Famous Brazil movie quotes and dialogs:
Terry Gilliam directed the movie;Tom Stoppard and Charles McKeow wrote the screenplay.
Singers: [TV commercial] Central Services: We do the work, you do the pleasure.
TV commercial pitchman: Hi, there. I want to talk to you about ducts. Do your ducts seem old-fashioned? Out-of-date? Central Services' new duct designs are now available in hundreds of different colors to suit your individual taste.
T.V. Interviewer: What do you believe is behind this recent increase in terrorist bombings?
Mr. Helpmann: Bad sportsmanship. A ruthless minority seems to have forgotten certain good old-fashioned virtues. They can't stand seeing the other fellow win. If they played the game, they'd enjoy life more.
T.V. Interviewer: Is the government winning the battle against terrorists?
Mr. Helpmann: Ah, yes. We're fielding all their strokes, running all of them out. We're consistently knocking them for six. I'd say they're nearly out of the game.
T.V. Interviewer: But, Mr. Helpmann, the bombing campaign is now in its 13th year.
Mr. Helpmann: Beginners' luck.
Arresting Officer: This is your receipt for your husband... and this is my receipt for your receipt.
Bill, Department of Works: Mistakes? We don't make mistakes.
Charlie, Department of Works: Bloody typical, they've gone back to metric without telling us.
Jack Lint: Records is a dead-end department. It's impossible to get noticed.
Sam Lowry: I know. Wonderful. See you, Jack. Give my regards to Allison and the twins.
Jack Lint: Triplets.
Sam Lowry: Triplets? God... how time flies.
Sam Lowry: It's not the machine. There's a mismatch on the
personnel code numbers... Tuttle should have had L31.06, debited against
his account, not Buttle!
Mr. Kurtzmann: [horrified] Oh my God, a mistake!
Sam Lowry: Well at least it's not ours.
Mr. Kurtzmann: [eagerly] Isn't it? Whose is it?
Sam Lowry: Information Retrieval.
Mr. Kurtzmann: [smiling] Oh, good!
Sam Lowry's mother: Really, Sam! Can't you do something about these terrorists?
Sam Lowry: It's my lunch hour. Besides, it's not my department.
Sam Lowry: I don't want dessert, a promotion, or anything!
Sam Lowry's mother: Of course you do. You must have hopes, wishes, dreams!
Sam Lowry: No, nothing. Not even dreams.
Archibald 'Harry' Tuttle: Well, that's a pipe of a different color.
Sam Lowry: Couldn't stand what?
Archibald 'Harry' Tuttle: The paperwork. Couldn't stand the paperwork. Listen, this whole system of yours could be on fire and I couldn't even turn on the kitchen tap without filling out a twenty-seven B stroke six... bloody paperwork.
Sam Lowry: I suppose one has to expect a certain amount.
Archibald 'Harry' Tuttle: Why? I came into this game for the action, the excitement. Go anywhere, travel light, get in, get out, wherever there's trouble, a man alone. Now they got the whole country sectioned off, you can't make a move without a form.
Sam Lowry: Sorry. I'm a bit of a stickler for paperwork, you see. I mean, where would we be if we didn't stick to the correct procedures?
Archibald 'Harry' Tuttle: Thanks, Lowry. You're a good man in a tight corner.
Archibald 'Harry' Tuttle: My good friends call me Harry.
Archibald 'Harry' Tuttle: Listen, kid, we're all in it together.
Mr. Kurtzmann: It's been confusion from the word go!
Sam Lowry: Better still, send it to Buttle. After all, it's his check.
Mr. Kurtzmann: I've tried that. But look. Look at this. You see? The population census has gotten him down as "dormanted." Uh, the Central Collective Storehouse computer has got him down as "deleted." Hang on. Information Retrieval has got him down as "inoperative." Security has got him down as "excised." Administration has him down as "completed".
Sam Lowry: He's dead.
Mr. Kurtzmann: Le... Dead? Well, that's awful. We'll never get rid of the damn thing now.
Sam Lowry: Um, I do assure you, Mrs. Buttle, the ministry is very scrupulous...about following up and eradicating any error. But if you do have any complaints you wish to make... I'd be, well, only too happy to send you the appropriate forms.
Spoor: Oh, yeah? Then where did this come from, eh? Out of your nostril? Eh?
Sam Lowry: Just a minute! You're not gonna leave it like this, are you?
