Starring: Keanu Reeves, Winona Ryder



Romantic comedy written and directed by Victor Levin. The story follows two miserable and unpleasant wedding guests, Lindsay and Frank (Winona Ryder and Keanu Reeves), who are invited to a mutual friend’s wedding. While there, the two blow off their grievances about each other and their friends and develop a mutual affection despite themselves.


Best Quotes    (Total Quotes: 30)


[while waiting at the airport]
Frank: That’s a nice dress.
Lindsay: Thank you. I like your jacket.
Frank: Thanks. I hope our flight’s on time.
Lindsay: Oh, it is.
Frank: Great.
[he takes a step forward]
Lindsay: I’m sorry, what was that?
Frank: What?
Lindsay: You just took a step forward there.
Frank: I did?
Lindsay: Yeah, you did. You know you did. And what’s funny is there’s no way you can board first because the only way you could board first is if you have a special need. Do you have a special need?
Frank: Yes. I need to be over there.


[sitting next to each other on the plane]
Lindsay: What brings you to San Luis Obispo?
Frank: You don’t have to.
Lindsay: What?
Frank: Talk. Honestly, I’d be happier if you didn’t.
Lindsay: Fine.


Lindsay: I’m actually going to Paso Robles.
Frank: They call it Paso Roables.
Lindsay: Well, the correct pronunciation is Robles.
Frank: But they call it Roables.
Lindsay: Whatever.
Frank: I hope it’s a big place.
Lindsay: It isn’t.
Frank: If I see you at a restaurant, I’ll go to another restaurant.
Lindsay: I’m not going to be in any restaurants.
Frank: Why? Are you checking into a mental institution?
Lindsay: I’m going to that most presumptuous of all things, a destination wedding.
Frank: Please don’t tell me it’s Keith and Anne’s.
Lindsay: How many weddings can there possibly be on any given day in Paso Robles?
Frank: I was praying for two.
Lindsay: And I was blaming Satan for my seat assignment when it was actually just Keith’s assistant.


Frank: And how do you know the esteemed Keith?
Lindsay: I was engaged to him six years ago.
Frank: Oh, my God, you’re Lindsay.
Lindsay: Why, how do you know him?
Frank: He and I have the same mother.
Lindsay: Holy shit, you’re Frank? Oh, you’re even worse than he said.
Frank: You too.


[at the pre-wedding dinner]
Lindsay: So we’re just the people you don’t know where to stick?
Frank: You might as well just stick us together.
Lindsay: I don’t want to be a person you don’t know where to stick. That is not the life I imagined for myself.
Frank: I’m sure your next life will be better.


[referring to Frank’s step-father]
Lindsay: Who’s he with?
Frank: His girlfriend.
Lindsay: Howard left your mother?
Frank: “Left” is not a strong enough word. Fled.
Lindsay: For an older woman?
Frank: He would have left for an otter. Anyway, leaving is leaving.
Lindsay: No, no. Leaving for a younger woman is awful, it’s horrible. But leaving for an older woman is perverse.
Frank: Mom would have been just as angry about a younger one.
Lindsay: Yeah, but she would’ve been able to use her age to rail against a gender-unfair society. I mean, leaving for a younger woman’s the least he could’ve done.
Frank: My father left her for a younger woman. She can think about that, when she wants to cheer up.
Lindsay: But she and your father eventually made peace though, didn’t they?
Frank: Yep. Dad jumped out a seventh-floor window, and Mom considered them all square.
Lindsay: I’m sorry?
Frank: Don’t be. I was not a fan.
Lindsay: Well, you’re not a fan of many people, is my sense.


Frank: You okay?
Lindsay: Nope. You?
Frank: I’m all fucked up and I always will be.


Frank: I don’t understand how, even after Keith did what he did to you, and even in the midst of the shame of being here, you can possibly still be mooning over him.
Lindsay: That’s because you’re a monkey who doesn’t understand the human condition.
Frank: Having met you, I understand why it’s a condition.


Lindsay: You don’t stop loving a person just because they injure you.
Frank: It helps.
Lindsay: Well, love is not rational.
Frank: Clearly. But how could you even like Keith?
Lindsay: I never said I liked him.
Frank: Then how can you love him?
Lindsay: Love has nothing to do with like.
Frank: Healthy people would disagree.
Lindsay: Healthy people are sick.


Frank: Isn’t there a part of you that just wants to wish him well and move on?
Lindsay: Mmm. Most of me wants him to be found in an icy river.
Frank: It makes no sense to want the person you love to be dead. Because then you’d have no one left to love except yourself. Which, in your case, would be unrequited.
Lindsay: I really don’t want him dead.
Frank: Good.
Lindsay: I want him to have a long life, during which he is miserable every single day before slowly dying of regret.


