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This man is worth $500,

and this man's going to collect.

He's Jake Cahill,

and he lives by...

Bounty Law.

You don't ever bring them in alive, do you, Jake?

Not when there's three of them and one of me.

What are you looking at, bounty killer?

I'm looking at an ugly owl-hoot about to get his jaw busted.

Amateurs try and take men in alive.

-Amateurs usually don't make it.
-Whether you're dead or alive,

you're just a dollar sign to Jake Cahill on Bounty Law.

Thursdays at 8:30, only on NBC.

Hello, everybody.

This is Allen Kincade on the set of the exciting hit NBC
and Screen Gems television series Bounty Law.

Now, if you think you're seeing double,
don't adjust your television sets

because, well, in a way, you are.

To my right is Bounty Law series lead
and Jake Cahill himself, Rick Dalton.

And to my left is Rick's stunt double, Cliff Booth.

Welcome, gentlemen,
and thanks for taking the time to visit with us.

Well, it's our pleasure, Allen.

So, Rick, explain to the audience
exactly what it is a stunt double does.

Well...

actors are required to do a lot of dangerous stuff.

Say Jake Cahill gets shot off his horse.

Now, can I fall off a horse?

Yes, I can, and, yes, I have.

But say I fall off wrong and I sprain my wrist
or I twist my ankle.

Now, that can put an undue burden on production
because now maybe I can't work for a week.

So Cliff here is meant to help carry the load.

Is that how you'd describe your job, Cliff?

What, carrying his load? Yeah, that's about right.

Join me next week on the set of The Dick Van Dyke Show,

where I'll be talking to those comical cutups,
Morey Amsterdam and Rose Marie.

Till then, this is Allen Kincade signing off from Hollywood.

I missed you.

-The black one. And the flowers.
-Flowers, Ava, flowers.

-And there's the small one.
-Can I see your tickets?

Oh, good boy.

Gina, Gina, Gina.

The face in the misty light.

-Hello, Mr. Schwarz.
-Hello, Gina.

I... I have a meeting with a very handsome cowboy man.

He's waiting for you in the bar.

Well...

since I just finished watching
a Rick Dalton fucking film festival,

I think I know who you are. Put it there.

Well, it's my pleasure, Mr. Schwartz.

-And thank you for taking an interest.
-Schwarz, not Schwartz.

Goddamn it to hell. I'm sorry about that.

-It's my pleasure, Mr. Schwarz.
-Call me Marvin.

Marvin, call me Rick.

-Rick?
-Yeah.

-Oh, is that your son?
-My son?

No, that's my stunt double, Cliff Booth.

-Yeah.
-Good to meet you.

We've worked together
since the last two seasons of Bounty Law.

-Yeah?
-My car's in the shop, so he gave me a ride.

That's a big fucking lie.

Rick got his driver's license taken away
for too many drunk-driving tickets.

-Cliff drives him everywhere now.
-Oh, fuck.

-Well, sounds like a good friend.
-I try.

I wanna send you greetings from my wife,
Mary Alice Schwarz.

Oh, well, that's nice.

Thanks a lot.

We had a Rick Dalton double feature
in our screening room last night.

Oh, well, that's both flattering and embarrassing.

What'd you see?

Thirty-five mm prints of Tanner
and The Fourteen Fists of McCluskey.

I hope the Rick Dalton double feature

wasn't too painful for you and the-- And the missus.

Oh, no. "Painful." Stop. What are you saying?

Mary Alice loves Westerns.
Our whole courtship, we watched Westerns.

-Here you go.
-Thanks.

And we thoroughly enjoyed Tanner.

-Oh, that's nice.
-It's really good. And anyway, she goes to bed.

I open up a box of Havanas.

I light up, I pour myself a cognac and I watch...

The Fourteen Fists of McCluskey.

What a picture.

-What a picture.
-Good picture, yeah.

That is so much fun.

All the shooting.

-I love that stuff. You know, the killing.
-A lot of killing. Lot of killing, yeah.

Now, gentlemen, the plan is, we reverse our forces

und drive the Allies back into the sea!

-Genius.
-Panzer divisions come in,

and we drive them here to the ocean.

They'll be up against the wall.

-They will have nowhere to go.
-Yes.

This is the spot...

Hermann!

Open the curtains.

Anybody order fried sauerkraut?!

Burn, you Nazi bastards!

That's you operating the flamethrower, isn't it?

Oh, you bet your sweet ass it was. Yeah, yeah.

-It was you?
-Yeah. And let me tell you,

that's one shit-fuck crazy weapon
you do not wanna be on the wrong side of.

Boy, oh, boy.

You know, I practiced with that dragon

three hours a day for two weeks.

Not just because I wanted to look good
in the picture, but because I was--

I was shit-scared of the damn thing, to be honest.

Mike fucking Lewis!

Crisping them Nazis to hell!

Oh, shit, that's...

All right, that's too hot. Anything we can do about that heat?

-Rick, it's a flamethrower.
-Yeah.

So I came to the office early today,

and I watched two episodes of Bounty Law on 16 mm.

Jody Janice,

wanted for cattle rustling in the state of Wyoming,
$425 dead or alive.

And you brought him here to collect.

I don't even know where here is.

It was just the closest place.

Caught up with him about five miles outside of town.

So, bounty killer,

the name of this town is Janicetown.

And that boy you killed...

was Jody Janice.

He was the baby boy of Major Nathin Maxwell Janice.

Who's Major Nathin Maxwell Janice?

Well, I'll be sure and introduce you

when he gets here.

Bounty Law.

Starring Rick Dalton.

Then a couple of the jokers over in archival sent over
a kinescope of a little treat featuring you.

There's an old piano

And they play it hot
Behind the green door

Don't know what they're doing

But they laugh a lot
Behind the green door

Wish they'd let me in

So I can find out
What's behind the green door

So you've been doing guest shots

on episodic TV shows the last couple of years?

Yeah. Yeah. I'm doing a pilot for CBS right now.

It's called-- It's called Lancer. I play the heavy.

Did a Ron Ely Tarzan.

I did a Land of the Giants. Green Hornet.

I did that show...

Bingo Martin with that kid Scott Brown. Yeah.

And I got a F.B.I. that airs this Sunday.

You... You always play the bad guy on these shows?

-Yeah.
-Yeah.

So, and they have a fight scene at the end of them?

Well, not-- Not-- Not Land of the Giants or F.B.I.,

-but the rest, yeah. Yeah.
-And you lose in the fight?

Yeah. Yeah, of course. I'm-- I'm the heavy.

Oh, that's an old trick pulled by the networks.

Now, you take Bingo Martin, for example. Right?

So you got a new guy like Scott Brown.

You wanna build up his bona fides, right?

So you hire a guy from a canceled show to play the heavy.

Then at the end of the show, when they fight,

it's hero besting heavy.

But what the audience sees

is Bingo Martin whipping Jake Cahill's ass.

You see?

Then next week, it's Ron Ely.

And next week, it's Bob Conrad,

wearing his tight pants, kicking your ass.

Yeah.

In another couple of years, playing punching bag
to every swinging dick new to the network,

that's gonna have a psychological effect
on how the audience perceives you.

Right.

So, Rick,

who's gonna kick the shit out of you next week?

Mannix? The Man from U.N.C.L.E.?

The Girl from U.N.C.L.E.?

How about Batman and Robin?

Down goes you.

Down goes your career as a leading man.

Or do you go to Rome and star in Westerns

and win fucking fights?

Ticket, señor?

-All right, what's the matter, partner?
-Well...

it's official, old buddy.

-I'm a has-been.
-What are you talking about?

-What did that guy tell you?
-He told me the goddamn truth, is what he told me.

-Oh, shit.
-Hey.

-I'm sorry about that. I'm sorry about that.
-Here. Put these on.

-Don't cry in front of the Mexicans.
-Son of a bitch.

Now, what's got you so upset, man?

If coming face-to-face with the failure
that is your career ain't worth crying about,

-then I don't know what the fuck is.
-Right. That guy in there turn you down?

No. He wants to help me get into Italian movies.

-Then what's the problem?
-I gotta do Italian goddamn movies!

-That's the fucking problem!
-Come on.

Fucking bullshit! It doesn't matter whether I cry in public.

Nobody remembers who the fuck I am anyway, huh?

...at the Hall of Justice in town.
The defense will try to prove the killing

-of Kennedy was the product of a sick mind.
-Fuck!

-Thank you. Hey, let's go.
-Take me home, Cliff.

Come on, take me home.

...as early as next Wednesday.

More than 1000 Communists dead are reported
in new, large-scale fighting in South Vietnam.

