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In Bruges

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The Belfry of Bruges

In Bruges is a 2008 film in which Irish contract killers Ray and Ken are sent to the medieval Belgian city of Bruges following a botched hit in London to wait for further instructions from their employer Harry.

Written and directed by Martin McDonagh.
Shoot first. Sightsee later.

Ray

[edit]
  • [Voiceover] After I killed them, I dropped the gun in the Thames, washed the residue off my hands in the bathroom of a Burger King, and walked home to await instructions. Shortly thereafter, the instructions came through. "Get the fuck out of London, yous dumb fucks. Get to Bruges." I didn't even know where Bruges fucking was. [Pause] It's in Belgium.
  • A great day this has turned out to be. I'm suicidal, me mate tries to kill me, me gun gets nicked and we're still in fucking Bruges.
  • Ken, come on, they're the English police. When they say they haven't got a single lead, they haven't got a single lead. This is my vote of what we should do. We give it another day, two days max, then we check the papers again and if there's still nothing in 'em, we phone him and say, "Harry, thank you for the trip to Bruges, it's been very nice, but we're coming back to London now," and hide out in a proper country where it isn't all just fucking chocolate.
  • Back off, shorty!
  • I kinda like hearing people having sex. Means at least somebody around here's happy.
  • There's a Christmas tree somewhere in London with a bunch of presents underneath it that'll never be opened. And I thought, if I survive all of this, I'd go to that house, apologize to the mother there, and accept whatever punishment she chose for me. Prison... death... didn't matter. Because at least in prison and at least in death, you know, I wouldn't be in fuckin' Bruges. But then, like a flash, it came to me. And I realized, fuck man, maybe that's what hell is: the entire rest of eternity spent in fuckin' Bruges. And I really really hoped I wouldn't die. I really really hoped I wouldn't die.

Harry

[edit]
  • [Ken is handed a typewritten message from the hotel receptionist] Number one, why aren't you in when I fucking told you to be in? Number two, why doesn't this hotel have phones with fucking voicemail on them and not I have to leave messages with the fucking receptionist? Number three, you better fucking be in tomorrow night when I fucking call again otherwise there'll be fucking hell to pay. I'm fucking telling you. - Harry.
  • [After mistaking shooting Jimmy the midget for a prepubescent boy, to Ray] You've got to stick to your principles. [Shoots himself in head]

