Original subtitles

You should do me one favor.

Don't give up.

You'll get to America in the end.

Let's get down to business, shall we?

I'm getting to America.

If you've got something that could make that happen, I'm in.

I might just have something.

We've made no fucking progress at all!

If London falls, the northern cities will surrender.

Full-scale artillery bombardment will do the trick.

League council are electing a new prime minister.

As you may have heard, the last one killed himself.

This good woman is the rightful queen of England,

and we are the rightful government of England.

I have no gift for politics,

but this new chap Aziz might listen to reason.

It had occurred to me.

Where the hell have you been?

Round and about.

This is me friend Katie.

I've told her nowt about me past,

and you'll do likewise, eh?

- Are you trying to seduce me? - I guess I am.

I've never been seduced by a crypto-fascist bastard before.

I'm going home.

No. You leave when I say you can leave.

Fuck you.

I'm Gully Troy, and you don't cross me.

I'm Alfred Pennyworth, and I just did.

Thank you for helping me.

Ancillary technical staff. Dr. Lucius Fox.

Ladies and gentlemen, you're about to see

a demonstration of Stormcloud.

This is the future of chemical warfare.

This is victory, ladies and gentlemen. Victory.

Get out of my way!

Fuck.

Get out of my way!

Die, you evil bastard!

No! Stop!

You once told me you could get me on a plane to America.

Well, times have changed. Everyone and his dog wants out.

Well, the embassy still operates

a regular flight out once a week,

but... there are hundreds on the waiting list.

I need three seats on next week's flight to Gotham.

Seats are like gold dust. Air crews are on the take.

Customs are on the take. Immigration...

I didn't think we'd fly for free.

How much?

Well, five grand a head?

Fuck.

- I thought half that, tops. - Mm.

That's a conservative estimate.

- You can't make that? - Not at this exact moment, no.

Well, maybe I could help.

How?

I could loan you the money you need.

Oh. That's very kind of you. No, thanks.

- It's no bother at all. - No.

Why not?

I'd rather not be in debt to the CIA.

I know where that leads.

No strings. Between friends.

We are friends, aren't we?

You can call it that.

Thanks all the same.

I'll get your money for you. No problem.

File 457NFH. Contact log 35.

Alfred Pennyworth.

Subject made contact seeking assistance regarding travel to

and residence in America.

Subject is a recruitment target of long standing.

Good morning, sleepyhead.

Morning.

- Oh, my God. - I know.

- Oh. - What did I do wrong?

Of course you don't know how to make coffee.

- You have people for that. - I do.

And I'll bring them along next time.

I really have to get going.

What are you doing today?

Just, um, routine sentry duty.

You've been pretty busy

- with the League lately. - I guess.

You're not putting yourself in too much danger, I hope.

Are you?

Is it my imagination or are you pumping me for information?

No. No, certainly not.

I worry about you, that's all.

- You don't worry about me? - No.

I assume you can take care of yourself, like I can.

Well, I figure when you're in a relationship,

people, they-they look out for each other.

This is what, the third time we've had sex?

- Fourth. - Okay, fourth.

That's not a relationship. That's sex four times.

It's a sex thing.

And you're actually pretty good for a rich guy.

Oh, gee, thanks.

Well, if this, if this "sex thing" is

ever gonna turn into a relationship,

then we'll-we'll need to be spending

a certain amount of time together.

Okay. Well, I really have to go.

Uh, like, for instance, right now.

Can't League business wait a couple of hours?

No. It's important.

Sentry duty? Really?

You're trying to make me mad.

You are pumping me for information.

C-I-fucking-A to the bone.

I give up.

Well, you can't just go through life pretending

you like being alone.

Now, I know it's very, very fashionable and modern.

I-I'm not pretending. I'm not pretending.

- But, Jesus, would an... - Would an actual relationship

be that bad?

I mean, let's be honest, most women would,

they would...

Oh, no, please continue.

Go on.

Tell me what, um, most women would do.

Most women wouldn't try so hard to get themselves killed.

It's like you want to get hurt.

It's like somewhere deep inside, you hate yourself.

It's true.

I don't love myself quite as much as you love yourself,

but, um, that's kind of healthy, I think.

Learn to hate yourself a little bit more, be good for your soul.

