RADIO ANNOUNCER: Good morning. It's wakeup time in the city of Chicago,
and here's what's happening in your town today.
There was a disturbance...
CHUCK: Life doesn't always come with a set of instructions.
In fact, most of the time, it just comes.
(broadcast stops)
Every morning, like clockwork,
it's there when you open your eyes,
and it's still there even when you don't.
Take my friend Gary, a regular guy.
At least he was till the day life showed up
at his doorstep in spades.
Now he spends half his time
figuring out where the heck it all came from...
(kettle whistles)
(cat meowing) (paper thudding against door)
...and the other half wondering where it all goes.
(meows)
Face it. It's not necessarily all it's cracked up to be,
having the jump on the rest of the world.
Still, you go with what you got.
And when what you got is tomorrow's news,
well, it's got to be one of two things--
either you're a day ahead
or everyone else is a day behind.
It's going to explode. Boom!
Go boom! Your
kitchen.
The restaurant is going to go boom!
Gaboom.
Boom! Go b... go
boom, go boom!
Boom!
Gaboom!
Speak English? English? English?
(speaks Chinese) The restaurant is going to... go boom!
Do you speak English?
Ka-boom! Ka-boom! Do you un...?
GARY: No, I'm trying to tell you,
the restaurant is going to explode very soon.
Ka-boom!
Is says right here! Go boom! Eh...
Hey... Smoke, flames-- boom!
No, no, no, no. That... This one. Boom!
Boom! (grill hisses)
That!
Go boom! (indistinct shouting)
Oh!
(shouting hysterically in Chinese)
(roaring explosion) GARY: Look out!
(chickens clucking frantically)
(man coughing)
(chickens clucking)
(theme music playing)
Watch Movies, TV Series and Live Sports Signup Here -> WWW.ADMITME.APP
♪ ♪
ANCHORMAN: ...has indicated there will be no bipartisan support
if Congress continues to stonewall the bill.
Closer to home, still no word on the disappearance
of labor leader Red Cooper,
who's heading his union's reform movement
in the upcoming elections.
Cooper, well-known for his...
Look in the trunk of a Volvo over on Grant Street tonight,
you'll find him. You say something?
No.
(blues music playing low)
Hey, man.
How you...?
You smell like a Chinese restaurant.
Moo goo gai pan, my favorite.
The paper said Woo Ling's Kitchen
was going to explode.
And?
Woo Ling's Kitchen exploded.
I'm telling you, Chuck, I'm going crazy.
Why the hell is this thing coming to me?
Oh, here we go again.
No... Before this thing started coming,
my life was fine.
I was a commodities trader.
Wonderful home, beautiful wife-- everything's good.
You got fired, and your wife left you.
Uh-huh.
Sorry. I didn't mean to interrupt. Go ahead.
I got to get to the bottom of this.
I can't live my life like this.
Is that the book Marcia gave you?
(cash register dings nearby)
What?
I want to show you something.
CHUCK: Nice picture.
"Typesetter, 1946, Chicago Phoenix."
The cat.
What about it?
Does that happen to look like any cat we know?
Gare, come on...
No, no, no, no, no. Listen...
If that's the same cat,
then I figure all I got to do is find out about this guy.
Good idea, except the guy's probably
been dead for years, and besides,
the Chicago Phoenix hasn't been around for years.
My old man used to read it every morning...
till the Sun ate it up.
Ate it up?
Yeah, they merged. You see, there was the old Trib and the Times,
and the Times teamed up with the Sun back in '49.
Really? That's fascinating.
Could you get me a Crownie, please? No, no, no. Wait, wait.
You're saying that the Phoenix and the Sun Times...
Same paper.
GARY: I got to check this out.
(phones ringing)
(keyboards clacking)
(indistinct conversations)
Watch it. Oh, sorry.
Thanks.
EDITOR: Well, I'm old-fashioned.
Even if this guy does talk to you...
He will talk to me, Harry.
Even if he does, I don't like anonymous sources.
It sounds like we're making it up.
