John Cusack: Martin Q. Blank

Grosse Pointe Blank

Martin Q. Blank

[Talking to his psychiatrist about going to his high school reunion]
Marty: They all have husbands and wives and children and houses and dogs, and, you know, they've all made themselves a part of something and they can talk about what they do. What am I gonna say? "I killed the president of Paraguay with a fork. How've you been?"

Marty: A thousand innocent people get killed every day! But a millionaire's pet gets detonated, and you're marked for life.

Martin Q. Blank: Don't you think that maybe you're just upset because I told you what I do for a living, and you got upset and *you're* letting it interfere with *our* dynamic?
Dr. Oatman: Whoa. Martin. You didn't tell me what you did for a living...
Martin Q. Blank: Yes, I did!
Dr. Oatman: You didn't tell me what you did for a living for *four* sessions. *Then* you told me. And I said, "I don't want to work with you any more." And yet, you come back each week at the same time. That's a difficulty for me. On top of that, if you've committed a crime or you're thinking about committing a crime, I have to tell the authorities.
Martin Q. Blank: I know the law, okay? But I don't want to be withholding; I'm very serious about this process.
[pause]
Martin Q. Blank: And I know where you live.
Dr. Oatman: Oh, now see? That wasn't a nice thing to say; that wasn't designed to make me feel good. That's a... kind of a... not too subtle intimidation, and I, uh, get filled with anxiety when you talk about something like that.
Martin Q. Blank: Come on, come on. I was just kidding, all right? The thought never crossed my mind.
Dr. Oatman: You did think of it, Martin! You thought it, and then you said it. And now, I'm left with the aftermath of that, thinking I gotta be creative in a really interesting way or Martin's gonna blow my brains out! You're holding me hostage. That's not right.

[repeated line]
Marty: If I show up at your door, chances are you did something to bring me there.

Debi: [about the man Martin killed at the reunion] He was trying to kill you, right?
Marty: Yes.
Debi: It wasn't the other way around?
Marty: No.
Debi: Is it something you've done?
Marty: It's something I do... professionally, for about five years now.
[He lifts the gun in his hand]
Debi: [Gasps] You were joking! People joke about the horrible things they *don't* do, they don't *do* them! It's absurd!
Marty: When I left, I joined the Army, and when I took the service exam, my psych profile fit a certain... "moral flexibility" would be the only way to describe it. I was loaned out to a CIA-sponsored program and we sort of found each other. That's the way it works.
Debi: So, you're a government spook?
Marty: Yes, I mean no. I was before but I'm not now... but that' all irrelevant, really. The idea of government, nations is public relations theory at this point.
Debi: Don't. I don't wanna hear about the theories. I wanna hear about the dead people. Explain the dead people.
Marty: Well, that's very complicated.

Mr. Newberry: Did I have you figured wrong?
Marty: I don't know - I mean, I hope so.
Mr. Newberry: I visualized you in a haze as one of those slackster, flannel-wearing, coffee-house misanthropes I've been seeing in "Newsweek."
Marty: No no no, I went the other road. Six figures, doing business with leadpipe cruelty, mercenary sensibility. You know - sports, sex, no real relationships with anybody. How about you, how have the years been treating you?
Mr. Newberry: Well, you know me, Martin. Still the same old sell-out, exploiting the oppressed...
Marty: Sure.
Mr. Newberry: "Ah, what a piece of work is man, how noble..." ah, fuck it. Let's have a drink and forget the whole damn thing.

Debi: You're a psychopath.
Marty: No, no. Psychopaths kill for no reason. I kill for *money*. It's a *job*. That didn't come out right.

Martin Q. Blank: You must've done some *naughty* shit there, Bart.
[flips dossier over to him]
Martin Q. Blank: There's a contract out on your life. Believe me. I was hired to kill you, but I'm not going to do it. It's either because I'm in love with your daughter or because I have a newfound respect for life.
Mr. Grocer: [following in van] That punk is either in love with that guy's daughter or he has a newfound respect for life.
Mr. Newberry: [after reading dossier] My whole life!
Martin Q. Blank: Hopefully not.

Martin Q. Blank: [Leaving a message on Dr. Oatman's machine] Dr. Oatman, please pick up, pick up! It's Martin Blank! I, I'm standing where my, uh, living room was and it's not here because my house is gone and it's an Ultimart! You can never go home again, Oatman... but I guess you can shop there.

Marty: [at the end of a running gun battle] You don't need to answer right now, but Debi, will you marry me?
Mr. Newberry: [pokes his head up from the bathtub] You got my blessing!

Debi: You know what you need?
Marty: What?
Debi: Shakabuku.
Marty: You wanna tell me what that means?
Debi: It's a swift, spiritual kick to the head that alters your reality forever.
Marty: Oh, that'd be good. I think.

Marty: [after shooting a guy three times and bashing his head in with a skillet] Debi, I'm in love with you! And I know we can make this relationship work.

Marcella: Sir, they're very unhappy.
Martin Q. Blank: I'm very unhappy.
Marcella: It was supposed to look like a heart attack! He was supposed to die in his sleep!
Martin Q. Blank: Well, he moved.

[practicing in a mirror before his high school reunion]
Marty: Hi. I'm, uh, I'm a pet psychiatrist. I sell couch insurance. Mm-hmm, and I - and I test-market positive thinking. I lead a weekend men's group, we specialize in ritual killings. Yeah, you look great! God, yeah! Hi, how are you? Hi, how are you? Hi, I'm Martin Blank, you remember me? I'm not married, I don't have any kids, but I'd blow your head off if someone paid me enough.

Debi: You're a fucking *psycho*.
Marty: Don't rush to judgment on something like that until all the facts are in.