Raging Bull

“In the merciless ring of life, the fiercest enemy is often within. Experience the rise and fall of the ‘Raging Bull’.”

Watch the original version of Raging Bull


There was a whispering stillness in the grandeur of the boxing ring, set alight by a thousand anticipatory eyes— like the calm before a storm, a pregnant pause that held an entire night’s worth of grit, sweat, and unsaid prayers. This was Jake LaMotta’s sanctuary, a platform of both redemption and damnation; his ultimate lover, his fiercest rival. Away from the blinding lights, outside the rapturous chorus of clenched fists and bated breaths, there was a part of LaMotta that lay bare, reserved for an audience of one.

**Chapter One: Dancing With Shadows**

In the labyrinth of sprawling tenement blocks that made up the Bronx, no one acknowledged the lingering cold of winter quite like Jake LaMotta. Fingers numbed down to their bones, he found solace in the ring. He trudged through the icy streets, pallid skin kissed by winter’s chill, body buried under layers of worn-out clothing. The howling wind played a symphony exclusively for him— a tribute to his unyielding spirit. It was in the disarray of this Bronx neighborhood, the son of an impoverished Italian immigrant, Jake LaMotta, found his calling.

The gymnasium was his haven, a place where his pent-up rage could be channeled into something that felt productive, necessary even. The worn-out canvas under his feet, the coarse ropes that caged him in, the cold, leather-clad punch bags that bore the brunt of his wrath were all intimates in his journey toward self-discovery. Boxing wasn’t just a sport; it was Jake’s language, his testament to surviving the trials of life with his fists clenched tight.

He bobbed and danced around the ring— a precarious ballet of muscle and sinew underpinned by a staccato rhythm of raw, unfiltered aggression. Each punch he threw was a retort to the echoes of his past, morphing his frustrations into a physical, all-consuming entity. Jake was a natural, his technique unrefined, his spirit unbreakable. The more he fought, the more he was at home in the chaos — a rare, raw talent born out of desperation and despair.

The bouts were brutal, a spectator sport for the disheartened, the hungry, and the desperate. Jake fought like a man possessed, his blows harsh and unrelenting, earning him a reputation as an unyielding, obstinate force in the ring. His fierce spirit was unmatched, his victories symbolizing a man who’d clawed his way out from the depths of destitution and onto the pedestal of local legend.

But, the victory was a mere illusion—a false sense of security that masked the turmoil within. Despite the superficial triumphs, Jake was merely a puppet, dancing to life’s discordant tune. His private life was a far cry from the wild adulation he received in the ring. It was a paradox that left him teetering on the precipice of self-destruction.

This seismic dissonance reverberated in the shanty where the LaMotta family huddled together. What should’ve been a retreat from the harsh world outside was instead an extension of the relentless battlefield of his life. Jake’s volatile temperament was as much a part of him as the fists he used in the ring, and it was in these confined spaces that it often found an outlet. The echoes of his anger, frustration, and unbridled rage painted their tiny home in shades of unease and trepidation.

Yet, amid this tumultuous storm of violent bouts and stifling silence, Jake found solace — a tiny sliver of hope in the form of a woman who would unknowingly change the course of his life. Vickie was a beacon that lured Jake into uncharted waters. She was an anomaly in his life – bright, vivacious, and full of dreams. Her radiance was particularly stark against the grim backdrop of Jake’s existence.

Their whirlwind romance was a dance of two polar forces, an unlikely union between a beleaguered brawler and a damsel dreaming of freedom. Their love was a tempestuous mix of passionate extremes and painful compromises. It was the beginning of a journey that would take Jake to the pinnacle of success and the abyss of failure, ultimately shaping a legacy that would echo through the annals of boxing history as that of the Raging Bull.

