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更新时间：2023/3/22 19:39:17
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英文片名: Rush Hour
中文片名: 尖锋时刻
上映: 1998
FADE IN:
EXT. LOS ANGELES - DAY
The whole dysfunctional megalopolis, beige and blurry in the
summer smog. If this is the American Dream, do me a favor and
wake me up.
EXT. LAX - DAY
The traffic loop outside the terminals is gridlocked -- mostly
with stretch limousines.
INT. LAX - (INCLUDE NEWS REPORT MONTAGE) - DAY
Inside, the airport is done up with festive posters, streamers
and banners: Welcome - Pacific Partners Summit
A planeload of cheerful CHINESE DELEGATES come into the
crowded terminal. Some sport red T-shirts with a picture of
Mao wearing Mickey Mouse ears.
They get onto the people mover, passing by a TV REPORTER:
REPORTER
(to TV CAMERA)
Eager to mend its tarnished image,
Los Angeles has really put out the
welcome mat for tomorrow's summit.
The city promises quite a party as
leaders from Japan, China, South
Korea, Australia, the U.S. and
others begin talks for the largest
free-trade treaty in history.
The SCENE changes to TAPE of DELEGATES from other countries
arriving.
Then, we see massive SECURITY PREPARATIONS all around the city.
REPORTER (VO)
(continuing)
The one sour note is North Korea,
the only Pacific Rim country not
participating. There are rumors of
secret meetings with North Korean
representatives, but U.S. officials
insist the North must first hold
democratic elections, and halt its
nuclear weapons program -- as they
claimed to have done back in 1995.
We CUT TO a heated debate in the UN SECURITY COUNCIL.
Then ARTILLERY FIRE over the Korean DMZ.
The SCENE returns to LAX.
REPORTER (VO)
(continuing)
Tensions remain high since last
year's skirmishes between North Korea
and the U.S. So any chance of the
communist North joining the Pacific
Partners seems highly unlikely.
DISSOLVE TO:
EXT. FREMONT PLACE - DAY
An exclusive, walled-off section of Hancock Park. There's only
one route in and out, past a manned guardhouse on Wilshire.
EXT. NORTH KOREAN CONSULATE - DAY
A Colonial-style mansion, surrounded by an imposing, wrought-
iron fence. There is a bronze plaque, in English and Korean,
next to the entranceway:
Consulate
of the
Democratic People's Republic of Korea
The driveway gate opens and a long, black Mercedes with tinted
windows and diplomatic license plates glides out.
INT. NORTH KOREAN CONSULATE - SURVEILLANCE ROOM - DAY
An alert North Korean CORPORAL watches the perimeter MONITORS.
He pushes a switch to close the gate behind the Mercedes.
EXT. UTILITY POLE - OLYMPIC BLVD - DAY
From atop a pole outside the south wall, a man with binoculars
overlooks the private streets of Fremont Place.
HIS POV - THROUGH BINOCULARS
as the Mercedes cruises through the quiet neighborhood.
BACK TO SCENE
The man, PAUL JAVAL, is thirtyish, nervous; with short, sandy
hair. He takes the binoculars away from his face and we see
his eyes -- they're a strange, unnaturally light gray.
Javal takes an ORANGE PILL from an unlabeled prescription
bottle and pops it into his mouth. He climbs down the pole to
a van with a phone company logo on it.
EXT. WILSHIRE BLVD - DAY
The Mercedes comes out of the Fremont Place gate, and turns
into the heavy morning traffic.
INT. MERCEDES - (MOVING SHOT) - DAY
It is extremely quiet, due to inch-thick glass on the windows
and 4,000 pounds of armor plating on the car's chassis.
The DRIVER is a North Korean Army Major. On the seat beside
him is an AMD-74, a 5.45x39mm-caliber machine gun.
A HAND from the back seat darts between the front seats and
turns on the RADIO to a ROCK station. The Driver turns it off.
NEW ANGLE
The hand belongs to 10-year-old SAM KE HAN. Sam sits back and
sighs to his sister, JOY (15). Between them sits a middle-aged
Scandinavian GOVERNESS.
SAM
I can't stand it -- half an hour to
get to the stupid school every
morning... with no music...
