RAND: I am karma and I'm a bitch.
Can you play Hi8?
I want in. I can really help you go big with this thing.
You do want to go big with this thing, right?
Yes, I do.
MILTIE: You just worry about getting the tapes out.
All right? Leave the rest up to me.
My monologue... It's cut?
Just thought it was stronger. Wordless.
Drop more wedgie, please, Katie.
That's great.
Bless us with the body and soul of a child.
MAN: I don't care how big his dick is.
I can't show it to anybody without releases. Fuck off!
Nobody is ever getting rich off a celebrity sex tape. Okay?
What if we sold it somewhere that nobody could ever find us?
- A what site? - A website.
It's this thing on the computer. People will go to it.
They will order the tape directly from us.
(CHICAGO'S "25 OR 6 TO 4" PLAYING)
DOCTOR: That's the gestational sac.
That's the yolk sac.
- What's that? - That? That's the embryo.
That's your baby.
Dude.
Oh, my God!
Hey, little peanut. It's me, Mommy.
My God. That's in... That is in here!
- Nice to meet you. - This is...
See that flicker?
- No way. - Is that...
DOCTOR: The heartbeat.
That's a nice, steady beat.
- Is it healthy? It sounds healthy. - It's perfect.
It's like a little 4/4. The kicks are my heart.
(YELPS)
It is perfect.
Guess what, fuckers? I'm going to be a dad!
On purpose!
(ALL SCREAMING IN EXCITEMENT)
("YOU GET WHAT YOU GIVE" PLAYING)
Excuse me. Is Erica around?
Well, I don't know. Kitchen, maybe.
(WOMAN MOANING)
Erica around here?
WOMAN: Yeah, she's out there.
That the new one?
What are you doing here?
I actually came here looking for you.
What is that?
The 400 bucks I owe you.
For what?
For Thanksgiving '91. Carving knife, remember? The Urgent Care visit?
Oh. Shit. Yes. Wow.
Right. You don't have to do that.
I know, but I can. So, I did.
You can! You can?
Yeah.
You remember the thing I was alluding to at dinner the other night?
I do.
It's going well.
That's great, Rand.
- Like, very well. - That's great.
So does that mean that we can finally get divorced?
No.
I don't have enough for that yet. I have $400, not 8,000.
You enjoying it so far?
- Mmm? - The book.
Oh! I'm only like 30 pages in.
- Second favorite after Lestat. - Body Thief.
Body Thief, Queen of the Damned, close second.
Damned, I'll give you. Damned is up there.
You know, I have you to blame for this obsession.
Do you remember that day
- you showed up with that huge stack? - Yeah.
All of them.
How could I forget?
Well, I should go.
- Yeah. - Thank you for this.
No problem.
MAN: I'm down here in the Valley for a few days on a little scouting trip.
Crystal, let me ask you something.
How would you like to do porn, and not have to fuck disgusting, sweaty men?
How would you like to do porn and and not have to fuck anyone at all?
- There's my card. - "Internet Entertainment Group?"
- We're technology, slash... - Excuse me.
Did I hear you just mention the Internet?
I did.
- Rand Gauthier. - Seth Warshavsky.
Seattle. Let me guess. Web cams.
Very good. Yes.
They say it's the future of porn.
- And I would agree with them. - Yeah, personally, I'm not a believer.
- No? - No, the image quality is awful.
They take forever to load.
Well, I see.
Yeah. If I'm a guy looking to rub one out,
am I going to wait a half an hour for some choppy, grainy video to load
when I can just pop Backseat Bangers 5, which is a classic in the VCR.
I'm going to jack off in seconds. Also, if they ever actually
invent these 56k modems they keep talking about, the image quality,
it's not going to be nearly as good as a good old-fashioned VHS.
Well, you clearly know a lot about this stuff, so.
Yeah. You know, as a technophile and former porn star,
I am uniquely positioned to talk about this.
Well, I'm sorry to hear you think cyberporn's bullshit.
No, see, I don't. I actually think
technology has the power to revolutionize porn,
but I think you have to be smart about it.
Look, I can't get into specifics,
but I am currently harnessing the power of the Web
in a way that has never been done before.
Wow. Good for you, Dan.
Rand.
Good luck with your brilliant, world changing idea.
Dick.
TOMMY: Breakfast time!
Baby, it smells amazing.
