Good Will Hunting

1997

Director: Gus Van Sant

Writers: Matt Damon / Ben Affleck

Distributor: Miramax Films

Key Element: Lines – Characters

My Review:

So Ben Affleck and Matt Damon got together and decided to write a movie. And the first thing Damon said was, “I want to be a genius.” And that is what they built their story around.

And somehow, what they created was some of the best writing I’ve seen in a movie. They create compelling personal tension within Will’s character. And there are lines that move. Sean’s delivery of what really matters in life could stand alone as an argument for not judging others.

Just all around, a great movie.

Clip:



Quotes:

• Do you like apples? …Well I got her number. How do you like them apples?
• What is your obsession with this money? My father died when I was 13 and I inherited this money. You don't think that every day I wake up and wish I could give it back? That I would give it back in a second if I could have one more day with him? But I can't, and that's my life and I deal with it.
• If you ever disrespect my wife again, I will end you. I will fucking end you. You got that, chief?
• My father was an alcoholic. Mean fuckin' drunk. Used to come home hammered, looking to wail on someone. So I had to provoke him, so he wouldn't go after my mother and little brother. Interesting nights were when he wore his rings.
  - …He used to just put a belt, a stick, and a wrench on the kitchen table and say, "Choose."
  I’d have to go with the belt.
  -…I used to go with the wrench.
  Why?
  - Cause fuck him, that's why.
• It’s not your fault
• No. No, no no no. Fuck you, you don't owe it to yourself man, you owe it to me, 'cause tomorrow I'm gonna wake up and I'll be 50, and I'll still be doin' this shit. And that's all right. That's fine. I mean, you're sittin' on a winnin' lottery ticket. You're too much of a pussy to cash it in, and that's bullshit. 'Cause I'd do fuckin' anything to have what you got. So would any of these fuckin' guys. It'd be an insult to us if you're still here in 20 years. Hangin' around here is a fuckin' waste of your time.
• You're not perfect sport, and let me save you the suspense, this girl you've met she's not perfect either. But the question is whether or not you're perfect for each other.
• So if I asked you about art, you'd probably give me the skinny on every art book ever written. Michelangelo, you know a lot about him. Life's work, political aspirations, him and the pope, sexual orientations, the whole works, right? But I'll bet you can't tell me what it smells like in the Sistine Chapel. You've never actually stood there and looked up at that beautiful ceiling; seen that. If I ask you about women, you'd probably give me a syllabus about your personal favorites. You may have even been laid a few times. But you can't tell me what it feels like to wake up next to a woman and feel truly happy. You're a tough kid. And I'd ask you about war, you'd probably throw Shakespeare at me, right, "once more unto the breach dear friends." But you've never been near one. You've never held your best friend's head in your lap, watch him gasp his last breath looking to you for help. I'd ask you about love, you'd probably quote me a sonnet. But you've never looked at a woman and been totally vulnerable. Known someone that could level you with her eyes, feeling like God put an angel on earth just for you. Who could rescue you from the depths of hell. And you wouldn't know what it's like to be her angel, to have that love for her, be there forever, through anything, through cancer. And you wouldn't know about sleeping sitting up in the hospital room for two months, holding her hand, because the doctors could see in your eyes, that the terms "visiting hours" don't apply to you. You don't know about real loss, 'cause it only occurs when you've loved something more than you love yourself. And I doubt you've ever dared to love anybody that much. And look at you... I don't see an intelligent, confident man... I see a cocky, scared shitless kid. But you're a genius Will. No one denies that. No one could possibly understand the depths of you. But you presume to know everything about me because you saw a painting of mine, and you ripped my fucking life apart. You're an orphan right? You think I know the first thing about how hard your life has been, how you feel, who you are, because I read Oliver Twist? Does that encapsulate you? Personally... I don't give a shit about all that, because you know what, I can't learn anything from you, I can't read in some fuckin' book. Unless you want to talk about you, who you are. Then I'm fascinated. I'm in. But you don't want to do that do you sport? You're terrified of what you might say. Your move, chief.
• People call those imperfections, but no, that's the good stuff.
• Every day I come by your house and I pick you up. And we go out. We have a few drinks, and a few laughs, and it's great. But you know what the best part of my day is? For about ten seconds, from when I pull up to the curb and when I get to your door, cause I think, maybe I'll get up there and I'll knock on the door and you won't be there. No goodbye. No see you later. No nothing. You just left. I don't know much, but I know that.
  

Stills: