You'd think he'd have a better poker face after his years in the game. He's doing the nervous look over and all that shit. If you can't hold it in make sure you're back is facing the seller. C'mon man, this is 101 level shit!
I watched this scene on the DVD and was having deja vu. It took me like, 30 minutes to realize that this scene was in the book and that's where I had heard/read it before. That fucked with me for a minute.
If I recall from the commentary, they just thought it ran too long and didn't add to the overall narrative. In the movie though, he does get a phone call to go check out the collection but we never see that followed up.
Wow!! I had never seen that scene before but i read it in the book and it always stuck out in my mind....was actually talking to my boy about it less than a month ago and asking as to whether there was any sort of code you guys adhere to!!
Call it corny or whatever, but in the book it had a lot to do with his spiritual renewal and his' feeling good again about owning a record shop. That's why I always wondered why it was left out of the movie...
Call it corny or whatever, but in the book it had a lot to do with his spiritual renewal and his' feeling good again about owning a record shop. That's why I always wondered why it was left out of the movie...
Exactly. Dude was goin thru some shit and still didnt want too underpay for that stash.
This is how that scene read in the original script. I think they improved on it for the actual shooting scene, especially the Sex Pistols bit at the end.
EXT./INT. FANCY LINCOLN PARK TOWNHOUSE - DAY
Rob mounts the stairs and rings the doorbell. The door opens, revealing a too-tan WOMAN in her late forties, in designer jeans and a T-shirt bearing a rhinestone peace sign. She says nothing.
ROB Hi. You called about the records?
She turns and walks into the house, leaving the door open for him. He follows her in and through a fabulous first floor, packed with big-bucks bourgeois: Rugs, art, and antiques:
She ushers Rob into a large study, and turns the light on. He misses a breath. The walls are lined with mahogany cases custom-built for CDs, albums, epicurean stereo components, a couple priceless vintage guitars -- every one of the thousands of items bear a little numbered sticker, like a museum. She points to several boxes on the floor, full of hundreds of singles.
WOMAN Those.
Rob steps into the room like an Undeserving, and carefully drops to his knees to examine the singles, each pristine in a plastic sleeve: the original God Save the Queen by the Sex Pistols, original Otis Reddings, Elvis Presleys, James Browns, Jerry Lee Lewises, Beatles... on and on. The mother lode. Rob is doing the best to control the onset of hyperventilation. He dares a glance over his shoulder to her to see if this is a joke.
WOMAN (CONT'D) What do you think?
ROB It's the best collection I've ever seen.
WOMAN Give me fifty bucks and they're all yours.
Rob's face goes funny. He looks around for a hidden camera.
ROB These are worth at least, I don't know --
WOMAN I know what they're worth. Give me fifty and get them out.
ROB But you must have --
WOMAN I must have nothing. Their my husband's.
ROB And you must not be getting along too well right now, huh?
WOMAN He's in Jamaica with a twenty- three-year-old. A friend of my daughter's. He had the Frickin' nerve to call me and ask me to borrow some money and I told him to fuck off, so he asked me to sell his singles collection and send him a check for whatever I go, minus a ten percent commission. Which reminds me. Can you make sure you give me a five? I want to frame it and put it on the wall.
ROB It must have taken him a long time to get them together.
WOMAN Years. This collection is as close as he's ever come to an achievement.
Rob looks back at the records but avoids the trance.
ROB Look. Can I pay you properly? You don't have to tell him what you got. Send him forty-five bucks and blow the rest. Give it to charity. Or something.
WOMAN That wasn't part of the deal. I want to be poisonous but fair.
ROB (looking back at the records) Look... I... I'm sorry. I don't want to be any part of this.
WOMAN Suit yourself. There are plenty of others who will.
ROB That's why I'm trying to compromise. What about fifteen-hundred? They're worth five times that.
WOMAN Sixty.
ROB Thirteen hundred.
WOMAN Seventy-five.
ROB Eleven-hundred. That's my lowest offer.
WOMAN And I won't take a penny over ninety.
They start smiling at each other.
WOMAN (CONT'D) With eleven hundred he could come home, and that's the last thing I want.
ROB I'm sorry but I think you better talk to someone else.
WOMAN Fine.
Rob half stands, then drops again for one last lingering look.
ROB Can I buy this Otis Redding single off you?
WOMAN Sure. Ten cents.
ROB Oh, come on! Let me give you ten dollars for this, and you can give the rest away for all I care.
WOMAN Okay. Because you took the trouble to come up here. And because you've got principles. But that's it. I'm not selling them to you one by one.
CUT TO:
EXT. FANCY LINCOLN PARK TOWNHOUSE - DAY
Rob comes down the stairs holding his single, and walks down the street talking to camera.
