Wall Street
INT. GORDON GEKKO'S OFFICE (BUD'S POV) - DAY
Furnishings in hypermodern gray and black lacquer, Modern Art ranging from black field paintings by Ad Reinhardt to the smashed dishes of Julian Schnabel. Nautilus equipment, hi-tech gadgets are in evidence, including a splendid Howard Miller World Time Clock, and a world map...
Three of Gekko's people, young MBA's dressed for success, are scattered about the room, on phones, calculators, coming in and out.
GORDON GEKKO aka Gekko the Great as the media calls him, dressed in a custom English suit, paces on the phone with the restlessness of a caged tiger, a 50-foot extension cord attached to his blinking 130 line silver-plated telephone. On his ears is a headset.
GEKKO (on phone) ... what the hell is going on? I just saw 200,000 shares move, are we part of it, we better be, pal, or I'm gonna eat your lunch for you... get on 1. (switches lines) Sorry, love it at forty. It's an insult at fifty. Their analysts don't know preferred stock from livestock... (a beat, mischievous smile) wait for it to head south, then we'll raise the sperm count on the deal... right. Get back to me.... (to Alex, an aide listening an the other line) This is the kid that's called me 59 days in a row. Wants to be a player (to Bud) There oughta be a picture of you in
the dictionary under persistence. (back to phone) Look, Jerry, I'm looking for negative control, no more than 30 to 35%, just enouqh to block anybody else's merger plans and find out from the inside if the books are cooked. If it looks as good as on paper, we're in the kill zone. We lock and load pal...get on 3.
Gekko's dark intent eyes fixing briefly on Bud who stands waiting in the corner. He motions him to sit.
GEKKO (new line) Yeah, Billy, who's your buyer?... No, not interested. (eyes an Quotron, to Ollie, a trader) Ollie, start calling a the institutions, start with Marx at
Janson Mutual, then Reardon. Get me that California retirement money, baby! And
Furnishings in hypermodern gray and black lacquer, Modern Art ranging from black field paintings by Ad Reinhardt to the smashed dishes of Julian Schnabel. Nautilus equipment, hi-tech gadgets are in evidence, including a splendid Howard Miller World Time Clock, and a world map...
Three of Gekko's people, young MBA's dressed for success, are scattered about the room, on phones, calculators, coming in and out.
GORDON GEKKO aka Gekko the Great as the media calls him, dressed in a custom English suit, paces on the phone with the restlessness of a caged tiger, a 50-foot extension cord attached to his blinking 130 line silver-plated telephone. On his ears is a headset.
GEKKO (on phone) ... what the hell is going on? I just saw 200,000 shares move, are we part of it, we better be, pal, or I'm gonna eat your lunch for you... get on 1. (switches lines) Sorry, love it at forty. It's an insult at fifty. Their analysts don't know preferred stock from livestock... (a beat, mischievous smile) wait for it to head south, then we'll raise the sperm count on the deal... right. Get back to me.... (to Alex, an aide listening an the other line) This is the kid that's called me 59 days in a row. Wants to be a player (to Bud) There oughta be a picture of you in
the dictionary under persistence. (back to phone) Look, Jerry, I'm looking for negative control, no more than 30 to 35%, just enouqh to block anybody else's merger plans and find out from the inside if the books are cooked. If it looks as good as on paper, we're in the kill zone. We lock and load pal...get on 3.
Gekko's dark intent eyes fixing briefly on Bud who stands waiting in the corner. He motions him to sit.
GEKKO (new line) Yeah, Billy, who's your buyer?... No, not interested. (eyes an Quotron, to Ollie, a trader) Ollie, start calling a the institutions, start with Marx at
Janson Mutual, then Reardon. Get me that California retirement money, baby! And