Revolver is a 2005 film centered on a revenge-seeking confidence trickster whose weapon is a universal formula that guarantees victory to its user, when applied to any game or confidence trick. This is the third feature film by Ritchie which is centered on crime and professional criminals.
- Written and directed by Guy Ritchie.
- There is something about yourself that you don't know. Something that you will deny even exists, until it's too late to do anything about it. It's the only reason you get up in the morning. The only reason you suffer the shitty boss, the blood, the sweat and the tears. This is because you want people to know how good, attractive, generous, funny, wild and clever you really are. Fear or revere me, but please, think I'm special. We share an addiction. We're approval junkies. We're all in it for the slap on the back and the gold watch. The hip-hip-hoo-fuckin' rah. Look at the clever boy with the badge, polishing his trophy. Shine on you crazy diamond, because we're just monkeys wrapped in suits, begging for the approval of others.
- One thing I've learned in the last seven years: in every game and con there's always an opponent, and there's always a victim. The trick is to know when you're the latter, so you can become the former.
- [In an elevator] Now I've got to spend the next two minutes, shaking... and sweating... like a crack whore clucking for a fix... Should have taken the stairs... cause it's getting very... very tight in here.
- Oh, I know you're still there... cause I can feel you dying. I can hear you tapping me... for a little nutrition. Now who's looking for a fix? It gets a little tight in here, do you? Well, you're not wrong... cause the walls are moving in. No food here. Not today, sunshine. My eyes are open and the restaurant's closed. Jog on. Slide off. Find someone else to fill your pipe. Someone, who won't see you coming... or know, when you're there.
- Why are they dragging this on? They could just clean me out in one hit. They want me to suffer. These twisted bastards are making me pay. Pay for my own pain. Hands down, that's the most radical concept I have ever heard of......and a part of me dies everytime I think about it. I told myself if this is the last round, they'll have to tear me out, piece by piece, but this I can't take. They've found a weakness. Caught me fair and square, cross-haired, blind-folded, one foot in the grave and two hands on the coffin. I'm cooked, well done, stick a fork in me and see if I bleed. I'm stuck in a trance...somewhere between hell and a hard place...in a gear that doesn't exist, and all I want now...is a little peace.
- So how exactly did this one manage to disarm and overpower a four-time national bodybuilding champion? Drag him half a block, throw him over six-foot wall, and then fed him to his own gun?
- Why don't you just fucking rape me, Paul?
- You got a big mouth, on small head “Sunshine”!
- The greatest con, that he ever pulled... was making you believe... that he is you.
- Zach: Did you get anything from the old lady?
- Jake: No.
- Zach: Did you get anything from Horowitz?
- Jake: No.
- Zach: Why not?
- Jake: Because he didn't have it.
- Zach: Listen, pal. Either he pays or you pay.
- Jake: I pay anyway.
- Zach: Don't be a smartass.
- French Paul: It was a 12-ton Herman and Ziegler safe, Mister D. It was impossible to break into.
- Macha: Well, it wasn't fucking impossible to move, now, was it, Paul?