Nina Movie Quotes

We love films because they makes us feel something. They speak to our desires, which are never small. They allow us to escape and to dream and to gaze into the eyes that are impossibly beautiful and huge. They fill us with longing. But also. They tell us to remember; they remind us of life. Remember, they say, how much it hurts to have your heart broken.

As much as I had wanted a love story out of a movie, I know now that movies can only hope to to capture this kind of love.

I want to confess. I thought that her story was comprised of scenes. I thought the tragedy could be glamorous and her grief could be undone by a sunnier future. I thought we could pinpoint dramatic events on a time line and call it a life. But I was wrong.

When you live in LA and work in the movies, you experience the collapse of some of that fantasy. You know that the eyes glow like that because of lights placed at a specific angle, and you see the actresses up close and, yes, they are beautiful, but they are human size and imperfect like the rest of us.

I felt that Lionsgate really understood the material and that they would let us make a faithful adaptation; that they wouldn't soften it, they wouldn't age up the characters, to make them older so that it would be more palatable. I felt that the power of the book was in the youth of these protagonists and that you couldn't cheat on that in terms of their age in the story. Lionsgate was on board for, of course, the PG-13 version of the movie, not something full of blood and guts, but something more thematically driven.

As much as I had wanted a love story out of a movie, I know now that movies can only hope to capture this kind of love.

We love films because they make us feel something. They speak to our desires, which are never small. They allow us to escape and to dream and to gaze into eyes that are impossibly beautiful and huge. They fill us with longing. But also. They tell us to remember; they remind us of life. Remember, they say, how much it hurts to have your heart broken. Remember about death and suffering and the complexities of living. Remember what it is like to love someone. Remember how it is to be loved. Remember what you feel in this moment. Remember this. Remember this.

...I think a book adaptation doesn't have to be just like the book, it has to feel like the book. That's what you want. You wand to get the feeling from the movie that you got from the book, and you want the characters to evoke the characters that you fell in love with." -Nina Jacobson

On the way to work, Nina felt pretty chirpy, and put in her earbuds and pretended she was in a movie, smiling at all the people who passed her and saying hello to the dogs. She had this fantasy a lot, that her life was like The Truman Show, that audiences all over the world were enjoying her playlist and hairstyle as much as she was. She would angle her face to the sun to help the lighting guy, or look over her shoulder to give the camera back there something to do. In public Nina was a quiet, reserved person; in private she was an all-singing, all-dancing cavalcade of light and motion.

As soon as I open the door I wish we’d had just a few more minutes, because Ava is standing in the doorway looking movie-star pretty, looking Clyde Jones pretty, and I am facing her in a shirt with a red tomato-sauce smear on the chest, my hair in a messy ponytail, realizing that in spite of all our planning I have no idea how to deliver the news we summoned her to hear.

But honestly, for the last two years that I lived in New York, I went to very few movies. I had a baby. I was laid off. I could not afford child care to go to the movies. Irrationally, I did not want child care. I wanted to take care of my daughter. I was in love with her, Nina, a burning crazy passionate love. My life in New York City pretty much fell apart after she was born.

I thought I might get a cinematic love story, and I've gotten some of that. But sitting here in my parents' house, with Ava a couple feet away from me, eating chow fun and watching Melrose Place, I realize that all of the sets and the props and the performances, the scripts that take years to write; the perfect camera angles and painstaking lighting, the directors that call take after take until it turns out right, the projections on the huge theater screens - so much larger and louder than life - it's all done in hopes of portraying what I'm feeling right now. As much as I had wanted a love story out of a movie, I know now that movies can only hope to capture this kind of love.

In my experience, all it takes is a conversation to reveal that someone who says they hate horror really means that they hate monster movies, but they actually love the entire Final Destination franchise. Or they hate splatter, gore, and body horror, but love a good haunted house or possession story.

Another CSPI campaign successfully convinced movie theaters across America to switch from butter and coconut oil to partially hydrogenated oils in their popcorn poppers.

