The Tender Hook (2008) Script

[Pensive music]

[Horn honks]

[Glass squeaking]

[Both speaking indistinctly]

You made me a promise.

That didn't include having my nose rubbed in it.

And you're not off the hook.

[Waves splashing]

[Muffled whimpering]

You think I sold out, don't you?


What the hell are you two doing?

[Muffled, frantic screaming]

[Swanky jazz music]

♪ If you want a lover

♪ I'll do anything you ask me to ♪

♪ And if you want another kind of love ♪

♪ I'll wear a mask for you

♪ If you want a partner, take my hand ♪

♪ Or if you want to strike me down in anger ♪

♪ Here I stand

♪ I'm your man

♪ If you want a boxer

♪ I will step into the ring for you ♪

♪ And if you want a doctor

♪ I'll examine every inch of you ♪

♪ If you want a driver, climb inside ♪

♪ Or if you want to take me for a ride ♪

♪ You know you can

♪ I'm your man

♪ Oh, the moon's too bright

♪ The chain's too tight

♪ The beast won't go to sleep

♪ I've been running through

♪ These promises to you

♪ That I made

♪ And I could not keep

♪ Oh, but a man never got a woman back ♪

♪ Not by begging on his knees

♪ Or I'd crawl to you, baby

♪ I'd fall at your feet

♪ I'd howl at your beauty like a dog in heat ♪

♪ I'd claw at your heart

♪ I'd tear at your sheet

♪ I'd say "please"

♪ I'm your man

[Cheers and applause]

In the words of Bill Shakespeare, all the world's a stage and all the men and women merely players.

They have their entrances and their exits.

[Cheers and applause]



Bloody terrific performance, Mac.

Oh, not bad for an amateur, was it?

What did our new boy think?

Very good.

You know, almost professional standard.

Well, thank you, Tchaikovsky.

The subjects may have played a few dumb notes, that's all.

Who, exactly?

The trumpet. The bass.

The drummer.

The drummer?

The drummer.

He missed a few beats. That's all.

It's called syncopation.

Well, there you go.

Shows how much we know, doesn't it?

[Romantic piano music]

Thud! [Crowd gasps excitedly]

He's bolshie, isn't he?

He's a boxer.

He's supposed to be.

"The final bout of the evening

"is a 15-rounder between Mike Flynn and Art Walker.

"Mike Flynn is a former New South Wales champion.

"Art Walker is an experienced preliminary fighter, and tonight marks his main event debut."

[Cheers and applause]

[Bell dings]

[Both grunting]

[Romantic piano music]




Four, five, six, seven, eight...

[Bell dings]

[Muffled cheering]

[Cheers and applause]

Ronnie, do you know him?

Kind of.

Served with his brother Charlie.

What was the charge?

Not in jail, in the war.

Charlie was decorated.

His footwork's letting him down.

Send him to Arthur.

Who's Arthur?

Arthur Murray Dance School.

What do you think of him?

No killer instinct.

Well, he won, didn't he?

He won.

Isn't that enough?

Tell them I'm getting changed, then I'll be in the car.

Hello, Iris.

Wrong door, Hackett.

I know it was an unwise transaction, but he never exactly asked where the beer was made.

I stuck my neck out for you because you said you needed the passage home.

You're still here.

It's not right.

He's making me pay him back with interest, and he gets to keep the merchandise.

I don't get involved in his business affairs.

On the house.

Your father drove a hard bargain.

But he never cheated anyone.

My father's dead.

Leave him out of it.


I saw your fight.

I saw you.

You're bleeding.

Kiss it better.

You are bolshie.

Why didn't you finish him off?

He was already going down.


You could have scored a knockout.

[Smacks lips]

I just sent him to keep an eye on you.

Where's the harm in that?

I'm not a child.

So I'm overprotective.

No, overpossessive.

The chain's too tight.

Ah, the moon's too bright.

Who's chained to whom exactly, sweetheart?

I'm H.D. McHeath.

Art Walker.

Let me drive you home.

Art, this is Iris.


Pleased to meet you, Art.

You know what?

I think I'll ride up front.


She's quite a catch, isn't she?

I just met her.

