All language subtitles for The.Marvelous.Mrs_.Maisel.S04E03.1080p.WEB_.h264-GOSSIP

One less angel in heaven, baby!

The guy at table six
took his dick out again.

Table six
took his dick out!

Table six
took his dick out!

- Motherfucker!
- Trixie's down!

Trixie, you okay?
Hey, Jerry!

That was the sweet,
saintly Philomena.

Heavenly, wouldn't you say?

Motherfuck,
my fucking head!

And that was Philomena's
foulmouthed friend,

- Philadelphia.
- Take it off!

Sweet thought,
but I think I'll keep it on.

- Take it off!
- Take it off!

- Take it off!
- We're not kidding!

Guys, hear me.
By the time I finish

unzipping,
unfastening and unhooking

the medieval contraption
of rayon and rubber

that is my girdle, you'll all be
back in bed with your wives

telling them
how much you hated working late.

-
- Well, you didn't say

you were gonna throw an oily,
crumpled dollar bill at me.

Now it's coming off.

- Maisel!
- Oops, no time.

Uh, but hold on
to your Great Gatsbys, guys,

'cause here comes our salute
to the Roaring '20s.

But first,
Sapphira, Lonely Harem Girl.

- What the hell?
- I didn't know.

No one knows shit around here.

Three, four.

Boise, what happened
to the Roaring '20s?

Trixie got beaned by the wire.

- I saw. I heard.
- So we went with Harem Girl.

- Without telling me.
- You were onstage.

Getting the crowd excited
for a sexy flapper.

- We confused them.
- Look, as long as some girl's

out there shaking her chichis,
those guys don't care

- how the fuck they're dressed.
- I disagree.

With Sapphira the Harem Girl,
they're anticipating

sultry, mysterious chichis,

not the bippity-boppity chichis
of the Roaring '20s girl.

Look, no one's confused

'cause no one's
hardly listening to you.

- I take offense at that.
- You all do.

Can do better than this, Boise.

Talk to Clifford.
He signs the checks.

- Ooh!
- Excusez-moi.

Hey, everyone.
Uh, Boise's not so great

at formal introductions,
so I wanted to introduce myself.

Hi. I'm Midge.

Mrs. Maisel. I'm the new MC

here at the Wolf,

so any of you want to add a dash
of humor to your routines,

consider me
your comedy consultant.

Okay, well...

As you were.

Ooh! Sorry.

Come on, six. Come on, six.

Oh! The hard way!

- Let's go again. Come on.
- Raking it in.

- Yes.
- Damn.

Clifford.

- Cup of coffee for you.
- On a hot one tonight!

- I know you like one
right around now.
- Oh.

Come on,
dice! Dice...

Smells fresh.

- Crap!
- It's supposed to.

So, I would love to suggest
some small improvements

that I think would make the club
all that it can be.

Yeah, uh...

A better system for announcing
the acts would be great.

Plus, there are
a lot of avoidable injuries.

Maybe we should have
a safety meeting.

- Uh...
- In the Catskills,

I was frequently voted
safety monitor

for various activities:
water sports, backpacking.

We were hiking once,
and the rabbi

thought for sure
he got bit by a snake.

I sucked on that man
till he almost passed out.

On his ankle, that is.

Turned out to just be
a couple of mosquito bites,

but people sure got a laugh
out of it.

- Mm-hmm.
- Anyway, have a...

have a... think on that.

And...

That's a safety risk, too.

Fucking angel.

Let me bum one.

Did you hear
what happened out there?

Flapper got her head smashed in.

Heard the cursing.
Sounded kind of funny.

Wasn't funny. It's sloppy.

This place
has a lot of work to do.

It's a strip club.
As long as a girl's up there

shaking her chichis,
none of it matters.

Maisel!

Sapphira's wrapping up.

- See you tomorrow.
- See you tomorrow.

- Who's next?
- Annie Oakley.

- Thank you.
- Or Brenda the Bird Girl.

- Take it off!
- Hey, there. You miss me?

Take it off!

Chester, you left
the fucking door open again.

How many times do I got to...

Is this something icky?

- You must be Susie.
- Yeah.

I'm Nancy. Jackie's sister.

- Oh. Well, he's...
- Dead.

He's dead.

I'm sorry, what?

A stroke
sometime this afternoon.

A stroke?

I was actually
at his bedside before he passed.

He was still talking.

Yeah, he likes to talk.

His final words
were actually for you.

For me?

I wrote them down
so I wouldn't forget.

"Susie,

the guys are coming
to sand the floor at noon.

Be there to let them in.

They're flaky,
so fuck knows if they'll show.

Remember, Monday's a holiday,

so don't put the garbage out
Sunday night.

We already got one ticket
from the city.

If you're going to make
spaghetti sauce,

push the curtains back,
because you splash a lot,

and you can't get sauce

out of that fabric.
It's just too delicate."

Plastic.

The modern miracle.

And, ladies, these are some
of the finest plastic products

- on the household market.
- They sure are.

There's so much to choose from.

There's
so many convenient sizes,

so many vivid colors.

And you are going
to want it all.

This is the Wonderlier.

That's such a cute name.
I love that name.

And for sizable suppers,

the large Wonderlier.

Well, I have to have
two of everything now.

It's just so good! Sign me up.

Uh, pass the Wonderliers around,

ladies,
and I will be right back.

Oh, ladies,
do I have a story for you.

- I know a girl...
- You'd have less need
for Tupperware

if you weren't just cooking
for one.

- Can we set up a lunch?
- Uh, Mama,

Jean here is missing out
on the demonstration.

Why don't you get back
to the group, Jean.

Miriam,
I'm trying to make a sale here.

And so am I. Beat it.

She's making dinner,

and in comes a burglar
with a gun.

She screams, he shoots,

and the Tupperware she
was holding stops the bullet.

I mean,
they don't even mention that

- in the literature.
- Imogene.

Dial it down, woman.

Midge, do you want to make
some sales or not?

Yes.
Showing them how to burp

a two-quart
is not going to move product,

and you are here
to move product.

Now sell.

