Blazing Saddles (1974)
Cleavon Little: Bart
Photos
Quotes
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[Bart, disguised as a Klansman, describes his qualifications as a villain]
Bart : Stampeding cattle.
Hedley Lamarr : That's not much of a crime.
Bart : Through the Vatican?
Hedley Lamarr : [smiling] Kinkyyyy. Sign here.
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Bart : [on grandstand to the townspeople] Excuse me while I whip this out.
[reaches into waistline as crowd gasps and screams; Bart pulls out paper, they sigh with relief]
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Lili Von Shtupp : Would you like another schnitzengruben?
Bart : No, thank you. Fifteen is my limit on schnitzengruben.
Lili Von Shtupp : Well, then how about a little...
[whispers in his ear]
Bart : Baby, please! I am not from Havana.
Lili Von Shtupp : Will I... see you again?
Bart : Well, it all depends on how much vitamin E I can get my hands on.
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Hedley Lamarr : Sign here.
[Bart reaches for the pen... revealing his Black hands]
Jim : [quickly] Why, Rhett! How many times have I told you to wash up after weekly cross burning?
[licks his fingers, then rubs Bart's hand]
Jim : See, it's coming off.
[Taggart whips off Bart's hood]
Bart : And now, for my next impression... Jesse Owens.
[runs off]
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Bart : Sir, he specifically requested two "niggers". Well, to tell a family secret, my grandmother was Dutch.
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[the Johnsons load their guns and point them at Bart. Bart then points his own pistol at his head]
Bart : [low voice] Hold it! Next man makes a move, the nigger gets it!
Olson Johnson : Hold it, men. He's not bluffing.
Dr. Sam Johnson : Listen to him, men. He's just crazy enough to do it!
Bart : [low voice] Drop it! Or I swear I'll blow this nigger's head all over this town!
Bart : [high-pitched voice] Oh, lo'dy, lo'd, he's desp'it! Do what he sayyyy, do what he sayyyy!
[townspeople drop their guns; Bart jams the gun into his neck and drags himself through the crowd towards the station]
Harriet Johnson : Isn't anybody going to help that poor man?
Dr. Sam Johnson : Hush, Harriet! That's a sure way to get him killed!
Bart : [high-pitched voice] Oooh! He'p me, he'p me! Somebody he'p me! He'p me! He'p me! He'p me!
Bart : [low voice] Shut up!
[Bart places his hand over his own mouth, then drags himself through the door into his office]
Bart : Ooh, baby, you are so talented!
[looks into the camera]
Bart : And they are so *dumb*!
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Bart : Mornin', ma'am. And isn't it a lovely mornin'?
Elderly Woman : Up yours, nigger.
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Bart : Mongo was easy. The bitch was inventing the candy-gram. Probably won't even give me credit for it.
[a knock at the window; Bart gets up and sees the same woman who insulted him earlier]
Elderly Woman : Good evening, Sheriff. Sorry about the "Up yours, nigger". I hope this apple pie will in some small way say thank you for your ingenuity and courage in defeating that horrible Mongo.
Bart : Well, uh... thank you, much obliged. Good night.
[Bart closes the window and smells the pie... but returns to the window when he hears another knock]
Elderly Woman : Of course, you'll have the good taste not to mention that I spoke to you.
Bart : Of course.
Elderly Woman : Thank you.
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Taggart : Now what the hell do you think you're doin' with that tin star, boy?
Bart : Watch that "boy" shit, redneck. You talkin' to the sheriff of Rock Ridge.
Taggart : Well, now if that don't beat all. Here we take the good time and trouble to slaughter every last Indian in the West, and for what? So they can appoint a sheriff that's blacker'n any Indian! I am depressed.
Lyle : Excuse me, Mr. Taggart, sir, but I sure do hate to see you like this. What if me and the boys was to shoot that nigger dead? Would that pep you up some?
Taggart : That might help.
Lyle : All right, boys! On the count of three!
Jim : I wouldn't do that if I were you.
Lyle : Don't pay no attention to that alkie. He can't even hold a gun, much less shoot it.
[Jim blows on his fingertips]
Lyle : Like I said, on the count of three. One... two... three!
[Jim draws. The cowboys' guns are suddenly shot of their hands in quick succession. Cut back to Jim, his arms folded, smoke pouring from his holsters]
Bart : Well, don't just sit there lookin' stupid, graspin' your hands in pain. How 'bout a little...
[he draws his own gun]
Bart : ... applause for the Waco Kid?
[dumbfounded, Taggart and his men start clapping]
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[while Mongo is beating the hell out of a bar full of toughs, Bart walks in, dressed as a messenger boy and carrying a box]
Bart : Candygram for Mongo! Candygram for Mongo!