TOMMY: Follow the smell.
- (TOMMY YELPS) - (PAM CHUCKLES)
You ready?
Can you tell what that is?
Fucking Mickey Mouse!
Cop a squat.
All right. I used a special whole grain batter,
a little extra nutrition for the peanut.
- Baby. - I'll get you some OJ.
- Delicious! - You're premium, baby, only the finest!
Shit!
- (PAM SIGHS) - You know what?
This is way too precious to leave out.
- I'll be back. - Wait, where are you going?
(SUSPENSEFUL MUSIC PLAYING)
The fuck?
TOMMY: An AK-47 FNC assault rifle,
nickel plated Colt Commander .45 mother-of-pearl grips,
a Rolex, a Cartier watch,
a pair of gold cufflinks
and this, like, big ass ruby and diamond cross.
What else?
A wedding bikini.
Yeah. White. God damn it!
A wedding bikini?
- White. - Anything else?
Tommy.
Hold on a second.
COP: We'll be right outside.
What's up?
The tape.
What tape?
You know, the tape.
- Oh. - Wait, wasn't in there?
Yes. Yes, I told you I was nervous
and then you said you put it in the safe.
Shit.
I think it was.
It was.
Oh, God.
You know what? Don't worry about it, baby.
- They're gonna get it all back. - Yeah.
They're gonna get it all back. Guys!
Actually, there was this one other thing.
Yeah?
- Like a tape. - A tape?
Like a videotape.
Like a movie?
- Kind of. Home movies. - Okay.
Yeah.
I...
I trust that this is going to be
a top priority case for you guys.
We'll keep our ears open if anything pops up,
but burglaries don't get solved that often.
Wait. So what you're saying is
you're not even gonna try to get our stuff back?
Sir, we're just trying to manage your expectations.
Somebody broke into our home
and took our shit, our own personal private shit.
The number of burglaries per day, it's up there.
- I don't care about other robberies! - Mr. Lee.
I care about mine. I pay more fucking taxes
that I could own your fucking precinct!
Mr. Lee, we're done here.
- Let you know if we find anything. - Really, dude?
Whatever.
Babe, there's fucking guns in there, jewelry.
I mean, who's going to bother with some stupid, unmarked tape?
I know, but if somebody plays that thing, Tommy.
Nobody's going to play it.
And they couldn't even if they wanted. its Hi8.
Who the fuck has Hi8?
Yeah.
God, I feel...
violated.
Don't you?
Violated?
Yeah, you don't?
I mean, I feel more... pissed.
We'll get it back.
- Hey. - Yeah.
I promise.
- We're gonna get it, all right? - Mm-hmm.
Fuck the police.
Fuck the police!
We'll get our own guy.
Wait. What do you mean?
What? Like a...
We get like a private investigator.
A PI. Exactly.
PAM: Yes, that's great. Who?
MAN: There's only two reasons to steal a safe.
Money and revenge.
Money. That's tough, that could be anybody.
So let's start with revenge.
Anybody you had beef with lately?
- Beef? - Anybody who hates you?
Maybe had a reason to get back at you?
No.
No, I don't think so.
What about you, Tommy?
Who's got beef with me?
Bret Michaels.
Axl Rose.
Blackie Lawless.
Lou Adler. Gene Simmons.
Fucking David Geffen.
- Okay. - Mickey Rourke.
Yeah, Richie Sambora. Jann Wenner, Bob Rock.
- Got it. - CC DeVille, John Stamos.
- John Stamos? - Fucking asshole.
Wow.
The police report says the surveillance footage was destroyed.
Anybody who had access to your security system where it is?
Just us.
- Just me and Pamela. - Right.
Who installed it?
Some dude. This fucking dipshit carpenter.
Dipshit carpenter?
Yes. He was working on our house.
Yeah, I canned his ass.
For what reason?
For the reason he was doing a shitty ass job,
so shitty I didn't even pay him.
What? You never paid him?
No.
PI: When was the last time you saw this guy?
Couple of days after I fired him.
And what were the circumstances?
He showed up trying to get his tools back.
Did you give them back?
Of course.
After coming into my house without permission? Fuck, no.
I almost smoked his ass.
What?
PI: Smoked his ass?
Yeah. I put a shottie in his face and said, "Get the fuck off my property."
Okay.
Let me do some digging here.
