script without owner found at Weekly Script, where they call the use of it fair use. If the owner of the script has anything against his script posted here, please contact me.
Based on the book, “Donnie Brasco”
Joseph D. Pistone with Richard Woodley
July 27, 1992
EXT. DAY. WASHINGTON, D.C.
An AERIAL VIEW of the nation’s capital, MOVING IN on the
stolid limestone box of FBI HEADQUARTERS. Supered below:
FBI HEADQUARTERS. WASHINGTON, D.C. 1981.
INT. DAY. FBI HEADQUARTERS
A spacious corner OFFICE. American flag, FBI seal, and a
plush carpet — Federal blue.
CLENDON HOGUE, 40s, barrel chest, shrewd eyes over half-moon
glasses, PRESIDES behind a vast desk. The impressive mien of
earned authority. Before him:
JULES BONOVOLONTA, late 40s, Green Beret veteran, SUPERVISOR,
140 pounds of pugnacity and gristle. Ex-street agent cramped
PAT MARSHALL, late 30s, a CASE AGENT, compulsively organized,
with haunted choirboy’s eyes.
CLARENCE LEBOW, early 40s. Assistant SECTION CHIEF. Brooks
Brothers, heavy starch.
It’s going down tonight.
Says who? A fucking wire.
A reliable wire.
A fiction writer.
Hogue peruses SURVEILLANCE PHOTOS of Sonny Red and Sonny
Black. Then reads the INFORMANT’S REPORT.
Is that the 209, sir?
There’s going to be a war between
Sonny Red and Sonny Black — it’s
all over the streets.
Clarence, you couldn’t find the
streets with an asphalt detector.
Sonny Black goes, everyone with him
That’s doesn’t mean it’s tonight.
Even if it’s not tonight — and I’m
not saying it’s not tonight — it
could still be tonight because it
could be any night.
Fuck you, Clarence.
Hey! I’m a Mormon!
You have some objection to these
guys killing each other?
It’s just that — one of them’s one
An agent. Undercover.
Then why are you depending on an
informant? What does the agent say?
(off awkward looks)
When’s the last time you spoke to
Three weeks and two days.
He checks in every three weeks?
He checks in when he checks in, sir.
We had to make up the rules as we
went along —
My predecessor started this?
It’s been five years.
Five years and three months.
I am not gonna blow a chance to
cripple the entire fucking Mafia
just because some fucking empty suit
in Blue Carpet Land —
I am so sick of your superior New
York attitude —
— thinks there’s gonna be a shootout
tonight after the fucking tarantella.
You’re going to risk a man’s life
just to make cases.
Making those cases is his life.
And how many cases do we have?
A hundred, two hundred…
The truth is we don’t know.
Let me get this straight. Nobody
knows where he is. Nobody’s spoken
to him. He’s been undercover five
years. He might very well get killed
tonight — at a fucking wedding —
not because he’s one of us, but
because he’s one of them. I’ve been
on the job one fucking week. And
it’s my fucking decision? How the
hell did this happen?
Awkward looks and foot shuffling all around.
What time’s the wedding?
Eight o’clock tonight.
on the wall reads “9:36.”
Who is this fucking guy?
INT. NIGHT. BAR WASHINGTON (1975)
JOE PISTONE, 30s, athlete’s build, body languid with a
killer’s confidence. Eyes dead as a shark’s. He chafes at
his rep-striped tie and off-the-rack suit.
LeBow, Marshall, and two other SUITS around the table. Jules
delivers a TOAST. Supered below:
BLACKIE’S. WASHINGTON, D.C.
…And so, Joe, we wish you bon voyage
with this farewell drink. We’d give
you a farewell dinner — but why
spend all that money when you’ll
just come crawling back to your old
Laughter around the table. The CLINK of glasses…
I would love to know how you sold
them on this.
I told them I wanted to get far away
from you, Clarence, They got it
We’ve had our best guys on this since,
what, Valachi? Twenty years?
Who knows? We never tried anything
What does that tell you?
The Director thought it would be too
Then maybe I should do it. I’m in a
mood to be corrupted.
You know what these people are like.
They’re all married to each other’s
It’s six months.
I think it’s great. Undercover’s a
new area. Get in on the ground floor.
It’s a wild goose chase. I’m saying
this as a friend.
