All language subtitles for Action.Jackson.1988.1080p.BluRay.x264-PSYCHD-sdh

(HELICOPTER WHIRRING)

LIZ: Come on, can we finish this?
It's getting late.

FRANK: Ah. Yeah, okay.

I assure my esteemed colleague...

that since the death of
our friend and coworker...

Samuel Norman, the Auto
Workers Alliance...

has made a substantial
recovery and will continue...

No, new sentence there.

Okay. We will continue to improve with
the months ahead. Yours truly, Frank...

I know who it's from, Frank.

(THUD)

You hear that?

It's probably my date.

Aw, come on, Liz.

Come on.

- Don't be in such a hurry to get home.
- Ah. Mm.

You can't possibly have
a better suggestion.

Ho-ho, so happens I do.

Oh, Frank.

Boy, I'll tell you,
these things never work.

WOMAN: Ugh.

Oh, what? You got something
against violence?

(THUDDING CONTINUES)

- You dating Santa Claus?
- Ha, ha.

(LIZ SCREAMING)

Jesus Christ.

(SPORTS ANNOUNCER SPEAKING
INDISTINCTLY ON TV)

Jesus Christ!

(FOOTSTEPS)

(FRANK GRUNTS)

(COUGHS)

Huh?

(YELLS)

(PANTING)

Hey, man, no, man.

(WOMAN SCREAMS)

(SIREN WAILING)

It was a regular fuck-a-rama
at my place last night.

Can the shit, Kornblau.

There ain't been any pussy at your pad
since your mother helped you move in.

They ought to call your place
"The House of Whacks."

(CHUCKLES)

Oh, heh, check this out.

I'm surprised he don't wear
a shirt that says "I steal shit."

Mm-hm.

KORNBLAU: What's he think we're
driving, an ice cream truck?

He's gotta be kidding.

Nah. This boy would have
to college for four years

to reach the level
of shit-for-brains.

(BOTH LAUGH)

LACK: There he goes.

WOMAN: Hey! You little bastard!
What's wrong with you?

- Ha, ha.
- We better call the meat wagon.

No, no, no, no, no.

It'd be best to let it
percolate a little.

(WOMAN GRUNTING)

THIEF: Give me your damn purse!

WOMAN: I'll give you my purse where
it'll do you the most good!

LACK: What's your name?

Uh, Albert. Albert Smith.

Albert...

your mother and father weren't, by
chance, brother and sister, were they?

- What's gonna happen to me?
KORNBLAU: Oh, nothing.

Uh, nothing much. You might have to endure
a little session with "Action" Jackson.

(CHUCKLES)

- Who's Actson...?
- Action. Action Jackson.

Some say he didn't
even have a mother.

That some researchers...

at NASA created him to walk
on the moon without a space suit.

LACK: Mm-hm.

Others say his mother was
molested by Bigfoot.

And Jackson's their
mutant offspring.

They bring in Jackson when they want
to re-educate some young ne'er-do-well.

Such as yourself, Albert.

KORNBLAU: I remember one kid
got re-educated so bad...

his testicles climbed back up
into his belly. Wouldn't come out.

LACK: They called it a medical miracle.
- Another kid, handcuffed to a chair.

Gnawed his own hand off
like a trapped skunk...

or Wolverine or something.

Jackson is so vicious,
we don't even let him have a gun.

Is he here?

He gets so riled up...

you gotta use tranquilizer darts
just to keep him in his chair.

(LAUGHS)

Hey, how you doing man?

Hey, what's going on?

Ow! Ha, ha.

ALBERT: Where is he?

Keep your dick on, kid. They're
probably just cleaning out his cage.

Uh-huh.

- Hi, darling.
WOMAN: Hmm.

How much do you charge
for a hand job?

My partner has sprained his wrist.

Maybe you'd like to try
a foot job instead?

- Ooh.
- Ooh.

- And how much is that?
- For you, it's free.

(GRUNTS)

Stop that kid!

Stupid son of a bitch!

Little shit!
I'm gonna break your legs!

Grab him!

- Get that little shit!
- Look out!

Mellow out.

(SIGHS)

MAN: You did it again, Jackson.

(OFFICERS LAUGHING)

Jackson, what's on
the agenda today?

Trying out a new typewriter or maybe
a dangerous Xerox assignment, huh?

Sorry, I meant to congratulate
you on that collar you made.

Thanks a lot, I appreciate it.

It takes sharp work to track a man
screaming, "I did it! I did it!"

You know, Jackson, I can't believe
we stayed partners as long as we did.

ARMBRUSTER: Come in!
- Somebody had to carry you.

File that, will you?

So far we got zilch.

(THUD)

It's as if the assailant was invisible.
There wasn't enough left of Stringer...

for an autopsy.

And his secretary, Miss Massetori, seems
to have died before the fire started.

How was that?

No sign of smoke inhalation.
Not even seared lungs.

ARMBRUSTER: Interesting.
- It was unusual...

for Mr. Stringer and Miss
Massetori to be working so late...

but the coroner didn't think he was
slipping her the old protein pickup.

Detective Kotterwell, please
keep a leash on your vocabulary.

Yes, sir.

Like me to repeat anything?

"The old protein pickup."

You give this department class. I'm
surprised they don't make you captain.

If Armbruster fucked up as bad
as you did, they probably would.

Looks like your
friend fainted again.

- Did you threaten to white him out?
- No.

I just showed him a
picture of your girlfriend.

Jackson, have a seat.

Sergeant, how long has it been since
you lost your lieutenant's stripes?

Almost two years.

And how would you describe
those two years?

Uneventful.

In my years on the force, I have
never met a more dedicated policeman.

I know you're a very proud man.
And you have much to be proud of.

High-school track star,
Harvard law degree...

Frankly, if I had a Harvard law degree
I never would've become a policeman.

I know the duties I assign you are
trivial, but they're crucial...

in maintaining the
public's goodwill.

- Yes, sir.
- Like tonight, for example.

I need you to represent the department
at the Detroit Businessman League's...

Man of the Year fundraiser.
I was scheduled to attend...

but I had forgotten that this
is my wife's Parcheesi night.

- That sounds pretty painless.
- Won't be that painless.