(Korean; subtitled)
[Just our damn Nanny...]
EXT. CRENSHAW BLVD - DAY
Javal's van, also with tinted windows, turns onto Crenshaw. It
follows the Mercedes, several cars behind it.
INT. JAVAL'S VAN - (MOVING SHOT) - DAY
Javal, wired, drums on the steering wheel while driving. He
glances at some expertly constructed, radio-control REMOTE
UNITS sitting on the seat next to him.
EXT. SANTA MONICA FREEWAY - DAY
Traffic is moving at about 35 MPH. The Mercedes merges onto
the freeway, heading west. Javal's van follows.
The thumping of a RAP SONG rattles the other drivers' fillings
as a LOWRIDER with its stereo turned up to '11' cruises by.
INT. MERCEDES - (MOVING SHOT) - DAY
Even 500 watts of bass cannot penetrate the armored silence.
The Driver scans the road, wary but sensing no danger. He puts
on his blinker to take the 405 South exit.
EXT. SANTA MONICA FREEWAY - DAY
The van follows, now directly behind the Mercedes, in a
procession of vehicles going up the long, curved overpass
arcing 100 feet above the 10, toward the 405.
INT. JAVAL'S VAN - (MOVING SHOT) - DAY
As they approach the crest of the overpass, Javal flips a
switch on his radio-control unit...
CLOSE - ROAD SURFACE OF OVERPASS
Six small SEMICIRCLES, exact replicas of the stay-alert bumps
on the white lines of the overpass, EXPLODE. They spew hundreds
of sharp, triangular nails across the roadway. Immediately,
scores of tires on passing cars BLOW OUT...
WIDER
Causing, 50 yards ahead of the Mercedes and van, the most
hellacious, gut-wrenching, piss-your-pants, chain-reaction
PILE-UP you can imagine.
Dozens of drivers LOSE CONTROL of their vehicles... sideswipe
their neighbors... grind against the guard rails. Some
fishtail into 180's, smashing headlong into the traffic still
coming onto the overpass.
Brakes squeal, people scream, metal crumples, airbags deploy,
glass shatters.
And then it gets really nasty...
A Honda gets jammed under a truck hauling cinder blocks. The
truck JACKKNIFES, tipping over like a drunken giant.
It SMASHES through the concrete wall and guard rail...
Along with several cars and their SCREAMING OCCUPANTS, swept
over the edge by the truck like discarded soda cans.
They plummet through space, CRASHING onto the freeway below.
INT. MERCEDES - (MOVING SHOT) - DAY
Sam, Joy, and the Governess brace themselves as the Driver
slams on the brakes. He barely avoids hitting anything.
DRIVER
(Korean)
[Stay in the car.]
EXT. FREEWAY OVERPASS - DAY
A nightmare scene of smoke, twisted wrecks, dazed victims. The
Mercedes and van sit motionless in the backed-up traffic.
INT./EXT. JAVAL'S VAN & ROADWAY - DAY
Javal slides open a TRAP DOOR on the floor of the van. He
slips a wheeled, mechanic's repair platform through it.
ANGLE WITH JAVAL
as, unnoticed amid the chaos, he lies on the platform and
rolls under the Mercedes.
The undercarriage of the Mercedes is armored with steel. Javal
stops at a patch of perforations -- an air exchange vent. He
attaches a slim DEVICE over the vent, flips a switch on it,
then rolls back toward the van.
INT. MERCEDES - DAY
Oblivious to Javal's actions below them, everyone watches as
police and news helicopters circle above. Then, some CHP
motorcycles straddle the lanes and zoom by.
INT. JAVAL'S VAN - DAY
Sweating, Javal sits back in the driver's seat and checks
another radio unit. Working.
EXT. FREEWAY OVERPASS - DAY
The CHP has cleared a path through the devastation, and
traffic trickles through. As the Mercedes and the van pass by,
Javal looks proudly at the misery he's wrought. He follows the
Mercedes onto the 405 south.
INT. JAVAL'S VAN - (MOVING SHOT) - DAY
Javal drives behind the Mercedes, with one hand on the radio
unit. The Mercedes signals to take the Venice exit.
