Original subtitles

There will come a time when the world is ready for me,

when nation will battle nation, when race will devour race,

when brother will kill brother...

until not a soul is left.

Are you ready?

And on that day, a leader will arise

and set all the kingdoms to war

and all the races one against the other...

...a day when the dark powers are coming into alignment

and the world is ready to burn.

And all it will take...

is one final...

spark.

-Any other music? -I like this one.

You always like the sad ones.

-That boy. -Hey!

You leave him be.

But why trouble yourself with him, hmm? With any of them?

What are they but frightened animals

in the mud, scratching for more mud,

fully unworthy of your devotion and care?

I'll prove it to you, just wait.

How will you do that?

By letting them be who they are.

By making all their dreams come true.

By whispering to them.

All mankind needs to be the monster he truly is

is being told he can.

Will you try to stop me?

I have no heart for the living.

For anything.

Now open your arms, sister.

I'll give you many souls today.

Papa! Papa! No! No!

Papa!

Papa!

Papa!

Mama, you shouldn't have.

Stop. You'll like my cake.

-Ay. -Ay!

Let Tiago. This isn't your night.

-Tiago, cut the cake. I'm starving. -Because you never eat.

He eats all the time. He's a pig.

-Then why am I so goddamn hungry? -Muchacho, language.

-Ready? -Yes.

Yay! Bravo!

Tiago, show us already. I'm dying.

-It's just a piece of cheap tin. -Stop it.

What? You can get them at Walsh for a nickel, right?

Show us.

I'm so proud of you.

Ma.

It's yours as much as it's mine.

Thank you, Mama.

You don't know how proud I am...

this night, for our family.

Hey...the boy in blue.

That it?

Come on.

Detective Santiago Vega.

-I guess, congratulations. -I guess, thanks for coming.

Hell, you'll be a gringo before you know it.

Raul, be proud for your brother.

I'm not gonna pretend to be proud of my brother--

You want him in the cannery

or working the fields?

Your brother made a life.

Respect that.

Okay.

Sorry, Tiago. Okay?

-It's been a long day. -Mm.

Let's have a drink, huh? Yeah? Huh?

Everyone, I wanna make a toast.

Get a glass.

So everyone lift your glass to--sorry, Mom--

Detective Tiago fucking Vega.

Detective Tiago fucking Vega!

You're nervous about starting work.

-You know, I got a good partner. -Hmm.

-It's hard there, hmm? -I'm used to it.

But a Chicano patrolman is one thing.

A detective...no one very much likes it.

Hey. You earned your badge.

That's not how they see it.

You are the first Chicano detective

in the Los Angeles Police Department.

You wear that badge proudly,

and you help the next man up.

He helps the next one. That's what we do, eh?

Monday, huh?

Monday morning those machines start up?

How they look at me.

Like they got teeth.

Can't stop progress, I guess.

Raul sure tried.

They got an injunction now.

He's going to the city council tomorrow.

Might as well plow the ocean.

Maybe.

You know...this night, your badge...

...tu papá would be proud.

I mean it, Tiago.

He sees you tonight.

I gotta get my bus.

Taxi!

-Yeah? Yes? -Rise and shine.

We got some butchery down the river.

I'll be there in 15 minutes, give or take.

-What, today? -Yeah, today.

I don't understand it either.

-I don't start until Monday. -Guess what, slick.

You start in 15 minutes.

-Why us? -Like I know?

But Vanderhoff called me himself.

Not the watch commander?

Vanderhoff himself.

-Jesus. -Fuck, right.

-Detective Michener. -So what gets us up so goddamn early?

And on our day off, no less.

Better just see.

Let's see him.

Steady, partner. Take a breath.

Well...

I guess I should say,

"Welcome to Homicide, Detective Vega."

Chest wounds look like a knife or an ax maybe.

Fucking faces...that's makeup.

This some Hollywood Max Factor bullshit?

