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Come on! Put it to the floor!
Come on! Let's go!
Go, go, go, go.
Here we go.
Pull over. Pull over!
Slow down, slow down.
Open up!
Defender of the nation,|I bid thee a fond farewell.
Make a million.|Make a million, buddy.
Mike. Lookee there. Look at that.
Look at that.|You see that city out there, kid?
See that big town? One day, we're|gonna own that town, you and me.
What do you think of that?
Smart kid.
Uncle Pat. Be careful|or you'll throw that back out again.
Don't worry. I can handle it.|So, home from the wars?
How are you?
Fine. Servicing all the widows|in the neighbourhood.
Same old Uncle Pat.
Flat beer from rusty pipes.|If you only knew how I missed it.
You've changed, but they|didn't beat the wise guy out of you.
- No chance of that.|- I saved the apartment for you.
Sublet it to two yuppies|who loved your mother's furniture.
They said it was quaint.
I remember the day|they came to repossess it.
Yeah, well.|So, what are you gonna do now?
Make a million.
Meanwhile, I'll ask McDougal|to give you a job.
No way.
It was good enough|for your old man.
So was arthritis.
He supported a family,|like you'll have to do.
No. Not me.|I am not falling into that trap.
Every man wakes up one morning|with a wife and kids.
Where did they come from?|They weren't there before.
That's 'cause most things in life,|good and bad, just happen to you.
I'll make things happen for me.
Sure you will.|That's a buck for the beer.
What? Your nephew comes home
from serving his country,|and doesn't even rate a free beer?
You don't get rich|giving things away.
How do you get rich?
I'll give you your first lesson,|on the house.
I've been here 25 years,|never bought a drink. Right, Eddie?
Yeah, I can testify to that.
In 1969,|the Mets won the World Series.
Eddie starts pounding on the bar,|demanding a round on the house.
"Drinks for everybody," he says.|Tell him what I did, Eddie.
He whacked me with a club. Almost|knocked the eye out of my head.
That's how you make money?
You outwork, outthink, outscheme and|outmanoeuvre. You make no friends.
Trust nobody. And make sure|you're the smartest guy in the room
when the subject of money comes up.
I don't know, Uncle Pat. It doesn't|sound like too much fun to me.
Fun? You want fun,|you go play at the beach.
- I think I'll try the city first.|- Well, here.
- This will get you there in style.|- $10. Uncle Pat!
Buy Eddie a binge on me.
Eddie,|you got to be quicker than that.
I've always wanted to work|on Wall Street. I read the "Journal".
- I'll do what it takes to succeed.|- All our professionals have degrees.
I catch on quick.
- You're wasting your time.|- No.
- We're not interested.|- Guy like you? Advertising.
I have a feel for advertising.
I can tell what's wrong with an ad.
Mr Flanagan,|we need solid credentials.
- A marketing degree is prerequisite.|- Try the networks.
In the army,|I worked in communications.
We need someone|who can hit the ground running.
- Sorry.|- Maybe in six or eight months.
- Pursue other avenues.|- You should re-enlist.
I believe in positive thinking.|Never quit. Never say die.
I want to be part of the team.|What do you think?
Your résumé is completely inadequate.
- I'll start at the bottom.|- You're aiming too high.
- I'll do anything.|- You don't have experience.
I need a job.
- We value education.|- We require a degree.
Go to college.
- Bar's closed, pal.|- I'm looking for the manager.
What's wrong?|Find a hair in your quiche?
No. I'm looking for a job.
I see. You want to put a hair|in somebody else's quiche.
Just get canned?
I'm looking for something better.
Coughlin's Law. Anything else|is always something better.
Coughlin's Law?
Douglas Coughlin. Logical negativist.
Flourished in the last part|of the 20th century,
propounded a set of laws that|the world ignored, to its detriment.
- Ever work behind a bar?|- My uncle's in the business.
You know how to make|a Red Eye, Mr...?
Brian Flanagan. No. I'm sorry.|I haven't had the pleasure as yet.
What about a vodka martini|with a Pernod float?
I'm a fast learner.
Ever throw a 400lb psychopath|out of a bar?
Guess I could if I had to.
Or a 100lb ballerina|who's been speeding for three days?
Just open the door and let her|pirouette out in the street?
These are some of the tasks|you'll be asked to perform.
This is the Upper East Side,|the saloon capital of the world.
Are you ready for the big time,|young Mr Flanagan?
I think I can handle it.
- Get your act together!|- Vodka and Rose's.
Come on! I got four people waiting.|I'm not going back with three drinks.
I know. It's coming.
Absolut on the rocks, Gilbey's|and tonic and a Velvet Hammer.
- I didn't order that.|- A Molson and a Cuba Libre.
- What was that?|- A Molson and a Cuba Libre.
If you want to sit in the water,|go to Coney Island.
- You want me to bite the top off?|- This has got recipes.
Orderina! Cuba Libre!
- Can I have a glass of water?|- He can't make it.
- Where's my Jim Beam on the rocks?|- Coming.
I'm not leaving|till I get my Cuba Libre.
Excuse me, could I have an Orgasm?
This isn't what I ordered.
You bitch! Why didn't you just|tell me it was a rum and Coke?
Can I have what I ordered?
- An Angel Tit.|- A white wine.
- Pink Squirrel.|- A Friar Tuck.
- A Dingaling.|- A white wine.
- Pink Squirrel!|- Angel Tit!
- Dirty Mother!|- Can I have what I ordered?
- What was it that you ordered?|- A Martini.
What's in that?
