Quentin Tarantino has written and directed some of the most indelibly iconic movie scenes in cinematic history. There’s the ear-slicing scene in Reservoir Dogs. The gory gimp rape in Pulp Fiction. The Crazy 88 massacre in Kill Bill. The fiendish flamethrower finale in Once Upon a Time in Hollywood…you name it. Yet, by Tarantino’s own admission, one unforgettable movie moment he authored possibly eclipses all else: The Sicilian Scene in Tony Scott’s True Romance, brought to vivid life and elevated to godly heights by Christopher Walken and Dennis Hopper.
For the uninitiated, The Sicilian Scene features a scintillating showdown between Hopper’s Clifford Worley and Walken’s Vincenzo Coccotti. Coccotti arrives at Clifford’s trailer in Detroit looking for Clifford’s son, Clarence, who inadvertently made off with Drexl Spivey’s suitcase full of cocaine. After blasting Spivy and his henchmen to death, Clarence and his bride, Alabama, plan on selling the coke to a Hollywood movie producer in Los Angeles.
Looking to get the cocaine back on behalf of his boss, Blue Lou Boyle, Coccotti’s confrontation with Clifford turns into a full-fledged interrogation and a battle of wits. The shift in power dynamics between the two during the scene is articulated through extraordinary dialogue, as only Tarantino can do, as Coccotti tests Clifford’s will and his testament regarding Clarence’s whereabouts.
When Coccotti tells Clifford that he can spot the 17 pantomimes a man has to betray his lies, Clifford turns the tables on Vincent by launching a historical diatribe about the Sicilians being conquered by the Moors and changing their bloodline forever. The writing, the acting, and the directing are simply beyond reproach, with Tarantino later admitting that he’s proudest of The Sicilian Scene than anything else he has created. At least, until he wrote the opening of Inglorious Basterds.
Believe it or not, Tarantino was inspired to write the scene after he overheard a similar real-life discussion. As Tarantino tells it:
“I had heard that whole speech about the Sicilians a long time ago, from a black guy living in my house. One day I was talking with a friend who was Sicilian, and I just started telling that speech. And I thought: ‘Wow, that is a great scene, I gotta remember that’.“
Supporting the sentiment, Tarantino confessed on the 2002 DVD commentary that True Romance was his most autobiographical movie. In the commentary, he also expanded on his feelings about The Sicilian Scene, stopping silent for the first time while watching the film in total awe and declaring:
“I think the case can be made that this scene is too good.”
Tarantino also recommended viewers check out Jack Cardiff’s 1946 movie The Long Ships to learn more about the historical relationship between the Moors and Sicilians.
Now, as brilliantly written as the Sicilian Scene is, it may shock some to learn that Hopper and Walken improvised two memorable lines on the spot. According to Hopper, he ad-libbed the “you’re part eggplant” line, and that it prompted the intuitive response, “you’re a cantaloupe.” Everything else was written by Tarantino and uttered verbatim. Hopper also said the whole scene was filmed in one day.
As Hopper puts it:
“The only lines Christopher Walken and I improvised in our big scene were my line, ‘You’re part eggplant,’ and his line, ‘You’re a cantaloupe.’ The rest was written by Quentin. Was I worried about the racial overtones? Not really. Because it’s factual. The Moors did invade Sicily, and they did breed. Quentin writes like people speak. He doesn’t have to be PC.”
The unexpected dose of levity breaks the tension and lightens the preceding intensity so well that it’s hard to imagine the eggplant-cantaloupe lines were improvised in the moment while filming. Yet, not only is it true, but Walken’s cantaloupe line is the one part of the scene that Tarantino has claimed he dislikes. He also mentioned how most movies could not survive such a great scene occurring as early in the story, before the midway point. Still, he remains as proud of the scene as any other he has written, including the movies he’s directed.
