All language subtitles for Underdogs.2025.S01E05.1080p.WEB.h264-GRACE.en

Hello there.

I'm Ryan Reynolds.

Yeah, hmm.

That Ryan Reynolds.

I'm a film actor,

occasionally I dabble
in television

and other industries.

I'm also a father.

But I'm ready to move on
from all of that crap.

So what's next?

Wildlife, that's what.

Nope, not these blowhards.

They don't need my help.

I'm here for these guys.

Nature's benchwarmers.

I'm talking grade-A freaks

and their freakin' bizarre,
weird, freakshow lives.

Get ready for the Underdogs.

♪ I wanna be your underdog ♪

These guys are
the grossest, weirdest...

♪ I'm not number one,
but I'm second to none ♪

...the most unlikely stars
in the great movie of life.

♪ Heroes are overrated
when you are the outlaw ♪

Now it's their time to shine.

♪ Cuz I wanna be
your underdog ♪

Wherever there is
blatant mischief,

wherever there is
abject cowardice,

wherever there is unbearable
sexual tension...

...that's where you'll find
the underdogs.

You tell 'em, Green Day.

♪ I'm not a loser ♪

♪ I'm not a loser ♪

♪ I wanna be your underdog ♪

I'm Ryan Reynolds.

♪ I wanna be your underdog ♪

And I endorse these weirdoes.

For animals, life is
kinda like a game.

They need to gather resources
and overcome obstacles

to achieve their objectives.

And this game is hard,

especially for an underdog.

So sometimes you have
to play dirty to win.

And I mean disgusting.

Hang on to your lunch, kids,

because it's time to play
Total Grossout.

First up, somebody who's found
a "hole" new way

to protect themself
from predators

on the reefs of Polynesia.

You'll get that joke
in a second.

This is a pearlfish,

and right now,
she has a pretty big problem.

She's almost invisible
in the nighttime,

but she's stayed out
past her bedtime,

and...

if a predator
spots her now,

it's gonna be game over.

Mmm, yep. Like that.

That's one way to go.

Right, let's try again.

Oookay.

Pearlfish, round two.

Okay, swimming.

Swimming...

Yadda, yadda, yadda, yadda.

Staying away from the bad guys.

No, yep, nope, nope,
not that way.

Gotta find a hiding place,
and fast.

Nope, nope, not there.

Now if you've played
video games at all,

you know there's a boss
around here somewhere.

And if you're a real gamer,
you know there's two options:

run toward danger and fight,

or hide and hope it goes away.

And what do we have here?

A gigantic sea turd.

Let's pixelate that out.

Oh, no, sorry, that's--
no, that is a sea cucumber.

I'm so sorry, that's not, uh,

that is not the of
a lumberjack, if I may say so.

It not only oozes deadly toxins

but it also breathes
out of its butt.

Because dreams
really do come true.

But when your life
depends on it,

sometimes you got to get
a little creative.

Is that it... yawning...
with its butt?

Okay.

Okay, well,
whatever it's doing,

that open portal presents
the pearlfish with a solution.

Understandably,
that sea cucumber

is a little unsure.

I know I would be.

But it can't clench forever.

Now is her chance.

A layer of mucus protects her
from the toxins,

and...

Ohhh.

Reverse parking. Mmm.

You see, the underdogs, they
know that in the game of life,

an unthinkably revolting
solution can save your ass,

and an ass can save your life.

Who has access to my memoir
and why is this plagiarized?

But you can't solve

all your problems

by hiding in a butthole.

Sometimes the game of life
requires you

to go on the offensive.

And these filthy animals
invented the term offensive.

Actually, it was the Romans,

uh, the Romans invented
the word offensive and Rubicon

and scuttlebutt.

I'm sorry, what's that? No?

Anyway, this adorable little
creature is a tortoise beetle.

And at first glance,
she's not disgusting at all,

which is refreshing.

Clean feet.

Clean antennae.

She does not like dirt one bit.

Total neat freak.

Which is unfortunate,

as she's about
to become a new mom,

and, as we all know,
kids are absolutely disgusting.

All of them.

Yep, yours, too.

Yeah, and mine.

Full hazmat.

They may be just the size
of a grain of rice.

I'm guessing that's
short grain, not long?

But they're still big eaters.

And all that food
has to go somewhere.

And that somewhere, yep,

is a couple of
poop-collecting spikes

right next to their butts.

Oh, my ,
it just gets worse.

But notice that momma beetle,

she's not reaching
for the baby wipes.

And that's because all this
dried-on poop has a purpose.

Killer ants would
devour her newborns

without a moment's hesitation.

And I wonder, are they
available for babysitting?

