Original subtitles

I am warning you, Vince.

You keep your filthy mouth and hands to yourself.

Hey, come here, baby. Come to me, now!

Why you rotten little...

You should keep this obnoxious punk out of here.

What's your name, mister?

It's not important.

It is if you don't want an unmarked grave.

Your mouth is about four inches taller

than you are, boy.

I asked you your name.

Ringo,

Johnny Ringo.

Well now, Vince,

you've been saying you're just as fast as Wes Hardin

and all those other hired guns?

They say Johnny Ringo's the fastest of them all.

Now's your chance to really show us.

Shut up.

Howdy, folks.

I'm the Old Ranger.

In 1880, the name Johnny Ringo

brought fear to most men.

Ringo was the most famous gunslinger of them all.

He was a college educated man,

an outlaw,

champion of the underdog,

and a gentleman.

Historians tell us

that the mysterious man named Ringo

harbored a tragic secret in his heart

which is why some called him...

Mr. Ringo,

I just wanted to thank you

for stepping in back there.

I've got an aversion to men who push women around.

It's just that gun,

Vince is always just itching to use it.

It's a disease.

I'm familiar with the type.

Yeah, he's about the best shot we have around here,

only he has never hurt anybody before

except once.

About a year ago, a saddle tramp came riding through

and Vince outdrew him, killed him.

Why doesn't somebody pin a medal on him?

My name is Myra, Myra Engles.

It's a pleasure, Miss Engles.

Ringo.

You shouldn't have hit me, Ringo.

You had it coming.

Now, don't be fool, boy.

It isn't worth it.

Now, you listen to me, boy.

You just turn around and forget it, you hear?

Look at those men behind you.

Is it worth it to get yourself killed

to give them a vicarious thrill?

They say you're fast, Ringo.

Did they mean your gun or your mouth?

Fool.

Arrogant young fool.

When will they ever learn?

All right, what happened here?

I... It was a shootout, sheriff,

fair and square.

Vince drew on Johnny Ringo.

All right, get him over to Doc Jason.

Is that really Johnny Ringo?

Yeah.

You should've seen it, sheriff.

His hand was so fast, it was a blur,

just a blur.

Yeah?

The boy. How is he?

I'd say he was lucky.

He's got a clean wound.

It should heal up in a couple of weeks.

He's asleep now.

Whatever it cost, I'd like to pay it.

You wouldn't be Johnny Ringo, would you?

Yes.

I sure never would've figured it.

You're not the right type.

Now, look... No, no,

I made a study of people's faces.

You know, the eyes, shape of the nose?

Been doing it for years.

I sure never would've pegged you for...

Killer?

You are a killer, aren't you?

It's according to what criterion you use.

I've killed, if that's what you mean.

The eyes.

Particularly the eyes.

They're not right.

The left one is a little weaker.

They look to me like they could belong to a lawyer

or maybe a businessman from back east.

How much for the kid?

Oh, no charge.

No charge at all, because you see,

I can get three times my fee

for the bullet that came from Johnny Ringo's gun.

Dig that one out of the wall.

You'll have a matched set.

Mr. Ringo...

I did that deliberately.

I'm not that tactless.

I wanted to see what kind of a man you were.

When you find out, tell me.

What say we run a test?

One part whiskey,

one part water.

Make it three parts whiskey.

Man after my own heart.

Sit down.

Shadows, that's what my world is,

full of shadows.

You're a brooder, Johnny.

You got all the symptoms.

I'm dry again, doc.

I'm afraid we're out of that particular medicine.

Well, maybe it's just as well.

Whiskey sometimes has a way

of churning up my mean streak.

You know, I can be a pretty mean fellow.

So I've heard.

Why, Johnny?

What's eating away at your insides

that makes you do this?

What is it?

"There's a divinity

"that shapes our ends,

Rough-hew them how we will."

Hamlet.

Act 5, scene 3.

Scene 2.

It's been a long time

since I've read any Shakespeare.

Well, it's been a long time

since I've had a good night's sleep.

You come back again.

We'll run another test.

You're the doc.

Oh.

"What is a man

"if his chief good and market

"of his time be but to sleep...

and feed?"

Hamlet,

Act 3, scene 5.

Act 4, scene 4.

You better bone up on your literature, doc.