Spoor: Why not? All you gotta do is blow your nose and it's fixed, innit?
Messenger: [sings with high unpleasant voice] # Mrs. Ida Lowry
requests the pleasure of your company at her apartment tonight from 8:30
to midnight to celebrate the completion of her recent cosmetic surgery.
Sam Lowry: Um... thanks.
Messenger: It's reply paid.
Sam Lowry: Is it? Oh. Um -[Clears Throat] Two, three -# Mother, I'm sorry, but I'm unable to come to your party #
Messenger: You don't have to sing it.
Sam Lowry: I don't?
Sam Lowry: Mr. Helpmann, I'm keen to get into Information Retrieval. Mr. Helpmann, I'm dying to get at this woman. No, no - Ohh!
Dr. Lewis Jaffe: Can you believe it? It's just me and my little knife. Snip, snip, slice, slice. Can you believe it?
Dr. Lewis Jaffe: Faces are a doddle compared to tits and ass. No hairline.
Sam Lowry: Yes, I always used to wonder if she wore falsies. False ears...
Sam Lowry: My name's Lowry. Sam Lowry. I've been told to report to Mr. Warrenn.
Porter - Information Retrieval: Thirtieth floor, sir. You're expected.
Sam Lowry: Um... don't you want to search me?
Porter - Information Retrieval: No sir.
Sam Lowry: Do you want to see my ID?
Porter - Information Retrieval: No need, sir.
Sam Lowry: But I could be anybody.
Porter - Information Retrieval: No you couldn't sir. This is Information Retrieval.
Mr. Warrenn: There you are, your own number on your very own door. And behind that door, your very own office! Congratulations, DZ/015. Welcome to the team.
Sam Lowry: Jack, I - I need some information.
Jack Lint: Oh, Sam, this is Information Retrieval, not Information Dispersal.
Sam Lowry: A triplet?
Jack Lint: One of them, I think.
Sam Lowry: I only know you got the wrong man.
Jack Lint: Information Transit got the wrong man. I got the right man. The wrong one was delivered to me as the right man, I accepted him on good faith as the right man. Was I wrong?
Sam Lowry: You killed Buttle?
Jack Lint: It's not my fault that Buttle's heart condition didn't appear on Tuttle's file!
Holly: Put it on, big boy. I won't look at your willy.
Jill Layton: Get out of my cab.
Sam Lowry: What? Just drive!
Jill Layton: You touched me, nobody touches me.
Jill Layton: Doesn't it bother you, the sort of things you do at Information Retrieval?
Sam Lowry: What? I suppose you'd rather have terrorists.
Jill Layton: How many terrorists have you met, Sam? Actual terrorists?
Sam Lowry: Actual terrorists?
Jill Layton: Yeah.
Sam Lowry:... Well... It's only my first day.
Santa Claus: What would you like for Christmas?
Little girl: [on his lap] My own credit card
Mrs. Terrain: There's been a little complication with my complication.
Sam Lowry: Are you alright?
Jill Layton: Yeah.
Sam Lowry: Well, you don't deserve to be!
First Guard: These helmets don't half make your scalp itch.
Second Guard: Oh, don't mention it. And they make you sweat. Half the time I can't ever see where I'm going. There's a great Niagara of perspiration coming down.
First Guard: Well, I'm lucky. I got these thick eyebrows. That keeps it up and channels it out to the ears.
Mr. Warrenn: What is this mess? An empty desk is an efficient desk.
Jack Lint: Sam, we've always been close, haven't we?
Sam Lowry: Yes, Jack?
Jack Lint: Well, until this all blows over just stay away from me.
Sam Lowry: Excuse me, Dawson, can you put me through to Mr. Helpmann's office?
Dawson: I'm afraid I can't sir. You have to go through the proper channels.
Sam Lowry: And you can't tell me what the proper channels are, because that's classified information?
Dawson: I'm glad to see the Ministry's continuing its tradition of recruiting the brightest and best, sir.
Sam Lowry: Thank you, Dawson.
Sam Lowry: You don't exist anymore. I've killed you. Jill Layton is dead.
[Shows picture of Jill's file with the words "DELETE" on it]
Jill Layton: [smiles] Care for a little necrophilia?
Guard: Don't fight it son. Confess quickly! If you hold out too long you could jeopardize your credit rating.
Mr. Helpmann:: He's got away from us, Jack.
Jack Lint: 'Fraid you're right, Mr. Helpmann. He's gone.
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