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(KEYS JANGLING)
(LOCK OPENING)
(KEYS JANGLING)
(BUZZER)
(CELL DOOR CLOSING)
DOM: Is my cock exquisite?
(BREATHING HEAVILY)
Oh, cos I think it's fucking exquisite.
I think it's a fucking work of art.
Like a Renoir.
Or a Picasso.
The painting of my cock should hang at the Louvre.
They should study my cock in art classes,
- spend whole courses... - (BELL RINGING)
studying the splendid contours of its exquisiteness, don't you think?
(CELL DOORS CLOSING)
They should also study my cock in science class
cos it defies nature.
My cock is hard.
It's metal, it's steel, it's titanium.
It does not break. It does not weaken.
My cock can stand all day
like a good soldier trying to impress his superiors.
If my cock could win a medal, it would.
If they could name a school after it, it should.
If it could save small Somali children from starving,
it would and should, and it'll have a Nobel fucking Peace Prize for it,
the first such prize ever given to a cock.
My Nobel Prize-winning cook's like a cheetah,
all sleek and dangerous and deadly.
Sonnets should be written about how dangerous my cheetah cock is.
Poems, plays.
Wars should be won over it, kingdoms fallen because of it.
My cock is lightning. It is fire.
It is a volcano brewing with the sacred semen, lava...
- (PANTING) - (BUZZER)
Sugar and spice and all things...
(INHALES DEEPLY)
nice.
Sorry for the lack of warning, dearie.
Things happen.
Sometimes you expect 'em, sometimes you don't.
(CELL DOOR CLOSES)
I said, "Give me 200 quid, I'll light my fag off two fucking fireworks."
- Dickie nips off round the corner... - Hemingway.
I'm eating my pudding.
I couldn't give a toss about your pudding.
Put your fork down and get over 'ere.
I'll put my fork down when I'm ready to put my fork down.
I'll finish my pudding when I'm ready to finish my pudding.
You wanna disrespect me, disrespect me.
But then I won't be able to tell you what I know.
And I know you'd like to know what I know.
- What would I like to know? - Wouldn't you like to know?
- I would like to know. - Yeah, you would, wouldn't ya?
- Tell me. - Fork.
Fuck.
Oh, for Christ's sake, Dom, just put the fork down.
Tell me what it is you have to tell me.
Call came in.
Call?
The call.
The call?
Came in.
INMATES: (CHANTING) Dom! Dom! Dom! Dom!
Oi! Where's Sandy Butterfield?
- Dom? Dom, is that you? - Where's Sandy Butterfield?
- Dom, you really don't wanna... - (GLASS SHATTERS)
Where's Sandy Butterfield?
Where?
He's still working at the depot.
(BRAKES SQUEALING)
(HORNS BLARING)
- Hey, where are you going? - Where's Sandy Butterfield?
- Sir, I... - (YELLING) Where's Sandy Butterfield?
Sandy.
SANDY: (GRUNTING)
So that's what you do, is it, mate?
You fuck other men's wives while they're in prison.
That's what you do with yourself,
how you conduct yourself, how you conduct your business.
- I don't know... - She was my wife. My wife!
- You were divorced and in jail! - She was still my wife.
Always my wife, you fuck.
You fucker! My betrothed.
You're nothing but a pestilence, an uphill gardener with a weak chin.
You're a filthafising thief,
that's what you are. You think you can steal from me?
- From me? From Dom Hemingway? - God...
God! (GRUNTING)
(GROANS)
(SCREAMS)
SANDY: (WHIMPERS)
Hello, Billy.
Andrew.
Hello, Dom. Long time.
Welcome home.
Thanks. (SNIFFS)
You good? Betty good?
ANDREW: Yeah.
Charlie just graduated university.
Little Charlie with his hair all growing in his eyes graduated university?
Can you believe it? (CHUCKLES)
SANDY: (MOANING)
I should fucking kill you,
but I fancy a pint instead.
(♪ ROCK ON STEREO)
I've got anger issues, Dickie, I just do.
Always have, haven't I?
I tried to work on 'em, you know, in prison. Took some classes.
I tried the yoga, inspirational CDs, I did it all.
But the anger's still inside of me.
I just lost it, I guess.
He married Keethy. What's a man to do?
Well, I broke his fucking nose.
He wasn't so good-looking to start with.
(GRUNTS)
He wet himself.
He had it coming.
Still...
Er, sorry, Dom, you can't smoke in here.
- You what? - They banned it, smoking.
In a pub? You can't smoke in a fucking pub?
Bad for your health.
Being a cunt is bad for your health, I'm just smoking a fag.
Got one for me while you're at it?
(WOMEN CHATTING AND GIGGLING)
DICKIE: He's expecting you in France, you know,
Mr Fontaine.
He knows what you did for him.
Mr Fontaine's a man who doesn't forget his friends.
- I'm his friend now? - You did right by him.
You'll get your due.
12 years, Dickie.
12 years of my life.
I missed a lot doing right by him.
Missed Keethy's funeral.
Missed out on my Evelyn's childhood.
My daughter.
DICKIE: You got to see her yet?
I'm working up the marbles.
You've had 12 years to work up the marbles...
I just made Bolognese out of her stepfather's face.
As if she didn't hate me enough.
(WOMEN CONTINUE GIGGLING)
Mr Fontaine, he bought them for you.
A little welcome-home present, if you're interested.
- For me? - For you.
(♪ ROCKS, PRIMAL SCREAM ON SPEAKERS)
(YELLING) Oh, I love this fucking song!
