Original subtitles

Icould've had it easy, lazing the hours away by my pool.

Instead, here I am back in this drafty, beat up old shack,

for my daily meeting with you.

In the shade, 45s on the record player,

under the tin roof and my skivvies sticking to me.

It reminds me of the story of James and Concia.

Love was something they invented, but they paid the price.

James, 6'2", wide shouldered, the classic hunk, in person.

Jinxed from the start.

Hardly a spaceman, but a great fan of lingerie

and an occasional stuntman.

That's what brought him to Skotlett.

It was so hot the eggs fried in the fridge.

Skotlett, or nowheresville, dear audience.

Life was good there before James arrived.

How's it going? I'm looking for a guy called Bosco.

Bosco, owner of the Sam Paradiso Bar.

The man who made Skotlett.

Bosco.

Mr. Bosco to you.

Yes, sir. I'm the stuntman.

-You just get here now? -Sorry.

As the vipers say, jackals got nothing on him.

They owe him everything. James, nothing.

At least, not yet.

He turned around...

a mosquito maybe. And there, like in an old movie,

Concia, eye to eye.

The die was cast.

Next.

Concia, gentle and wild child.

When you speak the same language, make the same gestures...

How'd he learn she was Bosco's kid?

Such details matter for a jinx-collector like him.

Anyway, he found out.

I ever tell you my ideas for the CD jacket?

A sort of carnivorous plant.

I even did sketches. Lemme explain.

Wanna hear my idea for the CD jacket?

A winged bull, on fire, soaring over a red canyon.

No, better still!

A winged bull, on fire, soaring over a red canyon.

A sort of carnivorous plant.

For my CD jacket, did I tell you? I did sketches.

Like in that ad.

Concia's dream... to see her name in lights.

Panama, Rome, Acapulco...

...and Skotlett.

They'd be happy together. They already were.

But that was forgetting Bosco and his annual do,

the inimitable "Beef Pie Festival."

Barbecued beef marinated in local beer.

A chance to cash in while feting horned beasts and budding talent...

with Concia in top billing.

My hot baby says,,,

My hot baby says yeah!

When I'm thirsty, she says yeah!

When I sweat, she says yeah!

When she's meek, between my exquisite thighs,

My hot baby says yeah!

J ames's mission was simple leap over 40 oil drums...

to open the festival with a bang.

The audience, Concia's voice, her smile, her fingers,

her breasts most of all, a promise of caresses...

What was one more jinx?

I hit it, I hit it, yeah!

My hot baby says yeah!

Shit!

The news spread like wildfire.

James Battle, for that was his name,

totaled the Paradiso Bar. Things happened fast...

"Festival cancelled due to bombing." "Battle guilty."

Bosco's big chance to get him away from Concia.

Easy enough when the judge is your cousin.

James.

1 33 years in prison.

Who said happiness is knowing where your grave is?

My father, the old fool, may he rest in peace.

No, happiness is being with the one you love, or in a women's prison.

And James knew it. He packed up his jinxes and split.

W ouldn't you have done the same? For Concia?

Oh, shit!

Hey, Bosco!

Say...

would it kill you to wipe your feet?

Sorry.

Swell place! Like new!

Not a trace.

Showbiz now?

Yeah, no more hayseeds, stunts and all that crap.

I've gone refined music and culture. It's cheaper.

And it pays.

What's a "talent show"?

A talent show?

How can I put it?

It's a show, only smaller.

A show where everybody has his chance.

Your kid gonna sing?

-Got a problem with that? -Not at all.

W ell, boys, time's short and I'm a working man.

He's got news for you.

James Battle busted out of prison.

That's impossible!

I'm free as the night

I've slept with the sun

I'm a girl of the night And I wake up with the moon

Free as the stars

When night starts to fall

I Iet the veil down

By inviting in the moon

I Iike to dance in the rain

And skip between the rain drops

The drops caress my hair

And run down over my eyes

Dancing in the sunlight

and its sweet warmth

Hi, Consia.

Hi, Chief Brody!

What?

Hello.

How's my little Toby?

