Jerry Maguire

 

 

Screenplay by                     Cameron Crowe

 

Produced by                       James L. Brooks

                                     Laurence Mark

                                     Richard Sakai

                                     Cameron Crowe

 

Directed by                        Cameron Crowe

 

 

 

Cast List:

 

Tom Cruise                      Jerry Maguire

Cuba Gooding Jr.              Rod Tidwell

Renne Zellweger               Dorothy Boyd

Kelly Preston                   Avery Bishop

Jay Mohr                         Bob Sugar

Jerry O'Connell                        Frank Cushman

Bonnie Hunt                    Laurel Boyd

Regina King                     Marcee Tidewell

Eric Stoltz                       Vahlere

 

 

 

 

EARTH FROM SPACE

 

The blue marble as seen from space. We hear the calm voice of Jerry Maguire, talking just to us.

 

JERRY'S VOICE

Alright so this is the world and there are five billion people on it. When I was a kid there were three. It's hard to keep up.

 

 

AMERICA FROM SPACE

 

The great continent through mist and swirling skies. (Satellites and other pieces of skycasting equipment float by.)

 

JERRY'S VOICE

That's better. That's america. See, America still sets the tone for the world...

 

 

KID ON BASKETBALL COURT

 

A puberty-ravaged kid dribbles a basketball, stares straight at us.

 

JERRY'S VOICE

In Indiana – Clark Hodd. 13. The best point guard in the country. Puberty hasn't been easy.

 

Discreetly, his hand slips into his pants and scratches.

 

Girl on a high dive she's poised. A faraway look in her eyes.

 

JERRY'S VOICE

(continuing)

Becky Farling. You'll see her in the next Olympics.

 

She launches her dive into mid-air, into nothingness.

 

 

ON TEENAGE GIRL BOXER

 

Throwing punches toward the camera.

 

JERRY'S VOICE

Seattle, Washington. Dallas Malloy. Went to court to be allowed to box professionally. She's 16.

 

 

ON A YOUNG BASEBALL PLAYER

 

At bat.

 

JERRY'S VOICE

Art Stallings, Indio, California. Check out what pure joy looks like.

 

He swats a pitch – not out of the park, it's much sweeter than that. He drills it over the first baseman's head, just out of reach of his glove. Art runs to first, laughing. Pats the first baseman's butt. Gotcha.

 

 

ON GOLDEN BOY QUARTERBACK – FRANK CUSHMAN

 

A line of NFL scouts watch a dazzling pass from a future star.

 

JERRY'S VOICE

In Odessa, Texas, the great Frank Cushman. Cush is 20. Quarterback, role model, my client. He'll probably go number one in the draft this year.

 

Cush turns into a closer shot. He's a living magazine cover.

 

 

A YOUNG CHAMPIONSHIP GOLFER

 

Eyeing a long but level putt.

 

JERRY'S VOICE

There's genius everywhere, but until they turn pro, it's like popcorn in the pan. Some pop...

 

The kid misses the shot, whips his club at his coach.

 

JERRY'S VOICE

(continuing)

... some don't.

 

Hold on the kid, he's all youthful adrenalin, breathing hard. Portrait of an intense young competitor.

 

SMASH CUT TO:

 

 

INT. NFL OWNERS MEETING / PALM DESERT FOUR SEASONS – DAY

 

A wall of new NFL merchandise. Television monitors blink with the latest endorsement films. Into frame moves JERRY MAGUIRE, 35. He walks briskly and smoothly, yellow legal tablet in hand, at home in this lobby filled with Athletes and Sports Team Owners. We hear Herb Alpert's epic instrumental, "The Lonely Bull."

 

JERRY'S VOICE

Now I'm the guy you don't usually see. I'm the one behind the scenes. I'm the sports agent.

 

 

INT. NFL OWNER'S MEETING LOBBY – MINUTES LATER

 

Jerry sits in a red leather chair, across from an agitated General Manager. He coolly works out figures on a yellow legal tablet.

 

JERRY

Easy now, we can spread these numbers over five years...

 

JERRY'S VOICE

You know those photos where the new player holds up the team jersey and poses with the owner?

 

 

FLASH OF PHOTO

 

Anonymous Athlete holds up jersey, standing next to Team Owner. Zoom in on someone's shirt-sleeve on left of frame.

 

JERRY'S VOICE

(continuing)

That's me on the left.

 

 

ON ANONYMOUS NEWPORT BEACH BUILDING

 

JERRY'S VOICE

Inside that building, that's where I work. Sports Management International.

 

 

INT. SMI CONFERENCE ROOM – DAY

 

The SMI agents are a fierce, happy bunch. They sit in a carefully appointed conference room.