He's taking a big chance just by talking to me.
He could end up in a trunk, like Red Cooper...
Thank you. I don't buy that.
The unions aren't like that anymore.
Somebody forgot to tell these guys that.
Yeah, well, you better be careful, sister.
Harry, I'm a reporter.
You tell the boys to be careful?
When they're on a murder case, I do, yes. Okay?
You keep taking that stuff without water,
you're gonna end up with no stomach.
Stop doing that.
Who said I had any stomach left?
(burps)
GARY: Mr. Hawks? Uh, Gary Hobson.
We had an appointment.
Uh, I can come back later if...
We're done, actually.
Meet Meredith Carson.
Oh, how do you do?
I've read your stuff.
See that, Harry?
Who says the public doesn't read bylines?
I've seen you on TV, too, those talk shows.
Yeah, I've done one or two.
The Chicago Week in Review.
Actually, no, that's Rebecca from the Trib.
(Harry chuckles)
I guess you overplayed your hand, sport, huh?
Uh, huh?
What can I do for you?
Oh, uh... I-I'm a historian, uh, with...
Well, we spoke on the phone,
and I was wondering if I could get a look at the archives.
Oh, the archives, yeah.
Paulie, who's the name of that guy,
sits down in the archives all day?
It's all down in the basement.
You better let me show you.
I've been in charge of the archives
25 years, this December.
Well, I appreciate you showing me around.
Miss Carson?
Uh...
I'm sorry if I said anything that was out of line. I...
I don't remember what you said.
Well, I do read your work, though.
I saw your story this morning about finding Cooper.
That's great stuff-- green Volvo and Jersey plates.
It's really good.
Thanks.
Uh, the archives.
Oh, sure.
(telephone rings)
(sighs)
Everything before 1955 would be along the wall here.
What about the Chicago Phoenix,
would those records be down here, too?
Right this way.
Chicago Phoenix-- my, my!
Were, uh, were you here back then, Mr. Morris?
Sure was.
Do you mind if I show you something?
Do you know that man?
Hmm... Let's see here.
No, don't believe so.
Sorry.
That's all right.
Been so long, you know.
Yes, sir.
I imagine there were a lot of typesetters.
More than a few.
What about this cat?
Cat!
Snow. Lucius Snow-- that's the fella's name.
Snow?
Kept to himself, but everybody knew that cat.
"Snow's cat," we called him.
So you knew Mr. Snow?
Strange thing about old Snow, now that I think about it--
but, nah, probably just fool's talk.
No, no, no, no. Please.
Well, they say he set the Truman headline
a whole day before anybody else knew.
And V.E. Day?
He had all the type all set before it happened.
Kind of a legend that way, you know what I'm saying?
Imagine that.
CARSON: Mr. Hobson?
Who are you?
Excuse me?
Who are you?
And how did you know about those Jersey plates?
Oh, well, I told you-- I read about that
in the paper this morning.
The Volvo, yes; the Jersey plates, no.
I'm just writing about it now; it won't come out till tomorrow.
And the police aren't talking, so the only way
you could have that information is if you were involved.
Involved?
In the killing of Red Cooper.
Oh, no, no. Wait a second...
I see you kids have a lot to talk about, so I'll...
Oh, no. Wait, Mr. Morris...
Go ahead. Go ahead.
I'll be back in a minute.
Tell you more about old Snow.
But in the meantime,
and in-between time,
may I trouble you for a cigarette?
I quit.
There's a whole carton in my desk, though--
you can have those.
Thank you! Excuse me, sir.
So, who are you, and how did you know?
Um...
What was the question again?
(singing softly): ♪ I hate to see ♪
♪ That evenin' sun go... ♪
Hey, Beverly. Mr. Morris.
♪ ...down... ♪
Look at that. Can't even see in the light.
Too many years working downstairs in the coal mine.
♪ Feeling tomorrow... ♪
Where'd she say she put them?
(explosion) (Morris yells)
(screaming, shouting)
What was that?! MAN: You all right?!