The rusted chains of prison moons
Are shattered by the sun
I walk a road, horizons change
The tournament's begun
...softly sings
- Hello? - Hi.
Where is the tape?
What?
- Where the fuck is the tape? - What tape?
You know what fucking tape.
I don't know what you're talking about, man.
Just tell me where it is, it'll make this a lot easier.
Am I getting warm? Am I warm? Am I warm?
I don't know, man!
Am I near?
What the fuck is this shit?
It's King Crimson, man.
It's a first pressing!
What I did to that record
I will do to your fat, stupid face.
No, dude, please. Please!
- I'm not gonna ask you again. - MAN: I'm gonna call the cops!
I'll do it, Rand, I'm calling the cops right now!
Good, call 'em! Fuck you!
- Shut your fucking... - Okay, I'm gonna call now!
(RAN COUGHING)
I'll be back. And you better have that fucking tape.
Fuck.
(PHONE RINGING)
- MILTIE: Hello? - Hey. Miltie, thank God you picked up.
I can't get to the phone right now.
Please leave a message and I'll get back to you.
Look, are you there?
Are you there, man?
Are you there?
If you're there, pick up, dude.
Please. I need to talk to you, man.
Fuck!
(GROANING IN PLEASURE)
- Hey, man. - Hey.
How's it going?
- Good and you? - Good.
- Two hundred of them there? - Your first.
Fuck, I got that shit.
You do?
Well, I ain't got the nice packaging, it's just the tape.
It showed up in the mail without the box?
I didn't get it mailed.
How did you get it?
No refunds, pal. No refunds.
Hey, check out the tape right here, everybody.
Pamela Anderson, right here. Triple X.
I got you. See you next time, huh?
That's what's up.
RAND: Hey. You.
Hey, what up, homie?
How much these puppies for?
Hey, for you, one for $30, two for $50.
Mind if I check them out?
Yeah, go ahead, bro.
It's nice, huh?
Good stocking stuffer.
What you're doing is wrong.
Excuse me?
These do not belong to you.
- All right, look, dude... - No, no.
You look, dude, you have no right to be selling these.
You are profiting off of somebody else's
considerable risk and labor, which is probably illegal,
but it's definitely unethical.
So unless you want a major problem on your hands,
you're gonna pack up your bootleg shit
and you're gonna get out of the Tower Records parking lot.
(LAUGHING) Shit.
You're fucking with me, right?
Ah, fuck. What are you, the porn police?
- Maybe I am. - Mr. Ethical.
Get the fuck out of here, dawg.
Enjoy it while it lasts. This whole operation's getting shut down, man.
Fuck your mom, sir.
Have a good day.
(GUY CONTINUES INDISTINCTLY)
Fuck!
It's him. Without a doubt.
- Fucking knew it. - Oh, my God.
Are you sure? How do you know?
One can tell these things.
My God. You're gonna get it back, right?
I'll pop in tomorrow.
You'll probably have it back by the weekend.
Oh, my God. Thank you so much, Mr. Pelcano.
We really fucking appreciate it, you have no idea.
It's fun.
- (BOTH LAUGH REJOICE) - Come here, baby.
Yeah! Yeah!
What did I tell you?
- I know. Yes. - Yes.
I got to go. I got a session with the boys.
I'll be back home around 8:00.
Yeah, but I'm shooting late tonight.
- Fuck. - Yeah.
I'm gonna miss you.
Oh, my God. Not as much as I'll miss you.
Eskimo kiss.
(CHANTING INDISTINCTLY)
(KNOCKING AT DOOR)
WOMAN: They're ready for you!
(SIGHS)
Coming.
(PAM EXCLAIMS)
- Let's do this. Hey, Evander. - Hey.
- How's it going? - Everything's good.
- Good weekend? - Yes, ma'am.
- Yeah? How are those kids of yours? - Putting them up for adoption.
Yeah, well, give them to me. Give them to me.
TOMMY ON TAPE: I love you, Pamela!
PAM ON TAPE: I love you, Tommy!
Fuck, you are so fine.
Tommy, when you gonna get me preggo?
Look at my beautiful fucking husband!
You're so fucking hot.
(PAM CHUCKLES ON TAPE)
- PAM: Baby, get it in. - Fuck!
TOMMY: I love you so much.
(CONTINUES ON TAPE)
MAN: Right on the drop, that's where you come in.
