All language subtitles for The.United.States.vs.Billie.Holiday.2021.1080p.WEBRip.x264-RARBG[ENG]

‐ Well, I guess it is about kick‐off time.

I'm gonna put this on top of here

so we can get both of us.

My next guest has appeared on Broadway.

Sold out Carnegie Hall.

She's played in movies
out in Hollywood

with the likes of Louis Armstrong.

I am Reginald Lord Divine

and oh, my God...

Oh, my God.

I cannot believe
that we have the opportunity

as I live and breathe
to interview the Lady,

the legend, my hero, Miss Billie Holiday.

The Lady Day.
Which do you prefer, honey?

‐ She'd prefer you pay her money first.

Tell me. Tell me.

What's it like to be a colored woman?

‐ Would you ask Doris Day
a question like that?

‐ Well, Doris Day
is not colored, silly.

‐ Jesus.

‐ I want to talk Strange Fruit.

Yes, Strange Fruit.

My audience wants to know.

You keep getting in trouble for it,

but you are determined to keep singing it.
Troublemaker!

‐ You ever seen a lynching?

It's about human rights.

Government forgets that sometimes.

They just want me to shut up
and sing All of Me.

Let's start where it all began.

At the Cafe Society.

Oh, honey, I loved that place.

I remember seeing
Lena Horne tipping in with... Who was it?

Oh, that drunk. Oh! Tallulah Bankhead.

That's the first time
I saw you sing, honey.

The wrong kind of place
for the right kind of people.

Like Jimmy Fletcher.

Leave him alone.
He didn't know what he was walking into.

Yes, he did. Soldier boy.

You were there with
that famous manager back then.

What was his name?

Crook.

Yeah, that's right.
Crooked‐ass Joe Glaser.

He was there with my husband Monroe.

‐ Have a good evening, sir.
‐ You as well.

Okay, give me a lighter.

‐ Orson Welles is outside,
he needs to see you again.

‐ Tell him tomorrow. Monroe's out of town.

‐ Mm‐hmm.

You got some fans in from Baltimore
that want to see you.

- ‐ Lucio, you dig the show?
- Oh, yeah.

- And who are you?
- Jimmy Fletcher.

‐ She don't know you.
Move. Come on, y'all.

- ‐ Thank you.
- Come on, y'all, meet Lady Day.

‐ Hey, how y'all doing?
Thanks for coming.

- Hello, Miss Holiday.
- Oh, no. Please call me Billie.

‐ We love you.
‐ Ah, y'all are sweet.

So y'all came all the way from Baltimore
to come see me, huh?

‐ Yes, ma'am.
‐ Yes, ma'am.

And you're gonna take me
to a fancy dinner, too.

‐ Gee‐whiz! I'm from Baltimore, too.

Come here. Have some champagne.
Prez, give 'em something to drink.

You just make sure he take you
to Jimmie's Chicken Shack up in Harlem.

- Oh, God, yeah. Mm‐mm‐mm.
- That's good eatin'.

Here. Let me see that.

Where in Baltimore are y'all from?

‐ Near Columbus Park?
‐ Okay, yeah, she's from east.

‐ Yeah. Fells Point.

- Thank you.
- Thank you, Miss Holiday.

No, nigga.

‐ I'm sorry, Mom.
I was on a job interview.

‐ What job interview's, uh, at 10:30...

Don't... stop. Stop.

What job interviews are at 10:30
on a Sunday night?

James, your lies are unbecoming,
and I'm getting tired of it.

Living off your father's
hard‐earned trust.

And you know I hate when you're late.
‐ Yes.

‐ Sunday dinner's all we have together
now that you've moved out.

‐ Yes. Yes, Mother, I was downtown
interviewing for this writing position

with The Sun news.

I had to go to the editor's home.

I got the job.

‐ Your father would turn in his grave

with all that he accomplished.
‐ Mom. Mom, please.

‐ You're not fooling nobody
walking around in that uniform.

Just because I don't hang
in the gutter with your friends

doesn't mean I don't know what's going on.

You're hanging out
with those jazz musicians

in them clubs and God...

God knows what else.
Take this out of here.

‐ I do like the jazz clubs, Mom.

I even met Billie Holiday.

‐ Really?
‐ Yes, really.

You should be congratulating me
on my new job that I start tomorrow.

Finally getting out of this uniform.

‐ Oh, my! Billie Holiday!

I hear that she is quite the lady.

‐ I don't know, Mom.
I hear just the opposite.

‐ Those are just rumors.

Anytime somebody colored
is doing something right,

they paint us out wrong.

- Good morning, Miss Holiday.
- Milk. No, that's for the baby.

Mommy didn't forget about you.

‐ It's like a damn kennel in here.

‐ Vogue magazine want to interview me
about your gowns and such.

‐ You ain't giving no interview
to no magazine.

Somebody wants to hear about her
they can come talk to me.

‐ They sent these over.

‐ I'll take them both.
‐ It'll cost me an arm and a leg.

‐ Shut the fuck up, Monroe.

Send the dressmaker
one of my husband's arms, please.

Ooh, where'd he come from?

‐ Yeah. Joe, nah, he not clicking.

‐ Hey, man. Thanks for coming in.

‐ Sorry, ma'am.
‐ Thank you.

‐ Good riddance.
‐ Ros.

‐ He was horrible.
‐ Take a look.

‐ Yeah, looks good.

They should be running
half‐page ads, at least.

You should be getting
a bigger cut of the door, too.

You're practically
topping the DownBeat poll.

Eleanor Roosevelt has to pull strings
to get in here.

‐ He has a point.

‐ Yeah, you do kind of got a point.

Glaser.

‐ I'm working on it.

‐ When she started here, she was a nobody,
and now she's a star.

‐ I'm working on it, okay?

- ‐ Joe's working on it, honey.
- Give me that.

Mm‐mm. See, look. Told you.

‐ Your friend Anslinger's
in the paper again.

‐ He ain't no friend of mine.
‐ Sure he is.

Glaser's friend, too, right?

I cut Strange Fruit.

‐ No, Joe.
I want to sing the damn song, all right?

