“
Movies were never an art form, they were entertainment. It just evolved into an art form from there, and it's still evolving in different ways.
— David Mamet
Movies were never an art form, they were entertainment. It just evolved into an art form from there, and it's still evolving in different ways.
My alma mater is the Chicago Public Library.
The art of the theater is action. It is the study of commitment. The word is an act. To SAY the word in such a way as to make it heard and understood by all in the theater is a commitment — it is the highest art to see a human being out on a stage speaking to a thousand of his or her peers saying, 'These words which I am speaking are the TRUTH — they are not an approximation of any kind. They are the God's truth, and I support them with my life,' which is what the actor does on stage.
Before you can steal fire from the Gods you gotta be able to get coffee for the director
We don't have to worry about making it interesting; all we have to worry about is getting rid of the pig.
[T]he job of mass entertainment is to cajole, seduce and flatter consumers to let them know that what they thought was right is right, and that their tastes and their immediate gratification are of the utmost concern of the purveyor. The job of the artist, on the other hand, is to say, wait a second, to the contrary, everything that we have thought is wrong. Let's reexamine it.
Cop couldn't find his fucking couch, the living room.
Or me lying in the... Let me tell ya... Lying in bed the next day, she brought me cafe au lait, she gives me a cigarette. My balls feel like concrete. Eh?
You ever take a dump, made you feel you'd just slept for twelve hours?
Then I'm over the fucking top and you owe me a Cadillac. And I don't want any fucking shit and I don't give a shit.
Patel?!?! Ravadahm Patel?!?! How am I going to make a living on these deadbeat wogs?! Where'd you get this from, a morgue? Oh come on! What's the fuckin' point?! What's the fuckin' point in any case!? I gotta argue with you? I gotta knock heads with the cops? I'm busting my balls, sell your dirt to two deadbeats; money in a mattress. I come back, you can't even keep the contracts safe. I got to go out and close them again. What the fuck am I wasting my time... Fuck this shit!
Patel? Fuck you. Fuckin' Shiva handed him a million dollars, told him sign the deal, he wouldn't sign. And Vishnu, too into the bargain.
I find out whose fuckin' cousin you are, I'm gonna go to him and figure out a way to have your ass, FUCK YOU!
You cheated on your wife? You did it, live with it. You fuck little girls, so be it. There's an absolute morality? May be. And then what?
Yes, well that's very cute, but you're running this office like a bunch of bullshit.
Anybody that talks to this asshole is a fuckin' asshole.
Fuck the machine? FUCK THE MACHINE! What is this, courtesy class? You're fucked, Rick.
Cop couldn't find his dick, two hands and a map.
Well, to the law, you’re an accessory. Before the fact.
That's fucked. That's fucked. You don't look at the fucking percentage. You look at the gross.
What the hell are you? You're a fuckin' secretary. Fuck you. That's my message to ya: fuck you and kiss my ass, and if you don't like it baby I'm going across the street to Jerry Graff, period, fuck you. Now, I want you to put me on the cadillac board and I want two promising leads and I don't want any bullshit and I want them close together because I am going to close them all, and that is all I have to say to you! [flips him off]
Get the chalk! Get the fucking chalk! Put me on the board! Put me on the Cadillac board! Williamson! Pick up the fucking chalk! Hey, Rick I closed em! I closed the cocksucker!
I point back in the living room, back to the sideboard. I didn't fucking know there was a sideboard there!
You are a shithead, Williamson. If you can't think on your feet you oughta keep your mouth shut.
April to September it's me, it's no fucking Moss! Due respect... he's an order taker. Talks... oh, talks a good game. But look at the board, and it's me John. It's me.
A man should BE his job. You are FUCKED at yours.
Where have you been, Shelly? Bruce and Harriet Nyborg. Do you want to see the memos...? They're nuts... they used to call in every week [...] Did you see how they were living? [...] The people are insane. They just like talking to salesmen.
It's only words... unless they're true.
Superman comics are a fable, not of strength, but of disintegration. They appeal to the preadolescent, (sic) mind not because they reiterate grandiose delusions, but because they reiterate a very deep cry for help.
There's nothing in the world more silent than the telephone the morning after everybody pans your play. It won't ring from room service; your mother won't be calling you. If the phone has not rung by 8 in the morning, you're dead.
Old age and treachery will always beat youth and exuberance.
