Full Metal Jacket
Based on a novel by Gustav Hasford
Screenplay by Stanley Kubrick
Michael Herr
Gustav Hasford
Produced by Stanley Kubrick
Directed by Stanley Kubrick
Cast List:
Matthew Modine Private Joker
Arliss Howard Private Cowboy
Adam Baldwin Animal Mother
Vincent D'Onofrio Leonard Lawrence / Private Gomer Pyle
Lee Ermey Gunnery Sgt. Hartman
Dorian Harewood Eightball
Kevyn Major Howard Rafterman
Ed O'Ross Walter J. Schinoski / Lt. Touchdown
Jon Stafford Doc Jay
John Terry Lt. Lockhart
Kirk Taylor Payback
FADE IN:
WARNER BROS. LOGO
LOGO FADES OUT
Music: Johnny Wright's "Hello Vietnam"
TITLE: "A STANLEY KUBRICK FILM"
CUT TO:
TITLE: "FULL METAL JACKET"
CUT TO:
INT. BARBERSHOP – PARRIS ISLAND MARINE BASE – DAY
Marine recruits having their heads shaved with electric clippers. The hair piles up on the floor.
INT. BARRACKS – DAY
Marine recruits stand at attention in front of their bunks.
Master Gunnery Sergeant HARTMAN walks along the line of blank-faced recruits.
HARTMAN
I am Gunnery Sergeant Hartman, your Senior Drill Instructor. From now on, you will speak only when spoken to, and the first and last words out of your filthy sewers will be "Sir"!. Do you maggots understand that?
RECRUITS
(in unison)
Sir, yes, sir!
HARTMAN
Bullshit! I can't hear you. Sound off like you got a pair.
RECRUITS
(louder)
Sir, yes, sir!
HARTMAN
If you ladies leave my island, if you survive recruit training... you will be a weapon, you will be a minister of death, praying for war. But until that day you are pukes! You're the lowest form of life on Earth. You are not even human fucking beings! You are nothing but unorganized grabasstic pieces of amphibian shit! Because I am hard, you will not like me. But the more you hate me, the more you will learn. I am hard, but I am fair! There is no racial bigotry here! I do not look down on niggers, kikes, wops or greasers. Here you are all equally worthless! And my orders are to weed out all non-hackers who do not pack the gear to serve in my beloved Corps! Do you maggots understand that?
RECRUITS
(in unison)
Sir, yes, sir!
HARTMAN
Bullshit! I can't hear you!
RECRUITS
(louder)
Sir, yes, sir!
Sergeant Hartman stops in front of a black recruit, Private SNOWBALL.
HARTMAN
What's your name, scumbag?
SNOWBALL
(shouting)
Sir, Private Brown, sir!
HARTMAN
Bullshit! From now on you're Private Snowball! Do you like that name?
SNOWBALL
(shouting)
Sir, yes, sir!
HARTMAN
Well, there's one thing that you won't like, Private Snowball! They don't serve fried chicken and watermelon on a daily basis in my mess hall!
SNOWBALL
Sir, yes, sir!
JOKER
(whispering)
Is that you, John Wayne? Is this me?
HARTMAN
Who said that? Who the fuck said that? Who's the slimy little communist shit twinkle-toed cocksucker down here, who just signed his own death warrant? Nobody, huh?! The fairy fucking godmother said it! Out-fucking-standing! I will P.T. you all until you fucking die! I'll P.T. you until your assholes are sucking buttermilk.
Sergeant Hartman grabs COWBOY by the shirt.
HARTMAN
Was it you, you scroungy little fuck, huh?!
COWBOY
Sir, no, sir!
HARTMAN
You little piece of shit! You look like a fucking worm! I'll bet it was you!
COWBOY
Sir, no, sir!
JOKER
Sir, I said it, sir!
Sergeant Hartman steps up to JOKER.
HARTMAN
Well ... no shit. What have we got here, a fucking comedian? Private Joker? I admire your honesty. Hell, I like you. You can come over to my house and fuck my sister.
Sergeant Hartman punches Joker in the stomach.
Joker sags to his knees.
HARTMAN
You little scumbag! I've got your name! I've got your ass! You will not laugh! You will not cry! You will learn by the numbers. I will teach you. Now get up! Get on your feet! You had best unfuck yourself or I will unscrew your head and shit down your neck!
