All language subtitles for Bye Bye Braverman (1968) Sideny Lumet George Segal Jack Warden.ENG1

Bye Bye Braverman (1968) Sideny Lumet George Segal Jack Warden. ENG1

La, la, la, la, la, la, la

La, la, la, la, la, la, la

I'll get it.

I said I'll get it.

When you hear the click of my
hanging up, the time will be exactly 8.

31 and 35 seconds a.m. Sunday
morning early, which is why I'm hanging up.

Tomorrow? It's Inez.

Ray Bevin.

Look, baby.

I have some very, very bad news.

What?

Inez?

What's the matter? Come on.

Go ahead.

He called you. Leslie's father. Go on.

Leslie's dead.

How much did I lend Leslie Braverman? $135.

37.

My God, Inez.
Do you know what you're saying?

Yeah, I know what I'm saying.

A coronary in Brooklyn.

Friday night on the street.

He was in Brooklyn all
this time in the city? How

is it he didn't call me?
That's the very least.

He could have done.

Yeah, look, baby. Am I imposing?

I'm imposing, but I have nobody.

So come over here.
You'll go to the funeral.

You'll call the boys.
Do me that favor.

I don't know what to tell you.

I'm not dressed. I'm not really up.

I haven't even had my juice yet.

I can't squeeze juice.

You'll come here. I'm making breakfast.

Give me an hour.

I'll make an hour and a half.

And God bless you, baby.

Leslie died.

It's really funny what a person remembers.

A million images to choose from. Well,
all right, not a million, but still plenty.

I think of it what the human
being is the human life.

The first thing he thought of was the $137.

Oh, it drained so much energy.

He reminded me of a Russian
peasant with that, that ruddiness,

that stockiness, the kind
who lives forever, Amuzik.

Muzik.

And Amuzik wasn't a peasant.
Amuzik was a member of the

middle agrarian class, which
Stalin wiped out by the millions.

The millions.

All right, little man.

One thing I'm telling you.

You're not going to the funeral.

What's this? You giving me orders?
Fiancé cases?

You're a stooge.
You're a boor. I'm a stooge.

One little good word from
her and you still go crazy.

You babysit, you help Amu, you
lug 500 books up and down the stairs.

And this, this I'll never forget.

The time you left me alone with fever and
swollen glands to go fix her high fives.

I changed the porters.
The needle was shot and I

changed the porters to
you. Everything is fixed.

Anyway, besides, that was the
period, the era, that was the village.

Baker, Bony, you loved the village
so much, you miserable hypocrite.

Then tell me who forced you to move.

You outgrew the village.

You wanted to run, to fly, to kiss them
all goodbye, Leslie and Inez and the boys.

Yippee. Congratulations, you made a point.

Squeeze me some juice.

Go to hell and squeeze
your own lousy juice.

How's that? You heard.

I give in too much to you,
you know, on everything.

My friend is dead.

I think you're a talent, an original.

When it comes to your family that much.

It's all right if I run
around and put myself out.

It's all right, you know, to...

They give you a cousin, Maxie, by
insurance, so I'm losing a good $80 a year.

Birthday parties for their
brats and family circle meetings.

People, I can't stand.

Yeah, for you and
yours it's all right, isn't it?

So don't you dare tell me I
shouldn't go to Leslie Braverman's

funeral because that, that I
assure you, you will not get from me.

Such a mourner.

But when my cousin Harris
died, there was another story.

Change the subject.

He was so sensitive, he
couldn't take it anymore.

I'm going.

I didn't believe in all that rigmarole.

Morrow.

Do you know why you're going?

No.

If you find out, you'll tell me.

I'll tell you.

It's Mrs. Morrow Reef.

Yes.

It's about your husband.

There's been an accident.

Come in.

If you've come here to tell me
my husband is dead, then tell me.

Your husband is dead.

Look.

This will never know his touch again.

His work.

His book.

His notes.

Oh, my God.

There's something even more terrible.

Mrs. Reef, please.

This morning, this morning, I didn't
even squeeze him his orange juice.

So, you wanted to have
breakfast with me, sonny boy.

What's doing?

What's happening?

It's getting quite unbearable
at my place, Papa.

They fired one of the copy editors,
and they loaded some of the work on me.

So, by the time I get home, all I
can do is lie in bed and watch TV.

I can't get near my own stuff.

I'm pooped.

I just don't have the
energy to write a word.

Such problems.

Such a terrible and dreadful cross to bear.

I remember once upon a time there
were poets who were as sensitive as you,

and maybe, God forbid, as talented,
who worked 14 hours a day in shops, 14, 16.

And still they weren't.

They managed not to be so pooped.

They did their scribbling.

They had energy.

They even went out and
tried to make revolutions.

Papa, how often do we see
each other? Often enough.

Once every seven or eight weeks, the most?

Correct, often enough.

You never let up.

You belittle.

You keep on cutting me down.

It's not my fault there are no
more revolutions to be made.

I'll mail you a list.

Only answer me one question,
to ease a father's curiosity.

Those poems you had in that, what
is it, with the pink and green paper?

Serpent's Tongue.

Serpent's Tongue, yes.

How is it, how is it that
you'll, pardon the expression,

a cocker like you comes to write a line,

let's sag the city, tear
the lamppost by the roots?

No, pluck the lamppost.

Pluck, tear, jerk.

I would like to know what it
is you have against the city.

What harm it ever did you?

That's a complete misunderstanding.

