Original subtitles

Every once in a while, man accomplishes the impossible.

Visual confirm. Landing gear deployed.

Copy that, Columbia. The Eagle has wings.

All it takes is someone with a dream.

Godspeed, Eagle.

Because when a man dreams...

...you know what happens.

He can change the world.

All right, cut.

Okay, listen. I don't want to obstruct your process here,

but I'm looking at the script, and I'm pretty sure... Yep.

There are zero of those words in it.

True, but only because the words in the script are dog shit.

All right. Now, look. Look. Just forget the words.

Ride the truth, buddy.

You're Dr. John Carpenter, idealistic ghetto physician.

You help everybody: the poor, the sick, the hungry. You know, blah, blah, blah.

You're Jesus, mate. You're the journey.

Your journey is the journey of America.

And at some point, you make out with a nun.

Oh, and how good is that?

Yeah. Well, listen up here, rookie.

America doesn't make out with nuns.

Oh yeah? Well, that's America's loss, isn't it?

All right, listen up. We're gonna go again. And action!

What the fuck?

Oh come on, people. What's more important?

Some human buzz cuts riding a glorified firework to a rock,

or the living art that we're here making on Earth?

All right, fuck me, let's take five.

Direct from our newsroom in New York,

this is the CBS Evening News with Walter Cronkite.

The lunar module will descend to the surface in the next few hours.

The heroism of these men cannot be overstated.

Oh, will you look at that.

Hmm. Say, you ever get the feeling we could be doing something more?

- More? - Yeah.

You know, something, I don't know... bigger.

Nothing bigger than being Elvis.

I mean, look here. Right in front of us, right now,

human beings are about to land on the goddamn moon.

Ha! And what am I doing?

Well, the next scene, you teach a child about tolerance through the power of song,

which apparently makes a nun horny.

Yet somehow, not enough.

You feeling okay, boss?

Be better if I was on that space capsule.

Oh, bullshit? This is not bullshit.

This is a giant moment in history.

You know it. Right up there with your comeback TV special.

Arguably.

Hey. You promised me you'd quit that shit.

Technically speaking, boss, he said he'd quit coke every day except Tuesdays.

Ooh, cocaine Tuesdays? Love it.

It's like taco Tuesdays, but for awesome people.

Oh, goddamn it. What are you doing here?

Uh, eating, obviously.

Oh my God.

Oh, I would kill an actual human baby for, like, ten of these.

What? No, not one I know. Jesus.

So, what, is this what you do?

You just keep showing up whenever you feel like it?

Same way I got into Yale. True story.

But look, I want...

Stop. I don't even want to know why you're here.

What? I'm just a huge fan.

Well, of your movies. They're hilarious.

I mean, not the comedies, obviously.

- There's a compliment in there somewhere. - Enough. You need to go. Now.

Fine. Rude.

Uh-oh, missed a spot there. I gotcha.

Get rid of this.

Where the fuck are you getting all this coke?

Flyboy?

Oh, he's this fella selling maps to movie star houses in the parking lot.

Oh, and a shit-ton of cocaine. Probably should've led with that.

- How about you introduce me? - Now?

What about the next scene?

Okay, people. Nuns, put on your roller skates.

It can wait.

Hold up.

Set's that way, but you're heading this way. Seems like a disconnect.

Oh, just gonna step out for a bit.

Uh-huh? Then what's with the vigilante face?

What vigilante face?

The one that comes right before some godforsaken karate, gunfight, bloodbath.

Oh, you mean that vigilante face.

Come on. We're here to make a movie.

The director's setting up the next shot.

Oh, now, just relax, Miss Bertie. Heck, it's just an over-the-shoulder shot.

Bobby Ray can stand in for me.

Am I the only one who remembers how badly this can go?

Ha-ha! Hang on. Are we already filming?

Wait, is that my beer back there?

Hmm, and we're still paying for that poor boy.

Oh, relax. No kids in this movie. He'll do great.

Puerto Rican street urchins, over here, por favor. Chop-chop!

Um, I'm not actually Puerto Rican.

Yeah, well, none of you are.

That's why God invented the magic of makeup, mate.

Do you even read these scripts?

I actually try not to.

Holy shit. Fucking Elvis.

Oh man. Oh wow.

What are you, a doctor now?

Uh, let me guess. You're Flyboy?

Uh...