JOKER
Sir, yes, sir!
HARTMAN
Private Joker, why did you join my beloved Corps?
JOKER
Sir, to kill, sir!
HARTMAN
So you're a killer!
JOKER
Sir, yes, sir!
HARTMAN
Let me see your war face!
JOKER
Sir?
HARTMAN
You've got a war face? Aaaaaaaagh! That's a war face. Now let me see your war face!
JOKER
Aaaaaaaagh!
HARTMAN
Bullshit! You didn't convince me! Let me see your real war face!
JOKER
Aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaagh!
HARTMAN
You didn't scare me! Work on it!
JOKER
Sir, yes, sir!
Sergeant Hartman speaks into Cowboy's face.
HARTMAN
What's your excuse?
COWBOY
Sir, excuse for what, sir?
HARTMAN
I'm asking the fucking questions here, Private. Do you understand?!
COWBOY
Sir, yes, sir!
HARTMAN
Well thank you very much! Can I be in charge for a while?
COWBOY
Sir, yes, sir!
HARTMAN
Are you shook up? Are you nervous?
COWBOY
Sir, I am, sir!
HARTMAN
Do I make you nervous?
COWBOY
Sir!
HARTMAN
Sir, what? Were you about to call me an asshole?!
COWBOY
Sir, no, sir!
HARTMAN
How tall are you, Private?
COWBOY
Sir, five foot nine, sir!
HARTMAN
Five foot nine? I didn't know they stacked shit that high! You trying to squeeze an inch in on me somewhere, huh?
COWBOY
Sir, no, sir.
HARTMAN
Bullshit! It looks to me like the best part of you ran down the crack of your mama's ass and ended up as a brown stain on the mattress! I think you've been cheated!
HARTMAN
Where in hell are you from anyway, Private?
COWBOY
Sir, Texas, sir!
HARTMAN
Holy dogshit! Texas! Only steers and queers come from Texas, Private Cowboy! And you don't look much like a steer to me, so that kinda narrows it down! Do you suck dicks!
COWBOY
Sir, no, sir!
HARTMAN
Are you a peter-puffer?
COWBOY
Sir, no, sir!
HARTMAN
I'll bet you're the kind of guy that would fuck a person in the ass and not even have the goddam common courtesy to give him a reach-around! I'll be watching you!
Sergeant Hartman walks down the line to ANOTHER RECRUIT, a tall, overweight boy.
HARTMAN
Did your parents have any children that lived?
PYLE
Sir, yes, sir!
HARTMAN
I'll bet they regret that! You're so ugly you could be a modern art masterpiece! What's your name, fatbody?
PYLE
Sir, Leonard Lawrence, sir!
HARTMAN
Lawrence? Lawrence, what, of Arabia?
PYLE
Sir, no, sir!
HARTMAN
That name sounds like royalty! Are you royalty?
PYLE
Sir, no, sir!
HARTMAN
Do you suck dicks?
PYLE
Sir, no, sir!
HARTMAN
Bullshit! I'll bet you could suck a golf ball through a garden hose!
PYLE
Sir, no, sir!
HARTMAN
I don't like the name Lawrence! Only faggots and sailors are called Lawrence! From now on you're Gomer Pyle!
PYLE
Sir, yes, sir!
PYLE has the trace of a strange smile on his face.
HARTMAN
Do you think I'm cute, Private Pyle? Do you think I'm funny?
PYLE
Sir, no, sir!
HARTMAN
Then wipe that disgusting grin off your face!
PYLE
Sir, yes, sir!
HARTMAN
Well, any fucking time, sweetheart!
PYLE
Sir, I'm trying, sir.
HARTMAN
Private Pyle, I'm gonna give you three seconds – exactly three fucking seconds – to wipe that stupid-looking grin off your face, or I will gouge out your eyeballs and skull-fuck you! One! Two! Three!
Pyle purses his lips but continues to smile involuntarily.
PYLE
Sir, I can't help it, sir!
HARTMAN
Bullshit! Get on your knees, scumbag!
Pyle gets down on his Knees.
HARTMAN
Now choke yourself!
Pyle places his hands around his throat as if to choke himself.
HARTMAN
Goddamn it, with my hand, numbnuts!!
