All language subtitles for Zoot Suit 1981 1080p BluRay H264 AAC-RARBG 2 English

Here are the keys, ese.
Take it easy.

Yes, sir.

Hey, take it easy!

♪ Put on a zoot suit

♪ Makes you feel real root

♪ Look like a diamond

♪ Sparkling, shining

♪ Ready for dancing

♪ Ready for
the boogie tonight

♪ All the hepcats
up in Harlem
wear that drape shape

♪ Como los pachucones
down in.

♪ Where huisas
in their pompadours
look real keen

♪ On the dance floor
of the ballrooms
donde bailan swing

♪ You better get hip tonight

♪ And put on a zoot suit

Hey, baby doll.

Hey, pretty. What's shaking?

Hey, man,
you call that dancing?

Downey!Rifa!

It's not your night.

Rafas!

♪ Wear that carlango

♪ Dance with your huisa

♪ Dance to
the boogie tonight

♪ 'Cause the zoot suit
is the craze in California

♪ They're wearing
that tacuche en El Paso

♪ You better get hip tonight

♪ And put on a zoot suit ♪

Ladies and gentlemen,

the mono you're about to see
is a construct of
fact and fantasy.

But relax, weigh the facts,

and enjoy the pretence.

Our pachuco realities
will only make sense if
you grasp their stylization.

It was the secret fantasy
of every vato living in
or out of the pachucada

to put on the zoot suit
and play the myth.

Ese.

Extra! Extra!

Ese!

What the hell's
going on, ese?

The city's cracking down
on pachucos, carnal.

Don't you read
the newspapers?

"Death Awakens Sleepy Lagoon."

Extra!

The cops ain't got
nothing on me,
and you know it.

You're Henry Reyna, carnal.

Hank Reyna.

The zoot-suiter.

The bitter young
pachuco gang leader
from 38th Street.

That's what they got
on you, ese.

They can't do this to me, ese.
They can't lock me up!

Haven't I taught you
to survive?

It's all
a marijuana dream, loco.

And I was supposed to report
to the Navy tomorrow.

Muy Popeye the Sailor Man, uh?

You just couldn't stand
to see me go, could you?

They were gonna
cut off your D.A., carnal.

Give you those tight
puto pants, make your
ass look like an apricot.

So what business is it
of yours? It's my ass.

Muy patriotic.

The Japs have
sewed up the Pacific.
Rommel's kicking ass in Egypt.

But the mayor of L.A.
has declared an all-out war
on Chicanos.

On you. Te curas?

Look, ese,
I don't wanna hear that.

And as soon as Uncle Sam
finds out you're in jail
again, pues, ya estuvo.

"Unfit for military duty
because of your record."

Forget the war overseas,
carnal.

Your war is
on the home front.

City of the Angels.
Monday, August 2, 1942.

Press release.
Los Angeles Police Department.

A huge show up of nearly
300 boys and girls

rounded up last night
by police
and sheriff's deputies,

will be held tonight,
8:00, Central Jail,
First and Hill Street.

Victims of assaults, rape,
robbery, purse snatching
and similar crimes

are asked to be present
for the identification
of suspects.

I don't believe
you really want to be
in the Navy, Hank.

Pachuco shit's hitting
the wartime fan. You go around
dressed like a target.

I was born a target.
Orale.

Right here in L.A.
Simon.

So what's the phony charges
this time?

Oh, you jackass...
Can it, Smitty.

Don't tell them shit,
ese.

We know about the gang fight
Saturday night out
at the Sleepy Lagoon.

I don't know
what you're talking about.

You don't know
what I'm talking about?

What's this from?
What's that from?
Playing Parcheesi?

We've got
witnesses, Hank.

You and your pachucos drove
into that Williams Ranch
like Pancho Villa,

and you left a corpse behind,
a kid named Joe Sanchez.

I know 50 guys by that name.

How about Henry Reyna?
They a dime a dozen, too?

Nel, ese. There's only one.
This one.

Then you must be
the one we want.

Anchors aweigh, ese.
Goodbye, Navy.

Start talking, Hank.

The lieutenant's over there,
smart ass.

Screw you, flatfoot.

Why, you...

Hang tough, ese.

You don't deserve it,
but you're gonna
get it anyway.

Ah, forget it.
He's out cold.

Hey!

Hey!

Hey!

Get up
and escape, Henry.

Leave reality behind.

Escape through the barrio
streets of your mind.

Through a neighborhood
of memories,

all chuckhole-lined.

And the love and the pain,

as fine as wine.

It's a lifetime ago,
last Saturday night,

before the Sleepy Lagoon
and the big, bad fight.

Ah?

I'm home.

Ah, just in time.
Supper's ready.

Ah.

Where are the boys?
Inside.

- Henry.
- Yeah, ama.

Come and eat.

Ay. I thought you weren't
gonna wear that thing anymore.

Oh, ama,
just this one last time.
It's my farewell dance.

Hmm. I don't know.

I don't know what
you seen estas
cochinadas de suit zoots.

Drapes, ama.
We call them drapes.

Ah, si. Drapes, huh?
Zoot suit, esta.

Muy funny, verdad?
What are the police
calling them, uh?

They're arresting boys
right off the streets.

Chale!
Only the worst-dressed.

What?

Dolores!

I don't know.
I have a terrible feeling

that something bad
is going to happen.

Say, carnal...
Hmm.

It's all right, ese.
We can handle it.

It's just a good taco, ama.

Oye, oye!
What are you doing
with my coat?

Mytacuche, apa.
Chicano-style.

Chicano?

Hijo,
don't go out like that, eh?

Por favor.

You look like an idiot,
pendejo!

Ay, Enrique.
Rudy, sit down.

"Chicano." Haven't I told you
not to use that word?

It means you're trash.

You're Mexicanos.
Mexicanos!

You about ready to go, Rudy?
Where's the carnala?

Putting up her pompadour,
like always.

Come on, sis.
Step on it. We still
got to pick up Della!