Chapter Two: The Vanguard of Violence

As Jake LaMotta set foot in the ring, the hush enveloping the spectators was almost tangible. The ring, that square bastion of controlled brutality, had become his sanctuary. Fist tightly sheathed in gloves that bore the texture of battles fought and won, he carried in his heart the rage of a thousand storms and on his shoulders, the story of every underdog.

His rise to the top was meteoric. LaMotta was not just a boxer; he was a symbol, a manifestation of the primal instinct to fight, a representative of the paradox hidden within the heart of human endeavor, the vanguard of violence.

His technique in the ring was unlike any other. Each jab was a wolf’s snarl; each cross, a leopard’s pounce; each hook, a bear’s maul. He was a raging tempest trapped in the form of a man, and when the bell rung, that tempest was unleashed. His opponents, strong men in their own right, would quake in their boots at the sight of his primitive brutality. No one could stand against the Raging Bull.

With every victory, there was an increase in fame, glory and his namesake – rage. His legend grew, attracting the attention of the mob, the media, and the masses. Yet, the more accolades he collected, the deeper into his personal hell he descended. For with every punch, every fall, every blow, a piece of him got lost in the ring, absorbed by the blood-soaked canvas.

His battles were not limited to the boxing ring. The scars weren’t merely physical but etched deeper into his psyche. Like a warrior from times old, he carried his aggressive nature everywhere, from the streets of Bronx to the confining walls of his home. The ring was an extension of his world, and uncurbed anger, his constant companion.

LaMotta soon became a household name. His flaming blood-red robe and fiery temper were talked about in hushed whispers and loud cheers across America. Yet, the same ferocity that crowned him in the ring gradually started to gnaw away at his life outside it.

While the public saw a champion, a titan, a raging bull, they were oblivious of the furious storm brewing inside him. Jake LaMotta, the hard-hitting champion and masculine idol, was unravelling. His fame, instead of being a soothing balm, served as a reckless enabler, exacerbating the fury within him.

The media, always ravenous for the next big story, feasted on his achievements. They turned a blind eye to his volatile private life, the brewing tension, the untamed jealousy, the unchecked paranoia. The man, Jake LaMotta, slowly disappeared, shadowed by his alter ego, the Raging Bull. The monster he was inside the ring, he was becoming outside.

His struggles were fierce, his life outside the ring more chaotic than the battles he fought within. His choice was simple: to conquer or be consumed. Yet, the paradox was that the more he tried to conquer – his opponents, his fame, his life – the more he was consumed.

The chapter closes, leaving the reader perplexed, anxiously turning the page, craving the next round in the tumultuous tale of Jake LaMotta, the Raging Bull. He was a man teetering on the edge of oblivion, haunted by internal demons, yet still standing tall, a champion in the brutal ballet of boxing.

Chapter Three: The Keeper of Chaos

Jake LaMotta, the acclaimed ‘Raging Bull’, found himself standing at the precipice of an abyss that was his tumultuous marriage. His wife, Vickie, was like a summer storm – beautiful, unpredictable, and at times, destructive. Initially, her vivacity had been a beacon, drawing Jake out from the harsh winter of his own nature, but now, she was the undertow in an already turbulent ocean whipped up by the winds of Jake’s seething jealousy.

The fact that Vickie was a head-turner was no secret. Her presence commanded attention, and Jake found himself lost in the kind of jealousy that breeds from a cocktail of extreme love and pulsating insecurity. She was his, but he still fought to keep her as if they were two contenders in a never-ending boxing match – but this one with more at stake than a simple title.

Their marital regime was a battleground, with Jake using words as jab and hooks, leaving scars far deeper than any physical ones. Accusations of infidelity danced on his tongue more often than words of love or endearments, spilling over the corners of their marriage, staining it a bruised purple. Each syllable of distrust was a punch landing on the canvas of their relationship, slowly chipping away at the foundation they built together.

Unbeknownst to Jake, his obsession with winning every single round in this domestic boxing match was gradually fracturing their relationship. Vickie was no pushover, but the constant suspicion wore her down, with each incident leaving her more broken than the one before.

