Original subtitles

CYRIL: Gott im Himmel!

I knew it, those damn cannibals have taken Schmidt.

See?

Look there: a blood trail.

-Das ist Blut. -Armer Schmidt.

So let's follow it und kill those savages.

Are you quite insane?

There could be scores of them.

Hundreds, even.

Yeah, with sticks and stones.

Ja, and maybe poison arrows.

-Schweinhunden. -Mein Gott.

We need reinforcements. Schneider!

Luckily, there is a Kriegsmarine transport nearby,

heading for Nauru.

Hello? Hello?!

Agent Fuchs der Abwehr hier.

Ich muss mit deinem Kapitan sprechen.

With a bit of luck,

soon, we will have a platoon of marine Sturmtruppen.

(chuckles)

(Pam gasps)

-Sturmtruppen? -Damn it.

Wait, what are Sturmtruppen?

It means "storm troopers."

-Ah, crap. -Yeah, that doesn't sound good.

Well, it is a cognate.

-What? -Cognate.

Those are words with a common etymological origin.

Not the word, Poindexter.

The fact that there's a thing called that.

Yeah, and how many guys in a platoon?

Like, 40.

-Wait, were you in the Army? -Army Air Corps.

Hmm. Well, that doesn't do us much good.

Hey, neither does your missing arm.

-Hey. -But if my almost totally nonexistent understanding

-of military history is correct... -Why would...?

Noah, shut up--

then I'm pretty sure we can expect

several waves of attacks,

wherein the attackers will steadily increase

in both number and in skill,

until we face a final, climactic attack

by a sort of uberattacker,

a boss, if you will.

-Translate that. -Ah.

Boroka handiak, boroka boss.

-Mm. -Wait, was that it or...?

-Broad strokes. -Huh. Well, now tell him we need

to build a network of defenses out of whatever's on hand,

while also training everybody--

the men, the women, these nubile teenage girls

I really hope are at least 18,

maybe some of the chubbier kids,

I mean everybody, all of them-- to fight.

Mm-hmm, mm-hmm. Zuri gotiak boroka.

Boroka dugu. Zenbat ordo?

Um, uh, so they're eager to fight,

and how much time do we have?

-Just a couple hours. -Seriously?

Yeah. So, obviously, we're gonna have to montage

the shit out of this thing.

Will you tell him what a montage is?

Yeah, I don't think "montage" would translate.

They-they don't really have a strong filmic tradition.

-And whose fault is that, Noah? -Well, I mean...

Jesus, you are the fucking worst.

♪

Yeah, so if we had filmed all that training and preparation

and then sort of cut it down to just the good parts

and set that to some bouncy music,

that would've been a montage.

I honestly wouldn't even know where to start.

Try Eisenstein, you asshole.

All right, let's see what we got!

Kusta dugu!

ARCHER: Um, okay!

Good job, I guess!

Ona gudari!

(grunting)

ARCHER: Good-looking tiger trap, ladies!

-Ona trampak! -Don't forget to smear

those stakes with feces!

Poopoo! Poopoo!

-Oh, come on. -What?

That's what they call it.

(grunting)

ARCHER: Oh, man.

-Thanks, tribal elders! -Ona zahara!

ARCHER: Uh-oh, what are Nazi Laurel and Hardy up to?

-(grunting) -Wow.

-Literally another fine mess. -Mm,

that's not gonna translate.

(chuckles) I mean, A) it's sarcasm,

B) they're not gonna get the reference, and...

And C) shut up and... Oh, my God,

what's that big, crazy, man-killing bastard?

Let's call it the widow-maker!

NOAH: Well, that's also not gonna translate.

ARCHER: Noah, goddamn it, if you don't...

Wait, where's my Chub Club?

(chuckles): Yeah! There they are!

Um...

That's okay. Uh, shake it off

and get some more poison darts from Pam.

Pozo Pamu.

Aw, come on! This bullshit is boring as balls.

-Huh. -(frog croaks)

(croaking distorting)

(chuckles) I wish to amend my previous statement.

Okay. All right, all right.

