Melissa Movie Quotes

She doesn't follow me. She doesn't call out my name and chase after me in the rain. It isn't even raining. The sky doesn't even have the decency to provide me with a good movie cliché.

Bet you can't even name one romantic movie you like," she teased. She felt smug when a few minutes went by and Oliver was still unable to name one romantic movie he could profess to enjoy. The Empire Strikes Back," Oliver finally declared, tapping his horn at a Prius that wandered over the line. The Empire Strikes Back? The Star Wars movie? That's not romantic!" Schuyler huffed, fiddling with the air conditioner controls. Au contraire, my dear, it's very romantic. The last scene, you know, when they're about to put Han in that freezing cryogenic chamber or whatever? Remember?" Schuyler mmm-hmmmed. And Leia leans over the ledge and says, 'I love you.'" That's cheesy, not romatic," Schuyler argued, although she did like that part. Let me explain. What's romantic is what Han says back. Remember what he says to her? After she says 'I love you'?" Schuyler grinned. Maybe Oliver had a point. "Han says, 'I know.'" Exactly," Oliver tapped the wheel. "He doesn't have to say anything so trite as 'I love you." Because that's already understood. And that's romantic.

I think I would give up movies for this feeling.

But why me? Because, idiot, you... are funny and smart and you have a giant heart that you can't even pretend to hide. And you love your friends and your mum, and you held my hand and made me sing when I was so scared I thought I was going to die. I knew you understood, right from the beginning, this thing inside, the stuff in your head that you need to make real. You get that.... And you wear stupid Superman pyjamas without any irony, and your face lights up when you talk about the movies you love.... And... you protect my dwarf. You always have her back. And you have a dimple when you smile that's so cute I almost died the first time I saw it.

I'm thinking about the top five all-time greatest movie kisses. I can't believe I haven't made that list. And I'm thinking about a screenplay I want to write. I have a hunch it'll be the first good movie I've ever written. This one will be about a girl. I don't know how I ever tried to write my story without her.

I know I should be able to find a story in anything. Good screenwriters can pull interesting films out of the asinine and mundane. But everything I've read about writing always begins with ‘write what you know.’ What I know is: quiet streets, topiary, moronic high school arsehats, and homework. Has anyone ever made a movie about homework? Probably. I bet it was in French.

With so much sky and so much river, you couldn't help seeing the big picture. It was what you already knew, but crowding into the subway or rushing to a movie, you only saw it for a second, and close up. Now I took a good long look. I'd always heard you couldn't see stars in Manhattan because of all the lights. But here they all were. Here was my night in shining armor.

But I've been kidding myself that this thing I feel for her is just a crush. No matter what I'd heard or read or seen in a movie - no one ever said it was supposed to suck so badly.

What about holding hands in a movie theater? Can girls hold hands in a movie theater?

I would have liked the movie immeasurably better if, instead of being about a beautiful, smart virgin who acquired an unearned reputation and then cleared her name and bagged the super-nice boyfriend, it was a movie about a girl who actually had extremely hot sex with her queer best friend and then fcked a bunch nerds for Home Depot gift cards and was still presented as a sympathetic protagonist.

I don’t see love as some perfect happily ever after thing like it is in books and movies. It’s more like a bumpy road filled with potholes…and detours. Sometimes we even veer off into the ditch. But the places that road will take you, the things you’ll experience, are worth all of the uncertainty.

I've always wanted to be a journalist, but what am I going to do? Write articles about which movie star had the fat sucked from her ass and injected into her face? Which professional athlete just confessed to shooting steroids? The last celebrity baby names?" Cara lowered both brows in frustration. "Who cares?

I rented a dark little bar on Sunset Boulevard that had pool tables, three bars inside and out, and a movie theater where we played only Quentin Tarantino movies all night.

It’s funny, but finding out that Hollywood movie monsters were real never shook my convictions. If God could create a platypus, why couldn’t he create a vampire? If AIDS could exist in God’s kingdom, why not lycanthropy?

My mother hated the kids on the network television show Fame,1 which was based on (and which featured some of the kids from) the big hit movie Fame. (Okay, she didn’t really hate them; she just couldn’t figure out why they were all thirty-five years old and still in high school.

