Fletcher Reede, a fast talking attorney, habitual liar, and divorced father is an incredibly successful lawyer who has built his career by lying. He has a habit of giving precedence to his job and always breaking promises to be with his favorite young son Max, but Fletcher lets Max down once too often, for missing his own son's birthday party. But until then at 8:15 Max has decided to make an honest man out of him as he wishes for one whole day his dad couldn't tell a lie. When the wish comes true all Fletcher can do is tell the truth and cannot tell one lie. Uh-oh for Fletcher! Written by
Anthony Pereyra <email@example.com>
When Fletcher calls Mrs. Cole to the stand to testify, she is not sworn in. This does not discount the possibility that a previous hearing in the court allowed her to be sworn in, which means that, by law, the same swearing in as earlier still applies. See more »
What's Up, Fletcher?
Your cholesterol, Fatty! Dead man walkin'!
Hey! You're not important enough to remember!
What'll it be, Fletcher?
A pock mark, eventually!
Don't ask! For God sake, don't ask!
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I loved this movie, it's so funny :D one of the best comedy movies ever!!! It has (like many movies) a message, that it's best to tell the truth, but above all it was very funny. My favorite scene was:
About Mr. Allen
Miranda: Well, what do you think of him? Fletcher: He's a pedantic, pontificating, pretentious bastard, a belligerent old fart, a worthless steaming pile of cow dung, figuratively speaking. a moment passes and Mr. Allen starts laughing. The other board members follow his lead and start laughing also] Mr. Allen: That's the funniest damn thing I have ever heard. You're a real card, Reede. I love a good roast. Do Simmons. Fletcher: Simmons is old. He should have been out of the game years ago but he can't stay home because he hates his wife. You have met her at the Christmas parties, she's the one that gets plastered and calls him a retard, and you, Tom; you're the biggest brown nose I have ever seen. You have got your head so far up Mr. Allen's ass, I can't tell where you end and he begins. Mr. Allen: *roaring with laughter* Priceless! *Fletcher continues with every member* Fletcher: You have bad breath caused by gingivitis. You couldn't get a porn star off. Your hairpiece looks like something that was killed crossing the highway. I don't know whether to comb it or scrape it off with a shovel and bury it in lime. Loser! Idiot! Wimp! Degenerate! *Slut*! Mr. Allen: I like your style, Reede! That's just what this stuffy company needs - a little irreverence! Fletcher: Good! I'll see you later, dick-head!
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