Monday, October 8, 2012

Case Study No. 0571: Andy Love

1 of the funniest scenes from bronson!!!
Tags: Bronson
Added: 3 years ago
From: wtfdude03
Views: 112,238

[Andy Love, a librarian who delivers books to prisoners, enter the cell of "Charlie Bronson"]
ANDY LOVE: Morning, Charlie. Something to read?
[Charlie gives no reaction as he lies down on his bunk, while Andy puts a stack of books down on the table]
ANDY LOVE: We have, uh, got another Jimmy Cooper ... How do you get on without your Dorris Winns, then? That's very good.
[Charlie suddenly gets up and shuts the door]
CHARLIE: [pointing in Andy's face] Shut your fucking mouth!
ANDY LOVE: [nervously] No problem, Charlie ...
CHARLIE: Shut the fuck up, you cunt! Shut it!
[he turns to the door and yells out into the hallway]
CHARLIE: Right! I've got a librarian up here! And he's in a lot of trouble! So I think you should send someone up to help him out, don't you?
[the sounds of someone running down the hall can be heard outside the cell, as Charlie turns and calmly looks at Andy]
CHARLIE: [quietly] Um, siddown.
[Andy slowly moves to sit in the chair, but Charlie jumps up and points at him]
CHARLIE: [screaming] Not there, on the fucking gasket, you cunt!
[he quickly moves toward the toilet and sits, as Charlie begins fidgeting on his bunk]
CHARLIE: [quietly] What happens now?
ANDY LOVE: Uh, I ... I don't know.
CHARLIE: Well, I guess we'll just have to ... we'll have to wait.
[he puts his head down and starts mumbling to himself]
CHARLIE: Well, I can wait all day, all day anyway, I'm not going anywhere. Fucking, we'll just fucking wait. I can wait.
[a guard suddenly puts his hand through the hole in the door and hands Charlie a ringing telephone]
CHARLIE: [takes the phone and answers it] Hello?
[cut to the office of the prison warden, who is on the other end of the line]
WARDEN: Hello, Charlie. Can you hear me?
CHARLIE: [off camera] Course I can fucking hear you ...
[cut back to Charlie's cell]
CHARLIE: There's nothing wrong with my hearing, you cunt!
WARDEN: [off camera] What is it, Charlie?
CHARLIE: "What is it Charlie!" ... Well!
[cut back to the warden's office]
CHARLIE: [off camera] I am sat here with, ummm ... What's your name?
ANDY LOVE: [off camera] Love.
CHARLIE: [off camera] Love?!
[cut back to Charlie's cell]
ANDY LOVE: Uh, Andy Love ...
CHARLIE: [laughing] Oh, Andy Love, eh?
[cut back to the warden's office]
CHARLIE: [off camera] Right. I'm sat here up with Andy Love.
[cut back to Charlie's cell]
CHARLIE: [starts out talking calmly but ends up screaming] Well, I'm gonna snap his fucking neck and stick his head up his ass if I don't get what I want!
[cut back to the warden's office]
WARDEN: What do you want?
[cut back to Charlie's cell]
CHARLIE: What do I want? What have you got?
[cut back to the warden's office]
WARDEN: Well, that's entirely up to you ... isn't it?
[cut back to Charlie's cell]
CHARLIE: [calmly] We're done. You can fuck off, I've had it.
[he hangs up the phone and shoves it back through the door]
CHARLIE: [looking intently at Andy] Alright, Andy Love ... are you a family man?
ANDY LOVE: [nervously] Yeah.
ANDY LOVE: Uh, I got two kids.
CHARLIE: Two kids?
ANDY LOVE: [quietly] Yeah ...
[Charlie begins taking off his belt]
ANDY LOVE: Wh-what're you doing?
CHARLIE: What am I doing? What does it fucking look like I'm doing, you cunt?
ANDY LOVE: L-look, let's talk ...
CHARLIE: I'm done talking ... Fucking pointless!
[Andy begins taking off his clothes]
ANDY LOVE: Wait, uh ...
CHARLIE: Wait for what?
[Charlie takes off his underwear]
CHARLIE: Right, that's it!
ANDY LOVE: What're you gonna do now?
CHARLIE: What am I gonna do?
[he takes a crumpled-up piece of aluminum foil out from underneath his pillow]
CHARLIE: I'm gonna put my fucking body paint on, that's what I'm gonna fucking do! It's my body armor, alright? Fucking hell!
[Charlie opens up the aluminum foil, taking the "paint" inside and starts rubbing it all over himself]
CHARLIE: Let's have it!
[he points to the aluminum foil sitting on the bunk]
CHARLIE: Go on and get some of that rubbed on my back, you cunt!
CHARLIE: [screaming] Get it on my fucking back now, rub it in, you slag!
[fearing for his life, Andy starts rubbing paint on Charlie's back]
CHARLIE: Go on, rub it in! That's right, we ain't got all day! Rub it right down my back, go on! Down my back and my legs! Back of my legs and my ass, on my ass cheeks! On my ass ...
[Andy hesitates, so Charlie begins screaming]
CHARLIE: Bloody on my ass, you fucking homo! On it!
[Andy begins to furiously rub the paint in]
CHARLIE: On it! Quickly! Quicker, quicker, quicker, quicker, quicker, quicker, quicker, quicker, quicker, fuck off! Sit down! In the corner! Don't move, cunt!
[Andy does as he's told]
CHARLIE: Now hang onto your feelings, alright? Cause it's gonna get fucking hairy!
[police barge in and grab Charlie]
CHARLIE: [trying to fight them off] Fuck off, you cunts!
[he knocks a few out, but they eventually overpower him and carry him out of the cell]



