Collateral (film)

Collateral is a 2004 film film about a cab driver who finds himself the hostage of an engaging contract killer as he makes his rounds from hit to hit during one night in Los Angeles.

Directed by Michael Mann and written by Stuart Beattie.

It started like any other night.

Vincent

17 million people. This is got to be the fifth biggest economy in the world and nobody knows each other. I read about this guy who gets on the MTA here, dies.
Six hours he's riding the subway before anybody notices his corpse doing laps around L.A., people on and off sitting next to him. Nobody notices.
Lady Macbeth, we're sitting here and the light's green. Leave the seats. You no longer have the cleanest cab in La-La Land. You gotta live with that. Focus on the job. Drive.
Okay, look, here's the deal. Man, you were gonna drive me around tonight, never be the wiser, but El Gordo got in front of a window, did his high dive, we're into Plan B. Still breathing? Now we gotta make the best of it, improvise, adapt to the environment, Darwin, shit happens, I Ching, whatever man, we gotta roll with it.
I am a cool guy, with a job I contracted to do.
[after the nightclub shootout] Only thing that didn't show up is the Polish cavalry.
Don't get me cornered. You don't have the trunk space.
If you open that trunk, they go inside.
Yo, homie. Is that my briefcase?
[after Max crashes the cab] Well, that was brilliant...
[after Max destroys his briefcase] All my prep was in there! You are screwing with my work! Let's see what else you can do.
Max, I do this for a living!
You attract attention, you're going to get people killed who didn't need to be.
Well, tens of thousands killed before sundown. Nobody's killed people that fast since Nagasaki and Hiroshima. Did you bat an eye, Max?
Most people, ten years from now, same job, same place, same routine. Everything the same. Just keeping it safe over and over and over. Ten years from now. Man, you don’t know where you’ll be ten minutes from now . . .
[aims a handgun at Max] Red light, Max.
Get with it. Millions of galaxies of hundreds of millions of stars, and a speck on one in a blink. That's us, lost in space. The cop, you, me... Who notices?
Guy told me about this place off Crenshaw. Leimert Park. All the West Coast greats played there. Dexter Gordon, Charlie Mingus, Chet Baker, like that.
How's this? I'll ask a question. A jazz question. Now, you get it right, we roll. You disappear tonight.
Dropped out of Juilliard after less than a year. Tracked down Charlie Parker on 52nd street, who mentored him for the next 3 years.
There's no good reason, there's no bad reason to live or to die.
I'm full of shit? You're a monument of it. You even bullshitted yourself, all I am is taking out the garbage, killing bad people.
[Mockingly] "Someday, someday my dream will come?" One night you'll wake up and you'll discover it never happened. It's all turned around on you, and it never will. Suddenly you are old. It didn't happen, and it never will because you were never going to do it anyway. You'll push it into memory, then zone out in your barcalounger, being hypnotized by daytime TV for the rest of your life. Don't you talk to me about murder. All it ever took was a down payment on a Lincoln Town Car, and that girl... you can't even call that girl. What the fuck are you still doing driving a cab?
Six hours he's riding the subway before anybody notices his corpse doing laps around L.A., people on and off sitting next to him. Nobody notices.
Hey, Max, a guy gets on the MTA here in L.A. and dies. Think anybody will notice?

