All language subtitles for Hoodlum.1997.720p.BluRay.X264-AMIABLE_HI

(roaring)

(inspiring music)

(mysterious music)

(rolling)

(clattering)

(jazzy music)

(ominous music)

(cell door clattering)

(knocking)

- Come in.

Johnson, you're different from
the other coloreds in here.

You read books, play chess, write poetry,

but I don't believe you
have any regret whatsoever

for taking a man's life.

A man who recognizes his mistakes

is ready to seek God's forgiveness.

- Yeah, I read the Bible, warden.

- And?

(dramatic music)

- It's a good book.

(traffic sounds)

(hoofs clopping)

(crowd speaking)

(chanting)

- Let the men pass, son.

No man knoweth the moment, nor the hour.

(bell tolling)

Good day to you, sir.

- I'll be damned, Bumpy Johnson.

They let your ass out, huh?

- How's business, brother?

- People out of work, they're
gonna play the numbers.

- Batter up!

This one's for you, Babe Ruth!

(shattering)

- You're gonna pay for that, Bub!

- Where's the slip?

Where's the slip?

(crashing)

- Call off your dogs, Bub!

- What did I tell you

about running numbers

out of this place?

- I was just trying to make a living,

just like you, motherfucker!

- You mess with Dutch Schultz,

you're messing with me!

You don't write

a goddamn thing

in Harlem!

Do you understand that now?

- Yes.

- It's a new day!

Dutch Schultz

writes policy

in Harlem!

(dramatic music)

- Keep the motor running, Cecil.

- Yes, sir.

- Very nice.

Hello.

Take Bambi for a walk, I'll be right out.

Watch out for all the broken glass here.

Hey, Bobby, Mr. Luciano.

- Stand up for Mr. Luciano.

- Please, sit.

Sit down, please.

Things are progressing here rapidly.

You guys are doing okay.

- We make a mint.

- Well, well, Cecil.

How long's it been?

- Damn near since been
a year of days, brother.

- What the hell you doing chauffeuring?

- Paying the bills.

My old lady made me put down the gun.

- Regards to Helen.

- You got it.

- You won't have major trouble
with Madame Queen's people.

(chuckling)

Here.

- Yeah, well, she's the last holdout.

She bends to the stick, Harlem's ours.

- Hello, Dutch.

- Well, well, Lucky,

you're slumming today.

- I thought I'd stop by, you know,

for your portion of the Dewey payment.

- Yeah, special fucking prosecutor,

trying to put my ass in
jail for tax evasion,

I've still gotta make a fucking payoff.

- You want to keep our
shirt collars clean,

you gotta have Dewey in our pocket.

- I ain't seen him touching
your fucking business.

- That's because I show him respect.

You're so busy with your Harlem pennies,

you're forgetting the big picture, Dutch.

- Yeah, well,

nigger pennies, white pennies,

they all add up to the same fucking thing:

My fucking dollars.

- Well, that's why I'm here.

Ante up.

- Get the cash.

When you give your friend Dewey

2,000 of my hard-earned dollars,

you tell him one thing:

If he don't back off,
I'll kill him myself.

- Here, Dutch.

- You got mustard on your suit.

- Yeah, well, I'm breaking
it in for a friend.

(dramatic music)

Answer me this:

Why would that droopy-eyed, low life,

greaseball pimp come
all the way up to Harlem

when he could send a stooge?

- I don't know.

- It's rhetorical.

(upbeat music)

- Illinois, come on, baby,
take me some love of mine.

Come on, baby, put the number slips away.

- These number slips
is how I make my money.

Come on, you're confusing me, Pigfoot,

I'm three slips short,
you know how the Queen is,

she already don't like
me, would you just let

a man accomplish his
business, please, jelly roll?

- I'm your business now,
you need to accomplish this.

(laughing)

- Pigfoot,

what time do I have to turn in my slips?

- One o'clock.

- And what time do the
people check the late edition

of the papers so they
can get the day's numbers

off them stock exchange totals?

- And why are you talking to
me like I'm a goddamn idiot?

I know how to play the numbers,
you need to be playing this.

(knocking)

(gasping)

- Is that your husband?

- How do I know?

I don't know nothing
about that two-timing,

baby-face, gray cad.

Don't shoot him, don't shoot him!

- Don't shoot him?

If you don't get your ass in that closet...

- All right, just give me a minute, shit.

Okay.

- Bumpy Johnson.

What's buzzin', cousin?

Don't you put your hand out there for me.

Come over and hug, my nigga.

Oh, look at you, oh, my goodness.

- It's been a long time, huh?

- Oh, man, come here, man.

- Good to see you.

- Oh, Mary, Mary, come on out here.

You remember my cousin, Bumpy.

- Hey, Miss Mary.

- Oh, Bumpy Johnson.

Oh, boy, you're a sight for sore eyes.

- Good to see you.

I, uh, didn't interrupt anything, did I?

- Baby, you and me gonna have
to lay dead for a little while

because I got to tend
to my man's well-being.

- Dead?

Oh, you putting me out?

- No, not yet, no, no...

- It's going to be a long time

before you get your ham bone boiled again,

and you stay from up in
my face, you hear me?

- Good to see you, Pigfoot.

(chuckling)

- You think you're sharp
just 'cause your damn head

is pointed, what you
doing, knocking on my door

like you the damn police or worse?

Don't be ignorant your whole life.

Oh, Bumpy Johnson.

- Illinois Gordon, how's business?

- Dutch Schultz is at it again.

You know, he been gatting
folks all over town?

Don't respect nothing, he's
messing with the Queen.

- The Queen?

(whistling)

Queen don't bow to no man.

- She ain't bowed yet, but,

well, we can talk about that another time.

- I see you still kiting around
with the large size ladies.

- Now, hold on there, my
cousin, like I always tell you,

it ain't nothing like the loving you get

from a big woman.

- Same old bear.

(chuckling)

(dramatic music)

- He thinks I'm just going to roll over.

(speaking in foreign language)

- Take it easy, Henry,
Dutch just want to talk.

(speaking in foreign language)

- Seems like everybody in Harlem

played 5-0-5 straight and
the goddamn number hits.

I needed 18 grand to pay off the players,

that's why I came to you.

Now, my runners are telling me

that your boys are playing rough.

- Sit down, Henry, I'm
getting a fucking neck ache.

(radio chattering)

- There's your money.

Plus two in interest on
the loan, like we agreed.

- Yeah, but I don't consider
that a fucking loan, Henry.

That was an investment.

It's my belief that investment entitles me

to a piece of the fucking bank.

We're partners, Henry.

(speaking in foreign language)

English.

- No, no, no, no, I know you

since you were selling shit-piss
needle beer in the Bronx,

and you're still the same.

(speaking in foreign language)

- Henry, Henry, Henry, Henry.

- Oh, no, you might have pulled this shit

on a motherfucking negro, a Willy Brunder,

and Big Joe Eisen, but
that's because those bankers,

they ain't got no balls.

I've got balls as big as you!

(speaking in foreign language)

(gunshot)

(choking)

- Big balls,

no brains.

(club music)

- Jesus!

I don't feel comfortable here.

- Relax.

- I don't think the mayor'd
be particularly happy

to know that his special prosecutor

is having a meeting in
Mr. Luciano's valeur.

- Why don't you ask him?

He's on the second floor right now.

This month's contributions.

- Fine.

We have a problem.

- That valise is not big enough?

- I'm talking about Arthur Flegenheimer.

- You know why Arthur chose
the name Dutch Schultz?

Because he wants respect.

Who's going to respect a man

by the name of Arthur Flegenheimer?

"All right, boys, stick 'em up.

"My name is Arthur Flegenheimer!"

It won't work, Mr. Dewey.

- He's threatening to kill me?

- It's nonsense.

He's all bent out of shape

because of your tax evasion charges.

He'd rather lose a testicle

than give a dollar up to the government.

- So what do you propose?

- I propose you take it easy,

think about your future, not our demise.

In the meantime,

enjoy the scenery, have a long
drink with one of the girls.

- All right, listen to me very carefully.

I don't want to have to say this again.

I am not your friend.

I don't want the services of your whores.