Lindsay: There are seven billion people in the world. So when one of them behaves badly toward you, he’s actually doing you a great favor because he’s saving you time. He’s telling you that he’s not worth your while. He’s freeing you to say, “Thank you for the information. I will now move on to the 6,999,999,999 other people, some of whom may have some value.”
Lindsay: And is that what you’ve done, Frank? Just sifted, calmly and sensibly, through the entire population,searching for your soul mate?
Lindsay: No, I have opted out, which makes me uniquely qualified to observe and comment on your situation.


Frank: What’s hilarious is that these two have no idea they’re in a fool’s paradise.
Lindsay: You really think that?
Frank: I’ve spent most of my life dodging the shrapnel from my mother’s marriages, both of which started with smiles as big as theirs.
Lindsay: Some marriages work out.
Frank: Yes, and some people have six fingers.
Lindsay: So I’m guessing you’re single.
Frank: I decided to learn from my parents’ mistakes. It’s a form of evolution.
Lindsay: Yeah, but you can’t blame people for believing their own lives will be different.
Frank: Yes, I can. It’s incredibly egotistical. It might help you to consider the idea that heartbreak is pointless, because if you had wound up with the person, eventually, you would’ve been miserable anyway.
Lindsay: Actually that does help, thank you.
Frank: No problem.


Lindsay: But don’t you believe there’s someone for everyone?
Frank: Close. I believe that there’s nobody for anyone.


[we see Frank carrying Lyndsay trying to walk on the pathway]
Lindsay: How do you not install steps or a pathway for this shit?
Frank: They warned us. It was in the Welcome Basket.
Lindsay: This is a fucking liability nightmare.
Frank: That’s right, sue Keith again.


[trying to carry Lindsay]
Lindsay: Frank.
Frank: I don’t want to shed my mortal coil.
Lindsay: Well, if that happens, you can put me down.
Frank: You have a high, specific gravity.
Lindsay: Yeah, dense bones.
Frank: Really deceptive avoirdupois.
Lindsay: This is the slowest I’ve ever been carried.
Frank: Oh, dear God, be quiet.
Lindsay: Can you just let me off at the top though, so no one sees that you carried me?
Frank: Why? Maybe Keith will get jealous and rethink everything.
Lindsay: Keith has forgotten I’m here.


Lindsay: Holy shit, Frank. What is that?
Frank: I think it’s a mountain lion.
Lindsay: Could it be a jaguar?
Frank: I don’t know. I’m not a zookeeper.
Lindsay: It’s too big for an ocelot or a bearcat, but too small for a panther, I think.
Frank: What the fuck difference does it make what it is? It’s a fucking predator cat.
Lindsay: A cougar, maybe?
Frank: Oh, Jesus Christ!


[as they’re having sex in the middle of the bushes]
Lindsay: On the off-chance that we are making a baby, do you want a boy or a girl?
Frank: You’re asking me this now?
Lindsay: I’m killing time.
Frank: Uh, a boy.
Lindsay: My mother actually told me there’s a way to get a boy.
Frank: Oh, this ought to be good.
Lindsay: Yeah. At the moment of climax, just shout out, “Oh, boy! Oh, boy!”
Frank: Can we please stop talking about your mother. But I don’t know why you’d possibly want a boy, considering, you know, the baseline quality of your relationships with men.


Lindsay: I’m not wearing anything under my pajamas.
Frank: Why would you? They’re so alluring.
Lindsay: I didn’t think I was going to be intimate this weekend. Or any weekend.
Frank: Superman couldn’t see through those pajamas.
Lindsay: So you tried.
Frank: People have jousted in lighter clothing.


Lindsay: Frank?
Frank: Present.
Lindsay: When you said before that I was an attractive woman, what did you mean?
Frank: What do you mean what did I mean? You’re an attractive woman. You’re physically appealing.
Lindsay: Can you be more specific?
Frank: Your facial features subscribe to the Golden Ratio.
Lindsay: What?
Frank: One to the quantity one half times radical five plus one. The Golden Ratio.
Lindsay: You can tell that?
Frank: It’s an estimate. And you have The Folds of Aphrodite.
Lindsay: What are the Folds of Aphrodite?
Frank: That’s the name of the particular, graceful way that the cheeks of beautiful women arrange themselves when they smile. There’s a gentle creasing that begins at the cheekbone and runs downward, in a slightly arced diagonal, directing the eye to the mouth. It’s aesthetically thrilling.
Lindsay: Well, I’ve never heard the term Folds of Aphrodite.
Frank: I coined it.
Lindsay: Then it’s not a real thing. Then it and you are bullshit.
Frank: I Googled around and there was no name for it so I coined it. It’s established now.
Lindsay: Bullshit.
Frank: In my experience, there’s at least a ninety percent correlation between beautiful women and women who have The Folds of Aphrodite.
Lindsay: Oh.
Frank: The Folds cut across races and ethnicities.


