Chapter Text
A BLACK SCREEN.
The white hum of a crackling microphone plays as the screen FADES INTO view, crackling with SIXTIES GRAIN.
INT. LOCKHEED PRIVATE JET - DAY
A closeup on JAMES BOND (34) plays across the screen - a shot for-shot remake of a scene from Goldfinger (1964).
He slowly stirs awake.
The blurry outline of PUSSY GALORE (38) pulls into focus.
She leans down towards Bond, a sly smile creeping across her beautiful face.
Bond blinks, confused.
BOND
Who are you?
The camera cuts back to Pussy.
PUSSY
My name is Pussy Galore.
Bond looks away and smiles slightly.
BOND
I must be dreaming.
The two stare at one another for a long beat.
Bond feels his side.
BOND (CONT’D)
I thought I’d wake up dead!
Pussy pulls out a pistol, pointing it at Bond.
PUSSY
Tranquilizer gun. Knockout shot.
BOND
I see. Well, I’m delighted to be here.
Bond smiles lecherously at Pussy.
Pussy sets down her gun, turning away.
BOND (CONT’D)
And, uh, by the way: where is here?
Pussy leans down to look out a window.
PUSSY
Thirty-five thousand feet, flying south-west over Newfoundland.
BOND
Well, that explains the humming.
Pussy circles back around to face Bond.
PUSSY
The humming means you're on Mr. Goldfinger’s Lockheed JetStar, heading for Baltimore. And you’re his guest.
BOND
I am honored. I never realized he enjoyed my company that much.
PUSSY
I don’t suppose it will all be fun and games.
(towards off-screen)
Mei Li!
MEI LI (26) - a beautiful, young Chinese woman wearing a ridiculously “Oriental” styled skirt and top - steps forward from a nearby counter.
She bows slightly.
MEI
Can I do something for you, Mr. Bond?
BOND
Uh, just a drink. A martini...shaken, not stirred.
Mei bows politely, returning to her station.
Bond watches her walk away, eyes lingering on her rear. He pivots his chair to look at Pussy.
BOND (CONT’D)
Won’t you join me?
PUSSY
Not on duty. I’m Mr. Goldfinger’s personal pilot.
BOND
You are? And, uh, just how personal is that?
Pussy’s expression shifts to anger. Her eyes flash with disappointment.
PUSSY
I’m a damn good pilot. Period.
BOND
Well, that’s good news. And by the way...where is our host?
PUSSY
He flew on ahead.
Mei returns from the back of the plane with Bond’s martini, served on a golden platter.
BOND
Thank you.
He stares at her rear again as she turns and walks away. Bond turns to watch Pussy as she studies a black clipboard. Her expression is irate.
Bond sips his drink.
BOND (CONT’D)
Well, here’s to Operation Grand Slam.
Pussy frowns, hanging the clipboard back on the wall.
Ignoring Bond as he creepily stares at her, she opens the door to the plane’s cockpit.
BOND (CONT’D)
This should be a memorable flight.
Pussy stops in her tracks, swiveling around.
She flashes a fake smile.
PUSSY
You can turn off the charm. I’m immune.
The camera pauses on Pussy as she stands in the doorway - a FIRST DEVIATION from the original film.
The film’s grain begins to LIFT, DISSIPATING across the screen. The colors grow more vibrant, yet realistic - faded yellows turning white.
A PHONE RINGS.
Pussy’s eyes widen slightly. She turns and enters the cabin.
PUSSY (CONT’D)
Excuse me...I believe I have a call.
She opens the door to the cockpit, closing it gently and locking it behind her.
CUT TO:
INT. LOCKHEED PRIVATE JET - COCKPIT - DAY
Pussy presses her back against the entryway, letting out a HARSH SIGH OF RELIEF. She’s gotten away from the bastard.
Rubbing her hand across her forehead, she looks to her copilot, LYNNE BOUCHER (28) - a beautiful Black woman with a beehive haircut.
LYNNE
He giving you a hard time?
PUSSY
Hardly.
Pussy leans forward to pick up the phone, pressing it against her ear with a sour expression.
GOLDFINGER (V.O.)
Goldfinger to Lockheed, is this Pussy Galore?
PUSSY
Yes, Mr. Goldfinger. It’s Pussy.
She delivers the name with a hint of contempt, visibly irritated.
GOLDFINGER (V.O.)
Where the bloody hell are you broads? I’ll have you know that jet cost a fortune. A fortune!
Pussy gently pulls the phone a couple inches away from her face, her jaw clenching as her boss shouts at her.
GOLDFINGER (V.O.)
I give you one job and one job only - and here you are, messing it up in my plane like some kind of dumb b-
PUSSY
Mr. Goldfinger...
