The Freshman

Over there. Look.

Dwight, don't!

A**hole!

Are you nuts? You can't see the cap?

It's not orange enough?

Get out of these woods!

- I can hunt here. I got a permit.

- Lf he's got a permit...

Get out!

Let's go.

That's Dwight Armstrong,

my stepfather.

Accent on "step."

He's a lawyer.

And he's head of

"The Friends of Fish and Wildlife"...

... an extremist pro-mammal group

in Vermont.

Almost all its members, male

and female, look like Dwight.

My real dad died

in a motorcycle wreck when I was 6.

Two years later,

Mom met Mr. Personality.

It has not been a barrel of laughs.

There was a certain poignancy

about today's hunting party.

It was my last evening at home.

Tomorrow I was beginning my first year

at New York University film school.

A freshman. That was me.

My farewell dinner was

raucous and hilarious...

... full of warm, good feelings.

That should cover it.

Dwight gave me $600 spending

money...

... and a hearty handshake.

- Where's the subway?

- Downstairs.

- That way?

- Right.

Sorry.

Forget it. He's out like a light.

The shame of the cities.

- Nothing broken?

- I'm okay.

That was a nasty spill.

- I'm okay.

- You sure?

- I'll give you a hand with those bags.

- No, thanks. I'm fine.

You're a smart kid.

Rule 1:

Don't let anybody touch your bags

unless you know that person is bonded.

Thanks.

I'm bonded, which is your good fortune.

Ignore her.

Who's this stranger talking to you?

It's Victor Ray of the

Victor Ray Car Service.

On your way to college, right?

- New York University.

- Good school.

Thanks. Do you know

where the subway is?

- You don't want the subway.

- Yes, I do.

- It's over there.

- Thanks.

In New York, we have

three distinct social classes.

A:
People who make a billion dollars a

day and get laid in Trump Tower.

B:
People who live in Times Square and

eat Yankee Doodles on the sidewalk.

C:
Me.

Guys I call "the glue of society."

We go, "Forget about it."

All hell will break loose.

- Rich against poor.

- We're on the brink. It's seething.

Come with me.

For $65, you get an air-conditioned

ride and peace of mind.

No, I can't afford that.

I'll take you for the old rate, fifty.

No, it's out of my league.

- How much can you go for?

- I don't know.

- Forty, which for me is charity.

- Ten dollars I can manage.

Ten dollars?

For delivery and security in a

mint-condition Bonneville?

I have to eat.

I can't do better.

I'll walk or take a bus.

Okay, ten bucks.

I'll take you for ten bucks,

but on one condition.

Promise you won't tell anybody.

Word gets out, I'm finished.

- I won't tell a soul.

- Follow me.

I'm parked in a reserved spot.

Let's go. Come on.

Watch out!

Watch out! Suicide attempt, right?

It's bigger than I imagined.

That's true of many things in Manhattan.

The other boroughs too.

Tremendous things in Queens.

Go to the trunk.

It opens from the inside.

Take everything.

You'd be surprised how many people...

Stop the car!

Stop the car, please!

I'd been in New York 19 minutes 11

seconds, and I was already ruined.

Action.

The roommate enters. Come on in.

Don't be afraid. That's it. Come in.

I'm holding you in a medium shot.

A lovely shot. Very cinematic.

My name is Clark Kel...

A little confused. I like it.

It sells.

I like actors who think

in front of the camera.

- I'm moving in.

- Is this the right room?

Cut.

That's a wrap. Check it.

Kellogg?

You're...?

- Steve Bushak.

- How do you do?

Really nice to meet you.

I should go to the police.

Kojak is a fictional character.

- Don't involve the police.

- So I'm just a victim.

Everybody in this city is a victim.

Welcome to New York.

I'm deeply moved.

I understand your position, but...

For Introduction to Film you must own

Fleeber's "Viewpoints in Cinema..."

...and "Selected Readings in Cinema,"

by...

...Fleeber.

I want to buy your books...

They aren't "my" books, Mr. Kellogg.

They are essential reading, as are

the 12 other books you must own...

...and which will cost over $700.

I'm doing a paper, "And The Wheels Go

Slow:
Form and Function in "42nd St."

That would be a very interesting idea.

Take a musical...

Call your family for more money.

My stepfather won't help me out.

This is out of Dickens.

Robbed by a street urchin.

A wicked stepfather.

I don't know what to say.

I'm trying to explain that I can't

get the books now.

I'm a faculty advisor,

not a caseworker.

I'm only interested

in your academic career.

And you're off to an extraordinarily

unimpressive start.

I'm sorry,

but being new to New York...

Excuse me. I have to leave now.

Hey! Excuse me.

Hey, wait up!

Stop him! Wait!

Watch it!

I want my money and my stuff. Now!

My money or I call the cops!

No English!

Knock it off! I know who you are!

Where's my stuff?

Upstairs. Give me a hand with this.

You crazy?

I victimized you in a moment of

weakness and now justice is done.

Give me a hand.

My money.

Do you have my money?

Watch your step. Floors are wet.

- Give me the money immediately...

- I'd love to do just that.

However...

...here we have an awkward moment.

Tragically...

...I have a gambling problem.

I placed a wager on a horse.

Predictably.

You lost my money on a horse?

All of it?

Now, I'm not sure it was a horse.

Oh, God. Oh, God.

I swear, it was a responsible bet.

It was a 4-to-1 shot. What can I say?

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