It just went up!
(clicking)
GARY: Excuse me, I'm
looking for 623.
NURSE: Right over here.
Thank you.
Hello. Hi.
What are you doing here?
Well, I thought I'd come by and see Mr. Morris.
You going to ask him a few more questions?
Oh, no, he's a nice guy. I thought I'd come say hello.
Is this what happens to all you reporters?
You start thinking the worst of everyone?
(giggles)
Are you friends of Mr. Morris'?
I am, anyway.
I was with him just before he was hurt.
H-How is he?
The burns are only on his hands.
Could have been worse.
Can we see him?
I'm afraid not. He-He's having some heart problems.
I can't let you see him.
All right, thank you.
Have a nice day.
Uh, wait up.
It was my office. It was meant for me, wasn't it?
Well, then, talk to the police.
I did. I told them as little as possible.
It means I'm too close to finding
something out. Well, then, you better
look out for yourself. See ya.
Is that a warning?
Excuse me? Did you just threaten me?
What?
Well, you show up today, you know things that
aren't even in the paper yet, and now this happens.
Oh, yeah, yeah, yeah. See, you got me.
I'm a hit man for the mob.
Shh. You think that's funny? Red Cooper is dead
and Morris is in the hospital.
They'll probably send me to Sicily for a year
until things cool off, but until then, good-bye.
I'm going with you.
I don't think the Don would allow that.
Good-bye. Okay, so maybe
I don't believe you'd actually hurt anybody,
but you did know about the plates.
Well, it was a guess.
There are 50 states.
Well, when in doubt, you guess New Jersey.
You'd be a funny guy if you weren't a problem I'm having.
(feigned laughter)
There's a graveyard for personnel files.
You were asking about a former employee.
I heard you say that to Morris.
I could show you where it is.
So, Hawk says
you're a historian.
U of C?
Uh, well, no.
You'd sort of call it, uh, freelance, I guess.
A freelance historian, hmm.
Well, you must know
Professor Langenheim, Bloomington.
I did a piece on him last year.
Huh? Yeah, Langenheim.
He's a good guy, Langenheim.
Oh, you know what?
Except he's not at Bloomington.
He's at Wisconsin.
Oh, Long-- Langenham that, the one at Wisconsin.
Well, sure, that's-- I was thinking of the other one.
"Snow."
Are you going to open that?
'Cause I got to admit, I'm curious.
Oh, yeah.
Check these out. Ah!
(papers fall)
(drawer closes)
Gary?
Hey, wait.
Gary, what are you doing?
See ya. Gary!
Hey? (kicking gate)
Gary, open this up!
Excuse me.
There's a very strange woman
downstairs in the archives, yelling.
You might want to check that out.
(dog barking)
This can't be right.
There's nothing here.
"Our famous Caesar: crispy Romaine..."
Skeezer salad's more like it.
"Santa Fe Chicken Salad..."
Mystery meat.
Gary, the paper comes to you. That's all you need to know.
How about pasta of the day? You don't need to know how or why
or how come it's you Pasta of the day or fish of the day.
I mean, most people you ask They got fresh pan-fried trout...
why we're here, what difference do they make, they can't say.
You want to get the hush puppies? But you, you're special.
"Special"?
That paper makes you special.
"Special"? You want to know what that paper makes me?
It makes me nuts.
I don't have a life. I can't get a job.
I don't even have a girlfriend. You know why?
Because every time I get close to having
anything that's normal in life,
that paper takes it away.
No, no, no, no, no-- that paper comes to you
so you can try and do something.
It's a gift.
Don't look at it in the mouth.
What else you got?
(blues song playing)
How about hearts of palm?
In the folder.
Oh, I got a claim ticket that, uh, belongs
probably to a hotel that doesn't exist anymore.
Mm-hmm.
Employee stuff.
Mr. Lucius Snow.
Height: 5'7".
Weight: 155 pounds, blue eyes.
Date of birth, 19-- there's a blank spot.
Died, 1996, September 28.
And that's about it.
