There are over 550 million firearms in world-wide circulation.
That's one firearm for every twelve people on the planet.
The only question is...
how do we arm the other eleven?
You don't have to worry.
I'm not gonna tell you a pack of lies to make me look good.
I'm just gonna tell you what happened.
My name is Yuri Orlov.
When I was a boy, my family came to America...
but not all the way.
Like most Ukrainians, we gathered in Brighton Beach.
It reminded us of the Black Sea.
I soon realized we'd just swapped one hell for another.
Even in hell, an angel sometimes makes an appearance.
I'd worshipped Ava Fontaine since I was 10 years old.
Of course, she didn't know I existed.
I was starting to think she had a point.
For the first twenty-odd years of my life...
...Little Odessa was to me what it is to the Q train...
...the end of the line.
"Little Odessa," New York - 1982
Oh, I did lie about my name.
It's not really Yuri Orlov.
There've been few occasions in the in the 20th century...
when it's been an advantage be a Jew.
But in the 'seventies, to escape the Soviet Union,
our family pretended to be Jewish.
Little about my life has been kosher ever since.
How's it going, brother?
It's not.
That's Vitaly, my younger brother.
He was as lost as me.
He didn't know it yet.
Yuri, you're late.
My father took his assumed identity to heart.
He was more Jewish than most Jews,...
which drove my Catholic mother crazy.
How many times?
I can't eat shellfish.
It's treyf.
You're not Jewish.
I like it.
I like the hat.
To remind us there is something above us.
I like that.
I'm going to temple.
You're not going to temple.
You go to temple more than the rabbi.
Yuri, don't forget to check the specials at the Palace.
Growing up in Little Odessa,
murder was everyday part of life.
Russian mobsters had also migrated from the Soviet Union
and when they came to America, their baggage came with them.
There was always some gangster getting whacked in my neighborhood,
but I'd never seen it with my own eyes.
I had this knack of showing up five minutes before something lied down,
or five minutes after.
Not that day.
It hit me.
It couldn't have hit me harder if I was the one who'd been shot.
You go into the restaurant business...
because people are always going to have to eat.
That was the day I realized my destiny...
...lay in fulfilling another basic human need.
The next Sabbath, I went to temple with my father.
However, it wasn't God I was trying to get close to.
Eli, my eldest son, Yuri.
my contact at synagogue landed me...
my first Israeli-made Uzi submachine guns.
The first time you sell a gun is a lot like the first time you have sex.
You have absolutely no idea what you're doing, but it is exciting.
And one way or another, it's over way too fast.
Gentlemen.
The new Uzi machine pistol. Big firepower in a small package.
This little baby uses 9 mm hollow points.
Twenty twenty-five round extendable mags rear-flip adjustable sights.
Silencer comes standard. Excellent recoil reduction.
Muzzle jump reduced forty percent. Sixty percent improved noise suppression.
You could pump a mag into me right now
and never wake the guy in the next room.
Of course, that would eliminate your opportunity for repeat business.
I did have a natural instinct for smuggling contraband.
Fortunately, back then a video camera was a big as a bazooka.
Here I'd been running away from violence my whole life, and I should've run towards it.
It's in our nature.
The earliest human skeletons had spearheads in their rib cages.
Where have you been?
What if we had a customer?
God bless America.
Yeah?
Beware of the dog? You don't have a dog.
Are you trying to scare people?
No, it's to scare me.
Remind me to be aware of the dog in me.
The dog wants to fuck everything that moves,...
wants to fight and kill weaker dogs.
I guess it's to remind me to be more human.
Isn't being a dog part of being human?
What if that's the best part of you? The dog part.
What if you're really just a two-legged dog?
You need to see somebody.
Stinks in here.
I'd always wanted to do something big with my life.
I just didn't know what.
Anyhow, I figured, if I was going into the gun trade,
I was going aim high.
Vitaly, stop fucking around. I want to talk to you.
