Thieves Like Us Page #10

Synopsis: Two convicts break out of Mississippi State Penitentiary in 1936 to join a third on a long spree of bank robbing, their special talent and claim to fame. The youngest of the three falls in love along the way with a girl met at their hideout, the older man is a happy professional criminal with a romance of his own, the third is a fast lover and hard drinker fond of his work. The young lovers begin to move out of the sphere in which they have met, a last robbery in Yazoo City goes badly and puts paid to the gang once and for all as a profitable venture, but isn't the end of the story quite yet, as all three are wanted and notorious men with altogether different points of view on the situation they are faced with.
Genre: Crime, Drama, Romance
Director(s): Robert Altman
Production: United Artists
  1 win.
 
IMDB:
7.1
Rotten Tomatoes:
89%
R
Year:
1974
123 min
132 Views


No.

Well, what was that gunshot I heard?

I just wanted to scare him.

Oh, yeah.

Tell you one thing, Bowie.

I don't see how the hell you do it.

I mean, you come back here

and run these roads,

pull a thing like that back yonder,

and then you

beat them laws left and right.

I don't see how you do it.

You're nothing but a big country boy,

and you're chumpy as hell at times,

and yet, by God, you do it.

Just luck.

Yeah.

That's it, that's it, that's it, luck.

Call it that.

Ain't nothing else.

Hell, you're just a country school chump,

and yet you come back

and run these roads

and pull a thing

like that back yonder, and...

God, Bowie, you make me

look like 30 cents.

And what the hell

do the papers do all the time

but print about you all the goddamn time?

It rips my guts out.

Take you, and on top of that,

that damn puny, little Picayune girl

that ain't never seen the outside

of a filling station, and by God...

...the papers do

but print about you all the time.

I tell you, it rips my...

What the hell we stop here for, Bowie?

What's going on?

Come on, you son of a b*tch, get out.

What the hell you talking about,

"Get out"? I will not!

- Come on, out!

- It's not gonna matter whether you...

- God damn it, Bowie, what are you doing?

- Get down the road!

- God damn it...

- Get!

Come back here!

I wanna see my folks, Bowie!

I ain't seen my folks in a long time!

Bowie!

Bowie!

Go on in. Go to sleep.

(THUNDER RUMBLING)

(CAR APPROACHING)

Bowie?

(THUNDER RUMBLING)

What are you doing up?

I woke up and I just wondered

who you were out here.

Well, you get on inside.

You're gonna catch cold.

I don't know where Bowie is.

Do you know where he went?

I just woke up and I got real scared.

We've never been apart, you know?

I mean, for very long, anyway.

Oh, now, he told me

that he'd be back in the morning

and for you not to worry.

He wants me to take

good care of you and the baby.

Is that right?

That's right.

So that's what's been the matter with me.

Now, you go on back in

and you get some sleep,

and you'll see him in the morning.

Okay, if that's what he said.

Well, that's what he said.

Thanks for telling me about him.

And the part about the baby, too.

A baby.

I sure hope it isn't as sick in there

as I've been out here.

- Good night.

- Good night.

(THUNDER RUMBLING)

(MUSIC PLAYING ON RADIO)

RADIO ANNOUNCER:
And the readings

of Franklyn MacCormack.

I have a book of thoughts and dreams,

in which I read at times,

where many a long-past joy gleams

in hopes of singing rhymes.

Oh, I'm so glad you're here.

I need a Coke.

And I got the nickel here, Mattie.

Listen, I just can't stop throwing up.

I don't see how you stand it.

I miss Bowie so much,

I can't even tell you.

We've never been apart

for more than little times.

Well, I guess I told you that before.

There he is!

Can I get a Coke for him, too, Mattie?

I'll pay you back later.

You can't go out there.

What are you doing? Mattie, let go.

Who are all those men out there? Bowie!

Let go, Mattie!

Let go! Let go, Mattie!

Bowie!

(GUNS FIRING)

Let go!

Bowie!

Bowie!

Bowie!

Give up!

Bowie! Let go of me!

(GUNS FIRING)

(SCREAMING)

Bowie!

Give up!

Bowie! Bowie!

(PANTING)

Bowie.

They've killed him, haven't they, Mattie?

Bowie.

Bowie.

(BABY CRYING)

FATHER COUGHLIN:
(ON RADIO)

All you poor laborers and farmers,

we have tried time and again to tell you

that there can be

no resurrection for America

until Congress begins to coin

and to regulate the value of money.

We have endeavored

to teach you time and again

that there can be

no coming out of this depression

until what you earn

goes to sustain your wife

and your children.

Somebody must...

Where's this next train going?

Fort Worth.

Good.

Is that where you're going?

I guess so. Yes, ma'am.

Don't you have your ticket?

No. I got money, though.

You're not sick, are you?

No, ma'am.

I'm just gonna have a baby, that's all.

I think it'll be a boy.

Can you tell?

Well, I hope it is.

But if it is,

he sure will not be named after his daddy,

God rest his soul.

He crossed me up once too often, lying.

He doesn't deserve to have

no baby named after him.

Is he dead?

Consumption.

I'm sorry.

The baby makes me awfully thirsty.

How long before we get to Fort Worth?

About nine or 10 hours.

Nine or 10 hours?

That's a long time.

MAN:
All aboard!

All aboard!

...in the meantime,

I ask you to think seriously

about your decisions last November.

You have asked for the New Deal

that is an ancient deal in all its finance.

You have what you asked for.

I ask you to abide by your decision.

You have been warned a thousand times.

Those who warned you

should now bow their heads.

Even though the truth

be on their side,

you have paid the price,

democratic America.

And now it is your turn

to bear the burden in silence

like men

keeping America safe for democracy.

Good evening. God bless you.

(PIANO PLAYING)

RADIO ANNOUNCER:

Tonight Father Coughlin spoke to you

from the studios of CKLW.

And his broadcast reached you

over a special network.

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Calder Willingham

Calder Baynard Willingham, Jr. (December 23, 1922 – February 19, 1995) was an American novelist and screenwriter. Before the age of thirty, after just three novels and a collection of short stories, The New Yorker was already describing Willingham as having “fathered modern black comedy,” his signature a dry, straight-faced humor, made funnier by its concealed comic intent. His work matured over six more novels, including Eternal Fire (1963), which Newsweek said “deserves a place among the dozen or so novels that must be mentioned if one is to speak of greatness in American fiction.” He had a significant career in cinema, too, with screenplay credits that include Paths of Glory (1957), The Graduate (1967) and Little Big Man (1970). more…

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Submitted on August 05, 2018

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