Midnight in Paris (2011)
Man Ray: A man in love with a woman from a different era. I see a photograph!
Luis Buñuel: I see a film!
Gil: I see insurmountable problem!
Salvador Dalí: I see rhinoceros!
Gil: Would you read it?
Ernest Hemingway: Your novel?
Gil: Yeah, it's about 400 pages long, and I'm just looking for an opinion.
Ernest Hemingway: My opinion is I hate it.
Gil: Well you haven't even read it yet.
Ernest Hemingway: If it's bad, I'll hate it because I hate bad writing, and if it's good, I'll be envious and hate all the more. You don't want the opinion of another writer.
Paul: Nostalgia is denial - denial of the painful present... the name for this denial is golden age thinking - the erroneous notion that a different time period is better than the one one's living in - it's a flaw in the romantic imagination of those people who find it difficult to cope with the present.
Gertrude Stein: We all fear death and question our place in the universe. The artist's job is not to succumb to despair, but to find an antidote for the emptiness of existence.
Ernest Hemingway: I believe that love that is true and real, creates a respite from death. All cowardice comes from not loving or not loving well, which is the same thing. And then the man who is brave and true looks death squarely in the face, like some rhino-hunters I know or Belmonte, who is truly brave... It is because they make love with sufficient passion, to push death out of their minds... until it returns, as it does, to all men... and then you must make really good love again.
Ernest Hemingway: No subject is terrible if the story is true, if the prose is clean and honest, and if it affirms courage and grace under pressure.
Gil: That's what the present is. It's a little unsatisfying because life is unsatisfying.
Adriana: I can never decide whether Paris is more beautiful by day or by night.
Gil: No, you can't, you couldn't pick one. I mean I can give you a checkmate argument for each side. You know, I sometimes think, how is anyone ever gonna come up with a book, or a painting, or a symphony, or a sculpture that can compete with a great city. You can't. Because you look around and every street, every boulevard, is its own special art form and when you think that in the cold, violent, meaningless universe that Paris exists, these lights, I mean come on, there's nothing happening on Jupiter or Neptune, but from way out in space you can see these lights, the cafés, people drinking and singing. For all we know, Paris is the hottest spot in the universe.
Gil: These people don't have any antibiotics!
Adriana: What are you talking about?
Gil: Adriana, if you stay here though, and this becomes your present then pretty soon you'll start imagining another time was really your... You know, was really the golden time. Yeah, that's what the present is. It's a little unsatisfying because life's a little unsatisfying.
Adriana: That's the problem with writers. You are so full of words.
Ernest Hemingway: Picasso only thinks that women are to sleep with, or to paint.
Adriana: That Paris exists and anyone could choose to live anywhere else in the world will always be a mystery to me.
Gil: Gil Pender.
Ernest Hemingway: Hemingway.
Ernest Hemingway: You liked my book?
Gil: Liked? I loved all of your work.
Ernest Hemingway: Yes. It was a good book because it was an honest book, and that's what war does to men. And there's nothing fine and noble about dying in the mud unless you die gracefully. And then it's not only noble but brave.
Gertrude Stein: The artist's job is not to succumb to despair but to find an antidote for the emptiness of existence.
Helen: We saw a wonderfully funny American film last night.
Inez: Who was in it?
Helen: Oh, I don't know. I forget the name.
Gil: Wonderful but forgettable. It sounds like a film I've seen. I probably wrote it.
Gil: Hi Mr. Hemingway.
Ernest Hemingway: The assignment was to take the hill. There were four of us, five if you counted Vicente, but he had lost his hand when a grenade went off and couldn't fight as could when I first met him. And he was young and brave, and the hill was soggy from days of rain. And it sloped down toward a road and there were many German soldiers on the road. And the idea was to aim for the first group, and if our aim was true we could delay them.
Gil: Were you scared?
Ernest Hemingway: Of what?
Gil: Of getting killed.
Ernest Hemingway: You'll never write well if you fear dying. Do you?
Gil: Yeah, I do. I'd say probably, might be my greatest fear actually.
Ernest Hemingway: It's something all men before you have done, all men will do.
Gil: I know, I know.
Ernest Hemingway: Have you ever made love to a truly great woman?
Gil: Actually, my fiancé is pretty sexy.
Ernest Hemingway: And when you make love to her you feel true and beautiful passion. And you for at least that moment lose your fear of death.
