The Killer Elite

Synopsis: Mike Locken is one of the principal members of a group of freelance spies. A significant portion of their work is for the C.I.A. and while on a case for them, one of his friends turns on him and shoots him in the elbow and knee. His assignment, to protect someone, goes down in flames. He is nearly crippled, but with braces is able to again become mobile. For revenge as much as anything else, Mike goes after his ex-friend.
Director(s): Sam Peckinpah
Production: MGM Home Entertainment
 
IMDB:
6.0
Rotten Tomatoes:
55%
PG
Year:
1975
122 min
349 Views


Gentlemen, please.

Go, go, go!

There go our Wheat Thins.

- Right. Right.

- Are you part of the organisation?

- Huh?

- We're ComTeg.

- We just pick up and deliver.

- Yeah. Pizza, Chinese food, any food.

Relax, Mr Vorodny.

I'll be your guide tonight.

Thank you.

Are you connected with the CIA?

- The what?

- The CIA.

What's the CIA?

Circumcised Italian Americans.

Chinese Inbreds. That's no sh*t.

- We don't know nothin' about the CIA.

- Not really. Not too much.

- We're a private intelligence agency.

- Where do we go from here?

You're goin' to a duck farm.

We're goin' to party.

62. 63. 64. 65.

66. 67. 68. 69.

70. 71. 72. 73...

- Well, George?

- A pile of greens couldn't get me past 50.

I concede.

- That's a cop-out.

- You deserve the best, baby.

~ You belong to my heart... ~

OK, folks, the party's over. Let's go.

You gotta go to bed.

You want me to wake you up?

Take it easy.

Well, you wind up with the paper.

Come on, sweet thing.

Come on, try something that'll help ya.

Ohh!

Let's go. Five o'clock. Let's go.

- Five o'clock.

- Let's go.

Mm...

Please, five more minutes.

They screwed us out of 20 minutes

yesterday. Better get goin'.

- I gotta shower and shave, man.

- Here's your juice.

You can shower there.

- OK.

- Let's go.

Excuse me, honey.

I got some news.

- Yeah, what is it?

- Bad. Bad news.

Bad, bad news?

What is it?

- Do you feel all right?

- Yeah, not so bad.

You OK?

- What'd you do in there?

- What's the matter with you?

~ Ridin' on that blue river train ~

~ Ridin' on that blue river train ~

~ Ridin' on that blue river, ridin' on that

blue river, ridin' on that blue river train ~

Give me $100.

What can you do with this stuff?

It's monopoly money.

- Just get rid of it.

- Yeah.

What do you think of

that chick you left in bed?

- She's pretty nice.

- Yeah?

You're up tonight. She thinks we're

a couple of fags cos we split the rent.

- Not me, buddy boy.

- Why not?

I'm nosy. I was snoopin' in her purse, and

I came across this important document.

That's why girls don't go for you.

You're always doin' stuff like that.

That's really bad news.

"Dear Miss Summers,

your Pap test returned and is negative,

but you do show conclusive evidence

of vaginal infection."

"Please call for an appointment

to see me as soon as possible."

"Respectfully yours, Dr L Wolfberg."

Oh, God.

The clinic.

Dirty guy.

Dirty.

Oh, Dr Wolfberg!

Holy Jesus!

Dirty guy! What does "vaginal infection"

mean? That don't have to mean nothin'.

"Vaginal infection" means she's got

a disease. A disease of the...

- Di-di-di-di-di-di-di-di-di-di!

- Flicker!

What's a purple grackle go like?

Give me the Maryland state bird, man.

No. Witchitty-witchitty-

witchitty-witchitty-witchitty!

Why didn't you stop me, man?

Why didn't you stop me?

- From what?

- From goin' on.

You know, I think you deserve

a round of applause.

~ Ramona, I hear

the mission bells a-calling ~

~ Ramona... ~

Come on, keep singing.

Vaginal infection.

Oh, I'm gonna be sick.

Our bums are late.

Our bums or someone else's?

- ~ Ramona... ~

- That's your signal.

Sing it out! I said sing it out!

Jeannie with the light-brown smash!

- How would you rate him?

- He's a good man.

Not like you, you dirty rat bastard.

Why'd you leave me with her

all night without tellin' me?

I know you don't have any prejudice,

and besides, I didn't wanna disturb you.

- I'll get even.

- You'll never get a chance.

- Comin' in, Scottie!

- OK, one at a time. Come in.

- Sorry we're late.

- Yep, sure you are.

Yesterday we ran 20 minutes late.

Now you guys are damn near 40.

- What can I tell ya?

- Outside of that, no flap.

We watched some horny ducks on the late

infrared show. Ever see a duck make it?

- I don't wanna talk about it.

- Wait a minute.

- I don't wanna talk about it.

- It's a good show. It's not a great show.

But it's a good show.

See you tomorrow at three o'clock sharp.

And how are you, Mr Vorodny?

Impatient.

- Today?

- Today what?

I was supposed to have been

taken out by Wednesday.

- That was part of my agreement.

- We're not the CIA.

We know nothin'. We're hired to protect

the goods, and you're good to somebody.

Think of us that way and you'll

stay alive and be a lot happier, huh?

I've been told you have

never lost one of us yet.

Well, you're wrong there.

Mr Gunther Rachman.

- Rachman hanged himself.

- I ain't talkin' to you.

Look, I was only kidding, grouch.

I had 50 of these printed up.

All I have to do is fill in the blank.

What?

What? You mean that's not for real?

No, we've passed 'em all over

North Beach. Oh, my God...

- You think that's funny? Think it's funny?

- I thought it was pretty funny.

- I don't.

- You're safe now.

Dirty guy!

I've requested a town in Oregon.

Crazy world.

One more foreigner in a small town

somewhere, with a pension.

I've asked for a town

where I can raise hops.

Without hops we have no beer.

I will call myself Thomas Mix.

Do you like the name Mr Mix?

You're a ward of the CIA,

Brewmeister Mix. Ask them.

You all look alike, you young

mercenaries. No matter what country.

We're all idealists.

You think we do it for the money?

I don't feel very well.

Maybe it's our water.

You have no idea...

what it's like to live in a closed society.

No, I guess I don't.

How you doin'?

Huh?

Who's watchin' the store?

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Marc Norman

Marc Norman (born 1941, Los Angeles, California) is an American screenwriter. more…

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Submitted on August 05, 2018

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