Sweet Sweetback's Baad Asssss Song

INT. BROTHEL - ONCE UPON A TIME IN LOS ANGELES, CALIFORNIA

WOMEN lined up like sort of a feminine wild bunch, dressed in housecoats, the 
classic garment of their profession. The time is middle World War II, circa 
1943-44. Each whore is gazing downward with a shy almost maternal look on her 
face. 

A filthy, half-starved nappy headed BOY hunches over a kitchen table gobbling 
food from a plate.  He steals a fugitive glance up at the ladies as if he 
fears being struck or his food taken away, then goes back to eating. 

					CUT TO:

SWEETBACK -- running. We hear the SQUEAL of brakes on a train RUMBLING by.
SUPERIMPOSED on the screen is a quote in both French and English:

		"...Sire, ceci n'est pas une ˘de Ó la brutalitÚ 
		que l'artiste aurait investÚ, mais un hymnee 
		sorti de la bouche de la realitÚ..."

			(Incantation traditionelle du moyenage)

		"...Sire, these lines are not a homage to brutality 
		that the artist has invented, but a hymn 
		from the mouth of reality ..."

			(Traditional prologue of the dark ages)


As the words FADE from the screen, SWEETBACK turns to look behind him and the 
image FREEZES. A police siren WAILS. A new SUPERIMPOSITION appears and we 
ZOOM in on it:

			This film is dedicated 
			to all the Brothers and 
			Sisters who had enough 
			of the Man

					CUT TO:

THE BOY, still glancing nervously at the women and snarfing down his food as 
if eating were going out of style.

An eerie ethereal MUSIC suggests that this is a FLASHBACK to Sweetback's 
youth. One of the women, with an ample bosom, brings the pot from the stove
and refills his plate -- the spoon she uses KNOCKS and CLANGS loudly against 
both plate and pot, lending a further air of unreality to the scene. She pats 
the boy on the shoulder and moves off. The women nod and smile warmly at the 
boy and one another. The large bosomed woman refills the plate again. The boy 
never stops eating. We PAN OFF him and across the faces of the women, still 
smiling maternally.

					CUT TO:

INT. THE BROTHEL - ANOTHER DAY

One of the whores, tall and thin, is washing herself from her basin, half 
squatting and half standing, with one leg propped on a chair. Her door is 
ajar and the boy, the same one who was at the kitchen table but now cleaned 
up and healthy looking, walks past with a load of towels. The woman goes to 
the door. She watches the boy place a towel at her neighbor's door and looks 
around, seeing that the hall is empty except for her and the boy. She calls 
him. 

				WHORE
 		Come here.

He pauses, surprised, as she disappears into her room.

When he enters the room she is standing by the bed, taking off her robe. 

				WHORE
		Close the door.

She sits on the bed waiting. 

				WHORE
		Close the door...

He closes the door and she takes the towels from him and starts to unbutton 
his shirt. After a moment, he helps her to get his shirt and pants off. She 
smiles and nods at him reassuringly. The boy undresses. She puts her hands on 
his waist and lays back on the bed, pulling him on top of her. They stare 
into each others' eyes for a moment before she removes his cap and throws it 
aside. She looks at him with warmth and mischievousness. 

He lays there immobile. 

Pause...

The boy is still immobile. An unseen gospel chorus starts singing "Wade in 
the Water" ...

				WHORE
		You ain't at the photographer's. You ain't 
		gettin' your picture taken... Move...

Pause... and then the boy's back begins to move. We dissolve and intercut 
between the boy's back and her face. The gospel chorus sings a version of 
"This little light of mine, I'm gonna let it shine..."

The boy is a natural. He watches with considerable interest as her expression 
changes to surprise, then to intensity all the time the back is going. Then 
her expression changes to ecstasy and total surrendering.
 
She screams ...

				WHORE
			(Moans)
		Oh, God. 

The singing stops.

				WHORE
		Oh, son. Oh, you got a sweet, you got a sweet, 
		sweetback!

The image FREEZES and the funk takes over as the main title flashes on: 

			SWEET SWEETBACK'S 
			BAAD ASSSSS SONG

The credits continue ("Starring THE BLACK COMMUNITY and BRER SOUL"), 
superimposed over montage of shots of Young Sweetback and the whore, city 
traffic, and the Adult Sweetback's legs running. 

				WHORE
		Oh, that's hot... Oh, God. Oh, God. Oh, son, 
		you, son.

The gospel music returns as we find that while the whore has not aged a day, 
SWEETBACK, having lost his cherry, is now a man. This adult Sweetback looks 
at the whore, puts his cap back on, and begins to get up off the exhausted, 
but supremely satisfied woman.

We hear APPLAUSE and CUT TO:

INT. BROTHEL - NIGHT - CIRCUS SCENE

A small audience APPLAUDS heartily.

A freak show is going on in the living room. A dingy red carpet has been 
placed in the center of the room to imply a stage, and strangely enough, it 
works. We have the impression we are watching theatre; not as it is now, but 
as it once might have been, a morality play or something like that out of the
Middle Ages. The pageant play unfolds entirely in mime. A shapely woman in a 
short dress with a Bride-of-Frankenstein-streaked Afro enters carrying an 
oversized flower, humming a tune. She puts a finger to her mouth, all 
innocence, as she strolls through a park. She kneels and cradles her large 
flower, rocking it like a baby. A bearded man, in a suit and hat and carrying 
a cane, enters with a goofy walk and approaches her. He propositions her but 
she shakes her head, no. He holds out a hand persuasively and she accepts. 
They stroll the park together, arm in arm. She sniffs her flower. He tries to 
put his arm around her but she pulls it away. The audience chuckles a bit at 
some of this.

Meanwhile, in the hall (lit by red lights), the boss of the house, a short, 
grotesque, very black man called BEATLE, is arguing with two white
plainclothesmen, arguing that is, as much as a black man operating outside
the law can argue with white men supposedly representing the law, which
isn't, of course, very much. 

Seems there was a disturbance out in front of Beatle's the night before and
some corpse had the inconsideration to be found on his doorstep. It is the
beat of the two white detectives and they are supposed to be conducting an
investigation. Fortunately, the corpse had been a black man. The
plainclothesmen know the whole thing will quickly blow over... yet still,
keeping abreast of the times, at least a show of concern had to be made for
the poor departed brother. 

				DETECTIVE #1
			(to Beatle)
		Besides, we're getting a lot of static from the 
		commissioner about that stiff we found 
		yesterday, you know what I mean?

The play continues in the living room. The bearded man, having apparently
lured the woman to his room, tries to turn on an imaginary phonograph. 
Beatle, distracted by the police, sees that he's missed his cue and puts the 
needle on a nearby phonograph record. As the MUSIC begins, Beatle resumes 
his, um, discussion with the plainclothesmen.
 
				BEATLE
		We don't know nothin' about no dead man.
 
				DETECTIVE #2
		We know that but the commissioner doesn't. We 
		just want to borrow one of your boys for a 
		couple of hours and take him downtown to make 
		us look good, official-wise.
 
				BEATLE
		Why me? I'm short one man already. George is 
		sick...
  
				DETECTIVE #2
		You're our friend. We knew you'd be willing to 
		lend a hand.
 
				BEATLE
		When did you people start getting so interested 
		in black folks... dead or alive?
 
				DETECTIVE #1
		Progress.

Detective #1 moves to see how the play is progressing.  The bearded man has 
now stripped off his suit jacket and white shirt to reveal a bra -- he is, in 
fact, a she: a lesbian who takes the shocked woman in her arms and dances with 
her. The woman shakes her head vigorously. The lesbian dips her to the floor, 
laying her on her back. The plainclothesmen watch the woman stripped of her 
clothes and the lesbian going down on her, as Beatle addresses them.
 
				BEATLE
		I can't, I'm short... I only got two guys 
		working now... Donald to explain, Sweetback to 
		train, and the two of 'em to trounce and 
		bounce.

The lesbian makes love to the woman who is quickly won over. They simulate 
sex and the woman's legs flail happily in the air. The crowd enjoys itself, 
applauding, smiling, laughing, flashing peace signs.
 
				DETECTIVE #2 
		We got a nice understanding, Beatle.
 
				BEATLE 
		It's mutual. Everybody profits.
 
				DETECTIVE #2
		Let's keep it that way.
 
The exhausted woman finally falls asleep, the lesbian rolls from beside her 
and kneels on the dingy carpet. She folds her hands and begins to pray. The 
lights go off abruptly in the living room. Some of the women spectators 
squeal. Then something appears in the center of the stage spotted with a 
flashlight. It sports an outlandish costume, a white frilly dress, perhaps 
from some long ago ball or wedding, a garland of plastic flowers on its head,
cardboard wings and a Fourth of July sparkler as a wand. It turns full 
circle.

				GOOD DYKE FAIRY GODMOTHER 
		I'm the good dyke fairy godmother. Yes, the 
		good dyke fairy godmother. Why didn't you know 
		that all good dykes have fairy godmothers? 
			(audience laughs)
		And I'm here to answer the prayers ...
		of a good dyke. 
			(audience laughs harder)
		Yes, the good dyke fairy godmother. Didn't you 
		know that all good dykes have fairy godmothers? 
		And I'm here to answer the prayers of a good 
		dyke.
 
It touches the lesbian with the wand.

				GOOD DYKE FAIRY GODMOTHER 
		Zap, child.

And the lesbian, removing bra and beard, turns into a man -- it's Sweetback 
-- and stands up. The people lean forward -- applauding, giggling and
screeching -- catching glimpses of Sweetback's penis. Even though the cops 
have seen the number a thousand times, they always end up drifting across the 
hall standing in the living room doorway trying to look casual. The lights 
come back on. 

				BEATLE
		Why me? I'm short-handed as it is ... George 
		is sick.

On the carpet, the woman awakens, sees Sweetback, and, overjoyed at the 
transformation, they make love once again. The crowd watches with delight as 
the two grind away. 

				CROWD
		Come on baby, Sweetback. 
		Come on girl.
		Clean on down to the bone. 
		Do it, do it do it.
		Jelly, jelly, jelly!
		You got it, Sweetback. 
		You got it brother. 
		You cool, Sweetback.
		Different strokes for different folks. 
 
				DETECTIVE #1
		[?] one of the other boys...We'll have him back 
		for you before tomorrow noon.

The sex is over and Sweetback starts to get up off the exhausted but 
supremely satisfied woman. The Good Dyke Fairy Godmother pats Sweetback on 
his sweet back and raises his arm up as if he'd just won a championship 
fight.