You read the newspapers, Vit?
Newspaper? It's always the same.
You're right.
Every day there's people shooting each other.
You know what I do when I see that?
I look to see what guns they're using...
and I think to myself, why not my guns?
What, are you opening a gun shop?
Already more of those in than McDonald's.
Even with all the gangsters around here, the margins are too low.
- You've figured the margins? - Sure.
Forget gang wars.
The real money is in actual wars between countries.
Yuri, what the fuck do you know about guns?
I know which end I'd rather be on.
I made the first sale.
We're already in business.
Whoa, whoa. We?
I need a partner.
I don't know.
I don't know, Yuri. I don't know.
Vitaly, I've tasted your borscht. You're no fucking chef.
I can eat in the restaurant for free and I still don't eat there.
Fuck you.
We're doing nothing with our lives.
I mean, this is shit!
This is shit!
It's true.
But maybe doing nothing's better than doing this.
I need you.
Sir, may I interest you in the shoulder-fired SA-7 surface-to-air missiles?
The older Chinese model.
Not so effective against modern military aircraft, ...
but deadly, if used against a commercial airliner.
I'm giving them away at 850.
In the '80s, and the Cold War was far from thawed
Most of the deals were government-to-government.
It was a mostly private club with a lifetime club president.
- That's him. - The big shot?
Simeon Weisz. Angola, Mozambique.
those Exocet missiles in the Falklands.
He was selling guns before there was gunpowder.
Be right back.
Mr. Weisz? Mr. Weisz!
It's okay. They're talking.
- May I help? - Yes.
A mutual friend, Eli Kurtzman, from Brighton Beach Import & Export said to contact you.
I have a business proposal and I thought perhaps we could discuss it.
I don't think you and I are in the same business.
You think I just sell guns, don't you?
I don't. I take sides.
But in the Iran-Iraq war you sold guns to both sides.
Did you ever consider that I wanted both sides to lose?
Bullets change governments far surer than votes.
You're in the wrong place, my young friend.
This is no place for amateurs.
Curiously how you always revert to your native tongue in moments of extreme anger...
and ecstasy.
You are beautiful.
What's your name again?
The only option for Vitaly and me was under-the-counter gunrunning.
Beirut, Lebanon - 1984
I got my first break in Lebanon after the suicide bombing.
But I wasn't the only local kid making good.
When the United States leaves a war zone, they generally don't take their munitions.
It costs more to bring it back than to buy new stock.
So, we sell by the kilo.
They're secondhand weapons, but they're still okay.
How many kilos would you like?
Five thousand.
I had a flair for languages...
...but I soon discovered that what talks best is dollars, dinars...
...drachmas, rubles, rupees, and pounds-fucking-sterling.
Of course, the U.S. Army got a piece of the action.
Army salaries were no better then than they are today.
And some of the brass, like Lieutenant Colonel Southern...
needed to raise money for their own private wars.
Good to make your acquaintance.
This is bullshit money, Vit.
This is small-fucking-potatoes.
- What do you want to do, go more legit? - No, more illegal.
What I would give right now for cabbage and potatoes.
It's not our fight.
Vit, come on!
Let's go. Come on.
Selling guns is like selling vacuum cleaners.
You make calls, pound the pavement, take orders.
I was an equal opportunity merchant of death.
I supplied every army but the Salvation Army.
I sold Israeli-made Uzis to Muslims.
The best thing in life for free.
I sold communist-made bullets to fascists.
I even shipped cargo to Afghanistan when they were still fighting my fellow Soviets.
I never sold to Osama Bin Laden.
Not on any moral grounds.
Back then, he was always bouncing checks.
By the mid-'80s, my weapons were represented in eight of the world's top ten war zones.
There's no problem leading a double life.
It's the triple and quadruple lives that get you in the end.
Back then, I carried a French, British, Israeli, and Ukrainian passport...
and a student visa for the U.S., but that's another story.
