["Intratable" by Santi Mostaffa playing]
[Erick] Hey.
[music continues]
[music stops]
You got a copy of The Five Love Languages in yet?
[birds chirping]
[clicks tongue] Shit!
Alright, I'll be back.
["Lowdown Stank" by Breakestra playing]
[Felix, in Spanish] Hey white boy,
a bunch of four tops just arrived and they're VIP,
so prep the potatoes and the mushrooms ASAP.
And before the boss arrives, okay? If not, that jerk will lose it
if he shows up to a bunch of naked shrimp.
Yep.
That's shrimp, right?
[in Spanish] Yes. This guy! Of course, it's shrimp.
-I know, I know what is shrimp. -[chuckles] Gringo.
[in Spanish] He thinks he's Forrest Gump. What is shrimp, Forrest?
[Yessika] Oh, that's my new Twitter bio:
"Yessika Castillo: Paid to scare the whites."
[Ana laughs]
[cellphone beeps]
[soft music playing]
[siren blaring in distance]
Bitch,
I'm getting real tired of this three-way
-relationship with your Insta. -I'm--I'm sorry, babe.
I'm sorry. Look, I was just--
I was just talking to the Fijate Fi producer
who's interviewing me at the show tomorrow.
That's how it starts.
Yes, baby. [kisses]
And from a guillotine, classism, propaganda.
Mm-mm. I'm not dating a vendida, boo-boo.
No, you're not. [laughs]
'Cause none of this is for sale, babycakes.
-It's only for you. -Mm.
-[knocking on door] -[Ana gasps]
-Ana, tell your needy black girlfriend -Shit!
that there's sweet bread and coffee.
[sighs]
[theme song playing]
[cock crowing]
[Casimiro, in Spanish] Now,
let's see Catalinita...
[chickens clucking]
how many eggs did you lay for us today?
Wake up.
[shooing away]
Hey.
[chuckles]
What? No. What are you--? Agh.
Pop.
[in Spanish] Don't ruin your cousin's culo-nary
culonary experience, cabrón.
It's--it's culinary, Pop.
-When you say "culonary" it sounds gross. -Cul--
Just taking enough to cover this freeloader's part of the rent. Pop,
when are we going to talk to Rob about the money we owe for the shop?
[clicks tongue] I'll give it to him when I want to, mijo.
Dude, Rage Against the Machine is playing at the Orpheum this weekend.
-Hmm? -[Erik] Well, I ain't got time for that.
Go find some foodie friends to go mosh with.
Abuelo, Rob's gonna bitch about
the rent if we don't pay for another month,
and you need to stop covering Ana's rent.
We ain't made of money.
[Chris] But you love mosh pits. You always said that
that's how you legally get your aggression out.
-Remember? -Yeah, not today.
[mouth full] Alright, let's go!
Get ready! We're going to be late.
I haven't even eaten yet.
Let's go. We're going to be late.
Hey, Pop, I could always give you a ride.
[Casimiro] A ride?
I wouldn't cheat on my precious Salma Hayek.
[laughs] All right.
[exhilarating music playing]
[brakes squeaking]
[in Spanish] I am worried about Chris.
Don't. He likes the hermit life.
[horn honks]
Hey!
[in Spanish] Be careful with my old lady.
[slams] Ah, she likes it rough.
[in Spanish] Andale, take it easy. Take it easy.
Chris just moved back.
He wants to be your friend.
-Good morning! -[woman, in Spanish] Hi, Casimiro!
He's fine.
Besides, I think Idaho made him allergic to Mexicans.
[in Spanish] He's not like his father
and you're not like yours.
Take him to a nightclub.
Find him a girlfriend!
One with a nice big booty.
-I'd rather help you get one, -[keys jingling]
and set up that Bumble account, viejito, huh?
I'll use that shirtless picture of you in the rio. Huh?
[in English] What's this?
[in Spanish] She's still here and nobody's changing that.
-[in Spanish] Quit messing with me! -[Casimiro laughs] Let's get to work!
[excilarating music playing]
[kids talking indistinctly]
[in Spanish] Five dollars for a burrito?
[in Spanish] It's only a fifty cent increase!
What does it cost you to help your friend's business, dumbass?
I'm a dumbass? You're the dumbass!
It costs me a bus ride. An elote.
-A taco. -[Casimiro sighs]
A tostada, a bag of hot Cheetos.
Hey! Whose side are you on, little girl?
Yeah, we've been giving you free burritos for years, man. Call it even.
I sang for those tacos.