No one trusted palm or coconut oil anymore. And the result for the public of all these efforts by CSPI, the ASA, and Sokolof was that every packaged food product on supermarket aisles, every serving of french fries and chicken fingers in every major fast-food restaurant, and every tub of movie popcorn were now made with partially hydrogenated oil, which contained trans fats.

No doubt a Cretan or Calabrian peasant might find it ironic that New York socialites and Hollywood movie stars—indeed, nearly all the wealthy peoples on the planet—are now trying to replicate the diet of an impoverished post-war population desperate to improve its lot.

Alfred Hitchcock suffered from anxiety attacks," Sarah told him, "and he said that the sources behind them were, in order, small children, policemen, high places, and that his next movie wouldn't be as good as the last one." "Small children can be terrifying.

Doesn't your Dad give you any money?' Jacob had asked one day, as they sat on the sofa in the upstairs living room watching a movie on HBO. 'Just enough for Nina and Kakak.' 'What about your grandmother? Doesn't she have any money?' 'You bet she does,' Lyssa had said. 'Well, think about what we could do with all that cash.' He kissed her softly on the neck, before moving his hand underneath her blouse. 'We could move to a studio apartment in Hong Kong. Isn't that what you've always wanted?' Lyssa had rolled her eyes, but sunk deeper into his arms, giggling as she kissed him.

Watching movies today is a passive experience, and there is little demand on the viewer's imagination.

The best scary movies are the ones that make you nervous about walking on staircases or turning out the lights. They’re the movies that have you peeping through your fingers at the screen and keep you up at night afterward.

And with our current understanding of how we are influenced by film and television, claims that mass murders and serial killers have been spurred on by watching too many horror movies are grossly inflated, absolutely garbage takes.

Being with Charlie had never been easy, the way that Leo had made their night easy. Charlie viewed Nina as a kind of project. Like trying to perfect how to cook the best scrambled eggs--- she was always too runny, too soft, overdone. Over their two-year relationship, he'd tried to mold her into the kind of chef he was: admired, singular and award-winning. When she deviated from his expectations of her, they fought. But then they'd make up, and the making-up part was why they worked for as long as they had. So being on Leo's couch was the best thing for her--- a reminder that she didn't have to be miserable. Even if she actively had to ignore that espresso smell of his, and how it made her want to nuzzle her nose against his neck to get more. The last hour of eating, drinking and watching the best movie had felt like biting into a freshly baked cookie--- warm and indulgent.

At least, that was what the uplifting movie trailer playing in her head was saying.

In the books and movies, the broken girl always dies at the end. Sometimes she’s allowed one final heroic act, one last snarky line before she goes out. Maybe she sacrifices herself to save the real hero, or maybe her death is just a meaningless accident, an afterthought. But she always dies, because she’s too tarnished to live. Every time I see her die, I’m jealous. That should have been me, a long time ago.

That evening, Nina could see the jacarandas were having their usual giddy effect: Every May, jacaranda trees burst into flower in an improbably riotous display of color. Ranging from deep purple to the palest violet, they bloom together on some prearranged schedule, so one night Angelenos go to bed in Kansas and wake up in Oz. They’re all over the city, hundreds of them, but until they bloom, they’re totally unremarkable. Like dozens of transformation scenes in movies from My Fair Lady to Mean Girls, jacarandas are the previously plain girl who suddenly gets a makeover and emerges triumphant to turn everyone’s head.

The ArcLight was a Hollywood institution, a movie theater with great seats and amazing sound, plus the usual healthy range of unhealthy movie snacks.

My father told me that when he was a kid, it was the best place in Syracuse to go to the movies. I told him I didn't think movies had been invented when he was a kid. He said he loved me, but if I didn't shut up and fill out my audition form, he'd probably kill me. I told him if he really felt that way he should give me a pen.

She grinned and flipped ahead to schedule a Bill Murray movie marathon. See? Even in the most organized life there is room for whimsy. It just needs scheduling. As her heroine Monica Geller would say, Rules help control the fun.