- You get 10% from the waitresses.|- I don't deserve it.
You schmuck,|you get money from girls every day?
- I'm sorry I called you a bitch.|- Why? I am a bitch.
- Got yourself a new disciple?|- Goodnight, my beautiful.
Anyone that can get money|out of her is a major talent.
Come back next Thursday.|I've got five shifts open.
You're offering me a job?
The waitresses hate me.
Wait until you've given them crabs.|Then you'll really know hatred.
Today, we'll discuss the demand|for money by focusing
on the money multiplier.
We add increases in currency|along the whole system,
which gives|the sum of an infinite series.
Adding together increases|in currency and deposits
they add up to one plus CU|over CU plus RE.
That, simply stated, is|the money multiplier. Now, moving on.
The essential technique|of bartending.
Less is more. The less you pour,|the more you score.
The boss does better, we do better.
And the customer?
Think of him as a hurdler thinks|of a hurdle. A means to an end.
We dazzle him with ice work,|we baffle him with bottle work.
There are many ways to fool|a customer. The short pour.
The long pour.
The ice mountain, the spring thaw,|the speed-rack shuffle, the hot shot.
You will learn them all.
Yes, Obi-Wan.
Both hands, ladies, come on.
Ready? One, two, three, let go!
- What does it mean?|- What does it mean? Nothing!
Nothing? Alright!
- Very sophisticated, man.|- What a good jolt!
You got it going.
Let's go with the drinks.|I'm making money tonight.
Let's make some money for a change.
- Catch!|- Thank you.
I guess that's what you learn|in college, right?
Don't forget my beers, Bri.
Missed me!
The name of the game is woman.|Little darlings come in here panting,
their hearts pitter-patting for the|handsome, all-knowing bartender.
In their wake, slobbering geeks|with one hand on their crotches
and the other hand on their wallets.
You get the women, you get the|bucks. And boy, you've got them.
Buttons were popping,|skirts were rising.
When you can see the colour of their|panties, you know you've got talent.
Stick with me, son.|I'll make you a star.
Thanks, but I gotta be honest.|This is just a part-time gig for me.
I'm in the business programme,|City College.
A seeker of wisdom and truth.
You couldn't find a better|work-study programme than here.
- To a future leader of America.|- I'll stick with the brew.
Beer is for breakfast here.|Drink or be gone.
I realise I've got a class
of budding capitalists here,
that most of you are seeking|the fast-track, lovely term,
to a career in investment banking, or|some other socially useful pursuit.
Nevertheless, certain antiquated|skills, such as reading and writing,
remain a part of the curriculum.
So, for your first assignment, I want|you to write your own obituaries.
Not that I wish you were dead.|At least not yet, anyway.
"Brian Flanagan."
"Senator Brian Fla...|Billionaire governor Brian Flanagan
whose self-propelled meteoric rise|to wealth and fame
would have made|even JD Rockefeller envious,...
..died early yesterday morning|at the age of 99,
while bedding his 18-year-old|seventh wife, Heidi,
who is recovering from exhaustion
and will be unable|to attend the funeral."
For your mid-term paper,
I want you to select a business|in which you are interested
and to prepare a complete plan|for its development.
You should include capitalisation,|administrative costs,
income prospectus, marketing,|cost analysis.
Blue shirt, fifth row, wake up!
Light dawns on Marble Head.
Where was I?
I have got serious fuck-me eyes|coming over here.
Stay in formation. Her old man's|coming in right behind her.
Brian? The bottle.
Brian? Try and make it|by closing, will you?
I'm doing the best I can, OK?
Sexual frustration.
I asked you to prepare a business|plan, a seemingly simple assignment,
and yet one word describes|your papers. Bankrupt!
A word some of you|will know well in the future.
Like Mr Ron LeMaster.|Where is Ronnie LeMaster?
Yes, our cosmetics magnate|who hopes to make his fortune
selling make-up for pets.
Fetch, Ronnie, fetch. Good boy.
And my own personal favourite,|Mrs Sheila Rivkin.
Oh, my God, he's got my paper.
Mrs Rivkin has spent 20 years|burning her husband's dinners,
but now wants to become the|Donald Trump of the cookie business.
You.|You have something to contribute?
I said it wasn't worth|getting upset about.
What's your name?
- Brian Flanagan.|- Speak up. Let the class hear you.
- Brian Flanagan.|- Yes, Mr Flanagan. Let us see.
Yes, Mr Flanagan is determined|to revolutionise the bar business,
by franchising his version|of the local New York tavern
to every suburban shopping mall|in America.
Tell me, Mr Flanagan, do you intend|to provide the smell of stale beer?
Or perhaps a surly bartender and|three boring drunks to each outfit?
I don't know.|Are you looking for another job?
A diamond in the rough.|The dreamer who can't take criticism.
Not from a guy who hides here 'cause|he can't hack it in the real world.
OK, Flanagan,
let's see how well you hack it in the|real world with an F in this course.
Not a goddamn thing|any one of those professors says
makes a difference on the street.
If you know that,|you're ready to graduate.
Maybe I'm just too old|to be a student.
I've got to find something to do.
Relax. You're in the perfect job.
There's no better way to make it|than behind three feet of mahogany.
Within a square mile is the greatest|concentration of wealth in the world.
Yes, but how is a bartender|going to get his hands on any of it?
A bartender is the aristocrat|of the working class.
He can make all kinds of moves|if he's smart.
There are investors out there.|There are angels. There are suckers.
There are rich women|with nothing to do with their money.
You can stand in here and be struck|by lightning. I've seen it happen.