Take my word for it.

Where do you live?

Ronnie knows the house.

Would you take a drink?

Been known to.

[Knocks quickly]

[Engine turns over]

[Glass clinks]

I enjoyed your performance.

It was a fight.

And a good fight has all the elements of great theater.

I wouldn't know about that.

No, of course you wouldn't.

You're into per diem.

You know, this colony's chock-a-block full of punters, crowds, spectators, but try finding a discerning bloody audience.

Still, if you can't beat 'em--

I enjoy a stoush as much as the next person, but if you reckon that the empire's a goner and that this new republic is a dead cert, now...

Why does it have to be bloody?

Why not just sit back and wait for the funeral?

Because this would make you a passive radical.

Jesus H.

Wouldn't want one of those in your corner, would you, Daisy?

A posse of radicals orthodox or southpaw?

Are you ambidextrous, Daisy?


I hear your brother's a war hero.

Was he there tonight?

Charlie doesn't get out much.

He won it at the Somme.

Ah, a military medal.

That's quite a weight, isn't it?

He taught me how to fight.

Good for him.

He fought in the war, and now ten years on, you have to struggle in the peace.

I'm doing all right.

Sure, you are.

What do you know about Alby O'Shea?

He hails from Brisbane.

Good middleweight.

Needs a new sparring partner.

I'll pay you £5 a week starting tomorrow.

Tomorrow's Sunday.


[Upbeat jazzy music]

[Bell dings]


This is Alby, AKA Othello O'Shea.

Alby, this is Art Walker, your new sparring partner.

Who's the best trainer in town?

Greyhound Eddie's good.

I don't think he's available.

Greyhound Eddie it is.

Do you think he knows what he's doing?

Where else do you get paid to train?

You staying at the house?


Free board, separate entrance, come and go as you please?

Sounds too good to be true.

Where'd you get that?

From my bag of tricks.

Does Iris come around much?

Sometimes, her and Daisy.

She'll be way out of your reach, bud.

My reach is good.

That's nothing.

One, two, three, four.

One, two, three, four.

That's it. You're getting it.

If you had to choose, who would you hook up with?

The communist or the monarchist?


Can I say neither?


All right, I'd pick the one with the best prospects.

How can you tell?

You can't.

Better make it a troika.

What's a troika?

It's Russian for threesome.

Iris, where are your morals?

Hackett likes to gamble with them little tiles.


Anyway, since Iris knew Hackett back in Broome, Mac goes against his better judgment and agrees to fence the whole lot.

Course, when it gets delivered, it turns out it's this Jap brand.


Got it.

Oh, bugger!

So McHeath couldn't sell it?

Who in their right mind is gonna buy Japanese beer?

Upshot is, the beer's wasting away in Mac's shop while Hackett's busy paying it off on tick.


A girl could die of thirst round here.

Is it cold yet?

The hook slipped off.

Where is it?

Can you see it?


Told you to tie a rope to it.

[Audience chattering]

So already they're mates.

Why shouldn't they be?

Men are supposed to be rivals.

Only in the ring.

It's all a ring, sweetheart, if you really want to get ahead.


No, I'm a realist.

You're either a leader, or you're a bleeder.

You go to the pictures much?

Not really. You?

A few tent shows in Queensland.

Nothing like this place.

You didn't even ask her, did you?

Mind your own business.

♪ Daisy

♪ Daisy


♪ Give me your answer, do

♪ I'm half crazy

♪ All for the love of--

Piss off.

[Dramatic organ music]

What's that?

"Jack Johnson Challenges Tommy Burns."

[Organ music continues]


[Organ music continues]

black bastard.

Uppity nigger!

Take a bath!

[Shouting indistinctly]

[Audience chattering loudly]


[Woman shrieks]

Can we leave, please?

[Man shouts]

I'd like a word.

Nasty scene at the picture theater, wasn't it?

I was upstairs in the circle.

I've been a fool.

Give out the red trunks, Alby.

They like their winners white, simple as that.

The trunks, Alby.

I need a sparring partner.

What do you think, I'd throw him on the street?

How's your footwork coming on?

It's getting there.

I have to see about booking you a fight.