Ants hunt by smell and can
sniff out beetle larvae

faster than your Uncle Tim

can chug a box of chardonnay
at Christmas.

Time for mom to put
her disgust aside,

and reveal her tactical genius.

Like a well-drilled Roman army,

her poop-encrusted babies
line up into formation.

And mom climbs aboard.

Maximus Mom-imus has a plan.

They just need to hold.

Hold!

Hooold!

Present arms!

And wave that poop!

For an ant that
can't see very well,

and lives in a world of scent,

this experience must be
a little unexpected.

Apparently, the world's
greatest scientists

are still debating exactly how
the poop waving repels the ant.

Really, they think
that's a mystery?

I think my fellow parents
will agree

that when it comes
to chemical weapons,

a dirty diaper, well,
it beats just about anything.

So, playing dirty can keep you
and your offspring in the game.

But what about when the game
is an epic quest?

And I don't know,
what if science was real

and called it migration?

Sea cows!

Now, I know what
you're thinking,

manatees aren't gross,
they're adorable.

The mythical inspiration
for mermaids.

But I assure you,
the gross is coming.

Meet our hardworking single mom
and her precious only child,

we're gonna call her Nezzy.

Except all the letters
are silent,

it's pronounced.

It's winter here in Florida,

and it's very cold
for manatees.

But mom has a plan,

and she's taking little Nezzy

to a very special,
almost sacred place,

where the water is warm and
manatees assemble once a year

like a manatee Christmas

or Coachella without all
the sex, drugs and dysentery.

The problem is,
it's hundreds of miles away.

And there's another thing,

Mom and Nezzy are
running out of fuel.

Mom needs to make a pitstop
to feed herself

and get Nezzy the milk
she desperately needs

to complete the journey.

Lots of seagrass down there, so
you know, what's the problem?

Well, the problem is

Mom is a bit of a...

yeah, a floater.

Gas from all her
previous grassy meals

has built up in her body,

causing her to become stranded
at the surface.

And if she can't feed herself
or Nezzy, they'll die.

And whose fault is that, Mom?

If only nature had a way
of expelling excess gas

from the body.

Oh, yeah, like a pro.

While these bubbles are
something you never want to see

in a shared bath
on a first date,

they're a vital part of
buoyancy control for manatees.

It's like the submarine movie
when Sean Connery is like,

"Dive, dive, you shtupid boys!"

but he's playing a Russian,

but he's speaking
with a Scottish accent,

because, you know,
movie stars, lazy.

Anyway, having lost gas
and descended,

she can finally gorge herself
on seagrass.

Then it's back to the surface
for Nezzy to get her meal,

by latching onto a nipple
in Mom's armpit.

There's nothing weird
about that at all.

Accept it. Let it happen.

And then it's swim,

eat,

fart, repeat.

Like Uncle Tim
on New Year's Eve.

All the way to their
paradise destination.

Lovely.

But they don't care
about the view.

The water from the power plant
is clean and it's warm.

And winter here is like
one giant, communal

bodily gas-powered
jacuzzi spa from hell.

Like only Florida
could deliver.

Everything a manatee mom
and calf could ask for.

You kick back and relax, Nezzy.

You earned it.

Self-defense, epic quests,

let's keep this gross
gameplay going

by meeting an underground
underdog.

We're deep down inside
a New Zealand cave.

But someone down here is about
to turn on the lights.

Oooooh.

Venture down here after dark
and you're gonna feel like

you've been cast
as an extra in Avatar,

or you've accidentally dropped
acid instead of aspirin.

So who's the creator
of this dazzling array?

Ohh!

This filthy dungeon dweller
is the larva

of a carnivorous fungus gnat,
and she is hungry.

All this twinkly stuff is
her way of luring in

the food she needs to transform
into an adult.

And the key to it all is mucus.

For over 200 days,
she and her friends

dribble out
strings of special slime,

festooning their gnat cave

with a combination of urea,
silk and water.

The episode,
it's called "Total Grossout,"

you knew what you were
getting into.

Then, ah, the final touch.

Using a chemical reaction
in their butts...

Yup, you heard me.

...they light up their garlands
like snot chandeliers...

...to create the world's
most beautiful death trap.

And here comes
the perfect victim.

A mayfly.

High in protein,
but low in smarts.

All he sees is a beautiful
night sky to navigate by.

Now comes phase two of
the fungus gnat's strategy.

She slowly hauls up
the still-alive mayfly

into her loving embrace.

By loving embrace, I mean
that she liquefies his body

and sucks him up
like a milkshake.

A few more meals like this, and
she turns herself into a pupa.

Even though, rightly, it should
probably be the authorities.

And 12 days later, she emerges

as a magnificent
adult butterfly--

oh, no, she hatches into an
adult carnivorous fungus gnat.

