Human Traffic Page #2

Synopsis: The Cardiff club scene in the 90's: five best friends deal with their relationships and their personal demons during a weekend. Jip calls himself a sexual paranoid, afraid he's impotent. Lulu, Jip's mate, doesn't find much to fancy in men. Nina hates her job at a fast food joint, and her man, Koop, who dreams of being a great hip-hop d.j., is prone to fits of un-provoked jealousy. The fifth is Moff, whose family is down on his behavior. Starting Friday afternoon, with preparations for clubbing, we follow the five from Ecstacy-induced fun through a booze-laden come-down early Saturday morning followed by the weekend's aftermath. It's breakthrough time for at least three of them.
Genre: Comedy, Music
Director(s): Justin Kerrigan
Production: Miramax Films
  9 wins & 7 nominations.
 
IMDB:
7.1
Metacritic:
53
Rotten Tomatoes:
59%
R
Year:
1999
99 min
3,324 Views


Thanks. Bye.

See ya.

- It was an accident.

- Some f***ing accident.

- So you just gonna throw it all away?

You threw it away when you had your little accident with Yvonne.

- F*** Yvonne.

- No, f*** you!

You can't just take the piss outta people

and then come back and expected to be Terry and f***ing June.

Come on. I'm sorry.

[ Sigh ] Write a song, Tyler.

I don't care.

Good luck with your life,

'cause you gonna f***ing need it.

This is the third guy

who's f***ed me over in a row.

It's not you, Lu.

You're just a f***ing arsehole magnet.

[ Jip Narrating ]

Lulu didn't enroll for a degree

in social masturbation,

but she's getting one anyway.

Matt and Luke are post-Goa-modernists.

They live in a canteen armed only

with their Golden Virginia and Blue Rizla+.

Yacking endlessly about that psychadelic clichs

and how being black is a state of mind, yeah?

Aah, and they just got back from Amsterdam.

Designer-poor

and white-boy-dread posse.

F***ing space invaders.

- How's it going?

- Downhill.

Right, cool.

- So, how was your trip?

- Ah, well.

The theory of the 'Dam is,

yeah, life's for living.

So just sit down, skin up,

be blot. We chilled out

in the red-light district.

- Everyone's blazing away,

smoking trees of weed.

- Word to the "mummyfucker."

Our last night there,

we were sharing a skunk,

chillin' with these two

massive Rastas.

Nobody said a word. We just sat there

for three hours going up in smoke.

Nodding our heads to the dub

reggae that warmed the place.

The base line was so deep,

you could feel the

vibrations in Jamaica.

- Yo, what's up?

- Hey, nice, nice.

- Any new hip-hop, man?

- Yeah.

Eh, I got some smoking

West-Coast flow just landed.

Raw as botulism, mate.

Now, f*** that West Coast sh*t.

I want some hard-core

East Coast flavor beat.

You know what I mean?

Well, why didn't you say so? Fat beats.

Armageddon on the streets.

We're inundated

with the sh*t, "bra."

Eh, we had anymore hard core,

we'd get arrested,

you know what I mean?

Yeah, high.

[ Jip Narrating ]

Now Koop's on the pulse,

but he's a serious vinyl pusher.

Getting the kids hooked,

hustling with style.

This... was recorded

by a posse of crackheads

on death row, right?

So all them little interludes

of prison noises and that,

they're for real.

They call themselves

The Itchy Trigger Finger "Nigaz."

- The itchy what?

- The Itchy Trigger Finger "Nigaz."

[ Rap music playing: Grim My Last Request ]

...Success with falling in New York is amazing...

...Nine Glock cocked cops? F*** cops, my block...

...Execute, rip n tear, prepare electric chair...

...For the villainous, halfway crooked crimes are silliness...

Rate this script:5.0 / 1 vote

Justin Kerrigan

Justin Kerrigan (born 1974) is a Welsh writer and film director, best known for the 1999 film Human Traffic. more…

All Justin Kerrigan scripts | Justin Kerrigan Scripts

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Submitted on August 05, 2018

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