Their Man of the Year
is Peter Dellaplane.

Peter Dellaplane is
Man of the Year, huh?

Sure. Why not make Charlie Manson
a high-school counselor?

Just because the man
had a few family problems...

His son's a sexual psychopath. With
problems like that, I'd get neutered.

I know you take this matter
very personally...

Personally?
Captain, the man cost me my stripes!

You cost you your stripes,
no one else!

You could've handled Sean
Dellaplane more delicately.

How, huh? Send him an
engraved invitation?

"Come on down here. Join us at
city jail. Dress casual. RSVP."

- You nearly tore that boy's arm off!
- So?

He had a spare.

Sergeant...

I'm not sure
I'm getting through to you.

That case not only cost you
your lieutenant's stripes...

but also your gun permit and marriage,
and brought this department...

publicity we can do without.

The public doesn't appreciate charges of
police brutality, substantiated or not!

I'm not asking you to go there
to brownnose Peter Dellaplane.

I just need to be sure your
Action Jackson days are far behind you.

Then we'll see about getting
those lieutenant's stripes back.

SPEAKER: On my television I came
across a commercial...

for Dellaplane's car, the Halley.

And I was struck by just
how apt that name is.

For Peter Dellaplane
is himself a comet.

A man whose bright
and blazing tail...

leads the way for the few with
the courage to follow.

And like Halley's comet,
he's the kind of man...

who comes along
only once in a lifetime.

Ladies and gentlemen,
our Man of the Year...

Mr. Peter Anthony Dellaplane.

Thank you.

WOMAN 1: Congratulations!

WOMAN 2: Wonderful, Peter!

Thank you. Thank you.

I hope the fire marshal isn't
too alarmed by my blazing tail.

(ALL LAUGH)

As a young boy growing up...

in my father's house,
I spent a lot of time in the library.

One not that much smaller
than the Library of Congress.

(AUDIENCE LAUGHS)

(WHISPERS) Pardon me.

You can't hear what
he's saying back here.

Ah, I know.
It's the best seat in the house.

I take it your not one of
Mr. Dellaplane's friends.

Not unless they changed
the definition.

I want you to meet
my most lovely bride...

Patrice Dellaplane.

Patrice.

I bet I can make
you change your mind.

My most precious wife.

Sweetheart, let's share
this moment together.

Didn't, um, Caulfield versus
North Carolina demonstrate...

that liability applies to government
as individuals, not as a unit?

No, liability applies only if the
individual's acting on his own accord...

not as a representative
of the government.

Yes, I see that.
But on the other hand...

(WOMAN LAUGHS)

What do you think of
our Man of the Year?

I think he is a greedy...

conceited, two-faced,
backstabbing asshole.

Yes, I'd say that just
about sums it up.

(BOTH CHUCKLE)

Peter, I'd like you to meet...
I'm sorry, I don't know your name.

Jackson. Jericho Jackson.

There's a nickname associated
with it, isn't there?

Something like "excitement"?

Uh, "Enthusiasm"?
"Esprit de corps"?

It's "Action

- Well, of course. That rhymes.
PATRICE: Heh.

How do you know each other?

We met through my son.

I helped him to relocate.
How's he doing?

He's adjusting.

The Dellaplanes are adept
at dealing with obstacles.

He was a popular boy.
I'm sure he's popular in his new home.

I hear all it takes
is the right opening.

The car's ready.

It's been a pleasure
to see you, lieutenant.

I'm sorry.

It's sergeant now, isn't it?

Guess I wasn't able to make you
change your mind after all.

MAN 1: What do you call a guy with no
arms and legs, under a pile of leaves?

MAN 2: Russell.

(BOTH CHUCKLE)

A guy with no arms and legs,
who sits on the porch?

Matt.

(OPERA MUSIC PLAYING OVER SPEAKERS)

A guy with no arms and legs, who...

sits on the wall?

Art.

Pal, you're trying to unload
a whole field of fertilizer on me here.

Stringer's death was neither
tragic nor accidental.

Somebody diced the guy.

A guy with no arms and legs
that floats in the water?

You two assholes if you
don't shut the fuck up.

Bob.

(BOTH CHUCKLE)

- What's up his ass?
- Unh!

I have some Tums if you need them.

What the...? Oh!

(GRUNTS)

Yeah, Ray, you're talking to
Mr. Security himself here.

I got the place tighter than
the Pope's poop chute.

BOB: What the hell's going on?

Yeah, I know, but you're
interrupting an aria.

Okay, yeah.

Good night.

(SIGHS)

(KNOCK ON DOOR)

Later!

(KNOCKING CONTINUES)

You better start thinking
about a new career, pal.

(GRUNTING)

(TIMER BEEPING)

Oh, shit!

(YELLS)

(FUNK MUSIC PLAYING ON SPEAKERS)

Hey, sarge! Good evening.

Too bad about the game, huh?

(CHUCKLES)

We lost. Damn.

- Put money down on it?
- Clovis, I'm a cop.

How much did you lose on that game?

Okay. Ten bucks.

Ten bucks? Is that all?
Do they give you enough?

You gotta play for higher stakes!

That means I'd have to tip less.

Stop the presses
You did not hear it from this mouth.

Please be careful...

With the car because the parts
are hard to find for a '66 Impala.

I don't sound that bad, do I?

No, not at all.

I was merely extemporizing, heh.

Extemporizing.

(CHUCKLES)

Oh, and please don't peel away
too slowly because...

this car's my most
prized possession...

and should be driven as fast
as possible at all times.

(TIRES SCREECHING)

MAN 1 (ON TV):
This has nothing to do with plumbing.

MAN 2 (ON TV): Well, of course it
doesn't. Don't be ridiculous.

ANNOUNCER (ON TV):
The Halley, from Dellaplane.

Look for a new star
in the sky tonight.

The Halley. The car of
tomorrow can be yours today.

Hot.

Hotter.

Hottest.

We're miles above the rest.

The Halley, from Dellaplane.

TONY (ON MACHINE): Jericho, this is Tony.
Pick up, man. You there? Pick up!

I got some news, pal.
Some interesting stuff.

Call me. You know
where you can reach me.

WOMAN (ON TV): Harbor officials report
that the craft belongs to Lionel Grantham.