What's with his paw?

-What's that? -His paw!

-What's wrong with it? -That's tonight's surprise.

Tonight?

We're in the show. You ain't the only artist. Wanna see?

-No, thanks. I have loads to do. -lt'll only take two minutes!

-Okay, two minutes, then. -I promise.

No more.

-There you go! -That's gross!

Just some pus and hair. A phlegmon.

A phlegmon?

A phlegmon, but a big one.

Come on, Toby! 1, 2, 3, 4...

That's too soft, Toby! Come on, boy!

Higher, higher Toby! That's it.

It's Broadway Brody.

That must really hurt.

It did, at first, until I pulled all his teeth.

Yeah, well, I'm off.

Have a nice day, and good luck tonight.

You, too.

May the best man win!

Right.

What a jerk!

But there's a man, the bravest of guys

He Iives to Iook into my eyes

No one knows just where he Iives

Folks around here call him James,,,

Battle!

Consia.

The radio's on the blink!

What's Mozart up to?

There's 600 ft. of rotten cable!

No more rotten than your stupid, ugly mug!

You peabrain!

So, gramps? Isn't it one hell of a bar? What d'you think?

Pretty fancy, huh?

The great day is coming.

You bet it's coming. We reopen tonight.

Tonight...It's for tonight.

Drop it.

Listen, that heap better be gone by tonight.

It looks amateurish.

We'll be getting the upper crust, see?

Sure I do. Don't worry, I won't budge.

I'll be here to greet your guests, too.

Welcome to Skotlett.

"Beef pie fes"

Where's my "tival"?

Your "tival"?

The "tival" of "festival."

I wrote "beef" too big. There's no room for "festival."

Room? I'll find room on your mug to wallop you one!

-But there ain't no more room. -No more room!

What'd I do to the good Lord to be saddled with such morons?

Then do it yourself.

But there ain't no more room!

We stopped in a shitty cafeteria, we had a shitty meal,

in a shitty town, with a bunch of shitheads.

Is it far now?

I was talking to Kitty. She's sitting right next to me.

I'll let you go. Later...

Nice but dumb!

If you say so, Mr. Schitz.

First... turn at the next junction.

Second...We'll never be there on time.

She's so serious! Oh, Kitty!

Work's all very well, but make some room for pleasure.

Start with this...

Mr. Shitz, you're nuts!

-So we're nuts! Fuck it! -What do we do now?

Answer the call of adventure.

Lay off your bun, skirt and glasses,

and let the music carry you. Listen to this.

That's Alan Schitz, too.

Yesterday it was paperwork.

Today you're on your way to the congress of the year.

That's why my staff is tops.

The best training is in the field.

And I sense real potential in you.

But you have to give of yourself.

Aren't we lost? What do you think?

Watch out!

It's okay, I'm in control.

Holy shit!

Shit!

Fucking Chicanos!

My glasses...

Gotta calm down!

Where's my glasses?

It may fall around here.

-Excuse me, Miss Kitty. -Oh, Mr. Schitz!

-It's just a dent. -What's got into you?

Gotta unwind.

Eliminate those toxins.

-You pricked me! -What?

You jabbed me in the ass!

-Where's your jackknife? -What do you mean?

I don't understand.

Why do you angry?

Okay...I get it.

My snooty little Hispanic turns out to be a dirty minded alley cat.

No problemo, my piccolo slut.

It's okay with me. A little bondage in the bush?

Wanna play rough? I'll make you come.

Enough!

Where are you going?

-You can't leave me here! -Watch me!

How do I get home?

Follow the music. Walk the fat off your big ass!

Hijo de puta!

You won't get away with this.

I'll sue!

You creep!

Oh, shit!

It's not what you think. I can explain.

Thanks for the duds and grub...

Seeing your dirty mug, I took you for a gypsy.

Good thing I got my detector.

Anti scum radar.

That's handy. I'll be off.

Hang on. What's your name?

-Bob. -ln a hurry, Bob?

You in a hurry?

Not at all! Well, a little.

See, Bob, I'll tell you...

In life there are dominators and dominatees.