Far beyond Tarantino’s self-congratulating pat on the back, critics and audiences have extolled the lasting virtues of the Sicilian Scene time after time. On what would have been his 76th birthday, IndieWire listed Hopper’s best performances and singled out True Romance, calling The Sicilian Scene:
“One of the most beautiful tete-a-tetes in contemporary cinema, wonderfully written and made utterly iconic by the two virtuoso actors.”
Indeed, the scene is so well crafted and relentlessly enthralling from start to finish that even Tony Soprano (James Gandolfini as Coccotti’s henchman Virgil) can do nothing but watch, silently, with his jaw dropped, in the background as Clifford and Coccotti match wits and wiles.
Speaking of a pre-Sopranos Gandolfini, he was so inspired by watching the scene in real-time and witnessing Walken refuse earplugs during the shootout that he did the same. Alas, Gandolfini quickly regretted the decision after going deaf for the next three days.
While on the topic, Hopper was concerned that Walken was too close to him during the shootout that the prop gun’s barrel would burn his forehead. Tony Scott tried to calm Hopper down by demonstrating the sequence himself, ensuring it was completely safe. Nope. Scott put the prop gun to his forehead, but when the blank was discharged, the gun barrel extended outward and wounded Scott on contact, causing a bloody wound on his forehead that forced him to reconsider the prop and take another approach.
Of course, beyond Tarantino’s exquisite dialogue, what’s said between the lines by the actors through their faces, eyes, props, and body language speaks volumes and elevates the scene to unrivaled heights. At its core, the scene represents Clifford’s unwillingness to rat on his son, no matter what. To protect Clarence at all costs. When he knows that death is imminent, Clifford does not cower, but rather doubles down on his lie about Clarence’s whereabouts. Rather than die a slow, torturous demise at the hands of the mafia, Clifford fundamentally knows he must act in such a harsh manner that Coccotti will mercifully kill him and do so quickly.
Unable to act violently and defend himself physically, Clifford tells the Sicilian story knowing that it will insult and infuriate Coccotti to no end. Once Coccotti reveals he knows Clifford is lying, Clifford turns the tables with deliberate psychological head games and puts Coccotti on the defensive. The way this power dynamic is conveyed, subtly with top-tier nuance, by Hooper and Walken, is why the scene reaches the pinnacle of cinematic showdowns.
Notice how the scene begins with Coccotti standing over Clifford as if superior. The sequence starts with Coccotti looming over Clifford as the more powerful figure. This dynamic shifts once Coccotti sits down across from Clifford. They’re now on equal footing. Once Clifford realizes he will not survive this exchange, he asks for a Chesterfield cigarette, which he previously refused. The audience knows that Clifford has quit smoking for health reasons after conveyed such to Clarence earlier.
Calculating that he will die no matter what, Clifford smokes one last cigarette before delving into the Sicilian diatribe and the flagrant affront to Coccotti’s family lineage. How Hopper slaloms between instant fear, uncertainty, ultimate acceptance, carefree bravado, perverse glee, and back to sheer terror marks a tour-de-force performance for the ages. What he communicates between the lines of dialogue could never be written in the first place. Not even by Tarantino.
As for Walken, he too brilliantly shades Coccotti with radiant colors extending far beyond words. How he chews gum, fidgets with his scarf, casually cracks and eats pistachios, etc., instantly establishes the character. One early moment in the showdown comes off so naturally that it must have occurred by happenstance. As Coccotti gives his intimidating lecture on who he is and what Clarence has done with his narcotics, his seething menace is quickly dashed by embarrassment.
As he says, “They would have got away with it, but your son, the f*ck head that he is, left his driver’s license in the dead guy’s hand,” Walken awkwardly laughs and inadvertently spits during the speech and tries to wipe it away with the back of his hand. In a second flat, Coccotti goes from horrifying to humiliated, with Walken’s in-the-moment response adding a human moment that could never be scripted. Hopper says in the DVD commentary, “It looks like Chris and I are living and not acting here.” Walken reciprocated, “I started out as a dancer and Hopper and I really partner well together.”
