The Good Thief Script - Dialogue Transcript

Voila! Finally, the The Good Thief script is here for all you quotes spouting fans of the movie starring Nick Nolte.  This script is a transcript that was painstakingly transcribed using the screenplay and/or viewings of The Good Thief. I know, I know, I still need to get the cast names in there and I'll be eternally tweaking it, so if you have any corrections, feel free to drop me a line. You won't hurt my feelings. Honest.

Swing on back to Drew's Script-O-Rama afterwards for more free movie scripts!

The Good Thief Script


 

                   

What's up



 

                   

- I come to sit in.



 

                   

You gonna help me

with my losing streak?



 

                   

- It's not possible, Bob.

- Maybe not, but you could

give me the illusion.



 

                   

The illusion.

I've got plenty of that.



 

                   

So how much does

illusion cost?



 

                   

- The usual.

- Got a prime here, Said. Should I stick with it?



  

                   

- What's a prime?

- Special number. Divisible by itself and one.



  

                   

- You're a mathematician, Bob?

- Yeah. Chaos theory.



  

                   

- How much? I don't know.

- Two hundred?



  

                   

- Want to gamble?

- You'd only lose.



  

                   

- You spyin' on me, kid?

- No.



  

                   

- I work here.

- Since when?



  

                   

- Since last week.

- You're too young to work here.



  

                   

- That's not what Remi says.

- Oh, I'm sure it's not.



  

                   

Besides, you're too old

to do that.



  

                   

You're right.

We're both lost souls.



  

                   

- What age are you, kid?

- Seventeen.



  

                   

Seventeen?

Well, what do you know? A prime.



  

                   

What's a prime?



  

                   

Special number, divisible

by one and itself.



  

                   

Strange thing about primes is,

the further you get from ze--



  

                   

- Hey, kid. Hey. Hey.

- Hmm?



  

                   

Will you shut that door

for me, please?



  

                   

- Lesson over?

- For now.



  

                   

He said he's taking you with him.

If he lets you book him...



  

                   

they'll deport him

to Algeria.



  

                   

And he'd last two days.

He might as well die here as there.



  

                   

He's gonna count to three.

If they don't drop those guns...



  

                   

- he's gonna blow your head off.



  

                   

He said,

"One. Two. Three.!"



  

                   

You know, I swore

I'd never share a needle.



  

                   

- Why'd you do it?

- I thought you'd put a word in for him.



  

                   

- Keep him in France. What would he get?

- Possession with intent.



  

                   

- Five years.

- And for murdering a police officer?



  

                   

- Throw away the key.

- There you go. That's why.



  

                   

- You didn't do it for me, then, huh?

- You? Fuck you.



  

                   

You're my worst nightmare. My bad angel.

How many times have you booked me?



  

                   

I forget. But once more

and they throw away your key.



  

                   

- Don't let it happen.

- Thanks for the lesson, schoolteacher.

I'm clean.



  

                   

You try a new scam, Bob, it won't be me.

The whole system will flatten you.



  

                   

I've retired. I'm a junkie gambler now.

A big loser. That's all.



  

                   

- Name the best thief that ever lived.

- Bob?



  

                   

No. Pablo Picasso.



  

                   

The cat stole from everybody: Rubens,

Delacroix, Cézanne, Van Gogh, Matisse.



  

                   

- Never got caught. I met him once.

- I'm impressed.



  

                   

A bullfight.

I bet on the bull, he bet on the matador.



  

                   

The matador got    stitches.

I got a painting.



  

                   

- Still have it.

- Then you're flush!



  

                   

No, no, no. I'm broke.

That never sells.



  

                   

"Portrait of Jacqueline."

Looked like her.



  

                   

Just in from Moscow, huh?



  

                   

Why don't you arrest her now?

Get it over with.



  

                   

- Get what over with?

- The whole dreary cycle.

She'll work the streets.



  

                   

For her troubles, she'll end up in the river

with a needle in her arm.



  

                   

- Go on, be a good cop.

- All I see is a girl on a motorbike.



  

                   

Frisk them.

You'll find a passport.



  

                   

- There's a thing called the law.

I don't see it being broken.

- Use your imagination.



  

                   

You're looking for

a replacement for Lydia?



  

                   

- Stick to your cards, Bob.

- Who's Lydia?



  

                   

Lydia's in the hospital.

She's been there quite a while.



  

                   

- I said, stick to your game, okay?

- Yes, my game.



  

                   

Problem with my game is

luck can fall both ways.



  

                   

Whereas, with your game,

luck doesn't enter into it.



  

                   

What's his game,

Monsieur Bob?



  

                   

It's as old as mine,

but he plays with girls from the sticks...



  

                   

and the odds are

all his his favor.



  

                   

- I haven't had a hand like that since...

- What? Since when?



  

                   

- You fucking loser.



  

                   

- Bosnia.

- I don't need a guardian.



  

                   

- No?

- Maybe you do.



  

                   

So, is that

just bad makeup?



  

                   

Oh, you got a thing

about eyes.



  

                   

Only when they're lucky.



  

                   

So you protect the honor

of widows and orphans, huh?



  

                   

Oh, you're not backward

for your age.



  

                   

Night school.

He wasn't my pimp.



  

                   

Oh, no? So what was he doing

with your passport? 



  

                   

- Okay. Five hundred on the corner pocket.

- Sure, Bob.



  

                   

- Why do you call me Bob?

- Because you try to imitate him.



  

                   

- Imitate that.

- Yvonne, turn that shit off

and give us some french fries.



  

                   

Paulo, Raoul.

Anne.



  

                   

- You want to shoot some pool?

- Not now. She looks hungry.



  

                   

Oh, let me show her

to a table.



  

                   

- Smoking or not?

- Smoking.



  

                   

Your dinner date is old

enough to be your father.



  

                   

- You should try someone younger.

- I just left someone younger.



  

                   

- Oh, why?

- He didn't live up to my ideal of manhood.



  

                   

- But you haven't met me.

Do you always sleep alone?

- Nearly always.



  

                   

When she's not hanging out

at  :   in the morning eating french fries.



  

                   

- With mayonnaise.

- Are you from Bosnia?



  

                   

- So that's what it's called now.

- What brought you here?



   

                   

Mayonnaise.



   

                   

-   :  . We're supposed to be at the bodega.

- Yeah.



   

                   

- See you again.

- Why not?



   

                   

Don't go giving that

to strange men.



   

                   

You arranged that fight so you could

pick his pocket? You're a clever guy.



   

                   

I'm a knight in shining armor.



   

                   

- Yvonne, the bill.

-    francs.



   

                   

- What are we doing?

- We? It's late.



   

                   

- Bedtime.

- Your place?



   

                   

- Have you any dough on you?

- Loads. Thirty francs.



   

                   

Thirty francs? Here, kid. For your hotel.

Good night, kid.



   

                   

I say red, darling.



   

                   

- What do you say?



   

                   

Black.



   

                   

- Hey, you!

- Where are you going with that suitcase?



   

                   

- You had enough?

- The owner of my hotel

has ridiculous principles.



   

                   

She always wants paying.



   

                   

The people you owe money to

have always got ridiculous principles.



   

                   

What happened to the money

I gave you?



   

                   

- Paid my debts. I owe Remi.

- What debts?



   

                   

Oh, I'm sure you do.

I won't ask what for.



   

                   

He set me up here,

said I could pay him back weekly.



   

                   

- Does he charge interest?

- What's that?



   

                   

Never mind.



   

                   

- All your worldly belongings in there?

- Yes.



   

                   

- Where will you sleep tonight?

- Somewhere.



   

                   

- You want to come to my place?

- Yes.



   

                   

Don't worry. You got a home.

Get in.



   

                   

You must have a rich family.



   

                   

- I can't complain.

- What do you do?



   

                   

- Ministry of Agriculture.

- What?



   

                   

Protection of the horse of France.



   

                   

Seriously, I love horses.



   

                   

I'd have sacrificed everything...

my time, my money, my life...



   

                   

- Isn't that right, Paulo?

- Yeah, that's right.



   

                   

- It brings in money?

- Never.



   

                   

Well, I've got to

check my horses.



   

                   

- Will you be back late?

- Will I be back late, Paulo?



   

                   

- Never before  :  .