I'm coming.

Della?
My compadre's daughter?

What happened to
what's-her-name?

Mmm, pues, which one?

Ooh,
you mean la Bertha.

That's the one,
the one with the tattoo.

Ay, senor.

Henry, sit down, mi hijo.

Oh, I'm not very hungry,
jefita.

Oh, look. Here's my share
for this week's refine.

Ay, no, hijo.
No, go ahead.

I got my last paycheck
at the shoe repair today.

I still can't believe
you're going off to war.

I almost wish
you were going back to jail.

The muchacho is finally
doing something right.

Eh...
I should know.

Chihuahua! When I was in
the Mexican Revolution...

Ay, no empieces con tu diablo
de revolution because we'll
be here all night.

What are you laughing at,
mensito? You worry about
getting yourself a job.

You're still eating here
for free.

All right, then.
Keep your pinche beans.
Rodolfo!

You see? You see how he is?
How long before
he ends up in jail, too?

Tell Lupe we'll be
waiting outside, ama.
Henry.

Come here, mi hijo.

Vieja,
where's my tequila?

Por que?
What are you gonna do?

The bottle, mujer!
And two glasses.

Just like the
saying goes, "From such
a stick, such a splinter."

So, you're taking out
my compadre's daughter, eh?

She's very pretty.

And very young, too.

Innocent. Tu sabes?

Mira, apa.
I'm not gonna do anything.

I know I can trust you.

I'm glad you're leaving
all this pachucomierda
behind you.

And I'm proud
you're in the Navy.

Just do me one favor, eh?

You know that switchblade
in your pocket?

Yeah, apa.

Rip apart
that goddamn silly suit.

Why bother
to wear anything?

You look like a puta...
Pachuca.

Where's the skirt?
Here.

Ah, jijo!
Where's the rest of it?

Ay, apa!

It's the latest
American style, like
the guys' drapes. Huh, Hank?

What's that?

It means,
"I'll see you later," jefe.

You got a match?

August 8, 1942.

Orale!
Here comes Hank.

Psst. Hey.

How about it, fellows?
What's the real scoop
on the story?

Sex? Violence?

- Marijuana?
- Yeah.

Sex.
Now go get screwed.

Kid, this is no time to be
antisocial. There's a war on.

What's a good-looking American
boy like you doing
with these beaners?

Dodging the draft?

They're gonna kill us
all the same.

Look, I can't believe it,
Hank.

Are they really
going to pin us
with a murder rap?

I got a wife and kid, ese.

"Zoot-Suited Goons
of Sleepy Lagoon."

Hey, that ain't bad, ese.

Listen to this pip-squeak.

About the biggest heist
he ever pulled
was his Tootsie Roll.

Here's your Tootsie Roll, ese.

Hey, knock it off!

Pachuco army
is falling apart, ese.
You better do something.

I don't need
your advice.

The last time I listened
to you, the bulls
gave me the saps.

What did you expect,
a parking ticket?

Mira, ese. The D.A.'s
indicted the whole
pinche gang for murder.

All except for
little brother Rudy.

He was at the Sleepy Lagoon,
too, throwing chingazos.

The cops don't know that.

They got ways of finding out.

Guacha!

Cop.

Hi, boys.

The name's George Shearer.
Your parents retained me to
handle your case.

You mind if we sit
and talk about it
a little bit?

Uh...
Did you say to sit down?

Thank you. Uh...

Uh-huh.

Well...

First thing we better do
is get your names straight.

Let's see here.
Who's Jose Castro?

Right here.

- Ismael Torres.
- Yeah, that's me.

But they call me Smiley.
Smiley?

Oh.

I see.

You must be
Thomas Roberts, huh?
I ain't Zoot Suit Yokum.

Well, that makes you
Henry Reyna.

So what if I am? Who are you?

I told you.
The name's George Shearer.
I'm a people's lawyer, Henry.

People's lawyer?

Simon, ese.
We're people.

At least they
didn't send no
animal's lawyer.

What does that mean?

You work for free
or what?

That's really none of
your damn business,
is it, Henry?

But for what it's worth,
I'll tell you a little story.

The first murder case
I ever tried,

and won, incidentally,
was for a Filipino.

I was paid exactly $3.50
plus a pack of
Lucky Strike cigarettes,

and a note for $1,000,
never redeemed.

Does that answer
your question?

Yeah, well, how do we know
you're really a lawyer?

Well, you think I'm a cop?
Maybe.

What are you trying to hide
from the cops? Murder?

Sabes que, Mr. Shearer?

Don't do us any favors.

All right. All right.
You want another lawyer.

All right, I'll talk
to the public defender's
office about it.

Wait a minute, ese,
where you going?

All right,
come on, kids.

Come on.
Cut the crap.

All right. All right!

It's fine,
everything's fine.

Thank you.

I think you're making
a big mistake.

I wonder if you, uh, know
who your friends really are.

You realize that you boys
are facing a mass trial?

Any of you know
what that means?

You're all going
on the block together,
the whole so-called

38th Street Gang.

The D.A.'s charging
conspiracy, Henry!

He's going to put
you and all your buddies
right in the gas chamber.

- But we didn't do nothing.
- Simon!

We're innocent.
On the level.

Okay,

say we believe your
people's lawyer stuff.
What does that prove?

The press has already
tried and convicted us.
You think you can change that?

I honestly don't know.

Public opinion
comes and goes, Henry.

What matters
is our system of justice.

I happen to believe
that it still works,

no matter how slowly
the wheels grind.

Hell, I promised your parents
the best defense
that I'm capable of.

The question is, Henry...

Will you trust me?

Chale!

We need a lawyer, ese.
You expect us
to defend ourselves?

What difference does it make?

"What difference
does it make?"

Who's epinche side
are you on, anyway?

The side of the heroes
and the fools, Hank.

Which one are you?

You're on.
Hey, good.

Same here.
It's about time.

All right.

Now let's get to work.
Now...