What do I know? I’m just a dumb
Don’t talk that way, Joe.
Because, you know, you are just a
LAUGHTER from the group. Joe doesn’t know whether to join in
or punch somebody. Jules hands him a large beribboned BOX.
Here you go, Joe.
Joe opens the box. A wide-brimmed Al Capone FEDORA. Uproarious
laughter from the group.
If you already have one, you can
Put it on!
Against his will, Joe puts on the hat. More laughter from
EXT. DAY. SUBURBS
Three exuberant TOMBOYS play football on the front lawn of a
modest split-level home: TERRY, 13, rebel in a hurry; KERRY,
10, the good girl; and SHERRY, 8, the baby.
Terry hikes the ball, drops back to throw…
spirals up into the air… where it’s INTERCEPTED by Joe,
who appears out of nowhere.
Joe feints, tries to dodge the girls… Then sidesteps…
I’m out of bounds. Stop! This —
look — this is out of bounds!
They tackle him anyway. Grab his legs till he TOPPLES in a
MAGGIE PISTONE, a pretty, strong-willed blonde in her 30s,
emerges at the front door. SMILES at the scene. Then FROWNS
as she realizes —
INT. LATER. LAUNDRY ROOM
Joe stands in his suit jacket and boxer shorts while Maggie
tries to remove the GRASS STAINS on the pants knees.
I swear to God, Joe, I have to spray
you with Scotchgard every morning.
Joe embraces her from behind.
What am I supposed to do? Terry
tackles like her mother.
He gropes at her. She moves his hands off…
His hands go back to groping. She smacks them….
Roughing the passer.
I suppose I should be grateful that
it’s not blood stains, or powder
burns. Like the old days.
I got some good news today. We’re
going back to Jersey.
You’re kidding! You got transferred?
The kids can see their grandparents.
Plus it’s GS-13. That’s two thousand
My God! When did this all happen?
What aren’t you telling me?
I know enough about the Bureau that
nothing happens this quickly, Joe.
Especially if it involves a raise.
Remember that guy I met at Quantico,
that supervisor? Berada? Be asked
for me. Safe and Hijackings, in New
But this is a desk job, right?
I thought we agreed about you going
back on the street again.
This is different. It’s undercover.
What does that mean, undercover?
Undercover. You know, undercover.
Will you come home at night?
It’s a good opportunity.
Undercover in what?
An FBI wife doesn’t ask, Maggie.
Will you be home on the weekends?
It’s just six months.
You waited till this was all decided.
You never asked me — you knew what
I was going to say. What do you want
from me, Joe?
I want you to say, ‘It’s okay’. ‘It’s
You finally got to headquarters and
now you’re going back on the street.
Don’t you understand? I buy a Brooks
Brothers suit but there’s always a
button that comes off or a stain
that won’t come out — it’s like the
suit knows I don’t belong in it. I
sit in a room with Clarence and the
rest of them and the only way I know
something’s funny is when everyone
else laughs. Everything, all day,
This much off.
You’re as smart as they are.
I could be a fucking Ph.D. from
Harvard and it wouldn’t matter — I
cannot win. To do something that’s
never been done, that they say can’t
be done, that they can’t do — don’t
you see? That’s the only way I’m
ever gonna fit in with them. On my
She looks at him. Smiles. She loves him for who he is, as
frustrating as that can be. She embraces, kisses him.
Well, at least you warned me.
Remember? ‘Maggie, if you marry me…
…you’re in for a big adventure.’
They kiss again. And kiss. Joe kicks the door to the laundry
room SHUT behind him.
— Present day. The CLOCK at FBI headquarters: 10:07. Hogue
RIPS through the case file. A LETTER addressed to the Director
of the FBI:
‘To Director: Surveillance and
informant contacts to date have been
— Joe is ushered through the fluorescent-lit warren that is
the BULLPEN of the New York FBI office. Shakes hands with
GUY BERADA, 50s, a Bronx bull with an unlit cigar.