You see, actually, Papa, I was mocking.

I was satirizing the poet's
attitude towards industrial society.

You don't say.

You know I feel better.

I was getting very worried.

So what's doing, what's happening?

Papa, I've decided to go back to school.

I need a PhD.

I had to ask.

Um, plus $2,000.

You wanted your own
place, I hope you set up.

You wanted Mexico, it was Mexico.

You wanted Paris, I financed you.

Money every week, from which I
see very little in the way of returns.

No, no, sonny boy, it
doesn't come this easy.

For a few extra bucks,
I stand on my sick feet

and I lecture an hour and a
half to the Hadassah ladies.

And then I spend another hour
answering their brilliant questions.

Mr. Rottenstein, my Debbie wanted
me to ask you about Philip Roth.

Well, you have it, Papa, you have it.

You can spare it.

I'm not denying.

You spend it, too, on
strangers, though, not your own.

What is this? Elaborate a little.

Oh, no, no, drop it, Robert.

No, no, no.

No, it's not important. No, drop it.

No, please.

All right, then, Essie Meltzer.

How much does she
cost you? Plenty, I bet.

And not only her, you send her two boys
to camp and you lay out a small fortune...

Is that so?

...to straighten their teeth, I know.

I also go to Dr. Colotny.

Your own teeth should fall out.

You know, you really weren't so
different when Mother was alive.

You had money for the whole world,

Hottenstein, the big shop.

But when Mother wanted, when
she needed a new winter coat,

oh, boy, what a scene,
what a cry of poverty.

And when she was sick,

when it was a question of two
weeks or a month at the most,

you debated a hundred times before
you wrote a check for a private nurse.

I wasn't too crazy about your
mother, and I like you even less.

All right.

I see where we stand, all right.

And you know what I wish for you?

What Mother had, no more, no less.

I'm just being fair.

Keep an eye on the car!

Okay, sport, it's just
been waxed! Certainly.

...

Professor...

...Cumbrich's essays...

...gathered together...

...yield...

...pleasure...

Thus...

...certainly...

...certainly...

...Professor Cumbrich's
essays gathered together...

...certainly...

...certainly...

What did I do that's
so terrible? Tell me.

Tell me.

Tell me, because I can't
take it from you anymore,

you mad bastard, with your fake sociology.

I was willing to put up with anything.

I might have overlooked the little
coat with the Persian lamb sleeves,

the rhinestone jewelry,

the Helena Rubenstein compact.

I could have found it in
my heart to forgive the fact

that we cohabited, say, 2.6
times a week for five months,

which makes it roughly
conservatively maybe 60 times

before you could be
prevailed upon to stay the night.

Was it my fault? Was it
because my hair is oily and I

have to wash it every few
days and your water is so hard?

Oh, you're clever, huh?

Oh, you're clever!

Shortener of my life, devourer of my days!

Your Bronx cunning showed
you where I was vulnerable, huh?

How to twist that knife!

Where do you get the gall?

Where do you get that affrontry?

Where do you come off with
all that ooh-ing and aah-ing,

that moaning and groaning?

Oh, baby, I love it, I
love it, I love it, I love it.

Where is the style?

The sense of structure?

Are you not aware that the anticipatory
it heralds at the first subject?

You are a wise guy.

You are a big shot.

He forgets I took a few
psych courses in my time, huh?

He doesn't realise maybe,
maybe I have some insight

into the source of his hostility.

Because I refuse to be a masochist.

Because I refuse to ride an hour and ten
minutes on the subway to his mother's house.

And it's positively not appreciated.

She's crazy about you.

With her own hands, she grinds
top round for your stuffed cabbage.

She saves a little jar so you can bring
home apple sauce and chicken soup.

Stuffed cabbage, huh? Chicken soup.

She talks a good meal, your mother.

All I ever got from her
was hard-boiled eggs.

No, no, no, wait, wait, I won't lie,

I won't distort, no,
once, once upon a time,

she actually did open a can of sardines.

Stockings.

She gives you stockings, box after box.

Boxes, you miserable liar,

three lousy pairs she gave me in seconds.

Another thing.

Once is a joke and twice is a joke,

but I'm sick and tired of her,

of her cute little habit of
calling me Mary Murphy

and asking me do I know
what young Kipper is.

Hey, look, we'll spend an hour, huh?

Tops an hour and a half.

Turn purple.

Now, wait a minute,
Scarlett, she's got pot cheese.

She's got sour cream.

Turn electric blue. And onion rolls.

Now, the Bronx girl loves onion.

Are you starting again? What, onion rolls?

Once and for all, I'm gonna teach you.

You're gonna learn a little respect.

Oh, you'll lick your fingers.

It must be some pleasure for
you besides aggravating me.

And cucumbers, oh, now look.

She'll cut up cucumbers.

Turn shocking mauve.

Be nice.

Nothing doing.

Who's young liberal intellectualism?

Don't bother me.

Who is?

Unwillingly grudgingly mine.

Who has talent?

Who has promise?

You and you and you.

I know.

Who will write the definitive
piece on Lawrence?

You.

Now, salient.

You're kidding.

No. Conspicuous.

Seven letters. S blank, blank, blank.

E F blank.

Fitz, I should punch you in the nose.

I'm sorry.

Here.

Maybe you'd like to finish it.

Well, let's pretend that I never sat down.

Then please, get up and get lost.

Tracy, you'd better watch out.

That woman is really pothead in disguise.

What should I say?

So...

Tell me what's happening.

