Down Periscope is a 1996 comedy film starring Kelsey Grammer as the captain of a rust-bucket submarine (called the USS Stingray) who is fighting for his career. Rob Schneider provides comic support as the uptight executive officer, and Lauren Holly as the Navy's first female submarine crewmember.

Directed by David S. Ward. Written by Hugh Wilson, Andrew Kurtzman, and Eliot Wald.
A rusty sub. A rebel commander. A renegade crew. When destiny called, they should have hung up.
Well done, guys. She may not be the youngest girl at the ball... but she'll turn a head or two. If she drives as well as she looks, we may even survive! ~ Tom Dodge
One rebel diesel, against the U.S. nuclear Navy. ~ Dean Winslow
"Think like a pirate! I want a man with a tattoo on his dick! Have I got the right man?"
"By a strange coincidence, you do, sir." ~ Dean Winslow & Tom Dodge
I can't make you any guarantees, Dodge. But this is what I'll do. I'll give you two live torpedoes, set a dummy in Norfolk harbor. If I see that baby go up, then we'll talk about your boat. ~ Dean Winslow

Lieutenant Commander Tom Dodge

  • [After the Stingray's overhaul] Well done, guys. She may not be the youngest girl at the ball... but she'll turn a head or two. If she drives as well as she looks, we may even survive!

Rear Admiral Yancy Graham

  • [Objecting at a meeting of flag officers regarding Dodge's command] There is physical evidence that, as an ensign, he did become so physically intoxicated that he not only allowed himself to be tattooed, but tattooed on his genitalia. Now, call me a prude if you want, but I don't think it's good policy for the Navy to hand over a billion-dollar piece of equipment to a man who has "Welcome Aboard" tattooed on his penis!