There was a particular evening where the chaos had reached a fever pitch. Jake had stormed into their home, his eyes wild with anger and a dangerous kind of jealousy. “You’ve been with him, haven’t you?” he’d accused, his voice as sharp as razors. “You’ve been playing around while I’m fighting in the ring.”

It didn’t matter who “he” was; the accusations were as baseless as they were vague. Vickie had been at home, carrying out her daily life, all while walking on the eggshells that Jake’s volatile temper laid around the house. Nevertheless, she stood her ground, her voice trembled but her spirit did not break. “I have been here, Jake, waiting for you!” she snapped back, her eyes welling up with frustration and a brewing storm of her own.

Silence ensued, a thunderous silence that filled the room with an acrid tension. Jake’s rage simmered on the surface, but for once, he held it at bay. The collateral damage of his words was visible in Vickie’s eyes, and she met his stormy gaze with a defiance that few could muster. It was a silent proclamation – she was no punching bag.

As Vickie’s spirit rose, the ‘Raging Bull’ stood in the middle of their war-torn living room, staring at the woman he loved – a woman he was slowly losing to his jealousy and paranoia. He wanted to pull her close, to apologise, to reassure her that he trusted her, but words failed him.

The rounds seemed endless in the match between Jake and Vickie, each one leaving them more battered and bruised than the last. And while Jake was hailed as a champion in the ring, within the confines of his home, he was only a man locked in a fight he didn’t know how to win.

The violence that Jake channeled in the boxing ring shadow-boxed him in his personal life. The ‘Raging Bull’ that roared in the face of his competitors whimpered in the face of his failing marriage. As his suspicions sabotaged his world outside the ring, Jake realized too late that while he knew how to fight, he didn’t know how to love. As the ‘Keeper of Chaos’, Jake was ruling a kingdom teetering on the brink of war, a war where there would be no winners—only broken hearts and shattered dreams.

Chapter Four: When the Gloves Come Off

As his fists smashed forward, beating opponents into submission within the ring, Jake LaMotta was a force to be reckoned with. He was a man driven by a primal desire to win, to prove his dominance over every adversary that dared to challenge him. His relentless training, his undying grit, and his steadfast determination had all culminated into an invincible boxer with an indomitable spirit. He was the Raging Bull, and inside the ring, he was a king.

However, outside the ring, the raging bull was tamed and shackled by his own misgivings.

At home, the walls were not built from roaring crowds and hanging lights, but from silence and secrets. Secluded from the world, LaMotta found himself dwelling in the contrived tranquility, drowning in his own suspicions and the incessant paranoia. A knot of jealousy gnawed deep within his gut, festering, breeding contempt. But the subject of his jealousy wasn’t an opponent in the ring, but rather his own wife, the vivacious Vickie.

Vickie, with her twinkling eyes and ivory smile, was as beautiful as she was enigmatic. A flame among embers, drawing admirers like so many moths. Her charm was intoxicating, a fatal elixir that LaMotta could not help but drink from, despite knowing the venom it held. His imagination, once his ally, now painted vivid pictures of Vickie in the arms of another man. Each whispered word, each lingering glance, each untouched plate at dinner – all served as evidence to his jealousy.

No longer was he the raging bull, but a wounded animal, his pride gnawed on by the vulture of suspicion. His bouts of rage outside the ring didn’t match the strategy and finesse of his boxing, but rather reflected the uncontrolled chaos brewing inside him. His house, once a haven, now seemed like a battlefield, every corner echoing with unsaid accusations and simmering resentment.

Vickie, on the other hand, found herself walking on eggshells. Her once confident stride was replaced with hesitant steps, cautious of the looming tempest. The man she had married for his fierce spirit now scared her with his unpredictability. LaMotta, blinded by his insecurities, failed to comprehend the fear radiating from his wife, only fueling his notion of her hypothetical disloyalty.