U.S. losses are said to be...

That's swell, man.

Fucking hippie motherfuckers.

...and bases with rockets and mortar fire.

As President Nixon was flying to Europe,
he received details of that fighting by radio.

Always is always forever

As long as one is one

Inside yourself for your father

All is one, all is one, all is one

It's time we put our love behind you

The illusion has been just a dream

The Valley of Death and I'll find you

Now is when on a sunshine beam

Hot dog buns!

For sure they shall surely see

No clothing, no tears, no hunger

You shall see, you shall see, you shall see

Always is always forever

As long as one is one

Inside yourself for your father

All is one, all is one, all is one

Five years of ascent.

Ten years of treading water.

And now a race to the bottom.

Look, I never had much of a career to speak of,

so I can't say I really know how you feel.

What are you talking about? You're my stunt double.

Come on, now. Shit.

Rick, I'm your driver, man. I'm your gofer.

I'm not complaining, man. I like driving you around.

I like doing shit around the house

and house-sitting in the Hollywood Hills when you're gone.

But I haven't been a full-time stuntman for a while now,

and from where I'm standing,
going to Rome to star in movies does not sound

like the fate worse than death that you seem to think it is.

Come on, now. You ever seen an Italian Western, huh?

They're awful. It's a fucking farce.

Yeah, how many you seen? One? Two?

I've seen enough, all right? Nobody likes Spaghetti Westerns.

Oh, hell, man, stay in L.A. Give it what fer next pilot season.

Nah, nah. I'm-- I'm--

I'm too insecure now to score come pilot season.

Besides, Screen Gems ain't gonna
have nothing good to say about me.

-You know that.
-Shit. You made Bounty Law.

Nobody's gonna forgive me
for that last season. No matter what I do,

I'm always gonna be the horse's ass
that got Bounty Law canceled

because I wanted some fucking rinky-dink movie career.

Tom. My friend.

-I met him?
-No, you haven't met him.

-You won't meet him because I don't think you'd like him.
-Why?

Well...

-Don't even joke.
-A joke? But they're scared.

Holy shit.

That was Polanski.

That was Roman Polanski.

He's lived there for a month now. First time I seen him.

Holy shit. Goddamn it.

What do I always say?
Most important thing in this town is,

when you're making money, you buy a house in town.

You don't rent. Eddie O'Brien taught me that.

Hollywood real estate means you live here.

You're not just visiting, not just passing through.

You fucking live here.

Here I am flat on my ass,
and who I got living next door to me?

The director of Rosemary's fucking Baby, that's who.

Polanski, the hottest director in town right now,
probably the world.

He's my next-door fucking neighbor.

I mean, shit. I mean, who knows what could happen?

I could-- I could be one pool party away
from starring in a new Polanski movie.

-So you're feeling better now?
-Yeah, yeah. Sorry about all that.

-Give me my glasses back.
-Oh, come get them, fucker. Come--

All right, all right, Audie Murphy, relax.

-There you go.
-You gonna need me for anything else?

Nah, nah, nah. I got a lot of lines to learn for tomorrow.

-Shit. All right.
-All right.

-I'm gonna get my carcass on home.
-All right.

-All right, 7:15 A.M.
-Seven-fifteen.

-Out the door.
-Out the door.

-In the car.
-All right, see you then.

Hello, coming in. Hello.

Hello, darling. Hello.

Come here.

Hello, sweetheart.

How was your day?

Wait till you see what I got for you.

Wait until you see what I got for you.

Look what I got for you.

Gonna blow your mind, man.

Come here. Come here.

Was that a whine?

What did I tell you about whining? You whine, you don't eat.

I will throw this shit in the trash. I don't wanna, but I will.

You understand?

All right.

I waited at the bar till closing time, but he never came back.

Okay, Peggy, what happened?

I don't know. Everything was fine.

We had dinner at my house.

And afterwards, you know, while I was doing the dishes,

he and Tobey played.

And then, at the club, Gabe was doing great.

Then, wham, a sudden change.

You know how musicians are. They're temperamental cats.

-Who knows what got into him?
-Yeah.

Rick Dalton rehearsal tape starting in five, four,

three, two, one.

Pepe, get your behind behind that bar! I got a guest.

Johnny says...

Spanish, Spanish, Spanish.

-How's the beans?
-I've had worse.

Johnny says... Spanish.

A toast.

To my wife and all my sweethearts.

May they never meet.

Señor Madrid, care to join me at my table
where I entertain my guests?

I would be delighted, Monsieur Dakota.

Take the bottle with you.

And Pepe comes over.

Hey, where's that chili pepper daughter of yours
with the fiddle?

She's asleep.

Well, wake her the heck up, get her down here
with her fiddle and her bow, and entertain my guests.

Sí, señor, but please don't hurt her this time, I beg you.

I ain't gonna hurt her. Just want her to play the fiddle.

Fetch her and tell her I'll give her a fat $5 gold piece,
she play her little chili pepper heart out.

So, Johnny, what else you heard about me?

I heard you're pushing Lancer pretty hard,
but Lancer has money.

At some point, he's gonna hire some guns and push back.

-Oops, sorry.
-It's okay.

I'll open the door for you.

You look good.

-I think Steve's gonna be there too.
-Oh, yeah.

Oh, look. They're here.

Welcome to Playboy Mansion, Mr. Polanski.

Hey, how are you doing, baby?

Hey! How are you?

Oh, Cass!

Yeah!

Yeah, baby!

Yeah!

Oh, yeah.

I'm gonna tell you a story.

She was engaged to him.

Then she flew to the UK...

to make a film with him,

and broke off her engagement with him and married him.

Then they moved to Los Angeles,

and the three of them have been inseparable.

Really?

What's up?

Jay loves Sharon, that's what's up.

And he knows...

as sure as God made little green apples...

that one of these days,
that Polish prick's gonna fuck things up,

and when he does, Jay's gonna be there.

Well, one thing's for sure.

Yeah?

What's that?

Sharon absolutely has a type.

Cute, short, talented guys who look like 12-year-old boys.

Yeah.

I never stood a chance.

Fuck you, Dr. Sapirstein.

Oh, here we are.

Tell transpo! Gonna need to move all that out!

Just a sec. Hold on, guys.

Go ahead.

-Maybe you can talk to him.
-Just talk to him.

-Get that set in place.
-Hey.

I think the wind blew down my TV antenna last night,

so while I piss-fart around with wardrobe,
you mind going home and fixing it?

I can. Can you talk to the stunt gaffer about me today?

-That way I'll know if I'm working this week or not.
-Yeah.

I've been meaning to tell you.

The guy who gaffs this, he's best friends with Randy,

the gaffer from The Green Hornet,
so there really ain't no point.

Well, if you don't need me, I'll pick you up at wrap.

I don't need you. Not today.

Go home, fix my antenna, do whatever. See you at wrap.

Hey!

You're Rick fucking Dalton. Don't you forget it.

Hey, hey.

Hey, buddy, I'm Rick Dalton.
You know where I'm supposed to go?

-They're waiting for you in the makeup trailer.
-Where's the makeup trailer?

Straight back the way you came, hard right.

Oh, my God.

Rick Dalton.

Sam Wanamaker.

Hey, Sam. Sorry about the wet hand.

Oh, don't worry about it. I'm used to it with Yul.

I just want you to know, I'm the one who cast you,
and I could not be more delighted you're doing this.

Oh, well, thank you, Sam. I-- I appreciate it. It's a good part.

Yeah, it is. Have you met Jim Stacy, the series lead?

-Not yet, no. No.
-Well, you guys are going to be dynamite together.

Well, it sounds exciting.

Yeah, lightning in a bottle.

-Now, you met Sonya, makeup and hair?
-Hi.

-And this is Rebekka, who does costumes.
-Hello.

-Hi.
-Howdy.

I want a whole new look for Caleb.

I don't want this Western costumed
the way they costumed The Big Valley

and Bonanza for the last decade.

I want a zeitgeist flair to the costumes.

I mean, nothing anachronistic,
but where does 1869 and 1969 meet?

Especially when it comes to you, Caleb.

First off, I want to give him a mustache.

A big, droopy, Zapata-like mustache.

Now, about his jacket.

I want to give him a hippie jacket.

Something he could wear into the London Fog tonight

-and look like the hippest guy in the room.
-Far out.

We got a Custer jacket. Fringes all down the arm.

It's tan now, but I dye it dark brown,
he could hit the Strip in it tonight.

That's my girl.

-Now, Rick, about your hair.
-What about my hair?

I want to go with a different hairstyle.

-What?
-Something more hippie-ish.

