Netflix original film Red Notice dropped last Friday November 12th, 2021.
#RedNotice was Netflix’s biggest opening day film.
rottentomatoes: 35%
metacritic: 37
imdb: 6.4
Nolan Booth
Nolan Booth tries to gather Cleopatra’s three $300m bejeweled eggs outside of Rome, Italy.
“Oh. Whoa. Whoa, whoa, whoa. Jesus, you scared me. I know you. You’re the… you’re the slow bald guy that’s been chasing me. You’re American. What brings you to Rome? Oh, it’s beautiful. Beautiful place. First time? That was a fun foot chase, right? Lots of twists and turns. Hijinks. Who knew it’d end up like this? Right. Okay. Well, hold on one sec. I just have two questions. Okay. Um… first question, where’d you get that jacket? It’s a statement piece. Somewhere there is a very nude cow whispering… …’worth it.’ And number two, on the whole arresting me thing, I totally get it. But you don’t happen to have, like, a badge or somethin’ tucked away in the turtleneck, do you? Here’s the thing. You’re putting me in a pickle. Without identification, how do I know who you are? For all I know, you could be the bad guy, and I could be the other bad guy. I’m gonna give this to you. Yeah, I’m just gonna give it to you ’cause I don’t even want it. For the record, none of this feels good. Whoa! Can you hold on to this for me? Thanks.” — Dylan Booth
“Aren’t you a little outside your jurisdiction? Wow. Hi, guys. Don’t take your shoes off or anything. You sure you brought enough guns? No way, José. The Intrepid Inspector Das. It’s nice to meet a fan. Yeah. One more and I get a Shawshank jacket. Your Instagram account? Oh, come on! Not like me? You don’t even know me. We could have a lot in common. You can’t prove that was me. I got that on Etsy. Sure thing. Yeah. Mmm-hmm. Are you insane? I love the money. Thank you. Worthy of what? This speech? Congratulations. How’d you find me? The Bishop.” — Dylan Booth
“I’m the most wanted art thief in the world. You a top or a bottom? Doesn’t matter. Prison’s gonna decide for us. Well, I’ll say one thing about ol’ Inspector Das, she’s got a real sense of humor. Bishop must have seen you coming from a mile away. Got your trust after selling me out. Can’t run a con without gaining the mark’s trust first, that’s page on. Well, you do now, that’s for sure. The same mystery thief who ratted me out is the same one who framed you. That seems like a coincidence, don’t you think? Egg. Two birds, one egg. It’s kind of a lay-up. Even Post Malone gets it. This is farm-to-table, right? Thank you.” — Dylan Booth
“No one has. But you don’t understand, that’s not the price for just one egg. Here’s the deal. Whoever brings this Egyptian billionaire all three eggs by the night of his daughter’s wedding gets all the marbles. Turns out, Mr. Big Daddy Big Bucks’ daughter, guess what her name is? Stop guessing, it’s Cleopatra. I mean, these people are horrible. But I like money, so… I’m not gonna lie, that’s a bit of a problem. I was gonna deal with the second egg first. Then the rest. Sotto Voce. I know all about this guy. His dad tried to strangle him when he was 14. Nobody can stand this son of a bitch. Apparently, it left quite the impression on him. And strangling folks became sort of a hobby for him. He’s a big fan. Sotto Voce is super scary. But he’s not above having a good time. Throws a masquerade party every year for his top buyers in his I-probably-have-a-tiny-penis villa in Valencia. Gunrunners are a little touchy about their identity. So the Eyes Wide Shut thing takes the edge off for everyone. Now, what none of these evil one-percenters know is that upstairs, locked away in a secret vault, Dr. Shirtless has in his possession an ancient pricelessness that I like to call… Cleopatra’s second egg. And it’s just begging for me to steal it. I’d be on my way there right now if you weren’t such a super cop. What? Do what? I’m not doing anything. If these guys here, if they find out you’re a C-O-P… this is a room full of convicted murderers and toilet vodka enthusiasts. We gotta make sure they know you’re not a cop. Nyet