The Friends of Eddie Coyle

Synopsis: Eddie's friends are numerous, but the term friends is suspect. As a small time hood Eddie is about to go back to jail. In order to escape this fate he deals information on stolen guns to the feds. Simultaneously he is supplying arms to his bank robbing/kidnapping hoodlum chums. But who else is dealing with the feds? Who gets the blame for snitching on the bank robbers?
Genre: Crime, Drama
Director(s): Peter Yates
Production: Paramount Pictures
 
IMDB:
7.6
Rotten Tomatoes:
100%
R
Year:
1973
102 min
Website
1,309 Views


That's fine. Thank you.

May I come in, please?

- Thank you.

- You're welcome.

May I help you, sir?

- May I have change for 10?

- Yes. How would you like it?

Ten singles will be fine.

- Bye-bye.

- Bye now.

Coffee.

I can get your pieces

by tomorrow night.

I can get you probably six pieces.

I got more now,

but I promised some of this lot.

I don't know as I like that -

buying from the same lot

as somebody else.

- Makes me nervous.

- Yeah, well, I understand.

You don't understand like I understand.

I got certain responsibilities.

Look. I told you I understand.

- Did you get my name or didn't you?

- I got your name.

- Well, all right.

- All right nothin'.

I wished I had a nickel

for every name I got that was all right.

Look at that.

You know what that is?

Your hand.

I hope you look closer at those guns

than you did at that hand.

- Look at your own goddamn hand.

- Yeah?

- Count your f***in' knuckles.

- All of 'em?

Count as many as you want.

As many as you got, I got four more.

You know how I got those?

I bought some stuff from a man.

I knew his name.

The stuff was traced.

The guy I bought it for-

he's at MCI Walpole for 15 to 25. Still in there.

But he had some friends.

I got an extra set of knuckles.

They put your hand in a drawer...

then somebody kicks the drawer shut.

Hurt like a bastard.

Jesus.

What makes it hurt worse,

what makes it hurt more...

is knowing what's gonna

happen to you, you know?

There you are.

They just come up to you and say, "Look.

"You made somebody mad.

You made a big mistake...

"and now there's somebody

doing time for it.

"There's nothing personal in it,

you understand, but it just has to be done.

Now get your hand out there. "

You think about not doing it, you know.

When I was a kid in Sunday school,

this nun -

she used to say, "Stick your hand out. "

I stick my hand out - Whap! She'd knock me

across the knuckles with a steel-edge ruler.

So one day I says,

when she told me, "Stick your hand out"...

I says, "No. " She whapped me right across

the face with the ruler. Same thing.

They put your hand in a drawer.

Somebody kicks the drawer shut.

Ever hear bones breaking? Just like a man

snapping a shingle. Hurts like a bastard.

I don't know who you been selling to...

but The Man tells me you got guns

to sell, I need guns.

Oh, look. You can't trace these guns.

I guarantee that.

You better, or neither one of us

will be able to shake hands.

Look. These guns are okay.

They're new.

Test firing's all they've had.

Brand-f***in'- new.

Air weight, shrouded hammers,

floating firing pins.

I can get you four inches and two inches.

Just tell me what you want.

- How much?

- Eighty.

Eighty? You ever sell guns before?

Look. I'm talking about 30 guns here.

What do you want, a discount?

I could sell 30 pieces tomorrow

without even seeing you.

I can't get my hands on 'em fast enough.

I'll bet if I was to go down the shrine there

and go to confession...

I'd get three Hail Marys, and then

the priest would ask me confidentially...

if I can get him something light

to carry underneath his coat.

People are desperate for guns.

I had a guy ask me seriously the other day...

- could I get him a few machine guns.

- What color was he?

He was a nice guy.

I never been able to understand

a man who wanted to use a machine gun.

You get hooked with it, it's life.

Your best all-around item

is the four-inch Smith.

You can lift it,

she goes where you point it.

- I'll go 50.

- Oh, bullshit.

Look. I'm talking about

Split the difference. Eighteen.

I have to see the stuff.

Sure. Okay.

Lines up the point.

Seen the Scal lately?

Yeah, I see him. I don't see him.

Coyle's been looking for him.

Oh, yeah?

- Say where he's at?

- At home.

Collins almost breaks it up against the-

Kicks off to -

Three, eight, four-

Hello, Eddie?

Yeah, it's me, Artie.

Look, I gotta talk to ya.

Could I meet ya?

Listen.

You wanna see this through, right?

I'll be here at Dillon's.

Okay.

It's a good thing you told me

you got a new car.

I wouldn't have figured you for this.

What happened to the 396?

Bills were eating me up.

It went like a bird

with a flame up its ass though.

I can't swing it anymore. I'm gonna have to

get married and settle down.

- I mean, I just can't swing it anymore.

- Come on. You do okay off of me.

Sh*t. What'd I get off you

in the last six months?

I can't hack around anymore, man.

I mean, if I don't stop this, I'm gonna be

looking at the outside from the inside.

How about you?

You still riding?

Nah. That was before I heard

about making money.

Okay. Come on.

You got the stuff?

Yeah.

Mostly four inches though.

- 480, right?

- How come "right"?

Four inches?

Six months ago you'd moan

if I bring you anything but two inches.

I got a better class of trade now.

What, are you hooked in

with the Mafia or something?

I'll tell you the truth -

I don't know.

There's this heavyset guy, you know.

Looks like a mick.

Says he'll take anything I can deliver.

I never seen such demand

for guns before.

Four inches, six inches, uh, Mags...

uh,.41s,.45s,.44s.

You name it.

He just keeps bringing me the bread.

It's okay with me.

You do all right off me.

Come on. I give you 20 apiece for iron.

That costs you nothing.

You do all right.

You do better.

Don't hassle me, man.

Look. I know what you're dumping

the money on. I know, all right.

But as long as you can function,

that's okay with me.

But you get my ass in the gears, man,

and I'm gonna turn the flame up under yours.

Come on. I'll see you next week, all right?

You're not looking too good.

I'm looking at three to five, it seems like.

What about the appeal?

Lost the appeal.

Lost the motion for reconsideration.

Gotta surrender up there

for execution of sentence in a week or two.

Sh*t.

The old lady's gotta go on welfare.

How would you like that? Your wife and kids

have to go on welfare, like n*ggers.

Dillon, you gotta do something for me.

- I do what I can.

- I stood up.

You're a stand-up guy.

Christ, I wish I never did that job for ya.

I wish it never happened.

But that don't help.

It looked like a pipe.

You know that. You told me yourself.

You told me you needed dough.

You got the money up front.

Yeah.

The whole town's buttoned up

on this, uh, grand jury anyway.

I never seen things so quiet.

There's nothing much going on.

You guys must have

taken up circle jerks or somethin'.

They ought to run one of these

grand juries every three weeks or so.

It sure puts you guys in the closet.

F*** you.

By the end of the week,

Artie Van's gonna be...

selling papers

or shining shoes or somethin'.

- He oughta get unemployment.

- Cut it out.

All right.

That was a cheap shot. I apologize.

But there isn't anything going on.

There's something goin' on.

A bunch of the boys getting together,

watch dirty movies?

Hmm.

To tell you the truth -

I don't know what it is.

Rate this script:4.7 / 3 votes

Paul Monash

Paul Monash (June 14, 1917 – January 14, 2003) was an American television and film producer and screenwriter. more…

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Submitted on August 05, 2018

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