So, um, criticisms.

I think we maybe could've spent a little more time

practicing actual combat

and a little less making the Nazi logs.

But, overall, great job, everybody.

Ona lanara!

(cheering, laughter)

Okay, Noah, tell the chief

the most important thing to remember is...

-MALORY: Sterling? -Wha...?!

-Mother?! -What in the hell are you wearing?

I-I mean...

Master Coconut!

Pam, shut up. What are you doing here?

Well, we came to rescue...

The sacred idol!

-What? -Nuh-uh.

-Goddamn it! -(chuckles)

We're searching for the sacred idol!

What is wrong with you?

What's wrong with you?

And who the hell told you about...?

Oh, you goddamn blabbermouth bird.

They already knew about it, and they were gonna leave you

in the quicksand while they looked for it.

-What? -Nuh-uh. -Damn it, bird.

Are you-- Mother, is that true?

You were just gonna let us die?

Oh, please. What do you think we're doing here?

We came to rescue you from these bloodthirsty cannibals, which...

Oh, yeah, no.

-They're cool. -Well...

Mother, this is the cannibal chief.

Chief, my lying and scheming mother.

Charmed, I'm sure.

So they're not cannibals?

Oh, no, they're totally cannibals,

but we've temporarily teamed up

to fight some Nazi storm troopers.

-Wait, what? -Mon Dieu.

Storm troopers?

-It's a cognate. -Noah?

MUA MUA (chanting): Kalua... Kalua... Kalua...

And what is happening right now?

-Kalua. -What is kalua?

It means... goddess.

(laughing): Wow, okay, that's embarrassing.

Tell them I'm not an actual goddess,

but merely a direct descendant of, um,

whosits, their god, um, what's-his-face.

No, no, no, no, no, they-they don't mean you.

They mean her.

-Huh? -(others exclaim)

-MALORY: Oh, for the love... -Kalua... Kalua... Kalua...

Wow, that is embarrassing.

Oh, shut up.

I'll tell you what's embarrassing,

is getting slaughtered by a bunch of Nazi storm troopers.

So, can we all please focus? Noah, tell them to focus.

Uh... (sighs) Uzuka, bita kuju.

Bita kuju!

-Aw. -Well, on the bright side,

if you don't get murdered, maybe you can move here

and be worshipped as a goddess.

What mere mortal dare speak to Kalua?

Mm, okay.

CYRIL: Okay!

Listen up!

These savage cannibals have murdered

and by now, let's be honest,

probably eaten one of your Kameraden.

So we are going to destroy their village and everyone in it.

Men, women, and--

You there! What are you eating?

Well, did you bring enough for everyone?

CYRIL: Well, then what are you waiting for?

-Pass them out. -(cheering)

Now, any questions?

Uh...

It's just something we're doing.

Mmm, I forget why.

Und also shut up.

(chewing)

ARCHER: Psst. Noah. You've told them

to hold their fire until the Krauts are in close, right?

-Mm-hmm. -And to fall back

-when they start to get overrun? -Mm-hmm.

And to-- wait, what is wrong with you?

What, are you kidding? I'm scared.

Oh. Well, yeah. I mean, that's normal.

Uh, no, I think I'm scareder than that.

Trust me, however scared you think you are, it's...

I pissed in my pants, man.

Still well within normal.

Nobody else pissed in their pants.

Well, but remember, they're not wearing pants.

-That's not... -ARCHER: Plus,

there is no way

they can possibly imagine

the unspeakable things

that modern firearms can do to the human body.

So... try not to get shot.

That's it? That's your advice?

ARCHER (whispering): That's really good advice.

CHERYL: Isn't this exciting?

What, being held against our will

while we get attacked by Nazis?

Or discovering the one culture on Earth

that lacks a basic knowledge of fermentation?

I don't know, I guess all of it?

(liquid splashing)

(inhales) Hmm, now what have we here?

I could've found that stupid idol

and been halfway to New York by now.

(coughs) Oh, no.

That idol's all mine, missy.

Yeah, well, we'll see about that.

Out of the way, Blimpkins.

