All language subtitles for Capone.1975

(BELL TOLLING)

(FOOTSTEPS)

Come on. Hurry up.

(DOORBELL JINGLING)

Hello, operator?
Get me the police.

(ENGINE STARTS)

(TIRES SCREECHING)

- Bet these are worth 20 grand.
- Shut up.

OFFICER: Hold it.

Get up against the car.
Spread them out.

Come on. Move.

Fucking wops.

(GRUNTS)

(GROANS)

(GRUNTING)

(GLASS SHATTERING)

Get up. Okay, get up. Come on.

Okay, you guinea son of
a bitch, who were they?

I don't know.

Easy, Mike, easy.

Give the lad a chance.

You got trouble.

Big trouble. You know
that, don't you?

- I didn't mean anything.
- Look,

they're gonna put you
away for 10 years. Easy.

Unless you open up.

Captain, I swear. I didn't
know those two guys.

I figured it was a stickup
going on, I wanted to help.

You see two uniformed
policemen making a pinch

and you think it's a stickup?

It was dark in there.
I couldn't see.

MAN: Mike!

All right, beat it.

- Just a goddamn minute, lieutenant...
- That'll be enough of that.

- Come on, get out of here.
- Sure thing, lieutenant.

It was only a mistake,
that's all. Right, officer?

Do you want your goddamn head
busted, you fucking wop?

Goddamn fink.

Move!

I got a call from Judge
McQuade's bailiff.

Seems His Honor would appreciate
us letting this guy go.

Not only didn't His Honor know
why this guy was pulled in,

he didn't even know
his goddamn name.

Now, how is that
for a laugh, huh?

(VEHICLE APPROACHING)

Hop in, kid.

- Yeah, says who?
- Says me.

Up yours.

Get in.

(KNOCK ON DOOR)

- You have a name?
- Alphonse Capone.

Everybody calls me Al.

Your father own a
barbershop on Navy Street?

- Yeah, that's right.
- I know him, Frank.

Gabriel Capone, nice man.

When you see him, you just tell him
that Johnny Torrio sends his respects.

Oh, I sure will, Mr. Torrio.

- Who tipped you off on
the fur heist? - Nobody.

Nobody tipped me
off, Mr. Yale.

See, I got this girl. She
lives on Myrtle Avenue

and I'm coming home. I see this squad
pull in the alley, grab these two fellas.

I put my nose in, that's all.

- You know our boys were in there? - Well,
I don't know your boys, Mr. Yale.

Least I don't think
I know any of them.

Anyway, I tell you the truth,

it was so dark in there you
couldn't see nobody's face at all.

You're gonna stand there and you're
gonna tell me that you jumped two cops

with nothing in it for you?

Well...

Now that I think of it, if I'd thought
about it at all, I wouldn't have done it.

I just don't like
cops, that's all.

- Here.
- Oh, no.

Please, Mr. Yale. It was a pleasure
to do a man like you a favor.

An important man like you.
My pleasure, I swear.

Yeah. You go out
there, see Solly.

Tell him to drive you over to St.
Vincent's. Fix up that face of yours.

Sure thing, Mr. Yale.

- Thank you.
- TORRIO: Go ahead.

You too, Mr. Torrio.
Pleasure to meet you.

Hey, how'd you make out, kid?

(GROANING)

- "J.M." Who's J.M.? - Judge
McQuade, 20th District.

Frank, 2000 a month?

He keeps the fourth
ward whorehouses open.

Fifty thousand dollars a month,
clear. You do that good in Chicago?

A little bit here, a little
bit there. It adds up.

Remember when we were kids?

We had rags on our backs.

Had cockroaches in the oatmeal.

Crabs on our balls from
the stinky toilets.

(LAUGHING)

But one thing we did
have, we had brains.

Even as kids we had brains.

These punks today, they have nothing.
They got brains up their ass.

No, no. Not all of them, Frank.
Young Capone.

You didn't believe that story he told
you, did you? He called the cops.

Oh. Come on. Do you
remember when we were kids?

How we got the big shots
to notice us, huh?

- You bastard.
- (LAUGHS)

Twenty thousand clear from that fur
heist. I ought to have his neck broke.

If I were you, I'd put
him on the payroll.

I gotta get going.

Johnny.

Give regards to Big Jim.

- Yeah. He's still buying
diamonds. - Respect, huh?

Yeah.

I don't wanna argue
with you, Johnny.

Sure, Prohibition comes in.
So what?

There'll be a few wise guys bootlegging
the stuff, but not Big Jim Colosimo.

I don't wanna tangle
with no feds.

Federal badges or not, they
all got their hands out.

You name the right
price and I guarantee

they'll be on the take
just like anybody else.

Look, I'm doing okay with my
whorehouses and my gambling spots.

What's the matter, Johnny?

Ten grand a month
don't satisfy you?

Not when there's a chance
to rake in millions.

Now what the hell would
I do with millions?

Buy more diamonds?
Here. Diamonds.

Johnny, let me tell
you something.

If Prohibition comes in, it
ain't gonna last six months.

You take beer and booze
away from the people,

they're gonna be sore as hell.

One thing the politicians can't afford
is to have the voters mad at them.

So forget about this bootlegging.
I want no part of it.

That's my last word.

Capisce?

WOMAN: (ON PHONE)
Operator. Number, please?

Long distance, please.

- Operator. - Brooklyn,
New York, operator.

Yeah, Mr. Frankie Yale.

- Prospect-1107.
- Thank you.

My number is Wabash-6215.

(PHONE RINGS)

Hello. Hello, Frank.

Johnny. Yeah, yeah.
Fine, fine. (CHUCKLES)

Well, how about you?

Huh.

Yeah, well, listen, Frank. Uh,
the reason why I'm calling.

I'm in a situation out here. I gotta
have somebody to give me a hand.

No, no, no. Somebody I
can trust 100 percent.

Are you kidding? In this town?

I wouldn't even trust the
pope if he came from Chicago.

I was thinking about, uh... You
know, this Alphonse Capone.

He comes to my mind, and, uh...

(TRAIN WHISTLE BLOWING)

(PEOPLE TALKING INDISTINCTLY
IN ITALIAN)

(JAZZ MUSIC PLAYING)

(WHISPERING INDISTINCTLY)

Scusate.