I want you guys to tell me
exactly what happened.

Right from the beginning.

Rafas pushed Rudy...

The pedo really
started at the dance
last Saturday night.

- Orale, little dude.
- Hey, Rudy!

Orale!
Who do you think you
are? Don't touch me!

How about a dance
for old time's sake?

Wanna trade partners?
Sorry, Bertha.

Is this your new huisa?

This little fly chick?

Come on, Berti.
Let's dance.

Golly.

Ese, Hank.
That's the Downey Gang.

Think they're looking
for pedo?

Nel, ese. There's only
a couple of them. Be cool.

"Be cool."
Huy, huy, huy.

Forget it, Smiley.
He's with
Shirley Temple.

She doesn't know
the difference
between being cool

and being culo.

Watch your mouth, Bertha.

Mmm!

Hank, I feel like
everybody's looking at us.

So? Give them the shine.

Hank, I'd really like
a cigarette.

Oh, yeah?
Yeah.

Okay, let's go for a smoke.

Hey, sailor.
How you doing?
Hey. Out of my way.

Hey, carnal!
What do you say,
brother?

Ese.

How do you feel?

I'm flying high, Jackson.
I'm feeling good.

I'm gonna join
the Army Air Force, carnal.

Simon, tail gunners.

Button up your fly, gunner.

Oof. Simon, ese.

Huisa, Lupe-Lu.

Rudy, if you go home
drunk again,

mi papa is going to use you
for a punching bag.

Right.

Are you
and your tomato going out
to the Sleepy Lagoon?

Why? You need an excuse
to take my sis, cabron?

What are you
looking at, ese?

Jesus, Hank,
have a little finesse.

Hey!

Hey, vato!

Ese, Rafas!

Maybe we should
take Rudy home.

Relax.

Everything's under control.

Come on. Let's dance.

Hey, man!

Don't push me
around, man!

It was
an accident, ese.
You're chicken shit.

Come on, carnal.
I can take care of myself.
Rudy, you're drunk.

I told you not to mess
with my familia, Rafas.

We were after the Navy bean.
Aguita la, ese.

Let's kick this
swab jockey's ass together.

I don't like the odds.

You think you're some kinda
hot shit just because the Navy
accepted you, huh, ese?

As if you didn't try?

You better go back to Downey,
ese, before you regret it.

Don't let him
tell you that, ese.

Toma, ese! That's what
I think of your puta Navy,
Army and Marines.

What are you
going to do about it?

I'm gonna have to
teach you some manners.

You and how
many queers?

Just me and you, cabron.

All right.
That's the way you
want it? You got it.

All right!

Come on.

Pues, that's exactly what
the show needs right now, ese.

Two more Mexicans
killing each other.

Guacha!

Everybody's looking
at you, ese.

Don't give me that bullshit.
I got this filero from you.

Did I tell you to
kill the vato?

Control yourself, Hank.

Don't hate your raza
more than you love the gringo.

- Get out of here. Pintate!
- What? Oh, shit!

I'll see you later.

Anytime, cabron,
after the war.

You did it, ese!

You were solid, Hank!
That was all reet.

He didn't do nothing.

The old Hank would have slit
that Rafas' bell

like a fat pig.

That's all I'm gonna take from
you, Bertha. It's over.

Come on, baby.

Buy U.S. war bonds!

Defeat Downey! 38 rifa!

Henry Reyna?

Hello. My name is
Alice Bloomfield,

and I represent the Congress
of Industrial Organizations.

Okay. So?

Henry,

I'm here to offer you
the support of
the working people.

And you're gonna need
the support of
the working people, Henry,

because the press
has been saying that
this pachuco crime wave...

That this pachuco crime wave

is fascist-inspired.

- Can you beat that?
- No.

They claim it's sinarquismo.

Sinarquismo.

"A fifth-column
fascist movement dancing to
tunes played by Rome,

"Tokyo, and Berlin,
as relayed
through Mexico City."

Did you ever hear of it?

This one's all yours, ese.

Look, lady, I ain't stupid,

but I don't know what the hell
you're talking about.

I'm talking about you,
Henry,

and what the Daily Press
has been saying about you.

Are you aware
you're in here

because some big shot up
in San Simeon wants to
sell a few papers?

It's true.
So what?

So he's the man that started
all this Mexican crime wave
stuff. You get the picture?

Somebody's using you
as a patsy.
Who you calling patsy?

I meant
a political victim.
What do you mean, "victim"?

Uh, look, let's back
this whole thing up and
start all over again, okay?

Henry Reyna, hello.
My name is Alice.
I'm with the CIO.

Puro pedo. She's nothing but
a dumb broad, only good
for you-know-what. Vamonos.

Look, thanks a lot,
Miss Bloomfield,

but I'd rather be left alone,
all right?

Oh, wait a minute.
Please.

I'm someone who
wants very much
to be your friend.

Can you believe that?

Why should I?
Because I'm with you.

Yeah? Well, how come
you ain't in jail with me?

We're all in jail, Henry.

Some of us just don't know it.

Alice?

Hey, George.
What the hell
are you doing here?

Never mind. I should know
better than to ask.
Have you two met?

I introduced myself. Twice.
Oh, figures. Figures.

Alice has volunteered to
help me in this case, Henry.

She's gotta be
the most red-hot organizer
the CIO's ever had.

George, that's a lot
of red-hot you-know-what.

You see what I mean?

Well, you two have a lot
of work to do,
and my ego is killing me.

Whoa, whoa, Alice!

Just a minute.
I'll be right with you.

Guard.

Well, Henry, uh...

Tomorrow's a big day.
Anything you need?

Anything I can get for you
besides clean clothes?

Some socks. Some underwear.
I can't go to court
looking like this.

I want you, uh, to
take a look at this, son.

That's Latin for
"Don't let the bastards
get you down."

Excuse me, um,
do you have a light?

Sorry,
there's no smoking here.

Trust me.
Thanks a lot.