				GOOD DYKE FAIRY GODMOTHER 
		Ha ha! Now Sweetback here's the greatest!
			(audience applauds)
		Greatest in the world. 
			(audience laughs)
		Oh, I know what the hell you're thinking. Ha... 
		How many times have I heard that before? Well, 
		as a special added attraction, if one of you 
		young ladies would like to step up and try 
		this gentleman, I'm sure you'll find him more 
		than lively.
 
A skinny white girl, itching to take advantage of the Good Dyke Fairy 
Godmother's offer stands up but her date pulls her back in her seat.
She snatches her arm away and starts to get up again and take off her dress.
The frozen expressions on the white cops who exchange unbelieving glances are 
counterpointed by Beatle who shakes his head insistently at the Good Dyke 
Fairy Godmother. The Good Dyke Fairy Godmother catches on and saves the 
situation:

				GOOD DYKE FAIRY GODMOTHER 
		But, uh, that is to say, uh, however... 
			(stops the white girl 
			from removing her dress)
		... you know, this offer is only open to, um... 
		sisters?
 
The crowd laughs, the white cops burst into smiles. They turn and exchanging 
broad smiles with Beatle.

				DETECTIVE #2
			(to Beatle)
		Ounce of prevention ...

Beatle's smile fades.

				DETECTIVE #2
	 	... is worth a pound of sniffin' around.

				BEATLE
			(calls down the hall)
		Hey!
 
				GOOD DYKE FAIRY GODMOTHER 
			(to the audience)
		That's all, folks.
 
Beatle gives an order to one of the girls.

				BEATLE
		When Sweetback gets dressed, tell him I want to 
		see him. 

Meanwhile, a heavy-set lady fans herself with a spray of flowers as 
Sweetback's conquest returns to the living room for a standing ovation from 
the audience.

MINUTES LATER

In the red lit hallway, Beatle stands with the cops waiting for Sweetback. We 
PAN from Beatle's nervously tapping toe to the cops' flat feet to Sweetback's 
shoes. We PAN UP to reveal him standing with hands clutched discreetly before 
him. He is sharply dressed, sharp as a rat turd as the expression goes, a rat 
turd having the distinction of being pointed on both ends. His outfit 
pinpoints his status exactly: black pants and vest, cream-colored sports 
jacket, topped off with a black felt copy of a banana plantation overseer's 
straw sombrero, in short, a young up and coming small-time big shot. His 
clothes fit beautifully but the expression on his face seems out of place. 
Something about him makes people uneasy. It's impossible to be sure what his 
stare hides; some would say intelligence, some would say sensuality, some say 
stupidity, some meanness. Anyway, everyone's first thought is to try to get 
on his good side.

The cops and Beatle turn to look at him.

				BEATLE
		Go with these gentlemen for the evening. See 
		you tomorrow.

Sweetback glances from Beatle to the cops and steps forward with uncertainty.
 
EXT. PATROL CAR - NIGHT

The cops flank Sweetback as they walk down a dark street to a parked police 
car.

				DETECTIVE #2  
		Hell of a show you guys put on.
 
Sweetback says not a word. Detective #1 opens the rear door of the car for 
Sweetback who gets in. The Detective #2 joins him in the back seat. Detective
#1 sits in front.

IN THE PATROL CAR

				DETECTIVE #1 
		We aren't going to use the handcuffs.
 
				DETECTIVE #2 
		Just like we told Beatle. Just a little 
		eye-wash.
 
The detective sitting next to Sweetback grins in agreement and the other 
offers Sweetback a smoke. 

				DETECTIVE #1
		Cigarette?

Sweetback shakes his head. 

They drive through the night. City lights play against their faces as they 
ride along. Suddenly the radio breaks the silence. 

				RADIO
		Calling W2, calling W2.
 
 				DETECTIVE #1
		Read you loud and clear.
  
				RADIO
		Proceed to Unit 1. Crenshaw, Sector 2. Back up 
		ten, W4. Community disturbance, possible 415 
		developing.
 
				DETECTIVE #2
		Step on it. 

				DETECTIVE #1
			(into radio mike)
		Roger.

The car's siren WAILS. We see advertising lights in the darkness. Detective #1
spins the wheel and the car's tires SQUEAL around a corner.

EXT. STREET - NEAR RIOT

A shootout has begun between a patrol and some militants. The two 
plainclothesmen are the first reinforcements to arrive on the scene. They 
drive up and park around the corner from the battle. Hopping out, they 
handcuff Sweetback to the door.

				DETECTIVE #1
		I got the cuffs...
			(to Sweetback)
		It's just for appearance sake. We don't want 
		anyone to come around here and find you just 
		sitting here.
 
				DETECTIVE #2
		Don't go away.

Guns drawn, the detectives rush toward the action, disappearing around the 
corner. Sweetback can hear crowd noises and shooting but he can't see what is 
going on. A few moments later, the detectives and two plainclothes colleagues 
dash from around the corner with a young black prisoner in tow. The crowd can 
be heard yelling protests, etc., in background.

				CROWD
		Take your hands off him, jive police, jive 
		police. How would you like somebody coming into 
		your neighborhood?

				DETECTIVE
			(to the prisoner)
		You must be the ringleader.

				DETECTIVE #3
 		Come on, let's get him out of here before a 
		crowd forms.
 
They put the young man, Moo-Moo, in the back seat next to Sweetback and 
handcuff them together. The two detectives pull back and away from the curb 
before skidding off.

But they don't drive directly to the station. 

THE DRIVE

Moo-Moo and Sweetback's faces peer from the back seat. We TRACK through the 
city at night, past neon lit shops, stores, newsstands, signs advertising 
dancing girls, fountains, skyscrapers ...

				DETECTIVE #1 
			(to Moo-Moo)
		You been stirring up the natives, kid?

A red sign reminds us that "JESUS SAVES" ...

IN THE PATROL CAR

The detectives contemplate the universe.

				DETECTIVE #2
		Nice night.

				DETECTIVE #1 
		Yeah.

				DETECTIVE #2
		Nice night for a drive.

				DETECTIVE #1 
		A little walk, too, maybe.

Moo-Moo and Sweetback don't like the sound of that.

The image of the detective at the wheel FREEZES and, to the accompaniment of 
industrial-strength grinding noises, we suddenly 

					DISSOLVE TO:

EXT. OIL WELLS - A PSYCHEDELIC VIEW

[NOTE: In South Los Angeles, there are a series of pumps that have been 
beautified up in the interest of civic mindedness to resemble grasshoppers. 
Big plastic eyes, the size of Volkswagen hubcaps have been fastened on the 
head and steel rods have been welded on for antennas.]

The cops have pulled behind the most secluded oil pump and pulled Moo-Moo and 
Sweetback from the car. The foursome walk along in the dark.

				DETECTIVE #1
		All right, why don't you step out over here. 
		Get some fresh air. That's better. Looky, 
		here... 
				(to Detective #2)
		He doesn't look very tough to me, does he look 
		tough to you?
 
				DETECTIVE #2
		Naw, not too tough.

They begin to beat Moo-Moo. The first blow, to the stomach, makes a nice 
industrial-strength grinding sound, exactly like the oil wells.

				DETECTIVE #2
			(to Detective #1)
		Be careful. Don't mark his face.
 
				DETECTIVE #1
		Oh no, no. I'm not gonna hurt his face.
		All right.

Sweetback, like a black Buster Keaton, looks on blankly. They can't beat 
Moo-Moo too well because he and Sweetback are shackled together. Still, it's 
a brutal beating with the two cops taking turns:

				DETECTIVE #2
		My serve!

				DETECTIVE #1
		I think he's drunk.
 
Moo-Moo can barely stand. 

				DETECTIVE #2 
			(to Moo-Moo)
		Stay on your feet. 

				DETECTIVE #1 
		You're a tough man.

Sweetback looks the other way.
 
				DETECTIVE #2
		Hey, wait a second. 

The detective stops, realizes that Sweetback is still chained to the half-
conscious Moo-Moo, and pulls out his keys to unlock the cuffs.

				DETECTIVE #2
			(genuinely sorry for 
			the inconvenience)
		Hey, Sweetback. I'm sorry, man. Forgot you 
		two were attached together. Let's see if we 
		can't get a little air between ya.

While his partner props up Moo-Moo, he unleashes Sweetback and leads him away. 

				DETECTIVE #2
			(politely, to Sweetback)
		There. You step away there. That's better, 
		isn't it?

Sweetback watches uneasily as they begin to work Moo-Moo over in earnest.

				DETECTIVE #2
		Let's see this militant. You don't look too 
		tough now. If you stayed home at night, you 
		wouldn't get into all this trouble, would you... 
		Come on, stand up straight ... What's the matter 
		with you, you drunk?
 
 				DETECTIVE #1
		He looks like a sniper to me.

The oil pump bobs up and down evilly. 

Moo Moo groans. 

Sweetback stands quietly back with his arms at his sides -- the empty 
handcuff dangles from his wrist. 

Suddenly the pattern of Sweetback's destiny changes. 

The cops have their backs to him. 

He gazes at them bending over Moo-Moo, working him over. 

He grips the free handcuff like a pair of lethal brass knuckles. 

And attacks the cops. 

He is so swift and sure, it is over in a moment: they never even realize what
hit them. 

They fall unconscious and out of view. Sweetback kicks them again and again.

He beats them with the handcuff, his blows rise and fall slowly, intensely,
in time with the oil pump, again and again and again. 

His hand is bloodied.

He gives them one last kick, his anger spent.

He helps the semi-conscious Moo-Moo to sit up. Moo-Moo tries to express his 
gratitude. 

 				MOO-MOO
		Thanks, man. 

Sweetback nods, almost imperceptibly.

 				MOO-MOO
		Where we goin'?

Sweetback is his old noncommittal self. 

				SWEETBACK 
		Where d'you get that "we" shit?

					CUT TO:

CHROMATIC PSYCHEDELIC VIEWS of the oil wells and, as the MUSIC kicks in, 
Sweetback running -- alone. He has split the scene -- and abandoned Moo-Moo 
-- emerging from the spooky psychedelia into the cold light of day:

SWEETBACK RUNNING - DAY

Jacket off, Sweetback runs through a field, down a road, over a bridge.

The accompanying MUSIC crashes to a halt as we

					CUT TO:

INT. BROTHEL - DAY

Near noon the next day, a raiding party of cops CRASH through a door and 
charge through Beatle's Brothel. For the occupants it is the middle of the 
night, everyone had been asleep. 

The whores scream as the cops bust into the rooms, searching. 

