Original subtitles

(squealing)

(whistling)

(screaming)

What the hell are you staring at?

Someone who sublimates his seething resentment

of a society-imposed celibacy

by wearing offensive and morally bankrupt clothing.

Oh, so, you like the new jacket?

They threw in a pair of spotted underpants.

Don't you mean spotted owl underpants?

Hey, like I suddnely care about brand names.

And, by the way, if you're hinting

at some kind of politically incorrect insensitivity here--

I'll have you know that all these seals

died of natural causes-- brain hemorrhages or something.

You realize, of course,

those seals were somebody's children.

Corny, if there's one piece of advice I can give you, it's this--

Never order buttery topping

after ticking off the popcorn vendor

at a movie theater.

Oh. Right.

Well, speaking of children,

did I tell you mine are demanding a vacation now?

Hard to believe, isn't it?

Like every day with me isn't vacation enough?

Hmm... some kilbasa.

From Easter, I believe.

Mr. Duckman, a vacation is

the perfect opportunity to get away

from your everyday worries and troubles.

In fact, Fluffy and I were thinking

about asking for one ourselves.

We've worked 11 years

without a vacation.

11 long years.

Oh, my heavens.

Do allow me to apologize for this unthinkable oversight

by offering you an all-expense-paid trip

to one of the world's most popular hot spots--

BOTH: Oh!

As I was saying, Corny, you should thank

your lucky stars you don't have any kids.

Dad...

Who are you

and why are you squeezing the pleats out of my pants?

My name is Ng. You are my father.

"Ng," huh?

How do you spell that? N-G.

What a pretty "nm." You live, on "mn" street?

Here. Go buy yourself a vowel.

I'm sorry, Ng. As much as the prospect intrigues me,

I couldn't possibly be your father.

Of course he couldn't!

Up until he took a couple of boob-a-licious twins

back to their place last year for a little (squeaking)

he'd never, you know, pickled the old herring.

To be honest, I still haven't. What?

What happened with the twins?

I fainted when they took off their sneakers.

NG: You mean...

I've traveled all this way

just to find out you're not my father?

Wait a minute... the war.

(explosions and gunfire)

There was someone.

The details are fuzzy

but I remember a woman named Mai Lin

whose sole desire was to pleasure me

in unspeakable and often degrading ways

using mah-jongg tiles

and a strange vibrating bamboo device.

Mai Lin... that's my mother.

Did I mention she was a fine cook?

Well, Ng-man, Ng-erewski, the Ng-meister...

welcome to the clan.

Go into the back room.

Inside my monogrammed enema bag

there's 12 bucks, a fake mustache,

and a Saudi Arabian passport.

Take them and start a new life.

Duckman, I don't think you understand what this means.

Ng is my progeny, my family, my litter.

You can't just throw away your litter.

Well, you know what I mean.

I finally have someone to carry on my name.

I'm a father, Duckman.

This is the happiest moment of my life.

Come on, son.

We've got some catching up to do.

Oh, it is kind of nice for the little guy.

He should get a chance at it, too.

After all, in the end, there isn't anything

like the happiness you get from being part of a family.

It's not fair!

We want to go!

We deserve a vacation!

Duckman, you promised your kids last year

you'd take them on vacation.

And, kids, what did I tell you about promises?

ALL: They don't count for family, friends

and other people who won't hurt you.

But I want to go on vacation.

I'd love to take a vacation, but they're just too expensive.

Maybe we could visit that place by the train tracks

with the burnt tires and smoldering oil drums.

That's our backyard, dear.

The idea would be to get away.

Oh.

Sorry I didn't knock.

The neighbors had opened your front door so they could hear

your argument better.

They do take an interest.

Last week, they helped us paint our house.

Dad, they sprayed "get out" on our living room window.

Whatever. It's the thought that counts, son.

Be that as it may, I have an annoucement to make:

Though I just spent the best day of my life

with a boy who claims to be my son,

deep down inside burns a desire to learn the truth.

Therefore, as painful as it might be,

I've decided to go back to his country

and find little Ng's mother, in order to determine

whether or not I'm his real father.

It's the most important journey I've ever made

and because I may need the moral support

of my best friend and partner

I'm here to ask you to come with me, Duckman.

Gee, I've got this thing.