- Shall I continue?|- Oh, please do.
Chantilly lace|And a pretty face
And a ponytail just hanging down
A wiggle in her walk|and a giggle in her talk
Makes the world go round
Ain't nothing in the world|like a big-eyed girl
To make me act so funny|Make me spend my money
Feel real loose|Like a real live goose
Oh, baby, that's what I like
It's not dignified to get this drunk.
- You are in training.|- I'm in training.
- For stardom.|- For stardom.
However liberated this world becomes,
a man will always be judged on the|amount of alcohol he can consume.
And a woman will be impressed,|whether she likes it or not.
- Come on.|- I'm not gonna make it.
You are. A star never pukes|or passes out in public.
Holy shit!
Are you OK?
You alive?
However,|falling down stairs is allowed.
- Sure you don't want a slice?|- For breakfast? You're joking.
- It's better than a Red Eye.|- Not for a hangover.
Coughlin's diet:|cocktails and dreams.
That's not a bad name for a joint.
We should think about|setting up our own place.
That takes money.
The kind of money your sacred books|dangle, but never deliver.
They deliver.|You just got to know how to read.
Come on, we could make a fortune.
That's why you came to New York|and why I left Queens.
Positive thinking.
You can't let a little thing|like cash stand in our way.
- Cocktails & Dreams.|- Cocktails & Dreams.
I see it in pink neon.|Blink-blink, dinkety-blink.
That is a little corny, isn't it?|But I can live with it.
Yes, but can I live|with young Flanagan?
Well,|maybe I could handle a partner.
Alright! 50-50.
A partner who knows his place.|70-30.
You have your pension to think about,|so I will settle for 60-40.
To health and friendship.
Life and love.
- Our future.|- To our future.
Let's do it. Let's really do it.
Listen,|why the fuck are two stars like you
wasting your talent in this hole?
- A secret admirer.|- I'm serious.
I got the hottest saloon in town.
I want you working for me.|In two weeks you'll be famous.
I've been famous for ten years.|Just give me the money.
I am the world's first yuppie poet.
Bullshit! Bullshit!
The poem is entitled|"The Bottom Line".
Stick it in your Volvo!
"Money isn't everything, they say."
"OK, so what is? Sex?"
It's better than sushi!
"Did you ever make love|to a pauper?"
- "Pee-ugh."|- I'd rather hump a camel!
"Revolution? It takes money to|overthrow the government, you know."
- That's deep.|- "Art?"
"The more it costs, the better it is.|And that's the bottom line."
- Who wants a drink?|- Who wants a drink?
More poets! More poets! More poets!
We want more!
- You like poets?|- Yes, we do!
You want poets?
I am the world's last barman poet.
- Alright!|- Give us a kiss, you sexy beast!
I see America drinking|the fabulous cocktails I make
America's getting stinking|on something I stir or shake
The Sex On The Beach
The schnapps made from peach
The Velvet Hammer|The Alabama Slammer
I make things with juice and froth
The Pink Squirrel|The Three-Toed Sloth
I make drinks so sweet and snazzy
The Ice Tea|The Kamikaze
The Orgasm
Hands off the merchandise.
The Death Spasm
The Singapore Sling|The Dingaling
America, you're just devoted|to every flavour I've got
But if you want to get loaded,|why don't you just order a shot?
Bar's open.
I'd like to try the Orgasm, please.
How many would you like?
- Multiple.|- Multiple?
Then why don't we start|with the Turquoise Blue?
Oh, my God.
That was fantastic! That was great!
- Let me take your picture.|- What for?
One day,|I'll put you in Rolling Stone.
- Is that right?|- My protégé.
That's great. Can you move aside,|though? I can't fit you both in.
Excuse me.
I got to go.
- Tuesday night?|- Tuesday? I'm working.
I'll sit at the end of the bar. Isn't|that what bartenders' girlfriends do?
- Bye.|- Get in. You'll catch pneumonia.
Get out. Get out of there.
Get up, damn it. Get up.
- God, look at that clown. Get up.|- Good night, sweet prince.
- Looks like one of our customers.|- That bum just cost me 50 bucks.
So what's this great idea|I'm here to piss on?
Well,|I have been doing some research
into what it'll cost to set up|Cocktails & Dreams.
If we find the right location,
do our own renovation, we can start|it up for as little as $75,000 cash.
Which the Tooth Fairy|will deliver to our doorstep?
No, man.
- Which we make in Jamaica, man.|- Oh, God, Brian.
I like that. Jamaica, south of SoHo.
Oh, yeah, man. Very south of SoHo.|The Caribbean. Jamaica, man.
I was there on a shoot
and met a bartender|who makes $400 a day.
- A day.|- And he didn't have your talent.
- Yeah, man.|- I should hope not.
Winter in the tropics,|spring in New York.
Jet-set bartenders, eh?
We can live for peanuts there.|No taxes, cash off the books.
- Three seasons, we're in business.|- You want to wait three years?
I've told you,|New York is where the angels are.
Come on.|This is a real opportunity.
- Oh, yeah.|- We'll have a fantastic time.
Will we?
- Carl, huh?|- Coral. English. Coral.
Why are chicks always named after|inanimate objects?
There's nothing inanimate|about Coral.
Hot number, huh?
Good shot.
- Ten bucks behind the line?|- Sure. Shoot till you miss.
- Alright.|- Where does Coral live?
7 6th Street. She's got a brownstone.|She owns the whole building.
You don't think she lives there all|by herself, do you? It's a bit lucky.
- See any pictures?|- Of guys? No.
