Penguins of Madagascar

1

Antarctica.

An inhospitable wasteland.

But even here,

on the Earth's frozen bottom,

we find life.

And not just any life.

Penguins.

Joyous, frolicking, waddling,

cute and cuddly life.

Look at them tumbling

onto their chubby bum-bums.

Who could take

these frisky little snow clowns...

Seriously? Does anyone even know

where we're marching to?

- Who cares?

- I question nothing.

- Me, too.

- Me, too.

Well, fine! We'll just fly to the front

of the line and see for ourselves.

Kowalski! Rico!

Engage aerial surveillance.

Here we go! Doing it! Come on!

Skipper, we appear to be flightless.

Well, what's the point of these?

Whoa! I like it!

Hey, this could be our thing!

What are we gonna call it?

Let's call it the... "high one."

Hey! Anybody see that? That's an egg!

Is someone gonna go get it?

- We can't do that.

- Why not?

Well, it's a dangerous world out there,

and we're just penguins.

You know, nothing but cute and cuddly.

Yeah. Why do you think there are always

documentary crews filming us?

Well, sorry, kid. You know, we lose

a few eggs every year. It's just nature.

Oh, right, nature.

I guess that makes sense, but...

something...

something deep down in my gut

tells me that it makes no sense at all.

You know what? I reject nature!

Who's with me?!

The old ship. No one's ever

returned from there alive.

Relax, Kowalski. There's a bird

down there now. Look, he's fine.

- Leopard seals... nature's snakes.

- Aren't snakes nature's snakes?

How should I know?

I live on the flipping frozen tundra.

They're going for the egg!

Give me a way down there, ASAP!

All one would have to do is collect

300 feet of kelp, dry it in the...

Tiny and helpless, the baby penguins

are frozen with fear.

They know if they fall from this cliff,

they will surely die.

Gunter, give them a shove.

...harnessing the jellyfish we've trained

to obey simple voice commands.

Now, that's more like it!

That-a-boy, Rico! Don't let him have it!

Okay. I guess that works.

Get to high ground!

- Boo-yah!

- Success!

- I'd recommend firing it now.

- Nope, hold on.

- We really should fire it.

- Not till we see the white of its eyes.

They're mostly pupil.

Very little white. Almost none!

They got to have

a little bit of white, right?

- None whatsoever.

- What if they look really far to the left?

Fire in the hole!

Kowalski, analysis?

We are really awesome at this.

Boys, we did it! Mission accomplished!

Hey, hey, we can do our thing. High one!

Yes!

My bad.

Look. It's... it's the miracle of birth.

A moment... of extraordinary beauty.

Oh, that's disgusting! I think

I have amniotic sac in my mouth!

Whoa!

Hello. Are you my family?

You don't have a family,

and we're all going to die. Sorry.

What?

What? I thought that was

what we were all nodding about.

No one's gonna die!

Know what you've got, kid?

You've got us. We've got each other.

And if that ain't a family,

I don't know what is.

So adorable.

Kowalski, what's our trajectory?

- 95% certain we're still doomed.

- And the other five percent?

Adventure and glory like no penguins

have ever seen before.

- I'll take that action.

- But where are we going?

The future, boys.

Glorious future!

That song! I swear it's gonna

make me lose my salmon.

Singing getting louder, Skipper!

Then move faster!

Somebody get that wig off Private.

- Kowalski, status report!

- I'm really getting tired of this song.

Well, the best part of owning a circus is you

can transport a cannon over state lines.

Ten years ago on this very day,

a tiny egg hatched,

and our world got a little bit cuter.

So tonight, Private,

we celebrate your birthday

by infiltrating the United States

gold depository at Fort Knox!

- Splendid!

- What?

There she is, boys.

The object of our unholy desire.

The butter on our biscuit.

- The royal flush.

- Skipper?

Private, what's our rule

about interrupting analogies?

- Sorry. Please continue.

- The moment's gone. Private ruined it.

Sir, we're approaching our target.

- But, Skipper, I really...

- Are you questioning my leadership, Private?

- No, sir.

- Too bad.

- 'Cause I respect a soldier with some moxie.

- Really? Then I really think we should...

Whoa, whoa, whoa.

Dial back the moxie, sass-mouth.

Oh, look at you. Still so adorable.

Fire in the hole!

8:
00. Night-night time.

Wha...?

Private, come on!

- Please enter pass code.

- Kowalski, you're up.

- Please enter pass code.

- Rico, sonic incursion device.

Oh, come on, you're kidding right?

Kentucky, Skipper.

They do love their Flatt and Scruggs.

Y'all come in now, y'hear?

Have yourself a iced tea.

Private, if you could have

anything you wanted

in the whole wide world,

what would it be?

Well, gee, Skipper, I think to be a meaningful

and valued member of this team.

Well, we got you something else.

- A vending machine?

- Well, not just any vending machine, Private.

The last remaining home in America's

nanny state for those succulent

but chemically hazardous

bits of puffed heaven called...

Cheezy Dibbles!

Happy ding-dong birthday,

you little scamp!

Thank you!

You mess with the bull,

you're gonna get the horns, Private.

Now, hit that machine

and get your present.

We just broke into the most secure

facility in North America.

You know what that means?

We're wanted criminals who'll be

on the lam the rest of our lives,

always feeling the hot breath

of Johnny Law on our necks?

No! It means, as elite units go,

we're the elitest of the elite.

Top shelf in the bureau.

The penultimate, plus one.

Where'd Private go?

Oh, there he is. D-3.

- Oh, Private. How much is he?

- He's $3.50, sir.

Well, that's outrageous.

Even for Private.

Sir, the machine is alive!

I don't think I like your attitude,

vending machine.

Or your prices! Release them!

What the...?

- Kowalski, analysis.

- All evidence indicates...

I ate too many Cheezy Dibbles.

We're behind enemy lines

and incredibly thirsty.

Rico, bust us out

of this delicious prison.

Nice work, Rico.

You are a meaningful

and valued member of this team.

Private, quit lollygagging.

And regular gagging.

Dark and ominous... Two of my least

favorite traits in a room.

- Oh, look! A button.

- Private, don't!

- Now, what have I told you about...

- Sorry, what?

It looks like some sort of giant laser

sent to kill us all, sir.

- Another one.

- No!

- Wha...?

- Naughty, naughty.

Pretty birds belong in their cages.

Now, that's just hurtful.

And I was so happy to see you again.

Skipper, Kowalski, Rico...

and sweet little Private. Boop!

Who are you?

The humans know me

as Dr. Octavius Brine.

Renowned geneticist, cheese enthusiast,

and frequent donor to NPR pledge drives.

But you know me by a different,

much older name.

A name perhaps you'd hoped

you'd never hear again.

A phantom! A shadow of a former life!

I... am...

Dave!

- Kowalski?

- Sorry, sir, no clue.

Dave!

- Dave!

- Dave!

- Dave?

- Dave!

- Dave.

Rate this script:5.0 / 1 vote