malcolm gulps, his eyes on the fuming mason jar.
trying to play it cool -- but he is beginning to pant. not from the dancing, but from the situation: a gorgeous white chick asking for it.
he shakes his head.
he has been standing there in deep pain all along.
he raises his glass, toasts archie and downs it. then leaning into the bar, asks:
holding the deadly instrument, fascinated by it, hefting it, feeling its power.
we are tight on malcolm's intense face, he is pulling on a fat joint. we hear bogart blasting his way out of a police blockade.
he looks, then belts down his drink.
stoned, his nose running, malcolm stares out of the window at the receding landscape. freeze frame.
each time a gate is locked his tension increases. his face is a mask hiding his fury, violence and the hunger of an advanced junkie who has not had a fix in over a week.
malcolm cannot answer because he truly does not know.
he cannot say anything and he drops his head, he is overwhelmed with heartfelt emotion.
malcolm and you are putting yourselves on the auction block, letting them examine you like a horse, like a slave. the honorable elijah muhammad teaches that you are black and should be proud.
malcolm . as elijah muhammad knows his problems.
malcolm is inspecting it.
he stares at her.
malcolm if the so-called negro were american citizens we wouldn't have a race problem. if the emancipation proclamation was authentic, you wouldn't have a race problem. if the 13th, 14th, and 15th amendments to the constitution was authentic, you wouldn't have a race problem. if the supreme court desegregation decision was authentic, you wouldn't have a race problem. all of this is hypocrisy. these negro leaders have been telling the white man everything is all right, everything is under control. and they've been telling the white man that mr. muhammad is wrong, don't listen to him. but everything mr. muhammad has been saying is going to come to pass is now coming to pass and now the negro leaders are standing up saying that we are about to have a racial explosion. we're going to have a racial explosion and that's more dangerous than an atomic explosion.
he cannot believe what he is hearing, but he must. the truth is before his eyes.
he knows what is coming.
click!
he looks at her. he thinks. he speaks.
malcolm is in deep thought as he drives.
it's as if he's frozen in his car.
malcolm has stopped in his tracks, like some unseen force has overcome him which prevents him from moving. malcolm is paralyzed.
he starts to rearrange his 3 x 5 index cards in his hands.
throws up his hands, grabs his chest and is knocked backward.
his eyes are glazed over.