For Love or Country: The Arturo Sandoval Story

That's enough!
Our comrades are losing
their lives in Angola.

You guys are thinking
about your little music.

Just about yourselves!
There's no time for that.

There are limits!
There are limits!
-Leave the cowboys alone.
-I never saw that picture before.

I don't care, this is dominoes.
-Pay attention to the game!
-One more coffee, please.

Wait, it's not your turn.
Gracias, Mama.
Your coffee is like a wake-up kiss
in the morning.

Cirita bonita, tan bella y sabrosita.
Tastes like the fourth time
through on these grounds.

You boys wanna play?
Maybe later, Papi.
This is going nowhere.
You heard Jaime?
They pull us out of venues.
They pull the equipment.

They won't ever do it.
We'll be so good they'll have to support us.
How are you gonna get 'em
to support a jazz band?

Never call it " jazz."
Don't ever even use the word.

They'll know. They'll hear it.
These guys, they're not musicians,
they're bureaucrats.

You're Cuban, I'm Cuban. Chucho's Cuban.
Whatever we play
is gonna be Cuban music.

We'll need some kind of camouflage,
you know?

Big ones.
-Up front.
-Up front!