How's the job?

The fundraising work?

Still in the business.

Still with the speeches,
the releases, the letters.

And how's Irma?

Did she finish that thesis finally?

Oh, what a mind on
that kid, I'm telling you.

What kind of Irma?

I think you have your signals crossed.

Edda.

Edda.

I'm sorry, baby, it's not your day.

That's all right.

Oh, sweetie.

Look, honey, you'll do
me a big favor, yeah?

You'll go downstairs.

You'll go into the
delicatessen and make sure

Mr. Deansbury waits on you,
not the wife, a terrible bitch.

You'll tell him, Mr.

Deansbury, my mother wants
two regular coffee and two.

...

Better say four, four prune danish.

Now, you'll bring down these deposit
bottles and the rest you can charge, okay?

You got it, sweetie?

Don't send her up and...

Let me hear about Leslie.

Poor Leslie.

Okay.

Sure.

Poor Leslie.

You know, we were all set for a divorce.

I knew and I didn't know.

I mean, I ran into Harvey
Katzman about a year ago

and he dropped all sorts of
hints, but who could be deaf?

It was building up the years.

I think Leslie lived only
to punish and needle me.

And that's how he got his kicks.

If I was a fly? Hey, come on.

He wasn't such a monster.

And talking like that,

you only do yourself harm.

Sure.

What do I know?

Who am I?

I was only the,
uh, coffee server.

He was the big shot intellectual.

He was the intimate friend
of Kafka and Kierkegaard

while I was rattling cups in the kitchen

and making dialogue with the other
broken-down wives about wee-wee and formula

and spaying cats in the pill and where
do you get the best grade at pharmacy?

Honestly,

you're not being fair.

He...

Leslie was a writer, a creative person.

You couldn't think up his stories
and he couldn't make you a coffee.

And as for these other things,

Tolstoy's wife could make
almost the same complaint.

Go on.

You're talking to the little
girl who slept with him.

I couldn't get him to take a bath.

You know that?

Lemueloni tell me
that's the odor of sanctity.

Ay, Nez, what's so terrible
is far from a revelation.

Believe me, nobody ever said Leslie
was the cleanest person in the world.

You want revelations?

Millie Dreyfus, for instance.

Leslie and Millie Dreyfus?

Anybody could hop in the sack with her.

Without going into detail,

I had plenty of opportunities, plenty.

Look, kid, maybe he
had standards in literature,

but when it came to you-know-what,

it was just a question of
what could fit a mattress.

If Miss America came along, fine.

And if Sadie Schlapp turned up, also good.

Well, look at you.

How he carried on at Bennington.

All those sweet, juicy little things.

He came back with a prostate.

Bennington?

And the foundation work.

Please, please, enough already.

What was he doing in Brooklyn?

I threw him the hell out.

Sweetie.

Good.

Goof will have coffee.

It'll be nice.

I'll do it myself, Mommy, sweetie.

You know he started in to write smut?

My husband, the pornographer.

What's a pornographer?

I thought Leslie was a writer.

Your father was versatile, sweetie.

Uh, come on, come on.

Now let's go and wash your face.

It's almost time to go.

Oh, you're right. I think we should start.

Until you get a cab and everything.

Plus, you should arrive a
little before everyone else.

What am I gonna do with his clothes?

You want them?

Yeah, you come over later.

I'll put them in valises.

You'll take everything.

They'd never fit.

No, it's only right.

Because he was so crazy about you.

Because he'd always
say this is a real person.

A human being.

I'm scared.

I wished him harm.

Do I have to kiss him when he's in the box?

That's what they do.

You beg the dead, take
my sins with you, forgive.

Foolish. They won't go through that stuff.

You'll see.
It's one, two, three, in and out.

No big deals.

Oh, you're such a comfort.

You always were.

What, sweetie? Pornographer.

Later, sweetie, I'll read something.

I'll read something to you.

Yeah, yeah, one second.

It's Falby. Do I look
all right? Hold on.

What's the arrangement?

I thought you and I would go together.

No room. We have to pick up Falby, sister.

That's nice.

It's very nice.
You couldn't make better arrangements.

Look, you'll call up the boys.

You'll let them all know.

You'll all come together.

A big crowd. It'll be nice.

Palau, come.

You didn't tell me where the funeral is.

Tell me.

You know where Ocean Parkway
comes into Prospect Park? I think so.

Near there.

East Park Chapel or Parkway Memorial.

You'll find it. I'm not sure.

Hold on.

There must be at least a...

Yes.

Tomorrow.

What is it?

Wesley Braverman is dead?

Yeah, go on tomorrow.

Sure.

Today? Oh, of course.

Yeah.

Sure.

You and Felix.

Meet you where? All right.

And Holly will pick us
up in his brain or what?

Sir.

I'll see you there.

Yes.

Hello, Morrow. How are... Huh?

Leslie?

No.

When? How? Never mind.

Yes.

Yes.

We'll meet. We'll go.

Yes.

Goodbye.

Hey, you, let up on us.

You're getting cranky and spiteful.

It's already the fifth one in six months.

Gulliver, Schlossberg, Posner, Amsterdam.

Now Braverman.

What are you running up there, a serial?

You couldn't let Leslie alone?
He was hurting you?

Such a wonderful boy.

Such a classy writer.

And what kills me is the way you
keep hands off the lowest of the low.

The fifth or eight times
the ones are no good to you.

Yes.

Right here in this building,
that fat lawyer Klein.

