Beautiful Girls (film)

1996 film directed by Ted Demme

Beautiful Girls is a 1996 film about a piano player at a crossroads in his life who returns home to his friends and their own problems with life and love.

Directed by Ted Demme. Written by Scott Rosenberg.
Good times never seemed so good.


Jan: Only when faced with losing me do you decide you want to spend the rest of your life with me.
Paul: So, what's wrong with that? I didn't like the alternative. I mean that's how one usually comes to a decision anyway, right?
Jan: Wrong again, Paul - one comes to a decision based on what one wants, not based on what one doesn't want. Got it?

Gina: I'm finished speaking to both of you okay? You're both fucking insane. You want to know what your problem is? MTV, Playboy, and Madison fucking Avenue. Yes. Let me explain something to you, ok? Girls with big tits have big asses. Girls with little tits have little asses. That's the way it goes. God doesn't fuck around; he's a fair guy. He gave the fatties big, beautiful tits and the skinnies little tiny niddlers. It's not my rule. If you don't like it, call him. (to shop owner) Hey Mitch. Thank you. (Looking at a porn magazine) Oh, guys, look what we have here. Look at this, your favorite. Oh, you like that?
Tommy: I could go along with that.
Gina: Yeah, that's nice right? Well, it doesn't exist OK? Look at the hair. The hair is long, it's flowing, it's like a river. Well, it's a fucking weave OK? And the tits, please! I could hang my overcoat on them. Tits by design were invented to be suckled by babies. Yes, they're purely functional. These are Silicon City. And look, my favorite, the shaved pubis. Pubic hair being too unruly and all. Very key. This is a mockery, this is a sham, this is bullshit! Implants, collagen, plastic, capped teeth, the fat sucked out, the hair extended, the nose fixed, the bush shaved... These are not real women, all right? They're beauty freaks. And they make all us normal women with our wrinkles, our puckered boobs, [to another man] Hi Bob, [to Tommy & Willie] and our cellulite feel somehow inadequate. Well I don't buy it, all right? But you fucking mooks, if you think that if there's a chance in hell that you'll end up with one of these women, you don't give us real women anything approaching a commitment. It's pathetic. I don't know what you think you're going to do. You're going to end up eighty-years old, drooling in some nursing home, then you're going to decide, it's time to settle down, get married, have kids? What, are you going to find a cheerleader? [giving her card to the shopowner] Charge it Mitch.
Tommy: I think you're over simplifying.
Gina: Oh eat me. Look at Paul. With his models on the wall, his dog named Elle MacPherson. He's insane. He's obsessed. You're all obsessed. If you had an once of self-esteem, of self-worth, of self-confidence, you would realize that as trite as it may sound, beauty is truly skin-deep. And you know what, if you ever did hook one of those girls, I guarantee you'd be sick of her.
Tommy: Yeah, I suppose I'd get sick of her after about, what, twenty or thirty years?
Gina: Get over yourself! Thank you Mitch. Say hello to Gertrude.
Tommy: What?
Gina: No matter how perfect the nipple, how supple the thigh, unless there is some other shit going on in the relationship, besides the physical, it's going to get old, OK? And you guys, as a gender, have got to get a grip. Otherwise, the future of the human race is in jeopardy. [she walks away]
Willie: What was that?
Tommy: I don't know, but a great ass.
Willie: Nice tits. Come on let's go.

Tommy: Can I ask you a question?
Andera: Go ahead.
Tommy: How long have you been going out with your boyfriend?
Andera: Eight months.
Tommy: And it's good?
Andera: It's very good.
Tommy: He makes you happy?
Andera: Yeah. I look for that in a man you know. The ones that make me miserable don't seem to last.
Tommy: Right.
Andera: You know there are fours words I need to hear before I go to sleep. Four little words. "Good night sweet girl." That's all it takes. I'm easy, I know, but a guy who can muster up those four words is a guy I want to stay with.

Willie: Do you want to go home with me?
Andera: No.
Willie: I had to ask, because to be honest with you, I don't find you the least bit attractive.
[Andera laughs]
Willie: Now do you want to go home with me?
Andera: No.

Willie: You know how it is, the beginnings? When you first fall in love and you can't eat, you can't sleep and getting a call from her, it makes your day. It's like seeing a shooting star.
Andera: It's the best.
Willie: Yeah, but, inevitably it goes away. It quiets down. So, this is my thing see, why get married now? Why not have two, three more of those beginning things before I, you know, settle into the big fade?
Andera: The big fade, that's an awful way to put it.

Willie: I look at you and I think it's amazing that there's a guy out there gets to do all kinds of things with you. He gets to make you happy and spend evenings with you...
Andera: ...make me martinis, listen to Van Morrison...
Willie: ...smell your skin...
Andera: ...after a day at the beach.
Willie: Yeah, and read the papers...
Andera: ...on a Sunday morning...
Willie: ...a rainy Sunday morning, and pepper your belly with baby kisses... Sorry.
Andera: The thing is, there's a guy out there thinks the same thing about Tracy and he's jealous of you because you get to do all that with her.
Willie: Let me ask you something; can you think of anything better than making love to an attractive stranger... with just an oil light to guide your way? Can you think of anything better?
Andera: Going back to Chicago. Ice cold martini. Van Morrison.
Willie: Sunday papers. Got ya.

Willie: [about Paul's walls, covered with pictures of models] You got to take this shit down.
Paul: Why?
Willie: You're like a serial killer.
Paul: Don't cap on my supermodels. Leave it alone.
Willie: It's creepy.
Paul: Look who's talking, Mr. Jerry Lee Lewis.
Willie: Oh, fucking Mo!
Paul: I don't judge. If she can cut her own food, she's fair game.
Willie: It's not like that. OK. All I'm saying is you got to take all this down because it's creepy...
Paul: Look. The supermodel's a beautiful girl, Will. She can make you dizzy, like you've been drinking Jack all morning. She can make you feel high for the greatest commodity known to man - promise, the promise of a better day, the promise of a greater hope, the promise of a new tomorrow. This particular ore can be found in the gait of a beautiful girl - in her smile, in her soul, in the way she makes every rotten thing about life seem OK. The supermodels, Willie? That's all they are - bottled promise. Scenes from a new day, hope in stiletto heels.
Willie: I am now going to check your freezer for human heads.
Paul: A beautiful girl's all-powerful and that is as good as love. That's as good as love.

Willie: What are you doing?
Marty: Another exciting Saturday night.
Willie: You got many exciting Saturday nights in your future.
Marty: Yeah, yeah. So your lady's here, huh?
Willie: Yeah, yeah.
Marty: I saw her. She- she's really pretty.
Willie: She's OK. She's not as pretty as you, though.
Marty: Kinda got that boob-thing going for her.
Willie: And she can get into R-rated movies.

Paul: Did you hear that Andera went back to Chicago? She was supposed to stay through the reunion. She just up and left. What did you say to her in that ice shack, Will?
Willie: I told you, we just talked.
Paul: You told her things, didn't you?
Willie: What things?
Paul: You let her behind the curtain, didn't you?
Willie: Maybe she missed her boyfriend.
Paul: You let her behind the curtain, I know you did. You never let them behind the curtain Will. You never let them see the little old man behind the curtain working the levers of the great and powerful Oz. They are all sisters Willie... they aren't allowed back there... they mustn't see.
Willie: Tell me the truth. You stay up nights thinking about this shit?
Paul: You say it like it's a bad thing.

Paul: So you're the little neighborhood Lolita.
Marty: So you're the alcoholic high school buddy shit for brains.


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