Crash (I) (2004)
Anthony: Look around! You couldn't find a whiter, safer or better lit part of this city. But this white woman sees two black guys, who look like UCLA students, strolling down the sidewalk and her reaction is blind fear. I mean, look at us! Are we dressed like gang-bangers? Huh? No. Do we look threatening? No. Fact, if anybody should be scared around here, it's us: We're the only two black faces surrounded by a sea of over-caffeinated white people, patrolled by the triggerhappy LAPD. So you tell me, why aren't we scared?
Peter: Because we have guns?
Anthony: You could be right.
Graham: It's the sense of touch. In any real city, you walk, you know? You brush past people, people bump into you. In L.A., nobody touches you. We're always behind this metal and glass. I think we miss that touch so much, that we crash into each other, just so we can feel something.
Cameron: [to Anthony] Look at me. You embarrass me. You embarrass yourself.
Shereen: They think we're Arab. When did Persian become Arab?
Anthony: That waitress sized us up in two seconds. We're black and black people don't tip. So she wasn't gonna waste her time. Now somebody like that? Nothing you can do to change their mind.
Peter: So, uh... how much did you leave?
Anthony: You expect me to pay for that kind of service?
Jean: I want the locks changed again in the morning.
Rick: You what? Look, why don't you just go lie down, huh? Have you checked on James?
Jean: Well of course I've checked on James. I've checked on him every five minutes since we've been home. Do not patronize me. I want the locks changed again in the morning.
Rick: Shhh. It's ok. Just go to bed, all right?
Jean: [interrupting] You know what, didn't I just tell you not to treat me like a child?
Maria: I'm sorry Mrs. Jean. It's okay?... I go home now?
Rick: It's fine. Thank you very much for staying Maria.
Maria: You're welcome. No problem. Goodnight Mrs. Jean.
Jean: [Rudely] Goodnight.
Rick: [to Maria] We'll see you tomorrow.
Jean: I would like the locks changed again in the morning. And you know what, you might mention that next time we'd appreciate it if they didn't send a gang member...
Rick: A gang member?
Jean: Yes, yes.
Rick: What do you mean? That kid in there?
Jean: Yes. The guy in there with the shaved head, the pants around his ass, the prison tattoos.
Rick: Those are not prison tattoos.
Jean: [Interrupting] Oh really? And he's not gonna go sell our key to one of his gang banger friends the moment he is out our door?
Rick: You've had a really tough night. I think it would be best if you just went upstairs right now and...
Jean: [Interrupting] And what? Wait for them to break in?
Jean: [Yelling] I just had a gun pointed in my face!
Rick: [Agitated] You lower you voice!
Jean: [Yelling] ... and it was my fault because I knew it was gonna happen. But if a white person sees two black men walking towards her and she turns and walks in the other direction, she's a racist, right?
Jean: Well I got scared and I didn't say anything and ten seconds later I had a
[Jabbing her finger into Rick's chest]
Jean: gun in my face. Now I am telling you, your amigo in there is gonna sell our key to one of his homies and this time it'd be really fucking great if you acted like you actually gave a shit!
Graham: [on the phone] Mom, I can't talk to you right now, okay? I'm having sex with a white woman.
[hangs up, and Ria gets out of bed]
Graham: OK, where were we?
Ria: I was white, and you were about to jerk off in the shower.
Graham: Oh, shit. Come on. I would have said you were Mexican, but I don't think it would have pissed her off as much.
Ria: Why do you keep everybody a certain distance, huh? What, you start to feel something and panic?
Graham: Come on, Maria. You're just pissed 'cause I answered the phone.
Ria: That's just where I begin to get pissed. I mean, really, what kind of man speaks to his mother that way, huh?
Graham: Oh, this is about my mother. What do you know about my mother?
Ria: If I was your father, I'd kick your fucking ass.
Graham: OK, I was raised badly. Why don't you take your clothes off, get back into bed, and teach me a lesson?
Ria: You want a lesson? I'll give you a lesson. How 'bout a geography lesson? My father's from Puerto Rico. My mother's from El Salvador. Neither one of those is Mexico.
Graham: Ah. Well then I guess the big mystery is, who gathered all those remarkably different cultures together and taught them all how to park their cars on their lawns?
Jean: Do you want to hear something funny?
Maria: What's that Mrs. Jean?
Jean: You're the best friend I've got.
Flanagan: Fucking black people, huh?
Graham: What did you just say?
