Shadow of the Vampire

F.W. Murnau:
Why him, you monster? Why not the... script girl?

Max Schreck:
Oh. The script girl. I'll eat her later.

F.W. Murnau:
I will not allow you to destroy my picture!

Max Schreck:
This is hardly your picture any longer.

Max Schreck:
Did I kill one of your people, Murnau? I can't remember.

Murnau:
They don't need to act. They need to *be*.

F.W. Murnau:
If it's not in frame, it doesn't exist!

Max Schreck:
I would like some makeup.

F.W. Murnau:
Well, you don't get any.

Max Schreck:
There was a time... when I... fed from golden chalices. But now... Don't look at me that way!

F.W. Murnau:
Ladies and gentlemen, this is Max Schreck, who will be portraying our vampire, Count Orlock. As you no doubt have heard, Max's methods are somewhat... unconventional, but... I am sure you will come to respect his artistry in this matter.

Max Schreck:
I feed like an old man pees -- sometimes all at once, sometimes drop by drop.

Max Schreck:
I told you, I feed erratically, and often enormously.

Max Schreck:
It made me sad.

Albin:
Why sad?

Max Schreck:
Because Dracula had no servants.

Albin:
I think you missed the point of the book, Count Orlock.

Max Schreck:
Dracula hasn't had servants in 400 years and then a man comes to his ancestral home, and he must convince him that he... that he is like the man. He has to feed him, when he himself hasn't eaten food in centuries. Can he even remember how to buy bread? How to select cheese and wine? And then he remembers the rest of it. How to prepare a meal, how to make a bed. He remembers his first glory, his armies, his retainers, and what he is reduced to. The loneliest part of the book comes... when the man accidentally sees Dracula setting his table.

Greta Schroder:
Hey, who died?

Max Schreck:
Go to hell, Murnau!

F.W. Murnau:
Why would you possibly want to be in a play when you could be in a film?

Greta Schroeder:
An audience gives me life. This...thing only takes it from me.

Albin:
What is the most wondrous thing you ever saw?

Henrik Galeen:
I once saw Greta Schroeder naked.

Albin:
That beats ectoplasm!

F.W. Murnau:
Go ahead! Eat the writer! That will leave you explaining how your character gets to Bremen!

F.W. Murnau:
Death of centuries! Moonchaser! Blasphemer! Monkey! Vase of prehistory. Finally to Earth, and finally born.

F.W. Murnau:
Albin, collect the wooden stake and return it to it's rightful place; it is necessary for the final frame, to remind us of the inadequacies of our plans, our contingincies, every missed train and failed picnic, every lie to a child.

F.W. Murnau:
Time will no longer be a dark spot on our lungs. They will no longer say 'you had to have been there', because the fact is, Albin, we were.

F.W. Murnau:
I think we have it.

F.W. Murnau:
Our battle, our struggle, is to create art. Our weapon is the moving picture. Because we have the moving picture, our paintings will grow and recede; our poetry will be shadows that lengthen and conceal; our light will play across living faces that laugh and agonize; and our music will linger and finally overwhelm, because it will have a context as certain as the grave. We are scientists engaged in the creation of memory... but our memory will neither blur nor fade.