Hello, Alby.

It's not fair.

It's not fair, but it's not his fault.

You're missing the sport of kings.

[Radio announcer's muffled voice fades in]

Number six...



To place or to win?

To win.


Ten to one.

Well, if I lose, then you can take it out of next week's pocket money.

But you've already spent that.

The week after, then.

Make it £2.

[Radio announcer's muffled voice continues]

Not now, Ronnie.

[Radio announcer's muffled voice continues]

Mr. McHeath, I can explain.

Iris has her money on a horse called Farlap.

Farlap? Glue on three legs.

I should be going.

Stay for the results.

[Radio announcer's muffled voice continues]

I know I'm behind with the payments.

[Radio announcer's muffled voice continues]

Behind by a nose?


A head? A neck?

A length?

Back of the field.

That's disappointing form.

Doesn't bode well for another start, does it, Hackett?

Point of fact, I wouldn't be surprised if it gets you scratched.

[Radio clicks]

Congratulations, Iris.


I can have the rest by next week.



Iris, collect your money and close the door behind you.

[Grunting and whimpering]



Japanese beer turned out expensive for you.

Didn't it, Hackett?

[Rhythmic tapping]


Eddie, bring us a towel and mop, will you?


What's going on?

Mind your own business.

[Phone rings]

Mr. Hackett?

Is he all right?

He better not be contagious.

What do you mean?

He's got these lumps all down the inside of his arm.

They're pearls.

Hackett used to work on the luggers.

What's he doing with pearls in his arm?


What do you think of that dress?

Looks all right.

Think I should try it on?

It's almost closing time.

Well, the door's still open.

I'll be at the pub.

Drinking while in training?

I don't think that's allowed, is it?

You won't tell him.

How do you know I won't?

You're a bit sure of yourself, aren't you?

Cool off, sunshine.

Hey, fellas.

We've got a proposition for you.

Black fellas, eh?


No, no. No.

Drinking the boss's grog, that is one thing.

Selling it on, that's corrupt.

All property is theft, Ronnie.

Especially stolen property.

Expropriate from the expropriators.

Count me out.


What are you doing here?

I thought you'd gone to the pictures.

I changed my mind.

I thought I'd come and watch.

[Bell dings]

Great left hook.

What was that, Alby?

My switch foot.

You're finished for the day. Out.

Right, Ronnie, set it up in the corner.


In the ring.


[Tinkling piano music]

Shame no one told you about Daisy's two left feet.

Daisy, you're a wallflower.

That's not very nice. I'm trying.

You are. Iris?

I'm not wearing the right shoes.

I'm sure you'll manage.

[Tinkling piano music]

Fancy dress.

Well, in the end, I had to trust my own judgment.

Come on, pick it up. Chop, chop.

[Music stops abruptly]

That'll do for today.



Where were we?


"Speak the speech, I pray you, "as I pronounced it to you, "trippingly on the tongue:

"But if you mouth it, as many of your players do, I had as lief the town-crier spoke my lines."

Speak the speech, I pray you, as I pronounced it to you, trippingly on the tongue:

But if you mouth it, as many of your players do, I had as lief the town-crier spoke my lines.

I'm getting up.

What were you talking about outside the warehouse?


I heard Ronnie say "Count me out."

I asked him to drive Daisy and I to the beach.

In the Rolls?


That sounds like a fun idea.

Especially on a hot day.

So you've done it before?

A couple of times.







He's not exactly scientific.

Yes, Delaney's a dumb thug; so much the better.

I'm putting on an entertainment, not a science exhibition.

How's your bolshevik apprentice shaping up?

Oh, real trouper.

He's not bolshevik, Mac.

He's a Russian.



Where do you reckon these sheilas are from, Mac?

Broken homes.


What's a gallon of petrol worth nowadays?

Eight pence.

Two or three ten-mile trips to the nearest beach and back at 12 miles to the gallon plus wear on the engine, tires--

Tell you what.

Why don't I just take it out of your wages, and we'll forget the whole thing ever happened.

Sure, Mac.


[Phone rings]

Hi. Let me speak to Mr. McHeath.

I'm sorry, laddie, Mac's not here.