-TORRIO: Hey, Alphonse.
- Hey, Johnny.

What happened? I was
beginning to worry.

Ah, I had to find a hotel.

Oh, I should have
arranged all of that.

But never mind. We'll
take care of that later.

Come on upstairs. I got some
friends I want you to meet.

- Yeah. - What do you
think of the joint?

Oh, it's a beauty.

It's all right. Come on.

So I said, "Mr. Mayor, you
expect me to feed you"

"and half of city
hall for nothing?

"Ain't it enough," I said,
"that me and my friends

"stuffed the ballot box to
get you elected at all?"

- (ALL LAUGHING)
- Jim,

I want you to meet a friend
of mine, Alphonse Capone.

- He just came in from the
East Coast. - Did you?

- Honor to meet you, sir. - Alphonse
is gonna be working for me.

This is my wife.

- (SPEAKS IN ITALIAN)
- CAPONE: How do you do?

Mr. and Mrs. Jake Guzik.

- Pleasure to meet you. - MR.
GUZIK: How do you do?

-TORRIO: Miss Crawford.
- Hello.

And, um, her friend,
uh, Mr. Cooper.

Pleasure to meet you.

I'm sorry. I just
washed my hands.

Don't mind Mr. Cooper. He's
widely known as a horse's ass.

(GIGGLES)

You stupid...

Take him for a walk.
Cool him off.

(SPEAKING IN ITALIAN)

(BREATHING HEAVILY)

Big Jim Colosimo.

If he had listened to me
a year ago, one year,

we'd have been cleaning up in
this beer racket right now.

Or maybe you could split
up on him, Mr. Torrio.

Start your own business.

Oh, no, it takes time.
You don't understand.

I need strong connections
in the mayor's office,

county building, the
police department.

Even into Springfield.

And time is something
that I don't have.

Alphonse,

you have the brains. Ambition.

You're not afraid of anything.

These are qualities that could
make you a very important man.

But only if you
put into my hands

your trust,

your loyalty,

and even your life.

All these are yours, padrone.

On the soul of my
mother, I swear it.

Ah, Big Jim, Big Jim.

He's a fine man.

He's been very good to me.

I love him like the
brother that I never had.

But he just won't listen.

He won't listen.

It must happen in such a way
that he has no warning.

No fear.

No pain.

(SAXOPHONE PLAYING)

- Hey, Joe. Anybody looking for me?
- Not that I seen, Mr. Colosimo.

JIM: Operator, I wanna
call Wabash-7176.

Hello. Let me talk to Rookwood.

Hey, Rookwood, it's Jimmy.

I've been waiting around here for
the last 15 minutes. Yeah. Where...

- (GUNSHOT)
- (GRUNTS)

(COUGHING)

(PANTING)

(THUDS)

$250,000, Mr. Stenson.

As a down payment.

A down payment on exactly
what, may I ask?

I was told that you own seven
breweries, is that right?

Yes. Closed by the
18th Amendment.

- I wanna lease them from you. - You
expect to manufacture near beer?

Near beer is second step to
making real beer, Mr. Stenson.

Are you suggesting, Mr. Torrio,

that I actually become
involved in bootlegging?

What are you worried about?
Prohibition?

All you gotta do is show those
feds a little Dough-Re-Mi.

I'll tell you how to handle it.
Now, you lease your breweries

to a legitimate company
in New Jersey.

That company, in turn,
will sublet them to me.

And no matter what happens, you
can't possibly be held accountable.

I take it you expect this
to be a profitable venture.

Mr. Stenson, Chicago is
a beer drinking town.

No law can change that.

Now, I can guarantee that
your share of the profits

won't be under
$1,000,000 a month.

You sure know your
onions, Mr. Torrio.

A soon as you waved that dough under
his nose, you had him by the balls.

Shut up. Shut up.

I broke my ass trying to
put this deal together.

You almost killed
the whole thing.

"What are you worried
about, Mr. Stenson?"

"The feds are a bunch
of dopes, Mr. Stenson."

Alphonse, what's the matter?
Don't you use your head?

Come on. I'm gonna
tell you something.

From now on, we're gonna be dealing
with a lot of important people.

Judges, lawyers, businessmen,
big politicians.

To get anywhere with them,

you're gonna have to learn how
to... How to look like them,

walk like them, dress like them.

And most important of all, you're gonna
have to learn how to talk like them.

Because the minute you open your mouth,
like you did up there with Joe Stenson,

the minute they find out that
you're a Union Street punk,

they're not gonna come
within a mile of you.

Are you listening to
what I'm telling you?

Sure, Mr. Torrio, sure.

Andiamo.

(CAR ENGINE STARTS)

(ENGINE HUMMING)

Pete.

(GRUNTS)

(GROANING)

- Hello, boys.
- (GUNSHOTS)

Frank, stay in the car.

- When Weiss gets here,
send him inside. - Okay.

Pete, I want you in
there with me. Come on.

There's our gold mine.

Twenty-eight miles long, 16
miles wide. Two million people.

And that's not even taking in the
little towns around the edges.

Now, do you have any idea how
much whiskey, how much beer

two million people
can drink in a year?

In a week?

O'BANION: Or how many broads
they can screw, hey, Johnny?

I hear that a good
whorehouse wop,

like yourself, and the
Genna boys, here,

have got a setup that
brings in a lot of dough.

Is that right, Johnny?

(ALL LAUGHING)

It's a profitable
business, Mr. O'Banion.

But peanuts to what
I'm talking about.

So, what the hell are you talking
about? Getting into bootlegging?

Every mob in town's
involved in it already.

Deanie and myself, we got a
flock of them North End joints.

And we're moving beer in there
as fast as we can haul it.

Especially out-of-town
beer, huh, Hymie?

You got something to say,
just spit it right out.

O'Donnell here had 600 barrels
that were coming in from Joliet

Monday night.

They never showed up.

- Isn't that right, Spike?
- SPIKE: That's right.

- You saying we hijacked it?
- You bet your fucking ass.

Alphonse.

(SPEAKING IN ITALIAN)

You see, this is another reason
why I called this sit-down.

We gotta stop this fighting.
Quit this name-calling.