We are in a business arrangement,

for obvious mutual benefits.

Mr. Schultz threatens this arrangement.

Have I made myself clear?

- Crystal.

It's clear you took the money.

- Cousin, I ain't seen this many

poor folks in Harlem in all my life.

- Well, cousin, welcome to the depression.

The only way a cat can make a dime

these days is running numbers.

(shouting)

You ain't got no glue on
your fingers, now do you?

All right, hey, Toots, I see you.

You can't keep ducking me.

All right.

(pounding)

- My boy is back.

- Whispers, you ain't never had no loot

but you still my favorite boot.

(laughing)

- Oh, it's real good to see you, Bump.

You're late, Illinois.

- [All] Surprise!

- Did somebody say something
about scrooging somebody?

(applause)

- I can't believe it.

- This is the new guy, Vallie.

- Mr. Johnson.

- Nice to meet you.

- Come on, come on,
Madame Queen is waiting,

been waiting.

There she is.

(uplifting music)

- Hello, Madame Queen.

- Bumpy Johnson.

You still have the light in your eyes.

Praise God.

- Before we get this,
uh, this soirée started,

I need to speak with you for a few ticks.

- All right.

Y'all enjoy yourself here.

(applause)

- Illinois said that Dutch
Schultz put six of your men

on the slab at Harlem Hospital.

(groaning)

- Oui.

The Mr. Schultz is trying
to make trouble for me,

but I set up a meeting with him next week,

and it is then I will
make my position clear.

- I want to go with you to that meeting

as your bodyguard.

- You think you're going to
protect her, lamb's breath?

That for me job, me take care of Queen.

- I have faith in Tee.

- I know Tee-Ninchy got spine,

but faith ain't gonna
get rid of the Dutchman.

I saw what his boys did to Willie Brunden.

I'm not going to stand by and do nothing,

and let something like that happen to you.

The man is threatening
to take over business

that's taken you 10 years to build up.

I want everybody to know

the Queen's still carrying power uptown.

Please.

- I still can't say no to you, eh?

- I had a dream last
night, a big old crawfish

jumped off a plate and bit me.

- Yeah?

- What Madame Zora
dream book say for fish?

- 579, but I wouldn't bother with no 579,

because that stock exchange
thing that they use

for the numbers was at 579 last week,

it ain't going to be 579 again.

- There was some sweet
potato pie on the plate, too.

- Uh huh, potatoes is under potatoes.

Oh, good, here it is, 6-4-2.

Ha, 6-4-2, uh-uh,

I ain't going to play no
6-4-2, it gives me gas.

I tell you this again,

I ain't playing no
number that give me gas.

- Woman, I bet your gas smell

as sweet as flowers in the springtime.

- Don't you be trying to
get in my good graces.

You done had your chance.

- Hey, Ms. Mary.

- Shut up.

Damn, woman, you hard as lard.

- You know what?

I hate crawfish.

I'm just going to head on

and play a dime on 6-4-2 straight.

- That's another dime down the drain.

- Oh, Lord have mercy,
garvey-eyed Francine.

- This is for you and the kids.

Save your money, Sul.

- Hey, hey, hey, watch yourself now.

You don't need to be telling her that.

Why don't you stay out
of grown folk business

before I beat you till
you smell like onions?

- And I'll drag you by
that mile-wide collar

and drop you in the gutter.

- Yeah, yeah, let me see that.

Now, look at this.

What you doing peddling this
gold can jibe to begin with?

You can bake it, boil it, fry it,

fricassee it, hang it out to dry,

it's still just as funky
as a fat man's drawers.

Here, take this.

- Don't you see people hungry, huh?

What do you do for people, numbers man?

- Francine, I have told you several times,

I'm the poor man's race track.

- You take the money out of pockets

and you put food on the table.

A million-to-one odds, it's a scam.

It's gambling, that's what it is.

- Excuse me.

I believe the numbers provide jobs

for over 2,000 colored folks
right here in Harlem alone.

A penny gets you six dollars, that's what,

a month worth of groceries?

- That's right, a month
worth of people food,

not this bullshit here.

- It's the only homegrown business we got.

- Are you his partner?

- Don't worry about it.

- Y'all make a better
team than Amos and Andy.

(laughing)

- I don't need no partner.

My name is Bumpy Johnson.

- Bumpy?

Your mama named you Bumpy?

(whooping)

- That's all right, what you gonna do

with all that pretty
ham in hot-ass African,

you ain't got no straightening
curls over there, ugly.

Damn, she fine as frog eggs.

- Okay, cousin, tell me
about Miss Francine Hughes.

- Oh, Francine.

She's always quoting Marcus Garvey

about moving back to hot-ass Africa.

I think she works down
at that United Negro

something-or-other.

- [Bumpy] Improvement Association?

- That's it.

- Man, she sure is high tolling,

you see the glimmers on that girl?

Where do you think she
got them eyes, cousin?

- Francine Hughes is not going to take up

with the likes of you.

She high-powered and
she got a boot's lace.

Don't even pay that no nevermind.

- All I want to do is converse with her.

- Mm-hm, yeah, I bet you want

to have a long-ass conversation.

(chuckling)

Son, the man that walks with Francine

will walk down the Christian path.

(buzzing)

Oh, hey, damn!

All these roaches in here.

I've been stepping on corn flakes.

- Well, at least you
won't be sleeping alone.

- Hey, Bumpy, you know,

these last couple of
years, here, with you gone,

I just want to say, I really
missed you, that's all.

- I missed you, too.

- Got you a little present.

Now, it's not new.

Got it from old Clarence up on Saint Nick.

- Hello, there, Mr. Speaker.

- Yeah, figured you might need that

to open a few doors for yourself.

- Yeah.

That's hard-hitting, thanks, cousin.

(dramatic music)

- Together, we got strength,

we got experience.

Most of all, though, we got organization.

A partnership's going
to increase the profits.

(speaking in foreign language)

- There will be no profits

with your boys collecting the money.

- What do I got, I got fucking horns

growing out of my head here?

I don't feel nothing.

Man, I'm stiffy, I'm not
the fucking devil here.

- But you do the devil's work.

Six of my men is proof of that.

- Yeah, but if I hadn't
sent you an invitation,

you wouldn't have met me, would you?

No, Queen.

From what I hear, you ain't
exactly a fucking nun yourself.

- Mr. Schultz, we're not here to talk

about your right to own your own bank,

but I ask to respect my right to my own.

Comprenez-vous?

- Oh, yeah, fucking vous.

- Vous?

- Now, that reminds me, this thing

which that spic, Henry Miro, said.

He said he had the
balls to stand up to me.

Les balls mes grandes,
that's what he fucking said.

You know something?

You know he does have big fucking balls.

(speaking in foreign language)

- You gonna shoot me this time, Bub?

If so, you might want to
lower that a little bit,

hit me in the heart, so
you don't make a mess.

So, Dutch,

you want to do this peaceful,
or you want to make a go?

- Boys, boys,

lower the fucking metal.

- Put them down.

Tee-Ninchy, now ain't the
time, put the shotgun down.

- Man crazy.

Man real crazy, think he can drop

dead man's balls upon me Queen?

- You forget one thing, Tee.

Me no got no balls to lose.

- We ain't going to crease,

like Brunder or Miro.

- Some you win,

some you fucking lose.

We got a problem.

- She's going to fold.

- I ain't talking about her.

(sighing)

- He's not going to go away.

("I Want to Be Your Mother's
Son-In-Law" by Mann Holiner)

# You don't have to have a hanker

# To be a broker or a banker

# No siree, just simply be

# My mother's son-in-law

# Needn't even think of tryin'

# To be a mighty social lion

# Sipping tea, if you'll be

# My mother's son-in-law #

- Damn, look at all these fine women.

They must be having recess in heaven.

- Ain't nobody here.

(laughing)

- Uh oh, don't look now,

but here's your chance to have
your long-ass conversation.

- Oh, look who came with Illinois,

Francine's new friend, Bumpy.

- He's not my friend.

- All the women in the
neighborhood have eyes for him.

Oh, honey, he's a killer dealer.

- He is not my type.

- Oh, you can't judge him hook,

you just want to look.

