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The Doors Movie Script

Writer(s) : Randall Jahnson, Oliver Stone

Genres : Drama

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                                       "THE DOORS"

                                      Screenplay by

                             Randall Jahnson and Oliver Stone

                                      SHOOTING DRAFT

                                           1991

                

               INT. BLACK SCREEN

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

               FADE IN:

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

               EXT. ARIZONA DESERT - DAY (1940'S)

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

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

               CREDITS ROLL, OVER THIS DREAMSCAPE

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

               INT. CAR - DAY

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

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

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

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

               Grandma nudging Jim awake. His eyes open --

               Just as the car turns the bend -- revealing

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

               The first thing Jim sees...

               An old INDIAN FACE staring at him...

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

               Mom's scared face...

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

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

               THE COP WAVING THEM THROUGH

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

               The car pulling away across the giant 1940's landscape

                                                             DISSOLVING TO:

               EXT. ARIZONA DESERT - DAY (1963)

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

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

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

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

               INT. CAR

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

               SONG 
               Riders on the storm (4)

               On the DESERT.

                                                               DISSOLVE TO:

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

               SUBTITLE READS: VENICE, CALIFORNIA 1965

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

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

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

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

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

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

               EXT. VENICE CANAL - DAY

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

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

               EXT. VENICE CANAL - ANOTHER CANAL - DAY

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

                                     JIM
                         Hi...

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

                                     JIM
                         Waste of time...

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

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

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

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

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

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

                                     JIM
                         Later. You got a name?

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

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

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

                                     JIM
                         Mine's Jim.

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

                                     GIRL
                         Pam...

               The ice broken in that instant. Jim smiles.

                                     JIM
                         Jim and Pam, Pam and Jim...

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

                                     YOUNG MAN
                         Who the hell was that?

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

               INT. UCLA SCREENING ROOM - DAY (1965)

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

                                     TRICK
                         Hey it was better'n a Warhol picture.

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

                                     TRICK
                         A guy sleeping for seven hours...

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

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

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

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

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

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

                                     JIM
                         I quit.
                              (walks out)

               EXT. TURKEY JOINT WEST - NIGHT

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

                                     JIM
                         You know what I think?

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

                                     BONES
                         Yeah whadday you think?

                                     JIM
                         You really want to know what I think?

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

                                     BONES
                         Yeah yeah, whatddaya think?

                                     JIM
                         I think we gotta get really ripped!

               INT. TURKEY JOINT WEST - NIGHT

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

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

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

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

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

                                     GIRL
                              (waiting, intrigued)
                         No what?

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

                                     GIRL
                         What!

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

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

               She looks puzzled by the suggestion.

                                     FOOTBALL PLAYER
                         Hey Morrison!

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

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

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

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

               INT. RAY'S CAR - FREEWAY - NIGHT

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

                                     TRICK
                         HE'S GONNA JUMP!

                                     RAY
                         GET HIM BACK IN!

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

               EXT. SPEEDING CAR - NIGHT

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

                                     JIM
                         DEATH OLD FRIEND!!

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

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

               Night. Shadows. A tree. A figure moving.

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

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

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

                                     PAM
                         You're crazy!

               EXT. VENICE CANALS - NIGHT

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

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

               There's a crash. They turn bristling.

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

               EXT. VENICE BOARDWALK - NIGHT

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

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

               EXT. VENICE BEACH - NIGHT

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

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

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

                                     JIM
                         Okay. I promise.

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

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

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

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

                                     PAM
                         I really don't want to know

                                     JIM
                         Come on.

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

               EXT. VENICE BUILDING - NIGHT

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

               EXT. VENICE ROOFTOP - NIGHT

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

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

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

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

                                     PAM
                         Are you a "shaman"?

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

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

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

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

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

                                     PAM
                         Do you love Death?

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

               Pam shivers, a strange thought.

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

                                     JIM
                         I bet your dad's a school teacher.

                                     PAM
                         How did you know!

                                     JIM
                         I don't know.

                                     PAM
                         What was your father?

                                     JIM
                         Military

                                     PAM
                         I bet you moved around a lot.

                                     JIM
                         Yeah, about 8 times.

                                     PAM
                         How many sisters and brothers?

                                     JIM
                         Two.

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

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

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

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

                                     JIM
                         I wrote it for you.

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

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

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

                                                               DISSOLVE TO:

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

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

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

               Jim has approached closer, amused, looking down.

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

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

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

                                     JIM
                         I never had a bummer on acid.

                                     RAY
                         I like naturally high man.

                                     JIM
                         Whatever works. Making movies at MGM 
                         yet?

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

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

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

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

                                     RAY
                         Whatcha been doing?

                                     JIM
                         Writing. Poems. Songs.

                                     RAY
                         Songs? Lemme hear one.

                                     JIM
                         I can't sing.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

                                     JIM
                         ...be great wouldn't it?

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

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

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

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

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

                                     RAY
                         What do we call ourselves. "Dionysus"?

                                     JIM
                         I got a name.

                                     RAY
                         What?

                                     JIM
                         The Doors.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

                                                             DISSOLVING TO:

               INT. RAY'S HOUSE - VENICE BEACH - DAY

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

                                     JIM
                         Got any more lyrics?

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

                                     JIM
                         Don't underestimate Death.

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

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

                                     JOHN
                         We don't need a bridge.

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

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

               John drumming it, different, more Latin.

                                     JIM
                         Pretty good! Pretty neat!!

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

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

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

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

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

               EXT. VENICE BEACH - DAY

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

                                     JOHN
                         Hell NO!

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

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

                                     JOHN
                         Sieg Heil!

               As they head back.

               INT. RAY'S HOUSE - DAY

               TIGHT on RAY like a schoolmaster cueing them.

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

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

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

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

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

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

               DOORS SONG 
               You know that it would be untrue etc.

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

               EXT. LONDON FOG - NIGHT

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

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

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

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

                                     BOUNCER
                         I forgot my list.

               INT. LONDON FOG - NIGHT

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

               INT. BACKSTAGE - THE FOG - THAT NIGHT

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

                                     JIM
                         You love us?

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

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

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

                                     RAY
                         Yeah right, but what about the music?

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

                                     RAY
                         He's just getting his confidence.

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

                                     RAY
                         How does it feel?

                                     JOHN
                         Great, but...

               Pam on payphone calling her friends to come.

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

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

                                     MANAGER
                         Jim, how old are you?

                                     JIM
                         Ah, twenty one...

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

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

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

                                     ROBBIE
                         I still think the lyrics are weird.

               INT. LONDON FOG - NIGHT

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

               EXT. SUNSET STRIP -- THAT NIGHT

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

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

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

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

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

                                     JIM
                         Are you satisfied?

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

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

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

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

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

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

                                     JIM
                         Yeah, Arthur Lee's cool.

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

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

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

                                     GIRL 2
                         And who are you?

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

               Laughter from the GIRLS.

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

                                     JIM
                         Oh yeah what would you do for money?

                                     PAM
                         Let's go Jim, come on.

               Meanwhile DENSMORE is hitting up on GIRL 2.

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

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

                                     JOHN
                         I don't have a phone.

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

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

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

                                     GIRL 1
                         Caprice.

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

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

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

               The crowd giggles. Jim climbs a pole, yells.

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

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

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

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

               EXT. DESERT - DAY

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

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

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

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

                                     JIM
                         Everybody having a good time?

               They hug. She throws up again.

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

               Jim holds his head. Feels the ride.

                                     JIM
                         WOA!! It's fast.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

                                     JIM
                         Die Robbie.

                                     JOHN
                         What the fuck!

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

               Jim looking at her, smiles.

                                     JIM
                         I love you.

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

               Ray has his head buried in his hands.

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

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

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

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

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

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

                                     ROBBIE
                         I'm so fucking scared.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

               He goes, his boots in the sand.

                                     JOHN
                         Jim, where are you going.

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

               Pamela calling from another dune, far away.

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

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

               A BIRD of prey in the sky.

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

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

               FLASHBACKS

               INT. CAR - MOVING - DESERT

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

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

               INT. MORRISON HOME - DAY

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

               EXT. DESERT - DAY

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

               JIM bounds towards the crevice.

               INT. ROCK PALACE - DAY

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

               EXT. CAVE - DAY

               JIM exits the cave.

                                                              MATCH CUT TO:

               INT. WHISKY A GO GO - NIGHT

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

                                     JIM
                         Mother... I want to...

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

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

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

               As the AUDIENCE gasps, shocked, stunned...

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

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

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

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

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

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

               INT. BACKSTAGE WHISKY HALLWAY - THAT NIGHT

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

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

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

               Jerry pinning Jim to the wall,

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

               EXT. ALLEY & STAIRCASE OUTSIDE WHISKY - THAT NIGHT

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

                                     RAY
                              (knows the name)
                         Oh sure, hi.

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

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

               It hangs there. Impossible words.

                                     RAY
                         Yeah?

               John and Robbie sharing looks.

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

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

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

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

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

               Strains of LIGHT MY FIRE cross the cut.

               INT. SUNSET SOUND RECORDING STUDIO - DAY (1966)

               Four-track TAPE SYSTEM is rolling.

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

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

                                     PAUL
                         Hey Bruce, you feel it?

                                     BRUCE
                         I'm having big fun.

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

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

                                     JIM
                         Come on baby, LIGHT MY FIIIRRRREEEE!!!

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

                                     JIM
                              (after song)
                         Pretty good! Pretty neat!

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

               LIGHT MY FIRE continues.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

               PAMELA watching from the side curtain.

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

               OMIT

               Sequence omitted from original script.

               EXT. AIRPORT TARMAC - DAY

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

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

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

               The City as seen by:

               INT. AIRPLANE - DAY

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

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

                                     PAMELA
                              (cutting his food)
                         As compared to what?

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

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

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

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

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

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

               INT. LIMO - NIGHT

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

               INT. CBS BACKSTAGE - THAT EVENING

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

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

                                     SULLIVAN
                         "Light Your Fire"? Is that sooo?

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

               INT. DOORS DRESSING ROOM - EVENING

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

                                     JOHN
                              (indignant)
                         You're gonna cut it!

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

                                     JOHN
                         The kind you get in hotels.

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

                                     RAY
                         I'd rather stay the same color.

                                     HAIRDRESSER
                         Scaredy cat.

                                     ROBBIE
                         What about me?

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

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

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

               On JIM, as they pancake him, reflective.

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

                                     HAIRDRESSER
                              (to JIM)
                         What about you handsome?

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

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

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

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

                                     PRODUCER
                         Boys -- meet Mr. Sullivan

               Mr. Sullivan waves from the doorway.

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

                                     DOORS
                              (ad lib)
                         Oh thanks Mr. Sullivan.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

               SIDDONS reassuring the Producer.

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

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

               Pause.

                                     JOHN
                         Well?

                                     JIM
                         What -- are we the Beatles now John?

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

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

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

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

               INT. STUDIO STAGE - THAT NIGHT

               SULLIVAN stiffly introducing them.

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

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

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

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

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

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

               INT. CONTROL BOOTH (SIMULTANEOUS) - THAT NIGHT

               The PRODUCERS freaking out.

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

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

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

               INT. HOTEL BEDROOM -- NEW YORK - NIGHT

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

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

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

                                     PAM
                         It happens to other guys too...

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

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

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

                                     JIM
                         You should marry an insurance 
                         salesman.

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

                                     JIM
                         We weren't built to last.

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

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

                                     PAM
                         What are you saying!

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

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

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

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

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

                                     JIM
                         Maybe you're the cause!

                                     PAM
                         Right.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

                                     JIM
                         How could I do that

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

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

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

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

                                     PAM
                         NO! WILL YOU DIE FOR ME!!

                                     JIM
                         I'D DIE FOR ANYBODY.

                                     PAM
                         WHAT ABOUT ME! WHAT ABOUT ME!

                                     JIM
                         CUNT CUNT CUNT.

                                     PAM
                         LIAR LIAR LIAR. YOU PROMISED. YOU 
                         PROMISED.

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

               A VOICE across the wall joining in, banging.

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

                                     JIM
                         THEN MOVE TO MIAMI YOU SLAVE!!!

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

                                     JIM
                              (quietly)
                         You were saying?

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

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

                                     PAM
                         Yes yes yes.

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

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

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

                                     PAM
                         ...yes, yes, yes.

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

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

                                     PAM
                         ...yes...

               INT. PRESS CONFERENCE - HOTEL SUITE NEW YORK - DAY

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

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

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

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

                                     JOURNALIST 1
                         Can you define that a little more?

                                     JIM
                         Yeah you can call us erotic 
                         politicians I guess.

                                                           DISSOLVING OVER:

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

                                                           DISSOLVING OVER:

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

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

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

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

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

                                                             DISSOLVING TO:

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

                                                           DISSOLVING OVER:

                                     JOURNALIST 3
                         Do you believe in drugs Mr. Morrison?

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

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

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

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

               DOUBLE IMAGES on the DISSOLVES.

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

                                     JIM
                         Do you hurt?

                                     JOURNALIST 3
                         What?

                                     JIM
                         What hurts you the most?

               He cuts his hair with the scissors. A commotion.

                                     JOURNALIST 3
                         What are you doing?

                                                           DISSOLVING OVER:

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

                                     JOURNALIST 3
                         Are you serious?

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

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

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

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

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

                                     JOURNALIST 4
                         But they must've expressed some 
                         feeling?

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

               Flashbulbs hitting his face at that moment.

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

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

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

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

                                     JOURNALIST 4
                         I'm sorry.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

                                     JIM
                         Great! A new thing.

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

                                     JIM
                         Wow how old is this?

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

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

                                     JIM
                         The Craft?

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

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

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

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

               JIM reappraising her. Her eye contact is very direct.

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

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

                                     PATRICIA
                         You ever try drinking blood?

                                     JIM
                         What?

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

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

                                     JIM
                              (hooked)
                         Where do you get the blood?

               Patricia laughs.

                                                        SUPERIMPOSITION TO:

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

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

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

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

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

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

                                                          SUPERIMPOSITIONS:

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

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

                                                       SUPERIMPOSITIONS TO:

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

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

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

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

                                     PATRICIA
                         Come on...

               Incants him to climax with CELTIC WORDS.

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

                                     PATRICIA
                         Cut me! Cut me go on!

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

                                     PATRICIA
                         Yeah YEAH!

                                     JIM
                         AWRIGHT! AWRIGHT!

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

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

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

                                                               DISSOLVE TO:

               INT. PHOTOGRAPHIC STUDIO - NEW YORK - ANOTHER DAY

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

                                     GLORIA
                         Take off your shirt.

                                     JIM
                              (cow noise)
                         Mooooooo!!!

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

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

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

                                     JIM
                              (pausey, paranoid)
                         Where are the Doors.

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

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

                                     JIM
                              (scared suddenly)
                         We do everything together.

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

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

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

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

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

                                     JIM
                         I am the snake and you are the lute

                                     GLORIA
                         Exactly...

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

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

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

               LIMBO - MAGAZINE COVERS

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

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

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

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

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

               INT. ROOM - LIMBO

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

               PR guy stays there, introduces himself to the count.

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

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

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

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

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

               RAY's face leaning in distorted.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

                                     JIM
                         Nah... later...

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

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

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

                                     JIM
                         I like outer space.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

                                     NICO
                         Your death...

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

                                     ROBBIE
                         She looks too freaky to me.

                                     NICO
                         Wait just a minute.

               As she floats away.

                                     JIM
                         Come on there's pussy Robbie.

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

               Lynne is there, pretty, nods to Jim.

                                     RAY
                         Come on Jim, let's go.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

                                     JIM
                              (looking for Nico)
                         Nico!

               INT. BEDROOM - SAME NIGHT

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

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

                                     PR GUY
                              (butting in)
                         Andy! Andy!

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

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

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

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

               Andy is looking at Jim. Jim at Andy.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

               Nico reappears waving at him to come quickly.

                                     NICO
                         Morrison!

               EXT. NEW YORK STREET - NIGHT (WINTER)

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

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

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

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

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

               INT. HOTEL CORRIDOR (REGENCY) - THAT NIGHT

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

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

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

               INT. ELEVATOR

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

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

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

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

               INT. NEW HAVEN CONCERT HALL - NIGHT (1967)

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

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

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

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

               INT. BACKSTAGE CORRIDOR - SAME NIGHT

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

               INT. SHOWER ROOM - SAME NIGHT

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

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

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

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

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

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

                                     PATRICIA
                         You like that hunh? Beg!

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

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

                                     JIM
                         About what!

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

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

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

               Jim -- a look, struck.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

               Jim describes a small space between thumb and forefinger.

                                     PATRICIA
                         And your mother?

               Jim makes a little larger space.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

                                     JIM
                         Patricia... Patricia...

               A beefy COP stands there looking at them,

                                     COP
                         Whatcha doing there?

                                     JIM
                         Uh... nuthin'

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

                                     JIM
                         Mace! Shit!
                              (in pain)

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

               INT. BACKSTAGE CORRIDOR - SAME NIGHT

                                     PATRICIA
                         Help! They got Jim!!!

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

               SIDDONS and RAY running up with ROADIES and OTHERS.

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

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

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

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

               COP 2 comes up.

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

                                     SIDDONS
                         Are you NUTS!
                              (blocking them)

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

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

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

                                     PATRICIA
                         What do you know what Jim needs?

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

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

               INT. NEW HAVEN STAGE - THAT NIGHT

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

               DOORS SONG 
               Present arms!...

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

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

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

                                     JIM & DOORS
                         OH YEEEEAAAAHHHHHHHHHH! 
                         AYYYYYYAAAAAMMMMAAA BACK DOOR MAN.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

                                     JIM
                         Say your thing man!

