Part 5 Chapter 29 Portland Noir Instructions to Producer

Portland Noir: Instructions to the Producer1

We are producing a Noir film with the look of The Maltese Falcon inside2

Dashiell Hammett, Detective, Writer, DVD and the outside look of the3

Naked City, DVD. Your job is to make the one mile between Cinema 21 and Powell's Books look like Paranoid Park in Couch Park, Portland, OR. It's not crouch park; it’s a minor skateboard practice park. Just practice enough for Our Hiro and Yours Truly to meet and to fight off a gang of toughs. Near by is Our Hiro's office-apartment: it’s a 20 x 30 storage unit with green screen stage lighting and two chairs, a bed, etc. Use a homemade projector to make the green lighting. In black-and-white, there are no shades of gray, but in characters, we see it.4

Title: PORTLAND NOIR5

Text: Part One 6

He is like unto a man beholding his natural face in a glass. James 1:23. Text: Part Two 7

But every man is tempted when he is drawn away of his own lust, and enticed. Then when lust hath conceived, it bringeth forth sin: and sin, when it is finished, bringeth forth death. James 1:14-15 8

Text: Part Three9

For he beholdeth himself, and goeth his way, and straightway forgeth what manner of man he was. James 1:2410

Visit www.virtualamnesia.com for further details and pricing.11

VOICE OVER12

Noir13

Part One14

Sam Spade was a quiet man, though a man with a great sense of justice. As he sat there gazing out the window onto the Italian Veranda, lighting a cigarette he became lost in thought and sat alone in the dark room as the smoke created a dim whiteness; we call this Noir. He became lost in these thoughts, in these memories. Time seemed to elude him now and like the old flicker shows he used to see on cold autumn Brooklyn nights these memories played out before him like a cheap drawn out low budget B movie, but he wouldn't have it any other way. He remembered the day that some big shot Hollywood director/producer/ nobody came into his office beginning what would be his hardest case yet. See Sam Spade wasn't your average run of the mill detective he invested interest, ideals, and determination into his cases; if someone hired him to see if their wife was cheating he would find out, he would also find out how long, when, where, and how, and every Tom, Dick, and Harry the lady had been with. That's how he worked, he never would invest too much emotion into a case preferring to be as cold and complacent as possible; these people weren't his friends they were nothing more than a business transaction. Things ran smoothly like this until that October afternoon. 115

Part Two16

There was a slight tap and knocking of the door, while Sam Spade motioned the man to precede and come in, "Hello, Mr. Spade," he said while taking a seat in front of the desk. Now he wasn't much on looks, the man rather, was just a plain sort, with a plain face you see everywhere you go, plain hair color: brown, mousy. The man although what he made up for in looks he got in money and power. Spade with a sense of easiness and relaxation leaned back in his chair, "Call me Sam." he said replying to the man's previous address. With a look of agreement the man answered "Okay, Sam look, I need to hire you to watch a girl for me.", he said with an expression of a frank blankness of severity. Puzzled, Spade questioningly asked, "What kind of girl? Your wife? Look if your some sicko into watching young girls I suggest you do that yourself pal.", there was a sense of a rude missile like attitude in the tone of his voice as he spoke those words. Caught off guard yet amused the man answered "No, it's nothing like that". Spade reassured continued the conversation, "Okay shoot.". Assuring the man said "Alright have you heard of Ms. Edie Sedgwick?", saying this as he began to light the end of his cigarette. Sam Spade with the same easy cool attitude and tone that he always maintained said, "No some blonde bombshell bimbo or something?". The man a bit amused but for the most part annoyed, remained leveled with Spade as he sat folding his arms across his chest, "No not quite she's just one of the most happening young starlets out there right now." the man stated. Spade uncaring responded, "Eh, I don't pay attention to pop-culture.", he said this while he leaned forward in the chair and put the cigarette bud face down into the ashes. Further annoyed the man also put his cigarette bud face down into the grey spread ashes that lied upon the bottom of the tray, "Well really that's not what I'm hiring you for?", the man trailed off quickly adding his own witty comment. Defensively Spade replied "Then what are you hiring me for then?", Spade had said this with a level of counter annoyance which was aimed directly toward the stranger in his office. The man squirming and crossing his legs in the seat, placed his hands upon his lap, "If you would allow me I'm getting to that. See, I need you to watch her, make sure she doesn't get into trouble. The last thing we need for this production is bad press you see, and Edie isn't the most responsible when it comes to what cameras see and what they don't. Catch my drift?" he said, with a smug expression struck across his face. Sam Spade peeved and tense, turned his chair facing the window and he looked outside upon the paved concrete of the sidewalks, and streets below with, "Look, I'm a detective not a baby sitter.", he responded cold and bitterly. The man with a look of uncertainty and misunderstanding began by saying "I never said you were, all I'm getting at is that you will temporarily be her guardian of sorts" her body guard in a way, protecting her from herself you see. All your job pertains to is making sure she gets on set on time, and at least half coherent and not doped out of her mind, understand?", he responded while removing his hands from his lap. Sam Spade sitting up now, leaning forward and questioningly asked "And why hire me?", he asked the man. The man keeping his cool and remaining level headed on things said "Lets just say that you were highly recommended". The man walked out leaving Sam Spade behind the desk with a look of puzzlement and disarray about him, questioning just what he had gotten himself into. 217