Before we start
killing each other.

Now, look, we start off by cutting
the town up into territories.

O'Banion territory.

Spike O'Donnell.

Little Italy, the
Genna brothers.

The Loop, and the rest of
the South Side is all mine.

You're taking one hell
of a big bite, Johnny.

Yeah, that's right, Mr. Weiss.
Protection costs.

I got the feds, Springfield,

the mayor's office, the judges,
the police department.

I mean, it takes money. All of
that's coming out of my pocket.

Look, if this is played
right, we got a gold mine.

No more hijacking.

No muscling in on another man's
territory, no more shootings.

We don't need trouble.

We can't afford trouble.

(KNOCK ON DOOR)

- Yes.
- (OPERA MUSIC PLAYING)

You better come outside, Al, before
this dame, she gonna wreck the joint.

(YELLING IN ITALIAN)

IRIS: You're dead, fathead.

Stay away from me, you creep.

You drip.

Don't touch me, you spineless...

Take your claws off me, you
pigeon-toed son of a bitch.

You make me sick.

- You can go to hell.
- Oh, yeah, says you...

Now, you calm down and be
a nice little girl, huh?

It's all right, folks. Go
back to your dinners now.

(ENGINE HUMMING)

Are we going somewhere?

Or are you taking me for a ride?

I'm taking you home.

Oh.

I thought hoodlums left
their victims in alleys.

Ah, come on. Knock it
off, Miss Crawford.

You get drunk, you throw things at
people. You do a lot of damage.

And I come very near to throwing
your ass in the drunk tank.

- Why didn't you? - Rich
dames got rich fathers.

Rich fathers got a way
of returning favors.

(TIRES SCREECH)

Well,

thank you for the
ride, Mr. Caponi.

Capone. Al Capone.

You spend all your
time hitting people?

I take Sundays off.

No more beer from
O'Donnell's guys, get me?

- From now on you take it from
O'Banion. - Screw you, buddy.

I wouldn't peddle
O'Banion's slop for free.

Joe, you gotta learn
to listen to people.

(GROANS)

(GLASS SHATTERING)

MAN: Hold it, Pete.

(GUNSHOTS)

The hell with the others.
Get O'Donnell.

(HORNS HONKING)

MAN: Looks like O'Donnell
just wasted a good cigar.

Hello, Spike.

(GUNSHOTS)

(ENGINE REVS)

An Auburn? Come on, Jake. You have
any idea what that'll cost us?

I know a judge don't come cheap,
but an Auburn, for chrissakes.

I'm... I'm running around in a
goddamn Ford, he wants an Auburn?

Yeah. Yeah.

All right, get him
his fucking Auburn

but when we want a favor,
he'd better come through.

You tell him I said so.

Hey, Johnny.

TORRIO: Alphonse.

I got a call from Jake
Guzik this morning.

Says Cicero's all set
for us to move in.

Yeah, we're taking
over next week.

Setting up, uh, headquarters
in the New Dawn Hotel.

Ah, it's beautiful,
Johnny, beautiful.

Now, remember, these are
small-town politicians.

- You gotta cooperate.
Make compromises. - Ah.

Use bribes instead of bullets. We
don't wanna ruin a good thing.

I'll handle city hall like
it was made of glass.

That's what I wanna hear.

Hear about Spike O'Donnell?

Both barrels of a shotgun.

They're picking his brains out of the
cigars in a store window on 63rd Street.

Yeah.

O'Banion's boys.

(SPEAKING IN ITALIAN)

I talked with him. I told him,
I pleaded with him to lay off.

I keep telling you, Johnny, you can't
reason with these fucking Irish assholes.

All they understand is
bullets right up the ass.

That's exactly the kind of talk that got us
into all this trouble in the first place.

When are you gonna get it through
that cement head of yours

that we are businessmen and
not U.S. Marines? Huh?

Okay, okay.

With O'Donnell gone, maybe
all of this will cool down.

(SIGHS)

I don't know what your beef is with
the Genna brothers, Mr. O'Banion.

But whatever it is, I'm quite
sure that you and I can reach

a, uh, satisfactory
solution to the problem.

We made a deal, Torrio.
A deal.

I help you take over Cicero.

Everything north of 12th
Street, there, belongs to me.

No ifs, ands or buts.

- That's right, isn't it?
- That's right.

Well, them dago pals of yours

been pushing that cat piss they
call whiskey into my joints.

So I'm telling you, here
and now, it's gotta stop.

And if you don't stop
them, I, by God, will.

- I'll talk to them. - Do
you hear that, lads?

He'll talk to them. Fuck talking to
them. I'm telling you to tell them.

Tell them I catch one more
grease ball son of a bitch

north of 12th Street, he'll
end up in a pine box.

Chrissake, Johnny, how
long you gonna take this?

- Al... - I want you to
hear something, bigmouth.

If it wasn't for Johnny, you and your bums
would still be knocking over poor boxes.

You don't make the rules.
Johnny Torrio makes the rules.

He owns this fucking town.

That includes you.

Come on, lads.

You're dead, Capone.

(SPITS)

I'll crap on your grave, Polack.

That was a big mistake, Al.

(PHONE RINGING)

- Who the hell is this? - Pete.
Get your ass out of bed.

- Oh, yeah, Deanie.
- Hit the Genoas.

- You mean tonight? - I'll
call Frank and Moran.

(PHONE RINGS)

O'Leary's.

Frank Gusenberg? You
got a phone call.

WEISS: It's about time
we hit those dagos.

- (PHONE RINGS)
- Can anybody beat the big lady?

MAN 1: Beats me. MAN 2:
Hey, Moran. Telephone.

(GUNSHOT)

(GUNSHOTS)

- (ENGINE STARTS)
- (TIRES SCREECH)

(EXPLOSION)

- (WOMAN SCREAMING)
- (BABY CRYING)

My condolences on the
loss of your brother.

(SPEAKING IN ITALIAN)

Johnny, I'd like you to
meet a couple of boys here.

Frank Nitti, Jack McGurn.

My personal bodyguards.

You're gonna need a
couple yourself, Johnny.

- Antonio. - I ask
for this sit-down

at the request of the Genna
brothers and their families.

In one black night,

they suffered the murder
of a beloved brother,

the horror of a wife and
child blown from their beds.