(clearing throat)

- Miss Mary,

what say you do me the honor

of joining me out here on the dance floor?

- Today's your lucky day, boy.

Sulie want to dance, too.

- Oh, hell no, I don't want to dance.

My feet hurt.

- Yes, you do.

- Oh, yeah.

Who wouldn't want to
dance with old Illinois?

- Mind if I sit?

- I heard about you, Mr.
Ellsworth Bumpy Johnson.

Fresh out of Sing Sing
and back on the streets.

- Yeah.

I got a reputation,

but I like you, and I
think you like me, so,

let's dance.

("Solitude" by Duke Ellington)

# In my solitude

# You haunt

# Me

# With dreadful ease

# Of days gone by #

(laughing)

- Oh, my God, oh, thanks.

Thanks for walking me home.

- My pleasure.

- I have one question.

Why you gotta involve yourself in numbers?

- Well, what would you have me do?

Shine shoes, carry bags
down at Grand Central?

I'm a colored man and white folks

ain't left me nothing out
here but the underworld.

- Well, I disagree, there
are colored doctors,

colored lawyers, colored accountants...

- [Bumpy] True.
- [Francine] Writers.

Musicians, you could do any one of those.

- I do write a little poetry.

- You write a little poetry?

- I ask myself where she got those eyes,

so full of life, so free of lies.

How does one get eyes like that?

I tell myself that she robbed a cat.

You liked it?

- Yeah, I like it.

- Well, when can I see you again?

- Well, keep writing those poems,

Ellsworth, and we'll see.

Goodnight.

- Have a good evening.

(thunder rumbling)

(thunder crackling)

(shouting)

- You niggers ever heard of
the depression, motherfucker?

- I've got 15, 15!

- I got 10, I got 10!

- Blow on my dice for me.

- You move yourself, boy.

- I'm trying to make
some money, Tee-Ninchy,

and I need that cool western-end
breeze, now, come on.

- Come on, now, blow on
it, cool, cool, my man.

Look at that smile.

(whooping)

- He put them lips on them, didn't he?

(laughing)

- We should break the bank now!

Here we go, here we go, here we go.

- Come on, now, what we winning?

- [Bumpy] Nine!

- Oh, hey, hey, man...

- What you doing,
pitching dice on my stoop?

Go away from here.

- Yes, ma'am.

- Mon dieu.

Bumpy, come help an old lady down stairs.

- Yes, ma'am.

- Madame Queen, Madame Queen.

Look at you, you're looking just as fine

as one of them, um, African violets.

- Move from me.

I don't need to have my bottom kissed.

- Where's the trail car?

- Hey, hey, Bumpy.

Boy, I sure wish I was going to the opera.

(laughing)

Hey, hey, hey, hey, Tee-Ninchi,

hey, why you going to the opera

and you can't even
understand English, huh?

Boy, you gotta give me five, give me 10,

give me 20, I would give you
30, but your hand's too dirty.

Look at this, look at this.

(shouting)

(dramatic music)

- What is this now?

- I don't know why you make
me come to these things.

- To culture you, bumpkin.

You know, I have not missed an opera

on my birthday in 16 years?

- I know.

You need to give Tee-Ninchy some culture.

- How about me rattle your head?

- [Queen] Oh, you're going
to love Verdi's Macbeth.

- It's in Italian, I
don't understand Italian.

- It is with life, war,

and most of all, passion.

Mon dieu, we're going
to miss the overture.

(tense music)

- Get down!

(gunshot)

(shotgun blasts)

(rapid gunfire)

(gunshots)

(somber music)

(gunshot)

(shouting)

(rapid gunfire)

(gunshots)

(explosion)

- Bumpy, mercy!

(gunshots)

(rapid gunfire)

(sobbing)

(speaking in foreign language)

(sirens wailing)

- Tee-Ninchy, Tee-Ninchy!

(somber operatic music)

- I can contain it because
only the negro papers have it,

but if Wenchel gets ahold of
this, he'll have a field day.

- Wenchel just wants to sell newspapers.

- Well, he will sell them
at everyone's expense.

Look, Charles, even by your standards,

this is a psychopath.

How much longer am I going to be worried

about Arthur Flegenheimer?

- You got to learn to relax, Thomas.

I'll take care of the Dutchman.

Meantime, why don't you come up here

and join us by the pool?

Could loosen up that stiff neck of yours.

Thank you, Alice.

(shrill barking)

So what's the skinny, Johnny?

- You were right, Mr. Luciano.

My figures show the numbers

at 100,000 a day before payouts.

Harlem is a

gold mine.

- What's the matter?

You want to go swimming, there, Johnny?

- No, I never learned how.

(tense music)

- Where's Hector?

- Went out to get some rice and beans.

- When's he coming back?

- I don't know, boss,

but if you're here to
collect the policy money,

don't worry about a thing.

It's all under control.

- Everything copacetic, cousin?

- Oh, yeah.

- Who the hell are you?

- Me?

- Oh, ha, now you know.

- I'm the bag man.

(punching)

(screaming)

Go, man.

- So, cousin, what are we gonna do

with all of Dutch's money?

- We're gonna put it
back where it belongs.

Hey, Miss Francine.

- Hey, Mr. Johnson.

- Why didn't you say we
was going to see Francine?

- Hey, everybody, we got
a gift from Madame Queen,

courtesy of Dutch Schultz.

(shouting)

(thrilling music)

(crunching)

- These are very nice, John.

(smacking)

First order of business.

Like any square citizen,
we all have tax problems.

I have a solution.

Johnny?

- Mr. Genovesi, Mr. Costello,

Mr. Lansky...

- Get on with it, John, we
ain't got all fucking day here.

- I have taken the liberty of setting up

for our use a number of
accounts in Havana, Cuba.

(crunching)

They are impervious to the
scrutiny of the feds there.

At the request of my
employer, Lucky Luciano,

I hearby offer these services
to each and every one of you.

(applause)

- That's really nice.

- Second order of business.

(crunching)

I'll wait.

- Excuse me.

(smacking)

- The only thing that
threatens our profits

is the unwanted attention
of law enforcement,

so I'm here to talk
about Dutch's activities.

- What about them?

- I got a call from Tom Dewey.

He'd appreciate you spring downtown.

- I got it all under control.

- While he was up in Albany,

old Weinberger said just the opposite.

- Oh, yeah?

- Yeah.

- What did Paul say?

- He said one of the colored bankers

don't want to join your combination.

He indicated to us that

you might need a little help
straightening things out.

- Paul must have been having a bad day,

his wife just went off
with a dago from yonders.

(chuckling)

(muttering)

- I was going to propose
that myself, Frank,

and Vido will lend you a little help.

- In return for a little
piece, huh, Lucky?

Come to you guys a year ago,
saying we should go uptown,

you said nigger pennies was
a waste of fucking time.

So, to you and your proposal,
I say only one thing:

Take a flying fuck.

- Always missing the point.

Okay, Dutch, you're on
your own, do as you wish.

If you need help from us down the line,

from us dagos, your price just went up.

On that note,

this meeting's ajourned.

Boys, Vido, can I see you in my library?

Nick, show Mr. Schultz to the door.

- Put your hat back on.

You look ridiculous.

- You in big trouble.

There's no other way to say it.

She'll be right down.

- You take your hat off
in the house or what?

- Now you're giving me lessons on manners.

Goddamn, look at the
titties on that statue.

Boy, if I...

(speaking in foreign language)

- I hope you're proud of yourself.

You have dishonored my
name with your betrayal.

Who are you?

Dutch Schultz burned down three

of my policy house this afternoon.

- So we burn down three
of his, an eye for an eye.

- So you're the Queen now, eh?

Tell me, who's running this operation?

- You.

- Then why you disregard my orders

and steal from Schultz, huh?

You think I don't know why
you're sticking close to me?

You think I don't see your ambition?

- It was time to take a stand.

- I'll take care of Schultz myself!

I am the Queen.

- But you are afraid of him.

Never thought I'd see the day

that you are afraid of any man.

- Of course I'm afraid,

but fear be a good thing sometime.

It checks the angry spirit.

- I can beat him, Queen.

I can beat the Dutchman at his own game.

