
(to Siddons)
I'm going to have to call the captain
if you can't control these people. I
guarantee that.

TOM
(a cruel sarcasm Jim
seems to enjoy)
...if you live long enough, don't
kid yourself Jimbo -- you're all
alone out there, Jimbo, cept for me,
cause you're too wacked out man,
they're scared, you're too fuckin
crazy.

JIM
(feigning innocence)
I wasn't mad, Tom. I was only
interested in freedom.

TOM
(the devil)
Bullshit! You're bored, you're not
free. You tested all the limits,
fame, fucking, money, -- whatcha
gonna do now Jimbo! When the music's
over, when you're too fat and ugly
to get on a stage, whatcha gonna do
for act three -- puke on Heaven's
door?

JIM
Listen you two bit fuckin actor, you
underestimate the audience. You think
they all want a better job, a house,
two cars, money, that's what you
think but you know what they really
want, Tom, in their lives, what they
really want --

TOM
Tell me.

JIM
(a whisper)
...something sacred, that's what
they want, something sacred.

Tom spews the contents of his mouth all over Jim in response.
Jim throws his sandwich back at Tom... then another drink
goes...

JIM
Fuck you ignorant devil's asshole
slave!

TOM
No you. Something sacred. My cock is
sacred. Suck on that!

JIM
I don't eat shrimp.

A full fledged food fight in progress. Dog, Tom, Jim, Mike
pushing and shoving. A drink spills over an innocent
PASSENGER.

DOG
Incoming!

The STEWARDESS coming up with the CAPTAIN.

CAPTAIN
ALL RIGHT!! If you young men don't
change your attitude right now, when
we get to Miami you're going to be
arrested.

JIM
Yes, sir.
(reflexively)

TOM
(saluting)
YESSIR -- you asshole.

EXT. MIAMI AIRPORT - SAME NIGHT

PLANE taxiing up. TWO POLICE CARS, red lights revolving, are
waiting.

INT. PLANE - SAME NIGHT

PILOT escorting FOUR FBI AGENTS aboard.

CAPTAIN
As captain of this ship I'm placing
all four of you under arrest. The
FBI will...

MIKE
For what! What'd we do!

TOM
Read me my rights, motherfuckers...
motherfuckin bulls!

JIM stunned in his drunkenness. SIDDONS and ROTHCHILD
protesting AD LIBS.

INT. MIAMI AUDITORIUM - THAT NIGHT

The CROWD is heckling a long-haired HIPPIE in a leather hat
who cradles a live, snow-white LAMB telling him to "GET OFF",
screaming AD LIB for the "DOORS, DOORS, DOORS!! JIM JIM JIM!!"

HIPPIE
Look at this thing! Look at this
beautiful little living thing!! How
can you eat it!! How can you eat its
flesh???

CATCALLS. Angry fists pound the edge of the proscenium. Bodies
push and pack against each other. If Hieronymus Bosch had
painted a rock concert, this would be it.

HIPPIE
LOVE ANIMALS, DON'T EAT THEM!!!!
(Boos!!)

INT. BACKSTAGE - THAT NIGHT

Excitement. EVERYBODY moving fast...

...as JIM, dark sunglasses and beard, surrounded by TWO FBI
AGENTS and his BODYGUARDS move toward the stage, two hours
late. SIDDONS with him arguing AD LIB with RAY and the
PROMOTER, a southern sleazeball with long muttonchops and
velvet shirt and beads. A mess -- the CROWD chanting DOORS!
DOORS! DOORS! DOORS!

SIDDONS
(screaming at promoter)
What the FUCK happened to the SEATS!!
(grabs him)
What's the FUCKING IDEA man! THERE'S
NO SEATS!

PROMOTER
I took 'em out! What's wrong with
that! We stuffed an extra five thou
in there.
(pissed at Jim)
Where the fuck you been!

SIDDONS
That wasn't THE FUCKING IDEA MAN!!
We're gonna sue you!... We're pulling
the plug.

PROMOTER
So sue me! You're playing or you
ain't leaving here with your equipment
sonny!

SIDDONS
(to Ray)
We're not playing.

Meanwhile, JOHN arguing with RAY and JIM who sways, drunk.
The FBI agents get lost in the background.

JOHN
I'm not going out there man!

RAY
JOHN, C'MON!!

JOHN
Look at him! I'm not going out there
'till I get some sorta guarantee
he's gonna stay in line. I've had it
with this shit.

JIM
Whatsa matter, scared Johnny boy?

JOHN
(going physically for
Jim)
YOU'RE A FUCKIN ASSHOLE MAN!!

RAY
JOHN!! STOP IT!! COME ON!!

Jim laughing, throws his arm around ROBBIE for support, ROBBIE
patient with him. John yelling as they approach the curtains
and the lights and the first monster realization of the
THOUSAND MOUTHS waiting in the pit of hell.

JOHN
You're pushing death Morrison.
Everybody thinks we're drug addicts
cause of you Morrison.

JIM
We the Beatles yet?

JOHN
(held by Ray)
We took drugs to EXPAND MINDS ASSHOLE,
not ESCAPE. I'M NOT GOING OUT THERE
WITH YOU.

JIM
Hey John y'ever eaten human flesh?
When we get to New York, I know this
chick...

RAY
(taking John aside)
Come on man.

JOHN
I'm not going out there!

RAY
We'll talk tomorrow, we'll settle
it. Just do it tonight man and...

As JIM brings up a tiny vial with a lubricating head on it,
holds it to Robbie's lips playfully. They're in the shadows.

JIM
...just a touch Robbie, it's the
funkiest stuff, you'll play like an
orgasm tonight...

ROBBIE
No man come on, I don't want any.

JIM
...just a little lick, come on trust
me... for old times, the four of us,
let's get together one more time,...
the Doors man... Please. For me.

Something so sincere in Jim's eyes. Robbie takes the fatal
lick. Jim smiles manically as the NUREMBERG SOUNDS of the
CROWD drown them out.

ROBBIE
You said you love pain man, but you
run from it every chance you get.

INT. STAGE - SAME NIGHT

The DOORS come out finally. The noise is overwhelming. Acid,
light, noise. Wagnerian Gods, Hitler...

JIM spreading his arms like Icarus set to fly. The ROARS
redouble, their FEET stomping out:

CROWD
(insane)
DOORS DOORS DOORS DOORS...

Joints are thrown by the dozen on the stage at Jim's feet.
He is a god now as he bends regally, picks one up.

COPS everywhere looking as...

He lights it. The CROWD going nuts as the DOORS go into the
ominous introductory strains of FIVE TO ONE trying to get
the onus off Jim and the show on the road. The Audience knows
the song, go into a primal FOOT STOMP with it. Bras are thrown
on stage. Kids writhe madly in the primal Doors dance.