Lindsay: What else about me?
Frank: Well, you’re slender, but not to the point of a troubled relationship with food.
Lindsay: That’s actionable profiling, right there.
Frank: File a grievance. And your curves are very sexy but not vulgar. Everything very much in proportion, firm but not overly, which I’ve always found weird and prepossessing. Your arms bespeak physical fitness and athleticism, but nothing sapphic. And your ankles quietly aver that you will keep your body well into later age.
Lindsay: It’s despicable the way men look at women.
Frank: In short, you are beautiful, graceful, and elegant. Also, you don’t dress in an overtly sexy way. You seem to understand that dressing sexy is actually the opposite of being sexy, that certain information should have to be earned, rather than given away for free to anyone and everyone who passeth by your doorstep.
Lindsay: If this were 1732.
Frank: I’m giving you a compliment.
Lindsay: You’re calling me a prude.
Frank: I’m suggesting that you’ve taken the high road. Even in this flagrant, flaunting day and age, you have chosen to preserve the mystery. Yes, the pajamas go too far, but I applaud the ethos.


Lindsay: Would you like to know about you?
Frank: No.
Lindsay: Yes, you would. You’re very handsome. You have powerful eyes. Your hair will never be a problem. The corners of your mouth touch, but do not cross the vertical lines which bisect your eyes. In profile, your chin extends exactly the same as your lower lip, which is an ideal. Bodily, you feel strong and substantial, sinuous but not wiry. Sartorially, you get high marks. You tuck in your shirts because you realize that tails out is a ridiculous way to dress. You wear your pants low, and your shoes are legitimate. And you have a beautiful penis.
Frank: I do?
Lindsay: Oh, come on, Frank. Surely people have told you that your entire life.
Frank: No.
Lindsay: Well, it’s very nice. It’s straight, and you would not believe how epidemic a problem that is. Also, it’s balletically formed. It’s not so big as to ever be a cause for concern, but it’s big enough never to be the object of ridicule or scorn. You’re in a very sweet spot there.
Frank: Are you saying that Keith’s penis is not straight?
Lindsay: Can you imagine that we would have gone this entire weekend without saying these things to each other?
Frank: Balletically formed?
Lindsay: That’s right.


Lindsay: When my time comes, I will sign a DNR.
Frank: I won’t. I want to be resuscitated. I want to be intubated, revived, retrieved, and prolonged. I want them to zap me with clappers and inject my heart with that long needle of adrenaline, whatever it takes.
Lindsay: What? But, what if there’s no hope?
Frank: There’s already no hope.
Lindsay: But what if you’re just a burden to your family and, by extension, the entire health-care system?
Frank: Won’t give a shit. I want them to stave off death. I don’t care if there’s turnips with better brain-wave patterns.


Lindsay: But I thought you hated life.
Frank: I do, but I’m going to be dead for a long time, so there’s no rush.


Lindsay: Do you want to have children?
Frank: I’d rather be dead in a ditch.


Lindsay: What if love comes for everyone?
Frank: Don’t be absurd.
Lindsay: What if no one is immune, not even us?
Frank: Stop it.
Lindsay: It would be remiss not to embrace the miracle.
Frank: What happened between us was not a miracle. It was actually much closer to a debacle. Maybe that’s what you meant.
Lindsay: Oh, come on. You don’t find it miraculous that two people like us forged any kind of bond?
Frank: I find it debaculous.
Lindsay: It was a miracle. It required forever being seated together. It required an adjoining door and a near-death experience. What are you waiting for, a burning bush?


Lindsay: Okay, but deep down, in your broken, miserable gut, don’t you want something that’s pure and in its own grotesque way, beautiful?
Frank: No.
Lindsay: Don’t you want to secretly have a romantic life that confirms your hopes instead of your cynicism?
Frank: No.
Lindsay: Don’t you want to believe that things like this actually do happen?
Frank: Nope. I’m fond of my cynicism. It’s very comfortable.
Lindsay: Like a warm blanket of your own shit.
Frank: Yes. Yes. I’m very comfortable and warm in my fucking warm blanket of fucking shit.


Lindsay: But what if we’re falling in love?
Frank: Dear God.
Lindsay: I mean, what if this is what it’s like?
Frank: It would end in disaster.
Lindsay: What if it didn’t?
Frank: It would.
Lindsay: I know.
Frank: Good.


Frank: It was very nice to meet you.
Lindsay: It was very nice to meet you too. I know what you’re going to say, “It’s not you, it’s me.”
Frank: No, it’s you.
[Lindsay chuckles]
Frank: It’s me.
Lindsay: Yeah. I know.
Frank: It’s you.
Lindsay: I… Yep.


Lindsay: Why didn’t we meet seven years ago?
Frank: Just lucky, I guess.


[giving her address to the taxi driver at the airport]
Lindsay: 14 Catalina Drive, Newport Beach, please?
Frank: What are you doing? Don’t give your exact address. You don’t know who the driver is.
Lindsay: Thank you for caring.
Frank: I don’t. I would’ve said the same to anyone.
Lindsay: We’re holding up the line, Frank. There are other people in the world.
Frank: There are?
[Lindsay smiles at him, Frank closes the car door and the taxi drives off]

Total Quotes: 30


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