All language subtitles for Savage.Dog.2017.BDRip.x264-BiPOLAR + YTS

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Translation and subtitles by
PEPPER & LALASPAIN
*** SONG LIVES FOR EVER ***

There's a tale told
somewhere south of Burma.

It tells of one man's
rendezvous with death.

A man who, when pushed
far enough, retaliated.

How he faced down an army
and spilled a river of blood.

Naysayers shake their heads,
discounting the legend.

But the fact remains... it's all true.

I knew the man, and for a while,
I loved him like a son.

The French high-tailed it in '54,

and the U.S. didn't yet
have boots on the ground.

For a while,
Indochina offered safe haven

to men who had reached
the end of the line.

European war criminals, ex-Nazis,
and other undesirables.

Or men with a price on their head
in the West.

Men like... Martin Tillman.

- This is gonna be good.
- Yes.

The tiger and the elephant, gentlemen.

Mr. Rastignac, you may have the honor.

My name is Jon-Pierre Rastignac.
I have been known by many names,

but the one that I'm most commonly
associated with is "The Executioner."

I face you as an equal.

With the exception of this blade,
we're quite fairly matched.

They told me,
if I fought, I would go free.

This fight was your salvation,
but you lost.

All right. I like that.

Get lost!

On your knees!

If you shoot me, you'll take my place.

You shouldn't have done that
to the corporal.

I asked the guards why a colonial
police station with only one small jail

would keep a prisoner for three years.

They said only you knew the answer.

Most prisoners who end up here
have no hope.

- I thought I might help...
- You come twice a week

with flowers for him?

And he turns you away?

I can bring you fruit.

- The food here is not healthy.
- I don't need your help.

Don't waste your time on me.

You're not a waste of time.
You're just lost.

I'll come see you again...
in case you change your mind.

JULY 1959

AUGUST 1959

- That agent is here again.
- He's persistent.

- I can kill him if you order it.
- The world is changing, Boon.

We must adapt with it.

Isn't it your job to transition
the local police into power?

The side effect being
that, for a brief few years,

you're neither beholden
to the authority of the French...

nor the Vietnamese.

Mr. Harrison, what can I do for you?

Ho Chi Minh's strength
in the north grows,

as President Diem's influence
in the south diminishes.

The Americans are watching and will send
more advisers within the year.

You and... your kind will have to find
a different fleapit to lord over.

Perhaps.

I might be of valuable assistance to you
when they arrive.

At what price to me?

MI6 would like to
extradite Martin Tillman

to face criminal charges
in Great Britain.

There's no one of that name here.

You're overlooking
a potential opportunity here, Colonel.

I know what you did in the war.

You'll need a friend like me if you're
gonna deal with the Americans.

Corporal Chief Boon,
please escort Mr. Harrison out.

When I was a little girl,
I rescued a stray dog.

A fighting dog
that had been left for dead.

I looked at those black eyes
and felt the ultimate betrayal.

Some animals are not meant
to be caged, Martin.

Why are you talking to me?

- You made some bad decisions.
That's all. - Time is up.

I'll be back next week. Goodbye.
Why do you bother coming back for him?

We build our own cages, Martin.

Alcohol's an easy panacea here.
Black Jamaican rum.

It will help you forget your sins...
without losing your edge.

You assaulted a superior officer in '53.

You've served three years
of a six-month sentence.

What does that tell you?

Tells me I'm not the only criminal
in this room.

In the north,
you're just an ex-Legionnaire

with a price on his head.

In the south, you're just
another ex-con with no passport.

That tattoo is a writ of judgment
against you,

an execution warrant in Great Britain.

You're not so dissimilar to us.
Take... Seigneur Rastignac.

Spanish Blue Division.
Fought heroically for the Third Reich.

Corporal Chief Boon
of the 5th Vietnamese Paratroopers.

Once a hero, now hunted
by the Viet Minh as a traitor.

And Seigneur Amarillo.

Loyal to Pétain
and fought until the end in Berlin.

Santé.

This room is full of men
who backed the wrong horses, indeed.

I'm feeling charitable... so...

I'm fulfilling my... obligation to you.

I'm paroling you.

Effective immediately.

You're saying I'm free to go?

Our glorious run together is over.

For most of us,
Indochina will be the last outpost.

But, perhaps, we can work together again
under different circumstances.

