Cheech & Chong's The Corsican Brothers

History abounds in stories of men

who rose to meet the challenge of destiny.

Brave men touched by the fire and passion of revolution.

This is a story torn from the romantic and violent pages of history.

A true story of two noble brothers,

of the bond of sympathy that united them,

and of their devotion to a just cause.

Their daring adventures have been too long unremembered,

perhaps because they did not seek personal glory.

But, on this bright summer day in Paris, fate is about to take a hand.

Non! Non!

Non!

One... two...

# Woolly bully, please shave your jaws, fromage

# Woolly bully, please shave your jaws

# Woolly bully, please shave your jaws, fromage

# Eggs and bacon, marmalade

Everybody!

# Woolly bully, please shave your jaws, fromage

Come on, everybody!

# Woolly bully, please shave your jaws, fromage

# Eggs and bacon, marmalade

Come on, everybody dance now!

Any more? Any more money?

All right, got it!

OK, sonny, go in there and check security.

- All righty. Come on, sit down. Coast clear. - Alright. I think I'll sit... there.

Monsieur Schmengoid! Seafood plate.

No wonder Elvis never toured over here. They don't speak English.

How much money did we make today?

We made a pile today.

What's a schmengy worth today?

I don't know. But don't you love it, man?

In America, they'd arrest us for playing on the street. Here, they pay us to leave.

That's culture, Hoss. Don't you forget it.

Hey.

- What's this? - It's what you ordered. Seafood plate.

Seafood plate? Get it out of here.

Go on, the King's allergic.

Can't eat clams unless they're attached to something.

We've revolutionised rock, man. Do you know how many places we haven't played

- where they won't want us? - A revolutionary thought.

Rock and roll, man, that's what's gonna change the world.

People think there'll be a revolution. It's gonna be a music revolution. Rock'n'roll.

You! You have the mark.

Your arm.

Your lip! You have the mark.

He has the mark, you have the mark. Are you brothers?

Yeah. We're the Marx Brothers.

I have something so important to tell you.

But first I need money.

- Ah, give her some money. - It's coming...

It's coming...

I need more money. It's coming...

Give her some more money, she'll come quicker.

Money, more money. OK. I'll tell you the first part.

She'll tell us the first part.

A long time ago,

on an island far, far away...

Even before their birth, the brothers' lives were marked by irony and intrigue.

Their father was a rich and powerful aristocrat,

and, had it not been for a romantic indiscretion of his passionate young wife,

our heroes might have been raised as gentlemen,

and we would have no story to tell.

Boiling water. Basins of it. Le chaud, le chaud. Go away!

Widen it!

You can see the hole.

Pull! And get the bar behind!

- Full it out right... now! - Ow!

Push!

And push! Push!

Push! Work at it.

Push! Push!

Fine! Now pull! Pull! Pull! Pull!

We made it!

Thank God for that.

Oh, my God!

Despite the tragic loss of their fathers,

Lucien and Louis, as they were called,

spent a happy childhood humbly raised as peasants.

Mine. Mine. Mine!

Mine! Mine! Mine! Mine!

Mine. Mine. Mine. Mine. Mine.

Mine.

Mine. Mine. Mine.

Mine! Mine!

Mine! Mine! Mine!

Their humble upbringing could not disguise the fact

that these were no ordinary peasants.

They betrayed their origins by a bond of sympathy so extraordinary

that each could feel the joy or pain of the other in his place.

And, as the years passed,

this would prove to be a heavy load to bear.

I'm going to the market. But now, you boys be good.

Yes, Nanny.

I'm sorry! I'm sorry! I'm sorry!

You donkey! Ow!

Shut up, ape. We gotta think of a story.

OK, OK, OK, OK, OK.

A dragon came by...

Yeah. OK, OK, OK.

A dragon came by and he breathed on the house...

- And caught it on fire. - And it caught on fire. Yeah, yeah.

- And then we killed it. - Yeah... No, no.

- We were gonna kill it. - Yeah. Gonna kill it.

- But it flew away. - It flew away, then we killed it.

Then we killed it. OK, OK, OK, OK, OK.

- And we were putting out the fire. - Yeah. We were gonna put out the fire...

- And the Gypsies stole us! - Yeah.

Just before we put out the fire, the Gypsies stole us. Yeah. OK, OK, OK.

- And then they took us across the river. - Yeah.

And they killed us. No, no. They were gonna kill us.

Yeah. They were gonna kill us. They tied us up with a golden chain.

- But then we killed them! - Yeah. With-with a guitar.

- Yeah, yeah. We killed them all. - Cos they were gonna come home

and kill everybody at home.

OK, OK. OK, OK.

- They'll believe that. OK. - Yeah.

- OK, let's go home. - Yeah.

- Hey, where you going? - I'm going home.

- No. No, home's this way. - No. Home's this way.

- You're stupid. Home's this way. - You're cuckoo. It's that way.

- Afraid not! - 'Fraid so!

- 'Fraid not! - 'Fraid so!

'Fraid not!

- Meet you at home. - Home's that way.

- I'll be there before you. - You'll get lost.

- 'Fraid not. - Wait and see.

This looks like the place.

Hello?

Anybody home?

Nanny?

Hello?

Where is everybody?

Hello?

All right, one move and you're dead. Who are you and what are you doing here?

I came home. I used to live here with my brother.

You're lying. I used to live here with my brother.

- Lucien! - Yes?

It's me! Louis!

Don't you recognise me?

- I'm your brother Louis! - You're lying. My brother wasn't Mexican.

- Look! It's me! - Ow!

- Louis! - Lucien!

Louis! Louis!

Where did you go?

I, uh...

I got captured by Gypsies.

And, um... and, uh... they took me to... to Mexico.

- You're lying. You got lost. - I didn't get lost.

- You did. - The Gypsies captured me.

I've been living in Mexico all this time.

You look great. But you look so... so Mexican!

Well, yeah. I'm a big landowner there now.

They call me Don Louis. Except for when I'm mad, they call me Crab Louis.

It's a Mexican joke.

You look... you look terrible. What's goin' on around here? Where is everybody?

We've fallen into terrible times since you left, my brother.

Evil men rule the country. All our people are either dead or in jail.

These evil men, they... they rape the fields and pillage the women.

That's evil men.

Indeed, there were only two things a French peasant could count on:

death and taxes.

And, given the sometimes overzealous methods of the tax collectors,

one often preceded the other.

It's good to be back in the woods. It's so peaceful.

- It's poison oak, my brother. - Yeah.

Oh.

Hey.

Hey, brother?

Hello?

You would have been dead, buddy.

- What are you doing? - Practising for the revolution.

- With a potato? - Ah, but not just a potato.

Look at this.

Get down!

What was that?

A bombe de terre.

In back of every murderous deed was the evil Fuckaire.

My little Poofter.

You must not soil your delicate little paws with this dirty peasant.

Eh, Poofter? We know what he has been doing, eh?

He has been stealing a log from the royal forest.

He tell me it is for his hovel, to warm his starving children.

Mon dieu, if you believe that, you'll believe something. I know what it is for.

It is to make weapons.

And he should know that weapons are forbidden in my kingdom.

Or at least the queen's kingdom.

Or so she thinks, eh?

My lovely little Poofter. Give me a kiss.

Mon dieu! Halitosis, eh?

Non!

Non! Non!

My friend, you see we are so considerate to you dirty peasants.

We have brought your wife to join you for company. Are you sitting comfortably?

You are?

We can't have that. Stretch his legs wider.

Wider.

You ever had a taco?

I guess they don't have tacos in France.