The Art of the Steal Page #2

they call the sandman

Tiptoes to my room

every night

Just to sprinkle stardust

and to whisper

"Go to sleep,

everything is all right"

[CAMERA SHUTTER CLICKS]

I close my eyes

Then I drift away

Into the magic night

I softly say

"Oh, smile and pray

Like dreamers do

Then I fall asleep...

[WOMAN ON PA, INDISTINCT]

Excuse me, sir. Would you

consent to a voluntary search?

Right this way, please.

Bad luck, chief.

Thank you.

Ground rules,

same as last time.

You talk when

I tell you to talk

and when I don't,

you do not talk.

Don't bark at me.

I'm not your dog.

Did I say to talk?

Because I don't recall

telling you to talk.

How many more times

must I do your job

before I've paid my

proverbial debt to society?

Warning:
You make me look

stupid, I will crush you.

- That looked hot.

- Yes, a little bit.

We're going to start

with "good cop, bad cop".

- I'm not a cop.

- OK.

How about "good cop,

just do what I f***in' say"?

You're not a cop.

Correction. The "pol" in

Interpol, it stands for police.

Then where is your pistol?

I don't need a gun.

I've got something far more

dangerous than that.

Is it a whistle that you blow

to summon the real police

when a crime

is being committed?

No. It's actually a pen.

And, with it,

I can deny your parole.

So why don't you shut the hell

up and follow my lead?

Where's the f***ing painting,

fucko?

Whoa.

My name is Agent Bick. This is

my associate, Samuel Winter.

[NICKY] I know Sam.

Sam, what are you doing

with Dirty Harry, here?

You know how they pair

professional athletes

- with slow kids?

- Yep.

It's kind of like that.

Two weeks ago, this painting

"Model, Rear-View"

by Georges Seurat was stolen by

an art collector in Mexico City

by a woman we had

under surveillance.

Yeah, I've never seen

that woman before...

...before yesterday.

Do I look like

a f***ing clown to you?

Clowns try to be funny. You're

just unintentionally hysterical.

- [LAUGHS] - Shut your giggle

hole and open the damn case.

It's called "Tio Puno Loco".

Which translates

"Uncle Crazy Fist."

Now, if you gentlemen will excuse me,

I've got to water ski...

Sit down! Winter,

this is not "pointerism".

Every painting tells a story.

All good art tells a story.

This one tells two.

[SAM] Say Nicky here

is stopped at Customs.

All they see is this rubbish,

not the masterpiece underneath.

Acetate solution loosens

the top acrylic layer.

Peel it on back and you're left with

the original oil painting underneath.

[BICK] What the f*** is that?

It's a marvelous picture. I'm delighted

to have it as part of my collection.

Well, boys, have a nice day.

Where's the Seurat?!

Long gone.

[UP-TEMPO MUSIC]

- Sunny.

- Yeah. How'd it go?

Ah, it went.

Bad luck, chief.

You got the money?

There you go.

It feels a little light.

Well, why don't you open it?

"I'm sorry.

I'm sorry for hitting you

with a lead pipe."

What the f***...

[GRUNTS]

[MUSIC CONTINUES]

[INDISTINCT CHATTERING]

Crunch, honey,

we're out of ice.

[CRUNCH] Oh yeah, all right.

Thank you, Crunchie.

Adios, fellas.

Ice? $50 for ice?

It's wintertime.

Crunch, she's, she's not

even trying anymore.

Happy wife, happy life, right?

So you say.

Oh, I don't know, Francie.

When I was a young buck

I thought I'd make history,

not just sit there

reading about it.

Hell, I thought

I'd be a great man.

OK, so you're not...

stereotypically great,

like Alexander the Great.

But you're great like,

great like, like...

You're a great guy!

Great men don't take dives

for a couple of hundred bucks.

And great men

don't miss their fate.

Somewhere along the line I...

I missed mine, Francie.

I was probably staring at

it the whole time and I just...

I missed it.

My God, you're a downer.

A f***in' boner killer.

And what are you going to do? Are you

gonna sell f***in' insurance or something?

Just shut the f*** up

and cheer up, please.

[DOOR BELL]

Allow me.

Yo, Dennis Calhoun?

Who's asking?

- It's f***in' Sunny.

- Sounds about right.

Hey, Crunch, there's some guy with

an eye-patch here to see you.

[GRUNTS]

[GRUNTING] Oh, easy, man!

Where's your f***in' brother?

I was gonna cut bait and go home then I

realized Nicky said he had a brother.

[PEOPLE CHATTERING]

- [GRUNTING]

- Oww. F***!

Sweet Baby Jesus.

What are you, a pirate?

Hey, hey, hey. Look! I don't

know where Nicky is, all right.

- He said you work with him.

- Yeah, a long time ago.

Now, look, I got like $300

stashed in the bedroom there.

It's yours. A guy in your line of

work might prefer doubloons...

I'm not a f***in' pirate!

[MUFFLED SHOUTING]

I don't even talk to Nicky.

I hate him.

Here's what's what.

I want the 30 grand

- or I want that f***in' painting.

- What painting?

The Seurat.

Whoa! Whoa! What?

- The Seurat!

- What?

The Georges Seurat,

you ignorant f***!

The seminal French

"Post-Impressionalist".

The father of pointillism.

That Georges Seurat,

you f***in' baboon.

Now I want the 30 grand,

the painting

or a bullet in your

f***ing head!

[KNOCK AT DOOR]

- [FRANCIE, MUFFLED] Hey, uh...

- [FLUSHES TOILET]

- Crunch, is everything OK?

- [CRUNCH] Yeah.

What... what's happening,

exactly?

- Nothing.

- What?

I'm being held at

gunpoint by a pirate.

I'm in the bathroom.

What do you think, Francie?

All right. Sorry

for f***in' askin'!

I ain't leavin'

without the 30 grand.

Sorry, Sinbad, but I don't think

that musketoon's gonna even fire.

So go ahead and pull the trigger

'cause I got no painting,

no Nicky and

no 30 f***ing grand!

Who owns that

f***in' bike outside?

Wait a minute, man.

[MUSIC ON RADIO]

- [GRUNTING] What the f***?

- What's going on?

- Nicky's back.

- What?

And so am I.

What the f*** just happened?

Fate! Fate is

what just happened.

[CRUNCH ON PHONE] Uncle Paddy.

How are you, lad?

Still in the land of the living?

You wanted to know when I was

ready to go back to work.

Well, I'm ready.

- Citizenship?

- Various.

Anything to declare?

Nothing but my undying

love for you, beautiful.

Pull over.

[CRUNCH] Hey, Paddy?

[WHISTLES]

[FRANCIE] What's that?

A Seurat.

If this is even close to real,

Paddy's gonna make a bundle.

Oh, it's real.

I was hoping to get Paddy

to move it for me.

Oh, hi. I'm Nicky...

I know.

Right.

Well, could you be so kind as to give me

and my brother a moment here to catch up?

So.

How'd you get the scar?

Motorbike?

No.

All right, man.

[CRUNCH AND NICKY GRUNTING]

[MUTTERS SILENTLY]

You must be Francie, are ya?

Paddy McCarthy.

But for you, it's Uncle Paddy.

So, is there a donnybrook a-brewin'

in there? How she gettin' on?

[MUFFLED GRUNTING CONTINUES]

I understood the word "Francie".

Fightin', are they? Ha.

So much alike those two.

They're literally nothing alike.

Oh, different mothers.

They grew up on different

sides of the country.

Their father was the

Johnny Appleseed of sperm.

That's revolting.

You're gettin' old, Crunch.

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