Subtitles by explosiveskull
[Steven] Life.
In this humdrum sense, is worth
avoiding.
It's the factory for the father and the kitchen for mother.
It's arguments at the dinner table,
missing children on the news.
And through it all, a sense that things are slowly falling apart.
Is it better to choose another record and flip the lid on the pills,
and wait for something to happen?
Is it better to turn out the lights
climb under the covers
until sleep invites you to a world you've always wanted.
Is it better than the one that's in front of us?
[people chattering]
[applause]
Stop being a mad ass.
Two beers, please.
If you spent as much time looking for a band
as you do slagging them off, it could be you up there.
There's a reason...
Oh, come on, Steven, I was only pulling your pisser.
[song continues playing]
Should we go to town on Saturday night?
We could go to that new club.
Not been yet.
Yeah but we'll just sit there, like it's a funeral.
Yeah, we could pretend it's yours, you'll like that.
[laughing]
I just think that there's more to life than being...
Right, keep walking.
Pardon?
Keep walking, or you'll get taunted.
Just try and act normal for ten seconds.
You're dickheads.
[indistinct talking]
Have you found a job yet?
No.
Well, you're not going to find one sitting around on your arse.
There's nothing suitable.
What does that mean?
Something suitable.
Leave him alone.
He's gonna have to find a job some day.
He wants to write.
Write? He can't even write his bloody name.
Why do you always do that?
[distant arguing]
You are right.
I can't find Roxy.
No, I meant...
They've been like that for years, Angie.
Is it serious?
Do you want to talk about it?
There's no use bottling things up.
Life is too short.
For cliches.
Forget it.
[music starts playing]
You ever think it could have been awesome.
Buried in the dirt.
[distant arguing continues]
[music volume increases]
[Steven] Dear enemy,
Manchester is a lovely place.
If you happen to be a bed-ridden deaf mute.
The local music scene is the sole preserve of troglodytes
whose regard for subtlety and variation
is comparable to a pig's passion for the slaughterhouse.
The performance was the musical equivalent
of a prolonged bowel movement
followed by an unexpected absence of toilet paper.
In case I haven't made myself clear,
it wasn't very good.
[piano music playing]
What about this?
I don't think so.
No it's a good job if you're not fussy.
Here's one.
Girl group seeks moaning minnie.
Now you could do that.
Not funny.
I don't know what I'm meant to be looking for, do I?
There's no point in dragging me here every week, just to play the cunt.
Holly-fucking-luya.
Yeah.
Yeah, all right.
Yeah, we will meet you tomorrow.
Great. Okay. Bye.
Got you a date.
[music starts playing]
[crowd cheering distantly]
Hey, he's quite fit.
Do you think that's him?
Leather jacket, check, red hair, check.
I don't like his shoes.
Just look him in the eye and don't cock it up.
Just give me a minute.
You're not meeting the fucking Pope.
Should we get out there or what?
We?
I could be your agent.
- Oh my goodness. - Shall I count to ten?
Ten, nine, eight,
- seven, six, five... - Fine!
Are you gonna sulk all day?
I'm not sulking.
What are you doing then?
I'm sulking.
You're the one who wouldn't talk to him.
The world is not just gonna come to you.
It might do.
[scoffs] You're ridiculous.
You may as well get a job in ASDA.
What, like you?
Oh, fuck off!
Mommy's boy.
You know, some of us live in the real world with proper shit to deal with.
I don't need this.
Call me when you've grown a pair.
Look after your mother.
Merry Christmas, hey.
Who's gonna carve your turkey?
Dickhead.
[rock music playing]
Are you a DJ?
What's with the record, then?
Hey, Lerch, she's talking to you.
[typewriter clacking]
[sighs]
What have you done now?
Have you got any plans for lunch, Steven?
Um, yes.
Cancel them.
You're gonna clean up this mess.
Get your shit together.
Nice one, knob jockey.
Get back to work, you two.
[elevator dings]
[Steven] If there was ever a revolution in England,
we'd form an orderly queue
at the guillotine.
Nothing worth doing in life involves repetition.
It's the mind that matters.
The mind allows us to think
and feel
and see the beauty of things
where others can only see crank bearings and spark plugs.
My little brother,
climbing that career ladder.
Please.
Chief pencil sharpener.
I'm not even listening.
[music playing]
[loud rock music playing]
Just a beer.
Ta.
I owe you an apology.
What for?
Steven Morrissey from Stratford certainly likes the sound of his own voice.
Someone needed to say it.
Thank you.
You need to use more semicolons.
You write really well
but you shouldn't be afraid to use more semicolons.
You know, relax the diction, you're not Jane Austen.
