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Analyze That (2002)

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I deliver perfection...|and don't brag about it! :D
How did he know about the money?
And how did he know|that Tony Cisco got popped?
We didn't find out about it|till this morning.
- I don't know.|- It was Peezee. Gotta be.
He hates your fucking guts.
- I don't know.|- What is so hard to understand here?
You said Peezee was a "mamaluke"|and couldn't be trusted.
Now all of a sudden|you got a soft spot for this guy.
- I just don't think it was him.|- Okay, I'll buy it.
If not Peezee, then who?|Who? Tell me.
I think it was you, Ducks.
You gotta be kidding.
Caesar? Caesar, you know me.
What kind of fucking idiot would|I have to be to try that with you?
- A dead fucking idiot.|- Come on, Caesar.
- This is garbage. Change the channel.|- Okay, Paul.
No. Hey!
What are you doing, asshole?
Sorry, Mr. Vitti.|Didn't mean any disrespect.
Oh, man.
- Forget about it.|- Punks.
Let them watch what they want.|I'm going to bed.
- Good night, Paul.|- Good night.
- All right, what do youse wanna watch?|- "Little Caesar"!
All right, all right.
Step out.
- Hey, Earl, what's up?|- They're transferring me.
- Did you ask to be transferred?|- Not me.
- What's up?|- I don't know.
Anyway, thanks|for looking out for me, Paul.
- I'll see you around.|- Sure.
Isaac Sobel was a man of rigorous belief|and unflinching honesty.
A patriarch with an almost biblical sense|of integrity and conviction.
A man of faith and courage,|of spirit and humor.
A rock and a tree.
A good friend who will be deeply missed.
I'd like to call on Dr. Ben Sobel,|who would like to say a few words.
It's not easy for me|to talk about my father...
...because, in a sense,|I'm talking about two people.
One is the public Isaac Sobel...
...the eminent psychotherapist...
...and popular author known to millions|of readers across the world.
The second is the private man.
My father.
And for those of you|who knew him well...
...and know our family,|well, I don't have to tell you.
He was a psychotic, mind-fucking prick.
An arrogant, ego-inflated son of a bitch.
I wish you were alive|so I could kill you. Rot in hell!
Now I'd like to call on Isaac's son,|Dr. Ben Sobel...
...who would like to say a few words.
Who the hell would have|a cell phone in here?
It's yours.|Answer it before they notice.
- Hello?|- Guess who, you fuck?
- I have to take this.|- What?
I'm sorry. It's mine.|I have to take this.
- Yes?|- I left three fucking messages.
- You don't call me back?|- This is not a good time.
Not a good time? Let me explain|something, I'm in fucking hell right now.
- This is not a good time.|- This is a very bad time. My father died.
Get off.
- I have to go.|- Don't you hang up on me, you...
- Call back.|- They're trying to kill me.
Hey, Fredo. Yeah, you, Guido.
Come over here.|I've got something to show you.
You're a dead man.
385, mess hall.
- Thanks, Lorenzo.|- Thank you.
I can't believe he's gone.
I can't believe what you said.|"Cold and withholding"?
- You had to tell everybody?|- Why didn't you swing at the casket?
I might have strayed|from my notes a little bit.
I'm grieving. It's a big loss,|and grief is a process.
Mr. And Mrs. Sobel,|your housekeeper let us in.
I'm Agent Miller,|this is Special Agent Cerrone.
Federal Bureau of Investigation.
- We'd like to ask you a few questions.|- Can I ask what this is about?
We've just come from a funeral.
We know this is a difficult time for you.|It will only take a minute.
Sure, sit down.
- Sorry about your father.|- Thank you very much.
It's very, very difficult.|I'm gonna miss him terribly.
I mean, there were issues, like there are|in any father-and-son relationship.
He wasn't a very warm man.
- Ben.|- Yeah?
Once today. Enough.
Okay. No, I'm just saying|that even so, he was a...
...great, great legs...
Dr. Sobel, you received a call|this morning from Paul Vitti.
Why would you say|that I got a call from Paul Vitti?
Because we monitor|all his phone calls from Sing Sing.
Then, yes, I did.
- That was him? On the phone?|- Yes.
- Why didn't you tell me?|- Well, talk about withholding.
- Michael.|- You told her at the drop of a hat.
Well, she's in the FBI.|She needs to know this information.
Okay, I see, and I don't.|I don't need to know these things.
No, don't tell Laura.|She can't possibly handle a phone call.
Did I say that? Did I say that?
- You folks need a minute?|- No, we're fine.
Yeah, we're phenomenal.|Listen, I'm gonna go to the kitchen.
Just two words of advice,|as one professional woman to another:
Pants suit.
She's grieving. You know, it's a process.
We were involved in some|organized-crime activity a few years ago.
I mean, I wasn't, you know, "involved".|He was involved.
But I was treating him|therapeutically at the time...
...and then some people tried to kill us.
It was really nothing.
Shortly after you two spoke, he seemed|to have some kind of breakdown.
Really? What kind of breakdown?
I think you had better go up there|and see for yourself.
I'm treating him with Thorazine.|300 milligrams, b.i.d.
Seems to keep him pretty calm.
That would keep|the Middle East pretty calm.
And he just keeps singing|"West Side Story" songs?
"Tonight". "Maria". The balcony scene.
You should get him to do|"Officer Krupke". It's really good.
- Paul?|- Maria?
Paul, it's me. Dr. Sobel.
Maria! Oh, Maria!
- Oh, my God! Thank God you've come!|- Yes.
- You've got to get me out of here!|- Okay.
- Do you promise?|- I promise.
{y:i}- Te adoro.|{y:i}- Te adoro.
This is how it's been.
He sings for a while,|then he goes completely catatonic.
And you did a neurological workup?
Yeah. No tumors, no seizures,|no sign of stroke.
If you're faking, Paul, I'm gonna know.
When I was a resident,|we used to play with the catatonics.
Well, I don't think he's faking.|I don't think he's smart enough.
Street smart, yeah...
...but we're talking about an IQ|just north of a bedroom slipper.
So if he is truly...
...catatonic, if I stuck him|with this needle...
- This is just plain saline, isn't it?|- Yeah.
Yeah. Then he shouldn't|feel a thing. Right?
That's gotta hurt.
No reaction at all.
I want to do some|neuropsychological testing, okay?
Paul, I'm gonna give you some tests|to assess your mental condition, okay?
Now, do I have your consent|to share the results of the tests?
Mommy is mad at me|because I made a boom on the rug.
- I'm gonna take that as a yes.|- Good.
Paul, I have 10 cards, each with|a picture of an inkblot on it, okay?
Here's the first card.
Now look at it,|and tell me what you see.
I see a bat.
A bat or a weasel.
- A bat or a weasel?|- Yeah.
Bat. Bat-weasel.
Do you see anything else?
Just a pussy with teeth.
- Pussy with teeth.|- Yeah.
Next card.
Excellent, Paul.
One hour and 12 minutes.
I want you to take a look at this|picture and tell me what's happening.
I think we got a picture of a guy,|nice, hardworking fella.
Comes home, sees his wife|is in bed with a midget...
...and she's been fucking him|while he's out of town.
So she's having intercourse...?
With a midget.
Very good.
It doesn't matter|who they know downtown.
Tell them they got no leverage.
- Mr. Chapin?|- Come in. Come in. All right.
- Hi, I'm Dr. Ben Sobel.|- Hi. Thanks for coming in. I appreciate it.
- My pleasure.|- So, what have we got?
Based on his symptoms and his tests,|I would call it brief psychotic disorder...
...and if it persists,|schizophreniform disorder.
And Dr. Kassam, the psychiatrist|at Sing Sing, concurs with the diagnosis.
- So he's crazy.|- Not crazy. No. At least not permanently.
In certain people, prolonged exposure|to extremely stressful situations... soldiers in combat, for instance,|or disaster victims or hostages...