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

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

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

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

               RAY moving to intercede with SIDDONS and ROADIES.

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

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

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

               INT. BACKSTAGE STAIRCASE - SAME NIGHT

               JIM is dragged roughly down a flight of stairs.

                                     JIM
                         GET YOUR HANDS OFF ME SLAVE!

               EXT. ARENA PARKING LOT - SAME NIGHT

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

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

               INT. HOLDING ROOM - POLICE STATION - THAT NIGHT

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

               EXT. POLICE STATION - THAT NIGHT

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

                                     CROWD
                         JIM JIM JIM JIM JIM JIM...

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

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

                                                                    CUT TO:

               FLASHBULBS hits us full frame as:

               INT. MUG SHOT - LIMBO

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

               FLASH!

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

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

               JIM drinks... an ugly cough. Silence. In this puffy wrack 
               and ruin there is still the ironic tones and sweet delight 
               of the boy amazed and amused by it all. We hear the ghostly 
               CROWD still cheering.

                                     JIM
                         I drink so I can talk to assholes. 
                         This includes me. Let's just say I 
                         was testing the bounds of reality -- 
                         that's-all -- I was curious... I 
                         kinda always preferred to be hated. 
                         Like Erich Von Stroheim in the 
                         movies... the man you loved to hate... 
                         it's meant to be ironic, courage 
                         wants to laugh. Y'know it's 
                         essentially a stupid situation. I go 
                         out on a stage and I howl for people. 
                         In me they see what they want to see -- 
                         some say the Lizard King, whatever 
                         that means, or some black-clad leather 
                         demon whatever that means... but 
                         really I think of myself as a 
                         sensitive, intelligent human being 
                         but with the soul of a clown which 
                         always forces me to blow it at the 
                         most crucial moment...
                              (pause)
                         a fake hero... a joke the gods played 
                         on me... it's okay, I accept the 
                         joke... and smile. Death old friend, 
                         death and my cock, I can forgive my 
                         injuries in the name of wisdom, 
                         luxury, romance. Words got me the 
                         wound and will get me well. All join 
                         now in lament of my cock, a tongue 
                         of knowledge in the feathered night. 
                         Boys get crazy in the head and suffer. 
                         I sacrifice my cock on the alter of 
                         silence.

               The ENGINEER looking at him puzzled. Has Jim lost it? MIKE, 
               his friend, is there in the Engineer's booth, with the Door's 
               SECRETARY, Leticia, and an elegant MYSTERY WOMAN. They're 
               smoking dope, partying.

                                     MIKE
                         Hey Jim, how 'bout hitting a strip-
                         joint? It's getting late and we can...

                                     JIM
                         Nah, later...

               The violent backbeat of THE WASP now picking up.

                                     JIM
                         Now listen to this I'll tell you 
                         about Texas Radio and the big beat 
                         soft driven slow and mad like some 
                         new language reaching your head with 
                         the cold sudden fury of a divine 
                         messenger let me tell you about 
                         heartache and the loss of God 
                         wandering, wandering in hopeless 
                         night out here on the perimeter there 
                         are no stars out here we is stoned, 
                         immaculate... but I tell you this: 
                         No eternal reward will forgive us 
                         now for wasting the dawn.

               EXT. LOS ANGELES - DAWN (1968)

               JIM walks the dawn streets. Classic image -- jeans, boots, 
               jacket, the sun starting to rise on the smog and translucent 
               pink light along Santa Monica Boulevard outside the cheap 
               Alta Cienega Motel where he lives... PEACE FROG shoots us 
               through.

               DOORS SONG 
               Blood in the streets in the town of New Haven 
               Blood stains the roofs and palm trees of Venice 
               Blood in my love in the terrible summer 
               The bloody red sun of phantastic L.A.

               Over the SONG, a MONTAGE of the 60's passing to its darker 
               side.

               DOCUMENTARY IMAGES

               MARTIN LUTHER KING assassinated, BOBBY KENNEDY gunned down, 
               PEGGY FLEMMING ice skating at the Olympics; A QUAKER burns 
               himself to death protesting the war in Vietnam; B-52 bombs 
               dropped on CAMBODIA; KENT STATE erupts; CHARLES MANSON is 
               arrested.

               INT. BARNEY'S BEANERY - LOS ANGELES - MONDAY

               JIM -- drinking in Barney's Bar.

               HEADLINE READS:

               "KANSAS COPS SLAM DOORS; CONCERT CANCELLED," 2nd HEADLINE: 
               "DOORS 3RD ALBUM OUT, SALES UP, MAGIC DOWN."

               Dissolve to CRITIC'S FACE. Back to Jim's face. 
               Superimpositions over it of:

               NEWS FLASHES

               LYNDON JOHNSON's dog face on TV withdrawing: NIXON waving as 
               he wins '68; Rowen and Martin's LAUGH IN; COLUMBIA STUDENTS 
               taking over; 3rd HEADLINE: "MORRISON BUSTED IN VEGAS". MARTIN 
               LUTHER KING going down again; NIXON winning; massive ANTI-
               WAR PROTESTS in Washington; floating space ships in "2001"; 
               B-52s sailing over Vietnam 4th HEADLINE: "DOORS PROVOKE 
               CHICAGO RIOTS" -- again and again, faster, faster.

               DOORS SONG 
               Blood is the rose of mysterious union! 
               There's blood in the streets & it's up to my knees 
               She came 
               Blood in the streets of Chicago 
               She came 
               Blood on the rise and it's following me 
               Just about the break of day (etc) 
               The river runs red down the legs of the city 
               She came 
               The women are crying red rivers of weeping

               The MONTAGE collides into an ECU on JIM -- drinking as if to 
               silence the images, the sounds we hear and see on his face. 
               Spirits crying for release. In alcoholic solace. He passes 
               out, head hitting the bar.

               Jim's English friend, MIKE, walks in, throwing a harsh shaft 
               of LA morning light across the dark bar and JIM's face, bleary 
               eyed, passed out on the counter. He has a drinking paunch. 
               With him are TOM BAKER, "TOM", the actor from the Warhol 
               scene in New York and a huge biker type drinker named DOG, 
               one of Jim's roadmen, a beard fanning his chest, tattoos 
               everywhere. In the front of these three monoliths are about 
               twenty beer bottles, numerous Jack Daniels bottles emptied 
               and a lesbian BARTENDRESS pouring up a breakfast shot of 
               bloody Marys... Mike hands Dog a breakfast in a brown paper 
               bag.

                                     MIKE
                         Morning. Pour me breakfast Delores...

               Delores pouring the bloody mary. As Mike scoffs at Jim passed 
               out.

                                     MIKE
                         Whatsa matter with Jimbo? Can't handle 
                         it huh
                              (studying the beer 
                              bottles for leftovers)

                                     TOM
                         Pussy whipped, man...

               DOG reaching in, dragging Jim's face up by the hair. Sticks 
               Mike's greasy eggs and bacon in front of Jim.

                                     DOG
                         Hey Jim, come on babe, eat this. . . 
                         one last place to go. Ray's getting 
                         it on.

               Jim is suddenly alert -- an instant and surprising 
               transformation, without hangover, eager eyed.

                                     JIM
                              (sparkling)
                         Alive she cried! Right Dog, another 
                         cubic centimeter of chance
                              (slaps Dog, notices 
                              the eggs, queasy)
                         Ugh, I can't eat this stuff, it'll 
                         really make me sick. Gimme a Dos 
                         Equis will ya Delores? And a Ramos 
                         gin fizz with it.

                                     TOM
                         Fuck man did you fade or what, we 
                         were on a "death run" up to the 9000 
                         building after the gig, you bet me a 
                         grand you'd walk the ledge.

                                     JIM
                              (instantly)
                         Let's go... Right now!

                                     TOM
                         Then mumbling about "gotta go home, 
                         sanctuary," pussy whipped. We were 
                         gonna film it! A thousand bucks!
                              (to Delores)
                         Give him a double.

                                     JIM
                         A triple, Tom, shem and shaun...

                                     TOM
                         ...imagine me and Morrison in a fuckin 
                         movie together, can you imagine two 
                         powerful two-fisted Irish fucking 
                         drinking guys in a movie, in a 
                         documentary movie!!

                                     MIKE
                         I'll direct the shit out of it, man. 
                         Dennis Hopper can do it, I can do 
                         it.

                                     JIM
                              (drinking the fizz 
                              down)
                         ...all of us direct it! In black and 
                         white. Call it "Zero." A real road 
                         movie! Two of these
                              (points to drink)
                         you feel a lot better.

               As he pisses on the floor next to the bar stool.

                                     DOG
                         Whatcha doing! Oh fuck.

                                     DELORES
                         Fuck you Morrison. You're outta here 
                         you fuckhead, get out!

                                     DOG
                              (lifting Jim out of 
                              there)
                         Come on Jimbo, one more place to go. 
                         Ray's getting married man, this 
                         morning, remember! You're the best 
                         man.

                                     TOM
                         Fuck Ray -- fuckin Pollock all he 
                         cares about's money. Fuckin sell 
                         out. You sold out too man. The last 
                         album's shit, and lemme tell ya 
                         something, people know it.

                                     MIKE
                              (defending Jim)
                         Come on Baker, lighten up.

                                     JIM
                         That's all right. I like it
                              (that dopey smile)

                                     DOG
                              (to Jim)
                         Come on man, toe the line. Boots to 
                         the pavement. Let's walk.

               OMIT

               Sequence omitted from original script.

               EXT. SANTA MONICA BOULEVARD - SAME MORNING

               JIM, loose, wanders right into the traffic, waving to anybody, 
               trying to hitch a ride. DOG and the OTHERS going after him. 
               Jim seen slipping a tablet from his pocket into his mouth.

                                     JIM
                              (to no one in 
                              particular)
                         I LOVE L.A. -- the best neon. City 
                         of Night! City of Light... why are 
                         you going to work? You're not slaves, 
                         you're free, cars, you're free...

               TOM catching up to him.

                                     TOM
                         Awright shaddup Morrison, just cause 
                         you don't gotta work.
                              (going into his pocket)
                         Give me some of your money, asshole, 
                         and I'll yell anything you fucking 
                         want.

                                     MIKE
                              (coming up)
                         What was that speckled motherfucker 
                         you just took? Give me some!

                                     JIM
                              (yielding, to Tom)
                         You gotta fail to succeed Tom, gotta 
                         surrender to the waiting tides.

               Moving through traffic. Horns honking, incessant insanity.

               EXT. PACIFIC PALISADES - SAME MORNING

               RAY and DOROTHY take their vows in front of a HIPPIE PRIEST.

               ROBBIE and JOHN and their WIVES-TO-BE, and OTHERS from the 
               BAND look on.

               PAMELA is all decked out in her best, wedding clothes, red 
               satins from Morocco, five-inch clog heels, flowers in her 
               hair. Looking around pissed as:

                                     HIPPIE PRIEST
                              (ad lib)
                         Awright, the vibrations are right 
                         now, I feel peace and love here today, 
                         I feel a grooviness coming on, do 
                         you Ray Manzarek take your lady 
                         love... (etc.) fill the white wings 
                         of death, scatter your ashes 
                         forever...

               JIM slinks up through the trees, alone, quiet, changing faces 
               to face them as SUMMER'S ALMOST GONE plays sinuously.

               DOORS SONG 
               Summer's almost gone 
               Where will we be 
               When the summer's gone?

                                     RAY
                              (aside)
                         Where the fuck you been man?

                                     JIM
                         Man, I been here all the time... 
                         over there watching. I'm really happy 
                         for you Ray you found life...

               He smiles innocently. Ray, a beat, turns away. Pam coming 
               over, squeezes his hand, sweetly, no fights today, she's his 
               lady.

               INT. COUNTRY STORE - LAUREL CANYON - THAT DAY

               JIM, in dark glasses, strongly feeling the effects of the 
               acid, stares at a box of Kellogg's Corn Flakes, unable to 
               relate.

               Down the aisle PAMELA, in her wedding clothes, is pushing a 
               shopping cart, filled with the feast she's preparing. The 
               Store is a haven for HIPPIES from Laurel Canyon, barefoot 
               RUNAWAYS, BIKERS...

                                     PAM
                         Jim, I need some safflower oil. Do 
                         you think you can find me a bottle?

                                     JIM
                         Safflower oil, sure.

                                     PAM
                         And get some Gravy Train for Sage.

                                     JIM
                              (obediently)
                         Yes.

                                     PAM
                         I'll meet you up front.

               Jim looking, zombie-like for the food. PEOPLE of course stare 
               at him, knowing who he is.

                                                                TIMECUT TO:

               At the CHECK-OUT COUNTER, the food being tallied up, JIM 
               spots his face plastered on the cover of something like the 
               "L.A. FREE PRESS" -- "ROCK'S BAD BOYS GO SOFT -- WHAT'S 
               HAPPENED TO THE REVOLUTION?"

                                     PAM
                         Jim you got any cash?

               Seeking in his pocket -- nothing but a credit card and a 
               rumpled old dollar bill... The faces of the Hippies looking 
               at him. With one of the magic markers on the counter, he 
               draws in his beard on his cover shot.

               DOORS SONG 
               Morning found us clearly unaware 
               Noon burned gold into our hair 
               At night we swam the laughing sea 
               When summer's gone where will we be

               EXT. JIM & PAM'S HOUSE - LAUREL CANYON - DAY

               PAM and JIM and the labrador SAGE trudge up a hill carrying 
               the groceries to their modest little house tucked into a 
               hill of dangling eucaplyptus trees. We sense a community of 
               artists, hippies, Volkswagens.

                                     PAM
                         It's only another $95,000 but I could 
                         get the best clothes. From India, 
                         Morocco Jim, clothes you can't find 
                         anywhere, we could get the richest 
                         people to come, Miles Davis, Cher, 
                         the Stones, it's gonna be the best 
                         boutique on La Cienega Jim... why 
                         are we walking, how come we don't 
                         have a car?

                                     JIM
                         ...cause you lost it. It's fun to 
                         walk, isn't it.

                                     PAM
                         ...that was months ago. We got another 
                         car.

                                     JIM
                         Which car?

                                     PAM
                         The red one with the black interior. 
                         Remember it was a shift and I didn't 
                         like it. What happened to it?

                                     JIM
                         Oh yeah... I wrecked it.

                                     PAM
                         Oh Jim! Damn! Where's the Gravy Train? 
                         Whatsamatter? What are you on? You 
                         promised you wouldn't drink today.

                                     JIM
                         No Ma I ain't drinking.

                                     PAM
                         You're not gonna drink any more are 
                         you Jim.

                                     JIM
                         No Ma I ain't.

                                     PAM
                         And you're gonna change those stinky 
                         leathers you been wearing for three 
                         weeks.

                                     JIM
                         I don't know 'bout that.

                                     PAM
                         What the hell are you on?

                                     JIM
                         Uh -- just some low grade acid. It's 
                         not heavy.
                              (whispers)
                         Pam, read my mind.

                                     PAM
                         Jesus Jim! Goddamit! You PROMISED. I 
                         made the duck! People are coming! 
                         Ray and Dorothy think we're flaky 
                         enough and I... you said you'd wait 
                         till after, you're going to peak 
                         before me.

                                     JIM
                         Hey it's okay, it's okay... come on, 
                         we'll trip and then eat our feast.

                                     PAM
                         Yeah sure.

               Putting down the bags at their porch, pausing. He moves to 
               her, kisses her, conciliatory and gentle.

                                     JIM
                         Come on baby, y'know it's a good 
                         thing for Ray and Dorothy I think 
                         women are such noble creatures -- 
                         they carry on your name with dignity 
                         after you die.
                              (spawning like minnows)

                                     PAM
                         What are you saying? You wanna marry 
                         me Jim?

                                     JIM
                              (elusively)
                         I think women basically have a comic 
                         approach to life -- I mean how can 
                         they not when they look up in the 
                         dark and see a dangling penis, seeking 
                         entry. It looks like a face y'know -- 
                         little beard "Hi mom"
                              (Pam giggling now)
                         I wanna get inside you. Look around.
                              (humming)
                         "Do the funky chicken, do dah, dah, 
                         funky chicken do da da "love my girl" --

               She's cracking up now. As he takes the acid out, holds it in 
               front of her like a sacrament.

                                     JIM
                         Let's go wild child, let's get out 
                         there Romeo and Juliet, Marilyn Monroe 
                         and Vincent Van Gogh, Jim and Pam, 
                         rock and roll
                              (a poem)
                         ...all the poetry has wolves in it, 
                         but one Pam -- the most beautiful 
                         one of all -- dances in a ring of 
                         fire and throws off the challenge 
                         with a shrug

               As she takes the tablet on her tongue, swallows.

                                     PAM
                              (romantic)
                         I like it when you sing to me

                                     JIM
                         'cause I'm the poet and you're my 
                         muse

               Strains of YOU'RE LOST, LITTLE GIRL drift in, setting a more 
               ominous tone.

               INT. JIM AND PAM'S HOUSE - LAUREL CANYON - THAT DAY

               The FOOD is laid out, the DUCK cooking... but no one is there 
               as we move across this tastefully decorated house to PAMELA 
               in the living room, rattled, obsessively going through Jim's 
               papers. PEOPLE are knocking at the door. Guests looking 
               through the windows, tapping. A giant poster of Marilyn Monroe 
               frames Pamela.

                                     PAM
                         What am I going to do about these 
                         papers! Jim, Jim -- you really need 
                         someone to organize this stuff. Your 
                         handwriting's just like a little 
                         kid.

               Jim is somewhere else -- pulling out the DUCK which is totally 
               charred black. He laughs.

                                     PAM
                         My God look at this. I wonder if 
                         William Blake was ever this 
                         disorganized.