People with SPARKLERS running through the hangar. CAMERA
FLASHBULBS popping throughout the show... get Jim on film
while you can.

Jim, drunk, high, smoking the jay, won't go into the lyrics
right off, forcing the Doors to circle the beat again. He
jerks his hand back from the mike as if it were a hot wire.

JIM
ARE YOU READY!!!!
(beat)
ARE YOU REAAAAAAADYYYYYYYYY!!

The Crowd explodes once more. As a COP heads upstage to get
Jim for the joint -- he cooly flicks it back into the crowd,
avoiding disaster. Perfect timing as the Cop looks around,
suddenly distracted by:

The Crowd yelling something. An INSANE TEENAGER stands on
the railing of a balcony above the auditorium, poised to
swan dive some 18 feet into the crowd. Which he now does,
arms held out like wings.

The Crowd yells, parting to allow his bulk to smack the floor.
Pause. Cops rushing to the spot. The KID suddenly stands up,
unhurt, with a stoned out look on his face.

TEENAGER
Wow!

Then splits at a full run thru the crowd chased by the
perplexed Cops. Everybody surging back towards the stage as
JIM looses one of his primal SCREAMS.

JIM
YAAAAAOOOOOOOOOOWWWWWW... Love my
girl!
(song)
Five to one
One in five
No one here gets out alive
You gets your baby
I'll get mine
Gonna make it, baby
If we try

He slobbers, drunk, slouches, stumbles, regains his balance.
The Crowd loves it, but Ray senses something wrong. Robbie
starts to feel the effects of the acid Jim gave him -- his
eyes registering fear.

JIM & DOORS
The old get old
The young get stronger
May take a week
And it may take longer
They got the guns
But we got the numbers
Gonna win yeah -- WE'RE TAKING OVER!!

During the instrumental break, Jim picks up one of the roses
from the floor, pokes it at John on the drums, who whacks it
to death on his skins. Jim starts to whirl the mike cord
like a slingshot or bolo, in an ever-widening arc...

...it flies off and smashes into the head of the PROMOTER at
the edge of the stage arguing with SIDDONS. The man is
staggered, weaving, Siddons helping him to a FIRST AID TEAM.

JIM
YAAAAAAOOOOOOWWWWWWW!!!

The crazy VEGETERIAN HIPPIE runs out on stage to give Jim
the white lamb to make this political point. Jim holds the
lamb in his arms. It's purring, gentle. DOG chases the HIPPIE
off as he gives the microphone back to Jim and takes the
lamb from him... he staggers over to ROBBIE and goes down to
his knees, pretending to give him head on his frantic stoned
guitar solo.

JIM & DOORS
Your ballroom days are over baby
Night is drawing near
Shadows of the evening
Crawl across the years
You walk across the floor
With a flower in your hand
Tryin to tell me no one understands

PHOTOGRAPHERS flashing cameras. BAKER urging him on from the
wings as he passes out. A GIRL runs onto the stage, dumps a
bottle of champagne on Jim's head. Jim takes his shirt off,
soaking wet. The CROWD is also stripping in the heat, shirts,
blouses, screaming so much now they are obviously way past
listening to any song. It has become a view of the future --
the NAKED GIRL and BOY dancing stark naked drugged out in
the middle of it all, the FAT GIRL prowling naked on the
edge of the stage before she's arrested, the FIGHTS in the
Crowd, fists, blood, a black man chased and beaten, the sense
of Altamont here, the hippie flower trip gone to shit --
it's all come down here tonight, the end of an era.

JIM & DOORS
Trade in your hours for a handful of
dimes
Gonna make it baby -- in our prime
Get together one more time
Get together

He stops singing suddenly, squinting out into the madness.
The arena echoes with the uncomprehending chant of the Mob...

MOB
...one more time
Get together one more time
Get together one more time

SPECIAL EFFECT -- the INDIAN GHOST is leaving Jim's body --
spectrally moving off him, hovering there in the air, its
eyes -- the face of a dying Indian on an Arizona highway --
then gone. A moment, only three, four beats. An optical
illusion? Maybe. Or is it saying, 'now you are just a white
man'... maybe not. As it drifts off in a cloud, into the
vast audience's EYEBALL.

JIM
YOU'RE ALL A BUNCHA FUCKIN SLAVES!!!

The instruments continue to vamp but there's a hush to the
CROWD.

JIM
Lettin people tell you what you're
gonna do! Lettin people push you
around! How long you think it's gonna
last! How long you gonna let them
push you around!!

He waits. INTERCUTS of the FACES in the crowd.

VOICES
(ignoring Jim)
"Light My Fire"! Play "Light My
Fire"!! Come on Jim...
(some boos sprinkled
in)
Take your clothes off man! Get wild!
Fuck me baby. Fuck me girl, suck my
cock honey around the world! Mexican
whore suck my prick! Keeper of the
royal sperm man! CELEBRATE THE LIZARD
MAN, DRAIN IT MOTHERFUCKER!!

JIM
C'MON GET IT ALL OUT! ALL THE LITTLE
HATREDS, Everything inside you...
LET ME HAVE IT!

CROWD
FUCK YOU!

JIM
THAT'S THE ONE LITTLE WORD I WANTED
TO HEAR! THAT'S THE VERY LITTLE WORD!
THE WHOLE WORLD HATES ME! THE WHOLE
FUCKING WORLD HATES ME!

VOICE
(girl)
SAVE US... SAVE US, JIM... JIM!
EEEE... I TOUCHED HIM.

JIM
Maybe you love it, maybe you love
gettin your faces pressed into the
shit of the world! You'd all eat
shit wouldn't ya!! Adolph Hitler is
ALIVE AND WELL HERE IN MIAMI!! YOU'RE
ALL A BUNCHA SLAVES!!

The Crowd BOOS back at him, surging suddenly with hatred for
Jim. Intercut the Crowd -- feel this hatred.

JIM
WHAT ARE YA GONNA DO ABOUT IT! WHAT
ARE YA GONNA DO ABOUT IT! WHAT ARE
YA GONNA DO ABOUT IT!

The Band has petered out by this point but out of nowhere,
ROBBIE, zonked on his version of LSD, starts up with "TOUCH
ME BABE."

JIM & DOORS
(going with it)
Come on, come on, come on and FUCK
me babe! Can't you see that I am not
afraid
(cuts the music)
HEY WAIT A MINUTE...
(music cuts off
raggedly)
Miami Beach Florida hunh? I was BORN
and RAISED not far from here... went
to Florida State...
(cheers)
Then I GOT SMART. I went to California
where you can let your hair grow
long and walk down the street without
people calling you a FREAK... They're
trying to CHANGE THE WORLD out there
in California.