Any time he looks at his
watch, he turns his back on you.

And what about... What about
Nicky, Nicky the Elevator Man?

And what about Max?

Forgive me?

No.

Don't forgive me.

Take Max, my son.

The poet.

Tell Trey to a hymn for Leslie.

No questions asked.

Tomorrow Reef calls you.

I'm caught in the haze.

Very nice.

Look, how was I to know you and
Miss Manelbaum on Sunday morning?

We're finished for
Saturday night, I apologize.

All right.

You having a hot dog?

What else? How about you?

You buying? I'm buying.

I'm having.

Onions? It's our crap.

Still doesn't register.

Was he dead?

Any minute, I expect to
see him come strolling along.

Forty-one.

Forty-one year old Leslie.

Not a perfect person,
but... He had integrity.

Exactly.

Integrity.

He didn't ask for it, he
didn't want it, but he had it.

The way some people
have B.O., he had integrity.

He could spend two days over since.

Because he had such
respect for the printed work.

It was unbelievable.

A guy who must have published
over 200 pieces in his time.

Never fit, an herb his stomach every
time a set of galleys came in the mail.

So what did get him? All alone.

Leslie all alone at the end.

At the end.

He was stopped in the middle.

Better in the middle than at the beginning.

Look at this.

Morrow Reef died.

Who?

Morrow Reef, the writer.

Don't see it in here.

He barely made it in here.

Friend of yours?

No, no, I've read some of his things.

Magazines.

Actually, he worked in fundraising.

Thought his writing was
getting sort of popular.

Too bad.

He was only middle-aged.

Better middle-aged than a kid.

When he was beginning.

No, you're wrong.

Better at the beginning,
you go out sure of yourself.

Because in the middle, good or bad,

you know maybe where you're
going and you want to see it through.

To die there is not too nice.

It's like leaving before the
end of a Hitchcock movie.

I don't know. I've walked out on a few.

An old one, a good one.

The Lady Vanishes.

Oh, that's better.

Or The 39 Steps.

Stranger on a Train.

Not the best.

Yeah, you're right.

Hey, Holly.

God!

God!

Didn't I say cut?

What'd I say? You said cut.

In case you forgot,
Mr. Levine, we've been waiting.

Where the hell were
you? Come on, back.

Easy, easy, easy.

A classic parallel park.

Beautiful.

You've been right, boy.

You've been par.

Nah, never is a dedicated parker.

Come on, come on.

Come on, get in the back.

Go as you're cautioned.

Since you were a kid.

Right, they always had a real bag.

A little room, please.

A person could die in here.

Certainly.

There are 14 different
ways to adjust these seats.

Tilt and rake.

In addition to which, you have far more
head room than the average American child.

Basically, you're riding higher.

There, there we are.

Cross your legs.

See, no banging of the knees.

And support, true
support from these springs.

Very nice.

I should think so small.

Barnett, it's good to see you.

Even under these circumstances.

You saw me yesterday.

Sue me.

Morrow, how you been?

How's your wife?

Etta?

Oh, Etta's fine, fine.

What's the matter, you
can't remember her name?

You should choke on
every meal she ever fed you.

Retroactively.

Well, he may be losing his memory,
but not as fast as he's losing his hair.

You look like an avant-garde Yul Brynner.

Yul Brynner shaves his head.

I'm aesthetic.

And not a castle grumble.

Speaking of avant-garde, what else is new?

Well, there's a possibility,

actually a strong likelihood,

that I shall be giving a
popular culture course this fall.

From Little Nemo to Little Adam.

You're displeased?

Well, I don't know.

I mean, is that for you?

Is it like they say in the
quarterlies, your metier?

My piece on John Ford
has been twice anthologized.

Twice!

Granted, granted.

You'll grasp with the gap between
low-middle and high-middle culture, perfect.

Your cinematic depth
analysis, I wouldn't want better.

I agree.

But when it comes to
comic strips and the such,

huh?

Oh, man, I mean, you just don't know.

Man, he is right.

Now, listen, maybe I'm wrong.

Maybe I'm being less than fair.

In which case, answer me this.

Who used to say in moments of angst,

Golly Moses, I got the win-wins all over.

Rooney, Rooney, Little Annie Rooney.

Uh, let's see.

Don Winslow of the Navy, his rank.

Commander.

Uh, the nemesis of Bim Gump.

Wait, wait.

She wore a veil.

She'd always drug him.

Madam Zenda.

The protectors of Daddy Warbucks.

Punjab, Punjab.

And the acid.

The rinky-dinks.

From who and where?

From Winnie Winkle, the club.

There was Perry, the little brother,
there was Spud, and there was Chink.

And there was
who else? That's all.

That's all? That's
all? I give up.

Come on.

Come on.

One more, the most important one.

More the hothead, the more unfazed.

He always used to say,

Yeah, you're just a good boy, Perry.

I remember.

I recall Enrico, Denny Dimple.

Bear in mind, however,

that he was the last arrival.

That his position on the rinky-dinks
was essentially a fringe position.

He knows everything.

Including, in its entirety, the theme
song from the Fitch bandwagon.

Wait a minute.

Who was the bandleader?

Nobody permanent.

We used guest orchestra.

Here comes the Fitch bandwagon.

Laugh awhile.

Let a smile be your star.

Use Fitch shampoo.

Don't despair.

Use your head, save your hair.

Use Fitch shampoo.