Nah. You’d survive at least the first act of any movie. The pretty brunettes rarely get bumped off first.’ ‘Aw. You think I’m purr-ty,’ she says in a singsong voice. ‘Well, you know, objectively …’ I clear my throat. Camilla kicks some sand over my towel. ‘I shall take that as a compliment,’ she says, giggling.

Nearby,one of the overexcited frat boys started wildly windmilling his arms. He had overbalanced and now tipped himself right over the wall.In a second, the diver with us had grabbed his ankle and hauled him back.The sharks, instead of being attracted by the flailing, like they are in every single scary underwater movie, took one sideways look and promptly turned tail,heading for the other side of the tank. They stayed there and didn't come back. The culprit's buddies pounded him when we climbed out of the water. "Smooth move, Ex-Lax," one muttered. "Way to be a buzzkill." "hey" was the red-faced retort, "at least I can say I scared off a shark.

1. "Ahem. I know you hate Mondays, madam, but you picked the absolutely wrong one to play hooky. Or be sick. Yes, I suppose it's vaguely possible that you are actually sick. Anyway, here we are at lunch, Sadie and I, witnessing total social disorder. Your friend Alexander Bainbridge is sitting at the usual table, but facing the room. Amanda Alstead is sitting at Table One. Or, should I say,sitting more or less on a Phillite senior boy, whose name is unimportant, at Table One. A very nice young lady at the next table over-you know, the one who writes about Mr. Darcy-has just informeed us that Amanda dumpled Alex over the break. On Thanksgiving Day,no less. By e-mail. No telling how much truth is there, but a lot more than a kernal, I would say. We have a large, seven-dollar bag o' movie popcorn here. Thought you'd like to know. Call me.

I have these worksheets. They're great for the irregular verbs..." "Not today." He shot me a look and kept shuffling papers. "Okay," I said. "D'accord.Pas de papiers aujourd'hui. S'il vous plait,Alex. Je...je fais les choses la derniere fois." "Prochaine." "What?" "La prochaine fois," he correct. "Next time. Derniere fois is 'last time.' I'm not even going to start on your verb usage." "Right.La derniere...sorry...prochaine fois. How do you say 'I'm begging you'?" "Jes t'en supplie," he answered. Then, "You are aware that in order to speak better french, you actually have to speak French." "Oui,monsieur. But the Eiffel Tower will still be standing next week, and french fries will still be American." "Belgian," Alex sighed. "French fries started in Belgium. Look,I'm not going to force you to work. It's your choice and not my job." "Next week," I promised. "I promise." "Right." He rubbed the back of his head, pushing his hair into a funny little ducktail. "Okay,fine. How 'bout a movie?" Worked for me. "Sure.

There were three great comedians in my formative years—Bill Cosby, Bill Murray, and Richard Pryor—and they wrecked comedy for a generation. How? By never saying anything funny. You can quote a Steve Martin joke, or a Rodney Dangerfield line, but Pryor, Cosby, and Murray? The things they said were funny only when they said them. In Cosby’s case, it didn’t even need to be sentences: “The thing of the thing puts the milk in the toast, and ha, ha, ha!” It was gibberish and America loved it. The problem was that they inspired a generation of comedians who tried coasting on personality—they were all attitude and no jokes. It was also a time when comedy stars didn’t seem to care. Bill Murray made some lousy movies; Richard Pryor and Eddie Murphy made even more; and any script that was too lame for these guys, Chevy Chase made. These were smart people—they had to know how bad these films were, but they just grabbed a paycheck and did them. Most of these comic actors started as writers—they could have written their own scripts, but they rarely bothered. Then, at the end of a decade of lazy comedy and half-baked material, The Simpsons came along. We cared about jokes, and we worked endless hours to cram as many into a show as possible. I’m not sure we can take all the credit, but TV and movies started trying harder. Jokes were back. Shows like 30 Rock and Arrested Development demanded that you pay attention. These days, comedy stars like Seth Rogen, Amy Schumer, Kristen Wiig, Melissa McCarthy, and Jonah Hill actually write the comedies they star in.