Which race?

You sure?


If I see him, I'll be sure and pass it on.

I thought you'd be Eddie.

He's seeing a man about a dog.

It's one of Mac's old ones.

You want to try it on?

I never realized boxing gloves made you so helpless.

I could always break your nose.


What came first, the boxing or the tattoo?


Lucky you didn't become a plumber then.

Or a doctor.

Or a priest.

It's not too tight?

Feels all right.

You know, the night before a fight, it's usual for a boxer to rest up.

Yeah, well, Mac wants to show you off at the club.

Besides, it's Brainy Delaney you're fighting, not Dempsey.

Shall we finish that dance?

You're asking?

I'm asking.

[Urgent pounding at door]

Our chaperone's here.

The bugger's early.

[Pounding continues]

Why are the doors locked?

There's thieves about.

How'd you go with the sales?


Five ways.

Is Eddie in?


I need some help with this tie.

Don't ask me.


I'll have a go.

[Jaunty piano music]

♪ You've been with the professors and ♪

♪ They've all liked your looks

♪ With great lawyers you have discussed ♪

♪ Lepers and crooks

♪ You've been through all

♪ Of F. Scott Fitzgerald's books ♪

♪ You're very well read

♪ It's well known

♪ But something is happening

♪ And you don't know what it is ♪

♪ Do you, Mr. Jones?

All right. That'll do.


Who's for a bottle of bubbly?


My share?

No, it's all right.

It's the money we made off the republic beer.

No, I can't take that.

Yes, you can.

Never bite the hand that feeds.


Not even a nibble?

It is small beer.

Take the money and stop being so bloody righteous.

Smells of gingering.

What's a gingering?

Daisy, you might want to cover your ears.


A gingering is when a prostitute purloins from her client's wallet whilst discharging her professional duties.

Thieving whore.

In one.

Sounds tricky.

Definitely below the belt.

You can open up now, Phil.

Art, what are you doing?

Getting you a round.

You're a prize fighter, not a waiter.

Take it back.

It's fine.

Take it back.

You heard the man.

Run along.


The subjects sound like they were firing on all fours tonight, Mac.

A bunch of no-hopers.

Iris, how about a cool, non-alcoholic beverage for our champion?

There's a good girl.

And while you're up, these three may wish to wet their whistles as well.

I don't know if you've heard, but I'm pretty good at backup.

I know I'd have to audition.


Eyes like piss holes in the sand.

What the hell were you thinking?

Very unprofessional.

[Muffled choking]


[Muffled retching]

No one saw him after he left the club.

And by the looks of him, he made a night of it.

Find our seats.


[Doors slam]

Were you out drinking?

You've got a hide to wear your brother's medal.

Take it off!

You got two choices:

Cancel or substitute Alby.

I can take the laddie, easy.

Stand on one leg.

Ronnie, hold his foot.


That'll teach you to walk off the job.

[Screaming continues]

He goes on.

You go too far.

It's called following through.

Nine, ten.


You're up early.

You know what they say about the early bird.

[Birds chirping]

Beautiful day.

Fancy a drive to the beach?

That sounds nice.

While you're frolicking in the surf, I might even get in nine holes.


[Door slams]


You were out for the count.

I want a rematch.

Don't be silly.

You're retired.

You can't do that.

Ask around.

I think you'll find I can.

Mind you, if you get desperate, there's always the chaff bag fights.

They like drunks.

Let him go.


Don't come round here again.

[Glass shatters, Iris gasps]

I was doped.

Were you?

It was you, wasn't it?


I'm sorry.

I think we should flip a coin-- for Daisy.

That would settle it.

Whoever loses, no hard feelings.



Heads. Tails.

Heads it is.

Bad luck.

What's happened to your nose?

There's a freighter leaving for San Francisco next month.

A fresh start.

Good for you.

There's enough for a working passage.

You and I are finished, Hackett.

[Coughing violently]

Are you coming to the fight?

[Coughs violently]

They are running a bit behind schedule.

How far behind?

We're only up to here.

Oh, the prelim fight?


Chaff bag fight.

What is the chaff bag fight?

Oh, it's pure pantomime.

