My Top Ten Movie Quotes

Here's a Top Ten list of my favorite movie quotes of all time. Most of them, you've probably either never heard or forgotten entirely; this isn't about the quotes' fame, or the fame or even quality of the movie. Yes, this is a highly subjective list, and yes, few of these quotes mean much out of context -- but then again, so do few of the better-known "great" movie quotes people talk so much about. So how did I make my decision? Find out below -- but first, a run-down of the quotes themselves. Try to figure out which movies they belong to, before you read the answers below.

10. My god! It's full of stars!

9. My reputation precedes me. If it didn't, I'd be late for all my appointments.

8. It's not the years, honey. It's the mileage.

7. You think the crowd's ugly, you should see the dancing girls!

6. I was misinformed.

5. You're gonna need a bigger boat.

4. Ray, when someone asks you if you're a god, you say "YES"!!

3. There isn't a government on this planet that wouldn't kill us all for that thing.

2. Don't even turn around to say goodbye.

1. This . . . is all . . . far . . . from over.

10. 2010: The Year we Made Contact: Out of all the quotes on this list, this is perhaps the best known, reaching almost iconic status; only the Jaws quote is any competition in the fame category. So why is it listed as # 10, after a whole series of relatively obscure lines? Because, frankly, I am not a fan of either 2001 (the film this quote is usually attributed to) or its sequel, 2010 (the film the quote actually appears in). When all is said and done, 2001 and 2010 are, for all their acclaim and epic scope, a couple of boring movies. But this line . . . if these films really had as much wonder in them as this line does (delivered by Keir Dullea, as astronaut Dave Bowman) -- that would really be something to watch.

9. Who's Harry Crumb? I don't know of anyone -- not even the few people who know and like this relatively obscure film -- would list it as one of the greats. It's a fun but ultimately insignificant comic mystery, enjoyable, but easy to dismiss as Hollywood's version of a throw-away gift. Actually, it was originally intended as anything but; at the time, TriStar Pictures was hoping to expand the film into not one, but two comedy/ mystery franchises, one featuring the further adventures of bumbling private eye Harry Crumb, and the other featuring his brilliant ancestors. Poor box office returns nixed that idea, and we ended up with only this one solo adventure, starring John Candy as Crumb.

Why do I consider this one Grouchoesque quote so great? Because with just this one line, the movie sums up the character of Harry Crumb, and, to an extent, the charm of the late, great John Candy. There is something about the way Candy delivers this line that is paradoxical -- exuding both charm and comical over-confidence in that charm -- that truly encapsulates the character, and the persona of Candy himself. How often does an actor get a line that does all of that?

8. Raiders of the Lost Ark: The Indiana Jones films are known more for their spectacular stunts and thrilling storylines than they are for their dialogue. But Raiders of the Lost Ark was co-written by none other than Lawrence Kasdan, a man who, to say the least, knows how to turn a phrase. By the time Raiders reaches its mid-point, poor Indy has been brutally beaten, double-crossed, and shot at by countless Nazi thugs -- and it's clear that this is not the first time he has knocked at death's door. So when ex-flame Marion gripes that he's not the same man she knew ten years ago, Indy's reply that it's not the years but the mileage means a lot more than how far he's traveled on a map. More to the point, it's a reply that mixes wit with a type of world-weariness to which we can all relate at times.

7. The Muppet Movie: The Muppets -- and I'm talking about the brilliant Jim Henson Muppets here, not the watered-down dreck that his company has churned out since his death -- have always not only used outdated humor, so much as reveled in it, made it their home. They work in a vaudevillian theater, perform time-worn acts, tell groan-inducing jokes, and associate with the likes of Bob Hope, George Burns, and Milton Berle, who at one point tries to tell Fozzie Bear that his jokes are so old they've got whiskers on them -- itself an eye-rollingly old pun. In this flashback film that allegedly explains how the Muppets first met, Kermit encounters Fozzie in a bar that's so rough that the owner himself is violently thrown out the door. When the dancing girls call in sick, Fozzie and Kermit try to appease the angry crowd with an impromptu soft-shoe number.

