A washed up singer is given a couple days to compose a chart-topping hit for an aspiring teen sensation. Though he's never written a decent lyric in his life, he sparks with an offbeat younger woman with a flair for words.

Alex Fletcher: It doesn't have to be perfect. Just spit it out. They're just lyrics.
Sophie Fisher: "Just lyrics"?
Alex Fletcher: Lyrics are important. They're just not as important as melody.
Sophie Fisher: I really don't think you get it.
Alex Fletcher: Oh. You look angry. Click your pen.
Sophie Fisher: A melody is like seeing someone for the first time. The physical attraction. Sex.
Alex Fletcher: I so get that.
Sophie Fisher: But then, as you get to know the person, that's the lyrics. Their story. Who they are underneath. It's the combination of the two that makes it magical.
Alex Fletcher: [talking to Sophie Fisher in the Weight-Not store office] Well, that's just ridiculous. Nobody grows up in Florida, unless you're an orange.
Alex Fletcher: [singing] It's never been easy for me / To find words to go along with a melody / But this time there's actually something on my mind / So please forgive these few brief awkward lines / Since I met you my whole life is changed / It's not just my furniture you've rearranged / I was living in the past / But somehow you've brought me back / And I haven't felt like this / Since before Frankie said "Relax" / And though I know / Based on my track record / I might not seem like the safest bet / All I'm asking you / Is don't write me off just yet / For years I've been telling myself the same old story / That I was happy to live off my so-called former glories / But you've given me a reason / To take another chance / Now I need you / Despite the fact that you've killed all my plants / And though I know / I've already blown more chances / Than anyone should ever get / All I'm asking you / Is don't write me off just yet.
Alex Fletcher: The best time I've had in the last fifteen years was sitting at that piano with you.
Sophie Fisher: That's wonderfully sensitive... especially from a man who wears such tight pants.
Alex Fletcher: It forces all the blood to my heart.
Chris Riley: Why do you have a plant lady? Why do you even have plants?
Alex Fletcher: Because, from time to time, ladies accompany me back to the apartment and one of them once mentioned that plants make women comfortable.
Chris Riley: Is that true? Plants make women comfortable? Well, maybe if I had plants I'd still be married.
Alex Fletcher: Yes, I think that was the problem; not Susan's affair and raging nymphomania but your lack of vegetation.
Sophie Fisher: Are you OK?
Alex Fletcher: Yeah, yeah, I'm fine. It's just my Pop! hip. It comes from years of doing our patented dance move. My God, I've suffered for my art.
Alex Fletcher: People wait their whole lives to see an ex when things are going really good. it NEVER happens. You could make relationship history!
Alex Fletcher: You don't think that going to a party and telling the hostess that she simultaneously destroyed two musical cultures is rude? I'm enrolling you at the nearest charm school.
Sophie Fisher: You should get some ice on that.
Alex Fletcher: Only if it's attached to some whiskey.
Khan: Mr. Fletcher, I have Sophie here for you.
Alex Fletcher: Well, that sounds like fun. Who is she?
Khan: She says she's here to do your plants.
Alex Fletcher: No, tell her Jane does my plants.
Khan: She says it will only take five minutes and this is a good time for her.
Alex Fletcher: It seems she cannot be stopped. Send her up.
Alex Fletcher: Just a little bit louder, because this song is intended for humans, okay? Way Back Into Love, take two.
Greg Antonsky: What's your next line? "Feelings. Nothing more than feelings"? You people disgust me!
Rhonda Fisher: Look, hon, you don't fall a lot. And I've seen the way you look at him, so if you are falling for him... Just please, please make sure he's passionate about you.
Sophie Fisher: Well, you know, I mean, I'm not falling. We're just working together, you know? And besides, the one time we slept together, it's been totally professional.
Alex Fletcher: I slept with Sophie.
Chris Riley: [yelling] You slept with Sophie?
Alex Fletcher: Now remember your blood pressure. You're a tall man, you need all the pressure you can get!
Chris Riley: This is horrible Alex, this is very bad! Unless you're happy about this in which case I couldn't be more pleased for you... Should we do pros and cons?
Alex Fletcher: I have great insight. I'd use it on myself only I don't have any problems.
Alex Fletcher: The few syllables you got out were absolutely devastating.
Chris Riley: So; Cora Corman - how great is that, huh? Do you believe it?
Alex Fletcher: Wait wait wait - is it even a good idea? Pros and cons.
Chris Riley: Pros: she's a huge star. Great publicity. Terrific money.
Alex Fletcher: And cons?
Chris Riley: No matter what you do, in forty years we'll both be dead.
Alex Fletcher: Okay, so huge star, great publicity, terrific money, versus eventual death. Well, I think we have to think about it.
Alex Fletcher: [singing] Sleeping with a clown above my bed...
Alex Fletcher: "Clown" is not right
Sophie Fisher: That's "cloud." Why would you put a clown in your bed?
Alex Fletcher: It would not be the first time.
[Sophie has overwatered a plant. Alex takes it away from her]
Alex Fletcher: Good. Now you can begin to kill the next one.