Sir, there's one thing more.

"You take our heart, we take yours."

Well, I guess we know why they called us.

This is some spic thing.

They took the hearts.

Pal, our day off is officially fucked.

As wild and lawless a town

as was ever found in the Old West. Sergeant...

If we join the club, we get a badge. The Green Hornet gave us a ring.

-Why do you want a badge? -Dad, everyone wants a badge.

I don't understand all the snow. How can there be a blizzard every episode?

-Morning, Maria. -Sir.

There's a blizzard because it's the Yukon.

-Are we having huevos rancheros? -Sí, Tom.

Muchas gracias, Señora Vega.

What do you know about blizzards?

-You've never even seen snow. -Neither have you.

Can we go see snow in the Yukon?

We should go to the Yukon!

-Ma'am. -Did you bring the laundry?

Yes, ma'am.

-What is that noise? -Sergeant Preston of the Yukon.

-We're going there. -We are not.

-Yes, we are. -Boys, please.

Peter, you're going to be late. You know how traffic is on Fridays.

-Wait till they open the new road. -Then I'll just fly.

You have to drive really fast on it.

It's going to have three lanes and bridges and tunnels.

Behave yourselves, boys, hmm? Don't play the wireless too loud.

-Radio. -Radio.

Have a good day, my dear.

-Be smart in school, Trevor. I love you. -Love you too.

And you, young Tom, we'll find the Yukon on the map

and then we'll look at it together. Hmm? How 'bout that?

-I love you. -Bye, Dad.

Maria, a word.

Mrs. Craft needs to rest today, yeah.

And, um...

she should not perhaps take any alcohol.

You might let me know.

Yes, sir.

How are your children?

Good, sir.

Any sicknesses, you come to me, hmm?

Thank you, sir.

While the children slept,

we played bridge.

While the children slept, we played "bwidge."

As we played bridge,

the children slept.

As we played bridge, the children slept.

Try bluing on that.

It won't work, but you'll feel a real sense of accomplishment.

Then throw the fucking thing away.

Hey, Pancho, got any more of that hair oil?

Got a date with this señorita down Belvedere way,

wanna look me all pachuco.

Hey, Pancho, you hear me?

-That's Detective Pancho. -Fuck you, Michener.

-No, fuck you, Riley. -Hey, leave it.

You crack wise one more fucking time,

my tongue might just slip about that little girl of yours in Sonoratown.

Go on, one more time.

It was a fucking joke, Lewis.

Jesus, you two.

-You don't need to do that. -Fuck, I don't.

I can speak for myself.

Then do so.

Come in.

Maid called in a missing persons this morning:

two adults and two juveniles.

We brought her by the morgue, and she identified your bodies.

James Haslet and family.

From Beverly Hills.

633 North Canon Drive.

-Fuck. -No kidding.

So we got four rich white victims in the fucking L.A. River.

This gets out, we're looking at a damn race war.

You don't know how much I wish those bodies were Mexican.

No offense.

None taken.

But we don't know it was Mexicans that killed them.

I saw the pictures, Detective.

I know what Spanish writing looks like.

Maybe it's pachucos.

What do a bunch of JDs want with Beverly Hills?

We'll check the house, sir. Thanks.

Breathe in. Breathe out.

Nice and deep.

Ah, that's it. That's it. Okay, yeah.

One more time for me. Deep breath now, Frank.

You see how it is with him,

how he suffers?

Oh, I've seen this before, Mrs. Brenson. This is no cause for panic, you see.

I don't want a shot.

You're not going to get a shot, young man.

But if you're a very good boy, let me talk to your mother here,

my nurse outside will give you a lollipop

and maybe even a Lone Ranger book to color in.

Hmm? How does that sound?

-May I? -Yeah.

Yeah, of course.

I'll be right out.

And what do you say to Dr. Craft?

Thank you, sir.

He's a good boy, Mrs. Brenson.

