Remy Quotes in Repo Men (2010)

Remy: At the end, a job is not just a job, is who you are, and if wanna change who you are, you have to change what you do...

Remy: I saw an interview with a serial killer once. Said it took him six years to work up to his first kill. The second, a year. The third, just a week. Once that dam broke, it was a flood. Making people die, it had become second nature. Apparently, it also works the other way round.

Remy: Jake Freivald kicked my ass in the fourth grade. It wasn't exactly fair, since he was in the fourth grade for the third time.

Remy: Almost every job I do ends the exact same way. Some whimper. Some cry. Some even laugh. But in the end, they all do the same horizontal mambo, twitching and thrusting their way into the great beyond.

Beth: Ask me about my lips.

Remy: What brand are your lips?

Beth: They're all mine.

Remy: He'll sign it. Everybody signs it.

Remy: Mr. Smythe? I am from The Union.

Mr. Smythe: Holy fuck! Wait! Okay? Just wait. No worries. Keep it holstered. Everything's okay. I can pay.

Remy: Sorry, that's not my department.

[shoots him]

Remy: My job is simple. Can't pay for your car, the bank takes it back. Can't pay for your house, the bank takes it back. Can't pay for your liver, well, that's where I come in.

T-Bone: You from the IRS?

Remy: No.

T-Bone: Soul suckers, taking everything back.

Remy: Mmm. So am I.

Remy: Part of me, most of me, doesn't mind too much if this is how it ends. Because it's over anyway.

Mr. Smythe's Date: [Remy is about to reclaim Mr. Smythe's liver] Hey. Hey!

[hits hard Remy]

Remy: Ouch!

Mr. Smythe's Date: Don't you fucking touch me!

Remy: No need for violence, Miss!

[she tries to hit him again, but Remy shoots her]

Remy: I guarantee, you'll run out of Repo Men before I run out of ways of killing them.

Remy: [from trailer] Take me out of the system.

Frank: Give me your fucking heart!

Remy: She rubs balls for a living.

Remy: Just swear on the book of Beelzebub.

[when the restaurant is empty Linguini and Colette bring Remy to meet Ego]

Remy: At first, Ego thinks it's a joke. But as Linguini explains, Ego's smile disappears. He doesn't react beyond asking the occasional question. And when the story's done, Ego stands, thanks us for the meal, and leaves, without another word. The following day, his review appears:

Anton Ego: In many ways, the work of a critic is easy. We risk very little, yet enjoy a position over those who offer up their work and their selves to our judgment. We thrive on negative criticism, which is fun to write and to read. But the bitter truth we critics must face, is that in the grand scheme of things, the average piece of junk is probably more meaningful than our criticism designating it so. But there are times when a critic truly risks something, and that is in the discovery and defense of the *new*. The world is often unkind to new talent, new creations. The new needs friends. Last night, I experienced something new: an extraordinary meal from a singularly unexpected source. To say that both the meal and its maker have challenged my preconceptions about fine cooking is a gross understatement. They have rocked me to my core. In the past, I have made no secret of my disdain for Chef Gusteau's famous motto, "Anyone can cook." But I realize, only now do I truly understand what he meant. Not everyone can become a great artist; but a great artist *can* come from *anywhere*. It is difficult to imagine more humble origins than those of the genius now cooking at Gusteau's, who is, in this critic's opinion, nothing less than the finest chef in France. I will be returning to Gusteau's soon, hungry for more.

Django: [showing the exterminator shop to Remy with the dead rats in the window] Take a good long look, Remy. This is what happens when a rat gets a little too comfortable around humans. The world we live in belongs to the enemy. We must live carefully. We look out for our own kind, Remy. When all is said and done, we're all we've got.

[he starts to walk away]

Remy: No.

Django: [turning back] What?

Remy: No. Dad, I don't believe it. You're telling me, that the future is - can *only* be - more of *this*?

Django: This is the way things are. You can't change nature.

Remy: Change *is* nature, Dad. The part that *we* can influence. And it starts when we decide.

[he turns to leave]

Django: Where are you going?

Remy: With luck, forward.

Emile: W-w-wait. You... read?

Remy: Well, not... excessively.

Emile: Oh, man. Does dad know?

Remy: You could fill a book - a lot of books - with things Dad doesn't know. And they have. Which is why I read. Which is also our secret.

Emile: I don't like secrets. All this cooking and-and reading and TV-watching, while we... read, and... cook. It's like you're involving me in crime, and I let you. Why do I let you?

Remy: Hey, I brought you something to...

