Paul Giamatti Monologues

Life is like a henhouse ladder. Shitty and short.

There's nothing new in human experience, Mr. Tully. Each generation thinks it invented debauchery or suffering or rebellion, but man's every impulse and appetite from the disgusting to the sublime is on display right here all around you. So, before you dismiss something as boring or irrelevant, remember, if you truly want to understand the present or yourself, you must begin in the past. You see, history is not simply the study of the past. It is an explanation of the present.

Hardy, I have known you since you were a boy, so I think I have the requisite experience and insight to aver that you are and always have been penis cancer in human form.

I find the world a bitter and complicated place. And it seems to feel the same way about me. You and I have that in common, I think.

I guess I thought I could make a difference. I mean, I used to think I could prepare them for the world even a little. Provide standards and grounding like Dr. Greene always drilled into us. But, uh, the world doesn't make sense anymore. I mean, it's on fire. The rich don't give a shit. Poor kids are cannon fodder. Integrity is a punch line. Trust is just a name on a bank.

Do you think I want to be babysitting you? No. I was praying your mother would pick up the phone, or your father would arrive in a helicopter or a flying saucer...

You know, Mr. Kountze, for most people, life is like a henhouse ladder. Shitty and short. You were born lucky. Maybe someday, you entitled little degenerates will appreciate that. If you don't, I feel sorry for you and we will have failed to do our jobs.

You're not your father.

Because no one is his own father. I'm not my dad. No matter how hard he tried to beat that idea into me. I find the world a bitter and complicated place, and it seems to feel the same way about me. I think you and I have this in common. But don't get me wrong, you have your challenges. You're erratic and belligerant and gigantic pain in the balls, but you're not your father. You're your own man. Man, no. You're just a kid. You're just beginning. And you're smart. You've got time to turn things around. Yes, I know that Greeks had the idea that the steps you take to avoid your fate are the very steps that lead you to it, but that's just a literary conceit. In real life, your history does not have to dictate your destiny.

Well, there's a reliable disappointment.

Look, before we get started with any of this, you might as well know right off the bat. I had a vasectomy.

My name is Harvey Pekar - that's an unusual name - Harvey Pekar. 1960 was the year I got my first apartment and my first phone book. Now imagine my surprise when I looked up my name and saw that in addition to me, another Harvey Pekar was listed. Now I was listed as "Harvey L. Pekar", my middle name is Lawrence, and he was listed as "Harvey Pekar" therefore his was a - was a pure listing. Then in the '70s, I noticed that a third Harvey Pekar was listed in the phone book, now this filled me with curiousity. How can there be three people with such an unusual name in the world, let alone in one city? Then one day, a person I work with, expressed her sympathy with me, concerning what she thought, was the death of my father, and she pointed out an obituary notice in the newspaper for a man named Harvey Pekar. And one of his sons was named Harvey. And these were the other Harvey Pekar's. And six months later, Harvey Pekar Jr. died. And although I've met neither man, I was filled with sadness, 'what were they like?', I thought, it seemed that our lives had been linked in some indefineable way. But the story does not end there, for two years later, another 'Harvey Pekar' appeared in the phone book. Who are these people? Where do they come from? What do they do? What's in a name? Who is "Harvey Pekar"?

I've had enough bad experiences and growth to last me plenty. Right now, I'd be glad to trade some growth for happiness.

Man, listen, I'll tell you something, people are starting to know the name Crumb. And when you croak, man, you're gonna leave something behind.

Oh, come on, man. I'll tell you something, it sure beats working a gig like mine, being a nobody flunky and selling records on the side for a buck.

Man, she's got good looking handwriting.

Ever since I read your stuff, man, I been thinkin', I could write comic book stories that are different from anything that's being done. I figure, you know, that the guys that are doing animal comics and, eh, super hero stuff, they're really limited. 'Cause they got to try to appeal to kids. And underground stuff, like yours, have been really subversive and its opened things up politically. But, there's still plenty more to be done with them too, you know.

The words and pictures, they could be more of an art form. You know, like those French movies or, or, eh, or De Sica over in Italy. So, anyway, I just, I tried to, I tried to write you some stuff about - real life - you know, stuff that the everyman's got to deal with.

Yeah, I know I'm not as interesting as "The Little Mermaid" and all that magical crap.

Look Toby, the guys in that movie are not 28-year-old file clerks who live with their grandmothers in an ethnic ghetto. They didn't get their computers like you did, by trading in a bunch of box tops and $49.50 at the supermarket. Sure, go to the movies and daydream, but "Revenge of the Nerds" ain't reality. It's just Hollywood bullshit.