Linder, we're going.
Come to our party.
Come on, we can slag off the bands we hate.
This is Steven.
He's a published writer.
Ah. Fellow Straton. Pleased to meet you.
I'm gonna collect my coat.
Be nice.
So you write then, do you?
Um...
They're just letters, I'm not really published...
- Ah, a man of letters. - Or a lettered man.
A lettered man would imply a man with a PhD or similar, would it not?
Not necessarily.
A lettered man simply means an academic in the abstract.
Would you rather be a man of letters,
or a lettered man.
You're confusing him now, Gordon.
Ready?
No.
Come on.
[fast paced music playing]
[indistinct conversation]
These are really...
They're really...
Are you trying to say you like them?
Yes, yeah.
Well...
It will all be for nothing if I don't get it finished.
I love the silent hour of night,
for blissful dreams may then arise
Do you have to be somewhere?
Gonna be late for work.
Which is where?
The Inland Revenue.
Is it true they all have webbed feet?
You do know there is more to life
than dark satanic mills.
There was a rambling garden.
Gravestones,
elderberries.
Alfred sat in the pagoda, looking longingly at his winklepickers.
Sounds like
Dickens.
Dickens?
Just me.
Steven Patrick Morrissey.
A man who decided to dedicate his life
to working for the tax man.
Where he stamped documents,
and licked envelopes,
beautifully.
Oh, so beautifully.
Seriously, you can't be happy working in that place.
Oh, I am as merry as the days were long.
You can't beat me.
Shakespeare.
You can't beat me, don't even try it.
Just be yourself.
Everyone else is taken.
Oscar Wilde.
Shit...
Oi.
She's hot, ain't she?
Oh, no.
I use her shit for toothpaste.
Let me take you in, and show you everybody.
Haha!
The wanderer returns.
How many days has it been?
It is six.
We'll discuss it later.
Now I would like to introduce you all to Christine.
Christine is going to be shadowing young Steven.
And keeping an eye on him, I expect.
So Steven, if you would like to give Christine the tour,
show her how things are done around here.
Is that okay, Steven?
You don't say much, do you?
If you want me to help with anything, just let me know.
Do you have any bullets?
What?
So do you have much auditioning experience?
I keep a list of people I dislike.
Terry seems nice.
- Terry? - Mr. Leonard.
Well, if you like men who have a penchant for arcane numerical systems...
- Do you always talk like that? - What?
Like what?
By using big words.
Your voice is sort of funny. You're not, like, posh. Are you from Bolton?
[retro song playing]
[knocking at door]
Hello.
May I see Steven?
Who is it?
There is a girl at the door to see Dierdre.
Eh, was he expecting you?
Linder. No, he's not expecting me.
Might as well go on up, love.
You'll have to bang on the door.
[music playing loudly]
[Steven singing along]
[knocking]
[music stops abruptly]
[Steven] Hold on.
What are you doing here?
Was that you?
Mmm, no...
I thought you said we were meeting in town.
Christ.
It's like a museum in here.
You're gonna put the kettle on then?
We don't wanna be late though.
Nobody watches the support bands.
I do.
Milk and two sugar, Steven.
Just, just, just...
Please don't touch anything.
I won't.
[door closes]
[distant music playing ]
[kettle whistling]
Right.
[indistinct chatter]
Do you think you can hand some of these out?
I don't think that's your target audience.
I told you.
Think big, Shakespeare.
Think you've got an admirer.
Oh, God.
You know him?
I think he plays guitar.
He certainly knows you.
Just stop staring at him.
Excuse me, mate. Have we met before?
You're not in a band or anything?
No, he's not yet. You?
Well, trying to get something together.
- I'm Billy, - Linder.
This is mute here is Steven.
[man] Got a light?
This is my mate, Johnny.
Are you in his band?
Nah, I can't sing.
Well, here we go.
- Maybe see you in there. - Maybe.
What?
Steven, what are you waiting for?
Just do something, take a chance.
Even cavemen wrote their name on a wall.
How's the world going to remember you? Write.
Sing. Just don't moan about it when it's someone else's name they remember.
[audience cheering]
I love that record.
He writes some great lyrics, Strummer.
What do you like about them?
Strummer's lyrics, I'm interested to know.
Don't you find him rather schematic in his self-flagellating world view?
White Riot's good song.
When you're ready, mate.
[guitar strumming]
I'll make us a bread.
Stick the Clash on if you want.
It's not all of whatever you said.
[music playing]
My mom loves this sort of stuff.
Mine too.
[song continues playing]
[guitar strumming furiously]
You're late.
Again.
Anything you'd like to say?
Not really. No.