VOICES
Yeah, STOP THE WAR MAN, PEACEEE...
WE LOVE YA JIM.

JIM
NO I'm not talkin' 'bout NO
REVOLUTION. I'm not talkin 'bout no
DEMONSTRATION. I'm talking 'bout
HAVING SOME FUN. I'm talkin' 'bout
DANCIN. I'm talkin 'bout LOVE. I'm
talkin' 'bout some LOVE. LOVE LOVE
LOVE LOVE... LOVE!!!! Grab your friend --
and LOVE him. Come oooooaaaannnnn.
Yeah!

Jim pulling his shirt off -- barechested -- waving it like a
toreador in front of his leather crotch.

VOICES
(cheers, giggles)
"Light My Fire"! Come on Jim -- play
"Light My Fire"!

The audience seems to be paying no attention to what he is
doing or saying, which drives him to deeper rage.

JIM
Ain't nobody gonna love my ass? Come
on... I need ya. There's so many of
ya out there and nobody's gonna love
me! C'mon -- what'cha come here for
anyway? You didn't come here for
music. You didn't come here to see a
good band. You came here for THIS
didn't ya...

He saunters to the edge of the stage. Hisses at them. He
clasps his crotch, leering at a cute LITTLE GIRL in the front
row, shaking it at her. Her BOYFRIEND, pissed at Jim, runs
for the stage. Jim unzips his leathers.

JIM
I'm lonely out here -- Ya wanna SEE
IT... COME ON SWEETHEART... I need
it, I NEED IT, need ya, need ya,
NEED YA, COME OOOOOAAAANNNNNNN...

Chaos, confusion now erupt in the crowd! The BOYFRIEND is
running at JIM as the BODYGUARDS throw him back into the
crowd. Jim flicking his shirt over his crotch, back and forth
like a drunken matador. The Doors look at each other, don't
know what's going to happen.

JIM
Didja see it! You wanna see it
AGAIN???

The crowd roars its approval. Confusion reigns. Drunken
CATCALLS. Things, bras, cans thrown at the stage.

VOICES
(ad lib)
Take it off! Take it all off!

JIM
What if I pull it out fer ya!! And
SHAKE IT AROUND!!! Will that do it
for you! Would ya, would ya, would
ya!! Now watch -- I'm gonna show it
to ya!

He feigns opening his belt and exposing himself, flipping
his shirt back and forth over the crotch in a mock striptease.

JIM
There it was! Ya see it? Ya see it?...
Ya wanna see it again?

A flock of TEENAGE GIRLS are sure they've seen it, hysterical.

TEENAGE GIRL
I saw it!... Yes, yes! Jim! Jim!

TEENAGE GIRL 2
Where? I didn't see it.

JIM
(roaring out his
commands)
COME ON UP HERE AND LOVE MY ASS! I
WANNA SEE SOME ACTION OUT THERE! I
WANNA SEE SOME ACTION OUT THERE! I
WANNA SEE SOME ACTION OUT THERE! I
WANNA SEE SOME ACTION OUT THERE! I
WANT YOU TO LOVE MY ASS! I WANT SOME
LOVE... LOVE... LOVE... LOVE C'MON,
C'MON... NO LIMITS, NO LAWS YOU WANNA
FUCK? COME ON! COME ON UP HERE!!!!!

He looks like he's really gonna tear it all off now. A flash
of boxer shorts. RAY moving. SIDDONS moving. DOG getting to
him first, wrapping him in a bearhug from behind, lifting
him holding his pants up.

VINCE THE ROADIE
DON'T DO IT MAN. DON'T DO IT!

RAY
HEY JIM.

JIM
C'MON! C'MON! NO LIMITS, NO LAWS! NO
LIMITS, NO LAWS! NO LIMITS, NO LAWS!

The place is in PANDEMONIUM now. GIRLS jumping on stage and
dancing with Jim still in Vince the Roadie's bearhug. Another
RIOT... COPS fighting the TEENAGERS off the stage, now
wobbling under the weight.

PROMOTER
(pissed, head bandaged)
GET OFF THE FUCKING STAGE! GET OFF
THE FUCKING STAGE!!
(stiffarms Jim off
the stage)

RAY starts playing BREAK ON THROUGH trying to keep things
normal.

JIM now out there in the arena in a CONGA LINE, doing his
rain dance, hands on hips, the TEENAGERS forming a long snake
behind him.

The huge speaker columns teeter and fall. A corner of the
STAGE now COLLAPSES from the weight, PEOPLE spilling on the
floor, screams. The power console tips over next to DENSMORE.
He bails. Manzarek and Krieger follow.

The PROMOTER is yelling at SIDDONS about his insurance
contract as the COPS and FBI AGENTS close in, looking for
Jim.

COPS
Where's the guy with the penis!

Who is out there leading his naked drunken FLOCK, hundreds
of them in a phallic Pied Piper dance thru the darkened
seaplane hanger. From BREAK ON THROUGH PART TWO:

JIM ET AL & DOORS
You know the day destroys the night
Night divides the day
Try to run, try to hide
BREAK ON THROUGH TO THE OTHER SIDE
BREAK ON THROUGH TO THE OTHER SIDE
BREAK ON THROUGH TO THE OTHER SIDE
Dead cats! Dead rats! Did you see
what they were at Dead cat in a top
hat! Sucking on a young man's blood
Fat cat in a top hat
Thinks he's an aristocrat
Thinks he can kill and slaughter
Thinks he can shoot my daughter
Dead cats! Dead rats! Think you're
an aristocrat Crap, that's crap

Ray watching from the corner of the stage, littered with
bras, bottles, shirts, shoes, socks, panties, hats, broken
equipment, debris -- the end of the dream. The Doors as a
live band are dead.

DISSOLVING TO:

INT. MIAMI COURTROOM - DAY (1970)

The "Charges" are being read by the JUDGE, distant, not of
this world. The court is lit in southern gothic daylight,
ghostly chiaroscuro, all colors bled. Camera moving along
the sweaty white faces of the six older JURORS, all of them
straight "silent majority"... past the PROSECUTOR, his shadow
cutting the jury box... onto JIM bearded, smoking 2 packs a
day, a deep racking cough, sitting with his elder ATTORNEY...
RAY, ROBBIE, JOHN, PAMELA, OTHERS in support are there in
background. The trial is going down like a morphine dream,
Jim featured in diopter close-up.

JUDGE VOICE
...you are charged under four counts
with lewd behavior, simulated
masturbation, public drunkenness,
profanity, and public exposure.

A blues riff goes by -- brief, ghostly from RUNNING BLUE.