               RAY and DOROTHY walking in. ROBBIE and JOHN general commotion. 
               Dorothy immediately seeing the duck, runs to it...

                                     DOROTHY
                         Oh the duck!

                                     JIM
                              (coming over)
                         Get some drinks, man. Over there
                              (getting Pam's 
                              attention)
                         Pam!

                                     PAM
                         I'm gonna be your editor now, 
                         seriously I'm going to organize all 
                         your stuff. I'm gonna take out all 
                         the fuck words.

               DOORS SONG 
               You're lost little girl 
               You're lost little girl 
               You're lost, tell me 
               Who are you?

               PEOPLE are introducing themselves, coming in from all over, 
               like in a shoebox. Hippies. Doors people... now TOM BAKER 
               with MIKE and DOG... Now an aggressive Chuck Berry type BLACK 
               SINGER with John's GIRLFRIEND. Then a TIMOTHY LEARY look-
               alike appears. CHATTER blending everywhere as we build to a 
               vast confusion at Jim and Pam's party.

                                     JIM
                         Let's go wild child, let's get out 
                         there Romeo and Juliet, Marilyn Monroe 
                         and Vincent Van Gogh, Jim and Pam, 
                         rock and roll
                              (a poem)
                         "Clothed in sunlight Restless in 
                         wanting Dying of fever Changed shapes 
                         of an empire Vast promissory notes 
                         of joy How it has changed you How 
                         slowly estranged you Solely arranged 
                         you Beg you for mercy"

               As she takes the tablet on her tongue, swallows.

                                     JIM
                              (cupping her chin)
                         Pam... Honey, you're trying too hard.

                                     PAM
                         I'm not -- I'm not.

                                     JIM
                              (soft, reassuring)
                         Yes you are.

                                     PAM
                         There's some great poetry here Jim, 
                         some wonderful ideas.

                                     JIM
                         Yeah but nobody wants to read poetry 
                         anymore, nobody cares, it's not like 
                         important y'know. Just put it away. 
                         Not right now.

                                     PAM
                              (lost)
                         But what am I supposed to do? How do 
                         I fit in? Who am I supposed to be 
                         around all these people?

               The FRENCH COUNT coming in now, from the Warhol party in New 
               York. They're looking at her, embarrassing as everyone 
               overhears.

                                     COUNT
                         Darling Pamela, I brought you a little 
                         something.

                                     JIM
                              (ignoring it)
                         You're my girl, that's who...

                                     PAMELA
                              (laughs insanely)
                         I'm not your girl, don't give me 
                         that shit. I know you fuck everything 
                         that touches you.

               Only in life would ANNE O'RIORDAN walk in at this precise 
               moment, a smile on her face. Ray's eyes roll.

                                     ANNE
                         Hi Jim...
                              (waiting for the 
                              introduction to Pam)

                                     JIM
                              (to Pamela)
                         All right so I do. I live my life 
                         the way I want. I don't want anyone 
                         expecting anything from me -- 
                         including you! You don't like it 
                         then get the fuck out!
                              (to Anne)
                         Oh hi Anne. You know Pam? She's a 
                         little pissed off right now but...

                                     RAY
                         Okay Jim let's eat that duck.

                                     DOROTHY
                              (calming Pamela)
                         Come on Pam, let's put out the 
                         plates...

                                     PAMELA
                              (stunned, pushing 
                              thru to Anne)
                         Anne O'Riordan. Are you Anne 
                         O'Riordan?

                                     ANNE
                         You must be Pamela

                                     PAMELA
                              (eyeing her up and 
                              down through her 
                              tears)
                         You actually put your dick in this 
                         woman Jim?

                                     JIM
                         Well I... sometimes yeah

                                     PAMELA
                              (condescending to 
                              Anne)
                         I understand... I really do but don't 
                         ever think that Jim's gonna love you 
                         or take care of you. You're one of a 
                         hundred you know

               Anne uncomfortable, Jim getting pissed.

                                     JIM
                         Hey -- don't you know when to stop!

                                     PAM
                         Look who's talking

                                     ANNE
                         I'd like to think Jim can make up 
                         his own mind who he loves and who he 
                         doesn't.

                                     PAMELA
                         Don't kid yourself sweetheart, Jim's 
                         crazy but he's not that crazy. He 
                         loves me.

                                     ROBBIE
                         Jesus, it's not gonna be one of these 
                         dinners is it Jim? How 'bout some 
                         turkey?

                                     BAKER
                         Love it!! Far out.

                                     DOROTHY
                         Yes, let's go into the kitchen. The 
                         duck's ready.

               John's GIRLFRIEND is trying to introduce the BLACK SINGER to 
               Jim.

                                     GIRLFRIEND
                              (anxious)
                         Jim, you should meet Chuck Vincent. 
                         He came specially to meet you.

                                     JIM
                              (deeply surprised)
                         Oh yeah -- Chuck. You're my idol 
                         man... since I was 12. The best man...

               CHUCK VINCENT is suddenly there in Jim's face, bulging 
               eyeballs.

                                     CHUCK VINCENT
                         So you the white boy makin' all that 
                         money.

                                     JIM
                         I still can't hold a candle to you.

                                     CHUCK VINCENT
                         Hey everybody Chuck Vincent's here. 
                         Yo sho can't boy, I ain't heard much 
                         of yor stuff. What I done heard don't 
                         show me much.

                                     ROBBIE
                              (insulted)
                         So fuck you man...

                                     JIM
                              (laughs)
                         Chuck Vincent man! No. He's right... 
                         Chuck Vincent's here, everybody, 
                         Chuck Vincent.

                                     CHUCK
                         Ain't no honkey ever gonna sing the 
                         blues, you ain't been there. Where 
                         dat turkey at?

               The charred TURKEY is being carved up. A moment of peace, 
               then: Pamela walks up to Jim with a bowl of sweet potatoes 
               in her arms, an announcement.

                                     PAM
                         I just have one thing to say to you -- 
                         YOU'VE RUINED ANOTHER THANKSGIVING 
                         JIM MORRISON!!

                                     JIM
                         It's not Thanksgiving honey.

               As she throws the sweet potatoes right at him, spraying 
               everybody. Jim laughing nuttily, the Count wiping the potatoes 
               off. Pam rushing now for the turkey to throw, Jim chasing 
               her.

                                     PAM
                              (freaking out now)
                         YOU BASTARD! YOU RUINED MY DUCK, YOU 
                         KILLED MY DUCK!!! BLOOD BLOOD BLOOD 
                         RAZORS RAZORS EVERYWHERE!

               Throwing the turkey at Jim, smearing everything, everybody.

                                     COUNT
                         Pamela, bella, please behave hunh... 
                         Va fanculo Jimmy, what the hell did 
                         you give her

               She doesn't want the Count's solace, throws him off.

                                     PAM
                         GET OUT!!!

               PATRICIA leaving now, covered with turkey sauce.

                                     PATRICIA
                         See you later.

                                     JIM
                              (to the Count)
                         She's working it out, man, it's okay
                              (going to console her)
                         Pamela, Pamela... come on baby, it's 
                         all right, shhh.

               HUNGARIAN GYPSY FOLK MUSIC playing madly from the tape deck. 
               John fiddling with it, nervously.

                                     PAM
                         BLOOOOOOODDDDDDD! DEEATHHHH! STOP 
                         THE BLEEDING JESUS. I'M DYING HELP 
                         MEEEEEE!

                                     JIM
                         PUSH! PUSH! IT'S A BOY!

               They struggle, she goes for the carving knife, Dorothy and 
               Ray trying to restrain her. OTHER GUESTS keep talking as if 
               things are quite normal. Pam breaks through Dorothy -- coming 
               after Jim

                                     PAM
                         RAAAAZOOOORS!!! RAAAAZZZZZORS AND 
                         DUCKKKS! THIS SHAMAN SHIT IS BULLSHIT! 
                         FUCK YOU AND YOUR DARK RIDE!!

               He grabs her wrist just in time, equally insane now -- a 
               comic glow in his face. Jekyll and Hyde.

                                     JIM
                         Oh murder? MURDER??? YOU WANNA DO 
                         SOME MURDER

                                     RAY
                         JIM! COME ON. GET A HOLD OF YOURSELF!

                                     TOM, DOG & MIKE
                              (jumping in)
                         MURDER!!! YEAH!... Where's my camera!

               A ball of people wrestling across the kitchen floor, upsetting 
               the table and the remainder of the dishes, a carving knife 
               at stake in the air... Jim finally wrestling the knife away 
               and holding it over Pam.

                                     JIM
                         YOU WANNA KNOW WHAT MURDER IS. YOU 
                         WANNA FEEL DEATH... HERE!
                              (forces the knife 
                              back into her hand)
                         MURDER ME! FEEL WHAT IT'S LIKE! GO 
                         AHEAD. GIMME SOME DEATH!!!
                              (kneels at her feet)

               She explodes inward, a bloodcurdling SHRIEK. The knife 
               clattering from her hand.

                                     PAM
                         YOU YOU YOU!!!! YOU KILLED MY DUCK! 
                         YOU KILLED MY DUCK!!

               Jim laughing insanely. Jumping up and down on the duck. RAY 
               grabbing him, angry.

                                     JIM
                         I'M STILL KILLING YOUR DUCK!!! FUCK!!! 
                         MURDER DEATH!!! THE DUCK IS DEAD.

                                     RAY
                         JIM!! WILL YOU STOP THIS SHIT WILL 
                         YOU STOP!! WILL YOU GET SANE!!

                                     JIM
                              (explodes out of his 
                              grasp)
                         DON'T TELL ME WHAT TO DO!! EVER!! 
                         EVER!!

               A silence. Robbie... John... their women... they start 
               exiting.

                                     TOM & MIKE
                              (to RAY)
                         Yeah FUCK OFF MAN!

               Ray about to lose his temper with Tom, checks it.

                                     CHUCK VINCENT
                              (to John's girlfriend)
                         This party's gettin' low rent. Let's 
                         go babe.

               Exiting with the other Doors... Dog picking the duck up from 
               the floor.

                                     DOG
                         Hey, fuck him, let's eat this thing.

               Pamela is sobbing, in a quiet bewildered voice, repeating to 
               herself.

                                     PAM
                         What the hell's happened to us Jim? 
                         What the hell is happening to us. 
                         There's some great poetry...

               On Jim... saddened.

               DOORS SONG 
               You're lost little girl (2) 
               You're lost, tell me 
               Who are you?

               INT. TUNNEL - OUTDOOR THEATRE - NIGHT

               The backbeat of NOT TO TOUCH THE EARTH as a DOCUMENTARY FILM 
               CREW, moves past us directed by MIKE and DOG and TOM shoot 
               past us, sun guns, nagras ("Rolling! Speed!") then...

               A mad rush of HANDS and SCREAMS as SHAPES whip by under 
               swinging light-bulbs -- big BLACK BODYGUARDS, six or seven 
               of them, bulling their way thru the grasping faces, as 
               MORRISON appears... camera swinging wildly with him to reveal:

               EXT. ARENA - (ANY CITY) - NIGHT

               THOUSANDS OF FANS roaring "DOORS! DOORS! DOORS!"

                                     VOICE
                              (loudspeaker)
                         Ladies and Gentlemen, from Los Angeles 
                         California -- The DOORS!

                                     SIDDONS
                              (in crush)
                         Jim! Your Mom's here with your 
                         brother. What do you want me to do 
                         with 'em?

                                     JIM
                              (shakes his head)
                         HIDE ME!!!

                                                               HARD CUT TO:

               Madness. COPS lining the edge of the stage, looking worried. 
               As Jim throws his leather jacket into the cheering crowd and 
               does the ghost dance around the microphone, Indian style, 
               one foot, resurrecting the dead, the power of the circle. 
               The stage is bottom lit, Dantean in look. The Doors casting 
               giant shadows of heroic proportions. DEA AGENTS in suits and 
               short hair take photos from the front of the stage, clipboards 
               in hand. Blocked by a row of cops, it is impossible for Jim 
               to communicate with his audience.

                                     JIM & DOORS
                         There's been a slaughter here 
                         Don't stop to speak or look around 
                         Your gloves and fan are on the ground 
                         We're getting out of town we're going 
                         on the run 
                         And you're the one I want to come 
                         Not to touch the earth 
                         Not to see the sun 
                         Nothing left to do 
                         But run, run, run 
                         Let's run, let's run...

               SIDDONS yelling at MIKE, the roadie.

                                     SIDDONS
                         Vice Squad says one more "fuck or 
                         shit" they're gonna close us down 
                         man.

                                     MIKE
                         Stick my dick in their ear!

               Jim ignoring all this, one hand cupped to his ear listening 
               for the sound of the earth, gone into a shaman-like state, 
               weird spiralling chords carrying over the following MONTAGE 
               of hallucinatory insanity.

                                     JIM & DOORS
                         House upon the hill 
                         Moon is lying still...

               EXT. JIM & PAM'S HOUSE - LAUREL CANYON - NIGHT

               A POV up at the house -- into which JIM enters. The lights 
               are on. Sage at the door sniffing.

               INT. JIM & PAM'S HOUSE - LAUREL CANYON - NIGHT

                                     JIM & DOORS
                         Shadows of the trees witnessing the 
                         wild breeze 
                         Come on baby run with me 
                         Run with me, let's run...

               JIM'S POV entering the bedroom -- PAMELA naked in bed with 
               the COUNT, is snorting heroin. Shadows of the trees and leaves 
               blowing against the walls. Their voices, dim, distant.

                                     JIM
                              (ironic)
                         Oh hi... I didn't realize you were 
                         entertaining.

                                     PAM
                              (stoned)
                         Hi.

               She sits up on the bed, wobbly. The COUNT, more sophisticated 
               in these things, lights a cigarette from the bedside table, 
               revealing heroin paraphernalia.

                                     COUNT
                         Scusi Jimmy, I hope you're cool about 
                         this...

                                     JIM
                              (very cool)
                         Don't forget your smack on the way 
                         out.

               EXT. ARENA - CONCERT

               Jim's struggling to break through the barrier of cops.

                                     JIM
                              (yelling)
                         The mansion is warm at the top of 
                         the hill 
                         Rich are the rooms and the comforts 
                         there 
                         Red are the arms of luxuriant chairs 
                         You won't know a thing till you get 
                         inside

                                                                   BACK TO:

               INT. JIM & PAM'S HOUSE - NIGHT

               The COUNT is gone. JIM, icy cold, grabs PAM by the wrist.

                                     JIM
                         I told you about that shit. Or are 
                         we talking about death choices here?

                                     PAM
                         I'm just doing my thing, just like 
                         you said, it's my thing, why can't I 
                         have a thing. Ow! You're hurting me!

                                     JIM
                              (rising anger)
                         Get up. Hurt? You want to know HURT? 
                         Let me introduce you to my good friend 
                         hurt.

               He is on her, throws her from the bed. She runs and hides in 
               the closet, slamming the door behind her.

                                     PAM
                              (screaming)
                         NO FUCK YOU! THIS IS MY...

                                     JIM
                              (crazed)
                         Ah sanctuary!... a soft place to 
                         hide.

                                     PAM
                              (inside)
                         ...from you, you pig!

               As he picks up a can of lighter fluid and douses the closet 
               door and the floor.

                                     JIM
                         I'll give you a place to hide forever!

               We INTERCUT with PAM inside the closet yelling for mercy 
               inside.

                                     PAM
                         JIM!

               He puts a candle to the drenched door/floor.

                                     JIM
                         This is the best part of the trip, 
                         honey...

               Inside, PAM feels the first flames licking up, smoke wafting 
               in.

               JIM leaves the house.

               Pam kicking wildly at the doors, trying to smash her way out 
               as the FIRE crescendoes. She finally shatters the frail 
               molding and bursts out.

               EXT. JIM & PAM'S HOUSE - LAUREL CANYON - NIGHT

               PAM runs out into Laurel Canyon like a terrified doe running 
               from a forest fire. SONG beat NOT TO TOUCH THE EARTH 
               continues.

               EXT. STREET - LOS ANGELES - NIGHT

               Jim and Mike driving drunk, fucking TWO BLACK CHICKS. Mike 
               in the back seat. Jim drives the car up onto the grass of a 
               Police Station and plows right into it.

               EXT. BOULEVARD - LOS ANGELES - NIGHT

               Knowing who's inside, sufficient be it to see the blue Shelby 
               Mustang plow into a telephone pole on Santa Monica Blvd.

                                     JIM & THE DOORS
                         Dead President's corpse in the 
                         driver's car 
                         The engine runs on glue and tar 
                         C'mon along, we're not going very 
                         far 
                         To the East to meet the Czar...

               INT. ANNE'S SOHO LOFT - NEW YORK - NIGHT

               A HIGH PRIESTESS, assisted by a HIGH PRIEST, conducts a Wicca 
               wedding amidst a setting of candles, mixing a few drops of 
               JIM and ANNE's blood into a consecrated cup of wine, from 
               which they drink. They all wear long black robes, the only 
               light from the candles, standing inside a circle in front of 
               a table with altar, incense, chalice.

                                     HIGH PRIESTESS
                              (dimly heard)
                         ...we worship the ancient forces of 
                         Nature, the Triple Goddess, the Great 
                         Mother and the Lord, the Horned One... 
                         when the vow is taken

               INT. LIMO - DAY

               MOTORCYCLE ESCORTS COPS zoom past the limo windows on the LA 
               STREETS.

               INT. ANNE'S SOHO LOFT - NEW YORK - RESUME NIGHT

               The PRIESTESS presses the two cut wrists together, binding 
               them with a red cord.

                                     HIGH PRIESTESS
                         ...it is a blending of souls on a 
                         karmi and cosmic plane that affects 
                         your future incarnations on this 
                         planet. Death does not part -- only 
                         lack of love -- and the vow is forever 
                         in the Goddess' sight.

