Men in Black (film)

1997 science fiction comedy film

Men in Black is a 1997 film about a street-smart cop from the New York City Police Department who is recruited by a veteran government agent to a secret government agency that monitors and polices alien activity on Earth, unbeknownst to the public.

Directed by Barry Sonnenfeld. Written by Ed Solomon, based on The Men in Black by Lowell Cunningham.
Protecting the earth from the scum of the universe.


Agent K

  • The person is smart. People are dumb, panicky, dangerous animals, and you know it!
  • 1,500 years ago, everybody knew that the Earth was the center of the universe. 500 years ago, everybody knew that the Earth was flat. And 15 minutes ago, you knew that humans were alone on this planet. Imagine what you'll know tomorrow.
  • Imagine a giant cockroach, with unlimited strength, a massive inferiority complex, and a real short temper, is tear-assing around Manhattan island in a brand new Edgar suit. That sound like fun?
  • No, ma'am. We at the FBI do not have a sense of humor we're aware of.

James Darrell Edwards / Agent J

  • You see this?! Huh?! NYPD! Means I will knock your punk-ass down!
  • [to Agent K, while wearing his suit for the first time] You know what the difference is between you and me? I make this look good.
  • Well, well. Big, bad Bug got a bit of a soft spot, huh? What I can't understand is, why you gotta come down here bringing all this ruckus! Snatching up galaxies and everything. My attitude is: don't start nothin', won't be nothin'!

Dr. Laurel Weaver

  • [examining Rosenberg's corpse] Oh, my God! [laughs] Whoa, buddy, what are you?
  • [to Agents K and J] Interesting job you guys have.


  • [voiceover, as Edwards becomes Agent J] You'll dress only in attire specially sanctioned by MIB Special Services. You'll conform to the identity we give you, eat where we tell you, live where we tell you. From now on, you'll have no identifying marks of any kind. You'll not stand out in any way. Your entire image is crafted to leave no lasting memory with anyone you encounter. You're a rumor, recognizable only as déjà vu and dismissed just as quickly. You don't exist. You were never even born. Anonymity is your name, silence your native tongue. You're no longer part of the System. You are above the System. Over it. Beyond it. We're "them". We're "they". We are the Men in Black.
  • Containment may be a moot point, old friend. The exodus continues. It's like the party's over and the last one to leave gets stuck with the check.


Edgar: I go out, I work my butt off to make a living. All I want is to come home to a nice clean house with a nice fat steak on the table, but instead I get this. It looks like poison. Don't you take that away — I'm eating that, damn it! It is poison, isn't it? I swear to God, I would not be surprised if it was, the way you skulk around here like a dog that's been hit too much or ain't been hit enough, I can't make up my mind! You're useless, Beatrice. The only thing that pulls its weight around here is my goddamn TRUCK!
[Alien spaceship crashes into his truck. Edgar surveys the wreckage]
Edgar: Figures.
Beatrice: What the heck is it, Edgar?
Edgar: Get your big butt back in the house! [grabs a shotgun and walks to the crater]
The Bug: Place projectile weapon on the ground.
Edgar: You can have my gun [cocks it] when you pry it from my cold dead fingers.
The Bug: Your proposal is acceptable.
[The Bug seizes Edgar and pulls him down into the pit.]

