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The Sex Pistols in ANARCHY IN THE U.K.
Produced by MALCOLM McLAREN
Directed by RUSS MEYER
Screenplay by ROGER EBERT
Original story by MALCOLM McLAREN, ROGER EBERT, RUSS MEYER, RENE DAALDER and RORY JOHNSTON
SECOND DRAFT: JULY 1977
Registered with the WRITER'S GUILD OF AMERICA, WEST, INC.
A MATRIXBEST Production
The Sex Pistols
in
ANARCHY IN THE U.K.
FADE IN:
EXT. THE STREETS OF SOHO - NIGHT
One by one, each alone, we see the FOUR SEX PISTOLS walking along these mean London streets. In CLOSEUPS, each one turns while still walking and addresses THE CAMERA.
STEVE JONES
We don't make music - we make noise.
PAUL COOK
We're so pretty vacant and we don't care.
SID VICIOUS
We like noise - it's our choice.
JOHNNY ROTTEN
We want to destroy the passer-by.
STEVE JONES
Passion ends in fashion.
PAUL COOK
We're the blank generation.
SID VICIOUS
We don't make rock and roll - we make chaos.
JOHNNY ROTTEN
Got a problem, and the problem is you. What you gonna do?
During these closeups, the beat of the TITLE SONG has been insistently ESTABLISHING itself beneath the dialogue. Now the VOCAL begins as we:
CUT TO:
TITLES
MUSIC:
The SEX PISTOLS singing "ANARCHY IN THE U.K."
A MASKED HORSEMAN rides through the streets of contemporary London, past landmarks of the past and present. He is dressed entirely in red, rides a black horse, and carries a black flag: Red and black are the international colors of anarchy. He rides past such familiar places as the Tower, Harrods', Trafalgar Square, Piccadilly Circus, the Victoria Embankment, the Prince Albert Memorial, and what is left of Covent Garden.
The TITLES roll up OVER his ride. They are apparently made up of letters cut from newspapers and magazines, and assembled to give the appearance of kidnap ransom note.
As the final TITLE appears, we:
FADE OUT.
EXT. UNEMPLOYMENT QUEUE - LONDON
The queue winds down a Dickensian back street under grey Skies, and is made up mostly of bitter, morose out-of-work British workingmen.
But mixed in with them is an assortment of out-of-work British eccentrics, who give the queue the potential for becoming a spontaneous side-show. Almost anyone could be waiting along that drab London street; perhaps we see -
A blind beggar with a cup, playing a concertina; two Cockneys running a shell game; a man on a unicycle; people plying such out-dated implements as hula-hoops, paddle-balls and yo-yo's; an artist who must continually move his easel as the line inches forward; dogs chasing cats; old ladies - one with a parrot; an assortment of hookers; a Pakistani family; a chestnut vendor; an exhibitionist, who flashes for the benefit of a phalanx of Japanese tourists; a weight-lifter; kids on roller skates, and others on skate-boards; a motorcycle gang; Teddy boys; men in bowler hats; Butch lesbians; an old judge in a powdered wig - and even a sandwich man, whose sign reads: "Repent for the end is at hand."
A large sign makes the location clear:
UNEMPLOYMENT BENEFITS
Despite the chaotic background activity which the above suggests, a good many of the people waiting in the line are watching the BIRD MAN, a man who has trained birds to do tricks on the back of his dog.
COCKNEY ONE
Not half bad that, is it?
COCKNEY TWO
It's done better with two dogs and no birds.
The Bird Man borrows the HULA HOOPIST'S hoop, and holds it out for his dog to jump through. There is a scattering of unenthusiastic applause, followed by a collection that nets him only a few pennies.
The two Cockney's go into action with their con-game. After conferring clandestinely (so we establish them together), they separate: COCKNEY ONE to mix with the crowd, COCKNEY TWO to walk over to a pile of discarded scrap and pick up two wooden crates.
He stacks one on its end and balances the other over it, forming a makeshift table. Brings out a pack of cards and begins to shuffle them in the air.
COCKNEY TWO
All right, then - where's the Joker? Who knows where the knave is?