Flanagan: I mean, I know all the sociological reasons why, per capita eight times more black men are incarcerated than white men... Schools are a disgrace, lack of opportunity, bias in the judicial system, all that stuff... But still... but still, it's... it's gotta get to you, I mean, on a gut level, as a black man. They just can't keep their hands out of the cookie jar.
Rick: Fuck! Why do these guys have to be black? I mean, why? No matter how we spin this thing, I'm either gonna lose the black vote or I'm gonna lose the law and order vote!
Karen: You know, I think you're worrying too much. You have a lot of support in the black community.
Rick: All right. If we can't duck this thing, we're gonna have to neutralize it. What we need is a picture of me pinning a medal on a black man. Bruce? The firefighter - the one that saved the camp or something - Northridge... what's his name?
Bruce: He's Iraqi.
Rick: He's Iraqi? Well, he looks black.
Bruce: He's dark-skinned, sir, but he's Iraqi, his name's Saddam Hassif.
Rick: Saddam? His name's Saddam? Oh, that's real good, Bruce. Yeah, I'm gonna pin a medal on an Iraqi named Saddam. Give yourself a raise, will you?
Anthony: Listen to it man. Nigga this, Nigga that. You think white go around callin' each other "honky" all day, man? "Hey, honky, how's business?" "Going great, cracker, we're diversifying!"
Anthony: You could fill the Staple Center with what you don't know.
Peter: The Kings are playing tonight.
Anthony: You don't like hockey! Only reason you say you do is to piss me off!
Peter: ...I love hockey.
Lucien: You watch the Discovery Channel?
Anthony: Not a lot.
Peter: They got some good shit on that channel.
Lucien: Every night there is a show with somebody shining a little blue light and finding tiny specks of blood splattered on carpets and walls and ceiling fans, bathroom fixtures and special-edition plastic Burger King tray cups. The next thing they show is some stupid redneck in handcuffs who looks absolutely stunned that this is happening to him. Sometimes the redneck is actually WATCHING the Discovery Channel when they break in to arrest him. And he still can't figure out how on earth they could've caught him!
Lucien: Psst. Do I look like I wanna be on the Discovery Channel?
Lucien: Then get the fuck outta my shop.
Flanagan: Actually, we were thinking of you until we saw that. It's your brothers file. Twenty something years old and already three felonys. Three Strikes Law, the kid's going away for life for stealing a car. Christ, that's a shitty law. There's a warrant in there. But still, he had every opportunity you had. Fucking black people, huh?
Graham: So, uh... all I need to do to make this disappear is to frame a potentially innocent man.
Flanagan: What are you? The fucking Defender of All Things White? We're talking about a white that shot three black men and you're arguing with me, that maybe we're not being "fair" to him? You know, what? Maybe you're right. Maybe you're right. Maybe Lewis did provoke this. Maybe he got exactly what was coming to him. Or, maybe, stoned or not, being a black man in the valley was enough to get him killed. There was no one there to see who shot first, so there is no way way to know. Which means, we could get this wrong. Maybe that's what happened with your brother. Maybe we got it wrong. Maybe Lewis isn't the only one who deserves the benefit of the doubt. You're the one closest to all this. You need to tell us. What does your gut tell you?
Anthony: Get the fuck outta the car!
Cameron: You get the fuck outta the car!
Anthony: Get outta the fucking car!
Cameron: It's my fucking car!
Anthony: It's my fucking gun!
[Cameron grabs Anthony's gun]
Cameron: Fuck, it's my gun now!
Anthony: Gimme my fucking gun!
Anthony: You see any white people in there waiting an hour and thirty two minutes for a plate of spaghetti? Huh? And how many cups of coffee did we get?
Peter: You don't drink coffee and I didn't want any.
Anthony: That woman poured cup after cup to every single white person around us. Did she even ask you if you wanted any?
Peter: We didn't get any coffee that you didn't want and I didn't order, and this is evidence of racial discrimination? Did you happen to notice our waitress was black?
Anthony: And black women don't think in stereotypes? You tell me something man. When was the last time you met one who didn't think she knew everything about your lazy ass? Before you even open your mouth, huh?
Anthony: You wanna get killed, nigger?
Cameron: [punches him] Say that again, man. Call me nigger again.
Anthony: You stupid motherfucker.
Graham: Well, fuck you very much. But thanks for thinking of me.
Christine: I just couldn't stand to see that man take away your dignity.
Shaniqua: Ahh! Oh, my God. What the hell is wrong with you people? Uh-uh! Don't talk to me unless you speak American!