Ladies, I think it's time
to get those order forms out.

And when that is done,
I will announce the winner

of the silliest Tupperware hat.

Oh, my God.

What? Are you okay?

Uh...

Everyone, uh, please excuse me.

- Imogene?
- I got it.

Let's drop the bullshit, ladies,

and make some deals.

You need to eat.

- Mm-hmm.
- This hot plate is no good.

I don't think
all this is gonna fit.

- How's that sandwich?
- Great.

Hot here, cold here.

Okay,
we're officially out of room.

What? No.
The pudding has to go in there.

- Don't think so.
- Oh, strudel.

Okay, we can freeze the chicken.

- Where's the freezer?
- Up there.

What is this place, the gulag?

Oh, I made Zelda mad.

- I didn't know
you could make Zelda mad.
- Trade you.

All the lady magazines say
you should defrost once a month.

- This is crazy.
- Mmm, good coffee.

- Oh, you've got ants.
- You should've called me.

I called you.

I mean the minute you found out.

I don't want you sitting
in a dark apartment,

drinking for hours by yourself
at a time like this.

- I'm here.
- Now you're mad

- just like Zelda.
- I'm not mad.

Jackie's dead.

I know, honey.

Really?

He was here all alone, then bam.

Old Gianni upstairs
said he heard a thud.

Called the cops.
They load him in the car,

and they took him to Bellevue,
and by 9:00, that was it.

- He's gone.
- Well, he wasn't sick.

He didn't suffer.
We should be grateful for that.

It was the chili dogs.

I warned him
about those chili dogs.

Fucking guy
subsisted on chili dogs.

- The ice wins.
We have to eat it all now.
- When's the service?

- Don't know.
- - Well, how can I get ahold

- of his sister?
- Don't know.

- Did she leave a card?
- No.

Maybe she wrote something down?

You have one fork?

She didn't write anything down.

I don't know
where the funeral is.

I don't know where the sister is
or who the sister is.

I just know that last night,
when I wasn't here,

the biggest pain in my ass ever

dropped the fuck dead
in my apartment!

Forks.

I'm sorry.

I'm sorry, too.

I don't want to stay
in this apartment.

Somebody died here. It's creepy.

Mm,
it's not the first time.

Huh?

There's been a lot of deaths
in this room.

What?

I researched
the apartment's history

- at the municipal archives
before I moved in.
- Why?

Because that's
the first thing you do

before you move
into an apartment.

- No, it's not.
- - There was a decapitation.

A woman was eaten alive
by maggots.

Identical twins
were disemboweled to music.

A pipe exploded,
drowning an entire family.

Then there's the crib deaths.

Chester. Just eat your eggs.

Hey.

Four choking deaths
right in this corner.

Maybe don't rush me.

I hope it's enough.

Mr. Moishe likes squash.

Ah, I didn't make enough squash.

I will skip the squash
so there's squash for Moishe.

It's so nice
that we're all together again.

Oh, Zelda, no.
You've been crying for two days.

So, I figured
only Moishe-y knew him.

You must've encountered
him at some point, Moishe.

We know his family
from the Catskills.

I know
the parents a little.

And the grandfather.
Saw him in the shower once

after racquetball. Wrinkliest
nutsack I've ever seen.

And he's seen some beauts.

- Oh, dear.
- We're talking
about the bar mitzvah boy?

- Akiva?
- Mm-hmm. Moishe was asked
to do an aliyah at his service,

- and he swears he's never met him.
- - And it's a short list

of people you pick to do
an aliyah at your bar mitzvah.

You'd think you'd pick someone
that knows who the fuck you are.

Well, it's nice
just to be wanted by someone.

Anyone.

Our house is so empty now.

Abe and I will visit soon,
Shirley. I promise.

Tuesday?

I don't know about Tuesday.

Wednesday? I'll make my cabbage.

It'll be soon. You have my word.

Your word is fairly meaningless,
Rose. You know it, I know it.

- So let's set a date.
- Hello!

- The youth have returned.
- Ethan!

Come here. Grandpa's
got to pick your brain.

- Saw Abe coming up behind me.
- His hours are

- so unpredictable these days.
- Wow, look at this place.

It's all back together.

This is new.
The old one was chipped.

I remember
when Ethan chipped it.

Akiva Bergman.
It doesn't ring a bell,

- huh?
- No.

- Don't rush. Think, think.
- I've got

dinner for you and Esther
in the kitchen, Ethan.

- Say good night.
- Good night.

- Good night.
- - Maybe you bought the kid

an ice cream once, huh?
You know, and it was so special.

It really meant something.

I don't go around
the Catskills buying ice cream

for little boys I don't know.

There's plenty of those guys
crawling around up there,

- you know what I'm saying?
- No.

- What are you saying?
- - You remember Daniel Sandberg?

With the Coke-bottle glasses?

I do.
He'd drive up with his mother.

Called him Danny Deep-Pockets.

Went around asking boys to dig
in his pants for candy corn.

I knew nothing about this.

Then there was Tom
from Buffalo

- with the girly bangs.
- They called him
Tommy Touch-Butt.

You're making this up.

Uh, Moishe, Shirley,
you remember Susie?

- From Yom Kippur?
- Hello.
- Hi.

What's going on?

- A guy died.
- Oh, my God.

- Who? Your husband?
- Uh, her roommate.

Jackie from the Gaslight.

Shit. I knew him. What happened?

I just told you.
He fucking died.

Right. Sorry.

So did a lot of people
in my apartment.

Chester's got a list.

Cheeky Chester?

Abe. Just in time to eat.

Did you not see me behind you?

- Yeah, but...
- Let's eat, everyone.
- Yeah.

- Before it gets cold.
- Oh, yeah.
- I had to stand there

and watch the elevator
take you up to the ninth floor,

stop, come back down.

Then I had to get on,
take it back up.

That's 27 floors.

You'll survive, Papa.
It's family style, everyone.

Forget your manners and dive in.

Well, good thing I made it,

because I have a fun piece
of news for everyone.

Oh, let's hear it.

I've been... I've...

