The Doors Script - Dialogue Transcript

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

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

The Doors Script


  

 

                   

"The movie begins in five moments, "

the mindless voice announced.



 

                   

"All those not seated

must wait for the next show."



 

                   

We filed slowly,

languidly into the hall.



 

                   

The auditorium

was vast and silent.



 

                   

After we'd sat down, it grew dark,

and the voice continued:



 

                   

"The program for this evening isn't

new. You know it through and through.



 

                   

You've seen birth, life and death.

You might recall all of the rest.



 

                   

Did you have a good life

before you died?



 

                   

Enough to base a movie on?"



  

                   

Hey Jim,

it's your birthday, man!



  

                   

Let's finish this another night.



  

                   

Turn the lights down

a little bit more.



  

                   

Hey man, how come

the Doors aren't in on this?



  

                   

No music, no Doors.

Come on, let's roll.



  

                   

Rolling.



  

                   

Is everybody in?



  

                   

Is everybody in?



  

                   

Is everybody in?



  

                   

The ceremony is about to begin.



  

                   

Let me tell you about heartache,

and the loss of God.



  

                   

Wandering, wandering

in hopeless night.



  

                   

Out here in the perimeter

there are no stars.



  

                   

Out here

we're stoned, immaculate.



  

                   

It's beautiful,

look at those clouds.



  

                   

Jimmy, wake up!



  

                   

Come on!



  

                   

What's going on?



  

                   

I don't know.



  

                   

Officer, what happened?

Can we help?



  

                   

No sir,

we've got everything under control.



  

                   

Just a dream, Jimmy,

that's all it is.



  

                   

Just a dream.



  

                   

You got a problem with doors?



  

                   

Waste of time.



  

                   

I followed you from the beach.



  

                   

You followed me? Why?



  

                   

'cause you're the one.



  

                   

Maybe you should meet my old man.

- What's your name?



  

                   

Mine's Jim.

- Pam.



  

                   

Pam and Jim.



  

                   

Who the hell was that?

- I have no idea.



  

                   

Nietzsche said,



  

                   

"All great things must first wear

terrifying and monstrous masks,



  

                   

in order to inscribe themselves

on the hearts of humanity."



  

                   

Listen, children,

to the sound of the Nuremburg night.



  

                   

In the sťance,

the shaman leads a sensuous panic.



  

                   

He acts like a madman,

a professional hysteria.



  

                   

Have you ever seen God? A mandala.



  

                   

A symmetrical angel.



  

                   

We got our final vision by clap.



  

                   

Columbus's groin

got filled with green death.



  

                   

I touched her thigh,

and death smiled.



  

                   

Hey Morrison!



  

                   

Fuck 'em, it's great.



  

                   

It's non-linear, poetic,

it's what Godard stands for.



  

                   

This world. The monster of energy.



  

                   

Without beginning, without end.



  

                   

Likewise, without

increase of income,



  

                   

disclosing nothing.



  

                   

This world,



  

                   

this world is a will to power,



  

                   

and nothing besides.



  

                   

Very pretentious, Jim, not easy

to follow. A little incoherent.



  

                   

Dancing bears, Nazism, masturbation,

what's next?



  

                   

What do you guys think? - Boring!

- It's better than a Warhol picture!



  

                   

No, it was worse!



  

                   

A guy sleeping for   hours!

- There was no political content!



  

                   

You need your art

spoon-fed to you!



  

                   

Right on, man! Let's ask the filmmaker

what he thinks.



  

                   

Mr. Morrison?



  

                   

I quit.



  

                   

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.



  

                   

Come on out for a walk!



  

                   

It's a beautiful night!



  

                   

The vast radiant beach

and cool jeweled moon.



  

                   

Couples, naked, race

down by its quiet side ...



  

                   

... and we laugh

like soft, mad children,



  

                   

smug in the woolly

cotton brains of infancy.



  

                   

Choose, they croon, the ancient ones.

The time has come again.



  

                   

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.



  

                   

"Now I have come again to the land

of the fair, strong and wise.



  

                   

Brothers and sisters

o'er the pale forest.



  

                   

Children of the night,

who among you will run with the hunt?



  

                   

Now night arrives

with her purple legion.



  

                   

Retire now

to your tents and dreams.



  

                   

Tomorrow we enter the town of

my birth. I want to be ready."



  

                   

That's beautiful.



  

                   

Do you like that?

- It's beautiful!



  

                   

I've never read much poetry before.



  

                   

What's a shaman?



  

                   

He's the medicine man of the Indians.



  

                   

He gets into a peyote trance, and



  

                   

he gets deeper and deeper

and has a vision,



   

                   

and the whole tribe is healed.



   

                   

All cultures have a version of it.



   

                   

The Greeks had

theater and gods.



   

                   

The Indians say

the first shaman invented sex.



   

                   

They call him

"The one who makes you crazy."



   

                   

What turns you on?



   

                   

I don't know ...



   

                   

Experience.



   

                   

Freedom.



   

                   

Love.



   

                   

Now.



   

                   

The first time I did acid

I saw God.



   

                   

And I saw a friend of mine,

who was Christ, but he was Judas, too.



   

                   

And I realized that, somehow,

that was the secret of everything.



   

                   

We're all one,

the universe is one.



   

                   

And everything is beautiful.

- I don't know ...



   

                   

I feel most alive

confronting death, experiencing pain.



   

                   

I think you're most alive

recognizing beauty,



   

                   

seeing truth.



   

                   

Does death turn you on?

You love death?



   

                   

Life hurts a lot more.

When you die, the pain's over.



   

                   

"All the poems have wolves in them.



   

                   

All but one.



   

                   

The most beautiful one of all.



   

                   

She dances in a ring of fire



   

                   

and throws off the challenge

with a shrug."



   

                   

That's beautiful.



   

                   

Who did you write that for?



   

                   

I wrote it for you.



   

                   

Try acid, Ray.



   

                   

It's guaranteed.



   

                   

Shit, Morrison!



   

                   

My last trip was a real bummer, man.



   

                   

I never had a bummer on acid.

- I'm trying naturally high now.



   

                   

Whatever works.



   

                   

You making movies at MGM yet?



   

                   

The production head there said to me,



   

                   

"Where's your script?"

And I said "I don't need a script.



   

                   

Godard doesn't use one."

He says, "Great! Who's Godard?"



   

                   

I'm off movies, man.



   

                   

I went out to the desert

and got lost.



   

                   

I've been livin up on Trick's rooftop.



   

                   

Got stuck on a chick.

- What else you doing?



   

                   

Writing.

Songs, poems, stuff like that.



   

                   

You're writing songs?



   

                   

Let me hear one.



   

                   

I'm shy.

- Sing it to me. - I can't sing.



   

                   

You sing better than Dylan.



   

                   

Well let me hear your words.



   

                   

Let's swim to the moon.



   

                   

Let's climb through the tide.



   

                   

Penetrate the evening,



   

                   

that the city sleeps to hide.



   

                   

Let's swim out tonight,

love,



   

                   

it's our turn

to try.



   

                   

Parked beside the ocean



   

                   

on our moonlight drive.



   

                   

Those are great fuckin' lyrics, man!



   

                   

You write this?

You got others in here?



   

                   

Yeah,

I have a whole concert in my head.



   

                   

I see a Dionysian scene.

- What happened to you in the desert?



   

                   

Ecstasy and madness!

- Let's start a rock'n'roll band!



   

                   

I got so much stuff, tons of songs.

- Things are gonna explode, Jim!



   

                   

I can feel it. People want to

fight or fuck, love or kill!



   

                   

Vietnam is right out there, man,

sides are being chosen.



   

                   

Everything's going to flame, man,

the planet is screaming for change!



