Original subtitles

Shadow, we're going to be releasing you

later this afternoon.

Your wife--

...died in the early hours of this morning.

Was a-- an automobile accident...

Also, you lost something vital in there, not just time.

If I was inclined, what might I call you?

I could be Mr. Wednesday with a shake of the handed.

How much has our man told you?

You're my man now.

Do you know who he is?

Who he really is?

**

**

**

**

Oh, she long dead.

She wouldn't give it up for Johannes up there

so he threw her off the boat.

Did you know your momma couldn't swim?

You all need to work on that. Take swimming lessons.

This is how we get stereotypes.

Anansi...

You want help?

Fine.

Let me tell you a story.

"Once upon a time, a man got fucked."

Now, how is that for a story?

'Cause that's the story of black people in America.

Shit, you all don't know you black yet.

You think you just people.

Let me be the first to tell you

that you are all black.

The moment these Dutch motherfuckers set foot here

and decided they white,

and you get to be black,

and that's the nice name they call you...

Let me paint a picture

of what's waiting for you on the shore.

You arrive in America,

land of opportunity, milk and honey,

and guess what?

You all get to be slaves.

Split up, sold off and worked to death.

The lucky ones get Sunday off to sleep and fuck

and make more slaves, and all for what?

For cotton? Indigo?

For a fucking purple shirt?

The only good news is

the tobacco your grandkids are gonna farm for free

is gonna give a shitload

of these white motherfuckers cancer.

And I ain't even started yet.

A hundred years later.

You're fucked.

A hundred years after that.

Fucked.

A hundred years after you get free,

you still getting fucked out a job

and shot at by police.

You see what I'm saying?

This guy gets it.

I like him.

He's getting angry.

Angry is good.

Angry gets shit done.

You shed tears for Compé Anansi,

and here he is, telling you

you are staring down the barrel

of 300 years of subjugation,

racist bullshit and heart disease.

He is telling you there isn't one goddamn reason

you shouldn't go up there right now

and slit the throats

of every last one of these Dutch motherfuckers

and set fire to this ship!

You already dead, asshole.

At least die a sacrifice

for something worthwhile.

Let the motherfucker burn!

Let it all burn!

**

**

**

- Were you shot at? - No.

If you were, I'd have to call the cops.

No.

No. No cops.

The fuck you do?

Why, it depends on who you ask.

You ask the girl's mother, she'll say I did a series of unspeakable things.

You ask that mouth-breather she calls a boyfriend,

he'll be at a loss for words.

But you ask the girl herself,

I'm guessing she'll say I opened a few doors.

Come on, ask her yourself.

I'm asking you what do know about a slaughtered lynch mob?

I don't know what the fuck you speak of.

I was merely passing the time as instinct indicated

while you were paying your last respects

to your dearly departed.

How was the funeral?

It's over.

Well, you wanna come in and talk about it?

You just-- just--

Hey, hey.

Hey, you-you hungry?

I mean, they got no food here,

but you can order a pizza, and you can put it on the room.

Look, I'm not fuckin' hungry. Okay?

I was just hijacked by a toad-skin-smokin' punk

- in a virtual fuckin' limo. - Oh.

Said to tell you that he's reprogrammed reality.

Mmm-mm-mm. What a little asshole.

- Oh, you know him? - Oh, I know who he is.

They don't have a clue. They don't have a fucking clue.

I don't have a fucking clue. Okay?

I don't give a fuck if they don't have a fucking clue.

I want one. Give me a fucking clue.

Clues were not in the agreement.

Oh, neither was my ass hanging from a fucking tree.

I was lynched. Strange fuckin' fruit.

Plucked plucky fruit. Here you stand.

Unusual outcome for a lynching.

Chalk it all up to occupational hazard.

And occupational hazard gets hazard pay.

Double your salary. That do it?

- It'll do something. - Good.

Compact amended.

How much longer you gonna be in this town?

I don't know. Maybe another day.

You're done here, we're done here.

Goodnight. Your first bed as a free man. Enjoy it.

Shadow?

About that little shit in the big limo.

An assault on you is an insult to me.

Don't think because I didn't lose my temper

I'm not angry or I'm lacking a plan.

**

I didn't mean to wake you.

Laura...

they told me you died.

Who said I died, puppy?

Everyone.

Oh, you were just having a bad dream.

**

You going to miss it?

Eagle Point?

No.

Too many Laura memories.

Never really had a life here.

It's Laura's town.

Too many people tell each other

not to repress their emotions,

to release their feelings, to let the pain go.

There's a lot to be said for bottling up emotions.

I'm gonna tell you something and you're gonna want to hurt me,

but what I say has gotta be said.

So I want you to consider my words very carefully

and refrain from knocking my teeth out.