I've been assigned...

- Why is Zelda crying?
- I didn't make enough squash,

- and I'm just so happy.
- We're good

from here, Zelda.
Why don't you take a break.

So, the Village Voice
has assigned me,

its chief theater critic,

to review a new Broadway musical

by our own Buzz Goldberg.

- My God.
- Buzz has a show?

- Like, a real show?
- Yeah.

That musical he's been
workshopping at Steiner

for, what, eight years now?

It's a real success story.
Did very well in New Haven.

Has a lot of good buzz,
pardon the pun.

- Ha! Good one.
- And there's
an opening night ticket

for each and every one of you.

- Opening night.
- Fun.

Abe, what a score.

I already don't have
anything to wear.

I'm so proud of Buzz.
He never gave up on the show.

- We must have seen it at the resort about 20 times.
- - Mm.

And that song. You can't
get it out of your head.

You were in a version
of Buzz's show one year,

weren't you, Miriam?
Up at Steiner?

I played Clare Landsburg
in the summer of 1953.

And he dropped you, right?

No. I wasn't dropped.

I did the show for a while,

and it went very well,
and then I made way

for another lucky young lady
to play the role.

I thought he dropped you
because you can't sing or act.

Or dance.
That's how I remember it.

You couldn't sing
or act or dance.

Please, people.
She's no Judy Garland,

but she gave it her best shot.

Right. No, I'm not Judy Garland,

but who is?
Besides Judy Garland.

And you froze that one time.
Remember?

You came out on stage.
You couldn't remember your line.

One time, Shirley.
I froze one time.

I'd seen the show so much
that I knew the line.

Everybody did. The whole room
was yelling out the line.

I wasn't fired
from the show. Okay?

Is this all the squash?

Oh, and, Joel,

regardless
of the elevator incident,

I'm not leaving you out. There's
a ticket for you, as well.

Two, actually,
if you'd like to bring a friend.

Yeah, Joel. Bring a friend.

Archie or may... be
someone else.

There is no one else.
One ticket will suffice, Abe.

You know, Joel,
I still consider you

a family member,
and it seems a shame

- that you're alone.
- - There was a perfectly good girl

I set him up with last week.
Lena Brofmann.

It was a boy, by the way.

Wow. You work quick.

Excuse me, Ma,
for not wanting to go out

with a pregnant divorced woman.

She's not divorced.
Her husband died.

- Everyone dies.
- Can we change

- the subject?
- - Shirley, I'm disappointed.

You have
a matchmaking professional

in the family,
after all. Use me.

- My God, you're right.
- It says call
for an appointment,

but there's no appointment
necessary for you.

No, please don't give her
your card, Rose.

It doesn't matter. I know
her name. I know her number.

Rose, change your name.
Change your number.

What's Joel's type?

- I know Miriam was his type,
but what else?
- Moishe,

- if you're going to do
an aliyah, do it right.
- He likes an athletic girl.

- Oh, athletic girl.
- That's interesting.

You're gonna correct
the next one?

- Oh, how sweet.
- Little Molly?

How about 63 years
as a devout Jew?

- Stickball player.
- Stickball?

Oh, I'm gonna write that down.

An athletic,
stickball-playing type?

Anything I can do
to make you stop?

Rose?
Is my bathrobe in the bathroom?

Rose?

Rose!

What, Abe?

I thought you were looking
for my bathrobe.

No, Abe,
I'm getting ready for bed.

Are you
seeing this?

- I'm, uh, picking up...
- Rose.

No,
your bathrobe is not in here.

- Well, then, where is it?
- - It's where you left it last.

You look terrible,
by the way.

Thank you, Groucho.

I'm not laughing.
This-this isn't a bit.

This is more
like a national emergency.

Well, you look fantastic.

Trim and rested.
What's your secret?

I'm 28.

- Here.
- No, seriously,

you look the same as you did
in the pictures I grew up on

a long time ago.
How do you do it?

Spending my golden years
with the wife.

How long you two been married?

Oh, I wasn't talking
about my wife.

Both of Groucho's parents
are dead.

Maybe you should get some sleep.

- Can't sleep.
- You want a little something?

- My mother has some pills.
- Oh, I know.

I've been
through your mom's pills.

She's got a lot of them.

She has three different places
she hides them,

in case you're wondering
why that woman has a sewing kit.

Found Jackie's sister,
by the way.

She asked me
if I would speak at the service.

What did you say?

I was trapped, so I said yes.
What am I gonna say, no?

You sure you're up for that?

Try not to fuck it up too badly.

Who got you hooked
on cigars, Groucho?

Well, who else? Chico.

- Chico smokes cigars?
- Get some sleep.

- Leave your beer.
- - There's not a lot Chico doesn't do except read.

He's a pretty big
gambler, your brother.

If you enjoy
understatements.

Any idea
how much he's lost?

Chico always says
if you add up all the money

Harpo has,
that's how much I've lost.

Eat fast, Ethan. We've got
a big, fun day planned.

- Okay.
- Does this necklace work?

- If you have to ask...
- Changing the necklace.

Mama, can I borrow
your banana pin?

It's in my jewelry box.

But if you're gonna do bananas
on your dress,

change your cherry earrings.
Too much fruit seems lazy.

Good morning, Susie.

Ethan Ramone Maisel,
move your tuchus.

- I mean it. We cannot be late.
- That's right, Ethan.

You can't be late
for the doctor.

Oh. Mama, we don't tell him
he's going to the doctor.

We tell him he's going
on a fun subway adventure.

Well, the cat's
out of the bag now.

- I hate the doctor!
- Come on, Esther.

Let's go talk your brother
off that ledge.

- Morning, Susie.
- - The doctor's the worst!

I got a blintz.

You're going to
make your sister...

- Leave me alone!
- Stop running around.
No running.

No running.

I don't want
to go to the doctor!

Okay, look, I need one of you
to stay with her.

- What?
- There's no way I can take her
to the pediatrician's

with all her talk
about people dropping dead.

Well, I certainly can't take her
to the Village Voice.

I'm still new there.
I might get a nickname today.