ROB How come I end up siding with the bad guy, the man who ran off to Jamaica with some nymphette? I just got left for someone else, so why can't I bring myself to feel whatever it is his wife is feeling? All I can see is that guy's face when he gets that pathetic check in the mail for those records, and I can't help but feel desperately, painfully sorry for him.
Here's the thing, I loved the book but I've never been to the UK so I have no idea how true it is in describing the record shop scene. I know from the time I've spent in record shops here stateside that the only other person that could've worked for the role is a fat, asscrack revealing, greasy face, chud under the fingernails, confederate flag sticker, cigar smoking, ill-shaven facial hair, halitosis stench quite-possibly-psychopathic-with-bodies-in-the-basement shop owner and that isn't exactly going to sell tickets. I thought they really nailed all three characters that work at the shop.
As far as the movie was concerned, naw, I think he was spot-on.
I never read Hornby's OG so I can't say if the casting made sense with that.
I read the book first. It's been a while but when the film was announced I was shaking my head. I guess he works but he's not who I envisioned. And if you're wondering, no, I don't know who would be more fitting.
You haven't spent much time in Lincoln Park have you?
The patently unrealistic part is the idea that he would have left the singles behind. I mean, dude's a collector and runs a record store. He's going to pass up the motherlode? Yeah, I don't think so.
I read the book first & loved it, but I like the movie even better, The shift from UK to US works so much better & I think the casting was spot on. I can't enjoy the book as much anymore because shifting it back to th UK just seems wrong now.
You haven't spent much time in Lincoln Park have you?
The patently unrealistic part is the idea that he would have left the singles behind. I mean, dude's a collector and runs a record store. He's going to pass up the motherlode? Yeah, I don't think so.
Yeah, I was nearly screaming out loud when I read the book "this is your chance dude, don't be an idiot"!!!!
Yeah, sorry, but that's bullshit. If he were any sort of man he'd scoop up the records, make a play for the LP's and try and hit the scorned wife (who does indeed get better with age!).
Here's the thing, I loved the book but I've never been to the UK so I have no idea how true it is in describing the record shop scene. I know from the time I've spent in record shops here stateside that the only other person that could've worked for the role is a fat, asscrack revealing, greasy face, chud under the fingernails, confederate flag sticker, cigar smoking, ill-shaven facial hair, halitosis stench quite-possibly-psychopathic-with-bodies-in-the-basement shop owner and that isn't exactly going to sell tickets. I thought they really nailed all three characters that work at the shop.
Yeah, they could have made the record store owner a stone-cold psychopath who is quite lacking in the looks department, but for obvious reasons they couldn't give him a girlfriend and make us believe it.
As I've probably said before on the Strut, making Hi-Fi's lead character a reasonably decent-looking man with a love life was an encouraging sign. They could have done like Ghost World and made him King Of The Sexless Nerds like Seymour and his soul buddies, but they didn't go there.
As far as Beverly D'Angelo...I was at an art show opening last night and the women definitely fit D'Angelo's profile, the older woman in her forties/fifties who still had almighty, unquestioned sex appeal. I just wish they had followed through with the original script idea and had her wear tighter clothing...
Comments
This could be a great direct marketing tag line.
"Pissed at you no good husband, sell his records to me."
I'm saying! There's no "collector's code"! You Frickin' take the box and dance on your way out.
And yeah, offer $10 for the LPs.
Sayin. I would hit that two times.
You'd think he'd have a better poker face after his years in the game. He's doing the nervous look over and all that shit. If you can't hold it in make sure you're back is facing the seller. C'mon man, this is 101 level shit!
I watched this scene on the DVD and was having deja vu. It took me like, 30 minutes to realize that this scene was in the book and that's where I had heard/read it before. That fucked with me for a minute.
Always wondered why they cut it.
Exactly. Dude was goin thru some shit and still didnt want too underpay for that stash.
Dumbass.
It sets the mood
...but it doesn't look like either the Virgin or A&M versions of the single.
As far as the movie was concerned, naw, I think he was spot-on.
I never read Hornby's OG so I can't say if the casting made sense with that.
EXT./INT. FANCY LINCOLN PARK TOWNHOUSE - DAY
Rob mounts the stairs and rings the doorbell. The door
opens, revealing a too-tan WOMAN in her late forties, in
designer jeans and a T-shirt bearing a rhinestone peace sign.
She says nothing.
ROB
Hi. You called about the records?
She turns and walks into the house, leaving the door open
for him. He follows her in and through a fabulous first
floor, packed with big-bucks bourgeois: Rugs, art, and
antiques:
She ushers Rob into a large study, and turns the light on.