                                     JIM & DOORS
                              (building faster and 
                              faster)
                         Run with me, run with me 
                         Run with me, let's run 
                         Some outlaws live by the side of a 
                         lake 
                         The minister's daughter's in love 
                         with a snake

               Jim faints.

               EXT. DOORS OUTDOOR CONCERT - NIGHT

               JIM, mind totally gone into his trance, spreading his arms 
               like wings, hopping from one foot to the other like a shaman 
               around his microphone, whirling, yelling out great rewards 
               for the tribe. Plentiful antelope, healthy corn.

               The kids are going wild -- writhing like maenads in his 
               intoxicating embrace. Embers from an enormous BONFIRE drift 
               past the stadium lights into the night. But the KIDS, 
               increasingly frustrated by a barrage of COPS, cannot see 
               their leader and now push against the cops with the very 
               result the authorities seek to repress.

                                     JIM & DOORS
                         Who lives in a well by the side of 
                         the road 
                         Wake up girl! We're almost home 
                         We shall see the gates by morning 
                         We shall be inside by evening 
                         Sun, sun, sun 
                         Burn, burn, burn 
                         Moon, moon, moon!

               RAY, gone into his own trance, happening to look up from his 
               keyboard. His eyes widen.

               His POV -- an INDIAN SHAMAN hovers over the microphone. 
               Cloaked in hides, his face obscured by a horned headdress 
               with colored tails and feathers streaming down his shoulders, 
               rattles in each fist, the BONFIRE glowing...

                                     JIM & DOORS
                         I will GET YOU 
                         Soon -- soooooooon... SOOOOOOONNNN...

               The COPS can't hold. TEENAGE SHOCK TROOPS hitting the stage, 
               clambering up. The stage becoming a riot. Cops wading in 
               with sticks. ROADIES and BODYGUARDS yanking the MUSICIANS 
               from their places...

                                     JIM
                              (indifferent, to 
                              himself)
                         I am the Lizard King I can do anything

               As DOG hauls the shaman king off in a bearhug, smiling stoned, 
               immaculate.

               INT. ALTA CIENEGA MOTEL - DAY

               Start slow CLOSE UP on JIM, he's crying, his head on a pillow, 
               silent, haunted... pull out to see the room, no explanations. 
               A TV GAME SHOW is on, JUDY, 17, and her FRIEND, 16, watching 
               naked, skinny..., piles of murder magazines and books, 
               clothes, and personal items trashed around the thread bare 
               room he calls home. She looks over at him.

                                     JUDY
                         Man wow -- watsa matter Jim? It was 
                         beautiful... wasn't it? Kim? Wasn't 
                         it great?

                                     KIM
                              (2nd girl, studying 
                              murder magazine)
                         It was all right

               Jim continues to cry.

                                     JIM
                              (gently)
                         Hey it's no big deal. I like to cry 
                         when I come. It's close to death... 
                         maybe you'd better go home now before 
                         your mama gets home.

                                     JUDY
                         She is home Jim
                              (whispers to Kim who 
                              goes into bathroom, 
                              giggling)

                                     JIM
                         What?

                                     JUDY
                         It's a secret.

                                     JIM
                              (innocently)
                         You know you've always been good to 
                         me in bed Judy. And it was nice of 
                         you to bring your friend. I want to 
                         keep seeing both of you but it can't 
                         be all the time y'know. It would be 
                         a night every few weeks or so. That's 
                         just the way I am, I'm not dependable. 
                         I can't be a boyfriend. Would you do 
                         that? I mean could you handle it? 
                         That way? I don't want you to get 
                         hurt.

                                     JUDY
                              (putting on a tacky 
                              dress)
                         I already been hurt enuf' by you 
                         Jim, I don't have much to lose do I?

                                     JIM
                         ...do you love me?

                                     JUDY
                         ...yes

                                     JIM
                         ...Well, just think about it awhile. 
                         Call me when you get your new 
                         number...
                              (Girl 2 comes back 
                              in, dressed)
                         Hey that's a really nice outfit you're 
                         wearing, you really have good taste 
                         in clothes. How long have you two 
                         been friends?

               He's so concerned, so solicitous that both girls crack up 
               laughing.

                                     JIM
                              (grins)
                         What?

               A knock at the door.

                                     JIM
                         Come back later!
                              (another knock)
                         Who is it!

                                     VOICE
                              (slurred)
                         It's a secret.

                                     JIM
                              (recognizes it)
                         Whyn't you come back later. I don't 
                         have any clothes on.

               EXT. ALTA CIENEGA MOTEL ROOM - SAME DAY

               PAM's mascara is running from her eyes, begging to get in. 
               The BLACK MAID cleaning the adjacent room overheard, 
               unsurprised.

                                     PAM
                         Jim, I gotta talk! Let me in please. 
                         I gotta talk.

                                     JIM
                         Now Pam sweetheart, I'm busy.

               Pamela listening at the door. She's on the second story of a 
               cheap motel overlooking a boring parking lot on the edge of 
               La Cienega.

                                     PAM
                         Jim, I know there's someone in there, 
                         I can't believe you're doing this 
                         again. You're disgusting.

                                                              INTERCUTS TO:

               INT. MOTEL ROOM - SIMULTANEOUS

                                     JIM
                         Well you see Pam there's this crazy 
                         girl in here, she's just lying on 
                         the bed with her legs open and I 
                         don't know what to do.

                                     PAM
                         FUCK YOU!!! I want to see her.

                                     JIM
                              (off)
                         It's your cousin Lizzie, you don't 
                         want to see her. Go home.

                                     PAM
                         We're all sisters, let me see her. 
                         Jim,... I got this wonderful leg of 
                         lamb in the oven for supper... and 
                         the house is immaculate. Sage is 
                         waiting. He wants you to play with 
                         him... are you coming...

                                     JIM
                         Almost.

                                     PAM
                         Jim goddamit answer me!!
                              (no answer, she yells)
                         JIM! I FUCKED HIM TO HURT YOU! HE 
                         DOESN'T MEAN ANYTHING TO ME!!

               PEOPLE in the parking lot looking up. A silence is her only 
               response. She waits, turns away from the closed door as TOUCH 
               ME BABE cuts in:

               DOORS SONG 
               C'mon, c'mon, c'mon c'mon now 
               Touch me babe 
               Can't you see that I am not afraid

               INT. RECORDING STUDIO - THAT NIGHT

               In the VOCAL BOOTH, JIM is chugging on a brown paper bag 
               with whiskey in it, crooning with heart but the voice is 
               warped, weak.

                                     JIM
                         What was that promise you made 
                         Why don't you tell me what she said 
                         What was that promise that she made 
                         I'm gonna love you 
                         Till the heaven stops the rain 
                         I'm gonna love you 
                         Till the stars fall from the sky 
                         For you and I...

               VARIOUS PEOPLE are hanging around the studio listening -- a 
               couple of HIPPIE CHICKS, A BURN VICTIM w/ bandages, a CHARLES 
               MANSON TYPE, a Siberian HUSKY, the TIM LEARY type. Paper 
               bags, burgers, bottles, California rose, apple juice, hard-
               boiled eggs.

               In the ENGINEERING BOOTH. ROTHCHILD, the producer, is 
               displeased.

                                     PAUL
                              (to Botnick the 
                              engineer)
                         ...fuckin' neanderthal primadonna is 
                         too drunk to see.
                              (cuts the music, to 
                              Jim)
                         Cut it... that was beautiful 
                         sweetheat, we had a technical problem, 
                         we'll take it again from the top 
                         babe whenever you're ready.

               On the floor, the DOORS are depressed. DENSMORE looking at 
               MORRISON, aimlessly, nervously. KRIEGER looking tired and 
               beaten, takes a discreet hit on a joint. Ray scans an art 
               book, patient.

                                     DENSMORE
                         What's his fucking problem?

                                     JIM
                              (equally false)
                         Paul babe.

                                     PAUL
                         Right here baby.

                                     JIM
                         Why don't you suck a fart out of my 
                         asshole you slave driving facist 
                         motherfucker!

               As he stalks out of the booth. Raging, near-incomprehensible.

               A small portable TV set is playing the "Dean Martin Show" 
               low on one end of the recording console. Around the room the 
               detritus of the time -- Mailer's "Armies of the Night", The 
               Stone's "Beggar's Banquet", Janis' "Cheap Thrills", Traffic, 
               The Band.

                                     PAUL
                              (exasperated)
                         I hear the booze, I hear the smokes 
                         Jim, I don't hear the voice and babe 
                         I didn't hear the song!

                                     JIM
                         So what are we going to tonight Paul! 
                         67 takes! It's stale!

                                     RAY
                              (coming in with JOHN)
                         Alright, let's try something else.

                                     JIM
                         I wanna sing blues. This stuffs 
                         getting too self-conscious.

                                     ROBBIE
                              (offended)
                         Cause it's my song man?

                                     JIM
                              (simultaneous, 
                              incomprehensible)
                         Let's sing "Rock is Dead"! You're 
                         all a buncha slaves... "Oh come all 
                         ye faithful."

                                     PAUL
                              (hot)
                         Shut up Jim! I don't understand! I 
                         don't. What are ya doing! I love you 
                         like a brother, I do, but why are 
                         you fucking this up. It's a perfect 
                         radio song for chrissake! No one 
                         wants to hear the blues anymore! 
                         Think like a singer, you're the only 
                         baritone crooner we got left... 
                         Sinatra, Elvis, Crosby, you're as 
                         good as they are, but WHY ARE YOU 
                         FUCKING THIS UP! WHY!

               Pause. Jim's face darkening. Something he sees on the 
               television. He stops, frozen, sickly. Several BIMBETTES are 
               dancing around a shiny new automobile as strains of LIGHT MY 
               FIRE pop out.

                                     JIM
                         Catchy, you sold it to a commercial?

               Ray, Siddons, Robbie, John, shuffling for a moment.

                                     JIM
                         For that? How much did you get for 
                         it?

                                     RAY
                         Now, Jim...

                                     JIM
                         HOW MUCH?

                                     SIDDONS
                         It was $50,000. You weren't talking 
                         to us that week and we figgered you...

                                     JIM
                         You figured? What the fuck is this 
                         Ray?

                                     RAY
                         It's not like a big deal Jim, the 
                         song's already been commercialized, 
                         the money was great. Robbie wrote 
                         the lyrics and he didn't mind, neither 
                         did I, neither did John... we gotta 
                         get to TV.

                                     JIM
                         What?... are you saying? Are we the 
                         Doors? One for all and all for one? 
                         Do you know what you're saying to 
                         those millions of kids! "Just kidding, 
                         not real". That's what you're saying.

                                     JOHN
                         Oh come on man, you think just cause 
                         you're the lead man in the band you 
                         can run the whole show.

                                     JIM
                              (building intensity)
                         You think I was kidding Ray?
                              (turning to John)
                         Hey John, those are interesting shoes, 
                         you like those shoes?

               PAMELA, looking drawn and pathetic finds this moment to walk 
               into the studio.

                                     JOHN
                              (aggressive)
                         Yeah I do.

                                     JIM
                         Good. Then do you want 50 of those 
                         shoes?

                                     JOHN
                         No.

                                     JIM
                         Then what do you need more money 
                         for?

               Pause. Turning to Ray.

                                     JIM
                         I'm dying Ray. I wasn't kidding. 
                         Maybe you were. But I'll tell you 
                         something, it's not about these 
                         desires you have man, or money, or 
                         these records, it's about breaking 
                         through wasn't it? You just lost 
                         something man.
                              (to all)
                         We all lost something boys. We lost 
                         something.

                                     RAY
                         I don't think so Jim. There's a bigger 
                         picture here.

                                     JIM
                         There sure is. In your fucking face!

               A small smile flickers Jim's face as he picks up the small 
               TV and like a quarterback, hurls it, spinning end over end 
               from his corner of the Control Room towards Ray and Rothchild 
               and the Doors. They dive for the floor as it smashes to bits 
               into the wall behind the tape machines.

                                     JIM
                              (quietly)
                         Just kidding...
                              (turning to Pam)
                         Hi Pam. Just watchin' some TV.

               He seems pleased to distract his anger into her. She doesn't 
               seem to notice anything unusual going on. The Doors silent, 
               feeling Jim's rage.

                                     PAM
                              (pathetic)
                         I wanted you to find us Jim. It meant 
                         nothing.

                                     JIM
                         I know. I know.

                                     PAM
                         You don't have to torture me Jim. 
                         Let me make it up to you, please...

               The others all look away embarrassed. This is certainly a 
               moment the ordinary partner might turn away from Pamela, her 
               tears running, but her pathacy, her inability to deal with 
               pain is precisely what moves Jim the most -- a side of himself 
               in her -- an ultimate weakness she has, he shares. As he 
               goes to her, puts his arms gently around her.

                                     JIM
                         It's alright honey, it's gonna be 
                         alright. You're my girl and that's 
                         the way it's always gonna stay.

                                     PAM
                              (snuggles him, zoned)
                         Really...?

                                     JIM
                              (ironic, to the others)
                         So, let's keep that money machine 
                         rolling. Come on guys...

               Rothchild looking to Botnick and to Ray. But the real look, 
               the unforgiving one, is from Jim to Ray who feels it. 
               Rothchild douses the lights in the studio.

                                     PAUL
                         Right on Jimbo.

                                                               TIME CUT TO:

               Overdubb of DOORS SONG SOFT PARADE - Jim's VOICE booming 
               thru the studio.

                                     JIM
                              (reciting)
                         When I was back there in seminary 
                         school 
                         There was a person there 
                         Who put forth the proposition 
                         That you can petition the Lord with 
                         prayer 
                         Petition the Lord with prayer 
                         Petition the Lord with prayer
                         PETITION THE LORD WITH PRAYER

               ROTHCHILD looking from his booth across at Jim. His POV -- 
               only JIM is visible.

                                     PAUL
                         Where the hell did she go?

               In the control booth RAY and ROBBIE share a look. The lights 
               have been dimmed in Jim's booth, and he's weaving back and 
               forth a bottle of Ripple in his hand as they kick in with 
               the music. Camera closing now on Jim in the tender section, 
               on the money.

                                     JIM & DOORS
                         Can you give me sanctuary 
                         I must find a place to hide 
                         A place for me to hide...

               In the darkened booth, PAM is on her knees his pants worked 
               down around his ankles, caressing him, sucking him off.

                                     PAM
                              (sotto voice)
                         ...sing to me, Jim, sing to me.

                                     JIM & DOORS
                         Can you find me soft asylum 
                         I can't make it any more 
                         The man is at the door

               The DOORS sense it. ROTHCHILD knows it, hushed. Magic's 
               suddenly in the air once more as we jump stanzas to:

                                     JIM & DOORS
                         Catacombs, nursury bones 
                         Winter women 
                         Streets and shoes, avenues 
                         Leather riders selling shoes
                              (The monk bought lunch)
                         Successful hills are here to stay 
                         Everything must be this way 
                         Gentle street where people play 
                         Welcome to the soft parade

               But Jim's voice has now gone off key, floating carefree, 
               drifting -- drifting away.

               ROTHCHILD chuckles, philosophically.

               The Doors in control booth start leaving. Robbie goes back 
               out to get his personal items.

               But the OVERDUB still plays over the booth as Jim doesn't 
               realize. We take liberties cutting around on the song.

                                     JIM & DOORS
                         All our lives we sweat and save 
                         Building for a shallow grave
                              (then)
                         The soft parade has now begun 
                         Listen to the engines hum 
                         People out to have some fun 
                         A cobra on my left 
                         Leopard on my right

               The Doors and ROTHCHILD all exiting, leaving BOTNICK the 
               engineer to clean up some technical things... and of course 
               the two occupants of the darkened booth.

                                     JIM SONG
                              (fiercely)
                         Calling on the dogs (5) 
                         When all else fails 
                         You can whip the horses' eyes 
                         And make them sleep 
                         And cry.

               The music stops. Silence.

               Inside the booth, two shadows breathe deep, huddled on the 
               floor in each other's arms. A whisper out of the dark.

                                     PAM
                         I love you.

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

               JIM his head cocked, lost in the memory.

                                     JIM
                              (reciting)
                         Why does my mind circle around you? 
                         Why do planets wonder what it would 
                         be like to be you? 
                         All your soft wild promises were 
                         words, birds, 
                         Endlessly in flight 
                         Being drunk is the best disguise 
                         As the body is ravaged 
                         The spirit grows stronger

               Pause. He coughs horribly, the phlegm sucking out his chest 
               with a horrid, asthmatic sound which he douses with another 
               cigarette and another shot of whiskey. The Bushmills now two 
               thirds empty. He looks over at the MYSTERY WOMAN now beside 
               him at the microphone. MIKE and the SECRETARY watch.

               The bored ENGINEER across the darkened midnight room yawns.

                                     ENGINEER
                         Let's send out for some pizza Jim.

                                     JIM
                         Nah, how 'bout some tacos when we're 
                         through?
                              (downs another shot, 
                              continues)
                         The world on fire 
                         Taxi from Africa 
                         The grand hotel he was drunk a big 
                         party last night back, going back in 
                         all directions sleeping these insane 
                         hours I'll never wake up in a good 
                         mood again 
                         I'm sick of these stinky boots 
                         Do you know we are being led to 
                         slaughters by placid admirals? 
                         And that fat slow generals are getting 
                         obscene on young blood? 
                         Do you know we are ruled by TV?
                              (pause)

                                                      SLOW DISSOLVE BEGINS:

                                     JIM
                         Oh great Creator of Being 
                         Grant us one more hour to perform 
                         our art and perfect our lives 
                         The moths and atheists are doubly 
                         divine in dying 
                         We live, we die, and death not ends 
                         it 
                         Journey we more into the nightmare 
                         We're reaching for death on the end 
                         of a candle 
                         We're trying for something that's 
                         already found us...