I'm a dominator, a predator.

-You're a dominatee trying to dominate. -Not at all!

You are! A dominatee out to dominate.

Don't try to fuck me over!

Don't try to fuck me over!

Sorry.

-What's so funny? -Nothing.

What's the joke? You laughing at me?

You laughing at her?

Laughing at my face? At my name? My name's Nagg, Peter Nagg.

Ain't nothing to joke about.

Good thing. I don't much take to humor.

Don't move, you hear?

I'll get something to calm you down. Poor clod.

Thanks for your hospitality.

Hello.

Move over. You okay, Granny?

You okay, Grandma?

Hey, Granny!

Damn it.

Granny, you okay?

Hey, Granny!

He bumped off Granny. He bumped off Granny!

Filthy bastard!

I'll kill him!

Had a breakdown?

No, I enjoy pushing my car into town.

You best get it fixed.

Okay.

I've stumbled onto an intellectual. My lucky day!

Over here, neuron!

Take a look.

Some goddamn Chicano punctured my tank.

-It's no big deal. -Yes.

If you can patch it up by tonight,

I could show my extreme generosity. Catch my drift?

-You on? -Yep.

-Good. -Yeah, but no.

-Whaddya mean, no? -I can't.

-Why not? -The Beef Pie Festival's tonight.

Fuck your Beef Pie Festival.

I'm doing an act myself.

-A what? -An act.

Of my own composition. Indian spoons!

-lndian spoons? -Lemme show you.

-That...is my car. -What?

In other words, my reason for living.

If you repeat what you just did, I'll murder you.

Got that, tooth decay?

I don't believe this.

-Hey, Boon. -Things okay?

-Good. -Yes.

What're you doing for the show?

-The spoons. -Like last year?

-That's great. -Yes.

-I added a chorus. -Makes it better.

-Yes. -Good.

It went over nice last year.

But if you sing, that will...

-A notch above. -So I hear.

-Thanks. -Don't mention it.

See you later.

Who's that?

-Here, thank you. -See you later.

-Back to us. -Okay.

You. How what?

Tell me...

You know that work of art?

-With the bike? -Consia.

-What'd you call her? -Consia.

-Consia. -Yes.

-Bosco's kid -Whose kid?

Bosco.

The owner of the bar there.

-Cute slip of a girl he's produced. -Yes.

Know what I'm gonna do?

Listen.

I'm gonna do you a favor. I'm gonna trust you.

I'll leave you the car.

-Be careful with it. -Sure.

But I can't work on it today.

-Look, we got off to a bad start. -Okay?

-Now let's be pals, okay? -W e're pals.

Take the money I gave you, and go buy yourself a tooth.

-Trust, right? -Sure.

What the hell is this?

You call that a Mexican panorama?

Are you kidding me?

Ever see a Mexican cross country skiing?

-lf he's on vacation. -No vacation for you

I don't get what you want.

The Sam Paradiso has to be more than a bar, but a trademark.

It has to suggest refinement in people's minds, see?

-So we don't sell liquor? -Sure we do, dimwit!

Take the cowboy on the cigarette pack.

He sells the idea of a man on horseback, not cigarettes.

Here it's Mexican style luxury!

Refinement and luxury in Mexico? You sure about that?

You poor drudge! Unbelievable!

-Excuse me. -I'm busy.

There must be a mistake.

Is this the Sam Paradiso Bar?

What do you want?

-I'd like a room. -No vacancy.

You sure picked your day. There'll be some racket tonight.

Don't worry about it.

Noise never kept me awake. Noise is my business.

Let me introduce myself...

Schitz. Alan Schitz.

Impresario. Latin American music my specialty.

I'll be damned! An impresario?

And a man of taste. My compliments on your efforts.

It's rare to find places so refined...

and elegant in a jerkwater in a region like this!

I quite agree.

You must've heard about my little festival.

That's just why I'm here. The Beef-Pie Fes.

-Say what? -The Beef-Pie Festival.

-I'm the one who... -Shut up and get lost!

To tell the truth, I'm here for a reason.