On one fateful night, his jealousy reached its boiling point. Confronting Vickie with his insecurities, LaMotta let his rage flow unabated, creating a storm of accusations. The innocent house was transformed into a boxing ring, where words replaced fists and accusations served as crippling blows. Vickie, caught off guard, found herself against the ropes, defenseless against his bitter words and burning glares. His paranoia had let loose an ugly monster, one that threatened to rip apart their marriage.

Without the gloves, without the roaring crowd, without the satisfaction of a knockout punch, LaMotta was more dangerous than ever. He was a boat in the midst of a storm, thrown around by waves of doubt, his anchor of trust slipping away. It was a brutal bout, one without a winner, where love morphed into suspicion, and victory tasted like defeat.

‘When the Gloves Come Off’ paints a vivid sketch of LaMotta’s internal struggle, highlighting his transition from the revered boxing champion to a man grappling with his own demons. LaMotta was a man who fought his hardest battles not in the ring, but inside his home, against the shadows of his own jealousy. This chapter serves as a reminder that sometimes, the fiercest opponent one has to fight is not another, but oneself.

Chapter Five: A Bitter Taste of Victory

The resounding echo of the crowd’s cheer filled Jake LaMotta’s ears, signaling the pinnacle of his career. The sweat-laden ring, the bright floodlights, and the exhilarating adrenaline rush – it was the epitome of his life’s aspiration. He stood victorious, now the middleweight champion of the world. But the taste of victory was bitter, tainted with the corrosive flavor of personal turmoil.

His professional success did little to pacify his escalating insecurities. The same brutal and ruthless fighter in the ring was now emerging in his personal life, a consequence of his increasing obsession with Vickie’s fidelity. Every man in her vicinity became an enemy combatant, every innocent conversation a clandestine affair.

His paranoia became so consuming that LaMotta began to see shadows where there were none. The constant suspicions, accusations, and confrontations began to draw frightening parallels between the man he was in the ring and the man in his home. His existence was now a ceaseless fight, even outside the boxing ring.

Simultaneously, LaMotta’s success in boxing attracted dangerous admirers – the mob. The forbidden enticement of the underworld was a hushed whisper in the boxing circles, but its pull was as real as the punches he threw. He found himself caught in a web of illicit dealings, his life a precarious balancing act between legality and criminality.

The beautifully tragic irony was not lost on him. Here he was, on top of the world, a beacon of success, a symbol of the American dream. Yet, his life was spinning wildly out of control, teetering on the edge of a precipice. He was a puppet, his strings pulled by his inner demons, the nefarious mob, and the obsessive suspicion gnawing at him.

His violent outbursts at home were an eerie mimicry of his fights. Vickie found herself in the boxing ring far too often, bearing the brunt of his unfounded jealousy. Her beautiful face, once full of love and warmth for him, now reflected apprehension. LaMotta was drowning in a maelstrom of his own making, pulling Vickie in with him.

It was during this turbulent period that the infamous ‘Miami Fight’ took place. A fight rigged by the mob to favor Jake, a strategy tarnishing his hard-earned victory. The fight was a dance of shadows and deceit, mimicking the farce that his life had become.

After the fight, LaMotta couldn’t help but confront the reality of his situation. He was a puppet champion, his title tarnished by the underhanded dealings of the mob. He was a monstrous husband, tormenting his wife with accusations and violence. He was the ‘Raging Bull,’ not only in the ring but also in his life.

The chapter closes on a poignant note, with LaMotta gazing at his championship belt, a symbol of his professional victory and personal defeat. The taste of success was bitter, a grim reminder of the price he paid for it. Stripped of his ignorance, LaMotta was beginning to see the tragic path his life had taken – a path marred by paranoia, violence, and unspeakable choices.

As the audience roared and the floodlights blazed, the middleweight champion found himself fighting his most formidable opponent yet – himself. The roar of the crowd reverberating in his ears was no longer a cheer; it was the deafening echo of his internal war. The bright floodlights no longer illuminated his path to victory but cast long, harrowing shadows over his tumultuous life.