Most often asthma is brought on by simple allergies we can treat.

It breaks my heart.

And my husband, he does not understand Frank.

He has no-no patience, you see.

Uh, you know...

anxiety is often a trigger for respiratory distress.

Is Frank subject to any special tensions?

Where are you from?

Essen.

I am Berlin. I was Berlin.

Now I'm Boyle Heights with the Jews.

It is hard for us there-- for me and Frank.

It is difficult in this place for us.

My husband, he is American.

He's like all Americans here.

What is that?

He listens to the wrestling on the radio. He drinks his beer.

He is curious about nothing. He knows nothing.

My husband says I have to be American.

My husband...

Does he hurt you?

Does he hurt the boy?

Ah, you poor girl.

You are a kind man.

If only we had met in Essen.

We'll-we'll, um...

We'll, uh, meet again in a week.

Anyway, I, um...

I wanna start a series of, uh, allergy tests on Frank.

So...uh, next Friday, ja?

Ja, good.

Thank you, Dr. Craft.

I think I've soiled your handkerchief.

Oh, keep it, please.

A gift...from Essen to Berlin.

Ja, good.

Next Friday, then.

Do you want me to bring you something for lunch, Doctor?

Uh, no, I'm going out.

Thank you, Laura.

You will be ejected!

You will be ejected. I will have order.

Sergeant at arms, eject those people.

No more pictures! Get them out!

You can't bar the press, Charlton. It's a public hearing.

I can do whatever the hell I want. Eject them!

We will have no more outbursts or intemperate language.

The transportation committee has voted in favor

of construction of the Arroyo Seco motorway.

The city council has approved the recommendation.

The municipal court has overturned the injunction.

So construction will continue Monday morning as planned.

If any member of the public would like

to speak in opposition to the council's actions,

they may do so in modest and economical terms.

I am Raul Vega.

And I speak on behalf of the Belvedere Heights Community Action Group,

the Congress of Industrial Organizations,

and the Cannery Workers Union, Local 417--

I know who you are, Mr. Vega. Keep your remarks short.

Short as one question, Mr. Townsend.

Where are we supposed to go?

Where are you supposed to go?

When your new motorway destroys our homes...

our community, our church, and our livelihood...

...where are we supposed to go?

Where you came from is not a bad answer.

I was born in Los Angeles County Hospital,

Mr. Townsend, as I believe were you.

Don't you dare bandy words with me.

You would build a motorway that cuts through the heart

of Belvedere Heights...

through the house where my mother lives,

through her kitchen,

through the shops and the cannery that are our jobs,

all so that you could drive to Pasadena with no stop signs.

What, sir, would you say if I was to put a motorway through your kitchen?

I would say, "You can't stand in the way of progress."

When progress becomes barbarity,

it ceases to be in the public interest.

We are the public, sir, no matter the color of our skin.

-We will not be moved. -Then you will be pushed.

Then the blood will be on your hands.

Don't threaten me with your goddamn--

This our home!

We will fight for it, as good Americans have always done.

And yeah, hermanos.

Show them our will!

Officers, clear the chamber! Eject them!

We will have no Bolshevik agitation here!

Eject them!

And that's how you conduct a meeting.

-You showed 'em, sir. -Damn right.

You can't be weak with these Latins. Their culture's all about machismo.

You show them the whip, they back down.

As if a bunch of taco stands and donkeys

can stand in the way of the city of Los Angeles.

Exactly right, sir.

But a little less of that.

"Taco stands" and "donkeys."

You don't need that language to get what you want.

You're going to win, so you don't give

those bastards in the press any easy ammunition.

You did magnificently today.

You were a strong man.

-Mussolini. -Mussolini.

Hitler, even.

Now there's a fellow who understands the judicious exercise of power.

That's right.

Now you just have to stay the course and keep quiet.

You held the public hearing as your civic duty required.