The club advertises it.

People pay good money to come here
and hear me sing it.

I've told you a hundred times,

people in high places
don't want you singing that song.

‐ And I've asked you
over a hundred times...

"What people, Joe?"

What you looking at him for?

Shit, I'm the one who pays you.

‐ The government.

‐ Yeah, the government.

People like your buddy Anslinger, right?

‐ Quit it with that, huh?

‐ The song means a lot to me, Joe.

‐ Meeropol wrote it
and he's a fucking commie.

‐ Come on. I don't care, all right?

It's important to me.

‐ You ain't singing that song.

‐ I'll sing what the fuck I want.

‐ Look, if Lady wants to sing the song,
then we should sing the song.

‐ Gives a face to them
little boys being lynched.

‐ Mind your business, Freddy.

Look, bitch,
we ain't going through this again.

‐ You, uh, if you all
ain't Anslinger's friends,

then how come you be sitting with him
every night?

‐ What do you expect us to do, huh?

Run from the man?
I'm trying to protect your ass.

‐ Don't lie to me, nigga.

‐ I ain't lying.

‐ I'm scratching it.

It's for your own good, okay?

Get up, c'mon.

‐ Get the fuck off me. Come on, let's go.

‐ Fuck the feds and fuck Anslinger.

Gentlemen.

You have to help me get this budget
pushed through Congress tomorrow.

‐ We just increased your budget last year.

Thank you, Roy.

McCarthy, I gotta get me
a Roy Cohn just like you.

Why is this so important to you, Harry?

‐ Drugs and niggers are a contamination
to our great American civilization.

‐ Well, that's why we helped you
in the first place.

‐ John, listen to me.
This jazz music is the devil's work.

That's why
this Holiday woman's got to be stopped.

She keeps singing this Strange Fruit song

and it's causing a lot of people
to think the wrong things.

We've warned her to stop singing that,
but she won't.

We've got her husband in the bag,
though she won't stop singing the song.

‐ People are calling the song
a musical starting gun

for the so‐called civil rights movement.

‐ Well, let me ask you a question.

You all got a plan?

We can't just arrest a nigger
for singing a song.

‐ She's inciting a riot.

That's a misdemeanor at best.

She's a drug addict, though.

‐ Exactly.

‐ You go after that bitch on the drugs.

‐ Joe Guy!

I came down here for you to save my ass.

You don't need me to do that.

Shit, Lady...

You do that all by yourself.

It's for your own good, okay.

I'm scratching it.

Thank you.

Can you all hear me out there?

Yes!

‐ Oh, good. 'Cause I sure can hear you.

Say hi to Louis Armstrong everybody.

We're recording a V‐Disc tonight
for all our men and women in the service,

and that makes tonight
all the more special.

You all are fighting
a real fight out there

and we love you for it.

I feel lonely, Louis.

Let's say we try Solitude.

‐ Anything for you, Lady.

Hi.

Is Miss Holiday here?

‐ You finally struck up the nerve
to come see her.

Who is that?

‐ It's the little writer nigga
here to see you.

‐ Freddy! Who is it?

‐ Little pretty motherfucker
that be writing all the time.

‐ Oh! Yeah. Let him back.

‐ You can give me them flowers,
she don't need 'em.

What, you scared?

You better not be one of 'em
gossip folk either.

- Lady, I'll be back.
- Yeah.

No uniform tonight, soldier boy.

You're here all the time.

Jimmy Fletcher.

‐ Great show last night.

‐ Yeah...

Now it's quiet.

I don't like the quiet.

So noisy, you know.

I've been practicing this new thing.

What you think?
‐ I like it.

‐ It's nice, right?
‐ Yeah.

‐ You don't got a girl?
‐ Nope.

I've served my time for the country,
now, starting a new job.

Your boyfriend give you that stuff?

‐ Why, you want some?

‐ No, thanks.

‐ It takes the edge off, you know.

Two, three...

Pour yourself a drink.

...three.

‐ Sure.

‐ One, two, three.

One, two, three.

‐ Why don't you ever sing Strange Fruit?

‐ Strange Fruit.

I got to be pretty high to sing that one.

‐ Never heard you sing it.

‐ It's a song about important things,
you know.

Things that are going on in the country.

I don't think people know
I care about those things.

Most of my other songs
are just about love.

‐ Well, love is important, too, right?

‐ You know, one day,
I'm gonna quit the drinking.

And get off that stuff, too.

Maybe go to one of those hospitals,
you know,

like Judy Garland, those movie stars.

You know how to do the waltz?
That shit is so pretty.

‐ Yes.

‐ You do?

You would look good in a tuxedo.

‐ You are funny.

‐ Yeah.

'Cause I know what you want.

Which one of my songs
is your favorite song?

‐ All of Me.

Yeah.

All right, well,
that'll be our song then.

So you really know
how to do the waltz, huh?
‐ Yes.

‐ That's good. Come on.

‐ Come now. Come on. Come on.
‐ There you go.

That's good.

- I know.
- Right.

‐ I'm sorry for your loss.

‐ Of course.
I lost my father
when I was young.

‐ My Lord...

‐ Chiquita sat on my lap every day.

It was her dog.

Her dog died.

‐ It was the little one, not the big one.

Mister's all right. Yeah?

Mister's fine, right?

Billie, I told you,

you can't let Chiquita
eat off your plate.

That's why she choked.
‐ Ros.

Someone tells me

you are very tight

with Tallulah Bankhead.

You know what I mean?

‐ Now wait. What Tallulah Bankhead
got to do with this?

You said this interview
was a retrospective on her career.

Cut the tape.

Cut the tape.

Little bitch, you got one more time
to ask one more smartass question.

‐ Nobody saw us come in here, right?
‐ No.

Vogue magazine wants to talk to me
about you.

Should I do it?
‐ Go ahead.

Just take me to your room.

‐ James.
‐ Ma'am.

You know I can't allow her on here.

‐ James, don't you know who this is?

‐ I do know who
she is, Miss Bankhead.

Also know I want to keep my job.

Miss Holiday, only Negro allowed
on this elevator's me.

