"The List" Screenplay written by Peter Layton

FADE IN

INT. LOW-RENT COMEDY CLUB - NIGHT

A sullen crowd sits in a nightclub that would have to take an elevator up to be called a dive.
The MC on stage reads badly from his notes.

MC
Ladies and gentlemen, the kamikaze
comedy of Atom Kershvitz!

To little reaction, ATOM KERSHVITZ, shambles out on stage, all lanky arms and legs, black
clad with dark shades. Sneering, he peers around the club.

KERSHVITZ
You know, if they ever gave the world
an enema, this is where they'd stick
the hose.

DRUNKEN HECKLER
Ah, tell some jokes, asshole!

Kershvitz drops down off the stage, heads towards the tipsy HECKLER.

KERSHVITZ
Like your life story? How your
brother and sister were also your
mother and father. How, at twelve,
your testicles descended...into your neighbour's dog.

Standing over the burly, middle-aged heckler, Kershvitz
leans down, gets in his face.

KERSHVITZ
How Grade Five was the toughest ten
years of your life. How you were your
dad's right hand man, every night.

Kershvitz spins about, heads back to the stage.

KERSHVITZ
And how you ended up being such a
loser that tonight you came here
to make me make you laugh. Me, on
the one year anniversary...

From a jacket pocket, Kershvitz slips out an official looking court document.

KERSHVITZ
...of my divorce.

FEMALE HECKLER
Good! Smart woman!

Shielding his eyes against the spotlight, Kershvitz glares at two women seated nearby.

KERSHVITZ
Who said that? The fat one or the
ugly one?

Kershvitz ignores the scattered boos and cat-calls.

KERSHVITZ
Yeah, Kathy...my ex...the difference
between her and a
computer was that
sometimes a computer
goes down. Here, Kathy, have a
banana.

Kershvitz mimes peeling the microphone as if it was a banana, grabs the back of his head,
and shoves himself hard down onto the mike.

FEMALE HECKLER
You wouldn't even get that from me!

KERSHVITZ
Too bad. You'd give a great blow job
with that vacuum between your ears.

Kershvitz resumes pacing about the stage.

KERSHVITZ
Not that I'd know, only life sucks with me now.
I can't even raise a smile since Kathy left me.
She took with her what the rabbi didn't cut off.

MALE HECKLER
When does the comedian come out?

KERSHVITZ
Funny, bitch. Your husband teach you
that? Maybe tonight during sex you'll
be allowed in the room.

Kershvitz lets out a long sad sigh.

KERSHVITZ
Kathy toasted me for that talk show
shmuck...Monty Howes. Shit-for-
talent, used to be a has-been Monty Howes.
Only now she's dumping him too.

Kershvitz drops his head, stares at the floor.

KERSHVITZ
And tonight, I'm doing Monty's show.
The man who took my wife is paying me
her alimony money. How sick is that?

Resting his head against the mike stand, Kershvitz stands still. Tense, uncomfortable seconds pass by slowly.

KERSHVITZ
(whispering)
Sometimes I feel like just doing it.

The total despair and lost hope in his voice silences the crowd, save for a lone drunk.

DRUNKEN HECKLER
Yeah! Go ahead!

Kershvitz snaps his head up, freezes the heckler with a lethal killer look, then smiles like a wolf eyeing a porkchop.

KERSHVITZ
All right.

Dropping off the stage, Kershvitz scoops up a steak knife from a table, heads to the alarmed heckler.

HECKLER
Hey, hey! Easy!

The stunned looking MC waves his arms frantically at a beefy biker bouncer by the door.

MC
Leon! Get 'im!

And big Leon does, rushing up and grabbing the retreating heckler from behind in a hammer-lock, holding his arms up high.

MC
No, no! Not him!

Too late. Kershvitz quickly unzips the heckler's fly.

KERSHVITZ
Revenge! My ounce of flesh!

Kershvitz stabs the knife at the heckler's crotch, just barely restraining himself from castration.
The man drops, clutching his groin, lucky it's still attached. Kershvitz spins to the stunned crowd.

KERSHVITZ
Go home to bed, folks! Your cousins
are waiting for you!

As Kershvitz strides to the door, the furious MC rushes up to him.

MC
Kershvitz! Whaddya, nuts? That guy's
gonna sue you!