You-- You-- You-- You want me to look like a hippie?

Well, think less hippie, more...

Hells Angel!

-Right. Say, Sam--
-Get me the--

Sam. Sam...

if you got me covered up in all this...

This junk, how's the audience gonna know it's me?

I hope they don't.

I don't want them to see Jake Cahill.

I want them to see Caleb.

I hired you to be an actor, Rick.

Not a TV cowboy. You're better than that.

I've been meaning to tell you, the guy who gaffs this,

he's best friends with Randy,
the gaffer from The Green Hornet,

so there really ain't no point.

Hey, Randy.

Cliff.

-So you're still with Rick, huh?
-Still here.

-He in there?
-Yeah. Just knock.

Look, just put him in the wardrobe, all right?

What's it gonna hurt?
Then if you need him, you got him, all right?

But then I gotta have a conversation
with that wardrobe assistant,

and, man, she's a fucking bitch. I just don't-- Please, I--

Look, Randy, I'm asking you to help me out, man.

If the answer's no, the answer's no, not no with excuses.

Hey, man.

This ain't a fucking Andy McLaglen picture, you know?

I can't afford to hire a bunch of guys to smoke cigarettes

and sit around talking to each other all day
on the chance that I might use them.

I got a four-man team here, Rick.
If I need more than that, I gotta get it approved.

And, you know, I gotta look after my dudes.

Hey, and if your dudes were a better match for me,

I'd say, "Okay, you got me,"
but that's not the case, and you know it.

-He's a great fucking match for me.
-Yeah, no...

Hey, you could do anything you want to him.
Shit, throw him off a building, right?

Light him on fire. Hit him with a fucking Lincoln, right?

Get creative. Do whatever you want.
He's just happy for the opportunity.

-Rick.
-Yeah?

I don't dig him.

And I don't dig the vibe he brings on a set.

What, is there some old beef between the two of you?

-Oh, come on, man.
-What? What?

The dude killed his fucking wife.

Come on, man. You don't believe that old shit, do you?

Yes, Rick, I do.

And I work with my wife, and she believes it.

She doesn't want his creepy ass around.

You know, this is probably the shittiest weather ever.

The shittiest weather on the shittiest boat
with the shittiest person.

Natalie, my sister, said, "He's a loser. He's a loser."

They all said it, "He's a fucking loser,"
and I didn't believe them.

So I guess I'm the fucking idiot.

And now you're not gonna talk to me?

What, you don't feel like fighting?

Well, I feel like fucking fighting

because I've been up here by myself
for four hours on this fucking shithole of a boat.

Yeah.

He's a goddamn war hero. Fuck.

Yeah, appreciate it.

Okay, you fucking horse's ass.
Let's get you over to wardrobe.

Now, I'll put you in wardrobe,
but you don't stunt, I don't pay you.

Appreciate the opportunity, Randy. I won't let you down.

-You know my wife Janet, don't you?
-Yeah.

Steer clear of her.

Now, I admire Cassius Clay, I do.

What I admire is, in his sport,
there's an element of true combat.

When Cassius Clay meets Sonny Liston in the ring,
that's not two athletes posturing.

That's combat.

Two men trying to kill each other right now.

If you don't beat him...

he kills you.

That's beyond athletics.

That's beyond Wide World of Sports, you know?

That's two warriors engaged in combat. That's what I admire.

In martial arts tournaments, they won't let you fight like that.

It's very frustrating.

You stand in front of a guy,
and you just wanna let him have it.

But you can't.

So you gotta do this playacting, patty-cake version.

Cassius Clay. Sonny Liston. Joe Louis.

The colored boxer, not that white kickboxing asshole.

They do what they need to do to win.

They unleash as much punishment as they have to
to defeat the other guy.

But in martial arts tournaments,
I do to win what they do to win.

I unleash all my power.

I kill people.

If you fought Cassius Clay, who would win?

Well, that would never happen.

But if you did, what do you think would happen?

I'd make him a cripple.

Hey, you. What's your name?

-Me?
-Yeah, you.

My name's Cliff.

I'm Rick Dalton's stunt double.

-Stuntman?
-Yeah.

You know, you're kind of pretty for a stuntman.

That's what they tell me.

So did I say something funny, stuntman?

-Yeah, you kind of did.
-What's so funny?

Look, I don't want any trouble. I'm just here to do a job.

But you're laughing at what I'm saying.
But I'm not saying anything funny.

So, what do you think is so funny?

What I think is...

you're a little man with a big mouth and a big chip,

and I think you should be embarrassed

to suggest you'd be anything more than a stain
on the seat of Cassius Clay's trunks.

Brother, you're the one with the big mouth.

And I would really enjoy closing it,
especially in front of all my friends.

But my hands are registered as lethal weapons.

That means, we get into a fight,
I accidentally kill you, I go to jail.

Anybody accidentally kills anybody in a fight,
they go to jail.

It's called manslaughter.
And I think all that "lethal weapon" horseshit

is just an excuse
so you dancers never have to get in a real fight.

Okay.

How about a friendly contest?

No punching in the face.

Two out of three.

Who puts who on the ground first?

Nobody tries to hurt nobody, just who ends up on their butt?

That's a great idea, Kato.

-You know, Bruce, that guy's kind of famous.
-That guy?

For what?

Killed his wife and got away with it.

That guy?

That guy.

Not bad, Kato.

Try that again.

What the fuck is going on here?

Hey, jackass, this is our series lead.
What the fuck are you thinking?

You're right, Janet. I'm sorry about that.

Don't fucking "Janet" me, you prick.

Hey. What's up, babe?

What's up, Randy, is that your loser asshole,

wife-killing buddy boy here was beating
the shit out of Bruce.

What?

-Hey, Randy.
-Cliff.

What the fuck, man?

Let me just say, nobody beat the shit out of Bruce.

It was a friendly contest. He barely touched me.

I think that dent in the car says something different.

Oh, my God!

What the fuck did you do to my car?!

What the fuck did you do to her car?

I threw this little prick into it, but I did not know it was her car.

Get the wardrobe off, get your shit, and get fucked!

-Janet!
-What?

-I will handle this.
-Then fucking handle it, Randy.

Cliff...

get the wardrobe off, get your shit, and get off the lot.

Fair enough.

What's the matter?

Are you afraid I'll tell Jim Morrison you were dancing
to Paul Revere and the Raiders?

Are they not cool enough for you?

Who's this shaggy asshole?

Hello? Can I help you?

Oh, yeah. Hey, man. I'm looking for Terry.

I'm a friend of Terry's and Dennis Wilson's.

Well, Terry and Candy don't live here anymore.
This is the Polanski residence now.

Really? He moved?

Dang.

You know--? You know where?

I'm not sure, really, but the owner of the property,
Paul, might. He's in the guest house.

Who is it, Jay?

It's okay, honey. It's a friend of Terry's.

-Yeah, just take the back path.
-Thank you kindly.

Ma'am.

-All right, that's an hour!
-Hey, Rick.

I know they just broke for lunch,
but you need to wait at least an hour before you can eat.

-Give that glue a chance to dry.
-Oh, no worries, honey.

I got my book. Say, say, where's the bad-guy saloon?

You just go straight through the Western town,
take a right and a left, and you see it right there.

-Thanks, honey.
-Yeah, that's better. That's better. Yeah.

Can we move to number two?

How is his bounce?

Can I get a bounce there?

Just grab the crescent wrench, come right back.

Just make it a quick one.

-Tim!
-Looks great. Right there.

Hello.

Hello.

Hello.

Would it bother you if I sat next to you
and read my book too?

I don't know.

Would you bother me?

I'll try not to.

Sit.

Sorry. Sorry about that.

You don't eat lunch?

I've got a scene after lunch.

Yeah?

Eating lunch before I do a scene makes me sluggish.

I believe it's the job of an actor--
And I say "actor," not "actress,"

because the word "actress" is nonsensical.

It's the actor's job to avoid impediments to their performance.

It's the actor's job to strive for 100 percent effectiveness.

Naturally, we never succeed, but it's the pursuit...

that's meaningful.

-Who are you?
-You can call me Marabella.

Mar-- Marabella what?

Marabella Lancer.

No, no, come on, come on. What's your real name?

When we're on set, I'd prefer to only be referred to
by my character's name.

It helps me invest in the reality of the story.

I've tried it both ways, and I'm always just a tiny bit better
when I don't break character.

And if I can be a tiny bit better, I want to be.

You're the bad guy. Caleb DeCoteau.

I thought it was pronounced Caleb "Dakota."

I'm pretty sure it's "DeCoteau."

DeCoteau.