- Oh.



   

                   

- I thought that...

- What?



   

                   

- What did you think?

- You'd stay.



   

                   

No, no. Why don't you tell Paulo

what you think? Okay?



   

                   

Hey.



   

                   

Hey.



   

                   

Prince of Orange. Number seven.

That's my lucky number.



   

                   

- How much do you want to put on it?

- Everything I got left.



   

                   

-       francs.

- Bob, you're crazy. What if you lose?



   

                   

I'll have hit rock-bottom.

I'll have to change my ways.



   

                   

- Place it for me.

- Do it yourself.



   

                   

Me? Place a bet

like that? Never.



   

                   

Prince of Orange.

You could do worse.



   

                   

Oh, you know,

I'm missing a passport.



   

                   

- And the girl that went with it.

- She's just a kid, Remi.



   

                   

- Let her have a life.

- I was investing in her future.



   

                   

Girls are unreliable.

Horses, now, there's an investment.



   

                   

- Oh, you're going to give me a tip?

- Prince of Orange.  - .



   

                   

I'd stake my life on it,

and let's call it quits.



   

                   

I'm not

a betting man, Bob.



   

                   

- But if I was, you know something?

- Try it. It's a blast.



   

                   

I have to say you owe me one!



   

                   

- Think it'll make the race?



   

                   

Why does he have

so much ice cream?



   

                   

That's all

he can eat sometimes.



   

                   

- Ah, heroin.

- His lady.



   

                   

I thought luck

was his lady.



   

                   

Ah, when one runs out

he turns to the other.



   

                   

- Why?

- Why?



   

                   

Who knows?



   

                   

Why do I want

to kiss your neck?



   

                   

What about Bob?



   

                   

What about Bob?

He's given us some space.



   

                   

Oh. But I thought...



   

                   

- Are you sorry?



   

                   

- Okay.



   

                   

- So. Where to, boss?

- Home.



   

                   

Don't you want to continue

your winning streak?



   

                   

- What happened to home?

- Forget about home.

You're going to Monte Carlo.



   

                   

- Where in Monte Carlo?

- The Casino Riviera.



   

                   

- You see, Bob, I figure

you needed a reason for living.



   

                   

- Now that your luck's bottomed out.

- That it has.



   

                   

- The Casino Riviera...

- Has a safe.



   

                   

- Yeah.

-    million in cash deposits

in a safe on a hydraulic lift.



   

                   

We've been through it already.



   

                   

So has everybody from here to Paris.

It's impossible.



   

                   

- Yeah. But that's not it.

- Besides, I'm just a gambler now.



   

                   

Oh, since when?



   

                   

- Since my last six convictions.

- Ah.



   

                   

Let me start again.



   

                   

The Casino Riviera

has been refurbished.



   

                   

New owner.

Funded by a Japanese bank.



   

                   

- So?

- So they're taking it upmarket.



   

                   

They want to attract

a new class of customer.



   

                   

- How do they do that?

- Art.



   

                   

- Art?

- Paintings. On the walls.



   

                   

- Remember the '  s, Bob?

- No.



   

                   

The Japs had so much cash

they couldn't spend it.



   

                   

- They bought... Yeah.

- Art.



   

                   

Picasso, Modigliani, Cézanne...

At prices you can't imagine.



   

                   

So, to recoup their investment,

they hang it on the wall of the casino.



   

                   

- And you want to lift...

- Fuck the safe!



   

                   

The paintings.

Worth more than ten years of Grand Prix.



   

                   

- How?

- Oh. Now you're interested.



   

                   

Where's Paulo?



   

                   

- Helping a friend.

- Oh.



   

                   

- Better than wallpaper, hmm?

- No comparison.



   

                   

- What was that song

about Van Gogh?

- "Starry, Starry Night."



   

                   

So where is

"Starry, Starry Night"?



   

                   

- Maybe in the Guggenheim.

But don't be picky.

- Let's not be picky.



   

                   

Come over here.



   

                   

- La chambre Picasso.

- Oh, that's how it is.



   

                   

Hello, Jacqueline. Huh!



   

                   

- Cézanne.

- Yeah. There's only one problem.



   

                   

- What's that? I know.

- They're fakes.



   

                   

Good ones.

I think another forger.



   

                   

- Modigliani. Beautiful, isn't it?

- Yeah.



   

                   

- You want to rob fakes?

- No, not exactly. Come outside.



   

                   

- The originals are in there.

- Why are they in there?



   

                   

It's a Japanese thing.

Protect your investment.



   

                   

Painting in the vault,

perfect copy on the wall...



   

                   

- And we crack the vault?

- Yes.



   

                   

- Yeah.

- And you know the beautiful thing?



   

                   

- What's the beautiful thing?

- They can't disclose the robbery...



   

                   

because if they did,

the joint closes.



   

                   

Who'd come to see

a copy of a Van Gogh?



   

                   

Either somebody just walked over my grave,

or I'm going through withdrawal.



   

                   

- Maybe you're excited.

- Who tipped you off?



   

                   

A friend of mine.



   

                   

You leaving

the best to last?



   

                   

Vladimir.

He installed the security system.



   

                   

- You okay?

- No, I'm not okay.



   

                   

I'm out of dope, and I'm out of luck,

and I'm tempted.



   

                   

But I want to die in an old folks' home,

not in a jail.



   

                   

- Well, then, forget about it.

- We'll need money, a lot of it.



   

                   

- How do you plan to get it?

- I take out a loan.



   

                   

- Pretty good deal.

- Fuck that. The interest...



   

                   

We'll get the money, Bob.

What we need is a plan.



   

                   

- Don't you have one?

- That's your speciality.



   

                   

- You know what my plan is?

- You've got one already?



   

                   

No more gambling!

No more dope!



   

                   

- Till we pull this off. Of course I'm in.

- So, Bob. You're in?



   

                   

- Hey.

- Here's the deal.

I'm gonna chain myself to that bed.



   

                   

I'm gonna need

the bucket, the bedpan...



   

                   

- and some ice cream.

- Yes, Bob. I'm sorry, Bob.



   

                   

Oh, Paulo, love means

never having to say you're sorry.



   

                   

- You look good for a man of your age.



   

                   

What age is that?



   

                   

You know, Stone Age?



   

                   

- Kinky, as well.



   

                   

I feel a confinement

coming on.



   

                   

- What do you say when I ask for that key?



   

                   

- No way.

- Thank you.



   

                   

Oh, Jesus.



   

                   

- So you told him?

- Why do you think he's sweating it out?



   

                   

- Hi.

- Hey!



   

                   

I thought you'd been

sent to Algiers.



   

                   

That cop put in

a word for me.



   

                   

Thought you were going to blow away.

How kind.



   

                   

- Seen Bob?

- Why do you want Bob?



   

                   

- I want to thank him.

- I'll tell him. He'll be touched.



   

                   

- Give me the key.



   

                   

- No.

- Give me the key.



   

                   

I'll do anything you want.



   

                   

- You would fuck me?

- If that's what you want, then give me the key.



   

                   

Come and get it,

Mr. Stone Age Man.



   

                   

Do you like my tits,

Mr. Stone Age Man?



   

                   

- Give me the key! Give me the key.



   

                   

Nearly there, Bob.

Nearly there.



   

                   

- Nearly there.

- Fuck! I can't.



   

                   

Please, please!



   

                   

You know what, Bob?

I think I'm not your type.



                   

Hey, kid.



   

                   

Thank you.



   

                   

One day at a time, Bob.



   

                   

- Isn't that what they say?

- Yeah.



   

                   

- Said. You prefer Nice to Algiers, huh?

- No comparison.



   

                   

If you're playing for time,

kid, you don't have any.



   

                   

- I swear to you I'm not.

- I'm calling Immigration.



   

                   

- I've got something big!

- How big?



   

                   

Bob Montagnet

is involved.



   

                   

- Are you fucking with me?

You know what that means?

- No, just give me time.



   

                   

- It's personal with you. You like Bob!

- No, no, everyone likes Bob!



   

                   

- That's part of the problem!

- I like Bob too!



   

                   

You are on double-duty    hours a day.

You find out what he is going to do...



   

                   

before he has a chance to do it,

because if I have to book him...



   

                   

I'll carry you personally

to Algiers...