- Say it. - Word on the street is

your wife died sucking your best friend's cock.

And you, sir, are only obligated

to feel bad about that for so long.

Thank you...

for warning me.

Hmm.

**

Why coin tricks? You don't really have

the personality to be a magician.

You can't weave the stories that are necessary for belief

unless you have a little personality.

Wow.

- You do have craft, though. - Thank you.

Turn off here.

- No, the highway's ahead. - We're not taking the highway.

Not now, not ever.

- No highways. - Okay, okay, no highways.

- Why no highways? - Seen one, seen 'em all.

No chance for serendipitous lovely.

Let there be beauty where there can be.

And keep her under 70, would you, huh?

- Betty likes a slow ride. - So what's the plan?

Plan is we will be meeting with a number of people

preeminent in their respective fields.

And then we will rendezvous

at one of the most important places in the entire country.

Where is the most important place in the country?

One of the most important places.

Opinion is justifiably varied.

But we will be stopping in Chicago first.

What's in Chicago?

My hammer.

* Yeah

**

* Ooh

* Catch a ride to the end...

I've got a meeting in here,

and I want you to do some shopping for me.

Here's a thousand dollars and a list of things to get.

Don't like dropping in on friends empty-handed.

Money situation's a little tight at the moment,

so we can agree now you bring me receipts

or you don't skim more than a reasonable 5 percent.

Oh... I'm not gonna steal from you.

You can't look out for yourself,

how the hell you gonna look out for me?

Not so fast. We need to talk, Shadow.

Look at me, Shadow, all in hi-def.

We shot the show in 35mm, cutting edge.

Looks like hell in the transfer.

Funny how things supposed to make you look good

only make it worse.

I can't even fill the whole screen.

The fuck is this?

Just little old me.

Talking to Lucille Ball.

Lucy Ricardo.

I'm all sorts, Shadow.

The screen is the altar.

I'm the one they sacrifice to.

Then till now.

Golden Age to Golden Age.

They sit side by side, ignore each other,

and give it up to me.

Now they hold a smaller screen on their lap

or in the palm of their hand

so they don't get bored watching the big one.

Time and attention,

better than lamb's blood.

Huh.

They beat your pretty face all up.

I hate that.

I hate that they were hurting you, Shadow.

I would never do that to you, honey.

No, I want to offer you a job.

- Doing what? - Working for me.

I want you in my camp with us.

Look at it like this, Shadow:

We're the coming thing.

We are already here.

We are self-driving cars and 3D printers

and subdermal time-release insulin.

And your old boss is still selling oranges on the side of the road.

Not even organic.

We are now and tomorrow...

and tomorrow and tomorrow and tomorrow.

And he ain't even yesterday anymore.

I heard about the trouble you had with the Technical Boy.

I was impressed with how you dealt with him.

Efficient, no-nonsense, effective.

Who'd have thought you had it in you?

He was underestimating you, sweetheart.

They all are.

Not a mistake I'll make.

Yeah, well I don't want to work for you, I-Love-Lucy.

We're done.

Whatever the old guys are giving you,

I can give you so much more.

You name it, honey.

What do you need?

Hey, you ever wanted to see Lucy's tits?

Lucy!

Don't fight gravity, Shadow.

I've been at this a while,

not as long as some, but I've seen things.

Guys like you end up a suicide every time.

I'm trying to help you keep your neck out of the belt.

That went as well as can be expected.

Oh, you all gassed up and ready to go?

I think I'm losing my mind.

Well, when will you know for sure?

I've heard of guys losing it when they get out.

Are you trying to wiggle your way out of this job?

Lucy--

- I-Love-Lucy talked to me. - Oh, the television program?

No, Lucy herself came-- This is so fucking crazy.

- And like the rest of your life is sane? - Lucy talking to me

from the TV is weirder by several orders of magnitude

than anything that's ever happened to me.

So far.

Oh, at times the universe does seem

to have singled you out for unique abuse.

In these moments, you gotta ask yourself:

Would I rather be ignored?

Yes.

Okay, yes, ignore me.

Always better dead than forgotten.

And no one is ever gonna forget you.

Now, flattering as that may be,

this, on top of your other adventures--

Hmm.

Sudden onset of strange.

Fair cause for consternation, unless strange is a new language

and what we're doing here is vocabulary building.

Fuck your vocabulary.

Okay? This is gibberish.

Seems you have a choice. You may have to consider

that you didn't see what you saw.

- Or... - Or you did.

The world is either crazy or you are.

They're both solid options. Take your pick,

and when you decide, come and tell me.

But don't rush into it. Take your time.

Difficult decision.

They threatened to reprogram reality.

I mean, is-- Is that what this is?

Are they just fucking with my head?

Are you fucking with my head?