DeCoteau. DeCoteau.

What are you reading?

It's a biography on Walt Disney.

It's fascinating.

He's a genius, you know.

I mean, a once-in-every-50-or-100-years kind of genius.

What are you, 12?

I'm 8.

What are you reading?

Just a Western.

What does that mean? Is it good?

-Pretty good.
-What's the story?

I haven't finished it yet.

I didn't ask for the whole story.

What's the idea of the story?

Well...

it's about this guy who's a bronco buster.

It's the story of his life.

Guy's name is Tom Breezy,

but everyone always calls him Easy Breezy.

Now, when Easy Breezy was in his 20s

and young and good-looking,

he could break any horse that you could throw at him.

Back then, he just had a way.

Now he's into his late 30s and he takes a bad fall,
and it messes up his hip.

He's not-- He's not--
He's not crippled or anything like that, but--

But he's got spine problems he never had before,
and he spends...

more of his days in pain than he ever did before.

Jeepers, this sounds like a good novel.

Yeah, it's not bad.

Where are you in it?

About midway.

What's happening to Easy Breezy now?

He's... He...

He's not the best anymore.

In fact, far from it. And...

he's coming to terms with what it's like to be slightly more...

use--

Slightly more useless each day.

It's okay, Caleb.

It's okay.

It sounds like a really sad book.

Poor Easy Breezy.

I'm practically crying and I haven't even read it.

-About 15 years, you'll be living it.
-What?

Nothing, pumpkin puss. I'm just...

I'm just teasing you.

You know something? You...

You might be right about this book.

I think it hits harder than I gave it credit for.

I don't like names like "pumpkin puss,"

but since you're upset, we'll talk about that some other time.

-I'm only going as far as Westwood Village.
-Hey, beggars can't be choosers.

-Come on in.
-Thanks.

-Thank you so much.
-My pleasure.

-Good luck on your adventure.
-Thank you.

-Have a good time in Big Sur.
-Thank you so much.

-Take care.
-You too.

-Oh, hey.
-Hello.

How can I help you, young lady?

I'm here to pick up a first edition
of Thomas Hardy's Tess of the d'Urbervilles I ordered.

It's under Polanski.

-Yeah, you're talking books there, kid.
-Oh, I know.

-Isn't it wonderful?
-Yeah. Oh, man.

-I just read it.
-Yeah.

I'm getting it as a gift for my husband.

-Rick Dalton?
-You bet.

Jim Stacy. This is my show. Welcome aboard.

We're real glad to have a pro like you
playing the heavy on the pilot.

And I gotta tell you, I came damn close
to being in The Fourteen Fists of McCluskey.

-No kidding.
-Yeah.

Let me tell you, I--

I just got my part by sheer luck.

Up until two weeks before shooting, Fabian was in the part.

Then he breaks his shoulder doing a Virginian.
That's how I got it, so...

Hey, Rick, I gotta ask you something I heard about.

Was it true you almost got the McQueen part
in The Great Escape?

-Hilts, isn't it?
-Captain Hilts, actually.

-Seventeen escape attempts.
-Eighteen.

Never had an audition. Never had a meeting.
Never met John Sturges.

So, no, I don't think you could say I...

I almost got the part, but...

-Tunnel man, engineer.
-Flier.

I suppose what's called in the American Army, a hotshot pilot.

But the story goes, for a brief moment,

McQueen almost passed on the movie,
and during that brief moment,

I, apparently, was on a list of four.

You have other plans?

I haven't seen Berlin yet from the ground or from the air,
and I plan on doing both before the war's over.

You and who?

-Me and-- Me and three Georges.
-Which three Georges?

Peppard, Maharis and Chakiris.

-Oh, man.
-Yeah.

That's gotta hurt.

Yeah, well, I didn't get it,

McQueen did it,

and, frankly, I never had a chance.

Ten days isolation, Hilts.

Captain Hilts.

Twenty days.

Right.

Oh, you'll still be here when I get out?

Cooler.

-One, please.
-Seventy-five cents.

What if I'm in the movie?

What do you mean?

I mean, I'm in the movie.

I'm Sharon Tate.

You're in this?

I play Miss Carlson, the klutz.

That's me.

But that's the girl from Valley of the Dolls.

Well, that's me, the girl from Valley of the Dolls.

-Really?
-Really.

Hey, Rubin! Come out here.

This is the girl from Valley of the Dolls.

-Patty Duke?
-No, the other one.

-The girl from Peyton Place?
-No, the other one.

The one who ends up doing dirty movies.

-She's in this movie.
-Sharon Tate.

Well, welcome to the Bruin, Miss Tate.
Thank you for coming to our theater.

-Would you like to come in and see the show?
-Could I?

By all means.

Thank you.

-Hey, can I get a picture?
-Oh, sure.

Okay.

You know, why don't you stand over by the poster
so people will know who you are.

Okay. Could you?

Would you like some refreshments?

-Oh, I'm fine. Thank you.
-Enjoy the show.

-Can I ask you a personal question?
-I wish you would.

How did a nice boy like you get involved
with a group like the Heads?

I turned to them after I was rejected
by the Daughters of the American Revolution.

Very pleasant hotel here.

-Mr. Helm?
-Yes?

I'm Freya.

Welcome to Denmark, Mr. Helm.

These are for you. Street maps, places of interest.

This is for you too.

-What year was that?
-1949.

-Oh, that's a very good year.
-I'm here to help you in any way I can.

-That's very nice of you.
-Is there anything you'd like me to do?

-Yes, ma'am, a couple things.
-Yes, sir.

Would you mind getting off my camera case, please?

-Oh, I'm sorry.
-Oh, that's all right.

-I'm so sorry.
-That's okay.

I'm sorry about...

Welcome to Denmark.

This is some kind of hotel you've got here.

Half a bottle is better than none.

Morning, partner.

Probably come by to see you later.

That's far enough, jughead.

Name's not jughead.

What you doing around here, boy?

I'm thirsty. That's a saloon, ain't it?

Oh, yeah, that's a saloon.

-Only you can't come in.
-Mr. Gilbert.

Don't let me stop you from earning your money.

I know how bored and restless you get
when you run out of tamales.

But, Mr. Gilbert, if I was you,

I'd find out that jughead's name.

Allow me to introduce the two of you.

This here is Bob Gilbert.

The Businessman?

That's right.

Business Bob Gilbert. And who might he be, Caleb?

Well, that's a fella by the name of Madrid.

Johnny Madrid.

Who's Johnny Madrid?

He ain't from round here.

No, really.

Who is he, Caleb?

Oh, you're about to find out...

Businessman.

Ready when you are, Gilbert.

Johnny Madrid.

How long has it been?

Since that time in Juárez, about three years ago.

Well, come on in and have a drink.

Hell, in that case...

buy you a drink, Caleb?

Sure, Johnny.

How about some mezcal?

Like that time in Juárez.

A lot of people died that day.

Yes, they did.

But we had a good time.

Didn't we?

Yeah, we did.

After you, DeCoteau.

Pepe! Get your behind behind that bar.

I have a guest.

How's the beans?

I've had worse.

One dollar.

To my wife and all my sweethearts.

May they never meet.

Señor Madrid, you care to join me at my table
where I entertain my guests?

I'd be delighted, Monsieur DeCoteau.

Take the bottle with you.

So, Johnny...

what brings you to Arroyo del Oro?

Oh, you know me, Caleb.

Money.

And who's paying around here?

I hope you.

And what have you heard about me?

I heard about the Lancer Ranch.

All the cattle you've appropriated.

A lot of land, a lot of cows,
a lot of money, no law to speak of,

and nothing but an old man
and some Mexican ranch hands to shoo you off.

Say, where's that chili pepper daughter of yours
with the fiddle?

She's asleep.

Wake her the heck up, get her down here
with her fiddle and her bow, and entertain my guest.

But, please, don't hurt her this time.

I ain't gonna hurt her.

I just want her to play the fiddle.

Line? "Go-- Go fetch her and tell her" what?

"Go fetch her and tell her I'll give her a fat $5 gold piece..."

Right. Go fetch her
and tell her I'll give her a fat $5 gold piece,

she play her little chili pepper heart out, right?

-Right.
-Got it.

I ain't gonna hurt her.

I just want her to play the fiddle.

Now, go fetch her and tell her I'll give her a fat $5 gold piece,

she play her little chili pepper heart out.

Go on.

So, Johnny,

what else you heard?

I heard you're pushing Lancer pretty hard,

but Lancer's got money.

At some point,

he's gonna hire some guns

and push back.

-Line. Line. Line, line, line.
-"Maybe he already has."

