Falling Down

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Falling Down is a 1993 drama film about an unemployed defense worker frustrated with the various flaws he sees in society, who begins to psychotically and violently lash out against them.

Directed by Joel Schumacher. Written by Ebbe Roe Smith.
A Tale Of Urban Reality.taglines

Bill Foster[edit]

  • [First line] I'm going home.
  • [Before destroying merchandise in a Korean drug store] I'm rolling prices back to 1965! What do you think of that?
  • What about the briefcase? You forgot the briefcase! [After foiling a mugging attempt on said briefcase]
  • [Foster has just attacked the gang members on the hill] Clear a path, you motherfucker! Clear a path! I'm going home!
  • [Bill Foster approaches the gang after they crashed] You missed. [Foster picks up the UZI and shoots the car] I missed too. [Foster threatens the gang member as he begs for his life. Foster shoots him in the ankle] You see, that's the concept. Take some shooting lessons, asshole.
  • [picking up the pathetic hamburger he just ordered, comparing it to the picture behind the counter] Can anybody tell me what's wrong with this picture?
  • [to customer at Whammyburger] You enjoying your meal? [customer chokes food onto tray] Hey, I think we have a critic! I don't think she likes the special sauce, Rick.
  • God bless the working stiff!
  • I am not a vigilante. I am just trying to get home to my little girl's birthday. Now if everyone will just stay out of my way, then nobody will get hurt.
  • Why have you put barbed wire on a fence? Is this how you rich people amuse yourselves? You put barbed wire on the fence so innocent people like me can hurt themselves lurking in?
  • I lost my job. Actually I didn't lose it. It lost me. I'm overeducated, underskilled—Maybe it's the other way around. I forget—but I'm obsolete. I'm not economically viable. I can't even support my own kid.
  • You have a choice. I can kill you, or you can kill me, and my daughter can collect the insurance.


  • [after a gay man tips over a sunglass rack on Nick's counter] Fucking faggots! Alternate lifestyle my ass! Imagine what those pumpkins do with each other when they're alone! And what about the muff divers? Think about it!
  • You know what was in this? Zyklon-B! You remember? What the Nazis had! Listen! [shakes can, a slight rattle is heard] Empty! This was used, man! This was actually used! I wonder how many kikes this little can took out? Huh?! Think about it!
  • Fuck.... look at this shit! [picks up snowglobe] What is this doing in here? Faggot shit! [throws snowglobe] Who the fuck are you, you fuck! You faggot fuck!


  • Fuck you, Captain Yardley. Fuck you very much.


[Bill Foster exits his car in the middle of the highway]
Man on Freeway: Hey, where do you think you're going?
Bill Foster: I'm going home!

[at Whammyburger]
Sheila: Hi, can I help you?
Bill Foster: Yes, I'd like a ham and cheese whamlet and some whammy fries--
Sheila: I'm sorry, we've stopped serving breakfast but we are on the lunch menu now.
Bill Foster: But I want breakfast.
Sheila: You can't have it, we're not serving it.
Bill Foster: So you said. Is that the manager?
Sheila: (sighs) Yeah.
Bill Foster: Could I speak to him please?
Sheila: Sure. Rick, there's a customer who would like to speak with you.
[a young man with a happy smile walks up to the counter]
Rick: Yes, sir?
Bill Foster: Hi. I'd like some breakfast?
Rick: We stopped serving breakfast.
Bill Foster: I know you stopped serving breakfast Rick, Sheila told me that you... why am I calling you by your first names? I don't even know you. I still call my boss 'Mister' even though I've been working with him for seven years, but all of a sudden I walk in here and I'm calling you Rick and Sheila like we're in some kind of AA meeting and... I don't want to be your buddy, Rick. I just want a little breakfast?
Sheila: You can call me Miss Folsom if you want.
Rick: Sheila. We stopped serving breakfast at 11:30.
[Foster looks at his watch to find it's 3 minutes past the deadline. He places his gym bag full of guns on the counter.]
Bill Foster: Rick, have you ever heard the expression "the customer is always right"?
Rick: (sighs) Yeah.
Bill Foster: Well, here I am. The customer.
Rick: (still smiling) That's not our policy. You'll have to order something from the lunch menu.
Bill Foster: I don't want lunch. I want breakfast.
Rick: Yeah, well hey, I'm really sorry.
Bill Foster: (smiles back) Yeah, well hey, I'm real sorry too. (pulls out a TEC-9)
Customer: He's got a gun!
Bill Foster: Let's get organized! Calm down! Just calm down, everybody. Sit down sit down over there! hey hey hey Mister. Where are you going? No no no no. You sit down there, and you finish your lunch. come on Everybody just relax and take it easy. Eat your lunch. Please. You all need your vitamins A, B and-- Don't! It was an accident! It's the trigger. It's sensitive. It's okay! It's a sensitive trigger. Rick Could I have my breakfast? please.
Rick: Yes, sir. Sheila?
Bill Foster: Rick? Miss Folsom?
Rick: Yes, sir.
Sheila: Yes.
Bill Foster: You know what? You were right. I've changed my mind. I' m going to have some lunch. Could I have a double Whammyburger with cheese-- You getting this?
Rick: Yes, sir.
Bill Foster: And an order of Whammy fries and, let's see. . . . . .a Choco-Wham shake.
Rick: Yes, sir. Sheila, get his order.
Bill Foster: Rick, could you get it for me, please? I feel comfortable calling you Rick after all we've been through together. How you doing? Enjoying your meal? How about you? son Is it good? And you, ma'am? How's the food? I think we have a critic. I don't think she likes the special sauce. Rick That's a joke. Now, here we go. Thank you. See, this is what I' m talking about. Look at that. See what I mean? It's plump, juicy, three inches thick. now Look at this sorry, miserable, squashed thing. Can anybody tell me what's wrong with this picture? Anybody? Anybody at all.