An AWA official who's
been president...

of Local 132 for the
last five years.

Grantham is believed
to have died in the explosion...

with crew members
whose names are being held...

Come on.
There's gotta be more!

The coroner's looking at
what's left of Grantham.

It's like the Norman case. There
wasn't enough left to put on a pizza.

- What evidence connects the deaths?
- Am I hearing correctly?

Is the one-man army
really asking for help?

- Jackson, call for you!
- Who is it?

Do I look like your secretary?

Yeah, it must be your lipstick.

Hold on a second. Dale!

- Jackson here.
TONY (OVER PHONE): It's Tony.

Tony, I'm sorry. I...

Where have you been?
Come over as soon as you can.

This is a matter of life and death.

(DIAL TONE)

(TONY BREATHING HEAVILY)

JACKSON: Hey, Tony?

Tony.

Jesus, Tony.
You don't look too good.

How'd you get in here?

It was open.

(CHUCKLES)

Hey, what happened? Who did this?

I did.

You can never be too careful.

The walls...

The walls have ears,
and all of that.

- Come on, I wanna take you to a hospital.
- No! No, no.

- Whoa.
- Sit down.

You sit down and
you're gonna listen.

All right.

Just cool it.

- Looks like you haven't slept in days.
- I can't afford to sleep.

Norman dead...

Grantham dead...

Stringer dead.

And Tony alive.
For now.

- Right?
- Who'd wanna kill you, Tony?

I'll give you three guesses,
and the first two...

you forget about.
All right?

Here's a little hint:

"Hot. Hotter. Hottest."

Peter Dellaplane.

(SINGING)
I'd like to tell you a story

About a man and the many
Hearts he broke

Eye to eye you are no match

'Cause you wanna fall in love

Girls, he'll break your heart

Do you wrong, tell you lies

'Cause he's got those

Far away eyes

Far away eyes

I'm a fool, baby

Far away eyes

Boy, you're a heartbreaker

Still, I've got to make you mine

Play on this, baby

(SINGER MOANING)

You're the one and only

Open up my door

And love me with your

Far away eyes

Far away eyes

How do you feel, baby

Far away eyes

Boy, you're a heartbreaker

Still, I've got to make you mine

I expected a standing ovation.

You're getting one.

- Will you be leaving now, Miss Ash?
- Yes, she will, Edd.

Would you like me to accompany you?

No, thank you.
This part I can do on my own.

You remember who
pays your salary?

You do, Mr. Dellaplane.
And most generously.

Right.

Working for Springer,
my job was to keep tabs on people.

Ask questions, find out who's planning
what power plays. That kind of thing.

Dellaplane, he was...

working his way through the union.
Finding who's for him, who against.

Who resented his money, his power.
Who was agreeing with him...

and, uh, it was all that.
JACKSON: All right, look.

What does that have
to do with Stringer?

Stringer didn't trust him.

He hated his guts, in fact.

That's the same for Norman and
for Grantham. And because of that...

Dellaplane wanted them
out of the way.

For what?

That's the rickety part,
because I don't know.

It's just, heh...
I can't figure that out.

Wait.
Come on, think about it.

You're saying Dellaplane's killing
off unfriendly AWA leaders...

and you don't know why and
you don't have any evidence.

Don't tell me you're
afraid of Dellaplane.

The Jackson I knew
wasn't afraid of nothing.

We all thought he'd make
a name for himself.

If I got the wrong Jackson,
please tell me.

Come on, you got the right Jackson.

He didn't make the name for himself
he thought he would.

One person you might try...

is Dellaplane's mistress.
She's a singer.

Her name is Sydney Ash
and she works at this club.

Joey's Club Elite.
All right?

- I'm not wasting your time.
- I know.

I promise you that
I'm on to something.

Thanks.

(ROCK MUSIC PLAYING ON STEREO)

(KNOCK ON DOOR)

Moretti?

Delivery.

Would you please sign here?

It's C.O.D.

(CHUCKLES)

I saw your wife in the
paper last week.

Are you ever gonna
tell her about me?

- Why would I do a thing like that?
- Hmm.

You know I never mix
business with pleasure.

Which of us is business
and which is pleasure, huh?

Would you like me to
spell it out for you?

- You said that you'd come see me more.
- Hmm.

And you said a man from Motown
was gonna come hear me sing.

DELLAPLANE: Mm-hm.
SYDNEY: Mm-hm.

And you also said that
I could cut a record...

and that I'd be going places.
- Hmm.

SYDNEY: Mm-hm.

DELLAPLANE: Hmm.

Did I say all that?

Mm-hm.

- Really?
- Mm-hm.

Give me two good reasons why
I'd say all those things.

Oh, yeah.
Now I remember.

Oh, baby.

(SYDNEY CHUCKLES)

You're gorgeous.

This...

is supposed to be
a girl's best friend.

What would I ever do
without you, huh?

Let's hope you never
have to find out.

(SYDNEY MOANING)

Sweet dreams, baby.

MORTY: Amphetamines,
malnutrition, insomnia.

If the bullet hadn't gotten him, he
would've dropped dead within the week.

That's very consoling.
You got a great bedside manner.

In this business, I need a bedside
manner like I need another nose.

He's a friend of yours, huh?

From the same high school.
We were on the track team together.

He was a high-strung kid.

I hadn't seen much of him since
he started to work for the union.

Kotterwell says it's suicide.

He wouldn't know suicide if it
crawled up his ass and died there.

(CHUCKLES)

They said Tony killed himself
with a 9mm. Bullshit.

I saw him packing a .32.
Somebody planted that 9mm on him.

You got any leads?

I know a woman who might help, but I
gotta get her away from her husband.

- Ooh. Story of my life.
- Heh.

FOSS: All right. But if I see
a cake with 63 candles...

I'll be out the door faster
than shit through Secretariat.

(DELLAPLANE CHUCKLES)

JACKSON:
This should go well with your meal.

I didn't know you listed photography
among your interests.

Is that all you have to say?

The negative's quite poor,
isn't it?

The quality of the print
seems excellent.

It's a shame the subject
wasn't more cooperative.

- Who was he?
- His name was Tony Moretti.