Thank you.
I didn't even see it.

Come on, Alice.
Let's scram.

Good luck, Henry.
We're gonna beat this rap.

"Good luck, Henry.
We're gonna beat this rap."

You really think you stand
a chance, ese?

Yeah, I think
I stand a chance.

Because that white broad
says so?

Nel, ese.
Because Hank Reyna says so.

The political patsy, huh?

Mira, ese.

Hank Reyna's no loser.

I'm gonna come out
of this thing on top.

Don't try to
out-pachuco me, ese.

Pues, we'll see
who comes out on top.

Let's go to court.

The Superior Court of the
State of California in and
for the County of Los Angeles,

Department 43. The Honorable
F.W. Charles presiding.
All rise.

Please be seated.

Call this case, Bailiff.

The People of
the State of California v.
Henry Reyna,

Ismael Torres, Thomas Roberts,
Joey Castro,

and 18 other pacoocos.

Your Honor, it was
reported to me on Friday

that the district attorney
had absolutely forbidden
the sheriff's office

to permit these boys
clean clothes or haircuts.

Now, Your Honor, it has
been two months since
these boys were arrested.

Your Honor,
the boys of
the 38th Street Gang

are characterized
by their haircuts.
Two months, Your Honor.

The thick, heavy heads
of hair, the ducktail comb,
the...

You're trying to make
these boys look disreputable,
like mobsters!

Yet clothes like these
are being worn by kids
all over America.

The zoot clothes
seem to be necessary

for purposes of identification
of the defendants
by witnesses.

I don't believe we'll have any
difficulty if they get
a little dirty.

What about their haircuts,
Your Honor?

They didn't go to jail looking
like Marines, Mr. Shearer.

Their hair was long
to begin with.

It's a little late
to try to change
their tonsorial appearance.

You may call
your first witness.

The prosecution calls
Sergeant Frank Galindo

of the Los Angeles
Police Department.

Sergeant Frank
Galindo of the Los Angeles
Police Department!

Look at your gang, ese.

They do look like mobsters.

Place your
left hand on the Bible.
Raise your right hand.

Do you solemnly swear
to tell the truth...

Come on, vato, sit up.

I'm tired, Hank.
My butt is sore.

Yeah. Look at the soft chairs
the jury's got.

Come on, Hank is
right, vatos. We look bad.

Put some class on your ass.

Sit up. Come on.

Sergeant Galinda,
were you the first officer to
arrive at the Williams Ranch

near the so-called
Sleepy Lagoon

on the night of, or the early
morning of August 1, 1942?

Yes, sir.

I got a call
saying that there was

a disturbance there stemming
from a birthday party.

When I arrived, I
found the body
of Jose Sanchez.

You talked
to the mother of the deceased
in Spanish?

Yes. That's correct.
She told me it was
her birthday party.

She said a gang of pachucos
attacked the ranch
about 1:00 a.m.

Henry Reyna and his
38th Street Gang.

Objection, Your Honor.

The use of the word "gang"
is prejudicial to my clients.

Objection overruled.

"The Caucasian,

"especially the Anglo-Saxon
youths, when engaged
in fighting...

"will resort to fisticuffs,
and may at times
kick each other,

"which is considered
unsportive.

"But this Mexican element
considers all this to be
a sign of weakness.

"And all he knows and feels

"is a desire to use a knife
to kill. Or to at least
let blood.

"This inborn characteristic
comes down from
the blood thirsty Aztecs."

Objection, Your Honor!

Objection overruled!

I move that this entire report
be stricken from the record!

You're out of order,
Mr. Shearer.
Objection overruled.

You may proceed.

"And when added
to the use of liquor
or marijuana,

"then we certainly have
crimes of violence."

Put on your feathers, ese.

♪ Mari-marijuana,
mari-marijuana boogie

♪ Mari-marijuana,
mari-marijuana boogie

♪ Mari-marijuana
That's my baby's name

♪ Put on your drapes
Ese, vato

♪ Make those calcos shine

♪ Ooh-wop
Ah!

♪ Put on your drapes
Ese, vato

♪ Make those calcos shine

♪ Ooh-wop
Ah!

♪ They're holding court
on the corner
Marijuana boogie time

Still feeling patriotic, ese?

What do you mean?
The trial just started.

Let's cut the shit
and get to the verdict.

This is 1942.
Or is it 1492?

You're doing this
to me, vato.

Something inside you
craves the punishment,

the public humiliation
and the human sacrifice.

But there's no more
pyramids, carnal.
Only the gas chamber.

But I didn't do it, ese.
I didn't kill anybody!

♪ Got a woman named
Juana

♪ Juana, Juana, Juana
♪ Juana

♪ But all the men
she made love to
They call her

♪ Marijuana

♪ Mari-marijuana
That's my baby's name ♪

Who knows, ese?

Maybe your little chick
can save your cachetes.
Guacha!

After the dance
that Saturday night,

Henry and I drove out
to the lagoon around 11:30.

There was a new moon
out that night.

As we got to the lagoon,
we noticed right away
the place was empty.

That's it, baby.
It's beautiful.

It's just a reservoir.

At least at night
you can't see
the tires and tin cans.

Come here.

Come on.

It was such
a beautiful night, and the sky
was so full of stars.

Well, we couldn't just sit
in the car, so we got out
to look at the lagoon.

Neither of us said
anything at first.

So the only sounds
were the crickets
and the frogs.

Then we began to hear music.

What's that?

It sounds like a party.
Where?

Over there at that ranch.
See the lights on the shacks?

Oh, yeah.

Sounds like some party.

Do you want to crash it?

Chale.
I promised to keep you
out of trouble, remember?

My father.

He makes me feel
like a nun sometimes.

You know,
you're the first guy he's
let me go out with alone.

Maybe he knows
what he's doing.

A lot of guys don't know
how to respect a girl.

Go ahead, ese.
Pop her cherry.
You know she wants it.

What's wrong?
Your old man
and my old man.