Once Clifford lights his Chesterfield, Tony Scott wisely plays “The Flower Duet” from the tragic French opera Lakme over the fraught two-hander. The melancholic piano riff is timed perfectly and wells up as Clifford realizes death abounds, as if a requiem. As he goes into the Sicilian speech, the look on Coccotti’s face as he slowly understands the gamesmanship at play is another moment that heightens the scene independent of dialogue. From how Walken whispers Coccotti’s correction of Clifford’s pronunciation of Sicilian to how Hopper lights and drags Clifford’s final smoke with relish and resignation, the actors dramatically increase the moodiness of the music and sound design in the scene.
As Clifford asks, “If that’s a fact. Now tell me, am I lying?” Coccotti is stunned, bemused, insulted, and impressed by Clifford’s ballsiness all at once, and wears such a sheepish look that it indicates he knows that Clifford has outwitted him while at his most vulnerable. The blushing grin and forced laugh of amusement Coccotti bursts into as he looks back at his goons portrays how he hides his hurt and insecurities. The unspoken power shifts in the scene transcend the page, thanks to the pitch-perfect performances by Hopper and Walken that will live on forever.
Following his denuded pride, Coccotti overcompensates and shoots Clifford in the forehead, marking his first murder since 1984. There’s a brief moment when Clifford knows he’s about to be shot, where he winces in rueful terror for a split second, before resigning to his fate with ease and comfort, that again marks a natural performative moment that no words could as powerfully articulate.
In the end, Clifford sacrificed his life to protect Clarence and Alabama, maintaining his dignity throughout his violent demise. Short of harming or killing Coccoti, Clifford did the next best thing by injuring his prideful heritage and getting under his skin like no other. Clifford may be gone instantly, but Coccotti will be haunted by the truth about his lineage for the rest of his life.
Now, for a quick word on the late, great Tony Scott, arguably the most entertaining director this side of Spielberg. Hopper revealed in the DVD commentary that Scott lit the trailer set to shoot Walken’s side of the scene first. However, when Walken told Scott he was uncomfortable performing first, he asked to have Hooper’s part filmed instead.
Rather than forcing Walken to do the scene after more than two hours of setting up the lighting and camera blocking, Scott agreed to switch the setup and asked Hopper if it was okay. Hopper happily agreed to perform his part of the scene first, even if the director side of him was aggravated for having to wait another two hours to set up the shot. The point here is that, without Scott accommodating the creative process of these two all-time great actors, including having the patience to let the cameras roll and allow them to improvise an already brilliantly written sequence, The Sicilian Scene might not have ascended to such heavenly heights. That it was Scott’s first time working with Hopper and Walken makes the decision even more impressive.
As for Tarantino’s evolved view, he maintains that The Sicilian Scene is his second-favorite film sequence that he has ever written behind the Inglorious Basterds intro, retrospectively declaring:
“It was in my very first script, True Romance, it was the whole Sicilian speech. That was the one to beat.”
Yet, despite lifting the conversation from real life, Tarantino was somewhat embarrassed by how severely Walken treated the material by memorizing the three-page speech word-for-word.
“I almost got embarrassed the first time I saw the scene,” said Tarantino. “It was almost intimidating that such a terrific actor would take my work so seriously.”
Of course, to far lesser results, Tarantino gifted Walken a five-minute monologue in Pulp Fiction during Butch’s gold watch dream sequence, likely a direct result of how well Walken performed The Sicilian Scene in True Romance. While a genuine argument can be made that such a scene could never be done in Hollywood today due to its content, The Sicilian Scene remains one of the all-time best two-man tradeoffs ever captured on camera. It’s not just Quentin Tarantino’s most well-written scene, it’s arguably the finest hour by Christopher Walken and the dearly departed Dennis Hopper and Tony Scott.