Dialogue

RADM Yancy Graham: It's good to see you again, Dodge. Been about four years.
LCDR Tom Dodge: Something like that, sir; not since we were both at King's Bay.
Graham: You're about to join the elite of the submarine service. The best the U.S. Navy has to offer.
Dodge: Damn good feeling, sir.
Graham: As a matter of fact, there she is right now: your new boat. [Dodge turns to look; a rusty old submarine is tied up at the pier.] USS Stingray, SS-161.
Dodge: [Horrified] That! This can't be my boat, sir.
Graham: Well, it most certainly is. Balao-class, refitted 1958.
Dodge: Balao-class?! But that's a diesel sub! This is a joke, right? The Navy doesn't even use diesels anymore!
Graham: They do now; she's been recommissioned.
Dodge: Well, no disrespect to the USS Rustoleum here, but I'd be better off in the Merrimac! I was trained to command a nuclear boat!
Graham: Are you refusing to take command?
Dodge: ...No, sir.
Graham: Good. You'll meet your crew here tomorrow morning, at 0700.
Dodge: [Sarcastic] They also left over from World War II, sir?
Graham: No, Captain. They've been hand-picked. By me.
VADM Dean Winslow: Here are some recent satellite photos of Petropovlosk, Vladivostok. That's where the Russians have got their diesel sub fleet. They're docked there. But each week, there are fewer. Cause they're sellin' 'em off like hotcakes, to countries like Iran, Iraq and Libya to name a few.
LCDR Tom Dodge: With all due respect, sir, one American nuclear attack sub could defeat several diesels.
Winslow: In a conventional battle, certainly, that's true. But one if you had one renegade diesel captain, decided to hit us- bam- suddenly, without cause or warning, like a terrorist intent on getting a nuclear warhead into one of our harbors. You think we could catch and kill a bogey like that in time?
Dodge: Absolutely, sir.
Winslow: Well, the Department of Defense and most of the Admiralty, they would agree with you. But me, personally? I'd like to know for sure. And that's why you're gonna clean the Stingray up and take her out, off the Atlantic coast, for a series of war games. One rebel diesel, against the U.S. nuclear Navy. Come on. [Shows Dodge a map] First, you're going to attempt to invade Charleston harbor. And if you're good enough to evade further pursuit, you'll attempt to sink shipping right here at the naval base in Norfolk. Simulated, of course. What do you think, Mr. Dodge?
Dodge: I think I'm gonna get my ass kicked, sir.
Winslow: Aw, don't gimme that! Damn it to hell, don't go by the book! Think like a pirate! I want a man with a tattoo on his dick! Have I got the right man?
Dodge: By a strange coincidence, you do, sir. However, the task I have been handed here is close to impossible. If I pull it off- that is, get both ports- I would like command of my own nuclear sub.
Winslow: Setting terms, now?
Dodge: No, sir. But without command, once this exercise is over, I'm headed for a desk job, which means I'm out of the Navy.
Winslow: I can't make you any guarantees, Dodge. But this is what I'll do. I'll give you two live torpedoes, set a dummy in Norfolk harbor. If I see that baby go up, then we'll talk about your boat.
Dodge: Thank you, sir.
Dodge: Marty, I'm a little worried about your health. Not exactly a people person, are you? I'm afraid you're headed straight for an ulcer if you can't ease up a little bit.
Pascal: I'm-I'm not happy with this boat, sir. Requesting permission for a transfer.
Dodge: What?
Pascal: Commander, this-this boat... it's a rustbucket! It's a shitbox! And this crew is the most incompetent bunch of retards and assholes in naval history! I mean, I know why you're here, but- I don't know why I was even considered for such an assignment-
Dodge: 'Scuse me, 'scuse me. Why am I here?
Pascal: You know, your thing!
Dodge: What "thing"?
Pascal: The weenie tattoo.
Dodge: [Laughs] Wow. Look, Pascal, I hate to disappoint you, but I may have had some other things going for me.
Pascal: Yeah, yeah, yeah- I believe you, sir. Now, about my transfer. This post could seriously jeopardize my chances for advancement. I mean, I am this close to command, sir-
Dodge: Forget it. You think you're the only one embarrassed to be here, you think this is the command I dreamed about? Well, we're all in this mess together, mister. And you and your career are in the hands of those very assholes! Including this one. That answer your question?
Pascal: Yes, sir.
Dodge: Dismissed.
[Pascoe inspects the galley]
LT Martin Pascal: Oh, my God! There are cockroaches in the flour! Your cigar ash is in the spaghetti! Jesus, Buckman! This stuff's been on the Stingray since Korea! This can expired in 1966!
Seaman Buckman: What's the matter, sir? It still tastes like cream of corn.
Pascal: Except- it's deviled ham!
Buckman: Now that would be a problem.
[During the Stingray's homecoming]
Rear-Admiral Yancy Graham: Sir, this entire exercise is invalid. Dodge left the containment area -
Vice-Admiral Dean Winslow: - after you narrowed him down without proper authorization.
Graham: He ignored a direct order!
Winslow: Stow it, Yancy. He had higher orders... and you can forget about that third star. [Smiles and walks away]
Winslow: Welcome back, Captain. You certainly pushed my order to the breaking point.
Dodge: Thank you, sir. I mean, if that's a compliment.
Winslow: However, under the circumstances, I will not be able to give you your own Los Angeles-class nuclear submarine.
Dodge: Yes, sir.
Winslow: Instead, you will be given a new Seawolf-class nuclear submarine and will attend its launching on Friday! And this time, you'll be given a proper crew, one commensurate with your tactical and leadership abilities.
Dodge: Thank you, sir, but I'd have to decline.
Winslow: Decline?
Dodge: I would not be in line for such a promotion without the help of my present crew. I could not in good conscience accept another command without them.
Winslow: Still setting terms, huh, Dodge?
Dodge: Just respectfully requesting, sir.
Winslow: Well, at least you got my son to face forward.
Dodge: Your son? Stepanak, sir?
Winslow: Yes. It's his mother's name. His salute still leaves something to be desired.
Dodge: We'll work on that, sir.
Winslow: You do that, Commander. [Salutes]

Cast

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