[sees Emile eating garbage]

Remy: AH! NO, NO, NO, NO! SPIT THAT OUT RIGHT NOW!

[Emile obeys]

Remy: [sighs] I have *got* to teach you about food. Close your eyes.

[Emile obeys; Remy holds out piece of cheese]

Remy: Now take a bite of thi...

[Emile snarfs the cheese]

Remy: [whacking him on the head] Ack! No, no, no! Don't just hork it down!

Emile: Too late.

Remy: [as Emile tastes a piece of cheese] Creamy, salty-sweet, an oaky nuttiness... You detect that?

Emile: Oh, I'm detecting nuttiness...

Remy: [sniffing a cake] Flour, eggs, sugar... vanilla bean... Oh, small twist of lemon.

Emile: Whoa! You can smell all that? You have a gift!

Remy: [voiceover] This is Emile, my brother. He's easily impressed.

Django: So you can smell ingredients. So what?

Remy: [voiceover] This is my dad. He's never impressed.

[frame freezes as Remy bursts through a window carrying a book over his head]

Remy: [voiceover] This is me. I think it's apparent that I need to rethink my life a little bit. What's my problem? First of all, I'm a rat. Which means, life is hard. Second, I have a highly developed sense of taste and smell.

Remy: [observing what Emile is eating] What are you eating?

Emile: [pause] I don't really know. I think it was some sort of wrapper once.

Remy: What? No! You're in Paris now, baby! My town! No brother of mine eats rejecta-menta in my town!

Linguini: When I added that extra ingredient instead of following the recipe like you said, that wasn't me... either.

Colette: What do you mean?

Linguini: I mean, *I* wouldn't have done that. I would've followed the recipe, I would've followed your advice, I would've followed your advice to the ends of the Earth because I love you... r advice. But...

Remy: [whispering desperately] Don't do it...

Linguini: [hesitantly] I have a secret. It's sort of disturbing. I have a ra... I have a raaaaa...

Colette: You have a... rash?

Linguini: No no no. I have this-this tiny, uh, little... little...

[quickly]

Linguini: a tiny chef who tells me what to do.

Gusteau: What do I always say? Anyone can cook!

Remy: Well, yeah, anyone *can*, that doesn't mean that anyone *should*.

Emile: [notices Remy walking on his hind legs] Why are you walking like that?

Remy: I don't want to constantly have to wash my paws. Did you ever think about how we walk on the same paws that we handle food with? You ever think about what we put into our mouths?

Emile: All the time.

Remy: Ugh, when I eat, I don't want to taste everywhere my paws have been.

Emile: Well, go ahead. But if dad sees you walking like that, he's not gonna like it.

Django: [the clan is eating clean garbage thanks to Remy's gift] Now don't you feel better, Remy? Eh? You've helped a noble cause.

Remy: Noble? We, we're thieves, Dad, and what we're stealing is - let's face it - garbage!

Django: It isn't stealing if no one wants it.

Remy: If no one wants it, why are we *stealing* it?

Remy: [voiceover] Let's just say we have different points of view.

Gusteau: [as Remy is about to steal a piece of bread] What are you doing?

Remy: [groans] I'm hungry! I don't know where I am and I don't know when I'll find food again...

Gusteau: Remy, you are better than that. You are a cook! A cook makes! A thief takes. You are not a thief.

Remy: [wistfully] But I *am* hungry.

Gusteau: [chuckles] Food will come, Remy. Food always comes to those who love to cook.

[disappears]

Remy: [cooking a mushroom over the chimney] The key is to keep turning it. Get the smoky flavor niiice and even...

[thunder rumbles in the distance]

Emile: That storm's getting closer. Hey, Remy? You think that maybe we shouldn't be so...

[lightning strikes both; they fall off the roof]

Remy: [laying on his back, Remy tastes the electrocuted mushroom] Whoa, you gotta taste this! This is... oh, it's got this kind of... mmm, it's burny, melty... it's not really a smoky taste. It's more like a certain... Pshew! It's got like this "Ba-boom! Zap!" kind of taste. Don't you think? What would you call that flavor?

Emile: [hesitantly] Lightning-y?

Remy: Yeah! It's lightning-y! Oh, we gotta do that again! Okay, when the next storm comes, we'll go up on the roof... I know what this needs! Saffron. A little saffron would make this!

Emile: Saffron. Why do I get the feeling...

Remy, Emile: [together] It's in the kitchen.

Remy: [voice over] If you are what you eat, then I only want to eat the good stuff.

Gusteau: [Remy is locked in a cage] So, we have given up.

Remy: Why do you say that?