You've won. We'll get this first motorway under construction

and then start working on another one.

Keep your transportation committee front and center, keep you in the papers.

-Another motorway? -Maybe through Bunker Hill.

That's the colored's--

No, sir, what that is, is too much valuable real estate

filled with junkies and jig-whores.

Not when there's a motorway to be built.

Motorway going where?

Does it matter?

Also, sir, I've scheduled a meeting for this afternoon,

something rather special.

-What would I do without you? -What indeed, sir.

-Can I ask you something? -Shoot.

Why'd you take me as your partner?

-Seriously? -Yeah.

'Cause no one else wanted you.

Now can I ask you a question?

How come you never wear a hat?

I want everybody to know I'm Chicano.

Lewis...

...I know what it was, the painting on the faces.

It's Day of the Dead makeup, honoring Santa Muerte.

Which is what the fuck, exactly?

Folk religion from the peasants in Mexico.

Santa Muerte's the angel of holy death.

She's the one who brings dead people to heaven.

Oh, she's the one who does that.

They built this whole religion around her,

her and the other holy angels and devils.

-So it's Mexicans for sure. -We don't know that.

Well, true, there wasn't an actual mariachi band at the crime scene.

Let me talk to my mother about it. She knows all about Santa Muerte.

-Why's that? -She thinks she's a witch.

Oh, shut the fuck up.

It's a strange ol' world.

Hello, fellow Americans.

Hello, fellow Angelinos.

We are the German American Bund.

I promise not to ruin your lunch hour. I'm on mine too.

My name is Peter Craft.

And I live not too far from here.

I have two boys.

Tom and Trevor, they are called,

and I will do anything to keep them safe.

So if there's a fight down the street, I keep my boys out of it.

Why should their noses get bloodied in someone else's fight?

Hmm? What is it to do with us?

This country has a duty

to keep its children safe too.

And yet I hear so much talk

about America going down the street

and getting involved in someone else's fight.

Surely, Europe is Europe

and America is America.

Why should we throw our children into the quarrels

of nations so many miles distant

and so very alien to us?

What has it to do with America?

Look around you, my friends.

The sun is shining, you drink a milk carton or a soda pop,

you eat a frankfurter...

which you can thank my people for inventing, by the way.

Ja. Ah, with mustard.

Oh, and sauerkraut over there. Even--ah, I see you.

So let's enjoy our life here

and leave the Old World to itself.

I say America first.

America always.

Peace above all.

Come on, let's go.

One motorcycle, that's it?

We keep things discreet here in Beverly Hills.

So they're true believers, I take it.

It is our sacred duty

to spread the good word far and wide.

All across this land, I see unhappiness and strife

and thousands of aching hearts crying out

for the embrace of their loving Father.

This, brothers and sisters, is why I've--

These fucking cultists now.

I'll take upstairs.

Look for blood.

Don't forget the drains.

No bloodletting upstairs.

Or here, no forced entry.

Haslet was an elder in the church

or whatever lunatic thing they call the big pooh-bahs there.

He was building the Arroyo Seco, his company.

"You take our heart, we take yours."

Councilman Townsend... I am Richard Goss

of the building-architecture firm Goss and Ossenberg.

-How do you do? -Mr. Goss.

Thanks for meeting here.

Our dear Alex thought discretion was advisable.

And why's that?

A gift from the Fuehrer.

My firm is doing some work on the Reich Chancellery,

making everything more...monumental.

We've also done much work on the autobahn,

the motorways of Germany, this is, for many years now.

Oh, I get it. You wanna start building motorways here.

Only we can't hire foreign companies

'cause of national security concerns.

This is of no matter. Really, sir, what we want is

to make you the mayor of Los Angeles.

You are a man we believe with whom we can work.

I'm one member of the city council.

That's all. Mayor is a long way off--

Not that far, especially if we keep

the transportation committee in the public eye,

get you on the radio more.

Allow us to help.