Maybe...

-Goddamn it! I fucked this whole thing up, Sam.
-Keep going!

-I fucked this up.
-Fight through it.

Can we just go back? Please, can we just cut?

-No, really, just say the fucking line!
-No, really, Sam, please.

-"Maybe he already has."
-All right, all right!

-"Maybe he already has!"
-All right, goddamn it!

All right, all right!

You're a goddamn outlaw, Rick. Come on, now.

I got it. I got it.

Go back a bit, would you?

No, he's right. Back to one.

-Okay, now, use all that, baby.
-I'm gonna use it.

-Oh, I'm gonna use it.
-Put it all inside.

I'm gonna use it.

And...

action.

I heard you're pushing Lancer pretty hard,

but Lancer's got money.

At some point,

he's gonna hire some guns and push back.

Maybe he already has.

Maybe.

Maybe I don't like Lancer.

Maybe I don't like his boots.

Maybe I don't like the way
he uses those boots to step on people.

What the fuck was that?!

Jesus Christ!

Fuck!

Piece of shit.

Fucking damn it, Rick, I swear to God.

Forgot your fucking lines, embarrassed yourself like that
in front of all those goddamn people!

Well, you were drinking all night, fucking drinking again,
eight goddamn fucking whiskey sours.

Fucking bullshit.

You're a fucking miserable drunk.

Not fucking remembering your fucking lines.

I practiced them,
and now I don't look like I goddamn practiced them!

You're sitting there like a fucking baboon!

Fuck! Eight fucking whiskey sours.

I couldn't stop at fucking three or four. I have eight!

Why?! You're a fucking alcoholic.
You fucking drink too much, huh?

Every fucking night. Every fucking night.

That's it, that's fucking it!

That's fucking it.

You stop drinking right now, all right?

Make a promise to yourself.
You're gonna stop fucking drinking.

Oh, fuck it.

Damn it!

You show that little fucking girl.
You're gonna show that goddamn Jim Stacy.

You're gonna show all of them on that goddamn fucking set
who the fuck Rick Dalton is, all right?

Let me tell you something.

You don't get these lines right,

I'm gonna blow your fucking brains out tonight.

All right? Your brains are gonna be splattered
all over your goddamn pool.

I mean it, motherfucker.

Get your shit together.

-Better? Okay.
-It's great.

Hey!

Hi.

Shit.

Fuck you, you fucking pig!

Oh, no.

Hello, hot stuff.

Looks like third time's the charm.

How were those pickles?

Real good. They were the fancy kind.

Give me a lift?

Where are you going?

I'm going to Chatsworth.

Chatsworth?

You hitch up and down Burbank Boulevard all day
till someone says they'll drive you to Chatsworth?

Tourists love to drive me.

I'm their favorite part of their L.A. vacation.

They'll be telling stories about the Hollywood hippie girl

that they gave a ride to the movie ranch
for the rest of their lives.

Wait, Spahn Movie Ranch?

-Yeah.
-That's where you're going? Spahn Movie Ranch?

Why you going there?

I live there.

-Alone?
-No.

Me and my friends.

So you and a bunch of friends like you all live
at Spahn Movie Ranch?

Yeah.

Well, hop in. I'll take you there.

Great!

-Go down here and get on the Hollywood Freeway.
-I know where it is.

Are you some old cowboy guy
that used to make movies there?

What?

I'm just surprised how accurate
that description of me really is.

Some old cowboy guy that used to shoot movies
at Spahn Ranch.

So you used to make Westerns at the ranch
back in the old-timey days?

Well, if by "the old-timey days,"
you mean television eight years ago, yeah.

Are you an actor?

No, I'm a stuntman.

You're a stuntman.

That's way better.

Why is that way better?

Actors are phony.

They just say lines that other people write

and pretend to murder people on their stupid TV shows.

Meanwhile, real people are being murdered
every day in Vietnam.

Want me to suck your cock while driving?

How old are you?

What?

How old are you?

Wow, man.

That's the first time anybody asked that in a long time.

What's the answer?

Okay. We gonna play kiddie games?

Eighteen. Feel better?

You got some ID, you know,
like a driver's license or something?

Are you joking?

No, I'm not.

I need to see something official that verifies that you're 18,
which you don't have because you're not.

Talk about a bring-down bummer, dude.

That's you.

Yeah.

Obviously, I'm not too young to fuck you.

But obviously, you are too old to fuck me.

What I'm too old to do is go to jail for poontang.

Prison's been trying to get me all my life. It ain't got me yet.

The day it does,

it won't be because of you.

No offense.

You all right, honey?

She's just fine, ain't you, shorty?

I'm fine, Scott.

-They haven't hurt you?
-Camera's ready, Mr. Dalton.

I'll be right out.

The war.

I rode with the British cavalry in Indi--

Stand by, guys. We're going in five.

Lancer's boys are here!

The old man here?

Nada.

But the son is.

The one from Boston.

I don't know.

You from Boston?

Yes.

It's the Boston one!

Keep the others outside.

Let the brother come in.

You heard him, Boston.

Come on in, Boston.

See, honey?

I told you they'd come to parlay.

You all right, honey?

Oh, she's just fine.

Ain't you, shorty?

I'm fine, Scott.

They haven't hurt you?

Not yet, I ain't.

But that can all change...

like that.

Say...

where'd you get that limp?

From the war.

Which side?

I rode with the British cavalry in India.

What'd they call that outfit?

Bengal Lancers.

Now, now, now, that is funny.

-That is funny.
-That's not so funny.

Don't you get it?

"Bengal Lancer"?

Oh, yeah.

I get it now.

-That is kind of funny.
-It is.

You do know kidnapping is a hanging offense.

So is blowing the heads off little girls.

But they can only hang me once, right?

So...

you come down here for a--

For a Boston social?

-Or we gonna talk price?
-How much?

I'd say $50,000 would buy me

a whole lot of chicken mole in Mexico.

That's a lot of money.

Well, she's a lot of little girl.

Or don't you agree?

I agree.

So, what's next?

I'll send one of my boys out to your ranch
to fill you in on all the details...

but the one detail I'm gonna fill you in on right now is this:

I don't want no beaner bronco buster
handing me that $50,000.

I want the old man himself.

Murdoch Lancer puts $50,000 in my lap...

or I heave this little pitcher down a well!

You got that, Boston?!

Yeah.

All right, messenger boy.

Deliver my message.

Give me evil, sexy Hamlet.

Settle into it.

Enjoy it.

And cut!

Oh, boy.

I didn't hurt you there, Marabella, with that throw, did I?

No, no, no. I'm good. I got pads on.

And I throw myself on the floor just for fun,
even when I'm not getting paid.

The gate's clean.

Rick, Rick, Rick.

Put her there.

-That was it.
-Really?

That was absolutely fantastic.

-Oh, thank you.
-I loved it.

Hey, and your idea about throwing the little girl
on the ground, that just worked like a charm.

-I figured you said Shakespeare, so... Yeah.
-That's right. That was--

That's what I mean by "scare me."

-Yeah. Yeah. Yeah.
-Evil Hamlet scares people.

-All right.
-Oh, and by the way...

-"Beaner bronco buster"?
-Yeah.

-Where the hell did that come from?
-I don't know. Improv.

That was wonderful. It was just--
That was a triple alliterative improv.

You don't hear those too often.

-Okay? We're good.
-All right. We don't--?

-Don't need to go again?
-No, we're done. That was fantastic.

-All right.
-Okay, moving on. We're in the bordello.

Next setup!

That was the best acting I've ever seen in my whole life.

Thank you.

Rick fucking Dalton.

That's a car.

That's a strange car.

Snake, go see who's outside.

So who is it?

I ain't for sure yet.

It's a bitchin' yellow Coupe de Ville.

Keep an eye on him.

Come on.

Where the hell is everybody?

Hey, where's Gypsy?

She's down by the chop shop.

-Hey!
-Hello!

Gypsy! I want you to come meet my new friend.

Some old-looking dude in a Hawaiian shirt
who just gave Pussycat a ride home.

He just gave her a lift?

Nope. She's bringing him down the ranch to meet everybody.

Stay by the door. Tell me if he starts coming this way.

-Welcome to our community.
-Thanks for having me.

And thank you for giving our precious Pussy a ride home.

Think nothing of it.

We love Pussy.

Yes, we do.

Hey, where is everybody? Where's the children?

Everybody left for Santa Barbara.

Really?

Charlie's gone? Everybody left?

Well, not everybody-everybody, but mostly everybody.

Drag.

I really wanted Cliff to meet Charlie.

I think Charlie's really gonna dig you.