- (TURNS VOLUME UP) - You hear that, Dickie?
- Yeah, Dom. - You hear that? You know what that is?
What, Dom? What is it?
That's the sound of fucking freedom!
Innit, Jeanie, eh?
- Oh, my love! Innit? - (LAUGHING)
(LAUGHING)
Hello, ladies.
- Whoa! - Come on, then.
- (GROWLING) - LADY: (SCREAMING HAPPILY)
No one call me for three days.
Oh, my head's throbbing.
It's fucking throbbing, Dickie.
Like a disco in my head. Like a fucking Manila disco
full of transvestites and suckling pigs.
I've got a seizure in my brain.
A diabolical seizure of fucking and sucking coke.
I did too much.
I tried to make up for too much lost time.
I fucked myself to death.
My head's gonna explode.
Bits of my brain's gonna go everywhere.
I'm gonna ruin your blazer.
You're gonna be all right, Dom.
Fuck you. You don't know my head.
You don't know the revolution going on...
(BURPS)...inside of it.
Fucking insurgents inside my brain.
Cossacks sodomising my cranium.
- Here. - What's that? A hand grenade?
- Hair of the dog. - That dog shat on my soul.
Drink it. It's mother's little helper.
My mother left me when I was three. Fuck my mother.
Oh...
Fuck, I'm dying.
I'm dying. I'm gonna die on this train.
If dying on this train will shut you up, I'm all for it.
Some fucking friend you are.
You can't make up for 12 years in three days, Dom.
Well, I tried.
I fucking tried.
(LAUGHING)
(PA ANNOUNCEMENT IN FRENCH)
Mr Hemingway?
Mr Dom Hemingway?
What?
I've been sent by Monsieur Fontaine. Follow me.
Oi, lardo!
If you're sent by Mr Fontaine, then carry my fucking bag.
Someone's feeling his old self again.
DOM: Damn right. Now let's go get my fucking money.
It's interesting, the French countryside.
Looks like a barmaid's snatch after a Cup Final weekend.
DOM: Fontaine better have a well-stocked bar.
DICKIE: He was raised in a Russian orphanage and kills people for a living.
Of course he has a well-stocked bar.
South of France.
(WHEELS RATTLING)
Afternoon.
Dom, don't think what you're thinking.
That's Mr Fontaine's property.
Property is a relative term for a thief.
- Still. - I'm just looking.
DOM: Admiring.
- She's rather fit. - Not her, not Paolina.
- Fit to fiddle, I'd say. - Dom!
- You don't admire that. - Bugger off, Dickie.
I'll admire what I wanna admire, think what I wanna think.
Fiddle who I wanna fiddle.
(GUNSHOT)
Domingo Hemingway!
As I live and breathe,
the Ghost of Christmas Past.
Mr Fontaine.
Call me Ivan. Are you crazy?
Ivan Anatolivich Fontanov, like the old days.
I never called you Ivan Anatoli in the old days.
Well, you will now.
Do you hunt, Dom?
No, I don't, Ivan.
I only use a gun to hold up a place,
or threaten someone, or rob 'em,
or pistol-whip 'em, or scare 'em.
- But, no, no hunting. - Shame.
It is the sport of princes.
Well, I'm a peasant at heart.
A petty serf with nice hair and a strong liver.
(SCOFFS)
I'll eat what you hunt, unless it's rabbit.
Rabbits are pets. I don't eat pets.
Oh, these French rabbits are something else, though, Dom.
I think you'll like 'em.
They taste like a revolution.
If that's an advert, I'm not sure it's working.
(CHUCKLES)
It's good to see you, Dom.
(GUNSHOT)
Dom Hemingway is free!
(LAUGHS)
- (LAUGHS UNCOMFORTABLY) - (GUNSHOT)
Dom Hemingway is free!
You look good, Dom, you really do.
Well, what can I say? I'm an handsome fucker.
FONTAINE: (CHUCKLES)
I see you've retained your vanity and your sense of humour.
Lefty was right.
- Lefty? - Yeah, Lefty, he was right.
- Who's Lefty? - FONTAINE: Who's Lefty?
You serious, Dom?
You blind?
You lost your eyesight in prison?
What?
Lefty! Lefty, your best friend, Dickie, with one fucking hand.
You lost your hand?
Yeah, 'course.
You lost your bloody hand?
Yes, Dom.
Why do you think I'm wearing this black glove all the time?
I thought it was a fashion statement or something.
Fashion statement?
I've been in fucking prison 12 years. I missed a few things.
I thought it was the latest fashion. I don't know!
You always were a bit of a clothes fag. You lost your fucking hand?
It was shot off three years ago during a job.
How do I not know that?
They found his fingers strewn all over the high street.
Fucking hell, Dickie. I'm sorry.
I'm good, Dom. It's all good.
Yeah, Dickie's a good soldier.
Mmm, tough guy.
Stand-up man.
So are you, Dom.
The most stand-up man I have ever met.
- Dom is that. - Yeah.
Well, a rat is a rat and a teat is a tit.
FONTAINE: Still, others would have broken.
Those are others, not Dom Hemingway.
- FONTAINE: No, not you. - Not me.
You've done all right for yourself the last 12 years, Mr Fontaine.
FONTAINE: Ivan, please.
Ivan. You've done all right for yourself.
The art, the house.
Or estate. This is an estate, right? That's what they call it. It's very nice.
It's a villa, Dom, a holiday home.