Gusteau: We are in a cage, inside a car trunk, awaiting a future in frozen food products.

Remy: No, I'm the one in a cage. I've given up. You... are free.

Gusteau: I am only as free as you imagine me to be. As you are.

Remy: Oh, please. I'm sick of pretending. I pretend to be a rat for my father, I pretend to be a *human* for Linguini. I pretend you *exist* so I have someone to talk to! You only tell me stuff I already know! I know who I am! Why do I need you to tell me? Why do I need to pretend?

Gusteau: [chuckles] But you don't Remy. You never did.

[disappeares]

Django: Where are you going?

Remy: Back to the restaraunt! They'll fail without me!

Django: Why do you care?

Remy: Because I'm a cook!

Remy: I can't believe it. A real gourmet kitchen, and I get to watch.

Gusteau: You've read my book. Let us see how much you know, huh? Which one is the chef?

Remy: Uh... Oh, that guy.

Gusteau: Very good. Who is next in command?

Remy: The sous chef... There. The sous is responsible for the kitchen when the chef's not around. Saucier, in charge of sauces. Very important. Chef de partie, demi chef de partie, both important. Commis, commis, they're cooks. Very important.

Gusteau: Ah, you are a clever rat. Now, who is that?

Remy: Oh, him? He's nobody.

Gusteau: Not nobody, he is part of the kitchen.

Remy: He's a plongeur or something. He washes dishes or takes out the garbage. He doesn't cook.

Gusteau: But, he could.

Remy: Uh, no.

Gusteau: How do you know? What do I always say? "Anyone can cook!"

Gusteau: [on the TV] How can I describe it? Good food is like music you can taste, color you can smell. There is excellence all around you. You need only to be aware to stop and savor it.

[Remy tastes food accompanied by synesthetic visions of color and music]

Remy: Oh, Gusteau was right. Oh, mmm, yeah. Each flavor was totally unique. But, combine one flavor with another, and something new was created!

Gusteau: Remy, what are you doing in here?

Remy: [harassed] Emile shows up... I said not to, I told him! He goes and blabs - it's a disaster! Anyway, they're hungry, the food safe is locked, and I need the key.

Gusteau: They want you to steal food?

Remy: Yes. No... it's complicated. It's family. They don't have your ideals.

Gusteau's Corn Puppies: [the cardboard Gusteaus start speaking]

Gusteau's Barbecue Spare-Ribs: Ideals? Hah! If Chef Fancy Pants had any ideals you think I'd be hawkin' barbecue over here?

Gusteau's Microwave Burritos: Or Microwave burritos?

Gusteau's Tooth-Pickin' Chicken: Or tooth, I say, tooth-pickin' Chicken? S'about as French as a Corn Dog!

Gusteau's Corn Puppies: Roof! Roming roon!

Gusteau's Barbecue Spare-Ribs: Ha! We're inventin' new ways to sell out over here!

Gusteau's Haggis Bites: Will ye' be wantin' some Haggis Bites, then?

Gusteau: I cannot control how they use my image Remy, I am dead!

Remy: Will you guys SHUT UP? I've got to think!

Remy: Look, if we're going to be thieves, why not steal the good stuff in the kitchen, where nothing is poisoned?

Django: First of all, we are not thieves. Secondly, stay out of the kitchen and away from the humans. It's dangerous.

Remy: [voiceover] I know I'm supposed to hate humans, but there's something about them. They don't just survive, they discover, they create. I mean, just look at what they do with food!

Remy: Gusteau's? Your restaurant? You've led me to your restaurant!

Gusteau: Uh, it seems as though I have. Yes. There it is! I have led you to it!

Remy: [watching Linguini's clumsy attempt to repair the soup he spilled] What is he doing? No. No! No, this is terrible! He's ruining the soup! A-and nobody's noticing it?

[to Gusteau]

Remy: It's your restaurant. Do something!

Gusteau: What can I do? I am a figment of your imagination.

Remy: But he's ruining the soup! We've got to tell someone that he's...

[Remy slips and falls into the kitchen]

[Remy hesitates at an open window, glancing back at the ruined soup]

Gusteau: Remy! What are you waiting for?

Remy: Is this going to become a regular thing with you?

Gusteau: You know how to fix it. This is your chance.

[a cookbook illustration of Gusteau animates and talks to Remy]

Gusteau: If you are hungry, go up and look around, Remy. Why do you wait and mope?

Remy: Well, I just lost my family. All my friends. Probably forever.

Gusteau: How do you know?

Remy: Well, I...

[scoffs]

Remy: You are an illustration. Why am I talking to you?