...can produce a temporary|psychotic state.
- How temporary?|- A day, a week, a month...
...if the precipitating stresses|are removed.
Which means he's not gonna get better|as long as he's in the can.
He could conceivably get worse.
Right now he thinks|somebody is trying to kill him.
And he could deteriorate to the point|where he's permanently schizophrenic.
Then he's got a real problem. He goes|before the parole board in four weeks.
Would they actually release him?
Oh, yeah. I'm sure they'll want|to release a major Mafia figure...
...who's now certifiably deranged|on top of it.
Why don't they release him|to a halfway house...
...or a center where he can get|the care he needs?
Based on my earlier work with him,|I don't think he's dangerous...
...and I think he's making|a strong effort to reform himself.
...I'll tell you what I'm gonna do.
I'm gonna release him|into your custody.
Mine? Oh, no.|No, I couldn't... No. No. No.
Mr. Chapin, thank you, anyway,|but this is a very bad time for me.
- See, my father just died.|- I'm sorry.
And I'm grieving. It's a process.|And I have a bulging disk in my neck.
And I have this burning sensation|when I urinate...
- Yeah, I've had that too.|- We're redecorating. It's a nightmare.
- You wanna see him killed in prison?|- No.
Or sent to a facility|for the criminally insane?
- Of course not.|- Then he's all yours.
I told my son we couldn't have a dog.|I'm gonna bring home Paul Vitti?
I'm gonna talk|to the Bureau of Prisons...
...and get you certified|as a temporary federal institution.
I can't be an institution.|I work in the suburbs.
I handle neurotic soccer moms|and alcoholic Gentiles...
You have got 30 days to get him|into shape for his parole hearing.
That means sane, sober|and gainfully employed.
Now I'm warning you, doctor.|If he screws up in any way, if he flees...
...or if I find out this was a setup|to get him on the street...
...I will hold you totally responsible.
And you will pay dearly.
You'll be stripped of your license and|prosecuted to the full extent of the law.
Are we clear?
Do you want him or not?
- Yes.|- Good choice. We'll be in touch.
- Tony.|- Hi, how are you?
You okay?
- Doctor, sign here and here, please.|- Okay.
Okay, thank you very much.
You piece of shit! I tell you someone is|trying to kill me and you hang up on me?!
- I knew it. I knew it! You faked!|- You stuck me with a fucking needle!
- You used me to get you out of prison.|- It took you long enough.
I'm singing "West Side Story"|for three days. I'm half a fag already.
- What were you doing?|- I was in a funeral home!
What's that got to do with somebody|trying to kill me? You're my doctor!
- My father died.|- So?
With you, it's always, "Me, me, me".|He's dead, so get over it. That's life.
Are you hearing this?|Are you hearing you?
- I'm deeply sorry for your loss, okay?|- Yeah, I can see how touched you are.
- All right. Who's after you?|- You tell me.
Could be my old crew, could be|the Rigazzis, Lou the Wrench.
Lou the Wrench? Why "the Wrench"?
The guy's a maniac.|He twisted some guy's head off once.
- Off?|- Off. Totally off.
The feds are pressuring everybody.|All the families are fighting each other.
It's like the fall|of the Roman Empire. WWlll.
- What does this have to do with you?|- They knew I was getting out.
The last thing they want to do|is see me get into it.
Just explain to them that you're out of it|now and you're starting a new life.
That's a really imaginative thought.|I wish I could have thought of that.
Maybe they'd throw a party|and give me a gold watch.
What, are you kidding me?
Believe me, nobody's happy|that I'm getting out. Nobody.
- Wanna grab your stuff?|- No. Jelly's gonna pick me up in an hour.
I don't think you understand.|You're in my custody.
You stay here. Therapy every day.|You can't leave without permission.
You gotta be kidding me.
Are you coming in, or do I have|to make a phone call?
Some fucking life this is gonna be.|Get my bags.
Do you really think he's crazy?|Don't you wanna get a second opinion?
If he thinks I think he's crazy,|he's crazier than I think he is.
Locked up, he's of absolutely no use|to us.
But back on the street, Vitti has enough|juice to be a threat to both families.
It's like throwing gasoline on a fire.
- That's if he goes back to his old life.|- People like Paul Vitti don't change.
He's been a menace to society|since he was 12 years old.
- Being a criminal is all he knows.|- He'll head straight back for trouble.
Then all we have to do is sit back|and pick up the pieces.
We need to stay on Vitti.
How could you?|How could you bring him here?
That mobster in my house,|eating off of my dishes.
It's not like I had a lot of choice.
It's a new law?|You have to bring home a gangster?
He's in my custody.|I am a temporary federal institution.
- Why couldn't he just go home?|- His wife and his family are in Ohio.
Sure, yeah, everybody gets|to go to Ohio except me.
- You wanna go to Ohio?|- That's not the... Shut up!
His life was threatened.|He didn't want to endanger his family.
How thoughtful.|But it's okay to endanger our family?
I know this is a terrible imposition,|but it's not like I wanted him here.
Well, you didn't want him,|and I didn't want him, but here he is.
Here he is.
Hey, you.
- Coffee?|- What?
Somebody said something about coffee.
Yeah, that was you.|You said you wanted some.
So, what's the holdup?
Ben, why don't you make|your friend some coffee.
I'm gonna take a long bath.|And hopefully drown.
Excuse her, usually|she is a wonderful hostess...
...but she's grieving. It's a process.
Hey, doc, listen.
I got a friend coming over,|so I don't want you to be surprised.
What kind of friend?|Because if it's the Wrench, or the Pliers...
- No, it's a personal thing, you know?|- Oh, yeah?
They won't be staying late, will they?
- Are you that fucking pussy-whipped?|- I'm not...
- This has nothing to do with Laura.|- I just heard her busting your balls.
We were having a disagreement, yes.
But some conflict is normal|in a marriage.
- Or?|- Or what?
- You're pussy-whipped.|- Paul, I am not...
When the coffee's ready,|I'll be upstairs. Good night, whippy.
Forty minutes.
- How long are you gonna let them go on?|- Let them?
How much longer can they go on?
Another five minutes, I'll break it up|or I'll call the "Guinness Book of Records".
Oh, God. Oh, God.
Give me a break. She's faking.
Nobody sounds like that.
Oh, yeah.
Oh, God. Oh, God!
Come on, nobody sounds like that.
- I don't know.|- "I don't know."
- Paul, I have to talk to you.|- What's up?
- I have to talk to you.|- Talk later?
Hold on.
- Yeah?|- I have a 17-year-old son.
I'll ask her.
That's not what I'm talking about.|I need to speak to you.
Actually, I'm right in the middle|of somebody. Can't you see?
Paul, now.
And, miss, there's no smoking|in my house. Thank you.
Okay, Paul, what do you think|you're doing?
Minding my own business,|like you should be doing.
That's difficult to do with|"The Vagina Monologues" in the guest room.
I been in the can|for two and a half years.
- What am I supposed to do?|- Go to a hotel.
That's what I wanted. You said I can't.|You said it's either here or Sing Sing.
I'm not trying to punish you,|but I do have some responsibilities.
I thought you might appreciate a nice|home-cooked meal after being in prison.
Yeah, that's what I've been jerking off to|for the last 850 nights in a row.
A fucking home-cooked meal.|Tuna casserole!
- All right, Paul?|- Doc?
- The girl's gotta go.|- The girl? You know, I bet you're jealous.
Yes, I'm very...|And what might I be jealous of?
I didn't hear nothing|out of your room.
We don't think it's necessary to wake|the neighbors every time we have sex.
If you're quiet, you could do it|without even waking your wife.
Paul, that is not funny.
What is that?
I told her if I wasn't back in two minutes|to start without me. I gotta go.
- This is not a good start.|- It was for me till you knocked.
