Call the police... let's read your f***in' review. "Lacklustre..." That's just labels. Marginality... You kidding me? Sounds like you need penicillin to clear that up. That's a label. That's all labels. You just label everything. That's so f***in' lazy... You just... You're a lazy f***er. You know what this is? You even know what that is? You don't, You know why? Because you can't see this thing if you don't have to label it. You mistake all those little noises in your head for true knowledge.
Tabitha:
Are you finished?
Riggan:
No! I'm not finished! There's nothing here about technique! There's nothing in here about structure! There's nothing in here about intentions! It's just a bunch of crappy opinions, backed up by even crappier comparisons... You write a couple of paragraphs and you know what? None of this cost you f***in' anything! The F***! You risk nothing! Nothing! Nothing! Nothing! I'm a f***ing actor! This play cost me everything... So I tell you what, you take this f***ed malicious cowardly shitty written review and you shove that right the f*** up your wrinkly tight ass.
O melhor diálogo de "Birdman". Dá o que pensar...
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