The last room they come in is Beatle's. Beatle is in bed with a cat in one 
arm and a rabbit in the other and a stocking cap on his head. Beatle sits up 
in an obviously innocent and surprised manner, as only a black man can.

					CUT TO:

EXT. MONTAGE

Sweetback runs: down by the airport, in the streets, slowing to a walk at the 
sight of cop cars, looking around warily at the sound of sirens WAILING, on 
sidewalks and city streets, near roads and highways, past overpasses and off-
ramps, struggling up a hill, cautiously poking his head out from behind a 
wall next to an orange sign which reads: CAUTION. 

EXT. BROTHEL - DAY

Beatle's place. Sweetback walks the neighborhood, watching the house for the 
right moment to enter. 

INT. BROTHEL - NIGHT

Beatle emerges from the shower to grab a towel, a goofy multi-hued shower cap 
on his head. He sees Sweetback and exclaims:

				BEATLE
		Sweetback!

Beatle starts drying himself off. His is not the prettiest bod in California, 
to put it mildly. Glad to see Sweetback, he starts talking to him. Sweetback 
never says a word.

				BEATLE
		Yeah. Oh, hang loose, baby.
			(ties towel around his waist)
		Yeah. We gotta chop a skoch, you know. I'm 
		gonna lay it on ya, hmmm, Sweetback, baby! 

Beatle puts his arms up to give Sweetback a hug but Sweetback does not 
respond. Cold as ice, in fact. Beatle backs away, tight-lipped, a little 
nervous.

				BEATLE
		Good, yeah. Looking good. 

Beatle goes to the open toilet seat and sits down for a little voiding.

				BEATLE
		Yeah, baby, you gonna have to be awful cool. 
		Cause what you do reflects on all the rest of 
		our little employees. We can't have that 'cause 
		we got a good operation goin' here. Being in 
		public relations, a nice little business. 

Beatle pauses to take some toilet paper and wipe his ass. He rises, flushes, 
moves to check himself in a mirror and rubs his face with a cloth.

				BEATLE
		Yeah, man.
			(points to Sweetback)
		You don't have to worry about nothin'. I'm 
		Beatle, me, Beatle, I'm your man. Everybody 
		got a man. I'm your man; [It's] rough now. 
		Don't worry about it, baby. Don't worry about 
		it. 

Beatle pauses fill a glass with water from the tap. He gargles, loudly. Then 
spits into the sink. Sweetback just keeps staring at him.

				BEATLE
			(off the gargling)
		That make me feel like a new one, baby. Can you 
		dig it? A brand new one.
			(smiles broadly)
		Yeah. 
			(smile fades)
		But you know what, man? 

Beatles sprays deodorant in his pits and continues with his crazed pep talk.

				BEATLE
		Like you gonna have to kinda lay out, stretch 
		out a little while, be real cool. Kinda lay 
		dead. Ol' Beatle'll let you know what's 
		happenin', what's goin' down. You don't have 
		to worry about nothin'. If you need anything, 
		anything at all, brother, just keep the faith 
		in Beatle, ol' Beatle goin' to bring you 
		through, cause this is just a skirmish. You 
		know how the game goes, baby. But you keep the 
		faith in me and you my man. You my favorite man. 
		Can you dig it, baby? Together, you know, 
		maintain. They can't bother you as long as 
		Beatle's with you. Now you go on and hibernate 
		like that ol' bear and don't go nowhere, can 
		you dig it? Yeah? Ha! Mellow. Go out the back 
		door, now. Speed along and don't let nobody 
		know where you at. Let sleeping dogs rest. You 
		dig it, baby? Ha, ha, yeah.
 
					CUT TO:

EXT. BROTHEL - DAY

Coat over his arm, Sweetback steps out on the back porch and pauses at the 
sight of something. We ZOOM IN on him twice before he starts reluctantly down 
the steps.

A uniformed cop, with a hand on his holstered gun, accompanies Sweetback over 
to a corner of the yard where another cop waits. 

The cops still handle him kindly, almost apologetically. Seems that the two 
plainclothesmen Sweetback jumped and beat up by the oil pump are still in 
comas and haven't talked yet. Everyone assumes Sweetback was more or less an 
innocent bystander to Moo-Moo's attack and escape. 

Sweetback and the cops sit down for a friendly chat: 

				COP #1
			(to Sweetback)
 		You were in the car.
 
				COP #2
		Were you still in the car, Sweetback?
 
				COP #1 
		How many men were in the ambush?
 
 				COP #2
		How'd they work it?
 
				COP #1 
		You know they're still unconscious.
 
				COP #2
		Come on, they were your friends too.
 
				COP #1 
		Do you know where Moo-Moo might be?
 
				COP #2:
		We can't figure out what they used to beat 
		them with.
 
				COP 
		Here, give me your coat.

The cop takes Sweetback's coat from off his arm. The image FREEZES for a 
brief moment as they look down and see the handcuffs dangling from 
Sweetback's wrist, and they instantly put two and two together, drawing their 
weapons. The image FREEZES briefly again and then one cop runs to make a call 
while the other covers Sweetback with his gun.

Sweetback rises reluctantly and the cop cuffs Sweetback's wrists.

					CUT TO:

INT./EXT. COMMISSIONER'S OFFICE AND PATROL CAR   

A few moments later, the Commissioner's office is full of reporters. The 
phone rings. The Commissioner answers and listens.

				COMMISSIONER 
		Hmm?

Cop #2 is on the line, sitting in the police car in front of Beatle's.
 
				COP #2
		Sir, I think we discovered the weapon and one 
		of the assailants.
 
				COMMISSIONER
		Uh huh.
 
				COP #2 
		The suspect is a Mr. Sweetback.
  
				COMMISSIONER
		Yeah.

				COP #2
		I think we have a new development in the case.

Two black kids with pails want to wash the cop's car. 

				GIRL
		Wash your car, mister?
 
				COP #2
		Stop bothering me, now get away from here...
			(to the Commissioner)
		I'm sorry, sir.
 
				COMMISSIONER
		Proceed.

				COP #2
		He didn't tell me where Mr. Moo-Moo was -- or 
		anybody else.
 
The Commissioner glances at the reporters who are jotting things down in 
their notebooks. He can't speak freely, so he repeats, more distinctly this 
time:

				COMMISSIONER
		Proceed.

				GIRL
		No charge if you don't like it!
 
				BOY
		Yeah, no charge if you don't like it!
 
				COP #2  
		Now just move away from the car.

The Commissioner speaks slowly and distinctly as if he were dictating -- and 
the reporters jot down what he says.

				COMMISSIONER
		Oh yes, I see. You have the witness called 
		Sweetback ... and Mr. Sweetback knows the 
		whereabouts of the suspect ... but that Mr. 
		Sweetback has been injured in a fall. Not too 
		badly, I hope.
 
				COP #2 
		Fell down and bruised himself, sir?
 
				REPORTER
		Can we print that, Commissioner?

				COMMISSIONER 
			(to the reporters)
		Of course. I have no secrets from the press.
 
				COP #2
		I don't?? I'm sorry, sir, I don't understand ...

The cop on the other end of the line is thoroughly confused.

				COMMISSIONER
			(even more distinctly)
		Fine, fine... You say the witness has given you 
		the whereabouts of the suspect. Too bad the 
		witness has injured himself in a fall.

Finally, the cop begins to get the message.  

				COP #2
		Okay ... right, sir!
 
				COMMISSIONER
		Proceed!

The Commissioner hangs up, sighs, and smiles to the reporters.

					CUT TO:

EXT. BROTHEL

The first cop comes back from the car telephone. The other cop has Sweetback
seated and has his police special trained on him.

				COP #1 
			(to Cop #2)
		Well?
 
 				COP #2 
		Commissioner says beat the information out of 
		the nigger before we get him to the station.
   
The first cop holsters his gun and the two of them pull Sweetback to his 
feet. They immediately begin to work Sweetback over. Sweetback doesn't utter 
a sound. Well, maybe a little grunting. They knock him to the ground a few 
times and haul him to his feet in order to knock him down again. He develops 
a bloody lip.

				COP #1
		Let's take him some place where we can really 
		work on him.

They half drag, half push Sweetback to:

EXT. THE PATROL CAR ...

...  which the kids are busy washing. The kids run off as the cops arrive 
with Sweetback.

They stick Sweetback in the back seat and get in. 

The kids watch the car from a safe distance. 

As soon as the cop shuts his door, the car bursts into flames. 

A nearby crowd panics and runs. 

One guy runs over and opens the rear door, allowing Sweetback to escape. 

Sweetback runs off as the two cops try to deal with the fire. One exits out 
the rear and tries to free the other, still trapped inside.

We catches glimpses of the crowd, the cops, Sweetback running and hiding, a 
fire engine arriving, Sweetback peering through a chain link fence, etc.

The crowd watches as the car's engine EXPLODES, blowing the hood off.

In the confusion, Sweetback casually leaves the scene, walking past a fire 
chief's car.

The car BURSTS into a ball of flame. A couple of times.

Sweetback climbs down a manhole into the sewers. It's a difficult chore with 
his wrists cuffed together. Finally, he hits bottom, up to his ankles in 
sewage.

					CUT TO:

INT. COMMISSIONER'S OFFICE - DAY

The Commissioner picks up a RINGING phone. He rises and listens with 
increasing anger -- but all we hear are two police radios:

				TWO SIMULTANEOUS RADIOS
	The suspect has escaped
	from the arresting
					  twelve units have been alerted
					  search pattern has been constructed
					  over the area  
	Unit  6A-2
	an explosion detonated
					  following barricades have been set up
					  immediately adjoining the streets
	vehicles causing
	extensive damage
					  four additional units are now
					  on the scene assisting
	when second officer 
	went to the rescue of 
	the driver 			  
					  all other available units are being 
					  deployed in searching the area 
	the witness disappeared  
	in the busy crowd 	  
					  impossible to escape apprehension 
					  matter of moments ... 

Livid with rage, the Police Commissioner SLAMS down the phone, silencing the 
radios. He approaches a wall map and stares at it. 

					CUT TO:

INT. WOMAN'S KITCHENETTE - DAY

KNOCKING on a door. A woman moves to the door and peeks through a shade.  She 
stares out and quickly opens the door. Sweetback comes in. She immediately 
lights into him.

				WOMAN
		You sure are Jive and don't you tell me you 
		came here looking for Steve. You know Steve's 
		not here. He's got two more months to do...

Sweetback doesn't answer.

				WOMAN
		What are you, some kind of Indian giver or 
		something? You gave me to him.... I knew you'd 
		be back.
 
Sweetback holds the handcuffs in front of her face and she stops abruptly.