Besides, don't you think it's a tad selfish

to ask me to risk my life

by trekking through unknown horrors

in the wartorn jungles

of a possibly still anti-American country?

I'll spring for the airfare.

Then again, I could use a tan. Wait a minute.

Free airfare, two-dollar hotels...

pack your bags, kids.

We are going on vacation!

(all cheering)

Uh, Duckman, I wasn't planning on paying for all of you.

Of course you weren't.

I wouldn't ask you to do that.

We'll leave Grandma-ma with a neighbor.

(farting)

CORNFED: Strange...

last time I made this trip, it was as a young man

naively certain I was doing my duty for a country

that neither believed in the war

nor would appreciate my efforts when I returned.

DUCKMAN: Inconceivable!

An unconscionable travesty!

There's, like, two peanuts in here.

Anyway, it would all be worth it

if it meant having something as special as a son.

Uncle Corny, did you win any medals in the war?

One or two.

Excuse me, but I happen to be a war hero, too.

You? Hah!

You couldn't get into the Salvation Army.

(laughing)

Fine. Laugh if you will,

but if I wasn't in the war, where did I get this?

From the table dancer who didn't like where you

tried sliding your credit card.

Okay. Then explain this.

Mmm... ravioli.

All right, all right.

What about this?

(all gasping)

Aha!

A souvenir of war, my friends

and I remember exactly how I got it.

So these are the dank, guerilla-infested jungles

of Southeast Asia.

No, this is still the plane.

I couldn't stir up any memories.

But I know I was there-- why can't I remember?

Sometimes when you experience

something grotesque and horrifying,

your brain works to repress it.

(screams): Who are you?

(laughing)

I see what you mean.

("Flight of the Valkyries" playing)

That music... I've heard it before.

(reveille playing)

(snoring)

(screaming)

(grunting)

(as Marlon Brando): You have no right to judge me.

You have the right to kill me, but you've no right to judge me.

No, wait. Reverse that.

Judge me. Don't kill me.

Yeah, that seems better.

For no man is an island,

though some are roughly the same size as one.

I coulda been somebody.

I coulda been a contender...

Senator Corleone, Governor Corleone.

Props, we need more butter.

General Zod, Krypton will be destroyed.

Right.

Well, you've obviously got a lot of psychotic ranting to do.

I'll just get out of your hair... uh, scalp.

(screaming)

No! Come back, Wally.

We'll make fudge.

Why am I here rambling incoherently?

The money...

the money...

the money...

(yelling)

Wake up, you cretin! We're here!

Okay, okay, I'm awake!

I know.

But the dream-- it was so real,

like something is starting

to come back to me.

Who gives a hamster's hind end?

Let's go, kids, and remember not to leave anything.

Before you climb down,

I want you to know

when I step off this plane

things may get emotional for me

but it helps to know that you'll be by my side

every step of the way.

Look, they're going

to Euro-Asia Land!

(cheering)

Euro-Asia Land, here we come!

Or I could meet up with you when I stop bleeding.

* Can't seem to get my mind off of you *

* back here at home with nothing to do *

* I see I'm strong *

* And I'm not so strong *

* I should have known all along *

* That time would tell *

* Whole week without you *

* Thought I'd forget *

* Two weeks without you *

* And I still haven't gotten over you yet *

* Vacation, all I ever wanted *

* Vacation, had to get away *

* Vacation's meant to be spent alone *

* Vacation, all I ever wanted *

* Vacation, had to get away *

* Vacation's meant to be spent alone... *

Remember, kids, we're goodwill ambassadors.

Let's represent our country with pride.

Hey, rickshaw, let's spring roll

into action!

My egg foo young'uns and me need a ride-- chop, chop!

What is this, the Year of the Snail?

I found it. I found her address.

I went to pick up a suit

I left at a local dry cleaners during the war

and her address was in the pocket.

She lives at 84 Charlie Mopic-- or did.

I've never been so nervous in my life, Duckman,

but I have a good feeling about this.

I just hope Ng is having fun getting to know his new home.

And this is Uncle Stuffy

the day he got caught in the lint trap.

AJAX: Dad, I'm hungry.

I haven't eaten anything

since those rancid brownies I found in the cow pasture.

It's not your father's fault, Ajax.

His decision to forgo the map

and get us there on gut instinct,

thereby rendering us lost,

was perfectly understandable.