See how you work. When you make someone else feel bad

about themselves, you feel good about yourself.

You're a self-esteem vampire.

Maybe you should leave now.

Okay, I...

I take that back. That was unfair.

Wh... Unfair because it's not true

or unfair because it's true?

I misspoke.

You're not Dracula. But you...

...you do have some tendencies.

You know what? Fuck you.

I rest my case.

Ugh.

Clean your goddamn apartment.

Slob.

I've thought about you often since we met so strangely.

- How are you faring? - Well enough, ma'am. And you?

Oh, one god-awful ghastly thing after another.

I'm sorry to hear that.

Keep out of politics, my dear.

Where on earth are you taking me?

Welcome.

A pleasure to meet you, Dr. Gaunt.

Prime Minister.

Martha, thank you so much for arranging this.

- You are a treasure. - Isn't she?

The minute I met her, I knew she was special.

Uh, well, I'll leave you guys to it.

And we have guards surrounding the place,

so you won't be disturbed.

Please.

Odd venue.

It was one of my favorite restaurants.

Exquisite cassoulet. Mmm.

Alas.

I was surprised to hear from you.

I wanted to open channels of communication...

- Discreet channels. - Why now?

I've wanted to speak to the League for some time,

but Archbishop Potter was an amiable zealot.

I hear that you're a reasonable man.

I've heard the same of you.

Well, let's reason with each other, shall we?

Well, I'd love to do that, but I'm afraid

Lord Harwood and I are old acquaintances.

A good man in many respects

but not near as reasonable as we are.

Great leaders are often more passionate

than they are reasonable, don't you find?

I'm happy to talk in either case, but do you speak

for Harwood and the Union or for yourself?

I speak for the good of the English people.

Ah. How can I refuse such virtue?

If you were to agree, a cease-fire,

a negotiated surrender on honorable terms,

what would those terms be?

Surrender.

- I hadn't considered the notion. - Of course you have.

Have the Army, the Navy, the Air Force solidly behind us.

London is surrounded.

You have, what, five percent of the country?

Geographically.

Psychologically, I'd say we were still ahead.

You've conquered cities, not souls.

I don't think you understand the seriousness

of the situation, Prime Minister.

We haven't even used our most effective weapons yet.

We've been showing great restraint.

Oh, yes, your secret weapon.

Stormcloud, is it?

- What is that, exactly? - You tell me.

No, no, no. We know all about it.

I was just curious to know if you know.

Perhaps Harwood compartmentalizes

such sensitive matters.

You know nothing about Stormcloud.

If you did, you'd be happy to surrender.

So tell me.

God help you if Stormcloud is ever deployed.

God help all of us.

Dear me. Old Testament stuff, eh?

Yes.

I wish I could tell you more.

Your message in summary...

We should surrender to vague terroristic threats.

You should come to terms with reality, Prime Minister.

The League holds London.

You daren't destroy the city to pry us loose.

The world's opinion would not forgive you.

While we hold London, I am the prime minister

of Her Rightful Majesty's government.

We are England.

You are just political criminals.

That's reality.

Fuck's sake. That much?

Yeah.

Fuck's sake.

Hold on.

That means we don't have enough money, Alfie.

Yeah, mate. That's what I've been saying.

Oh, fuck.

Alfie, guess what. You'll never guess.

It's good news. Guess.

Your dad's joined the circus?

Gertcha. Pukka whistle, this. Look at that lining.

Arm and a leg, mate.

- Guess. - Tell.

- She's only making a record. - Dad.

I wanted to tell him.

- I'm making a record. - Yes!

Yeah. Brilliant. Well done. Oh...

Well, it's just a demo for the record company, but, still,

- it's a record. - Aye.

It's a "solid smash," as we call it.

Will you come to the recording session?

Please?

Uh, yeah, sure. I'll try.

- You always say that. - And I always try.

Please come. I sing better when I feel safe.

Yeah, I'll be there.

Thank you.

- Bye, Daveboy. - Keep well, then.

Be cool, boys.

I do not believe you.

- What? - For shame.

Yeah, all right, all right. Leave it out.

- I'm not in the mood. - Oh, poor you.

You're not in the mood? That time of the month,

- is it? - Leave it alone.