But thank you, thank you. I appreciate it.
Is Ivan short for Ivana?
No, just Ivan.
Could be Ivana, though, right?
It's Ivan, Ivan Anatolivich Fontanov.
Ivan, sorry. Ivan. Sorry.
It's OK.
I could have ratted.
I could have mentioned your name.
I could have said Ivana Anatoli Fontaine was the leader of the group.
Maybe you are tired from your trip, Dom?
I kept my mouth shut and I sat in that tiny cell
while my wife died of cancer in the arms of some other fucking bloke.
I've heard about that and I'm sorry.
- Sorry? - I'm sorry.
- Try 12 years. - I'm sorry, Dom...
12 fucking years. Missed my Evelyn growing up.
I said I'm sorry.
- Words are easy. - And it's all I have.
- You have something else. - You are due and you will be paid.
- Plus interest. - Plus interest.
Plus a present.
- Present? - For being so quiet.
Those girls were a present. Did you like them, Dom, huh'?
The coke and the girls, that was a present.
Oh, you really think two birds and a bit of blow are a worthy present?
- After what I done for you? - I was not suggesting...
Cos that don't even come close to a present, not even close.
It's not even a stocking stuffer, barely an opening act.
Barely a fucking appetiser, barely an amuse-bouche.
It's nothing. It's nothing but a bit of confetti in my ticker-tape parade,
and I want the full fucking parade.
My ticker-tape parade, Ivana.
I want the fucking band. I want the fucking float.
I want the parade, the float, the band and what you owe me.
(YELLING) What you owe me is what I fucking want!
I said, you'll get what is yours.
Plus a fucking present!
- A real present. - OK, Dom...
Let's say, your girlfriend.
The one with the bicycle. What's her name?
- Paolina? I want her. - (CHUCKLING)
Don't be crazy, Dom.
BOTH: (LAUGHING)
I'm not crazy.
I want her, naked, like she likes it,
with a little red bow on her clitoris
- for me to untie with my teeth. - Enough. The joke is over.
- I think you should sober up, OK? - Joke's on you, Ivana.
- Go rest. We'll see you at dinner. - Ivana Anal-toli.
I have been nothing but polite.
Polite? Polite! Aren't you the bee's knees?
Cunt.
Fucker.
Cunt.
You don't want me to get rough.
Trust me, don't go there.
Don't presuppose to know what I want.
You don't threaten me, not with that girl's name.
Not with that little girl's name, Ivana.
Ivana. Ivana? Ivana? You don't scare me.
You don't fucking scare me, Anal-toli.
I've seen death. I've seen evil.
I've seen fire. I've seen rain.
I've seen lonely days I thought would never end.
You don't fucking scare me.
I eye-fuck you. I throat-fuck you!
- Dom! - Shut it, Dickie!
You one-armed fuck. You freak. You one-armed fucking fuck freak!
No one's talking to you! No one's ever talking to you!
I'm fucking bored.
(BURPS)
I'm fucking drunk.
I'm fucking drunk and I'm fucking bored.
I said what I wanted to say. I said it and you heard it.
Now I'm gonna take a nap.
I'll see you wanks at dinner.
And no fucking rabbit.
(GUNSHOT)
(KNOCKING)
Dom, you up?
It's 6:30, it's dinner.
Dom, mate!
Dom?
Jesus Christ.
Dom! Dom!
- Dom, are you fucking mad? - I screwed it up, Dickie.
I screwed everything up.
Really? Cos I thought you were just mentally retarded.
Like those boys with the bowl cuts on the telethons.
- Dickie, I'm a mess. Look at me. - I'm trying not to.
I'm pathetic, I don't belong here. I'm a monster. I'm a dinosaur.
- Don't forget nudist, Dom. Don't forget that! - I ought to be thrown away.
Sent to a leper colony, forgotten about, left to rot with the maggots.
Jesus, Dom, you've got to get control of yourself.
You've got to beg forgiveness of him.
- You've got to put on trousers. - I've been locked up for so long, Dickie.
I see the light, the air.
It's been so long since I breathed clean air.
I look at the clouds, I go nuts.
You mix in the whisky, you mix in the pussy, I go crazy.
I'm a crazy man. I'm a fucking nutter!
- I mean, I'm afraid to see my own daughter. - Really?
But not too afraid to insult one of the most dangerous men in Europe.
Unfortunately, you had the brass for that one.
He's gonna kill me. I insulted him in his own villa.
- He'll forgive you. - He's gonna fucking kill me, Dickie.
He's gonna make Blinis out of me balls and no one will care.
- Fontaine's not gonna kill you. - He could.
No one would give a toss, not even me own daughter.
I would give a toss. She would too.
12 years, Dickie, 12 years for that money and I just blew it.
You apologise to him.
You be a gentleman and he'll be a gentleman.
It'll be all right.
Yeah? You promise?
- Yes. But you don't insult his girl. - (GRUNTS)
You don't call him fucking Ivana, you don't call him Anal-toli
and you don't let him see your pecker!
You thank your goddamn lucky stars
that he's a kind and gracious man. Do you understand?
- Yeah... - Do you understand?
- Yeah. - Cos I ain't burying your body out here.
I'm too fucking old and I didn't bring the right shoes.
Sorry I'm late.
And sorry I was such a cunt.
You must be Ivan's lady friend.
You're a vision. You're an angel.
Again, Ivan, Mr Fontaine,
sorry.
Me and, er, drink don't always dance well together.
