All language subtitles for Duckman - 4x01 - Dammit, Hollywood-ing

(duck quacks)

Jump, Lickety-Split, jump!

Yay! Yay!

I told you he could do it!

You said you'd call it off
if he jumped.

Gimsy, we're scrapping the plans
for the oil dump

and from now on,
we don't do anything

environmentally unfriendly.

I know it'll cost billions

but this is a debt we
owe to a little girl

and to a very
special marlin.

DUCKMAN:
That's it?!
That's all there is?!

Boo! It sucks! Lo-o-oser!

Anybody here
got some tartar sauce?

Miserable moron!

What a creep.

Thanks a lot, duck.

A tad judgmental, aren't we?

On the bright side

they hit you harder
in Little Princess.

Duckman,
maybe going to the movies

has lost some
of its allure for you.

I have to admit,
even I was surprised

when you ran up
and urinated on the screen

screaming
"Swim in this, Lickety!"

Hey, it's an
interactive culture.

Try and keep up.

Besides, I have a right
to be P.O.'d aplenty.

You see a movie called

Lickety-Split's
Oily Adventure,

you expect a little...
well, let's just say

my very special
marlin came up dry.

What's gagging
this googleplex?

Where's the sex
and violence
Bob Dole promised?

Well, I'm one
webbed waddler

who's weary of
walking away whipped.

I'll get my money back,
or annoy everyone trying.

Patrick Henry, right?

Are you the manager?

No, I beat him senseless
with my bare hands

then dumped his
cement-laden body

into a nearby lake

just so I could
wear his name tag.

You're an odd
little man

but you got a way
with a witty retort.

I'm here to demand
a refund!

Sorry, no refunds.

Says right on the back
of your ticket stub

there's still no proof that
our nacho cheese topping

causes genital herpes.

I'm talking
about your movies!

If I wanted
to pay good money

for two hours of blather
and no sex, I'd date.

Sir, I don't
make the movies.

I just unlock the doors
and make sure the ushers

put sawdust in
the vomit puddles.

If you really want
your money back,

perhaps you
should complain...

(muffled laughter)

to the president
of the studio.

Hey, that may be a
ridiculously stupid idea

but there's no reason
I have to know that.

Pizza delivery?

Hell no!
I'm an anonymous movie-goer

who's so angry
at a movie I just saw

there's no telling what I'll do
to the president of this studio

after I sneak into his office.

I mean... yes.

Go on in.

Like I want
all the details.

I'm a shark now,
driven by one purpose--

getting my money back.

Undeterred by the distractions
of a major Hollywood studio,

unwavering, unblinking in my...

Ooh. Earl Holliman.

And look! Lauren Tewes.

Oh, no. Could it be?

Philip Michael Thomas!

Gangway, Gramps,
I got the fever!

I can't believe I actually met
the black Ghostbuster!

And what a lovely
bunch of people

this Hollywood crowd
seems to be.

I don't care what anybody says.

They deserve all the awards
they give themselves.

Oh. Right. My refund
for the swill we get force-fed

by these
no-talent panderers.

Whoa, whoa, whoa.

You can't fire me.

I'm Paradox Prexy
Sammons Cagle.

Besides, if I were

going to lose my job,

it'd say so here,
front page.

"Wassershein Rankles,
Cagle Ankles.

"Studio Head Rolls.

Paradox Drops
Pay Cagle Idea."

Do you ever listen to yourself?

Actually, I have someone
who does that for me,

but he's out today;
he's Bar Mitzvah or something.

Cagle, you nearly
broke this studio

and you know why?

Because you don't
love movies.

They're not about deal-making.

They're about magic.

They're about glamour,

and you have no idea
what these words mean.

It's 9:55.

As of 10:00, if you want
to come back on this lot,

take the tour.

Hey, hey, Stan!
Five minutes?

That's barely enough time

to come up with a story line
for the next Adam Sandler movie.

How dare he talk to me like
some kid from the mailroom?!