Javal fingers the radio unit, itching to use it...
But he PASSES by the Mercedes as it gets off the freeway.
INSERT ANGLE - UNDER THE MERCEDES
Javal's device is armed, and waiting...
FADE TO:
EXT. SIERRA BONITA AVENUE - CARSON'S HOUSE - NIGHT
A pretty street in the Miracle Mile, lined with neat, single-
family homes. Timed SPRINKLER systems water some of the yards.
Every house on the block except the one we're in front of has
a 'For Sale' sign on the lawn. From the weathered looks of the
signs, they've been there for quite a while.
INT. CARSON'S HOUSE - BEDROOM - NIGHT
It's a hot night. The ceiling fan above the bed spins slowly.
PETE CARSON tosses restlessly in bed, the sheets half-covering
him. Next to him his wife, MIRANDA KNOLL, snores contentedly.
Carson is in his late thirties, outdoorsy, with a tight,
muscular build. Emotionally he's tightly-wound as well.
Miranda is 35, raven-haired, sensible, pretty. She believes
above all else that one should never raise one's voice.
Carson groans... he's DREAMING...
CUT TO:
EXT. BEVERLY DRIVE - (CARSON'S DREAM) - DAY
Quick, SILENT IMAGES: A street cordoned off with police tape.
Cops, SWAT teams, FBI surround BEVERLY THRIFT, a bank.
Carson, younger, hair shorter, sits in an FBI COMMAND TRUCK
across from the bank. Covering the mouthpiece of the phone in
his hand, he's arguing with the OTHER AGENTS in the truck.
Suddenly, a huge, fiery EXPLOSION blows out the front of the
bank building. Horrified, Carson runs toward it...
CUT TO:
INT. CARSON'S HOUSE - BEDROOM AND HALLWAY - NIGHT
Carson is snapped awake by a CAR ALARM going off outside.
CARSON
Son of a bitch!
He bolts out of bed, wearing nothing but a pair of striped
bikini briefs. Miranda rolls over, sleepy, unconcerned...
MIRANDA
Pete... please... we have to be up
early tomorrow. Call the police.
CARSON
Yeah, right.
He races down the hall -- right past the house alarm keypad,
its LCD reading 'ARMED.'
He grabs an aluminum baseball bat from the umbrella stand.
Forgetting to disarm the house alarm, he yanks the front door
open. The house alarm begins SHRIEKING.
CARSON
(continuing)
Shit!
MIRANDA
pulls the pillows over her head and sighs.
MIRANDA
Not again...
EXT. CARSON'S HOUSE - NIGHT
Carson comes around to the driveway, which is illuminated by
the streetlight --
Where two 20-ish ASSHOLES are sitting in his 1965 Mustang
convertible, their presence courtesy of a huge cut they've
made in the otherwise-perfect ragtop.
Car-theft tools in a leather case between them, they're prying
the ignition switch out of the dashboard.
Asshole #1 spots Carson. He gets out of the car, wielding a
crowbar. His partner keeps working.
NEW ANGLE
Asshole #1 lunges viciously, swiping at Carson with the
crowbar, taking a piece out of his side. Carson starts
BLEEDING profusely, but he's too pissed to notice.
Carson uses his bat to take the offensive. They go at each
other like combatants in a swordfight, the CLANKING of metal
echoing through the neighborhood along with the screaming
house and car ALARMS, and frantic neighborhood DOGS.
Surprised at Carson's fury and strength, Asshole #1 backs onto
the lawn, oblivious to the running SPRINKLERS.
As he backs away, his shoe catches on one of the sprinkler
heads. It breaks off, and a huge GEYSER of water sprays out.
Carson holds his bat in both hands and jams the front of it
into Asshole #1's breadbasket. He doubles over.
Carson grabs Asshole #1's arm, and pulls it quickly against
his raised knee. There is a SNAP and a loud howl as the arm
breaks, and Carson tosses him aside.
Seeing this, Asshole #2 gives up on the car. He takes off
toward the street. Carson runs to head him off, but he's a lot
faster in his Air Jordans than Carson is in his bare feet.
WIDER
Carson grabs the metal lid from a garbage can at the curb and
FLINGS it like a huge Frisbee. It sails across the street --
And NAILS Asshole #2's head. He kisses the pavement, stunned.
