Wilson Quotes in Unlocked (2017)

[last lines]

Wilson: Run Sir

[pulls out a live grenade]

The President of the United States: Oh, what's the point? It's a disaster.

[Goes to push a huge red button; all the advisors shout "Don't do it"]

Advisor Cole: That button launches all of our nuclear missiles!

The President of the United States: Then which button gets me a latte?

Advisor Wedgie: That would be the other one, sir.

[Points to an identical button next to the first one; The President pushes it and serves himself a cup of coffee]

The President of the United States: What idiot designed this thing?

Wilson: You did, sir.

The President of the United States: Fair enough. Wilson, fire somebody.

Wilson: Yes, sir, Mr. President.

Leigh: The very least of our problems is that we're out of time.

Wilson: It's an old story with me. I was born out of time.

[Wells and Wilson decide who will escape to go for help]

Wilson: We haven't even flipped the coin yet.

Wells: I'm gonna lose.

Wilson: You got a bad attitude, Wells.

Wells: I ALWAYS lose. Had bad luck all my life. How do you think I ended up in here?

Wilson: Maybe your luck will change.

Wells: It might... If we don't flip a coin.

Wilson: What then?

Wells: Potatoes.

Wilson: All right.

Wilson, Wells: [both together] One potato, two potato, three potato, four! Five potato, six potato, seven potato more! Eight potato, nine potato, ten potato, eleven! Kiss my ass and go to heaven! Y-O-U spells YOU!

[Wells loses]

Wells: I told you I was gonna lose! Goddamn it, we're gonna do it again!

Wilson: That basement's not a bad place to be if they come at us again. The only way in aside from the vent is through that long narrow hallway. We might be able to hold them back for a couple of minutes... at best.

Lt. Ethan Bishop: We'd be trapped down there. No chance of escape.

Wilson: Well, we're not going to last one minute up here with only eight shots between us. The upstairs is out. It's flat, wide open up there. No cover at all.

Lt. Ethan Bishop: [after a pause; confident tone] Someone will come.

Wilson: A man with faith. That's a rare quality.

[to Leigh]

Wilson: What about you?

Leigh: I've never had much faith in anyone coming to my rescue.

Wilson: Maybe you've been associating with the wrong kind of people.

Leigh: I've worked with police officers for five years.

Wells: Look, they've moved the cars.

Bishop: I can't belive it. They parked them where they were before.

Wells: Why'd they do that?

Wilson: From a distance, the street looks normal. Like nothing happened.

Bishop: Like nothing happened? They gunned down five police officers! A secretary, one prisoner, we kill a dozen of them, and that's nothing happened?

Bishop: Well, where are the bodies?

[Bishop looks down at the ground and notices nothing there]

Bishop: They took them away!

Wells: How'd they do it so fast?

Wilson: Maybe they got the good fairy to help them.

Wells: Oh, you really are a smart-ass!

Wilson: What do you want?

Starker: Do I have to want something?

Wilson: You're a cop. You're either curious about me, or you wanna give me some shit.

Starker: I don't understand you, Wilson.

Wilson: Curious.

Lt. Ethan Bishop: [looking at the maintenence hole, before Wells goes out] Looks pretty good to me.

Wilson: Looks like hell. It's all we got.

Nightwatchman: I don't pump gas. You're gonna have to pump that yourself.

[Tosses the pump keys to Harry]

Wilson: [Harry tosses the pump keys to Wilson] Y'all got the guns.

Wilson: [Harry is forcing him to drive the wrong way on Wilshire Boulevard, at gunpoint] What's the hurry, Harry?

Harry Washello: I gotta catch a plane.

Wilson: The airport's the other way.

Harry Washello: I forgot something.

Wilson: I had to do that back there, man, I had to, you understand, huh? I had stolen stuff in my trunk, I had tickets, I had warrants, man. I had to squirt them but THEY DIDN'T HAVE TO SHOOT!

Harry Washello: [on police radio] Hello what are the latest on the evacuation plans?

Radio Cop: Please identify yourself.

Harry Washello: This is Mr. Peters with the Atomic Energy Commission.

Radio Cop: What?

Harry Washello: We have a Code Arthur situation, haven't you been informed?

Radio Cop: We have nothing at all in the headquarters, sir. What's the source of your information?

Harry Washello: [puts radio down] They don't know yet!

Wilson: Is that what it is? A meltdown?

Harry Washello: Yeah, it is.