- No.
- Fine.

We'll do rock paper scissors.
Ready?

One, two, three.

- Maisel residence.
- Who won?

One moment, please.
It's for you, Miss Susie.

...behavior
of the United States...

I hate the doctor!

Hello?

Hey, Susie, it's J.J.
You hear about Jackie?

Yeah, I fucking heard
about Jackie.

I was living with him, moron.

Well, he left some boxes here.

Boxes of what?

I don't know. Stuff? Junk?
I don't know.

What do you want me to do?

I don't know. You want me
to dump 'em? I don't care.

Don't dump 'em.
I'll come by sometime this week.

Okay, but they're
taking up space.

- Yeah, so are you.
- Hey, you looking

for a new roommate?

I'm gonna watch TV.

Guys,
it's rock paper scissors.

Each thing beats something else.

It's a kid's game
for God's sake.

But what if I chose heat?

- Heat would melt the scissors.
- And burn the paper.

So heat would beat
everything but rock.

Heat is not an option.

Water would rust the scissors
and ruin the paper.

Are the scissors brass or steel?

How about we just
flip a coin, hmm?

And your hobbies are knitting,
needlepoint, and weaving?

I own my own loom.

All right. Well, we'll put
that into column two.

Remember, we discussed this?
The after-marriage revelations?

Mm-mm.

I promise you, Amelia, we will
find you the perfect mate.

You think so?

I do.

I really do.

Because every time I meet a man,
I never know what to say.

It doesn't matter what you say.

The man's not listening
to you anyhow.

- Rose!
- Yes, Susie?

- My page is full.
- Well, then turn it over.

- Both sides.
- What about the other pages?

- All full.
- Then we will get you
more paper.

All right, Amelia.
Tell your mother

the meeting went well, and
the address to send the check

- is on the back of the card.
- Okay.

Thank you.

I'm very excited.

Good? Was it good?

Very good.
I need to use the restroom.

Susie? Tinkle time.

- I already went.
- Rose?

You'll have to delay
your break for a bit.

- You have a walk-in.
- Another one?

Another two!

Word of your prowess is
spreading like melancholia.

My goodness,
it's all happening so fast.

It's thrilling.
You already have

three confirmed kills
this month.

Three matches,
three engagements.

So much goddamn happiness.

Contain yourself.
We're in a tea room.

People are steeping.

- Rose!
- What?

I'm bored. I'm hungry.
I want to leave.

I'm working, Susie.

We will leave when I'm done.

Ugh! Hate this!

Get her some more paper,
will you?

Of course. Question:
why is she here?

A gentleman passed away
in her apartment.

And she can't go back.

Oh. Is he blocking
the door, or...?

I don't know. Go get
the next person signed in?

Yes. Of course.

Mirabelle,
you're up next.

She's getting your paper.

You're a matchmaker, huh?

- That's right.
- You really think
there's someone out there

for that gorgon that just left?

- Yes.
- She's got a hunchback.

- I can fix that.
- Really?
You gonna blind the guy?

Susie! This is a business.

Now you are my daughter's
manager and a plumber

before that, so you should
understand business.

I will send the gorgon
to my hairstylist,

and she will fix her hair.

And I will teach her
about foundation

and mascara and lipstick
and deodorant,

and we will get her a girdle,
and she will sit up straight,

and we'll destroy her loom,
and she will have a husband.

Because there is someone
out there for everyone.

What are you looking at me for?

What's this?

I ordered it for you.

For me? The whole thing?

- Yes.
- And it's just whipped cream?

And a spoon.

And I can just eat it? It
doesn't have to go on anything?

That's right.

Rose Weissman,
I would follow you into hell.

- That won't be necessary.
- Oh, hello.

Yikes.

- Susie!
- Sorry.

You must be Mirabelle. I'm Rose.

What a lovely dress.

What can I do for you?

Ma, there's sweat
running down your neck.

- Let it go.
- It's opening night.

Why would I not wear my best?

It's 80 degrees out.
You're gonna melt.

- Let it go.
- I want to be
buried in this coat.

- That may happen tonight.
- Let it go.

There they are.

Follow me, everybody.

Mr. Weissman. Welcome.

I'm Gerald, the house manager.
Your tickets, sir.

Thank you. Do you like my cape?

It's very natty.

Ma'am, would you like
to check your...

Let her wear it.

Anything else you need,
let me know.

Okay, looks like we have
five in the orchestra

and two in the mezzanine.
Here you go.

We're sitting together?

- Away from you guys?
- Yep.

- No, no.
- Oh, hey.

- Is there...? No.
- No, no.

- No, no.
- Can we...? I, I, I...

- I would love to maybe switch?
- No.

- Or maybe I can sit with Midge?
- I want to sit with Midge.

Yes? Midge?
Yes? Yes? Midge? Yes?

Well, the five are
fifth row center, so...

Damn.

That's our cue, everybody.
Let's go in.

A drink for you, sir?

Are my feet on the ground?

Oh, I want to see it again
and again and again and again.

And that song
with the full orchestra, yowza!

Oh, there he is.
There's our Buzz.

Ah, that is a very
big smile on that boy's face.

Well, he's earned it.

I remember
a couple of summers ago,

it was the cutest thing.

Buzz came up to me and said...
Kitty Carlisle Hart!

- Who?
- What's that?
- It's Kitty Carlisle Hart!

From To Tell The Truth.

Oh, it's my favorite game show!

Kitty! Kitty!

Go get 'em, tiger!

Wait! Wait, wait,
Kitty! Kitty!

- Her?
- Kitty, wait, wait!

- Her?
- Do you find her attractive?

Rose, please don't feel
the need to...

Oops. Never mind. Didn't see
the mole till she turned.

Would you find her attractive
without the mole?

I made two rounds of the place.
No sign of Susie.

Good. Three songs in,
she pulled out a bag of Cheetos

and told everyone who shushed
her they'll be dead someday.

It's good she's gone.

There they are.
The ones that got away.

- Hi, Pauly.
- Hello, stranger.

How are you, Pauly?

Brokenhearted without you
at the resort this year.