It was 11 o'clock, the dark night sky cloaking everything but the light of the street lamps. She was walking down the street on her way to apartment D1 in the lower east side of Manhattan, wearing her best swanky outfit, she rushed past the many reporters and onlookers, pushing past the unrelenting out for blood photographers and remained focused and centered on one thing: the door. As broken glass hit the ground with every flash of the bulbs, photographers quickly exchanging them out for a new one, hoping to get that one lucky shot that could make front-page news. She made her way up the steps to the entrance of the apartment building, the door man upon seeing her quickly opened the door and hurried her inside. There in the lobby of the building awaited many guests of the party, both coming and going at their leisure. The host of this night's glamorous party was the man who lived in apartment D1. We shall call him MR. D1 and every year or so it was he who got around to hosting the years biggest bash. Edie, like she had every year attended the party and was one of the most important well-known guests. Advancing her way towards the front door of Mr. D1's apartment, which was always seemingly open this time of year. She headed inside: finding herself in the usual busyness of the party's mingling crowds, drinking, and the casual full-heated discussions over whatever stirred the minds of intellectuals and Hollywood a-list alike. She floated around the crowd and commenced greeting and chatting up fellow partygoers. Grabbing a drink off the tray she made her way to the back of the room to the location of the host and her usual scene. 318

Welcoming smiles and expressions met hers, and sitting down on the chair nearest the group looked over at two beatniks, a man and a woman arguing over the severity of communism and the cold war. With a half-laughing expression Edie let out, "What an interesting topic we're talking about tonight!" she said this as a motive or way of squeezing herself into the conversation and drawing all attention towards herself. A man who had appeared to have been there just about all day, piped up and exclaimed, "Oh! You have no idea they've been at it all night!" his tone seemed to be of that of obvious intoxication but also that of a youthful excited glee. All of a sudden the man in the heated argument, with his face turned red and contorted, threw his fist down upon the table, "I don't give a damn about the communists!". Noticing how abrupt his words were he found a sudden calmness and he said "As far as I'm concerned the only thing we have to worry about are the bankers or the producers!" Interrupting the man, and mildly amused the woman said laughingly ""or the MGM heads!". The conversation then seemed to open a floodgate as everyone put his or her own two cents worth in. Edie wanting a piece of the action, and hoping to end the lengthy discussion added, "What do we have to hate the Russians for? I mean they gave us Tchaikovsky, Nabokov, and more importantly vodka"" she said while finishing off her drink. Everyone by then amused chuckled lightly at her little joke, if it ever was a joke, that was one of the things you could never tell with Edie was whether or not she was serious. 419