I don't like
shotgun weddings, esa.

Hank, I'm almost 18.
You're going off to war,
and I love you.

Not here, esa.
Anyplace but here.

Too many memories of Bertha?

What do you want
to bring her up for?
I...

Do you want to be
like her?
Is that it? Huh?

Well, get in the back seat.

Come on,
get in the back seat.
Hank.

You must really think
I'm a square.

I'm sorry, Della.
I was just
trying to prove a point.

I don't want to go to jail
for statutory rape.

Why does everything have
to be a crime with you?

Can't you
just love somebody?

Just then, another car
pulled up to the lagoon.

We thought it was
Tommy and Lupe
and the rest of the gang.

But it wasn't.

Come on, ese.
We get to play now.
Come on!

Come on, ese.
Toma, ese!

You better stay here.
Stay here.
Hank...

Come and find out, puto!
Come on!

Let's play some baseball!

Stay here!

Rafas and his gang
left, heading for the party
at the ranch,

and I held Henry in my arms
until he came to.

The first thing
he said was,

"Let's go into town
and get the guys."

Come on, 38th!

It took about an hour
to go into town
and come back.

We parked by the lagoon
and walked toward the ranch.

The lights were still on,
but the place looked deserted.

I thought you said
the joint was jumping.

Is this your idea
of a big party?

I'm going to take care of
that pinche Rafas for good.

- Ay, go to sleep, Rudy!
- Shut up.

Looks like the party's
over, Hank. You see
any signs of Rafas?

Nel, ese. They're gone.
Ah, well, then let's go
to Downey and get them!

Chale!

Everybody, go home.

Go home?
Put the car tools away.
Go home!

Vamonos.

Get in the car.

Listen to
what he says, Rudy.

That's when
we heard music coming
from the ranch again.

We didn't know
Rafas and his gang were
kicked out of the place

for starting fights and
causing trouble. So when
Joey said...

The party's still got life in it.
Dancing to records.

Come on!

They all went there,
yelling and laughing.

At the ranch,
they saw us coming

and thought we were
the Downey Gang
coming back again.

They attacked us.

An old man ran out of the
house with a kitchen knife,
and Henry had to hit him.

And then some girl grabbed me
by the hair...

And in a second,
everybody was fighting
and yelling.

Come on!

Before we got to the cars,
I saw something out of
the corner of my eye.

It was a guy, and he was
hitting a man on the ground
with a big stick.

And Henry yelled at him.

Come on!

Come on!

Come on!

But he wouldn't stop.

He wouldn't...

He wouldn't stop.

He wouldn't.

Your witness.

It has been
brought to my attention

that the jury is having
trouble telling one boy
from another.

So I'm going to rule

that the defendants will stand
each time their names
are mentioned.

Objection, Your Honor!

If the prosecution makes an
accusation, it will appear
to be self-incrimination.

Not necessarily.

You may cross-examine,
Mr. Prosecutor.

Ready for the verdict
now, ese?

Chale.

Miss Barrios, are you
deliberately concealing
evidence from this court?

No.
Are you covering
for Henry Reyna?

- Please stand.
- No.

Then who was this
guy you saw beating another
man on the ground?

It wasn't Henry.

He was standing
right beside me.
We were just defending...

I didn't ask for your comment.
Why don't you ask me
about the Downey Gang?

Just answer my question!
But they attacked the party!

Maybe Jose Sanchez
was already dead!

Your Honor,
will you ask the witness
to be cooperative?

I must caution you,
young lady.
Answer the questions

or I will hold you
in contempt.

Sit down.

Now, Miss Barrios,

if your boyfriend
wasn't the guy with
the big stick, who was it?

It was
too dark to tell.

How big a stick
would you say it was,
Miss Barrios?

As big as this one?

Objection! Your Honor,
no such club was ever found.

The prosecution is implying...
Your Honor, I'm not
implying anything.

I'm merely using
this stick as
an illustration.

Objection overruled.

Could it have been
a lead pipe?
No.

How about a blackjack?
A heavy chain?
No. No!

A baseball bat?
No!

Did your boyfriend run over to
Jose Sanchez, hit him
on the head, and kill him?

He could hardly walk.
How could he run anyplace?
No. No.

Did Smiley Torres?
Did Joey Castro?
No. No.

Did Tommy Roberts?
Did Henry Reyna?
No. No.

Henry Reyna, Henry Reyna,
Henry Reyna!

Did Henry Reyna
willfully murder
Jose Sanchez?

No! No! No.

Whoo-hoo!

Objection!
Objection, Your Honor!

The prosecution
is pulling out objects
from all over the place.

Objects that were never found
at the Sleepy Lagoon,

objects that have
never been proven

to be associated with my
clients in any way whatsoever.

Objection overruled.

If the court please,

I wish to make an assignment
of misconduct by the Bench.

Quite frankly, Mr. Shearer,
I'm getting rather tired

of your repeated,
useless objections.

I have not made
useless objections.

Oh, I'm sorry.
Someone is using
ventriloquism.

We have a Charlie McCarthy
using Mr. Shearer's voice.

I'm going to assign
that remark of Your Honor
as misconduct.

Fine! I would feel
rather badly

if you did not make an
assignment of misconduct at
least twice every session.

You'll have them, Your Honor.

How would you like to
get slapped with a citation
for contempt, Mr. Shearer?

Witness is excused.

However, I'm going to
remand her to the custody

of the Ventura State School
for Girls for a period
of one year.

What?

To be held there
as a juvenile ward
of the state.

Bailiff.
If the court please.
If the court please!

This court is at recess
until tomorrow morning.

I'm sorry about Della,
Henry, and I'm afraid
it was my fault.

I shouldn't have
antagonized the judge.

I thought you said
we had a chance.
Now listen to me, son.

This case is
going to be won
on appeal.

Appeal?
What did I
tell you, ese?

You mean you know
we're gonna lose?

It's not unusual, Henry.
It happens all the time.