(INDISTINCT CHATTER)
(GUITAR PLAYING)
Fuck.
(INAUDIBLE)
Sorry, guys. Could you just give us a second?
WOMAN: Yeah, come on.
- Now, please. - Sorry.
Hey, what's up?
He's selling it.
Huh?
He's fucking selling it, Tommy.
One second.
It's our tape.
What the fuck?
Where'd you get this?
They were watching it on set.
I saw a bunch of camera guys
sitting around watching us have sex.
Holy shit.
Jesus.
Do you have any idea how humiliating it was?
Motherfucker.
I mean, how many copies of this are out there?
I mean, there could be dozens, hundreds.
What is this?
- What is what? - This. HTTP...
That's a website, they're making one for Barb Wire.
This is how he's selling this?
I don't know. I really don't get it.
Do we have a computer?
We have a computer. It's in the downstairs den,
but we don't have the Web.
It's this thing you plug your phone into.
Okay, so who has it?
Where do we get the Web?
- TOMMY: Sex tape... - PAM: Oh, my God.
Then period com.
"O" "M," enter.
What the...
What the hell is this?
- I've no fucking idea. - Oh, my God.
- Shit. - Come on, come on.
PAM: What are you doing?
I wanna see if there's a phone number.
There's not. I can't see any. There is no way to reach them.
Wait, look. Purchase.
Shall we click on it?
Enter.
TOMMY: Fuck.
Jesus.
Canada. What?
- He's in LA. - Yeah.
Well, maybe he's running it through Canada to avoid getting caught.
It's a co-operation.
It really is.
There's no way this guy's doing it by himself.
Dumbass couldn't mastermind ordering a pizza.
So who's helping him, then?
Milton Ingley.
Little local porn producer out of Van Nuys.
Rand did some features for him back in the day.
- Anal specialist. - Jesus.
Are you fucking kidding me?
How did you find this out?
I asked around.
Apparently they pitched it to half the Valley.
(GASPS)
- Hey. - Oh, my fucking God.
Jesus Christ!
(DOOR CLOSES)
Where the fuck do I find this guy?
The phone book.
MAN: Right up here.
Who the fuck is that?
Hey, Tommy.
(ENGINE REVVING)
Miltie.
Miltie, where the fuck are you, man?
- Miltie! - MAN: He just left.
Where did he go?
I don't know, man.
What are you doing?
Miltie asked me to help out.
You fucking... You know?
- About the tape? - Yeah.
Totally.
He said not to tell anybody.
I don't know, man.
Could you please get the door for me? Thank you.
MAN: Miltie.
- (KNOCKING AT DOOR) - Rand.
- Yo, what... - Motherfucker. Grab him.
- Yo. - Let's go have a little chat.
Fuck.
Take a seat.
- Tiny, is this him? - Nice to meet you, Rand.
Rand? No, that's not me. Rand just...
Shut up!
(KNOCKING AT DOOR)
Come on. Come on.
- Hey, Miltie. - Rand.
- Thank God. - What the fuck?
- Where the fuck have you been, dude? - Well, I've been working from home.
What's up?
Well, there's a lot up.
Okay, Tommy Lee? He's on to us, man.
Some fucking goomba PI
just showed up, he showed up at my apartment.
He beat the fuck out of me. He told me that if I didn't give him the tape
he's gonna fucking kill me.
And then a biker gang shows up at the studio
looking for us, man. And I get away,
but while I'm there, there's a guy at the studio,
he's working on the operation. You hired him. You didn't tell me.
You told me not to... Not to fucking tell anyone, man
And there's a guy
selling the fucking tape in the Tower Records parking lot.
Two for 50 bucks, man.
It's a good fucking deal!
That's it!
Us.
- What? - You said Looking for us.
Yeah.
Did you fucking rat me out, Rand?
No, no, of course not, dude, no!
But they mentioned me?
- Did they say my name? - Of course.
- They showed up at your studio, dude. - Do you think they followed you?
I don't fucking know. Can I come inside?
No, no, it's very messy. I really rather you not.
- My place is gross, I don't care. - How do they know I'm involved?
I have no idea. I don't know.
I don't know anything. I don't know.
Let's just... Rand, why don't you chill out.
Okay, okay.
Take it easy. Take it easy. I'm gonna need you to go back to the studio.
What?