Edie said with a look of want and need painted across her face, "Oh, how dreadful my day was you know sometimes I don't even know why I put up with it and how he always barks orders at me despite the fact he's repeated himself goodness knows how many times, and I have heard him only goodness knows how many times. It's just terrible absolutely terrible, why are people so cruel? I cannot stand cruel people." she said turning her attention towards Mr. D1. Understanding and still he leaned over sympathetically towards her, " Aw darling, come sit by me we shall have something here to release the stress of a hard days work." he said motioning her to take a seat by him on the sofa, while he searched around him for the dangerous equivalent of a days drink after getting off the late shift. Bringing out a spoon, he lit a match, and in a flash crystallizing the powdery substance into the liquid elixir of the hopeless, he loosened his necktie and fastened it around his arm, raising the syringe to himself. Edie; struggling and impatiently waiting, the light around her which seemed to make her glow dimmed little by little. Then handing the needle to her, he leaned back smiling confidently. Looking down at it with a sense of uneasiness she asked, "How much do I owe you?". Eyes meeting hers, the man replied "Don't worry about it. Think of it as a party favor, would you please?". As she raised the syringe to herself, the room became smaller and darker, Edie began to fall down the rabbit hole spiraling into relief and everyday dependence. 520

The sunlight beamed down assuring a brand new day. It was 4:15pm, just the time that the man told him to meet the young starlet outside her hotel. He made himself indiscrete and unnoticeable, which was easy in his line of work. He was told she would be sporting a white dress, black sunglasses, and have short blonde hair. His objective: to follow this lady in white, so he did as she walked down 6th avenue to the corner of 5th street, and called a cab. Which, after Sam Spade's further investigation, led him to several back alleys. There he saw the exchange of hands and the conclusion when the actress was handed a bag of smack, paid generously by her father's charitable donation. He had seen this kind of thing before: All the time some daddy's girl, who got into the business by his dime, and who lets her fame eventually spiral downward for some fix that she's not even able to pay for. 21

But despite that always keeps up appearances hiding her dirty little secret that everyone already knows. So, she was a typical addict, Sam Spade realized this, along with the fact that it would be far more easy baby sitting a junkie than an actual earnest woman. Realizing this he began to relax a little more and put himself at ease. While trailing her though, he would always pick up on the fact that she was aware of his presence. In all likelihood this was perfectly plausible, but deciding to ignore this fact as he continued with his routine surveillance. 622

It was then that she sat down at the local cafe and he drew up a newspaper looking inconspicuous "Are you quite finished following me? I mean I know everyone loves me, but usually men buy me dinner first." she let out laughing. Startled by this sudden spark of conversation, he had nothing to do other than to reply "Well what's on the menu?". Laughing quietly to herself the woman flipped her hair behind her ears while drawing her sunglasses up, and with an outstretched hand said "Well, hello I'm Edie". He nodded replying, "Sam Spade.", he said. Edie looked at him with a sudden acknowledgement, "Ah, where have I heard that name before?! Oh of course you must be the one Jeffrey and the studio hired to keep an eye on me, correct?" she said biting her lower lip. Stunned he said "Wait they told you?" A glow of light-hearted happiness seemed to radiate from her, as she tucked one of the many loose tussles of hair behind her ear, "No not at all, but I find it a ridiculous notion that they could keep the slightest thing from me. Although it is pleasant to hear that they care so much!" she responded. With a look of uncertainty, he said in a questioning manner, "Any idea why that is?". Letting go a youthful smile she said "Well, because Sammy, I'm a reckless, irresponsible Playgirl". Even he, the cold and complacent man he always was said to be couldn't help but be attracted to her bluntness. She said what needed to be said and what was more than likely true coming from the horses mouth herself, "Well, Mr. Spade you know what you can do for me now? Is buy me coffee". Hesitant he looked at her expression which read for an immediate response and helpless in the situation he said, "Sure how do you take it"". Quick to jump she turned to the waiter, and said "No, I'll order don't worry". I'll have a frappuccino and he'll have"". Interrupting her he said turned to the waiter, "Black". Looking down at her feet a bit irritated and with amazement and a look of shock she said, "Oh how dreadful you drink black! I've never met anyone who takes just black usually they take like sugar or creame in it. Oh you poor thing!" she exclaimed with her hand covering her mouth, "Although, I do hear you can tell a lot about a person based on the coffee they drink." she added. Never before in his life has Sam Spade been commented on how he takes his coffee, and pretty soon she began to comment on a lot of things. From the way he dressed, the content of his conversation, even down to how he flossed his teeth. It seems for Sam Spade Ms. Sedgwick had become nothing more than an annoyance. 723