I'm looking for a young singer who's extremely talented,

and in whom I intend to invest a large sum of money.

I can never remember her name.

What is it? Cunt...Conshit...Conchili...

-Concia! -That's it! Know her?

-She's my daughter! -No!

I swear to God!

-What a coincidence! -lndeed!

Now that you say so, there's something in your face.

I bet she's booked solid...

Not at all! She's on tonight.

-Where? -Here, in my cabaret.

Jack, go fetch me the keys.

I'll send Concia up once she's back.

Listen, Mr. Grosco, thanks a lot.

I'll go freshen up and see you later.

Sure, Alan... You don't mind if I call you Alan?

Best buddies, sure.

Fine, Alan, have a nice shower and I'll send a meal up to you.

Good ole Alan!

You're tuned to Radio Skotlett...

You'll never believe my luck.

I feel like I've sniffed a hose full of coke. I feel great!

Sure, it's the fresh air!

Some town I've landed in!

I've run into some real numbers! Dumber than a box of rocks.

No, she's not with me.

Fire her Monday. I want her gone for good.

Dunno...Walking home, I guess.

I'll tell you about it. I'm staying.

-Hi, Daddy. -Hi, sweetie.

Know what this is?

-Know what this is? -Guacamole?

It's the start of your career. Your big break.

-Guess who's here today? -Who?

An impresario. A friend! Mr. Shitass!

From the city to see you.

No, I'm staying.

Because I landed... I'm trawling for nookie.

It's top drawer!

Go up, he wants to talk to you.

Take him up some food. It'll show you're polite.

I'm going.

I dunno, by midnight. What?

I fuck her blind and go.

Hold on! I'll call you back.

Need help?

I tripped over the mat.

The mat? Set it down, Cinderella, and scram.

-You're Concia? -Yes.

Sorry! I took you for the maid.

Please, do come in. Forgive me.

What's your company?

Schitz Records.

Sit down. Let's get acquainted.

Sounds good but I never heard of it.

It's an independent label.

So, you been doing this long?

Well, you see, actually,

I sing, I play guitar, and I make my outfits, too.

I write all my songs myself.

I listen to folks talk, I pick up odds

and ends, knit them all together, and out comes a song!

I can imagine the quality, seeing this place...

Or I get up early in a good mood, some sun, and the inspiration comes.

But that's not often. I'm a late riser.

That must be a problem, right?

There's not much to do around here.

Yes, I see.

I talk too much.

I've never met an impresario. I feel nervous.

Not at all! Just relax. You're doing just fine.

You know, an impresario is... is just a man.

-Mind if I get changed? -Yes.

-You see...Mind if get familiar? -No.

See, Concia, if I may say so, you have an interesting physique.

-Very interesting, in fact. -Thank you.

Music isn't everything.

I wanna keep my act simple...

just a stool, a guitar, and me alone in a football stadium.

-The only problem is... -No football here?

Yes.

Now that's an impresario, always a step ahead of his protege?

And I get the feeling that you and me...

are on the same wavelength, like osmosis.

-I'm boring you, mister. -Don't "mister" me.

You don't bore me, you bore right through me.

That's different. That's cute. What is it?

-That? -A birthmark?

-No, it's mud. -Mud!

I was riding motocross.

Motocross? So, you're into rock and roll.

I love it! May l?

Hear that?

What?

What?

Oh, shit!

You okay, mister?

Just fine. You can go now, I'll see you later.

Shit!

Damn it!

Man, what is that? You the mariachis? Peros Negros?

The Mexicans?

-Yes. -Yes.

I mean, Mexicans with the mustaches and cowboy boots?

-Yes. -Yes.

Where are the donkeys?

-Ja, donkeys! -Donkeys!

A problem?

It's not what I ordered... but this isn't bad at all.

You'll warm up the atmosphere a little, won't you?

-Okay. -Okay.

That's good!

-So, Shitass? -What?

The impresario, Shitass.

He's sick. Must be the drive.

But he's cool. I hope it works.

Good.

Things coming along?

These are the Mexicans.

Not a bit too blond?

They're Mexicans from the north.