He misses a breath. The walls are lined with mahogany cases
custom-built for CDs, albums, epicurean stereo components, a
couple priceless vintage guitars -- every one of the
thousands of items bear a little numbered sticker, like a
museum. She points to several boxes on the floor, full of
hundreds of singles.
WOMAN
Those.
Rob steps into the room like an Undeserving, and carefully
drops to his knees to examine the singles, each pristine in
a plastic sleeve: the original God Save the Queen by the Sex
Pistols, original Otis Reddings, Elvis Presleys, James
Browns, Jerry Lee Lewises, Beatles... on and on. The mother
lode. Rob is doing the best to control the onset of
hyperventilation. He dares a glance over his shoulder to
her to see if this is a joke.
WOMAN (CONT'D)
What do you think?
ROB
It's the best collection I've ever
seen.
WOMAN
Give me fifty bucks and they're all
yours.
Rob's face goes funny. He looks around for a hidden camera.
ROB
These are worth at least, I don't
know --
WOMAN
I know what they're worth. Give me
fifty and get them out.
ROB
But you must have --
WOMAN
I must have nothing. Their my
husband's.
ROB
And you must not be getting along
too well right now, huh?
WOMAN
He's in Jamaica with a twenty-
three-year-old. A friend of my
daughter's. He had the Frickin'
nerve to call me and ask me to
borrow some money and I told him to
fuck off, so he asked me to sell
his singles collection and send him
a check for whatever I go, minus a
ten percent commission. Which
reminds me. Can you make sure you
give me a five? I want to frame it
and put it on the wall.
ROB
It must have taken him a long time
to get them together.
WOMAN
Years. This collection is as close
as he's ever come to an achievement.
Rob looks back at the records but avoids the trance.
ROB
Look. Can I pay you properly? You
don't have to tell him what you got.
Send him forty-five bucks and blow
the rest. Give it to charity. Or
something.
WOMAN
That wasn't part of the deal. I
want to be poisonous but fair.
ROB
(looking back at the records)
Look... I... I'm sorry. I don't
want to be any part of this.
WOMAN
Suit yourself. There are plenty of
others who will.
ROB
That's why I'm trying to compromise.
What about fifteen-hundred? They're
worth five times that.
WOMAN
Sixty.
ROB
Thirteen hundred.
WOMAN
Seventy-five.
ROB
Eleven-hundred. That's my lowest
offer.
WOMAN
And I won't take a penny over ninety.
They start smiling at each other.
WOMAN (CONT'D)
With eleven hundred he could come
home, and that's the last thing I
want.
ROB
I'm sorry but I think you better
talk to someone else.
WOMAN
Fine.
Rob half stands, then drops again for one last lingering look.
ROB
Can I buy this Otis Redding single
off you?
WOMAN
Sure. Ten cents.
ROB
Oh, come on! Let me give you ten
dollars for this, and you can give
the rest away for all I care.
WOMAN
Okay. Because you took the trouble
to come up here. And because
you've got principles. But that's
it. I'm not selling them to you
one by one.
CUT TO:
EXT. FANCY LINCOLN PARK TOWNHOUSE - DAY
Rob comes down the stairs holding his single, and walks down
the street talking to camera.
ROB
How come I end up siding with the
bad guy, the man who ran off to
Jamaica with some nymphette? I
just got left for someone else, so
why can't I bring myself to feel
whatever it is his wife is feeling?
All I can see is that guy's face
when he gets that pathetic check in
the mail for those records, and I
can't help but feel desperately,
painfully sorry for him.
You haven't spent much time in Lincoln Park have you?
I read the book first. It's been a while but when the film was announced I was shaking my head. I guess he works but he's not who I envisioned. And if you're wondering, no, I don't know who would be more fitting.
The patently unrealistic part is the idea that he would have left the singles behind. I mean, dude's a collector and runs a record store. He's going to pass up the motherlode? Yeah, I don't think so.
Great book/film though.
Yeah, they could have made the record store owner a stone-cold psychopath who is quite lacking in the looks department, but for obvious reasons they couldn't give him a girlfriend and make us believe it.
As I've probably said before on the Strut, making Hi-Fi's lead character a reasonably decent-looking man with a love life was an encouraging sign. They could have done like Ghost World and made him King Of The Sexless Nerds like Seymour and his soul buddies, but they didn't go there.
As far as Beverly D'Angelo...I was at an art show opening last night and the women definitely fit D'Angelo's profile, the older woman in her forties/fifties who still had almighty, unquestioned sex appeal. I just wish they had followed through with the original script idea and had her wear tighter clothing...
It had the boxed EMI logo on it. Looks like a reissue, because the OG EMI was tan & red.
What Otis Redding single is worth $200?
Maybe one of his pre-Volt sides like "Shout Bamalama"?