But I'm thirsty.

And I have to pee.

Well, that works out perfectly, doesn't it?

Ew! Ew!

(chuckles, then grunts)

Hey, Dad, that sign says "Camp."

No, Ajax, it says...

Oh. Actually

it does say camp.

Sorry. Force of habit.

Come on.

BERNICE: This place makes my flesh crawl.

Look, that guy's in chains and shackles.

Don't knock it till you've tried it, son.

Wait a minute.

That headband.

(gun clicks, people gasp)

Uh... me? Already?

Well, I'm up for a new game.

Uh, a little parcheesi maybe?

Granted, it lacks the riveting tension

of imminent death, but the cleanup's easier.

(yelling)

Any chance that meant "Lose your turn"?

(yelling)

Mao, babe, how about lunch?

Click!

(gunshot)

(glass tinkling)

I didn't mean to! I didn't mean to!

(Duckman shrieks)

I'm having flashbacks from the war!

But why? What's happening to me?

I must have been traumatized.

Something terrible must have happened in the war

but I can't remember!

Why can't I remember?

(screaming)

Ironic-- each of us on his own mission

one paralleling and contrasting the other,

both desperate attempts to retrieve

lost memories of the war.

While I need to come to terms

with the possibility of a future

with a son I've never known,

Duckman is driven to resolve the past

and each must find his answer in the present,

thus forming the kind of wonderful literary construction

that would be at home in a great novel.

And to think-- Entertainment Weekly panned us.

Stay tuned.

There might even be a few clever plot twists left.

(yelling)

Told you.

CORNFED: We seem to be trapped

in one of the merciless torture-based P.O.W. camps

that our government says no longer exist.

What a relief. I've got to get us out.

I've got to get to Mai Lin and find out the truth about my son.

(Duckman screaming)

This place is making the flashbacks come again.

But it's worse now.

They're taking over,

reducing me to a quivering, helpless heap of Jell-o.

And we'll be able to tell the difference

from before how exactly?

I feel them coming on.

Please! Can't somebody do something?

(explosions, automatic gunfire)

You can't go back in, Private!

You'll never make it!

(as Forrest Gump): I got to, Lieutenant.

Some things are just too important to leave behind.

(groaning)

It's bad, Bubba. It's pretty bad.

You're my best friend, Bubba.

I've never had a best friend before.

'Specially one who wants to go

into the shrimpin' business with me after the war.

I'd do anything in the world to save your life,

except I can only carry one of you.

Oh, well, Mama always said

"Horny is as horny does."

Okay, Sarge!

I finished unclogging the septic tank, Sarge!

(screaming): No! Please!

Beat me, starve me, kill me

but don't give me the Cronauer torture!

(as Robin Williams): Good morning, Duckman!

Time to rock it from the Delta to the DMZ.

And do schtick that's supposed to be improv

but it's actually just the same stuff I always do.

People, people, work with me. Happy-time, Cong.

Just 'cause you're Red, don't be blue.

Oh, I love what you are doing with your hair-- sort of bangs.

You walking in, but your hair is waving good-bye.

This one's for you--

a little something I call "Viva Da Nang."

Thank you very much.

(as Gomer Pyle): Well, gollee!

Surprise, surprise, surprise!

* We represent the peacekeeping force *

* The peacekeeping force, the peacekeeping force... *

That's enough!

I'll tell you anything!

Just stop now!

Everybody down.

It's a chopper.

We're under attack!

What's going on?

While you were dissolving into a puddle of goo,

I fashioned a crude helicopter using an old blow-dryer motor

some palm fronds, and a few rubber bands

I found lying around the cell.

Let's go.

(machine gun cocks)

(screaming)

Got to see my boy again.

Thank you, Nordic Track.

(yells)

This is for you, son.

We love you, Cornfed!

Yippee!

Whoa, you're awesome.

(screaming)

Cut!

What the hell's going on?

You've destroyed my set

you idiot, you moron,

you pint-sized pile of bacon grease.

What do you have to say for yourself?

I'm rubber and you're glue.

DIRECTOR: A movie set is sacred, hallowed ground

and on that set a director is God.

My people would die for me-- which, of course, is required,

since I insist on complete authenticity

by using real, live ammunition.

What better way to denounce

war's senseless violence and killing

than to project the real thing onto a 40-foot screen

in all of its splendor and glory?