Gary, the day he died, you remember, don't you?
Remember what?
That's the day before the paper started coming to you.
(elevator bell dings)
Oh, you're good.
What are you doing in here?
The doorman let me in.
Oh... the doorman let you in.
Right, well, why don't you...
Don't touch me.
Get out of here!
So what's your big secret, huh?
What secret? I do this
for a living. I know when somebody's hiding something.
(distant siren blares)
You know, I don't like you. I don't like you.
Good. Good.
You can tell your union bosses something for me.
They don't scare me-- not by blowing up my desk
and not by sending some good-looking
muscle to shut my up. Hey...
"Good-looking"? I must be losing my touch.
I'm behind you.
I'm the guy you're looking for.
You're Richie O'Brien?
You can tell me about Red Cooper?
I was there.
If you talk to me, I'll keep you anonymous.
Not now.
There is a Motel 9 near the fairgrounds in Oak Park.
Okay. Tomorrow morning, 8:00.
Take a room.
I'll see you then.
No, wait, Richie?
(thunder rumbles)
RADIO ANNOUNCER: Good morning! It's another day
in Chicago and here's what's (cat meows)
happening in the world. (paper thudding against door)
The City Council moves into the final stages of...
(meows)
Oh, God.
You're looking for Meredith, huh?
I-I was hoping you could help me find her.
Mister, I don't know where anyone is.
Malcolm, you misspelled "brassiere" again.
MAN: Oh, boy.
Okay, I'll put on every available man.
Call out the National Guard.
Yeah, look, it's important that I find her.
You know what this is? Tomorrow's headlines.
Massacres in Burundi,
a serial killer gets the chair tonight.
But should I care? No.
I'm not running a paper,
I'm running a missing persons bureau,
or maybe a lonely hearts' club.
That's her desk.
She's not at it, as usual.
Trust me, you don't find Meredith,
she finds you.
Henderson, this death row guy got any hobbies here?
GARY: Pretty sloppy work, lady.
Hey?
Thank you.
Oh, and check your headlines. Your execution story's wrong.
The governor's going to grant a pardon at midnight.
Uh, Henderson...
(clicking) Come on, Richie.
Where are you? (knocking at door)
Ow, my hand! My hand! What are you doing here?
My hand! My hand! My hand! Go away!
My hand! My hand! My hand! My hand!
All right! Come in!
Who sent you here, huh?
Nobody sent me. How did you know I was here?
What do you mean...? Huh? What have you done with Richie?
Don't poke me. I don't know who Richie is and I don't care.
I do know you got to get out of here. Oh, yeah? How's that?
"How's that?" I'll tell you how's that.
'Cause someone's coming here to get you...
Friends of yours, no doubt. You know what?
I don't trust you and I'm going to call the cops.
Okay, you call the cops. While you're calling the cops,
why don't you call the ambulance, too?
'Cause I think you broke my ha...
Hello? Hello?
The phone's dead.
That's it.
We're going. I'm staying.
No, you're going.
Ow! Staying!
Going!
Next floor, 306.
I'm going.
Thanks for trusting.
For the record, I did not say I trusted you.
Just get in the car. What, in this?
It's a rental. Get in the car.
Let's take mine. Would you get in the car?
Do not tell... MAN: There they are.
Put your seat belt on.
Don't tell me what to do! Put your
seat belt on. Listen, Mr. Safety, now there are two killers coming...
The car won't start without your seat belt on.
Well, take your time.
Start the car!
(engine revving)
(tires screeching)
Take me home.
Good idea, like they don't know where you live.
There's probably a bomb in your toaster.
I can't go home, I can't go anywhere.
I don't get it. Why would they come after me?
Without Richie, I don't even have a story.
Well, maybe they don't know that and maybe Richie s... ow!
Maybe Richie set you up.
I don't think so.
I think you scared him off.
Oh, so, it's all my fault, I see.
You know, you got a real knack
for pushing your problems on other people.
Do you know that you live in a dump?
What's that supposed to mean?