He worked for Stringer.
They knew your plans for the AWA...

and now they're both dead.
Is that clear enough?

What are you planning for the AWA?

Ray, I'm sorry. My manners are...

Sweetheart.

This is Sergeant Jericho Jackson,
one of Detroit's finest.

This is Raymond Foss,
president of the Auto Workers Alliance.

I'm sure he would be delighted
to hear what I have planned.

- Good afternoon, Mr. Foss.
- Sergeant.

Too bad you couldn't find a more
suitable luncheon companion.

Mrs. Dellaplane,
I hope you'll forgive the intrusion.

Good day.

Is he giving you trouble?

His kind of trouble
is no trouble at all.

(GRUNTING AND YELLING)

(MAN COUGHS AND GROANS)

Lesson's over.

Show him to his car.

(MAN GROANING)

(CHATTERING)

CARTIER: We're having some
problems with O'Rooney...

but we should have him
in shape by this Sunday.

Jackson got to Moretti
before we did.

It doesn't matter.
What could he tell him? He had no proof.

Jackson? No need to.
He doesn't know enough...

I say that sounds fine.
I believe we can meet that.

Peter, I need to talk to you.

I got a meeting in 14 minutes.
I'm on the phone to Italy.

It costs more than
your diamond brooch.

- It's important.
- This is important.

I say we can meet that.
Let's go, please.

It'll just take a second, honey...

It'll be about a couple
of weeks, I think.

Will you be leaving, madam?
I'll be happy to drive you.

No, thank you.
I can do it myself.

- Sergeant.
- I was just coming to see you.

- Are you going into town?
- I am. Would you like a ride?

I thought you'd never ask.

SYDNEY: I couldn't figure out what
they were talking about...

but I heard him say
the name Moretti.

And he definitely said your name.

He also mentioned
a man named O'Rooney.

How they were having trouble with him,
but they'd have him in shape by Sunday.

That's gotta be Oliver O'Rooney.

He used to work for your husband,
but now he's with the AWA.

- You familiar with the name?
- No.

What do you know about
Frank Stringer or Lionel Grantham?

Only what I read in the paper.

Peter never mentioned them.
He doesn't bring his work home with him.

Except this weekend. He's giving a
party for that man we had lunch with.

Raymond Foss?
Aren't he and your husband friends?

No, not at all.

In fact, I could've sworn
they hated each other.

He's gotta be used to that by now.

I know how you feel about Peter.
But you don't know him the way I do.

He may seem greedy and arrogant...

but you don't make it big
and remained loved by everyone.

I met him after his first wife died
and his son went to prison.

I think the whole
experience changed him.

He's not the man
you think you know.

What do you think
you know about me?

I think you're not
so different from Peter.

You're both stubborn.
Both intent on getting what you want.

You know, I think Peter
admires you a little bit.

Not many people cause him
so much trouble and get away with it.

Who says I've gotten away
with anything?

Let's get out of here.

- Can you get me into the party?
- Not and keep my marriage.

Heh, I cut a fine figure
on the dance floor.

At least I would, if your husband
didn't have my legs broken.

Why do they call you Action...?

(TIRES SCREECH)

Are you okay?

Go to the police station.
I have to catch a cab.

MAN 1: Hey!
MAN 2: Hey, what are you doing?

(ENGINE REVS AND TIRES SCREECH)

(HORNS HONKING)

Hey, you!
I'm talking to you!

Come on, asshole!

Now I got you!

(YELLS)

Maybe this wasn't
a good idea after all.

(WOMAN SCREAMS)

JACKSON: Shit.

Oh, shit!

Enough is enough!

(GUN CLICKS)

You want to shoot me?
I'm not packing. Don't shoot me!

Come on! Come on and get me!

Don't shoot me. That's too easy.

Be a man!
Come and get me!

I know you killed Tony!
Come on, chicken shit!

Come on!

(ENGINE REVS)

(YELLS)

(SIREN WAILING NEARBY)

Son of a bitch. Shit.

Where did he go?

I'm afraid to ask.

Uh, dry cleaning.

- Ray Foss is on the line.
- I'll take it in my office.

It's the Martinizing that does it.

Did a woman come by for me?
Twenty-nine, a blond?

Christ, I thought I dreamed.

What the hell happened to you?
Wait.

She left a note.

"I'm gonna tell Peter everything."
Jackson, how do you do it?

It's the clothes.

ARMBRUSTER: What?

Where the hell is Jackson?

MAN: Ladies and gentlemen...

Joey's Club Elite
is proud to present...

Sydney Ash!

(BAND PLAYING POP MUSIC)

(SINGING)
All my love is for your fun

If you keep me up on the one

I'm so in love with you

For love, honey, I'll undo

I just might take it off real slow

Maybe even turn the lights down low

You control my desire

Undress your love
Baby, take me higher

Can you kiss me?

Baby, undress me

Can you kiss me?

Baby, undress

When I wanna rock

I just put my body on the top

You know what I wanna do

It's my game if you wanna play

There's one thing that I wanna say

I never lose

Undo me, baby, don't hold back
My love is on the one

Watch me and we can have some fun

You should come and join me, baby

Unwind, darling, and drive me crazy
Uh-huh

Get up off of that stump, baby

(CHUCKLES)

Can you kiss me?

Baby, undress me

Can you kiss me?

Baby, undress

(AUDIENCE CHEERING AND APPLAUDING)
(JACKSON CHUCKLES)

Good evening, sir.

Here's your .357.
It's cleaned and ported.

All right.

Thank you,
I'll test it in the morning.

- Cartier?
- Sir.

Has madam arrived yet?

No, I'm afraid not, sir.

Will you let me know?

Peter.

I was worried about you, honey.

They said you hadn't come home yet.

I came in through the back door.

Peter, something's wrong.

- What is it? Let's talk about it.
- It's Cartier.

I heard him on the phone today.

He was talking about
that man Moretti.

The one Sergeant Jackson
showed you the picture of?

- You must be mistaken.
- No, I'm sure of it.

He said Jackson had gotten to him,
but he couldn't tell him anything.

Peter, what's going on?

Do you trust me?

Of course I trust you.

I just...
I have to hear you say it.

For me, Peter. Please.