-Angel, hold up.
-Well, maybe next time.

Yeah, you got to come back.

-Yeah?
-Yeah, sure.

So how's it all comparing to your glory days?

Well, things have changed.

Not a bad mount, Connie.

I used to ride horses every day back in Tennessee.

-Is that right?
-Every day?

Well, every week.

All right.

Ain't she just darling?

So my name is Lulu.

This is Tex.

We're gonna be leading you on a great trail ride
through the beautiful Santa Susana canyons.

Now, Curt, I hear you're already an experienced rider.

-Yes.
-Yeah, and so are you, Connie?

-Yes, I am.
-Hey, Tex?

-Come here.
-So if you're both experienced riders,

I guess we'll just make this ride about having fun.

You ready to have some fun?

So Pussycat brought back some guy with her.

-Gypsy wants you to go give him a look-see.
-Yeah. Sure thing.

Oh, and here's someone you absolutely have to meet.

One of our most favorite sons.

Tex, come on over here and say hi to Cliff.

-Howdy, Cliff.
-Tex.

-What part of Texas you from?
-Oh, a place you never heard of.

Copeville.

Ever been to Houston?

Course I have.

Yeah, I spent two weeks once on a Houston chain gang.

In August, no less.

That doesn't sound like a whole lot of fun.

It's the last cop's jaw I ever broke, I can tell you that.

Man...

Charlie's gonna dig you.

The Hawaiian guy seems to be okay.

Everybody's talking all friendly.

-Enjoy your day!
-Thank you.

Tex checked him out, and now he's riding away.

If he comes this way, let me know.

Hey, does George Spahn still own this ranch?

Yeah, George still owns it.

-Does he still live here?
-Yeah.

Does he still live right there?

Yeah.

Is he here now?

I guess so.

So George gave you all permission to be here?

Course he did.

And y'all take care of him?

Oh, we take care of George.

We love George.

Is there anything wrong
with me saying hello to an old friend?

You can't see him right now.

Why can't I see him right now?

Because he's napping.

This is his nap time.

Well, I think I'll just go see for myself.

You never know.

He might have just woke up.

The old Hawaiian guy's coming this way.

Okay, y'all, beat it.

I'll handle this guy.

Fine.

You the mama bear?

-Can I help you?
-I hope so.

I'm an old friend of George's. Thought I'd stop and say hello.

That's very nice of you,
but unfortunately, you picked the wrong time.

George is taking a nap right now.

Oh, that is unfortunate.

Yes, it is.

-What's your name?
-Cliff Booth.

How do you know George?

I used to shoot Westerns here at the ranch.

When was the last time you saw George?

Oh, I'd say about...

eight years ago.

I'm sorry. I didn't realize the two of you were so close.

When he wakes up, I'll let him know you came by.

I'd really like to say a quick hello now while I'm here.

Came a long ways.

Don't know when I'll get back this way again.

Oh, I understand, but I'm afraid that's impossible.

Impossible?

Why is that impossible?

Because me and George like to watch TV
on Sunday night-- F.B.I. and Bonanza.

--but George finds it hard to keep awake that late,
so I make him take a nap now

so I don't get gypped out of my George TV time.

Well, look, Red, I'm coming in there.

With my own two eyes, I'm gonna get a good look at George.

And this...

ain't stopping me.

Okay.

Suit yourself.

He back there?

Door at the end of the hallway.

You might have to shake him awake.
I fucked his brains out this morning.

He may be tired.

Oh, Mr. Eight Years Ago?

George is blind,
so you'll probably have to tell him who you are.

George, you awake?

George?

George?

George?

-George!
-Jesus.

-Hi, George.
-Wait a minute.

-What's going on?
-Everything's all right.

-I'm sorry to disturb you.
-Who are you?

It's Cliff Booth.

-Just stopped in to say hello and see how you're doing.
-John Wilkes Booth?

No, Cliff Booth.

Who's that?

I used to shoot Bounty Law here, George.

I was Rick Dalton's stunt double.

-Who?
-Rick Dalton.

The Dalton Brothers?

No, Rick Dalton.

Who's that?

He was the star of Bounty Law.

And who are you?

I was Rick's stunt double.

Rick who?

It don't matter, George.

We were colleagues from the past,
and I just wanted to make sure you're doing okay.

-I'm not doing okay.
-What's the matter?

Can't see shit. Would you call that "the matter"?

-The man can't see shit, okay?
-I know. I'm sorry about that. I was told.

Squeaky sent me to bed.

Would that be the little redhead out front?

What the fuck is the matter with you?

First you wake me up,
and now you're pretending that I didn't tell you

I was fucking blind!

How am I gonna know what the hell color the head

of the girl is that's with me all the time?

Oh, fair enough, George.

-No. Jesus Christ.
-Come on, George. All right.

Everyone don't need a stuntman.

I don't know who you are...

but you touched me today.

You came to visit me.

Now I got to go back to sleep.

I got to watch F.B.I. tonight.

I watch it with Squeaky.

She gets all pissed off if I fall asleep.

What happens when she gets pissed off, George?

Nothing.

I just don't like to disappoint her.

So you gave all these hippies permission to be here?

Just who the fuck are you?

I'm Cliff Booth.

I'm a stuntman. We used to work together, George.

And I just want to make sure you're okay.

And that all these hippies aren't taking advantage of you.

-Squeaky?
-Yeah.

She loves me.

So suck on that.

You take care, George.

Goddamn it.

You embarrassed me.

Yeah, sorry about that.

How'd your little talk with George go?
Are we kidnapping him?

Not the word I'd use.

Now that you've talked to him,
do you believe everything's all right?

Not exactly.

-This was a mistake. You should leave.
-Way ahead of you.

George isn't blind!

You're the blind one!

You do that?

You know, that's not my car.

That's my boss's car.

And if something were to happen to my boss's car,
well, I'd get in trouble.

Lucky for you, he's got a spare.

Fix it.

Fuck you.

Ladies.

Come one step closer and I will knock his teeth out.

Fix it.

Can I at least get a rag to wipe my face first?

Nope.

Tire first.

-Sundance.
-Yeah.

Get on a horse, go get Tex and get his ass down here.

Okay.

I love you.

Tex! Tex!

That Hawaiian guy's back at the ranch
kicking Clem's face in.

I'll take over for Tex.

Right this way.

Clem, you all right?

How do?

What a day. Shit, I almost lost my shit.

You...

You want to come in and watch my F.B.I.?

Why, I just figured we would. I got a six-pack in the back.

Thought we'd order a pizza.

All right.

All right.

Eighteen miles to Pendleton, Willard.

Any kind of luck, we'll be unloaded

and back at El Toro before my kids go to bed.

Hey, bought me an acid-dipped cigarette today.

Oh, yeah?

You want to buy a cigarette dipped in acid?

Yeah.

If I'm gonna trip, I want to trip here, man.
Walk in the woods. Not in my home.

Just gonna stash it here.

-Don't smoke it by mistake.
-Yeah.

You want to smoke some, smoke some. Just save me some.

Nah, I don't need to trip out on no acid.

My booze don't need no buddy.

Here I come. Here I come.

What's the trouble, corporal?

There's a truck tailing us, sir.

It might be a farmer in a hurry to get someplace.

Oh, fine.

-Well, take it as fast as you can.
-Yes, sir.

That PCH?

Yeah, yeah. Malibu.

Puerco Canyon or some shit. I don't know.

Here comes trouble.

Oh, man. Right in the face.

That was a smooth leap.

Thank you.

Dead number two.

I like that shot.

That guy's a fucking prick.

That's Bobby Hogan. Good guy.

All right, get ready for my big F.B.I. moment.

-They're all dead, babe.
-Good.

"Michael Murtaugh."

-The F.B.I.
-Michael Murtaugh.

Buongiorno, Sergio.

Turn on Channel 7.

ABC.

F.B.I.

I'm watching your Nebraska Jim as we speak.

--Philip Abbott, William Reynolds.

With guest stars James Farentino,

Rick Dalton...

Like the chewing gum?

-Norman Fell.
-Strong.

Tonight's episode:

-"All the Streets Are Silent."
-"All the Streets Are Silent."

Except when Rick Dalton's got a fucking shotgun,
I'll tell you that.

-You're goddamn right.
-...the new Ford Cortina.

-Well, that looks delicious. Thank you.
-Enjoy, sir.

After that Musso & Frank's lunch meeting,

Marvin did provide Rick job opportunities
in the Italian film industry.

Rick Dalton, Marvin Schwarz here. Hold on.

Hennessy X.O on the rocks.

Yes, Mr. Schwarz.