Pyle reaches for Hartman's hand. Hartman jerks it away.
HARTMAN
Don't pull my fucking hand over there! I said choke yourself! Now lean forward and choke yourself!
Pyle leans forward so that his neck rests in Hartman's open hand.
Hartman chokes Pyle.
Pyle gags and starts to turn red in the face.
HARTMAN
Are you through grinning?
PYLE
(barely able to speak)
Sir, yes, sir!
HARTMAN
Bullshit! I can't hear you!
PYLE
(gasping)
Sir, yes, sir!
HARTMAN
Bullshit! I still can't hear you! Sound offlike you got a pair!
PYLE
(gagging)
Sir, yes, sir!
HARTMAN
That's enough! Get on your feet!
Hartman releases Pyle's throat. Pyle gets to his feet, breathing heavily.
HARTMAN
Private Pyle, you had best square your ass away and start shitting me Tiffany cuff links ... or I will definitely fuck you up!
PYLE
Sir, yes, sir!
EXT. PARRIS ISLAND – DAY
The training platoon is double-timing in formation. Hartman is calling cadence.
HARTMAN
... right, left, right, left! Left, right, left, right, left! Left, right, left, right, left!
JOKER
(narration)
Parris Island, South Carolina.... the United States Marine Corps Recruit Depot. An eight-week college for the phony-tough and the crazy-brave.
HARTMAN
Mama and Papa were laying in bed.
RECRUITS
(chanting in cadence)
Mama and Papa were laying in bed.
HARTMAN
Mama rolled over, this is what she said...
RECRUITS
Mama rolled over, this is what she said...
HARTMAN
Ah, gimme some...
RECRUITS
Ah, gimme some...
HARTMAN
Ah, gimme some...
RECRUITS
Ah, gimme some...
HARTMAN
P.T...
RECRUITS
P.T...
HARTMAN
P.T...
RECRUITS
P.T...
HARTMAN
Good for you!
RECRUITS
Good for you!
HARTMAN
And good for me!
RECRUITS
And good for me!
HARTMAN
Mmm, good.
RECRUITS
Mmm, good.
HARTMAN
Up in the morning to the rising sun.
RECRUITS
Up in the morning to the rising sun.
HARTMAN
Gotta run all day...
EXT. PRACTICE FIELD – SUNSET
Recruits, silhouetted against the sun, climbing ropes, nets and ladders.
HARTMAN
(offhand)
...till the running's done!
RECRUITS
(offhand)
Gotta run all day till the running's done!
HARTMAN
(offhand)
Ho Chi Minh is a son-of-a-bitch!
RECRUITS
(offhand)
Ho Chi Minh is a son-of-a-bitch!
HARTMAN
(offhand)
Got the blueballs, crabs and the seven-year-itch!
RECRUITS
(offhand)
Got the blueballs, crabs and the seven-year-itch!
DISSOLVE TO:
EXT. PARADE DECK – DAY
Hartman marches the platoon across a wide expanse of asphalt. The recruits carry rifles.
HARTMAN
Left, right, left, right, left! To your left shoulder... hut! Left, right, left! Port... hut!
HARTMAN
Left, right! Platoon... halt! Left shoulder... hut!
Pyle momentarily places his rifle on the wrong shoulder and immediately corrects himself.
Hartman spots this and walks up to him.
HARTMAN
Private Pyle, what are you trying to do to my beloved Corps?
PYLE
Sir, I don't know, sir!
HARTMAN
You are dumb, Private Pyle, but do you expect me to believe that you don't know left from right?
PYLE
Sir, no, sir!
HARTMAN
Then you did that on purpose! You want to be different!
PYLE
Sir, no, sir.
Hartman slaps Pyle hard across the left cheek.
HARTMAN
What side was that, Private Pyle?!
PYLE
Sir, left side, sir!
HARTMAN
Are you sure, Private Pyle?
PYLE
Sir, yes, sir!
Hartman slaps Pyle hard across the right cheek, knocking his cap off.
HARTMAN
What side was that, Private Pyle?
PYLE
Sir, right side, sir.
HARTMAN
Don't fuck with me again, Pyle! Pick up your fucking cover!
PYLE
Sir, yes, sir!
DISSOLVE TO:
EXT. PARADE DECK – DAY