JIM SONG
Poor Otis dead and gone
Left me here to sing his song
Pretty little girl with the red dress on
Poor Otis dead and gone

JIM (V.O.)
I can't believe this is happening
I can't believe all these people are
sniffing each other & backing away,
teeth grinning, hair raised, growling,
here in the slaughtered wind
This is it
No more fun the death of all joy has
come

The PRESS SECTION is full as Jim's older LAWYER argues in
front of the JURY, a distant voice.

LAWYER
Your Honor, I would like to bring to
the Court's attention the contemporary
Broadway musical "Hair" in which
cast members disrobe and appear naked
on the stage.

JUDGE
(pounds his gavel)
Inadmissable evidence.

JIM VOICE OVER
I had a vision of America
Seen from the air 28,000 ft. & going
fast
A one-armed man in a Texas parking
labyrinth
A burnt tree like a giant primeval
bird in an empty lot in Fresno

SUPERIMPOSITION:

LAWYER
Your Honor... any difference from
the Miami nightclubs where comedians
frequently incorporate profanity
into their acts

JUDGE
(gavel)
Inadmissable evidence.

JIM VOICE OVER
Miles & miles of hotel corridors &
elevators, filled with citizens
Motel
Money
Murder, Madness
Change the mood from glad to sadness
Play the ghost song baby

The backbeat of WHEN THE MUSIC'S OVER starts, into its
spiralling descent.

SUPERIMPOSITION:

LAWYER
(distant)
...there has not been one shred of
evidence: 300 photographs and not
one shows a thing; not reliable
testimony, nothing but hysterical
heresay

The PRESS is bored, their numbers reduced. The spectators
have changed from kids to OLDER PEOPLE intent on preserving
their way of life. A TAPE is playing of Jim's devil voice at
the concert, cursing: "Come on up here. No limits! No laws",
etc... (screams, obscenity)

JIM & DOORS
(SONG)
When the music's over (3)
Turn out the lights (3)
For the music is your special friend
Dance on fire as it intends
Music is your only friend
Until the end (2)

SUPERIMPOSITION TO:

LAWYER
...this is a major First Amendment
violation by the Police and
Politicians of Miami. Every witness
they've brought has admitted under
oath to not actually seeing the
client's genitals -- except one who...

The PRESS section is now down to about THREE bored FACES,
one of them PATRICIA KENNEALY who looks pregnant.

JIM smiles at her.

JIM & DOORS
Cancel my subscription to the Resurrection
Send my credentials to the house of detention
I got some friends inside

EXT. ORANGE BOWL - MIAMI - DOCUMENTARY FOOTAGE (DAY)

ANITA BRYANT & JACKIE GLEASON at the NATIONAL DECENCY RALLY.
A large CROWD in the vicinity of 100,000. NIXON addressing
them.

JIM & DOORS SONG
(OVER)
The face in the mirror won't stop
The girl in the window won't stop
A feast of friends alive she cried
Waiting for me
Outside!

MONTAGE -- NEWSPAPER HEADLINES SPIN OUT:

JIMMI HENDRIX OVERDOSES IN LONDON.

JANIS JOPLIN OVERDOSES IN LOS ANGELES.

A ROLLING STONE WANTED POSTER ON JIM -- "In the County of
Dade/Dead -- Did He Or Didn't He?".

JIM & DOORS SONG
(OVER)
Before I sink into the big sleep
I want to hear
The scream of the butterfly
Come back baby
Back into my arms

INT. HOTEL ROOM - MIAMI BEACH - DAY

The MUSIC continuing into a long backbeat without lyrics --
emphasizing the downward spiralling theme...

JIM
...Well, you gonna get rid of it?
Fucked up people y'know, crazies,
unwanted Indians just throw it in
the river.

Pause. PATRICIA -- four and a half months pregnant, stares.
A glary window onto a balcony overlooking the sea with Florida
palms and a strip of beach. A room in a highrise hotel. Jim's
mess is everywhere.

PATRICIA
I can't fucking believe you just
said that!

JIM
Patricia, wouldn't it be better to
have a kid with someone who wanted
to be its father?

PATRICIA
It'd be a fucking genius, that's
what it'd be! You and me. The child
would be a god, goddess!

JIM
It'd be a monster.

A look. She's stunned, ugly wrath gathering. He tries to
soothe her.

JIM
I got this trial dragging on me,
Patricia. I couldn't support the kid --
I can't afford it and I don't want
the responsibility right now.

PATRICIA
You're a COWARD!! A LITTLE BOY!! The
only way you can't afford it is
emotionally. You forgot your vows
man. They were forever in the goddess'
sight. Death doesn't part, only love
Jim!

JIM
Come on Patricia, I was stoned... it
seemed like the fun thing at the
time.

She pulls a dagger with a skull's head on it, goes for him.

PATRICIA
I'm gonna cut your balls off Morrison!

JIM
(that smile)
You want 'em?

PATRICIA
(beat)
FUCK YOU. I'm gonna have the kid.

JIM
Then it'll be your kid. If you want
the abortion I'll pay for it and
I'll come up to New York to be with
you when you have it.

PATRICIA
No you won't.

JIM
Yes I will.

PATRICIA
Bullshit Morrison
(release him, stalks)
You know who you are...
(pause)
NO. What difference does it make.
You know, you never pretended. I
did. I don't even like kids
particularly,
(laughs to herself)
but I don't want the other thing
either. I guess what I really want
is to throw myself off this fucking
balcony
(Hurls the knife out
off the balcony)
Well now that you've fucked the
future, Morrison, have you fucked
everything?...
(cruelly)
Have you looked at yourself in the
mirror. Your stomach...

JIM
(hurt, near tears)
Please don't say those things to me,
Patricia.

She suddenly grasps him, clutching, hunger, lust.

PATRICIA
Fuck me one last time, you worthless
piece of shit.

JIM & DOORS
...the scream of the butterfly
Come back baby
Back into my arms

On Jim's face.

EXT. MIAMI COURTROOM - DAY

TWO HUNDRED PERSONS are gathered on the lawn outside, banners
decrying the Doors. A MIDDLE AGED SPEAKER, clean cut, squarely
dressed, expresses his outrage.

SPEAKER
(bullhorn)
...endorsed by President Richard
Nixon!
(cheers)
The immoral conduct of degenerates
such as Jim Morrison is an
unacceptable insult to this country
and the principles for which it
stands...

JIM & DOORS
(OVER)
We're getting tired of hanging around
Waiting around with our heads to the ground
I hear the gentle sound
Very near yet very far
Very soft, yeah, very clear
Come today, come today

JIM
Well uh, it's designed to wear you
down y'know... when that rap sheet
says the "United States of America
versus You" it takes you down day by
day, specially when no one really
gives a shit about, y'know, the First
Amendment that's on trial here...
Nobody says anything about that,
it's just uh did you take your pants
off y'know, I mean that's not what
it's about, it's about freedom, that's
what it's about... but who cares,
right? Freedom exists in a schoolbook.

