Gary Oldman Monologues

I cannot hear them, but I know they are making a hash of it. What do you think? Music is... a dreadful thing. What is it? I don't understand it. What does it mean?

Utter nonsense. If you hear a marching band, is your soul exalted? No, you march. If you hear a waltz, you dance. If you hear a mass, you take communion. It is the power of music to carry one directly into the mental state of the composer. The listener has no choice. It is like hypnotism. So, now… What was in my mind when I wrote this? Hmm? A man is trying to reach his lover. His carriage has broken down in the rain. The wheels stuck in the mud. She will only wait so long. This… is the sound of his agitation. "This is how it is… ," the music is saying. "Not how you are used to being. Not how you are used to thinking. But like this."

It is the power of music to carry one directly into the mental state of the composer.

It is terrible, terrible for you to rob me in this way of my most treasured feelings!

You think that because I do not stop you, that I am not listening.

The manner in which you thump out the notes without the slightest thought as to their meaning is unforgivable. And your lack of passion is unforgivable. I shall have to beat you.

I can't hear them, but I know that they are making a hash of it.

You know why wigs went out of fashion? Because too many ended up in the bottom of baskets.

You can not reason with a tiger when your head is in its mouth.

Those who never change their mind never change anything.

Nations which go down fighting rise again, and those that surrender tamely are finished

Please tell the Privy Seal that I'm sealed in the privy and I can only deal with one shit at a time.

Will you stop interrupting me while I am interrupting you!

Success is not final, failure is not fatal, it is the courage to continue that counts.

I'm getting the job only because the ship is sinking. It's not a gift, it's revenge.

Turning once again to the question of invasion I would observe that there has never been a period in all these long centuries of which we boast, when an absolute guarantee against invasion could have been given to our people. I have, myself full confidence that if all do their duty, if nothing is neglected, and if the best arrangements are made, as they are being made, we shall prove ourselves once more able to defend our island home, to ride out the storm of war, and to outlive the menace of tyranny if necessary for years, if necessary alone. At any rate, that is what we are going to try to do. That is the resolve of His Majesty's Government every man of them. That is the will of Parliament and the nation. The British Empire and the French Republic, linked together in their cause and in their need, will defend to the death their native soil, aiding each other like good comrades to the utmost of their strength. Even though large tracts of Europe and many old and famous States have fallen or may fall into the grip of the Gestapo and all the odious apparatus of Nazi rule, we shall not flag or fail. We shall go on to the end. We shall fight in France, we shall fight on the seas and oceans, we shall fight with growing confidence and growing strength in the air, we shall defend our island whatever the cost may be. We shall fight on the beaches, we shall fight on the landing grounds, we shall fight in the fields and in the streets, we shall fight in the hills. We shall never surrender, and if, which I do not for a moment believe, this island or a large part of it were subjugated and starving, then our Empire beyond the seas, armed and guarded by the British Fleet, would carry on the struggle, until, in God's good time, the New World, with all its power and might, steps forth to the rescue and the liberation of the old!

My father was like God. Busy elsewhere.

Do I have your, uh, permission, uh, to send, uh, an aircraft carrier to pick up the P-40 fighter planes we purchased from you? Mr. President?

Uh, but we paid for them. We-we paid for them with the money that we… that we borrowed from you.

I have nothing to offer but blood, toil, tears and sweat.

But now one bond unites us all. To wage war until victory is won, and never to surrender ourselves to servitude and shame. Whatever the cost and the agony may be, conquer we must, as conquer we shall.

There is no doubt that if we falter at all in the leading of the nation we should all be hurled out of office.

HOW DARE YOU! Our troops were chewing barbed wire in Flanders and I saw it! Opening a second front, outflanking the Turks was a serious military idea and it could have damn well worked if the Admirals and the First Sea Lord hadn't dithered away the element of surprise!

D'you know, I've never ridden a bus? I've never queued for bread. I believe I can boil an egg... but only because I've seen it done. The only time I tried riding the Underground was during the General Strike. Clemmie dropped me off at South Kensington station. I went down but got lost. I came straight back up! It was awful.