There are bigger sacrifices

one might be asked to make

than going a little mad.

Well, this is good. This is very good.

You can read a list.

What-- What the hell is this?

- You don't have one. - I don't want one.

Well, you need one. What if someone wants to talk to you?

Why the hell would I want to talk to anyone?

Okay, what if I need to talk to you, huh?

- Try shouting. - What--

Or in a pinch...

a telegram.

Oh, you know I miss those.

Dots and dashes, secret code.

There was drama in there.

Someone gave you an envelope, you got anticipation.

What's in there? So you'd open it very slowly.

Every phrase chosen carefully

'cause they charge you by the word.

First wire ever sent

by Samuel F.B. Morse himself in 1844,

"What hath God wrought?"

Goddamn information age is what.

Best thing about these states we're headed towards--

Minnesota, Wisconsin--

is that they have the kind of women

that I loved when I was younger.

Pale-skinned, blue-eyed.

Hair so fair it's almost white.

Wine-colored lips, full round breasts

with veins running through them

like a good cheese.

Only when you were younger? You did alright last night.

You wanna know the secret of my success?

The secret is charm.

Yeah, well, you either got it or you don't.

Charms can be learned like anything else.

**

* I saw a room full of men

* With their hammers a-bleedin' *

* And it's a hard

* It's a hard

* It's a hard

* And it's a hard

* It's a hard rain

* A-gonna fall

**

Zorya Vechernyaya.

He don't going to be happy to see you.

Organic bullshit.

Of course you come after I do shopping.

Now I have to send back to store

to make enough for tonight for supper.

You bad news.

I only come when matters are vital,

as they are now.

God, you are gorgeous.

You have not aged.

Hmm?

And I brought you a present.

And for your sister.

And for your sister.

Zorya Ultrennyaya!

She is awake.

Our other sister is still asleep.

Something to warm your bedside table.

Our guests stay for dinner. Go back to store.

A roast, six potatoes, a rye loaf with seeds.

- No seeds, take the wheat. - I can help.

You sit. You are guest. Coffee first.

The Zorya sisters always make a marvelous home.

We do okay. We pay rent on time even.

We make some money from the slaughterhouse.

My sister and I make a dollar here, a dollar there reading fortune.

I make the most of course.

It's because you tell the prettiest lies.

The truth is not what people want to hear.

Prettiest woman, prettiest lies.

Oh. Black as night, sweet as sin.

You take coffee then I read your future.

You want from me. My sisters are garbage.

You do not believe in fortunes.

I think that...

we're all fucked any way it comes out.

You know? So...

Saying that before it happens is just playing the odds.

You go sit, be comfortable.

Washroom is second door, not third.

The third you do not touch.

My other sister is sleeping inside.

She needs her rest.

Is she sick?

He does not know our world.

I'm easing him in.

You are worst man I have ever seen.

**

- That smell. - We have guest.

We have two guests.

Oh, Votan!

Nice to see you, Czernobog, old friend.

I brought a gift.

Yeah?

And some of that herb Havarti you like so much.

Why is he in my home?

Make him not be here, or I'll make him not be here.

I already invite him for dinner. I cannot uninvite.

I come here only to share bread and information.

What you choose to do with the latter is entirely up to you.

Already he's spitting on my rug.

Just a few moments of your time,

while my man here helps the ladies prepare

a delicious meal I'm sure.

For old times' sake.

Hmm?

Make dinner first.

- I'd be happy to help. - I murder you first.

Think your husband might beat you to it.

Oh, Czernobog is nobody's husband.

I am nobody's wife. Relatives.

We come over here together long time ago.

Family is who you survive with when you need to survive.

Even if you do not like them.

Everything looks great.

Meat will be tough, potatoes will be soft.

I am not a good cook.

When I was young, there were servants to make meals.

Here, there are no servants.

There's only us, and learning is beneath me.

Thought you were supposed to read tea leaves.

Tea is disgusting.

So what does it say?

You will have a long life,

and a happy one, with many children.

That bad, huh? Any good news?

Your mother die of cancer.

Yeah.

You no die of cancer.

Can you get out? I want you to get out!

And take your man with you.

Or I will break him open...

- Shh! Shh! - ...and I will choke you slowly

with his heart.

I'm not going with you anywhere!

- Shh! - What's the matter? Let her wake up.

Let your sister hear this con man,

this son of a bitch, come into my home

and try to make me die.

You brought that madness into my life once.

- Never again. - They'll all be there.

Everyone except you--

...each of them thinking they know what strong is.

And if you're not there to show them otherwise...

They respect you.

They know you.

No, no. They don't know me.

You know me.

You know what these hands have done.

You don't want me. You want my brother,

and he's not here.

Then we'll die.