Maybe next year.

How about our boy, huh?

He had such big dreams,
but who knows from dreams.

"A dreamer is one who can
only find his way by moonlight."

- Oscar Wilde.
- And now look at me,

a bigshot financial investor
in Buzz's dreams.

Pauly, you macher!

It's a small slice, but the
thing is, you hear that song,

you take out your wallet.

- Uh-huh.
- Miriam Maisel!

- Look at you, all dolled up.
- Hello, Edie. Good to see you.

I was just talking to someone.

You were the star of this show
one year, weren't you?

- Up at Steiner?
- Clare Landsburg,

summer of '53, at your service.

Then you got dumped, right?

No, Edie.

I wasn't dumped.

Fired, whatever you want
to call it.

It was just a fun vacation thing
I did one year.

That's all.
I'm not an actress.

Oh, you don't have to tell me.
I was there.

It's really good
to see you, Edie.

- Hello. Love that hat.
- Oh, hi!

That Kitty Carlisle Hart,
she's like Houdini!

I cornered her in a stall
in the bathroom.

But when I kicked the door open,
she wasn't there.

But I got her shoe.
Everyone look for a limper.

Abe, he's free.

Oh, let's grab him while we can.

There he is.

Buzz, dear,
we are so proud of you.

Oh! I loved everything about it.

Oh, but that one character,
Iris.

I mean, I hated her,
but I loved her, too.

Oh, thank you, Mrs. Weissman.

Uh, Abe, you didn't bring
your press hat.

It clashed with my cape.

Fun, right?

It's amazing.

I knew you
when you were a pisher.

The kid who fell
into the lake on day one,

holding a live mic.

I like making a big entrance.

Are you happy, Buzz? Be happy.

I am.
It's the best night of my life.

Hello, everyone.
Uh, can you hear me okay?

- Yes!
- Yes? Very good.

Thank you all
for coming tonight.

For supporting our show.

It means the world to us.

But let me bring the true

star of the night
up here to speak.

The man who wrote the music,
the lyrics, the book...

My friend, and yours,
Buzz Goldberg!

Oh, thanks.
Uh, thanks, everyone.

Ooh, it's a big night, um...

I haven't breathed
since the curtain came up.

Just breathe, Buzz, breathe.

Um, thank you, Myron,

for guiding the ship
and teaching me so much.

And to our director,
Mr. George Abbott,

I think you have a future
in this business, sir.

And to my dramaturg

and roommate, Kevin,
I owe you everything.

Thank you, Kevin.

And to the people
who inspired me so much,

who inspired this show,

my Steiner Resort family because

you are just that... family.

Steiner!

Steiner! Steiner!

We're finer, finer!

Finer!

Steiner! Steiner...

I need to go.
My deadline's tonight.

Go, go. We'll see you at home.

Finer! Finer! Finer!

Steiner!

Two guitars.

Jackie would've hated that.

Hey.

- You going to the opera
or something?
- Just get me Jackie's boxes.

There's a couple others.

This fell out of one of 'em.

"Jacopo Dellapietra"?

Jackie was in the Army?

Don't know.

A Bronze Star?

Some kind of medal.

Who's Darla?

Abe Weissman, stop right there.

Give me a 360.

A cape is not an easy thing
to pull off, my friend.

I make it look easy.

- You ready to work?
- Oh, yes, I am.

Sorry about the tight deadline.

It's the way
it happens sometimes.

Oh, I thrive on deadlines.

I'll be downstairs
if you need me.

You bet.

Got it!

What is this?

My review.

"They Came, They Danced
opened last night

at the Mark Hellinger Theatre.

Your mother might like it."

- I can't publish this.
- Why not?

Well, for one, it's supposed
to be a thousand-word review

and it's about a thousand
words short.

I could add some adjectives.

Abe, I need specifics.

Specifics?

If you think someone's mother
would like the show,

then tell me
why you think someone's mother

would like the show.
Do I really need

- to tell you this?
- No, I know.

But in this case,
I would really rather not...

get into all that.

- I'm sorry?
- Yeah.

I just don't think specifics
are what people need.

Or want.

I don't know if you've ever done
any research on this,

but I-I-I think
I'm right about this.

Yeah.

Abe...

Okay, Gabe, here it is!

The show was terrible, okay?
Terrible!

I mean, a-a travesty.

- Okay...
- They took a cute,

charming musical,
conceived in the Catskills,

cast with a fun group
of resort guests,

all of whom were good,
except my daughter,

and turned it into a bland,

cynical, bloated

three-hour piece
of contrived inanity!

The costumes... terrible.

The sets... terrible.

The script... terrible.
It's got one song.

- One song?
- That they reprise

five different times,
because they know

they only have one good song.

They're duping
the audience, Gabe!

And that kills me.

Great! Write that down.

We've known this kid ten years.

I watched him fall into a lake.

I pulled him out.

Maybe you shouldn't have.

Dark thought, I know.

Okay, Abe, how about this?
Skip the specifics.

Use the show to get
to the big picture...

Your thoughts
on everything that's wrong

in the theater today.

Get angry. Be personal.

That's why we hired you, Abe.

For your voice.

Don't let them get duped.

- You okay?
- Yeah.

I just, you know, maybe I
should've worn something else.

- Like what?
- I don't know.

Like a dress.

I don't... I can't...
I'm trying to picture...

- Have you ever worn a dress?
- Of course I've worn a dress.

- I was a baby once.
- Okay.

- You know, helpless.
- Sorry.

I was fucking adorable
in a dress.

This way, I guess.

- Did you get the time wrong?
- I did not get the time wrong.

'Cause you have
a problem with time.

I did not get the time wrong.

Susie, thank you for coming.

Oh, yeah, sure.
Uh, Nancy, this is...

You must be Miriam.
The comedian?

Yes. I'm so sorry about Jackie.

I'm really gonna miss him.

You know, he sent me clippings
about you all the time.

He was very proud.

Oh, well...

that's really sweet.

- I saved you both seats, but...
- Where is everyone?