Away forever in a week,

and you've still not told the poor lassie?

Well, we're not going anywhere, are we?

We ain't got the money. That's the problem, not Sandra.

Soon as we know we're going, I'll tell her, all right?

I'll tell her. Fuck's sake.

All right, all right. I'll leave it alone.

First we need money.

Well, that's easy enough.

We need to swallow our pride and do one last job with Gully.

- You think so? - What else can we do?

I don't know, but Gully's dangerous.

Mad as a hatter,

but we knew that before we took the last job.

So what's the difference now?

True. No difference, really.

So, you think we should do it? One more job with Gully?

- What do you think? - I'm asking you.

I don't know. You're the decision maker.

Well, why's it always me that has to decide?

Why the fuck can't you do the thinking for once?

Really? After all these years, now?

Now you want me to do the thinking?

- You're going soft, man. - Eh...

What's got into you?

Thoughts?

Easy enough entry.

No good way out.

There's always a good way out.

You're the expert.

I need to be sure of you, Alfie.

You've been a little, uh, flighty recently.

Personal problems, hmm?

Don't worry about me. I'm in.

Good enough.

If you do have problems, I hope you know

that you can always come to me for advice...

...encouragement.

Thanks.

Uh, should we say, uh,

1100 hours on Friday at... my house?

Your house?

Yes.

Well, wouldn't somewhere neutral be better?

No.

Your place it is, then.

Unhand me!

What is it?

It's Mrs. Gaunt, sir.

What happened? Is she all right?

The security branch informs us that Mrs. Gaunt held

a face-to-face meeting with Prime Minister Aziz yesterday.

Yeah. I knew all about that.

Sir?

I instructed her to contact him.

She's keeping me well-informed.

Good. That's a relief.

I trust the meeting was constructive.

Well, that's as maybe, but it's none of your affair.

These are matters of state beyond your ken.

- Yes, sir, I just... - Beyond your ken,

do you hear?

Clerk.

I want to call a private North London number.

Good evening, sir.

Half price on all leather items.

Uh, would that include truncheons?

It would. Uh, we've a larger range in stockroom

if you don't see one there that you like.

Do you have this with more of a glossy finish?

More of a formal look.

Yeah, I think so. Let's see.

Get the phone, would you, Bet?

- I'm busy! - I'm with a customer!

What are you looking at, chubs?

Uh, nothing. I'm-I'm not...

I mean...

I know you.

Where do I know you from?

You're that beefeater from the Tower.

- Oh, fuckery. - I don't know who you are.

I've, I've never seen you before.

Sorry, sir, no one's answering.

Now, then...

...what's your name?

Tell us your name!

- What the hell? - No bother.

He's an old friend. Just can't remember his name.

- G-George. - George.

- Of course. - Please let me go. I...

I won't tell. I won't say a word, I swear.

- Just, please don't hurt me. - Who the hell is he?

What are you going to do to him?

Only one thing to do. You're for the chop, George.

- No. - Can't be helped.

We can't let him go.

No! Peggy, tell her no!

I would, but she's not wrong.

We let him go, he'll be off to the law

and then she's back in the Tower for hanging again.

Hanging? Again? What do you mean?

Thank you very much. Very discreet.

Sorry. Just slipped out.

What are you talking about?

I'll explain later, shall I? When things are less hectic.

Explain now!

I told you. I told you, tell her nowt.

I said I was sorry.

Any road, she's got a right to know your history.

- What history? - Nothing.

Nothing really bad.

Shut it, you.

It must be worse than what I've seen,

or why would you be ashamed to tell me?

Fuck off!

Fuck off, the pair of you!

We had a little sister.

Mary Ann. Three years younger than Bet.

We called her May.

When Bet was 11, they were on their way to school,

and May fell in the canal and drowned.

People said Bet pushed her in.

But that's people.

They'll think the worst of you.

Did she?

- Push her in? - No, it was an accident.

I know it was.

Bet would have died for her. Hush.

Well, ever since then, she tries to be good.

But bad luck just comes after her, like George here.

He raped her.

And she does as she's done by, our Bet.

She's done some very bad things.

Tell me.

I'm not afraid.

You should be.

I've been looking for you.