(SOBBING)

I swear to you, I had nothing
to do with anybody's murder.

Not Frank Stringer.
Not Lionel Grantham...

or any friend of Jericho Jackson's.

Thank you, Peter.

Patrice, I would never do
anything to harm you, baby.

I just hope Sergeant
Jackson will understand.

(CHUCKLES)

Wait a minute.

You didn't tell Jackson
any of this, did you?

He came by right after
I overheard the conversation.

But I assured him that you
couldn't have been involved.

I knew that you couldn't be.

You wouldn't talk to me.
I didn't know what to do.

Please don't hate me for it.

I don't hate you.

DELLAPLANE: I love you.

(GUNSHOT)

More than life itself.

Works fine.

SYDNEY: Hi, ladies.
WOMAN: Hi.

SYDNEY: Knock yourself out, huh?

(CHATTERING)

May I help you?

I'd like to speak to Miss Ash.

I don't recommend that.

I do. Unh!

(JACKSON CHUCKLES)

You're one big fella.
How much do you weigh?

Two hundred seventy pounds.

That's pretty big.

(GRUNTS)

You make a good living, don't you?

Good enough. It helps pay
my way through medical school.

If I was to hit you again...

you'd probably slam my body
through that wall, wouldn't you?

I was thinking about it.

But it goes against
all my Muslim beliefs.

Oh. Good.

(JACKSON YELLS)

(CHUCKLES)

SYDNEY: I take it you liked my act?

I'm impressed. It takes
a lot to get through old Edd.

Not very much,
just the end of that table.

- He'll be out for a while.
- Heh, you don't know Edd.

And you don't know me.

- You through?
- Heh, I'm through singing.

But it's only midnight and
the night's barely started.

You wouldn't, by any chance,
be a diabetic?

Heh, not the last time I checked.

Let's hasten to your chariot.

My chariot awaits.

(SYDNEY HUMMING)

Waiting till we're married
or something?

I'd just rather a place
a little more romantic.

Heh, romantic?

Honey,
romance is where you find it.

And I find it wherever
and whenever I can.

You must be a priest or something.

(JACKSON SIGHS)

I don't even know your name.
What's your name?

It's Jericho.

Jericho? Heh.

See, I knew you was a priest. Heh.

Ain't you got a
nickname or something?

Some folks used to call me Action.

(SYDNEY CHUCKLES)

Action?

Heh, shit, I ain't seen
none of that tonight.

Sure wasn't no woman
that gave you that name.

(SIREN WAILING)

Whoo! If that's for me,
don't answer it.

(CHUCKLES)

This is not good.

SYDNEY: Ooh, a parking lot.
Now this is real romantic.

Maybe now you'll live up
to your name, huh?

MAN (OVER RADIO): Body's been
identified as Patrice Dellaplane.

Wife of Peter Dellaplane.

No sign of Jackson.

I don't dig this talk-radio crap.
Ain't you got any rap channels?

Now where are we going?

JACKSON: Your place.

(TIRES SCREECH)

SYDNEY: Now you're talking.

Well, where is she?

She's in the bedroom.

Where's the bedroom?

Jesus. You really think
Action Jackson did it?

KOTTERWELL: Look, I want to
put a lid on all this. No press!

Your old partner seems to be
a magnet for trouble.

I wouldn't have it any other way.

Women this beautiful
don't come around too often.

I've always gotta
see them like this.

Come on.

Hey, no lights.

Okay. You're the romantic here.

Hope I live to keep it that way.

Well, I've got the munchies
like you wouldn't believe.

Hmm, some cherry pie, ice cream...

So, what have we got?

Hey, come on.
Later, okay? Later.

(PHONE RINGING)

What's wrong? Food not
romantic enough for you?

- Do you usually get calls late at night?
- I happen to be a very popular girl.

Sweetheart, I'm not kidding.
- No. But this is kind of romantic now.

(SYDNEY SPEAKING ON ANSWERING MACHINE)

(SYDNEY SCREAMS)

SYDNEY: Jericho, what's going on?
JACKSON: Unh.

That's why we don't
answer the phone.

Where we gonna go now?

My car. Come on.

We gotta go back for my purse.

We're going to a hotel.

Um, but my makeup.

Uh, I look terrible.

You look beautiful.

Pardon me?

I said you look fine.
We're not going back for your purse.

(SQUEAKING)

SYDNEY: Jesus, man.
This is getting to be real shit.

Where the hell are we now?

You sure travel in weird circles.

- I didn't know a hotel was here.
- Neither does anyone else.

For the time being, you can consider
the Hotel Hoover your home.

Hoover? Nice name, heh.

- Should be clean anyway.
- Yeah.

(DINO GROWLING ON TV)

There. There's the
hand that feeds you.

Yabba-dabba-doo.

FRED (ON TV):
I dare you to bite it.

- Bite him, Dino. Bite him. Bite him!
FRED: Go on! I dare you! I dare you!

(FRED YELLS)

All right. That'll hold him.

(BARNEY CHUCKLES ON TV)

- Hello!
KID: They stole the bell.

They'd steal me
if I wasn't nailed down.

JACKSON: You son of a bitch.
- Heh.

The force may fade...

BOTH: but the reflex never dies!

If you wanna be alone,
I'll wait in the car.

Sydney, I wanna introduce
you to an old friend.

Paradise Valley has
produced two great fighters:

Joe Louis and Kid Sable.

Pleasure to meet you, Mr. Louis.

(GRUMBLES)

KID: Oh, boy.

Got a real fight fan there.

What happened to Detroit's
favorite son?

We don't hear your
name much anymore.

And all them highfalutin
ambitions you had.

She divorced me.

A wife divorce a man at the first
sign of trouble ain't much of a wife.

Seem to me, nobody asked you.

Seem to me like you're right.

Vinnie Weldon, remember him?
What was it you did to him?

The Sable Surprise.

Soften him up with a right, knock him
flat with a left out of nowhere.

But it's the footwork
that fooled him.

(KID AND JACKSON CHUCKLE)

I need a room on an unoccupied floor.
She's got a sweet tooth.

Room 214. We call it
the Presidential Suite.

Shower works sometimes.
No roaches.

I'll have Einstein bring some breakfast
first thing in the morning.