Gross.

Ready to carpe the heck
out of that diem.

Hello, world!

Hello, sky.

Oh, hello, neighbor's
death trap snot hammock.

Well, I never said she was
smart. Circle of life.

Bye for now.

So an occasional
act of grossness

can help you beat a level.

But some underdogs
have made being filthy

their entire gameplay strategy.

This is a three-toed sloth.

He's never washed.

Ever.

And now there's
an entire ecosystem

living off the dirt
in his fur...

...turning him green.

But that is his secret hack.

As long as he stays
in the canopy,

being green and grimy keeps him
hidden from his main predator.

The harpy eagle.

But these sloths like
to live dangerously...

in the slow lane.

About once a week
these unsung daredevils

leave the safety of the canopy

to climb all the way
down their tree,

an activity so dangerous, more
than half of them die doing it.

Oh!

I think that was Uncle Alan.

See you in the next life,
buddy.

Now, science may have finally
figured out the mystery

of why these sloths would make
a move so dangerous, so often,

an immediate "game over,"
and we can reveal the answers

just as soon as he gets there,

which will take...
a long... time.

Come on, man.

Time is money.

Come on, let's go, brother,

every moment
your life is at risk!

Sorry, this can take how long?

No, we don't have time
for that.

Yes, you're right,
I don't have time for that.

Yes, I'm costing you
a lot of money.

Let's move on.

Some underdogs are so deeply
into grossout tactics,

they actually find it
a turn-on.

But I'm not telling you
anything more,

because you're probably not
even a real therapist.

This is Ireland.

And this is Craig,
a male red deer

hoping to mate
for the first time.

He's just got one problem.

Mating season is
a little... fighty.

Males beat the crap
out of one another

in a predictably macho attempt
to impress the ladies.

You dumb buck.

And no one is worse
than this guy.

Craig's arch rival,
the dominant male.

But some of the ladies,

they can sniff out
an insecure alpha a mile away.

This is Jane Doe.

A deer, a female deer.

I'm so sorry.
I had to do it.

And to use local parlance,

she thinks the dom is a lazy,
beef-witted stick.

But Craig, he's not like
those other bucks.

He's a nice guy.

He's, all he's gotta do
is get Jane to notice him.

The trouble is, when
it comes to strategies

for impressing Jane that
don't involve fighting,

most of the guys have no idea.

I'm so sorry.
Won't happen again.

And some of them just aren't
into Jane in the first place.

But Craig knows there is one
other thing a male deer can do

to impress a female.

He waits until just
the right moment, and...

Sweet Michael Fassbender,
now that is a move!

Oh, Craig, you crazy.

I think I want to
have your baby.

Craig is spraying himself
in a mixture of pee and semen

on purpose.

As cologne goes,
well, that's a bold choice.

But thanks to all those
sweet-smelling pheromones,

Jane loves it.

And while the dom
is busy fighting,

she sneaks off for a round
with fragrant Craig.

Avert your eyes.

This isn't for you.

This is just for me.

Oh, okay, that was fast.

Way to level up, Craig.

I guess beauty really is
in the eye of the beholder,

or in this case, the nose.

And if you think
that was gross,

hold onto your hippos,

because it's time
for a full-on assault.

Ass-sault.

Ass... sault.

This is...

Yep, ooh, okay,
I'm gonna just call him Po.

After a hard day
patrolling the riverbank,

he's heading back
to his wallow,

to the somewhat awkward company
of his many exes.

And his various kids.

Oops, mind the little one.

But Po's peaceful home life

is about to get
turned upside down.

Upriver, water holes
are drying up.

Space is running out.

Rival males are
starting battles

over access to deep water.

And when two of the most
dangerous animals on the planet

go head to head,

outcomes can be...

decisive.

Now, one of the most murder-y

of all these roly-poly
anger bags

is heading in Po's direction
looking for a spot to steal.

Even if it means killing Po
and stealing his family.

But Po's, well, he's not
doing anything.

Po, did you hear me?

He's a maniac.

He's gonna steal your home,
you could lose your family.

It's, it's time
to do something.

But Po isn't crazy enough

to take this intruder on
face-to-face.

Not when he's got a special
ability in his skillset.

♪ You better run
for your life ♪

♪ You are not prepared
for tonight ♪

♪ You better run
for your life ♪

♪ You are not prepared
for tonight ♪

The family knows what's coming.

♪ You don't have
a chance in sight ♪

♪ You better run
for your life ♪

And they do not want
to be collateral.