Carson runs up and grabs him, but he pulls out a long, sharp
screwdriver and jabs at Carson with it.
Then, blue flashing lights appear from around the corner: A
WESTEC Chevy Blazer. Two uniformed GUARDS get out, and fumble
with their sidearms.
WESTEC GUARD
Everybody... chill! Bikini boy! On
the ground!
Asshole #2 is still trying to gouge Carson with the
screwdriver. Carson glares at the dopey Guards.
CARSON
Asshole was trying to boost my car!
ANGLE ACROSS STREET
Carson's fiftyish, black, next-door NEIGHBOR, wearing pajamas
and a robe, comes out of his house. Carson sees him.
CARSON
Mike -- call 911!
NEIGHBOR
Been trying...
(has a cordless phone)
It's busy.
(to Guards; re Carson)
He's the good guy, you schumcks.
The Guards seem to get it. Without warning, one takes out a
TASER and ZAPS Asshole #2. Carson lets go just in time.
CLOSER
Holding his bleeding side, Carson walks back to his house. He
notices the 'Neighborhood Watch' sign has graffiti spray-
painted on it. He touches it -- the paint is still wet. His
Neighbor shrugs -- whatta ya gonna do?
The PAPER GUY drives by... and tosses Carson's newspaper right
under the gushing SPRINKLER.
CARSON
I hate this fuckin' town.
EXT. NORTH KOREAN CONSULATE - ESTABLISHING - DAY
INT. NORTH KOREAN CONSULATE - UPSTAIRS BATHROOM - DAY
Joy is standing on the toilet, blowing cigarette smoke into
the exhaust fan. Someone KNOCKS on the door. She flicks the
cigarette into the toilet, puts a ZIPPO LIGHTER in her pocket.
INT. NORTH KOREAN CONSULATE - HALLWAY - DAY
Joy opens the bathroom door. Sam is standing there, grinning.
JOY
There are six bathrooms in this
house, Sam.
SAM
(fanning the air)
But only one with a smoking section.
She quickly closes the door behind her. Sam laughs.
INT. NORTH KOREAN CONSULATE - DINING ROOM - DAY
Sam and Joy sit at the table. AMBASSADOR HAN and MRS. HAN are
having breakfast: radish soup, kimchi and grilled fish.
Ambassador Han reads through the morning's faxed communiqu萻.
He's 43, rarely smiles, and hates living in the U.S. He's
dressed in an impeccably-tailored, Valentino two-piece suit.
Mrs. Han is slender, soft-spoken, but as iron-willed as her
husband. She, however, is quick to smile. She's wearing a
summery dress with a white sweater over her shoulders.
Ambassador Han pulls the front of Sam's shirt to reveal the
'Nirvana' logo on his T-shirt.
AMBASSADOR HAN
(Korean)
[Go change.]
Ambassador Han's X-ray stare turns to Joy.
AMBASSADOR HAN
(continuing)
[You smell like a fireplace.]
A BUTLER appears with a phone. He WHISPERS to Mrs. Han.
MRS. HAN
It's the Governess...
(into phone)
Hello, Hilda...
CUTAWAY - CLOSE ON GOVERNESS
as she speaks into a cellular phone. She's extremely nervous.
We cannot see her surroundings.
GOVERNESS
(thru phone)
Mrs. Han... I am very sick today...
INT. NORTH KOREAN CONSULATE - DINING ROOM - DAY
MRS. HAN
(into phone)
We will see you next week...
(hangs up; smiles to kids)
It appears I'll be taking you to
school.
INT. JAVAL'S VAN - DAY
In the back of his van, Javal pats the Governess' hand.
JAVAL
Very good. You may go now...
He speaks with a slight accent, French, perhaps. He pops an
orange pill, then unlatches the rear doors of the van. With a
quick glance back at him, she goes to open the doors.
Javal grabs a plastic tarp and throws it over the Governess'
upper body. He puts his arm across her neck, flicks open a
gravity knife and PLUNGES it through the tarp, into her chest.
He drops her on the floor of the van and fastidiously wipes a
small smudge of blood from his hand with a handkerchief.
