- Synced and corrected by chamallow - - www.addic7ed.com -
[Siren wailing in distance]
[Door opens]
It's a funny thing, Bud.
Always up for a joke, Jimmy. Tell.
The funeral director who was supposed to take care of Paulie
came back from the Cook County morgue empty-handed.
- No? - Mm.
He said the body had already been claimed and taken away.
No.
Now, I'm no attorney...
Well, you're many things, Jimmy.
But that you're not.
But my understanding of the law is that a dead body
can only be legally claimed
by the deceased's immediate family
- or their appointed representative. - Hmm.
Well, that sounds appropriately convoluted for the law.
So you can imagine my bafflement
seeing Paulie in state here at McAuley's pub.
It pays to have friends, Jimmy.
Well, you should know, Bud.
You pay to have them.
[Laughs]
Let me buy you a drink, son.
In honor of our dear departed Paulie.
What's your poison?
[Woman wailing]
I don't recognize the moaning woman.
Is she, uh, family?
A professional mourner.
Good, huh?
A bean chaointe, a keening woman.
Mm.
Is that Gaelic?
No, Jimmy. I believe this moaning woman
moans the dark tongue.
So, is this a traditional Irish wake or just your ideal one?
Death needs to be mocked, Jimmy.
And in the world according to Big Bud O'Rourke, why is that?
Because death is an unrelenting, unforgiving son of a bitch.
Like you.
Like me.
Kind of poorly attended for a wake, though.
The evening is young.
Give it time.
Here's to you, Bud.
When you put your mind to something,
you don't mess around.
In fact...
From what you and your hired goons
put me through the past 18 years,
I can personally attest
you are a true artiste.
And you're my masterpiece, Jimmy.
So, is this work in progress gonna go on forever?
We'll start the show when the audience arrives.
- We're putting on a show, are we? - Ah.
Comedy? Tragedy?
Depends on the part you play.
♪ I got one hand on my heart, now ♪
♪ the other's on a gun ♪
♪ the city burns to ashes ♪
♪ in the house of the rising sun ♪
[Irish folk music plays]
Thank you, Davey.
Is that Dave Finnegan?
He's on his fourth wife now.
The lucky bastard.
- We were rookies together. - Hello.
If you're waiting for Shelly and Katie to
join this farce, they're not coming.
You sure of that?
Shelly wants no part of this fucking charade.
A farce or a charade, son? Which is it?
Huh?
Maybe something different altogether.
Shelly wants nothing more to do with you ever, Bud.
So I'm not the only man at the family table
whose daughter disowned him.
Katie did not disown me.
Then why, pray tell,
now that Richie's permanently unavailable,
did she ask yours truly to walk her down the aisle?
Hmm?
Maybe our darling Katie
has good reason to believe that her old man
won't be around to fulfill that particular familial obligation.
As for Shelly, I called in a favor at the Justice Department.
She's out now.
- Just like that? - Oh.
It pays to have friends when friends pay you back.
In exchange for what?
Gratitude is not only the greatest of virtues,
but the parent of all others.
I believe your countryman Cicero said that.
No, Shelly will come around.
They always do.
You mean like your old mob buddies
that you went to prison to protect?
Did they throw you a welcome-home bash, Bud?
Or is this it?
I have a friend or two in the Justice Department myself.
Your old buddies put a hit out on you.
Did you know?
That choice tidbit was picked up on a wire
that Paulie here risked his life to wear.
Was it, now?
You got no currency with the bosses.
You played Richie like a fool.
It takes a fool to get fooled, son.
Imagine...
the very guys you've been protecting all these years
want you dead.
There's gratitude for you.
You're welcome for the heads up.
I didn't plead guilty to protect the bosses.
I pled guilty to protect my family.
Your wife killed herself.
Your daughter can't stand the sight of you.
And your grandson is dead.
Stunning legacy.
You son of a bitch.
[Music stops]
And now you're gonna waste me in front of all these people.
That's a lovely grace note to your stellar career, Bud.
It's decent of you to
fret about a sick old man being tossed back
into the shitter, Jimmy. But you really shouldn't.
Waste you?
- I'm out now. - [Music resumes]
And I plan to stay out.
- I'm retiring. - [Laughs]
My first day of freedom, I got properly laid
- and went to confession... in that order. - Mm. [Chuckles]
I would blame prison for turning you into an arrogant shit,
but I think you've been one all along, Bud.
Hm.
All right. [Clears throat] Here's the deal.
And in spite of your pessimistic assessment of my character,
I think you'll find me to be surprisingly generous
with this offering.
In honor of our dear departed Paulie here,
I plan to let you live out
the rest of your pathetic nonexistence on one condition.
All you have to do, Jimmy, is apologize to me.
And I'll make it easy for you.
I won't make you say you're sorry
for being the backstabbing fart knocker that you are
for sending me away,
for turning Shelly against me.