About Vince...

take good care of him, huh?

I'll do that.

Ringo, boy!

I'll meet you in the saloon.

Yeah, we haven't crossed trails

since Tombstone.

I try to keep it that way, Jacoby.

Same old Ringo.

Hey, you look real great.

Come on over, I'll buy the drinks

and maybe talk a little business deal, huh?

I don't think so.

Hmm, been a long time

since I've had a steak tasted that good.

Ruffled curtains,

doilies,

the sweet scent of perfume...

A man could easily get roped

into a set up like this.

It's a little like being fascinated

by a coiled rattler, isn't it?

What?

The way you're staring at me.

So many people in so many places

have had that same look on their face.

Pure fascination,

curiosity mixed with a little reticence,

and just a dash of fear.

I cannot figure you out.

You spout words that I've never even heard before,

and yet I saw you use that gun on Vince

as though it was a part of you.

What do you do for diversion in this town?

Is there some nice place with a quiet table

where maybe we could have a dance or two?

This isn't Tombstone, Johnny.

The only sort of entertainment

we have around here is that lovely establishment

where I work,

but I do have whiskey if you'd like...

No. No whiskey.

It has a tendency to make me forget,

and there are some things I'd like to remember.

Johnny,

is it true those things they say about you?

Probably.

They say that you have a college education.

I can believe that.

And that you're a gentleman.

I can believe that, too.

But those other things,

the men you are supposed to have killed.

Why, Myra?

It's such a nice night.

Can't we just forget who I am?

What I am?

I'm trying to understand you.

If you ever do, you'll be the first one,

and that includes me.

You're a strange man.

I don't think I've ever known anyone

quite like you.

What are you looking for?

I don't know.

Rainbows.

It's as good as any,

but you...

There's that look again.

Better? Much better.

What about you?

What about your look?

My look?

I don't know what it is.

It's your eyes.

They look melancholy.

Johnny Ringo with the sad eyes.

You must have a home somewhere.

I had, once.

When the name was Ringold,

John Ringold.

Somewhere along the line

they shortened it to Ringo,

easier to spell.

Newspapermen are notoriously

bad spellers.

Well, how did it all begin?

Who knows?

How does a landslide start?

Which drop of water is the one

that causes the flash flood?

I was young.

Being able to outdraw your friends and cousins

was a fashionable pastime,

and you had to practice real hard to outdraw

my cousins.

Maybe you heard of them,

Cole Younger and his brothers.

Are you related to the Younger Brothers?

My first claim to fame.

I had to be as good as they were.

It was expected of me.

Then, one day fortune gave me reason

to use a gun,

an excuse,

an outlet for my emotions.

There are things in life that can cut a man in a half,

pull the life out of him,

make him run from reality,

things that can reach down inside of him,

pull all the feeling out of him,

leaving him nothing but...

bitterness,

and a gun in his hand.

What sort of things?

I had another life once,

a long time ago,

when the name was Ringold.

And then they took the gold out of my name

and they put an O its place.

Did you ever look at the letter O?

It's just a hole, there's nothing in it.

And I thought then that it was prophetic,

an omen.

Well, that's what I add up to, Myra.

Just an O,

a shape with...

nothing inside it.

Johnny, look at me.

Kiss me.

Just like that?

Just like that.

There's something inside of you, Johnny.

I don't understand it,

but it's there.

Now, I want those men.

That young fellow was only married a couple months,

and left an 18-year-old widow.

He was murdered in cold blood.

And I want those killers dead or alive.

You understand that?

And Mr. Toomey saw them riding out.

One was on a spotted gelding.

Let's go get them.

Sheriff.

I'd like to go with you.

This doesn't concern you, Mr. Ringo.

I think I can help.

We don't need help from the likes of you.

I'm talking to the sheriff, mister.

But if you've got something to say to me,

you get down off that horse

and say it.

Two men rode into town yesterday.

I know one of them.

His name is Neil Jacoby.

He's got a sickness for killing.

Kills for the thrill of it.

He was riding an Appaloosa.

Go get your horse.

All right. Let's go.

Well, Vince, you should be as fit as a fiddle

in a couple of weeks,

if you don't rush it.

And get that blasted gun off of your hip

before you come back here

with something worse.

I won't be back.