- That's 30 bucks you owe me.|- Jesus. I know.
The man's on a roll,|ladies and gentlemen.
So she's been saving herself|for young Flanagan all these years?
Or maybe she hides the pictures.
Check if her ring finger has|a white circle from her wedding band.
Man, are you paranoid.
It's the difference|between a one-nighter
and a relationship with|an unattached millionairess.
I'm not thinking about her that way.|This is more than a one-night stand.
- She'll do a number on you.|- I appreciate the concern.
That's 50 bucks you owe me.
- 50 bucks.|- 50 bucks.
50 bucks says Coral's in the sack|with another guy within a week.
That's a bet.
- Hi. How are you?|- OK. How are you?
- What will you have?|- A Screwdriver.
I take it back.|You're not going to be famous.
Too bad you couldn't keep quiet|about our sex life.
It only gets better.
- You made a move on Coral?|- Had to get my money back.
You knew how I felt about her.
An assembly-line hump|that does the book on the first date?
I did you a favour. Took her off you|before she twisted your mind.
You fucking son of a bitch.
Coughlin's Law: Never tell tales|about a woman. She'll always hear.
- Come on!|- Can't take the truth, eh?
It was a cheap shot. Where I come|from, you don't do that to friends.
Where you come from,|they're still saluting the flag.
And no brawling in here.|And that goes for the help as well.
I don't work here any more.
You want to cut me, come on!
You'll thank me for this one day.
The fuck I will!
Hey, buddy.
The name is not "buddy". It's "pal".
The brochure promised me a drink|on the house, pal.
- I want one of those orange things.|- Excuse me.
My friend passed out.|Do you have a phone?
No. Excuse me.
She was drinking champagne|in the sun.
Perfume going in, sewage coming out.
- Is she going to be OK?|- Yeah.
Somebody go to the office|and call an ambulance?
- Sure.|- Just in case. Let's get her up.
- The doctor will give her ipecac.|- I don't want any more to drink.
Don't worry. It'll make you better.
- It'll help you throw up.|- I don't want to throw up.
Oh, God.|I think l'm going to throw up.
- No. I'm alright.|- She can never make up her mind.
- Brian, I got to hit the road, man.|- OK, Owen.
Well... Bye.
It has been an adventure.
Owen'll take care of you.
- Mark, I haven't forgotten you.|- No problem.
Welcome to my most humble,|dishonourable establishment.
Thank you.
My worthless, useless services|are at your disposal.
I wanted to thank you|for helping out yesterday.
- It's alright. How's she doing?|- She has a hangover.
Can I buy you a drink?|One of my rum specialities, perhaps?
I'll have a beer.
My kind of woman.
Hey, guys. How you doing?
Same, Brian.
It seems like Happy Hour|all day around here.
Yes, Happy Hour.|That great American invention
for spending quality time|with spouse, soused.
A bartender with a line|for everything.
The bartender.
The highest evolution of the species.|Boozus New Yorkus.
I worked in a circus|before I got this job.
Excuse me.
You want to see a grown man|cry like a baby?
Hey, bartender.|You know how to make a Red Eye?
What, no tearful greeting?
Coughlin's Law: Never show surprise.|Never lose your cool.
Oh, my sons, my rebellious sons. Tell|your old buddy how great he looks.
You look like a guy who dyes his hair|and shaves with a Brillo pad.
A guy who gets an erection|on his birthday if the wind's right.
Isn't this great? Two years apart,|and we flow into the old act.
Please,|stop molesting the customers.
A daiquiri, if you will, bartender.
- I taught him everything he knows.|- I doubt that.
Don't you waste your loyalty on him.|He'll dump you after Valentine's Day.
- Isn't that clever?|- What the hell are you doing here?
This lad is the best bartender south|of 1 4th Street. It's his downfall.
How is being good at something|your downfall?
- Thank you.|- It's not an easy concept to grasp.
Take our hero here.|I've never been in this joint before,
but I'll bet he's got|a success manual behind the bar.
Come on, Flanagan, I know it's here.
- Touché.|- Voila.
Flanagan's a believer,|always will be.
But the doors are shut|to people like us.
- Maybe he wants to open them.|- Then he has to steal the key.
Something Coughlin here|has been unable to do.
I don't have to. Not any more.|I've had my miracle.
Oh, what?|Some alkie remember you in his will?
Better. I am in love.
There is my miracle.
Who? Pocahontas over there waiting|for everyone to notice her?
How dare you speak that way|about my wife?
- Your wife? In your dreams.|- For real.
We are here on our honeymoon.
Come hither.
- You're married?|- This is true love, young Flanagan.
True love with a kicker.|She's got millions.
Where were you? I thought|you'd drowned or something.
- No such luck.|- Brian Flanagan.
Kerry Coughlin, the love of my life.
- Hello.|- Hi.
You see before you a changed man.
The love of a good woman|has made me see the light.
Brian's cute.|How long have you known him?
About ten hours.
Excuse me. There you go.
I've never seen a club|with such intense dance vibes.
Come on,|let's decimate this dance floor.
- I don't get the two of them.|- It's simple.
She's a little rich chick|whose family owns half of Manhattan.
Just to piss them off,|she decided to marry a bartender.
True love.
Let's dance.
Do you ever have the feeling|that you might meet somebody?
You know, when you walk|into some place or something?
Star-crossed lovers syndrome?
I had a premonition|that I'd meet somebody here.
Really?|You've still got time, you know.
Some woman must have|really done a job on you.
Why does it always|have to be a woman?
It doesn't. Your friend Doug|could have done it to you.