				WOMAN
		What do you want me to do, take them off?

Sweetback holds the handcuffs closer to her. 

				WOMAN
		Beg... 

				SWEETBACK 
		No.

				WOMAN
		You too proud to beg?

				SWEETBACK 
		But you wouldn't take them off if I did.

				WOMAN
		You know every Goddamn thing, don't you?
		Well, first things first.

And she pulls his pants down and, smiling, lays back on the bed. Sweetback 
moves toward the bed and lays on top of her. They go at it. Sure, Sweetback's 
been beaten up and hasn't slept in who knows how long but she is moaning with 
pleasure pretty darn quickly.

				MALE VOICE
		Where's Sweetback?!

					CUT TO:

EXT. BEATLE'S BROTHEL

We PAN DOWN the building.

 				VOICE #2
		Where's Sweetback?

				BEATLE'S VOICE
		I don't-- I don't know where Sweetback is.

				VOICE #3
		Where's Sweetback?!

				BEATLE'S VOICE
		I don't know. I don't know where Sweetback is.
 
				VOICE #4
		Come on, come on, you can tell us.

					CUT TO:

INT. BEATLE'S ROOM

Beatle's face more grotesque than ever. His chest is bare. His eyes seem as 
if they are going to pop out of his head. Sweat is pouring from his forehead 
and he looks as if he has been crying and is going to cry again any minute. 
His bedroom is a shambles and three detectives are grilling him. One has him 
by the nap of his hair and the other two watch. 
  
				DETECTIVE #3
			(to the others)
		He seems to be hard of hearing. 

				DETECTIVE #4
		If he don't talk, he's going to be.

The cop gently caresses Beatle's ear with the muzzle of his pistol.

				DETECTIVE #3 
 		Where's Sweetback? Where is he?

				DETECTIVE #4
		Where's Sweetback?
 
				BEATLE
		I don't know where Sweetback ...
 
 				DETECTIVE #3 
		Where's Sweetback?
 
 				DETECTIVE #4
		Come on, boy.
 
The cop FIRES a shot into the ceiling. The NOISE makes Beatle's face go all 
psychedelic for a moment. The questioning continues... but is only half as 
loud.
 
 				DETECTIVE #3
		Where is he?

				BEATLE 
		I don't know where Sweetback is.
 
				DETECTIVE #4
 		Come on, boy, talk.
 
 				DETECTIVE #3
		Where's Sweetback?
 
 				DETECTIVE # 4
		Come on, boy

				DETECTIVE #3
		Where's Sweetback?
 
				DETECTIVE #4
		He must be deaf.
 
				DETECTIVE #3
		If he isn't, he's going to be.
 
				DETECTIVE #4 
		Look at me.
  
 				DETECTIVE #3
		Where's Sweetback?

 				BEATLE
		I don't know where he is.
 
 				DETECTIVE #3
		Where's is he?
 
 				BEATLE
		I don't know where Sweetback-- I don't know 
		where Sweetback is.
 
 				DETECTIVE #3
		Come on! 

				DETECTIVE #4
		Where's Sweetback?

				BEATLE
		I don't know where Sweetback--

 				DETECTIVE #3
		Tell him!

				DETECTIVE #4
		Where's he at?

The cops spin Beatle in his chair. Beatle's face is distended with pain.
Blood runs from his ear.

 				DETECTIVE #3
		Where's Sweetback?
 
				BEATLE
		I haven't seen Sweetback.

 				DETECTIVE #3
		SWEETBACK!!!
 
				DETECTIVE #4
		You only got one good ear left, boy, you want 
		to save it? You want to talk?

The cop puts the chamber to the other ear and FIRES -- more momentary 
psychedelia, as Beatle puts a hand to his head -- and the sound gets echoey 
and distorted:

				VOICE #1
		This guy's tough. Both ears are gone! And he 
		still won't talk!
 
 				VOICE #2 
		Yeah, tough.

Beatle rolls his eyes to Heaven.

						CUT TO:

EXT./INT. CHURCH MONTAGE

A woman lowers her eyes from Heaven, bows her head, and cries:

				WOMAN IN CHURCH
		Oh, Jesus!

Outside, Sweetback runs, now without handcuffs, pausing at a chain link fence 
to get his bearings, along a lengthy brick wall, down an alley, etc., on his 
way to the church. We INTERCUT these with the scenes in church:

One woman wipes her eyes with a rolled up ball of tissue paper. Others cry 
and wail:

				WOMEN
		Oh, Jesus ... 
		Oh, Lord. 
		Oh, Jesus. 
		Oh, Jesus.
 		Oh, Jesus, take him into glory, Lord. 
		Yes, Lord.
 		You know his heart. Lord.
 		Oh, Jesus.
 
INT. CHURCH

Sweetback comes into the side entrance of the church off the alley. Stealthily
he approaches the main room of the church. We hear a preacher preach a funeral
service to four old women and six tough looking young blacks.

				PREACHER
		Yes, Lord, black misery.

Someone sings a snatch of "By and By" -- a gospel standard.

				WOMEN
 		Save him, save him, Lord. 
		You know his heart.
		Save him. 
		Save him.
 
				PREACHER
		Yes, Lord! Brothers and Sisters, one of us... 
		Brothers and sisters, we're here 'cause one of 
		our brothers is in that box, but he's not dead. 
		He's alive and with us.
 
				WOMEN 
		Jesus!
 
Sweetback stands in the shadows, looking into the front room.

				PREACHER
		We can't see him but we know he's here... I'm 
		glad to tell you today that though he may be in 
		that box, he's gonna be in heaven with us. I can 
		see him now... God God Almighty, that's our man. 
		Yes, my children, he is dead ...

				WOMEN
		Save him, Lord!

				PREACHER
		... but he is not dead, he is with us here 
		today.

 				WOMEN  
		You know his heart.

Sweetback peers through a partition. He stays back in the shadows. The 
preacher continues to preach.

				PREACHER
		Our brother died here today of an overdose, an 
		overdose of black misery ... Yes, Lord! 
			(sees Sweetback)
		We'll bow our heads in prayer ... 

The preacher bows his head but his eyes peer up at Sweetback. As the mourners 
pray, the preacher walks over and joins Sweetback in the rear.

				PREACHER
		What are you doing here, Sweetback? They're 
		looking for you. You're as hot as little 
		sis's twat. 

Sweetback moves off. The preacher shuts the door to the front room and 
follows him.

				PREACHER
		Where you goin'?
 
				SWEETBACK
		I don't want you to cover for me... I'm goin' 
		upstairs to the farm.
 
				PREACHER 
		To the farm? You can't hide there!

Sweetback ignores him and exits the building, climbing a long flight of 
wooden stairs to an upstairs floor of the church. After a moment, the 
preacher follows him out the door but stops at the foot of the stairs.

Through an open door to the "farm" -- a haven for unwed mothers and a source 
of prostitutes for the brothel -- we can see a mostly naked young woman on a 
cot, screaming and moaning, clutching her head. 

Sweetback shuts the door and walks slowly back down the stairs to the 
preacher.

				PREACHER
		You can't hide there.

Back INSIDE THE CHURCH, the preacher confronts Sweetback: 

				PREACHER
		They know all about the farm, and not only 
		yesterday, the unwed mothers... the girls I get 
		you from upstairs. The Man knows about 
		everything... 

Women's voices from the front room can be heard singing joyfully.

				PREACHER
		Ain't it strange when we die, our folks like to 
		rejoice -- but when it comes to the living, 
		that's it. The hype I'm layin' down for them 
		people inside, it ain't dangerous. I'm just 
		selling them a little bit o' happiness, you 
		know? From the Happy Land. We're all gonna die 
		-- so all I want 'em to have is some peace
		... It's my job to make them believe that 
		they're going to get it better on the other 
		side. It's my job. Moo-Moo, the boy you saved, 
		and those other kids, they're layin' down the 
		real religion. They got it. You offer pretty 
		good news to me, slappin' up on some white cops. 
			(laughs, slaps his thigh) 
		Yes, indeed. 
			(smiles, holds up cross)
		I'm gonna say a black Ave Maria for you. Like 
		the kids say, "later for waiting."  You saved a 
		plant that they were planning to pick in the bud. 
		That's why the Man's down on you. That's why the 
		Man's down on you.

Sweetback lowers his eyes. Grinning, the preacher approaches him.

				PREACHER
		I'm still gonna say a black Ave Maria for you.

The preacher crosses himself and ends the gesture with a clenched fist.

						DISSOLVE TO:

INT. GAMBLING DEN - NIGHT

A radio is on:

				RADIO
		Right on we go on KGFJ Soul Radio with Sandra Z, 
		the new hit by Earth, Wind and Fire.

It's night and we're in a room, a sleazy little gambling place. Under a lamp, 
four or five men sit as the dealer shuffles the cards. Other men stand around 
the table watching -- among them, Sweetback.

Sweetback looks around for the manager who, after a moment, enters, sniffs, 
and approaches his old friend. Sweetback and the sharply-dressed manager 
stand together among the other kibitzers, watching the card game progress.

				MANAGER
		What does a dead man need bread for? So they 
		was whipping a brother. How many brothers have 
		you whipped? How many sisters you slipped?  
		Life is tough, baby. A real struggle, from the 
		womb to the tomb. Every dollar we make, the 
		guineas get twenty, the po-lice get forty and 
		Goldberg gets fifty. Anybody can tell ya that 
		don't add up to a dollar. That adds up to a 
		dollar and a dime. That's why all of us niggers 
		is so far behind.

				CARD PLAYER 1
		And Africa shall stretch forth her arms!
 
				CARD PLAYER 2 
		Yeah, and bring back a bloody stump.
 
				CARD PLAYER 3
			(a Latino)
 		Viva Puerto Rico Libre! 
		(Long live a free Puerto Rico!)

The card players laugh.
 
				MANAGER
		I haven't forgot you staked me, Sweetback. If I 
		had the dough, I would lay it on you, but I 
		don't have it. I wouldn't shuffle or shit you, 
		baby. Wouldn't do it for nothin'. You can't get 
		out of this town on wings, wheels or steel. I 
		wouldn't shuffle or shit you, brother. Like I 
		said, what does a dead man need bread for?

				VOICE
		Albuquerque, Wichita Falls, ramp seven. San 
		Diego ...

					CUT TO:

INT./EXT. BUS STATION - NIGHT

FREEZE FRAMES of white guys: in a bathroom, by a pinball machine, by a 
cigarette vending machine. They all look around suspiciously, trying 
to look innocuous.

