House on Haunted Hill (1999)
Eddie: [to Price, holding up bloody rag] Look at this! Huh? What is this?
Pritchett: [turns around] That? What just happened to you there... that's nothing. You've just been playing around with a ghost. Wait 'til somebody lets out the Darkness in this place. That's a whole... that's a whole new bunch of crazy shit. That's... you'll hate that shit.
Pritchett: I lied. The house is alive. We're all gonna die.
Evelyn: [to Eddie] Get off me, you pervert!
Stephen Price: Congratulations. I don't think Evelyn's said that to anything with testicles, ever.
Evelyn: Very funny, Stephen. Have you?
[after Price receives a call]
Channel 3 Reporter: So, Mr. Price, business or pleasure?
Stephen Price: Neither. My wife.
Eddie: Oh, so then we'll just stay here 'til morning.
Pritchett: Oh, great. I'm sure we'll all be mutilated beyond recognition by then.
Evelyn: I gave you a goddamn guest list two pages long. Where the hell are they?
Stephen Price: Shredded. Sorry. Decided to whip up one of my own: a group so hungry for money they'd do anything. I thought you'd be more comfortable with your peers.
Eddie: What good is a million dollars when you're dead?
Pritchett: Price didn't make the list; the house did... 'Cause she's a vengeful, stupid whore!
Pritchett: [walking slowly to Sara] You don't... get it... do you? This house is pissed. It has no morals, 'cause it's a fucking *house*!
[hearing the screaming from another part of the house]
Evelyn: Guess old Melissa found what she was looking for.
Sara: I'm trying to figure out who or what Melissa was taping when she disappeared.
Eddie: Right. Then where will we be?
Pritchett: Out of Scotch thanks to you, ass!
[discussing Evelyn's birthday party plans over the phone]
Stephen Price: Congratulations. On a scale of one to ten on the perversity meter, you just hit a seventy-three.
Evelyn Stockard-Price: [Stephen H. Price is sneaking out of the room] : And where are you off to, Mr. Price? Checking the wiring on the animatronic mummies?
Steven H. Price: I'm just gonna go take a leak, if it's okay with you.
Pritchett: The house doesn't care what's fair, who lives or dies. Know why? 'Cause it's a fucking *house*!
Stephen Price: [after throwing a wrench and disengaging the lock-down] So much for a PhD in engineering.
Evelyn: Stephen, if you really love me, you'll find a way to drop dead in the next second.
Stephen Price: Oh, but baby, finding ways for me to die is really your thing. Let's not forget the O.J. knife with the not-so-retractable blade, the Jim Jones Kool-Aid, which was exactly that...
Evelyn: Accidents, all accidents until proven otherwise.
Stephen Price: Come on, honey, let's go down and meet your guests.
Evelyn: You go ahead, darling. I'm just going to run scolding hot water over the places you just touched me.
Pritchett: Jesus, she's dead. She was cute, too. God, I'd love to get laid before I die.
[looks at Evelyn]
Pritchett: How you doin' tonight?
[Evelyn gives him a glare]
Pritchett: Yeah, I'm all right.
[continues drinking heavily]
Stephen Price: [on his newest rollercoaster] Ever see one that starts at the top? 20 stories worth of top.
Sara: Is this house really haunted?
Pritchett: [near hysterics] It's uh, well, bleh... hah... yeah, it's pretty scary.
[Pritchett appears behind Sara and Eddie after they find a dead body]
Eddie: Holy shit!
Pritchett: Booga booga.
Evelyn: Who invited them?
Stephen Price: I don't know, it wasn't me and you say it wasn't you. Who then, Evelyn? Ghosts?
Evelyn: Ooh, spooky.
Peter Graves: Dr. Richard Benjamin Vannacutt. He out-butchered Bundy, made Manson look meek.
Eddie: [Eddie and Sara are atop a tall tower] That was one kickass party!
Sara: Okay, but one more thing: how do we get down from here?
Evelyn: You ever find out what happened to that little TV reporter?
Blackburn: No. They never found her.
Evelyn: So, we don't even know if the little bitch is dead or alive?
Blackburn: But I think Price must have killed her. There's no other explanation.
Evelyn: There's plenty, you moron. For all we know, Steven's got her spying on us right now.
Blackburn: Oh, bullshit.
Evelyn: Oh, God. This whole fucking thing's falling apart.
Blackburn: It's not, baby, it's not. Somebody's gonna pull the trigger.
Evelyn: But nobody has yet, Donald. They're not at the breaking point. The bozos have to believe that their lives are in danger.
Blackburn: They have your death at his hands. How much more do they need?
Evelyn: But they didn't see it happen. They still have their doubts, they're confused. What we need is another body. Steven's bloody hands right next to him.
Blackburn: Well, how the hell are we gonna do that?
Evelyn: [laughs] This may sound a little crazy, but hear me out.
[Evelyn brutally stabs Blackburn]
Eddie: I've never in my life met an executive who could tie their shoes, much less rewire an entire building.
Sara: There's always exceptions.
Eddie: No. Come on, what's the truth?
Sara: The truth is if we keep taking rights, we're going to have to end up where we started.
Evelyn: Oh, Steven, you poor clueless old geek. All it would have taken was a simple divorce and ripping our prenup into tiny itsy bitsy little pieces, but no matter how it ended, please just know one thing. From the first moment I laid eyes on you I have always, always loved... your money. On the other hand, just the sight of you has made me want to puke.
Stephen Price: [grabbing Evelyn by the throat, surprising her] Is that a fact, princess? I mean, you could have saved us all a great deal of time, not to mention money, if you'd have just let me in on it years ago.
Stephen Price: You must be kidding me. I'm Steven goddamn Price.
Evelyn: [trying to talk while Steven is choking her] Sweetie?
Stephen Price: Anything, angel. Just speak it.
Evelyn: What are you going to do?
Stephen Price: Just what you wanted everyone here to believe in the first place. I'm gonna murder you, Evelyn, with the greatest of pleasure.
Stephen Price: [grabbing her by her hair and pulling her up off the floor] You're already dead, Evelyn.
Stephen Price: Happy birthday, baby.
Stephen Price: Let's go down and greet your guests. Show them the real you: corny as Kansas on the Fourth of July.
Pritchett: Sorry to interrupt. Goddammit, you give me my goddamn check right now! 'Cause I want it! So you give it! Now! I'm serious.