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Братья Блюз

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They left this card. Maybe it'll help.
Thanks.
Thank you. You're marvellous.
Thank you. I'm Murph,
and these are the Magic Tones.
Steve "The Colonel" Cropper,
Donald "Duck" Dunn...
Willie "Too Big" Hall
and Tom "Bones" Malone.
We'll be back with the Magic Tones
for the Armada Room's...
two-hour disco swing party
after this short break.
Till then, don't you go changing.
So you're out. You're free.
You're rehabilitated.
What's next? What's happening?
What you gonna do?
You got the money you owe us,
mother-fucker?
Let's get something
straight here.
The reason he got locked in the slam
in the first place...
was for sticking up a gas station
to cover you guys.
You're kidding.
He pulled that job to pay
for the band's room-service tab...
from that Kiwanis gig
in Coal City.
- You did?
- That's right.
So I don't want to hear
any more of this small-change shit.
We're putting the band
back together.
Who here at this table
can honestly say...
that they played any finer
or felt any better than they did...
when they were
with the Blues Brothers?
You were the backbone...
the nerve centre
of a great rhythm-and-blues band.
You can make that live,
breathe and jump again.
Murph and the Magic Tones?
Look at you in those
candy-ass monkey suits.
And I thought
I had it bad in joliet.
At least we got
a change in clothes.
You're wearing the same shit
from three years ago.
Jake ain't lying, though.
We had a band powerful enough
to turn goat piss into gasoline.
We'll never get that fat sound again
without more horns.
We'll never get Mr Fabulous.
- Where is he?
- Forget it.
Mr Fabulous is the top maitre d'
at the Chez Paul.
He's pullin' down
six bills a week.
- Matt Murphy got married.
- Where is Matt "Guitar" Murphy?
He opened a restaurant with his old lady
on Maxwell Street...
and he took Blue Lou with him.
You'll never get Matt and Mr Fabulous
out of them high-paying gigs.
Oh, yeah?
Well, me and the Lord...
we got an understanding.
We're on a mission from God.
Mainly French cuisine.
No, sir. Mayor Daley no longer
dines here. He's dead, sir.
Private dining rooms
are available.
Oh, no. It was supposed to be
five years.
Didn't you get five years?
No, sir, not you.
And your name, sir?
Rizzolo, for eight at 11:30.
Thank you.
Mr Fabulous,
how marvellous it is to see you.
- You're looking younger than ever.
- Wait. You guys can't come in here.
Nonsense, my dear fellow.
My brother and I
have come to dine...
to celebrate my early release
from the service of the state.
Wait. Let's talk outside.
- Let's have a cup of coffee outside.
- Why, heavens, no.
We seek a full meal and all
the compliments of the house.
Come, Elwood.
Let us adjourn ourselves
to the nearest table...
and overlook this establishment's
board of fare.
Good evening. Chez Paul.
Wait! Hey!
Sir, do you mind calling back
in about five minutes, please?
We'll have a table
in a few moments.
Excuse me.
Give us a bottle
of your finest champagne...
five shrimp cocktails
and some bread for my brother.
We have a Dom Pйrignon '71
at $ 120.
That'll be fine, pal.
Seriously, the food here is really
expensive. The soup is fucking $ 10!
Let's go outside.
I'll buy you a cup of coffee.
We're putting the band
back together.
- Forget it. No way.
- We're on a mission from God.
Hold it. Hold it.
What's this?
Waiter? Sir?
Please, waiter?
Yes, sir? How are your salads?
The salads are fine.
It's just that we'd like
to move to another table...
away from those two gentlemen.
Why? Have they been
disturbing you?
No. It's just that...
Well, frankly,
they're offensive-smelling.
I mean, they smell bad.
Excuse me. I'll see if I can locate
another table for you.
Thank you.
Wrong glass, sir.
How much for the little girl?
- The women? How much for the women?
- What?
I want to buy your women.
Your little girl. Your daughters.
Sell them to me.
- Sell me your children.
- Maitre
Братья Блюз Братья Блюз

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