   

                   

We've got to make the myths.

- There ought to be orgies.



   

                   

When Dionysus arrived in Greece,



   

                   

he made all the women mad,



   

                   

leaving their homes

and dancing off into the mountains.



   

                   

There'll be copulations in the street.

- Let's call ourselves "Dionysus!"



   

                   

I've got a name: "The Doors."

- The Doors of your mind. Huxley!



   

                   

"The Doors of Perception."

- Acid. - Great!



   

                   

William Blake, actually: "When the

doors of perception are cleansed,



   

                   

things will appear as they truly are,

infinite." I like it.



   

                   

What's the matter?

- It just doesn't sound right.



   

                   

I know, John. Jim, stay in time.

- Let's try that Bossa Nova beat.



   

                   

I think it's hot.



   

                   

The lyrics are weird, man.



   

                   

You write one, man!



   

                   

We need more songs anyway.

- I thought it was pretty good.



   

                   

Let's go outside.



   

                   

I came up with something.



   

                   

A-minor and F-sharp ...



   

                   

Pretty good!



   

                   

That's great, Robby, nice changes!

- Got any more lyrics? - Yeah, some.



   

                   

I call it "Light my Fire."



   

                   

To compete with your stuff, it

better be about earth, snakes or fire.



   

                   

Sounds like the Byrds,

but I like it. It's good.



   

                   

A little Latin beat

will do it some justice.



   

                   

Maybe put a long solo over it,

like Coltrane on "My Favorite Things."



   

                   

Let's start again, man.



   

                   

A-minor, B-minor, it's jazz!



   

                   

Is that how it goes?

- No, but I like it.



   

                   

Robby! Hey man ...



   

                   

Can you give me about five minutes?

I got to figure out some kinda intro.



   

                   

Let's let him work.

- Yeah, go to the beach.



   

                   

What do you think about when you play?



   

                   

I dunno.



   

                   

Fish in my fish tank.



   

                   

Hey how about that acid tonight?

- Not me. - Not me either.



   

                   

Right here at Ray's house. Let's see

what trouble we can get into.



   

                   

No way, you always get the chicks.

I get the dogs.



   

                   

Hey, I got it! Come on!



   

                   

I got it, I got the intro, man.

John! Count off from  !



   

                   

[Skipped item nr.    ]



   

                   

Turn around, man. Let them in, Jim!



   

                   

Jim, can I have an autograph?



   

                   

Where do you want it?

- Wherever you want it.



   

                   

Leave it to me,

I can take you all the way.



   

                   

You liked our music?

- I loved it. That's why I'm here.



   

                   

It's dark though. Get some tunes

like Herman's Hermits ...



   

                   

That shit goes right to the radio.

- I'm here to groove on my boyfriend.



   

                   

We need some real equipment.

- Sign with me, you got equipment.



   

                   

Wherever you want to go, I can

get you there. So what do you say?



   

                   

We'll have a meeting on it. We do

everything unanimously or not at all.



   

                   

The Musketeers.



   

                   

I'm touched. But let me tell you,

Ioyalty don't pay the bills.



   

                   

Think about it

and call me tomorrow. Here's my card.



   

                   

Hey, pay attention,

you could get rich. Dig it?



   

                   

Hey, how old are you?

- Uh,    .



   

                   

Get lost, will you.



   

                   

I'll make this quick and to the point,

and if you repeat it I'll deny it.



   

                   

Drop those guys.



   

                   

Jimmy's got to start facing the crowd.

- He's just getting his confidence.



   

                   

The guy never does what's rehearsed.

- Well how's it feel? - Great, but ...



   

                   

Your looks, your voice, that's what's

gonna sell records and make millions.



   

                   

Call me. I'm right.



   

                   

Do yourself a favor,

call Larry.



   

                   

I don't like a guy

who wears his soul on his face.



   

                   

"Whiskey's" next, man,

I can feel it in my bones.



   

                   

I still think the lyrics are weird.



   

                   

The chicks

really dug you tonight, man.



   

                   

We still got to go one more step.

- Turn around and face the crowd.



   

                   

We'll go to the desert and take

that peyote. - Is that what you're on?



   

                   

It's kicking in!

- Fucking longhair! - It's crazy, man.



   

                   

Come on, man. - I'm not doing acid,

I'm not doing acid. - Peyote, John.



   

                   

Hey, what's a rock'n'roll band for?



   

                   

Let's plan a murder, or

start a religion. More, more, more!



   

                   

I'm into TM, man,

I promised my guru.



   

                   

I'll try it, I'm ready.

Let's go to the desert, let's do it.



   

                   

Who's on next? - Love.

- Arthur Lee, he's cool.



   

                   

I am the Lizard King!

I can do anything.



   

                   

Come on, raise your hand

if you understand.



   

                   

Let's take a poll:

How many of you know you're alive?



   

                   

Bullshit!



   

                   

You're all plastic soldiers

in a miniature dirt war.



   

                   

Come on!



   

                   

How many of you people

know you're alive?



   

                   

How many of you people

know you're really alive?



   

                   

Close your eyes.



   

                   

See the snake?



   

                   

See the serpent appear?

Its head is ten feet long



   

                   

and five feet wide.

He has one red eye and one green eye.



   

                   

He's ...



   

                   

... seven miles long.



   

                   

Deadly.



   

                   

See it? All the history of the world

is on its scales.



   

                   

All people, all actions.



   

                   

We're all just

little pictures on its scales.



   

                   

God!



   

                   

It's big.



   

                   

It's moving,



   

                   

devouring consciousness,



   

                   

digesting power.



   

                   

Monster of energy!



   

                   

It's a monster.



   

                   

We're gonna

kiss the snake on the tongue.



   

                   

Kiss the serpent.



   

                   

But if it senses fear,



   

                   

it'll eat us instantly.



   

                   

But if we kiss it without fear,



   

                   

it'll take us through the garden,



   

                   

through the gate, to the other side.



   

                   

Ride the snake.



   

                   

Till the end of time.



   

                   

I think I'm fucked up, man.

I'm not thinking right.



   

                   

Look at your eyes, man.

You're death.



   

                   

I'm afraid of my father.

I can't be what they want me to be.



   

                   

Maybe you should kill your father.

- I'm in pain, man.



   

                   

I feel the universe functioning, but

I'm still locked inside myself.



   

                   

Instead of oneness,

I feel isolation.



   

                   

But you're alive, Ray.



   

                   

Feel it. - I'm scared, Jim.

- It's beautiful.- I'm still scared.



   

                   

Then use us, John.



   

                   

Use our strength.

Come on in here.



   

                   

That's right.



   

                   

We're a tribe now,

a tribe of warriors.



   

                   

I promise you, promise you, I'll be

with you till the end of time.



   

                   

Nothing will destroy the circle.



   

                   

Ride the snake.



   

                   

Come on!



   

                   

I'm lying, I am afraid.



   

                   

Jim, don't go away!



   

                   

Come dance with me!



   

                   

Where are you going, Jimmy?



   

                   

Jimmy, where are you going?



   

                   

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.



   

                   

He went into the room

where his sister lived, and ...



   

                   

then he ...



   

                   

paid a visit to his brother.

And then he ...



   

                   

He walked on down the hall.



   

                   

And he came to a door.



   

                   

And he looked inside.



   

                   

"Father?" "Yes son?"

"I want to kill you."



   

                   

"Mother?"



   

                   

"I want to ...



   

                   

... fuck you all night, baby!"



   

                   

"Mother, I want to fuck you!"



   

                   

Fuck, fuck oh yeah!



   

                   

Turn him off! Turn his fuckin amp off!



   

                   

He's a great artist!



   

                   

Get out of here! - Kill my father!

