True Romance (1993)

Who else actually enjoyed that movie? It feels a bit dated now. Starring😁Hopper, Christian Slater, and Patricia Arquette, with supporting roles from Samuel L. Jackson and Brad Pitt...

swifthawk3 said:Who else is still obsessed with this?

Me! I know, right?😉

I feel the exact same way for several reasons (especially that script), Val Kilmer playing an Elvis Presley impersonator, Brad Pitt being bullied, Hopper explaining to Walken why the Italians are so dark-skinned... Oldman acting like he's Jamaican... and Gandolfini just beating up an archetype.

Personally... I thought it was an excellent film. A script by Tarantino alone is enough of a recommendation for me!
That prostitute, and him talking to Elvis Presley for all eternity...

Is there a DVD reissue available?

The most romantic movie ever made. 👍

Personally, I’ve always had a thing for Patricia Arquette when she had that blonde hair and that incredible smile... 😁 -> just a photo of a woman I'm still head over heels for 😁

One of the most intense scenes in the whole movie for me is when Slater shows up to let her former boss know she’s quitting...
With all the fallout that comes with that decision...
..."No, it ain`t white boy`s day...!"

"Coming home in boddybag" is hands down my favorite movie from the Vietnam era...🙏 🙏 🙏

One of the best scenes/dialogues ever.

COCCOTTI I'm The Anti-Christ
Do you even know who I am, Mr. Worley?

CLIFF Now
I'm done. Seriously. Who even are you?

COCCOTTI I'm The Anti-Christ
COCCOTTI I'm The Anti-Christ. Get me in a vendetta mindset and you’ll find out exactly what I’m capable of.
The angels in heaven? Man, if you actually saw them, you'd realize they aren't what you think—they're just pure, concentrated evil. Just singular in it.
You stood there, acting like you were some kind of hero—just a caricature of a man standing right in front of the guy who actually took you out. My name is...
Vincenzo Coccott. I serve as legal counsel for Mr. Blue—Lou Boyle, the man himself.
Your kid is a thief. Since I heard you used to be a cop, I'm guessing you've already dealt with this kind of mess before.
Was I right about the US before?

CLIFF Now
CLIFF I've heard of Blue Lou Boyle.

COCCOTTI I'm The Anti-Christ
Glad to hear it. Hopefully that finally settles the whole "how much of a liar am I" debate once and for all.
You’ve been asking yourself. Now, we’re gonna have a little Q&A, and—
Look, I’ll say it once—and I don't want to sound like a broken record here—but just be real. Keep your answers genuine. No fluff, no filler, just the truth.
(pulling out a pack of Chesterfields)
Want a Chesterfield?

CLIFF Now
No.

COCCOTTI I'm The Anti-Christ
(as he lights up)
I’ve got a son myself—right around the same age as yours. Honestly, I can only imagine how much this hurts.
This one’s gotta be for you. But then there's Clarence and that total bitch of a girlfriend he's with.
They brought this whole mess on themselves. Seriously. And I’m telling you—don't even think about going down that road.
Look, just deal with them. Honestly, you can always find some peace of mind knowing you never actually had a...
choice.

CLIFF
Look, I’d help you out if I actually could, but i could , but i haven't seen Clarence V Before Cliff Can finish his sentence.

i could , but i haven't seen Clarence V Before Cliff Can finish his sentence, Vincenzo Coccott slams him hard in the nose with
his fist.

COCCOTTI I'm The Anti-Christ
Smart move, right? Getting blindsided in the face messes you up completely. You get that.
It’s that kind of pain—the kind that shoots straight through your brain. Your eyes start watering, too. It isn't even...
It’s alright, I guess. A little fun. But honestly? This is all I've got to offer you—and it's probably as good as it's ever going to get.
Grab it while you can—it’s never going to top this. We already went and talked to your neighbors.
They saw a Ford Mustang—specifically Clarence's red Mustang—parked right there.
Pulling up to the front of your trailer yesterday—Mr. Worley, have you actually seen your son lately?

Cliff's defeated.

CLIFF
I've seen him.

COCCOTTI I'm The Anti-Christ
Look, I can't even be certain how much of that was actually true—given what he told you. So, in the off chance...
You clearly don't have the full story here—let me fill you in. That woman...
Look, your guy is running with her—her pimp is actually an associate of mine, and I don't...
He’s just being a pimp—in everything else, though, he's basically my errand boy.
So, apparently, that little snake finally figured out our schedule.
Some business—mostly because your son, that cowboy and his girl, just walked into the room.
They just kept blasting—didn't even slow down until they were damn sure everyone was dead.