- Here, Aunt Esther.|- Thank you.
And again, I'm so sorry|we had to put you up at a hotel.
We would've loved to have you stay with|us, but we had an unexpected guest.
His father always had room for us.
- Don't say that to me.|- Shut up.
You go to hell! I am so out of here!
Go on, get out of here,|you fucking pain in the ass!
You crazy pain in the ass!|Get the fuck out of here!
Go ahead, go back to turning tricks|in Hoboken, you pain in the ass!
How's it going?
- Paul, what are you doing?|- Hey, doc.
I'm just looking for something|to eat over here. This all you got?
Who do you have to fuck|to get some bacon around here?
Not you, I hope.
He's new in town. Let's go in the office,|I'll make you a plate.
- What's in the office?|- We're gonna go to the office and talk.
Hey, doc, what's up with your family?|They tend to overreact a little.
I know. All you did was flash everybody|in the dining room.
By the look of some of them broads, they|ain't seen the old "salsicc'" for a long time.
- It's good for them.|- Good for them?
Well, when the paramedics revive my|aunt Golda, I'll be sure to ask her, okay?
Sit down.
Paul, do you mind?
I think we've seen enough of the old|"salsicc'" for one day. Thank you.
So, what are you gonna do, Paul?
I'm gonna find out|who's trying to kill me. I'm a target.
They could shoot through that window|and blow my head off. Then what?
- So I gotta deal with that.|- That would be a priority, I understand.
I'm talking about a job, work.
There's gotta be something|that you like to do.
I like hitting guys over the head|with a baseball bat. That's good.
So sporting goods.
- Yeah, exactly.|- That's interesting.
So who are you?
- Who am I?|- I wanna know how you see yourself.
I'm Paul Vitti. I'm the boss.
The boss of what? The boss of Jelly?
Because you're not the boss of me.
So, what are you the boss of?
I see what you're doing, you.|I see. I get it.
- What am I doing?|- You're pissing me off. That's what.
Look at me. I'm starting to get anxious.
It's very understandable|that you're anxious.
I mean, you spent your whole life|becoming something that you were...
...and now you can't be that anymore,|so it's scary.
I mean, if you're not|Paul Vitti "the boss", who are you?
Let me ask you this way.
When you were a kid,|what did you want to be?
- I was a kid. Who remembers that shit?|- But you had to want to be something.
- Did you want to be a baseball player?|- No.
A fireman? An astronaut.
Come on, what did you wanna be?
- It was stupid.|- It's not stupid.
- What, are you afraid to tell me?|- Yeah, I'm afraid.
So tell me. I'm not here to judge you.|What did you want to be?
There was one time|when I was about...
...maybe 6, 6 and a half, 7.|Right in there. Right in that time.
I thought that I wanted to be a...|I wanted to be a...
For a second...|You know, a little kid.
- What?|- Maybe... I was a kid, you know?
Little kid.
- Tell me.|- I wanted to be a cowboy.
- A cowboy, really?|- Would you believe that?
Well, that's interesting.
How did that start?
I was watching television|with my mother, father.
You know, we watched|those cowboy shows.
And my...
My father got me the whole outfit.
He got me a 10-gallon white hat...
...the boots, the spurs, the cap guns...
...the whole bit.
Then he took me to my uncle's farm|and led me around on this little pony.
And there was cows and all that stuff.|It was like, to me, the Wild West.
And it was all "yippee kai-ay"|and all that stuff. You happy now?
So, what happened?
- I don't know. What happened?|- Why didn't you try to be a cowboy?
I was in East Harlem. I joined|a street gang when I was 12 years old.
"Why didn't I become a cowboy?"
Something else happened when you|were 12 that was very difficult for you.
That's when your father was murdered.
Yeah, I think about it every day.
- What's that got to do with anything?|- It has a lot to do with things.
It's very interesting because your father|was the one who got you the white hat.
He was in the Mob,|but yet he wanted you to be a hero.
Yeah, he did.
Your father wanted you to have|a better life than he did.
He did, yeah.
He wanted me to go to college.|I didn't even go to high school, hardly.
That's because he had died|and he wasn't around to guide you.
See, Paul, before, you said,|"I'm Paul Vitti, the boss"...
...but when I look at you,|I see Paul Vitti the 12-year-old kid...
...who's scared and confused|with a lot of hard choices to make.
- You. You're good, you.|- No, Paul...
- You're good. You're better than good.|- It's just the beginning.
You're real good. You made me realize|I'm a little fucking kid.
That's all I wanted. I never could|figure it out with my father. That's great.
- But you have to...|- It's clear now. New choices, new things.
New beginnings. I'm ready.|I'm here, front and center. Let's go.
There's somebody that I work with.|He's a career counselor.
- He places people in jobs. He's excellent.|- I'm ready. Sign me up. I'm ready to go.
- I'm ready to jump in with both feet.|- That's great.
- I'm ready!|- Down!
That was not a good thing.
Hi, doc.
- Jelly, what are you doing here?|- Hey, doc. It's been a while.
- I thought you were in prison.|- It would appear not.
- Well, how did you get out?|- I had a new trial.
It turns out the evidence|in my first trial was, you know, tainted.
I see.
Anyway, two of the witnesses decided|not to testify, and the third guy...
...he committed suicide.
He stabbed himself in the back four times|and threw himself off a bridge.
Very unfortunate.
Good to have you back.
We're in a war, Paul.|It's not safe out there.
The Rigazzis are walking all over us.
We need you, Paul.
You know, Sally, I'm out of it.
- It's over for me. I don't do this no more.|- The family needs you.
What are you talking about?|No one did the big jobs like you.
Air France, they're still talking about it.
Paul, think about it. For me?
- I'll think about it.|- Okay.
Come on, what is this?|A fucking funeral?
You just got out of college,|for chrissakes. Let's have a party.
I'll have one drink,|and then I gotta go see the boss.
- Yeah, what?|- "Yeah, what?"
That's how you answer the door, you?|"Yeah, what?"
You got a problem with that?
- Yeah, what?|- Don't bother getting up on our account.
Paul, what a nice surprise.
- Yeah, Patti, how's it going?|- It's good.
Come here, you. Give me a kiss.
Get over here.
Come on, what did I do?|What did I do that you're mad at me?
Come on.
- How are you, Paul?|- All right.
- You missed a spot.|- You can't be too careful.
Hey, I know.|Sorry to hear about Carmine.
- He was a good man.|- Yeah, I know.
You live with someone for 21 years.|One day they pull his torso out of a river.
- It's hard.|- Yeah, I'll bet.
Especially since the talk was|that you were the one that put him there.
- That's why I try not to gossip. It's ugly.|- Yeah, it is.
Just a sec. Michelle, Theresa, it's 10:30.|Stop fucking around! Get ready for ballet!
It's so hard being a single parent|and a career woman.
For instance, a lot of people|are saying now that you're out...
...that you're gonna try|and take the family from me.
I said, "No, Paul would|never do that to me."
- Never. Not me.|- Good.
So you look good.|What, have you been working out?
Yeah, I been working out who's been|trying to kill me. Got any ideas?
It's a dog-eat-dog world out there.
And you know nobody will be safe unless|we end this thing with the Rigazzis.
- So you had nothing to do with it?|- Paul, calm down, okay?
I did not try and kill you. All right?
Look, I want us to be friends, you know?
Who knows?
Maybe we'll be more than friends.
You wanna lick my beaters?
Patti, let's get serious.
I wanna be left alone, okay?
I'm not doing anything,|I'm just taking care of my own self...
...which is what I should|always be doing, and that's it.
- Sure, I understand, okay?|- You understand?
I do. I understand. Relax.|Sit down, I'll make you a cup of coffee.
No, I gotta go. I got a business thing|with some guy.
If you get something going, we'd expect|some kind of consideration. A little taste.