Don't you see, Henry?
Judge Charles is
hanging himself as we go.

I've already cited over 100
separate cases of
misconduct by the Bench.

It's all going
into the record.

Prejudicial error
denial of due process,
inadmissible evidence...

Don't give me
any more of your shit.

Henry.

Is there anything I can do?

Ready now, ese.

Simon.

Then let's have it.

Has the jury
reached a verdict?

We have, Your Honor.

How say you?

We find the defendants
guilty of murder in the first
and second degrees.

Ay, hijo.

The defendants will rise.

Henry Reyna, Jose Castro,

Thomas Roberts,
Ismael Torres,

you have been tried
by a jury of your peers,

and found to be
guilty of murder in the first
and second degree.

The barrio
needs you, ese.

The law prescribes
the capital punishment
for this offense.

Stand up to them
with some style.

However,
in view of your youth,

and considering
your families...

Show the world
Hank Reyna has some balls.

And remember...
...it is hereby the judgment
of this court...

...pachucoyo, ese.

...that you be sentenced
to life imprisonment

and sent to the state
penitentiary at San Quentin.

24-528.
- Torres.

24-527.
- Roberts.

24-526.
- Castro.

24-525.
- Reyna.

Los Angeles,
California. May 5, 1943.

Dear boys, announcing
the publication
by mimeograph

of the Appeal News.

Your very own newsletter,
to be sent to you
twice a month

for the purpose of keeping you
reliably informed
of everything:

the progress of
the Sleepy Lagoon
Defense Committee,

we have a name now,
and of course, the matter of
your appeal.

We are going to stand beside
you until your names are
absolutely clear.

I swear it.

"Viva el Cinco

"de Mayo.

"Your editor...

"Alice Bloomfield."

Hey, boys.

Any good news
about the appeal?
How's my wife?

One at a time, guys.
Tommy, this is for you.
It's from your mother.

Careful, I think it's a cake.
Hey, careful.

And this is cigarettes.
Oh, wow.

And "Love from Elena."

These are for Henry.

And that is for Joey.

Oh, wow.

Thanks, Grandma.

Do you mind
if I call you Grandma?

No, I don't think so.

I like your zoot pants.
Ah, bonaroo, huh?

Solid!

I'm a what?
Aruca. A fine chick.

De aquellas.

De aquellas.

Ooh! All reet, esa.

Hey, look, Miss Bloomfield.
I don't want my wife
going around begging.

Oh, it's not begging.
It's fundraising.

I don't care what you call it.
I don't like it.

There's no shame
in asking for
money for a good cause.

It's not our custom.

If that's what it's gonna
take, then count me out.
Smiley, wait a minute.

Okay, it's not your custom.

I won't ask your wife
to go door-to-door, okay?

So where's Henry?
Isn't he joining us?
He couldn't make it.

Why not?

Look, that's his business.
Leave him alone.

I'm afraid I can't do that,
Smiley. It's not my custom.

Joey, what's going on?

Okay, Tommy, give.
Don't look at me, doll.

Look, Tommy, I didn't come
here to do anything but
bring a few letters and...

Listen, Alice.

I know what you're
trying to do for us,
and that's reet, see?

Shit. Most Paddies
would probably like to
see us locked up for good.

I'm in here because
I hung around
with Mexicans.

But I grew up
with these vatos,
and I'm pachuco, too, you see?

Simon, esa.

You'd better learn
what it means to be Chican,

and I mean PDQ.

Hello, Henry.
I'd like to talk to you
in private.

You vatos want any of
this Okie corn bread?

Orale. Paddy cake, ese!

All reet, ese. That's good.

What can I do for you?
For me?
Ni madre.

I don't understand.

I'm dropping out
of the case, Alice.

You're what?
You heard me.

I'm bailing out, esa.
Getting out of the case.

Henry, you can't.
Why can't I?

Because you...
You can't.

What about George and your
family, and all the people
in the barrio

who've given their time
and money in the last
few months?

You can't just quit.

Oh, no? Just watch me.

Henry, if you felt this way
before, why didn't you
tell me?

Well, why didn't you ask me?

But you've seen me
coming and going.

I've been writing to you,
speaking for you, traveling up
and down the state.

Nothing has come
before my attachment
and my involvement

and my passion
for this case.

- My boys have been everything to me.
- "My boys"?

"My boys," Alice?

What the hell are we,
your personal property?

Let me set you straight, lady.
I ain't your boy, sabes?

You know I never
meant it like that.

You're just a white broad
using Mexicans
to play politics.

Congratulations, Henry.

That's the worst thing
anyone has ever said to me.

Why don't you go help
the colored people?

Why don't you go to hell?

You know, you really ought
to try working

at the Sleepy Lagoon Defense
office for a few months.

All the petty arguments,
and the haggling, and the lack
of cooperation.

"You're too sentimental
and emotional
about this, Alice.

"You're too cold-hearted,
Alice.

"Alice, you're
collecting money and
handing it over to the lawyer

"while the families
are going hungry?
Alice!

"Alice, they say you can't be
trusted 'cause
you're a Communist.

"'Cause you're a Jew, Alice."

Okay. That's the way
they feel about me?

The hell with them.
I hate them, too.

I hate their language.

I hate their enchiladas!

And I hate their goddamn
mariachi music!

You all right, miss?
Yes. I'm fine.

You got a lot of guts.

No one's ever talked to me
like that before.

Yeah, well, you gotta watch
out for us white broads, ese.

I take it back,
all right?

I said a few things, too.
I don't really
hate enchiladas.

It's huevos rancheros
I can't stand.

Pues, how about
huevos pachucos?

So...

- What do we do now?
- You tell me.

Can we go on
with the appeal?

Okay.
Good.

And now, um, I was wondering
if you would do something

very special for me.

Write an article.

No, I'm serious.
I'll get it published.

Article? Pues, who told you
you could write, ese?

Chale.
The guys would razz
me silly. I can't write.

Puro pedo.