James : Yo, hey man, what the hell is all this?
Agent K: [hands James a file] Back in the mid-1950s the government started a little, underfunded agency with the simple and laughable purpose of establishing contact with a race not of this planet. ... Everybody thought the agency was a joke, except the aliens who made contact March 2, 1961, outside New York. There were nine of us the first night: seven agents, one astronomer, and one dumb kid who got lost on the wrong back road.
James :[looking at a picture] Aww, you brought that tall man some flowers.
Agent K: [points] This way. They were a group of intergalactic refugees. Wanted to the use the earth as an apolitical zone for... creatures without a planet. Did you ever seen the movie Casablanca?
James : [nods]
Agent K: Same thing, 'cept no Nazis.
James : Oh.
Agent K: We agreed, and we concealed all the evidence of their landing.
James : [looking at a picture] Uh-huh, so these are real flying saucers, and the World's Fair was just a cover-up for their landing.
Agent K: Why else would we hold it in Queens? More non-humans arrive every year and they live among us in secret.
James : Uh, look, I'm sorry, not to change the subject or anything, but when was the last time you had a CAT scan?
Agent K: 'Bout six months ago, it's company policy.
James : Right, you should make another appointment. Um, look, tell your boy Zed I had an absolutely wonderful time, and thank you for everything, but [hands the file back] why don't you show me the door?
Agent K: [sighs] Alright, I'm gonna get some coffee. You want some coffee?
James : No thank you, I'm fine.
Agent K: 'kay. [opens door to the break room to find 4 Worm guys]
Worm Guy 1: Wanga!
Worm Guys: Wanga! [laughs raucously]
Agent K: How are you doing fellas?
Worm Guy 1: [spills pitcher of coffee] Oh, shit.
Worm Guys: Hi, K.
Agent K: That's not decaf is it?
Worm Guy 1: Viennese cinnamon.
Agent K: Aw, don't tell me we only got that powdered stuff for cream again, I hate that stuff.
Worm Guy 2: No, zepeeka zetwaka. [points to table]
Agent K: Oh, good. You guys getting along alright?
Worm Guys: Ehh.
Agent K: Well, don't work too hard.
Worm Guys: Okay.
Worm Guy 1: So, you got cinnamon too?
Agent K: [to James] You sure you don't want some coffee?
Worm Guy 1: Did you see the cahuengas on that girl in payroll?
Worm Guy 2: Cahuenga he barauba ne zapwata! [They all laugh raucously]

Agent K: [Neuralyzes Beatrice after she tells them her story] Alright, Beatrice, there was no alien. The flash of light you saw in the sky was not a UFO. Swamp gas from a weather balloon was trapped in a thermal pocket, and refracted light from Venus.
Agent J: Wait, wait, wait a minute. So, you just flash that thing, it erases her memory, and you just come up with a new one?
Agent K: Standard issue Neuralyzer.
Agent J: And that weak-ass story's the best you can come up with?
Agent K: ...yeah...On a more personal note, Beatrice, Edgar ran off with an old girlfriend. You're gonna go stay with your mom a couple nights, you're gonna get over it, and decide you're better off.
Agent J: Well yeah, cuz, cuz, he never appreciated you anyway. In fact, you know what, you kicked him out! And now that he's gone, you're gonna go downtown, you're gonna go to Bloomingdale's, get yourself some nice dresses, get yourself some shoes, go somewhere maybe, get a facial, and, uh, oh, hire a decorator to come into this place quick, cuz, damn!

[A police officer pushes the stretcher with Rosenberg's corpse and the cat on top.]
Police Officer: Where do you want contestant number three?
Dr. Laurel Weaver: Just leave it there.
[Laurel walks over.]
Dr. Laurel Weaver: What's with the cat?
[The police officer takes a clipboard from the stretcher.]
Police Officer: Uh, the cat. Yeah, well there's a problem with the cat. [hands her the clipboard] Sign here.
Dr. Laurel Weaver: What's the problem with the cat?
Police officer: It's your problem. Heh heh. [He leaves]
Dr. Laurel Weaver: I hate the living. [takes hold of the gurney; to the cat] Shall we?