Two words.

Nebraska Jim, Sergio Corbucci.

Nebraska what?

Sergio who?

Sergio Corbucci.

And who's that?

The second-best director of Spaghetti Westerns
in the whole wide world.

He's doing a new Western. It's called Nebraska Jim.

And because of me, he's considering you.

Well, Rick got Nebraska Jim.

And Rick made a rather compelling Nebraska Jim,

existing quite nicely within Sergio Corbucci's
rogues gallery of antiheroes.

In Rome, Rick loved the paparazzi
and the fuss they made over him

and his Nebraska Jim costar Daphna Ben-Cobo.

All right there, paparazzos. All right. Take it easy.

He loved the food so much that during his stay,
Rick gained almost 15 pounds.

But he didn't love the Italians' way of making movies.

He thought the post-synced,
"every actor speaks their own language,"

Tower of Babel shooting style
of European movies was ridiculous.

While in Rome, Marvin plugged Rick
into three other Italian productions.

His second Western was
Kill Me Quick, Ringo, Said the Gringo,

also starring Joseph Cotten
and directed by Calvin Jackson Padget,

pseudonym for Giorgio Ferroni.

His third was an Italian/Spanish coproduction

that paired him with Telly Savalas,
titled Red Blood, Red Skin,

directed by Joaquín Romero Marchent
and based on the Floyd Raye Wilson novel,

The Only Good Indian Is a Dead Indian.

And his fourth, a Spaghetti secret agent,
James Bond rip-off-type flick called Operazione Dyn-O-Mite!,

directed by Antonio Margheriti.

Ultimately making
Rick's six-month Italian sojourn fairly profitable,

although his swank Roman apartment ate up
a big chunk of his earnings.

So as Rick returns to Hollywood via Pan Am,

he has four new movies under his belt,
some money in his pocket,

and his brand-spanking-new Italian wife,
starlet Francesca Cappucci.

Hurtling through the air towards a new life
and uncertain future,

Rick was really not sure about what lay ahead for him.

Way back in coach,
working on his bottomless Bloody Mary,

Cliff Booth returned to Los Angeles as well.

He kept Rick company
during his entire six-month stay in Italy.

However, as the two men return home,
they've come to an understanding.

Well, here it goes now.

With the...

With the new wife, I...

I just I can't afford you anymore, Cliff.

You know? I can barely afford my own house anymore.

So I think the plan is to sell the house

and buy a condo in Toluca Lake, bank the money.

You know, live off it. That type of thing.

Hopefully, I score come next pilot season.

That's a good plan.

Yeah.

You know,

by then, I'll know if I have a career or not,

if I'm a solid Los Angeles citizen like Eddie O'Brien says,

or if I'm one step closer to going back to Missouri.

So when this whole European journey is over,

I think we've...

We've reached the end of the trail, Cliff.

So these last four Italian flicks, after nine years together,

would be Rick and Cliff's final rodeo.

Cliff doesn't have a clue what he's gonna do.

The only thing the two men know of for sure:

Tonight, Rick and Cliff will have a good old-fashioned drunk.

Both men know,
once the plane touches down in El Segundo,

it'll be the end of an era for both of them.

And when you come to the end of the line with a buddy
who is more than a brother and a little less than a wife,

getting blind drunk together is really
the only way to say farewell.

Here it is, honey.

-You like it?
-I love it.

Where do you want it?

Hello?

Hey, it's Joanna and the baby.

Hi! Come on up.

Hi!

Oh, honey. How are you?

-Oh, my gosh, you're about to pop!
-I know!

I know.

And this is the nursery.

-Oh, my God, Sharon. It's perfect.
-Do you love it?

Little shoes!

I know.

I'm about to burst.

-I think you're gonna be a wonderful mother.
-Thank you.

-Thanks, Gillian.
-Bye!

Bye, Brandy!

Sharon had two friends move into the Cielo Drive residence
while Roman was in London preparing his next movie:

Voytek Frykowski, an old friend of Roman's from Poland,

and his girlfriend, social worker Abigail Folger,

heiress to the vast Folger coffee empire.

That night, Sharon, her two houseguests
and, naturally, Jay...

all went to the West Hollywood Mexican restaurant landmark
El Coyote, on Beverly, for dinner.

What's going on at the dirty movie place?

Oh, they're having a premiere.

Dirty movies have premieres?

Yeah. They're fun.

-This place is always so busy.
-I know.

It's crazy in here.

And right here for you.

-Gentlemen.
-Thanks.

While closer to 8:30, Rick and Cliff went

to the Valley Mexican restaurant landmark
Casa Vega on Ventura.

Hello. Welcome.

You're welcome, sir.

Well, well, well, if it ain't the cobra himself.

-Hey, Doug. What's happening?
-Hey, Rick.

-How you doing? It's good to see you.
-How's the wife doing?

I'm just kidding. I'm just kidding.

Brandy stayed behind at Rick's house,

guarding the beautiful Italian woman asleep in her bed

and waiting for Cliff and Rick to come home...

while jet-lagged Francesca slept.

But you just get paid for the day

-that you cut his hair, though, right?
-No, no, no.

I get paid $1000 a day.

I get paid $1000 the day I arrive.

-I get paid $1000...
-At El Coyote,

margaritas and good times were had by all, except Sharon.

Sharon was experiencing
a touch of pregnancy-induced melancholy.

Not only that, it was later reported
that it was the hottest night of the year,

and it made her feel especially pregnant
in all the worst ways.

I don't want to party anymore. I am tired.

Because he got it done.

No, it's not-- It's not because he just got it done.

He had just as much time
as all the rest of the goddamn directors.

But it's what he did with that time-- That's what counted.

At Casa Vega, Rick and Cliff drank so much that,

when they left, they left the Cadillac there
and took a cab home.

The greatest action director,

underrated guy of all time.

Around 10, Sharon and her friends left El Coyote
and arrived back at her house.

You've had, like, 19 margaritas.

The four of them hung out a little while longer,
with Abigail even playing the piano for them...

Don't get me mad
Don't tell no lie

Don't make me sad
Don't pass me by

Baby, are you holding

Holding anything but me?

'Cause I'm a real straight shooter
If you know what I mean

You can bring me love
You can hang around

You can bring me up

Don't you bring me down

...until she returned to her room,
smoked a joint and read a book.

That was around 11.

At more or less the same time,
Voytek laid on the couch watching American television

and thought about how much better it was
than Polish television, as he smoked a big joint.

Somewhere around 11:10,
Sharon changed into her comfy house attire.

Feel better?

That is drastically better.

It was after 11:45 by the time
the yellow cab dropped Rick and Cliff

in front of the house.

Thank you. Right here.

All right. Grazie, amigo.

-How much do I owe you?
-Three dollars.

Brandy was glad to see them return.

-Thank you, brother.
-Thanks.

Andiamo. More margaritas.

Around midnight,
a completely drunk Rick Dalton started making

a blender of frozen margaritas.

All right.

We're walking.

At the same time, Cliff was attaching a leash
to an excited Brandy's dog collar.

I know.

I remember you.

-A cigarette dipped in acid. What's that do?
-You smoke it. It gets you high.

-How much?
-Fifty cents.

Fifty cents.

Hippie girl, 50 cents.

Tonight the night?

Why not?

And away we go.

Our Polish friend said it was the hottest day of the year.

Despite the fact that he said it, actually, it might be true.

Goddamn.

Fucking private road.

Damn property taxes up the butt.

Goddamn.

Bunch of goddamn fucking hippies.

What the fuck?

Hey, you!

Yeah, asshole, I'm talking to you!

What the hell do you think you're doing
bringing that noisy hunk of shit

around here at midnight?

This is a private road, all right?

Who are you? And who are you here to see?

Nobody, sir. We just got lost and a little turned around.

Horseshit.

You fucking hippies came up here
to smoke dope on a dark road, huh?

Next time you want to try that, fix your fucking muffler.

-Look, we're really sorry we disturbed you.
-Look, chief, you don't belong here.

Now, take this mechanical asshole
and get it off my fucking street!

Hey!

Dennis Hopper! Move this fucking piece of shit!

All right. Just give me a moment to turn it around.

Drive it backwards, numbnuts,

-but fucking drive it, and drive it now!
-Okay. Okay. Stop yelling.

Hold your horses. We're leaving.

The hell are you looking at, you little ginger-haired fucker?

Hey, you come around here again,
I'm gonna call the fucking cops!

Dirty fucking hippies.

There in his fancy fucking house, thinking he's handled it.

But he's seen us. He's awake. He's alert.

They're all awake. They're listening to fucking records.
Everybody's fucking awake!