(JACKSON SIGHS)

Wasn't the makeup
you wanted, was it?

Leave me alone.

Why you doing it?

What else is there?

That's not a good answer.

Jackson, what do you want? Huh?

There's a whole lot of things I do
that I don't want to think about.

A shot a day, hey.

I do all the forgetting I need.

Is that good enough for you?

One more chance. Wanna fuck?

No, thanks.

Fine. Good night.

(SIGHS)

(WATER SPLASHING)

Let me in.

Open the door, Jackson.
Believe me, they all look the same.

I got your fix.

(KNOCK ON DOOR)

Rat poison? Yuck, yuck, yuck.

Everybody's a comedian.

Easy, kid.

You're Action Jackson.

Heh, yeah, right.

Some action.

Fine-looking woman like me,
and you don't touch me?

You either gotta be queer or a cop.

I'm not queer.

Sergeant Jericho Jackson,
13th Precinct, City of Detroit.

I wanna get to Dellaplane.
You can help.

What's Dellaplane
got to do with me?

You kidding? He owns you.

- He rents me.
- Six of one, half dozen of the other.

Either way, consider us joined
at the hip till I close this case.

Oh, so you need me?

What makes you think I
need a junkie like you?

If it weren't for me, you'd be
splattered all over your apartment.

Now, hurry up.
We got some people to see.

(CHATTERING)

Is it okay if we stop for a fix.
Just a little one?

Sorry, Sydney.
You're just gonna have to make do.

Oh.

Sorry, Jackson. You're just
gonna have to make do.

- Heh.
JACKSON: Son of a bitch.

What the hell have
they done to my car?

Do you know how long
I've had this car?

Do you know how much work
I've put into it?

Do you know how much
a prime-conditioned...

'66 Chevy Impala
convertible is worth?

Are we gonna play "You Know How"?
Because I got a good one.

You know how bad I need a fix?

Why not have your police
buddies track the stolen parts?

- Be quiet!
- Oh, how foolish of me, expecting...

Excuse me, man.
Sorry, man, sorry.

Fuck a duck.

He was an informant named
Papa Doc. He worked here.

Did you take my wallet?

Oh, you sure are some
kind of a detective.

You could teach
Mr. T a thing or two.

With thinking like that,
you'll be in the A-Team in no time.

Let's see what Papa Doc
can tell us about Dellaplane.

(SOUL MUSIC PLAYING OVER SPEAKERS)

What can I do for you?

I'm looking for Papa Doc.
Wonder if he still works here.

MAN: Wonder no more.

If you'll hold on a moment,
I can lead you to him.

JACKSON: Hold up. Hold up.

I thought we were
attached at the hip, huh?

Ah, don't worry.

They give me any smack,
I'll be sure to save some for you.

Well, I'll be here if you need me.

- Where is he?
- Open it up.

What is it, a secret passage?

Heh. Open it up.

Jar.

(CHUCKLES)

- That's Papa Doc?
- Heh.

It's his balls.

(GRUNTS)

Damn.

Wake up.

Damn, you a big john.

What?

You think I'm geechie or something?

Don't bogard me, lightfoot.
There's nothing we'd like better...

than to take a Tom Slick like you
and have a blanket party.

(ALL CHUCKLE)

You know something? I don't
understand what you're saying.

(GRUNTS)

You're dissing me.

Don't diss me. I'm gonna
break it down to you.

See, you be a Charlie Irvine...

and we gonna tap
dance on your lips.

And then we gonna
deprive you of your...

Your frick and frack.

(ALL CHUCKLE)

I don't understand a
word of it, do you?

All right, okay.
Hey, you, old man.

He ain't giving up no air.
I think we have to jam him up his shit.

Hello, my friend.

Hello.

What he was trying
to ask you is this:

Why you looking for Papa Doc?

Where is he?

We try this one more time,
very slow.

And you watch the bouncing ball.

Why you looking for Papa Doc?

Where is he?

(GRUNTS)

MAN 1: You better answer, man.

You piece of shit.

(CHUCKLES)

Papa Doc was a very valuable
source of information to us.

A regular Library of Congress.

Unfortunately,
like so many libraries...

his books were open to the public.

You ever heard the
sound a man makes...

when he gets his balls cut off?

(CHUCKLES)

- No.
- No?

(CHUCKLES)

Then you're in for a big treat.

Because it's hot dog time.

(ALL CHUCKLE)

MAN 2: You're gonna sing for us.
But the question is...

will you sing as a man?

Or a woman?

(ALL CHUCKLE)

Cut him.

What you doing with my brother?
Playing doctor?

Get your ass out of here.

You're his sister?

Of course I'm his sister.

Wait a minute! Come here!

The boy ain't driving
with a full tank.

Spent a year in Bellevue.
Got this delusion he's a holy messenger.

He's more oral than Oral Roberts.

Listen to him.

Yes!
Yes, I was sent!

I was sent to bring you down,
brother!

I was sent to bust your asses
and wipe these streets clean!

- I am the man!
MAN 2: Why looking for Papa Doc?

You may possess his manhood,
but his soul's free and clear!

He's got a plate in his head.

Somebody give me an amen!

This motherfucker's crazy, man.

I give myself an amen.
Amen! Ha, ha.

Yes, I can hear it!

I can feel it! I can feel it!

Allow me, allow me to lay my
healing hand upon you! Yes!

(YELLS)

JACKSON: Hey, brother.

Surely you won't leave
before you give me an amen?

(CHUCKLES)

Amen.

Let's get out of here.

I saved your life back there.

You got it wrong.
We saved each other.

Did you think they'd
let us out on a song and dance?

I don't know.
I'm a pretty fine singer.

Back there you seemed
like a fine dancer.

If you're saying we make a team,
I beg to differ.

You got something against women?

No. Just against junkies.

You got a quick mind.
Ever think you're wasting it?

Gotta remind me?
Ain't thought about it in 10 minutes.

- Got that taste back in my mouth.
- Come on.

Go on upstairs.
Gotta talk to the Kid.

You trust me to go upstairs alone?

Yeah, I guess I do.

Where have you been?

I've been looking for Papa Doc.

I could've saved you time.
The man is dead.

