The Boondock Saints (1999)
Connor: Now you will receive us.
Murphy: We do not ask for your poor or your hungry.
Connor: We do not want your tired and sick.
Murphy: It is your corrupt we claim.
Connor: It is your evil that will be sought by us.
Murphy: With every breath, we shall hunt them down.
Connor: Each day, we will spill their blood till it rains down from the skies.
Murphy: Do not kill. Do not rape. Do not steal. These are principles which every man of every faith can embrace.
Connor: These are not polite suggestions. These are codes of behavior, and those of you that ignore them will pay the dearest cost.
Murphy: There are varying degrees of evil. We urge you lesser forms of filth not to push the bounds and cross over into true corruption, into our domain.
Connor: For if you do, one day you will look behind you and you will see we three. And on that day, you will reap it.
Murphy: And we will send you to whatever god you wish.
[Murphy and Conner join II Duce behind Yakavetta]
Il Duce: In nomine Patri.
Connor: Et Filii.
Murphy: Spiritus Sancti.
[they execute Yakavetta]
Rocco: Fuckin'- What the fuckin'. Fuck. Who the fuck fucked this fucking... How did you two fucking fucks...
Connor: Well, that certainly illustrates the diversity of the word.
Yakavetta: I'm having a shitty day. I'm depressed. Tell me a funny joke.
Rocco: Now? A joke? Uh... um, uh... A joke. Yeah, alright. Um... There's these, uh, three guys, uh... a-a-a-a spic, a-a-a-a white guy and a black guy.
Rocco: Yeah, n-n- Yeah. And-and they walk along the beach, they see this pot, they rub it, genie comes out. Genie says, you know, "You wish for anything you want." So, he asks, uh-uh, Mexican what-what he wants, and he goes, uh, uh, "I want, uh, all my people in America to be happy and free and in Mexico." And so, genie - Poof! And, all the spics are in Mexico. And then he asks the black guy...
Vincenzo Lipazzi: Nigger.
Rocco: Yeah, that's what I said. Goes to the, uh- uh, nigger, says, uh, "What do you want?" And he goes, um, uh, "I want all my African- my nigger brothers in America to be back in Africa and-and happy and everything." You know? So, genie goes poof! And, um, all the niggers in America are in Africa. And, uh, uh, uh, this is go- I'm not funny today. I-I know. I'm havin' a hard day. I-I-I- This joke sucks. It's-it's-it's a stupid joke.
Yakavetta: Continue the joke.
Rocco: So the genie says to the white guy, uh, um, "What's your one wish?" And the white guy goes, "You mean to tell me all the niggers and spics are out of America?" Genie goes, "Yeah." He says, "Well, um, I'll have a Coke, then."
Murphy: And Shepherds we shall be For Thee my Lord, for Thee Power hath descended forth from Thy hand Our feet may swiftly carry out Thy commands. So we shall flow a river forth to Thee And teeming with souls shall it ever be. In Nomine Patri, Et Filii, Et Spiritus Sancti.
Monsignor: And I am reminded, on this holy day, of the sad story of Kitty Genovese. As you all may remember, a long time ago, almost thirty years ago, this poor soul cried out for help time and time again, but no person answered her calls. Though many saw, no one so much as called the police. They all just watched as Kitty was being stabbed to death in broad daylight. They watched as her assailant walked away. Now, we must all fear evil men. But there is another kind of evil which we must fear most, and that is the indifference of good men.
Connor: [as the brothers exit the church] I do believe the monsignor's finally got the point.
Doc: You know what they say: People in glass houses sink sh-sh-ships.
Rocco: Doc, I gotta buy you, like, a proverb book or something. This mix'n'match shit's gotta go.
Connor: A penny saved is worth two in the bush, isn't it?
Murphy: And don't cross the road if you can't get out of the kitchen.
[after Smecker gets a phone call in bed with his gay lover and slaps him]
Paul Smecker: What are you doing?
Hojo: I just wanted to cuddle.
Paul Smecker: Cuddle? What a fag.
Ivan Checkov: I am Ivan Checkov, and you will be closing now.
Murphy: Checkov? Well, this here's McCoy. We find a Spock, we got us an away team.
Doc: Why don't you make like a tree, and get the fuck outta here?
Connor: Jeez! It's a fuckin' six-shooter. Fuck!
Murphy: There's nine bodies, genius.
Connor: What the fuck were you gonna do, laugh the last three to death, Funny-Man?