She cuts him off.
Pussy’s eyes flick towards Lynne, who glances back for a split second, keeping her eye on the sky ahead.
PUSSY (CONT'D)
Mr. Goldfinger, I’m afraid that is quite enough.
GOLDFINGER (V.O.)
What?!
Lynne turns to Pussy in shock. Pussy takes a deep breath, straightening her posture.
She speaks sternly and confidently into the phone.
PUSSY
I’ll have you know I’ve had more than enough with your kind talking to us like that. My name's not Pussy, it’s Shirley - Helen Shirley - and it’s of my humble opinion that the likes of you simply no longer deserve our collective talents.
GOLDFINGER (V.O.)
Why you-
“Helen” immediately interjects.
HELEN
Now if you’d like to find your man, I believe we are about six hours on course from our initial takeoff. You can find him yourself if you’re so eager to disrespect both me and my crew.
GOLDFINGER (V.O.)
But-
HELEN
No buts! I’ve reached my limit. The same goes towards your compatriots, too. Have a splendid afternoon, Auric. Goodbye.
She slams the phone down forcefully, much to Lynne’s shock.
Lynne sits there, staring at Helen with the plane’s controls set on autopilot.
Helen takes a deep breath.
HELEN (CONT’D)
Lynne...I’d like you to take us around. Get us down as close to the water as you can. Preferably near dry land.
LYNNE
Are you sure?
HELEN
Damn right, I’m sure. Now hurry!
CUT TO:
INT. LOCKHEED PRIVATE JET - DAY
Helen storms back into the seating area, making a beeline towards James.
JAMES
Is something the -
HELEN
Get up.
JAMES
What?
HELEN
I said, get up.
James looks confused.
Helen pulls out her pistol.
Standing to his feet, James puts up his hands, glancing between Helen and “Mei”.
HELEN (CONT’D)
Betsy?
“Mei” - now revealed to be BETSY LINGYU - blinks, surprised by Helen’s use of her real name.
BETSY
Yes?
HELEN
Grab the inflatable raft. We’re throwing him overboard.
Betsy’s eyes widen.
BETSY
Might I ask...what for?
She opens one of the compartments near the ceiling, pulling out an emergency backpack.
HELEN
I’m sick and tired of dealing with all of these men. I suppose you could call it - “taking out the trash.” We’re low enough, it won’t kill him.
Betsy nods, handing the backpack to James.
Still pointing the gun at his head, Betsy motions him towards the airplane’s entrance.
JAMES
You’ve done a terrible job at your kidnapping operation, I’m afraid.
HELEN
Save it for someone that cares, Bond.
James looks almost hurt. He pauses.
JAMES
We could make an arrangement?
HELEN
I’m done making arrangements with scoundrels. Pull the lever.
JAMES
I just-
HELEN
PULL THE LEVER, JAMES BOND.
JAMES
Alright!
He opens the hatch, the wind immediately sucking them in. He braces himself, grasping the edges of the doorframe as Helen and Betsy grab hold of nearby furniture.
JAMES (CONT’D)
I really do think you ladies are making quite the mistake.
Helen narrows her eyes, as if taking it as a challenge.
HELEN
I think we can deal with it.
She keeps the pistol pointed in his direction.
HELEN (CONT'D)
One.
James looks at Helen, then at the ocean outside.
CUT TO:
EXT. ATLANTIC OCEAN - DAY
The plane hovers a few dozen feet above the water, dangerously low in altitude.
CUT TO:
INT. LOCKHEED PRIVATE JET - DAY
James turns back to look at Helen, a look of conflicting emotions on his face.
Helen keeps her eyes narrowed.
HELEN
Two.
A long beat...
HELEN (CONT’D)
Three.
James LETS GO of the frame, hurtling down towards the ocean. He lands with a loud SPLASH.
Helen grapples her way towards the exit, reaching forward to close the plane door.
HELEN (CONT’D)
Betsy, help pull this shut!
Betsy rushes over to help, and the two manage to slam the hatch shut.
They both stumble back, breathing heavily.
A beat.
HELEN (CONT’D)
Lynne?
LYNNE (V.O.)
Yes?
HELEN
Pull us up.
LYNNE (V.O.)
Yes, Pussy.
HELEN
And Lynne?
Lynne rounds the corner, having set the airplane on autopilot again.
LYNNE
Yes?
Helen pauses, choosing her words carefully.
HELEN
I go by Helen Shirley from now on. Between you and me, I think it's Goldfinger who's the real pussy.
LYNNE
You got it.
Lynne rushes back to the cabin as Betsy watches on, stunned. Helen takes a deep breath, then gives Betsy a sly smile - playful and authentic.
HELEN
Care for a Martini?