Brendan Fraser: Adam

Blast from the Past

Adam

Eve: What kind of wife are you looking for?
Adam: Oh um, well... one who's not a mutant.
Eve: [laughs] No dogs, huh. OK. Cool.
Adam: And if it's possible, I'd like to marry someone from Pasadena.
Eve: [laughs] Um, when do you need her by?
Adam: Two weeks?
Eve: Well, I can probably get you laid in two weeks, but to locate a non-mutant wife from Pasadena takes some time.
Adam: That's what I was afraid of.

Adam: Uh, Eve, this is Adam. Look, I just wanted to thank you for everything you did for me. And I wanted to tell you that I... that, uh... that I wish so many good things for you. I wish so hard that all of your dreams come true, and... and that's all I... and that's all.

Adam: Say, mom?
Helen: Yes, dear?
Adam: I was wondering, you know, while I was up there and all, I was thinking, well, you know, I was wondering if maybe I could meet a girl? I've been thinking about that a little. Just these last fifteen years or so.
Helen: Oh, Adam, it would be wonderful if you could meet a girl. One who's not a mutant and hopefully comes from Pasadena. Nothing against Valley girls but, in my day anyhow, girls from Pasadena, I don't know, just always seemed a little bit nicer.

[Adam, Eve and Troy are at the club, looking for a girlfriend for Adam. Adam spots a lovely young woman]
Adam: How about her?
Eve: No way.
Adam: No way? Why not? I, I think she's very attractive.
Eve: Adam! She's got 'bitch' written all over her. You do know what 'bitch' means, don't you?
Adam: [nodding] Well, well, yes, I do. I do have a dictionary. But I can't understand for the life of me why you would say that about her. Or why Cliff would say that about *you*!
[Troy stifles a laugh; Eve glares at him and then at Adam]

[Adam is rehearsing Troy's advice as he approaches a young woman whom Troy thinks looks "sweet."]
Adam: Surprising, yet funny.
[Adam recalls his father's silly joke]
Adam: Well, I know a duck who bought some lip balm.
Adam: [nods to himself] Lie.
[he approaches Miss Sweet]
Adam: Hi.
[she looks him up and down, appraising, but replies disdainfully]
Miss 'Sweet', at Club 40: Yes?
Adam: I was wondering if you could help me? I, um...
[she looks at him with definite disdain]
Adam: ...seem to have lost my Congressional Medal of Honor around here... somewhere.
Miss 'Sweet', at Club 40: [bursts into laughter] Now, that's a great one!

Eve: Where are you parked?
Adam: I came on a bus.
Eve: Why does that not surprise me.
Adam: I dunno. Why doesn't that sunrise you?
Eve: Well, I guess because I'm a little psychic. I have this thing.
Adam: Oh, that's nice.
Eve: Yeah, let me guess something. This is your first visit to La-La-Land. You're staying somewhere in Hollywood because like an idiot you thought that would be an exciting place to stay. Am I right so far?
Adam: So far?
Eve: Yes, I'm right?
Adam: Right.
Eve: I knew it. So anyhow, you get on a bus and before you know it you're stuck in the San Fernando Valley without a clue, which brings us to here. Correct again?
Adam: Again.
Eve: Where are you staying? The Holiday Inn.
Adam: Oh. Yes! Yes! The Holiday Inn. That's exactly right.
Eve: See, I'm psychic. I mean not completely but pretty much. Pretty good, huh?
Adam: No, that was amazing!
Eve: Yeah I know. Thanks.

Adam: [Adam is with his parents at the new house] Dad, I don't know how to tell you this. And I was going to wait a while, but I think... Dad, there was no bomb. A plane crashed into our backyard. I looked it up in old newspapers.
Calvin: You're sure?
Adam: Positive. The Soviet Union collapsed without a shot being fired. The Cold War is over.
Calvin: That's what everybody believes?
Adam: Yes, sir. It's true.
Calvin: What? Did the Politburo just one day say, "We give up?"
Adam: Yes. That's kind of how it was.
Calvin: Uh-huh.
Calvin: My gosh, those Commies are brilliant! You've got to hand it to 'em! "No, we didn't drop any bombs! Oh yes, our evil empire has collapsed! Poor, poor us!" I bet they've even asked the West for aid! Right?
Adam: Uh, I think they have.
Calvin: Hah! Those cagey rascals! Those sly dissemblers! Those, uh... They've finally pulled the wool over everybody's eyes!

[the doors have unlocked, and Helen and Adam are thrilled; Calvin slightly less so]
Adam: Do we just go on up?
Calvin: No, son. Now is the time we must be at our most cautious. We wait for night.
Helen: Oh, shit!
[Helen, realizing Adam has heard her, immediately covers her mouth]
Calvin: Helen Thomas Webber! Maybe we have been down here a little too long. Pardon her French, son.
Adam: "Shit" is French?
Calvin: [uncomfortably] Well, it's archaic French. It's a sixteenth-century colloquialism, meaning, roughly, good.
Helen: Your father's right.
Adam: Well. Shit!