(grunting): What's this?
Look, why don't you keep your paws off my things?
Just being curious, doing my job.
Yeah, well, your curiosity is giving me a headache. Ow!
You know, I'm usually pretty good at figuring people out,
but I'm having a tough time with you.
What is it you do with your life, anyway?
It's none of your business... Give me your hand.
...what I do with my life. You got a job, huh?
You got a wife?
(grunts) Bingo.
(chuckles)
Hey, come on, let's just add this up.
What do we got? We got a guy in a bad hotel room.
Why?
I think maybe his wife threw him out on his keister.
And why is he still here?
'Cause he's burning a torch for her.
"Burning a torch," that's a good one.
What does he do for a living? Does he have a job?
He's not a hit man-- not driving that car, he's not--
and he's not a reporter. "Driving that car"?
Otherwise, he would have stolen my story by now.
How do you think I'm doing? How do I think you're doing?
Well, I think you're pretty much finished.
Uh-uh-uh-uh.
I think he's looking for something--
something that's missing,
something that has to do with this.
All right, give it back.
Nope.
(grunts)
Let it go.
Or what?
Just let it go.
(book thuds)
You just dropped my book.
So?
So pick it up.
Don't tell me what to do.
It's your book, you pick it up.
What are you doing? What do you mean what am I doing?
I mean what are you doing? I kissed you.
I know you kissed me. Why'd you stop?
I didn't stop; you stopped.
I didn't stop...
Kiss me again.
Don't tell me what to do.
Don't ever tell me what to do.
Okay.
(thunder rumbling)
(train cars rattling in distance)
(chuckles)
Good morning.
(grunts)
(chuckles)
Faker.
(door closes)
Morning.
CHUCK: Hey, Gare.
(shower running)
Gare, it's me.
(knocking)
Gare, wake up.
Gare?
Chuck, go away.
What? I can't hear you.
I said go away.
What's wrong? Are you sick?
I'm busy.
Doing what?
Hey.
Gare...?
Oh...
(Meredith singing to herself)
(train passing in distance)
(distant car horns honk)
Hey.
Hey, good morning.
(cat meows)
(paper thudding against door)
Gary?
(meows)
GARY (shouting): Hello, down there!
Hey, do you want coffee?
Uh, yeah, black.
(sighs)
You want cream?
Uh, black.
Sugar?
Black, please.
So, you, uh, you want it just black, then?
Uh, yeah, black would be good.
(cat meows)
That's what I thought.
Hey, buddy, how're you doing?
Hey, how are you doing today?
Huh, how are...?
What are you doing here?
(meows)
Don't read that.
We're not going to play this game again, are we?
I just don't like people reading my paper. Why?
I'm a reporter.
You're serious about this, aren't you?
Okay.
What is it?
I-I...
Look, I-I can't explain this.
I'm a big girl.
I can take it.
Who? The wife?
The silence is killing me.
Come on, what?
Yes, no?
Look, I can't do this.
I'm sorry.
Where you going?
I'm going to work.
I'm going to do my job.
(kettle whistling)
Your coffee's ready.
(door closes)
I don't want it anymore!
You hear me?
Good morning, sir.
Good morning.
No paper today?
Nope.
♪ ♪
HARRY: Well, if it isn't the ever elusive Miss Carson.
Not today, Harry.
You never call, you never write.
Especially you never write.
Where you been?
Meeting didn't happen, contact didn't show.
That would be yesterday; now it's today.
I had a rough night, okay?
I'm so tired of this-- chasing air.
I know more about the people I write about than mysel....
I think I'm going to retire... someplace peaceful.
Someplace where there's no men.
Oh, butt out.
You're not going to retire. Want to bet?
You're all newspaper, kid, it's in your blood.
You couldn't retire if you wanted to.
Try me.
Coffee's cold.
Tonight?
Hey, Jimmy, this story you wrote-- what happened?
Happened to what?
I read it this morning.
It said the budget passed.
You're joking, right? No.
They don't vote till tonight.