The Priest: Would they ever harm an innocent person for any reason?
[of Rocco, who's holding him at gunpoint]
Paul Smecker: No, they would never do that. Well, the two Irish guys wouldn't, the Italian guy, he might, he's kind of an idiot.
Rocco: They can suck my pathetic little dick, and I'll dip my nuts in marinara sauce just so the fat bastards can get a taste of home while they're at it.
Connor: We haven't really got a system of deciding who, Roc. It's, uh...
Rocco: Me! *Me*! I'm the guy! I know everyone! Their habits, who they hang out with, who they talk to! I've got phone numbers, addresses! I know who they're fucking! I know where they live! We could kill *everyone.*
Murphy: So what do you think?
Connor: I'm strangely comfortable with it.
Connor: How far are we gonna take this, Da?
Il Duce: The question is not how far. The question is, do you possess the constitution, the depth of faith, to go as far is as needed?
Il Duce: Never shall innocent blood be shed, yet the blood of the wicked shall flow like a river. The Three shall spread their blackened wings and be the vengeful striking hammer of God.
Paul Smecker: They exited out the front door. They had no idea what they were in for. Now they're staring at six men with guns drawn. It was a fucking ambush.
[they exit the house to find Il Duce, one man with six guns]
Paul Smecker: This was a fucking bomb dropping on Beaver Cleaverville. For a few seconds, this place was Armageddon!
Paul Smecker: There was a firefight!
Murphy: Yeah, it's St. Paddy's Day, everyone's Irish tonight. Why don't you just pull up a stool and have a drink with us?
Connor: [picking out weapons and gear] Do ya know what we need, man? Some rope.
Murphy: Absolutely. What are ya, insane?
Connor: No I ain't. Charlie Bronson's always got rope.
Connor: Yeah. He's got a lot of rope strapped around him in the movies, and they always end up using it.
Murphy: You've lost it, haven't ya?
Connor: No, I'm serious.
Murphy: Me too. That's stupid. Name one thing you gonna need a rope for.
Connor: You don't fuckin' know what you're gonna need it for. They just always need it.
Murphy: What's this 'they' shit? This isn't a movie.
Connor: Oh, right.
[picks up large knife out of Murphy's bag]
Connor: Is that right, Rambo?
Murphy: All right. Get your stupid fuckin' rope.
Connor: I'll get my stupid rope. I'll get it. This is a rope right here.
Doc: He left me his c-c-c... He left me his c-c-c... Oh, he fucking gave me this. Fuck! Ass!
Rocco: Anybody *you* think is evil?
Rocco: Don't you think that's a little weird, a little psycho?
Connor: D'you know what I think is psycho, Roc? It's decent men with loving families. They go home every day after work and they turn on the news. You know what they see? They see rapists, and murderers and child molesters. They're all getting out of prison.
Murphy: Mafiosos. Gettin' caught with twenty kilos. Gettin' out on bail the same fuckin' day.
Connor: And everywhere, everyone thinks the same thing: that someone should just go kill those motherfuckers.
Murphy: Kill 'em all. Admit it. Even you've thought about it.
Rocco: You guys should be in every major city. This is some heavy shit. This is, like, Lone Ranger heavy, man.
[the two brothers are in an airshaft and getting a bit uncomfortable]
Murphy: Where the fuck are you going?
Connor: Shhh. I'm figuring some shit out here.
Murphy: Ahh, fuck you! I'm sweatin' my ass off draggin' your fuckin' rope around. Must weigh thirty pounds.
Connor: Shhh. We are doing some serious shit here, now get a fucking hold of yourself!
Murphy: Oh, *fuck you*! I'm not the rope-totin' Charlie Bronson wannabe that's getting us fucking lost!
Connor: Would you fucking shut it?
[taps him on the head with his flash light, and both brothers start fighting in the air vent until it gives way]
Connor: You mother- Jesus fucking Christ!
Murphy: Oh, shit!
[the vents give way]
Rocco: [shouts] Fuck it! There's so much shit that pisses me off! You guys should recruit, 'cause I'm sick and fucking tired of walking down the street, waiting for one of these crack-piping, ass-wiping, motherless lowlifes to get me!
Murphy: Hallelujah, Jaffar.
Rocco: So, like, you're not just talking about mob guys, right? You're talking about pimps and drug dealers and all that shit, right?
Connor: Oh, yeah.
Rocco: Fuck. You guys could do this every goddamn day!
Murphy: We're sorta like 7-Eleven. We're not always doing business, but we're always open.