- This is a legitimate thing. It's different.|- You gave me a chill.
Yeah, well, you'll get over it.
Give me a kiss.|Come on, give me a kiss, you.
- Take care of yourself, huh?|- You too.
All right.
- Don't be a stranger, Paul.|- Yeah, I'll see you around.
Watch him like a hawk.
It would break my heart, but if he steps|out of line, shoot him in the head.
It'll be my pleasure.
Look at the size of that trunk.|You could put three bodies in there.
Just kidding.|Just trying to levitate the situation.
- Okay, thank you. We appreciate it.|- Sure.
- What kind of car youse drive, anyway?|- It's a Lexus 430 LS.
That's like a Toyota.
- It's a Lexus.|- Yeah, Toyota, Lexus, same thing.
Japanese, right?|Let's not forget Pearl Harbor.
Anyway, let's get serious.|You wanna buy this car, or what?
- We have to think about it.|- What's to think about?
You told me you liked it. You asked me|10,000 questions. I answered every one.
You drove it. You love it.|What more do you need to know?
You know, it's a lot of money,|and we need time to consider it.
Consider it?|Why don't you consider this.
You been breaking my balls for an hour...
...asking me about|every goddamn accessory in this car.
- "What about the light?"|- You cannot talk to customers like that.
You're not a customer|as far as I'm concerned.
- You want to buy the car or not?|- Not from you. I wanna see the manager.
You wanna see the manager?|I'll show you the manager.
- Here's the manager. Right here.|- Unbelievable.
- Come on.|- Wanna talk to him?
What should I do?|Throw them out!
You hear him? He just said,|"Throw them out."
What should they get?|Tell them to get a Honda!
Hey, he just said it. He's the boss.
So tell me, how was your first day?
Good. Good. Good.
That's great, Paul. That's great.|Did you sell any cars?
6:45, okay.
- Paul, thanks for everything.|- We have been waiting here 20 minutes.
I only got two hands, left and right.|I can slap you with either one.
Now get out of here.|You're a pain in the ass. Come on.
- Mr. Torre. Mr. Torre. Let him through.|- Hey, Paul. Glad you're out.
- How are you? My son Michael.|- Hey, Michael, nice to meet you.
- I wanted to ask you something.|- Yeah?
You think the Yankees|are gonna go all the way?
- We'll do our best.|- It would be very important to me.
Very important.
- Try.|- I'll talk to the team.
- Go eat.|- Joe, good to see you.
- Welcome back.|- Thank you, Charlie.
Hey, Paul.
- Hey, Joey.|- How are you? I heard you was out.
- Yeah, well, you know...|- The table for six isn't ready.
I'm gonna take the four now.
When Mr. Arnold comes in|bring him right back.
So, what are you doing?|You working here?
You know, I'm on parole.|I gotta be a good boy, you know?
I got a piece of the joint.|So, what am I going to do? I gotta...
I get it. We're gonna|have a drink at the bar.
- All right, okay. I'll see you, Joe.|- Nice to meet you.
Big smiles, everybody.
Thanks, Paul. Appreciate it.
Hey, can you get us a Pelligrino,|round of drinks...
...and more bread|when you get a chance? Thanks.
- You want more bread?|- Yeah. Bread.
There you go.
I'll get your drinks now.
This stone is supposed to be a G color.|It looks a little yellow, doesn't it?
That's the fluorescent light.
It makes everything look yellow.
No, I thought fluorescent light|makes everything look blue.
What am I, Edison? It's the|fluorescent light doing that. That's a G.
Well, maybe.
Look from that angle.
What do you think?
I don't...
I don't know.
- It's a little...|- Yeah.
Could we look at it with a lens?|That might help us out.
Do you have a lens?
We just asked for a lens.
- Where do you think you're going?|- Where am I going?
The orphanage found my real parents.|I'm going to Jelly's house.
No, you're not. You're in my custody.|And we have therapy to do.
For what? The more we talk, the worse|I get. Look at me. I'm a fucking wreck.
- I had that dream again.|- The one where you're Mussolini?
No, the other one.|You know, I'm 16, you're Freud.
And then I'm scared out of my mind...
...and these giants are coming at me|with guns. And I'm fighting them off.
{y:i}Too bad.
- The limp-sword dream?|- Yeah.
- I probably shouldn't be listening to this.|- Well, then don't.
Let's talk about it.
And you don't think this dream is sexual?
You're thinking the sword is my cock,|I can't get it up. That ain't it.
Because I was with Sheila last night,|I had a hard-on you could swing from.
- I don't need to know that.|- You could hang wet towels on this one.
Congratulations. It's a nice thing to have.
- He's built like a racehorse in that area.|- Thank you. I get it.
- I've seen it.|- Hey, wait in the car, you.
- So, what does it mean?|- Sex can mean a lot of things.
I think, in this case,|it's about performance anxiety.
You're under a lot of pressure.
You're changing your life,|you're trying to find a job that fits you.
Doc, nothing is gonna fit though.|This 9 to 5 bullshit?
Forget about it. I'll fucking kill myself.
You know they take taxes out|of your paycheck? What the fuck is that?
Like, I'm doomed.
I'll wind up selling hot dogs|on the street.
Take a deep breath, Paul.
- I mean, my heart's beating like a rabbit!|- Just relax. You're hyperventilating.
That's all it is.|Here, breathe into this bag.
And breathe in and then breathe out.|In, out.
- This is your fault.|- Excuse me?
- This is all your fault.|- My fault?
You tell me to get a job like|I'm a fucking nobody. It's humiliating.
Really? Is it? You know what,|I'm doing the best that I can. All right?
If it's not appreciated,|or if my best isn't good enough for you...
...then find somebody else to talk to,|you selfish son of a bitch!
Because I didn't ask to be born!
What the hell is that about?
I'm sorry. I'm grieving. It's a process.
All right, I'm the patient. That's enough.
Now what are you taking?
Echinacea, goldenseal.
Immune system.|There's a lot of plants and ticks.
Do you know the television show|"Little Caesar"?
Yeah, I know it.
The producer of the show|is a man named Raoul Berman.
A mutual friend told him I know you,|so Mr. Berman called me this morning...
...and said he would like to meet you.|- For what?
I don't know. Why don't|you meet him and find out?
We just got him out of our house.|Now we're having dinner with him?
- That's not very professional, is it?|- It's social.
He's meeting a television producer|who could give him a job.
He's very nervous about it, and he|asked me to buffer. I'm here to buffer.
He's a grown man.|Why does he need a chaperone?
He doesn't. He needs a buffer. That's|me. I'm here in a buffering capacity.
If you say "buffer" one more time...
331, they're all inside.|We're gonna go eat something.
We'll be back before they finish dinner.
Didn't you just take two of those?
Did I? That was the other... The Chinese|herb enzyme thing. This is different.
Just don't drink anything.
Drink? Honey, I'm a doctor,|I know what I'm doing.
I adore this place.|It is the best sushi in town.
Yeah, it smells good.
Did you try the yellowtail, Paul?
They got any real food around here?|I mean, this is like eating fucking bait.
Raoul, what's very interesting about Paul|is that he was born without a filter.
He has no filter. He says whatever comes|through his mind. He never edits himself.
- What's with you?|- What do you mean?
- You sound like a fucking retard.|- I took a pill. I took an ibuprofen pill.
I probably shouldn't|have had the mai tai or the sake.
It interacted, and it's giving me a little|problem with my upper lip. That's all.
- It will be gone in about an hour.|- Will you shut the fuck up?
See that?|He just told me to shut the fuck up!
I love it! I absolutely love it.
In two seconds, I'm gonna stick|this fork in your fucking eye.
He will stick a fucking fork in my eye!|What did I tell you?
Could I get another one of these, please?
Me too. I'd like a cosmopolitan.
- No. No. No.|- Why not?
- The buffer has had too much.|- Okay.