Besides, the council's made up their mind.
It doesn't stand a chance.
Carson, maybe you ought to take up smoking again.
Miss Carson? Yeah.
There's a message for you.
Not now.
He said it's important.
Don't care.
Some guy named Richie.
He called from downstairs in the lobby.
He said you--
he said you'd want to know.
(elevator bell dinging) Hey, hold it.
What floor?
Lobby.
Hey, I said lobby.
(squeaking)
Sorry, cupcake, no can do.
Where's Richie?
Richie ain't anywhere.
That message you got was from us.
So, where you guys taking me?
Dinner and drinks? Or how about the trunk of your car?
Neither. The car went dead three blocks from here.
Carburetor problems.
Sorry to hear that, boys.
Here's going to have to do.
Open it up.
(mouse squeaking)
Check it out.
Let's talk. Okay.
What do you want to talk about?
Sports? Philosophy?
How about Red Cooper?
We want to know what Richie told you.
Sorry, not much.
Yeah, that's what Richie said,
but we didn't believe him.
If you think you're gonna intimidate me with that $20.00 jacket,
you don't know who you're dealing with.
(indistinct chatter)
(whispers): The stairs.
Meredith?
It's not your color, okay?
Nice shot. Thanks.
What are you doing here?
Well, I missed you.
I'm supposed to believe that?
Come on, come on, come on.
What's this?
Where?
There.
In here.
Oh, this is cozy.
This is kind of like Tales From The Crypt.
All right. We got 'em now.
Okay.
What now?
In about ten minutes,
the night watchman comes and finds our bodies.
What? Well, if there were a night watchman,
in about ten minutes, he'd come and find our bodies.
You do know something, don't you?
We're going to die.
It's in the paper,
isn't it?
Isn't it?
I thought the guy in the paper was Richie.
I was wrong.
Fooled again.
And if you had known?
I'd have come, anyway.
(pounding on door)
Can't you do any better than that?
I'm working it.
I'll do it myself.
You want to know something ironic?
I'm holding the scoop of the century here,
and I don't even care.
(muffled pounding)
(pounding continues)
What's this?
(pounding continues)
Burn.
No, wait! The paper?
I knew it was good for something.
(pounding continues)
All right, now, get us out of here.
(alarm blaring)
What's that?
Call it in.
I'll be back.
(alarm continues)
Forget it.
Hold it. Whoa. What'd we do?!
(alarm blaring)
I guess I got a story to file.
Yeah.
What time are you going to be done?
In time for dinner.
Okay.
You going to tell me about it?
About what?
The paper.
I thought you didn't care about the paper.
Well, I thought we were going to die.
No comment.
I gotta go.
MORRIS: So she nailed them, did she?
That's our girl, Meredith.
Don't stop till you bring 'em down.
And this...
belonged to old man Snow, you say?
That'd be like him.
Play things close, you know.
And he lived at Brown's?
Far as I know.
Most of his life, anyway.
Except toward the end.
He moved about a year ago.
He-he moved?
Couldn't quite figure out why.
Funny guy, that Snow.
Where did he move?
(mumbling)
DOORMAN: Ah, there you go.
I knew she was back here somewhere.
A trunk?
I was hoping for at least a sack full of cash.
This is where it's been the whole time?
In your hotel?
Figures. Wait, wait a second.
You mean, you knew this guy?
Old man Snow?
Oh, sure did.
He died the day before you moved in.
12 bucks.
Oh.
Business is business.
12 bucks?
There you go. Good luck.
You know what?
I've been waiting for something like this
ever since the paper started coming.
And now that it's here,
I'm not so sure I want to know.
Maybe you're supposed to know.
(purring)
(hinges creaking)
What is it?
(meows)
(clicking)
Like I said, kid,
you're all... newspaper.
Shut up, Harry.
Good night.
(distant siren wailing)
(phone line ringing)
(ringing continues)
You're, uh, not hungry by chance, are you?
Moo goo gai pan from Woo Ling's.
It's the best food in town.
Hi.
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