I also packed six different briefcases, depending on who I was that day...
and the region of the world I was visiting.
North of Cartagena, Colombia - 1989
Without operations like mine,...
it would be impossible for certain countries to conduct a respectable war.
I was able to navigate around those inconvenient little arms embargoes.
There are three basic types of arms deal.
White, being legal.
Black, being illegal,
and my personal favorite color, gray.
Sometimes I made the deal so convoluted...
it was hard for me to work out if they were on the level.
To keep authorities in the dark, I often spoke in code.
Rocket launchers were "mothers." The rockets, "children."
The AK-47 assault rifle was the "Angel King."
It's Yuri.
Yeah. Well, Raoul...
Raoul, the Angel King will arrive tomorrow.
Hallelujah to you, too.
The point is, if I've done my job right...
an arms embargo should be practically impossible to enforce.
What?
Okay, just slow the fuck down.
I can't understand you.
Wha-What do you mean, tipped off?
They know where we are?
Well, where are they?
Well, how long have I got?
Not long?
What does that mean? Shit!
- Do we try to lose them? - On this?
Yuri, we have to get off this thing.
No. No one's going anywhere.
Slow, dead slow. Buy me time.
Yeah, it's Yuri.
Get that fucking rag down!
I need another handle for this tub. Something in our weight class.
You! Over the side. We're changing the name.
Now!
Yes, it's got to check out.
The way I look at it, what's in a name?
Have you got a shorter name?
I'd often changed the registration of a ship or a plane...
...but never on such short notice.
Damn! They're hauling.
What? Kono? How do you spell that?
K-O-N-O, okay, well, that's good.
Kono, K-O-N-O.
What are we flying? Dutch? Got it.
Vit, get me a Dutch flag, will you?
Faster! Or I'll send your ass in!
- Yuri, I don't have Dutch! - What?
- I've got Belgian. - What the fuck use is that?
He's painting a name registered in the fucking Netherlands.
I've got a French flag.
So?
Turn it sideways. It's Dutch.
That's why you're my brother.
All right, good! Everybody look innocent now.
They say every man has his price,...
but not every man gets it.
Interpol Agent Jack Valentine couldn't be bought.
At least, not with money.
For Jack, glory was the prize.
Yeah, it's the Kono; it's not the Kristol.
Kono, K-O-N-O.
It's clean, sir.
It's clean? It sure doesn't look clean.
I'm going to go aboard.
Phone in a sighting of the Kristol south of Aruba.
Even when I was up against an overzealous agent...
...I had a number of methods for discouraging a search.
I routinely mislabeled my arms shipments "Farm Machinery."
And I have yet to meet the lowly paid customs official...
who will open a container marked "Radioactive Waste" to verify its contents.
But my personal favorite is the unique combination...
of week-old potatoes and tropical heat.
Smells.
Sir, Sighting of the Kristol, due north.
Most importantly, I kept a number of intelligence people...
on the payroll to supply their colleagues with counterintelligence.
Let's go.
The second rule of gunrunning is:
Always ensure you have a foolproof way to get paid.
Preferably in advance ideally to an off-shore account.
That's why I chose my customers so carefully.
Say what you like about warlords and dictators...
they tend to have a highly developed sense of order.
They always pay their bills on time.
What the fuck are you doing?
- Fuck you! - Fuck you!
No, Vit!
The first and most important rule of gunrunning...
is never get shot with your own merchandise.
Are you okay?
I think so.
So what do we do now?
Let's celebrate.
That narco guerilla had his facts right.
After shipping it stateside, the return on that blow...
netted me a healthy profit.
It would have been even better, except one kilo never made it back.
Vitaly?
Vit!
To this day I don't know what Vitaly was running away from.
Maybe just from Vitaly.
I found him twelve days, two thousand miles, ...
and one hundred and fifty grams later in a Bolivian boarding house.
Of course, my dream girl had gone there before me.
Come on!
Yuri.
It's my brother, Yuri.
