Notting Hill (1999)
Hugh Grant: William Thacker
P.R. Chief : Next question? Yes. You in the pink shirt.
William : Uh, right. Miss Scott, are there any circumstances that you and he might be more than just friends.
Anna Scott : I hoped that there would be but I've been assured that there's not.
William : Yes, but what if...
P.R. Chief : I'm sorry. Just the one question.
Anna Scott : No. It's alright. You were saying?
William : I was just wondering what if this person...
Journalist : Thacker. His name is Thacker.
William : Right. Thanks. What if, uh, Mr. Thacker realized that he had been a daft prick and got down on his knees and begged you to reconsider if you would... indeed... reconsider.
Anna Scott : [pause] Yes. I believe I would.
William : That's wonderful news. The readers of Horse and Hound will be relieved.
[who will get the last brownie?]
Anna Scott : Wait, what about me?
Max : Sorry, you think *you* deserve the brownie?
Anna Scott : Well a shot at it at least huh?
William : Well, you'll have to fight me for it, this is a very good brownie.
Anna Scott : I've been on a diet every day since I was nineteen, which basically means I've been hungry for a decade. I've had a series of not nice boyfriends, one of whom hit me. Ah, and every time I get my heart broken, the newspapers splash it about as though it's entertainment. And it's taken two rather painful operations to get me looking like this.
Honey : Really?
Anna Scott : Really. And, one day not long from now, my looks will go, they will discover I can't act and I will become some sad middle-aged woman who looks a bit like someone who was famous for a while.
Max : [long pause] Nah, nice try gorgeous, but you don't fool anyone.
William : Pathetic effort to hog the brownie.
Anna Scott : Rita Hayworth used to say, "They go to bed with Gilda; they wake up with me."
William : Who's Gilda?
Anna Scott : Her most famous part. Men went to bed with the dream; they didn't like it when they would wake up with the reality. Do you feel that way?
William : You are lovelier this morning than you have ever been.
Bernie : But she said she wanted to go out with you?
William : Yes - sort of...
Bernie : That's nice.
William : What?
Bernie : Well, you know, anybody saying they want to go out with you is... pretty great... isn't it...?
William : It was sort of sweet actually - I mean, I know she's an actress and all that, so she can deliver a line - but she said that she might be as famous as can be - but also... that she was just a girl, standing in front of a boy, asking him to love her.
William : Oh, sod a dog. I've made the wrong decision, haven't I?
William : Whoopsidaisies!
Anna Scott : What did you say?
William : Nothing.
Anna Scott : Yes you did.
William : No I didn't.
Anna Scott : You said "whoopsidaisies".
William : I don't think so. No one says "whoopsidaisies" do they? Unless they're...
Anna Scott : There *is* no "unless." No one has said "whoopsidaisies" for fifty years and even then it was only little girls with blonde ringlets.
William : Exactly. Here we go again.
[He falls off the fence again]
William : Whoopsidaisies. It's a disease I've got. It's a clinical thing. I'm taking pills and having injections. It won't last long.
Anna Scott : I can't believe you have that picture on your wall.
William : You like Chagall?
Anna Scott : I do. It feels like how being in love should be. Floating through a dark blue sky.
William : With a goat playing the violin.
Anna Scott : Yes - happiness isn't happiness without a violin-playing goat.
Keziah : No thanks, I'm a fruitarian.
Max : I didn't realize that.
William : And, ahm: what exactly is a fruitarian?
Keziah : We believe that fruits and vegetables have feelings, so we think cooking is cruel. We only eat things that have already fallen off a tree or bush - that are, in fact, dead already.
William : Oh, all right. Interesting stuff. So, these carrots...
Keziah : Have been murdered, yes.
William : Murdered? Poor carrots. How beastly!
Bella : Which way are you going?
Max : Down Kensington Church Street, then Knightsbridge, then Hyde Park Corner.
Bella : No, crazy, crazy. Go along Bayswater.
Honey : That's right. Then Park Lane.
Bernie : No, straight down to the Cromwell Road, then left.
Max : [they continue arguing about the best routes to the Ritz, Max finally has enough and screeches to a halt] Stop right there! I will decide the route. All right?
William : Sorry Max.
Honey : Sorry Max.
Max : James Bond never has to put up with this sort of shit.
William : It's as if I've taken love heroin, and now I can't ever have it again.
William : The thing is, with you I'm in real danger. It seems like a perfect situation, apart from that foul temper of yours, but my relatively inexperienced heart would I fear not recover if I was, once again, cast aside as I would absolutely expect to be. There's just too many pictures of you, too many films. You know, you'd go and I'd be... uh, well buggered basically.