What's this?|Immune to Coughlin's fatal charms?
Give him a minute. You'll love him.|All women do.
Well, I'm not like all women.
I'll give you that.
Of course,|I'm not like all men either.
Yes, you are an original.|Till you prove otherwise.
I'd better be careful|not to lose my unique status.
So, is this one-night-stand time?
It doesn't make you a bad person.
Do your parents own|half of Manhattan?
Well, then your virtue's|quite safe with me.
For this evening anyway.
Come on, I'll race you!
- So this is your profession?|- More like my obsession.
- Does it pay the rent?|- Some day it will.
Right now, though,|I'm waiting tables at Jerry's Deli.
I know the place.|Home of the famous cement Danish.
Yeah, that's the one.
- Don't look. It's not done.|- It doesn't look like me.
- It's the real you.|- You've captured my innermost soul.
Oh, my God. Are you OK?
We should go on one of those.
- There's a guy who makes these.|- One guy?
He must be exhausted.
Yes, he is. But still he gets up|in the morning, kisses his wife
and goes to his factory where he|rips off ten billion of these a year.
- This guy's a millionaire.|- And the guy who makes these?
How about him? Not to mention|the guy who makes these.
And those wrappers|are made by another guy.
And these plastic things|at the end of laces.
It's probably got one of those|weird names too, like "flugelbinder".
Flugelbinder. Right.
We sit here, and we're surrounded|by millionaires.
You rack your brains to come up|with a money-making scheme,
and some guy corners|the flugelbinder market.
Poor baby. He's frustrated.
You get a bar job to keep|your days free for your real gig.
After work you're so charged up,|you have a few drinks.
It's party time.
Days get shorter, nights get longer.|Before you know it,
your life is just one long night|with a few comatose daylight hours.
Stop feeling so sorry for yourself,|Flanagan.
Your flugelbinder is out there|waiting to be discovered.
- You think so?|- I do.
No. Stay.
Stay there.
I wish we could stay here forever.
I'd build a little hut|over there on the beach.
I'd fish and pick coconuts.
No, I'd do the fishing|and coconut-picking.
- No.|- Yes.
You'd make thatched skirts|for tourists.
Really? Thatch one, purl two?
Yeah. And we'd never go home.
Our kids would look really great|in dreadlocks too.
How is it going|with that little blonde chippy?
Why am I always with chippies|and you've got the princess?
That's a question|only you can answer.
This man's phenomenal.
In a room full of women, he picks|the poorest and dumbest every time.
This man's astounding. His wife|parades half naked on the beach,
and he thinks|she's there for the sun.
My wife does not need other men.
They say sexual vanity in men over 40|is the first sign of senility.
Please try to keep|your envy in check.
- Envy?|- He's my protégé.
I taught him all I know.
That and a token|might get me on the subway.
You can take a guy so far,|then it's a question of biology.
- Biology is destiny.|- Ah, the old foolosopher.
There are two kinds of people|in this world, workers and hustlers.
Hustlers never work and vice versa.
And you, my friend, are a worker.
I've tried to beat that out of him,|but it's in your immigrant blood.
Look how tasty your cocktails are,|how clean you keep your bar.
You actually take pride in your work.
I do not.
Is he or isn't he a great bartender?
- The best.|- See? They love you.
- I'm not stuck in this gig...|- You're a career proletarian.
You've been standing in a puddle|so long, you've got webbed feet.
- He gets lucky with a rich chick...|- Lucky, he says? You couldn't do it.
I've known this man for three years.|He's not a closer.
This place is crawling|with moneyed females.
Case in point. Rich and ripe,|and out of your league.
Out of my league? Well, she was|checking me out the other night.
Maybe she had 1 5 minutes to kill.
You know what it'd take to score|on a woman like that?
You'd have to get over on her,|her managers, her lawyers,
her maid and her tennis coach.
I've been training for this|my whole life.
Well... 50 bucks...
..says you don't even make it|over the bar.
That's a bet.
You guys are in on this. Be cool.
- Vodka on the rocks with lime.|- Oh, no. This is the tropics.
- At least try a Jus D'Amour.|- Pardon me?
Jus D'Amour. It means juice of love.
It's made with fresh fruit,|right off the vine.
And trust me when I tell you|that it is nothing short...
..of spectacular.
Excuse me. Do I have "fuck me"|written on my forehead?
I can't see a thing|without my contacts.
You're full of confidence,|aren't you?
Yeah. It kind of makes you curious,|don't it?
- "Mighty Casey has struck out."|- Now don't. Game's not over yet.
It wouldn't be any fun if they fell|over with their legs in the air.
Excuse me.
You are bad.
Hey, Dulcy.
Where's Jordan?
She left on a flight back to New York|late last night.
What did you do to her?
Brian, are you there?
It's Bonnie.
- Brian?|- Come in.
- You found my secret hiding place.|- The guys at the bar told me.
I've been thinking about you all day.
A plane ride home will cure that.
What I got, there ain't no cure for.
You can't send me away. I don't know|what will happen to me if you do.
My business will go to hell.|I'll start writing bad cheques.
- We can't have that, now, can we?|- No.
You don't really want me|to go away, do you?
These drinks are going to be|very tasty.
Into the market now, are we?
What's my greatest talent?
Reading between the lines.
And that's what|the market's all about.
- Cheers.|- Cheers.
I must admit...
..I never thought|I'd see you set up like this.
Don't worry.|I won't forget my close friends.
Kerry's old man has just backed me|in Manhattan's most luxurious joint.
We open in a couple of weeks.
