A scenes 14a - 18 omitted 14a

 

 

19 EXT. WALL STREET - DAY (MAY `87) 19

 

An express bus pull up -- its sign reads "Wall

Street"....

 

JORDAN (V.O.)

--I headed to the only place that

befit my high-minded ambitions...

 

Jordan emerges, kisses TERESA goodbye, then joins a sea

of Commuters heading to work.

 

JERRY FOGEL (PRE-LAP)

You are lower than fucking pond

scum.

 

 

20 INT. L.F. ROTHSCHILD - BULLPEN - DAY (MAY `87) 20

 

Computers, telephones everywhere. At their desks, 45

shirt-sleeved BROKERS read their Wall St. Journals,

readying for war. Like an eager puppy, Jordan follows

broker JERRY FOGEL, 30, thick-lipped and bow-tied...

 

JERRY FOGEL

You got a problem with that?

(reads name tag)

Jordan?

 

JORDAN

Nope. No problem at all.

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JERRY FOGEL

Your job is `connector', which

means you'll be dialing the phone

over 500 times a day, trying to

`connect' me with business owners.

And till you pass your Series 7,

that's all you'll be doing. Sit.

 

Jordan takes a seat at the desk next to Fogel's.

 

JERRY FOGEL (CONT'D)

Just so you know, last year I made

over 300k and the other guy you'll

be working for made a million.

 

JORDAN (V.O.)

A million dollars? I could only

imagine what a douchebag that guy

must be.

 

A manicured hand lands on Jordan's shoulder. It's MARK

HANNA, 30s, charismatic, movie-star handsome.

 

MARK HANNA

Jordan? Mark Hanna.

(re: Fogel)

Good, you've met Jerry. One of

the smartest guys in the office.

Who's ever sucked a dog's cock out

of loneliness.

 

Fogel's smile turns to a frown. He hands Jordan a stack

of 3x5 index cards.

 

JERRY FOGEL

Smile and dial. And don't pick

your fucking head up till one.

 

MARK HANNA

Don't mind Jerry, his father raped

him as a child. Besides, I'm

senior broker here, he's a

worthless piker. I heard you

pitched stock at your job

interview.

 

JORDAN

Had to do something to stand out.

 

MARK HANNA

I fuckin' love that! Let's grab

lunch later. Windows good with

you?

 

JORDAN

Great. Yeah.

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Hanna gives him a wink, looks at the clock on the giant

electronic stock ticker encircling the room -- 9:30 a.m.

 

MARK HANNA

Let's fuck!!

 

RING!!! Absolute pandemonium at the BELL signalling the

opening of the stock market. Feet fly off desks; Brokers

and their Connectors dial phones like mad. The CAMERA

PUSHES IN on JORDAN, mesmerized as he takes in the ROAR.

 

BROKER #1

(to Broker #2)

Miniscribe's a fuckin' steal!

Thirty eight bucks a share!

 

MARK HANNA

(into headset)

Your broker in West Virginia?

What are you buying, a coal mine?

It's the 80s, the game is high-

tech.

 

BROKER #2

(to Broker #3)

Fuckface! I got 50,000 July 50s!

 

JORDAN (V.O.)

You want to know what money sounds

like? Visit a trading floor on

Wall Street. Fuck this, shit

that. Cock, cunt, asshole. I

couldn't believe how these guys

talked to each other--

 

Fogel notices Jordan sitting there frozen. He covers his

mouthpiece, kicks the desk violently.

 

JERRY FOGEL

Dial the cocksucking phone!

 

Jordan snaps out of it, starts dialing.

 

JORDAN (V.O.)

I was hooked within seconds.

 

Mark Hanna slams down his phone in victory, scrawls out a

"buy" ticket. He places the ticket into a glass cylinder

which he slips into a plastic pneumatic tube.

 

JORDAN (V.O.)

It was like mainlining adrenaline.