Anthony: [as he let go all the Asian people that are in the truck] Look, here's 40 bucks. Buy everybody chop suey. You understand?
[an Asian man takes the money and doesn't say anything as he leaves]
Anthony: Dopey fucking Chinaman.
Ria: Graham, I think we got rear ended. I think we spun around twice, and somewhere in there, one of us lost our frame of reference. And I'm going to look for it.
Gun Store Owner: Andy, get him out of here now!
Dorri: [to Farhad] Go, wait in the car.
Farhad: [to Gun Store Owner] You are ignorant man!
Gun Store Owner: I'm ignorant. You're liberating my country, and I'm flying seven four sevens into your mud huts and incinerating my friends. Get the fuck out of my store!
Anthony: [while Peter takes his St. Christopher out of the stolen Lincoln Navigator] Oh yeah, make sure you get that. Without him, things could've gone really fucking wrong tonight.
Lara: [referring to the impenetrable cloak] He doesn't have it!
Elizabeth: [confused] He doesn't have what?
Shaniqua: [talking on the phone] Mr. Ryan, your father has been to the clinic three times in the last month. He's been treated for a urinary tract infection that is by no means an emergency. Now, if you have any more questions about your HMO plan, why don't you make an appointment to come in between ten and four, Monday through Friday.
Officer Ryan: What does my father do about sleeping tonight?
Shaniqua: I don't know. I'm not a Doctor.
Officer Ryan: I wanna talk to your supervisor...
Shaniqua: I am my supervisor!
Officer Ryan: Yeah, what's your name?
Shaniqua: Shaniqua Johnson.
Officer Ryan: Shaniqua. Big fucking surprise that is!
[Shaniqua hangs up]
Anthony: No, no, no, take that voodoo-ass thing off of there right now!
Peter: I know you just didn't call St. Christopher voodoo. Man's the patron saint of travelers, dog.
Anthony: You had a conversation with God, huh? What did God say? Go forth, my son, and leave big slobbery suction rings on every dashboard you find? Why the hell do you do that?
Peter: Look at the way your crazy ass drive, then ask me that again!
[Peter notices a St. Christopher statue in Hanson's car and starts laughing]
Officer Hanson: Something else funny?
Peter: Oh, yeah.
Officer Hanson: Yeah? What's that?
Peter: People, man. People.
Officer Hanson: People like me?
Peter: No, no, no, no. I'm not laughin' at you, man.
Officer Hanson: I can see that. Why don't you laugh outside?
Peter: Why are you gettin' all bent outta shape?
Officer Hanson: I'm not gettin' bent, man. Just pulling over.
[Hanson pulls over his car to the side of the road]
Peter: Come on, man, keep drivin'. I said I'm not laughing at you.
Officer Hanson: And I'm not telling you to get the fuck out of my car.
Peter: Why you bein' a fucking jerk, man? Just drive the car.
Officer Hanson: I've got a better idea. Get out now.
Peter: Fine. You want me to show you? I'll show you.
[Peter puts his hand in his pocket]
Officer Hanson: Get your hands out of your pocket. Put your hands where I can see 'em!
Peter: Who the fuck you think you're talkin' to?
Officer Hanson: Put your hands where I can see them!
Peter: You wanna see what's in my hands? Here, I'll show you what's in my fuckin' hands!
[Peter puts his hands back in his pocket, Hanson takes his gun and shoots Peter. As Peter dies, his hands open up to reveal a St. Christopher statue]
Lara: How far can bullets go?
Daniel: They go pretty far but they usually get stuck in something and stop.
Lara: What if they don't?
Daniel: Are you thinking about that bullet that came through your window?
Daniel: She had these little stubby wings, like she could've glued them on, you know, like I'm gonna believe she's a fairy. So she said, "I'll prove it." So she reaches into her backpack and she pulls out this invisible cloak and she ties it around my neck. And she tells me that it's impenetrable. You know what impenetrable means? It means nothing can go through it. No bullets, nothing. She told me that if I wore it, nothing would hurt me. So I did. And my whole life, I never got shot, stabbed, nothing. I mean, how weird is that?
Graham: I swear to you, Mom. I'll find whoever killed him.
Graham's Mother: Oh, I already know who killed him. You did. I asked you to find your brother, but you were too busy for us. We weren't much good to you anymore, were we? You got things to do. You go ahead. I'll sign the papers.
Cameron: I mean, sooner or later, you gotta find out what it's really like to be black.
Christine: Oh, fuck you man! Like you'd know! The closest you ever came to being black, Cameron, was watching "The Cosby Show".