That's what I ordered.

You won't be able to tell with the sombreros.

Yes.

Just fine.

-Yes. -Good.

-Okay. -Yes.

Looks like her face exploded!

Get her lD.

If she'd exploded, she'd be all over.

I'd say something sucked her face off.

Don't it look sucked off?

Who'd be sick enough to suck someone's face off?

We interrupt our program for a special news flash...

James Battle has escaped from Skotlett Penitentiary.

Oh, shit!

Slow down!

Oh, shit!

Now you can report that her head got crushed.

I'm asking you if you've seen James Battle.

Seen him around the campground?

Nope, no one!

-lf you see anything weird... -Louder.

-lf you see anything weird... -Louder!

Let us know, okay?

He's out of it.

-Brody! -What's with that jerk?

Who, me?

I won't take any of their crap!

Now what's the matter?

Don't you start!

You hungry? You're hungry.

Consia.

It's me, Alan Schitz.

You came all the way out?

Listen, I'm really sorry...

I'm afraid I made a bad impression.

I must've eaten something that didn't agree with me.

I've got such an ass ache.

Sure, I understand.

So I figured...

I'd come fetch you, and driving in we can get acquainted.

I can't hear you. Give me a minute.

Please, take your time.

Beauty knows no timetable!

Nice place here!

Yes.

Hey.

It's wild, but well kept. There are shrubs. It's got hills.

That must be a gas guzzler!

Insurance must cost a bundle.

What do you care?

Get your gorilla paws and fat ass off my hood!

Chief Brody!

And that's Toby.

You a salesman?

Do I look it? An impresario.

I figured you were in sales.

Only salesmen wear suits like that.

Some nose, eh, Toby?

Look, Liver Tumor.

If that rodent keeps pissing on my tire,

I'll gouge his eyes out!

Hear that? Keep pissing, he'll gouge your eyes out.

Telephone!

-That's it. -Drop dead, you hag.

-You okay, Mr. Schitz? -Fine, Concia.

I met your friends. They're so charming.

I love the country.

Get lost!

There! Hope I didn't take too long.

You are stunning!

Do get in.

Botticelli among the hayseeds!

Consia.

Consia.

Who's that guy? Dammit!

Oh, my God!

Got a dream, pet?

I'd love to do a musical comedy,

a movie where I'd sing songs that are a bit wacky...

and different. I'd like that.

It'd never sell.

-No? -No.

Originality is for geeks.

Poetry and crap is for the art houses.

Lots of work, no profits. My thing is mass market.

The focus is all on the product.

What product?

-You. -Me?

I can just see it... Iittle hillbilly shoots for the stars!

It'll make them weep!

People want drama, and that's what we'll give them!

-Think so? -I think.

With your talent and your body, we'll break the bank.

-You can quit singing. -That's what I like best.

You'll be too busy.

Pretty dumb logic!

There's no Nobel Prize for showbiz.

I'm talking to you about success.

I don't give a shit about music!

Listen to this.

Who's it sound like?

Barry White? Not at all!

An lndian, 60 lbs., anorexic.

He had his vocal chords butchered in a Jakarta clinic.

Meanwhile he's top of the charts, and in a rehab clinic.

The best training's in the field.

Look out!

God!

Shove over!

Take me into Skotlett.

Get a move on!

Shut up!

Shut up!

Shut up!

It's okay.

Come on.

Come on. Great.

Shit!

Toby? You there, you horror?

Brody?

-James? Glad to see you. -Hop in, fast!

So you found the little horror. Move over, Toby.

This little shit...

He bit me this morning!

You'll attract them.

-Attract who? -That!

W elcome to Paradise!

Sing, Concia, sing!

Thank you.

I'm a Iioness

And I've got stuff under my hood

My engine's revving to go

And my nerves are on edge

May I burn in hell

If I stay in this desert

I dream of a Mustang

And a cruise at sea

Come on, rev up that Mustang

Heat up the ship's boiler

I won't wait for you any Ionger

I wanna feel that horsepower

-lsn't she something? -Sure is.

It's new, it's terrific.