Dialogue

[edit]
Ken: We shall strike a balance between culture and fun.
Ray: Somehow I believe, Ken, that the balance shall tip in the favour of culture, [[w:Minority group|like a big fat fucking retarded fucking black girl on a see-saw opposite... a dwarf.
Ken: [Preparing to climb the the belfry] Coming up?
Ray: What's up there?
Ken: The view.
Ray: The view of what? The view of down here? I can see that from down here.
Ken: Ray, you are about the worst tourist in the whole world.
Ray: Ken, I grew up in Dublin. I love Dublin. If I grew up on a farm, and was retarded, Bruges might impress me but I didn't, so it doesn't.
Ken: [Looking at a surreal Bosch painting] It's Judgment Day, you know?
Ray: No. What's that then?
Ken: Well, it's, you know, the final day on Earth, when mankind will be judged for the crimes they've committed and that.
Ray: Oh. And see who gets into heaven and who gets into hell and all that.
Ken: Yeah. And what's the other place?
Ray: Purgatory.
Ken: Purgatory... what's that?
Ray: Purgatory's kind of like the in-betweeny one. You weren't really shit, but you weren't all that great either. Like Tottenham. [Pause] Do you believe in all that stuff, Ken?
Ken: About Tottenham?
Ken: You from the States?
Jimmy: Yeah. But don't hold it against me.
Ken: I'll try not to... just try not to say anything too loud or crass.
Ken: Your girlfriend's very pretty.
Jimmy: She ain't my girlfriend. She's a prostitute I just picked up.
Ken: I wasn't aware there were any prostitutes in Bruges.
Jimmy: You just have to look in the right places... brothels are good.
Ken: Well, you've picked up a very pretty prostitute.
Jimmy: Thank you.
Overweight Man: Been to the top of the tower?
Ray: Yeah, yeah, it's rubbish.
Overweight Man: It is? Guide book says it's a must see.
Ray: Well you lot ain't goin' up there.
Overweight Man: Pardon me? Why?
Ray: I mean it's all windy stairs. I'm not being funny.
Overweight Man: What exactly are you trying to say?
Ray: What exactly am I trying to say? You's are a bunch of fuckin' elephants!
Ray: I don't hit women. I'd never hit a woman, Chloë! I hit a woman who was trying to hit me with a bottle! That's different, that's self defense, isn't it? Or a woman who did karate. I'd never hit a woman generally, Chloë. Don't think that. God, you're pretty.
Chloë: I have to make a call.
Ray: Oh no. You've gone off me, haven't you? Just cause I hit that fucking cow.
[She kisses him]
Chloë: There's never been a classic movie made in Bruges until now.
Ray: Of course there hasn't. It's a shithole.
Chloë: Bruges is my home town, Ray.
Ray: Well, it's still a shithole.
Chloë: It's not a shithole!
Ray: What? Even midgets have to take drugs to stick it.
Chloë: Okay. So, you've insulted my home town. You were doing really well, Raymond. Why don't you tell me some Belgium jokes while you're at it?
Ray: Don't know any Belgium jokes, and if I did I think I'd have the good sense not to... hang on. Is Belgium with all those child abuse murders lately? I do know a Belgium joke. What's Belgium famous for? Chocolates and child abuse, and they only invented the chocolates to get to the kids. [Sees Chloë's shocked expression] What?
Chloë: One of the girls they murdered was a friend of mine.
Ray: [After a long pause, feeling bad] I'm sorry, Chloë.
Chloë: One of the girls they murdered wasn't a friend of mine. I just wanted to make you feel bad. And it worked! Quite well.
Ken: How did your date go?
Ray: My date involved two instances of extreme violence, one instance of her hand on my cock and my finger up her thing, which lasted all too briefly - isn't that always the way? - one instance of me stealing 5 grams of a very high quality cocaine and one instance of me blinding a poofy little skinhead, so, all in all, my evening pretty well balanced out... fine.
Ken: You've got five grams of coke?
Ray: [Shakes head] No, I got four grams on me and one gram in me, which me heart is going like the fucking clappers as if I'm about to have a heart attack, so if I collapse any minute now please remember to tell the doctors it might have something to do with the coke.
Yuri: There are a lot of alcoves in the Astridpark. You use this word, alcoves?
Ken: Alcoves, yes. Sometimes.
Yuri: There are not many people around in these alcoves at Christmas time. If I were to murder a man I would murder him here. (beat) Are you sure this is the right word, alcoves?
Ken: Alcoves, yes! It's kind of like, nook and crannies.
Yuri: Nooks and crannies, yes! Perhaps this would be more accurate. Nooks and crannies rather than alcoves. Yes. You are going to do it aren't you? Mr. Waters would be very disappointed.
Ken: Of course I'm going to fucking do it. It's what I do.