Key to the success of many with ADHD is finding the “right life” in which to live. This means a job in which their particular talents for nonlinear thinking and quick emergency response are prized, and a spouse who can appreciate, or at least learn to live with, an often uneven distribution of work within the relationship. Without these things, many with ADHD feel that they don’t really fit into the world, or that the face that they put forward in order to fit in is false. The other critical factor for the success of an ADHD spouse in a relationship is for both partners to continue to respect differences and act on that respect. Here’s what one woman with ADHD says about living a life in which others assume that “different” is not worthy of respect: I think [my husband] uses the ADD as an excuse to be bossy and stuff sometimes but I find it very upsetting and hard on my self esteem to have my disorder and learning disabilities used that way. We do have very different perspectives but reality is perspective. Just because I see things differently from someone else doesn’t make one wrong or right…how I experience life is colored by my perception, it is what it is. I hate how people try to invalidate my thoughts feelings and perceptions because they are different from theirs. Like telling me [since] they feel…different[ly] from me [that their feelings] should make me magically change! It doesn’t work that way. Even if my ADD makes me see or remember something “not right” it’s still MY reality. It is like those movies where the hero has something crazy going on where they experience reality differently from everyone else.

You can talk to me, Clay,” I said with a little hope.  I really began to wonder if he could speak.  When he didn’t respond, I spoke again.  “Okay, do you want to go out or stay in?” He moved to the couch and sat in the middle, his choice clear.  Stay in tonight. I hesitated.  The chair, set at an odd angle to the TV, gave you a sore neck if you tried to watch a movie from there.  That meant I’d need to sit next to him to watch a movie.  But I felt so exposed in a skirt and sleeveless shirt. I wasn’t sure if I could sit next to him for a full movie. While I debated my options, he watched me closely. “I’m going to go change,” I stammered. “I’ll be right back.” I turned and made it one step before the back of my shirt snagged on something.  Surprised, I looked over my shoulder and found Clay standing right behind me.  He held a fold of my shirt between his thumb and forefinger.  I could see the glint of his brown eyes behind the still damp strands of his hair.  He tilted his head back toward the couch and gave a slight tug on my shirt.  My stomach dropped, and I couldn’t tell if it was in a good way or a bad one. When I hesitated, he gave another tug.  I surrendered, turned back, and sat on the couch. He padded over to the movies, made a selection I couldn’t see, and crouched to start it.  It amazed me that he knew how to do that.  Then again, he watched everything Rachel and I did.  I wondered if anything escaped his notice. He pressed play, stood, and walked toward me with fluid strides.  I felt graceless in comparison.  He settled next to me and watched the previews.  I tried to focus on them, too, but couldn’t.  Instead, I noticed our bare feet, the scratch on the wall next to the TV, his leg lightly pressed against mine, the sound of the water as it slowly dripped from the showerhead in the bathroom, his hands loosely resting on his lap.  The long list of unimportant details would not let my mind settle. It was midway through the movie when my mind calmed enough to notice we watched an action-comedy I’d wanted to see.  I’d just mentioned it to Rachel this past week.  She must have gotten it after that. Slowly, I began to relax and enjoy the movie.  I even laughed aloud at one point.  Clay’s echoing chuckle startled me, but in a good way.  So, he could do more than growl as a dog.  His deep laugh sounded pleasant. When