It will be glorious, win or lose.

I'm tired of glorious.

- Is something wrong? - Nothing at all, my sister. Go back to sleep.

I'm not successful.

We should go.

Said you needed him.

There's always another way.

No, no, no. No. Food is cooked.

Zorya Vechernyaya invited you for dinner, right?

So you stay and you eat.

Otherwise, she will be insulted.

You understand?

But if you want to leave after,

I will hold open the door.

**

Mmm. Mmm.

Mmm!

Mmm.

Mmm.

Mmm. Delicious.

To think I nearly missed this fabulous meal, hmm?

Thank you, ladies. Shadow.

My old friend, hmm?

You're black, right?

That a problem?

Eh, we never much care about skin, like the Americans.

Where we're from, everyone has the same color,

so we must fight over shades.

Hmm.

You see, my brother had light hair and beard.

Me dark, like you.

I was like the black man over there.

As against my brother, the white.

Everybody thought he must be the good one.

Yeah.

So I became me.

But time passes. Now I'm gray.

Yeah, he too, I-- I believe, now is gray.

So you wouldn't be able to tell

who is light, who is dark.

So much for fighting over color.

Yeah, you see,

when we came to America,

we first came to New York.

Everyone first come to New York.

New York was--

Yeah, it was all right.

Sometimes even good, right? Aye?

And then we came here, Chicago, everything became bad.

I think in the old country, you know, I am forgotten.

Here, I'm like a bad memory.

So, I had to find work,

and I found meat business.

You know it?

I know the eating part.

I know the killing.

So I got job on killing floor as a knocker.

It was a good job.

Yeah, skilled labor.

A cow comes up the ramp. Boom, boom, boom.

And you take a sledge hammer, and-- Boop!

You knock the cow dead.

It takes strength.

No cow-killing stories during dinner.

How do you think meat get on your plate? Huh?

It takes strength, but not only strength.

It takes talent, because it's a craft.

You have to do it right,

or the cow gets angry.

And angry meat taste bad.

Yeah, you need arms to break the skull,

but that's not the goal.

The goal is to crush the brain inside the skull,

and quick, before the pain can travel

from outside the brain to the inside,

so the brain never knows the brain is crushing.

To give a good death is art.

But nowadays, they have this bolt gun.

You know?

Put it on the forehead.

Yeah.

Now every monkey with a thumb can kill.

They sit there all day, all night.

Yeah, so much for killing.

Hey, do you know checkers?

I was in prison for three years.

Yeah, people go crazy for chess.

But you know what?

Checkers is honest.

Hmm.

Every man's an equal.

Eh, exactly.

After you finish eating,

maybe you and I play checkers.

I shall play black.

Is good?

- Is good. - Yeah.

I like it. Confident.

Maybe we even bet a little, huh?

You don't have to play him.

What do you say?

You guys play a lot of checkers?

Oh, the sisters don't play.

But I keep sharp, not like my arms.

They don't get the workout they used to, huh?

No more killing floor to swing my hammer.

First blood is mine.

So you've lost. Game is done.

I just started.

Hmm.

Confident.

You wanna see it?

See what?

The hammer.

The one I used to kill.

It's dull now, but...

The secret to keeping it clean is use.

Yeah, blood feeds it,

gives it shine.

You know, the best blood flows at sunrise,

when the cattle is rested, fed, and calm.

Oh, now my hammer is red with rust.

No more sunrise blood.

Ten thousand deaths made right here.

Are you going to play or what?

It's your move.

Your move.

Hey, we make a wager on our little game, huh?

You relax. This is not your game, okay?

You see, your master wants me to come with him

to deal with his nonsense.

Well...

Listen. If I lose,

I will go with Votan and do what he asks,

and I will nod in front of the others.

And if you win?

I get to knock your brains out with my hammer.

But first, you have to go down on your knees,

and I will hit you with this.

Just one blow.

Right here.

Sunrise blood.

Is good?

He'll take that shot...

no joke, no boast, no half-measures.

How good are you?

How bad do you need him?

It's your decision.

All right, if-if all this is real,

and-- and-- and TVs talk,

and she can read fortunes

and hammers bleed,

and if there is a world...

under a world...

Yo, fuck it.

Is good.

Is good?

Yeah.

Good.

Your move.

**

**

**

**

**

**

**

* My love made

* The sweetest coffee

* With no sugar at all

* She only stirred

* With her spoon

* And it was done

* Now my drink is bitter

* The secret of spoons

* Forgotten

* When my voice breaks

* On this song

* Remember old love gone

* And drink

* Your bitter coffee

* And drink it

* Bitter coffee

So at sunrise,

I get to knock your brains out.

And you will go down on your knees...

willingly.

Is good?

A shame.

You're my only black friend.