Ken: Technically, your bare hands can kill someone as well. I mean, what if he knew karate?
Ray: I thought you said he was a lollipop man.
Ken: He was a lollipop man.
Ray: What's a lollipop man doing knowing fucking karate?
Ken: I'm just saying.
Ray: How old was he?
Ken: About fifty.
Ray: Why would a fifty-year old lollipop man know fucking karate! What was he, a Chinese lollipop man?
Ken: No!
Ray: Well, then.
Ray: Jesus, Ken, I'm trying to talk about...
Ken: I know what you're trying to talk about.
Ray: I killed a little boy. You keep bringing up the fucking lollipop man.
Ken: You didn't mean to kill a little boy.
Ray: I know I didn't mean to... but because of the choices I made, and the course that I put into action, that little boy isn't here anymore, and he'll never be here again. [Pause] I mean here in the world, not here in Belgium. Well he'll never be here in Belgium either, will he? I mean, he might've wanted to come here when he got older. Don't know why. And that's all because of me. He's dead because of me. And I'm trying to... been trying to get me head around it, but I can't. I will have always have killed that little boy. That ain't ever going away. Ever. Unless... maybe I go away.
Ken: Don't even think like that.
Harry: [To Eirik, with his eyepatch] Aye-aye!
Yuri: [Referring to selection of firearms laid out on table] Take your pick, Mr. Waters.
Harry: [Picks up an UZI Submachine gun] An UZI? Ha, I'm not from South Central Los fucking Angeles. I didn't come here to shoot 20 black 10-year olds in a fucking drive-by - I want a normal gun for a normal person.
Yuri: I knew he wouldn't kill the guy. I could see it in his eyes when I was telling him about the alcoves.
Harry: ...about the what?
Yuri: The alcoves - the alcoves in the Koningin Astrid Park. Oh, I also have some dimdims. You use this word, "dimdims"? The bullets that make the head explode?
Harry: "Dumdums", yeah.
Yuri: Would you like some of these dimdims?
Harry: Well, I know I shouldn't, err... But I will.
Eirik: Motherfucker.
Harry: Is he talking to me?
Yuri: No, Eirik's on your side, Mr. Waters. Your young friend blinded him last night.
Harry: Ray did?
Eirik: I was trying to rob him. And he took my gun from me. And the gun was [[w:full of blanks. And he shot a blank into my eye. And now I cannot see from this eye ever again, the doctors say.
Harry: Well, to be honest, it sounds like it was all your fault.
Eirik: What?!
Harry: I mean basically, if you're robbing a man and you're only carrying blanks, and you allow your gun to be taken off you, and you allow yourself to be shot in the eye with a blank which I assume that the person has to get quite close to you then, yeah, really, it's all your fault for being such a poof, so why don't you stop whining and cheer the fuck up.
[Eirik, furious, stands up]
Yuri: Eirik - I really wouldn't respond.
Eirik: I thought you wanted the guy dead?
Harry: I do want the guy dead, I want him fucking crucified. But it don't change the fact that he stitched you up like a blind little gay boy, does it?
Ken: Mine's a bloody girl's gun. I'm keeping it.
Ray: Pardon me? Give me my gun back.
Ken: You're not getting it back. You're a suicide case.
Ray: And you were trying to shoot me in the fucking head.
Ken: You're not getting that gun back.
Ray: A great day this has turned out to be. I'm suicidal, my mate tries to kill me, my gun gets nicked and we're still in fucking Bruges.
Ken: Listen, I'm gonna give you some money and put you on a train somewhere.
Ray: Back to England?
Ken: You can't go back to England, Ray. You'd be a dead man!
Ray: [Sobs] I want to be a dead man. Have you been missing something?
Ken: You don't want to be a dead man, Ray.
Ray: I killed a little boy! [Sobs]
Ken: Then save the next little boy. Just go away somewhere, get out of this business and try to do something good. You're not gonna help anybody dead. You're not gonna bring that boy back. But you might save the next one.
Ray: What am I gonna be, a doctor?
Ken: You need exams.
Ray: Do anything, Ray. Do anything. What a wanker!
Ken: He said this whole trip... this whole being in Bruges thing, was just to give you one last, joyful memory before you died.
Ray: In Bruges? The Bahamas, maybe? Why fucking Bruges?
Ken: I suppose it's cheaper.
Ray: The rest of the acid and the ecstasy. Can I have my gun back, please? What am I gonna do, Ken? What am I gonna do?
Ken: Just keep moving. Keep on moving. Try not to think about it. Learn a new language, maybe?
Ray: Sure, I can hardly do English. That's one thing I like about Europe, though. You don't have to learn any of their languages.
Ken: Just forget about home for a while. See how the land lies in six years, seven years. Seven years is not that long.