   

                   

I'll deliver you in cuffs

to whatever fuckin' mullah...



   

                   

wants to chop you

into pieces over there.



   

                   

- Is that clear? Is that clear?

- Yes. Yes!



   

                   

Shh! He's sleeping.



   

                   

- That's good.

- Three and a half days. Out. Out.



   

                   

Why are the French so god-awfully bad

at rock 'n' roll?



   

                   

- What do you mean?

- I mean, look at it.



   

                   

We give you Elvis Presley,

Frank Zappa, Jimi Hendrix, Bob Dylan.



   

                   

And you give us

Johnny Hallyday.



   

                   

- Don't talk to me about Johnny Hallyday, okay?

- All right, all right.



   

                   

- You know, I'm a gambler, Roger.



   

                   

- Yeah, I know.

- That means I'm good at probabilities.



   

                   

- I was never good at those.

- Well, I have to be.



   

                   

Having driven now for about

one hour and    minutes...



   

                   

and having you constantly

in my rearview mirror...



   

                   

I'd say the probability

is that you're following me.



   

                   

I was keeping an eye on the Russian girl.

I end up following you.



   

                   

Really?



   

                   

You're gonna need

a tow truck.



   

                   

- It's your fault.

- No, no, no, no, no.



   

                   

My mother was born

down there.



   

                   

She was washing her sheets

in the rocks below...



   

                   

when a parachute

fell out of the sky.



   

                   

It carried Vincent Montana,

United States Marine Corps, my father.



   

                   

She thought he was an angel,

delivered from heaven.



   

                   

Oh, this was

a sentimental journey.



   

                   

At our age, Roger,

we have behind us a growing past...



   

                   

and face

a diminishing future.



   

                   

- We consider our options.

- Oh, yeah. What are they?



   

                   

Me? I just go on.

We have to stay clean.



   

                   

Will you give me a lift

back to Nice?



   

                   

- Will you stop following me?

- Uh-uh.



   

                   

Okay.



   

                   

Philippe? Philippe?



   

                   

Make up a report, will you? "One silver

Peugeot damaged, near the village of, uh...



   

                   

Bas-sur-I'Eau."



   

                   

Get me the file on Bob.



   

                   

- Bob Montagnet?

- Montagnet, Montana.



   

                   

Bob le flambeur.

Bob.



   

                   

What's his passport?

American or French?



   

                   

Hey. Both.



   

                   

He's growing old, huh?



   

                   

- There's gratitude for you.

- He's turned snitch.



   

                   

Of course he has.

All part of the plan.



   

                   

- You going to share it with anybody?

- Well, we're being watched.



   

                   

Tried to enter Monaco yesterday.

Had Roger on my tail.



   

                   

- So you lost him?

- No, I didn't get there.



   

                   

Visited my mother's

birthplace instead.



   

                   

- Where was she born?

- I forget.



   

                   

But as I was lookin' at the place,

whatever it's called...



   

                   

- I had an epiphany.

- What's an epiphany?



   

                   

- We set up two robberies. Just stay with me.

- Huh?



   

                   

This one takes some time.



   

                   

We do it on the night

before the Grand Prix.



   

                   

- Are you crazy?

- Maybe, but hear me out.



   

                   

Every thief around here has been waiting

for years to pull that one off.



   

                   

So I set it up, finally.

I know they're watching me.



   

                   

They know

I'm down on my luck.



   

                   

- Now, you ever heard of Judas?

- There is a snitch.



   

                   

Oh, yeah. Always is.

One-time friend. New enemy. Old lover.



   

                   

You're lucky if you find him

in time to shut him up.



   

                   

But this time, man,

I don't care.



   

                   

Maybe I even cultivate him.



   

                   

- You're not with me.

- Not yet.



   

                   

On the night before the Grand Prix,

I'm in the casino with you and Paulo.



   

                   

We pose as gamblers.

We get an inside contact there.



   

                   

We get the make of the safe, the setup,

as complete as it can be.



   

                   

But Roger has every cop, every piece of security

in the place watching me.



   

                   

So what do I do?

What would you do?



   

                   

- I'd call it off.

- Exactly.



   

                   

I'd call it off.

But at  :   in the morning.



   

                   

In the meanwhile, we have a crew in the villa

where the real heist takes place.



   

                   

And they've had six, maybe seven

uninterrupted hours to secure those paintings.



   

                   

- Okay.

- It's like those paintings.



   

                   

- We've got a real heist, and a fake.

- Ah-ha.



   

                   

With the inner complication

that we want to be betrayed.



   

                   

Now, let's face it.

We generally are.



   

                   

There's always someone

turning snitch.



   

                   

This time we welcome the rat, and I let Roger

stay glued to my ass like a bad hemorrhoid...



   

                   

I can't get rid of.



   

                   

- Are we having fun yet?

- We will be, if it works.



   

                   

Yeah, if it works.

We better talk to your Vladimir.



   

                   

- Has he a record, this Vladimir?

- Maybe Moscow.



   

                   

- Why'd he come to you?

- I think it was, uh, pride.



   

                   

- Pride?

- Yeah. You'll see.



   

                   

- Stay back and imagine an invisible square.



   

                   

- I said, stay back and imagine...



   

                   

an invisible,

motherfucking square.



   

                   

So?

What do you guys think?



   

                   

Well, it's impressive, Vlad.

Really.



   

                   

You've got to imagine,    meters high,

Madison Square Garden.



   

                   

R.E.M. Are

ready to bite.



   

                   

We meant

your security system, Vlad.



   

                   

- Oh. You're the heist guys.



   

                   

Yeah. We're not

the rock 'n' roll guys.



   

                   

Villa St. Pierre.

Quite complicated, like this.



   

                   

You know how I was going

to call this? "Purple Haze."



   

                   

Yeah, good choice, Vlad. Get back

to the security system. How does it work?



   

                   

The way everything works.

Mathematics.



   

                   

    i-points in vertical.

The horizontal the same.



   

                   

That means,

the points of contact equal.



   

                   

-     squared, that's      .

- Very good. But listen.



   

                   

The horizontals and the verticals

move against each other.



   

                   

So, in effect,

I've covered infinity.



   

                   

If anything moves in there, anything that has

body heat more than rigor mortis...



   

                   

- What if the power fails?

- Half second delay, the generator kicks in.



   

                   

Have you ever tried

to heist in half second?



   

                   

- If the computer fails?

- It cannot.



   

                   

There is another hard drive connected,

has enough gigabytes to run a cruise missile.



   

                   

- You know cruise missiles?

- Yeah.



   

                   

- So it's impregnable?

- Yeah.



   

                   

- Hi. I'm Vlad.

- Hi. I'm Bob.



   

                   

- This is Paul.

- Hi, Paul.

- Hi.



   

                   

- So, why'd you contact us, Vlad?

- Between you and me?



   

                   

- Yeah.

- I got my family back in Vladivostok

begging me to get them out.



   

                   

So I got a thinking: The only guy

who could crack impregnable system...



   

                   

- is the guy who installed it.

- You.



   

                   

Me. The only way Vlad will crack Vlad system

is with a Vlad system.



   

                   

- Still with me?

- Almost.



   

                   

Villa St. Pierre.

I build it here in front of you.



   

                   

- Same dimensions, to the centimeter.



   

                   

I match the movement of the sensors

in my set after those in the villa.



   

                   

I get into the system so they read what's here,

not what's there.



   

                   

- Oh.

- Then there is a problem of sound.



   

                   

- The sound?

- You heist guys make a noise, no?



   

                   

Wire mesh built into the walls,

floor and the ceiling.



   

                   

Detects noisy, hammering

heist guys.



   

                   

The same thing,

I build it here.



   

                   

The exact dimension.

The alarm rings here...



   

                   

- but noisy heist guys hammering there.

- Can you do all this?



   

                   

- I live in hope. Tell you next week.

- Oh.



   

                   

How do you plug in

to their system?



   

                   

Their system needs upgrading

every six months.



   

                   

And my next visit is due

Tuesday, next week.



   

                   

I could leave there

a beetle.



   

                   

- Beetle?

- Sorry. It's the wrong word. A "bug."



   

                   

A miniature fifth column.



   

                   

Takes instructions from you.



   

                   

- And, uh, I need a equal partnership.