Max Duorcher

If there were two of us I'd have to kill the other one. I don't like competition.
There's the dark pin-stripe suit, elegant, not too flashy, that rules out advertising, plus a top-drawer briefcase that you live out of. And the purse. A Bottega. Anyway, a man gets in my cab with a sword, I figure he's a sushi chef. You: Clarence Darrow.
[about Vincent] Definitely not from around here.
I'm not trying to piss you off, but I can't do this. I can't drive you while you go around killing people. It ain't my job.
Why didn't you just kill me and get another cab driver?
You the one talking about improvisation. You like the guy, you like how he plays. Let's just play a little Jazz.
If I'm wrong you get an apology, I already used up my free ride for tonight.
You played him, man. He got the answer right, would you have let him go?
If somebody had a gun to your head and said: "You gotta tell me what's going on with this person over here or I'm gonna kill you." What is driving him? What was he thinking? You know, you couldn't do it, could you, because they would have to kill your ass because you don't know what anyone else is thinking. I think you're low, my brother. Way low. Like, what were you? One of those institutionalized raised guys? Anyone home? The standard parts that are supposed to be there in people, in you aren't. And why haven't you killed me yet?
Because I never straightened up and looked at it, you know? Myself. I should have. I've tried to gamble my way out, but that was just a born-to-Iose deal. It's gotta be perfect. It's got to be perfect to go. Risk all torqued down. I could've done it anytime I wanted to.
But you know what? New news: It doesn't matter anyway. What does it matter anyway? We're all insignificant out here in this big-ass nowhere. The Twilight Zone shit. Says the badass sociopath in my back seat. But you know what? That's the one thing I gotta thank you for, bro. Because until now, I never looked at it that way. What does it matter? It don't, so fuck it. Fix it. What do we got to lose anyway, right?
[right before he crashes the cab, to Vincent] You know what, Vincent? Go fuck yourself!
We're almost at the next stop.

Dialogue

Max: How do you like being a lawyer?

Annie: What are you, psychic?

Max: Little bit. There's the dark pin-stripe suit, elegant, not too flashy, that rules out advertising, plus a top-drawer briefcase that you live out of. And the purse. A Bottega. Anyway, a man gets in my cab with a sword, I figure he's a sushi chef. You: Clarence Darrow.

Annie: Well, how many cabbies do you know get you into an argument to save you money?

Max: If there were two of us I'd have to kill the other one. I don't like competition.

Vincent: What's your name?

Max: Max.

Vincent: Max. I'm Vincent.

Max: First time in L.A.?

Vincent: No. Tell you the truth, whenever I'm here I can't wait to leave. It's too sprawled out, disconnected. You know? That's me. You like it?

Max: It's my home.

Vincent: 17 million people. This is got to be the fifth biggest economy in the world and nobody knows each other. I read about this guy who gets on the MTA here, dies.

Max: Oh.

Vincent: Six hours he's riding the subway before anybody notices his corpse doing laps around L.A., people on and off sitting next to him. Nobody notices.

Max Durocher: [Ramone Ayala's corpse falls onto the roof of Max's windshield, frightening him] OH NO!!! SHIT!!! [gets out of his cab] What the hell?! My man, are you alright?! [looks at the window where he fell] Fuck! [Vincent shows up] Hey, Hey. He fell on the cab! He fell from up there on the motherfucking cab! Shit, I think he's dead!

Vincent: Good guess.

Max Durocher: You...you killed him?

Vincent: No, I shot him. The bullets and the fall killed him. [pulls out his gun and aims it at Max] Red light, Max!

Max Durocher: Whoah, hold on, hold on.

Vincent: Put your hands down. Put your hands down!

Max Durocher: Okay, okay.

Vincent: Okay, help me out. Pop the trunk.

Max Durocher: What?

Vincent: Pop the trunk. [Max opens up the trunk]

Max Durocher: Come on. What are you doing?

Vincent: I'm gonna roll him off the roof. Can't leave him here, so unless you want him upfront with you, but given the hygene...[rolls Ramone's corpse off the roof of Max's taxi] It's only a dead guy. Grab his hands.

Max Durocher: I can't do this.

Vincent: Grab his wrists. [Vincent and Max lift Ramone's body off the ground] You got it?

Max Durocher: Yeah, he's twitching and shit. [they put Ramone's body in the trunk. Vincent washes off the bloodstain with a bottle of water] Let's go.

Max Durocher: Hey, why don't you just take the cab?

Vincent: Take the cab?

Max Durocher: Yeah, you take it. I'll - I'll chill. I'll - I'll just chill. They don't even know who's driving these things half the time anyway. They never check or anything. Okay... so... just - just take it. You, me...