‘…regarding being able to penetrate
the conveyance of stolen property by
La Cosa Nostra…’
— Joe lines up at the DMV. FLASH! — his photo for a driver’s
Now he’s DONNIE BRASCO. The name types out:
…UCA Joseph D. Piston utilizing
the name ‘Donnie Brasco’…
— An FBI COMPUTER prints out a “yellow sheet” of his prior
arrests for burglary — “a.k.a. DON THE JEWELER”…
— In the jewelry district, a HASIDIC JEW tutors Donnie, who
looks at a diamond through a loupe… Donnie surveys a small
APARTMENT with a REALTOR… Donnie opens a BANK ACCOUNT…
BACK TO PRESENT DAY
— Hogue reads down the BUDGET for the operation…
Furniture… $ 90.30
Utilities… $ 35.00
Rental car… $220.00
Spending money $800.00
‘…This would be accomplished by
UCA frequenting locations listed
below and attempting to engage in
conversation and do business with
— Donnie sits in Carmelo’s drinking club soda and watching
basketball. At the other end of the bar, two TOUGH GUYS play
DISSOLVE to another night, another game, another barstool —
CLOSER to the Tough Guys… On the backgammon board, as the
pieces move closer to the goal…
DISSOLVE to another night, as Donnie moves closer to the
game… On the board again, as the pieces move closer…
DISSOLVE to another night, as Donnie moves closer… And
another… On the board, as the pieces move closer, and the
hand moving them… belongs to Donnie.
— Donnie enters his apartment, sparsely furnished with a
bed, TV, weight bench and weights… Gets on the phone…
STEVE BURSEY, 30s, Donnie’s wiry and wild-eyed CONTACT AGENT,
on the “hello phone” at the FBI office in New York.
Donnie at a PAY PHONE.
Is this Bursey?
Bursey cradles the phone on his shoulder, TYPES…
To the file: Contact with UCA on
July 7, 1976…
BACK TO PRESENT DAY
— Hogue reviews SURVEILLANCE PHOTOS of Donnie in Carmelo’s…
In the Rainbow Room.
…UCA reported no significant
— Donnie in Separate Tables, a restaurant on Third Avenue…
…no significant contacts…
— Donnie wanders the aisles at a drug store, searching for
a GREETING CARD. Selects one. MATCH CUT to Maggie opening
the same card.
Inside it reads, “MISS YOU, LOVE,” and NO SIGNATURE.
— A TRUCK HIJACKING takes place on an access road to Kennedy
In a choreographed ballet, the DRIVER gives up the keys to a
crew of TOUGH GUYS… Then Donnie and VINNIE THE FENCE help
unload cartons of PERFUME from the truck…
…UCA purchased two dozen cartons
Yves St. Laurent ‘Eau My Sin’
— Donnie plays backgammon at Carmello’s… On the board, as
the pieces move CLOSER… Vinnie introduces him to JILLY
GRECA, a tough-looking WISEGUY in his late 40s.
…UCA was introduced to Giuliano
Greca, a.k.a. Jilly…
— Donnie opens a carton of WATCHES…
These go for 80 apiece. My end’s 20.
…UCA sold 50 Pateau Mitsu Boshi
Boeki digital watches…
He hands them to… Jilly. Who inspects them. Takes the
Peels off bills to Donnie.
BACK TO PRESENT
— Hogue, with headphones on, stubs out a cigarette…
— Donnie sits in Hippopotamus… Casa Bella… An after
hours joint… The pieces on the backgammon board as they
move CLOSER… Donnie collapses heavily on his bed, amidst
the spare furnishings of his apartment…
…UCA reported no significant
BACK TO PRESENT
— Hogue opens a BUDGET FOLDER…
New York office requests an extension
of six months due to…
— Donnie and Berada at a booth in the Cockeyed Clam, a manila
FILE between them.
I got you another six months. I told
them it takes time.
Same budget. Look, Joe, not that I
don’t see any movement, but — do
you see any movement? I got my neck
out on this.
Whatever it takes, I’m gonna get
Do me a favor. Just get one bastard.
Donnie READS from the file.
‘…no significant contacts…’
One other thing. You know how it is
with the ‘B’. They saw some of the
They want you to shave the moustache.
You’re still in the FBI. That’s the
INT. DAY. CASA BELLA
WINTER — fog on the windows. DISCO plays on the jukebox.
Drinking DEMITASSE in the late afternoon:
BENJAMIN “LEFTY” RUGGIERO, early 50s, gaunt and raspy-voiced,
SWITCHED-ON with nerves, testy and restless. He lights up an
English Oval. Sitting around him:
DOMINIC “SONNY BLACK* NAPOLITANO, middle 40s. Fireplug
muscles, dyed black hair. Sleepy as a lion after a big meal.