Puts the Joker face up on the table. Deals cards on either side of it: A King and a Queen.
COCKNEY TWO (continuing)
There's the little bugger - right in bed between his majesty and the queen! That's right! There he is... and here he goes!
Sweeps up all three cards and deals them out again. Joker, King, Queen. A few of the UNEMPLOYED edge closer. Cockney One remains very much in the b.g., as if unaware of what's going on.
The line inches forward a little. The ARTIST moves his easel. The MOTORCYCLE GANG, straddling their machines, push against the sidewalk with their boots to move their cycles forward.
HOOKER (to Lady with parrot)
Out of work long, then, dearie?
LADY WITH PARROT
Long enough. The last actual employment I had was in your line.
HOOKER
Bloody hell!
LADY (to parrot)
Ain't that the truth, Polly?
The line shuffles ahead slowly, the unemployed in many cases lacking the energy to even look up at the riot of roller-skaters and sidewalk entertainers.
Meanwhile, back at the Cockney's con-game...
Cockney Two now turns all three cards over - establishing the Joker on the left end. Rotates the cards - King to left, Joker to right, Queen out of the middle, King back in the middle, Joker to left, whatever.
COCKNEY TWO
And now who'll tell me where he is? That's it! Where's the Joker? Where is the little fucker?
A COAL MINER is sure he knows.
COAL MINER
On the left.
Cockney Two turns over the card on the left - and it is the Joker. He repeats the process a few times, each time allowing the person guessing to get it right. Now Cockney One edges forward out of the background.
COCKNEY ONE
I'll try it, mate.
COCKNEY TWO
Right you are!
Manipulates the cards again - and Cockney One gets the wrong card! A second time - wrong again. Cockney One seems to be getting mad.
Emboldened, the Coal Miner steps to the front again. Cockney Two again switches the cards around - and again lets the Coal Miner guess correctly! The Miner swells. Cockney One feigns anger.
COCKNEY ONE
I'll lay you five quid I get it right!
COCKNEY TWO
Right, then - right you are! Five quid. Would you hold the money, sir?
The Coal Miner holds both fivers. And again Cockney One guesses wrong - even though the Coal Miner is certain where the Joker is.
The wait grows long and tiresome for the people in line. One man, drunk or very hung over, has passed out leaning against a building, only his forehead making contact with the wall. Others take a dart board with a long cord on it, hang it down his back with the cord suspending it from the top of his head, and, in b.g., as other action continues, throw darts at it.
The BLIND MAN with the concertina plays "Lily Marlene." Two of the MEN IN BOWLER HATS harmonize sadly:
MEN IN BOWLERS
Underneath the lamp-light...
The MAN ON UNICYCLE peddles around behind the ARTIST WITH EASEL and teeters in place, looking over his shoulder at the painting taking place; the ARTIST is drawing a sad-faced clown looking at a tattered Union Jack in his hands.
Back at the Cockney con-game, the two Cockneys have now all but got the Coal Miner set up for the kill. Cockney One tries again to guess where the Joker is...
COCKNEY ONE
Here's another fiver! I'll get the bloody thing this time...
And fails again. So Cockney Two now holds ten quid from Cockney One, and his own five quid. He throws all three bills down on the table.
COCKNEY TWO
All right, then, fifteen quid! Who knows where the joker is? Where's your money, gents? Who can spot the Joker?
The Coal Miner steps forward and throws down five quid.
COAL MINER
I'll bet five.
COCKNEY TWO
Right, then - five quid. Any other takers?
A crowd has gathered. Cockney Two manipulates the cards again - and this time, amazingly, the Coal Miner is wrong! Loses his five quid, which Cockney Two scoops up. The Coal Miner, balanced between anger and confusion, stares at the cards as we:
CUT TO:
INT. LONG BLACK LIMOUSINE
An Austin Princess, approaching the queue, exuding power and mystery. The car is inhabited by PROBY, a man in his mid-30's, who fancies himself the nation's leading and most uncanny Trend Spotter. His motto: Now is Then. He's well-preserved and youthful-looking, and filled with limitless if often inane enthusiasm. He comes on to people as if he'd made a careful study of the Zero Mostel character in "The Producers."