Ignoring him, Kershvitz reaches the door, boots it open.

EXT. BACK-ALLEY STAIRCASE - NIGHT

Paying no attention to the rain, Kershvitz shambles up the stairs to the alley behind the underground
club.

MC
I ain't having you back! And I ain't
paying you nothing!

Kershvitz stops, turns.

KERSHVITZ
No. This is what you do. Take my
check, wipe your ass with it, then
send half to my agent, and half to
Kathy.

Kershvitz tips his head back. It's impossible to tell
if rain or tears run down his face.

KERSHVITZ
Cause I really don't care anymore.

INT. NIGHT CLUB - NIGHT

At a pay phone, a MAN plugs his ear against the blaring music, shouts into the receiver.

MAN
Bernie, you got troubles!

INT. LONG CORRIDOR - NIGHT

Cell phone pressed to his ear, BERNIE SHWARTZ runs down a long hallway. Shwartz is
hyper-active enough to re-charge car batteries and he's stressed out into the red zone now.

BERNIE
Oh shit, oh shit...

INT. TV DRESSING ROOM - NIGHT

Seated in front of a soft-lighted mirror, MONTY HOWES dabs on the make-up. Only the
pancake powder gives a healthy glow to his lined, tired face. He jumps at the sudden pounding on his door.

BERNIE'S VOICE
Monty! It's me, Bernie! We got
problems!

Grimacing, Monty reflexively reaches for an antacid solution from the rows of vitamins, painkillers,
and allergy medications.

MONTY
Enter!

Bernie bursts into the dressing room.

BERNIE
It's Kershvitz!

MONTY
What? He's not coming?

BERNIE
No, he is coming. But I heard he
just flipped out at some club, went
nuts on a guy.

Monty smiles thinly, shrugs.

MONTY
That's his shtick.

BERNIE
You know he won't prep for the interview, refuses to do sketches.

Sourly, Monty slaps at the script beside him.

MONTY
I don't blame him.

BERNIE
Monty, why? Kershvitz hates you,
we're live, he could say anything,
do anything.

MONTY
You know why this show is dying,
Bernie?

Monty sprays a mist into his mouth, then pops some heavy duty painkiller pills.

MONTY
Dead guests...corpses I have to blow
the dust and cobwebs off of.
Monty snaps a nicotine chewing gum into his mouth, chews rapidly.

MONTY
But Kershvitz, bless his acid heart,
is alive with bile. I stole his wife.
There'll be sparks, heavy, real tension tonight.

Bernie gestures at the amateur pharmacology shop on the table.

BERNIE
Which you don't need any more of.

MONTY
Oh, I have pains that have no names,
Bernie. A sick mind in a sick body.

A cell phone in the middle of all the drugs and potions rings.
MONTY
Damn. That's either Kathy's lawyer...

The phone rings again.

MONTY
...or my agent.

On the third ring, Monty snatches the cell, hurls it into the wall, which shows dents from previous
calls. Hyper-ventilating, Monty shovels a Prozac down, then immediately counters it with a high
caffeine stimulant.

MONTY
Both who have me by the balls! And
there's nothing I can do about it!

Wheezing, gasping, Monty shakes an asthma inhaler, sucks on it for dear life.

BERNIE
Easy, Monty, you going to be okay?

Nodding, waving "I'm all right", Monty regains control, puts down the inhaler with a tight smile,
then even manages a bitter laugh.

MONTY
And Kershvitz is in the same boat.
We have the same agent and the same
ex-wife's lawyer screwing us. Maybe
we should just run off, honeymoon together somewhere, huh?

Bernie nods, then awkwardly indicates Monty's hair.

BERNIE
Uh...Monty? Your, uh, um...

Monty spins to the mirror. The force of his cell phone throw has dislodged slightly his lush, thick, rented hair.

MONTY
Oh, great...

Quickly, expertly, Monty adjusts his hairpiece with some spirit gum, glances at Bernie in the mirror.

MONTY
Anyway, whatever happens, don't cut
away, got it?

BERNIE
And if he goes psycho on us?

MONTY
Our second guest is John Kaufmann.
He's a cop, right?

BERNIE
Yeah. He wrote a book.