Wilson: She just grew, and grew, and grew.

Wilson: How far did Shackleton get?

Captain Scott: He got to within 90 miles of the Pole.

Oriana Wilson: Isn't 90 miles near enough?

Wilson: What's up, brownie?

Winston 'El Toro Espin': Don't call me "brownie".

Wilson: ...How sensitive.

Wilson: Can you hear what's going on?

Ross Brady: No, but I can see him good enough.

Wilson: You think he'll talk?

Ross Brady: Wouldn't you?

Elizabeth Barrett: Is that Mr. Browning over there?

Wilson: I shouldn't be at ALL surprised, Miss.

Elizabeth Barrett: Oh, Wilson, I'm so tired. Tired! Tired. Will it never end?

Wilson: End, Miss?

Elizabeth Barrett: This long, long gray death of life.

Wilson: Oh, Miss Ba, you shouldn't say such things.

Wilson: [after Miss Ba reads a poem aloud] I call that just lovely, Miss Ba.

Elizabeth Barrett: Yes, but do you know what it means?

Wilson: Oh, no Miss.

Elizabeth Barrett: Does it convey anything at all to your mind?

Wilson: Oh, no Miss Ba.

Elizabeth Barrett: Well, thank heaven for that.

Wilson: But, then, read poetry never does, Miss. Least ways not read poetry like what you make.

Elizabeth Barrett: Oh, but I didn't write that. It's by Mr. Browning.

Wilson: Oh, he must be a tailored gentleman.

Wilson: Excuse me, Miss Elizabeth. Mr. Browning's downstairs.

Elizabeth Barrett: Oh, well - ask him to wait, please.

Bella Hedley: Oh, no dear, cousin. Ask him to come white up. We have to go downstairs and have tea with Uncle Edward. And besides, we wouldn't dweam of interrupting your tete-a-tete. Isn't it frilling, Harry. Mr. Browning's a poet and Miss Elizabeth's a poet. Isn't that a coincidence?

Harry Bevan: Oh, quaint, my dear, quaint.

Wilson: We all want people to love us for exactly who we are but that's not really possible in this world because we just all too unbearable. You know, we gotta make the best of what we have.

Wilson: [reading from an encyclopedia] "P O O K A - Pooka - from old Celtic mythology - a fairy spirit in animal form - always very large. The pooka appears here and there - now and then - to this one and that one - a benign but mischievous creature - very fond of rumpots, crackpots, and how are you, Mr. Wilson?" "How are you, Mr. Wilson?" Who in the encyclopedia wants to know?

Wilson: Is he alone?

Mr. Cracker, the Bartender: Well, there's two schools of thought, sir.

Wilson: Who's Harvey?

Miss Kelly: A white rabbit, six feet tall.

Wilson: Six feet?

Elwood P. Dowd: Six feet three and a half inches. Now let's stick to the facts.

Wilson: Hello, sweetheart. Well, well. Those for me?

Veta Louise Simmons: [Picking flowers] For you? I should say not. They're for my brother, Elwood. He's devoted to ranunculur.

Wilson: Sure. Well, wouldn't you like to come inside and pick some off the wallpaper.

Veta Louise Simmons: Well - no thank you, these will do nicely. Good day.

Wilson: I'll tell you something, Myrt.

Myrtle Mae Simmons: Yeah?

Wilson: You know, you not only got a nice build, but you got something else, too.

Myrtle Mae Simmons: Really? What?

Wilson: You got the screwiest uncle that ever stuck his puss inside our nuthouse.

Wilson: Where is she? That little dame that just come out - where'd she go?

Wilson: [Carrying Veta over his shoulders] How about giving me a hand here beautiful? I'll sit on her. You can strip her clothes off.

Nurse Dunphy: You'll just have to wait... I've gotta give some guy a bubble bath.

Wilson: Okay, honey, Make it snappy!

Wilson: Hey, now, look, now somebody's gonna have to give me a hand with that Simmons dame. She's terrible! You know, I had to take her corset off all by myself!

Wilson: Holy smoke! I left the water running on that Simmons dame in a hydra tub.

Wilson: Hello, Dunphy, I left that Simmons dame soakin' in 13. Do me a favor, will ya, honey? Turn off the juice.

Mrs. Hazel Chumley: Wilson... What's a Pooka?

Wilson: What's a what?

Mrs. Hazel Chumley: A Pooka.

Wilson: A Pooka?