Vincent: You promise not to tell anybody right?

Max Durocher: Yeah... yeah... yeah... Promise.

Vincent: Get in the fucking car. [Max gets into the car, Vincent goes into the car with him and drive off]

Vincent: Lady Macbeth, we're sitting here and the light's green. Leave the seats. You no longer have the cleanest cab in La-La Land. You gotta live with that. Focus on the job. Drive. 7565 Fountain. You know it?

Max Durocher: West Hollywood.

Vincent: How long you figure?

Max Durocher: I don't know, man, 17 minutes. Why? Oh, no. No, no, no. Hold on, man.

Vincent: I told you we had other stops to make tonight.

Max Durocher: You said you had to go and visit some friends.

Vincent: Well, they're somebody's friends. You drive a cab, I make my rounds, you might make it through the night, come out 700 bucks ahead.

Max Durocher: I'm not trying to piss you off, but I can't do this. I can't drive you while you go around killing people. It ain't my job.

Vincent: Tonight it is.

Max Durocher: Look, you don't get it. I mean it. I mean it. I'm not up for this.

Vincent: Okay, hey, hey, hey. You're stressed. I understand that. Now, you just keep breathing and stay calm. Okay, look, here's the deal. Man, you were gonna drive me around tonight, never be the wiser, but El Gordo got in front of a window, did his high dive, we're into Plan B. Still breathing? Now we gotta make the best of it, improvise, adapt to the environment, Darwin, shit happens, I Ching, whatever man, we gotta roll with it.

Max Durocher: I Ching? What are you talking about, man? You threw a man out of a window.

Vincent: I didn't throw him. He fell.

Max Durocher: Well what did he do to you?

Vincent: What?

Max Durocher: What did he do to you?

Vincent: Nothing. I only met him tonight.

Max Durocher: You just met him once and you killed him like that?

Vincent: What? I should only kill people after I get to know them? Max, six billion people on the planet, you're getting bent out of shape cause of one fat guy.

Max Durocher: Well, who was he?

Vincent: What do you care? Have you ever heard of Rwanda?

Max Durocher: Yes, I know Rwanda.

Vincent: Well, tens of thousands killed before sundown. Nobody's killed people that fast since Nagasaki and Hiroshima. Did you bat an eye, Max?

Max Durocher: What?

Vincent: Did you join Amnesty International, Oxfam, Save the Whales, Greenpeace, or something? No. I off one fat Angelino and you throw a hissy fit.

Max Durocher: Man, I don't know any Rwandans.

Vincent: You don't know the guy in the trunk, either. Okay, if it makes you feel any better, he was a criminal involved in a continuing criminal enterprise.

Max Durocher: What are you doing? You just taking out the garbage?

Vincent: Yeah, something like that.

Vincent: Hands on the wheel.

Max Durocher: Why?

Vincent: Because I say so. (ties up Max's hands to the steering wheel with zip tie)

Lenny: Max, Max! You out there you son of a bitch?!

Vincent: Who is that?

Max Durocher: That's Lenny. It's just dispatch.

Lenny: Max, I know you're out there. Answer the goddamn call.

Vincent: What happens if you don't?

Max Durocher: He just keeps calling me.

Lenny: Max, answer.

Max Durocher: Yeah, Lenny, what's up? It's me.

Lenny: Just got off the phone with the cops. Desk sergeant called to check if you brought the cab in?

Max Durocher: Yeah, so?

Lenny: So, aside from I hate talking to cops, they tell me you crashed the goddamn cab?

Max Durocher: No, no, I got crashed into. I didn't...

Lenny: Do I care what, where, why? You're paying.

Vincent: [to Max] It was an accident. You're not liable.

Max Durocher: It was an accident. I'm not liable.

Lenny: Bullshit. I'm making you liable. It's coming out of your goddamn pocket.

Vincent: [to Max] You tell him to stick this cab up his fat ass.

Max Durocher: I can't do that, that's my boss.

