Brazil

Sam Lowry:
I only know you got the wrong man.

Jack Lint:
Information Transit got the wrong man. I got the *right* man. The wrong one was delivered to me as the right man, I accepted him on good faith as the right man. Was I wrong?

Sam Lowry:
Excuse me, Dawson, can you put me through to Mr. Helpmann's office?

Sam Lowry:
And you can't tell me what the proper channels are, because that's classified information?

Sam Lowry:
Thank you, Dawson.

Sam Lowry:
How are the twins?

Jack Lint:
Triplets.

Sam Lowry:
My, how time flies!

Mr. Warrenn:
There you are, your own number on your very own door. And behind that door, your very own office! Welcome to the team, DZ-015

Mr. Warrenn:
What is this mess? An empty desk is an efficient desk.

Arresting Officer:
This is your receipt for your husband... and this is my receipt for your receipt.

Charlie, Department of Works:
Bloody typical, they've gone back to metric without telling us.

Harry Tuttle:
Bloody paperwork. Huh!

Sam Lowry:
I suppose one has to expect a certain amount.

Harry Tuttle:
Why? I came into this game for the action, the excitement. Go anywhere, travel light, get in, get out, wherever there's trouble, a man alone. Now they got the whole country sectioned off, you can't make a move without a form.

Harry Tuttle:
....well, that's a pipe of a different color.

Harry Tuttle:
Listen, this old system of yours could be on fire and I couldn't even turn on the kitchen tap without filling out a 27b/6... Bloody paperwork.

Harry Tuttle:
My good friends call me Harry.

Sam Lowry:
Tuttle!

Harry Tuttle:
Call me Harry!

Harry Tuttle:
Listen, kid, we're all in it together.

Kurtzmann:
It's been confusion from the word go!

Mrs. Buttle:
What have you done with his body?

Jack Lint:
Until this whole thing blows over, just stay away from me.

Jack Lint:
It's not my fault that Buttle's heart condition didn't appear on Tuttle's file!

Sam Lowry:
Yes... No... I don't know. I don't know what I want.

Sam Lowry:
My name's Lowry. Sam Lowry. I've been told to report to Mr. Warrenn.

Porter - Information Retrieval:
Thirtieth floor, sir. You're expected.

Sam Lowry:
Um... don't you want to search me?

Porter - Information Retrieval:
No sir.

Sam Lowry:
Do you want to see my ID?

Porter - Information Retrieval:
No need, sir.

Sam Lowry:
But I could be anybody.

Porter - Information Retrieval:
No you couldn't sir. This is Information Retrieval.

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

Sam Lowry:
Yes, I always used to wonder if she wore falsies. False ears...

Sam Lowry:
Sorry, I'm a bit of a stickler for paperwork. Where would we be if we didn't follow the correct procedures?

Sam Lowry:
I assure you, Mrs. Buttle, the Ministry is very scrupulous about following up and eradicating any error. If you have any complaints which you'd like to make, I'd be more than happy to send you the appropriate forms.

Mr. Helpmann:
Bad sportsmanship. A ruthless minority of people seem to have forgotten good old-fashioned virtues. They just can't stand seeing the other fellow win. If these people would just play the game...

Mr. Helpmann:
We're fielding all their strokes, running a lot of them out, and pretty consistently knocking them for six. I'd say they're nearly out of the game.

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:
All I can say is don't fall at the last fence. The finishing post's in sight. See you in the paddock... keep your eye on the ball.

Dr. Lewis Jaffe:
Just me and my little knife! Snip snip - slice slice... can you believe it?

Dr. Lewis Jaffe:
Faces are a doddle compared to tits and ass. No hairline.

Spoor:
Where'd you get this from, eh? Out yer nostril?

Spoor:
All you've got to do is blow your nose and it's fixed, in't it?

Lime:
Computers are my forte!

Jill Layton:
Care for a little necrophilia? Hmmm?

Sam Lowry:
Are you alright?

Jill Layton:
Yeah.

Sam Lowry:
Well, you don't deserve to be!

Jack Lint:
This is information retrieval not information dispersal.