 

Sports photos and posters are framed on the walls. The signs of global marketing are omnipresent. Each agent has a silver tray containing soft drinks and a glass pitcher of water. Through the glass window, we see a large office divided up into many cubicles.

 

JERRY'S VOICE

Thirty-three out of shape agents guiding the careers of 2,120 of the most finely-tuned athletes alive...

 

Near the end of the table sits Jerry Maguire. The word "millions" appears often and easily in his conversation. Shot moves in.

 

JERRY'S VOICE

(continuing)

... in this economy, sometimes emotions run a little high.

 

 

INT. UNDERGROUND PARKING GARAGE – HOUSTON – DAY

 

An unmarked car pulls into the underground parking facility of the Houston Police Department. A cluster of chattering media members move in on the car. ("Baja!!" "Baja, over here!!") Back doors open, and out steps Jerry Maguire with huge offensive lineman, BOBBY "BAJA" BRUNARD, 22. He is angry, and he is handcuffed.

 

WOMAN REPORTER

Was the girl 16 or seventeen?

 

MAN REPORTER

Were you aiming at anyone when you fired the shot in the 7/l1?

 

Jerry whips in between Baja and the taunting media, blocking him off and forcing him through the glass doors into the police department. Professional smile in place, Maguire attempts spin.

 

JERRY

Listen, there's no proof of anything except that this guy is a sensational athlete.

 

In the background, we hear baja bellowing insults at the press.

 

 

INT. ATLANTA RED CARPET ROOM – ANOTHER DAY

 

Jerry now sits next to a towering white 27 year-old basketball player with a bad haircut. He is CALVIN NACK. They are signing a contract in the airport lounge. A little BOY approaches the player with a basketball trading card.

 

LITTLE BOY

Are you Calvin Nack? Could you sign my card?

 

Nack bends down with a kindly-looking face.

 

CALVIN NACK

I'm sorry little fella. I can't sign that particular brand of card. I can only sign Pro-Jam Blue Dot cards.

 

The Little Boy looks confused. As Calvin Nack turns to grab an orange juice from a barmaid, Jerry smoothly dishes off a business card to the little boy.

 

JERRY'S VOICE

Lately, it's gotten worse.

 

 

INT. HOSPITAL BEDROOM – NIGHT

 

Hockey Player STEVE REMO, 33, is a big man in a small bed. He is in traction, with concussion. DOCTOR stands nearby, shoots Jerry a look of concern. Family is nearby.

 

DOCTOR

Do you know your name?

 

STEVE REMO

I uh... wait. Wait, here it comes. I have it. My name is Steve Remo. I play for the Blackhawks.

(now on a roll)

You are my son. This pretty lady is my wife. And you are...

 

Jerry nods encouragingly, presents his best "familiar" face.

 

STEVE REMO

(continuing)

My agent!

 

JERRY

Yes!

 

STEVE REMO

And I gotta play this weekend, Doc. If I play in 65% of the games, I make my bonus.

 

 

EXT. HOSPITAL HALLWAY – NIGHT

 

Remo's 14 year-old SON (JESSE) confronts Jerry outside the hospital room. He's a hulking kid, a Pop Warner football player himself. His voice is in the process of changing.

 

SON

This is his fourth concussion. Shouldn't somebody get him to stop?

 

As he talks, Jerry's cellular phone rings in his bag.

 

JERRY

(glib, easy)

Come on – it'd take a tank to stop your dad. It would take all five Super Trooper VR Warriors, right?

 

The kid stares at Maguire. It feels as if the kid is peering into his soul... and all he sees is trash.

 

SON

Fuck you.

 

The kid turns and exits in disgust. He leaves Jerry standing in the hallway. Devastated. Music.

 

 

EXT. RENTAL CAR SHUTTLE – DAY

 

Jerry Maguire upset in a rental shuttle. Passing through frame. Music. Phone still ringing.

 

 

INT. MIAMI HOTEL ROOM – DAY

 

Jerry sleeps.

 

JERRY'S VOICE

Two nights later in Miami at our corporate conference, a breakthrough. Breakdown? Breakthrough.

 

Jerry's eyes open. Breathing strangely. Trembling, he holds onto the nightstand for grounding.

 

He gets up, takes a few gulps of air, walks to mini-bar. Gathers some tiny ice cubes in his hand, smears them across his face. This feeling is new to him.

 

JERRY'S VOICE

(continuing)

It was the oddest, most unexpected thing. I began writing what they call a Mission Statement for my company. You know – a Mission Statement – a suggestion for the future.

 

 

INT. MIAMI HOTEL ROOM – NIGHT

 

Jerry types, a pot of coffee and tray of room service nearby. we watch his face, alive now.

 

There is a direct line from the deepest part of him to the words he's typing. His fingers fly. Even his eyes grow moist.

