Westworld (1973) Poster



Peter Martin: You talk too much.

Robot Gunslinger: You say something, boy?

Peter Martin: I said you talk too much.

Robot Gunslinger: Try to make me shut up.

John Blane: [surprised] I'm shot

Peter Martin: [in disbelief] What?

John Blane: I... I'm shot!

[falls to the ground]

Robot Gunslinger: [to Peter Martin, trying to provoke a fight] Sloppy with your drink?

[Martin tries to ignore him, unsure of how to react]

Robot Gunslinger: [to the bartender] Get this boy a bib!

[last lines]

Interviewer of Delos Guests: [voiceover] Why don't you make arrangements to take our hovercraft to Medieval World, Roman World and Westworld. Contact us today, or see your travel agent. Boy, have we got a vacation for you.

Chief Supervisor: We aren't dealing with ordinary machines here. These are highly complicated pieces of equipment.

Chief Supervisor: Almost as complicated as living organisms. In some cases, they have been designed by other computers. We don't know exactly how they work.

[first lines]

Interviewer of Delos Guests: [hosting a commercial] Hi. Ed Ramsey from Delos. If there's anyone who doesn't know what Delos is, well, as we've always said: Delos is the vacation of the future, today. At Delos, you get your choice of the vacation you want. There's Medieval World, Roman World and, of course, Westworld. Let's talk to some of the people who've been there.

Banker: [taking over as the new sheriff] Well, I'm the new law around here...

Villager: [yells from crowd] Think you can handle things?

Banker: You wanna try me?

[he turns around to enter the sheriff's office, but struggles to get the door open]

Chief Supervisor: Doesn't anything work around here?

Chief Supervisor: Shut down! Shut down immediately!

John Blane: [after Being Bitten By A Robotic Snake] The hell, god dammit, that's not supposed to happen!

John Blane: There's no way to get hurt in here, just enjoy yourself.

Black Knight: [as the guest picks up a piece of leftovers from one of the banquet hall tables] Hold varlet!

Medieval Knight: Are you speaking to me?

Black Knight: None other, sire.

Medieval Knight: Look, I'm hungry and I...

Black Knight: [impatiently swiping the guest's helmet off the table with his broadsword, then pointing the sword menacingly at the guest] Prepare for thy doom, thou scurrilous knave, huh?

Medieval Knight: [backing up] Now, wait a minute. Ah, uh, can't we talk this over?

Black Knight: What? Have you no spine, varlet?

Medieval Knight: Well, I...

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