Holly:
Put it on, big boy. I won't look at your willy.

Sam Lowry:
Is that one of your triplets?

Jack Lint:
Yeah, probably.

Singers:
[TV commercial jingle] Central Services: We do the work, you do the pleasure.

TV commercial pitchman:
Hi, there. I want to talk to you about ducts. Do your ducts seem old fashioned, out of date? Central Services' new duct designs are now available in hundreds of different colors to suit your individual tastes.

Interviewer:
What do you believe is behind this recent increase in terrorist bombings?

Mr. Helpmann:
Bad sportsmanship. A ruthless minority of people seems to have forgotten certain good old-fashioned virtues. They just can't stand seeing the other fellow win. If these people would just play the game, they'd get a lot more out of life.

Interviewer:
Nevertheless, Mr. Helpmann, there are those who maintain that the Ministry of Information has become too large and unwieldy...And the cost of it all, Deputy Minister? Seven percent of the gross national product.

Mr. Helpmann:
I understand this concern on behalf of the tax payers. People want value for money. That's why we always insist on the principle of Information Retrieval charges. It's absolutely right and fair that those found guilty should pay for their periods of detention and for the Information Retrieval Procedures used in their interrogation.

Interviewer:
Do you believe that the government is winning the battle against terrorists?

Mr. Helpmann:
Oh, yes. Our morale is much higher than theirs. We're fielding all their strokes, running a lot of them out, and pretty consistently knocking them for six. I'd say they're nearly out of the game.

Mr. Helpmann:
Why should decent law-abiding citizens have to subsidize criminals?

Interviewer:
But Mr. Helpmann, the bombing campaign is now in its thirteenth year.

Mr. Helpmann:
Beginner's luck.

Sam Lowry:
Remember me to Alison and the twins.

Jack Lint:
Triplets.

Sam Lowry:
Triplets? God, how time flies.

Sam Lowry:
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 Lowry:
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 Lowry:
Thank you, Dawson.

Sam Lowry:
It's not the machine. There's a mismatch on the personnel code numbers... Tuttle should have had £31.06, debited against his account, not Buttle!

Kurtzman:
[horrified] Oh my God, a mistake!

Sam Lowry:
Well at least it's not ours.

Kurtzman:
[eagerly] Isn't it? Whose is it?

Sam Lowry:
Information Retrieval.

Kurtzman:
[smiling] Oh, good!

Sam Lowry:
I don't want dessert. I don't want a promotion. I don't want anything.

Mrs. Lowry:
Of course you want something. You must have hopes, wishes, dreams.

Sam Lowry:
No, nothing. Not even dreams!

Sam Lowry:
Better still, send it to Buttle, after all it's his cheque.

Kurtzmann:
I've tried that. Look at this/ [shows Sam a file] You see? The population census has got him down as dormanted. The Central Collective Storehouse computer has got him down as deleted...

Sam Lowry:
Hang on. [goes to computer terminal and begins typing]

Kurtzman:
...Information Retrieval has got him down as inoperative. And there's another one - Security has got him down as excised. Administration's got him down as completed...

Sam Lowry:
He's dead.

Kurtzman:
L... [pause] Dead? Well, that's awful!

[Kurtzman sits down and looks at refund cheque]

Kurtzman:
[desperately] We'll never get rid of the damn thing now! What are we going to do Sam?

Sam Lowry:
It's a refund, actually. There was a mistake.

Mrs. Buttle:
Mistake?

Sam Lowry:
Yes, they don't usually make mistakes, but, uh, well, I suppose we're all human...Actually, you know, my coming here is rather unorthodox, bringing you this check as any payments are normally made through central computer, but, uhm, well, as there were certain difficulties, we thought, well, rather than cause delay, uh, we'd let you have it now - you know, it being Christmas and all.

Mrs. Buttle:
My husband's dead, isn't he?

Sam Lowry:
Uhm, I do assure you, Mrs. Buttle, the Ministry is very scrupulous about following up and eradicating any error. But if you do have any complaints you wish to make, I'd be, well, only too happy to send you the appropriate forms.

Mrs. Buttle:
What have you done with his body?...