Had whiskey worth $30,000
taken from them by force.

All of this on the orders of your
business partner, Dion O'Banion.

I spoke to O'Banion a
couple of days ago.

He complained to me that the Genoas
were muscling in on his joints.

It was an unfortunate mistake
by men new to the territory.

When Angelo heard about it

he sent an emissary to
O'Banion to settle the matter.

You wanna know what
Mr. O'Banion said to Maxie?

He said, "Tell them
Sicilianos to go to hell."

I say kill Mr. O'Banion.

Angelo,

you know, personally, I'd like nothing
better than go to O'Banion's funeral.

You know what that would 'cause?

A shooting war.

- A lot of people aren't gonna
like that. - What people, Johnny?

All those guys care about is booze, broads,
couple of dollars to play the ponies.

If we let them get away with this,
they'll think we've got shit for blood,

come down on us
like a ton of coal.

Charlie.

Al makes a lot of sense, Johnny.

Jake. I don't know,

J.T. Maybe if we was to try to set
up another meeting with O'Banion...

No. I'm telling you now.

Nobody's gonna talk to nobody.

You don't wanna kill
this, uh, this puzzone,

me and my brother,
we'll do this.

(SPEAKING IN ITALIAN)

(INDISTINCT CONVERSATIONS)

Mr. Capone.

Ah, senator, what brings
you up from Springfield?

I wanna personally thank J.T. for his
very liberal campaign contribution.

We take care of our friends,
senator. Where can Johnny reach you?

- I'll be at The Drake for
a couple days. - Good.

Enjoy the evening.

- Take care of the senator.
- CROUPIER: Sure thing, Mr. Capone.

Ah, Mr. Capone, this is Joe
Pryor, deputy sheriff.

Sure took your sweet
time getting here.

That desk is solid walnut.
It set me back 300.

- So get your fucking feet off it.
- Now, just a goddamn minute...

Now, you wanted the boss?
I'm the boss.

Now what's on your mind?

Five grand.

You got three crap tables
going full blast out there.

A couple roulette wheels, a row of slots,
and you're selling booze at the bar.

Mr. Capone, you're breaking
a lot of laws around here.

Yeah?

- So? - So how do
you think them

society swells of yours are gonna
like spending the night in the clink?

Five grand will give
them a pass, huh?

It was gonna be three, but,
uh, you got my uniform dirty.

- Sam, get Hoffman on
the phone. - Oh, uh,

I forgot to tell you,

the sheriff's on vacation.

Oh, so you thought you might make a
killing while he's out of town, huh?

(CLANKING)

Give you five grand? I wouldn't piss
up your ass if you was on fire.

(INDISTINCT CONVERSATIONS)

Pay the lady and I
don't mean maybe.

And here they come again.
Place your bets.

- Sixteen hundred bucks,
goddamn it. - Get your...

MAN: Let's go double up and beat
the bank. Your luck's mounting.

The little lady's coming out.

STICKMAN: What's your bet?
Coming out.

Hey, gangster. Mr. Capone.

Come on over here.

Good evening, Miss Crawford.
What can I do for you?

Blow on them. For luck.

STICKMAN: Coming out.

Winner, seven. Count the
tips and pay the chips.

You're cashing in.

(SIGHS)

Mr. Capone, would you mind breaking
this gentleman's nose again?

You want a bodyguard, hire one.

(GROANS)

All right. Nobody move.

(SCREAMING)

(INDISTINCT SHOUTING)

Freeze.

Get your hands behind your
back, Capone. Come on, move.

(LAUGHS) I always wanted an
excuse to clobber a cop.

You dumb broad. Come on.
Come on.

Come on.

Now, get in there. Get in there.

- What? In here? - That's right.
Get.

(GRUNTING)

Oh, please, don't get up.

We're just, uh, passing through.

Go ahead, back to work.

(WOMAN LAUGHING)

- Where are we, anyway? - CAPONE:
We're in a whorehouse.

(CLANGING)

Well, well, well.
Lookie what I found.

(ALL SCREAMING)

Get them out. Get them out.

Capone, do something.

(CHATTERING)

(PHONE RINGING)

- Bitch.
- (KNOCK AT DOOR)

Come on in.

(DOORS CLOSING)

You can pick up the
girl on the way out.

Uh, no hard feelings, Mr. Capone.
It's just business, you understand.

Ah, sure, we all got
a living to make.

Now, you take care of
yourself and your family.

Men in your line of work are liable to
run into some pretty tough customers.

(PHONE RINGING)

Hello.

Yeah. Who wants to know?

Some dame named Crawford.
Says you know her.

Okay, what is it?

Do I play what?

(CLAPPING)

-CAPONE: Brava. Brava.
- Thank you.

Okay, your shot.

All right. It's very easy. You just keep
your left arm straight. No, the left arm.

- Left arm straight.
- Pivot the shoulders.

- Okay. I got it, I got it. - And
keep your eye on the ball.

Hey.

Uh-ah!

Not bad.

It would seem people aren't
the only thing you can hit.

Eh, I played a lot of
stickball as a kid.

CAPONE: You know, this is good fun.
IRIS: Give you a little class.

(BELL JINGLES)

Shit.

I gather one doesn't do
much putting in stickball.

Oh, good evening, lad. You're here for
the Mike Merlo flowers, of course.

That's right.

(GUNSHOTS)

(BELL JINGLES)

(DOOR CLOSES)

To the underworld's
most promising golfer.

Hmm, 68, not bad, huh?

For nine holes? Excellent.

(CHUCKLES)

Iris. How nice to see you.

Mrs. Atkins, Miss
Detwiller, Mr. Capone.

- How do you do, ladies?
- Oh, why, of course.

Your picture's been
in all the papers.

- You're the famous...
- Gangster.

Well, since you said it.

I've never met anyone in your line
of business before, Mr. Capone.

It must be terribly exciting.
Forgive me, but, uh, (CLEARS THROAT)

do you actually carry a gun?

Oh, darling, that's
called packing a rod.

Isn't that right, Mr. Capone?

Sure, I pack a rod all the time.

Here, let me show you.