Oh, well, I sent the word out.
I went through his phone book,

and the monsignor made
some calls.

Just didn't get much
of a response.

Oh, excuse me.

He saved my clippings.

Chester.

Chester!

What the fuck?

They have onion sandwiches.

Sit.

And don't breathe out.

I didn't think
Jackie thought I was funny.

Well, it's past 3:00 now,

so we should
probably get started.

- I'm keeping this.
- Welcome, everyone.

I want to thank you all
for coming out today

to say goodbye
to one of our favorite sons,

Jacopo "Jackie" Dellapietra.

I'm Monsignor Armanno Ricci

of the Church
of the Sacred Heart of Jesus,

the church that Jackie

was so active in
all of his life.

He went to church?

I've known Jackie
since he was a little boy,

and, well, I would be lying
if I said we didn't find a need

to keep a tight lock
on the altar wine.

Many a morning,

we found
that the blood of Christ

had been replaced
with Dr Pepper.

He was also the first one
to lend a hand.

Now, I can't prove
that he was the one

who built the new platform
for the manger scene

when the old one
got destroyed by vandals,

but I'll bet it was him.

Lots of little stories
about Jackie I could share,

but I think I'm going
to turn the podium over

to someone
who's very special to him.

Someone he always referred to
as one of his closest friends.

Susie?

That's you.

No, he said
one of his closest friends.

Well, unless another Susie
just walked in...

Hey. Tits up.

Uh, hi.

Guess I'm Susie.

And, um,

Nancy asked me to talk,

so...

Fuck this.

Follow me.

Who is that?

Hi.

Sorry.
I'll just be a minute here.

Supposed to say a few words
about Jackie Dellapietra,

who's over there across the hall

in the empty loser room.

But, well, I just...

I can't talk about him
to an empty room.

That's not how it should go.

That's not
how he should be remembered.

Or not remembered.
'Cause apparently,

no one remembered,
because nobody showed up.

Except four people.

Four people to send you off.

Where the fuck was everyone?

A man dies, you show up
at his funeral, right?

This was Jackie.

Mean, he never hurt anyone.

He just... He lived his life.
He did nice things.

He fixed up my shitty apartment.
Put up curtains.

He painted. He made stew.

He built whatever the hell
it was he built

for the fucking monsignor
over there.

Apparently, no one gave a shit.

No one noticed.

Fuck, I lived with the guy,
and I didn't notice.

We slept very close.

I mean, I knew personal things
about the guy.

You know, he snores.

Yeah, certain foods
did not agree with him.

You kept the windows open
on those nights.

I knew his laundry day.

I knew when he cut his hair.
Shit like that.

But I never knew him.

Yeah, I never knew
he fought in the war.

I never knew

he got a medal for bravery.

I mean,
they don't just hand those out.

You got to get shot
or-or save somebody

or blow up a fucking tank.

A medal is a big deal!

He collected Bazooka Joe comics.

He kept the little ticket stubs

to the opera.

He had a baseball
signed by Babe Ruth.

Can you fucking believe that?

Jackie met Babe Ruth.

And he kept it in a shoebox
like an asshole,

but he had it.

I mean, this guy lived a life,

and I never knew any of this.

I mean, it was just a minute ago
I found out I was his friend.

No, I'm sorry,
one of his closest friends.

I had a close friend,
and I never knew it.

And where the fuck is Darla?

Hmm?

She couldn't take off
one afternoon

to come and pay her respects

to a man she wrote
51 fucking idiotic letters to?

A heart over every "I."

What's so important
she couldn't take the time off

to come and give this man
a proper send-off?

She better be dead.

You know
what I really don't understand?

How is it a decent guy,
a guy who worked his ass off

his entire life...

How is it he could barely afford

to sublet the corner
of my shithole apartment?

I mean, he never caught a break.

He never got ahead.

How fucked-up is that?

All these fucking horrible
assholes in the world

that just get shit
handed to them.

And this guy fought in a war.
He traveled.

He... Oh,
he won a Lindy contest.

I didn't know
Jackie could dance.

Half the time, it didn't seem
like he could walk.

But there is
a first-place ribbon

sitting in this fucking
weather-beaten, rat-eaten,

fucked-up, little box
that he shoved in a corner.

A man's life. In a shitty box.

A really good man's life.

You know,
a man who deserved something,

and he wound up
sprinkling sawdust

on vomit at the Gaslight.

Well, this can't continue, okay?

I cannot stand by

and watch this happen
to another poor slob,

so I am dedicating the rest
of my miserable fucking life

to finding
the Jackies of the world.

The ones you walk by.
The ones you don't see.

The ones
who never catch a break.

And I'm gonna make sure
that they never, ever end up

in my fucking apartment!

Oh, and I'm really sorry
about this lady.

I'm sure she was very nice, too.

- Boise. How are you?
- Busy.

- Are things gonna go smoother tonight?
- - Hope so.

There'll be a more accurate
run-of-show list?

Maybe Philomena's
wire contraption

- won't cause
any major head injuries.
- Run of show?

- Yeah.
- Sexy Angel. Sexy Soviet Spy.

- Sexy Angel. Sexy Spy.
- Roaring '20s. Pouty Poet.

- Roaring '20s.
Pouty... Pouty what?
- Cleopatra. Harem Girl.

- Harem Girl. Slow down.
- Sexy Nurse.
Cancan Mademoiselle.

- Sexy something.
Cancan Mademoiselle.
- Rising Venus.

- Rosie the Riveter.
- You didn't make a list, huh?

- Sailor Girl. China Doll.
Sleeping Beauty.
- Rosie Doll.

Sailor Girl.
Boise, Boise, Boise,

I can't memorize all that.
Write it down for me.

I thought I recognized
that unique combination

of lilt and intensity.

What the hell
are you doing here?

Oh, well,
I hate to steal your line,

but what the hell
are you doing here?

You have to leave.
I'm about to go on.

Oh, shit. Are you stripping now?

I knew the Shy Baldwin thing
was tough,

- but there's nicer places.
- I'm the comic.

- Here?
- Yes. And I'm about to go on.

