How could this happen? I was so careful. I picked the wrong play, the wrong director, the wrong cast. Where did I go right?
You have exactly ten seconds to change that look of disgusting pity into one of enormous respect!
A flop! That’s putting it mildly. We’ve found a disaster, a catastrophe, an outrage! A guaranteed-to-close-in-one-night beauty. This is freedom from want forever. This is a house in the country. This is a Rolls Royce and a Bentley. This is wine, women, and song… and women.
You’re an accountant! You’re in a noble profession! The word “count” is part of your title!
Bloom, I’m drowning. Other men sail through life, Bialystock has struck a reef. Bloom, I’m going under. I’m condemned by a society that demands success when all I can offer is failure. Bloom, I’m reaching out to you. Don’t send me to prison… HEEELLP!
This pin used to hold a pearl the size of your eye. Look at me now, LOOK AT ME NOW! I’m wearing a cardboard belt!
And may I humbly add, your Honor, that we’ve learned our lesson. And we’ll never do it again.
That’s exactly why we want to produce this play. To show the world the true Hitler, the Hitler you loved, the Hitler you knew, the Hitler with a song in his heart.
Don’t you see, darling Bloom, glorious Bloom? It’s so simple. STEP ONE: We find the worst play ever written, a surefire flop. STEP TWO: I raise a million bucks. Lots of little old ladies out there. STEP THREE: You go back to work on the books, two of them – one for the government, one for us. You can do it, Bloom; you’re a wizard! STEP FOUR: We open on Broadway. And before you can say STEP FIVE, we close on Broadway! STEP SIX: We take our million bucks and fly to Rio!
Max Bialystock is launching himself into little old lady land.
There it is, Bloom. The most exciting city in the world. Thrills, adventure, romance. Everything you ever dreamed of is down there. Big black limousines. Gold cigarette cases. Elegant ladies with long legs. All you need is money, Bloom. Money is honey! Money is honey!
I used to have thousands of investors begging, pleading to put their money in a Max Bialystock production. Look at my investors now: Voila, hundreds of little old ladies stopping off at Max Bialystock’s office to grab a last thrill on the way to the cemetery.
I assume you’re making those cartoon noises to attract my attention. Am I correct in my assumption, you fish-faced enemy of the people?
I assume you are making those cartoon noises because you want to attract my attention. What is it, you fish-faced enemy of the people?
It’s gorgeous! It’s gorgeous! You couldn’t have picked a better color! It brings out your eyes! Let’s face it, Roger, that dress is you!
You miserable, cowardly, wretched, little caterpillar. Don’t you ever want to become a butterfly? Don’t you want to spread your wings and flap your way to glory?
You see my dear Bloom, phase one is complete — the play is ours. We are now entering phase two — the raising of the money. In the days to come, you will see very little of me, for Max Bialystock is launching himself into little-old-lady-land. Adieu.
Avanti!