Wilson: I don't want no part of that wacky dame! I'm lookin' for that other screwball.

Wilson: Where's this guy Elwood P. Dowd? That screwball with a rabbit. What's a matter? Are you goofy too? You a member of this cockeyed family?

Wilson: You know, if we grab your uncle, you'll probably be coming out to the sanatorium on visitin' days.

Myrtle Mae Simmons: Oh, really? I don't know, I...

Wilson: Well, if you do, I'll be there.

Myrtle Mae Simmons: You will?

Wilson: If you don't see me right away, stick around for a little while, I'll show up.

Wilson: Any of your patients been acting up, Kelly?

Miss Kelly: Everything's just *peachy*.

Elwood P. Dowd: Goodbye, Mr. Wilson.

Wilson: Goodbye.

Elwood P. Dowd: My regards to you and anybody else you happen to run into.

Wilson: Are you the Key Holder or the Gate Keeper?

Wilson: You can really understand me? Right now, you can understand what I am saying to you?

Owen: Yep.

Wilson: Can I have a cookie? No wait, ten cookies? No, can I have twenty cookies? Twenty cookies?

Wilson: They plant the trees, I pee on 'em.

Wilson: I'm wide open. Throw the ball. Throw the Frisbee. Throw the stick. Throw something, player.

Wilson: Misanthrope seeks misanthrope. Honestly, if you respond to this ad then you are probably not the kind of woman I'd go out with. I guess I'm lonely and it's new years and I'm willing to embarrass the hell out of myself with this ad. About me: My girlfriends over the years have been intelligent and beautiful, in the end they have all broken my heart, whatever that means. My friend says I have to have a foto, so here it is. Talk to you soon. Wilson.

Vivian: Will you think of me next year at midnight?

Wilson: Yeah. I'll think of you every year for the rest of my life.

[first lines]

Wilson: The midnight kiss. It's not just another kiss. It's all the hope of romance of the year culminating in just one moment. And that over-hyped kiss, in which there is so much calling, texting, I.M.-ing, planning, hurrying, drinking to make happen, is set at a moment when time itself takes center stage, when you can palpably feel the weight of the year to come, mix with the loneliness and missed opportunities of the years gone by.

[pause]

Wilson: For years I used to work at a video store, and on new year's, I would always deal with what I thought were my people... those brokenhearted soles that hated the whole pageantry of the night, the ones who wanted to quietly and privately wallow in their own self-pity, getting drunk on the fictional romance and heartbreak of others.

[pause]

Wilson: That was me... the lonely, hunkered-down type waiting for the night to blow over. But sometimes when you are so low you can no longer follow that routine anymore...

Wilson: [after posting a romantic connections ad on Craigslist] I can't believe we're doing this. We're inviting total insanity into our house.

Jacob: That's good man. You're not gonna sitting around the apartment.

Wilson: We're gonna get robbed. I'm gonna get raped!

Wilson: [On a blind date with Vivian] What are you looking for?

Vivian: The love of my life.

Wilson: On Craigslist?

Wilson: Don't you think it's that random act of unkindness from some total stranger that's the coup de grace, and then all of a sudden, boom. You're bleeding to death on the bathroom floor?

Vivian: [Fighting with her ex over the phone while out with Wilson] You know what? It doesn't even matter anymore. It doesn't matter. You know why? Because I am on a date tonight. And I am on a date with this wonderful, amazing, smart, attractive, handsome man. And you know what? He thinks I'm beautiful, Jack.

Wilson: No, no, no, no, don't. Not good, not smart. Oh shit. Great, I'm gonna get shot.

Jack: You're with a guy?

Wilson: Don't do this.

Vivian: Oh yeah! I like this guy so much that I think I'm gonna go home and I'm going to fuck this guy tonight!

Wilson: Oh shit.

Vivian: And I'm gonna fuck him over and over and over and over.

Wilson: That's gonna be awesome.

Wilson: How you doin' then? All right, are you? Now look, squire, you're the guv'nor here, I can see that. I'm in your manor now. So there's no need to get your knickers in a twist. Whatever this bollocks is that's going down between you and that slag Valentine, it's got nothing to do with me. I couldn't care less. Alright, mate? Let me explain. When I was in prison - second time - uh, no, telling a lie, third stretch, yeah, third, third - there was this screw what really had it in for me, and that geezer was top of my list. Two years after I got sprung, I sees him in Holland Park. He's sittin' on a bench feedin' bloody pigeons. There was no-one about, I could've gone up behind him and snapped his fuckin' neck, *wallop!* But I left it. I could've knobbled him, but I didn't. 'Cause what I thought I wanted wasn't what I wanted. What I thought I was thinkin' about was something else. I didn't give a toss. It didn't matter, see? This berk on the bench wasn't worth my time. It meant sod-all in the end, 'cause you gotta make a choice: when to do something, and when to let it go. When it matters, and when it don't. Bide your time. That's what prison teaches you, if nothing else. Bide your time, and everything becomes clear, and you can act accordingly.