Vincent: So?

Max Durocher: I need my job.

Vincent: No, you don't.

Lenny: Still there? I'm talking to you. Max. Max!

Vincent: [over the radio] He's not paying you a damn thing.

Lenny: Who the hell is this?

Vincent: Albert Ricardo, Assistant U.S. Attorney, a passenger in this cab, and I'm reporting you to the DMV.

Lenny: Let's not, oh, let's not get excited.

Vincent: Not get excited? How am I supposed to not get excited? Listen, you try to extort a working man. You know goddamn well your collision policy and general liability umbrella will cover the damages. And what are you trying to pull, you sarcastic prick?

Lenny: Look, I was just trying to...

Vincent: Tell it to him. [to Max] Tell him he's an asshole. Go ahead.

Max Durocher: [to Lenny] You're an asshole.

Vincent: Tell him he pulls this shit again, you're gonna stick this yellow cab up his fat ass.

Max Durocher: [to Lenny] And, and next time you pull any shit, I'm gonna... I'm gonna have to stick this yellow cab up... up your fat ass.

Daniel Baker: No, now, see, I was about 19, bussing tables right here. The money wasn't shit, but that wasn't the point. It was about being around the music. And I was. I mean, take this one night. July 22nd, 1964. Who you think walks through that door? Miles Davis. That's right. I'm talking about, through those doors, the coolest man on the planet. Anyway, he had been at a recording session up at Columbia, up on Vine. So Miles comes through that door. Before you know it, he's up on the bandstand, jamming with the band.

Vincent: I mean, it had to be.

Daniel Baker: I mean, the dude was so focused, man. Plus, he was kind of a scary cat anyway, man. I mean, everybody and their mama knew that you don't just come up and talk to Miles Davis. I mean, he may have looked like he was chilling, but he was absorbed. This one young, hip couple, one of them tried to shake his hand one day. And the guy says, "Hi, my name is..." Miles said, "Get the fuck out of my face, you jive motherfucker. Take your silly bitch with you." You know? That's... That was Miles, man. That's the way he was when he was in his musical headspace. Fierce.

Vincent: But did you get to talk to him?

Daniel Baker: Better than that. I played for about 20 minutes.

Vincent: Unbelievable.

Max Durocher: How'd you do?

Daniel Baker: How'd I do? Well, you really ain't shit when you're playing next to Miles Davis. But he carried my ass.

Vincent: What did he say?

Daniel Baker: He said one word, "Cool."

Vincent: "Cool"? That's it?

Daniel Baker: Yeah. That meant, "Good, but not ready." It meant, "Look me up when you are."

Vincent: Did you?

Daniel Baker: No. I got drafted and got into some other things. And by the time I got back to music, the season had passed. But, you know, I was born in 1945, but that night was the moment of my conception. Right here in this room.

Vincent: [notices a waitress leaving] Crowd's not here now.

Daniel Baker: Well, jazz ain't the draw that it used to be.

Vincent: What a great story. I got to tell the people in Culiacán and Cartagena that story.

Daniel Baker: [stops] You know the folks in Culiacán and Cartagena?

Vincent: Afraid so.

Daniel Baker: Just when I thought you were a cool guy.

Vincent: I am a cool guy...with a job that I'm contracted to do.

Max Durocher: Come on, Vincent. Give the dude a pass.

Vincent: I'm working here.

Max Durocher: You the one talking about improvisation. You like the guy, you like how he plays. Let's just play a little Jazz, come on.

Vincent: Improvise. That's funny coming from you. [to Daniel] How's this? I'll ask a question.

Daniel Baker: What question?

Vincent: A jazz question. Now, you get it right, we roll. You disappear tonight.

Daniel Baker: If I walk out of here tonight, I will go so far away, it'll be just like I was dead. And one more thing: These people and their rep here, Felix. Well, you tell them I'm sorry. You tell them I had to. They laid a grant of immunity on me. I was compelled. It was either play ball or go back inside. And I'm not going back inside.