If you ever find yourself in a spot,

I can always use a man
with a talent like yours.

I think I'll just be moving along.

Think about it, Martin. You don't look
like a man with many opportunities.

You owe me now.

You ever see me again,
don't you dare presume to forget that.

Are you sure this is wise?

I want that British agent
out of my affairs.

The old colonel was right.
Martin wouldn't go far.

He headed to the only person he knew
outside of the camp...

which is where I met him.

This is Martin,
the one I was telling you about.

I have to leave now.
I want the two of you to be friends.

It's nice seeing you again,
Martin Tillman.

There was once an Irish boxer
named Tillman.

Showed potential.
And then disappeared.

Looked after her
since she was knee-high to a jackrabbit.

She believes in the good in man.
I don't.

If you tell me
where I can get a meal, I'll be leaving.

I have no beef with you, son.

And I could use a good bouncer.
You look like you can handle yourself.

She says you're a straight shooter.

When I was inside, she'd
visit every week.

Always bringing flowers
for the commandant.

You don't know.

God bless her innocent heart.
Give me the picture.

I'll be damned if that old flesh
merchant, Hans Steiner...

isn't her own father.

Takes him flowers once a week,

in the hope that he'll sit her
on his knee and kiss her cheek.

He refuses to see her.

Steiner married his
con gái, local girl,

whom he later suspected
of deceiving him.

When Isabelle was born, that gave him
sufficient reason to... deny her.

I was Steiner's valet,
saw the whole thing,

adopted Isabelle.

She deserves better than either of us.

You ever hurt Isabelle, and I'll kill
you faster than I could shank a salmon.

And that's damn quick, boy.

There's an old storage shed
out back you can bunk in.

You'll mostly deal with drunks.

Every so often,
some lame duck paws a girl.

They get one polite request.
Then... do whatever it takes.

Xiè xie.

Okay.

That'll do it.

You know, you're just like I was,
Martin. But you ain't so old.

- You can still change your path.
- I'm nothin' like you.

I'm young, handsome,
and I burn in the sun.

- You son of a bitch!
- But I have to say...

you're the only person
in my whole life...

who ever went out of
his way to help me.

I appreciate that.

Even the worst of us wants to be loved.

And, for a time, Martin enjoyed a peace
he'd never known before.

Baron Valentine, certainement.
Mais oui, certaine...

He was a freed prisoner.

She was an innocent, who had watched
her injured patient limp back to life.

It was only natural that they would
develop feelings for each other.

I'm not sure Valentine...

- Is that what you believe in?
- No, I was never a believer.

I joined the fight because...

my dad and my brother
were in ahead of me.

Where I come from,
that's just what you did.

Your home is here now, Martin Tillman.

Leave the past behind.

He turns to his friend, he says,

"Séamus, I told you last night,
you fucked a penguin!"

Yeah, you know, it's so damn easy
to get so wrapped up in life

that you miss
the precious moments like this.

- Toast to the future.
- The future.

We damn sure ain't drinking to the past!

To not going back
where we have been before.

- Cheers.
- Cheers.

No, seriously, T.J.,
I was out in New York.

- New York?
- Two weeks.

- Have I what?
- Have you broken your hands?

Suppose I break my hands.
I'd become a fucking baker.

This ain't your fight!

Get the fuck outta here.

Fuck off.

Who's this cunt think he is?

We got ourselves a hard-nut, lads.

There's a pretty penny out there
for Legion deserters. You know that.

You look like a fellow
who likes a good tear-up.

Well, you know what?

This is your lucky day, son,
'cause so do I.

Shh! Shh! Listen.

Is that your knees I hear knocking?

Go home.

If the idea is to have a fight,
now's your fucking chance.

Martin!

That's enough!

You did your job!

- I told you I'm fine, okay?
- You're not fine.

- Yes, I'm fine.
- Turn your head.

Turn your head.

- I'm just joking.
- You're a big baby!

Hey.

- Now, it makes sense.
- We're closed. Come back tonight.

My country... my laws.

My revolver.

Martin and I are old friends.
Care if I sit down?

Not my call.

Thank you.

Isabelle, you better go. Come on.

Does she still believe
she's Steiner's daughter?

She is Steiner's daughter.

At great expense, our mutual friend
Colonel Steiner flew in a champion boxer.

Last night, someone
knocked him out cold.

I decided I should meet
the responsible party.