- Yeah, kill the father.



   

                   

Fuck my mother! - Nobody's gonna

fuck their mother on my stage!



   

                   

You're outta here! You're not gonna

play! You're never coming back!



   

                   

Come on, man, it's art!



   

                   

It's "Oedipus."



   

                   

Take a look at the future, old man.

We are things to come.



   

                   

Here's your art right there!



   

                   

There's your art!

- This is fucking great, man!



   

                   

We're never gonna work in this town

again. - Quite a night, huh?



   

                   

Hi, I'm Jack Holzmann, I own Elektra

Records. - Is that asshole gonna pay?



   

                   

Listen,



   

                   

if you could record

what you did in there,



   

                   

we'd have something

and make a lot of money.



   

                   

And Rothschild here was born to be

a producer. - You guys were ...



   

                   

... it's Bertold Brecht,

it's cabaret, it's rock'n'roll.



   

                   

I'm really blown away, I'd like to get

you guys into a studio, immediately.



   

                   

Mr. Morrison, how'd you like to come

down from there and go make a record?



   

                   

Sure, why not?



   

                   

Bruce, do you feel it?

- It's bitchin'!



   

                   

An album of killer music in six days.

Six days, baby!



   

                   

Unreal!



   

                   

[Skipped item nr.    ]



   

                   

Name, occupation?

- Bill Siddons, I manage the Doors.



   

                   

Name, occupation?

- Pamela Morrison, ornament.



   

                   

Robby Krieger, guitar player.



   

                   

John Densmore, percussionist,

   years old. Far out, man!



   

                   

Name, occupation?



   

                   

Raymond Daniel Manzarek,

born on  -  -   musician, organist.



   

                   

Name, occupation?

- Uh, Jim.



   

                   

This way, Mr. Sullivan.



   

                   

They're called "The Doors." They have

the No.   single in the country now.



   

                   

"Light Your Fire."

- "Light Your Fire?" - Yes.



   

                   

Now, they're not your usual group, but

they're gonna fit in just fine.



   

                   

No wonder.

"Light My Fire" is No.   .



   

                   

So what's your room number?

- Uh, I'll talk to you later, OK?



   

                   

You've got very serious hair.

- Were you pinching her butt?



   

                   

What about me? - I don't want to

open up that can of worms.



   

                   

Hey handsome, what can I do?

- Some of my worst mistakes have



   

                   

been haircuts. Don't touch it, go away!

I like it just the way it is.



   

                   

Boys!



   

                   

Meet Mr. Sullivan.

- Fellows, fellows, just great!



   

                   

I heard your record "Light That Fire."

- "Light Your Fire."



   

                   

"Light My Fire."

- Good. Great. Fine! Just fine!



   

                   

I just have one little thing,

it's a small thing, but important.



   

                   

The network guys have

a problem with one of your lyrics.



   

                   

"Girl we couldn't get much higher."

You can't say "higher" on network,



   

                   

so they asked

if you could say instead:



   

                   

"Girl, we couldn't get much better."

Can you dig that?



   

                   

How about:

"Girl you couldn't bite my wire?"



   

                   

I don't think

standards and practices would ...



   

                   

And fellows, have a nice big smile

when you get out there.



   

                   

There's no point in being sullen.

- We're kind of a sullen group, Ed.



   

                   

You boys should know that

Mr. Sullivan is considering you



   

                   

for four more shows. You dig?

- We dig. Just give us five minutes.



   

                   

OK. Groovy!

Have a great show!



   

                   

Well?



   

                   

Aw, come on, John.



   

                   

It's just a word, Jim.



   

                   

The Stones changed

when they played here.



   

                   

Why don't you change your name to ...

Sidney or Irving Manzarek?



   

                   

It's just a word.



   

                   

Come on. They're my words,

I don't care, let's just jam.



   

                   

And now,



   

                   

direct from Los Angeles, California,



   

                   

The Doors!



   

                   

Are we OK soundwise,

not too loud? OK.



   

                   

He said it!

He said it on national TV!



   

                   

I can't believe that!



   

                   

What's he doing? What's that?



   

                   

Oh Jesus!

Get off it! You can see his thing!



   

                   

You blew it, you little shit!

You'll never play Sullivan again!



   

                   

OK, can you

just move a step forward?



   

                   

Come on, I know

you love to look at yourself.



   

                   

Great!



   

                   

Let's try something different.

Take your shirt off.



   

                   

You take it off.

- Do you need help?



   

                   

That's good!



   

                   

The camera

is whatever you want it to be.



   

                   

A woman you want to seduce.



   

                   

A man you want to kill.



   

                   

Anything you want.



   

                   

That's nice.



   

                   

Oh, that's great!



   

                   

Do you have any idea

what these pictures can do?



   

                   

One image

controls millions of people.



   

                   

Where are the Doors?

- Right here! Forget the Doors.



   

                   

You're the one they want.

You are the Doors. Come on!



   

                   

Yeah that's good. Be ugly!



   

                   

I love that.



   

                   

Anything you want.



   

                   

There are no restrictions here.



   

                   

Look at yourself.

Fall in love with yourself.



   

                   

You're your own audience now.



   

                   

The want you,



   

                   

worship, love you,



   

                   

adore you.



   

                   

Jim Morrison.



   

                   

The God of Rock and Cock.



   

                   

This is the fun part of my job,

this is history in the making.



   

                   

Let me put it this way: Andy Warhol

is more than an artist. He is art.



   

                   

I think bright people in America

must ask themselves,



   

                   

"Does Andy imitate life,

or does life imitate Andy?"



   

                   

Jim, this is Tom Baker, he's in one

of Andy's Movies: "l, a Man."



   

                   

And this is Count Ruspuli.



   

                   

He's Italian, but he lives in Paris,

from a famous family,     years old.



   

                   

You are great, eh, I see you

at "Ondines" with Hendrix.



   

                   

So cool! So so cool!

- Don't you like the way he talks?



   

                   

He's so cool. - What's your trip?

- No trip. What's yours?



   

                   

Hey I caught your gig at the "Scene."

I thought it was good. It was hot.



   

                   

I like your movies, man.

You've got a great penis.



   

                   

Hey Jim, we're gonna split, why don't

you come with us to get a bite to eat?



   

                   

No, you can't leave, man.

Where's your will to be weird?



   

                   

Look that's Jim Morrison. - No!

- I like the Doors.



   

                   

Let's get out of here.

these people are wacky. - Wacky?



   

                   

Come with me, Andy is waiting in the

bedroom for you. No, no, not now!



   

                   

Do you remember in San Francisco?

- No, not really.



   

                   

This chick here sings with Andy's band

"The Velvet Underground."



   

                   

She says

she can drink you under the table.



   

                   

Hi, I'm Nico.



   

                   

It's so boring tonight.



   

                   

Some of us are going downtown

to a nightclub. You want to come?



   

                   

Elevate your taste in trolls, man.



   

                   

Vodka?



   

                   

I'll race you.



   

                   

You're death.



   

                   

Come on, let's go.



   

                   

Alright, we're gonna go to a club.



   

                   

I met this girl over here.

I think she wants to hang out with me.



   

                   

Don't you guys want

to meet Andy Warhol?



   

                   

To tell you the truth, I could

do without the guy. He's a freak!



   

                   

Come on, we've got a big gig tomorrow.

- Hey, wait a minute!



   

                   

I thought

we were gonna be a rock'n'roll band?



   

                   

The four of us.

- Come on, Jim, this isn't our scene.



   

                   

These people are vampires.



   

                   

Come on, let's make the myths.

Remember?



   

                   

Don't leave!

Come on you guys, not tonight.



   

                   

I don't know what will happen.