- (GASPING)
- (LAUGHING)

(VIOLIN PLAYING)

(SINGING IN ITALIAN)

(GUNSHOTS)

(TIRES SCREECHING)

MAN: Hey. Hey. Look out.

(SCREAMING)

(WOMEN SCREAMING)

Get out of here.

(EXPLOSION)

CAPONE: I gotta go back
through the doors.

- Get a better edge on it.
- Yeah.

MAN: Talking about humping
your girlfriends, Charlie.

CHARLIE: Yeah, very funny.
What are you, a comedian?

MAN: Your ladies are very funny.
CHARLIE: Ain't got no class.

FRANK: Hold it, Al.

Get back.

What is it, Frank?

Jesus Christ.

What tipped you off?

When we left the car here last
night, the mirror was straight.

Now, whoever left that bomb must've
accidentally bumped into the mirror.

I owe you, Frank.

Well, let's take a walk, huh?
Nice day.

(GUN COCKS)

Better than 500 slugs
in one minute.

Now, that's something
to think about, huh?

CAPONE: Hey, Johnny,
glad to see you.

Where'd that come from?

I had Charlie pick up
four of them yesterday.

I wanna talk to you, Al.
Alone.

Sure, Johnny.

Can I get you something?

These killings, Alphonse.
These senseless killings.

TORRIO: Nine in two weeks.
It's gotta stop.

- Hey, try telling that to Hymie
Weiss. - TORRIO: I intend to.

I want you to get in
touch with Maxie Eisen.

Tell him to tell Weiss
and Moran I wanna talk.

Put a stop to this crazy war.

After we got rid of O'Banion?
Waste of breath.

- Waste of time, Johnny.
- No, no, no.

(SIGHS) Not when they hear
my offer, Alphonse.

Yeah, what's that?

I'm gonna give them the Loop
north of Madison Street,

all of Rogers Park. Everything
in Cicero north of 16th Street,

a cut in our slot machine take and half
interest in the Lake County roadhouses.

(SHOUTING)
What, are you nuts?

You give Weiss an edge like that,
he'll own the town in six months.

Alphonse, these killings go on,

Weiss, Moran, all of
us, we're finished.

Now, the word came down from
city hall and Springfield.

We've gotta clean up this mess.

You and I busted our asses
to build this business.

I mean, if we start giving parts of
it away, we go downhill in no time.

Now, I say no.

(SHOUTING) Fuck city hall.
Fuck Springfield.

With what we pay
them bloodsuckers.

For chrissakes, if any one
of us open our mouths,

half the politicians in Cook
County would be on a rock pile.

Alphonse,

a business is only as good
as the man who runs it.

Fortunately, I'm
running this one.

Now, you get in touch
with Maxie Eisen

and you give him my message.

Johnny, Johnny.

I, uh... I was just
blowing off steam.

I'll handle it.

Me, you could always count on.

(RINGS)

(OPERA MUSIC PLAYING)

CAPONE: I got a job needs handling. A
job we can't afford to have fucked up.

You play ball with me on this,

I'll give you a chance to be
a big man in this business.

But for that I need your
trust, your loyalty,

to your last breath.

I place my life in
your hands, padrone.

On the soul of my
mother, I swear this.

Johnny Torrio. Put
him to sleep.

Can I say something, Mr. Capone?

Mr. Torrio, he's got
a lot of friends.

They think you had him rubbed
out, that wouldn't be so good.

But they wouldn't think it, not
if Hymie Weiss' boys did the job.

One phone call, from a friend.

No names, just the address
where Mr. Torrio is holed up.

1-1-0-7

Clyde Avenue.

Let's go.

(CAR DOOR SHUTS)

(GUNSHOT)

This one's for O'Banion.

You dago son of a bitch.

Hymie, come on, before
the cops get here.

(GRUNTING)

(CAR DOOR SHUTS)

(CAR ENGINE STARTS)

(TALKING INDISTINCTLY)

- What do you think, doc?
- We can't tell yet.

But his rugged constitution
is certainly in his favor.

Yeah, well, those sons of bitches can try
again, doc. Right here in your hospital.

I'm putting a man in his room, two men
in the hallway, around the clock.

There's no reason for that.

- The police will... - He
could be dead by morning.

There are more crooked cops in
this town than there are toilets.

Let's go.

(PHONE RINGS)

Yeah.

Well, that's great, doc.

- He's gonna make it.
- That the way you want it?

- I don't know. I love the man.
- He's got a yellow streak.

Yeah, that's right.

I couldn't stand around watching
him louse up the business, huh?

Maybe you won't have to. He's gotta
figure Weiss'll hit him again.

(SNORING)

(KNOCKING ON DOOR)

Johnny.

Johnny, it's Al.

- Alphonse. - I'm here, Johnny.
I'm listening.

(SOFTLY) O'Banion.

Where's Moran?

I begged them. I
pleaded with them.

No violence.

I lost.

(GASPING)

I'm leaving...

I'm leaving Chicago.

Yeah, but what about
the business, Johnny?

Who's gonna run the business?

It's all yours.

Take care of it.

I don't have a
stomach for blood.

I'll get them, Johnny.

(SINGING IN ITALIAN)

(WOMAN GASPS)

I don't like it, Jake.

This year I want them figures
up around 90 million.

We'll start by taking over the
South Side policy wheels.

Oh, not that nickel-and-dime crap the
niggers play around with out there.

Oh, yeah? Well, I've been doing
some investigating, Charlie,

on the q.t.

And you know what that
nickel-and-dime stuff is worth?

Two hundred thousand
dollars a week.

Now, in a year that's, uh...

- What is that? Ten million.
- Ten million.

Some fooling around, huh?

I don't know, Al. Those black
boys are tough monkeys.

I don't think it's anything that
Johnny would get involved in...

- (THUDS)
- Will you shut up about Johnny.

I run this outfit.

Me. Al Capone.
Now, you got that?

Yeah, sure, Al.
(STUTTERING) I understand.

And another thing.

The unions in this town. There's
a shithouse full of them,

loaded with money.

What we do is,

we replace the guys running those
unions with some of our boys.

We start on both those things
first thing in the morning.

All right, sing. Sing.

Who's next?

Joe Aiello. Runs the
North Side Sicilians.

CAPONE: Personally, I don't give a
shit who runs the Mafia in this town.