I acted up. I acted outrageous.
Sorry.
Sorry I'm late for your dinner and sorry about before.
When you were a cunt?
(FORCED LAUGHTER) Yeah, when I was a cunt.
Dom, it is water under the bridge.
You are forgiven.
- Thank you. - Now, sit, sit.
Dinner is ready. The rabbit is getting cold.
(SWALLOWS)
Fantastic.
I'm starving.
FONTAINE: Everyone sit. Get comfortable, please.
Because you so enjoyed the rabbit, Dom,
I have a real treat for you.
(♪ LA FANETTE, JACQUES BREL ON RECORD PLAYER)
PAOLINA: (SINGING ALONG) ♪ We were two friends in love
♪ Fanette and I
♪ The empty beach was warm and sleepy in July
FONTAINE: Isn't she great, Dom?
She likes singing almost as much as she likes my money.
♪ Fanette each day
You know I could have killed you for saying what you did today, Dom?
Yeah, I do.
♪ She was
♪ She was as beautiful as rainbows in the sky
♪ She was so beautiful and not at all am I ♪
FONTAINE: When I was 14,
my very best friend in the world
was riding his bicycle and he accidentally crashed
into this girl I liked.
Her name was Tatiana.
We went to school together,
though we hadn't ever talked.
But I liked her from afar.
Anyway, my best friend accidentally crashed into her.
She got banged up,
got a black eye, crying, the whole thing.
I went over to my friend, took the bike from him, lifted it up
and smashed it over his head.
Then I stomped on his hand with my boot until every bone was broken.
Then I took a rock
and smashed it so hard into his face,
he not only lost most of his teeth
but most of his jaw as well.
This, Dom
is what I did to my best friend for having a fucking accident
involving a girl I hadn't even ever talked to.
Now,
do you know why I didn't do anything to you today, Dom?
Do you?
Cos,
you're a kind and gracious man.
(CHUCKLES)
Yes, that, but really because
after everything has been said and done
I do owe you, Dom.
(MOUTHING) I do owe you.
I'm going to make right by you, Dom.
- Would you turn around? - What?
In order to make right, I need you to turn around.
Oh, yeah, 'course.
I know telling a safe-cracker to turn around is kind of a funny thing
when you're opening a safe, but...
(SAFE DIAL CLICKS)
(SAFE DOOR OPENS)
OK, Dom.
Your share, plus interest.
This is a quarter of a million pounds.
And this
is another half a million.
This, Dom.
Is your present.
Take it. Go on, take it, it's yours.
(LAUGHING)
(SNIFFING)
Oh, watch out!
Oi, oh! Watch out!
Ladies.
Here, jump on.
Whoo!
(KISSING)
Go, Dom!
ALL: (SNIFFING)
(SHOUTING)
(SQUEALS)
(SHOUTS)
WOMAN: You're so bad!
Whoo!
You got a noble chin.
Some people have weak chins or sad chins.
You got a very sturdy, very noble chin.
I know it's kind of a weird thing to say. I mean, to just say out loud.
But my mother told me there's no better time for a compliment
than the moment you think it, so...
Well, you have very noble breasts.
My name's Melody,
though I've been told I can't keep a melody.
I'm gonna call you Lisa, if that's OK with you.
Lisa's the name of my cousin.
Yeah, she's an actress.
- I think she did a commercial. - I acted once.
Played the apothecary in Romeo and Juliet. Reform school.
I was pretty good, but I didn't have the stomach for it,
what was needed to get the good parts.
I didn't wanna have to service the drama teacher,
if you know what I mean. The poor bastard who played Romeo,
he was being tossed since he was 13.
The perv gave him all the good parts even though he couldn't act a damn
and his skin was volcanic with pus and pimples.
Ooh, I hate bad skin.
- What's your name, anyway? - I told you, Melody.
Melody, Melody, with a face so heavenly.
What about you? What's your name?
Me?
I'm Dom. Didn't you know?
Mmm-mmm.
I'm Dom Hemingway.
(WHISPERING) Dom Hemingway.
(SHOUTS) I am Dom Hemingway!
(♪ ACE OF SPADES, MOTORHEAD ON STEREO)
(TYRES SCREECH)
DOM: Oh, listen up, you owls and bears!
You cocksuckers, plebeians and moral cowards!
You foxes, lions and paedophiles!
Listen up, you freaks, Philistines and otters!
You queens, queers and little-girl tears!
I am Dom Hemingway!
Dom Hemingway!
And for my years of silence,
I have been granted lordship over everyone on the planet...
- (HORN) - (CRASH)
(GRUNTS)
DOM: 12 fucking years I kept my mouth shut.
FONTAINE: The most stand-up man I have ever met...
DOM: And I sat in that tiny cell while my wife died of cancer.
FONTAINE: I do owe you.
DOM: Missed my Evelyn growing up. FONTAINE: I do owe you.
DOM: 12 fucking years. PAOLINA: Dom.
DOM: Kept my mouth shut. Missed my Evelyn growing up.
FONTAINE: You are due and you will be paid.
PAOLINA: Dom, can you wake up?
Dom.
Dom. (GIGGLES)
Were you sleeping?
(ECHOING) Dom, where is the money?
I want the money.
- (THUNDERCLAP) - (RAIN FALLING)
The money.
Oh...
Oh, fuck.
Oh, the money.
DICKIE: Dom. Dom!
My hand, I've lost my hand.
I've got to find my hand.
(FONTAINE GROANING)
I think I have a splinter.