And in return?

More motorways for us to build, some government contracts

skirting perhaps some of the military's more onerous regulations.

What we want is a sympathetic ear, no more.

-For which you'll pay. -Indecently.

You see, we believe this place is the future of America.

What is New York but a filthy remnant

of Old World beliefs filled with rat peddlers?

But Los Angeles...

this is a place where a man can live under the sun

and spread his arms...

where there's breathing room.

The Fuehrer looks here and dreams.

Do you know what I did yesterday

under specific orders from Berlin?

I measured streets,

selecting that one which is most appropriate for a victory parade,

wide enough for our panzer tanks.

It's Wilshire Boulevard, by the way.

-You got big plans. -They're more than plans.

This is happening, sir, as we speak, all over the city.

We have agents in the aircraft factories,

in the ports, in the film studios.

You sure you should be telling me this? What if I go to the FBI?

You see my driver there?

He's Gestapo. Do you know what that is?

If he doesn't see this conversation end with a handshake,

I've instructed him to take his gun and shoot you through the head.

And we'll have to find another candidate for mayor, alas.

I won't betray my country.

Of course you will.

Now I must be going.

It has truly been my pleasure, Mr. Townsend.

Or shall I say, Your Honor?

The pleasure was mine, sir.

Heil Hitler.

-What the fuck-- -Mateo, stop! Leave him alone.

-What are you-- -Get the fuck out!

Stop it! Don't!

Stop it!

She's in high school, you pervert, shithead! I'll never see you again!

Mateo, he wasn't doing anything.

-You're not my father! -Hey!

Josefina, no more. Inside now!

Fucking bastard was feeling her up.

No more! No more words like that.

You were raised for better than fighting in the street.

Yeah, like sweeping up for three dollars a week?

You'll do more.

Like the cannery or-or maybe cleaning out toilets? Huh?

This is it. There is no more.

If I thought that,

we'd still be living in the barrio.

You'll make your way up, mijo.

This is America.

You keep dreaming your dreams, Mama,

and maybe Santa Muerte will make them come true one day.

But for the rest of us...

...who wants a spic?

Look at you, all grown up.

Mama, you got a minute?

Walk with me.

So you heard anything from Santa Muerte lately?

You don't believe. Why are you asking?

Someone in the bruja community, I mean,

something I should know about,

maybe some of violence, some kind of curse.

Santa Muerte doesn't curse.

She's a holy angel.

She guide us peacefully to heaven.

She didn't guide my father so peacefully.

You were too young. You don't remember.

He died burning in agony, Mom. What don't I remember?

What did you want, Santiago?

There's been some trouble, very bad,

and it looks like Mexicans.

I just want you to keep your eyes open and let me know

if there's any special Santa Muerte rituals going on,

black masses, anything with the brujas.

From this religion you don't believe in.

-That's right. -From this holy angel

who touched your shoulder and marked you?

-Please. -When are you going to believe the truth

that is written on your own skin?

Not tonight.

So you'll help me out?

Listen for anything to do with Santa Muerte?

I'll do what I can.

But you have to think about something.

This angel that you don't believe in,

you might need her one day.

What do you do then?

Come on.

You dance with your mother now.

These old men can't keep up.

And so he grabbed him by the neck--huh--

dragged him out like fucking Tarzan.

-Little Mateo? -I swear.

He was like Johnny Weissmuller, huh?

Screaming, "You pervert" this,

"You fuckhead" that,

"You don't touch the tit of my sainted sister."

Hey, Mateo, you bust that pervert good, huh?

Oh, you're so funny.

He was feeling her up with every fat mama in town watching.

Oh, come on, like you never felt up a girl in high school.

She's our sister. She's not just some girl.

Jesus. Mama burned my ass, though.

You working Monday?

Monday? No.

The Angels are playing. I can get you tickets.

Maybe you take Josefina, buy her something nice.