Once again,

from the beautiful Asteroop,

overlooking fabulous Times Square,

in the heart of glamorous Manhattan,

it's time for the meshugana melodies
of Halle Levine and his music machine.

For your listening and dancing pleasure.

Laugh awhile.

Use your head, save your hair.

Use Fitch shampoo.

Don't despair.

Use your head, save your hair.

Use Fitch shampoo.

Laugh awhile.

Laugh awhile.

Such sweet voices, such
maravilous mourners.

Leslie, I envy you, your friend.

Felix, come on! Get in.

Believe me, this will be a tough fight.

Don't put yourself out.

The techno don't have to bother.

Felix, I'm surprised and ashamed.

You're surprised? Don't be.

And when it comes to shame,
Attenstein isn't ashamed.

Attenstein is a simple
person and an individual.

He knows how to love, he knows how to hate.

Thusly, when Scholemach turns no
good, he doesn't talk to Scholemach.

And when the Germans
kill six million of his people,

he does ride in German automobiles.

On the face of it, flawless logic.

And yet...

There is a very old saying,

Who is a hero, he who
keeps down a wisecrack.

Amen. Let him go.

Call him back. He's older. He's sick.

Call him back. Let us be the good ones.

Sick? He'll outlast everything.

Attenstein, Felix.

For Leslie, is it nice?
For Leslie, it's not nice.

Come on, old man. It's all for Leslie.

Who's to say nice? Come on, Felix.

Get in.

All new for Leslie.

It's a good thing Leslie's not here.

Two Fs.

So I'll add an F.

You'll see. It'll be beautiful.

Another F, right here.

R-l-E-F-F.

Then it'll be all center.

There'll be more room
on the left than on the right.

So when you visit the grave,

you'll make sure to
approach it from the right.

The perspective will even it out.

You'll see.

Poor guy.

Poor guy.

Nothing ever went quite right.

Now this.

Why not?

He was stuck with his
life, so he's stuck with this.

All right. Leave it that way. One F.

Who's gonna notice?

Who knoweth Brooklyn?

Stranger, O stranger, I will answer.

I will answer you that only
the hungry-hearted man swarm.

The dreamers of dry dreams and the
wind-spanned, womb-locked avenues

called Pitkin and Church and Neptune
and Ocean and Blake and Rogers and Tilden.

And you know what?

Yes?

It comes to me that instead of
turning off Flatbush Avenue extension,

we would've done better by
going straight through the parkway.

I think somehow you can
pick up Ocean Parkway.

In shock, my mighty young friends?

Hmm.

We are a little bit in the wrong place.

Wait, wait. This is America.

Here you get lost, thank God.

You're not in the desert.
You don't wander for the years.

You stop. You ask.

You're not lost.

A gas station.
The lights clean the restroom.

All is bouncing around.

Good. I can fill her up.

But only Amoco.

There. There. On the right.

No, it's not Amoco.

Besides, it's too small.
They don't sell enough.

Duck and boo in the pumps.

Poison to the valves.

From the same hole in the ground?

Into the same pipe?

Amoco drops 10 points.

Look, Amoco.

Oh, hey, Eureka.

Holly, it's nothing.

You'll get out. You'll see. It's nothing.

It's nothing. You'll see.

Thank you.

A tear for Leslie, no.

A tear for this legacy
from Hitler, of course.

Felix, stop it.

Holly, it could be worse.

A dab here, a push there.
It'll be as good as new.

Relax. It's only a bump.

Maybe a straightening job.

New signal bulb, huh?

Right rear hubcap.

New gasket.

Paint job. Maybe some fender work.

That's it.

What can it cost? It will cost.

Make sure it costs.

A penny for every grain of sand in Israel.

Any of you guys Jewish?

None of your business.

Well, there's nothing
to do with the accident.

Ashamed? Ask me.

Where's the honesty? Attaboy.

You said it.

Now, let me tell you something.

I don't know the kind of Jew you are.

Maybe you fast all day, Yom Kippur.

Or maybe you look at it like me.

You figure it's all a crock.

Next economic factor.

What caused all the war?

Made all the hate?

Religion, right?

What about race? Too obvious.

Religion.

And what's religion? Temple.

Praying.

Holiday.

Nah.

It's making the other
fellow feel nice inside.

It's treating him like he's also a person.

Right?

Very nicely put.

That's the way I look at it.

I should have no wrist.

Like a peasant, right? Right.

I'll show you my kind of guy.

I have a boss.

An Italian.

But he speaks a great Jewish.

Make a haggah, make some schwarzen.

Everything.

Now, a year and a half, he promises me,

he say,

I got to Italy, I bring you a present.

So he goes.

And I get it.

Can you see it? Saint Francis.

I need it.

Like I need a sun lamp.

I just had it waxed.

But my kind of guy, he wears it.

He figures let every day
be brotherhood week.

That's human feeling and toleration.

Don't hurt the next one.

That's my kind of religion.

License and registration.

Bobby, you got mazzled.

You know why?

Because I feel good.

Why do I feel good?
Three reasons.

One,

my kid is going to bellhop in the month.

Look, can I help it if he
wants to be a bellhop?

Anyway, it's only for the summer.

Even a bellhop comes
home 1500, 1800.

Two,

the next four and a half rooms
in my building I absolutely get.

Three,

my wife gave herself
the latest cancer test.

She felt a little lovely.

We go to see the biggest
man in Mount Sinai.

He says goodbye and good luck.

It's only a swollen gland.

With love she don't kid around.

I'll give him luck.

