Wedlock

Synopsis: Frank (Rutger Hauer has been convicted of stealing millions of dollars of diamonds which have not been recovered. In his uni-sex prison, each inmate has an unknown partner; when the two are separated by more than 100 yards, an explosive collar kills both inmates. Frank and his female partner escape and head for the money, but they are hotly pursued by his double-crossing colleagues.
Genre: Action, Crime, Drama
Director(s): Lewis Teague
Production: Media Home Entertainment
 
IMDB:
5.9
R
Year:
1991
101 min
13 Views

'Attention, please. The Theatre Of

Diamonds will be closing in five minutes.

'Please complete your transactions

and exit through the main doors.'

- What do you think?

- Did you boost that?

Of course not! I paid him the 12 grand.

You'd risk a job like this for a necklace?

- Come on, kids.

- Loosen up.

Over here.

Hey, guys. Next floor.

- One more up.

- Sorry.

Jeez, I'm sorry, man.

Ah!

Sorry. Sorry.

Hey, what the hell's going on?

Come on, man, what's your problem?

That's what they get paid for. Let's go.

Found the alarm.

Don't touch anything till I say so.

Damn! I said wait.

- I thought you said you found it.

- I didn't by-pass it yet. Idiot.

Relax, we got time.

Over here.

- Here you go.

- Right.

You're gonna be a rich bride.

Oh!

Jesus.

Oh! Frank!

These'll be worth

at least 25 million dollars.

- Let's get out of here.

- Yes, sir!

Come on, come on!

- Come on.

- You should've been here.

- Where's your cap?

- Screw the cap, take this.

- We said no guns.

- Relax. We gotta look like real cops.

Keep it. Stay cool.

- You see 'em?

- They saw us and ducked back inside.

- How many?

- I don't know.

- Two.

- You two hit the roof, you three inside.

- Sir.

- Let's go. Let's go, let's go.

- Nice necklace.

- Er, yeah.

Our precinct won't let us

wear anything but chains.

That's too bad.

Yeah, things are really lax

at the Manchester station.

Yeah...

There is no Manchester station.

- What the hell was that?

- I don't know.

Oh, no!

- Officer down!

- I'll meet you there!

- Where are they going?

- Stop!

F*ck.

Come on out

with your hands up.

Fire!

Go after him.

He's in a squad car. Go get him!

- Let's go!

- Hurry up!

'Car 129 pursuing suspect

in police uniform and squad car,

'driving east on Gasray Avenue.'

We're banged into a wall,

we can't pursue yet.

You want me to go after him when I can?

No. I have a few people here

who would like to meet him.

Let's get in position, guys.

He's coming out any second now.

Here he comes!

In position. Hold your ground.

All right. Here goes.

He's not stopping! Fire!

All right, move in.

- Watch him.

- Easy, easy.

- Where is he? What?

- There's nobody in there.

What the hell's going on?

He rigged the f*cking accelerator.

Goddamnit. Motherf*cker son of a bitch.

- Where the f*ck is he?

- Start looking!

- Where the f*ck have you been?

- Foolproof, huh?

No cops, no guns.

Real easy, in and out, no problem?

Were you out of your mind?

Setting off the alarm?

- We almost got killed.

- Come on.

- At least you made it, lover.

- Coulda been a funeral, not a wedding.

- Yeah, yeah. We gotta go.

- Yeah, I stopped by the...

Oh, by the way, Frankie,

I got some more bad news for you.

- The lady's with me.

- Come on, Sam, don't f*ck with me.

Sorry, Frank.

You never were very smart.

He's making you say that, right?

Wrong.

No!

OK, blindfolds off.

Hey, hey, boy.

Step up. Move on up here.

Come on.

Move your sorry butts.

Get that smile off your face.

What do you think this is?

Get your sorry ass on that line.

Move it, fat ass! You, move!

Come on up here.

I don't get it.

A few guards, no fences. Mm-mm.

I don't know why

everybody's staying around.

Quiet, f*ckfaces!

Attention!

Who does your hair, hm?

Oh...

What's a fetching female

like you doing here?

I don't know.

How many guesses do I get?

Well...

Morning. I'm Warden Holliday.

Welcome to Camp Holliday,

the new jewel of

maximum security institutions.

All of you are now participants

in a new penal experiment.

Demonstration.

No one has ever escaped. Why?

Because we've taken

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Broderick Miller

Broderick Miller is an American screenwriter, known for his television and feature work and for being co-founder, President and Artistic Director of the Silver Lake Children’s Theatre Group. Son of actor Frank Warren and godson to Warren’s, Academy Award-winnng actor Broderick Crawford (Best Actor All the King's Men, 1949), attending Claremont McKenna College where he earned degrees in Film and Political Science. Armed only with a bottle of Johnny Walker Black Label scotch, Miller sneaked backstage at a 1975 production of The Seagull in the London West End (starring Helen Mirren, Joan Plowright and Frank Finlay) just to thank Anderson for making his favorite movie, O Lucky Man! Impressed by Miller’s passion and genuineness, Anderson adopted him as a protégé, changing Miller’s life forever. Mr. Miller worked as Anderson's personal assistant before serving as First Assistant Director on Mr. Anderson’s last feature film, The Whales of August (1987).  Mr. Miller’s first screenplay, Deadlock (1991 - titled Wedlock internationally) was made into an HBO movie starring Rutger Hauer and Mimi Rogers and he also served as Associate Producer.  His other screenwriting work includes Slap Shot 2: Breaking the Ice and Deadlocked: Escape from Zone 14. plus the TV pilots for Deadwood (unrelated to the HBO show of the same name) and Don't Be Cruel. He has also been developing his script The Escape Artist with Steven Spielberg for DreamWorks. Mr. Miller also wrote the short subject Grandfather’s Birthday (2000) which won a Regional Emmy Award from the National Academy of Television Arts & Sciences, Minnesota chapter. In 2001, Mr. Miller co-founded the Silver Lake Children’s Theatre Group (SCTG) as a means for young actors to explore the human condition through challenging themes, material, staging and characters. more…

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Submitted on August 05, 2018

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"Wedlock" Scripts.com. STANDS4 LLC, 2019. Web. 8 Dec. 2019. <https://www.scripts.com/script/wedlock_23192>.

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