I've seen the letters
you write to your family.
Come on, Hank.

What do you say?
Where's the old
pachuco spirit?

Right here,
and I say puro pedo.

Look, can't we just start by
writing each other?

I mean, in private.

Of course. That's a...
That's a wonderful idea.

Then it's a deal?
Deal.

I think that we're going
to be very good friends.

You think so?
I know so.

Time, miss.
Gotta go, boys.

Say hello
to Berti for me,
will you, Grandma?

And my wife Elena.

And give my love
to Lupe.
Time!

I gotta go.

We'll see you, Grandma.
I love you.

Tough luck.
She loves me.

Chale, ese.
She loves me. She told me.
Oh, come on.

So you got
yourself a pen pal, huh?
Don't lean on me, ese.

You're going
stir-crazy, carnal.

Why don't you just
let Manuela stroke you
and get it over with?

That ruca is
never gonna see you
as a man, anyway.

You know
what they say, carnal.

"A Latin lover's nothing
but a fucking Mexican."

Orale.

Give me a break, vato.
One break coming up.

Rec time!

♪ Keep your eyes on
the ball

♪ Get your back
against the wall

♪ Let the rhythm
of each stroke
become your pleasure

♪ Use your mind, concentrate

♪ You must win this bout
with fate

♪ Or become a prisoner
of its hold forever

♪ Handball
♪ Handball

♪ Handball
♪ Handball

♪ Watch the way it
comes reflecting off the wall

♪ Handball
♪ Handball

♪ Handball
♪ Handball

♪ Oh, it's how
you play the game
that shapes your life

♪ Now you've got time
on your hands

♪ So rise up and be a man

♪ And define the game
according to your rules

♪ So just get hep,
get in step

♪ Oh, the pace is yours to set

♪ And you alone control
the tempo of the rhythm

♪ Handball
♪ Handball

♪ Handball
♪ Handball

♪ Watch the way it comes
reflecting off the wall

♪ Handball
♪ Handball

♪ Handball
♪ Handball

♪ Oh, it's how
you play the game that
shapes your life ♪

Reyna!

Your, uh, Jewish broad's
here again.

Hi, Licha.
Hello, Henry.

I went to Ventura.
I've seen Della.

Aren't you gonna ask me
how she is?

Yeah, how is she?

She looks fine.

She, uh...

She's very strong.

So?

I hate it when you
do that to me.

Half the time,
I don't know
who I'm talking to.

Why didn't you answer
my letters, Alice?

Nobody ever wrote me
love letters before.

I'll keep them, Henry, but I
can't answer them. I can't.

I can't be your mother or your
sister or your huisa,

or your white broad.

Nobody's asking you
to be a white broad.

I don't know
who to be for you.

No.

I am Alice Bloomfield.
I'm a person, just like you.

When we win this appeal,

you get to go home

and I get to go on
to the next fight.

That's who I am.

And if I lose sight of that,
then I don't know
what I'm doing here.

Thanks a lot, Miss Bloomfield.

If you walk out on me
this time,
I won't stop you.

Bye, Hank.

Licha, huh?

Theruca really put it to you.

You know what
your problem is, Hank?

You can't stand yourself,
and you can't stand
me telling you.

Shut up, ese.

San Quilmas was made for
self-victimizing suckers
like you, Hank.

Underneath that big,
tough, bullshit exterior
you put on,

is a little
snot-nosed Mexican kid...
Shut up.

...begging for
the gringos' attention.
Shut up.

You've turned yourself
into a target, ese,

a willing victim of
the pinche racists, and they
threw you in prison for life.

Shut up!

All right. New work
assignments. Everybody report
to the jute mill.

Let's go!

What's the matter with you,
Reyna? Got lead in your pants?

I said, let's go.

We're supposed to work
in the mess hall.

Well, you've got
a new assignment.
Since when?

Since now. Get going!

Hey, come on.
Yeah. Be cool, ese.

Does the warden know
about this?

What the hell do you care?
You think you're
something special?

Come on. Move it, grease-ball.
Make me, you
white Paddy bastard.

Back.
Back off.
Back off! Don't be stupid.

All right, Reyna.
You got solitary.
I'd say about 90 days.

Where in the hell
have you been, ese?

Solitary.

They gave me solitary.

Only this reality
is real now, Hank.

Only this place
is real.

Sitting in the lonely cell
of your will.

Guacha.

Each second is a raw drop of
blood from your brain

that you must swallow
drop by drop.

And don't even
start counting, ese,

or you'll lose your mind.

Where am I, ese?

What am I doing here?

You're here to learn
to live with yourself, Hank.

You're a marijuana dreamer

floating in an endless night
of unfulfilled fantasies,

and there is no time.

I'm Henry Reyna, ese.
Hank Reyna!

A dream,carnal.
Just a dream.

My family.

I gotta think
about my family.

Mi hijo.

My carnalillo.

My sis.

Forget them.
Forget them all.

Forget your family
and the barrio
beyond the wall.

There's still a chance
I'll get out.
Fat chance, ese.

I'm talking about the appeal!
I'm talking about what's real.

Haven't you learned?

Learned what?

No court in the land's
gonna set you free.

You're in here for life, vato.

The moment your hopes
come crashing down,

you'll find yourself
on the ground, foaming
at the mouth, como loco.

I got you all figured out.

I know who you are, carnal.

You're the one
that got me here.

And you know what?

You're me.

My worst enemy...

And my best friend.

Myself.

So get lost.

Get lost!

Orale pues!

Pues, don't take the pinche
play so seriously. Jesus!

You want me to go?

But not before
you check out what's happening
back home today.

The Navy has landed on leave
with full pay,

and war is breaking out
on the streets of L.A.

Come on. Out.

You get your hands
off of me!

I'm feeling suave tonight.

Let's dance.

Let's get out of here.

No!

Orale! That's enough!

Good evening,
Mr. and Mrs. North
and South America,

and all the ships at sea,

Let's go to press.