Dr. Laurel Weaver: [To J, indicating stitching on the corpse's ear] Look at this.
Agent J: What the hell is that?
[He touches it, and the face begins to open up. Inside is the actual form of Rosenberg, a tiny green man, who uses the controls in the head to operate the body.]
Rosenberg: [breathes deeply] Must [breathes again] to prevent [breathes again] contest [breathes again].
Agent J: It's okay. What are you trying to say?
Rosenberg: To prevent--
Agent J: To prevent... struggle?
Rosenberg: No, to prevent--
Dr. Laurel Weaver: War?
Rosenberg: War. The galaxy... is on... Orion's b-b- what is word?
Agent J: Bed? Belt? Orion's belt?
[Rosenberg nods, succumbs to his wounds and dies.]
Agent J: "To prevent war, the galaxy is on Orion's belt." The hell does that mean? [turns to call Agent K] Dr., uh, whatever, come here.
Dr. Laurel Weaver: Dr. Whatever? Hey, you guys aren't really from the Department of Health, are you?
Agent K: Rosenberg. [sees the alien] Aw, damn! The Arquillians are not gonna like this. This guy was one of the royal family.
Dr. Laurel Weaver: I knew it. This is an alien, and you guys are from some government agency trying to keep it under wraps.
Agent J: [to Agent K] Look, he said "to prevent war, the galaxy is on Orion's belt."
Dr. Laurel Weaver: This makes total sense. How else would you New York? The other day, I was in this cab, and this guy was-
[Agent K neuralyzes her, and she falls into a dazed trance.]
Agent K: Galaxy on Orion's belt doesn't make any sense.
Agent J: Look, that's what the little dude, in-inside the big dude's head said. Right? Right after— [realizes Laurel has already been neuralyzed] Damn, man. You did the flashy thing, already.
Dr. Laurel Weaver: [awakening, clearly disoriented] Hey, whoever you guys are, you're going to have to show me some ID if you're gonna be in the morgue.
Agent K: Oh, yes, of course, young lady. Have a look at this for me, please. [neuralyzes her]
Agent J: Would you STOP THAT?!
Agent K: What?!
Agent J: Th-that thing is gonna give her brain cancer or something!
Agent K: Never hurt her before. Look, we gotta get all the doors closed around here. Special Services'll be here any minute.
Agent J: Wh— "Never hurt her before"?! How many times have you flashy-thinged that poor woman?
Agent K: Couple.
Agent J: So, you not worried about no long-term damage?
Agent K: Little.

Agent K: Zed, we're running out of time here, if that bug gets off the planet with that galaxy, we're all bug food.
Agent J: Hey, old guys! [points to a mural of the Flushing Meadows-Corona Park observation towers, previously explained as having been built from spaceships] Do those still work?

Agent K: [To MIB Special Services] Alright, we got two dead aliens and a deputy medical examiner who needs a new memory.
One of the agents: Yes, sir.
Agent K: [off J's look] Make it a happy memory.

Agent K: Did he say anything to you?
James Darrell Edwards: Yeah. The world was coming to an end.
Agent K: Did he say when?

Dr. Laurel Weaver.: You don't wanna eat me. I'm a very important person on my planet. Like a queen. A goddess, even. There are those who worship me. I'm not telling you this to try to impress you, I'm just letting you know. It could start a war.
Edgar: Good. War. That means more food for my family, all seventy-eight million of 'em. That's a lot of mouths to feed, Your Highness.
Dr. Laurel Weaver: You're a wonderful dad, but I'm staying here.

Agent J: You do know Elvis is dead, right?
Agent K: No, Elvis is not dead, he just went home.

Agent K: At any given time there are around fifteen hundred aliens living on the planet, most of them right here in Manhattan. And most of them are decent enough, they're just trying to make a living.
James Darrell Edwards: Cab drivers?
Agent K: Not as many as you'd think.

[After K's retirement, Dr. Weaver has joined MIB as J's new partner, Agent L]

Agent L: Hey J! Zed called. The High Councilor from Solaxian 9 wants floor seats for the Knicks-Bulls game.
Agent J: All right, let's put in a call to Dennis Rodman. He's from that planet.
Agent L: Rodman? You're kidding.
Agent J: Nope.
Agent L: Not much of a disguise.


See also

External links