He's my big brother.
What the fuck is that?
Ukraine.
I was young, but I remember.
Look... I start in Odessa, right?
And then I work my way to the Crimean
You'll be dead before you fucking reach Kiev!
We're going home. Come on.
You fuck! You fucking fuck!
You fucking fuck...
What the fuck is your problem?
Come on, Vit.
J.F.K. Airport, New York - 1989
- Yuri, it's so nice to be home. - Yeah, good work.
We're gonna get you home.
Come on.
St. Francis Rehabilitation Center
Get out of the car.
Vitaly, I need you to get out of the car.
I promised our parents.
Please.
Vitaly, you're going to have a great time.
This is a top place. Two Ford models checked in last week.
And that cute weather girl's been here since July.
Please.
Please, Yuri.
You're a good brother.
You're a good brother, Yuri.
- Okay. All right. - Good brother.
All right. Get out of the car.
- Okay. - Get out of the car.
From then on I was a one-man operation.
I never understood what separated...
the recreational drug user from the habitual.
But for the grace of God...
it could've been me snorting lines as long as the Belt Parkway.
However, I wasn't entirely free of the grip of addiction myself.
There she was again. Ava Fontaine.
In my neighborhood they say, "The good get out."
In our own ways, we'd both conquered the world.
St. Barts, French Caribbean - 1989
You can't force somebody to fall in love with you.
But you can definitely improve your odds.
It cost me 20 grand to book her for a fake photo shoot.
Another twelve to buy out the hotel.
Popular hotel, huh?
- Ava Fontaine. - Yuri Orlov.
What brings you to St. Barts?
Photo shoot. At least, that was the plan.
I guess the photographer got stuck in Miami.
Hurricane. Though there's nothing on the news.
Those things can come out of nowhere.
So... the job's been cancelled,...
and wouldn't you know it, there's no flight to New York until Tuesday.
You can hitch a ride with me if you like. I'm leaving tomorrow.
Meanwhile, why don't I take your picture?
In my experience,...
some of the most successful relationships are based on lies and deceit.
Since that's where they usually end up anyway...
it's a logical place to start.
Right there. Hold it there.
Oh, my God!
I nearly went broke trying to convince her I was anything but.
I knew Ava was not the kind of woman...
to be seduced by a ride in a private jet unless you owned the jet.
This is your plane?
That is my name.
Of course, I was lying.
The plane was rented, like the car and even the suit I was standing in.
At the last minute, I'd bribed the crew for the paint job.
Luckily, by the time we landed...
Ava wasn't looking anywhere but in my eyes.
I had no idea.
I'm sorry I didn't recognize you.
Don't apologize. I put clothes on for a living.
A least you're not taking them off.
I would be, if half the photographers had their way.
What about you?
I'm in transport.
International air freight, mostly.
Business is good.
Where're you from?
I was born in Ukraine, but I grew up in Brooklyn.
No.
What, you too?
Williamsburg.
Here's to a hurricane.
Without it, I never would have met you.
This is no accident, is it, Yuri?
It feels like fate.
I don't believe in fate.
What do you believe in?
Is that a view, or is that a view?
That's a view.
Thank you. Thank you all.
Congratulations.
Thanks.
Always remember, son. There is something above you.
Sure, Dad.
A forty-thousand-dollar crystal chandelier.
Make yourselves at home.
Go!
I'm sorry. Today must be tough.
It'd be nice to have a couple more guests from my side of the family.
I'm sure they're watching right now.
Thank you.
But you don't believe that, Yuri...
...remember?
I know you, Yuri.
I know you're not everything you seem.
Don't worry, I won't ask a lot of questions.
I don't want to hear you lie.
You take risks.
Just promise me you won't risk us.
That's the trouble with falling in love with a dream girl.
They have a habit of becoming real.
I've never been so glad to see Vitaly.
You're fucking beautiful!
Brother...
Brother, thank you so much...
for giving me such a beautiful sister.