                                                             DISSOLVING TO:

               INT. MIAMI AUDITORIUM - NIGHT (1969)

               Crammed into every available space of an old SEAPLANE HANGAR 
               with no seats -- standing room only -- a MASS of KIDS swelter 
               in the heat, grumbling, fanning themselves with programs as 
               a warm-up BAND plays.

               In the wings of the stage, a RADIO DJ/CRITIC is recording on 
               tape. It's the same kid we saw long ago at the Whiskey 
               backstage, pronouncing the arrival of the Doors on the scene. 
               Now he's got a beard, glasses, a more cynical face.

                                     RADIO DJ/CRITIC
                              (into microphone)
                         A hot night in Miami January '69 -- 
                         every space in the auditorium is 
                         consumed... unfortunately the Doors 
                         have long since sold out. They've 
                         become an act. Morrison "falls" off 
                         the stage at least every other 
                         performance. "The Soft Parade" album 
                         only confirms the plasticity of their 
                         approach. Songs like "Touch Me" and 
                         "Follow Me Down" are not the Doors 
                         we once knew. So the question is: 
                         Why am I here? Are funerals 
                         entertainment?

               DENSMORE looks on from the stage wings, withdraws -- to RAY 
               nearby.

                                     DENSMORE
                         He ain't gonna show! I know it man. 
                         We should fuckin' go on without him.

                                     RAY
                         Bill's with him. They're an hour 
                         away, he'll get him here.

               INT. NEW ORLEANS AIRPORT BAR - SAME NIGHT

               SIDDONS, the manager tugs on MORRISON who's getting soused 
               with DOG, TOM, MIKE, and ROTHCHILD the producer. The P.A. 
               SYSTEM announcing the departure of the Miami flight!

                                     SIDDONS
                         Goddamit Jim! We missed one already, 
                         we gotta get this one man!

               Jim slams has shot glass on the bar. He's got a beard for 
               the first time, looking like a tribal elder.

                                     JIM
                         More!

                                     MIKE
                         Four more all around and up and down!

               As the WAITRESS takes the order

                                     SIDDONS
                              (urgent)
                         NO! CUT EM OFF! CUT EM OFF!

                                     JIM
                         Don't be so melodramatic Bill, it's 
                         not fun anymore.

                                     DOG
                         I can't fly sober.

                                     SIDDONS
                         Jim, you don't show for this one, 
                         we're dead, the whole group -- no 
                         more bookings.

                                     JIM
                         I care.

                                     PAUL
                         Come on Jim, we'll get fuckin' laid 
                         in Miami.

                                     SIDDONS
                         We need the work Jim! They're making 
                         us post a $10,000 bond just to show 
                         up -- we're the only group in rock-n-
                         roll with a fuck clause!
                              (aside to Dog)
                         Get him on the fuckin' plane. That's 
                         what I pay you for.

                                     DOG
                              (to Bill)
                         You're an awful little guy to be 
                         talking like that.

                                     JIM
                              (muttering)
                         Chump change, we're working for chump 
                         change.

                                     SIDDONS
                         Look at you, you're a pathetic fuckin' 
                         slob and so are all your friends!

                                     JIM
                         I got an idea Bill, you're fired.

                                                               INTERCUT TO:

               INT. MIAMI AUDITORIUM - THAT NIGHT

               The warm-up BAND is applauded and booed. The CROWD resembles 
               a pit of snakes, wriggling on top of each other. Impatient 
               CATCALLS.

               INT. DRESSING ROOM - NIGHT

                                     JOHN
                         Listen to 'em! They're not coming 
                         for the music anymore. They're coming 
                         to see a fuckin' freak show!

                                     RAY
                         You think it's easy for him. He moves 
                         left he's got vice squad, on the 
                         right narcs -- and the audience just 
                         waiting for him to get busted.

                                     JOHN
                         He wanted it! Not us. I just don't 
                         fuckin' get the point anymore. I 
                         never did I guess. Y'ask me he's 
                         just become a drunken fuckin' asshole 
                         that's what. And he's gonna take us 
                         down with him.

                                     RAY
                         Compassion was never your forte man.

                                     JOHN
                         Don't lecture me Mr. Philosopher, 
                         you never felt a fuckin thing in 
                         your life. I loved that man. I loved 
                         what he was.

               Robbie strums his guitar, breaks the tension in the room. A 
               lick of "Five to One".

                                     ROBBIE
                         It ain't the old Jim that's for sure. 
                         I think he's living for everybody 
                         else man and somewhere along the way 
                         he's lost his own self.

                                     RAY
                              (almost to himself)
                         The wine man, the ancient wine. The 
                         ancient wine.

                                     ROBBIE
                         What?

                                     RAY
                         Something he once told us. About 
                         Dionysos. When the madness took 
                         over...

                                                               INTERCUT TO:

               OMIT

               Sequence omitted from original script.

               INT. AIRPLANE - THAT NIGHT

               The STEWARDESS, uptight, tries a smile at JIM, TOM, MIKE all 
               belted in one row.

                                     STEWARDESS
                         My name is Rita Hager and if...

                                     JIM
                         If your name is Rita, then yor ol 
                         man must be ol man Rita!!
                              (guffaws)

                                     TOM, MIKE & DOG
                              (chorusing)
                         That ol man Riva, he just keep rolling 
                         along!

                                     STEWARDESS
                         Excuse me sir, my father is not my 
                         old man.

               A BABY, with her MOTHER, stares at Jim fascinated. He lifts 
               his dark glasses, winks back at her.

                                                                TIMECUT TO:

               The STEWARDESS slips the oxygen mask over her face.

                                     STEWARDESS
                         In the event of a decrease of 
                         pressure, pull the oxygen mask to 
                         your...

                                     TOM
                         Ma ol lady had one of those but she 
                         calls it a diaphragm when I'm eating 
                         her out!

                                     DOG
                         Nah, it's a douche bag on a dixie 
                         cup.

                                     STEWARDESS
                         I'm sorry sir, but you're embarrassing 
                         me.

                                     MIKE
                         Great tits.

                                     SIDDONS
                         Come on guys, cool it!

               Other PASSENGERS looking over.

                                                               TIME CUT TO:

               In flight. Dog squeezes from the lavatory and drops a small 
               bar of soap in Jim's drink. They laugh, push, yell. Jim is 
               smoking a cigar.

                                     JIM
                              (teasing to Rothchild 
                              in the row behind 
                              him)
                         C'mon Paul, you can get us some heroin 
                         man.

                                     PAUL
                              (suddenly serious)
                         No I can't and I won't.

                                     JIM
                         Why not?

                                     PAUL
                         Cause I don't want to participate in 
                         anything that would accomplish your 
                         goal?

                                     JIM
                              (wry)
                         Oh and what is my goal Paul? Death?

                                     PAUL
                         "Death old friend".

                                     JIM
                              (laughing)
                         Wrong. I just want the pure beauty 
                         of absolute zero and sing the blues 
                         man -- do nuthin, go nowhere, just 
                         be.

                                     TOM
                         With that waistline Jimbo you got no 
                         choice.

                                     JIM
                              (laughs, goodnatured)
                         What's wrong with being a large 
                         mammal, a big beast like a tank. I 
                         feel great!

                                     DOG
                         Yeah. What's wrong with being fat.

                                     TOM
                         You mean "Crawling King Flab"? Rock 
                         is cock babe and your rock is dyin'.

                                     JIM
                         Rock is death! There is no longer 
                         belief. Hey, I'll write poetry and 
                         direct movies.

                                     TOM
                         And what are you offering? Sex? You 
                         can't get it up. Salvation? You can't 
                         even save yourself. Come on Jim, 
                         you're not gonna be remembered.

                                     JIM
                         Miss?...

                                     STEWARDESS
                         What do you need?

                                     JIM
                         Some love.

                                     MIKE
                         They'll still be talking about Jim 
                         when you're a walk on Baker. I'll 
                         make you a deal. When you do 
                         something, I'll criticize it.

                                     TOM
                         I think you both should take your 
                         heads out of the toilet bowl. After 
                         "Soft Parade" You need an album 
                         sweetheart.

                                     MIKE
                         You should take it outta your ass.

                                     JIM
                         The first two novels come along they 
                         love you, next few they slam but if 
                         you stay around long enough, one day 
                         they say, "hey he's part of the 
                         national psyche".

                                     STEWARDESS
                         What are you drinking?

                                     MIKE
                         Screwdrives-her.
                              (lifts her skirt)

                                     STEWARDESS
                              (to Siddons)
                         I'm going to have to call the captain 
                         if you can't control these people. I 
                         guarantee that.

                                     TOM
                              (a cruel sarcasm Jim 
                              seems to enjoy)
                         ...if you live long enough, don't 
                         kid yourself Jimbo -- you're all 
                         alone out there, Jimbo, cept for me, 
                         cause you're too wacked out man, 
                         they're scared, you're too fuckin 
                         crazy.

                                     JIM
                              (feigning innocence)
                         I wasn't mad, Tom. I was only 
                         interested in freedom.

                                     TOM
                              (the devil)
                         Bullshit! You're bored, you're not 
                         free. You tested all the limits, 
                         fame, fucking, money, -- whatcha 
                         gonna do now Jimbo! When the music's 
                         over, when you're too fat and ugly 
                         to get on a stage, whatcha gonna do 
                         for act three -- puke on Heaven's 
                         door?

                                     JIM
                         Listen you two bit fuckin actor, you 
                         underestimate the audience. You think 
                         they all want a better job, a house, 
                         two cars, money, that's what you 
                         think but you know what they really 
                         want, Tom, in their lives, what they 
                         really want --

                                     TOM
                         Tell me.

                                     JIM
                              (a whisper)
                         ...something sacred, that's what 
                         they want, something sacred.

               Tom spews the contents of his mouth all over Jim in response. 
               Jim throws his sandwich back at Tom... then another drink 
               goes...

                                     JIM
                         Fuck you ignorant devil's asshole 
                         slave!

                                     TOM
                         No you. Something sacred. My cock is 
                         sacred. Suck on that!

                                     JIM
                         I don't eat shrimp.

               A full fledged food fight in progress. Dog, Tom, Jim, Mike 
               pushing and shoving. A drink spills over an innocent 
               PASSENGER.

                                     DOG
                         Incoming!

               The STEWARDESS coming up with the CAPTAIN.

                                     CAPTAIN
                         ALL RIGHT!! If you young men don't 
                         change your attitude right now, when 
                         we get to Miami you're going to be 
                         arrested.

                                     JIM
                         Yes, sir.
                              (reflexively)

                                     TOM
                              (saluting)
                         YESSIR -- you asshole.

               EXT. MIAMI AIRPORT - SAME NIGHT

               PLANE taxiing up. TWO POLICE CARS, red lights revolving, are 
               waiting.

               INT. PLANE - SAME NIGHT

               PILOT escorting FOUR FBI AGENTS aboard.

                                     CAPTAIN
                         As captain of this ship I'm placing 
                         all four of you under arrest. The 
                         FBI will...

                                     MIKE
                         For what! What'd we do!

                                     TOM
                         Read me my rights, motherfuckers... 
                         motherfuckin bulls!

               JIM stunned in his drunkenness. SIDDONS and ROTHCHILD 
               protesting AD LIBS.

               INT. MIAMI AUDITORIUM - THAT NIGHT

               The CROWD is heckling a long-haired HIPPIE in a leather hat 
               who cradles a live, snow-white LAMB telling him to "GET OFF", 
               screaming AD LIB for the "DOORS, DOORS, DOORS!! JIM JIM JIM!!"

                                     HIPPIE
                         Look at this thing! Look at this 
                         beautiful little living thing!! How 
                         can you eat it!! How can you eat its 
                         flesh???

               CATCALLS. Angry fists pound the edge of the proscenium. Bodies 
               push and pack against each other. If Hieronymus Bosch had 
               painted a rock concert, this would be it.

                                     HIPPIE
                         LOVE ANIMALS, DON'T EAT THEM!!!! 
                         (Boos!!)

               INT. BACKSTAGE - THAT NIGHT

               Excitement. EVERYBODY moving fast...

               ...as JIM, dark sunglasses and beard, surrounded by TWO FBI 
               AGENTS and his BODYGUARDS move toward the stage, two hours 
               late. SIDDONS with him arguing AD LIB with RAY and the 
               PROMOTER, a southern sleazeball with long muttonchops and 
               velvet shirt and beads. A mess -- the CROWD chanting DOORS! 
               DOORS! DOORS! DOORS!

                                     SIDDONS
                              (screaming at promoter)
                         What the FUCK happened to the SEATS!!
                              (grabs him)
                         What's the FUCKING IDEA man! THERE'S 
                         NO SEATS!

                                     PROMOTER
                         I took 'em out! What's wrong with 
                         that! We stuffed an extra five thou 
                         in there.
                              (pissed at Jim)
                         Where the fuck you been!

                                     SIDDONS
                         That wasn't THE FUCKING IDEA MAN!! 
                         We're gonna sue you!... We're pulling 
                         the plug.

                                     PROMOTER
                         So sue me! You're playing or you 
                         ain't leaving here with your equipment 
                         sonny!

                                     SIDDONS
                              (to Ray)
                         We're not playing.

               Meanwhile, JOHN arguing with RAY and JIM who sways, drunk. 
               The FBI agents get lost in the background.

                                     JOHN
                         I'm not going out there man!

                                     RAY
                         JOHN, C'MON!!

                                     JOHN
                         Look at him! I'm not going out there 
                         'till I get some sorta guarantee 
                         he's gonna stay in line. I've had it 
                         with this shit.

                                     JIM
                         Whatsa matter, scared Johnny boy?

                                     JOHN
                              (going physically for 
                              Jim)
                         YOU'RE A FUCKIN ASSHOLE MAN!!

                                     RAY
                         JOHN!! STOP IT!! COME ON!!

               Jim laughing, throws his arm around ROBBIE for support, ROBBIE 
               patient with him. John yelling as they approach the curtains 
               and the lights and the first monster realization of the 
               THOUSAND MOUTHS waiting in the pit of hell.

                                     JOHN
                         You're pushing death Morrison. 
                         Everybody thinks we're drug addicts 
                         cause of you Morrison.

                                     JIM
                         We the Beatles yet?

                                     JOHN
                              (held by Ray)
                         We took drugs to EXPAND MINDS ASSHOLE, 
                         not ESCAPE. I'M NOT GOING OUT THERE 
                         WITH YOU.

                                     JIM
                         Hey John y'ever eaten human flesh? 
                         When we get to New York, I know this 
                         chick...

                                     RAY
                              (taking John aside)
                         Come on man.

                                     JOHN
                         I'm not going out there!

                                     RAY
                         We'll talk tomorrow, we'll settle 
                         it. Just do it tonight man and...

               As JIM brings up a tiny vial with a lubricating head on it, 
               holds it to Robbie's lips playfully. They're in the shadows.

                                     JIM
                         ...just a touch Robbie, it's the 
                         funkiest stuff, you'll play like an 
                         orgasm tonight...

                                     ROBBIE
                         No man come on, I don't want any.

                                     JIM
                         ...just a little lick, come on trust 
                         me... for old times, the four of us, 
                         let's get together one more time,... 
                         the Doors man... Please. For me.

               Something so sincere in Jim's eyes. Robbie takes the fatal 
               lick. Jim smiles manically as the NUREMBERG SOUNDS of the 
               CROWD drown them out.

                                     ROBBIE
                         You said you love pain man, but you 
                         run from it every chance you get.

               INT. STAGE - SAME NIGHT

               The DOORS come out finally. The noise is overwhelming. Acid, 
               light, noise. Wagnerian Gods, Hitler...

               JIM spreading his arms like Icarus set to fly. The ROARS 
               redouble, their FEET stomping out:

                                     CROWD
                              (insane)
                         DOORS DOORS DOORS DOORS...

               Joints are thrown by the dozen on the stage at Jim's feet. 
               He is a god now as he bends regally, picks one up.

               COPS everywhere looking as...

               He lights it. The CROWD going nuts as the DOORS go into the 
               ominous introductory strains of FIVE TO ONE trying to get 
               the onus off Jim and the show on the road. The Audience knows 
               the song, go into a primal FOOT STOMP with it. Bras are thrown 
               on stage. Kids writhe madly in the primal Doors dance.

               People with SPARKLERS running through the hangar. CAMERA 
               FLASHBULBS popping throughout the show... get Jim on film 
               while you can.

               Jim, drunk, high, smoking the jay, won't go into the lyrics 
               right off, forcing the Doors to circle the beat again. He 
               jerks his hand back from the mike as if it were a hot wire.

                                     JIM
                         ARE YOU READY!!!!
                              (beat)
                         ARE YOU REAAAAAAADYYYYYYYYY!!

               The Crowd explodes once more. As a COP heads upstage to get 
               Jim for the joint -- he cooly flicks it back into the crowd, 
               avoiding disaster. Perfect timing as the Cop looks around, 
               suddenly distracted by:

               The Crowd yelling something. An INSANE TEENAGER stands on 
               the railing of a balcony above the auditorium, poised to 
               swan dive some 18 feet into the crowd. Which he now does, 
               arms held out like wings.

               The Crowd yells, parting to allow his bulk to smack the floor. 
               Pause. Cops rushing to the spot. The KID suddenly stands up, 
               unhurt, with a stoned out look on his face.

                                     TEENAGER
                         Wow!

               Then splits at a full run thru the crowd chased by the 
               perplexed Cops. Everybody surging back towards the stage as 
               JIM looses one of his primal SCREAMS.