 

JERRY'S VOICE

What started out as one page became twenty-five. Suddenly I was my father's son. I was remembering the simple pleasures of this job, how I ended up here out of law school, the way a stadium sounds when one of my players performs well on the field... I was remembering even the words of the late Dicky Fox, the original sports agent, who said:

 

 

SHOT OF DICKY FOX

 

DICKY FOX

The key to this job is personal relationships.

 

As Jerry continues typing, his voice is excited now.

 

JERRY'S VOICE

And suddenly it was all pretty clear. The answer was fewer clients. Caring for them, caring for ourselves, and the games too. Starting our lives, really.

 

 

SHOT OF SENTENCE

 

We must embrace what is still virginal about our own enthusiasm, we must crack open the tightly clenched fist and give back a little for the common good, we must simply be the best versions of ourselves... that goodness will be unbeatable and the money will appear.

 

He pauses, and wipes his eyes, still considering the sentence.

 

JERRY'S VOICE

(continuing)

Hey, I'll be the first to admit it. What I was writing was somewhat "touchy feely."

 

He deletes it. And then – zip – he restores it and continues on, boldly.

 

JERRY'S VOICE

(continuing)

I didn't care. I had lost the ability to bullshit. It was the me I'd always wanted to be.

 

 

INT. KINKO'S COPIES – NIGHT

 

Jerry in T-shirt stands proudly watching copies pumped out. Wired college students, band guys, other Copy People of the Night nearby.

 

JERRY'S VOICE

I printed it up in the middle of the night, before I could re-think it.

 

Industrial, multi-pierced Kinko's copy guy examines the first printed copy of the Mission Statement. He nods approvingly, taps his heart in tribute. He slides a copy across the counter, for Jerry's approval.

 

"THE THINGS WE THINK AND DO NOT SAY

(The Future of Our Business)"

 

KINKO'S GUY

That's how you become great, man. You hang your ba11s out there.

 

Jerry nods. It's 3 AM, and this guy sounds and looks like a prophet. In fact, everyone in Kinko's at 3 AM does.

 

JERRY

(self-effacing)

Thanks.

 

 

ON MEMOS

 

Being stuffed into mail-slots.

 

 

INT. HOTEL ROOM – MORNING

 

Jerry splashes water onto his face. The sun is coming up. He looks younger, lighter.

 

 

ON TV MOVIE (JERRY WATCHING)

 

Suddenly, dramatic movie score. It's Dana Andrews, showing Gene Tierney the newspaper reports of her death in Laura. ("Someone was murdered in this room last night... any idea who it was?") Camera whips to Jerry, standing watching as he packs. A slight concern on his face. He moves to the phone, and dials with urgency.

 

JERRY

Hi, it's jerry maguire. Uh, listen did those manuscripts get... Oh they did... No no no no no, that's fine...

 

 

INT. ELEVATOR – DAY

 

JERRY

Jerry in suit, alone with his luggage. Dry throat. clammy, holds onto the handrail to steady himself.

 

 

INT. LOBBY – DAY

 

The lobby is filled with SMI agents. The blue Mission Statement is in evidence everywhere. Jerry inconspicuously turns the corner, yearns to blend in. It's impossible, the recognition ripples through the lobby. Underling agent BOB SUGAR, 25, is the first to grab Maguire by the shoulders. ("Finally, someone said it!") Suddenly another agent begins to clap, then reluctantly, another. Soon, the ovation rocks the lobby. (In a three-shot near the front desk, we see a 26 year-old female employee of SMI applauding with Mission Statement in hand, her sleepy son at her side.) Jerry motions for them all to stop, but clearly he could listen forever. It is a watershed moment in his life.

 

JERRY'S VOICE

I was 35. I had started my life.

 

Swing off Maguire to find two agents standing clapping enthusiastically near the elevator. One offers gum to the other.

 

AGENT # 1 (RACHEL)

How long you give him?

 

AGENT # 2 (CHRIS)

Mmmm. A week.

 

 

ON AIRPLANE WHEELS

 

Folding up into a plane, as music and credits end.

 

 

INT. AIRPLANE – FIRST CLASS – NIGHT

 

We move past a snoring businessman, onto tired but adrenalized Jerry Maguire. He sits in first-class, working on his laptop, a pile of newspapers and magazines nearby. The WOMAN PASSENGER next to him, 3oish, finishes up a spicy phone conversation with her boyfriend.

 

WOMAN

Monkeyface... monkeyface, listen... I'm not going to say it here.... no...

 

Jerry continues to work, as his laptop now beeps. Battery's low.

 

WOMAN

(continuing)

... oh listen, I got you the perfect white shirt, at this out of the way place... no... quit trying to make me say it!

