Jason Schwartzman: Albert Markovski

I Heart Huckabees

Albert Markovski

Vivian Jaffe: Have you ever transcended space and time?
Albert Markovski: Yes. No. Uh, time, not space... No, I don't know what you're talking about.

Albert Markovski: No, I'm not. I'm talking about not covering every square inch with houses and strip malls until you can't remember what happens when you stand in a meadow at dusk.
Bret: What happens in the meadow at dusk?
Albert Markovski: Everything!
Mrs. Hooten: Nothing!
Albert Markovski: Everything.
Mrs. Hooten: Nothing!
Albert Markovski: Everything!
Mrs. Hooten: Nothing!
Albert Markovski: It's beautiful.
Tommy Corn: It's beautiful.

Albert Markovski: Nobody sits like this rock sits. You rock, rock. The rock just sits and is. You show us how to just sit here and that's what we need.

[first lines]
Albert Markovski: [Blurry shot of tree]
[Albert's thoughts are voiced aloud to us, but not the audience on camera]
Albert Markovski: Mother-fucking, cocksucker, mother-fucking, shit-fucker, what am I doing?
[Albert walks out from behind tree, towards camera. As he gets closer to the camera the scene comes into focus]
Albert Markovski: What am I doing? I don't know what I'm doing. I'm doing the best that I can. I know that's all I can ask of myself. Is that good enough? Is my work doing any good? Is anybody paying attention? Is it hopeless to try and change things? The African guy is a sign, right? Because if he isn't than nothing in this world makes any sense to me; I'm fucked. Maybe I should quit. Don't quit. Maybe I should just fucking quit. Don't fucking quit. Just, I don't know what the fuck I'm supposed to do anymore. Fucker. Fuck. Shit.
[Albert stops walking and begins speech about saving a piece of the marsh]

Tommy Corn: Ah, here he comes!
Albert Markovski: Oh, boy.
Tommy Corn: The man-poet who banged France's dark lady of philosophy. The parking lot crusader of truth... who turned his back on his other like a cold-blooded gangsta.

[last lines]
Tommy Corn: What are you doing tomorrow?
Albert Markovski: I was thinking about chaining myself to a bulldozer. Do you want to come?
Tommy Corn: What time?
Albert Markovski: Mmm, 1, 1:30.
Tommy Corn: Sounds good. Should I bring my own chains?
Albert Markovski: We always do.

Albert Markovski: Brad, I've thought about chopping your head off with a machete many times.
Brad Stand: I've though about hacking you up with an axe Albert, and smashing your face in with a baseball bat.

Mrs. Hooten: Albert, what brought you to the philosophical club?
Albert Markovski: You mean the existential detectives?
Mr. Hooten: Sounds like a support group.
Cricket: Why can't he use the church?
Mrs. Hooten: Sometimes, people have additional questions to be answered.
Cricket: Like what?
Albert Markovski: Well, um, for instance: if the forms of this world die, which is more real, the me that dies or the me that's infinite? Can I trust my habitual mind, or do I need to learn to look beneath those things?
Mr. Hooten: Sounds like we got a philosopher.

[first lines]
Albert Markovski: Motherfucking cocksucker motherfucking shit fucker what am I doing? What am I doing? I don't know what I'm doing. I'm doing the best that I can. I know that's all I can ask of myself. Is that good enough? Is my work doing any good? Is anybody paying attention? Is it hopeless to try and change things? The African guy is a sign, right? Because if he isn't, than nothing in this world makes any sense to me. I'm fucked! Maybe I should quit. Don't quit! Maybe I should just fucking quit. Don't fucking quit! I don't know what the fuck I'm supposed to fucking do anymore! Fucker! Fuck shit!

Albert Markovski: [about the body bag exercise] I can't go back in there. It's all hating faces that I have to chop up with a machete!

Vivian Jaffe: Why don't you just tell me what your situation is?
Albert Markovski: Look, I'm not really sure I know exactly what you guys do around here, all right?
Vivian Jaffe: Well, we'll investigate and solve your case.
Albert Markovski: How?
Vivian Jaffe: If you start a contact we'll follow you.
Albert Markovski: You'll spy?
Vivian Jaffe: Yes.
Albert Markovski: On me?
Vivian Jaffe: Yes.
Albert Markovski: Will you be spying on me in the bathroom?
Vivian Jaffe: Yes.
Albert Markovski: In the bathroom?
Vivian Jaffe: Yes.
Albert Markovski: Why?
Vivian Jaffe: There's nothing too small. You know when police find the slightest piece of DNA and build a case on it? If we might see you floss or masturbate that could be the key till your entire reality.

Bernard Jaffe: At the photo archive, you spent a lot of time Iooking at old Jessica Lange bathing suit stills, why?
Albert Markovski: That's only because Lange comes before Markovski. I was putting my head shots under Markovski, and then "L" is right before it. I might've looked at a little bit of Lange on the way out. What's the big deal?
Bernard Jaffe: Albert, baby, come on.
Albert Markovski: What, is it a crime? Is it a crime to look at Lange?
Vivian Jaffe: Have you ever been in love?
Albert Markovski: What kind of question is that?
Vivian Jaffe: Do you even believe in love?
Bernard Jaffe: Or, do you only have fantasy relationships because anything else would be too painful?

[last lines]
Tommy Corn: [Albert and Tommy sitting on marsh rock] What are you doing tomorrow?
Albert Markovski: I was thinking about chaining myself to a bulldozer. Do you want to come?
Tommy Corn: What time?
Albert Markovski: Mm, one, one-thirty.
Tommy Corn: Sounds good. Should I bring my own chains?
Albert Markovski: We always do.
[Scene goes blurry. Tommy hits Albert in the face with the big orange ball and then hits himself in the face with it]