I haven't worked in the mailroom
since January.

I should give the keys
to his little kingdom

to a real incompetent.

That'd show him.

Heads up, people. Idea time.

I'll give
a huge production deal--

creative control, final edit,
ironclad-- to a complete idiot.

He'll blow millions
of Wassershein's money.

It'll ruin the studio!

I have the authority
to do it till 10:00,

which gives me two minutes

to find
the world's biggest moron.

But where? Where? Where?!

I'm Duckman,

and I just saw
a steaming load you dropped

called Lickety-Split.

It should've been rated
"P.U.-13."

I want my seven
clams back.

Not that they'll be
the same seven clams.

I know they'll
be different ones.

I'm sure my seven clams
were really $6.75

in Cracker cereal
bonus bucks

and a SweeTart
I passed off as a quarter,

but there's a
principle here!

And if I knew what it was,

you can be damn sure
I'd be hearing about it.

So, if you don't do
whatever it is

I came in here to get you to do,

I'll launch
the most frivolous lawsuit

you and your fancy
20-buck-an-hour lawyers

have ever seen!

Can you write?

Your name, I mean?

Oh, no, you don't.

I make it a rule
never to sign anything

until my Ecuadorian
business manager

can look it over
in his cell.

Sign it, or my foot soldiers
will destroy you!

Okey-doke.

Mr. Duckman, you are now
Paradox's newest mogul.

You have the power
to determine trends and tastes

for an entire nation--
to expose your ideas

to a world eager
for any kind of guidance.

In short, Mr. Duckman,

you are a
Hollywood god!

(maniacal laughter)

(steam engine hissing)

Good luck, Dad.

Make us proud.

Or at least try not
to humiliate us.

Yeah, that's
what I meant.

I want to videotape
this moment.

Now, which is "play"
and which is "re..."?

WOMAN ON TAPE:
Hey, you sick yuck,
wipe this stuff off of me

or it's an extra 50.

(chuckling):
It, uh, came with the camera.

Until I send for you,

pretend to listen to
your Aunt Bernice, boys.

And remember, thanks to these,
you'll always be with me.

Pictures of us?

No, your savings bonds.

I need them for tips
in the bar car.

(whistle blowing)

Come on, Corny, I call
the upper berth!

I'll wear my rain hat.

(hissing and chugging)

So long, boys.

Good-bye, Dad!
Bye-bye.

Yeah, bye.

Adios. Bye.
Good-bye, Dad.

I'm Paul Golden,
Senior VP, production

and third-generation
Hollywood hanger-on.

Though I didn't write, direct,
edit, shoot or perform

in anything at all,
I'm solely responsible

for our 12 biggest
movies last year.

Hired the assistant
who hired the reader

who found the script,
the usual back story,

and might I add, though no one
here has ever heard of you,

your deal is the biggest
any of us have ever seen.

And therefore, there's no one
whose work we respect more.

GOLDEN:
Here's your office.

Wow! This is
an amazing office!

Duckman, be careful.

Hollywood's past is
littered with people

who got taken in by all
the opulence and fawning,

then were changed by it
and forgot about the things

that were really important
in their lives.

Corny, you old
worry warthog.

I'll never sink so far
into this world

that I'll forget the things
that are important to me,

like my children,
Ajax, Charles and Jumanji.

Mambo.

Whatever.

The point is, my web celebre
are firmly on the terra cotta.

This is one duck who
isn't going Hollywood.

(upbeat music playing)

Davy,

tell Steve and Jeffrey
I'll swing by for a looky-loo,

but I won't even discuss
Dreamworks SKGD.

I wouldn't take fourth billing
on Mount Rushmore.

(belly laugh)

What's that?

When did they add him?

Well, let's not miss the point,
okay, Captain Geography?

Bu-bye.

MAN:
Ow!

Cornfed, de pig supreme.

I have breakfast tomorrow
with Oliver Stone.