Though, as hours became days and days became weeks, their understanding for one another flourished. This eventually budded into an odd kind of acceptance or adoration towards one another. And then one night, under the clear black of the night sky, while looking up from the city streets below Edie said "Isn't it marvelous! I've never seen the sky so clear! It's just stunning, the stars are completely lovely ." as she said this, Sam Spade fought the urge he had inside to embrace her. Over these past few weeks he felt he had gotten closer to Edie, despite her ups and downs, and highs and lows; he was growing to love her. "Sam is there anywhere you've always wanted to go in your life? I have always wanted to go to Italy. I always thought it was a place onto itself, the Vatican, the art, the fashion! It's surprising I have yet to go in my lifetime considering daddy had us traveling all over Europe when we were younger. I suppose somehow Italy just managed to skip me by." she said. Then with a short blank stare and a deep sigh she let out a hopeless moan, then all of a sudden struck with the spark of an idea she blurted out "Oh Sammy! Let us runaway to Italy, just the two of us wouldn't it be lovely?". Indeed it would be lovely, Sam Spade thought to himself, but he had already broken his own rules. He had to finish this and settle it like nothing more than business, "No, I can't. I won't. Despite what you think, lady we're not friends or lovers here, so, I'm not going to Europe with you or anyone for that matter. Okay kid?". As he said those harsh bitter words, the sounds seemed to pierce him as he spoke them, his face was cold but inside he became a mess, growing chaos within him as he argued with every side of himself and every core of his being. It hurt him more to hurt her then it would ever have Edie he thought. Edie's eyes full of misunderstanding and hurt, unflinching and uncontrollable, she called a cab, "I'm going home"" she said, as she went into the cab, sinking into the darkly lit, smoke ridden, back seat of the car. Little did Sam Spade know that this would be his last time ever seeing Edie again. 824

Feeling badly about the way he had left things the previous night, Sam Spade had gone to Edie's Soho apartment with the full intent of apologizing. As he buzzed the buzzer no one answered and eventually a neighbor, of what appeared to be of Chinese descent, had to let him in. As he walked up the stairs he felt something was wrong, he had ignored his instincts long enough. Something was wrong. He proceeded up each step cautiously, one by one, until he was at her door. It was open, probably because of the fact that she was so distraught the previous night, she had forgotten to close it fully all the way. Sam Spade approached the door pushing it open with his end of his now drawn pistol. The apartment, despite the fact that it was morning, appeared dark with the blinds drawn and black curtains hung. Cigarettes' slowly sat burning out in the ashtray on the counter. The only light on in the apartment was that of the bathroom as it could be seen resonating in the crack underneath the door. As Sam Spade approached the bathroom, uncertain of what he might see, he was for once in his life truly afraid. Reaching for the knob of the door, he turns it; it's locked. Frantically he looks for a way to open the door, a key or something that will permit him entrance. Finally, he breaks down the door, looking down his heart sinks. He, is emotionless, dead, and cold; unable to process what had happened. Grasping with disbelief: On the floor, his eyes traveled from the matches left loosely scattered about, to the spoon laying upon the tiled floor with a hint of death still lingering on it's tip. Then his eyes moved to the syringe, and the belt wrapping, tied tightly around her arm, and finally his eyes met with her cold, lifeless body. Edie lied, her arms and legs mangled together in some sudden release, track marks racing down her arms. The finish line 'her life'. That November Edie died of an overdose on heroin, Sam Spade, still to this day, blames himself. 925

Part Three26

Looking out the window onto the rainy Italian streets below he remembers; he remembers her. Sam Spade came to Italy for her, to do what she couldn't; he came with her, he came to runaway with her. It was the case that finally killed him, it was the woman, the lady that killed him. Sitting in the darken room, silhouettes' cast by the moonlight, a single strand of white smoke is seen from the end of his cigarette, dimly lit in the room. He sits in the corner, on the chair by the window. The silver shine and the cold steel of his pistol sound more attractive by each passing second. The sounds of Fellini's 8 1/227

plays in the background on the TV quietly, muffled, he came for her to this place under the stars that skipped her by. He ran away with her; and raising the gun to his head he put it inside his mouth and pulled the trigger. 1028