♪ I ain't trynna
bring you down ♪

♪ But for real, you might
as well give up now ♪

♪ Think you got a chance
but I don't see how ♪

♪ Got a real tight grip
when I hold that crown ♪

♪ Came here ready to fight ♪

♪ On this night
you better just... ♪

♪ Run for your life ♪

♪ Aaaaaaah ♪

Po's special move is
to spray his rival

with his own fffffeces.

Yes, there it is.

There are those who tastefully
call this defense

a defecation fan.

And note the oscillation,
the skill, the poise.

But I know a poop-nado
when I see one.

The bad guy can't get
out of there fast enough.

That's one way to defeat
the big bad boss of this level.

Leaving Po and his family safe.

♪ Run for your life ♪

♪ Run for your ♪

And while we're on
the topic of winning,

looks like Mr. Persistence here

has finally reached
the bottom of the tree.

But will never reach
the Olympics.

But why spend an eternity

descending into
dangerous territory?

It's so he can download his
weekly poop at ground level.

Yes, he could have dropped it
out of a tree

like a jungle meteorite--

I would have--

but he risked danger
for the sake of these guys.

The roughly 120 moths living
on his disgusting body

are the key to his
lifesaving camouflage.

But they can only lay
their eggs down here,

in his excrement.

Some sloth poopologists think
that by holding it in

until he reaches
the bottom of the tree,

the sloth helps breed
camouflaging moths,

which keep him green
by pooping in his fur,

so he can poop more safely,

and then they can lay babies
in the poop, and he can poop,

and they can poop, and so on
for the rest of time.

Now all he has to do
is climb back up.

Good luck!

The world's underdogs have
grossout moves for overcoming

just about every problem
life can throw at them.

So just how gross do you
have to be to succeed

in the most challenging
level of all?

A massive multi-character
arena-based death match.

Or as it's known
in the animal kingdom,

the African savanna.

Chock-full of swaggering
bigshot bosses

like these showboats.

The trick is, like prison,
on the first day,

you gotta shank
the biggest guy you see.

You got to establish dominance.

So when they're taking all
the best loot for themselves,

the underdogs have to win
the game another way.

By getting over
their gag reflex

and going for the stuff
nobody else wants.

In this case,
a tasty smorgasbord

of offal, intestines,
and bones,

seasoned with a pinch of
anthrax, a dash of botulism,

and cholera to taste.

It's like nature's
gas station sushi

but less biochemical weapon-y.

Not my idea of lunch, but then
I'm not one of these guys.

Meet username VisceraVoyager23.

Because NoobMaster69
had some rights issues.

Vultures aren't big
on hunting or fighting,

but when it comes to happily
devouring the contents

of a rancid,
fly-infested boneyard,

they are the pro gamers.

To keep this metaphor going,
their stats are impressive.

They can fly up to 35,000 feet,
cover 200 miles a day

and spot a three-foot carcass
from four miles away.

And when VV23 drops in...

...she squads up with a whole
party of sidekicks,

each with a special skillset
more disgusting than the last.

VisceraVoyager is what
scientists call a ripper,

or what Australians
call a rippah.

Great at breaking down
the tough stuff.

While her buddy GoreReaper
is a gulper

with a head specially suited
to getting the good stuff

out of all those
hard-to-reach places.

♪ Because we are your friends ♪

♪ You'll never be alone again ♪

♪ Well, come on ♪

And Player 3, Insert Name,
is what's known as a scrapper.

♪ Because we are your friends ♪

And he's going in for
just a little slice.

♪ Well, come on ♪

And finally, there's butt guy.

Not exactly an attribute,
more of a personal preference.

You go get him, butt guy.

When it comes to mining
a putrefying carcass...

...everyone can play a part.

The end of the day,

vultures are team players
in the game of life.

♪ Because we are your friends ♪

♪ You'll never be alone again ♪

♪ Well, come on ♪

♪ Well, come on ♪

♪ Well, come on ♪

♪ Well, come on ♪

Not only would
the world be knee-deep

in dead bodies without them,

their super-strong stomach acid
digests away all the toxins,

all the bacteria,
that if left unchecked,

would leave other animals
terribly sick,

or crapping through
the eye of a needle.

Literally, and some might
even say heroically,

saving their lives.

So thanks to the vultures, the
world is kept clean of disease,

pestilence, and well, whatever
it is that guy's eating.

And Mother Nature, and all her
charges, can keep on playing.

What's that? Thank you?

You're welcome, Mr. Buffalo.

Well, there you have it, the
underdogs' secret to winning

the game of life simply by
being their disgusting selves.

So bring on the poop, bring on
the butt-burp buoyancy aids,

the defecation fans,
show me the snot hammocks,

shower me in
semen-scented cologne,

install me a butthole saferoom.

Okay, even I've hit
my own grossout limit,

so let's just,
we're gonna shut it down.