politsiya. guys? Nyet politsiya. Not a cop. This man is not a cop, all right? Get that through your thick skulls right now! He’s a profiler for the FBI, which does fall under the umbrella of law enforcement, but not a cop. It’s similar, but it’s not the same thing. It’s a complicated backstory. This is our good friend, Special Agent John Hartley. Let’s give him a warm welcome to the prison, guys. Thank you, guys. I don’t think anyone heard me. All’s quiet on the western front. Nobody’s… oh, no. Yep. Drago Grande heard. Here he comes. Okay, be cool. Don’t embarrass me. Hello, sir. Okay, he knows. He knows you’re a cop. The jig is up. It’s okay. You can… you can have mine. You need some nourishment. You should get up. You look like a little bitch right now. I say that as a friend. You got this. I’m in your corner.” — Dylan Booth
“God… all that working out. You still get your ass spanked by a toothless man with tuberculosis– okay. Okay. Right. No. Okay. Thank God, you’re here. Him? Oh, no, us. Okay. Oh, my God. You’re the captain? You mighty benefit from a little career change. I mean, I’m… I don’t think runway, but definitely regional catalog work, fliers… no shit, dipdick! Oh, I see what you did there. That’s… yeah, you got lucky a couple of times early on, you know? But you can’t name on time in the past year that you beat me. My parachute failed. My segway sank. Nobody knew that Miley Cyrus was going to be there. It was a completely unannounced show. I don’t know what she’s talking about. She’s lying. I do not know where the third egg is. I swear to God. Yes, that is me. Scratch that. That was me. I did say that. I was never gonna tell you about the third egg because you’re a cop. Rock-hard pass. Oh, hey, guys. Okay!” — Dylan Booth
“There’s no need to be disgusting. Here we go. Three, two one. Lift with your neck.” — Dylan Booth
Special Agent John Hartley
“You’re right, I’m not. Don’t worry. Left my chaps at home. I know how he thinks. He’s gonna do it today. Trust me. You should listen to her. Yeah, I get that a lot. The Bishop. In fact, it may already be gone. Do you have thermal sensors in this room? Show it to me. Well, you see, Cleopatra’s first egg is covered in 18-karat gold. And hold reflects radiation. That egg should be reflecting heat in this room. It should be red, not blue. Well, there’s only one way to find out. Hey, sorry, big man, but there’s no food or drink in the museum. Thank you.”
“Ah. What do you got in the bag? Gelato, the Colosseum. Yeah. Yep. I did. Fun’s over, Nolan Booth. Give me the bag, turn around, put your hands behind your back. You’re under arrest. I don’t need to show you a badge because I’ve got a gun. You’re right. I am the bad guy. Now shut up and give me the bag before I shoot you in the mouth. Good. Come on, let’s go. Shit.”
“Nice place you got here. Special Agent John Hartley, FBI. We met earlier. Good thing these guys aren’t. You know, I’m really starting to not like you. Maybe I don’t know you, but I’ve been building a profile on you, ever since you stole William Strang’s Lady with a Red Hat from the Tate back in 2014. I’ve been tracking your scores for a while. So let me take a crack at who I think you really are. Only child. Dad’s a Swiss cop, Mom’s an American professor. You started stealing between the ages of six and eight. You found out you had a real talent for it. It made you feel special, different. You like to work alone. You don’t like a team. The only jobs you take are the ones that make the big, splashy headlines, which tells me that you only do it for the thrill and not the money. I’m not done yet. I’m just getting to the good part. You’re welcome. A lot of thieves out there who claim to only do it for the money. That’s not unusual. But what is unusual is the risk that you take. The chances. It’s as though you wanna get caught so you can escape, just to prove yourself all over again, and prove that you’re better than everybody else and that you’re worthy. Your father’s love. Well, the same way I knew that you were gonna steal the egg in Rome. The Bishop.”