Mr. Berman, I love your show.
Thank you.
And Anthony Bella,|the guy that plays Nicky Caesar?
He grew up in Bensonhurst, right next|door to my cousin's friend's husband.
I hate to bust your bubble, but there's|no way he's from Bensonhurst.
He's, like, a professional Italian|from Connecticut or someplace.
Listen, Paul, I have to ask, would you be|interested in working on "Little Caesar"... a consultant and technical advisor,|you know, coaching the actors?
Making sure the dialogue rings true.
- Yeah, whatever.|- Oh, my God! This is so exciting!
How about a toast?|A toast to Paul and "Little Caesar".
That restaurant was really good.
I liked it up until the attempted whacking.
Now, is that the right terminology,|Mafia shrink?
Do you know you were muttering and|drooling like one of your relatives?
What are those pills?|What are you taking?
You know, at this point,|anything I can get my hands on.
Okay? Because I am staring|into a big hole that I can't fill up.
You don't need this. You don't need|this Paul Vitti thing in your life right now.
Especially not right now.
I think you need to be grieving|for your father.
You know, it's just, I'm finding|the whole thing just a little confusing.
You know, I became a therapist...
...because he was a therapist.|I mean, it was that easy.
Because his approval was so important|to me. I mean, it was everything.
And I never really got it.
So now I'm thinking, is this...?
Is this the reason I did it?
And now that he's gone,|do I still wanna do this?
Because I don't know.
Come here, baby.
I just want you to be happy.
Hey, pal.
- I'll ask once. Who are you working for?|- I'm working for your mother.
- Fuck you.|- Fuck me?
Yeah. No, no, no, wait, wait!|Stop! Wait! Wait!
- Stop!|- Who are you working for?
Get me up! Stop! Get me up!
Drop him.
I'm working for Lou the Wrench. Rigazzi.
- The Wrench?|- Yeah, the Wrench.
- How do you spell his name?|- I don't know how. R-I-Z-A-Z-Z...
Can't even spell his fucking name right,|you fucking moron.
Pull him up.
What's the matter with you?
You said drop him.
- I said pull him back up.|- That ain't what I heard.
Then you heard|what you wanted to hear.
I guess you got me there.
What the hell happened to you?
Vitti threw me off a roof.
Vitti? You talked to Vitti?
Yeah, I talked to Vitti.
- What did you say to him?|- Nothing.
- You sure you didn't tell him anything?|- I didn't say anything, Mr. Rigazzi.
Can I go now? I think my leg's broken.
That must hurt, huh?|Wait a minute.
I have something for that.
I hate to see people in pain.
Get him out of here.
What about Vitti?
He's a hard man to kill.
But he's not immortal.
Our time will come.
- Okay, roll film.|- Background.
Hey, I like my sausage burnt.
I don't know how you like your sausage?|I been doing this 20 fucking years.
- You got the money?|- I almost got it.
I'm still light 15 large.|But don't worry about it, I got it covered.
All I gotta...
All I gotta...
Cut! Cut! Can you do something|about the goddamn smoke?
Can you do something|about the damn smoke?
This is the trouble|with shooting on location...
...although it's worth it|for the authenticity.
Well, it looks authentic.
Hey, Tony!
Anthony Bella, Nicky Caesar.
- This is Paul Vitti.|- You don't have to tell me who he is.
- It's a pleasure to meet you, mate.|- Hey, mate.
I don't believe this. An English guy.
- You ain't even Italian.|- Australian-ltalian.
- There's a lot of "paisans" down under.|- Down under what?
- You like to laugh, don't you?|- It's a nervous defense mechanism.
I don't have to do it if it bothers you.|So I'll just...
So, Paul, are you gonna join us?
I'm thinking I might.|I like the whole setup here.
Sensational, mate. I can't wait to work|with you. I got a lot of questions for you.
- All right, mate.|- All right.
- Can we get this fucking shot?|- Yes, yes.
Paul, thank you. And welcome.
Welcome aboard.
Couple of things.
I don't know who makes|these decisions...
...but there are things that|I see that don't look right.
Yes, I sensed this myself.
Which elements strike you as wrong?
Well, the people, mainly. I mean,|you got a boss who speaks Australian.
- What the fuck is that about?|- Not my first choice.
- And your background is what?|- Theater, mostly.
That figures. I got some people|I could bring around...
...that will add a certain authenticity|to the whole thing.
I would be eternally grateful|to you if you could.
Is there anything else|that you would need?
I'd like one of those trailers|like the stars got.
Done! Done! I am gonna go|put that in the works right now.
- Hey, Paul. You really gonna do this?|- Yeah, I'm really gonna do this.
Are you out of your fucking mind? I'm|going nuts already with this job thing.
In a week, I'll fucking kill|this Raoul or I'll kill myself.
This is just a good cover till I figure out|what I'm gonna do. But call the guys.
- You know, there's a line here.|- Yeah, it's in back of me.
Take the chicken and the two pastas.
You must be a teamster.|Youse don't stop eating.
"Tell me why I'd give a shit|about your wife's cousin?"
- No, no good.|- It's not good?
What about this line? "Stevie Wonder|sees more shit than you do!"
- No. Never.|- It's not good?
"How much does the chosen snitch|want for this?"
- No?|- No.
- It's no good.|- No good.
That's it. That's...|That's the end of the scene.
- There's no dialogue in the scene.|- You're better off.
Get in the car.
- We going to the prom?|- Shut up and get in the car.
I know.
Sit down.
Careful. The eggs are on the bottom.
- Oh, yeah?|- Yeah.
You the shrink taking care of Paul Vitti?
- Yes, I am.|- So is he nuts, or what?
I'm sorry, I don't discuss|my patients' cases with anyone.
Discuss it.
He's suffering from a chronic anxiety,|and...
And what?
Antisocial personality disorder.
I'm getting a fucking headache here.|What are you trying to say?
He has a criminal temperament.
He's a criminal?
This is news?
And for that you need a doctor degree?
What do you do for him?
I try to get him to see|the possibility of change.
You do not want him to change.
That's Mrs. LoPresti.
Patti, I'm Ben Sobel.
Paul Vitti is very important to this family.
We don't want to see you|turning him into a "stromboni".
"Stromboni"? The thing they clean|the ice with at the hockey games?
That's a Zamboni, asshole. "Stromboni".
It's a bull with his balls cut off.
- No, we don't want to see that happen.|- Not unless you want to be one too.
No, I'm very attached to my balls.
As you can probably tell.
Then do the right thing. Understand?
Yes. Yes, I do.
No hard feelings.
No, and probably never again.
We're gonna need a grapple or a crane.|Fifty-foot boom, at least.
I seen one in Bayonne,|but I'll call around.
All right, see what you can do.
And we're gonna need a city bus.|Anybody got ideas about that?
I got a guy in the Transit Authority.|He owes me big.
- Let me know when you want me to call.|- Hello, Paul.
- Hey. How you doing?|- Hi, guys. How are you?
- Patti, how you doing?|- Good. Everyone's gone Hollywood.
Excuse me. This is a closed set.|We're about to start shooting.
Yeah? So am I. Let's walk. Come on.
- I heard you had some more trouble.|- Lou the Wrench took a shot at me.
I don't have to tell you, Paul. Alone on|the streets, you don't stand a chance.
That's what the family is all about.
Since the old days when|the grandfathers first came over.
It's not something you walk away from.
When you're a Jet,|you're a Jet all the way.
- What?|- Nothing.
So you wanna tell me what's going on?
I see you have your whole crew|back together.
Nothing's going on. They're actors now.
Don't bullshit me, Paul.
I know you're planning something,|and I'm feeling left out.
All right. All right, I'll tell you.|Something's going down.
You'll get your end.
Just let us do what we gotta do.|It'll be fine.
You're a good friend. I would never|insist on something like this...
