Original subtitles

(Driving My Life Away by Eddie Rabbit)

♪ Well the midnight headlights blind you on a rainy night ♪

♪ Steep grade up ahead, slow me down, makin' no time ♪

♪ But I got to keep rollin' ♪

♪ Those windshield wipers slappin' out a tempo ♪

♪ Keepin' perfect rhythm with the song on the radio ♪

♪ But I got to keep rollin' ♪

♪ Ooh... I'm drivin' my life away ♪

♪ Lookin' for a better way ♪

♪ For me ♪

♪ Ooh... I'm drivin' my life away ♪

♪ Lookin' for a sunny day ♪

(dial tone)

♪ Well the truck stop cutie comin' on to me ♪

♪ Tryin' to talk me into a ride said I wouldn't be sorry ♪

...by the Organized Crime Strike Force for the Eastern District...

(whispering): Excuse me, sir. It's about Harry Barber.

♪ Hey, waitress, pour me another cup of coffee ♪

♪ Pop it down, jack me up, shoot me out, flyin' down the highway ♪

♪ Lookin' for the mornin' ♪

♪ Ooh... I'm drivin' my life away ♪

♪ Lookin' for a better way ♪

♪ For me ♪

♪ Ooh... I'm drivin' my life away ♪

♪ Lookin' for a sunny day ♪

♪ Well the midnight headlights blind you on a rainy night ♪

♪ Steep grade up ahead, slow me down, makin' no time ♪

♪ But I got to keep rollin' ♪

♪ Those windshield wipers slappin' out a tempo ♪

♪ Keepin' perfect rhythm with the song on the radio ♪

(helicopter whirring)

♪ But I got to keep rollin' ♪

♪ Ooh... I'm drivin' my life away ♪

♪ Lookin' for a sunny day ♪

♪ Ooh... I'm drivin' my life away ♪

♪ Lookin' for a better way ♪

♪ For me ♪

♪ Ooh... I'm drivin' my life away... ♪

(country music playing)

(woman sighing)

- You look terrible. - Thank you.

Oh, uh... Olivia Newton-John?

- Debbie Harry. - Oh.

You know, Blondie? (footsteps approaching)

What's wrong with you?

- The usual, John? - Yes.

- Okay. - No, actually...

Uh, could I please get the banana muffin and...

a double-decker cheesecake with a chocolate fudge cookie,

the strawberry cream pie with extra cream, please.

You know what?

Just... just give me anything with... the word "fudge" in it.

That'd be great.

Okay.

- Thank you. - Molly?

Coffee.

What's going on?

Well...

You know how much I love you, right?

- And? - And so...

there's something that I gotta tell you and...

it's gonna sound a little, uh, surprising.

And you're really not gonna like it.

Yeah, I'm getting that I'm not gonna like it.

But I don't want you to, like, flip out on me.

- Just shut up and talk. - See?

Now, I don't want to tell you because... - Speak!

I'm not who you think I am.

(engine revving)

(Funk 49 by James Gang playing)

(engine keeps on revving)

(music slowing down)

(rock music playing)

(tires screeching)

♪ Sleep all day, out all night ♪

♪ I know where you're going ♪

♪ I don't think that's acting right ♪

♪ You don't think it's showing ♪

♪ Jumpin' up, fallin' down ♪

♪ Don't misunderstand me ♪

♪ You don't think I know your plan ♪

♪ What you trying to hand me? ♪

Whoa! (cigarette burning)

♪ Sleep all day, out all night ♪

♪ I know where you're going ♪

♪ I don't think that's acting right ♪

♪ You don't think it's showing ♪

(rock song playing in distance)

(engine idling)

Shit.

(engine stopping)

Hey, Officer.

You again, huh?

Well, that figures.

Have we met?

Wrote you a ticket last week, speeding on Federal.

(clicks pen) You were driving a '69 Mustang.

'68, actually. I...

I traded her in.

For a '69 GTO?!

This bad boy's got 350 horsepower, stock, off the shelf.

Say what?

What d'you have in that Mustang? 394 barrel?

Yeah, but she only had 320, and that was tops.

I guess you could've slabbed a three-carb intake on it.

Those aluminium manifolds ain't worth a damn, though, huh?

- Yeah, right. - What's your name again?

Steve McQueen. (clicking tongue)

Yeah. And I'm Ali MacGraw.

Cut the shit, turtleneck.

Give me your license.

Harry James Barber.

Your real name's Harry?

Harry James Barber.

And you changed your name because of a bunch of speeding tickets.

- I changed my name because... - Because why?

Because the FBI's looking for me. Eight years ago, I robbed a bank in California.

Bullshit.

It was the biggest bank heist in U.S. history. Look it up.

(soft jazzy music)

(metal creaking)

(woman): Enzo!

Bobby Lohman's here.

Hoffa got reamed big-time by Nixon.

Had to drop trousers, bend over the warden's desk

for a good dose of Tricky Dicky to get out of the pen.

- Fuck Nixon. - Exactly. That's the whole idea.

We're gonna rip off the President of the United States.

It doesn't get any bigger or better than that.

How much we talking here?

Could be as much as 30 million.

(whistles)

Hold on a sec. Does Hoffa know you're pitching this to us?

What Jimmy Hoffa knows or doesn't know is for him to know, not you.

- I just wanna make sure it's solid information. - I told you, it's sterling fucking silver.

Our guy was in the room when the White House capos

were shaking down the Dairy Board for off-the-book campaign contributions.

I even, uh, got a little souvenir.

For you. Keep it. I'll be waiting for your call.

Seems too good to be true.

- Why would Bobby make up shit like this? - It just don't compute.

I mean, everyone knows Nixon's gonna win re-election hands-down, right?

Why would he put all this bag money in a bank in California?

Because he's a crook. And crooks don't know how to stop

when they're ahead, so it computes perfectly.

We hit the bank, take the 30-mil,

and Nixon can't do squat 'cause the money's filthy dirty.

Seems like the President of the United States could do whatever the fuck he wants to do.

He's got the CIA, the FBI,

the ATF and the IRS.

It's like an alphabet-soup enema.