Ooh, it's time to gaze at my reflection.

Wait a minute!

A movie set.

It's coming back to me--

the trauma-- the thing I couldn't remember.

It was dark. Soldiers everywhere.

We must have been stationed

right in the heart of the action.

(applause and cheering)

Ten-hut. Listen up, everyone.

I, Duckman, projectionist extraordinaire,

have procured a special treat.

WOMAN: Maybe I can "cock your gun," Rambone.

Oh, my God.

What's going on here?

Let's get him, girls.

No! Don't hurt me!

Please! I bruise easily.

Let me get this straight.

Your trauma is that you were

a National Guard projectionist

and you were beaten up by female officers

'cause you showed a porno film?

(laughs hysterically)

What about the flashbacks?

P.S.A.W.F.T.S.--

Post-Southeast-Asia- War-Film-Trauma Syndrome.

I don't know why I didn't think of it before.

He was flashing back to scenes from the 60-odd movies

he's seen on the subject.

Wow. And the scar?

Probably where the film chafed me.

Hey, this is great.

Now I can put this whole thing behind me

and get on with my life.

Not so fast.

Who's to say that the mere mention of a war movie

won't send you into violent flashbacks?

That's ridiculous, Bernice. I'm cured.

Hamburger Hill.

(screaming)

I knew this would come in handy some day.

I'm glad Duckman solved...

I mean, "is dealing with" his problem

but I don't think I will ever find Mai Lin.

Cornfed?

Mai Lin, is it really you?

What are you doing here?

I'm a consultant on this movie.

It's about the most emotional

heart-wrenching period of my life.

And, if it's a hit, I get 12 gross points

and a piece of the merchandising.

Am I in it?

Of course, Cornfed.

(as Cornfed): Heidy-ho.

Not bad,

though he fails to fully capture my Ozark twang.

Mai Lin, I don't quite know how to ask you this.

I'm not very good at being direct on this subject.

When we knew each other, did we...

do the do? Net the nasty?

Join loins?

Dance the horizontal hora?

The wicked waltz? The naked two-step?

Pump pig iron?

Oh, Corny,

you're still a charmer.

But the answer is no, we didn't.

But a boy came into my office and said he was my son.

You're the only one it could possibly have been with.

I'm sorry, Corny.

Our relationship was an island

of beauty and culture

and friendship, in the middle

of all this death and destruction.

I'll always remember you

but we didn't sleep together.

I don't have a son.

I'm due back.

I'd like a chance to talk before you go.

Well, did you boff her or not?

Shut up,

you insensitive worm.

And if I don't?

I'll put you in a Full Metal Jacket!

In Country!

You'll be a Casualty of War on Jacob's Ladder

at The Hanoi Hilton with Bat 21!

Who'll Stop the Rain, Some Kind of Hero?

(screams): No!

Ng's not my son.

It was too good to be true.

I know how much this hurts me.

I can't imagine how he's gonna feel.

And here's Grandpa Urectal.

He fathered 33 children

until Grandma laced his cereal

with fabric softener.

Now that you've met

our blood relatives,

it's time to meet our extended family.

No!

Stop this torture! I beg you!

I'll confess.

I'll tell you everything.

My name's not "Ng."

It's Frank Nolan.

I steal pictures and run cons on pigs.

I'm just a scammer who uses their credit cards

to finance my way through dance school.

Please, take me to prison-- anything!

Just don't make me listen to any more!

(gasps)

(car horn beeps, then a thud)

I fought in one of history's most devastating wars.

Lives were lost, homes were destroyed

but one ember suddenly glowed

in the wake of all that destruction.

In the end, it's always about families being torn apart.

I thought it'd be nice

if, just once, a family was created out of war.

For a fleeting moment, I knew what it was like

to have a son to call my own.

I hope he knows no father could have loved him more.

I hope I get another chance to have a family.

I'm sorry, Cornfed.

I know how you must feel

but, always remember, you do have a family.

You have us.

(screaming)

Want some of the raisins

I found in that chicken coop, Uncle Cornfed?

(screaming continues)

Mai Lin, wait! We could start a family now.

It's not too late.

Mai Lin, please?

It'll only take a minute-- literally.

Mai Lin, think of what a child will do

for your movie's demographics!