Baby Driver

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Baby Driver is a 2017 action film about a young music-loving getaway driver, Baby, who longs to escape from his life of crime. He struggles to reconcile his responsibilities to his criminal handler, Doc, and his burgeoning romance with good girl Debora.

Written and directed by Edgar Wright.
All you need is one killer track.  (taglines)


  • Do me a favor. Next time Doc calls... Don't pick up.
  • Song is over, Baby. But I'm afraid you still have to face the music.


  • He's been boosting cars since he was old enough to see over the dash. He stole my Mercedes. Had a lot of merch in it. I watched him do it, too. I didn't stop him, though, because I was just blinded by the balls on that kid.
  • Don't feed me any more lines from Monsters, Inc.! It pisses me off!
  • It's gonna take more than a cassette to get you two out of this, because the news is all bad. Well, there is some good news. The good news is you like driving, because you can't take your foot off the gas for the next twenty-five years.


  • You think you're the last word in crazy? You're not. And believe me when I tell you, you don't want to see my Buddy mad. You haven't seen how relentless he is. Because when he sees red, you will see nothing but black.
  • [referencing "Hollaback Girl" by Gwen Stefani] This shit is bananas, Doc. B-A-N-A-N-A-S.


  • What y'all gonna do? Belt out showtunes on the way to the job? You don't need a score for a score. You just put your fucking foot on the gas and drive the goddamn car. That's all the music you need, folks.
  • Look, here's the deal. You rob to support a drug habit. I do drugs to support a robbery habit.
  • Tell me if I'm way off, Buddy: you were a stockbroker. Maybe a different wife, maybe kids. You stack your paper, but you say shit like, "work hard, play hard," but you play a little too hard. You rack up debt. The type of debt that would make a white man blush. Maybe you get into a little trouble. Maybe you get your hand caught in the corporate cookie jar. Maybe you leave and run off to the desert, maybe with your favorite lap dancer in tow. Maybe you disappear into a world consisting of three things: money, sex, drugs, and action. Oh, shit, that's four. Am I close?


Griff: [indicating Baby.] What's his deal?
Doc: Oh, Baby? Full cut, same as everyone.
Griff: No, Doc. I mean, is he, uh, retarded?
Doc: "Retarded" means slow. Was he slow?
Griff: No.
Doc: Then he don't sound retarded to me. He's a good kid and a devil behind the wheel. What the hell else more do you need to know?

Bats: What the fuck is this mask?
JD: Austin Powers.
Eddie: Doc said Michael Myers!
JD: This is Mike Myers!
Bats: This should be the Halloween mask!
JD: This is a Halloween mask!
Bats: No, the killer dude from Halloween!
JD: Oh, you mean Jason.
Eddie & Bats: No!

Armie: We've met before, right?
Bats: I don't know. You're still alive, right?
Armie: Uh huh.
Bats: Then I guess we ain't ever met.

Doc: We are twenty-four hours from being descended upon by this entire city.
Bats: Those pigs are in hog heaven. The only way they can I.D. us is with a Ouija board or some shit.
Doc: Well, your name only takes four letters to spell out.
Bats: Doc, "Bats" ain't my real fucking name!
Doc: It's over, "Leon." Get out of town.


  • All you need is one killer track.
  • Every road out takes him right back in.
  • This year, volume up, pedal down.
  • This summer, the only way out is to getaway.

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