Come back to New York with us|and I'll make you head bartender.
That sounds very nice,|but I've got plans of my own.
Like what?
Bonnie's hooking me up with her|business. I'm going back with her.
Kept man, eh?
You cut that blonde loose. Meanwhile,|your conscience is killing you.
If she hadn't left,|you'd be back there begging.
You think so?
And a bottle of Louis Xlll|says you'll be working for me
by St Patrick's Day.
A $500 bottle of brandy.
I'll have to take that bet.
Wake up! On your feet! Come on!
One, two, three, four!
Work those hips, girls! Come on!
Morning, babe. Can you get me|some carrot juice from the fridge?
Get some for yourself too.|It's addictive.
Every fucking morning.
Just tell him not to make a move|until he's seen our line, that's all.
And send Harvey|down to Dallas right away.
Good, Tony.|Great. You are beautiful.
Yeah. OK, I'll be in the office|in 15. Ciao, Tony.
- Tony? Tony Scaduto, the salesman?|- Yeah.
- I thought he was in Mexico.|- Just got back Friday.
- Then I can go and see him.|- We'll let it wait a smidgen longer.
Remember,|you're picking me up at seven.
Wear the pinstripe|we bought last week.
Did you tell him|about my marketing ideas?
They can't think I'm shoving|my boyfriend down their throat.
What does it matter?|You're the boss.
These guys are top salesmen, babe.|I can't treat them like office boys.
Listen to me.|You could wait six months,
you'd still be the youngest salesman|in the business.
Trust me, baby.
Get that heap out of the way!
- How will I get out of here?|- Cool down, buddy.
You limo drivers all have|your finger up your ass.
- Come on, move!|- Give us a break.
- Art.|- Hi.
Hello. It's so good to see you.
Hello, darling.
God, it's been ages.
- Hi. You look fabulous in that coat.|- Thanks.
That colour is gorgeous on you.
Take my coat, will you?
Bonnie, let's get out of here.
Darling, I think you've had|enough to drink. Brian...
- What is this, musical highballs?|- Come on, heel, boy.
Come again?
This one isn't party-broken yet.
Brian, this is Robert Powell.|He's the sculptor.
- How do you do? Interesting work.|- Thank you.
Interesting.|It's very urban in orientation.
Robert, tell me. How did you get|the cockroach to stand still?
You're drunk.
You're ugly.
Could you hold this, please?
I'm OK. Robert...
Brian! How could you do this?!
Have a nice day.
- The suspense is killing me.|- At least you could apologise.
Apologise? Yes.
Brian, we have to talk|about this seriously.
Talk is overrated|as a means of resolving disputes.
I moved my stuff out of your place|this afternoon.
I left a can of Spam. I hope|your brewer's yeast doesn't mind.
God, Brian, I'm sorry.
Brian... Listen, baby. I've got|interviews set up for tomorrow...
Forget it! I am not a salesman.
I tried to sell out to you,|but I couldn't close the deal.
Please.|I don't want to end it this way.
Jesus. Everything ends badly,|otherwise it wouldn't end.
Believe me, you are going to wake up|in the morning with a sigh of relief.
Because I'm not there.
- Waitress.|- One second.
Excuse me. Could you tell me|what the specials are, please?
What are you doing here?
- Thought you'd never see me again?|- Hoped is a better word.
- Excuse me.|- I'll be there in a minute.
Miss, we have theatre tickets.
You obviously are not here to eat,|so please leave.
- Miss.|- Waitress.
I'll be there in a minute.
I'm not leaving.
Your sexy little smile|won't work this time.
- I'm not leaving. That's it.|- You're not leaving?
Not until you let me apologise.
Did you say you'd like to see|the specials, sir?
I'd like to.
- We've been waiting.|- Excuse me.
Today's specials|are meatloaf mozzarella.
Chicken a la king.
And may I suggest some ketchup|for your fries?
I'd think twice about ordering|the specials if I were you.
Spare change for my dry-cleaning?
Sorry. Payday's Friday.
You wouldn't treat|a stray dog like this.
A stray dog can be loyal.
OK, I'm a rat.|There's no hope for me.
But even I have a right to defend|myself. At least to explain.
Come on in.
- Is this our waterfall?|- No.
- It's terrific.|- Yeah, it's alright.
The name's Mooney, not Monet.
So why did you humiliate me|like that in Jamaica?
How did I humiliate you?
Brian, I was there.|l saw you go off with that woman.
You're such an asshole.
It's not as bad as it seems.
You see, Doug landed a rich chick.|And he bet me I couldn't do the same.
A rich chick. So you'd go with a|woman just because she had money?
No, it's not the money.
He bet me that I wasn't good enough|to hustle her.
Hustle her?
And I was worth so little to you|that you could take some stupid bet?
No. A guy lays down a dare,|you got to take it.
How do you think I felt|seeing you go off with some woman
- after the time we spent together?|- Hold on a second.
You were pushing me. You were|coming on too strong, too fast.
I was pushing you?|You happened to be there too.
I thought we had something going.|I didn't play any games with you.
I know. I know.
I'm sorry. I...
I guess I just got spooked.
But now I know I can handle it.
You can handle it, huh?
So what if you got spooked again?
I won't.
- I'll bet I can spook you.|- No way.
I'm pregnant.
I'm spooked.
It's mine?
I was only asking.
You're not going to be|bothered or burdened, OK?
You can still go out|and make a million. Don't worry.
I'm not worried.|I mean, I am worried.
I don't want to discuss it any more.
- OK.|- Just go.
