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BRAZIL
(1985)
directed by Terry Gilliam

It's only a state of mind.



♠ WALLPAPER

for 1024 x 768 and 800 x 600


SLIDE SHOW


♠ SCREENSHOTS



A squash that starts it all



That's your receipt for your husband. Thank you. And this is my receipt for your receipt.



Mr. Kurtzmann: Where the hell is Sam Lowry?



               Brazil, where hearts were entertained in June,
               We stood beneath an amber moon,
               And softly murmured 'Some day soon'
               We kissed and clung together,
               Then, tomorrow was another day.
               The morning found me miles away,
               With still a million things to say;
               Now, when twilight beams the sky above,
               Recalling thrills of our love,
               There's one thing I'm certain of,
               Return, I will,
               To old Brazil.



Sam... Sam...!



Sam: I don't want promotion. I don't want anything.
Sam's mother: Don't be childish, Samuel. Of course, you want something. You must have hopes, wishes, dreams.
Sam: No, nothing. Not even dreams!



Kurtzman: It's your mother, isn't it? Pulling strings again.



Kurtzman: Dead! Oh no! That's terrible! We'll never get rid of the damned thing!
Sam: . . . Drive out to Mrs Buttle, give her the cheque, tell her to sign her name on the back, cash it at the corner sweet shop.
Kurtzman: That's brilliant!
Sam: . . . I'll do it for you.
. . .
Kurtzman: Oh God! I think I've broken a bone. What a pathetic thing I am.



Kurtzman: Is it all right about Mrs Buttle's cheque?
Sam: I delivered it.
Kurtzman: Can I forget it?
Sam: Yes.
Kurtzman: What a relief! I shall probably have nightmares.






Shirley: Salt?



Sam: Mr. Helpmann, I'm keen to get into Information Retrieval. Mr. Helpmann, I'm dying to get at this woman... no, no, no.



Sam: My name's Lowry. Sam Lowry. I've been told to report to Mr. Warrenn.
Dawson: Thirtieth floor, sir. You're expected.
Sam: Um... don't you want to search me?
Dawson: No, sir.
Sam: Do you want to see my ID?
Dawson: No need, sir.
Sam: But I could be anybody.
Dawson: No, you couldn't, sir. This is Information Retrieval.



Mr. Warren: Your very own number... on your very own door ... and behind that door... your very own office. Congratulations, DZ/015, welcome to the team.



Typist: Can I help you?
Earphone: Oooooooh ... aaaaaahhh ... please ...arrrrrghhhh no ... please ... Oh God, No ... No, stop, I don't know ...
Sam: I'm looking for Officer 412/L.
Typist: I'm sure he won't be long now . . . I thought so! You can go in now.



Sam: Remember me to Alison - and the - er - twins.
Jack Lint: Triplets.
Sam: Really? - God, how time flies!
. . .
Sam: Tell me about Layton.
Jack Lint: She witnessed the Tuttle arrest - the Buttle arrest - and since then she's been making wild allegations, obviously trying to exploit the situation - she's working for somebody, and she's not working for us.



Sam: Excuse me, Dawson, can you put me through to Mr. Helpmann's office?
Dawson: I'm afraid I can't sir. You have to go through the proper channels.
Sam: And you can't tell me what the proper channels are, because that's classified information?
Dawson: I'm glad to see the Ministry's continuing its tradition of recruiting the brightest and best, sir.



Sam: Sam Lowry. Hello. This sounds insane, I know, but I've been dreaming about you. Even before I saw you, you were in my dreams. Weird, isn't it. I mean ... I don't know what it means ... but it might mean something ... mightn't it? I hope so. Anyway you're in danger and I think we should get out of here, now, quick! Come on!



Jill Layton: I don't want to hear about your fucking dreams!






Sam's mother: Dr Jaffe, you're a genius. Would you like to be Surgeon General? Four Star. I know everybody.
Dr. Lewis Jaffe: Well, they won't know you when I've finished with you.




Mr. Warren: And what the hell is this mess? An empty desk is an efficient desk.



Spoor: Where'd you get this from, eh? Out your nostril? . . . All you've got to do is blow your nose and it's fixed, in't it?



Jill: Care for a little necrophilia?






Official A: 93/HKS/608, you are charged with the following: Passing confidential documents to unauthorized personnel - viz IR dossier/Gillian Layton. Destroying Government property - viz an indeterminate number of personnel carriers. Taking possession under false pretences of said personnel carriers. Forging the signature of the Head of Records, Third Department. Attempting to misdirect Ministry funds, in the form of a cheque to A. Buttle, through unauthorized channels. Tampering with Central Services supply ducts. Employing unqualified suspected persons for this purpose. Attempting to conceal a fugitive from justice. Obstructing the forces of law and order in the exercise of their duty. Giving aid and comfort to the enemies of society. Bringing into disrepute the good name of the Government, and the standing within the community of the Department of Information Retrieval. Attempting to disrupt the Ministry of Information Retrieval's internal communicating systems. Wasting Ministry time and paper.



Guard: Don't fight it son. Confess quickly! If you hold out too long, you could jeopardize your credit rating.



Sam: Jack?... Jack?
Jack: Shut up!
Sam: Jack, I'm innocent! Help me.
Jack: Bastard!!!
. . .
Jack: How could you do this to me?
Sam: Help me, Jack! I'm frightened!
Jack: How do you think I feel? You shit!
Sam: Jack ...
Jack: Shut up! This is a professional relationship!



Tuttle: Detonate!



Jill: Morning. Sleep well?
Sam: I don't dream anymore.



Mr. Helpmann: Jill? Yes... Sam, I think I ought to tell you. I'm afraid she's upped stumps and retired to the pavillion. Thrown in the towel.



Mr. Helpmann: He's got away from us, Jack.
Jack: I'm afraid you're right, Mr. Helpmann. He's gone.


♠ OTHER IMAGES

DVD Menu Art


♠ LINKS
Terry Gilliam's Brazil Fan Site