Great scene: “The Usual Suspects”
Aug 22, 2008 · 7 min read
The ‘big twist!’ Is there any movie ending more satisfying than a scene sequence where you realize the writer has totally played you, set you up to think one thing, then through the course of events in the scene, methodically let you in on the secret the writer has carefully crafted and kept to him/herself. One of the best ‘big twists’ in recent memory is in The Usual Suspects (1995). Written by Chris McQuarrie, the movie is a nifty crime noir story with an odd angle to it: the real or mythological crime lord Keyser Söze.
Here in the final sequence, Roger ‘Verbal’ Kint, a limping weakling played masterfully by Kevin Spacey, prepares to leave a lengthy interrogation with Dave Kujan (Chaz Palminteri), U.S. customs agent.
Kujan pulls the microphone out from under his tie and puts
it on the desk. Verbal actually manages to snort a laugh,
but only briefly, overcome by an apparent wave of nausea.KUJAN
You're not safe on your own.VERBAL
You think he's..?KUJAN
Is he Keyser Soze I don't know,
Verbal. It seems to me that Keyser
Soze is a shield. Like you said, a
spook story, but I know Keaton - and
someone out there is pulling strings
for you. Stay here and let us protect
you.VERBAL
I'm not bait. No way. I post today.KUJAN
You posted twenty minutes ago. Captain
Leo wants you out of here a.s.a.p.,
unless you turn state's.VERBAL
I'll take my chances, thank you.
It's tougher to buy the cheapest bag-
man than it is to buy a cop.KUJAN
Where are you going to go, Verbal?
You gonna run? Turn states evidence.
You might never see trial. If somebody
wants to get you, you know they'll
get you out there.VERBAL
Maybe so, but I'm no rat, Agent Kujan.
You tricked me, that's all. I won't
keep my mouth shut 'cause I'm scared.
I'll keep it shut 'cause I let Keaton
down by getting caught - Edie Finneran
too. And if they kill me, it's because
they'll hear I dropped dime. They'll
probably hear it from you.Verbal stands, mustering his shattered dignity and walks
towards the door. Rabin opens it for him from outside.For once Kujan cannot bring himself to look at Verbal. Verbal
turns to the door, stopping to look Rabin in the eye.VERBAL
Fuckin' cops.He steps out of the room and into the hall. Rabin follows
him.INT. HOSPITAL - DAYDaniel Metzheiser comes out of Arkosh Kovash's room with a
single sheet of 15x20 inch paper in his hand. He inspects
the sketch with great interest. He folds the edges of the
paper back to make it smaller.INT. HOSPITAL RECEPTION ROOMMetzheiser walks behind the reception desk without asking
the nurse for permission and helps himself to the fax machine.INT. DEPOT - LATERVerbal is downstairs in the depot of the police station
picking up his personal belongings.A FAT, WHITE-HAIRED COP is checking off the items as he takes
them out of the tray in which they are kept.COP
One watch: gold. One cigarette
lighter: gold. One wallet: brown.
One pack of cigarettes.Verbal collects his personal items and shuffles on his lame
leg toward the exit.INT. DISPATCHER'S OFFICEJack Baer stands by a fax machine. A green light comes on
next to a digital display.THE DISPLAY READS: RECEIVINGINT. RABIN'S OFFICEKujan stares solemnly at the bulletin board, drinking from
Rabin's coffee cup. Rabin sits at the desk, sifting through
the mound of gapers as though considering organizing them
once and for all.RABIN
You still don't know shit.KUJAN
I know what I wanted to know about
Keaton.RABIN
Which is shit.KUJAN
No matter. He'll have to know how
close we came.RABIN
Keyser Soze or not, if Keaton's alive
he'll never come up again.KUJAN
I'll find him.RABIN
Waste of time.KUJAN
(to himself)
A rumor is not a rumor that doesn't
die.RABIN
What?KUJAN
Nothing. Something I - forget it.Kujan shakes his head. He gestures to the desk.KUJAN
Man, you're a fucking slob.Rabin regards the mess of his office.RABIN
Yeah. It's got its own system though.