In the middle of the ring, the ‘Raging Bull’ stood, victorious yet defeated.

Chapter Six: Tangled Ropes

The chapter opens on a defeated Jake LaMotta, standing alone in the ring, the deafening cheers of the crowd now faded into mere echoes. The renowned Raging Bull, once an embodiment of unbeatable strength, now dethroned, his middleweight championship belt ripped away from his grasp. This isn’t just a physical defeat, but a mental and emotional one, leaving LaMotta grappling with the harsh reality of his loss.

Outside of the ring, his world is in shambles. His paranoia about Vickie’s fidelity spirals out of control, spreading like wildfire through their home. The man who had once stood tall against his opponents now saw enemies in the shadows of his own house. His eyes, once full of fiery determination, are now tormented with suspicion and doubt.

His obsession turns into violent outbursts, hurting Vickie both emotionally and physically. The love that they once shared is now hidden under layers of fear, pain, and mistrust. The home that should have been a sanctuary from the outside world becomes a battleground for LaMotta’s inner demons.

The syndicate, who’d once supported his boxing career with their nefarious dealings, begin to distance themselves. The mob had never been his ally, but a necessary evil. As he loses his grip on the championship and his life spirals into chaos, even they find him too unpredictable, too unreliable, and pull their strings off the Raging Bull.

With no ring to conquer, no crowd to appease, LaMotta turns to alcoholism. The poison seeps into his veins, numbing him, offering a sweet escape from the torment of his losses. His once svelte and muscular body transforms due to his reckless lifestyle, turning soft and lethargic under the effects of alcohol and the lack of rigorous physical training.

He attempts to salvage what remains of his life by opening a nightclub in Miami. The club is his desperate attempt to hold onto his past glory, to remain in the spotlight even when the boxing ring has dimmed. Alas, his venture, like his boxing career, is plagued by self-sabotage. His inability to let go of his violent tendencies leads him to assault a patron, leading to his arrest.

In a poignant scene, LaMotta is seen behind bars, alone and disgraced. The once-celebrated boxer is now a fallen star, his fame and glory lost in the dark abyss of his own making. Wrestling with his conscience, he bangs his forehead against the concrete wall of his cell, a punishing act of self-flagellation. The man who had once been invincible in the face of his opponents now realizes his biggest nemesis was not across the ring, but within him.

Tangled Ropes is a grim chapter in LaMotta’s tumultuous journey. It’s a stark portrait of the man battling his inner demons, struggling to make sense of his life. It’s a dark descent into the abyss of self-destruction, a compelling narrative of a man born to fight but lost in his own battles.

LaMotta’s story is a powerful exploration of a human being’s capacity for self-destruction. His struggle is a grim reminder of how one’s strengths can become weaknesses, how triumph can turn into defeat, and how a hero can become his own villain. This chapter heralds the end of the Raging Bull’s reign, only to set the stage for his redemptive journey in the final chapter.

Chapter Seven: The Aftermath of an Avalanche

The familiar incandescent glow of the New York lights drowned everything in their wake. Jake LaMotta, once a semblance of raw, unstoppable power, now found himself navigating the labyrinth of his past mistakes.

The world outside had moved on, but LaMotta seemed caught in a time warp. He was no longer the ‘Raging Bull’ – the hurricane force that would prowl the boxing ring with a terrifying, animalistic intensity. He had long ago lost his title, shed the sinewy muscles that marked him a warrior, but the real defeat was far more profound, far more internal.

The boxing ring no longer served as his battleground. Instead, his demons sought him out in the shadows of his own mind, in the silence that echoed through his empty home. Memories of fights, victories, and losses mingled with the cacophonic echoes of domestic violence, shouting matches, and shattered dishes.