‐ What? So Negroes can't,

but a bunch of goddamn bull daggers can.

‐ Miss Holiday, you got to
take the service elevator.

‐ I'm not taking
a fucking service elevator.

Just move.

Excuse me.

‐ Please.

Now, they're killing us
for less down south.

Lynching men and women.

Please don't cause a fuss here.

‐ Get off me.

Just don't touch me.

‐ I'll take the damn service elevator
with you.

‐ Damn it.

‐ Billie!
‐ Billie!

We can't wait
to hear you sing, Billie!

- Sing Strange Fruit.
- Strange Fruit, Billie.

‐ Get her off that stage.

‐ We gotta get the hell outta here.
‐ Hey, Prez! Get off me.

- Hey, leave her alone!
- What are you doing?

I'm singing this goddamn song!

I'm singing this song!

Hurry your ass up!

You're safe here, baby.

Hey, Joe honey, can you get me
some ice cream, please?

‐ I don't want any ice cream.

‐ Come on, please,
baby, just go to Libby's,

right around the corner.

That sound good.
Ice cream sound good.

‐ All right, baby, I'mma get you
some ice cream, okay?

‐ Thank you, honey.
‐ Hold my head up.

What kind of ice cream you want?

‐ Chocolate ice cream,
I want chocolate ice cream.

‐ Chocolate ice cream on the way.

You ain't gettin' me no ice cream.
You can't get me shit, you.

Where you going? Ice cream that way.

‐ Mm. Go somewhere where the ice cream is.

‐ Get up, Joe.
‐ Mm‐mm.

‐ Fine, I'll go get it myself.

‐ Then you gotta put some clothes on.

‐ I got some clothes on.

You don't see this coat on me?

‐ Nigga, that's my coat.

‐ Shut up, stupid.

It's in here somewhere.

‐ Joe, get up, the Feds!

‐ Both of you are under arrest.

No, Holiday. Stop, stop!

Stop!

Get up.

- Give me your hands.
- Fuck off of me, man.

You drank with me backstage

pretending to be a soldier.

That's low.
‐ Punch that nigga in his face, Billie.

‐ I almost kissed your ugly ass.

You came to my baby's
goddamn funeral, Jimmy.

And all the while you're just
some fucking fed!

You probably don't like
any of my music, do you?

‐ You're under arrest, Miss Holiday.

‐ And you're a lying Black son‐of‐a‐bitch.

‐ Policewoman will be here shortly
to search you for further evidence.

‐ You're gonna search me?

You search me.

That police bitch is only
gonna feel me up.

‐ No, ma'am.
‐ That's what you really
been wanting.

‐ Miss Holiday,
keep your clothes on, please.

‐ You gonna arrest me...

Agent Fletcher.

- Keep out of the way.
- Miss Holiday!

- Give her some room.
- Miss Holiday.

‐ Billie, why did you...

Talk to him. There.

Move, out of the way.

‐ You should feel ashamed.

You stay in trouble with the law,
Miss Holiday.

Don't you want to set
an example for your race

like Ella Fitzgerald and Marian Anderson?

‐ You know, the people that are
hardest on me are my own race.

I need help.

Not jail time.

‐ Move.

- It's Fletcher, right?
- Yes, sir.

‐ Congratulations on your fine work.

‐ Thank you, Mr. Anslinger.

‐ The United States vs. Billie Holiday.
Docket number 14‐243.

The honorable
Judge Cullen Ganey presiding.

All rise.

We need to know
the whole truth about your addiction.

We want you to help us trace
the drug down to the source.

Now the police found heroin in your room
at the Attucks Hotel.

Who supplies you?

‐ Just send me to a hospital.
Get this over with.

‐ Miss Holiday...

I hereby sentence you
to one year and a day...

To jail?

- You'll be remanded
to Alderson Women's Prison.
- Joe! Joe!

Wait, wait! Get your hands off me!

Hey, Joe. You told me
they'd send me to a hospital.

Y'all set me up!

Y'all folks set me up.
Joe, I paid your ass all that money.

Nigga, you go to jail.

I trusted you, Joe.

Stand up, women.

Stand up.
You ain't Billie Holiday in here.

‐ Jimmy.
‐ You did it.

‐ I'm proud of you.

‐ Hey, Shirley, you got anything?
‐ Yes. Here you go.

They knew they couldn't
get no white boys to infiltrate Harlem.

So they had us do it
and you're leading it.

‐ Yes, Sam, I guess I am.

‐ You're paving the way for all of us.

Hoover and them white boys
better get ready.

Can't nobody do it better than a nigga
when he gets the opportunity.

‐ "You should be congratulating me
on my new job

that I start tomorrow."

You lied to me,
just like you lied to Miss Holiday.

Why wouldn't you tell me that
you're working as a federal agent?

‐ They swear you to secrecy, Mom.

‐ You could do anything with yourself.
You don't even have to work.

Why that?

‐ I didn't want to be an undertaker.

‐ The mortuary business didn't work out
so bad for us, James.

Your father's money
left you with opportunities

no ordinary Negroes have.

‐ Drugs are turning Harlem upside down.

I wanted to make a difference.

I am one of the first
Black federal agents ever.

‐ They're using you.

It's not just about the drugs.

They don't want her singing that song,

but if she don't do it, who will?

Ain't no other Negro star
bold enough to do it.

She's singing it for all of us.

That young lady is a hero.

And, uh, even the recording dates,

Billie seemed to be so thrilled
to make the tape with each other.

‐ I'll probably never even marry again.

I know I'm gonna find my ass
right back up in this jail cell.

‐ Why'd you do it?

‐ My father told me when I was a kid

that drugs would be
the death of our people.

‐ For you to be one of them agents,
you sure is stupid.

I'mma tell you something real
about that person you put in jail.

She was raped...

when she was just 10 years old.

You don't know how it is
to be missing something in your life

that only a fix seems to fill.

She get with these men,

and they treat her bad.

She run around, she steal little trinkets.

She look like a million bucks,
but she feels like nothing.

Hop eases the pain,
but then that shit come right back

and it hit harder than before.