Hey, hey, hey, hey, hey, hey!

Hey, hey, hey, hey, hey!

Hey, hey, hey, hey, hey, hey!

He saw me!

He saw me!

Never mind, I'll call the nearest precinct.

Or better still, I'll take the stupid
moron down and make a citizen's arrest.

Look,

we're on our way to a funeral.

A friend of ours.

What's happening here involves the living.

This is more important.

Respect, my friend.

License to registration.

When I hear apologies, when I
get in some human relations...

This minute.

You think I'm not serious?

What I think is, I think
you're a mischiever.

Not nice.

One intellectual should
call another intellectual a nut.

Why?

Because I'm not a professional?

That's why he opens his mouth on me?

88's I got in all my
regions, except once.

He's nobody's dope.

I'll guarantee he wouldn't
buy a German automobile.

License and registration.

What am I asking? Only respect.

You run into me and
I should respect you?

You're a psychopath,
you son of a bitch! Again.

Just once more.

Which one? Either one.

How about both, you
psychopathic son of a bitch?

Take off the ring.

You remove the watch.

You take off the ring,
I'll take off the watch.

Holly, I looked at
the hubcap again.

It's barely touched.

Right away with the fist.

No communication.

Between the odds, no communication.

You're a chicken.

Chicken?

Take off the ring.

Psychopath?

Look, fellas,

why not fight with open
hands, slapping like?

Stomach counts five points,

face counts for ten.

Whoever gets 50 points first wins.

That's the way we did in P.S. 182.

Wonderful. This appeals to me.

A little friendly boxing.

Tiger, give me your glasses.

No!

Oh, cattle, I'm sorry!

Hey, watch it! Hey, hey, hey.

Look, look, look, look.

Now, you had a nice fight.

You both looked good
and got out of your system.

Now, come on, make nice.

I say it's a draw.

In my book,

you're still a Michigan.

Do we need this?

For what?

For the insurance companies?

For manipulated capitalism?

Who told you to stop?

Go, spill more Jewish blood.

License.

Registration? Here.

Army discharge certificate,

driver's license,

registration,

Hat Bureau certificate,

Social Security card,

a Benet Britt newsletter,

my kid's picture.

How about a lawyer?

You got a lawyer?

A specialist in accident cases?

If not, I recommend
Conniff on Court Street.

Conniff? He's good.

Good, oh, yeah.

Let two A&P shopping
carts collide and right

away somebody's kid
goes through medical school.

I was contemplating a new bumper

and I should check the wheel of life.

Hey, Meshuggah,

hey, Meshuggah,

tomorrow you see Conniff.

Let him take care of it.

Let him aggravate.

Hey, wait a minute.

Hey, wait a minute.

Wait a moment.

Are you black belt?

You're controlled.

It's lovely.

Thank you.

Hey.

L'chaim.

L'chaim.

L'chaim.

I forgot.

L'chaim.

L'chaim.

L'chaim.

Lev, take it with you.

Beep, beep, beep.

Oh, boy.

Oh, boy, oh, boy.

Yeah, a good man.

A good man.

Also a psychopath.

No, no, no, love of humanity.

He makes sense.

I don't trust converts
too much and too late.

No, no.

Good man, full of love.

Who needs it?

We all need love, like we need God.

One and the same.

Right.

God, love, love, God.

God is love.

Love that God.

Love is God.

God is love.

God is love.

One God.

One God, let me hear it.

One God.

God, tell us we're not fooling ourselves.

Show us.

Let us know.

Give us a sign.

What did I do?

You asked for a sign, you got a sign.

You also got my upholstery wet.

You said one God.

One God.

Everybody including him is
flattered being called an original.

Leslie also was one.

An original.

One outlet.

An original.

Everything he came up with.

A style, a point of view.

Definitely.

A secondary talent at the highest order.

There it is.

There's no place for Leslie.

A place like this.

It's on already?

Didn't miss too much.

Come around the side door.

Don't interrupt the rabbit.

Come.

Listen to forward from this family alone.

This father there up front.

Shh.

You think we'll wake him up?

Feeling my nose is starting to bleed again.

Please rise.

The entire congregation, if you will.

The books, please.

Open to page four.

Where the print is big.

Extold and hallowed be the
name of God throughout the

world which he has
established according to his will.

And may he speedily create his
kingdom of righteousness on earth.

Amen.

Praise be to his name and to all eternity.

Praise be to his name and to all eternity.

You know who the rabbi must be?

Must be Leslie's cousin, Julian Bruckner.

The math genius?

The math genius.

What are you talking about?

They have planes the rabbis fly.

Amen.

Please be seated.

Grades, family, friends.

We live in a time,

a generation, a society

that's supposed to be not nice to bellyache
over the pain and trouble of living.

Feel, but don't cry.

Take punishment, but don't show.

Keep everything nice,
neat, under control.

Keep everything inside.

There should be one
tough face for everything.

That's today's living.

Everybody is a James Bond.

Making a protection.

Definitely overblown.

A golden mouthpiece.

Life and death no one
cares about like they used to.

I remember once upon a time you
celebrated a birth and mourned a death.

And in between you recognized clear
and simple that you were growing older.

Aging and dying every minute.

And when a man died no one
was afraid to make a scene.

No one was ashamed
to grieve out loud.

Nowadays they can't
wait to bury and forget.

Make it quick, rabbi.

Simple and quick.

Felix, can you see?

That eye nest there.

There, there.

I can't see a thing.