Make a reservation,
but nothing spicy.

Ollie's got a colon
like a hamster.

My aromatherapist
needs Leno tickets.
Make it happen, babe.

Not too close to
the stage, though.

Jay tends to spit
when he's on a roll.

And cancel your plans tonight.

There's a premiere shindig
for the new Harrison Ford.

I'm going?

(guffawing)

No, you silly fool.
I'm going.

You'll be doing the work
I won't have time for.

"I'm going"?

(laughing)

That didn't even sound like me.

Duckman, did you read
those scripts I found?

Oh, yeah, right.

That's just why I got
into movies-- to read scripts.

But these are smart,
provocative screenplays.

If you'd just read...

Yawning!

Come on, Corny,
scripts are words,

and words are dead.

If reading words
was important,

we'd still be teaching kids
how to do it in school.

Sizzle! That's
what sells movies.

Yep, which reminds me.

(speed dialing)

(ringing through)

Meg Ryan, please.

Duckman.

Thank you.

Meg, hey there, ho there.

I gotta tell you,
I'm a big, big fan

When A man Loves A Woman
changed my life.

I remember thinking,
"Great idea."

If I only date drunk chicks,

I save the time and money
of getting them drunk, you know?

Meg? Meg... yup, hi.

Thought I lost you there.
Well, here's the skinny.

I want you to star
in my first picture.

340 million up front for you
and a big back end

if you get my drift.
No?

Well, it's always been
a dream of mine

to see you
in provocative lingerie,

and I'm betting a lot
of other men would pay

to see it, too.
Stunts are minimal--

bending over to clip a toenail
kind of thing.

And I'd call it
Meg Ryan In Her Underpants.

Huh? You like? Meg?

(dial tone)

(speed dialing)

Uma Thurman, please.

Liv Tyler?

(crickets chirping)

Maya Angelou?

(theme from
Entertainment Tonight plays)

In what has to be
the deal of the century,

Hollywood's newest
mega-mogul, Duckman,

is paying studio secretary,
Betty Furple, $340 million

to star in
Betty Furple In Her Underpants,

saying only that
the unknown office temp

"was always my first choice."

Normally, a price like that

Would scare
the studio powers that be,

but Stan Wassershein and Paradox
have three aces up their sleeves

in Soapy "Soap" Carbone
Billy Bruno

and Minehard Braunbusser.
With each one of them

now shooting
a Paradox action film overseas,

the studio has
three certain blockbusters

whose combined box office

should more than compensate
for Duckman's shopping spree.

Duckman's spending
all the studio's money,

but those three stars
are going to make it right back.

I can't let them
save the studio.

I've got to stop them!

But how?

I've got it.

I'll use Duckman
to sabotage their movies,

and I will regain my position
on the mountaintop--

finally pulled out
of the hellish nightmare

of squalor and misery
I have been left with!

Stevens, the bidet
is out of Evian.

Five minutes
to air, Duckman.

Are you sure you're ready
for a televised interview?

It's live,
and almost every time

you say anything
out loud,

it's ill-informed,
insulting or nonsensical.

I mean... do you need
that cigar lit?

I've never felt
more at home

than I do
in Hollywood, Corny.

I'm listened
to, respected,

and people are throwing
way less bottles at me.

My fantasies are
all coming true.

Or will be, once I make
Melissa Etheridge my wife.

(whispering)

(gasping)

That's a lie!
Take that back!

Psst!

(screams)

Hi, Duckman, I'm Julie,

and we'll jump right in
after the commercial.

Gotcha-roony,
news babe.
Nice grip.

Care to stay
after the show

and sample it
on my hand-held mike?

Man:
Three... two...

(theme from
Entertainment Tonight plays)

Welcome back.

Next up: Hollywood's
newest player, Duckman.

We're here in his office
at Paradox Studios,

and Duckman, it looks like
you're adjusting quite nicely

to life in the fast lane.