 

Jerry shuts off his laptop and prepares for sleep. Trying not to listen.

 

WOMAN

(continuing)

... how about if I do it and don't say it... mmmm... see you soon...

 

She laughs seductively and hangs up. She is still buzzed from the conversation. Jerry turns to her, surprising her.

 

JERRY

I have to ask.

 

WOMAN

(protective)

What –

 

JERRY

Where'd you find the perfect white shirt?

 

She laughs, it's an infectious laugh – two strangers enjoying the good life – as we DRIFT BACK three rows, past the panel separating the cool comfort of first class from the stuffy airless and uncomfortable world of coach.

 

We meet DOROTHY BOYD, 26. A harried passenger on this bus in the sky. Her clothes are part-contemporary, part mother- functional. She is never as composed or in control as she wants to be. Right now she is devoted to the sneezing kid in the wrinkled white-shirt sitting next to her. It is RAY, her five-year old son. Dorothy is covered in toys and books. Stuffed into the side pocket is Jerry's Mission Statement. The easy laughter from three rows ahead washes over her like cold water, as she rings again for a Flight Attendant. The overworked ATTENDANT arrives, pissed, snapping off the bell.

 

DOROTHY

Look, my son is allergic to the material in these blankets -

 

ATTENDANT

That's all we have.

 

The Attendant offers a bundle of soggy cocktail napkins and is about to exit as Ray makes a gagging noise. He's about to get sick. Both women reach for an airsick bag, and get it to his mouth just in time. Their faces are now inches apart.

 

ATTENDANT

(continuing)

I'm sorry I was rude just then –

 

DOROTHY

It's okay. We're in it together now...

 

The Attendant now exits helpfully with the bag.

 

WOMAN'S VOICE

Don't take anything I say seriously! I love to flirt!

 

Dorothy, irritated, leans out into the aisle to look for the heads that belong to these voices.

 

 

BACK TO JERRY AND WOMAN

 

WOMAN

You're with the sports people on the plane, right?

 

JERRY

Jerry Maguire. SMI.

 

WOMAN

Bobbi Fallon. BPI. I'm producing the Coke commercials for the playoffs.

 

JERRY

Well. Good luck with that –

 

He nods, as he reaches up to shut off the light. Politely stifles another yawn. He shuts his eyes, settles into sleep. Bobbi leans into his darkness.

 

WOMAN

Can I just get a quick "man's" opinion from you on something?

 

DISSOLVE TO:

 

 

INT. FIRST CLASS SEATS – LATER

 

Bobbi is intense now, unburdening, as tired Jerry listens like a priest.

 

WOMAN

And I can't say his name without laughing I want to eat him up. I want to say goodbye to every bad thought I ever had about relationships. I mean, I crave this guy... and yet... why... why did I have that affair this weekend? Does that mean I'm not in love with my boyfriend?

 

JERRY

I think you'll know when you see him at the gate.

 

WOMAN

It's the death rattle of my singlehood, right? Because I finally see the white picket fence looming and I love it/hate it/love it/hate it/ love it... you're right, I'll know when I see him. Why is it so easy to talk with you?! Tell me about your fiancee.

 

Maguire fights another yawn.

 

JERRY

I uh... don't think we're quite at your pitch yet.

 

WOMAN

Tell me, and then you can sleep.

 

JERRY

She's an NFL publicist... amazing sense of style... former athlete... volleyball... world class... really knows how to live every moment of her life, which is why I should take a nap now...

 

 

BACK TO DOROTHY

 

Her sleeping son now silent, she can't help but listen.

 

WOMAN'S VOICE

Tell me how you proposed. I collect romantic proposal stories.

 

JERRY

No no...

 

DOROTHY

(impatient)

Oh, tell the story.

 

WOMAN

Oh, tell the story.

 

 

BACK TO JERRY – LATER

 

JERRY

– so our first date, she told me about her favorite place in the world, the seven pools of Hana on the island of Maui...

 

WOMAN

Gorgeous.

 

JERRY

A year-and-a-half later, we were both in Hawaii for the Pro Bowl. Now I've always hit a wall at 18 months. Every serious girlfriend lasts 18 months. It's like –ka- boom. The curse of 18 months.

 

WOMAN

That's when you need to cement, and define define define.

 

JERRY

Exactly. And the world does not need another 35 year-old bachelor. I knew I wanted to propose, so I took her there.

 

WOMAN

To the pools?

 

JERRY

To the pools. Now she's Miss Rock Climber, and I'm more the Non-Rock Climber, but we're hiking up through the pools and there's a fine mist in the air, and I have the ring in my pocket, and I'm a little nervous, I'm lagging behind, and she says to me, get this – "Hurry up, klutz."

 

WOMAN

Oh no –

 

JERRY