Though his body bore scars from decades in the ring, it was the unseen wounds that hurt the most. His relationship with Vickie, once a tempestuous dance of passion and anger, was long over. He was left clutching onto the fragments of that shattered bond, haunted by the ghost of her laughter, her tears, her terror.

His children, the innocent victims of his tumultuous life, had drifted away, their love for their father eroded by years of witnessing his self-destruction. They now lived their lives at a safe distance from his chaos, their protective barriers firmly in place.

LaMotta’s life had transformed from a violent whirlwind of action to a quiet desert of regret. His once grand house now felt more like a mausoleum, its walls echoing the ghosts of his past.

His attempts to reconcile with his past had been as futile as trying to capture smoke with his bare hands. Some nights, he’d stare at the old photographs, the newspaper clippings of his former victories, and the shiny, now meaningless, belts that testified to his former glory. They were stark reminders of what had once been, triggering a cascade of ‘ifs’ and ‘buts.’

Life had dealt him heavy blows, and unlike in his boxing days, he hadn’t dodged any of them. His involvement with the mob, his relentless jealousy, and his uncontrollable rage had all taken their toll, demarcating the path of his downfall.

LaMotta, the man who lived his life in extremes, was now left grappling with the fact that his two worlds could not exist simultaneously. His physical prowess, so laudable in the ring, was abhorrent in regular existence. He hadn’t known how to douse the fire when he left the ring, causing him to scorch everything he touched.

His vulnerability lay bare, exposed. He was a man who had soared to great heights, only to plummet into the deepest abyss of despair and regret. The ‘Raging Bull’ may have been a cherished champion in the boxing world, but Jake LaMotta, the man behind the moniker, was a tragic figure, broken by his own rage.

For the world, he was a symbol of victory, of triumphant strength. But for those who bore the brunt of his anger, he was a symbol of terror.

In the end, the same traits that elevated him to stardom were what led to his downfall. The violence that had once roared in the boxing ring had seeped into his life, wreaking havoc on his relationships, his family, and ultimately, himself.

Jake LaMotta was the perfect embodiment of a paradox – a hero in the ring and a villain in his own story. He was the ‘Raging Bull,’ a man who once stood atop the world but was now trapped in the avalanche aftermath of his own making.

And now, he was left in the dust and debris of his past, attempting to navigate his way through the ruins of his life. Society had moved on, but LaMotta remained, stuck in a relentless cycle of regret and self-pity. A fallen champion, grappling with the ghost of his past, with the weight of his mistakes – that was the real Jake LaMotta. A man who was both the maker and the destroyer of his world.

His story served as a stark reminder of how personal and professional lives can become entangled and how the actions in one arena can echo painfully in the other. Jake LaMotta, the ‘Raging Bull,’ will forever remain an enigmatic figure – a symbol of raw power, human weakness, and the tragic consequences of uncontrollable rage.

Some scenes from the movie Raging Bull written by A.I.

Scene 1



A group of rowdy kids play stickball on the street. Amongst them is a young JAKE LAMOTTA, a fiery, aggressive boy showing the slightest hints of a would-be boxing champion.



A small, run-down apartment, full of loud and chaotic ITALIAN FAMILY members. JAKE’S FATHER, an imposing figure, berates Jake for fighting in the streets.



In the ring, not on the streets!



The sounds of PUNCHING BAGS and SPEED BAGS fill the dingy gym. Jake is in the corner, throwing punches with raw natural talent. His trainer, RAY, watches from a distance, an impressed smile playing on his lips.



You’ve got the moves, kid.



I’ve got more than moves.

The camera focuses on Jake’s determined eyes, hinting at the onslaught of hardships and victories his future holds.


Scene 2


Jake LAMOTTA (20s, built like a bull, scarred knuckles) steps into the ring. The CROWD roars. Across him, his OPPONENT snarls. He’s bigger, but Jake’s eyes are fiercer.


In the blue corner, the terror from the Bronx, ‘Raging Bull’ Jake LaMotta!