...but I'd feel better if you'd bring Eddie|and a couple of my guys in... know, to help you with the job.
Eddie "Yeah, what?"
- He's a good man.|- He's a fucking jerk-off.
He's young. He's got a lot to learn.
What is this, crime school?|This is a serious thing we're doing here.
Check him out. Talk to Frankie Brush.|Talk to Jackie the Jew.
He's worked jobs with them before.|They'll vouch for him.
Paul, please. For me.
He does what I tell him, stays out of the|way, and he keeps his mouth shut.
All right. Fine. Thanks, Paul.|I really appreciate this.
Oh, God. Dear God.
Look, sweetheart...
Sweetheart, first of all...
...we're not shooting the hooker scene|until tomorrow.
And the hair, please, what is it?|Something from the cliché store?
Raoul. This is a friend of mine.
Patti. This is Patti Lo. This is Raoul.
Patti Lo...?
Patti LoPresti?
I am so very, very sorry.
How dare you not inform me|that Mrs. LoPresti is on the set today!
You are fired! Get out!
That is why I'm...|Please, enjoy your visit with us.
And if there is anything at all|that I can do...
Go fuck yourself.
Immediately. Immediately.
He's from the theater.
- Should I wait here, Mr. Rigazzi?|- Pull the car up your ass and wait there.
Get over your hurt feelings, okay?
Tell me. Was she angry?|Am I in danger?
Don't worry about it. I just wouldn't start|my car for a few weeks if I were you.
I'll have Brian do it. He's new.
Hey, Paul.
Hey, Lou.
This is Lou Rigazzi, Lou the Wrench.
The Wrench?
Brian? Sorry.
Start my car!
Come on, I wanna talk to you.
The guy who shot at you,|he was acting on his own.
- I never gave the order.|- Yeah?
He's been taken care of.|There won't be another incident.
Unless you're thinking|of working for Patti Lo.
Me? No.
Good. Then I got no beef with you.
Good, I can sleep better.
Let me tell you,|because that's not the way to go.
You wanna back a winner,|which is gonna be me, okay?
It only makes sense.
So you come work for me.|I'll treat you right.
No, thanks.
So much for sleeping better.
You be careful.
Listen, Jelly, you just pick numbers.
- You know why? It's an open race.|- Jelly.
- Hey, doc! How you doing?|- How you doing?
How are you?|How are you, Yo-Yo?
Mo-Mo, right. I was thinking|of the cellist.
Jelly, where's Paul?
He's in his camper.
Doc, what are you doing here?
What am I doing here?|What are you doing here?
I came to tell you you had a meeting with|your parole officer, and who do I see?
Patti LoPresti!
Patti who?
Stop lying to me.|Your whole gang is here.
Who says I'm lying? I get a straight|job, I start getting my life together...
...and you start accusing me?|That's how much you trust me?
Paul, it's not that I don't trust you.|It's just that I don't trust you.
This is what's so hard|about being an ex-con.
You make one mistake|and nobody lets you forget it.
So now you're the victim?|Paul, I want the truth.
Wait a second.
- Say that again.|- Say what?
- What you just said. "I want the truth."|- I want the truth.
- No, strong, like before.|- Paul, I want the truth!
That's it. That's good.
- What?|- I'm serious, that had power.
- I believed you. You could be an actor.|- Paul, I am not an actor.
You're better than the bums here.
- There's this part you could do.|- I can't. We have this meeting.
We're shooting now. There's this part,|you could do it. I'm telling you, it's you.
I did do "Music Man" in high school.|People thought I was quite good.
Jelly, what are you...?
Help! Help!
Hey, help me!
I don't wanna do this!
- Does that screaming sound real to you?|- Yeah, that sounds pretty real to me.
That was not funny at all. There was|no harness. They could've dropped me.
If you didn't wanna do it,|you should've said.
You said a scene on the roof.|I didn't know they would throw me off.
They didn't throw you off.|They hung you over the side. That's it.
I know what you're doing. You're upset|that I have custody of you... you passive-aggressively|make me look like a fool.
Come on. You were great.|You were great.
Second take, I thought,|was better than the first.
Jelly wasn't giving me much, honestly.|So I...
Screw you, Paul.|Oh, boy. Oh, boy. That's it. Okay.
- What, are you self-medicating again?|- No.
Don't give me that decongestant,|multivitamin shit.
- Come on, what are you doing?|- Ginkgo biloba. Helps my memory...
...and I forget what else.|But don't worry about me.
Worry about what you're gonna say|to this parole officer.
I mean, what are you gonna tell him?|That you left my house?
That you got your gang back together?|For what, a high-school dropout reunion?
- You recognize that car?|- Which car?
The one that's been following us|for the last few miles.
That? Oh, yeah. I know that car. That's a|Mercedes S500. That's a sweet machine.
It's an eight bore.|It comes in a 12, which is a beast.
- Lose them.|- What?
- Lose them.|- What?
- Lose them!|- Lose that car? You can't...
I'm gonna stop, Paul.|This could be the FBI.
The FBI is two cars back.|You gotta be more observant. Left.
I'm pulling over.|They won't shoot us. It's daylight.
Broad daylight is the best time.|They can see better. Right!
We gotta stop. This is a lease.
Hey, it's a goddamn lease!
- Move over. I'll drive.|- Move over where?
- Get in the back seat. Back seat!|- Damn seat belt.
Get over!
- Buckle up, doc.|- It's gonna get worse?
It ain't gonna get better.
Stop it!
Oh, my God.
You think they'll get out?
Yeah, that's James Bond and that|"Sea Hunt" guy, so they got a good shot.
- I feel bad. Where are you going?|- I gotta take care of this.
- Paul, your parole officer...|- Send him my regards.
- Paul, I'm warning you. If you leave...|- So long, doc.
That's it. You're on your own now, pal.|That's it. I'm done.
So where is he, doctor?
I wish I knew.
Since I released him into your custody,|that's not the answer I was looking for.
He's got something in the works.|Care to tell me what you know?
I don't know anything.
I really feel he's making|an effort to go straight.
- Oh, yeah?|- Yes.
That's why we got two corpses|in the bottom of the river?
Vitti with Sal Masiello.
Vitti with Patti LoPresti.|Vitti with Eddie De Vol.
Let me know.|I can order you some wallet-size.
I am giving you 24 hours|to find him and deliver him to me.
Otherwise, you're looking at obstruction|of justice and accessory to manslaughter.
- Can I go?|- Sure, but you can't take your car.
We're impounding it as evidence.
- Can I get a ride?|- Have a nice day.
I don't got a lot of time.
They're gonna come looking for me,|so we'll go over everything at the club.
Not that I'm questioning or anything, but|what do we need with this Eddie De Vol?
The guy is like a petty larceny scumbag.
Hey, I ain't happy about it either. But|if he keeps Patti off my back, so be it.
- Yeah?|- Mr. Vitti?
- Mr. Bella asked to meet you in makeup.|- Can't. Gotta go.
- It's important.|- I'll talk to him tomorrow.
Here, here.|Tell him you never saw me, okay?
- Paul, excellent, mate. Come here.|- I can't talk right now, mate.
I've gotta ask you a question.|Two seconds? Come on.
- I gotta...|- Come on.
- Can we do it later?|- Please. It's important.
I'm looking for something to do when my|character finds out he's being indicted.
And I was thinking of punching the wall.
But I did that when they killed|Uncle Lenny, and I punched a car...
...actually, it was a van, when Peezee|screwed up the big drug-deal.
So I'm looking|for something different this time.
Something that doesn't involve,|you know, punching anything.
Kick something. Let me know|how it works out. I gotta go.
Paul, wait.|That's really interesting.
- Kick what?|- I don't know. Kick a guy in the face.
- Who?|- Anybody, just some guy.
Knock him down, give him a|couple shots in the head and walk away.
- Why?|- Why not?
You're pissed, he's there.|I got friends waiting for me.