They get four rummies and stick them in each corner of the ring.

Did you know about this?


Poor bastard.

If I knew he was that hard up, I'd--


[Bell dings]


[Cheers and applause]

Pathetic, isn't it?

[Cheers and applause]


You have to think of the empire like a family.

The father spends years training up the son, teaching him everything he knows, and then, according to Donnie, when there's nothing more to be learned, the son should sneak up on his old man and-- smack! [Gasps]

King at him with a piece of 4x2, put him out of his misery.

Now, you are not telling me that that is fair dinkum.

No, that's definitely not fair dinkum, but I bet it's effective.

In theory, sure.

[Giggles, sighs]

So comfy.

Isn't it?

I could drive round like this all night.

What time is it due back?

Well, thanks to Iris' brute force, it's officially at the glazier's until we pick it up tomorrow morning.

It wasn't her fault.

Course it was.

If a window's jammed, you don't force it.

It's glass.

Bound to break.

How's your beer?

Listen to this.

"Al 'K.O. King' Norwood

"scored a first round knockout

"against challenger Midnight Murphy.

"Murphy was kissing canvas within two beats of the opening bell."

Norwood, is he a local?


He's middleweight champion of the pacific coast of North America.

The fight was out in San Francisco last month.


Imagine it, though:

An American import.

That would have to be good for the box office, wouldn't it?

Provided you don't take into account U.S. wages and traveling expenses, sure.

It's fiscal, sweetheart.

What about if he was already here?

A ring in?

No one's seen his photograph.


Still, if you were smart, you'd stage it out of town.

Who would you use?

Jim Kelso.

Nah, he's too well-known.

Delaney. Too brainy.

Taffy Jones. Too Welsh.

Alby "Othello" O'Shea.


Art Walker?

White, middleweight over 21.

Too drunk. You don't know that.

He could have just been under the weather.

With what, influenza?


I just don't think you should give up on him so quickly.

And why is that?

Because he's got heart.

And you've got one too.

[Whistling O Tannenbaum]

♪ The working class

♪ Can kiss my ass

♪ I've got the foreman's job at last ♪


Splash! Oopsie daisy.


Stop the car.

[Water splashing]


Get out of the bloody light.

[Continues humming]



I got it. Ugh.

Here. Give it.

All fixed, Mac.

Good as new.


You're late.

[Gun clicks]


Yeah, delirious.

[Ignition turns over]


[Engine turns off]

What makes the dictatorship of the worker any better than the dictatorship of the boss?


In theory or in practice?

Christ almighty.

In practice, for once.

Hey. Hey!

His time is up.

Ours is just beginning.


The end will beget the means.


When you feel it in your guts.

Why wouldn't I just fight as Art Walker?

To be blunt, you're a nobody, especially up in Brisbane.

As an unknown, I couldn't get you on a card.

No putting power.

But as al Norwood, I can drum you up a bit, give you a bit of razzle.

"Al Norwood, American K.O. King," instant marquee value.

I'm a boxer, not a fucking actor.

It could pay you to be a bit of both.

What about an advance on the purse, Mac?

That could be arranged.

You'll be fighting an ex-local lad, Alby "Othello" O'Shea.

See? Already it's dramatic.

What happened to a black fighter being a bad business proposition?

Not if he loses to a great white hope.

Alby's agreed to lose?

He's thinking of his future.

Perhaps you should do likewise.

Give my regards to the Marquess of Queensbury next time he pops round.

[Bottles clinking]

[Bottles shattering]




I guess anyone could have jumped the fence.

Could, but not anyone would, just the people in the know.

That's you...

And him, and who else?

It's only beer, Mac.

[Glass clinking]

It's my property. Do you understand?

Sure, Mac.



Hackett, he'll do...

For starters.



[Glass clinking]

Christ, that was over the top.

Mac the surgeon.

Does sir need to rest his arms for a moment?

I'm fine.


You reckon that'll wash out?


Claret stains are notoriously tricky to shift, worse than red wine even.

You may lower your arms now, sir.


Do we tell Iris about Hackett?

Not wise.

They've got a history.

Had a history.

They're beautiful.

