City Streets

Synopsis: Nan, a racketeer's daughter, is in love with The Kid, a shooting gallery showman. Despite Nan's prodding, The Kid has no ambitions about joining the rackets and making enough money to support Nan in the lifestyle she's accustomed to. Her attitude changes after her father implicates her in a murder and she's sent to prison. During her incarceration, her father convinces The Kid to join the gang in order to help free Nan. When Nan is released, she wants nothing more to do with the mob and tries to get The Kid to quit, but she may be too late.
Director(s): Rouben Mamoulian
Production: Paramount Pictures
  1 win.
 
IMDB:
7.2
Rotten Tomatoes:
80%
PASSED
Year:
1931
83 min
107 Views


You gotta admit...

it's a pretty swell-lookin' layout.

I'll buy.

-Yeah?

But I can't do nothin'

until The Big Fella gets here.

Here he comes now.

He's the boss, you know.

Hello, Big Fella!

How's tricks?

Well... how about it?

Sold!

You're lucky...

You're getting paid for it.

You ain't got no right...

on this side of the river, anyway.

No hard feelings.

No... sure not.

I'm moving my Mob in... tomorrow.

OK... tomorrow.

"No hard feelings."

Nobody could hit nothin'

with this piece of tin.

Now what do you want Poppa to hit?

You ain't hit anything, yet!

Try the ceiling...

aim straight up!

Hey, look out...

What do you think you're doing?!

I guess I know what I'm aiming at.

You may be, but not with your head.

I'm aiming at that little duck

over in the corner.

By the way you're shootin' Mister,

I'd rather you aimed at ME!

You can't hit anything with that.

You do it for me.

Come on, show me.

You showing off again?

Shooting all my profits away.

Every cent I make!

That's what you do

every time I turn my back.

Why, you'll pay for every one of them

out of your salary!

And the next time you are

caught shooting, you are fired.

Where are you going?

Supper.

Alright, but see you get back

in half an hour.

Alright boys...

see how good you can shoot.

Would he really fire you?

No, he's just like an old bull

we had back on the ranch.

He stamps around a lot,

but he hasn't got any horns.

Hi, Nelly!

Hi there, Kid!

I almost wish he would fire you.

How's that?

Then you could get into a regular job...

Something good.

You're into your usual number

again?

You think you're pretty tall

and smart, don't you?!

Come here!

That's what you really look like.

Yeah?..

Take a look at yourself!

I don't look like that!

Let me go!

Aren't you gonna get any supper?

-I'm not hungry.

Well, I am...

I'm starved!

Want a weenie?

-My love.

How many?

-Two.

I can't eat two!

Elephant.

-YOU again?!

Say, listen, Kid... I've had about enough

of you round here.

This ain't even

for a person anyway.

Didn't I tell you

about that guy before?

You oughtn't to be wastin' your dough

in these joints.

I won something,

didn't I?

Another elephant.

Do you want it?

-Sure!

Thank you!

That's alright.

Gosh, it's great!

It sure is.

I love it when it's really rough...

And the big ones come tearing in.

I remember the rollers...

they looked a mile high.

And when they hit...

Boy!

I got all soaked.

Gee, it was swell!

Yeah, I know.

I used to want to be a sailor

before I made up my mind...

about the circus.

You sure go for jobs

with no dough!

There's plenty of money

in the circus.

I can shoot and throw a rope

and do trick-ridin'.

I used to ride some pretty tough broncs

back on the ranch.

You'll probably get stranded again,

the way you did with the rodeo.

Only next time you won't even land

with a pop-gun joint.

Money isn't everything.

People use it sometimes

to get married on.

Don't you worry... I'm gonna

make plenty of money for both of us.

Oh, Kid... Why won't you let me

talk to Pop?

He could put you in right.

Doin' what?

Beer!

I wouldn't like that kind of work.

It isn't work...

You just go round and collect

from saps that do.

That's all Pop does.

And he's always got a big roll.

Gee, you could be smarter than him.

We could have cars

and servants.

And everything!

I wish you weren't

in that racket.

You'd have different ideas

about things.

Where have your ideas got you?

We can't even afford

to get married.

If you loved me,

you'd marry me anyway.

Yeah... and live in a tent!

Why not?

I don't like tents.

It isn't the tents.

It's me.

You don't really love me.

Don't be a sap!

I want to see you make something

of yourself.

A racketeer like that step-father

of yours.

What's the matter with racketeers?

Anyway, they're smart!

They're not dumb...

...like somebody I know.

Yeah?

Well then, why don't you get yourself

a racketeer.

Well, maybe I will!

Go ahead, you big dummy!

Wait a minute!

That's yours!

Thanks.

Oh, Kid... I'm sorry...

I didn't mean it.

Yes you did!

-I didn't, Kid, honest I didn't!

Yes, you did.

You think I'm a sap!

Of course I do, Kid...

But I love you... on the level!

No you don't.

Yes I do, I do!

I DO love you!

No you don't.

-I do!

I love you!

Gee...

I gotta get back!

Gosh, your late, too.

Happened before.

Meet me when the shootin'-gallery closes?

Yeah... Pop's gotta go out,

but I'll be back at 12 o'clock.

Hello.

-Come here.

Come here!

Where've you been?

Where've you been?

I said where've you been?

Out with that shootin'-gallery mug again?

Answer me!

Come on!

Spill it!

Good kid!

You'll never tell nobody nothin'!

Here... for keepin' your trap shut.

Good kid!

I gotta go over to Blackie's.

Stick around, till I get back.

Lay off!

That's mine!

You picked yourself a big-shot alright!

Go ahead... laugh!

He may not be a big-shot but he can

shoot better than anybody in THIS Mob.

Yeah?

I saw him shoot a cigar

out of a guy's mouth, once...

...when the guy got fresh.

Cigar? You don't say!

Jackie ain't sung a tune all day.

I'm worried about it.

Well, goodnight, Blackie.

Get in there, you!

Don't get sore, Blackie!

It was just a good-night kiss.

A good-bye kiss, you mean!

Oh, you don't scare me!

Just because you're running this Mob,

don't mean you can pull anything like that.

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Oliver H.P. Garrett

Oliver H.P. Garrett (May 6, 1894 – February 22, 1952) was an American film director, writer, newspaperman, rifleman and usher. more…

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Submitted on August 05, 2018

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