Basic Instinct
Screenplay by Joe Eszterhas
Produced by Alan Marshall
Directed by Paul Verhoeven
Cast List:
Michael Douglas Detective Nick
Curran
Sharon Stone Catherine
Tramell
George Dzundza Gus
Jeanne
Tripplehorn Dr.
Beth Garner
Denis Arndt Lieutenant Walker
Leilani Sarelle Roxy
Bruce A. Young Andrews
Chelcie Ross Captain Talcott
INT. A BEDROOM – NIGHT
It is dark; we don't see clearly.
A man and woman make love on a brass bed. There are mirrors on the
walls and ceiling. On a side table, atop a small mirror, lines of cocaine. A
tape deck PLAYS
the Stones: "Sympathy for the Devil."
Atop him... she straddles his chest... her breasts in his face. He
cups her breasts. She leans down, kisses him...
JOHNNY BOZ is in his late 40's, slim, good-looking. We
don't see the woman's face. She has long blonde hair. The CAMERA STAYS
BEHIND and to the side of them.
She leans close over his face, her tongue in his mouth... she kisses
him... she moves her hands up, holds both of his arms above his head.
She moves higher atop him... she reaches to the side of the bed... a
white silk scarf is in her hand... her hips above his face now, moving...
slightly, oh-so slightly... his face strains towards her.
The scarf in her hand... she ties his hands with it... gently... to
the brass bed... his eyes are closed... tighter... lowering hips into his
face... lower... over his chest... his navel. The SONG plays.
He is inside her... his head arches back... his throat white.
She arches her back... her hips grind... her breasts are high...
Her back arches back... back... her head tilts back... she extends
her arms... the right arm comes down suddenly... the steel flashes... his
throat is white...
He bucks, writhes, bucks, convulses...
It flashes up... it flashes down... and up... and down... and up...
and...
EXT. A BROWNSTONE IN PACIFIC HEIGHTS – MORNING
Winter in San Francisco: cold, foggy. Cop cars everywhere. The
lights play through the thick fog. Two Homicide detectives get out of the car,
walk into the house.
NICK CURRAN is 42. Trim, good-looking, a nice suit: a
face urban, edged, shadowed. GUS MORAN
is 64. Crew-cut, silver beard, a suit rumpled and shiny, a hat out of the 50's:
a face worn and ruined: the face of a backwoods philosopher.
INT. THE BROWNSTONE
There's money here – deco, clean, hip – That looks like a Picasso on
the wall. They check it out.
GUS
Who was this fuckin' guy?
NICK
Rock and roll, Gus. Johnny Boz.
GUS
I never heard of him.
NICK
(grins)
Before your time, pop.
(a beat)
Mid-sixties. Five or six hits. He's got a club down in
the Fillmore now.
GUS
Not now he don't.
Past the uniformed guys... nods... waves... past the forensic men... past the coroner's investigators... they get to the bedroom.
INT. THE BEDROOM
They walk in, stare – it's messy.
It's like a convention in here. LT. PHIL
WALKER, in his 50's, silver-haired, the
Homicide guys: JIM HARRIGAN, late
40's, puffy, affable; SAM
ANDREWS, 30's, black. A CORONER'S MAN is working the bed.
LT. WALKER
(to Nick and Gus)
You guys know Captain Talcott?
They nod.
GUS
What's the Chief's office doin' here.
CAPT. TALCOTT
Observing.
LT. WALKER
(to the Coroner's Guy)
What do you think, Doc?
THE CORONER'S GUY
The skin blanches when I press it – this kind of color
is about right for six or eight hours.
LT. WALKER
Nobody say anything. The maid came in an hour ago and found
him. She's not a live-in.
GUS
Maybe the maid did it.
LT. WALKER
She's 54 years old and weighs 240 pounds.
THE CORONER'S GUY
(deadpan)
There are no bruises on his body.
GUS
(grins)
It ain't the maid.
LT. WALKER
He left the club with his girlfriend about midnight.
That's the last time anybody saw him.
NICK
(looks at body)
What was it?
THE CORONER'S GUY
Ice pick. Left on the coffee table in the living room.
Thin steel handle. Forensics took it downtown.
HARRIGAN
There's come all over the sheets – he got off before
he got offed.
GUS
(deadpan)
That rules the maid out for sure.
CAPT. TALCOTT
This is sensitive. Mr. Boz was a major contributor to
the mayor's campaign. He was Chairman of the Board of the Palace of Fine Arts –
(to Nick)
I thought you said he was a rock and roll star.
LT. WALKER
He was a retired rock and roll star.
CAPT. TALCOTT
A civic-minded, very respectable rock and roll star.
GUS
What's that over there?
We see the white powder laid out in lines on the small mirror on the side table.
NICK
(deadpan)
It looks like some civic-minded, very respectable
cocaine to me, Gus.
CAPT. TALCOTT
(evenly, to Nick)
Listen to me, Curran. I'm going to get a lot of heat
on this. I don't want any... mistakes.
NICK
Who's the girlfriend?
Lt. Walker looks at the notepad in his hand.
LT. WALKER
Catherine Tramell, 162 Divisadero.
Nick writes it down. He and Gus turn, leave. Captain Talcott watches them. He looks disturbed.
INT. THE LIVING ROOM
NICK
Talcott doesn't usually show up at the office 'till
after his 18 holes. What are they nervous about?
GUS
They're executives. They're nervous about everything.
LT. WALKER (O.S.)
Nick!
He stops, turns, sees Walker behind them. Walker comes up to them.
LT. WALKER
(to Nick)
Keep your three o'clock.