Gil: No, that doesn't happen.
Ernest Hemingway: I believe that love that is true and real creates a respite from death. All cowardice comes from not loving, or not loving well, which is the same thing. And when the man who is brave and true looks death squarely in the face like some rhino hunters I know, or Belmonte, who's truly brave. It is because they love with sufficient passion to push death out of their minds, until the return that it does to all men. And then you must make really good love again. Think about it.
Inez: You always take the side of the help. That's why Daddy says you're a communist.
Gil: You can fool me, but you cannot fool Ernest Hemingway!
Gil: I'm jealous and I'm trusting. It's cognitive dissonance. F. Scott Fitzgerald talked about it.
Ernest Hemingway: If you're a writer,
[slams fist on table]
Ernest Hemingway: declare yourself the best writer. But your not, as long as I'm around, unless you want to put the gloves on and settle it.
Gertrude Stein: Hemingway did have one plot suggestion - he doesn't quite believe that the protagonist doesn't see that his fiancée is having an affair right before his eyes
Paul: Sex and alcohol. Fuels the desire kills the performance, according to the Bard.
Gil: You're very kind, but I wouldn't call my babbling poetic. Although I was on a pretty good roll there.
Gil: Thomas Stearns Eliot? T.S. Eliot? T.S. Eliot? Prufrock is like my mantra.
Gil: This is unbelievable! Look at this! There's no city like this in the world. There never was.
Inez: You act like you've never been here before.
Gil: I don't get here often enough, that's the problem. Can you picture how drop dead gorgeous this city is in the rain? Imagine this town in the '20s. Paris in the '20s, in the rain. The artists and writers!
Inez: Why does every city have to be in the rain? What's wonderful about getting wet?
Gil: 500 francs for a Matisse? Yeah I think that sounds fair! You know, I wonder if actually I can pick up 6 or 7?
Adriana: Let's go!
Ernest Hemingway: One of these days I plan to steal you away from this genius
[points to Picasso]
Ernest Hemingway: who's great... But... he's no Miro.
Gil: It's understated but elegant. That's what you always say.
Helen: Cheap is cheap. That's what I always say.
Gil: I'm a huge Mark Twain fan. I think you can make the case that all modern American literature comes from Huckleberry Finn.
Ernest Hemingway: Do you box?
Gil: No. Well... Not really, no.
Ernest Hemingway: You'll never be a great writer if you fear dying, do you?
Gil: Yeah, I do. I would say it's my greatest fear.
Adriana: Well, good luck with your book and your wedding
Gil: Thanks, I think you would like Inez she has a, a very sharp sense of humour and attractive, I wouldn't say that we agree on everything
Adriana: But the important things
Gil: Yeah, or actually maybe the small things, sometimes there is a little bit of a disconnect with the big things. She wants to live in Malibu and wants me to work in Hollywood... but i will say that we both like Indian food, not all Indian food, but the pita bread, we both like pita bread, I guess its called naan
Gil: You know how I think better in the shower, get all those positive ions flowing.
Ernest Hemingway: I think a woman is equal to a man in courage. Have you ever shot a charging lion?
Ernest Hemingway: Would you like to know how that feels?
Adriana: I don't think so.
Ernest Hemingway: You ever hunted?
Ernest Hemingway: You?
Gil: Only for bargains.
Gil: They are your friends and I have to admit I'm not quite as taken with them as you are.
Gil: She's right, I recently read a two-volume biography of Rodin, and Rose was the wife, Camille the mistress.
Adriana: I'm from the '20s, and I'm telling you the golden age is la Belle Epoque.
Gabrielle: By the way, my name is Gabrielle.
Gil: I'm Gil, nice to meet you. It's a pretty name.
Gil: He's a pseudo-intellectual. Just a little bit.
Inez: Ah, Gil, I hardly think he'd be lecturing at the Sorbonne if he's a pseudo-intellectual.
Gil: I'm having trouble because I'm a Hollywood hack who never gave real literature a shot.
Gil: What is it with this city? I need to write a letter to the Chamber of Commerce.
Gil: That was Djuna Barnes? No wonder she wanted to lead.
Gertrude Stein: You have a clear and lovely voice. Don't be such a defeatist.
Gil: Wow! Didn't take Gauguin long to start steaming in.