Hell, I won't even hold you accountable
for the death of my wife and my grandson.
Oh, gee, that's white of you, Bud.
Just two words, Jimmy...
"I'm sorry."
That's all you have to say.
And you'll let me walk out of here the way I walked in?
Uh, nobody who attends an authentic Irish wake
ever walks out the same way they walked in.
But, yeah, sure.
You say those two words,
and out you go. You're a free man.
Two words, and we part ways forever.
You go your way,
and I disappear.
Okay.
Fuck you.
I'm serious, Jimmy.
The chance to walk away
is more than you rightly deserve.
Okay, here's two more words, Bud...
- Fuck you! - [Crowd gasps]
Dig your own grave, Jimmy.
You're a fucking criminal, Bud!
I did my time.
We both did.
Don't you think it's high time us civilized
pagans forgive and forget?
Just because you surround yourself
with like-minded half-wits
who also happen to be fucking criminals
doesn't make you any less of one.
This really is your last chance, Jimmy.
I was wondering if... if... hoping, really,
that a long stretch in prison
might change you for the better. It didn't.
The last half ounce of respect I had for you is gone now
because you're simply too fucking stupid
and too fucking arrogant to admit what a miserable, corrupt
fuck you were, are, and always will be.
Proclaims St. Jimmy fucking Pariah,
the man with no friends.
How does it feel to be totally friendless, Jimmy?
I've always wondered.
Friends are overrated.
That's what poor men say about wealth.
Jesus had no friends in the end.
Fuck you and your sacrilegious pomposity.
Yeah fuck you for inventing it.
You bring out the worst in me, Bud.
You do.
Me and everyone you go near.
And that's what real corruption does.
It infects others, and eventually, it kills the host...
except in your case, it's taken a little longer than it should.
Bud: I think what we have here
is a serious difference of opinion about human nature.
I think we're devils, basically...
devils who are capable of acts of kindness,
forgiveness, grace even.
You, however, think we're angels...
angels who slip and fall...
And once fallen, no matter where our hearts are at,
must stay down for the count.
No, Bud. I think we choose
which of those two we want to be,
and we act accordingly.
You chose your path,
but you refuse to admit
that you could have chosen the alternative,
and for that reason alone, I will never apologize to you.
Apologize to you for what?!
- You broke the bond! - What bond?!
The bond between the Irish and the Italians!
That's a fucking fairy tale!
We swore a blood oath that we would never rat each other out.
[Sighs] You're a clown. You know that?
- Yeah? - Yeah.
A bleary-eyed, humpback, bog-hopping clown.
[Laughter]
- Am I, now? - Yes, you are.
Well, you are a feculent, pasta-loving,
- pope-worshiping turd. - [Laughter, clapping]
Is all this just for show,
or is there any real strength behind it?
There's only one way to find out, son.
[Cheers and applause]
[Up-tempo Irish folk music plays]
[Spectators clapping rhythmically]
[Spectators chanting indistinctly]
Are you playing with me?
- Come on, old man. Give it. - You got it, son.
[Chanting continues]
[Cheers and applause]
[Music ends]
[Breathes deeply]
[Up-tempo Irish folk music plays]
Towel!
[Spectators cheer]
Oh, oh, oh.
Oh.
Shelly: Dad!
- [Music stops] - Are you all right?
- Call 911! - No, no, no, no, no, no.
Don't you dare. It's a false alarm.
I'm fine. I'm fine.
- I'm fine. - Somebody help him.
- All right. - Help him.
Here. Ohh.
Oh, for Christ's sake, now, back off!
Yeah, yeah. Don't take all me fuckig air.
- Oh, Dad. Do you need a doctor? - No, no, no.
A few fingers of heart medicine will be just fine.
- Oh. - [Smooches]
Where's young McAuley, huh?
Top shelf?
Yeah. Cheers.
Ahh.
He's done in.
The fuck I am!
- He knows when he's beat. - The fuck I do!
- [Laughter] - Ladies and gentlemen,
Big Bud O'Rourke finally threw in the towel.
- [Cheers and applause] - No, no, no. No, I didn't. I didn't.
The new champion of the world.
[Laughs]
[Spectators cheering, clapping]
[Music resumes]
You.
What's this nonsense
about Big Bud walking you down the aisle?
I'm your father. That's my job.
And I got the towel to prove it.
[Groans]
This wedding of yours... it's still on, yeah?
Yeah. We set a new date.
And who will be giving you away?
You, Dad.
Bud will be heartbroken to hear it.
Nothing a few fingers of McAuley's top-shelf heart medicine won't fix.
- [Chuckles] - Bud: I heard that.
Yeah, Big Bud O'Rourke does not go down without a fight.
You put up a good fight. You went down.
- You're all done, old man. - Hey, hey, hey, hey.
Let's get you some air.
Come on. Let's go outside.
Dad.
[Music stops]
[Slow Irish folk music plays]
Sorry for your troubles.