I don't know what you think you're doing,
but you're coasting.
You can't waltz in here any time that suits,
pick up your pay check
and fuck off at 5:00!
It's not the way it works.
Why can't you be more like everyone else?
Right.
I want those files shifted.
And don't make me repeat any of this again.
Which files?
What?
You're not going to jump, are you?
- No, no... - What's this?
- It's nothing. - Doesn't look like nothing.
I'm sick of being an undiscovered genius.
[laughing]
Please just give it back.
What are these, poems?
No, they're not.
It is becoming more apparent now as I get older
that everyone is an imbecile except me.
Oh, my God.
Christine...
Wait till I tell everyone.
Christine.
Under one condition.
What, can this wait?
You promised.
Yes, but...
I have absolutely nothing to do with this creature.
Do you promise not to think any worse of me?
- Uh, no. Hiya! - Hiya.
Steven.
Oh, Christine, um...
Linder, this is Christine.
Christine is an esteemed cohort in the business of petty and dignity.
Tonight, I'll see you as well?
Why not?
Looking out for you...
I wouldn't have him any other way.
What's wrong with her tits?
It's from my exhibition.
It's art, is it?
[Linder] Yeah.
I'm not sure I understand it.
Well, maybe you could come along.
And Steven could explain it to you.
You know, he writes poetry.
She doesn't understand that either.
Cheeky twat.
I think I'll leave you two to...
No. You don't have to.
Come on, what do you feel like eating?
I don't care.
As long as it's poisonous.
[music playing]
[indistinct] You cunt!
[doorbell ringing]
Dear lord, what happened to you?
Think I'm ready for the electric shock.
All right. One minute.
Ready?
[Christine] What do you think that means?
[Steven] Whatever you want it to mean.
What does that mean?
What I just said.
Come and have a look at this!
I found a picture of a cock.
[man] As you can see, these are extraordinary works.
Our students are the future of Manchester's thrilling artistic scene.
But, as every artist knows,
it's hard to resit the pull of the capitol.
And, we're delighted to announce,
That Linder's exhibition will travel to London.
[applause]
Thank you.
[whispering indistinctly]
I need a drink.
Ooh, are we getting pissed?
I'm really very happy for you.
You deserve it.
You don't look it.
Will you be gone long?
As long as it takes.
Billy!
Steve.
Sorry, mate. Didn't mean to crash the party.
Your mom said you'd be here, so...
Fuck me, I need to stop smoking.
Billy, why are you here?
What would you say, if I told you we were joining a band,
and we got ourselves a gig?
I'd say, Billy, get off the drugs.
Then call me Bob fucking Marley.
I know this band, The Nosebleeds,
they suddenly find themselves shy of a singer,
a guitarist, and some decent tunes.
So I said we'd do it.
It's brilliant.
It's a double celebration, I'll get us some more drinks.
You don't look too happy about it.
Why is everybody concerned with my happiness?
- Cheers. - Cheers.
Hey!
What are we celebrating?
She's adorable.
In a bovine kind of way.
I've never been to a gallery before.
Did you just see what they were wearing?
If only we could make an effort.
You know, I just can't see the point of university.
Do you know how much I would love a job?
- You have a job. - What, that?
No.
No, I'm only giving it another few months.
I want a career change.
You know, our Tracy's gonna get us a job in fashion.
Do you think I'd be good at that?
I do.
Some of the girls tonight were dressed like blokes, did you see that?
Your girlfriend dresses well.
She's not my girlfriend.
Piss off.
You're like two peas in a fucking pod.
She's got a great rack though, I'll give her that.
Oh, God.
It's getting cold, isn't it?
No.
So when's this gig then?
You know we're all gonna come to that, don't you?
Please don't.
Look, is it much further?
No.
It's just up here.
Well, good night, Christine.
You got to walk me to the front door otherwise you're not a gentleman.
So...
Do you want to come in then?
I don't think so.
Oh, come on.
Mr. Hard to Get.
[people chattering]
Oi, Steve-o!
[laughing]
Right, here we go.
[music playing]
[scattered applause]
[singing]
[Linder] Are you happy?
I think so, yes.
Should I be?
You owned the room, Shakespeare.
You were the room.
What's this?
The big time.
Some London manager,
talked about tours and recording,
I can't fucking believe it, man.
One fucking gig.
- See you later, Steve-o! - Right.
Come on, boys.
Remember the date, and smile.
You too, Steven.
I said you'd be back in on Monday.
Yes but did you have to say I had diarrhea?
I've run out of excuses.
So...
Tell me all about it.
I've never experienced anything like it before.
And now I know how you must feel when you do your knitting.
You skivvying off again.