No, thank you. I'm out.

It's the commander in chief who's gonna be shitting in his pants, Pauly, not us.

Jesus, I know you fucking hate Nixon.

He's a cocksucker.

And a motherfucker.

And a bullshit artist...

Yeah, I know. I've heard this already.

Nixon's hosed the steel companies here in town.

He's trying to flush the unions down the crapper,

he's out there killing college kids with fucking M16s,

bombing naked little Cambodian children,

running around the fucking rice paddies.

And he's cramming 200,000 American boys into a fucking meat-grinder called Vietnam!

- This isn't personal, Enzo. - Oh, no? I didn't know that.

We're professionals. We don't know shit about California.

Why don't we just stick to our own backyard?

Life is too short. We're not getting any younger.

Stop! Stop with the "we're not getting any younger" bullshit, okay?

You wanna retire? Go fucking retire.

But I'm not giving up this kind of action to go play bingo in the basement of Saint Ignatius.

Mm-mm. Not me.

I'm just saying, we're not hurting for cash flow.

We got a lot of business here.

$30 million.

(shaking matches)

I'd say business is lookin' up.

(Crimson and Clover by Tommy James)

♪ Now I don't hardly know her ♪

(duct tape tearing)

♪ But I think I could love her ♪

♪ Crimson and clover ♪

Tommy! Tommy!

That's my brother, Tommy.

He just got back from Vietnam.

I didn't know you had a brother.

(secretary): Harry!

Enzo wants to see you.

Nearly 40,000 American soldiers have died in the Vietnam War. And despite...

(Harry): Yes, boss! (clinking)

What is that thing?

No, don't! Don't, don't touch.

It's a memento mori clock.

A what?

(sighing) - It means "remember to die."

It's from the 1700s and it's worth about 17 grand.

- Does it work? - It will when I'm done with it.

- You wanted to see me? - Yeah, come here. Take a look at this.

This is a burglar alarm from a bank in California.

It's something I've never dealt with before.

I want you to look around town and see if you can find one.

If you do, take photos. You got it?

- Yes, boss. - 'Cause if you fuck this up,

you'll be stocking vending machines for the rest of your natural life.

Oh, and Harry.

Keep a low profile.

(train horn blowing)

(grunting)

(alarm ringing)

(Free Ride by The Edgar Winter Group)

♪ The mountain is high the valley is low ♪

(alarm ringing)

♪ And you're confused on which way to go ♪ (siren wailing)

♪ So I've come here to give you a hand ♪

♪ And lead you into the promised land ♪

♪ So come on and take a free ride ♪ ♪ Free ride ♪

♪ Come on and stand here by my side ♪

♪ Come on and take a free ride ♪

(siren wailing) (alarm ringing)

♪ All over the country I've seen it the same ♪

♪ Nobody's winning at this kind of game ♪

♪ We gotta do better it's time to begin ♪

♪ You know all the answers must come from within ♪

♪ So come on and take a free ride ♪ ♪ Free ride ♪

♪ Come on and stand here by my side ♪

♪ Come on and take a free ride ♪

(tires screeching)

(alarm continues to ring)

Please, make it stop!

Make it stop! - What the fuck?

What the fuck is that?

(screaming)

(Enzo): Get this the hell outta here!

(grunting) - What the fuck? What the fuck?

(exclaiming)

Hey!

(panting) You even know what "low profile" means?

- What? - I said get photos. Huh? Photos!

Photos wouldn't have told you...

(alarm stops ringing) ...that the alarm ran on batteries.

(Harry panting)

Now we know that cutting the electricity... would've done shit.

(Enzo chuckles)

Oh. C'mere.

(sighing)

You got balls.

(sniffing)

Torch the car.

What? This...

this is a Pontiac GTO, man. This is gonna be a classy car someday.

That's great. Always torch the car after a job.

- I just stole it last week. - Really?

Lesson fucking learned.

(fire burning)

(sniffing) (whispering): Torch a car right after every job.

Can't believe this guy.

(grunting, sniffing)

(Enzo): What are you, crying?

You got something in your eyes? Huh?

Turn in your uniform.

What's that mean?

It means turn in your uniform.

What am I supposed to do? How am I gonna get another job?

I got speeding tickets that've gotten a warrant by now.

Yeah, I gotta take care of those,

'cause you can't drive for me with outstanding warrants.

You mean...

I'm in?

Yeah, you're in.

(quietly): Yes!

Can I hug you?

(Harry sighing) - I should have my fucking head examined.

You won't regret this.

I already do.

Uncle Enzo, um...

What about Tommy?

Don't press your luck.

Round everybody up. Class is in session.

There's the motion detector.

That's what triggered it when Harry ripped it off the wall.

Look, see that? No wires.

Works from a radio signal... (chuckles)

I gotta tell you, it took me five minutes to pick the lock on the bench here.

There's no way that I... can do that hanging off the roof of the bank.

I don't know why we're gonna bust our balls with some Pinas guy bank job

in some fucking lagoon. - It's Laguna Niguel, okay?

It's Spanish for... something. I don't fucking know.

Just... just stop the "we don't need this job," okay?

You said you can't pick the lock upside down. How you gonna shut off the alarm?

I'm working on it. (scoffing)

Better do better than that if you expect me to back you up.

I know how you could do it.

- You got some stuff here. - Yeah, wipe your mouth.

It's disgusting. (Enzo): What?

When Tommy got back from Nam,

I went and met him in California,

and he had this buddy that worked at a surf shop, right?

And in his shop, he had this shit in an aerosol can,

and he'd spray it in the surf boards into the dents.

Anyway, it'd come out goopy, right. And then, after a few seconds,

it'd expand, swell up like crazy.

And then, after a couple of minutes... it would go rock hard.

So they could shape the surfboard, you know, uh, trim it, sand it, you know.

The surfboards looked, like, brand new. - Okay.

So we all know how to fix a surfboard now.

What the fuck does that have to do with the alarm?

Squirt the goopy shit through the vent,

let it expand, harden, it'll stop the dinger from hitting the bell.

Son of a gun. (chuckles)

I like this kid.