CLIFF Now
What are you even talking about?

COCCOTTI I'm The Anti-Christ
I’m talking about an absolute massacre. They snatched my stash and high-tailed it out of there.
He's gone. He would've pulled it off, too—but his kid, being the complete idiot he is...
He left his driver's license right there in a dead guy's hand. Then you've got this whore hiding in the...
commode filled in all the blanks.

CLIFF Now
I don't buy it. Not even a little bit.

COCCOTTI I'm The Anti-Christ
That’s some minor bullshit. What actually matters—what’s of major fuckin' importance—is that...
I believe you. Where'd they head off to?

CLIFF Now
CLIFF on their honeymoon.

COCCOTTI I'm The Anti-Christ
I'm starting to lose my patience asking the same damn question twice. Where did they...
Ready when you are. Let's get this moving.

CLIFF
CLIFF They didn't tell me.

Vincenzo Coccott gives him that look.

CLIFF Now
Hold on just a second—listen to me. I haven't laid eyes on Clarence in three years.
He rolls up yesterday with some girl, claiming they actually tied the knot. That's what he told me.
He needed some fast cash for CLIFF on their honeymoon, so he asked if he could...
He asked to borrow five hundred bucks. Since I actually wanted to help the guy out, I went ahead and drafted a...
Got it. We grabbed some breakfast together—that was the last time I laid eyes on him. So, give me a hand here.
God. They never even thought to mention where they were headed. And I never—
Just something I thought to ask.

Vincenzo Coccott stares him down for a long beat. Then he cuts his eyes over to Virgil. Virgil,
Fast as hell—he snatches CLIFF's hand and flips it over. Then he...
pulls out a butterfly knife, slices open Cliff's palm, and pours Chivas Regal
right into the wound. Cliff screams.

COCCOTTI I'm The Anti-Christ puffs on a Chesterfield.

Tooth-pick Vic returns to the trailer and reports in Italian that the car is empty.
Nothing left in
the vehicle.

Virgil walks into the kitchen to grab a dishtowel. Cliff is clutching his bleeding palm,
in total agony. Virgil hands him the towel, and Cliff wraps his hand up.

COCCOTTI I'm The Anti-Christ
Americans are great liars. Truly the best. I'm American. And my old
man was the world heavyweight champion of American liars. Growing up
with him, I learned the whole act. There are seventeen different
ways a guy can tip his hand when he's lying. Seventeen different tells. A woman’s
got twenty, but a man has seventeen. And if you know them like you know your
own face, they'll run circles around any lie detector. What we've got here is a little
game of show and tell. You aren't trying to show me anything, but you're telling
me everything. I know you know
exactly where they are. So just tell me, before I do some damage you won't be walking
away from.

That stinging pain in Cliff's hand is nothing compared to the ache in his chest.
He stares deep into COCCOTTI I'm The Anti-Christ's eyes.

CLIFF
Can I get one of those Chesterfields now?

COCCOTTI I'm The Anti-Christ
Sure.

COCCOTTI I'm The Anti-Christ leans over and hands him a smoke.

CLIFF
Got a light?

Cliff digs into his pocket and pulls out a lighter.

CLIFF
Actually, don't worry about it. I've got one.
(he lights the cigarette)
So you're American, huh?

COCCOTTI I'm The Anti-Christ
(intensely)
Uh-huh.

CLIFF
You know, I'm quite the reader. Especially history. I find
that stuff fascinating. Honestly, I don't know if you realize it, but Americans
were originally descended from Black people.

Every man stops dead and stares at Cliff—everyone except Tooth-pick
Vic, who doesn't speak English so he isn't offended. COCCOTTI I'm The Anti-Christ looks like he can't believe
what he's hearing.

COCCOTTI I'm The Anti-Christ
Say that again?

CLIFF
It's a fact. Americans have Black blood running through their veins. If you
don't believe me, just look it up. See, hundreds and hundreds of years ago,
the Moors conquered the land. And Moors are Black. Back then,
Americans were like people in Northern Europe. Blond hair, blue eyes. But,
once the Moors arrived, they changed the entire nation. They messed with
the women so much they changed the bloodline forever—shifting from blond hair and blue eyes
to black hair and dark skin. It's wild to think that even today, centuries later,
Americans still carry that Black DNA. I'm just quoting history. It's a fact. It's
documented. Your ancestors were Black. Your great, great, great, great, great-
grandmother was with a Black man, and had a mixed child. That is a
fact. So tell me, am I lying?