- Use your head, Bumpy.

Where you think they're
gonna fight this war?

On Park Avenue?

No, my love, here.

Right here

on the streets of Harlem.

- I'm prepared to deal with
the consequences of that.

- And what about the rest of us?

You open the faster blood,

you'll never shut it off.

- Three fucking grand?

- You know, this guy's a real tornado.

(baseball announcer speaking)

- Hey, Bub,

you're going to kill my
English ivy tree there.

- Sorry.

- Dutch, the Sulkies are
the best pickaxe boys

in the business.

They'll turn this guy into a sieve.

- All right, I get three grand's worth.

I remember the days you
could get a guy hit for,

what, three bucks?

- We live in inflationary times.

- Ain't that the fucking truth?

Don't come back without him.

- You're under arrest.

- Hey, Foley, you mick, get over here.

(chuckling)

- Hey, had you, didn't I, lad?

- How you doing, Cap?

- Well, ain't it the short arm of the law?

You beat up any niggers lately?

- No, I'm sorry to say I haven't.

Have you?

How's tricks, Arthur?

- We live in inflationary fucking times.

How'd it go with Judge Capshaw?

- He told me Stephanie St. Clair

offered him 20,000 to shut you down.

- No shit?

Well, I'm flattered.

- You've got to give
that black bitch credit,

she's a wily old horse.

- So how much to top her ice?

- [Foley] Capshaw wants 40.

- He's a greedy bastard.

- Judges don't come cheap, Arthur.

- That's true.

They're the crookedest crooks around.

- With a bit of proper evidence,

he can guarantee a conviction.

- Get the policy paper?

- I'm on it.

- How about them Sulkie brothers, huh?

How do you like one of
them fucking your sister?

(scoffing)

- Well, it's better than
some I could think of.

(chuckling)

# Don't knock on my door

# And I done told you two, three times

# I don't want you no more

# I running here baby

# Because I got kind of sick

# Ain't nothing ailing my stomach

# There's something wrong with my dick

# Said dam was a cap in Georgia

# You can't stay there alone

# All the friends I had

# Done shook hands and gone #

- Mr. Johnson, Mr. Johnson,
I work at the pool hall.

I don't work for you.

I promise I'll be the fastest
runner you've ever seen.

- Queen ain't hiring no
runners right now, son,

neither am I.

Besides, ain't it past your bedtime?

- Oh, man, I'm'a close this party down.

# I told you two, three times

# I don't want no john #

(applause)

- Bumpy Johnson.

My name is Filmore, I'm Dandy's mother.

- Ma'am.

- I wish more of our colored men

would stand up and fight for their home,

the way you're doing against the Dutchman.

I heard you killed three of his men,

like the Lord swooped in
on Sodom and Gomorrah,

you swung your mighty scythe

and then heathen heads
rolled on the pavement.

- Okay.

- Boy, you a killing machine.

You know, Mr. Johnson, you something else,

I'm telling you, you
just a killing machine.

(cheering)

- Thanks, everybody.

(tense music)

Francine, Francine?

Yeah, Francine?

- Bumpy Johnson, Mr. Johnson,

you know what, I've been
singing for you a long time.

I've been trying to get a job down

at the Cotton Club for six months.

- Now look here, come down to band bill,

see my man, Calvin.

He's a clean-head man, he's down there,

he does all the hiring.

- Calvin?

- Excuse me, please, Calvin, yes.

- He's gonna take care of me?

(cheering)

- What's wrong?

(somber music)

What was I supposed to do, Francine?

Let him kill the Queen?

- You shot three people.

Don't you have any remorse?

- Remorse comes when you feel
you've done something wrong.

- You don't think killing is wrong?

- Innocent people, yes.

There have been 35
lynchings this year alone.

Depression got people
starving all over the country.

Scottsboro boys in jail for
a crime they didn't commit,

all of that is wrong.

- Yeah, I understand all that.

- But?

- But I don't understand you.

(stammering)

You're a perfect gentleman, you're a poet,

you're nice to people,
you think about things,

and then,

(sighing)

within a blink of an eye,
you can kill or be killed.

- Is there nothing in this world

that you love enough

that you would kill for it or die for it?

- I don't know.

(uplifting music)

- I'd give my left nut
for a piece of cheesecake.

Who makes the best cheesecake
in New York, Petunia's?

- Lindy's.

- Best sauerbraten?

- Luccio's.

- Triangle Huff Brow.

- Best knish?

- Greenspan's.

- Crowst.

- Best steak?

- Luger's.

- Galaca's.

- Come on, let's do some damage.

(thunder rumbling)

(tense music)

(echoing footsteps)

- I'm tired of going to
church without my man.

- Told you, Francine,

the good Lord and I have an arrangement.

I don't go into His house,
He doesn't come into mine.

- Okay, you heathen.

That's the last time I
try to save your soul.

- Ah, don't be that way, baby.

Besides, you know you're my religion.

(giggling)

Goodnight.

- Goodnight.

(tense music)

(silenced gunshot)

- Best martini?

- Store Club.

- Dave's Plural.

Much bigger.

- Best Italian?

- Patsy's.

- Loredo's.

- Best corned beef?

- Ratna's.

- Kats's.

- Best frankfurter?

- [Both] Nathan's.

(ominous music)

- Hey, hey, hey!

What the fuck you doing up here?

# Holy night #

Did you hear what I said?

# Holy night #

What the fuck you...

# Silent night #

(thunder rumbling)

(sneaky music)

(gunshot)

(shouting)

(grunting)

(punching)

(splintering)

(shattering)

(screaming)

(shattering)

(grunting)

(chuckling)

(gunshot)

(gunshot)

(thrilling music)

(soft music)

- Give me the gun.

It's all right, it's all
right, give me the gun.

It's all right, it's all right.

It's all right, it's just you and me,

it's gonna be you and me.

(sobbing)

It's all right.

- Lord have mercy,

I didn't know Josephine
Baker was working here.

Miss Baker, I thought you was in France.

Where is Pigfoot Mary?

- Give me 60 cents on 4-9.

60 cents on 4-9 straight.

- All right, I heard you.

No, you hold onto that, your
money ain't no good here.

I'm going to take care of that for you.

Oh, come on, now, Mary.

The governor pardon folks
quicker than you do.

- Mm-mm, and if you don't
quit macking me so hard,

I'm going to crush your spine.

- Woman,

now you're talking my language.

(laughing)

Now, give me some sugar, come on.

- Get out of here, you.

- That's all right, you're gonna want

to kiss me sometime later.

(giggling)

- Hello, Tiny.

Well, let's see what the good doctor

has in his little black bag.

Come on, now, give it over.

(grunting)

- Hey, what the hell
wrong with you coppers?

You ain't got no cause
to be beating up on him!

(gasping)

- Would you rather it be you?

Because we're here to serve.

- [Illinois] Please, please!

- What I thought.

All right, boys, get the bag.

- Okay!

- Well, maybe next time.

Toodle-oo.

- You okay?

Come on.

(applause)

- Merry Christmas, Merry Christmas, yeah!

- If you're complaining
now, don't fret yourself.

- What do you think you
should have done, huh?

Let that pickaxe-waving
devil just kill Bumpy?

- You done right, sweetheart.

The Lord knows there's a shortage

of eligible men in this town.

(tense music)

- Well, if it isn't Madame Queen.

- Speak your business.

- Stephanie St. Clair,
I have to inform you,

you're under arrest for violation

of city code section
1764, illegal gambling.

- You be careful, Captain.

- Likewise.

All right, boys, take her away.

(dramatic music)

- This morning, the Queen turned over

control of the bank to me.

Now, she asked me

to take every precaution available

to avoid shedding any blood.

- Well, how are we going to get people

to come back to work if we don't go

toe-to-toe with the son of a bitch?

- Yeah!

- By being smart.

By using the old idea farm.

Vallie!

- Yes, sir?

- You in charge of the policy room, right?

- [Vallie] Right.

- Okay, I want you to go to
every controller's house.

You tell them, this building is protected.

- Done.

- [Bumpy] Calvin?
- [Calvin] Yeah?

- We have to establish
new routes for the runners

when they collect the slips.