You betcha. In fact,
I just moved my family

into a house in Bel Air that
used to belong to Merv Griffin.

(pounding on door)

DUCKMAN:
Go away!

Anyone can say
they still live here.

Well, Duckman-- spendthrift,
visionary, or very lucky duck?

The jury's still out.

But one thing's
certain:

You're emptying the
studio's bank account.

How do you justify

paying the largest
star salary in history

to a complete unknown?

I'll tell you, cuppy cakes.

This is an industry built on
perception rather than fact

run by businessmen
who understand numbers

and don't have a clue about
what's good and what isn't.

So, the key is
to be perceived as good

by being associated with
the biggest and best numbers.

Meaning, if you have no talent,
you can buy credibility--

in essence, creating
the illusion of quality

by spending
the most money.

Wow! How'd you
learn so much

in only a day
and a half on the job?

I was looking
for a strip joint

and wandered into a Writers
Guild meeting by mistake.

Pissy little bunch-- no wonder
they're not allowed on the set.

And speaking of sets,

we have word from the sets
of the new movies,

starring Paradox's
three action mega-stars

and your ears
must be burning.

Well, anyway, apparently,
they don't like being replaced

as the highest-paid
stars in the world

and they're saying
you'll fail

because you, quote, "have
stupid ideas for movies."

What? The testosterone trio
called me stupid?

You ever talk to Carbone?

Not exactly a rocket scientist.

This duck maligns me,

and worse, by paying a woman
more than me,

he's forced me to renegotiate

despite my innate suspicion
that 30 million dollars

is sufficient pay
for one idea-free movie.

(yelling)

And Bruno-- ha, ha!--
if he's such a big deal,

what about the rumor
I'm just now starting

about he and that stripper
he's married to--

what's her stage name,
"Semi-Naked"?

I think she pronounces
it "Seh-Mee."

Whatever. The point is,
I hear Mr. Action Star

is Mr. No Action
in the bedroom

if you get my drift.

In other words, that popcorn
comes without butter.

(spitting)

What the f...

Is he saying my bevel
ain't level?

My cat's paw is coleslaw?

My upfront's a blunt runt?

(yelling)

(grunts)

(yelling)

(over radio):
Uh, Billy, this is just
a movie set

and the plane is yours.

Hey, I'm in a mood.

And the other one, Minehard--
what a weeny.

Take away 30 years
of barbells and back oil,

and all you got left
is a limp rag,

except not as smart.

The guy's
one large muscle,

and we're talking
head to toe.

Me, all muscle?

This time it's personal.

Not that the other times
I said that

weren't personal too.

They were personal,

but this time,
it's just more personal

compared to those other times,
which were also personal.

Mr. Braunbusser,
you can't leave.

(snapping)

"Can't" is for character actors.

Bring me the Humvee.

Not the Hyundai, the...
Never mind.

I will stick shift his...

I mean, I am starting
to hatch a plan to...

I am trying to say I won't
show economy in pulv...

Okay, now I am without an
effective action guy joke

and this is making me want
to hurt Duckman even more.

("Hooray for Hollywood"
playing)

It's a glamorous
star-studded premiere

for the opening of Planet
Sycophant in Hollywood.

We're high atop the abandoned,
long-forgotten public library

to give you the best
view of the stars

and they're out tonight.

Hugh Grant and Elizabeth Hurley
are here.

Looks like they drove together
this time.

And here comes Johnny Depp

looking rakish
with his walking stick.

Oh, no, I'm sorry.
That's Kate Moss.

There's Sharon Stone
with the 25 lucky winners

of MTV's "Oh, boy,
I'm going to sleep

with Sharon Stone" contest.

Ah... and there he is now,
Hollywood's man of the hour--

Duckman!

Good career move--

asking me
to escort you tonight.

Bottom line:
At the end of the day,

when the bird
flies, uh...

up, over the, uh...

hill, or uh...

something.

I forget what I
was going to say.