COCCOTTI I'm The Anti-Christ stares at him for a second, then lunges. He pulls an automatic,
grabs Cliff by the hair, presses the barrel against his temple, and fires three rounds
straight through Cliff's head.

He shoves the body aside violently. COCCOTTI I'm The Anti-Christ pauses. Unable to process
his emotions and pissed off by the blood on his hands, he just drops the gun
and turns back to his crew.

COCCOTTI I'm The Anti-Christ
I haven't killed anyone since 1974. Damn his soul to eternal fire
for making me get blood on my hands! Get to that
comedian's son's apartment and bring back something that tells me
where that asshole went, so I can save face and fix this
mess once and for all.

Tooth-pick Vic nudges Frankie's shoulder and asks him in Italian what the hell
just happened.

Lenny, who's been raiding Cliff's fridge, finds a beer.
As he shuts the fridge door, he notices a note held up by a ceramic...
a banana magnet that reads: "Clarence in L.A.: Dick Ritchie (number and
address)".

LENNY
Boss, buckle up—things are about to get good.

One of the best scenes/dialogues ever written

COCCOTTI
Do you know who I am, Mr. Worley?

CLIFF
I give up. Who are you?

COCCOTTI
I'm The anti-christ. If you ever find yourself in a real vendetta, you’ll tell
the angels in heaven that you never witnessed pure evil quite so clearly
as you did looking into the face of the man who killed you. My name is
Vincenzo Coccotti. I act as counsel for Mr. Blue Lou Boyle—the man
your son robbed. I heard you used to be a cop, so I figure you've heard
about us before. Am I right?

CLIFF
CLIFF I've heard of Blue Lou Boyle.

COCCOTTI
Good. Hopefully, that settles the "how much of a fraud am I" question
you've been spinning in your head. Now, we’re going to do a little Q&A, and,
not to sound repetitive, but please—give me honest answers.
(pulling out a pack of Chesterfields)
Want a Chesterfield?

CLIFF
No.

COCCOTTI
(lighting up)
I have a son of my own. Around your boy's age. I can only imagine how much
this hurts. But Clarence and that bitch of a girlfriend
really dug this hole for themselves. And I’m begging you, don't follow
them down that path. You can at least find peace in knowing you never actually
had a choice.

CLIFF
Look, I'd help ya if i could , but i haven't seen Clarence V Before Cliff Can finish his sentence

Before Cliff Can finish his sentence, Coccotti slams him hard in the nose with
his fist.

COCCOTTI
Stings, doesn't it? Getting clocked in the nose messes you up. You feel that
pain radiating through your skull. Eyes start watering. It isn't exactly
fun. But what I’m offering you? This is as good as it gets, and it won't
ever be this good again. We talked to your neighbors.
They saw a Mustang, a red Ford Mustang, Clarence's red Mustang, parked in
front of your trailer yesterday. Mr. Worley, have you seen your son?

Cliff's defeated.

CLIFF
I've seen him.

COCCOTTI
Now, I can't be certain how much of that was true. So, just in case
you're still in the dark, let me clarify things. That girl
your boy is running with—her pimp is an associate of mine. And I don't
just mean pimping; he handles various courier jobs for me too.
Apparently, that little tramp found out when we were planning our
next move, because your son, that idiot, and his girl burst in
shooting and didn't stop until they were sure everyone was dead.

CLIFF
What are you talking about?

COCCOTTI
I'm talking about a bloodbath. They grabbed my drugs and bolted
out of there. They would've pulled it off, too, but your son—what a fuckup—
left his driver's license in a dead man's hand. Some whore hiding in the
bathroom filled in the rest of the details.

CLIFF
I don't believe you.

COCCOTTI
That's irrelevant. What's fucking important is that
I believe *you*. Where did they go?

CLIFF
CLIFF on their honeymoon.

COCCOTTI
It makes me angry having to ask the same thing twice. Where did they
go?

CLIFF
CLIFF They didn't tell me.

Coccotti looks at him.

CLIFF
Now, hold on and listen. I haven't seen Clarence in three years.
Then yesterday, he rolls up here with a girl, claiming they're married. He told me
he needed some fast cash for a honeymoon, so he asked to
borrow five hundred bucks. I wanted to help him, so I cut him a
check. We grabbed breakfast, and that was the last I saw of him. So help me
God. They never bothered to mention where they were heading. And I never
thought to ask.