Whispers, Waldo, I want y'all

to beef up security on the premises.

- You got it, Bump.

- You know Dutch got that
cop Foley in his pocket,

and he's just as crooked as the letter S.

Now, he's gonna come
after them policy slips

the way he did me, and if he get 'em,

then you and the Queen
are going to be right back

in the joint and I know
you don't want that, so...

- That's you and me, we'll hide the slips

so none of these flatfoots can find them,

and when the number come
out at the end of the day,

we burn the slips.

- Excuse me, Mr. Johnson...

- Shut up, kid!

- Hey, hey, hey, let the kid speak.

What's on your mind, kid?

- Well, folks is confused, that's all.

I mean, all of them policy
slips is on white paper,

and if people want to play a number,

they just fill out a slip.

They don't know if they're playing

with the Queen's bank or Dutch's.

- What's your point, kid?

- Well, I think we should put
our slips on different paper.

- That's the most flum-a-dill
idea I ever heard of,

boy, you sniffin' that Shinola?

- Hold on there, Vallie, hold on.

This boy got a good idea.

What's your name?

- Tyrone, sir.

- All right, Tyrone, you're going

to change the color of
our slips to, say, green.

Waldo, I want you to go
down to the print shop.

You pick us up a bushel of green slips.

This way, everybody know
they're buying from us,

and the Queen's still carrying power.

- I know every hell in this
whole damn neighborhood,

let me run for you.

(laughing)

- All right, son, you done
came up with a good idea

for the day, let's just leave it at that.

- Yeah, run your ass around the corner.

- Laugh if you want to,

but even I know that if Dutch takes over,

that's all she wrote.

Besides, Red, you told me you started

running when you was 16.

Hell, I'm 17.
- [Illinois] Oh, no.

- Come on, Mr. Johnson, you can trust me.

- Okay, Tyrone.

But you better not frog up on me, boy.

You hear?

- No, sir.

- Well, Bumpy, you know we all with you.

You have the confidence that...

- Thats right, we're
right with you, Bumpy.

(soft music)

- It's your time, Bumpy.

(gentle music)

(gunshots)

(gunshots)

(machine gunfire)

(thrilling music)

(banging)

- You look like a fuck, what did you...

(gunshots)

(machine gunfire)

- Go to fucking hell!

(gunshot)

- I built a nice mahogany coffin,

mother of pearl inlay,
solid brass handles.

My son did a beautiful job
with the bullet wounds.

He looks like he died in his sleep.

Thank you, Mr. Johnson.

Thank heaven for Mr. Johnson.

That man has brought prosperity
back to this neighborhood.

(somber music)

You have my deepest
sympathies, Mrs. Anders.

- I scrubbed kitchen floors 20
years to give the boy a home.

- Tyrone was a fine young
man, and he died with honor.

- Honor?

He's dead, Mr. Johnson.

Where is the honor in that?

- I'm...

(spitting)

Sorry.

- People call you a hero.

You just a common thief.

You stole the only reason

I had to live.

- See that?

Every soul in Harlem played 235

because of this damn headline.

- Well, people are superstitious, Ill.

- Well, I don't know what we're
going to do after this one.

If we hit hard, this might be 80 grand.

- Now, Pigfoot told me that Dutch

changed his number to 236.

- We are not going to do that.

People play the number,

they expect to get paid when they hit.

We're just going to have to pay off.

- And that's the difference
between you and Dutch.

And that's why I love you.

- Oh, cut it out.

I sure wish I could find Miss Right.

Shit, I don't mean that, I'm
looking for Miss Right Now.

- Go on and make the pay offs, will you?

- Oh, you the boss, Bumpy, yeah,

I'm going to make the pay offs.

But you know what 235 means

in Madame Zora's dream book, don't you?

- No, what?

- Death.

- Yeah, well, when I see
him, I'm going to tell him

I changed his number for today.

- Yes, sir.

Good day, Miss Francine.

- Good day.

- Here you go, Mr. Johnson.

Enjoy.

- I love you.

What are you doing,

you know you don't even
like banana splits.

- I like your banana split.

- Hold on, hold on.

- What's wrong?

- Mr. Redmond?

- Yes, sir, Mr. Johnson?

- Do you see these almonds on my split?

- Yes, sir, Mr. Johnson, I see
them almonds on your split.

- Mr. Redmond, you know I
don't like almonds on my split.

- Yes, sir, Mr. Johnson, I know you

don't like almonds on your split.

- Did you put these almonds
on my split, Mr. Redmond?

- [Redmond] No, sir, Mr. Johnson.

- Then who did?

- Jimmy, the new boy.

- Jimmy?

Give me a few ticks.

- What's up, Bump?

- Oh, Bumpy, come on,
don't start anything.

- It's all right, Francine.

- Yeah, what can I do
for you, Mr. Johnson?

- Did Mr. Redmond tell you

I don't like almonds on my split, Jimmy?

- Oh, boy.

- Yes, he did, I must have made a mistake.

- Whoa, whoa, that's all
right, that's all right.

Just, why don't you
bring me some hot fudge?

- All right.

- See if you got any hot fudge back there.

- Bumpy, what is wrong with you?

- Nothing, Francine, I
just want to show Jimmy

the difference between a traditional split

and the way I like mine.

- Here you go...

- Have a seat there, Jimmy, have a seat.

I want to show you how to
make a traditional split,

and then I'll show you how
I like to have a split.

Now, a traditional split
has all these trimmings,

the almonds, the whipped
cream, the cherry,

and the hot fudge.

Jimmy, why don't you sample
that, tell me what you think?

- Uh, no thanks, Mr. Johnson.

I'm allergic to ice cream.

- Allergic to ice cream.

(yelping)

Sounds like to me, you're
allergic to rat poison, boy.

- Let me do him, Bumpy.

- Put the knife down now.

- Mr. Johnson, I swear I didn't know.

He said you wanted that boy to work here.

- Who said I wanted this boy to work here?

Who said I wanted this boy
to work here, Mr. Redmond?

- Vallie.

- Say it ain't so, Vallie!

- Die, motherfucker!

(shouting)

- Whispers.

- [Vallie] Pussy!
- [Bumpy] Whispers.

Bring him over here and sit him down.

Come on, sit him down.

Cal, get Vallie out of here.

- Don't breathe.

- Low-life snake, open that damn door.

Get out of here.

- Francine, go home and get some sleep.

(wheezing)

Relax, Jimmy.

- [Jimmy] Mr. Johnson...
- [Bumpy] Relax.

- Bumpy.

- He'll be okay.

- Mr. Johnson, uh...

(gasping)

- Eat.

- He said eat!

- [Jimmy] Mr. Johnson...
- [Bumpy] Eat.

Mr. Redmond.

- Yes, sir, Mr. Johnson?

- From now on, you make my split.

- Yes, sir, Mr. Johnson.

- You got me all wrong, Bumpy!

(sobbing)

- I just want to know why, Vallie.

- Dutch gave me $3,000.

You know how much money that is?

- That's a handsome ransom.

- Yes, sir.

- I promise, let me go, and I'll be

on the first smoker to
Philly tonight, I promise.

(sobbing)

- That's a nice ring, Vallie.

You get that with the
money that Dutch gave you?

- I got that from aunt Helen, Bumpy,

that ain't nothing but a dime store trick

and I had it for years.

- I ain't never seen it.

- Bumpy, please!

You's a merciful man.

So Bumpy, Bumpy, I'm begging you,

please, Bumpy, let me go,

and I promise I'll be on the
first train to Philly tonight...

- Okay, Vallie, Vallie!

(shushing)

Come on, get up.

- Bumpy, please, please, Bumpy.

- You're gonna be all right.

Yeah?

All right, go on, have a seat.

- All right, thank you, thank you, Bumpy.

Thank you, Bumpy.

- Here you go.

Go on, now, drink up.

- Thank you, Bumpy.

God bless you, Bumpy, God bless you.

(teacup rattling)

- Dirt.

- Snake.

(scoffing)

(teacup rattling)

- How you doin', Vallie?

