Professor G.H. Dorr: What do you think, General? Present any problems? Good then. Gentlemen, why don't we crowd around and go over the plan? Gentlemen, this is the Bandit Queen. Gambling den. Cash
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What do you think, General? Present any problems? Good then....

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Professor G.H. Dorr:
What do you think, General? Present any problems? Good then. Gentlemen, why don't we crowd around and go over the plan? Gentlemen, this is the Bandit Queen. Gambling den. Cash cow. Sodom of the Mississippi Delta and the focus of our little exercise. Here is Orchard Street. Here is the residence of Marva Munson, the charming lady whom you all met moments ago. Gentlemen, I'm sure you're all aware that the Solons of the state of Mississippi, to wit, its legislature, have decreed that no gaming establishment shall be erected within its borders upon dry land. They may, however, legally float. While the gambling activity is restricted to these riverboats, no such restrictions apply to the functions ancillary to this cash-besotted business. The casino's offices, locker rooms, facilities to cook and clean, and, most importantly, its counting houses, the reinforced, secret, super-secure repositories of the lucre, may all be situated... wherever. Gawain, where is "wherever"?
Gawain MacSam:
Say what?
Professor G.H. Dorr:
Where's the money?
Gawain MacSam:
Oh. OK, look. At the end of every shift, pit boss brings the cash down to the hold of the ship in a locked cashbox, and once a day all the cash is moved down to the countin' room.
Professor G.H. Dorr:
And where is the counting room?
Gawain MacSam:
Uh... it be right there in that square where you pointin'.
Professor G.H. Dorr:
And what, to flog a horse that if not dead is at this point in mortal danger of expiring, does this little square represent?
Gawain MacSam:
Offices. Underground.
Professor G.H. Dorr:
Ha! Underground! Mmm! Underground. During the casino's hours of operation, the door to this counting room is fiercely guarded. The door itself is of redoubtable Pittsburgh steel. When the casino closes this entire underground complex is locked up, and the armed guard retreats to the casino's main entrance. There, then, far from the guard, reposes the money, behind a five-inch-thick steel portal, yes. But the walls... the walls are but humble masonry behind which is only the soft, loamy soil deposited over centuries by the Old Man, the meanderin' Mississippi, as it fanned its way back and forth across the great alluvial plain, leaving earth. This earth. The General here, whose curriculum vitae comprehends massive tunnelin' experience through the soil of his native French Indochina, shall be directin' our little old tunnelin' operation. Garth Pancake, though a master of none, is a jack of all those trades corollary to our aim. He will be doin' such fabricatin' and demolition work - as our little caper shall require.
Garth Pancake:
Happy to be on board.
Professor G.H. Dorr:
Gawain is our proverbial "inside man." He has managed to secure himself a berth on the stodial staff of the Bandit Queen.
Gawain MacSam:
Damn skippy!
Professor G.H. Dorr:
And this brings us to Lump. To look at Lump, you might wonder what specialized expertise could he possibly offer our merry little old band of miscreants. Well, gentlemen, in a project of such risks, it is imperative to enlist the services of a hooligan, a goon, an ape, a physical brute. Someone who will be our security, our battering ram, our blunt instrument. And, on our behalf, I wish him a warm Mississippi welcome.
Garth Pancake:
Fuckin' A.
Gawain MacSam:
Whassup, my nigga?
Professor G.H. Dorr:
Well, gentlemen, here you are. Men of different backgrounds and differing talents. Men with, in fact, but two things in common: One, you all saw fit to answer my advertisement in the Memphis Scimitar, and two, you're all going to be, in consequence, very, very, incredibly... rich. Let us revel in our adventure, gentlemen. Let us make beautiful music together, and, by all means, let us keep this to ourselves. What we say in this root cellar, let it stay in this root cellar.
Lump Hudson:
There's no "I" in "team".