(soft jazz music) (cash register dings)

(Harry): Molly? Honey?

Come out here, sweetie. - Go away.

Okay, I'm coming in.

Do not come in. Seven years we've been together,

and this is how you break up with me?! - Wait, what?!

You're too chickenshit to say you're breaking up with me,

so you come up with this... bullshit story instead.

- I'm tellin you the truth. - Oh, sure. You're wanted by the FBI.

You know what? If you wanna leave, fine. Just leave.

Just don't make me into a fool!

(panting)

What is this?

I was in the post office yesterday and I saw my own face staring back at me.

- You coloured your hair. - Yeah.

And you... you curled it.

Yeah, to look like Steve McQueen.

(chuckles)

Well, I guess there's a first time for everything!

(softly): Can we please go back to the table? - Why? So you can lie to me some more?

I'm not lying.

You lied to me from the moment you said, "Hello, my name is John Baker."

So don't tell me you're not lying.

Who are you?

(Draggin' the Line by Tommy James)

♪ Making a living the old hard way ♪

♪ Taking and giving my day by day ♪

(Enzo): Hey, Steve McQueen, slow down.

We don't need no speeding tickets.

Nobody knows we're in California.

Let's just keep it that way.

- If you see any movie stars, pull over. - Yeah, could use some Hollywood poontang.

Like that hippie chick on Mod Squad? Wouldn't mind slippin' her the high hard one.

Hippie chicks? Shit, no. If I liked hairy armpits, I'd be a homo.

But you know who I do like? I love that girl, what's her name,

that actress on, uh - what's the show? - All in the Family.

- Edith Bunker. - Jesus Christ, no! Not Edith Bunker.

The fucking daughter, the one with the big tits.

- Goldie Hawn. - Not Goldie Hawn.

She's on Laugh In. I got bigger tits than her.

I'd nail Goldie Hawn, tits or not tits. I bet she's a real spinner.

Just fucking forget about it.

- Sally Struthers. - Sally Struthers! There you go!

- "Sally Smothers." - Jesus Christ.

Somebody put a bullet in my head and put me out of my fucking misery back here.

(mimicking gunshots)

(Enzo): Hey. Hey, that's it. Knock it off! Come on, drive the car.

Just sit back and enjoy the scenery. You're acting like a bunch of children.

Just look out the window, where you got the ocean.

There you got palm trees and everything. My God.

Palm trees look like candles on a birthday cake when they catch fire.

♪ Draggin' the line Draggin' the line ♪

♪ I feel fine ♪

♪ I'm talking about peace of mind ♪

♪ I'm gonna take my time ♪

♪ I'm getting the good sign ♪

♪ Draggin' the line Draggin' the line ♪

♪ Draggin' the line Draggin' the line ♪

♪ Draggin' the line Draggin' the line ♪

♪ La la la la la la la ♪

♪ Draggin' the line Draggin' the line ♪

♪ Draggin' the line Draggin' the line ♪

Oh, yeah. This place is groovy.

Yeah, this place looks like a porno.

Yeah, nice.

Hey. Check this out.

(birds chirping)

(golf club swinging) You see that building?

Just the other side of the golf course.

- That's the bank. - Yep.

- Good job, kid. - Thanks, Enz.

Talk about a hole in one. (chuckling)

(Pauly): The fuck is that vat for? We gonna crush some grapes?

(Harry): That's a hot tub.

What the fuck is a hot tub?

Look at this, boys. Like a picture fucking postcard.

No shit, huh? After this job, I'ma get me a fucking hot tub.

Once we're in the crawlspace,

I'll cut the direct lines to the alarms and sensors.

- Cool. - Yeah.

Polly will drill into the vault ceiling to place the dynamite.

That is so cool.

Yeah. And we're gonna blow right through that thing.

Now, the burlap bags, Tommy will fill with soil from the planters.

And that will be used for...

Uh, to muffle the sound of the blast.

Yes, and to direct the blast downward, not up.

(pounding on table) - Genius.

And if everybody does their job,

we should be looking at Nixon's milk money...

(glasses clinking) ...within an hour.

(laughing)

(seagull cawing)

You ever read that Jonathan Livingston Seagull?

Yeah, I heard that's a pretty good book.

You know, you'll never look at those cock-sucking birds the same again,

I'll tell you that much. - Smart birds.

Oh, you have no idea.

(golf club swinging) (golf ball hitting door)

What the fuck?!

Hey! Motherfuckers!

Sorry! I shanked my drive!

I'll shank you, you sherbet-coloured asshole!

Hey! Fuck you!

Fuck me? Fuck you!

I'll shove that fucking putter up your fucking ass!

It's a driver, you moron! (Enzo): Jesus H. Christ!

What the hell are you guys doing?

You're supposed to be laying low.

You gotta keep your cool, Ray. All of you.

Harry's the only one here with a modicum of intelligence.

What's a modicum?

(Enzo): Get out of that thing, will ya?

Everybody get dressed. We're going to look at the bank.

Remember the bank?

(police siren whooping)

(indistinct chatter)

The bank manager says they leave at 5:30 p.m. on Friday,

and don't return until Monday at 9 a.m., so the break-in could've occurred

any time between... - Good morning, Sharon.

Good morning, sir.

(police-radio chatter)

What do you think that is? - It's not bird shit.

Whatever it is, it sure did shut that alarm up, didn't it?

Huh.

(sighing)

Dammit.

The front and back doors were still locked.

The alarm never tripped, no prints, no witnesses.

The bank manager said he didn't notice anything unusual

until he opened up the vault. (vault door rumbling)

(footsteps echoing)

(seagull cawing)

- This is not local work. - How do you know that?

This is Southern California.

Why break a sweat chopping a hole in a roof

when all you need is a starter pistol and a freeway map?

I'm not sure I follow, sir.

We're the bank robbery capital of the world.

For two reasons: on-ramps and off-ramps.

I mean, the last time I saw a vault job like this,

Frank Sinatra and Dean Martin were doing it.

In that movie.

Ocean's Eleven.

Oh, I never saw it, sir.

- You gotta get out more, Sharon. - Yes, sir.