"The crowd's getting ugly!" Kermit exclaims to an unflappable Fozzie. "You think the crowd's ugly, you should see the dancing girls!" Classic.

6. Casablanca has a lot of classic lines -- certainly too many to list here -- but this relatively overlooked line is, for my money, the movie's best. Bogie says it to Claude Rains, whose character, the charmingly conniving Louis Renault, is trying to figure out what led the mysterious Rick Blaine to open a business in the dangerous town of Casablanca. "I came here for the waters," Rick enigmatically explains. "But we're in the desert!" Louis objects. "I was misinformed." Yes, it's a funny line, but it's more than that, it enhances Rick's mystery by refusing to reveal his motivation. And it helps establish the relationship between Louis, who is constantly trying to find the angle, and Rick, who is always dodging his past (until he can't any longer).

5. Jaws: Everyone knows this one. In the movie that put Steven Spielberg on the map (Duel had earned critical acclaim, but had hardly made him a household name) the threat of the great white shark that has been terrorizing Amity's waters has been building at a steady pace. The three main characters -- grizzled Robert Shaw, scholarly Richard Dreyfuss, and slightly aquaphobic everyman Roy Scheider -- join forces to hunt down and kill the shark once and for all. Then, while Dreyfuss and Shaw are preoccupied, Scheider gets the first glimpse of the shark, whose massive form breaks the surface just long enough to give Scheider's Police Chief Brody an idea of what they're up against. The understatement of Brody's observation is a classically Spielbergian moment of simultaneously building tension and earning a laugh -- and, considering what follows, also serves as a brilliant use of foreshadowing.

4. Ghostbusters: People love to quote this movie; it doesn't rank with Monty Python and the Holy Grail as the most overly-quoted movie, but it is in the same league. This line, though, delivered during the Ghostbusters' climactic battle with the villainous deity Gozer, earns a laugh no matter how many times we hear it. "Are you a god?" Gozer asks Ray Stantz. When Ray admits that he isn't, Gozer punishes the Ghosbusters with near-lethal rays of spectral energy. There's something about Winston's admonition that Ray should have said "yes" -- maybe it's the line's way of coming across as comical advice for everyday life, or maybe it's the unapologetic New York defiance between the words in the line -- that makes the moment unforgettable.

3. Sneakers: A group of private security specialists have been hired by the government to steal a mysterious black box. Among these experts is Donald Crease, a former agent for the C.I.A. who knows the bitter, dark side of the spy game all too well. There is a brilliant scene which parallels two simultaneous conversations being had by various members of the group. As one conversation reaches the unnerving conclusion that their employers may or may not be legitimate government agents, the other stumbles upon the discovery that the box is a universal code breaker, allowing its user to hack into any government or private electronic system in the world. They've stumbled upon a job they didn't even know was way over their heads, and Don Crease, played by the rock-solid actor Sidney Poitier announces that their lives are in danger in ways they previously couldn't imagine. "There isn't a government on this planet that wouldn't kill us all for that thing," he quietly warns his friends. He turns out to be right.

2. Mad Dog and Glory: Not many actors can trace their career path to a single line, but David Caruso may be one of them. In Mad Dog and Glory, he plays Mike, a police detective who oozes confidence and quiet masculinity -- in direct contrast to his best friend Wayne, a humble, nervous, shy detective played by a surprisingly meek Robert DeNiro. After Wayne fails miserably in an attempt to scare off his neighbor's abusive boyfriend, Mike gives it a shot -- and manages to reduce the massive brute to a terrified bowl of jelly, without so much as raising his voice. Caruso's performance in this scene is what inspired Stephen Bochco to cast him in the role that made him famous, N.Y.P.D. Blue's Detective John Kelly. But the scene is powerful enough in its own right.

1. Dead Again: This is the closing line of the very first scene of Dead Again, an intelligent thriller skillfully directed by Kenneth Branagh and brilliantly scripted by Scott Frank. Because the line occurs so early in the film, we know that the prediction is necessarily right on at least one level. Because it's spoken by a man about to be executed, a man who refuses to elaborate on the meaning behind his words, the line takes on the very essence of ambiguous, ominous foreshadowing. What does convicted killer Roman Strauss mean, exactly, when he says this? Is he threatening to return from the grave, or is he merely warning that his case will continue to reveal layer after layer even after his death?