“Booth, I’m curious. How does it feel to be sold out by the most wanted art thief in the world? You were. I’ll see you there. All right. We’re good. Thank you. Flight’s in an hour. Something up? Okay. What’s going on? What are you doing with that? Booth gave us a fake egg. That’s impossible. Yes, it’s impossible. Listen, whatever you think this is, whatever you think I did, I didn’t do. Someone’s behind this. The Bishop, maybe even Booth himself. I’m being set up. Das, look at me. Look at my eyes. I didn’t do this.”
“You gotta be shittin’ me. Put ‘er there, roomie. You’re right, we should wash up first. It’s okay. You’re safe here. Except if they find out you’re a cop. Then they’re gonna wanna kill you. I know how a confidence scheme works, trust me. This is not a coincidence. This is a plan. In one move, The Bishop took out her lead competitor and lead investigator. Two birds, one stone. What? I don’t understand why. Why would the Bishop go to the trouble of framing me when she already has the egg?”
“I mean, what’s left? Three hundred million dollars? You’re kidding. I never heard of a price tag like that. So how does that work? No one knows where the third egg is. It’s never been found. All right, well, Bureau intel says that the second egg is owned by an international arms dealer. Don’t do that. Don’t do that. I know what you’re doing. Listen. Listen to me. I beg… okay, look. I don’t wanna do the whole prison fight thing with you… so please, no fight. Let’s just go back and finish our meals. No. No–“
“If you ever pull that shit again, it’ll be the last thing you do. You don’t know me, Booth. You have no idea what I’m capable of. She’s the Bishop. What are we doing here? What do you want? Shut up. You deleted my life. And now I’m stuck in a cell with this idiot. Well, too bad for you. Nobody knows where the third egg is. Didn’t tell me what? When were you gonna tell me about the third egg?”
“If we work together to catch her, I can do things to The Bishop you can’t do. I mean put her in prison. For life.”
The Bishop
“Hello, boys. It’s nice to finally meet you, Mr. Booth. Such a thrill to be face-to-face with the second best art thief in the world. Helsinki. Jakarta. Macau. You can have excuses or results. Not both. To have a chat. First of all, Agent Hartley, please accept my sincerest apologies for the whole mix-up in Rome. You see, after I stole the egg in Bali, I then made an $8 million deposit into an account registered in your name. Then, all I had to do was sit back and wait for Das to take the bait. A few clever keystrokes and a well-timed call intercept. FBI BAU Director’s office. And poof. Bye-bye, Agent John Hartley. Hello, suspicious suspect. Funny, don’t you think? Well, down to business then. At the risk of stating the obvious, I have the first egg in my possession, and in less than 48 hours, I’m have the second one as well. But that leaves an issue. The final egg. He didn’t tell you? You didn’t tell him? Your cellmate here knows exactly where the third egg is. My offer to you, Mr. Booth, is this. Tell me where the third egg is, I’ll get you out of here and give you 10%. I’m sorry we couldn’t do business. Well, perhaps a few more days in here with the prospect of thousands more to come will help change your mind. I’ll stop by once I have the second. Oh, and when I do, the offer’s gonna be 5%. Thank you, Captain. Labor detail for them both. Bye. Don’t miss me too much. Ta-ta!”
Urvashi Das
“You’re not a cop. You know what I mean, Agent. Your badge is no good here. So no American cowboy stuff. You sure about this? All right, then. Here we go. I’m not asking. You need to shut the museum down, evacuate your visitors, and seal all ingress and egress points immediately. Don’t test me, Director. This is Special Agent John Hartlet of the FBI’s Behavioral Analysis Unit. He’s a consulting profiler who specializes in art crime. Forty one hours ago, Agent Hartley received credible intelligence that the most wanted art thief in the world, a man named Nolan Booth, intends to steal the Egg of Cleopatra today. Listen to me, unless we stop it, that egg is gonna be stolen today. Relax, it’s fine. He knows what he’s doing. Seal the room. Now! Move! Move! He’s heading for the exit. Freeze!”
