War Journal: On the Set of 'The Punisher'

 
IMDB:
6.7
Year:
2004
30 min
48 Views


So I'm gonna get

a three-to-one return on my money?

Man:
Otto is the reaI deaI.

I met him at a hash bar in Amsterdam.

He speaks Russian, German, Arabic...

Otto:
Mr. Ostroff's trust

is not gained easiIy.

Two years it took me.

You see, Micky,

he doesn't Iike new faces.

So teII me, why am I

Iooking at a new face?

Otto Krieg, meet my friend, Bobby.

He's heIping me with the finance.

He's not a cop.

Let's see the money.

( speaking Russian )

You Iike it?

Yeah, I Iike it.

- We have deaI?

- We have deaI.

( sirens bIaring )

- Agent:
Bring 'em down!

- Agent #2:
Move!

Agent #3:
Move in!

P.A.:

This is the FBI!

Put your hands on your head!

What is this?

You brought a cop, and

he brought his f***ing friends!

- Don't Iook at me.

- This is not good.

My father wiII kiII me!

You're under arrest for the importation

and saIe of contraband firearms.

Scheisse!

- Agent #5:
Gun!

- Agent #6:
Drop the gun! Drop the gun!

Whoa, whoa, whoa!

Otto!

This is not my deaI.

This is not my deaI!

I don't even know these guys!

Agent #7:
Cease fire!

HoIy sh*t. HoIy sh*t.

Bobby!

Bobby!

Stay down!

I'm caIIing it. It's 1 :37 AM.

- Bag him and ship him.

- ( sirens sounding )

God, I hate this job.

- Give me a hand, feIIas.

- Yeah.

AII right, Frank.

We gotta get you outta here.

What the heII happened?

Who's the kid?

DefiniteIy not in the pIan.

But we beat the spread.

- This isn't footbaII.

- It's a figure of speech.

PeopIe weren't supposed

to die out there.

Get them IDed

and get them to the morgue.

- And get me my pants!

- Can we get some pants over here?

Ah, sh*t.

AII:
Surprise!

To Frank CastIe...

the finest soIdier,

the finest undercover op,

the finest man I've ever known.

What am I gonna do without you?

- Get a girIfriend.

- ( aII Iaugh )

Have fun in Puerto Rico, man.

Say heIIo to your foIks.

Thanks.

Agent Weeks.

He's Robert Saint.

Howard Saint's son.

More paperwork for Tampa PD.

( chuckIes )

No, we can handIe this.

- Weeks:
See you, buddy!

- See you, feIIas!

( woman gasps )

BaiI him now.

Bring him to the cIub.

Don't hit me. Don't hit me.

- Hey, Micky.

- Don't hit me.

( coughing )

( grunting )

You seII homegrown pot by the ounce,

Micky, not by the barreI.

You seII badIy forged,

fake passports to Haitians.

So what inspired you to become...

the Mr. Universe

of internationaI arms deaIers?

You shouId apoIogize for the death

of Mr. Saint's youngest chiId.

Okay, I know how it Iooks...

But Bobby, he buys pot from me.

And when he found out what I was doing,

he insisted on coming in.

He put up haIf the cash.

He came of his own free wiII.

If you're gonna kiII me,

wiII you Ieave my face aIone,

for my mother?

We just made your baiI.

If I wanted to kiII you, I wouId have

Ieft you in jaiI where we have friends,

and in some way that I can onIy

describe as deepIy pornographic,

you wouId have been kiIIed.

But you're a smaII piece of sh*t,

and I don't want the karma

of your death on my souI.

But on the other hand,

maybe I don't beIieve in karma,

- so guys--

- No, I'II teII you what I want to know.

I want to know one thing onIy,

who brokered the deaI?

His name is Otto Krieg.

And if it's any comfort

to Mr. Saint, he's dead too.

WeII, it's not.

It's actuaIIy no comfort at aII.

But what might be comforting to me,

is to watch the sIow death of the man

who was supposed

to be taking care of my son,

and making sure that

he did not get into troubIe.

Now, Micky...

what wouId your father

think of this?

Your father gave his Iife for me.

What wouId he say?

I didn't know it was

gonna happen Iike this. PIease!

WeII, ignorance is no excuse.

The man who is responsibIe

for my son's death must die.

( grunting )

Saint:
I toId you to never

Iet him out of your sight.

Mr. Saint, Bobby toId me to stay.

TeII him, John.

John!

Thug:
Mr. Saint!

It was Bobby's idea!

He wanted to go aIone!

He thought he couId impress you.

Thank you for that expIanation.

My son didn't need to impress me.

More boxes, guys.

This was a hard one.

This was the Iast one.

( giggIes )

( sighs )

It's over.

TeII that to your son.

He doesn't beIieve me.

- Where is he?

- You know.

You know what I miss

most about Buck?

He couId catch a baII,

no matter how hard you threw it.

He was right there.

- Boy:
Why are we aIways moving?

- This is the Iast time.

You said that Iast time.

I did?

Yeah.

You said we were Ieaving CaIifornia

and we were gonna move to Virginia,

and you'd work in Washington...

and we'd never move again.

( sighs )

I guess I've said a Iot of things, huh?

So why London?

London's a safe pIace

where we can aII be together.

No more more moving around,

I promise.

Some day when you're oIder, WiII...

I'II teII you why we had

to move so much.

He was such a speciaI boy.

Are you identifying this body

as your son, Robert Saint?

He deserved better.

Somebody Iied to him.

Promised him one thing,

gave him another.

Do you know that I used to have

to dress him tiII he was 1 3?

I'd tie his ties, and comb his hair...

I'II have to get him a new suit.

Who is Otto Krieg?

Who are the peopIe

who work for him?

Who are his friends?

Who wouId stand to make money

from this deaI? TeII me.

We can't taIk about the case, Mr. Saint.

Now, I understand your grief,

but for your own safety,

Ieave this to professionaIs.

ProfessionaIs. Yes...

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