   

                   

It might be death.



   

                   

It's not death, man.

Hey I'll see you tomorrow, bro.



   

                   

Don't drink too much.



   

                   

Jimmy, this way.



   

                   

Andy's waiting, this way.

I'll take you to him.



   

                   

Jimmy please. Andy's waiting. Come on.



   

                   

How you doing?



   

                   

Alright!



   

                   

Pretty good!



   

                   

... there was this big show

in Philadelphia.



   

                   

There were so many people.



   

                   

Andy, this is Jim Morrison of the

world-famous Doors musical group.



   

                   

Andy Warhol, of course.



   

                   

We really like your music.



   

                   

How are you doing, Andy?

- Oh great.



   

                   

And there were

so many people at the show.



   

                   

The paintings

were getting crushed,



   

                   

and they had to

take them all down.



   

                   

It looked kind of great ...

- Just a wall.



   

                   

You see, Andy was the art. You should

do a show with just bare walls.



   

                   

We would really love to use you

in one of our movies, Jim.



   

                   

You're such a beauty. - Andy says

everybody will be famous for    days.



   

                   

It would really be great, wouldn't it?



   

                   

I mean ...



   

                   

Just the singer, not the song.

The astronaut,



   

                   

not the voyage.

The trip,



   

                   

not the arrival.

- Somebody gave me this telephone.



   

                   

I think it was Edie, wasn't it.

- It was Edie.



   

                   

Yeah, and she said,



   

                   

I could talk to God with it,

but I don't have anything to say.



   

                   

Here, this is for you.



   

                   

Now you can talk to God.



   

                   

Morrison, come here!



   

                   

Darling, I pay the bills, so I can

talk any languages I want.



   

                   

I think God wants to talk to the bum.



   

                   

Check it out, brother.



   

                   

What are your songs about,

Mr. Morrison?



   

                   

Love, death, travel, revolt.



   

                   

We all write the songs.



   

                   

I'm interested in ...



   

                   

chaos, disorder,



   

                   

especially activities which

seem to have no meaning, like this.



   

                   

How do you feel about being called

the ultimate Barbie Doll?



   

                   

When you say something like that

it's a shortcut to thinking.



   

                   

What about the dreadful reviews

your new poetry book has gotten?



   

                   

I guess they didn't understand.

- Didn't you finance its publication?



   

                   

Have you bothered to read the poetry?



   

                   

I mean, you keep denying that

anything good can come out of L.A.



   

                   

That's a rather provincial attitude.

- Do you believe in drugs?



   

                   

Ich believe in excess.

- What about alcohol?



   

                   

Is that part of the shaman's wisdom?

- It's the American way.



   

                   

We spend more money every year on

alcohol and tobacco than on education.



   

                   

On behalf of British press ... - Where

will you see the Doors in five years?



   

                   

What do you spend all your money on?



   

                   

I believe in a long, prolonged

derangement of the senses,



   

                   

to attain the unknown.



   

                   

Although I live in the subconscious,



   

                   

our pale reason

hides the infinite from us.



   

                   

Are you by any chance

in a trance now, Mr. Morrison?



   

                   

Do you hurt?



   

                   

What?



   

                   

What hurts you the most?



   

                   

What do your parents think

about what you're doing?



   

                   

I don't remember being born. It must

have happened during a blackout.



   

                   

They must have expressed some feeling.



   

                   

To tell you the truth,

they're not living anymore, so ...



   

                   

I don't like to talk about that.



   

                   

Could you at least tell us

how they died?



   

                   

It was a horrible car crash,



   

                   

in New Mexico,

in the   's.



   

                   

My father ran right into a truckload

of Navajos. They were



   

                   

all over the highway bleeding.



   

                   

Their souls,

kind of stirring in the breeze,



   

                   

just leapt into mine.



   

                   

I'm sorry.



   

                   

Mr. Krieger,



   

                   

do you really consider

Mr. Morrison a shaman?



   

                   

Don't worry about it.

It happens to other guys, too.



   

                   

Wanna do some coke?



   

                   

It'll loosen you up.

- Sure, a new thing.



   

                   

Wow, how old is this?



   

                   

That's   th century.



   

                   

Witchcraft!

- Religion, you know.



   

                   

Witchcraft ... witches

are the protectors of the seasons,



   

                   

the goddesses of the grain,



   

                   

and when crossed,



   

                   

destroyers.



   

                   

You ever try drinking blood?



   

                   

What?



   

                   

It works, you know.



   

                   

If you drink it

at 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.



   

                   

  days a year for Dionysus they used

to wander the hills of ancient Greece.



   

                   

The first witches.



   

                   

Clans.



   

                   

Wild women.



   

                   

Looting.



   

                   

Fucking.



   

                   

Eating animals raw.



   

                   

Looking for Dionysus,



   

                   

to tear him to pieces.



   

                   

Where do you ... get the blood?



   

                   

"Blood is the rose

of mysterious union."



   

                   

A symbol of potency.



   

                   

Now you.



   

                   

I can't cut myself. - Don't be such a

child! If I do it, you have to do it.



   

                   

You do it.



   

                   

Come on, Rock God, fuck me!

Fuck me good!



   

                   

What do you want me to do?



   

                   

What can I do, baby?



   

                   

What's the matter, baby?

- Will you die for me?



   

                   

What do you want me to do?

- Maybe I should



   

                   

see a doctor or something.



   

                   

What do you think,

someone from the Freudian philosophy?



   

                   

It happens to other guys too.



   

                   

That's the irony.



   

                   

Girls want my dick,

not my words.



   

                   

It's not so complicated,

it's just sex, you know.



   

                   

I'll never wake up

in a good mood again.



   

                   

It's the hours, and the pressure,



   

                   

to do everything

like it's your last performance.



   

                   

We weren't built to last.

You never know.



   

                   

You're setting yourself up, you know.

- You never know.



   

                   

You're a poet, not a rock star.



   

                   

Do you really know what I am, Pam?



   

                   

You know what poetry is? - You don't

belong on the "Ed Sullivan Show."



   

                   

Who am I?



   

                   

Where is the feast

they promised us?



   

                   

Where is the new wine?



   

                   

Dying on the vine?



   

                   

See, I lied to you.



   

                   

I love fame.



   

                   

I do love fame.



   

                   

Why are you doing this to me? - 'cause

you're there. - And that's gonna help?



   

                   

Maybe if you just put

a little soul in your success.



   

                   

Suck it, Mommy, come on! - Fuck you!

- Hey, where are you going?



   

                   

Where do you think you're going?



   

                   

I love my girl!



   

                   

How many other guys have you

fucked since you been with me?



   

                   

How many dogs

have you fucked?



   

                   

You're the only one who couldn't make

it, you asshole, the only limp dick!



   

                   

Would you die for me?



   

                   

Would you die for me?

- No! Would you die for me? No!



   

                   

Sure!



   

                   

I'd die for anybody.



   

                   

Please! - Would you die for me?

- Yes! - I don't believe you.



   

                   

Say it! - Yes! Yes!

- Die for me. - Yes!



   

                   

Would you die for me? - Yes.



   

                   

I'm just a clown.



   

                   

Am I a clown?



   

                   

I need a home.

- With me.



   

                   

A place to hide.



   

                   

I'm sorry, baby,

we're gonna fuck death away!



   

                   

Come on!



   

                   

Let's fuck death away. Come on.



   

                   

Alright ...



   

                   

An ancient lunatic

reigns in the trees of the night.



   

                   

We've got a serious

problem up here.



   

                   

The fire marshall is not going

to let this concert go on



   

                   

unless you clear the aisles

and go back to your seats.



   

                   

Unless you clear these aisles,

there is no show.