Well, you found me.

Peggy's told me everything.

About May and... and what's been done to you.

What you've done. Why didn't you tell me?

I was trying to make a good impression, all right?

Sorry I wasn't honest.

Now you know.

Now you can fuck off.

I'd rather stay.

- Really? You would? - I would, but...

Oh, here we go. But what?

You can't just go around hurting people when you feel like it.

You've got to stop doing that.

Well, I can try.

- I'll do me best. - No.

You've got to promise that you'll stop.

All right.

I promise.

After George, that's me done.

Not even George.

Not even George?

How's that gonna work?

I don't know, but we'll think of something.

All right?

Here we go. Unto the fucking breach, my dear friends.

Eh?

I said, "Here we go."

Yeah. Here we go.

You all right?

You're as nervy as a blind cat.

I'm good. This is the hand we've been dealt.

This is what we have to do. That's what Bazza would say.

Hmm.

Morning.

Come in.

They're all through there. Cup of tea?

Two sugars, please, love.

I'm surprised to see you here.

It's just business.

I thought you had more self-respect.

Won't happen again.

Oh, that.

No, that was nothing.

I meant this idiotic crime spree you're going on.

Oh, that. Piece of cake.

Hmm. How do you take your tea?

Last of the pot, dab of milk, no sugar.

The night's takings are kept in the manager's office

in the basement, which we access via this door.

Here.

Now, the main event is scheduled for

- five four-minute rounds... - Ah, thank you.

...with a minute's break between each round.

We're gonna use that 25-minute window

to get in and out

while every eye is on the ring.

'Cause when the fight is over,

every one of these exit routes will be jammed with people.

Questions?

- Aye. - Yeah?

What if the fight ends early?

The main event always goes to the final round.

They want to sell all the beer and the pies.

Can't have punters leaving early.

Aye, but what if there's a... a knockout

or a fucking submission or something?

The fights are staged, Daveboy.

What, you mean, like, fixed?

No. No, they're not.

- Are you soft? - Everyone knows they're fixed.

Well, s-some of them are bent, maybe, I get that, yeah.

It's human nature to cheat, but...

A-All of them?

- Yes, mate. - Oh, for fuck's sake.

And here's more bad news for you.

Father Christmas is bollocks, too.

- Shut the fuck up, Banjo. - Steady on, lads.

- Shut yourself. - What did I just say?

Who the fuck are you to say shite to me?

- I'm warning you. - Silence!

Jesus.

Can you look at me, Melanie?

I have commanded a thousand men in battle.

I have taken cities and sat with kings.

Sat with fucking kings.

And yet here I am, with a rabble of squabbling thieves.

Pitiful, isn't it?

You gonna say something, darling?

God, I'm bored.

No, no, no. Don't-don't... don't leave just yet.

Melanie...

You have to be polite to our guests.

Low creatures they may be,

but they do pay for all of your fucking shoes.

Hmm.

Thank you all very much for my fucking shoes.

And thank you for putting up

with my husband's appalling manners.

Ah, God, I love that woman.

Brave as a lion.

Now, where was I?

We have 25 minutes, no more, no less.

- Clear. - Go. Go.

Ladies and gentlemen, it's time for the main event.

A five-round contest

for the Ladies Catchweight Championship of England.

And coming to the ring first, the fighting pride of Poplar,

the masked mistress of mayhem,

the meanest woman in the home counties...

Mad Janet Murphy.

You wankers.

You paid to see me.

You paid.

I can't hear you.

Oh, now I can hear you.

Come on. I can't hear you.

Wait. You two, wait here.

Anyone comes through those doors, deal with them.

- Yes, sir. - And now,

your golden girl.

The Venus of violence, the Aphrodite of affray.

The undisputed catchweight champion of England,

Rowdy Rose Perkins.

Yeah!

Come on!

No trouble.

Let's all go home happy tonight, yeah?

For fuck's sake.

Sorry about this. Won't be long.

I don't know the combination, so there's no use asking.

We know. Thank you.

Do you know what happened to the last blokes

that tried this?

The Barratt Brothers?

Ha! Amateurs.

You're laughing now.

Wait till your bollocks

are nailed to the floor.

Everybody always talks about

nailing bollocks to the floor,

but nobody actually does it, do they?