NICK
Do you want me to work the case, Phil, or do you want
me to –
LT. WALKER
I said keep it.
EXT. A VICTORIAN ON DIVISADERO – DAY
It is more a mansion than a house. They ring the bell. An Hispanic MAID answers. They flash their
badges.
NICK
I'm Detective Curran, this is Detective Moran. We're
with the San Francisco Police Department. We'd like to speak to Ms. Catherine
Tramell.
THE MAID
(after a beat, an accent)
Just moment. Come in.
She leads them into a lavish, beautifully done living room that offers a sweeping view of the Bay.
THE MAID
(continuing)
Sit, please. Just moment.
They look around, impressed. There is a Picasso on the wall here, too.
GUS
Ain't that cute? They got his and her Pig-assos, son.
NICK
(smiles)
I didn't know you knew who Picasso was, Gus.
GUS
(grins)
I'm a smart son-of-a-bitch. I just hide it.
Nick smiles – and at that moment a beautiful BLONDE walks into the room.
She looks like she has been asleep. She is in her early 20's. She wears a very
sheer robe.
NICK
We're sorry to disturb you, we'd like to ask you some
–
THE WOMAN
Are you vice?
GUS
(after a beat)
Homicide.
THE WOMAN
What do you want?
THE WOMAN
(continuing)
Is he dead?
NICK
(after a beat)
Why do you think he's dead?
THE WOMAN
You wouldn't be here otherwise, would you?
GUS
Were you with him last night?
THE WOMAN
You're looking for Catherine, not me.
NICK
Who are you?
THE WOMAN
I'm Roxy.
(a beat)
I'm her – friend.
She looks at them a beat.
ROXY
She's out at the beach house at Stinson. Seadrift.
1402.
NICK
Thanks.
They start to head out.
ROXY
You're wasting your time. Catherine didn't kill him.
A beat, they look at her, and go...
EXT. SEADRIFT – STINSON BEACH – DAY
Foggy. Cold. It is an expensive spit of land on the ocean. Multi-million dollar "beach houses" with gardens and swimming pools. There are two Ferraris in the driveway – one black, one white.
They get out of the car in front of the house. They see a woman in
back of the house, sitting on a deck chair, staring at the sea, a blanket
around her.
Ms. Tramell?
She takes a long look a Nick, then looks away.
CATHERINE TRAMELL is 30 years old. She has long blonde hair
and a refined, classically beautiful face. She is not knockout gorgeous like
Roxy; there is a smoky kind of sensuousness about her.
NICK
(continuing)
I'm De –
CATHERINE
(evenly)
I know who you are.
She doesn't look at them. She looks at the water.
CATHERINE
(continuing)
How did he die?
GUS
He was murdered.
CATHERINE
Really. Maybe that's why you're from Homicide. How?
Nick glances at Gus.
NICK
With an ice pick.
She closes her eyes a beat and then, still staring out, we see a thin smile. They see it, too, and glance at each other.
NICK
(continuing)
How long were you dating him?
CATHERINE
I wasn't dating him. I was fucking him.
They glance at each other again.
GUS
What are you – a pro?
Catherine looks at him – that thin smile again.
CATHERINE
No. I'm an amateur.
She looks away.
NICK
How long were you having sex with him?
CATHERINE
About a year and a half.
NICK
Were you with him last night?
CATHERINE
Yes.
NICK
Did you leave the club with him?
CATHERINE
Yes.
NICK
Did you go home with him?
CATHERINE
No. We had a drink at the club. We left together. I
came here. He went home.
NICK
Was there anyone with you last night?
CATHERINE
(looks at Nick)
No. I wasn't in the mood to have sex with anyone last
night.
They look at her a beat.
NICK
Let me ask you something, Ms. Tramell? Are you sorry
he's dead?
Catherine looks at him.
CATHERINE
Yes. I liked fucking him.
They stare at her. She looks out at the water.
CATHERINE
(continuing)
I don't really feel like talking anymore.
GUS
Listen, lady, we can do this downtown if you –
CATHERINE
Read me my rights and arrest me and I'll go downtown.
She doesn't even look at them.
CATHERINE
(continuing; quietly)
Otherwise, get the fuck out of here. Please.
A long beat as they look at her.
INT. A CORRIDOR – POLICE HEADQUARTERS
The door says: Dr. Elizabeth Gardner, Counseling. Nick opens the door, peeks in. The receptionist is not there. A clock says 3:15.
INT. THE COUNSELING OFFICE
He walks in – sees the inner door open, walks in.
NICK
I'm sorry, Beth. I – I got hung up in Stinson.
DR. ELIZABETH GARDNER, the police psychologist, is a very good-looking,
dark-haired woman. She is 30.
BETH
(smiles)
How are you, Nick?
NICK
I'm fine. Come on, Beth! You know I'm fine! How the
hell long do I have to keep doing this?
BETH
As long as Internal Affairs wants you to, I suppose.
Sit down, Nick.
NICK
It's bullshit. You know it is.
BETH
(smiles)
I know it is – but sit down anyway so we can get it
over with, okay?
He sits down.
BETH
(continuing)
So – how are things?
NICK
(after a beat)
Things are fine. I told you. They're fine.
She watches him closely.
BETH
(after a beat)
How is your – personal life?
NICK
My sex life is fine.
(a beat)
My sex life is pretty shitty actually since I stopped
seeing you – maybe I should think about my Electrolux again.
That embarrassed her; she looks away from him.
NICK
(continuing; after a beat)
Sorry.
She shrugs. A beat.
BETH
How about the booze?
NICK
It's been three months.
BETH
(after a long beat)
How about the coke?
NICK