 

The tube is WHOOSHED into the ceiling and we're suddenly--

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21 INT. WINDOWS ON THE WORLD - DAY (MAY `87) 21

 

CLOSE ON a COKE SPOON whose contents disappear up a

nostril. PULL BACK TO REVEAL...

 

The lunchtime power spot with panoramic views of the

city. At a corner table, a paranoid Jordan looks around

as Hanna does another bump of coke. None of the other

DINERS seem to notice or care.

 

MARK HANNA

(offering the spoon)

Got enough for one more? Tootski?

 

JORDAN

No. Thanks though.

 

Hanna slips the vial into his pocket as HECTOR, the

tuxedoed Maitre'D, approaches.

 

HECTOR

Mr. Hanna, what can I bring for

you on this glorious afternoon?

 

Hanna surreptitiously palms Hector a $100; Jordan

notices.

 

MARK HANNA

Here's the game plan, Hector.

Bring us two Absolut Martinis

straight up. Precisely seven and

a half minutes after you deliver

those you'll bring two more, then

two more every five minutes until

one of us passes out.

 

HECTOR

An excellent strategy, sir.

 

JORDAN

Actually, I'm good with 7-Up.

 

Jordan might as well have farted at the table.

 

MARK HANNA

First day on Wall Street, Hector.

Give him time.

(Hector offers menus)

No thanks, I'm not eating.

 

Hector heads off.

 

JORDAN

You can get high during the day

and still function?

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MARK HANNA

High is the only way to do this

fucking job. Guy who coined the

term "three-martini lunch" was a

woman. Cocaine and hookers, my

friend, the keys to success.

 

Jordan smiles, not sure if Hanna is kidding.

 

JORDAN

I gotta say, I'm really excited

about being part of your team.

I wanna do all I can for our

clients and --

 

MARK HANNA

(reciting an ad)

"Here at L.F. Rothschild, our

clients aren't just important,

they're family." Just as long as

we get our taste first. Remember

something, Jordan, your top

priority in this job: make us

money. If the clients get rich

along the way, bully for them.

Got a girlfriend?

 

JORDAN

Wife. She cuts hair.

 

Mark swallows a comment about that. Gets to business.

 

MARK HANNA

OK, first rule of Wall Street.

Nobody -- and I don't care if

you're Warren Buffet or Jimmy

Buffet -- nobody knows if a

stock's going up, down or fucking

sideways, least of all stock

brokers. But we have to pretend

we know. Make sure you stay

relaxed. Nobody wants to buy

something from someone who sounds

like they haven't gotten laid in a

month. Take breaks when you feel

stressed, jerk off if you can.

You like jerking off, right?

 

JORDAN

Well... sure.

 

MARK HANNA

Good, jerking off is key. And I

highly recommend cocaine, which

will make you dial faster, which

is good for me. Churn `em and

burn `em, baby.

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A BUSBOY stops by with a fresh napkin for Mark who thanks

him. Then, discreetly as possible, Mark removes a fresh

vial of cocaine tucked within and takes a quick snort.

Jordan realizes: that's why he palmed the maitre d' $100.

 

JORDAN (V.O.)

For the next six months I learned

the ways of Wall Street.

 

 

22 INT. STRIP CLUB - NIGHT (OCT `87) 22

 

As STRIPPERS grind in b.g, Jordan parties with Mark Hanna

and dozens of BROKERS and TRAINEES. Jordan sips a

martini and studies Mark Hanna, hitting on a STRIPPER.

 

JORDAN (V.O.)

That fall I passed my Series 7.

Finally it was here.

 

 

23 INT. ROTHSCHILD BUILDING - LOBBY - DAY (OCT `87) 23

 

Briefcase in hand, Jordan boards the elevator with a

dozen other BROKERS.

 

JORDAN (V.O.)

My first day as a stockbroker, a

future Master of the Universe.