Ray: It's longer than that boy got. My first fucking job. Great hitman I turned out to be.
Ken: Some people just aren't cut out for it, Ray.
Ray: Are you? When are you going back to England?
Ken: I'll head back in a couple of hours or something.
Ray: Harry's not gonna be mad at you, is he? For letting me go?
Ken: I'll sort out Harry.
Ray: Just tell him I'll have probably killed myself in a fortnight, anyway.
Ken: You won't, will you, Ray? [Makes call] Harry? It's Ken. Listen to this noise. Do you know what that is?
Ray: Yeah, I know you know it's a train.
Ken: Do you know what train? Well, it's a train that Ray just got on, and he's alive and he's well, and he doesn't know where he's going and neither do I. So if you need to do your worst, do your worst. You've got the address of the hotel. I'll be here waiting. Because I've got to quite like Bruges now. It's like a fucking fairytale or something. [Hangs up with Harry viciously slamming the telephone handset onto the base station in his office den]
Natalie: [Appears in doorway] Harry. Harry!
Harry: [Stops] WHAT?!
Natalie: It's an inanimate fucking object!
Harry: YOU'RE AN INANIMATE FUCKING OBJECT!
Harry: [Having a somber discussion with two sons and Natalie] Now, you lot be good for your mummy and Imamoto, okay? 'Cause Daddy's got to go away for a few days.
Natalie: Where are you going?
Harry: I've got to go to Bruges.
Natalie: Bruges? Where's that?
Harry: It's in Belgium.
Natalie: Why would anybody have to go to Belgium?
Harry: 'Cause I've got to sort something out.
Natalie: Is it something to do with the phone? It's something to do with Ken.
Harry: It's a matter of honour.
Natalie: Well, it ain't gonna be dangerous, is it?
Harry: Well, of course it's gonna be dangerous if it's a matter of fucking honour!
Natalie: You are bringing the fellas with you? Tell me you're bringing the fellas with you. Harry.
Harry: I'm sorry for calling you an inanimate object. I was upset.
Ken: [Walks up behind Ray sitting on a park bench who holds up gun to head] What the fuck are you doing, Ray?
Ray: What the fuck are you doing?
[Ken sticks pistol behind his back]
Ken: Nothing.
Ray: Oh, my God... you were gonna kill me.
Ken: No, I wa - You were gonna kill yourself!
Ray: Well... I'm allowed.
Ken: No, you're not!
Ray: What? I'm not allowed, and you are? How's that fair?
Ken: The boy's suicidal Harry. He's a walking dead man. Keeps going on about hell and purgatory -
Harry: When I phoned you yesterday, did I ask you 'Ken, would you do me a favor and become Ray's psychiatrist please?' No. What I think what I asked you was "would you go blow his fucking head off for me?" "He's suicidal"? I'm suicidal, you're suicidal, everybody's fucking suicidal. We don't all keep going on about it. Has he killed himself yet? So he's not fucking suicidal, is he?
Ken: He put a loaded gun to his head this morning, I stopped him.
Harry: He... What? This gets fucking worse!
Ken: We were down the park...
Harry: Let me get this right. You were down in the park? What's that got to do with fucking anything? Let me get this right. Not only have you refused to kill the boy, you even stopped the boy from killing himself, which would have solved my problem, which would have solved your problem, which sounds like it would have solved the boy's problem.
Ken: It wouldn't have solved his problem.
Harry: Ken, if I had killed a little kid, accidentally or otherwise, I wouldn't have thought twice. I'd killed myself on the fucking spot. On the fucking spot. I would've stuck the gun in me mouth on the fucking spot!
Ken: That's you, Harry. The boy has the capacity to change. The boy has the capacity to do something decent with his life.
Harry: Excuse me, Ken, I have the capacity to change.
Ken: Yeah, you do. You've the capacity to get fucking worse!
Harry: Ah yeah, now I'm getting down to it!
Ken: Harry, let's face it. And I'm not being funny, I mean no disrespect, but you're a cunt. You're a cunt now, you've always been a cunt. And, the only thing that's gonna change is that you're gonna become an even bigger cunt. Maybe have some more cunt kids.
Harry: [furious] Leave my kids fucking out of it! What have they done? You fucking retract that bit about my cunt fucking kids!
Ken: I retract that bit about your cunt fucking kids.
Harry: Insulting my fucking kids?! That's going overboard, mate!
Ken: I retracted it, didn't I?! [quietly] Still leaves you a cunt...
Harry: Yeah, I fucking got that.
Marie: Why don't you two just put your guns down and go home?
Harry: Don't be stupid; this is the shootout!

Cast

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Wikipedia
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