Connor: That is nicely put.
[after dropping through the ceiling on a rope and killing nine mobsters]
Connor: Well, "Name one thing you're gonna need this stupid fucking rope for."
Murphy: That was way easier than I thought.
Murphy: You know, on TV you always got that guy that jumps over the sofa.
Connor: And then you gotta shoot at him for ten fucking minutes, too.
Murphy: We're good.
Connor: Yes, we are.
Rocco: I killed your cat, you druggie bitch.
Rocco: I thought it would bring closure to our relationship.
Paul Smecker: So you're telling me it was one guy with six guns, and he was a senior frigging citizen?
Paul Smecker: These burns indicate that they used silencers. Look at these entry and exit wounds. They're almost identical. The two bullets went in here, through the top of the skull, criss-crossed, and exited through the eyeballs. This one clue tells us three distinct facts. Number one, Duffy?
Detective Duffy: They shot him at a downward angle... They put him on his knees?
Paul Smecker: Excellent! Number two, Greenly?
Detective Greenly: They... shot him at a downward angle?
Paul Smecker: It tells us he was the last to die. And number three, Dolly?
Detective Dolly: Uh... there was two shooters.
Paul Smecker: Fan-frigging-tastic.
[the other detectives start to object]
Paul Smecker: Stay with me, boys! What did they do to make two such identical wounds. Two men, of similar height, drop this guy down, each puts some iron to his head, and boom, that's all she freakin' wrote.
Detective Duffy: What about one guy, two guns?
Paul Smecker: Eh, possible, but unlikely. The angles are too extreme. A guy holding two guns to the back of your noodle is gonna shoot straight ahead. He wouldn't cock out his elbows, it makes no sense. Besides, are you telling me *one guy* came in here and killed eight men with eight extremely well-aimed shots in just a few seconds? No way. Had to be at least two.
Paul Smecker: Television. Television is the explanation for this - you see this in bad television. Little assault guys creeping through the vents, coming in through the ceiling - that James Bond shit never happens in real life! Professionals don't do that!
Connor: [during job training for an avid feminist] The rule of thumb here is...
Rosengurtie: Wait, rule of thumb? In the early 1900s it was legal for men to beat their wives, as long as they used a stick no wider than their thumb.
Connor: Can't do much damage with that then, can we? Perhaps it should have been a rule of wrist?
Connor: Destroy all that which is evil.
Murphy: So that which is good may flourish.
Detective Greenly: These guys are miles away by now, but if you wanna beat your head against a wall, then here's what you're looking for: they're scared, like two little bunny rabbits. Anything in a uniform or flashing blue lights is gonna spook 'em, okay? So the only thing we can do is put a potato on a string and drag it through South Boston, "Thanks for coming out!"
[Murphy and Connor walk into the station and Smecker sees them]
Murphy: You'd probably have better luck with a beer.
Connor: Aye, you would.
Detective Greenly: Aw, fuck.
Paul Smecker: Hey, Greenly. Onion bagel, cream cheese.
Donna: You killed my... my...
Rocco: Your what?
Rocco: Your fuckin' what? Huh? Your what, bitch?
Rocco: [puts gun to his own head] I'll shoot myself in the head, you can tell me that cat's name! Go ahead! Your what? Your precious, little...
Rayvie: Skippy! Skippy!
Rocco: Oh, Jesus! What color was it, bitch?
Rayvie: Don't you fucking yell at her like that you prick!
Rocco: [turns gun on Rayvie] Shut your fat ass, Rayvie! I can't buy a pack of smokes without runnin' into nine guys you fucked!
Il Duce: When I raise my flashing sword, and my hand takes hold on judgment, I will take vengeance upon mine enemies, and I will repay those who hate me. Oh, Lord, raise me to Thy right hand and count me among Thy saints.
Il Duce: And I shall count thee among my favored sheep, and you shall have the protection of all the Angels in Heaven.
[after Rocco shoots three men in a coffee shop]
Murphy: Liberating, isn't it?
Connor: Let's fuckin' go!
Rocco: You know, it is a bit.
Paul Smecker: [Agent Smecker walks up to the first crime scene, where Chekov and his partner lay dead] Brilliant. So now we got a huge guy theory, and a serial crusher theory. Top notch. What's your name?
Detective Greenly: Detective Greenly. Who the fuck are you?
Paul Smecker: [opens his coat and shows his FBI credentials] That's who the fuck I am.