- I was here on Saturday. - What were you doing here?

Sam plays Little League. This is the pick-up spot for the away teams.

I been doing double duty ever since... Karen and I, we decided to take a little break.

(seagulls cawing)

You didn't notice anything when you were here?

Nope.

Well, how do you blast a three-foot-diameter hole in concrete

without anyone noticing anything?

Well, you gotta be very good, and very lucky.

Or both.

That's the only thing standing between us and Nixon's milk money.

(Pauly): 18 inches of concrete ain't cream cheese.

Nah, Pauly, you could do it in your sleep.

He's gonna fucking wake up a few folks when he sets that shit off.

And what about this joint next door?

Looks pretty quiet to me. Throw in a few extra sand bags, no big deal.

(Ray): Ja-Narly's. What kind of name is that? Italian?

(Harry): It's not Ja-Narly's, it's Gnarly's.

You know, like... extreme.

Radical. Balls out.

- Balls out? - Yeah.

No, fuck that shit. I ain't going to no gay bar.

(Enzo): Come on, let's go around back.

(upbeat music) (indistinct chatter)

Hey, asshole.

You mean this shit is gonna be going on when we're doing the job?

- We can come back when they close. - What, 1 a.m.?

That only gives us four hours before sunrise.

Maybe a little noise is just what we need.

(indistinct chatter)

(crowd cheering)

(man): There you go, number one.

Shake those boobs, yeah! Nice tits!

(whistling, crowd cheering) Oh, yeah!

Look at those babies!

Huh? - Where you going?

- To find Tommy. - Get outta the way.

(woman): I'm from Siena, Italy, but I came across to the U.S.

And your name is Tommy? - Mm-hmm.

(woman): I will call you Tomato.

(inaudible conversation)

I trusted you.

I know.

Like I never trusted nobody before.

I know!

(door bells jangling)

(man): We're not open till noon!

(soft music)

Give me a boilermaker!

(man): I said we're closed.

They're burying my husband at the cemetery across the road,

so I'm gonna need a boilermaker...

and a dollar's worth of quarters.

(exhaling)

Miss?

You're new.

Yeah. Just started last week.

(cash register ringing up)

(grunting)

- I hate pantyhose. - Me, too.

(both): Boilermaker.

(grunting)

(opening bottle)

Thanks.

(coins rattling)

(machine whirring)

(soft rock music)

(sighing)

♪ Cherish is the word I use to describe ♪

♪ All the feelings that I have ♪

♪ Hiding here for you inside ♪

♪ You don't know how many times I've wished that I had told you ♪

♪ You don't know how many times ♪

♪ I've wished that I could hold you... ♪

Rot in hell, Donald Murphy! (bottle shattering)

(door slamming)

I'll have another.

(soft rock music)

Sorry for your loss.

I'm not.

I just put all my eggs in the wrong basket.

You ever done that?

Yeah.

You could say that.

He cheated on me a year ago.

With my best friend.

You know, I never did trust him.

How'd he pass away?

He didn't exactly "pass away"

as much as he passed on the right.

He rear-ended a flatbed truck parked on the side of the road.

He was drunk.

Drunk and... decapitated.

You know, he wasn't exactly still my husband.

I left him.

Moved back home with my folks.

Would've been my ex-husband.

But now... (scoffing)

...I'm the widow Murphy and I get the life insurance.

Ain't karma grand?

You believe in karma.

Yeah, consequences.

Good always equals good, and bad always bites you in the ass,

you just never know when.

(cars approaching)

(indistinct police-radio chatter)

Shit! Shit, shit, shit! No! No! Please don't tell them I'm here!

Hey, guys.

You the new guy?

Yeah.

Uh-huh...

Molly Murphy come in here?

Pfft... who's that?

Young woman, black dress. Is kinda... scrawny-looking.

It's just me, Officer.

I mean, we're not even open yet.

Okay. Well, if you see a chick in a black dress come in here,

you tell her there's a funeral service waiting for her across the road.

Scrawny gal.

Will do, Officer.

(door bells jangling)

(door closing)

Thanks.

So you gonna go to the funeral?

I don't know.

I really just want to keep hiding.

You know the old Vogue Theater?

- Of course. - Well, I rent the apartment upstairs.

I think it used to be the manager's office, or something.

(keys jingling)

That's the key to the side door.

And this is the key to my car. It's parked out in front.

Take it.

That's really nice.

(sniffling) Um, put this on my tab.

Do you have a tab?

No. What did you say your name was?

John Baker.

John Baker. I'm Molly Murphy.

It's nice to meet you.

(slow rock music)

♪ Baby ♪

♪ I'd love you to want me ♪

♪ The way that I want you ♪

Thank you, Mr. Fickner.

♪ Baby ♪

♪ You'd love me to want you ♪

♪ The way that I want to ♪

♪ If you'd only let it be ♪

Is that seat taken?

Yes.

I thought I'd find you passed out with an empty bottle of Jack Daniel's.

(chuckling)

Well, you know, I'm not really much of a drinker.

Pfft... You were doing pretty good earlier.

I didn't know what else to do.

You know, I used to come here every weekend.

- Yeah? - Mm-hmm.

- When did the place shut down? - About five years ago.

I saw Bonnie and Clyde here.

Three times in the same day. Did you ever see it?

Yeah, yeah. Just the once, though.

I could watch it a thousand more times.

Why do you like it so much?

Well, it's one of the greatest love stories of all time.

They were fearless.

Always staying one step ahead of the law.

Warren Beatty would do anything to keep Faye Dunaway safe,

and she would do anything for him.

Right until the end.

That's love.

It's romance.

I'm gonna have sex with you.

Not today.

I'm not exactly sure when.

I'll let you know.

Cool.

It's my new number-one rule:

No more lies.

That's... that's a pretty good rule.

Yeah, you don't need any others if you got that one.

I guess not.

(crickets chirring)

(soft, suspenseful music)

(background chatter) (laughter)

(Enzo): Let's go, come on! (metal scraping)

(chatter over police scanner)

Harry! Come on!