Like a hammer.

Billie ain't got nobody.

Singing is her life and...

She give that away to the world.

So, at the end of the day,
she don't hurt nobody but herself.

‐ Here for Mr. Anslinger.

‐ What do you want?
‐ Mr. Anslinger?

It's Agent James Fletcher.

‐ Sit down.

‐ Come on.

‐ There's nothing on Holiday.

Well, how can there be, sir?
She's in jail.

Pardon me for asking,

but why is that song so important to us?

‐ Hoover says it's un‐American.

You've heard those lyrics.

They provoke people, in the wrong way.

‐ The wrong way.

What would you have me do, sir?

‐ You're a good liar.

Now, I need you to go down to the prison
and tell her you're sorry.

She'll believe you.

She's a sucker for men.

‐ Yes, sir.

‐ We'll make sure she never gets
that cabaret license back.

‐ Miss Holiday, you can't trust anyone.

They're gonna set you up
as soon as you get out of here.

They want you down and they want me
to take you down again.

I won't.

‐ What's your game, man?

‐ I thought I was doing the right thing.

‐ Right thing, huh?

You look older, soldier boy.

‐ You said you'd kick that stuff.

Even in prison, you're beautiful.

‐ Don't flirt with me.

You ain't my kind of guy.

Let's go.

- That took forever.
- You know how trains can be.

Hey.

‐ I hate baby's breath.

‐ Hi, baby. Mommy missed you so much.

I didn't think he'd remember me.

This is Ed Fishman. He's a good manager.

Really?

What's he gonna do for me?

Tell her.

‐ Billie Holiday headlining
at Carnegie Hall.

Headlining, kid.

‐ No one will come to see me.

I've been reading the papers.

All them nasty things
they're saying about me.

‐ Tickets went on sale yesterday

and we're selling pretty good.

‐ They just want to hear you sing, Lady.

‐ That's all.

Hey, why don't you stay at Lester's?

‐ Yeah, we can go over the numbers
and you can eat some of Mama's chitlins.

‐ Yeah, I know
what the two of y'all are thinking.

I beat it this time.

I don't plan on
doing none of that shit again.

Carnegie Hall, huh?

Hot damn, Prez!

- Who are you smiling at?
- Shit.

- Oh, hell no, not that nigga.
- She's something.

‐ Take your goddamn dog. Come on.

Well, I'll be damned.

Your little visit to her worked.

I told you not
to get goddamn baby's breath.

They didn't have
no goddamn tulips.

What the fuck you want me to do?
Grow 'em out my ass?

Hey, Miss Mona.

Listen, Bobby, I had an idea.
‐ What?

‐ I think we should make the tune
more of a conversation, you know?

And the band take their cue
from you, Prez.

You play it. You know how you play it.

Not now, honey. Mommy's working.

‐ Yeah.
‐ You dig?

‐ I dig, I dig. Yeah.
‐ You think that'll work?

So glad to have you back, Lady.

Yeah, I'm not feeling too bad.

You know, I've been thinking.

I think we should integrate
the audience for the show.

You know, Blacks and whites
sitting together,

you know, if...

I feel like it would be
more of a party that way.

You know, Carnegie Hall and Broadway,
the whole scene, you know what I mean?

It's meant to keep the Negroes out.
‐ Mm‐hmm.

‐ Let's change it up a little bit.
Do something different.

‐ It's a great idea.
‐ You know.

Oh, no. Miss Mona?

‐ Yes, Miss Holiday?

Honey, could you pull
that pinstripe suit out for me?

- ‐ Okay.
- Yeah, I'm gonna go pray.

It's like the whole world's
out there right now.

‐ What'd I tell ya?
Packed house, Billie, packed house.

- Will you keep your head still?
- You know what? Stop! Stop!

I'll do it myself.

Shit!

All right, I gotta go.

Motherfucker, what are you doing?

- Who's out there right now?
- It's funny you should ask.

I have a whole list
of the most important...

‐ She does look incredible.

‐ Thank you.
Thank you, everybody.

Well, I'm back.

And jail was fun.

‐ Sing Strange Fruit.

‐ I'm afraid I won't be able to do
that one tonight, honey.

‐ I love you, Billie!

‐ I'm a little nervous up here tonight.

All these reporters keep asking me,

"Billie, why you do the things you do?"

You know, I should be more like
this person or that person.

This is what I tell them.

‐ What the hell you mean
you can't get my cabaret card back?

We had three lawyers working on it.

They all came back empty‐handed, I...

‐ Well, they won't let me sing nowhere
without my card.

No clubs, no money, no nothing.

‐ We'll work something out.

‐ You ain't working fuck out!

You son of a bitch!

‐ You're fucking high.

‐ Of course I'm high, Ed.

I wanted to put on a great show.

All the fans...

and all those goddamn feds
sitting in the front row.

Of course I'm high.

Shit.

How am I supposed to work

if I don't got my fucking card, huh?

‐ How in the hell you pull this off?

Is that the band standing up there?
‐ Mm‐hmm.

‐ Is that Ros and Freddy right there?
‐ Yep.

‐ None of your goddamn business, baby.
Now, get out there and sing a song.

‐ Prez, you know I can get arrested
for singing without my cabaret card.

‐ Bobby Tucker swears this John Levy
cat got all the hookups. Come on.

And he's a looker, too.
‐ Mmm.

Yeah.

You don't even know
what we're gonna sing.

Look at y'all fools.

How y'all let him talk y'all into this?

‐ We'll figure it out like we always do.

You just gotta handle him.

All right, y'all.
We kinda gotta get ready for anything.

‐ Am I gonna get arrested
for singing in here?

‐ Come here.

From now on, I don't want you
to worry about none of that.

I'll pay off the right people.

‐ And you would do that for me?

‐ You just got a standing ovation

and three curtain calls from
a sold‐out crowd at Carnegie Hall.

Plus, the cops owe me some favors.

You and me might make a swell team.

‐ Only I decide when
it's time to team up that way.

‐ You got a divorce from Monroe,
didn't you?

‐ That ain't none of your business.

Shit. I'm here to sing.