Mongo : Me Mongo.
Bart : Sign, please.
[Mongo grabs the paper and makes some rough scratches on it]
Bart : Thank you.
[he gives Mongo the box and walks out of the bar, putting his fingers in his ears]
Mongo : Mongo like candy.
[he opens the box - boom!]
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Lyle : Now, come on, boys! Where's your spirit? I don't hear no singin'. When you was slaves, you sang like birds. Go on, how 'bout a good ol' nigger work song?
Bart : [singing] I get no kick from champagne, Mere alcohol doesn't thrill me at all, So, tell me why should it be true, That I get a belt out of you...
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Bart : Just give me twenty-four hours to come up with a brilliant idea to save our town. Just twenty-four hours, that's all I ask.
Townspeople : [in unison] No!
Bart : You'd do it for Randolph Scott.
Townspeople : [reverently] Randolph Scott...
Townspeople : [singing in the fashion of a church choir] *Randolph Scott!*
Howard Johnson : All right, Sheriff. Twenty-four hours.
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Bart : Well, can't you see that's the last act of a desperate man?
Howard Johnson : We don't care if it's the first act of "Henry V," we're leaving!
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Bart : [watching Mongo's rampage] I don't know what it is.
[Van Johnson bursts into the office]
Van Johnson : Sheriff! Mongo's back! He's...
[realizes Bart is on the opposite side of the room, and turns around]
Van Johnson : Sheriff! Mongo's back! He's breaking up the whole town! You've got to help us, please!
Bart : Did you hear that? Now it's "please". This morning, I couldn't get the time of day. Who is this Mongo, anyway?
Jim : Well, Mongo ain't exactly a "who". He's more of a "what".
Van Johnson : What he said.
Bart : Well, now, I don't know...
Van Johnson : Oh, thank you, Sheriff! Oh, thank you very much! Thank you!
[runs to the door and flings it open]
Van Johnson : [shouting] The fool's going to... I mean, the sheriff's going to do it!
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Charlie : [as their handcart begins to sink] Bart?
Bart : Yeah?
Charlie : Am I wrong? Or is the world... rising?
Bart : I don't know. But whatever it is, I hate it.
[men slowly sink down offscreen]
Bart : Hey, Charlie? Let me ask you something: what is it that's not exactly water and it ain't exactly earth?
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[Bart is bidding farewell to the people of Rock Ridge]
Bart : Work here is done. I'm needed elsewhere now. I'm needed wherever outlaws rule the West, wherever innocent women and children are afraid to walk the streets, wherever a man cannot live in simple dignity, wherever a people cry out for justice.
Crowd : [in unison] *Bullshit!*
Bart : All right, you caught me. To speak the plain truth, it's getting pretty damn dull around here.
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Bart : Well, once I establish myself in this here town, Deputy Spade might turn out to be a groovy position.
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[Jim the Waco Kid has just shot the guns out of the hands of a dozen henchmen]
Bart : Well, don't just stand there looking stupid, grasping your hands in pain. How about a round of applause for The Waco Kid?
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Bart : Well, raise my rent. You *are* The Kid.
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Bart : [Bart dresses himself as a carnival barker and stands beside a wishing-well] ... Step right up, ladies and gentlemen and... Mongos! Dive, dive, dive for buried treasure! This is the exact spot where the Spanish Armada was sunk by the British Navy, leaving millions and millions of Spanish Dubloons at the bottom of the sea!
[Remember, they're in the middle of the desert, on America's Western Frontier!]
Mongo : Spanish balloons? Mongo take chance...!
[and, after suiting up]
Mongo : ... How Mongo get air?
Bart : From this wonderful antique pump. Good hunting!
[and, once Mongo climbs to the bottom of the well]
Bart : ... Time for my lunch break.
[He lowers a sign to Mongo which reads "For more air, deposit $.25"]
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[Jim dozes off while Bart tells his backstory]
Bart : [to the camera] Always like to keep my audience riveted.
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Bart : [Mongo walks down the street past a mannequin-like, penny-arcade-style "gunslinger" - Bart's voice is distorted and seems to be coming from the penny-arcade machine] I'm the marshal in this here town, and you're nothin' but a big fat ferret.
[Mongo starts to pull his gun on the offending "marshal"]
Bart : Hold it! If you wanna draw on me, put a quarter in the machine.
[Mongo deposits a quarter in the appropriate slot]
Bart : Ready? Now draw on the count of three. One, two...
[Mongo is about to draw when the "marshal" falls away to reveal a cannon, which blasts Mongo in the face - we can now see that Bart has been throwing his voice with a bullhorn]
Bart : ... Three.
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Bart : You'd do it for Randolph Scott!