                                     JIM
                         YAAAAAOOOOOOOOOOWWWWWW... Love my 
                         girl!
                              (song)
                         Five to one 
                         One in five 
                         No one here gets out alive 
                         You gets your baby 
                         I'll get mine 
                         Gonna make it, baby 
                         If we try

               He slobbers, drunk, slouches, stumbles, regains his balance. 
               The Crowd loves it, but Ray senses something wrong. Robbie 
               starts to feel the effects of the acid Jim gave him -- his 
               eyes registering fear.

                                     JIM & DOORS
                         The old get old 
                         The young get stronger 
                         May take a week 
                         And it may take longer 
                         They got the guns 
                         But we got the numbers 
                         Gonna win yeah -- WE'RE TAKING OVER!!

               During the instrumental break, Jim picks up one of the roses 
               from the floor, pokes it at John on the drums, who whacks it 
               to death on his skins. Jim starts to whirl the mike cord 
               like a slingshot or bolo, in an ever-widening arc...

               ...it flies off and smashes into the head of the PROMOTER at 
               the edge of the stage arguing with SIDDONS. The man is 
               staggered, weaving, Siddons helping him to a FIRST AID TEAM.

                                     JIM
                         YAAAAAAOOOOOOWWWWWWW!!!

               The crazy VEGETERIAN HIPPIE runs out on stage to give Jim 
               the white lamb to make this political point. Jim holds the 
               lamb in his arms. It's purring, gentle. DOG chases the HIPPIE 
               off as he gives the microphone back to Jim and takes the 
               lamb from him... he staggers over to ROBBIE and goes down to 
               his knees, pretending to give him head on his frantic stoned 
               guitar solo.

                                     JIM & DOORS
                         Your ballroom days are over baby 
                         Night is drawing near 
                         Shadows of the evening 
                         Crawl across the years 
                         You walk across the floor 
                         With a flower in your hand 
                         Tryin to tell me no one understands

               PHOTOGRAPHERS flashing cameras. BAKER urging him on from the 
               wings as he passes out. A GIRL runs onto the stage, dumps a 
               bottle of champagne on Jim's head. Jim takes his shirt off, 
               soaking wet. The CROWD is also stripping in the heat, shirts, 
               blouses, screaming so much now they are obviously way past 
               listening to any song. It has become a view of the future -- 
               the NAKED GIRL and BOY dancing stark naked drugged out in 
               the middle of it all, the FAT GIRL prowling naked on the 
               edge of the stage before she's arrested, the FIGHTS in the 
               Crowd, fists, blood, a black man chased and beaten, the sense 
               of Altamont here, the hippie flower trip gone to shit -- 
               it's all come down here tonight, the end of an era.

                                     JIM & DOORS
                         Trade in your hours for a handful of 
                         dimes 
                         Gonna make it baby -- in our prime 
                         Get together one more time 
                         Get together

               He stops singing suddenly, squinting out into the madness. 
               The arena echoes with the uncomprehending chant of the Mob...

                                     MOB
                         ...one more time 
                         Get together one more time 
                         Get together one more time

               SPECIAL EFFECT -- the INDIAN GHOST is leaving Jim's body -- 
               spectrally moving off him, hovering there in the air, its 
               eyes -- the face of a dying Indian on an Arizona highway -- 
               then gone. A moment, only three, four beats. An optical 
               illusion? Maybe. Or is it saying, 'now you are just a white 
               man'... maybe not. As it drifts off in a cloud, into the 
               vast audience's EYEBALL.

                                     JIM
                         YOU'RE ALL A BUNCHA FUCKIN SLAVES!!!

               The instruments continue to vamp but there's a hush to the 
               CROWD.

                                     JIM
                         Lettin people tell you what you're 
                         gonna do! Lettin people push you 
                         around! How long you think it's gonna 
                         last! How long you gonna let them 
                         push you around!!

               He waits. INTERCUTS of the FACES in the crowd.

                                     VOICES
                              (ignoring Jim)
                         "Light My Fire"! Play "Light My 
                         Fire"!! Come on Jim...
                              (some boos sprinkled 
                              in)
                         Take your clothes off man! Get wild! 
                         Fuck me baby. Fuck me girl, suck my 
                         cock honey around the world! Mexican 
                         whore suck my prick! Keeper of the 
                         royal sperm man! CELEBRATE THE LIZARD 
                         MAN, DRAIN IT MOTHERFUCKER!!

                                     JIM
                         C'MON GET IT ALL OUT! ALL THE LITTLE 
                         HATREDS, Everything inside you... 
                         LET ME HAVE IT!

                                     CROWD
                         FUCK YOU!

                                     JIM
                         THAT'S THE ONE LITTLE WORD I WANTED 
                         TO HEAR! THAT'S THE VERY LITTLE WORD! 
                         THE WHOLE WORLD HATES ME! THE WHOLE 
                         FUCKING WORLD HATES ME!

                                     VOICE
                              (girl)
                         SAVE US... SAVE US, JIM... JIM! 
                         EEEE... I TOUCHED HIM.

                                     JIM
                         Maybe you love it, maybe you love 
                         gettin your faces pressed into the 
                         shit of the world! You'd all eat 
                         shit wouldn't ya!! Adolph Hitler is 
                         ALIVE AND WELL HERE IN MIAMI!! YOU'RE 
                         ALL A BUNCHA SLAVES!!

               The Crowd BOOS back at him, surging suddenly with hatred for 
               Jim. Intercut the Crowd -- feel this hatred.

                                     JIM
                         WHAT ARE YA GONNA DO ABOUT IT! WHAT 
                         ARE YA GONNA DO ABOUT IT! WHAT ARE 
                         YA GONNA DO ABOUT IT!

               The Band has petered out by this point but out of nowhere, 
               ROBBIE, zonked on his version of LSD, starts up with "TOUCH 
               ME BABE."

                                     JIM & DOORS
                              (going with it)
                         Come on, come on, come on and FUCK 
                         me babe! Can't you see that I am not 
                         afraid
                              (cuts the music)
                         HEY WAIT A MINUTE...
                              (music cuts off 
                              raggedly)
                         Miami Beach Florida hunh? I was BORN 
                         and RAISED not far from here... went 
                         to Florida State...
                              (cheers)
                         Then I GOT SMART. I went to California 
                         where you can let your hair grow 
                         long and walk down the street without 
                         people calling you a FREAK... They're 
                         trying to CHANGE THE WORLD out there 
                         in California.

                                     VOICES
                         Yeah, STOP THE WAR MAN, PEACEEE... 
                         WE LOVE YA JIM.

                                     JIM
                         NO I'm not talkin' 'bout NO 
                         REVOLUTION. I'm not talkin 'bout no 
                         DEMONSTRATION. I'm talking 'bout 
                         HAVING SOME FUN. I'm talkin' 'bout 
                         DANCIN. I'm talkin 'bout LOVE. I'm 
                         talkin' 'bout some LOVE. LOVE LOVE 
                         LOVE LOVE... LOVE!!!! Grab your friend -- 
                         and LOVE him. Come oooooaaaannnnn. 
                         Yeah!

               Jim pulling his shirt off -- barechested -- waving it like a 
               toreador in front of his leather crotch.

                                     VOICES
                              (cheers, giggles)
                         "Light My Fire"! Come on Jim -- play 
                         "Light My Fire"!

               The audience seems to be paying no attention to what he is 
               doing or saying, which drives him to deeper rage.

                                     JIM
                         Ain't nobody gonna love my ass? Come 
                         on... I need ya. There's so many of 
                         ya out there and nobody's gonna love 
                         me! C'mon -- what'cha come here for 
                         anyway? You didn't come here for 
                         music. You didn't come here to see a 
                         good band. You came here for THIS 
                         didn't ya...

               He saunters to the edge of the stage. Hisses at them. He 
               clasps his crotch, leering at a cute LITTLE GIRL in the front 
               row, shaking it at her. Her BOYFRIEND, pissed at Jim, runs 
               for the stage. Jim unzips his leathers.

                                     JIM
                         I'm lonely out here -- Ya wanna SEE 
                         IT... COME ON SWEETHEART... I need 
                         it, I NEED IT, need ya, need ya, 
                         NEED YA, COME OOOOOAAAANNNNNNN...

               Chaos, confusion now erupt in the crowd! The BOYFRIEND is 
               running at JIM as the BODYGUARDS throw him back into the 
               crowd. Jim flicking his shirt over his crotch, back and forth 
               like a drunken matador. The Doors look at each other, don't 
               know what's going to happen.

                                     JIM
                         Didja see it! You wanna see it 
                         AGAIN???

               The crowd roars its approval. Confusion reigns. Drunken 
               CATCALLS. Things, bras, cans thrown at the stage.

                                     VOICES
                              (ad lib)
                         Take it off! Take it all off!

                                     JIM
                         What if I pull it out fer ya!! And 
                         SHAKE IT AROUND!!! Will that do it 
                         for you! Would ya, would ya, would 
                         ya!! Now watch -- I'm gonna show it 
                         to ya!

               He feigns opening his belt and exposing himself, flipping 
               his shirt back and forth over the crotch in a mock striptease.

                                     JIM
                         There it was! Ya see it? Ya see it?... 
                         Ya wanna see it again?

               A flock of TEENAGE GIRLS are sure they've seen it, hysterical.

                                     TEENAGE GIRL
                         I saw it!... Yes, yes! Jim! Jim!

                                     TEENAGE GIRL 2
                         Where? I didn't see it.

                                     JIM
                              (roaring out his 
                              commands)
                         COME ON UP HERE AND LOVE MY ASS! I 
                         WANNA SEE SOME ACTION OUT THERE! I 
                         WANNA SEE SOME ACTION OUT THERE! I 
                         WANNA SEE SOME ACTION OUT THERE! I 
                         WANNA SEE SOME ACTION OUT THERE! I 
                         WANT YOU TO LOVE MY ASS! I WANT SOME 
                         LOVE... LOVE... LOVE... LOVE C'MON, 
                         C'MON... NO LIMITS, NO LAWS YOU WANNA 
                         FUCK? COME ON! COME ON UP HERE!!!!!

               He looks like he's really gonna tear it all off now. A flash 
               of boxer shorts. RAY moving. SIDDONS moving. DOG getting to 
               him first, wrapping him in a bearhug from behind, lifting 
               him holding his pants up.

                                     VINCE THE ROADIE
                         DON'T DO IT MAN. DON'T DO IT!

                                     RAY
                         HEY JIM.

                                     JIM
                         C'MON! C'MON! NO LIMITS, NO LAWS! NO 
                         LIMITS, NO LAWS! NO LIMITS, NO LAWS!

               The place is in PANDEMONIUM now. GIRLS jumping on stage and 
               dancing with Jim still in Vince the Roadie's bearhug. Another 
               RIOT... COPS fighting the TEENAGERS off the stage, now 
               wobbling under the weight.

                                     PROMOTER
                              (pissed, head bandaged)
                         GET OFF THE FUCKING STAGE! GET OFF 
                         THE FUCKING STAGE!!
                              (stiffarms Jim off 
                              the stage)

               RAY starts playing BREAK ON THROUGH trying to keep things 
               normal.

               JIM now out there in the arena in a CONGA LINE, doing his 
               rain dance, hands on hips, the TEENAGERS forming a long snake 
               behind him.

               The huge speaker columns teeter and fall. A corner of the 
               STAGE now COLLAPSES from the weight, PEOPLE spilling on the 
               floor, screams. The power console tips over next to DENSMORE. 
               He bails. Manzarek and Krieger follow.

               The PROMOTER is yelling at SIDDONS about his insurance 
               contract as the COPS and FBI AGENTS close in, looking for 
               Jim.

                                     COPS
                         Where's the guy with the penis!

               Who is out there leading his naked drunken FLOCK, hundreds 
               of them in a phallic Pied Piper dance thru the darkened 
               seaplane hanger. From BREAK ON THROUGH PART TWO:

                                     JIM ET AL & DOORS
                         You know the day destroys the night 
                         Night divides the day 
                         Try to run, try to hide 
                         BREAK ON THROUGH TO THE OTHER SIDE 
                         BREAK ON THROUGH TO THE OTHER SIDE 
                         BREAK ON THROUGH TO THE OTHER SIDE 
                         Dead cats! Dead rats! Did you see 
                         what they were at Dead cat in a top 
                         hat! Sucking on a young man's blood 
                         Fat cat in a top hat 
                         Thinks he's an aristocrat 
                         Thinks he can kill and slaughter 
                         Thinks he can shoot my daughter 
                         Dead cats! Dead rats! Think you're 
                         an aristocrat Crap, that's crap

               Ray watching from the corner of the stage, littered with 
               bras, bottles, shirts, shoes, socks, panties, hats, broken 
               equipment, debris -- the end of the dream. The Doors as a 
               live band are dead.

                                                             DISSOLVING TO:

               INT. MIAMI COURTROOM - DAY (1970)

               The "Charges" are being read by the JUDGE, distant, not of 
               this world. The court is lit in southern gothic daylight, 
               ghostly chiaroscuro, all colors bled. Camera moving along 
               the sweaty white faces of the six older JURORS, all of them 
               straight "silent majority"... past the PROSECUTOR, his shadow 
               cutting the jury box... onto JIM bearded, smoking 2 packs a 
               day, a deep racking cough, sitting with his elder ATTORNEY... 
               RAY, ROBBIE, JOHN, PAMELA, OTHERS in support are there in 
               background. The trial is going down like a morphine dream, 
               Jim featured in diopter close-up.

                                     JUDGE VOICE
                         ...you are charged under four counts 
                         with lewd behavior, simulated 
                         masturbation, public drunkenness, 
                         profanity, and public exposure.

               A blues riff goes by -- brief, ghostly from RUNNING BLUE.

               JIM SONG 
               Poor Otis dead and gone 
               Left me here to sing his song 
               Pretty little girl with the red dress on 
               Poor Otis dead and gone

                                     JIM (V.O.)
                         I can't believe this is happening 
                         I can't believe all these people are 
                         sniffing each other & backing away, 
                         teeth grinning, hair raised, growling, 
                         here in the slaughtered wind 
                         This is it 
                         No more fun the death of all joy has 
                         come

               The PRESS SECTION is full as Jim's older LAWYER argues in 
               front of the JURY, a distant voice.

                                     LAWYER
                         Your Honor, I would like to bring to 
                         the Court's attention the contemporary 
                         Broadway musical "Hair" in which 
                         cast members disrobe and appear naked 
                         on the stage.

                                     JUDGE
                              (pounds his gavel)
                         Inadmissable evidence.

                                     JIM VOICE OVER
                         I had a vision of America 
                         Seen from the air 28,000 ft. & going 
                         fast 
                         A one-armed man in a Texas parking 
                         labyrinth 
                         A burnt tree like a giant primeval 
                         bird in an empty lot in Fresno

                                                           SUPERIMPOSITION:

                                     LAWYER
                         Your Honor... any difference from 
                         the Miami nightclubs where comedians 
                         frequently incorporate profanity 
                         into their acts

                                     JUDGE
                              (gavel)
                         Inadmissable evidence.

                                     JIM VOICE OVER
                         Miles & miles of hotel corridors & 
                         elevators, filled with citizens 
                         Motel 
                         Money 
                         Murder, Madness 
                         Change the mood from glad to sadness 
                         Play the ghost song baby

               The backbeat of WHEN THE MUSIC'S OVER starts, into its 
               spiralling descent.

                                                           SUPERIMPOSITION:

                                     LAWYER
                              (distant)
                         ...there has not been one shred of 
                         evidence: 300 photographs and not 
                         one shows a thing; not reliable 
                         testimony, nothing but hysterical 
                         heresay

               The PRESS is bored, their numbers reduced. The spectators 
               have changed from kids to OLDER PEOPLE intent on preserving 
               their way of life. A TAPE is playing of Jim's devil voice at 
               the concert, cursing: "Come on up here. No limits! No laws", 
               etc... (screams, obscenity)

               JIM & DOORS 
               (SONG) 
               When the music's over (3) 
               Turn out the lights (3) 
               For the music is your special friend 
               Dance on fire as it intends 
               Music is your only friend 
               Until the end (2)

                                                        SUPERIMPOSITION TO:

                                     LAWYER
                         ...this is a major First Amendment 
                         violation by the Police and 
                         Politicians of Miami. Every witness 
                         they've brought has admitted under 
                         oath to not actually seeing the 
                         client's genitals -- except one who...

               The PRESS section is now down to about THREE bored FACES, 
               one of them PATRICIA KENNEALY who looks pregnant.

               JIM smiles at her.

               JIM & DOORS 
               Cancel my subscription to the Resurrection 
               Send my credentials to the house of detention 
               I got some friends inside

               EXT. ORANGE BOWL - MIAMI - DOCUMENTARY FOOTAGE (DAY)

               ANITA BRYANT & JACKIE GLEASON at the NATIONAL DECENCY RALLY. 
               A large CROWD in the vicinity of 100,000. NIXON addressing 
               them.

               JIM & DOORS SONG 
               (OVER) 
               The face in the mirror won't stop 
               The girl in the window won't stop 
               A feast of friends alive she cried 
               Waiting for me 
               Outside!

               MONTAGE -- NEWSPAPER HEADLINES SPIN OUT:

               JIMMI HENDRIX OVERDOSES IN LONDON.

               JANIS JOPLIN OVERDOSES IN LOS ANGELES.

               A ROLLING STONE WANTED POSTER ON JIM -- "In the County of 
               Dade/Dead -- Did He Or Didn't He?".