Make you some money.

‐ Well, go on and make me some money then.

‐ Thank you.

Well, I'm sure you've all heard,

they ain't giving me
my cabaret card back yet.

- Yeah, boo!
- They suck!

‐ So to keep working,
I've been having to run around

singing in Washington and Philly
because I don't need no card there

but tonight...

Feels good to be back home.

Thank you, John.

So, I think we're gonna
try something new tonight.

Them There Eyes.
Them There Eyes.

All right!

...to that van with a sign saying,

"Welcome, Satchmo and his All‐Stars

from the New Orleans Roman Jazz band."

We played about three days concert there

and one of the nights we went out
to the trumpet player's home...

Telling folks I'm a musician.

Say again?

‐ Telling folks I'm a musician.

‐ Just make sure they don't ask you
to play something.

‐ How about that, nigga?

‐ What you got?

‐ Marleen's whorehouse closed.

At least I ain't gotta worry
about giving my wife the clap no more.

‐ Got anything on Louis or Charlie?

‐ Nothing that'll stick.

Do you ever feel strange
about what we're doing, Jimmy?

‐ You sound like my mother.

‐ They got us down in the basement
trying to take out Negroes.

The people I respect, you know?

‐ I told you they don't serve
no piña coladas in here, Ros.

‐ You need to figure out how you're going
to get us paid from that creep.

‐ Yeah.

‐ One moment, Miss Holiday.

Let me arrange a special table for you.

‐ Sure. Thanks.
‐ Who you looking at?

Oh, God!

‐ Hey, baby.

How you doing?
‐ Good.

Glad we're finally having dinner tonight.

‐ Yeah, about that...

I gotta run by the number house.
‐ What?

Baby, no, come on.
You said you was eating with us tonight.

‐ I'm sorry. Forgot I had business.

I'll see you back at the club.
‐ Yeah, sure.

Hey, Levy!

Goddamn! You done shorted me
my money again, nigga.

‐ Told you.

- Hey, who's that?
- Louis McKay.

Some so‐called businessman.

He's really just a boxer and a damn pimp.
He's trouble.

‐ Your table is ready, Miss Holiday.
Just this way.

‐ Luigi, that ain't necessary.

Miss Holiday will be dining
with me tonight.

‐ Oh.

That's mighty swell of you.

Ain't that nice, Ros.

Come on, let's go.

‐ The table's just for two, though.

‐ Oh.

Well...

Well, you wouldn't want to eat with us,
would you?

Do you?

I'll see you at the club later. Yeah?

Here, take the baby from me.

Take the baby. Take the baby. Take her!

Tallulah Bankhead.

Thank you for meeting me.

I'm Federal Agent Harry Anslinger.

‐ Who the hell do you think
you're playing with?

What is this?

‐ I know you're friends with Miss Holiday.

We're trying to help her.

‐ I just bet you are.

‐ We have intel that you don't approve
of her drug use.

‐ I am unaware of any drug use
by Miss Holiday.

‐ Would you consider her a friend?

‐ Yes.

Billie's got lots of friends.

‐ I hear she likes to get to know
her lady friends... intimately.

‐ I wouldn't know about that.

‐ Are you sexually involved
with Miss Holiday?

The whole thing was unnerving.

Darling, I'm sorry you had
to go through all that, Bankhead.

‐ You're not still using that stuff,
are you?

‐ Come on, Bank. It's such a nice day.
Can't we just enjoy it, please?

‐ How's that John Levy treating you?

‐ Well, I'm singing in his club.

‐ I heard he's stealing your money.

You could do better.
They're all using you.

‐ What makes you think I'm not using him?

Mister, knock it off. Come on.

You'll never understand my life,
white girl.

See, Mister can beg, but he can't heel.

But it's not his fault.
I ain't train him right.

I'm gonna train this one.
‐ Yeah.

‐ Small world.

‐ Only if you following me.

‐ Hmm! I'll follow you
to the moon and back, Lady.

Train that dog for you for free.

How about we ditch these snow bunnies
and go get into some black shit?

‐ I loathe the East End.

Really, Billie?

He won't miss us none.

I've been singing here all this time.

Packing that motherfucker.

Did he think he not gonna pay us? Shit.

What you mean, "No"?

‐ Nigga, I'm tired of going to jail.

‐ Come on, Joe. Baby, please, okay?

I just need a little‐‐
I need a little taste. A little taste.

‐ Why? You've been clean for a minute now.

You said we could beat this shit, Billie,

and we can.

‐ Look, I know I did, Joe, okay?

I know I did, but...

You know, you gotta understand, baby.

Right now, I'm in a situation, you know.

And this fucking Levy cat...

You know, he's been
fucking with me, you know?

‐ Look, there's always gonna be somebody
fucking with us.

Hey, what happened to that clinic
you was talking about?

‐ Fuck!

Look, fuck that clinic shit, Joe.

I need some now.

‐ Man, shit. Look,
how about we just go together?

Look, you done took his cash.

Why don't we make some good use of it?

‐ It's not his cash.

This is not his money.

Nigga, this my motherfucking money.

You know what, Joe? Fuck you.
‐ Billie...

‐ If you're not gonna help me,
I'm gonna find somebody who can.

‐ Oh, Jesus.

Hey, come on.

Come on.

You're so silly!

‐ Hey, daddy.

Whoa!

‐ Sneaking into my money
and then try to come back to my club.

‐ Come on, y'all, now. Stop!

Billie, no!

‐ Do something.

Fuck!

‐ Clean your ass up.

Come on, baby. Come on, get up!

Come on. Get up.

‐ Get the fuck off me.
‐ No, Billie! Stop!

‐ Motherfucker, get back here!

‐ Billie, stop! Come on!

Please.

Please, Billie, stop.

Holiday heads to Hollywood...

hopefully without heroin.

Billie Holiday
takes San Francisco by storm.

She has been the victim of both
narcotic agents and dope peddlers

who have harassed her constantly.

This gal sure can play.

Maybe I should learn
to play the guitar.

‐ You know, some people say we have a very
unhealthy thing going on here.

‐ Why?

