MANHATTAN MURDER MYSTERY (USA 1993) (WOODY ALLEN)

[They're in the elevator and it stops; Larry is a world-renowned claustrophobic]
CAROL: Didn't I tell you the police weren't thorough? I mean they probably thought we were cranks, right? I mean, we got no body, and...I mean, they
must get fifty crisis calls a minute. Why would they bother with us?
LARRY: I don't know. I just know, this is very deep stuff.
CAROL: Just...
LARRY: We should not be here. I'm scared, this is creepy. You know what I mean? This goes...this could be...Who knows who's involved in this? This
could go very deep, Carol. This could be like, you know, like with the Warren commission, or something. I don't like it.
CAROL: Oh, not the Warren Commission. Oh, my God!
LARRY: Jesus. What is that?
CAROL: Wait a minute. Okay, all right, now look. All right. The-the elevator's probably stuck.
LARRY: Why are we stopping? Why are we stopping?
CAROL: Relax now, Larry.
LARRY: Don't tell me to relax! I'm-I'm-I'm a-a world-renowned claustrophobic.
CAROL: It's okay. It's okay, everything's going to be fine.
LARRY: Stop. Hit something.
CAROL: I am hitting it.
LARRY: I don't like this, I don't, I don't...
CAROL: I know, I know. It's okay.
LARRY: It's easy for you to say, but I can't breath, I'm phobic.
CAROL: The-the idea is, there's plenty of air, in this elevator. Uh, Larry, relax. Now, if you just don't panic, okay? Don't panic, all right?
LARRY: I'm not panicking, I'm not panicking, I'm...
CAROL: Now, just don't worry.
LARRY: I'm just going to say the rosary, now.
CAROL: Somebody'll help us. Somebody's gonna help us. Somebody'll find us here. Hello!
LARRY: Oh, I don't know, I don't like this.
CAROL: Hello!
LARRY: Say something. Stop it.
CAROL: Hallo. Hallo!
LARRY: I don't like this.
CAROL: Oh, God, look just...
LARRY: I'm running over a field, I see open meadows. I see a stallion.
CAROL: Yes, it's...
LARRY: I'm a stallion.
CAROL: Shh. Shut up, Larry.
LARRY: There's-There's a cool breeze passing over me.
CAROL: Larry, just shut up and calm down. Just, okay? You're gonna be o...
LARRY: I see grass. I see dirt.
CAROL: Larry, shut up! Hallo! Hallo!
LARRY: You know, you said, you said, "Act as a policeman".
CAROL: I know, yeah.
LARRY: I said "No". You said "Pretend to be a policeman". You said “Show him your card”. I said “What card”.
CAROL: Okay, wait a minute. I know what. Here, just... Larry, boost me up.
LARRY: You know, I ca...
CAROL: Boost me up, and we'll get out there. We're gonna do it.
LARRY: I can't get through those things.
CAROL: Yeah. Yes we can. I can do it. I can loosen it.
LARRY: It'll never open, they're painted shut.
CAROL: No, wait. No, Larry.
LARRY: They're-They're... They-They never, they... they never open.
CAROL: Come on. All right, put your hand together. Come on. Put your hand together.
LARRY: I'm breathing.
CAROL: No, no, it's okay.
LARRY: I can't breathe. I can't breathe.
CAROL: Larry!
LARRY: I can't breathe. I can't breathe.
CAROL: Larry, I mean, it's just... All I have to do is loosen that, okay.
LARRY: I'm fainting because the-there's...
CAROL: All right, put your hand together. Put you hand together. Now give me a boost, okay?
LARRY: Oh, Jesus.
CAROL: All right, you ready? Wait a second! Wait, wait!
LARRY: Oh, Jesus, you've got to cut down on those rich desserts.
CAROL: Oh, wait a minute, now! Oh, just wait. Wait, wait.
LARRY: Let's go, my life is passing in front of my eyes. The worst part of it is, I'm driving a used car.
CAROL: Okay, now you'd think they'd loosen this stupid thing.
LARRY: I'm scared.
CAROL: Oh, my God!
LARRY: Oh, my God. It's her.
CAROL: So that's where he hid her.
LARRY: Oh, Jesus. Claustrophobia and a dead body. This is a neurotic's jackpot.
CAROL: Oh! Oh, Larry, hold on. I'm scared.
LARRY: We're going down.
CAROL: Oh, God. What's happening?
LARRY: We're going down.
CAROL: Oh, God, press up! Press up!
LARRY: Press up? I can't see my hand. How can I press up? Jesus.
CAROL: We must be heading for the basement, Larry.
LARRY: The basement. I want to get off in the mezzanine. I'm returning shoes. It's dark in here.
CAROL: What? What are you doing?
LARRY: Where are you... I'm getting back on the elevator. I don't care.
CAROL: I don't know where... Larry.
LARRY: I-I can't see anything.
CAROL: There's nothing out there. Wait a minute. What are you doing? Hey, what are you doing with matches?
LARRY: Th-Th-These are my matches. I got them at...
CAROL: Wait a minute, what... When were you at the Cafè des Artistes?
LARRY: Look. I got... Yeah, I was with an author. An authoress. At-at the... At...
CAROL: At the Cafè des Artistes?
LARRY: Yeah, b... A French, a French authoress. An author.
CAROL: Wait.
LARRY: Jesus.
CAROL: Try this way.
LARRY: I like a basement with-with knotty pine and a pool table. You know, where you can...
CAROL: Hey, look, look, look, look. Uh-huh.
LARRY: What? What?
CAROL: What's this?
LARRY: I... No, wait a minute. Not so fast. I don't like it here, it's dank.
CAROL: All right.
LARRY: And there's strange noises. I don't know what this is. I don't know. This... Oh, Jesus!
CAROL: Calm down.
LARRY: Calm down? Don't tell me to calm down.
CAROL: There. Turn the light on.
LARRY: This... Wh-Wh... I-I don't... What do you...
CAROL: Let me see. Where... There. Oh. We're locked in here. What are you gonna do?
LARRY: Oh, relax, relax, relax. Don't... I'll break it down. Stand back.
CAROL: Careful, now.
LARRY: Don't worry. Just-Just give me a second.
CAROL: Don't hurt yourself.
LARRY: Must be one of those new doors.
CAROL: Let's try out here.
LARRY: Oh, my god. I keep hearing noises.
CAROL: Oh. What's down there?
LARRY: Where? Where you... Where are you going? Don't leave me.
CAROL: Let me see. It's okay. What? Oh! Yeah. I think this is it. I think this is the service entrance.
LARRY: Well, come on.
CAROL: I'm trying.
LARRY: Come on, get it open.
CAROL: I got it. I got it.
LARRY: Go into a trot.

