(no subject)
Everyone should see Grosse Pointe Blank on just these quotes alone. Little back story so you understand them better. Martin Blank is a professional assassin. He is sent on a mission to a small Detroit suburb, Grosse Pointe, and, by coincidence, his ten-year high school reunion party is taking place there at the same time. The love of his life Debi he dissapeared on ten years ago is also in Grosse Pointe, and Martin wants her back.
Mr. Grocer: [singing] I'll be comin' around the mountain when I come / I'll be comin' around the mountain when I come / I'll be blowin' your fuckin' head off / I'll be blowin' your fuckin' head off / I'll be whackin' your fuckin' mind out when I come.
Marcella: Sir, I'm really beginning to worry about your safety.
Marty: Look, I got to go.
Marcella: Yeah, we all got to go sometime, sir, but we can choose when.
Marty: No one chooses when.
Martin Q. Blank: Do you *really* believe that there's some stored up conflict that exists between us? There *is* no us. *We* don't exist. So who do you wanna hit, man? It's not me. Now whaddya wanna do here, man?
Bob: [Pulls out a folded up piece of paper]
Martin Q. Blank: I don't know what that is.
Bob: These are my words.
Martin Q. Blank: It's a poem? See, that's the problem... express yourself, Bob! Go for it.
Bob: "When I feel... quiet... when... I feel... blue..."
Martin Q. Blank: You know, I think that is *terrific*, what you have right there. Really, I liked it, a lot. I wouldn't sell the dealership or anything but, I'm tellin' ya... it's intense!
Bob: There's... more.
Martin Q. Blank: Okay, would ya mind, just skip to the end.
Bob: To... the very end? "For a while."
Martin Q. Blank: Whew. That's good man.
Bob: "For a while."
Martin Q. Blank: That's excellent!
Bob: You wanna do some blow?
Martin Q. Blank: No I don't.
Bob: [Hugs Martin]
Debi: Where are all the good men dead, in the heart or in the head?
Marty: I was sitting there alone on prom night, in a goddamn rented tuxedo, and my whole life flashed before my eyes. And I realized finally, and for the first time, that I wanted to kill somebody. So I figured since I loved you so much, it'd be a good idea if I didn't see you anymore.
[We hear a car pulling in]
Marty: They're right behind us. So I was in the Gulf last year, I was doing this thing anyway. And I came up over this dune, and I saw the ocean... and it was on fire. The whole thing, on fire, and it was beautiful. So I just sat there and watched it, and that's when I realized there might be a meaning to life, you know, like an organic power that connects all living things, God, Jahwe, I dunno.
[Marty shoots two rounds through the door, taking out the thug behind it]
Marcella: You can take care of business and stop by Grosse Pointe for your reunion...
Marty: Look, Sgt. Pepper, I really need you to shut up about that.
Marcella: Sir, it's out of my hands. The gods want you to go back home and they want to delete someone while you're there.
Mr. Grocer: After we do your job, we're gonna do another job.
Marty: Tell me about it.
Mr. Grocer: Like I'm gonna put a bullet hole in your fuckin' forehead, and I'm gonna fuck the brain hole!
Martin Q. Blank: [Leaving a message on Dr. Oatman's machine] Dr. Oatman, please pick up, pick up! It's Martin Blank! I, I'm standing where my, uh, living room was and it's not here because my house is gone and it's an Ultimart! You can never go home again, Oatman... but I guess you can shop there.
Marty: If I show up at your door, chances are you did something to bring me there.
Waitress: What do you want in your omelette, sir?
Marty: Nothing in the omelette, nothing at all.
Waitress: Well, that's not technically an omelette.
Marty: Look, I don't want to get into a semantic argument, I just want the protein.
Debi: You know what you need?
Marty: What?
Debi: Shakabuku.
Marty: You wanna tell me what that means?
Debi: It's a swift, spiritual kick to the head that alters your reality forever.
Marty: Oh, that'd be good. I think.
Debi: You're a psychopath.
Marty: No, no. Psychopaths kill for no reason. I kill for *money*. It's a *job*. That didn't come out right.
Marcella: You know, when you started getting invited to your ten year high school reunion, time is catching up.
Martin Q. Blank: Are you talking about a sense of my own mortality or a fear of death?
Marcella: Well, I never really thought about it quite like that.
Martin Q. Blank: Did you go to yours?
Marcella: Yes, I did. It was just as if everyone had swelled.
[Talking to his psychiatrist about going to his high school reunion]
Marty: They all have husbands and wives and children and houses and dogs, and, you know, they've all made themselves a part of something and they can talk about what they do. What am I gonna say? "I killed the president of Paraguay with a fork. How've you been?"
Marty: I was hired to kill you. But I'm not going to. It's either because I'm in love with your daughter or I have a newfound respect for life.
[In pursuing car]
Mr. Grocer: That punk's either in love with that guy's daughter or he's got a newfound respect for life.
Marty: Oatman? Don't hang up. Listen, I didn't kill anyone - except some guy tried to kill me, so if I see that guy again, I'm definitely gonna kill him, but I'm not going to kill anybody else. I'm on my way to the reunion now with Debi, but I'm just a little nervous, and I'd like to do a phoner.
Dr. Oatman: O.K., repeat after me. "I am at home with the me. I am rooted in the me who is on this adventure."
Marty: I am at home with the me, I am rooted in the me who is on this adventure.
Dr. Oatman: Good. Now take a deep breath, and realize that this is me breathing.
Marty: Wait, I'm confused. Do you want me to say it or do you want me to realize it?
Dr. Oatman: What?
Marty: About the breathing.
Dr. Oatman: Say it.
Marty: This is me breathing.
Dr. Oatman: Good, now keep doing that for about twenty minutes.
Marty: Listen, I got to go.
Dr. Oatman: O.K. Keep it up. Don't kill anybody.
Marty: Right!
Arlene: [about the nametags she's made for the reunion] I had the yearbook pictures put on so everybody knows who everybody was!
Martin Q. Blank: A special torture!
Debi: You're a fucking *psycho*.
Marty: Don't rush to judgment on something like that until all the facts are in.
Ken McCullard: I do divorce mainly, some property, some personal injury.
Marty: They all seem kinda related.
Marty: What about those two guys in a Caprice Classic outside? The word is you turned two Governments on me, you turncoat.
Mr. Grocer: Me?
Marty: You.
Mr. Grocer: Go G?
Marty: Yes.
Mr. Grocer: On you?
Marty: Yes.
Mr. Grocer: Never.
Mr. Grocer: [Marty and Grocer are shooting eachother] Comrade! Comrade!
Marty: What?
Mr. Grocer: Why don't you just join the union, we'll go upstairs together and cap daddy!
Marty: This union, there's gonna be meetings?
Mr. Grocer: Of course!
Marty: No meetings.
[They continue shooting]
Marty: I'm sorry if I fucked up your life.
Debi: It's not over yet.
Practicing in a mirror before his high school reunion]
Marty: Hi. I'm, uh, I'm a pet psychiatrist. I sell couch insurance. Mm-hmm, and I - and I test-market positive thinking. I lead a weekend men's group, we specialize in ritual killings. Yeah, you look great! God, yeah! Hi, how are you? Hi, how are you? Hi, I'm Martin Blank, you remember me? I'm not married, I don't have any kids, and I'd blow your head off if someone paid me enough.
Mary Blank: You're a handsome devil. What's your name?
Go out and see that shit.