Are you...? You are serious.

Hey, can you please tell him to move?

Who calls upon the almighty Kalua?!

-Ugh. -Yeah, that's not already old.

Your Almightiness, did I hear you say

you were hungry for oysters?

(gasps) Yes. Mortal.

Fetch me some bivalves.

Budge up, biggun.

-What? -Back in a jiff.

Toodles.

-PAM: Any sign of 'em? -KRIEGER: No,

because I don't have binocular vision.

-I'm totally wasted here. -Me, too.

(chuckles) Well, not totally, but...

No, and stop that.

I should be in the air, like a reconnaissance plane.

Yeah, right, like you'd come back.

Wh...? I came back. I'm here.

Yeah, nice decision tree, bird.

And where the hell'd you get that?

-Made it. -What, when?

I don't know, a minute ago.

Whatever's in these crazy bastards is, like...

really helping me focus.

-It's poison. -(scoffs) So's booze.

What's up your dickhole?

I just-- all these people put their trust in me,

and what if I fail them?

What if, what if I get them all killed?

PAM: I mean, they were gonna eat us, so...

ARCHER: That's a fair point.

Hey, you know, people eat birds all the time.

Why is that okay?

'Cause birds are delicious.

Well, you're probably not, but...

I bet I'm totally delicious.

(laughing): Oh, please, you were born in the 1800...

-(explosion) -(screaming)

-What the hell was that?! -Mortar!

CYRIL: Fire!

(shell whistling)

(screaming)

(screams)

(laughs) My God, listen to that.

You can hear their women scream from here!

(inhales, laughs)

So I hope someone brought potatoes.

(whoops) Fire!

(shell whistling)

Merde!

Doudou, devrions-nous courir?

Jésus, tu es le pire putain.

(screaming)

Nazi punks, fuck off!

We got to take out that mortar!

Yeah, but how?

I'm gonna charge it.

(Pam and Krieger laugh)

What?

(inhales, groans) What did you say?

No. Fire!

Okay, Noah. You're gonna go back to the States,

and you're gonna tell Dad he was right,

and you're gonna take that job at... (grunts)

at Uncle Mort's modeling agency.

And guess what. You're just going

to have to start slathering tanning oil

on Swedish bikini models.

-(shouts) -That's it, I'm going for it.

-Mm-kay. -Good luck.

-That's it? -KRIEGER AND PAM: I mean...

MALORY: Sterling!

What are you doing, running around?

The air's, like, 50% metal.

Well, exactly, and speaking of percentages,

you seem to have this whole thing pretty well in hand,

so I thought I'd just toodle off

and see if I can't find that pesky idol.

-Are you...? -For us. Me and you, 50-50.

-I... -He has partners, you know.

Oh, my God.

Well, if he wants to give you half of his half,

that's his business, but...

What half? What happened to thirdsies?

Yeah, what did happen to thirdsies?

Wait, since when was it thirdsies?

Oh, my God. First of all, we...

Wait, what are you drinking?

Apparently, it's some kind of beer made from some jungle fruit

these people chew into a paste

and then spit into these gourds to ferment.

(spits)

It's a bit like a phlegm sangria.

(man groans nearby)

Hmm. Is it good?

-(inhales) You know... -(screams nearby)

Son of a-- that was my only gourd.

-Give me that. -Wha...? What are you...?

(screaming, groaning)

Nazi sons of bitches.

She took out the whole mortar team.

What?! I was gonna do that.

-(chuckling): Okay. -(chuckling): Yeah, right.

-Here. I think it's broken. -I...

And, look, the natives are rallying.

(all crying out)

(all scream)

CYRIL: Ja, ja.

Schiesse diese Scheie!

Schneider, radio the ship.

Tell them we need...

Well, a new Schneider, for one.

(sighs)

Batu baruka! Batu baruka!

(grunting)

Because I don't want to die in a hut,

defiled by Nazi storm troopers!

Well, I can't die. I'm immortal.

But even though time is meaningless to me,

what is taking so long with these oysters?

(chuckles): Well, don't ask him,

'cause he sure as hell doesn't have any.

