Live by Night

Joe: In 1917, I signed up to fight the huns in France.

Good men died all around me.

And I saw no reason for it.

The rules we lived by were lies.

And they didn't apply to those who made them.

I swore if I made it home, I would never follow orders again.

I left a soldier.

I came home an outlaw.

I lived one robbery to the next.

A good day was filled by sleep

and a good night spent running too hard to look back.

I lived that life for 10 years.

Until it caught up to me.

It all started with an inside man.

The Albert white crew was playing a high stakes poker game

and our inside man left the back door open for us.

Three, two, one.

Give us the fucking money.

Ah, do you know whose fucking place this is? Give it!

I asked, "do you know whose fucking card game this is", you fucking dunce?

- You heard of Albert white? - Keep talking, bimbo.

Miss, come here. Come here!

Do you want a drink to go with your robbery?

No. Just the money. Put it in the bag.

Let's go. In the bag. Right here. Nice and easy.

What's your name?

Emma gould.

What's yours?

You're gonna put a sock in my mouth? That's right.

A sock? In my mouth?

Never been used before, and I wouldn't lie to you.

That's what all the liars say.

Quick, open up.

Man: Watch this guy.

Man: Hey, put your fucking hands on the table.

Great.

All right, boys. Let's go.

You've got some balls.

Just slow down and stop driving like we did something.

Relax.

We made out pretty good. It was a nice hit.

Yeah, it's all mine.

Yeah. It's a living.

Yeah, you fucking Mick. Get the fuck out of here. Drive the car.

Albert: Good afternoon.

I'm Albert white.

You must be Joe.

Coughlin.

Good to put a face to the name.

This is Brennan loomis, friend of mine.

How are you?

You're too smart for the stuff you've been pulling.

Nickel and diming with two dumb guineas.

They're your friends, but they're stupid and they're wops.

And they won't live to see 40.

Take your time.

But you can't work on your own.

Not in this town.

Joe: Albert was rounding up the troops.

There was a war going on over rum.

Dermot, go and have a word.

Joe: Albert white ran the Irish mob. Brennan, keep an eye on him.

Uh-huh.

And maso pescatore ran the Italians.

It was tit for tat.

The deadliest year in the history of Boston.

White's gang set fire to rum trucks.

Then a guy on maso's payroll

went home with a girl no one had seen before.

No winner. Just a lot of mess.

I wanted nothing to do with Albert white and his war.

But I didn't have a choice.

His girlfriend was my inside man.

And I was in love with her.

He'd kill her if she tried to leave him

and he'd kill us both 10 times over if he found out we were together.

But we were in love and we were stupid.

And every time he was out of town, we were together.

The fit was perfect.

Man: ...Get revenge on me, when I least expect it.

You just keep saying stupid things. No, I don't.

Emma: I know what you like to hear 'cause I'm no fool.

Emma: Like a book.

Mind if I join you?

Sorry, father time, we're waiting for someone.

No.

Emma, this is my father.

Tom coughlin.

Dad, this is my friend Emma gould.

Tom: Pleasure, miss gould.

Mind if I sit down?

Where are you from, miss gould?

Dorchester.

Tom: No, I meant before. You're clearly Irish.

All my mother's people are from cork.

Really? What's her maiden name?

I don't know. You don't know?

She died. She's dead, my mum, so...

So, what is it you do?

It's a real swank place, this, isn't it?

I'm aware of how my son earns a living.

I can only assume that if you've come into contact with him

it was either during a crime

or in an establishment populated by rough characters.

Are my questions making you feel uncomfortable?

I don't know what you're on about.

And to be honest, i don't really care.

I'm on about you being the type of Lassie who consorts with criminals.

The fact that the criminal is my son isn't the issue.

It is that my son is still my son.

And I have feelings that cause me

to question the wisdom of consorting with the type of woman

who knowingly consorts with criminals.

Did you follow all that? Enough, dad. Enough. Okay?

My uncle mentioned a copper on his payroll, name of coughlin.

Is that you?

This uncle would be your uncle Robert?

Who everyone knows as bobo?

No, the police officer you refer to is elmore Conklin.

He's stationed in savin hill.

He collects shakedown s from illegal establishments such as bobo's.

I rarely get over to Dorchester.

Still, as deputy superintendent

I'd be happy to take a greater interest in bobo.

I need to powder.

Was that necessary?

I didn't start the fight, Joseph.

So, don't criticize me for how I finished it.

I've been a police officer for 37 years.

If I've learned one thing above all, do you know what it is?

This gonna be another yarn from the old country?

No.

What you put out in the world will always come back to you.

But never how you predict.

I'm sure it doesn't.

Unearned confidence of that about which one is ignorant

always has the brightest glow.

I think I've earned enough.

She's quite easy on the eyes.

Yeah, she is.

Apart from that, i fail to grasp what you see in her.

Because she's from Dorchester?

That doesn't help. Her father's a pimp. Her uncle killed two men.

But I could overlook all that, Joseph, if she wasn't--

she just doesn't pretend to be something she's not.

Maybe she's just asleep.

Thanks for stopping by.

Emma: Maybe you should climb under his covers tonight.

Joe: What?

He looks at me like I'm trash.

We're not people.

We're just the goulds from Dorchester.

We tat the lace for your fucking curtains.

Jesus! You know what--

don't fucking touch me.

My whole life, i got the high hat and the icy mitt...

From people like your father.

We're not less than you.

I never said you were.

Oh, well, he did.

Fuck him, okay?

I love you.

You think love's so easy.

It can be.

Oh, god.

Come here. I don't want to.

Leave me alone! I'm sorry.

I'm sorry.

I want to go. Okay.

Okay.

Can you spare two bits?

Thanks a lot.

Joe coughlin. I got an invitation.

Put your arms up there.

I gotta check you.

Go ahead.

Joseph?

Joe coughlin. Yeah.

Pleasure.

Do you know who I am?

I know enough to show up here when I'm asked.

My name is maso pescatore.

I run the north end

and liquor coming up from Florida.

I'm a man, uh,

with the power of other men's lives in my hands.

But the truth is, uh,

I'm just a simple wop from the old country.

Today, my only true rival

is Albert white.

When that is no longer the case

we can see an end to the fighting that has plagued this town.

Well,

I got no beef with you.

But I don't truck with gangsters.

Not even a sheik like you.

You do soup jobs and stickups

but you're not a gangster.

What does that make you? I don't know.

An outlaw, I guess.