Does that answer your question?

- Not remotely. - All right.

So, uh, you want a star map or what?

Five buck extra gets you Paul Newman's gate code.

Tell you what, Flyboy.

I'm a lot more interested in that other shit you're selling.

- Know what I mean? - Ah.

Right, right, right. Yeah.

Check it out.

So, tell me, Flyboy,

if you're a drug dealer, how come you're dressed like a pimp?

Okay. Yeah, well, I mean, there is some overlap.

But come on, you want some of this coke or not?

More like all of it.

All of it? Oh.

Oh!

Well, guess who's an official fucking Elvis fan!

Right on, man!

All right. All right.

Now, um, I don't normally deal in bulk, but I...

- Shut up. - Uh, done.

Now, ordinarily, I'd just kick your ass for being a piece-of-shit drug dealer

who happens to be dressed like a pimp, and I'd be on my way,

but I'm having kind of a weird fucking morning.

I mean, honestly, same here.

- And I'm after bigger fish than you today. - Right.

Long story, but I'm kinda pissed off that I am not in space right now.

Yeah, that tracks. That makes sense to me.

But I can't exactly walk around without being noticed.

So, I'll need to borrow a few things.

Wow, that actually looks way better on you than it did on me, honestly.

Yeah, like nobody saw that coming.

Mission Control awaits word. The lunar...

What are you doing, Agent Ryder?

Um, nothing.

Oh good, good.

Then you have plenty of time to tell me why Elvis isn't on his Elvis movie set,

which, as you know, is extremely important to me.

Oh, fist me sideways! Where the hell'd he go?

So where are we headed?

Come on, man. You know I can't tell you that.

Because snitches end up getting fucking stitches.

Yeah, I heard somebody say that once.

But you know what's worse than stitches?

Turns out I do.

Okay. E, but baby, whatever you do, don't hurt the coat.

I actually get that.

Paging Dr. John Carpenter.

Damn it!

Uh, shouldn't you be making a movie now?

All right, look, just cut the shit, will you?

- What are you really up to? - Oh my God, paranoid. Nothing.

- Where's the trust? - Irradiated.

In a nuclear fireball back in Vegas.

Okay, so, what's this?

Sneaking out on another little vigilante kick?

Just a man standing against the tide.

Yeah, which totally works. That's why you don't see tides anymore.

It's called making a difference.

No, it's not. It's called a complete waste of time.

I know what this is really about, so let me bottom-line it for you.

No matter how many tiny little drug dealers you take down,

it won't get you to the moon today.

- You got mustard on your face. - Yes, I know.

You good with that? Walking around with mustard on your face?

Oh shit! Dr. Carpenter carries a gun?

Ooh! Plot twist.

Whoa, whoa, wait. What's the line again?

Your line is, "Yes." Fucking dipshit.

Night vision.

Oh shit. Goddamn it.

Hmm. Okay. As much as I did love the on-fire glasses,

these fuckers see through walls.

- Are you serious? - Dead serious.

And if you reverse the polarity, they'll scorch a human eyeball.

I'm talking full-on badass here.

- Bullshit. - Just ask my roommate.

But don't look her in the eyes when you do,

because they look super weird now.

Ooh!

Yes, please.

Uh, oh my. Okay, I am so moving here.

Okay, as soon as those guys move out.

Yeah, cool, but how much for the goggles?

Oh, you can't afford them. Beatles money, maybe, but not you.

Any chance your "magic goggles" can tell me

what's waiting on the other side of that door?

Where's the fun in that, dumbass?

Just hurry this up.

Dr. Carpenter has to cure an orphan's tuberculosis

by making him believe in himself.

Oh God, that script's a piece of shit.

Copy that, Houston.

And now, all we can do is wait.

As the lunar module begins to descend...

Hey, Flyboy. Back to re-up already?

Hey, that was...

Jesus.

It's quite an operation you got here. Why don't you tell me who's in charge?

Fuck you!

Try again.

I was trying to whistle, but you knocked out my tooth.

Guys! Get in here!

♪ If you're in old habits ♪

♪ Set in your old ways ♪

♪ Changes are a-comin' ♪

♪ For these are changing days ♪

♪ And if your head is in the sand ♪

♪ While things are going on ♪

♪ What you need, what you need ♪

♪ What you need is a change of habit... ♪

Shit!