Stop it, Tiago.

-He shouldn't be there. -You shouldn't be there.

-It's my job. -It's your job to tear down our house?

-They're not tearing down our house. -Not yet.

Look, Monday morning, those bulldozers start up.

This is it, Raul. I'm sorry, but this is it.

You know where they are...

those machines?

At the empty lot across from the laundry,

where we used to play Tom Mix.

They're calling in men from precincts all over the goddamn city.

-We'll be ready. -Keep Mateo out of it.

-I can make up my own mind. -Shut the fuck up!

If we let them push us out here, where does it end?

-When we're back in Mexico? -That's done.

No one's talking about deporting anyone, Raul.

-But this is how it starts! -Come on.

You know what? You're so goddamned concerned, Tiago,

maybe you oughta go to the Angels game

instead of fucking your people one more time.

You go against the cops, they'll shoot you down like animals.

That's what you are to them.

And what are you?

Where's your heart, Tiago?

Fay Thomas is pitching Monday. You oughta think about it.

What a pleasant surprise. What the fuck are you doing here?

I'm not coming tomorrow.

-Say again? -I'm not coming.

It's our precinct.

You heard the captain. We all gotta be there.

I can't.

So let me establish this to my understanding.

It's your second day on the job, and you're not gonna be there?

Playing a quick nine at the Wilshire Country Club, are you?

-I don't expect you to understand. -We got four bodies in the morgue,

we got a fucking race riot all scheduled for tomorrow,

and you're taking the day off?

Listen, pal, in this life,

you're a cowboy or you're an Indian.

You better fucking choose.

Holy angel, mother of death, hear my plea.

Holy angel, mother of death, hear my...

Holy angel, mother of death, hear my plea.

Holy angel, mother of death, hear my plea.

Mother of death, hear my plea.

Holy angel, mother of death, hear my plea.

Holy angel, mother of death, hear my plea.

Old coyote, why do you wake me?

I need your help.

There is evil walking now.

I can feel it.

If you're dying, I will come to you.

But if your leg is in a trap, you must chew it off yourself.

I will see you in your final moment... old coyote.

Please help me.

Please, please help me.

Help me, please. Help.

There is a prophecy.

A time will come

when nation will battle nation,

when race will devour race,

when brother will kill brother...

...until not a soul is left.

And is that time now?

-Who can say? -You can.

But there are so many corpses to gather.

Everywhere I look...

And every step I take...

I wade through that agony.

I have no heart to care for man.

No. Please, no.

The time you speak of is now, and it's here, right here.

We have to do something!

Don't ask me, coyote.

You slept too long!

Enough.

There is a great battle coming, and it's here!

And we need you here, and we need you now!

Will you sleep

as your bitch of a sister conquers--

-Mama? -Will you be there tomorrow?

When that construction starts.

-No, I-I decided-- -You have to.

-Santa Muerte spoke to me. -Jesus.

She chose you!

You'll lie to yourself but not to me.

This is who you are.

Tomorrow, you have to stop it,

whatever it takes.

Or?

It all ends in blood or in fire.

You saw her. You know it happened.

Santa Muerte chose you.

You couldn't save your father. Maybe you can save yourself.

Well, good morning, sunshine.

Couldn't get a tee time at Wilshire?

-I'm sorry about all that. -Forget it, partner.

I'm glad you're here.

You will disperse. This is an illegal action.

We will have no disobedience.

If you do not disperse,

you will be arrested.

You will disperse.

You know how many times I've fired my weapon in the job?

Never.

Whatever you're about to do, don't.

I used to play on this street.

You don't anymore.

What's this now?

You all know me. I grew up there. That's-that's my house.

You know that.

So listen to me.

You need to go home now.

No matter what you think, no matter what you hope,

you can't stop this!

Por favor.

Por favor.

Shame!

Stay down! Stay down now!

No.

Raul!

Raul!

Raul!

Raul, no!