Don’t fuck with the lion.
NICHOLAS “NICKY” SANTORA, late 30s, teddy bear paunch. Plays
JOHN “BOOBIE” CERASANI, early 40s, gun-metal hard. All
business. Nobody’s Fool.
CASA BELLA RESTAURANT. LITTLE ITALY. 1976.
You can’t say to me a Lincoln is
better than a Cadillac.
It’s the better automobile, no
question. Head and shoulders.
Geddadaheah. Geddadaheah before you
make me mad.
Lefty, how you gonna be mad at Nicky?
I ain’t mad at him. I’m mad at his
AT THE BAR
A man sits, unfolds a newspaper. The bartender looks up–
BACK ON TABLE
Ain’t no comparison. Cadillac got
more acceleration, more power, more
better handling, better looking,
more legroom for your legs, more
You said that.
Be got me so fucking aggravated,
Boobie, I forgot what I said.
I’ll tell you one thing — the Lincoln
Whaddaya talkin’ about? Longer
Longer. Like longer. In inches. It’s
a longer car.
You know something, Nicky, you don’t
make no fucking sense sometimes.
You got two cars. One’s longer. All
things being equal, the longer car
is the one gonna get there first.
Ain’t the question all things being
equal. One’s a Cadillac and one’s a
The one’s longer gets there first.
That’s scientific fact.
What’s better, a Lincoln or a
Why’re you asking him?
I’m asking him.
Why don’t you ask me?
I asked you already.
That’s right. And I told you there’s
What the fuck are you arguing about?
Mercedes got it all over both of
Fuggedaboudit. Mercedes? That’s a
Jewish car. They didn’t get it enough
from the Germans in the war — now
they gotta be robbed by them.
JUDY approaches — the WAITRESS, early 20s. NEW to the job.
Sonny takes her hand, KISSES it.
Angel, how about some pastries for
LEFTY WATCHES DONNIE
sipping coffee at the bar. Leans over to Nicky.
Don. Don the Jeweler. Jilly brought
Jilly Four Eyes?
Not Jilly Four Eyes. You know, Jilly.
From Queens Jilly.
He’s a jewel guy? He knows jewels?
What — you got a thing to lay off?
Ain’t the question, I got a thing.
I’m saying, if I had a thing, he
could lay it off?
Whaddayou got to lay off?
SONNY WITH JUDY
as he punctuates his order with KISSES of her hand.
A little cannoli.
We’re out of sfogliatelli.
Oh. Then you gotta give me that kiss
She giggles, kisses Sonny on the cheek.
Can I ask you guys something? You
guys are wiseguys, right?
What makes you think we’re wiseguys?
What other grown men would have
nothing better to do than sit here
all afternoon drinking coffee and
nobody says anything?
They all look at each other.
We could be cops.
LAUGHTER all around. Lefty steals another look at Donnie as
he sits placidly drinking his coffee.
EXT. LATER. LITTLE ITALY
Lefty RUMMAGES in the trunk of his Cadillac. Takes out several
DESIGNER DRESSES, on hangers. Two cartons of TUNA FISH. Two
large STEREO SPEAKERS. Rummages some more. Finds A JEWEL
INT. LATER. CASA BELLA
Donnie sips his coffee at the bar, reads the paper. The
restaurant is otherwise DESERTED — Sonny and the other guys
have left. Lefty approaches him.
You Don the Jeweler?
Donnie looks up to the Bartender. The Bartender nods. Lefty
reaches in his pocket, produces
A FIVE-CARAT DIAMOND RING
That’s a beauty, eh? That’s some
Donnie looks it over. Gives it to Lefty.
Give it to your wife.
How’m I gonna give it to my wife? I
You got a girlfriend?
He returns the diamond to Lefty.
Are you for real? I’m asking if you
want to middle a diamond here. All I
want for my end’s eight thousand.
I’m saying give it to somebody don’t
know any better. It’s a fugazy.
How can you say it’s a fugazy? You
looked at it two seconds.
Go ahead, try and sell it, you wanna
be a dunsky.
I’m a dunsky? Let me tell you
something, my friend — do you know
who you’re talking to?