					CUT TO:

MANAGER'S CAR

Big Henry, the manager's bodyguard, gets in the car and reports to the 
manager and Sweetback. 

				BIG HENRY 
		Just like the rail station, boss. Full of pigs.

					CUT TO:

CAR RIDE

The manager, Big Henry and Sweetback drive through the city: semi-psychedelic 
views of various buildings, bus stations, etc. Suddenly:

 				SWEETBACK
		Stop!

Sweetback leaps out of the car and runs. Big Henry and the manager exchange 
puzzled glances.

Sweetback approaches a man with a red hairnet on the sidewalk. It's Moo-Moo. 
Sweetback brings him to the car and they get in. Moo-Moo introduces himself 
to Big Henry and the manager.


				MOO MOO 
		I'm Moo Moo, brothers.

The manager and Big Henry look mighty surly.

				MANAGER
		You the guy who got my buddy in all this 
		trouble.
 
 				BIG HENRY 
		Yeah.

The car pulls away, with the four of them inside, heading out of the city. It 
begins to rain.

				MOO MOO 
		Where you brothers goin'?

They don't answer. They simply drive on through the city. The JESUS SAVES 
sign prominently double-exposed as they pass buildings, go through a tunnel, 
and onto a small rural road. Big Henry holds a gun in his hand. The car 
travels down a deserted road, deep in the boondocks, where crickets CHIRP.

The car stops.

				MANAGER
		This is the best that I can do for you on such 
		a short notice.

Sweetback and Moo-Moo get out of the car.

Big Henry points his gun at them just in case they disagree. 

				MANAGER
		Buy yourself a last supper... You're a dead 
		man.
 
Sweetback and Moo-Moo shut the car doors. The car skids off into the night. 

Sweetback and Moo-Moo are nowhere. They begin to walk down the road, into the 
forest. 

					FADE OUT

FADE IN

A gigantic flashlight shines directly into the CAMERA and there is a powerful 
roar. It isn't a flashlight at all. It's a headlight. We DISSOLVE TO a 
motorcycle gang revving their motors in silhouette, then to Sweetback asleep 
on a dirt floor. He opens his eyes. The powerful headlight shines on him. 
He's surrounded by bikers. One Motorcycle Guy crouches over him.

				MOTORCYCLE GUY #1
		What have we here?
 
				MOTORCYCLE GUY #2
		Well, looks like we have a couple of private 
		trespassers and you just trespassed on private 
		property.

				MOTORCYCLE GUY #1 
		And that's a no no.

Sweetback sits up and gets to his feet. Seems he and Moo-Moo have stumbled 
into a motorcycle gang's den, an abandoned building that was probably a power 
station or small factory. Scattered here and there on the dirt floor, there 
are still indentations where pieces of heavy machinery must have stood.

				MOTORCYCLE GANG
		Let's stomp 'em, man. Stomp 'em. 
		They got to pay, man, they got to pay. 
		Give 'em a chance, man, this is a democracy. 
 		Look it!
			(removes Sweetback's wristwatch) 
		Look at this, look what he brought me!
		Payment number one. 
		He's got the goods.
		Let me kick his fucking ass. 
		No, no. Naw.  ...  you ought to save him.
		Yeah!
		Save him for something even heavier than you.
		For what?
		Something sporty. 
		Like what? 
		Sporty?
		Well ...
		Like what? 
		How about a duel? 
		A duel?
 
It is obviously a routine the cycle guys have pulled before. Sweetback tries 
to figure out where they are headed.

				EVERYBODY
		A duel, a duel.
 		Sounds good to me.
 		Yeah, like in the good old days. 
		The good 'ol days. 
		Me, me and hairnet.
  		No, no, no. 
		Got to throw him back. He's too little. 
		That's the one. 
			(pointing at Sweetback) 
		Yeah! Yeah! 
		I think we should have something good, really 
		lay on something good.
		All right! The Prez. 
			(Laughter) 
		The Prez. All right, the .. Prez. 
		That'll be good. 
		Right on.
		Yeah, when the Prez comes back. Yeah, you gonna 
		get it.
		You and the Prez are gonna duel.
 		Right on.

A pack of motorcycles roar into the "den" like the hounds of hell.

				BIKERS
			(Shouts)
		The Prez, the Prez.

The chief and eight or nine other members ride in.
 
				MOTORCYCLE GUY #1
		Hey, Prez, have we got news for you...Hey, have 
		we got work for you...We gotta guy for you to 
		duel...

The chief is enormous, six feet something, wearing a white helmet, goggles, 
boots, etc. The chief strides over to Sweetback and sizes him up. 

				MOTORCYCLE GUY #1
			(To Sweetback) 
		You're black, man...What's it gonna be? ... 
		Wrestlin'?
 
The chief swaggers over to a big bike and lifts it off the ground. The bikers 
gasp and whistle in awe and encouragement.

				GANG 
		Hey, how about knives?
		Ha ha!

One biker tosses a knife to the Chief who throws it hard, sticking it two or 
three inches into an oak post. Sweetback looks rather intimidated.

				GANG 
		Come on, man, your choice -- what's it gonna 
		be? Huh? What's it gonna be, man? 

The chief takes off her goggles and helmet -- yes, the chief is a woman. A 
white woman. With long, long red hair. She looks at Sweetback. Sweetback 
looks at her.

				GANG 
		Come on, man, come on, babe, what's it gonna 
		be?...Huh? What's it gonna be? Your choice, 
		baby.

Long pause as Sweetback looks from the bikers to the chief and back again. 
Finally, he makes his choice:
  
				SWEETBACK
		Fucking.

The gang shouts, indignant. The chief, a.k.a. The Prez, a.k.a. Big Sadie, 
signals for silence. 

				PREZ (BIG SADIE)
		Shut up.

That settles that. Big Sadie makes a gesture and pandemonium breaks loose. 
The bikes are arranged in a circle with their headlights pointing in the 
middle. Some of the gang lay their leather jackets in the arena. Some drive 
their cycles up on a loading ramp, turn the headlights toward the center, 
too. 

Big Sadie, lit by the ring of light and stark naked, lays down on the 
jackets, folds her arms behind her head and opens her legs, ready to do some 
serious fucking. After a pause, she sits up and calls to an unseen Sweetback.

				PREZ (BIG SADIE)
			(smirking)
		Well? 

Her voice echoes the "Well?" several times.

She walks around the ring and clasps her hands above her head, doing the 
fighter victory thing. The gang members roar their encouragement -- shouting 
and clapping. "Ta ra ta ta de ta," one joker imitates a fanfare. She lays 
down.
 
Sweetback enters the ring. He is naked too, except for a black derby 
someone has stuck on his head, a white bow tie, and a pair of spats fastened 
around his ankles. He looks like a refugee from an old Tarzan comic strip. 

Sweetback lays down on Big Sadie. Everybody watches.
   
				MOTORCYCLE GUY 
		Bet Sambo's so scared he can't even get it on.
 
				MOTORCYCLE GIRL
		After the Prez does you in, then we'll do you 
		in.
 
Sweetback starts to work. 

				GANG
		YEAH. 
		Yeah.
		Get it on.
		Ball him in the bad health, Prez. 
		Do it to him, Prez. 
		Get it, Prez, get it.
			(Laughing, shouts, clapping) 
		Get it, Prez.
 
Sweetback tosses his derby aside, just as he tossed his cap aside at the 
brothel. 

Things get down and dirty. Big Sadie's arms come from behind her head... she 
begins to hug him. In short, Sweetback begins to make a believer of her. 

She begins to moan with pleasure, a rumbling roar begins to form in her 
throat. This dance of life transcends all the frontiers of time, place, color. 

The spectators are locked with them as if they themselves were writhing on 
the floor. They begin to cheer them on. 

Suddenly, Big Sadie bellows and begins to scream with pleasure. 

				PREZ (BIG SADIE)
			(screams)
 		Ooooooh, Sweetback, oooooh. 
		Ooooooh, Sweetback! Get it, Sweetback!
		Ooooooh, Sweetback!

Big Sadie giggles and grins a beautiful grin and the image FREEZES.

Sweetback stands up the winner, puts on his derby. Big Sadie lays there 
almost beautiful and suddenly shy. Exhausted but supremely satisfied.
 
				MOTORCYCLE GUY
		Shit.

The battle is over. The bikers rev their engines and drive off into the night.

					CUT TO:

EXT./INT. COUNTRY BAR-POOL HALL - LATER THAT NIGHT

Sweetback and Moo-Moo are taken down the road to a combination bar-pool hall, 
closed for the season. The gang breaks the lock and puts them inside. 

				MOTORCYCLE GUY #1
		You'll be cool here. We'll fix you up with help 
		in the morning.
 
     				MOTORCYCLE GUY #2
		Nobody'll bother you here... Have a good time...
		Come on...
 
				MOTORCYCLE GUY #3
		No danger here.

As they leave, the motorcycle guys confer.
 
				MOTORCYCLE GUY #1 
		Did you get 'em on the phone?

				MOTORCYCLE GUY #2
  		Yeah, yeah.

				MOTORCYCLE GUY #3
		How long will it take?

Inside the bar, Sweetback turns on a light. Moo-Moo looks around uneasily. 
Sweetback sits, tired. Moo-Moo finds a few bottles of beer and offers one to 
Sweetback, who accepts. Moo-Moo pulls a pool ball from a pocket of the pool 
table and shows it to Sweetback, who grabs a cue stick.

Sweetback and Moo-Moo play pool to pass the time. Sweetback wins a game, 
sinking a couple of balls with one arm held behind his back. Moo-Moo shrugs. 
Before they can rack the balls for a new game, they hear a noise and look to 
see:

Two white cops, guns drawn, walk in on them. Sweetback holds out his wrists to 
be cuffed. The cop gets one of the cuffs on but Sweetback turns and punches 
the cop in the eye, blinding him. 

When the other cop turns to help, Moo-Moo clobbers him from behind with a 
pool cue. 

The blinded cop fires his gun wildly as Sweetback and Moo-Moo try to avoid 
the shots. 

Moo-Moo gets clipped in the shoulder by a bullet and goes down. 

Sweetback sneaks up on the cop and strangles him from behind with the 
handcuffs. 

The other cop rises and throws a chair at Sweetback, who ducks. The chair 
smashes up a large mirror behind him. 

Sweetback up-ends the pool table and crouches behind it, holding a broken 
pool cue. The cop, gun in hand, peers cautiously over the table. Sweetback 
watches the cop in a fragment of the broken mirror and with perfect timing, 
pops up, and spears the cop in the chest with the sharp end of the cue stick. 
It takes about a half a minute for the cop to die.

