Monthly Archives: July 2015
Anne Marie: Ma, I asked you to put Tom Jones on. You weren’t listening. I told you to put Tom Jones on! Put Tom Jones on! Tom Jones! Tom Jones!
Ma: You lot wouldn’t know a good tune if it came up and bit you.
Anne Marie: Put Tom Jones on!
Ellen: Stop screaming in my ear.
Anne Marie: Tom Jones!
James: Tom Jones is shite, Anne Marie.
Anne Marie: You’re shite. You’re a big shite!
Samantha: If just wish I could have taken this job. It would have been so perfect for me?
Carolyn: Would have really? You would have to leave your baby with someone else while you worked. That’s really tough to do, trust me.
Samantha: You worked when I was a baby.
Carolyn: I know, and I loved my job but it was still really tough for me not to be with you. As much as I wish it weren’t true, it’s a sacrifice either way, whether you go to work or you stay home. But let me tell you, it’s so worth it. You’re gonna be a great mom.
Movie Quote of the Day – Jeanne Dielman, 23 quai du Commerce, 1080 Bruxelles, 1975 (dir. Chantal Akerman)
Jeanne: You’re always reading, just like your father.
Sylvain: I know. You already told me. How did you meet my father?
Jeanne: Why do you ask that now?
Sylvain: I just read the word, “miracle,” and Aunt Fernande always said it was a miracle she met Jack.
Jeanne: Yes, he came in ’44 to liberate us. They tossed chewing gum and chocolates at us, and we threw flowers to them. I met your father after the Americans had left. I was living with my aunts, because my parents were dead. I went to the Bois de la Cambre with a girlfriend one Saturday. I don’t remember the weather. She knew him. You know who I mean. I’ve shown you her picture. So we began seeing each other. I was working as a billing clerk for horrible pay. Life with my aunts was dull. I didn’t feel like getting married, but it seemed to be “the thing to do,” as they say. My aunts kept saying, “He’s nice. He’s got money. He’ll make you happy.” But I still couldn’t decide. But I really wanted a life of my own, and a child. Then his business suddenly hit the rocks, so I married him. Things like that happened after the war. My aunts had changed their minds. They said a pretty girl like me could do better and find a man who’d give me a good life. They said he was ugly and so on, but I didn’t listen.
Sylvain: If he was ugly, did you want to make love with him?
Jeanne: Ugly or not, it wasn’t all that important. Besides, “making love,” as you call it, is merely a detail. And I had you. And he wasn’t as ugly as all that.
Sylvain: Would you want to remarry?
Jeanne: No. Get used to someone else?
Sylvain: I mean someone you love.
Jeanne: Oh, you know. . .
Sylvain: Well, if I were a woman, I could never make love with someone I wasn’t deeply in love with.
Jeanne: How could you know? You’re not a woman.
Harriet M. Welsch: It’s too hard. It’s not worth it.
Ole Golly: Aw, never say that, Harriet. You’re worth it. You’re an individual, and you know something? That makes people nervous. And it’s going to keep making people nervous your whole life.
Harriet M. Welsch: My whole life?
Ole Golly: Yep.
Harriet M. Welsch: What do I do?
Ole Golly: You stay true to Harriet and you accept the cost.