INT. CARSON'S HOUSE - BATHROOM AND BEDROOM - DAY
Carson steps out of the shower. He looks exhausted. Toweling
off, he goes into the bedroom, where Miranda is riding an
exercise bike, listening to music on headphones and reading
the sprinkler-soaked newspaper, all while watching the TV.
ANGLE ON TV
A perky blonde traffic reporter, BOBBI MARCHFELDER, talks to
us from a local NEWS COPTER.
BOBBI
(on TV)
...Good morning, Summit Day! It's
gonna be the Super Bowl, the 4th of
July, the Olympics and Woodstock all
rolled into one! All over town
there'll be parades, concerts,
rallies, festivals... So get out
there everyone, but plan your drive-
time accordingly! This is Bobbi
Marchfelder, your Eye in the Sky...
We CUT TO the White House lawn, where the PRESIDENT is about
to board a helicopter.
MORNING ANCHOR (VO)
(on TV)
The President is on his way...
PRESIDENT
(on TV)
...It's an honor hosting my fellow
leaders in Los Angeles, the capitol
city of the Pacific Rim...
We CUT BACK to the studio and the MORNING ANCHOR.
MORNING ANCHOR
(on TV)
We'll see the menu for Mayor
Simpson's Brentwood barbecue, right
after this...
We CUT TO a MUSICAL MONTAGE of preparations for the events
around town.
BACK TO SCENE
As the MUSIC swells, Carson turns the TV off.
MIRANDA
I was watching that.
CARSON
If I hear one more Beach Boys song,
I'll shoot myself.
Miranda points at the headphones -- she can't hear him.
CARSON
(continuing; while smiling)
I said, if we were having sex once in
a while, you wouldn't need to ride
that fucking bike every morning.
MIRANDA
(hasn't heard a thing)
Be right with you...
As Carson dresses, we get a LOOK at their bedroom -- Miranda's
nightstand has two neat stacks of periodicals on it, with Los
Angeles magazine and Psychology Today on the top of them.
Carson's nightstand is overflowing with books and magazines
about other cities and states: Wonderland Washington;
Magnificent Oregon; Welcome to North Carolina.'
INT./EXT. CARSON'S HOUSE - PATIO & KITCHEN - DAY
Miranda, dressed in a conservative skirt, jacket, black shoes,
is out on the patio. Her breakfast -- a bowl of fruit and
wheat germ -- sits on the patio table while she waters some
sickly-looking ROSE BUSHES in a planter.
Carson, dressed in shirt and tie, looking beat, fries a steak
and three eggs in butter. He comes outside with his breakfast
and a magazine article: 'American Expatriates in New Zealand.'
MIRANDA
(looks him over)
Have you gotten any sleep lately?
CARSON
(ignores the question)
Shop's gonna tow the car in --
goddamn ignition's trashed.
MIRANDA
Take mine. I'll ride in with Diane.
Carson watches as she carefully picks the dead leaves off the
rose bushes.
CARSON
You ask me, those suckers are a lost
cause.
She continues, then glances at the article Carson is reading.
MIRANDA
It's not for you.
CARSON
You mean it's not for you.
MIRANDA
I don't chase car thieves in my
underwear. C'mon, you'd die of
boredom if we ever sold this house
and moved.
CARSON
I'd die of shock, from finding
anyone dumb enough to buy the place.
Even for what it's worth now.
MIRANDA
Lots of people bought at the top of
the market...
CARSON
That sure cheers me right up.
MIRANDA
I don't know why we even talk about
it. The city's not the problem. So
we move. It wouldn't matter. What's
that saying: 'Wherever you go, there
you are.'
Carson just looks at her. Reaching for the salt, he winces
from the cut in his side.
MIRANDA
(continuing)
I hope you're current on your
tetanus booster. Was it worth it?
CARSON
One cut... two assholes in the
hospital... Yep.
Carson glances at his watch and gets up.
CARSON
(continuing)
Well, another day of baby-sitting my
favorite bunch of people...
He grabs a Bianchi shoulder holster with a Sig-Sauer P-229,
9mm pistol, straps it on, then pulls on a blue windbreaker.