Sweetback finds the handcuff keys and unshackles himself, then helps the 
wounded Moo-Moo to his feet. They start for the door. Moo-Moo nods that he 
can make it. 

Before they can exit, the door swings open. It's a guy from a black 
motorcycle club, in biker regalia. He looks around the room, which is a mess, 
at the cops who are lying on the floor, staring up at the swinging lamp 
overhead like they are going through some eternal interrogations. The biker
nods, impressed.

				BLACK MOTORCYCLE GUY
		Big Sadie, the Prez, heard her guys planning 
		this cross... so she called us.  

OUTSIDE, the biker and Sweetback help Moo-Moo to a waiting motorcycle.

				BLACK MOTORCYCLE GUY
		Look here, I can only take one of you... I 
		won't get ten feet with three people on this
		bike... Now, they told me to pick up Sweetback
		... You Sweetback, ain't you?

Sweetback thinks it over. 

				SWEETBACK
			(off Moo-Moo)
		Take him.

				BLACK MOTORCYCLE GUY
		You know what you're doin', man?
 
				SWEETBACK
		He's our future, Br'er. Take him.

The biker looks from Sweetback to Moo-Moo and nods.

Sweetback helps Moo-Moo on the back of the bike and the cycle starts off, 
Moo-Moo is so faint, he immediately falls off. The biker circles around and 
they put Moo-Moo back on. 

				BLACK MOTORCYCLE GUY
		Take these straps here.

Strapped on, Moo-Moo shakes Sweetback's hand.
 
				MOO MOO 
		Sweetback. 

Sweetback shakes the biker's hand, they exchange a salute. The cycle roars 
off down the road. Sweetback watches it go, then looks around. The cops' car 
sits abandoned. Sweetback ducks into the underbrush. MUSIC: "Come on Feet Do 
Your Thing"

SWEETBACK RUNNING - COUNTRY - NIGHT

Sweetback running, running through the night.

 				SWEETBACK'S HEAD
		come on feet 
		cruise for me 
		trouble ain't no place to be 
		come on feet 
		do your thing 

SWEETBACK RUNNING - CITY - NIGHT

 				SWEETBACK'S HEAD
		come on feet 
		do your thing 
		you're on old whitey's game 
		come on legs 
		come on run 
		come on legs 
		come on run 
		guilty's what he say you done 

SWEETBACK RUNNING - AQUEDUCT - DAY

Police sirens WAIL as Sweetback is a tiny figure running the length of a huge 
nearly dry aqueduct, past freight trains, sewage, etc.

 				SWEETBACK'S HEAD
		come on knees 
		don't be mean 
		come on knees 
		don't be mean
		ain't first red you ever seen 
		come on feet 
		do your thing 
		come on baby 
		don't cop out on me 
		come on baby 
		don't give in on me 
		come on feet 
		cruise for me 
		come on legs 
		come on run 
		come on feet 
		do your thing 
		who put the bad mouth on me 
		anyway the way I pick em up 
		and put em down 
		even if it got 
		got my name on it 
		won't catch me now

We TRACK past a parking lot full of police cars.

						CUT TO:
 
INT. CONFERENCE ROOM AND COMMISSIONER'S OFFICE - DAY 

The Commissioner addresses a roomful of plainclothesmen and uniformed cops. 

				COMMISSIONER
		I want them! I want them, do you hear?! And I 
		want them now. God, there could be an uprising 
		on our hands. Cop killers and niggers to boot! 
		No patrol will be safe in their area ... That's 
		all. 

The police begin to file out.  He motions to the Negro patrolmen in the
audience to wait behind.

				COMMISSIONER
		Hey, Rossie, Bill, just a minute... Ah, look, 
		you guys, I didn't mean any offense by, aah, uh, 
		by that word I used.  It was just a... It's a 
		figure of speaking, you understand... You know,
		you guys could be a real credit to your people 
		if you brought those guys in. Okay?
 
The cops leave without a word. The Commissioner, pleased with himself, 
returns to his desk and sits.

						CUT TO:

EXT. SWEETBACK RUNNING - DAY 

Sweetback catches his breath, leans on a pipe, watches a bird which flies 
away.

				SWEETBACK'S HEAD
		bet I broke the Olympic 220 
		or cross country 
		or somethin 
		sure is lonely 
		sure most quietest turf I ever seen

Sweetback spots a helicopter overhead and takes off again.

				SWEETBACK'S HEAD
		what happened to the sun 
		sure gone away 
		sure blacker than a landlord's soul 
		must have run all day 
		yeah, must have run all day 

						CUT TO:

MOTEL RAID - DAY 

Cops dash up the outside steps of a motel. The clerk lets them in. 

A black man and a white woman are in bed. The cops swoop down on the man so 
rapidly he gets kicked and slapped ten times before God even gets the news. 

The woman screams, is pulled out of bed naked, a gun pointed at her. The man 
is bloodied, the floor is bloodied, the butt of a cop's pistol is bloodied.

				SWEETBACK'S HEAD
		sure am a bitch 
		must have run all day 
		sure yeah 
		yeah baby 
		come on feet 
		cruise for me 
		come on feet
		come on run 
		come on legs 
		come on run
		come on feet 
		do your thing 
		come on feet 
		do your thing 

They throw the black man through the glass window. The cops hold the man's 
head up by his hair so the plainclothes detective can get a good look at him. 
The detective, the motel clerk, and the naked woman peer at him. 

BLACK GUY'S POINT-OF-VIEW

The detective, the motel clerk, and the naked woman are out of focus for a 
moment -- then the three of them appear clearly. The motel clerk casts 
surreptitious glances at the naked woman's body.

BLACK GUY'S FACE
Bloody, gasping, a gun to his head. But it isn't Sweetback, it's a mistake.

				DETECTIVE #1
		That's not him.
 
				COP
		So what?

					CUT TO:
 
EXT. SWEETBACK RUNNING - THROUGH CITY STREETS - NIGHT

INSET SCREENS show police cars, lights, donut shops, etc.

				SWEETBACK'S HEAD
		come on feet 
		cruise for me 
		come on feet 
		come on run 
		come on legs 
		come on run 
		come on feet 
		do your thing 
		come on feet 
		do your thing

Sweetback smashes the glass in a door, reaches in, turns the knob, lets 
himself in to a darkened room and crouches down. Police arrive shine a 
flashlight in through the hole in the glass but fail to catch him.

					CUT TO:

INT. COMMISSIONER'S OFFICE - NIGHT 

A detective comes in and gives the Commissioner a thumbs up victory sign. 

				DETECTIVE #3
		Bingo, we got him.

The Commissioner rises from his desk, his jacket is off and the gun in his
holster looks enormous.

					CUT TO:

INT. CITY MORGUE - NIGHT 

It looks like the Commissioner is standing in a bank vault with a wall of 
enormous safety deposit boxes behind him.

				COMMISSIONER
		If things change, the majority of people will 
		decide where and when. This is a democracy, it's not 
		communism.  And we're all going to respect the law 
		or pay the consequences. 

We PULL BACK to reveal that he's in the City Morgue.  

A drawer is being closed and there is a glimpse of a cadaver that could very
well be Moo-Moo's (we see a red hairnet). 

The Commissioner is talking to Beatle who sits in a wheelchair with his man, 
Donald, standing behind him. Beatle's ears are bandaged. 

				COMMISSIONER
		As a citizen, you are required by law to aid 
		us in this identification... Is this 
		Sweetback's body?

A long pause.

				BEATLE
			(weakly)
		I ain't learned to read lips yet.

Deadpan, Donald translates for the Commissioner.

				DONALD 
		He lost his hearing. He ain't able to read lips 
		yet.

The Commissioner writes the question out: IS THIS SWEETBACK? A drawer is 
opened and Beatle is wheeled over to it. Everyone in the room looks into the 
drawer: cops, Donald, Beatle, the Commissioner. Beatle smiles. It's the black 
guy who was on the motorcycle, hands folded across his belly, his helmet at 
his feet.

					CUT TO:

MONTAGE - STREETS - LOOKING FOR SWEETBACK - DAY 

Wino in skid row with a bottle. He never heard of no Sweetback. VARIOUS SHOTS 
of the inner city: bridges, roads, overpasses, Sweetback running, trains, a 
cop, Sweetback in a phone booth, cop cars squealing round corners, cops 
peering into shop windows, a guy fileting a fish, dogs barking, street 
sweeper, people waiting for a bus, etc., INTERCUT with ghetto folks caught up 
in the manhunt.

				GHETTO FOLKS 
		1. I told you one time I ain't seen 
		Sweetback... Never heard of him ... What else 
		do he go by? 

		2. I'm positive I've never seen him... 

		3. Huh? Yeah? Thank you.
 
		4. I've been looking for him myself.

		5. I don't know no Sweetback!

		6. I ain't saw Sweetback.
 
		7. I haven't seen him.

					CUT TO:

WOMAN AT HOME WITH KIDS

In a dirty basement, a woman is cracking string beans into a beat-up pot and 
filthy, half-naked children crawl around in the mess. She just keeps these 
kids for the county. After they get so bad or so grown, the county just takes 
'em away. She's never had a Sweetback but she might have had a Leroy once but 
she can't rightly remember.  

				WOMAN
		I just keep these kids for the county and make 
		these things for the old people... like this. 
		Isn't that pretty? 

She holds up a bottle, a rolled up ball of tinfoil, etc. We INTERCUT this 
woman talking with views of construction sites, ROAD CLOSED signs, an 
overpass, an unfinished bridge, the faces of the children, a guy sitting on a 
sidewalk, etc.

				WOMAN
		Ain't they pretty? But when the kids get so 
		grown and so bad, it takes them away from me... 
		I might have had a Leroy once, but I don't 
		rightly remember. They get so bad and so 
		grown... I might have had a Leroy once, but I 
		don't remember... Make these things for older 
		people and these kids for the county. It jest 
		takes 'em away from me. I might have had a 
		Leroy once, but I can't rightly remember. When 
		the kids get bad and older, they usually take 
		them away from me. I might have had a Leroy, 
		but I don't rightly remember... When the kids 
		get older and bad, they usually take them away 
		from me...I might have had a Leroy. When the 
		kids get older and bad, they usually take them 
		away from me, jest takes 'em away from me. I 
		might have had a Leroy once, but I can't 
		rightly remember...

					CUT TO:

EXT. BRIDGE - SWEETBACK RUNNING - DAY

A uniformed cop chases our hero. The cop draws a rifle and FIRES. Sweetback 
crashes into a wooden frame and dangles from it over the edge of the bridge. 
Sweetback sees the cop lining up a second shot, looks down at the long drop 
below him, and lets go of the wooden frame.