Mr. Valentine told you we're closed.
Why don't you come back tonight?

You've just burned
the most dangerous man in Indochina.

Right now, you need me more
than anyone else in the world.

Why don't you come
back and fight for us?

Steiner had the British agent
sent north, so...

you can make some money.

Life can be good.

I'll take my chances here,
if it's all the same with you.

If you change your mind,
you know where to find me.

Steiner needs to relocate his operation.

A bar like this would be a perfect fit.

Not my favorite customer.

We're closing early tonight.

I brought you bad luck.

Bad luck resides in our unconscious.

We inflict it on ourselves.

Seems to find me.

Listen to me, son.

I saw something inside you
out there in the rain.

Maybe you need to stop
running away from it.

Embrace it.

Martin!

I didn't think you'd be up this early.

I'll pray for you.

I want you to promise me something.

Don't ever watch me fight.
Or bet on me, or...

be any part of what happens to me
when I get into that ring.

I don't understand.

Something happens to me in there.

It's a part of me I
don't want you to see.

I bring bad luck to
the people around me.

Martin Tillman.

I've considered your offer, and...

I believe I'll take you up on it.

Well, that wasn't so difficult, was it?

That's right. The champ is here!

The champ is here! And who's gonna win?
Who? Who? Yes! The champ!

Come on! Let's go! Come on!

Come on!

Martin Tillman!

- What can I get you?
- Gin and tonic highball, old boy.

Three ounces of gin
to four ounces of tonic water.

Splash of lemon if you have it.

I think I can find
some lemon juice somewhere.

I've been in the north.

It's refreshing to hear English
spoken again.

Diplomatic service?

You might say that.
I'm looking for an Irishman.

- A boxer.
- He was here, but now he's gone.

There are a hundred local criminals
in this vicinity.

Nazis on the run, murderers,
wanted war criminals.

What's with this guy?

In 1946, Martin Tillman
set off several large bombs

targeting RUC and B-Special units.

We know he was working
with his father and brother,

who were part
of a flying column for the IRA.

But, as they were killed
in one of the blasts...

he's our loose end, you might say.

Can't help you.

Well, if he does turn up,
you can find me via the British Embassy.

You look like a man
that could do with £10,000.

The reward money for information
expediting his apprehension.

Do you know what £10,000 looks like
in French piastres, Mr. Valentine?

Cheers.

Martin Tillman!

I hear you give your money to Valentine.

You ever wonder how you would do
in a regular boxing match?

Big money in America.
Madison Square Garden.

Imagine that.

I used to know people.
Politicians, investors.

But I am SS Steiner,

and you are IRA Tillman.

I was sentenced to death
by a war tribunal in absentia.

And you have the British Secret Service
hunting you. So...

All that we shall ever be
is this, that we are right now.

Dearest Isabelle...

I'm sorry I have not been in touch.

I deeply, profoundly loved your mother.

And I'm sure what you would really
wish for me to say is that...

well, that...

I love you, too.

Well, unfortunately, I do not.

For you are, at best,
the daughter of a whore

and deserve no such dignity
for your wishful thinking.

I was blinded by my own lust
and inexperience.

I could never love the daughter
of the woman who made a cuckold of me.

You are nothing
but another faceless vermin inhabitant

of this festering wasteland.

Cordially, Hans Steiner.

How you doing?

We're winning so far.

There was a British agent here
asking after you.

Figured he'd catch up to me, eventually.

The money's good, Martin,
but I don't need it.

Neither does Steiner.
You can quit when you want.

That's my military passport.
We can put your picture in it.

- Steiner wouldn't like it.
- Forget Steiner.

Take the money from tomorrow's fight,
go to America, take Isabelle with you.

You're as good as back in jail here,
and you don't even know it.

Go to the States, get away!
Taste real freedom.

What about you?

I'll head south with my girl.
She's got family down there.

I'll do the next fight.

Then I'll have two weeks
till the next one.

That'll give us time
to get ahead of him.

Whatever wrong you've done
doesn't matter to anybody...

until you decide... to go on living.

One hundred thousand French piastres.
That's the biggest pot you've ever taken.

However, no one
is betting against you, so...

the odds are no longer worthwhile.

- So...
- You want me to lose the fight?

Well, that was easy.

I told you he'll be no problem.

If you give me a cut of the gate,
I'll make it a fucking work of art.