I'll manage everything, okay? With subsidiary rights alone...

You'll be the king of Kotslett!

I was sure of it!

They're leaving.

Now whaddya want?

-You can't stay that way. -Why not?

It's nothing.

-I cauterized it with gas. -Oh, man.

It's Toby I'm worried about. He's all nerves.

-I think it's stage fright. -Stage fright?

The Beef Pie Festival!

Where you been, James?

Consia.

Take this.

What's the bag for?

I breathe in some air

A Iittle patch of desert

A few notes of music

And the atmosphere is bucolic

I see you, my Iove,

Somewhere on the dance floor

Let's go for a spin

And while we dance

give me a kiss to a red-hot slow dance

When your hands hold on tight

to my hips around I spin

And while we dance

give me a kiss to a red-hot slow dance

When your hands hold on tight

to my hips around I spin

Can you feel my body hugging close to you?

My scent puts you to sleep

Your face in my neck

Did you enjoy this red-hot slow dance?

Do you Iike our Iips

Our tongues moving together?

You were fantastic!

Come on, Concia.

You'll go far.

Just ditch those rednecks and work with me.

Can I kiss the star?

Wait, Alan.

Champagne!

So, impresarioisn't my daughter something?

Nice going, honey!

Champagne!

Fabulous!

Stupendous!

Thank you.

Consia.

I'll make you an international star!

W e'll conquer the world!

Let's not overdo it.

Do I look like a bullshitter?

No.

You playing the romantic? Playing hard to get?

Playing the schoolmarm?

Your ass would give a priest a hard on.

See what you do to these hicks? Get a load of that ass.

Great show, ain't it?

Shit!

Brody, hold on!

-What? -The cops!

What about them? I got my Broadway Brody.

-You didn't see me. -Okay.

Shit!

What's that?

Fuck you.

Listen, sorry about your grandma.

Don't talk about Granny! Now you listen to me.

Nagg never makes the same mistake twice.

-Sorry, I can't hear you. -You'll hear me.

My God!

Oh, shit!

The time's come.

When you gotta go, you gotta go.

You die.

Quiet. Quiet.

Really one...two...three. Let's go.

Careful.

-What is this shit? -I don't know.

-Do you call them here? -No.

-I don't trust you, Battle. -And I don't trust you, Bosco.

-That won't help us. -I know.

Attaboy, Toby!

Come on, Toby! Come on.

Wait.

You okay?

This is no time for squabbling.

We gotta unite and join forces. Matt?

Thirty years. I've waited 30 years.

-Professor Kelso. -What?

Matt Kelso.

I'm here to stop the Shub Niggurat invasion.

You outta your mind?

Why the masquerade?

I was beamed down from another dimension...

to stop the Shub Niggurat's advance.

What you've just seen is only the tip of the iceberg.

If the Shub Niggurat procreate, they'll open the gates to hell.

It will be the end of life on Earth.

This won't be easy.

I'm telling you... The only way to get rid of...

Look at that jerk! Look at that moron!

One down!

What'd you do?

-I thought he was gonna... -You thought nothing!

Shut up! I got an idea.

What are we doing here?

We wait for Battle and we nab him.

-Here in the middle of nowhere? -Precisely.

When you want to trap a hare, you smoke it out of its warren.

Where will it appear? Who knows?

There are plenty of tunnels and possible escape routes.

James Battle is like a hare. Where will he pop up?

You gotta be anywhere, increase your chances of nabbing him.

Did you smoke something out?

No!

Consia.

James.

-James. -You okay?

-Yes, but what's going on? -Run for it!

Come on.

Come on

James.

Come on, come on.

Do something, Concia!

James.

Consia.

Great.

James. No!

Come on. Please. Come on.

No!

No one knows how it all ended.

Vanished, just like Concia.

I have my own theory.

Have you ever climbed Mount Bosco?

Do it at night. Take the path that starts at the well.

Follow it up to the blue spruce.

On a clear night you'll easily make out two constellations...

the Big Dipper and the Little Dipper.

I didn't remember the medium sized dipper in the middle.