What?
I think I have a splinter in me.
Do you know where Paolina is?
FONTAINE: (SHOUTING) Paolina!
I think she might have some tweezers.
Paolina!
I think I'm just gonna wait here and rest for a minute.
All right, Ivan. Just rest. Just rest.
(THUNDERCLAP)
(GRUNTING)
Fuck.
Oh...
Oh!
(GROANS)
Girl?
Girl!
Come on.
Fucking...
Fuck!
Come on, girl.
(BLOWING)
Come on, girl. Come on!
Come on, girl.
Come on!
(BLOWING)
Come on. Come on, my love. Come on.
Come on, love. Come on. Come on, love.
Come on, my love! Come on! Come on!
Come on.
(BLOWING)
- Come on, live! - (THUNDER ROLLS)
(COUGHS)
DICKIE: I found it, Dom.
I found my hand. It was hiding underneath one of the cars.
(GASPING AND COUGHING)
Good on you, Dickie. Good on ya.
- You saved my life. - What?
- You saved me. - Nah.
When you save a person's life,
it means good luck will smile down on you
when you least expect it and most need it.
(MOUTHING) Thank you.
DICKIE: I think everybody else is dead.
Though I did see Paolina before.
- Heading towards the road. - The road?
- Towards the villa. - My money.
- What about it? - You wait here.
For the police and the medics.
But we weren't here. You didn't fucking see us.
My money's at the villa.
Fuck me with a javelin!
- Do you have a key? - Why would I have a key?
I don't know, you could have asked Mr Fontaine.
Mr Fontaine, with a fender in his stomach?
(SHATTERING)
Poor man's key.
- Where you going? - To get into dry clothes.
- Where are you going? - To get my money!
- DOM: (SCREAMS) - (THUNDERCLAP)
Fucking harlot.
Fucking Romanian fucking harlot.
What are you talking about, Dom? You're frothing at the mouth.
She come back and she took my bag with the money.
My fucking money.
(YELLING) Paolina!
Paolina! That was my money you took!
My money!
Paolina!
(SOBBING) That was my money. Mine, it was mine.
I bled for that money.
Dom!
Paolina!
Shit!
Paolina!
(BRAKES SQUEAL AND TYRES SCREECH)
What?
(THUNDER CRACKING)
Why?
Do I strike you as the type of woman who wants to be poor?
(LAUGHS)
(KNOCK AT DOOR)
(COUGHING)
You've gotta be fucking kidding me.
(STAMMERS)
(SIGHS)
(MEN SPEAKING SENEGALESE)
- (DOM GRUNTS) - Shh.
(CONTINUES SPEAKING SENEGALESE)
What are you talking about?
He says that wound on your head is going to leave a scar.
He a doctor, is he?
He washes dishes at the restaurant I work at.
Oh, fucking hell.
(MAN SPEAKING SENEGALESE)
But he was a doctor in Senegal.
(SPEAKS SENEGALESE)
(CHUCKLING)
He also says you are one ugly bastard.
Well, he's right there, ain't he?
(SPEAKS SENEGALESE)
Not sure what happened to you, but it wasn't pretty.
Misfortune.
Misfortune befell me.
You need to rest now, Dom, OK?
(MEN SPEAKING SENEGALESE)
(PEEING)
Evelyn said that as soon as you could pee on two legs,
you'd have to go.
By the look of you, I'd say that's today.
- So she's not talking to me? - She's at work.
She's just throwing me out, judge, jury and executioner.
Just like that.
(GROANS)
(SIGHS)
- She hates me. - She's mad at you.
A lot of years of hurt. That just doesn't go away like that.
If anyone has the right to be mad at life, it's me.
I've had the shittiest luck in the history of shitty luck.
(SIGHS) Look at me.
I'm a mess.
Face like an abortion.
Broke as a teenager. Pissing next to Afrika Bambaataa.
You going there, Dom?
Right. Sorry.
(FLOORBOARD CREAKS)
Is that my grandson?
I see your gene's a bit more prominent, if you know what I mean.
His name's Jawara.
- You're kidding? - It's Senegalese.
- Diddle me with a voodoo doll. - It means 'peace-loving'.
I'm Dom. Dom's English for 'unlucky son of a bitch'.
We're playing music tonight, at Cargo. You know it?
I can't guarantee anything, but Evelyn will be there.
- So maybe she'll talk with you then. - You think?
I don't really. But it's worth a try.
(SOFTLY) I'm scared.
I would be too.
She's a tough one.
(♪ BLUES)
♪ I wish I was a fisherman, tumbling on the seas
♪ Far away from dry land and its bitter memories
♪ Casting out my sweet line with abandonment and love
♪ No ceiling bearing down on me save the starry sky above
♪ With light in my head
♪ You in my arms
♪ Ah-ha... ♪
(MUTED)
(DOOR HANDLE CLICKING)
(LOCK RATTLING)
(CLATTERING)
Bloody fuck.
- You all right, Dom? - Fucking table.
What's a fucking table doing there? Anyone can knock into it.
I'm gonna fucking burn that table, I swear it.
I take it, it didn't go as planned tonight.
It was just peachy, just peachy.
Like one of them TV shows
where everyone's all huggy and kissy in the end.
You didn't even say hello, then?
God, I'm a shit.
But you're her shit.
I called her boyfriend Afrika Bambaataa.
That was smart.
She don't want me, Dickie.
Who can fucking blame her?
Get near me, you're likely to die,
or at least lose all your money.