You better make it look real.

You learned to think
for yourself, Martin. That's good.

Lose well, Martin Tillman.
Your life depends on it.

I know, I know.

Strictly speaking,
I promised I wouldn't gamble.

But it's a sure thing!

I did my research on this guy.
Martin will tear him apart.

We'll go south to your family.
Buy a bar.

A bigger one.

Thailand, maybe. Yeah.

When the Europeans start arriving,
the Americans will be next,

and we'll be in a great position
to make some money.

How much did you gamble?

Now, don't you worry
your pretty little head about it.

No, no. Now, just wait a minute!

Come on, let's go!

- Get up! Get up!
- Get up! Get up!

This evening, many people found out
that their great hero has no honor.

They're in the bar, waiting for you.

No, no, look! Here
come my gentlemen now.

Okay, fellas...

- How'd I do?
- You lost.

What?

You have until the end of the week
to vacate.

The deed to this property,

everything and everything inside,
now belongs to Monsieur Rastignac.

Martin lost?

He knew? He knew he was going to lose,
but he let Valentine gamble?

You son of a bitch.

Watch your tongue, black.
You don't want to upset me.

You're awful, all of you!
You cowardly cheats.

Not one of you has the dignity
or bearing of Valentine.

You should be ashamed.

You and your pig!

That's enough!

That's enough.

You've taken enough from us tonight.

You're not taking any more.
It ends here!

And no Spaniard in a cheap suit
with a paid-off contract

is gonna take any more,
do you understand?

Put it down, Valentine.

- It's not fair.
- You're not a killer.

No!

What are you doing?

Everything okay, Valentine?

So, there you have it.

Killed by three slugs from my own .45.

Everything just ceased to matter.

Not my life, the bar, anything.

I just signed off.

It was a different story
with Martin and Isabelle.

The thing about a sawed-off shotgun is,
it's sheer hell at close range,

but, over a throw, not so much.

The force of the hit dropped Martin,
knocked him cold.

But it had missed everything vital.

Likewise with Isabelle.

The .45 that had finished me
passed right through her.

She was a healthy young woman.

And, well... it's said the human
is the hardest animal to kill.

Martin had never had
much call for religion,

but there, in the jungle,
he reacquainted himself with his Maker.

He begged God to let him die there,

to take his life
in exchange for saving hers.

He offered God a proposal.

If she died, he'd follow her
into the twilight kingdom.

But, if she lived,

it would become his mission
to quench with death

those responsible
for what had happened.

She deserves better than either of us.

I bring bad luck
to the people around me.

Bad luck resides in our unconscious.

We inflict it on ourselves.

Though it broke his heart,

Martin knew he could
never see her again.

It had never been so goddamn clear
as it was then.

He would have to kill them all.
Only then could it end.

Steiner, Rastignac, Amarillo, and Boon.

Just four men.

But, in Martin's mind, four reasons
his life had been destroyed.

I'm expecting Steiner this evening.

Make sure we have
an unopened bottle of cognac. Okay?

"And I heard a voice
in the midst of the four beasts...

and I looked.

And behold a pale horse.

And his name that sat on him was Death,
and Hell followed with him."

- I'm looking for Rastignac and Steiner.
- Why?

Rastignac and Steiner.

Mook-Lao!

Don't go inside, Mook-Lao.

Cognac for you.

Martin!

Give him a drink.

No, give him the good stuff!

See...

the thing that Martin knew
that they didn't was

that, in a bar fight,

the man with nothing to lose
was the man to bet on.

I'm gonna kill you.

And, if your men try to stop me,
I'll fucking kill them, too.

A wise man once said,

"Fear the hanged man
because he's dead already."

Martin Tillman is still alive.

He walked in Valentine's bar
with just a machete. Killed everyone!

They had machine guns,
shotguns, Steiner!

He cut them down
like they weren't even there.

Like a demon!

The fighter you killed and buried
has come back to life.

I'll just find him and kill him again.

Even allowing for the general rule
of exaggeration,

I'd say we have a problem on our hands.

Are you afraid, Steiner?

You're getting old.

Let's just say I'm not
taking any chances.

I'll kill anyone I
find to be a threat.

But he can't do
anything to us.

- What can he do to us?
- He'll go after our money.

That's where I would strike first.

- Our money's at my safe, at the villa.
- I have to stay here.