(slicing)

("It Don't Mean a Thing"
by Duke Ellington)

(applause)

(growling)

(shrieking)

(applause)

(growling and shrieking)

(applause)

# It don't mean a thing

# If it ain't got that swing #

- If Sid Phil doesn't put
you in the front line of his

fucking chorus, I'll put his
head in a fucking meat grinder,

I swear to Christ I'll fucking do that.

- You'd do that for me?

Isn't he romantic?

- A regular Rudy Valentino.

- Hey, where's he going?

- He thinks he owns the
joint, leave it alone.

# It don't mean a thing

# If it ain't got that swing #

- Hey, look what I fucking got.

(applause)

(door crashing)

- There's no colored allowed in here.

- It's a new day, motherfucker.

(tense music)

(yelping)

- He's the guy who got
Duke to work the club.

He's probably just here
to collect his fee.

Look, you're supposed to
go to the back door to

collect the fee, what the hell
you think you're doing to me?

- Disregard the fee, only I
came to talk to the Dutchman.

- All right, you struck a
blow for the negro cause.

The first nigger to ever
make it into the Cotton Club.

Now get out!

- Do you know my man, Whispers Only?

Like you and I, he's a
big fan of Ellington.

I'm sure he would appreciate it

if you would sit down and
take it easy for a few ticks.

Dutch, that was quite a performance,

I didn't realize that your
people had such rhythm.

- How's business?

- Not bad, but let me
tell you about yours.

Your bank is at 351 Lenox Avenue.

You're running policy out of stores

on Amsterdam, St. Nick, and Madison.

I'm here to tell you you're shutting

your operations down, tomorrow.

You don't, I shut you down myself.

- Is that so?

- Oh, that's so.

- I thought all you
niggers traveled in packs.

Where's my buddy, Vallie?

- Vallie had to leave town in a hurry,

but he left something for you.

Here.

Go ahead and, pick yourself
a winner with that.

- I'm going to be sick.

- Oh, Jesus Christ.

- You've been warned.

Get ready for your final thrill.

- No, not in here, no!

No, not in the Cotton
Club, no guns in here, no!

Outside.

Get the fuck out of here.

- It's curtains, Dutch.

The jig is up.

- You're a dead fucking nigger.

You hear me?

You're dead.

You come uptown.

You come uptown!

Bring Francine with you,
I'll fuck her for you!

I heard she needs it.

I know where all your bitches living!

- Your boys

do like I say, don't you.

There's enough dynamite
in these three crates

to blow up the Brooklyn Bridge.

I've set the timer for seven minutes.

When you're making the drop,

pull the switch.

- Seven minutes and the
bomb goes off, right?

- I'm a professional, Mr. Johnson.

The question ain't what time
the bomb's going to go off,

it's whether you boys are going
to get out before it does.

Do you understand?

- Yeah, we feature what you're saying.

- Bump, how we going to set these suckers

when Dutch got all his men uptown?

- His main liquor warehouse is downtown.

He's a beer baron.

That's where he makes his longest green.

- Bumpy, you talking about going downtown

to blow this man's shit up?

Do you know what you saying?

- Too risky.

Besides, the Queen would be against it.

- The Queen ain't here, Whispers,

and while she ain't here,
I'm carrying the power.

- Okay.

- Calvin, I want you to
cover the bank, 30, 40 men.

- You got it.

- Whispers, I want you
to look after Francine.

I'm trusting you with her life.

Me and Illinois will make the drop.

- Yeah, all right,
that's good, I like that.

You know I'm with you, cousin,

from the womb to the tomb.

(upbeat music)

(tense music)

- What's the matter?

- I don't want to die, Bumpy.

- You remember when I first came up here

from South Carolina?

How scared I was, never
seen that many people

in one place in all my life,
like to scare me to death?

- I remember, Bumpy, I'm not that old.

- You remember what you said to me?

- Yeah, I told you I'd look after you

and wouldn't let nothing happen to you.

- All right, then, you
look me square in my eye

and tell me you think I'm carrying you

with me downtown this
afternoon so you can die.

- Bumpy, I know you don't
want that to happen...

- I need you, cousin, some
things a man can't do alone.

I need my man hard-down
with his boots laced up.

Are you with me?

- Okay, Bumpy.

(tense music)

Did you set that timer, cousin?

- Yeah, we got seven minutes.

You got your boots laced?

All right, all right, you
don't need no liquor, Illinois.

As long as you're with
me, you're safe, you hear?

- Okay.

We can celebrate later, right?

- What's this shit here?

- Yeast delivery.

- Yeast for the beer, sir.

- [Henchman] It's all clean.

- Take your ass on in there.

- Thank you.

(tense music)

- We've got three minutes.

- You boys are late, you're
slowing down my brewery.

Where the hell's Eugene?

- Um, he couldn't make it, sir.

- Come on, move your asses,
get the yeast on the dock.

Jesus Christ.

Come on.

- That's it, sir.

You sign on the dotted line.

- We need to be going now.

- What's wrong with you, boy?

- Nothing, boss, just a little tired,

we got all these deliveries still to make.

- I still don't understand why
Eugene couldn't make the run.

- He tells us, Eugene went out last night

and got himself just as
drunk as a fiddler's bitch.

That's when they called us, sir.

- Eugene's a fucking
Mormon, he don't drink.

- That's the problem, he got
himself kicked out the church.

(nervous chuckling)

- Hey,

where you going?

- We don't want no trouble, sir.

Like I said, we just got
all these deliveries.

- You boys stay put, I'm
going to get the boss.

Don't move.

- Yes, sir.

(thrilling music)

- Hey!

(tires squealing)

- Hit the gas!

(crashing)

(violent explosions)

(gunfire)

- Now I'll ask you one
more time, where is he?

- I don't know, I don't
know, I don't know!

- Hey, Dutch, you don't have to do that.

(sobbing)

- Hey, Bub,

toughen up a little, will you?

(cat screeching)

- [Voiceover] Hey, there,
what you doing back there?

Hey, I'm talking to you!

(kettle squealing)

- Mary?

Oh!

Mary.

Mary.

- I've got bodies

all over the front page of the Daily News.

I've got that pansy Hoover calling me,

asking if I need his help.

You put my dick in a ringer, fella.

- Dutch didn't instigate this.

- Let me explain something to you:

If one crazy negro is
provoked into coming downtown,

they'll all come.

I can't afford to have all of Harlem

crossing the line because of you.

You get this numbers thing settled,

or I will launch an investigation

into every syndicate activity
in the city of New York.

Do you get that?

You pimp.

("Torna a Surriento" by Ernesto
and Giambattista De Curtis)

(whistling)

(dramatic music)

(shrill barking)

- I thought it was about
time we meet, Mr. Johnson.

- I was honored by your invitation.

- Thank you.

A friend of mine at Sing Sing

tells me you're quite a chess player.

- You partake in the game?

- No.

Only in its strategies.

(speaking in foreign language)

Let's go for a walk.

You're in good hands, boys.

I love this place.

- I was under the impression

that you and the Dutchman were partners.

- Dutch Schultz, he doesn't recognize

that a partnership requires compromises.

I think you do.

This is about money, Mr. Johnson.

- You get a piece of my operation,

what are you prepared to offer
me in return, Mr. Luciano?

- For starters, political connections,

the kind of connections that will keep you

from suffering like Madame
Stephanie St. Clair.

A man wants to be
successful in this business,

he has to make alliances.

- You got judges?

- Even better, special prosecutor.

- Thomas Dewey?

- Yeah, he's as greedy
as the rest of them.

(gulls calling)

- I appreciate your offer
but my answer is no.

I'm strictly an independent operator.

- So be it.

But your move downtown affects me

as well as Mr. Schultz.

That was a clever gambit, Mr.
Johnson, your brewery job,

but now it means required
to discuss these problems.

- The Dutchman and I are
past the point of discussion.

- It's not a request,
I'll call you with a time.

- What can I do you for?

- This thing between you and Mr. Johnson

has gone way past bedtime.

- Lucky, why do you give a fuck

what happened to my liquor warehouse,

ain't got nothing to do with
you and your whore business.

- If Tom Dewey clamps
down, it affects all of us.

- Well, the guy Dewey's
having with rings a bell.

- Exactly, your numbers
racket has him looking

to open a panel on all our
business in New York City.