Gusteau: Well, you just lost your family. All your friends. You are lonely.

Remy: [chuckles sarcastically] Yeah, well, you're dead.

Gusteau: Ah, but that is no match for wishful thinking. If you focus on what you left behind, you will never be able to see what lies ahead. Now go up and look around!

Emile: But we're supposed to return to the colony before sundown or, you know, Dad's gonna...

Remy: Emile! There are possibilities unexplored here. We got to cook this. Now, exactly how we cook this is the real question...

[looking up at the smoking chimney]

Remy: Oh, hehe, yeah!

Remy: [directing rats in the kitchen] Team three will be handling fish, team four, roasted items, team five, grill! Get to your stations! Let's go, go, go!

Remy: [the others have him sniffing their food for poison] Clean... clean... cleanerific... cleanerino... close to godliness...

[rat looks confused]

Remy: Which means clean. You know, cleanliness is close to... Never mind. Move on.

Gusteau: Wait.

Remy: What do you mean, "wait"? You're the reason I'm in this mess.

Gusteau: Someone is talking about your soup.

Remy: I waited. For a sound... a voice... a sign...

Colette: Table five coming up right now.

Skinner: Coming down the line.

Colette: Set. Hot. Open oven.

Skinner: Coming around.

Colette: Oui, chef. One filet mignon, three lamb, two duck.

Skinner: Fire those soufflés for table six, ja?

Colette: Five minutes, chef.

Remy: Oh, God.

Mustafa: Tonight, I'd like to present the foie gras. It has a wonderful finish.

Skinner: Ready to go on table seven. Come on! Let's go!

Colette: Oui, chef.

Gusteau: You were escaping.

Remy: Oh, yeah.

Remy: [to Django] I want to make things, Dad.

[first lines]

[Charlie sitting at her desk at home. Phone rings. Charlie lets the answering machine pick up and listens to the recording]

Charlotte 'Charlie' Cantilini: [Answering machine message] Hi, it's Charlie. Leave a message.

[Answering machine beeps to signal beginning of message]

Carol, from LA Temp Agency: [Leaving message on answering machine] Hi Charlie, it's Carol from the L.A. Temp Agency. Listen, Dr. Patel's office needs you for tomorrow. Is that ok? Let me know. Bye.

[Answering machine beeps signaling end of message]

Remy: [Charlie sketching]

[Remy walks in with cup of coffee and toast]

Remy: Morning neighbor.

[Chews toast]

Charlotte 'Charlie' Cantilini: Heeeyyy...

[Looks at Remy and gestures to his hands]

Charlotte 'Charlie' Cantilini: Help yourself.

Remy: [Lifts hands holding coffee and toast in acknowledgement] Oh thanks, I was out of everything.

Charlotte 'Charlie' Cantilini: Uch, why do I even bother?

[Stands up while wadding sketch up into ball. Walks past Remy]

Charlotte 'Charlie' Cantilini: You know Remy, I gave you that key for emergencies... Extreme emergencies.

[Unseen Charlie throws sketch backwards and we see Remy catch it]

Remy: [Shakes sketch open] It was! I needed caffeine... Oh, now this is good. I'd even wear it.

Charlotte 'Charlie' Cantilini: Good, cause I gotta go. I'm late for my first client.

[Walks out of closet and to bedroom door]

Charlotte 'Charlie' Cantilini: But you stay, have breakfast, take a shower... open my drawers.

[Smirks at him and leaves]

Rémy: [in French] Contrary to belief, the 20th century wasn't that bloody. It's agreed that wars caused 100 million deaths. Add 10 million for the Russian gulags. The Chinese camps, we'll never know, but say 20 million. So 130, 145 million dead. Not all that impressive. In the 16th century, the Spanish and Portuguese managed, without gas chambers or bombs, to slaughter 150 million Indians in Latin America. With axes! That's a lot of work, sister. Even if they had church support, it was an achievement. So much so tha the Dutch, English, French, and later Americans followed their lead and butchered another 50 million. 200 million dead in all! The greatest massacre in history took place right here. And not the tiniest holocaust museum. The history of mankind is a history of horrors.

Nathalie: It's not the present you cling on, it's your past life. That life is already dead.

Rémy: Perhaps.

Rémy: I wish that one day you will have a son like you.

Rémy: We've been everything: separatists, supporters of independantists, sovereignists, sovereignity-associanists...

Pierre: At first, we were existentialists.

Dominique: We read Sartre and Camus.

Claude: Then Fanon, we became anti-colonialists.

Rémy: We read Marcuse and became Marxists.