The body is telling you every
second how you have it too good.

Did you look a little too long and with
too much pleasure at the grandchildren?

Take a few palpitations.

Did the wife find a nice bedspread
and covers for the couch?

Let her have a low back pain.

Did you get a particularly first
class haircut from the barber?

Here, here's a cavity or a
piece off the bridge work.

Did you get a perfect fit in a
cheap suit right off the rack?

Pay for it?

With acid in the stomach and a trifle

too much sugar and albumin in the blood?

Did the father-in-law send the post
guard from Miami in a box of mixed fruit?

Give him a stone in the kidney.

A swelling in the prostate.

Let us pray.

Amen.

Amen.

You're here for the prostate.

I wasted one of the dollars,

Dr. Fishman.

There are no atheists
at the urology clinic.

Stomach acid, albumin, blood sugar.

Do I feel sick? See a rabbi.

Talk to the body

and you talk to an enemy.

Get it along a little.

Tell it how you'll take better care of it.

Staying out of drafts,

no lifting, no bending,

avoiding spicy foods.

I'm hungry.

You'll cut down and you'll build up.

You won't go in on Saturdays.

You'll take more taxis.

You'll think 110 times before raising

your voice or climbing
a little flight of stairs.

It's common sense
that a man ought to do

whatever he can do to get everlasting life.

Some do it by teaching.

Some by learning.

Some by fasting.

And still another by eating.

I'm hungry.

Everyone should see

which way his heart draws him.

And he should choose
this way with all his might.

Which is what the Tzadik
of Lublin used to say.

Personally, I follow the
teachings of the mahogany villain.

We will pray together.

This man who was Morrow Reef,

though who is Morrow Reef,

for he still lives in the hearts and minds
of those who loved and respected him.

This man...

How do I know if anybody
loved or respected him?

I don't know a damn thing
about this box of coke.

Better I should say I'm
glad I'm not in this place.

If I had happened to know
him when he was alive,

I'd be glad I was never in this place.

All I know is he's dead.

While he was alive,

he never killed anybody.

He became famous or changed religion.

That's all I know.

Maybe that's all anybody
who ever knew him knows.

Big deal.

So now I'm supposed to
put him in the hall of fame?

Or make him the statue of the dead?

I'll tell you the truth.

I'm not just talking about him.

I got my work cut up.

Thank God I got a gimmick.

How about another little prayer, folks?

He had very high moral and integrity.

He had intellectual qualities.

Which gave him an interest in everything.

And in everything the desire to excel.

He could hold his own in any argument.

Because where there was a
subject he would come across,

he would read up.

In libraries he became a terrible nuisance.

About certain parts of
Jewish customs and history

he forgot maybe more than I'll ever know.

He had no grounding in social sciences.

Philosophy was very
strong on literature and logic.

But on history I could buy and sell him.

Philosophy I could buy and sell him.

Attention I can buy and sell you.

But he was once also a boy.

A boy of our century.

Even reaching a time where
nothing his parents did pleased him.

Especially his father.

His feelings he'd heard by
his criticisms of everything.

Fights later.

Because his father got enjoyment
out of reading the daily news.

And wasn't happy that
the unions got into his shop.

His shop, the old man, was a button-petal.

Could I go for some Chinese food?

West had departed you had a great
remarkable interest in people and phenomena.

The way he saw the city,
the streets, the people.

He would talk to anybody about anything.

He would buy a pack of cigarettes.

With the cashier would
hand him the matches.

He would say, isn't it strange?

Isn't it strange that I should buy
a pack of cigarettes in Manhattan

and get with it a book of matches
from a diner in Milwaukee?

She doesn't answer.

Here also he was trying to give.

To become part of her existence.

To leave her with a deep idea.

Positively.

Leave her with a deep idea.

I've already talked more than I should.

Maybe more than I wanted to.

But this man, this life was a special case.

Why a special case?

Why a special case?

Everything I've mentioned points to it.

Supports it.

Love, curiosity, compassion.

Because being a special case didn't
necessarily endear him to one and all.

But if we have no room in
this world for special cases,

then whose fault is it?

I think that's all I'm going to say.

Please rise.

Praised and glorified be
the name of the holy one,

though he be above all the
praises which we can utter.

Our guide is he in life and our
redeemer through all eternity.

Refuse to look.

You must.

It's the last time you'll see him.

I already had a last time.

It's enough.

It's different.

Now I feel sick again.

It's only a corpse, a body.

It's a remnant.

It's Leslie.

If you think about it, it's not Leslie.

You're right.

Look.

Look.

Doesn't look like Leslie.

Morris.

Morris.

Morris.

Morris.

I miss sister-in-law.

Morris.

Morris.

Morris.

One hour.

One hour.

We waste listening to
that long-playing rabbi.

That big mouth.

You listened.
You were holding your own services.

I'm sorry. Who said to stop you?

How do we know this wasn't
the right place? Never mind.

Where now?

We'll make a call. We'll find you.

You know something? Maybe we go home.

We've grieved, listened to a service,

looked at a corpse. Maybe that's enough.

Leslie's dead.

What's his name in there? A proxy.

We did our duty.

Shame.

Leslie's here somewhere. We'll find him.

Look at them. Quite a crowd.

Nobody here.

All I see is granite.

Look.

Oh, boy.

! What a faker you are.

! You see exactly what I
see... men, women, faces, eyes.

All right, all right.

So what? I have
nothing in common.

They don't know from me,
and I don't know from them.