- You'll see. - Empty words, pal.

Down.

Slow down. We got time.

21 minutes.

Shit.

Seconds away from round two.

- 14 minutes. - Nearly there.

Ah, this is the life, eh?

Gets the blood flowing.

Fuck me, it's hot.

What the hell's wrong with you?

What's wrong with you?

What the fuck?

Just get back to the routine.

- What? - Three...

Wait, wait.

Ease up.

No, you fucking ease up.

You bitch!

Easy, girls. Easy.

12 minutes.

Break it up, ladies!

Stop that!

All right. Desk, please.

- Daveboy? - Yeah?

You three, heads down.

Fire in the hole.

Uh, ladies and gentlemen,

uh, we regret to inform you that,

for unavoidable medical reasons,

this concludes this evening's entertainment.

Thank you very much. Please leave in an orderly fashion.

Thank you and good night.

They're ten minutes early.

I told you the fights weren't fixed. Let's go.

We haven't finished the job.

Well, we can't blow the safe.

Everyone will hear it.

The exit routes will be jammed with people.

Who dares wins, eh?

It's a bomb! It's a bomb!

For fuck's sake!

What the fuck was that?

Oh, Jesus.

We need to get out of here now.

We have to leave!

Bags, now.

♪ I want you to know that I love you, baby ♪

♪ Want you to know that I care ♪

♪ I'm so happy when you're around me ♪

♪ But I'm sad when you're not there ♪

♪ So tell me, whatcha gonna do about it? ♪

- ♪ Oh, yeah ♪ - ♪ Whatcha gonna do about it? ♪

- ♪ I go crazy ♪ - ♪ Whatcha gonna do about it? ♪

- ♪ You're so nice ♪ - ♪ Whatcha gonna do about it? ♪

♪ I want you to give me your sweet, sweet kisses... ♪

Get back!

Fucking get back!

♪ Whatcha gonna do about it? ♪

♪ Whatcha gonna do about it? ♪

- ♪ Whatcha gonna do about it? ♪ - ♪ Oh, yeah ♪

♪ Whatcha gonna do about it? ♪

♪ Now you hear the music... ♪

What?

♪ I want you to know that I love you, baby ♪

♪ I said this before, but I care ♪

♪ You know that I'm so happy ♪

♪ When you're around me and I'm sad... ♪

Get out of my way!

♪ Whatcha gonna do about it? ♪

Get out of my way!

Die, you evil bastard!

No, don't!

Stop!

Alfie?

Alfie, move!

Come on. Where's my...

It's beautiful.

Yes, we did it, boys. We fucking done it.

Oh, yeah. You fucking done it all right.

- Done it good and proper. - What's your problem?

There's dead civvies back there

and you're all laughing like we done a good job.

Get to fuck. Accidents happen.

As if you never killed a civvy before.

I have. But never in a panic,

with my mask off, in front of a hundred witnesses.

- I've never done that. - Fuck off.

- I didn't panic. - Eh, you kind of did.

- Fuck you, too! - Shut it!

All of you.

Bad things happen in combat. We move on.

Combat, my arse.

We're not soldiers.

We're thieves. Murderers now.

Oh, do stop whimpering, boy.

- I've had enough of it. - Alfie.

Let's go home.

We'll have a brew, eh?

Bye-bye, Alfie.

No worries, Alfie.

We'll be in America before the plods catch Banjo.

- No worries. - Don't be so hard on yourself.

Now, we may be murderers, but we are rich murderers.

- Mum. - Alfie.

I haven't seen you for days. I was worried about you.

Uh, wheeling and dealing, you know.

I've sorted the money.

We can be off to America after all.

Where did you get the money?

Eh, don't worry about that.

Well, how?

Well, it's just business, you know.

It wasn't at the wrestling, was it?

What?

No.

There's people dead.

Yeah.

I heard about that.

Shocking.

No, no, me, no, um, I just closed a nice deal.

Smuggling petrol, if you must know.

Look at me.

Tell me it wasn't you robbed the wrestling

and killed those people.

It wasn't me.

Oh, my God.

Oh, Alfie.

Look, things went wrong.

- It was never my... Oh! - Get out.

- Mum... - Get out!