-Huh. -[Javier sings]
-Nobody asked you to sing. -You ain't Chente, bro.
Do you want your burrito or not, Javier?
[Casimiro] One's coming out.
Hey, primita, how's your girlfriend? She finally let you off the leash?
[Ana] How's Lidia's foot, huh?
You know, since she kicked your ass to the curb and all?
-[Norma laughing] -[door opens]
[Rob] So, imagine owning in Echo Park
like five years ago. That's what Boyle Heights is.
[client] It's a great location.
This motherfucker.
[client] I can see the potential.
What's going on here, Rob?
What the fuck are you doing, Rob? Huh?
OK. They're harmless. They're harmless.
Rob. Rob. Talk to me before bringing this--
You got a ranch or something?
Hey, you come up in here and disrespect my grandpa like this, huh, Roberto?
All right, do you guys want some tacos?
You gonna...? You should get some tacos. Some carnitas, yeah?
Extra guac, por favor.
[Norma] OK, OK, but this ain't Chipotle, patrón.
Two months,
you haven't paid rent.
-We pay rent. -[quietly] I pay rent.
Not all of it.
You breach your lease,
I'm well within my right to evict you.
You fucking doubled the rent on us,
-you coconut sellout. -[mumbles] Erik.
Hmm. Coconuts are delicious.
Well, you get it when you get it...
-potato. -[Rob] Oh, potato,
oh yeah, well, OK, 'cause they're technically brown
-on the outside... -And white on the inside, like you,
you punkass bitch.
Do you have the rent?
If not, I have business to handle.
[dish rattles]
Go handle the tacos.
[Norteño music playing]
[birds chirping]
I don't have all of it.
OK. Um...
Just...
give me what you have.
All right, you got to figure out
the rest, man. Like ASAP.
I mean it.
Casimiro, qué linda familia.
OK, stay woke.
[in Spanish] Hey, what's up with my burrito?
[lively music playing]
[waiter] Enjoy.
Table six is still waiting for their risotto alla zucca! [slams]
Come on, guys!
-[all] Yes, Chef. -Move!
[inhales]
-[Chef Austin] Christian. -Yes, Chef.
Is there sage in this?
Um... Yes, Chef.
It's fucking brilliant.
Don't do it again.
-No. -All right?
This is my dish, bud, all right?
You save that innovation for family meal.
Shit, yeah, dude, that's impressive.
Thank you, Chef. Uh, speaking of, Chef,
can I ask you for a favor?
Shoot.
Um... I'm applying for Le Cordon Bleu in Paris.
Oh la la. Aren't we the hot shit now, hey?
Yeah. I was just wondering if you'd be able to write me a letter of rec.
Ooh, I don't know. [sucks in breath]
Hmm.
I'll tell you what. Why don't you draft it up,
and maybe I'll send it if you don't fuck it up.
Yes, Chef. Thank you, Chef.
For fuck's sake, Felix, enough with the parsley.
[big exhale] This isn't fucking Applebee's!
[crunching]
Hey, we could burn it all down and collect the insurance, huh?
[in Spanish] What a great idea, mijo.
Just leave me there inside...
so I can burn down with it all.
[bottles clatter]
[crickets chirping]
[Ana, crunching]
Is everything cool?
Mm-hm. Pop's just over here auditioning for Miramar Salvaje.
-[Casimiro] Chavala. -You'd win an Emmy.
Pops, look, a 50-cent increase on burritos isn't gonna do shit.
But if you keep letting me make changes,
-I promise, I will-- -What do you think, mijo?
What do you think?
Uh...
Well, have you asked my dad for help?
Your dad? If he's not helping you, do you think he's going to help me?
Yeah, you're right.
Abuelita's nickname for him was always
Stingy.
Do you have a moment to look over the books?
No, Pop, I gotta write this letter.
-Por favor. -We're fine, Pop.
Oh, really? You're gonna bust out the prayer hands?
Si, yes.
That's not--that's not fair. All right.
[scoffs]
Well, how about firing someone?
-I mean, that's a start. -[snorts] Wow.
[Ana] Damn, that's cold.
Mama Fina's doesn't function without Norma and Geo.
-[stammers] Who would I fire? -Geo, for sure.
What? Come on, man.
Geo's family! What's wrong with you?
-Chris, just stay out of this, please. -[Chris] Oh, yeah.
It's not like I have a business degree or anything, so...
-What do I know? -[Casimiro] Okay.
Okay, I'll think about it.
I'll think about it.
Pop, I'll take a pay cut, all right? I'll quit. I'll quit.