- Why?|- Because I want you to. Just go!
You let me come up here|just to kick me out, didn't you?
- Jordan.|- No.
Just get out!
If this is the way it's going to be,|why did you tell me about the baby?
Because I knew it'd be the best way|to get you out of my life.
Syracuse trying to stay|within striking distance
of Pittsburgh in the Big East.
That's for cigarette change.
You hand it to me, it's for change.|Put it on the bar, it's a tip.
- Hey, kid.|- Uncle Pat. Eddie. How are you?
- I got a problem. Can we talk?|- Make it fast. I'm real busy.
What's the matter?
I'm going to be a father.
Bar's closed!
Finish up.|Come on, hit the road. Let's go.
- Eddie, finish up. Everybody out.|- What?
You ought to know better|than come to a bartender for advice.
- What do I do about this girl?|- Nothing.
What do you mean?
She's not trying to shake you down|or make you marry her.
You don't care about her. Walk away.
What if I do care about her?
Then you got a problem.
Jordan, I just want to talk to you.
She's not hiding. She's not home.
She's at her parents'.|Go bang down their door.
- Do you know where that is?|- Park Avenue, corner of 67th.
- Park Avenue?|- Yeah, Park Avenue.
You get here when you say you will,|or you won't work here again.
- Excuse me.|- So you'll be here what time?
- I don't mean to bother you.|- What time?
- What apartment are the Mooneys in?|- The penthouse. Your name?
- Brian Flanagan.|- Are they expecting you?
Not exactly.
All visitors have to be announced,|Mr Flanagan.
Mr Flanagan,|will you come in, please?
- May I take your coat, sir?|- OK.
- Someone will be with you shortly.|- Thank you.
I'm Richard Mooney.
- I'm Jordan's father.|- I'm Brian Flanagan.
- I've come to see her.|- She's not here. But come in.
I'd like to talk to you.
Sit down.
I've certainly heard a lot about you|in the last few days.
I don't know what really happened|between the two of you, but...
I think you've got some nerve coming|here after what you did to Jordan.
I understand that. And I realise|that Jordan is very upset.
But if I could talk to her, make her|see I'll stick by her through this.
I hope you're not suggesting|you'll marry her.
I'm not sure what we'll do.|We have a lot to talk about.
The hell you do.
The hell you do!
Look, I know Jordan|a lot better than you do.
I've never seen her|as unhappy as she is now.
She's just not very wise|in the ways of the world.
And now what she needs around her|are people she can trust.
- She can trust me.|- She doesn't want to see you.
She doesn't want to even talk to you.
Wait here for one moment,|will you, please?
- Good afternoon, Miss Mooney.|- Hi.
- Mr Mooney, I think I'll just...|- Mr Flanagan, here.
- What the hell is this?|- That's for you.
$10,000?|Is that all your daughter's worth?
- OK, how much will it take?|- I don't want your goddamn money.
You can't buy me|out of Jordan's life.
I won't let some bartender|destroy her life.
- That is her choice.|- The hell you say!
What is going on here?
- I came here to talk to you.|- If you don't get out...
Dad, I will handle this!
Jordan, the other night|I didn't say the right things.
God knows,|I haven't done the right things.
But I think there's a chance for us.
There is no us. There are too many|things about us that don't work.
What about the baby?|Our kid needs a father.
Not one who won't be around|in a year.
- With your lifestyle, what kind...|- Dad!
Jordan, I want a second chance.
I deserve a second chance.
How will I know|you're being honest with me?
You're barely honest with yourself.
Honest? Why didn't you tell me|you were the original rich chick?
Because you're so hung up on money,
I was afraid I'd never know|how you really felt about me.
Me.|How you'd really feel about me.
See this?
This is your father's idea|of how to get me out of your life.
This is how hung up on money I am.
And as for how I feel about you...
I guess you'll never know.
Henry, it's cold!
- Henry, remember me?|- I'm Bruce Springsteen's cousin.
- You look more like his couch.|- Henry, I'm Doug's friend.
Mr Coughlin doesn't have friends|on a Saturday.
- Where's Doug Coughlin?|- He's over there.
Hey, you!
Doug! Coughlin!
- Doug!|- Flanagan!
My best friend in the world.|My only friend.
Piss off, Henry. It's OK.
It's great to see you,|my only friend. Sit down.
Looks like you've got|a lot of friends here.
Proctologist's dream.|Wall-to-wall assholes.
- It's great to see you.|- Because I came to pay off my bet.
- Brian.|- Kerry.
- What are you doing here?|- I came to beg and plead for a job.
It'd be great|to get some talent behind the bar.
Let's go somewhere where we can|appreciate this. Come on.
What are you doing out here?|Get in there and spend some money.
Keep me in the manner|I'm accustomed to.
How are you? Get in there|and spend some money, you two.
What do you think of my rowing boat?
- Jesus Christ!|- Come aboard, you landlubber.
Baccarat crystal.
Louis XIII, et voila.
Shall we let it breathe?
It hasn't breathed in 50 years.|It's dead. Let's just drink it.
- Health and friendship?|- Life and love.
Douglas Coughlin,|your ship has certainly come in.
My ship.
My ship is going down,|and I'm going down with it.
- How is that?|- All this is an illusion.
I'm on my arse.|I haven't got a pot to piss in.
A hundred grand a week. Painful.
I should have read some of your|sacred books, young Flanagan.
All I know about saloons is how|to pour whiskey and run my mouth off.
I knew nothing about insurance,...
..or sales tax, or the building code,|or labour costs.
Or the power company,|or purchasing, or linens.