You know this shit's not gonna make you feel any better, right?

Agree to disagree.

♪ When you talk with people... ♪

Okay, tough love time. No matter what you do,

it's not gonna turn you into a fucking astronaut.

I will literally pay you to stop talking.

Whoa, you sound just like my mother when I was little.

Sounds like a super lady.

She paid me in cigarettes, by the way. So, yeah, real gem.

♪ A change of outlook ♪

♪ A change of heart ♪

♪ You'll be all right... ♪

Open wide, asshole.

About to lose a lot more than that tooth.

Talk. That was way more than just local dealer coke up there.

That shipment. There's a...

Goddamn it, Scatter!

Oh man! This looks so cool through these.

Hey, it's snowing!

It's snowing!

- It's snowing! - Yay!

Yay!

Damn it, Scatter. Get back here.

- Fucking Tuesdays. - Well, look at it this way.

You know, at least you introduced a bunch of kids to the dangers of drugs

by actually giving them a ton of drugs.

Hey! You're ditching me?

Yes!

- What? - "Yes."

"Yes" to what? Me saying the line, or that's the line?

Just say it, mate. "Yes."

Okay. I mean, yes! Damn it!

Cut!

Where's Elvis?

Just, uh, stepped out to buy some cigarettes.

He doesn't smoke.

Did I say cigarettes? I meant Cadillacs.

You realize how incredibly bad you are at lying to me, right?

Sadly, I do.

What the fuck?

Oh damn, E. What the hell happened to my coat?

Different things.

Shit, man. You know how much that fucking coat costs?

Yeah, you're gonna tell me about expensive clothes.

Look here, rookie, what you need to talk about instead

is the cocaine shipment.

The same cocaine shipment somebody else was telling me about

before somebody else exploded.

Somebody fucking exploded? What the... And what shipment?

They don't tell me shit, man. Okay?

I swear.

You see that? That means Scatter doesn't like your answer.

Okay, okay, okay, okay! Just go find Big Rod. He'll know.

He's always down by Pier 4. I swear, this time for real.

I'm gonna have a bruise on my dick.

Good. And listen, Flyboy. Sorry about the coat.

What the hell are you wearing?

Ooh, long story.

Looks like you stole some pimp's clothes.

So it's not just me.

- And what are you doing? - Just dropped by to grab a few things.

You mean a bunch of guns and bullets.

Uh-huh, see, I know your I'm-out-of-ammo face when I see it.

What we need is to get you back to that set right now.

- Bobby Ray can handle it. - Wanna bet?

And action!

Now, hang on a sec. Uh...

What's my motivation?

For opening a door, you dipshit?

You want to be on the other side of the door.

It's moments like these that truly make you feel like

we're part of the tides of history.

Just quit it, will you?

I know you're bitter because you washed out of NASA.

"Full of shit"? Who, Neil Armstrong?

American heroes, each and every one.

The hopes and dreams of an entire nation rest on their shoulders.

CeCe, I noticed Elvis still isn't on the set,

with menacing emphasis on "still."

Yeah, I know. I'm working on it.

- Might want to work faster. - Yes, sir. Understood.

Funny unrelated story.

I once had to wait too long for an appetizer,

so I carved the waiter's femur into a salad fork.

Oh my God. You should have seen the look on his grandkids' faces.

And what the hell were his grandkids doing there? So many questions.

Oh good. You made it back.

So now I guess we're overcompensating for our moon-landing inadequacies.

Quit it with that crap.

Listen, I get it.

When my mom beat me in a wet T-shirt contest,

I stopped eating for three months and burned the bar down.

- Where are we headed? - There's no "we" happening here.

And you still have mustard on your face.

- Thank you for noticing me. I feel seen. - You're not getting it.

- Well, at least let me give you a ride. - No, thanks.

Oh yeah? You sure about that, big guy?

Shouldn't be long now as we await word from the valiant crew of Apollo 11

on final descent.

Come on, guys. Get it done.

Yeah, speaking of, how about we get this done

- and get you back to that set? - No, the movie can wait.

We're trying to stop a major drug shipment here.

Yeah, which there are literally thousands of every fucking day.

Where'd you score this ride, by the way?

It's pretty great, right? Company car.

- Mind if I push these buttons? - Sure.

Wait. And not get electrocuted or ejected out of my seat or some other bullshit.