And I'm still honing
and experimenting, so go away.

- You want me to go away?
- Yes.

Because
I would make you nervous.

You would make me nervous.

Don't smile. Bad smile.

I got a story for you.
Back in high school...

Mepham High in Bellmore,
out on Long Island...

I took this speech class.

One day,
the teacher stands me up

in front of everybody
and gives me a topic.

Zoos. Are they good or bad?
Some shit like that.

I was supposed to be
against them.

Told me to take five full
minutes to make my case. Now,

I'm feeling fairly confident
about the subject,

so I start my little spiel,

going on about how animals
shouldn't be in cages

and how we're the real animals

for putting them there
in the first place...

- Mm-hmm.
- When all of a sudden,

I get beaned in the head
by an eraser.

I check to see who threw it,
and it was the fucking teacher.

Now, I'm surprised,
to say the least,

but I continue my little speech
with a masterful segue

into the science of evolution
and how we're no less animal

than any other
of God's creatures...

That is, if God exists;
I threw that in...

When another fucking eraser
hits me in the fucking head.

And it's like that
every ten seconds

for the rest of my speech.

Something coming at my head.
Erasers, chalk,

crumpled paper,
a half-eaten apple.

But I soldier on and get through
the five minutes.

Afterwards, I ask my teacher,
"What was that all about?"

And she says, "Mr. Schneider."

For I was Schneider at the time.

"Mr. Schneider,
I was simply training you

to block out distractions.

It's your job to stay focused

despite whatever's coming
at you, and you did good."

This seemed like bullshit
at the time,

but it turned out to be
a very valuable lesson.

It trained me for what I do now.

So, tonight, Mrs. Maisel,

your version of erasers
and chalk and half-eaten apples

will be me staying for your gig.

No. This isn't Bellmore.

Everything is Bellmore.

Mrs. Maisel.
Time to start the show.

I think it's time
to start the show.

Fine. Stay. But do not sit
where I can see you.

Oh, now I'm definitely gonna sit

where you can see me.

Shit.

Mrs. Maisel!

All right!

- Hello.
- Hello there,

not many ladies
and many gentlemen.

I'm Mrs. Maisel, your host
and guide for the evening.

Bravo.

This is a very weird job I have.
I'm a woman

who comes out here
to make men laugh

who are here to see women
take their clothes off.

Easier job for a man.

Yeah!

And a tricky balancing act
for me.

But not as tricky an act
as Sandy,

our stripping contortionist,

who uses
a common household plunger

to balance her... Nah,
I'm not gonna spoil it for you.

Just don't leave
before seeing it.

And what am I supposed to talk
about in between strippers, huh?

Baseball?

Kittens? Grandparents?

I mean, how do you keep
a starving man's interest

when you're performing
between a chocolate doughnut

and a cheeseburger?

Not that you're all
paying attention to me.

See these guys right here?

These guys are ignoring me

and just talking to each other.

What are they talking about?

Just the stuff you'd expect
at a joint like this.

I can hear them, so let me
recreate the conversation.

"You know what I hate worse
than being stuck in traffic

when you got to piss real bad?

The fact that Aristotle
relied so much

on opinions based
on nonscientific reasoning."

"I disagree. I believe a person
can reason perfectly well

in circumstances
where we cannot claim

to have
scientific understanding,

so I defend
the philosopher Aristotle."

"Jesus Christ,
you and your fucking Aristotle.

It's Aristotle this
and Aristotle that."

"You know, he buggered young
boys." "It was a different time,

don't you know.
You can't apply modern standards

to ancient figures."

Sidebar. "Gee, Miriam Maisel,

how do you even know
all this stuff about Aristotle?

You seem very girly
with your pretty makeup

and your fashionable hairstyle
and your Park Avenue heels."

And I say, "Well, my father
would read Aristotle to me

as a child, and I absorbed facts

about the old fart
even though I don't know

what the fuck
any of it fucking means."

Didn't mean to interrupt.

Thank you!

See you in a few.

Now that I'm here,
looking at little Akiva,

- I still have no fucking idea
who that kid is.
- Me, neither.

- And they got me going last in order.
- - Shh.

- It's the best spot.
- Mystery.

Oh, there's Stevie.

Maybe she didn't recognize us.

No, she recognized us.

Look, out of respect for you,
I want you to know.

This? You and me?

I'm not in the market right now.

No matter what Rose Weissman
or my mother told you.

It's not gonna happen.

Excuse me. Buddy,
do we have a problem here?

No. No problem.

Then leave my wife alone?

Oh. Sure. Sorry.

And good Shabbas, by the way.

Abe, are you noticing
anything odd in here today?

Hmm? Not me.

From the diaphragm, Moishe-y.

From the diaphragm.

We now call to the bimah
for the final aliyah...

Navi Ben Nasan.

- What the hell?
- He must have got it wrong.

He read off the card.
The man has a card.

- It was on the card.
- Mr. Maisel.

Hi. I'm Akiva's mom.
Sorry for the misunderstanding.

Some signals got crossed
on our end.

Akiva mumbles.
We're working on that.

Oh, sure, sure.
I figured something happened.

I mean,
my son wouldn't even be able

to pick you out of a lineup.

Hope you didn't practice
too hard.

Not at all, actually.
Thanks for the heads-up.

- Thank you.
- He couldn't pick you
out of a lineup?

Little prick.

- You call that a voice?
- Pop, shh.

Abe, the rabbi.

I'm seeing your point now.

So it's not just me.

Akiva, you did a wonderful job.

Now, before we proceed
with Hagbah,

please tell everyone here
about your Torah portion.

In one word, what is it about?

Bravery.

Yes, well, uh,

bravery is very interesting,
Akiva, and very noble.

But is it as important as...

loyalty?

I-I guess.

Papa, what did you do
to the rabbi?

- I did nothing to the rabbi.
- But, um,

no one's braver
than my Uncle Saul.

He helped liberate
the Jews of Auschwitz

and now owns three restaurants,
one of them dine-in.

But one must keep in mind
how important it is

for a community such as ours

to be loyal to each other.