REPORTER 1
(disinterested)
...but the promoters are cancelling
your shows, will this affect the way
you play?

JIM
Well, I can only open doors, M'am. I
can't drag people thru 'em. I'm no
savior.

REPORTER 2
But you've called yourself a shaman?

JIM
(beat, pained)
Did I? Well, I'll tell ya, my words
stand a far better chance of being
around a hundred years from now than
my waistline.

As he goes into the courtroom, a dolled up REPORTER 1, the
local anchor-lady turns to her camera.

ANCHORLADY
The question that will be answered
today: Did Jim Morrison or did he
not take off his pants last March?
This is...

INT. COURTROOM - THAT DAY

The judge passing sentence, distant, hazy under song. Darkened
shadows across the floor, silhouettes... the world bleak and
white...

JUDGE
James Douglas Morrison, I hereby
sentence you to sixty days of hard
labor in the Dade County Jail and
for public exposure I am sentencing
you to six months of the same, after
which you are to serve two years and
four months of probationary time.
[...]

SECRETARY
(overlapping)
I booked you round trip to New York
for Thursday, Pamela's called six
times, Patricia, Kathy, Judy, Gayle
is pregnant, she says but... you
gotta get straight, honey, go to
sleep, get a massage, go to the
dentist, get a haircut honey, you
gotta cool out...

JOHN
Probably a bath too...

OFFICE BOY
(reading a rock
magazine)
Jesus Jim, this guy really despises
you.

JOHN
...didn't invite us to Woodstock.
Twenty other groups but not...

SIDDONS
What's heavy is the radio stations
pulling us from their playlists. The
big cities -- Philly, Cinci, Chicago,
Detroit -- it's insane! Record sales
suck!

RAY
(with irony, reading
something)
"The band you love to hate".

LAWYER
(2nd Lawyer if
necessary)
We can drag this appeal out for years,
we can keep you out of jail.

JIM
(drinking)
You're drinking with number three.

SIDDONS
Max firmly believes the FBI's behind
it. We're subpoenaing their records --
they had memos on you in Phoenix and
they got you extradicted to Miami
illegally without a felony...

MIKE
A new image -- Jim Morrison as
"Renaissance Man" -- We bring you
back slow, quiet, the beard, elder
of the tribe.

OFFICE BOY
(reading from review)
...like Lennon said "you either grow
with the music or it grows without
you."

ROBBIE
Hey, it was fun.

All the voices merging into one:

VOICES
First Hendrix now Janis Robbie flew
to Hawaii legalities pending
dispositions book in Toronto interview
with PBS renew your diverse license
psychic predictions nine paternity
suits fifty thousand dollar bond
recoup our losses Pamela's shopping
spree with your credit card Morrison
Hotel some-body from film school
mountain of coke in the broom closet
Jac Holzman eight thirty in the
morning remix perform schedule Paul
Rothchild taxes Texas teenyboppers
tomorrow.

Jim, during this, picking up the TV remote, flicking on the
images. The VOICES blending with TV VOICES as he swithes the
channels. The camera moving in on Jim, the VOICES fading.
All we see is Jim. All we hear and see is the TV:

TELEVISION
Chicago Seven in it's tenth day...
Bobby Seale gagged and chained...
(click)
L.A. shootout with Black Panthers...
(click)
Charles Manson indicted for murder
of actress Sharon Tate...
(click)
U. S. ground troops in Laos and
Cambodia...
(click)
Indians still occupying Alcatraz
Island...
(click)
For the My Lai massacre testified
120 villagers shot by American
soldiers in a trench...

The SONG climaxes into an inner scream of madness.

JIM & DOORS
(CONCLUDE)
For the music is your special friend
Dance on fire as it intends
Music is your only friend
Until the end (3)
(SCREAM!)

Silence on Jim.

JIM
(mildly)
I think I'm having a nervous
breakdown.

The sound of wind, the backbeat of LA WOMAN flooding in.

EXT. CHATEAU MARMONT HOTEL - LOS ANGELES - NIGHT

JIM dangles out on the narrow ledge that circumscribes the
20th floor rooftop -- wind blowing thru his wild hair, the
card zooming by like racer lights on Sunset below. The song
LA WOMAN continues born from this renewed feeling of danger.

JIM & DOORS
Well I just got into town 'bout an hour ago
Took a look around, see which way the wind blow
Where the little girls in their Hollywood bungalows

PAM screaming for him to come back from the edge as TOM BAKER
and MIKE and DOG and a CAMERAMAN film in 16mm.

PAM
JIM! PLEASE GODDAMIT!! COME BACK IN
PLEASE!!

JIM yelling back, as he drinks from a pint of whiskey,
enjoying himself enormously.

JIM
Whatcha worried about? I like it out
here.

He feigns a fall.

PAM
NOOOOOO!!

RAY and SIDDONS arrive, terrified, looking for him.

JIM
(laughing at Pam)
Life on the edge baby. Come get me
if you love me baby.

PAM
PLEASE GODDAMIT JIM MORRISON I'M NOT
GONNA KILL MYSELF FOR YOU. GET IN
HERE.

Jim cracking up with laughter. BAKER, drunk and the FILM
CREW love it, swishpanning with a cheap sungun.

MIKE
(dancing)
We got it man! Keep going. Great get
a two shot.

BAKER
GO ON GET OUT THERE PAM.

Pam is sufficiently cracked on her own set of drugs to start
climbing out onto the ledge, skirts blowing in the wind.

PAM
JIM MORRISON GODDAMIT I LOVE YOU I
WANT YOU I NEED YOU.

Jim moving further along the ledge.

JIM
(raw)
YOUR WHOLE LIFE'S BULLSHIT! YOU LOVE
ME THEN COME AND GET ME.

JIM & DOORS
(OVER)
LA Woman (X2)
LA Woman Sunday afternoon (X3)
Drive thru your suburbs
Into your blues (X2)
Into your blue-blue
Blues
Into your blues

Siddons and Ray terrified. Is this the night it's finally
going to end in a suicide plunge? Ray trying to stop Pam,
too late.

RAY
Pam!! Oh shit... get the ambulances
man...

Pam's moving shakily along the ledge, cracked on downers.

Jim watching her come, amazed at her risk.

RAY
(yelling down)
JIM! HELP HER. She's gonna fall.

TOM
Jump!

He watches, does nothing.

JIM
Come on baby, come on.

RAY
(trying another tack)
Jim we gotta finish "LA Woman".

JIM
Don't have an ending Ray.

Reaches his hand out. She is closer. But shaky.

RAY
(white)
They're both gonna die... ARE YOU
HAPPY YOU COCKSUCKERS!!