He was out of rehab, and out of his mind.
Dance! Dance! We have to dance!
All right, all right It's a wedding, a celebration
To Yuri!
For once, he rescued me.
New York - December 25, 1991
I was still living way beyond my means.
Mortgaged to the hilt, using one credit card to pay another.
Anything to keep Ava in the style,...
to which she had thanks largely to me, become accustomed.
Ava
Ava, this is too much.
Yuri likes to spoil you.
Then suddenly, all my Christmases came at once.
Nicki, you did it! Good boy!
That's my grandson!
Yuri, don't you want to see what your son is doing?
Whoever said it's better to give than receive never got a Christmas present...
like the one I got in 1991 from Mikhail Gorbachev.
What the hell's the matter?
It's over! It's over!
What's over?
The Cold-fucking-War! The Soviet-fucking Union.
The Evil fucking-Empire! Mikhail's saying no mas.
He's throwing in the towel. It's over!
Your son is walking.
That's incredible, honey.
At least they'll get religious freedom.
Let's hope so.
I think I'll go back for a visit.
Do you stay in touch with Uncle Dmitri?
I'm not a fool, Yuri.
I don't think you're going to Odessa to sell Pepsi-Cola.
Is this how you want to be remembered?
I don't want to be remembered at all.
If I'm being remembered, it means I'm dead.
Merry-fucking-Christmas!
Who is this, Vitaly?
I'm Angel.
Her name really is Angel.
She's a fairy.
Let's put her on top of the Christmas tree.
Come on
I love you.
Come on.
I love you all.
Take this.
I'm going back to Ukraine.
I miss Odessa.
- I miss you. - I miss you.
Be careful, Yuri. Those things you sell kill.
Inside.
You're high.
That's true.
Hello, Christian.
Odessa, Ukraine - 1992
During the Cold War, the Red Army stationed nearly one million troops in Ukraine...
because of its strategic military importance.
The day after The Wall came down...
the paychecks stopped coming.
There's nothing better for an arms dealer...
the combination of disgruntled soldiers and warehouses full of weapons.
I was hoping Major General Dmitri Volkoff...
would open a lot of armory doors in a lot of military bases.
For a start, he was family.
He was a highly decorated hero of the Red Army,
and he was almost permanently shit-faced
I can't just sell you government property, Yuri.
I have to report.
Report to who? Moscow?
As of last week Moscow's in a foreign country.
New flag, new boss.
There is no new boss yet.
They're all too busy squabbling over
who's gonna get the presidential holiday home at the Black Sea.
It's beautiful.
The ones who know don't care any more and the ones who care don't know.
Show me your inventory.
Those 45 years of mutual hatred between the East and the West...
had generated the highest weapons buildup in history.
The Soviets had guns coming out of the demon hole.
Huge stockpiles, and now no enemy.
How many Kalashnikovs do you have?
Forty thousand.
Is that a four?
It doesn't look like a four to me.
It's more like a one.
No, it's a four.
It's whatever we say it is,
because no one else will know the difference.
Ten thousand Kalashnikovs for a battalion.
Your stocks are dangerously depleted, Dmitri.
You should order more from the factory.
Someone will work it out.
What happens then?
We'll cut them in.
The end of the Cold War...
was the beginning of the hottest time in arms dealing.
The arms bazaar was open.
Guided missiles, unguided missiles.
Mortars, mines, armored personnel carriers. Whole tank divisions.
I even landed a squadron of helicopter gunships.
The most sophisticated fighting machines...
built for a war with America that never happened.
Thanks to me, they'd finally get to fire a shot in anger.
I have a feeling it wasn't exactly what Comrade Lenin had in mind...
when he advocated the redistribution of wealth.
But I wasn't the only one offering a crash course in capitalism.
I had rivals.
Inform your commanding officer that Simeon Weisz is here to meet him.
You don't know who I am, do you?
His papers.
You're late.
So it appears.