His balls is in a jar
at Snooker's Pool Hall.

I know. They almost
had a little company.

You need a new source
of information.

(KID CHUCKLES)

Tell you what to do. Go down
to Dee Love's Barbershop...

on the corner of Custer
and Saint Antoine. Ask for Dee.

(UPBEAT POP MUSIC PLAYING OVER SPEAKERS)

Dellaplane's former partner
was a multimillionaire...

and an all-around deviant
named Enzo Catelli.

Catelli lived in Rome, and as a defense
against kidnapping attempts...

formed an elite group
of bodyguards...

which he called
"The Invisible Men"...

due to their
almost demonic ability...

to remain completely undetected.

- But Catelli's dead, isn't he?
- Alas, he had no defense...

against his bodyguard's greed.

Dellaplane financed
Catelli's demise.

And the untimely departure of
the first Mrs. Dellaplane as well.

He might even have deployed
them against you...

but, uh, your demotion
made that unnecessary.

Were they also responsible
for the AWA killings?

Mm, undeniably so.

Norman was decapitated
in an auto accident.

Stringer was defenestrated.

And Grantham joined the debris
in the Detroit River. Ha!

It is likely that they intended to
denounce Dellaplane and defy...

his determined attempts to
devise a power base in the AWA.

But alas, motives are
not my department.

Just the delivery of details.

How can I talk to Oliver O'Rooney?

Oh, he can usually be found
late at night at the Red Devil.

Unless I am deceived.

Dee, thanks a lot.

- As I said, I can't pay you but...
- Oh, oh.

I'm always delighted
to help a detective.

Especially the defiantly...

indefatigable Action Jackson.

I'm back.

Sydney?

Sydney?

Damn.

Where's Sydney?

She didn't go by me.

Got a pusher in the building?

I run a respectable hotel.

Calls himself Mr. Quick, room 303.

Easy on the door!

Heh, the rabbi says to the Pope...

Kornblau, please.
Put a sock in it, huh?

I got roaches that
tell better jokes than you...

and they don't laugh during
the punch line all the time. Thank you.

Wasn't that Jackson's
car back there?

- Always one when you don't need one.
- She's with me, motherfucker!

Bad career move.

(GRUNTING)

JACKSON: Watch your language
in front of the lady.

Oh, you don't wanna pull
that shit on Action Jackson.

This is Action Jackson?

(LAUGHS)

This will be easier than I thought.

I'm gonna cut you deep, fucker.

Oh, very good.
You write your own material?

DEALER: Your ass is mine.

That's exactly what
I was gonna say.

I'm gonna kick your heart and shove it
down your throat, you cocksucking...

(LAUGHS)

Fuck you.

I warned you about the language.

It's his car.

(BOTH YELL)

LACK: Jackson, stay right there!

- Come on.
- There's no fire escape.

You gotta learn to leap
before you look. One...

Would you like a double bed?

Two...

three!

(BOTH YELL)

Jackson!

Why are we running?
You're a cop, aren't you?

Of course I am.
That's why we're taking this. Get in!

Stop!

Come on!

I could recommend a good
bathhouse if you like. Heh.

LACK: Stop the car!

Police...!
Jackson! Stop!

KORNBLAU: Whoa, whoa!
LACK: Police!

Police emergency!
We're taking your car!

The fuck you are!

Should we run after him?

Kornblau, you ever have your
head rammed up your ass?

I don't think so.

Well, mark it on your calendar.
That day is coming.

Why haven't you answered my question?
Why are we running from the cops?

Dellaplane shot his wife and
put the body at my place.

The cops think I did it.
Are you gonna help me or not?

Why should I trust you?
You're a cop.

You're wanted for murder.
Your name is Action?

Give me a break. I need a fix.
Give me a few bucks and drop me off.

You won't live long
enough to enjoy it.

Dellaplane's gonna kill you too.

(HORNS HONKING)

- What are you doing?
- You want a rush?

I'll give you a rush.

- What do you want?
- Help me nail him!

- I don't have to.
- Wanna let him kill you?

- Why waste time, this is quicker!
- Stop, Jackson!

- You're crazy.
- I need your help.

- Stop the car!
- I can't do it without you.

- I'll help you!
- I didn't hear!

I said all right! I'll help you!
I'll do it!

(TIRES SCREECH)
(SYDNEY SCREAMS)

- That wasn't so bad, was it?
- Why do I put up with your shit?

It must be my charm
and my good looks.

(BOTH CHUCKLE)

It sure the hell
isn't your driving.

(CHUCKLES)

JACKSON:
He should be in the Red Devil bar.

Get him as far away from
Dellaplane as possible.

You understand what to do?

SYDNEY: Of course I understand.

Oh. But I feel like shit.

I feel like my teeth are hollow
and my gums are made of dry rubber.

And like someone's trying to start
a bonfire in the back of my head.

I think I felt that way once.

Heh. They called it love.

(CHUCKLES)

(SIGHS)

- You were married once, weren't you?
- Yeah.

- She divorced me two years ago.
- Why?

She felt my career was
advancing in the wrong direction.

(SIGHS)

SYDNEY: Hey, Jackson.

It's her loss.

(UPBEAT POP MUSIC
PLAYING OVER SPEAKERS)

Excuse me.

I'm looking for a man named
Oliver O'Rooney.

He's over there.

Mind if I join you?

Hmm?

What's a nice girl like
you doing here?

I'm not that nice.

(CHUCKLES)

Even better.

Dellaplane sent me.

He says he wants to see you.

I don't believe you.

He says it's about tomorrow night.

BARTENDER: Here you are, girls.
Two beers.

O'ROONEY: Heh. I can't believe Dellaplane
would be up this early.

Is he gonna be there or
keep me waiting as usual?

SYDNEY: Don't worry about it, okay?
He's gonna be there.

O'ROONEY: Why the hell's he wanna
meet me out here?

SYDNEY: He probably don't want you
smelling up his house.

Where the hell is he?

Come on, come on.
Let's go.

How much further?

Couldn't he have met us
on the first floor?

I'm sure your convenience
is one of his main concerns.

He's up there.

(O'ROONEY PANTS)

JACKSON: Up here.

O'ROONEY: You're not Dellaplane.