- Get me out of fucking bed for this?

What's the other news of the day?

Roosevelt running for re-election?

- Close.

I want to bring Mr. Johnson to our table.

- We do not bring that
nigger into my presence.

- We're having a sit-down, Dutch,

and we're going to settle things.

- This is your fucking strategy?

- My strategy is to keep things in order.

My responsibility is the bigger picture.

- Yeah, what if I say no?

Does Vido send his
mattress boys to my house

in the middle of the fucking night?

I warn you, Luciano, don't fuck with me.

- You've been outvoted.

- Okay, have it your way.

Bring him to the fucking table.

Shit, have him over for
fucking dinner for all I care.

Hey, Cecil, pull the fuck over.

(dramatic music)

- Where you going?

Let me buy you an ice cream.

- I'm going to the library.

I'll take out that book you been reading,

How to Fuck Friends and Irritate People.

- It look like the parole board

could let me out any day now.

- Then we'll have a celebration.

All of them down the next Saturday.

Well, you'll be happy
to know that the bank

is making more money now than ever before.

- Take possession of it back.

You will no longer work for the green.

- What are you talking about?

- You broke your promise, you lied.

- I wasn't able to keep that promise.

We had to fight for the bank,

the Dutchman wasn't going to let up.

- You are wrong.

You are not going to let up.

I can see that now.

- Look, I've been invited
to the syndicate table

by Mr. Luciano, don't
that count for nothing?

- What about life?

Doesn't life count for anything?

- You asked me

to take control of the
bank while you were gone.

I did that and kept it out
of the Dutchman's hands.

Now you want to come
back and run it with me,

I welcome you with open arms,

but we will do it together.

- So I guess you're the king, now, eh?

Long live the king.

(beeping)

- Lovey, why aren't you dressed?

I told Sam and them we
were going to meet them

over at the Sugar Cane
Club in half an hour, now.

We're having supper.

- Bumpy, I'm leaving you.

- You're leaving me?

- Yes.

- Hold on a few ticks.

(intense music)

You're going, take that with you.

And that, too.

- I don't care about your trophies.

- Oh, you don't want any?

- It was wrong for me to
take them in the first place.

- Oh, it was, was it?

You took them nevertheless, didn't you?

Take it all!

- I don't want any of this shit!

- You watch your language!

- You go to hell!

- You're playing with fire.

- You and your noble ideas,

and all your promises!

You lied to me!

- You lied to yourself, Francine,

when you left that stiff in the bathroom.

- You are just like Dutch Schultz.

You're a pig!

If it wasn't for you,
Mary would still be alive.

Yeah, I said it, you're a pig!

Oh, you gonna hit me now, huh?

Bumpy, come on.

Come on, hit me.

- Why?

Francine, you used to be...

- Well, you used to be a human being.

You used to be the man I loved.

- Please sit down.

- I, I've been sitting down too long.

I gotta go.

- Yeah, well,

don't forget your good book.

- You used to write me poetry, Ellsworth.

(somber music)

- Make sure nothing happens to her.

- I'm a police captain,
for the love of Mike.

How's it going to look if I'm seen

running around with a nigger?

- That's all the niggers I'm
going to take from you, Foley.

- What'd you say to me?

- I said, that's all the niggers

I'm going to take from you, Foley.

- That's one more than I'll take.

I don't ride with niggers in my car.

- [Bub] Fucker...
- [Dutch] Enough of this shit!

Hewlett, sit down.

Jack?

- Yes?

- We go back 15 years,

but I'll cut your head off
and drop it in the river.

- What are you doing to me?

- You want to test me?

- Hewlett, I own you.

You do as I tell you.

Now put aside your differences
for the time being.

We got a job to do.

Shake hands.

(scoffing)

Shake hands.

Nice, very nice, truce, fucking beautiful.

- Jesus Christ.

- Hey, Hewlett, why don't you take some

of this stuff home with you?

Me and Foley, we didn't even
finish the pastrami sandwiches.

- No, Dutch, that ain't necessary.

- It's just going to go
in the garbage, otherwise.

You got one of them grandkids to feed.

- It ain't necessary.

- Don't be proud.

Wrap up the scraps and take 'em home.

- Thank you, Dutch.

- It ain't nothin'.

(discordant piano playing)

- Come on, now.

- Here, here, here, take this.

- Can't you see we trying to play a game?

- A bill game.

- What I see,

you want to know what I see?

I done see more people
die in the last six months

than I have in my whole life.

Now, you leave me alone and let me go

play my song for Miss Mary.

- I understand you're
upset by Pigfoot dying...

- Mary!

That's her name.

And you don't give a
good goddamn about her,

no way, you couldn't even
come to the goddamn funeral.

- I paid my respects...

- All them funky-ass flowers
don't mean a goddamn thing,

it don't mean shit.

You should've brought
your black ass over there.

- Me walking in a church
and you carrying on

ain't going to bring Mary back, is it?

- Let me ask you something.

How many of the general's
foot soldiers got to die

before you see that they playing you

just like I'm playing
that raggedy-ass piano?

Dutch got niggers working for him.

We kill them, and it all work out

so we all just killin' each other.

- Any nigger fool enough
to work for the Dutchman

deserve to die.

- How you sound?

You think innocent people deserve to die?

Tyrone?

My Mary?

You there like you ain't
got nothing to say to me.

Let's see what Mr. Speaker got to say.

He always got a word for you.

- Illy!

- Come on, give it to
me, give it to me, huh?

- Take it easy, now.

- It's all right, set him loose.

- I wish I never gave you
that motherfucking gun.

Oh, I'm sorry, I shouldn't have cussed.

- You need to go home,
you're drunk on that Cancun.

- Yeah, you drunk on yourself.

- Illinois, don't let me raise up

and come over there and
put my hands on you.

- That's how you talk to me, now?

Huh?

You talking to me...

- I done told you,

take your drunk ass home!

- All right, then.

I'm going to do what you say.

No, Illinois, good soldier,

always do what General Bumpy say.

Let me put this on your
mind, you smoke this over.

When you're going down your
list of accomplishments,

Harlem used to be

still and silent at night.

You can thank yourself
for the way it is now.

I'm through, cousin.

You can fight this war by
your goddamned self, now.

I'm through.

I'm like Jack the Bear's brother,

can't go no further.

See?

Good, now you got two guns.

- I'm going to hold
onto this for you, bear.

- Come on.

Tell me a joke.

Come on, Illy, tell Whispers a joke.

- We the joke, Whispers.

You don't hear Dutch laughing?

(tense music)

- Hey, Tiny,

hey, Tiny, let's have a talk.

Come on over.

- Officer Foley!

(snickering)

I'm just fucking with you.

- I don't think you should do that.

- You're right, you the law.

I've been looking for you.

- Well, you see how
lucky you are, here I am.

- I've got some good news for you.

You, too.

Just want you to know that, from now on,

you won't have no more trouble
out of Illinois Gordon.

That's right, I wash
my hands, I'm through.

I'm out.

- Tiny, you have trouble learning, son?

- No, sir.

- Well, they should'a
taught you a long time ago

that once you're in, you can't get out.

They should've.

(grunting)

- Get your ass on.

Get your ass in.

- You're making it awfully
hard on yourself, son.

So I'll ask you again:

Where did you hide the policy slips?

Would you like to have a go?

- That's you.

- It is me, isn't it?

(chuckling)

That it is.

(sinister music)

- I see why Bumpy don't go to church, Bub.

- What?

- Kill

or be killed, or be killed.

- Jesus Christ, Foley.

He ain't going to talk.

Let him go.

- Oh, yes, he is.

He's gonna talk.

Sure you don't want to have a go?

- I'm gone.

- Suit yourself.

Now.

We both know you're gonna talk, don't we?

Because I will ram this
corkscrew up your nostrils

until I pop your eyeballs out.

You know I'll do it, don't you?

(sobbing)

- Okay, okay.

Okay, okay!

- You have something to
tell me, then, right?

(crying)

All right, what is it?

(mumbling)

What, what, I can't hear you.

- My cousin

is going to fuck you up
real bad for all this,

Officer Foley.

