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GroupOver there. Look.
Dwight, don't!
Are you nuts? You can't see the cap?
It's not orange enough?
Get out of these woods!
- I can hunt here. I got a permit.
- Lf he's got a permit...
Get out!
Let's go.
That's Dwight Armstrong,
my stepfather.
Accent on "step."
He's a lawyer.
And he's head of
"The Friends of Fish and Wildlife"...
... an extremist pro-mammal group
in Vermont.
Almost all its members, male
and female, look like Dwight.
My real dad died
in a motorcycle wreck when I was 6.
Two years later,
Mom met Mr. Personality.
It has not been a barrel of laughs.
There was a certain poignancy
about today's hunting party.
It was my last evening at home.
Tomorrow I was beginning my first year
at New York University film school.
A freshman. That was me.
My farewell dinner was
raucous and hilarious...
... full of warm, good feelings.
That should cover it.
Dwight gave me $600 spending
... and a hearty handshake.
- Where's the subway?
- Downstairs.
- That way?
- Right.
Forget it. He's out like a light.
The shame of the cities.
- Nothing broken?
- I'm okay.
That was a nasty spill.
- I'm okay.
- You sure?
- I'll give you a hand with those bags.
- No, thanks. I'm fine.
You're a smart kid.
Rule 1:
Don't let anybody touch your bags
unless you know that person is bonded.
I'm bonded, which is your good fortune.
Ignore her.
Who's this stranger talking to you?
It's Victor Ray of the
Victor Ray Car Service.
On your way to college, right?
- New York University.
- Good school.
Thanks. Do you know
where the subway is?
- You don't want the subway.
- Yes, I do.
- It's over there.
- Thanks.
In New York, we have
three distinct social classes.
A: People who make a billion dollars a
day and get laid in Trump Tower.
B: People who live in Times Square and
eat Yankee Doodles on the sidewalk.
C: Me.
Guys I call "the glue of society."
We go, "Forget about it."
All hell will break loose.
- Rich against poor.
- We're on the brink. It's seething.
Come with me.
For $65, you get an air-conditioned
ride and peace of mind.
No, I can't afford that.
I'll take you for the old rate, fifty.
No, it's out of my league.
- How much can you go for?
- I don't know.
- Forty, which for me is charity.
- Ten dollars I can manage.
Ten dollars?
For delivery and security in a
mint-condition Bonneville?
I have to eat.
I can't do better.
I'll walk or take a bus.
Okay, ten bucks.
I'll take you for ten bucks,
but on one condition.
Promise you won't tell anybody.
Word gets out, I'm finished.
- I won't tell a soul.
- Follow me.
I'm parked in a reserved spot.
Let's go. Come on.
Watch out!
Watch out! Suicide attempt, right?
It's bigger than I imagined.
That's true of many things in Manhattan.
The other boroughs too.
Tremendous things in Queens.
Go to the trunk.
It opens from the inside.
Take everything.
You'd be surprised how many people...
Stop the car!
Stop the car, please!
I'd been in New York 19 minutes 11
seconds, and I was already ruined.
The roommate enters. Come on in.
Don't be afraid. That's it. Come in.
I'm holding you in a medium shot.
A lovely shot. Very cinematic.
My name is Clark Kel...
A little confused. I like it.
It sells.
I like actors who think
in front of the camera.
- I'm moving in.
- Is this the right room?
That's a wrap. Check it.
- Steve Bushak.
- How do you do?
Really nice to meet you.
I should go to the police.
Kojak is a fictional character.
- Don't involve the police.
- So I'm just a victim.
Everybody in this city is a victim.
Welcome to New York.
I'm deeply moved.
I understand your position, but...
For Introduction to Film you must own
Fleeber's "Viewpoints in Cinema..."
...and "Selected Readings in Cinema,"


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