Oh, yeah, sorry.
This wasn't how it was supposed to be.
I know.
What are you gonna do, then?
A man with no options suddenly has all the options in the world.
- What the hell does that mean? - Don't know.
(CHUCKLES)
(BOTH LAUGH HEARTILY)
Doomsday plan.
- I gotta see Lestor Junior. - No.
Yeah.
- Bugger. - Fucker.
Shit, Dom. The son's worse than the father.
Yeah. Shit, Dickie.
But Fontaine ain't exactly hiring, is he?
All right, son?
Dom, Dom Hemingway.
(CHUCKLES)
- I didn't think I'd recognise you... - (DOM CHUCKLES)
Seeing as I was barely a teenager and everything.
- That's right. - But I did. I'm proud of myself.
(GRUNTS)
Fucking hell.
Why did you kill my cat, Dom?
(CHUCKLES)
You're gonna bring that up after all these years?
I am. What did that cat ever do to you?
It was your father's cat, Les.
That was your father's cat. He was competition.
No matter. I loved that cat.
That cat was my friend.
Sorry, OK? I'm sorry.
I bet you are.
But you disrespected my cat and I can't forgive that.
I was just a little boy, you know.
Well, I'm ready to put the past to rest, huh?
Let bygones be bygones.
Thought maybe we could do some business together.
You're a killer of cats, Dom, and I want nothing to do with you.
I said I was sorry.
I know you're sorry, but that don't bring Bernard back to life.
See, that's what I'm talking about. Who calls their cat Bernard?
'Course I killed your fucking cat.
Come on.
Damn it. Come on!
You know I'm good at what I do.
Your father wanted me to work for him.
But you never said yes, Dom. You never said yes.
I worked for Mr Fontaine. I couldn't say yes.
You could have, but you didn't.
- I didn't cos I couldn't. - You couldn't cos you wouldn't.
I wouldn't cos I couldn't. That's why I didn't.
Fuck you! Couldn't, wouldn't, shouldn't.
(PANTING)
I got the magic fingers.
You know that, I always did.
You must remember that.
Magic fingers, Lestor.
You could use that. Your business could use that.
I run clubs, Dom.
(LAUGHS)
Bullshit, Lestor. You know what you do.
It's no secret. It's your family business.
See, there's a part of me
that wants to put you in the trunk of my sister's Prius,
drive you up to Canvey Island and bury you up to your thick fucking neck,
cover your fat fucking face in hamburger patties
and let the creatures of the night eat you to death while I watch.
That's what I want, you eaten to death
bite by fucking bite, peck by fucking peck
and fang by motherfucking fang.
See, I heard Belly retired and his replacement's disappointing.
So you come to the son of the man you was at war with?
He was competition.
You come to the little boy whose pussy cat you murdered?
You need me, Lestor.
You're an old man, Dom. You should retire, too.
I meant to.
Yeah, I bet you did.
(PANTING)
It's not like the old days, Dom.
They've got electronics now.
A safe's a safe.
Until you can't open it.
Come by my club tonight at 11:00.
Sugarfix.
I have a new electronic safe there.
If you can open it in 10 minutes, you can come and work for me,
bygones be bygones.
I'll have plenty of solid business for you.
However, if you can't open it,
I'm gonna chop off your tiny dick and use it as a doorjamb.
It's your call, Dom. Show up or not.
Open the safe or not.
Piss standing up again or not.
Those are your options. Those are your choices.
(GRUNTS)
And that was for Bernard.
- I thought that's what the last one was for. - Nah, nah, nah.
That was for my daddy. This one is for Bernard.
He was a good fucking cat
and didn't deserve your ugly face to be the last thing he saw.
Thanks, Jeanie.
Are you sure you should be drinking like this, Dom?
I'm good, Mum.
I'm serious.
You've got to open a safe later and you haven't opened one in 12 years.
I'm steady as a trapeze artist's cunt.
- Let me see your hand. - What?
Your hand. I want to see if you're really steady.
Look at your own hand, Dickie, if you haven't lost it again.
(SNIGGERS)
Seriously, put out your hand, Dom. Let me see it.
Fucker.
I could do surgery with this hand,
operate on your caper-sized brain,
finger a nun from five feet away.
That safe don't scare me.
Lestor McGreevy don't scare me. Nothing scares me.
Well, you're scaring me, that much is true.
I'm good.
You're penniless, homeless. You're fast on your way to being pissed.
Your wank's on the line
and you haven't opened a safe in 12 years,
and not an electronic one, not ever.
Aren't you the Easter Bunny, hopping around,
spreading good cheer wherever you go?
I'm just stating what I'm stating.
- Stop stating what you're stating. - I'm not gonna stop stating it.
I'll state what I want to state in whatever state I want to.
State it again, I'll knock your teeth out.
Knock my teeth out, I'll cut your ear off.
Cut my ear off, I'll carve your eye out with my big toe.
- Fuck you. - Fuck you.
Fuck you.
You think I ain't gonna be able to do this?
Me, Dom Hemingway? Think I can't do this?
There hasn't been a safe I ain't been able to open, ever.
When I was four months old, I could open a safe from my fucking pram.
I'm just saying.
Don't say nothing.
I'm gonna do this, Dickie. I'm gonna do this.
I got no other choice.
(♪ DUBSTEP)
State of the art. Had it installed four months ago.
- Made in Japan. - I'm big in Japan.
You have 10 minutes. Do you want me to start the timing now?
