Le party

---

Liberty isn't just

a brand of yogurt.

Valium.

Percodan.

Percodan.

Largactyl.

Hey Cloutier!

Save me a seat up front, ok?

When the f*** is happy hour?

Good morning Canada,

medication rounds...

Hey screw, go home!

A n*gger's sucking off your wife.

(Kinograph) Montral

Hey, Coma!

Ready.

Thanks for the comic.

Welcome.

Spade, my boy...

tonight we're goin' out!

That's fine Mr. Tremblay.

Leave the rest.

Almost done.

See you tomorrow.

G'night.

What're you doing here?

I'm working on the show.

Let's see.

It says from the paint shop

to the gym.

Nothing 'bout here.

I need some tools.

Sure... against the wall.

Spread'em.

Go on.

Ok, strip.

Sh*t, looks good.

Not bad, try some.

Hell, it's still fermenting.

It's only been two days.

Awful.

Turn around.

Open your mouth.

Wider.

Tongue up.

Higher.

Stick it out.

Turn around.

Bend over.

More.

Spread your cheeks.

I said spread'em.

Raise your foot.

Higher.

Other one.

Higher.

Papa 5 to Papa 7.

Papa 1 in.

The gear from the show's here.

I read you, out.

Beat it.

Got much longer?

A half hour.

Bloody thing!

Hustle!

They'll be here soon.

Almost finished.

And move that cart.

Christ I'm scared.

G. G. Gagnon.

Your name?

Pat Marteau.

Fine.

Mo Mongrain,

as in Romo Mongrain.

Nice moustache.

Same color as your boots.

Same line last year.

He's heard it.

He knows'em all.

Mr Leroux! You're back!

I sure missed you guys.

How's it look?

Perfect, just perfect.

The cash?

Boyer stashed it.

Thanks.

Your name, please.

Loulou, Rose...

I'm a dancer, and you?

Journalist.

This your first time in jail?

Yeah.

Me too.

Sylvie Nantel.

Next.

Name, Miss?

Maurice Leblanc, honey.

Your queen bee just flew in.

The blue ones cost a pack

the black are two.

Where'd they come from?

That dancer at the St-Jean show,

remember her?

I'll pay you later.

Jesus I'd love

a piece of her ass!

A brunette with glasses

named Marie-Jose Drouin.

Just about Pierrot's size.

Check the readhead.

Ya listening?

Cool it. Marie Drouin,

wears glasses.

You'll get your pass.

I'd sure f*** her.

The ass on that blonde...

Too skinny! With mine,

you get your money's worth.

Grab her good...

Take that, b*tch!

Hi, I'm Jacques.

Your boyfriend sent me.

- How is he?

Having a rough time.

He can't take this,

I know him.

Getting you in

sure gave him a lift.

When can I see him?

Soon as the show starts.

We arranged the whole thing.

The inmates' committee?

Yup.

I don't understand.

Might seem strange

to an outsider.

It's what they call

"rehabilitation."

Who's "they?"

Prison authorities.

Incredible.

Yeah...

they'll do anything for the boys.

Look, I managed

to get this through.

Pass it on.

Here...

If you wanna get high...

Now the party can start.

How do you?

We use what we find

in the kitchen.

That's from tomato juice.

Ain't bad.

I'm Spokes, and you?

Loulou.

Like some peanuts?

How'd you get'em?

Well, you know...

400 thieves under one roof.

Papa 1, all clear.

Go ahead.

I wouldn't stand by the door

if I were you.

C'mon, Coma, move it.

The guy with the Elvis wave...

He's the warden.

An SOB.

Who's the lady?

Don't know her.

Some b*tch.

Must be his wife.

The man in the turtleneck?

Father Miron.

He's ok. Usually

he avoids that gang.

Boyer's not here?

Not yet.

Wait, I'll check.

And in back?

The psychiatrist.

Now there's a f***in' sicko!

Sons of b*tches.

Don't know the other guy.

A son of a b*tch.

All SOBs.

Then you've got

evaluators, psychologists,

criminologists...

They're all sons of b*tches.

So if I understand, everyone

here's a son of a b*tch.

They're guards.

It's black or white...

Isn't that a little simplistic?

That's how it is.

You got those in the cage,

and those who lock the cage.

Even when a guard's ok,

it doesn't change reality.

And what's reality?

Reality?

That's reality.

And it's a son of a b*tch.

Hi guys!

Happy to see me?

Yeah!

Even as a screw?

Better not joke about that.

Could be a long evening.

You weren't going anywhere tonight?

Guard!

What is it, Boyer?

You can't keep me in deadlock,

not with the party.

I don't make the rules.

Try to understand.

Ain't my job to understand.

You know the rules,

no cash in prison.

Act human for once.

Put me in the hole tomorrow,

but lemme out tonight.

It wasn't even my money.

Whose then?

I'm no stool.

F***!

Ya got no heart.

For $50!

Ya can't be serious!

Lemme out, ya goddamn pig.

Open the door, slob!

You trash!

Slime! Shithead!

Just wait f***in' cocksucker.

I'll cash you in!

You'll leave here with a tag

tied to your big toe!

Scumbag!

And now let's bring

on the band

.38 Calibre!

We ain't come

like some boy's choir

We ain't here

to put out your fire

Gonna see these walls a-crackin'

An' feel this joint a-rockin'

No time for tears,

no wimps here

When we put on a show

Wanna see the fuses blow

Get the blues on a roll

Let the sun set in the west

Our rock'n roll

will do the rest

Got far to go,

so let's get it on.

Smash the lock on that door

Badman's gonna settle a score

C'mon boys,

break those chains

Roll your troubles,

we got a light

No time for tears,

no wimps here

Whe we put on a show

Wanna see the fuses blow

Get the blues on a roll

Jesus, take it easy.

That thing cost $300.

I was goin' crazy,

had a 24-hour hard-on.

Sorry, maybe I'm...

It's ok.

I don't know women,

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