I don't want to hear it.

I don't want to look at you.

Thank God your dad isn't alive today.

- Now get out! - Look, Mum,

it's a terrible, tragic thing what happened.

Look, I'm ashamed and I am sorry.

But w-we... we have to try and move forward, you know?

This tragedy is all the more reason we have to get

- to America, quick as you can. - For the millionth time,

I am not going to America.

Least of all with a murderous robber.

- Look, Mum, please. - Enough!

You can send Daveboy to fetch your clothes.

Get out.

Hello, Jimmy.

Aren't we having a council meeting?

Postponed.

Oh. Well, good.

I, uh, I wanted to talk to you in private

about this Stormcloud disgrace.

Disgrace?

That's rich coming from you, my friend.

I'm not sure I like that tone in your voice.

Oh, really? Well, that won't do.

I shall be more cheerful, shall I?

- Must keep the old girl happy. - Jimmy.

Perhaps a little, a little dance would please you, hmm?

- Hmm? - For God's sake, Jimmy.

- What's wrong? - I mean, pretty bloody spry

for a mad old cripple.

Your new friend dance as well as I do?

Oh, of course. Sorry, I'm being a bit slow.

Iron deficiency, I suspect.

This is about Aziz.

No, I was going to give you a briefing on that.

A briefing? Good.

Well, then, everything's tickety-boo, isn't it?

I went to speak to him on your behalf.

I thought you'd approve.

Secret meetings with the prime minister

of the English League.

Whispering in dark corners.

And I have to hear this from underlings.

Well, wouldn't you like to hear what he had to say?

No! I damn well do not want to hear what he had to say!

How can I trust what I hear?

How do I know you're not working for him now?

This is absurd.

Do you see what you've done?

If I don't know that I can trust you, then you're no good to me.

And I can't know, not for certain, not now.

Jimmy, you are not yourself.

Have you been taking your medication properly?

Of course you'd go to that. I'm-I'm crazy? I'm-I'm paranoid?

How-how long have we known each other?

All my life.

Exactly.

Is there no one I can trust?

- Am I completely bloody alone? - Jimmy.

You broke my heart, Frances.

You broke my fucking heart.

Guards.

No, don't do this, Jimmy. Jimmy.

Jimmy, this is insane.

I was trying to help you!

Yes, of course, Frances. You're right.

I'm crazy. You were just trying to help me.

Thank you, Frances.

Good evening, Mrs. Troy.

My name is Melanie.

You look tired.

You look pretty good, Melanie.

Considering. Walk into a door?

No.

- I'm sorry. - Don't be.

I detest pity.

Why are you here?

Why do you think?

He hurt you, so you want to hurt him.

Nobody can hurt Gully. He's made of bones.

Mm.

Would you like me to leave?

No.

Tape's rolling. Whenever you're ready.

♪ For you, I was a flame ♪

♪ Love is a losing game ♪

♪ Five-story fire as you came ♪

♪ Love is a losing game ♪

♪ One I wish I never played ♪

♪ Oh, what a mess we made ♪

♪ And now the final frame ♪

♪ Love is a losing game ♪

♪ Played out by the band ♪

♪ Love is a losing hand ♪

♪ More than I could stand ♪

♪ Love is a losing hand ♪

♪ Self-professed, profound ♪

♪ Till the chips were down ♪

♪ Though you're a gambling man ♪

♪ Love is a losing hand ♪

♪ Though I battle blind ♪

♪ Love is a fate resigned ♪

♪ Memories mar my mind ♪

♪ Love, it is a fate resigned ♪

♪ Over futile odds ♪

♪ And laughed at by the gods ♪

♪ And now the final frame ♪

♪ Love is a losing game. ♪

You remember that night raid

in the Sulawesi channel?

Aye. I remember.

A full moon.

Clear as day.

You went in first.

Buggers all dug in at the tree line.

Yeah.

Got us out of a tight spot.

You're a damn good soldier, Banjo.

There were little turtles on the beach.

Hundreds of them.

Turtles, you say?

Really?

I don't remember that.

It was that quiet at first,

before the gunfire.

You could hear them all making for the water.

Thousands of little flippers in the sand.

Captioned by Media Access Group at WGBH access.wgbh.org