Or do you want to say a little prayer for your friend Tiny first?
I just want another pint. Is that OK?
Another drink before we start.
Have all the beer you want, Dom.
Right, let's get started.
LESTOR: Clock says 11:35.
It means you have until 11:45.
Easy-peasy lemon squeezy.
What the fuck is that?
Equipment.
Bloody hell!
Fuck you and fuck your cat.
I said, open my safe, not destroy my office.
Fuck your office, fuck you,
fuck your father and fuck your cat.
In nine minutes your balls are becoming trinkets.
Fuck your trinkets, fuck your cat, fuck your father,
fuck your office and fuck you!
(PANTING)
Not sure what you can do in the time you have left,
except maybe have a heart attack.
I got to do a piss.
- What? - Piss. I got to.
I'm not stopping the clock.
'Course you aren't. You're pond scum, Lestor.
Garbage, refuse.
Your father was a class act compared to you.
You're shit on my shoe. You're a cunt in gold chains.
A misery in size 10 Adidas. Now, where's your fucking toilet?
- Who designed this place, anyway? - I did, actually.
It's like a brothel by way of Elton John.
Stick to thieving and nepotism.
(PEEING)
What are you looking at?
Five minutes left, Dom.
Might be the last time you piss standing up.
I assume the cables in the back of the safe
are attached to some security company.
Yes. They promised a five-minute response.
I promised not to come in your sister's mouth.
We all make promises we can't keep.
(BOTH LAUGHING)
Don't worry, I'm not gonna do anything to Lestor,
as tempting as that may be.
Four minutes,
or less if security comes.
The fastest fingers guy I ever saw took 10, 12 minutes with a safe like this,
and he had state-of-the-art equipment with him.
- I ain't like most finger guys. - No, you're not.
- You're old. - I'm old-school.
Old, old-school, same thing.
I got magic fingers, Lestor. I told you.
So?
So...
Whoa!
Yeah, yeah...
- What the hell are you doing, man? - Fuck you.
You trying to screw the safe, Dom, or are you trying to impregnate it?
Do you want me to get you guys a room?
(GRUNTS)
Seriously, what the hell are you doing, man?
I'm winning the bet.
DICKIE: Japs sold you a cheap safe and he's gonna win because of it.
It wasn't fucking cheap.
- Then you got ripped off, Lestor. - (DOM LAUGHING)
Fucking ripped off.
Ha, ha, ha!
So what's he trying to do, Dickie?
Most safes, the cheap ones at least, like yours,
if you bounce them enough, there's a moment when the pins are shaken
and not lined up, even the electronic ones.
If you're pulling the handle at that moment, it opens.
Well, nothing's happening here except Dom getting a fucking hernia.
And you've only got two... No, one minute and 55 seconds left.
♪ God save
♪ The Queen ♪
Pints are on me!
And that, my friends,
is how you open a safe.
You did it, Dom. You right did it.
I knew I would. I told you I would.
I knew I'd beat this arsehole at his own game
and prove to him what the world already knows,
that Dom Hemingway is the greatest safe cracker known to mankind.
That I am a legend, a myth.
A glorious tale to be handed down from generation to generation.
I am impressed, Dom, I must say.
Fucking right, Lestor, Chestor,
Chestor the molester, Uncle Fester.
And only 52 seconds left.
Exactly, Fester the fucking court jester.
I won the bet. You owe me work.
Big-paying work.
Actually, you didn't win the bet.
What are you talking about?
I'm saying, in 30 seconds I'm cutting Little Dom off.
I opened your safe.
You opened a safe.
But my safe, my safe is this.
You have eight seconds to open it, seven...
- That ain't fair. - Fuck fair, it's the bet.
Five, four, three,
two, one.
(MIMES BUZZER)
Poor Dom Hemingway.
Poor, poor Dom Hemingway.
All that time in prison, only to come out and be humiliated
by the son of the man he always hated.
You're not really gonna do what you're saying, Lestor?
If I were you, I'd keep quiet, Dickie.
You know I'll kill you too and no one will give a shit.
- Now, take off your trousers. - Come on.
- Lestor. - I'm serious.
Aw, fuck!
A deal's a deal, a bet's a bet
and a dick doorstop is a dick doorstop.
DOM: Lestor, come on.
I hate you, Dom. I always have. You killed Bernard.
You can't out off my dick because of a fucking cat.
- Yes, I can. - No, you can't.
OK, no, I can't, you're right, but I can cut it off
cos you said you could open my safe in 10 minutes and you didn't.
- You rigged the bet. - Semantics.
- I played by the rules. - People are dirty, Dom. You should know that.
But I played by the rules.
That's your problem.
You're a fucking criminal.
Criminals don't have rules.
There's a code of ethics. There is!
And where did that code get you?
12 years alone, a dead wife and a daughter who hates you.
You don't know!
Everyone knows.
(PANTING)
You played by the rules in jail and you got screwed when you got out.
You played by the rules here and you got screwed here.
You're a dumb criminal, Dom. A dumb man.
(DRAWS KNIFE)
Now take off your trousers.
(EXHALES)
Lestor.
Now.
(PING PONG IN THE BACKGROUND)
Now!
(UNBUCKLES)
(UNZIPS)
- (DOOR OPENS) - Safe security.
(♪ DANCE)
- I'll meet you at the place near the place. - Right.
(CHUCKLES)
You can't fucking catch me.
(LAUGHS)
(PANTING)
Oh, fu... Oh, fuck...
Oh, fuck...