The Bartender, SCARED — he knows what Lefty’s capable of.
Quickly mixes a SPRITZER.
Here, Left, have a spritzer.
My family, my children — my mother
can hold her head up in any
neighborhood in the city when she
walks down the block. In all the
Five Boroughs I’m known, fuggedaboudit —
I’m known all over the world. You
ask around — ask anybody about Lefty
from Mulberry Street.
I’m sorry. It was just a
Donnie backs off, EXITS. Lefty takes the diamond out, looks
at it — FUMES. The Bartender slides the spritzer over.
On the arm.
Fugazy. Fugazy my fucking ass.
EXT. LATER. CASA BELLA
Donnie exhales out his tension — unwinds from the dicey
moment with Lefty. Pulls his collar up against the cold,
heads up the block.
Takes a last look back inside at Lefty.
INT. LATER. JEWELER
A JEWELER, loupe in his eye, examines the diamond.
It’s a fake.
This’s a fake?
Nothing is what it seems.
Lefty takes the fugazy back. Pockets it.
Because that’s what I’m thinking. I
thought it was a fake.
It’s a good fake, though, ain’t it.
It’s a very good fake.
That’s what I’m saying. I thought it
was a fake. That’s what I thought.
Lefty takes the fugazy back. Pockets it.
EXT. DAY. NEW JERSEY SUBURBS
Donnie drives the big station wagon, Maggie alongside him.
The girls in back.
Daddy, will you be home Easter?
Don’t ask Daddy those questions.
Mommy, will Daddy be home Easter?
You still believe in the Easter bunny?
You’re such a snot, Terry.
He’ll try his best.
Don’t look at me. I think it’s great
he’s never home.
Denise in school asked me today what
Daddy’s job is.
What’d you tell her?
None of her beeswax.
Just tell her he’s a salesman on the
road a lot. I mean, who cares what
he really does?
You be proud of what your father
does. Do you understand me? Your
father is an outstanding individual.
Jesus. Lighten up. That’s not the
Shut up, Terry.
EXT. LATER. GRANDPARENTS’ HOUSE
The station wagon pulls up. The kids run out into the embrace
of Maggie’s PARENTS. Maggie climbs out, turns.
You said it was going to be six
INT. DAY. ACERG, INC.
A storefront for fenced goods. WISEGUYS play cards, smoke
cigarettes. The PAY PHONE rings. Jilly picks it up.
INT. SAME TIME. FBI SAFEHOUSE
A phone line patched into a reel-to-reel TAPE RECORDER among
rows of tape recorders. VOICE-ACTIVATED it clicks on,
INT. MORNING. CASA BELLA
Lefty talks on a pay phone. Watches a MAN, indistinct in the
background, sipping coffee at the bar.
Don the Jeweler? Stand-up guy. Ain’t
a leech, good earner. Keeps to
to Donnie at the bar, sipping coffee. Lefty watches him.
FLASH CUT TO:
INT. THE PRESENT. FBI HEADQUARTERS
Hogue listens on headphones.
Where’s he from?
California. He’s a jewel guy.
Where California? L.A.?
Do you know how fucking big California
is? How the fuck should I know? He’s
a jewel guy.
THE CLOCK reads “10:25”.
Jilly — he’s a stand-up guy, Jilly?
Look, Left, I said I knew him. I
didn’t say I fucked him.
Hogue hits FAST FORWARD… The tape SQUEALS…
FLASH CUT TO:
EXT. THE PAST. CADILLAC
The SCREECH of rubber and THE CADILLAC LOGO as Donnie pulls
away from the curb in a screaming-yellow Coupe de Ville.
Lefty lights an English Oval.
Go to 46th and 1st, I gotta make a
What happened with that fugazy?
Man oh man, I gotta school you, my
friend. Di’n’t Jilly school you?
The smoke is thick now… Donnie powers down his window.
School me in what?
Donnie, put your window up, Donnie.
I’ m gonna catch a draft.
Donnie powers his window back up.
A non-wiseguy never asks a wiseguy a
question. A non-wiseguy don’t even
talk to a wiseguy unless the wiseguy
talks to him first. Capeesh?
Yeah. I got it.
You don’t raise your hands to a
wiseguy. You don’t mess with his
women — wife or girlfriend or
daughter. Just keep your mouth shut —
don’t put business on the street.