(whirring)

(foam spraying)

(sawing)

(clattering)

Look at this thing. Last time I saw a shit box like this

was in a pawn shop in Cincinnati. What a joke.

Alright, here we go. (wires clipping)

Give me the radio.

(Enzo): Anything on the scanner? - Not a fucking peep.

Sounds like they only got one patrol car working,

and he's writing a ticket for an illegal bonfire on the beach.

Here.

(thudding)

Come on, we're clear. Let's go, hurry up!

- Fire in the hole, motherfuckers. - Do it.

Earthquake!

(exclamations)

(groaning)

Jesus Christ, Pauly! What the fuck?!

It was tough drilling, so I upped the charge.

Just my miscalculation. Don't go shitting yourself.

(police-scanner chatter) - Shut up!

I think we're getting a call.

Yes, fuck.

Patrol car's on its way to check the bank. Fuck.

Christ, it wasn't that loud.

(sirens wailing)

- Let's get outta here! - Sit tight.

Harry, take a walk out front and see what you see.

Take a radio. Tommy, help him with the ladder.

(indistinct chatter)

They're heading around back.

(Enzo): Harry! Get out of there now! - Don't worry. I got a plan.

(Enzo): No, Harry, no! What are you doing?!

Harry?!

(rock music)

Watch it, asshole!

Fuck you! (screaming, fighting commotion)

Fuck you!

(Officer): Alright, alright. Settle down.

Fuck you! Bitch!

Fuck off! (indistinct chatter)

Fuck! - This is an arrest. We're taking him in.

- Fuck! I didn't do shit! - Cut it out!

(siren wailing)

I love this podunk town.

Damn. There must be a thousand fucking boxes down here.

Nah. 500-600, tops.

We're never gonna get all these fuckers popped open.

We came here to personally rob the President of the United States of America,

and we are not leaving until we do. Harry, Tom! Come on!

(Pauly): We should start with the big boxes first.

No. Every box in order, on each wall, starting there.

We're never gonna be able to squeeze 30 million of these little boxes.

Hey, Pauly, it's not all gonna be in cash. These ain't drug dealers.

These guys are slick, they're politicians.

We're taking bearer bonds, offshore accounts, cashiers checks.

That's how these cocksuckers roll.

(smashing)

That's it.

(upbeat rock music)

(change jingling) (laughter)

- Fucking bag, come on! - Like it?

We're still looking for your shit, Dick!

Hey, look at this! (music stopping)

It's remains.

(music resuming)

(car approaching)

Look at this! Fucking Kruggerands up the wazoo!

Hey, hey, diamonds too. Some pretty swanky shit goin' on.

- It's like fucking Christmas! - Alright, half an hour before sunrise.

Let's bag it up.

(Harry): We cleared over four million that night.

But we still hadn't found Nixon's money.

And Enzo, he wouldn't stop until we did.

But with the bank closed for the weekend, we still had Saturday and Sunday night to go.

(chuckling) - So let me get this straight.

You guys set out to rob Nixon?

Shhh. Yes.

The President of the United States.

Seemed like a good idea at the time.

And you thought you could get away with that how, exactly?

Because it was dirty money.

See, we figured Nixon couldn't do nothing to us if we ripped him off.

We were wrong.

(playing weakly)

(horn playing in the distance)

(background chatter)

He's getting better, don't you think?

What?

(Nixon's campaign song playing)

- Sharon. - Sir. More coffee?

- I can get my own coffee. Thanks. - Yes, sir.

Sharon, how long were you on a desk before they let you into the academy?

Two years, sir.

(coffee pouring)

You were the first female through, right?

One of two. Yes, sir. Thank you, sir.

I was a first, too. A lot of pressure.

This is my, um...

...eighth field office in ten years.

Karen said that she never wanted to move again.

It's ironic, you know.

You give up a lot to do this. A lot.

Don't want to give up everything, though.

Gotta find balance. I haven't been able to find it yet,

but I'm optimistic.

Sir? Um, I thought about what you said,

about getting out more.

I got... tickets for The Godfather.

Have you seen it?

- Uh... twice. - Right.

Sir? Deputy Director Felt is here.

- Felt's in the office? - He just came in from Washington unannounced,

and he's not alone.

(indistinct chatter)

How are you?

Confused.

So am I.

The inventory of the safety deposit box

that's supplied by the bank seems somehow incomplete.

Apologies, Howard.

Let me save you some time, sir.

These 456 boxes... were smashed open.

Some of them still contained cash and jewelry.

The burglars were obviously looking for something specific.

Any ideas?

Not yet.

But I'm well-equipped to handle this investigation on my own, sir.

Of course you are.

With all due respect,

why have an additional hundred agents been assigned to my case?

(phone ringing in distance)

There's a very high level of interest in this case, Howard.

- From Mr. Hoover? - Higher.

Higher?

This incident appears to have created some consternation in the Oval Office.

- Can you tell me? - I can't.

I haven't been offered an explanation myself.

- I find that very hard to believe, sir. - I'd imagine you would.

There's a bumper crop of secrets in Washington these days, Howard.

That's why I need you to solve this case as quickly as possible,

so we can find out what the hell it is they're not telling us.

I've gotta get back. You report directly to me.

Yes, sir.

(knocking gently)

Everything okay?

(door closing)

I should've taken that coffee.

Well, we're out of coffee.

And desks and telephones and toilet paper.

I finally get something interesting and they want to take it from me.

Between this and San Clemente,

there are more federal agents here than in Washington.

- San Clemente? - Yes, sir.

The President is... spending his vacation there, so...

- The Western White House? - What is it?

San Clemente is ten miles away from that bank.

What does that have to do with the bank job?

Maybe nothing.

Maybe everything.

What's the golden rule of a homicide investigation?

- Motive. - Motive!

So... why this bank, and why these safe-deposit boxes?

- 'Cause they knew what they were looking for. - Exactly, they knew.

You have any customers with out-of-state addresses?

- As a matter of fact, I think so. - Let's have a look, let's check it out.

Here we go.

C.W. Colson,

with a PO box in Arlington, Virginia.

Arlington? Alright.