He leans forward and taps on the connecting glass window, addressing his chauffeur.
PROBY
Stop here, please.
The limousine glides to a smooth halt.
For a moment, Proby does nothing more than quietly regard the unemployment queue. Then he reaches down and picks up the ornate speaking-horn of his expensive dictaphone. He turns on the recording machine and clears his throat.
PROBY (continuing)
August ninth. The morning papers report that unemployment in the United Kingdom reached its highest point today since the Great Depression. Thousands of people stood in unemployment queues for the first times in their lives.
He switches off the machine, regards the queue for another moment, and then switches the dictaphone on again.
PROBY (continuing)
Note well: On this same date, whether realized or not, the era of the rock millionaire came to an end. The music of the future, to be engineered by myself: Rock for the downtrodden masses.
(dramatic pause)
Downtrodden rock.
He taps the glass again and nods. The Chauffeur leaps out to open the door for Proby, and we see that even Chauffeur's costumes have undergone budget-cuts in a time of national belt-tightening: The driver wears black pants and shoes, a striped yellow-and-black butler's vest, a too-small leather cap, and nothing else.
Proby, on the other hand, is dressed in a jacket and pants with big, loud checks, as if he were Zero Mostel just come from the opening night of "Springtime for Hitler". (We'll see him later dressed in several other ways; in fashion as in everything else, he's the ultimate eclectic and trend-setter.)
He pauses for a second, surveys the scene, gets out of the limousine and picks up a large battery-powered loud-hailer from the seat. He addresses the multitudes.
PROBY (continuing)
All right then - who's going to be first?
Some of the people in the queue look up in confusion.
PROBY (continuing)
Come on, then - there must be someone here with talent! Who wants to be a star?
The old JUDGE shambles forward.
JUDGE
What's this for, then?
In b.g., others pay more attention.
PROBY
I'm holding auditions!
JUDGE
Where are you from? The B.B.C.?
PROBY
Of course not! I'm Proby! I'm a manager - a star maker! Now who here wants to be rich?
The Judge takes another step forward. He's very old - perhaps 90 or 100. Taking advantage of the silence, he clears his throat, coughs self-consciously, and begins an aged version of Elvis Presley's swivel-hipped routine.
JUDGE (croaking but game)
Well you can do anything You wanna do -
But uh-uh, honey, lay offa my shoes!
Don't you -
Step on my blue suede shoes!
His performance dramatically alters the mood of the scene. People begin to press forward, and the Judge is upstaged by all sorts of people eager to audition for the famous Proby. We see several acts, all of them briefly; as Proby acts as emcee. He spots an Irish-looking workingman.
PROBY
You, then - you look Irish! Irish, right? Let's have a song, then! I never met an Irishman who couldn't sing...
The IRISHMAN complies without further ado.
IRISHMAN
Oh, Danny Boy -
The pipes, the pipes are calling...
PROBY
Right, then...
(already searching the crowd)
How about you, then, dear? What's your line of work?
He addresses a 30ISH WOMAN.
30ISH WOMAN
Bar-maid, when I can find it.
PROBY
What will be your song?
30ISH WOMAN
Won't you be my melancholy baby...
Proby listens, dismisses, moves on in seconds, as the crowd is electrified, pushing forward, each person eager to be the next.
PROBY
What about you, lot?
He speaks to three busty HOOKERS who immediately step forward and form a vocal trio.
THREE HOOKERS (like the Andrews Sisters)
Pardon me, boys...
Is this the Chattanooga Choo-Choo?
In the b.g., the Judge, never admitting defeat, has teamed up with two cronies of about the same age, and now they press forward to upstage the Hookers' act - forming a dance line, with a hand on the elbow in front of them, pumping back and forth like the drive-shaft on a steam locomotive.
THREE OLD MEN
...track number nine! Will she be comin' on time?
This is still not what Proby is looking for. He looks down and sees an ll-year-old GIRL, blonde and dreamlike, who has wandered up to the front without his noticing. Proby scrutinizes her as she stands before him.