Do I have something on my shirt?

Shame on you, Abe Weissman.

- What did I do?
- Poor, innocent Buzz.

Oh.

What did you do to Buzz?

Your husband
killed his show.

Wrote horrible things about it
in that farkakte paper of his.

It was the boy's life's work.

The Village Voice
is not my paper.

- Papa, what did you write?
- I wrote what I saw.

Schmuck.

You should be ashamed,
Abe Weissman.

Look, people,

I am a journalist.

And sometimes, writing
a bad review is part of my job.

It's what I owe the public.

So, please,
let's have some respect

and give the floor back
to Rabbi Huebsche.

What's more important, Abraham,

- your public or your people?
- Yeah!

We escaped the jaws of Hitler
for this?

Slander. That's what he wrote.
Lies and slander!

Abe, what is this review?
What did you write?

Here. See for yourself.

I talked to Buzz last night,
and he was inconsolable.

Says he wished he'd drowned
in the lake that day.

He would have
if I hadn't saved him.

- Just to kill him again?
- "To watch

They Came, They Danced
is to reside in hell.

I felt an anger and despair
I had not felt

since I was a young man
realizing

that the American dream
came with an enormous asterisk."

- Oh, Papa.
- What?

I'm paid to speak the truth.
I'm paid to be honest.

Were you this honest
when your daughter

stunk up the show in '53?

Now, once and for all, people,

I may not be Mary Martin
or Jessica Tandy,

but I was a decent Clare,
and I did not stink up the show.

My singing isn't perfect,
but in musical theater,

character is more important
than technique.

Abe Weissman,

you stood there,
sipping champagne,

making small talk,
quoting Oscar Wilde,

hugging Buzz, toasting Buzz,

all while holding the knife
of Cain behind your back.

Oh, Pauly, don't be so dramatic.

You're the only one
who can speak truth?

Truth, huh? Truth?

Well, there's nothing
in the Hebrew Bible

indicating that Cain killed Abel
with a knife.

So much for your truth.

Yes, there is.
The Book of Genesis.

Cain killed Abel.

And it's implied
it was with a knife.

Rabbi, chime in here.

The Torah says that Cain

- was a worker of the ground.
- Exactly.

So it was most likely a hoe
or a trowel.

He didn't carry a knife.

And not that you care,

but my hard-earned nest egg
is kaput.

You said you invested
a small slice, Pauly.

Don't exaggerate for effect.

Small for the show, big for me.

You know,
the show was not very good.

What are you talking about?

- Maybe it was good.
- I was nice in this review.

I very kindly used the show
to talk about the rot

at the heart
of the American theater

instead of listing
all its faults.

What about the song?

It has one good song. That's it.

You can't have a musical
with one good song.

And I don't know why you're

on their side. That character
you loved to hate?

The rude, hectoring busybody?
It's you.

- I beg your pardon.
- Her name

was Iris. Rose, Iris.

She sipped sherry,

had a fortune-teller, two kids.

You ruined the show,
and now you've ruined

- poor Akiva's bar mitzvah.
- Yeah.

I wish I hadn't invited you,
Mr. Weissman.

No offense,
but there were a lot of problems

- with your invite list, kid.
- So you didn't like it.

Fine. You have to kill it
for everyone else?

It's a nice little show.
It isn't doing any harm.

It is. Because out there,
there's a great show

that isn't getting the resources
it needs to be seen.

- What show?
- What do you mean,

- what show?
- What show?

What's this great show
that's sitting out there

with no resources and no money?

There's ten shows out there

that could use resources.
Twenty.

- What are the 20 shows?
- He's saying

that if you give to one thing,
you're taking from another.

This from the girl
who stunk up the Catskills

- with her ham acting.
- Who said that?!

Don't hide! Who said that?!

Stop, everybody. Stop.

I am a distraction.

And, apparently,
an enemy of the people.

So I will leave

so that you can carry on
with your ceremony.

But there is something you all
need to know going forward.

You are the frog.

I am the scorpion.

I sting because it is my nature.

Damn, I wish I had my cape.

So what
if I make demands?

I mean, how hard is it
to make room-temperature water?

It's the temperature
of the room.

Hey, do we know a Mr. Fibbi?

Fibbi?
What kind of name is that?

It says, "4:30. Mr. Fibbi
called. Will call back."

Doesn't ring a bell.

Zelda never takes
the first name.

I keep telling her to do that.

The staff at Steiner
always seemed so happy

to have
their mistakes corrected.

And there is a certain way
to cut a grapefruit.

God made those segments
for a reason.

- Hello?
- Abe. It's Asher.

Asher. This is a surprise.

Really? I'm a little surprised
that you're surprised.

- Why?
- Well,

a friend sent me
this thing you wrote

in the, uh, Village Voice.

You review a show.
They Came, They Danced.

- Sounds like a piece of shit.
- That's putting it mildly.

And then you got
a little nostalgic at the end

with the asterisk
and the American dream,

which segued very nicely

into something the two of us did
back in the '20s.

My editor likes me
to get personal.

Oh, sure.

But did he like the fact
that you fingered the two of us

for a federal fucking crime,
Abe?!

- What are you talking about?
- The nifty little paragraph

about art and anarchy

where you describe very vividly

how you and I
set a federal building on fire.

Oh, that was years ago.
No one cares.

- The FBI does.
- What?

They want to see us in the
New York field office next week.

The FBI hasn't contacted me.

They will. Trust me.

So kiss your loved ones goodbye

and grab your toothbrush, Abe,
because you and I are gonna be

breaking rocks at Leavenworth.

Which is gonna be hell
on my gout.

- See you in New York.
- Asher...

Mr. Fibbi.

To Jackie.

A man who didn't
suffer fools gladly

and thought everyone was a fool.

A man whose love of ocarinas
summed up his total

lack of musical taste.

A man who borrowed ten bucks
from me the day before he died,

because somehow he knew.

A man who knew how to drive me
crazier than any person

in this fucking world,
except you.

A man who was... my friend.

- To Jackie.
- To Jackie.

♪ All my friends,
and they died