[Both chuckle]

It's amazing what can come from a little irritation, isn't it?

They must have cost you a fortune.

Yes, an arm and a leg.

What, don't you like them?

Of course I do.

Of course I do.

[Knocks on door]


I'm wondering if Art is home.

Yeah, he's up--

[Coughing violently]



Like to earn some pocket money?

It depends.

We've got some crates of bitter we need to store.

A case?

Property of the collective.

You have any space?

Welcome aboard, art.

You're gonna try and talk me into taking the fight, aren't you?

Things have moved on.

Where to?

[Distant coughing]

It's mustard gas.

He's running on 1/5 of a lung.

For king and country.

Just country.

Fuck the king.

I think McHeath's killed Hackett.

Do you care?


[Train whistle blows]

Hackett used to tender for my father.

You're saying your father was a Pearl diver?

He's the wrong color.

He was a master pearler.

In his heyday, he had a six-boat fleet, white shoes, white suit, white Panama hat, and walking cane.

The very white man who slowly but surely drank himself to death.

Where did that leave you?

Susceptible. [Chuckles]

Tender looks after the diver while he's underwater, right?

He interprets his signals, makes sure he stays breathing and doesn't ruin his insides coming up too fast.

It's a big responsibility.

It's a partnership.

The diver has to trust the tender, and...

The tender has to be trustworthy.

[Metallic wheels squealing]

[Engine chugging]

Ladies and gentlemen, we are privileged to have present today all the way from North America Mr. Al Norwood, "the K.O. King."


Mr. Norwood, as a seasoned champion, why accept a challenge from an unknown--

A black man?

Mr. Norwood prefers to speak with his fists.

Mr. Norwood knows Alby "Othello" O'Shea to be an extremely gifted young up-and-comer.

Mr. O'Shea is a young and confident fighter with a fast and deadly punch both attacking and countering, so I guarantee we see some exciting boxing come tomorrow night.

Mrs. Norwood, how do you find Australia?

No, Iris is actually my--

I just step off the boat, and there it is.


Actually, it's all too exciting for words.

You don't mind your husband fighting while on holiday?

Well, he may be the K.O. King, but I'm the champ of this ring.


Mr. Norwood, please, a photo with you and your beautiful wife over by the window.

Where did you pick up the accent?

From a former acquaintance.

This former acquaintance, in the end, did he jump, or was he pushed?

I was just adding to the drama.

You used to like that.


You overstepped the mark.

I'm sorry.

I thought it might help ticket sales.

Ticket sales?

You don't seriously think that's what this is about, do you?

I won't go.

I'll stay in.

You will go.

You start something, you finish it.


[Rapping lightly on door]


What's going on?

In what sense?

What's Mac up to?

It's--it's complicated.

He asked me how you could afford those new suits.

What did you say?

That they were on sale and that you were lucky enough to both find them in the right size.


It's a crisscross fix.

Both boxers think the other's taking a dive.

So who wins?

Alby, no contest.

If Art's got any sense, he'll go down easy.

That's not what Mac's after.

Who knows what he's after?

He's following through.

Who are you talking to?

No one.

Ronnie, is that you?


Do you want me to wake him?

Both of you, get to bed.

[Bell dings]

[Cheers and applause]

[Chopping and clattering]

[Cheers and groaning]

Does Ronnie know not to let Art wear the medal?

He wouldn't be that stupid.

It's all right.

Excuse me, senator, do you mind if I borrow your pen?

I'd like to send a good luck note to my husband.

Of course.

Jimmy, be a pal?

Strictly private.

You understand?

[Knock at door]

I've got a private note for Mr. Norwood.

Who's your money on, son?

Alby O'Shea.

Except my grandpa wouldn't place my bet.

Is that right?

Well, then, let's go find you a bookie.

[Announcer speaking indistinctly]


[Cheers and applause]


[Bell dings]

[Cheers and applause]

[Crowd gasps]

Two, three, four, five, six, seven...

[Cheers and applause]


[Crowd roars]

[Muffled cheering]


[Somber piano music]

[Train whistle blows]

San Francisco.

Los Angeles.

New Orleans.

New York.


What would I do in America?