I Can't Make You Love Me.' Bonnie Raitt." "Oh,Fiorella." I glared at him a little as I climbed down. "Was that delightful list for your benefit or mine?" Frankie grabbed my hand and, when I didn't pull away fast enough, tugged me onto his lap,where he wrapped his arms so tightly around me that I couldn't escape. Sometimes his strength still surprises me.He tickled my cheek with his nose. "Don't hate me just because I'm hateful." "I never do." Here's the thing. Frankie's taken a lot of hits in his life. He never stays down for long. "Excuse me!" The mannequin's evil twin was glaring down at us fro her sky-high bootie-heeled heights. Her NM badge told us her name was Victoria. "You cannot do that here!" she snapped. "Do what?" Frankie returned, matching lockjaw snooty for lockjaw snooty. She opened and closed her mouth, then hissed, "Canoodle!" I felt Frankie's hiccup of amusement. "Were we canoodling, snookums?" he asked me. "I rather thought we were about to copulate like bunnies." I couldn't help it; I laughed out loud. Victoria's mouth thinned into a pale line. The whole thing might have ended with our being escorted out the store's hallowed doors by security. Sadie, as she so often did, momentarily saved us from ourselves. She stomped out of the dressing room and planted herself in front of us. Ignoring the angry salesgirl completely, she muttered, "I look like a carved pumpkin!" Frankie took in the skirt, layered shirts, and jacket. "You do not, but I might have been having an overly Michael Kors moment. This will not do for a date.Take it off." He nudged me, then added, "Right here.Every last stitch of it." As soon as Sadie was back in her own clothing and coat-which got an unwilling frown of respect from Victoria; apparently even Neiman Maruc doesn't carry that line-we moved on. Sadie did better in Frankie's second choice-a lip-printed sweater dress from Betsey Johnson,but wouldn't buy it. "We're just going to a movie!" she protested. "Besides,Jared's not...not..." She gestured down at her lippy hips. "He's practical and sensible and quiet." "Oh,my God!" Frankie slapped both palms to the side of his face,and turned to me. "Sadie has a date with a Prius!" He had to invoke the sanctity of Truth or Dare before he could even get her into Urban Outfitters. "Sometimes I love you less than other times," she grumbled as he filled her arms with his last choices. "No,you don't," he said cheerfully, and sent her off to change.

I adore macaroni and cheese. Whenever I see it on a menu at a restaurant, I have to order it. I’ve had (and consequently made) fried mac and cheese balls, lobster mac and cheese, truffle mac and cheese, quattro formaggi mac and cheese, and Kraft mac and cheese. Now, don’t get me wrong—all of the fancy macaroni and cheese dishes have been delectable and enjoyable, but at home, I like a simple, delicious mac and cheese. So here’s my recipe. This dish is best when served during a game or movie night with family and friends. Serves 8 to 10 8 ounces (225 g) elbow macaroni 1½ cups Velveeta cheese (about 7 ounces/190g), cut into ½-inch cubes 2 tablespoons plus 1 teaspoon all-purpose flour 1½ teaspoons kosher salt 1½ teaspoons dry mustard ¼ teaspoon freshly ground black pepper ¼ teaspoon ground nutmeg ⅛ teaspoon cayenne pepper ⅔ cup (165 ml) sour cream 2 large eggs, lightly beaten 1½ cups (360 ml) half-and-half 1½ cups (360 ml) heavy cream ⅓ cup (55 g) grated onion 1 teaspoon Worcestershire sauce 2 cups grated sharp Cheddar cheese (about 8 ounces/230g) • Preheat the oven to 350°F (175°C). Grease a 9-by-13-inch (23-by-33-cm) baking dish. Bring a 4-quart (3.8-L) saucepan of salted water to a boil. Add the pasta and cook it halfway through, about 3 minutes. Drain the pasta and transfer it to the baking dish. Stir in the cubed Velveeta. • Combine the flour, salt, mustard, black pepper, nutmeg, and cayenne in a large mixing bowl. Add the sour cream and eggs and whisk until smooth. Whisk in the half-and-half, cream, onion, Worcestershire sauce, and a sprinkle of black pepper. Pour the egg mixture over the pasta mixture in the prepared baking dish and stir to combine. Sprinkle the Cheddar cheese evenly over the surface. Bake until the pasta mixture is set around the edges but still a bit loose in the center, about 30 minutes. Let it cool for 10 minutes before serving.

You and me are having sex to a movie Or during a move? Or at a move? In a conversation with? At least we're un the dark enough so I don't have to feel bad about my body. At least there's only this light from the actors' faces, floating across my skin. I'm afraid even my orgasms have dimples.

After dessert, they invited me to go with them to the arts center for a Russian film with English subtitles. I said, "I don't like to read during movies," and once Julia laughed it became a joke and made me feel that I was irrepressibly witty. So I went with them. It was the bleakest movie I'd ever seen; everyone died of heartbreak or starvation or both. At home, Julia threw herself on the sofa in Slavic despair and said, "Please do get me some vodka.

