ALFRED: What am I going to do with this? This isn't a movie.
ANDY: It's a slice of life.
ALFRED: I'd rather have a slice of cake.
ANDY: Umm...I just love cake.
ALFRED: Nobody's going to want to watch this.
ANDY: That's cool. Nobody's going to force them. I make movies that you don't have to go and see.
ALFRED: Nothing happens.
ANDY: That's your problem. Don't you have anything else to think about apart from what's next? Watch what's there now.
ALFRED: It's boring.
ANDY: I make movies that give people a chance to think about themselves for a change. I made one movie about that lasted eight hours about the Empire State building. Two hours in a light went on. Everybody in the audience...
ALFRED: Everybody?
ANDY: ...gasped. It was wonderful for people .gasped. It was wonderful for people who didn't have any place to sleep. I called the movie 'Empire' so everybody knew it was going to be a big epic...like Birth of a Nation.
ALFRED: There's no suspense.
ANDY: Sure there is - you want to know when it's going to finish.
Suddenly the film reaches the end of the spool. The punched-out dots at the end of a roll of 16mm film puncture Hitchcock's face then the image bleaches out altogether, the end of the roll flaps loose and the room is lit by the projector bulb.
ANDY: Oh wow. It's over. You want to watch it again?
ALFRED: No, please!
ANDY: What more do you want? You were just going to turn there... then it ended. Who knows, something might even have happened, if there'd have been more film in the camera. But now we'll never know. Just like life.
ALFRED: That's why I hate life.
ANDY: Maybe I should call it 'Andy Warhol's Thriller'. At least you've got a film now.
ALFRED: This isn't going to sell any dog food. It's wallpaper.
ANDY: I like wallpaper - it's democratic. Everybody has wallpaper.
ALFRED: I don't think you've quite grasped it, have you? We exist to keep people entertained. To stop them walking out. To make them want to stay. To give them something they don't have in their lives. Some suspense.