- Oh.



   

                   

A "favored nation."



   

                   

- It's a deal.

- Deal?



   

                   

Yeah.



   

                   

So.

How do we pay for this?



   

                   

The son

was sold to a devil.



   

                   

Do you know what Einstein said

about roulette, Anne?



   

                   

- What?

- It can only be beaten by a gambler...



   

                   

with infinite capital, playing in a game

without limits for eternity.



   

                   

- So why play?

- Einstein didn't believe in luck.



   

                   

- Black.

- You're gonna tell me I have to go now, right?



   

                   

- You can't stay here, Anne.



   

                   

Paulo's waiting for you

in the car.



   

                   

What if I said no?



   

                   

Well, I think Paulo

would be very disappointed.



   

                   

- No.



   

                   

Oh, no, no, no, no.

My, my.



   

                   

- Mm. Bob. Oh!



   

                   

He thinks the sun shines

out of your eyes.



   

                   

No, he thinks

it shines out of yours.



   

                   

And the moon.

He imitates you, Bob.



   

                   

He's a good kid.



   

                   

Some girls prefer

the real thing.



   

                   

Oh, ho, you think

I'm the real thing?



   

                   

You said I'd always

have a home.



   

                   

If you choose.

He's giving you a job, isn't he?



   

                   

- So he says.

- So, what else does he say?



   

                   

"I love you."

All the time.



   

                   

Only one solution.

Say it back.



   

                   

I can't.

I never could.



   

                   

- So, my place?

- You promise I won't regret it?



   

                   

I promise.



   

                   

- Yeah, I'd heard the legend.

- Pamplona. Pablo bet on the matador...



   

                   

- I bet on the bull.

- And the matador got how many stitches?



   

                   

- Twenty-six.

- I never believed until now.



   

                   

Amazing. I mean, the place

to sell this is New York.



   

                   

No, no, no, no.

Can't go back there.



   

                   

I'd heard that too.

So, what do you want?



   

                   

- An advance against the salary.

You take your commission.

- Forty percent.



   

                   

Do we argue that now?



   

                   

No. Not now.



   

                   

So, when can I see it?



   

                   

Milk. Straight up.



   

                   

- You going through

your second childhood, Bob?

- Twelve steps.



   

                   

I think I'm on two and a half.

Chin-chin.



   

                   

- I spoke to Petit Louis.

- So?



   

                   

- Is he interested?

- Interested enough to talk to you.



   

                   

Good. We'll need

Fernandez, Luigi and Bill.



   

                   

- You've turned down Philippe?

- Yeah, all the apostles.



   

                   

And here comes

one candidate for Judas.



   

                   

So, they let you out, my friend.



   

                   

Yeah. Someone put in

a good word for me.



   

                   

I thought it might be you.

That cop's a friend of yours, no?



   

                   

- Were there any conditions?

- I had to sign up for rehab.



   

                   

- So, you're clean too, huh?

- Yeah, I'm clean.



   

                   

But I've got a line

on some golden brown.



   

                   

Oh. How are you gonna

make ends meet...



   

                   

now that you're not filling up

that hole in my arm?



   

                   

- Ciao, Yvonne.

- Let's go.

- Ciao.



   

                   

- Is Fernandez around?

- Why you want Fernandez?



   

                   

Ask him, does he still want pesetas

to open that club in Rio?



   

                   

- But it's no good if we can't shoot.

- No boom-boom, Louis.



   

                   

This won't be the movies.



   

                   

- You mean, I can't even shoot blanks?

- No.



   

                   

- Action.!

- Shh!



   

                   

Oh, you look like

you kept in shape, Philippe.



   

                   

Yeah. I work out.

But you know the way it is.



   

                   

- Time passes, we all change.

- Uh-huh, do we ever.



   

                   

Yeah, well, some

more than others.



   

                   

- I don't know quite how to put this, Bob.

- Tell me anything, Philippe.



   

                   

Okay, it's Philippa now.

But if you still want me, I'm in.



   

                   

- Hey, Luigi. 

- Oui, oui?



   

                   

You know what he used to say:

I never borrow, I steal.



   

                   

Well, he was a good thief here.

I can see some Ingres.



   

                   

Bit of Velázquez

in these eyes.



   

                   

And this neck.

Some of those old Etruscan vases they used to...



   

                   

pick up on the beaches

at Pompeii.



   

                   

If this is hot, Bob,

I'm not touching it.



   

                   

It was a bet.

On my child's life.



   

                   

If this is hot, your child

won't have a life.



   

                   

I've got too many raps

against me already.



   

                   

There's no signature.



   

                   

A lot of'em aren't signed.

Here.



   

                   

- Pamplona,     .

- Mm.



   

                   

- And that's the signature.

- Yeah.



   

                   

I'd say, two to three

million dollars...



   

                   

at auction in New York.



   

                   

- I take my commission.

- Twenty-five.



   

                   

- Are you in a position to bargain?

- Thirty then.



   

                   

- With a   % advance.

- One and a half million francs.



   

                   

If there's something you're not telling me,

what's my security?



   

                   

There's nothing I'm not telling you.

And you have the painting.



   

                   

Does it come

with wrapping?



   

                   

Hello, Big Ears.



   

                   

Hello.



   

                   

So, how many of you guys knew

Philippe had turned into Philippa?



   

                   

- Well, I knew.

- I knew too, Bob.

- Yeah?



   

                   

- You mean, you didn't know?

- Nobody tells me anything.



   

                   

- Enough about me.

Are you going to tell us why we're here?

- Yes.



   

                   

- Hello.

- Hi.



   

                   

Jack Daniels?



   

                   

The fakes are cover

for the real.



   

                   

It travels on the grapevine.

The real one stays mum.



   

                   

- Yeah.

- How do we keep it mum?



   

                   

We all trust in each other

in this room.



   

                   

We've all

worked together.



   

                   

Any of you lets a whisper out,

I'll lock him in the bathhouse with Philippa.



   

                   

How do they travel

on the grapevine?



   

                   

Why do you think

I asked to meet here?



   

                   

There is your snitch.



   

                   

See how simple it becomes

when you embrace your own Judas?



   

                   

Oh, my God.

You did sell your soul.



   

                   

- I had to sell something.

- To whom?



   

                   

- Tony Angel.

- Tony Angel?



   

                   

- I hope you got a fair price.

- I got this.



   

                   

Fernandez.



   

                   

Luigi.



   

                   

Petit Louis.



   

                   

- Philippa.

- Hey. Aren't you worried about Philippe?



   

                   

- Why? Should I be?

- Since he...



   

                   

You know.

Became Philippa.



   

                   

When he had his balls cut off,

he lost his balls, so to speak?



   

                   

That's sex discrimination,

Paulo.



   

                   

- But women, they talk more!

- Does Philippa look like a woman to you?



   

                   

No, he looks like, uh,

Philippe... with melons.



   

                   

I'd trust Philippa with my life.



   

                   

I'll tell you what. Tell her if she talks,

I'll cut off her cojones.



   

                   

Or did she lose them, too?



   

                   

- What was that about?

- You told me to be nice to the patrons.



   

                   

Now you're jealous.

That's sweet.



   

                   

- Don't wait up for me.

- Now I'm jealous. Where are you going?



   

                   

- I got to meet Bob.

- Always meeting Bob. What is it this time?



   

                   

- I could retire on this.

- So R.E.M. Took the bait?



   

                   

Oh, fuck rock 'n' roll.

You heist guys are easier to deal with.



   

                   

So, what do

the heist guys think?



   

                   

- Oh, it's amazing, Vlad.

- Almost.



   

                   

A problem if you heist guys

get too noisy.



   

                   

All the system

still in place.



   

                   

- Over    d.B.'s, there is alarm override.



   

                   

So, we mike ourselves.

Carry a decibel comp.



   

                   

- Regrettably, the best Vlad can do.

- How about the cameras?



   

                   

You could have orgy there.

Nobody would notice.



   

                   

- You into orgies, Bob?

- No, not since '  .



   

                   

It's a deliberate mistake.

I got a good computer graphics.



   

                   

But I'm not Cézanne.

I need photographs from the casino...



   

                   

- to fill all these frames.

- I need to see that vault.