'Cause I punched you in the lobby?

Yeah, you gonna learn to pay me on time.

Would you believe I ain't used
in almost two months?

‐ Yes, I can, baby.

How come we don't ever talk
about marriage?

You know how much I need you.

‐ Shut up, Levy.

You're already married, remember?

‐ And I told you I was getting a divorce.

‐ Yeah.

I like our arrangement just fine.

‐ Oh. Is that right?

Well maybe this gift
will change your mind.

‐ What?

What you gone and got me, daddy?

‐ Just a little somethin'.
‐ What?

‐ Come here.

‐ What is this?
‐ No, don't worry about that.

‐ What is this?
‐ Nothing.

‐ Levy, what is this?

I'm not taking this shit.

The fact that the drug works,
the spoon, syringe and so forth

were found in a waste paper basket.
It was odd, yes.

Typically, the...

The junkie will keep their works close by.

And‐‐ and she was holding
the opium, but I...

‐ So it could have been a frame up?

‐ I‐I didn't say that.

‐ What you mean by that then?

‐ I, I...

‐ Fuck.

‐ People, please, please. Back off.

‐ What happened in there, Billie?

‐ Well, they tried framing me,
but they got caught red‐handed.

‐ What's next for you, Billie?

‐ I'm tourin' America.

Yeah, that's right.
Yeah, I'm going on tour.

You all can catch me on tour.

‐ You looked like Nat King Cole up there.

The opium was on her, but I...

You sounded like Stepin Fetchit.

All of our hard work
just went down the drain.

‐ You wanted me to lie up there?

‐ You had a job to do and you failed.

Now guess what, Nat King Fucking Fetchit?

You're going on tour.

‐ Why that Black ass federal agent
keep following us for?

This nigga's still following us.

‐ Yeah, I seen him two miles back.

‐ Why don't he go fuck with
some white people?

‐ Let me see what it says.

‐ Shit say, "I'm cured for good now".

That bitch probably high
right now, talking about...

‐ What she got on, man? What she got on?

Hey, you. Come here.

How did I do?
‐ You've done fantastic.

We're sold out.
Don't stop.

‐ December. Friday.

‐ Okay, here we go.

‐ Ain't you been watchin'.

Jesus ain't watch Freddy's hand.

‐ In Jesus' name, y'all better hope
he watchin' Freddy's hand.

‐ In Jesus name, we gonna watch your hand
with that money you not paying us.

Jesus said he's gonna
give us some money.

That's what we gonna do
while we bringin' the Holy Spirit in here.

Shut the fuck up.

‐ Oh, hell, no. I know you better
get the fuck out of here.

Hey, hey, hey, leave him alone.
Leave him alone.

‐ After all the trouble
this cat done caused us?

‐ Leave him be.

Lady, you know, a hard head
make a soft ass.

You ain't learned your lesson yet.

‐ It's complicated.

Come here. Sit down.

You can fuck around with this one
right here if you want to,

but I need to get paid.

If the club ain't have the money,
then why we play?

‐ They gave us what they had, Prez.

Come on, man. You know
we'll make it up at the next one.

Thanks for what you did for me
in that courtroom.

‐ They want you to think
that they fired me.

‐ Is you still working for 'em?

‐ It's complicated.

‐ So you really just here to hang out?

You know he got
some candy for you.

Hey, Candyman.

‐ Let me blow a bubble.

‐ What you get?

All right. Here's what we got.

Yeah, that is all we got.

‐ Okay.

‐ I sure hope you gave him enough for me.

‐ You know, I did.
‐ Shut the fuck up, Freddy.

‐ What, you mad
'cause I ain't got my lipstick on?

He be gettin' so mad
at me sometimes.

That man crazy about me.

‐ Freddy, play the damn game.

‐ I'm trying to get sane.

Why we don't do that track?

- We'll do...
- Billie's Blues, yeah.

‐ Uh‐oh. Wait. Wait.
Mm‐mm. Mm‐mm.

So, Billie, how you gonna pay
that drug man?

But I ain't got nothing.

‐ Come on, Ros.

Y'all know I need my medicine.

‐ Medicine, my ass.

‐ You knew what you
was getting yourself into

when you decided to come on the road.

Shut up, Freddy.
I wasn't even talking to you.

Just gotta do like I do.

- Shut the fuck up.
- The hell you do.

- Nah, Freddy...
- That bitch don't pay me my money,

I take her shit.
‐ Get outta my goddamn clothes.

‐ I'm just letting you know
I'm gonna take everything

except your bra and your panties.

I can't‐‐ I can't wear that size.

I can't wear a gown. I ain't gonna...

If you gonna do it, do it right.

Here.
‐ Hey, Fletcher.

You're gonna follow us around
the whole country in that car?

‐ I ain't got nothing better to do.

‐ I trust you about as far as I can
throw your ass.

Oh.

‐ The Lady trusts me.

‐ No, I don't.

You better damn not.

All right, now shut up. This is serious.

Here we go.

‐ Hypothetically speaking, all right?

Let's say you catch Freddy.

Now, even though he don't have
no drugs on hand,

in the trunk of his car,
there is a considerable amount.

What then?
‐ She said "considerable amount."

‐ You drive around with drugs
in the trunk of your car?

‐ She said, "Hypothetically."
Nigga, I don't even got no car.

You see me driving a car,
that shit is stolen.

I promise you that.

‐ Well, if it's your car,

then they could probably bust you
for possession or something.

- Damn.
- Now that's some ridiculous shit.

‐ Why the FBI shittin' on me?

‐ All right, ladies and gentlemen,
let's keep this party going.

It is time for the main event.

Okay.
Well, it's time for me to go.
Y'all have a blessed night.

Come on, Ros.
You ain't got to go!

- You ain't got to go!
- It's all right.

‐ Bye.
‐ Bye, bitch.

‐ Pray for us, Ros.

‐ Do it.

If you're with us,
go ahead and do it.

Mr. Federal Agent.

Relax.

Let that shit kick in.

You feel it?

That shit good, ain't it?

Come with me.

I never had a chance
to play with dolls.

Momma.