It all makes sense when you look at
it right. You just have to step back
from it, you know? You should see my
garage, now that's a horror show...Kujan is not listening. He has been staring at the bulletin
board, lost in thought, his unfocused eyes drifting across
the mess of papers, not looking at anything at all.EXT. STREETVerbal steps out into the sunlight, putting on a pair of
cheap sunglasses. He looks up and down the crowded street.People on their way to and from lunch, no doubt.Cars choke the street in front of the police department as
they wait for pedestrians to clear the way.INT. DISPATCHER'S OFFICEA single sheet of paper comes out of the fax machine, face
down.INT. RABIN'S OFFICEKujan still stares at the bulletin board.SUDDENLY, Kujan's face changes. He leans in closer to the
bulletin board and squints his eyes. His face changes again.First a look of puzzlement, then confusion - finally
realization.The coffee cup tumbles from his hand. It hits the floor with
the SMASH of cheap porcelain. Coffee splatters everywhere.Rabin snaps out of his droning and looks up in surprise.KUJAN'S P.O.V.Kujan is staring not at what is on the bulletin board, but
at the bulletin board itself.His eyes follow the aluminum frame, mounted firmly to the
wall. One might note it's sturdy construction and it's
convenient size. Big enough to hold a lifetime of forgotten
and disregarded notes and facts. Years of police trivia that
has been hung and forgotten with the intention of finding a
use for it all someday. One might want such a bulletin board
for one's self. One would look to see who makes such a
bulletin board.Kujan's eyes are locked on a metal plate bearing the
manufacturer's name.It reads: QUARTET - SKOKIE, ILLINOIS Kujan's eyes flash all
over the bulletin board. He finds a picture of Rabin in the
far corner.He stands beside a scale in fishing gear. He proudly holds a
hand out to his freshly caught marlin. His eyes skim quickly
over and stop on an eight and a half by eleven inch fax sheet
of what must be a THREE HUNDRED POUND BLACK MAN. Kujan glazes
over his name, it is irrelevant. His aliases stand out.Slavin, BRICKS, Shank, REDFOOT, Thee, Rooster...KUJAN'S EYES WIDEN with sudden realization. He runs for the
door.His foot crushes the broken pieces of Rabin's coffee cup.
The cup that hovered over Verbal's head for two hours.Kujan is in too much of a hurry to notice the two words
printed on the jagged piece that had been the bottom of the
cheap mug.KOBAYASHI PORCELAIN.EXT. HALLWAYKujan is sprinting wildly down the hall for the stairs.EXT. STREETVerbal looks behind him and sees ANOTHER COP standing just
inside the doorway, lighting a cigarette. The cop notices
Verbal and watches him in the way that cops look at people
they cannot place in the category of idiot citizen, or stupid
criminal.Verbal smiles politely, meekly at the cop and walks down the
steps into the moving throng.INT. DEPOTKujan runs up to the desk where Verbal had only moments before
picked up his belongings. Rabin is right behind him, a look
of absolute confusion on his face.KUJAN
WHERE IS HE? DID YOU SEE HIM?COP
The Cripple? He went that way.The cog gestures towards the door.Kujan runs outside looking around frantically.EXT. SIDEWALKVerbal limps his way carefully across the sidewalk, avoiding
people as best as he can.He looks over his shoulder, getting farther away from the
police station. He can see Rabin and the cop on the steps,
looking around with strange, lost expressions on their faces.He does not notice the car creeping along the curb beside
him.INT. CARDRIVER'S P.O.V.The driver's hands tap the wheel patiently. His eyes follow
Verbal as he fumbles through the crowd.EXT. SIDEWALKKujan pushes and shoves, looking this way and that.EXT. STREETLOW ANGLE on the feet of dozens of people. Verbal's feet
emerge from the crowd on the far side. They hobble along the
curb.SUDDENLY, the right foot seems to relax a little, the inward
angle straightens itself out in a few paces and the limp
ceases as though the leg has grown another inch.CRANE UP VERBAL'S BODYVerbal's hands are rummaging around in his pockets. The good
left hand comes up with a pack of cigarettes, the bad right
hand comes up with a lighter. The right hand flexes with all
Of the grace and coordination of a sculptor's, flicking the
clasp on the antique lighter with the thumb, striking the
flint with the index finger. It is a fluid motion, somewhat
showy.Verbal lights a cigarette and smiles to himself. He turns
and sees the car running alongside.INT. DISPATCHER'S OFFICEJack Beer pulls the sheet out of the fax machine and turns
it over, revealing the composite sketch of Keyser Soze.Though crude and distorted, one cannot help but notice how
much it looks like VERBAL KINT.EXT. STREETThe car stops. The driver gets out. IT IS KOBAYASHI, or the
man we have come to know as such. He smiles to Verbal. Verbal
steps off of the curb, returning the smile as he opens the
passenger door and gets in.The man called Kobayashi gets in the driver's seat and pulls
away.A moment later, Agent David Kujan of U.S. Customs wanders
into the frame, looking around much in the way a child would
when lost at the circus.He takes no notice of the car pulling out into traffic,
blending in with the rest of the cars filled with people on
their way back to work.BLACKTHE ENDNow compare to the way the scene plays out in the movie:http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=4OAFtr-ciQENotice how much dialogue didn't make it into the final cut. As they say, "Less is more."Do you remember the moment you realized the truth about Keyser Söze when you first watched The Usual Suspects?
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