Look!

-What did Charlie say?
-He said:

"Go to Terry's old house and kill everybody in there."

And you heard him yourself. He said, "Make it witchy."

Now, he either said that,

or I'm a liar.

Now, are any one of you calling me a liar?

How about you?

Are you calling me a liar?

No, of course not.

Good.

Hold it.

-Was that Rick Dalton?
-Who?

The guy from Bounty Law.

-Who, Jake Cahill?
-Yeah.

That guy in the robe was Jake Cahill.

Wait a minute. That was fucking Jake Cahill
that just yelled at me?

He was older, but, yeah, I think so.

-So who's this Rick guy?
-Jesus Christ, Sadie, get it together.

Rick Dalton played Jake Cahill on a cowboy show
in the '50s called Bounty Law.

Fuck you, Katie.

Sorry I don't know the name
of every fascist on TV in the '50s.

I can't believe that asshole in the robe was Jake Cahill.

When I was a kid, I had a Bounty Law lunch box.

That was my favorite of all my lunch boxes.

Dig this!

When we've been having our trip sessions,
I've been expanding on this one idea in my head.

All right, dig it. We all grew up watching TV,
you know what I mean?

And if you grew up watching TV,
that means you grew up watching murder.

Every show on TV
that wasn't I Love Lucy was about murder.

So my idea is...

we kill the people who taught us to kill.

I mean, where the fuck are we, man?
We are in fucking Hollywood, man.

The people an entire generation grew up
watching kill people live here.

And they live in pig-shit fucking luxury. I say fuck them.

I say we cut their cocks off and make them eat it.

That's a great idea, Sadie.

You two ready to kill some piggies?

Wait a minute. Oh, shit.

Sorry, I forgot my knife in the car. Can I go--?
Can I go back and get it?

-Yeah, sure.
-Okay.

Go on. Wait a minute.

-What?
-I locked the car. You'll need keys to get in.

Right. Thank you.

-Okay. I'll be right back.
-Okay.

-Just hurry up.
-Yeah, just a little minute.

Oh, that fucking bitch!

Calm down. There's a fucking house right there.

-What do we do now?
-We do what we came to do.

And when we're done, we split up and hitch home.

Any more questions?

Okay, pig killers, let's kill some piggies.

All right.

Oh, someone's hungry.

All right.

It's feeding time.

Brandy, couch.

And don't you mo--

Oh, man.

The train has left the station.

Bad idea.

Eighty men died

On the countryside

Ten, 20, 30, 40

Fifty or more

The bloody Red Baron
Was rollin' up the score

You go around there, see if there's a back entrance.

All right? Go.

Hey.

I am doing the best I can under the circumstances.

Now, I do not want to get into it tonight.

Can I help you?

Shit.

How many other people are here?

Oh, just the one sleeping in the back there.

Go get him and bring him into the living room.

-What if he says no?
-Don't take no for an answer.

You're the one with the knife. Get him in here!

Hey.

You are real, right?

I'm as real as a doughnut, motherfucker.

What the fuck?

-Go to the living room.
-What is going on, huh?

-Go!
-Si, si.

Who the fuck's that?

I don't know.

Francesca.

What--?

Oh, I know you.

I know all three of you.

Yeah. Spahn Ranch.

Spahn Ranch. Yeah.

I don't know your name, but I remember that hair.

And you, I remember your white little face.

And you were on a horsie.

Yeah.

You are...?

I'm the devil,

and I'm here to do the devil's business.

Nah, it was dumber than that. Something like... Rex.

-God, shoot him, Tex!
-Tex.

Fuck!

Son of a bitch!

Hey, you.

How dare you come into my house, motherfucker!

Wow, man.

What the fuck?!

Jesus Christ.

Holy shit.

Francesca! Francesca, honey!

-10,000 block, Cielo Drive.
-Sir, around what time was it

when you confronted the intruder?

It was about midnight.

-Around midnight?
-Yeah.

How do you know it was midnight?

Well, I was in the kitchen.

You know, I was making margaritas, and...

I heard the sound of a noisy muffler. I looked up at the clock.

It said... The kitchen clock said midnight.

-Twelve o'clock exactly?
-I mean, it could have been 12:05.

-Something like that.
-And you didn't see them again

until the woman attacked you in the pool.

No, no.

So, what did these perpetrators do?

Perpetrators? They were hippie assholes.

Two of them burst through the front door there,

and the guy hippie said he was the devil.

And he said, "I'm here to...

do some devil shit."

Or... That's not verbatim, but...

-"Some devil shit"?
-Yeah, "devil shit."

And away we go.

Hey. Wait a minute. Wait a minute.

What hospital you going to, Cliff? I'll meet you there, huh?

You don't want to meet me in no hospital.

Why don't you go take care of your lady.

Hey, she just took five fucking sleeping pills.

She'll be asleep till Columbus Day.

These guys will probably have to come out here again
just to wake her ass up.

Hey, I'm not gonna die.
I may get a limp, but I ain't gonna die.

-It's not my time yet, man.
-All right.

So no use waiting in some waiting room.
Why don't you go lie naked with that fine creature.

Come visit me tomorrow.

Bring bagels.

You want to do something for me, check on Brandy.

She may be a little shook up after that.
She may want to sleep with you.

Are you kidding me?
She's sleeping with Francesca right now.

You might never get her back.

-We got to go.
-All right, then, Cliff.

I'll see you tomorrow, then.

Hey. Hey.

You're a good friend, Cliff.

I try.

Hello?

Hey.

I'm Jay Sebring. I'm a friend of the Polanskis.

You're Rick Dalton, right?

Yeah. Yeah. I'm Rick Dalton.

-Live next door.
-Oh, I know.

I tease Sharon that she lives next door to Jake Cahill.

If she ever wants to put a bounty on Roman's head,
she just has to go next door, right?

No shit.

What the fuck happened?

Oh, these fucking hippie weirdos,

they broke into my house.

What do you mean, like, trying to rob you?

We don't know what the fuck they wanted.

Were they robbing me? I don't know.
Were they freaking out on some bummer trip?

Who knows? But they tried to kill my wife and my buddy.

-Jesus Christ. Are you serious?
-Yeah, I'm fucking serious.

Now, my buddy and his dog killed two of them, and then...

Well, shit. I torched the last one.

"Torched"?

Yeah. I burnt her ass to a crisp.

-How'd you do that?
-Well, believe it or not, I--

-I got a flamethrower in my toolshed.
-Oh, from The Fourteen Fists of McCluskey.

Yeah!

Yeah. Yeah.

That's the one.

Yeah, it still works too. Thank God.

Is everybody okay?

Well, the fucking hippies aren't, that's for goddamn sure.

Yeah. But I'm fine.

You know, my wife's fine.

-We're just a little shook up, is all.
-Oh, my God, that's terrifying.

Yeah.

Jay, honey, is everything all right?

Everything's okay now, honey.

But some hippies broke into the house next door.

Oh, my God.

Oh, that's terrifying.

Is everybody okay?

I'm talking to your next-door neighbor about it right now.

Rick Dalton?

Yeah, that's me.

Well, hello, neighbor.

Is everybody okay?

Yes, Sharon, everybody's fine.

Are you okay?

Well, yes, I am. Thank you for asking that.

Rick, would you like to come up to the house
for a drink and meet my other friends?

Yeah, sure.

Thank you.

Great. I'll buzz you up.

Come on.

-Hey, nice to meet you, huh?
-Yeah.

-Jay Sebring.
-Hey, pleasure.

-Yeah.
-Pleasure, Jay. Pleasure's all mine.

Sounds like you had a hell of a night.

Hi. This is Rick Dalton,
better known as bounty hunter Jake Cahill,

speaking on behalf of Red Apple cigarettes.

Now, I smoke Red Apples. Been smoking them for years.

But since the Red Apple tobacco company's
been around since 1862,

you'll see Jake Cahill smoke Red Apple too.

Now, back in Jake's day, Red Apple came in a pouch,
and he had to roll his own.

But today, Red Apple comes factory-rolled.

For the best drag with the best tobacco flavor,

with less burn on your throat
than any other non-filtered cigarette.

Now, that's the way a cigarette should taste.

Better drag, more flavor,

less throat burn.

That's the Red Apple way.

So, look for this life-size standee of me, Jake Cahill,

wherever fine Red Apple tobacco products are sold.

Take a bite and feel all right.

Take a bite of a Red Apple.

Tell them Jake sent you.

-And cut.
-This cigarette tastes like fucking shit.

And, by the way, who chose this photo?
I have a double chin. All right?

Nobody notices that crap?

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