[after Smecker proves the Boston detectives wrong]
Paul Smecker: We'll start the ass-kissing with you.
Il Duce: Whosoever shed man's blood, by man shall his blood be shed. For in the image of God made He man.
Paul Smecker: Now, you Irish cops are perking up. That's two sound theories in one day, neither of which deal with abnormally sized men. Kind of makes me feel like Riverdancing.
[He proceeds to riverdance]
Paul Smecker: Oh, isn't that beautiful? All the lowlifes in quiet city Boston start dropping dead and *you* think it's unrelated! Greenly, the day I want the Boston Police to do my thinking for me, I will have a fucking tag on my toe!
[after Rocco fondles an unconscious stripper's breast]
Connor: What the fuck are you doing?
Rocco: ...I'll tip her.
Yakavetta: The 90's are killing me. I shouldn't have done that. You're not supposed to tell a guy you're gonna kill him no more. I got to tiptoe through the tulips with these assholes. Taking all the fun out of the job.
[while drunk in the confession booth]
Paul Smecker: I put evil men behind bars, but the law has miles of red tape and loopholes for these cocksuckers to slip through.
Detective Dolly: So what's the symbology there?
Paul Smecker: Symbology? Now that Duffy has relinquished his "King Bonehead" crown, I see we have an heir to the throne! I'm sure the word you were looking for was "symbolism." What is the ssss-himbolism there?
[after Rocco accidentally turns a cat into a splatter on the wall]
Murphy: I can't believe that just fucking happened!
Rocco: Is it dead?
Detective Duffy: This was their target, the fag-man.
Paul Smecker: The what-man?
Detective Duffy: The fat man.
Paul Smecker: Well. Freud was right.
[to a woman in the court room before they kill Yakavetta]
Il Duce: You must watch, dear. It'll all be over soon.
Rocco: That was funny, wasn't it? That was real fucking funny, huh? Huh?
Bartender: Not me! Not me!
Rocco: [shoots him] It was FUNNY! FUNNY! FUNNY! FUNNY!
[gun clicks empty]
[after discovering sickos in the booths at a strip club]
Connor: It's like a scumbag yard sale.
Murphy: We should come down here once a week and clean house.
Ivan Checkov: [Checkov has handcuffed Connor to the toilet] You know why I fucking come here? I come here to kill you. But now, I no think I fucking kill you. I kill your brother. Shoot him in the head.
Connor: Fuck you!
Ivan Checkov: Gotta go.
[to the Russians]
Murphy: It was just a fucking bar fight! You guys are fucking pussies!
Murphy: [at the police station] Is there any way that we could stay here?
Officer Chaffey: Uh, yeah, you know, we have an extra holding cell, you guys c- Can they stay?
Paul Smecker: [sheepish grin] Well, we'll have to check with your mom. But it's okay with me if your friends sleep over.
Paul Smecker: Oh really! I might just be wanting a bagel with my coffee.
[while interrogating the boys, Smecker is surprised that they are fluent in Russian]
Paul Smecker: You speak any other languages?
Murphy: Aye. Our mother insisted on it.
Paul Smecker: French?
Murphy: [in French] How do you think he figured all this out without talking to us?
Paul Smecker: Oh, that's beautiful.
Connor: [in Italian] I have no idea. Maybe somebody saw and talked.
Paul Smecker: What's that?
Connor: [chuckling] That's Italian.
Murphy: [in German] Not in our neighborhood, man. A hundred percent Irish. No one talks to cops. Period.
Paul Smecker: [not understanding] Jawohl!
Connor: [in Spanish] Then I guess he's just real, real good.
Il Duce: [the Saints break into Yakavettas courtroom] You people have been chosen to reveal our existence to the world! You will witness what happens here today, and you will tell of it later. All eyes to the front.
Yakavetta: Now's a good time to fucking...
[gets kicked over by Murphy]
Connor: Shut your fucking mouth!
Il Duce: [walks up to a cowering girl, takes her chin in his hand] You must watch dear. It'll all be over soon.
Paul Smecker: [enters the police station, packed with cops] First of all, I'd like to thank whichever one of you donut-munching, barrel-assed, pud-pulling sissies leaked this to the press. That's just what we need now: some sensational story in the papers making these boys out to be superheroes, triumphing over evil. Let me squash the rumors now. These two are not heroes. They're just two ordinary men who were put in an extraordinary situation and they just happened to come out on top. Yes, nothing from our far-reaching computer system has turned up diddly on these two. All we know is what we found out from the neighbors, and the general consensus is, they're angels. But angels don't kill. And we got two bodies in the morgue that look like they've been "serial-crushed by some huge friggin' guy".