[Sniffles] Sorry for yours.
Bud told me he pulled some strings to get you out.
[Scoffs]
That can't be a surprise.
You don't have to testify?
No.
Oh, don't give me that look.
- What? - The quid pro quo look.
[Breathes deeply]
He must have asked for something in return.
He wants to kiss and make up, Jimmy.
[Sighs]
He's dying.
That old faker will outlive us all.
He asked me to apologize to him.
He wants to make amends.
And he asked you to plead his case.
Don't do it for him.
Don't do it for me.
Do it for Katie...
For Paulie.
Do it for yourself, Jimmy.
[Siren wailing in distance]
Weather's changing, Katie.
It does that.
That's a nasty habit.
I know.
Send you to an early grave.
I know.
You should quit.
I tried.
[Inhales deeply]
[Exhales deeply]
You know, in Ireland,
they say that death is your third birthday.
The first is when you come screaming into the world.
The second is your baptism.
And the third is your send-off to the eternal life.
And that is a cause for celebration.
Do I strike you as the unforgiving type?
Yes.
Well, don't hold back.
I don't understand you two.
What's not to understand?
You and my dad... you...
You guys love each other.
I... I can see it.
So why do you guys hate each other's guts so?
Well,
I was never given the opportunity
to choose my own career, Katie.
My father made a deal with the Chicago Outfit
back in the '40s, and I was groomed
to be their inside man on the Chicago Police Department.
From day one,
I was tasked to
betray the public trust
and do their bidding.
And as the years went by,
the time came for me to appoint my successor.
And I had two choices...
either my new son-in-law, Jimmy...
Or my own son, Buddy.
And I chose your dad.
Well, the rest is history.
Jimmy ratted me out,
and your uncle Buddy hasn't spoken a single word to me
in almost 20 years.
Why did you choose Jimmy over your own son?
I followed my heart.
Simple as that.
[Sighs]
Do I regret my choice?
[Chuckles] Hell, yes.
But if I had to go do it again today, Katie,
I... I'd make the same damn choice I made 18 years ago.
That makes no fucking sense, Big Bud.
[Chuckling] I know. I know.
[Laughs]
Yet the heart wants what it wants.
[Slow Irish folk music plays]
He's playing you, Shelly.
He's playing us all, like he played Richie Destefano.
No.
He's different.
Well, forgive me for not believing wholeheartedly
in the rehabilitative attributes of the penal system
or in the salvageable qualities
of Bud O'Rourke's black Irish soul,
but that old man
is the big bad wolf in sheep's clothing.
We have to move on.
What?
After all this?
Yes.
How?
We'll start over.
Who knows how long any of us has left?
[Sniffles]
You, sir.
A word.
Jimmy...
Please.
[Sighs]
All right, son.
Katie twisted my arm.
I will concede the aisle-walking honors to you
on one condition.
What?
Those two words, Jimmy.
- [Sighs] - I need to hear them.
And...
[Clears throat] Being the gentleman that I am,
I will apologize to you first.
I'm sorry, Jimmy.
I'm sorry for the wreck I made of your life.
I'm sorry for everything.
Now you.
- Jesus, Bud. Let it go already. - I can't.
- It's a choice. - Well, then I won't.
- I'm not doing this. - Ah, ah. Oh, no, no, no, no, no, no.
[Chuckles] Ah, ah...
- [Light laughter] - Ah...
I'm not giving you a choice, son.
- It's a switchblade, Jimmy. - Yeah, I see that.
Its blade is double-edged.
That's good to know.
Do you know why it's double-edged?
I'll take a stab...
because it brings about good consequences, as well as bad?
It's a symbol of reconciliation.
Take it.
Take it!
It's time we ended it. Don't you think, Jimmy?
Peace is much better, isn't it?
Yeah, sure, Bud.
Then just say it, Jimmy.
- Ju... ju... just whisper it to me. - Just say you're sorry.
I can't.
It's a choice, son.
- Oh, now you're giving me a choice? - Now I'm giving you a choice.
Okay, I won't.
18 years ago, I chose you
over my own flesh and blood.
I put you on the payroll, son, and I did it out of love.
- And that makes it worse. - Worse? How?
Less forgivable.
[Sighs]
Why... why are you so fucking pigheaded?
Well, 'cause somebody's got to be, Bud.
Otherwise, it's assholes like you bulldozing over everything.
Don't make me do this, son.
Nobody is making you do anything.
You are. You always were.
Well, let me help you out of that bind.
[Grunting]
We're finally free of each other...
Bud.
Aah. Aah!
[Screams]
[Gasping]
- [Crying] What did you do? - I... I didn't do it!
- He did it to himself! - What?!
- I... I... I didn't do it. - [Sobbing]
I didn't do it!
He did it to himself!
Oh, Jimmy.
- Synced and corrected by chamallow - - www.addic7ed.com -