Wilson: [looking at view] Wow!

Ed: Yeah, if you can afford a house like this you buy a house like this, you know?

Wilson: [peering over railing] What are we standing on?

Ed: Trust?

[pause]

Ed: You know, you could see the sea out there, if you could see it.

Wilson: Could ya?

Wilson: Can't be too careful nowadays, y'know? Lot of "tea leaves" about, know what I mean?

Warehouse Foreman: Excuse me?

Wilson: Tea leaves... thieves.

Wilson: Eddy... yeah, he's me new "china".

Elaine: What?

Wilson: china plate... mate.

Wilson: I'm gonna 'ave a "butcher's" round the house.

Ed Roel: Who you gonna butcher?

Wilson: Butcher's hook... look.

Wilson: How you doin' then? All right, are you? Now look, squire, you're the guv'nor here, I can see that. I'm in your manor now. So there's no need to get your knickers in a twist. Whatever this bollocks is that's going down between you and that slag Valentine, it's got nothing to do with me. I couldn't care less. Alright, mate? Let me explain. When I was in prison - second time - uh, no, telling a lie, third stretch, yeah, third, third - there was this screw what really had it in for me, and that geezer was top of my list. Two years after I got sprung, I sees him in Holland Park. He's sittin' on a bench feedin' bloody pigeons. There was no-one about, I could've gone up behind him and snapped his fuckin' neck, *wallop!* But I left it. I could've knobbled him, but I didn't. 'Cause what I thought I wanted wasn't what I wanted. What I thought I was thinkin' about was something else. I didn't give a toss. It didn't matter, see? This berk on the bench wasn't worth my time. It meant sod-all in the end, 'cause you gotta make a choice: when to do something, and when to let it go. When it matters, and when it don't. Bide your time. That's what prison teaches you, if nothing else. Bide your time, and everything becomes clear, and you can act accordingly.

Head DEA Agent: There's one thing I don't understand. The thing I don't understand is every motherfuckin' word you're saying.

Wilson: I'm looking for a different kind of satisfaction.

Wilson: You tell him, you tell him I'm coming. Tell him I'm fucking coming!

Wilson: Bide your time and everything becomes clear, and you can act accordingly.

[Wilson and Ed are standing by Valentine's pool]

Wilson: What are we standing on?

Ed: Trust.

Wilson: Tell me!... Tell me what happened to Jenny.

[Wilson is trying to goad Torrey into drawing on him]

Wilson: I guess they named a lot of that Southern trash after old Stonewall.

Frank 'Stonewall' Torrey: Who'd they name you after? Or do you know?

Wilson: I'm saying that Stonewall Jackson was trash himself. Him and Lee and all the rest of them rebs. You, too.

Frank 'Stonewall' Torrey: You're a low-down lyin' Yankee!

Wilson: Prove it.

Johnson: You know what your problem is Wilson? You need to listen for the pop.

Wilson: Whoa, whoa. What's "the pop", Johnson?

Johnson: That's the sound you're gonna make when your head comes out of your ass for the first time.

Staff Sgt. Thomas: What's the purpose of this cluster fuck?

Bozz: [spoken quickly] Wilson tried to switch targets with Cantwell, Sergeant.

Wilson: What?

Jim: [talking quickly] True Sergeant I saw him do it!

A.J. 'The Reverend' Shepherd: What are you trying to hide?... You saw it. You saw the monster!

Wilson: Is that what you're going to tell the papers? That you're afraid of monsters?

A.J. 'The Reverend' Shepherd: That's exactly what I'm gonna tell them if you don't fill me in.

Wilson: I have some more African heads in my apartment. Small, pickled ones. Do drop in anytime you care to meet some unsuccessful politicians.

Wilson: There are those at the BBC who bear like medals the bruises left by the love of Horatio Wilson.

Wilson: If we hadn't been away we'd have organised a small but vociferous reception committee.