I want you to do the background check personally on Mr. Colson.

Yes, sir.

Good.

Sharon, have you been following this Watergate thing?

- Yes, sir. - What do you think about it?

From what I read in the papers, that crew seems like a bunch of amateurs.

You think our case has something to do with that circus?

I don't know. But what I do know is that...

the last time the Bureau

assigned 100 agents to a single investigation...

was when John F. Kennedy was assassinated.

I swear to God, the next time I think I'm gonna fall in love,

I'm gonna fall off a bridge instead.

Of all the small towns in the country...

...why did you pick Deerwood?

Actually, I didn't pick it. It kind of picked me.

You see, I was driving through town and the water pump in my truck went out.

By the time I got it fixed,

I had a job at the Deer Meat Tavern.

Then I met you.

You stayed in Deerwood because of me?

What do you think?

(upbeat music)

Now, remember, okay?

Don't mention that we met at the Deer Meat Tavern.

(laughing)

What are you doing?

The great escape.

So you tell them that we met in town.

- Whereabouts? - Dairy Queen.

What happened to your "no lie" rule?

This is the exception that makes the rule.

And listen, maybe don't bring up Nixon or Watergate.

My dad's a Republican.

Oh, and he hates Billie Jean King and Phil Donahue and Jane Fonda.

Are you a Pittsburgh Pirates fan?

- I don't have to be. - No, that's good! My dad loves the Pirates!

- Molly, why is there... - Hi, everyone!

(all): Hey!

(quietly): Go, Pirates.

This is John Baker. He's new in town,

so don't act like the SWAT team and scare him off, okay?

(laughter) - Oh, no. Come on down here.

Welcome to our home. John, right? John, is it?

Just call me Jerry. Everybody does. Hey, sweetheart.

Look, everybody. There's fever in the funk house.

Now it's a party! - I promise, I promise. Rose, Rose...

- You are beautiful. - Mom, stop mashing on my boyfriend!

How 'about a beer? Could you stand a beer? Alright.

- You want a beer? - He's like a young Troy Donahue.

Oh, don't even start. He thinks he's Steve McQueen!

(laughter) - Look at that.

(grunting) (children laughing)

- So what do you think? - Are you kidding?

He's a doll. And your father seems to like him, too.

- Yeah? - And he's a Pirates fan. How 'bout that?

How 'bout that?

(kids): I'm gonna get you!

So you think it's okay if I sleep with him?

- Oh, Molly. - What?

You shouldn't be asking me questions like that.

Well, I got a new rule. No lies.

And what good are rules if you don't use 'em, right?

Well...

If you want to.

Sure, why not. You're a big girl.

I love you, Mom. (chuckling)

Just don't use your new rule on your father or your sister.

You know how they are. - I love you, Mom!

I heard you the first time.

See ya! (laughing)

Bye!

Sweet.

You never told me your dad was the sheriff.

If I told guys my dad was the sheriff, I'd still be a virgin.

(Harry): Looks like I'll be sticking around for a while.

Well, you better.

Or I'll have my dad arrest you for impersonating my boyfriend.

Really? I'm your boyfriend now?

If you don't screw it up.

I screwed it up, didn't I?

You think, John? John...

Harry!

Steve McQueen! I don't even know what to call you anymore!

(TV reporter): Mr. Nixon says emphatically that the White House

is in no way involved in the burglary and bugging of the Democratic headquarters,

and he'll have no further comment on that matter.

♪ It's a beautiful morning ♪

(Harry): Hot, hot, hot.

♪ Just taking in some clean fresh air, boy ♪

Come on! How does this motherfucking piece of shit work?

Push the lever to the right.

What lever? There's only buttons.

This lever.

Look at you. A real Thomas Edison boy genius, huh?

What? You don't have a dishwasher at home?

Yeah, I got a dishwasher at home.

I married her, fuck nuts!

(Tommy): Hey, what's the mirror for, Uncle Enzo?

It's a burglar alarm for burglars, Tommy.

(birds singing)

If I don't see a reflection, it means somebody's found our hole in the roof.

And then we get the hell outta Dodge.

I don't think you're meant to use a knife.

Scissors don't work. The pieces are too thick.

Hey, I'm gonna catch a matinée.

Yeah, which one?

- Getaway. - Again?

Yeah. You wanna come?

Nah, nah. I'm... gonna finish this.

- You sure? - Yeah.

(Harry): I've seen The Getaway six times.

The Thomas Crown Affair, eight.

The Magnificent Seven, I've seen...

...well, seven.

(laughter)

You wanna know my favourite? The movie that I love the most?

Bullitt.

(soft music)

I told Mr. Weakler that Steve McQueen's your hero.

And next week, he's gonna play Bonnie and Clyde.

Since I've been helping out and stuff.

You okay? - Yeah.

I dunno what's wrong with me. I guess I'm just happy.

There's nothing wrong with being happy. (sighing)

I am.

I just wish I came here before.

What?

Nothing.

Well, I guess it wasn't exactly nothing, right?

'Kay. Keep going.

Okay, so...

we went back on a Saturday night.

And that's when it all started to go, uh...

sideways.

(background chatter)

Heads up.

Enzo, you read me?

- Yeah, Ray, what's going on? - Unmarked carjust pulled in the back.

Coming up.

Keep everything quiet.

(whispering): I can fucking smell an unmarked car. It's a cop.

Calm down. Anything on the scanner?

No, not a goddamn thing.

Look. If it's a cop, I take him out and we get outta here before anyone else shows...

We're bank burglars, not cop killers.

It's either that or we grow wings and fly the fuck away.

Okay, okay.

If it's a cop, but only...

if it's a cop. And no head shot.

- You can't be serious. - You got no vote here.

What are you doing here anyway, Harry?

Just make sure you give this sonofabitch a chance to survive.

No promises.

(suspenseful music)

He's getting out of the car.

You see that? 12-gauge.

What the fuck did I tell you? That's a fucking cop.

He touches that shotgun, he dies.

What the fuck is he doing?

If Ray opens up, we get off this roof double-time.

You got me? Pauly first, then Tommy. Harry, me, Ray.