Transcript:
What do you think, General?
Present any problems?
Good, then.
Gentlemen, why don't we crowd
around and go over the plan?
Gentlemen, this is
the Bandit Queen.
The gambling den.
Cash cow.
Sodom of the Mississippi Delta
and the focus of our
little exercise.
Here is Orchard Street.
Here is the residence
of Marva Munson,
the charming lady whom
you all met moments ago.
Gentlemen, I'm sure
you're all aware
that the solons of the state of
Mississippi, to wit, its legislature,
have decreed that no gaming
establishment shall be erected
within its borders
upon dry land.
They may, however,
legally float.
While the gambling activity
is restricted to
these riverboats,
no such restrictions apply
to the functions ancillary
to this cash-besotted business.
The casino's offices,
locker rooms,
facilities to cook and clean, and,
most importantly, its counting houses.
The reinforced, secret, super-secure
repositories of the lucre
may all be situated wherever.
Gawain, where is "wherever"?
Say what?
Where's the money?
Oh…
Okay, look.
At the end of every shift,
the pit boss brings
the cash down
to the hold of the ship
in a locked cashbox,
then once a day all the cash is
moved down to the countin' room.
And where is the counting room?
Well…
It be right there in that
square where you pointin'.
And what, to flog a
horse that if not dead
is at this point in mortal
danger of expiring,
does this little
square represent?
Offices.
Underground.
Hah! Underground.
Mmm…
Underground.
During the casino's
hours of operation,
the door to this counting room
is fiercely guarded.
The door itself is of
redoubtable Pittsburgh steel.
When the casino closes,
this entire underground
complex is locked up,
and the armed guard retreats
to the casino's main entrance.
There, then, far from the guard,
reposes the money,
behind a five-inch-thick
steel portal, yes.
But the walls, gentlemen,
the walls are but
humble masonry.
Behind which is only the soft, loamy
soil deposited over centuries
by the old man,
the meanderin' Mississippi,
as it fanned its way
back and forth
across the great alluvial
plain, leaving earth.
This earth.
The General here, whose
curriculum vitae comprehends
massive tunnelin' experience through the
soil of his native French Indochina,
shall be directin' our little
old tunnelin' operation.
Garth Pancake,
though a master of none,
is a jack of all those trades
corollary to our aim.
He will be doin' such
fabricatin' and demolition work
as our little caper
shall require.
Happy to be on board.
Gawain is our proverbial
"inside man."
He has managed to secure himself
a berth on the custodial staff
of the Bandit Queen.
Damn, skippy.
And this brings us to Lump.
To look at Lump,
you might wonder
what specialized expertise
could he possibly offer our merry
little old band of miscreants.
Well, gentlemen, in a project
of such risks, it is imperative
to enlist the services of a hooligan,
a goon, an ape, a physical brute.
Someone who will be
our security,
our battering ram,
our blunt instrument.
And, on our behalf, I wish him
a warm Mississippi welcome.
Fuckin' A.
Wassup, my nigga?
Well, gentlemen, here you are.
Men of different backgrounds
and differing talents.
Men with, in fact,
but two things in common.
One, you all saw fit to answer my
advertisement in the Memphis Scimitar,
and, two, you're all going
to be, in consequence,
very, very, incredibly rich.
Let us revel
in our adventure, gentlemen.
Let us make
beautiful music together,
and, by all means, let us
keep this to ourselves.
What we say in this root cellar,
let it stay in this root cellar.
There's no "I" in "team."
It's okay, don't stop on account of me.
No. No, no, no, no.
Not at all, madam.
Not at all. We were about
to take a break anyway.
The glissandi on this
particular piece
are technically very,
very demanding,
and I'm sure we would all
welcome a moment of R and R.
Well, I just thought
maybe you'd like to see…
What have you
gotten into, honey?
Why you sweatin' like that?
Uh… Uh…
'Cause, 'cause…
That boy right there?
He plays one bitch barrel
full of a sackbut.
Ain't that right, Lump?
I'm tellin' you, he can tear it up.
Right, Lump?
Ain't nobody play the sackbut
like Lump right there.
He…
Don't be shy, Lump.
Don't be shy.
Lump, that boy, he go at
it like it was some pussy.
Ah…
Oh, shit!
Mind your mouth.
This is a Christian house, boy.
No hippity-hop language in here.
Sometime it's the only way.
Now listen,
you ain't gonna hit me…
I'm tryin' to help you,
boy, better yourself.
And so you should, madam.
So you should.
Gawain is so far transported
by his love of the music of
the early Renaissance…
Don't make me no never mind,
he transported.
I understand.
You been smokin'?
Oh, certainly not, ma'am. I
understand your indignation, ma'am.
And I was offering an
explanation, not an excuse.
don't be explainin' me, dawg.
You can't read my
motherfuckin' mind, man.
You might got yo' Ph.D.,
but I got my GED.
Yes.
Nigga.
A fiery lad.
But then, youth is fiery.
A fact often remarked upon
by the poets
of the Romantic era.
My youth, I was in church.
I wasn't walkin' around fiery.
Youth ain't no
excuse for nothin'.
Anyhow, I just came
to show you the fife.
Othar's fife.
Burned his own.
I thought maybe, you bein' a man
of music, you'd be interested.
Oh, indeed I am.
Cut it his self and
burned his holes.
Oh… The Israelites
called it a khalil.
Yeah, you can read
all about it in the Bible.
Ain't nothin' new under the sun.
Indeed not.
Gone these 20 years.
He was some kind of man.
Blowed the khalil.
I don't suppose Othar
ever turned his hand…
Or turned his lip
to blowing the shofar?

Clip duration: 588 seconds
Views: 76
Uploaded: 12 December, 2020
Genres: comedy, crime, thriller
Summary: An eccentric, if not charming Southern professor and his crew pose as a classical ensemble in order to rob a casino, all under the nose of his unsuspecting but sharp old landlady.


Actors

Professor G.H. Dorr - Tom Hanks
Gawain MacSam - Marlon Wayans
Garth Pancake - J.K. Simmons
Lump Hudson - Ryan Hurst