               JIM & DOORS SONG 
               (OVER) 
               Before I sink into the big sleep 
               I want to hear 
               The scream of the butterfly 
               Come back baby 
               Back into my arms

               INT. HOTEL ROOM - MIAMI BEACH - DAY

               The MUSIC continuing into a long backbeat without lyrics -- 
               emphasizing the downward spiralling theme...

                                     JIM
                         ...Well, you gonna get rid of it? 
                         Fucked up people y'know, crazies, 
                         unwanted Indians just throw it in 
                         the river.

               Pause. PATRICIA -- four and a half months pregnant, stares. 
               A glary window onto a balcony overlooking the sea with Florida 
               palms and a strip of beach. A room in a highrise hotel. Jim's 
               mess is everywhere.

                                     PATRICIA
                         I can't fucking believe you just 
                         said that!

                                     JIM
                         Patricia, wouldn't it be better to 
                         have a kid with someone who wanted 
                         to be its father?

                                     PATRICIA
                         It'd be a fucking genius, that's 
                         what it'd be! You and me. The child 
                         would be a god, goddess!

                                     JIM
                         It'd be a monster.

               A look. She's stunned, ugly wrath gathering. He tries to 
               soothe her.

                                     JIM
                         I got this trial dragging on me, 
                         Patricia. I couldn't support the kid -- 
                         I can't afford it and I don't want 
                         the responsibility right now.

                                     PATRICIA
                         You're a COWARD!! A LITTLE BOY!! The 
                         only way you can't afford it is 
                         emotionally. You forgot your vows 
                         man. They were forever in the goddess' 
                         sight. Death doesn't part, only love 
                         Jim!

                                     JIM
                         Come on Patricia, I was stoned... it 
                         seemed like the fun thing at the 
                         time.

               She pulls a dagger with a skull's head on it, goes for him.

                                     PATRICIA
                         I'm gonna cut your balls off Morrison!

                                     JIM
                              (that smile)
                         You want 'em?

                                     PATRICIA
                              (beat)
                         FUCK YOU. I'm gonna have the kid.

                                     JIM
                         Then it'll be your kid. If you want 
                         the abortion I'll pay for it and 
                         I'll come up to New York to be with 
                         you when you have it.

                                     PATRICIA
                         No you won't.

                                     JIM
                         Yes I will.

                                     PATRICIA
                         Bullshit Morrison
                              (release him, stalks)
                         You know who you are...
                              (pause)
                         NO. What difference does it make. 
                         You know, you never pretended. I 
                         did. I don't even like kids 
                         particularly,
                              (laughs to herself)
                         but I don't want the other thing 
                         either. I guess what I really want 
                         is to throw myself off this fucking 
                         balcony
                              (Hurls the knife out 
                              off the balcony)
                         Well now that you've fucked the 
                         future, Morrison, have you fucked 
                         everything?...
                              (cruelly)
                         Have you looked at yourself in the 
                         mirror. Your stomach...

                                     JIM
                              (hurt, near tears)
                         Please don't say those things to me, 
                         Patricia.

               She suddenly grasps him, clutching, hunger, lust.

                                     PATRICIA
                         Fuck me one last time, you worthless 
                         piece of shit.

               JIM & DOORS 
               ...the scream of the butterfly 
               Come back baby 
               Back into my arms

               On Jim's face.

               EXT. MIAMI COURTROOM - DAY

               TWO HUNDRED PERSONS are gathered on the lawn outside, banners 
               decrying the Doors. A MIDDLE AGED SPEAKER, clean cut, squarely 
               dressed, expresses his outrage.

                                     SPEAKER
                              (bullhorn)
                         ...endorsed by President Richard 
                         Nixon!
                              (cheers)
                         The immoral conduct of degenerates 
                         such as Jim Morrison is an 
                         unacceptable insult to this country 
                         and the principles for which it 
                         stands...

               JIM & DOORS 
               (OVER) 
               We're getting tired of hanging around 
               Waiting around with our heads to the ground 
               I hear the gentle sound 
               Very near yet very far 
               Very soft, yeah, very clear 
               Come today, come today

                                     JIM
                         Well uh, it's designed to wear you 
                         down y'know... when that rap sheet 
                         says the "United States of America 
                         versus You" it takes you down day by 
                         day, specially when no one really 
                         gives a shit about, y'know, the First 
                         Amendment that's on trial here... 
                         Nobody says anything about that, 
                         it's just uh did you take your pants 
                         off y'know, I mean that's not what 
                         it's about, it's about freedom, that's 
                         what it's about... but who cares, 
                         right? Freedom exists in a schoolbook.

                                     REPORTER 1
                              (disinterested)
                         ...but the promoters are cancelling 
                         your shows, will this affect the way 
                         you play?

                                     JIM
                         Well, I can only open doors, M'am. I 
                         can't drag people thru 'em. I'm no 
                         savior.

                                     REPORTER 2
                         But you've called yourself a shaman?

                                     JIM
                              (beat, pained)
                         Did I? Well, I'll tell ya, my words 
                         stand a far better chance of being 
                         around a hundred years from now than 
                         my waistline.

               As he goes into the courtroom, a dolled up REPORTER 1, the 
               local anchor-lady turns to her camera.

                                     ANCHORLADY
                         The question that will be answered 
                         today: Did Jim Morrison or did he 
                         not take off his pants last March? 
                         This is...

               INT. COURTROOM - THAT DAY

               The judge passing sentence, distant, hazy under song. Darkened 
               shadows across the floor, silhouettes... the world bleak and 
               white...

                                     JUDGE
                         James Douglas Morrison, I hereby 
                         sentence you to sixty days of hard 
                         labor in the Dade County Jail and 
                         for public exposure I am sentencing 
                         you to six months of the same, after 
                         which you are to serve two years and 
                         four months of probationary time. 
                         [...]

                                     SECRETARY
                              (overlapping)
                         I booked you round trip to New York 
                         for Thursday, Pamela's called six 
                         times, Patricia, Kathy, Judy, Gayle 
                         is pregnant, she says but... you 
                         gotta get straight, honey, go to 
                         sleep, get a massage, go to the 
                         dentist, get a haircut honey, you 
                         gotta cool out...

                                     JOHN
                         Probably a bath too...

                                     OFFICE BOY
                              (reading a rock 
                              magazine)
                         Jesus Jim, this guy really despises 
                         you.

                                     JOHN
                         ...didn't invite us to Woodstock. 
                         Twenty other groups but not...

                                     SIDDONS
                         What's heavy is the radio stations 
                         pulling us from their playlists. The 
                         big cities -- Philly, Cinci, Chicago, 
                         Detroit -- it's insane! Record sales 
                         suck!

                                     RAY
                              (with irony, reading 
                              something)
                         "The band you love to hate".

                                     LAWYER
                              (2nd Lawyer if 
                              necessary)
                         We can drag this appeal out for years, 
                         we can keep you out of jail.

                                     JIM
                              (drinking)
                         You're drinking with number three.

                                     SIDDONS
                         Max firmly believes the FBI's behind 
                         it. We're subpoenaing their records -- 
                         they had memos on you in Phoenix and 
                         they got you extradicted to Miami 
                         illegally without a felony...

                                     MIKE
                         A new image -- Jim Morrison as 
                         "Renaissance Man" -- We bring you 
                         back slow, quiet, the beard, elder 
                         of the tribe.

                                     OFFICE BOY
                              (reading from review)
                         ...like Lennon said "you either grow 
                         with the music or it grows without 
                         you."

                                     ROBBIE
                         Hey, it was fun.

               All the voices merging into one:

                                     VOICES
                         First Hendrix now Janis Robbie flew 
                         to Hawaii legalities pending 
                         dispositions book in Toronto interview 
                         with PBS renew your diverse license 
                         psychic predictions nine paternity 
                         suits fifty thousand dollar bond 
                         recoup our losses Pamela's shopping 
                         spree with your credit card Morrison 
                         Hotel some-body from film school 
                         mountain of coke in the broom closet 
                         Jac Holzman eight thirty in the 
                         morning remix perform schedule Paul 
                         Rothchild taxes Texas teenyboppers 
                         tomorrow.

               Jim, during this, picking up the TV remote, flicking on the 
               images. The VOICES blending with TV VOICES as he swithes the 
               channels. The camera moving in on Jim, the VOICES fading. 
               All we see is Jim. All we hear and see is the TV:

                                     TELEVISION
                         Chicago Seven in it's tenth day... 
                         Bobby Seale gagged and chained...
                              (click)
                         L.A. shootout with Black Panthers...
                              (click)
                         Charles Manson indicted for murder 
                         of actress Sharon Tate...
                              (click)
                         U. S. ground troops in Laos and 
                         Cambodia...
                              (click)
                         Indians still occupying Alcatraz 
                         Island...
                              (click)
                         For the My Lai massacre testified 
                         120 villagers shot by American 
                         soldiers in a trench...

               The SONG climaxes into an inner scream of madness.

               JIM & DOORS 
               (CONCLUDE) 
               For the music is your special friend 
               Dance on fire as it intends 
               Music is your only friend 
               Until the end (3) 
               (SCREAM!)

               Silence on Jim.

                                     JIM
                              (mildly)
                         I think I'm having a nervous 
                         breakdown.

               The sound of wind, the backbeat of LA WOMAN flooding in.

               EXT. CHATEAU MARMONT HOTEL - LOS ANGELES - NIGHT

               JIM dangles out on the narrow ledge that circumscribes the 
               20th floor rooftop -- wind blowing thru his wild hair, the 
               card zooming by like racer lights on Sunset below. The song 
               LA WOMAN continues born from this renewed feeling of danger.

               JIM & DOORS 
               Well I just got into town 'bout an hour ago 
               Took a look around, see which way the wind blow 
               Where the little girls in their Hollywood bungalows

               PAM screaming for him to come back from the edge as TOM BAKER 
               and MIKE and DOG and a CAMERAMAN film in 16mm.

                                     PAM
                         JIM! PLEASE GODDAMIT!! COME BACK IN 
                         PLEASE!!

               JIM yelling back, as he drinks from a pint of whiskey, 
               enjoying himself enormously.

                                     JIM
                         Whatcha worried about? I like it out 
                         here.

               He feigns a fall.

                                     PAM
                         NOOOOOO!!

               RAY and SIDDONS arrive, terrified, looking for him.

                                     JIM
                              (laughing at Pam)
                         Life on the edge baby. Come get me 
                         if you love me baby.

                                     PAM
                         PLEASE GODDAMIT JIM MORRISON I'M NOT 
                         GONNA KILL MYSELF FOR YOU. GET IN 
                         HERE.

               Jim cracking up with laughter. BAKER, drunk and the FILM 
               CREW love it, swishpanning with a cheap sungun.

                                     MIKE
                              (dancing)
                         We got it man! Keep going. Great get 
                         a two shot.

                                     BAKER
                         GO ON GET OUT THERE PAM.

               Pam is sufficiently cracked on her own set of drugs to start 
               climbing out onto the ledge, skirts blowing in the wind.

                                     PAM
                         JIM MORRISON GODDAMIT I LOVE YOU I 
                         WANT YOU I NEED YOU.

               Jim moving further along the ledge.

                                     JIM
                              (raw)
                         YOUR WHOLE LIFE'S BULLSHIT! YOU LOVE 
                         ME THEN COME AND GET ME.

               JIM & DOORS 
               (OVER) 
               LA Woman (X2) 
               LA Woman Sunday afternoon (X3) 
               Drive thru your suburbs 
               Into your blues (X2) 
               Into your blue-blue 
               Blues 
               Into your blues

               Siddons and Ray terrified. Is this the night it's finally 
               going to end in a suicide plunge? Ray trying to stop Pam, 
               too late.

                                     RAY
                         Pam!! Oh shit... get the ambulances 
                         man...

               Pam's moving shakily along the ledge, cracked on downers.

               Jim watching her come, amazed at her risk.

                                     RAY
                              (yelling down)
                         JIM! HELP HER. She's gonna fall.

                                     TOM
                         Jump!

               He watches, does nothing.

                                     JIM
                         Come on baby, come on.

                                     RAY
                              (trying another tack)
                         Jim we gotta finish "LA Woman".

                                     JIM
                         Don't have an ending Ray.

               Reaches his hand out. She is closer. But shaky.

                                     RAY
                              (white)
                         They're both gonna die... ARE YOU 
                         HAPPY YOU COCKSUCKERS!!

               Ray goes after Tom Baker and the Film Crew. A scuffle. 
               Yelling, shouting, but down below in the intimacy of the 
               ledge, blowing out on the edge, the wind and the world and 
               death. Two crazy children linked on this gothic balcony of 
               the Chateau reach their hands out for each other.

                                     JIM
                         Come on baby, come on

                                     PAM
                              (quoting him)
                         "...but one, the most beautiful one 
                         of all -- dances in a ring of fire --
                         "

                                     JIM
                              (raw singing)
                         "I see your hair is burning. If they 
                         say I never loved you, you know they 
                         are a liar!"

                                     PAM
                         "...and throws off the challenge 
                         with a shrug"

                                     JIM
                         All the poetry has wolves in it Pam!!!

               She has never been so concentrated, inching closer to him. 
               Her heels overhanging oblivion.

                                     PAM
                         I don't wanna die with you Jim 
                         Morrison, I don't wanna die!

               JIM & DOORS 
               Never saw a woman 
               So alone (X2) 
               So alone -- lone lone

                                     JIM
                         C'mon Pam, this is it! We'll do it 
                         right here! Right now! You and me!

               Ray, Tom, Siddons, Mike, Dog, they all watch in horror, 
               sensing it will happen. They have even stopped filming. 
               Inches... inches.

               He dodges her touch, confused... to the last possible second. 
               Then SHE'S THERE -- in his arms. Her arms latch around him 
               and she hugs him with all her wiry soul.

                                     PAM
                         Jim -- let's go, let's leave this 
                         town! You and me! Never come back.

                                     JIM
                              (demonic)
                         We can. Right now. Just one more 
                         step...

                                     PAM
                         No Jim. I want to LIVE with you. I 
                         want to LIVE with you.

               The two lovers huddled together on the ledge. He slips his 
               head down on her lap, looking up into her eyes with the 
               strangest tears in his eyes.

                                     JIM
                              (a poem)
                         There was preserved in her the fresh 
                         miracle of surprise... clothed in 
                         sunlight restless in wanting dying 
                         of fever married to doubt how it has 
                         changed you how slowly estranged you 
                         solely arranged you beg for your 
                         mercy -- OR -- ...but all will pass 
                         lie down in green grass and smile 
                         and muse and gaze upon her smooth 
                         resemblance to the mating-Queen who 
                         it seems is in love with the horseman 
                         Tomorrow we enter the tomb of my 
                         birth I want to be ready.

               On her face -- moved. Pause. LA WOMAN floods in on his smile, 
               an upbeat surge.

               Upstairs, the ONLOOKERS relax. HOTEL MANAGEMENT and COPS are 
               now rushing up in background.

               JIM & DOORS 
               Mr. Mojo Rising 
               Mr. Mojo Risin' (X2)

                                                               DISSOLVE TO:

               EXT. DOORS OFFICE - SANTA MONICA BL. - L.A. - DAY (1970)

               There's music rocking from the inside. Cables and baffles 
               run from the second story down to the rehearsal room on the 
               first.

               JIM & DOORS 
               Keep on risin' 
               Got to keep on risin' 
               Risin' Risin' (X8)

               INT. DOORS OFFICE - DAY

               The SECRETARIES and STAFF dance to the SOUND rocking thru 
               the floor.

               JIM & DOORS 
               Well I just got into town about an hour ago 
               Took a look around, see which way the wind blow

               Camera moving thru the offices, past the OFFICE BOY, past 
               SIDDONS, past the PUBLICIST, etc -- a farewell to the band.

               INT. BASEMENT - RECORDING STUDIO - DAY

               We see RAY, ROBBIE, JOHN, BOTNICK, a BASS and 2nd RHYTHM 
               GUITARIST, WIVES, GIRLFRIENDS but no Jim. They're really 
               driving, the music soars. PAMELA'S hair shaking as she swings 
               to the beat.

                                     JIM & DOORS
                         With a little girl in a Hollywood 
                         bungalow 
                         Are you a lucky lady in the City of 
                         Light? 
                         Or just another lost angel -- City 
                         of Night?

               INT. TOILET - RECORDING STUDIO - SAME DAY

               Wires run into a tiny toilet revealing JIM with headphones 
               to his ears barking into a dangling mike, one leg propped on 
               a toilet seat, in a groove. A new, strange, unparalleled 
               beauty in his voice, hoarser but wiser, haunted by experience 
               yet joyful as youth, Jim is ironically, at his best.

                                     JIM & DOORS
                         LA Woman (X2) 
                         LA Woman / Sunday Afternoon (X3) 
                         Drive thru your suburbs 
                         Into your blues (X2) 
                         Into your blue-blue blues

               EXT. LOS ANGELES FREEWAY - DAY

               MONTAGE: Moving, moving, moving -- all the POVS from fast-
               moving CARS travelling with the pace of L.A. Song of freedom, 
               of escape -- the STRIP, the cars, the freeway, the 
               BILLBOARDS... farewell L.A.

               INT. NEW YORK HOSPITAL ROOM - DAY

               Camera creeping towards ANNE O'RIORDAN as she waits, alone 
               on a white table for the doctor to arrive. Jim never showed 
               up after all. But on we go.

               JIM & DOORS 
               I see your hair is burning 
               Hills are filled with fire 
               If they say I never lov'd you 
               You know they are a liar (etc) 
               Never saw a woman 
               So alone (X2) 
               So alone lone lone 
               So alone

               EXT. RAY'S HOUSE - VENICE - DAY

               JIM drives up in his beaten GTO MUSTANG, top down, bags all 
               over the place, hops out. Carrying his bulk with grace, knocks 
               and rings. RIDERS ON THE STORM starting to play over.

