the usual suspects

THE USUAL SUSPECTS 12 INT. LINE-UP ROOM 12 The five men are ushered into the room in front of a white wall painted with horizontal blue stripes. Each has a number at either end to denote the height of the man in front of it.

Between these lines are thinner blue lines to tell the specific height in inches.

Bright lights shine on all of them. They squint, eyes adjusting.

Keaton leans forward a bit and looks at the men in line with him. He shares a look of familiarity with Fenster and then McManus. Hockney smiles at all of them.

MCMANUS (to Keaton) Where you been, man?

VOICE (O.S.) SHUT UP IN THERE. Alright, you all know the drill. When your number is called, step forward and repeat the phrase you've been given. Understand?

The men all nod.

VOICE (O.S.) (CONT'D) Number one. Step forward.

Hockney takes a step forward. He looks directly into a mirror on the other side of the room. It is three feet square and we can make out faint light behind it. It is a two-way. He speaks in a complete dead-pan.

HOCKNEY Hand-me-the-keys, you-fucking-cocksucker.

VOICE (O.S.) Number two. Step forward.

McManus steps up and makes a gun with his thumb and forefinger. He mocks criminal intensity, pointing at the mirror. He camps up his line.

MCMANUS Give me the keys, you motherfucking, cocksucking pile of shit, or I'll rip off your VOICE (O.S.) KNOCK IT OFF. Get back in line.

McManus steps back.

The rest of the men do their bit as Verbal speaks.

VERBAL (V.O.) It was bullshit. The whole rap was a setup. Everything is the cops' fault.

You don't put guys like that in a room together. Who knows what can Â