(WOMAN CHUCKLING)
(LAUGHS)
Hey, you lot need a back-up singer, I am available.
What do you want, then?
What? Nothing. I just wanna say hello.
You look like shit, but at least you're standing up. That's an improvement.
Yeah, I got that going.
Tell me something, Dom. You know how old I was when you went away?
Can your fogged-up, whisky-soaked brain go back that far?
Yeah, 'course.
I remember being in my room
and hearing mum yelling at you when you left. Do you remember that?
She was just pleading, begging with you to strike a deal.
If you'd have testified, you'd have got two, maybe three years.
You'd have been out before I was 13,
before mum got sick, before mum died.
I wanna make up for lost time. That's why I'm here.
I don't.
Come on, now. I made a mistake.
I'm a fucker and I'm a failure.
Oh, Dom, I'm leaving. I have to go. I...
I don't want you coming round here any more.
I don't want you coming round my house or my son, OK?
I don't want to see you.
You have done very little for me in my life, Dom.
Please, just do that.
It's Dad. It's Dad. It's not Dom.
Evie.
What, Dom?
(CLEARS THROAT) I'm gonna go and see your mum's grave tomorrow morning.
I wondered if you wanted to come. I ain't seen it yet.
What, the grave Sandy Butterfield paid for,
the guy you beat the shit out of?
Yeah, that one.
I thought it would be nice if we went together.
You could bring your boy.
You know what would have been nice? Having a real father.
But I didn't get one, Dom.
I only got you.
Melody.
Wait!
(HORN HONKING)
Wait!
Melody!
(PANTING)
You said I'd have good luck.
Dom Hemingway.
I was so worried about you.
But you're OK.
No, I'm not... I'm not doing very well, actually.
You said I'd have good luck. I've had nothing but shitty luck.
I'm so sorry to hear that, Dom.
If I hadn't stopped and helped you,
I'd have had time to save my money from being stolen.
MELODY: But you saved my life. You stopped to save my life.
- I know. - You did the right thing.
Not everyone would, but you did.
I told you the good luck would come when you really need it.
Well, I really need it.
- Then it will be. - How?
What do you want most in the world?
My fucking money!
- That's what you want most? - Yes.
- You sure? - Yes!
- Really? - Yes.
No.
I want her to talk to me.
Forgive me.
My daughter.
That seems a little better.
Yeah, well...
Just by picking her, you've already shown
that the pendulum of luck is swinging your way.
What the hell does that mean?
Love is what you make, Dom.
DOM: Oh, Keethy.
I fucked up, didn't I?
And not one of my minor Dom fuck-ups.
Like spending all our money down the pub with Dickie.
Going out to a football match and staying away a week.
Burning down that housing estate in Leeds by accident.
(CHUCKLES)
No.
I fucked up royally.
I didn't get to say goodbye to you.
I never got to say goodbye and kiss you goodbye, my sweet girl.
Now all I got is this dirt,
fucking grass and dirt in me hands, and not your sweet face.
Your sweet, beautiful face.
(SOBS)
I was a stupid fool.
I lost you.
I lost out on our Evelyn's childhood.
I lost the two most important things in my life.
And now you're gone...
and our Evie...
she hates me.
Oh, Keethy...
Beautiful, sweet Keethy. My life.
My heart.
I'm gonna try and make things better with Evelyn.
I really am.
She hates me now
but I'll wear her down,
bit by bit.
Day by day.
Hour by hour, I'll seduce her with my kindness.
I'll blanket her in warmth and security.
I'll confound her with my decency.
She'll resist my charms for only so long.
After all, I'm Dom Hemingway.
I'm Dom Hemingway.
I'm your Dom.
(RUSTLING)
Come here. Sit down.
Give us your hand.
That's your grandmother. Keethy, or Katherine.
She never much liked the dark ones, but I think she'd have really liked you.
I didn't think you'd come.
Couldn't well take the bus himself, could he?
(CHUCKLES)
Can I walk with you a bit?
In silence, I promise.
Total silence, like... Like a mime.
Like an old lady who lives in an attic on her own
and stuffs her cats after they died.
Not today.
Someday, then, eh, maybe?
You can walk Jawara to school on Monday morning if you like.
If you can wake up that early.
Don't get too pissed the night before.
Right, then.
Well, I'll be the Vatican's cunt.
I'll see you later. Right, let's go in.
(PAOLINA CHUCKLES)
(INDISTINCT CONVERSATION)
Paolina! Hello, darling.
Fancy seeing you here in London. Why didn't you call me?
We could have gone out for a drink,
had a tone-deaf sing-along to some old records.
Paolina, who is this?
I don't know who this man is.
Oh... (LAUGHS)
I'll tell you who I am.
I'm the fucker who'll tear your nose off with my teeth.
I'm the fucker who will gut you with a dull cheese knife
and sing Gilbert and Sullivan while I do it.
I'm the fucker who'll dump your dead body in a freezing cold lake
and watch you sink to the bottom like so much shit.
I am that fucker.
That's the fucker who I am.
And if you say one word when I remove my hand,
I'll do all that to you right now.
You say one word and you'll be as useless as a dried-up, fetid condom after bad sex.
Do I make myself clear?
Do my words translate to you?
If you understand my words, nod.
That's good.
After much heartbreak and ruin,
the pendulum of luck has finally swung back to Dom Hemingway.
And I intend to enjoy each moment of its fickle pleasure,
whether it lasts for a minute, a day or a lifetime.
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