Ray goes after Tom Baker and the Film Crew. A scuffle.
Yelling, shouting, but down below in the intimacy of the
ledge, blowing out on the edge, the wind and the world and
death. Two crazy children linked on this gothic balcony of
the Chateau reach their hands out for each other.

JIM
Come on baby, come on

PAM
(quoting him)
"...but one, the most beautiful one
of all -- dances in a ring of fire --
"

JIM
(raw singing)
"I see your hair is burning. If they
say I never loved you, you know they
are a liar!"

PAM
"...and throws off the challenge
with a shrug"

JIM
All the poetry has wolves in it Pam!!!

She has never been so concentrated, inching closer to him.
Her heels overhanging oblivion.

PAM
I don't wanna die with you Jim
Morrison, I don't wanna die!

JIM & DOORS
Never saw a woman
So alone (X2)
So alone -- lone lone

JIM
C'mon Pam, this is it! We'll do it
right here! Right now! You and me!

Ray, Tom, Siddons, Mike, Dog, they all watch in horror,
sensing it will happen. They have even stopped filming.
Inches... inches.

He dodges her touch, confused... to the last possible second.
Then SHE'S THERE -- in his arms. Her arms latch around him
and she hugs him with all her wiry soul.

PAM
Jim -- let's go, let's leave this
town! You and me! Never come back.

JIM
(demonic)
We can. Right now. Just one more
step...

PAM
No Jim. I want to LIVE with you. I
want to LIVE with you.

The two lovers huddled together on the ledge. He slips his
head down on her lap, looking up into her eyes with the
strangest tears in his eyes.

JIM
(a poem)
There was preserved in her the fresh
miracle of surprise... clothed in
sunlight restless in wanting dying
of fever married to doubt how it has
changed you how slowly estranged you
solely arranged you beg for your
mercy -- OR -- ...but all will pass
lie down in green grass and smile
and muse and gaze upon her smooth
resemblance to the mating-Queen who
it seems is in love with the horseman
Tomorrow we enter the tomb of my
birth I want to be ready.

On her face -- moved. Pause. LA WOMAN floods in on his smile,
an upbeat surge.

Upstairs, the ONLOOKERS relax. HOTEL MANAGEMENT and COPS are
now rushing up in background.

JIM & DOORS
Mr. Mojo Rising
Mr. Mojo Risin' (X2)

DISSOLVE TO:

EXT. DOORS OFFICE - SANTA MONICA BL. - L.A. - DAY (1970)

There's music rocking from the inside. Cables and baffles
run from the second story down to the rehearsal room on the
first.

JIM & DOORS
Keep on risin'
Got to keep on risin'
Risin' Risin' (X8)

INT. DOORS OFFICE - DAY

The SECRETARIES and STAFF dance to the SOUND rocking thru
the floor.

JIM & DOORS
Well I just got into town about an hour ago
Took a look around, see which way the wind blow

Camera moving thru the offices, past the OFFICE BOY, past
SIDDONS, past the PUBLICIST, etc -- a farewell to the band.

INT. BASEMENT - RECORDING STUDIO - DAY

We see RAY, ROBBIE, JOHN, BOTNICK, a BASS and 2nd RHYTHM
GUITARIST, WIVES, GIRLFRIENDS but no Jim. They're really
driving, the music soars. PAMELA'S hair shaking as she swings
to the beat.

JIM & DOORS
With a little girl in a Hollywood
bungalow
Are you a lucky lady in the City of
Light?
Or just another lost angel -- City
of Night?

INT. TOILET - RECORDING STUDIO - SAME DAY

Wires run into a tiny toilet revealing JIM with headphones
to his ears barking into a dangling mike, one leg propped on
a toilet seat, in a groove. A new, strange, unparalleled
beauty in his voice, hoarser but wiser, haunted by experience
yet joyful as youth, Jim is ironically, at his best.

JIM & DOORS
LA Woman (X2)
LA Woman / Sunday Afternoon (X3)
Drive thru your suburbs
Into your blues (X2)
Into your blue-blue blues

EXT. LOS ANGELES FREEWAY - DAY

MONTAGE: Moving, moving, moving -- all the POVS from fast-
moving CARS travelling with the pace of L.A. Song of freedom,
of escape -- the STRIP, the cars, the freeway, the
BILLBOARDS... farewell L.A.

INT. NEW YORK HOSPITAL ROOM - DAY

Camera creeping towards ANNE O'RIORDAN as she waits, alone
on a white table for the doctor to arrive. Jim never showed
up after all. But on we go.

JIM & DOORS
I see your hair is burning
Hills are filled with fire
If they say I never lov'd you
You know they are a liar (etc)
Never saw a woman
So alone (X2)
So alone lone lone
So alone

EXT. RAY'S HOUSE - VENICE - DAY

JIM drives up in his beaten GTO MUSTANG, top down, bags all
over the place, hops out. Carrying his bulk with grace, knocks
and rings. RIDERS ON THE STORM starting to play over.

INT. RAY'S HOUSE - DAY

DOROTHY opens the door. Jim a stack of presents under his
arm.

JIM
Eek Dorothy! You cut your hair!

DOROTHY
We're trying to have another baby.

JIM
(moving past her)
What -- was your hair getting in the
way?
(she smacks him lightly)
Where are the kids?

EXT. RAY YARD - DAY

He spots them, crossing to the YARD where a CHILDREN'S
BIRTHDAY is in progress -- TWO DOZEN KIDS, a CLOWN acting
out for them. A few parents and friends -- ROBBIE and LYNNE,
their kid, JOHN and his RECENT LADY, their kid...

When the KIDS spot JIM they light up.

JIM
Hey -- am I late or is this the cool
remnant of a dream?

KIDS
(rushing to him)
Eee! Jim! It's Uncle Jim... Come
on... what did you bring me Jim...

JIM
(picks up Robin)
How's my girl! And how's my boy!

They stick a ludicrous printed birthday hat on his head. A
bearded Santa Claus now engulfed with kids, though puffy,
body gone, a literal physical wreck, yet a gentle pathos
about him and still a charisma that the children react to
without thinking. He gives out the presents all over.

JIM
(ad libs)
For you... Pancho gets this one...
Melanie -- yours... Hey Dorothy don't
grab now... open that one, that's
yours... keep your paws off that
now...

As RAY and ROBBIE and JOHN and the others circle him.

JIM
(to Robin, a 5 year
old)
...and to you, princess, from your
Royal servant, James Douglas Morrison
(bows)

As ROBIN, the cutest of them all, a bow in her hair, takes
the package, opens it.

RAY
You wanna hear the new mixes on "LA
WOMAN?"...

JIM
No, I gotta plane to catch.

JOHN
Won't take long man, it's the best
one since "Days".

ROBBIE
We added rain to "Riders", come on.

