PENGUINS IN A HELICOPTER

"An edge of the seat thrill ride from start to blistering finish" - Time Out
"The greatest penguin film since March of the Penguins 2: Penguigeddon" - The Observer
"Jason Statham's best work" - Jason Statham

Script:

THE skies over New York City. Hard bitten Vietnam veteran and helicopter pilot Wrench Gruntstone (Steven Seagal) is up front, while gruff news cameraman Starch Cleet (Jason Statham) films glamorous reporter Tiffany Feathers (Paris Hilton).

TIFFANY (to camera): You join us as we follow the progress of a high speed chase through downtown Harlem. A white Ford Mustang is travelling at 90mph through residential streets with law enforcement officers in hot pursuit. The identity of the felon is unknown.

Starch swings his camera off Tiffany's face and points it out the window. He zooms in on the chase from above. A flash of black and white shoots across camera.

STARCH: What the hell was that!?
TIFFANY (whispering): Starch, we're still on air.
STARCH (silently mouthing): Sorry Tiff.
TIFFANY (to camera): We'll keep you updated on the chase as it happens - but now back to Gladys in the studio.
STARCH (lowering camera): That was weird.
TIFFANY: What? What was it?
STARCH: Some kind of... no, it sounds crazy.
TIFFANY: This is a crazy world, Starch. Nothing's crazy any more.
STARCH: Well, it looked almost like... like a penguin.

The helicopter jerks violently.

WRENCH (looking round and yelling): Did somebody say penguin!? Tell me that nobody said penguin!
STARCH: Yeah, I said penguin.
WRENCH: Why?
STARCH: Something flashed in front of the camera, is all. Looked kinda like a penguin.
WRENCH: Oh my god.
TIFFANY: What's wrong?
WRENCH: What's wrong? What's wrong!? Fucking penguins you stupid bitch. There are penguins in this fucking helicopter!
TIFFANY: Stop it Wrench, you're scaring me.
STARCH: Yeah man, don't shit a lawnmower. It was just a penguin.
WRENCH: It was "just a penguin" over Saigon in 1973. 35 soldiers in that helicopter. All dead. That place was like an abattoir, the poor bastards were torn apart like rotten meat. Only one person survived.
TIFFANY: Who?
WRENCH: Me. I still don't know why the penguins spared me. Maybe they thought I was one of them.
STARCH: This is getting weird, man. You need to put us down. Screw the car chase.
WRENCH: Yeah, yeah, I need to get us down fast.

The helicopter jerks again as Wrench thrusts the joystick downwards. A back window smashes and Tiffany screams.

TIFFANY: It's inside! There's one inside!
WRENCH: Fuck. Fuck!

Wrench pulls out a pistol and looses off five rounds into the back of the helicopter.

STARCH: Watch out man, you'll kill us!
WRENCH: DUCK!

A penguin leaps out from the back seat and dives towards the cockpit. Wrench fires twice more, and the bird squawks and drops onto Tiffany's lap. She screams again and kicks it out of the helicopter.

STARCH: It's ok, Tiff. It's ok.
TIFFANY: I'm scared. Kiss me, Starch.

The pair kiss passionately, then break off as they hear another smash.

WRENCH: Get down!

They duck as he fires again into the rear of the helicopter. Two penguins scuttle round the side of a seat and launch themselves at Wrench. His bullet hits one in the neck, and it drops to the floor and tumbles out of the helicopter, honking in pain. The second hits him like an arrow, its beak thudding deep into his eye. Wrench screams, blindly fires another few rounds into the cockpit, then goes limp. The helicopter starts to spin as lights begin to flash on the control panel and a warning beep sounds.

TIFFANY: Oh Jesus Christ, we're going to die!

Starch jumps to his feet. As the penguin tries to free itself from Wrench's skull, Starch steels himself and lifts the camera above his head. Then he brings it down hard on the penguin, once, twice, then again and again, his face contorting in a sickened grimace as the feathery pulp of the smashed penguin mingles with the blood, meat, bone and brain of Wrench's obliterated face. He stops, and we hear Tiffany sobbing.

STARCH: Babe - I'm gonna get us down.
TIFFANY: Please Starch, please. I can't take it any more.

Starch leaps into the front seat, kicks the limp body of Wrench out of the way and begins flicking buttons on the control panel. Incredibly, the helicopter begins to stabilise as he wrestles with the joystick. The lights stop flashing and the beeping ceases.

STARCH: Tiff! Tiff, I think we're OK. Tiff?

He looks round. Tiffany is flailing on the floor, eyes rolled into the back of her head. A wide split runs from her neck down to her stomach and five penguins are feasting on her innards.

STARCH (whispering): Good god.

He slowly reaches down to Wrench's body, fumbling amongst the man's belt. His fingers find a hand grenade and he grabs it and brings it close to his mouth. His teeth clamp down on the pin and pull it out.

STARCH (to penguins): Hey assholes.

They stop eating and look up at him.

STARCH: What's black, white and red all over?

Close-up on one of the birds. Its eyes widen.

STARCH: An exploding fucking penguin.

Far shot of the outside of the helicopter. It blows up. Cut to ground shot, looking up a street in Harlem. A few chunks of fiery wreckage drop from the sky, then a charred TV camera thuds to the ground in the middle of the street. At the far end of the street, a white Mustang screeches round the corner and begins driving down the road. Police cars drive round the corner, sirens blazing. The Mustang speeds down the street towards the wreckage. It drives directly over the remains of the TV camera, crushing them underneath the wheel.

The shot zooms in on the driver. It's a penguin. Freeze frame. Roll credits.

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