"Flash. Los Angeles,
California. June 3, 1943.

"Serious rioting broke out
here tonight as flying
squadrons of Marines

"and soldier joined the Navy
in a new assault on
the zooter-infested districts.

"A fleet of 20 taxicabs
carrying some

"pulled out of
the naval armory
at Chavez Ravine tonight

"and assembled a task force
that invaded
the eastside barrios.

"The zoot-suiters,
those gamin dandies..."

Why don't you tell them
what I really am, ese,

or how you're forbidden
from using the very word?

We're complying
in the interest of the war.

How are you complying?

By using other terms.
Like "pachuco"
and "zoot-suiter"?

What's wrong with that?
The zoot-suit crime wave

is even beginning to
push the war news
off the front page.

The press has
distorted the very meaning
of the word "zoot suit."

All it is for you guys
is another way to say
"Mexican"

without insulting your ally
south of the border.

But the idea of
the original chuco is
to look like a diamond.

To look sharp, hip, bonaroo.

Finding a style of urban
survival in the rural skirts
and outskirts

of the brown metropolis
of Los, cabron.

Come on! It's an affront
to good taste.

Like the Mexican,
the Filipino and the black
who wear it?

Looks just as ridiculous
on the white kids.

You mean the wops and Jews?

Hey, look, sport, be honest.
You guys weren't
even wearing clothes

when the white man
pulled you out of the jungle.

If a uniform is what you want,
join the goddamn Army.

Why?

Because there's a war
going on. What the hell
are you trying to prove?

You're no better than anybody
else in the States.

We've got shortages!

Patriotic citizens are going
without collars and cuffs so
you can wear those zoot suits!

So?
So what are we
fighting for,

if not to annihilate
the enemies of
the American way of life?

Perdon, senor.
Is that supposed to be us?

There's that spic. Come on!

- Get him!
- Let's go!

Yeah, sucker!

- Come on! That's it!
- We got you now!

Asshole!

I said, is that
supposed to be us?

Say it.

Go on. Say it!

Kill the pachuco bastards!

Come on, zooter.
Think you're more important
than the war, zooter, huh?

Let's see if you've got any
balls in those funny pant,
boy.

Come on, man. Maybe we
shouldn't be doing this.
Are you nuts?

- What'd he do to us?
- Draft dodger.

Watch out for the knife.

- Come on.
- Look out!

Come on, boy.

All right. Come on!

Son of a bitch.

Caged
like an animal.

A monkey
in a monkey suit.

Come on.
Tear it off
his back.

He dropped the shiv!
Get him!

Grab him.

That's it. Fight,
sucker! Come on.

They ganged up on me, carnal.

You left me,
and they ganged up
on me.

Why?

Why didn't you take me
with you?

I was at the Sleepy Lagoon.
I was there throwing
chingazos like everybody else.

I went to the pinche dance
with Bertha.

I was wearing your zoot suit.

All chingon in your tacuche.

They stripped me.

They stripped me, carnal.

Hijo.

They stripped me.

They told me you did
90 days in solitary.

You okay?

Simon.

When did you get out?
A while ago.

I got four months off
for good behavior.

It's good to see you.

I was afraid
things had changed.

So much has happened.

I heard you're living
with my jefitos.
Yeah.

When I got out of Ventura,
my parents gave me a choice,

forget about you,
or get out, so...

Alice says
you guys will be out soon.

Oh, yeah?
Yeah.

George is ready
with the appeal brief.

Oh, Hank, it's almost over.

Then what?
I'll be an ex-con.

What do you think I am?

Look, Hank, I'm not
trying to push you
into anything.

If you still want me,
orale, suave!

But if you don't,
that's okay, too.

But I'm not gonna hang
around like apendeja
all my life.

I got nothing
to give you, Della.

Just give me
some hope.
How?

Ask me to wait.

But what if we lose
the appeal?
We won't.

I've screwed up your life
enough already.

You did eight months for me.
Isn't that enough?

I would die for you.

I love you.

Pero me chingan la madre
if I'm gonna throw away
my life for nothing.

Della.

Wait.

No touching.

What the hell. Go ahead.

- I love you.
- I love you.

If the late summer of 1942
was the low point,

two years later, the war for
the Allies is pounding its way
toward certain victory.

On the home front,
Americans go on with their
daily lives

with growing confidence and
relief as the war pushes
on to inevitable triumph.

Los Angeles Daily Press,
Wednesday, November 8, 1944.

Headline: "District Court of
Appeals Decides in Sleepy
Lagoon Murder Case.

"Boys in San Quentin
given..."

Freedom!

Orale.
Good to see you, ese.

I thought I lost you.

It'd take more than
the U.S. Navy
to wipe me out, ese.

Welcome back.
It's good to be home.

No hard feelings, Hank.
Chale.
We won, didn't we?

Simon, ese.

And that's a perfect way
to end this play.

Happy ending y todo.

Eh!

But life ain't that way, Hank.

Henry Reyna went back
to prison in 1947

for robbery and assault
with a deadly weapon.

While incarcerated,
he killed another inmate

and wasn't released
until 1955, when he got
into hard drugs.

He died of the trauma
of his life in 1972.

That's the way
you see it, ese,

but there's other ways
to end this story.

Hey, baby, go!

Henry Reyna
went to Korea in 1950.

He was shipped there on
a destroyer and defended
the 38th parallel,

but he was killed
at Inchon in 1952

being posthumously awarded
the Congressional
Medal of Honor.

Henry Reyna married
Della Barrios in 1948. They
still live in Los Angeles.

They have five kids,
three of whom are now
attending university,

speaking pachuco slang
and calling themselves
Chicanos.

Henry Reyna, the born leader.

Henry Reyna,
the zoot-suiter.

Henry Reyna, my friend.

Henry Reyna, my brother.

Henry Reyna.
Our son.

Henry Reyna, my love.

Henry Reyna, El Pachuco.

The man, the myth still lives.

Hey!