As an actor, Branagh can never be accused of subtlety. As Roman Strauss, Branagh stretches Roman's last words out into an ominous whisper that hints at evil deeds destined to occur. When the events have finally finished unfolding, the movie's characters -- and viewers -- will never be able to forget Roman's deathbed warning.

Around the World in 80 Days

When you claim to be a film buff, people are constantly bugging you to watch all the classics. Fifteen years after declaring myself a cinema major in college, I finally got around to watching Around the World in Eighty Days, which won the Academy Award for Best Picture in 1956.

Based on the novel by Jules Verne, the movie tells the story of Phileas Fogg, whose stiff upper lip and obsession with precision are both tested when, on a bet, he sets out to prove that "modern" technology and transportation routes (from the perspective of the characters in 1872) would enable a man to travel around the world in a mere eighty days. Charming and suave as ever, David Niven is the perfect choice to play Fogg. His traveling companion and ostensible sidekick, Passepartout, is played by comedian Cantinflas, who, at the time, was such a huge star in Mexico that his celebrity had made him the richest actor in the world. Niven's effortlessly pitch-perfect performance as Fogg is, in fact, often overshadowed by Cantinflas, who gets most of the best scenes in the film.

The movie clearly got a re-write after Cantinflas was cast, to emphasize his particular talents. Cantinflas gets to clown, dance, and play verbal word games, while Fogg's role is alternately reduced to that of an observer, or even written out of the scene entirely. The most notable example is an extended bullfighting scene, which showcases the comedian's expertise in the sport. The scene goes on a bit too long, but it's worth it, as Cantinflas, who stays in character even as he plays the game in expert fashion, is still mesmerizing 53 years later.

Robert Newton also deserves mention as Inspector Fix, a Scotland Yard agent who pursues Fogg and Passepartout around the globe, after a false tip leads him to suspect the heroes to be involved with the recent robbery of the Bank of England. As Fix, Newton provides a comical performance which isn't exactly funny, but is still a lot of fun, if you can appreciate my distinction. Affable and likable despite his role as an antagonist, Fix breaks and follows the rules with equal glee; he refuses to arrest Fogg and Passepartout without a proper warrant, for example, but has no problem drugging and kidnapping Passepartout to stall them long enough for the warrant to arrive.

Aside from Cantinflas and Newton stealing the show, Around the World in Eighty Days was known for its celebrity cameos and its Oscar-winning cinematography. Audiences in 1956 enjoyed playing "spot the star" while watching the film, but the potential fun of this game was mostly lost on me, since the only purpose of the cameos seems to be as punctuation for the many long, drawn-out scenes where we are encouraged to gaze at the wonders of the then-innovative Todd-AO cinematography. Yes, the scenery is magnificent, but there's only so much staring at landscapes one can take before the "move" has gone out of the movie. That being said, there was one "spot the star" scene I thoroughly enjoyed -- the saloon scene, which features no less than five big stars in roles so small that the scene serves as a sort of punch-line to the whole cameo parade. (The movie's biggest star, Frank Sinatra, doesn't even have any lines.)

If the biggest flaw of the 1956 film is its slow pace (a common complaint modern audiences make about old movies, true, but I imagine even '56 viewers grew bored with some of the extended "vista" shots), the 2004 remake slightly errs in the opposite direction; whereas the '56 version had too many scenes where little to nothing happens, the '04 version has many scenes were almost too much happens; the camera whirls around like mad, fight and chase scenes erupt at the drop of a hat, and characters often have to shout to be heard above the chaos. While the '56 film was a patient and quiet ode to majesty and sophistication, the '04 version is a madcap romp with thrilling action and wacky comedy. It doesn't always work, but unlike the '56 version, the '04 remake is never boring.