Richard Linklater: First, we became a midnight film. We would play for an entire year at certain theaters. They would turn it into a mini-concert where you go in the theater and you could smell the pot smoke. Jason London: I heard stories about how we'd kicked Rocky Horror out of its venues because people wanted to get in to watch Dazed and Confused instead. Anthony Rapp: There was a thing called the Brew and View in Chicago where they served beer and put up a screen at different venues. And I don't know if it was as orchestrated as a Rocky Horror thing but every time Wiley [Wiggins] touched his nose, they drank [me: yeah we did]. Wiley Wiggins: That will kill you! Don't do that!

I closed the doors and turned to tell Clay the disappointing news.  Instead of staying in the living room as I’d thought, he stood right behind me.  All that came out was a strangled “gah.”  He flashed a smile so wide that I saw teeth and couldn’t help but smile back. “Har-har.  I told you no suspense movies.  Life is scary enough without them.  Oh, and false alarm on the cookies.  We’re missing some main ingredients.” He picked up my car keys and dangled them in front of me. “It’s tempting, but unless I want to get a part-time job, I can’t afford to keep spending the money I’ve saved.  I’ve got to stick to the budget so it lasts through till spring.  If we can manage to keep the heat off until November, I should have cookie money for Christmas.  That’s when cookies are best, anyhow.  I’ll just need to start wearing more clothes inside.” I

There you are.  Want some popcorn?” I didn’t wait for an answer but went to the kitchen to get him his own bowl and split the popcorn between the two. In the living room, I set his bowl on the floor within his reach.  Then, I curled into my end of the couch and tucked my feet under him.  With my bowl balanced at my side, I reached for the remote. I’d barely started the movie when he sighed gustily, repositioned himself, and laid his head on my curled legs.  The heat of him relaxed me, and I settled in comfortably, content not to move him.  I ate a piece of popcorn as I watched the intro.  His head shifted on my leg, following the piece of popcorn.  I absently took another piece and offered it to him.  He gently ate it from my fingers.  I offered him a few more pieces, not fully paying attention when he licked the back of my hand. The second movie was more an action-suspense than comedy.  Halfway through the movie, I’d abandoned my bowl of popcorn to the floor.  One of my hands burrowed in the thick fur at Clay’s neck, and the other lightly worried his fuzzy ear.  He didn’t seem to mind my grip as I stared at the screen.  At a particularly suspenseful part, the front door opened.  It scared me so badly that a strangled scream tore through the air.  My scream.  My heart pounded as both Rachel and Clay stared at me. “And that’s why I don’t watch suspense movies,” I said to both of them once I could breathe again.  Clay didn’t stop laughing for two minutes.  Rachel laughed just as hard and thankfully didn’t notice Clay’s reaction. Clay licked my exposed midriff then, finally, settled down. I gently tugged on his ear.  “Cut it out,” I scolded softly. “So

I stood staring at the cake a long time.  How could I be so blind?  He’d shrugged when I’d asked why he’d gotten his job, but the answer, wrapped in layers of sinful chocolate mousse frosting, sat before my eyes. Thinking back, I identified several of the little things I’d previously overlooked.  Things I’d assumed Rachel had purchased, like movies I’d mentioned I wanted to see.  He’d gotten his job for me because of my speech the day after we’d met.  My heart melted a little as I thought of all the effort he’d put into trying to be what I needed, and I knew I fought a losing battle. *