Just spread out, get back to the house as fast as you can.

Why don't we just leave right now? What if somebody needs...

I said you got no vote! You do as I say, or you're going off the roof.

Head first! Is that clear? You got that?

Hold on. Hey, hey. What the fuck is this?

(distant conversation)

Who are these assholes?

Somebody wanna tell me what the fuck is going on?!

(suspenseful music)

(woman): Hey!

It's a Little League game.

- Shit! - Sonofabitch.

I almost shot the fucking Little League. Fuck.

- Calm down. Hey, whoa, whoa! - What the fuck?

- Put the gun down. - Don't worry about it.

D'you get a hit today? - No, I struck out.

You'll get it next time.

(Harry): That's when I knew that I was in over my head.

That I'd made a terrible mistake.

Let's finish this.

I'm so full. I can't eat anymore.

The story. Finish the story.

So it was Sunday night.

The third time returning to the bank.

(shoes squeaking)

Heads up.

(Ray): Enzo, you read me?

- Yeah, Ray, what's up? - It is getting busy out here.

It's definitely a Monday morning, you know what I mean?

Yeah, I know what fucking day it is.

(Pauly): Pack it up, boys. Bring it all up the ladder. We're done.

- Since when do you run this crew? - Since you lost your goddamn fucking mind.

And to be honest, I don't think your goddamn fucking 30 mil is here.

Even if it is, it's time to go.

Shit! (crashing)

Fucking asshole, Nixon!

Hey. We did our best.

(metal clanging) - Guys like him,

they always come out on top. They always come out on top!

They're gonna make fucking statues of him!

And they're gonna plaster his dog-ass face on first-class fucking stamps!

Guys like me and you,

he is a bigger crook than we will ever fucking be!

Maybe someday, someone'll nail something on him. Okay?

Hope springs eternal. Right?

Never fucking happen, Pauly. Never.

Let's just get the fuck outta here.

(vault door rumbling)

- That's what a $12-million boat looks like. - Next stop, Vegas.

(Pauly): Lake Havasu.

Get that money in there. Hurry up. Boom.

- Pauly, d'you get that bleach in the drains? - All done, boss.

Ray, all the countertops, right?

Yep. Spick and span.

Harry.

Here's your cut, and Tommy's.

I'll see you back in Youngstown.

(seagulls cawing)

There's only 20 grand.

$12-million heist... and all we get is 10 K apiece.

- You can have my cut. I don't care. - Well, I care, Tommy.

You okay?

- Yeah. - Yeah?

What you got there?

Baseball cards.

It's from the bank. Enzo said I could have it.

Any gum?

No, just cards.

- Jesus Christ. - Well, I got a Johnny Bench MVP card in here.

Good, Tommy.

$12-million heist and all we get is 10 K and some gum-less baseball cards.

Let's go, Tommy.

Excuse me, sir? Sir?

I've got something.

C.W. Colson is Charles Wendell Colson,

a.k.a. Chuck Colson.

Date of birth 10/16/1931.

The PO box is actually a mail drop a couple of miles from his house in Arlington.

Married twice, three kids. He did a hitch in the Marine Corps.

It's quite a résumé. - What does Mr. Colson do for a living?

Special Counsel to the President of the United States.

Nixon?

Oh.

Got it.

Got it.

Tommy?

When we get back home,

we're not working for Enzo anymore.

Yeah, but... I mean, he's our uncle. He's family, Harry.

He doesn't care about us, Tom.

So what are we gonna do?

We'll figure something out.

You and me.

(soft music)

Hmm.

Got it.

- Good morning, sir. - I spoke with Mr. Colson.

He said all he had in his safe-deposit box was an album of baseball cards.

He estimates a value of between $200-$300.

Baseball cards.

Mickey Mantle, Joe DiMaggio, so on and so forth.

He said he would try and recollect all the cards he had,

and send me a complete list.

We're supposed to believe that, sir?

That he had an album full of baseball cards in a safe-deposit box 3,000 miles away?

Well, Howard, we have to take Mr. Colson at his word.

That's all we can do at the moment.

I'd like to talk to Mr. Colson, if that's okay with you.

No. I'm afraid not.

Neither you, or anyone on your team,

is to have any contact with Mr. Colson. Is that clear?

How am I supposed to conduct this inv...

Sometimes smoking guns are too hot to handle. You have to give them time to cool down.

Cool down?

You read the Washington Post, Howard?

- No, sir. - You should.

There's an article by a couple of young reporters,

Woodward and Bernstein.

You might find it interesting.

Bye for now, Howard.

Get me the Washington Post. Tag an article by Woodward and Bernstein.

Sharon, you see this? - Yes, sir.

I want each and every house on the hillside checked out, door to door. I want it done today.

Looks like we drilled a dry hole.

Maybe I was wrong about that mirror.

The house was rented under the name "Steve McQueen."

That has to mean something.

Female intuition should be admissible evidence.

Karen had great instincts, too.

(birds singing) (background chatter)

Men.

I've got fingerprints in the kitchen!

It's a crew out of Youngstown, Ohio.

Enzo Rotella, Paul Callahan and Raymond Darrow.

That's only three suspects. We found five sets of fingerprints.

Well, I've got our guys working on it in double shifts around the clock.

Excellent work.

We still have two sets of fingerprints we haven't ID'ed yet, sir.

You will.

Howard, let me buy you a cup of coffee. You look like you could use one.

You were up in Sacramento before you came to Santa Ana, weren't you?

Yes, sir. And Boise. And Minneapolis before that.

Amongst many others.

Well, I think it's time you had your final transfer.

It's time you came to Washington, DC.

Sir?

I need a man who can work the halls of power

without being awestruck by the architecture, Howard.

Tell me. How are you and the missus getting on these days?

Working things out.

Glad to hear that.

And how would she feel if I asked you to move your family to Washington?

She wouldn't like it, but for this, I think she'd understand.

Good. You got three weeks.

Three weeks?

That should be ample time for you to finish up with this case.

You have to hand it to them, these fellows from Youngstown.

They certainly upset the applecart, didn't they?