PROBY
Want to audition, then?
GIRL (shyly)
Yes, sir.
PROBY (kindly)
But your look is all wrong for these times, dear. It's too upbeat. What we need these days is depression! Gloom! Negativism, anarchy and defeat! That's what sells... here, let me try something...
He hurries over to the ARTIST and snatches up a bottle of black water colors. Hurries backs and blackens the face of the astonished Girl, and then pours paint over her hair and dress, daubing like an action painter - and then reaching over instinctively to grab the blackened cap of a nearby Coal Miner, which he claps on the Girl's head.
In the immediate b.g., still not defeated, the Three Old Men move back and forth.
THREE OLD MEN
Choo! Choo!
Proby, ignoring them, steps back to admire his handiwork with the little Girl.
PROBY
That's more the look! Back to the coal mines! Rock around the industrial revolution! Now sing something for me, dear...
GIRL (timid voice)
Love and marriage...
Love and marriage...
Go together like a horse and carriage!
I can tell ya, brother...
Proby is definitely not scouting for this act.
PROBY
Ah, thanks, dear. Very nice. Very sweet... I'll let you know...
His eyes continue to restlessly scan the crowd, trying to spot the trend of the future.
Just then loud offscreen SOUNDS begin to crash about everyone's ears. We hear breaking glass, overturned ash-bins, clanging fire-alarms, wailing sirens, even gunfire. All activity in the unemployment queue comes to a sudden halt.
SECOND OLD MAN
Sounds like a right proper riot, it does.
JUDGE (nodding eagerly)
Yes! Marvelous! Let there be crime - then there'll be work! I'll have my job back!
Just then the SEX PISTOLS appear on the screen. They're dressed in what could be described as Proto-Punk: The look is definitely different from that of the other people on the line, and yet isn't as well-defined as it will be later on.
They split up to work the line: They're of it, but not in it. STEVE carries his guitar, vaguely suggesting they're into music of some sort. SID VICIOUS goes into his famous Sun-Glasses dance, his hands inverted and placed in front of his eyes to suggest either binoculars or a Batman-style headdress. The Pistols seem amused by the notion that people would stand in line in an unemployment queue at all.
Proby watches, fascinated by their wonderfully Downtrodden look, as they approach the others.
SID VICIOUS (to the Miner)
Why stand in line, you silly twit?
JOHNNY ROTTEN
It's your money - why wait for it?
PAUL COOK
Why don't they provide seating out here?
The crowd grows silent, uneasy, in the face of the attack.
STEVE JONES
They take it with one hand and give it back with the other.
SID VICIOUS
So smash it and take it!
Johnny Rotten sticks out a foot and trips up the Unicyclist, who falls into the arms of the Weight-Lifter.
WEIGHT-LIFTER (to Unicyclist)
Good day!
PAUL COOK (to Blind Beggar)
Seen any good films lately?
Proby's eyes are riveted to the Sex Pistols, who have moved without seeming to toward the front of the crowd.
PROBY (calls)
You lot over there - why don't you audition? You've got exactly the look I'm looking for - right off the streets!
SID VICIOUS
Fuck off, mister!
PROBY
No - I'm serious! Quite serious! I could make you into... make you into a band!
STEVE JONES (to Paul Cook)
He's too late there, isn't he?
PROBY
What do you have to lose by a simple audition? All of these people were happy to sing, or - whatever it was they did...
PAUL COOK
We're happy as we are.
Proby moves forward, determined to have whatever is refused to him.
PROBY
But I can make you stars!
The Sex Pistols slink away. Over their shoulders:
SID VICIOUS
There are too many stars as it is.
JOHNNY ROTTEN
It's more fun being on the dole.
Proby smiles a curious smile, retreating to the limousine.
INT. PROBY'S LIMOUSINE
As before. He again lifts the dictaphone mike to his mouth.
PROBY
August ninth, second recording: The Sex Pistols. Take special note. The Sex Pistols. The... Sex Pistols!
TO BE CONTINUED . . .
_________________
This shit show was free.
~Anthony Allman
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