Oh, then, no. No, I wouldn't touch most of those.

Uh, thank you?

He wants to know if there's any booze.

It's a high-performance, state-of-the-art intelligence-gathering asset.

It's the third button on your right.

Make that the fourth button on your right. I think.

Oh my God. You know we'll never find this guy, right?

Yep. That's why God invented dickheads with vanity plates.

Hey, buddy.

Need to have a word.

Damn it, Scatter!

The buttons are not toys!

Looks like you're all out of foot-chase clichés.

What the hell do you want?

Tell me about the drug shipment.

Shit, man, Cleopatra shipped out with that yesterday.

Cleopatra?

Kinda sick of you guys ditching me.

So where's this major big-time drug shipment anyway?

Already gone.

Oh good.

Okay. So, I guess that makes this, to quote myself,

"A complete fucking waste of..."

"...time." Damn it.

Uh, sorry. What was that you were you saying?

Something about you being completely wrong?

Nice coat.

Cover you? Wait, wait...

Fucking Tuesdays.

We need a plan, all right? They're getting away.

Here's a plan: who gives a shit?

- Cover me! - Ah, fuck.

I hate hero time.

For the record, my "Who gives a shit?" plan was way easier.

Angle down three. Ten feet.

Houston, Tranquility Base here. The Eagle has landed.

Wait for it.

For what?

You giving away my fucking car? Already checked that box.

No, I pushed all the buttons before I dove out.

That car's gonna explode all over the place.

Wait, you pushed all the buttons?

- Yeah. - Oh shit.

- What? - That just locks the doors.

But it did come with this fun little doohickey

from the Philadelphia office.

- Holy shit. - Big time.

Where'd it go?

Oh, I don't know. We haven't figured that out yet.

What's with the dumpy face?

Missed the moon landing.

All right, don't pout. I'm sure we can get them to do it again.

- What? - Just... follow me.

Come on. Is anybody out there?

Fuck that fucking monkey shoving a gun in my fucking dick.

Could this day get any fucking worse?

- Line. - You don't fucking have one!

Just stand there!

Listen, I didn't bloody well spend 12 years

getting a PhD in fucking film theory

to be thwarted by a fucking moron, mate!

Oh, I hear you. That sounds frustrating.

- Who's the moron? - Ugh!

Fuck this. I'm out of here.

Oh God, did Mary Tyler Moore just say "fuck"?

Officially love her.

Get ready to have your mind completely fucking blown.

♪ This is Ground Control to Major Tom... ♪

Jesus.

Maybe Scatter was right.

What in the hell is this?

This is history in the making.

- Who are you? - Elvis, I'd like you to meet my boss.

Ooh, been looking forward to meeting you.

Even financed that dogshit movie next door to get you here.

Had a whole thing planned too.

Drinks, snacks, chocolate volcano,

cuddles, watch the moon landing together,

but a certain somebody was a little late.

Well, yeah, thanks to his vigilante bullshit.

Also, hi, hello, I didn't know we had a chocolate volcano.

So, wait a minute.

The moon landing, our finest hour,

you faked it?

Not without help from a cinematic genius.

Say hello to Stanley Kubrick.

Problem, Stan?

Our star seems to be indisposed.

Aw, he in the can?

No. He somehow accidentally drank a Tang laced with cocaine,

and now he's coked out of his mind

on top of the building and refuses to come down.

- Damn it, Scatter. - What?

- Nothing. - Well, somebody's gotta wear the suit.

Ah.

Elvis.

Excuse me?

Hush, hush. Don't worry. You're about Neil's size.

We've already got the line recorded. You just have to look pretty.

Hang on a minute. You mean, you want me...

That's right. Be the first man on the moon.

One small step for man, one...

- Line? - "Giant leap for mankind."

Shouldn't it be small step for "a" man?

I mean, if we're gonna be grammatically correct?

- No. - You know what? Leave it.

Look, someone's gonna figure out that this isn't real.

We decide what's real.

Which this isn't.

To the world, it is.

You know how I know?

Because Walter Cronkite said so.

Hold on. Is there fucking mayo on this?

Because that would be a national tragedy.

Unless, of course, you wanna get back to the nuns next door.

That's one small step for man...

one giant leap for mankind.

♪ Ground Control to Major Tom ♪

Welcome to TCB.

♪ ...to Major Tom ♪