The Marvelous Mrs. Maisel

One less angel in heaven, baby!

The guy at table six took his dick out again.

Table six took his dick out!

Table six took his dick out!

- Motherfucker! - Trixie's down!

Trixie, you okay? Hey, Jerry!

That was the sweet, saintly Philomena.

Heavenly, wouldn't you say?

Motherfuck, my fucking head!

And that was Philomena's foulmouthed friend,

- Philadelphia. - Take it off!

Sweet thought, but I think I'll keep it on.

- Take it off! - Take it off!

- Take it off! - We're not kidding!

Guys, hear me. By the time I finish

unzipping, unfastening and unhooking

the medieval contraption of rayon and rubber

that is my girdle, you'll all be back in bed with your wives

telling them how much you hated working late.

Well, you didn't say

you were gonna throw an oily, crumpled dollar bill at me.

Now it's coming off.

- Maisel! - Oops, no time.

Uh, but hold on to your Great Gatsbys, guys,

'cause here comes our salute to the Roaring '20s.

But first, Sapphira, Lonely Harem Girl.

- What the hell? - I didn't know.

No one knows shit around here.

Three, four.

Boise, what happened to the Roaring '20s?

Trixie got beaned by the wire.

- I saw. I heard. - So we went with Harem Girl.

- Without telling me. - You were onstage.

Getting the crowd excited for a sexy flapper.

- We confused them. - Look, as long as some girl's

out there shaking her chichis, those guys don't care

- how the fuck they're dressed. - I disagree.

With Sapphira the Harem Girl, they're anticipating

sultry, mysterious chichis,

not the bippity-boppity chichis of the Roaring '20s girl.

Look, no one's confused

'cause no one's hardly listening to you.

- I take offense at that. - You all do.

Can do better than this, Boise.

Talk to Clifford. He signs the checks.

- Ooh! - Excusez-moi.

Hey, everyone. Uh, Boise's not so great

at formal introductions, so I wanted to introduce myself.

Hi. I'm Midge.

Mrs. Maisel. I'm the new MC

here at the Wolf,

so any of you want to add a dash of humor to your routines,

consider me your comedy consultant.

Okay, well...

As you were.

Ooh! Sorry.

Come on, six. Come on, six.

Oh! The hard way!

- Let's go again. Come on. - Raking it in.

- Yes. - Damn.

Clifford.

- Cup of coffee for you. - On a hot one tonight!

I know you like one right around now. Oh.

Come on, dice! Dice...

Smells fresh.

Crap! It's supposed to.

So, I would love to suggest some small improvements

that I think would make the club all that it can be.

Yeah, uh...

A better system for announcing the acts would be great.

Plus, there are a lot of avoidable injuries.

Maybe we should have a safety meeting.

- Uh... - In the Catskills,

I was frequently voted safety monitor

for various activities: Water sports, backpacking.

We were hiking once, and the rabbi

thought for sure he got bit by a snake.

I sucked on that man till he almost passed out.

On his ankle, that is.

Turned out to just be a couple of mosquito bites,

but people sure got a laugh out of it.

- Mm-hmm. - Anyway, have a...

have a... think on that.

And...

That's a safety risk, too.

Fucking angel.

Let me bum one.

Did you hear what happened out there?

Flapper got her head smashed in.

Heard the cursing. Sounded kind of funny.

Wasn't funny. It's sloppy.

This place has a lot of work to do.

It's a strip club. As long as a girl's up there

shaking her chichis, none of it matters.

Maisel!

Sapphira's wrapping up.

- See you tomorrow. - See you tomorrow.

- Who's next? - Annie Oakley.

- Thank you. - Or Brenda the Bird Girl.

- Take it off! - Hey, there. You miss me?

Take it off!

Chester, you left the fucking door open again.

How many times do I got to...

Is this something icky?

- You must be Susie. - Yeah.

I'm Nancy. Jackie's sister.

- Oh. Well, he's... - Dead.

He's dead.

I'm sorry, what?

A stroke sometime this afternoon.

A stroke?

I was actually at his bedside before he passed.

He was still talking.

Yeah, he likes to talk.

His final words were actually for you.

For me?

I wrote them down so I wouldn't forget.

"Susie,

the guys are coming to sand the floor at noon.

Be there to let them in.

They're flaky, so fuck knows if they'll show.

Remember, Monday's a holiday,

so don't put the garbage out Sunday night.

We already got one ticket from the city.

If you're going to make spaghetti sauce,

push the curtains back, because you splash a lot,

and you can't get sauce

out of that fabric. It's just too delicate."

Plastic.

The modern miracle.

And, ladies, these are some of the finest plastic products

- on the household market. - They sure are.

There's so much to choose from.

There's so many convenient sizes,

so many vivid colors.

And you are going to want it all.

This is the Wonderlier.

That's such a cute name. I love that name.

And for sizable suppers,

the large Wonderlier.

Well, I have to have two of everything now.

It's just so good! Sign me up.

Uh, pass the Wonderliers around,

ladies, and I will be right back.

Oh, ladies, do I have a story for you.

- I know a girl... - You'd have less need for Tupperware

if you weren't just cooking for one.

- Can we set up a lunch? - Uh, Mama,

Jean here is missing out on the demonstration.

Why don't you get back to the group, Jean.

Miriam, I'm trying to make a sale here.

And so am I. Beat it.

She's making dinner,

and in comes a burglar with a gun.

She screams, he shoots,

and the Tupperware she was holding stops the bullet.

I mean, they don't even mention that

- in the literature. - Imogene.

Dial it down, woman.

Midge, do you want to make some sales or not?

Yes. Showing them how to burp

a two-quart is not going to move product,

and you are here to move product.

Now sell.

Ladies, I think it's time to get those order forms out.

And when that is done, I will announce the winner

of the silliest Tupperware hat.

Oh, my God.

What? Are you okay?

Uh...

Everyone, uh, please excuse me.

- Imogene? - I got it.

Let's drop the bullshit, ladies,

and make some deals.

You need to eat.

- Mm-hmm. - This hot plate is no good.

I don't think all this is gonna fit.

- How's that sandwich? - Great.

Hot here, cold here.

Okay, we're officially out of room.

What? No. The pudding has to go in there.

- Don't think so. - Oh, strudel.

Okay, we can freeze the chicken.

- Where's the freezer? - Up there.

What is this place, the gulag?

Oh, I made Zelda mad.

- I didn't know you could make Zelda mad. - Trade you.

All the lady magazines say you should defrost once a month.

- This is crazy. - Mmm, good coffee.

- Oh, you've got ants. - You should've called me.

I called you.

I mean the minute you found out.

I don't want you sitting in a dark apartment,

drinking for hours by yourself at a time like this.

- I'm here. - Now you're mad

- just like Zelda. - I'm not mad.

Jackie's dead.

I know, honey.

Really?

He was here all alone, then bam.