				SWEETBACK
		Fuck!

He drops who knows how far -- and lands unhurt. The cop, rifle in hand,
approaches the wooden frame and peers over the edge but fails to see
Sweetback, just a railroad track stretching off into the distance.
Disappointed, the cop primes his rifle and runs off.

					CUT TO:
 
STREETS - POLICE QUESTIONING

				GHETTO FOLK
		No! Other people I don't give a damn about...
		I don't know nobody but my own Goddamn self...

					CUT TO:

SWEETBACK WALKING - TWILIGHT 

Sweetback walks into a parking lot at dusk.

					CUT TO:

INT. FUNKY NIGHTCLUB - ON STAGE - NIGHT 

Colored lights. A savage-faced, blonde-wigged black woman with an awful lot 
of eye shadow yells into a microphone.

INT. NIGHTCLUB DRESSING ROOM

A funky dressing room where you can almost smell the armpits and hair grease. 
A balding old plainclothesman sits quietly across from the woman who stands 
-- she's been out of trade for years and off the stuff, swear to God.

				SINGER
		No, I haven't seen Sweetback. I haven't seen 
		him in a long time... look, I don't, I don't 
		see the cat. If I never see him, it won't be 
		too soon for me, you understand? You understand, 
		man?... I haven't seen the cat and I don't want 
		to see him. You just keep leaning and leaning 
		and leaning, get the fuck off o' my back, man! 
		I'm, I'm clean, man, look, I'm clean...

The woman gets hysterical and shows off her bare arms -- there ain't no 
marks, right? She shoves an arm across the cop's face but he doesn't flinch. 
He just silently smokes a cigarette through the entire rant.

				SINGER
		There's nothing there, look, look. When I get 
		pissed off, man, I will throw a natural-born 
		nigger fit on you, understand, so why don't you 
		leave? Why don't you leave? I am clean, 
		look... Nothing, nothing. No place, man. I'm 
		clean, so stop leaning on me. I ain't on the 
		street no more, understand? I ain't in the 
		trade no more. I just want to be left alone, 
		baby. So don't push me. You're pushing my 
		button, baby! You're pushing my button! Leave!
		Split! Leave, mother fucker!
 
Without a word, the cop leaves.

				SINGER
		Sweetback, man, shit!

We glimpse parts of her dressing room as she pulls off her blonde wig and 
laughs insanely. Finally, leaning against the wall and clutching her wig to 
her belly, she roars with laughter.
 
ON STAGE

The savage-faced woman screaming into the mike again, colored lights flashing 
behind her.
 
				SINGER
			(singing, sort of)
		I love you, I love you, I love you!

She stops singing.

Outside somewhere, a flashing neon light says: O.K.

					CUT TO:

EXT. A BRIEF TRANSITION - NIGHT 

Cars going down a highway. Sweetback walking. A guy cleaning a window.

					CUT TO:

INT. COMMISSIONER'S OFFICE - NIGHT 

The Commissioner is obsessed and screaming into the CAMERA.

   				COMMISSIONER
		Fuck the reporters! 
			(turns to some cops)
		I know they're out there! 

He points to a map of Southern California and puts his finger on Mexico. 

   				COMMISSIONER
		Now look, this guy's got one chance. 
			(points to a wall map)
		Right	here! Now let's get him.

[NOTE: That's Sweetback only prayer so he's got to try for it. In the old 
seat of the pants flying days pilots would fly down from up at the State 
capitol in Sacramento all the way to Ensenada in Baja, Mexico without a map 
just using the railroad as a running landmark. Even from 500 feet up it stuck 
out like a sore thumb, but now sometimes at five yards the tracks are 
unnoticeable; in the city overpowered by freeways and cars and skyscrapers, 
in the country weather-beaten right back into the landscape, rotting ties and 
waiting stations crumbled into genteel dilapidation. But anyway, rusting and 
maybe not so shiny anymore, the rails are still there, pointing the way to 
Mexico.]

					CUT TO:

Among other brief TRACKING SHOTS, we get some lovely AERIAL VIEWS of 
Sweetback, spread-eagled atop the roof of a moving vehicle, perhaps a van or 
truck.

					CUT TO:

CITY STREETS - POLICE QUESTIONING

Sweetback running out in the open, following those all-important railroad 
tracks, INTERCUT with seemingly random SHOTS of the city, an ambulance, and a 
few ghetto dwellers responding to police inquiries.
 
				GHETTO DWELLER
		No, no, I haven't seem him. Sweetback? No, 
		I haven't, I haven't seen him... 
			(cop gives him a photo)
		Thank you, but I haven't seen him. 

One black guy, wearing a neck brace and trying to unlock a car with a coat 
hanger, spins to face the police. 

				MR. NECK BRACE
		I haven't seen him.

He stares uncertainly at the cops for a moment and then moves away.

					CUT TO:

OUTSKIRTS OF CITY - SWEETBACK RUNNING

Sweetback running down the track, beneath power lines, past crossing guards, 
a sign reading KEEP OUT, etc.

An unseen chorus of COLORED BOURGEOIS ANGELS sings to Sweetback.

				CHORUS OF COLORED BOURGEOIS ANGELS
		they bled your Mama 
		they bled your Papa
 
				SWEETBACK 
		but they won't bleed me 
		niggers scared and pretend they don't see
 
				COLORED ANGELS 
		just like you Sweetback
 
				SWEETBACK 
		just like I used to be 
		work your black behind to the gums 
		and you supposed to Thomas til he done

Exhausted, Sweetback drops to all fours by the track.
 
				COLORED ANGELS
		you got to Thomas, Sweetback 
		they bled your brother 
		they bled your sister
 
				SWEETBACK 
		yeah but he won't bleed me

Sweetback struggles to his feet, scrambling down the railroad track. He looks 
over his shoulder and his look becomes...

SWEETBACK'S VISION

A black guy shining shoes. He puts the polish on and then turns around and 
wipes the toes with his ass. The shoe shine customer, a white guy in cool 
shades, grins merrily. The shoe shine guy grins, too. 

DESERT - DAY 

A helicopter flies over and spots a lone figure running through the sagebrush.
We recognize Sweetback's clothes even at this height.

A police car has been notified and it speeds into view, it's siren WAILING.

Up ahead, a bearded young white guy whom we shall call GEEZER, wearing 
Sweetback's clothes, stops running and looks over his shoulder at the 
oncoming cop car. He looks up at the helicopter pursuing him and keeps on 
running.

Geezer's dog trails behind him. So does the cop car. Microphone in hand, the 
Sheriff at the wheel watches Geezer run.

Geezer squats down in the sage and sand, patting his dog. The Sheriff signals 
to the helicopter that all is under control. The Sheriff questions Geezer who 
has his boot off, massaging a sore foot.

				COP
		Alright, now why'd you run?
 
				GEEZER
		Why'd I run?
 
				COP
		Uh huh.
 
				GEEZER
		I ran cause I gave my word I'd run. 

				COP
		Gave what word?
 
				GEEZER
		I promised to run.
 
				COP
		You promised who, what?

				GEEZER
		This guy gave me five dollars to change duds 
		with him... Told me if anybody come after me 
		just, uh, keep on running.
 
				COP
		Was he a black guy? 

				GEEZER
		Yeah ... colored. 

				COP
		What'd he look like?
 
				GEEZER
		Like a buddy I used to pal around with back in 
		Denver.
 
				COP
		Now would you say he was about this tall? 
		Around this size?

				GEEZER
 		Yeah, about like that.

				COP
		What was he doin'?
 
				GEEZER
		Poorly.

				COP
		You mean how he was doin'.

				GEEZER
		Yeah, poorly.

					CUT TO:

ELSEWHERE IN THE DESERT 

Now dressed in Geezer's duds and clutching his side in pain, Sweetback keeps 
running. The invisible colored angels keep singing. They sing a few lines of 
"By and By" as Sweetback collapses to the ground and lies on his back.

				COLORED ANGELS
		progress, Sweetback
 
				SWEETBACK 
		that's what he want you to believe

				COLORED ANGELS
		no! 
		progress, Sweetback
 
				SWEETBACK
		he ain't stopped clubbing you for four hundred
 		years...And he don't intend to for a million
 
				COLORED ANGELES
		he sure treat us bad, Sweetback
 
				SWEETBACK
		we can make him do us better
 
				COLORED ANGELS 
		chicken ain't nothing but a bird 
		white man ain't nothing but a turd 
		nigger ain't shit 

Meanwhile the angels sing "Wade in the Water" ... as Sweetback gets to his 
feet, winces horribly, and inspects his side: it's a bloody mess. Apparently, 
the cop who got off the rifle shot managed to wound our hero.
 
				SWEETBACK
 		get my hand on a trigger
 
				COLORED ANGELES
		you talking revolution, Sweetback
 
				SWEETBACK
		I want to get off these knees

				COLORED ANGELS
		you talking revolution, Sweetback
 
				SWEETBACK
		somebody listen to me
 
				COLORED ANGELS
		if he can't burn you out 
		he'll stomp you out
 
				SWEETBACK
		he won't waste me

				COLORED ANGELS
		let it shine 
		let it shine 
		let it shine

Sweetback unzips his fly, urinates in the sand, takes a clump of the wet 
sand, puts it into a makeshift bandage made of torn white cloth, and straps 
it to his wound.

				COLORED ANGELS
		he bopped your Mama 
		he bopped your Papa

				SWEETBACK
		but he won't waste me

Sweetback tries to get moving again.
 
				COLORED ANGELS
		you can't make it on wings, wheels or steel, 
		Sweetback

 				SWEETBACK
		we got feet  
 
				COLORED ANGELS
		you can't get away on wings, wheels or steel, 
		Sweetback
 
				SWEETBACK
		niggers got feet

But Sweetback collapses and lies on his back in the sand.
 
				COLORED ANGELS
		they bled your brother 
		they bled your sister
 
A LITTLE LATER

The hot sun burns down on our prostrate hero. The desert wind blows sand over 
him.

				SWEETBACK
		your brother and your sister too... how come it 
		took me so long to see... how he gets us to use 
		each other...

				COLORED ANGELS
		niggers scared
 
				SWEETBACK
		we got to get it together...if he kick a 
		brother it gotta be like he's kicking your 
		mother

Sweetback gathers his strength, sits up, and inspects his wound which is 
healing nicely. Amazing the power of urine, n'est-ce pas? Sweetback rises and 
staggers off, heading for the horizon.
 