1st Gang Member: What you doing, Mister?
Bill Foster: Nothing.
1st Gang Member: Nah, man. You're trespassing on private property.
Bill Foster: Trespassing?
2nd Gang Member: You're loitering too, man.
1st Gang Member: Yeah, you're loitering too.
Bill Foster: I didn't see any signs.
1st Gang Member: [pointing at Mexican graffiti] Whatcha call that?
Bill Foster: Graffiti?
1st Gang Member: No, that's not fucking graffiti. That's a sign.
2nd Gang Member: He can't read it, man.
1st Gang Member: Then I guess I'm gonna have to read it for you. It says this is fucking private property! No fucking trespassing! That means fucking you.
Bill Foster: It says all that?
1st Gang Member: Yeah.
Bill Foster: Well maybe if you wrote it in fucking English I could fucking understand it.

Man at Phone Booth: Excuse me! I don't know if you noticed or not, but there are other people who want to use the phone here!
Bill Foster: There are?
Man at Phone Booth: Yeah!
Bill Foster: There's other people who want to use the phone?
Man at Phone Booth: That's right, you selfish asshole!
Bill Foster: Oh, that's too bad. Because you know what?
[fires a submachine gun at the phone booth, wrecking it]
Bill Foster: I think it's out of order.

Bill Foster: You're Korean? Do you have any idea how much money my country has given your country?
Mr. Lee: How much?
Bill Foster: I don't know, but it's gotta be a lot.

Mr. Lee: Take the money!
Bill Foster: You think I'm a thief? I'm not the thief. I'm not the one charging 85 cents for a STINKING SODA! YOU'RE THE THIEF! I'm just standing up for my rights... as a consumer.

Bum: That's a hell of a way to treat a vet, man.
Bill Foster: You're an animal doctor?
Bum: No, a VETERAN. I was in Nam.
Bill Foster: What were you, a drummer boy? You must have been 10 years old.
Bum: I meant the Gulf. I meant to say the Gulf. Jesus! Come on, all I'm asking for is a little change. I haven't eaten in three days.
[is eating a sandwich]
Bum: Well, except for this.

Bill Foster: What are you doing to the street?
Construction Worker: We're fixing it! What the hell does it look like?
Bill Foster: Two days ago it was fine. You're telling me the street fell apart in two days?
Construction Worker: (sarcastically) Well I guess so.
Bill Foster: Pardon me, but that's bullshit. You see, I don't think anything's wrong with the street. I think you're just trying to justify your inflated budgets! I know that if you don't spend the projected amount this year, you don't get the same amount next year! Now I want you to admit that THERE'S NOTHING WRONG WITH THE STREET!
Construction Worker: Fuck you, pal.
Bill Foster: You're not gonna hold us hostage here with all your yellow lights and big trucks.
Construction Worker: (notices the gun on Foster's belt) Look, I'm just here to stop people from falling in, that's all.
Bill Foster: I want to hear it from you. Come on, what's wrong with the street?
Construction Worker: I really don't know, I think it might be a sewer job.
Bill foster: You're lying. What's wrong with the street?
Construction Worker: Nothing.
Bill Foster: I KNEW it.

Nick: Why don't they call you officer-esses?
Sandra: I beg your pardon?
Nick: You know, like actress. Something to signify... you know.
Sandra: I guess they think of a police officer as a police officer, not a... you know.
Nick: Okay then. Sorry I couldn't have been helpful, officer--ESS!

Prendergast: What did this guy look like?
Angie: I don't know, he looked like you except he was taller and had hair.
Detective Jones:: Good description, Angie.

Prendergast: Get a positive ID on the gym bag.
Captain Yardley: Prendergast, what do you think this is?
[holds up his own gym bag]
Prendergast: A gym bag.
Captain Yardley: Does this mean you're putting me under arrest?

