From Ducks Till Dawn
The FBI and local Texan police are on the pursuit of the Newt Brothers but they’ve just inconspicuously passed the border into Mexico where, according to the younger brother Richie, there are lots of Mexicans.
They drive South, getting further and further away from American law and into of cartel territory, slipping through the darkness to a secluded strip club called the ‘Nipple Nest’, where they’ve arranged to meet their contact Carlos at dawn.
The Newt brothers and their Christian hostages trail to the large doors of the busy brothel to be greeted by the doorman, Mr. Pussy, who for some reason attempts to sell the new guests various types of cats. “White cats, black cats, Spanish cats, yellow cats, hot cats, cold cats… Smelly cat…”
“Is Phoebe Buffay working here?” asks Seth Newt, who became a big fan of TV series Friends while locked away in prison.
Mr. Pussy ignores the question and carries on, blocking their way to dancing women and golden rivers of tequila. “Silk cats, velvet cats, horse cats, dog cats, chicken cats!”
It’s all getting too confusing for the thirsty brothers so they beat the doorman up and enter the bar. Richie kicks the man a few more times as he shares some staccatoed wisdom with every kick. “Why, are you, selling, cats at a, strip club? We’re not, your target, market!”
They gather round a table enjoying a bottle of underage drinking and slamming shot glasses.
The barman calls everyone to attention as it’s time for the main event. “Bow your head, kneel and worship at the palmates of Anas Diazi Pandemonium.” Silence and erections spread across the room as a beautiful woman appears from the shadows dressed in a pancake-like cape, a bikini and a headdress of feathers. She struts her way to the centre table and sways what body God gave her. All this in front of our pervert friend, Richie Newt, whose mouth gapes in lust as she does a sexy version of the birdie dance. “Now that’s what I call a fucking show!” exclaims his brother Seth. Everyone cheers!
Meanwhile, the Nipple Nest staff Huey, Dewey and Louie, confront the group after they attacked Mr. Pussy at the entrance. The brawl leaves the three amigos shot and stabbed on the floor. The Newt brothers are unscathed, apart Richie’s bloody hand, and in control of the room. Until… Anas Diazi breathes her way into an inflamed frenzy. All of a sudden, her body shrinks. Her bountiful lips turn into a yellow beak. Her long luscious arms transform into waterproof wings. Her callipygous buttocks becomes an unappealing rump covered in beige rectrices and her legs are now crusty orange shanks. Her once shapely feet, which younger brother Richie drank tequila from, have now digressed into webbed paddles.
The clientele are horrified as she jumps onto Richie and kills him. All the staff turn into ducks! Screams echo and quacks don’t, as flesh is ripped apart by these small omnivorous birds. Blood and bile sprays out as a duck’s bill forages a biker’s intestines. Avian squeaks bellow as their wings are ripped apart by surviving members. Limbs and feathers fly all over the place. Leaving only a few survivors. Seth, his hostages and two others, Vietnam Man & S-eggs Machine, confused as to what they’ve seen.
They rummage around the bar attempting to find answers as Seth searches for his dead brother amongst the pile of dead crumbs. He grabs him in his arms to say goodbye. “I love you brother” says a sad Seth. “I love you too.” replies his bloody brother, before metamorphosing into a duck.
Panic as they realise anyone bitten by a duck will become one of Santan’s favourite birds. S-eggs machine goes to plunge a pool cue into the duck’s heart, but is interrupted. “You touch my brother with that stake” says Seth, “and ducks won’t have to suck your blood. They’ll be able to lick it up off the floor.” The biker replies asks. “Can ducks lick things?”
Pandemonium spreads again as the corpses reanimate and become part of the Anatidae family of birds. It’s time for a duck hunt! Seth convinces the group that pastor Jacob is their best weapon – if he rediscovers his faith – If he – can be Devoted Unconditionally to Christ’s Kingdom. D.U.C.K.
The Nipple Nest is surrounded by duck reinforcement as the team arm themselves with condoms full of hoisin sauce and a Nintendo light gun shooter. More blood and feathers. Everyone dies except Seth and one of his hostages. Safely outside in the sunshine, which we all know, is harmful to ducks, Carlos awaits for the two to escape. They drive away from this Hell hole. Unaware that behind what seemed like a small strip club is a very large pond.
CLASSIC LINES FROM THE FILM
“And I don’t want to hear anything about “I don’t believe in ducks” because I don’t believe in ducks, but I believe in my own two eyes and what I saw was a fucking duck!”
“Has anybody here read a real book about ducks, or are we just remembering what a movie said? I mean a real book, like Hans Christian Andersen’s The Ugly Duckling.”
– Mr. Pussy was not supposed to sell cats, but “pussy” as in vaginas, seeing as this was a strip club and brothel. But they only had time to film this scene once, which angered Tarantino, hence why he improvised the followed beating.
– Real tequila was used during the filming, which gave many actors hangovers for the next day of filming, only to find they’d have to continue drinking. Some scenes had to be cut due to the fighting and some ducks died after finding where the hidden stash of infamous tequila worms and gorging on them.
– The feathers were all from Marabou Storks.
– Sales of brocoli went up after the movie’s release. Nobody thinks this has any correlation to the film, but the director is adamant it did due to the Clooney’s rant that was filmed by an extra and leaked online about the vegetable.
– Cast & crew had a barbecue for the ‘wrap’ party. Ducks were of course invited.
WHAT THE CRITICS SAID
“I’ll think twice before ordering duck à la orange next time I go to the restaurant!”
Super Film Super Times
“I’m getting sick of people think a duck’s quack can’t echo. It can. It can damn it!”
“Audiences will love the foul play”
That Film Magazine
WRITTEN BY ERIC LAMPAERT