Jim cocks his head, listening to it playing from an inner
room, his eyes on ROBIN opening the gift -- a beautiful,
ANTIQUE DOLL of an 19th century poet -- rock star, stuffed,
velour jacket, white fluffy lace collar, it could be Byron
or it could be Jim Morrison -- in fact the hair is perfectly
weaved to resemble Jim in his young lion phase -- an ironic
gift, meant from the heart. It stops everybody -- they all
look. A haunted quality to the doll.

KID
Ugh! What's that!

ROBIN
(to Jim)
It's you.

JIM
Forever young...

She kisses him.

ROBIN
Oh it's beautiful... Thank you Uncle
Jim.

INT. RAY'S WORK SPACE - DAY

Off the patio windows of the birthday party, sounds and
sunshine pouring in. The Clown running around, laughter. The
music plays -- BRUCE at the mixing board.

JIM & DOORS
Riders on the Storm (x2)
Into this house we're born
Into this world we're thrown
Like a dog without a bone
An actor out on loan
Riders on the storm

Where we and Jim came in, I guess. Jim drinks from a cognac
bottle straight, foot tapping, enjoying it, knows it's good --
but other things are calling. This is history.

JIM
I gotta admit -- that ain't bad for
four guys who weren't even talking
that day.

Slapping shoulders, shaking hands.

JOHN
You really gonna live in Paris man?

JIM
Yeah John, be anonymous, write a
book: "Observations of an American
While on Trial in Miami".

ROBBIE
I still think we got a couple of
great blues albums in us man.

JIM
I'm pinned man. Everything I do they
got a category for it, y'know.
Freedom's gone.

JOHN
Hey, I'm gonna miss you Jim. I'm
gonna miss the feeling of playing
music with you.

JIM
You can always whip the horses' eyes.
You, John, miss me?

JOHN
More than you think asshole.
(turn away, repressing --
the emotions)

ROBBIE
(walking him to the
garden)
Well far as I'm concerned, Jim, I
made music with Dionysus man. We had
some moments on stage like no one
will ever fucking know.

JIM
(making light)
Yeah, yeah -- and you lay off those
drugs Rob. We're gonna play again
some day.

ROBBIE
Jim -- "do not go gently into that
good night. Rage rage against the
dying of the light".
(he winks goodbye)

The kids running up to grab JIM, pulls him back to the party.

GIRLS
Come 'ere Uncle Jim, we're playing
blind man's bluff...

TIME CUT TO:

EXT. GARDEN - LATER DAY

JIM, a bearded Santa Claus with the birthday hat on his head,
surrounded by the GIRLS and BOYS and DOROTHY shooting a home
movie. They're eating birthday cake but UNCLE JIM is drinking
straight from the cognac bottle -- a strange sight.

JIM
(to Robin)
So what are you gonna be when you
grow up?

ROBIN
I wanna be your wife

He laughs, looks at Dorothy who's shooting him with the Super
8.

JIM
I don't know, can I afford you? Pam
kinda wiped me out with her dress
store y'know...

ROBIN
I'll make my own dresses and you'll
see, I'll be the best wife.

DOROTHY
(nodding)
You'll never be alone Jim.

JIM
(to Dorothy)
You know I've never been happier.
Not as much of a rush as I used to
be in y'know... this is the strangest
life I've ever known.

His eyes on a LITTLE BOY who's walking into the party, sitting
down with the others, ignored, isolated, a birthday cap on
his head. Clothes belong to the 1940's and the face seems
familiar. Jim is not sure, woozy from the cognac. As he fades.
We saw the Boy many years ago in the backseat of the car in
the Arizona desert.

Jim's head falling gently into his folded arms on the table,
the cognac bottle at his elbow, merlin hat on, beard, the
kids laughing, pulling his ears and nose -- he doesn't wake
up.

TIME CUT TO:

As Ray comes over now, rouses him gently.

RAY
Gotta plane to catch man?

Jim coming awake in that instant alert way of his, but
obviously hung over.

JIM
O?... splittling headache from which
the future is made.

Puzzling remark, He gets up, shaky, exits, kids tearing at
him. Goodbyes.

EXT. RAY'S HOUSE - VENICE - TWILIGHT

The beach is behind them, the last of the frisbee players
and dogs, the skaters go by, as we continue to hear RIDERS
from within.

RAY
Is Pam really there in Paris waiting?

JIM
(ironic, head hurts)
Sure. The Count's there so where
else would she be? Gotta try to start
over, without all the hassles, y'know.
I think we can.

RAY
I never knew what you saw in that
nightmare chick man.

JIM
Well she is kinda flakey -- like me.
I mean she's just so vulnerable about
everything. It makes me sad man.
(pause)
But she's always kinda believed in
something about me y'know -- her
little picture of me as the unsung
poet -- and it's a fantasy I kinda
dig y'know, 'stead of the one I live.

RAY
I don't know man, I don't wanna sound
like your old man but you're only
27, you're living like you gotta get
it all in, you gotta slow down man,
you did it, you broke thru to the
other side.

JIM
We didn't break thru Ray, we just
pushed things a little. When you
really break thru, there's nothing
left. No music, no Doors, no God,
nothing -- only a will to power.

RAY
I don't believe that. You were an
American prince, man -- with overbred
genes --
(Jim scoffs, laughs)
No! What could've been Jim? You
could've been President.
(Jim cracks up)
No man! What could've been Jim? We
stood here on this beach on the edge
of the Pacific that crazy summer day
in '65 -- and we knew, you and I, we
knew we were at the edge of the mind.
we were there, man. One planet, one
globe, one mind. Consciousness, we
raised it, we were there.

Jim, not the sentimental type, climbs in his car, amused.

JIM
And now what?

RAY
Now?
(smiles, lethally
sweet)
You've made me into Ishmael. I am
the last survivor of the Pequod. And
I exist only to tell the story of
Ahab who fought the black whale.

JIM
(loves it, laughs)
It was white Ray. You gotta stop
harpin' on that day. I was so ripped
I can hardly remember it.

Ignites engine. Ray leans in, lightening up.

RAY
Hey, what was that poem you once
wrote about two chicks on the pier?

JIM
Come on man, I gotta fly.

RAY
Come on. Just once.

JIM
(VOICE OVER, pulling
out the car)
In that year we had a great
Visitation of energy
Back in those days
Everything was simpler and more
confused
One summer night, going to the pier
I ran into two young girls
The blonde was called Freedom
The dark one Enterprise
We talked
And they told me this story.

As he departs, waving.

RAY
(OVER)
What was the story?

His point of view -- Jim receding into the sun in his mustang --
making a shakey, screeching curve at the bend of the beach.
And he's gone. An ominous ROAR of an AIRPLANE above RAY. --
flying away.