The crowd CHEERS even louder. Jake barely reacts, his focus on the opponent. The BELL RINGS.


Jake is relentless, brutal. His opponent is no match for him. His gloves land one punch after another. Finally, the OPPONENT goes down. The crowd ROARS. Jake merely breathes heavily, victorious but not joyful.


Jake enters a messy apartment, bruised and bloody, but a victor. He’s greeted by VICKIE (20s, brunette, beautiful but hard) who winces at his sight.


You won?




When will you stop this, Jake? This ain’t a life!

Jake, tired, steps closer to Vickie. He takes her face in his battered hands, his eyes hint at an internal battle that’s far from over.


This is the only life I know, Vickie.



Scene 3



JAKE LAMOTTA (40s, physically imposing, a ticking time bomb) paces in the dimly lit room. VICKIE (30s, strikingly beautiful yet tired-eyed) sits on the couch. Jake’s EYES are on her, intense, distrusting.


(raises a photo of a handsome man)

Who is he, Vickie?


(sighs, looks away)

The grocer’s son, Jake.


You think I’m stupid?

Vickie meets his gaze, challenging.


No, Jake. You’re not stupid, just paranoid.

Jake throws the photo, it SMACKS against the wall. He’s breathing hard.


(dangerously calm)

I don’t trust him around you.


(stands, defiant)

You don’t trust anyone around me!

A tense silence. Jake stares at Vickie, a dangerous energy simmering in his gaze.



Jake, in the heat of a match. MISPLACED ANGER fuels his punches. The electricity of the fight contrasts sharply with the domestic tension of the previous scene.



Jake enters, exhausted, bruised. Vickie is gone. An envelop lies on the table. He opens it to find DIVORCE PAPERS, a symbol of his failing struggle to conquer his personal life.


Scene 4


Jake LaMotta (JAKE), a burly boxer and his wife, VICKIE, a striking beauty, sit across from each other at their kitchen table. The tension is thick, a visible force between them.


Jake, are you okay?

Jake looks across at her, his eyes darkened by suspicion and anger.


Why wouldn’t I be?


You’ve been acting strange lately…

Jake’s hands clench in his lap beneath the table, unseen.


Maybe it’s because my wife has been coming home late every night.

Vickie raises her eyebrows, taken aback by the accusation.


I’ve been with friends, Jake.

Jake scoffs, pushing his chair back abruptly to stand.


Friends, huh?

He moves to the kitchen counter, keeping his back to Vickie, obscuring his face from her.


Yes, Jake…

There’s a long silence.


I don’t believe you.



Jake is pacing, his hands shaking as he runs them through his hair. Vickie enters the room, her eyes wary.


Jake… we need to talk.

But Jake isn’t ready to talk. He turns to Vickie, his anger palpable.


Scene 5


A roaring CROWD. LaMotta lands a brutal right hook. His opponent falls.


And LaMotta is the new middleweight champion of the world!

LaMotta raises his fists, soaking in the adoration. The crowd is chanting his name.



LaMotta, in a slick suit, is the star of the evening. His eyes shine with victory but his hands shake.

Across the room, glamorous VICKIE, catches his eyes. She’s surrounded by men, laughing at their jokes. His jealousy begins to UNFOLD.



LaMotta is pacing, Vickie watching him warily from the couch.


Who was that man you were talking to?


Just a friend, Jake.

LaMotta’s jealousy boils over. He throws a glass against the wall. Vickie flinches.


You’re not loyal to me!


You’re being ridiculous, Jake.

LaMotta’s rage is mirrored in Vickie’s fear. The boxing champ is slowly becoming the domestic tyrant.



LaMotta meets with a MOBSTER. His desperation is evident.


Throw the next fight, Jake. You owe us.

LaMotta is cornered, by his own mistakes, by his own paranoia and his own fear.



The scene ends with a promise of darkness. The champion’s fall has just begun.

Author: AI