   

                   

I have an appointment Tuesday

to upgrade their system.



   

                   

I can't get you in there,

but it doesn't mean you cannot see it.



   

                   

Hey, you!



   

                   

- Tell me you love me.

- I can't. You know that.



   

                   

What kind of girl is it

cannot say three words?



   

                   

Very tired girl.

From a deeply dysfunctional family.



   

                   

- I say it to you!

- Nobody asked you to.



   

                   

What do I have to do

to get you to say it?



   

                   

Huh?



   

                   

Get me the moon.



   

                   

I'll do better.



   

                   

Suppose I told you I was going

to rob the Casino Riviera on

the night before the Grand Prix?



   

                   

And all for you.



   

                   

- How much in the safe?

- Is that all you can say?



   

                   

That's all.



   

                   

Eighty million francs.



   

                   

So say it.



   

                   

Eighty million francs.



   

                   

- It's Roger.

- Are you sure?



   

                   

- Certain.

- Aw, shit!



   

                   

- Change of plan?

- Yeah. You gotta take the train.



   

                   

- And you take the camera.

- You mean this lighter is a camera?



   

                   

It's a Minox. Do you think

I was gonna go up there with a Nikon?



   

                   

Take pictures of paintings.

Then play slot machines till I get there.



   

                   

- How does it work?

- Open it up...



   

                   

look through the viewfinder,

give yourself a light.



   

                   

- You like smoking?

- Not that much.



   

                   

There's    paintings.

That's    Marlboro Lights, I hope.



   

                   

I was trying

to give it up.



   

                   

Roger, I've given up my studies

on the probability theory.



   

                   

- Oh, really?

- Yeah, all that computation addles the brain.



   

                   

All I can say now is,

"What a coincidence!"



   

                   

- No. No coincidence. I was following you.



   

                   

- Hot damn, wrong again.

- You found religion?



   

                   

I'm paying my respects...

to my mother.



   

                   

- Do you remember that village

where she was born?

- Yeah. Bas-sur-I'Eau.



   

                   

- Yeah. That G.I. That came out of the sky?

- What is your father?



   

                   

Yeah. Well, they moved here,

to the old town.



   

                   

He became a junkie.

And when he up and left...



   

                   

she became one of those ladies in black you see

over there lighting candles.



   

                   

Praying for

her husband's return.



   

                   

- Were her prayers answered?

- Well, the way all prayers are answered.



   

                   

Not in the way

she wanted.



   

                   

He turned up again when I was seven,

clean as a whistle...



   

                   

with a new wife named Dora...

took me to a new life in America.



   

                   

And, by the time

I made it back here, well...



   

                   

- She wasn't lighting candles anymore.

- Yeah.



   

                   

You know, that's the third

version you've told me.



   

                   

Well, that's the truth.



   

                   

- So is it true what they're saying?

- What are they saying?



   

                   

Well, they say

you're back in business.



   

                   

- No?

- The only business I'm in, Roger...



   

                   

is the business

of recovery.



   

                   

Three weeks. I'm clean.



   

                   

Our daily bread,

forgive us our trespasses...



   

                   

Have you heard the story

of the Good Thief, Roger?



   

                   

- No. I'm not religious.

- No. Neither am I.



   

                   

But when my mother told it,

I guess it stuck.



   

                   

The Good Thief...

beside Jesus on the cross...



   

                   

and Jesus said to him,

if I remember this right...



   

                   

"Tonight you will be

with me in paradise."



   

                   

And the thought that there was a place

in heaven for a thief always made me cry.



   

                   

You want to make me cry now?



   

                   

You gotta watch this cynicism, Roger.

It's too easy in that job of yours.



   

                   

- I'll work on my attitude.

- You should. You should.



   

                   

Bob. You saved my life,

but if you try something...



   

                   

- Try what?

- Do I have to spell it out?

I'll put you down for life.



   

                   

- You're a cop. That's what you do.

- What are you?



   

                   

I was good at thieving once, Roger,

and I may not be the Good Thief yet...



   

                   

but I am trying...

believe me, I am trying.



   

                   

Now if you excuse me.



   

                   

I have to

pay my respects.



   

                   

She was a good woman.

My mother.



   

                   

What do you know?

It's the Candy Man.



   

                   

- Is that my new name?

- Yeah.



   

                   

Got a kiss for me

this fine evening?



   

                   

Yeah, sure.



   

                   

Your boyfriend Paulo...

what's he up to?



   

                   

- Works with Bob.

- On what?



   

                   

- Doesn't tell me.

- What's he working on, baby?



   

                   

That surprise.



   

                   

- On a safe.

- What safe?



   

                   

Give me first.



   

                   

A safe with    million.



   

                   

That's all I know.



   

                   

Got a light?



   

                   

That's it.

I'm giving up smoking.



   

                   

- Do you know nicotine's

more addictive than heroin?

- Really?



   

                   

Ask any junkie.



   

                   

- Are you done?

- Mm-hmm.



   

                   

- Anyone clock you?

- I don't think so.



   

                   

Guy with short hair with the ear piece.

Do you notice him?



   

                   

- Huh? Well, he noticed me.

- Yeah.



   

                   

Come on.



   

                   

- You want to see the vault?

- Yeah.



   

                   

I do my regular check

on their system.



   

                   

I plant my beetle.

Meanwhile, you enjoy the view.



   

                   

- From where?

- From the car behind.



   

                   

A reasonable picture, up to     meters.

Then it gets emotional.



   

                   

- Emotional?

- Kind of fuzzy.



   

                   

- Oh, emotional.



   

                   

- He has some kind of fancy system.

- Yes.



   

                   

- And there is nothing in that vault?

- Oh.



   

                   

I got a fine assist,

I guess we'll soon find out.



   

                   

Bon soir, monsieur.



   

                   

- Plans of the villa.



   

                   

- Where did you get them?

- Architectural Heritage Society. Very helpful.



   

                   

Security room, basement.



   

                   

Don't you guys know me by now?



   

                   

- Procedure is procedure.

- Oh!



   

                   

Procedure is procedure.

Sounds like a techno band from Dusseldorf.



   

                   

- Oh.

- Wow!



   

                   

No fantasist he.



   

                   

Good.



   

                   

Could you...



   

                   

- Thank you.

- Guess what that is.



   

                   

- What?

- The old Napoleonic sewers.



   

                   

They run downhill

towards the sea.



   

                   

That's our way in.

Turn that off. We can watch it later.



   

                   

Come on.

Do you think I'm blind or something...



   

                   

that I haven't noticed

what you're up to?



   

                   

- Yvonne...

- Men coming here to see you,

phone calls, everything.



   

                   

You're crazy.



   

                   

Bob, I haven't forgotten

that I opened this bar...



   

                   

with money you lent me.



   

                   

- So, if you need money now...

- You're mad, Yvonne.

What put that idea in your head?



   

                   

If you get yourself arrested,

you wouldn't survive, you bastard.



   

                   

Would you come and visit me inside,

bring me whiskey in a flask?



   

                   

- It wouldn't be the first time.

- Do you know him?



   

                   

No. Never saw him before.



   

                   

Why do I

imagine I have?



   

                   

- Ciao.

- Take care.



   

                   

Turn around.

Follow me.



   

                   

- What's up?

- Behind me. You remember him?



   

                   

Philippa, hop in that doorway

and find out what his beef is.



   

                   

- What the hell?

- Oh.



   

                   

You think

he whacked Philippa?



   

                   

Nobody whacks Philippa.

You're twins, right?



   

                   

We're onto you.

Whoa, whoa.



   

                   

What the fuck do you think you're doin'?



   

                   

- Get off!

- Philippa! Stop! Stop! Stop!



   

                   

- My arms are getting tired.

- Phil, be a bit more gentlemanly.



   

                   

This is Albert. That's Bertram

you're abusing. They're twins.



   

                   

This is Albert. That's Bertram

you're abusing. They're twins.



   

                   

Now, say you're sorry.



   

                   

- Sorry, Albert.

- The name's Bert.



   

                   

Let's go through it again.

This time pretend I'm slow.



   

                   

- Slow?

- Yeah, it means stupid, um, kind of.



   

                   

- It's simplicity itself.

- He's in charge of the deposits to the safe.



   

                   

They change

the combinations weekly.