Vincent: Yeah.

Daniel Baker: Lay it on me.

Vincent: Where did Miles learn music?

Daniel Baker: I know everything there is to know about Miles.

Vincent: Then let's have it.

Max Durocher: Music school. [to Daniel] He got it in music school, right?

Daniel Baker: His father was a dentist, East St. Louis. Invested in agriculture, made plenty of money. He sent Miles to Juilliard School of Music, New York, 1945. [Vincent shoots Daniel three times in the head with a silenced pistol, frightening Max. Vincent catches Daniel's chin mid air and gently lays his head down on the table and puts his hand up to make it look like he passed out drunk]

Vincent: Dropped out of Juilliard after less than a year. Tracked down Charlie Parker on 52nd street, who mentored him for the next 3 years. [Vincent follows a frightened Max outside the Jazz club] Hey.

Max Durocher: No. No, I'm done. Find you another cab.

Vincent: Max.

Max Durocher: Leave me alone. I'm collateral anyway. [Vincent punches Max three times in the chest, grabs him by his neck and pins him against his taxi]

Vincent: I'm not playing.

Max Durocher: You played him, man. He got the answer right, would you have let him go?

Lenny: [on the radio] This is 102. This is 102. Max?

Vincent: What is it with this guy? [talks to Lenny] You hassling my driver again?

Lenny: Who are you?

Vincent: The same guy you talked to last time.

Lenny: Max's mother is driving me crazy. Put him on the line, please.

Vincent: [to Max] Carefully.

Max Durocher: Yeah.

Lenny: Your mother's calling every ten minutes. Why didn't you show? Are you alright? Where are you?

Vincent: Show for what?

Max Durocher: Tell her I can't make it tonight.

Lenny: I'm not related to her. You tell her yourself.

Vincent: Show for what?

Max Durocher: She's in the hospital.

Vincent: You visit her every night?

Max Durocher: Yeah. What difference does it make?

Vincent: You don't show up, it breaks routine.

Max Durocher: So?

Vincent: So people start looking for you, this cab. That's not good.

Max Durocher: I'm not taking you to see my mother.

Vincent: Since when was any of this negotiable?

Vincent: [Visiting Ida] Flowers?

Max: It's a waste of money. Won't mean a thing to her.

Vincent: [Staring him down] She carried you in her womb for nine months. People buy flowers. Buy flowers.

Max: I brought you flowers.

Ida: What'm I do with flowers?

Max: Cheer up.

Ida: How? By worrying that you spend money on stuff that's just gon' wilt and die?

Max: [to Vincent] See what I mean? I didn't buy you flowers, Mom. He did.

Vincent: They project onto you their flaws, what they don't like about themselves. I had a father like that.

Max: Mothers are worse.

Vincent: Wouldn't know. My mother died before I remember her.

Max: What about your father?

Vincent: Hated everything I did. Got drunk, beat me up. In and out of foster homes, that kinda thing.

Max: And then?

Vincent: I killed him. I was twelve.

[Pauses, then laughs]

Vincent: I'm kidding. He died of liver disease.

Max: Well, I'm sorry.

Vincent: No, you're not.

Fanning: [cops are in alley outside Ramon's apartment] Ramon went through that window... splat. Glass here, then tires rolled over it.

Richard Weidner: Maybe he jumped.

Fanning: Sure... he's depressed so he jumps four stories out of a window onto his head. "Wow, that feels better." Picks himself up. "Now I think I'll go on with the rest of my day."

Pedrosa: What's up? Why do you want to know about our case?

Fanning: Any unusual activity tonight?

Pedrosa: Like what?

Fanning: That relates to a series of murders in Wilshire Central or West Hollywood?

Pedrosa: All quiet on the western front. Various people are asleep. Various people are awake. They come and go in cars, pickups, taxis. Other than that, we watch the air move.

Max: How long have you been doing this? In case anyone asks?

Vincent: Private sector? Six years.