MONTY
Tell him to bring his gun with his
book. Now beat it, Bernie...

Monty smiles grimly at his rows of medications.

MONTY
...I have to get up and happy for
my dance with the devil.

INT. POLICE STATION OFFICE - NIGHT

Feet up on a desk beside two movie magazines, homicide detective JOHN KAUFMANN shakes
his head at LOUIE, a slovenly bum. Louie holds a newspaper story detailing a woman's murder.

LOUIE
And it was rapture, the power of
playing God with her life.

KAUFMANN
Uh huh. Now, did you rape her before
or after you killed her?

LOUIE
Uh...both. Once before, then again after.

KAUFMANN
She wasn't raped. Louie, Louie, why do
you do this?

LOUIE
Detective Kaufmann, I swear to God,
I murdered that woman.

Kaufmann exhales, then stares hard at Louie.

KAUFMANN
All right. Louie, your confession
puts you under active investigation
for suspicion of murder. Don't leave
town and don't talk to the media.
Got it?

LOUIE
Yes sir. Thank you.

Getting up, Kaufmann puts a strong arm around Louie's
shoulder, leading him to the office door.

KAUFMANN
This will be a long, lengthy
investigation. So while you're
waiting, here, have a freebie.

Kaufmann scoops up the top book from a pile of novels on a corner table, hands
it Louie, who reads the title"Babes 'n' Arms. Pre-teen Perps in South Central Hell.
By LAPD Homicide Detective John Kaufmann."

LOUIE
Wow, this yours?

Kaufmann nods as Louie flips the book over to the back cover photo of Kaufmann in a back alley.

LOUIE
You know, I keep a diary of all my
murders. Maybe...

Steering Louie out, Kaufmann opens the door. Camera flashbulbs suddenly, blindingly explode.

KAUFMANN
Hey!

A half-dozen grinning COPS with flash cameras stand out in the hallway, point pencils at him
like microphones.

COP #1
Is it true you stole your story from
brother officers?

COP #2
Will you be sharing your profits
with them?

KAUFMANN
Yeah, yeah, yeah...you pricks.

But Kaufmann's smiling widely, he's loving it. A big glittery star has been drawn around
DET. KAUFMANN HOMICIDE on the door.

LOUIE
What's going on?

KAUFMANN
Ah, I'm on TV tonight. The Monty
Howes show.

LOUIE
Who?

KAUFMANN
Local, cable, live show. It's a start.

Laughing, one of the cops points at Kaufmann's book in Louie's hand.

COP #1
Guys, guys, look, he's booked another
one.

COP #2
(to Louie)
What did you do to deserve this
punishment?

LOUIE
Multiple serial killings.

Behind Louie, Kaufmann flicks his eyes heavenward, shakes his head, and
sends Louie on his way with a nudge.

KAUFMANN
Okay, Louie, straight home now.
(to cops)
Now I know none of you cheap bastards
have actually bought my book, but
TV is still free. Ten thirty tonight, channel 48.

VARIOUS COPS
Too late. But that's sports. Who
else is on, anyone good?

Rolling his eyes, Kaufmann sighs theatrically.

KAUFMANN
Oh, I'm gonna miss you guys so much.


INT. TV STUDIO, ON STAGE - NIGHT

Jaunty canned show-biz music blares out over studio speakers as an
off-stage ANNOUNCER intones an intro.

ANNOUNCER
Live from the city of Angels it's...
Montyyyyyy....Howes!

Tepid applause from a sparse crowd mixes in pre-recorded applause
and cheers as Monty strides out on stage, a professional smile glued on.

MONTY
No, no, remain calm. Do not rush the stage.
I'll rush the audience.

Monty fakes a charge toward the camera. What laughter there is comes
mainly from Sony equipment.


INT. GREEN ROOM - NIGHT

Kershvitz shuffles into the guest waiting room, flops in a chair beside Kaufmann.

KAUFMANN
Uh, hi. You're Atom Kershvitz? I'm
John Kaufmann.

Kershvitz ignores Kaufmann's outstretched hand, sizes him up from behind the dark glasses.

KERSHVITZ
Kaufmann, huh? Good goose-stepping
German name. Gives Jews like me gas
though.

Kershvitz turns away, slouches lower as he watches Monty on the room monitor.