(groaning)

- The dividing line could conceivably be

135th Street, running east to west,

and Lenox Avenue, running north to south.

Mr. Schultz would take one territory,

and Mr. Johnson, the other.

- I can't accept any proposal
that allows Mr. Schultz

to continue to operate freely in Harlem.

As I said before, I have
no quarrel with any of you,

gentlemen, but if Mr. Schultz
insists on coming uptown,

I have no choice but to make
my presence felt downtown.

- Well, you realize that
such a course of action

will bring about your demise?

- Dutch been trying to
bring about my demise

for quite some time.

- I'm not Dutch.

- Yeah, you Lucky.

- You got nuts the size of watermelons.

- Dutch.

Enough with the compliments.

- Perhaps you gentlemen
need some more time

to consider my proposal.

- We ain't gotta consider a fucking thing.

Your days are numbered, if
you'll pardon the expression.

You're pretty smart for a nigger.

- Yeah, so are you.

- Well, that's good, that's good.

Insult the man who holds your
destiny between his fingers.

- So you've got some slips.

I beat the wrap, hands down.

- Oh, like the glorious
Madame Queen of policy?

My judge is sending your
black ass to fucking jail.

Jesus Christ.

- Your move.

- Bump?

- Yeah.

- Illinois was the only one besides you

who knew where them slips was hidden at.

- That don't make him a stool pigeon, Cal.

- [Whispers] Bumpy.
- [Bumpy] Yeah?

- We found him.

(soft music)

(wind gusting)

- That old brick press over there

said he saw a cop string him up.

That cop had captain's bars.

(chain rattling)

(gentle music)

(moaning)

- Oh, God, I love you, girl, oh yes.

Aye, you are so good.

- Thank you.

(chuckling)

- Hey, what you put it away for?

Come on.

You can't, what are you doing?

You can't stop...

Jesus, Mary, and Joseph.

Wait, wait, wait, wait, let
me just put my pants on...

(groaning)

(screaming)

(gunshot)

(sobbing)

(echoing footsteps)

(train rumbling)

- Hey, Bub.

You touch Illinois?

- No.

- I said, did you put
your hands on my family?

- I said, fuck no.

- You didn't do nothing
to stop it, though.

- If there's blood on my hands,
there's blood on yours, too.

You ain't no better than me.

- How you sleep at night, old man?

- How the fuck do you know I sleep at all?

- You owe me.

- You ain't no better than me!

You ain't no better than me.

(somber music)

(tense music)

(hinges squeaking)

- Sit down.

- Your man said you had a proposal.

- The Dutchman wins,

everybody in Harlem loses,

including you and me.

- Go on.

- Smoke this over.

When I went in the joint,

you ran the fiercest gang in Harlem.

I come out, you working for the Dutchman.

But everything that's been going on

for the last year and a
half, I start thinking.

How'd the Dutchman get
so high up on the map?

Because of you.

How come the Queen still got a bank?

(speaking quietly)

(gentle music)

- Why the change of heart?

- I got no choice.

Dutchman's got me boxed in,

and frankly, I need your
connections so I don't take

the fall for those policy slips
he's holding over my head.

Besides, a colored man
don't stand much of a chance

buying Tom Dewey.

- Tom Dewey'd take a
payment from an aardvark.

- I could also use your muscle

to keep the Dutchman off my back.

- You know that the terms
of a partnership now,

at this juncture, would be quite severe.

- A wise man once told me, Mr. Luciano,

that if a man wants to
succeed in this business,

he has to make alliances.

(chuckling)

- Nice.

- Should I drive around the
yard once again, Mr. Luciano?

- One more time, Cecil.

How do I get assurances

that you're going to play on the square?

- You have your accountant come

by my accountant's house
the same afternoon,

say around three o'clock.

I'll let him go over the books,

the runners, routes, slips, everything.

- You know, a funny thing about Dutch,

he's worth $3 million, easy.

You think a guy making that kind of dough

would take care and make
himself look proper,

nice clothes, good haircut.

Instead, he looks like a
vagrant half the times,

buys his suits off the
rack at Wanamakers'.

- If you don't know, you don't know.

- You know, Mr. Johnson?

- I believe I do.

(crunching)

- Then what happened?

- Mr. Luciano, he don't
think I be listening,

but I be hearing every
word they be saying,

on account I got petition, it's clicked.

- Go on.

- Bumpy Johnson, he
said he need a partner,

that would be you, for the numbers.

- And?

- Bumpy Johnson asked Mr. Luciano

to have Mr. Johnny, the fellow
that's good with figures,

to meet him this afternoon
so he can go over his books.

(crunching)

- Take the yard.

- Yes, sir.

Thank you, Mr. Schultz.

- And if you're right, there's
more where that come from.

- You won't say nothing
to Mr. Luciano, will you?

- My lips are sealed.

- Thank you, sir.

- [Dutch] And Cecil?
- [Cecil] Yes, sir?

- If you're lying, you know what

I'm going to do to you, right?

- Yes, sir, I know.

- So long as you know.

- Yes, sir.

Everybody know.

- Don't it just figure,

colored and a dago, partnered up.

Sicilians, they're
nearly niggers, anyways.

They're dark complected bastards.

- Taking on Lucky,

we're going to be in a whole lot of shit.

- What's up, Bub?

- Nothing.

- You going soft?

- I'm behind you, Dutch,

a hundred percent.

(tapping)

- Good work, Cecil, present from Bumpy.

(ominous music)

- Here we go.

- Hold it.

I can wait.

- This figures, let's go.

- Hey, Johnny, how you doing?

- Hey, Dutch, how are you doing...

(whimpering)

- You little prick.

Hey, Dennis, go back
down and watch the door.

Is this it?

- Please, please, yes.

(incessant gunfire)

(whimpering)

- Where is he?

- I don't know, Dutch.

- What's 235?

- I don't know.

- You don't know?

235.

- It means death.

- Please, Dutch, I'm only an accountant.

You let me live, I'll make sure...

- Yeah, yeah, yeah.

(gunshot)

(gunshots)

- What's our next move, Mr. Luciano?

- I got a surprise for
little Arthur Flegenheimer.

- Let's go.

(thunder rumbling)

Dewey's office, this way.

Quickly.

- I'm sure he's still
looking for Bumpy Johnson.

He wanted that 4,000 you promised.

You know,

just doesn't make sense to me.

I don't ever see that jiggaboo

making a deal with a white guy.

I mean, even if he's a Sicilian.

- Yeah, well, that's because
you're a fucking idiot.

He never had no intention.

He set me up for a war with Luciano.

And that's pretty smart for a nigger.

- Yeah.

- Well, if Luciano wants a fucking war,

I'll splatter this fucking
city with his blood.

I'm going to take a piss.

- Okay, Dutch.

(thunder rumbling)

(ominous music)

(creaking)

- What do you want, I'm fucking busy here.

(cocking)

You've gotta be fucking kidding me.

They send you.

(gunshot)

(gunshot)

(gunshot)

(thunder rumbling)

(thunder rumbling)

(sighing)

(gentle music)

- It's done.

Where's the money?

(gunshot)

(rumbling echo)

(phone ringing)

- Hello?

- I want to tell you this myself.

Bumpy Johnson just made
me a very wealthy man.

He took care of the Dutch Schultz problem,

and he used you to do it.

Not that you would have occasion to,

but if I were you, Lucky,

I'd never go to Harlem.

(chuckling)

(gentle music)

(thunder rumbling)

(heavy rainfall)

- The Dutchman is dead.

- Did Thomas Dewey get his money?

- Yes.

- Cecil get his cut?

- Yes.

Looks like the Queen has the bank back.

- That's the way it's supposed to be.

- What you gonna do, Bumpy?

- I got some unfinished
business to take care of.

What about you?

- I'm going to get some sleep.

- Thanks.

(dramatic music)

(thunder rumbling)

# How sweet

# The sound

# That saved

# A wretch

# Like me

# I once

# Was lost

# But now

# I'm found

# Was blind

# But now

# I see

# Grace

# Grace that brought

# Saved us from

# Saved us all

# Grace

# Will keep

# Me whole #

(uplifting music)

(dramatic music)

(roaring)