It takes a lot of money to make these dreams come true.
“But you see,” said Roark quietly, “I have, let’s say, sixty years to live. Most of that time will be spent working. I’ve chosen the work I want to do. If I find no joy in it, then I’m only condemning myself to sixty years of torture. And I can find the joy only if I do my work in the best way possible to me. But the best is a matter of standards—and I set my own standards.”
“You’re unbearable when you’re working Howard…Tension is contagious, you know….You’re completely natural only when you’re once inch from bursting into pieces. What in the hell are you really made of, Howard? After all, it’s only a building. It’s not the combination of holy sacrament, Indian torture and sexual ecstasy that you seem to make of it.”
Seeing Bogdanovich in the car next to them, Friedkin could not resist the urge for some competitive banter. He stuck his head out of the limo’s sunroof and called out a line from a review of The French Connection.
“The most exciting American film in twenty-five years! Eight Oscar nominations and five Oscars!”
Bogdanovich responded in kind. “The Last Picture Show, a film that will revolutionize film history. Eight nominations, and my movie’s better than yours.”
But Coppola got the last word. He stood up through the sunroof and roared, “The Godfather, a hundred and fifty million dollars!”
For the moment, Coppola had proven that even in those early days, he understood the real language of Hollywood.