INT. CONTROL ROOM - NIGHT

One minute into the show and Bernie's sweating. He sits at a control panel in front of
a dozen monitors with a handful of technicians beside him.

BERNIE
Lose the laughs, ready one, take one.

MONTY'S VOICE
Now my first guest is so outrageous,
so controversial, we have men with tranquillizer guns in the wings.
(pausing, mock fear)
They're for me.

Bernie leans forward, clicks open a mike key.

BERNIE
Get Kershvitz ready.

INT. GREEN ROOM - NIGHT

SUE, a young production assistant, walks a little tentatively over to the sullen, brooding
Kershvitz, staring unblinkingly at the TV image of Monty on stage.

MONTY'S VOICE
You see, Atom Kershvitz is to comedy
what, oh, say, Jack the Ripper was to
medicine.

SUE
Mr. Kershvitz? You're on now.

No reaction. Kershvitz sits stone still.

INT. ON STAGE - NIGHT

Seated at his desk, Monty reads off the cue cards by the main camera.

MONTY
So, ladies and gentlemen, get ready
to duck and cover for the drive-by
comedy of Atom Kershvitz.

Monty looks expectantly off to the side. Nothing happens.

INT. CONTROL ROOM - DAY

Bouncing in his chair, Bernie is all over the mike.

BERNIE
Sue! What's happening? Where is he?

INT. GREEN ROOM - NIGHT

A puzzled Kaufmann watches poor, intimidated Sue pleading with a silent Kershvitz.

SUE
Please, Mister Kershvitz, let's go.
We have to go now.

Bernie's voice can be heard buzzing over Sue's headset. Almost in tears, she looks
helplessly over at Kaufmann. Suddenly, abruptly, Kershvitz vaults to his feet, bolts
out the door, heading for the stage.

SUE
(into head-set mike)
He's coming. But watch out, he's
acting real strange.

INT. CONTROL ROOM - NIGHT

Drumming his hands nervously, Bernie exhales unhappily.

BERNIE
We should've pre-taped this guy.

Bernie flicks his eyes up to a wall clock. Ten-forty. Still a long time to go.

BERNIE
I hate live TV. It should be killed first.

INT. ON STAGE - NIGHT

A tense Monty relaxes slightly as Kershvitz strides onto the stage.

MONTY
Ah, the late Atom Kershvitz...

No handshakes, hugs, or kissy-faces. Kershvitz just falls into the guest chair,
puts his boots up on the glass table before him.

MONTY
Make yourself homely.

Sneering, Kershvitz looks about him, unimpressed.

KERSHVITZ
So this is comedy's black hole, where
jokes go to die. Assisted
suicide with Doctor Monty.

MONTY
Well, perhaps you can--

KERSHVITZ
How's the divorce going?

Monty blinks, smiles nervously.

KERSHVITZ
Kiss your life savings goodbye, man.
She's going to get half, and your
agent has the other half.

MONTY
And the government gets another half.

Monty's tone and smile is light, but under the desk, hidden from the camera, his
fists are clenched tight. And he gets more uncomfortable as Kershvitz stares
intently at his toupee.

MONTY
Are you sizing up my IQ?

KERSHVITZ
No, man, just trying to identify the
dead mammal sleeping on your head.
You missing some carpet at home?

Any tighter and Monty's smile would crack teeth.

KERSHVITZ
You closet skinheads make us Hebrews
nervous. The Ayrans take over, I'm
head shower boy. Here's a towel, you
lost tribe, now hand me your teeth.

Falling silent, Kershvitz abruptly sags back, deflates as if all the air just escaped.

MONTY
Uh, something wrong?

Kershvitz heaves a long, ragged sigh, all hope and life leaving with his breath. It's
tense and still on the set.

MONTY
You all right?

Kershvitz stares at Monty, then smiles thinly.

KERSHVITZ
Got good news for you, Monty.

MONTY
(warily)
Yes?

KERSHVITZ
I'm going to kill myself. And I'm
going to do it on your show.

INT. CONTROL ROOM - NIGHT

Bernie's beyond tense, touch him and he's twang like a tuning fork. He flips open a mike switch.

BERNIE
Next guest! Kaufmann! Now!

INT. ON STAGE - NIGHT

Monty's smile is held on by steel bolt rivets, but he's got the frozen deer in the headlights look
about him.