William : Would you like a cup of tea before you go?
Anna Scott : No.
William : Orange juice? No, probably not... something else cold? Coke? Water? Some disgusting sugary drink pretending to have something to do with fruits of the forest?
Anna Scott : No.
William : Do you... always say no to everything?
Anna Scott : [thinks] No.
Spike : Just going to the kitchen to get some food, then I'm going to tell you a story that will make your balls shrink to the size of raisins.
[leaves corridor for kitchen]
Anna Scott : Probably best not tell anyone about this.
William : Right, no one. I mean, I'll tell myself sometimes but - don't worry - I won't believe it.
William : [leaving the restaurant after challenging the loud guys] I'm sorry.
Anna Scott : No, I love that you tried. Time was I'd have done the same thing. In fact...
[turns back and walks up to the loud table]
Anna Scott : Hi.
Loud Man in Restaurant : Oh. My. God.
Anna Scott : I just wanted to apologize for my friend - he's very sensitive.
Loud Man in Restaurant : No, I mean...
Anna Scott : No, leave it. I'm sure you didn't mean any harm, I'm sure it was just friendly banter, I'm sure you guys have dicks the size of peanuts. Enjoy your dinner, the tuna's really good.
Anna Scott : What is it about men and nudity? Particularly breasts? How can you be so interested in them?
William : Well...
Anna Scott : But, but, seriously: they're just breasts. Every second person in the world has them.
William : Oh, more than that, when you think about it: you know, Meat Loaf has a very nice pair.
Anna Scott : [laughs] But they're... they're odd looking, they're for milk, your mother has them, you've seen a thousand of them... What's all the fuss about?
William : Actually, I can't think of what it is, really. Let me just have a quick look...
[peeks under blanket]
William : No, no, beats me.
William : Would you like something to eat? Something to nibble? Apricots, soaked in honey? Quite why, no one knows, because it stops them tasting like apricots and makes them taste like honey... and if you wanted honey, you could just... buy honey. Instead of apricots. But nevertheless they're yours if you want them.
Anna Scott : What do you think?
William : Gripping. It's not Jane Austen, it's not Henry James but it's gripping.
Anna Scott : You think I should do Henry James?
William : I think you'd be wonderful in Henry James but this writer - writers, they're pretty good too.
Anna Scott : You never get anyone in "Wings of a Dove" saying "Inform the Pentagon we need black star cover!"
William : And for me the book is the poorer for it.
Anna Scott : What's so annoying is now I'm so totally fierce when it comes to nudity clauses.
William : You have clauses in your contract?
Anna Scott : Yeah. "you may show the dent at the top of the artist's buttocks, but neither cheek or if a stunt bottom is being used, artists must have full consultation".
William : You have a stunt bottom?
Anna Scott : I *could* have a stunt bottom, yes.
William : Are people tempted to go for better bottoms than their own?
Anna Scott : Well yeah, I would. This is important stuff.
William : Hell of a thing to put on your passport, Occupation "Mel Gibson's bottom"
Anna Scott : Actually Mel does his own ass work. Well why wouldn't he.
Martin : Did you know, and this is pretty amazing, but I once saw Ringo Starr.
William : Where was that?
Martin : Kensington High Street. At least I think it was Ringo, um, it could have been that guy from Fiddler on the Roof. You know, Toppy.
William : Topol.
William : Yes... yes that's right, Topol.
William : Mmmhmmm. Actually, Ringo Starr doesn't- doesn't at all look like, uh, Topol.
Martin : Yes, but, he was- he was quite a long way away from me.
William : So it actually could've been neither of them.
Martin : Yes, I suppose, so.
William : It's not really a classic, anecdote, is it?
Martin : Not a classic, no.
William : [Spike is wearing Will's wetsuit] Can I ask you why you are wearing that?
Spike : Combination of factors. No clean clothes.
William : There never will be unless you actually *clean* your clothes.
Spike : Vicious circle. And I was rooting around in your things and found this and thought groovy. Kind of... spacy.
[talking about Anna Scott]
Writer : Oh, I see she took your grandmother's flowers.
William : Yeah... bitch.
William : Apart from the American, I've only loved two girls, both absolute disasters. The first one marries me and then leaves me faster than you can say Indiana Jones, and the second one, who seriously ought to have known better, casually marries my best friend.
Bella : She still loves you though.
William : Yeah, in a depressingly asexual way.
Bella : I never fancied you much actually.
William : You'd go and I'd be... well buggered, basically.
William : [to Martin] If I were to employ a wet rag would I have to pay it as much as I pay you?