“Booth, don’t even move. What can I say? I like to be thorough? I wouldn’t have missed this for the world. I’ll take that. Thank you. Oh, that’s cute. You know what else is cute? Because you’re wanted in 18 separate countries, I get to choose which one of them detains you until trial, given your escape history. What are you, six for six now? Keep making your jokes, because I’m about to send you to the worst place in the world. Get him ready to move.”
“Wait. Wait here. There’s no chance I’m putting that thing in the same van as him. See you at the airfield. Hi, there. You leaving town? You could say that. Hmm. Funny, I was gonna ask you the same thing. Oh, this priceless piece of an ancient cultural whatnot? Oops! I’ll admit, Booth was my first thought too. Then I asked myself, ‘how well do you really know someone you only met 72 hours ago?’ And someone whose official credentials came solely by a written interagency communiqué. So I called up the Assistant Director of the BAU at Quantico, really nice lady. She’d never heard of you. Is it? As impossible as a John Hartley with a Swiss bank account that received an $8 million wire transfer from an encrypted third-party on the same day the egg was stolen? Quite a coincidence, wouldn’t you say, Agent? Maybe you are, maybe you’re not. Until I figure it out, I’m gonna keep you where I can find you. Now, normally, I’m not a vindictive person, but, well, I trusted you and you hurt my feelings. So I picked someplace extra special. It’s a bit of a black site. Kind of a land due process forgot. You’re under arrest, Agent Hartley. I don’t believe you.”
Museum Director
“Impossible. And Interpol has the authority to compel me to do so? And who are you? Her bodyguard? Who provided you this information? You cannot be serious. My dear, The Bishop is nothing more than a boogeyman story in the art world. It’s a catch-call concept. It’s someone to blame when you and your friends in law enforcement are too incompetent to solve the case. Already gone, you say? Now, if you’ll excuse me, Inspector, I believe I owe your supervisor a call. Of course we do. You’re wasting our time. What, may I ask, are you looking for? No, no, wait a moment. What do you think you’re doing?”
INTERPOL
“You don’t look like a profiler. It’s probably just an error in the thermal sensor.”
Museum Security
“He is here. Send reinforcements. He’s on the scaffolding. We’re gonna need more–“
Roman Pedestrian
“What the hell? Where are you going? Asshole! Where are you going?”
Roman Pedestrian 2
“What the hell? You idiot! You are blind?”
INTERPOL 2
“Door open.”
INTERPOL 3
“We have eyes on target.”
Prison Guard
“Back to your cell!”
Booth Recording
“I know where the third egg is. I swear to God.”
Prison Inmate
“Politsiya. You die.”
Prison Guard
“The captain wants to see you. Let’s go!”
Narrator
“Though many know the tragic love story of Antony and Cleopatra, the wayward Roman general who fell madly in love with the enchanting Egyptian queen, both of them taking their lives rather than face a world without each other, few know the secret story of the most sought-after prize and unsolved puzzle of their time. The mystery of Cleopatra’s third egg. On their wedding day, as a symbol of his undying devotion, Mark Antony presented Cleopatra with three bejeweled eggs, each one more exquisite than the last. For centuries, these eggs were through to be nothing more than myth, rumor. But then, in 1907, just outside of Cairo, a local farmer unearthed two of them. Some say the third egg was never found. Others claim it was discovered, but just as quickly lost, never to be seen again. Join us as we explore that very question. What happened to Cleopatra’s lost egg? Who may hold it in their possession? And most importantly, will we ever see the day in which all three eggs are reunited for the first time in over 2,000 years? Cleopatra’s first egg is on display for all to see at the world-famous Museo Nazionale di Castel Sant-Angelo in Rome. The second egg has been sold at auction numerous times and currently is held in a private collection.”