-Come on, man. That's not necessary. -And Lidia? Lidia. Lidia.
Whatever you need, Pop.
Family comes first.
OK, well, this is getting depressing.
OK, ah, I'm going to work.
Anyone for miches?
Yeah.
Salud!
-Mm! -[grunts]
-[Ana scoffs] -[blows a raspberry] That is... stringent.
Mm. Do you have any añejo back there?
-[tsks] Come on. -[Erik] Hey,
-don't complain about free alcohol, bro. -[Ana] Mm-hmm.
Ana's risking her one steady job, so we have drunk selfies on the ground.
[Erik] I can't wait
to shoot the shit with you in the welfare line, cuz.
[chuckles]
I heard about the shop.
Sorry.
-You should hit me up though. We can-- -[exhale]
Come on, I'm just fucking around, we're good.
Pops and I are golden.
I got our business covered.
All right, come on.
Come on.
-It's our turn. -Nope.
-No. No, I don't like... -[Yessika] Yes!
I don't like chunti Mexican music.
-It's all the same. -Get over yourself!
-[Chris] It ends with "tan tan!" -[Ana] Come on.
-[Yessika laughs] -[Ana sings in Spanish]
[all singing in Spanish on mariachi instrumental]
Hey, beautiful.
Hi.
So, I'll pick you up Friday night?
We'll get upstairs and we'll get some of that sexy shrimp, hm?
Get something yummy in that tum?
Nope. I'm good.
What's wrong?
Are you under the weather?
Working overtime? What's up?
-Look, Erik, can we not do this? -Do what?
Hey,
is this about the money I owe you? Huh?
I just need a little time, all right?
You remember we broke up right?
Yeah. So Friday?
No, for real. Like really broke up this time.
Don't worry about it. I'm gonna pay you back.
I'm a man of my word.
Look, you can Snapchat these excuses.
DM, text it, shit, TikTok it. I don't care.
Pop may have to close the shop.
Yeah, of course.
Wait, what?
Nothing. Erik, is that all?
What do you mean "of course"?
Nothing.
[indistinct chattering]
Lidia, I'm doing everything I can to take care of my baby.
I'm not your baby, Erik.
I meant the baby.
[big exhale]
I got to go.
You should go take care of Pop.
He needs you.
["Adiós, Adiós" by El Poder playing]
[Erik, chuckling] Hey. Tamales. Tamales.
But in Idaho they call me by my full name.
I was like that's not necessary, but it's OK.
Shh.
[Ana] Mm.
Slow down.
What? They don't have tamales in Idaho?
Mm-mm. No.
They got cows and potatoes.
No real Mexican anything.
-Yeah, present company included. -[Yessika, laughs]
Are you sure that tamale's not going to offend your classy taste buds?
My buds? Oh, they've got a wide spectrum of appreciation.
That's why I can do Costco dogs and gourmet tamales.
There ain't no gourmet tamale food.
-They're not, but they should be. -[Erik and Ana, laugh]
That's a good idea.
-It could bring us some new clientele. -Sure.
'Cause white folks love dropping money on authenticity.
Tamales, serapes.
-Nopales, Huaraches. -Our hoods.
Come on. Can't they just love something 'cause they think it's cool?
Honey, they may love all our shit, but they don't love us.
Even whitewash motherfuckers like Pop's landlord
can do a Mexican hat dance, all while kicking walk Pop to the curb.
OK. All I'm saying is that maybe if you fancied things up a bit,
you could compete with the changing economy.
[Ana] OK, OK.
Mr. Wall Street, where's your two-piece suit, huh?
It's in Idaho with my potatoes.
I'm sorry, haven't you been gone for a decade?
-Why are you weighing in? -You know what?
I'm gonna take all your fucking advice.
Right?
I'm gonna get it, and I'm gonna put it in my pocket for later.
[Ana and Yessika laugh]
Save it for later, but you're gonna use it at least.
-To wipe my ass. -To wipe your ass?
Got it. You know what? Whatever.
At least, I'll have a job six months from now.
[rap music playing]
Shush! Shit.
[whispers] I'm going to bed.
[snoring]
[pulsing guitar music playing]
[startles]
[swallows]
[Erik exhales]
[whistles]
[horn honks in distance]
Geo.
Mm?
This is really hard for me to say, man.
You know what? Hey.
For the kids, huh?
[in Spanish] Oh wow!
[laughs] I'll tell them Uncle Erik sent it to them!