But you're gonna have yourself another patient, doctor,

if he lives.

I'm gonna get me Johnny Ringo.

Vince, you...

Horses, down by that cave.

That's Jacoby's horse.

We'll have to take them from both sides.

Sheriff, I know this man.

He's two hairs short of an animal.

Now you'll get him,

but you'll lose a couple of men doing it.

I guess we'll have to risk it, that's all.

You wouldn't have to

if I went in after him alone.

Alone?

How do we know you won't warn him?

Why, Ringo?

Why would you wanna risk your own life?

Just say I don't like men like Jacoby.

All right, go ahead.

But our guns will be on you all the time.

Jacoby.

It's me, Johnny Ringo.

Ringo.

It's good to see you, Ringo.

Hey, I told you I had some business

to talk to you about, huh?

You should've threw in with me, Ringo.

We busted that Fargo office

for near 2,000.

You killed a nice kid doing it.

Oh, you should've seen

the expression on his face, Ringo.

Come on inside, we got a couple of bottles.

There's a posse in these hills

looking for you.

Huh?

Where?

Now, you help us hold them off, Ringo,

and we'll give you a split, okay?

I'm here to take you to them.

Huh?

You're going loco or something, Ringo?

Drop your gun belt,

slowly.

You, Johnny Ringo,

riding with a posse?

I told you to drop your gun.

You playing hero for a fat reward, Ringo?

The only reward is to see you dead.

Why?

Why?

I kill because I'm pushed into it,

most of the time,

because somewhere somebody has decided

I've got to kill.

And when I do, another part of me

chips off.

Now drop your gun, Jacoby.

Left hand.

Here, Ringo.

All right, you in there.

Come on out with your hands up.

Put him in my office.

You know, Ringo, I've heard

a lot of stories about you.

I know now they weren't true.

Some of them probably were, sheriff.

Thanks anyway.

Johnny?

Myra.

What are you doing out?

It's late.

I heard you rode out with the posse.

I'll walk you home.

Buy me a cup of coffee?

Sure.

Ringo.

Vince.

You should've killed me when you had the chance,

because now I'm gonna kill you.

I admit you had me buffaloed that first time.

Johnny Ringo,

big man, big gun,

made me a mite nervous,

it threw my timing off,

but that was the first time.

Do you remember how it felt

when I shot you in the shoulder, Vince?

Burned, didn't it?

I gave you a chance then, you didn't take it.

Well, that was the first time.

Now, this is the last time.

Now where do you want it, boy?

In the heart?

It'll be quicker that way.

Or maybe between the eyes.

I could give it to you in the belly,

and the pain it'd make you scream to die.

Consider yourself lucky, Vince.

If you'd gotten me,

there'd be others looking to get you,

and you'd spend the rest of your life

looking over your shoulder.

You can't beat the odds.

So die now, Vince, it'll be cleaner this way.

It's a terrifying thing, a gun,

isn't it, Vince?

Did you ever look at the front end of a Colt

before when it spitsat you?

It's like the vicious black mouth

of some strange animal,

isn't it, Vince?

Do you know what the slug from a .45 can do

to the soft flesh of your temple?

Do you wanna find out?

Don't! No, don't!

Stop.

Get him a drink. He needs it.

You did that deliberately, didn't you,

to break him down?

Maybe now, he'll pack that pretty gun of his

in mothballs, and live longer.

Johnny, where are you going?

I don't know,

somewhere, anywhere.

Don't chase rainbows, Myra.

Find someone to take care of you,

and get in out of the rain.

You leaving us, Johnny?

Yeah.

I think I'll ride over to Turkey Creek

and play a little poker.

Even the Turkey Creek has shadows.

Hold this.

I've got something for you, doc.

I don't need it anymore.

Thanks.

Johnny...

will I be seeing you again?

Sure.

Why, doc?

Why does it have to be this way?

"When the blood burns,

how prodigal the soul."

Hamlet.

Act 1, scene 3,

Polonius' speech,

line 125.

And so the man called Johnny Ringo

went off to a strange destiny.

John Ringo, college man,

philosopher, poet, and gunman

was found shot to death

in Turkey Creek, Arizona territory

on July 14th, 1882.

The court records of that date state

he died at the hands of unknown assailants

and the mystery of his life

died with him.