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Films >> Summer of Sam (1999) >>

0:00:01 Jimmy Breslin's Introduction of the Film
Jimmy Breslin: Hello, ladies and gentlemen, boys and girls. My name is Jimmy Breslin. I am a writer. I write about New York, the city of my birth, where I've lived and worked all my life -- the city that I love and hate both equally. Today things are much different. Business is booming up, up, and up. Crime is down, down, down. Homicides are the lowest it's been since 1961. Well, it wasn't always like this. This film is about a different time, a different place -- the good old days -- the hot, blistering summer of 1977. There are 8,000,000 stories in the naked city, and this was one of them.
0:30:11 Berkowitz's Letter to the Police
(Berkowitz voices the letter as a multitude of images are shown on screen . . .)

Dear Sir:

I am deeply hurt by the newspaper calling me a woman
hater. I am not. But I am a monster.
I am a little brat. I am the 'Son of Sam.'
Sam loves to drink blood. 'Go out and kill,' commands father Sam.
'Behind our house some rest. Mostly young --
raped and slaughtered -- their blood drained --
just bones now.
Papa Sam keeps me locked in the attic too.
I can't get out. When I look out the attic window and
watch the world go by.
I feel like an outsider. I am on a different
wavelength then everybody else -- programmed
to kill.
However, to stop me you must kill me.
I am the 'Monster' -- 'Beelzebub' -- the chubby
behemoth. I love to hunt. Prowling the streets looking
for fair game.
It must be the water they drink. I live for the hunt --
my life. Blood for papa.
Sir, I don't want to kill anymore. No sir, no more but I must, 'honor
thy father.'
I want to make love to the world. I
love people. I don't belong on earth. Return
me to yahoos.
I want to wish all of you a happy Easter.
May God bless you in this life and in the next.
And for now I say good-bye and goodnight.

Police, let me haunt you with these words:
I'll be back! I'll be back! To be interpreted as --
bang, bang, bang, bang.

Yours in murder,
Mr. Monster.
0:51:39 Berkowitz's Letter to Jimmy Breslin
(Flies Buzzing)
Newscaster: Daily News columnist Jimmy Breslin received a letter today from the ".44 Caliber-Killer." Police said that the hand-written letter, addressed to Mr. Breslin, contained numerous occult symbols, was signed by the madman himself, calling himself 'The Son of Sam.'
Berkowitz: Son of Sammmmmmmmmm!
(Berkowitz voices the letter as a multitude of images are shown on screen . . .)
Hello from the gutters of NYC, which are filled with dog manure, vomit, stale wine, urine, and blood.
Hello from the sewers of NYC which swallow up these delicacies when they are washed away by the sweeper trucks.
Hello from the cracks in the sidewalks of NYC and from the ants that dwell in these cracks and feed in the dried blood that has settled into the cracks.
Mr. Breslin, sir, don't think because you haven't heard from me for a while that I went to sleep. No, rather, I am still here. Like a spirit roaming the night. Thirsty, hungry, seldom stopping to rest; anxious to please Sam.
I love my work. Now the void has been filled. He won't let me stop killing until he gets his fill of blood. Tell me, Jim, what will you have for me July 29?
Not knowing what the future holds, I shall say farewell and I will see you at the next job. Or should I say you will see my handiwork at my next job?
P.S. Please inform all the detectives working on the case that I wish them luck. Keep them digging, drive on. Think positive. Here are some clues to help you along. The Duke of Death, The Wicked King Wicker. The 22 Disciples of Hell. John Wheaties, rapist and suffocater of young girls.
In their blood and from the gutter -- ‘Sam's Creation' .44 Caliber
The Son of Sam.
1:37:26 Another Letter . . . And a Message From Harvey
(Berkowitz voices the letter as a multitude of images are shown on screen . . .)
Berkowitz: July 29, 1977. This is a warning to all police agencies in the tri-state area. For your information, a Satanic cult has been instructed by their high command, Satan, to systematically kill and slaughter young girls of good health and clean blood. Executioners of the cult . . .
(Voice-over ends and the on-screen Berkowitz begins to speak. He is punching a hole in the dry-wall of his apartment. While simultaneously voicing the words, Berkowitz writes the following around the hole with magic marker . . .)
Berkowitz: Hi. My name is Mr. Williams (panting) and I live in this hole. I have several children who I'm turning into killers.
(Dog barking.)
Berkowitz: Wait till they grow up.
(Barking continues.)
Berkowitz screaming to Samuel Carr: No! Shut that dog up! No! (Grunting.)
Harvey enters.
Berkowitz: (Panting.) No! How can this be! I thought I killed you, Mr. Black Dog.
Harvey: (Barking.)
Berkowitz: How did you get in here? Leave me alone! What do you want?
Harvey: I want you to go out and kill. Kill. Kill! KILLLLL!
Berkowitz: (Whimpering.) Okay Mr. Black Dog. I will kill. I will. I'll do anything you say. I'll do anything you say! Yes, Master. I will kill. I WILL KILL!
2:14:30 Jimmy Breslin's Conclusion of the Film
(Dog barking.)
Jimmy: Of all the things, a parking ticket did "Son of Sam" in. On July 31, 1977, he shot his last two victims. An eyewitness noticed a parking ticket under his windshield as he sped away. Of the four tickets issued in that area, one bore the name of David Berkowitz, a resident of Yonkers New York. At first Berkowitz claimed insanity, saying a 2,000 year-old dog named Harvey told him to do it. Eventually, he pled guilty. That sick fuck is serving a sentence of six consecutive terms of twenty-five years to life. Of course, the New York Yankees won the world series against the L.A. Dodgers . . . led by Reggie Jackson's dramatic three consecutive home runs in the sixth and deciding game. Elvis Presley died. 3,700 were arrested during the blackout with damage going into the hundreds of millions. To no one's surprise, most of the destruction took place in Brooklyn, Harlem, and The South Bronx. ‘77 was also one of the hottest summers in memory in New York City. New York -- the city that I love and hate equally. There are 8,000,000 stories in the naked city . . . and this was one of them.