I don't speak the language.

It's a cinch.

You'll pick it up in no time.

What did you say?

Did you hear the one about the Lone Ranger and Tonto being chased by Indians?

They're galloping down through this canyon, Indians in hot pursuit, arrows going zing, zing through the air.

They come round this corner--


Halt on the brakes.

Straight in front of them...

Another war party, bows drawn.

They look up on the ridge, Indians all the way along.

There's no way out.

The Lone Ranger turns and says, "What are we going to do now, Tonto?"

Tonto looks back at the Lone Ranger and says, "What do you mean 'we,' Kemo Sabe?"

[Laughs, groans]


Sorry. Shh.


[Train whistle blows]

You and who else?

It was Iris's idea.

Be a man.

If I do it, I'll never get her back.

Hook, line, and sinker.

How's your gut?

In your own time.

No pressure.


[Continues sobbing]


Tell Charlie about the fight.

First-round knockout.

We should get going.

Just because you fought as someone else doesn't mean you weren't great.

So long, Charlie.

There will be another chance.

Until then, we just toe the line.

He'd written her name.

And it was all backwards-- not the spelling, the letters.

My boy used to write like that.

I didn't know you had a son.

You're thinking McHeath is illiterate.


I'm thinking he can't read or write.

It wouldn't surprise me if he was a bastard, though.

He sure acts like one.

[Steam engine hissing]

What did you do that for?

I loaded my glove with Charlie's medal.

I cheated.

I ruined you.

Didn't I?


[Both scream]

A coat button deflected the bullet and saved his life.

So fiercely intent on killing Walker was the... [Sighs]

Would-be assassin that he--


Fuck! [Gunshot]

I want to speak to Donnie alone.

It's not fair, is it?

Why should you be punished for his ballistic balls-up?

Divide and rule.

The cornerstone of empire.


It's to buy yourself a new suit, something a little quieter.

After you've dealt with the problem, we'll see about improving your new role.

So the... lady-in-waiting becomes the mistress.

It's free board.

Are you offering to pay my rent?

That's not the bloody point!

You are living with the man.

Don't be stupid.

I'm living in his house; so is Alby.

You dropped this.

All's fair in love and war, Donnie.

Let's go.


Why don't we just go to the police?

I'm not a dog.

It's not dogging.

We'll just get him off our back for a few days until the boat sails.


I won't run.

We have to run.

He'll kill you.

[Distant coughing]

[Flames crackling]

[Coughing continues]

[Bell ringing]


Wait. Wait.


Fuck this.

I'm knocking off.

We are not finished.

You come at a high price, don't you?

Promise to leave him alone.

Well, you're hardly in a position to bargain.

I'm back for good.

I promise.

You need a hot bath.

[Rhythmic clicking]

The mashie, I think.

Number three.


[Door rattles]

What time do you call this?

No stone left unturned, Mac.

We heard they left town.


The two of you couldn't organize a piss-up in a brewery.

Speak to the foreman.

Give me back the colt.

Last night, you came over.

We played cards till dawn.

Sure, Mac.

Sure, Mac.

We're setting up mah-jongg.

Who wants to play?

They don't know how.

They'll pick it up.

Just teach them the rules, Iris.

[Clubs rattle]

[Glass shatters]

You're like a bad penny.

Sorry to hear about Charlie.

[Sobs quietly]

Walk away, Art.

Smack! Thud!

Bad lad, Alby.

What are we going to do now, Tonto?

You made me a promise.

That didn't include having my nose rubbed in it.

And you're not off the hook.

You know he cheated, don't you?

We didn't give him any choice.

That's right.

Birds of a feather, aren't we?

What the hell are you two doing?

[Muffled, frantic screaming]

He's got the pearls.

[Frantic screaming]

Hold on, boys.

[Frantic screaming]


Check under his shirt.

[Panting and grunting]

As you were.

[Muffled, frantic screaming]

Go on, do it.

What are you waiting for?

Get rid of him.

What is this?


Do as you're fucking told!











[Metallic creaking and rattling]

[Metallic creaking and rattling]

I'm no good for you.

[Sobs quietly]

I think you better find your own way.