My character wouldn't do that.|What else you got?
- I don't know. You could yell real loud.|- Yell real loud?
That's really original.
Shut your fucking mouth.|I don't care what you do. I gotta go.
Shut your fucking mouth.|I don't care what you do. I gotta go.
- What'd you say?|- What'd you say?
- Wait. What are you doing?|- Wait. What are you doing?
- You can cut that shit out right now.|- You can cut that shit out right now.
That was bloody great!
My character could do that.
Thank you.
Jelly? Where's Paul?
Michael. What are you doing?
I'm working for Mr. Vitti.|Yeah, I'm his driver now.
Oh, no. No. No. No, Michael,|you are not doing that. Sorry.
- You keep telling me to get a job.|- Making sandwiches at the Subway...
...not driving a getaway car.
No "Dad" about this. He should have|spoken to me before he spoke to you.
All right. Where is he?
I cannot give you that information.
You cannot give me that information?
Look, I promised not to repeat anything|I heard in the car, okay? I took an oath.
You took an oath?|Was there blood involved?
What...? What happened?|Where were you?
I'll tell you the truth. I was involved|in a high-speed car chase.
- What?|- My car was totally shot out...
...and the men who were|chasing us probably drowned.
- Oh, my God!|- It's not as bad as it sounds.
- When is this all gonna end?|- Tonight. I just have to find him.
Why? A few days ago you weren't even|sure you wanted to be a therapist.
Honey, I have to finish this.|I have to. Understand?
- Go. Just don't get shot.|- Okay.
- Please.|- All right.
- Hey, Clemenza. Where is he?|- I can't.
You are gonna tell your father...
...or so help me God, I'll kick|the ever-loving shit out of you.
Little Darlings, okay?|It's a club in Queens.
- Give me the keys to the car.|- I'm responsible for the Town Car.
- Give me the fucking keys!|- Take my car.
- Okay.|- Here.
Thank you. Bye.
Excuse me.
Excuse me.
- Hey, doc, what are you doing here?|- Where's Paul?
- I think she likes you.|- I have to talk to Paul.
Man, give her a few dollars.
Hi. I only have a 20,|so could I get change?
Ten, five, singles would be great.|Thank you.
Thank you very much for giving me this.
Thank you.
Listen, this is my meter money,|I don't have any more bills, so...
Where's Jelly?
What are you doing?
What do you mean? Blowing off|a little steam. What's the big deal?
Here he is.
- How's it going, Paulie?|- It's going all right.
You know my guys?|Enormous Bobby and Al Pacino?
Al Pacino? That's your real name?
No. They call me that|because I look like Al Pacino.
- The actor.|- Anybody ever call you Carol Burnett?
Because you look as much like|Carol Burnett as you do Al Pacino.
- What are you looking at?|- I actually see it.
It's, like, right through here,|it's just very much Pacino.
So we're all here?
- We're all here.|- Then let's do this, all right?
- Let's do what?|- Let's go.
- Let's do what?|- Let's go.
You're not telling me something.
You're not telling me something.|I want to know what's going on.
- I'm not leaving till you tell me...|- Get out of here. You're gonna get hurt.
Okay, this is big.
We only got one shot, and there's|a million ways this thing can go wrong... everybody listen carefully.
{y:i}The Federal Gold Depository|{y:i}in downtown Manhattan.
{y:i}Three times a year, a shipment of gold|{y:i}bars goes in a guarded armored truck...
{y:i}... from the depository to a vault|{y:i}in the Federal Reserve...
{y:i}... to hold for foreign governments|{y:i}that trade in gold bullion.
{y:i}Three o'clock in the morning,|{y:i}about eight hours from now...
...we're gonna hijack that truck.
All right, everybody look at the map.|This is where we're gonna be.
- What the fuck is this?|- He was listening by the door.
- Hi, guys.|- Get rid of him.
- Hi, Carol.|- You're a dead man, asshole.
Put the gun down.|Put the fucking gun down!
Put the fucking gun down, okay?
- What are you doing?|- What do you think?
- He can make every guy in this room.|- Keep your hands off him. He's with me.
Yeah? What, on the job?
- Starting that "yeah, what?" shit again?|- Either he's in or he's dead. Which is it?
I think in is better.|If I had a vote, I would vote in.
- He's in. He's my responsibility.|- Okay.
No more surprises. And from this|moment on, no one leaves my sight.
Got it?
Here, try this on.
- Is this bulletproof?|- You better hope so.
See if it fits under your shirt.
I could fit you under my shirt.|Got anything smaller?
What are we, a Bloomingdale's?
Nobody knew you were coming down.|You're lucky to be alive, you know.
We're all gonna be lucky to be alive.|This plan is crazy. It's stupid.
Hey, hey, watch it.
Crazy, but not stupid.|You wanna stay alive?
Do everything I tell you, keep your mouth|shut, and try not to pee your pants.
- Can you handle an M-16?|- You mean shoot it?
No, twirl it like a fucking baton.
- AK?|- No.
- Kalashnikov?|- Jelly.
Stop me when something hits your fancy.
Well, can't I just use that?
Yeah. This brings back fond memories.
- Use it in good health.|- Thanks.
Cold. Cold.
- Check everything in there.|- Talk to the doc, I think he's caving in.
- You okay?|- Yeah, I'm great.
I'll try to get you out before|the shit goes down.
- Just don't flip out on me, okay?|- Right.
{y:i}Here they come.
Big, big mistake.
{y:i}- They're here.|- Go. Go! Go! Go!
Are you fucking kidding me?
Move the truck!
Where you going?
It's a setup!
Everybody get down, watch the walls!|Watch the walls and the gates!
On my command,|get the drivers back in the trucks.
You're gonna take the rear.|I'm gonna take the point.
We're gonna back|these fuckers out of here.
- What the fuck?|- They're lifting the truck!
They're lifting the fucking truck!
Son of a bitch!
Hold on!
Hold on, Harold! Hold on!
Going over.
You have got to be fucking kidding me!
Hang on!
It's not too late.|You don't have to do this.
Let's go. Let's go.
What a day for my balls.
Open the fucking door.
- Where's the keys?|- We don't have the keys.
They've got the keys at the bank.
Keep your fucking head down.
Get over here!
Move. Get the fuck in there.
Here we go.
Take the gate. You guys take the gate.|Get the wall. Climb the wall.
On the wall, guys. Get up on the wall!
Get the gate! Move. Move. Move.
Break through the gate.
Get the ramp.
You know, this might just fucking work.
Go! Go! Go! Get over the wall.|Come on.
10-13, shots fired.|Need some backup.
10-13, shots fired. Shots fired.
Move! Move! Move! Over the wall!
- Get over the goddamn wall!|- You get over the fucking wall!
Fifty bars. Fifty bars is all we need.|Fifty bars.
- Let's go.|- How much is that?
350 an ounce, 16 ounces to a pound,|90 pounds to a bar. Do the math.
- 22,995,000.|- What?
Give or take.
Hit it again!
They're breaking down the door.
Bobby, move up the Payloaders.|Move them up.
So much for not peeing in my pants.
- That's 50.|- All right, pack it up.
- Come on. Let's go.|- Let's get out of here.
We're moving out.|We're moving out.
Paul, remember what you said|about not flipping out?
- Yeah.|- Sorry. What have I done?
I had a perfect life,|and I threw it away!
I'm going to prison. That'll be bad.|I have delicate features.
- I'm small. I'm gonna be popular.|- You gotta calm down!
- I can't calm down. I'm gonna die.|- Calm down!
- I can't breathe! I'm suffocating!|- Listen. Relax.
- Get a hold of yourself!|- I can't! We're gonna die!
- We're not gonna die.|- We are! We're all gonna die!
- You feel better now?|- This is all my fault.
I wanted to be there for you.|I really wanted to help you.