   

                   

Hear the sound of the crowd? - I don't

even like rock bands. They're sleazy.



   

                   

Come on! - You like that?

- Like Nuremburg.



   

                   

Like that?

- Like Germans.



   

                   

Beg!

- I'm begging?



   

                   

Do you want to fuck me, huh?



   

                   

Don't ever fucking lie to me again.

- About what?



   

                   

Your father. Why do you tell me

bullshit like he's dead?



   

                   

He is dead, both of them, dead.



   

                   

If he's so dead,

why was he on the phone when I called?



   

                   

What? - You didn't really think

you'd get away with that, did you?



   

                   

Your father's an admiral in the Navy.



   

                   

He was at the Gulf of Tonkin

when the Vietnam War broke out.



   

                   

Your dad's deputy chief of operations.

Just don't ever lie to me again, OK?



   

                   

What?



   

                   

You shouldn't have done that. - What's

so hard about tracing your records?



   

                   

You went to the University of Florida,

Albuquerque, New Mexico,



   

                   

Arlington, Virginia, Washington D.C.



   

                   

You have a brother and a sister.



   

                   

"Seven miles long, "

it's all in "The End."



   

                   

Where the fuck is Jim?



   

                   

I'm sorry.



   

                   

What did he do?



   

                   

Did he love you?



   

                   

How much?



   

                   

And your mama?



   

                   

Hatred is

a very underestimated emotion.



   

                   

That doesn't matter

anymore, does it?



   

                   

Do you hear them out there?

Are you listening to them?



   

                   

It's you they want now.



   

                   

It's not the Doors.



   

                   

It's not your mother,

or your father's child.



   

                   

It's you.



   

                   

They don't want me,

they want my death.



   

                   

Ripped to pieces.



   

                   

Patricia, just hold me.



   

                   

What are you doing there?



   

                   

Nothing. - OK, both of you out!

No one's allowed backstage.



   

                   

You idiot, don't you know who this is?

- I'm with the band. - Let's go!



   

                   

Hey. Hey pig!

- Fucking hippie! - Fuck you!



   

                   

Mother fucker!



   

                   

They got Jim!



   

                   

What the fuck is going on here?

What are you doing?



   

                   

I'm blind!



   

                   

He's under arrest.

- Are you nuts! - Don't rub your eyes.



   

                   

Come on!



   

                   

Leave him alone.

He doesn't need more shit these days!



   

                   

What do you know

about what he needs?



   

                   

Fuck!



   

                   

Let me tell you about something that

just happened right here in New Haven.



   

                   

This is New Haven, isn't it?

New Haven, Connecticut?



   

                   

United States of America.



   

                   

Is the West really the best,



   

                   

or are you just stoned on weed?



   

                   

"Light My Fire!"

Come on, sing "Light My Fire!"



   

                   

I was with this girl backstage.



   

                   

We wanted some privacy, so ...



   

                   

we went into this shower stall.



   

                   

No, we weren't doing anything,

just talking.



   

                   

All of a sudden,

this little man came in,



   

                   

with a little blue hat

and a little blue suit.



   

                   

And he said,

"What are you doing in there?"



   

                   

And I said, "Nothing."



   

                   

And he said,



   

                   

"Well, you better

get out of there, or ..."



   

                   

"Or what?" I said.



   

                   

And he started pushing me.



   

                   

Yeah, so I started pushing back.



   

                   

He didn't like that.



   

                   

Then he reached behind, and

he pulled out a little can of mace.



   

                   

And he sprayed it

right in my eyes.



   

                   

He fucking blinded me!



   

                   

Why?



   

                   

All because I was alone

in a room with a girl,



   

                   

doing what he'd like to be doing, if

he could only get it up without a gun.



   

                   

In the United States

of America!



   

                   

"Land of the Free,

Home of the Brave."



   

                   

"In God we trust."



   

                   

No, no! Say your thing.

- You've gone too far.



   

                   

The show's over.



   

                   

You've violated state obscenity laws.

You're under arrest.



   

                   

There you go.



   

                   

Get your hands off me, you slaves!



   

                   

This isn't happening to me,

it's happening to you!



   

                   

Let's just say

I was testing the bounds of reality.



   

                   

That's all.

I was curious.



   

                   

I kind of always

preferred to be hated.



   

                   

Like Erich von Stroheim

in the movies:



   

                   

The man you loved to hate.



   

                   

That's meant to be ironic.



   

                   

Like courage wants to laugh.



   

                   

Essentially stupid situations.



   

                   

I go out on stage

and howl for people.



   

                   

In me, they see

exactly what they want to see.



   

                   

Some say 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



   

                   

that always forces me

to blow it at the most crucial moment.



   

                   

I'm a fake hero.



   

                   

A joke that God's played on me.



   

                   

Hey everyone.



   

                   

Pour me my breakfast,

Dolores.



   

                   

What's the matter with Jimbo?

- He's pussy whipped!



   

                   

Jim, eat this, man.



   

                   

We got one last place to go. - Ray's

getting married today, remember?



   

                   

"Alive!" she cried.



   

                   

Ugh, I can't eat that,

it'll make me sick.



   

                   

Gimme a Dos Equis, will you, Dolores?



   

                   

And a "Ramos Fizz!"

- What happened to me last night?



   

                   

You bet me a grand you're gonna walk

on the edge of the      building.



   

                   

Let's go right now. - Complaining

about going home to your sanctuary.



   

                   

We were going to make a fuckin' movie.



   

                   

You bet me a thousand bucks, man.



   

                   

Give him a double.

- A triple.



   

                   

Imagine me and Morrison

in a movie together:



   

                   

two powerful, two Irish,

two-fisted drinking guys



   

                   

in the same movie together.



   

                   

Yeah, I'll direct the shit out of it.

If Dennis Hopper can do it, so can I.



   

                   

We'll all three direct it.

A real road movie, in black and white.



   

                   

We'll call it "Zero."



   

                   

What the fuck ...!

- Fuck off, Morrison, get out of here!



   

                   

Fuckin' jack-off!



   

                   

It's only another    thousand.



   

                   

But I can get the best clothes,

from India, from Morocco, Jim,



   

                   

clothes you couldn't

get anywhere else.



   

                   

And then we could get the richest

people to come, Miles Davis,



   

                   

Sonny & Cher, the Stones ...



   

                   

It could be the best boutique

on La Cienega, Jim.



   

                   

Why don't we have a car?



   

                   

You lost it.

- Yeah but ...



   

                   

Where's the Gravy Train?



   

                   

What's the matter with you?

What are you on?



   

                   

You said you wouldn't drink today.

- No, Ma, I ain't drinkin'.



   

                   

You promised. You're not gonna drink

anymore, are you? - No, Ma, I ain't.



   

                   

And you're gonna change those stinky

leathers you've had on for   weeks?



   

                   

Now I don't know about that.



   

                   

What are you on?



   

                   

Just some low-grade acid,

nothing heavy.



   

                   

God! I cooked! I cooked a duck,

and people are coming, you know.



   

                   

Ray and Dorothy think

we're flaky enough.



   

                   

You said we'd wait until after, and

now you're going to peak before me.



   

                   

No, it's cool, we'll trip and then

we'll eat our feast. - Sure!



   

                   

No! No!



   

                   

I think it's a good thing

about Ray and Dorothy. I do!



   

                   

That ... women are such noble

creatures,they carry on your name



   

                   

with dignity after you die.



   

                   

Are you saying

you want to marry me, Jim Morrison?



   

                   

I think women have basically

a comic approach to life.



   

                   

How can they not? They spend their

lives with big dicks seeking entry.



   

                   

Come on, Ma, I want to look inside.

Like a spy.



   

                   

I'm a spy



   

                   

in the House of Love.