When she’s in a courtroom, Wendy Patrick, a deputy district attorney for San Diego, uses some of the roughest words in the English language. She has to, given that she prosecutes sex crimes. Yet just repeating the words is a challenge for a woman who not only holds a law degree but also degrees in theology and is an ordained Baptist minister. “I have to say (a particularly vulgar expletive) in court when I’m quoting other people, usually the defendants,” she admitted. There’s an important reason Patrick has to repeat vile language in court. “My job is to prove a case, to prove that a crime occurred,” she explained. “There’s often an element of coercion, of threat, (and) of fear. Colorful language and context is very relevant to proving the kind of emotional persuasion, the menacing, a flavor of how scary these guys are. The jury has to be made aware of how bad the situation was. Those words are disgusting.” It’s so bad, Patrick said, that on occasion a judge will ask her to tone things down, fearing a jury’s emotions will be improperly swayed. And yet Patrick continues to be surprised when she heads over to San Diego State University for her part-time work of teaching business ethics. “My students have no qualms about dropping the ‘F-bomb’ in class,” she said. “The culture in college campuses is that unless they’re disruptive or violating the rules, that’s (just) the way kids talk.” Experts say people swear for impact, but the widespread use of strong language may in fact lessen that impact, as well as lessen society’s ability to set apart certain ideas and words as sacred. . . . [C]onsider the now-conversational use of the texting abbreviation “OMG,” for “Oh, My God,” and how the full phrase often shows up in settings as benign as home-design shows without any recognition of its meaning by the speakers. . . . Diane Gottsman, an etiquette expert in San Antonio, in a blog about workers cleaning up their language, cited a 2012 Career Builder survey in which 57 percent of employers say they wouldn’t hire a candidate who used profanity. . . . She added, “It all comes down to respect: if you wouldn’t say it to your grandmother, you shouldn’t say it to your client, your boss, your girlfriend or your wife.” And what about Hollywood, which is often blamed for coarsening the language? According to Barbara Nicolosi, a Hollywood script consultant and film professor at Azusa Pacific University, an evangelical Christian school, lazy script writing is part of the explanation for the blue tide on television and in the movies. . . . By contrast, she said, “Bad writers go for the emotional punch of crass language,” hence the fire-hose spray of obscenities [in] some modern films, almost regardless of whether or not the subject demands it. . . . Nicolosi, who noted that “nobody misses the bad language” when it’s omitted from a script, said any change in the industry has to come from among its ranks: “Writers need to have a conversation among themselves and in the industry where we popularize much more responsible methods in storytelling,” she said. . . . That change can’t come quickly enough for Melissa Henson, director of grass-roots education and advocacy for the Parents Television Council, a pro-decency group. While conceding there is a market for “adult-themed” films and language, Henson said it may be smaller than some in the industry want to admit. “The volume of R-rated stuff that we’re seeing probably far outpaces what the market would support,” she said. By contrast, she added, “the rate of G-rated stuff is hardly sufficient to meet market demands.” . . . Henson believes arguments about an “artistic need” for profanity are disingenuous. “You often hear people try to make the argument that art reflects life,” Henson said. “I don’t hold to that. More often than not, ‘art’ shapes the way we live our lives, and it skews our perceptions of the kind of life we're supposed to live." [DN, Apr. 13, 2014]

Mom, can Lara and Kate come over to our house and then to the movies?" Helen said as Melissa watched from nearby. "Sure," her mom replied. After Kate had walked back inside the room, Melissa walked over and said,"Hey, what are you doing tomorrow? Do you want to hang out?" Kate replied,"Umm, I don't know," with a very guilty look on her face. After Melissa finally had Lara admit what they were doing, she knew Kate was a liar. Moral: If you are a liar, people will have their feelings hurt. If you tell the truth you don't have anything to remember.

date — dinner and a movie. A funeral and burial weren’t supposed

It was a nice distraction to imagine having someone to come home to, someone to cook or watch movies with, someone to share a weekend. All the couple things that were Instagram-worthy: decorating a Christmas tree, selfies on a beach, a kiss on New Year’s. But those dreams were an exotic by-product of a different life, because the reality was that nobody wanted to share hers.

Richard Linklater: A lot of directing is like being a coach. You bring a team together with a common goal, no competition between them. And the coach wants you to be great, to maximize your potential, not just for yourself, but maybe because he gets a victory and he wins the championship and then he gets hired at the next job up the line. I want you to be great because I wanna make a good movie and I want you to be proud to have been in it! That’s just been the way I’ve gotten the best results. Cooperative, collaborative atmosphere, but one goal.

Sheridan laughed. “Go watch the movie.” “No way.” He pressed against her back, sending her pulse skyrocketing. “We’re doing this together.