   

                   

- I get the numbers. I make the deposits.

- He gives me the combinations.



   

                   

The night before the Grand Prix, while he's

in the manager's office, I'm on the floor.



   

                   

- The staff take me for him.

- He has access to the safe,

and my alibi is solid as a rock.



   

                   

I see. You've put a lot

of thinking into this.



   

                   

Two heads are better than one.



   

                   

- So, what was your plan?

- Nothing like yours.



   

                   

- Infantile in comparison.

- We need help to move that kind of money.



   

                   

So, if you want in...



   

                   

- No one's ever seen you together.

- No one in Monte Carlo.



   

                   

- Give us a day or two to think about it.

Right, Paulo?

- Or three.



   

                   

You go out the back.

You go out the front.



   

                   

- Crazy, boss, huh?

- Totally.



   

                   

But, you know, we want them

to think we want that safe.



   

                   

Twins. You see Roger's

following that?



   

                   

How's he gonna know

they're twins? Tell you what.



   

                   

Call him in a day or two.

Go through their plan again.



   

                   

- It has the benefit of originality.

- We've got that meeting.



   

                   

Yeah. You go out the back.

I'll go out the front. Try to lose Roger.



   

                   

Start without me

if you have to.



   

                   

Would you drive me, Roger? I have a meeting.

I'm attending Narcotics Anonymous.



   

                   

That was your support group

up there?



   

                   

- Yeah.



   

                   

You're welcome to join me. You should

support me in my battle against my addictions.



   

                   

Your addictions being...



   

                   

Gambling and narcotics.



   

                   

Okay, guys, imagine this is a vault.

All the alarms will be...



   

                   

coming in from here...



   

                   

And reinforced steel floor...



   

                   

- You know, every addict,

Roger, has an enabler.

- Nobody tells me anything.



   

                   

The one who, through no fault of their own,

maintains the addict in their habit.



   

                   

- Often needs the addict in their habit.



   

                   

- Let me guess. Your enabler is...

- Is you.



   

                   

We're codependents, Roger.

We have been for years.



   

                   

I mean,

look at you, now.



   

                   

You're chasin' me, because you imagine

that I'm chasin' a big score.



   

                   

- And maybe the cure starts with you.



   

                   

- The cure?

- Yeah, because deep down

you want me to try that big one...



   

                   

if only to see

how I'd do it.



   

                   

There's nothing I can do

that'll convince you that I'm clean.



   

                   

It's unhealthy, Roger.



   

                   

- It means we're both hooked.

- Running through a tunnel...



   

                   

between the ceiling

and the floor...



   

                   

Bill packs these mikes... Make sure

you keep that needle below   . Right, Vlad?



   

                   

You wanna come up?

We can explore these issues further.



   

                   

- I haven't hit rock bottom yet.

- You will.



   

                   

- Are you sure?

- The cure starts now. Say it.



   

                   

- Say what?

- "My name is Roger. I'm an addict in recovery."



   

                   

- No, no. You say it.

- My name is Bob,

and I'm an addict in recovery.



   

                   

And today is the first day

of the rest of my life.



   

                   

My name is Michelle, and I am an addict.



   

                   

Hello, Michelle.



   

                   

My name is Anne,

and I am an addict.



   

                   

- Hello, Anne.

- My name is Case.



   

                   

- I am an addict.

- Hello, Case.



   

                   

- My name is Bob, and I'm an addict.

- Hello, Bob.



   

                   

My name is François,

and I'm an addict.



   

                   

Hello, François.



   

                   

Paulo replaces the grill

and joins Bob and me in the casino.



   

                   

We keep them busy there.

And... no smoking.



   

                   

Okay, guys: Mikes, needle, gas main,

grill and casino, eh?



   

                   

- And that's how it works in theory.

- Yeah, in theory.



   

                   

We rehearse this on Friday.

Did you explain everything?



   

                   

- Yeah, yeah.

-



   

                   

Well, we're gonna go in there at night,

all right? Everybody understand that?



   

                   

So, Remi, have I gone up in the world,

or come down?



   

                   

From my perspective,

you're kind of standing still.



   

                   

You can't move

standing still?



   

                   

I think you should

value yourself more highly.



   

                   

Think he's right, Said?



   

                   

- Depends.

- Depends on what?



   

                   

- On what you're selling.

- Damaged goods. That's me.



   

                   

Would you prefer

to discuss this in private?



   

                   

Private? I like private.



   

                   

Come on, guys.

Come on.



   

                   

Location, the safe,

the    million francs.



   

                   

- And why should I tell you?

- Because I'll give you pleasant dreams.



   

                   

- Hmm.

- Look at this.



   

                   

Paulo. Philippa.



   

                   

- Gas faucet.

- Right.



   

                   

Twist it left till it stops.



   

                   

Okay, boss.



   

                   

Aaah!



   

                   

Hey...



   

                   

They're gonna rob...



   

                   

Bank of America,

fourth of July.



   

                   

- Don't make fun of me, you bitch!

- Learn maturity from the dogs in the street?



   

                   

I know it's the casino

where they are, okay?



   

                   

The night before the Grand Prix

in Monte Carlo. Now, fuck off.



   

                   

- Chill it.!

- What?



   

                   

Anne?

How are you?



   

                   

- Okay.

- How are you?



   

                   

- Good.

- You okay?



   

                   

- Here.

- Are you certain?



   

                   

- Yeah.

- It's my bag. I think it's lonely.



   

                   

- I miss you too.



   

                   

So, Vlad, that alarms

aren't mobilized?



   

                   

You still don't believe me?



   

                   

- What time is it, Raoul?

- Uh,  :  .



   

                   

 :  . Okay.

Here goes.



   

                   

- A lovely kid like you

shouldn't be in a nightclub, you know?



   

                   

You want me on the streets?



   

                   

Anne, you don't look   .

We both know that.



   

                   

- For you?

- For both of us.



   

                   

I must be made of gold, then.

Everybody wants a piece of me.



   

                   

Okay, let's go.

You should get some fresh air. Come on.



   

                   

Yeah.



   

                   

All right.

Two feet of brick.



   

                   

Keep the sound at

sixty d.B. Should take?



   

                   

- No. Two more is max.

- All right. Let's get the torch ready.



   

                   

- Maybe I should melt myself down...



   

                   

- Maybe I should melt myself down...



   

                   

and give a piece of me

to everyone who wants a piece of me.



   

                   

Who wants

a piece of you?



   

                   

- Paulo for one.

- Oh. And what does he want?



   

                   

- He wants to buy me the moon.

- Oh?



   

                   

- The moon.

- Mmm.



   

                   

- Moon's very expensive, you know.

-



   

                   

And how would he

pay for it?



   

                   

- The heist.

- Oh, yes. Of course. The heist. Who else?



   

                   

Said.



   

                   

- He wants to know

what I know about the heist.

- Oh. What do you know?



   

                   

Mm, well, what I know

I didn't tell him.



   

                   

- That's my clever girl.



   

                   

And Monsieur Bob,

he doesn't want money.



   

                   

He wants what money can't buy.



   

                   

What can't money buy?



   

                   

Beauty.



   

                   

- You are being mysterious now.

- Hmm.



   

                   

Isn't beauty always mysterious?



   

                   

- Like you.

- Hmm.



   

                   

- I'm tired, Remi. Will you take me home?

- Of course. Of course.



   

                   

- Can you keep a secret, Paulo?

- Depends.



   

                   

After the operation,

everything was the same.



   

                   

- Everything?

- Ja. I bench press     pounds...



   

                   

- I'm still the same bad motherfucker,

except for...

- Except for what?



   

                   

- Spiders. Can't take spiders.

- Spiders?



   

                   

- And there's spiders round that faucet, Paulo.

- Uh-huh.



   

                   

Can you do

the faucet, Paulo?



   

                   

- Yeah. I'll... I'll do the faucet for you.

- And keep it between us, Paulo.



   

                   

I mean, I don't want no laughing.

I got a reputation, you know?



   

                   

Here you go.



   

                   

Paulo.



   

                   

- What the fuck is...

- I helped your girlfriend home.



   

                   

- You?

- Yes. Someone has to look out

for her, you know?



   

                   

She was in a bad way,

out of her head, telling stories.



   

                   

- Cool. Cool. Cool.