I want... But I couldn't|because I'm not good enough.
Ever since my father died, I lost my way.|I didn't think this would hit me this hard.
But, Paul, now I know how you felt|when your father was killed.
We don't have time for this.
- But it's...|- I'm telling you.
- Don't do this.|- It was 10 times worse for you.
- Don't do this.|- He was killed right in front of you.
- You were just a little kid.|- Don't go there.
- But it's so sad.|- Don't go there. I'm telling you...
- All of his dreams for you died with him.|- There I go. You happy now?
- He loved you, Paul. He really loved you.|- I know he did, and I loved him too.
- Loved him too.|- I know. I know.
Oh, boy, this is bad.
How's the heist going?
Did you really think|you were gonna live through this?
- Yeah. I had my hopes.|- Well, nice work.
- Mr. Rigazzi will be very grateful.|- I thought he worked for Patti LoPresti.
Patti thought so too, but he played|both sides against the middle.
There's only one side|as far as I'm concerned: Mine.
What did you think?|I was gonna stand by...
...and let some fucking broken-down|valise like you move back in?
So long, Mr. Vitti.
I can't take it anymore!
That's what I hate|about you fucking sociopaths!
You keep changing the rules|to suit yourselves!
Well, not this time, you antisocial,|misfit piece of shit!
This time|you fucked with the wrong shrink!
You want a fresh one?
This session is over.
Son of a bitch. Ram it!
Take them up and leave them there.
- Nice going. Good plan.|- Shut up.
- Bye.|- Yeah, what?
What's a sociopath?
I don't know.
- Somebody!|- Come on, help us out here.
Come on! This way! Come on!
- They're getting away! Come on.|- Let's go!
Drop your guns!
Drop your guns!
Drop your fucking guns!
Drop your weapons, now!
- Who the hell is this?|- Cut. Cut. Cut! What the hell is going on?
Drop your fucking guns. Nobody move!
Raoul! Look, if you're gonna|change the script, you have to tell us.
Who are these people?|What are they doing in my shot?
- What are you doing on my street?|- I have a permit!
- Take it and stick it up your ass!|- Oh, my friend.
Release traffic, please. Release traffic.
This is like a bloody Chinese fire drill...
- You are in trouble. You are in trouble!|- You are gonna be in federal prison!
Prison? You think I'm powerless?
- Enough. I'm going back to my trailer.|- No, you've gotta stay.
- Move these cars, goddamn you!|- You, please be quiet. I'm trying to think.
- Is there a problem, officer?|- Keep your hands where I can see them.
That's it, we're screwed.|We are so screwed.
- You're one tough shrink.|- All right.
- Feeling pretty good, huh?|- Yeah, I'm feeling pretty good.
What are you thinking?|I mean, what's next?
Do you go on the run|for the rest of your life?
Do you just go back to Sing Sing?|Or maybe they find you dead in an alley?
- How does this work now?|- Those are my choices?
Hey, doc. Can't you let me enjoy this|for five fucking minutes?
- Must you always be a fucking killjoy?|- Five minutes?
- Five minutes.|- Okay. Five minutes.
- And then what?|- And then what?
- And then you'll see what.|- I'll see.
{y:i}WWEN news time, 8:06.|{y:i}Seventy-two degrees.
{y:i}A quick resolution to last night's|{y:i}spectacular armored-car hijacking.
{y:i}FBI agents, acting on a tip|{y:i}from an unnamed source...
{y:i}... raided the Rigazzi Plumbing Company|{y:i}early this morning...
{y:i}... and recovered the 50 gold bars|{y:i}stolen in the daring robbery.
{y:i}Arrested in the raid were reputed crime|{y:i}family boss Louis "the Wrench" Rigazzi...
{y:i}... and 11 other high-ranking|{y:i}Rigazzi family associates.
{y:i}The rest of the stolen bullion|{y:i}was recovered at the crime scene...
{y:i}... along with three high-flying hijackers|{y:i}apparently stranded...
{y:i}Organized crime|{y:i}has been dealt a serious blow...
{y:i}... and I'm happy to report to the people|{y:i}of New York and to the entire nation...
{y:i}... that this great city is today|{y:i}a safer place to live and work.
Hey, doc.
- Did you see Patti?|- Yeah. I saw her.
- You gonna be okay?|- Yeah. It's okay.
- She's glad the Wrench's out of the way.|- Good. I spoke to the U.S. Attorney.
- What did he say?|- He's happy about the gold...
...and he said he won't come after you.|But you gotta stay out of trouble.
Fuck him.
So one big happy ending, right?
- You gotta admit you feel better.|- Yeah. I feel better. Sure.
Twenty million down the drain.|Why shouldn't I feel better?
- You're grieving, Paul. It's a process.|- It's a process, I know.
It's not easy. But you gotta know|you did the right thing.
You too, doc.
- You hung in there. It took a lot of balls.|- I did what I had to.
You were a monster.|I seen the beast in you.
- A lot of misplaced aggression, that's all.|- Listen.
I'm gonna send you after people|that I don't like.
Give them a little psychology,|then beat them up.
I wanna thank you, doc.
- You don't have to thank me, Paul.|- You helped me out a lot.
- You're good, you.|- No, I'm okay.
No, no, no. You're very, very good.
You got a gift, my friend.|I'm telling you, you got a gift.
All right, I have a gift.
All right.
- Okay. Okay, doc.|- Thanks.
- Yeah.|- Take it easy.
- I'll see you.|- All right.
Hey, doc.
When I was a resident, we used to|actually play with the catatonics.
Just to have a little fun,|it's just so dreary.
Okay, let's just... Okay.
When I was a resident at Downstate...
...we used to play with the catatonics,|just for a few laughs.
I'm not hurting you.
- Sorry.|- Marker.
You told her at the drop of a hat.
She's with the FBI.|She needs this information.
I see. And I don't need this information.|Okay.
No. No. Why? Why tell Paula? She|couldn't possibly handle a phone call.
But your name's not Paula.
- Who am I?|- Laura.
- Hey, you.|- Coffee?
- What?|- Somebody said something about coffee.
Yeah. That was you.|You said you wanted some.
{y:i}- So, what's the holdup?|- I know.
I'm taking a long time.|I'm taking my moment.
You also took mine.
Here you go. Thank you very much.
Hey, Michael.
If I could only get out of this car!
Come on. Who would you...?|Who are we kidding?
- You hated your father.|- I didn't hate my father.
- No, I loved him.|- You hated your father.
You hated him. You fucking hated him.|What the fuck we talking about?
- All right. I got it. I'll stop.|- Good, that was good.
{y:i}- Yeah. I can see how touched you are.|- Yeah, I can see how touched...
- That's my line.|- That's your line.
What am I doing here?|What are you doing here?
I came here to tell you|that you have a preliminary...
- Come back and try again.|- I will.
Preliminary meeting. Preliminary meeting.
You have a preliminary meeting|with your parole officer.
Fuck you. Fuck you. It's "preliminary".
I'm from the Bronx,|and it's 4:00 in the morning.
Come in.
Hey, doc, what are you doing here?
- Preliminary.|- Yeah, preliminary.
Come in.
- No.|- All right.
A marker.
You know who was always|a favorite of mine?
The late, great Groucho Marx.
Because he would put stuff on his,|on his...
He would draw them in on his eyebrows|and then...
"That's the most ridiculous thing|I've heard." He would do stuff like that.
Hey, look.|I'm the sheriff of the undersea club.
Salute me, I'm Captain Midnight.
Ultimately, it's just sad.
That's what I've been jerking off to|the last 850 nights, a home-cooked meal.
Yeah, like a nice fucking lamb chop.
A nice home-cooked meal. Like...
- Let me think of a good one.|- A tuna casserole?
Help me.
I just wanted to see it again.
- We still going?|- We're good? We'll beat it to death.
All right. That was great.|I think we can move on.
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