I've got far more important things to consider.
Like what?
Tell her about your gig.
It went really well.
Great.
So can I take today off 'cause I don't like Thursdays?
It's not like I want to spend my life stocking shelves.
Well, I hate to break it to you, Jacqueline,
the way things are looking,
it looks like there might be one less worker bee in the Morrissey hive.
What's this?
Studio time.
Gigs, stardom.
This is in London.
And?
And what is plan B if that doesn't work out?
My alphabet has only one letter.
What? D for dickhead.
Just because the height of your ambition
is aisle five, doesn't mean that I'm gonna slum it here for the rest of my life.
What are you talking about?
Once they discover my genius, it's inevitable I'll move.
You've done one gig.
That's enough, you two.
I don't have to listen to this.
[imitating bell] Clean up on aisle five.
Clean up on aisle five.
No?
All right.
Here, mate.
We talked last week.
We were fucked by your third song, but still.
This a private meeting or can anybody join in?
Did you know Steve was in a band?
No, no, I didn't, no.
And I don't care. Get back to your desk and start working.
[Steven] I sometimes feel like the subject of a Lowry painting.
I've never wanted to paint anything.
But look at these walls.
Returning to the real world
is like stepping into a cold shower.
Where the dress code is smart...
Where the hell is he now?
And the people less so.
Lazy bastard.
And your ambition is to start each day
and still exist by the end of it.
At least Lowry had smog.
[inaudible conversation]
We've got nothing to choke on.
This is what you call the records room, is it?
On the fucking roof!
I was actually...
Yeah, I know exactly what you're get up to up here.
Writing bollocks about what fucking idiots we are!
Well, I'll tell you one thing, Steven.
What goes around, comes around.
What are you writing now?
It's none of your business.
I'll be the judge of that.
Fine.
Fine. You get back to your desk.
I'll deal with this after lunch.
You make a note in your fucking book.
[telephone ringing]
Morrissey.
Right. [clears throat]
You know why you're here?
I'm not paying you to write in your notebook.
Or be in a pop band.
I'm paying you to work.
But it's not just that, Steven.
Your attitude stinks.
You're never at your desk at 9:00,
if you're here at all.
And when you are in, your mind is elsewhere.
I don't owe you a living, Steven.
But,
I'm a fair man.
You know that.
So, I thought,
I would give you one more opportunity
to convince me that things are going to change.
You can't live two lives.
Work, or music.
What's it gonna be?
[elevator dinging]
Ah, the famous Steve Morrissey.
I'm not gonna miss you.
Liar.
So...
Did you jump, or were you pushed?
Creative differences.
Just when I was going to shoot you in the head.
I'm sorry to disappoint.
What time is the train?
We've got plenty of time.
Are you worried?
London belongs to me.
As I wandered thro' each charter'd street,
Near where the charter'd Thames does flow,
And mark in every face I meet
Marks of weakness,
Marks of woe.
I can't remember the rest.
In every cry of every man...
You see, what am I gonna do without you?
Die.
Lonely and depressed.
[typewriter clacking]
Give it a rest, will you?
Some of us have still work to go to.
[typewriter clacking]
[instrumental music playing]
- Hello. - Hi, Billy.
Steven.
It's...
I dropped off a tape.
- I got it. - And what do you think?
It's really good, mate.
I was thinking that maybe we should be the ones that demo for the manager.
- He called me this morning. - Oh great! Did he...
Did he say when we were going?
Billy?
I'm sorry, Steve.
They just want me to go.
But I don't understand.
They want a new guitarist for this band.
It's all lined up.
And yeah.
I'm sorry, Steve.
I don't know what to say.
I can't turn it down.
Steve? Are you still there?
Yes, still here.
I can't turn it down, mate.
I know.
Anyway, look, you remember my mate, Johnny?
Well, he's looking to start something.
So I mentioned you.
I'll give you his number.
Have you got a pen?
I'll get one.
[rain falling]
Mum said you'd forget.
- What? - Doctor's appointment.
You can't just lock yourself away.
Okay.
You've been in here for six weeks.
- Seven. - I'm being serious.
- Steven - What?
Mum's worried.
When is it?
Twenty minutes.
[door closes]
[crows cawing]
I don't think these are gonna help.
Tell me what the doctor said.
Did you explain how you were feeling?
Are you hungry?
I'll make you some food.
[rain falling]
[music playing]
[telephone ringing]
So what's it like down there then?
[Linder] Well...
I live in a shoe box, and all anyone talks about is hammers.
When are you coming?
Soon.
You'd clean up down here, there's loads of people you could meet.
You should come down.
I should, shouldn't I?