Follow the rules.
A CAB cuts them off. Lefty leans over. HONKS the horn.
Cocksucker! Motherfucker cutting you
You gotta have rules. Otherwise,
what are we? We’re like animals.
He leans over. VICIOUSLY honks the horn again. RESUMES with
one eye on the cab…
Wiseguy has a bag, you pick up the
bag. Wiseguy runs a tab, you pick up
the tab. Wiseguy is always right —
even if he’s wrong he’s right. All
the way up the line. Connected guy
to wiseguy to skipper to boss.
Like the Army.
I said it’s like the Army. Chain of
Ain’t nothing like the Army. The
Army, it’s some guy you don’t know
sends you to whack out some other
guy you don’t know. The Army’s a
I mean the same principle.
Ain’t the question, Donnie. You see,
that’s why I gotta school you. Because
otherwise you get everything upside
You got a girl?
Yeah. In California.
Good. Let her enjoy herself in
The cab CUTS OFF Donnie again… And Lefty BLOWS…
Donnie, catch up with that cocksucker.
He cut you off again,
That fucking — The cab! That one!
Donnie SPEEDS up, chases the cab… Lefty opens the GLOVE
Hits a BUTTON and the TRUNK pops OPEN.
A RED LIGHT
The cab stops. Lefty JUMPS out of the Cadillac…
IN THE TRUNK
Lefty pulls out a JACK, hustles up to the cab.
A PAKISTANI, 30s, oblivious. Then he sees Lefty approach in
his sideview mirror.
What’s fucking wrong with you? Hah?
There’s no fucking etiquette of the
road with you?
The Cabbie flips a “FUCK YOU” signal with his middle finger…
Rolls up his window.
Fuck who? Fuck me?
of the Cadillac, running toward Lefty… INSIDE the cab, a
nervous PASSENGER gathers her shopping bags…
as the Cabbie’s window CAVES IN… Lefty with the JACK…
SWINGS down hard on the windshield. From INSIDE, a spider’s
web of shattered glass.
Worry on his face. The Passenger FLEES down the block.
hangs out the window, grabbing and punching at Lefty. Lefty
YANKS him out of the car.
Left, c’mon. Enough.
Donnie grabs Lefty, trying to pull him off. A DRIVER heckles
from a passing car.
Hey, fuck you!
The Cabbie hangs onto Lefty. Lefty SNAPS off the cab’s
ANTENNA, starts to WHIP the Cabbie with it. The Cabbie BITES
Lefty. Lefty YELPS, backs off.
as the Cabbie SLAMS his foot down. The light turns RED. The
cab FISHTAILS through crossing traffic… The Cabbie trembles
with fear, looks in his rear-view mirror as he speeds away.
Donnie and Lefty, as DRIVERS in passing cars shoot looks of
disapproval their way. Lefty lights a cigarette.
These fucking guys. They come to
this country, they flaunt the rules
of the road. They give the ‘fuck
you’ sign to a man in the street…
What kind of bullshit is that?
Fucking sand nigger. I will never
fucking understand it. Why is it
always the guy who drives a car for
a living is the worst fucking driver
INT. DAY. RESTAURANT
Donnie sits at a bar with a drink. Lefty listens to the OWNER,
toughlooking, 30s, as he WRIGGLES.
I just want what’s owed.
You know, you’re not the only guy’s
You didn’t wanna pay it you
shouldn’t’ve borrowed it.
Who’s this cocksucker?
Like LIGHTNING, Donnie SLAPS the owner hard — forehand,
GRABS HIS COLLAR
BELTS HIM HARD an uppercut in the solar plexus. The Owner
SAGS to his knees.
NAUSEA in waves. Donnie finds the Owner’s WALLET in his jacket
pocket. Takes the money from the wallet. Peels off a five,
STUFFS it in the Owner’s mouth.
That’s for the drink.
INT. LATER. CADILLAC
CASH as Lefty counts it out. Donnie drives through the Lower
East Side WATERFRONT.
Donnie — why’d you pay for that
drink? Wiseguy never pays for a drink.
Okay. I didn’t know.
Always on the arm.
You scared that guy, though, managgia —
that cracks me up. I got 26 fucking
hits under my belt and you’re the
one he’s scared of.