There's a full squad there.
They're armed. You'll be fine.

No. I'm... I'm deeply sorry. I'm not...
I'm not going. I am not going.

Take Constantine.
He'll take care of you.

Constantine, send up Monte and his boys

and also extra ammunition.

Go.

Louis XIII cognac.

Nearly a century old.
An excellent choice for this occasion.

He'd have to be out of his mind
to come here.

If he does, I'll kill him.

Then I'll buy dinner as an apology
for this inconvenience.

Constantine, watch here.

And over here. The rest with me!

Watch here!

You, there!

Get someone in position at the door!

Kill him!

You go! You go!

Martin...

There's enough for both of us. Look!

We can get out of this. Look.

I've been prepared to die
so many times in my life.

Not in this manner so repugnant.

A man should go before his Maker...

properly attired.

Today, we're mobilizing
an entire strike force

to keep one man
from entering a police station.

Consider him deceased, my friend.

Let's go!

What would you think of me?

For as long as he could remember,

Martin had been fighting.

Whether it was harassing the English,
hunting the Viet Minh,

or even knocking fellas down for money,
Martin had fought for many things.

But never for revenge.

Revenge was pure. It was simple.

And it would allow almost any means
to achieve its end,

no matter how ruthless.

Now, it wasn't as though
Martin had any premonition

or innate strategic knowledge.

He just figured, it wasn't a good plan
to go through the front door.

Grenade!

No, not that easy.

Go! Go, go!

There!

The corridor!
He's coming in the front door!

Men...

Go!

Marco, stay here. Pussies.

Take it!

Look at this face.

Look into my eyes.

Do you think
I've never faced death before?

Better men than you have tried.

I will not...
I will not allow you the satisfaction.

You're scum that got lucky
for a day or two.

I am an aristocrat.

I was a fighter once.

Let's see how good you are.

I have no fight with you.

You're wrong.

This place was my life.

I supported my parents,
my wife, my children.

Now, I have nothing.

I can't help you with that.

There's a price on
your head, Irishman.

That's good enough.

Turn the guns around. He's coming.

It's not until you face death
that you truly appreciate life.

Wait for him to leave cover,
then fire on my command.

What are you doing, Martin?

Fire!

Cease fire!

Pierre, go check on the target.

The rest of you, be ready
to provide covering fire on my command.

Never send a boy to do a man's job.

Seigneur Rastignac,
where are you going?

Give me a gun!

He's fighting like a Viet Minh.

To the building. Go!

- You wanna live or you wanna die?
- I wanna live.

Losing your appetite for blood, Martin?

Not really.

Not many men are granted
the opportunity to duel for their life.

Bedfellows like money
and power billet together.

Rastignac had lost his money
and all of his influence along with it.

With no collateral,

he was just a another no-account
European of innate depravity.

Rastignac's treatment of the locals

had earned him many enemies
amongst the natives.

Word had spread of Martin's quest
to avenge the local girl.

Many in great sympathy.

With Rastignac's soldiers gone,
his fortune lost...

it would be man against man.

Just the way Martin wanted it.

The matador's relationship with the bull
is closer than with any woman.

They both know that only one of them
will leave the ring alive.

You won, Martin.
I'm not running anymore.

It's empty.

Let's do this like gentlemen.

My name is Jon-Pierre Rastignac.

I have been known by many names,

but the one with which I am
most commonly associated

is "The Executioner."

I face you as an equal.

With the exception of this blade,
we're quite fairly matched.

This is for Valentine.

Watch me.

Dearest Isabelle, I trust you are well.

I'm sorry I have not been in touch.

I deeply, profoundly loved your mother.

And I'm sure what you would really wish
for me to say is that...

I love you, too.

It's been some time, Martin.

We can make the railroad in Saigon
by 4:00 p.m.

Take the train to the airport.

We can be in London in two days,
where you'll stand trial for murder.

But you'll probably kill me first.

- So...
- What?

You can work for me.

I've been ordered to assemble
a team of local operatives.

Men with your skills
are a commodity, Tillman.

Indochina is changing...

and so must we.

Christ never gave him much

but a god-awful talent
for carnage and death.

There was no need for him
to deny it now. He was a killer.

And that's all there was to it.

And so was born...

the legend.

Translation and subtitles by
PEPPER & LALASPAIN
*** SONG LIVES FOR EVER ***

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