-Nah, we're not really related, man. -Hombre,
I mean they love el tío Erik.
They always say,
"Daddy! When I grow up I want to be like Uncle Erik!"
Will you just let me get this out, please.
What?
You know time's are rough, compa.
I know.
Geo, we're letting you go.
Go where?
Wait,
am I fired?
I'm sorry, Geo, it's just--
there aren't enough cuts to make, bro.
-Something's gotta give. -Hombre,
cut my hours,
pero to fire me ¿así nomás?.
No, and I told you last week that I have gout in my big toe.
Have you seen me limp?
Yes, I know. I've seen you limp and--
And I got a baby on the way, cabrón.
Hey, we all got a family to take care of.
You're fired, Geo.
[in pain] Ay-ay-ay-ay.
[sucks in breath] Ay-ay.
I'm really sorry, Geo.
[Ana] All right, go wash up, baby girl.
Chris will make a snack and you can do your homework.
Don't be putting no smoked Gouda in my grilled cheese, white boy.
Hey, don't knock it 'til you try it.
[Ana] Hey, I won't be at the gallery too long.
Ah, thank you so much for watching her.
Yeah, sure thing.
Hey, I'm working on my letter of rec.
If I say "Chris's culinary skills
are reminiscent of the great pope
of gastronomy Paul Bocuse,"
does that sound uppity?
Why you gotta go all the way to freaking Paris to be a chef?
What? I'm gonna bag Michelin stars in Boyle Heights? Please.
Nevermind. I forgot.
You and your daddy like to run off to foreign lands to assimilate.
Oh, no, no, no, baby girl,
I don't think you know what foreign means.
What do you care?
I thought all y'all couldn't wait to get rid of me.
You, Erik, your girlfriend...
She loved treating me like yuppie trash the other night.
You are a yuppie.
[Ana chuckles]
She wasn't treating you like trash.
She was just stating the facts.
Chris, Pop might lose everything,
and you're over here talking about economics.
Yeah, that's just the free market,
all right? I'm not trying to be a dick.
Well, gold star for effort, fucker.
You owe me a dollar.
Girl, ssh--
[cell phone rings]
Oh. Ah. Work wants me to come in.
But you're the only person I can binge watch The Office with.
I know, baby girl. I know, but I gotta keep Chef Austin happy.
Wait, are you seriously leaving?
I don't want to piss him off.
I mean, I want him to sign my letter of rec.
Great. Go on, punkass.
You care all about job security,
so whatever. Go.
All right, forget it. [sighs]
Yeah, eat Trump's culo.
[lively music playing]
[indistinct chattering]
Oh, god, maybe I should have worn my hoops.
Fuck, I'm gonna look so basic.
Baby, they don't care about your earrings.
They care about your art.
People are going to love you.
You're a boss bitch.
Now, give me your alpha pose.
-[sharp exhale] -Ooh.
Too much alpha.
Give me the winner pose.
Mm-hm. Who's the baddest motherfucking artist in East LA?
I'm the baddest motherfucking artist in East LA.
Yes! [kisses]
Danny's here.
Gonna go play with him.
Peace out, cub scout.
Wait, stay where I can see you.
She's fine.
[giggling] Oh, wait.
-Hola, mujer. -Uh.
-You must be beaming. -[giggling]
Tell everyone in Telelandia your name, girl.
Hey, I'm Ana Morales.
I am an artist from Boyle Heights.
Oh, how cute.
I didn't know Esteban's girlfriend was an artist too.
Is there a lot of friendly competition with your man?
After all, he is the star of the show.
What?
I ain't Esteban's girlfriend.
I'm the artist who put up that dope ass mosaic over there.
Ah, perdón,
I made a little boo-boo.
-Let's start over. Yes? -Yessika,
where's Nayeli?
Nayeli?
[cell phone buzzing]
THE BOOGEYMAN
Are you fucking up my dish with sage again?
No, Chef, I'm fucking it up the old-fashioned way.
[chuckles]
Here you go.
What's this?
A resignation letter?
-I don't hate sage that much, kid. -No, sir. It's the--
it's a letter of rec, remember? For cooking school?
Well, why didn't you just email it to me?
[stammers] It's nicer in paper.
Well, luckily for you,
you can write English,
unlike these guys. Right?
[woman from TV, speaking Spanish]
[Beatriz, in Spanish] Where were you?
-It's her fault. -It's her fault.
Oh, so you think you're staying at a Motel 6 or something? Huh?
Oh, please! Let me check your bags, young lady.
Stop. Look, it's Nayeli's fault. She took off without telling me.