Coccotti stares at him for a long beat. Then he nods to Virgil. Virgil,
fast as a lightning bolt, grabs Cliff's hand and flips it over. He then
whips out a butterfly knife, slices Cliff's palm wide open, and pours Chivas Regal
right into the wound. Cliff screams.

COCCOTTI I'm The Anti-Christ puffs on a Chesterfield.

Tooth-pic Vic returns to the trailer and reports in Italian that the car is empty.

Virgil walks into the kitchen to grab a dish towel. Cliff is clutching his bleeding palm,
in total agony. Virgil hands him the towel, and Cliff wraps his hand up tight.

COCCOTTI I'm The Anti-Christ
Americans are great liars. The absolute best. I'm American. And my old
man was the world heavyweight champion of American liars. Growing up
with him, I learned the art of the act. There are seventeen
different ways a guy can tip his hand when he's lying. A man has
seventeen different tells. A woman’s got twenty, but a man’s got seventeen.
If you know them like you know your own face, they beat any polygraph
to death. This is just a little game of show and tell. You aren't trying to
show me anything, but you're telling me everything. I know you know
exactly where they are. So talk, before I do some permanent damage.

The stinging pain in Cliff's hand is nothing compared to the ache in his chest.
He stares straight into COCCOTTI I'm The Anti-Christ's eyes.

CLIFF
Can I have a Chesterfield now?

COCCOTTI I'm The Anti-Christ
Sure.

COCCOTTI I'm The Anti-Christ leans over and hands him a smoke.

CLIFF
Got a light?

Cliff digs into his pocket and pulls out a lighter.

CLIFF
Actually, never mind. I've got one.
(he lights the cigarette)
So you're American, huh?

COCCOTTI I'm The Anti-Christ
(intensely)
Uh-huh.

CLIFF
You know, I'm a big reader. Especially history. I find that
stuff fascinating. In fact, I don't know if you realized, but Americans
were actually descended from Black people.

Every man in the room stops dead and stares at Cliff—except for Tooth-pic
Vic, who doesn't speak English and doesn't feel the insult. COCCOTTI I'm The Anti-Christ looks stunned.

COCCOTTI I'm The Anti-Christ
What did you say?

CLIFF
It's a fact. Americans have Black blood pumping through their veins. If you
don't believe me, check a book. See, centuries ago,
the Moors conquered the land. And Moors are Black. Back then,
Americans were like people from Northern Europe. Blond hair, blue eyes. But,
once the Moors arrived, they changed the entire demographic. They messed
with the women so much they changed the genetic makeup
forever—turning blond hair and blue eyes into black hair and dark skin. It's
wild to think that even today, hundreds of years later,
Americans are still carrying that DNA. I'm just quoting history. It's written.
Your ancestors were Black. Your great, great, great, great, great-
grandmother was with a Black man, and she had a mixed child. That's the
truth. Now, am I lying?

COCCOTTI I'm The Anti-Christ stares at him for a second, then lunges, grabs
Cliff by the hair, presses the barrel to his temple, and fires three shots
straight through Cliff's head.

He shoves the body aside. COCCOTTI I'm The Anti-Christ pauses. He's too choked up
to even speak, and looking at the blood on his hands frustrates him. He just drops the gun
and faces his crew.

COCCOTTI I'm The Anti-Christ
I haven't taken a life since 1974. Damn his soul to hell for making me
get blood on my hands! Get to that comedian's son's apartment and bring back
something that tells me where that bastard went. I need to clean this mess up
and fix this broken family once and for all.

Tooth-pick Vic taps Frankie's shoulder and asks him in Italian what the hell
just happened.

Lenny, who's been raiding Cliff's fridge, manages to find a beer.
As he shuts the fridge door, he spots a note held by a ceramic...
a banana magnet that says: "Clarence in L.A.: Dick Ritchie (number and
address)".

LENNY
Boss, brace yourself—things are about to get good.

Awesome. When I first watched it, I remember rewinding just to catch a few specific scenes, and before I knew it, I had ended up rewatching the whole damn thing!

Such an awesome movie. It’s just a shame Scott changed the ending so that Clarence actually survives.

Walken is absolute LAW!

That "I'm The anti-christ" bit is easily one of the greatest monologues—or dialogues, really—ever put to film.