Pierre: Marxist-Leninists.

Alessandro: Trotskyists.

Diane: Maoists.

Rémy: After Solzhenitsyn we changed, we became structuralists.

Pierre: Situationists.

Dominique: Feminists.

Claude: Deconstructionists.

Pierre: Is there an -ism we haven't worshipped?

Claude: Cretinism.

Hospital Patient Assistant: [speaking English] Good morning, guys. Welcome to America.

Rémy: [in English; sarcastic] Praise the Lord.

Sébastien: [also sarcastic] Hallelujah.

[Remy is holding his roommate and Malik at gunpoint]

Remy: Fuck all you damn Jews and Niggers! You stick together, don't you! You stick together to work against ME, the Pure White Christian Man! Don't you know he controls you, nigger? You're nothing without him. You're NOTHING! You're NOTHING! You're a SLAVE! I'll fucking take my fucking belt off, man, and I'll make you my fucking MONKEY!

Remy: [to David] Get on the floor.

David Isaacs: Remy, please.

Remy: ON THE FLOOR! You're not white! You're Jewish! You're NOTHING! You're not me. I'm the man! I'm the man!

Remy: [to Malik] Dirty Nigger! What do you have to say now!

[cocks the gun]

Remy: I ain't playin' with you. What do you have to say now! Huh! Mr. Fucking Hot Shot APE! You're NOTHING! Mal-lick! You're NOTHING! You're DEAD! YOU'RE *DEAD*!

[Remy starts packing while still holding the gun]

Remy: Don't move, fucker.

[Remy finishes packing]

Remy: You're gonna die. That's right, you're gonna die. You're ALL gonna die. You're gonna DIE, MONKEY!

[Malik confronts Remy after Remy shoots DÈja]

Remy: This is MY world! This is MY country! This is MY WORLD! You're nothing but a monkey. Look at me! I'm the man! I'm the man! You're NOTHING! You can't hurt me.

Malik Williams: FUCK YOU!

[Malik grabs Remy by the throat and starts choking him to death]

Malik Williams: God, I fucking HATE you! You're gonna DIE! You DEAD! You're gonna DIE!

[Malik continues to choke Remy until Campus Security forces him off]

Scott Moss: Hey, um... listen. Me and some of my buddies over there are gonna go down to his bar down on corner for a drink. You wanna come along?

Remy: Huh?

Scott Moss: I said me and my buddies are going to get a drink. Do you want to come along?

Remy: [stands up] What are you? Some kind of queer?

Scott Moss: What? What is that? What are you talking about?

Remy: [pushes Scott] I should kick your ass! Making the moves on me.

Scott Moss: First, don't ever touch me again. Because I will beat you to the fucking ground, boy! Second, I ain't no faggot. I just wanted to know if you wannted to come get a drink with me and my friends. That's all.

Remy: Oh. I'm sorry, man. This is a new city, new place... my first time away from home and I don't know anyone here. Please don't kick my ass. I didn't know. I overreacted.

Scott Moss: That's okay. I understand. Look... why don't we just forget about this and come have a drink with my and my friends? There's this bar down on the corner where we can get a drink, hang out with some good people, and talk. Come on. Get your books and come with me. We're young, we're white, we live in America. What more do you want?

Remy: [as he gets his textbooks] What was that?

Scott Moss: I said we're young, we're white, we live in America. What more do you want?

Remy: How would you feel if I came in your room and I started playing my music.

Fudge: I wouldn't feel nothing. 'Cause it'd never happen.

Remy: Why not?

Fudge: 'Cause I'll whoop your ass. That's why.

[Malik confronts Remy at the door of his room]

Malik Williams: Remy is it? Man, I gotta admit you've been really polite by staying out of my way. But you ain't been honest. See I figure, it's not what a person says it's what they think. So in my mind, you've been walking around here calling me a nigger in you head. Am I right?

Remy: I got nothing to say to you man.

[Remy tries to close the door, Malik forces it open]

Malik Williams: Oh, I think you do! You want to say what you feel don't you? You think I'm a nigger? You be a man and call me one to my face!

[after a few moments of silence, Malik psyches Remy out]

Malik Williams: I thought so. You're just a punk-ass white boy... with a fucked-up haircut. Bitch.

Remy: [to prostitute during gun battle] You live in a lousy neighborhood, you oughta move.

[last lines]

Remy: We might a gotten along pretty good if it weren't for that barge. Now probably down in Mexico, we'd a killed a bottle of tequila together, wouldn't we?

Travis: We'd a killed something, that's for sure.

Remy: [delirious] I shot the river.