Todays Buddy! Didn’t you just draw the short straw award – no. 8 – goes to Harry Ellis (Brilliantly realised by Hart Brochner), the cocaine snorting, smooth talking, yuppie from Die Hard. Under a special subsection “I drew someone else’s Short Straw!”.
What makes Harry the star that he is is that if he had kept his cocaine addled mouth shut, he might have lived. But he thought he could smug his way out of the situation by giving McClane over to “Bubby” Hans.
(Hans should have shot him alone, for calling him ‘Bubby!’).
He’s not the most PC either, referring to the Arab’s as ‘the camel jockey’s’ and the Jews as the ”hebe’s’.
The first time we meet Harry he is attempting what can only be described as a ‘hostile takeover’ on McClane’s wife at the Nakatomi Xmas party.
The first time McClane (a cop) lays eyes on him he’s snorting coke from Mrs McClane’s desk.
Harry gets in way over his head with the Terrorists as if he was negotiating a business merger.
As he says to McClane’s wife “Hey babe, I negotiate million dollar deals for breakfast. I think I can handle this Eurotrash….” Hilarious !!
ALL TURN at a rap on the door. Ellis is there.
ELLIS :
Hope I’m not interrupting…?
HANS :
(to Fritz) What does he want?
As Fritz shrugs:
ELLIS :
It’s not what I want, it’s what
I can give you. Look, let’s be
straight, okay? It’s obvious
you’re not some dumb thug up
here to snatch a few purses, am
I right?
Karl looks at Ellis and then at Hans, as if to say, let me plug
this asshole right now. But Hans is either amused of curious
or bored enough to shake his head, turn back to Ellis.
HANS :
(politely)
You’re very perceptive.
ELLIS :
(flattered)
Hey, I read the papers, I watch
60 minutes, I say to myself, these
guys are professionals, they’re
motivated, they’re happening.
They want something. Now, personally,
I don’t care about your politics.
Maybe you’re pissed at the
Camel Jockeys, maybe it’s the
Hebes, Northern Ireland, that’s
none of my business. I figure,
You’re here to negotiate, am I right?
HANS :
You’re amazing. You figured this
all out already?
ELLIS :
Hey, business is business. You use
a gun, I use a fountain pen, what’s
the difference? To put it in my
terms, you’re here on a hostile
takeover and you grab us for some
greenmail but you didn’t expect a
poison pill was gonna be running
around the building.
(smiling)
Hans, baby…I’m your white knight.
HANS :
(dryly)
I must have missed 60 Minutes. What
are you saying?
ELLIS :
The guy upstairs who’s fucking things
up? I can give him to you.
As Hans reacts with real interest for the first time, we:
CUT TO:
HANS VOICE :
(o.s., on CB)
Touching, cowboy, touching.
(pause)
Or should I call you Mister McClane?
Mister officer John McClane on the
NYPD?
McClane FREEZES. How much do they know?
MCCLANE :
(fighting to stay calm)
Sister Teresa in third grade called
me Mr. McClane. My friends call me
John Mac. You’re neither…shithead.
HANS VOICE:
I have someone who wants to talk
to you. A very special friend who
was at the party with you tonight.
McClane’s face falls. Oh, God. Eyes closed, he waits for the
voice that tells him it’s all over.
ELLIS VOICE :
Hello, John boy?
McClane’s eyes open, showing equal parts of shock and hope.
In the office, CAMERA ADJUSTS TO SHOW Ellis as Hans gives him
the CB.
MCCLANE :
Ellis?
Ellis has a cigarette, and a terrorist brings him a Diet coke.
ELLIS :
John, they’re giving me a few minutes
to try and talk some sense into you.
I know you think you’re doing your
job, and I can appreciate that, but
you’re just dragging this thing out.
None of us gets out of here until
these people can negotiate with the
LA police, and they’re just not gonna
start doing that until you stop
messing up the works.
MCCLANE :
(carefully)
Ellis, what have you told them?
ELLIS :
I told them we’re old friends and you
were my guest at the party.
McClane sighs, partially relieved. Hans meanwhile, narrows his
eyes.
MCCLANE :
Ellis…you shouldn’t be doing
this…
ELLIS :
Tell me about it.
He looks at Hans, who gives him a nod.
ELLIS :
All right…John, listen to me…
They want you to tell them where the
detonators are. They know people are
listening. They want the detonators
of they’re going to kill me.
Ellis gives Hans a big “ok” sign. Hans returns it.
ELLIS :
John, didn’t you hear me?
MCCLANE :
(to CB, quietly)
Yeah, I hear you, you fucking moron!
ELLIS :
John, I think you could get with
the program a little. The police
are here now. It’s their problem.
Tell these guys where the detonators
are so no one else gets hurt. Hey,
I’m putting my life on the line for
you buddy…
MCCLANE :
Don’t you think I know that! Put
Hans on! Hans, listen to me, that
shithead doesn’t know what kind of
scum you are, but I do —
HANS :
Good. Then you’ll give us what we
want and save your friend’s life.
You’re not part of this equation.
It’s time to realize that.
Saying this, Hans takes out his gun, points it at Ellis, smiling.
Ellis smiles, too.
ELLIS :
What am I, a method actor? Hans,
babe, put away the gun. This is
radio, not television…
MCCLANE :
That asshole’s not my friend!
I barely know him! I hate his
fucking guts —
(desperately sincere)
— Ellis, for Christ’s sake, tell
him you don’t mean shit to me —
ELLIS :
John, how can you say that, after
all these years–? John? John?
“Well, I tried…”
Hans nods understandingly. He takes the CB, presses the TALK button, and
in one frighteningly smooth motion brings the Walther up to
Ellis’ forehead and PULLS THE TRIGGER.
Poor Harry, he thought he could worm his way out of this situtaion but paid with his life. Well in the spirit of the Short Straw Award, we now present Harry Ellis with one under the “I drew someone’s Short Straw” subsection.
Harry…..Bubby! You’re our White Knight, we salute you!