EXT. LOS ANGELES - TWILIGHT

The PLANE flies off into the setting ball of red sun.

INT. RECORDING SESSION (LAST SESSION) - L.A. - DEC.

The bearded POET hunches in his chair, exhausted, clutching
the paper, finished. Pause. He downs a final shot, grunts to
the Indian Ghostman sitting there on a stool watching him in
the corner of the studio. The Ghostman laughs (but nothing
comes out of his mouth). His wrinkled eyes are happy,
feathered ponytail, he nods... pleased.

MORRISON
Well, didja get all that?

GHOSTMAN
You done good, Jim, go now -- rest

The ENGINEER, exhausted, doesn't feel anything funny.

ENGINEER
Yeah, I got it Jim.

The poets face brightens. A small but ever-so-sweet smile of
triumph hikes up the corners of his mouth.

JIM
Aw right. Let's get some tacos!

He stands, sways, than moves out of view. The empty bottle
of whiskey, its sands run out, is left behind.

As we FADE OUT, a hardy, mischievous Morrison laugh and a
ripple of sensuous MUSIC carry us into the lilting, lamenting
strains of AN AMERICAN PRAYER -- THE END without lyrics for
now as we cut to:

INT. PARIS BEDROOM - NEAR DAWN (NIGHT) (1971)

PAMELA is agitated in her sleep -- waking as she feels him
watching. Is that him? At the door? A SHADOW -- leaves.
Footsteps moving down the narrow Parisian corridor with the
creaky floor.

PAM
Jim... that you?

Looks at the time. Somewhere near dawn. The sounds of a bath
being drawn. Nightmare or sleep? She tries to fade back to
sleep but the MUSIC and the WHISPERING prod her, pull her
awake...

DISSOLVE: SAME FACE -- AN HOUR LATER.

Putting her robe on, the slippers, the light... moving. She
is much more ravaged looking than before.

INT. BATHROOM - DAWN

She finds him now... His face floating upwards, angelic eyes,
the beard is now gone, a little smile on his face. He must
be playing another joke. Although she really knows as she
says the words:

PAM
Jim! It was you. I always know when
it's you.
(moving closer)
Come on baby get out of the tub...
mama'll dry you off...
(pause)
Jim Morrison, now you stop joking
you hear me, cut it out!

His face. At peace, as she sobs, the MUSIC cresting to Jim's
lyrics.

PAM
...was it all right Jim, did you
enjoy it when it came my baby? Just
like you said it'd be?

JIM
(OVER)
They are waiting to take us into the
severed garden do you know how pale
and wanton thrillful comes death at
a strange hour? Unannounced unplanned
for like a scaring overfriendly guest
you've brought to bed? Death makes
angels of us all? And gives us wings
where we had shoulders smooth as
raven's claws...

DISSOLVE TO:

EXT. PERE LACHAISE CEMETERY - PARIS - DAY

His face etching into a perfect Alexandrine bust of physical
beauty. The camera moving to reveal, a wintry day, leaves
blowing, the wild cats everywhere in the empty cemetery, the
crumbling tombs, the flowers fresh and dead around Jim's
tomb, the graffiti, wine bottles, Wilde, Bizet, Piaf, Chopin,
Morrison...

JIM
(OVER)
No more money, no more fancy dress
this other kingdom seems by far the
best until its other jaw reveals
incest and loose obedience to a
vegetable law. I will not go I prefer
a feast of friends to the giant
family...

The MUSIC rolling up on:

INT. CORRIDOR & STAGE - LIMBO

Smoke. Some lights. The distant cheers of a CROWD. In slightly
SLOW MOTION, a FIGURE moves down a corridor into a blinding
light of stage and smoke. THREE OTHER SHADOWS are there
waiting -- as the GHOST moves to the microphone in altered
motion.

The AUDIENCE is out there somewhere in the dark -- we sense
they too have become ghosts, as all of us will one day. The
MUSIC continuing up to roll from AMERICAN PRAYER -- THE END --
snatches we annotate.

GHOST ANNOUNCER
Ladies and Gentlemen, from Los Angeles
California -- The Doors!
(ghostly applause)

JIM & THE DOORS
(snatches)
...have you seen the warm progress
under the stars?
Have you forgotten the keys to the
kingdom?
Have you been born yet and are you
alive?
Where is the feast we were promised?
Let's reinvent the gods, the myths
of the ages!
We need great golden copulations

Camera closing past the DOORS to JIM alone, circling the
mike with his dance -- the INDIAN GHOSTMAN jigging, shaman-
like, off to the side -- now levitating above the stage, all
crazy, gawky dancing.

JIM
Well, I'll tell you a story of
whiskey, mystics and men
And about the believers and how the
whole thing began
First there were women and children
obeying the moon
Then daylight brought wisdom and
sickness too soon... the moon is a
dry blood beast
We have assembled inside this ancient
and insane theatre to propagate our
lust for life and flee the swarming
wisdom of the streets we live we die
and death not ends it
(screams in agony)
FATHER HAVE MERCY!!!

Ending with a solitary sing-song croak.

JIM
Bird of prey, bird of prey
Flying high, flying high in the summer
sky
Bird of prey, bird of prey flying
high, flying high gently pass by
Bird of prey, bird of prey flying
high, flying high
Take me on your flight
(pause then)
I will come again down from the wild
mountains

THE SUBTITLE READS "JIM IS SAID TO HAVE DIED OF 'HEART
FAILURE'. PAMELA JOINED HIM THREE YEARS LATER"... HER ASHES
WERE BURIED NEXT TO HIM."

BLACK SCREEN WITH CREDITS

...Let's lighten it up with some good old rock and roll. As
we hear Jim and the Doors running loose on ROADHOUSE BLUES"

JIM & DOORS
ALRITE YEAH YEAH
YOU GOTTA ROLL, ROLL, ROLL
YOU GOTTA THRILL MY SOUL -- ALRITE
ROLL, ROLL, ROLL, ROLL,
A THRILL MY SOUL
A-GOT-A-BEEPA, GONCHA CHUCHNA HOCA
CONK,
A DONTA EATCHA COONA NEECHA BOP-A-
LOOLA, LECHOW, BOMPA KECHOW YESOW
CONK, YEAH
RITE ASHEN LADY (X2)
GIVE UP YOUR VOWS (X2)
SAVE OUR CITY (X2)
RIGHT NOW (X2)
WELL I WOKE UP THIS MORNING I GOT
MYSELF A BEER (X2)
THE FUTURE'S UNCERTAIN THE END IS
ALWAYS NEAR
LET IT ROLL BABY ROLL (X3)
ALL NITE LONG

THE END

Contact | Disclaimer
Copyright © WeeklyScript.com | Scripts Copyright © their respective owners