Cora Corman: I'll show you the roof. It's upstairs.
Alex Fletcher: Are you single?
Rhonda Fisher: I've been married 16 years, but nothing's set in stone, right?
Alex Fletcher: I like your roof. It's good that its upstairs
Alex Fletcher: I've a strange situation here.
Chris Riley: Oh, you've got a strange situation? I'm at Beth's soccer game with my ex-wife who's here with my ex-gardener. They came on a riding mower.
Sophie Fisher: [talking about Alex's solo album] I bought it... the last copy.
Alex Fletcher: Right, well, I insist on paying you back immediately. $9.99 right? Do you have a penny?
Cora Corman: If it's meant to be, it will be. It's destiny... or not.
Sophie Fisher: Sloan, even though Sally Michaels only lives on paper, I live in the real world. And I can never forgive you for using me as raw material to create a fictional monster. Sally Michaels is my own personal ghost, a shadow hanging over each phone call, a cup of tea. And one cold day when age has robbed your mind of its fertile phrases and your hand of its dexterity all the success won't be able to shield you from the pain you've caused and the shame you deserve. Or something like that.
Alex Fletcher: [Sophie moves a chair] What are you doing, you madwoman, you're wrecking my apartment!
Sophie Fisher: Well, I can't write sitting all the way across the room.
Alex Fletcher: No, go back to your corner!
Sophie Fisher: ...Fine, all right.
[goes, leaving the chair where she moved it]
Alex Fletcher: I'm blocked. How am I supposed to get out?
Sophie Fisher: Go out the other side.
Alex Fletcher: But... but... I've never been out the other side.
Sophie Fisher: What if Smoky came up to you and said, "Alex Fletcher, you're a horrible song writer"?
Alex Fletcher: Smoky wouldn't. Dylan, Dylan would. Dylan might. Actually, in fact Dylan did.
Alex Fletcher: I did not pander. I just told her exactly what she wanted to hear.
Alex Fletcher: You look like a worried little doggy.
Sophie Fisher: Ruff.
Cora Corman: [singing] Entering Bootytown/So shake your booty now/'Cause your booty is the way to his heart.
Alex Fletcher: You seem angry - click your pen!
Alex Fletcher: [while performing] Girls, tell me something... Are these pants a bit too tight?
Sophie Fisher: I'm just here to cater to the plants.
Alex Fletcher: And you're doing a marvelous job. Although, that one is plastic.
Greg Antonsky: Maybe you want something more commercial. More Pop-y.
Alex Fletcher: Just hold that thinly veiled insult on second.
Cora Corman: Derek give me a beat, steamy and sticky.
Alex Fletcher: My face is in the butter.
Alex Fletcher: Theoretically, I could pick you up because I will be taking a cab.
Sophie Fisher: I could be standing outside at 9:40 in bright orange clothes, so you wouldn't miss me...
Alex Fletcher: Oh, good, you'll get some road work done while you wait, then.
Sophie Fisher: The worst part is, he still has some power over me. I still care what he thinks.
Alex Fletcher: I'm sorry, but how - how can that possibly be? The guy is a jerk.
Sophie Fisher: Well, that's easy for you to say, but...
Alex Fletcher: No, no. He is a jerk! He is a jerk. It's not a question. He is a jerk!
Sophie Fisher: But...
Alex Fletcher: No, he is! He's a jerk! He's a jerk!
Chris Riley: Alright, it's my fault and I hate myself for it, but I'm not upset, and do you know why?
Alex Fletcher: You've been at my liquor?
Alex Fletcher: The thing that really hurts is my upper gum. I think I may have impaled myself on a dinner roll. It's a very good thing they didn't have bread sticks. I could have lost an eye.
Sophie Fisher: Are you trying to tell me that you enjoyed that orgasm set to the "Gandhi" soundtrack?
Alex Fletcher: [start of Way Back Into Love Demo Version] Way Back Into Love, take one.
Sophie Fisher: I-uh-I'm getting really nervous.
Alex Fletcher: You'll be fine, just use your normal, nice voice that I've heard... so much over the last three days.
Sophie Fisher: It's like, ugh, my throat's closing up. It's, like, anaphylactic.
Alex Fletcher: It's fine, it's just a three-minute song.
Alex Fletcher: Anybody see 'Battle of the 80's Has-Beens' last night? That Debbie Gibson can take a punch.
Alex Fletcher: We could even re-pot the ficus.
Alex Fletcher: [Hails taxi] She's going to have a baby!
Sophie Fisher: [Taxi continues driving away] Hey! What if it were true?
Alex Fletcher: [singing Greg's lyrics] # Give it up, I'm a bad hot witch / I look real good, but I'm a nasty bitch / I'll scream and claw and curdle your blood / But you'll die on your way back into love #
Sophie Fisher: [hits her head on piano] OW!
Alex Fletcher: Yes, I think she's up now.
Alex Fletcher: They're aliens, clearly, I have no children.
Alex Fletcher: You're Cole Porter in panties. Of course, having said that, Cole Porter probably did wear panties.

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