Alexandra Movie Quotes

I kept interrupting the movie by asking a lot of questions that Xavier managed to answer with endless patience. "How old do you think Bell is supposed to be?" "I don't know, probably our age." "I think the beast is sweet, don't you?" "Do I have to answer that?" "Why does the crockery talk?" "Because they're really the prince's servants that the beggar woman put a spell on." Xavier frowned suddenly and looked mortified. "I can't believe I know that.

When making his music, he [Elvis Presley] had been the essence of cool, but in his movies he was often a self-parody embarrassing to watch. Colonel Parker, his manager, who had picked movie scrips for him, had served Elvis less well than the monk Rasputin had served Czar Nicholas and Alexandra.

You don’t know me.” “I do! The way you write, it makes me feel things. I walked in her shoes and felt what she felt. It changed me. I-I almost, almost cried when I watched your movie. I was so close. And, ya know, I never cry, not even when my family…” “I’m sorry for your loss, Harry. I—” “I once looked into the science of tears. Did you know Charles Darwin once declared emotional crying purposeless? I tend to agree with him… Anyway, don’t get me wrong, I have tear ducts and can keep my eyes moist.” “Uh-huh.” Tom worked hard to keep a straight face.

I remembered from movies and TV that a human being striking a window could cause it to shatter, but the glass was too strong or I was too weak. My body didn't do much anymore when I put it to things. I didn't even make much noise pounding my fist against the glass: the ones that turned to look dismissed me almost before they had swiveled their heads. I might have been a painting of a hysterical female, paused in motion and screaming decoratively. But my throat was going raw, and my hands hurt dully.

There was a hazy damp film in his eyes that I recognized from emotions in old movies, projected large on darkened screens.

Outside the window there was snow falling, falling like movie snow, all the dreamy fluffy bits drifting around in the light of a single streetlamp . . . I watched the snow slow down, thin out. Then it was two or three pieces at a time, falling reversibly, wavering up and down and up again like they didn't know where to go.

May 7: Marilyn performs well as a wife returning home several years after she has been presumed dead. She kneels down to speak with the children she has not seen for so long. Robert Christopher Morley, who played her son, recalled, “[S]he was very tender . . . and in the fantasy world of being on the set and shooting the movie it was very nice to have Marilyn be my mother.” Alexandra Heilweil, who played Marilyn’s daughter, recalled, “I remember looking up at her, and it was as if she drifted out of a mist . . . the model of femininity to me. I think it was the way she carried herself and the sweetness of her voice—totally feminine and totally elegant.” Alexandra’s mother added, “Marilyn was magnificent. You never really knew how sick she was. And I can tell you she was sick indeed.

At least our stories were beginning to be noticed as part of the human experience. That was a victory. At least . . . that’s what I tried to convince myself of. The actress who replaced me was Felicity Huffman. The movie was Transamerica.

I had wanted a man so that I could be a woman. I wanted all the things I had read about and all the things I had seen in movies—someone to open my door, put on my coat, carry me, lift me, get things for me, make sure I was okay and beautiful and alive on the planet and that I mattered. I wanted a man to hear me and walk like a man with me, so that other people would see that I was not the man.

She lifted her eyes to the ceiling before pointing her spoon in the direction of my laptop. “What’s that for?” “Netflix,” I replied. “We need a good distraction, and I’ve got a great movie to get us started.” I turned the laptop to show her what I was thinking. She looked intrigued until she caught sight of the title on the screen. She quickly looked away, and her eyes glistened like she was about to cry. I immediately started to panic. “I-I picked a horror movie because I knew you liked them,” I said. “I mean, they terrify me, but I thought that would make you enjoy it even more.” I was rambling, but the sight of her watery eyes worried me. I was supposed to be helping her, not making things worse. “You’re right,” she murmured. “I do love horror films. It’s just… It’s something I do with my dad…” Her voice broke as she spoke. I quickly backtracked. “We can watch something else… In fact, I happen to know a few good chick flicks that we could watch instead.” Her face scrunched at the thought, and she blinked away the tears. Her voice was a little firmer when she responded. “You think I want to watch a chick flick?” “Uh, no? I mean, no, of course not. That was just a joke.” I quickly started searching the Netflix menu for something else. I was completely messing this up.