   

                   

I know the dream



   

                   

that you're dreaming of.



   

                   

I know



   

                   

the word



   

                   

that you



   

                   

long to hear.



   

                   

I know



   

                   

your deepest secret fear.



   

                   

I know everything.



   

                   

I love it when you sing to me.

- That's because



   

                   

I'm the poet

and you're my muse.



   

                   

"Lions in the street, roaming,



   

                   

dogs in heat, rabid, foaming.



   

                   

A beast caged in the heart

of the city, rotting



   

                   

in the summer ground. He fled town,

and left chaos and disorder ..."



   

                   

There's the nuptual couple!



   

                   

What am I going to do

about all these papers?



   

                   

Something to drink!



   

                   

Jim! You really need somebody to

organize all this stuff.



   

                   

Your handwriting

is just like a little kid.



   

                   

Look at this! I wonder if William

Blake was ever this disorganized?



   

                   

Honey!



   

                   

You're trying too hard.

- I'm going to be your editor now.



   

                   

Seriously, I'm gonna organize all this

stuff and take out all the f-words.



   

                   

You're trying too hard.

- I'm not. - Yes you are.



   

                   

There's some great poetry here,

some wonderful ideas.



   

                   

Hey, come on in!



   

                   

Hey, dog, how're you doing?

- There's some drinks over there.



   

                   

What am I supposed to do?



   

                   

Who am I supposed to be

around all these people? - Pamela.



   

                   

I brought you something.



   

                   

My girl, that's who.



   

                   

I'm not your girl.



   

                   

I'm not your girl. I know you fuck

everything that touches you.



   

                   

Don't give me that shit!

- Hey, I love my girl.



   

                   

Hey, listen, listen everybody...



   

                   

She's lookin good,



   

                   

and to celebrate ...



   

                   

Patricia, hey!

Pam, do you ...?



   

                   

Have you ... met? She wrote

this great review of my poetry book.



   

                   

Jim, why don't we go eat that turkey?

- Pam, let's go set those plates.



   

                   

Are you Patricia Kennealy?

- You must be Pamela.



   

                   

You actually

put your dick in this woman?



   

                   

Well, sometimes, yeah.



   

                   

I understand, I really do.



   

                   

But don't ever expect that Jim's ever

gonna love you, or take care of you,



   

                   

because you're one of a hundred.

- You don't know when to stop.



   

                   

Look who's talking!



   

                   

I'd like to think that Jim can make up

his own mind about who he loves.



   

                   

Don't kid yourself. He's crazy, but

not that crazy, and he loves me.



   

                   

Let's go check on the sweet potatoes.

- There they go again!



   

                   

It's gonna be one of those dinners.



   

                   

Glad you made it.

Jim, Robby, meet Chuck Vincent.



   

                   

Hey ... - I just have one more thing

to say to you, Jim Morrison:



   

                   

You have ruined

another Thanksgiving!



   

                   

Bastard!

You killed my duck!



   

                   

Pamela, Pamela, please!



   

                   

What did you give to her, eh?



   

                   

Come on Jimmy! - We'll work it out.

It's OK, it's OK, baby.



   

                   

You want to know what murder is?



   

                   

You want a little death?



   

                   

Come on!

You want a little death?



   

                   

Then kill me, come on.

Kill me, come on!



   

                   

Kill me, go on!



   

                   

Come on, give me some death!



   

                   

You killed my duck.



   

                   

You killed my duck.



   

                   

And I'm still killing your fucking

duck. There! Murder! Death!



   

                   

Duck! Dead! Death fucking dead!



   

                   

There, the duck is dead!



   

                   

Will you stop this shit and get sane!

- Don't you ever tell me what to do!



   

                   

Fuck off, Ray!



   

                   

Fuck you, Tom!



   

                   

This party's getting low rent!

Let's split!



   

                   

I guess we're not eating.

- Shit!



   

                   

Fuck it, man,

let's eat this thing!



   

                   

What happened to us, Daddy?



   

                   

There was some beautiful poetry.



   

                   

Come on, honey.

- There was some beautiful poetry.



   

                   

And action!



   

                   

Your mother's here

with your brother.



   

                   

I don't want to see them, Siddons.



   

                   

What do you want me to do with them?

- Do you hear me? - They're waiting.



   

                   

Ladies and gentlemen,

from Los Angeles, California,



   

                   

The Doors!



   

                   

I've been so Ionely,

I miss my girl!



   

                   

Oh hi, I didn't realize you're

entertaining. - Hello, Jimmy.



   

                   

I hope you are cool about this, eh?



   

                   

Don't forget

your smack on the way out.



   

                   

Are we talking about death choices?

- I'm just doing my thing,



   

                   

just like we said.



   

                   

Death - You're hurting me.

- Hurt? Are you in pain?



   

                   

Well let me introduce you

to my friend "Pain".



   

                   

Fuck you!



   

                   

Oh sanctuary ...

Looking for a place to hide?



   

                   

I'll give you a place to hide.

- From you, you pig. - Forever.



   

                   

Hey, honey,

this is the best part of the trip!



   

                   

Sanctuary? Hold on, baby!



   

                   

Come on, honey, we're almost home!



   

                   

You're blinding me, baby.

Help, I'm blind!



   

                   

That's better.



   

                   

Hey, look out!



   

                   

There's a cop right there, slow down!

- Where? Right there in front of us!



   

                   

By right line, the running line,

by crooked and straight, I summon you.



   

                   

By wood and stone, by wind and fire,

by land and water,



   

                   

I bring you in.



   

                   

We worship the

ancient forces of nature.



   

                   

The Great Mother, the Triple Goddess

and the Horned One, God of the Hunt.



   

                   

Death does not part,

only lack of love.



   

                   

And the vow is forever.



   

                   

I am the Lizard King.



   

                   

I can do anything.



   

                   

Fucking Neanderthal primadonna,

too drunk to fuckin' sing.



   

                   

Cut! Cut!



   

                   

Terrific, Jim, we just



   

                   

had a bit of a technical problem.

- What's his fuckin' problem?



   

                   

Hey, Paul?

- Right here, baby.



   

                   

Suck a fart out of my asshole,

you slave-riving fascist!



   

                   

I hear the booze and the smokes,

but not the voice and not the song.



   

                   

Well maybe because it's stale.

Come on, I want to do my thing!



   

                   

We've got to do a hundred takes

before it sounds like music.



   

                   

Let's do something else.

You're all a bunch of fuckin' slaves!



   

                   

Let's do ...



   

                   

Come on, come on ...



   

                   

"Rock is Dead."



   

                   

Everybody come out here,

we'll do a sing-along!



   

                   

He's too fucking self-conscious.

- Why, because it's my tune?



   

                   

That's it, get these turkeys

out of here. Willie, get 'em out!



   

                   

Are you deaf? Beat it! Let's go!

- See you later



   

                   

What are you doing, Jim?



   

                   

I'm sitting

in that fuckin' booth for months.



   

                   

I look out of that glass:

I see Jim, I hear Jim,



   

                   

But do you know what?

I miss him.



   

                   

And the whole time he's standing right

there in front of me. How can that be?



   

                   

Don't make me go through it again.

I went through this watching Janis



   

                   

dive to the bottom of a bottle

of "Southern Comfort."



   

                   

I won't go through it again!



   

                   

Why are you fucking this up?



   

                   

Catchy tune!



   

                   

You sold it

to a commercial?



   

                   

How much?

-       .



   

                   

Man, we couldn't reach you ...

- What is this shit, Ray?



   

                   

It's not a big deal, man. The song

has already been commercialized.



   

                   

Feliciano's already

sold two million copies.



   

                   

Robby thought it was a good idea.