Lefty CATCHES himself — shouldn’t have said that about the
BROODS a beat.
Hey, Donnie, pull over.
INT. LATER. CADILLAC
TOOLS out on the front seat. Lefty UNSCREWS the dashboard.
Donnie leans in.
Hand me them pliers.
The vise grip or the needle nose?
Fuggedaboudit. I’ll get it myself.
He leans out. Takes the pliers. Goes back to work dismantling
I don’t know, Left. This is the best
car I ever had.
You didn’t hear that? That rattling?
I never had any trouble with this
Give me a hand with this.
Lefty and Donnie PULL OFF the dashboard. Lefty looks inside.
Hey, you got something to say to me,
Left, say it to my face.
I ain’t saying nothing, Donnie.
You think I got a fucking wire in my
Did I say that?
What do you think — you think I’m a
fucking rat stoolpigeon?
You can’t be too careful these days.
Even the ears have ears.
C’mon. They need some bodies on the
street down at Toyland.
EXT. DAY. TOYLAND LITTLE ITALY
A CAR pulls up and two prosperous-looking SKIPPERS get out —
DOMINICK “BIG TRIN” TRINCHERA, fat and fortyish, and PHILIP
“PHILLY LUCKY” GIACCONE, 40s, shrewd eyes behind glasses.
They disappear into an unimposing SOCIAL CLUB. WISEGUYS stand
guard in the cold outside.
Lefty arrives with Donnie in tow.
Nicky, this’s Donnie.
How’d Minx’s Magic do in the fifth?
How could he lose?
What the fuck does he give a fuck?
He’s a horse. You’re the one that’s
out ten grand.
Fuck! Now I gotta bet another dime
Sunday just to get to where I was
RED COWBOY BOOTS
move up the block… They belong to ALPHONSE “SONNY RED” INDELICATO, 50s, barrel chest. With him, his son, ANTHONY
BRUNO INDELICATO, 20s, pale and balding, COKED OUT.
(aside, to Donnie)
Fucking Sonny Red.
Sonny Red stops, confronts Lefty.
(nods to Donnie)
This’s Donnie, a friend of mine.
Just stand there and look dangerous,
Yeah, he does look dangerous, don’t
Bruno SNORTS in disgust as he and his father move along.
Sonny Red, everything’s a beef with
him, him and Bruno, that son of his.
He don’t look so dangerous himself.
Ah, he’s a stone degenerate, he’s
coked-up half the time. Like all
these fucking kids nowadays.
A huge LINCOLN pulls up. BODYGUARDS jump out of the car. And
CARMINE “LILO” GALANTE, 69, fat and bald, huge CIGAR, emerges
from the Lincoln. AWESTRUCK, all watch as, surrounded by
WISEGUYS, Galante disappears into the club. Lefty watches,
stubs out his cigarette. Turns to Donnie.
EXT. SUNSET. ROOF
Lefty tends to the PIGEON COOPS on his roof, Donnie alongside
LOUISE, early 30s, a good-looking woman in stretch pants,
brings Lefty a SPRITZER.
Here you go, Bennie. You sure you
don’t wanna spritzer, Donnie?
No thanks, Louise.
You change your mind, I’m downstairs.
She heads downstairs. Donnie turns back to Lefty.
Not for nothing, but… how’d you
know that was a fugazy?
Jewels are my business. If I buy a
fugazy, I lose. I hate to lose.
That’s a good business, jewels? Good
money in it?
You keep your nose clean, be a good
earner, listen to what I school you —
there ain’t a crystal ball big enough
for what we could do.
Did you know there used to be falcons
in New York?
They got everything in this fucking
Peregrine falcons. They lived across
In the Palisades.
The Palisades is Jersey, Donnie.
I’m saying that’s why there’s so
many pigeons now. The falcons used
to hunt ’em and kill ’em off.
I love these fucking pigeons. I’d
die before I’d let anybody touch
Those falcons could read a newspaper
from a mile up.
A bird could read the newspaper?
I’m saying their eyesight.
Hey, Donnie — you got a couple
hundred, Donnie? I got some things I
gotta take care of.
Donnie reaches in his wallet.
What do you want, two hundred?
Lefty leans over, PEERS into his wallet.
Whaddaya got there, three hundred?
Gimme three hundred.