MONTY
That's...that's not funny.

KERSHVITZ
No, what's not funny is that this
show might die before I do. The
ratings suck, you're one point away
from MCing the donkey and cucumber
show in Tijuana.

MONTY
Atom, please, there's no need--

KERSHVITZ
Hey! I gave you my wife, now I'll
give you my life!

Kershvitz takes a deep breath. So does the audience, it's deathly quiet. Monty deliberately ignores
both the cue card man waving a card introducing the next guest and Sue signaling from off-stage,
a stunned looking Kaufmann beside her.

KERSHVITZ
Two weeks from now, I'll come back
here and commit suicide live on this
stage. But before I do...

Kershvitz slips out his folded piece of paper.

KERSHVITZ
There's three names on this list.
Three people who have hurt me, who
hate me, who would dance on my grave.

A camera zooms in on the paper. Folded over, the three names are can't be read clearly.

KERSHVITZ
Except I'm going to kill them first.

Away from Monty, shielded from the camera, Kershvitz studies the list with cold, dead eyes.
Monty's perma-frost smile is fading and sickly.

MONTY
You...you can't be serious.

Kershvitz stares Monty down, his grim nod finally killing off the show-biz grin.

MONTY
But...you can't do that.

It's very quiet, dead quiet. All eyes are on Kershvitz as he tucks the list away in his pocket.

KERSHVITZ
Oh, I can. And as my final act of
comedy, I'm going to kill them in
funny ways. They'll die laughing.

Kershvitz suddenly leaps to his feet. Monty jumps back, with real fear, but Kershvitz walks off
the stage, never looking back. A wide-eyed Monty stares at him every step of the way.

EXT. EXIT DOOR INTO ALLEY - NIGHT

The show's over. Monty and Bernie step past a security guard into an alley. Immediately, Bernie
lights up a cigarette.

MONTY
Those'll kill you, Bernie.

As Monty says this, he's shaking loose tranquilizers from a plastic bottle.

BERNIE
No, that idiot Kershvitz is what'll
kill me!

MONTY
Why? Think you're on his list?

BERNIE
Ah, naw, that's just some sick joke. But he
did it too soon. We were stuck with that
cop for nearly the wholeshow.

MONTY
(groaning)
Don't remind me. I tuned out after
after five minutes.
(muttering)
Like everybody else.
The pair start walking down the alley.

MONTY
But now, Kershvitz...I want tapes of
this sent to ET, tabloids, the net
news guys, everybody. And make
damn sure our logo's on them.

A sudden coughing fit stops Monty, sends him fumbling through his pockets.

MONTY
Bloody smog. Also, get some hype
going for when he comes back.

Bernie stops dead in his tracks.

BERNIE
Comes back? What do you mean comes
back?

At the far end of the darkened alley, headlights snap on.

MONTY
I mean Kershvitz comes back to the
show. Live on the air.

Coming to a parked car, Bernie goes inside close to the wall, Monty outside into the alley.

MONTY
And maybe dead on the air, if we're
really lucky.

An engine roars, a heavy car suddenly accelerates, aiming right at Monty.

BERNIE
Hey! Look out!

Monty jumps, rolls over the hood of the parked car as the speeding long black vehicle
just misses him. Monty lands in a heap at Bernie's feet.

BERNIE
Monty! You okay?

Scrambling to his feet, Monty dusts himself off.

MONTY
Yeah, yeah, I'm fine,
but the son of a bitch
nearly killed me!
You get his number?

BERNIE
No, but Monty, that car--

MONTY
What about the driver? You see him?

BERNIE
No! Monty, that was a hearse!

MONTY
A what?

BERNIE
A hearse! You know, funerals, carries
the body, that's what that car was.
I saw a big coffin in the back!

MONTY
I...I nearly got killed by a hearse?

Despite themselves, both men smile, then burst out laughing as the adrenaline and tension subside.

MONTY
What was his hurry? The guy in the
back late for his funeral?

BERNIE
Maybe business is slow, now they pick
up as well as deliver.

MONTY
Run over by a hearse. That would've
been a funny way to die.

Monty looks at the grinning Bernie.

MONTY
A Kershvitz way to die.

And Bernie's smile disappears.