Bronson (2008)

Tom Hardy as Charles Bronson / Michael Peterson
Jonny Phillips as Prison Governor
Mark Powley as Andy Love / Friendly Screw

In 1974, a hot-headed 19 year old named Michael Peterson decided he wanted to make a name for himself and so, with a homemade sawn-off shotgun and a head full of dreams he attempted to rob a post office. Swiftly apprehended and originally sentenced to 7 years in jail, Peterson has subsequently been behind bars for 34 years, 30 of which have been spent in solitary confinement. During that time, Michael Petersen, the boy, faded away and 'Charles Bronson,' his superstar alter ego, took center stage.

He becomes involved in several fights with guards, thus extending his sentence. The character of his violent outbursts starts to become more sophisticated. At one event he holds the prison librarian hostage before stripping naked and greasing himself up to fight riot officers. One of the prison officers is heard to say "If you continues this, you will die here." He becomes interested in art, which the prison officials think is a good way to develop his interacting skills with other human beings. Eventually this project gets out of hand when Bronson holds his art teacher hostage, ties him to a pole, puts an apple in his mouth and paints the man's face.



I've seen a number of reviews about Bronson – the film about Charles Bronson, dubbed "Britain's most famous prisoner" – including the piece written by Erwin James on this site, and heard a variety of people debate the pros and, no pun intended, cons of the movie. However, I have yet to read a review or hear an opinion from anyone who actually knows Bronson, or who worked with him during the period that this film is set, and so I hope that my connection to him and to the events that the film suggests that it dramatises is excuse enough to put pen to paper.

After all, the film is keen to claim that it is "based on a true story", and yet there has been no attempt to understand the film based on what is true and what is imagined, in much the same way that few wish to question what is true about Bronson, the various myths that have grown up around him and to which he has contributed, and all of which have undoubtedly added to his celebrity status. The fact that I watched the film in Milton Keynes – in a cinema no more than 10 minutes' drive from HMP Woodhill, the prison where I got to know Bronson – seemed to add a reality to me, even if what I watched on the screen was nearly always imagined and partial.

Mention of HMP Woodhill will make those who know something about the penal system immediately think about the two special units which are located there and which I helped to design and then manage. They were, and still are used to house the 12 most disruptive prisoners in England and Wales, and here's the thing – Bronson was not located there at all. Instead he was in the segregation unit, and typical of him, he consistently resisted any attempt to work with him so that he might have been able to move out of the segregation unit and onto normal location, or indeed into a special unit at the jail. Only one person wanted Bronson to be in solitary confinement – Charles Bronson.

It didn't take long to realise that Bronson didn't actually want to be on normal location because he couldn't survive there. By this I mean that being "normal" was exactly what Bronson didn't want – he wanted to be "extraordinary". His entire focus was centred on creating a sense of difference that normality would have stifled and killed. As his character says at the beginning of the movie "my name is Charles Bronson and all my life I've wanted to be famous". Only one of those statements is true, and of course "famous" and "normal" do not make good bedfellows.

Even if my primary responsibilities were to the prison's special units, I saw Bronson regularly enough in the segregation unit. When I went there I'd ask if he was OK, and say that I was concerned that he was locked up by himself. On one memorable occasion he waited for me to visit, and when we opened his cell door he had stripped naked and covered his entire body with black shoe polish. He then threatened to "stab me with his moustache", and told me to "fuck off". I did. Over time we would negotiate with each other about giving him a radio, having exercise in the yard, and about making certain that he had access to books in return for his good behaviour – in other words, not assaulting any of the staff. He did indeed take the librarian hostage who came to deliver those books that we negotiated over, and as Bronson names him so will I – the librarian is called Andy Love, although he was not, as the film suggests, a prison officer. Andy is a decent man, who believes passionately in helping prisoners to learn to read, and I occasionally still see him at the prison that he moved on to after the hostage incident ended.

I was the governor who acted as hostage commander during that incident, and I hope that I was nothing like the rather suave, detached, chain-smoking, balding, bespectacled and calculating character who, for example, refused to take one of Bronson's pictures when it was offered, although I have to say his drawings, unlike a great deal of prison art, are infantile and hardly worthy of any scrutiny at all. Of course I might have been calculating – or appeared so to him – but I am not bald, bespectacled and I have certainly never smoked.

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