               INT. RAY'S HOUSE - DAY

               DOROTHY opens the door. Jim a stack of presents under his 
               arm.

                                     JIM
                         Eek Dorothy! You cut your hair!

                                     DOROTHY
                         We're trying to have another baby.

                                     JIM
                              (moving past her)
                         What -- was your hair getting in the 
                         way?
                              (she smacks him lightly)
                         Where are the kids?

               EXT. RAY YARD - DAY

               He spots them, crossing to the YARD where a CHILDREN'S 
               BIRTHDAY is in progress -- TWO DOZEN KIDS, a CLOWN acting 
               out for them. A few parents and friends -- ROBBIE and LYNNE, 
               their kid, JOHN and his RECENT LADY, their kid...

               When the KIDS spot JIM they light up.

                                     JIM
                         Hey -- am I late or is this the cool 
                         remnant of a dream?

                                     KIDS
                              (rushing to him)
                         Eee! Jim! It's Uncle Jim... Come 
                         on... what did you bring me Jim...

                                     JIM
                              (picks up Robin)
                         How's my girl! And how's my boy!

               They stick a ludicrous printed birthday hat on his head. A 
               bearded Santa Claus now engulfed with kids, though puffy, 
               body gone, a literal physical wreck, yet a gentle pathos 
               about him and still a charisma that the children react to 
               without thinking. He gives out the presents all over.

                                     JIM
                              (ad libs)
                         For you... Pancho gets this one... 
                         Melanie -- yours... Hey Dorothy don't 
                         grab now... open that one, that's 
                         yours... keep your paws off that 
                         now...

               As RAY and ROBBIE and JOHN and the others circle him.

                                     JIM
                              (to Robin, a 5 year 
                              old)
                         ...and to you, princess, from your 
                         Royal servant, James Douglas Morrison
                              (bows)

               As ROBIN, the cutest of them all, a bow in her hair, takes 
               the package, opens it.

                                     RAY
                         You wanna hear the new mixes on "LA 
                         WOMAN?"...

                                     JIM
                         No, I gotta plane to catch.

                                     JOHN
                         Won't take long man, it's the best 
                         one since "Days".

                                     ROBBIE
                         We added rain to "Riders", come on.

               Jim cocks his head, listening to it playing from an inner 
               room, his eyes on ROBIN opening the gift -- a beautiful, 
               ANTIQUE DOLL of an 19th century poet -- rock star, stuffed, 
               velour jacket, white fluffy lace collar, it could be Byron 
               or it could be Jim Morrison -- in fact the hair is perfectly 
               weaved to resemble Jim in his young lion phase -- an ironic 
               gift, meant from the heart. It stops everybody -- they all 
               look. A haunted quality to the doll.

                                     KID
                         Ugh! What's that!

                                     ROBIN
                              (to Jim)
                         It's you.

                                     JIM
                         Forever young...

               She kisses him.

                                     ROBIN
                         Oh it's beautiful... Thank you Uncle 
                         Jim.

               INT. RAY'S WORK SPACE - DAY

               Off the patio windows of the birthday party, sounds and 
               sunshine pouring in. The Clown running around, laughter. The 
               music plays -- BRUCE at the mixing board.

               JIM & DOORS 
               Riders on the Storm (x2) 
               Into this house we're born 
               Into this world we're thrown 
               Like a dog without a bone 
               An actor out on loan 
               Riders on the storm

               Where we and Jim came in, I guess. Jim drinks from a cognac 
               bottle straight, foot tapping, enjoying it, knows it's good -- 
               but other things are calling. This is history.

                                     JIM
                         I gotta admit -- that ain't bad for 
                         four guys who weren't even talking 
                         that day.

               Slapping shoulders, shaking hands.

                                     JOHN
                         You really gonna live in Paris man?

                                     JIM
                         Yeah John, be anonymous, write a 
                         book: "Observations of an American 
                         While on Trial in Miami".

                                     ROBBIE
                         I still think we got a couple of 
                         great blues albums in us man.

                                     JIM
                         I'm pinned man. Everything I do they 
                         got a category for it, y'know. 
                         Freedom's gone.

                                     JOHN
                         Hey, I'm gonna miss you Jim. I'm 
                         gonna miss the feeling of playing 
                         music with you.

                                     JIM
                         You can always whip the horses' eyes. 
                         You, John, miss me?

                                     JOHN
                         More than you think asshole.
                              (turn away, repressing -- 
                              the emotions)

                                     ROBBIE
                              (walking him to the 
                              garden)
                         Well far as I'm concerned, Jim, I 
                         made music with Dionysus man. We had 
                         some moments on stage like no one 
                         will ever fucking know.

                                     JIM
                              (making light)
                         Yeah, yeah -- and you lay off those 
                         drugs Rob. We're gonna play again 
                         some day.

                                     ROBBIE
                         Jim -- "do not go gently into that 
                         good night. Rage rage against the 
                         dying of the light".
                              (he winks goodbye)

               The kids running up to grab JIM, pulls him back to the party.

                                     GIRLS
                         Come 'ere Uncle Jim, we're playing 
                         blind man's bluff...

                                                               TIME CUT TO:

               EXT. GARDEN - LATER DAY

               JIM, a bearded Santa Claus with the birthday hat on his head, 
               surrounded by the GIRLS and BOYS and DOROTHY shooting a home 
               movie. They're eating birthday cake but UNCLE JIM is drinking 
               straight from the cognac bottle -- a strange sight.

                                     JIM
                              (to Robin)
                         So what are you gonna be when you 
                         grow up?

                                     ROBIN
                         I wanna be your wife

               He laughs, looks at Dorothy who's shooting him with the Super 
               8.

                                     JIM
                         I don't know, can I afford you? Pam 
                         kinda wiped me out with her dress 
                         store y'know...

                                     ROBIN
                         I'll make my own dresses and you'll 
                         see, I'll be the best wife.

                                     DOROTHY
                              (nodding)
                         You'll never be alone Jim.

                                     JIM
                              (to Dorothy)
                         You know I've never been happier. 
                         Not as much of a rush as I used to 
                         be in y'know... this is the strangest 
                         life I've ever known.

               His eyes on a LITTLE BOY who's walking into the party, sitting 
               down with the others, ignored, isolated, a birthday cap on 
               his head. Clothes belong to the 1940's and the face seems 
               familiar. Jim is not sure, woozy from the cognac. As he fades. 
               We saw the Boy many years ago in the backseat of the car in 
               the Arizona desert.

               Jim's head falling gently into his folded arms on the table, 
               the cognac bottle at his elbow, merlin hat on, beard, the 
               kids laughing, pulling his ears and nose -- he doesn't wake 
               up.

                                                               TIME CUT TO:

               As Ray comes over now, rouses him gently.

                                     RAY
                         Gotta plane to catch man?

               Jim coming awake in that instant alert way of his, but 
               obviously hung over.

                                     JIM
                         O?... splittling headache from which 
                         the future is made.

               Puzzling remark, He gets up, shaky, exits, kids tearing at 
               him. Goodbyes.

               EXT. RAY'S HOUSE - VENICE - TWILIGHT

               The beach is behind them, the last of the frisbee players 
               and dogs, the skaters go by, as we continue to hear RIDERS 
               from within.

                                     RAY
                         Is Pam really there in Paris waiting?

                                     JIM
                              (ironic, head hurts)
                         Sure. The Count's there so where 
                         else would she be? Gotta try to start 
                         over, without all the hassles, y'know. 
                         I think we can.

                                     RAY
                         I never knew what you saw in that 
                         nightmare chick man.

                                     JIM
                         Well she is kinda flakey -- like me. 
                         I mean she's just so vulnerable about 
                         everything. It makes me sad man.
                              (pause)
                         But she's always kinda believed in 
                         something about me y'know -- her 
                         little picture of me as the unsung 
                         poet -- and it's a fantasy I kinda 
                         dig y'know, 'stead of the one I live.

                                     RAY
                         I don't know man, I don't wanna sound 
                         like your old man but you're only 
                         27, you're living like you gotta get 
                         it all in, you gotta slow down man, 
                         you did it, you broke thru to the 
                         other side.

                                     JIM
                         We didn't break thru Ray, we just 
                         pushed things a little. When you 
                         really break thru, there's nothing 
                         left. No music, no Doors, no God, 
                         nothing -- only a will to power.

                                     RAY
                         I don't believe that. You were an 
                         American prince, man -- with overbred 
                         genes --
                              (Jim scoffs, laughs)
                         No! What could've been Jim? You 
                         could've been President.
                              (Jim cracks up)
                         No man! What could've been Jim? We 
                         stood here on this beach on the edge 
                         of the Pacific that crazy summer day 
                         in '65 -- and we knew, you and I, we 
                         knew we were at the edge of the mind. 
                         we were there, man. One planet, one 
                         globe, one mind. Consciousness, we 
                         raised it, we were there.

               Jim, not the sentimental type, climbs in his car, amused.

                                     JIM
                         And now what?

                                     RAY
                         Now?
                              (smiles, lethally 
                              sweet)
                         You've made me into Ishmael. I am 
                         the last survivor of the Pequod. And 
                         I exist only to tell the story of 
                         Ahab who fought the black whale.

                                     JIM
                              (loves it, laughs)
                         It was white Ray. You gotta stop 
                         harpin' on that day. I was so ripped 
                         I can hardly remember it.

               Ignites engine. Ray leans in, lightening up.

                                     RAY
                         Hey, what was that poem you once 
                         wrote about two chicks on the pier?

                                     JIM
                         Come on man, I gotta fly.

                                     RAY
                         Come on. Just once.

                                     JIM
                              (VOICE OVER, pulling 
                              out the car)
                         In that year we had a great 
                         Visitation of energy 
                         Back in those days 
                         Everything was simpler and more 
                         confused 
                         One summer night, going to the pier 
                         I ran into two young girls 
                         The blonde was called Freedom 
                         The dark one Enterprise 
                         We talked 
                         And they told me this story.

               As he departs, waving.

                                     RAY
                              (OVER)
                         What was the story?

               His point of view -- Jim receding into the sun in his mustang -- 
               making a shakey, screeching curve at the bend of the beach. 
               And he's gone. An ominous ROAR of an AIRPLANE above RAY. -- 
               flying away.

               EXT. LOS ANGELES - TWILIGHT

               The PLANE flies off into the setting ball of red sun.

               INT. RECORDING SESSION (LAST SESSION) - L.A. - DEC.

               The bearded POET hunches in his chair, exhausted, clutching 
               the paper, finished. Pause. He downs a final shot, grunts to 
               the Indian Ghostman sitting there on a stool watching him in 
               the corner of the studio. The Ghostman laughs (but nothing 
               comes out of his mouth). His wrinkled eyes are happy, 
               feathered ponytail, he nods... pleased.

                                     MORRISON
                         Well, didja get all that?

                                     GHOSTMAN
                         You done good, Jim, go now -- rest

               The ENGINEER, exhausted, doesn't feel anything funny.

                                     ENGINEER
                         Yeah, I got it Jim.

               The poets face brightens. A small but ever-so-sweet smile of 
               triumph hikes up the corners of his mouth.

                                     JIM
                         Aw right. Let's get some tacos!

               He stands, sways, than moves out of view. The empty bottle 
               of whiskey, its sands run out, is left behind.

               As we FADE OUT, a hardy, mischievous Morrison laugh and a 
               ripple of sensuous MUSIC carry us into the lilting, lamenting 
               strains of AN AMERICAN PRAYER -- THE END without lyrics for 
               now as we cut to:

               INT. PARIS BEDROOM - NEAR DAWN (NIGHT) (1971)

               PAMELA is agitated in her sleep -- waking as she feels him 
               watching. Is that him? At the door? A SHADOW -- leaves. 
               Footsteps moving down the narrow Parisian corridor with the 
               creaky floor.

                                     PAM
                         Jim... that you?

               Looks at the time. Somewhere near dawn. The sounds of a bath 
               being drawn. Nightmare or sleep? She tries to fade back to 
               sleep but the MUSIC and the WHISPERING prod her, pull her 
               awake...

               DISSOLVE: SAME FACE -- AN HOUR LATER.

               Putting her robe on, the slippers, the light... moving. She 
               is much more ravaged looking than before.

               INT. BATHROOM - DAWN

               She finds him now... His face floating upwards, angelic eyes, 
               the beard is now gone, a little smile on his face. He must 
               be playing another joke. Although she really knows as she 
               says the words:

                                     PAM
                         Jim! It was you. I always know when 
                         it's you.
                              (moving closer)
                         Come on baby get out of the tub... 
                         mama'll dry you off...
                              (pause)
                         Jim Morrison, now you stop joking 
                         you hear me, cut it out!

               His face. At peace, as she sobs, the MUSIC cresting to Jim's 
               lyrics.

                                     PAM
                         ...was it all right Jim, did you 
                         enjoy it when it came my baby? Just 
                         like you said it'd be?

                                     JIM
                              (OVER)
                         They are waiting to take us into the 
                         severed garden do you know how pale 
                         and wanton thrillful comes death at 
                         a strange hour? Unannounced unplanned 
                         for like a scaring overfriendly guest 
                         you've brought to bed? Death makes 
                         angels of us all? And gives us wings 
                         where we had shoulders smooth as 
                         raven's claws...

                                                               DISSOLVE TO:

               EXT. PERE LACHAISE CEMETERY - PARIS - DAY

               His face etching into a perfect Alexandrine bust of physical 
               beauty. The camera moving to reveal, a wintry day, leaves 
               blowing, the wild cats everywhere in the empty cemetery, the 
               crumbling tombs, the flowers fresh and dead around Jim's 
               tomb, the graffiti, wine bottles, Wilde, Bizet, Piaf, Chopin, 
               Morrison...

                                     JIM
                              (OVER)
                         No more money, no more fancy dress 
                         this other kingdom seems by far the 
                         best until its other jaw reveals 
                         incest and loose obedience to a 
                         vegetable law. I will not go I prefer 
                         a feast of friends to the giant 
                         family...

               The MUSIC rolling up on:

               INT. CORRIDOR & STAGE - LIMBO

               Smoke. Some lights. The distant cheers of a CROWD. In slightly 
               SLOW MOTION, a FIGURE moves down a corridor into a blinding 
               light of stage and smoke. THREE OTHER SHADOWS are there 
               waiting -- as the GHOST moves to the microphone in altered 
               motion.

               The AUDIENCE is out there somewhere in the dark -- we sense 
               they too have become ghosts, as all of us will one day. The 
               MUSIC continuing up to roll from AMERICAN PRAYER -- THE END -- 
               snatches we annotate.

                                     GHOST ANNOUNCER
                         Ladies and Gentlemen, from Los Angeles 
                         California -- The Doors!
                              (ghostly applause)

                                     JIM & THE DOORS
                              (snatches)
                         ...have you seen the warm progress 
                         under the stars? 
                         Have you forgotten the keys to the 
                         kingdom? 
                         Have you been born yet and are you 
                         alive? 
                         Where is the feast we were promised? 
                         Let's reinvent the gods, the myths 
                         of the ages! 
                         We need great golden copulations

               Camera closing past the DOORS to JIM alone, circling the 
               mike with his dance -- the INDIAN GHOSTMAN jigging, shaman-
               like, off to the side -- now levitating above the stage, all 
               crazy, gawky dancing.

                                     JIM
                         Well, I'll tell you a story of 
                         whiskey, mystics and men 
                         And about the believers and how the 
                         whole thing began 
                         First there were women and children 
                         obeying the moon 
                         Then daylight brought wisdom and 
                         sickness too soon... the moon is a 
                         dry blood beast 
                         We have assembled inside this ancient 
                         and insane theatre to propagate our 
                         lust for life and flee the swarming 
                         wisdom of the streets we live we die 
                         and death not ends it
                              (screams in agony)
                         FATHER HAVE MERCY!!!

               Ending with a solitary sing-song croak.

                                     JIM
                         Bird of prey, bird of prey 
                         Flying high, flying high in the summer 
                         sky 
                         Bird of prey, bird of prey flying 
                         high, flying high gently pass by 
                         Bird of prey, bird of prey flying 
                         high, flying high 
                         Take me on your flight
                              (pause then)
                         I will come again down from the wild 
                         mountains

               THE SUBTITLE READS "JIM IS SAID TO HAVE DIED OF 'HEART 
               FAILURE'. PAMELA JOINED HIM THREE YEARS LATER"... HER ASHES 
               WERE BURIED NEXT TO HIM."

               BLACK SCREEN WITH CREDITS

               ...Let's lighten it up with some good old rock and roll. As 
               we hear Jim and the Doors running loose on ROADHOUSE BLUES"

                                     JIM & DOORS
                         ALRITE YEAH YEAH 
                         YOU GOTTA ROLL, ROLL, ROLL 
                         YOU GOTTA THRILL MY SOUL -- ALRITE 
                         ROLL, ROLL, ROLL, ROLL, 
                         A THRILL MY SOUL 
                         A-GOT-A-BEEPA, GONCHA CHUCHNA HOCA 
                         CONK, 
                         A DONTA EATCHA COONA NEECHA BOP-A-
                         LOOLA, LECHOW, BOMPA KECHOW YESOW 
                         CONK, YEAH 
                         RITE ASHEN LADY (X2) 
                         GIVE UP YOUR VOWS (X2) 
                         SAVE OUR CITY (X2) 
                         RIGHT NOW (X2) 
                         WELL I WOKE UP THIS MORNING I GOT 
                         MYSELF A BEER (X2) 
                         THE FUTURE'S UNCERTAIN THE END IS 
                         ALWAYS NEAR 
                         LET IT ROLL BABY ROLL (X3) 
                         ALL NITE LONG

                                         THE END