So did John. So did I.



   

                   

You should've been here!



   

                   

Do you know what you're saying

to millions of people?



   

                   

The Doors, all for one,

one for all. Not real.



   

                   

It's not about money

or records or success,



   

                   

or these desires that you have.

It's about ...



   

                   

... using the music to break through.

Wasn't it, Ray?



   

                   

I don't know.



   

                   

We lost something here, man.



   

                   

I don't think so, Jim.



   

                   

There's just a bigger picture,

that's all.



   

                   

Yeah?

In your fucking face!



   

                   

What the fuck is going on?



   

                   

Just kidding.



   

                   

Oh, hi, honey!



   

                   

We were just

watching a little TV.



   

                   

I wanted you to find us.

It meant nothing.



   

                   

You don't have to torture me.

Just let me make it up to you.



   

                   

It's gonna be all right.



   

                   

You're the one.



   

                   

Really?

- You're my girl.



   

                   

You're so vulnerable about everything,

it makes me sad.



   

                   

Alright, let's keep that

money machine rolling!



   

                   

I love you.



   

                   

A hot night in Miami, March '  . Every

space in the auditorium is taken.



   

                   

Unfortunately,

the Doors have long since sold out.



   

                   

Morrison falls off the stage

at least every other performance.



   

                   

The "Soft Parade" album only confirms

the plasticity of their approach.



   

                   

"Touch Me" and "Tell All The People"

are not the Doors that we once knew.



   

                   

So the question is: Why am I here?



   

                   

Are funerals entertainment?



   

                   

He's not gonna show, man. I know it.



   

                   

This guy's done it too many times.

We should go on without him!



   

                   

Bill is with him.

He'll get him here.



   

                   

There will be a show tonight

if I have to put a wig on



   

                   

and sing them songs myself.



   

                   

Jimbo, clean up your act!

- You're an asshole, but I love you.



   

                   

Hey listen, Paul, can you get us some

heroin? - No! - Why not? - No!



   

                   

Why not? What's some heroin?

- I'm not going to participate



   

                   

in anything that's going to

help you accomplish your goal, Jim.



   

                   

What's my goal?



   

                   

"Your only friend, the end."

- Wrong!



   

                   

I just want to sing the blues, man.



   

                   

Get fat, do nothing,

go nowhere, just be.



   

                   

With that wasteline, Jimbo,

you ain't got much choice.



   

                   

What is wrong with

being a large mammal?



   

                   

A big beast, like a tank, feel great!

- You are "King Crawling Flab."



   

                   

Rock is cock, and your rock is dying.



   

                   

Rock is death, man,

there is no longer a belief.



   

                   

I'll write poetry and direct movies.

- That's bullshit, man!



   

                   

You've tested all the limits:

fame, fucking,



   

                   

money ... what are you gonna do

when the music is over?



   

                   

When you're too fat and old

to go on stage?



   

                   

What are you gonna do for Act  ?

Puke on heaven's door?



   

                   

Listen, you two-bit fucking actor,



   

                   

you underestimate the audience.



   

                   

Face it, Jimmy, you're not going to be

remembered. - You think all they want



   

                   

is two cars and a house.

But you're wrong.



   

                   

Do you know what they want?

- No, tell me.



   

                   

You really wanna know what they want?

- Yeah, tell me. What?



   

                   

Something sacred.



   

                   

That's what they want.

Something sacred.



   

                   

You're   hours late! - Where are the

seats? - I took them out.



   

                   

Hey, how are you doing?

I'd like you to meet my new friend.



   

                   

You're not playing?

- Yeah, we're gonna sue your ass!



   

                   

So sue me! Then we'll see where your

equipment is tomorrow, motherfucker!



   

                   

I'm not going out there until I get

some guarantees that he stays in line.



   

                   

How will you know what

could have been?



   

                   

You're a fucking asshole, Morrison!

You're pushing death!



   

                   

Everyone thinks we're drug addicts.

- What are we the Beatles now?



   

                   

We took drugs to expand our mind,

not to escape.



   

                   

Listen, John.



   

                   

Have you ever eaten the human flesh?

I know this chick in New York ...



   

                   

Hey Rob! It's cool man. Listen:



   

                   

Just one more time.

- No. - For old time's sake.



   

                   

For the Doors, man, you'll play like

an orgasm. Trust me!



   

                   

You said you love pain,



   

                   

but you run from it

every chance you get.



   

                   

I don't wanna see any more of that

shit! Or I'll haul your ass in, pal.



   

                   

Look at this beautiful living thing!



   

                   

You wouldn't eat my little friend,

would you?



   

                   

Love animals,



   

                   

don't eat them. - I'd fuck her,

but she's too young.



   

                   

You're all a bunch

of fucking slaves!



   

                   

How long you think it's gonna last?



   

                   

How long are you gonna

let them push you around?



   

                   

I tell you this,



    

                   

I'm gonna get my kicks before

the whole shithouse goes up in flames.



    

                   

Come on Jim! "Light My Fire!"



    

                   

Fuck you, man.



    

                   

That's the word, the very little word.



    

                   

Come on, let me hear them,

all your little hatreds!



    

                   

You'd all eat shit, wouldn't you?



    

                   

Adolf Hitler is alive and well

and living in Miami.



    

                   

I fucked her last night.



    

                   

What are you gonna do about it?



    

                   

Come on, come on and suck me, babe!



    

                   

Can't you see that

I need some head?



    

                   

Wait a minute! Bullshit!



    

                   

This is fucked up!

It's all bullshit!



    

                   

It's all fucked up!

I'm coming out!



    

                   

Miami Beach, Florida, huh?



    

                   

Hey, I went

to Florida State University.



    

                   

Then I got smart

and moved to California.



    

                   

They're trying to

change the world out in California.



    

                   

I ain't talkin' about no revolution.



    

                   

I'm talkin' about having a

good time this summer.



    

                   

I'm talkin' about love your neighbor

until it hurts.



    

                   

Come on, how about

a little nakedness?



    

                   

Come on,

Let's see some action out there!



    

                   

I'm talkin' about love! Love! Love!



    

                   

I'm talkin' about

grab your neighbor ...



    

                   

... and love 'em. Oh yeah!



    

                   

Anybody want to come up here

and love my ass?



    

                   

Come on, I'm Ionely up here!



    

                   

Come on, sweetheart, you wanna see it?



    

                   

Why don't I pull it out for you,

and shake it around a little bit?



    

                   

Will that do it for ya?



    

                   

Alright now, I'm gonna show it to you.



    

                   

See it?



    

                   

Yeah!

I want to see some action out there!



    

                   

I wanna see some action out there!



    

                   

No limits!



    

                   

No laws! You wanna fuck?

Come on up here! This is your show!



    

                   

No limits, no laws!



    

                   

Where's the guy with the penis?

Where is that son of a bitch?



    

                   

Mr. Morrison,



    

                   

you are charged

with lewd behavior on four counts:



    

                   

simulated masturbation,



    

                   

public drunkenness,



    

                   

profanity,



    

                   

and public exposure.



    

                   

How do you plead?

- Not guilty, your honor.



    

                   

Your honor, there is playing right now

on Broadway a musical called "Hair, "



    

                   

in which the actors disrobe

and appear naked onstage.



    

                   

Objection, your honor, that is

irrelevant. - Sustained.



    

                   

Your honor, how can you sustain that?

- Stick to the facts, counselor.



    

                   

This is a major first amendment

violation by politicians and police.



    

                   

Every witness they have brought here



    

                   

has testified to not actually seeing

my client's genitals. Except one,



    

                   

who is related to the officer.



    

                   

I tell you, if you convict

on such lack of evidence,



    

                   

I assure you, that some day,

in the still of the night,



    

                   

you will wake up screaming.