I started working when I was six.

Momma.

‐ Hey, Eleanora.
‐ Hey. You seen my Momma?

‐ No.

I missed you, beautiful.

‐ Where the fuck is my mother?

‐ She down the hall, Eleanora.

‐ Momma.

‐ Momma.

Shit.

‐ Momma, where you been?

‐ You got to go, Eleanora.

‐ Why?

‐ It's time for you to figure out
how to make your own money now.

Come on.

‐ I don't want to go, Momma.

‐ You're a woman now, Eleanora.

It's a woman's job
to keep her man happy, all right?

‐ What you mean "happy"?

‐ What the fuck
do you think I mean "happy"?

Happy!

Make that nigger happy.
Touch him, caress him.

‐ I don't want to be a fucking whore.

‐ Well, it's good enough for me,
ain't it? Huh?

Go on, you can do it.

There ain't no room for you here.

You takin' up space.

Ms. Gerty around the corner,
she got a room for you.

‐ Please don't make me go, Momma.

I want to stay with you.

‐ I‐‐

I told Ms. Gertrude to look after you.

Come on now.
You come back anytime you want.

The fuck you think?
She think she can't go no damn where.
She a superstar.

I can go any damn where I want to.

Be careful with this feeling.

This love right here, baby.

It won't love you back.

I promise.

Daddy, get Momma
down from that tree.

Daddy!

‐ Come on.

‐ I've got it ready. Come on, come on.

Come on.

‐ Help me out, please.

‐ Get your hands off her.
‐ Stop! Stop!

We need to nail this bitch.

Are you telling me she hasn't done drugs
the entire time she's been on the road?

No, sir.

Are you there, sir?

‐ Make sure you call me tomorrow.

‐ Yes, sir.

Thought you were asleep.

‐ You were making a phone call...

...to your boss.

‐ Yes.

‐ You tell him everything I do.

‐ No.

‐ You tell him you shot up?

Tell him you been fucking me good?

Take your shit off, nigger.

What are they going to give you, Jimmy?

Shiny gold watch and a brand‐new car?

Your picture in the paper?

I get all of that every day of the week.

Come on, Jimmy.

What?

‐ Not like this.

‐ What?

Then, like what?

Like what?

‐ Hey.

Like this.

‐ Oh!

- What you doing?
- I got smoke in my eye.

Watch out.
Freddy will knock it to first.

Come on, Lester. What the fuck!

What the fuck kind of throw is that?

‐ Come on.
‐ Come on, baby.

God damn!

Yes!

Oh, shit.

This motherfucker
must take him some vitamins.

‐ Look at Miss Freddy.

Hey, hey, what's up with the bags?

What's up with the bags, Billie?

‐ Jimmy, we got to talk.

We really got to talk.

‐ How about we...

How about we go back to New York?

Hmm?

Take you in my car, we can...

get you the help you need.

‐ No, that's not gonna work.

You gotta find you a nice girl, okay?

And that ain't me.

I know what you thinking.

Dumb.

Me, I only know a certain
kind of love that makes me feel safe.

At least what you and I got here is...

I don't understand this.

I don't feel in control.

‐ Billie.

You called saying you were stranded,

so I drove all night to get here.

Let's go.

We got a plane to catch.

‐ I'm coming.

Billie, let's go.

‐ I'm sorry, Jimmy.
‐ Yeah.

Billie, I know
goddamn good and well

you ain't about to leave us
out here like no stray mutts.

We got no damn gas money to get home.

‐ All right, Ros, Freddy, come on.

‐ Lady, I thought we was family.

You don't do this shit to family.

‐ And I'll wire the money
as soon as I get home.

Don't look at me that‐‐

- So done with your shit, Billie.
- Take my bag, Ros.

‐ Fuck. The fuck we supposed to do?

‐ Billie, let's go.

Let's go!

‐ See you in church, soldier boy.

‐ Fuck you, bitch.

Come on, Carl.
Let's get on the goddamn bus.

‐ Billie.

We gotta figure out
some kind of way to get home.

Got a plane to catch now. Let's go.

I got my eye on you, little nigger.

That shit ain't funny around here neither.

Louis McKay
came to save the day, bitch!

‐ Where's my stuff, Shirley?
‐ I don't know.

‐ Where's my shit?
‐ I don't know Mr. Fletcher.

You'll have to ask Mr. Williams.

‐ What's going on, Sam? Where is my stuff?

‐ Sorry, Jimmy.

I don't know. What do you want me to say?

‐ Where is my shit, Sam?

‐ They took it.

They're moving you
over to Administration, Jimmy.

They want me to pick up
where you left off.

‐ This drug war is just a war on us.

I got a family, man.

I can't leave.

They're gonna fuck you, too.

Now, let's get on with this straight.

In the more realistic sense,

the big comeback of her career
was launched not tonight,

but over five years ago,

when there was a year of darkness.

When she fell victim to one
of society's most dreaded illnesses,

the use of narcotics.

Billie, it's a privilege
to have you with us tonight.

‐ Thank you, George.
It's an honor to be here.

‐ Now, Billie, this is the usual part
of our procedure in this show

where we introduce from the audience
the family of our guests,

those near ones who were there,

to give the strength and security needed

when their kinfolk are in trouble.

But there's no one here
to remember for Billie.

No family.

Not a single relative that she knows.

‐ Yes, well, I have my husband.

Mr. Louis McKay.

‐ I'm going to see the goddamn Pope.

‐ Sit your ass down.
You ain't going no‐fucking‐where.

‐ Take the picture, man.

Man, take the goddamn picture.

‐ I wasn't looking.

‐ Good times.
‐ Time.

‐ Yes.
‐ Good time.

That's how you say it right?
"I love you good time"?

‐ Good time?

‐ That's right.

Your gum, Ms. Holiday.

‐ You motherfuckers just can't stand
seeing two beautiful Black people

running around in this world
having a good time in life.

And now you here wasting my time.

‐ There wasn't enough on you
to make a case.

You guys got lucky.

‐ I'm a lucky guy.

‐ Well, her luck's running out.

You can get on the right side.

