The Infiltrator

Synopsis: A U.S. Customs official uncovers a money laundering scheme involving Colombian drug lord Pablo Escobar.
Director(s): Brad Furman
Production: Broad Green Pictures
Rotten Tomatoes:
127 min


- Hey.

- Hey, there you are.

My favorite waitress.

Ah, you say that to every waitress.

Oh, no, no, no, you are.


Hey, you know, the last guy that paid me,

he paid me with a gram.

- A gram? Jesus...

- A gram.

This guy, he told me...

I know, right?

He told me that

he didn't carry money anymore

because money was old-fashioned.

- Really? Call me old-fashioned then.

- Old-fashioned.

Call me old-fashioned?

This guy says that...

He said that money was done.

- Yeah.

- And that what we needed was a new...

- Oh, f***, what's that word?

- A new what?

Like a new...

- Like a, you know... Come on.

- Oh, I know. No, I know what you mean.

- But you're so cute when you struggle.

- Come on.

What we need is a new currency.

- Right?

- Sh*t.

Yeah, that's what he said.

I liked that guy.

I bet you did.

- I can't have that.

- Not right now.

Maybe later.

I'll come find you later.

I'm gonna keep your 20.

Keep the 20, that's for you, doll.

Now I am gonna watch you wiggle away.

Wiggle away-

Hey, keep your eyes off my girlfriend.

Hey, you believe I bowled a 240

in Monday's league?

Bowling. Mi fa cagare!


You know, my people say

they can handle more.

That's just what my people like to hear.

How's 10 keys?

- It's not too heavy for me.

- Great.

Hey, let's get the f*** out of here.

Yeah. It stinks like something's burning.


- Jesus. God.

- What?

- What is it?

- No, no, it's all right.

- It's all right. I just...

- You're all right?

It's like indigestion, or my gallbladder,

or something. It's all right.

You think I wanna

count 40 grand in ones, Mangione?

What, do I look like a banker to you?

It's all there.

Man, I swear something is burning.

What the f***?

- Sh*t. Come on.

- No, no, no.

- It's like my appendix burst or something...

- F***.

Let me get you out of here. Come on.

- Get on the ground!

- Get on the ground!

- Get on the ground!

- Get on the ground now!

Let's go! Now!

Get your f***ing hands off me!

Let's go, let's go.

Hey, don't worry, Bob.

Our people will get us out of this.

Shut it. Shut it.

You okay? You all right?

Come on.

Holy sh*t.

Okay, let's go, let's go.

- Hey.-

- Hey.-

What are you doing up?

Couldn't sleep.

- You couldn't sleep?

- No.

- Did it go okay?

- Oh, yeah. Piece of cake.


is Bob Mangione dead?


He's dead, all right. Deep fried.

So, my niece and nephew,

are they good?

Look at them. They're good.

Yeah, yeah. That's good.

Because kids need a lot, you know.

Tell me about it.

So, Bobby, tell me.


How much you get?

Come on.

Aunt Vicky, we have been through this.

I work for the government.

You don't get a piece of the action?

No. A piece of the action?

- What, 10, 20%?

- No, not a dime.

Ah... And they call us criminals.

Eh. You should have stayed

with the accounting.

You could have cooked your uncle's books.

You could have owned this place by now.

Everyone needs a beachfront address.

I got six of them.

Yeah, well,

I just don't live in your world.

I'm afraid you do.

A little advice, Bobby?

Yeah, sure.

When your Uncle Al died,

I didn't become a little old bag lady

in a bag dress.

No, no, no, I pulled myself up,

carried on in his name,

even when I didn't have enough

to buy a loaf of bread.

No one knew nothing.

I didn't have a pot to piss in,

but I had a Caddy,

20 Chanel suits, diamonds up my throat,

and season tickets to the Giants.

And nobody was giving me nothing.

- Nobody.

- Aunt Vicky, what do you want from me?

Bobby, Bobby, Bobby.

Please, dear.

Don't be Bobby Loser.

Be Bobby Somebody.

Listen up. It's bad out there,

so a couple of team changes.

Peters, you're with Sanchez.

Mazur, you're with Abreu.

What about Cooky?

You'll still report to Steve,

but he'll ride the desk on this one.

Hit the lights.


When I say bad, I mean the County Morgue had

to rent Burger King's refrigerated trucks

to ice all the dead bodies

littering our sunny streets.

Score. Cartel 100, Customs zero.

Meet with your connects,

talk to your informants, do your job.

All right, out, out, out. Everybody out.

You understand me?

Before I go to jail,

I swear on my f***ing kids,

I'm gonna put someone on Jeff.

You tell Jeff to meet me

at his father's development.

We'll go in the big pool.

And I'm gonna go in naked

so he doesn't have to worry

about me having a gun.

'Cause I'm gonna bite

the motherf***er's cock off

- and I'm gonna spit it in his wife's mouth.

- Enough. Enough.

Bond denied. Take him away.

Hey, f*** you, buddy.


Order. Take him away.

- Get the f*** off me.

- Mr. Myers...

I wonder what Sunday dinner

is like at his place.

Advise your client that if there's another

outburst like this, he's going to...

I need to tell you

because of your wound, you're eligible

for retirement with full benefits.

I'd hate to lose you, Bob.

Once your children

walk out the door, they're on their own.

Say no...

Uh-huh. Huh...

- Okay. Uh, Colonel

Mustard, in the library...

- He's always the guy.

- (ON TV Do you want some reefer?

- Four.

- It'll make you feel good.

No, no, no.

Hello? Hello?

Help your children to just say no.

Hello? Anybody home?

I'm not a Jehovah's.

Hey, Mrs. Mazur, pardon.

- I'm sorry, but I'm with Customs.

- Stay here. No, no, it's okay.

- Who's that?

- I don't know.

We're gonna have a little chat outside.

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Ellen Sue Brown

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Submitted on August 05, 2018

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