Directed with energy and style by Frank Coraci, this update re-casts Fogg as an eccentric inventor who is routinely ridiculed by the Royal Academy of Science. This time, the bet that sends Fogg around the world is not a friendly gentleman's wager, but a high-stakes gamble, in which academy director Lord Kelvin (played with villainous gusto by Jim Broadbent) agrees to hand his title and authority over to Fogg if Fogg manages to travel around the world in eighty days, while Fogg foolishly agrees to give up his passion of inventing if he should fail to return before the deadline.

This time, Passepartout isn't just given all the best scenes, he's also given his own plotline, which parallels Fogg's wager rather than merely serving as a subplot to it. In this version, Passepartout's real identity is Lau Xing, a secret agent of the Ten Tigers of Canton (a group of ancient Chinese warriors who actually existed in real life). Lau is on a mission to retrieve the Jade Buddha, a sacred relic that has been stolen from his village and stored at the Bank of England -- a detail which adds an interesting twist to Inspector Fix's pursuit of Fogg and Passepartout, since, in this version, Passepartout really is guilty of the robbery he's accused of.

If there is any doubt that the '56 movie was re-written to accommodate the casting of Passepartout, there can be no doubt at all that the '04 version is clearly intended as a vehicle for Jackie Chan, as charismatic as ever as Fogg's faux-French valet. Chan's multiple fights with the Black Scorpions who want to steal the Jade Buddha back all serve as excellent showcases for Chan's unique style of fight choreography, which combines amazing acrobatics with inventive slapstick sight gags at thrillingly break-neck speeds. Chan's accent and niche-like persona may have combined to cause people to under-rate him as an actor, but there's no denying that he still excels most as an action hero, designing and performing creative and amusing stunts. On this level, Around the World in Eighty Days does not disappoint, even if it's all a million miles removed from anything Jules Verne could have imagined.

The result of all this is that Passepartout nearly becomes a more central figure than the original main character, Phileas Fogg. The film attempts to compensate for this by casting Steve Coogan in the role, a tactic that only sort of works. A gifted actor and comedian, Coogan definitely does more for the character of Fogg than the character does for his career; I won't go so far as to say that his talents are lost in the role, as I for one appreciated his performance, but he surely must have known that Chan's character would upstage his even more than Cantinflas threatened to overshadow Niven back in 1956. This is not a complaint about the movie so much as an observation that Coogan perhaps needs a better agent. (He really does seem to have a knack for delivering excellent performances in mediocre roles.)

Like the '56 version, the '04 remake features a lot of fun cameos, and, assuming you don't spoil the "spot the star" fun by looking at the movie's IMDb page, I won't spoil it by listing them here. However, two members of the supporting cast do deserve particular mention, both good and bad. On the negative side, you've got Ewan Bremner as Inspector Fix. As played by Bremner, the bumbling Mr. Fix is the embodiment of the film's emphasis on wacky comedy, but he plays the role much, much too broadly; his constant pratfalls, slapstick, and wildly "comic" overacting turn the character into a sort of live-action cartoon, and, more to the point, an annoying distraction which adds very little of use to the film. In Bremner's defense, it's impossible to tell how much of this is his fault, and how much of the character's irritating traits were decisions by the director or writers.

On the positive side, you've got Mark Addy in the small but memorable role as an enthusiastic steamer captain. Roger Ebert talks a lot about the "joy of performance," which may be sincere or an illusion, but either way, Addy definitely brings it to his character here. Addy is a delight as the eternally optimistic captain who genuinely likes his passengers and is cheerfully determined to see to their happiness, even at ridiculous cost. If Bremner's Mr. Fix represents the worst of this film's over-the-top excess, Addy's steamer character definitely represents the best.

So what's the final verdict for both films? Well, the '56 version definitely had more class. Cantinflas and Niven are both excellent in the lead roles, and the technical aspects are indeed notable achievements -- but the slow pace, even by '50s standards, really does a lot to make the three and a half hours' running time seem even longer. I'm glad I watched it, but I'll never be tempted to watch it again. The remake is a loud, silly, and occasionally juvenile travesty of Jules Verne, but as entertainment goes, the bottom line is it's a lot of fun. Sometimes, even for classic cinema fans such as myself, "they don't make 'em like they used to" is not necessarily a complaint.