But all I heard about
you, Mr. Aiello,

is you got a lot of muscle
over on Division Street.

And that's on the
North Side of town.

I gotta be straight with you.

I got no reason to be crazy
about that end of town.

If you mean the Weiss outfit,

we do some business there.

Beyond that, nothing.

They don't talk nice about
the Sicilian people.

I'll give it to you straight.

(WOMAN SINGING)

Tony...

Wants to run the
Mafia in this town.

And I'm gonna give
him my full support.

100%.

(SPEAKING IN ITALIAN)

You're gonna have a problem
with that ginzo, Al.

Ah, forget it. A bum like that
gives the business a bad name.

- Who else you got out there?
- You're not gonna believe this.

Frank Loesch.

Head of the Crime Commission?

There hasn't been an honest
election in this town in years.

Ballot boxes stuffed,
polling-place judges intimidated,

candidates assaulted.

Now, I want it stopped.

Particularly during
this coming election.

Glad to be of service, sir.

Tell you what I'll do. I'll
send the cops out in squad cars

the night before the election,

jug all the hoodlums. Keep them in
jail until after the polls close.

- You got my word on it.
- Thank you.

Now you know who owns
this fucking town.

(HUMMING)

- You know the Pony Inn?
- Yeah, Harry Madigan's joint.

Yeah, well, the Greek says there's five
guys from the North Side headed there now.

He's sure one of
them is Hymie Weiss.

Hey, hold it, Al.

What are you, some kind of fucking
cowboy? There's five of them.

You might get yourself killed. Do
you know what that would do to us?

To the whole business?
Right down the toilet.

How do you like this guy?

Always looking out
for the boss, huh?

Don't worry.

Nobody's gonna kill Al Capone.

Nobody.

(INDISTINCT CONVERSATIONS)

(MEN LAUGHING)

That guy on the end.
He's built like Weiss.

Well, Weiss or not, he's keeping
the wrong kind of company.

Let's go.

(GUNSHOTS)

(GRUNTS)

MAN: (ON RADIO) We interrupt this program
to bring you a special bulletin.

In a flare-up of gang
warfare tonight,

three men were shot dead in a hail
of machine gun and pistol fire

on a Cicero street.

The dead men tentatively
identified as James Doherty, 29,

and Thomas "Red" Duffy, 28,
who are allegedly aligned

with the infamous North Side mob

led by the notorious Earl
"Little Hymie" Weiss.

The identity of the third
victim has not yet been...

I've just been handed
a special bulletin.

The third victim has now
been positively identified

as assistant state's attorney
William H. McSwiggen, 26,

often referred to as the
"hanging prosecutor."

We now return you to
the Hotel Sherman

for more music by Ben
Bernie and all his lads.

Jesus Christ.

They'll nail my
ass to the cross.

A witness will testify that he saw
your client and three of his hoodlums

leave the Newthorne Hotel 20 minutes
before McSwiggen was murdered

and that your client was
carrying a machine gun.

This machine gun. Found half a
block from the scene of the crime.

Sold to one Charles Fischetti,

known to be a member
of your client's mob.

Mr. Bronson, your client is
going before the grand jury.

And on the evidence this
office will present,

he will be indicted,
tried and executed.

Oh, cut the
horseshit, Mr. Crowe.

I was paying Bill McSwiggen.

That's right. And I
got what I paid for,

and that's enough to throw you and your
whole fucking department out the window.

Now, you don't want me to tell
that to the grand jury, do you?

First one today. With this hand.

I just made up a joke. Let's see
that sexy Italian smile of yours.

If you ask me, there ought to be
a law against women drinking.

Yes, well, I think there is.

I'm beginning to wonder
if you sleep with them.

Who?

That pair of clowns you got back
there, breathing down our neck.

We go to a restaurant,
they're at the next table.

We go to a show, they're
sitting right behind us.

We go for a ride, they're
practically in the back seat.

Can't you go anywhere
without them?

Not if I wanna stay healthy.

Pull over.

What for?

Just pull over.

You wanna drive, huh?

I'll wait for you.

Looks like the big fella's
tired of driving.

(TIRES SCREECHING)

Step on it.

- Come on, McGurn.
- I'm going.

This broad's crazy.
Where's she going?

Watch out.

Come on, McGurn.

(GIGGLING)

(HONKING)

Hey, now, you better slow down.

Relax. I'm a good driver.

You'll get us all killed.

No way.

Just hold on.

- Do you see them?
- No.

- Where did they go? - What
are you asking me for?

Well, you're looking, I'm
driving. Where did they go?

In case you ever need a
good getaway driver...

You could've got us both killed.

You...

It just so happens my brother's one of
the best racecar drivers in the Midwest.

He taught me how to handle a car
before I even started menstruating.

Bill and I come out
here once in a while.

It's a wonderful spot for
a little heavy necking.

Why do you say things like that?

Huh?

Having your period.

Letting some guy get
into your pants.

If my sister ever talked like
that, I'd cut her tongue out.

Well, well, well. Fancy that.

A morality lecture from
a cheap bootlegger.

That's right, I'm a bootlegger.
But I tell you one thing.

If I ever had a kid, she wouldn't go
around with a dress up to her ass,

smoking cigarettes,
lapping up bathtub gin

and running off at the mouth
like a whorehouse toilet.

You wanna hear something
funny, Capone?

What's that?

I got a call from this girl
I went to college with.

Husband's an absolute bastard.
Treats her like dirt.

He only married her
for her money.

But they're both Catholic,
so a divorce is out.

Anyway...

She calls me up,

said she heard you were a friend of
mine and would I do her a favor?

Well, you'll never
guess what favor.

She wants me to take the
bum for a one-way ride.

All right.

What's his name? Where
does he hang out?

You're not serious.

She's a friend of yours,
you're a friend of mine,

friends do favors for friends.

Could I watch?

Mmm-mmm. (GIGGLING) No.

Well, where you going?

Come here. Come. Come here.

Where do you think
you're going, huh?

(IRIS LAUGHING)

Oh, you're gonna tease, eh?
You're gonna tease, eh?

You're gonna tease, eh? Huh?

Think you're gonna get
away from me, huh?

(IRIS LAUGHING)

You'll tear it.