You look a little lost, Simeon.
Is the world changing too fast?
I'm here, aren't I?
Not all of you, I think.
You've gotten so rich selling for the CIA
you can't seem to get that ideology completely out of your head.
Oh, the Cold War had its uses.
Kept the tensions frozen.
Now it's harder to determine which side one's on.
Things have become more complicated.
No, it's gotten simpler.
There's no place in gunrunning for politics any more, Simeon.
I sell to leftists and rightists.
I sell to pacifists, but they're not the most regular of customers.
Of course, you're not a true internationalist...
...until you've supplied weapons to kill your own countrymen.
This current state of chaos won't last forever.
There'll have to be order.
Instead of cutting each other's throats, it may be beneficial if we work together.
What do you think?
What do I think? I think you are the amateur now,...
and I think you should go with your instincts.
With your first instinct.
I'm the same man who was not good enough for you before...
and I'm just not good enough for you now.
The problem with gunrunners going to war
is that there's no shortage of ammunition.
This was the chaos that the Old Guard had always feared.
As far as they were concerned, I was giving arms dealers a bad name.
But they could hardly report me to the Better Business Bureau.
And Ukraine wasn't the only former state with an unpaid army and stockpiles of guns.
There was Bulgaria, Hungary, Poland, Belarus...
all there for the taking.
Of all the weapons in the vast Soviet arsenal...
nothing was more profitable than Avtomat Kalashnikova, model of 1947,
more commonly known as the AK-47... or kalashnikov.
It's the world's most popular assault rifle, a weapon all fighters love.
An elegantly simple nine-pound amalgamation of forged steel and plywood.
It doesn't break, jam, or overheat.
It will shoot whether it's covered in mud or filled with sand.
It's so easy, even a child can use it.
And they do.
The Soviets put the gun on a coin.
Mozambique put it on their flag.
Since the end of the Cold War,
the Kalashnikov has become the Russian people's greatest export.
After that comes vodka, caviar, and suicidal novelists.
One thing's for sure.
No one was lining up to buy their cars.
I thought you supposed watching out for these people.
How can I?
You keep selling my helicopters.
You are too greedy, Yuri!
I can't hold him forever.
I've got paperwork.
Not for the gunships.
You know the penalty for sanction-busting.
Selling the military helicopter is a major violation.
Military helicopter.
It's not a military helicopter.
It's a rescue helicopter.
Get to work, son.
The law's on our side.
All right, let me see your papers.
No-no-no, put that away.
See your papers.
Yuri Orlov.
Mr. Orlov, always in the wrong place at the right time.
We've met before.
Off the coast Colombia.
What was the name of that freighter?
I can't remember, was it the Kono or the Kristol?
The crew called that vessel a lot of names.
None repeatable in polite company.
Answer the question.
The new MP-5.
Would you like a silencer for that?
I need to see your papers.
Dmitri!
The end-user certificate for this aircraft... states "Burkina Faso."
Nice, very nice.
Did you type this up yourself?
The helicopter is to be used on humanitarian missions.
Oh, so you're a humanitarian?
Oh, absolutely.
This is a military aircraft.
- Not any more. - Listen to the nephew!
What can they do with military hardware but convert it to civilian use?
The only way you could die from this baby now is if a food drop hits you.
And this stuff over here, huh?
Is it going to Burkina Faso... Ah,
but to a different client at a different address.
That's just a coincidence. Is that it?
Do you take me for a complete fucking fool?
Not complete, sir.
And while I hesitate to tell your job.
I must point out that when shipped separately,...
the weapons and the aircraft both comply with current Interpol trade standards and practices.
We both know that is an obscene bureaucratic loophole...
that's gonna be closed any goddamn day.
But it's not closed.
And while certain people might interpret this cargo as suspicious,...
thank God we live in a world where suspicion alone does not constitute a crime.
And for men like you respect the rule of law.
I was as guilty as it seemed, but Valentine couldn't prove it.