-Meaning? -He's a eunuch?

Oh, come on. He has no testicles.

-Ew. And also, so? -So,

what do you think these people use for oysters?

Uh, presumably oysters?

-Balls. -Wait, what?

-Why would they eat...? -Because they're cannibals.

Cannibals don't only eat people.

I'm sure they have side salads.

You think he eats a lot of salad?

I think if I tell him to, he'll eat you.

(clears throat) I take your point.

(mockingly): Muh, muh, muh, muh.

(laughs)

(screaming)

Fall back! Fall back! Fall back!

Where the... Noah? Noah?

NOAH: Y-Yeah?

What are you doing, Noah?

Oh, I-I'm hiding under this corpse.

-But otherwise...? -I mean...

Well, then, can you please tell them to fall back

so we can lure these Nazi pukes into our killing zones?

Oh, yes, yes. Of course.

Oh, now! Sorry. Uh, atzera!

Atzera!

Atzera! Batu baruka atzera!

And how do you say "get ready"?

-Um... -Noah!

Oh, no, sorry. Kokatu. Kokatu.

-Thanks, idiot. -Yep!

ARCHER: Kokatu!

Kokatu!

(Noah sighs)

ARCHER: Kokatu! Kokatu!

They are retreating.

Attack! Attack!

Vorwarts!

(all crying out)

Kokatu! Kokatu!

Kokatu!

What is that?

What is he screaming?

Here come the Krauts.

Ugh, finally.

They might have schnapps.

-(screams) -(grunts)

Yeah! Aw, man.

-Did you see that? -(chuckling): Yeah.

That was the pits. Am I right?

-Eh. -Eh. -Oh, whatever.

Shut up, bird.

Nein! Nein!

Was ist los? Was ist los?

ARCHER (laughs): It's working!

-Chief, it's working. -Mmm.

Chief, you are a tough room.

(speaking German)

Woooooo!! Chub Club!

-That was the last of 'em. -Yeah!

-Take that, you Nazi bastards. -(Mua Mua cheering)

Well, don't just stand there and gawk.

Go loot their corpses for schnapps.

(cheering continues)

Huh.

(Mua Mua chanting)

ARCHER: What are they chanting?

NOAH (chanting): Death to whites.

No offense.

Death to whites. No offense.

-Oh. -Yeah. Again, they're super racist.

-But also weirdly polite. -Eh.

We showed those German bastards, eh?

What we? Where the hell were you?

Fighting those German bastards.

-Yeah, right. -Uh-huh.

I shot maybe ten German bastards.

Okay, well, as long as I get the credit

for the winning battle plan, I...

Victory is mine!

All hail Kalua!

Uh, you don't.

-(woman screams) -(all gasp)

-(gasps) -(screams)

(loud thudding)

(all gasp)

(all scream)

Huh? (screams)

(all cheering)

Way to go, toothless old lady.

And now I think it's feast o'clock.

Hey, shouldn't we, um, go make sure

that guy's, like, dead or whatever?

No, dummy. Why do you think they call it the widow-maker?

-Well, yeah, but you made that up. -(Mua Mua chanting)

Probably won't get credit for that, either.

(chanting): Teko! Besta! Teko! Besta!

Teko! Besta!

(Cyril grunting)

(whimpers)

(laughing maniacally)

(children laugh)

ARCHER: Woooooo!!

Oh, man. Are feasts not the best?

Not this one. Don't eat that!

Come on, try it.

It tastes like chicken.

I don't eat chicken.

Yes! Finally, oysters.

NOAH: Oh, fun fact: even though they serve those

on oyster shells,

they're actually human testicles.

-LANA: Ha! -(sighs)

Well, I mean, at this point...

You know? (chuckles)

-(retches) -Oh, wait.

Oh, thank God.

Noah, how do you say "mignonette"?

Oh, it's the same. "Mignonette."

-Seriously? -Oh, come on. -What?

Yeah, it's a loanword.

(sighs) Just the worst.

MAN: Made in Georgia.

Captioned by Media Access Group at WGBH