The Recruit

James Clayton:
Everything is a test!

Walter Burke:
I pity da fool!

Walter Burke:
Nothing... is... what it seems.

Dennis Slayne:
[shouting at Burke] Walter!

Walter Burke:
[stops in his tracks, blinded by the lights] Well, will you look at this? Twenty seven years, I'm finally in the spotlight, huh? What do you know. What do we do now? Come get my gun? Or do you just want to hang me? Hang the traitor! [shouts at Slayne] You ready for that, Slayne? I hear you. "Why'd you sell us out, Burke?" I sold you out? No way!

Dennis Slayne:
[realizes what is happening] Jesus Christ.

Walter Burke:
[raving] Twenty seven years, neck deep in sh*t! Sell you out? Did I do my job? I ask you: you do your job? I hand you the target, I tell you who and where. All you got to do is act. What do you do? Do you do your job? No! [screams] I'm obsolete! I'm irrelevant! Me! Shame on you! You yank me home, you shove me out in the woods! Some Ivy League prick who's afraid of having dinner in DC because of street crime is judging my worth!

Dennis Slayne:
The target is Burke, I repeat, the target is Burke!

Walter Burke:
[breaks off as he sees the laser sights on his chest]... shoving me in the f***ing woods...

Dennis Slayne:
Put it down, Walter.

Walter Burke:
[stunned, to James] They came for you.

James Clayton:
[distraught] Yeah.

Walter Burke:
The line to the CIA was a fake. You never told them.

James Clayton:
[upset] No, you did. Nothing is what it seems.

Dennis Slayne:
God dammit, Walter.

Walter Burke:
[smiles ruefully] You got me, hand in the cookie jar. [grins] You got to give me one thing. I'm a scary judge of talent. Here goes nothing. [c*cks empty pistol]

James Clayton:
No!

Walter Burke:
Bye bye.

James Clayton:
[screams at CIA] No bullets! [Burke is shot dead in front of him]

James Clayton:
All I know about the CIA is that they're a bunch of fat, old white guys who fell asleep when we needed them most.

Walter Burke:
You gotta give me one thing. I'm a scary judge of talent.

James Clayton:
Would I have to kill anyone?

Walter Burke:
Would you like to?

Walter Burke:
All right, your objective - reach the parking lot with an asset who intends to have sex with you.

James Clayton:
You want us to pick up a girl?

Walter Burke:
Well, uh, five, actually - one each.

Psychiatrist #1:
Would you consider yourself subjectively firm or objectively flexible?

James Clayton:
Metaphysically wrinkle-free?

Walter Burke:
My dick's on fire!

Husky Guy:
What are the names of your instructors?

James Clayton:
Ok, ok. John's the wise guy. Paul's the cute one. George is pretty quiet, and this new kid... I can't remember his name.

Physiatrist:
How do upsetting problems generally make you feel?

James Clayton:
Upset.

Walter Burke:
Very dramatic, James.

James Clayton:
I want to talk, can we talk?

Walter Burke:
Yeah.

James Clayton:
Where are you?

Walter Burke:
Well, you know the phone booth you're calling from?

James Clayton:
Yeah.

Walter Burke:
Turn around.

James Clayton:
The Iwo Jima Memorial... this where you tell me about duty and sacrafice?

Walter Burke:
No. This is where I have my breakfast burrito.

James Clayton:
You said you wanted to go home and have comfort sex. Did you?

Walter Burke:
What do you know about the CIA?

James Clayton:
All I know is they're a bunch of old fat white guys who fell asleep when this country needed them most.

James Clayton:
Ever since we met we've been lying to each other. Now there's no reason to believe any of it is true, but I'm gonna anyway, okay?

James Clayton:
Tell me about my father.

Walter Burke:
You already know, don't you? That's why you're sitting here. You want answers, you're in the wrong car, kid. I only have secrets.

Walter Burke:
There's this parish priest and he goes before the Pope weeping and begging for forgiveness. What am I to do, oh what am I to do I do not believe in God anymore and you know what the pope said... fake it.

Walter Burke:
Let's break up this dance team!

James Clayton:
I guess it's just me and Sonny Crocket.

Ronnie Gibson:
Is that the black guy or the white guy?

James Clayton:
We're not playing by the rules here at the farm. Are we? Are we? Sonny?

Walter Burke:
Rule number one: [pause] do not get caught.

Walter Burke:
You caught me, hand in the cookie jar.

Husky Guy:
Did you know that no country with a McDonald's has ever attacked the US?

Zack:
[to Burke] Are you a senior instructor at the Farm?

Walter Burke:
[wired up to a polygraph machine] Yes.

Polygraph Interrogator:
True. OK, if you look at the screens, you'll see that his pulse is even, respiration normal, pupils undilated. Signs of the truth.

Walter Burke:
Come on, rough me up, let's go. Rough me up.

Zack:
[smiling] Have you ever worn women's clothing?

Walter Burke:
[mock angry] Who said that? Yes.

Polygraph Interrogator:
[smiling] True.

James Clayton:
Were you ever stationed in Peru?

Walter Burke:
Yes.

Polygraph Interrogator:
True.

Zack:
Is your name Walter Burke?

Walter Burke:
[serious] No.

Polygraph Interrogator:
[troubled] True.

Cab Driver:
What are you here for?

James Clayton:
An interview.

Cab Driver:
You look nervous.

James Clayton:
Yeah, a bit.

Cab Driver:
[turning around in his seat] Just grab your balls.

James Clayton:
[surprised] Grab my balls?

Cab Driver:
Yeah, just grab your balls, squeeze them hard. Takes your mind right off the fear.

James Clayton:
[smiling] Yeah, sure.

Cab Driver:
Well, it works for me.

James Clayton:
[apologetic] Sorry it's so early, but..

Walter Burke:
[tired] I don't sleep. I piss like a racehorse every two hours. Impossible. What you got?

Walter Burke:
There's this parish priest, goes up to the Pope, drops down on his knees, starts weeping... asking forgiveness. "Holy father, holy father, what am I to do? What am I to do? I do not believe in God anymore. What am i to do?" And you know what the pope said... "Fake it."