You know who I am?

You're Jackson, the local boy
who didn't make it so good after all.

That's right.
Now what's happening tonight?

Party. Party for Raymond Foss.

What's happening there?

Dinner.

Heh. Dancing.

Don't screw around with me.

(O'ROONEY GRUNTING)

All right. He's gonna kill Foss.

Why?

So I can take his place.

- So I can be union president.
- Who's gonna kill him?

You sure you wanna know?

Do I look like I can't
make up my mind? Who?

You are.

SYDNEY: Jackson!

Jackson!

(HELICOPTER WHIRRING)

DELLAPLANE: I would imagine you have
a thousand questions.

So please feel free to ask.

JACKSON:
Why do you wanna kill Foss?

Controlling the union won't
help your company that much.

That's true, really.
If cars were all I cared about...

it wouldn't be worth the effort,
would it?

But my cars are just a hobby.

See, my real interest, sergeant...

is power.

And the AWA is more than just a union.
It is a power block.

And don't ever underestimate
their strength.

For instance, in 1976...

they helped elect a peanut
farmer to the highest office...

You're saying we have President
Dellaplane to look forward to?

No, not really.

I'm a kingmaker rather than a king.

There's an old cliché that says:
"True power rests behind the throne."

We have a government that's proven
that cliche true, time and again.

Of course, to implement that kind
of power, one must have a tool.

And murder is a tool.

You think, uh, I may like to murder
just for the entertainment value.

I have to admit,
it's a lot of fun once in a while.

My first wife and my partner had to die
because of financial interests.

Patrice, on the other hand,
was becoming a problem.

She was beginning to jeopardize
my entire operation...

and I couldn't stand for that.

The thing that breaks me up...

is my son.

One day, he may have to join them.

You know...

an altercation
in the old prison shower.

That sort of thing
happens all the time.

(CHUCKLES)

So how are you gonna kill Foss
and get away with it? Hmm?

Good question.

Mr. Gamble here
will take care of that.

And he will be dressed
exactly like you at the time.

(WHISPERS)
To most of my guests...

you all look alike anyway.

They'll assume you're
on a mission to kill me...

after your senseless
murder of my wife.

And the interesting thing is,
your getaway car will crash and burn.

Your charred body will be discovered
among the ruins...

and you'll be identified
from your dental records.

And the case will be neatly closed.

Immaculate.

Thank you. Thank you very much.
I think so too.

That only leaves Sydney.

She will die of an overdose.

But not until I fuck her
one last time.

You really shouldn't wear
your heart on your sleeve.

It's very unbecoming.

What do you want from me,
Dellaplane?

What do you want from me?

I want you to die.

JACKSON: Dellaplane.

One of these days, you're
gonna really piss me off.

Thaw, get the gasoline.
We're gonna have us a little barbecue.

Tell me where it hurts.

Hello, I'm Mr. Edd.

You called about a paint job?

(GRUNTING)

(YELLING)

Chill out.

Shit!

(GUNSHOT)

Looking for me?

(GRUNTS)

Barbecue, huh?

How do you like your ribs?

(BAND PLAYING CLASSICAL MUSIC)

(CHATTERING)

Fine, thank you.

Thank you.
Thank you very much.

Thanks.

Thank you, yeah.

Why did you have to bring me?

- You remind me of a friend.
- Why not bring him?

He's dead.

Damn, man. Why'd you
have to tell me that?

KID: I recommend the crab cake.

(EDD & KID CHUCKLE)

Peter, I'm scandalized.
There was no one to park our car.

I'm sorry. I'll see to it.

- Please. Nice to see you.
- You look wonderful.

Something's wrong.
I want you to check out front. Hustle.

Ladies and gentlemen,
can I have your attention?

Ladies and gentlemen!
Your attention, just for a moment.

I want you to meet
our birthday boy...

Raymond Foss! Ray, come on
up here and say a few words.

Raymond Foss.

- Run.
- Run?

- Run!
- Excuse me, sir.

I'm happy to see old
friends here...

to celebrate my birthday with me.

When a man gets to be my age...

all that's left are old friends.

(RAYMOND CHUCKLES)

Really, this evening...

is the happiest evening of my life.

- Excuse me. Sorry, ma'am.
WOMAN: Ow!

Looks like someone else is having
a good time out there. Ha, ha.

Someone should tell that man
there's plenty of cake for everyone.

(YELLING)

(THUD)

(GROANING)

Dellaplane did it!
Dellaplane did it!

He planned...

(WOMAN SCREAMS)

(GASPS)

Get out of the way.

Get the chopper.
I'll meet you there.

Going someplace?

Hey. You're Kid Sable, aren't you?

You better believe it, brother.

ALBERT: Excuse me, sir.

(ALBERT GASPS)

(GRUNTS)

I hope this teaches you,
crime doesn't pay.

Huh?

KOTTERWELL: Jackson!

Where do you think you're going?

You gonna take me in?

Any reason why I shouldn't?

Jackson!
Jackson!

- Fuck it.
JACKSON: Thanks.

Easy, baby.

Get out of the way!

Get out of the way!

You lose.

Hot.

Hotter.

- Hottest!
- Christ!

You haven't learned your lesson?

Teach me.

(SYDNEY WHIMPERING)

SYDNEY: Just shoot him.

Jackson, what are you doing?
Just shoot the son of a bitch.

Jackson, what are you doing?

Jackson, don't do it.

(SIRENS WAILING IN DISTANCE)

(YELLS)

Now you pissed me off.

- How did he miss?
- He didn't.

Are you all right?

Hell, no. I've been shot.

ARMBRUSTER: Check him out.

How bad is it?

Oh. This is one dead
piece-of-shit car builder. Heh.

I want the paramedics and a meat
wagon down here right away.

I want a full report on my desk
first thing in the morning.

- In the morning?
- In the morning, lieutenant.

Lieutenant?

- Lieutenant?
- Is there an echo around here?

You always said you wouldn't team up
with a junkie.

How about an ex-junkie, huh?

Wait a minute. You kidding?

Cold turkey. You can have me
on Thanksgiving. How's that?

Can I have you any sooner?

(BOTH CHUCKLE)

(English - US - SDH)