(INDISTINCT CONVERSATIONS)

(GUNSHOTS)

I'll be a son of a bitch.

(SCREAMING)

(PEOPLE SCREAMING)

(INDISTINCT CHATTERING)

- Hymie Weiss, huh?
- Who else?

Well, he just made
his last mistake.

I told him he's worse than the damn
dagos, trying to take over everything.

He can't even run his own
candy store, for chrissakes.

At his direct order,

your two friends were
brutally murdered.

Because his tirapiedi,

Antonio Lombardo, is head
of the Unione Siciliano.

You and I,

we pay heavily for raw alcohol.

He has bombed my places,

murdered my brother,

shoots down my men
in the streets.

So, why come to me?

We could join forces, work together
to rid ourselves of this demente.

Nothing personal, Mr. Aiello,

but I don't trust none
of you grease balls.

You're all alike. First you come
on with the soft soap, big smile,

then you slip a shiv
in a man's back.

As businessmen, we can ill afford
the luxury of prejudice, Mr. Moran.

Separately, he can destroy us.

Work together and
Alphonse Capone

is a dead man.

MAN: Tonight I'm going to eat
it the way I wanna eat it.

(LAUGHTER)

McGURN: Charlie, what
are you gonna do?

CHARLIE: I don't know. I thought
maybe you can, uh, help me out.

FRANK: No one can help you out.
CHARLIE: Oh, come on.

(INDISTINCT CONVERSATIONS)

(SHOUTING IN ITALIAN)

(SPEAKING IN ITALIAN)

Who for?

Giuseppe Aiello.

Aiello.

(EXPLOSION)

Five years.

Five years those scumbags
been sticking it up my ass.

All I do is go to funerals.

My pal, Tony Lombardo.

I stood over his
coffin and I cried.

I cried like a baby.

And Patsy Lolordo.

They shoot him down,
right in his own house.

And me.

I'm having dinner with my friends. I'm
enjoying myself and what happens?

I get a little present
from Joe Aiello.

Poison!

What kind of way is
that to kill a person?

All right.

All right, we put a
stop to all this shit.

No more, "You knock off one of my
guys, I knock off one of your guys."

We're gonna get them all.
In one bunch. In one place!

Jesus Christ, Al, you're talking
about five, maybe 10 men.

- Yeah, well, I'll send them
flowers. - Don't do it, Al.

So help me God, it'll ruin us.

We'll have the fucking
National Guard after us.

Jake makes a lot of sense, Al. I mean,
we'd be out of business sure as hell.

McGURN: I'm with you all
the way when it comes

to hitting those bastards, boss.

Only I have to say one,
maybe two at a time.

What you're talking about
here is a massacre.

Frank, what do you say?

I say we do it your way.

This business of wiping
out the Moran mob,

- why did you go along with Al
on it? - Oh, wake up, Jake.

What did you expect me to do?
The man was a ticking bomb.

If one more of us had fucked him,
he'd have gone up like a skyrocket.

Talk to him, will you, Frank?

You, he'll listen to.
Will you talk to him?

He's changed, Jake.

He don't listen
anymore to nobody.

He stuffs himself like a fucking
pig, he takes crazy chances.

He'll put a hole in anybody
who looks cockeyed at him.

Can't you at least talk to him?

No, Jake. Not one word.

CAPONE: Is that all you
ever think about, Iris?

(GASPS)

Operator?

Superior-1094.

You know, when I was a
kid on Navy Street,

I used to dream. Even when
I was walking around.

I used to dream about all this.

Champagne,

beautiful blond,

silk sheets,

and now I got it all.

Ain't that amazing?

Do you ever feel guilty?

Guilty? What about?

About how you got all this?

Oh, you think that Rockefeller
guy feels guilty?

Huh? (SCOFFS)

Have you ever loved anyone, Al?

Yeah. I love a lot of people.

My mother, my father.

- A lot of people.
- Do you love me?

Sure.

You want me to love you?
I love you.

Well, lucky for you. Because if you
didn't, I'd have to have you knocked off.

(LAUGHING)

Come on, I made a
9:00 reservation.

Oh, I'm hungry.

As a matter of
fact, I'm starved.

CAPONE: Oh, yeah? Come
here, I'll feed you.

- Oh, no, you don't.
- Oh, yes, I will.

- Come on.
- Hey! Hey!

Now, be a good girl.

Be a good girl, huh?

(GIGGLING)

You're a good girl.

- Come here. Come here.
- No. Come on.

- Come here. - I want you
to take me out to dinner.

- And I want a French dinner.
- You're gonna get a French dinner.

(LAUGHING)

(INAUDIBLE)

- Now.
- (GUNSHOTS)

Come on, move it. Let's
get out of here.

Iris?

Oh, my God.

I am heartily sorry

for having offended thee

and I detest

all my sins...

(SHOUTING) Get an ambulance.

Because I dread

the loss of heaven

and the pains of hell.

(SOBBING)

But most of all,

because they offend
thee, my God.

(KNOCKING ON DOOR)

ETTELSON: Come in, gentlemen.
CAPONE: Good evening, Your Honor.

- Drink, Mr. Capone?
- Eh, not me.

With smart fellas like you,
I'm gonna keep a clear head.

- Al, you're among friends.
- Sam.

Mr. Capone, we're deeply concerned
with the recent wave of gang killings,

culminating last week in the tragic
death of the young Crawford woman.

We're aware that a certain amount
of violence is concomitant

on your type of business.

Oh, for chrissakes, Sam.

You're not only putting Al to sleep, you're
beginning to bore the shit out of me.

Just between us girls, Al...

I'm gonna be the next
mayor of our fair town.

And we've got this
world's fair coming up.

If we can clean up the
town's reputation.

We want it stopped, Al.

The killings, the bombings
and the senseless violence.

I'll tell you what you do, Tony.

You talk to the guys on the North
Side, then you come to me.

Moran was up here last night.

And sitting right where you are.

And he's agreed to cooperate, in
return for certain concessions.

Half the West Side suburb.

The Loop, north of Madison.

Ten percent of your
gambling profits.

(LAUGHING)

Are you sure you ain't
forgot something, Tony?

Like, maybe my
fucking underwear?