Yes.
Check the train guide.
I will.
If you need, I'll lend you the money.
So...
Anything new happening up there?
There's a new bag of cement in the cellar.
I was planning my visit...
You know Billy's playing in Manchester next month?
He always asks about you.
And?
And I told him you're writing your obituary.
Anyway, he said he'd put you on the guest list.
Hello? Are you even listening to me?
Not really. No.
Are you all right, Shakespeare?
You sound lost.
Now, I can see where I'm going.
[song continues playing]
- [man, muffled] How are you? - [woman] Thanks for coming.
[door closes]
[man] Right.
[distant talking]
How is he? Any change?
I'm running out of ideas.
Well, if it helps,
there's a job going on at the hospital.
I could put in a word.
[Steve] The most used noun in the English language is time.
And I'm running out of it.
You win, Christine.
You've won.
Some of us want to dream and keep on dreaming.
Think of us.
And protect us.
The lion and the lamb shall lie down together.
Down together we go.
Look at the state here.
I'll take the job.
What?
The hospital job. I...
I need the money, I want to see Linder, so...
[indistinct chatter]
[alarm clock ringing]
Everything all right?
Is Linder still enjoying London?
You could have probably get there and back ten times by now.
Steven.
Were you a friend?
[Steve] Life.
In its humdrum sense is worth
avoiding.
It's the factory for the father,
and the kitchen for mother.
It's arguments at the dinner table.
Missing children on the news.
And through it all, a sense that things are slowly falling apart.
Is it better to choose another record
to flip the lid on the pills
and wait for something to happen?
Is it better to turn out the lights,
climb under the covers,
until sleep invites you to a world you've always wanted.
Is it better than the one that's in front of us?
I like what you've done to the place.
I really don't know how to carry on, Mum.
I remember when you first heard this.
We couldn't get you down off the table.
Do you remember why I bought you this?
Mmm-hmm.
And the books, and the typewriter.
It's just not me anymore.
[sniffling]
Then who are you?
Are you the boy who stood on the table and sang to me
or are you just like everyone else?
Giving up,
with nothing to say.
I've tried, Mum.
It's not like I haven't tried.
What else am I supposed to do?
The world, it's just not built for people like me.
Then create your own world, Steven.
[sighing]
You'll get there.
I know you will.
But only when you realize
you have a choice.
Not everyone's so lucky.
You are the only version of yourself in existence.
There is no replica of you.
You just have to be who you are.
Isn't that worth life?
- Yeah? - Mmm.
- Okay. - Okay.
You could have at least torn the wallpaper down.
[chuckles softly]
[music starts playing]
Anything else?
That's one pound, 50, please.
[Steven] The past is
everything I have failed to be.
It was the ease of doing nothing
over the fear of doing something.
Do I carry those defeats
and emerge with a flag of victory?
[typewriter clacking]
It could be the start of something.
Even though the world does not want your dance and your glitter.
Men were born to pray and save.
Romantic England's dead and gone.
It's with Jane Austen in the grave.
I'm afraid that there's not much demand for pop stars
in the Stratford area.
And can you even sing?
Now,
Ringway Airport, looking for car park attendants.
Fine.
Meat packing in a grocery store?
Ah. Bricklayers.
People always need houses, Steven.
Job for a life, is that.
Do you ever wake up and think,
"I wonder if I could have been a poet."
What?
Do you think,
that if you tried,
just a little bit harder
that you could have made it.
That maybe, instead of...
All this,
you could have gone down in history.
Steven...
It's me interviewing you, not the other way around.
Manchester's first Nobel laureate.
Look, son.
You might think it's okay to quit your job.
But there are two million other blokes out there who are looking for work,
so I suggest that you stop pointing your finger out,
and stop wasting my bloody time.
You can do it, sir.
I believe in you.
Oh...
And if you ever do find a bricklayer floating in the Irwell,
it'll be me.
I'm heading in to work. You want something?
You're sure that's enough?
Make sure you eat something today that isn't toast.
But I like toast.
You all right?
I'm Johnny.
I got your address off Billy.
Look, you probably don't remember me, but...
I do.
I play a bit, and...
Can I come in?
[door closes]
Have you read all these?
Mmm-hmm.
Some top stuff in here.
They don't make stuff like this anymore.
You know what I mean?
Would you like to play one?
All right.
[music starts playing]
Would you care for some toast?
Yeah.
Cheers.
So? 1:00 then?
1:00.
Shit! Almost forgot.
Billy said these are yours?
See you tomorrow.
[strumming]
[guitar music stops playing]
[distant train clattering]
[train clattering]
[doorbell ringing]
Subtitles by explosiveskull