And he was the rarest breed of law enforcement officer,
the type who knew I was breaking the law, but wouldn't break it himself to bust me.
TWO DAYS LATER
Valentine wasn't the only one trying to put me out of business.
My uncle had turned down a half dozen rival arms dealers,
sometimes with offers better than mine.
But to Dmitri, you couldn't put a price on loyalty.
What was he doing here?
He is hoping to beat your offer.
I told him to go have intercourse with himself.
But Yuri
you need to make more payoffs.
Too many know. Don't worry.
There are more VCRs and cigarettes. I left them in your new car.
Even your enemy was admiring that car.
I'm the luckiest man alive.
You are.
Hello.
Ava?
Hi, baby.
You forgot what time it is?
Sorry, I...
How was that, your audition?
They're going in another direction...
direction with someone who can act.
They don't deserve you.
Where are you?
Is everything okay?
It was a rough day at the office.
Come home.
Soon. How's Nicki?
He misses you. We both do.
It's lonely without you here.
You know I don't like nights, ever since my parents...
Yuri, what's that?
A party.
I'd better go.
Just wanted to call and hear your voice.
Kiss Nicki for me.
I love you.
The pillaging didn't die with my uncle.
After The Wall came down...
$32 billion billion dollars worth of arms were stolen and resold from Ukraine alone,
one of the greatest heights of the 20th Century.
Monrovia, Liberia - 1995
The primary market was Africa.
Eleven major conflicts involving thirty-two countries in less than a decade...
A gunrunner's wet dream.
At the time, the West couldn't care less.
They had a white war in what was left of Yugoslavia.
I did the bulk of my business in Liberia...
"Land of the Free"
Originally established as a homeland for freed American slaves,
it's been enslaved by one dictator or another ever since.
The latest was American-educated, self declared president, Andre Baptiste.
Mr. Yuri!
I'm Andre Baptiste, Junior.
My father would like to meet you.
What an honor.
Thank him, but unfortunately I have other business.
It's a shame. It's a very busy schedule.
It is not, as they say, optional.
My father is easily offended.
My schedule just freed up.
President Baptiste was my best customer but I was in no hurry to meet him.
He'd gotten a reputation for routinely hacking off the limbs of those who opposed him.
His seven-year civil war has been described as...
"a relentless campaign of sadistic wanton violence."
That kind of sums up Andy for me.
The Glock is interesting.
It's made of a polymer composite.
Many of my clients feel they can get through airport security
without setting off a lot of bells and whistles.
Personally I do not recommend that.
On the other hand, if you are looking for a traditional wheel gun,
there is no substitute for the six inches of muzzle energy of a.357 magnum.
And of course, it will never jam.
Why did you do that?
What did you say?
Now you'll have to buy it.
It's a used gun.
How can I sell a used gun?
A used gun.
That's a good one.
You know there is no discipline with the youth today.
I try to set an example but it is difficult, eh?
Personally, I blame MTV.
A used gun.
I think you and I, we can do business.
If I thought I was scared of Andre Senior,
I knew I was scared of Andre Junior.
Like father, like son.
The guava doesn't fall too far from the tree.
He was also a cannibal.
They say Andre would eat a victim's heart while it was still beating
to give him superhuman strength.
Monrovia itself was like being on another planet.
Planet Monrovia.
From the temperature, it was obviously a planet close to the sun.
I rarely saw another white man,
and I never left town alone.
Outside town was the edge of hell.
I didn't want to even gaze into it.
This is your hotel. Two stars.
Can you bring me the gun of Rambo?
Part one, two, or three?
I've only seen part one.
The M-60.
Would you like the armor-piercing bullets?
Please.
My father left a welcoming present in your room.
Enjoy.
My God, she nearly got her head cut off.
When I get to America,
I will not live in Brentwood.
Second floor.
In the most AIDS-infested region of the globe...
where one in four is infected...
Andre's idea of a joke was...