    

                   

Are you going to get rid of it?



    

                   

Look ...



    

                   

Wouldn't it be better to have it with

someone who wanted to be it's father?



    

                   

A fucking genius, that's what it'd be.



    

                   

From you and me?



    

                   

The child would be

a goddess or a god.



    

                   

It would be a monster.



    

                   

Look ...



    

                   

I got this trial that's hanging on me,

and I can't afford this.



    

                   

I don't want the responsibility.



    

                   

You're a coward,

just a little boy!



    

                   

The only way you can't afford it

is emotionally.



    

                   

Those vows were forever

in the goddess' sight.



    

                   

"Death does not part, only

lack of love." - Come on, Patricia!



    

                   

I was stoned.



    

                   

It seemed like

a fun thing to do at the time.



    

                   

Fuck you!

I'm gonna have the kid.



    

                   

Then it will be your kid.



    

                   

But if you want the abortion,

I'll be there with you.



    

                   

Oh no, you won't! - Yes I will!

- Bullshit! You know who you are!



    

                   

What difference does it make?



    

                   

You never pretended?



    

                   

I did.



    

                   

I don't even

like kids perticularly.



    

                   

But I don't like

the other fucking thing either.



    

                   

Have you looked

in the mirror lately?



    

                   

Look at that stomach.

- Come on ...



    

                   

Don't say those things.



    

                   

James Douglas Morrison,



    

                   

I hereby sentence you



    

                   

to six months of hard labor in Dade

County Jail. And for public exposure,



    

                   

I'm sentencing you to

   days in the same.



    

                   

After which you are to serve two years

and four months of probationary time.



    

                   

Your honor, I have an appellate bond

in the sum of        dollars here.



    

                   

I ask that Mr. Morrison remain free,

pending his appeal.



    

                   

Everywhere, Jacksonville, Dallas,

even Kent State University,



    

                   

cancelled. The press, for the first

time, turned against us. We're fucked.



    

                   

Pam has called six times. Catherine,

Patricia, Judy. Gayle is pregnant.



    

                   

You gotta go to the dentist.



    

                   

Look Jim, go home, get some sleep.



    

                   

And wash your hair.

- Take a bath.



    

                   

This guy really despises us.

- We weren't invited to Woodstock,



    

                   

   other bands, but not us.



    

                   

First Hendrix, now Janis.



    

                   

The radio stations aren't playing us



    

                   

in some big cities:

Philly, Cinci, Chicago, Detroit ...



    

                   

We could drag this appeal out for

years. We can keep you out of jail.



    

                   

The FBI's behind it, Jim.



    

                   

They extradited you

to Miami illegally.



    

                   

A new image:



    

                   

slow, quiet, the beard,

the elder of the tribe.



    

                   

"We want the world,

and we want it now!"



    

                   

My eyes have seen the glory

of the coming of the Lord.



    

                   

The band

you love to hate.



    

                   

It was fun.



    

                   

I think

I'm having a nervous breakdown.



    

                   

Do you hear me, Jim Morrison?

- Life on the edge, baby!



    

                   

We're rolling! Jump!



    

                   

I want you to come back in here

this minute, Jim Morrison.



    

                   

I am not

going to kill myself for you.



    

                   

Your life is bullshit! If you love me,

come on out and get me!



    

                   

Come on baby!

- Jim, gimme your hand.



    

                   

Watch it! Once more with feeling!



    

                   

Take two!



    

                   

I don't want to die. - We're going to

finish writing "L.A. Woman."



    

                   

I don't have an ending, Ray.



    

                   

"All the poetry has wolves in it ...



    

                   

the most beautiful of all ...

... dances in a ring of fire,



    

                   

and throws off

the challenge with a shrug."



    

                   

That's my girl!



    

                   

Let's go! Let's leave this place.



    

                   

Just you and me, baby.



    

                   

We can, you know.



    

                   

Just one more step.



    

                   

No, no, no! I want to live!



    

                   

I want to live with you!



    

                   

"All the poetry has wolves in it, Pam.



    

                   

All but one.



    

                   

The most beautiful of all.



    

                   

I hope you go out smiling.



    

                   

Like a child

into the cool remnant of a dream.



    

                   

The angel man

finally claimed



    

                   

his benevolent soul.



    

                   

Ophelia!



    

                   

Leave sudden in silk.



    

                   

Chlorine dream.



    

                   

Mad, stifled witness."



    

                   

Hi Dorothy, wow, you cut your hair.

- We're trying to have another baby.



    

                   

Was your hair getting in the way?



    

                   

Where's Ray? I got to catch a plane.

- He's upstairs.



    

                   

Where's Princess?

- Out back.



    

                   

We added a rain effect

to "Riders." It's great!



    

                   

It's the best album since "Days."



    

                   

I must admit,



    

                   

pretty good for four guys who weren't

even talking to each other that day.



    

                   

So you're really

going to live in Paris?



    

                   

Yeah, you know,

be anonymous, write a book.



    

                   

"Observations of an American

While on Trial in Miami."



    

                   

You've still got a lot of

good songs in you, man.



    

                   

I still think we've got

a couple of blues albums in us.



    

                   

I'm pinned, man. They got

a category for everything we do.



    

                   

I'm a wanted man.



    

                   

I'm gonna miss you.



    

                   

I'm gonna miss that feeling

of playing music with you.



    

                   

You, John, miss me?



    

                   

More than you think, asshole.



    

                   

We can always

"whip the horses eyes."



    

                   

As far as I'm concerned,



    

                   

I made music with Dionysus.



    

                   

We had moments onstage

that no one will ever fuckin' know.



    

                   

You lay off those drugs, Robby.



    

                   

Hey, Merry Christmas.



    

                   

[Skipped item nr.     ]



    

                   

We'll get together again,

some strange way.



    

                   

Maybe we'll make

a movie together, black and white.



    

                   

Sabrina, this is for you.



    

                   

Morrison, see you around.

- What, no "bon voyage?"



    

                   

I'll see you back.



    

                   

And little Princess Smiling Face,



    

                   

this one's for you.



    

                   

From Chief Mojo Rising.



    

                   

Happy Birthday, Princess.



    

                   

Let me see.

- It's you!



    

                   

Forever young.



    

                   

The strangest life

I've ever known.



    

                   

Jim, got a plane to catch?



    

                   

"We're reaching for death

on the end of a candle.



    

                   

We're trying for something

that's already found us.



    

                   

Last words. Out."



    

                   

Did you get all that



    

                   

I got it, Jim.



    

                   

Come on, let's get some tacos.



    

                   

Death.



    

                   

It's not so bad.



    

                   

I love my girl.



    

                   

Jim?

Jim, is that you?



    

                   

I knew it was you, Jim Morrison.

I always know when it's you.



    

                   

Come on, baby, get out of the tub.

Come on! Mama will dry you off.



    

                   

Just stop joking around, now,

you hear me, just cut it out.



    

                   

Was it all right, Jim?



    

                   

Did you enjoy it

when it came?



    

                   

Just like you said you would?



    

                   

"They are waiting to take us

into the severed garden.



    

                   

You know how pale and wanton thrillful

comes death in the strange hour?



    

                   

Unannounced, unplanned for,



    

                   

like a scaring, over-friendly guest

you've brought to bed.



    

                   

Death make angels of us all,



    

                   

and gives us wings where we had

shoulders smooth as ravens' claws.



    

                   

No more money, no more fancy dress,

this other kingdom seems 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.



    

                   

JIM IS SAID TO HAVE DIED OF HEART FAILURE.

HE WAS 27.

PAM JOINED HIM THREE YEARS LATER ...













  

 
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