				COLORED ANGELS 
		he got your brother 
		don't let him get you 
		haul your black ass, Sweetback 
		he ain't gonna let you stand tall, Sweetback 
		the man knows everything, Sweetback 

The sun starts to descend behind a mountain.

				COLORED ANGELS 
		the man knows everything
 
				SWEETBACK
		then he oughta know I'm tired of him fucking 
		with me!
 
SWEETBACK ON THE RUN - FIELDS

Near a barbed wire fence, Sweetback hears dogs barking and crouches down. 
Irrigation sprinklers soak him. He watches farmers at work.
 
				COLORED ANGELS FINALLY 
				GETTING IT TOGETHER AND 
				ACTING BLACK
		run, Sweetback 
		run, mother fucker 
		they bled your sister

Sweetback gets up and runs.

					CUT TO:

EXT. HIGHWAY

Sweetback lounging inside of a huge, industrial-type cement drain pipe, one 
of three mounted on the back of a tractor trailer rumbling down the highway.
 
				SWEETBACK
		they won't bleed me

				BLACK ANGELS 
		run, Sweetback 
		run, mother fucker

					CUT TO:

EXT. LUNCH COUNTER

Sweetback sits outside a burger place eating a sandwich. He sees a cop car, 
rises, and moves off. There's a young white guy behind the counter with no 
customers to wait on. He looks around pointlessly and walks away.

[NOTE: Appears to be an Orange Julius. According to the menu, visible behind 
the counterman's shoulder, you can buy a Chili Dog for 45 cents, a Pickle 
Pooch for 35 cents, and a Julius Burger for 55 cents.]

					CUT TO:

EXT. TRUCK  

A pickup truck full of Mexican workers.  They sit in the truck bed. They 
stand up and talk. The truck turns off onto the shoulder of the road and 
stops. In the cab, the black driver taps on his rear window to signal 
Sweetback who jumps down from the bed. The Mexicans point off in the distance 
toward the mountains and everybody waves.

				MEXICANS
		Derecho, amigo ... Mexico 
		Cuidado.
		Mexico...straight ahead. 
		Vaya con Dios...

The truck pulls away. 

					CUT TO:

EXT. TRAIN

Sweetback jumps on a moving train.

				BLACK ANGELS
		they bled your Mama 
		they bled your brother 
		they bled your sister

SOME TIME LATER

Sweetback disembarks from the moving train and continues running, parallel to 
the tracks.
 
					CUT TO:

EXT. LUNCH COUNTER

Orange Julius again. The white guy behind the counter watches three fags 
sitting together as they're questioned by cops:

				GAY #1
 		No chile, I mean, officer, I didn't see Mr. 
		Sweetback.
 
				GAY #2 
		If you see him, send him here.
 
				GAY #1 
		I'm a militant queen.
 
				GAY #3
		Won't I do, officer?

The three laugh and sip their orange drinks through straws. The counterman 
emerges from behind his counter to clean up a bit and gives the fags a 
curious look. Straws in mouths, they respond by popping their eyes wide and 
ogling him en masse.

					CUT TO:
 
IN THE DESERT - DAY 

Sweetback, dirty and on his knees, stares down at a tiny, muddy puddle of 
water. He leans down and puts his face in it to wash off the filth. While 
he's at it, he takes a drink. He gets up again, partway, but sinks down for 
another mouthful or so. Finally, he gets to his feet and moves slowly but 
with increasing speed for the horizon.

The sun beats down wickedly. Sweetback keeps on keeping on but his sanity 
seems to be going. Visions of cars, trucks, helicopters, trailers, trains, 
cycles, even an airplane -- plus lots of TRACKING SHOTS from same. And he 
hears voices:

		1. Anybody can tell you that don't add up to a
		dollar, that adds up to a dollar and a dime... 
		2. Come on, stand up straight... what's the matter with you?
		3. Buy yourself a last supper, you're a dead man... 
		4. Your fight, man...What's it gonna be, 
		your choice, baby...

LATER

Sweetback, sitting under a tree, looks down, sees a lizard, and stomps on it 
with his boot. He whips out a switchblade and cuts the lizard's head off with 
a grimace, then munches on the body like a candy bar. Like a chewy candy bar. 
He closes his knife thoughtfully, rises, and continues on his way, leaving a 
few bloody bits of lizard behind. Couldn't taste any worse than a Pickle 
Pooch, right?

				BLACK ANGELS
		they bled your sister 
		they bled your brother

Sweetback heads slowly but with increasing speed toward the horizon.

					CUT TO:

EXT. ROAD

Students, mostly white, moving along a road. A sheriff's car surrounded by 
kids has had to slow down to a snail's pace -- it's a youth army heading for 
a rock festival.

EXT. ROCK CONCERT

Emerging from the car are two sheriffs deputies in uniform and a sheriff in 
civilian clothes. The cops converge on the area, passing in and out among the 
youths searching, searching.  A deputy runs over to the sheriff.

				DEPUTY
		I thought I saw Sweetback.
 
				SHERIFF
		Where?
 
The kids freak out listening a folk singer, to the disgusted bemusement of 
the other deputy. More police have arrived and they scour the crowd, looking 
for their man.

				SHERIFF
		You saw him?

				DEPUTY
		Over there in that clump of bushes.
 
				SHERIFF
		Sure it's him? 

They draw their guns, it sure looks suspicious: the bandstand is that-a-way 
and that black guy went the other way.  

 				DEPUTY
		If it ain't him, why was he goin' in the wrong 
		direction?
 
They sneak up on the bushes... they part the bushes and look down. All they 
see is a black guy and girl making love: she's on her back on the ground, 
he's on top. Looks like Sweetback's made another conquest. The cops begin to 
laugh.  

 				DEPUTY
		No wonder he was goin' the wrong way!

They holster their guns and walk off. They don't see the knife Sweetback is 
holding against the girl. The other deputy comes over to laugh at them and 
then walk away.

					CUT TO:

IN THE DESERT AGAIN

A helicopter flies over some windmills and sees nothing. Sweetback hides 
behind some sort of corrugated silo. 

					CUT TO:

EXT. COUNTRY ROAD 

Sweetback runs through the trees. A sheriff drives down a country road. He 
spots Sweetback who takes off running. The car does a U-turn and drives back 
slowly. Then the car throws itself in reverse and does another U-turn and 
resumes its original direction, this time in FAST MOTION.

EXT. HOUSE

Barking dogs chained up outside. The sheriff pulls up to the house, jumps 
out, runs to the front door and bangs on it. He and another white guy (a dog 
trainer) run from the house to the kennels. The sheriff and the trainer run 
to the car with three vicious looking dogs in tow on guard leashes. The two 
men and the three dogs hop in the car.

EXT. WOODS 

Sweetback running. The sound of barking in the distance. Sweetback jumps into 
a gully and listens. 

				SWEETBACK
		Fuck!

The sky overhead is blue. Sweetback opens his switchblade, jumps out of the 
gully and starts running.

The two men and the dogs run... The trail is fresh and the dogs follow it 
with swift, deadly accuracy. 

				TRAINER
 		He's heading for the border!

Sweetback moves through the woods, accompanied by gospel voices.

				TRAINER
		He's going to get there before we do. 

The men and dogs are behind -- but not close enough behind.

				TRAINER
		He's gonna get across the border before we can 
		catch him. He's gonna get there before we do.
 
				SHERIFF 
		Goddamn dogs.

				TRAINER 
		Dogs movin' faster than we are.

Sweetback, switchblade in hand, runs through a field.

				SHERIFF
		Just let me draw a bead on his black ass and 
		he's dead.
 
				TRAINER
		He's further ahead than that.
 
				SHERIFF 
		Just one Goddamn glimpse of his black ass and 
		he's dead.
 
				TRAINER
		He's gonna make it.
 
				SHERIFF
		Let the dogs go!
 
				TRAINER
		No, I won't do it.

				SHERIFF 
		Let the dogs go!

				TRAINER
		I won't!

				SHERIFF
		God damn it!
 
 				TRAINER
		I won't do it!
 
The sheriff and the trainer begin to struggle... one of the dogs breaks loose 
and shoots off, his leash behind him. The men fall and roll over and another 
dog breaks away...

 				SHERIFF 
		Let the dogs loose. They got four legs, we only 
		got two.
 
				TRAINER 
		I won't do it, they'll tear him apart.
 
				SHERIFF
		Turn loose of those dogs.
 
				BLACK ANGELS
		they bled your Mama 
		they bled your Papa 
		they bled your brother
 
Finally, they stop struggling. The dogs are loose. It's too late to stop them.

				SHERIFF
 		Sorry, no hard feelings, I just had to catch 
		him.
 
He puts out his hand to shake.  

				TRAINER
		Well, what's done is done. I guess it'll save 
		the taxpayers some money.

He pats the last dog. They laugh. 

 				BLACK ANGELS
		they bled your sister

After a pause:

				SHERIFF 
		Listen, no barking. 

				TRAINER
			(nods) 
		Yep. 
			(to the last dog)
		Well, I guess there's no sense of you hanging 
		around here, Rinny. No use in you missing the 
		fun, Rinny. You go get in on it. Go on, boy...
 
... and he unfastens the last dog. Rinny runs off, barking.

By now, it's TWILIGHT. The sheriff and the trainer sigh and pick up their 
guns and walk slowly over to a place to sit down. They sit and listen to the 
dogs growling in the distance. The trainer shakes his head with a wry smile. 
The sheriff pats him on the back. The trainer chews on a weed. 

					DISSOLVE TO:

SOME TIME LATER

The sheriff and the trainer still sitting there as NIGHT has fallen.

Sweetback emerges from the bushes and walks off.

					DISSOLVE TO:

RIVER - FIRST DAWN 

A wide calm river. Rinny stands on the bank, whimpering. We PAN OVER TO a 
dead dog floating in the water, red with blood. Rinny dips his head in the 
water and drinks... rocks in the water are bloody. An enormous close up of 
dead dog's face half under water... we PULL BACK to see the whole body, lying 
in the shallows. The other dog's body floats and rolls over in the water.

In other words: The Man Tries Running His Usual Game But Sweetback's Jones Is 
So Strong He Wastes the Hounds (Yeah! Yeah! And Besides That Will Be Coming 
Back Takin' Names & Collecting Dues) ...

We PAN UP to the opposite bank and up to the hills in the distance... and 
instead of The End the words WATCH OUT burst on the screen, followed by: 

		A BAAD ASSSSS NIGGER IS COMING BACK 
			TO COLLECT SOME DUES....

					DISSOLVE TO:

TWO VIEWS of Sweetback, one from the rear, and one of him running.

END CREDITS