Yakavetta: He's happy now, just killing us one by one. And worse, he's good at it.
[Yakavetta wants to call in Il Duce]
Augustus DiStephano: Your father and I used him three times in twenty years, only when things got totally fucked. Whenever we needed one of our own bumped off, we called this guy in. He had a thing for clipping wiseguys, but only one rule: No women, no kids. Believe me, kid, you don't want this guy unless you are one hundred percent sure you need him. He's a fucking monster.
[the brothers discover a briefcase of money with the roomful of Russian mobsters they've just wiped out]
Connor: Fuck me!
Murphy: Oh. The hits just keep on coming!
[whacks Connor in the face with a wad of cash]
Connor: Ow! Give it a smell!
Murphy: I love our new job.
Rocco: This guy takes out a whole family... wife, kids, everyone... like he's ordering fucking pizza.
[after Rocco gets his finger shot off]
Rocco: Feels like it's still there.
Connor: Yeah, well it's not.
Paul Smecker: So Duffy, you got any theories to go with that... tie?
Paul Smecker: [walking through the hotel room] How many bodies, Greenly?
Detective Greenly: Eight.
[Smecker gives him a look]
Detective Greenly: Ah, shit! I forgot about that one! Nine! Nine?
Paul Smecker: While Greenly's out gettin' coffee, anybody else want anything?
Detective Greenly: Shit.
Detective Greenly: [giving his theory about the two dead Russians in the alley] This guy takes a blunt object, fuckin', waah! Hits the guy with the bandages around his head, right? Why? 'Cause he's smart. He knows the guy with the bandages around his ass, he ain't goin' nowhere. He's goin' fuckin' nowhere.
[to dead body]
Detective Greenly: Where you goin'? Nowhere!
Connor: Okay, Roc...
[Connor looks at him and laughs; his mask is badly put on]
Rocco: What? You guys got masks.
Murphy: You look like Mush Mouth from Fat Albert.
[as they keep giggling, Rocco takes his mask off]
Rocco: Fine! Fuck it. When we're done, she can ID me. I don't care. Just trying to be professional, but nooooo...
Connor: It looks fine!
Rocco: Fuck it.
Connor: Now shut the fuck up, you look good. Put it on! You look fuckin' scary, man!
[Rocco puts his mask on, again badly]
Connor: [trying not to laugh] Now Roc, are you sure that you're obee-kay-bee?
[seeing the nine dead Russian mobsters that the masked men killed]
Rocco: Boy, you guys sure did a good job. Ah shit, you guys are good huh? Cool masks. Where'd you get 'em?
[to a trio of Russian mobsters]
Rocco: Hey, Boris. What would you do if I told you your pinko Commie mother sucked so much dick, her face looks like an egg?
[Checkov decks Rocco]
Connor: Donna's gonna be angry about her cat.
Rocco: Shit. She's on every drug known to man. She'd have sold the thing for a dime-bag. Screw her.
Rocco: I do kinda feel like an asshole, though.
Connor: Yeah, Roc, you sound real remorseful there.
Detective Greenly: What if it was just one guy with six guns?
Paul Smecker: Why don't you let me do the thinking, huh, genius?
Paul Smecker: Why don't you get me a cup of coffee?
Detective Greenly: Who the hell is this...?
Paul Smecker: Cafe latte.
Detective Greenly: What the fuck...?
Paul Smecker: Twist of lemon.
Detective Greenly: Chief, what the fuck is this?
Paul Smecker: Sweet'N Low.
[about the scene of the two dead Russian mobsters]
Detective Dolly: Nobody reported any gunshots.
Paul Smecker: This is an Irish neighborhood. I'm surprised you even got a phone call.
[after Rocco enters the bar]
Rocco: Hey fuck-ass, give me a beer.
Mackiepenny: Our father, who art in heaven, hallowed be thy name. Thy kingdom come, Thy will be done, on Earth as it is in Heaven. Give us this day our daily bread, and forgive us our trespasses, as we forgive those who trespass against us. And lead us not into temptation, but deliver us from evil. For Thine is the kingdom, and the power, the glory, now and forever. Amen.
Man in the street: I'm ready to
Man in the street: my
Man in the street: on. OK? I'm ready to get busy too. You know, I'm ready to get *busy*.