Max: Uh... you get health benefits? Pension...?

Vincent: No, and no paid vacation. Quit stalling, and get in there.

Felix: Now you're here. Why?

Max: I lost my stuff. The list.

Felix: I want you to listen to me real well. Special groups put together the list of dedos.

Max: Dedos?

Felix: Fingers, informants. Signal interceptions with voice-recognition software, surveillance. A very expensive counter-intelligence worked up that list. An important list, wouldn't you say? And you lost it?

Max: Yeah, I'm sorry. Sorry.

Felix: Sorry? 'Sorry' does not put Humpty Dumpty back together again.

Felix: Do you believe in Santa Claus?

Max: No.

Felix: Nor do I. Nor do I, but my children do. They are still small. But do you know who they like even better than Santa Claus? His helper, Pedro el Negro. Black Peter. There's an old Mexican tale that tells of how Santa Claus got so very busy looking out for the good children that he had to hire some help to look out for the bad children. So he hired Pedro. And Santa Claus gave him a list with all the names of all the bad children. And Pedro would come every night to check them out. And the people, the little kids that were misbehaving, that were not saying their prayers, Pedro would leave a little toy donkey on their window. A little burro. And he would come back, and if the children were still misbehaving, Pedro would take them away, and nobody would ever see them again. Now, if I am being Santa Claus, and you are Pedro, how do you think jolly Santa Claus would feel if one day Pedro came into his office and said, "I lost the list."? How FUCKING FURIOUS do you think he will get?

Felix: What do you think?

Max: I think...

[Max sees one of Felix's bodyguard draw his gun out]

Max: I think you should you should tell that guy behind me to put his gun down.

Felix: What?

Max: I said I think you should tell that guy behind me to put his gun down, before I take it and beat his bitch ass to death with it.

Max: The fat man, the penthouse guy, the jazz man. That leaves two.

Felix: Can you finish?

Max: In six years, when have I not?

Fanning: [referring to Max] According to the cab company's dispatch unit, he's been driving that cab for twelve years.

Pedrosa: So what?

Fanning: So you're telling me the guy walks into a phone booth, and shazam, changes into a meat-eater super assassin? What's he do, squeeze them in between fares?

Vincent: Only thing didn't show up is the Polish cavalry. You're alive. I saved you. Do I get any thanks? No. All you can do is clam up. You wanna talk? Tell me to fuck off?

Max Durocher: [mad at Vincent for killing Fanning] Fuck off. You had to kill Fanning?

Vincent: Who the fuck is Fanning?

Max Durocher: Fanning, the cop! Why did you have to kill him? He's probably got a family! Kids that are gonna grow up without him! He believed me!

Vincent: Oh, I should've saved him because he believed you?

Max Durocher: No, no, not that!

Vincent: Yeah, that.

Max Durocher: Well, yeah, that. What's wrong with that?

Vincent: It's what I do for a living.

Max Durocher: Some living.

Vincent: Head downtown.

Max Durocher: What's downtown?

Vincent: How are you at math? I was hired for 5 hits, I did 4.

Max Durocher: Why didn't you just kill me and get another cab driver?

Vincent: Cause you're good. We're in this together. Fates intertwined. Cosmic coincidence.

Max Durocher: You're full of shit.

Vincent: I'm full of shit? You're a monument of it. You even bullshitted yourself, all I am is taking out the garbage, killing bad people.

Max Durocher: Yeah, well that's what you said.

Vincent: You believed me?

Max Durocher: Then what'd they do?

Vincent: How do I know, you know? They all got that 'witness for the prosecution' look to me. Probably some major federal indictment of somebody who majorly does not want to get indicted.

Max Durocher: So that's the reason?

Vincent: That's the why. There's no good reason, there's no bad reason to live or to die.

Max Durocher: Then what are you?

Vincent: I'm indifferent. Get with it. Millions of galaxies of hundreds of millions of stars, and a speck on one in a blink. That's us, lost in space. The cop, you, me... Who notices?