The location is compromised.
Okay, baby?
What?
You're gonna need to clean everything out.
Clean out every last copy of that movie tape.
(CAR HONKS)
Why me?
You're Operations.
Everything's Operations.
He's gone!
Bunnies, come to the bunny patch.
(MUMBLING)
I'm so sorry. Where were we?
I am not your bunny.
What's up?
He's not here. Don't worry.
- He'll turn up eventually. - PAM: Tommy.
Baby, is that him?
He's not there.
That's not good enough.
Let me talk to him, put him on speaker.
- He's on it. Relax. - No. I will not relax.
- Mr. Pelcano. Hi. This is Pamela. - Hi, Pamela.
Yeah. You need to stop this guy from selling the tape now.
- This is urgent. - Hey, you're being crazy.
What? I'm not being crazy, you're being chill.
You're being way too chill.
Every second that passes, this tape could be spreading.
Baby, we will get it back, all right? Every last copy,
it's mail order, they know who they shipped to.
What about the people that they shipped it to made copies?
- Come on. - Just...
I got this, okay?
Let me handle it.
Yeah.
Okay, but you don't seem to understand what a big deal this is to me.
Like it's not a big deal to me?
I'm on that tape just the same as you.
But this is worse for me.
I mean, this is way worse.
How is this worse for you? Why?
'Cause of your big career? It's so much bigger than mine?
What? Tommy, it's not because of my big career,
it's because I'm a woman!
PI: I'm gonna let you guys talk...
Fuck.
Listen to me, okay?
People are going to think you're cool for this, all right?
They'll be high-fiving you in the street.
Me, I'm going to get looked at like a slut by the whole world.
- That's ridiculous. - It's not. It's true.
You don't know. You have no idea.
You never have to fucking deal with this stuff. You don't.
I'm on your side. I want to get rid of the tape just as much as you do.
And we will end this whole thing I'm telling you,
this will all be fine.
Besides, it's not like they're seeing anything they haven't seen before.
What did you say?
- I just... - What the fuck did you just say?
I'm sorry. That came out wrong.
- Oh, my God. Leave. - What?
- Leave this fucking room right now. - Pamela.
- Leave this fucking room right now! - Come on, Pamela.
Get the fuck out!
Fuck.
Fuck. Oh, man.
(BREATHING HEAVILY)
(WATER RUNNING)
(SIGHS)
Hey, Tommy.
Yeah, I feel fine now, Tommy.
You wanna check it out, you know, just make sure.
I'm telling you I'm good. I'm fine.
- Shit. - We're gonna be sure, okay?
Yeah, I know.
Fine, everything's fucking fine.
Yep, yep, yep.
(4 NON BLONDE'S "WHAT'S UP" PLAYING)
- (TIRES SCREECH) - (CAMERA SHUTTER CLICKING)
You did the right thing by coming in.
I feel much better now.
I'm sure it's nothing.
- Yeah. - Most likely everything's fine.
("WHAT'S UP" CONTINUES)
Should we call my mom?
I'm going to as soon as we get home.
- (CAMERA SHUTTERS CLICKING) - Hey, man, fuck off.
Get the fuck outta here. Come on, get the fuck out.
Hey, fuck off!
(PHONE RINGING)
(ANSWERING MACHINE) Hi, this is Rand Gauthier.
Please leave your number, I'll call you back. Thank you.
Hi, Rand. It's me. Miltie.
Listen, I just wanted to let you know
I'm going to pop on over to Amsterdam
for a few days.
Nothing to worry about.
Just want to make a few tweaks to the banking.
Keep the IR, you know what, off the scent.
Smart.
Anyway, I have no doubt you will hold down the fort
in my absence. Great job clearing out the studio.
All right, anyway...
(ENGINES REVVING)
("STARDUST" PLAYING)
(PANTING)
Come on. Come on, come on, come on.
Fuck. He's not here.
Would you like to see the cocktail menu?
I would love to.
(BANGING ON DOOR)
Hey, can I come in?
- Yeah. - Okay. Thank you.
(PAM CRYING)
Hey, Tommy! Give me a smile!
God-fucking-damn it!
You want a fucking picture? I'll give you a fucking picture!
- Fucking... (SCREAMING) - (GLASS BREAKING)
You fuck!
(GASPS)
(PAM SOBBING)
(STARDUST CONTINUES)