- And whose applecart was that, sir? - Well, you'll have to ask them

what they were looking for, and who it belonged to.

That way you can say you didn't hear it from me.

Which you haven't.

It'll give us something to talk about when you get to Washington, DC.

(Sharon): They flew from Cleveland to Los Angeles

under their real names: Enzo Rotella, Paul Callahan, Ray Darrow;

and two brothers, Harry and Tommy Barber.

Tommy served a tour in Vietnam. We tracked his prints to the U.S. Army database.

- And Harry Barber? You got his photo? - There's nothing in our system.

He's probably the first set of prints we haven't ID'ed yet.

But take a look at this.

Hertz rented a 1972 Cadillac DeVille

to a customer named Steve McQueen.

The car was paid for in hundred-dollar bills and returned in Las Vegas.

So they all escaped to Las Vegas?

Maybe not all. A neighbour reported seeing two men getting picked up

in a cab outside of a vacation house.

So I check the local taxi logs and guess who I found.

Steve McQueen.

Driver got a hell of a tip, too. Hundred-dollar bill.

And nobody knows about this but you and me?

- Just you and me, sir. - Okay.

I want to inspect that taxi cab myself. Don't let anybody touch it.

- Yes, sir. - Gonna stay here?

- Yes. - Okay. Let's put out a bulletin

to all the local PDs nationwide for misdemeanour fingerprints,

see if we can't tag this Harry J. Barber.

And if we can't find him, find me Steve McQueen.

Colson.

(sirens wailing)

Is it always like that, or... do you get used to it?

It's always like that.

How did I not notice this?

'Cause whenever it got bad...

I got really scared,

I'd pretend I was someone else.

Someone that could keep their cool no matter what.

Even if the cops showed up.

Let me guess.

Steve McQueen.

41 outstanding speeding tickets, all paid two weeks before the heist.

Did a yearlong stint in juvie.

It's all we've got on him at the moment.

Let's call the Cleveland office.

Tell them it's showtime.

Agent Price.

You coming?

(sirens wailing)

(lawnmower puttering)

(mechanism ticking)

(guns cocking)

Fuck!

Yeah.

(lid creaking)

(banging)

Where's Harry Barber?

Harry who?

It's just a matter of time.

A matter of time.

We'll see about that.

Let's go.

(TV):... slowing down, or even, some suggested, resigning.

Any suggestion... (Enzo laughing)

...that this president is ever going to leave this office

until he continues to do the job and finishes the job he was elected to do,

anyone who suggests that,

that's just plain poppycock.

(birds singing)

(door opening)

I got two of the same. Take it.

I'm going to the store. You want anything?

More baseball cards.

Okay, Tommy.

(chuckling)

I love you, Harry.

Where'd that come from?

I don't know.

I love you too, Tommy.

(car starting)

(soft music)

(tires screeching)

(Harry): That was the last time I saw my little brother.

I left Youngstown that day and I've... been running ever since.

But I'm done running now, Molly.

No, you're not. We'll go to Mexico together.

I called your father this morning. He'll be here any minute.

- No. Come on! - Molly. Molly, what are you...?

Please. Molly! Molly...

Hey. Where are you going?

- My motorcycle. - You're gonna ride it all the way to Mexico?

Canada. It's only five hours to the border. You know anyone in Toronto?

No, and neither do you, Molly.

Then whatever! We'll go on the run like Bonnie and Clyde!

(sirens wailing) (tires screeching)

(guns cocking)

Wait a minute. Didn't Bonnie and Clyde get shot to death?

Oh, yeah.

He's not gonna run, is he?

'Cause I've been chasing this guy for a long time.

He's not going anywhere.

Tell your men to stand down.

Stand down!

No more lies. That's my new rule.

I'll wait for you. Okay?

I'll wait for you forever.

How 'bout five to ten years? (laughing)

It's time to go, Harry.

(handcuffs clicking)

You really think there's happily ever after for people like us?

- Faye Dunaway said that. - To Steve McQueen.

In The Thomas Crown Affair.

(background chatter)

(Driving My Life Away by Eddie Rabbit)

♪ Well the midnight headlights blind you on a rainy night ♪

♪ Steep grade up ahead, slow me down, makin' no time ♪

♪ But I got to keep rollin' ♪

♪ Those windshield wipers slappin' out a tempo ♪

♪ Keepin' perfect rhythm with the song on the radio ♪

♪ But I got to keep rollin' ♪

♪ Ooh... I'm drivin' my life away ♪

♪ Lookin' for a better way ♪

♪ For me ♪

♪ Ooh... I'm drivin' my life away ♪

♪ Lookin' for a sunny day ♪

♪ Well the truck stop cutie comin' on to me ♪

♪ Tried to talk me into a ride said I wouldn't be sorry ♪

♪ But she was just a baby ♪

♪ Hey, waitress, pour me another cup of coffee ♪

♪ Pop it down, jack me up, shoot me out, flyin' down the highway ♪

♪ Lookin' for the mornin' ♪

♪ Ooh... I'm drivin' my life away ♪

♪ Lookin' for a better way ♪

♪ For me ♪

♪ Ooh... I'm drivin' my life away ♪

♪ Lookin' for a sunny day ♪

♪ Well the midnight headlights blind you on a rainy night ♪

♪ Steep grade up ahead, slow me down, makin' no time ♪

♪ But I got to keep rollin' ♪

♪ Those windshield wipers slappin' out a tempo ♪

♪ Keepin' perfect rhythm with the song on the radio ♪

♪ But I got to keep rollin' ♪

♪ Ooh... I'm drivin' my life away ♪

♪ Lookin' for a better way ♪

♪ For me ♪

♪ Ooh... I'm drivin' my life away ♪

♪ Lookin' for a sunny day ♪

♪ Ooh... I'm drivin' my life away ♪

♪ Lookin' for a better way ♪

♪ For me ♪

♪ Ooh... I'm drivin' my life away ♪

♪ Lookin' for a sunny day ♪

♪ Yeah ♪

♪ Ooh... I'm drivin' my life away ♪

♪ Lookin' for a better way... ♪

(soft instrumental music)