From http://torp.priv.no/woody/scripts/mmm.txt

Folsom Prison Blues

I hear the train a comin´
it´s rolling round the bend
and I ain´t seen the sunshine since I don´t know when,
I´m stuck in Folsom prison, and time keeps draggin´ on
but that train keeps a rollin´ on down to San Anton..
When I was just a baby my mama told me. Son,
always be a good boy, don´t ever play with guns.
But I shot a man in Reno just to watch him die
When I hear that whistle blowing, I hang my head and cry..

I bet there´s rich folks eating in a fancy dining car
they´re probably drinkin´ coffee and smoking big cigars.
Well I know I had it coming, I know I can´t be free
but those people keep a movin´
and that´s what tortures me...

Well if they´d free me from this prison,
if that railroad train was mine
I bet I´d move just a little further down the line
far from Folsom prison, that's where I want to stay
and I´d let that lonesome whistle blow my blues away.....

- Johnny Cash

Bunbury

[...]

Jack. My dear Algy, I don’t know whether you will be able to understand my real motives. You are hardly serious enough. When one is placed in the position of guardian, one has to adopt a very high moral tone on all subjects. It’s one’s duty to do so. And as a high moral tone can hardly be said to conduce very much to either one’s health or one’s happiness, in order to get up to town I have always pretended to have a younger brother of the name of Ernest, who lives in the Albany, and gets into the most dreadful scrapes. That, my dear Algy, is the whole truth pure and simple.

Algernon. The truth is rarely pure and never simple. Modern life would be very tedious if it were either, and modern literature a complete impossibility!

Jack. That wouldn’t be at all a bad thing.

Algernon. Literary criticism is not your forte, my dear fellow. Don’t try it. You should leave that to people who haven’t been at a University. They do it so well in the daily papers. What you really are is a Bunburyist. I was quite right in saying you were a Bunburyist. You are one of the most advanced Bunburyists I know.

Jack. What on earth do you mean?

Algernon. You have invented a very useful younger brother called Ernest, in order that you may be able to come up to town as often as you like. I have invented an invaluable permanent invalid called Bunbury, in order that I may be able to go down into the country whenever I choose. Bunbury is perfectly invaluable. If it wasn’t for Bunbury’s extraordinary bad health, for instance, I wouldn’t be able to dine with you at Willis’s to-night, for I have been really engaged to Aunt Augusta for more than a week.

Jack. I haven’t asked you to dine with me anywhere to-night.

Algernon. I know. You are absurdly careless about sending out invitations. It is very foolish of you. Nothing annoys people so much as not receiving invitations.

[...]

(in The Importance of Being Earnest, by Oscar Wilde)