The German army controls every French port except Dunkirk here and Calais here to the west, where the garrison under Brigadier Nicholson is drawing fire and delaying the German advance on Dunkirk. At both points, our troops are encircled. Now, we are still trying to clear Dunkirk Harbor of wrecked ships so that we can then land the boats we need to get our-our boys off those beaches. But enemy aircraft is attacking us constantly. Our… our only hope in Dunkirk is thick cloud cover to thwart these attacks, but the skies remain clear. And even then, I am told we still need a-a-a miracle to get even 10% of our men out. Courage, Miss Layton. Courage.

I have crossed oceans of time to find you.

Do you believe in destiny? That even the powers of time can be altered for a single purpose? That the luckiest man who walks on this earth is the one who finds… true love?

Mina, to walk with me you must die to your breathing life and be reborn to mine.

Then, I give you life eternal. Everlasting love. The power of the storm. And the beasts of the earth. Walk with me to be my loving wife, forever.

I... love you too much to condemn you.

There is much to be learned from beasts.

Absinthe is the aphrodisiac of the self. The green fairy who lives in the absinthe wants your soul. But you are safe with me.

Listen to them: the children of the night. What sweet music they make.

I am the monster that breathing men would kill. I am Dracula.

I, who served the Cross. I, who commanded nations, hundreds of years before you were born.

I was betrayed. Look what your God has done to me!

I condemn you to living death. To eternal hunger for living blood.

The blood is the life… and it shall be mine.

Transylvania is not England. Our ways are not your ways. And to you there shall be many strange things.

Take care how you cut yourself. It is more dangerous than you think.

A foul bauble of man's vanity. Perhaps you should grow a beard.

The letters I requested, have you written them?

Good. Should you leave these rooms, you will not by any chance go to sleep in any other part of the castle. It is old and has many bad memories. Be warned.

Is this my reward for defending God's church?

I RENOUNCE GOD! I RENOUNCE HIM! I shall rise from my own death, to avenge hers with all the powers of darkness.

I shall rise from my own death, to avenge hers with all the powers of darkness.

You will, I trust, excuse me if I do not join you. But, I have already dined, and I never drink… wine.

The Order of the Dracul, the Dragon. An ancient society, pledging my forefathers to defend the church against all enemies of Christ. Their relationship was not entirely… successful.

It is no laughing matter! We Draculs have a right to be proud! What devil or witch was ever so great as Atilla, whose blood flows in these veins? Blood...

Is too precious a thing in these times. The war-like days are over. The victories of my great race are but a tale to be told. I am the last of my kind.

Renfield, you have betrayed me!

Your impotent men with their foolish shells cannot protect you from my power. I condemn you to living death. To eternal hunger for living blood.

You cannot capture a man's entire life in two hours. All you can hope is to leave the impression of one.

Irving, you are a literate man. You know the difference between communism and socialism. In socialism, everyone shares the wealth. In communism, everyone shares the poverty.

I hope, if this gets made, you'll forgive me.

I've got a great idea for a picture, Louis. A picture I just know you're gonna love. It's a modern day version of Quixote!

Now I know none of you read, but you know what it's about. A deluded old nobleman, who tilts at windmills. So how might we update this story?

How about we make our Quixote… a newspaperman? Who else could make a living tilting at windmills? But that's not enough… no, he wants more than readership. He wants more than adulation, he wants love. So, he runs for public office, and because he's notably rich, he wins… no, w-w-w-wait a minute. Notably rich and powerful, can't win over an audience unless notably rich and powerful sees the error of his ways in the final reel. Notably rich and powerful and making no goddamn excuses for it is only admirable in real life. Isn't that right, Louis?

So what do we do? Anybody? We give him ideals! Ideals that any dirt-poor, depression-weary audience can identify with. Our Quixote is against crooked trusts, he's for the eight-hour workday, fair income tax, better schools. Why, he's even for government ownership of railroads. And you know what we call those people?

No, our Quixote, he's a two-fisted muckraker. In fact, someone predicts that he will one day win the presidency and bring about, get this...

… a socialist revolution!

Is it? Tell him, Willie. Tell him.

Upton Sinclair used exactly those words to describe a young William Randolph Hearst.

How do you do?

Our Quixote, he hungers, he thirsts, he lusts for the voters to love him, love him enough to make him president, but they won't. And they don't. How do you suppose that could happen? Could it be because, in their hearts, they know he values power over people?

Disillusioned in Congress, he authors not one single piece of legislation in two terms. Can you believe that? That'll take some writing. Placed in nomination for president… it's too radical for the boys in the back, his bid goes nowhere! But we're doing something. We're building sympathy!

Rejected, he flees to lotus land, where his faithful troll, Sancho, has prepared a mythical kingdom for…

Wait a minute. I forgot the love interest! Her name: Dulcinea.

Funny, adventurous, smarter than she acts. Ah, she's a... she's a showgirl! Beneath his social stratum, but that's okay because true love on the big screens, we all know is blind. And she... well, she loves him, too. So he takes her away to his m-mythical kingdom,

can I get a bicarb?

Now, along comes nemesis, that's Greek for any guy in a black hat, nemesis runs for governor, and he's a shoo-in to win. Why?

Because he's EXACTLY what our Don used to be! An idealist, ya get it? And not only that, nemesis is the same guy who once predicted that our Quixote would one day preside over a socialist revolution. Our Quixote looks into the mirror of his youth and decides to break this glass, a maddening reminder of who he once was. Assisted by his faithful Sancho

and armed w-with all the black magic at his command, he does just this. Destroying, in the process, not one man... but two.

Well, what do ya think, Louis? Hm? Do ya think it'll play?

Don't worry, folks. The white wine came up with the fish!

If I ever go to the electric chair, I'd like him to be sitting in my lap.

Irving, you are the shrewdest executive in this town. Why are you acting like some dumb ward heeler? You don't need my donation. You don't need anybody's. You have everything it takes right here.

Meaning you can make the world swear King Kong is ten stories tall and Mary Pickford a virgin at 40. Yet you can't convince starving voters that a turncoat socialist is a menace to everything Californians hold dear? You're barely trying.

I've never not been fired.

It's not as unpleasant as you might imagine. You worry too much. What do you do for pleasure?

That, my friend, is the magic of the movies.

As Pascal once said, "If only I'd had more time, I would have written a shorter letter."

I want to talk about loyalty, Toby. Control recruited you, didn't he? He found you starving in a museum in Vienna, a wanted man. He saved your life, I heard. And yet, when the time came... when it came to picking sides between him and Alleline, you didn't hesitate. It's understandable, perhaps, with your war experience. You survived this long, I suppose, because of your ability to change sides, to serve any master.

We're not so different, you and I. We've both spent our lives looking for the weakness in one another's systems. Don't you think it's time to recognize there is as little worth on your side as there is on mine?

The man Alleline and the others meet is called Polyakov. You believe his role is to bring information from Witchcraft to you. His real role is to receive information from the mole, to take back to Karla.

Made possible, by you, in the house which you persuaded the Treasury to pay for.

It's just enough glitter amongst the chickenfeed. Control didn't believe in miracles, and he didn't believe in Witchcraft. But you were lazy, and you were greedy, and so you hounded him out of the Circus and you let Karla in. You've opened negotiations to exchange intelligence with the Americans…

What they tell the Circus, they'll be telling the Kremlin. Witchcraft's information, the "gold" Karla let you have, it wasn't to lure you. It was to lure the Americans. Now… do you want to take credit for that?

I met him once. Karla. In fifty-five. Moscow Centre was in pieces. Purge after purge. Half their agents were jumping ship and I traveled around signing them up. Hundreds of them. One of them was calling himself Gerstmann. He was on his way back to Russia, and we were pretty sure he was going to be executed. Plane had a twenty-four hour layover at Delhi, and that's how long I had to convince him to come over to us instead of going home to die. Little room. I'm sitting here... he's sitting there. The Americans had had him tortured. No fingernails. It's incredibly hot. I'm very tired and all I want to do is get this over with and get back home. Things weren't going well with Ann. I give him the usual pitch: come to the West and we can give you a comfortable life, after questioning. Or you can catch your plane and fly home and be shot. "Think of your wife. You have a wife, don't you? I brought you some cigarettes, by the way. Use my lighter. We could arrange for her to join you, we have a lot of stock to trade. If you go back, she'll be ostracized. Think of her. Think about how much she..." Kept harping on about the damn wife. Telling him more about me than... Should have walked out, of course, but for some reason it seemed important to save this one. So I go on. "We are not so very different, you and I. We've both spent our lives looking for the weaknesses in one another's systems. Don't you think it's time to recognize there is as little worth on your side as there is on mine?"... Never said a word. Not one word.

After today, Peter, they have to assume they're watching you. If there's anything you need tidied up, now's the time.

I need you to do something for me. You have to assume they're watching you...

What did you think of Control's theory?

We're doing everything we can.