Help me plant some heroin on her.

We need her to talk.

‐ Shit.

I can't make her say nothing.

Just like I can't make her stop singing
that goddamn song.

‐ She tells everybody
you live off her money.

‐ She wouldn't have any money
if I ain't keep her in line.

So you're wearing the pants, right?

‐ Damn right.

‐ Well, maybe she's got you by the balls.

‐ You can have the bitch.

Her audience wants to know
about Louis McKay.

You two seemed so in love and...

then he vanished.

Poof!

‐ Yeah, McKay and me, we're separated.

He's trying to control my estate.

But my friend Jimmy's been with me
and he's been helpful.

‐ Helpful, all right.

He's a Fed.

‐ What is the government's problem
with Billie Holiday?

Why is the government always after you?

‐ My song.

Strange Fruit.

It reminds them that they're killing us.

Reminds them.

It reminds you, too, Reginald.

‐ Lady, don't say that.

See, this is why
she's always getting in trouble.

I'll edit that part out.

‐ You don't have to edit shit
for Harry Anslinger.

He was in charge of Prohibition, remember?

See us drinking, don't you?

He can't afford to lose with drugs.

‐ But it's a war on drugs,
not on you, Lady.

‐ Yeah, that's what
they want you to believe.

They say they want
the names of my suppliers.

They don't want no names.

They want to destroy me.

He wants me to stop singing
what's in my soul.

‐ Well, why don't you stop singing
the damn song?

Wouldn't your life
be easier if you just behaved?

I can't seem to get these words.

Where is that?
Lady Sings the Blues?

You recorded that one
a few years back, Billie.

Baby, we're gonna go home, okay?

Jimmy.

Shit. Where's my rum?

I should have been
a gospel singer, you know.

‐ Gospel singer?

‐ Yeah, gospel.

I like Sister Rosetta.

She bring a little sunshine
to death, you know.

Prez died.

His wife wouldn't let me
sing at the funeral.

I miss him.

‐ I'm sorry.

‐ You remember last time
we was all together?

I left him there, Jimmy.

‐ I love you, Billie Holiday.

‐ My liver don't work no more.

They say it's cirrhosis.

I want you to blow!

‐ I want you to blow!

Ms. Mona, call a doctor.

‐ Your fans love you.

Look at this.

Look here.

Look.

NAACP says, "Billie Holiday
is the voice of our people."

‐ Try not to blame yourself
for any of this.

‐ You got well‐wishers crowding up
in the street outside.

It's pretty wild out there.

‐ That's swell.

Give me some of that.

I must look a mess.

Hey, help me paint my nails,
would you?

‐ Uh...

That... I don't know
how to do that, Billie.

‐ Come on, man.

Get my purse.

‐ Yeah.

‐ I got two bottles in there.
‐ Okay.

‐ Give me that blood red.

‐ Blood red.

All right.

‐ You know what you're doing, right?
‐ I told you, I don't.

You don't listen.

Hello, sir.

You're out of line being here.

‐ Maybe he's supplying her.

‐ If you obstruct us,
we have enough to tie you to her.

And that's a long way down.

‐ You hate her.

Despite all this shit in her life,

she's made something of herself,
and you can't take it,

because she's strong,

beautiful,

and Black.

‐ Get up, nigger.

‐ Come on! Stop! Hey, what you all doing?

‐ Stop it, y'all!

Yo.

Come on, what are we doing?

Hey, baby.

I heard you wasn't feeling so good.

‐ Yeah, all of a sudden, I'm not.

‐ Let me take you home.

No!

‐ Jimmy, come here.

What do critics
think about my last record?

‐ Thought you didn't care
about the critics.

‐ I don't.

I want folks to like it, you know.

‐ The critics didn't like it.

‐ Did you like it?

‐ Yes.

‐ Go on, scram,

so I can get this man out of here.

‐ Jimmy. Jimmy.

Anslinger's gonna be here in a minute.

We gotta go.

‐ See you in church, soldier boy.

‐ Hey, princess.

We need to talk about these papers, honey.

I need you to sign them.

She may not talk to you.

I don't feel good
about this, brother.

Hey, blondie.

Jimmy.

Ooh. It is a mess in there.

‐ Yeah.

‐ My friend's a nurse here.

Jimmy, they're going
to take her off Methadone

and she's in withdrawal.

If they do it,
they're going to kill her.

So you have to do something, Jimmy,

because those bastards
won't let me in there.

So you have to do something, you hear me?
You have to do something.

Shh.

‐ Anslinger's going to plant
heroin on her.

Hello, sweetie.

My wife is a big fan.

‐ She understands what you need.

Billie and me discussed things.

She hasn't been well, but she's sorry
for the trouble she's caused

and she's ready to help.

‐ For the record, I'm going to need you
to state your name.

‐ My name is Billie Holiday.

Go on, Lady.
Go ahead and speak your peace.

‐ You're a victim of drugs.

We know that.

‐ I blame nobody but myself.

‐ Go ahead and tell 'em
what you need to tell 'em, baby.

‐ Ms. Holiday,
you want to clear your name, right?

Get us off your case
and you'll never see us again.

‐ You think I'm going
to stop singing that song?

Your grandkids
will be singing Strange Fruit.

Y'all motherfuckers think
y'all got something on me?

You don't.

You stupid bitches don't got shit on me.

Suck my Black ass.

Let Lady live! Let Lady live!

Harry Jacob Anslinger,
distinguished citizen,

for your dedicated efforts to combat
the illegal traffic of narcotic drugs

have earned for you
the respect of the world community.

Signed, John F. Kennedy.

‐ One, two, three. Here we go.
One, two, three.

‐ One, one, two.
‐ One, two, three.

One, two, three. One, two, three.

Out.
‐ Out.

‐ In. That's the wrong spin, Jimmy.

‐ It's... Okay.

‐ One. One...
Get off of my Prada dress, please.

One, two, three. One, two, three.

One, two, three.

One, two, three.

One, two... Jimmy!

Prada! The dress is Prada!

‐ They didn't make Prada back then.

‐ Fuck you, nigger.

‐ Billie!