Cameron: Yeah, well, at least I wasn't watching it with the rest of the equestrian team.
Motorcycle Cop: Calm down, ma'am.
Kim Lee: I am calm.
Motorcycle Cop: I need to see your registration and insurance.
Kim Lee: Why? Not my fault! It's her fault! She do this!
Ria: [approaching] My fault?
Motorcycle Cop: Ma'am, you really need to wait in your vehicle.
Ria: [appraoching] My fault?
Kim Lee: Stop in the middle of street! Mexicans! No know how to drive! She blake too fast!
Ria: I "blake" too fast? I "blake" too fast? I'm sorry, you no see my "blake lights"?
Motorcycle Cop: [to Ria] Ma'am...
Ria: [to Kim Lee] See, I stop when I see long line of cars stop in front of me. Maybe you see over steering wheel, you "blake" too.
Motorcycle Cop: [to Ria] Ma'am...
Ria: Officer, can you please write down in your report how shocked I am to be hit by an Asian driver?
Cop At Scene: Hey, Detective. Nice entrance.
Graham: Fuck you.
[to Detective Carr]
Detective Carr: You okay?
Graham: I'm freezing.
Detective Carr: Shit. I heard it might snow.
Graham: Get outta here.
Detective Carr: That's what I heard.
Graham: You got a smoke?
Detective Carr: Nah, quit.
Graham: Yeah, me, too. What have you got?
Detective Carr: Dead kid.
Graham: That is a nice gun.
Ria: Well, the car is registered to a Cindy Bradley. And that's not Cindy. That is a William Lewis.
[hands him a wallet]
Ria: Found under the front seat. Hollywood Division.
Graham: Looks like Detective Conklin shot himself the wrong nigga.
Christine: [to Cameron] Fuck you, Cameron!
Christine: And you, keep your filthy fuckin' hands off me! Ow! You fucking pig!
Cameron: Christine, just stop taking.
Officer Ryan: [to Christine] That's quite a mouth you have.
Officer Ryan: Course, you know that.
Christine: Fuck you! That's what this is all about, isn't it? You thought you saw a white woman blowing a black man, and that just drove your little cracker ass crazy!
Cameron: Christine, shut your fuckin' mouth!
Officer Ryan: I'd listen to your husband, Ma'am. Put your legs open. Now, do you have any guns or knives or anything I might get stuck with?
Flanagan: The D.A's squad loses its lead investigator next month. Rick is quite adamant that his replacement be a person of color. It's a high profile position, and he wants to send the right message to the community.
Graham: And the right message is look at this Black Boy I bought?
Gun Store Owner: Yo, Osama, plan a jihad on your own time. What do you want?
Officer Ryan: You know, you don't like me, that's fine, I'm a prick, my father doesn't deserve to suffer like this, he was a janitor, struggled his whole life, saved enough to start his own company, twenty three employees, all of them black, paid them equal wages when no one else was doing that, for thirty years he worked side by side with those men sweeping and carrying garbage, then the city council decides to give to minority owned companies preference to city contracts and overnight my father loses everything, his business, his home, his wife, everything, not once does he blame your people, now I'm not asking to help me, I'm asking you to do this small thing for a man who lost everything, so people like you can reap the benefits, and do you know what's its going to cost you? Nothing, just a flick of your pen.
Officer Hanson: Radio cheque two one L two three.
Officer #1: Two one L two three. I'm hearing strange noises from your car.
Officer #2: Likewise, twenty one, L. Is your mic open by any chance?
Officer Ryan: [approaching the bathroom] Hey, Pop, are you OK?
Pop Ryan: [sitting on the bowl] If I could piss, I'd be OK.
Cameron: [after Christine's been molested] Who are you calling?
Christine: I'm gonna report their asses, sons of bitches.
Christine: No, what I need is a husband who will not just stand there, while I'm being molested.
Christine: That's good. A little anger. It's a bit late, but it's nice to see.
Officer Hanson: Hey. Maybe they didn't tell you, but I've been reassigned.
Officer Ryan: Yeah, they told me. I just wanted to say good luck and it was good riding with you.
Officer Hanson: You too.
Officer Ryan: Wait 'till you've been on the job a few more years. Look at me.
Officer Hanson: Yeah.
Officer Ryan: Look at me. Wait 'till you've been doing it a little longer.
Graham's Mother: Did you find your brother?
Graham: No, Ma.
Graham's Mother: Tell him to come home. Tell him I'm not mad, okay? Okay, baby?