Sam Lowry:
Uhmm, I don't know anything about that, Mrs. Buttle. I'm really just delivering the check. So if, uhm, look, if you wouldn't mind just signing these two receipts, I'd be only too happy to, uh, to leave you in peace...

Mrs. Buttle:
He hadn't done anything. He was good! What have you done with his body?

Harvey Lime:
[bragging] Computers are my forte.

Sam Lowry:
Let me see. [He grabs the page] Gillian Layton. Coloring white. Hair blonde. Eyes blue. Height, five-foot, four. Distinguishing marks, scar on left...Is this all you got?

Harvey Lime:
Best to take things slowly where some women are concerned.

Sam Lowry:
I only know you got the wrong man.

Jack Lint:
Information Transit got to wrong man. I got the right man. The 'wrong man' was delivered to me as the 'right man.' I accepted him on good faith as the 'right man.' Was I wrong?

Sam Lowry:
You killed Buttle?

Jack Lint:
Sam, there are very rigid parameters laid down to prevent such things happening. It wasn't my fault that Buttle's heart condition didn't appear on Tuttle's file... We're going to have to bring Mr. Tuttle in, aren't we? And interrogate him at the same voltage as Mr. Buttle - and juggle the books in electrical banking.

Sam Lowry:
What has Tuttle done?

Jack Lint:
We suspect him of, uh, free lance subversion. Then all I need to wrap up the case is the Layton woman.

Sam Lowry:
What has she done?

Jack Lint:
Oh, she witnessed the Tuttle, uhm, the Buttle arrest and essentially is going around making wild allegations, obviously trying to exploit the situation. She's working for someone and I don't think it's us.

Sam Lowry:
[softly to himself] A terrorist?

Santa Claus:
What would you like for Christmas?

Little girl:
[on his lap] My own credit card.

Jill Layton:
Get out of my cab.

Sam Lowry:
What? Just drive!

Jill Layton:
You touched me, nobody touches me.

Sam Lowry:
Anyway, if I want you to trust me, it's only fair that I should trust you, right?

Jill Layton:
Doesn't it bother you the sort of things you do at Information Retrieval?

Sam Lowry:
What? I suppose you'd rather have terrorists?

Jill Layton:
How many terrorists have you met, Sam? Actual terrorists?

Sam Lowry:
Actual terrorists?

Jill Layton:
Yeah.

Sam Lowry:
Well, it's only my first day.

Jill Layton:
What do you think? Is it me? Well?

Sam Lowry:
You don't exist anymore. I've killed you. [(Shows picture of Jill Layton's file with the words "DELETE" on it] Jill Layton is dead.

Jill Layton:
[smiles] Care for a little necrophilia? Hmmm?

Mr. Helpmann:
He's got away from us, Jack.

Jack Lint:
'Fraid you're right, Mr. Helpmann. He's gone.

Sam Lowry:
Have you got a 27B stroke 6?

Sam Lowry:
[to Jill] You won't believe this, I know it's going to sound incredible, but I've been dreaming about you. No, not like that. I mean, I love you - in my dreams - I love you. And, uh...Extraordinary, isn't it?

Mr. Helpmann:
'Ere I am, J.H. ...The ghost in the machine.

Bill, Department of Works:
Mistakes? We don't make mistakes.

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

Mr. Warrenn:
And what the hell is this mess. An empty desk is an efficient desk...I don't know what's going on here, Lowry, but don't think you can intimidate us with your friends and relatives in high places. NOW SHAPE UP!

Kurtzmann:
It's been confusion from the word go! He's been overcharged for Information Retrieval Procedures and someone somewhere is trying to make us carry the can.

Dr. Lewis Jaffe:
Can you believe it? Just me and my little knife. Snip, snip, slice, slice...But this is just the beginning...You've seen her with her clothes off. Faces are a doddle compared to tits and ass. No hairlines.

Dr. Chapman:
That technique...I've tried it. A nice effect, but highly unstable. In six months, she'll look like Grandma Moses.

Mrs. Terrain:
My complication had a little complication. But Dr. Jaffe says I'll soon be up and bounding about like a young gazelle.