Uh, I don't know, I don't know. Um, it's a hard grape to grow, as you know. Right? It's uh, it's thin-skinned, temperamental, ripens early. It's, you know, it's not a survivor like Cabernet, which can just grow anywhere and uh, thrive even when it's neglected. No, Pinot needs constant care and attention. You know? And in fact it can only grow in these really specific, little, tucked away corners of the world. And, and only the most patient and nurturing of growers can do it, really. Only somebody who really takes the time to understand Pinot's potential can then coax it into its fullest expression. Then, I mean, oh its flavors, they're just the most haunting and brilliant and thrilling and subtle and... ancient on the planet.

I'm finished. I'm not a writer, I'm a middle school English teacher. Well, the world doesn't give a shit what I have to say. I'm unnecessary. Ha! I'm so insignificant I can't even kill myself.

Come on, man. You know. Hemingway, Sexton, Plath, Woolf. You can't kill yourself before you're even published!

Half my life is over and I have nothing to show for it. Nothing. I'm a thumbprint on the window of a skyscraper. I'm a smudge of excrement on a tissue surging out to sea with a million tons of raw sewage.

It tastes like the back of a fucking L.A. school bus. Now they probably didn't de-stem, hoping for some semblance of concentration, crushed it up with leaves and mice, and then wound up with this rancid tar and turpentine bullshit. Fuckin' Raid.

Explain the situation? Yes. 'Excuse me, sir, my friend was the one balling your wife couple of hours ago. Really sorry. He seems to have left his wallet behind. I was wondering if I come in, just poke around, I don't know'

Let me show you how this is done. First thing, hold the glass up and examine the wine against the light. You're looking for color and clarity. Just, get a sense of it. OK? Uhh, thick? Thin? Watery? Syrupy? OK? Alright. Now, tip it. What you're doing here is checking for color density as it thins out towards the rim. Uhh, that's gonna tell you how old it is, among other things. It's usually more important with reds. OK? Now, stick your nose in it. Don't be shy, really get your nose in there. Mmm... a little citrus... maybe some strawberry...

... passion fruit...

... and, oh, there's just like the faintest soupçon of like asparagus and just a flutter of a, like a, nutty Edam cheese...

Yeah, right. Yup, I'm a homo. Yeah. Yeah. Just make up whatever you want and that's what happened. Okay? Write out my gay confession and I'll sign it. Okay? Just stop pushing me all the time. You're an infant, Jack. This is all a big party for you... but not for me.

Victoria and I used to like this view. You know, once we had a picnic here. We drank a '95 Opus One with smoked salmon and artichokes. But, we didn't care. Oh, man, she has the best palate of any woman I've ever known. She could even differentiate all different kinds of Italian wines.

Yeah, I know. You told me. I'm all right with it.

A little citrus. Maybe some strawberry. Mmm. Passion fruit, mmm, and, oh, there's just like the faintest soupçon of like, uh, asparagus, and, there's a, just a flutter of, like a, like a nutty Edam cheese.

Mrnmm, yeah… but not really. It shifts around a lot. Like you also start to see everything from the point of view of the father. And some other stuff happens, some parallel narrative, and then it evolves - or devolves - into a kind of a Robbe-Grillet mystery - with no real resolution.

This week is not about me. It is about you. I'm gonna show you a good time. We're gonna drink a lot of good wine. We're gonna play some golf. We're gonna eat some great food and enjoy the scenery and we are going to send you off in style, mon frere.

You see, the reason that this region is so good for pinot, is that the cold air off the Pacific flows in at night and it just cools down the berries. Pinot's a very thin-skinned grape. It doesn't like constant heat or humidity. Very delicate.

Do yourself a favor. Get out, now. While you still can. Go into entertainment or business, go open a fucking restaurant in Costa Rica. Anything. Do something that's gonna make you happy, okay? Cause you stay in this business long enough, you're going to get jaded and cynical.

You exude something. You draw people in. All the reporters love you. Even the ones that hate you love you. 'Cause you play them like the pieces on a chessboard and make it look effortless. And we both know how hard it is constantly being on guard, weighing every word, every move. But from the outside, you make it look easy. People are scared of you. 'Cause they don't understand how you do it, and they love you for it. And that is the most valuable thing in this business. The ability to win people's respect by making them mistake their fear for love.

You know, I'm trying to remember if the Democrats have ever nominated an atheist before.

Eisenheim, I don't want to arrest you. I'm a cynical man, God knows… but if your manifestations are somehow real… then even I'm willing to admit, you're a very special person. And if it's a trick, then it's equally impressive. Either way, you have a gift. So don't make me put you in jail!

As you know… we some times follow Duchess Von Teschen for her protection… Yesterday she was seen in the company of another man…

In the name of his Imperial Majesty in the city of Vienna, I hereby arrest Edward Abramovich, also known as Eisenheim The Illusionist, on charges of disturbing public order, charlatanism and threats against the empire.

As a boy, I'm told, he had a chance encounter with a travelling magician. One version of the story was that the man himself vanished... along with the tree. People began to think he had some sort of special power... or at least that he was a bit different. And then he met her.

You know, I have seen things like this before… but never one like that.