- What stories?



   

                   

- Cool.

- I said, what fucking stories?



   

                   

- Something about the safe.    million...

-



   

                   

The quai in Monte Carlo.



   

                   

Who'd she tell?



   

                   

Said.



   

                   

They say

they have a deal.



   

                   

When he gets her high,

then he fucks her, then...



   

                   

then she tells him

what the real story is.



   

                   

It's not true,

you lying pig!



   

                   

- Get the fuck out of here.

- I swear. I swear... on my tribe's life.



   

                   

Fuck!



   

                   

You'll get me shot, cop,

asking to tail like that.



   

                   

- Bob never killed anyone.

- Always a first time.



   

                   

You can always take your chances

in Algiers.



   

                   

Tell me.



   

                   

The Casino Riviera in Monaco.

There's a safe with    million francs.



   

                   

- I don't believe you.

- Tomorrow night, before the Grand Prix.



   

                   

Said! Said! Said! Said!



   

                   

If you want witnesses, Captain,

I saw the whole thing. It was Paulo Turco.



   

                   

Tell me something useful,

would you?



   

                   

He was afraid they blow the whistle

about the Casino Riviera.



   

                   

- I never thought Bob would be that stupid.

- He's not.



   

                   

- He just wants you to think he is.

- Hello?



   

                   

- I have this terrible feeling

you're going to tell me something.

- Yes.



   

                   

- It's not the money. The paintings on the walls!

- What paintings?



   

                   

You should call the casino.



   

                   

Bob? What did I do,

Bob? Huh? Huh?



   

                   

I don't know, honey.

What did you do?



   

                   

Careful. Now,

pick your feet up.



   

                   

Fuck.! I fuck it up bad, man.



   

                   

- I'm sorry, I lost it.

- What?



   

                   

Your Romeo here just shot your dealer,

and we have to know what you told him.



   

                   

- Nothing.

- Don't lie, you drunken bitch.!



   

                   

- You told him and you fucked him.



   

                   

You're a tough guy, Paulo? You shoot a

strung-out kid. What does that make you, huh?



   

                   

A mean, motherfucking,

gang-banging... bastard!



   

                   

- Get out of the car, Anne.



   

                   

Pathetic, fucking cliché!



   

                   

You're gonna keep driving

till you reach San Remo, tough guy.



   

                   

- You know where San Remo is?

- It's in Italy?



   

                   

You're facing a murder rap, Paulo.

That's quite a surprise.



   

                   

I don't want

any more surprises.



   

                   

- I'll make it up to you, Bob.

- Okay. Make it up to me in Italy.



   

                   

And I'll be grateful, Anne,

if you told me what you said.



   

                   

I swear, I told him nothing,

but Remi said...



   

                   

Wait. So Remi

said something?



   

                   

Mmm.



   

                   

I told him

what Paulo told me...



   

                   

about the Monte Carlo,

the night before Grand Prix.



   

                   

Paulo told you that?



   

                   

Yeah. He said he'd buy me the moon

when you robbed the casino.



   

                   

When we robbed what

from the casino?



   

                   

The safe with    million.



   

                   

- And that's all Remi told him?

- Mm-hmm.



   

                   

He said,

"I'll straighten you out."



   

                   

Okay.

It's okay, kid. It's okay.



   

                   

It's okay.



   

                   

- Anne... No!



   

                   

Hey, you, fake.!

Where's my money?



   

                   

- So, you knew Picasso?

- Met him once.



   

                   

Pamplona, wasn't it?

He bet on the matador. You bet on the bull.



   

                   

- The matador got how many stitches?

- Twenty-six.



   

                   

Well, it can't have been Pablo. It must have

been Paddy Picasso, his distant Irish cousin...



   

                   

because I had this canvas

valued in New York.



   

                   

- It's not worth the fucking freight charge.

It's a fake!

- It's a good fake, though.



   

                   

Isn't that a contradiction in terms:

"A good fake, a happy homosexual"?



   

                   

It was painted by Paul Keating,

one of the truly great fake...



   

                   

- Where did you meet him?

- At a betting shop in Croydon.



   

                   

- I gave him a tip on...

- Kazinski here is a really great artist.

Show him.



   

                   

No.! Not her. Not yet.

The picture.



   

                   

So, if I don't...



   

                   

- Get my... money back by Monday...



   

                   

what I do to both your faces

will definitely be cubist.



   

                   

Call it the new aesthetic.

What do you call it, child?



   

                   

- The new aesthetic

- Without an anesthetic. When did I say?



   

                   

- Monday.

- Monday. Come on, Kaz.



   

                   

- It's all right. It's okay.



   

                   

- Have you ever tried gambling, Anne?

- No.



    

                   

And I never

knew Picasso.



    

                   

Well, the thing about Pablo was,

no one ever really knew him.



    

                   

Just how much trouble

are you in, Bob?



    

                   

If I told you,

you wouldn't believe me.



    

                   

Oh, I believe

everything you tell me.



    

                   

Tell me about gambling.

Do you have any luck left?



    

                   

- I'll tell you tomorrow.



    

                   

- Did you call the casino?

- They were closed, but I got you this.



    

                   

- Art.

- Yes, they reopened it last year.



    

                   

Doesn't add up.



    

                   

He's going to steal them in full view

on the busiest night of the year?



    

                   

- You should get some sleep, boss.



    

                   

I know.

I know I should.



    

                   

- What the fuck are you doing?



    

                   

Hey, what's up, guys?



    

                   

Nothing lately.



    

                   

Sorry. Complications.

But better late than never.



    

                   

Bertram, you have a place a guy could sleep

or is it only twin beds?



    

                   

- I spoke to the casino,

and the manager had no worries.



    

                   

He said the originals are quite secure

at a different location.



    

                   

- The originals, huh?

- Yeah, in a vault at Villa St. Pierre.



    

                   

- The ones in the casino are copies for display.

- Oh, my God. It's a fake.



    

                   

Yes, they're all fakes.

Pathetic, isn't it?



    

                   

- No, it's beautiful.

- The fakes?



    

                   

- Anne.

- Hmm.



    

                   

Do you know the first thing

to learn about gambling?



    

                   

- What?

- Clothes.



    

                   

He or she should always

look their best.



    

                   

- And we don't quite make it.

- No.



    

                   

So, let's go shopping.



    

                   

What about this?



    

                   

Turn around.



    

                   

Divine.



    

                   

The best disguise in the world:

Tuxedo and some gel.



    

                   

Albert, you got some gel?



    

                   

- Gel.

- Thank you.



    

                   

Gel is essential

when things get complicated.



    

                   

There.



    

                   

- We could almost be triplets.

- Hmm.



    

                   

- And do you know the second thing?

- Tell me.



    

                   

- Gambling and dope don't mix.

- The third?



    

                   

Always play the game to the limit.

Damn the consequences.



    

                   

Two teams. Six cars in the trap.

I take the villa. You take the casino.



    

                   

- And be diplomatic

with those monkeys in Monaco.

- What about Bob?



    

                   

You'll find him playing the tables,

expecting me to tail him.



    

                   

- Just don't let him leave.

- Do I arrest him?



    

                   

For playing roulette?



    

                   

She had a bad end, Mimi.



    

                   

But then tell me an opera

that has a happy ending.



    

                   

- She died?

- Uh-huh.



    

                   

Anne.



    

                   

You're gonna see

fake glamor...



    

                   

serious money, and a lot

of bad plastic surgery.



    

                   

But remember, the dice

falls the same for all of them.



    

                   

- That's lesson number four?

- Five and six.



    

                   

- Hey, where is Paulo?

- Paulo shot a snitch

and had to run to San Remo.



    

                   

- Do you think he got there, honey?

- I sincerely hope so.



    

                   

Nothing we can do, Raoul, but play our parts,

and my part was to gamble. So let's gamble.



    

                   

Where the fuck's Paulo?



    

                   

Hey, so just

how fucked is it?



    

                   

- Don't know yet.

- Do we call it off?



    

                   

- It's too late for that.

How do we play this one, Anne?

- To the limit, I think?



    

                   

You heard that, Raoul... to the limit.

Let's get some chips.



    

                   

- Cover the grounds. Check all the exits.



    

                   

Go, go, go, go!