Everyone with a hand|stuck it in my pocket.
You must make enough to cover that.
If I'd stuck to what I know best,|which is almost nothing.
Instead, I put all the cash|into commodities,
and blew the fucking lot.
On the margin.|Buy. Cover. Buy. Cover.
I wanted it fast.
See the headlines.
"Douglas Coughlin.|From bartender to billionaire."
- Doug, take it easy.|- Relax.
The luck is gone.|The brain is shot.
But the liquor we still got.
Doug, are you down there?
She knows nothing about this.|She thinks I'm a fucking hero.
My princess. My dream.
Oh, baby, not again.|I want to go home.
Come here. Toast Flanagan.
To the first and last person|I ever cared about.
To my wife.
Wake up. I want to go home.
You're the only person|in the world Doug respects.
We were a good team once.
Walk me to my apartment.|I hate going into that place alone.
- I'd better check on Doug.|- Please.
I want to talk about Doug,|about his problems.
Doug says you're incredible|with women. A real lady-killer.
- Is that what he says?|- What's your secret weapon?
Well, what you see is what you get.
- Hold it.|- What did you do that for?
I can't make it|with my best friend's old lady.
Am I supposed to live with the same|man day in and day out forever?
- And have no one else in my life?|- Yes. It's called marriage.
You want this as much as I do.|That's why you're up here.
But you can't do it now, can you?|You're scared.
I don't know what I'm doing.
You're just scared!
Hey, Doug.
Help me!
Somebody help me!
No! Somebody help me!
Is there anything you can tell me?
"The Lord is my shepherd.|I shall not want."
My dearest Brian,|A guy like me looks in the mirror,
he either grins,|or he starts to fade away.
And I haven't seen anything|to grin about in a long time.
This may not be|the most graceful exit,
but I know when the bottle's empty.
The only thing|I'm really going to miss
is the conversations we had.
At least I get the last word,|even if I had to mail it in.
Coughlin's Law: Bury the dead.|They stink up the joint.
As for the rest of Coughlin's Laws,|ignore them.
The guy was always full of shit.
But I guess you knew that already.
- Mooneys' apartment. Brian...|- I know. I'm not to let you in.
- If you just...|- Leave now!
I just want to talk to her.|I don't want to cause any trouble.
- Send her a letter. Out!|- Get your hands off me.
- Where's Jordan?|- In there.
You can't go in there.|Open the door.
- I must talk to you.|- What's going on?
There's so many things.|I don't know where to begin.
Doug is dead.
- What?|- He killed himself.
He was my friend,|but was too proud to let me help,
too proud to show how he felt|until it was too late.
I won't make that mistake.
- He pushed past me.|- I told you to keep him out of here.
- He got by me.|- Jordan, are you in there?
I've saved money|and got a loan from my uncle.
With hard work, I know|I can turn it into something great.
I know you can,|but it doesn't really matter.
Listen to me!
Get me the key.
I love you. I want to marry you.
I've loved you|from the first moment I saw you.
- Open the door!|- Please. Please come with me.
Flanagan,|get the hell out of my house!
Jordan, wake up. Don't you see why|he's come back? It's for the money.
- No, I don't want a thing from you.|- You won't get a penny.
- He's a loser.|- I'm not. Jordan, come with me.
Get him out of here.
Stay out of this. Please.
Throw him out of here! Come on!
- Hold it! Just hold it!|- Jordan, don't!
If you leave,|don't bother coming back.
- I'm going. I love him. I'm going.|- You're not going anywhere.
Stop her!
Get your hands off her!|She's pregnant!
You asshole!
It didn't have to be this way,|you know.
- You're on your own.|- That's the only way I want it.
A toast.|To the bride and to my nephew.
All the happiness.
When will I be loved?
Right now, baby.
You realise|we're both completely insane?
You'll probably want to divorce me|in three weeks.
No, you'll want to divorce me|when I'm fat and ugly.
Just don't get too fat.
I am going to be very fat,|and you are gonna love it.
- Brian, give us a poem.|- Yeah, come on.
A poem?
- We want a poem!|- Alright. A poem.
OK, a poem.
This poem is entitled...
.."Flanagan's Advice|To His Unborn Child."
Now, if Jordan gives birth|to a fine Irish son
There'll be Cocktails & Dreams|for him one day to run
A business that shall yield|a financial windfall
It better!
To be franchised|in every suburban shopping mall
A dynasty! We're founding a dynasty!
If a daughter arrives|to bless our clan
I guess the shit|will certainly hit the fan
But this I shall promise to thee
I'll never let her marry|a guy like me
Still, if she's the naughtiest of|girls with the wildest of young men
I swear l will be the best dad I can
And never, ever get spooked again.
- I bet I can still spook you.|- No way.
- Drinks are on the house.|- No! No!
The bar is open!
Caccia alla volpe - After The Fox
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Crimson Pirate The
Crimson Rivers 2 - Angels Of The Apocalypse
Crimson Rivers 2 Angels of the Apocalypse
Crimson Tide
Criss Cross
Cristina Quer Casar
Critters 2 The Main Course 1988
Crocodile Dundee in Los Angeles
Cronos 1993
Crouching Tiger Hidden Dragon
Crow The
Crow The - City Of Angels 1996
Cruel Intentions 3
Crumb (1994)
Cube2 Hypercube 2002
Cube Zero
Cure (Kiyoshi Kurosawa) CD1
Cure (Kiyoshi Kurosawa) CD2
Curse The
Custer of the west
Cut Runs Deep The 1998
Cutthroat Island (1995)