Emblazoned on the back are large yellow letters: FBI.
MIRANDA
Ask for a transfer.
CARSON
They're not gonna transfer me. You
know damn well why I was bumped down
to guard duty...
(as he's leaving)
My outstanding people skills.
Miranda tries to return to tending her roses. But instead, she
sadly watches him go.
EXT. CARSON'S HOUSE - DAY
A look of sorrow crosses Carson's face as he watches some
YOUNG KIDS laugh and shove, getting onto a school bus.
He then glances at his wounded Mustang, parked in the street.
He spots something on the windshield: A pink parking ticket.
The parking sign above the graffiti-stained Neighborhood Watch
sign reads: Street Cleaning - Friday 8-10 AM.
CARSON
I hate this fuckin' town.
Carson CHIRPS open Miranda's car: a red Volvo 960.
As he pulls away, we SEE a bumper sticker on the car: a circle
and slash through cartoon weapons on one side, cartoon teddy
bears on the other, and 'Arms Are For Hugging' in between.
EXT. NORTH KOREAN CONSULATE - DAY
The Driver backs the Mercedes out of the garage behind the
Consulate. We notice there is ANOTHER MERCEDES parked inside.
Mrs. Han, Sam and Joy come outside. They hear some heartfelt
SWEARING:
ANGRY VOICE (OS)
Goddamn Limey overpriced piece a
shit...
THEIR POV
In the driveway across the street, a man in a business suit
has his head under the hood of a brand-new Jaguar convertible.
The JAG OWNER's 15-year-old, blonde daughter, LISA, sits in
the car with her schoolbooks in her lap.
JOY
turns to Mrs. Han:
JOY
Can we give Lisa a ride?
INT./EXT. MERCEDES - DAY
It pulls into the driveway across the street. The Jag Owner is
still SWEARING mightily. Lisa climbs into the Mercedes.
LISA
Hey, Joy... Sam...
Joy rolls the window up and the SOUND of cursing disappears.
LISA
(continuing)
Excellent -- I can't hear him!
SAM
(raps on window)
The glass is an inch thick.
(points to doors, roof)
Armor-plated. Bulletproof. Bomb-
proof.
LISA
Perfect car for L.A.
(looks back at her Dad)
Starts, too.
EXT. CRENSHAW BLVD - DAY
As the Mercedes travels its usual route down Crenshaw, Javal's
van begins following it.
INSERT ANGLE - UNDER THE MERCEDES
where Javal's DEVICE is attached, still waiting...
EXT. NORTH KOREAN CONSULATE - DAY
A dark-green government Dodge pulls up and parks behind one
just like it on a paved area near the Consulate gate.
DAVE JUAREZ, (chubby, 40, Mexican-American, a desk jockey) gets
out of the Dodge and hangs an FBI shield over his top pocket.
He glances over at North Korean Security Chief COLONEL LEE,
(45), who has paused inside the gate to regard Dave, and the
outside world, with profound contempt.
Dave, attach?case in one hand and notebook computer in the
other, walks to a 10-by-15 detached guardhouse on the far
corner of the property, just outside the high fence.
INT. FBI GUARDHOUSE - NORTH KOREAN CONSULATE - DAY
Inside are two desks and four chairs, a console of
communication equipment, a microwave and a Mr. Coffee.
Dave enters. Two FBI agents, finishing their shift, gather
their belongings: ROBBINS (late 20's; male; thinning hair) and
SABATINI, (early 30's; cute; dark, bobbed hair; female).
They wear blue FBI blazers and have standard-FBI-issue 10mm
Heckler & Koch MP-5 machine pistols in oversized shoulder
rigs. Dave is in civilian clothes, and is not armed.
ROBBINS
Yo, Dave the Computer Man! Actually
escaped the office!
DAVE
I'm doin' field upgrades. Gives 'em
a chance to hose out my cage.
He glances through the window at Colonel Lee.
DAVE
(continuing)
Who's the fuckin' gargoyle?
ROBBINS
Their Chief of Security, Colonel Lee.
Sabatini makes the jerk-off sign with her hand.
SABATINI
'Chuckles,' as we're inclined to
call him.
(yawns; flops in a chair)
&n
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