    

                   

No dead bodies tonight.



    

                   

Do you know

what a prime is, Anne?



    

                   

- A number divisible by itself and one.

- You remembered. I'm touched.



    

                   

- Don't play them tonight.

- Why not?



    

                   

- It's my birthday. I'm not a prime anymore.

-



    

                   

- Yes!



    

                   

You broke it, Bob...

your losing streak.



    

                   

Lesson number seven, Anne,

and don't take it the wrong way.



    

                   

Displays of emotion

are kept to a minimum.



    

                   

Thank you.



    

                   

There.



    

                   

There are plainclothes cops

all over, but nothing of Roger.



    

                   

- Someone's been singing, Bob.

- Yes, but I don't know what tune.



    

                   

I could check out the villa.

If I see cops on the gate...



    

                   

If you check out the villa,

you'll invite cops to the gate.



    

                   

Your choice, Raoul.



    

                   

- Round she goes.

Where she ends, no one knows.

- Hmm.



    

                   

I was right, you know... first time I met you.



    

                   

Lucky eyes:

One brown, one green.



    

                   

- Should I get contacts?

- Mm-mm. Never.



    

                   

Fucking Paulo.

Fucking spiders.



    

                   

- We've got infrared sensors reading...



    

                   

every centimeter down there.



    

                   

If a fly buzzes in, the alarm sounds.

Seven digital cameras.



    

                   

He'll have gotten round your sensors

and gotten round your damn cameras.



    

                   

And the only question is

where he's comin' in from.



    

                   

- Let's go downstairs.

- I'll have to disarm the system.



    

                   

You're not listening.

I think you'll find he's done that for you.



    

                   

- How much do you owe the cubist?

- One and a half million francs.



    

                   

- Have you a long way to go, Bob?

- Rule number eight. Never tempt fate.



    

                   

We win.



    

                   

- Every Alarm in the building

should be screaming by now.



    

                   

That's technology for you...

always lets you down.



    

                   

And I bet he can't see us

on his monitors upstairs.



    

                   

I think we've got a problem.



    

                   

My God.



    

                   

That doesn't let you down.



    

                   

It would almost

have been worth it, Bob.



    

                   

- Who the fuck is Bob?

- Shh.



    

                   

Hello. Hello. Can you hear me?



    

                   

Can you hear me?

Can you hear me?



    

                   

Can you hear me?

Hello.



    

                   

Hello? They're coming from underneath.

Check beneath the vault.



    

                   

Call your men

from the casino immediately.



    

                   

- Another lesson.

- What number is this?



    

                   

Doesn't matter. Always tip.



    

                   

Private rooms.



    

                   

It is not looking good, pal.



    

                   

- Fuck. Fuck!



    

                   

- Aaah! What the fuck?

- Ow.!



    

                   

- Can't get through the pipe!

- Did you take care of that faucet?



    

                   

- Does it fucking look like it?

- The fucking gas!



    

                   

I smell gas.



    

                   

- Get out of here!



    

                   

- That's not quite Bob's style.

- What the fuck is Bob's style?



    

                   

Somewhat more elegant.



    

                   

Get in the car!



    

                   

- Where is Philippa?

- Fuck Philippa. Go!



    

                   

Fucking spiders.



    

                   

Hey, what's wrong

with spiders?



    

                   

Fucking spiders

made it all go boom.



    

                   

- Boom, huh?

- Boom, fucking boom!



    

                   

What we have is a full house.



    

                   

- We wanna bet        francs.

It pays    to one.

- Yeah.



    

                   

That's   million francs

we just won.



    

                   

Take this million francs, put it on the ante,

and watch his face.



    

                   

Check all cars in and out of Monte Carlo.



    

                   

They're looking for burned hair

and singed eyebrows. I'm going to the casino.



    

                   

- Casinos?

- Someone has to tell him he's blown it.



    

                   

That's the manager.



    

                   

Bon soir, monsieur.



    

                   

Last call.



    

                   

- Says who?

- It's almost daylight.



    

                   

- Rosy-fingered dawn.



    

                   

- The house must retire.

- The house sleepy?



    

                   

Cash, if you please.

Large denominations.



    

                   

- And it's getting late.

-



    

                   

- The last rule.

- What?



    

                   

If you're gonna win big,

do it with a girl called Anne.



    

                   

- Okay?

- Hmm.



    

                   

- You had a good night, my friend?

- Exceptional. And you?



    

                   

- Well, exceptional too. I crashed a party.

- What kind of a party?



    

                   

Well, a boom-fucking-boom one.

I apprehended a transvestite...



    

                   

who had an interest in art and all along...



    

                   

The safe is empty.



    

                   

- I could accept a post-dated check.



    

                   

- Tell him again, will you?

- Well, it seems someone cracked the safe.



    

                   

Tell him, hey, of all nights,

just my luck.



    

                   

- And I am awaiting legal advice.

- How long must we wait?



    

                   

- I have a meeting in Paris.

- Shall we speed things up and arrest you now?



    

                   

- Me? On what charges?

- Criminal conspiracy.



    

                   

- Criminal conspiracy

can be hard to prove.

- Impossible in my case.



    

                   

I've been here all evening.

Look at that crowd.



    

                   

All witnesses to my presence.

My behavior? Impeccable, I would say.



    

                   

And to my luck, there hasn't been

a run of luck like that in Monte Carlo...



    

                   

since Joseph Jaggers

broke the bank in     .



    

                   

-      sir.

- There's one way, of course,

the management could avoid paying.



    

                   

- What are you implying, sir?

- It's unthinkable that a casino

would empty its own safe.



    

                   

- Its reputation...

- Its reputation is without peer.



    

                   

- And your implication is beneath contempt.

- As I said, unthinkable.



    

                   

- We will insist on a full investigation.

- You certainly should.



    

                   

I mean, I would

if I was in your situation.



    

                   

- Would you kindly put a "zock" in it, sir?

- A "zock"?



    

                   

Put "zit"

in this mouth of yours.



    

                   

Oh, you mean I should retire with my winnings

and keep my mouth shut?



    

                   

- I mean shut the fuck up.

- Mmm.



    

                   

Anne?



    

                   

- Wow!

- Ah, fuck!



    

                   

- Yes! Yes! So, tell me again.

Which twin are you?

- The identical one.



    

                   

- And which share do you get?

- He gets mine. I get his.



    

                   

Do you always

share this way?



    

                   

- Sharin' means carin'.

- Okay, okay!



    

                   

- Hey, you won, you lunatic.



    

                   

It's not about winning, Roger.

It's about attitude.



    

                   

Win or lose, you gotta

do 'em both with grace.



    

                   

- You learn that in recovery?

- Change the things you can.

Accept the things you can't.



    

                   

And learn the wisdom

to know the difference.



    

                   

Ah, so, what's the difference between

a run of luck and a casino heist?



    

                   

Then again, Roger,

there are some eventualities...



    

                   

that recovery

doesn't prepare you for.



    

                   

No. No, no.

No difference, Bob.



    

                   

- Very little, if you think about it.

- Well...



    

                   

there'll be an investigation,

and I'll have to insist you stay in France.



    

                   

- I'll never leave France.

- It could take some time.



    

                   

- You'll have to talk to my lawyer.

- Who's your lawyer?



    

                   

Have you any suggestions?



    

                   

I have a friend of yours in custody

who'll need the best that money can buy.



    

                   

I'd be careful, Roger. With this much money

she could sue you for damages.



    

                   

Mm-hmm?



    

                   

Yeah, yeah, yeah. You made it up to me.

Now, get off the phone. Yeah.



    

                   

- You don't want to talk to Paulo, right?

- No.



    

                   

- Tell him he doesn't live up

to my ideal of manhood.

- Is there anyone who does?



    

                   

- Yeah.

- Who?



    

                   

- My father.

- Oh.



    

                   

He was a circus strong man.



    

                   

He used to hang my mother from a high wire,

suspended from his teeth.



    

                   

- Then one day his teeth broke.

- And?



    

                   

She got two false legs,

and he got two false teeth.



    

                   

You're bullshitting me.



    

                   

- You sure?



    

                   

Yes.



    

                   

You know, my mother was a rodeo queen,

and she used to wrangle bulls...









  

  

 
Special help by SergeiK