Go to your room!
Where were you?
I'm sure you were with your pesky girlfriend, right?
Where are my paints, Amá?
Oh, well who knows?
Maybe they went on vacations.
My, I wonder what it must feel like to take a vacation.
Tell them to send me a postcard.
Because if you haven't noticed...
I am stuck here killing myself while you're out there playing artist!
Why can't you just support me?
Your grandfather can't pay your rent anymore.
Say goodbye to your personal Don Francisco!
It's time you get a real job, mijita.
I have a job.
A full-time job, Ana!
I worked my ass off for those paints.
Where are they?
[sharp exhale] Hmm, let me see. [gasps]
"We are on vacation in the trash.
Wish you were here."
[yells]
Don't slam the door in my face, babosa!
[big exhales]
[in Spanish] I'm going to buy you some brand new paints. You'll see! [sighs]
[chuckles] Stop.
-[beeps] -A ver Whassa.
What's that dumb "Amazonian" thing again?
-Stop. -No, help me!
We're fucking poor, remember!
Yeah, but poor people with big dreams, chamaca!
Abuelo, I can't always run to you for everything.
Why not? Who the hell says you can't? Eh?
I won't let you stop painting, mija.
I'll always be here for you, my love.
But... I did want to talk to you about money.
No, no, it's okay. [sighs]
Mom told me.
I understand.
I'm just trying to help and
it means so much to me, but...
[sighs] I just need to get a real job.
[tsks]
[kisses]
[ranch music playing]
One second, ma'am.
Pop, we need you on the line!
Where the hell is Geo?
Geo's so late.
I'm going to kill that guy!
[big exhale]
I let him go.
Let who go where?
We both know it needed to be done.
You fired Geo, cabrón?
-Look, I was trying to help. -Help?
Help? Huh?
Help give me a heart attack, cabrón!?
What in the hell were you thinking? Eh?
This is my business! Not yours!
I'm the boss!
[customer clears throat]
Get out of here!
Ooh, mm-mm-mm. Mm-mm-mm. Mm-mm-mm.
Do it.
I'm sorry.
Ooh.
-[music fades out] -All right, Pop. I got you a salad.
I know you don't like it, but it's good.
-I'm not hungry, mijo. -Try it.
So, why are you here, viejo?
I need your help, mijo...
with the business.
Yeah, I'll give you money.
No, no, no, no, no. That's for cooking school.
But you're very smart!
You can help me improve the shop so it pays for itself.
Is Erik cool with that?
Erik?
Who cares what Erik thinks! Huh?
Yo soy el jefe. I'm the boss. OK!
I want my grandson's help.
My güero's help.
What do you think? Tell me.
Only if you talk to Erik first.
I didn't ask his permission when I offered to let you live in my house.
OK, and then you have to take the money.
[stammers] Pop, I can't help you with the changes if Mama Fina's closed.
OK.
[sighs]
[breathes deeply]
Thank you for the food, mijo.
[indistinct chatter]
Are you getting any viejas, Miro?
Eh?
[in Spanish] I don't have time to date, dummy.
At the very least a little "cuchi-cuchi," no?
[exhales]
There was only one woman for me.
She's gone.
What does that have to do with cuchi-cuchi?
Hey, compadre, you seem grumpier than usual.
What happened?
We fired Geo.
-No manches. -Geo has sciatica.
-You understand, right? -Of course, I understand!
With all these greedy landlords
wanting to replace us all with ramen spots.
De la chingada.
But hey...
didn't Geo have a glass eye?
That's pretty fucked up, no?
You know what's the most fucked up part?
Spending your whole life building a business,
[bright guitar music playing]
just so some idiot can take it away.
Or that you can create a legacy for your family...
Only to discover it's not enough to save them.
Not enough to give them a more secure future.
Not even enough to help them get ahead.
-Hey. -[Chris' Dad] Why haven't you been
answering my phone calls?
Oh, I'm sorry, are you paying for me to go to cooking school?
Oh, so you could waste my money on chingaderas?
OK, well, fuck you too, Dad.
-Love you. Bye. -What--
So they can pursue big dreams
that we could never have imagined for ourselves.
Instead... it can all get bulldozed.
As if we're worthless.
As if we don't exist.
Fuck... your... development mother!
But you know what?
Everyone can go to hell.
I'm in my hood and here...
I'll stay until I die.
Eso!
[police siren blares]
[music fades out]
["Sancocho" by La Misa Negra playing]
Subtitle translation by Daiana Kirschner