Max Durocher: What's with you?

Vincent: As in?

Max Durocher: As in, if somebody had a gun to your head and said: "You gotta tell me what's going on with this person over here or I'm gonna kill you". What is driving him? What was he thinking? You know, you couldn't do it, could you, because... They would have to kill your ass because you don't know what anyone else is thinking. I think you're low, my brother. Way low. Like, what were you? One of those institutionalized raised guys? Anybody home? And standard– And the standard parts that are supposed to be there in people, in you... aren't. And why haven't you killed me yet?

Vincent: Of all the cabbies in L.A. I get Max: Sigmund Freud meets Dr. Ruth.

Max Durocher: Answer the question.

Vincent: Look in the mirror. Paper towels, clean cab, limo company someday. How much you got saved?

Max Durocher: That ain't none of your business.

Vincent: [Mockingly] "Someday, someday my dream will come?" One night you'll wake up and you'll discover it never happened. It's all turned around on you, and it never will. Suddenly you are old. It didn't happen, and it never will because you were never going to do it anyway. You'll push it into memory, then zone out in your barcalounger, being hypnotized by daytime TV for the rest of your life. Don't you talk to me about murder. All it ever took was a down payment on a Lincoln Town Car, and that girl... you can't even call that girl. What the fuck are you still doing driving a cab?

Max Durocher: Because I never straightened up and looked at it, you know? Myself. I should have. [Max starts speeding up the cab] I've tried to gamble my way out, but that was just a born-to-Iose deal.

Vincent: Slow down.

Max Durocher: It's gotta be perfect. It's got to be perfect to go. Risk all torqued down. I could've done it anytime I wanted to.

Vincent: Red light. [Max continues to speed through the empty streets at 60mph]

Max Durocher: But you know what? New news: It doesn't matter anyway. What does it matter anyway? We're all insignificant out here in this big-ass nowhere. The Twilight Zone shit. Says the badass sociopath in my back seat! But you know what? That's the one thing I gotta thank you for, bro. Because until now, I never looked at it that way. What does it matter? It don't, so fuck it. Fix it. What do we got to lose anyway, right?

Vincent: [pulls out his Heckler & Koch USP45 and aims it at Max's head] Slow down!

Max Durocher: Why? You gonna shoot me? You gonna pull the trigger and kill us? Go ahead, shoot my ass.

Vincent: Slow the hell down!

Max Durocher: What are you gonna do? You gonna shoot me? You gonna shoot me? You gonna kill us? Well, shoot my ass, then! Huh? Shoot me!

Vincent: Slow down!

Max Durocher: You're right. You know what, Vincent? Go fuck yourself! [Max flips the cab over and crashes it into the empty street]

[Vincent tries to kill Annie in the dark office building]

Max Durocher: Let her go.

Vincent: Max? Why? What are you gonna do about it? [Max shoots a chunk out of Vincent's ear with Vincent's Heckler & Koch USP45]

Vincent: MAX! I DO THIS FOR A LIVING!!! [the lights turn off and Vincent and Max start shooting at each other. The lights come back on, Max hasn't been hit by Vincent, but Vincent was hit by Max. Vincent attempts to reload, but his magazine drops to the floor. He lowers his gun, accepts defeat and sits down. Max sits across from him]

Max Durocher: We're almost at the next stop.

Vincent: Hey, Max. a guy gets on the MTA here in L.A. and dies. Think anybody will notice? [Vincent succumbs to his wound and dies in front of Max and Annie]

Cast

Tom Cruise - Vincent
Jamie Foxx - Max
Jada Pinkett Smith - Annie
Mark Ruffalo - Fanning
Peter Berg - Richard Weidner
Javier Bardem - Felix
Bruce McGill - Pedrosa
Irma P. Hall - Ida
Barry Shabaka Henley - Daniel

External links

Wikipedia

Wikipedia has an article about:

Collateral (film)

Collateral quotes at the Internet Movie Database
Collateral at Rotten Tomatoes