Nick: What can I do you for?
Bill Foster: I was just looking for some hiking boots.
Nick: Hiking boots? Let's see what we got. These here are the top of the line. Scientifically engineered and all that crap. Guaranteed by some Sierra Club asshole not to hurt a chipmunk IF you step on it! Personally, I think they're for pussies and (turns his head towards the two homosexuals in the store) FAGGOTS! Now these are Vietnam jungle boots. Cost you half as much, last you twice as long and are great for stomping (turns his head again) QUEERS! Course when you're done you have to clean out the waffle with a stick, but what the hell, you can't have everything.

Nick: We're the same, you and me. We're the same, don't you see?
Bill Foster: We are not the same. I'm an American, you're a sick asshole.
Nick: Just what kind of vigilante are you?
Bill Foster: I am NOT a vigilante. I am just trying to get home to my little girl's birthday party, and if you all just stay out of my way, nobody will get hurt.

Nick: Fuck you! Who the fuck are you?! Are you fucking with me?!
Bill Foster: I am just disagreeing with you! In America, we have the freedom of SPEECH! The right to DISAGREE!
Nick: Fuck you and your freedom! (Pulls out a handgun and aims it at Foster) Who the fuck are you, you fuck! You faggot fuck! You were gonna take my rocket! I oughta shoot you right now, you dippy mother fucker!

Nick: You want freedom, huh? I'll give you fucking freedom! [takes out some handcuffs] Further back, further back, feet further back! Spread em' out. Further. You're going to jail, motherfucker. How's that for freedom? Freedom to get fucked up the ass by some big buck nigger. Gimmie your hand! Put it back here come on! He's gonna be right behind ya, just like this. Huh? Think about it! You're gonna like that faggot? You're gonna like that you faggot fuck! Give me your other hand! Come on!
Bill Foster: I can't.
Nick: Why not?
Bill Foster: Gravity.
Nick: Gravity? What the fuck does that mean?!
Bill Foster: I'll fall down.
Nick: [kicks Bill, making him fall down] Give me your other hand! Give it to me now! Give it to me! Give it to me! Come on! Come on! Give it to me! :[Bill turns around and stabs Nick in his shoulder] This isn't one of mine. Heh heh heh. Oh my God. Oh...my...God.
Bill Foster: Good! Good, freedom of religion. Now you get the swing of it. Feels good to exercise your rights, doesn't it? (opens fire on Nick, shooting him through a mirror)

Beth: You're not coming here.
Bill Foster: Oh, but I am. I'm on my way. I've passed the point of no return. You know when that is? That's the point in a journey where it's longer to go back to the beginning than it is to continue to the end. It's like when those astronauts got in trouble when they were going to the moon. Somebody messed up and they had to get them back to Earth but first they had to go around the moon. They were out of contact for hours. Everybody waited breathlessly to see if a bunch of dead guys in a can would pop out the other side. I'm on the other side of the moon now and everybody will have to wait until I pop out.
Beth: The police are here.
Bill Foster: Beth, did you know that in some South American countries it's legal to kill your wife if she insults you?

Frank: Fore! [drives a golf ball at Foster]
Bill Foster: [takes out shotgun] Five! What the hell are you trying to do, kill me with a golf ball? It's not enough you have all these beautiful acres fenced in for your little game, that you gotta kill me with a golf ball? You should have children playing here. You should have families having picnics. You should have a goddamn petting zoo! But instead you've got these stupid little electric carts for you old men with nothing better to do! [shoots Frank's golf cart, which starts rolling; Frank collapses]
Bill Foster: Aren't you ashamed of yourself? What's wrong with you?
Frank: Heart...
Bill Foster: Your heart? Something's wrong with your heart? Well, what can I do?
Frank: Pills... p-pills...
Bill Foster: Pills? Where are your pills?
Frank: Cart... cart... cart...
Bill Foster: [watches the cart fall into a water hazard] Well, I guess you're out of luck aren't you? Your little cart's gonna drown. Now aren't you sorry you didn't let me pass through your golf course?
Frank: My... golf... course...
Bill Foster: Yeah! Now you're gonna die wearing that stupid little hat. How does it feel?

Bill Foster: Doctor? What kind of doctor lives here?
Man: Plastic surgeon.
Bill Foster: Plastic surgery bought this? Guess I'm in the wrong racket. Are there correspondence courses in plastic surgery?

Sergeant Prendergast: Let's meet a couple of police officers. They're all good guys.
Bill Foster: I'm the bad guy?
Prendergast: Yeah.
Bill Foster: How did that happen? I did everything they told me to. Did you know I build missiles?
Prendergast: Yeah.
Bill Foster: I help to protect America. You should be rewarded for that. Then they give it to the plastic surgeon. You know, they lied to me.
Prendergast: Is that what this is about? You're angry because you got lied to? Is that why my chicken dinner is drying out in the oven? Hey, they lie to everybody. They lie to the fish! But that doesn't give you any special right to do what you did today.


  • A Tale Of Urban Reality.
  • The adventures of an ordinary man at war with the everyday world.


External links[edit]

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