Nothing in common. What
are you doing here? Leslie.

So? So? He's one of us.

So? So?

All right, all right.

All right, but him I know, them I don't.

You're not a very sociable person.

Excuse me, Mr. Dale Carnaby.

Go. Enjoy yourself.

Talk to them. Bingo.

What can I tell you?

You're all so smug and you're certain.

Well, let's see.

We got over the depression.

We got over Hitler!

Skizzix is married,

and has his hands full with the kids.

Discount houses are very big lately.

Likewise, um... I don't know.

Mutual funds.

Likewise, paperback books.

Likewise, tolerance. Brotherhood.

Human relation.

Integral harmony.

Likewise, the jets.

All families can chart a
special place to Israel.

Television.

Still stinks.

Black princes from
Africa eat at the automat!

Everybody seems to have good taste.

Still not in grave markers.

Bus drivers are becoming more vicious.

The big department
stores have gone downhill.

Also the big movie houses,

historical novels, wrapping paper,

kitchen matches,

pencil sharpeners, orange drink.

Children don't think death is
impossible for them anymore.

Air pollution is very big.

Infant mortality is down.

Suicides are up.

So is crime.

So is divorce.

Myra Lynn Jack is married.

Warner Baxter,

Richard Dicks,

Clark Gable,

Gary Cooper, Humphrey Bogart.

They all die.

We're going to the moon.

We've orbited the earth.

We can fly anywhere
in the world in half a day.

A two cents plane costs seven cents.

You can't get a good egg cream anywhere.

And laundries ruin your shirt.

Teenage girls are pretty.

Boys are ugly, but smarter.

It looks like there'll
always be war veterans.

Newspaper men know
more than government people.

Everybody would like to be rich.

Somewhere I read it costs
$3,500 a year to be poor.

I don't read Bondy and Dagwood anymore,

or Maggie and Jigs.

Housing developments are bigger.

Planned communities are all over the place.

The doctors have
invented things that could

have kept some of
you alive a little longer.

I don't think you miss too much.

Not really.

Bridge or tunnel?

Who cares?

Whichever suits your convenience.

I have absolutely no preference.

In that case, I say take the bridge.

Save a quarter.

Did I mention anything about money?

Did anyone hear me mention
anything about money?

Don't mention the money.

Do not get me angry.

I just don't want you
to go out of your way.

Bridge or tunnel?

Tunnel or bridge?

I shall be happy.

Tell me the route you all prefer.

There's two for downtown, two for uptown.

So, speaking as one of the uptowns,

I'll cast the deciding vote.

Tunnel.

Here.

Please, take.

My pleasure.

No, no, and no.

I feel like it, Holly.

If I didn't feel like it, I wouldn't do it.

Don't.

Do not get me angry.

I'll let go and it'll fly away.

One,

two, two and a half.

Now, now I'm getting angry.

I'm taking it because you're
pestering and distracting

me and therefore liable
to cause an accident.

God forbid.

But you're gonna get change.

Bart, remind me, change.

I hate to change this earth-shaking
subject you boys have tackled.

Then don't, unless you got a better one.

I do.

Leslie, Braverman, in case
you've forgotten the last name.

Holly, what'd you do today?

Went for a drive in the country.

What about you?

Took a nice walk.

Oh, hung around with the guys.

Sunday, you know, springtime.

Oh, such wits, such clowns.

Felix, what do you want? A tear.

You could cry when they shot King
Kong off the Empire State Building, huh?

You could cry when Wallace Beery
slapped Jackie Coogan... Cooper.

Cooper, and then he punished his hand.

You could cry when Lou Ayers
reached for the butterfly, huh? Bart.

Right, Bart.

When one of you goes away forever,

leaving too soon,

what happens?

My change, please.

Thank you.

Jim?

A dime, quick, a dime.

Mama's probably sick
she didn't hear from me.

You couldn't call her from home?

Two nickels, a dime.

Wade, wait till she answers.

You have two sons. She'd need two phones.

Hello, Mama.

Hey, it's me, Mama.

Listen, will you hold
on a minute? Yeah.

Hey, let's get together this week.

I'll have them make a
split pea and barley soup.

On Thursday...

Hey, Thursday, the Crippett
Theater is starting its...

Randall Scott Festival.

Horner Creek and Frontier Marshall.

Then we'll make a night of it.

First, we'll have the soup...

Oh, look, we'll go first, and
then we'll have the soup.

So it's definite?

Should I check? Anyway.

...

Hello, Mama.

Yeah.

I could have made the U-turn
and dropped you at the door.

Oh, it'll come.

Often Stephen draws the street alone.

I'd say come up, but...

No, I couldn't anyway. I got work to do.

You didn't see how we fixed this place up.

Next.

No invitations when
you're in the neighborhood,

even if you're not in the neighborhood.

Yeah, yeah.

Holly!

It's not bad, honest.

You'll see.

Yeah.

We'll talk.

I'm home.

Honey, I'm home.

Are you sorry?

About this morning?

You didn't make me
juice, and I should be sorry.

I made you Jell-O.

I feel for Jell-O.

You called.

Why didn't you call?

I could have told you to bring bananas.

I'll do without bananas.

I can live without bananas in my Jell-O.

And believe me, take my
word for it, I couldn't call.

Listen, uh...

Listen, you don't know what a day I had.

You don't know.

I'll tell you something.

Bye Bye Braverman (1968) Sideny Lumet George Segal Jack Warden. ENG2