 

And as the doors close, on screen WE SEE:

 

OCTOBER 19th, 1987

 

 

24 INT. L.F. ROTHSCHILD - BULLPEN - DAY (OCT `87) 24

 

Total chaos. Jordan dials the phone as all around him

Brokers panic, screaming into headsets.

 

JORDAN (V.O.)

They called it Black Monday.

By four p.m. the market was down

508 points, the biggest one-day

drop since the crash of `29.

 

4 p.m. The closing bell RINGS; the entire place goes

silent. Brokers look at each other, stunned.

 

MARK HANNA

Holy. Fucking. Shit.

 

And as the Brokers start commiserating with each other...

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JORDAN (V.O.)

L.F. Rothschild, a company that

had been in business since 1883,

closed its doors within a month.

 

 

25 INT. JORDAN & TERESA'S APARTMENT - KITCHEN - DAY (DEC `87) 25

 

Jordan sits at the table perusing the Times classifieds.

Teresa approaches with two coffees. Sits next to him.

 

TERESA

So I'll take an extra shift, don't

worry about it.

 

JORDAN

You work too much as it is.

 

TERESA

We could pawn my engagement ring.

 

JORDAN

We're not pawning anything. I'm

gonna be a millionaire, Teresa.

 

TERESA

You know that doesn't matter,

right?

 

He smiles, kisses her. Together, they peruse the ads.

 

JORDAN

(points to an ad)

"Nobody Beats the Wiz". I could

be a stock boy.

 

TERESA

You're a stock broker.

 

JORDAN

No one's hiring brokers right now,

sweetie.

 

They go back to the ads. After a few beats, she points--

 

TERESA

This place is.

 

 

26 EXT. STRIP MALL - PARKING LOT - LONG ISLAND - DAY (DEC `87) 26

 

In a suit, Jordan emerges from an `85 Datsun. He looks

around confused, heads toward an unmarked storefront.

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27 INT. INVESTOR'S CENTER - DAY (DEC `87) 27

 

The antithesis of L.F. Rothschild, with cheap furniture

and a dozen misfit "BROKERS" giving loud, obnoxious sales

pitches. Jordan enters, a modern man among cave people.

DWAYNE, slovenly, 35, with a walrus mustache, looks up.

 

JORDAN

I'm looking for Investor's Center?

 

DWAYNE

That's us, hey. Dwayne.

 

JORDAN

(as they shake hands)

Jordan Belfort, I called earlier.

I was a broker with Rothschild.

 

Dwayne motions Jordan to a seat. Nearby, a Broker in

ratty Keds, TOBY WELCH, is screaming into his phone.

 

TOBY WELCH

I'm tellin' you, this stock is

goin' up!... Cause I know,

okay?!... I have inside

information!

 

Jordan looks at him, appalled at what he's hearing.

 

JORDAN

Where are your quotrons?

 

DWAYNE

No quotrons, we sell off the pink

sheets -- penny stocks.

 

Dwayne slides Jordan a large thin book; its pages are

literally pink. He explains as Jordan flips the pages:

 

DWAYNE (CONT'D)

Company don't have enough capital

to be listed on NASDAQ, their

shares trade here.

(points to the book)

Like these guys, Aerotyne? They

make radar detectors out of a

garage in Dubuque.

 

JORDAN

Six cents a share? Who buys this

crap?

 

DWAYNE

Schmucks mostly. Mailmen,

plumbers, people thinking they can

get rich quick. They answer our

ads, Popular Mechanics, Hustler.

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JORDAN

The spread on these is huge.

 

DWAYNE

So's your commission, that's the

point. Blue chips stocks you get

what, one percent? Pink sheets

are fifty.

 

JORDAN

Wait a second. You're telling me

if I sell two thousand dollars

worth of stock, my commission is a

thousand bucks?

 

DWAYNE

Technically, yeah, but not even

the biggest schmuck buys two

thousand dollars of this shit.