Mrs. Barham: After every war, you know we always find out how unnecessary it was and after this one, I’m sure all the generals will write books about the blunders made by other generals and statesmen will publish their secret diaries and it’ll show beyond any shadow of doubt that war could easily have been avoided in the first place. And, the rest of us, of course, will be left with the job of bandaging the wounded and burying the dead.
Lt. Cmdr. Charles Edward Madison: I don’t trust people who make bitter reflections about war, Mrs. Barham. It’s always the generals with the bloodiest records who are the first to shout what a hell it is. It’s always the war widows who lead the Memorial Day parades.
Emily Barham: That was unkind, Charlie, and very rude.
Lt. Cmdr. Charles Edward Madison: We shall never end wars, Mrs. Barham, by blaming it on ministers and generals or warmongering imperialists or all the other banal bogeys. It’s the rest of us who build statues to those generals and name boulevards after those ministers. The rest of us who make heroes of our dead and shrines of our battlefields. We wear our widow’s weeds like nuns, Mrs. Barham and perpetuate war by exalting its sacrifices. My brother died at Anzio.
Emily Barham: I didn’t know that, Charlie.
Lt. Cmdr. Charles Edward Madison: Yes. An everyday soldier’s death, no special heroism involved. They buried what pieces they found of him. But my mother insists he died a brave death and pretends to be very proud.
Mrs. Barham: You’re very hard on your mother. It seems a harmless enough pretense to me.
Lt. Cmdr. Charles Edward Madison: No, Mrs. Barham. No. You see, now my other brother can’t wait to reach enlistment age. That’ll be in September.
Mrs. Barham: Oh, Lord.
Lt. Cmdr. Charles Edward Madison: Maybe ministers and generals blunder us into war, Mrs. Barham the least the rest of us can do is to resist honoring the institution. What has my mother got for pretending bravery was admirable? She’s under constant sedation and terrified she may wake up one morning and find her last son has run off to be brave. I don’t think I was rude or unkind before. Do you, Mrs. Barham?
Mrs. Barham: No.
Eloise Cott: You think he’s got more than business on his mind?
Molly Thatcher: Every man has sex on the brain, like it’s some sort of wonder drug. . .a cure-all for everything: colds, pleurisy, arthritis. I even had a guy once tell me that sex prevents cavities.
Eloise Cott: Cavities? In your teeth?
Molly Thatcher: Sure. When you’re tense, you have more acids in your mouth; and acids eat enamel. When you get rid of the tension, you get rid of the acids. And the best way to get rid of tension. . .
Eloise Cott: Don’t tell me! let me guess.
Often cited as one of the films that started the “Paramount Renaissance” in the 1970s, Love Story was nothing short of a phenomenon when it was released. Erich Segal, who wrote the screenplay, was asked by Paramount to write a novelization of the film in to create pre-publicity; it became a best seller. I have a sort of love/hate relationship with this film. Mostly this is because I think it is really poorly written. I hate the characters. I don’t think they are really developed at all. But, I love the art direction and the cinematography and most of the performances. As I was watching it, I felt like it was this perfectly crafted film wasted on a mediocre screenplay and that just feels like a shame to me. Love Story was nominated for seven Academy Awards, winning one: Best Original Score (won), Best Original Screenplay, Best Supporting Actor John Marley, Best Actor Ryan O’Neal, Best Actress in a Leading Role Ali MacGraw, Best Director and Best Picture. The other films nominated for Best Picture that year were: Airport, Five Easy Pieces, MASH and winner Patton.
Youngman Duran: It just doesn’t seem natural for a man to spend his life, his entire life killing bats.
Phillip Payne: Not just bats. Vampire bats. I kill them because they are evil. There’s a mutual grace and violence in all forms of nature and each species in life gives something in return for its own existence. All but one. The freak. The vampire bat alone is that species. Have you ever seen one of their caves?
Youngman Duran: No.
Phillip Payne: I killed over sixty thousand of them last year in Mexico. You really understand the presence of evil when you go into their caves. The smell of ammonia alone is enough to kill you. The floor of the cave is a foul syrup of digested blood. And the bats, up high, hanging upside down, wrestling, fighting, mating, sending constant messages, waiting for the light to fade, hungry for blood, coaxing the big females to wake up and flex their night wings, to lead the colony out across the land, honing in on any living thing: cattle, sheep, dogs, children, anything with warm blood. And they feast, drinking the blood and pissing ammonia. I kill them because they are the quintessence of evil. To me nothing else exists. The destruction of vampire bats is what I live for.
Oliver Barrett IV: Hey, what makes you so sure I went to prep school?
Jennifer Cavalieri: You look stupid and rich.
Oliver Barrett IV: Actually, I’m smart and poor.
Jennifer Cavalieri: *I’m* smart and poor.
Oliver Barrett IV: What makes you so smart?
Jennifer Cavalieri: I wouldn’t go out for coffee with you.
Oliver Barrett IV: Yeah, well I wouldn’t ask you.
Jennifer Cavalieri: Well that’s what makes you stupid.