Your income will still
be enormous, Mr. Capone.

Yeah?

How long do you think
it'll stay that way?

CERMAK: One minute, Al.

Without us, you're out
of business. Completely.

Now, think it over.

I want you to think
something over.

You're gonna keep on playing
ball with me, you understand?

Because I got enough on every bastard
in this room to put you behind bars.

Goodnight, gentlemen.

The hell of it is,

that guinea son of
a bitch is right.

MAN: Try it over again.

- (DOG BARKING)
- (MAN CHUCKLING)

Hey, what the hell is this?

OFFICER: Come on,
get those hands up.

MAN 2: You lousy... Wait
till Moran hears about this.

OFFICER: Turn around.
Faces against the wall.

One phone call to the captain and
you guys got your ass in a sling.

We'll cut you in if you
forget the whole thing.

You got nothing on me,
I'm just a mechanic.

(DOG BARKING)

(DOG WHIMPERING)

CERMAK: Are you serious?

Want to get rid of him? How?

Put him on the spot?

FRANK: It'd be easier to
knock off President Hoover.

Al doesn't set foot out
without six bodyguards.

- I'm talking about
sending him up. - Prison?

With what he knows, he could take half
the politicians in this state with him.

Suppose somebody outside
the state nails him?

He's liable to shoot his mouth
off just for the hell of it.

Not if all he thinks he's gonna
get two, maybe three years

and come back and take
up where he left off.

When the big fella goes
up, who takes over?

I take over.

With you behind
me, I can't miss.

Payoffs still go to the right people
and the right man gets into office.

- I don't know. These
killings... - Finished.

No bullets, no bombs, no bodies.
That, I guarantee you.

You satisfy us on the way you get
rid of Capone and you're in.

- Now, who gets him and how?
- Uncle Sam gets him.

On income tax evasion.

How do you think it's
gonna go in there, Al?

Waste of time, instead of the
government trying to put me away

for running a business, they ought
to be putting all that effort

into getting rid of the
Reds and Bolsheviks

who are trying to take over
our wonderful country.

Hey, Al, what's this I hear? Is
Hollywood gonna make a movie about you?

They better not. I'll
take them to court.

Terrible thing. Terrible
thing, those gangster movies.

Our kids see come out of those
movies, what do they wanna be?

A president, a priest, a doctor?
No.

They wanna be some jerk with a
gun who says, "Stick them up."

What will be your
plea, Mr. Capone?

I don't know. That's
up to my attorney.

But afterwards, I'm
going back to my hotel,

take off my shoes

and put on some opera records.

Yeah.

To me, grand opera
is the berries.

REPORTER: Mr. Capone?

The defendant will rise.

It is the judgment of this
court that the defendant,

found guilty on three counts
of federal tax evasion,

is to pay a fine of $50,000.

Plus an additional
$30,000 in court costs.

(GAVEL POUNDS)

Furthermore, it is the judgment
of this court that said defendant

shall be sentenced to a
federal penitentiary

for a term not to
exceed 11 years.

(INDISTINCT CONVERSATIONS)

WARDEN: Neurosyphilis?

Appears to be a
long-standing condition,

presently at the tertiary
stage of paresis.

- What's the prognosis?
- Proper treatment,

which we can't give him here,

will delay its progress.

Eventually, it'll kill him.

But his mind will go first.

Hey, Al.

Hey, Al. You all right, Al?

Al, you all right?

(GRUNTS)

(INDISTINCT SHOUTING)

(GRUNTING)

(BELL RINGING)

Frank. Frank.

Charlie.

- I didn't expect you so soon.
- Yeah.

Charlie, shake hands with Tony
Amatto, Tony is my right-hand man.

S'abbenedica.

Tony, been hearing some
great things about you.

- Come on in. Come on in.
- Tony.

Charlie, Charlie.
I'm real proud.

How's your health, Charlie?

Well, it's not bad. It's
great living out here.

I put on a little
weight, though.

Where is everybody?

Uh, they're in
Miami for the day.

Al... Al's out at
the pool, though.

How's he doing?

He's getting worse every day.

Listen, maybe you wanna
wash up, have a drink?

Later, Charlie. First I wanna
pay my respects to Al.

Al.

- FBI, eh? - FRANK:
Al, it's Frank.

(CHUCKLING)

It's about time you
guys showed up.

All the letters I been writing
to Hoover, what do I get back?

A big horse laugh.

You tell Hoover all those
banks being stuck up,

decent people being kidnapped,

it's the Bolsheviks, they're
trying to take over the country.

You tell him that.

I'll tell him, Al.

Fucking politicians all
got their hands out.

(SHOUTING) A guy tries to set up
a little business, sell a little beer,

they call him public
enemy number one.

Is that nice?

AMATTO: I sure would've liked to have
known the big fella back in the old days.

Said he was one hell
of a smart man.

Capone?

Smart?

Bullshit. He was stupid.
He was an animal.

All he knew were guns, Tony.

That's what put him on top and that's
how he figured to stay on top.

This guy, he was so fucking busy pumping
bullets in the guy across the street

that he forgot something.

The same thing Johnny
Torrio forgot.

That the guy, the guy you
really gotta watch out for,

he isn't across the
street at all.

He's the bum standing on
the same ladder you are.

- Right behind you. - I'll
sure remember that, Mr. Nitti.

FRANK: Do that.

It's kind of hot. Why don't
you take your jacket off.

You're liable to catch a cold.

Thank you, Tony.

Ah, Johnny, you
shouldn't have run out.

Business is worth millions.
You should've stayed.

Helped me out.

Well... (SIGHS)

I'm getting my wind
back, thank God.

And when I'm happy, I
never feel snappy.

So put the money there, boys.

Put it right there. The
treasury needs money.

Put it in.

Hymie, put it in.

I'm telling you for the last time.
(SHOUTING) Put it in!

Now, you know what
happened to O'Banion.

He never delivered the flowers.

(LAUGHING)

Jesus, Ma.

They put handcuffs on my legs.

What did they do that for?

Ah, I won't get it dirty, Ma.

Best communion
suit on the block.

Shut up.

I said, shut up!

CAPONE: I'm gonna pay.

Just leave me alone.

Fucking Bolsheviks.

Fucking Bolsheviks!