Maybe a dashingly handsome man strolls down the beach, our eyes lock on one another, which begins our love story. Our story will be so magical it will make even the best of Hallmark movies seem like nothing.

Teresa Giudice: Family is everything to me and so is loyalty. It’s like The Godfather. I’m so loyal. I’m loyal to a fault. If you don’t have loyalty, you have nothing. My brother and Melissa aren’t like that. In fact, I even asked Melissa once, “Did you ever watch the movie The Godfather?” She said, “No.” I said, “You should watch it. You should watch that.

Mark Duplass: There’s this theory amongst a lot of storytellers right now that if you’re creating a television show or a movie, you should set it before the year 2000, because people really want to live in worlds where social media doesn’t exist. It’s the biggest wish fulfillment you can offer audiences right now

The feeling of steadily leaving this place but still remaining inside of it. We say we miss them but we don’t mean them. We mean the autumn we discovered them, when we had our headphones in and felt like we were a movie. We mean the way the breeze felt on our skin that day, while we walked toward our best friend’s house. We mean words put to music that belong on the refrigerator of our hearts, a magnet that holds up a picture of our nephews. We mean a history that was never written for us, those words that found themselves in our mouths and danced out so easily.

When Hollywood studios greenlight movies, they typically make a box-office projection that will create an acceptably big profit, after considering all the revenue expected to follow from DVD, digital, and television sales. Such projections are based on comparisons to similar movies with similar budgets released at similar times of the year, and they always include some level of subjectivity. (Is the remake of Ghostbusters most similar to other Melissa McCarthy comedies? To buddy comedies? To generic summer action films? To the first two Ghostbusters films in the 1980s?) But because executives are judged on whether their movies hit the projections made at greenlight, not whether the movies are simply profitable or not, the projections are supposed to be made as objectively as possible. That was always challenging at Sony, because when Pascal really wanted to make a movie, she sometimes rejected projections she deemed too low. She certainly wasn’t the only studio chief who bent others to his or her will, but it was telling that some executives referred to greenlight meetings at Sony as “enablement sessions” for Pascal. That’s how 2004’s dour James L. Brooks dramedy Spanglish, for instance, was greenlit, with a projection that it would make more than $100 million domestically (it ended up with $43 million).

Movie stars didn’t become irrelevant, but they became very inconsistent in attracting an audience. People used to go to almost any movie with Tom Cruise in it. Between 1992 and 2006, Cruise starred in twelve films that each grossed more than $100 million domestically. He was on an unparalleled streak, with virtually no flops. But in the decade since then, five of Cruise’s nine movies—Knight and Day, Rock of Ages, Oblivion, Edge of Tomorrow, and The Mummy—were box-office disappointments. This was an increasingly common occurrence for A-listers. Will Ferrell and Ben Stiller couldn’t convince anyone to see Zoolander 2. Brad Pitt didn’t attract audiences to Allied. Virtually nobody wanted to see Sandra Bullock in Our Brand Is Crisis. It’s not that they were being replaced by a new generation of stars. Certainly Jennifer Lawrence and Chris Pratt and Kevin Hart and Melissa McCarthy have risen in popularity in recent years, but outside of major franchises like The Hunger Games and Jurassic World, their box-office records are inconsistent as well. What happened? Audiences’ loyalties shifted. Not to other stars, but to franchises. Today, no person has the box-office track record that Cruise once did, and it’s hard to imagine that anyone will again. But Marvel Studios does. Harry Potter does. Fast & Furious does. Moviegoers looking for the consistent, predictable satisfaction they used to get from their favorite stars now turn to cinematic universes. Any movie with “Jurassic” in the title is sure to feature family-friendly adventures on an island full of dinosaurs, no matter who plays the human roles. Star vehicles are less predictable because stars themselves get older, they make idiosyncratic choices, and thanks to the tabloid media, our knowledge of their personal failings often colors how we view them onscreen (one reason for Cruise’s box-office woes has been that many women turned on him following his failed marriage to Katie Holmes).

i am too busy imagining another Boy, what's his name--that guy who plays the Blond Jock in all of the 90s movies, that guy, yeah. i love him because that is what it says i should do in the script & i follow the script.

It doesn't have to be a movie. It could be your life.