Anyway, I just wish those
three over-hyped has-beens

were here now to bow
down to the new king.

(honking)

(all screaming)

(brakes screeching)

Yippee-ki-ay, motherducker.

(screaming)

Ah!

(clunk)

Duckman:
Yike-den-lieber!

Hasta la roasta, duck.

Waah!

I become bellicose

with each glimpse
of your feculent visage.

Hmm.

Yah!

Ah!

Fortunately,
we radioed ahead

and made sure all the
buildings would be empty,

so no innocent bystanders
would be harmed.

We may destroy, but it
doesn't mean we don't care.

D'ahh!

Don't know what that is,
but I can't see for...

All:
Shi...!

(spitting)

There's a billboard up ahead!
Hit the...

Brakes.

(engine knocking)

Action stars,
my sewage-filled butt.

None of them are a match
for a hunka-hunka burning duck.

(guns cocking)
(gasps)

ALL:
Go ahead... make our day.

That's the best one.

Works, doesn't it?

You're telling me.

(karate yell)

Sorry, fellas.

(all grunting)

I'm grunting at you, pig.

There's no need for revenge.

This whole thing
has been a plot

to manipulate you all

and, in turn,
ruin the studio.

A plot hatched... by him.

Heh-heh. Just ignore that crack
about the hand-held mike.

All right, it's me.

To complete
my evil scheme,

I posed as
Julie Moran,

which by the way,
I've been secretly doing

for years in a club
on La Brea.

I knew if I got you
three mad enough,

you'd leave the sets, get
arrested for killing Duckman

and cost Wassershein hundreds
of millions of dollars.

There was a flaw in your plan.

We would pay Stan back.

Anything for you, Stan.

You believed in us

when we were
starving Broadway gypsies.

You sure did.
Till you came along,

we were living in one room,
sharing tights and toe shoes.

Shh.
Shh.

Why hide? We were young,
it was spring...

I got to know--
how'd you figure it out?

Was it the obscene
amount of money

for a production deal

that gave a total incompetent
the power to make movies?

No, they do that
all the time.

The truth is, I knew something
was wrong when you didn't touch

that piece of luscious
pecan layer cake

only offered
at Planet Sycophant.

Of course. Everyone
knows Julie's cuckoo

about that
nuttily moist mouthful

of sweet, savory goodness

served hot with gobs of caramel
and rich vanilla ice cream.

Remember:
Planet Sycophant--

where the world
revolves around us.

Anyhoo,

the real Julie's unharmed.

I found her hanging upside down
in a wardrobe closet,

stripped naked.

As it turns out,
kidnapping the host

of a syndicated entertainment
news program

is only a misdemeanor.

But you're
at a Hollywood opening

without having your name
on the guest list.

And in this town,

that's a jailable offence.

Say, an Indie deal
run from prison

has a certain novelty value.

Make my assistant
your one phone call.

We'll talk.

Duckman,
your contract's no good.

Go away.

Well, that's that.

Now that we've, you know,
battled to the death,

maybe we can do
the schmooze thing.

Summer at Oxnard.
Hit some Clipper games?

(all laughing)

Might've gone
a little overboard this time.

We blew up
our own restaurant.

Not to worry. It was
just millions of dollars

spent on creating something
with no intrinsic value

for the sole purpose of
making millions more.

Hey!
Just like our movies.

(all laughing)

Don't be upset.
They have strict rules

about spending time
with anyone

who can't do something
for them.

In fact, that's why we had
to go with impersonations

and caricatures,
who are fictional

and in no way
meant to represent

actual persons, living or dead.

So, that could be it

for our careers
in show business,

and it humbles me,
partner of mine,

for in the end,
who are we

to even dare to aspire
to such heights?

An industry so
bathed in greatness

should be left to
those whose talent

is outshone only by
their desire to enlighten.

(distant automatic gunfire)

(distant explosions)

(distant sirens blaring)

MINEHARD BRAUNBUSSER:
Where the world
revolves around us.